The Estey Piano Building - 97 Fifth Avenue

Around May 1, 1893 Otto L. Braumuller, president of the Braumuller Piano Company, left the four-story house at the northeast corner of Fifth Avenue and 17th Street for good.  His wife, Luetta E. Braumuller, whom he had married in August 1876, remained behind.

Perhaps even more well known than her husband, The Evening World called her "an artist of considerable reputation."  The editor of China Decorator, she had been awarded several medals at the Chicago World's Exposition where she also gave an address.  The newspaper described her as "about thirty-five years old, dresses stylishly and wears glasses.  She has sharp, clearly cut features."

Luetta held art classes in the Fifth Avenue house.  Trouble ensued after an 18-year old friend of her son, W. Earle Holcombe, signed up.  It would seem that art was not the only lessons the boy received.

Braumuller sued her for divorced, claiming she had become "too friendly" with the teen.  Proper Victorian women were no doubt shocked when they read account of the hearing in The Evening World on January 22, 1894.  Two of the witnesses were Braumiller servants, who testified "to having found Holcombe's nightclothes in Mrs. Braumuller's room."

At the time of the divorce proceedings the neighborhood around No. 97 Fifth Avenue had almost completely changed from one of private mansions to commercial buildings.  The Braumuller residence would soon become another victim.

Real estate operator Henry Corn was highly responsible for the transformation of lower Fifth Avenue.  Working most often with architect Robert Maynicke, he replaced one mansion after another with modern loft buildings.  They teamed up again for No. 97 Fifth Avenue.

Construction on the building began in 1897 and was completed the following year.   The eight-story neo-Renaissance structure was a typical Corn-Maynicke collaboration.   Clad in brick with terra cotta trim, it was stately and handsome, but not exceptional.  Decorative elements like the striking palm-backed cartouches that adorned the spandrels between each floor, were signature Maynicke touches.

The realistic palm frond decorations are typical of Robert Maynicke designs.

The neighborhood was home by now to several piano and organ firms--the Fischer Piano Company, Chickering Piano, and Decker Piano among them.  Sohmer Piano Company would soon occupy another Corn-Maynicke building at No. 170 Fifth Avenue which had risen simultaneously with No. 97.  Following the trend, the Estey & Saxe company, Vermont-based makers of pianos and organs, moved into the ground floor of No. 97 Fifth Avenue.

In May 1898, there were just two tenants.  Both Estey & Saxe and B. L. Solomon's Sons had signed 10-year leases.  B. L. Solomon's Sons dealt in "artistic furniture" and "antique coverings" (upholstery fabrics).   It offered, for instance, a "full line of railroad plushes" in its new "spacious and elegant salesrooms."

A vice-president of Estey was Levi Knight Fuller, a former governor of Vermont.  When he died not long after the firm moved into No. 97 Fifth Avenue, he left a unique collection to the firm.  On March 25, 1899 The New York Times reported "Collectors have all sorts of fads, but one of the queerest to the average man was that of the late Gov. Fuller of Vermont.  His hobby was tuning forks."

The 307-piece collection was put on exhibition in the Estey showrooms.  Included was an 18th century example by John Shore, who had invented the tuning fork in 1711; and one which had been owned by George Frideric Handel and reportedly used "when he conducted his oratorio, 'The Messiah,' in 1751."   There was also a "delicate little fork" used by opera star Adelina Patti during her 1882 American concert tour.  A standout was the two-foot long fork used to tuning the lowest notes of the keyboard.

Customers to the Estey showrooms browsed among pianos and reed organs--sometimes called "parlor organs."  About the size of an upright piano, the reed organs produced music when the operator pumped foot pedals which filled an internal bellows.   They were highly popular not only for domestic use, but for small churches.

This Estey reed organ was typical of the models displayed in the Fifth Avenue building.  copyright expired

At the turn of the century, however, the parlor organ's popularity began to wane.  So the firm turned to manufacturing pipe organs as well.  Well-known organ builder William E. Haskell was recruited from Philadelphia to head that operation.

