photo by Nyjockboy2 |
As the 19th century inched closer to the 20th,
New Yorkers embraced the exciting modern age that gave them the phonograph,
electric lights and telegraph. But the
advances in construction, like the elevator and steel-framed construction which
allowed buildings to rise ever higher, were causing some concern.
On October 8, 1896 Engineering
News reported “The rage for phenomenally high office-buildings still
continues unchecked in New York city, and there seems to be at present some
rivalry here as to who shall build the highest structure.” The journal turned its attention to “the
highest building thus far designed in New York city,” the Park Row
Building. Slated to replace the old
International Hotel opposite the leviathan Post Office, it would rise 26
stories with two four-story towers at the corners.
“This will be an office building, with stores on the street
floor, and a restaurant at the top,” explained the paper. The office of architect R. H. Robertson had
already released water color drawings which depicted a soaring tower that
diminished the structures around it. A
building nearly 30 stories tall created a problem for both the architect and
the engineer. Robertson was charged with
creating a visually-appealing edifice that required the viewer to
unaccustomedly crook his neck backward to take in all in; and the engineer,
Nathan Roberts, had to figure out how to support the mammoth weight. There was also the problem of the plot; what Engineering News called “very irregular.”
Robertson attempted to reduce the visual height of the Park
Row Building by dividing it vertically into three sections, and horizontally into
six. He drew the eye to the central
section by lavishing it with ornamentation.
Balconies, cornices, columns and sculptures broke up the vast
surfaces. The copper-crowned cupolas of
the corner towers created the final touch and would be seen by ships entering
the harbor and as far away as New Jersey.
Somewhat strangely, Robertson focused attention only to the Park Row façade;
leaving the other elevations essentially blank.
More was made in the press about the engineering of the
building than its design (perhaps luckily for Robertson—the New-York Tribune would call the
structure “hideous but daring”).
Especially noteworthy was the foundation necessary to uphold the 6,316,000-ton
structure. “Many acres of good timber
had to be cut to furnish the thousands of great pine piles, many of them forth
feet long, that were driven into the sand of the site to support the monster,”
reported the Tribune.
The skyscraper seems to have been mostly conceived by
politician William Mills Ivins, who purchased the site. He then transferred title to a syndicate, the
Park Row Construction Company. Years after its completion New Yorkers would often call it
the Ivins Syndicate Building. But
William Ivins’s association with the project would be short-lived. Millionaire August Belmont held the majority
interest in the Park Row Construction Company and he suggested that Ivins
retire early on. It was the first of many incidents of drama that would surround the Park Row Building.
Construction began on October 20, 1896 and would continue
for three years—partly because of labor problems and strikes that sporadically stopped progress.
The Park Row Building diminished its neighboring structures. To the left is a portion of the Post Office -- photograph Library of Congress |
By March 24, 1898 the Park Row Building was topped off and
that day an American flag was unfurled from its highest point. “Several hundred persons watched with eager
interest while a professional steeple climber made his perilous ascent to the
towering height,” reported The New York Times.
“He climbed the pole with the flag on his shoulders, and, after making
it fast, proceeded to paint the staff.
The watching crowd cheered lustily as the National colors unfolded, and
continued to gaze at the daring painter as long as he remained in sight.”
As the building neared completion leases were signed. On Christmas Eve 1898 the Astor
House Pharmacy rented one of the ground floor stores. Somewhat surprisingly, while Park Row was the
center of the newspaper industry, many of the new tenants would be from unrelated
areas. On January 20, 1899 the City
leased four entire floors to house the Department of Bridges, the Department of
Street Cleaning, the Water Department, the Bureau of Encumbrances, the
executive officers of the public baths, the Bureau of Public Buildings and
Offices, the Commissioners of Public works, and the Bureau of Sewers.
The 391-foot tall Park Row Building opened its doors on July
20, 1899. The New-York Tribune wrote “A skyscraper
of this magnitude will have its own electric light plant; a gas plant;
waterworks system; artesian wells; fire department, with hose lines and
chemical extinguishers; its own police department too, with detectives watching
for petty thieves, pickpockets, beggars and peddlers.” The newspaper noted that its height is “about
seventy feet less than the Great Pyramid of Cheops.”
