The 1885 112 First Avenue

 

photograph by Ted Leather

In the late 1840s, the neighborhood around Tompkins Square had filled with refined mansions.  But drastic change was on the near horizon.  The post-Civil War years saw thousands of immigrants--first German and then Eastern European--flooding into the district.  Private residences were replaced with tenement buildings to accommodate the exploding population. 

In 1885, developer Bernhard Wertheimer completed a five-story store and tenement building at 112 First Avenue.  Faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone, its neo-Grec-style design originally featured bracketed, molded sills and hefty, earred lintels embellished with incised decoration.  The ambitious cast metal cornice announced the date of construction in the fascia.  Its triangular pediment contained a sunburst, a frequent motif of the current Queen Anne style.

photograph by Ted Leather (cropped)

The store was leased to Emanuel Berger for his retail and wholesale cigar and tobacco operation.  He had founded his company in 1866 on Second Avenue.  The 1891 History and Commerce of New York said, "At the First Avenue premises an efficient staff of cigar makers is employed, and the proprietor gives his personal attention to its affairs in all departments."

While living here in 1888, Francisco Bona, went to the grocery store of Christian G. Thomas at the corner of Second Avenue and 7th Street.  He purchased five eggs and handed Thomas a $5 bill (equal to about $165 in 2025).  Thomas recognized the bill as a fake, and on July 19, 1888 The Evening World reported that "Francisco Bona, alias Frank Avona" had been arrested for counterfeiting.  "The scheme turned out badly and Francisco was soon before Commissioner Shields, who sent him to Ludlow Street Jail."

In November 1903, two half-sisters, Rosalie Feigelson and Frida Hanover, 22 and 18 years old respectively, arrived in New York City on the steamship La Touraine from Bremen.  The Evening World said, "Their dress was handsome and they seemed to have money."  The young women, who hoped to make a living in America as photographers, took an apartment at 112 First Avenue.

Although reportedly "proficient" in their craft, they struggled to find work.  "Gradually their money ran out," said The Evening World.  Eventually, in January 1904, Frida was forced to pawn their large camera.  "The money was used at once to pay debts," said the article."  She then took a job doing embroidery at $4 a week.  On February 2, The Evening World reported, "Her disappointment was great on Saturday when she received $1.50.  She and her sister could not exist on this."

Mary Levy, who ran the tenement with her husband, offered to help, but the sisters declined.  "That isn't independence," said Rosalie.  On the evening of February 1, they wrote a letter in Russian to the United States Government that explained they had been failures in this country.  The article said, "The girls, after writing the letter, turned on the gas and lay down to die in each other's arms."

Mary Levy upset their plans by detecting the odor of gas.  Officer Frank Muller carried the girls to the open air where they partially revived before being taken to Bellevue Hospital.  Their plight caught the attention of Mrs. Gichner, of the Baroness Clara De Hirsch Home on East 63rd Street.  She appeared in the Yorkville Police Court on February 3 (attempting suicide was a jailable offense) and told the magistrate that "she would give the young women a home until they could find suitable employment."

Another resident faced a judge that year.  John Mason and his friend, Richard Herlihy, who lived at 1,212 First Avenue, went to Central Park on May 29, 1904.  At around 72nd Street, they noticed a robin's nest in one of the trees.  Mason attempted to climb the tree, but it "was not strong enough to bear his weight, and broke, throwing Mason and the nest to the ground."

A passerby, Fred Foss, witnessed the incident and reported it to a policeman.  He "found Herlihy and Mason handling the robins," said The New York Times.  Magistrate Crane fined each man $5 (about $175 today).  The article said, "Mason wept in court, and the Magistrate delivered a lecture to him on the rights of the beasts and birds who are the city's wards when they make their homes in the precincts of the public parks."

The sills and lintels were intact in 1941.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

By 1916, the ground floor store was home to Harry Levy's floor covering shop, which offered "carpets, rugs, and linoleums."  In 1988, the Miracle Grill opened in the space.  The southwestern cuisine was the creation of "brat-pack chef Bobby Flay," who was 23 years old at the time, according to New York Magazine on October 10, 1988.   The restaurant would remain into the 1990s.

In the early 2000s, fledgling writer Cat Marnell moved into the building.  Born in 1982, she attended The New School where she studied nonfiction writing.  In her 2017 autobiography, How to Murder Your Life, she described her "alcove studio" here, saying, 

The creaky, dark, small building was above a strange Polish restaurant and a porny video shop; there was also a McDonald's and a combination Dunkin' Donuts/Baskin Robbins on the block.

Marnell soon realized she was not alone--there was a rodent infestation.  Unable to leave ("I'd just moved in; I'd paid a broker"), she resolved to bring nothing edible into the apartment.  "My fear of mice was more powerful than my eating disorder," she wrote.

