Charles E. Birge's 1908 290 Fifth Avenue

 

Before the outbreak of the Civil War, millionaires had ventured north of 23rd Street along Fifth Avenue, erecting opulent mansions.  Three blocks south of the John Jacob Astor III and William Backhouse Astor residences, which filled the western blockfront between 33rd and 34th Streets, was the home of John J. Osborne, at 290 Fifth Avenue.

There was upheaval within the Osborne's domestic staff in the winter of 1865.  On December 10, the French butler, George Sausen, had the cook arrested for grand larceny.  The New York Times reported that Matilda Cassidy "stole three bottles of wine, valued at $16, and $35 in cash...The wine was the property of her employer, while the money belonged to two of the female servants in the house."  The wine was found in Matilda's room and the cash "in her pocket."

The days of smart broughams at the curb and butlers at the door were over by the turn of the century.  Mansions were razed or converted for business.  In March 1906, Irving E. Raymond leased the converted Osborne mansion.  The Real Estate Record & Guide reported that he would build a 12-story business building "in connection with Nos. 286 and 288 5th av., which are owned by Mr. Raymond."

Irving E. Raymond was president of A. A. Vantine & Co., dealers in Oriental rugs and carpets.  Perhaps because Isabel C. Nash refused to sell 290 Fifth Avenue in 1908--instead renewing Raymond's lease (this time for 21 years)--Raymond rethought the plan to build a large office building on a site that was only two-thirds owned by him.

Instead, in March his architect, Charles E. Birge, filed plans for a six-story "brick and stone office building" at 290 Fifth Avenue that would cost Raymond $40,000 to erect--about $1.37 million in 2024 terms.

The completed building was as much glass as it was masonry.  Five stories of metal infill allowed for vast tripart windows that flooded the interiors with natural light.  A terra cotta frame of ornate tiles embraced the upper floors.  Below the deeply overhanging cornice was an elaborate frieze of terra cotta.

Among the initial tenants were Paul Block, Inc. and Ph. Weinberg's Sons & Co.  Paul Block had started his advertising agency in 1900 and incorporated in 1908.  It was the exclusive national advertising representative for a number of newspapers and magazines.  By the time the firm moved into 290 Fifth Avenue, it had branch offices in Boston and Chicago.

Ph. Weinberg's Son & Co., "makers of fine furs," was reflective of the high-end shops along Fifth Avenue.  The store offered a wide variety of items, from mink neckpieces with "muff to match," to Alaska seal coats priced at $800 in 1909 (a staggering $27,300 in today's money).  An advertisement in The New York Times on November 21, 1909 listed three types of "automobile" coats: a ladies' coat, "coats for chauffeurs," and natural raccoon coats.

In 1912, Ph. Weinberg's Sons & Co. was succeeded by Grace Co.  It continued to do business from the address, and assured customers, "the old policy of high quality and a new policy of low prices will prevail."

In the meantime, the upper floors filled with apparel firms.  In 1914, Freeman Brothers hatters leased the third floor and in 1916 L. Lyman & Co., makers of dresses and headwear for children, and Alexander A. Bernstein, an importer and manufacturer of furs, took space.  

Alexander A. Bernstein, who was born in Plock, Poland in February 1880, was an interesting figure.  According to Distinguished Jews of America in 1917, he was "as a youngster an efficient cantor, and when he came here he was probably the first boy to officiate at services with the assistance of a choir."

Alexander A. Bernstein.  Distinguished Jews of America, 1917 (copyright expired)

One congregant of Bernstein's synagogue on Henry Street, "took a fancy to him, introduced him to some gentlemen connected with the fur industry, and he drifted into the line."  It signaled the beginning of Bernstein's business career and the end of his singing.

In 1916, the same year that L. Lyman & Co. and Alexander A. Bernstein moved in, Samuel Schwartz Sons & Co., "pictures," signed a lease on the ground floor store.  The gallery staged exhibitions over the coming years, like the showing of more than 60 etchings by Frank Brangwyn that opened in March 1918.

The 1920s saw the building still filled with apparel firms, most of them makers of dresses, coats and suits.  From the mid-1930s into the 1940s the Tenth Assembly District Republican Organization had its offices in the building.  Reminiscent of Irving E. Raymond, the Persian Mercantile Co. and the Anglo Persian Mercantile Co., importers of Iranian rugs, operated from the address at the time.

The cornice survived in 1941.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

By the third quarter of the century, the Garment District had moved past 34th Street and this section of Fifth Avenue was filled with garish shops and often transitory businesses.  Among the tenants of 290 Fifth Avenue in 1988 was The Skin & Hair Rejuvenation Center, which offered Minoxidil/Retin-A treatments that promised to "regrow fuller and more-youthful new hair."

At some point the cornice was removed and the storefront remodeled.  But, overall, Charles E. Birge's 1908 design survives surprisingly intact.

photographs by the author

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The Lawrence Spillane Saloon - 206 East 38th Street

 

Around 1866, Lawrence Spillane purchased the new, four-story house-and-store at 206 East 38th Street between Second and Third Avenues.  In the rear was a second four-story house for rental income.  Faced in red brick, the Italianate design of the primary structure included molded lintels and a handsome bracketed cornice with a paneled fascia.

