As early as 1836, John Hunn leased 228 Elizabeth Street and the "four lots adjoining." He and his partner operated the Field & Hunn "Hide House" at 228 Elizabeth Street, advertising "slaughter hides--1000 middling slaughter hides, averaging from 60 to 70 lbs. for sale" that year. Hunn was one of many residents and business owners in the district to protest again the city's proposed extension of Centre Street from Broome to Houston Street in 1838, arguing that the project was "calculated, not for public benefit, but for the promotion of individual interest."
By 1845, Hunn ran the business alone. On October 28 that year, he promised buyers, "the highest market price for fat and sheep skin," and offered sellers "four cents for all [hides] weight over 60 lbs."
The "hide house" was gone in 1856, replaced by two houses, one in front and another in the rear yard. John Cassidy, a laborer, and his family occupied the front house and William Griffin, another laborer, and Rosanna Levy, the widow of Richard Levy, lived in the rear dwelling.
Around 1872, the the front building was raised to four floors. The ground floor held a store, home to John McCabe's grocery, while the upper floors were crammed with immigrant families, most of them Irish. Seventeen families were listed at the address. They included four shoemakers, three tailors, a plumber and several laborers. Three female occupants listed their occupations as dressmakers.
In November 1880, Charles W. Voltz purchased 228 and 185 Elizabeth Street simultaneously, spending $20,000 for the two properties (about $615,000 in 2024). The grocery store at 228 Elizabeth was slightly renovated to accommodate a butcher shop run by Verando Luigi. (The proprietor's surname reflected the rapidly changing demographics of the neighborhood, from Irish to Italian.)
The butcher shop was converted to a bakery within a few years. It was run by Antonio di Giovanni. Among his workers in 1893 was Marino Giardino.
The residents of the block were plagued by gang violence in the last decade of the century. On March 19, 1893, The Sun noted, "What the police call 'The Leather Shoe Gang' hangs out in Elizabeth street, between Prince and Houston." A day later, The New York World, said, "The gang has lately been successful in its thieving exploits, it is believed, for the hoodlums who compose it have been unusually aggressive for the last three days, attacking many Italians in the neighborhood."
The World reported, "Marino Giardino, a baker, of No. 228 Elizabeth street, having tired of buying immunity from the beating by giving up dimes for the Leather Shoe loafers to rush [to] the growler [i.e., beer mug] resisted late Saturday night their demands for money." Giardino paid the price for his resistance. "Thereupon he was set upon by the gang in front of his own door," said the article. The Sun added that he "was beaten by the gang, and one of them stabbed him in the left shoulder because he would not give them beer money." Two of the members were caught and arrested, but not before the gang stabbed Pietro Venio in the leg shortly after the assault on Giardino.
As with all bakeries, the employees had to be on the job in the early morning hours to get the day's bread and rolls baked. Once that was accomplished, Antonio di Giovanni's staff went downstairs to sleep for about an hour. On February 4, 1896, The Journal reported, "Several bakers were taking a nap yesterday morning in their basement workroom, No. 228 Elizabeth street. One of them waked up and saw a man climbing out of a rear window." The bakers were all soon awake and running down Elizabeth Street after the burglar. When they captured John Brown at the corner of Prince and Mott Streets, they found a silver watch belonging to one of the men in his pocket.
Among the tenants in 1897 was the family of Antonio Dannanzio. When his 18-year-old daughter Pepina did not come home in July that year, he accused Monelli Illusi, a 24-year-old stonecutter, of "enticing" her away from home. Illusi was arrested for abduction. The Sun reported on July 26, "The girl was found locked in Illusi's room."
Another tenant, Emma Martin, died a mysterious death on May 23, 1898. The Sun reported, "the woman had been complaining of heart trouble for some time past." She went to a neighborhood drugstore and bought some medicine. Shortly after taking it, the 38-year-old died. Her husband requested that the coroner perform an autopsy. (The results were never published.)
