The 1923 Bowery Savings Bank Building - 110 East 42nd Street

 

photo by Epicgenius

Chartered in 1834, the Bowery Savings Bank was named after the street upon which its building stood.  As the turn of the century approached, the bank was highly successful and in 1893-95 erected a grand Roman-inspired building at 130 Bowery designed by McKim, Mead & White.  Its jaw-dropping banking room was based on the Basilica of Constantine in Rome.

When the new bank building opened, the Grand Union Hotel had stood on 42nd Street across from Grand Central Depot since 1869.  The hotel was torn down in 1916 and the massive lot sat vacant until 1920, when York & Sawyer filled the southwest corner of 42nd Street and Park Avenue with the Pershing Square Building.  The following year, the firm would be hired by the Bowery Savings Bank to design its new headquarters next door.

On March 12, 1922, The New York Times reported, "Work on the new fourteen-story building which the Bowery Savings Bank is erecting on part of the old Grand Union Hotel plot at Forty-second Street and Park Avenue, to be used as an uptown brank of the bank, is progressing."  York & Sawyer had put W. Louis Ayres in charge of the design.  The Times said, "The exterior of the building is of Italian Romanesque style and built of variegated Ohio sandstone."  The New York City Guide would later note, "Among the symbols represented in the rich architectural detail of the building are the bull and bear of Wall Street, the lion for power, rooster for punctuality, and the squirrel for thrift." 

The Architect, October, 1923 (copyright expired)

The New York Times reported, "The banking room will be one of the largest used by a savings bank in New York."  Indeed, it soared 44 feet upward, and (like the 130 Bowery banking room) was basilica-like.  In its July 1923 issue, The Savings Bank Journal called it, "easily the most sumptuous of its kind in the country."  Twenty-five-foot tall polished marble columns, depending on their colors, were imported from France, Italy, Greece, and Belgium.  The intricate marble mosaic floors and beamed ceiling were illuminated by six bronze chandeliers inspired, according to architectural critic William P. Comstock, by "the hanging lamps of S. Sophia which are somewhat similar in general effect."

Two views of the banking room.  Architecture & Building, January 1923 (copyright expired)

William P. Comstock, the editor of The Architect, felt Ayres may have gone a step too far, however.  In the magazine's December 1923 issue, he called the banking room "sumptuous," but said, "I kept experiencing a strange feeling that I was not property dressed.  I kept expecting to hear a blare of trumpets and see Charlemagne borne in on a portable throne."

Architecture & Building, January 1923 (copyright expired)

The glass mosaic ceiling in the office corridor was created by Heinighe & Smith.  Ayres's chandeliers (top) have been replaced.  bottom photograph by Elisa.rolle.

The building was completed early in the summer of 1923.  Moving the bank's assets would be a tricky maneuver.  On June 24, The New York Times reported, "Fourteen armored motor cars, with portholes bristling with sub-machine guns, followed each other in rapid succession yesterday afternoon through the crowded streets of Manhattan, transferring $202,000,000 in negotiable securities from the old to the new home of the Bowery Savings Bank."  More than 100 police were used to clear the route as the armored cars--timed at five minute intervals--moved uptown.

William E. Knox had much to be proud of in the new building.  Hired as a clerk in 1887, he was elected president of the bank in March 1922.  He had pushed hard for an uptown branch and in reporting on his new position on March 14, 1922, The New York Times said he "is about to see his efforts realized."

Knox's vision proved a shrewd one.  On April 4, 1924, The New York Times reported that in the nine months the 42nd Street branch had been opened, deposits had increased by $25 million.

Two years later, three bank tellers were arrested for embezzling about $45,000 "over a considerable period," according to The New York Times.  The amount would translate to three quarters of a million dollars in 2024.  The trio used the money for betting on horse racing over a period of months, assuming that they would win enough to replace the funds and enjoy their winnings.  When they realized they were in too deep, one teller, 31-year-old C. Russell Morton, fled to Canada.  But then, stricken with remorse, he returned to New York and confessed to William Knox.