Spillane opened his "liquor saloon" in the ground floor.  (Liquor saloons were different from beer saloons and porterhouses, in that they served hard spirits.)  Living with Spillane's family on the upper floors in 1868 were blue collar, Irish-born boarders Michael Doyle, a mason; stonecutter Thomas Fagan; and John Slack, a laborer.  Occupying the rear house were Bridget McCarroll, who did washing; and Thomas Scannon, a coachman.

Expectedly, the turnover in boarders was frequent.  Timothy Kirby lived here in 1869.  On July 14 that year, the New York Herald reported that he, "was severely injured in the foot yesterday while repairing the railroad track, corner Fourth avenue and Ninth street, by a passing car."

By 1870, Spillane ran two other saloons--one on Spring Street and the other on Thompson Street.  

Ellen Roberts, a widow, lived three houses away at 212 East 38th Street in 1873.  That year she became the target of an investigation prompted by neighborhood women like Ellen Jarvis, who lived here.  At the time, families who took in orphans from the Commissioners of Charities and Corrections were paid--similar to today's foster care programs.  Ellen Roberts, however, used the system as her sole source of income, making her what was known as a "baby-farmer."  

On September 24, 1873, The New York Times headlined an article, "Shocking Case of Baby-Farming," and reported that Ellen Roberts had been arrested "on a charge of wholesale infanticide."  Ellen Jarvis was among the women who asserted that Roberts was "a professional baby-farmer; that infants were exposed to the weather, starved, and otherwise maltreated till they died."

The article said, "According to...one witness, thirty children were systematically allowed to drift out of existence between Jan. 1 and June 4."  Also arrested was the undertaker named Boylston whose business was across the street.  He was accused "of keeping the dead bodies of the victims in his stable, and irregularly disposing of them."

Ellen Jarvis was called to testify.  The New-York Tribune reported, "She stated that on several occasions she gave her children into the care of Mrs. Roberts, but invariably got them back in a filthy and starved state.  Mrs. Roberts was in the habit of getting drunk almost daily, and on one occasion she lay down on top of two children who would have been suffocated but for two women who interfered."

In 1884, Lawrence Spillane closed his saloon here.  He still operated one at James and Water Streets.  The store space became a barbershop, the proprietor of which, according to employee Michael Dietrich later, paid $22 rent.  The monthly figure would translate to $700 in 2024.  Three years later, after Dietrich bought the shop from his boss, his rent was increased to $25.

Lawrence Spillane sold the "two four-story tenements," as described by the New York Herald, in October 1888.  The newspaper explained the property had been "the investment of a saloon keeper at James and Water streets who is anxious to retire from business."  E. N. Peck paid Spillane the equivalent of about $443,000 today.

Peck's tenants continued to be working class immigrants.  They occasionally placed advertisements in local newspapers as they looked for employment.  One, printed on February 4, 1890, read, "Chambermaid or waitress--By a reliable young woman; not afraid of work; willing and obliging.  208 East 38th-st; ring McCarthy's bell."  An ad in The New York Times on October 29, 1891, read, "Useful Man--Young Swede, lately landed, handy and willing to do any kind of work.  Address Carlson, 206 East 38th St."

"Carlson" may have been the same resident who was looking for work six months later.  On April 23, 1892, an ad in The World announced, "Bartender--A young Swede, 22, wishes a position as assistant bartender; speaks English fluently; has got some experience.  Address Bartender, 206 East 38th st."

In the winter of 1893, 20-year-old Catherine (known as Katie) Reischmann stopped in Michael Dietrich's barbershop and asked for work.  The young woman had married Otto Krabiel a year earlier, on October 24, 1892, but left him a month later and began using her maiden name again.  Dietrich told Katie that his sister had kept house for him but she had recently married.  He offered her a scandalous proposition.  According to Katie later, "he said I should go and keep house with him and be his wife.  After he said that I immediately went to live with him as his wife.  I took up rooms and began housekeeping as such at 206 East Thirty-Eighth street."

The next year, on September 24, 1894, the couple had a child, Lena.  Now a father, Dietrich suggested that he and Katie should be married.  They went to a notary public who officially confirmed that they "agreed to live together as husband and wife."  When asked later why there was no church ceremony, Katie explained, "My husband said he did not believe in ceremony.  He said it was more publicity than anything else."

Michael Dietrich was still operating the barbershop in 1906 when he and Katie separated.  When she went to court to obtain support, he denied they had ever been married and stressed that Katie, in fact, had never divorced her first husband.  Katie and their 11-year-old daughter were left on their own.

In the meantime, resident John McKenna faced legal problems of his own.  Early in 1903, he was sued by Julia Pearsall on behalf of her daughter, Elva, for breach of promise to marry.  Julia alleged that McKenna had proposed to Elva on June 13, 1902 and that "he refused to carry out his contract to marry her."  The reason she had to be appointed guardian ad litem for her jilted daughter was because Elva was 10 years old.

