From Butter and Eggs to Wine Bar - 24-26 Harrison Street

In the first decade following the end of the Civil War butter and egg merchant Edwin M. Harrison recognized the changes taking place in the area around Greenwich and Harrison Streets.  Where wooden and brick-faced homes from the 1820's and '30's once stood loft buildings were rising.  Harrison scrambled to get in on the action and on one day alone, July 21, 1876, he purchased the properties at Nos. 355 through 359 Greenwich Street, along with Nos. 22 and 24 Harrison Street, paying Julia Gardiner Tyler (the former First Lady and widow of President John Tyler) the equivalent of $1 million.

Harrison would erect several buildings in what was quickly becoming the butter and egg district.  In 1886 architect Edward Simon designed two no-nonsense mirror-image loft buildings at Nos. 24 and 26 Harrison Street.  Four stories high and 32-feet wide, like almost all commercial buildings in the neighborhood, they had a cast iron base with storefronts.  As was the case with the unadorned upper stories, no money was wasted on frills at this level.  There were no elegant Corinthian capitals to the cast iron piers nor other unnecessary decorations.  And atop it all the single pressed metal cornice was no doubt pulled from a catalog.

Among the early tenants were the butter and egg firms of Herrons & Company at No. 24 and Henningson & Company at No. 26.   Handling eggs required a gentle touch and female workers were seemingly preferred in Herrons & Company.  The firm employed about 50 women at the turn of the century.

On the afternoon of February 17, 1899 a fire broke out in Henningson & Company which caused panic next door.  The New York Press reported "Fifty frightened girls, in the employ of Herrons & Company...made a lively scramble for the street yesterday when fire broke out at No. 26 Harrison street...They tumbled upstairs to the roof, and made their way to an extension in Greenwich Street, whence they descended to the street.'  Happily none of the young women was injured.  Not so fortunate was Henningson & Company which suffered $10,000 in damages; more than $310,000 today.

It may have been during those repairs that the buildings were joined internally.  R. H. Peck, "butter, eggs and poultry" merchants, moved in before the end of the year.

New York Produce Review and American Creamery, November 1899 (copyright expired)

The butter and egg district was plagued with a rash of burglaries beginning in December 1904.  Surprisingly, the thieves were not looking for cash--they wanted eggs.  Frustrated representatives from the New York Merchant Exchange petitioned the mayor to do something.  The police commissioner promised increased surveillance.  

The burglaries fell off for a week, but then on January 5 R. H. Peck was victimized.  The Sun reported "Some time between the time when Peck closed up shop at 6 o'clock and 8 o'clock, when the man on post tried the door, eighty cases, each containing thirty dozen eggs, were carted away.  The loot was valued at $720."  The fragile haul was significant, equal to more than $22,000 in today's money.

The butter and egg men were "indignant over the poor police protection," wrote the New York Produce Review, which added "Something is wrong somewhere and must be remedied."  The New-York Tribune chimed in, saying "In each of the robberies, it is said, the police took an active interest for a few days, after which they seemed to tire."

In 1911 the store became home to Kwench-A-Thirst Co., wholesale dealers in powdered "fruit sugars" for soda counter soft drinks.

The Billboard, December 9, 1911 (copyright expired)

R. H. Peck remained in the building until 1915, followed by William Cuttrell, "butter and eggs solicitor."  He would not survive long at the address, filing for bankruptcy in 1917.

Throughout the ensuing decades the building contained to house dairy concerns.  Imperia Foods Company, cheese merchants, was here by the 1970's and remained through the 1980's.

Before long the Tribeca renaissance caught up to the Harrison Street block.  In 1994 Manna Catering was in No. 24 and in 2004 work was done to convert it to a mixed-use building.  The former store space was converted for restaurant use in 2009.  As Terroir Tribeca, a branch of the East Village wine bar with the same name, prepared to opened in April 2010, The New York Times food critic Florence Fabricant commented that it "has sandwiches on the menu and a meatball fixation."

