The 1885 112 First Avenue

 

photograph by Ted Leather

In the late 1840s, the neighborhood around Tompkins Square had filled with refined mansions.  But drastic change was on the near horizon.  The post-Civil War years saw thousands of immigrants--first German and then Eastern European--flooding into the district.  Private residences were replaced with tenement buildings to accommodate the exploding population. 

In 1885, developer Bernhard Wertheimer completed a five-story store and tenement building at 112 First Avenue.  Faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone, its neo-Grec-style design originally featured bracketed, molded sills and hefty, earred lintels embellished with incised decoration.  The ambitious cast metal cornice announced the date of construction in the fascia.  Its triangular pediment contained a sunburst, a frequent motif of the current Queen Anne style.

photograph by Ted Leather (cropped)

The store was leased to Emanuel Berger for his retail and wholesale cigar and tobacco operation.  He had founded his company in 1866 on Second Avenue.  The 1891 History and Commerce of New York said, "At the First Avenue premises an efficient staff of cigar makers is employed, and the proprietor gives his personal attention to its affairs in all departments."

While living here in 1888, Francisco Bona, went to the grocery store of Christian G. Thomas at the corner of Second Avenue and 7th Street.  He purchased five eggs and handed Thomas a $5 bill (equal to about $165 in 2025).  Thomas recognized the bill as a fake, and on July 19, 1888 The Evening World reported that "Francisco Bona, alias Frank Avona" had been arrested for counterfeiting.  "The scheme turned out badly and Francisco was soon before Commissioner Shields, who sent him to Ludlow Street Jail."

In November 1903, two half-sisters, Rosalie Feigelson and Frida Hanover, 22 and 18 years old respectively, arrived in New York City on the steamship La Touraine from Bremen.  The Evening World said, "Their dress was handsome and they seemed to have money."  The young women, who hoped to make a living in America as photographers, took an apartment at 112 First Avenue.

Although reportedly "proficient" in their craft, they struggled to find work.  "Gradually their money ran out," said The Evening World.  Eventually, in January 1904, Frida was forced to pawn their large camera.  "The money was used at once to pay debts," said the article."  She then took a job doing embroidery at $4 a week.  On February 2, The Evening World reported, "Her disappointment was great on Saturday when she received $1.50.  She and her sister could not exist on this."

Mary Levy, who ran the tenement with her husband, offered to help, but the sisters declined.  "That isn't independence," said Rosalie.  On the evening of February 1, they wrote a letter in Russian to the United States Government that explained they had been failures in this country.  The article said, "The girls, after writing the letter, turned on the gas and lay down to die in each other's arms."

Mary Levy upset their plans by detecting the odor of gas.  Officer Frank Muller carried the girls to the open air where they partially revived before being taken to Bellevue Hospital.  Their plight caught the attention of Mrs. Gichner, of the Baroness Clara De Hirsch Home on East 63rd Street.  She appeared in the Yorkville Police Court on February 3 (attempting suicide was a jailable offense) and told the magistrate that "she would give the young women a home until they could find suitable employment."

Another resident faced a judge that year.  John Mason and his friend, Richard Herlihy, who lived at 1,212 First Avenue, went to Central Park on May 29, 1904.  At around 72nd Street, they noticed a robin's nest in one of the trees.  Mason attempted to climb the tree, but it "was not strong enough to bear his weight, and broke, throwing Mason and the nest to the ground."

A passerby, Fred Foss, witnessed the incident and reported it to a policeman.  He "found Herlihy and Mason handling the robins," said The New York Times.  Magistrate Crane fined each man $5 (about $175 today).  The article said, "Mason wept in court, and the Magistrate delivered a lecture to him on the rights of the beasts and birds who are the city's wards when they make their homes in the precincts of the public parks."

The sills and lintels were intact in 1941.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

By 1916, the ground floor store was home to Harry Levy's floor covering shop, which offered "carpets, rugs, and linoleums."  In 1988, the Miracle Grill opened in the space.  The southwestern cuisine was the creation of "brat-pack chef Bobby Flay," who was 23 years old at the time, according to New York Magazine on October 10, 1988.   The restaurant would remain into the 1990s.

In the early 2000s, fledgling writer Cat Marnell moved into the building.  Born in 1982, she attended The New School where she studied nonfiction writing.  In her 2017 autobiography, How to Murder Your Life, she described her "alcove studio" here, saying, 

The creaky, dark, small building was above a strange Polish restaurant and a porny video shop; there was also a McDonald's and a combination Dunkin' Donuts/Baskin Robbins on the block.

Marnell soon realized she was not alone--there was a rodent infestation.  Unable to leave ("I'd just moved in; I'd paid a broker"), she resolved to bring nothing edible into the apartment.  "My fear of mice was more powerful than my eating disorder," she wrote.

Marnell became an established journalist and commentator, writing columns for periodicals like Vice, Glamour and Self.  Her autobiography became a New York Times bestseller.

photograph by Ted Leather

The attempt to modernize the building by shaving the brownstone detailing disfigured the 1885 design.  Happily, the bold cornice survives.

many thanks to reader Ted Leather for requesting this post