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 meetings 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

no permission to reuse the content of this blog has been granted to LaptrinhX.com

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

no permission to reuse the content of this blog has been granted to LaptrinhX.com

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

no permission to reuse the content of this blog has been granted to LaptrinhX.com

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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The 1883 James Clark Abrams House - 146 West 130th Street

Real estate developer Samuel O. Wright completed three brownstone fronted houses at 146-150 West 130th Street in 1883.  The identical homes were three stories tall above English basements and 18-feet wide.  Designed by Cleverdon & Putzel, their ambitious neo-Grec design included architrave window surrounds, the lower portions of which were incised to suggest fluting, and bold bracketed cornices.  The stoop and areaway were guarded by beefy cast iron railings and newels crowned with commanding finials.  The engaged Tuscan columns that flanked the double-doored entrance upheld a forceful entablature and molded cornice.  Here the architects dipped into the Queen Anne style with a row of playful sunburst designs.

In July 1882, while construction was ongoing, James Bogert purchased 146 West 130th Street for $14,500 (about $446,000 in 2024 terms).  He advertised it for sale on January 16, 1890 for $16,500.  It was purchased by Robert O'Neill Ford and his wife, the former Sophie Eliza Darling.

Ford was born in Pennsylvania in 1840.  He joined the U. S. Marine Corps at the onset of the Civil War and on April 1, 1862 was appointed a second lieutenant.  President Abraham Lincoln and Gideon Wells, the Secretary of the Navy, signed his commission.

Robert O'Neill Ford gave this photograph of himself in uniform to Sophie while they were still courting.  On the back is inscribed "R.O.N.F. for S.E."  from the collection of The Henry Ford.

Sophie Eliza Darling was born in New York City in 1843, the daughter of William Augustus and Eliza M. Lee Darling.  Her wealthy father was the president of a railroad and the Appraiser of the Port, a highly sought-after and well-paying commission.  Only months after the end of the war, on November 8, 1865, she and Robert were married.  They had three children, O'Neil Ford, born in 1867; Clarence Darling, who arrived the following year; and Robert Edwin, who was born in 1874.

On March 4, 1893, three years after moving into the 130th Street house, Sophie died at the age of 50.  The New-York Tribune announced, "Funeral services will be held at her late residence, 146 West 130th-st., on Tuesday, March 7th, at 4 p.m."

The house was sold one year later almost to the day, on March 6, 1894, for the equivalent of $676,000 today.  It became home to another Civil War veteran, Major James Clark Abrams, and his wife, the former Sarah Caroline Russell.  James and Sarah were married on October 4, 1871 and had four children, Robert Russell, Harold B., Marion, and James Clark.  

Born in Hudson, New York in 1841, Abrams enlisted in the Seventh Regiment on October 8, 1860.  It was the preferred regiment for the sons of millionaires, earning it the nickname "The Silk Stocking Regiment."  He served throughout the Civil War.  The New York Times later recalled, "He often spoke of the Baltimore riots, in which the first blood of the war of the rebellion was shed, and also saw service during the draft riots and during the Orange troubles."  (The "Orange troubles" referred to the Orange Riots in Manhattan in 1870 and 1871, a bloody conflict between Protestant and Catholic Irish immigrants.)  

Abrams remained active in the Seventh Regiment and on May 22, 1893 he was promoted to major.  Around the same time, he was invited to the White House where President Grover Cleveland awarded him a diamond cross.  In stark contrast to his military presence, in civilian life Abrams was a dentist.  

In 1900, laborers upstate agitated for higher pay and better work conditions.  Their protests turned to riots and they threatened to blow up the the Croton Dam.  The Seventh Regiment was deployed there in April.  Abrams, now 60 years old, caught what The New York Times described as "a severe cold."  He never recovered and nearly a year later, on March 10, 1901, he died.  The Baltimore Sun called him, "one of the best known officers of the National Guard of the State," The New York Times adding that "for the past forty years [he] had been a prominent figure in National Guard circles."

Following Abrams's death, Sarah's brother Robert Russell, moved into the house.

On March 10, 1906, Sarah announced the engagement of Marion to Harold Thorndale Birnie.  The wedding was held in the drawing room on March 27.  The New York Herald reported, "Following the ceremony, which will be witnessed by relatives and intimate friends, there will be a reception."

