The Thomas Thompson Eckert Mansion - 38 West 86th Street

 

Real estate developer William H. Hall, Jr. sold the newly built mansion at 38 West 86th Street on February 25, 1908.  The New York Herald remarked, "The buyer is understood to be a resident of the Fifth avenue section, the in-roads of business having driven him to seek a home in the west side."  Hall's reluctant buyer was General Thomas Thompson Eckert, Sr.

As commerce invaded his formerly exclusive Fifth Avenue neighborhood, Eckert had resolutely refused to leave 545 Fifth Avenue, his home for decades.  But now the city was widening the thoroughfare and ordered that the front of the house had to be chopped off.  Eckert had no choice but to move.

No. 38 West 86th Street was one a row of eight 25-foot-wide homes designed by Welch, Smith & Provot.  Sitting upon a rusticated limestone base, its red brick midsection was trimmed in limestone, and its fifth floor took the form of a steep, slate shingled mansard with two brick dormers.  Eckert paid $80,000 for the residence, equal to nearly $2.75 million in 2024.

The general's sentimental ties to his former home resulted in his reworking Welch, Smith & Provot's interiors.  A massive redecorating took place to--as closely as possible--reproduce the interiors of the Fifth Avenue residence.  The New York Evening Telegram reported, 

Wall paper was imported from Europe to match the paper in the General's old library and bedroom.  Woodwork was repainted in exact imitation of that in the old home.  Shades, draperies and even pictures were duplicated or the originals placed in the new house and in the places where they had been.     

The interior decoration took over a year.  Eckert and his family moved into the house in November 1909.

General Thomas T. Eckert.  photograph by Mathew Brady, from the collection of the Library of Congress.

Born on April 23, 1825 in St. Clairesville, Ohio, Eckert became interested in the telegraph as a young man.  He came to New York in 1847 with the sole purpose of seeing the Morse telegraph in operation.  The trip resulted in his becoming an operator and returning to Ohio to work with the Wade Telegraph Company.

In 1861, Eckert was ordered to Washington D.C., assigned to General George B. McCellan's headquarters as aide-de-camp in charge of military telegraph operations.  He organized and oversaw the War Department's telegraph system.  Eckert was one of two confidential emissaries for Abraham Lincoln and Secretary of War Edwin Stanton.

In 1866, Stanton appointed Eckert Assistant Secretary of War.  Through their close working relationship, Thomas Eckert became close friends with the President.  Edwin Stanton was protective of Lincoln, and when the President invited General Grant and his wife to attend Ford's Theatre with him and Mary Todd Lincoln, Stanton convinced Grant to decline, hoping to dissuade the President from a public appearance.  Lincoln then invited Eckert and his wife, Emeline.  Stanton forbade him from accepting.  The Secretary of War's fervent attempts were to no avail.  That night, Eckert rushed to the War Department and telegraphed General Ulysses S. Grant, "The President was assassinated at Ford's Theatre at 10:30 tonight & cannot live."

After the war, Eckert joined the Western Union Telegraph Company, eventually becoming president in 1893.  He retired in 1900, retaining his seat as chairman of the board of directors.

Eckert and his wife, the former Emeline Dore Whitney, who died on November 4, 1868, had two sons, Thomas, Jr. and James Clendenin.  Eckert's second wife, Joanna Rice, died in 1902.  Thomas Jr. lived in the West 86th Street house with his father.  (He took the position of president of the Western Union Telegraph Company following his father's retirement.)  The Eckert summer home, Heart's Content, was in West End, New Jersey.

In June 1910, six months after moving into the town house, the Eckerts went to Heart's Content.  They were still there on September 2 when, while preparing to go to bed, General Eckert, "in turning around suddenly fractured his right thigh," as reported by The New York Times.  He would never return to the Manhattan house he had so carefully and sentimentally decorated.  He died in the New Jersey house on October 20 at the age of 85.

Surprisingly, less than a month later, Thomas, Jr. announced his engagement.  Perhaps as shocking to society as the breach of mourning protocol was the bride-to-be.  Mary Eagan was hired as a maid in the Eckerts' Fifth Avenue home in 1901.  The Brooklyn Standard Union said, "Tom Eckert fell in love with her at once."  As it turned out, General Eckert was not only aware of the romance, but was involved in the wedding plans, theretofore unannounced.

"The secret was kept for several years," explained The Brooklyn Standard Union, "but Gen. Eckert learned of it.  He was greatly pleased and helped make plans for the wedding, which was to take place Oct. 13."  Now, the Irish-born servant girl known as Minnie, "will become the mistress of Heart's Content, the country place at West End, N. J., as well as the town house at 38 West Eighty-sixth street, Manhattan."

Thomas and Minnie Eckert would have a short time to enjoy their wedded bliss before problems arose for the family.  First, James Clendenin Eckert sued to have the will overturned.  Eckert had left Thomas the bulk of the estate, citing "my appreciation of his loving care and attention."  James (who was known by his middle name), on the other hand, had borrowed significant sums of money from his father over the years, and never repaid it.  Clendenin claimed "undue influence" on the part of his brother in the terms of the will.

As that drama played, out, on April 4, 1911, the Wisconsin newspaper The Kenosha Evening News reported, "A short, portly woman came into Surrogate Cohalan's office and announced that she was Mrs. E. L. Davis, the widow of Gen. Thomas T. Eckert, former head of the Western Union Telegraph company, whose two sons have been fighting for his millions since his death last October."  The woman claimed she was entitled to "at least one-third of the real estate of General Eckert as his widow."

