| Located in the high-end retail district, the commercial stable was especially handsome. |
As the great retail emporiums lined New York’s Ladies’ Mile stretching
from 14th to 23rd Streets along Sixth Avenue,
the side streets filled with an assortment of structures. Some of them, like warehouses, were connected
with to the stores. Others were only
marginally associated with the retail industry.
Among the latter group was William Vogt’s stable at 109 West 17th Street. The
three-story Italianate-style structure was a handsome take on the traditional stable
design. Constructed almost entirely of
red brick, it boasted especially attractive architectural details.
The brickwork of the six piers at street level was laid to
mimic rusticated stone. They sat on
carved stone bases and were capped with stone capitals that supported a
wide stone entablature. The keystones
of the first and second floor were carved with simple foliate designs. At the second and third floors, incised
panels nestled between the centered, paired arched windows and the single openings
on either end. Here, at the second floor, painted signs advertised
the vehicles and horses available to rent.
| The architect added unnecessary but wonderfully decorative elements--brick voussoirs, carved keystones, deftly-carved capitals and small touches like the recessed niche. |
Four blocks to the south, at Sixth Avenue and 13th
Street, was the home furnishings store of Sheppard Knapp--best known for its
wide array of carpeting. Because female shoppers of the 1890s expected their purchases to be delivered, high-end stores
kept drays and horses. Sheppard Knapp
leased space in Vogt’s stable for its teams.
At the busiest time of the afternoon on June 21, 1893, just
before 5:00, flames erupted from the bookbindery of George W. Alexander at 108 West 18th Street. The New
York Times reported, “When the greatest crowds were surging along Sixth
Avenue, between Fourteenth and Twenty-third Streets, yesterday afternoon the
fire engines dashed up to the corner of Sixth Avenue and Eighteenth Street.”
Crowds of onlookers watched in shocked suspense as flames
licked out of all six stories of the structure.
“It was known that this building was a very bee-hive of industry and
teemed with men, women, and girls,” said the newspaper.
As firemen on ladders rescued workers from the 18th
Street side, terrified females panicked at the back of the building. The rear façade had a fire
escape, “yet four women took flying leaps from the fourth story, expecting to
reach the main roof of Sheppard Knapp’s stable at 109 West Seventeenth Street,”
reported The New York Times. “They all missed
their calculations and were seriously injured.”
Young Annie Timmins landed flat on her back on the extension
shed behind the stable, “rolled off the shed and struck a dog kennel, afterward
falling to the ground.” Her spine was
fractured and she died.
At the same time Mary Fitzpatrick jumped, landing in the
rear yard of the stable. She
sustained severe internal injuries and was taken to the New-York Hospital. The other two jumpers, 48-year-old Mrs.
Hannah Van Orden and Mary McNamara were also injured. Like Annie Timmins, she landed on the shed,
wounding herself. The McNamara girl
broke her leg when she landed in the stable yard.
Vogt also ran an express office from the stable, receiving
luggage and packages from steamers then either storing or delivering them. His service became entangled in a missing
person mystery the year shortly after the bindery fire.
On September 14, 1893, 20-year-old Freida Kleinsteuber arrived in Hoboken on the Dania. She had five
heavy pieces of baggage which, peculiarly, were sent to different express
companies in different areas of the city.
One trunk was consigned to Vogt’s operation on West 17th
Street.
The girl was on her way to visit Mary Ernst in Chicago. But she never arrived there. When the girl’s brother wrote to Mrs. Ernst in
December to inquire why his sister had not yet written, the woman
panicked. She cabled back explaining
that she was unaware that Freida had arrived in the country.
By March 1894, there was still no word of Freida’s
whereabouts. A friend told The Evening
World, “we are afraid that she has met with foul play or that she may have been
made the victim of some evil woman. She
can speak English and French, and willingly, we are sure, she would not adopt a
wicked life.”
William Vogt told investigators that the one trunk “remained
here for a month until one day a pretty blonde little woman called for it, and,
showing the proper checks, asked that it be sent to some house uptown.” He no doubt frustrated detectives when he was pressed to
show the date or delivery address. He “found
he found he had omitted to make an entry of the date of the transaction or the
house to which the baggage had been sent,” reported The Evening World.
Stables, with their ample quantity of hay and other flammable
articles, were often the scenes of fire and Vogt’s was no exception. On February 6, 1885, three horses were burned
to death in a fire in the rear of the building.
As the era of the horse and carriage passed, the many
stables in New York were converted as garages for motorcars, altered for business
purposes, or simply razed. In January
1941, Benjamin Schachter, a furniture manufacturer, leased the building from the
Gazba Realty Corporation for its operation.
In the 1960s, the once grand emporiums of the Ladies’ Mile were
dusty, vacant fossils and the glory days of Sixth Avenue were a faded memory. The old stable building on West 17th
Street was home to Norman Lerner’s photographic studio. He gave
classes here in “photographic esthetics.”
During the 1970s, the Asian decorative arts store, Miya
Shoji, took the first floor. Exotic
screens and decorative household goods were sold in the space once occupied by
coupes and horses.
Then, as the 21st century neared, the Ladies’
Mile experienced a renaissance. The
expansive department stores were rehabilitated into new uses as residences and
retail outlets. No. 107 West 17th
experienced its own renovation that included a harsh façade cleaning that wiped away
the century-old advertisements.
In the 1990s, the Tuscan restaurant Ristorante da Umberto, an upscale eatery that catered to the trendy new crowd that roamed the
reborn Chelsea neighborhood, occupied the ground floor.
Then, with the new century, a remarkable thing happened at the
second floor of William Vogt’s stables.
The stubborn painted Victorian signs leached out of the brick façade. Considered lost, they once again announce to
the passerby that victorias, coupes and horses are available inside.
photographs taken by the author
| Once erased by a well-intentioned cleaning, the Victorian painted signs have re-emerged. |
photographs taken by the author
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