The Herman C. Strobel House - 262 West 91st Street

 

Born in 1851, Herman Christian Strobel was one of three sons born to Philip and Caroline Strobel.  The year after his birth, his German-born father Philip opened a "table making" business.  As the sons reach adulthood, each was brought into the firm, which became Philip Strobel & Sons, Inc.  By 1897, when Herman Strobel purchased the newly built house at 262 West 91st Street, he was the senior partner of the firm (now a leading maker of "dining room, café and restaurant furniture") and had accumulated a sizable personal fortune.

Strobel and his wife, the former Caroline Becker, had three sons, George Philip, Edward Emil, and Frank Charles.  The boys were twelve, seven and two years old respectively when their parents purchased the new residence.

The family's house was one of seven erected in 1896-97 by James Frame.  Designed by Alexander M. Welch, the Renaissance Revival style homes were configured in three distinct sections--two pairs flanking a trio.  The Strobel house, the easternmost of the central section, was three stories tall above the English basement.  Stone wing walls, one of which gracefully swept to the side, guarded the stoop.  The basement and parlor levels were faced in planar stone, while the upper two were clad in yellow Roman brick.  A three-sided limestone oriel distinguished the second floor, and the third boasted a handsome triple arcade with fluted columns.

Herman Christian Strobel, original source unknown.

It is unclear what Strobel paid for the house, but his $20,000 mortgage, equal to about $758,000 in 2024, gives a clue.  The family also maintained a summer home in Edgemere, Long Island.

At least one of Herman's sons chose not to go into the family business.  On November 28, 1907, The Motor World reported that George and two partners, George W. Garland, Jr., and Albert L. Martin, had incorporated the Marion-Overland Automobile Co.

In 1909, Philip Strobel & Sons patented this dining table that morphed into a card table.  The Grand Rapids Furniture Record, June 1912 (copyright expired)

Caroline, who was known familiarly as Carrie, entertained often, although not lavishly.  Typical of her social page mentions was the one-line article in The New York Times on February 21, 1909.  "Cards are out for a bridge and euchre party to be given on Thursday by Mrs. H. C. Strobel, 262 West Ninety-first Street."  

It was common within well-to-do families for the title for domestic property to be put in the wife's name.  The practice insured her of some financial stability in the case of the husband's death.  Herman Strobel had not done that in 1897, but he corrected the situation in July 1911 by transferring title to 262 West 91st Street to Carrie.

On December 31, 1912, Herman's brother Otto withdrew from Philip Strobel & Sons "by mutual consent," according to the notice in The New York Times a month later.  Herman remained senior partner and he and his remaining brother, George, continued the firm under the same name.

Herman Strobel died at the Edgemere house eight months later, on August 18, 1913, at the age of 62.  He left $10,000 to each of his sons (about $315,000 today).  Because Edward and Frank were still minors, their inheritance was placed in trust until they reached 25.  The New York Herald reported, "Mrs. Carrie Strobel, widow, who lives with her sons at No. 262 West Ninety-first street, receives the residue."

Carrie involved herself in charitable causes, like the Little Mothers Aid Association.  In 1920, her attention focused on the upcoming wedding of Frank.  His engagement to Mildred M. Rock was announced on January 11.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The couple was married in the Crystal Room of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel on October 6 that year.  George was his brother's best man and Edward was one of the ushers.  The newlyweds would not live far from Carrie.  The New-York Tribune noted, "After their wedding trip Mr. and Mrs. Strobel will live at 215 West Ninety-first Street."

After being home to the Strobels for three decades, 262 West 91st Street was sold in August 1926 to the 4195 Broadway Corporation.  The house was unofficially converted to apartments.  Among the tenants in 1935 was Joseph DeVilasis, who described his profession as "mechanical dentistry."

In 1943, Siegmund Weissmann, a musician, lived here, as did Louis Mendez, a Spanish-born restaurant worker.

A renovation completed in 1964 resulted in a duplex apartment in the basement and parlor levels, two apartments each on the second and third floors, and one on the new fourth floor, unseen from the street.  In the 1970s, the duplex was home to Group Laboratories, a group therapy organization.

photographs by the author

The Lost Seamen's Bank for Savings - 74 Wall Street

 

Real Estate Record & Guide, June 25, 1898 (copyright expired)

In 1850, architect and engineer Robert G. Hatfield was commissioned to design the Sun Building in Baltimore.  To cast its iron facade, he turned to New York City inventor and architect James Bogardus, who patented his process that same year.  

Hatfield's engineering expertise would be seen in his structural design of the Grand Central Depot trail shed.  While he was working on that project, Robert Hatfield was hired to design a headquarters for the Seamen's Bank for Savings at 74 and 76 Wall Street.  On June 24, 1870 he filed plans for a "five-story and basement cast-iron front bank building."

The next day, The New York Times reported, "The structure will be of brick with iron fronts...The main, or banking-room, will be 58 feet by 40, and 30 feet in height."  The article explained that the upper floors would be leased as offices.

The Seamen's Bank for Savings was completed in December 1871 at a cost of $350,000 (about $9 million in 2024), according to the Record & Guide.  Hatfield's Second Empire design included squat, free-standing Corinthian columns at the basement (or street) level.  Steps led to the main entrance within a Corinthian portico on top of which were sculptured figures of a Native American and a sailor holding a shield with the bank's logo.  The fifth floor took the form of a steep mansard pierced by elaborate dormers.

