The 1845 Jacob A. Conover House - 735 Washington Street

 

photograph by the author

Grocer Charles Crane's store and residence were located at 734 and 736 Washington Street in 1844 when Richard Halliday's estate was sold at auction.  Crane and David Ramsey, a carman, purchased the plots at 733 through 739 Washington Street, across the street from Crane's home, and erected four nearly identical homes.  Completed in 1845, the three-story and basement houses were faced in brick and trimmed in brownstone.  Their handsome entrances featured pilasters on either side of the paneled doors, transoms and narrow sidelights.  Delicate dentils ran along the fascia boards below the wooden cornices.

No. 735 Washington Street seems to have been initially operated as a boarding house.  In 1845, the families of Daniel Blauvelt, a carman; John Patterson, a "boatman;" butcher Joseph Pratt; and newlyweds William and Ann Aliza Kirk Goodheart lived here.  Sadly, Ann Goodheart contracted what the New York Herald described as a "short and severe illness" that year.  She died at the age of 19 on November 8.

Around 1852, Jacob A. Conover moved his family into 735 Washington Street.  He and his wife had a son, Gustavus A. Conover, who was five years old that year.  Conover operated Jacob A. Conover & Co. at 130 Horatio Street, a lucrative woodshop that created architectural elements like stairways.  The family was affluent enough to afford a farm in New Jersey.  Conover sold it in 1854, his advertisement describing:

A Farm for Sale--Containing 100 acres of Land, 15 or 20 of which is woodland, the residue in a high state of cultivation, with dwelling and tenant houses, new barn and other out buildings, all in good repair, beautifully situated, one mile from the ocean (where there is good sea bathing) and about seven miles south of Long Branch, N.J.

In 1855, Conover was granted a patent for a wood-splitting machine.  He vigorously defended his patent, going to court repeatedly as late as 1870 to fight infringements.

Conover's intricate invention.  from Transactions of the American Institute of the City of New York, 1855 (copyright expired)

In 1864, the Conover family moved to West 20th Street and 735 Washington Street once again became a boarding house.  On March 16, 1865, The New York Times headlined an article, "The Draft Begun."  It said, "Among doubts, hesitation, delay and uncertainty about orders, the draft in the City of New-York was begun yesterday."   Among the names pulled that day was H. Collins of 735 Washington Street.  Two days later, the name of another boarder, D. O. Hawk, was called.

The proprietor permitted one boarder to use the parlor piano for teaching.  An advertisement in the New York Herald on October 15, 1865 read:

Attention!--Accompaniments, scales and pieces taught by my system quicker than by any method heretofore adopted.  Satisfaction guaranteed.  Address of call on Professor, 735 Washington street.

It was most likely the same resident who, three years later, advertised, "Music read at sight; copyright secured.  A Theoretical and perfect system of notation.  Send for circular.  Taught only at Phonographic Musical Institute, 735 Washington street."

Living here in 1881 was the Jacob Phillips family.  When Mrs. Phillips's 10-year-old son stole $1.50 from her bag (more than $45 in 2024), she did not blame the boy, but a local storekeeper named Weeks.  On November 16, 1881, the New York Evening Post reported that she marched into the Charles Street Police station and complained that Weeks, "displayed in his show window cheap revolvers, tinsel jewelry, and toys which he promised as prizes."  Youngsters could win the items by buying chewing gum.  Inside the paper wrappings were small cards on which was written the prize that the purchaser won.

Mrs. Phillips charged, "children were thus induced to engage in games of chance, and in many instances stole the money with which they played."  Her rage was rewarded when Weeks was arrested and held for trial.

Beginning in the 1890s, A. T. Cronk and his family leased 735 Washington Street from Sarah A. Morgan.  The Cronks had two sons, Edwin and Frank.  In 1897, the family took in a boarder, longshoreman Henry Heinrich.  According to The New York Times, he paid $10 a month for the room.  Despite his first name, he was known as Waterfront Dan.

Ten years later, Heinrich was still boarding with the Cronks.  The longshoremen's union went on strike in 1907.  As with many labor conflicts at the time, the strike was violent, involving a riot and attacks on strike breakers.  Being out of work made Hendricks "very despondent," according to The New York Times.  He fell behind in his rent and, although "Mrs. A. T. Kronk [sic] did not press for the rent, the man brooded over his position."

On June 4, Mrs. Cronk entered Heinrich's room.  The New York Times reported, "He was found unconscious lying, fully dressed, in bed with the end of a rubber tube, which was attached to an open gas jet, in his mouth."  Luckily, he was found in time and he recovered at St. Vincent's Hospital.

But, nearly a year later, Heinrich still was without a job.  The problem was no longer a strike, but, most likely, his age.  At 72, he "was said to be the oldest long shoreman in Greenwich Village," said The Sun.  His serious depression about his situation continued.   On May 26, 1908, The Sun reported, "Two young longshoremen yesterday got him a job on a White Star pier.  When they went to inform him about it, they found him dead."  Heinrich had hanged himself with a clothesline attached "to a hinge of his door."