Mrs. Davis, according to The Sun, was also known as Mrs. Dore.  She claimed that after taking a touring car with Eckert  to a minister's house in 1908 and being married, the general had given her the deed to 38 West 86th Street.  In court, Clendenin testified that his father refused to ride in motorcars.  "I have had cars since 1902.  He could never be induced to ride in any of them, nor would he ride in my brother's cars."

The woman was eventually identified as Louise Dore.  She was committed to the Middletown State Hospital as insane in October 1911, ending that portion of the estate litigation.

Two months later, on December 16, 1911, The New York Times ran the headline, "Eckert Will Upheld; Son Loses Suit / An Appeal Is Not Likely."  Indeed, an appeal was filed and the bitter fight between the brothers dragged on until December 1915.  On the 15th, The Sun titled an article, "Eckert Estate Row Ends" and reported that James Clendenin Eckert "won a court decision granting him a half interest in the many millions left by his father."  Included within the half of the estate that Thomas was granted was the 86th Street house, which he and Minnie had been occupying the entire time.

With the unpleasant litigation behind him, Thomas and Minnie purchased a summer home in Pittsfield, Massachusetts in 1916.  He was still president of Western Union Telegraph Company when he died there on November 21, 1931 at the age of 76.  He was buried downtown in a vault at Old St. Patrick's Cathedral.

On June 4, 1958, The New York Times reported that the estate of Mary A. Eckert had sold 38 West 86th Street to the Cathedral College for $65,000 (about $685,000 in 2024).  The preparatory seminary of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of New York announced it would use the mansion, "as a residence hall for students of the college."  A renovation completed the following year resulted in a dining room and foyer on the first floor; the priests' dining room, chapel and parlor on the second; and bedrooms and dormitories on the upper floors.

Nearly half a century later, in 2000, the house was converted for use as the academic building and library of the Bard Graduate Center.  The institute offers two programs, one for Masters of Arts degree candidates, and the other for Ph.D. candidates.

photographs by the author

The Lost Holyrood Episcopal Church - Broadway and 181st Street

 

At around the last turn of the century, development encroached onto the recently bucolic setting.  photo by Thaddeus Wilkerson, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

R. D. Chandler used only his initials professionally.  The prolific architect was based in Fair Haven, New Jersey and was responsible for designs over wide-spread locations.  On one day alone, on May 14, 1898, for instance, Chandler filed plans for a two-story cottage in Elberon, New Jersey; a frame residence in Red Bank, New Jersey; and a public school at Fairhaven, New Jersey.  Three years earlier, he had commissioned a church building in the rural Fort Washington Heights district.

Born in Plainfield, New Jersey, Episcopalian Rev. William Oliver Embury earned his L.L. B. degree in 1866 from Columbia College.  In the 1880s, he was rector of the Anthon Memorial Church in West 48th Street before becoming involved with the Sisters of St. Mary far north in Inwood.  Rev. Embury was chaplain of the order's The House of Refuge for Problem Girls.  In 1893, he established a parish, the Holyrood.

Embury's pastoral site sat on the southwest corner of Broadway and 181st Street, surrounded with farmland and summer estates.  R. D. Chandler produced a one-story vernacular structure clad in fieldstone befitting to the country setting.  A sturdy porch sheltered the entrance and the corner tower rose to the belfry under a pyramidal cap.  Importantly, Chandler forewent the Gothic style in favor of more provincial square-headed openings.

A wooden picket fence surrounds the original structure.  from Fort Washington, 1902 (copyright expired)

The neighborhood around Holywood Episcopal Church was historic.  The Brooklyn Daily Eagle said, "The church is known as the Little Church at the old fort."  It had been the site of Fort Washington and on November 16, 1776, was the scene of the Battle of Fort Washington when the British devastated George Washington's army.

On the 125th anniversary of the battle, on November 16, 1901, "A marble, bronze and granite memorial commemorating the battle of Fort Washington was unveiled," reported the Brooklyn Daily Eagle.  The impressive ceremony included a police platoon, the 8th Artillery Band of the U.S. Army, two companies of the U.S. Coast Artillery, and, "Then came the colors of the Empire State society, Sons of the Revolution, with a guard composed of delegations of the two continental organizations," and the "bank of the New York Juvenile Asylum and three platoons of the boys from the Deaf and Dumb Asylum brought up the rear."

A second historical plaque was installed the following year, on September 23, 1902.  The Evening Post reported, "Mollie Pitcher was not the only woman who fought in the war of the Revolution."  That day the Mary Washington Colonial Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution unveiled the tablet in honor of Margaret Corbin.  After the war, Corbin had been recognized by Congress.

In reporting about the ceremony, The Bulletin explained,

Margaret Corbin was the wife of John Corbin, a patriot in the war for Independence.  He was in charge of a piece of artillery at fort Washington when the fort was assailed by the Hessian troops.  Margaret Corbin stood at her husband's side as he fired the gun.  When he was killed by a rifle shot she sprang to his place and kept the gun in action until she was herself shot and disabled.

On October 4, 1903, The Sun reported that plans had been filed for a "parish house, 30 feet front and 125 feet deep."  The article noted it "will contain a clubroom, gymnasium, bowling alleys, meeting hall and Sunday school and also a library for the Women's Guild of the church."  The cost of the extension was $9,000--about $321,000 in 2024 terms.