An advertisement in The New Music Review in March 1905 touted the new instruments.  It promised that the "Estey Pipe Organ insures against cheap construction--inside and out, annoying breakdowns, continual repairs...old-fashioned ideas, slot, stiff or noisy action [and] untried experiments."

The New Music Review and Church Music Review, May 1905 (copyright expired)

By now another upholstery firm had moved into the Building.  Thomas F. Gurray was here by 1901.  When Estey moved its showrooms to No. 7 West 29th Street in 1907, the store became home to Flatau, Olesheimeer & Co., "dealers in laces and veilings."   Ramer & Lissauer, makers of "neckwear, silks, satins, linings, etc.," moved into the sixth floor around the same time.

The two firms would remain in the building for many years.  They were emblematic of the fabrics and apparel tenants that would continue to occupy it.   The other tenant in 1919, for instance, were Benedick & Bodner, makers of "reefers" (men's jackets); Liondale Shirt Company (which would be a major producer of U.S. Army uniforms shirts during World War II); and R. Goldstein & H. Israel.  One non-apparel firm at the time was Wolfson Brothers Umbrella Company, on the fourth floor.

A new tenant in 1922 was Brandon Magnus Company, makers of men's handkerchiefs.  Both Liondale Shirt Company and Ramer & Lissauer were still here.  In June 1922 Ramer & Lissauer touted its new ties, still termed "cravats" at the time.  The OxWear Cravats were "guaranteed to wear 3 months!" 

The following year the firm experienced a disturbing incident.  Public accountant Harry A. Cohen was hired to audit Ramer & Lissauer's books.  Rather astoundingly, on September 8, 1923 The New York Times reported he was "charged with the theft of $500 from Ramer & Lissauer, neckwear concern at 97 Fifth Avenue."  The amount, about $7,000 today, seems hardly worth the accountant's professional ruin.

Liondale introduced an innovation in men's shirts with its attached, matching collars.  The Washington D.C. Evening Star, March 25, 1927

In October 1943 real estate operator David W. Frankel purchased the building, assessed at the time at $95,000 (just over $1.3 million today).  In reporting on the sale The New York Times forgot about Henry Corn's 1897 purchase of the site, saying that the "Crosby and Delafield families...have owned the property for about 100 years."

Although the garment and textile districts had moved north of 34th Street by now, No. 97 continued to house related firms for years.  In 1961 two of them, Alscap, Inc. and Lopa of Italy, Ltd. were slapped with violations by the Federal Trade Commission.  Both firms represented their Italian-imported fabrics as "wool."  They were not.

The end of the line for commercial tenants came in 1977 when a conversion resulted in eight apartments on each of the upper floors.   Other than an inexplicable coat of paint that obliterates the contrast of materials, even at street level there are few noticeable alterations to Robert Maynicke's 1898 design.

photographs by the author

The 1903 Heyl & Noethen Bldg - No. 9 West 19th Street

In 1850 Livingston Satterlee constructed a three-story brick-faced home at No. 9 West 19th Street.  A mirror-image of No. 7, the 25-foot wide residence featured the elegant details expected of wealthy homeowners just steps from Fifth Avenue.

By the 1880s it was home to Theodore Houston, his wife, Charlotte, and their son, Theodore, Jr.  Houston was vice-president of the New-York, Ontario and Western Railroad.  By the time the family moved in a seamless fourth floor had been added.

By late 1887 Theodore and Charlotte had moved into the apartment house at No. 80 Madison Avenue; possibly discouraged by the gradual change of the neighborhood from residential to commercial.   Houston retained ownership of the 19th Street house, however.  The New York Times noted in January 1888, "Mr. Houston was reported to have a comfortable fortune, and owned the house 9 West Nineteenth-street."

The reason that the journalist used the past tense was explained by the first line of the article.  "Just before the close of business yesterday a painful sensation was caused upon the Street by the announcement that Theodore Houston, well known as a railroad man...had committed suicide."

During the next decade developer Henry Corn would be highly instrumental in transforming the Lower Fifth Avenue district from one of brick and brownstone mansions to modern loft buildings.  In 1902 he purchased the 19th Street house, along with the similar one directly behind, at No. 8 West 20th Street.  He had earlier purchased the property abutting the 20th Street house.  The Evening Post Record of Real Estate Sales announced "He will erect a twelve-story loft building on the entire plot."

