Church of Our Lady of Sorrows -- 105 Pitt Street

Political and social unrest in the German states prompted thousands of immigrants to settle in New York City beginning in the late 1840s.  By 1855 only Berlin and Vienna had larger German-speaking populations.  The new citizens clustered on the Lower East Side, creating what would become known as Kleindeutschland, or Little German.

In 1857 Rev. Bonaventure Frey, a Capuchin priest, founded the Church of Our Lady of Sorrows for the German Catholics.  Thirty years later The Evening World would comment “In those years immigration had begun to increase to such an extent that its effect was very appreciable, especially in the east side district.”  Rev. Frey’s new congregation was original an offshoot of St. Mary’s Roman Catholic Church.  The New York Times later remembered “the first parish mass was said in a billiard room at 121 Pitt Street.”  But within a decade its separation from St. Mary’s was authorized by Archbishop Mc Closkey “who saw and appreciated the needs of the German Catholics in that part of the city,” as explained by The World.

Three lots were purchased on Pitt Street, just off the corner of Stanton Street, in 1867 and German-born architect Henry Engelbert was hired to design a permanent church building.  The cornerstone was laid on August 15, 1867.  Completed in 1868, the structure exhibited a jumble of styles, the effectiveness of which can easily be argued.

A split staircase let to the paired entrance doors nearly a story above street level.  Romanesque arches, Gothic corbels and a square, somewhat stumpy bell tower joined with various niches and openings to create a dizzying visual display.  The Evening World called it “a handsome structure of the Byzantine style.” 

On Sunday, September 6, 1868 Archbishop John McCloskey dedicated the new church, which was capable of seating 1,200 worshipers.  Apparently not overly-impressed, the New York Herald gave the event a single sentence.

The newspaper was more moved six months later when the organ was dedicated on April 30, 1869.  It was built by Felix Barckhoff, who had arrived in American from Westphalia, Germany just four years earlier.  The Herald remarked “This pretty little church, in Pitt Street, was crowded to its utmost capacity last night.”  The evening featured several choral groups “with several well known artists,” and solo performances on the instrument.

The New York Herald deemed the organ “a genuine novelty and success, the solo stops being true to their orchestral original and the mixture being of an entirely different quality from what we have heard on other more pretentious organs.”  The article summed up the evening saying “Few churches in this city presented such a brilliant appearance last night as that of Our Lady of Sorrows.”

While the church was widely known for its German congregation; the funerals of Irish immigrants were frequently held here; possibly because the deceased had no church of their own.  In October 1873, for instance, the funeral of Mary Ronan, “wife of Michael” was held at Our Lady of Sorrows.  She was a native of Limerick, Ireland.  And two months later Patrrick McGill’s funeral was held in the church.  He had come from County Donegal.

Connected to the church was the Capuchin Convent, also founded by Rev. Frey.  And in 1874 a new school building was completed on the corner of Pitt and Stanton Streets, next door.  On December 14 that year the church ladies staged a “grand fair” in the hall of the school to offset the construction costs.  Church fairs were a common means of fund-raising in the 19^th century; and The New York Herald promised “a number of tables well covered with objects of art and virtu will surround the spacious hall, and tasteful draping depend from the walls and ceiling.”

The newspaper reported that shopper could find articles “some of great value and rare curiosity, and there is little doubt that with the efficient corps of lady attendants the fair will be an entire success.”

By the 1890s another immigrant group, the Italians, was edging into Little Germany.  Although services in Our Lady of Sorrows were still celebrated in German, the new arrivals often dropped into the open church to pray.  One of these was Michael Marricini, who stopped in on the afternoon of November 23, 1893.

Many residents of the surrounding tenements struggled to survive; and unexpected babies could be a significant financial hardship.  There was no better place than a church to leave an infant which its parents could not afford to care for.  As Marricini knelt in the silence of the church, he heard “a feeble wail.”  The New York Times reported the following day “In a seat near his he found a girl baby, about a month old, which had been abandoned.”

