The 1888 Holy Cross School - 332-336 West 43rd Street

 

The parish of the Church of the Holy Cross was established in 1852.  The original church structure on West 42nd Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues was destroyed by lightning in 1867.  It was replaced by a Romanesque Revival structure designed by Henry Engelbert which survives.  

Directly behind the church on West 43rd Street was the Chapel of the Shepherd's Flock.  In 1887 it was razed to make way for the Holy Cross School.  Architect L. J. O'Connor's plans, filed in August, called for a five-story brick school building to cost $60,000--about $1.13 million in 2023.

O'Connor saved the parish money with his sparse use of stone.  The decorations of his Romanesque Revival structure were executed mostly in terra cotta--like the pronounced eyebrows over the arched windows and foliate intermediate cornices--and in brick, as in the handsome corbel table below the cornice.  Rough cut granite made its appearance in the bandcourses above and below the second floor and the entablatures over the two entrances which labeled them "boys" and "girls."

Gender-specific entrances were obligatory in Catholic schools.  Note the elaborate Romanesque carvings on either side of the doorways.

The construction of the relatively costly building came only after substantial fund-raising.  The parish of the Church of the Holy Cross, which sat within the bleak Hell's Kitchen neighborhood, was a poor one.  Despite the crime and poverty around them (and perhaps partly due to the strict, no-nonsense methods of the nun teachers), the students' names rarely appeared in newspapers for serious misbehavior.

The assembly room of Holy Cross School often served the community as a meeting place.  Locals, many of them newly-arrived from Ireland, crowded in on September 20, 1914 to hear Member of Parliament Richard McGhee (known popularly as Dick McGhee) speak on the Home Rule Bill he had introduced.  In reporting on the speech, the New-York Tribune titled its article "Says Ireland Is Free."  It quoted him saying, "The Irish people have no quarrel now with the British democracy.  The fight is over and a thing of memory only."  (As it turned out, he was being optimistic.  And when home rule was finally legislated in 1921, it merely triggered the Irish Civil War.)

A Holy Cross School success story was William Meehan.  Born in 1886, he saw the stage as his route out of poverty.  After he graduated he went into acting, debuting at the Casino Theatre in The Runaways in 1903.  The Irish immigrant boy became a success, appearing with his wife Violet Pearl for eight years before his untimely death in 1920 at the age of 34.

At the time of Meehan's death, the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood had not improved.  Greek immigrant Louis Sidoris and his wife lived in the district that year.  He was brutally abusive to his wife, who finally left him in 1920.  The 25-year-old woman temporarily moved in with her friend Mrs. Peter Segalas, who lived directly across from the school.  The New York Herald explained the arrangement would enable her to earn enough month to "be able to go back to her folks in Greece and be independent of the husband whose brutalities, she said, had forced her to leave." 

She was peeling potatoes for lunch on March 17, 1921 when Louis Sidoris burst into the apartment.  He pleaded for her to return to him.  When she refused, he said, "There is only one thing to do then," and pulled out a revolver.  He fired all six rounds, three of them hitting his wife.  Too shocked to move, Mrs. Segalas watched him grab the knife his wife had been using.  The newspaper reported, "He rushed through the apartment to a mirror in the parlor, slashed his throat and jumped to the street, three flights below."

The children of Holy Cross School, out of class for lunchtime, witnessed the body crash to the sidewalk.  They notified a nun who sent word to Monsignor Francis P. Duffy, rector of the church, who arrived to give last rites.

O'Connor's intricate terra cotta detailing includes masks, each of them slight different, between the smaller arches of the fifth floor.

While almost all of Manhattan buildings were electrified by the Great Depression, that was not necessarily the case with Hell's Kitchen tenements.  On October 23, 1929 "several hundred pupils of Holy Cross Parochial School, let by the Rev. Francis P. Duffy," as reported by The New York Times, joined in the funeral procession for six of their classmates.  The article said, "The procession of seven hearses, one gray and six white, attracted much attention as it moved through the streets."  Walter Cavanagh, a widower, and six of his seven children had died of gas asphyxiation in their apartment at 544 West 56th Street.  The children ranged from eight to eleven years old.

The Holy Cross students, many of whom had meager Christmases and Thanksgivings in their tenement homes, were not forgotten by businessmen and socialites during the holidays.  On December 23, 1937, The New York Sun reported, "Milk replaced Manhattans and Martinis as the favored drink at the Game Cock Restaurant...yesterday afternoon.  Jack Stutz, proprietor of the Game Cock, was host at his third annual Christmas party for about 200 under-privileged children of the Holy Cross Roman Catholic School."  The children, aged five to twelve, were entertained by actor Bert Lytell and "the Yippe Boys, currently appearing in the Broadway production 'Red, Hot and Blue.'"  After a turkey dinner, the children received "candy, books, gift stockings and dolls."

A sudden announcement from the New York Roman Catholic Diocese in January 2011 enraged many of the parents of Holy Cross students.  The New York Times reported that the school was being merged with the Sacred Heart of Jesus School on West 52nd Street, and the 43rd Street building closed.  The diocese explained that the Sacred Heart building "has the larger capacity" and was in better condition.