Something derailed Corn's plans and the proposed L-shaped structure never came to pass.  Instead he entered negotiations with restaurant operators Charles J. S. Heyl and Joseph Noethen to erect a five-story loft building that included a two-story restaurant at street level.

On April 4, 1903 The Real Estate Record & Guide reported that Heyl & Noethen had leased "the entire building to be erected at 9 West 19th st."  The lease for "a term of years" totaled $50,000 (or about $1.5 million today).

Henry Corn commissioned architect Robert Maynicke, who was already responsible for several of the developer's projects, to design the structure.   Completed in 1904 the neo-Renaissance structure was faced in gray-buff brick and terra cotta.  Maynicke had reserved the ornamental interest to the restaurant section, framing it in terra cotta garlands that trailed from an elaborate central cartouche.  A projecting shop window was flanked by two entrances--one to the upper floors and the other to the restaurant. Diners on the second floor could gaze out the four handsome sets of French windows.

Decoration of the upper floors was limited mainly to the scrolled terra cotta keystones and the rather ornate cast metal cornice.

Included in the stipulations of Heyl & Noethen were living quarters for at least one of the families.  Soon after moving in the Heyl family would suffer a devastating tragedy.  Dora Heyl joined the cheery group which boarded the steamboat General Slocum on the morning of June 15, 1904 headed to a picnic upriver.  Members of St. Mark's Evangelical Lutheran Church, the German group was composed mostly of women and children (it being a Wednesday and a workday).

Fire erupted on board and, in the worst loss of life in New York until the September 11, 2001 murders, the General Slocum rapidly burned to the waterline, killing an estimated 1,021.  Among the bodies identified was that of 18-year old Dora Heyl.

In 1906 Henry Corn sold the building to Stern Brothers, whose massive department store sat on West 23rd Street.  Heyl and Noethen still held the lease, subletting space on the upper floors to clothing manufacturers like Lion Infants Wear Co., on the fourth floor, and F. Hisch Co., makers of "cloaks and suits." 

In June 1911, with bankruptcy on the horizon, Heyl & Noethen took out a mortgage on their "restaurant, wine and liquor business" from another German restaurateur, the well-known August Luchow.    The influx of cash postponed the failure until April 1912.  Luchow was now legally justified in liquidating their fixtures and stock to repay his mortgage.  Instead, he magnanimously instructed the courts that the Heyl & Noethen remain in "quiet and peaceable possession...and free enjoyment of same."

At the time brothers Charles and John Seigel had lunch here every day.  They were partners in the Star Piece Dyeing and Finishing Corporation at block away at No. 139 West 19th Street.  Expected regulars every lunchtime, the men continued their routine for 20 years.  Then on April 7, 1932 40-year old Charles was found dead in the stairway of the restaurant.  He had swallowed poison.  No one could imagine the motive for his suicide.

The tragedy did not end with Charles's death.  Two years later, on April 8, 1934, The New York Times wrote that "Ever since Charles Siegel...committed suicide two years ago yesterday, his brother, John Siegel, 40 years old, who was secretary of the concern, had missed him."

John was unable to return to the restaurant where he and his brother had shared their daily lunches for two years. Then, as The Times reported, "Yesterday, the second anniversary of his brother's death, and within an hour of the time, John Siegel went to the restaurant and ate a large meal.   Then he walked out toward the street.  Taking a bottle of poison from his pocket, he drank a fatal dose."

By mid-century the garment district had moved north of 34th Street.  The former restaurant was the bookstore, Veterans Historical Book Service, by 1951.  The books dealt with military history, like the Pictorial History of the Korean War which sold for $4 that year.  The proceeds went to the rehabilitation funds for the National Veterans of Foreign Wars.

