No. 513 (left) receives restoration in June 2015 |
In 1766 the Road to Crown Point was a stately drive that ran
through the country estate of James de Lancey Jr. A year later, de Lancey renamed it Grand Street. Following the Revolutionary War and his
banishment as a Loyalist, de Lancey’s property was confiscated and later the
building lots were auctioned. By the
1810s and ‘20s, Grand Street saw the rise of modest working class homes,
including the two at Nos. 511 and 513.
In 1826 the property was purchased by James Lent and Henry
Barclay, his nephew. The well-respected men
were descended from New York’s oldest families.
They recognized the investment potential of the real estate that sat on
what was now a major east-west thoroughfare that terminated at the ferry
Brooklyn.
Had Lent and Barclay constructed two identical houses, each
would have been around 23-feet wide.
Instead they choose to give No. 511 the unusually ample width of 29.5
feet—leaving only 17 feet for No. 513.
Like its big brother next door, No. 513 was completed around 1827 and
most likely always had a shop on the first floor and living quarters
above. A single, centered dormer perched
above the roofline.
Among the first tenants to do business from the shop was P.
W. Frank & Co., a second-hand dealer.
In 1845 he paid $25 to the City for his license—a significant $800 in
today’s dollars. By 1848 the family of
Scottish immigrant Thomas S. Armstrong was living here; including Armstrong’s
German wife and their sons. A plumber by
trade, Armstrong was the first in what would be a plumbing tradition in the
house.
The Armstrongs had moved on by 1853 when another plumber George
B. Burn’s family moved in and he established his business here. He brought Emmet H. Smith into the operation
by 1858.
George B. Burn’s wife, Amelia, died in the little house on
Saturday evening, September 28, 1872. Her
funeral was held here at 1:30 on Tuesday, October1. Before long Emmet Smith took over the
plumbing business and would remain a neighborhood fixture at No. 513 Grand
Street for decades. His son, Alfred L.
Smith, became his partner and the operation was renamed E. H. Smith & Son.
advertisement from the brochure of the 1896 Conventin of the New York Protective Associations (copyright expired) |
To help pay the rent to the Barclay family, a room in the
tiny upstairs floor was rented. In 1873 the unmarried 6th Grade
teacher Emily Johnson lived here. She
was replaced by 1876 with another teacher, Martha J. Burn, who taught at
Primary School No. 20 on Broome Street.
Emmet H. Smith’s advertisements listed him as “plumber,
steam and gas fitter.” His reputation was
such that his good name was used for criminal purposes in 1881—a 19th
century version of identity theft.
In April that year James McLaughlin was arrested for
stealing a watch. He was being held at
$1,000 bail. A man arrived before Judge
Cowing, identifying himself a “Mr. Emmet H. Smith, a respectable plumber,” as
reported in The New York Times on June 11.
The schemer got Smith’s name and profession correct, but was off-base on
his location. He told the judge that he
did business at No. 57 Broome Street and “swore to the ownership of the house
and lot” there. On the guarantee that
the property was worth $8,000, McLaughlin was released.
When it came time for the trial, Emmet Smith was notified to
produce the accused in court. Dumbfounded, Smith pleaded ignorance to the entire
affair. Further investigation revealed
that a butcher, George Harrison, had received $20 to impersonate Smith and free
McLaughlin. He was arrested and sent to
State prison for five years. James
McLaughlin, on the other hand, had “left for parts unknown.”
Families continued to live in rented rooms upstairs. The Fair family lived here by 1898, when on
October 27, 72-year old Christopher Fair died here. William S. Fair was a house painter and his
family would remain in the building for more than two decades.
Two years later, on January 16, 1900, roomer Joseph
Lupperallo met with a gruesome death. He
was walking the railroad tracks of the New York, New Haven and Hartford
railroad near the Westchester station, unaware of an approaching locomotive
behind him. According to The Evening
World later that afternoon, “He did not see he train until the engine blew the
whistle. Then he turned and stood as
though petrified. He was badly mangled.”
Sixty-nine year old Matilda Haubeil was living here in 1902
when she, too, passed away. In the
meantime, Emmet and Alfred Smith continued to run their plumbing business
downstairs. Although the Smiths would still be
advertising as late as 1904; Jackson & Griffin, plumbers, listed No. 513 as
their address in 1901 and 1902.
By 1907 Emmet B. Smith & Son was no longer listed at No.
513. Now. R. J. Lacey’s plumbing
business was located here. On January 1
that year The Plumbers Trade Journal noted
that he “is making things move with a rush.
He is head over heels in contracts, one at 305-307 Monroe street, a
six-story stable costing $2,000 for plumbing, Weldon’s Soda Water Works of 374
Front street about $1,000, a tenement house at 57 Hester street, 534 W. 45th
street, a large building and Dr. Brown’s new place at 672 Water street.”
In 1921 the Barclay family sold No 513 Grand Street after
almost a century of ownership. It was
purchased by John W. Sheehan, who worked as a dispatcher for the New York City Fire
Department and lived across the street at No. 526 Grand Street. On July 24, 1921 the New-York Tribune reported
that Sheehan had quickly resold the building “to tenants who have occupied” it “for
many years.” The long-term tenant and
buyer was, of course, William S. Fair.
The title of No. 513 Grand Street passed to George
Bungay. A make of toilet preparations,
he ran his business from street level and lived upstairs until around
1937. When the house faced foreclosure
in 1942, it became property of the City, which sold it in 1944 to Angelina
Picerno.
Picerno renovated the house to what the Department of
Buildings described as “one apartment.”
The alterations, completed in 1948, created a two-story private home and
attic. Angelina Picerno’s architect
removed the old store front (while retaining the structurally-important stone
entablature), and reproduced a façade expected in a Federal-style residence.
The skinny little house survives, along with the
much-altered No. 511, as surprising relics of Manhattan’s working class
residential neighborhoods nearly two centuries ago.
photographs by the author
photographs by the author
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