The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide called it, "the most striking and imposing object in that immediate neighborhood."  Inside, the double-height banking room had a "wide gallery running round the upper part," according to the Guide, under a vast glass dome.  The critic said the "solidity of construction" was to be expected of Hatfield, who was "universally recognized as among the foremost of our scientific and constructive architects."

"We wish we could speak as favorably of the exterior," said the article.  Hatfield's cast iron facade closely mimicked granite--too closely in the Record & Guide's opinion.

Indeed, so far in this case has the effort to imitate stone been carried, that in the seemingly large blocks of granite in the basement piers...they have actually imitated in iron the rusticated chisel-marks that are to be found on granite blocks!  This looks to us very much like caricaturing art.

The critic said the building's main fault was "of not boldly erecting an iron building as iron."

Seamen's Bank for Savings was founded on May 11, 1829 by a group of philanthropic New Yorkers with the purpose "to encourage thrift among sailors, stevedores, naval officers and officers of merchant ships," according to The New York Times.  Now, nearly half a century later, the superstitions of the seafaring depositors affected the building's address.  The New York Times explained decades later, on May 12, 1929:

When the present building was completed, the officers selected 76 Wall Street as the address of the new home for the bank.  Upon receipt of a letter from an "old salt" that 7 and 6 made 13, the officers changed the proposed address to 74 Wall Street.

Among the bank's long-term tenants were the offices of the American Seamen's Friend Society, which would remain for decades.  Other offices were leased mostly by attorneys and brokerage firms.

Broker Edward F. Hall's office was here in the summer of 1886 when he traveled to West Point to visit his nephew at the Military Academy.  Accompanying him was a friend, Mrs. Skerritt, and they took rooms at Craney's West Point Hotel.  On the night of July 13, 1886, Hall told Mrs. Skeritt that he would go swimming early in the morning and would meet her on the hotel piazza at 8:00 for breakfast.

When he did not show up, Mrs. Skeritt began asking around.  The head waiter remembered seeing him at around 6:30 that morning "as though going to the cadet bathing house," as reported by The Sun.  A search was made, but no trace of Hall could be found.  The quartermaster was notified and cadets and enlisted men were sent along the entire shore.  In the meantime, Hall's room was searched.  His valuables--wallet, watch and chain, and diamond pin--were there.  His clothes for the day were laid out on the bed.

Eventually, it was concluded that Hall had drowned, or "climbed up the mountain side to explore Crows' Nest or Storm King, and, meeting with a fall, had been so disabled as to be unable to move or shout for assistance."  As hope faded and a more intense search was being organized, Hall "made his appearance, walking southward, with a bath towel in his hand," oblivious to the turmoil he had caused.

The offices of W. Ropes & Co., commercial merchants, were here by 1889.  William Hall Ropes had been United States Consul at St. Petersburg, Russia, from 1850 to 1854.  Now W. Ropes & Co. was a major importer and exporter between the United States and Russia, as well as England.  Its St. Petersburg branch was "extensively engaged in the manufacture of products of Russian petroleum and also in the exportation of Russia Crash," according to New York 1894: Illustrated.    (Russia Crash was a handmade textile "made by peasants, in their homes.")

Mahlon B. Smith was a clerk with Seamen's Bank for Savings.  He was described by The Sun as "a highly respected citizen of Hackensack" and "an elderly man with a short cropped gray beard."  His daughter, Aimee, was the organist and Sunday school teacher at the Asbury Methodist Episcopal Church there.

On the morning of March 8, 1897, Aimee Smith took the ferry to New York City with the wife of the church's pastor.  They parted ways in the city, with Aimee intending to take a train to Morristown for a week.  She was to open a millinery store there with a Miss McVey.  It was the last anyone saw of Aimee Smith.

Later that morning, a Mr. and Mrs. Everett checked into the Hotel Victor on Third Avenue near 24th Street.  Shortly afterward, Everett went to the office of Dr. N. H. Lewis on West 23rd Street, imploring him to see his sick wife.  The Sun reported, "He learned that the young woman was not 'Everett's' wife and said he did not care to attend such a case."  Everett, however, "pleaded with him so hard" that the doctor relented.  He found the woman "in a very weak state," said her trouble was "due to excitement and worry," and told the proprietor to call an ambulance.  "Then it was that 'Everett' disappeared," reported The Sun.  The young woman died in Bellevue Hospital.

At 8:00 the following morning, Mahlon B. Smith appeared at the morgue.  The Sun said, "He was in great distress of mind, for he had little doubt of the result of his errand.  When the body was uncovered he said huskily, 'It is my daughter Aimee.'"

Despite acquaintances in Hackensack saying that Aimee Smith was "an innocent little thing, morbidly conscientious and exact in her devotions and church duties," it seems that she was the victim of a botched abortion.

As the Seamen's Bank for Savings approached its centennial in 1925, plans were laid for replacing its building.  Robert G. Hatfield's cast iron structure was demolished to make way for the Benjamin Wistar Morris-designed skyscraper, which survives.

Stone magazine, January 1927 (copyright expired)

The Mayer and Fannie Baum House - 210 East 72nd Street

 

The family of Mayer and Fannie Baum lived in the new house at 210 East 72nd Street as early as 1877.  One of a long row of neo-Grec style houses, it was clad in brownstone and rose three stories above an English basement.  Beefy cast iron newels and railings flanked the stoop.  The architrave surrounds of the windows mimicked that of the entrance, with prominent cornices and geometric brackets.

Mayer dealt in downtown real estate.  He and Fannie had eight children--seven sons and a daughter.  Among them was Samuel who enrolled in the introductory class of the Commercial Course at the College of the City of New York in 1877 when he was 13 years old.  Samuel would go into the jewelry business, while his brother David became a real estate operator like his father by 1888.  (The Baums' neighbors on the opposite side of the street by the early 1890s were Mayer's sister, Yette Friedman, and her family.)  

