William J. Fox was the proprietor of an Oyster Bay, Long Island hotel and saloon called the Trout Pond Inn during much of the early 1900’s. Originally called the Franklin House or sometimes Franklin’s Hotel it was named after a man named John A. Franklin who was typically referred to as “Capt.” in the local newspapers. The reasoning for this was explained in his July 12, 1907 obituary published in a newspaper called the “Long Islander.”
He was a veteran of the Civil War, having fought in the Third Missouri Cavalry and was honorably discharged.
After the war, 1880 census records listed his occupation as “oysterman” so it’s likely he started his hotel sometime after 1880. That said, it was certainly up and running in the summer of 1895 when a June 15th “Long Islander” story announced:
John A. Franklin, a hotel keeper, had wells driven 54 and 156 feet deep. He conducts a part of the water into his cellar for refrigeration purposes.
Another story, this one in the October 25, 1895 edition of the “Long Islander” made it clear that his submerged beer kegs shared the space with a large number of speckled trout.
John A. Franklin of Oyster Bay, has a tank in his cellar in which he cools his beer kegs. In the tank are about 100 speckled trout. It is said the largest weighs over six pounds.
The May 1902 Sanborn Map located what I suspect was Franklin’s hotel “D” and Saloon “Sal” near the Oyster Bay waterfront at the corner of Bay Street and what would later become Bayles Place.
As far as I can tell, Franklin continued to serve as proprietor of the hotel and saloon until his death in 1907. At this point, William Fox, who census records suggest had married Franklin’s daughter Mary Anna in 1898, assumed the proprietorship. As early as 1908 Fox was listed as the hotel’s liquor tax certificate holder in the New York State Department of Excise Directory.
By that time, the February 1909 Sanborn Map officially referenced the saloon as the Trout Pond Cafe. The map also indicated that a mineral water works under the management of a man named Geo. Caspari had been established adjacent to the cafe.
This close-up view of the hotel, cafe and mineral water works suggests they all shared a common driveway and backyard.
Sometime in the early teens Fox also became proprietor of the bottling business which, by 1915 was labeled as the Oyster Bay Bottling Works on the Sanborn Map.
Fox’s business card reflecting the change appeared as part of a June 17, 1916 feature on Oyster Bay published in the “Brooklyn Daily Times.”
Fox continued to be listed as the hotel’s liquor tax certificate holder up through the start of prohibition and a May 2, 1920 story in the “Brooklyn Daily Times” suggests he wasn’t adverse to selling liquor even after the 18th Amendment was enacted.
William J. Fox, a saloon owner, and Stanley Kessler, a bartender, of Oyster Bay, were charged with violation of the prohibition law and held by Commissioner McGoldrick for examination. Fox’s bail was fixed at $1,000 and Kessler’s at $500.
How long Fox remained proprietor of the Trout Pond Hotel is not clear. According to 1930 census records he was still living on Bay Street in Oyster Bay but at that point listed his occupation as none. This March 1, 1926 item published in the “Brooklyn Eagle” suggests he may have given up proprietorship of the business by that time.
The caption below the photo reads:
Mr. and Mrs. William J. Fox of Oyster Bay, stopping for a brief rest beside the great pyramid at Cairo, Egypt. The couple are enjoying a tour of the world on the Canadian Pacific S. S. Empress of Scotland.
In 1940, still living on Bay Street he was working on account as a barkeeper (just staying busy?)
The “Brooklyn Eagle” reported that Fox passed away in May, 1940, leaving his entire estate to his wife Mary. The story appeared that year in their June 29th edition.
William J Fox owner of the Trout Pond Inn at Oyster Bay for many years, who died in that village May 24, left an estate of more that $11,000, according to his will dated Nov. 19, 1925 and filed here for probate yesterday with Surrogate Leon D. Howell. The entire estate was left to the widow, Mary Anna Fox. She is the executrix.
This undated photograph appeared in a feature on Oyster Bay found in the October 13, 1994 edition of a newspaper called the “Glen Cove Record Pilot.” As far as I can tell right to left are the hotel, cafe, driveway and former bottling works.
Today’s view, courtesy of Google Maps, is not all that different.
The bottle I found is a 7-ounce tooled crown. It likely dates to around the time when Fox became proprietor of the mineral water works, sometime in the early teens.
On a final note, this story appeared in the January 13, 1919 edition of the “Evening World.” While it exaggerates the age of the Trout Pond Hotel it’s certainly not the only exaggeration the story contains. That said, it’s certainly worth a read!
Out at Oyster Bay, set among a cluster of antique dwellings on the sands of the beach itself, is one of the oldest inns on Long Island. It is also one of the most remarkable.
Over the door swings a sign which tells the close observer that the place is the Trout Pond Inn. The sign starts to tell you when the inn was established, but it gets no further than “18” – the century is distinguishable but the year has long faded into a weather beaten blurr.
William Fox, the present proprietor has been there for more than 30 years and his predecessor was there longer than that.
If you happen to be the kind of a person he likes he’ll tell you who put the trout pond in the Trout Pond Inn..
Bill consented to show the writer the trout pond, although he said he didn’t like to at that particular time, because there had been an accident a few days ago from which the fish had not yet recovered. However he led the way to a dark cavern underneath the bar, where the sound of running water could be heard.
Suddenly Bill flashed on a string of electric lights and revealed a concrete lined, circular cave, at the bottom of which was a glistening pool of clear sparkling artesian well water.
Submerged in the pool were several beer and ale kegs attached to the spigots on the bar by long metal tubes.
Around the kegs cavorted a dozen huge trout. The smallest Bill said, weighed considerably more than six pounds and several tipped the scales at better than eight. “Tipping the scales”is one of Bill’s standard jokes.
Just then Bill dropped down among the group and brought up a glass of water that was clear as crystal. As he held it up against one of the electric light bulbs the water shone like liquid diamonds.
“See them trout?” he added. “Well there ain’t one that has been in that pool for less than ten years. Now, there’s Jesse, for instance. She’s hidin’ behind the beer barrel ’cause she’s sort of shy with strangers.”
“Jessie ain’t as spry as once she was,” declared Bill. “She is close onto eleven years old now, and I guess she’ll be passin’ out soon. Her father, a trout called Old Bill, whose remains are stuffed and hanging up behind the bar, lived in this pool for twelve years and three months. At that age he died a natural death. This part of Oyster Bay went into mourning when old Bill died. He was the most gentle souled, affectionate trout I ever see. He’d come when I called him and eat out of my hand.”
“All the fish you see here are Old Bill’s children. When Old Bill died he was twenty-five inches long and weighed just a trifle over nine pounds, which is some proportions for a trout.”
“Now you see them small kegs under the water, right next to the ale kegs? Well, they got sherry in ’em.
You wouldn’t believe it, but when I opened up here the other morning I heard a great splashing down in this pool and I hustled right down to see what the matter was. The trout were racing around, chasing each other in all directions and making general fools of themselves.
One of them was lying on the surface upside down and I thought at first he was dead. I couldn’t understand what had happened until I noticed a queer odor of sherry in the pool. Then I noticed that one of the sherry casks had sprung a leak and I knew in a minute that all those fish were plum intoxicated.
The one lying on the surface was sleeping his jag off. The rest were simply having a wild cabaret. I let a lot of fresh well water into the pool and after a while they began to sober up. Most of ’em had had headaches for a long while after.