Holyrood Episcopal Church was the custodian of a significant collection of Revolutionary relics within the new parish house.  Among them, according to the New-York Tribune on August 7, 1904, were, "Exploded shells, bent spikes, broken bayonets and swords, a bent lance head and other weapons, in one case with the bones of the dead attached."  The article said in part,

The collection includes buttons of the 16th Foot, the regiment taken by "Mad" Anthony Wayne at Stony Point in 1779, the 23d Welsh Fusiliers, which fought in every engagement of the war; the 10th Regiment, which took part in the attack on Fort Washington, and the 44th, which was engaged in the building the earthworks still bearing the names of King George and Governor William Tryon.

In the guild room of the parish house was "a great fireplace built entirely of stones and bricks from old Colonial fireplaces and Revolutionary houses," said The Sun, later.

The historic fireplace.  New-York Tribune Illustrated Supplement, August 7, 1904 (copyright expired)

In only fifteen years after Holywood Episcopal Church opened its doors, the Fort Washington district was bustling with development.  On June 4, 1910, the Record & Guide reported, "The trustees of the Holyrood Church at the southwest corner of Broadway and 181st st., have voted to accept an offer for the church and site, which is said to exceed $200,000."   (The article mentioned the property "cost $30,000 15 years ago.")

With the massive windfall, equal to $6.62 million today, the congregation planned to erect "a new church in the English perpendicular Gothic style," nearby at 179th Street and Fort Washington Avenue.

When this photograph was taken around 1910, the church property was engulfed by apartment buildings.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

The following year, on September 23, 1911, the Record & Guide reported, "The picturesque churchyard which once made the Holywood chapel at 181st street and Broadway so attractive has disappeared and two-story brick taxpayers cover the site."

Today's site.  photograph by Jesus Rodriguez

thanks for reader Jim Lesses to prompted this post

The Henry Rehwinkel House - 288 Mulberry Street

 

Mulberry Street, which got its name from an 18th century grove of mulberry trees, appeared on maps as early as 1767.  But it would not be until the first decades of the 18th century that the expanding city brought Federal style dwellings to the little thoroughfare.  Around 1830, one appeared at 288 Mulberry Street, steps from Houston Street.  Faced in Flemish bond brick, the house was two-and-a-half stories tall above a basement and 21-feet wide.  One or two dormers originally pierced the peaked roof.

It appears the residence was originally operated as a boarding house.  Living here in 1832 were carpenter Isaac M. Washburn; James Velderan, who was a furrier; grocer Nehemiah Mead; and Richard B. Fletcher, who did not list an occupation, suggesting he may have been retired.

The house and lot were offered for sale in December 1849.  It continued as a boarding house under the new owner.  Mary T. Whitney lived here the following year.  A dressmaker, she would remain at least through 1854.  Also boarding in the house in 1850 were John Lynch, a clerk; George Donelly, who was in the carriage business; and harness maker John Dempsey.

In 1853, Henry Schmale and his family moved in.  The industrious entrepreneur listed his profession as "coal & grocer."  By 1856 (when he now lived at 579 Washington Street), the owner had converted the basement level for Schmale's coal office.  He had another on Washington Street and a piano business at 100 Centre Street.

A gruesome incident occurred here on June 9, 1855.  The New-York Dispatch reported, "A Frenchman named Alfred Dumont, suffocated himself with the flames of charcoal at 288 Mulberry street."  The article attributed his desperation to jealousy.  "He had been living with a woman for some years," it said, "to whom he was not married, although she had had two children by him."  The woman recently left him for another man and "he sought relief from all his worldly troubles by acting as stated."

The boarders were working class throughout the 1860's.  They included John and James Cunningham, presumably brothers, a carpenter and laborer, respectively.  Also living here in 1860 were Conrad Farner, a tailor; Louis Jackson a smith; and laborer Francis McCormick.

In 1871, the family of Hugh O'Brien occupied the house.  He was an assistant alderman and he and his wife had a son, William J.  Also living in the house were Hugh O'Brien's brother, Martin; his widowed mother; and an orphaned nephew, Thomas Francis Jones.  Boarding with the the family were Henry Rehwinkel, a barber, and his family.  

It was around this time that the attic floor was raised to a full story.  Somewhat surprisingly, instead of a bracketed cornice, the contractor finished the facade with a simple, dentiled brick cornice more appropriate to the original 1830 structure.

Rehwinkel converted the former H. Schmale & Co. office in the basement to his barbershop.  He and his wife, Wilhelmina, had four sons, Ferdinand, Andrew, Frederick, and Christopher.  

A year after they established themselves here, tragedy struck.  On August 15, 1872, The New York Times reported, "Christopher Rehwinkel, aged three years, fell out of the third-story window" of the house.  The article erroneously said he, "was fatally injured."  Although Christopher survived the fall, he lost the use of his right arm for life.

The parlor was the scene of Thomas Francis Jones's funeral on December 13, 1874.  The 26-year-old had died two days earlier.  Interestingly, the New York Herald said the funeral would take place, "from the resident of his grandmother, Mrs. John O'Brien," and mentioned "ex-alderman Hugh O'Brien" merely as an uncle.

New Yorkers were outraged when they read in the New York Herald on June 16, 1876, "Frederick Rehwinkel, a youth of sixteen years...is in such a critical condition from a clubbing received five weeks ago at the hands of Officer Thomas Mitchell, of the Fourteenth precinct, that the doctors fear he may not recover."