Parents complained of being "blindsided."  A parent writing to The New York Times in response said in part, "I find the use of the word 'merger' insulting as it is not a merger at all, but a closing."  Another said with caustic sarcasm, "Will the new name for the combined schools be called, 'Cross Your Heart'?"

In 2013 the building became home to the the private De La Salle Academy.  Founded in the 19th century as a co-educational Roman Catholic school, today the 6th through 8th grade institution focuses on "academically talented, economically less advantaged children of diverse backgrounds," according to its website.

After 135 years, L. J. O'Connor's imposing educational fortress is little changed, a commanding reminder of a far different period in Hell's Kitchen.

photographs by the author

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Donnelly Brothers' Saloon - 597 Hudson Street (14 Abingdon Square)

 

In the early 19th century, the block-long stretch of Hudson Street between Bethune and West 12th Streets took the name of the little park it faced--Abingdon Square.  Like the others on the block, the upscale house at the corner of Bethune, 14 Abingdon Square, was four-stories tall and faced in brick.  By the end of the century, however, the affluent personality of the neighborhood had greatly changed.  In 1893 developer James W. Ketchum purchased the vintage residence, and replaced it with a store-and-apartment building.

Designed by architect Thomas E. Goodwin, the five-story structure was his somewhat commercial take on the Romanesque Revival style.  Faced in yellow brick and sparsely trimmed in brownstone, most of its ornamentation was executed in brick--the rustication of the second floor, the voussoirs and arched eyebrows of the third and fourth floor windows, and the striped effect of the fifth floor.  Somewhat surprisingly, Goodwin's configuration of the openings on the Abingdon Square elevation followed that of livery stables.

The four- or five-room apartments were marketed as "elegant" with "bath & all improvements."  Rent for a five-room corner apartment was $27, or about $775 per month by 2022 standards.  Perhaps confusing to visitors was that the building had three addresses--14 Abingdon Square, 597 Hudson Street, and (for the westerly store) 6 Bethune Street.

Kethum sold the building to Meyer I. Sire, who, in turn, leased it to Thomas and Michael Donnelly.  The Irish-born brothers opened Donnelly Bros. saloon in the corner space.  They lived in the building, as did their brother James (who would work as a bartender downstairs for years), and sisters Ellen and Catharine.

Senator John Raines had a problem with saloons like the Donnellys'.   In 1896 he wrote a new state liquor tax legislation, known as the Raines Law.  It increased the cost of liquor licenses, raised the legal drinking age from 16 to 18, and banned liquor sales on Sunday, except in hotels with at least 10 rooms and which served the drinks with a meal.  It sparked the nearly omnipresent "Free Lunch" signs that hung over saloon bars.

The Donnellys responded by deeming 14 Abingdon Square a hotel and providing sandwiches with drinks on Sundays.  At 9:00 p.m. on Sunday, July 26, 1896, a plain clothes policeman named Geraghty walked in and ordered a beer and sandwich.  As he lingered, he took note of the other patrons.  He would later swear he saw "people who were drinking in the place, without the formality of also ordering sandwiches," and that he overheard Thomas Donnelly "telling a friend how easy it was to beat the present law by simply serving a sandwich, whether ordered or not."

After about 20 minutes, Geraghty walked to the door, but returned to his seat and ordered a second beer.  When he was served without a sandwich, he arrested Thomas Donnelly.  In court two days later, Donnelly insisted that because Geraghty had not left the saloon, he could legally sell him a second beer with his initial sandwich.  The magistrate agreed; however he held Donnelly on $1,000 bail awaiting trial "on the sworn statement of the policeman that he saw drinks served without a sandwich, and also, that he heard the defendant explaining how he beat the law."

Despite such problems, the brothers' success was such that in 1899 Michael and Thomas Donnelly purchased the building.  As was common among saloon owners, they partnered with a brewery, agreeing to sell only that firm's beers and ales.  For years they did business only with the Bernheimer & Schwartz Brewery.

Among the Donnellys' upstairs tenants at the turn of the century was Augustave Duffy, who made his living as a clerk.  It seems he had the day off on Wednesday, June 24, 1903, because he traveled to Stimmel's Park, in Whitestone, Queens to play baseball.  His day of recreation did not end well.  The 25-year-old Duffy was pitching, when he "was struck under the chin by a ball and received a lacerated wound that required the attention of Dr. B. Folzer," according to The Brooklyn Daily Eagle.  It was a significant injury, the article noting, "He was taken home by friends."

In July 1915 Michael and Thomas Donnelly transferred the title of the building to their sisters, Ellen and Catharine.  (Interestingly, the liquor license for the saloon had been in Ellen's name since 1908.)  Two months later, on July 12, The New York Press reported that the women had sold the property to "the No. 14 Abingdon Square Company, a new concern."  

The following year, H. J. Goodwin, an electrical contractor, took the commercial space at 6 Bethune.  The Donnellys' saloon continued in the corner space for years.