Marnell became an established journalist and commentator, writing columns for periodicals like Vice, Glamour and Self.  Her autobiography became a New York Times bestseller.

photograph by Ted Leather

The attempt to modernize the building by shaving the brownstone detailing disfigured the 1885 design.  Happily, the bold cornice survives.

many thanks to reader Ted Leather for requesting this post

Carrère & Hastings's Masterful 1911 New York Public Library -- 476 Fifth Avenue

 

photograph by Vallue

A one-sentence article in The New York Times on March 21, 1895 reported that the bill in the Assembly "consolidating the Lenox, Tilden, and Astor Libraries, in New-York City, was passed."  The merger would would create a library of 350,000 items.

Two years later, on August 2, 1897, the trustees published, "Terms of Competition for the Building to be Erected for The New York Public Library."  The lengthy and detailed pamphlet noted, "the building is to stand on the site of the present reservoir, at the east end of Bryant Park."  It said, "The building is to be built for $1,700,000," excluding the furniture, bookstacks, lighting, and such, and stressed, "It is essential that this amount shall not be exceeded."  

Of the eighty-eight plans that were submitted, three architects were selected to refine their designs.  The competing firms selected a three-man jury of architects to select the winning design.  On November 13, 1897, the Record & Guide reported, "The jury of awards in the final competition has selected the plans submitted by Carrere & Hastings...for the projected building of the New York Public Library."  A month later, on December 18, the journal described the commission as "a personal triumph of the first magnitude for the successful architects."

Carrère & Hastings's winning design.  Real Estate Record & Guide, December 18, 1897 (copyright expired)

Before work could begin, there was the matter of the massive granite Croton Reservoir to deal with.  Its demolition was a herculean feat that began in 1897 and continued for three years.  As the colossal walls were dismantled, the granite was salvaged for other projects.  In his July 1, 1898 report, library president John Bigelow mentioned, "the materials composing the reservoir or some part thereof [will be used in] the erection and construction of the new building."  (Granite blocks used for the foundation of the new edifice can be seen in lower levels of the current structure today.)

Finally, in 1900, work on the foundations of the new building began.  The Record & Guide predicted that the city, "is assured of a dignified and notable public building of a very much higher standard than anything municipal effort has yet given to us."  The article said, "The style of the architecture is Renaissance; it is based upon classical principals, but modern in feeling."  While the style is described as Beaux Arts today, at the time, Carrère called it a blend of French and Italian Renaissance styles.  The result was a dignified, monumental presence, enhanced by the block-wide terrace and sweeping staircase.

The exterior plans included sculptural elements.  On either side of the triple-arched entrance would be tiered fountains.  Atop each, within an arched alcove, marble statues of Truth and Beauty, executed by Frederick MacMonnies, would be placed.  Guarding the stairs to the terrace would be two regal lion figures by Edward Clark Potter. 

On November 10, 1902, the cornerstone was laid.  Five years after the first shovel broke ground, on October 1, 1905, The New York Times addressed slow pace of construction.  "Perhaps it is as well that great public buildings of this kind, intended to remain as monuments of an age for all times, should be erected with the upmost care and deliberation."  John M. Carrère, was more direct, explaining the "glacial rate of progress" in The New York Times on June 10, 1906: municipal red tape.  If there were proposed changes, he said, they had to be approved by the Library trustees and four city departments.  The process could take months.  (At the time, said The Times, the cost--originally capped at $1.7 million--had risen to $3 million.

A nagging detail was the three inscriptions to be inscribed on the plaques between Paul Wayland's allegorical sculptures above the main entrance cornice.  A squabble arose between the Mayor's office and the trustees about, "what inscriptions shall appear above the Fifth avenue entrance to the new Public Library Building," according to the New-York Tribune on April 8, 1906.  It was one more thing to annoy John M. Carrère, who snapped, "You must understand that this scheme of inscription on the front of the building was designed and fully worked out seven years ago...Something has got to go in those panels and something has got to go in the frieze."

On January 23, 1916, the New-York Tribune published the models of Paul Wayland's allegorical sculptures installed above the Fifth Avenue entrance cornice.  (copyright expired)

In the meantime, the construction costs grew.  On May 2, 1910, The New York Times began an article saying, "New York's $10,000,000 Public Library at Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street is really growing to its completion, and ought to be ready for use early next year, if not sooner.  But so many delays have already hindered the growth of the building that it is hazarding to offer any definite forecast."

A cross-section allowed readers to see the several floors beneath the street level for the book stacks.  Scientific American, May 27, 1911 (copyright expired)

Sadly, the many delays resulted in John Merven Carrère's never seeing his masterpiece completed.  The architect died in an automobile accident on March 1, 1911.  Immediately prior to his funeral at Trinity Chapel on March 3, his body, "will lie in state, in the New York Public Library, at Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street, of which building he was one of the designers," as reported by The New York Times.