The article said that on May 7, Rehwinkel, "who is employed in his father's barber shop," stopped at the corner of Mulberry and Jersey Streets to watch a group of boys "pitching pennies and playing marbles."  When Officer Mitchell appeared, the other boys scattered.  He unleashed his rage on Rehwinkel, beating him repeatedly with his nightstick.  Because his father had told him to avoid the location, Frederick did not tell his parents what had happened.  Instead, said the New York Herald, he "staggered home and washed the blood from his face and clothes."  He was then confined to bed for three days.

It was not until Wilhemina Rehwinkel called in Dr. Wolfkin Smith that Frederick told his story.  Henry Rehwinkel preferred a complaint against the officer and a trial was set for June 24.

On the stand, Frederick's story began to unravel.  On June 25, the New York Dispatch reported, "The case from its inception had the flavor of a 'put-up' job,' and one of the morning papers was foolish enough to herald it forth as a terrible police outrage."  When confronted on the stand by Officer Mitchell, Frederick changed his story.  Police Surgeon Fluhrer testified that he had examined the teen and found he was suffering from pneumonia, not a beating.  He said he, "did not discover any marks of clubbing on his person."  Finally, Frederick admitted that "a man named Mahon, whom he knew as 'the man with the big foot,'" according to the New York Dispatch, had convinced him to concoct the story.

Martin O'Brien died of Bright's disease at the age of 39 on April 8, 1879.  His funeral was held in the house the following day.

Two years later, on August 23, 1881, the Rehwinkels purchased the house for $8,500 (about $261,000 in 2024).  They took in a boarder by 1886.  Thomas Carroll was a park keeper with the city and remained with the family at least through 1887.

Despite the injury he received in the 1872 fall, Christopher Rehwinkel got a job with a watchmaker on Houston Street by the time he was 18.  On the evening of February 1887, he left the house with jewelry he had taken to sell on commission.  The following day, the New-York Tribune reported, "A young German whose right arm is paralyzed [reported] that he had been knocked down, choked and robbed in Mulberry-st., within a block of [his house]."  The article explained when Christopher crossed the street at 8:00, he noticed a gang of boys, one of whom, Edward Collins, he recognized.  The newspaper said they, "had not been on good terms."

Collins, said the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, "knocked him down and held him by the throat."  His comrades then "kicked and cuffed him and then ran away."  They made off with the four gold rings Rehwinkel was supposed to sell.  Collins was arrested.  While he admitted striking Rehwinkel, he denied having helped rob him.  

By 1900, Wilhelmina and Henry were empty nesters and Henry had retired.  Rocco Nardiello was leasing the barbershop.  If neighbors viewed them as a kindly old German couple, a scandal that year would change their opinions.

Andrew Rehwinkel, who was a painter, and his wife, Minnie, a servant, lived in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn.  The couple had two sons, 11-year-old Harry and 5-year-old Charlie.  In March 1900, Andrew and Minnie separated.  Andrew placed the boys with a family on East 17th Street, paying their board.  But when he lost his job early in July and could no longer afford the cost, he took them to his brother Ferdinand's home.  It worked out for two weeks until Ferdinand, too, lost his job.

Ferdinand was unable to find his brother, so he told the boys that his grandparents would take care of them for awhile.  It appears that Ferdinand was not so certain his parents would be so welcoming to the idea.  He took Harry and Charlie to 288 Mulberry Street on the evening of July 17, rang the doorbell, then left.  Little Charlie later said, "When grandpop came to the door he was mad and said he didn't have no home for us.  Then grandma came along and said for us to go away.  They shut the door, and Harry took me for a walk."

After wandering the neighborhood, the boys returned to 288 Mulberry, "'cause grandpop is the only man we know," Charlie later explained.  The following morning, according to The Sun, "Two little boys with tear-stained faces lay sound asleep, clasped in each other's arms. on the front stoop of the house at 288 Mulberry street, early yesterday morning."  When a passerby roused them and asked why they did not not go home, Charlie answered, "Ain't got no home, mister."

"Well, what are you doing here?"

"This is grandpop's.  He don't want Harry and me and we don't know where to go."

The man went to the Mulberry Police Station and reported the situation.  Policeman McMahon arrived and Charlie repeated the story.  McMahon climbed the stoop and rang the bell.  When he got no answer, he, "planted his department shoe on one of the panels of the door.  He repeated this until an old man opened the door," said The Sun.

An enraged Henry Rehwinkel demanded, "What do you mean waking respectable folks..." but was interrupted by the cop.

"Respectable folks, eh?  Do you call yourselves respectable folks, leaving a couple of kids like these out on the stoop all night?"

Rehwinkel slammed the door and refused to open it again.  McMahon took the boys to the police station, then "made right for the Mulberry street house, and there was wrath in his eye," said The Sun.  "He rang the bell, kicked the door a few times, and finally got a response from a window."  McMahon ordered, "Come down here, you!"

This time Wilhelmina opened the door.  When McMahon began lecturing her on the treatment of little boys, she said, "Well, they shan't come here and you can go and tell the family that, too."

The following day, Officer McMahon appeared in court with the boys, who were temporarily turned over to the Gerry Association (the common term for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children) until a hearing could be held.  The Sun reported, "McMahon said that the grandfather was a retired barber named Henry Rehwinkle [sic], and was well-to-do."  The magistrate issued a summons for Rehwinkel to appear.  "As for the children they went away happy in the assurance of something to eat and a bed to sleep in," said the article.

