photo by Alice Lum |
Like nearby Union Square and Gramercy Park, Madison Square
park in the 1870s was encircled by high-end homes of the well-to-do. The park officially opened on May 10, 1847,
still ahead of the city’s dogged northward migration. But the exclusive residential nature of the
park would not last long. Close on the
tails of the residents were the shops, hotels and business buildings that were
lumped together under the heading that struck horror in the hearts of
homeowners: Commerce.
By 1891 commerce had elbowed its way among the fine
residences of Madison Square. The
five-story brick-and-stone home at No. 34 East 23rd Street was now
the shop of dressmaker Miss Macheret.
And while the carriages of wealthy socialites stopped at its door; very
few of the women still lived on the Park.
While Miss Macheret ran her dressmaking business here in 1894, No. 34 (with bay window) still retained its residential appearance; unlike its commercial neighbor next door at No. 32 photo Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York, http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYW84DR5&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=894 |
While Miss Macheret sold expensive gowns and dresses from
No. 34, neighboring residences were being razed or altered for business
purposes. Similar change would come to No. 34 in
1904. The handsome façade with its
second story bay window was stripped off to be replaced by an up-to-date Beaux
Arts limestone front. An expansive first
floor show window was framed in stone, capped by a modest cornice with dentil
molding.
Above a central three-story arch was framed in rusticated
stone. The recessed openings were
accentuated by a concave enframement; out of which burst forth an aggressive two-story
sided bay topped by balcony with cast iron railings. Sumptuously carved stone brackets supported a
cornice-balcony at the uppermost floor.
photo by Alice Lum |
The New-York Tribune, June 24, 1911 -- copyright expired |
Pomeroy Company had been located nearby at No. 17 Union
Square. The firm manufactured elastic
stockings, trusses and other artificial limbs.
L & C. Hardtmuch dealt in stationery supplies—tracing papers,
pencils, and artist materials. By 1911
it was doing a brisk business as the distributor of Koh-I-Noor Pencils. The “copying ink pencils” for office work
were imported from Europe.
Schermerhorn was fortunate in that his tenants would remain
in the building for years. D. T. Owen
would sell the latest styles of furniture well into the 1920s from here. In 1922 the store offered “’Bed-rock’ buying
for the thrifty woman—and with it is Owen Quality, always and only, the best
that skill can command.”
Customers would be custom-fitted for Pomeroy's devices -- The Railway Surgeon, February 1915 (copyright expired) |
With the United States’ entry into World War I a new tenant
moved in—the U.S. Navy Recruiting Station.
The conflict spurred a patriotic fervor which resulted in lines outside
the office door. On March 29, 1917 alone
97 men applied. Lieutenant T. H. Taylor
was in charge of the station and he described the support staff here. “We have enough stenographers and clerks to
meet our needs and two surgeons and four men from the hospital corps to handle
the medical inspection. Eight chief
petty officers have been assigned from the navy yard to handle the sub-stations
which are being opened about the city and for the automobile campaign.”
By the turn of the century only one former house in the row retained any hint of its residential roots -- photo by Alice Lum |
A year later, in May 1918, the recruiting officers were
taking in about 500 men every week. The zealous
men were often either under-aged or over-aged for the military. On May 14 The New York Times reported on the
recruits that had showed up the previous day.
“Most of the men were below or above the draft age and several of them
had obtained permission from their local boards to enlist in the navy.”
The physical condition of many of the men eager to serve was sometimes a problem. On one day in March 1917 of
the 97 men who applied, 32 were rejected upon physical examination. The following month Dr. William Hills
Sheldon established physical training classes for “building up men who were
rejected by the army and navy for physical defects.” He and his physical instructor, Arthur
McGovern, requested that the Navy Recruiting Office send “a number of men who
were acceptable to them except that they lacked the requisite weight and
development.” Dr. Sheldon wrote in the
New York Medical Journal on June 8, 1918 “These men entered the classes in
physical drill and were also instructed in hygiene. We were encouraged by the results obtained in
those men who came regularly.”
Even with the end of the war in 1919 the Navy Recruiting Office
did not slow down. Although the general
public viewed World War I as the "war to end war," the Navy was not so sure. The Pittsburgh Press noted on June 8, 1919 “With
the signing of the peace treaty an immediate prospect, recruiting officers of
the navy are putting forth every effort to ‘sign up’ new men to keep the naval
personnel up to required strength.”
Potential recruits were lured with the promise that they could
choose the ship they wished to serve on.
The officer in charge of the 23rd Street office told the
newspaper that the men could visit the large ships in the Brooklyn Navy Yard
and take their pick. “The navy yard
today is a busy place and is well worth a visit to all those interested in
naval shipping,” said The Press. “This
method of recruiting will be sure to result in the signing of many new men, the
naval officers believe.”
Later that year the office was recruiting sailors to re-man the
crew of the U.S.S. Arizona which was berthed in the New York Navy Yard. The Navy marketed the warship in the most
boastful terms. “So proud is the Arizona
of her record that she defies any ship in the American navy to come forth with
more interesting tales of places visited,” said the New-York Tribune on August
11, 1919.
Lieutenant F. H. H. Gilmer added “Within a period of four
weeks the Arizona saw the coasts of South America, North America, Europe,
Africa and Asia. Going some, isn’t it?”
The same month the office was looking for “mechanically
inclined men” for service aboard the U.S.S. Shawmut. The Shawmut was, according
to the New-York Tribune “the only aviation mother ship in the navy”—the 1919
version of the modern aircraft carrier.
“The Shawmut acts as tender for ten seaplanes and will be
attached to the Atlantic fleet,” said the newspaper. “Four of the seaplanes are carried on board
ship. The other six are known as air
boats—big seaplanes of the F-5 type. Air
boats are flown from port to port, and engage in all fleet manoeuvres.”
If aircraft carrier duty was innovative, work on the U.S.S.
R-38 was more so. Thirty-eight men
enlisted by the 23rd Street office in February 1920 were to be flown
to England to train for duties as members of its crew. The special training was necessary because
the U.S.S. R-38 was not the expected United States Navy vessel—it was a giant
dirigible.
The recruiting office promised that those chosen would be
assigned “to a new duty that will make them the envy of the entire service.” The dirigible was 708 feet long with a
capacity of about 2 million cubic feet.
Little by little the post-war recruiting slowed. In March 1921 the office was expected to
recruit 25 men per week—about 10 percent of its quota at the height of the war.
Architects William O. Prescott and David Cairns Scott had
been kept busy during the conflict. In
reporting that Scott & Prescott was moving its offices to No. 34 East 23rd
Street in 1920, American Architect and Architecture noted “During the war Scott
& Prescott were architects for the Army Hospital for shell-shock patients,
the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Club of New York, the recreation building for the
Navy Aviation Camp at Montauk Point, L. I., and the Navy Post Office.”
The cornice has sadly been lost; but the bulk of the handsome structure is intact -- photo by Alice Lum |
A quarter of a century later William Prescott would still be
operating from his offices here. Bookman
Associates, book publishers, would move in during mid-century. Today a variety of small businesses fill the
spaces where early tenants stayed on for decades. The retail space where “thrifty women”
shopped for living room furniture is now home to a sandwich shop.
The cornice has disappeared from the roofline and the ground
floor has been somewhat altered. But on
the whole the Beaux Arts beauty retains its integrity—looking very much as it
did when idealistic young men lined up in its hallways to sail off to war.
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