Despite the onset of Prohibition on January 17, 1920, the Donnelly Brothers' saloon forged on, apparently still selling contraband beer.  Michael Nesil was tending bar on the night of November 30, 1922.  He was chatting with his two customers when three armed men walked in and announced a stick-up.  One walked out again and stood watch.  Nesil was held at gunpoint while the third crook went behind the bar, headed for the cash register.  Nesil picked up a beer bottle and smashed it over the thief's head, who cried out, "Let him have it!"

The gunman fired two shots, both of which entered Nesil's stomach.  As the bartender fell to the floor, the robber opened the cash register and took out the $30.  The two joined their accomplice outside where they were confronted by members of the V.F. W. Michael Lynch Post next door who had heard the shots.  One, Patrick Heney, grabbed the gunman, "but the bandit twisted the gun upward, jabbed it against Heney's stomach and pulled the trigger," reported the New York Herald.  Amazingly, this time the firearm jammed.  The crook managed to free himself and the trio ran down Bethune Street, making their escape in a waiting car on Greenwich Street.

Within minutes Patrolman Shaw arrived.  He sent for an ambulance for Michael Nesil, who was taken to St. Vincent's Hospital.  He died there shortly after midnight.

Seven months later, on June 17, 1923, Ed Sheeran was arrested, accused with five other men of assaulting and attempting to rob Thomas Drayton.  The Sun and The Globe reported, "Screams of nurse girls out with children of the neighborhood for the early morning air saved the life of Drayton."  Sheeran gave his name as John McGuiness, but his fingerprints proved his true identity.  They also linked him to the Nesil murder.

The Sun and The Globe reported, "he did not deny that he was in the saloon of Thomas Donnelly, 597 Hudson street, when the bartender Michael Naasel [sic] was killed.  Sheeran is the man alleged to have done the shooting."

The tenants of the building, for the most part, came and went without drawing attention.  That was not the case with Walter Forster and his wife Annetta, who lived here in the early Depression years.  On January 6, 1936 they were arrested with four others in what the Long Island Daily Press called "One of the biggest life insurance fraud rings ever uncovered--a ring which may even have dealt in murder."

Knowing that his brother, Frederick, was dying of cancer and that he had no communication with his estranged wife, Paul Bottiger conceived a scheme.  Using the name Ewald Rottiger, Walter Forster underwent physical examinations, and took out 30 life insurance policies on himself, totaling more than $1 million (nearly 20 times that much in today's money).  When Bottiger died, Paul had him cremated under the name of Ewald Rottiger.  

The scam fell apart when Clara Bottinger discovered her husband had died and tried to cash in the legitimate life insurance police.  The Long Island Daily Press said she "could not collect on it because her husband's name had been changed on the death certificate."

As it turned out, the scheme went even further.  The newspaper reported, "The Forsters, who were the first to be questioned by police, said...that there were 'many other dead men' upon whom policies had been taken."

In the 1960's the former Donnelly Brothers' saloon space became home to the Bus Stop Coffee Shop.  Like its predecessor, it would become a fixture on the corner, still there six decades later.

photograph by the author

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The Building With Remarkable Bad Luck - 807 (813) Park Avenue

The soot-belching locomotives that ran down the center of Park Avenue in the third quarter of the 19th century made the thoroughfare marginally fashionable at best.  A mish-mash of small stores and houses crammed some blocks, while others were developed as harmonious strings of rowhouses.  In 1898 developer George S. Hall hired the architectural firm of Neville & Bagge to design four five-story flat buildings with stores on the east side of Park Avenue, between 74th and 75th Street.

A mix of Romanesque Revival and Renaissance Revival styles, they were completed the following year.  Like its identical neighbors, 813 Park Avenue held a store at street level.  Its red brick facade featured arched openings with elaborate terra cotta keystones at the second and fourth floors.  A cast metal cornice and frieze completed the design.

The building was intended for middle-class families.  There were a total of nine apartments, one of which shared the ground floor with the store, and two each on the upper floors.  Upon its completion in 1899, Hall sold the building to real estate operator David Israels.

The residents were not wealthy enough to be followed by the society columns.  Their names appeared in newspapers for less fashionable reasons.  Such was the case in July 1910 when Arthur Blower visited Oliver Herbert here.  Blower had been a well-known caterer with the famous Sherry's restaurant for fifteen years.  The New-York Tribune said he had "made a wide reputation as a caterer, and he was in charge of many of the large affairs given by the leaders of society."  While visiting Herbert on July 13 he suffered a fatal heart attack.  The newspaper said, "News of Blower's death caused deep regret at Sherry's."

At the time Oscar Larson and his wife, Tootsie, operated what The New York Times described as "a Swedish massage establishment" here.  It is unclear whether they ran the business from the store space or their apartment.

By the end of World War I Park Avenue saw the rise of upscale apartment buildings that rivaled those of Madison and Fifth Avenues.  The outmoded building at 813 Park Avenue was decidedly out of place, and the advent of the Great Depression did not help.  In June 1932 its owners, the 813 Park Avenue Corporation, sought "a reducing in the value for 1932 tax purposes," as reported in The New York Sun.

