The Rosanna Dunn House - 21 Prince Street

 

In 1837, the Board of Aldermen proposed extending and widening Centre Street from Broome to Houston Streets.  Residents and businessmen revolted, firing off several petitions to the Mayor opposing the project.  One of them decried the "destroying, mutilating, and injuring every street, lot and building in its course."  Among the signors of that petition was "Rose Dunn, No. 21 Prince street, owner."

Born in 1795, Rosanna Dunn owned several properties in the neighborhood.  Twice widowed, she lived in the 21-foot wide, Federal style house at 21 Prince Street with her sons, Anthony and James Conron.  (The boys were from her marriage to Lack Conron.)  Three-and-a-half stories tall, the house was faced in Flemish bond brick.  In the rear yard was a second, smaller house, which earned the family extra income.

Rosanna died "of inflammation of the lungs," according to the New York Herald, on January 26, 1851 at the age of 56.  Her funeral was held in the house two days later.

James and Anthony Conron, who operated a liquor store (or saloon) by 1853, remained in the house for years, taking in boarders.  In 1853, for instance, Henry Barrett, a porter; and Patrick Rourke, an engineer in the New-York Tribune building, lived in the main house.  (As an engineer, Rourke would have been responsible for tending the Tribune building's furnaces and such.)  Thomas Stanton lived in the rear house.

Anthony Conron was a member of the volunteer military organization, the Gallagher Guard.  An announcement in the New York Herald in 1859 noted, "A meeting of the above named company will be held at the house of Anthony Conron, No. 21 Prince street, on Sunday, Sept. 11, at 3 o'clock P. M.  Members will please be punctual in attendance."   

Following what the New York Herald described as "a protracted illness," Anthony Conron died on May 27, 1864.  His brother is no longer listed at 21 Prince Street afterward.

The Conron house became a boarding house--one that must have been tightly packed.  In 1867, there were seven boarders.  Interestingly, several were involved in the apparel trades.  Dominick Gaffey and Patrick Glennen were tailors; Eliza Reynolds listed her profession as "cloaks;" and James Pender was a shoemaker.  Two other boarders, William Delaney and Daniel Dunn, were laborers.  Bridget Hackett, the widow of Patrick Hackett, lived here and most likely ran the house.  The rear building was home to Edward Daly.

By the time Patrick Daly purchased the property for $11,700 (about $391,000 in 2024) in December 1886, the ground floor had been converted to a store.  The Record & Guide described the lot as having a "three-story and store building on the front and three-story building on the rear."

Four months later, Daly hired architect William Grant to design alterations to the front building.  His plans called for raising the attic to a full floor, rearranging the interior walls, and rebuilding "defective parts in rear wall."  Grant's renovations gave the ground floor a cast iron storefront with two stores.  Elaborate, triangular, pressed metal pediments  filled with frothy Beaux Arts decorations were placed over the upper floor openings.  The windows were, as well, given decorative terra cotta frames, and delicate Greek key bands in terra cotta joined the lintels of the openings at each level.  An ambitious cast metal Italianate cornice completed the design.  (The new fourth floor can be discerned by the change from Flemish to running bond brickwork.)

image from the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Patrick Daly's tenants continued to be foreign-born workers.  One, living above the stores in 1887, placed an advertisement in The Sun that November that read, "A respectable woman wishes a situation as cook, washer, and ironer; wages not so much an object as a good home."

Edward Kraus and his wife lived here in 1891.  Kraus ran a butcher shop on Mulberry Street between Spring and Prince Streets.  On June 17, he left to collect a bill on the Bowery.  The Sun reported, "That was the last seen of him alive."

Two weeks later, on June 30, a body washed ashore on Coney Island.  When no one came to identify it, the corpse was buried in a numbered grave in Flatbush, Brooklyn two days later.  That night, Brooklynite friends of Mrs. Kraus wrote to her, saying the description of the man matched that of her husband.  She went to Brooklyn and had the body exhumed.  The Sun said, "It was too much decomposed to identify it positively, but from certain marks on the legs, she felt confident the body was her husband's."

Mrs. Kraus told her reporters that Edward had "complained of the heat just before he started out."  She surmised, "it affected his mind and that he may have jumped overboard in a moment of aberration."  The Sun added, "Kraus had no reasons for committing suicide so far as known.  He owned a flourishing business, and was happy in his domestic relations."  Apparently, the possibility of foul play was not considered.

Another tragedy occurred the following year.  On May 16, 1892, the News Press reported, "John Connolley, of 21 Prince street, an alcoholic patient of St. Francis hospital in Fifth street, jumped from the second story window of the hospital and was mortally hurt."

Hugh Madden lived here in 1894.  Described by The Evening World as "a poor cobbler, twenty-eight years old," Madden attempted to do a good deed on September 13 that year.  But it backfired.  

A friend had been incarcerated in the Raymond Street jail in Brooklyn for several days.  Madden attempted to sneak a flask of whiskey to him, but it went horribly wrong.  The Evening World reported, "At the door Madden was met by Keeper John Bell...and searched.  Keeper Bell found the neck of the flask protruding from his visitor's stocking."  Now, Hugh Madden, too, was jailed.  He was taken before Warden Shanley "who, in a deep voice, Madden says, asked him if he knew what a grievous offense he had committed."

Late in January 1896, Edward Maher was released from jail after serving a two-week sentence for domestic abuse on his wife.  Days later, on February 7, The New York Times reported that he was being held without bail "for assaulting his wife and causing internal injuries."

Patrick Daly sold the property in May 1904.  The buyer, Rocco Mansella, resold it to Pasquale and Salvatore Pati in April 1907.  The father-and-son team, who operated as P. Pati & Son, hired architect Otto Reissmann in October to replace the outhouse with a "one-story brick and stone" version.  The elaborate privy cost them the equivalent of $23,400 today.

The outhouse would not last long.  In 1908, the property was sold in foreclosure to Frank Verrastro.  He would run a store from the ground level into the 1920s.  In March 1910, he brought Otto Reissmann back to modernize the building.  Among the renovations was indoor plumbing and toilets.

Luigi Onofrio was pulled into a gruesome murder case in 1910.  After religious services on June 17, Moses Sachs went missing.  The body of the 60-year-old jewelry peddler was found the following morning "crammed into a trunk in the lower hallway of an Italian tenement at 51 Goerck Street," reported The New York Times on June 19.  He had been strangled and robbed of about $3,000 worth of jewelry and $200 in cash.

