In 1841 the handsome brick-faced house at No. 738 Broadway was owned by Isaac Jones. He and his wife, Mary Mason Jones, had moved into No. 734 Broadway in 1839. There Mary reigned as the queen of New York society in the years before the rise of socialites like Caroline Schermerhorn Astor and Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish.
James Westerfield leased No. 738 from Jones in the 1840s; but soon subtle changes were being seen in the neighborhood. The Protestant House of Mercy took over the house in 1855. On November 10, 1860 The New York Times remarked “Within its walls 187 girls and women have found refuge, and of this number 63 are believed to be doing well. Twenty were confirmed drunkards when they were received; six have died, and nine are married.”
Along with vice, commerce was inching up Broadway into the
once-refined residential neighborhood. Among
the first houses to fall to the new trend was No. 738. In 1866 real estate investor Augustus M.
Selden commissioned architects John Warren Ritch and Evan Griffiths to replace the house with an up-to-date loft and store building.
Completed in 1867, its five-story white marble Italianate façade was a
near match to other loft buildings being constructed further downtown. They would be the prototypes for dozens of cast
iron facades in the years to come.
 |
| The facade would reappear in cast iron in dozens of similar Soho structures. |
Around 30 years earlier Christopher O’Connor had arrived in
New York. He brought with him the
knowledge of billiard table construction at a time when the game was nearly unheard
of in the U. S. He founded a billiard
table manufacturing company and soon partnered with Hugh Collender,
creating O’Connor & Collender. Then in 1854 another Irish immigrant, Michael
Phelan was brought into the firm. Their
consistent improvements to the construction and action of the billiard table,
coupled with the fine craftsmanship and materials used, took the company to the
pinnacle of success.
After Phelan bought out O’Connor, the firm took the name Phelan
& Collender. Now it moved into the new building at No.
738 as its new “warerooms” and offices. The Great Industries of the United States wrote
“This new and admirably appointed warehouse, at 738 Broadway, New York, is five
stories in height, and covers a ground area of twenty-five feet wide by one
hundred and six in length, the first and second floors being for the business
offices and warerooms, the third for the ivory room, and the fourth for the
stock room.”
The company’s massive pool table factory engulfed the entire
block on Tenth Avenue between 36th and 37th Streets. According to The Great Industries of the United States, “From seven hundred to
one thousand billiard tables are here made in a year, besides an immense amount
of balls, markers, cues, etc.” There,
the same year that the Broadway building was completed, the firm constructed
one of its most magnificent pieces.
 |
| Across the front of the mammoth 10th Avenue factory reads "Ware Rooms 738 Broadway" Great Industries of the United States 1874 (copyright expired) |
On May 15, 1867 The New York Times reported that “Messrs.
Phelan & Collender forwarded yesterday to Gen. Grant, at Washington, a
superb billiard-table, which was ordered for his personal use when he was here.” The newspaper said that it was similar to the
others produced in the factory, “but in elegance of ornamentation we presume
this has never been approached.”
“The case is of solid blistered and highly polished black
walnut; at the joints are plates of gold; at the corners, gilded, are the arms
of the United States; on the sides, the General’s monogram; and at the ends a
gold plate with the patent and other formal inscriptions.” The high-end details extended to the
accessories as well. “The appointments
of the table are choice and tasteful.
The pockets are of silk netting, the cues white ash inlaid with black
walnut, the legs beautifully turned and ornamented like the body.”
While the firm put the value of the table at about $1,400
(nearly $23,000 today), the newspaper assumed it would be “a present from the
firm of whom Gen. Grant ordered a plainer and less expensive one.” The Times felt it necessary to comment on
Grant’s pool game, saying he was “by no means a brilliant operator, [but]
handles his cut very nicely for an amateur.”
 |
| The table depicted above in 1874 was one of the firm's more modest models. Great Industries of the United States 1874 (copyright expired) |
The game had taken hold and by now richly decorated
Victorian “pool saloons” had opened throughout the city--enough that later that year the proprietors
came together at Phelen & Collender’s offices to standardize the prices for
play. “Some of the room-keepers were in
favor of charging 75 cents per hour, but the majority thought that the better
policy would be to charge the same as in Boston, Washington and other cities
where the time system has been introduced, and it was thereupon resolved that
the price should be 60 cents,” reported The New York Times on August 23, 1867.
To solve the problem of space in middle-class homes and, no doubt, to end many a husband-and-wife disagreement, Phelan & Collender developed the "parlor billiard and dining table." Great Industries in the United States said that "by means of portable leaves and an easily-operated crank, it is made to subserve the purposes of the two tables in one."
