The Lost Dry Dock Savings Bank - 341-343 Bowery

 

original source unknown

Starting early 1820's, the former Stuyvesant family land along the East River east of the Bowery became Manhattan's main shipbuilding location, earning the district the name of the Dry Dock Neighborhood.  The following decade saw banks opening along the Bowery--first the Bull's Head Bank (an outgrowth of the Bull's Head Tavern), followed by the Butchers and Drovers Bank in 1830, and the Bowery Savings Bank in 1834.

In 1848 The Dry-Dock Savings Bank was formed by "a number of gentlemen principally interested in [the shipbuilding] industry."  According to King's Handbook of New York, they hoped "to encourage thrift and prudence among their workmen."  Originally located on East 10th Street near the river, it moved to 339-341 East 4th Street in 1859.

And then, in 1872, the directors purchased the properties at the southeast corner of the Bowery and East 3rd Street, "in part occupied as a marble yard," according to the New York Herald on December 12.  The newspaper somewhat lamented the deal, saying, "This precludes the possibility of a new German theatre on what was the favorite site with that part of our population."

The bank hired Prague-born architect Leopold Eidlitz to design its new home.  Generally considered America's first Jewish architect, he was a founding member of the American Institute of Architects.  

Construction began in June 1873 and was completed in December 1875.  Saying the building was "valued at $250,000" ($6 million in today's money), King's Handbook of New York called it "one of the finest buildings in the country for its purposes." Eidlitz's Victorian Gothic, or Ruskinian Gothic, design was striking.  An enclosed portico served as the base for a charming gable-roofed balcony.  Stone balconies clung to the East 3rd Street façade, and the arched openings wore variegated voussoirs, nearly obligatory in the Victorian Gothic style.  The upper floors transitioned to a mélange of shapes and angles, with crisp dormers poking through the several steep roofs.

The bank's name was worked into the arch of the balcony.  original source unknown

The princely building easily stood out among its humbler neighbors.  On October 16, 1886, the Real Estate Record & Guide commented, "people were surprised, and criticized the directors for erecting an ornate and imposing building in so unpromising a region."  Eidlitz had designed one of the last New York City buildings in the fading style.  On April 9, 1898, the Record & Guide said, "In 1868 Victorian Gothic was far from being a new story, even in New York...The movement, however, was closing and of the last notable buildings it gave to New York may be mentioned the Jefferson Market Court House [and] the Dry Dock Savings Bank."  

Only months after the bank moved into its new home trouble arose.  On June 22, 1876 The New York Times entitled an article "The Run on the Dry Dock Bank," and reported, "As early as 9 o'clock yesterday morning the depositors of the Dry Dock Savings Bank...began to congregate in front of the doors of that institution, and from that time until the bank was opened they elbowed and pushed one another in a somewhat vain endeavor to be first to enter."

The newspaper said that the bank's officers had anticipated the rush, and three policemen were there "to keep the excited men and women in line."  Dry Dock Bank's president, Andrew Mills, told the reporter that the bank's officers "were at a loss to account for the run," assuring that "They had plenty of money with which to pay off those then present."  Happily, two days later the Albany Morning Express reported, "The run on the Dry Dock Savings Bank is at an end.  Only twenty persons demanded their money yesterday morning, and were promptly paid.  Many came to draw, but went away without doing so.  Confidence was restored and business proceeded as usual."

The glass plate negative was reversed, resulting in a backwards photograph of the bank.  original source unknown

As the century drew to a close, many of the Bowery banks moved northward, following their depositors.  But the Dry Dock Savings Institution (the name had recently been changed) was firmly rooted in its site.  On May 14, 1896 the New-York Tribune wrote, "The Dry Dock Savings Institution, at No. 343 Bowery, seems as immovable as the hills.  Its building is substantial, commodious and impressive.  Its officers say that there is no talk that the bank will move to a new home."  And, indeed, it would operate from the location for decades to come.

But the neighborhood was, nonetheless, degrading.  At around 10:30 on the morning of July 19, 1909.  Mrs. Rosa Fleischmann arrived at the bank.  She was a long-standing customer and, because she had her two-year-old daughter, Mamie, in her arms, the bank treasurer offered to take her $40 deposit to the teller for her.  As she waited, a man rushed up, snatched her satchel and ran.

