In 1836, construction began on a row of six neat houses along the west side of Bedford Street between Commerce and Morton Streets. Although built for several owners, they appear to all have been constructed by John C. Hadden and Sylvanus Gedney of Hadden & Gedney.
Possibly working with them on the project was carpenter Samuel J. Van Saun, who took title to 67 Bedford Street in the middle of the row. Faced in Flemish bond brick, it rose three stories above a brownstone basement. All of the houses were intended as rental properties and No. 67, like its neighbors, would initially see a rapid turnover in tenants.
The residence's respectable, middle-class occupants included Henry A. Halsted, a grocer, here in 1840 and '41. By 1845 another grocer, Peter Shute lived here, sharing the house with Jacob Bloom, a shoemaker. In 1851 broker Samuel R. Jacobs and hardware merchant John W. Sullivan rented 67 Bedford Street.
William Veitch and his family moved in around 1853. The location was convenient, since Veitch was sexton of the Bedford Street Church just steps away at the corner of Morton Street. The handsome Greek Revival structure had been constructed 13 years earlier.
The Veitch family moved to 71 Bedford Street in 1855, replaced in the house by the family of Anson Davies Fitz Randolph. Born in 1820 in Woodbridge, New Jersey, he opened his religious book store at 669 Broadway in 1851, publishing and selling religious books, sermons and pamphlets. He and his wife had at least two sons, Arthur D. F. and Frank F.
Famed photographer Alfred Stieglitz made this portrait of Anson Davies Fitz Randolph later in life. Camera Notes, July 1897 (copyright expired)
The family was at Woodbridge, New Jersey in the summer of 1855 when Frank F. Randolph became ill. He died there at the age of four on September 6. His funeral was held in the Bedford Street house a few days later.
The first long-term occupant of 67 Bedford Street was Diana Traphagen, who moved in around 1856 with her son James. Her husband, William D. Traphagen, had died in 1851. In 1862 James D. Traphagen's profession was listed as "ales." He could have been a brewer or, more likely, ran a saloon. That year Diana took in a boarder, carpet merchant William H. Peterson.
An advertisement in the New York Herald on January 24, 1871 read, "Wanted--A girl for general housework in a private family. Call at 67 Bedford st." The term "private family" was telling in that, while Diana Traphagen took in as many as two boarders at a time, she was not technically running a boarding house.
An ad on October 2, 1877 read, "A large furnished room, second floor, modern improvements, $13 per month; hall room $7 per month, to gentlemen; private family. 67 Bedford st." Boarders would be paying the equivalent of $390 per month for the larger room. Diana's accepting only men was a common practice to ensure that unsavory women did not sully the reputation of the house.
By the last decade of the 19th century, 67 Bedford Street was operated as a boarding house by Lizzie Cullen. On the evening of September 30, 1899, she and her neighbor Nellie Melford, who lived at 64 Bedford Street, were at the corner of Bedford and Carmine Streets "when they saw a young woman come along, pick up a little child from the street, kiss it, and give it a penny," according to The New York Times.
While others may have found nothing suspicious in the interaction, Lizzie and Nellie did. As Mary Farrell led the child away by the hand, they followed. Aware of their presence, Farrell turned and asked if they knew whose child it was. The Times reported, "They said they did not. She then expressed the opinion that it must be lost, and said she would try to find where it belonged."
According to the article, the woman went "from place to place" with "Mrs. Cullen and Mrs. Melford following and watching her intently." When the women saw Police Officer Henry Haggerty, they informed him of their suspicions. What might have been seen as a case of interfering busybodies turned out to be civilian policework. Mary Farrell was taken in for questioning. "She said first the child was her own, and that she was merely playing a joke. Then she denied all knowledge of the child. Next she said she knew its mother, and had the baby out for a walk." The 25-year-old was held on attempted kidnapping.
Lizzie Cullen's tenants were working class. A boarder living here in 1903 placed an on August 14 that read, "Young man (25) handy with tools, wishes a position of any kind. P. Martin, 67 Bedford st., New York."
French-Canadian Ludgel F. Tardey lived here in 1907. He had worked for the Western Electrical Company since 1903. Described by the Brooklyn Daily Eagle as "an undersized man," he decided to end it all on May 17, 1907 by leaping from the Williamsburg Bridge. He boarded a Broadway Line streetcar headed to Brooklyn. When the car was above the East River, Tardey walked to the rear "and started to climb over the dashboard," said the article. The conductor, Charles Gunstine, and a passenger, Raphael Richards, realized what he was attempting to do and began struggling with him. The ruckus drew the attention of Policemen James McKenna and James Dobson, who "took charge of Tardey and started with him to the bridge police station." On the way, Tardey attempted to break free several times.
When he faced Magistrate O'Reilly, Tardey "talked quite rationally," said the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. He pleaded not to be jailed (attempted suicide was a jailable offense) because he would lose his job. O'Reilly, however, "thought it best to have the man examined," and he was held.
In 1916 New York City was struck by a devastating epidemic--poliomyelitis, or infantile paralysis. Doctors were caught unaware and on September 3, Dr. Abraham Zingher explained, "so little did the average practitioner know about poliomyelitis at the beginning of the present sweep of the scourge that many cases were treated as summer complaint or other common illness for several days." The following day, The New York Times ran the headline, "Experts Train Private Doctors to Curb Plague." There were 8,197 cases to date and 1,988 deaths recorded at the time.
Earlier, on July 11, a female reporter from the New-York Tribune accompanied an ambulance to a call at 67 Bedford Street. She wrote, "Crowds of curious folk gathered around when we stopped...and a heavily built woman hurried out to assure us that her child was as good as gold and didn't need to go to the hospital." The doctor confided, "They all say that. For some reason they have a dread of sending their children with us." The doctor examined the six-year-old boy named Johnny, then explained to the reporter, "We can't take this one...the family isn't willing to let the boy go. Under those conditions we can't force it." What became of Johnny is unknown.
In 1926, the Greenoak Company, Inc. converted 67 Bedford Street to apartments. A fourth floor was added, its arrangement of two windows, one twice the size of the other, was copied at the third floor. The stoop was removed and the entrance lowered to the former basement level.
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image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.
The apartments were what was known as "bachelor apartments," meaning they had no actual kitchens. The Department of Buildings warned, "not more than two families cooking independently on the premises."
The configuration lasted until 1972, when a renovation resulted in a triplex apartment in the lower three floors, and one apartment each on the upper floors. Then, a remarkable makeover completed in 2012 returned 67 Bedford Street to a single family house. The entrance was refabricated based on surviving examples in the area, the original fenestration of the third floor was restored, and a wall of studio windows installed at the fourth floor.
photograph by the author
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