The Cronks' next boarder was John Hurley.  He was hailed as a hero in newspapers on February 28, 1909.  Edwin Cronk had been ill for several day.  That night, Hurley suggested a walk and the two wandered down to a Hudson River pier.  After sitting on the pier for awhile, according to The Sun, Cronk said, "I guess, John, I'll have to go back to my room.  I'm not very well."

As he stood up, he became dizzy and "before his friend could do anything fell over the stringpiece," reported the New-York Tribune.  Hurley tossed off his coat and jumped into the frigid river.  The Sun said, "The tide was running pretty strong, and by the time he got to Cronk they were yards away from the dock and the current was pulling them farther from it all the time."

Struggling to keep Cronk's head above water and fighting the cold and tide, Hurley yelled for help.  Two policeman ran to the pier and managed to fish the two men out with boat hooks.  Cronk was unconscious and Hurley was exhausted and suffering from exposure.  Both were taken to St. Vincent's Hospital.

The estate of Sarah A. Morgan sold the house in July 1910 to Katherine A. Fitzpatrick.  She continued leasing it to the Cronk family.  

America entered World War I in 1917.  Boarding with the Cronks was Thomas E. Gill.  Both he and Frank Cronk left to fight in 1918.  Frank was drafted and sent to Camp Upton, an Army induction center, in Yaphank, Long Island on April 1, 1918.  On Christmas Day that year, the Cronks received word that Thomas E. Gill had been "slightly wounded" in battle in France.

The house as it appeared in 1941.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

While the other houses in the 1845 row were converted to apartments (or razed, in the case of 733 Washington Street) in the first half of the 20th century, 735 Washington Street continued to be leased until 1956.  A renovation completed that year resulted in two duplex apartments.

The house was returned to a single family home in 2009.  Although no historic details survive inside, the exterior is greatly intact.

Edward Cunningham's 1886 395 Manhattan Avenue

 

In 1886, developer and architect Edward Cunningham purchased the vacant lots on the western side of New Avenue (renamed Manhattan Avenue the following year), between 116th and 117th Streets.  A partner in the construction firm Cunningham & Henderson, in April that year he filed plans for 11 houses along the avenue and three others on West 116th Street.  The project, according to the Record & Guide, would cost $135,000 to erect, or just over $4.5 million in 2024.

Similar to the houses of developer-builder-architect William J. Merritt being erected in the district at the time, Cunningham's row was a harmonious row of Queen Anne style homes--each a bit different from the other.  Among them was  the brownstone-faced 395 Manhattan Avenue.  Three stories tall above a rough-cut stone basement level, the cast iron stoop railing with urn-shaped balusters descended to beefy newels.

The parlor floor openings were framed by quoins and topped with Renaissance inspired, rounded pediments.  Cunningham gave the second floor windows graceful, scalloped lintels, and paired the top floor openings with a shared frame and single molded cornice.

Cunningham put the titles to the homes in the name of his wife, Jane.  The couple initially leased 395 Manhattan Avenue.  In June 1893, Jane sold the property to real estate operator Robert Black.  He, too, leased the house before selling it in 1906 to Solomon Schinasi, who had begun buying up houses along the row.  Among his initial tenants were the Thompson family.  Gertrude Thompson died here on October 25, 1908.

On August 28, 1910, Schinasi advertised 395 Manhattan Avenue for lease again.  The rent was listed at $75--an affordable $2,500 per month by today's terms.

Three years later, The Sun reported that Schinasi had sold 395 Manhattan Avenue to Wilhelmina Walther, noting, "This is the third house sold of a row of six lately taken in exchange from Solomon Schinasi."  Walther, like all of the owners to date, was a real estate operator.  She continued leasing the house until selling it in June 1918 to Ezekiel Fixman.  In reporting the sale, the New-York Tribune described the house as "a three-story flat," reflecting its operation as unofficial apartments.

Living here in 1929 was Mary Marcus, who did bacteriological research for Dr. Joseph L. Wathick.  On October 25, 1930, he described Mary in a letter to Agnes H. Brock saying, "Her personal character is beyond reproach.  She is reliable, ethical, honest and of good habits; zealously guarding her reputation."

Dr. Wathick's letter was a result of a tangled legal case in which Mary Marcus had become embroiled.  (Agnes H. Brock was a probation officer.)  In 1930, Mary bought a dress and as she left the store, was arrested by store detectives who testified they did not see her purchase anything.  Her attorney argued, "There is no argument but she bought it that day; she paid for it.  She couldn't have walked out with this dress.  That in itself shows that there is a contradiction in the testimony of the Officers."  Nevertheless, Mary was convicted of shoplifting and her employer's letter attesting to her character was important in her appeal.

Interestingly, while the Harlem neighborhood by now had morphed into the center of Manhattan's black community, one tenant of 395 Manhattan Avenue around this time was an Irish immigrant.  Patrick O'Neill was born in Ireland in 1850.  According to the Mount Vernon, New York newspaper the Daily Argus, O'Neill first had returned to Ireland in 1900 when he retired as a sergeant in the U.S. Army.  After that trip, he returned to his native land every summer.