On November 8, Morton recounted his story to the district attorney in his eighth-floor office on Centre Street.  Morton then rushed to a window, crashing through it.  He was caught around the ankles by detectives.  The New York Times reported, "His watch and other things that he had in his pocket fell with the broken window glass to the sidewalk.  The gathering crowd below, attracted by the fall of glass, saw Morton's body nearly three-quarters out of the window."  He was pulled back in and the following day he and his cohorts were indicted.

Although the incident was embarrassing to the bank, no damage was done to its reputation and depositors were not affected.  Nonetheless, it weighed heavily on William E. Knox's mind.  Three months later, on February 4, 1927, Knox went about his business seemingly as usual.  That evening he was to be the guest of honor at a dinner at the Union League Club.

On the third floor was a "resting room" where executives slept when working late at night.  At around 1:30 that afternoon, Know said he was going there to take an hour's rest and that he did not want to be disturbed.  About 20 minutes later, Walter E. Frew, president of the Corn Exchange Bank telephoned for Knox.  An attendant went upstairs, knocked on the door and told Knox about the call.  "I'll come immediately," was the response.  When he did not come down, the bank's secretary Percy G. Delamater, went up.  He found Knox dead with a bullet wound through his heart.

In August 1931, the Bowery Savings Bank brought York & Sawyer back to design a five-story addition to the east.  The New York Times reported, "The cost was estimated at $650,000."  

The New York Times published York & Sawyer's rendering of the addition on August 16, 1931.

Called "the chapel," the four-story addition followed Ayres's original design with matching stone and Italian Romanesque arcades.

In 1946, the Bowery Savings Bank made a step forward in gender equality.  On November 14, The New York Times reported, "The Bowery Savings Bank, for the first time in its 112-year history, has promoted two women to officers' posts...Miss Hilda M. Hoffman and Miss Myrtle M. Hunt, both principal executive assistants, were named assistant secretaries."

Joan Dugan was 23-years-old in 1968 and worked as a teller here.  On April 30, a young man "wearing a black fedora with a red feather in the band," walked up to Dugan's window and passed a note:

This is a stickup.  Don't be a hero or I'll start shooting.  Put all your hundreds, fifties, twenties and tens in an envelope quickly and quietly.

Dugan did as the note demanded, but she also pressed an alarm button.  Douglas DeWitt Boyce ran out of the bank and down the subway stairs with two bank guards on his heels.  The guards yelled at two Transit Authority detectives, "Stop that man!"  Boyce (who, incidentally, did not have a gun) was apprehended and taken back to the bank for identification.  He told Joan Dugan, "I'm sorry I did this.  I didn't mean to scare you."

photo by Jim Henderson

A much less heroic guard was Charles Harper, hired in 1969.  For two and a half years, he "had a reputation for going out of his way to assist blind customers with their deposit and withdrawal slips," according to The New York Times on October 13, 1972.  Among those customers was Juliette Silvers.  On October 3, she made a deposit and Harper confirmed that her balance was $2,857.  She wrote the figure down in Braille. 

A week later she returned.  Harper was not working that day so another guard helped her.  He told her her balance was $169.65.  An investigation revealed that Harper had been withdrawing funds from the accounts of blind customers.  He was arrested on October 12.

In 1990, the Bowery Savings Bank was acquired by H. F. Ahmanson & Co.  The Greenpoint Bank moved into the banking spaces in 1995, and in March 1998 S. L. Greene purchased the building.  Speaking of the banking room, which the Greenpoint Savings Bank would be vacating later that year, he was quoted by The New York Times journalist John Holusha on March 29, "The place has an old world charm; there is nothing like it in New York."