But, oddly enough, as the rest of the block was demolished to make way for modern apartment buildings, the owners held out, refusing to sell.   By the last quarter of the 20th century, the value of the address far exceeded that of the building.

via the NYC Dept. of Records & Information Services

In 1980, according to real estate agent Helen Downey speaking to The New York Times, "it was a shambles.  The top floors seemed little more than a few boards across the rafters."  The following year a group of investors, Panjandrum Realty, purchased it for $3 million. 

On July 25, 1982, The New York Times wrote, "When the modest apartment house at 813 Park Avenue was just five stories tall and 25 feet wide, it was not all that noticeable.  Flanked by taller and more elegant neighbors at the 74th and 75th Street corners, it seemed to recede into its midblock site.  Now, however, it has been transformed into luxury-class apartments, growing six stories taller in the process."

The building had been vacant for several years before a group of investors called in the architectural firm of Weisberg, Castro Associates to renovate and enlarge it.  The firm deftly designed the upper floors to mimic Neville & Bagge's original 1898 architecture.  There were now a total of 12 apartments in the building.

photo by Jack Manning, The New York Times Mach 2, 1986

But the investors' grand project failed.  On March 2, 1986 Richard T. Lyons, writing in The New York Times, said, "The building seems jinxed, hoodooed, snakebitten, sitting there for years on Park Avenue in the Upper East Side Historic District--empty."  Why the new apartments drew no interest was a conundrum.  The Rev. James H. Cupit, Jr., pastor of the Episcopal Church of the Resurrection on East 74th Street said, "It's the mystery of the neighborhood.  I am astounded that this piece of prime real estate has been there vacant all these years."

Dr. Gamil Ghaleb, one of the investors, lamented:

What happened to the building?  I'll tell you what happened to the building.  We bought the building, we fixed up the building.  Eight million went into acquisition and rehabilitation, plus another $500,000 on soft costs.  And it's gone!

The investment was "gone" because the property was lost in foreclosure to the bank when it proved unsellable.   In 1990 a development group, 813 Associates, undertook another remodeling that would result in three "town house-style residences with a common lobby," as reported by The New York Times on October 26.  The article said, "One dwelling will occupy five floors, including a basement level with a greenhouse and a small pool.  The two others each have four floors.  All are priced at $5 million."  

A vast studio window now spanned the ninth and tenth floors.

At least one of the apartments sold--to music mogul Sean Combs.  According to one source, he envisioned the address as a private mansion and shortly afterward, in 1999, purchased the entire building for $12 million.  And then he changed his mind.  In 2000 he put the building on the market, but was unable to sell for four years.  Aion Partners paid $14.3 million, $3 million less than Combs's original price.

The firm soon discovered it had purchased what seemed to be a cursed property.  On March 9, 2008 The New York Times journalist Josh Barbanel wrote, "No. 813 has been an unlucky address on Park Avenue for almost a quarter of a century...Since the early 1980s it has been under construction, in foreclosure, or on the market more often than not."

That year Aion hired interior designer Eric Cohler to redesign the interior spaces.  And it got rid of the ill-fated address containing the lucky "13."  The firm managed to have the property renumbered 807 Park Avenue.

The new address did not help.  In December 2014 the Aion Partners petitioned the Landmark Preservation Commission for permission to demolish and replace the building.  They tried three times, each time the proposal being rejected.

Stunning interiors like this could not draw buyers.  photo via compass.com

In March 2016, Aion Partners put the building back on the market for $30 million.  On March 27, 2017 Curbed New York reported, "One of the Upper East Side's most troubled buildings is trying its luck again, and this time around developers are marketing it as a massive, 12-story single family mansion."  

The future of the seemingly cursed holdout remains uncertain.

photographs by the author

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Alfred Zucker's 1892 5-7 East 16th Street

 

Steps from Fifth Avenue and a block west of Union Square, the houses at 5 and 7 East 16th Street sat within the city's mansion district in the Civil War years.  But by the mid-1880's businesses were overtaking the grand homes as their owners moved ever northward.  In February 1886 Mary A. Lyddy hired architect W. Jones to renovate 5 and 7 East 16th Street into "studios and offices," according to the plans.  Two-story iron storefronts replaced the high stoops.

Apparently not content with the results, only five years later Lyddy demolished both buildings and hired Alfred Zucker to design an eight-story loft building at a cost of $120,000--around $3.5 million in today's money.  The prolific architect would be responsible for dozens of loft, hotel and office buildings in New York.  

His design incorporated a two-story Romanesque Revival base faced in undressed brownstone.   The large entrances that flanked the storefront reflected the English Norman style with compound arches and clustered colonnettes.  On either side of the central opening of the second story were paired arched windows fronted by charming balconettes.  The upper six floors completely changed personality.  Here Zucker turned to a more manicured Renaissance Revival design, and clad the façade in beige brick trimmed in matching terra cotta.  