The following day, all parties were in court, including the boys' mother, who had been tracked down in Sheepshead Bay.  She promised that she was able to support the boys on her income as a servant.  "The boys went away with their mother rejoicing," reported The Sun, which added, "The grandparents, who had been summoned to explain why they left their grandchildren to sleep in the street, were in the Centre street court when the boys were arraigned, but had nothing to say."

By the post-World War I years, the former Rehwinkel residence was operated as a rooming house.  The neighborhood was now sketchy at best.

In 1924, Police Captain Albert L. Youmans of Schenectady, New York initiated what the Ballston Spa Daily Journal called a "vice war" against organized crime.  On the night of November 28, he and Patrolman John Flynn were in "the resort section of Schenectady" when they were gunned down by five "New York gunman [who] had been imported by dive keepers to kill Youmans," said the article.  Among them was Russo Marmore, who lived at 288 Mulberry Street.  The 22-year-old listed his profession as "chauffeur."

In 1929, Alberto Nicoletti operated a linotype business from the commercial space.  On July 11 that year, James Cozza, alias Vincent Cozza, was arrested for stealing printing and office equipment from several printing firms.  The Brooklyn Daily Star reported, "Magistrate Simpson also held a man who described himself as Alberto Nicolette [sic], 288 Mulberry street, Manhattan, in $3,000 on a charge of receiving the stolen property."

Albert (he dropped the "o" from his first name) Nicoletti still ran his printing business here in 1941.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In 1932, architect Emil Koeppel was hired to convert the house to apartments above the basement store.  The configuration of one apartment on the parlor level and two each on the upper floors survives today.

In the 1990s, the basement was home to the 288 Bar.  It was described by New York Magazine on October 17, 1994:

The waif thing never died at this conspicuously fabulous watering hole, and the ratio of women to men is an unheard of 3:2.  The wine offering is insincere, but Joe's Jukebox provides the full range from Pavarotti to Luscious Jackson...and just don't ask about the stoneware.

Appropriately, given the history of the property, a barbershop once again operates from the lower level.

photograph by the author

The Rev. Cornelius T. Demarest House - 21 King Street

 

Born in Tappan, New Jersey on January 23, 1786, Cornelius T. Demarest earned his degree in theology at Columbia University in 1804.  He married Margretta Lydecker in 1808 and the couple had one daughter, Penelope Doremus.

Rev. Demarest became the fourth pastor of the Dutch Reformed church in what was known as the English Neighborhood of New Jersey--the towns along the Hudson Palisades in Eastern Bergen County--on May 25, 1813.  But within a decade a serious schism occurred.  He and many of his congregation believed that the church had drifted away from the doctrine of the Dutch Reformed Church.

On February 18, 1824, the Classis of Bergen met, accusing Demarest of "abuse and false slanders uttered in private conversations" and of falsifying minutes of an earlier classis meeting.  When he refused to appear to answer the charges, he was judged guilty and suspended from his ministry.

Undaunted, Rev. Demarest moved his family to New York City and organized the True Dutch Reformed Church at 23 King Street.  It was completed in 1826, approximately the same year that a row of abutting, Federal style houses were erected.  The Demarest family moved into 21 King Street, next door to the church.

Like its identical neighbors, the Demarests' house was two-and-a-half stories tall, with two prominent dormers that pierced the peaked roof.  It was faced in warm Flemish bond brick.

The Demarest house originally was identical to its neighbor at 17 King Street, seen above.

Like almost all of their neighbors, the Demarests took in a boarder.  Living with the family in 1840 was Thomas Whybrew, a book dealer at 108 Broadway.  In 1845, they had two boarders, Sidney Curtis, who was in the hardware business; and John Z. Westervelt, a bookkeeper.

Rev. Cornelius T. Demarest died on December 26, 1862 at the age of 76.  Three days later his funeral was held in "the Dutch Reformed Church, in King-st.," as announced by The New York Times.

Margretta Lydecker Demarest offered the house for sale on April 7, 1865.  The advertisement said the "two story and attic house" was "replete with modern improvements," suggesting that gas lighting and possibly running water had been installed.

The house became home to the John Nichol family.  Born in Scotland around 1822, Nichol had been a partner with George Frederick Merklee in the iron foundry Merklee & Nichol at 53 Hamersley Street (later Houston Street).  When the firm dissolved in 1854, Nichol partnered with George W. Billerwell.  The year he moved his family in 21 King Street, he listed himself as "iron founder and manufacturer of Mettam's patent rolling iron shutters."

In 1869, the Nichols rented the top portion of their home.  Their advertisement in the New York Herald on May 3, read:

21 King Street, near Macdougal--For housekeeping, Second Floor and Part of Third; gas, bath and washtubs, $55 per month.  Also small rear House, $15; for adults only.

The rent for the upper portion of the house would translate to about $1,270 per month in 2024.  Nearly all the houses along the block had a small building in the rear yard, in this case a house.  The rent would equal $346 a month.

The ad was answered by Harriet L. Belmont, the widow of Simeon Belmont; and Augustus M. Vanraden, a grocer whose store was at 80 Spring Street.  It is unclear who lived in which space.

In 1871, the family of John Calvin Christie moved into 21 King Street.  The extended Christie family was well known to the Nichols.  William Christie had purchased 15 King Street in 1840, and David W. Christie, his son, operated a stable in John Nichol's former foundry on Houston Street.

Shortly after moving into 21 King Street, on June 7, 1871, John C Christie died at the age of 27.  His funeral was held in the house on June 11, followed by a service at the True Dutch Reformed Church.

