Henry Engelbert's 1868 367 Bleecker Street

369 Bleecker Street (left) was a mirror-image of 367.  The Charles Street homes, built simultaneously, are directly behind 367, at the right.

By the mid-1860s, the Second Empire style was highly popular in America, its mansard roofs giving a decidedly French flair to Manhattan streets.  In 1867, grocer E. C. Henry Kugeler hired architect Henry Engelbert, who was currently working on the design of the Second Empire-style Grand Hotel on Broadway, to design four structures at the northeast corner of Bleecker Street and Van Nest Place (later Charles Street)--two four-story mansions on Van Nest Place and two store-and-flat buildings facing Bleecker.

Completed in 1868, the two Bleecker Street buildings were designed as mirror-images.  Despite the storefronts, the brick-faced edifices were imposing.  Their segmentally-arched openings originally wore molded brownstone lintels.  Above the cornice was a slate shingled mansard with dormers capped with elegant triangular pediments.  Both buildings were designed to house just three families above the ground floor.  (Apparently the attic level was reserved for servants or storage.)

The commercial space in 367 Bleecker Street was leased to the Cole & Fox dry goods store, run principally by Theodore Fox who lived on West 30th Street.  Among the original residents upstairs were James Bousinger, an importer, and his family; and the Springsteen family.

Henry Springsteen held a relatively new job, a professional firefighter.  Prior to 1865, fires were fought by volunteer companies throughout the city.  When a bill was introduced in the State Senate to abolish those companies and establish the Metropolitan Fire Department in January that year, The New York Times commented that it "has created a great excitement in fire circles, and among the better class of firemen it is not very favorably received."

But by the time the Springsteens moved into 367 Bleecker Street, the uproar had settled.  Henry worked at Engine Company No. 19.  George H. Springsteen, on the other hand, had a more white collar job, working as a clerk.

On October 8, 1871, a conflagration broke out in Chicago.  Dry and windy conditions resulted in a two-day inferno that would be known as the Great Chicago Fire.  The nation reacted with an outpouring of aid.  The disaster caused another to be greatly overlooked.  Calling it "The Great Northwestern Fire," on October 21, New York Herald reported, "The needs of the sufferers by Wisconsin fires are very great; thousands are utterly destitute and must be assisted for many months."  The article noted, "Mr. Fisher, of the Anchor Life Insurance Company, yesterday forwarded one bundle of clothing from Coles & Fox, 367 Bleecker Street."

Unlike some dry goods stores that offered women only the raw goods to create their clothing, Cole & Fox also produced apparel.  On December 16, 1872, it placed an advertisement in the New York Herald that read (rather sternly): "Dressmaker wanted; come prepared to work."

In 1876, George H. Springsteen changed his profession to "printer."  Simultaneously, he established the Chatham, Jordan & Springsteen printing company with two locations--29 Charles Street and 367 Bleecker, supplanting Cole & Fox here.  

Unfortunately, George Springsteen's venture did not work out.  The following year, Chatham, Jordan & Springsteen disappeared from city directories, and E. C. Henry Kugeler, who still owned the four buildings, moved in his grocery.  (It was located at 386 Bleecker Street when he erected the buildings.)  The Springsteen family left Bleecker Street that year, as well, moving to 90 Bank Street.

Now occupying the upper floors were Daniel A. Anderson, an agent who worked on Pier 49 on the Hudson River; Ira S. Otis, a clerk; and cabinetmaker John Lorenz.  Otis and his family would remain here at least through 1886.

J. H. Goetchius leased 367 and 369 Bleecker street in 1891 and made "interior alterations," as described by the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide on September 26.  Whatever the remodeling was, it was minimal, costing Goetchius the equivalent of only $7,000 in 2026.

An interesting resident here during the first years of the 20th century was Amos L. See, a widow.  Born in Westchester County in 1837, his family moved to "old Greenwich Village," as worded by The New York Times, in 1856.  He served in the Civil War as a captain with Company H, 71st Regiment.  (His two sons fought in the same company during the Spanish American War.)  Following the Civil War, See went into the  business of manufacturing hardware.

In 1903, See retired.  He suffered a fatal stroke in his apartment here on March 14, 1906.  The New York Times said, "He was an enthusiastic fisherman, and he spent the last three years of his life fishing a little and talking and reading about it more."  

E. C. Henry Kugeler died around 1909 and the two Bleecker Street buildings and the house that was still numbered 18 Van Nest Place were inherited by his daughters, Matilda C. Kugeler and Anna L. Zellweger.  They sold the three properties at auction on March 15, 1910.

At the time, the residents of 367 Bleecker Street were less professional.  Living here at the time was the family of John Walsh, who drove a wagon for an express company.  That summer, the teamsters went on strike.  Labor disputes in the first decades of the century were often violent and even deadly.  On October 31, 1910, the New-York Tribune reported, "In expectation of trouble to-day Chief Monahan ordered the police to shoot any one seen inciting to riot and who ran when ordered by the police to submit to arrest."  The extreme orders were, in part, a result of the rioting that occurred the previous day.  During that affray, said the newspaper, "John Walsh, a driver, of No. 367 Bleecker street, was locked up on a charge of assaulting Patrolman M. J. Hogan."

The Walsh family was still here when war broke out in Europe.  On October 1, 1918, William J. Walsh's name appeared on the list of soldiers wounded in battle.

In the post-war years, Peter H. Rieper ran the grocery store.  Following the enactment of Prohibition, he started selling more than celery and eggs.  On February 19, 1920, the New-York Tribune reported, "In a grocery at 367 Bleecker Street, Revenue Agents Loftus and Jacobs found thirteen bottles of wine and a quantity of gin."  Rieper was jailed.

