The Philip Muller House - 190 Spring Street

 

Around 1824, Nathanial Paine erected three Federal-style houses at 166 to 170 Spring Street.  (They would be renumbered 186 to 190 Spring Street in 1848.)  Three-and-a-half stories tall, the peaked roofs of each had a single dormer.

In 1827, slavery was abolished in New York.  The area that centered around Minetta Lane, about four blocks to the north of Spring Street, became Manhattan's first black enclave (later known as Little Africa).  Interestingly, in 1827, Thomas Duncan and Francis Hamilton, both listed as "colored," occupied the western house of Paine's row.

Because of the rapid turnovers in the residents over the coming years, it appears that 190 Spring Street was being rented.  Living here in 1830 were the families of Charles M. Davis, who did not list a profession; and John Nicholas, a mason.  Sharing the house with Maria Kerns, the widow of Joseph Kerns, in 1836 were John Bentley, a tailor; and Jacob Moore, a saddler.

Apparently operating as a boarding house in 1845, it must have been tight quarters for the families of tailor Henry Platte; Adam Harlish, a cabinetmarker; Herman Benedix, a "segarmaker;" and bootmaker Paul Brehm.

Paul Brehm still occupied the 16-foot-wide house when it was sold at auction on February 8, 1851 for $4,300 (about $177,000 in 2025).  It was purchased by another bootmaker, Philip Muller, who moved his family into the upper floors and opened his shop on the ground floor. 

Philip and Eva Muller took in five boarders in 1851, two of whom likely worked for Muller.  Joseph Dirlmier and Joseph Tilmare were both shoemakers.  The other men, William Burger, Philip Finkmauer, and George Sehilling were all cabinetmakers.

On June 29, 1862, The New York Times headlined an article, "A Fire In Spring-Street," and reported that at 2:00 that morning, while the occupants of 190 Spring Street were asleep, a fire broke out in the shoe store, "owned and occupied on the first floor by Mr. Miller [sic]."  Fortunately, the fire was confined to the shop and, additionally, Muller was "fully insured" for the $700 damages (nearly $22,000 today).

While he and his wife continued to own and live here, it appears that Philip retired around 1876.  That year Henry Otto operated his tailor shop in the ground floor space.  In the basement was a "beer saloon" run by Jacob Hensle.  The configuration would cause problems in 1878.  Every year since 1876, Otto leased his shop to the city as a polling place.  (In 1876, for instance, he received $35 for the day's use.)

On December 21, 1878, the New-York Tribune reported, "Captain McDonnell, of the Eighth Police Precinct, was again before the Board of Police yesterday, in regard to his alleged fault in selecting polling places for the last election at Nos. 190 and 205 Spring-st. where it is alleged that liquor was sold."  In questioning, "Captain McDonnell admitted that No. 190 Spring-st, had a beer saloon in the basement under the polling-room."

Henry Otto's tailor shop was replaced in 1879 by Claude M. Boland's business, whose family lived upstairs with the Mullers.  His self-applauding listing in the city directory that year read:

Boland, Charles M. machinist, engineer, inventor and manufacturer of over-stitching sewing-machines for furs, gloves, &c., patented April 23d, 1878, 190 Spring st.

Interestingly, on October 3, 1890, Philip and Eva Muller transferred title to 190 Spring Street to Jacob Weindorf as a "gift," according to the Record & Guide.  In return, Weindorf gave the couple a "life lease" on the property, assuring they would have a home.

In the meantime, tenants who shared the upper floors with the Mullers continued to come and go.  Two young Italian immigrants, cousins Michael and Nicolo Pierro lived here in 1890.  The pair would be pulled into a dramatic, and finally fatal, incident that year.

Nicolo Pierro seduced a young woman, Pasquelina Robertielio, who lived at 156 Mott Street.  The "ruination" of a young Italian woman in the 1890s was a serious situation.  Nicolo "refused to have anything more to do with her," according to court testimony later.  

Michael accompanied Nicolo to Pasquelina's house in January 1891 where he tried to make peacemaker between the pair.  Michael later recalled, "At the close of the conversation Pasquelina said, "All right.  But if Nicolo doesn't marry me I will kill him."

Things became even more dire when Pasquelina found out she was pregnant.  The wedding was set for March 1, 1891, but Pierro did not show up.  Then the would-be bride discovered that he intended to sail to Italy the following day.  Pasquelina waited outside 190 Spring Street all night.  Finally, Nicolo stepped out of the door.  The Evening World reported, "Crazed by the thought that she was about to become a mother and driven to desperation by her lover's duplicity, she pulled down the pistol he had given her and shot him down."

Nicolo managed to stumble back to his room.  In court on May 20, Michael Pierro testified that his cousin, "told him that Pasquelina had shot him."  He died a few minutes later.

In August 1907, real estate operators Lowenfeld & Prager purchased the vintage house.  The following year they sold it to Guiseppe Sabbatino.  After decades of several families sharing the upper floors, 190 Spring Street was finally a single-family home.  Sabbatino was described by The Sun as "a wealthy real estate man."

The following year, on March 7, 1908, the Record & Guide reported that Sabbatino had contracted architect Max Muller to "improve" 190 Spring Street.  It is unclear exactly what the renovations entailed.

The Sabbatino's son, Nicholas was a musician by 1913.  He was apparently, as well, an obnoxious predator.  Around 6:00 on  the evening of December 23 that year, Patrolman Koelbe noticed Sabbatino hanging around the corner of Spring and Sullivan Streets.  Koelbe said later that Sabbatino was "carrying an umbrella and watching young girls leave a factory."  One after another, Sabbatino propositioned the girls, who were reportedly between 15 and 16 years old.