Rosa's screams sent Special Officer George Wilson on the thief's trail.  He caught him a block away at the Bowery and East 4th Street, and "hurried him back to the bank," according to The New York Times.  "The commotion caused a great crowd to gather in front of the bank, and President Mills came out and told Wilson to bring the fellow back into his private office."  

There the man turned the tables on Rosa Fleischmann.  Saying he was Aaron Wolberg, a cigarmaker, he insisted she had stolen his bag and he had simply gotten it back.  Inside, he said, was $2,000.  Mills asked him what else was in the satchel.  "Just the money and nothing else," was the reply.

The two-story banking banking room had polished marble columns.  Obligatory spittoons dot the mosaic-tiled floor.  Architectural Record, December 1911 (copyright expired)

Rosa Fleischman was then asked the same question.  She said it held her bankbook and a bottle of milk.  It was opened to reveal the book and the milk.  "It's hers," exclaimed Wolberg, as he bolted for the door.  He was overtaken by Wilson who held him on the floor until Policeman John Spath arrived.  

Wolberg "put up several hard fights on the way to court," said The New York Times, "and Spath's hands were bleeding from several wounds, most of them due to the sharpness of Wolberg's teeth."  Wolberg now changed his story, telling the judge "the bag had been given to him by a stranger."  A policeman suggested that Wolberg was a member of a gang known to loiter around the bank.  The New York Times explained, "It is said that women depositors have often been annoyed by members of this gang."

King's Handbook of New York, 1892 (copyright expired)

In October 1932, Hiram C. Bloomingdale of Bloomingdale Brothers sold four old four-story buildings the northwest corner of Lexington Avenue and 59th Street to the Dry Dock Savings Institution.  Andrew Mills announced that plans were being drawn for a branch bank on the site, while promising that the Bowery building "will continue to be its main office."

The following year the bank hired architect Louis S. Weeks to make interior renovations to the vintage Bowery building.  The updating was restricted to the cavernous banking room and the executive offices. 

By mid-century, the Bowery neighborhood had deteriorated to Manhattan's Skid Row.  On May 18, 1950, The Times Record explained that abandoned funds were not kept by the banking institutions, but after 15 years were turned over to the State.  The article delved into the reason why the owners were sometimes hard to track down.  It noted, "Illiterates are another problem.  The Bowery office of the Dry Dock Savings Bank reported last year that it has had some sad experiences with its unschooled depositors to whom the spelling of their name is a matter of supreme indifference."

from the collection of the Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library, Columbia University

The demographics finally made it impossible for the bank to continue at its location.  On November 9, 1954, The New York Times reported, "A gasoline service station is to replace the old Dry Dock Savings Bank Building...The four-story structure, erected in 1875, has been sold by the bank to the L. B. Oil Company, Inc.

image via villagepreservation.org

The gasoline service station survived into the 21st century, replaced in 2008 by the 16-story Bowery Hotel, designed by Scarano & Associates.

image via tripadvisor.com

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The Lost Tony Pastor's Opera House - 199-201 Bowery

 

The theater was designed to include an income producing tavern.  from the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art

On October 26, 1857, The New York Times complained, "The wooden building No. 199 Bowery, looks as if it were about to fall--it has had a leaning that way for a long while.  Why do not the authorities look to it?"  The article may have been responsible for the removal of the derelict structure between Delancey and Rivington Streets, and the construction of a one-story theater on the site.

Eight months later, on June 30, 1858, The Family Herald reported:

Mr. Hoym, the director of the Stadt [Theatre], has opened a new and more commodious establishment--'Hoym's Summer Theatre,' at Nos. 199 and 201 Bowery.  The theatre is intended, we believe, to take the place of the Stadt...Mrs. Hoym, a capital comedienne, went some time since to Europe for artists.

Like his Stadt Theatre, Otto Hoym's New Theatre offered plays in German and English.  His Bowery audiences were also entertained with other attractions.   An advertisement on September 19, 1858, for instance, listed that varied acts, including Zavistowski's Ballet and Pantomine Troupe; "the prodigy infant Alice and her sister le petite Emeline;" the "graceful and much admired danseuse," Mdlle, Christine; the play, The Warriors of the Harem; and "the beautiful ballet of Sailors Ashore."