Carrère's casket sat in the marble Rotunda prior to his funeral.  Construction magazine, April 1911 (copyright expired)

The space today.  photograph by Carlos Delgado

Two months later, on May 23, 1911, President William Howard Taft traveled from Washington to participate in the dedication.  Perhaps because of the President's presence, the ceremony was held in the third floor boardroom and only 500 invited persons were admitted.  Taft opened his remarks saying, "This day crowns a work of National importance."

Among the invited guests that day was Taylor St. Paul, whose most lasting impression was a grammatical error he found in an inscription in the entrance hall: "Upon the diffusion of education among the people rest the preservation and perpetuation of our institutions."  He wrote to The New York Times on May 27, 1911, to point out the correct word would be "rests."  He ended his letter saying, "Possibly W. J. Lampton wrote it.  I enjoyed the library."  An unnamed trustee replied succinctly to the editor of The Times two days later, "The author of the inscription in the rotunda of the Public Library, which Mr. Taylor St. Paul criticises...was Daniel Webster."

Carrère & Hastings had created a world-class masterpiece, the largest marble building in the country.  In its June 1911 issue, Construction said the New York Public Library, "without question is one of the most remarkable examples in the United States of the typical American aspiration in architecture."  James A. Edgerton, writing in The Daily Tribune of Marysville, Missouri on June 19, 1911 called it, "one of the most beautiful edifices in America."  Edgerton gave a back-handed slap to New York City, saying, "In a city architecturally hideous...the New York Public Library building shines like an oasis in a desert or a temple in a wilderness."

In this early postcard view, none of the sculptural elements, including the lions, had been installed.

The interiors of the Dorset marble structure were as palatial as the exterior.  Visitors entered a marble-lined grand entrance hall, or rotunda.  In the 1897 "Terms of Competition," the trustees said, "ample opportunity will exist for architectural and decorative effect; but it is desired that the Reading Rooms at least should be plainly treated."  Like the budget, that caveat went out the window.  The Main Reading Room, known as the Rose Reading Room today, was reportedly the largest reading room in the world.  It was divided into two spaces by a wooden screen.  The room rose to a magnificent, coffered ceiling with paintings of cloud-filled skies.

The Main Reading Room (today the Rose Reading Room) in 1911.  Construction magazine, April 1911 (copyright expired)

...And today.  photograph by Max Touhey from the collection of the New York Public Library

Other spaces included additional, smaller reading rooms (like the Periodical Reading Room), the Map Division, the Exhibition Room, and the Bible Room--each as sumptuously outfitted as the last.

A portion of the Map Division ceiling.  photograph by Bestbudbrian

Three "important exhibitions" were immediately staged in the new building.  On June 1, 1911, The New York Times reported that the crush of people who crowded in just to see the building made getting to the exhibitions difficult.  The article said, "it is estimated that a quarter of a million persons inspected the building in the first week."

The Trustees' Room (top) and the Exhibition Room.  Construction magazine, April 1911 (copyright expired)

Interestingly, after Thomas Hastings's death in October 1929, it was discovered that he had never been satisfied with the facade of the New York Public Library building.  He left a substantial bequest to the library, explained by The New York Times on November 7, 1929.  "He had drawn up plans for alterations in the facade and expressed the hope in his will that the $100,000 would be used for this purpose."  The plans never went forward.

The Periodical Reading Room as it appeared in 1911.  Construction magazine, April 1911 (copyright expired)

...and today.  photograph by Bestbuddybrian.

The second half of the 20th century did not treat the library building kindly.  During World War II, the panes of the 15 arched windows of the Main Reading Room were painted black; in 1950, the rear of the main hall was partitioned off to create a bursar's office; and the main exhibition room was converted to an accounting office.  According to the Press & Sun-Bulletin of Binghamton, New York, decades of grime eventually obliterated the ceiling paintings in the Main Reading Room.  Rita Reif, writing in The New York Times reported, "Over time, entire tiers of bulbs in the chandeliers short-circuited and lighting fixtures on the book stands and reference shelves burned out, never to be repaired or replaced."  As "garish yellow chairs multiplied" in the space, she said, "the room became dowdy."

In December 1981, the D. S. and R. H. Gottesman Foundation provided $1.25 million for the restoration of the Main Reading Room.  Designed by Davis Brody and Cavaglieri, it reopened the following year.  (It received a second, $12 million restoration in 2014.)  The Periodical Room was restored in 1983 and the Exhibition Hall the following year.

photograph by C. S. Imming.

In designating the New York Public Library building an individual New York City landmark on January 11, 1967, the Landmarks Preservation Commission called it, "a masterpiece of the Beaux-Arts style of architecture" and "a magnificent civic monument."

The John Addoms House - 158 Henry Street

 

Beneath the red casing around the entrance, the fluted stone columns hopefully survive.

Around 1843, John Addoms moved his family into the newly built house at 158 Henry Street.  While the 26-foot-wide, three-story residence was similar to the numerous Greek Revival homes erecting throughout the city, certain details of 158 Henry Street announced that its owner was wealthy.  The double-doored entrance was flanked with engaged, fluted columns that upheld a three-part entablature and cornice.

