George B. Post's 1886 Livingstone - 206-208 East 9th Street

 

In 1885, seven years after he designed the magnificent Cornelius Vanderbilt II mansion at Fifth Avenue and 57th Street, George Browne Post filed plans for a much different project--a "flat" building for James Thomson at 206-208 East 9th Street, next to the diagonally-running Stuyvesant Street.  Completed in 1886, Post's Renaissance Revival design was splashed with elements of the popular Queen Anne style.  Six bays wide and five stories tall, Post trimmed the red brick facade with nearly matching terra cotta.  Molded terra cotta bands between the windows suggested capitals to the brick piers.  Each opening was crowned with an arch, its tympanum filled with ornate Renaissance decoration.  The corbel table of the complex terra cotta cornice took the form of shells.

Most striking, perhaps, is the bold entranceway.  To maintain symmetry, Post balanced the double-doored entrance with a window separated by an elaborate Renaissance Revival, terra cotta pilaster and connected it all with a large terra cotta arch filled with delicate, leafy decorations.  A Queen Anne-style scroll announces the address (the gold paint was added relatively recently).

There were ten apartments of seven rooms in the building, two per floor.  Rents ranged from $1,160 to $1,290 per month by today's conversions.  An advertisement in the New York Herald read, "The Livingstone, 206 and 208 East 9th St.--Very desirable Apartments at low rents; all improvements."  

Residents were middle- to upper-middle class.  An erudite resident, who signed her advertisement in the New-York Tribune on February 26, 1891 as "R. M.," wrote, "Educated lady has some hours disengaged, mornings or afternoons from 2 till 4; German, English, French, art, needlework, music, grown children or to a lady."

The apartments were spacious enough that some residents used them both for living and working.  An advertisement in The World on October 16, 1892 read:

Art Classes, painting, drawing, illustrating, designing, home decorations, all branches; lessons daily and evenings; eminent European teachers, Prof. and Mrs. Champney, principals Rembrandt Art School, 206 and 208 East 9th st.

Another resident who operated from his apartment was John F. Victory.  He published The Postal Record here starting around 1892, and the following year was secretary of the National Association of Letter Carriers, which listed its official address at 206 East 9th Street.  In 1893, he and his wife, the former Alice Dauphin, welcomed a son, John F. Victory, Jr.

Geo. P. Rowell & Co's American Newspaper Directory, 1893 (copyright expired)

The younger Victory joined the U. S. Patent Office as a clerk in 1908.  A friend of Wilbur and Orville Wright, when the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA) was organized in 1915, he was its first employee.  He would become its secretary in 1921 and executive secretary in 1948.  

John F. Victory, Jr. on January 1, 1922, Great Images in NASA

When NASA was organized in 1958, Victory would serve as special assistant to administrator T. Keith Glennan.

Born in Puerto Rico, Antonio Velez Alvarado moved to New York City in 1888.  He lived here in 1898 when the Spanish-American War ended and America claimed the island of Puerto Rico as a territory on October 18.  Three days later, Alvarado attempted to register to vote.  The New York Journal & Advertiser reported that he "was denied the right to do so" when the official insisted on seeing his naturalization papers.  The newspaper explained that Alvarado:

...argued that he needed neither to show nor to have naturalization papers and that it was only necessary for him to satisfy the conditions of the ballot law as to the length of residence here--at least a year in the State, four months in the county and thirty days in the election district--which conditions he could meet.

He said he became an American "last Tuesday, October 18, when the American flag was raised over the palace and other public buildings in San Juan, signifying the completed occupation of the island by this country."  Alvarado turned to Tammany Hall, pleading his case to the Law Committee.  Impressed with his argument, attorney Rollin M. Morgan escorted him downtown to Corporation Counsel Whalen.  The two attorneys consulted "history, constitutions and law books for several hours."  Then a telegram was sent to the Secretary of State at Albany.

Antonio Velez Alvardo, New York Journal & Advertiser, October 22, 1898 (copyright expired)

As he waited for an answer, Alvarado asserted to a reporter from The New York Journal & Advertiser, "If I am not a citizen of Spain, and I certainly am not, I must certainly be an American."  The newly-minted citizen won his battle.  The next day, Congressman William Sulzer told the newspaper, "Porto Ricans were made Americans by the act of war.  They can vote here next month."  The Alvarado case had established an important legal precedent.

At the time, Henry Peck and Heinrich Trautman shared an apartment.  Luckily for Trautman, the roommate arrangement saved his life.  On December 18, 1899, the New York Journal & Advertiser reported succinctly, "If Henry Peck had been five minutes late in arriving at his room, at No. 206 East Ninth street, yesterday, Heinrich Trautman would have been suffocated.  The gas had been turned on by accident."

Interestingly, 206-208 East 9th Street (the name Livingstone was dropped a few years after its opening) was racially integrated as early as the World War I years.  When Alexander Dujat was tried for bigamy on October 28, 1918, the Brooklyn Standard Union reported, "The first witness to-day was the Rev. Matthew M. Wilson, colored, of 206 East Ninth street, Manhattan."