The substantial cast iron stoop newels survived in 1941.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In August 1938, O'Neill was enjoying his 38th trip to Ireland.  He was scheduled to return to New York on the President Harding on August 20, but a few hours before boarding he suffered a fatal heart attack.  The 88-year-old's body was placed on the liner Manhattan a week later.  The Daily Argus reported, "It is understood that a United States Army escort would receive the body at Governor's Island."

Benjamin F. Thomas married Ann E. Branson on December 23, 1943.  The newlyweds moved into 395 Manhattan Avenue.  Ann, who was the widow of H. J. Branson, was "very active in the social activities of the community," according to the New York Age.  Thomas was prominent in the Harlem community.  The former proprietor of the Hotel Maceo and the Broadway Auto School, he was one of New York State's first automobile inspectors.  He was, as well, treasurer of the Harlem Children's Fresh Air Fun and a director of the Association of Trade and Commerce.

The 18-foot-wide house has never officially been converted to apartments.  Nevertheless, there are three rental units in the building today.  Externally, (other than the loss of the stoop newels) the house is little changed after nearly 140 years.

photographs by the author

The 1827 James Hart House - 261 Mulberry Street

 

Around 1827, the two-and-a-half story, brick faced house at 261 Mulberry Street was completed.  Home to printer James Evans in 1829, its Federal style design included Flemish bond brickwork and tidy dormers that pierced the peaked roof.

Like James Evans, subsequent occupants of the house continued to be working class.  John S. Houston, a stonecutter, lived here in 1832.  He was followed by Christopher Endeman, who died here at the age of 97 on April 22, 1838.

As early as 1843, James Hart and his family moved into 261 Mulberry Street.  The location directly across the street from St. Patrick's Cathedral was perfect for Hart, who was a sexton of the church.  James and his wife, Eleanor, had three daughters, Mary, Margaret, and Annie E.; and a son, William T. A. Hart.  

As was common, the Harts took in a boarder, normally one at a time.  In 1843, for example, carpenter John Dunn boarded with the family, and in 1847, Caroline Haggerty, a widow, lived here.

By 1857, William T. A. Hart was an undertaker.  Most likely through his father's influence, he became the official undertaker for the cathedral, a position he would hold for six decades.  

Eleanor Hart died here on December 18, 1859.  Her funeral was held in the parlor on December 20.  Interestingly, her body was not interred in the cathedral graveyard across the street, but in the 11th Street Catholic Cemetery between First Avenue and Avenue A.

Such would not be the case a decade later when James Hart died at the age of 86 on April 14, 1869.  His funeral was held in the cathedral and his burial was within the cathedral grounds.

Upon his father's death, William T. A. Hart added the position of sexton to his undertaking role.  He grew wealthy and influential; but his career would be marked by many legal problems.  On May 5, 1889, for instance, The New York Times reported that he was arrested for "interring in St. Michael's Cemetery in an ordinary coffin the body of a person who had died of a contagious disease."  And on May 24, 1893, the newspaper began an article saying, "William T. A. Hart, the sexton of St. Patrick's Cathedral, was the subject of a weighty opinion handed down yesterday by Surrogate Ransom."

Since 1887, Hart had been the executor of the estate of Archibald Johnson, who "died insolvent, leaving his affairs in a tangled condition."  Now, prompted by the complaints of creditors, the court's referee, Sherman W. Knevals, was "severe on Mr. Hart's management."

In the meantime, since his death, James Hart's heirs (who inherited the property equally) had been leasing their childhood home.  First, however, they raised the attic floor to a full floor.  Their architect added a handsome, cast metal Italianate cornice.  For a few years the residence was operated as a boarding house.  It was the scene of a grisly suicide on October 10, 1871.

Peter Coyle, according to the New York Herald, had "long been known in some of the best billiard saloons of the city as a 'marker.'"  (A marker was a scorekeeper.)  But for some time, the 60-year-old bachelor had been out of work and in poor health.  The newspaper reported on October 11, "not far from nine o'clock yesterday morning he raised up in bed, and, with a razor in his possession, cut his throat, and after throwing the weapon away, fell backwards on the pillow and soon died from hemorrhage."

Before the end of the year, Hugh Moore leased the house.  He assuredly knew William T. A. Hart professionally.  He was the superintendent of Calvary Cemetery and was on the Board of Trustees of St. Patrick's Cathedral.  He and his wife had one daughter.

It was not until the spring of 1873 that the city began paving the Mulberry Street block.  On April 1, Hugh Moore looked out his window to see Patrick McHugh (described by the New York Herald as a "stalwart-looking man") pull his cart to the curb and begin loading it with granite paving stones, known as "Belgian blocks."  Moore rushed off to find an officer and McHugh was arrested.  He had driven off with 300 blocks, prompting the New York Herald to call his crime "a heavy larceny."

As the Harts had done, the Moores took in boarders.  In 1874, Edward McGrath and Julia J. McGrath, possibly siblings, lived here.  Julia was a teacher in the primary department of Grammar School No. 27, and Edward was a policeman.