The skyscraper had cost $2.4 million to construct and was
now the tallest building in the world. Scientific American boasted “This modern
building…will accommodate the floating population of a fair-sized country town…There
are in the whole building 950 separate offices.” The magazine estimated the number of persons
in the building at any period of the day at 8,000. “If we assume that on an average five persons
would call at each office during the day, for each person employed, we get a
total of about 25,000 souls making use of the building at the course of every
working day of the year.”
This shot clearly shows the absence of ornamentation in the rear and side elevations -- photograph Library of Congress |
It would not be long before the building’s long history of
drama began. The syndicate signed a
one-year contract with the Ice Trust to deliver 1,000 pounds of ice daily. The Trust enjoyed what The Evening World
called “powerful connections with Tammany Hall” and assumed it automatically
had a long-term deal.
When the contract expired on June 1, 1900 the syndicate put
out bids to other ice suppliers. The
Evening World explained that the Ice Trust believed that through its ties to Tammany
Hall “it could get the ice privilege without a contract [and] refused to bid.”
But the proprietor of the restaurant in the building, which
had its own ice plant, won the contract. The
only tenants he could not supply were the city agencies. The Ice Trust had a binding contract with
Tammany Hall to supply ice to all city departments. Therefore, starting on June 1, 1900 the Trust
dumped 500 pounds of ice on the sidewalk every day. “In the meantime the city employees have been
drinking warm water, and are very indignant,” said The World on June 8, 1900.
Among its hundreds of respectable tenants, the Park Row
Building seemed to attract bunko agents and shady characters. On November 20, 1901 detectives raided Room
711 where brokers Grey & Co. ran a “bucket-shop” scam. Two years later a massive swindling operation
was conducted here by James B. Kellogg, described by The Evening World on March 6, 1903 as “the suave, get-rich-quick
concern promoter.” Kellogg used aliases
to rent multiple offices in the building. These included E. E. Rice & Co. in
room 2033, “Colonel Wilcox, in room 2023, and “Charles Pearson & Co., room
2033. He ran seven other companies from
offices here before being arrested.
Then on May 21, 1904 readers of the New-York Tribune were
shocked to read of an illegal gambling operation in the building. “Another surprising raid was in the Park Row
or Syndicate Building…which Douglas Robinson, brother-in-law of President
Theodore Roosevelt, is the manager.
Twenty prisoners were captured and thirty-three telephones and three
telegraph instruments ripped away from their fastenings and carried off by the
police.”
Artist J. Massey Rhind executed the sculptural details Scientific American, December 24, 1898 (copyright expired) |
At the time of the raid, the Associated Press had its
offices here as did the Legal Department of the New York City Railway Company. The executive offices of the Interborough
Street Railway Company (of which August Belmont was president), and the Metropolitan
Street Railway offices were also in the building.
In 1907 politician Percy Nagle’s offices were in the
building. Campaigning was an especially contentious
that year and one day in September Nagle was approached in a restaurant by a
concerned friend. He warned Nagle that
another politician, Joseph L. Burke, “says he is going to kill you. You want to look out for him.” Nagle brushed off the warning.
On the afternoon of September 27 Nagle and some friends were
standing in the corridor of the Park Row Building when Burke appeared with a
number of men. The two men exchanged
heated words, followed by Burke’s striking Nagle. A miniature riot ensued in the hallway and one of
Burke’s men suggested they “shoot the dub.”
Suddenly Nagle felt the muzzle of a revolver at his neck and
heard a loud click. The gun had
jammed. “Nagle turned white and grabbed
the revolver,” reported the New-York Tribune the following day. “A crowd soon surged around the men and
hurried the combatants from the building.”
Edgar H. Holbrook, a life insurance salesman, had either
very bad luck or a death wish. On
January 8, 1898 he fell from the New York Life Insurance Building. He survived that fall. Now, on Wednesday August 31, 1910 he visited
the Park Row Building on business. The
New-York Tribune wrote “It is not known how he came to be either on the roof or
the twenty-sixth floor.”