The space was purchased (the building was now operated as a condominium) by Arrigo Cipriani, whose family already operated several restaurants, including the one in the Sherry-Netherlands hotel and the Rainbow Room in Rockefeller Center.  In reporting on Cipriani's plans, The New York Times architectural columnist David W. Dunlap commented, 

Lofty as the ceiling may be, it is almost impossible to take one's eyes off the floor, a mosaic expanse of marble that looks as if dozens of carpets had been laid edge to edge, with vivid, interwoven patterns of diamonds, circles, hexagons and stars.

image via cipriani.com

Because both the banking room and the exterior of the Bowery Savings Bank building were designated individual New York City Landmarks in 1993, the building that the Works Progress Administration's 1939 New York City Guide described as "the masterpiece of York and Sawyer," survives wonderfully intact.

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The Cliff Dwelling - 240-243 Riverside Drive

 

Looking almost like part of Cliff Dwelling, the darker building to the right was erected in 2001.  photo by Flo Beck

Leslie R. Palmer's resumé included attorney, banker, real estate developer, and, importantly, he sat on the board of the New York Architectural Terra Cotta Company.  The latter interest was evident in his exuberant 1911 store-and-office building at 154 West 14th Street, decorated with vibrantly colorful terra cotta.  The building was designed by Herman Lee Meader.  The two men would work together on three more buildings.  In 1913, the year the 14th Street structure was completed, Palmer hired Meader to design a residential hotel at 240-243 Riverside Drive.

The architect was faced with a challenge.  The narrow, triangular plot was a mere nine-feet-wide at the northern point (the New York Herald would later say the property was "only fit for a billboard").  Meader arranged the apartments to face Riverside Drive and put only a few secondary windows at the rear where he placed the stairway and elevators.

According to The New York Times columnist Christopher Gray on January 6, 2002, Meader "was intensely interested in Mayan and Aztec architecture and made regular expeditions to Chichén Itzá in the Yucatán and other sites."  Meader's fascination with South America melded with Palmer's terra cotta interests to create a unique design.  Completed in 1914, the Cliff Dwelling was 12 stories tall and faced in orange brick.  Meader lavished his Arts & Crafts style structure with Western motifs like cattle skulls, spears, and mountain lions, and Aztec- or Mayan-inspired designs.  The theme carried on inside.  According to Gray, "The lobby was furnished with Navajo rugs; tiles of tan, green, black and blood red; and zigzag designs on the lamps and elevator cages reminiscent of American Indian designs."

Aztec motifs co-exist with Native American and Western designs.  photographs by the author

An advertisement called the Cliff Dwelling a "high-class apartment hotel" with "two and three room suites, $100 and up."  (The least expensive rent would translate to $1,760 per month in 2024.)  Apartment hotels did not have kitchens, but residents enjoyed hotel amenities like maid service.  They could take meals in the in-house restaurant, if desired.

The northern end of the building was just nine-feet wide.  The glass-and-iron marquee can be seen.  image from the collection of the New York Public Library

The residents of the Cliff Dwelling were professionals.  Among them in 1917 were Dr. David Tovey and Samuel C. Grant.  Grant was a "manufacturing chemist" and officer in the Utah Potash Company.  That firm, said The Sun, "is supplying the Government with that product."

Although he was a Christian Scientist, Samuel Grant visited Dr. Tovey around the first of June 1917 concerning "kidney trouble."  About two weeks later, on June 18, Tovey received what The New York Sun called a "hurried call" from Mrs. B. M. Blackmar on West 136th Street.  She operated the Blackmar Sanitarium from her home, "where she takes in Christian Scientists desiring rest or who are ill," according to the newspaper.  When Tovey got there, Samuel C. Grant was dead.

The Evening World reported that Grand had died "suddenly of apoplexy," or what would be called a stroke today.  Dr. Tovey, on the other hand, said, "Death was due to lack of medical attention," according to The New York Sun.