On the night of March 16, 1894, Samuel, now 30, went drinking with 24-year-old George Adams, who lived next door at 208 East 72nd Street.  Neither would return to their homes for a period.

At 5:00 the next morning, the pair stumbled into the Lenox Café, a saloon at 72nd Street and Third Avenue.  According to the bartender, Angelo Blanco, they demanded free drinks.  When he refused, one of them hurled a bottle at him.  The Evening Post reported, "The bartender then rang for the police.  This angered the two men and they began to hurl missiles."  In response, Blanco pulled out a revolver and fired five shots.  Samuel Baum was shot in the hip and George Adams in the shoulder.  They were taken to the Presbyterian Hospital.  All three men were arrested.  In the Yorkville Police Court later that morning, Baum and Adams "asserted that they were assaulted by the bartender," said the article.

The family's name was in the newspapers for more positive reasons in the fall of 1896.  Daisy Baum was married in the parlor to Martin Rothschild.   

Mayer Baum died on March 7, 1904.  Still living with Fannie at the time were (at least) sons Samuel, Irving, Alexander and Albert.  Samuel died here, still unmarried, at the age of 45 on February 10, 1909.  The following month, the family sold 210 East 72nd Street to John Byrns.

Interestingly, Alexander and Albert Baum remained in the house after the Byrns family moved in.  Alexander would list his address here as late as 1914, by which time Albert was living on West 112th Street.

Born in Ireland in 1838, John Byrns arrived in America in 1849.  His resume was diverse.  He had been a director of the Fifth National Bank since 1891; was a director and treasurer of the Dry Dock, East Broadway & Battery Railroad Company; and president of the Master Plumbers' Association of the United States.  He and his wife, Teresa A. Byrns had eight children--two sons and six daughters.  The family's summer home was in Babylon, Long Island.

Son Chester J. Byrns was married to Mary B. Fitzgerald, the daughter of former Supreme Court Justice James Fitzgerald, in the newly-completed Church of St. Jean Baptiste on June 2, 1914.  

John Byrns, Merchant Plumber and Fitter, January 10, 1927

Teresa Byrns died here on January 15, 1917.  John and at least two daughters, Kathleen and Adelaide, remained in the East 72nd Street house.  Kathleen was married to James Joseph Kirwin, Jr. in St. Joseph's Church in Babylon, New York on June 20, 1925.  The Brooklyn Times Union reported that the reception was held "at the country place of the bride's father."

John Byrns died at the age of 89 on January 2, 1927.  His funeral was held in St. Vincent Ferrer's Church, where Teresa's had been held a decade earlier.

The house became home to the Dr. Howard Gillespie Myers family.  Myers was born in Port Byron, New York in 1862.  He married Marie Antoinette Darwood (who went by her middle name) on July 30, 1890.  The couple had four children, Darwood Gillespie, Dorothy Kenyon, Constance, and Beatrice--all of whom were married but Beatrice.  Dr. Myers had been an active member of the Prohibition Party.

The population of 210 East 72nd Street increased by one following Beatrice's wedding to David H. Houghtaling on January 10, 1930.  The Columbia Alumni News reported, "Mr. and Mrs. Houghtaling will live at 210 East Seventy-second Street, New York City."

Dr. Howard Gillespie Myers died on September 12, 1935 at the age of 73.  The house became home to the Schneider family the following month, and to John and Dede Farrelly in the 1950s.

The row was intact as late as 1941.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Patrons of the arts, the Farrellys became acquainted with aspiring Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh.  In her Patrick Kavanagh, A Biography, Antoinette Quinn writes:

Even after he had his own apartment, Kavanagh spent much of the day with the Farrellys, who lived about ten blocks away at 210 East 72nd Street.  Their expensive east side home was a stopover for poets, especially the Beat poets.

Publisher Jay Landesman, according to Quinn, recalled, "long nights at Didi's [sic] with George Barker, Ginsberg, Corso, and Orloswki."

The Farrellys separated around 1958.  The 72nd Street house became home to Dr. Robert C. Sorensen and his wife, the former Marjorie Mattson.  Their son, David Woodrow Mattson, was born on June 3, 1964.  Dr. Sorensen's brother, Theodore C. Sorensen, was a special adviser to President John F. Kennedy.

The last intact house of the row, 210 East 72nd Street has an apartment in the basement level, but remains a single family home on the main three floors.  

photographs by the author

The Henry Clews, Jr. House - 145 East 19th Street

 

In 1849, Edwin Forrest was the reigning American tragedian, the position held in England by Irish-born William Macready.  A fierce rivalry existed between the two actors and local loyalty to Forrest was intense.  On May 10, Macbeth opened at the Astor Place Opera House with Macready in the title role.  Thousands crowded into the streets of the fashionable neighborhood to voice their dissatisfaction.  The protests turned to violent rioting.  On May 13, the Sunday Dispatch listed the names of the 25 killed and 120 injured during the melee.  The "long and melancholy list" included among the fatalities, "Kelly, 104 East Nineteenth street."

Kelly's brick-faced house was one of a row erected in 1843.  Three stories tall, its Greek Revival design was typical of hundreds of homes, with a high stoop that led to the entrance within a sturdy brownstone enframement, and simple sills and lintels.