On August 1, 1900, Antonio di Giovanni leased the entire building. He, perhaps, knew the property was for sale and did not want to lose his bakery. The following month, Bullowa & Bullowa (interestingly, a law firm) purchased 228 Elizabeth Street. Startlingly, the 1900 census shows 81 people living at the address, 75 of whom were Italian immigrants.
Among the new owners' first acts was to request "an inspection of bakery, No. 228 Elizabeth Street," from the Department of Buildings. Then, in August 1903, the architectural firm of Kurtzer & Rentz was hired to remodel the building. The results were striking.
Above the storefront, a dramatic balustraded balcony with two pineapple finials fronted paired French windows. The window configuration--with arched, cast metal surrounds decorated with palmettes and twining vines in the tympana and cherubic faces in the keystones--was copied at the third and fourth floor. The flanking French windows were protected by iron Juliette balconies, their lintels decorated with classical urns. A stepped parapet terminated in a sunburst.
The upper openings were originally romantic, French windows. Image from the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.
Allio Salvatore, who lived here in 1904, was admitted to the Columbus Hospital in November that year with consumption. He had been involved in a feud with another Italian immigrant, Giuseppe Alizea, who lived at 68 Baxter Street. Alizea, fearing that Salvatore might die before he could exact revenge, "deliberately feigned dementia in order to get into the hospital," according to The New York Times on November 20.
The two men ended up in the same ward and another patient, Pino Amelio, told police later "that during the day they had been muttering threats at each other." Alizea found his opportunity when the Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus were at evening prayer. The New York Times reported,
The attention of the lone attendant was first called to the tragedy when he heard loud cries ringing through the corridor. He hurried out to find Salvatore crouching beneath a statue of the Blessed Virgin with his eyes raised appealingly. Above him, with a knife in his hand and uttering fierce maledictions, stood Alizea. Salvatore's face was cut and bleeding, and he was holding his hand over a wound near the heart.
When the attendant rushed to the scene, Alizea walked calmly back to his cot. He brandished his knife at anyone who approached. It was only after a detective knocked the knife from his hand with his nightstick that Alizea could be arrested. "The police, putting two and two together, said that it was the climax of a vendetta," said the article.
The bakery was modernized in December 1909 after architect A. Vendrasco was hired to install a new oven. It was apparently a significant upgrade, costing the equivalent of $19,000 today.
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The history of violence for residents of 228 Elizabeth Street continued into the Depression years. On July 28, 1931, The New York Sun reported, "Gondolfo Avisno, 22 years old, of 228 Elizabeth street, was shot twice about 1:30 A.M. today by gunfire from a moving automobile in Mulberry street, near Prince street." The two men who were walking with Avisno were not hit and they took him to St. Vincent's Hospital in a taxi cab. Avisno was apparently the target of a gang hit. The article said his companions, who obviously did not want to become involved, "rang the bell, and disappeared."
Twenty-five-year-old Joseph Dimaggio (not to be confused with the famous ballplayer) lived here in 1973. The construction worker was at an urban renewal project at West Street and Harrison Street on December 6 that year when his luck seemed to take a miraculous turn for the better. As a Brink's armored truck rumbled by the site, a bag "jolted out of the unlatched door," according to The New York Times. Dimaggio and three co-workers grabbed it. Inside was $16,200 in one-dollar bills.
The Times reported, "The money was reportedly divided up and, at least for a while, no one was the wiser. Brink's knew only that a bag of money and either been lost or stolen from the truck." Dimaggio and his cronies were temporarily richer. But that night, "an anonymous caller tipped the company off."
On Friday morning, before leaving for work, Dimaggio opened his door to detectives. He and the three others were arrested on charges of grand larceny. All the money was recovered.
The former bakery space was home to Kremer Pigments in the 1990s and early 2000s, run by a German chemist, Dr. Georg Kremer. New York magazine said on October 1994, "Forgotten colors are Dr. Georg Kremer's obsession." He created his artists' pigments from natural materials. The magazine described his shop, saying, "Though bare bones and no bigger than a cubbyhole, it's ablaze with color."
Today an eyewear store occupies the ground floor. There are nine rental units in the upper floors.
photographs by the author
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