On the warm Saturday afternoon of August 15 that year, the 28-year-old cop took Kitty McGuire, who lived at 75 Mott Street, to the beach on Long Island.  The pair seems to have become victims of an undertow.  The following day, The New York Times reported, "It appears that McGrath and the young lady went in bathing together and got beyond their depth and were drowned before aid could reach them."  Their bodies had not been recovered at the time of the article.

In October 1884, the James Hart's children sold 261 Mulberry Street to George J. Kenny for $6,000 (about $192,000 in 2024 terms).  He continued to lease the house to Hugh Moore until 1891, when Moore and his wife moved to 157 East 51st Street.

It was George J. Kenney who hired architect B. W. Berger in January 1897 to make alterations to what was now being described as a "three-story brick tenement."  (The term meant that multiple families lived here.)  It was most likely at this time that the heavy stone enframement was placed around the delicate Federal doorway and cast metal lintels--absurdly out of proportion with the windows--were installed.

Mulberry Street was as much playground as thoroughfare in 1941 when this photo was taken.  The 1890's fire escape was demanded by the tenement laws.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The family of John A. O'Brien moved into the renovated house.  O'Brien was highly involved with Old St. Patrick's Cathedral (the new cathedral uptown was dedicated in 1879) and headed its charity department.  In its annual report for 1897, the State Department of Charities said that 62 "persons without homes [were] afforded general relief during the year" by the institution.

The O'Briens left 261 Mulberry Street in 1902 when the families of Theodore Palumbo and Robert C. McNally moved in.  Both men worked worked for the city.  Theodore and Eliza Polumbo had at least two daughters, Mary and Theresa.  Living with Robert and Mary McNally was Robert's widowed mother, Catherine.  She died here on November 30, 1903 at the age of 76.  

In 1909, Robert McNally was appointed to fill the position of attendance officer of the New York City Schools.  His promotion came with a $900 salary--about $31,000 today.

There would be two more funerals in the Mulberry Street house.  Mary T. McNally died on December 9, 1910, and Mary Polumbo's funeral was held here on March 13, 1917.  (Interestingly, Theresa Polumbo was listed as an attorney by then.)

The house was sold in April 1938.  It was operated as a rooming house for decades before being converted to apartments--one per floor--in 1960.  It was most likely at this time that the somewhat clunky enframement that attempts to mimic a Federal example was fabricated around the elegant surviving doorway.

photographs by the author

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The United States Express Bldg - 2 Rector Street (101 Greenwich)

 

image via archinect.com

Born in Oswego, New York on July 15, 1833, Thomas Collier Platt was described by The New York Times as, "for nearly a quarter of a century the undisputed 'Easy Boss' of the Republican organization in this State."  Known popularly as Tom Platt, he served two terms in the U.S. House of Presentatives and three terms in the U.S. Senate.  He was highly involved in the consolidation of five counties into the City of Greater New York.  The Times noted that he knew "every President, personally, since Lincoln."

In 1879, Platt became secretary and a director in the United States Express Company and was elected its president the following year.  He still held that position nearly 30 years later when, on July 7, 1905, the architectural firm of Clinton & Russell filed plans for the firm's new headquarters on the northern side of Rector Street between Greenwich Street and Trinity Place.  The plans called for a 23-story "brick and stone office building" projected to cost $1.6 million to erect (about $57.2 million by 2024 conversion).

As the caissons for the foundation were being sunk into the bedrock three months later, Carpentry & Building explained, "The first five stories of the façade will be of granite, while the remaining stories will be of brick trimmed with terra cotta.  The style of architecture will harmonize with the Empire and Trinity buildings."  That style would be, for the most part, a commercial take on Renaissance Revival, with nods to Gothic Revival and touches of Beaux Arts.  As the building rose, Henry Alexander Horwood, writing in The Metropolitan Magazine, said, "Trinity churchyard is in front of it and from Broadway it will loom up like a giant in the background." 

The decoration of the original, terra cotta-clad top section included elaborate piers, and spandrels containing classical figures.  photograph by Wurts Bros from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

The United States Express Building was completed in the fall of 1906.  An interesting innovation was a second floor arcade that connected the stations of the Sixth Avenue and the Ninth Avenue elevated trains.  The United States Express Company occupied the lower floors and rented the upper portions to a variety of tenants.  On December 1, 1906, for instance, the Record & Guide reported that the 17th floor had been leased to the Safety Car Heating and Lighting Co. for ten years, and the Lackawanna Steel Co. had signed a lease on "almost all of the eighteen floor for a long term."

A significant tenant was the Carnegie Safe Deposit Company, which on January 24, 1908 installed what the Topeka State Journal described as, "the largest steel vault in the world."  The article said, "The huge plates used are of the same quality of steel as is used by the leading nations in the protection of their battleships, and are proof against even any modern high power gun cable of being brought to an attack on the vault."  Each of the steel plates, made by the Bethlehem Steel Company, weighed 756 tons.  The doors to the vault weighed 20 tons each, yet the article said, "These are hung with such delicate precision that a child can swing them."