The house was next home to David Broome, another iron founder and likely an acquaintance of John Nichol.  In 1875, it was purchased by James H. Noe and his wife, the former Katherine Mangels.  Noe was a highly successful brush manufacturer with a store and factory at 275 Greenwich Street.  It may have been the Noes who raised the attic to a full floor, adding in the process a handsome Italianate cornice.  On either side of the brackets were scrolled volutes, and between were ornate pressed panels of flowers, fruits and swags.

As had been the case with John Calvin Christie, Noe's residency would be cut short.  The summer that he purchased 21 King Street, Noe was expanding his factory by building an addition next door.  On Sunday morning August 22, he went to Greenwich Street to check on his business, "feeling a little uneasy about the premises, as a building was in process of construction adjoining, the ladders belonging to which afforded easy access to the roof of No. 275 [Greenwich Street]," explained the New York Herald.

Noe found the first and second floors "undisturbed," but as he started up to the third floor, he saw John Richard Dolan, sneaking down from the roof via the "scuttle," or trap door.  Dolan was known to police as "Dandy Johnny" and the "Beau Brummel of Five Points" for his expensive shoes and clothes.  More importantly, he was a street brawler, burglar and gangster.

Noe attempted to overpower the intruder, but Dolan hit him on the head with a "jimmy," or iron bar, three times.  Nearly unconscious, the bloodied Noe was tied up and robbed.  Before fleeing, Dolan told him, "It's twenty years for me if I'm caught!  I'll send somebody to untie you.  If you make a noise I'll come back and finish you."

Noe's cries for help eventually were answered by a neighbor, a Mrs. Harris.  She later said, "He was covered with blood from head to foot."  James Noe was taken to the Chambers Street Hospital where he died four days later.  With exaggerated Victorian prose, The New York Times wrote, "the dead wagon conveyed from the Chambers Street Hospital to No. 21 King street all that was mortal of Mr. Noe," adding, "its reception at his residence was marked by a scene of anguish which happily occurs but seldom in this City."

Eight months later, on April 22, 1876, the New York Herald reported, "John Richard Dolan was hanged yesterday morning in the yard of the Tombs Prison for the murder of James H. Noe."

The family of Matthew Black lived here by 1878.  Black was in the produce business as were his sons Matthew J. and Robert, whose families all lived here.

In the 19th and early 20th centuries, boys celebrated the Fourth of July with the shooting of pistols.  Not unexpectedly, it often ended tragically.  In his 1912 Independence Day, Robert Haven Schauffler said,

It then seemed to be a day wholly devoted to boyish pleasure and mischief, sure to be followed by reports of hairbreadth escapes and injuries more or less serious, sometimes even fatal...It was not uncommon then, nor is it now, to read of some sudden death, some irretrievable blindness or other injury caused by the explosion of a toy cannon or the misadventure of some fireworks on "the Fourth," as the day has come to be called.

The Black family was at their summer home in Bergen, New Jersey on the holiday that year.  Tragically, On July 7, 1878, The New York Times reported, "A boy named Robert Black, of No. 21 King street, died yesterday from the effects of a pistol shot wound accidentally received in Bergen, N. J. on the 4th...while he and another boy were carelessly handling a pistol."

The house was purchased by detective A. W. Thompson around 1890.  He had big plans for the property.  On October 25, that year, the Record & Guide reported that his architect, M. Snedeker, had filed plans for a "four-story brick flat" to replace the vintage house.  Something derailed the plans, however, and the Thompson family, who were currently living on West Houston Street, moved in.

By 1897, A. W. Thompson had died and his widow Adolphine and son, Charles S., were living here.  Charles had joined the fire department with Engine Company 19 on West 25th Street,  in 1887.  Now, in 1897, he was engaged to Jessie Graham. 

In 1892, Charles was fighting a large fire when a wall collapsed.  He suffered a serious head injury when he was struck by falling bricks.  The New York Journal and Advertiser explained, "His skull was fractured and several operations have since been performed on him."  For five years, Charles suffered excruciating headaches.  On May 4, 1897, the New York Evening Telegram said, "He has been suffering more than usual from them lately."

At 11:00 on May 3, 1897, Charles left the house to go to work.  Before going to the firehouse, he stopped at a drugstore because of his violent headache.  At 7:00 that night, he was brought home "between two firemen," as reported by the New York Evening Telegram, who told his mother he had been "acting very strangely."

Thompson said, "If you fellows knew how sick I am you wouldn't talk that way."  

Adolphine put him to bed.  An hour later, Jessie Graham, her father and brother stopped by to see how he was doing.  Charles came down to the parlor and while they were talking, his dog jumped onto his lap.

The little dog had been the mascot of his firehouse.  Its leg was crushed by an engine and the fire captain was going to shoot it.  Charles intervened, begged to let him have it, and nursed the crippled dog back to health.  Now, as it began to lick Charles's hand, he "became wild in an instant," as worded by the New York Evening Telegram.

Charles shouted, "There's that dog again!  Take him away!" and picked up his jackknife from the table.  He opened it and attempted to stab the dog.  The newspaper said,

Miss Graham interfered and Thompson turned on her.  His reason had left him and he was trying to stab the young woman when his mother rushed in and threw herself between them.  The insane fireman turned on her and tried to plunge the knife into her.  She only saved herself by throwing her arms around his neck and talking to him until be became calm.

An ambulance was called and just before midnight he was taken away.  The following day the New York Evening Telegram reported, "he lies in the insane pavilion at Bellevue."  The New York Journal and Advertiser reported the obvious, "the wedding day has been indefinitely postponed," while the Telegram said, "It is feared that he is hopelessly insane from the wound in his head."