Residents of 206-208 East 9th Street rarely prompted negative press, but that was not the case in the summer of 1924 when Albert Blumberg faced serious charges: vehicular homicide.  On August 26, the New York Telegram and Evening Mail reported that he was held, "for further examination in connection with [an] automobile killing."  He had fatally hit six-year-old Alexander Chambers.

As was the case in 1886, there are ten apartments in the building.  Its exterior appearance is remarkably intact, but without landmark protection, the continued preservation of this striking example of one of New York's most important 19th century architects is uncertain.

photographs by the author  

The Sadly Altered 1855 James F. D. Lanier Mansion - 16 West 10th Street

 

In 1854, banker and importer Clinton Gilbert, who lived at 50 Tenth Street, joined with iron merchant Henry L. Pierson to erect two speculative mansions at 52 and 54 Tenth Street (renumbered 14 and 16 in 1868).  Almost assuredly nearly identical at their completion in 1855, they exhibited a blend of styles.  Faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone, their squat, square-windowed fourth floor levels were hold-overs of the Greek Revival style, while the elliptically arched first floor openings drew from the Italianate.   Fluted Corinthian pilasters at the parlor level and arched Renaissance-style pediments at the second floor, however, anticipated the coming Renaissance Revival style.  (The elements survive in 14 West 10th Street.)

The pair of homes were among the most striking along the refined block.  At 36-feet-wide, 54 Tenth Street was more than ten feet wider than most of the others.  It was quickly purchased by James Franklin Doughty Lanier.

Born in Washington, North Carolina, on November 22, 1800, Lanier and his family moved from Madison, Indiana to New York in 1849.  He had married Mary McClure a year earlier, his first wife, Elizabeth Gardner, having died in 1846.  He and Elizabeth had eight children, and he and Mary had three more, one of whom, Katherine (known as Katie) McClure, would be born in the 10th Street mansion on January 7, 1858.

Originally an attorney, Lanier turned to banking in 1830.  He augmented his significant fortune through railroads.  He was the first president of the Pittsburgh, Fort Wayne & Chicago Railway.  When he moved his family to New York, he co-founded the banking firm of Winslow, Lanier & Co. with Richard H. Winslow.   

James F. D. Lanier, Indiana and Indianians, 1919 (copyright expired)

Lanier took his son, Charles, into the firm in 1857.  That same year, on October 7, Charles married Sarah E. Egleston and brought his bride to the West 10th Street mansion.  James Frederick Doughty Lanier III was born in 1858, two daughters, Sarah Egleston and Fannie, arrived in 1862 and 1864.  When Sarah became pregnant again in 1870, she and Charles took their expanding family to their newly-built Murray Hill mansion at 28-30 East 37th Street.

In the meantime, the Laniers' massive fortune was evidenced during the Civil War.  With the state in which he grew up teetering on the verge of bankruptcy, James F. D. Lanier loaned Indiana $1 million (around 20 times that much in 2025 terms).  In 1870, the state repaid the debt in full.

Like all wealthy New Yorkers, the Laniers withdrew from the city to fashionable resorts and country homes in the summer.  Late in the season of 1870, it appears that Lanier took 11-year-old Kate on a father-daughter side trip to Saratoga.  On August 12, the Evening Telegram reported, "Mr. J. F. D. Lanier and Miss K. Lanier, of 16 West Tenth street, are also staying at the Clarendon [hotel]."

Unscrupulous dealers mixed plaster of paris and marble dust into their horse feed, which was sold by the weight.  One of the Laniers' expensive carriage horses (The New York Times said, "The animal was worth $700," or $18,500 today) became one of the many victims.  On June 16, 1871, The Times reported that Lanier had applied to the Society of the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals "for a permit to kill one of his carriage horses."  An autopsy revealed a stone of "two and a half pounds, and as hard as granite."

Lanier retired that year "on account of ill-health," according to The New York Times.  Charles Lanier stepped into his father's former position at Winslow, Lanier & Co.  James Lanier's health problems worsened and on August 27, 1881, he died in the West 10th Street mansion.  Somewhat surprisingly, the funeral was not held in the parlor, but at the University Place Presbyterian Church.  The New York Times reported, "There was a large attendance and the congregation included many old and well-known citizens of New-York."

Following her expected year of mourning, Mary Lanier returned to social life.  On February 1, 1883, for instance, the New York Evening Telegram announced, "Mrs. J. F. D. Lanier, No. 16 West Tenth street, gives a german [sic] next Tuesday."   ("Germans" consisted of three-meter dances and included the waltz and allemande.)

Katherine married civil engineer Miles Standish in Grace Church on July 2, 1890.  The New-York Tribune noted that the groom was "a direct descendant of Miles Standish of the Plymouth Colony," and reported that the ceremony "was followed by an informal breakfast, served at the home of the bride's mother, Mrs. James F. D. Lanier."  The newlyweds moved into a nearby mansion at 27 Fifth Avenue.  

Mary received a terrifying note on May 4, 1896.  Signed "R. Wilson," it said in part, "I have just learned that an attempt is to be made at once to blow up your house with dynamite...This is what comes of starving men, without work, money or bread."  The writer closed saying, "If you want further particulars, send word to me before 2 o'clock to-morrow.  No. 127 Bowery."