Addoms and his wife, the former Mary Agnes Clark, were relative newlyweds, having married in 1837.  Living with them were Catherine "Katy" Embury Bininger.  The relationship between the couple and Catherine is unclear, but it was doubtful she was a mere boarder.  She was the widow of the well-known grocer and property owner Abraham Bininger, whom she married around 1761.  She had been instrumental in establishing what The New York Times later called, "the great house" of A. M. Bininger & Co.  (The newspaper recalled that early in the business, Katy Bininger hired an teenaged boy to peddle her "cookies, cakes and tea rusks" from a basket.  "The name of the peddler was John Jacob Astor, who was then of eighteen or twenty years of age, and had not long arrived in this country.")

The fascinating Catherine Embury Bininger died at the age of 92 on July 11, 1848.  Her funeral was held in the parlor two days later.

John Addoms died in August 1850.  Mary Agnes, who was 31 years old at time of the John's death, soon left 158 Henry Street.  At an auction on April 10, 1851, the household goods and furniture were sold.  Everything from the impressive items--like the parlor and dining room suites, "large pier glasses," and candelabras--to the mundane, like crockery, glassware, and oil cloths, was sold.

Reverend Daniel C. Van Norman (sometimes written as Vannorman) next occupied the house.  The erudite educator was the principal of the Rutger's Female Institute on Fifth Avenue.  At a time when education for most females ended with the fundamentals of writing, basic math, and such, the institute offered courses that were equivalent to those available to young men.  The Phelps' Strangers and Citizens' Guide to New York City said,

It has a fine library, selected with great care and excellent philosophical apparatus for illustrating the subjects of astronomy, chemistry, and other branches of science.  Its course of instruction embraces history, general philosophy, mathematics, and belles letters, by which young ladies are thoroughly prepared for the pursuit of general knowledge, for the duties of teachers, and for that moral and intellectual power so necessary to be possessed by the mothers of our republic.

Reverend Van Norman remained here through 1854, when the Henry Street house was purchased by Peter Crosby Barnum and his second wife, the former Sarah Ann Baldwin.  The couple had married in 1846 and had two children, Joshua Willets, born in 1847, and Kate Vail, born in 1850.

Peter Crosby Barnum (original source unknown)

Barnum was born in 1815, the eldest son of Dr. Stephen C. Barnum.  In 1851, Peter joined his brother's clothing firm, Horton & Barnum, established two years earlier.  Barnum's massive fortune was reflected in the family's country house in East Meadow, New York, which "covered 2700 hundred acres," described by the Brewster Standard, and held "a sumptuous home."  (The newspaper, undoubtedly, meant 2,700 acres.)

Like Van Norton's, the Barnums' residency would be relatively short.  By 1867, they sold 158 Henry Street to Edmund J. Kelly and his wife, Mary E.  The exclusive residential neighborhood that the Addoms family had enjoyed was quickly changing, as waves of immigrants flooded into the Lower East Side.  Edmund J. Kelly was the proprietor of two saloons, one on 25 New Bowery and the other at 399 Pearl Street.  He and Mary had at least one child, Mary C.

Mary E. Kelly was apparently a self-sufficient woman.  After Edmund's death in 1869, she took over the Pearl Street saloon.  (It appears she sold the other business.)  She augmented her finances by leasing part of her home.  On April 14, 1874, an advertisement in the New York Herald offered, 

The Upper or Lower part of that beautiful brown stone House in that nice block, No. 158 Henry street between Rutgers and Jefferson streets, with all improvements, to a nice family; I will make the rent to suit.

The advertisement was answered by German-born William Hochhausen, who was in the "electric instruments" business on William Street.  The family was with the two Marys at least through 1877.

While her mother ran a saloon, Mary C. Kelly went into a more respectable female profession, a teacher.  By 1881, she was teaching music in several public schools.  Specialized instructors like music and art teachers were not affiliated with a specific school, but moved from one to another.  Because of that, Mary did not have a set salary, but was paid at $1.50 per hour in 1881.

Mary E. Kelly sold 158 Henry Street in April 1885 for $13,250 (about $433,000 in 2025).  It changed hands several times before Simon Scharlin purchased the house around 1893.  Born in Jerusalem in 1849, at some point Scharlin had anglicized his name Sabsai to Simon.  He and his wife, the former Sarah Liebe Silverson, had three sons, Nimon, Jacob and Sidney, and a daughter Rebecca.

Simon Scharlin established his snuff and tobacco business on Division Street in 1876.  He was president of the Jewish Synagogue on Pike Street and, according to The Journal on June 1, 1896, he was "said to be worth a million dollars."

