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| photo by Alice Lum |
The governor of Nieuw Amsterdam, Peter Suyvesant, had a strong and simple view on religion: he was right and all others were wrong. A member of the Dutch Reformed Church, he forbade citizens to “admit, lodge or entertain…any one of the heretical and abominable sect called the Quakers” in 1655. The following year he refused Lutherans the right to organize a church. So it was not surprising that when the first Jews landed in New York in 1654 they were met with severe discrimination.
By the 1820s the Jewish population in New York City was
still relatively small; yet it was substantial enough to have three separation
congregations: Congregation Shearith Israel, the oldest; Congregation B’nai
Jeshurun; and Congregation Anshe Chesed.
Composed of German, Polish and Dutch Jews, Anshe Chesed was the youngest
group, established in 1828. Between 1812
and 1846 the Jewish population would swell from 400 to 10,000 and by the start
of the Civil War there would be more than two dozen synagogues in the city. Large numbers, however, did not mean
wide-spread acceptance.
Congregation Anshe Chesed was made up mostly of immigrants
with little money or status. They
worshiped in rented rooms until 1842 when the old Quaker Meeting House at No.
38 Henry Street was purchased and converted to a synagogue. Within a decade the congregation grew to be the
largest of any synagogue in America.
Anshe Chesed (People of Kindness) distinguished itself from
other Manhattan congregations as well by embracing the Reform Movement. But this change would not become fully rooted
until the group built a new, impressive synagogue on Norfolk Street. As it outgrew the Henry Street facility,
trustees began searching for a new site by 1848. Three lots at Nos. 172 to 176
Norfolk Street, between Stanton and Houston Streets, were purchased for $10,000 (around a
quarter of a million dollars today). In
an ironic twist of poetic justice, the lot was part of Peter Stuyvesant’s
former estate.
Several architects submitted drawings and a vote in February
1848 resulted in the commission going to Alexander Saeltzer. The German born architect turned to Gothic
Revival for the new structure. The style
had first appeared in New York a decade earlier and would soon become the
favorite for Christian churches. Because
of that, later synagogue architects would shy away from Gothic as being too
church-like. But for now, Saeltzer
forged ahead with vigor.
His completed brick structure featured the expected pointed
arched openings and carved tracery. Two sturdy towers flanked a recessed
central section. Pinnacles and gently
sagging moldings adorned the windows; while inside a superb groined-arched
ceiling was supported by clustered columns.
The once-tiny congregation of impoverished immigrants had arrived.
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| photo by Alice Lum |
The new shul was formally consecrated on May 16, 1850 with
elaborate ritual. It was the largest
synagogue in New York, capable of accommodating 700 men on the main floor and
500 women in the gallery. The inclusive
guest list to the dedication included several Christian clergymen, the mayor
and members of the Common Council.
Now in its new home, some reform changes were made--like the
introduction of a choir of both sexes.
Little by little other innovations would be accepted. In 1869 a pipe organ was purchased and later
families were permitted to sit together during worship. On December 28, 1873 The New York Times said “Innovations
were gradually introduced; and at a general meeting of the congregation, held a
week ago, they declared themselves in harmony with every principle enunciated
and proclaimed by reformed Judaism, prepared to adopt the most radical measures
to bring their worship to accord with modern ideas.”
As a sort of by-product of this decision, the congregation
applied to consolidate with the Temple Adath Jeshurun. “Thus the oldest orthodox congregation of the
City of New York has become merged entirely with a congregation recognized as
the leading radical reform congregation of the country,” announced The New York Times.
The combined congregation built a new synagogue uptown on
Lexington Avenue. The Norfolk Street
shul was purchased by Congregation Shaari Rachmim, which sold it 13 years later
to the First Hungarian Congregation Oheb Zedek.
It would not be until June 19, 1890 that this congregation received its
first rabbi and appropriate celebration surrounded his arrival.
