If you’ve ever watched Daniel Day-Lewis tap a glass eye with a knife and thought, "Man, old New York was a nightmare," you’ve basically experienced the afterlife of Herbert Asbury. He’s the guy who wrote the book. Not just any book, but the 1928 "informal history" that Martin Scorsese obsessed over for twenty years before finally turning it into a movie.
But here’s the thing.
Herbert Asbury wasn't exactly a historian. Not in the way we think of them now, with their footnotes and peer-reviewed caution. He was a newspaperman. A guy who loved a good story and didn't mind if the truth got a little stretched to make the blood look redder.
The Man Behind the Myth
Herbert Asbury grew up in a strict Methodist household in Missouri. His family tree was packed with preachers—his great-great uncle was literally the first Methodist bishop in the U.S.
Maybe that's why he was so obsessed with sin.
By the time he got to New York in the 1920s, he was a seasoned journalist with a nose for the "gutter-level" view of history. He didn't want to write about presidents or trade policies. He wanted to write about the Five Points. He wanted to write about the Dead Rabbits, the Plug Uglies, and the Bowery Boys.
The book itself, The Gangs of New York, is a wild, staccato tour through the 19th-century underworld. It’s less a cohesive narrative and more a database of chaos. You’ve got characters like Hell-Cat Maggie, who allegedly filed her teeth to points and wore brass fingernails to better shred her enemies' ears.
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Is that true? Probably not.
But it makes for a hell of a read. Honestly, that’s the Asbury method in a nutshell: take a rumor from a police blotter, mix it with some local legend, and serve it up as the "hidden truth" of the city.
Fact vs. Friction: What’s Actually Real?
If you talk to a modern academic like Tyler Anbinder, author of Five Points, they'll tell you Asbury’s book is closer to pulp fiction than history.
Let's look at the Dead Rabbits. In the movie, they’re this grand, noble Irish resistance. In Asbury’s book, they’re a terrifying street gang. But in actual historical records? There’s a very good chance the "Dead Rabbits" didn't even exist as a formal gang. They were likely just a derogatory nickname given to a specific faction of the Roach Guards.
The name itself probably comes from a "dead rabbit" being thrown into a room during a fight—sort of a 19th-century version of "throwing hands."
The Real Bill the Butcher
Then you have William Poole, the inspiration for Bill the Butcher. Scorsese’s version (played by Day-Lewis) is a nativist kingpin who dies in 1863 during the Draft Riots.
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The real Bill?
- He died in 1855, years before the riots started.
- He wasn't a "gang leader" in the Five Points; he was a leader of the Bowery Boys and a champion bare-knuckle boxer.
- He didn't die in some epic square-off in Paradise Square. He was shot in a bar called Stanwix Hall by a guy named John Morrissey.
Asbury knew this, but he framed it all with such evangelical fervor that the line between "this happened" and "this represents the vibe" became totally blurred.
Why the Book Still Matters
Even if half the stories are tall tales, The Gangs of New York changed how we see the American city.
Before Asbury, history was polite. It was about the Great Men. Asbury looked at the Five Points—which, at the time, was considered the most dangerous slum in the world—and said, "No, this is where the real New York was born."
He captured the Draft Riots of 1863 with a visceral, terrifying energy. While some of his stats might be inflated (historians now believe about 120 people died, not the thousands Asbury hinted at), he correctly identified the riots as a moment where the city's racial and class tensions exploded into pure, unadulterated carnage.
The Lingo and the Lowlife
One of the coolest things Asbury did was preserve the "rogue's lexicon." He dug up 19th-century slang that would have been lost otherwise.
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- "Plug Uglies": Known for wearing giant plug hats stuffed with wool to protect their heads during brawls.
- "Short Tails": A gang from the waterfront.
- "Dandy" Johnny Dolan: A killer who supposedly invented a copper ring with a spike for gouging out eyes.
You’ve got to admire the dedication to the macabre. Asbury wasn't just writing history; he was building a mythology for a city that was trying to forget its messy roots.
The Scorsese Connection
Scorsese found a copy of the book in the 1970s and it basically broke his brain. He saw in Asbury’s prose the DNA of everything he wanted to explore: faith, violence, tribalism, and the "tribal" nature of American identity.
The movie isn't a documentary of the 1860s. It’s a movie of Herbert Asbury’s version of the 1860s.
Scorsese kept the spirit of Asbury’s sensationalism alive. He built a massive set at Cinecittà Studios in Rome to recreate the "Old Brewery" and Paradise Square. He leaned into the idea that the city was built on a "bottom-up" foundation of blood and grit.
Actionable Insights for History Buffs
If you want to actually understand this era without getting bamboozled by 1920s journalism, here’s how to navigate it:
- Read Asbury for the "Vibe," not the "Stats." It’s a great book for understanding the folklore of the city, but don't cite it in a term paper.
- Check out Tyler Anbinder’s Five Points. If you want the real data on what those tenements actually looked like and who lived in them, this is the gold standard.
- Visit the New York City Municipal Archives. They have the actual police records and court transcripts from the 1850s. You’ll find that "Bill the Butcher" was actually more of a local politician than a warlord.
- Watch for the "Underworld" pattern. Asbury wrote similar "informal histories" for Chicago (Gem of the Prairie), San Francisco (The Barbary Coast), and New Orleans (The French Quarter). They all follow the same pattern: colorful names, extreme violence, and a hint of moral panic.
New York wasn't just a city of immigrants and bankers. It was a city of people trying to survive in a place that didn't have enough room for everyone. Herbert Asbury might have been a bit of a "fake news" pioneer, but he gave a voice to the people who were usually just a footnote in a census report.
If you're going to dive into this world, just remember: keep one eye on the page and the other on the exit. In the Five Points, nothing is ever exactly what it seems.
To truly grasp the era, your next move should be exploring the Old Brewery records. It was once the most densely populated, crime-ridden building in the world before it was demolished in 1852—a decade before the events of the movie. Understanding why it had to go gives you a clearer picture of the city's early attempt at "urban renewal" through destruction.