By 1851, Edward Chester, an educator, and his family lived at 104 East 19th Street (renumbered 145 in 1867).  The Chesters maintained a small domestic staff.  Like many families, when they left for the country in the summer they let unnecessary staff go.  On June 27, 1855, an advertisement in New York Daily Herald read:

Plain Cook and Washer--A gentleman leaving the city, wishes to procure a situation as above for a person now in his family, and whom he can highly recommend.

When the family returned five months later, they began restaffing.  An ad on November 30 read, "A seamstress and a plain cook wanted--who thoroughly understand their business, in a small family.  Apply personally at No. 104 East 19th-st., after 12 o'clock.  None but Protestants need apply."

The Chesters remained through 1857, after which the house was operated as a boarding house.  Among those living here in 1858 were Professor Candido Berti and artist Nestor Corradi.

In 1881, Maud Parish and her husband moved here from the boarding house at 208 East 14th Street.  Parish was a frescoer with the firm Pottier & Stymus.  The New York Evening Post said he, "earned a good salary, and had provided well for her support."  The couple had been forced to move following scandal.  Four other boarders in the 14th Street house had discovered missing clothing and jewelry.  A search uncovered the stolen items in Maud Parish's rooms.  The items--worth $500, or about $15,400 in 2024--were returned and Parish convinced the victims not to press charges.

Now at 145 East 19th Street, Maud made friends with Josephine G. Gabadau and her invalid mother.  In May 1882, Josephine "missed some jewelry and $30 in gold from her trunk," which was stored in a room on the third floor, according to The New York Evening Post.  The Sun reported, "Shortly after, she saw one of the ornaments on the person of Mrs. Maud L. Parish, a fellow boarder."  Maud told Josephine she had bought it, and since it was not an unusual piece, the subject was dropped.

Then, on June 14 a fire was discovered in the storeroom.  When it was extinguished, the contents of Josephine Gabadau's trunks were missing.  She went to Police Inspector Byrnes and told him of her suspicions.  After an investigation, Maud confessed, admitting to setting the fire to hide the theft.  She was arrested on July 24.  Tragically, according to The New York Evening Post, "Mrs. Gabadau was made so ill by fright that she died."

In 1908, George and Antoinette Finck and his wife purchased 145 East 19th Street.  They leased it to Henry R. Jaeckel for three years.  When his lease expired in 1911, they rented the house to recently divorced millionaire Henry Clews, Jr.

Clews hired architect Frederick Junius Sterner to remodel the outdated residence.  Sterner had been transforming the block since 1906 when he purchased his own home at 139 East 19th Street.  He removed the stoop, gave the new entrance at the basement level a brick surround and a colorful tile plaque above the doorway, covered the brick facade in stucco and decorated it with three cast-stone plaques.  A sloping tile roof completed the slightly Mediterranean feel.

145 East 19th Street was originally a match to the house to the left.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Born in 1876, Clews had struggled to find his identity.  His family was among the wealthiest and most prominent in New York and in Newport.  Before he was 21 years old, he had been expelled from Amherst College, dropped out of Columbia University, and was ousted from Leibniz University Hannover.  His father brought him into the family banking firm, but his passion was art.  Clews studied sculpture under Auguste Rodin and by the time he moved into 145 East 19th Street had had two exhibitions in New York.  

On December 19, 1914, Clews returned from Europe, but he did not go directly home.  Instead, he went to 8 Washington Square where he married Elsie Whelen Goelet, the former wife of Robert Goelet.  The New York Times said, "The marriage took place quietly at the home of the bride...a few hours after the license had been obtained, in the presence of the immediate families."

A year later, on October 30, 1915, The New York Times reported, "Following the wedding, the couple lived at Mr. Clews's studio at 145 East Nineteenth Street, and later sailed for Europe, where they have since resided in Paris."  The couple would not return to East 19th Street.

Leasing the combined houses next door at 147-149 East 19th Street (another Sterner transformation) since 1911 was artist Robert Winthrop Chanler.  They, too, were owned by George and Antoinette Finck.  In 1919, Chanler purchased his studio from the Fincks, as well as 145 East 19th Street.  The Record & Guide reported he paid $35,000 for the former Clews residence and studio.  The price would translate to $616,000 today.  On July 9, The Sun remarked, "The Clews and Chanler houses are among the most unique in the city, and their occupants have spent large sums of money in fitting them up."

William Astor Chanler, Prominent and Progressive Americans, 1904 (copyright expired)

Chanler's brother, William Astor Chanler, and his wife, the former Beatrice "Minnie" Ashley, moved into 145 East 19th Street.  Born in Newport in 1867, Chanler had served in the New York Assembly and the United States Congress.  After his Congressional term ended in 1901, he turned to traveling, writing and exploring.

Beatrice "Minnie" Ashley Chanler.  Arts & Decoration, March 1921 (copyright expired)

Minnie Chanler had been a stage actress, artist and author.  She made the house the scene of lavish entertaining.  On December 1, 1925, for instance, The New York Times reported that the French Ambassador to the United States, Emile Daeschner, had arrived from Washington "to attend the Lafayette fête tonight at the Astor."  The article noted, "Mr. Daeschner will be a guest at a dinner which Mrs. Chanler will give just before the fête at her home, 145 East Nineteenth Street."

It would be among the last entertainments for the Chanlers here.  The couple moved to Europe where William died in 1934.

In the meantime, 145 East 19th Street was the studio and residence of artist Albert Sterner in the mid-1930s.  Coincidentally or not, he was the brother of Frederick J. Sterner, who had remodeled the house two decades earlier.  Born in London in 1863, after moving to New York from Chicago in 1918 he taught at the Art Students League.