According to The Sun, Koelbe recounted, "I walked over and asked him where he lived and he said he lived in Spring street.  I said to him: 'If you don't go away from here, I'll lock you up.'" 

The smug musician replied, "Lock me up."  He was well aware he had nothing to fear even if he were arrested.  At the time, he had been apprehended at least six times, convicted, and in each instance his sentence was suspended.

Koelbe walked away, but "kept his eyes on the young man and afterward did lock him up," said The Sun.  This time, however, Sabbatino's fate would be far different.  Convicted again, Sabbatino's sentencing was scheduled for February 26, 1914.  He faced Judge Wadhams in General Sessions, who The Sun said, "approves of heavy fines and long terms for mashers." 

Wadhams declared, "The streets of our city can only be maintained as safe places in which girls and women can go to and from their work by the punishment of those who interfere and annoy them while on the streets." He sentenced Nicholas Sabbatino, "to five months on Blackwell's Island for annoying young girls on their way home from work."

Appropriately, given the long history of Muller's shop here, M. Cuzzi's Shoe Repairing occupied the store in 1941.  While the Sabbatinos still owned the building and lived here, a sign next to the residential entrance notes "ROOMS."  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Sabbatino family lived here at least through 1941.  By 1950, the upper floors were converted to apartments.  It became a center of the folk music scene.

Paul Clayton moved in around 1957.  Born in 1931, Clayton was instrumental in reviving folk music in the 1950s and 1960s.  Shortly afterward, Roger Abrahams took an apartment.  While living here, he recorded with Dave Van Ronk.  In his Bob Dylan's New York, A Historic Guide, Dick Weissman described 190 Spring Street as:

...an apartment building where a few folk singers and fans lived.  On Sunday evenings there were regular jam sessions.  The different apartments were basically divided into different music factions.  There was the bluegrass apartment, the ballad apartment, and so forth.  Future folklorist Roger Abrahams, professional folk singer Paul Clayton, and Village folk singer Gina Glaser were often in attendance.

The atmosphere at the time was captured in Robert Cantell's When We Were Good, The Folk Revival:

Roger Abrahams recalls the Sunday evening sings in Paul Clayton's apartment at 190 Spring Street; Pete Seeger, Dave Van Ronk, Theo Bikel, Bob Gibson, and Odetta made regular visits there.  Clayton had been collecting songs in the mountains above Charlottesville, bringing them to his Village companions with the bloom still on them.

A renovation completed in 1964 resulted in a two-family home.  An advertisement in The Villager on December 17 described the "Unique Upper Duplex" as, "two story, living room, fireplace, skylights, gourmet kitchen, dining area, bedroom, bath, beamed ceiling, paneled balcony."  The listed rent was $325, just over $3,000 per month by today's conversion.

It was during that alteration that the facade was substantially remodeled, the lintels removed and the dormer enlarged.

In the turbulent political and social 1960s, James C. Hormel was in Washington D.C. and a founder of The New Party.  He later described it as "the perfect environment for my own rebellion."  In his autobiography, Fit to Serve, Hormel says,

Within the span of three years, from 1965 to 1968, everything in my life changed.  I went from being a model husband and father to a divorcé; from a Republican to a very left-wing Democrat; and from a timid person to someone on the verge of taking charge of his life.

Part of that change was Hormel's acknowledgement of his homosexuality.  When Nixon won the presidency in 1968, Hormel writes, "I had to face the reality that The New Party was over."  He continues:

I went back to New York and moved into a skinny townhouse at 190 Spring Street in Soho, which was still like any other Italian neighborhood in the city, with grandmothers keeping watch from their windows and laundry strung out to dry.

Hormel not only moved into the lower triplex in 190 Spring Street, he purchased the building.  He remained here until 1972 when, while he was out of town, an electrical fire broke out, heavily damaging the building.  Later that year Hormel sold the property and moved to Hawaii.  (From 1999 to 2001, Hormel served as United States Ambassador to Luxembourg, the first openly gay man to represent the country as an ambassador.)

!90 Spring street and the house to its left were originally identical, part of Nathaniel Paine's group.

The venerable house with an astounding history still contains two residences.

photographs by the author

The Lost 1827 Azariah Ross House - 45 Dominick Street

 

image from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

Born in 1787 in New Jersey, Azariah Ross served in the War of 1812, then became a significant architect, real estate developer and builder (although he consistently understated his profession in directories as "mason").  On March 11, 1826, he purchased a substantial amount of rural land from Robert M. Livingston.  The deed demanded Ross "to convey it as a street to the Corporation" [i.e., the city] within 18 months, "otherwise it reverts to R. M. Livingston."  The new street would be named Dominick Street, after George Dominick, a French-born vestryman of Trinity Church.

Ross quickly developed Dominick Street with prim, brick-faced Federal-style houses, two-and-a-half stories tall.  He moved his family into one of the first, the 20-foot-wide 45 Dominick Street, and used it as his base of operation.  An advertisement in the New-York Evening Post on May 3, 1827, offered, "To Let, 3 elegant two story brick Houses in Dominick near Hudson street.  Possession given immediately.  Inquire of assessor, 45 Dominick street."