Lyddy gave her project a name, one that would not catch on.  On November 14, 1891 the Real Estate Record & Guide wrote, "The 'Geraldine,' the eight-story building which is being erected on 16th street, east of 5th avenue, for Mary A. Lyddy...is now up to the roof.  The Guastavino arches are noticeable in the present unplastered condition of the building."  The district had become popular with publishing firms and the strength-giving arch system would be necessary to accommodate heavy printing presses.  The article additionally noted, "The terra cotta work in the front of the building is very credible."

The structure was completed in January 1892 and quickly filled with printers and publishers.  Among the first was the weekly magazine The Illustrated American, which advertised itself as "The handsomest news magazine in the world.  Brilliant and beautiful, clean, instructive, and entertaining."

Two other initial tenants were the Stanley-Bradley Company, and the United States Book Company, which also ran its bookstore in the building.  Among the latter's releases in 1892 were Arthur Conan Doyle's The White Company, and three new books by J. M. Barrie including his highly successful The Little Minister.

Scribner's Magazine, December 1892 (copyright expired)

By the latter part of the decade The New York Times Educational Line, which offered an encyclopedia on an installment plan; The Baker & Taylor Co., publishers of school and college textbooks; and Frederick A. Stokes Company leased space in the building..

Frederick A. Stokes published a wide range of books.  In 1899, for instance, it offered several new books for boys, including Stephen Crane's Active Service, Tom Hall's The Fun and Fighting of the Rough Riders, and Jack, the Young Ranchman; or a Boy's Adventures in the Rockies.  For women and girls it offered Maud Humphrey's The Golf Girl; Robert Barr's Jennie Baxter, Journalist; and Cupid and the Footlights by James L. Ford.  There were classics, as well, like Oliver Goldsmith's The Vicar of Wakefield and Thackeray's History of Henry Esmond.

The New-York Daily Tribune, December 15, 1900 (copyright expired)

The tenant list began to change around 1904.  While Frederick A. Stokes Company, the Globe School Book Co., and Neumann Bros. bookbinding were still in the building, garment manufacturers were taking space.  In 1904, two new tenants were the embroidery firm of Leon Jobin and Oppenheim & Neuglass, makers of "women's fashionable high grade tailor made suits." 

An advertisement appeared in the Record & Guide on October 15, 1904 that read, "To Settle an Estate the following property will be sold cheap for cash:  Nos. 5 and 7 East 16th St."  The asking price was $210,000--or about $6.3 million today.  It was purchased by Carrie M. Butler.

Five years later she hired the architectural firm of Israels & Harder to enlarge the building by removing the parapet and adding four floors.  Although they copied Alfred Zucker's overall design, none of the ornamentation of the lower floors was continued, making the addition noticeable.  At the same time the top floors were joined internally with 85 Fifth Avenue.

All of the tenants were now involved in the garment industry.  In 1912 they included Hut Neckwear Co.; Louis Kramer's silk neckwear factory; and Picadilly Waist Co.  The waist, or shirtwaist, was the most popular item of women's apparel at the time and Picadilly Waist Co. employed 60 women in its factory.  It had one man on its payroll, presumably the foreman.

In 1919 Golinko & Marks, makers of children's clothing, occupied the fourth floor.  On the morning of November 12 the foreman, Samuel Block, opened the shop to find "the entire floor in confusion," as worded by The Evening World.  The company's safe had been blown open and the explosion "scattered valuable ginghams and linens, scorched and torn."  The safe was empty.

Block telephoned police.  They soon discovered that the burglars had gone throughout the building.  On the fifth floor they had pried open the safe of T. Buchwald, makers of waists.  They removed a strong box and blasted it open.  John W. Burt, manufacturer of umbrellas and parasols on the sixth floor, had also fallen victim.  The "safe had been dynamited and many rolls of valuable silks had ben taken from smashed cabinets."

The bold robbers used bolts of cloth, brought upstairs from Golinko & Marks to deaden the sound of the explosions.  They left the singed remains on the floor of the hosiery firm Wallach & Mayer, Inc., on the seventh floor.  There they had blown open two safes.  Police theorized that one of the thieves hid in the building until after hours, then let his confederates into the building.  Although a precise accounting could not be taken while the police were still investigating, the initial estimate of the total loss was half a million in today's dollars.

The 1920's continued to see apparel firms occupy the building.  Among them were the Reliable Manufacturing House, Schockett Leather Goods, and the Royal Costume House.  One  tenant, however, was, perhaps, unexpected.  On July 3, 1922 The New York Times reported that Edward F. Cassidy, "a former alderman and the Socialist nominee for Mayor last year, was named as the party candidate for Governor by the Socialist State convention at 5 East Sixteenth Street yesterday."

The third quarter of the 20th century saw change come to the neighborhood.  In 1979 the Union Square Theater occupied space in the building, as the high-ceilinged lofts of the upper floors lured photography studios.  Among them was Frank Cowan, who shot ads for corporate clients like Levi's, Pampers and Volkswagen.  He took the top floor in 1970 when a handbag manufacturer moved out, paying $550 per month rent.