In 2012 the upper floors were converted to apartments, one vast loft dwelling per floor.  Terroir, described in 2019 by Not For Tourists Guide to New York City as a "happening wine bar with funky list and taste eats," continues in the ground floor space.

photographs by the author

Leicht & Havell's 1891 355-359 Greenwich Street

The neighborhood surrounding the corner of Harrison and Greenwich Streets in 1822 was one of refined brick homes.  An advertisement that year offered No. 355 Greenwich Street for sale, describing it as a "three story modern built brick house complete with every convenience for a genteel family."  But by the decade before the Civil War things had changed drastically.  In 1855 Mrs. Caroline Ingersoll was arrested, charged with running "a house of assignation," or brothel in the house.

The reputation of the district was restored as warehouses and stores took over.  By 1890 Harrison and Greenwich Streets were in the path of the expanding produce district.  Edwin M. Harrison was not only a butter and egg merchant, he saw the potential in real estate in the immediate area.  Before the end of the century he would buy up several abutting properties and erect commercial structures.

The most prominent of them would replace the vintage buildings at at Nos. 355 to 359 Greenwich Street and Nos. 28 and 30 Harrison Street.  In 1890 Harrison (whose name, incidentally, had nothing to do with that of the street), commissioned the architectural firm of Leicht & Havell to design the structure.  With elements of the Romanesque Revival, Renaissance Revival and Queen Anne styles, at least one architectural historian lumped it under the tag "Utilitarian."

Above the cast iron storefront level, the brick-faced Greenwich and Harrison Street facades are identical.  Verticality to the nearly square structure was achieved by slightly-projecting three-story piers.  A fringe of brick corbelling hung below the frieze of the the substantial cast iron cornice adorned with neo-Classical swags.  At both elevations, a prominent pediment announced the date 1891.

Harrison erected the building as an investment property, not for the use of his own business.  The "workshops" were leased to firms like Louis F. Bernholtz's fruit and produce operation.   Bernholtz had hardly settled in before he encountered problems with a corrupt police supervisor.

Police Captain John Thomas Stephenson was described by The Evening World as "tall and handsome."  But his good looks did not disguise his greed and strong-arm criminality. Louis Bernholtz erected an awning over his storefront in February 1891, shortly after moving in.  Stephenson dropped by in May, called the awning illegal, and ordered him to remove it.  Or, on the other hand, the captain could look the other way for a $25 payment--about $753 today.  According to Bernholtz later, Stephenson remarked "It's really worth $100, or worth $150, but the price to you will be $25."

Eventually the neighboring businessmen had had enough of the expensive bullying and went to the police commissioners.  Stephenson was placed on trial on August 30, 1894, charged with blackmail and bribery.  The Evening World said that evidence was provided by six "business men of the produce district, and is in effect that he extorted blood money from them."  Among those testifying against Stephenson was Louis F. Bernholtz.

Another tenant at the time was rather unusual for the district.  The Salt Brick Feeder Company manufactured salt licks, the large blocks of salt used by livestock farmers.  In 1894 it advertised for a traveling agent "to handle our goods among owners of horses."

Robert McMullin and Robert L. Gillespie were also unexpected tenants in the produce district.  In 1902 McMullin dealt in cast iron furnaces; and the following year Gillespie was listed in directories as marketing "ovens."

On March 19, 1903 the Harrison estate sold the building to Elbridge T. Gerry for $159,000--a substantial $4.68 million today.  The millionaire lawyer was, perhaps, best known for founding of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children and his impassioned work with the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

A main tenant of Gerry was Reynolds & Company, dealers in butter, cheese and eggs.  The landlord-tenant relationship seems to have gone beyond business.  John Jay Reynolds, founder of the firm, was a member of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.  The well-to-do proprietor was a member of several exclusive clubs, as well, and the Society of Colonial Wars and the Sons of the Revolution.

Reynolds & Company was listed in the building by 1905 and would remain at least through 1921.  Its advertisement in the New York Produce Review and American Creamery in 1909 noted "Our specialty [is] Cheese of all kinds and Unsalted Butter."  The esteem in which its president was held was evidenced in the 1919 edition of Herringshaw's American Blue-Book, which said John J. Reynolds "is prominently identified with the business and public affairs of New York City."

Sharing the building with Reynolds & Company was the Zenith Butter & Egg Co.  The firm made national news in the summer of 1909 after startled workers opened crates of eggs from the Midwest to discover some had hatched.