Understandably, Mary Lanier was upset and frightened.  R. Wilson, who was actually Edward G. Meserve, was arrested on May 7.  The New York Press said, "Miles Standish, of No. 27 Fifth avenue, her son-in-law...will appear against him today."  In court, Standish told Magistrate Mott that although money was not explicitly expressed in the note, "It's a case of malicious annoyance."  He said, "Mrs. Lanier is an old lady, and he undoubtedly meant to extort money from her."

Meserve's attorney said that his client was merely acting out of concern for Mrs. Lanier's welfare.  Surprisingly, Magistrate Mott said that, "so far as he could see, there was nothing criminal in the letter," reported the New-York Tribune.  "After calling the man a liar, a sneak and a coward, the Magistrate discharged Meserve."

Mary McClure Lanier died of pneumonia in the mansion on June 21, 1903 at the age of 82.  In reporting her death, the New York Herald mentioned, "After her husband's death in 1881, Mrs. Lanier devoted herself to charitable work."

The following year, on January 22, The New York Times reported, "Lawyer John G. Milburn of Buffalo, in whose residence in that city President McKinley died, has purchased from Charles Lanier the four-story dwelling 16 West Tenth Street.  Mr. Milburn will occupy it upon his removal to this city in the near future."

Born in England in 1851, John George Milburn was induced to emigrate to America in 1869 by a letter from his 18-year-old sister, who lived in Batavia, New York.  He married Mary Patty Stocking in 1875.  In addition to his law firm, he was president of the 1901 Pan-American Exposition (or World's Fair) in Buffalo.  (President William McKinley was a house guest during the fair.  He was shot at the exposition on September 6 and died in at the Milburn house on September 14.)

Before they moved into the West 10th Street mansion, the Milburns made minor renovations.  On February 27, 1904, architect William Welles Bosworth filed plans for a $1,500 remodeling.  (The figure would translate to $54,500 today.)

Now in New York, Milburn joined the law firm of Carter, Rollins & Ledyard, the name of which was changed to Carter, Ledyard & Milburn.  He would represent high-powered clients like the Metropolitan Street Railway, the Standard Oil Company and the New York Stock Exchange.

New York State Men Biographic Studies, 1910 (copyright expired)

John and Mary had three sons, Devereux, born on September 19, 1881; John George Jr., born in 1882; and Ralph, who was born in 1888.   In 1899 Devereux and John entered Oxford University where Devereux first exhibited his athleticism.  He was on the university's rowing, swimming and polo teams.    

John George Milburn, Jr. married Madeleine Scatcherd on June 2, 1906.  The New York Herald reported that following their "ensuing three weeks at the seashore," they would live at "the residence of Mr. Milburn's parents."

John George Milburn, Jr. (original source unknown)

On June 22, 1913, The New York Times reported that Devereaux Milburn, the "well-known polo player," was engaged to Nancy G. Steele.  Saying that he graduated from Oxford in 1903 and Harvard in 1906, the article said, "He is perhaps best known as the star of the American polo team in England in 1909."

The John G. Milburns spent the summer of 1914 in Europe.  On July 14, the New York Herald reported that John and Mary would board the Lusitania that day and would be in Europe "until the end of September."  The article added, "With them will be Mr. and Mrs. G. Milburn, Jr., and the Misses Patty and Dorothy Milburn."  (The "misses," of course, were the daughters of George and Nancy.)

Devereaux served as a major in the field artillery in France during World War I.  In 1917, he served as an aide-de-camp for Major-General James H. McRae.

Devereaux Milburn in uniform in France in 1917.  History of Buffalo and Erie Country, 1920 (copyright expired)

On November 26, 1920, the Record & Guide reported that John G. Milburn had sold the West 10th Street mansion for $75,000 (about $1.17 million today).  The New York Times said that the purchasers were artist Thomas Bevans and his illustrator wife, Margaret (known as Marjorie).  Although The Times said they "will occupy the premises as a residence," the couple remodeled the interiors to "studio apartments."

Among their first tenant was portrait artist Leo Mielziner and his wife, the former Ella Friend McKenna.  They moved in on October 1, 1921.  Born in December 1869, one of seven children to Rabbi Dr. Moses Mielziner and Rosette Levald, he studied art in Paris.  He and Ella had two grown children, Kenneth and Jo.  (Kenneth would become an actor and MGM Story Director, and Jo Mielziner would win five Tony Awards for his stage designs.)

Leo Mielziner in 1924.  from the collection of the Library of Congress.

The Mielziners and their landlords had a rocky relationship from the beginning.  On December 30, 1921, the New York Herald began an article saying, "Two artists glared at each other in Essex Market Court yesterday.  One, the complainant, was Leo Mielziner.  The other, the defendant, was Thomas Bevens [sic].  Greenwich Village sat breathless in the courtroom."