Upstairs was the Haberstroh Film Studio, Inc., headed by Alex Haberstrom.  He produced education films and was a science fiction special effects expert.   In the 1950s he pioneered low-budget space films and the popular Captain Video television series.  The Times noted in December 1973 that "In 1962, excerpts of his 'First Men Into Space' simulated for many TV viewers, the earth-orbiting space voyage of John Glenn, the astronaut.  Among Mr. Haberstroh's other films were 'Trip to the Planets' and 'Space Probes,' produced in cooperation with Encylopaedia Britannica Films, Inc."

The tradition of a bookstore in the former restaurant space was continued in August 1995 when Revolution Books moved in.  The not-for-profit store specialized in Communist and "leftist literature."  It remained here until about 2011.

Communist books gave way to decidedly capitalist enterprise when the store became home to Rafael Interiors (later Rafael Upholstery), specializing in "antique restoration, leather work, wall upholstery and custom built furniture."

In the meantime, Robert Maynicke's handsome building perseveres relatively intact.   Although the ground floor entrances have been replaced, the projecting 1904 show window (albeit with new plate glass) survives, as do the striking French windows of the restaurant's second floor.

photographs by the author

Toys, Women's Votes and Card Cheating -- Nos. 303-305 Fifth Avenue

On July 11, 1909 the New-York Tribune noted “There has been considerable activity this year the central Fifth avenue district, which forms the highest class retail shopping zone within the borders of the greater city.”  Among the deals the article mentioned was the northeast corner of Fifth Avenue and 31^st Street—Nos. 303 and 305—to “a new syndicate which will improve the site with a twenty story mercantile structure.”

At the time of the transaction The New York Times reported “The land…figures in the deal at about $1,250,000, and the whole project will involve in the neighborhood of $2,500,000.”  The identity of the new owner, Henry Corn, was kept secret for months.  The prolific developer was already highly responsible for the changing face of Fifth Avenue from a residential to commercial district.

Corn routinely used the talents of architects Maynicke & Franke for his tall loft buildings.  But, possibly because that firm was currently working on several other projects for Corn, he chose Buchman & Fox for Nos. 303-305 Fifth Avenue.   In fact, it made little difference.  The building, completed in 1910, followed the typical pattern of high-rise buildings—a three-story rusticated base embracing cast iron shop fronts and upper windows; a scantly-decorated central portion; and a lavish upper section of, in this case, arched openings, carvings, and an elaborate copper cornice.  It was remarkably similar to the Rock Building, on the northern corner of the block, recently completed by Maynicke & Franke for Henry Corn.

The building filled with a variety of tenants.  Maison Edouard called itself “The Exclusive Fifth Avenue Mail-Order House.”  Through its catalogues women across the country could choose among waists, skirts, dresses, suits, and furs.  The term “exclusive” was well chosen.  In 1911 a mail-order suit could cost the shopper up to $42.75—a price tag of $1,100 in 2016 terms.

Another of the initial tenants was Rosenberg Brothers, importers of dresses and millinery goods.  The brothers were in hot water with the Government when they were found guilty for duty fraud in July 1911.   When Hugo Rosenberg was given a fine of $25,000, the United States District Attorney made “a strong and earnest plea for a jail sentence,” according to The Evening World.  But Judge Archibald said his hands were tied, since a few days earlier he had imposed the same judgment on Hugo’s brother and he “must be consistent.”

With several garment manufacturing firms moving in, Nos. 303-305 Fifth Avenue drew the attention of the Joint Board of Sanitary Control.  In 1911 it issued a formal complaint with the City.  Director Dr. George M. Price explained “This is a building twenty stories high not of fire proof construction, with absolutely no fire escapes, and one of its stairways a winding one.  There are three floors occupied by garment-making shops.” 

But, despite the horrific tragedy of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory that same year, the Board’s reports went unanswered.  Three years later, Price told The New York Times “We have entered our complaint, based upon a careful inspection, again and again, and the Fire Department has not lifted a finger.”

In the meantime, the building’s most high-profile tenant was F. A. O. Schwartz which took the retail space.  Founded by German immigrant Frederick August Otto in 1862, the toy retailer moved here from its long-time store on Union Square.  By now the company touted itself as “The largest and most complete Toy Store in the U.S.”