The thin, triangular shape of the building can be gleaned from this photo by Edmund Vincent Gillon around 1990.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

The small apartments were workable for couples or single residents, but apparently not for families.  On March 13, 1920, the New York Herald reported, "Mr. and Mrs. J. N. Netter of 240 Riverside Drive announce the birth of a son, Thursday, March 11."  Seven months later, on October 3, an advertisement in the same newspaper read:

240 Riverside Drive (apt. 402), near 96th st., sumptuously furnished, 2 rooms, foyer and bath suite, sunny and airy, overlooking Hudson; maid, valet and restaurant service; will sublet; reasonable rental; exceptional opportunity.  MR. NETTER

Interestingly, when the Hard Realty Corporation purchased the Cliff Dwelling in March 1921, the New-York Tribune noted that the building on the "flatiron shaped site" had "a bungalow atop the house."  Rents were now advertised at "2 rooms, foyer, bath, $1080 up; 3 rooms, foyer, bath, $1680 up [yearly]."  The starting rents would translate to $1,600 and $2,540 per month today.

Retired attorney Horace Secor, Jr. moved into the Cliff Dwelling in 1918.  A year earlier he had retired as secretary of the New York Athletic Club.  Descending from a colonial family, he held memberships in the Sons of the American Revolution, the Society of Colonial Wars, the Holland-America Society and the Mayflower Society.

In 1904, when the Brooklyn Daily Eagle described him as "a well known lawyer of Nassau street," he and his wife Anna and their 15-year-old daughter Florence lived on Long Island.  But that year Anna Secor left him for another man.  Now, with his daughter married to Dr. George E. Herr and living in Portland, Maine, he lived here alone.  

Secor invested heavily in the stock market.  The New York Herald reported that, according to his son-in-law, he "had lost several fortunes within the last thirty years and had made some unfortunate investments in Wall Street, but he believed Mr. Secor still had considerable wealth."  Nevertheless, Secor became seriously concerned about recent "business reverses."  His anxiety was severe enough that Dr. Herr came down from Maine in the summer of 1921.  

On June 9, Dr. Herr convinced his father-in-law to go to a sanitarium upstate.  The New York Herald reported, "Mr. Secor promised to go and appeared cheerful when Dr. Herr left him about 7 o'clock Thursday night."  On Saturday morning, the 65-year-old was found on the bathroom floor with a bullet wound in his head.

photo by Beyond My Ken

At the time, Helen Smith, the wife of a paper manufacturer, and Mrs. Louis Auerbach, whose husband was an importer, lived in the building.  What Helen insisted was an honest mistake--opening a letter addressed to Mrs. Auerbach--erupted into a vicious feud.  It ended up with Helen Smith having her neighbor arrested for disorderly conduct.  The two women appeared in court on September 10, 1921 "flanked by an array of counsel, friends and relatives that almost filled the West Side Court," according to the New York Herald.  The article explained,

Mrs. Smith charged Mrs. Auerbach with using 'scandalous, threatening, abusive, shocking and profane' language, which she explained, followed her mistake in opening a letter addressed to Mrs. Auerbach.

Additionally, Helen Smith told the judge, "when her husband was ill somebody notified the health Department that he had typhoid fever, which was untrue."  When Mrs. Auerbach was called to the stand, "Mrs. Smith grew faint and a chair had to be provided for her."

During her testimony, Mrs. Auerbach called entire matter "extraordinary" and said she had totally forgotten about the letter incident and denied calling the Health Department.  The New York Herald said, "She knew Mrs. Smith's voice only from hearing trade people talk to her, she said, and by meeting her occasionally in the elevator."

Magistrate Silberman listened patiently, then gently berated the women.  "Both of you ladies appear to be of culture and refinement and it looks a little like a misunderstanding.  I must warn you both that in the future not to molest, have anything to do with, or speak to each other in any way."  Helen Smith withdrew her complaint and the case was dismissed.  One wonders how amicable the neighborly relations between the two were when they returned home.