In 1925, the Peck Estate sold the "four story tenement with a store" and the rear building to J. Franklin McKean.  He hired architect Alfred A. Tearle to make renovations.  There were now two apartments above the store in the front building and a shop on the ground floor of the rear structure.  (The upper floors of the back building were "not to be occupied," according to the Department of Buildings.)  The shop in the front building became home to the Franklin Metal Weatherstrip Co.

The Franklin Metal Weatherstrip Co. was in the shop in 1941.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Franklin Metal Weatherstrip Co. was founded in 1900.  An advertisement in Carpenter magazine in 1925 described the product as being "for all kinds of windows and doors" and "manufactured by us in large quantities and sold to carpenters at unusually low prices." 

The front building received a substantial make-over in 1970 when it was converted to offices above the shop.  The 19th century storefront was replaced with stone and neo-Colonial, splayed lintels were installed over the upper floor windows.

In the 1970s, the shop was home to the Keen Gallery.  A nail salon occupies the space today.  The rear building was renovated to a single family house in 1994.

photographs by the author

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Walter H. Jackson's Cornish Arms Hotel (The Broadmoor) - 315 West 23rd Street

 

Founded in 1791 "for the advice and assistance of Englishmen in distress," the Sons of St. George focused greatly on supporting British war brides following World War I.  But in 1925 it turned its attention to a construction project--an upscale hotel.

On May 24, 1925, The New York Times reported, "The American Order [of] Sons of St. George...laid the cornerstone yesterday afternoon of the new Cornish Arms Hotel, 311-323 West Twenty-third Street, the new national headquarters of the organization."  Designed by Walter H. Jackson, the article said, "The new building will be twelve stories high, of brick and concrete fireproof construction, and will cost with full equipment $1,500,000."  (That figure would translate to more than $26 million in 2024.)

The Cornish Arms Hotel opened on December 5, 1926.  In addition to its 340 guest rooms, there were a ballroom, lodge and club rooms for the Order of St. George, a lounge, and dining rooms.  There was also a foreign exchange office for international guests.  

A postcard for the "New Cornish Arms Hotel" included still-surviving rowhouses.

Jackson faced the neo-Renaissance style structure in beige brick trimmed in terra cotta.  Within the two-story concrete base were six stores.  Deep light courts behind the main elevation provided natural light and ventilation to the interior rooms.  Fireproofing was augmented by concrete floors throughout "covered with carpets," according to Buildings and Building Management on January 4, 1926.  The journal noted, "The grand ball room, banquet rooms and club room are on the 12th floor.  The floors of these rooms are laid in maple; the wainscots are marble, and walls and ceilings are ornamental plaster."

A typical floorplan (above) and the 12th floor layout (below).  Buildings and Building Management, January 4, 1926 (copyright expired)

The Cornish Arms management initiated an unusual marketing ploy.  An advertisement in the December 6, 1927 edition of The Scientific Monthly was titled, "A New Hotel Without 'Ups'!  It's Never Been Done Before!  One Price of All the Rooms!"  It said in part, "This convenient and comfortable new hotel has only one price for a single room and bath, $3.00 per day.  Double rooms for two, with bath, $4.50.  (The single room price would equal about $52.50 today.)

The meeting rooms were quickly popular for groups like the International Baseball League, which held its meetings here on the night of August 29, 1927.  (The International League is one of two Triple-A minor leagues today.)  Two days before the meetings began, The Evening Post mentioned that "the Dublin Bohemians and the I. R. T. Celtics, two newly organized Irish teams...are seeking admission to the International League."

Somewhat surprisingly, the Cornish Arms Hotel opened during Prohibition--the legislation that put thousands of hotels out of business across the country.  The Cornish Arms management was caught side-stepping the liquor ban.  On April 10, 1930 The New York Times reported that in an unprecedented move, United States Attorney Tuttle had filed a suit "to padlock the entire Cornish Arms."  Undercover agents had booked rooms in the hotel as guests and "asked bellboys and other employe[e]s to serve liquor to them."  Tuttle sought to make an example of the hotel by shutting it down.

The hotel's attorneys did not dispute that liquor had been served, but argued that the management "could not be held responsible for violations by employe[e]s."  But at trial on June 23, 1930, two agents, Ralph Navarro and John J. Dowd, testified that on December 28 they had slipped into a "beefsteak dinner" of railroad and steamship agents in the grill room.  They described pitchers of beer and "a large table where liquor was being served."

The following day, Federal Judge John C. Knox rendered his decision.  The management of the Cornish Arms Hotel no doubt breathed a deep sigh of relief when he refused to close down the hotel.  While he admitted he believed liquor had been served, he merely issued an injunction against further sale of liquor and warned the management that a violation would result in a charge of contempt of court.

Perhaps not coincidentally, a major figure in bootlegging, Vincent "Mad Dog" Coll, lived here at the time.  In 1931, he and his associates initiated a hit on a rival gangster, Joey Rao.  He was sitting on the stoop of a social club on East 107th Street when Coll and his gang drove by, riddling the scene with submachine gun and shotgun fire.  Coll missed his target, but killed a five-year-old boy on the sidewalk and wounded four other children.