The mention of "assessor" referred to Ross's other profession.  In addition to his substantial development and real estate operation, he was one of the two Assessors of the Eighth Ward.  On June 22, 1827, the New-York Evening Post reported, "Public notice is hereby given that the Assessors of the Eighth Ward have completed their assessments, and that a copy thereof is left with Azariah Ross, 45 Dominick street, where the same may be seen and examined by any of the inhabitants."  (Today, no doubt, eyebrows would be raised if the builder and seller of many of the properties was also trusted with appraising their values.)

Azariah Ross was married to the former Elsie Van Buskirk.  When they moved into 45 Dominick Street they had two children, Edwin, who was eight years old, and Theodore, who was five.  Elsie was pregnant at the time, and Amelia was born in the house that year.  A fourth child, Leander, would arrive in 1834.  The family had a summer home in Rockland County.

By 1830, Ross had been appointed a Commissioner of Estimate and Assessment.  He continue his construction and architectural work, as well.  He would work with Frederick Law Olmstead and Calvert Vaux in the design and construction of the stone bridges of Central Park, for instance, and in the stonework at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point.

On December 13, 1839, Ross sold his home and the abutting house at 43 Dominick Street at auction.  (He would design and erect a striking Gothic Revival mansion at South Nyack, New York in 1856, where his family increasingly spent time.)

The Dominick Street house was purchased by Charles L. Vose, a merchant at 28 South Street.  His residency would be relatively short.  When he advertised 45 Dominick Street in 1845, he boasted that it "is in complete order and has all the modern improvements, Croton water, &c., probably the most convenient house in the city."

The mention of Croton water was significant.  It meant that 45 Dominick Street was one of the earliest to have running water.  The Croton Reservoir on Murray Hill (site of today's New York Public Library) had opened only three years earlier.

For nearly two decades, 45 Dominick Street saw a succession of occupants who most likely rented the house.  Then in 1863 it would become the long-time home of the Townsend Carpenter family.  

Carpenter was born in Purchase, New York in 1800.  He and his wife, Phebe, who were married in Purchase on October 5, 1823, were members of the Religious Society of Friends, commonly known as Quakers.  After relocating to New York City, they continued to maintain a home in Purchase, a Quaker community founded by John Harrison in 1695.  

Townsend Carpenter was a wholesale grocer at 308 Spring Street.  He and Phebe had three children, Isaac Thorne, born in 1825; David R., born two years later; and Adelia Augusta, born in 1829.    

On June 29, 1868, one month after Townsend's 68th birthday, he died "suddenly," according to The New York Times.  The term most often referred to a heart attack or stroke.  His death notice reflected the phraseology of the Society of Friends:

His friends and relatives are respectfully invited to attend his funeral, from his late residence, No. 45 Dominick-st., at 4 o'clock on Fourth Day (Wednesday) afternoon, and at Friends meeting house, Purchace [sic], at 11 o'clock Fifth Day morning.

The family was in Purchase on September 1, 1884, when Phebe Carpenter died at the age of 79.  Her funeral was held there, the notice in the New-York Tribune noting, "Carriages in waiting at White Plains Depot on arrival of the 8:30 a.m. train out of New-York."

Isaac T. Carpenter had taken over the operation of the family's grocery business.  Neither he nor Adelia married and lived quietly in the Dominick Street house for the rest of their lives.  The New-York Tribune mentioned that in his leisure time, Isaac was a member of the Manhattan Chess Club.

Around 1896, Isaac suffered a stroke.  Paralyzed, he was "confined to the house in care of nurses," according to the New-York Tribune.  Calling him, "one of the oldest residents of Greenwich Village," on December 17, 1902 the New-York Tribune reported that Isaac T. Carpenter had died. He was 77 years old.   The newspaper mentioned that he, "lived with a sister nearly as old."  There was no funeral in the Dominick house.  Instead, the body was directly transported to Purchase where the funeral was held in the Friends' Meeting House.

Amelia Augusta Carpenter lived on alone until November 19, 1915, when she died at the age of 87.  The New-York Tribune noted, "For the last fifty-two years she had been a resident of Greenwich Village, living during the entire period in the house where she died."  Like her family members before her, her funeral was held in the Friends' Meeting House in Purchase.

The extensive Carpenter real estate holdings was revealed the following year when Isaac T. Carpenter's estate was liquidated.  The auction in April 1916 included tenement buildings, factories, numerous houses, and vacant lots throughout the New York area and even a dwelling in Bar Harbor, Maine.  The Real Estate Record & Guide noted that Carpenter's will directed the proceeds to go to "over twenty-five charities as beneficiaries, including many hospitals."

Following World War I, William Sloane Coffin purchased many of the overlooked vintage structures in the neighborhood.  Included was 45 Dominick Street, which he leased to the Spring Street Church for its parsonage.  On April 18, 1920, The Sun noted (with one glaringly inaccurate historic detail), 

Mr. Coffin's first activity in the rehabilitation of Greenwich Village started seven or eight years ago, when he remodelled [sic] the parsonage of the Spring Street Church at 45 Dominick street.  This old house, like others in the neighborhood, has the quaint dormers and interesting Colonial doorway.  It is, as in the case of the others, built substantially of brick, with brownstone copings and a low front stoop with iron railings, and in this case, wrought iron posts [that] indicated the fact that at some time in its history, it was occupied by a Mayor of New York.

The same year of the article, construction began on the massive Holland Tunnel project that wiped out blocks of vintage structures.  The venerable Azariah Ross house, however, escaped the carnage by a mere block.  Nevertheless, in 1927, 45 Dominick along with the structures stretching to the corner of Varick Street, were demolished for a parking lot.

In 1954, a shed was erected on the parking lot to shelter the vehicles.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services. 

