The James McCreery House - 325 East 14th Street

 

Born in Ireland in 1826, James McCreery arrived in the United States when he was about 20 years old, settling first in Baltimore.  He relocated to New York City to join the drygoods firm of Upson, Pierson & Lake on Broadway.  In 1851 he married Fanny Maria Crawford and the couple moved into the fine house at 173 East 14th Street (renumbered 325 in 1868), between First and Second Avenues. 

It was one of a recently-erected row of 23-foot-wide, Greek Revival homes.  A high stoop rose above the English basement to the entrance.  Here the architect gave pilasters highly unusual Egyptian lotus capitals decorated with carved anthemia.   The influence of the Italianate style was reflected in the stoop ironwork, the floor-to-ceiling parlor windows, and the ornate bracketed cornice.

Heavily weathered today, the Egyptian capitals were highly unexpected.

Interestingly, McCreery's brother, John, moved briefly into the house with the newlyweds.  John was a partner in the McCreery & Goulding drygoods firm at 18 John Street.  He was no longer listed at the 14th Street address by 1853.

James and Fanny would have four sons: James Crawford, born in 1853; Andrew born in 1857; Robert Samuel, who arrived in 1860; and William John, born three years later.  Just before William John's birth, the family moved to 15 Washington Place, across the street from Cornelius Vanderbilt I.  McCreery had risen within Upson, Pierson & Lake following the retirement of Upson.  By 1867 he would take control of the firm, changing its name to McCreery & Co. and becoming one of the city's wealthiest businessmen.

James McCreery, image via Notable New Yorkers 1869-1899 (copyright expired)

McCreery rented the 14th Street house, advertising in the New York Herald on April 16, 1862:

East Fourteenth Street--To rent, the three story and attic brown stone, high stoop House 173 East Fourteenth street, between First and Second avenues, 23-1/2 feet front, to a private family only.

The James Brady family lived here in the 1860's, and while McCreery's ad stressed "private family only," it did not prohibit the taking in of a boarder, as was common.   From 1864 through 1869 Frederick Sackett Hanford rented a room while he attended Columbia University.  The young man's home was in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio.

Following Brady's death at the age of 69 in January 1870, 325 East 14th Street became home to the Thomas Le Claire family.  Sharing the house was Le Claire's sister-in-law, Margaret Dean, as well as her adult daughter, Frances, son-in-law, Washington L. Jaques, and their children.  

The year 1872 would be a traumatic one for the family.  On June 25, Frances and Washington's eight-month-old son George Brower Jaques died.  Their youngest child, his little casket sat in the parlor until his funeral two days later.  And then, only three months later, Margaret Dean died at the age of 63 "after a lingering illness," according to The New York Sun.   

There would be a third funeral in the house three years later.  Thomas Le Claire contracted Bright's disease, a kidney condition known today as nephritis.  He died at the age of 58 on June 25, 1875 and his funeral was held in the house on the 27th.

By now 14th Street had become the center of Manhattan's theater district.  Catherine Charles, the widow of John Charles, was a close friend of the McCreerys.  Catherine purchased 325 East 14th Street and began operating it as a "theatrical boarding house."

Among her more tragic boarders was William Carleton who took a room in 1884.  An Irish-born actor, author, and playwright, he had been known as the Great Carleton.   The New York Herald noted, "Not many years ago he was quite a favorite before the footlights, earned a handsome salary, and was hailed with delight on the 'Square' as a good fellow, because he spent his earnings freely and indiscriminately."

But when he rented his room from Catherine, he had not worked in two years.   He made some money by writing songs and plays, and received help from the Actors' Fund Association.  The New York Herald explained his fall, saying "But by and by there came a change.  William sought the wine cup too frequently and neglected his business...His clothes began to look shabby, his appearance changed and people on the square no longer pressed forward to welcome the comedian and playwright."

He lived over a year in the 14th Street house where, according to the newspaper, Catherine Charles "by words and kindness, endeavored to make things pleasant for the actor.  She said he was always so gentlemanly in his manner and so cheerful in disposition that no one could fail to like him."  Carleton's continued drinking prompted the Actors' Fund to cease supporting him, and living in a boarding house became too costly.  He left in May 1885 to take a furnished room a block away at 316 East 14th Street.

Carleton became ill early in August 1885.  The New York Herald said that Catherine and one of her boarders, a Mrs. Chandler, "brought the sick scion many nourishments.  They saw that he wanted for nothing during his illness, and when he was able to get about again, he was profuse in his thanks."  But the once-proud thespian and writer was broken.  And on August 19, 1885 the Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported that the odor of gas in the rooming house was traced to Carleton's room.  "When the door was forced open he was found dead, lying across the bed."