Because Mielziner did not approve of the wording in the lease for his studio apartment, he did not sign it.  He paid Bevans the rent for October, and subsequently paid it to his lawyer while awaiting a newly worded lease.  The Mielziners held a party on December 18.  As their guests arrived, Thomas Bevans stood in the ground floor doorway directed them, "Oh, yes, he lives on the top floor, but he doesn't pay any rent," according to Mielziner.  The New-York Tribune reported that at one point during the party, Margaret Bevans, "slammed the door open and yelled, 'Pay your rent!'"

The Bevans sold the building to the Pagliacci Land Co. in March 1931.  In reporting the transaction, The New York Times mentioned that John Barry Ryan, son of the millionaire Thomas Fortune Ryan, lived next door at 18 West 10th Street.  Only five months later, on August 4, The Times reported that Pagliacci Land Co. had sold 16 West 10th Street to John Barry Ryan.  (Thomas Fortune Ryan had died in 1928, leaving one-fifth of his more than $200 million estate to John.)

Unfortunately for John Barry Ryan, he suffered what was diplomatically termed "reversals."  On November 24, 1934, The New York Times reported that the Central Hanover Bank and Trust Company had foreclosed on 16 West 10th Street.

In 1940, the once magnificent mansion was renovated to apartments, two per floor.  The 1855 exterior architectural elements were removed and a coating of stucco applied.  

Other than its substantial width, little was left as evidence of the mansion's former striking appearance.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The apartments continued to attract artists.  Living here in the 1940s were Jon Carbino, Frances Kent Lamont, and Albert Urban.  Born in 1905, Jon Carbino was known for his muscular, animated Depression Era style.  Frances Adams Kent was born in 1899 and her portrait sculptures evolved to Art Deco figures and, by the time she lived here, as modern abstractions.  

Albert Urban fled Germany during the Nazi regime.  He died here at the age of 50 in 1959, The New York Times commenting, "His work hangs in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Museum of Modern Art, the Boston Museum of Fine Arts and in the Rosenwald Collection of the National Gallery in Washington."

Around 1975, the former Lanier mansion was acquired by Modern Psychoanalytic Studies, described by the Department of Buildings as an "eleemosynary institution chartered by the University of the State of NY."  The facility converted the basement and first floors to a "professional school."  Called the Peterson House today, rather astoundingly (given the butchering of the exterior) much of the 1855 interior details remain.

many thanks to Seth Weine for prompting this post

photographs by the author

John C. Watson's "The Avenue" -- 239-253 East 5th Street

 

photograph via David Mulkins

Real estate developer Isaac Sohnger completed construction of the six-story, brick-faced apartment building at the northwest corner of Second Avenue and East 5th Street in 1910.  Designed by John C. Watson, its residential entrance opened onto East Fifth Street.  Five stores, two on the side street and three on the avenue, lined the ground floor.  Called The Avenue, the Colonial Revival design of its mid-section featured stone quoins at the corners, and splayed limestone lintels with scrolled keystones.  The exception to the latter were the wider, tripartite windows on both elevations which wore stepped lintels.  In keeping with the Colonial motif, the upper sashes of the double-hung windows contained nine panes.  The openings of the top section were separated by blank stone panels.  Atop the deeply overhanging, bracketed cornice was a handsome stone balustrade.

Among the initial residents was 30-year-old Samuel Shor, who left early each morning to work in Brooklyn.  But his profession was much different from most residents.  During rush hour on May 8, 1911, he caught the attention of Detective Evans on the Brooklyn side of the Williamsburg Bridge where throngs were attempting to board streetcars to Manhattan.  The Brooklyn Eagle explained, "The police of the bridge station have received so many complaints of pickpockets operating during the morning and evening rush hours...that there is always a detective there."

As Evans watched, Shor jostled among the crowds "in the scramble for a car, elbowing people right and left, but he never got on," said the newspaper.  After 15 cars left without Shor making "an honest attempt to board one," Evans approached him.  Samuel Shor bolted.  Someone in the crowd cried, "pickpocket!" and, according to The Brooklyn Eagle, "the 3,000 persons on the plaza forgot they were waiting for cars, and joined the chase."  Happily for Shor, Detective Evans got to him first.  

At the station house, police recognized him as a man recently arrested for loitering around a streetcar stop without attempting to board.  Shor's profession was highly profitable.  He astonished police "by displaying several bank books, in which he was credited with a total of $30,000 in deposits," said the article.  (The figure would top $1 million in 2025 terms.)

The rooftop balustrade is evident in this 1934 photograph by P. L. Sperr.  (He noted, "The building on the N.W. corner is an old apartment house called 'The Avenue.'")  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Among Shor's neighbors in the building were Rosie Fischer and her 18-year-old daughter Paula.  The teen worked as a stenographer in a Hungarian bank on Second Avenue.  She caught the eye of Alexander Baehr, described by the New York Herald as the "son of a wealthy, retired merchant of Budapest, Hungary," and noted that he had one glass eye.  He arrived in America in 1910 and he, too, worked in the bank as a stenographer.

Despite their age difference (Baehr was 30), the two became engaged and the wedding was set for autumn in 1911.  In preparation, Baehr wrote to his father for money.  The New York Herald said on September 28, 1911, "Two weeks ago an answer came, but he appeared disappointed in the check which he received."  On the evening of September 16--one week before the wedding day--Baehr visited the Fischer apartment.  Disturbingly, he told Paula of his "burning his other eye with a cigarette the previous night," and said "if he should ever become totally blind he would take his life."