Construction began in 2006 of the 46-story Trump SoHo hotel on the site, engulfing the blockfront of Varick Street from Spring Street to Dominick Street.  The building was opened in 2008 and renamed the Dominick Hotel in 2017.

The Martin M. Myers House - 59 Sullivan Street

 

The two-and-a-half story house at 59 Sullivan Street, erected around 1820, was faced in Flemish bond brick.  Like scores of Federal style residences constructed at the time, the 26-foot-wide dwelling had a peaked roof with two dormers.

Likely the original owner, Martin M. Myers and his family occupied the house as early as 1827.  A lamplighter, Myers's profession was a relatively new one.  The laying of pipes under New York City's sidewalks for gas streetlights had begun in 1823.  Myers and his wife had three children, John M., William H., and Susan A.

In the rear yard was a smaller house.  Henry R. Bush, a laborer, and his wife and son; and Jeremiah Sproull, a carpenter, and his wife Sarah, shared the address with the Myers in 1827.  Presumably, the Bushes or the Sproulls (or both families) occupied the rear dwelling.

While most boarders were transient, remaining for relatively short periods, the Bush and Sproull families would be here for years.  Richard J. Bush, a mason, was still here in 1836.  He had been, as well, a volunteer firefighter in Fire Engine Company No. 1 as early as 1829.  Jeremiah Sproull died around 1836 and Sarah Sproull remained here until 1845.

In 1840, John M. Myers was old enough to work.  A wheelwright, he repaired wooden wheels for wagons, carriages, carts and such.  John's sister was studying for a profession at the time.  Susan A. Myers began teaching in Ward School No. 29 on Greenwich Street around 1853.  Her salary that year was $100--about $4,070 in 2025 terms.

In the meantime, Martin M. Myers had been incensed by his real estate tax bill in 1845.  He protested the assessment, and on May 5, 1846, the Committee on Annual Taxes admitted "that they made an error in copying the book" concerning "the assessed value of house and lot, No. 59 Sullivan Street."  The committee approved the $8.88 refund owed to Martin M. Myers for his overpayment.

Isabella Jewesson, who taught in the primary department of School No. 44 on North Moore and Varick Streets, possibly knew Sarah Myers through their professions.  Jewesson boarded with the Myers family through 1855 to 1858.

Around 1860, William C. Hanna and his family moved into 59 Sullivan Street, almost assuredly in the rear house.  He operated a significant construction business with his office at 66 Thompson Street.  The family would rent from Myers through 1869, after which William C. Hanna moved to Brooklyn.

Trow's New York City Directory, 1865 (copyright expired)

Two years into the Civil War, on March 23, 1863 Congress passed the Enrollment Act.  Using a lottery system, the draft augmented the numbers of troops within the Union Army.  Among the names pulled in the drawing on August 25, 1863 was William H. Myers.

During the war, former slaves fled northward.  They established the first black enclave around Minetta Lane and Minetta Street, which earned the nickname Little Africa.  The racially varied demographics had spread south 59 Sullivan Street by 1874, when Theodore Martin rented space from Myers, almost assuredly in the rear house.

On October 15 that year, The New York Times reported that he had narrowly escaped a fatal accident.  "Theodore Martin, aged thirty-eight, a colored man, residing at No. 59 Sullivan street, was caught between two trucks at Pier No. 8 North River [i.e., Hudson River], and had several ribs fractured."

The title to 59 Sullivan Street passed to John M. Myers following his father's death.  On April 8, 1876, the Record & Guide reported he had filed plans to raise the attic to a full floor at a cost of $600, about $17,600 today.  (The upper addition is marked by the change from Flemish to running bond brickwork.)  The builder matched the fenestration of the second floor and installed a denticulated cornice.

With the added space, John M. Myers's home became essentially a boarding house.  The Byrne family moved in by 1878.  James Byrne was a laborer, and Patrick and Terrence Byrne listed their professions as "hair."  They were, most likely, dealers in human hair for wigs and what today would be called extensions.

Mary Seaman, the widow of Charles Seaman, had moved into the house with her teenaged son, also named Charles, around 1878.  On February 15, 1879, The New York Times reported that Charles had been the key in busting a jewel theft ring.  Four teens, Louis J. Piatti, Nathan Lederman, John E. Tischer, and John E. Topping, operated a scheme by which Topping, who was a clerk in the jewelry firm of Jacob Marx & Co., routinely stole valuable items from the safe.  They hired Charles Seaman for $4 a week to take the stolen jewels to pawnshops and return the money to the gang.  Detectives told reporters that Seaman, "was an innocent party, and he was used by them to find out the truth."

A Mrs. Pose, who boarded here by 1883, operated a business that would be shocking today.  The New York Times reported on March 23, 1883 that Mrs. Rose Pardo had charged a former servant, Sarah Wallace, of murdering her six-month-old baby, Stella Hayward Levy Pardo, by poison.  In court, Rose Pardo explained they she had purchased the baby from Mrs. Pose.  The article said, 

Mrs. Pardo met the mother of the child, who is a stranger to her, at Mrs. Pose's house, and on being told that the child would be well cared for the mother, relinquished all right to her offspring to Mrs. Pardo.  The latter paid $10 for the babe and took her to her home.