Coll was tracked down, arrested, and held for trial.  His lawyer successfully planted doubt in the minds of jurors over the credibility of a witness, and Coll was acquitted.  According to Michael Lerner in his 2007 Dry Manhattan, Prohibition in New York City, "Once free, Coll returned to his luxurious apartment in the Cornish Arms Hotel in Chelsea, and immediately resumed his battles with Dutch Schultz's gang for the city's beer-running operation."  

Coll's illicit career was cut short when he entered a phone booth in the London Chemists drugstore directly across the street from the hotel on the night of February 7, 1932.  The next morning The Bristol [Virginia] News Bulletin began an article saying, "Young Vincent Coll who was poison with a pistol and most feared of the Gotham 'guns,' got his load of lead in a telephone booth at 12:45 a.m. today.  A machine gunner chopped him down cooly [sic] and deliberately in a West 23rd Street drugstore."

In October 1933, the Cornish Arms Hotel was purchased by the Knott Hotel chain in foreclosure.  The New York Times reported, "some minor alterations are planned for the hotel."  The article noted, "Although at one time it catered to transients, the Cornish Arms now has a large number of permanent guests."

The remodeled meeting room and barroom seen in this advertising postcard were likely part of the Knox Hotel upgrades.

In June 1941, two recent high school graduates from Morgantown, West Virginia arrived in New York.  One of them was Don Knotts, who was set on auditioning for the Major Bowes Amateur Hour radio show.  Daniel de Visé, in his Andy and Don, writes, "Don quickly secured a job as an elevator operator at the Cornish Arms Hotel."  When not taking guests up and down in the elevator, Knotts made money with a friend doing ventriloquism.  Daniel de Visé writes, 

A few weeks into his New York odyssey, he finally landed an audition for Camel Caravan, another talent showcase.  Don showed up with Danny and did his routine for a matronly woman.  When he was finished, she told him, "You seem like a nice boy.  Why don't you take your dummy and go home and go back to school?"

He did.  But, despite the disappointment, he eventually would become a familiar face on television and motion picture screens.

The Cornish Arms Hotel continued to be a favorite meeting spot for union groups, sports and fraternal organizations.  An interesting gathering was the "dinner meeting" held by the Legal-Forensic Committee of the Professional Photographers of America, Inc. on April 8, 1964.  The topic of discussion was the "techniques of photographing motor vehicle accidents" for police, according to The New York Times.

A major change had taken place at the time.  While the upstairs meeting rooms saw groups coming and going, the hotel itself was being operated as a senior care facility.  But by March 19, 1976 when the Senate Subcommittee on Long-Term Care for the Elderly held hearings, things had degraded.  The New York Times reported that one resident, Rebecca Jaffe, testified, 

...that residents were seldom bathed, that there were fights among alcoholics and other residents and that she was frequently harassed and threatened because she had complained of conditions there.  She also said that medicines, such as amphetamines, were distributed by the switchboard operator at the facility.

Among the residents at the time was artist Ellis Wilson.  Born in 1899 in Mayfield, Kentucky, he studied at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and became a force in the Harlem Renaissance.  He worked for the Federal Art Project from 1935 to 1940, and received a Guggenheim Fellowship in 1944.

Americans were exposed to his work when his mid-century painting Funeral Procession was the subject of "The Auction" episode of The Cosby Show in 1986.  Purchased by character Clair Huxtable, it hung over the family's fireplace for the remainder of the eight-season series.

Ellis Wilson's The Procession became well known to television audiences in the 1980s and 90s.  Aaron Douglas Collection, Amistad Research Center, Tulane University.

Ellis Wilson died on January 2, 1977.  In reporting his death, The New York Times noted, "He was 76 years old and lived at Cornish Arms Home for Adults, 315 West 23d Street."

On May 2, 1982, The New York Times reported, "the former Cornish Arms Hotel is being converted from a home for the elderly into a cooperative called the Broadmoor, with 74 open-plan apartments (fixtures included) ranging in price from $94,000 to $280,000."  

At some point, the cornice, an integral part of Walter H. Jackson's design, was removed.  Otherwise, the outward appearance of the former Cornish Arms Hotel, including the iron and glass marquee, survives.

photographs by the author

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The William S. Bancroft Grocery Store - 43 Macdougal Street

 

In 1788, decades before the building boom of the 1820s would extend the boundaries of Greenwich Village into the farms and estates that surrounded it, the Bayard family hired Theodore Goerck to map out streets and building plots on their land.  The western boundary between their estate and Richmond Hill (the house on which would become the vice-presidential mansion the following year) was called MacDougal Street.  It was named for patriot Alexander MacDougal (who at some point dropped the second L from his family's surname, MacDougall).  Fervently anti-British, he was a founder of the Sons of Liberty along with activists like Samuel Adams, Benedict Arnold, Patrick Henry and Paul Revere.  During the war, he rose to the rank of major general and succeeded Benedict Arnold in commanding West Point.

In the 1840s, a row of neat Greek Revival homes was erected in the center of the MacDougal Street block between Houston and King Streets.  Around 1846, a substantial store-and-house was completed on the northwest corner of Macdougal and King Streets.  It was likely constructed by the same builder as the houses, given their matching, scrolled bracketed cornices--a nod to the rising Italianate style.

The building, faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone, rose three stories to a squat attic level, typical of the Greek Revival style.  The residential entrance was placed around the corner.