Paula and Rosie walked Baehr home.  Paula later told reporters that "she and her mother tried to get him to take a less gloomier view of what they thought was a slight injury."  He left his rooming house the next morning but never arrived at the bank.  On September 28, the New York Herald said, "Since that time he has not been heard from."  All of his personal effects were still in his room.  Police were notified and a search of the hospitals was made, but no trace of him could be found.

Then, on October 7, Paula received a telegram from San Francisco.  It read, "Do you want me to come back?"  Paula responded with what was, perhaps, a rare example of Edwardian feminine independence.  "As there was no explanation of his mysterious disappearance in the despatch [sic] Miss Fisher [sic] returned a negative answer," reported the New York Herald.  Rosie added, "My daughter considered her engagement with Mr. Baehr ended when he left her without explanation...We have no desire to receive any further communication from him."

The Margolies family lived in The Avenue in 1917.  Their son, Samuel, who was 16 years old, was a member of the Junior Police Department.  On March 5, 1917, he and schoolmate Edward Hirsch were riding home from school on the subway when, according to The New York Times, Samuel watched as a man "sidled mysteriously up to Edward and whispered mysteriously into his ear and then mysteriously shuffled away."  When the man left the car, Edward told Samuel, "He told me not to ride in the subway on Tuesday, for they are going to blow it up."

That night, Samuel told his father about the incident.  His father "hustled him around to the East Fifth street station," said the newspaper, "where he repeated his story."  Before long, Edward was in the station house as well, corroborating the facts.  It sparked a massive hunt within the subway system the following day, with police "looking sharply at every person who carried a bundle."  The New York Times said the search was ended at midnight confident that any "bomb plotters" had given up their "dastardly deed," as worded by the article.

In 1921, two of the Second Avenue stores were occupied by a Lofts candy shop and Isaac Rosenthal's men's clothing shop.  Lofts would remain for decades.  Sharing the avenue side in 1941 were I. Thaller's jewelry shop and the ABC's dairy store.  Four decades later, in 1981, The Last Word, a greeting card, stationery and gift store; and the Binibon Café operated from two of the spaces.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

On July 19, 1981, Jack Henry Abbott had breakfast at the Binibon Café.  Throughout his life he had been convicted for murder and other felonious crimes and had recently been released from prison.  (Interestingly, while incarcerated in 1978 he formed a close relationship with author Norman Mailer, who was researching his The Executioner's Song.)  

Richard Adan, who was 22 years old, worked in the cafe.  That morning, Abbott asked him where the restroom was.  According to Eric Ferrara in his A Guide to Gangsters, Murderers and Weirdos of New York City's Lower East Side, "Unfortunately for Adan, the Binibon either did not have a restroom or it was under construction."  It was not the answer Abbot was looking for.  He pulled out a knife and fatally stabbed Adan multiple times.  According to Ferrara, Abbot "was spotted and caught a few weeks later while hiding out in Louisiana."

By 1985, the Prometheus Theater occupied one of the East 5th Street spaces, and in October 1987, Tri Video opened in the other.  As early as 1989, the name of that shop was changed to Finyl Vinyl.  Writing in The New York Times on March 29, 1991, Eric Asimov quoted Finyl Vinyl's owner Rob Cohen saying, "Vinyl's in my blood," noting, "And vinyl's about all you will find in his store."

The commercial spaces have been home to a variety of restaurants and shops throughout the succeeding decades.  Through it all, other than the loss of the rooftop balustrade, the building retains its 1910 appearance, including the handsome entranceway and (rather astoundingly) most of the nine-paned sashes.

many thanks to historian Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post.

The John R. Stuyvesant Stable - 231 East 9th Street

 

John Reade Stuyvesant was born on June 10, 1798 to Nicholas William and Catherine Livingston Reade Stuyvesant.  He and his wife, the former Catherine Ackerley, maintained a country home in Hyde Park, New York.  He inherited Manhattan property--once part of the Peter Stuyvesant farms--from his parents.  By the 1850s, a two-story brick stable sat on his land at 231 East 9th Street.  

Stuyvesant died in 1853 and by the early 1870s, his heirs were leasing the structure.  George Williams operated his business here in 1874, possibly repairing wagons.  On May 25, 1874, The Evening Telegram reported that Richard Cary had been arrested "on a charge of burglariously entering the premises, No. 231 East Ninth street, and stealing $50 worth of carpenters' tools."  William's tools--worth $1,470 in 2025 money--were recovered.

As early as 1881, Frederick A. Palmer leased the building.  His  advertisements described his Palmer & Co. as "woven wire mattress weavers."

The Stuyvesant heirs sold the building on February 5, 1891 to Morris Rosendorff for $11,000, or about $391,000 today.  While Rosendorff continued to lease the structure to Palmer, it seems that he overextended himself, and he lost it in foreclosure in June 1894.  It passed through two owners' hands before long-time tenant Frederick A. Palmer purchased 231 East 9th Street in 1897.

