The James L. Laird House - 576 Sixth Avenue

 

The windows originally wore molded lintels.

Around 1851, a brownstone-faced four-story house-and-store was erected at 252 Sixth Avenue, just north of West 16th Street.  (The address would be renumbered 567 Sixth Avenue in 1925.)  Its Italianate design included a handsome cast metal cornice and elliptically arched windows that sat upon bracketed sills.

The original commercial tenant was the Peck & Morrison grocery store.  It was quickly replaced by the J. Reeves & Co. butcher shop, run by James Reeves.  Reeves had a second store at 636 Hudson Street.

In the meantime, the upper floors were home to several renters.  One of them sought work in May 1861, announcing in the New York Herald:

Wanted--By a respectable girl, a situation in a small private family; is a good washer and ironer and an excellent baker.  Can be seen for two days if not engaged.  Call at 252 6th avenue.

Around 1865, James H. Laird purchased the building and installed his fish and oyster business in the store.  Living with him and his wife, Mary C., was his widowed mother, Mary Ann Laird.  The Lairds took in roomers, as well.

On November 3, 1868, Laird advertised for help in the New York Herald.  His ad sought, "A young man who understands the fish and oyster business; also, an errand boy.  Inquire at 252 6th av."

Oysters were an important and inexpensive staple in New Yorkers' diets in the mid-19th century.  Found on the tables of the city's mansions and in the "oyster saloons" of the Bowery, New Yorkers consumed more than 12 million oysters a year.  Almost assuredly, Laird's shop included an oyster bar or cafe.

Mary Ann Laird died on September 15, 1873 and her funeral was held in the house two days later.

The Lairds took in only a few roomers at a time.  In 1876, they were Margaret Berrian, a widow; and dressmaker Delia Madigan.  Delia would remain with the Lairds at least through 1880.

In 1881, James H. Laird hired a celebrated oyster shucker, John J. Gillen.  Born in 1849, he started at the age of 12 and had been shucking oysters on the riverfront for two decades.  On October 9 that year, the New York Herald described him as a "champion," extolling that he "has opened 7,000 oysters a day."  

That article caught the attention of another shucker, Joseph Sketchley, who worked on Oyster Boat No. 9, which docked at the foot of Charles Street.  Sketchley was offended and fired off a letter to the editor of the New York Herald that said in part:

J. J. Gilon [sic] says he has opened 7,000 oysters in one day.  I have opened 7,750 in a day, and have uncovered 38,650 in six days; which has never been equalled [sic] by any one in this country.  I will bet $250 that I can beat J. J. Gilon [sic] or J. H. Devonney in a match for six days, or any other living man.

The letter was signed, "Joseph Sketchley, Champion."

John Gillen explained that he had taken the job in Laird's shop to escape the spotlight.  He told a reporter, "I left the river because I wanted to get away from that crowd.  I'm not anxious to be dragged into a contest, though I believe I could hold my end up."  And he said he had already proven his superiority.  "I had a match with Sketchley last September year of a day's length.  I beat him.  My score was 7,000, his 6,750 in twelve hours."  He concluded, "Still, I've no desire to go back to those men."  

Living with the Lairds in 1882 was 21-year-old Herbert Winthrop Spink.  His father, Benjamin F. Spink, "keeps a number of jewelry stores in this City and Brooklyn," according to The New York Times.  Two years earlier, when Herbert was 19, his father opened a jewelry store at Eighth Avenue and 26th Street and put him in charge.

Because Christmas was just two days away, on Saturday night, December 23, Spink kept the store open until nearly midnight.  After counting the day's receipts and locking the money in the safe, Spink and his two clerks went "to a neighboring restaurant, where they partook of an oyster supper."  The three separated at 1:00 a.m., but he never made it home.

The clerks were surprised to find the store locked when they arrived Monday morning.  They opened the store and ran the business without their boss.  The New York Times reported on December 27, "one of the clerks went to the house No. 252 Sixth-avenue, where he occupied a furnished room and learned that he had not been seen there since Saturday."  Mary C. Laird allowed him to see the room, where he found the bed had not been slept in.

The store's safe was opened.  The cash--more than $37,500 in 2025 terms--was gone, but all the jewelry, diamonds and watches were intact.  Spink's disappearance was confounding.  The New York Times said, "Spink is a tall, robust young man, and not one who could have been easily spirited away, unless he was drugged or rendered insensible in some other manner."

The following day, The New York Times followed up.  Surprisingly, neither the police nor the Spinks were overly concerned.  The article said the police "do not appear to think that the circumstances of his disappearance warrant them in taking extraordinary steps to discover where he is.  His family does not appear to be very anxious about him."  And indeed, before long the wayward young man returned home in fine fettle.

In 1884, David Morrison opened his Fountaine Pin Manufacturing Company at 55 West 16th Street, directly behind the Lairds' building.  It created a tense and confrontational relationship.

On August 7, the New York Herald reported that Mary C. Laird, "who owns the premises No. 252 Sixth avenue," had sued Morrison for what today would be called noise pollution.  The factory's "steam engines and machines," which operated from 7:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., "make a loud, harsh, deafening, grinding and grating noise which is incessant and intolerable," according to Mary.  James H. Laird testified that, "the noise is so loud during the day as to prevent people from conversing in the rear rooms of plaintiff's house in an ordinary tone of voice, and that at such times parties cannot make themselves heard without shouting."  Mary claimed that the noise had affected her health, her comfort and convenience, and that "her family, friends, servants and tenants have already suffered great damage."

Morrison had his own complaints.  The New York Herald said, "He says that for a long time past she has carried on a fish market in her house and that the odors and smells from decayed fish and offal kept about her premises are at times very unhealthful." 