Two years later, on November 25, 1885, Mrs. Pose placed an advertisement in The Sun for "a very fine boy."  The next day, a man posing as a customer arrived.  The Sun explained, "A young man who didn't need any babies, but who desired to inform himself upon all subjects, read the notice and determined to go and see what the boy was like."  When the visitor, "asked what kind of baby it was," Mrs. Pose was indignant.  The article said, 

Ignorance, she declared, was evident in the young man's every remark--deep and wicked ignorance.  That boy was a fine boy; he was only 3 days old, and remarkably intelligent for that age.  The erratic growth of black hair was a sign of strength and the rich coloring of his face indicated that he would grow up to have a very fair and very beautiful complexion.

Mrs. Pose told the visitor "that if his wife really wanted a nice, young baby he might take that one away for $2, providing, of course, that he had a good home to take it to."  Instead, the young man promised to tell any people who "yearn for a boy baby where to find one" and left.

By the turn of the century, the neighborhood around 59 Sullivan Street was part of what newspapers called "the Italian colony."  In 1903, the Spina family, which now owned the building, renovated the ground floor for its saloon.  Converting the ground floor to a commercial space necessitated an industrial grade beam, visible from the exterior.  A large window was flanked by doorways--one to the tavern and the other to the upper floors.  The entrances were accessed by twin stoops.

The renovation resulted a commercial space, seen here in 1928.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

The tavern's excise (or liquor) license was originally held by Francesco Spina.  By 1912, Anthony Spina held the license.  Rather than participate in the family's business, in 1916 Vincenzo Spina took a civil servant job as a "keeper" with the New York County jail.  He earned $1,000 a year--about $28,600 today.  In 1920, he received a significant raise to $1,330.

In the meantime, the Spina's renters were Italian-born.  In 1905, Vincenzo Timpone worked as a Dock Laborer at $55 per month.  Also living here that year was Giorgana Lozzetto, an organ grinder.  He and his friend, Domenico Arvane, "who lives just a few doors above him," according to The New York Times, were in the center of a ruckus on the night of August 17, 1905.

The article said that around 10:00 the two were heading home from Harlem.  "Giorgana was pushing the hurdy-gurdy, and Domenico was waddling along as well as he could, seeing that there were 700 pennies in his pockets."  As they passed by the Imperial Hotel, three Irishmen asked them to play Tammany.  As Gioragana played the song, police officer Ben Smith interrupted, saying "such music" could be not played after 7:00, according to The New York Times.  Perhaps thinking that the policeman was anti-Irish, passersby demanded that Giorgana play it again.  "They played it and again till they had earned $4."

As Smith hauled Giorgana and Domenico to the stationhouse, protesters followed, "arguing that in this free country a man ought to be allowed to play anything he chose, especially 'Tammany' in New York," recounted the article.  They offered the two Italians $5 to continue to play the piece on the way to stationhouse.  "Giorgiana struggled through the tune," said the story, while, "A crowd trailed behind, yelling industriously."  Although the two were briefly detained, they returned home having had made a windfall through the impromptu protest.

The Spinas' saloon ended with Prohibition.  During the Depression and World War II years, the storefront was home to a restaurant.  

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The venerable structure underwent a third substantial renovation in 1991.  In remodeling it to a two-family home, the storefront was bricked up, pseudo-Colonial entrances were installed, and a center bay window was added.

photographs by the author

The 1826 David Baldwin House - 31 Charlton Street

 

In 1826, David Baldwin--quite literally--built a new home for his family on land leased from Trinity Church.  A mason by trade, his two-and-a-half story house at 31 Charlton Street was faced in Flemish bond brick above a brownstone basement level.  The attic floor under the peaked roof held two prim dormers.  While some of the more upscale houses in the neighborhood boasted elaborate entrances with fluted columns and sidelights, the humbler single-doored entrance of the Baldwin residence was trimmed in simple rope carving.  The large and handsome leaded transom was an added expense.

The Baldwin family remained at 31 Charlton Street through about 1840, taking in one boarder at a time.  In 1827, John J. V. Westervelt, a grocer, lived with the family, for instance, and in 1836 the Baldwins' boarder was Richard H. Tittle, a shipmaster.

The late 1840s saw the family of William J. Ryckman occupying the house.  They had a serious scare around midnight on March 6, 1850.  The New York Morning Courier reported, "A black fellow who says his name is Dan Tucker, was found on Wednesday night by Mr. Wm. J. Ryckman, of No. 31 Charlton street, in his cellar, which he had broken into for the purpose of gaining admission to the house."  The Evening Post explained that Ryckman, "was disturbed by the noise.  He arose from his bed and went into the room where the thief was, when he was dangerously wounded by a dirk, by the rascal."

Tucker did not get far.  Ryckman's cries alerted the policeman on the block, Officer Sturges, who quickly arrested the would-be burglar.  As it turned out, Ryckman was fortunate in having sustained only a single stab wound, despite its seriousness.  What no one realized at the time, was that Tucker was not alone.  The New York Morning Courier said, "There were two accomplices with him, who succeeded in making their escape." 

Twelve days after the break-in, an auction advertisement appeared in the newspapers.  Among the properties being sold was, "The two story and attic brick house, and lease of lot known as No. 31 Charlton street."

The house was purchased by James Fowler.  The 65-year-old did not list a profession in city directories, suggesting he was retired.  Like the Baldwins, Fowler took in boarders.  Living with him from 1850 through 1855 were Mary Bogert, a widow, and her son, Henry, who was a bookkeeper.  The Bogerts moved to West 26th Street by 1856 when John Langdon moved into the house.