And on December 22, 1858, the auditorium was the scene of "A grand Complimentary Sparring Exhibition," as announced in The New York Times.  The highlight of the night was a bare-knuckle match between John Carmel Heenan, known as "Benicia Boy," and John Woods, who claimed the two had a $2,500 side bet (more than $80,000 today).

John C. Heenan, the "Benicia Boy."  Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, April 14, 1860 (copyright expired)

Patrons paid from 13 cents for a seat in the gallery to $4 for a private box.

Trouble had came to both Hoym and his tenant shortly after opening.  On May 2, 1858, The Family Herald reported that Otto Hoym had been arrested and charged with staging a dramatic performance "on the Sabbath, contrary to law."  His tenant, saloon proprietor Gustavus Lindemuller was taken in, as well, "on a similar charge."

It was not the last time the two would appear before a judge.  On November 18, 1860, they were on trial for the same offenses.   Their attorney, James T. Brady, offered ignorance of the law as Hoym's defense, saying in part, "The defendant is a German, coming from a land entertaining very liberal views concerning the observance of Sunday.  On the continent of Europe Sunday is not only a day of worship, but of relaxation and amusement."

When the Civil War broke out, Hoym immediately enlisted in the Union Army.  In his absence, Lindemuller ran the venue, advertising it as Lindenmuller's Theatre.  He continued the wide variety of acts, such as Mr. Albert W. Selden, "the American Horse Master and equestrian missionary," in February 1862.  By his method of tachyhippodamia, "a wild horse may be subdued in twenty minutes."

In 1864 Hoym's Theatre became Howe's Great Circus, offering attractions like Mlle. Marietta Ravel, "the celebrated tight-rope artiste and danseuse," and John Denier, "the wonderful gymnast."  It was a short-lived venture and by November that year the theater was home to Campbell's Minstrels.  It advertised a "Varied and Exciting mélange of Ethiopian Oddities."

That same year Sam Sharpley and Tony Pastor formed Tony Pastor's Variety Company.  Pastor later recalled to The Evening World, "on July 31, 1865, we went into Campbell's Opera-House, No. 201 Bowery.  We took the house for two weeks and stayed there ten years."

The partners bought the building and renamed it Tony Pastor's Opera house.  The following summer Pastor bought out Sharpley and took over the management on his own.  Although he was a temperance adherent, Pastor allowed the lager beer saloon to remain, but refused to have patrons bring drinks into the theater.

Tony Pastor's 201 Bowery Songer, 1867 (copyright expired)

While Pastor enjoyed tremendous success in his variety theater, the saloon had troubles.  It was being operated by Peter Tracy in 1867 when he was shot to death in a drunken brawl in a Livingston Street restaurant.  It then became Charley Shay's Quincuplexal Saloon, where "the original Cynocephalus" was displayed in a glass case.  Shay's advertisement on April 3, 1869 called it "The only orang outang that ever appeared in any part of the world as a circus rider."

The "largest and best fitted up Billard Hall and Saloon on the Bowery" was offered for sale in 1870.  And in 1874 the now vacant space was advertised as "splendid for restaurant, beer of billiard saloon."  It now became Roe's Billiard hall.

Tony Pastor remained in the building until 1875.  He moved northward to East 14th Street, taking space in the same building as Tammany Hall.    The Bowery building was briefly home to the Bowery Opera House (on May 7, 1875, it advertised "Buffalo Bill and Kit Carson to appear at Matinee this afternoon), and then the Volks' Garden variety theater. 

In 1883 architect William Graul was hired to remodel the venue.  When it reopened on September 3, the name Volks' Garden was anglicized to the People's Theatre.  On September 16 that year the play The Irish Arab was staged.  Meanwhile, the saloon was again under new management.  In 1893 A Souvenir of New York's Liquor Interests called it "one of the finest saloons in the city, and at night, when its numerous electric lamps are lighted a brilliant fairy-like effect is produced."

The People's Theatre was owned and operated by former congressman Henry Clay Miner.  On February 24, 1900 the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that one of the last transactions he had done before his sudden death three days earlier was the renting of the "theater and cafe" to Adler & Edelstein.

Jacob Adler was a popular Jewish actor and, while he and Edelstein kept the theater's name, it's offerings changed.  On April 26, 1901, for instance, The Jewish Messenger announced, "A benefit performance of the Jewish 'King Lear' by Jacob Adler, the Yiddish actor, and his company, will be given under the auspices of the Federation of East Side Clubs at the People's Theatre, No9. 201 Bowery."