A grocery still occupied the ground floor in 1941.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In 1967, Pierre Moulin and Pierre LeVec created a French Provicial antiques shop, Pierre Deux (The Two Pierres), here.  The shop branched out, importing fabrics from the south of France.  The New York Times would later report, "Before long, there were 22 Pierre Deux shops around the world."

The partners gave the building an even more Parisian flavor by  installing French windows throughout.  Shopping at Pierre Deux could be costly.  New York Magazine said, "this crowded West Village antiques shop has two floors of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century French Country, as well as twentieth-century--tables, chairs, commodes, beds, and more.  Armoires start at $8,000, farm tables at $5,000."  

In 1989, Moulin and LeVec retired, selling all of the shops except 367 Bleecker Street.  LeVec died in 1998 and Moulin the following year.  

Pierre Deux closed in 2011 and in 2013 Burberry Brit moved into the space.  In reporting the opening, Retail Market Study 2013 remarked, "The budding fashion district that is 367 Bleecker Street in Manhattan's Greenwich Village has a new destination.  In October, Burberry opened their latest Burberry Brit store."

Despite the loss of the molded lintels, 367 Bleecker Street is still a commanding presence on the corner.

photographs by the author

Henry Englebert's 1868 Marble Fronted 408-410 Broadway

Elias S. Higgins was a carpet merchant, the principal in E. S. Higgins & Company.  But as construction in New York resumed following the end of the Civil War and the Tribeca district began its transformation from a residential to commercial neighborhood, he turned to real estate development as well.

Between 1866 and 1869 he would work with architect Henry Englebert on at least three projects.  The earliest of these replaced the old Apollo Hotel with its well-known Apollo Rooms where banquets and balls were held as early as 1844, along with the commercial building next door (408 Broadway) which had recently been home to Wm. S. Vanderbilt & Bros., merchant tailors.

Ground was broken in 1866 and construction was completed two years later.  Engelbert had created two identical Italianate style structures.   Above the cast iron storefronts rose four stories of gleaming white marble, arranged in two sections divided by an intermediate cornice.  Rusticated piers framed each building.  Both of the two upper sections held two-story arches separated by Corinthian pilasters on paneled pedestals.  The arches of the middle section were segmental, while those of the upper section were fully rounded.

Among the initial tenants was was Calhoun, Robbins & Co., importers of "fancy dry goods and small wares."  The firm had been organized in 1858.  It had barely moved in when the gold panic known as Black Friday took place on September 24, 1869.  Caused by a conspiracy between Jay Gould and James Fisk to corner the gold market, it caused gold prices to plummet and an economic depression was narrowly averted by the actions of President Ulysses S. Grant.  The effects of Black Friday trickled down to merchants like Calhoun, Robbins & Co.

New-York Tribune, March 9, 1870 (copyright expired)

Another fancy goods dealer in the building by 1872 was Isaac F. Stillitz, whose showrooms were on the third floor.  On the afternoon of March 25 that year, three men entered the building and hid in the hallway water closet.  They remained there until the employees had left, then broke into the Stillitz showroom.  The New York Times reported they "stole ten dozen of pocket-knives, valued at $85, and some articles of small value."  (The knives would be worth about $1,840 today.)

Isaac F. Stillitz turns out to have been relatively lucky in his loss.  The men escaped by forcing open the scuttle (or hatchway) to the roof, then traveling over the rooftops until forcing open another scuttle at No. 404 Broadway.  In that building they broke into two safes and removed a large quantity of jewelry valued at more than $25,600 today.  They broke open the street door to escape.

The trio went separate directions.  The box containing the jewelry was entrusted to one man and Stillitz's goods to another.  At around daylight Patrolman Mitchell was suspicious of the box he saw a man carrying up Broadway near Spring Street, and asked him what was inside.  Told that it was clothing, he asked to see inside.  The man then threw the box to the ground and ran.  Mitchell instructed a private security guard to watch the box while he pursued the burglar.

When the crook realized the cop was gaining on him, he turned and pointed a weapon, threatening to shoot.  (It turned out that the pistol was, in fact, a large door key.)  "The policeman, who had drawn his revolver, informed the desperado that unless he surrendered at once he would blow his brains out."  The culprit chose to retain his brains and was arrested.

The early 1880's was an unsettling time for wealthy capitalists as economic anarchists targeted banks and millionaires with bombs and death threats.   In the spring of 1882 two wealthy New Yorkers, William H. Vanderbilt and Cyrus W. Field, received mail bombs which, thankfully, did not detonate.  Professor R. Ogden Doremus examined the boxes and reported "The gun cotton in the infernal machines...was powerful enough to kill two men."

Postal investigators sought out experts to examine the components in an effort to track down the terrorists.  They brought one of the boxes to Calhoun, Robbins & Co. to possibly identify the box and covers.  The Sun reported "Several members of the firm gathered...examined the box critically.  They said that the 'T-137' was a German mark, and that the 157-8c. was a private mark of some retail house in this city."  They then sent for a young man from the packing room.  His knowledge of boxes was prodigious. 

"The young man picked up the box, turned it around and over, glanced at the picture of the peasant girl, slammed the box down on the table, pulled out a well-worn note book from his hip pocked, and yelled promptly, 'In America.'"

Asked who made it, he thumbed through the book again and advised "Go to J. F. Hitchcock, 72 Duane street."  He then went back to his packing room.  His tip gave investigators the first clue that resulted in a chain of valuable information.

Business owners had to be constantly on guard against swindlers and cheats, not only from the street by from within their companies.  Tenants H. M. Richards & Co. and Browning, King & Co. would both be victims.