Before police arrived, someone spirited away a piece of evidence.  Two days later, The New York Sun reported that officials learned that a business card "was shaken out of a sort of table cloth which lay upon the jewelry pedler's [sic] body."  The card read:

Luigi Onforio

21 Prince street.  Candy manufacturer

The New York Sun said, "It was a brand new business card, freshly printed, unsoiled and a very poor specimen of typography."  Police suspected that the card was an attempt to frame Onofrio.  "The blundering printer transposed two letters," explained The Sun.  And, in addition to misspelling Onofrio's surname, while the address was correct (he lived on the top floor of 21 Prince Street), "so far as one knows he manufactured no candy nor indeed anything but wondrous tales."

According to Eric Ferrara in his 2011 Manhattan Mafia Guide, at mid-century the ground floor of 21 Prince Street was home to the Thompson Social Club, a hangout of underworld figures like gangster Peter Di Palermo.

The last quarter of the 20th century saw tremendous change in the neighborhood.  In the 1980s, Prince Street Editions occupied the commercial space, publishing art calendars.  The Laughing Cat antiques shop was here by the mid-1990s, and at the turn of the century the space became home to the Ina consignment shop, which remains there.

photographs by the author

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The Jeremiah and Mary Ann Youmans House - 205 Prince Street

 

John Peter Haff's official profession was "inspector of sole leather."  Additionally, however, he was a recognized authority on agricultural techniques and a speculative real state developer in New York and New Jersey.  In 1834, he completed construction of two Federal-style homes at 203 and 205 Prince Street.  The westernmost house sat on the northeast corner of Prince and MacDougal Streets, affording it additional light and ventilation on the side.  Two-and-a-half stories tall and faced in Flemish bond brick, its parlor floor was originally accessed by a brownstone stoop.  Three dormers punched through the peaked roof. 

It appears Haff leased the houses until his death in 1838.  Around 1850, Jeramiah H. and Mary Ann Youmans purchased 205 Prince Street.  They had at least one son, David S., born in 1837.  In 1851, a daughter, Eliza, was born.  Youmans owned a lumber business (called a "woodyard" in the 1853 city directory) on Washington Street near the Hudson riverfront.

On October 20, the Youmans advertised in the Morning Courier, "Board--One or two large parlors and one bedroom, to let furnished, with board, to a gentleman and wife, or two single gentlemen, in a small private family.  Apply at 205 Prince street, corner of McDougal st."  (MacDougal street was variously spelled MacDougal, Macdougal and McDougal for years.  The confusion was understandable.  It was named after Alexander McDougall, whose father spelled his surname MacDougal.)

In 1853, the couple's boarders were Jessie W. Wadleigh and Dr. Baron Spolasco.  They would have long-term boarders in Charles E. L. Brinckerhoff and his family starting in 1857.  Brinckerhoff and his wife Clara had a 10-year-old son, Charles Rolph.

Born in 1822, Charles E. L. Brinckerhoff dealt in lamps and gas lighting fixtures.  He had two stores downtown, one on John Street and the other on William Street.  His wife, however, was far more celebrated than he.

Born in London in 1828 as Clara Maria Rolph, she was brought to America by her parents in 1833.  Her father, John A. Rolph, was an artist and her mother was a Italian-trained soprano.  Clara was trained in singing by her mother.  Following her mother's death, Clara was trained by leading coaches, including George Loder, conductor of the Philharmonic Society and his wife.

Clara made her concert debut at the age of 16 at Apollo Hall on Broadway.  The principal soprano of Grace Church, she sang the full Christmas service on December 25, 1848, before marrying Charles later that day.  

The famed soprano's image appeared on this sheet music in 1873.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

Clara contributed greatly to the family's income.  The Youmans allowed her to conduct her voice lessons in the house.  An advertisement in The New York Times in September 1857 read,

Mrs. Clara M. Brinkerhoff informs her pupils and the public, that her season for tuition in Vocal Music will commence on Monday, Sept. 28.  Terms: $40 for a term of twenty-four lessons; single lessons, $2.  Address No. 205 Prince-st., corner of McDougal.  At home on Wednesdays.

The tuition for a 24-lesson term would equal about $1,440 in 2024.

Additionally, Clara was a composer, romance novelist (under the pseudonym Henri Gordon) and lecturer.  Among her best known songs was One Flag or No Flag, published during the Civil War.

The parlor of 205 Prince Street was the scene of four-year-old Eliza Youmans's funeral on May 15, 1855.  The little girl had died the previous day.

The Brinkerhoffs remained in the Youmans house at least through 1862.  On October 25, 1861, Clara advertised,

Madame Clara M. Brinkerhoff, having returned from Europe, will be ready for concert engagements and pupils in singing from the 1st of November.  Address 205 Prince-st., corner of Macdougal.

Jeremiah H. Youmans died at the age of 61, "after a short illness, in full hopes of a blessed immortality," as worded by the New-York Tribune, on May 13, 1862.  His funeral was held in the house on May 16.  Mary Ann was still in mourning when David S. Youmans died on February 9, 1863 at the age of 26.  His funeral, too, was held in the parlor.

Mary Ann operated her home as a boardinghouse for the next six years.  Having buried her entire family, she died here at the age of 57 on August 16, 1869.

Six months later, on February 15, 1870, the "two-story brick house" and lot was sold at auction for $20,250 to Samuel Parsons.  (The amount would translate to about $488,000 today.)  One month to the day later, an auction of the Youman family's furnishings was held.  Among the elegant pieces sold was a "rosewood piano, by Steinway & Sons."

Samuel Parsons continued operating 205 Prince Street as a boarding house.  Among his boarders in 1871 was Ronald MacDonald, an editor.

Parsons made significant changes to the house in 1875.  He removed the stoop, filled in the basement level, and installed a neo-Grec cast iron storefront on what was now the first floor.  It was possibly at this time that the attic was raised to a full floor, taking the shape of a stylish mansard.  Parsons's first commercial tenant was O'Leary Bros., a furniture store.

Around 1886, August Berrmann purchased the property.  The personality of the commercial space underwent a drastic change that year when brewers Bernheimer & Swartz signed the lease.  It was common for breweries to operate their own saloons, thereby assuring that only their own products would be sold.  

At the turn of the century, the saloon was run by Peter Mutthiessen.  He was fined the staggering amount of $1,630 on February 27, 1903 by State Excise Commissioner Cullinan.  The Albany newspaper The Argus explained, "Matthiessen trafficked in liquor at 205 Prince street, New York city, and violated the liquor tax law by having his barroom open [on Sunday]."  

The storefront was boarded up and obviously under renovation when this photo was taken in 1941.  On the side of the building an R & H Beer (Rubsam & Horrmann brewery) sign can be seen.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The estate of August Herrmann sold the property in March 1906 to Albert J. F. Sibberns and his wife, Clara L.  Calling his saloon a "café," it became what today would be called a sports bar and a training venue for boxers and wrestlers.  

