March 29, 2026

Snooky of City Hall

In 1939, a cat named Snooky became the unofficial resident of New York City Hall, attending meetings, eating salmon in the press room, and briefly becoming a local celebrity.

In 1939, a cat named Snooky went to work at New York City Hall and, by all accounts, settled into the role with remarkable ease.

Snooky belonged to Tom Halton, a night watchman at City Hall, who brought her in after the previous municipal cat passed away. It was not an official appointment, but it was treated with a certain level of seriousness once she arrived.

Reporters immediately took an interest. Some suggested renaming her “Fusion,” after a political party at the time, but Tom refused and produced a collar that settled the matter: Snooky - City Hall. The press, satisfied with the decision, welcomed her in their own way, offering catnip and the occasional dish of ice cream.

Snooky adjusted quickly. She wandered freely through offices, sat in on meetings, and developed a habit of stretching out across important-looking documents, including budget reports, as though they had been prepared specifically for her comfort. She was seen attending conferences with Fiorello La Guardia and moving through the building with what reporters described as a distinctly proprietary air.

By late afternoon, her schedule became more predictable. At 5 p.m. each day, Snooky was served dinner, usually canned salmon, kept cold in the press room. It was a routine she appeared to take seriously, and one that contributed to her reputation as a cat of particular standards.

Those standards were tested during the war. By 1943, canned fish was rationed, and Tom began to worry that substitutes might not be acceptable. There was concern that Snooky, if dissatisfied, might turn her attention to the pigeons in nearby City Hall Park. For a cat with access to an entire municipal building, this was considered a manageable but not insignificant risk.

Then, in late 1944, Snooky disappeared. For weeks, Tom searched the city. In her absence, a stray black cat attempted to take over her position at City Hall and was promptly removed, suggesting that even unofficial roles came with expectations. The disappearance was covered by newspapers, including The New York Times, with the tone usually reserved for missing public figures.

About a month later, a patrolman spotted Snooky on the Lower East Side and returned her to City Hall. She was welcomed back with a full can of salmon and resumed her routine as if nothing had happened. By then, she was described in the papers as “dirty, disdainful, and debonair,” which, for a City Hall cat, seemed appropriate.

In 1945, Snooky disappeared again. And this time, she did not return.

Another cat eventually took her place, and the building continued to function as it always had. Meetings were held, reports were filed, and somewhere in the background, another cat moved through the offices with authority.

The job, it seemed, did not belong to any one cat. But for a few years, it belonged to Snooky.

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