The financial success of Phelan & Collender was
reflected in the loot stolen by burglars from the office safe here on July 15,
1869. In addition to the $205.50 in
cash were “a few diamond rings, valued at $500,” a gold and silver medal won at
the American Institute, another of solid gold presented by the State Society of
California, and a quantity of silver plate.
Also taken from the office was a solid silver and gold model of a steam engine,
valued at $2,000 and “kept as an ornament in the office” and a small silver billiard
table, worth $100. In total the thieves
made off with the equivalent of about $50,000 in plunder in today’s money.
In 1870 Michael Phelan, who came to America penniless with
his family when he was just seven, was wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. That summer he was sailing his yacht in New
York’s Lower Bay when the steamer Herald
ran full-steam into it. Phelan was
thrown overboard. The millionaire
billiard table manufacturer would never fully recover.
The Sun wrote a year later “Although able to be at his place
of business nearly every day, he was always suffering.” In September 1871 he was confined to bed and
within three weeks he died.
An accounting a few weeks afterward listed the physical
assets of the company at $79,345.62.
Hugh W. Collender agreed to pay $40,000 for his partner’s half
share. He rapidly changed the company
name to H. W. Collender.
 |
| An advertisement, shortly after the firm's name was changed, carefully depicted billiards as a respectable family pastime. The Tribune Almanac and Political Register, 1871 (copyright expired) |
When George F. Slosson beat world billiard champion M.
Vignaux in March 1882, Collender helped put together a nation-wide fund raising
push for him. The Times reported on
March 12 that “The friends and admirers of George F. Slosson have determined to
signalize his recent victory over Vignaux at billiards b y presenting him as
large a purse of money as can be raised by national contribution.” It added “H. W. Collender, No. 768 Broadway,
New-York City, will receive subscriptions for this purpose.”
Three years earlier Collender had merged his business with
that of J. M. Brunswick & Balke Company.
In 1884 they changed the names to the Brunswick-Balke-Collendar Company,
or simply the B.B.C. Co. By the second
half of the 20th century the Brunswick Corporation would be a
billion dollar conglomerate.
The massive Tenth Avenue Phelan & Collender factory was
destroyed by fire in 1883 and it appears that within the year Hugh Collender left
No. 738 Broadway and the business offices and showrooms were consolidated into
the J. M. Brunswick & Balke space at No. 724 Broadway.
In April 1885 the store and basement were leased to Henry V.
Allien & Co. for five years at an
initial rent of $3,000. A sword
cutler and military outfitter, since the end of the Civil War Allien & Co. made mostly ceremonial and
officer’s swords. Later that year Snowden & Bloch, leasing
space upstairs, paid $205 to have an iron bridge installed, connecting No. 738
to No. 47 Lafayette Place, directly behind.
The garment industry was beginning to engulf the
neighborhood by now and in 1891 the owner of No. 738, Frederick Bauer, hired architect
T. Englehardt to update the interiors; no doubt to attract potential commercial
tenants. The $500 in upgrading included
an elevator and when the second floor loft became available in 1895, the
improvements were obvious. An
advertisement in Clothiers’ and
Haberdashers’ Weekly promised “steam heat, electric light, rapid elevator,
etc.”
By 1893 the Saulson Cutting and Grading School had moved
in. Pointing out that “it is one of the
highest salaried professions,” the school advertised in The Sun on February 23
that year. “The cutting and grading of
gentlemen’s garments taught by an exact science; mathematicians and cutters can
be convinced of this fact by calling.”
In 1897 the building was filled with apparel firms,
including J. Bernard’s Sons, clothing manufacturers, on the third floor; Davidson & Blankfort; and Carl Buschner, manufacturer of "tassels and drapery" on the fourth floor. (Davidson & Blankfort was a gentlemen’s clothing manufacturer and in
the spring of that year their tailors walked out on strike.)
On July 27, 1898 fire broke out in J. Bernhard’s Sons
shortly before 8:00 at night. As
horse-drawn engines galloped up Broadway, the fire extended upwards into Carl
Buschner’s factory. The New York Times
reported “Two alarms were sent in, filling Broadway with fire engines, hose
carts, and hook and ladder wagons for two or three blocks and stopping cable
cars for more than half an hour.” The
resultant damage was $12,000 to stock, fixtures, and the building.
As the turn of the century came and went, Henry H. Roelofs
& Co., hat sellers, operated from the ground floor shop. J. Bernard’s Sons remained in the building
until 1903 when David W. Bernard filed for bankruptcy. The company was described at the time as “wholesale
dealers in Summer clothing.”