On September 1 the New York Produce Review and American Creamery published a photograph of one crate, saying "This was one of a shipment of eggs that was full of partially hatched eggs."  The article blamed the "long spells of very hot weather" for a rash of such incidents.  "The chicks shown in the photograph were in the middle of the case when it was opened and were all dead, having doubtless been smothered."

The wooden crate of eggs, some of which had hatched, received by Zenith Butter & Eggs in August 1909. New York Product Review, September 1, 1909 (copyright expired) 

The journal warned all butter and egg merchants that the problem was widespread.  "The picture gives pretty good evidence of the wretched quality of a large part of the eggs lately arriving from western points."

Butter, Cheese & Egg Journal, April 30, 1912 (copyright expired)

Butter, cheese, eggs and poultry dealer R. H. Peck & Co. was leasing space by 1914.  One tenant, possibly Zenith Butter & Egg Company, moved out in 1919, prompting an advertisement offering "To Let by June 1st, two floors at 357-359 Greenwich St., tiled floor, refrigerating facilities and elevator service.  Suitable for butter packing or egg-breaking plant."

In the meantime, John J. Reynolds had been supporting the troops fighting World War I by generously donating to The Sun's "Tobacco Fund."  The newspaper used the funds provided by private citizens and businesses to send pouches of tobacco and cigarettes to the doughboys in Europe.  On February 16, 1919 The Sun called Reynolds "a liberal fund donor," and said "he receives great satisfaction from the cards he gets back from the soldiers."

The address continued to attract butter and eggs businesses.   On May 4, 1921 the New York Produce Review and American Creamery reported that "Wm. G. Hollrock is locating at 359 Greenwich St., on the corner of Harrison St.  He is planning to materially increase his facilities to accommodate a growing commission business in eggs and butter."

The firm had been established a block away at No. 9 Harrison Street in 1894 by William G. Hollrock's father, George.   William had been in the banking business for two years when his father died in 1906.  He abruptly changed careers, taking over the firm and continually increasing its business.

Little changed to the building, either in its appearance or its use, through most of the 20th century.  In 1961 Department of Buildings documents listed the first floor being used for "dairy products sale and warehouse," the second floor for "packaging of eggs and storage," and the upper floors "to remain vacant."

That all changed, however, in 1982 when it was joined internally with No. 361 Greenwich Street and converted to ten sprawling loft apartments.   The following year, in May, the two unsold units were both terraced penthouses, one 1,412 square feet and the other 1,305.   By today's standpoint they were a bargain.  The larger and more expensive was listed at $195,000--just over $490,000 today.

But the Tribeca renaissance had just begun.  Dylan Landis writing in The New York Times on May 15, 1983 commented "There is something desolate in the streets of Tribeca...Five years ago, cars were so rare that sea birds wheeled inland from the river, unafraid.  The automobiles have come and the birds have gone, but a stroller can still pause on a fine spring Sunday and find himself utterly alone."

In 2000 the loading area had been transformed to a trendy restaurant.  photograph by Edmund Vincent Gillon, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Those days, too, would pass.  In 1993 How's Bayou Restaurant operated from the ground floor where crates of hatched chicks were once unloaded.  It was followed by Spartina Restaurant in 1994, The Harrison restaurant in 2002, and Eric Kayser in 2018.

Other than a coat of paint and the ground floor renovations, Leicht & Havell's handsome 1891 design survives remarkably intact.

photographs by the author

The Henry Heide Co. Bldg - 14-16 Harrison Street

Born in Germany in 1846, Henry Heide immigrated to America at the age of 20, just after the end of the Civil War.  After briefly running a grocery store he found his true calling--making candy.  In 1868 he founded the Henry Heide Candy Company.  The firm obtained a patent in 1875 for a "new and improved preserve composition for macaroons."  Heide's almond paste would be touted as "the finest article ever invented for maccaroons [sic] and general baking purposes" by Illustrated New York in 1888.

Henry Heide in his later, prosperous years.  from the collection of the Science History Institute

On April 29, 1881 Heide purchased the two wooden houses at Nos. 14 and 16 Harrison Street from Aymar Embury.  He paid $15,500 for the properties--about $380,000 today.  Six months later, on October 29, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that architect George Da Cunha "is at work on plans for a stone building to be built in Harrison street, between Hudson and Greenwich streets, for Henry Heide.  It will be of brick with stone trimmings, 40x100, and will cost $30,000."  The total cost of the project now amounted to what today would equal about $1.15 million.

