King Street, named for Founding Father and member of the Continental Congress Rufus King, was laid out in 1817 by John Jacob Astor I on the former country estate of Aaron Burr, Richmond Hill. He began erecting houses along the block between MacDougal and Varick Street in the mid-1820s.
Unlike those Federal style homes, 20 King Street (which was not erected until 1841), was designed in the Greek Revival style. Three stories of red brick sat upon a brownstone English basement. The elegant doorway--with paneled pilasters and leaded sidelights and transom--sat within the expected Greek Revival framework of engaged stone columns upholding a heavy entablature.
William Morrison, Jr. occupied the house in 1845. He was in the "thread and needles" business at 573 Broadway, and it appears he rented 20 King Street. By 1851, when George G. Coffin lived here, Morrison had moved down the block to 44 King Street.
Coffin, who was a clerk in the Post Office downtown, remained until about 1855, when Hugh Martin purchased the house. Martin owned a boot and shoe operation at 192 Broadway. Living with him and his wife Sarah were their daughters Mary E. and Caroline.
On March 26, 1863, Caroline was married to Thomas D. Sloane in the Scotch Presbyterian Church on West 14th Street. Sloane was in the ribbons business on Canal Street. Caroline remained in her parents' house with her new husband.
What was supposed to have been a joyous occasion was the exact opposite when Mary E. Martin died on her 30th birthday on July 31, 1865. Her casket sat in the parlor until her funeral on August 2.
In the summer of 1867, New York was experiencing a glut of crimes on public transportation. On August 18, the New York Herald began an article saying, "Again the same old story--two or three young men obstructing the platform of a city railroad car and robbing the passengers." The night before, at about 11:00, Hugh Martin had become the latest victim. While attempting to board an Eighth Avenue streetcar at the corner of 29th Street, he was "rudely jostled by two or three stout young men." They made off with Martin's pocketbook containing $48 in cash (about $980 in 2024), a safe key and valuable papers. By the time Martin realized what had happened, the men had escaped and "left no trace behind."
The parlor of 20 King Street was again the scene of a funeral on August 18, 1870. Caroline and Thomas Sloane's young daughter, Carrie Hannah, contracted diphtheria and died here on August 16.
Hugh Martin sold 20 King Street in 1873 to George H. and Sarah E. Shear. George listed his occupation as a carman--the driver of a delivery wagon--however his ability to purchase the property suggests he owned the cartage business. Living with the couple in 1873 was Anderson Shear, presumably George's brother, who was also listed as a carman.
As was common, the Shears took in a boarder. In 1873 and '74 it was John Taff, a cutter in a garment factory, and in 1876 and 1877, it was Charles Cottier, a dealer in gold.
George and Sarah had a son, Oscar, in August 1876. Sadly, the little boy died just after his second birthday on September 13, 1878. His funeral was held in the parlor the following day.
It appeared the Shears would lose their home in 1899 when the city announced plans to extend Sixth Avenue from Minetta Lane to Canal Street. The project would cut a wide swath through Greenwich Village. On the list of properties "within the lines of [the] proposed Sixth Avenue Extension," published in the Record & Guide on February 11 was 20 King Street. Happily for the house, the project was pushed off until 1925 and the new route skirted the property by a matter of feet.
After having owned 20 King Street for more than three decades, George H. and Sarah E. Shear sold the property to Nichola de Francesco Mileo on November 22, 1906 for $12,800 (about $430,000 today). The neighborhood was now heavily populated by Italian immigrant families. It appears Mileo operated 20 King Street as a boarding or rooming house for years.
Living here in 1920 was Marie Caruso, the estranged wife of James Caruso, who claimed to be the cousin of operatic star Enrico Caruso. Like the renowned tenor, both Carusos were musicians. James Caruso was a "piano composer," according to The Sun, which added that Marie "also is an accomplished musician."
While Marie lived in the King Street house, her husband lived at 2011 First Avenue. She had begun separation proceedings, charging her husband with abandonment and failing to support her, but then seems to have changed her mind. On September 21, 1920, The Sun said her lawyer had "proposed that they become reconciled." James's response was, perhaps, not what Marie expected. He told a reporter, "If it's a choice of living with my wife or death, give me death."
Marie's name was back in the newspapers six months later. Also living at 20 King Street was the family of Louis Bollina. On March 4, 1921, Marie Caruso took Bollina to court because his young adult daughter Margaret "went through the hall in a nightgown," as reported by the New-York Tribune.
Margaret appeared with her father in Magistrate Rosenblatt's courtroom, bringing with her as evidence her nightgown. The New-York Tribune reported that the magistrate approved of the nightgown "as an indoor costume," and then turned his fury on Marie Caruso. Not holding back, he told her:
You are simply looking for publicity. Take your troubles to a preacher of the gospel. Miss Margaret Bollina has a perfect right to go through the halls in her nightgown, and if you, Mrs. Caruso, bring this nightgown story to this court again I will have you locked up.
One wonders how peaceful the coexistence was between the neighbors within 20 King Street after the ruling.
In 1941 the vintage structure was dwarfed by apartment buildings. image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.
By the 1960s, the house was owned by Helen-Jean Dunn. In 1963, the basement level was converted to an apartment.
A member of the Association of Village Homeowners, Dunn spoke out against the proposed erection of Engine Company No. 24 at 227 Avenue of the Americas in 1967. She asserted, according to The Villager on September 28, that the site "is often backed up with truck traffic and at these times the fire trucks would be blocked." Despite Dunn's seemingly sensible argument, the firehouse went up.
The Dunn family continues to occupy the upper portion of the vintage house. Lovingly maintained, other than its brownstone being painted white it retains much of its 1841 appearance.
photographs by the author
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