The F.A.O. Schwartz 1911 catalogue cover featured the new building.  (copyright expired)

Among the garment shops in the upper floors was Julius Stern & Co., “women’s costumers.”  When one wealthy patroness purchased two gowns in February 1912, the firm sent 17-year old Philip Rosenberg to her Park Avenue address with the packages.  Rosenberg was employed as a messenger boy by the American District Telegraph.

Rosenberg took the Lexington Avenue street car to 38^th Street; then headed towards Park Avenue.  It was about 7:00 and dark, and the street lamp on Lexington between 37^th and 38^th Streets was out.  Half way up the block the teen was pounced upon by three men.  The New York Times reported “One of them caught his throat, another batted his face and head with his fists, and the third man wrested the two parcels from his hands.”  When he walked into the East 35^th Street police station he was crying, “his face and head bruised.”

The robbers had made off with the gowns valued at a total of $6,000 in today’s dollars.

In 1913 real estate men may have been shocked to read that the Guaranty Trust Company had begun foreclosure proceedings against “another property with which Henry Corn’s name has been associated,” according to the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide.  Corn’s company, the Fifth Avenue Investing & Improvement Company owed $1.45 million on the property.

A syndicate headed by Campbell Carrington purchased the building for $2.1 million.  It quickly traded the property the following year to British physician William A. Bell’s Philips Manor Company for the recently-built community in Westchester, New York.

  

Electrolytic Art Metal Co. combined cut glass with sterling silver mounts.  Dry Goods Economist, April 19, 1913 (copyright expired)

At the time of the swap, there was a broad variety of tenants in the building.  Among them were the Electrolytic Art Metal Company, which made glass-and-silver table ware; the Clinger Belt Company; and the somewhat surprising Wilson Distilling Company.   Wilson, whose distillery was in Baltimore, produced “Wilson” whiskey, “El-Bart” dry gin, and “El-Bart” orange bitters.  The liquor dealers would remain in the building until Prohibition put an end to their business.

Wilson ensured that cheaper liquors would not be pawned off as theirs.  The Evening World May 28, 1914 (copyright expired)

On March 24, 1914 the 20^th floor became home to the New York State Woman Suffrage Association.  The National Suffrage Association was already here.  The New York Times noted as the group moved in, “One building with an anti-suffrage owner refused to lease to the suffragists.”

Earlier that year a meeting had been held in the building regarding “the evils of the fur trade.”  The topic was far different than 21^st century readers would expect.  The offices of the Associated Fur Manufacturers were the scene of the debate.  “The crying evil in the local fur industry,” it was said, “was the ease with which credit can be obtained” by small manufacturers.  The seasonal business then caused many of those firms to fail.

With war raging in Europe, the American Defense Society opened its national publicity headquarters in the building on August 4, 1915.  The group announced that is was "the announced enemy of those peace organizations who urge disarmament, and so by their program of non-resistance invite an invasion of American rights an American territory.  It is also the announced enemy of all those politicians, either in office or out of office, who put self and party above the protection of the men, women and children of America.”

And the Suffrage Party remained here until women finally earned the right to vote in 1919.  The group’s full-page advertisements over the years appealed to male emotions and simple logic.  One, in November 1917, began “When you go to the polls next Tuesday, think about just three women—your mother, your wife and your daughter.”  The ad went on to remind men that when they had had a serious decision in their lives, “your first job, or about your troubles at the office, or a new opportunity in business,” they went to their mothers for advice.

And if they relied on those women for sage advice in those instances, “Wouldn’t you trust her to make a sound decision on anything that affects your lives?”

Other tenants at the time included the Manhattan Press Clipping Bureau, the Harper Oriphone Co., which made “instruments for the deaf,” and the Bijou Dress Company, run by the Krohnberg brothers.  A few years later Louis Krohnberg’s love of card playing would land him in the courts.

On December 16, 1920 The New York Herald reported “Because of his uncanny habit in winning at stud poker on the last card turned, Krohnberg became known as ‘Last Card Louis.”  The dress maker’s luck ran out when he attended a card party at the home of motion picture producer Joseph M. Schenck, husband of screen star Norma Talmadge.   Also playing that night was Lewis J. Selznick, whose son, David O. Selznick would make Hollywood history.

