The Lost Stephen N. Simonson Building - 304 West 52nd Street

 

In 1941, a welding shop occupied the ground floor.  Next door to the right was the Palm Garden Theatre.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

As early as 1870, the office of carpenter and real estate operator Stephen N. Simonson was located in the ground floor of a frame, two-story structure at 304 West 52nd Street just west of Eighth Avenue.  Its Italianate-style design included wooden architraves and a handsome cornice with scrolled, foliate corbels.

Born in Westchester County, New York in 1833, Simonson was highly involved in civic affairs.  He served as a trustee in the "the common schools" (or public schools), and would be elected an assemblyman in 1879.

Among the properties Simonson represented were several in what was called the West End.  On April 13, 1870, for instance, years before West 72nd Street would be lined with upscale rowhouses, he advertised:

To Let--In Seventy-second-st., between Eighth and Ninth-ave, near westerly entrance of Central Park, a pleasant place; large house, carriage-house, 8 lots, fruit [trees], &c.  Eighth-ave. cars near.  Inquire of S. N. Simonson, 304 West Fifty-second-st.

In 1880, the title of 304 West 52nd Street was transferred to James A. Striker, who owned multiple properties on West 52nd and 53rd Streets.  

Before 1906, the ground floor office was converted to an automobile service garage--one of several in this part of the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood.  The proprietor, like all other service station owners, cavalierly dumped his waste into the public sewers.   The practice resulted in what The Evening World described as "sewerquakes," as motor oil and gasoline ignited below the streets.

Surveyors of the Health Department inspected "the sewerquake district," in the spring of 1906.  On April 28, a dozen service stations, including 304 West 52nd Street, were notified that "no gasoline may be allowed to escape into the house drains and thus into the sewers."  The Evening World reported that manhole covers were being temporarily removed to ventilate the pent-up fumes that had been exploding throughout the area.

In the meantime, the second floor apartment was leased to working class families.  Living here in 1910 was the Maehr family.  Their teenaged son, Alexander, had an ingenious if criminal bent.  On November 26, he went to the residence of Edward Lessberger, "a rich metal manufacturer, 118 East Sixtieth Street," as reported by The New York Times.  He told the maid that he was a messenger boy and was answering a call.  The servant said she was unaware of anyone asking for a messenger, but said she would check.

"Leaving the door ajar, the girl went upstairs to ask Mrs. Lessberger, and when she returned she told the lad no call had been made.  Maehr then left."  Ten minutes later, Edward Lessberg discovered that his expensive overcoat was missing from the coat rack near the front door.  Police began a search for the article with no success.  Then, that afternoon a pawn broker called police headquarters saying that a boy was trying to pawn a coat that "probably did not belong to him."  Unaware that the call was made, Alexander Maehr continued to negotiate with the shop owner until police walked in and arrested him.

The ground floor shop went through several quick turnovers.  In 1913, the Lozier Rubber Works, dealers of automobile tires and inner tubes, occupied the space.  Within two years, the California Auto Sheet Metal Works was here.  It advertised, "Radiator-Fender-Lamp repairing.  Work finished the day received.  Your money refunded if not satisfied."  

In 1920, Rialto Electric Stage Lighting, operated by Charles Schmitz, moved in.  Until recently, theater stages were illuminated by limelight--a bright light created when a flame of burning oxygen and hydrogen was directed through a cylinder of quicklime, or calcium oxide.  Now, the introduction of electricity was transforming theater lighting.

Little Theatres monthly, December, 1923 (copyright expired)

Robert C. Entwistle worked closely with Charles Schmitz until 1926, when he purchased the business and renamed it Robert C. Entwistle Stage Lighting Equipment.  An advertisement in Exhibitors Daily Review that year offered, "technical consultation service in all branches of the trade."

Photographed in 1932, the sign announced "Electric Stage Lighting.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Like Alexander Maehr, 19-year-0ld Cornelius Desmond, who lived upstairs in 1929, ran afoul of the law on May 8.  That rainy afternoon, Patrolman Edward Johnson stepped into a shoe store on Eighth Avenue during his break.  He walked into the rear room to hang up his raincoat when he heard, "Hands up!" from the front.

Cornelius Desmond and an accomplice had the store owner, Arthur Rubin, at gunpoint.  Johnson took out his service revolver.  The Evening Post said, "He could have shot down the two bandits...But Johnson kept his head.  He 'didn't want to hurt anybody.'"  As Johnson stepped out of the rear, Desmond, "saw the policeman and turned a loaded .38 revolver toward him."  That was the last thing Desmond would remember for a while.  "Just as Desmond tried to pull the trigger something hit him like a Florida tornado.  It was the patrolman's left fist."

With Desmond unconscious on the floor, Frank Kutch dropped his revolver and headed for the door.  Before he could escape, Johnson grabbed him and pulled him back into the rear room.  The teens were charged with assault and robbery, "but they seemed to think that most of the assault was on Johnson's side," said the article.

In 1939, a welding shop had replaced the lighting firm.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

On October 19, 1948, The New York Times reported on plans to erect a 12-story-and-penthouse apartment building on Eighth Avenue between 51st and 52nd Streets.  Something derailed that project, but the reprieve for 304 West 52nd Street and its neighbors would not be especially long.  A hotel building on the site was completed in 1962, and it was replaced in 2015.