Holbrook plunged from the 26th floor, landing on
the roof of the six-story building next door.
His body “was so badly crushed as to be unrecognizable. The man’s terrible death caused many
stenographers and other women employes in the tall building to become
hysterical.”
In gruesom detail the newspaper said “In the drop of more
than 500 feet Holbrook’s body acquired a terrific momentum, and when it struck
the top of the elevator shed it crashed through a heavy iron screen, a sheet of
heavy glass and some half-inch planking.
“These obstacles were not sufficient to prevent Holbrook’s
body from dropping on top of the elevator drum, which was in motion at the
time. The body was so mangled that it
became wedged tightly in the elevator machinery and stopped it.”
When the Park Row Building had first opened, Professor
Herschel C. Parker of Columbia University, an amateur mountain climber, suggested
that the facade could be climbed. He
compared the building to the Matterhorn’s cliffs and ledges. “They are as awful to scale as the outside of
the Park Row Building would be.”
Nearly two decades later the professor’s prediction was put
to the test. On May 26, 1918 41-year old
Harry H. Gardiner, who went by the professional name “the Human Fly,” started
up the building. A reporter
from The Evening World described him as “an aviator by profession and that being a
Human Fly is simply a side line.”
Gardiner’s climb was for the benefit of the American Red Cross.’
Harry Gardiner would be arrested for his skyscraper climbing today. photo The Evening World, May 27, 1918 (copyright expired) |
Fifty-thousand crammed the streets around noon as Harry
continued upward. Harry was annoyed when
firemen appeared and unfolded a large leather net. "But people in the windows above began
showering money down into the net—contributions for the Red Cross."
Gardiner was not content with reaching the roof. He continued up the flagpole until he had
touched the golden ball at its tip. When
he returned to street level two hours after he had begun, he told the crowd “I
have done my bit; now see to it that you do yours,” nudging the onlookers to
contribute to the cause.
Suicides by jumping made the newspapers over the decades;
but none would be so publicized—or questioned—as that of known anarchist Andrea
Salsedo. Accused of bomb making, Salsedo
was arrested on March 7, 1920 and secretly held in the Department of Justice’s
14th floor offices. Nearly
two months later he was still confined here, until his body was found smashed
on the sidewalk on May 3.
Officials claimed Salsedo feared retaliation by other
anarchists. The Tribune explained on May
4 “It was said that Salsedo had expressed the belief shortly after his arrest
and confession in March that he would be killed by persons whose names he had
mentioned in his account of the bomb plots.”
His wife was not so sure.
On January 4, 1921 Maria Salsedo filed suit to recover $100,000 in
damages. She said that during his eight
weeks confinement he “was beaten, threatened and abused, and that the treatment
he received broke him down mentally and physically and finally drove him to
kill himself.” There were others who
felt the death was not a suicide at all; but that the anarchist had been thrown
to his death.
By 1929 the Park Row Building had lost its luster. Its title of tallest building in the world was
lost in 1908 and by now other skyscrapers surrounded it. The architectural firm of Clinton &
Russell was commissioned to do a facelift of the lower floors. The ploy succeeded for decades until at the
turn of the 21st century it was once again just an outdated building
that was not producing financially.
In 2000 a gut renovation was begun that converted the main
building to apartments. The commodious
three-story cupolas were not included in the plan. Until 2013.
Then they were offered as part of a single massive apartment including the 26th
and 27th floors, a large private terrace and two balconies. The price for the unfinished space, reported to
be one of the largest penthouses ever offered in Manhattan, was a significant
$20 million.
The three-story cupolas are part of the expansive penthouse, which includes an original elevator cage. NYCurbed.com |
The exterior of the Park Row Building is little changed since the 1929
remodeling. Although no longer the stand-out
it was in 1899; it is an important pioneer of the skyscraper age in New York
City.
many thanks to reader P. Alsen for suggesting this post
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