The two-and-a-half story house at 59 Sullivan Street, erected around 1820, was faced in Flemish bond brick. Like scores of Federal style residences constructed at the time, the 26-foot-wide dwelling had a peaked roof with two dormers.
Likely the original owner, Martin M. Myers and his family occupied the house as early as 1827. A lamplighter, Myers's profession was a relatively new one. The laying of pipes under New York City's sidewalks for gas streetlights had begun in 1823. Myers and his wife had three children, John M., William H., and Susan A.
In the rear yard was a smaller house. Henry R. Bush, a laborer, and his wife and son; and Jeremiah Sproull, a carpenter, and his wife Sarah, shared the address with the Myers in 1827. Presumably, the Bushes or the Sproulls (or both families) occupied the rear dwelling.
While most boarders were transient, remaining for relatively short periods, the Bush and Sproull families would be here for years. Richard J. Bush, a mason, was still here in 1836. He had been, as well, a volunteer firefighter in Fire Engine Company No. 1 as early as 1829. Jeremiah Sproull died around 1836 and Sarah Sproull remained here until 1845.
In 1840, John M. Myers was old enough to work. A wheelwright, he repaired wooden wheels for wagons, carriages, carts and such. John's sister was studying for a profession at the time. Susan A. Myers began teaching in Ward School No. 29 on Greenwich Street around 1853. Her salary that year was $100--about $4,070 in 2025 terms.
In the meantime, Martin M. Myers had been incensed by his real estate tax bill in 1845. He protested the assessment, and on May 5, 1846, the Committee on Annual Taxes admitted "that they made an error in copying the book" concerning "the assessed value of house and lot, No. 59 Sullivan Street." The committee approved the $8.88 refund owed to Martin M. Myers for his overpayment.
Isabella Jewesson, who taught in the primary department of School No. 44 on North Moore and Varick Streets, possibly knew Sarah Myers through their professions. Jewesson boarded with the Myers family through 1855 to 1858.
Around 1860, William C. Hanna and his family moved into 59 Sullivan Street, almost assuredly in the rear house. He operated a significant construction business with his office at 66 Thompson Street. The family would rent from Myers through 1869, after which William C. Hanna moved to Brooklyn.
Trow's New York City Directory, 1865 (copyright expired)
Two years into the Civil War, on March 23, 1863 Congress passed the Enrollment Act. Using a lottery system, the draft augmented the numbers of troops within the Union Army. Among the names pulled in the drawing on August 25, 1863 was William H. Myers.
During the war, former slaves fled northward. They established the first black enclave around Minetta Lane and Minetta Street, which earned the nickname Little Africa. The racially varied demographics had spread south 59 Sullivan Street by 1874, when Theodore Martin rented space from Myers, almost assuredly in the rear house.
On October 15 that year, The New York Times reported that he had narrowly escaped a fatal accident. "Theodore Martin, aged thirty-eight, a colored man, residing at No. 59 Sullivan street, was caught between two trucks at Pier No. 8 North River [i.e., Hudson River], and had several ribs fractured."
The title to 59 Sullivan Street passed to John M. Myers following his father's death. On April 8, 1876, the Record & Guide reported he had filed plans to raise the attic to a full floor at a cost of $600, about $17,600 today. (The upper addition is marked by the change from Flemish to running bond brickwork.) The builder matched the fenestration of the second floor and installed a denticulated cornice.
With the added space, John M. Myers's home became essentially a boarding house. The Byrne family moved in by 1878. James Byrne was a laborer, and Patrick and Terrence Byrne listed their professions as "hair." They were, most likely, dealers in human hair for wigs and what today would be called extensions.
Mary Seaman, the widow of Charles Seaman, had moved into the house with her teenaged son, also named Charles, around 1878. On February 15, 1879, The New York Times reported that Charles had been the key in busting a jewel theft ring. Four teens, Louis J. Piatti, Nathan Lederman, John E. Tischer, and John E. Topping, operated a scheme by which Topping, who was a clerk in the jewelry firm of Jacob Marx & Co., routinely stole valuable items from the safe. They hired Charles Seaman for $4 a week to take the stolen jewels to pawnshops and return the money to the gang. Detectives told reporters that Seaman, "was an innocent party, and he was used by them to find out the truth."