A slip of paper was on the pew near the infant, on which was written “Anna Skimbaer, Katolik.”  The little girl was wearing a polka dot dress.  Little Anna was taken to Police Headquarters.

In the summer of 1899 the 30-year old building received a make-over.  A sculpture by Joseph Sibbel, representing the Blessed Virgin holding the dead Christ was installed over the doorway.  Eleven feet long and six feet high, the beautiful work of art filled the lunette above the entrance.  Inside the church the lantern received eight mural paintings by William Lamprecht.  The New York Times reported in August that “The entire church is being modernized and decorated.”

By 1913 the number of Italian congregants prompted Rome to send two Italian priests to Our Lady of Sorrows.  In a rather bigoted remark The Fortnightly Review reported in 1917 that they “now conduct regular services for the Italians on Sundays and holydays in a church which was built by and for Germans, and once entirely devoted to their needs…This fact shows once again that many of our Italian immigrants can be saved or regained for the faith if earnest and intelligent efforts are made in this direction.”

The Fortnightly Review was congratulating Our Lady of Sorrows on its 50^th Anniversary.  In doing so it went on to insult another group—the Jews.  Pointing out that a change in the complexion of the neighborhood “is owing to the Jewish invasion of the lower East Side, which set in about 1879 and has not yet reached its climax,” the article worried for the fate of the Pitt Street church.  “It is to be hoped that this ‘invasion’ will not ultimately convert Our Lady of Sorrows Church, once German, now practically Italian, into a Jewish synagogue.”

Twenty-five years later, when Our Lady of Sorrows celebrated its 75^th Anniversary, The Fortnightly Review would have been pleased to see that the services were still Roman Catholic, and still being conducted in German and Italian.  The church built to accommodate 1,200 people, however, had less than half that many.  The New York Times was diplomatic in reporting “Many descendants of the original German families and the early Italians were present yesterday among the 500 persons who thronged the little church.”

The neighborhood continued to change and Our Lady of Sorrows adapted to meet the needs of its new congregants.  By March 10, 1966 when the basement of the church was used for a meeting of the Committee of Welfare Families of the Lower East Side, English and Spanish had replaced German and Italian.

Today, other than an ill-advised coat of paint over the brick, Henry Englebert’s church is little changed since it opened in 1868.  Now known also as Nuestra Senora de los Dolores, it offers masses in Spanish as well as English.  And it continues to serve the newcomers to America as it did nearly 160 years ago.

photographs by the author

Church of the Most Holy Redeemer - 173 East 3rd Street

On February 16, 1888 The Evening World remembered “When the Redemptorist Fathers first came to this country, in 1842, they were not very cordially received.”  Indeed they were not.  Anti-Catholic sentiments in New York City were deeply rooted.  In 1788 John Jay had urged the New York Legislature to prohibit Catholics from holding public office.  Now, in 1844, Bishop John Hughes stationed armed guards at Catholic churches to prevent mobs from burning them.  The feisty Irish-born priest famously warned the mayor “If a single Catholic Church were burned in New York, the city would become a second Moscow.”

The parish of the Most Holy Redeemer was founded and in 1844 the Fathers erected a school, rectory and temporary church “all in one plain frame building” on East 3^rd Street near First Avenue.  Dedicated by Coadjutor Bishop John McCloskey on April 8, 1844, the entire complex had taken just seven weeks to build.

John Hughes became New York’s first archbishop on July 19, 1850.  That same year plans were laid for a “more substantial building” for Most Holy Redeemer, as described by The Evening World.  Hughes’s determination to make New Yorkers realize that Catholics were here to stay would soon be reflected in his plans for the magnificent St. Patrick’s Cathedral north of the established city—intended to outshine any Protestant church in New York.  It may have been that same fervor which resulted in the impressive new Church of The Most Holy Redeemer.