Browning, King & Co. were clothiers whose superintendent of the packing department, John Masterson, was a trusted employee.  But he was arrested in June 1883 after it was discovered that he and an accomplice, John Ford, had swindled the firm out of $20,000--a significant $527,000 in today's money.

Jewelers H. M. Richards & Co. were the victim of slick con artists the following year.  Matthew Webb, Jr. and Henry Rice, 23 and 25-years old respectively, set up a jewelry firm (in name only) and hired a 16-year old messenger boy, Alfred Wieck, as their unwitting accomplice.  Webb and Rice constantly renamed their business and moved around, making tracing them difficult.

Weick was paid $6 a week, which was enough for him not to ask questions.  He was sent to jewelry firms with printed order forms from the fake company.  Rather astonishingly, jewelers, including H. M. Richards & Co., fell for the ruse and turned over small amounts of jewelry.  The orders amounted most often to about $45--around $1,180 today--enough to keep the crooks in business but not enough to arouse suspicion.

The scam worked until late July 1884 when Weick brought an order to Thomas W. McAdams.  The letterhead read Conkling, Frye & Lewis, which was not listed in the city directory.  The clerk, Philo Scofield, suspected he was being hustled and packed up a wad of cotton in a package and then followed Weick.  The teen went to another jewelry store where he was given eight lace pins and five pairs of earrings.

The New York Times reported "Mr. Scofield had by this time secured Detective McCabe...and the two followed the boy until he joined Matthew Webb, Jr."  Both were arrested and on the way to the station house Weick pointed out Rice on the street.  Alfred Weick was let go, but Rice and Webb were held on multiple charges of swindling.  H. M. Richards & Co. suffered a loss of about $1,700 in today's dollars.

In 1887 Nevius & Haviland moved in.  The American Stationer reported on February 3 that year "Nevins & Haviland, the well-known manufacturers of wall-papers and dealers in all sorts of odd things for wall decorations, have removed to 408 Broadway, where, with increased facilities and better accommodations, they expect to serve their patrons even better than in the past.

The American Stationery, February 3, 1887 (copyright expired)

Nevius & Haviland's factory was at the corner of Tenth Avenue and 42nd Street.  The block contained similar industrial buildings, all of which were stocked with "paper, chemicals and inflammable materials," according to The World.  In the pre-dawn hours of October 19, 1893 a fire broke out which spread from one building to another until the entire block was engulfed.

The World reported "A crowd of at least fifteen thousand people was congregated this morning...gazing wonderingly at the blackened ruins of one of the largest, most destructive and costliest fires that New York has suffered in over a decade."  Nevius & Haviland estimated its damage at $150,000--nearly $4.5 million today.

Calhoun, Robbins & Co. suffered a tragedy on August 29, 1906.  There were no safety regulations for elevators at the time and shafts were often unguarded by gates or doors.  Among Calhoun, Robbins & Co.'s employees was the messenger boy George Swenson.  That day he fell down the shaft.  The New-York Tribune reported "Although he fell two stories and was severely injured, the surgeons at the Hudson Street Hospital believe that he will recover."

New-York Tribune, September 25, 1909 (copyright expired)

On October 21, 1913 the New-York Tribune reported "Calhoun, Robbins & Co., dealers in notions etc., and for half a century located at Broadway and Canal street, have arranged to occupy the old Lord and Taylor store at Broadway and 19th street in 1915, when the present lease expires...The lease involves the property at No. 895 and 899 Broadway."

The building continued to house dry goods dealers for years.  In 1921 silk manufacturer Max Hyman was here.  His premises were robbed of $6,000 worth of silks on the morning of August 6.  Somewhat shockingly, in pressing charges he identified three other silk dealers--Abner Friedman, Abraham Schwartzbart, and Isadore Weingartner--as the thieves.  The men were foiled when Abner Friedman offered to sell a portion of the stolen silk to another dealer.  He was unaware that the businessman was a relative of Max Hyman.

In 1950 the building received a renovation.  It resulted in salesrooms on the first and second floors, and light manufacturing space above.  In the mid-1990's the store at No. 410 was home to Ad Hoc Softwares where decorative and useful items for the home like perfume decanters could be purchased.

Another renovation completed in 2008 accommodated a trade school on the second and third floors and offices on the top two floors.  It became home to Spin Magazine by 2009.

Although the Corinthian capitals of the cast iron storefront have been lost, overall the marble fronted building looks much as it did when it opened in 1869, just four years after the end of the Civil War.

photographs by the author

The Sullivan, Randolph & Budd Bldg - 80-82 White Street

Carpet dealer Elias S. Higgins plunged full force into the flurry of new construction that swept New York City after the Civil War.   In 1867 he began work on the Grand Hotel on Broadway at 31st Street, designed by Henry Engelbert.   The architect would design the even larger, more impressive Broadway Central Hotel for Higgins in 1871.

It was not a hotel that the two men worked together on in 1867 at Nos. 80-82 White Street, but an elegant loft and store building.   Faced in white marble above a cast iron storefront, the six-story building was completed in 1868.   The Italianate-style facade would have been typical of the scores of buildings going up in the district were it not for Englebert's neo-Grec detailing.  The architectural style had only just begun appearing in America and the elements--like the stylized capitals of the pilasters--took the design to the cutting edge.

By March 1868 the new building had became home to Sullivan, Randolph & Budd, importers of "woolens and goods for men's wear."  At the time it claimed to be the oldest textile house in the United States.  Founded around 1834 as Wilson G. Hunt & Co., the name was changed in 1864 when long-time employees Naham Sullivan, Peter F. Randolph and William A. Budd took over.