In 1909, the Bridgeport, Connecticut newspaper The Farmer reported that Young Evans was in town.  "He has put away some clever boxers, including Tommy Devlin of Philadelphia, Joe Percenti of Chicago, Bob Smillie of Salem, and Johnnie Dohan of Brooklyn," said the article.  "He is willing to take on any promising youngster in this State at 136 pounds.  Communicate with his manager, Al Sibberns, 205 Prince street, New York."

The bar was also the headquarters of the Bugs Association baseball team.  Al Sibberns played centerfield for the group.

Sibberns was not the only trainer who worked from the saloon.  In 1915, according to the Brooklyn Standard Union, boxer Johnny Hayes's manager was Chick Kenney, and Dummy Dragon's was Louis Masso.

Albert J. F. Sibberns declared bankruptcy in November 1916.  The Sun reported that he had liabilities of $7,610 and assets of $300.

A saloon would remain here until Prohibition.  The space continued to house a restaurant or tavern throughout most of the 20th century.  

The building was returned to a single family home in the 1970s, its owners replacing the storefront infill with handsome arched windows reminiscent of a Dickensian London bookshop.  The renovation earned the owners a 1979 Certificate of Appreciation by the Association of Village Homeowners for "enhancing the surroundings with renewal of facades in a way appropriate to the historic character of the district."

photographs by the author

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A Lost Relic - 47 Prince St

Despite advertisements slathered across its face, the building's former refinement was still evident in the 1920's.  Note the tenant in in the second floor window chatting with a woman on the street.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

By the time Mr. Benson moved his family to No. 47 Prince Street, on the northwest corner of Mulberry Street, the house had several tenants.  Built in the late 1820's or early '30's, the Federal-style building may have always had a shop in the ground floor.  While technically two-and-a-half stories tall, the exceptional height of the attic within the gambrel roof made that level nearly a full floor.  Tall dormers on the Prince Street elevation and an arched opening flanked by quarter-round openings on the Mulberry filled the attic floor with daylight.

Mr. Benson had been struggling with a difficult problem in the fall of 1843--three of his children had intestinal worms.  He found the cure, according to an advertisement in The New York Herald on December 19, at Apothecaries' Hall, No. 60 Prince Street just one block away.  The ad claimed "No Room For Doubt--Mr. Benson, 47 Prince street, cured three children with one 18 [cent] box of Kent's Worm Lozenges, after many other medicines had been tried without effect."

The house had originally been built for a merchant class family--possibly the owner of the ground floor shop.  It was 25-feet wide on Prince Street and an ample 80 feet deep on Mulberry.

But by now the neighborhood had noticeably changed.  The tenants were working class, as evidenced by an ad placed by two of them in November 1845. "Wanted--Situations by two Young Women--one as good plain cook, washer and ironer; the other as chambermaid, or nurse and seamstress...Apply at 47 Prince st, first floor, back room."

Over the next decades tenants--many of them women--would continue to struggle to find employment.  In December 1840 one sought a job as "Chambermaid and Seamstress, by a Protestant young Woman, or Chambermaid and to do the fine Washing and Ironing."  Another in March 1852 wrote "A Very Respectable Young Woman Wishes a situation to do chamberwork, and assist in the washing and ironing; she is a good plain sewer, and wishes to make herself useful; will take turns in the kitchen, if required."  And another, in the fall of 1862 marketed herself as "a first rate laundress" and sought "a situation in a hotel or boarding house."

Many of those out-of-work women were struggling Irish immigrants, typical of the changing face of the Prince Street neighborhood.  They eked out their hardscrabble existence in an increasingly rough environment.  That was evidenced on July 16, 1874 when The New York Times reported "Ann McGrath, aged forty-one, of No. 47 Prince street, quarreled yesterday evening with Peter Hughes...when Hughes struck her on the head with a glass causing three severe scalp wounds."  Ann was taken to Bellevue Hospital and her assailant was jailed.

Wealthy New Yorkers escaped the suffocating summer heat at their country homes, or at resorts like Newport.  Impoverished immigrants, on the other hand, suffered the heat at their work and in their rooms.  Each day during the hottest weather newspapers published lists of those who were "prostrated" or had succumbed.  On July 13, 1882 The New York Times added to its list: "William McNeil, a Scotchman, 35 years old, died suddenly at his residence, No. 47 Prince-street, from sun-stroke."

The former store space had been home to Michael Barry's saloon for several years.  Four months before McNeil's passing, Barry had relinquished the lease of the bar to one of McNeil's countrymen, George D. Noremac.

George's real surname was Cameron and he was a celebrity in the rabidly popular walking races; known in Scotland as "King of the Peds."  Early on, in order to stand out among other contestants, he changed his name by simply spelling it backwards.

On March 25, 1882 the New York Clipper noted that Noremac, "the noted young Scotch long-distance pedestrian" had taken the saloon "formerly kept by Michael Barry."  The newspaper felt his name would be beneficial to his new endeavor, saying "his exploits on the pedestrian path should operated to his advantage in business."

Once settled into the new business, Noremac brought his wife, the former Elizabeth Edwards, and their son and daughter from Scotland (they retained the name Cameron).  The family lived above the saloon, renting rooms to immigrant laborer John Ryan, a house painter, and to Noremac's trainer (who doubled as a bartender) George Beattie.

Noremac sponsored his own walking race later that year.  An announcement in the New York Clipper on December 9 read:

George D. Noremac,

47 Prince Street,

will give $125 in prizes for a GRAND 12-HOUR HANDICAP-RACE, limit 8 miles, go-as-you-please, at Wood's Athletic Grounds, Williamsburg, L.I., on Christmas day.  Entrance $3, to close Dec. 18, at the above address.

George poses in his walking gear.  original source unknown

Noremac took in a house guest in 1883, William Cummings another well-known walking racer.  The New York Clipper reported "This famous Scotch pedestrian...is due at this port to-day, June 6, on board the steamer Wyoming."  He had come to New York to participate in several races.  The newspaper noted "On landing in New York Cummings will take up his quarters with George D. Noremac of six-days, go-as-you-please notoriety, at his saloon, 47 Prince street, and there will have his abode a fortnight to get himself thoroughly in condition to fulfill his engagements."

("Six-day, go-as-you-please" races lasted 144 hours and participants could enter and exit the track at will, picking up where they left off after stopping to eat, sleep or rest.  Judges counted their laps and calculated the miles covered at the end of six days.)

Ten days later the same newspaper updated its readers on Cummings's training for his upcoming match against pedestrian William Steele of Pennsylvania.  Calling Cummings the "celebrated Scotch flyer," the "champion of England," and at "the pinnacle of fame," the article noted that he "has been accompanied in his practice-runs by his backer, Noremac, whose public-house at 47 Prince street he makes his headquarters."

On August 18, 1883 Noremac opened a second saloon, at No. 466 Eighth Avenue.  The family moved into the second floor of that location.  It would become a scene of horror.

