One of the first of the high-end residences on Chambers
Street between Broadway and Church Streets to succumb to commerce was the
mansion of Dr. David Hosack at No. 97.
The doctor, deemed by The New York Times as “one of the most skillful
and widely known of New-York physicians,” had been the attending physician at
the duel between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr in 1804.
Dr. Hosack’s “magnificent” mansion and property ran through
the block to Reade Street. In 1857 his
estate demolished the house and began construction on a modern loft building—one
of the first in the formerly exclusive neighborhood. The unknown architect designed a five-story
Italianate structure faced in sandstone.
The elegant façade featured classic pediments over the openings and
Palladio-inspired grouped windows at the center of each story. A pressed-metal cornice with foliate brackets
crowned the structure.
Completed in 1858, the building quickly filled with drygoods
merchants. Among the first were Dibblee, Work & Moore; George C. Wood; Leonard D.
Atwater; and Burnham, Plumb & Co.—all of which were here by in 1859.
For three days in 1863, beginning on July 13, New York City
was terrorized by what would become known as the Draft Riots. The largest civil and racial uprising in United
States history, it resulted in at least 120 murders, 2,000 injuries, and no
fewer than 50 buildings—including churches and an orphanage—burned to the
ground. The carnage and vandalism was
city-wide, including Chambers Street. Burnham, Plumb & Co. occupied the ground
floor of No. 97 Chambers, making its store vulnerable to attack. A few months later J. M. Plumb claimed
$191.12 in damages—in the neighborhood of $3,720 in 2016.
At the time of the Draft Riots the hoop skirt had taken
control of women’s fashions. A complex,
collapsible frame supported yards of fabric spilling into a great circle from
the feminine waist to the floor. By 1865
Wests, Bradley & Cary had its “duplex elliptic hoop-skirt” warehouse on the
upper floors of the building.
On Sunday, July 2 that year all the workers in the hoop
skirt factory went on their annual “picnic excursion.” Between 10 and 11:00 on that night fire was
discovered bursting from a fifth floor window on the Reade Street side.
The location was too high for Civil War period steam fire
engines “and it was manifest that the fifth floor of the building must be
consumed,” reported The New York Times.
Fire fighters focused on deluging the fourth floor and dragging their
hoses to the roofs of adjacent buildings to douse the roof.
The Times reported that “platoons of policemen from their
respective precincts” were on the ground controlling crowds and preventing
looters. Among these officers was
Mortimer Downing who was stationed at the Chambers Street side door. He was instructed by Captain Greer “to admit
no person without a badge.” It was an
order that would unexpectedly result in problems.
Assistant Fire Marshall Henry O. Baker arrived on the scene
in street clothes; having neglected to grab his shield. The Times would later report “as Mr. Baker
had forgotten that important adjunct, Patrolman Downing thrust him from the
building, using, however, a baton that he need not have drawn.” Indeed, Downing had given the assistant marshal a substantial jab in the ribs with his baton to induce his exit.
When the fire was finally extinguished, Wests, Bradley &
Cary had suffered a staggering $100,000 in damage to its “heavy stock of skirts
and materials,” as had Dibblee, Work & Moore and Burnham, Plumb & Co.
on the ground floor. Two days later The Times noted “The building,
which is owned by N. P. Hossack [sic], Esq., and insured for $60,000, can
hardly be repaired for $5,000.”
Twelve days later the newspaper followed up on the
Downing-Baker incident. “Officer
Mortimer Downing was required to answer for unnecessary violence in ejecting
Assistant Fire-Marshal Henry O. Baker, of Harlem, from No. 97 Chambers-street,
at the time of a fire therein.” The
policeman’s representative put the best spin he could on the episode. “Our officer may have been a little rough,
but it was his duty to protect property at that fire, and he appears to have
executed his orders; but his manner of doing this was, perhaps, not the best.”