There would be two more Abrams funerals in the house.  Robert Russell died on January 9, 1909, and Sarah Caroline Abrams died on July 12, 1916.

The Abrams children leased 146 West 130th Street to Cornelia M. Andrews.  She was the widow of John R. Andrews, a member of the jewelry firm Tiffany & Co.  In the fall of 1918, Cornelia visited her cousin, Mrs. Wilfred J. Funk, in Montclair, New Jersey, were she died on November 10.

When the estate of Sarah Caroline Abrams sold 146 West 130th Street in February 1922, the demographics of the neighborhood had greatly changed.  Harlem, whose only black presence had been domestic staff at the turn of the century, was now the epicenter of Manhattan's black community.  The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide mentioned that the new owner of the Abrams house had purchased it "for investment."

Like most of the homes along the block, 146 West 130th Street was operated as unofficial apartments.  It played an important part in black culture when, according to the 1991 Literary New York, A History and Guide,  LeRoi Jones founded the Black Arts Repertory Theatre School in the house around 1965.

A major figure in black culture, LeRoi Jones was a poet, dramatist, and author.  He changed his name to Amiri Baraka in 1965 following the assassination of Malcolm X.  Known as BARTS, the Black Arts Repertory Theatre School was the first of its kind.  According to historian Rachel Horowitz, "The FBI were present at initial meetings and classroom discussions, including educational lectures on African-American history."  Although the school remained opened here for only about a year, it prompted the establishment of similar institutions throughout the country.

A renovation completed in 2006 resulted in a duplex apartment in the basement and parlor floor, and one apartment each on the upper floors.

photographs by the author

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The Robert Laird House - 228 East 10th Street

 

Tenth Street, as laid out on the Commissioners' Plan of 1811, ran through the 86-acre estate of Henry Brevoort.  It was not until after his death in 1841 that elegant homes began rising along the quiet thoroughfare.  By the late 1850s, real estate agent John Rogers lived in the newly built brick house at 75 Tenth Street (renumbered 228 East 10th Street in 1868).

Rogers's Greek Revival home was 25-feet-wide and three-and-a-half stories tall above an English basement.  It would originally have had a sturdy brownstone frame around the entrance, simple stone lintels atop the openings, and an unassuming cornice above the squat attic windows.  Rogers ran his business from the house, possibly in the basement level, as reflected in a panicked announcement in the New York Herald on October 31, 1861:

Lost--A rent book, showing the payments of rents; is of no use to no one but the owner.  By leaving it at the office of John Rogers, house agent, 75 Tenth avenue, a reward will be given.

At the time, another real estate agent named Robert Laird lived further east on Tenth Street.  The two most likely knew one another.  By 1868 Laird's family occupied the former Rogers home.  

The Lairds' summer home was in Irvington-on-Hudson.  They were there in July 1881 before their neighbors, the family of Police Captain McCullagh (who were also from New York City), had arrived.  On July 19, an enormous fire broke out "in what is called the horticultural building of Messrs. Lord & Burnhan," according to The Sun.  The fire spread rapidly, causing the newspaper to say, "If the wind had not changed suddenly yesterday morning it is probable that a good part of Irvington would have been burned."

As the flames threatened the McCullagh home, Laird jumped into action.  When the captain arrived from New York, "He found all his furniture in the street, and his friends, Mr. Robert Laird of Tenth street and Mr. John F. Dinkle of Irvington, exhausted by their labors in sweeping and sousing his roof."

Robert Laird died around 1881, and on February 23, 1884, The Record & Guide reported that his son, John, had sold 228 East 10th Street to Christian Hummel for $16,250 (about $521,000 in 2024 terms).  The following year, on March 21, 1885, the journal reported that Hummel had hired architect Frederick Jenth to "raise attic to full story."  Part of the renovation was the addition of sheet metal cornices over the windows and an up-to-date neo-Grec terminal cornice.

In 1887, Hummel provided bond for an 18-year-old delinquent, William Kurz.  On March 2, the Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported that Kurz, "who distinguished himself by jumping from the Brooklyn Bridge some months since, was rearraigned before Justice O'Reilly to-day, at Essex Market Court, New York.  He was arrested yesterday...for discharging three barrels of a revolver at Frances Rignacht, his mother."

When Mrs. Rignacht was told that her son faced a prison term, she refused to press charges.  "Christian Hummel, of 228 East Tenth street, who became bondsman for Kurz, surrendered the lad to Justice O'Reilly," said the article.  "Kurz is again in the Tombs."

