The story begins in 1936, when a scruffy, seven-month-old orange tabby wandered into the lobby of the iconic Algonquin Hotel on West 44th Street. He was just another stray trying to escape the city streets. But Frank Case, the hotel’s legendary owner, saw something special in him. The hotel’s previous cat, Billy, had recently passed away after a long 15-year "reign," and the position was open. Case named the newcomer Rusty, and a New York legend was born.
For nearly a century, the Algonquin has never been without a resident cat, a tradition that all started with a few beloved rescues. But while his predecessor Billy was well-liked, Rusty was a bona fide celebrity who often made headlines.
A Star is Born
“Rusty, the Algonquin’s snooty cat…ignores more celebrities than the Social Register…it’s whispered around by those who claim to know that he really runs the place.”
– Dorothy Kilgallen, “The Voice of Broadway”
Growing into a distinguished 18-pound gentleman, Rusty became a favorite among the famous actors, artists, and writers who frequented the hotel. He had a particular fondness for new guests, rubbing against their legs as they tried to sign the register. More than once, a clerk had to gently nudge the friendly cat off the guestbook.
He wasn’t always a fan of other four-legged guests, though. In its early days, the hotel allowed dogs, and Rusty once had a run-in with a feisty French poodle that left him hiding under a bed for days. He received a flood of get-well-soon cards from his fans, including one from the famous author Sinclair Lewis.
A Day in the Life of a Hotel Cat
Rusty’s daily routine was more structured than that of most New Yorkers. His day began in the 10th-floor suite of Frank and his wife, Bertha Case. Every morning, Bertha would groom him to perfection. Rusty adored this ritual and would come running at the sight of the brush.
Once he was looking dapper, he’d take the guest elevator—never the service one, thank you very much—down to the lobby to begin his “work.” For his convenience, a small swinging door was installed between the lobby and the kitchen, but Rusty spent most of his time in the hotel’s famous Blue Bar.
From about 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., he’d occupy his personal stool at the bar, supervising the lunch crowd. When things quieted down, he and his favorite bartender, Louie, would have the place to themselves. Rusty would drum his paws on the counter to signal it was time for his daily shot of milk. Sometimes Louie would whistle a tune, and Rusty would sway along as if he were dancing.
At 4 p.m. sharp, his shift was over. He’d hop off his stool, ride the elevator back upstairs, and enjoy an evening snifter of milk served in a champagne glass before taking a nap. He’d return to the bar for a final tour of duty at 7:30 p.m. before retiring for the night at 10.
Summers in the Hamptons
Even a celebrity cat needs a vacation. In the summer, Rusty would escape the city heat with the Case family at their waterfront home in North Haven, near Southampton. The area was a popular colony for actors, and famous friends of the family, like Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford, would often stop by to visit with both the Cases and their famous feline.
A Heartbreaking Farewell
Rusty’s idyllic life took a tragic turn in 1946. In February, Bertha Case passed away after a long illness. Just four months later, Frank Case died in the same hotel suite they had all shared. The new hotel manager, John Martin, held Rusty in his arms to let him say a final goodbye to his master. Martin told the press the cat let out a strange cry and shuddered.
In the days that followed, Rusty was inconsolable. He refused to eat and stopped making his daily rounds of the hotel. He was diagnosed with jaundice and leukemia, but those who knew him believed it was something more.
Less than two weeks after Frank’s death, Rusty was found curled up beside his late master’s bed. He had passed away. “Rusty was sick from missing the two people he loved best,” the family housekeeper, Mrs. Legrand, told a reporter. “Always he was looking at the door as if he wondered why they didn’t come.”
Rusty was buried in the garden of the Case family’s summer home in Southampton—a peaceful final resting place for a former alley cat who had lived a truly remarkable life.
Today, the tradition Rusty made famous continues. While modern health codes mean you won’t find the current cat sitting at the bar, the Algonquin still has a feline host or hostess to greet you. So next time you’re near Times Square, step into the Algonquin on West 44th Street. You just might get a welcome from the latest heir to Rusty’s throne, keeping a truly charming piece of New York City history alive.