James Fowler was no doubt unaware that he had opened his home to a 21-year-old psychopath.  Langdon worked in the shoemaking shop of a Mr. McCoombs on Sixth Avenue.  A customer entered the shop on the evening of December 27, 1856 while McCoombs and Langdon were at work in the rear room.  After McCoombs responded to the front area, Langdon slipped his employer's pocketbook, which was laying on the work counter, into his pocket.  It contained $26 (about $1,000 in 2025 terms).  It was not, he later confessed, his first robbery.

That night, Langdon went to Brooklyn and bought a pistol for $6.  He explained later, "He determined to kill somebody and get some money."  Just after dawn the next morning, Peter Keegan, who ran a restaurant, the Railroad House near 36th Street in Brooklyn, left his residence.  Langdon considered murdering him, then, "after looking at him awhile thought he had but little money, and moreover thought it not a safe place."  Keegan unknowingly had narrowly escaped a violent death.

Langdon continued walking until he encountered Cornelius Cannon, a gardener, in front of a church on Third Avenue around 11:30 a.m.  Without speaking a word, Langdon shot him dead and took his wallet.  He was quickly arrested.

At the stationhouse, a reporter asked his motive.  The Albany, New York Morning Times reported, "he replied promptly, 'I never saw the man before, but I felt as though I could not stand much longer, and wanted money.  I shot the man for his money, and nothing else.'"  He added that he, "bought the pistol for the very purpose I used it for."  The reporter said, "These statements were made in such as manner as to lead me to suppose that he was the one least affected by the transaction."  

Fowler's subsequent boarders were, expectedly, more upstanding.  They included Thomas C. Pollard, a strawgoods merchant in 1856 and 1857; and Dr. Thomas Sinclaire in 1863.

James Fowler died in the Charlton Street house on March 18, 1863 at the age of 78.  The house had several occupants through the 1860s, and then was purchased by builder Nicholas Connor and his wife, Elizabeth, around 1870. 

Elizabeth Connor died on January 4, 1874 at the age of 35.  Her funeral was held in the parlor two days later.

On July 4 that year, the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that Nicholas Connor had filed plans to raise the attic to a full floor.  Listing him as "owner, architect and builder," the journal said the renovations would cost $700, or about $19,300 today.

Connor's upper floor addition was faced in running bond brick which remarkably matched the original color.  In updating the house, he installed pressed metal cornices over all the brownstone lintels and extended the parlor floor windows.  Somewhat surprisingly, he did not add an up-to-date Italianate cornice with prominent brackets.  The simple, dentiled fascia board, more expected in an earlier structure, suggests he may have repurposed the original cornice.

Once again, boarders were taken in.  Sharing the house with Nicholas Connor in 1876 and 1877, for instance, were the Donohue family and Albert How.  Both Patrick and Francis Donohue were clerks, and Albert How was a "driver."

By the turn of the century, 31 Charlton Street was operated as a boarding house.  In 1917, when Trinity Church began liquidating much of its property in Greenwich Village, William Sloane Coffin purchased numerous properties in the neighborhood, including 31 Charlton Street.  

Among Coffin's tenants in 1918 was Italian-born John Donodero.  The 31-year-old had just obtained his American citizenship on March 23, 1918, when he got into a serious argument with a German immigrant in Greeley Square.

The newspaper firms on Greeley Square published breaking news on bulletin boards.  With America involved in World War I, the boards attracted throngs when new articles were posted.  That afternoon, Ewald Rempke "made a remark that indicated total disbelief in the ability of the allies to win the war," reported The Sun.  The German's opinion did not sit well with the newly minted citizen.  "Right there Donodero started in," said the article.  He was backed up by "about 100 persons" in the square.

"Donodero had affixed himself to Rempke's ear and claimed credit for Rempke's black eye when the police finally managed to clear a way through the crowd," said the article, which added, "Rempke was saved by being arrested."  Both parties were taken to the West 13th Street police station.  Donodero was released, while Rempke was "locked up for investigation."

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

William S. Coffin sold 31 Charlton Street to Alice P. Todd in 1919.  Never converted to apartments, it was home to builder and civic reformer I. D. Robbins and his wife, the former Carolyn Marx, by the 1950s.  On March 10, 1960, The Villager reported that Robbins, "a Village resident for 27 years, tossed his hat in the ring for Congress here last week."  His bid was unsuccessful.

Born in Pittsburgh on December 1, 1910, Robbins had moved to New York City in 1933.  With his cousin, Lester Robbins, he built major projects like the Big Six Towers in Woodside, Queens, which provided housing for 1,000 families and a shopping center.  While living here he was president of the City Club and also sought nomination for Mayor.

The nearly 200-year-old house is still a single family home.  

photograph by the author

The Rev. Cornelius T. Demarest House - 21 King Street

 

Born in Tappan, New Jersey on January 23, 1786, Cornelius T. Demarest earned his degree in theology at Columbia University in 1804.  He married Margretta Lydecker in 1808 and the couple had one daughter, Penelope Doremus.

Rev. Demarest became the fourth pastor of the Dutch Reformed church in what was known as the English Neighborhood of New Jersey--the towns along the Hudson Palisades in Eastern Bergen County--on May 25, 1813.  But within a decade a serious schism occurred.  He and many of his congregation believed that the church had drifted away from the doctrine of the Dutch Reformed Church.

On February 18, 1824, the Classis of Bergen met, accusing Demarest of "abuse and false slanders uttered in private conversations" and of falsifying minutes of an earlier classis meeting.  When he refused to appear to answer the charges, he was judged guilty and suspended from his ministry.