Jacob Scharlin, who was deaf, was educated in a specialized school for the hearing impaired.  The Journal said, "Notwithstanding his affliction, Jacob has been regarded on the East Side as a very good catch, and many a schatchen kept the favor of the young man as a valuable asset to be realized on when Jacob should desire a wife."  (A schatchen is a marriage broker or matchmaker.)

In February 1896, Jacob met Annie Berlinger, who had been a school mate years earlier.  An orphan, she lived with her aunt and uncle.  The Journal described her as, "very beautiful, and her friends call her 'the Rose,' because of her complexion."  The newspaper said, "After the revival of their acquaintance Jacob sent a deaf mute friend named Hanneman, of No. 61 Delancey street, to her as a schatchen and a marriage was arranged."

On February 8, 1896, "the engagement was celebrated, and the big parlors at Papa Scharlin's were filled with guests to wish the young couple happiness and participate in the engagement feast."  The article mentioned, "The splendor of the surroundings was a new sensation for the prospective bride."  As part of the ceremony, Simon, "took a diamond ring from his finger, gave it to Jacob, who placed it upon the finger of his intended and the engagement was acknowledged."  The wedding was set for two weeks later, but was postponed for Passover.

Annie was given a room in the Scharlin house.  Her uncle, Isaac Blumenthal, told a reporter, "They bought her clothes--fine silk!"  But then, according to Blumenthal, everything fell apart.  On June 1, 1896, The Journal quoted him:

One day Annie was helping in the housework with her ring on--the ring he gave her that cost $125, and [Jacob] said: "Why do you work in that ring?  You will lose the stone."  She is a child.  She gave it to him, and then he told his mother that he had the ring back, and to put her out.

What was apparently a misunderstanding ended the engagement.  Annie was sent back to his uncle's home.  Blumenthal said, "Annie got a letter from him, saying that he wanted nothing more to do with her and she fainted."  Through her guardian, "Miss Berlinger sued Jacob for $50,000 for breach of promise," reported The Journal.  (The damages to Annie Berlinger's broken heart would translate to about $1.87 million today.)

At just 16 years old in 1897, Sidney was already a partner in his father's firm, now named Simon Scharlin & Son.  The family's legal problems had increased that year when on March 5 the New York Herald headlined an article, "Twenty-Seven Were Poisoned."  The article begun, 

The alleged adulteration of hundreds of pounds of snuff, which it is said caused at least twenty-seven cases of chronic lead poisoning, was the real cause of the indictment and arrest yesterday of Simon and Simon [sic] H. Scharlin, of the firm of S. Scharlin & Son...on a technical charge of petty larceny.

The Scharlins pleaded non-guilty and their attorney, Abraham Levy, insisted "that his clients were not persons who would steal two cents, or $2,000,000 either."  

Decades later, when Berenice Abbott took this photograph on January 26, 1938, the S. Scharlin & Son shop still occupied at1 113 Division Street.  image from the collection of the New York Public Library

The Scharlins were cleared of the charges.  In the meantime, however, Anna Berlinger was awarded $1,950 in her breach of promise suit (just under $74,000 today).  Despite Simon Scharlin's vast fortune, it appears that Anna would never see any of that award.  On June 20, 1899, The New York Times reported that Jacob Scharlin had "filed a petition in bankruptcy to get rid of a judgment...for breach of promise of marriage."  The article mentioned, "He has no assets."

The family's trouble turned to celebration on June 1, 1898 when Rebecca was married to Dr. Moses Duckman in Vienna Hall on East 58th Street.  Her brother, Nimon, was the groom's best man.  

Nimon was taken to the Mount Sinai Hospital on February 3, 1900, "suffering from kidney trouble," according to the New-York Tribune.  The 27-year-old died within hours and he was buried in Bay Side Cemetery on Long Island the following day.  

Four nights later, Sarah had a vivid dream that Nimon was alive.  The dream was so powerful, that she could not rest.  The New-York Tribune reported on February 10 that Nimon's body had been disinterred.  "She told [officials] yesterday about the dream, that constant thinking about it had made her nervous and that she would not be contented until she gazed upon the body again."  When she saw that the body had not moved since the burial, she reconciled to his death.

Simon and Sarah Scharlin sold 158 Henry Street in June 1915.  It became home to Congregation Shearith Israel in 1920.  Four years later, the congregation Agudat Achim Anshei Drohitchin, which organized in 1899, moved from 101 Monroe Street to the former Scharlin house.  Renovations completed in 1925 resulted in a dining room and kitchen in the basement, the shul's meeting room on the former parlor level, and the rabbi's residence on the second and third floors.  

