1893 article in the New York Herald was even more apocalyptic: its headline was "Last of Famous Elysian Fields," followed by a succession of three sub-heads, which read, "The Long Favored Amusement Haunts of New Yorkers Soon to Disappear / Time's Destroying Touches / Historical Retreats and Honored Landmarks of Early Days Now Being Rapidly Obliterated." The article stated: Even up to the past year was the hand of progress and time stayed and inroads toward the utter obliteration of the former spot so dear and memorable to New Yorkers sparsely advanced, so that it appeared as if it was really with reluctance that the despoilers of the grounds almost held sacred cared to go on at any rampant pace, as though fully mindful of the fact that when the news was spread of the final destruction of the old Elysian Fields, the work would be by many felt as an utter desecration. But during the past four months the march of improvement in Hoboken as a modern suburb and town of stimulated enterprise has been steadily asserting itself, and piece by piece the approaches to the Elysian Fields have been encroached upon, until the very centre of the greatly admired domain, filled with its treasured romantic and historical surroundings, is now in readiness for speedy and complete obliteration. First the lower approaches to the famous pleasure grounds were cut into by the establishing of a number of steamship wharves for foreign traffic, just below the grounds of the Stevens Institute ... To those with whom a lingering regard still exists for Elysian Fields and who have not of late frequented the old grounds, the transformation now being wrought and already accomplished will be indeed surprising. In fact, certain quarters of the favorite, ancient domain to old Gothamites who were wont to make the Elysian Fields the one retreat for their Sunday's recreation will scarcely be recognized. W. Jay Mills, in his 1902 book Historic Houses of New Jersey, wrote: The Stevens home to-day does not miss the wide strip of pebbly beach, now profaned by huge piers and warehouses, the immortal river walk, which has disappeared, where old New York came to promenade and recruit its wasted energy, and the forgotten green where the weary rested and sipped their sangaree punch and strong waters. These all belong to another period, but it can ever look proudly on the great