On the frigid night of January 19, 1904 fire broke out.  The New-York Tribune reported, "There were a number of actors and stage hands in the theatre when the fire started.  A Yiddish play is being acted at the theatre in the evenings, and a rehearsal as in progress."  The blaze rapidly spread into the stage loft and through the roof.  By the time firefighters extinguished the fire, it had spread to several other structures.  

"When the fire was out the front of the building could hardly be seen because of the ice," said the article.

Ice covers the sidewalk and facade of the heavily damaged theatre.  New-York Tribune, January 20, 1904.

The Henry C. Miner estate filed plans for reparations and renovations on March 10.  They called for new staircases enclosed within brick fire walls, "fireproof ceilings," and a rearranged auditorium that increased seating to 2,060.  The building was altered again in 1908 by architect Louis Maurer.

The New York Times, December 17, 1915 (copyright expired)

Beginning in 1915 the Yiddish troupe shared the building with Louis Zuro's Italian Zuro Grand Opera Company.  He opened the season on April 26 with a performance of Aida, with soprano Alice Eversman in the title role.

Diva Alice Eversman, Musical America, March 10, 1917 (copyright expired)

Little by little the Italian audiences nudged out the Yiddish patrons.  On October 7, 1916 The New York Clipper reported, "A drama by Arthuro Giovannitti, entitled 'Tenehre Rosse' ('Red Darkness') will be produced Tuesday night, Oct. 10, in the People's Theatre...Mimi Aguglia, the Sicilian actress, who is here studying English preparatory to playing on the English-speaking stage, will help produce the play."

The venerable building was remodeled again in the fall of 1916 by architect R. Thomas Short.  By February 24, 1932, when another fire broke out, the entertainment had noticeably changed.  The New York Sun reported that traffic to the Williamsburg Bridge was tied up for an hour "while firemen battled a smoky fire in the basement of the People's Theater, a burlesque house."  

A barber shop operated from the former saloon space around 1941 and a marquee had been added.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The venue had returned to Italian plays staged by the Campobasso Company by 1938.  That year The Italians of New York, a guidebook by the Federal Writers Project, said, "The plays these companies present are very similar in thematic material and in characterization to those produced in Italian theaters in the Bowery a generation ago."

Live theater gave way to motion pictures before long.  But the end of the line for the single-story building was on the horizon.  It was demolished in 1945.  Somewhat appropriately, a single-story building that also serves as the entrance to a 12-story apartment house occupies the site.

image via citi-urban.com

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From Picture Frames to Debbie Harry - 266 Bowery

photo by Rob Oliver

In 1832 dry goods merchant Daniel C. Boughton lived in the two-and-a-half story Federal style house at No. 266 Bowery between Prince and Houston Streets.    Within a decade it had been converted for business, with Holdridge & Co.'s drug company in the ground floor.  Among the items it marketed to pharmacists and direct users were the Dinner Pill, a "means of exterminating disease and promoting health," and "Dr. Taylor's original and genuine Balsam of Liverwort."

By 1847 George W. Vroom operated his "oyster cellar" under the store and the following year Millington & Brother's umbrella factory was in the rear building, numbered 266-1/2.  Eventually the company took over the store in the main house, as well.

American Advertiser, 1851 (copyright expired)

Around 1866 Charles Wilatus and his wife, Augusta, purchased the building.  Augusta opened her millinery shop in half of the store along side of Millington & Brother. 

On March 26, 1870 The New York Times entitled an article "Serious Fire in the Bowery" and reported "At 9 o'clock last evening a fire was discovered on the first floor of No. 266 Bowery, in the umbrella and parasol store of F. S. Millington & Brother, who also occupied the upper floors of No. 266 1/2.  The stock of Millington was entirely destroyed, and the building, which is a two-story and attic, was very seriously damaged."

On January 6, 1874 Charles Wilatus sold the property to a "Mr. Mullaters" for $40,000--just over $925,000 today.  Years later real estate agent Edmund C. Price recalled in court, "I remember in the year 1874, property No. 266 Bowery, which is south of Houston street--it is one of the small houses...There was a very good house on it."  Mullaters, he said, replaced it with a new building which was "certainly adapted for dwelling purposes...the house was fitted up with all the modern improvements.  Mr. Mullaters was a wealthy man."