Completed the following year, Da Cunha's candy factory was a handsome blend of neo-Grec and Queen Anne styles.  The first floor, above a raised loading dock, was faced in cast iron.  Here architectural details, like the pyramidal caps of the end piers, mimicked those of the upper cornice.  The windows of the second through fourth floors wore neo-Grec lintels supported on stepped brick corbels.   At the fifth floor the arched openings sat below projecting brick eyebrows.  The Queen Anne style stepped in with triangular, dog-tooth spandral panels below a honeycomb frieze formed by recessed bricks.  Above the cast metal cornice was a triangular pediment.

After more than 135 years, Henry Heide's painted announcement "Almond Paste" survives above the loading dock.

The firm's success and growth prompted Heide to lease No. 18 Harrison Street in the spring of 1886.  Architect Thomas R. Jackson was hired to connect the buildings internally.

Two years later Illustrated New York described the combined premises as "divided into manufacturing and sales departments, equipped with every modern appliance for rapid and successful production and perfect in convenience of arrangement for inspection and sale."  By now, said the writer, Henry Heide Candy was "One of the most prominent and best known houses in this line of industry in New York."  

The firm's astounding growth was evidenced in the comment "Mr. Heide has a new building in course of erection, which will connect the rear of this building through to Franklin Street, and which will be six stories high."  When completed, the candy factory was an unlikely pasting together of three separate buildings.  And then in 1891 Heide added yet another property, the adjoining Nos. 181-183 Franklin Street.  The four joined buildings comprised about 50,000 square feet.

Artistic brickwork was used to create the details of the upper floors.  

At the time Heide's bookkeeper was a young German man, Otto Kuhn.  In the days when many transactions were conducted in cash, his was a highly responsible position.  In February 1891 he approached Heide and asked "if he could be spared for a few months to take a flying trip to Europe," according to The Evening World.  (The term "flying trip" referred to its short length and had nothing to do with the yet-to-be-invented airplane.)

The 27-year-old married man may have initially intended to skip town to avoid prosecution.  The Evening World reported that not long after his departure Heide "discovered that money was missing, and an investigation of Kuhn's books, it is alleged, revealed a shortage of about $1,000."  It was a significant amount, equal to about $28,500 today.

If Kuhn had intended to remain in Europe, he changed his mind.  Detectives learned that he was aboard the White Star steamship the Britannic headed to New York and on April 10 were at the dock to meet it.  "Kuhn admitted that he had stolen the $1,000," reported The Evening World, "and squandered it in gambling houses and high living."

More serious troubles came in the form of another German-born employee, candy packer Charles Miller.   After the night watchman, August Loeffler reported that the 25-year-old Miller was a loafer, he was fired "for neglect of duty."  Enraged, Miller was bent on revenge.

On the afternoon of April 18, 1894 he sneaked into the factory and hid in the cellar.  Miller silently waited until the employees had gone home and night fell.  About 1:00 a.m. he attacked.

The following morning, according to The Sun, "the body of the night watchman was found in the basement of the factory.  His skull was crushed in, and several ribs were broken."  The cash drawer had been emptied of $17.

Charles Miller had been in the United States eight years when the murder was committed.  The Sun, August 10, 1894 (copyright expired)

Miller may have gotten away with the murder had he not remained in the vicinity.  The Sun said "he was seen hanging about the neighborhood of the factory.  Some one noticed blood on his clothes, and remembered that he had been discharged on account of the watchman's report three weeks before."  He was arrested on suspicion and confessed at Police Headquarters.

Police released a chilling description of the crime.  "Miller lay in wait for his victim and hit him on the head with a heavy hammer.  Then maddened by the sigh of blood, he had jumped on the body, breaking the ribs."

The story of Charles Miller ended in even more violence and tragedy.  After occupying cell 67 in The Tombs prison four months, he was found by a jail keeper on the morning of August 9 with his throat slashed by a razor.  Miller was still alive and taken unconscious to Bellevue Hospital.  Surgeons valiantly attempted to save his live, but he died there within a few hours.  How he obtained the razor to commit his gory suicide was never discovered.