On October 29, 1850 the New-York Daily Tribune published a seemingly disinterested report saying “We notice the parish attached to the Church of the Most Holy Redeemer (Roman Catholic) in Third-street, are breaking ground for the erection of their new church, on the lots immediately adjoining the temporary edifice in which they have hitherto worshipped, and which has long been insufficient in size for the people who worship there.  The new church is to be on a grand scale, and is to be completed in proportion as there are funds to advance it with.”

original source unknown, sketch via Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation

Construction was completed within two years and the church was dedicated on November 28, 1852.  The architect, vaguely listed as “Mr. Walsh” or simply “Walsh,” created a limestone-faced Baroque Romanesque structure of cathedral-like proportions.  The highly-ornate façade featured a soaring 250-foot high multi-level clock-and-bell tower which culminated in a hexagonal lantern supporting a globe and cross.

The Evening World described the church as “the most imposing edifice of its kind in this country” and “a magnificent monument of ecclesiastical architecture.  Its style of architecture is the Graeco-Roman or Byzantine…The interior decorations are elaborate and artistic.”  The New York Herald announced the cost of the structure at $65,600—over $2 million in 2016 dollars.

The original interior featured colorful stenciling.  lithograph by Packard and Butler, from the collection of the Favey Library, Villanova University

The parish was almost entirely composed of German immigrants.  By now the Lower East Side boasted the highest population of German-speaking residents in the world, other than Berlin and Vienna. In reporting on the first Christmas service here, the New York Herald said “a large and most respectable congregation assembled…There was a sermon, in the German language, which seemed to produce a deep effect upon the congregation.”

An impressive church building could not dispel anti-Catholic feelings, however.   The same newspaper reported on June 5, 1856 “the Catholics in this city, of the Church of the Most Holy Redeemer, had a procession on the occasion of the feast of Corpus Christi, in which young girls and maidens, all in white, were followed by ‘Captain Smith’s company of Independent Rifles,’ bearing the stars and stripes.”  The paper was offended by the inclusion of the American flag.  The article announced that the rifle company “had the audacity to carry the American flag as part of the Popish paraphernalia of the celebration.  The flag is pronounced sheer hypocrisy—a sort of thing that would be torn to pieces if unfurled while the Host were passing in Rome.”

Discrimination did not come only from the English-speaking population.  Catholics were a minority among the German community—only about one in four was Catholic.  In January 1873 a new German play was staged in the Stadt Theatre on the Bowery.  Called Secrets of New-York, or the Jesuits in America, The New York Times reported it “was written in opposition to the Jesuits and their influence in this country, and is said to abound in attacks upon the order and its principles.”

The three main characters were Father Josephus, Father Hyacinthe, and Father Ignatus.  The Times noted “the object of the play was to hold these characters up to the ridicule and reprobation of the audience as representative of the Jesuits in America.”

The Catholic fathers were, understandably, upset at what they termed “the obnoxious play.”  The priests of the Church of the Most Holy Redeemer were especially offended, since among its staff were Fathers Josephus, Hyacynth and Ignatius.  The Redemptorist Fathers went to Captain Ward of the 10^th Precinct and “protested most emphatically” against the play.  Not only was it “intended to cast ridicule upon them and their faith,” said The Times, but it was being staged on Sunday.

At 8:00 on the night of January 19 3,000 people filed into the Stadt Theatre.  The Times said it was “a very respectable audience” with a great number of the patrons being ladies.  After an opening concert, the audience was informed that the police had “interfered” with the performance and there would be no play.

The magnificent interiors of the Church of the Most Holy Redeemer stood in distinct contrast to the miserable surrounding tenements.  The riches inside—gold chalices, jewel-encrusted statues and such—were a great temptation to indigent neighbors.  One German, Peter Scholl, pleaded guilty to burglarizing the church on June 21, 1882.  He was sentenced to two and a half years in prison.  But Scholl was only one of the first such criminals.