Unfortunately for tenants like Cowan, landlords took full advantage of the increasingly trendy tenor of the neighborhood.  In 1981 when his lease expired, Leon Sutton raised his rent to $2,000 per month.

By now the internal connections with 85 Fifth Avenue had been closed off.  In 1987 the Manhattan Cooking Center, a culinary school that offered tastings and lectures, occupied space.  And for years starting around 1994 Ann Sack's Tile and Stone showroom was in the ground floor space.

A renovation in 2008 resulted in apartments on the fourth, fifth, and seventh through twelfth floors--one per floor.

photographs by the author

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The Mary Emma Millett House - 57 West 94th Street

 

Increase M. Grenell acted both as the developer and the builder for his row of seven comfortable rowhouses on West 94th Street between Central Park West and Columbus Avenue.  He hired Charles M. Youngs to design the houses in 1890.

Youngs, who had been working in New York for at least a decade, is little known today.  His obscurity is possibly because much of his work, it seems, was in making renovations to existing buildings.  And so, perhaps, the 94th Street row would be his crowning work.  

He gave each house its own architectural personality while complimenting the rest of the row.  Blending prim Renaissance Revival elements with more rugged Romanesque Revival components, he created hybrid designs that were quintessentially 1890's in taste.

No. 57 West 94th Street was a bit more staid than some of its neighbors.  Solid wing walls took the place of iron stoop railings.  The chunky undressed voissoirs over the parlor windows drew from the Romanesque Revival style and stood in stark contrast to the delicate Renaissance Revival carvings of the panels and frieze at this level.

The second floor was spartan in its decoration, while at the top floor were another two Renaissance inspired panels.  Here a continuous drip molding that smacked of Gothic Revival joined the openings.

A crane nibbles on berries within the beautifully executed parlor floor panel.

The newly-completed residence was sold in April 1891 for $26,000--just over $750,000 today.  The buyer was David Goldstein, a Polish-born jeweler.   His family remained in the house until around 1895, when it became home to Fredric M. Langdon, a partner in The de Brackeleer Importing Company, Ltd., wine and liquor merchants.

In 1898 No. 57 was purchased by Mary Emma Millett, the widow of Stephen Caldwell Millett who had died in 1874.  Up to the time of his death he had been involved in the construction of the Port Royal Railroad.  Mary was the daughter of Alonzo and Mary Goodrich Child.

Moving into her new house with her were her adult children, Stephen Jr., Mary Goodrich and Kate Child Millett, as well as her unmarried brother, Julius Pratt Child.  

A banker, Stephen went professionally by his first initials.  He was perhaps as well known as an amateur tennis player.  The year before moving into the West 94th Street house he had won the Metropolitan Tennis Tournament.  His sisters, who received less press attention, also played in tennis tournaments.

(original source unknown)

Julius Pratt Child was well-known among downtown businessmen.  In September 1885 he had opened a restaurant, The Exchange Buffet, directly across from the Stock Exchange building.  (He predated the Childs Restaurant, opened by the unrelated Samuel and William Childs, by five years.)

The house was the scene of a joyous gathering on November 14, 1899.  A reception was held here following Kate's marriage to John Breckenridge Gibson in St. Agnes' Chapel on West 92nd Street.  

Julius Child died on August 27, 1901.  The New York Times noted that his restaurant, "was the resort of many down-t0wn business men" and said, "He was unmarried and lived with a sister at 57 West Ninety-fourth Street."  

Stephen took over the reins as president of the Exchange Buffet Corporation.  By now he was, as well, a director in the Mutual Milk & Cream Company and the Merchants' Fire Assurance Corporation.  On February 10, 1902 he married artist Thalia Westcott and the following year he organized the banking firm of Millett, Roe & Hagen.

James Montgomery Flagg painted this portrait of Thalia Westcott Millett in 1902, the year she married Stephen Millett.  image via swanngalleries.com

In March 1902 Mary Emma Millett sold No. 57 West 94th Street to C. J. Rose and his wife, Elizabeth.  She most likely moved into Stephen and Thalia's massive new estate at Irvington, New York.

Stephen and Thalia Millett moved permanently into the mansion in Irvington.  photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Stephen's and Thalia's marriage did not end well.   Thalia divorced him in 1920 to marry Donald C. Malcolm.   But things turned uglier when Stephen remarried.  Thalia sued, charging that "her ex-husband's second bride was an unfit person to rear her children," reported the Daily News.  The article said Thalia "dug up an impoverished woman living on the outskirts of the French capital," whom she presented as the bride's mother. "The action created a furore [sic] in exclusive society on both sides of the Atlantic."

In the meantime, the Roses sold No. 57 in 1903.  It became home to the family of Michael W. Murphy and his wife, Annie.  The couple had three sons, William A., Joseph M., Edward J. and David J., and a daughter Ann.

With the outbreak of World War I Joseph joined the Army.  In 1918 he was promoted to Lieutenant.

