Tuesday, January 20, 2026

The 1890 Elmhurst Apartments - 212 West 105th Street

 

photo by Anthony Bellov

In 1889, Diedrich Tragman hired architect John C. Burne to design two identical apartment buildings at 210 and 212 West 105th Street between Amsterdam Avenue and The Boulevard (renamed Broadway in 1899).  

Each of the buildings cost Tragman $20,000 (or about $631,000 in 2026) to erect.  Unfortunately, he overextended himself and on May 10, 1890 he was forced to sell the "two five-story unfinished double flats in process of erection, requiring for the purpose of their completion an expenditure of about six thousand dollars," according to court papers later.  The buyer, Frederick M. Littlefield, completed the buildings.  (The term "double flat" referred to the configuration of two apartments per floor, east and west.)

The western building, 212 West 105th Street, was called the Elmhurst Apartments.  Like its architectural sibling, it was a happy marriage of Romanesque Revival and neo-Grec styles (the former appearing at the first and fifth floors). Paired windows on the first floor were engulfed by vast arches.  They flanked the brownstone-framed entrance above a short stoop.  Intricate swirling carvings filled its spandrels.

Faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone and terra cotta, the three-story midsection featured neo-Grec-style stone lintels, foliate terra cotta bandcourses and decorative panels.  The elements of the top floor included a dramatic brick arch above two fully arched openings.  It was supported by paired brick pilasters with terra cotta capitals.  A highly unusual pressed cornice with geometric horizonal and vertical lines completed the design.

photograph by Anthony Bellov

Each apartment held "six large, light rooms," according to an advertisement.  They rented for $25 a month, or about $1,000 today.  Among the initial tenants were builder and contractor Ernest Wetterer, and New York Life Insurance Company agent Silas E. Pearsall.

The middle-class residents were affluent enough to afford domestic help.  An advertisement in the New York Herald on January 18, 1893, read: "Housework--a girl, 16 to 17, to help with housework and washing; wages $5 or $6.  Mrs. Garrison, 212 West 105th st."  The higher figure would translate to about $215 today.  

Mary and H. D. Hubener purchased 212 West 105th Street in August 1906.  Two months later, "a heap of kerosene-soaked rags was found in the cellar," reported The New York Times, which said the "attempt to burn the building was reported to the police, but they were unable to get a clew to the firebug."  Mary Hubener had her suspicions, though.  She and her husband had previously owned an apartment house where they were harassed by a "woman firebug."  

The vengeful arsonist had only started, however.  A few months later, The Brooklyn Citizen reported, "The tenants of the house...had about forgotten this fire when on Dec. 1 another blaze was discovered among some furniture in the cellar.  Three days later this was discovered ablaze again, and the terror began to seize upon the tenants."

At 8:45 on the night of December 6, 1906, another rubbish fire was discovered in the cellar of the building and four nights later another was set in the hallway.  On January 7, 1907, the New York Herald reported on yet another fire, saying, "This was the fifth fire of undoubted incendiary origin that had been discovered in the house within two weeks."  On the same day, The Brooklyn Citizen reported that police "got information to-day that a woman firebug" was bent on destroying "the handsome ten-family apartment house."  Mary Hubener told the police the woman's name.  

The New York Herald added, "the place has a reputation of being a hoodoo house."  (The term meant it was cursed.)  Mary Hubener told a reporter from The Brooklyn Citizen, "These fires have about ruined me.  Nobody will live in the house."  The New York Herald reported that the repeated attempts to burn the building resulted in its being "almost deserted by its tenants.  Three of ten families were left and these had given notice of their intention to take an early departure."

The Hubeners apparently gave up.  On April 30, 1907, The New York Times reported that they had sold the building.  The fires ceased.

212 West 105th Street (right) is identical to its neighbor at 210.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Somewhat shockingly for the times, 26-year-old Florence Sohmer lived here on her own in 1911.  On the evening of August 6 that year, three teenaged males knocked on her door "with a letter purporting to come from a friend," as reported by The Evening World.  While she started reading the letter, one of them pulled out a revolver, "while another hit her over the head with a blackjack," said the article.  Florence Sohmer screamed, frightening her assailants and causing them to flee.  Florence's shrieks had alerted passersby.  The Evening World said the men "ran, with a crowd following into Morningside Park."  The trio, whose ages ranged from 17 to 19, were later captured.

Living here around the time was French-born Marie Escande and her daughter, Charlotte.  Marie worked as the companion of wealthy window Dorcas Knox Braisted, who lived in the Hotel Gotham on Fifth Avenue.  Mrs. Braisted died at her summer home in White Plains on March 24, 1925.  The New York Times reported, "Mme. Marie Escande of 212 West 105th Street...will receive an annuity of $1,800."  The annual windfall would equal more than $32,000 today.

A tenant named Thylstrup also worked for himself.  Moving in around 1915, he remained here into the 1920s.  His advertisements over the years never changed: "Painter, paperhanger, kalsominer, first class; has tools; reasonable."  (A skilled craftsman, a kalsominer applied kalsomine to ceilings, resulting in a matte finish.)

A replacement door sits within the carved brownstone frame.  photo by Anthony Bellov

There are still just two apartments per floor in the building that lost its name decades ago.  Other than a shocking coat of bright turquoise paint on the cornice, little has changed externally to the 135 year old building.

many thanks to historian Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post

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