Dr. David Tovey and his wife were still here as late as 1925.  A celebrated neighbor at the time was Boris Thomashesfky, one of the biggest stars in the Yiddish theater.  He lived alone here, having separated from his wife Bessie in 1911.

Boris Thomashefky, from the collection of the New York Public Library

Thomashefsky was born in Ukraine in 1866 and emigrated with his family to America when he was a teenager.  He was a pioneer in the establishment of what would become the Yiddish Theater District in New York.   

Harry Thomashefky was the eldest of Boris's three sons.  He was a star in his own right, having first appeared in the play The Pintele Kid at the age of 13.  His wife Lillian was described by Vaudeville as "a chorister under the name of Lillian Herman."  In February 1924, Harry initiated a divorce suit and simultaneously sued actor Buddy Doyle for $50,000 for alienation of affections.  His divorce action claimed Doyle and Lillian had had an adulterous affair.  Shockingly, Variety reported, "The alleged misconduct is specifically named as having happened at the home of Bores [sic] Thomasefky, 240 Riverside Drive, Dec. 23, 1923."

At the time, Buddy Doyle was appearing in Artists & Models.  Ironically, on January 15, 1926, Billboard reported, "Albert Kavelin, formerly of Artists and Models, and his orchestra are appearing nightly at the exclusive Cliff Grill, 240 Riverside drive...Kavelin and his boys are meeting with great favor with the Cliff Grill patrons and are scheduled to remain there for a long run."

photograph by Beyond My Ken

Art dealer Jonce I. McGurk was a resident by the early 1930s.  Born in 1875, the bachelor was especially known for the Early American art he bought and sold.  In 1929, for instance, he sold the marble bust of George Washington executed by Jean Antoine Houdon to the Rockefeller family for a rumored $250,000.  Another Houdon work he purchased was the 1778 bust of Voltaire, which he also sold Percy Rockefeller.

In 1933, McGurk sold a Gilbert Stuart portrait of George Washington on consignment from Ellen Newbod Jacobs.  Unfortunately for McGurk, Mrs. Jacobs did some personal private investigating after the sale.  She sued him and on December 10, 1933, the Albany, New York Times-Union reported she had won a $13,244 verdict.  "She charged he told her he received only $7,000, whereas he really sold the portrait for $14,000," said the article.

Mountain lions below an Aztec mask, a bison skull, and Native American spears carry out Meader's American theme.  photo by Behind My Ken

In 1966, writer and editor Uwe Johnson moved into a three-room apartment in the Cliff Dwelling.  Born in 1934, he had left East Germany in the 1950s after being considered a dissident by authorities.  Living here with his wife, Elisabeth Schmidt, and nine-year-old daughter, he worked as a textbook editor at Harcourt, Brace & World.  The family would remain here for two years.

An uncharacteristic tenant was Terry Blum, described by The New York Times as, "an unemployed salesman."  On February 7, 1972, the 27-year-old walked into the District Attorney's office to surrender on an earlier forgery charge.  Keen-eyed detectives there, however, recognized him as fitting the description of one of the six armed perpetrators of a million-dollar jewel robbery of the Pierre Hotel on January 2.  

Blum's cohorts had all been captured on January 7, at which time $250,000 in jewelry was recovered.  He was charged with armed robbery and illegal possession of a gun.

photo by Deansfa

In 1979 the building was converted to cooperative apartments.  Some owners shoehorned mini-kitchens into the foyers, resulting in guests having to pass through the kitchen to the living room.  At some point the glass-and-iron marquee that had stretched nearly to the curb was removed, leaving a noticeable scar over the entrance.  More importantly, though, Herman Lee Meader's marvelous and unique decorations survive.

photograph by the author

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The Lost New York Cotton Exchange Building - William and Beaver Streets

 

The Architectural Record, 1898 (copyright expired)

The New York Cotton Exchange was organized in 1870.  Historian Robert P. McDougall recalled in 1923, "Up to that time trading in cotton had been done in brokers' offices in and around Hanover Square, which still retained some flavor of the days when it was the residential site of wealthy New Yorkers and of distinguished French émigrés who had fled from the Revolution."  The new exchange met in rented rooms at 142 Pearl Street.