The firm had barely moved in when the 1868 guide History of New York City; From the Discovery to the Present Day described the "handsome marble structure."  "The building...is six stories high, with a splendid lofty basement, fitted up in the most complete and admirable manner.  A powerful steam-dummy performs the work of hoisting and lowering from basement to roof."

The firm's offices were on the first floor ("very tastefully arranged") as well as the sales room.  "The other principal floors are devoted to a complete stock of foreign and domestic fabrics, together with a full assortment of trimmings, etc., while in the top floor is stowed a large surplus."

Not mentioned in the article was Meinhard Bros. & Co., wholesale clothing merchants.  Based in Georgia, the company sub-leased an office in the White Street building.

from the Historical Record of the City of Savannah, 1869 (copyright expired)

Sullivan, Randolph & Budd was well-known for its durable uniform fabrics.  The firm supplied goods to West Point and other military schools, as well as the city's Municipal Police Department and other police organizations throughout the country.

But behind the scenes, there seems to have been discord among the management.  Shortly after taking over No. 80-82 White Street, the firm was changed to Sullivan, Budd & Co., then in 1871 to N. Sullivan & Co.  One by one Naham Sullivan's partners had dropped out.

After Sullivan & Co. moved to No. 329 Broadway around 1873 the White Street building became home to several smaller firms.  One of them, possibly Meinhard Bros., did not identify itself in an advertisement that appeared in The New York Herald on October 26 that year.  The wholesaler was offering excess stock to individual, private customers off the street:

Clothing at Your Own Use at wholesale prices, at 80 and 82 White street, up stairs, first building east of Broadway.  You can buy for the next 60 days, from our large and beautiful stock of Clothing, single Garments for your own use, and save you from 25 to 50 per cent.  Fashionable styles, equal to custom work.

An interesting tenant by 1875 was the Bureau of Indian Affairs.  The White Street office was in charge of filling the annual supply list necessary for the Indian missions and reservations throughout the West.  On April 28, 1875 The New York Herald reported "Commissioner Edward P. Smith, of the Indian Department, held his annual reception yesterday, at No. 82 White street.  It was largely attended, and the visitors walked up and down and stood in groups discussing the prospects of the coming season, while the Commissioner read out the bids on which they proposed to supply the wants of 'Poor Lo.'" (Poor Lo! was the term commonly used for the group of missions.)

There were approximately 300 bidders whom the article identified as mostly from the West and "were nearly entirely composed of Indian contractors."  The men placed bids for contracts on everything from shoes and blankets to beef.

Also in the building at the time was dry goods merchant Charles M. Aikman & Co.  The firm was the target of inveterate thieves George Callahan, alias "the Countryman," and Charles Murphy, alias "Cheek," on the night of April 24, 1876.  The men were members of a gang of burglars wanted for a string break ins.  This time, however, they were spotted when they rushed down Courtlandt Alley with $500 worth of lace curtains and piano covers from Charles M. Aikman & Co.

The eyewitness account helped lead to the arrest of the pair along with their cohorts, John David, John Roche, alias "Casino," and James Stapleton, alias "Buck."  For the White Street burglary, Callahan and Murphy were held on $2,000 bail each--more than $47,000 today.

On February 19, 1880 a massive fire consumed the building at Nos. 384 and 386 Broadway, at the corner of White Street.  As the inferno spread to No. 388 firemen broke into No. 80-82 White Street and directed hoses "from the roof and windows," according to The New York Times.  Two fire fighters died fighting the blaze and the Broadway buildings were destroyed.

Even the gap provided by Courtlandt Alley could not prevent damage to the White Street structure.  The following month The Record & Guide reported that Higgins had hired architect William H. Holmes to repair the fire damage.

In the mid-1880's Wm. Topping & Co. operated its auction house from the address.  The firm sold off over-stocked goods or the residue from bankrupt firms, as well as real estate parcels.

A notable tenant in the 1890's was the carpet retailer Morris & McKay.   Its extensive line included not only carpeting, but "oil cloths, rags, mats, etc."  Mostly forgotten today, decorative oil cloth mats mimicked rugs and were placed beneath tables for easy clean-up and to protect expensive carpeting.

The Evening World, October 13, 1894 (copyright expired)

In July 1900 Eugene Higgins hired architect William H. Birkmire to update the aging structure.  New plumbing was installed, and "general alterations" done.  The upgrades cost the equivalent of more than $450,000 today.

They were enough to lure an important tenant by 1903, the Rhode Island-based Clark O. N. Thread company.  The quality maker constantly battled counterfeiters, as was reported on April 30, 1904 in The Sun.  The article noted "Last winter persons in the trade brought to the Clark offices at 82 White street reports that the Clark thread was being sold in the West in large quantities at prices very much below the market quotations.  An investigation showed that the Clark trade mark stamp had been counterfeited."

The following year Spool Cotton moved in, taking over the New York City operation for Clark O. N. T. Thread.  The company would remain here for several years representing Clark.

In 1911 it participated in a educational project in high schools nationwide.  The Annual Report of the Minnesota State High School Board that year explained "Not a few schools are acquiring illustrative material for their industrial department" and provided a list "of educational exhibits, which may be obtained free of charge by making courteous application to the addresses given below."  Included was Spool Cotton, which offered examples of "spool cotton and needles."

A major change came in 1913 when Jenkins Bros. leased the entire building.   Makers of plumbing valves, the firm was nationally recognized.  Their main plant was located in Bridgeport, Connecticut.

The House Beautiful, October 1920 (copyright expired)

The dependability and quality of the Jenkins projects was best evidenced when the firm was contracted to produce the valves for United States naval ships during World War II.  Following a worker walk-out in 1944, an Executive Order from the White House directed "that all employees were instructed to report for work immediately."

