On September 30th, 1902, the old offices on Leonard Street which had been in use since the front building on Centre Street had been torn down to make room for the new structure, were abandoned and the books and other important documents removed to the offices in the new building. This new building, however, was not entirely ready for use, but the first step had been taken and the occasion was hailed with joy. The second step in the entire occupation of the new City Prison took place Tuesday, January 6th, 1903, when the contractors handed over the entire structure to the City authorities and it was formally opened to the public by Mayor Seth Low and Commissioner Thomas W. Hynes in the presence of a number of invited guests. A few days afterwards the prisoners were transferred from the old prison to the new, and the work of demolishing the old Tombs was begun. When the new Tombs was opened in 1901, John E. Van De Carr was Warden. And a kinder and more obliging man never lived than he. Both under the administrations of Mayors Strong and Low he was the official head of the city prison, and cared for the inmates of the prison as if they were his own family. For many years the city prison has been noted for some of its semi-official inmates, who lived on perquisites and tips, and one of this class was old John Curran, the official guide of the prison. Old John had served in this capacity for many years, and knew every nook and cranny of the old structure. Roland B. Molineaux had a good opportunity of seeing old John at his best, and has kindly spoken of him in his book, “The Room with the Little Door.” Whenever John waxed eloquent, in describing the places of interest within the Tombs yard, he revealed a strong Irish brogue, that made his descriptions witty. You could not help smiling when you heard John, as he was wont to do, point out the last remaining beam of the old Tombs gallows, on which a score or more of persons were hung. “Gintlemens, thems th’ last and true part of old galleys of New Yark, on which so many famous chaps wint to death.” As he turned toward “Bummers’ Hall” with his visitors in the rear, he would exclaim, “Gints, thems the way to the exodus” as he would point to the back door of the new prison. Soon after the opening of the new prison John disappeared from history as if the earth had opened its mouth and swallowed him out of sight. Where did he go? No person seemed to know. Mr. Sullivan, who was known as the Captain of the Bum Brigade, and was known as John’s confidential adviser, said that as soon as the old fellow secured his “pile” he vanished. I afterwards learned that John had a daughter living in Maine, and without communicating his plans to any one in the prison, removed thither, where he purchased a farm and now resides, happy and contented, ever and anon dreaming, how he had lived so long in the old Tombs and how he had so long fooled the visitors with his “Corkonian eloquence.”