George Beattie and Elizabeth did not get along well.  He was often drunk and and used abusive language to the other saloon workers.  And she told her husband Beattie was "a nuisance."

Less than a week after moving in, on Thursday August 23, Beattie entered the apartment knowing Noremac was in the saloon awaiting his breakfast.  The children heard a pistol shot, then another.  Elizabeth Cameron lay on the kitchen floor dead, next to the body of her murderer.

Exactly a year later, in August 1884, Noremac gave up the Prince Street saloon.  It was leased to the Williamsburgh Brewing Co.  Breweries commonly operated saloons in the 19th century; an arrangement which made it possible for them to sell only their own ale and beer.

Murto Moriarty and his wife lived in a single room in the house in 1890.  Early in the morning of July 28 he was awakened by noises in the darkness.  The Evening World reported "He jumped out of bed and collared Edward Reardon, seventeen years old...his brother-in-law, and Daniel Flannery, twenty-one years old."  They had stolen $2 from Moriarty's clothes before being caught.  Moriarty did not let family ties (nor his wife) influence his actions.  He had the teen and his accomplice hauled off to the Tombs Police Court.

James Curtin seems to have been working in the saloon in August 1894 when he sought a new position.  His ad read "Steady, sober waiter wants a job in a downtown lunch-room or restaurant."  Most likely the reason for his career move was his advance notice that the saloon was closing down.

Within months the ground floor space was home to Samuel Cohen's cigar shop.  He employed five men, two teen-aged boys, and two females (one in her teens) to make his cigars.  Cohen would remain until 1901 when Francesco Marchioni leased the space, converting it to a restaurant.  Marchioni's operation lasted seven years.  In 1904 he was paying $500 annual rent on the space, or nearly $1,200 per month today.

In March 1908 Gaetano Mangano took over the lease of the store, paying exactly twice the rent.  It was most likely he who converted the restaurant to a corner store where neighbors could purchase staples like cigarettes and flour.

Murad Cigarettes paid for visible signage above the Prince Street shop windows by the 1920's.  Life magazine, January 1905 (copyright expired)

In 1924 the end of the line for the old structure was on the horizon.  The corner store was boarded up and photographs show the upper floors apparently vacant.

The gritty personality of the Soho neighborhood is evidenced in this 1924 photo.  The corner store is boarded up.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

Ten years later Berenice Abbott photographed the still-vacant building.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The venerable building lasted just over a century.  Its replacement building was demolished prior to the mid-1960s, and the subsequent structure by Kevin Byrne Architects, P.C., was completed in 2017.

The Lost 1826 2nd Congregational Church - Prince and Mercer Streets

Architect and artist Alexander Jackson Davis created this rendering around 1830.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Unitarianism, which arrived in the United States around 1800, was not well received by mainstream Christians.  The Unitarians rejected the concept of the Holy Trinity, believing that God was a single entity.  Jesus, therefore, while a savior, was not a deity.  The tenet caused most Christians to view the group with suspicion, if not outright hostility.  In fact until 1819 Unitarianism was practiced mostly in secrecy.

In 1820 construction of the First Congregational Church, on Chambers Street, was begun.  Despite the denomination's challenges, only five years later a Second Congregational Church was planned about a mile to the north, at the corner of Prince and Mercer Streets.  Decades later, in 1892, King's Handbook of New York City explained "The parish was formed in 1825 by a few members of the older Chambers-Street society."

The new congregation chose well-known architect Josiah R. Brady to design its building.  Brady worked almost exclusively in ancient classic styles; even in his domestic commissions.  His magnificent mansion for the Anderson family in Throgg's Neck, New York, for instance, took the form of a noble Greek temple.  The same would be true for the Second Congregational Church.

The cornerstone was laid on November 24, 1825 by William Ware, the minister of the First Congregational Church.  A plaque was laid inside the stone which read:

The Second Congregational Unitarian Church

in the City of New-York;

Erected by Public Subscription.

This Stone laid with Religious Ceremonies,

November 24, 1825.

To us there is one God, the Father, and one Lord Jesus Christ.

I.Cor.8.6.

The building, 63 feet wide and 80 feet long, was completed almost exactly one year later.  Brady's Greek Revival design took inspiration, in part, the Choragic monment of Thrasyllus at Athens.  Four massive Doric columns fronted the recessed entrance and supported the Grecian pediment.  The Christian Examiner explained that the "entablature is without blocks or triglyphs" in keeping with the Chroagic monument.  "The walls and columns are of brick covered with cement in imitation of marble."  The broad entrance steps were of granite.

The Choragic monment of Thrasyllus partly sparked Brady's creative muse.  from the collection of the Smithsonian Institution

The Christian Examiner went on to describe the interiors, which it deemed "beautifully arranged."  The main floor held 132 pews, and the gallery-organ loft had another 24.  "The pulpit is of a pedestal form, with a pedestal and balustrade on each side.  The whole is correct in proportion, chaste and neat in design and execution."

from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The church was dedicated on Thursday, December 7, 1826.  The Christian Examiner reported that "At an early hour the house was thronged."  Rev. Ware returned to give the consecrating prayer; but the sermon was delivered by the Rev. William Ellery Channing, a founder of American Unitarianism.  His sermon, which extended for an hour and a quarter, wore even wore out.  The Christian Examiner noted, "it was regretted that the failure of the preacher's strength compelled him to omit some interesting topics of illustration."

Entitled "Unitarian Christianity Most Favourable to Piety," the sermon was later published as a 40-page booklet.  The Christian Examiner remarked "It has been pronounced the noblest production of the very pure and original mind which composed it, and was delivered with an effect which will never be forgotten by those who heard it."

Its ample property allowed the Second Congregational Church to have a burial ground.  Following the construction of the Third Universalist Church, on crowded Grand Street, the two congregations shared the graveyard.

On Sunday, April 5, 1829 Stephen W. Bailey, a member of the Live Oak Fire Engine Company No. 44 was overcome while fighting a blaze.  The 24-year old "was seized with an apoplectic fit, doubtless induced by over exertion, while in the faithful discharge of his duty as a fireman," as reported by The Gospel Herald and Universalist Review on April 11.  A member of the Third Congregational Church, the young firefighter died that night.  After his impressive funeral in the Third Universalist Church two days later, "he was conveyed to [the] Prince street Church, and interred in one of the vaults," reported the periodical.

from the collection of the New York Public Library

The congregation faced a crisis beginning in 1825.  Rev. Abner Kneeland was invited in a "summer pulpit exchange," but the visit turned into a permanent position.  The congregation was unaware of Kneeland's rocky past within the Universalist movement.  His ever-changing theology and radical opinions had shaken even the New England Universalist General Convention.   A line from one of his many hymns read, for instance,

As ancient bigots disagree,

the Stoic and the Pharisee,

so is the modern Christian world

in superstitious error hurl'd

According to the Dictionary of Unitarian & Universalist Biography, "Kneeland did not tell the congregation the extent of the transformation in his thinking until early 1827, when full disclosure of his theological opinions divided the church in two."  