This photo was captioned "One of the Plates in the World's Largest Deposit Vault" in The Topeka State Journal on January 24, 1908 (copyright expired)

Interest switched from the massive vault to a scandal involving Thomas C. Platt five months later.  A front page article in The Evening World on May 18, 1908 was headlined, "Platt's Letter to Mae Wood Signed 'Lovingly, Tom" and the article detailed Mae Catharine Wood's divorce suit against the former senator.  The interesting thing about the case was that Platt already had a wife, and he insisted he and Wood had never been married.

The article said, "Mae Catharine Wood-Platt asserts that she was married secretly to the Senator in the Fifth Avenue Hotel on the night of Nov. 9, 1901.  Two years later, she says, he married Lillian Janeway."  Although Platt did not attend the court session on May 17, 1908, Mae Catharine Wood was undeterred in exposing embarrassing details and reading torrid love letters during her testimony.

The scurrilous proceedings lasted until May 27 when the judge declared, "I cannot credit the plaintiff's evidence as to the alleged marriage and the testimony as it impresses the court is that this is a most wicked design to support a false and fictious clam by forgery and perjury."  Mae Catharine Wood was sent to the city prison on charges of perjury "unless she furnishes a bail in $5,000," reported the Daily News of Kearney, Nebraska.

The lobby boasted carved stone, a deeply coffered ceiling, and mosaic floors.  photograph by Wurts Bros from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

An advertisement for an office in the building on April 7, 1917 touted its up-to-the-minute amenities.  "Fire proof building, light, heat and service included, circulating ice water, excellent toilet facilities."  The "circulating ice water" was a somewhat common means of cooling large buildings in the decades before air conditioning.  A refrigeration plant in the basement sent frigid salt water through copper tubing within the walls, noticeably lowering the temperatures during the hot months.

Among the several attorneys with offices in the United States Express Building in 1920 was Frank I. Finkler, who acted as his own lawyer in a startling case against his son-in-law, John F. McNulty, in July that year.  Finkler accused him of bigamy, of trying to poison the entire Finkler family, and of setting fire to his house to conceal a theft of $5,600 worth of Liberty Bonds.

Finkler's daughter, Martha Ruth, had served in the Women's Motor Corps of America during World War I.  One morning she was assigned to drive Lieutenant McNulty to the New York Navy Yard.  A romance blossomed and "despite her father's objections," according to The Evening World, they were married in the Cathedral of St. John the Divine on April 2, 1919.  The newspaper said, "Later it was found that McNulty had previously married Mary Wasal Oct. 28, 1908, and Ruth Ennis, by whom he had three children, on Nov. 8, 1911.

One morning, Finkler's wife saw McNulty drop mercury tablets into the coffee pot that was boiling on the stove.  She poured the contents into the sink.  Later, McNulty witnessed Finkler place Liberty Bonds in his desk drawer in the library.  After a fire later gutted the room, Finkler applied to Washington for redemption of the bonds, only to be told they had been sold.

On July 18, 1920, Finkler's daughter took the stand.  "But she had scarcely started to give her testimony," reported The Sun, "when, overcome by sight of the prisoner, the father of her child, she toppled from the witness chair in a faint, which lasted nearly an hour."  She was unable to return to the courtroom.  Nonetheless, McNulty pleaded guilty to bigamy, while denying he had tried to kill the Finkler family or to having stolen the bonds and set fire to the house.  He was sentenced to two to five years in Sing Sing Prison.  Finkler told the reporters, "It has cost me $24,000, including the Liberty Bonds, to rid my daughter of this man."

The Brickbuilder, July 1907 (copyright expired)

On January 12, 1925, The New York Times reported that the Electric Bond and Share Company, "purchased for its future home the twenty-three-story office building at 2 Rector Street."  The article noted, "The building was erected by Thomas P. [sic] Platt as President of the United States Express Company and was considered the finest building of its kind."  The new owners enlarged the skyscraper by adding three floors, the architecture of which honored the Clinton & Russell design.

Joseph A. Eggers worked in the mail room of the Electronic Bond and Share Company.  On the evening of February 25, 1933, the 40-year-old was seen sorting mail, and then he disappeared.  Suddenly, Joseph Hawthorne, the manager of the Western Union branch office in the rear extension of the building, was startled by a loud thud.  Investigating, he found Eggers's body "wedged in a ventilator," according to The New York Times.  He had thrown himself from a window on the 21st floor.

John J. McMullen, the owner of the Houston Astros, purchased 2 Rector Street in March 1981 "for a price reported in trade circles as $23 million," reported The New York Times.  (The figure would translate to more than $77 million today.)

Cesar Martinez, who worked for the building's management firm as a security guard, helped his sister, Eridania Rodriquez, obtain a job here as a cleaner in 2008.  Almost a year later, on July 7, 2009, Eridania failed to meet her co-workers for their evening meal at 9:00.  When they looked for her, they found only a hair clip and a mop.  In the room where the employees changed into their uniforms, they found her clothing and purse.  Her cart was abandoned on the eight floor.

The building was carefully searched, but no trace of the woman was found.  Two days later, The New York Times reported that police suspected foul play.  Then, on July 11, the newspaper reported, "After days of fearing the worst, the police said they believed they found the body of Eridania Rodriguez, a 46-year-old woman missing since Tuesday night."  At 8:50 on Saturday morning, an officer found a body inside an air-conditioning duct near the 12th floor.