The game broke up when one player accused Krohnberg of cheating by using a marked deck.  The New York Herald said “Krohnberg is said to have been beaten up and ejected.”  That would have been the end of it had not one of the players had him arrested, charged with cheating.  The case drew the attention of the City of New York which investigated the lucky man’s winnings.

A law on the City books penalized gamblers “five times the value of the money won at a poker game or other game of chance.”  The income from the fines would be then turned over to the Overseer of the Poor.  Unfortunately for Krohnberg, his winnings from June 1, 1919 to January 1, 1920 were alleged to total $66,300.  Now the City sued him for $331,500.

Nos. 303-305 Fifth Avenue continued to be home to a variety of tenants.  The Barnes Coal Company’s executive offices were here in 1922; as was the Lisner & Co. importing jewelers (their $2,600 payroll was stolen from an employee in the stairway on December 31, 1921); while the Futurist Company was manufacturing undergarments made of “shimmering silks from the looms of the Orient” as well as knickers for little boys.

The Brett Mfg Co. offered Kurley Kew Hair Wavers to flappers.  The Evening World August 4, 1922 (copyright expired)

Fred Baggs operated his Baggs Glove Company here in the early 1920s.  But he was better known as a tennis player and “clubman.”  His free-wheeling lifestyle got him into hot water with his wife.  She charged him with “misconduct with an unidentified woman” in July 1924.  The sole owner of his company, he claimed his gross income was $40,000 per year—a satisfying $555,000 today.  Cheating on Mary Davidson Baggs cost the tennis player $50 a week in alimony.

A blow to the owners of Nos. 303-305 Fifth Avenue came in October 1930 when its signature tenant, F. A. Schwartz announced it would be moving to the new Squibb Building on Fifth Avenue and 58^th Street.  It was evidence that the upscale shopping district had migrated north.

In the 1930s the building became the headquarters of the Arab National League.  Among the goals of the organization was the “return of Palestine land to the Arabs.”

Lisner & Co., the jewelry firm robbed in 1921 was still here in the 1940s.  By now more and more costume jewelers were replacing apparel firms in the building.  Eventually it would earn the nickname The Jewelry Building.

After owning the building for nearly a century, the family of William A. Bell put it on the market in 2009.  A renovation of the lower floors and lobby was initiated that year.   Nos. 303-305 Fifth Avenue and the Rock Building stand on either end of the block like one of a pair of Henry Corn bookends by different architects; both reminders of a transitional period on Fifth Avenue.

photographs by the author
many thanks to reader Eric Stott for suggesting this post 

Maynicke & Franke's 1910 Nos. 52-62 West 21st Street

As the 19^th century became the 20^th, developers Samuel and Henry Corn were heavily responsible for the transformation of Manhattan’s residential neighborhoods south of 34^th Street into vibrant commercial zones. Working together or separately, they bought up groups of once-proud homes and replaced them with modern loft and store buildings.

In December 1899 two receptions were held in the parlor of No. 54 West 21^st Street to introduce Mary Mortimer to society.   Mary’s father, Henry Coit Mortimer, was described by one publication as a “gentleman of the old school.”  There would not be many other glittering social functions in the Mortimer house, however.

Already Sixth Avenue, just steps away, was lined with massive emporiums that earned the thoroughfare the nickname the Ladies’ Mile.  While Mortimer and one or two of his neighbors held out as long as possible, the decline of the once fashionable West 21^st Street block had already begun.

In December 1908 Henry Corn purchased Nos. 60 and 62 West 21^st Street.  In reporting the sale, the Real Estate Record and Guide pointed out “Mr. Corn recently bought…the adjoining properties Nos. 54, 56 and 58, and will erect on the entire plot a 12-sty building, 112x100.”

Three months later The New York Times interpreted the move as a signal for further development of the area.  “That there is good reason to anticipate a further increase in the demand for store and loft space in the great mercantile district south of Twenty-third Street is apparent from the fact that no less keen an observer of conditions in that section than Henry Corn is about to engage in another large undertaking there.”

