George Fred Pelham's 1893 332 West 51st Street

 

In September 1890, real estate operator William Ramsey purchased the three, three-story brick houses at 330 through 334 West 51st Street.  Each of them was 20-feet wide, giving Ramsey a 60-foot wide parcel upon which to build.  He would replace the three structures with two flat buildings.

Ramsey commissioned George Frederick Pelham to design the the structures.  In doing so, he was, perhaps, taking a risk.  The 23-year-old architect had just opened his office that year.  Born in 1867 in Ottawa, Ontario, he was the son of architect George Brown Pelham, who brought his family to New York City in 1875.  George had entered his father's firm as a draftsman.  Ramsey's commission was among the earliest--if not the first--he received.

Construction on the identical, Romanesque Revival-style buildings was completed in 1891.  The first and second floors were faced in brownstone and the upper three in orange brick.  The arched entrance, which sat above a four-step stoop, and the panels below the windows were carved with intricate Romanesque-style carvings.  Above a molded cornice, the second floor was faced in planar stone, its openings framed in undressed brownstone and capped with dramatic, flaring voussoirs.  

The third and fourth floors sat between molded intermediate cornices.  Double-height brick piers between the openings were capped with carved medieval-style capitals.  They were connected by layered stone arches, the single spandrel of which was filled with elaborate foliate carvings.  The arched windows of the top floor wore brownstone voussoirs capped with stone eyebrows.  

Described as "double flats," the buildings had two apartments per floor.  An advertisement for both buildings in April 1893 offered, "Elegantly decorated apartments of 7 rooms and bath, all light; steam heat, &c.; rent $45 and upward."  Given the location on the eastern edge of Hell's Kitchen, the rent was somewhat pricey.  The base rent would translate to $1,625 in 2026.

Among the initial residents of 332 West 51st Street were Dr. William S. McMurdy and his wife, Fannie, who were married in 1890.  Born in 1858, McCurdy was an 1881 graduate of Princeton University and earned his medical degree at the College of Physicians and Surgeons. He started his practice in 1889.

Like almost all doctors, McMurdy was called upon day and night.  On April 13, 1895, The Evening World began an article saying, "A small epidemic of insanity swept over Manhattan Island during last night."  Among the "several cases of a more or less violent nature," was that of John Kane, a driver for Hook and Ladder Truck 21.  Two years earlier, he suffered a head injury while fighting a fire and "since that time he has been acting queerly," explained The Evening World.  In January 1895, his condition became so severe that he was put on sick leave.

At 1:00 on the morning of April 13, Kane told his wife that "he was going out to find the captain of his company and kill him."  Alarmed, Mrs. Kane summoned Dr. McMurdy.  When he arrived, Kane told him that he knew that he was insane, but could not stop his murderous impulses.  "He asked, for the safety of his wife and child, that he be taken to a hospital," reported The Evening World.  Kane was taken by ambulance to Roosevelt Hospital and later removed to Bellevue Hospital.

Mrs. E. Lambert, who lived here as early as 1898, was the guardian of her 19-year-old nephew, George Austin.  He left their apartment on August 23 and did not come home.  Five days later Mrs. Lambert was frantic.  The New York Herald reported, "She said she had made a round of all the hospitals of the city and had caused an alarm to be sent out by the police, but has received no tidings of the missing youth."  It is unclear whether Austin was ever found.

The unmarried Marie Quinn was pulled into a bizarre incident involving one of New York City's wealthiest bachelors, Robert Goelet, in November 1903.  Eleanor Anderson, who lived next door at 330 West 51st Street, asked Marie to go to St. Patrick's Cathedral and "vouch for her character" to Father Lavelle.  Marie did so.  (Eleanor was a telegraph operator, the daughter of a Sixth Avenue restaurant owner, and the sister of "the champion oyster opener of Sixth avenue," as described by the New York Herald.)

On November 3, Robert Goelet left his Newport mansion to travel to New York City, "wondering who had put into circulation a story published yesterday afternoon that he had married a Miss Eleanor Anderson of 330 West Fifty-first street," reported the New York Herald.  Goelet told reporters, "I have not the pleasure of the lady's acquaintance.  I never even heard of her existence until the newspaper story of my marriage to her appeared."  Additionally, said the Episcopalian millionaire, "Only once in my life have I been in the Cathedral, and then I only went to look at the place."

Marie Quinn could not help in the mystery.  She told a reporter that Eleanor had not told her the groom's name.  Father Lavelle was equally unhelpful, saying, "Miss Anderson's matrimonial arrangements...were none of the public's business."  What was certain, however, is that Robert Goelet was not Eleanor Anderson's new husband.

Although the residents of 332 West 51st Street were middle class, they were affluent enough to afford domestic help.  Albert Hartog and his wife employed a maid, Mable Lewis, in 1905.  On September 5, the New York Herald reported, "she disappeared after she had been at work a few days, taking a watch and pin worth $240."  (The value of the items would equal more than $8,800 today.)

As it turned out, this was not Mabel's first offense.  Young women often practiced what police called the "service game," taking domestic jobs just to steal valuables.  "When police looked up the woman's record they found that her picture is in the rogues' gallery and that she has served time for similar thefts," reported the New York Herald.