Wartime ads differed greatly from the domestic setting of 20 years earlier.  This one may have had a message to the plant's employees as well.

The Government went a step further.   On April 13 that year an order from the War Department read "Sec. of the Navy authorized to take possession of and operate the plants and facilities of Jenkins Bros, Inc."

Following the war Jenkins Bros. returned to business as usual.  In the spring of 1949, after more than three decades at No. 80-82 White Street, it signed a lease in the new building at No. 100 Park Avenue.  On May 18 The New York Times announced that the White Street building "was sold by the heirs of Eugene Higgins."  The buyer, it said, "plans to occupy the building when it is vacated by Jenkins Bros."

For decades the General Hardware Manufacturing Company occupied the building.  By 1992 the Tribeca renaissance had reached White Street and Art In General, a non-profit exhibition space, leased space in the building.

A substantial renovation and restoration began in 2016 to transform No. 80-82 White Street to retail space, offices, and an apartment.   Still owned by General Hardware, now General Tools, the firm announced it was vacating the premises.  It had commissioned the firm FSI Architecture to do the work.

In May 2017 Artists Space, a non-profit gallery, announced it would be moving to the renovated building.

photographs by the author

The Church of the Holy Cross - 333 West 42nd Street

In 1850 Pope Pius IX created the Archdiocese of New York City, elevating Irish-born Bishop John J. Hughes to archbishop.   The 53-year old Hughes was as hard-edged as he was holy.  Anti-Catholic sentiment was rampant in the first half of the 19th century.  It was Hughes who had led the Ancient Order of Hibernians and armed parishioners against a mob determined to burn St. Patrick's Cathedral on Mulberry Street in 1844.  In a letter to Mayor James Harper he threatened "Should one Catholic come to harm, or should one Catholic business be molested, we shall turn this city into a second Moscow."

Now, two years later Hughes intended to show New Yorkers that the Catholic Church was here to stay.  Early in February 1852 he appealed for the construction of "eight or ten new Catholic churches," including the new St. Patrick's Cathedral on Fifth Avenue.

The first to be organized was the Church of the Holy Cross.  The Rev. Joseph A. Lutz was given the job of creating the new parish.  He obtained the use of a building on West 42nd Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues as a temporary chapel while funds for a permanent building were raised.

The site was all but godless.  Sitting in the midst of what would become known as Hell's Kitchen within a few decades, it was surrounded by ramshackle shanties, mostly constructed of wood.  The district's residents were impoverished and for the most part lawless.  Charles H. Farnham, in an article in Schribner's Monthly in 1879 wrote in part, "Large rats stared at us from the beams, sewer vomited filth and the water and the air were unendurably loathesome.  This is known as 'Hell's kitchen.'  It may seem incredible that any freeman should choose such a place for his abode; yet where could a criminal find more congenial gloom?"

Despite its surroundings, sufficient money for a building was raised.  The Evening World commented later, "Although the congregation was a poor one the new building was designed on a substantial plan and the corner-stone laid the same year."    The dedication was held on December 17, 1854.  Within the year Rev. Patrick McCarthy was appointed the new pastor.

At around 2:00 on the afternoon of June 18, 1867 a terrific storm blew across Manhattan.  The following morning The New York Herald reported "During the prevalence of the thunder storm yesterday afternoon the steeple of the Church of the Holy Cross, on Forty-second street...was struck by lightning and very much shattered.  Large particles of the brick and wood work here hurled around, but fortunately no person was injured.  It will be found necessary to take down the remaining portions of the steeple without delay."  Indeed, The New York Times informed pedestrians that the north side of 42nd Street was closed, "as the steeple is still in a very shakey and dangerous condition."

Repairs were initiated, but engineers soon realized that the structure had been severely compromised.  "The reformation was commenced," said The New York Herald, "but it was speedily discovered that an entire reconstruction would be most advantageous, and, in the end, most economical."

Old St. Patrick's Cathedral had been devastated by a fire a year earlier and architect Henry Engelbert was brought in to reconstruct the venerable structure.  Now he was commissioned to design the new Church of the Holy Cross.   The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide noted on March 28, 1868 that construction costs for the structure were projected at $90,000.

The cornerstone of the new church was laid on on May 31, 1868.  The New York Herald reported "The ceremonies were attended by an immense concourse of persons.  The windows, housetops, trees and other eminences in the neighborhood were crowded."

Construction was completed the following year and the dedication took place on May 7, 1870.   The New York Times described the architecture as "of the renaissance order, and the building is surmounted by a lofty dome, which gives it a most imposing appearance."   The Evening World disagreed regarding the style, calling it "Byzantine," adding "the material of which it is built is pressed Philadelphia brick with trimmings of Belleville stone and polished bluestone."

In fact, neither was correct, at least by today's terminology.  Engelbert married Romanesque Revival with Gothic Revival.  The dome which The New York Times deemed "imposing" was nearly lost behind the triangle gable of the central section and the pyramid-topped towers on either end.   The red-brick structure sat above a broad stone staircase that elevated the church from the gritty sidewalk.

Inside were "spacious galleries."  The church could accommodate 1,800 worshipers.  In the year since the plans had been filed the cost had risen to "not far from $100,000," according to The New York Times, or around $1.8 million in today's dollars.  Considering their own meager conditions, the parishioners of the Church of the Holy Cross must have been awe-stricken when they first entered.