The newspaper also commented on the ambitious construction schedule—less than eight months from start to completion.  “The old buildings on the plot will not be torn down until May 1, and the new structure will be ready for occupancy on Jan. 1.  In view of some other recent records, this is not a remarkable achievement, but it is another illustration o the fact that with modern methods one of these huge structures may be put up almost as rapidly as the average dwelling.”

The office of Maynicke & Franke released the above rendering in March 1908.  (copyright expired)

Corn regularly chose from among three esteemed architects—Alfred Zucker, Robert Maynicke and Louis Korn.  For this latest project he turned again to Robert Maynicke.   The firm of Maynicke & Franke designed the neo-Renaissance style structure with a sparsely-ornamented limestone base three stories tall.  Vast Chicago-style windows--a Midwestern innovation--admitted a flood of sunlight into the second and third floors.

The seven-story midsection was clad in beige brick, ornamented by a foliate-carved bandcourse with rigid pendants, stone medallions and diapered brickwork.  The topmost two stories were again clad in limestone.  Here was the building’s most eye-catching feature—six stocky cartouches in the form of shields carved with American stars and stripes.

Herringbone-laid brick, a stylized Greek key, a stone band like a foliate fasces, were among the decorative elements.

Six months into construction Lewis, Hurwitz & Co. leased “for a long term of years,” the entire second floor—11,000 square feet.  The Real Estate Record and Guide pointed out that on October 23, 1909, that the entire building was now leased.

One month after the building opened Henry Corn moved on to other projects.  In February 1910 he traded the new structure to the American Real Estate Co. for 33 vacant lots in the Inwood section, far to the north.  The deal translated to about a half-million dollars.

The vast loft spaces initially housed garment factories.  The size of their operations is reflected in the number of workers who toiled at sewing machines and ironing boards.  In 1913 S. Bernstein & Co., makers of “cloaks and suits,” employed 75 men, 16 women, and 2 children between 14 and 16 years old; as well as four office workers.  That same year Blauner Bros. & Co. employed 152 men, 121 women and 10 office workers in the manufacture of “cloaks, suits and skirts.”

Along with other garment makers here in 1915, such as the Genet Petti Coat Company, the misses’ and children’s dress house of S. Phillips & Co., and the Levison Bros. & Nevins firm, was the newly-arrived handbag firm of Lefkowitz & Fisher.  Among the company’s offerings was the leather “Gretchen” money belt which kept a lady’s cash safe from street thieves.

Rosenschein touted they could make better garments here than "in the Ritz-Carlton."  American Cloak and Suit Review, 1916 (copyright expired)

Throughout the first decade of its existence the building continued to house mostly garment factories.  Nevertheless, a few unrelated firms moved in, like the Joseph Roth Manufacturing Company which made stuffed animals and toys here from around 1913 through 1916.  In 1917 there was a total of approximately 1,000 workers in the building.

When Lefkowitz & Fisher moved in in 1915, they advertised their women's money belt, the "Gretchen."  Dry Goods Economist, February 1915, (copyright expired)

The wholesalers of No. 54-62 West 21^st Street routinely touted the location as a selling point.  Rosenschein Bros. advertised “Our location and economy is your advantage, and Morris Millard’s slogan was “Merchandise brings them to Twenty-first street.” 

Like so many of the tenants, Morris Millard manufactured cloaks and suits here.  Among his many employees in 1921 was shipping clerk Joseph Kaplon.  His position offered the 22-year old the unusual opportunity to smuggle goods out of the building.

Little by little Kaplon pilfered garments which he sold to Jacob Herzog whose Majestic Cloak Company was a few blocks north at No. 333 Seventh Avenue.  After a year and a half, on February 3, 1923 Kaplon was caught with two dresses valued at $75 each.  In his pocket was a bank book that showed regular deposits of $100 and $200.  The amounts—upwards of $2,500 each today—could not be explained by his salary.

Joseph Kaplon was charged with grand larceny.  During his confession he identified his buyer.  Jacob Herzog was reportedly shocked and astounded.  “Herzog said Kaplon had left the suits with him to look at and he did not know they were stolen,” reported The New York Times on February 7, 1923.

