Shark Attacks of New York: A History

By Patricia Heyer and Robert Heyer

New York's crowded beaches can come to halt with the shout of a single word: shark! The shores of Long Island and Staten Island and the waters surrounding Manhattan have had more than thirty shark attacks recorded since the days of New Amsterdam. Legend has it that Antony Van Corlear, Peter Stuyvesant's trusted deputy, was killed by a shark crossing Spuyten Duyvil Creek while blowing his famed trumpet. In the summer of 1916, after a series of bloody encounters along the Jersey Shore, sharks terrorized beachgoers of Sheepshead Bay, frightening the entire region. Two incidents on Fire Island in 2018 within mere hours and miles of each other involved a twelve-year-old and a thirteen-year-old, striking fear in the hearts of parents. Authors Patricia and Robert Heyer chart the history of New York's shark attacks.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The History Press
• Release date: Aug 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781439673218

Patricia Heyer

Patricia Heyer is a local history buff with a special interest in New Jersey folklore and marine science. She has written extensively for both children and adults during her career, including her most recent book for kids, The Ghostly Tales of the Jersey Shore (adapted from her adult book, Haunted Jersey Shore Beaches, Boardwalks, and Lighthouses ). Pat is an avid reader, beachcomber, and animal rescue supporter. She resides on the Jersey shore with her husband Rob and their rescue cat, Gracie.

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INTRODUCTION

The southern New York shore, comprising Manhattan, Staten Island and Long Island, has often been dubbed the island trio at the center of the world. While this unique group of islands is indeed the epicenter of world business, finance, transportation, and arts and culture, it is also home to millions of devoted beach-loving New Yorkers. In addition, it is the destination for more than forty-five million tourists who cram these beaches each year.

Yet these crowded beaches can be abruptly emptied with the shout of a single word. Restaurants and hotels are abandoned, and boardwalks and amusement parks grow silent, bringing the local economy to a screeching halt. That one shouted word is Shark!

What is it about that particular word that immediately captures our full attention? Why do we robotically suck in a quick breath and shift into a fight-or-flight response? We are peculiarly both fascinated and terrified. It doesn’t seem to matter if we link it with other words, creating terms like loan shark or card shark, or if we are indeed referring to the apex predator Chondrichthyes, known better to us as the shark.

This ambivalence with sharks is as old as written history. Yet if we look at the statistics, we see that documented encounters with sharks do not support this belief. The odds of being killed by a shark are about one in four million. You are more likely to be hit by lightning, to be killed in a train crash or to win the lottery than to be attacked by a shark. Yet the fear of this cartilaginous fish is palpable in the general population. Although millions of us enter their ecosystem each year, there are only about eight deaths per year by shark attack. At the same time, ten million sharks are killed by humans each year. Here in the waters of New York, there have been thirty-three recorded encounters between sharks and humans in the last 379 years.

It is difficult to identify the reason that humans feel such ambivalence toward these particular sea creatures. Some say it is because mankind has such a limited capacity to exist in their ecosystem; others insist that it is due to misinformation about the species and our limited knowledge of their biology and behavior.

Although we can’t pinpoint the rationale, the fear/fascination is evident. One need only to look at the number of shark-themed books, movies, television shows, toys, internet sites and tourist tchotchkes to see the obsessive yet fearful relationship man has with sharks.

With more and more people using the ocean for recreation, humans are increasingly encountering an assortment of marine life, including sharks. Although we can usually see this interaction as a curious and positive happenstance, it is not always the case. This shouldn’t surprise us, as the ocean is the shark’s natural habitat, and our ability to survive there is extremely limited.

Dangerous encounters with sharks fall into two categories: attacks that are provoked and those that are unprovoked. When we enter the marine realm and attempt to harass, catch or even kill a shark, we are provoking the incident. Like any other living thing under perceived attack, a shark will respond.

Admittedly, a shark sometimes initiates the encounter. It is unknown if such attacks are merely a case of mistaken identity, as the shark sees our appendages as prey, or if even trespassing in their waters by man or boat is enough to bring about a response. Sometimes, it seems that the human being and the shark were both simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The accounts shared here of the thirty-three shark/human encounters in New York waters stretch from 1642 to the present and are documented in the New York Shark Attack File by coauthor Robert Heyer. Established in 1998, the files seek to document all possible shark attacks on humans within these waters.