Like many Victorian priests, Rev. Patrick McCarthy shepherded his flock by invoking the fear of God.  In his sermon on the first day of Lent in 1871 he urged his congregation to "consider the number and enormity of our offenses against God, the violence of our passions and the many dangers and temptations to which we are exposed."   And he warned "But, alas! A carnal and effeminate life has now become so common in this country that many Catholics are but too ready to imitate the lives and example of the unprincipled and irreligious men by whom they are surrounded."

After more than two decades as pastor, McCarthy died in August 1877.  His funeral on Thursday the 9th required a large police presence due to the number of mourners.  The New York Herald reported that the "immense crowd" had filled 42nd Street more than an hour before the funeral and the "press around the gates became so great that the church had to be opened at nine o'clock though the funeral ceremonies were not to begin until half-past ten."

"The large building became so densely thronged in a few minutes that the assistance of the police had to be obtained to assist in thinning the numbers of the crowd who blocked up the aisles.  Even after a large number of persons had been removed the heat was almost unbearable."

Even at the time of Rev. McCarthy's funeral the building had not been consecrated.  Catholic tradition demanded that the entire debt ($92,000 at the time) had to be paid off beforehand.   By 1885 it was apparent that the money had almost been raised and, in preparation for the consecration, substantial redecoration was initiated.   On December 27 The New York Times reported "The next Catholic church to be consecrated will be the Church of the Holy Cross" and said "The work of enlarging and improving the edifice has been going on for the last four months."

A rear extension designed by architect Lawrence J. O'Connor enlarged the sanctuary by 25 feet.  The article explained "on either side of the new sanctuary there are large and commodious sacristies.  The sanctuary is to be semicircular in form, it will contain three altars of white Vermont marble, and the pavement will be of encaustic tile."  Stained glass windows executed by Mayer & Co. of Munich, Germany were set into the dome.  Other new windows included the central "Exaltation of the Cross," and four which depicting the Evangelists.

Just a week before the ceremony work was still underway.  On March 13, 1886 The Record & Guide reported "The Church of the Holy Cross...is having a mural decoration prepare which simulates mosaic.  The ground in flowing continuous forms is warm but delicate in color.  The arch marked by a purple band expands on the walls into a boarder, and is interrupted by the colossal figures on the side of St. Peter, and on the other of St. Paul.  This treatment is new and its ultimate effect when in place may be looked for with interest."

Eleven days later The New York Times ran the headline "FREE FROM DEBT" and announced that Archbishop Corrigan had celebrated the ceremony of the consecration of the Church of the Holy Cross at 7:00 on the night before, March 21.

The members of the congregation of Holy Cross were, for the most part, Irish-born.  The parish had a branch of the Irish National League which met in the basement of the church.  At a meeting here on June 13, 1886, for instance, General Martin T. McMahon and Colonel John O'Beirne spoke "on the fitness of the Irish people for self-government."

It was not surprising, therefore, that another Irish-born priest, Rev Charles McCready, took Rev. McCarthy's place.  Born in Ireland in 1837, he had been assistant pastor at St. Stephen's Church under Rev. Edward McGlynn until his appointment at Holy Cross.  When he arrived the church operated the Holy Cross Academy for girls under the charge of the Sisters of Charity, the St. Vincent's Industrial School, and a girl's parochial school.  He enhanced the church's educational efforts by erecting the Holy Cross School, completed in 1890 which could accommodate 1,000 pupils.

In the meantime, Rev. McCready's close friend, Rev. McGlynn, was involved in serious drama.  Outspoken and liberal-minded, he pronounced opinions some of which ran counter to Catholic dogma--that public schools were "quite adequate," for instance.  Archbishop Corrigan ordered him to correct his behavior; but he pressed on.  Finally, in January 1887 he "was driven from the pastorate of St. Stephen's Church and excommunicated as a result," as described by The Evening World.

McGlynn had been loved by his congregation and they lamented his fate.  So when word got out that he was to celebrate Christmas mass in the Church of the Holy Cross in 1894, elation spread.  A week earlier Rev. McGlynn had reached out to Archbishop Corrigan.  The two men, once bitter antagonists, reconciled and McGlynn was given permission to say mass publicly.  Rev. McCready invited his friend to do so at Holy Cross.

More than 4,000 people arrived for Christmas mass.  The Evening World reported "The Holy Cross Church was not built to accommodate more than half that number, but this morning, at 4.30 o'clock, not only had every pew an occupant, but the aisles were packed, as was the gallery, and every inch of space close up to the altar rails almost was black with humanity."

According to the newspaper many of the worshipers had camped out overnight in the church to guarantee a seat, "and when they saw him come out from the sacristy, they felt like shouting, and would have done so, but for the occasion.  As it was, a murmur that was half sob, half exultant cry, was plainly heard."

On October 5, 1902 Monsignor John M. Farley headed the golden jubilee ceremonies here.  What might have been just another celebratory mass became anything but when, afterward, his secretary, Father Hayes, handed him a sealed packet which had arrived by special delivery from the Apostolic Delegation in Washington.  He broke the seal and read the contents, showing no reaction.  He went to the vestry where he knelt before a small altar and prayed for 20 minutes.

Afterward he joined the guests of the church who were enjoying dinner in the School Hall.  There he revealed that the packet contained a Papal bull notifying him that he had been appointed Archbishop of New York.

When the United State entered World War I, assistant pastor Rev. Aloysius C. Dineen left Holy Cross to volunteer.  On October 3 1917, he was commissioned a chaplain in the United States Army.  But it was another Irish priest whose service in the war would be forever linked to the Church of the Holy Cross.

Father Francis Patrick Duffy had been Army chaplain during the Spanish-American War.  In 1916, while pastor of Our Savior Catholic Church in the Bronx, he was made chaplain of the 165th National Guard Unit of the 42nd Division (formerly the 69th Infantry Regiment).  Now Duffy went to war with "The Fighting 69th."