Catherine's boarders in the 1890's included opera house proprietor Wallace H. Frisbie, Irish comedian Edward J. Heffernan, Eva Marshal (described by the New York Herald as "the high kicking soubrette"), vocalist Charles Burt, and actor Charles DeForrest and his actress wife Vera.

On December 19, 1899, the New York Morning Telegraph reported, "It takes something pretty strong to make the average boarders in a theatrical house complain, but there were many present in court to make all sorts of charges against [Charles] DeForrest, who, by all accounts, had left the place looking like a Kansas ranch after a friendly call from an ably built cyclone."

Vera testified that her husband had come home drunk "and terrorized the boarding house by smashing furniture, bombarding doors with crockery, and otherwise making life a horrible reality for all concerned."  When Policeman Fletcher started up the stairs, "he met a wash basin sailing down in his direction and ducked his head in time to avoid a collision."  DeForrest barricaded himself in his room while "along the hallways actors and actresses stuck their heads out to note the progress of the storm.  Broken crockery and pieces of chairs were strewn along the hall."  

DeForrest was arrested, but only after a struggle.  The article said, "Charles was not a thing of beauty when arraigned.  His head and face had been battered until his countenance resembled that upon a copper cent after a train had passed over it."   Referring to Officer Fletcher, he complained to the judge, "There was no reason why he should have assaulted me."  The magistrate promised, "I am going to inquire into that," but in the meantime he held the actor in $500 bail.

Two boarders who were most definitely not involved in the theater arrived on April 3, 1902.  Signing in as Mr. and Mrs. Harry Place, the couple were in reality Harry Alonzo Longabaugh, known to authorities as the outlaw and member of Butch Cassidy's "Wild Bunch," Sundance Kid, and his wife, Etta Place.  By now, the aging Catherine Charles had help from her niece in running the house, and at least two biographies of the Sundance Kid refer to 325 East 14th Street as "Mrs. Thompson's."  The couple remained only until July 10, 1902 when they sailed to South America on the steamer Honorius.

The Sundance Kid and Etta Place posed for his photograph at DeYoung's Studio at 857 Broadway while staying here.

As she had done with William Carleton, Catherine maintained close relationships with many of her boarders.  Jerry Clayton was one of those.  A partner in the Stanton-Olifan Trio, well known to vaudeville audiences, he enlisted in the Army in 1917.  When he was killed in action on September 3, 1918, the Government listed his next of kin as Catherine Charles.

One of Catherine's longest-lasting boarders was Frank J. Hurley, a vaudeville acrobat who went by the stage name Frank Rossi.  He moved in around 1892 and as the decades passed, began helping his aging landlady.  It was a kindness that did not escape the appreciation of Catherine Charles.  

On May 16, 1922 she rewrote her will.  Interestingly, it was witnessed by J. A. McCreery, presumably the grandson of James McCreery.  The will gave her entire estate to Frank Hurley, "in recognition of his helpful assistance to me in carrying on the business of the house and in attending to my personal wants while I was in suffering health."  After having run the boarding house for more than four decades, Catherine died on June 28, 1922.

Around 1932 the basement level was converted to an Italian restaurant, Lido Dell' East.

The Daily Worker, October 26, 1932.

A renovation in 1954 resulted in six furnished rooms per floor in the upper stories.  At the time the Spanish restaurant Il Faro had operated on West 14th Street since 1927.  In 1968, The Underground Gourmet reported, "Il Faro has moved eastward to somewhat fancier quarters at 325 East 14th Street, but prices and menu remain virtually unchanged."

Il Faro eventually moved west again, to 823 Greenwich Street.  By 1993 the restaurant space was home to the Filipino restaurant, Manila Garden.  The New York Times food critic Elaine Louie said of it on October 5, 1994, "Napkins are linen, flowers are fresh, and drinks aren't soda pop."

That same year the upper portion of the house was converted to apartments, one per floor.  Around the turn of the century the Crocodile Lounge moved into the restaurant space.  Today, of the long row of homes, the McCreery house is the best preserved.  With little imagination the passerby can imagine its well-dressed occupants alighting from their carriage before the stoop.

photographs by the author

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The 1855 Upsdell, Peirson, Lake & Co. Store - 471 Broadway

On February 19, 1823 Miles R. Burke purchased the handsome Federal style brick house at No. 471 Broadway and the stables directly behind at No. 44 Mercer Street from William H. Harrison and Abraham Ogden, Jr.  A wealthy merchant, Burke owned the two-masted brig Resort which brought goods into New York.  