Alfred Sterner, from the U.S. National Archives and Records Administration

In 1947, the house was converted to apartments with a doctor's office in the lower level.  There were now a duplex on the former parlor and second floors, and one apartment on the third.  In the remodeling, Sterner's tile panel over the doorway was chopped out and the brick removed.

Nearly half a century later, in 1992, owner Lee Ann Jaffee began reconverting the house to a single-family home.  She hired architect Richard Ayotte to design what The New York Times journalist Christopher Gray described as "a nominally Greek Revival doorway," which, he said, "does not reverse the earlier dilution of the house's character."  Under Ayotte's renovation, said Gray, the house "is also to get back the window lintels it lost long ago, as well as deep parlor windows."

At some point, the doorway was remodeled again, this time in a valiant and overall successful attempt to reproduce the original Sterner appearance.

photographs by the author

From Wagon Works to Mafia Den - 265 Elizabeth Street

 

As the city inched upward in the first decades following the Revolution, in 1816 Elizabeth Street was extended north to Bleecker Street.  Testifying to the increased development in the recently rural area, Houston Street was extended east, intersecting Elizabeth Street in 1833.  A year later, two three-story brick houses appeared at 263 and 265 Elizabeth Street.  The pair was advertised for sale on July 27, 1834 at $7,600 each, or about $140,000 in 2024 terms.

No. 265 seems to have been operated as a boarding house from the beginning.  Among the residents in 1842 was Mrs. Willis, who advertised in the New-York Daily Tribune on September 5, "A Lady, learned in Astrology, will give Ladies private conversations on this science at her Rooms, at No. 265 Elizabeth-st."  The following year, on July 18, 1843, she advertised:

Mrs. Willis, lady of information of future events and what has passed, learned in astrology and astronomy, gives ladies private lectures on this science at her rooms, 265 Elizabeth st...and has constantly on hand corn and cancer salve and a sure cure for the agues, and if any of her medicines is purchased gives information gratis.

Malvina Harris lived here from 1845 through 1847.  The unmarried woman taught in the Girls Department of School No. 14 on Houston Street near Essex.

As was common, in the rear yard of 265 Elizabeth Street was a smaller house.  The Rickets family occupied it in 1851 when a horrific accident occurred.  On Sunday morning, November 9, daughter Henrietta was preparing to attend Sunday school when her clothes "caught fire from a red hot stove," as reported by The New York Times.  Before anyone could reach her, she was horrifyingly burned.  The article said, "Death speedily released the unfortunate child from her sufferings."

The ground floor of the house was remodeled around 1852.  It was almost assuredly at this time that an Italianate cornice and handsome pressed metal lintels were introduced.  A carriage bay was installed and the residential entrance moved to the southern end.  In 1853, Matthias M. Danser operated his wheelwright business here, building and repairing carriage wheels, while his family lived upstairs.  Sharing the upper portion was the family of William Lewers, an undertaker.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Danser lived and ran his business here through 1873, his family continuing to take in one or two working class boarders.  In 1856, for instance, they were Francis Egbert, a painter; and James A Hopper, a "brassfinisher."

The property was purchased by Jacob Weeks around 1875.  It was one of several Manhattan properties he owned.  Weeks leased the building, the upper floors of which continued to house boarders.  Living here in 1876 was the Campbell family.  Both John H. and William Campbell were blacksmiths.  Interestingly, they did not work in the ground floor shop, but at 311 Mulberry Street.  Also living in the house were two widows, Alice McAvoy and Catherine O'Melia.

John Tuorney was a "stock cutter," a job which either entailed cutting wooden molding strips to size, or cutting fabric in an apparel shop.  The 30-year-old lived here in 1882 when he purchased a new hat on July 3 and went to what The New York Times called, "'Tommy' Stanton's groggery, No. 27 Spring-street, which has a side entrance in Mott street."  Several young men drinking at the bar made "pleasantries at his expense" over the hat.  Tuorney became angry, invited the men to step outside, and they all left by the Mott Street entrance.

A fight followed, during which Tuorney either fell or was knocked down, hitting his head on the curbstone.  He was taken unconscious to the Mulberry Street police station.  Since his wound did not appear to be serious, the sergeant was preparing to lock him up on a charge of intoxication, when Tuorney's brother interceded.  He convinced the sergeant to have John taken to St. Vincent's Hospital.  He died there the following morning.  The bartender, Thomas Sullivan, was arrested after he admitted "that he threw Tuorney down in a scuffle."

Jacob Weeks died in 1881.  His estate continued to manage the property and George W. Weeks moved into 265 Elizabeth that year, supervising several of the Weeks estate holdings from the address.

In 1887, John and George J. Stier purchased the building and installed their Central Wagon Works in the ground floor.  The operation was reflected in the help-wanted ads they placed.  One, in November 1897, for instance, read, "Wagon Painter Wanted to sandpaper & prime."  In June 1899, an advertisement read, "Helper wanted in smith and wagon shop," and two months later an ad sought a "Good smith helper."

By 1901, George J. Stier ran the business alone.  He employed nine men that year, who worked 59 hours a week.  In the meantime, the upper floors were now occupied by Italian immigrants.  Living here in 1903 were the families of Prilijo Emanuel, Marco Micali, Salvatore Nuccio, and Rizzo Salvatore.  

In 1903, Stier converted the basement level to a social hall.  It doubled as the headquarters of the Rockmen and Excavators' Union and was the scene of lively meetings that year when the union went on strike during the excavation of the subway.  The overwhelming percentage of the workers were Italian.  On May 24, 1903, The New York Times commented, "It was stated that over 8,000 Italian laborers are engaged in picket duty."