Of the many funerals held in the church, the most heart-wrenching was the group funeral for 14 little girls on February 22, 1883.  On February 14 a small fire had broken out in a closet in the school of the Most Holy Redeemer.  Although it was small and did little damage, panic among the children resulted in a stampede and the collapse of a stairway banister.  The 14 school girls were crushed to death.

The church was filled to capacity and “outside thousands of people clamored for admittance,” according to The New York Times.  Not only was 3^rd Street thronged, but so were Avenue A and First Avenue.  The newspaper detailed the grief each of the 14 families saying, for instance, “Mrs. Uster, the poor widow whose pretty little daughter Mamie was one of the victims, was so overcome as the body of her child was carried into the church that her outbursts of grief became violent and she bewailed her loss in pitiful sobs and cries.”

The interior of the church was draped in mourning.  “The heavy pillars under the dome of the vaulted roof were twined with white and black crepe, and long festoons of the same mourning emblem were looped from the dome to the pillars of the sanctuary.  Upon the altar…20 tall candles burned dimly in high, brazen candlesticks.”

The destitute conditions of some congregants were evidenced in the burials of some of the girls.  One impoverished widow, the mother of 10-year old Barbara Bechel, realized when the hearse reached the “poor ground” that her daughter was to be buried in an unmarked grave.  The potters’ field did not allow tombstones.

“She then made a most piteous and tearful protest, and begged the man in charge of the grave-diggers to make them take up the coffin and let her take it home until she could find some other place to bury her child.”  Mrs. Bechel was told she would have to pay $5 to bring the coffin up and store it in a cemetery vault for two days. 

The burial continued, but just before the common grave was fully covered with soil, “the little brother of the dead child brought from the carriage a tiny marble slab, which he begged the grave-digger, with tears streaming down his face, to bury next to his sister’s coffin.”   The girl would not have a headstone, but she would not be totally forgotten.  The little stone read “Barbara Bechel, aged 10.  Died Feb. 20.”  The Times said it “had been purchased by the poor mother, at the cost of what privation none can tell, as a headstone for her little daughter, whose grave after all remains unmarked.”

In 1884 the Rev. Father Andrew Ziegler was appointed pastor.  Among his first priorities was the redecorating of the 32-year old sanctuary.  The Evening World reported in 1888 “the interior of the fine building has been entirely refitted and redecorated at an expense of $10,000.  This included the paving of the sanctuary and the aisles with white marble and a new communion table, also of marble, handsomely carved.”

The church received a interesting gift in 1892 when the bones of Saint Datian were donated from a private chapel in Italy.  A wax effigy of the saint is still visible in a side chapel.

On October 27, 1897 Fritz Meyer, who was known on the street as Dutch Pete, sneaked into the church and hid until everyone had left and the doors were locked.  He had brought with him a 32-calibre revolver and a 15-inch long steel drill.  Was he did not suspect was that the church had installed a modern electric burglar alarm.  When he started breaking into the poor boxes, the alarm rang in the rectory.

Policemen Frederick Smith and Conkling responded.  They searched the dark church with Rev. Aloysius Englehardt from the rectory.  When Officer Smith trapped Meyer in a hallway, the crook fired twice.  “One bullet struck Smith in the mouth, passing directly through its roof to the base of the brain.  He fell with a crash,” reported The Times.

Meyer escaped by smashing through a window, but he was captured by civilians in the street.  When the crowd outside heard that the popular “Schmitty de cop” was dead, the call of “Hang him!” spread.  “There was an angry, inarticulate howl and a surge in the crowd, and in another moment the four officers were fighting for their prisoner’s life.”

Although Frederick Smith was Lutheran, Rev. Englehardt had administered the sacrament of extreme unction on the dying policeman.  In a rare exception to religious protocol, his funeral was held in the Church of the Most Holy Redeemer on October 30.  Nathan Franko’s orchestra played throughout the service.

On November 18, 1897 Fritz Meyer was sentenced to death for the murder.