The new Italianate style structure was four stories tall, faced in red brick above the storefront.  Interestingly, Augusta Wilatus moved her millinery shop back into the store, remaining at least through 1879; and by that time she and her husband had repurchased the property.

Augusta and Charles sold it on July 20, 1880 to Henry Waters, a real estate developer and builder who moved into one of the upstairs apartments with his wife.  The following year he enlarged the rear extension by raising it one floor.  

By now the Bowery neighborhood had greatly changed from the residential street it was in 1832 when Daniel C. Boughton lived quietly here.  In his 1882 New York by Sunlight and Gaslight James Dabney McCabe, Jr. wrote:

[The shops] are devoted mainly to retail stores of the cheap order, one peculiarity of which is that about half the stock is displayed on the sidewalk.  Soda fountains, peanut and fruit-stands impede the progress of the passers-by at every step, and street-vendors of all kinds hawk their wares along the entire course of the street.  The Bowery is crowded day and night with a motley throng...The street is a paradise of beer saloons, bar-rooms, concert and dance halls, cheap theatres, and low-class shows.

In 1882 Waters sold the building to Isaac Rosenfeld.  It was a move that irritated his wife and he bought the property back on December 29, 1882, giving Rosenfeld a $26,300 profit in today's dollars.  Waters later explained in court, "I afterwards repurchased the same property, because I made a good deal of money, in that store, and I was very sorry for selling that property...I paid all his expenses to get the property back, to satisfy my wife."

Mrs. Waters would be placated for less than a year, however.  Although they continued to live in the building and Waters to run his business here at least through 1887, on October 1, 1883 he sold the 16-foot wide "store and tenement" to John A. McLaughlin.

Waters and his wife were gone by August 1888 when McLaughlin leased No. 266 to Jacob Berlinsky, who opened his frame shop, J. Berlinsky & Brother, in the store, and moved his family into the upper portion.  

Jacob Berlinsky changed his name before 1894 when he renewed his lease as Jacob Berlin.  The frame shop, now J. Berlin & Brother, remained in the space until the turn of the century.

Around 1900 John J. Mensching, a mortgage and insurance agent, purchased the building and moved his office in.  He partnered with S. Urbach in 1902 in Curtin's Transfer & Storage Co., which also operated from the address.  The firm was one of several throughout the city which picked up luggage from hotels and transported it to railroad depots, and vice-versa.

One of the company's employees, John Barrell, suffered a horrifying accident on Christmas Eve 1907.  The New-York Tribune reported that he "was fatally injured in trying to prevent a horse which he was driving from running away at Dey and West streets...The animal fell on top of him and crushed him so badly that he lived only an hour."

By 1912 Max Jorrisch ran the Jorrisch Pawnbrokers Sales Store, Inc. in the ground floor and lived upstairs.  He remained until around 1919 when the New England Incandescent Supply Co. operated here.  That March Hardware Dealers' Magazine called No. 266 "the smallest hardware store in the world."

The New England Incandescent Supply Co. was more of a housewares store than a traditional hardware store, however.  In 1920, for instance, homemakers could buy the Apex Electric Suction [vacuum] Cleaner here.

The Great Depression brought an even worse reputation to the Bowery, which became known as Skid Row because of the down-and-out derelicts that lined its sidewalks.  Nevertheless, by 1948 the John DeSalvio Association and the headquarters of politician Louis F. DeSalvio were here.

Born in New York City, the son of district leader John DeSalvio (who also boxed under the name of "The Legendary Jimmy Kelly"), DeSalvio was first elected to the New York State Assembly in November 1940.  He would serve in the Assembly for 38 years and was still listed at the Bowery address as late as 1964.

Around the time DeSalvio's headquarters moved in the ground floor had become home to Globe Slicers, a peculiar combination of retail liquor store and restaurant equipment supplier.  (The equipment store remains minus the liquor business.)

In the 1970's the second floor apartment was home to Debbie Harry, lead singer of the band Blondie, and her boyfriend, band guitarist Chris Stein.  The location was conveniently close to CBGB and music club opened in 1973.

Blondie in the second floor apartment.  photo by Chris Stein from Making Tracks: The Rise of Blondie (1998)

Blondie met and rehearsed in the apartment and various members would sleep there after long nights or performances.  Harry and Stein, who had to share a bathroom with other residents, paid $300 a month for the less-than-upscale rooms.

