John C. Watson's "The Avenue" -- 239-253 East 5th Street

 

photograph via David Mulkins

Real estate developer Isaac Sohnger completed construction of the six-story, brick-faced apartment building at the northwest corner of Second Avenue and East 5th Street in 1910.  Designed by John C. Watson, its residential entrance opened onto East Fifth Street.  Five stores, two on the side street and three on the avenue, lined the ground floor.  Called The Avenue, the Colonial Revival design of its mid-section featured stone quoins at the corners, and splayed limestone lintels with scrolled keystones.  The exception to the latter were the wider, tripartite windows on both elevations which wore stepped lintels.  In keeping with the Colonial motif, the upper sashes of the double-hung windows contained nine panes.  The openings of the top section were separated by blank stone panels.  Atop the deeply overhanging, bracketed cornice was a handsome stone balustrade.

Among the initial residents was 30-year-old Samuel Shor, who left early each morning to work in Brooklyn.  But his profession was much different from most residents.  During rush hour on May 8, 1911, he caught the attention of Detective Evans on the Brooklyn side of the Williamsburg Bridge where throngs were attempting to board streetcars to Manhattan.  The Brooklyn Eagle explained, "The police of the bridge station have received so many complaints of pickpockets operating during the morning and evening rush hours...that there is always a detective there."

As Evans watched, Shor jostled among the crowds "in the scramble for a car, elbowing people right and left, but he never got on," said the newspaper.  After 15 cars left without Shor making "an honest attempt to board one," Evans approached him.  Samuel Shor bolted.  Someone in the crowd cried, "pickpocket!" and, according to The Brooklyn Eagle, "the 3,000 persons on the plaza forgot they were waiting for cars, and joined the chase."  Happily for Shor, Detective Evans got to him first.  

At the station house, police recognized him as a man recently arrested for loitering around a streetcar stop without attempting to board.  Shor's profession was highly profitable.  He astonished police "by displaying several bank books, in which he was credited with a total of $30,000 in deposits," said the article.  (The figure would top $1 million in 2025 terms.)

The rooftop balustrade is evident in this 1934 photograph by P. L. Sperr.  (He noted, "The building on the N.W. corner is an old apartment house called 'The Avenue.'")  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Among Shor's neighbors in the building were Rosie Fischer and her 18-year-old daughter Paula.  The teen worked as a stenographer in a Hungarian bank on Second Avenue.  She caught the eye of Alexander Baehr, described by the New York Herald as the "son of a wealthy, retired merchant of Budapest, Hungary," and noted that he had one glass eye.  He arrived in America in 1910 and he, too, worked in the bank as a stenographer.

Despite their age difference (Baehr was 30), the two became engaged and the wedding was set for autumn in 1911.  In preparation, Baehr wrote to his father for money.  The New York Herald said on September 28, 1911, "Two weeks ago an answer came, but he appeared disappointed in the check which he received."  On the evening of September 16--one week before the wedding day--Baehr visited the Fischer apartment.  Disturbingly, he told Paula of his "burning his other eye with a cigarette the previous night," and said "if he should ever become totally blind he would take his life."

Paula and Rosie walked Baehr home.  Paula later told reporters that "she and her mother tried to get him to take a less gloomier view of what they thought was a slight injury."  He left his rooming house the next morning but never arrived at the bank.  On September 28, the New York Herald said, "Since that time he has not been heard from."  All of his personal effects were still in his room.  Police were notified and a search of the hospitals was made, but no trace of him could be found.

Then, on October 7, Paula received a telegram from San Francisco.  It read, "Do you want me to come back?"  Paula responded with what was, perhaps, a rare example of Edwardian feminine independence.  "As there was no explanation of his mysterious disappearance in the despatch [sic] Miss Fisher [sic] returned a negative answer," reported the New York Herald.  Rosie added, "My daughter considered her engagement with Mr. Baehr ended when he left her without explanation...We have no desire to receive any further communication from him."

The Margolies family lived in The Avenue in 1917.  Their son, Samuel, who was 16 years old, was a member of the Junior Police Department.  On March 5, 1917, he and schoolmate Edward Hirsch were riding home from school on the subway when, according to The New York Times, Samuel watched as a man "sidled mysteriously up to Edward and whispered mysteriously into his ear and then mysteriously shuffled away."  When the man left the car, Edward told Samuel, "He told me not to ride in the subway on Tuesday, for they are going to blow it up."

That night, Samuel told his father about the incident.  His father "hustled him around to the East Fifth street station," said the newspaper, "where he repeated his story."  Before long, Edward was in the station house as well, corroborating the facts.  It sparked a massive hunt within the subway system the following day, with police "looking sharply at every person who carried a bundle."  The New York Times said the search was ended at midnight confident that any "bomb plotters" had given up their "dastardly deed," as worded by the article.

In 1921, two of the Second Avenue stores were occupied by a Lofts candy shop and Isaac Rosenthal's men's clothing shop.  Lofts would remain for decades.  Sharing the avenue side in 1941 were I. Thaller's jewelry shop and the ABC's dairy store.  Four decades later, in 1981, The Last Word, a greeting card, stationery and gift store; and the Binibon Café operated from two of the spaces.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

On July 19, 1981, Jack Henry Abbott had breakfast at the Binibon Café.  Throughout his life he had been convicted for murder and other felonious crimes and had recently been released from prison.  (Interestingly, while incarcerated in 1978 he formed a close relationship with author Norman Mailer, who was researching his The Executioner's Song.)  

Richard Adan, who was 22 years old, worked in the cafe.  That morning, Abbott asked him where the restroom was.  According to Eric Ferrara in his A Guide to Gangsters, Murderers and Weirdos of New York City's Lower East Side, "Unfortunately for Adan, the Binibon either did not have a restroom or it was under construction."  It was not the answer Abbot was looking for.  He pulled out a knife and fatally stabbed Adan multiple times.  According to Ferrara, Abbot "was spotted and caught a few weeks later while hiding out in Louisiana."

By 1985, the Prometheus Theater occupied one of the East 5th Street spaces, and in October 1987, Tri Video opened in the other.  As early as 1989, the name of that shop was changed to Finyl Vinyl.  Writing in The New York Times on March 29, 1991, Eric Asimov quoted Finyl Vinyl's owner Rob Cohen saying, "Vinyl's in my blood," noting, "And vinyl's about all you will find in his store."

The commercial spaces have been home to a variety of restaurants and shops throughout the succeeding decades.  Through it all, other than the loss of the rooftop balustrade, the building retains its 1910 appearance, including the handsome entranceway and (rather astoundingly) most of the nine-paned sashes.

many thanks to historian Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post.