Annie A. Murphy died on January 20, 1920.  Her funeral was held in the house two days later followed by a mass at the Church of the Holy Name on West 96th Street.

After 1926 No. 57 seems to have been operated as a high-end boarding house.  Then, in 1944, it was converted for the Studios of Music Education.  The renovations resulted in a "private school for music instruction" in the basement and parlor level, and a duplex apartment on the upper floors for the owner.

The house in 1941.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The Studios of Music Education was established in 1934.  The 1939 Federal Writer's Project book New York Learns had explained, "It has long been an objective of music educators to correlate daily musical activities with elementary school lessons.  The Studios of Music Education pursues this combination."

By the 1960's the school was known as the New York School of Musical Education.  An unexpected fund raising project was the publication of the Squash Family Cookbook by Marjorie B. Zucker in 1977.  The New York Times food critic Craig Claiborne on July 17, 1978 called the book "modest but gratifying" and noted, "The book's profits are for a good cause, too: the School of Music Education in New York."

The school left West 94th Street around 1986 and the house was converted to an apartment in the basement, a duplex on the first and second floors, and one apartment on the third.  That configuration lasted until a renovation completed in 2007 brought the house back to a single family home.

Only three of the original row of seven survive. 

Despite half a century of institutional use, the exterior of the Millett house is nearly unchanged.

photographs by the author

The 1891 Schermerhorn Building - 696-702 Broadway

William Colford Schermerhorn (a distant cousin of Caroline Schermerhorn Astor) was educated in private schools and graduated from Columbia College in 1840.  An attorney, he lived in the family mansion at the corner of  Lafayette Place and 4th Street until 1860.  Late, as his former elegant neighborhood changed, he replaced former mansions with modern commercial buildings.

In 1890 he partnered with his cousin, Frederick Augustus Schermerhorn, to erect a substantial store and loft building one block away from his old home, at the northeast corner of Broadway and West 4th Street.  Architect George B. Post designed the imposing structure, which was completed in 1891.

The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, April 29, 1893 (copyright expired)

The tripartite Romanesque Revival design consisted of a two-story base clad in rough-cut brownstone, a brick mid-section which took the form of four-story arches, and a top section consisting of paired, two-story arched openings.  Here the individual windows were separated by thin, engaged and clustered columns; and the pairs of windows by brick piers wearing brownstone capitals.

Despite Post's solid reputation, the Schermerhorn Building was met with a biting review from the Record & Guide.  The writer said the site of the building could have provided opportunity, "having an unusually ample frontage on Broadway, and ample depth on the side street."  And he praised the entrance as being "in general very good and it is the most effective feature of the building."

The architectural critic of the Record & Guide noted that the entrance "spandrils [sic] are richly carved."

The critic found fault with the decoration of the mid-section, but admitted "This does not prevent this central part of the building from being impressive.  The main difficulty of the composition arises with the attic [i.e., top section]...The effect is undoubtedly awkward and ineffective."  The rather scathing critique went on in detail for half a page.

On March 17, 1891, just as the Schermerhorn Building was nearing completion, a massive fire destroyed the eight-story building at Nos. 104-106 Bleecker Street.  It took more than a day to extinguish the blaze.  Among that building's tenants was men's apparel manufacturer Hammerslough, Saks & Co., who suffered a loss of $300,832.35--an astonishing $8.7 million today.

An advertisement demonstrated that the firm could fit a customer of any size or shape.  (original source unknown)

Despite the massive financial blow, Hammerslough, Saks & Co. was able to relocate into the new Shermerhorn Building.  The firm consisted of Samuel Hammerslough and Andrew and Isadore Saks.  It was described as "one of the largest wholesale clothing businesses in New York."

At a time when many garment factories pushed back against organized labor, Hammerslough, Saks & Co. avoided strikes by working with the unions.  At a meeting of the Garment-Workers' Trade Council on November 25, 1893, complaints were received about certain factories "who were said to discriminate against union men and to give their work to sweating-shop contractors."  The minutes noted "Hammerslough, Saks & Co., it was stated, are employing union men only."

In 1894 Andrew and Isadore Saks retired, turning the management of the firm entirely over to Samuel Hammerslough.  The name was changed to Samuel Hammerslough & Co.

By now the name of the Schermerhorn Building was rarely used, most likely because of rampant confusion.  In 1888, three years before this building was completed, William C. Schermerhorn had erected a six-story structure at the corner of Lafayette and Great Jones Street which he also named the Schermerhorn Building.  And to make things more tangled, a third Schermerhorn Building, owned by John Jacob Astor, was located downtown at No. 96 Broadway.

Around 6:00 on the evening of October 25, 1895 three electricians who had been working in the building prepared to go home.  The entered the freight elevator and attempted to run it themselves.  The New York Times reported "Being inexperienced with the management of elevators, they stopped it so suddenly that the cable broke.  The elevator fell with sufficient force to smash the platform and throw the men in a heap on the floor."

The car plummeted to the sub-basement level.  An ambulance was called and the responding doctor "found all three suffering from shock and sprains of the lower limbs."  They all refused to go to the hospital and after resting awhile went home.