Undaunted, Rev. Demarest moved his family to New York City and organized the True Dutch Reformed Church at 23 King Street.  It was completed in 1826, approximately the same year that a row of abutting, Federal style houses were erected.  The Demarest family moved into 21 King Street, next door to the church.

Like its identical neighbors, the Demarests' house was two-and-a-half stories tall, with two prominent dormers that pierced the peaked roof.  It was faced in warm Flemish bond brick.

The Demarest house originally was identical to its neighbor at 17 King Street, seen above.

Like almost all of their neighbors, the Demarests took in a boarder.  Living with the family in 1840 was Thomas Whybrew, a book dealer at 108 Broadway.  In 1845, they had two boarders, Sidney Curtis, who was in the hardware business; and John Z. Westervelt, a bookkeeper.

Rev. Cornelius T. Demarest died on December 26, 1862 at the age of 76.  Three days later his funeral was held in "the Dutch Reformed Church, in King-st.," as announced by The New York Times.

Margretta Lydecker Demarest offered the house for sale on April 7, 1865.  The advertisement said the "two story and attic house" was "replete with modern improvements," suggesting that gas lighting and possibly running water had been installed.

The house became home to the John Nichol family.  Born in Scotland around 1822, Nichol had been a partner with George Frederick Merklee in the iron foundry Merklee & Nichol at 53 Hamersley Street (later Houston Street).  When the firm dissolved in 1854, Nichol partnered with George W. Billerwell.  The year he moved his family in 21 King Street, he listed himself as "iron founder and manufacturer of Mettam's patent rolling iron shutters."

In 1869, the Nichols rented the top portion of their home.  Their advertisement in the New York Herald on May 3, read:

21 King Street, near Macdougal--For housekeeping, Second Floor and Part of Third; gas, bath and washtubs, $55 per month.  Also small rear House, $15; for adults only.

The rent for the upper portion of the house would translate to about $1,270 per month in 2024.  Nearly all the houses along the block had a small building in the rear yard, in this case a house.  The rent would equal $346 a month.

The ad was answered by Harriet L. Belmont, the widow of Simeon Belmont; and Augustus M. Vanraden, a grocer whose store was at 80 Spring Street.  It is unclear who lived in which space.

In 1871, the family of John Calvin Christie moved into 21 King Street.  The extended Christie family was well known to the Nichols.  William Christie had purchased 15 King Street in 1840, and David W. Christie, his son, operated a stable in John Nichol's former foundry on Houston Street.

Shortly after moving into 21 King Street, on June 7, 1871, John C Christie died at the age of 27.  His funeral was held in the house on June 11, followed by a service at the True Dutch Reformed Church.

The house was next home to David Broome, another iron founder and likely an acquaintance of John Nichol.  In 1875, it was purchased by James H. Noe and his wife, the former Katherine Mangels.  Noe was a highly successful brush manufacturer with a store and factory at 275 Greenwich Street.  It may have been the Noes who raised the attic to a full floor, adding in the process a handsome Italianate cornice.  On either side of the brackets were scrolled volutes, and between were ornate pressed panels of flowers, fruits and swags.

As had been the case with John Calvin Christie, Noe's residency would be cut short.  The summer that he purchased 21 King Street, Noe was expanding his factory by building an addition next door.  On Sunday morning August 22, he went to Greenwich Street to check on his business, "feeling a little uneasy about the premises, as a building was in process of construction adjoining, the ladders belonging to which afforded easy access to the roof of No. 275 [Greenwich Street]," explained the New York Herald.

Noe found the first and second floors "undisturbed," but as he started up to the third floor, he saw John Richard Dolan, sneaking down from the roof via the "scuttle," or trap door.  Dolan was known to police as "Dandy Johnny" and the "Beau Brummel of Five Points" for his expensive shoes and clothes.  More importantly, he was a street brawler, burglar and gangster.

Noe attempted to overpower the intruder, but Dolan hit him on the head with a "jimmy," or iron bar, three times.  Nearly unconscious, the bloodied Noe was tied up and robbed.  Before fleeing, Dolan told him, "It's twenty years for me if I'm caught!  I'll send somebody to untie you.  If you make a noise I'll come back and finish you."

Noe's cries for help eventually were answered by a neighbor, a Mrs. Harris.  She later said, "He was covered with blood from head to foot."  James Noe was taken to the Chambers Street Hospital where he died four days later.  With exaggerated Victorian prose, The New York Times wrote, "the dead wagon conveyed from the Chambers Street Hospital to No. 21 King street all that was mortal of Mr. Noe," adding, "its reception at his residence was marked by a scene of anguish which happily occurs but seldom in this City."

Eight months later, on April 22, 1876, the New York Herald reported, "John Richard Dolan was hanged yesterday morning in the yard of the Tombs Prison for the murder of James H. Noe."

The family of Matthew Black lived here by 1878.  Black was in the produce business as were his sons Matthew J. and Robert, whose families all lived here.

In the 19th and early 20th centuries, boys celebrated the Fourth of July with the shooting of pistols.  Not unexpectedly, it often ended tragically.  In his 1912 Independence Day, Robert Haven Schauffler said,

It then seemed to be a day wholly devoted to boyish pleasure and mischief, sure to be followed by reports of hairbreadth escapes and injuries more or less serious, sometimes even fatal...It was not uncommon then, nor is it now, to read of some sudden death, some irretrievable blindness or other injury caused by the explosion of a toy cannon or the misadventure of some fireworks on "the Fourth," as the day has come to be called.