At the same time designer Stephen Sprouse lived on the top floor.  Born in Dayton, Ohio, his fashions in Day-Glo graffiti-print designs eventually sparked a movement.  He is credited with pioneering the "downtown punk" style.

Stephen Sprouse and Debbie Harry photographer and original source unknown

The 21st century saw change happening on the grungy Bowery.  On both sides of the block between Prince and East Houston Streets sleek modern apartment buildings have risen.  Yet, for the time being at least, No. 266 remains unchanged.

many thanks to ready Rob Oliver for suggesting this post.

Wm. Dilthey's No. 161 Bowery

A recent white paint job obscures the contrasting materials and delicate design elements.

At the turn of the last century reformers launched aggressive attacks on the notorious Tenderloin and Bowery districts.  The music halls of the Bowery had for years been, in fact, sordid dens haunted by prostitutes.  On March 14, 1900 the New-York Tribune noted the change in the neighborhood prompted by reform groups like the Parkhurst Society.

Police Captain Thomas was threatened with indictment for corruption.  And the evening before police had driven the prostitutes from the Bowery music halls.  “The Bowery was quieter than usual,” said the newspaper.  Included in the list of seven music halls mentioned was Flynn’s, at No. 161 Bowery.  Like the others, Flynn’s held its stage performance, but “the programme was toned down, and business was dull.  The women who frequent the places mentioned either were in the street or remained at home.”

Later that same year Flynn’s Music Hall was demolished.  Architect William Dilthey was commissioned by the estate of Nehemian U. Tompkins to design a replacement structure which would reflect The Bowery’s changing personality.  His completed 23-foot wide, seven-story factory and store building was essentially Renaissance Revival.  But Dilthey liberally splashed his design with neo-Classical elements.  A two story limestone and cast iron base incorporated Corinthian columns and flowery swags, upon which four engaged classical urns perched.   

The delicate bell flowers, swags and draped urns might have seemed more expected on a department store than a factory building.

The motif reappeared in below the sixth story cornice where flowers dripped from wreathed cartouches connected by floral swags.  Dilthey added dimension by interrupting the rusticated brick piers with jutting, angled elements supported by foliate brackets at each floor.

James E. Bristol leased the new store, signing a 10-year lease on April 26, 1901.  His initial rent was $2,100 per year, increasing to $2,500 by the end of the lease (about $6,000 a month for the larger amount in 2016 terms.)  Bristol dealt in “grocer, delicatessen, hotel and restaurant fixtures;” a pre-shadowing of the Bowery as Manhattan’s restaurant supply district about half a century later.

In February 1903 the “upper lofts of the new building recently erected,” as described by the Real Estate Record & Guide, were leased to the National Cigar Manufacturing Co., whose home offices were in Albany.  Other floors were occupied by apparel manufacturers, including William Levin, who employed just two workers making sweaters; and Abraham Gold, whose four workers manufactured vests.

When the Nehemiah U. Tompkins Estate sold the building to William G. Willmann in 1910, its tenant list included apparel firms like Levin & Goldberg, and Hartman, Langmeyer & Plattner; and the Eisenberg Cigarette Co.  Another tobacco related firm, the Parodi Cigar Co., Inc. was in the building before 1915, when it began construction on a $75,000 factory building in Jersey City.  That same year The Evening Post valued No. 161 Bowery at $63,500; in the neighborhood of $1.5 million today.

William G. Willmann leased the entire building in December 1916 to the United Office & Fixture Company.  But a sub-tenant was far more recognized.  Tammany Hall politician Timothy Daniel Sullivan, known familiarly as “Big Tim Sullivan,” had run sway over the East Side from the T. D. Sullivan Association clubrooms at No. 207 Bowery.  Sullivan died in 1909; however the Association continued, moving to No. 161.

On December 26, 1916 The Sun noted “It used to be that every Christmas as many men as could be fed in the course of a whole day crowded into the Sullivan clubrooms at 207 Bowery and there was a big time, with a lot of important persons who owed allegiance to the Sullivans coming to the Bowery fro uptown and helping with the celebration. 

“However, the T. D. Sullivan Association distributed 1,200 Christmas baskets at its headquarters 161 Bowery…All of the forenoon there was a long line of poorly clad men, women and children filing in and out of the clubhouse and receiving their baskets of chicken, canned soup, coffee, macaroni, vegetables, fruit and candy.  In each basket there was food enough to feed six persons.”