On November 12, 1900 a headline in The World announced "Samuel Hamerslough & Co., One of the Best-Known Manufacturers of Clothing, Retires from Business."  The building continued to house clothing-related businesses, many of them now in the millinery trade.

Among them were David Spero, a dealer artificial flowers for hats; Jacob Auslander & Sons, "caps and hats;" and Ury & Mendelson Bros., makers of "ready-to-wear, ready-to-trim and fancy hats."

Millinery Trade Review, January 1904 (copyright expired) 

Eva Wolf was 14-years old and an employee of Jacob Auslander & Bros.  The factory was on the sixth floor but on February 9, 1907 she was sent on an errand to the office of Jacob Auslander on the first floor.  Eva had never been to that floor and was unfamiliar with the layout.  As she went to leave, she passed through an open doorway which, unfortunately, turned out to be an elevator shaft.

Eva suffered severe injuries which kept her bedridden for six months and resulted in permanent injury to her legs and hips.  In 1911 her parents not only filed suit against Jacob Auslander, but against the estate of William C. Schermerhorn, which still owned the building.  The complaint alleged they "carelessly and negligently failed to protect or close an unprotected opening or shaft."  Eva was awarded $2,750 in damages--about $76,300 today.

In the building by 1907 was George C. Batcheller & Co., makers of women's foundations like its "Glove-Fitting" corsets, brassieres, and children's "waists" or undershirts.

This George C. Batcheller & Co. ad depicted a variety of items.  New-York Tribune, March 24, 1907 (copyright expired)

Also in the building at the time were millinery firms Warshauser & Rosemond and the Caton Hat Co., and artificial flowers and feathers dealer Berlinger, Brown & Meyer.  

Berlinger, Brown & Meyer had started business in April 1902.  On September 25, 1909 the New-York Tribune remarked "in this remarkably short period of time [it] has built up a business which involves over half a million dollars capital."  The article said that "as a result of Mr. [Philip L.] Berlinger's many trips abroad to France and Germany every year search of new styles and ideas, the trade throughout the country looks upon this house as the highest authority for the proper millinery styles in flowers and feathers to wear as the season approaches."

Millinery firms continued to fill many of the spaces.  Sharing the building with Berlinger, Brown & Meyer in 1913 were Oscar Glanckopf, Inc., George Rawak, and Warshauer & Rosemond, all of which manufactured "silk and velvet hats."  The Glanckopf operation was a substantial one, employing 128 women and 7 men that year.

Garment manufacturers and dry goods firms were still represented, however.  In 1917 L. Finkelstein & Sons, purveyors of "serges and poplins" was here and would remain several years.  And in 1921 J. Tartikoff & Sons and the related firm Tartikoff & Moss moved in--the former taking the top two floors and Tartikoff & Moss leasing the fourth.

A noticeable exception to the garment and hat makers was A. A. Marks, which leased space by 1918.   The firm manufactured artificial limbs.  In November that year it was looking for a "boy for office work" and promised future growth: "later to learn trade."

On March 1, 1946 The New York Times reported that Henry Modell, president of Henry Modell & Co., had purchased the building "for a sporting goods store and warehouse for government surplus goods acquired by the company."  Modell announced his store would open within a few weeks and the firm would occupy the entire building by February 1947.

The last quarter of the century began as a dark time for this section of Broadway and the upper floors of No. 700 Broadway sat vacant for years during the 1980's.  In 1983 Pottery Barn took a gamble by opening a store in the ground floor as a renaissance of the neighborhood was taking shape.  The store had unusually late hours, staying open until 9:00 during the week and 11:00 on Saturdays.  The chain's vice president of merchandising explained "We always try to tailor the hours to the neighborhood, and this is a very late neighborhood."

The store was still in the space on November 1989 when the National Audubon Society announced its intentions to create its national headquarters in the building.  On December 3, 1992 Cara Greenberg published an article in The New York Times entitled "A Tree Grows in Architecture: 'Green' Design'." She remarked on the work of Croxton Callaborative, the architectural firm in charge of the renovations.  The firm's director of interior design said that No. 700 Broadway "is now one of the lowest energy-consuming office buildings in the country," and pointed out several of the features, "like maximized use of daylight and low-toxicity paints."

The National Audubon Society moved out in April 2008.  The building received a restoration headed by architect Philip Toscano following its purchase that year by the legal firm Weitz & Luxenberg.  

On its website Seaboard Weatherproofing & Restoration notes "a simple facade cleaning and repair project turned into an extensive deconstruction and restoration."  Severe structural and surface damage was discovered, caused by years of freezing and thawing as well as the constant vibration from the Broadway subway.  

An Seaboard artisan works on the reparation of a terra cotta element.  photo via seaboardwpr.com

Included in the extensive restoration was the complete dismantling and rebuilding of 40-feet section of a load-bearing wall on the eighth floor.  The final result is that George B. Posts's building looks much as it did in 1891 when it sorely offended one architectural critic.

photographs by the author