The Pearl Street building.  The Story of the Cotton Exchange, 1923 (copyright expired)

Two years later, the Cotton Exchange moved into India House at 1 Hanover Square.  That building sufficed until a committee was appointed on December 6, 1880 to consider sites and architects for a new headquarters.  On June 10, 1882, The Evening Post reported, "The most important private sale of the week was the purchase of the ground on Pearl, William, and Beaver Streets for the new Cotton Exchange Building."  The article said the exchange had paid $382,500 for the parcel.

Six architects submitted plans and on May 5, 1883 The American Architect & Building News reported, "Mr. George B. Post's designs for the Cotton Exchange Building have been accepted."  Five months later, The Sanitary Engineer announced that Post had filed plans for the eight-story structure.  "The estimated cost of the building is $530,000," said the article."  The combined cost of property and construction brought the outlay to more than $28 million by 2024 conversion.

As construction neared completion in January 1885, rental space was offered.  On January 29, The New York Times reported, "Little books containing elaborate diagrams of the interior of the new structure have been distributed among the members, and yesterday a circular was posted stating that a choice of offices would be disposed of at public sale on Feb. 4."

Construction was completed in 1895.  Above a three-story base, George Browne Post's neo-French Renaissance structure broke into two sections, each treated slightly differently, including the bases.  The upper floors at the corner morphed into a tower inspired by the Chateau de Chambord.  The Architectural Record said the New York Cotton Exchange building made the "bold sacrifice of rentable space to make the space which remains more useful and more agreeable to the inhabitants, by leaving large external courts upon which windows may open directly."  The article noted,

The round tower, by which the irregular angle is occupied, is an obvious resource in such a case, and Paris is full of such round towers used at the acute angles of meeting streets and avenues, but the New York business world has generally been too sharp-set for office rents to allow of such decorative treatment of its sites.

The critic felt that because of its striking tower, "the building is one of the most spirited structures in the business quarter of New York."

A hand-colored postcard highlighted the red tiled roofs.

"On a beautiful April morning, April 30, 1885," as described by Robert P. MacDougall, a band led the members of the New York Cotton Exchange from the old building to the new structure.  "The opening ceremonies were held on the great floor which was 108 feet long and 71 feet wide with a ring for trading in about the middle."  That evening, the celebrations were capped with a collation and ball.

Members were initially concerned about the acoustics of the trading floor.  On May 3, 1885, The New York Times reported, "In its present unfinished condition the board room of the new Cotton Exchange Building echoes the bids of brokers in a manner that is extremely unpleasant, if not confusing, during the busy hours."  The hard surfaces bounced the shouts of the brokers around the cavernous space, creating a cacophony.  The builders assured the members, "this will be remedied when all the window shades, furniture, and chandeliers are put in place."  

The echoing surfaces of the trading room initially caused problems.  photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York. 

Among the firms renting office space in the building was the insurance brokerage firm of Leonard & Moody.  Until 1884, Horace Moody's cousin William Gantz had worked for the firm, but that year he was discharged.  A reporter from The Evening World explained, "young Gantz, was brought up from infancy and educated by the Moodys."

Four years later, on August 2, 1888, Gantz appeared in Moody's office, asking for a loan of $30.  The Evening World reported, "Mr. Moody said he could not lend it to him, and as Gantz went out of the office he said that he would have it by hook or crook."  The article continued, "Mr. Moody went on a vacation the next day and when he returned found that his name had been forged for the exact amount which Gantz said he would have by 'hook or crook.'"