By the end of World War I, when William G. Willman sold No. 161, garment manufacturers had moved northward.  In 1919 tenants like “metal spinners” Schottky & Son occupied the building.

The depressed conditions of the Bowery reflected in the Sullivan Association’s Christmas charities continued throughout most of the 20^th century.  Popularly called New York’s Skid Row by the 1960s, it was famous for its flophouses and derelicts.  But the dawn of the 21^st century saw a renaissance of the neighborhood.

The change was no more evident than at No. 161 Bowery when, in 2014 artist Shepard Fairey completed a 30 by 40 foot mural on the southern exposure.  The work was commissioned by the Little Italy Street Art Project. 

While Fairey painted the brick wall outside, work was going on inside the building.  One by one, as the leases expired, former factory spaces were being converted to modern residences.  The entire structure was slathered in white paint, successfully hiding the contrasting materials and obscuring Dilthey's delicate neo-Classical elements.

Nevertheless, William Dilthey’s handsome blend of architectural styles stands out among its gritty neighbors; a symbol of major change that came to the Bowery at the turn of the last century.

photographs by the author

The New Amsterdam Savings Bank -- No. 215 Bowery

As early as 1837 John Odell, “tavern keeper,” operated from the ground floor of the small hotel on the corner of the Bowery and Rivington Street. The tavern and hotel, under various owners and managers, endured as the Bowery neighborhood changed into the center of the German community by the 1850s.

The Germans established their own churches, newspapers, social clubs and businesses.  The New Amsterdam Savings Bank was organized in 1869 to serve the German-speaking community.   The names of bank’s officers reflected the personality of the neighborhood: Theobald Frohwein was President, John Riegelmann Vice President, John Guth was Treasurer and Jacob Rosenhain Secretary.

Within only two years the bank was successful enough to plan its own headquarters.  The old hotel property at No. 215 Bowery was obtained and on July 27, 1872 the Real Estate Record and Guide reported German-born architect Charles Kinkel had filed plans for a “four-story Ohio stone, first-class store” for the New Amsterdam Savings Bank.  Another German immigrant, Joseph Schaeffler, received the contract to construct the building.

The completed structure was, in fact, five stories.  Kinkel faced the Bowery elevation with stone, which wrapped around the Rivington Street side for two bays before giving way to red brick. The stone-faced Renaissance Revival design appeared again in the eastern-most two bays.  Kinkel’s dignified design included Renaissance-inspired pediments within the stone portion; and trendier lintels with incised designs of the Eastlake Movement on the Rivington Street side.  An especially attractive pressed metal cornice crowned it all.

The New Amsterdam Savings Bank’s construction project could not have come at a worse time.  A year earlier the German Empire stopped minting silver coins; a decision that lowered the value of silver, much of which was mined in the United States.  A chain of domino-effect events resulted in the Financial Panic of 1873, one of the worst and longest-lasting financial depressions in U.S. history.

On September 23, 1873 The New York Herald tried to calm readers, many of whom were already participating in runs on banks.  A headline read “RELIEF.  Calm and Order Returning to Wall Street.”  The article reported on the condition of every Manhattan bank, and included “The New Amsterdam Bank, Bowery and Rivington street, went on as usual, without any particular draw upon the deposits or especial lodgments by customers.  The officers were ready for an emergency had it arisen”

While the bank struggled on, helped by the unusual patience and trust of its depositors, the upper floors of No. 215 Bowery were leased as offices and lodge rooms.  In July 1874 the Arcturus Lodge, No. 274 of the Freemasons moved in.   Other tenants were Solomon Hertz, insurance agent; attorney Francis H. Rodenburg; and oddly enough, Charles A. Milner “artist.”  Unlike the other tenants who lived nearby (Hertz lived on East 4^th, and Rodenburg on Ludlow Street) Millner’s home was far uptown, at No. 550 East 82^nd Street.

While depositors clung to their faith in the bank, the New Amsterdam Savings Bank was faltering.  On September 30, 1876 The New York Herald noted “To the casual observer the New Amsterdam Savings Bank, at No. 215 Bowery, wore its wonted appearance yesterday.  When the information that an injunction to suspend business had been served on the bank it was expected that a ‘run’ would be the result.  Nothing of the kind occurred, however, and yesterday the vicinity of the bank was as quiet as usual.”