The family of William S. Bancroft lived in the upper floors while he ran his grocery from the store.  It seems the Bancroft business was as much liquor store as grocery.  In 1851, he listed his profession as "grocer, wines, ale, cider, porter, &c."  Living with the Bancrofts that year was Spencer Heacock, who worked in the store.

In 1853, Bancroft opened a second store at the northwest corner of Houston and MacDougal Streets.  He moved his family to the new location, while Spencer Heacock took over the operation of the grocery at 43 MacDougal.  Now sharing the upper portion of the house with him were two widows, Mary Brower and Ann Pray, and a boarder named Michael Riley who did not list a profession.

William S. Bancroft owned the store here through 1857, after which time it became the Tunis & Hopper grocery.  It was run by Joseph L. Tunis and James V. Hopper, neither of whom lived upstairs.  Instead, the families of Henry Williams and Peter Vandyke, Jr. shared the upper portion.  

A block to the north was crooked little Minetta Street.  Known as Little Africa, it had been the center of Manhattan's black community since slavery was abolished in New York in 1827.  Both Williams and Vandyke were listed in directories as "(colored) waiter."

Tunis & Hopper remained in the space until 1866, when it was advertised for lease.  It became home to the H. Bock & Co. grocery store.  Henry Bock and his wife moved into the upper floors.  They took in a boarder, Henry Behning, in 1868.  He ran two piano stores, one on Bleecker Street and one on West Houston.

In September 1868, the Bocks had a baby boy, Edward William.  Sadly, he died the following year on December 16.  His funeral was held in the Bock residence two days later.

The Bocks moved to New Jersey by 1872, and put 24-year-old August Finke in charge of the H. Bock & Co. store.  He and his wife, Doretta, lived upstairs with at least one other tenant at a time.  

Things went well for the young couple.  By 1876, August took over proprietorship of the grocery.  Boarding with them that year was Finke's clerk, John M. Gaffnkin.  In 1874, daughter Matilda Finke was born and another, Lena Augusta, came two years later.  

Lena was 14 years old when she died on January 7, 1890.  As had been the case with Edward William Bock's, her funeral was held in the second floor parlor.

The grocery was briefly run by Charles Bockelmann in 1895 and '96, then by John Tewers the following year.  By then the upper floors were operated as a boarding house.  Living here that year were firefighter Thomas Lally; Antoinette Kermann, who was the widow of Nicholas Kermann; and William J. Hooper, a "packer."

Interesting, given that the neighborhood was filling with mostly Italian immigrants at the time, an advertisement for a clerk in the grocery store appeared in the New York Journal and Advertiser on January 30, 1899 that specified that the applicant speak English and French.

Among the Italian residents of 43 MacDougal Street that year was R. Boccasavia.  The out-of-work chef was looking for work, and placed two back-to-back advertisements in the New-York Tribune.  Calling himself a "first class cook (15 years chef)," one of his ads sought work as a caterer in a "furnished house, club, or respectable family."   The second ad looked for a position as chef "in hotel, restaurant, club or private family," noting that he was versed in "American, French and Italian style."

By October 1910, the commercial space at 43 MacDougal was listed as a restaurant.  (It was temporarily used as a voter registration space that November).  It was most likely more of a neighborhood social club for the local Italians.  The Clearfield, Pennsylvania newspaper Progress went so far to call it a "pool room."

The Italian community was plagued by a terroristic group called La Mano Nera, or the Black Hand, at the time.  The Italian-American group used violence, including assassinations and bombings, to extort money from well-to-do Italians.

On September 25, 1913, The Evening World reported, "Last night a bomb went off--bang!--in the territory of the Fifth street station."  Minutes before the explosion, 19-year-old Max Goldstein was approaching a barbershop on Second Avenue.  Two men stood on the stoop of the building.  As Max neared, one of them handed the other a package.  They flipped a coin, which bounced down the steps to the sidewalk.  The article said, "At the foot of the stairs, the small man lighted a match, as Max presumed, to look for the lost coin."

A few seconds after Max passed, the bomb went off.  The newspaper said, "the crowds on the corner were in a flutter.  Not so Max.  He set out instantly to trail the coin tossing pair."

Max tailed the two for eight or ten blocks, "lurking close behind, darting into doorways, keeping out of sight, never losing the scent," said The Evening World.  Finally, they ducked into the restaurant at 43 MacDougal Street.  Max sauntered in, saw that they had placed an order--meaning that they would be there for a while--then ran to the Fifth Street police station.  An enormous response followed.  

The amateur sleuth was hailed as a hero.  The Evening World, September 25, 1913 (copyright expired)

The article described the scene.  "The restaurant was surrounded.  Eighteen customers were lined up against the wall and Max was told to enter and pick out the men he had trailed."  Despite one of the bombers having removed his fake moustache and goatee (The Evening World said his lip and chin were "'gummy,' as though false whiskers had recently been glued there"), Max identified Giuseppe Donnaruna and Louis Lameri.

The story was picked up by newspapers across the country and Max Goldstein became an instantaneous hero.  On October 14, the Nebraska newspaper The Beatrice Daily Express began an article saying, "The East Side, always producing some 'eighth wonder,' now has a real boy detective.  Max Goldstein is his name, and he actually ran down and caused the arrest of two bomb throwers."