Unfortunately for the Lairds, Judge Ingraham decided that the factory sat within a business district and that the noise was not so great to "justify such an injunction." 

John J. Gillen was still working in Laird's store in 1885.  That year he finally relented to a shucking challenge.  His letter to the editor of the New York Herald published on April 14 read:

Sir: Please allow me to say in your valuable paper that I, John Gillen, accept John Hilland's challenge of $50 to open 1,000 clams, match to take place any time or place he names.  

                                    John Gillen, 252 Sixth avenue.

The Lairds had left 252 Sixth Avenue by the mid-1890s when John N. Oakford rented a room here.  A widower, he was born in New York City in 1825 and had been connected in the city courts since the 1860s.  When he died of consumption (or tuberculosis) in his "lodgings" here on June 19, 1898, The New York Times remarked, "He was one of the oldest members of the Tammany Society."  

In 1899, owner Henry Nassorf hired architect E. W. Gries to make $800 worth of renovations to the building.  It resulted in a commercial space on the second floor and one apartment each on the third and fourth floors.

Occupying the third floor apartment in 1901 was Mrs. Annie Cunningham, and living upstairs were Mrs. Courtney H. Cornell and her daughter, Boyd.  On the night of April 19, a fire broke out in the Cornells' apartment.  The New York Times reported that the occupants "were routed from their beds."

The Report of the Fire Department of the City of New York detailed that when Engine Company 14 arrived, Courtney and Boyd Cornell were "standing at a front window on that floor calling for help."  It said that firefighters George J. Fox and Eugene J. Rable,

...at once made their way by stairway to the floor on fire, and creeping along the hallway, through heavy smoke and intense heat, to the front room, dragged Mrs. Cornell and her daughter along the hallway, past [the] room from which the flames were bursting forth through [the] transom, and brought them by stairway in safety to the street.

The New York Times said, "The fire burned through to Mrs. Annie Cunningham's place, on the third floor, and drove her out.  The total damage was $2,500."  

By 1904, the Lincoln Jewelry Company operated from the second floor.  Among the sales staff that year was Sidney Ash.  On March 14, diamond rings valued at the equivalent of $21,800 today disappeared.  Sidney Ash fingered Alexander Hill, described by The New York Times as "a colored porter."  Ash told police that Hill had stolen and pawned the rings.

Alexander Hill was arrested for grand larceny.  His trial began on the morning of December 4.  Sidney Ash was in the courtroom to testify.  Shockingly, after repeating his accusations to the court, Ash suddenly changed from witness to suspect.

On the stand, Alexander Hill said that Ash had given him the rings and told him to pawn them.  He added that Ash, "had sent a man along to bring back the money."  Next to testify was Caroline Eckard, the cashier.  She told the court, according to the New York Herald, "that she saw Ash give the rings to Hill and tell him to pawn them."

Alexander Hill's attorney had summoned the staff of the pawn shop.  The New York Herald reported, "The pawnbroker and his clerks testified that Ash had called at the pawnshop before the rings were pawned and said he would send some jewelry there by the porter."  The pawnbroker further testified that after the transaction was completed, Ash had called again, "to learn if Hill had pawned it."

Sidney Ash was recalled to the stand, but he stuck to his story.  Nevertheless, according to The New York Times, Judge Cowing "committed Ash to the Tombs Prison on a charge of perjury and acquitted Hill on the larceny charge."

At the time, the ground floor commercial space was occupied by the men's furnishing store of L. D. Wildman.  Its window display in March 1905 "drew especial attention," according to Men's Wear.  "Something new was offered in the shape of green lights, which at night especially attracted the attention of people for several blocks," said the article.  Small Irish flags announced "special St. Patrick's Day prices" and "small shamrocks were given away, which were mounted on [advertising] cards."  A subsequent issue of Men's Wear reported, "At the close of this sale, which will last for several weeks, extensive alterations will be made on the store, which will include a new front and windows of modern design."

Quite surprisingly, the following year Benjamin F. Spink--the father of Herbert Winthrop Spink, who had so notoriously disappeared in 1882--purchased 252 Sixth Avenue.  Ironically, upon Benjamin Spink's death in the summer of 1915, Herbert inherited the property.  He almost immediately sold it.

In the post World War I years, M. Brokaw's men's hat store and Harry Hilenbrand's "suits and cloaks" business occupied the commercial spaces.  On March 6, 1919, Brokaw complained to the New-York Tribune about consumers' attitudes to hat prices.  "The customers are kicking about the raising of prices.  As a matter of fact, they do not want to pay as much as last year.  They want hats cheaper," he grumbled.

Herbert Winthrop Spink reappeared in the first years of the Great Depression, buying back the property.  It was a short investment, as it turned out.  On December 6, 1931, The New York Times reported that he had sold the building to an investor, saying, "Mr. Spink repurchased the plot a short time ago."

A modern storefront was in place by May 17, 1939 when P. L. Sperr took this photograph.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

In 1933 Max Morris signed a lease for what was now 576 Sixth Avenue.  The New York Times reported that he would convert the ground floor to "a restaurant and beer garden."  The space became Lollipop Fashions in 1948, and Lampland, a lighting store, in the early 1950s.  The following decade, Riog Spanish Bookstore was in the space, and as early as 1979 The Wine Gallery moved in.  By then, the entire facade had been covered with shingles.

The front was covered with wooden shingles for decades starting in the 1970s.

Nearly half a century after The Wine Gallery moved in, the store remains at 576 Sixth Avenue.  Recently, it received updated signage in a renovation that included the removal of facade shingles.

photographs by the author