Within months of his coronation, Pope Pius X ordered that Gregorian chant would replace the classical and baroque music long favored in Catholic churches. When the Church of the Most Holy Redeemer celebrated its 60^th anniversary mass on April 24, 1904, The Sun reported that it was “the first complete Gregorian programme to be used in this country since the Pope issued his encyclical on the reform of music.”

On June 4, 1908 an unemployed and homeless French ironworker, Rene Baci, hid in the church, just as Fritz Meyer had done 11 years earlier.  And like Meyer, he was unaware of the burglar alarms.  But this crook was not interested in the change in the poor boxes.  He was focused on what The Evening World described as “a crown, encrusted with diamonds, and the bejeweled clothes on a statue of the Saviour, valued in all at $31,000.”

Police Captain Shaw and two detectives Gilligan and Tucker, had a hard time subduing Baci.  The newspaper said they “had to battle for their lives before they overcame a giant robber.”  When he was questioned at the police station, Baci had a simple explanation for the attempted crime. 

“I am out of work and have no money.  That church has more money than I have, and I need it.”

A side chapel sits below an exquisite stained glass dome.

Baci’s predicament was common in the neighborhood.  Just three months later, on the afternoon of September 5, 1908, another homeless man, Richard O’Brien, entered the church before 1:00.  He entered a pew near the rear where he knelt in prayer.  When he seated himself again, he took a small bottle from his pocket and drank from it.  Minutes later he collapsed.

The worshipers nearby assumed he had committed suicide.  Father Piedel carried the unconscious man to an anteroom and police were summoned.  A doctor from Bellevue Hospital arrived as well.  The bottle was found to contain harmless vanilla extract and O’Brien was diagnosed as suffering from starvation.

In 1913 architect Paul Schultz was commissioned to modernize the church.  Much of the ornamentation was stripped from the façade and the tower was drastically reduced in size.  Completed in September that year, the renovations cost $50,000.   The Catholic Church in the United States of America noted that the congregation was estimated at about 2,000, “and shows a decrease.”

Throughout the 20^th century the demographics of the neighborhood changed drastically.  The German population moved north to Yorkville in the first decades and by the second half of the century Spanish-speaking Catholics formed the majority of the congregation.  Today the church is popularly known as Iglesia Santisimo Rendentor-Natividad.

photographs by the author

The Hamilton Fish Park Gymnasium & Baths

In the last decade of the 19^th century New York City focused attention on playgrounds and parks; especially in tenement neighborhoods where immigrant children played in the streets.  In 1897 Columbus Park, the last work of Calvert Vaux, opened in the notorious Mulberry Bend slum.  A year earlier Carrere & Hastings had converted the St. James Burial Ground in Greenwich Village to an Italian-style park.  They would soon be working on the Eleventh Ward Park, quickly known as the Hamilton Fish Park, on the Lower East Side.

The site, bounded by Houston, Pitt, Stanton and Sheriff Streets, sat amidst the tenement district which The Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide called “one of the most thickly populated parts of the East Side.”

Begun under the administration of Mayor Lafayette Strong, the Hamilton Fish Park project immediately faced problems.  The greatest obstacle was the greed of the property owners.  The Record & Guide reported “Persons whose land is sought by the city demand usually what would be called an exorbitant price.  The opinion in general that the city has plenty of money, and can, therefore, afford to ‘pay, pay, pay.”  In the end the city paid over $3 million for the tenements and old buildings.

On March 31, 1900 the Record & Guide published a map showing the tenements purchased and their prices.  Willett Street was closed to become part of the park.  (copyright expired)

The opening of the park was scheduled for Friday, May 25, 1900.  But it was postponed by the seriously-disappointed Park Department President, George C. Clausen.   High on his list of problems was Carrere & Hastings’ Gymnasium and Bath building.

The City Beautiful Movement promised that residents of poorer neighborhoods would be uplifted to civil behavior when surrounded by monumental architecture.   The architects created a miniature version of the Petit Palais in Paris, designed by Charles Girault in 1897 and completed in 1900.  But while their Hamilton Fish Park Gymnasium and Bath was beautiful, indeed; its function had been overlooked in creating a striking edifice.