Jonathan Greenleaf, in his 1846 A History of the Churches, of All Denominations, in the City of New York, was brutally direct.  He wrote that the Rev. Nehemian Dodge "was succeeded by the celebrated Abner Kneeland, whose impious ravings soon scattered the congregation."

Kneeland left in 1827, taking his supporters from the congregation to form the Second Universalist Society.   Later Illinois Universalist minister Clinton Lee Scott called Kneeland "the most controversial character ever ordained to the Universalist ministry," and the Dictionary of Unitarian & Universalist Biography said "Ultimately he was led beyond Christianity."  Kneeland eventually was convicted of blasphemy in Massachusetts.

The ministers of the Second Congregational Church were paid adequately, but their salaries were by no means as lavish as those of the rectors of Manhattan's most fashionable churches.  Following Rev. Orville Dewey's sermon on "The Moral Importance of Cities and the Moral Means for their Reformation" on June 5, 1836, the congregation was invited to stay over to discuss the salary of the "minister at large."  The $2,850 agreed upon would equal about $77,500 per year today.

Tragedy struck the following year when fire tore through the structure, destroying it.  Rather than built on the old site, the congregation acquired a plot at Nos. 728-730 Broadway, near Waverly Place.  When that building was dedicated in 1839, the congregation changed its name to the Church of the Messiah.

The corner of Prince and Mercer Streets today.

Stained Glass and Top Hats - 435-439 West Broadway

Added in 1892, the chic mansard roof gave the factory building a civic appearance, much like a school building.

Henry Martyn Congdon is remembered most for specializing in ecclesiastic architecture.  Before his death in 1922 he designed numerous Episcopal churches across the country.  But the project he took on for developers Edward & A. Abbott in 1879 was purely utilitarian.

In November 1878 the brothers had purchased the five old buildings at the northeast corner of South Fifth Avenue and Prince Street. The structures were two- and three-story frame houses with stores on the ground floor, except for the corner building which was brick.  The Abbotts spent $46,400 for the combined properties--in the neighborhood of $1.15 million today.

Construction got underway on May 15, 1879 and continued at lightning speed.  The sprawling factory building was completed in just over three months, on August 27.  Congdon's red-brick design was a no-nonsense take on Romanesque Revival.  There were none of the medieval inspired carvings or heavy granite blocks found in some loft buildings in the style; instead the restrained design relied on the rhythm of arches and incised lines (hints of the emerging Queen Anne trend) on the brick piers.

In 1892, the year before South Fifth Avenue was renamed West Broadway, a fifth floor was added in the form of a stylish mansard roof.

There were two main tenants in the sprawling structure.  One was John Dougherty, who ran his stained and leaded glass factory here by 1895.  By the last decade of the 19th century stained glass was wildly popular not merely for churches but for residential and civic buildings.  Saloons, restaurants and oyster bars had stained glass panels and heavy leaded glass doors; colored light filtered into residences through stained glass transoms, and grand courthouses and municipal buildings boasted stained glass domes.

Advertisement from the Catalogue of the Annual Exhibition of the Architectural League of New York, 1896 (copyright expired)

The other tenant was the hat factory and salesrooms of M. S. Cornell & Co.   The firm produced "many thousands" of men's hats for Young Bros., which provided the designs.  It specialized in "stiff and silk hats" worn by America's upper crust.   On December 15, 1898 M. S. Cornell & Co. placed an advertisement in The Sun:  "Stiff Hat Trimmers wanted; full work."

The properly-dressed gentleman had a full wardrobe of headwear, each hat dictated by the season and the event.  The hats produced for Young Bros. by M. S. Cornell & Co. included top hats, coach hats--a style of top hat with a curved brim--derbies, and other stiff hats.  ("Stiff hats" distinguished the Cornell-made hats from summer hats like boaters made of straw made by a different manufacturer.)

In August 1902 The American Hatter reported on Young Bros. new "low, square crown derby with wide brim and round curl, which will be known as their 'Special Horse Show Hat.'"  The journal added "the correction of the style is guaranteed, while the fact of its being a product of the factory of M. S. Cornell & Co. vouches for its quality."  A separate article mentioned "The manufacturers, M. S. Cornell & Co., are using the same care in turning out perfect goods that has helped to make Youngs hats popular."

An advertisement in 1902 pictured three different Coach Hats and a derby.  The American Hatter, August 1902 (copyright expired)

In 1906 esteemed architect George B. Post was working on the designs for the new campus of the College of the City of New York in northern Manhattan.   The cathedral-like Gothic Revival main building, today known as Shepard Hall, included 65-foot stained glass windows.

The popularity of stained glass was apparent in the number of makers who bid on the job.  James Dougherty was one of 11 leaded glass manufacturers to submit bids.   Dougherty's initial $6,300 estimate would be equivalent to $173,000 today.

By now apparel firms had taken space in the building.  In 1900 Gustave Erzig's "cloaks and suits" factory was here, as was S. Nassberg's "art embroidery" shop.   James Dougherty was in the building as late as 1911; but by the end of World War I it was home to apparel manufacturers, like the Sittenfield Leather Company, and small business like the Promotion Sales Company.

The onset of Prohibition on January 17, 1920 was devastating for hundreds of businesses--notably restaurants, hotels, distilleries and breweries--and untold thousands of Americas suddenly were out of work.  But others saw it as an opportunity.

Herba Products Company manufactured flavoring extracts in the West Broadway building and Gramatan Company, made hair tonic in its factory here.  Both products used alcohol as a component.  And the executives of both firms quickly realized there was a greater profit in the ingredient than in the end product.

On July 2, 1920 The Sun reported "Indictments, arrests and sentences all having to do with dealings in liquor came thick and fast yesterday."  The article went on to say "Prison sentences as well as fines were prescribed by Judge Grubb for three officials of the Gramatan Company and the Herba Products Company.  They were convicted last week of selling 25,000 gallons of 190 proof alcohol."

The president of Herba, Henry F. Maresca, received a two-year sentence.  Giavanni Rubino, president of the Gramatan Company, was given a 20-month jail sentence, and his treasurer, Charles d'Angelis, got 15 months.  All three were fined $17,000--more than $200,000 today.

Before mid-century the building continued to house several apparel-related firms like Feingold & Liss, "millinery supplies," here in the early 1920s and the Lincoln Footwear Company.   The latter firm suffered a terrifying robbery in the summer of 1943.