At the time of Kaplon’s arrest the garment district was moving north of 34^th Street.  While some apparel firms held out—the Elk Knitting Company would stay at least until 1931—a new sort of tenant was moving into the building.

The Turbax Corporation was here by 1923.  The firm manufactured a wide range of washing machines.  That year The Electrical World reported it had “developed a washing machine, ‘Turbax,’ which can be placed in a stationary tub, wash boiler, or bathtub.”  Other firms to move in within the decade were the General Slicing Machine Co. and the Adams Grease Gun Corp. 

The building was the scene of a dangerous shoot-out on February 27, 1925.   Policemen responded to a burglar alarm that night.  Unable to gain access in the front of the building, they went to the rear and began climbing the fire escape.

When Policemen Hyman Kasten and William Quinn reached the third floor landing, they saw three men above them at the fifth and seventh floors.  As they pulled their guns, the robbers began firing at them.

“More than a score of shots were fired and in the meantime policemen from near-by posts surrounded the building,” reported The New York Times the next morning.  While cops guarded the entrances, plain clothes detectives began climbing up a second fire escape in hopes of heading off the thieves.  They soon had to duck into a window when they were mistaken for crooks by the cops under fire.

Eventually the robbers ran out of ammunition and jumped into a window where two were found in a lavatory by Kasten and Quinn.  “Underneath their overcoats they wore women’s coats and their pockets were stuffed with socks, silk scarfs and other articles.”

The robbers had apparently been in the building for an extended period.  “Examination of the building showed that rooms on the third, fifth, sixth and eleventh floors had been entered and a considerable quantity of merchandise of the cheaper variety was scattered about the corridors.”

One of the thieves escape, wounded.  The Times said he “evidently climbed up to the roof and then came down the stairway inside the building for a trail of blood showing that he had either been wounded or else cut himself on the window glass, led to the front door.”

In 1964 the first printing firm to lease in the building, Superior Tag and Label Company, took space.  Eight years later a printing company here would find itself in trouble with Federal agents.  On June 27, 1972 The New York Times reported that 10 men had been indicted in Federal District Court on charges of “counterfeiting almost a million dollars in $10 bills and 8-cent postage stamps.”  The indictment alleged that on April 22 that year $500,000 in counterfeit stamps were printed in a plant at 54 West 21^st Street.”

On March 17, 1978 an armored truck of the Armored Courier Service pulled up on front of the building making a payroll delivery to one of the companies here.  The guards entered the building with the sack of money; but were astonished when they walked out to find that the truck with its $149,000 in cash was gone.

The lone driver, Alterber Freedman, had been overpowered at around 9:30 in the morning.  Police found the empty truck a block away on 22^nd Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues.  About an hour later the driver was released unharmed in Queens.

As the Chelsea and Flatiron neighborhoods saw a rebirth in the 1980s, so did No. 54-62 West 21^st Street.   In September 1988 55-year old Gene Young opened Chelsea Billiards in the former retail space at street level.  He told reporters he wanted his 15,000 square foot parlor to “improve the image of the game.”  To do so he carpeted the floors and brought in 44 high-end Brunswick tables.

In the meantime, the former factory spaces upstairs were being taken over by a new type of tenant, as well.  By 1995 Acanthus Books was here, specializing in rare and out-of-print reference books on antiques, the decorative arts and architecture.”

In June 2000 Chelsea Billiards became Chelsea Bar and Billiards; the single word in the name change signifying a noticeable difference.  The New York Times noted it had become “the city’s first billiard parlor with an emphasis on food.”

The following year it became Slate, described by the Native’s Guide to New York as “Not just a pool hall, but a fancy Middle Eastern restaurant as well.  Most pool halls now serve beer and burgers, but this is a notch above.”

In its more than a century of existence, Maynicke & Franke’s handsome loft building escaped major alterations—even the storefronts entered by pool-playing diners appear original.   Unfortunately, rushing New Yorkers rarely, if ever, glance up to take in the patriotic stone shields below the cornice.

photographs by the author