Joseph Pabon, who worked as an elevator operator in the building, was arrested and convicted in April 2012 for murder and kidnapping.  He was sentenced to 25 year to life in prison.

image via polycor.com

A renovation by architects Montroy Andersen DeMarco completed in 2018 resulted in "a significant repositioning," as worded by the firm's website.  The vintage building was modernized to accommodate 21st century tenants, including "the financial and hospitality sectors."  With the updates came a new address, 101 Greenwich Street.

many thanks to reader Laurie Gwen Shapiro for requesting this post

Emery Roth's 1925 310 West End Avenue

 

Emery Roth is perhaps best known for his sophisticated Art Deco style apartment buildings.  But in 1924, when he was hired by the 310 Corporation to design a 15-story structure at the southeast corner of West End Avenue and West 75th Street, he turned instead to the Italian Renaissance for inspiration.  Completed the following year, the building was clad in brown brick and trimmed in stone and terra cotta.  

The two-story entrance framework included crown-capped Renaissance style shields, elaborate capitals, decorative finials, and a complex carved frieze that included portrait rondels.  Other romantic details were stone balconettes at the 13th floor that supported double-height arcades.

An advertisement in The New York Times on May 20, 1925 stressed the "oversize" apartments, saying that a five-room apartment was "equal to a splendid 6-room suite."  The apartments, said the ad, were "built to an ideal" with "spaciousness the keynote."  A five-room apartment included two bedrooms, a dining alcove, foyer, "five large closets," two baths and a servant's room.  The ad noted each apartment had a separate delivery entrance.  There were also 3- and 4-room apartments available.  Rents for a five-room unit ranged from $2,800 to $3,400 a year--equal to about $4,525 per month for the most expensive in 2024 terms.

Among the early tenants was actress Anna Laughlin Monroe, known to theater audiences nationwide as Anna Laughlin.  On April 6, 1937, the Springfield [Missouri] Leader and Press commented that she lived "in a richly-furnished apartment on West End avenue."

Born in Sacramento California in 1885, Laughlin began appearing on stage as a child.  In 1902, at the age of 16, she was cast in the role of Dorothy Gale in the new play The Wizard of Oz, which opened in Chicago and played on Broadway through 1904.  The Associated Press called her "the toast of Broadway when Fred Stone was doing his scarecrow dance in the 'Wizard of Oz'." 

In 1904, a diamond merchant named Dwight "Van" Monroe saw Laughlin on stage and was smitten.  "Every night for four weeks he bought a ticket--an aisle seat on the fourth row--to hear Anna Laughlin sing 'Rosalie'," recalled the Associated Press in 1937.  The couple was married in 1906 and had a daughter, Lucy.

Anna Laughlin appeared in 18 silent films between 1913 and 1915, and following her husband's death in 1925, she returned to Broadway in The Fall Guy, after which her theatrical career came to an end.

Anna Laughlin, from the collection of the New York Public Library.

In the meantime, Lucy Monroe had taken over the spotlight.  Anna had encouraged her daughter's musical ambitions and in 1925 Lucy joined the Ziegfeld Follies.  By the time her mother moved into 310 West End Avenue, she was known nationally as a singer.  Her stellar career drove a wedge between her and her mother, and eventually led to Anna Laughlin Monroe's death.

On April 5, 1937, Anna wrote a long, accusatory note that read:

This is goodbye.  People are dreadful.  I love my child.  I have given all I have in the world to put her where she is now.  She has gone.  This is a suddenly strange place.  I want her.  I ask my God from heaven--let me in.

Lucy is never coming back.  Where did I fail?  What is wrong?  She does not know what she is doing.

I had intended to sublet, but no one came.

Oh, I hate to dim out the light and turn my back upon all the things so dear to my heart.  Forgive me, dear God.  We were so eager to see things together, but my darling daughter has forsaken me.  Please, Heavenly Father, watch over my child and protect her.

She then pulled a kitchen chair up to the range, opened all the gas jets and placed her head in the oven.  She was found dead later that day.

The building continued to attract well-heeled tenants through the Depression and World War II years.  On August 25, 1941, for instance, the New York Sun reported that John Wershing had taken an apartment "of five rooms and two baths," noting he was the "owner of a sugar plantation in Puerto Rico."  Living here at the time were David Zimmern and his wife, the former Sadie Goodstein.  A retired diamond importer, he had been a partner in Zimmern, Rees & Co. for six decades.

Joseph Hunt Bourland was born in Clarendon, Texas on January 31, 1911.  After graduating from Texas A. and M., he entered the Naval Academy.  He and his wife, Gertrude, lived here when the United States entered World War II and Bourland, now a Lieutenant Commander, was called to action.

On July 30, 1943, the 1,525-ton submarine Runner was commissioned with Bourland assigned as the skipper of its 65-man crew.  Gertrude Bourland received the worst imaginable news three months later.  On October 27, 1943, The Times Record reported, "The Navy today announced the loss of the submarine Runner, presumably in the Pacific."