Perhaps the first hint that not all the residents of 265 Elizabeth Street were law-abiding came on August 29, 1909.  The New York Times reported that detectives had arrested "three young Italians upon the charge of having robbed the loft of S. Berkowitz."  Among them was 19-year-old Frank Lovello, who lived here.

Antonio Polvino and his wife were residents in 1911.  The 26-year-old opened a grocery store at 248 Elizabeth Street.  The property was described by Fire Marshall Baera as a "crowded tenement" housing 160 persons.  Polvino stocked the store with $500 worth of merchandise, then took out a $2,500 fire insurance policy.  At 11:40 on the night of October 8, 1911, fire broke out in the grocery.

Inspectors later discovered the floor and counters of the store were soaked in kerosene.  The New York Evening World reported, "A fire had been started by a timed candle in a pile of excelsior, over which had been suspended two beef bladders filled with kerosene."  By the time firefighters responded, the blaze had cut off the stairway and the residents were crowded onto the fire escapes.   Thankfully, all 0f them were rescued.

The fire marshal went to 265 Elizabeth Street, where Mrs. Polvino said her husband was not at home, "he had gone to a ball."  Police looked for Antonio Polvino for four days before finding him attempting to sneak into his father's home by a back door.

George Stier leased the social hall to Corregio Emma around this time.  He opened a billiard parlor, but soon ran into serious trouble.  He later told officials he was "building up a good trade" when members of the notorious and dangerous Black Hand began congregating there.  On October 13, 1913, The Daily Argus reported, "The paying patrons left.  Members of the gang began to borrow money from Emma, he says, and he was afraid to refuse them or to keep them out of the place."

When Emma's finances suffered, the gang "suggested to him that they put a bomb in front of the rival billiard room to terrorize the owner."  The bomb exploded on September 28, 1913.  Emma was "drawn into another job" at 108th Street and Third Avenue.  He found himself trapped.  "Fear impelled him to join them, he says, and he went with them and picked out likely spots to place the bomb."  Corregio Emma's predicament was soon ended. On October 13, The New York Times reported that seven gang members had been arrested, including Emma.  They were accused of setting 68 "bomb jobs."

At some point after the end of World War I, Sebastiano Nuccio, whose family had lived here since 1903, purchased the building.  His sons would become well known to police in the succeeding decades.

Perhaps the first time New Yorkers read John Nuccio's name was on April 2, 1932 when the Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported that he, Mario Nuccio and Frank Fatteriso were charged with the abduction of Betty Encke.  The article said she was discovered in a "thug lair" and noted, "John Nuccio was also charged with receiving stolen goods and violation of the Sullivan law."  (The Sullivan Act required gun owners to have licenses.)

On the night of August 16, 1945, John Nuccio and his cousin, Peter Simonetti, went to Club 78 on Broadway.  (Simonetti had been questioned by police three times about the murder of Vincent Zaccaro a year earlier.)  The men met Evelyn Delany, a nightclub hostess, there.  The Evening Post said Evelyn "was on the scene when Alvin Karpis, gangster, shot his way out of an Atlantic City hotel in 1938."  The three "were parked in the deserted quiet of Elizabeth St.," according to the newspaper.  (The license plates on the car, police later learned, were stolen.)  

Suddenly, a man appeared at the driver's side window.  The Evening Post reported he, "slipped the muzzle of a double-barreled shot gun through the left front window and fired both barrels through the driver's head."  Simonetti was killed instantly.  Evelyn was slightly injured, while John Nuccio was unharmed.

On November 17, 1948, the Peekskill, New York Evening Star reported that five men, "two of them brothers" were arrested "in a raid on a 500-gallon whiskey still."  The article said, "Vincent Nuccio, thirty-six, and his brother, Frank, twenty-six, both of 265 Elizabeth Street, New York...had leased the farm" on which the still was discovered.  If police thought the arrests would end the operation, they were mistaken.

Two years later, on November 7, 1950, The Daily Freeman of Kingston, New York reported that Frank and Vincent Nuccio were among six indicted for "operating an alleged illegal still" on the Josephine Galente property, "Villa Galente," in New Paltz, New York.  Federal officials said they, "found 18,000 gallons of mash, 600 gallons of alcohol, a large quantity of sugar, two automobiles and a truck" on the property. 

The brothers' names continued to appear in newspapers for their illegal activities.  On January 8, 1966, the Nassau, New York newspaper Newsday reported that John S. Nuccio, "a reputed Cosa Nostra member," was arrested "at a rural hideout near Newburgh, New York."  State police said he "had been wanted on a Federal warrant for conspiracy to smuggle heroin since Dec. 1 when an international smuggling ring was smashed in New York and New Jersey."  It was John Nuccio's last arrest.  He died in prison while serving a 15-year sentence.

The Nuccio family was still living at 265 Elizabeth Street in 1982 when Vincent Peter Nuccio, now 71, was listed by Congress as a member of the Luchese Organized Crime Network.  At the time, the facade of 265 Elizabeth Street was painted white and the cornice was gone.

A fuzzy tax photo from 1983 shows a painted facade and missing cornice.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Change came in 1998 when the ground floor was converted to a restaurant, Rialto.  Inside New York commented in 2008, "First time visitors are consistently wowed by the understated ambience and first-rate Italian/Continental food at this gastrono9mically ambitious NoLIta eatery."  Rialto made way for Elizabeth in 2008.  That restaurant was replaced by The Musket Room in 2013.