In 1900, title to 21 King Street was transferred from Charles's name to Adolphine's.  In addition, she owned a house at 46 Barrow Street.  The following year, on October 27, 1901, she remarried.  Her new husband was David A. Whitaker, a marine engineer.  The bride was 51 and the groom 48.  

For two years, according to Adolphine, Whitaker was "a model husband."  Then things changed.  Whitaker began to "beat her cruelly," according to The New York Times.  He additionally used her money for investments, the profits of which he kept. She later told a judge, " I silently bore [the abuse] because of the fact that I was alone in the world and he was the only one I had...so even with all the brutality I continued to live with [Whitaker], hoping against hope that he would reform."

Things came to a climax on April 1, 1910.  That day Adolphine had ten teeth extracted.  The New York Times reported, "She suffered great pain, she said, and the dentist gave her a narcotic powder to apply to her gums."

Whitaker came home that night with a pail of beer.  He noticed the powder and was unusually agreeable for the rest of the evening.  Adolphine later testified,  "That night my husband was pleasant with me and I recall distinctly that before he retired he kissed me, which was an unusual state of affairs."

The next evening after supper Adolphine visited a friend who was sick with pneumonia.  When she returned, Whitaker and his clothes were gone.  He told friends his wife was attempting to poison him "with powder."

Adolphine sued for divorce in October "on the ground of cruelty and desertion," as reported by The New York Times.  But her problems were far from over.

Nearly a quarter of a century later, on March 19, 1925, the Brooklyn Standard Union reported that Adolphine, now 81 years old, had won her suit against her nephew, James O. Westberg and his wife, Mary F., to regain title to the house in which she lived at 172 Van Siclen Street in Brooklyn, "and at 46 Barrow Street and 21 King Street, Manhattan."  Adolphine's suit alleged that when David Whitaker left her and she became ill, James and Mary Westberg warned her that he "would return and take her property."  She said they pressured her into signing the title to the three properties over to them.  She won the suit and regained possession of 21 King Street and the other two properties.

In the meantime,  the Westbergs had been leasing 21 King Street.  Jerry A. Re lived here in the early 1920s.  He was affluent enough to own a Chandler touring car and a summer home in Monroe, New York.  In October 1922, he notified the Newburgh, New York police that his car had been stolen.  A few days later it was pulled over by a Newburgh police officer.  Driving it was Henry Re, Jerry's 21-year-old brother.  In the car with him was Isabel Hill, a 14-year-old runaway from Yonkers.

Henry Re was arrested for larceny, for stealing the car, and for a violation of Section 483 of the penal law, "which has to do with corrupting the morals of a minor," reported The Independent Republican of Goshen, New York.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The house was altered in 1932 and in 1936.  It was most likely during one of those renovations that the parlor floor was faced with stone.  Although never officially converted to apartments, there are three units in the house today.

photographs by the author

The 1827 Joseph Benedict House - 263 Henry Street

 

The subtle change of brick color testifies to the addition of the upper floors.

The Dutch Rutgers clan first settled in Albany, but moved to New York in the 18th century.  Henry Rutgers was related to the Lispenard family by marriage.  He established a large estate on which, in 1798, he erected a Presbyterian church, known as "the kirk on Rutgers Farm."  According to The Sun decades later, "On, July 27, 1799, Rutgers on his own grounds paraded the militia before President Washington, Gov. Clinton and visiting Indian chiefs, and thereafter he was Col. Rutgers.  Gilbert Stuart painted Washington’s portrait at that time, and it was a prized possession of the Rutgers mansion.”

Streets were laid out on the sprawling Rutgers Farm in the first years of the 19th century.  Rutgers left his mark on the map, naming Rutgers Street where his mansion stood.  It intersected Henry Street, named for himself.  There were also Catherine Street, named for Catherine Rutgers, and Bancker Street, named for Rutgers's son-in-law.  (The street which divided the Rutgers estate from the De Lancey farm was given the name Division Street.)

The former Rutgers Farm became a high-toned residential neighborhood.  In 1827, a two-and-a-half-story, Federal style home was erected at 263 Henry Street.  Faced in red brick, the 24-foot wide residence would have had a handsome Federal style entrance with columns and sidelights (similar to the surviving example next door at 265), and dormers at the attic level.

The family of Joseph Benedict lived here at least from the mid-1830s through 1841.  He was a clerk in the Post Office on Nassau Street.  Mercy King, the widow of John A. King, occupied the house in 1853 and '54, followed by another widow, Hannah Ashford.  Living with her was her adult son, John A. Ashford, Jr.  Hannah died here on July 15, 1861 at the age of 69.  Her funeral was held in the parlor at 2:00 on July 17, and she was interred in Greenwood Cemetery.

There would be another funeral here less than a year later.  Charles H. and Caroline M. Smith next moved into the house and had a baby, Charles, Jr. on December 13, 1861.  The boy died four months later and his funeral was held on May 4, 1862.

The house continued to be leased to a succession of well-heeled tenants.  Emily Thompson, the widow of Andrew Thompson, lived here in 1864-65, and Henry Donald, a stevedore, occupied the house from 1867 through 1869.

No. 263 Henry Street was sold in June 1870 for $13,500 (about $325,000 in 2024).  It was purchased by Mary A. McEntee, who leased it to Nelson and Lydia A. Bush.  Nelson was the proprietor of an "eatinghouse," or restaurant at 166 Nassau Street.  