Instead, the cashier, Mr. Weber, told a reporter that “the depositors had perfect confidence in the announcement made by the President that the bank was capable of paying 100 cents on the dollar, and that the injunction and receiver had been applied for in the best interests of the depositors.”

The bank remained open until 3:00 that afternoon, as always.  But it never reopened.

The same year that the New Amsterdam Savings Bank was incorporated, 1869, another German-language bank had been organized: The Germania Bank of the City of New York.   The Germania Bank was faring much better than its competitor—so much better that when the receiver of the New Amsterdam Savings Bank put the Bowery property on the market in February 1878 the Germania Bank purchased it for $42,800.

As The Germania Bank set up operations in the new space, the upper floors continued to be leased to businesses and lodges.  In 1879 the Free and Accepted Masons of the State of New York published a list of “Lodges working in the German Tongue.”  Among them were the Germania Lodge and the Goethe Lodge at No. 215 Bowery.   By 1887 two lodges of the Odd Fellows were listed here—the Knickerbocker Lodge and the Empire Lodge.

In 1886 German-born architect William Graul had his offices in the building.  He was still here when he partnered with William C. Frohne in 1892 to form Graul & Frohne.

By now the Financial Panic had passed and The Germania Bank was performing well.  In 1888 Illustrated New York: The Metropolis of To-Day reported the bank's cash capital at $200,000, with a surplus of more than $300,000; “a fact that proves the soundness of its present condition.”

Along the Rivington Street side, behind the banking rooms, were stores.  In 1891 Morris Marks ran his hardware store in one of them.  In October that year the bank advertised vacancies in other ground floor spaces:  “Stores with Two Rooms—Suitable for any business; plate glass fronts; cheap rent.”

Although the Bowery was declining in the last decade of the 19^th century, No. 215 continued to house respectable tenants.  Henry C. Botty’s law offices were here in 1895 when the New-York Tribune described him saying he “was born December 27, 1854 of German parentage...He perfected his law studies at Columbia Law School, being graduated in May 1875, and was admitted to the bar in January, 1876, soon after becoming of age.  Mr. Botty has ever since been engaged in the general practice of the law and has a large clientage, especially on the East Side and among the Germans.”  Henry Botty was appointed a judge of the City Court by Governor Morton on July 30, 1895.

In February 1898 ground was broken for the Germania Bank’s new $200,000 headquarters at Bowery and Spring Street.  Later that year, as the new building was being constructed, President Edward C. Schaefer commented on the changing Bowery and his continued confidence in it.

On December 28 The New York Times reported “He remarked that there was a much greater volume of banking business done in the Bowery than many people imagined, and that thoroughfare was not altogether given up to dime museums and beer saloons and cheap dance halls.  There were a good many manufacturers, and also large business houses there.”

What Schaefer did not mention was the change in demographics of the Bowery.  A druggist across the street from No 215 Bowery commented in January 1907, “First it was American, then Irish, then German, and now it is Jewish.”

The change was reflected in the tenants list in the former Germania Bank building and by 1915 the influx of Italians was also visible.  That year Gutman &Co., tailors, was here, operated by Samuel Gutman, Abraham Lipshitz, Isidore Gutman, Louis Rosen, and David Wisch.  Another tailor shop was Gambino & Realmuto, owned by Guiseppe Gambino and Frank Realmuto.  And Robert D. Costello operated his New York Barber College here that same year.  The barber school would remain at the address at least through 1919.

In 1937, during the last years of the Great Depression, Manufacturers Trust Corporation opened a branch in the building.  At the time the Bowery was suffering its darkest years, earning it the nickname Skid Row. 

In October 1939 a pharmacy operated in front store of No. 215 Bowery (far right).  The second floor had already been altered.  The elevated train still runs down the middle of the Bowery.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Improvement finally, and slowly, came in the last quarter of the century when the area became the Restaurant Supply District.  In 1977 artist Todd Stone had his studio and showroom in the building.  And in 1985 a conversion resulted in just two massive apartments per floor (a decade later the second floor apartments were united as a single residential unit).

Although the lower two floors have been altered beyond recognition, Charles Kinkel’s handsome bank and office building survives beautifully intact on the upper floors.  

photographs by the author