The Greenwald Display Fixture Company manufactured and sold “clothing
cabinets, wall cases, floor cases and general store equipment.” On July 12, 1910 “by mutual consent” partners
Isador Shafran and Harry Schwartz removed themselves from the company. Moie Greenwald continued the business here
using the same name. The following year
he “made connections with M. I. Himmel & Sons” of Baltimore to represent
their line as well.
The Clothier and Furnisher reported “One of the features of
their showing at 738 Broadway will be the all-in-sight wardrobe, which has the
revolving fixture, giving two hanging rods with the carrying capacity of 120
suits in a floor space of 7 feet by 4 feet.”
 |
| A sidewalk bridge is evidence of the last restoration touches in early 2015. |
Another fixture company, the See & Ell Clothing System,
moved into the second floor loft in 1912.
Upstairs, Morris Findlestein and Hillel Pinefsky operated their
Universal Clothing Company, making wearing apparel.
J. Wall was leasing the fourth floor of the building in 1920
when, on January 21 that year, he noticed a personal advertisement in The Sun
by “E. P. M.” The writer inquired as to
where “he could buy some very fine bethabera.”
The ad referred to the highly
elastic “Bethabera Wood” which a year earlier the Federal Reporter described as “of close texture, hard and resilient
and comes from British Guiana.” The wood
was imported into the United States solely for the purpose of making fishing
rods.
Wall immediately placed his own advertisement. “If he will call and see me some afternoon
between 2 and 4:30 o’clock I might spare a few pieces of choicest quality,
thoroughly seasoned. I am not a dealer,
but an amateur in making rods.”
By the time Bernard S. Deutsch purchased the building in
September 1926, the garment district was already moving out of the Broadway
neighborhood. The rental income that
year was $12,000, just under $160,000 today.
But there were still a few apparel firms hanging on.
S. Hindleman, a tailor, was in the building as the
Depression cast its pall over the nation.
And he seems to have been keeping his head above water. On April 1, 1932 the Society of Independent
Arts opened an exhibition in the Grand Central palace which was deemed an “anti-depression
strategy.” The idea was for struggling
artists to trade their artwork for goods and services in lieu of money.
The New York Times reported that the preview of the
exhibition “had not been on for an hour before the first barter was
effected. A modernistic drawing by A. S.
Baylinson, secretary of the society, was bought by S. Hindleman, a tailor of
738 Broadway, for a suit of clothes.”
Hindleman suggested to reporters that he “was beginning a
modern art collection and tentatively selected a half dozen other pictures.”
But before long there were no longer any apparel-related
firms in the building. In the late 1930s
Knickerbocker Crafts was here, developing photographic film. In 1938 it offered “Free de luxe album,
negative file and two enlargement coupons” with each order. Its advertisement promised “prompt service.”
The building was so damaged by fire in the spring of 1941 that
demolition seemed imminent. On May 15
William D. Kilpatrick purchased the charred structure, only to resell it the
following day. The Times noted that “as
part of the contract of sale the buyer agrees to erect at least a two-story
taxpayer on the site.”
But instead, the new owner repaired the damage and the
venerable marble building survived. It
was purchased by the American Bible Society a decade later.
In the 1980s the Noho neighborhood was rediscovered and
rusting cast iron buildings found new life as record shops, restaurants and trendy
stores moved in. No. 738 Broadway was
well-known to the New York University students for Buss & Co. on the first
floor. The store sold vintage clothing,
mostly army surplus, which New York Magazine termed “Surplus Chic.”
Artists and students moved into the former loft spaces
upstairs. One of them did not fit the
expected mold. Craig Medoff was a
32-year old investment banker who, in March 1992, was the suspect in a rape
case. Around 3:30 in the morning of
March 4 police officers knocked on his door.
Medoff opened the door “wearing shoes, pants and a military-issue
armored vest.” He had no intention of
going peacefully with the police.
Before the sun came up he was “charged with three counts of
attempted murder of police officers, first-degree rape, first-degree sodomy,
wearing a flak jacket in the commission of a crime and criminal possession of a
weapon,” reported The Times on March 5.
In 2013 the building was restored and converted to eight condominium
units by the Chetrit Group. Designed by
architect Karl Fischer with interiors by Andres Escobar, the apartments were
listed at between $6 and $7.5 million.
 |
| The lofts where cloaks and hats were once manufactured are unrecognizable. photograph http://www.738broadway.com/ |
Today the building where wealthy gentlemen shopped for
high-end billiard tables may be a bit overly-restored for some; however its
survival on this remarkable block of Broadway is a delight.
non credited photographs by the author
No comments:
Post a Comment