Carrere & Hastings based their design on the Petit Palais, seen here in a 1900 postcard.

Clausen was indignant.  “In an effort to combine park features with playground features the designers of this park seem to have secured neither a park nor a playground.”  He pointed to the Carrere & Hastings building with contempt.  “Most of the $183,000 has been put in an extensive building, whose architectural features are not at all consistent with the character of the park or its surroundings…The gymnasium feature is not complete, and is without apparatus.”

The public baths, mandated by New York State, were “ridiculously inadequate.”  In a neighborhood where many indigent residents did not have hot water, the Hamilton Fish Park baths was miserably short-sighted, according to Clausen.   He pointed out there was “room for only three persons to bathe at a time on each side, that for the men and that for the women, yet, with nickel-plated plumbing and costly tilework, enough money has been spent to fit up in a highly sanitary and useful manner much more bathing room.”

The Brickbuilder, August 1900 (copyright expired)

As the rescheduled opening day neared, the New-York Tribune was more diplomatic in its description.  The newspaper admitted on May 27, 1900 that “Work was begun on the park in April, 1899, and, although the appropriation has been exhausted, the park is not completed.  The grounds have been laid out in attractive lawns and playgrounds, but no funds were left to erect the gymnastic apparatus, which was to be a feature of the park.”

With no money for apparatus, the interior of the gymnasium was coldly barren upon the park's opening.  New-York Tribune, May 27, 1900 (copyright expired)

Nevertheless, the Tribune gave its overall approval to the architects.  “On the Pitt-st. front, extending 160 feet, is the handsome park building, with baths, gymnasiums and running tracks on either side of the main entrance.  The north side is for women, and the south side for men.  The grounds and the buildings were designed by Carrere & Hastings, who succeeded in creating a park in which the old rules governing such places have been avoided.”

The “old rules” were the “keep off the grass” signs that were normally found in public parks.  The Record & Guide pointed out “It has been the custom to devote altogether too much space to the purely ornamental features of our small parks, whose primary purpose should be to furnish recreation and exercise for the youth of their several vicinages.  There are in the older of these parks too many flowers that the children may not pluck and too much grass to keep off of.”  The journal reported that Carrere & Hastings “have done the best thing possible for the swarms of children, who are even now hanging around the ugly board enclosure eagerly awaiting the moment when they can revel within the precincts.”

The New-York Tribune was forced to admit, however, that “It has also been said, in criticism of the park, that the bath facilities are inadequate.”

The park was opened at 8:00 on the evening of June 1, 1900.  Park officials chose a nighttime event to make evident use of the floodlights which The New York Times said “lit up the green inclosure like bright sunshine.”

In reporting on the opening and the 10,000 children who swarmed into the park, The Times floridly contrasted it to its bleak surroundings.  “Hamilton Fish Park, the three and a half acres of playground…hewn out of the darkened mass of brick and mortar in the very heart of the east side, was thrown open to the public.”

“There were children of every age, size, nationality, and lung power down to the smallest mite of humanity in a brothers’ or sister’s arms, who stared in breathless amazement at the lights and flags, and who shrank in terror when the band with a crash struck up ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’”

Those street-wise children were unaccustomed to grand civic events and officials struggled to get through the ceremony.  Boys sneaked below the grandstand where judges, senators and assemblymen were seated.  “These gentlemen were compelled to stand well back from the edge of the platform to avoid having their trousers legs pulled and their toes struck by mischievous boys below,” wrote The Times.

The bass horn player was forced twice to empty his instrument of paper balls and other articles.  And while Secretary Holly addressed the group, he kept “right on with his speech, while enthusiastic urchins stuck pins in his legs and pulled his trousers cordially.”