The Black family was at their summer home in Bergen, New Jersey on the holiday that year.  Tragically, On July 7, 1878, The New York Times reported, "A boy named Robert Black, of No. 21 King street, died yesterday from the effects of a pistol shot wound accidentally received in Bergen, N. J. on the 4th...while he and another boy were carelessly handling a pistol."

The house was purchased by detective A. W. Thompson around 1890.  He had big plans for the property.  On October 25, that year, the Record & Guide reported that his architect, M. Snedeker, had filed plans for a "four-story brick flat" to replace the vintage house.  Something derailed the plans, however, and the Thompson family, who were currently living on West Houston Street, moved in.

By 1897, A. W. Thompson had died and his widow Adolphine and son, Charles S., were living here.  Charles had joined the fire department with Engine Company 19 on West 25th Street,  in 1887.  Now, in 1897, he was engaged to Jessie Graham. 

In 1892, Charles was fighting a large fire when a wall collapsed.  He suffered a serious head injury when he was struck by falling bricks.  The New York Journal and Advertiser explained, "His skull was fractured and several operations have since been performed on him."  For five years, Charles suffered excruciating headaches.  On May 4, 1897, the New York Evening Telegram said, "He has been suffering more than usual from them lately."

At 11:00 on May 3, 1897, Charles left the house to go to work.  Before going to the firehouse, he stopped at a drugstore because of his violent headache.  At 7:00 that night, he was brought home "between two firemen," as reported by the New York Evening Telegram, who told his mother he had been "acting very strangely."

Thompson said, "If you fellows knew how sick I am you wouldn't talk that way."  

Adolphine put him to bed.  An hour later, Jessie Graham, her father and brother stopped by to see how he was doing.  Charles came down to the parlor and while they were talking, his dog jumped onto his lap.

The little dog had been the mascot of his firehouse.  Its leg was crushed by an engine and the fire captain was going to shoot it.  Charles intervened, begged to let him have it, and nursed the crippled dog back to health.  Now, as it began to lick Charles's hand, he "became wild in an instant," as worded by the New York Evening Telegram.

Charles shouted, "There's that dog again!  Take him away!" and picked up his jackknife from the table.  He opened it and attempted to stab the dog.  The newspaper said,

Miss Graham interfered and Thompson turned on her.  His reason had left him and he was trying to stab the young woman when his mother rushed in and threw herself between them.  The insane fireman turned on her and tried to plunge the knife into her.  She only saved herself by throwing her arms around his neck and talking to him until be became calm.

An ambulance was called and just before midnight he was taken away.  The following day the New York Evening Telegram reported, "he lies in the insane pavilion at Bellevue."  The New York Journal and Advertiser reported the obvious, "the wedding day has been indefinitely postponed," while the Telegram said, "It is feared that he is hopelessly insane from the wound in his head."

In 1900, title to 21 King Street was transferred from Charles's name to Adolphine's.  In addition, she owned a house at 46 Barrow Street.  The following year, on October 27, 1901, she remarried.  Her new husband was David A. Whitaker, a marine engineer.  The bride was 51 and the groom 48.  

For two years, according to Adolphine, Whitaker was "a model husband."  Then things changed.  Whitaker began to "beat her cruelly," according to The New York Times.  He additionally used her money for investments, the profits of which he kept. She later told a judge, " I silently bore [the abuse] because of the fact that I was alone in the world and he was the only one I had...so even with all the brutality I continued to live with [Whitaker], hoping against hope that he would reform."

Things came to a climax on April 1, 1910.  That day Adolphine had ten teeth extracted.  The New York Times reported, "She suffered great pain, she said, and the dentist gave her a narcotic powder to apply to her gums."

Whitaker came home that night with a pail of beer.  He noticed the powder and was unusually agreeable for the rest of the evening.  Adolphine later testified,  "That night my husband was pleasant with me and I recall distinctly that before he retired he kissed me, which was an unusual state of affairs."

The next evening after supper Adolphine visited a friend who was sick with pneumonia.  When she returned, Whitaker and his clothes were gone.  He told friends his wife was attempting to poison him "with powder."

Adolphine sued for divorce in October "on the ground of cruelty and desertion," as reported by The New York Times.  But her problems were far from over.

Nearly a quarter of a century later, on March 19, 1925, the Brooklyn Standard Union reported that Adolphine, now 81 years old, had won her suit against her nephew, James O. Westberg and his wife, Mary F., to regain title to the house in which she lived at 172 Van Siclen Street in Brooklyn, "and at 46 Barrow Street and 21 King Street, Manhattan."  Adolphine's suit alleged that when David Whitaker left her and she became ill, James and Mary Westberg warned her that he "would return and take her property."  She said they pressured her into signing the title to the three properties over to them.  She won the suit and regained possession of 21 King Street and the other two properties.

In the meantime,  the Westbergs had been leasing 21 King Street.  Jerry A. Re lived here in the early 1920s.  He was affluent enough to own a Chandler touring car and a summer home in Monroe, New York.  In October 1922, he notified the Newburgh, New York police that his car had been stolen.  A few days later it was pulled over by a Newburgh police officer.  Driving it was Henry Re, Jerry's 21-year-old brother.  In the car with him was Isabel Hill, a 14-year-old runaway from Yonkers.

Henry Re was arrested for larceny, for stealing the car, and for a violation of Section 483 of the penal law, "which has to do with corrupting the morals of a minor," reported The Independent Republican of Goshen, New York.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The house was altered in 1932 and in 1936.  It was most likely during one of those renovations that the parlor floor was faced with stone.  Although never officially converted to apartments, there are three units in the house today.

photographs by the author