In 1832 he married Jane Antoinette Duffie.  She traced her American roots to John and Catherine Duffie who left Scotland in 1741 (only Catherine arrived, her husband having fallen overboard).  Jane Antoinette's mother, Maria, was the daughter of Cornelius Roosevelt.

Miles R. Burke apparently knew his death was imminent on July 22, 1836 when he signed his last will and testament.  He died shortly afterward, leaving the Broadway property to his wife.  She married Isaac Gibson on August 29, 1842, within a year of his first wife's death, and the couple remained at No. 471.  Gibson was listed as a "merchant and broker" and was a member of the New York Society Library.

In the 1850's the Broadway neighborhood was seeing the incursion of commerce and the wealthy homeowners left their elegant homes to move further north.  In 1854 the Gibsons demolished No. 471 to replace it with a modern store and loft building.  Confusingly, the paperwork listed Jane Antoinette's unmarried sister, Margaret, as the owner of record (although she was not), and Daniel Badger's Architectural Iron Works, which supplied the cast iron storefront, listed the property's owner as "W. [sic] Gibson."  Although it was her property, Jane Antoinette received no mention.

Completed early in 1855, the Italianate style building could easily have been mistaken for an uptown mansion above the storefront.  The windows within its brownstone front sat within architrave frames upon molded sills.  Carved decoration filled the spaces below gently arched lintels.  An interesting carved frieze of a chain-link design ran below the modillioned cornice.

The new building became home to Ubsdell, Peirson, Lake & Co. which had been founded in 1840 on Canal Street as Ubsdell & Peirson.  When George G. Lake entered the firm, it moved into No. 471.  Here fashionable women would shop for a wide variety of clothing and accessories.  A single advertisement on April 3, 1855 listed "a large lot of English and German cotton hosiery for ladies' wear...a lot of China silk hose very cheap...theatrical hosiery, consisting of French hose, tights &c....a large stock of Bajou's kid gloves, embracing all the fashionable Spring colors...a beautiful assortment of rich Cashmere Stella shawls...ten cases more of those yard wide calicoes...and "the last lot of those cheap Irish linens."

The firm had barely opened in its new home when it was the victim of burglars.  In April the Troy Daily Times reported "During Friday night the dry goods' store of Ubsdell, Pierson & Lake, situated at 471 Broadway, New York, was entered by burglars, and Canton Crape Shawls, to the value of near $2000, was carried away by the rogues."  The heist would be worth more than $60,000 in today's money.

The New York Herald, October 30, 1859 (copyright expired)

Another, much smaller, theft six years later would result in embarrassing press for the store.  On May 8, 1861 the wife of wealthy boot and shoe wholesaler Robert B. Currier and her niece "called at the store of Ubsdell, Pierson & Lake, No. 471 Broadway...to do a little shopping," as reported by The New York Times.  "After looking at some goods, they went leisurely out of the store into the adjoining one of Beekman & Co."

Shortly afterward the clerk who had waited on them noticed a piece of silk he had shown them was missing.  He informed Charles Pierson that they had stolen the merchandise and was told to bring them back.  The well-to-do women were affronted at the accusation and demanded Pierson to search them.  "This he declined to do, as not being proper for him, but determined to and did send for two police detectives," said The Times.  

The women were searched and nothing was found.  Pierson asked the officers to release them; but it was too late.  The clerk had "positively" made the charge and the policemen were obligated to take the women in as "they might have had an accomplice" who made off with the goods.

At police headquarters the clerk was directed by his employer to withdraw the charges and after Pierson gave "ample apologies" the messy affair seemed to have been over.  That is, until Robert Currier stormed into the store a few weeks later 
and asked what reparations Pierson and his partner intended to make.  He was given another "ample apology."

That was not enough to repair his wife's damaged feelings and restore her tainted reputation so Currier sued the store for $10,000 for slander and false imprisonment--a staggering $300,000 today.  After a two-day trial and deliberation of five hours, the jury "disagreed" on a verdict.

It may have contributed to the disbanding of Ubsdell, Peirson, Lake & Co.  The original partners withdrew from the firm and George G. Lake now joined with James McCreery to form Lake & McCreery.  The new partnership continued at the location, offering similar merchandise as before.  An advertisement on December 26, 1864, for instance, read:

Great Reduction In Cloaks--
Lake & McCreery, No. 471 Broadway, are now offering their large and desirable assortment of cloaks, consisting of English, Whitney, Frosted, Chinchilla, Castor, Moscow and other Beaver Cloths, at Greatly Reduced Prices.
Ladies desirous of purchasing cloaks for Holiday Presents will do well to call and examine our stock.