These took place at sixteen locations along our southern shores of Manhattan, Queens, Brooklyn, Staten Island and Long Island. Although most communities experienced a single attack, a few have seen more than one incident. The records date to the earliest days of the Dutch settlement and extend to the present day.

Computer-generated movie scenes portray sharks as predatory monsters with a taste for human flesh. Courtesy of Pixabay.com.

The narratives here do not sensationalize the events, nor do they skimp on the facts or the sometimes gruesome and life-altering effects on the victims. They remind us of how out of place we are in the ocean realm and at the same time describe accounts of bravery in the face of danger as well as those human foibles that so often contribute to the mishaps.

Shark Attacks of New York: A History includes history and adventure, success and failure, laughter and heartbreak. It is the chronicle of two creatures, both at the top of their food chains, and what can occur when their paths intersect.

CHAPTER 1

1642–1858

1642: MANHATTAN

By the early seventeenth century, European powers were vying for colonies along North America’s Eastern Seaboard. The Dutch, much to the chagrin of the English, had claimed a large portion of the northeastern coast. The island of Manhattan, known then as New Amsterdam, was the center of their rich trading empire. At the southern tip of the island, New Amsterdam’s strategic location gave the Dutch significant military and commercial advantage.

The Dutch West Indies Company controlled the rich fur-trading industry and indeed New Amsterdam itself. The colony was initially established to be purely commercial, but by 1624, there were about 275 people living permanently on Manhattan Island.

The constant threat of attack by other European nations meant that the Dutch kept a large garrison both on the island and along the banks of the Hudson River. It was under the command of Peter Stuyvesant, the well-known and last governor general of the Dutch colony. Stuyvesant‘s famous silver-banded wooden leg earned him the nickname Pete the Peg among his political opponents.

The first possible reported shark attack took place during these arduous times, sometime around 1642. It must be noted that historical dates can sometimes be misconstrued or recorded incorrectly. Although the account identifies Peter Stuyvesant as the governor general, and thus commander of the garrison at the time of the attack, other records insist that Stuyvesant did not assume the position until 1647. For this description, we rely on the dates provided by the early American writer, biographer, diplomat and historian Washington Irving.

We know that it was during the era of the Anglo-Dutch Wars (1663–67), when New Amsterdam was frequently under attack by the English. On this occasion, Stuyvesant believed that an attack from the English was imminent. Despite stormy weather, he activated the garrison in an immediate call to arms. As usual, the task of alerting the troops fell to the garrison trumpeter, who rode the length and breadth of the island, sounding the alarm with his trumpet.

Antony Van Corlear, the trumpeter of the Dutch garrison, was Stuyvesant’s right-hand man and personal confidant. Van Corlear reveled in any opportunity to carry out the directives of the governor general. The robust and gregarious bachelor, with a penchant for wooing the ladies, took time to fortify himself with a hearty dinner before heading out on his mission. He strapped a jug of local brew to his saddle, slung the trumpet across his back and rode quickly northward through the dark and stormy night.

Van Corlear was heading to the garrison just across the river in the Bronx. Ahead of him was Spuyten Duyvil Creek, an inlet into the Hudson River. When the tide was low, it was possible to ford the creek by wading across. But by the time he reached the riverbank, it was high tide. The currents were treacherous, and the creek was swollen by the rainstorm. Although there was usually a ferry available for crossings, there was none to be had that night.

With no ferry in sight and the raging creek before him, Van Corlear stood on the riverbank, staring at the swirling waters. He strapped his trumpet to his back and took a long snort from his jug. Without saying a word, he dove into the swirling current and swam for the far shore.

As he reached midpoint, it was noted by those on the riverbank that he began to struggle violently. They could not discern exactly what was happening. Suddenly, they heard one last shrill blast of the trumpet, and Van Corlear sank beneath the water, never to be seen again.

The clamor of his final blast could be heard all across the countryside. Men of the garrison raced to their posts, and neighbors rushed to the riverbank. There, a witness claimed that he saw a giant mossbunker grab Van Corlear’s leg and drag him into the depths. (The word mossbunker was often used in those days to describe any large sea creature, possibly a shark.)

With one final blast of his trumpet, Anton