In 1941, little had outwardly changed from a private residence to a synagogue.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

After the shul operated here for decades, 158 Henry Street was sold in August 2009.  Now home to the World Buddhist Center, the lintels and sill brackets of the windows have been removed and a stucco-like material applied to the facade.  A bright red casing around the entrance somewhat echoes a shrine gateway.  Jeff Wilson's The Buddhist Guide to New York notes, "Despite its grandiose name, this is a fairly typical Chinatown temple...Members sit on pews before the Amitabha Buddha statue for chanting and prayers."

photographs by the photograph

J. B. Snook's 1910 Terry & Trench Building - 135-141 Madison Avenue

Louis Steckler was president of the Labaren Realty Holding Co. in the early years of the 20th century.  In 1910, as the Madison Avenue area of Murray Hill was transforming from brownstone mansions to commercial buildings, he negotiated the lease of the three residences at 137 to 141 Madison Avenue, and three others around the corner at 23 to 27 East 31st Street.  Wealthy attorney Henry Grafton Chapman and his wife, the former Frances Perkins, who lived in the corner house, however, would not budge.

Defeated, Steckler forged on.  On December 24, 1910, the Record and Guide reported that the Labaren Realty Holding Co. was erecting a 12-story, "marble and brick store and loft building" around the corner mansion.  The L-shaped structure, was designed by J. B. Snook Sons, would cost the developer $250,000 to construct--just over $8.25 million in 2025 terms.

The architects' overall Arts & Crafts design was blended with Beaux Arts elements, most notably at the two-story top section where dripping festoons and lions' heads appeared below the copper, antefix-lined cornice.  J. B. Snook Sons gave horizontality to the otherwise unadorned midsection by grouping the windows into threes, each trio connected by a visible stone lintel.  The three-story stone base featured double-height segmental arches that embraced vast show windows.

The building was erected by general contractors Terry and Trench, known for its steel and iron construction of railroad bridges and the New York City elevated railroad structures.  The firm translated that structural process to the skeleton construction of this skyscraper.  In appreciation, Steckler christened his new building the Terry & Trench Building.

An advertisement titled "Superb New Loft Building" in February 1912 showed the surviving Chapman mansion on the corner.  New-York Daily Tribune February 18, 1912 (copyright expired)

As construction progressed, future tenants signed leases.  On February 2, 1911, The New York Times reported, "Louis Steckler has leased from the plans for a term of six years to one tenant the sixth, seventh, and eighth floors."  At the same time, he had also leased four other floors.

The "handsome store on the ground floor of [the] newly completed modern loft and office building," as described by Dry Goods Guide in October 1911, was leased to the Henry W. Boettger Silk Finishing Co.  The article mentioned, "Its location is in the heart of the uptown silk district."  Born in Altoma, Germany, Boettger came to America in 1866.  Silk magazine called him "the oldest silk finisher in the United States" in its May 1912 issue.

Just months after moving into the Terry & Trench Building, Henry W. Boettger Silk Finishing Co. merged with the Zurich Silk Finishing Co. and Charavay & Bodvin.  Silk magazine called them, "three of the most important silk finishing plants in the industry."  The merger resulted in The Silk Finishing Company of America with Boettger as president.  "The principal office of the company has been established at 137 Madison avenue," said the article.

The upper floors filled, mostly, with apparel and silk firms.  One tenant definitely not involved with the industry was the salesroom of Peek & Hills Company, the largest furniture distributor in the country.

American women's fashions had always been based on Paris trends.  Each year designers or executives from New York apparel firms traveled to Europe to gage the current vogue.  Such was the case with George C. Heimerdinger, head of George C. Heimerdinger & Co., maker of gowns and dresses; and Max Schwartz, whose firm made cloaks and suits.

This "evening gown of metal brocade" was among George C. Heimerdinger & Co.'s fall line in 1914.

The New York Times, June 14, 1914 (copyright expired)

Despite the growing conflict in Europe both men continued to make their annual trips to Paris.  On December 6, 1914, The New York Times reported on Heimerdinger's visit.  He said, in part, "Everywhere there were seen women in mourning, but, while this naturally gave the French dressmakers little incentive to bring out gay things, most houses that showed models for the trade were offering attractive merchandise."

Despite the German Embassy's warnings in American newspapers not to travel on British liners, on May 1, 1915, Max Schartz boarded the RMS Lusitania for his annual trip.  This year he would not return home.  He and the other 1,196 passengers and crew members perished when a German U-boat torpedoed the Lusitania off the coast of Ireland.

In the meantime, Henry W. Boettger had died from a heart attack on January 20, 1913.  The Silk Finishing Company of America continued in the building at least through 1917.

Three days before Henry W. Boettger's death, Henry Grafton Chapman died of pneumonia in his venerable brownstone mansion at 135 Madison Avenue.  In 1918, George Backer Holding Corporation acquired the corner and announced the intention of erecting a "16-story loft and office" structure to cost $1.1 million.  Instead, he created an edifice the design of which almost seamlessly blended with the 1910 Terry & Trench Building.

Only the cleaner marble and the corner roof deck in this 1918 photograph by Irving Underhill discloses that the corner building was not built with the surrounding structure.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

Although it was separate from the earlier structure, 135 Madison Avenue was also marketed as the Terry & Trench Building.  Any confusion that resulted was rectified in 1928 when the two buildings were connected inside.