In the meantime, Isaac Gibson had died on June 26, 1860 at the age of 58.  Jane Antoinette retained possession of the Broadway building, living on in the couple's home at 251 Lexington Avenue.   She would continue to own the property until her death in 1889.

Emporiums had to not only watch vigilantly for shoplifters, but for theft from within.  A clerk, Francis Wildey, was arrested on September 26, 1867 "to answer a change of stealing silks and other articles," said The Daily Whig.  "He had sold the goods to various persons, some of them customers of the firm, at cost price, and the purchasers supposed he had the consent of his employers."  The value of the stolen goods would be $26,700 in today's dollars.

The store offered a wide variety of dry goods items.  The New York Herald, June 7, 1868 (copyright expired)

The store was the victim of theft yet again in June 1868 when the well-known shoplifter, Eliza Wallace, walked out with 70 yards of silk.  She was arrested, but released on bail.  And she then immediately disappeared.

Six months later, on January 24, 1869 The New York Times entitled an article "Arrest of a Notorious Female Criminal"  and reported that "Eliza Wallace, alias Eliza Gilford, alias Mary Anderson, alias Mary Rogers, alias Big Mary, alias Boston Mary, was arrested."  She had been tracked down in Philadelphia where police had "six or eight complaints against her for operations in that city."

By the time of her arrest McCreery had bought out George Lake and renamed the store James McCreery & Co. and its new, lavish emporium was rising at the northwest corner of Broadway and 11th Street.   On April 18, 1869 a six-day "Removal" sale was advertised in The New York Herald.

No. 471 Broadway next became home to bookseller and publisher B. Westermann & Co.  It dealt in scholarly works, publishing in 1870, for instance, Die Chemisch-Technischen Millheilungen des Jahres, which it marketed as "a very valuable contribution to technical literature," and Bibliotheca Mechanico-Technologica et Economica, "a classified catalogue of all books on technical chemistry, etc."

B. Westermann & Co. remained at least through 1874, followed by William J. Blake's "millinery trims" operation, which signaled the end of the building as a single-tenant store.  

In 1887 the ground floor was occupied by the lace and embroidery store of Lewis, Cable & Lesser.  Jacob Adler, glove merchant, was on the second floor, and Moritz Fischer, who dealt in dress and cloak trimmings, had the top three floors.  Somewhat suspiciously, on Saturday night, March 26, that year two fires broke out almost simultaneously on the block.  The first started in Lewis, Cable & Lesser's store.

Although the building suffered only about $1,000 damage ($28,000 in today's terms), the tenants were less lucky.  Lewis, Cable & Lesser lost "not less than $20,000, and possibly half as much more," according to The New York Times (as much as $832,000 today); Jacob Adler's losses ranged from $8,000 to $12,000; and Moritz Fischer around $1,000.

Lewis, Cable & Lesser did not return.  The ground floor space was taken by S. Oppenheimer & Co.   Adler and Fischer both renewed their leases.  Adler's firm would be renamed Alfred Adler by 1892.  That year, according to Patricia Ellerton Duffie in her 1983 The Duffie Family of Edinburgh and New York, Oppenheimer and Adler were paying rents "up to $9,500 a year."  (That would translate to an significant $22,250 per month today.)

A. Fisher, manufacturer of dress, cloak and fur trimmings, was in the building in 1914 when its proprietor became the victim of fraud and then the butt of a mean practical joke.  It started when angry store owners began storming into Fisher's office demanding payment on bad checks he had signed to buy items like a new overcoat, an umbrella, and two suits.  An unknown cad was outfitting himself with fine new clothing while posing as Fisher.

And then on March 29 The New York Times reported "Mr. Fisher was nearly distracted by this time, but the worst was yet to come.  Girls began to arrive, blonds, brunettes, and others.  They were all ready to take hold of the jobs at high wages for which they had been engaged."  The girls initially refused to believe that Fisher was, indeed, Fisher.  They were expecting the "nice young man they had met at dances."  They further said he had been very generous and had bought each of them "several glasses of beer or something stronger."  The article said "They were disappointed in the real Fisher and were persuaded to leave with difficulty."

In the post World War I years A. Fisher (who had branched out to include "undertakers' trimmings" to his line) was joined in the building by Van Blankensteyn & Hennings, "embroidery and woolen" dealers.

In the 1940's the 1855 decorative elements were still intact.  The surviving house next door would have been very similar to the Burke-Gibson house.  photo via the NYC Department of Records & Information Services.