The second half of the century saw an influx of residents involved in the arts.  Amy Zahl, who lived in apartment 12C, had a long-term houseguest in writer Adele Wiseman from September 1960 through June 1961, according to Ruth Panofsky's The Force of Vocation.  Born in 1928 in Canada, Wiseman's first novel, The Sacrifice, was published in 1950.  While living here she wrote "Duel in the Kitchen," a short story published in Maclean's magazine in January 1961.

According to Kate Bassett in her 2014 In Two Minds: A Biography of Jonathan Miller, British theatrical director, actor and author Sir Jonathan Wolfe Miller and his wife, Rachel Collet, rented an apartment here while living in New York City in 1964 while Miller directed Robert Lowell's The Old Glory at the American Place Theatre.

By 1967, the year that 310 West End Avenue was converted to a cooperative, artist and sculptor Clara Shainess lived here.  Born in 1896, she was known for her geometric abstractions.  Listed in Who's Who of American Women and Who's Who in American Art, her work was exhibited at the 1939 World's Fair, and in gallery exhibitions for decades.

Ronald Steven Lauder and his wife, the former Jo Carole Knopf, were residents starting around 1987.  Born in 1944, Ron Lauder was one of two sons of Estée and Joseph Lauder and an heir to the Estée Lauder cosmetics company.  He was, more importantly, a politician and activist.

In 1984, he was made Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for European and NATO Policy at the Department of Defense.  Two years later, President Ronald Reagan appointed him U.S. Ambassador to Australia.  After leaving that position in 1987, he returned to New York City.  While living here in 1989, he ran for mayor of New York City, losing to Rudy Giuliani.

Emery Roth's staid brown brick building is little changed since it opened in the spring of 1925.

photographs by the author

The Lost St. Ambrose Church - Prince and Thompson Streets

 

image from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

On Monday, January 25, 1838, Charles B. Moore, the Master in Chancery, sold the property at the southwest corner of Thompson and Prince Streets at auction.  The nearly square plot measured 70 feet along Prince Street and 67 feet on Thompson.  Sitting upon it was a stoic granite building, erected before the Revolutionary War for military purposes and since converted to a Scotch Presbyterian church.  According to Herbert B. Steele, in an interview with the New-York Tribune in March 1903,

The site was originally that of a fort, you know, during British occupation, and afterward used by our own soldiers as a garrison.  You can see where the cellar walls are stoutly buttressed.  Thousands of pounds of gunpowder have been stored there at one time...After the war closed?  Oh, yes, it was then used for government stores and by the city till the Presbyterians got hold of it, in 1815, and made a church of it.

Four months after the auction, on March 29, 1838, an announcement in The Evening Post said that the "Eighth Ward Protestant Episcopal Church, corner of Prince and Thompson sts." would be renting pews three days that week from 3 to 6 p.m.  Before a year had passed, the church's name had been changed to the Church of the Annunciation.  It would be just the first of several name changes to come.

Its military origins made the gray granite building about as somber as an ecclesiastical structure could be.  The addition of a shallow gable roof had given it a vaguely Greek Revival appearance, as did the unusual earred stone lintels over the Thompson Street openings.

A common method for congregations to raise funds to pay off their mortgages was a fair.  A notice in The Evening Post on December 28, 1839 announced, "The Ladies' Sewing Society attached to the Church of the Annunciation, (Rev. Dr. Seabury, Rector,) intend holding a fair for the sale of a variety of useful and fancy articles, at the Lyceum building, in Broadway, second door south of Prince st."

The Church of the Annunciation remained here until 1847 when it moved north to 14th Street.  The Thompson Street building became home to Emmanuel Church.  On December 10, 1848, its new rector, Rev. Alexander S. Leonard, took the pulpit.  The congregation's stay would be short.  Six years later, on July 9, 1853, The New York Times reported,

The Vestry of the Anglo-American Free Church of St. George the Martyr, have rented the building on the corner of Prince and Thompson-streets, heretofore occupied by the congregation of Emmanuel Church...The location is intended to be but temporary.

The Church of St. George the Martyr was organized in 1845.  The New York Times said its primary purpose was, "to provide a church to which persons coming from Great Britain could resort; secondly to afford help by way of counsel to those who stand in need of it, and thus to save them from many pitfalls; and, thirdly, to administer to their material wants, and especially to give aid to the sick."

As intended, the congregation's time here was "but temporary."  It moved far north to 44th Street between Fifth And Sixth Avenues and the Thompson Street church became a "chapel of ease," or "overflow mission," for St. Thomas's Church, then at the corner of Broadway and Houston Streets.  On September 4, 1858, the New-York Tribune reported, "The Rev. Ralph Hoyt, whose name is pretty well known both as a poet and a clergyman, officiates regularly at the (free) chapel of St. Thomas Church at the corner of Prince and Thompson streets...We mention the fact of his present location for the benefit of persons who may desire to hear him.  The seats are free."

The dizzying series of name changes was not over.  The New York Times reported on November 29, 1866 that St. Ambrose Church, "lately constituting the Mission Chapel of St. Thomas' Church, meeting at the corner of Prince and Thompson-streets, has just been organized and incorporated."  