Not only had the appropriation been exhausted in constructing the park; but city officials neglected to provide for maintenance.  A year later, on October 16, 1901 Charles B. Stover of the Outdoor and Recreation League applied to the Board of Estimate for additional funds to maintain the gymnasium and bath building.  “He said that the buildings cost $80,000 and that there has been no money appropriated for maintenance,” reported The New York Times.

Mayor Robert Anderson Van Wyck was little moved.  “That is what destroyed Rome—furnishing amusements for the populace.  Now, if we have got to have vaudeville shows for the people of New York it will not be long before New York will be destroyed.”

As beautiful as the Carrere & Hastings Beaux Arts structure was, there was no arguing that it was nearly useless for its intended functions.  In 1903 the entire park was redesigned.  On October 3 that year it reopened with gymnastics and games to celebrate.  The New-York Tribune reported that the park “has been re-sodded, trees have been planted, new asphalt paths have been laid and its entire eastern half has been regarded and resurfaced.”

The too-small gymnasium and bath building was less fortunate--it was closed.  Exactly one year later the city considered a renovation to make the building useful.  On October 17, 1904 The Times reported that the Committee on Buildings had been instructed to inspect “the gymnasium building in Hamilton Fish Park to determine [its] availability for school purposes.”

The school proposal never came to pass and in September the following year the gymnasium building was briefly opened as the scene of a unique inauguration.  Some creative-thinking parks official realized that maintaining the park would be easier if the neighborhood youth were involved.   A political campaign was kicked off whereby boys ran for office in Playground City.  It ended in an election on August 15.

On the afternoon of September 1 600 “boy citizens’ crushed into the gymnasium building to see 16-year old Nathan Kase sworn in as Mayor.  B. F. Kelley, Supervisor of Playgrounds administered the oath “Do you solemnly swear to administer the laws of Playground City to the best of your abilities?”

Other offices filled that afternoon were Commissioner of Police (park “policemen” were given badges to indicate their authority), Commissioner of Park Cleaning and President of the Council, among others.  Newly-elected Mayor Kase said “My aim will always be to make our park a model among playgrounds.”  The new Commissioner of Park Cleaning, Samuel Ehrmann, was more specific and pragmatic.  “I hope I may have influence enough to stop the throwing of fruit skins on the walks.”

After sitting vacant for years, the gymnasium and bath building was reopened on March 4, 1911 for the city’s first ever municipal-sponsored dance.  John Merven Carrere had died just three days earlier and before the event started Parks Commissioner Stover remembered the architect.

“Thousands passed through the Public Library as he lay in state and saw the building which will doubtless be his noblest monument.  But we have our monument to him here.  Carrere & Hastings designed this gymnasium, and it is a pity that it has been unused for seven years.  Now we intend to put these two gymnasiums—one for the women and one for the men—to their full use, and with their running tracks in the galleries all ready for practice and the installation of a little apparatus they will be of real service to all who live in this neighborhood.”

Before the dance there were athletic exhibitions in the refurbished space—wrestling and boxing matches and a display of gymnastics.  The New York Times reported on the affair the next morning.  “So to the music of a piano, a violin, a cornet, and a drum the couples indulged in the waltz and two-step with as much zest as the rather limited floor space permitted.  The men seemed to outnumber the girls, but the seemed to have a thoroughly social time.”

The gymnasium building was once against an oasis in the tenement neighborhood.  On February 17, 1912 the Record & Guide noted the need for recreational buildings.  “The strongest evidence of the usefulness of such quarters may now be seen in Hamilton Fish Park, where on winter evenings room cannot be found to accommodate not only the large number of individuals, but the considerable number of independent social and athletic organizations in that neighborhood.”

Carrere & Hastings handsome, if initially short-sighted, park palace continued to serve the low-income community throughout the 20^th century.  In 1990 the sole remnant of the architects’ 1898 park design was converted to a neighborhood community center, including classrooms and meeting rooms.   The building was included in the $14 million restoration of the park by John Ciardullo Associates in 1992.

photographs by the author