The store level, where expensive gold watches were sold for around a century, is now a Chinese food market. |
Life for James de Lancey Jr. was good in the 18th century—at least for half of it. In addition to his elegant home in town, he owned land in Westchester County and a country estate north of the city. His problems started when the seeds of revolution germinated in the 1760s.
Unwilling to choose a side, de Lancey straddled the
political fence. In 1768 he secured a
seat in the New York Assembly by winning the support of the Sons of Liberty who
rallied against British control. In the
meantime, he rubbed shoulders with the Crown, meeting secretly and assuring his
loyalty.
It all ended badly for de Lancey in February 1775 when he
was exposed as a loyalist. By May he had
been expelled from New York, never to return.
But before his world crumbled, he had lived the life of
Manhattan aristocracy. In the mid-18th
century, he laid out an exceptionally wide drive through his estate—beginning at
a formal square and running to the East River.
It was a stately lane that reflected his wealth and importance.
On March 6, 1777 the Provincial Congress appointed
Commissioners to “take into their custody & possession all the personal
property” of loyalists. In 1785 all the
de Lancey property was auctioned off—grossing about $50,000. Beginning in 1810 deeds for building lots
were sold along de Lancey’s broad lane—now called Grand Street because of its
unusual width. By the 1820s brick-faced
Federal style homes appeared on the block of Grand Street between First Street
(later renamed Chrystie) and the Bowery.
Among these was the free-standing house at No. 247. Like most of its neighbors, it was
two-and-a-half stories tall and clad in Flemish bond red brick. One or two dormers would have penetrated its
peaked roof. The space between it and
No. 245 next door was most likely a “horse-walk”—the passageways that led to
the yards behind where small outbuildings or stables were located.
The width of Grand Street would contribute to its becoming a
major shopping thoroughfare later in the century. It appears that if No. 247 did not always
have a shop on the first floor, one was in place by 1848. J. D. Cromwell listed his address here when
in November that year he was awarded a silver medal at the Fair of the American
Institute for “best Boys and Children’s Clothing.”
The house, along with No. 245, became property of John Henry
Heller. The Heller family lived upstairs
in No. 247. John H. Heller and Anthony
Imberry ran their watch and jewelry store at No. 231 Grand Street. They had gone into business in 1837; but
problems developed between the two which apparently resulted J. D. Cromwell
now looking for a new store location.
On October 12, 1850 the New-York Tribune ran a notice that
as of October 1, “the copartnership heretofore existing between Anthony Imberry
& John H. Heller, watch makers and jewelers, is this day dissolved by
mutual consent.” The announcement told
patrons that Heller would continue the business, now located at No. 247.
Meanwhile the Heller family continued to live in the rest of the
house. In 1857 John Henry Albert Heller,
Jr. had enrolled in the introductory class of the New-York Free Academy. He would be followed there by his brother, Charles
Augustus Heller in 1869. Charles
enrolled in the “commercial class.” William
Heller appears to have been learning his father’s trade at the time. In the meantime, Bayard H. J. Heller was
drafted into the Union Army on March 30, 1865.
John Henry Heller’s jewelry store saw phenomenal success. His income of $5,272 in 1865 doubled in 1866
to $10,468 according to the District Assessor.
That would amount to about $160,000 today.
Heller offered more to his customers by leasing part of the
ground floor to Isaac D. Noe’s silver plating operation. Noe lived in Brooklyn and was working in the
Grand Street space by 1873. He stayed here
for at least two years offering “silver-plating fixtures, &c.”
William S. Heller joined the business by 1874, listing
himself as “jeweler.” But in 1876 when
the firm name was John H. Heller & Son, the “son” was John H. Heller,
Jr. Within three years, the business was
renamed John H. Heller, Jr. following the death of the John Henry Heller, Sr.
Only John, Jr.'s name appeared in ads by 1879 -- Puck magazine, December 17, 1879 (copyright expired) |
The electro-plating business sharing space with the jewelry
store was run by H. B. Lubbert now. In
1884 he advertised both gold and silver plating.
In 1881 Charles Heller was still living with the extended
family upstairs. But after John Henry Heller moved his family to Brooklyn, at
No. 493 Flatbush Avenue, in 1889, it appears that all the Hellers were gone for good
from Grand Street.
John retained possession of No. 247 and it was about this
time that the attic was raised to a full floor and the updated brownstone and pressed
metal trim and cornice were installed.
The architect deftly disguised the addition with a bandcourse; however
close inspection of the brickwork reveals the alteration.
A course of brownstone cleverly hides the alteration. But close inspection of the brickwork tells the tale. |
Heller retired from the jewelry business and the store
became home to J. Hess’s jewelry store.
Hess lived across the street at No. 276 Grand. In 1892 he spent $500 on interior alterations
designed by architects Horenburger and Straub.
In 1893 Hess advertised an "immense stock" -- The Evening World, December 8, 1893 (copyright expired) |
Upstairs Alexander Straschum was living, at least from 1893 to 1895. Exactly how he made his living is unclear; but in the summer of 1895 the Board of Aldermen resolved that he was “permitted to keep stand at No. 247 Grand street.”
In 1893 John Henry Heller, Jr. sold the building next door
at No. 245 for a staggering
$100,000, according to New York State court documents—nearly $2.7 million today. The
buyer, William Cohen, had occupied the property for two decades. Heller continued to hold on to No. 247,
however, and still owned it when he died in 1902.
By now, although H. B. Lubbert was still running his silver
plating concern here, the Hess jewelry shop was gone. It was replaced by H. Levy’s tailor
shop. On July 8, 1901 The Tammany Times
reported that Levy “calls attention to the fact that he has completed
arrangements with a large cloth concern for an unfadable Indigo blue. Mr. Levy has for years made 50 per cent of the
police uniforms in this city and therefore this statement should bear some
weight.”
While Levy stitched together police uniforms, Lubbert had 19
employees in his silver plating shop—2 men, 16 women and one girl under 16
years of age.
The Grand Street neighborhood was drastically different from
the time when John Henry Heller purchased No. 247 before the Civil War. In 1912 when the estate of Mary A. Astor Woodcock
had B. W. Berger & Son renovate the “3-story store and dwelling” with new
walls and windows, the area had filled with Italian immigrants. In 1939, as the city finally emerged from the
Great Depression, The New York Times described the building as a “three-story
tenement.” It was sold that year for a
mere $35,000.
The ground floor where gold and silver-cased watches had
been sold for decades was now a restaurant run by the Marin family. But Grand Street was on the verge of yet
another change.
Chinatown was rapidly encroaching on the Italian district. By the late 20th century the signs
at street level were in Chinese, including those at No. 247. Today a Chinese market operates here while
upstairs, as has been the case since the Hess family left, small apartments are
rented. Overall, little has changed to
the outward appearance of the unusual free-standing house since the late 19th
century renovation.
photographs by the author
photographs by the author
This building was occupied by my great great grandfather Domenico Trimarco in the late 1890s. He ran his clothing business there for many years. He died of a stroke in 1906. His sons Giovanni “Charlie” Trimarco and Vincenzo Trimarco renamed the business “Trimarco Bros.” and ran their business there for many decades, doing very well. At one point they expanded to 245 next door as well. I have a photo from the 1920s of them standing outside this building, looking very similar today. Unfortunately someone very recently altered the appearance of the building, removing the cornice and some of the window decorations. I reached out to the owner, but was unable to find out where those pieces went. Hopefully they didn’t go in the trash. Why someone would remove the beautiful cornice defies logic.
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