A young man had cashed the two $15 checks at Delmonico's restaurant across the street.  His description matched William Gantz.  Moody had his cousin arrested and Gantz was positively identified by the Delmonico employees.  

Although Gantz insisted he was innocent, he was locked up in the Tombs awaiting trial.  A conviction would result in a sentence at the state prison.  But then, a third attempt to cash a check at Delmonico's occurred.  Seventeen-year-old Charles E. Keeler was arrested.  He, too, had been employed by Leonard & Moody and had been fired in the spring.  

The Evening World reported on August 25, "Keeler, whose mental balance is not the most stable, confessed his guilt and acknowledged the uttering of the checks for passing which Gantz was in prison."  William Gantz was exonerated and the Delmonico's manager and cashier tepidly acknowledged their embarrassing mistake, saying, "they cash so many checks for their customers in person and by messenger that they may have been mistaken."

Another tenant in the building was W. R. Grace & Co.  It was headed by former Mayor William Russell Grace.  On October 29, 1890, The Sun remarked, "Mr. Grace has a big office in the Cotton Exchange building, and there are one or two smaller offices opening into it."

 

Like Leonard & Moody, Reinhard Sidenburg & Co. was the victim of forgers.  But in this case, the crime far exceeded the $45 drawn against the former's accounts.  In September 1893, $500 in cash went missing from a safe in the Rieinhard Sidenburg & Co. offices.  It triggered an inspection of the books that yielded shocking results.  About $20,000 was missing--nearly $700,000 in today's money.

On Saturday night, September 23, the firm's bookkeeper, Ernest J. Greene, was arrested at his Brooklyn house.  The cashier, John F. Collins, was arrested at his desk on Monday afternoon.  Both men confessed to the embezzlement.  The New-York Tribune explained how they perpetrated the crime.

Either Collins or Greene would erase by acids from checks made out to a customer the name of the payee, and substitute "bearer."  The dishonest employe[e]s would get the checks cashed and pocket the money.  They took care to intercept such checks and destroy them before they could be seen by any member of the firm when returned.

To cover up their crimes, false entries were made in the books.  The newspaper said that had they not stolen the cash, they could have gotten away with the scheme longer.  Collins and Greene were just 24 and 23 years old respectively.

Amazingly, just ten years after the Cotton Exchange Building was completed, on February 13, 1905, The Wall Street Journal reported, "Plans for the new Cotton Exchange building are to be voted on next Wednesday."  The demolition seemed to be confirmed, the article saying that the new building would cost "about $1,500,000."  Something derailed the plans, however, but the project was resurrected seven years later.  On September 25, 1912, The New York Times reported, "It is planned to tear down the old Cotton Exchange building at the corner of William and Beaver Streets, and to erect a new building at a cost of $1,755,000."  This replacement structure was proposed to rise 22 stories.

But, once again, the plans were scrapped.  Among the tenants in 1919 were the classrooms of the "commercial courses" of New York University, as described by the New York Herald on November 27.  

At the time, the world was suffering through the Great Influenza epidemic.  It broke out in 1918 and killed 675,000 Americans that first year.  And so occupants of the Cotton Exchange Building were no doubt panicked when 40-year-old commission merchant Vincent E. Mitchell died of influenza in January 1920.  The New York Times noted on January 17, "His wife died a few hours later, also of influenza, and his mother and two small children are ill with the same disease."  Happily, the disease did not spread throughout the building.

The streets of the Financial District were quiet in this postcard from the turn of the last century.

On December 16, 1921, the New York Herald reported that the Cotton Exchange would be renting space in the New York Produce Exchange building "from May 1, 1922 to May 1, 1923, while its new $3,000,000 building is under construction."  This time the demolition plans would happen.  Three weeks later, the New-York Tribune reported that Donn Barber's plans for a 24-story replacement had been accepted, noting "construction of the building was delayed for various reasons."

Donn Barber's replacement structure survives on the site.

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