Things were back to normal at No. 97 Chambers Street within
the year. On May 9, 1866 Wests, Bradley
& Cary advertised its newest skirt, “the celebrated Empress Trail.” The firm’s ad in the New-York Tribune
promised it “is the most beautiful and agreeable skirt ever worn, being
particularly adapted to the present fashionable style of dresses.” Their hoops, they boasted, “will not bend or
break like the Single Springs. They are
acknowledged by all Ladies throughout the length and breadth of the land, to be
the most perfect and agreeable skirt ever invented, and unequaled in Elegance,
Elasticity, Lightness, Durability, Comfort and Economy.”
By the last quarter of the century the dry goods and apparel
firms had left the area. By 1889 W. B.
Fox & Bros., a hardware and builders’ supply company, was in the
building. The firm, which would remain
here for decades, was looking for a new employee on September 10, 1895. An ad in Hardware
read: “By a prominent Hardware house, a first-class clerk who understands the
builders’ department, competent to take a leading position.” The advertisement insisted the candidate have
a “good address and [be] able to give the very highest references.”
When the Steadman Stationery Company was organized in
January 1889, it opened in No. 97 Chambers.
Although it started with an impressive capital of $30,000; the store suffered
financial problems before too long. On
October 18, 1892 the Sheriff took possession of the store after Manley A.
Ruland executed his promissory note of $2,020.
(The store survived the setback and was still here a decade later.)
More successful was the Brown Developing Company. The firm drew attention in February 1893 when
it began tests on its new Crematory Furnace.
The device was invented to improve the disposal of garbage in large
cities. Iron Age reported on March 1
that during a test to incinerate Boston garbage, “the temperature at the head
end of the furnace was 2500 degrees, at the rear end 1800.”
Surpless, Dunn & Alder was also in the building at the
time. The firm was the selling agent for
a wide range of manufacturers, including the Syracuse Specialty Mfg. Co.,
makers of Star Lawn Rakes; the Nes Chain Mfg. Company of York, Pennsylvania;
and the Farmer’s Friend Mfg. Company of Dayton, Ohio. Another hardware-related firm in the building
in 1893 was The Chicago Spring Butt Company, which made the Uncle Sam Hanger (for
sliding doors).
The New Idea Lawn Mower, made by Dayton-based Farmer's Friend Mfg. Co., was available through Surpless, Dunn & Alder in 1893. The Iron Age, March 23, 1893 (copyright expired) |
By now the bicycle fad had taken America by storm. No. 97 was home in the 1890s to
Allerton-Clarke Company, representatives of the Lovell Wrench Company in
Bridgeport, Connecticut. That firm’s
Lovell Bicycle Wrench was a must-have for "wheelers" and was touted by The Iron
Age on October 22, 1896 as “made of best steel and case hardened.”
The C. F. Guyon Company “which deals in hardware and
bicycles,” according to The New York Times, was here by 1895. The newspaper noted “the company represents sixteen
manufacturers of hardware in various parts of the country, and also handles the
goods of the Monarch Cycle Company of Chicago.”
Bertha Windle worked as a saleswoman in the store. During the first week of January 1898 she went to
the woodshed behind her home on Kingston Avenue in Brooklyn to retrieve her
bicycle. To her shock the shed had been
broken into and her bike was gone. “When
she discovered that the wheel had been stolen she informed the police,” wrote
The New York Times a week later.
Bertha's bicycle would have looked like this 1897 model. Outing Advertisements 1897 (copyright expired) |
Although Bertha most likely got an employee discount on her
Monarch bicycle; the retail price of between $85 and $100 would be equal to a
substantial $2,500 to $3,000 today. But while she lamented the loss of her
bicycle, Brooklyn cops were on the case.
The thief, 35-year old John Dougherty headed to his home at
No. 350 North 2nd Street in Brooklyn. The sight of a grown man on a woman’s bicycle
raised the suspicion of Policeman Clark of the Bedford Avenue Police
Station. He chased Doughtery down and
brought him in for questioning.