Almost unbelievably, the Henry Heide Candy Co. had again outgrown its immense factory building.  Now, in 1895, Heide obtained the real estate at the corner of Hudson and Vandam Street and began construction of a cutting-edge structure.  When completed the factory had a daily capacity of 250,000 pounds of confectionery products.  (As an interesting side note, in the first half of the 20th century the Henry Heide company would introduce the gummy candies Jujyfruits and Jujubes, a staple for movie goers for decades.)

Henry Heide retained ownership of the four buildings on Harrison and Franklin Streets, and after the candy company moved out they were separated.  Nos. 14-16 was leased to Edward D. Depew & Co., wholesale grocers.  

Edward Depew advertised on a jutting sign at the front and a painted ad on the western elevation.  Note the now-lost pediment.  New York, the Metropolis, 1902 (copyright expired)

The residency of Edward D. Depew & Co. was relatively short-lived.  On December 30, 1908 the New York Produce Review and American Creamery reported "The Harrison Street Cold Storage Company has secured a twelve years lease on the six story and basement brick buildings at 14 and 16 Harrison street."  The article said the structure "will be entirely refitted for modern cold storage...The new plant will be insulated with cork board from the Armstrong Cork Company of Pittsburg."  The Harrison Street block was developing into what would be called the "butter and egg district" and the journal commented that the building would be "carrying butter and eggs."

Henry Heide hired architect Nelson K. Vanderbeck to upgrade the building for his tenant in the spring of 1911.  Vanderbeck's plans called for "cast-iron columns in 6-sty refrigerating warehouse."  

Five years later, in July 1916, Heide liquidated all of his Franklin Street and Harrison Street properties, selling them to the Red Diamond Realty Corporation.  The new landlords leased the building to the Merchants Refrigerating Co.  

In 1918 to The New York Butter Packing Co. rented space from that firm.  The New York Produce Review and American Creamery explained that The New York Butter Packing Co. would "receive, store and deliver butter and eggs" from the address.  It was a depot of sorts for the firm, its large packing and shipping plant being located at Newcomerstown, Ohio.

Two years later the New York Butter Packing Co. merged with C. F. Bullard's Cudahy Packing Co. to form C. F. Bullard & Co.  The American Produce Review reported that its offices would be at No. 171 Duane Street, and it would use the Harrison Street building as its warehouse.  "The new concern will handle butter, cheese and eggs."

As mid-century approached the J. S. Hoffman Company, cheese merchants, leased the building.  On May 7, 1945 The New York Sun reported that the firm had purchased the building, along with the two structures at Nos. 179 through 183 Franklin Street.  And once again the structures were internally connected.  The deal amounted to $1.75 million in today's dollars.

By the last quarter of the 20th century artists were displacing cheese, egg and butter dealers in the block's vintage loft buildings.  The former Henry Heide Candy factory was converted to "joint living/work quarters for artists."  There was one residence per floor through fourth story, with a duplex above.  It may have been around this time that the pediment was removed.

The duplex became home to a celebrated occupant.  In 1977 playright Edward Albee purchased the space, filling it with modern art masterpieces by the likes of Chagall and Kandinsky, as well as a collection of African art.   

Albee posed in the Harrison Street duplex for The New York Times.  photo by Sara Krulwich, The New York Times, June 16, 1991

The long wooden dining room table, where Albee reportedly wrote portions of his plays, was the scene of script readings, and the vast open space saw rehearsals.  Once a year Albee threw his anticipated Christmas party attended by stage and screen royalty like Marlene Deitrich, Kathleen Turner and Lauren Bacall.  Albee's summer estate was in Montauk, Long Island.

The Harrison Street duplex was for decades the home of one of America's greatest playwrights.  photos via Douglas Elliman Real Estate 

Edward Albee died on September 16, 2016, having won three Pulitzer Prizes for Drama and two Tony Awards for  Best Play.  Among his best-known works were The Zoo Story, The Sandbox, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, and A Delicate Balance.  

Albee's 4,515 square foot duplex was recently placed on the market for $7.5 million.  In the meantime, the former candy factory is little changed--other than the lost pediment--including the permanent awning over the loading dock.

photographs by the author
many thanks to Douglas Elliman agent Tom Titone for showing me around the Albee apartment