Much less admirable was Jerry Perella, who lived here in 1922.  On March 10 that year, police raided the house at 18 Charlton Street, "on suspicion of bootlegging activities," according to the New York Herald.  It resulted in a shoot-out with one detective shot and at least one wounded "booze runner" escaping.  One man and two women were arrested and 1,000 bottles of whisky transported from Canada were confiscated.

Later that night, Detective Lavendar went to St. Vincent's Hospital to interview 18-year-old Jerry Perella, who checked himself in with a bullet wound to the chest.  He said he had accidentally shot himself while deciding whether to buy the firearm.  The New-York Tribune said simply, "He was arrested."

In 1926, John J. Garibaldi, Americo B. Friscia and John F. Matteo opened the Baccus Bottle Company here.  That year Garibaldi received a patent for his "bottle-capping machine."  As it turned out, it was what was inside the bottles that was making the trio its money.  On March 4, 1931, The Sun reported that they had pleaded nolo contendere "to indictments charging conspiracy to violate the national prohibition act."

By 1977, John "Happy" Ferri operated the Citizens for a Better Village in the commercial space.  An Italian-American social club, it worked within the community.  On April 14, 1977, The Villager reported that it "runs a summer lunch program," and the following year in March the newspaper reported on its Arts and Crafts Workshop for children 6 to 12.  In 1978, Borough President Andrew Stein's office shared the ground floor space with the Citizens for a Better Village.

At around 6:10 on the night of January 31, 1986, "law enforcement officials, some with NYPD badges and others with jackets bearing FBI emblems," according to John Ferri, barged into the club without a search warrant and began wrecking the place.  He told The Villager, "the group took a sledge hammer to flower pots and glassware, broke the toilet in the bathroom and overturned tables and chairs."  After ten minutes of vandalism, the group left.

photo by Alan Raia, Newsday, February 1, 1986

The raid was one of 31 made on Italian-American social clubs that night that drew the ire of state and city groups and officials.  Commissioner Douglas H. White of the New York State Division of Human Rights said, "What happened here proves that you don't have to be black or brown to be victimized by discrimination of violence or vandalism."

Shortly after the raid, the Citizens for a Better Village moved out, the storefront was boarded up, and the upper floors vacated.  The building sat empty and neglected for two decades, eventually becoming graffiti-covered and described by neighbors as "a blight, a menace," according to Caroline H. Dworin, writing in The New York Times on October 27, 2008.  According to her article, the building, owned by brothers Abraham and Arthur Blasof, was infested by rats, and the hatch on the roof had been left open for months, allowing rain to flood the interior.  The Fire Department spray-painted yellow X's on the facade, indicating to firefighters that it was potentially dangerous to enter.

Eight years later a remarkable renovation was completed.  The façade was restored, the commercial space remodeled, and the upper floors converted to one apartment each.  In 2019, the restaurant Niche Niche opened, which remains.

photographs by the author

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McKim, Mead & White's 1885 167-173 West 83rd Street

 

In 1891, developer David H. King, Jr. hired McKim, Mead & White to design a block-wide row of houses known as the King Model Houses at 203-269 West 139th Street.  He had commissioned the firm six years earlier for a much less ambitious project--four flat buildings at 167 through 173 West 83rd Street.

Designed in an A-B-A-B configuration of mirror-image pairs, the Romanesque Revival structures sat on planar stone bases.  The proportions of the arched openings of the ground floor--the windows being slightly wider than the doors--were echoed in the openings directly above.  The second- through fourth-floor windows were recessed within shallow arches that terminated in brownstone lintels that sprung from the capitals of the three-story brick piers.  Handsome terra cotta rondels with flowers and sunbursts decorated the spandrels.

The apartments, one per floor, were intended for professional, middle-class tenants.  They included wooden wainscoting, paneled doors and plaster ceiling decorations.  King was a developer, not a landlord, and quickly sold the completed buildings.  Two of them were purchased in April 1886 for $48,000 (about $1.6 million in 2024).

Among the original residents of 167 West 83rd Street was Oliver C. Gardiner, an "index clerk of the Sinking Fund Records" within the city's Finance Department.  He earned $1,200 per year, or about $41,000 by today's terms.  Unfortunately for Gardiner, he lost his job in 1889 when Tammany Hall regained control of City Hall and purged employees.

Marie E. J. S. L. Willard moved into 171 West 83rd Street in 1891 following her divorce from James Willard.  The New-York Tribune said, "Her maiden name was Marie Von Wallisch, and she was known as 'Countess' Von Wallisch before she was married."  The newspaper described her as "a handsome, stylish and stately woman, under middle age, and of winsome ways."

Marie Willard's rent was paid by wealthy builder and contractor Richard Goodman Platt, described by the New-York Tribune as a "well-known clubman."  According to him, he "furnished the rooms luxuriously, spending about $20,000 on her account."  The relationship between the two would end in a shockingly scandalous court case two years later.  According to Marie Willard, in October 1891, "Platt promised to marry her, and induced her to hold intimate relations with him, but afterward refused to fulfil his promise of marriage."