At the time, the district that would become known as Soho was still affluent, its streets lined with elegant Federal and Greek Revival mansions.  Herbert B. Steele would recall the affluent families who worshiped at St. Ambrose Church, saying, "a long row of coaches stood before its door after service, and many of the city's old families were represented among its vestrymen--Commodores Vanderbilt and Gerry, General [John G.] Barnard, R. Fulton Cutting and A. T. Stewart, whose home was then in Sullivan-st."

The congregation became known for its outreach.  On June 8, 1868, The New York Times remarked, "The Friendly Society of St. Ambrose Church (Episcopalian), although but little known to the general public--by reason of the quiet and unostentatious manner in which its work has been conducted--is one of the most deserving of Christian charities, having for its object the pecuniary relief of the aged poor of all Protestant denominations, without reference to sex, color or nationality, within the limits of that parish."

The need to provide financial help to citizens within the boundaries of the parish was a hint of the changes that were taking place.  By 1874, the influx of poor immigrants had changed the neighborhood from one of refined private homes to tenements.  The other churches abandoned the district as their congregants moved further uptown.  The Diocesan Record of Mississippi said on October 3 that year,

This is the only church we have in a ward overcrowded with thirty-five thousand souls.  Amid these thousands, chiefly of the very poverty stricken, the Rev. Mr. Sill, the rector of St. Ambrose, moves about giving counsel in hours of dire extremity, both for soul and body.  St. Ambrose was originally built for the Scotch Presbyterians; it afterwards became the chapel of a wealthy uptown congregation.

Worshipers in St. Ambrose Church could expect to hear stern Victorian instruction.  On March 15, 1874, for instance, Rev. Frederick Sill's topic was "Temperance and Industry."

The changing demographics necessitated the addition of a priest, the Rev. Stander, as "missionary to the Italians."  On November 13, 1875, in reporting on the confirmation of 85 new parishioners, The Evening Post said, "The services were conducted in the Italian language" and "the Italians made the responses and sang the psalms and hymns in their own tongue."

Rev. Frederick Sill's successor was the wealthy Rev. Joseph Bloomfield Wetherill.  His wife was the daughter of Judge J. Lawrence Smith and a niece of millionaire Alexander Turney Stewart (an original congregant of St. Ambrose).  Herbert B. Steele would recall, "He and his wife put their whole souls into the upbuilding of the church, and spent any amount of money on it."

Among their improvements was the addition of six "very fine paintings," as described by Steele, purchased in Italy.  He estimated their value at "fifty or sixty thousand dollars."  (That appraisal would translate to roughly $1.7 million in 2024.)

image via Saint Thomas Church Fifth Avenue by J. Robert Wright (original source unknown)

At around 5:30 on the evening of January 24, 1883, sexton Alexander Bradley went to the church to light the stoves in preparation for that night's services.  He took his young son with him.  He unlocked the door, but found it barred from the inside and could hear footsteps within the church.  Leaving his son on the stoop, he "ran around to Prince street and found one of the windows open," reported The Sun.  He climbed in.  There was no one inside and now the front door was open.  His son said a man had rushed out and run away.

The would-be burglars had cut the paintings from their frames, torn up the carpets and rolled the paintings inside.  In the small yard behind the church, a stovepipe was found, in which the largest of the paintings had been stashed.  Luckily, according to the article, none of the artwork was "much injured."  The sexton had arrived just in time.  The entire communion service had also been packed up for removal.  The Sun noted, "In the course of the search for valuables the robbers discovered a bottle of wine intended for the communion service on Sunday next.  They poured a portion of it into two small silver vessels belonging to the communion service, and drank the rest."

Herbert Steele later added, "The pictures were replaced and the matter hushed up," but iron grating was installed over the windows.

The Rev. Joseph Bloomfield Wetherill died on December 6, 1886.  His funeral was held in St. Ambrose Church on December 8.  Steele said, "After Dr. Wetherill's death his widow removed the paintings, as they were really personal property."

As more Germans poured into the neighborhood, still another priest was brought into St. Ambrose.  On November 24, 1900, The Church Standard reported that the Rev. Henry C. Dyer had been appointed "to take charge of the services in the Italian language," while noting, "the Rev. Geo. F. Langdon has charge of the services in English, and the Rev. Martin Albert ministers to the German congregation."

At the time of the article, the end of the line for the venerable church, which had been described by The Sun at the time of the attempted robbery in 1883 as "a plain, substantial-looking stone building," was on the near horizon.  On March 8, 1903, the New-York Tribune reported that the Church of St. Ambrose "is to be torn down in April to make room for a ten story tenement house."

The article noted, "Last Sunday, a slight noise in the vestibule attracted the sexton's attention, as he has been obliged to keep a sharp lookout for small boys of penny pitching proclivities, who make this spot their rendezvous.  Instead, he found two young men whom, in his provincialism, he took for reporters, until from the questions and conversation about the old church it transpired that they were a Vanderbilt and a Cutting, come to look for the first and last time at the church of their ancestors."

The replacement building survives.  image via apartments.com

The Antonio Di Giovanni Bakery Building - 228 Elizabeth Street

 

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.

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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