Around the turn of the century, Palmer renamed his firm the Palmer Galvanic Bed Co.  It now manufactured "wire bed springs."

On November 21, 1927, The New York Sun reported that Frederick A. Palmer had sold 231 East 9th Street to the Standard Metal Ceiling Company.  "At the age of 89 years he decided to sell the property," said the article, adding, "Mr. Palmer was a bed spring inventor and manufactured his springs in the Ninth street structure for forty years, first as tenant and after 1897 as owner."  

If the ceiling firm occupied the building at all, it was a short venture.  In 1928, the Proletarian Laboratory leased it and converted it to what The New York Times called an "improvised play-house," called the Prolab Theatre.

The Daily Worker, February 16, 1929

On January 7, 1929, The Daily Worker reported, "The Prolab (Proletarian Laboratory) Theatre has begun operations of the season at its headquarters--231 East 9th St.  Rehearsals have already begun on three one-act plays to be presented some time in February."  The article noted, "There will also be a monthly program of plays and dancing at the theatre headquarters."

The very-off Broadway venue did not survive for long.  By the late 1930s, the ground floor of 231 East 9th Street housed an automobile repair garage and an apartment was on the second floor.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Sculptor Charles Salerno occupied the apartment in 1953.  Born in 1916, he worked mostly in marble and was known for abstract figurative sculptures.  He taught art in Washington Irving High School and the National Academy of Design.

Charles Salerno, from the collection of the National Academy of Design

In 1959, the ground floor space was converted to a burlap bag repair shop.  Then in 1976, it became home to Montana Palace, a bakery-catering business.   It was replaced in 1990 by Col Legno, an "no-frills Italian spot," as described by New York Magazine's Liz Logan on July 16, 1990.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Col Legno remained in the space until 2008, followed by the Japanese restaurant, Sakagura, owned by Robataya NY.  The name was changed to Robataya around 2015.

The venerable little building with its incredible history still has one apartment on the second floor.  A Japanese cafe, Hi Collar occupies the ground floor.

photographs by the author

The 1885 Samuel Colcord House - 138 West 82nd Street

 

photo by the author

The son of builder Ralph Townsend, Ralph Samuel Townsend was born in New York in 1854.  By the time he was in his late 20's, he was listed in city directories as an architect.  In 1884, he was hired by real estate developer George Miller to design a row of homes along the south side of West 82nd Street, between Ninth and Tenth Avenues.  (The avenues would be renamed Columbus and Amsterdam, respectively, six years later.)  Completed in 1885, the identical, four-story-and-basement residences were faced in brownstone. 

Townsend designed them in the popular neo-Grec style, their upper windows fully framed in stone architraves with ample sill aprons and prominent molded cornices on carved brackets.  Townsend softened the style's angular personality with Renaissance Revival-style panels below the parlor windows, an exuberantly foliate-carved panel above the entrance, and a carved stylized pot of flowers on either side of the doorway.  The cast iron, balustraded stoop railings terminated in beefy newels.

Miller sold 138 West 82nd Street to former clergyman Samuel Colcord.  Around 1883, Colcord "gave up the ministry and made a fortune in west side real estate," as explained by The New York Times in 1898.  The newspaper said he "was called 'Lucky Sam' Colcord."

photo via sothebys.realty

His stepping down from the pulpit did not squelch Colcord's outspoken views.  He wrote theological books like the 1897 The Veracity of the Hexateuch, voiced his opinions of government in letters to editors of newspapers, and, at least once, in December 1898, rented Chickering Hall to argue the theories of Robert G. Ingersoll, known as "the Great Agnostic."

Colcord's residency here was relatively short.  By the time of his Chickering Hall lecture, he had moved on for a decade.  On November 16, 1888, he advertised in The New-York Times:

A bargain--First-class new dwelling, 138 West 82d-st.; four-story, high-stoop, 17 x 56 feet and extension; cabinet finish; artistic decorations; $28,000.  Apply on premises.  Samuel Colcord, owner.

(Colcord's listed price would translate to about $953,000 in 2025.)

The house changed hands several times before Dr. Ralph Tousey moved in around 1903, after his marriage to Elena V. Martinze, the daughter of a Cuban Government official.  Born on October 21, 1873, Tousey was a gynecologist.  He graduated from the College of Physicians and Surgeons in 1898.  

photograph by the author

Unfortunately, his marriage would not last. In 1904, Elena traveled to South Dakota where she obtained a divorce "on the ground of desertion," according to The New York Sun.  Shortly afterward, she married Harry W. Hazelton.

Five years later, in July 1909, Tousey sued Elena for divorce in Supreme Court, "alleging that the Dakota decree was not binding in this State," explained The Sun.  The court ruled against him, deciding that the 1904 divorce was valid.  Tousey's sudden interest in confirming that his divorce was legal was soon made clear.

On September 8, 1909, The Sun titled an article, "Ralph Tousey Weds Again," and reported that the previous evening he had married Clara S. Briner.  The article mentioned that Tousey was "a grandson of the late Sinclair Tousey, founder of the American News Company."