The National Police Gazette was less than flattering in its depiction of Marie Willard in its September 9, 1893 issue.  (copyright expired)

Platt's version was, expectedly, different.  He claimed that soon after moving into 171 West 83rd Street, the "Countess" went to Paris and began writing letters asking for money.  The New-York Tribune said he claimed that, "in one of these letters she said that, had it not been for a Mr. Alexander, she would have been 'on the streets of Paris, homeless.'"  Marie returned to New York in 1893 and sued Platt for $50,000 damages for breach of promise, beginning the case that proved embarrassing to both parties.

Another case of domestic upheaval in the building involved Maria and William Dershem.  William ran a shoe store in Staten Island.  The couple moved into an apartment at 171 West 83rd Street after their marriage on June 15, 1898.  At the time of the wedding, Dershem's adult daughters were away for the summer and it is possible that Maria (who was about their age) did not realize that they would be sharing the apartment.  The newlyweds' happy home life would not last long.

A year later, on December 24, 1899, The Sun reported that Maria was suing William "for a separation on allegations of cruel treatment by him and his two daughters."  When the daughters returned, according to Maria, they took charge of the household.  Annie Dershem, she said, would tell her father that Maria was making faces at him behind his back, although Maria insisted "she had kept her face straight."  William responded by striking his wife "on several occasions."

A prominent resident of 173 West 83rd Street was Dr. Willis W. French, "a popular young physician," as described by The New York Times on March 12, 1888.  A native of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, he graduated from the New-York College of Physicians and Surgeons in 1883.  Another physician, Dr. Harry Power, lived in the building by 1891.

The family of Clarence Colburn Chapman, an insurance agent, lived at 173 West 83rd Street by 1901, when sons Worthington Frothingham and Isaac Amandre were studying at Yale University and the College of the City of New York, respectively.  Worthington would also attend the College of the City of New York, before entering the Yale's Sheffield Scientific School.

Worthington Chapman would have an interesting career.  After graduating in 1905, he took a post-graduate course in mining.  He spent two years in the West working with The Tonopah Exploration Company.  Back in New York, he became affiliated with the Columbus & Hocking Coal and Iron Co.  He listed his address here through 1910.

Joseph Nullet was the chief salesman of the Sustenance Division of the Surplus Property Division of the U.S. Army.  He lived at 167 West 83rd Street in 1920 when he devised a devious plot to cheat the Government.  On January 29, 1921, the Brooklyn Standard Union reported he had been "charged with conspiring to defraud the Government by juggling bids for 50,000 pounds of overseas tea."

Later that year, on September 8, 18-year-old Stanley Dudzig tried to burglarize 171 West 83rd Street.  The Daily News said he "was surprised to find Detective Thomas Foley at his elbow when he attempted to enter a second story window of an apartment."  The article continued, "Foley was equally surprised when Dudzig poked a pistol in his stomach and pulled the trigger."  Fortunately for Foley, the gun did not fire.  The would-be burglar faced a judge the following day.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In 1930, a store was installed on the ground floor of 167 West 83rd Street and in 1966 the apartments were divided, resulting in two per floor.  The apartments at 171 West 83rd Street had been divided in half in 1959.

The brownstone bases of all four buildings have been painted white, and the upper floors of 169 and 171 West 83rd Street have also been painted.  Overall, the restrained designs of one of America's foremost architectural firms are greatly intact.

Many thanks to Larry Mentz for suggesting this post

photographs by the author

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The Lost Clarendon Hotel - 18th Street and Fourth Av (Park Avenue So.)

 

from the collection of the New York Public Library

Similar to his Gramercy Park, Samuel Ruggles's Union Square was ringed by substantial brick residences around a fenced park with a central fountain.  The blocks of Fourth Avenue (later Park Avenue South) directly above the park were named Union Place.  In 1848, six years after completion of the park, Ruggles began construction of an elegant hotel one block to the north at the southeast corner of 18th Street and Union Place.

Completed in 1851, the Clarendon Hotel was designed in the Italianate style.  A cast iron portico sheltered the entrance within the rusticated stone base.  The hotel's six-floor center section on 18th Street rose one story above the rest of the structure.  

Ruggles leased the hotel to proprietor G. C. Putnam.  His opening announcement on August 8, 1851 stressed its residential setting (as opposed to bustling Broadway), saying it would appeal to families "who desire the comforts and quiet of a more retired situation than the other hotels of New York."  It continued in part,

The arrangements of this establishment are altogether superior to anything of the kind in this or, perhaps, any other country, being divided into suits of apartments, with bathing rooms and other water conveniences attached.  It is furnished in the most elegant and expensive manner, equal to the best private residences of the city.

The garden of the Efraim Holbrook mansion can be seen at the left.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The Clarendon Hotel catered to both transient and permanent guests.  An advertisement in 1859 noted, "The apartments, from the single room to the suite of any number desired, are provided with Bath Rooms, and all the modern conveniences.  It is conducted on the Table d'Hote system, or meals are served in rooms."