Lillian Greenstein, the company's bookkeeper, was headed back to work from lunch on July 23.  She ran into her boss, Sidney Wasserman in the lobby.  He was returning from the bank with the company's $804 payroll.  When the pair entered the elevator, two men followed them.

Before they reached their fourth-floor offices, the thugs displayed guns and robbed Wasserman of the payroll and took $60 from Greenstein.  It was a significant personal loss for the young woman, more than $800 in today's dollars.

There appear to have been no garment firms in the building by the early 1950s.  Joe End & Co., Inc. was here by 1947 making novelties.  Its plush animals were the type used as prizes in carnivals.  Its 1947 "delicately proportioned" deer were made of "fine delustered plush with sprayed patches and dots." and were available for $45 a dozen.

In 1950 the firm advertised a "Hot Item Sensationally Priced!"  The Rock-A-Bye-Baby was a "giant 21" life size" doll that cried, sucked its thumb, and moved its arms and legs, according to the ad.  It was "costumed in baby's dress with diapers and under-shirt.  Like a new-born infant, she's wrapped in a baby blanket tied with a big bow!"

In 1969 the change in the Soho neighborhood from industry to art was evidenced when the West Broadway building was renovated to accommodate stores on the first floor, a fine art studio on the second, and offices above.  The Hollander-Soho Gallery was operated by photographer Am Hollander.

Subsequent galleries and stores here included the Circle Gallery, here in 1981.  In the mid-1980s the boutique Connections-Nichole Farhi sold "clothes you can't wait to get into."

A 2010 renovation resulted in "living-working quarters for artists" on the upper floors.  Henry Congdon's handsome 1879 factory building is a striking reminder of the industrial period along this stretch of West Broadway; when horse-drawn drays rumbled down the dusty streets.

photographs by the author

The John C. Hashegan House - 186 Prince Street

In 1826 the newly-formed real estate development firm of Mills & Ryerson purchased the land at the corner of Prince and Sullivan Streets.  They erected four houses--two facing Prince and two on Sullivan Street--but oddly enough left the corner plot empty.

It was not until around 1830 that Henry Hopper began construction of a Federal-style house on the lot.  Two-and-a-half stories tall, it was faced in red Flemish bond brick and trimmed in brownstone.  The attic floor would have had tall dormers and a short stone stoop would have risen to the entrance.

If Henry Hopper, who made his living as a cartman, ever lived in the house it is unclear how long.  But by the first years of the 1840s it was home to the Hallenbeck family.

Hallenbeck was involved in a disturbing incident on June 26, 1841.  The New-York Tribune reported three days later "As Mr. Hallenbeck, who resides at 129 Sullivan street, was returning to the city on Saturday evening last, on the Bloomingdale road [known as Broadway today], about 5 miles from the city, he accidentally run over a child, which was lying in the road."

Hallenbeck stopped and "paid every attention to the little sufferer."   The little girl, Mary McGillen, belong to a local Irish immigrant family.  Rather surprisingly to modern readers, although Hallenbck supposed that the child "could not survive long," he left after deciding she was being well taken care of.

On Monday morning he went to the Coroner's office and told his story.  He was surprised to hear that the accident had not been reported to the Coroner, since he was certain the girl had to be dead by now.  An investigation showed that Alderman Bradhurst had already held an inquest, without the Coroner's presence.  The conclusion was that "The jury found that she came to her death by being run over by a carriage, unknown to this jury."

The reporter for the New-York Tribune was irate--apparently to the point of destroying his grammar skills.  "Had Ald. Bradhurst taken the trouble to make the necessary inquires who the gentleman was that run over the child, or had he even sent for the Coroner himself, the public would have had before them the whole of the particular in relation to this affair, as the Coroner or his deputy was at his office, and could have been found at any moment."

Before 1850 John Christopher Hashagen and his family moved into the house.  He transformed the parlor floor for his grocery store and extended the building to the rear.

Hashagen was born in Hanover, Germany on August 31, 1814 and was married to the former Friederike Charlotte Meredith.  The couple had five children, including Caroline who was born in the house in 1850.  The family lived above the store.

The extension was apparently used for the meetings of Hashagen's club.  On July 15, 1851 The New York Herald announced "The Old Tops of the Eighth ward will go on their next annual chowder excursion, to Sheep's Head Bay, on next Wednesday, the 16th of July.  They will start at 4  o'clock, A. M., from their headquarters, John C. Hashagen's, corner of Prince and Sullivan streets, with Kipp & Brown's splendid six horse stage."

The use of the stage made the chowder excursion doubly pleasurable for the men.  Coaching in the mid-19th century was a fashionable pastime for upscale groups.  The Herald added that "N. B. Reuben drives."

It would appear that a relative or friend of the Hashagen family from their homeland was staying here in the spring of 1854.  An advertisement in The New York Herald on March 10 read "A respectable young girl, lately arrived from Germany, wishes to obtain a situation in a genteel American or German family.  She would like to go as chambermaid of seamstress.  Has a good knowledge of the French language.  Satisfactory references as to respectability."

A similar advertisement appeared 11 years later.  On November 14, 1865 the same newspaper ran the ad "Wanted--By a respectable German girl, a situation as waitress or chambermaid in a private family."  The girl used the address of the side entrance leading upstairs, No. 186 Prince Street.


The following year Hashagen raised the attic level to a full third floor; and in 1869 added a fourth floor and an up-to-date Italianate cornice.  Interestingly, in both renovations the Federal-style paneled lentils were reproduced, providing an architectural cohesiveness.

In 1870 Caroline, who was known as Carrie, married John A. Meredith.   Carried was 19 years old and her groom was 28.  Tragedy visited the young couple on July, 18, 1873 when their one-year old son, Walter Hashagen Meredith, died "of cholera infantum."  The now-rare disease attacked young children, most often in congested neighborhoods and during periods of high heat and humidity.

The heart-breaking funeral of the toddler was held in the Hashagen's Prince Street house the following Sunday afternoon.

John Hashagen's business apparently flourished.  In 1876 he rented space in H. F. Kahrens's stable on No. 209 Sullivan Street for his horses.  The $1,019 lease would equate to more than $23,000 today.  The need for a team of horses, most likely for delivery purpose, might reflected Hashagen's change in businesses.   By 1882 he was listed as "furniture" rather than the grocery business.

On August 3, 1880 a society journalist for The New York Times gushed on about a new and fashionable resort, Richfield Springs, New York.  The writer insisted that there "shoddyism" was unknown.  "The 20 or more hotels and boarding-houses have accommodations for between 2,000 and 3,000 strangers, and they are all full to overflowing, mainly with New-Yorkers," she said.  "A striking feature of the attendance is the high social standing of the visitors."

John and Friederike Hashagen had come far from the day they stepped off the steamer from Germany.  Among the guests at the Park Place Hotel, where "the ladies dress richly but sensibly" were the Hashagens.