He became the most highly decorated chaplain in U.S. Army history--earning the Distinguished Service Cross and the Distinguished Service Medal from the U.S. and the Legion d'Honneur and Croix de Guerre from the French Government.

photo from the collection of the U S. Army Chaplain Center and School

Following the war, in 1921, he became pastor of the Church of the Holy Cross.  Under his pastorate Holy Cross became understandably popular with servicemen and veterans.  Duffy celebrated an annual mass for the 69th Regiment, held on the anniversary of the Battle of Chateau-Thierry during which the Regiment lost more than 200 men.  The event was an emotional and imposing one, with the men forming at the 69th Regiment Armory on Lexington Avenue and 26th Street and marching in formation to the church.

On April 2, 1925 a case of "jewelry" that arrived in New York on the steamship Homeric was held by Customs until Rev. Duffy cleared things up.   The "jewelry," he explained, was in fact 5,000 rosaries
"each blessed by the Pope, which he had brought back from Rome for the men with whom he served in France," reported The Evening World.  "Every man in the regiment, regardless of faith or creed, will receive a rosary, although many of the men were Jews or Protestants."  The carton was released duty-free.

Father Duffy's Church, as Holy Cross was popularly known, still sat within a rough neighborhood.  By now tenements and factories surrounded it and to the east the bawdy Times Square district had developed.   Duffy realized that many of his parishioners worked night shifts, in factories and theaters, making it impossible for them to attend the mandatory Sunday mass.  In January 1932 he received special permission from the Vatican to hold mass at 2:15 a.m. on Sunday mornings for night workers.

The dome and lantern are visible in this 1931 photograph.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Father Francis Duffy died on June 26, 1932 at the age of 61.  He had been ill for three months.  He was replaced as pastor by Police Department Chaplain Rev. Joseph A. McCaffrey.  Like Duffy, he had been a chaplain overseas during the war.

On April 22, 1943 McCaffrey, now a monsignor, officiated at the dedication of the Victory Chapel in the basement of the church.  The New York Times reported "He dedicated the new chapel for the offering of special prayers for men in the service and for their use while on leave."  With World War II raging, he included in his sermon a "special plea for peace with final victory."

The Victory Chapel original source unknown

On November 15, 1944 Mgr. McCaffrey reported that the crucifix from the Victory Chapel was missing.  It was valued at about $100.  Then a plate representing the 12th station of the cross was gone from the main church.  A replacement crucifix more than two feet tall and worth $400 was put in the Victory Chapel.  That disappeared on November 29 along with a set of bells used for mass.  Police were most puzzled as to how the large crucifix could have been spirited out of the chapel unnoticed.

The crucifix was found later in a Harlem pawn shop where it had been sold for $2.  It was a clue that led detectives to 21-year old Vivian De Munn, who was arrested on February 12, 1945.  "The woman claimed to have been living in subways for several months, after being drive from the home of an aunt, a Harlem resident, with whom she had quarreled," reported The New York Times.

Despite Mgr. McCaffrey's lobbying that would eventually result in the clean-up of the Times Square pornographic theaters and seedy shops, the 42nd block was still grim in 1992 when Rev. Peter Colapietro became pastor.  Directly across the street now was the Port Authority Bus Terminal where homeless slept and addicts, prostitutes and alcoholics loitered.

Called by some newspapers the "saloon priest," he had been a bartender before entering the priesthood.   The charismatic pastor, like his predecessors, was beloved by his congregation.   His cool street smarts helped him deal with sometimes alarming situations.

The Catholic periodical Our Sunday Visitor reported in 1994 about an incident involving actor Mickey Rourke.  His marriage to actress and model Carré Otis was on the rocks and he believed she had been sexually assaulted.  Armed with a pistol, Rourke was on his way to shoot the suspected rapist and kill himself.  He had already composed a suicide note when he walked into Holy Cross.

Rourke told Our Sunday Visitor "I didn't know this man, Father Peter.  I just walked in his church...and met the right priest."  He said that Fr. Colapietro "took away my gun and had me leave the note with St. Jude, the patron saint of impossible causes."

During mass one Sunday morning a man hurled a beer bottle towards Fr. Colapietro.  It smashed on the steps leading to the altar, damaging the marble.  In 2007 a $6 million restoration of the church began.   During the earlier planning period, Fr. Colapietro insisted that the gouge inflicted by the beer bottle remain.

Rev. Peter Colapietro was transferred to an East Side church in 2013.  Today the congregation of the Church of the Holy Cross, once nearly entirely of Irish descent, is heavily Hispanic.  Masses are held in both English and Spanish.   The church operates a food kitchen in the neighborhood which, as it was in 1852, still has more than its share of poor and hungry.

photographs by the author

Church of Our Lady of Sorrows -- 105 Pitt Street

Political and social unrest in the German states prompted thousands of immigrants to settle in New York City beginning in the late 1840s.  By 1855, only Berlin and Vienna had larger German-speaking populations.  The new citizens clustered on the Lower East Side, creating what would become known as Kleindeutschland, or Little Germany.

In 1857, Rev. Bonaventure Frey, a Capuchin priest, founded the Church of Our Lady of Sorrows for the German Catholics.  Thirty years later, The Evening World would comment, “In those years immigration had begun to increase to such an extent that its effect was very appreciable, especially in the east side district.”  Rev. Frey’s new congregation was originally an offshoot of St. Mary’s Roman Catholic Church.  The New York Times later remembered, “the first parish mass was said in a billiard room at 121 Pitt Street.”  But within a decade, its separation from St. Mary’s was authorized by Archbishop McCloskey “who saw and appreciated the needs of the German Catholics in that part of the city,” as explained by The World.