The Terry & Trench Building continued to house apparel and silk firms for years.  Among the tenants in the 1920s were Louis Mayers Co., maker of petticoats; the Duplan Silk Corporation; The B. W. Company, children's apparel; and the J. Hensey Company, dressmaker.

The New York Times, July 11, 1922 (copyright expired)

Although apparel manufacturers like the Wonder-Bra Company leased space here in the 1940s, the Garment District above 34th Street drew the industry away by mid-century.  Tenants like the Stephen Rug Mills, Inc. occupied the building in the 1950s.

In 2010, furniture dealer M2L moved into a 11,500-square-foot space.  At some point the Madison Avenue entrance was starkly remodeled, and in 2023 the marble base was regrettably painted black.  Otherwise, the Terry & Trench Building is little changed since a matching structure replaced a stubborn brownstone mansion in 1919.

photographs by the author

Charles T. Mott's 1887 258 West 73rd Street

 

William J. Merritt headed the real estate development firm William J. Merritt & Co. and often acted as his own architect.  But for the ambitious row of 19 four-story-and-basement houses he planned on the south side of West 73rd Street between Broadway and West End Avenue in 1887, he hired architect Charles T. Mott.

Completed in 1887, the row was a romantic take on French Renaissance architecture.  Nestled among the streetscape of turrets and battlements was 258 West 73rd.  A broad stoop with solid wing walls originally led to the brownstone-faced parlor level.  The third and fourth floors, clad in rough faced brick, were dominated by a charming angled bay, the balcony of which was crowned with a stone railing with pierced quatrefoil openings.  The fourth floor took the form of a tiled mansard, fronted by two dormers with elaborate French Renaissance crockets (still intact at the house's former twin at 250 West 73rd Street).

For some reason, the house sat vacant for two years.  On November 7, 1889, an advertisement in the New York World noted it was the only house for sale on West 73rd Street.  It was described as an "elegant 4-story house, 20 x 100; dining-room extension, new, never occupied; opposite Mayor Grant's."  (Hugh Grant was the city's youngest mayor, elected at the age of 30 in 1888.)

Robert A. Hollister purchased the house for $40,000 (about $1.37 million in 2025), apparently as an investment.  Living here in 1891 was the family of R. J. McCabe.

Early in March that year, Mrs. McCabe hired a 40-year-old English woman, Kate Mary Trigg, as a chambermaid and waitress.  (A waitress in 19th century homes served in the parlor and dining room.)  The 40-year-old had been living at the Young Woman's Christian Home on East 15th Street.  

Kate Mary Trigg often complained of severe headaches.  Just two weeks after taking the job, on the morning of March 27, she "packed up her effects and left the house, telling her employer that she was going away for good," as reported by The Evening World.  That night, reported the newspaper, a "well-dressed woman...attempted to commit suicide by throwing herself into a small creek in the Salt Meadows near Newark Bay Bridge."  Luckily, Trigg was seen by three employees of the Jersey Central Railroad who rescued her.  The article said, "Her mind is believed to be affected."

The following year, D. Laurence Shaw and his wife, the former Agnes Moen, purchased the house.  Shaw was a wholesale dealer in spices and baking powders at 62 College Place (today's West Broadway).  He also owned a "summer hotel" in Lakeville, Connecticut.  He and Agnes had a newborn son, D. Laurence, Jr. when they moved in.  

Anges immediately began staffing the house and on March 4, 1892 advertised, "Waitress Wanted--Swede or German preferred; must be competent.  Call, before 1 P.M. at 258 West 73d St."

Tragically, a month later, on April 18, the couple's baby boy died.  His funeral was held in the house on April 21.

The couple's problems continued when D. Laurence Shaw was forced to declare bankruptcy on July 20, 1894.  The New York Times noted, "Papers were also filed yesterday against Mr. Shaw to foreclose a mortgage of $5,000 on his house, 258 West Seventy-third Street."  It was auctioned on December 24 that year.  Foreclosure sales usually resulted in deals, but property on the West 73rd Street block was in high demand.  The New York Times remarked, "the bidding was quite brisk and the purchaser had to pay $35,000 for the house, very near its real value."

The buyer was W. L. McCorkel.  Living with him and his wife was their adult son, Henry H., who was a commissioner of deeds.  Their residency would be short-lived.  McCorkle sold the house to William C. Adams on October 21, 1897.  Adams was the president of the S. F. Adams Realty Co. and of W. C. Adams & Co.

Just before 6:00 on the morning of December 20, 1898, fire broke out in the house of Charles H. Raymond next door at 260 West 73rd Street.  The blaze swept through the house, trapping the occupants, several of whom jumped from upper floor windows.  One of them was Mrs. Raymond's sister, visiting from Ohio for Christmas.  She plunged to the sidewalk, fatally fracturing her skull.  The body of Harriet Fee, the cook, was found on the third floor.  Four people, including the Raymonds, were taken to the hospital seriously injured.  