The suspect said he found the bike and declined to give any
further information. Detectives refused
to give up. They canvassed every bicycle
store in Brooklyn and then turned their attention to Manhattan. On Saturday
January 8. Bertha Windle was no doubt overjoyed
when the investigators entered Guyon Company.
The Times reported on “they found the owner for the wheel.”
In May 1898 another bicycle-related firm took space in the building. The Hartford Rubber Works Co. made tires not
only for bicycles, but for automobiles.
A moving notice in The Sun on May 8 promised “Our new plant is equipped
with every appliance for the care of our tires and we are now in a position to
give our many local patrons better service than ever before.”
J. Newcomb Blackman was in the bicycle business; but he
became more interested in the invention of his friend, Thomas Alva Edison. On May 1, 1902 he established the Blackman
Talking Machine Co. with his wife, Ada.
Initially the firm was the exclusive wholesale outlet for Victor
products. The Victrola-selling concern
would make strange bedfellows with his the bicycle and automobile firms that
were filling the building.
Blackman Talking Machines carried this paper label in 1907. |
In the meantime, Robert P. Parker, manager of the Hartford
Rubber Works office was possibly shocked when $700 was missing from the
accounts of his cashier, Clara Schillinz, in January 1904. Clara lived on Staten Island and had worked in
the office for a more than a year.
Whether he was shocked or not, Parker was obviously outraged. He had Clara arrested for grand
larceny on the night of January 15. The
Times reported “Miss Schillinz was locked up in the Mercer Street Station.”
The type of tenant at No. 97 Chambers Street continued to
change. Like Hartford Rubber,
automobile-related firms continued to take space. In 1913 the National Automobile Supply Co.
took the first floor store; and in 1915 the Thirty-Five Per Cent Automobile
Supply Company moved in.
Individual consumers in the market for a Victrola in 1919 were possibly
disappointed when J. Newcomb Blackman announced on May 1 that his firm would no
longer offer the Victor products at retail.
“The business of the Blackman company will hereafter be conducted at
wholesale exclusively,” he said.
Nevertheless, the Blackman Talking Machine Company continued to do
business from No. 97 Chambers Street.
Baker, Murray & Imbrie, Inc. was a major retailer of
sporting goods. Its broad array of
merchandise included fishing tackle, guns and rifles, camping equipment under
the brand name “Abercrombie’s Camp,” and golf and tennis goods. In April 1920 it moved is massive retail
operation from Warren Street to the Chambers Street building.
Two years later it got in on the bicycle business by adding
Emblem Bicycles to its stock. The average
cost of a bike was now about $50; a significant drop from the days when Bertha
Windle purchased hers.
Baker, Murray & Imbrie announced its addition of Emblem Bicycles in Motorcycle Illustrated on April 22, 1922 (copyright expired) |
Although Ambercrombie tents were still available here in
1957; most of the early 20th century tenants were gone. Blackman Talking Machine Co. went out of business
in 1932; replaced by Charles Holtz’s “haberdasher” store. In the second half of the century, as the
Tribeca block became a bit seedy, the building became home to an entirely new
type of tenants.
In 1959 Cetra Record Distributing Company moved in, and in
1966 Chambers Record Corp. was here. In
July the following year Arrow Electronics, Inc. moved into the building,
claiming to have “the newest and most modern showroom in the city.”
As the century drew to a close Tribeca was
rediscovered. The 19th
century shop front, which had survived 134 years, was destroyed to be replaced
by plate glass and metal. In October
2003 a renovation was completed which resulted in four “loft dwellings” per
floor above the new store.
The elegant design of the upper floors survives beautifully
intact. After more than a century and a
half No. 97 Chambers Street is a graceful reminder of the first steps taken to
transform this residential block into a bustling commercial hive.
photographs by the author
Cannot believe that unfortunate storefront dates from 2003. Looks like a misguided renovation from 1963 instead. Awful and appalling that NYC loses so much historic fabric and it often goes completely unnoticed
ReplyDeleteYou would have thought that by 2003 architects were more sensitive to historic fabric! You are right. It looks like a mid-century mistake, not a 21st century one.
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