The New York Times reported that the synagogue was “completely
filled” at the reception of the Rev. Dr. Philip Klein. Before the congregation were six other
rabbis, three judges and other dignitaries.
Following the ceremony a banquet was given. The importance with which the congregation
viewed the event was evident in the list of letters of regret that were
read. Among them were notes from “President
Harrison, Vice-President Morton, ex-President Cleveland, and Mayor Grant.”
Along with its Hungarian-born congregants, the synagogue was
also spiritual home to many Russians. In
1905 the Russian government began an all-out persecution of Jews. On March 12 that year a cable from a group of
Jews in Berlin arrived at The New York Times office describing “a new period of
persecution of Jews in Russia and alleging that Russian anti-Semites are making
a systematic attempt to arrange a repetition of the Kishineff massacre.” The cable said that manifestos were being
distributed “advocating massacres of Jews” with rewards to those who carried
them out.
By December the threats had been made real and Russian Jews
were being slaughtered. Speaking to the
First Hungarian Congregation on December 4, 1905, Rev. H. Pereira Mendes said
that they were the congregation who felt the most grief; for they personally received the
letters from Russia.
“The world has never witnessed a time like this. There have been times of intense suffering at
the hands of one nation where the others could not help.” The rabbi tried to give hope, saying that
from the terror would come reform. “There
must be scenes of horror, yet, but can we doubt the ultimate result? It is equal rights for all Jews in
Russia. The horrors have stirred up the
world, and now we will have a government of the people by the people and for
the people.”
Sadly, the ultimate horror for Jews in Europe was still a
few decades away.
The following year, on November 4, 1906, the cornerstone was
laid for the Hungarian congregation’s new synagogue in Harlem. For a while Congregation Ohab Zedek would
maintain both locations. “The old
synagogue in Norfolk Street will be in charge of the Rev. Philip Klein,”
reported The New York Times, “and an assistant will be appointed to officiate at the new
temple, which will be completed by Jan. 1.”
Congregation Ohab Zedek was still on Norfolk Street in 1910
when Jacob A. Rich married Sarah Siegel.
The ceremony would not have drawn attention normally. Neither the bride nor groom was socially
important—as a matter of fact Rich was a member of one of New York’s lowest caliber
groups, the newsboys. Like shoeblacks,
the boys earned a meager existence on the streets and many slept and were fed
in lodging houses built specifically for them.
But Jacob Rich, known as Jack Sullivan on the street, had
earned the title “King of Newsboys.” And
his wedding was a major event in the Lower East Side. “Two hundred newsboys will leave the Newsboys’
Home in a body and march to the synagogue in honor of the ‘king,’” reported the
New-York Tribune on November 24, 1910. “Following
a reception at the Café Boulevard the couple will go to Lakewood, where they
will spend their honeymoon.”
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| In 1934 the brick was still exposed. photograph from the collection of the New York Public Library |
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| About five years after it was abandoned, the building was in serious disrepair -- photograph by Edmund V. Gillon, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York, http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWPK65ED&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915 |
Vandals broke in and what damage they did not do, weather
and vermin finished. The once elegant
sanctuary was in ruins when Spanish artist Angel Orsensanz stumbled across it. The oldest surviving synagogue structure in
Manhattan and the fourth-oldest in the country; it was on the verge of devastation.
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| photograph by Edmund V. Gillon, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York, http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWPK65ED&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915 |
The painter and sculptor purchased the derelict property in
1986 and converted it to an art gallery and performance space. The brick walls are now stucco-covered and
brightly painted. Inside much of the
architectural detail has been preserved, although like the façade, it has been brightened with a
spectrum of vivid hues. The building’s
original purpose has come to life again, as well, with the Shul of New York worshipping
below street level.
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| photo by Alice Lum |
The marvelous and nearly-lost historic building is tucked
away on little Norfolk Street where few New Yorkers have ever ventured.
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