In 1891, Charles Ruff and his wife, Maria, moved into the house.  Ruff was "a wealthy retired builder," according to The Sun.  Maria was his second wife.  His first wife (her sister) had died and the couple was married on on January 30, 1889.  Maria had been previously married, as well, and both had a child from their first marriages.  (Which, interestingly, now made the children both cousins and siblings.)

On July 16, 1895, The New York Times explained, "Their married life was full of trouble from the start."  Charles Ruff was extremely jealous, controlling, and both physically and mentally abusive.  His jealousy grew to obsession.  Constantly accusing Maria of flirting with men or, worse, being unfaithful, The New York Times reported, "Her husband said she might signal to other men if she was permitted to go near the windows, and to make assurance doubly sure on this score, he had all the window glass painted."

Maria told the courts he "would sprinkle flour all over the rooms and hallways of the house" at night.  He told her it would allow him "to detect any person who might enter [Maria's] room."  Charles imprisoned her in her bedroom at night.  The New York Times wrote, "he would keep a guard at night in her bedroom to watch her.  He would also bolt and double lock all the doors and windows of the room."

Finally, in August 1895, Maria had had enough.  She sued for separation.  The New York Times sarcastically reported that Ruff, "has an amiable habit, his wife says, of shooting at her, striking her on the head when the fancy seizes him, and indulging in other pleasant practices just to show that he is the head of the house."

The Sun reported, "she charges him with cruelty and abandonment.  She says that he has $125,000 in realty and $50,000 in personalty [i.e.,assets], from which he derives an income of $10,000 a year."  If Maria were correct, her husband's worth would equal just over 5 million in 2024 dollars.

But, as is often the case with domestic abuse victims, Maria returned to Charles.  Following his death in 1901, she inherited his estate, including 228 East 10th Street.  

The East 10th Street neighborhood had noticeably changed by then.  Once a refined residential enclave, it had filled with tenements and commercial buildings.  Within a few years of Maria Ruff's inheriting the property, the house was converted to apartments.  Additionally, the stoop was removed and a shop installed in the basement level.

Among the tenants in 1906 was Mrs. S. Schlomowitz.  Early on the morning of March 19, she woke to discover a thief in her room.  The feisty woman, "grappled with him, but he escaped through an open window, taking a $60 watch and chain."  Mrs. Schlomowitz reported the theft and it led to the discovery of a den of thieves next door.  Two days later, The New York Sun reported, "Three Italians named Giuseppe Rossi, Christopher Scimone and Joseph Clementi, all of 226 East Tenth street, were arrested yesterday."  In their rooms, "a quantity of jewelry, including three watches and a silver smelling salts bottle" were found.

By 1913, Italian businessmen were terrorized by the Black Hand, an Italian-American extortion group also known as La Mano Nera.  On October 19 that year, The New York Times titled a first-page article, "Police Strike a Telling Blow At Organized Bomb Gang," and noted that since the first of the year there had been 125 "bomb outrages" that resulted in two fatalities and 19 injuries.  The list included, "July 25--228 East Tenth Street bomb explosion in basement occupied by Dominick Quattrone as a confectionery store.  Paole Gerace caught running away."

Living upstairs at the time was Otto Mertel, a 30-year-old waiter.  Two months after the bombing, early in the morning of Christmas Eve, Mertel got into a fight with John Wood "on the sidewalk in front of Lena Hoberg's restaurant, No. 119 Third avenue," as reported by the Evening World.  Wood, who was 35 and a plumber, landed a knock-out blow to Mertel, sending him to the pavement and fracturing his skull.  Wood was arrested "about a block from the scene of the fight, deliberately walking away," and was charged with felonious assault.  Otto Mertel never returned to his room here.  He died at Bellevue Hospital.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Some time before mid-century, the building was painted white.  The East Village neighborhood experienced change again as the 20th century drew to a close.  On July 3, 2013, The New York Times reported that a "local family investor" had purchased the building, noting that it had two commercial spaces and nine apartments--"1 studio, 7 one-bedrooms and 1 three-bedroom."  At the time, Dieci, an Asian fusion restaurant was in the ground floor and the second floor office space was vacant.  In 2019, Tsukimi, a Japanese restaurant, opened in the lower level.

photographs by the author

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