Nelson Bush joined his father's business in 1873, the same year the Bushes took in a boarder.  Jeremiah Hitchcock, a saddler, lived with the family from about 1873 through 1878.  

The Bush family moved to Wilson Street in Brooklyn in 1880.  That year George Graham and his wife purchased 263 Henry Street.  In May, they hired architect Gage Inslee to enlarge the property.  His plans said the dwelling would "be raised to four stories, also a four-story brick extension on rear."  The renovations cost the Grahams about $72,300 in today's money.  Inslee gave the openings fanciful brownstone lintels with vining, incised carvings.  The parlor floor windows were additionally embellished with diminutive molded cornices above the lintels.  Sandwiched between the lintel and cornice of the entrance was a fancifully carved Queen Anne panel with a sunburst and volutes.  A modern neo-Grec cornice crowned the design.

The renovations resulted in modern, Queen Anne fencing contrasted to the openwork Federal newels.

George Graham died at the age of 64 on August 26, 1890.  His funeral was held here three days later followed by a requiem mass at St. Theresa's Church, on Rutgers Street.

It appears that Graham's widow moved soon afterward.  She was living in Iceland, New Jersey in July 1898 when she hired architect Max Muller to erect an interior wall.  By now the Henry Street neighborhood had significantly changed--from one of aristocratic families to mostly Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe.  Before long she would have a most celebrated tenant.

Rabbi Jacob Joseph was described by The New York Times as "the highest official in the orthodox Jewish religion in the United States."  Born in Russia, he was the head of the Congregation Beth Hamedrash Hagodai at 64 Norfolk and had written several books.  In 1894 he suffered a stroke, but continued to work.  Then in 1898 (the year Mrs. Graham had the wall installed), he had a relapse, which left him paralyzed.

According to Scott D. Seligman in his The Chief Rabbi's Funeral: 

Despite the astronomical salary he had been paid during his early years in America, he had never managed to amass a nest egg, and in the 1890s he was forced to relocate to a more modest home at 263 Henry Street.  By 1901 he was not only paralyzed but nearly penniless.

On the evening of July 28, 1902, according to The New York Times, "his family gathered about his bedside.  When he died his son and his married daughters were present."  The article said, "As soon as the death became known crowds began to gather in front of the house.  Nearly a thousand persons were there, and prayers were offered for the rabbi."

About 50,000 mourners accompanied the rabbi's coffin from the house.  Salvation magazine reported, "Seldom before, not even during the meat riot, had so many thousands of people thronged the streets.  Never had a man so well beloved by the Orthodox Jews died in this country."  The article said, "From the door of the Chief Rabbi's humble home at 263 Henry Street, to the gateway of the Temple Rodolph Shalom Cemetery, in Cypress Hills, L. I., the route of the funeral line was one continuous path of mourning."

But it did not go smoothly.  Antisemitic sentiment was strong, and as the procession with the unpainted pine coffin passed the Hoe factory on Grand Street, workers hissed and jeered from the windows.  One employee recounted seeing his coworkers, "throw water and missiles down onto the surging crowds of mourners.  At last, he saw the hose turned on the streets," as reported by The New York Times.

A riot broke out.  The 300 policemen detailed for the event were overwhelmed, and their response, at least according to some witnesses, was focused on the mourners rather than the instigators.  On August 2, 1902, The New York Times headlined an article, "Police Denounced by Jews In Mass Meeting," and reported that 3,000 people had crammed into Cooper Union "to protest against the conduct of the policemen and factory workers who participated in Wednesday's rioting."

A community leader angrily protested, "The men in the factory insulted us wantonly.  Then the police, who should have protected us, clubbed us into insensibility."  A lawyer, Abraham D. Levy, headed a committee to bring charges "against the officers who had clubbed the mourners in the funeral procession," said The Times.  

The 1880 lintel is a spectacular example.

Mrs. Joseph Fine founded the Hebrew Day Nursery in the house in 1904.  Born in Poland in 1860, she was the daughter of Rabbi Joshua Seigel and "a prominent worker in various Jewish welfare organizations," according to The Sun.  She was a director of the Home of the Daughters of Jacob, of the Harlem Daughters of Israel, and of the Rabbi Jacob Joseph School.

The Hebrew Day Nursery allowed mothers to work during the day.  It continued its work here after Mrs. Fine's death on March 28, 1919.  

On the afternoon of July 7, 1925, a fire broke out on the stairway between the second and third floors.  The New York Evening Post reported, "The dozen children who occupied the Hebrew Day Nursery at 263 Henry street yesterday are unharmed today...Teachers and nurses removed their charges to the street while the flames were extinguished."  The damage was limited to $200 (just under $3,500 today).

Lillian D. Wald founded the Henry Street Settlement in 1893 and two years later Jacob Schiff purchased the house at 265 Henry Street for the organization.  In 1935, the Settlement acquired 263 Henry Street and opened the Workers' Education Center, sponsored by the Works Progress Administration.  In her 2020 The House on Henry Street, Ellen M. Snyder-Grenier explains it, "served 150 students, most of them from the Lower East Side: unemployed cooks, clerks, laborers, stonecutters, shipping clerks, garment workers, and more."

A poster advertised an "information study group" here.  from the collection of the Library of Congress.

The house was renovated twice--in 1942 and 1994.  The first resulted in classrooms in the basement, first and third floors, with one apartment each on the second and fourth floors.  The last remodeling changed the basement and parlor floor classrooms to office space.

photographs by the author