The fire had been discovered in the pantry by a chambermaid named Mularkey.  She notified Harriet Fee who rushed upstairs to awaken the others in the house, while Mularkey ran into the street to get help.  "The maid ran up and down the street, shrieking, and several neighbors, hearing her, ran out," reported the New York Evening Post.  As the drama played out next door, the hysterical woman, suffering from shock, was taken into the Adams house.

The Adams family remained here until 1907, when they sold 258 West 73rd Street to Julia A. and Albert L. House.  Albert was a stockbroker.  The couple hired architect Frank Hausle in December that year to install a new bathroom.

The couple's affluence was reflected in a notice in The New York Times on August 22, 1909.  "Lost--A lady's Tiffany watch, diamond and pearl studded; owner's name inside; please return to Mrs. A. L. House, 258 West 73d St.; suitable reward."

Living with the Houses in 1910 was Isabelle Evesson.  She and her sister, Estelle, were partners in the Bassford Estate Corporation, formed to recover compensation for their grandfather's massive real estate holdings.  On April 25, 1907, the Montana Standard said, "these two Evesson sisters, year in and year out, are making their fight for untold millions."

Isabelle Evesson, The Players Blue Book, 1901 (copyright expired)

While they litigated the estate, the sisters performed on stage.  Isabelle had appeared in the original cast of the 1887 Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde with Richard Mansfield; and among her other Broadway appearances were Papa's Wife in 1899-1900 and Anna Karenina in 1905.

The Houses had an esteemed houseguest in 1910.  On January 15, The Mining World commented, "Lazard Cahn of Colorado Springs, Colo., dealer in mineral specimens, will be at 258 West 73d street, New York city, for the next few months."  A well-known chemist and geologist, Cahn first identified the mineral Cahnite, named for him.  

Lazard Cahn in his laboratory around 1930.  from the collection of the Pikes peak Library District

Shortly before noon on May 8, 1914, Albert L. House stepped off a southbound Fourth Avenue streetcar at 19th Street.  The New York Times reported, "as Mr. House got off the car he stepped in front of the oncoming truck and was knocked down and kicked by the horses."  House was taken to the New York Hospital where he died later that night.

Julia House sold 258 West 73rd Street around 1918.  It was converted to bachelor apartments (meaning they had no kitchens) the following year.  The stoop was removed and the entrance lowered to below grade.  The two ornate dormers were replaced by a tall shed dormer.  The Department of Buildings noted, "not more than 15 rooms to be used for sleeping purposes."  An advertisement for one apartment described, "Handsomely furnished, two rooms and bath apartment; all conveniences; direct private telephone; summer porch."

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Among the tenants in 1923 was David Arnof.  That year he became involved in a mystery surrounding his brother, Jacob, who had gone to South America early in 1920 with a friend, Harry Wolfe.  Jacob had obtained a job as a clerk with the Buenos Aires office of the United States Shipping Board.  Letters from Jacob came regularly until the end of 1920, then they stopped for about three months.  On November 26, 1923, The Oshkosh Northwestern said, "When letters began arriving again, members of the family said the handwriting had changed entirely and no mention was made of intimate family affairs."

Early in 1921, Jacob drew a draft on his father's account for $500 (about $8,500 today).  In 1922, he drew another $250, and on August 6, 1923 he cabled his father for $25,000, saying "the family would be disgraced if it was not sent."  In addition to his desperate demands for money, the family's suspicions were heightened by "strange phrases" in Jacob's letters, his failure to mention his five siblings, and by photographs that only slightly resembled him.

Jacob Arnof was accused of defrauding his employer of 400,000 pesos in November 1923.  Shortly afterward, he committed suicide.  But a note found with the body was signed by Harry Wolfe.  It said he "wanted to clear the name of his friend."  According to the note, Jacob Arnof had drowned on November 7, 1920 while the two friends were canoeing.  Wolfe took over his identity for three years, using his passport and possessions.  During that time he embezzled from the United States Shipping Board, and deceived Arnof's family into supplying him with cash.

On December 27, 1923, the Republic City News reported, "Whether the body of the suicide is that of Arnof or of 'Harry Wolfe' will not be definitely established until David Arnof of New York...arrives in Buenos Aires."  In South America, David Arnof discovered the extent to which Wolfe had gone to carry out the deception.  The two friends resembled one another, but Jacob Arnof had a scar on his face.  On January 19, 1924, the Adelaide, Australia newspaper the Saturday Journal revealed that Wolfe "burned on his cheek with acid a scar similar to Arnof's scar."

A bit beleaguered today, there are nine rental units within the building.  In addition to the 1919 remodeling, an obtrusive drain pipe that snakes down the facade and protruding window air conditioners disguise the fact that it was once the home of wealthy families.

photographs by the author