Like many families at the time, the Touseys rented rooms.  Their ad in The New York Times on October 7, 1910 read, "82d, 138 West--Exceptionally well furnished 2 rooms and bath suite in exclusive private family; breakfast if desired."  The ad was answered by Theodore Martin, self-described as "the distinguished Scottish tenor."  Martin sang at the St. Andrew's Banquet the next month.  The New York Sun deemed his singing as "an exquisite bit of work," adding that he "received a Caruso ovation at the end of this glorious song."

The Touseys' house had been the scene of Keystone Kops-like chaos a month earlier.  Two doors away, at 134 West 82nd Street, was the home of W. Dana Bigelow and his wife, Lyda.  In July 1910, Lyda's sister, Mrs. George Bloodworth arrived with her four-year-old son, W. Dana Bloodsworth.  She was fleeing from her husband in Maryland.  Before her sister died in September that year, Lyda promised that she would rear the boy and "never surrender" him to his father.

On October 17, 1910, a cab pulled up to the Bigelows' house and George Bloodworth and three men got out.  Bloodworth headed up the stoop while the others waited on the sidewalk.  The maid told Bloodworth that Lyda had taken the boy for a walk, and asked him to wait in the parlor.  While he sat there, Lyda quietly instructed the maid to sneak the boy out of the basement door and to the Tousey house.

Bloodworth's confederates, of course, saw the ruse and alerted him.  "Mrs. Bigelow then ran through a rear door and by using a ladder clambered over two fences separating her home from the house where the boy had been taken," reported the New York Herald.  Bloodworth and his three friends burst into the Tousey house just in time to see Lyda "carry the youngster through the rear door," according to the article, which said, "The woman ascended the ladder and was climbing the fence when her pursuers rushed through the door."

Realizing she did not have time to get back to her own house, Lyda took the boy into the basement of No. 136, then, "raced upstairs and over the roofs to her own home."  With her pursuers close behind, "Mrs. Bigelow locked the roof door of her home and she then began piling furniture against the outer doors of her residence.  This done and the boy secreted, she telephoned to her husband."  When police arrived, summoned by the worried Touseys, Bloodworth and his accomplices vanished.

By 1912 the Touseys had left West 82nd Street.  (Their marriage, incidentally, would end in annulment in 1924 when, after alleging that Clara was secretly insane at the time of their marriage, Ralph confined her in the Straighthill Sanitarium,  as insane.)  The house became home to the John B. Dauchy family.

In 1941 the muscular cast iron stoop railings and newels were intact.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Born in 1859, he married Phebe Denison Chesebrough on September 27, 1893.  Their son, Bradley Lasher, was born two years later.  John B. Dauchy was a dealer in paints, shellack, linseed oil and turpentine.  Among his largest clients was the City's Department of Parks.

By 1925, Bradley was working as a clerk with the American Woolen Company.  He and his parents remained at 138 West 82nd Street for one more year, after which it was home to the Max Bauman family.  

The residence was operated as a rooming house by mid-century.  Musician George A. Stubbs lived here in the early 1960s, and in the 1970s, photographer Guy Sussman occupied 138 West 82nd Street, holding photographic lessons in the house.

A renovation completed in 1981 resulted in one apartment per floor.  It was most likely at this time that the 1884 stoop ironwork was replaced with anemic, modern railings.  Astoundingly, Ralph S. Townsend’s interior detailing—carpenter’s lace, pocket doors, shutters and such—were carefully removed and stored in the basement.  

Seen here in 2009, the stoop railings and newels had been removed.

That foresight would be highly appreciated when a years-long renovation-restoration began in 2004.  The new owners resurrected the stored elements, had them professionally restored and re-installed.  

The new owners refabricated the lost railings and installed period appropriate newels.  photograph by the author

Included in the all-encompassing restoration was the refabrication of the stoop railings, based on surviving examples on the row, and a period appropriate pair of newels.  The project returned 138 West 82^nd Street to a single family residence.

photographs by the author

The Lost 1872 Van Rensselaer Building - 476 Broadway

from the collection of the Library of Congress

When the two identical Federal-style houses at 474 and 476 Broadway were erected around 1825, the block between Grand and Broome Streets was genteel.  But by the end of the Civil War, commerce had invaded the formerly residential district and both houses had been converted to businesses.

A variety of businesses operated from the former homes in the 1860s.  from the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

In 1871, Alexander Van Rensselaer purchased the properties and hired 44-year-old architect Richard Morris Hunt to design a store and loft building on the site.  

Nineteen years earlier, Jacob Wrey Mould had arrived in New York City from England.  Having studied with influential architect Owen Jones, Mould brought with him a passion for Moorish architecture and the use of bold, primary colors.  It is tempting to assume that it was Mould's conspicuous work that influenced Hunt's exotic design for the Van Rensselaer building.

Completed in 1872, the five-story structure was faced in cast iron.  Its polychromed facade included Moorish-style horseshoe arches, multifoil arches and pencil-like columns.  Hunt embellished the cast iron with decorative, additional materials.  American Architect & Building described it on June 10, 1876 saying, "The panels are filled with porcelain decorated with arabesques, the shafts of the columns are incased in brass and nickel-plated drums; and the mouldings, etc., are painted with various colors."