The couple's elevated status no doubt contributed to their leaving the Prince Street building they had called home for three decades.  In 1883 J. Kroeger paid $75 for his excise license, allowing him to transform John Hashagen's former grocery store into a saloon.

The building was owned by J. Rennan in 1886, when he constructed a "two-story brick storage" building a block away at the corner of Prince Street and South Fifth Avenue (later renamed West Broadway).

As the neighborhood filled with immigrants by the turn of the century, No. 186 Prince Street became a rooming house.  The tenant list was made up of mostly Italian surnames, like that of Paola Alfieri who died in her room on February 19, 1903 at the age of 64.

Unfortunately, while the majority of the new Italian-Americans were hard-working, blue collar citizens; their reputations were stained by the violence and criminal activities of others.  In the first years of the 20th century violent anarchist groups like La Mano Nera (or the Black Hand) and syndicates like the Mafia and Comorra wielded power and terror throughout most of the century.

On June 24, 1927 at around 4:00 in the afternoon, a five-alarm fire raged in the Bishop Warehouse Company Building on Greenwich Street.  The New York Times reported that it "tied up traffic and darkened the financial district with heavy clouds of black smoke, causing a million dollar loss."

Investigators soon determined that it was deliberately set "to conceal the theft of a huge quantities of drugs and liquors."  Federal agents tracked the gangsters to No. 186 Prince Street.  Twenty-eight year old Alexander Psaki and 30-year old John Courmalis were arrested and held on $50,000 bail each.

Assistant U. S. District Attorney Carl E. Newton maintained "the men had been members of a gang which had taken goods from the warehouse which would probably amount to a million dollars."  This, he said, was just the last in a long string of "systematic thefts."

The one constant in New York City neighborhoods is change.  In the second half of the century the Little Italy neighborhood took on the influence of the now-trendy Soho district.

Writing in The New York Times on February 11, 1965 Philip H. Dougherty reported on the city's discotheques, of which there were currently 15.  "A proper discotheque, as it was introduced in France," he explained, is a dark, intimate boite de nuit where the music is supplied by hi-fi stereophonic sound systems tended by a disk jockey.

And residents of No. 186 Prince Street had come up with a clever way to capitalize on the craze.  Dougherty described Killer Joe Piro as "by appointment, dancing master to the jet set."  He partnered with disk jockey, Slim Hyatt, "a tall, 35-year-old, thin-faced and soft-spoken Panamanian" and a group called the Porpoise--all living in the Prince Street building--to turn any "home club or hotel into a discotheque."

Dougherty referred to their partnership as "discotheque-to-take-out."  For $50 an hour they would supply the turntables, speakers, and records.  By the time of the article the Williams Club had used the group's services three times.  Its manager said "The people just didn't want to go home."

The Soho-like atmosphere seemed assured when the Prince Street Gallery opened in October 1974.  But it eventually moved on.  The ground floor space where John Hashagen sold groceries, J. Kroeger ran his saloon, and contemporary art was sold is now a corner newsstand where neighbor can purchase their Lotto tickets.

Hashagen's 1850s storefront was long ago obliterated; but the upper floors are little changed since his last alteration in 1869.

photographs by the author

Fanelli Cafe - No. 94 Prince Street

As the 18th century drew to a close, New York City was encroaching northward into former estates and farmland.  Some of them, like the property of wealthy loyalist James DeLancey, had been confiscated after their owners had been banished.

In 1797 a new street was laid out, running more-or-less east-west.  The land was owned by the Bayard family; having been deeded to Nicholas Bayard (nephew of Peter Stuyvesant) by the British Government in 1697.  Oddly enough, just 14 years after New Yorkers celebrated the evacuation of the British, it was given the name Prince Street.

By the 1820s the neighborhood had filled with brick-faced Federal style homes.  But the respectable tone of the district quickly declined.  By mid-century Greene and Mercer Streets were the center of Manhattan's red light district.

A small wooden house and store was located at the southwest corner of Prince and Mercer  in 1846.  The following year it was leased to 31-year old German immigrant Herman Gerken.  Gerken and his German wife, Anna, lived upstairs.  The couple would have four children, Anna, Henry, Maria (or Mary) and Theodore (called Gath). 

In 1853 Gerken purchased the property, and five years later replaced it with a handsome five-story Italianate structure of red brick.   The openings were given brownstone sills and lintels.  A cast metal cornice with paneled frieze and foliate brackets completed the design. Gerken's saloon, which he euphemistically listed as "grocery," was in the ground floor space.

The Gerken family moved into the building, as did other renters.  One was a Mrs. Eldridge, who it seems, gave birth to an unwanted child in 1860.  On July 23, 1861 she placed an advertisement in The New York Herald in an attempt to find what today would be termed a foster family.

Board Wanted--For a Child Fifteen Months old--Inquire of Mrs. Eldridge, No. 94 Prince street, corner of Mercer, between 9 o'clock A.M. and 4 o'clock P.M.  None but American or Scotch need apply.

John Gerken worked in the saloon by 1863.  On the evening of March 3, three men briefly stopped in, paying with a $5 note.   Just weeks before the Government passed the National Currency Act establishing the Federal dollar, states and territories still printed their own notes.  This one was issued by The Highland Bank of Hudson City, New Jersey.

Except that it wasn't.

On March 6 The New York Times reported that a "well-concocted" counterfeit ring had been broken.  "About thirty of these notes were passed off upon shopkeepers and various retail dealers, in the neighborhood of Greene, Spring, Prince and Broome streets before the fraud was discovered."


The newspaper described the ringleader, George McDougal as a "well-dressed young man," who was "very prepossessing in his appearance, and, from his conversational powers, a man of education."  He appeared on March 5 at the Jefferson Market Police Court, where "he was confronted" by four complainants, including John Gerken.


In 1865 Adolph Hillon leased and operated the saloon.  He, his wife Mary, and their son George, lived upstairs.  Late on the night of October 13, 1865 George Hillon was visiting in the Gerken apartment.  Things got out of hand when Anna and her son, Henry, got into an argument.  The following day The New York Herald reported "by some unexplained means a pistol in the pantaloons pocket of the young man exploded, the ball lodging in his right thigh."

Infuriated, Henry pulled out the weapon and fired at his mother.  The bullet hit her in the face, lodging in her upper jaw.  In an apparent blind rage, he fired again, this time grazing George Hillon in the cheek.  "The fourth shot took effect in one of his own fingers," said the article.

Police soon arrived and took the parties to the station house.  The police surgeon was able to extract the ball from Henry's leg; but Anna was in much more serious condition.  She was taken to the New York Hospital.

Two days later The New York Herald reported that "the desperate young man arrested late on Friday night" had been arraigned on a charge of felonious assault and held on $1,500 bail.  Anna, "who is still lying in a dangerous condition at the New York Hospital," was unable to file charges, so George Hillon filed charges for not only for himself, but on her behalf.