A renovation completed sometime after 2008 removed the paint from the brick and added a period-appropriate cornice.  Today there are two apartments per floor in the building.

photograph by the author

The Puzzling Anomaly at 41 Bank Street

 

photo by Jason Kessler

On April 30, 1890, James W. Ketcham purchased the house-and-store at the northeast corner of West 4th and Bank Street from Mary E. Faitoute, paying $24,000 for it and the "two-story frame (brick front) stable on rear," as reported by the Record & Guide.  The price would translate to about $829,000 in 2024.

The West 4th Street house had been erected in 1836.  Ketcham raised its peaked attic to a third floor before selling the property a year later, on April 4, 1891, to John S. Mortimer.  Mortimer renovated the store to a saloon, demolished the stable, and erected a one-story extension at 41 Bank Street.  It served as the residential entrance to the upper floors.

On August 29, 1895, The New York Times reported, "Patrick McIntyre...who was found unconscious Sunday morning at the side entrance to the saloon of John Mortimer, 41 Bank Street, died yesterday."  McIntyre was the well-to-do owner of the Tally-Ho Stables on West 15th Street.  Although McIntyre had left his home that night with "considerable money," according to his son, and his wallet was missing when he was found, police "could find no evidence of foul play," according to the article.

The building caught fire on December 6, 1905.  As Engine No. 72 responded, chaos ensued.  The Evening Post reported that the tender smashed into a runabout in which Henry Cherry and James McGuire were riding at 12th Street and Fifth Avenue, and the battalion chief's wagon "knocked down and bruised" an aged woman at Bleecker and Bank Streets.  The fire damage to 41 Bank Street was minimal, but Cherry and McGuire both suffered broken bones and contusions.

The Mortimer family sold 301 West 4th Street and 41 Bank Street to Stuyvesant Wainwright in 1922.  Around the same time he acquired 303 and 305 West 4th Street and 39 Bank Street.  Six years later, The New York Times said he "remodeled them in an artistic manner and named the group Rosebank."  It was most likely at this time that the distinctive Federal style doorway was installed at 41 Bank Street.  

The entrance is nearly identical to those at 327 and 329 West 4th Street, erected in 1829, and was most likely salvaged from a neighborhood house.  The original, eight-paneled door is flanked by fluted Ionic columns and two half-columns.  They front narrow sidelights and wood carved to resemble stone blocks.  Delicate egg-and-dart carving embellishes the cornice below the transom.

photo by Jason Kessler

The surprising little building at 41 Bank Street prompts a double-take from passersby.  It continues to serve as the residential entrance to the West 4th Street structure.

many thanks to reader Jason Kessler for suggesting this post

Schwartz & Gross's 1917 300 West End Avenue

 

On New Year's Day 1916, the Record & Guide reported that the Paterno Construction Company had commissioned Gaetan Ajello to design an apartment house at the northeast corner of West End Avenue and 74th Street.  "The structure will be equipped throughout with every modern appliance, containing quarters for thirteen families," said the article.  But something went awry.  Ten months later, on October 14, the journal noted that Schwartz & Gross was now working on the plans.

The 13-story building was completed in 1917 at a cost of $250,000, or about $5.9 million by 2024 conversion.  Faced in Flemish bond brick and trimmed in limestone, granite and terra cotta, its Colonial Revival design included a dignified entrance with engaged Scamozzi pilasters and a sweeping arched pediment filled with intricate carvings.  Stone bandcourses relieved the visual bulk of the building, and a parapet with stone roundels took the place of a cornice.

An advertisement in The Sun on September 30, 1917 offered a "high class corner apartment" of 12 rooms and five baths, noting, "building just completed."

The sprawling apartments became home to well-to-do families, like Robert Edison Fulton, a vice-president of the International Motor Company, and his family; Horace M. Kilborn, vice-president of the National City Bank; and Ezra Johnson Travis.

Travis's life story was fascinating.  Born in Greenville, Pennsylvania in 1844, Travis served in the Civil War as a scout before going into cattle ranching in Montana.  Known as "Jot," he was a partner in the pioneering firm of Gilner & Salisbury, which became one of the largest stage coach companies in the West.  It led to his landing Government contracts to carry mail via stage throughout the West.  He later held contracts for transporting mail in Chicago, Philadelphia and New York.  The wealthy widower died at the age of 75 on July 12, 1919.

Ezra "Jot" Johnson Travis in his earlier years.  (original source unknown)

The Spregelberg family were also initial tenants.  The country entered World War I months after 300 West End Avenue opened, and Sidney L. Spregelberg went off to fight in Europe.  Tragically, on August 3, 1918, his name appeared on a list of casualties published by the New-York Tribune.  The young lieutenant had died of disease.

Horace M. Kilborn's apartment faced southwest, overlooking the massive Charles M. Schwab mansion and the Hudson River.  On the evening of May 14, 1920, he was watching the sunset when something caught his eye on the Schwab grounds.  The Sun reported, "He saw a man walk in through the main gate, run to the door and ring several times.  On getting no response the stranger took off his hat and waved it several times, shouting."

The caretaker did not seem to be around, so Kilborn took matters into his own hands.  He went into sleuth mode, going downstairs and following the interloper around for about half an hour.  Eventually, the man went into the watchman's house on West End Avenue and asked Fred Forms for 50 cents.  He told Forms he needed a place to sleep.  Kilborn had heard enough and found a policeman who arrested Frederick Grant Gresham.