By then, Kerner & Birch had taken over the proprietorship.  Gerrit Kerner, who had been the steward of the exclusive Union Club, ran the hotel with military precision.  A permanent guest, Richard Lathers, recalled in his 1907 memoir, Reminiscences of Richard Lathers,

The table service was exceedingly well organized.  The waiters marched from the pantry in military order to place the food on the table and, after removing the covers of the dishes, marched in the same manner to deposit them on the side tables before waiting on the guests.  The dinner was served punctually at a fixed hour, and those not present at any course lost it--for the courses were brought on with as much regularity as a private dinner.

On the first floor were "a couple of neatly furnished rooms," according to Lathers, for smoking.  "After dinner, and after the theater, these smoking rooms were always filled," he said.  Lathers listed some of the well-heeled figures who haunted the smoking rooms, including Ward McAllister, Governor John T. Hoffman, Charles Clinton, former President Franklin Pierce (a full-time resident of the hotel), and General Winfield Scott Hancock.

Perhaps the first foreign dignitaries to stay at the Clarendon Hotel were Lord and Lady Ellesmere, who stayed here with their daughter in 1853 while attending the Exhibition of the Industry of all Nations in the Crystal Palace.  Quickly, according to Lathers, "the Clarendon [became] popular with travelers from all over Europe, and especially from England."

from the collection of the Library of Congress

On March 7, 1857, Lord Napier and his family arrived on his way to Washington.  He was the newly appointed British Ambassador to the United States.  High ranking figures would continue to stay here.  On one day alone--October 22, 1870--the New York Herald reported that opera star Christina Nilsson, General E. W. Serrell, and Russian Minister Count Calacazy had checked into the hotel.

Gerrit Kerner died in 1862 and his son, Charles H. Kerner took over the hotel's operation.  There was no change in the level of service and hospitality.

The Grand Duke Alexis of Russia arrived on November 28, 1871.  He was given the equivalent of today's secret service protection.  The New-York Tribune reported, "When he landed three detectives guarded him; at the serenade on Tuesday night they were near at hand; and they are now quartered at the Clarendon Hotel."  Within the Clarendon, the Grand Duke was able to relax from his many official duties.  Lathers said he "visited this headquarters of international goodfellowship for the relaxation of a cigar and a glass of the best wine in the city after the tiresome formalities of public receptions."

While staying here the Grand Duke Alexis was honored by the city with a grand ball.  Harper's Weekly, December 1871.

In 1884, New York's Great Industries said that because of its proximity to "all of the theatres, halls and clubs, the Clarendon has many recognized advantages as a place of residence for the leading prima donnas and artistes who visit the metropolis, while the nobility and gentry of the Old World here find those congenial surrounds and superior service which has made the Clarendon so justly celebrated all over Europe."  

Czech composer Antonín Leopold Dvořák, his wife and two of their children arrived in America on September 27, 1891.  In his 2022 Distant Melodies, Edward Dusinberre writes they were "met at the port of Hoboken by an enthusiastic delegation of Czech citizens and people associated with the National Conservatory before being installed in luxurious rooms at the Hotel Clarendon near Union Square."  Unfortunately, the quiet residential nature of the location that was so touted in 1851 was gone.  "The presence of a new Steinway grand piano was not enough to distract Dvořák from the unaccustomed noise of the city," writes Dusinberre.  The family was soon installed in rooms in a nearby rowhouse on East 17th Street.

To the shock of many hoteliers, when C. H. Kearny's lease was up in April 1893, he did not renew it.  In reporting that the lease was available on April 8, The New York Times mentioned, "For many years the Clarendon was without a rival as the favorite family hotel of the city.  It was always a home-like house, with spacious rooms, genteel service, and pleasant surroundings."  But now the hotel which was once feared to be too far uptown, was too far downtown.  "The construction of other fine family hotels further up town within the last few years has made the Clarendon, however, less desirable from a lessee's standpoint."

Charles L. Briggs, who had been head clerk for years, took over the lease in a valiant but hopeless endeavor to save the old hostelry.  Five years later, on October 13, 1898, The Sun reported, "To-day the solitary tenant of the building is George, the old porter, who for nearly a quarter of a century has been employed in the house."  The newspaper lamented, "In any other city than New York it would probably survive to-day with its former prosperity, the resort of just the sort of persons who frequented it in the past.  But the times change and people change with them more rapidly here, and the Clarendon...has been deserted by its patrons for the more fashionable and more modern hotels uptown."  The article reminisced, 

That seven Ministers of foreign Governments slept one night in the hotel was one old boast of its manager...The aristocracy of genius went there as well.  Adelaide Ristori stopped there on her visits to this country, and so did Brignoli, Carolotta Patti, and Etelka Gerster.  Adelaide Neilson, the actress, and Christine Nilsson, the singer, were regular guests of the hotel, and when Helen Modjeska first came from San Francisco to try her fortunes here, it was at the Clarendon that she lived.

The Clarendon Hotel survived, vacant, until 1909.  Developer Henry Corn had purchased it a year earlier and on September 15, 1909, the Record & Guide reported that the venerable structure "is to be torn down and immediately replaced with a 20-story high-class office building of the best type."  Named the Clarendon Building and designed by Maynicke & Franke, it survives.

photograph by Byron Company,  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

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