A Mrs. Pose, who boarded here by 1883, operated a business that would be shocking today. The New York Times reported on March 23, 1883 that Mrs. Rose Pardo had charged a former servant, Sarah Wallace, of murdering her six-month-old baby, Stella Hayward Levy Pardo, by poison. In court, Rose Pardo explained they she had purchased the baby from Mrs. Pose. The article said,
Mrs. Pardo met the mother of the child, who is a stranger to her, at Mrs. Pose's house, and on being told that the child would be well cared for the mother, relinquished all right to her offspring to Mrs. Pardo. The latter paid $10 for the babe and took her to her home.
Two years later, on November 25, 1885, Mrs. Pose placed an advertisement in The Sun for "a very fine boy." The next day, a man posing as a customer arrived. The Sun explained, "A young man who didn't need any babies, but who desired to inform himself upon all subjects, read the notice and determined to go and see what the boy was like." When the visitor, "asked what kind of baby it was," Mrs. Pose was indignant. The article said,
Ignorance, she declared, was evident in the young man's every remark--deep and wicked ignorance. That boy was a fine boy; he was only 3 days old, and remarkably intelligent for that age. The erratic growth of black hair was a sign of strength and the rich coloring of his face indicated that he would grow up to have a very fair and very beautiful complexion.
Mrs. Pose told the visitor "that if his wife really wanted a nice, young baby he might take that one away for $2, providing, of course, that he had a good home to take it to." Instead, the young man promised to tell any people who "yearn for a boy baby where to find one" and left.
By the turn of the century, the neighborhood around 59 Sullivan Street was part of what newspapers called "the Italian colony." In 1903, the Spina family, which now owned the building, renovated the ground floor for its saloon. Converting the ground floor to a commercial space necessitated an industrial grade beam, visible from the exterior. A large window was flanked by doorways--one to the tavern and the other to the upper floors. The entrances were accessed by twin stoops.
The renovation resulted a commercial space, seen here in 1928. from the collection of the New York Public Library.
The tavern's excise (or liquor) license was originally named in Francesco Spina. By 1912, Anthony Spina held the license. Rather than participate in the family's business, in 1916 Vincenzo Spina took a civil servant job as a "keeper" with the New York County jail. He earned $1,000 a year--about $28,600 today. In 1920, he received a significant raise to $1,330.
In the meantime, the Spina's renters were Italian-born. In 1905, Vincenzo Timpone worked as a Dock Laborer at $55 per month. Also living here that year was Giorgana Lozzetto, an organ grinder. He and his friend, Domenico Arvane, "who lives just a few doors above him," according to The New York Times, were in the center of a ruckus on the night of August 17, 1905.
The article said that around 10:00 the two were heading home from Harlem. "Giorgana was pushing the hurdy-gurdy, and Domenico was waddling along as well as he could, seeing that there were 700 pennies in his pockets." As they passed by the Imperial Hotel, three Irishmen asked them to play Tammany. As Gioragana played the song, police officer Ben Smith interrupted, saying "such music" could be not played after 7:00, according to The New York Times. Perhaps thinking that the policeman was anti-Irish, passersby demanded that Giorgana play it again. "They played it and again till they had earned $4."
As Smith hauled Giorgana and Domenico to the stationhouse, protesters followed, "arguing that in this free country a man ought to be allowed to play anything he chose, especially 'Tammany' in New York," recounted the article. They offered the two Italians $5 to continue to play the piece on the way to stationhouse. "Giorgiana struggled through the tune," said the story, while, "A crowd trailed behind, yelling industriously." Although the two were briefly detained, they returned home having had made a windfall through the impromptu protest.
The Spinas' saloon ended with Prohibition. During the Depression and World War II years, the storefront was home to a restaurant.
image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.
The venerable structure underwent a third substantial renovation in 1991. In remodeling it to a two-family home, the storefront was bricked up, pseudo-Colonial entrances were installed, and a center bay window was added.
photographs by the author
No comments:
Post a Comment