At the 68th Street station house, the 38-year-old insisted he was a stock broker with Smith & Co. on Wall Street.  His excuse for being on the Schwab estate was inventive.  "He said he wanted to get advice from Mr. Schwab on how to prevent annoyance of his mother and sister, living in Chicago, by certain persons," reported The Sun.

Among the Kilborns' neighbors were Claude W. Kress and his wife, the former Agatha F. Sheehan.  Kress came from a colonial family, his first American descendant arriving from Germany in 1752.  He was the president of S. H. Kress & Co., a nationwide chain of 5, 10 and 25 cent stores.  

In January 1921, police were dealing with what The Evening World described as "the anarchist bomb plot scare."  Tensions rose after a telephoned tip on January 12 sent Secret Service men on a hunt for a bomb in the Customs House.  The following day a servant in the Kress apartment read the story.  When a package was delivered late that afternoon, she panicked.  The Evening World reported, "C. W. Kress was in the library of his home at No. 300 West End Avenue when his housekeeper brought in what she called a 'suspicious package' which had come by express from Anatol, N. J."  Kress agreed that it was suspect and called the Bureau of Combustibles.

The Bomb Squad removed the package to "a lonely spot at 74th Street and the North [i.e. Hudson] River and opened it," said the article.  Inside were 14 pieces of Dresden china.  The Evening World reported, "'Goodness me,' said the housekeeper, 'I ordered that and forgot all about it.'"

Marcus and Carrie Loew lived here at the time.  Their country estate was in Glen Cove, New York.  Born in 1870 to a poor Jewish family on the Lower East Side, Loew saved money he earned from small jobs and invested it in the penny arcade business.  Eventually he established the Loew Theatres, a leading chain of vaudeville and motion picture theaters.  In 1920, he purchased Metro Pictures Corporation, and later acquired the controlling interest in Goldwyn Picture Corporation.  In 1924 the two would merge into Metro-Goldwyn Pictures.

Marcus Loew lived in the building when this photographs was taken in 1922.  from the collection of the Library of Congress.

Marcus Loew was the recipient of what The Evening World on May 29, 1922 called "a curious bequest."  The will of millionaire attorney Charles Reinhardt directed his executors "to purchase a 'suitable diamond stud' for him," said the article.

In 1958, actor and singer Harry Belafonte had achieved stardom.  His 1956 album Calypso was the first million-selling LP by a single artist, and he had a starring role in the 1954 motion picture Carmen Jones.  He married Julie Robinson, his second wife, on March 8, 1957.  In his autobiography My Song: A Memoir of Art, Race and Defiance, Belafonte writes, "Julie and I fell in love with a four-bedroom rental at 300 West End Avenue, one of those great old drafty Upper West Side apartments with not only a living room but a library and pantry."  The problem was, when they arrived to tour the apartment, it was suddenly rented.

Belefonte's publicist, Mike Merrick, who was white, went to see the apartment.  "Now the lease was readily conferred," Belefonte wrote.  The singer signed the lease with his own name and it was countersigned by the building manager.  He continues:

Apparently the building manager didn't know who I was.  Julie and I moved our furniture in first, then showed up to take occupancy.  Within hours, the building manager became aware he had a Negro as a tenant.  He passed on the word to the building's owner, who didn't like this at all.

The owner was Ramfis Trujillo, described by Belafonte as the "illegitimate son of the dictator of the Dominican Republic."  He writes, "His own skin color was high-yellow Spanish, but he clearly saw himself as white, and in his building he'd maintained the neighborhood's unwritten covenant against blacks."  With a binding one-year lease in hand, Belafonte had no intention of being forced out.  But he was also clearly aware that his lease would not be renewed.

And so, he set up a dummy real estate company, then worked with other friendly tenants to set up two others.  The dummy companies then began a bidding war to buy the building.  Belafonte put up the $2 million to back the project.  He explains in My Song, "Rental properties were growing less profitable for their owners.  The whole concept of co-ops was just starting to take hold."  And, just as the Belafontes' lease was about to expire, the owner accepted the highest bid.  "As most of the other tenants stepped up to buy their apartments, too, the money I'd invested came flowing back," writes Belafonte.

Harry Belafonte in 1954.  from the collection of the Library of Congress

A hold-out was the couple's next door neighbor, a widow.  A compromise was achieved when Belafonte found her a rental in another building, and then paid her the going price for her apartment (even though she did not own it).  The Belafontes then combined the two--creating a 21-room, 7,000-square-foot residence.

Now that the building was resident-owned, Harry Belafonte explains, "our goal was integration, not reverse segregation."  Among the first new owners was singer Lena Horne and her husband, composer Lennie Hayton, who purchased a penthouse.  Bass player Ron Carter purchased an apartment around the same time.

Belafonte writes, 

Julie and I would live in that cavernous apartment for nearly half a century, raising our children and entertaining a glittering array of guests.  Among our first were Martin and Coretta King...Martin would come to think of it as his home away from home, staying with us on many of his New York trips...Soon, Senator John F. Kennedy would come to visit, seeking my endorsement in his race for president.  Eleanor Roosevelt would come to visit, too, though more often we went to see her, driving north to the family compound in Hyde Park, New York, for some of the most rewarding evenings of my life.

Adding to the list of entertainment royalty like Horne and Belafonte at 300 West End Avenue at the turn of the century were Tina Fey and her husband Jeff Richmond.  On January 7, 2016, 6sqft reported that the couple had purchased a second, ten-room apartment directly above theirs.  The article said they "will likely be taking down some floors and walls to create one large duplex."

After more than a century, Schwartz & Gross's dignified brick building maintains a patrician presence on the 74th Street corner.

photographs by the author