On September 3, Hartog was walking along Eighth Avenue when he saw Mable at 54th Street.  The New York Herald reported that he, "took her by the back of the neck and marched her to the West Forty-seventh street station, where she confessed."  The pin was recovered, but the watch had apparently been pawned. 

Albert Wilcox and his wife lived here in November 1934, when they had a young houseguest, Private John G. McFadden, a soldier stationed at the Military Academy at West Point.  Among McFadden's extracurricular duties was the "custodianship of the mule that is the Army mascot."  The soldier was on his way to Pennsylvania where the Army-Navy football game was scheduled to be played on December 1 at Franklin Field.  (The New York Times explained, "When the Army team plays out of town...the regular mascot stays at home and a substitute is hired at the place where the game is played.)

McFadden had met the Wilcoxes on a previous visit to New York City.  When he arrived at the train station, they were there to meet him and took him to their apartment for a night's rest.  The visit ended up very badly.

When he awoke, McFadden realized his watch was gone.  He accused Albert Wilcox of theft and had him arrested.  Wilcox denied stealing the watch, but was held without bail on a grand larceny charge.  The New York Times reported on December 3, that McFadden, "missed the Army-Navy football game on Saturday and lost his watch as well."  Private McFadden grumbled, "I wish I had stayed with my mule."

Another resident, elevator operator Al Jenkins, found himself behind bars two years later.  He and his union members were on strike in 1936.  Just before noon on March 4, he and another striker went to the 20th floor of 135 West 26th Street to confront two strikebreakers.  Concealed under their coats  were "heavy axe-handles," as described by The New York Times.  Jenkins and James Caffrey were arrested for felonious assault.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Charles Schwartz occupied an apartment here in 1944.  He and Floyd Markowitz operated a shady business in the vacant storefront of 254 West 49th Street.  Detectives told reporters "they had been watching the store for some time, after learning that illegal liquor was being distributed somewhere in the neighborhood."  On March 3, the Police Commissioner's "confidential squad" raided the space.  The New York Times reported that they "seized fourteen cases of what they declared was bootleg whisky, with counterfeit labels and revenue stamps."  Schwartz and Markowitz were arrested, charged with "possessing untaxed liquors."

By mid-century, 332 West 51st Street was being operated as a furnished rooming house run by Mrs. Frank Davis.  Among her tenants in 1951 was 28-year-old Tillie Goldstein.  Patrons of the Radio City Music Hall in the summer of 1951 might have encountered Tillie carrying a container labeled "Give for Mt. Ebenezer Baptist Church."  On June 4, The New York Times said she had been arrested for "soliciting without a permit."  Tillie admitted she had collected "maybe $300 or $400" for the church.  The Rev. Lafayette W. Rogers, rector of Mt. Ebenezer Baptist Church, said she had donated $8.

Also living at 332 West 51st Street at the time was a celebrity of sorts, Alvin A. Kelly, known nationwide as Shipwreck Kelly.  Born on May 13, 1893 and a World War I Navy veteran, he became famous as "the redoubtable flagpole sitter and stuntman in the Roaring Twenties," as described by The New York Times.  The newspaper recalled:

His greatest feat was his stay on top of a flagpole on the Steel Pier at Atlantic City for 1,177 hours, or more than forty-nine days, in the summer of 1930.  The vogue for flagpole-sitting and goldfish-swallowing dwindled about that time, and it is believed that the record still stands.

Alvin A. "Shipwreck" Kelly as he appeared in 1939.  Associated Press, October 12, 1952

Mrs. Frank Davis told reporters that Shipwreck Kelly "suffered from an asthmatic heart and hardening of the arteries."  At 7:00 on the night of October 11, 1952, he fell onto the sidewalk "a few doors from the furnished flat at 332 West Fifty-first Street where he had been living alone on home relief," reported The New York Times.  He died on the scene, "with a scrapbook full of old newspaper clippings under his arm," said the article.

In the early 2000s, the cornice was missing.  image via google streetview.

Several residents of the rooming house continued to be on the wrong side of the law.  On December 2, 1960, Eric Larson was arrested for attempting "to extort $3,000 from James Muro, a Corona, Queens tow-truck operator," as described by The New York Times.  And in August 1966, 21-year-old Lanny Arbucci was arrested for selling "pep pills and capsules."  Charged with what was perhaps the most disturbing crime was resident Carlos Antrades.  The 33-year-old was arrested in August 1986 with promoting the prostitution of boys as young as 14 years old.

By the early 2000s, the building and its next door twin were seriously neglected.  On December 17, 2014, Manhattan Community Board Four reported complaints of "vermin infestation, lack of building services, non-working bathrooms and sporadic hot water."  Lantern Group purchased both properties for conversion to single-room-occupancy units.  

A full-gut renovation resulted in one-person apartments "available to single persons," according to 6sqft on August 23, 2017.  The article noted the building offered, "24-hour security, an on-site resident manager, community room, backyard, laundry room, and on-site social services for low-income or formerly homeless households with special needs."  Including in the renovation was the reproduction of the lost cornice.

photographs by the author