 

Signed "R. M. Hunt," the architect's rendering is in the collection of the Library of Congress.

The major tenant of the new building was the newly-founded silk goods and dry goods jobbers, Rice, Goodwin, Walker & Co.  The company started out well, The New York Times remarking on December 24, 1874 that it, "transacted during the first year and a half of its existence a considerable amount of business."  

Then came the Financial Panic of 1893.  Like the stock market crash in 1929, the economic depression resulted in the closure of the  New York Stock Exchange and the ruination of a multitude of businesses and banks.  On December 24, 1874, The New York Times reported that the failure of Rice, Goodwin, Walker & Co. "created no little excitement."  The news traveled throughout the nation and on the same day, the Wyoming newspaper The Cheyenne Daily Leader noted, "The firm intended to go out of business at the close of the year."  

American Architect and Building News, July 15, 1876 (copyright expired)

The "fancy goods and notions" firm, Butler, Pitkin & Co. occupied space by 1880.  Interviewed by the New-York Tribune in August that year, a member painted an optimistic view of the economic recovery.  "The amount of business done by us promises to be greater than for any season for fifteen years," he said.

The store was targeted by petty thieves that same month.  On August 14, the New-York Tribune reported, "Annie Connors and Johannah Regan, at the Tombs Police Court yesterday, were charged with stealing pearl buttons from the store of Butler, Pitkin & Co."  

Early in 1890, an unusual strike crippled the garment industry when "workmen on cloaks" walked off the job "for an advance in wages," according to the New York Herald.  The strike was somewhat surprising because it was "independent of any union, and includes over 600 men and women," explained the newspaper. By June 17, according to The Evening World, the number of strikers had risen to 10,000, now joined with union members throughout the city. 

Affected by the walkout was 476 Broadway tenant Popkin & Marks, a cloak manufacturer.  On June 17, the New York Herald reported on a possible break in the negotiations.  "Mr. Abraham Popkin visited the cutters at Pythagoras Hall, said that he was sorry he had joined the Manufacturers' Association, and wanted his hands all back at the highest wages."  A corrupt union leader would complicate the negotiations.

The following year, on March 23, 1891, a grand jury indicted union official Joseph Bardoness for extortion.  The Sun reported that Popkin & Marks asserted that Bardoness "compelled each firm to pay $100 before he would permit their striking employees to go back to work."

Herman, Sternbach & Co., importers, was in the building as early as 1886.  Composed of Daniel W. and Abraham Herman, Daniel McKeever, and Charles Sternbach, the firm garnered fortunes for its executives.

McKeever and his family lived in "one of the newest homes in Orange [New Jersey] and is a striking one," said the New-York Tribune on November 30, 1886.  Among their neighbors was the family of Henry Loveridge, president of the Maryland Coal Company.  His 18-year-old daughter, Marion, went to school and grew up with McKeever's son, William.

At the time of the article, William D. McKeever was 18 years old and worked as a clerk for Lazarus & Rosenfeld, chinaware merchants.  On November 22, 1886, Mrs. Loveridge took Marion to Dr. Joseph W. Howe in Manhattan.  The New-York Tribune reported, "After the visit to New-York, it was decided that it was best that Mr. McKeever and Marion should be married."  A note was sent to William telling him to meet at Marion's grand-aunt's house at 33 West 16th Street that night.  When he arrived, a minister was there and the wedding took place.  Marion went home with her parents and William went to his own home, never mentioning the marriage to his parents.

The secret came out when the Loveridges contacted the McKeevers about announcing the marriage.  On November 30, 1886, the New-York Tribune titled an article, "McKeever's Father Angry / Wanting His Son's Marriage Annulled."  Daniel McKeever told the reporter, "it is simply ridiculous that a mere lad of eighteen years, only an errand boy in a shop and unable to maintain a wife, should get married."  He also accused Loveridge of threats and coercion.

The rift prompted back-and-forth public announcements in the newspapers.  McKeever said his son was "entrapped into this marriage," while Loveridge insisted that William was "a competent and responsible person," capable of starting a family.  On December 2, the New-York Tribune reported that an attorney had been appointed guardian of William and he "seeks an annulment of the contract on the allegations that he was forced to wed against his will."

The annulment case failed.  Daniel McKeever, however, would not be daunted.  On September 16, 1892, he had his son arrested "alleging that the young man was insane," as reported by the New York Herald.  The physicians at Bellevue Hospital deemed William sane.  "It is further alleged that the father tried to bribe certain physicians to certify to young McKeever's insanity," reported the newspaper.

Other tenants in the building in the 1890s were real estate agent T. S. Atwalter; Eureka Trading Co., dealers of bicycles; auctioneer Louis Ullman; and the Mosler Safe Company.  All of them would soon have to find alternative accommodations.  

Only 29 years after the remarkable structure was completed, developer Henry Corn purchased 476 Broadway in November 1901.  The Record & Guide reported that he "will erect thereon a 12-story store and loft building from the plans of R[obert]. Maynicke."  That building, completed in 1903, survives.

photograph by the author

many thanks to reader Matthew Halls for suggesting this post