At the time the downstairs saloon was listed in directories as a "porter house," a bar specializing in serving dark, porter beer.  In the neighborhood filled with brothels, its patrons would have been mostly working class immigrants more familiar with inexpensive beer than wine or spirits.

In the 19th century it was not the saloon owner, but whoever was on duty who was arrested for excise violations--most often serving liquor on Sundays.  Adolph Hillon was arrested, then arraigned at the Jefferson Market Courthouse on June 29, 1866.  His bail was set at $100, more than $1,500 today.

The following year, in February, William Smith was arrested for "exposing liquors for sale on the Sabbath."  His $300 bail made Hillon's seem affordable.

Herman Gerken's will left Anna "the use and profits of all my real and personal estate."  Each of the children received $1,500.  Although Maria was married when the estate was settled in 1867, she was still a minor; so the courts ruled she was "entitled to one-quarter of the amount, which must be paid to her husband, who is her general guardian."

Henry had opened his own saloon at No. 63 New Bowery by now.  But like his father he had problems with the Excise Board.  Finally, on November 26 that year, his liquor license was revoked.

Anna Gerken retained possession of the building; but she was apparently not interested in running the business.  On August 8, 1868 she placed an advertisement in The New York Herald.  "Oyster and Dining Saloon, with Private Supper Rooms for sale."

The upper floors had been operated as a boarding house; but while the Gerken family kept possession of the building, they left No. 94 Prince Street in 1870.  An auction was held on August 16 that year to liquidate the "boarding house and restaurant furniture."

Commerce had already begun taking over the Prince and Mercer Street neighborhood and the first of businesses within the upper rooms appeared in 1871 when Schmidlin & Driscoll, dealers in "lamps and reflections" were listed here.

Around the same time C. Richard and his partner ran an artificial flower manufacturing shop in the building.  On June 3, 1874 Richard looked to retire and offered a "splendid chance to make money--A businessman, with some cash, wanted, to take the place of a partner retiring, in a well paying business."

When he had no takers by September, he amended his advertisement.  "For Sale--A business in the artificial flowers line, cheap for cash; a competent man will remain to run the shop if desired."  He finally found a buyer in French immigrant Paul Madoule, who would be here into the 1890s.  The artificial flowers he made were indispensable for the millinery industry.

In 1878 Nicholas Gerdes took over operation of the saloon.   His liquor license in 1883 cost him $75, more than $1,800 in 2017 dollars.  It was most likely Gerdes who was responsible for the late Victorian saloon front that survives, with its exquisite etched and cut glass door panels.  His saloon would remain here until 1902.  More than a barkeeper, he dealt in neighborhood real estate as well; and in 1890 hired architect Julius Kastner to design alterations to his commercial building at No. 110 Washington Place.

In the transom above the splendid cut-and-etched glass doors, Nicholas Gerdes' name can still be seen.

Meanwhile the upper floors filled with apparel millinery and related firms.  In 1889 Frederick Oppenheimer headed Nusbaum & Oppenheimer, manufacturers of artificial flowers here; while the related company, Nusbaum & Co. made "straw and felt hats and bonnets" was also in the building.

On August 20, 1893 The New York Times reported "Soon after Frederick Oppenheimer's artificial flower factory, at 94 Prince Street, was closed yesterday smoke was seen coming from the upper window on the Prince Street side of the building."  Shortly after fire fighters arrived from the nearby Mercer Street station, the pumpers ran out of water.  A second alarm was ordered.

"When a full supply of water came it was the work of five minutes to get control of the flames, which had destroyed the roof and burned out the fourth and fifth floors," said the newspaper.  Oppenheimer's losses were estimated at between $20,000 and $25,000, and damages to the building were set at $4,000.

Cloak manufacturer Henry Neadel was in the repaired building by 1899.  That year, in July, his domestic problems became public when his wife, Bessie, sued him for "a limited divorce," $8 a week alimony and lawyer fees.  She accused her husband of "becoming infatuated with a model in his employ," neglecting her, and leaving her without means of support.  She said he "was taking the model round to theatres and other places of amusement and spending money lavishly upon her."


Neadel had another story.  He denied having an affair and said, "I never experienced a happy day with my wife since within a short time after our marriage, as she is possessed of an ungovernable temper and of a very disagreeable disposition, and has a great and abnormal avarice and desire for money."

Once he got started, he aired all the dirty laundry.  "My bed was not cleaned for months at a time, and my nights during the Summer were tortures to me and afforded me no sleep, because I had to lie awake fighting off bedbugs, all of which was the result of the neglect and carelessness of the plaintiff."

Neadel insisted his wife never cooked for him, but "would send to a delicatessen store and buy a roll, a little cheese, and a bottle of soda water;" the only meals he had for six months.  She would go through his pockets and take his money.  According to his testimony, when he asked for it back she would "scream in a loud voice 'Murderer!' and 'Stop hitting me!' so as to arouse the neighbors" and make then think he was abusing her.

Another apparel firm operating from the upper floors was furrier Pike & Rosenberg which remained until declaring bankruptcy in 1913.  By now Charles Hirschbein had succeeded Nicholas Gerdes in running the saloon; followed by Harry Green in 1905, who named it the Prince Cafe.  Business was substantially affected by Prohibition, which went into effect in January 1920.  In 1922 the Green family sold the business to Michael Fanelli.

The following year The New York Times reported on June 19 that Mrs. Anna C. H. Gerken had leased the "entire five-story building, 94 Prince Street," to the Nelson Dairy Lunch Company.  The article said the firm "will occupy same after extensive alterations are made" and noted "This building has been in this family and under one ownership for more than seventy years."

If the Nelson Dairy Lunch Company intended to install a luncheonette in the former barroom, it never came to pass.  And in 1928 Fanelli's employee Harry Bruns joined the long tradition of workers hauled off to jail.  He was fined $250 on November by Federal Judge William Bondy for possessing liquor.  The judge explained the substantial fine (nearly $3,500 today) saying "The question is one of observing or not observing the law.  Penalties will be severe enough to make lawbreakers realize that there is such a thing as law enforcement."

Throughout the century, as delivery trucks rumbled down the stone-paved streets, and the cast iron and brick loft buildings gathered rust and grime; the vintage saloon front of Fanelli's Cafe remained untouched.  In the last quarter of the century Soho was reinvented as a trendy district of artists' lofts, galleries and shops.  Once the haunt of immigrant workers, Fanelli's now hosted artists, musicians, and tourists.

In 1982 the Fanelli family sold the business to Hans Noe, whose family still operates the landmark bar.  After 160 years Herman Gerken's red brick building survives little changed in a neighborhood that is anything but.

photographs by the author