Three lots were purchased on Pitt Street in 1867, just off the corner of Stanton Street, and German-born architect Henry Engelbert was hired to design a permanent church building.  The cornerstone was laid on August 15, 1867.  Completed in 1868, the structure exhibited a jumble of styles, the effectiveness of which can easily be argued.

A split staircase let to the paired entrance doors nearly a story above street level.  Romanesque arches, Gothic corbels and a square, somewhat stumpy bell tower joined with various niches and openings to create a dizzying visual display.  The Evening World called it, “a handsome structure of the Byzantine style.” 

On Sunday, September 6, 1868, Archbishop John McCloskey dedicated the new church, which was capable of seating 1,200 worshipers.  Apparently not overly-impressed, the New York Herald gave the event a single sentence.

The newspaper was more moved six months later when the organ was dedicated on April 30, 1869.  It was built by Felix Barckhoff, who had arrived in American from Westphalia, Germany just four years earlier.  The Herald remarked, “This pretty little church, in Pitt Street, was crowded to its utmost capacity last night.”  The evening featured several choral groups “with several well known artists,” and solo performances on the instrument.

The New York Herald deemed the organ “a genuine novelty and success, the solo stops being true to their orchestral original and the mixture being of an entirely different quality from what we have heard on other more pretentious organs.”  The article summed up the evening saying, “Few churches in this city presented such a brilliant appearance last night as that of Our Lady of Sorrows.”

While the church was widely known for its German congregation, the funerals of Irish immigrants were frequently held here (possibly because the deceased had no church of their own).  In October 1873, for instance, the funeral of Mary Ronan, “wife of Michael” was held at Our Lady of Sorrows.  She was a native of Limerick, Ireland.  And two months later Patrrick McGill’s funeral was held in the church.  He had come from County Donegal.

Connected to the church was the Capuchin Convent, also founded by Rev. Frey.  And in 1874 a new school building was completed on the corner of Pitt and Stanton Streets, next door.  On December 14 that year, the church ladies staged a “grand fair” in the hall of the school to offset the construction costs.  Church fairs were a common means of fund-raising in the 19^th century and The New York Herald promised, “a number of tables well covered with objects of art and virtu will surround the spacious hall, and tasteful draping depend from the walls and ceiling.”

The newspaper reported that shopper could find articles “some of great value and rare curiosity, and there is little doubt that with the efficient corps of lady attendants the fair will be an entire success.”

By the 1890s, another immigrant group, the Italians, was edging into Little Germany.  Although services in Our Lady of Sorrows were still celebrated in German, the new arrivals often dropped into the open church to pray.  One of these was Michael Marricini, who stopped in on the afternoon of November 23, 1893.

Many residents of the surrounding tenements struggled to survive, and unexpected babies could be a significant financial hardship.  There was no better place than a church to leave an infant the care for which its parents could not afford.  As Marricini knelt in the silence of the church, he heard, “a feeble wail.”  The New York Times reported the following day, “In a seat near his he found a girl baby, about a month old, which had been abandoned.”

A slip of paper was on the pew near the infant read, “Anna Skimbaer, Katolik.”  The little girl was wearing a polka dot dress.  Little Anna was taken to Police Headquarters.

In the summer of 1899, the 30-year-old building received a make-over.  A sculpture by Joseph Sibbel, representing the Blessed Virgin holding the dead Christ was installed over the doorway.  Eleven-feet-long and six-feet-high, the beautiful work of art filled the lunette above the entrance.  Inside the church, the lantern received eight mural paintings by William Lamprecht.  The New York Times reported in August, “The entire church is being modernized and decorated.”

By 1913, the number of Italian congregants prompted Rome to send two Italian priests to Our Lady of Sorrows.  In a rather bigoted remark, The Fortnightly Review reported in 1917 that they “now conduct regular services for the Italians on Sundays and holydays in a church which was built by and for Germans, and once entirely devoted to their needs…This fact shows once again that many of our Italian immigrants can be saved or regained for the faith if earnest and intelligent efforts are made in this direction.”

The Fortnightly Review article was congratulating Our Lady of Sorrows on its 50^th anniversary.  In doing so, it went on to insult another group—the Jews.  Pointing out that a change in the complexion of the neighborhood “is owing to the Jewish invasion of the lower East Side, which set in about 1879 and has not yet reached its climax,” the article worried for the fate of the Pitt Street church.  “It is to be hoped that this ‘invasion’ will not ultimately convert Our Lady of Sorrows Church, once German, now practically Italian, into a Jewish synagogue.”

Twenty-five years later, when Our Lady of Sorrows celebrated its 75^th Anniversary, The Fortnightly Review would have been pleased to see that the services were still Roman Catholic, and still being conducted in German and Italian.  The church built to accommodate 1,200 people, however, had less than half that many.  The New York Times was diplomatic in reporting, “Many descendants of the original German families and the early Italians were present yesterday among the 500 persons who thronged the little church.”

The neighborhood continued to change and Our Lady of Sorrows adapted to meet the needs of its new congregants.  By March 10, 1966, when the basement of the church was used for a meeting of the Committee of Welfare Families of the Lower East Side, English and Spanish had replaced German and Italian.

Today, other than an ill-advised coat of paint over the brick, Henry Englebert’s church is little changed since it opened in 1868.  Now known also as Nuestra Senora de los Dolores, it offers masses in Spanish as well as English.  And it continues to serve the newcomers to America as it did nearly 160 years ago.

photographs by the author