A renovation completed in 1965 was most likely responsible for the loss of the Victorian architectural elements--the window framings, carvings and lintels.   Thankfully the cornice and decorative frieze were preserved. 

Another change came in 1976 when the top two floors were converted to artist work-living quarters--one on each floor.  Thirteen years later the second and third floors became artists lofts as well.  The accommodations were perhaps less than first class, however, as reflected in the Department of Building's notation "heat supplied by approved type gas heaters."

photographs by the author

The Baumann Bros. Bldg.- No. 22-26 East 14th Street

In 1880 the Union Square neighborhood bore no resemblance to the farmland it had been 70 years earlier.  Henry Spingler died in 1814 in his country home that sat approximately where the Square is today.  Not far away to the south, roads were already being laid and houses and shops constructed.  Spingler’s farmland would soon be engulfed by development.

In 1832 Union Square was laid out and by 1845 fine brick residences were appearing along its borders.  That year $116,000 was spent on paving the surrounding streets and landscaping the square.  And simultaneously Spingler’s old house was taken by the city through condemnation proceedings.  It spelled the end of that chapter.

The second chapter—that of refined mansions and wealthy residents—was a short one and would come to an end shortly after the end of the Civil War.   The business community rapidly moved in, taking over upscale homes or razing them for commercial structures.  As always, the moneyed homeowners fled northward.

In 1880 successful textile merchant James McCreery commissioned brothers David and John Jardine, also Scottish immigrants, to design a commercial building to replace the Arlington Building at Nos. 22 through 26 East 14^th Street.   Construction began in December 1880 and, simultaneously, Joseph J. Little began work on a structure next door at No 28 and another developer started construction on No. 30.

These men approached the Board of Aldermen, separately, requesting permission to include projecting shop windows.   The requests were denied because “of the refusal of Mr. McCreery to assent to the erection of bay-windows by them,” as recorded in the Proceedings of the Board of Aldermen.   The developers were understandably upset when, in May 1881, McCreery applied to the Board “to place bay-windows on stores Nos. 22, 24, and 26 East Fourteenth street.”

Mayor W. R. Grace returned the resolution “without my approval” on May 28, saying “The owners of the buildings No. 28 and No. 30 East Fourteenth street object strongly to the proposed bay-windows on the ground that they would injure their stores, which have been built with plain fronts” because of McCreery’s complaints.

Even without the protruding bays, the Jardines’ building was an eye-catcher.  Completed in September that year the $75,000 structure was faced in cast iron.   But architects who had worked with the material in the decades before had, mostly, followed one or two standard motifs.  The Jardines moved away from the pack, drawing on a collection of popular styles to create a powerful up-to-the-minute statement of current taste in architecture and art.  Seemingly incongruous styles—neo-Grec-influenced openings married with neo-Classical swags and pilasters—were splashed with surprising Aesthetic Movement panels of sunflowers.

Beautiful Aesthetic-Movement panels joined the various styles used by the architects.

The building stretched through to 13^th Street and was quickly filled.   E. D. Bassford, “dealer in crockery and house-furnishing goods,” moved in.  The store was run by the son of E. D. Bassford who had died in 1873.  He had founded the firm in 1838 and since 1856 had been located in the Cooper Union.  His widow attempted to run the business until her death in 1881.  The younger Bassford moved the store into the new 14^th Street building on November 13, just a month after its completion.

Flint & Warren, dealers in dry goods, “Paris costumes,” and women’s apparel was another retailer here.  But McCreery’s major tenant was Baumann Brothers furniture and carpet store which opened on September 1.  The expansive showrooms offered customers a wide-range of furniture and styles.

Neither Flint & Warren nor E. D. Bassford would survive in the new location.  On May 15, 1883 The New York Times explained Bassford’s business failure, blaming the high rents charged by McCreery.  “The stand did not prove as eligible as was anticipated, the rent was $12,000 a year, and this Spring’s business was particularly bad.”

Baumann Brothers, however, was much more successful.  On October 15, 1891 The New York Times commented on the variety of pieces available.  Those mentioned were all historic European styles; but since they were made in America, the newspaper deemed them examples of “practical patriotism.”

It said Baumann Brothers “have opened at their show rooms an exhibition of artistic furniture of the Renaissance and Empire periods, deftly and cunningly copied from the Old World models by skillful American handicraft.  On the ground floor there is a massive sideboard of antique oak, a perfect reproduction of an old Tudor piece of furniture found in one of the manors of England.  The carving on this is an artistic revelation.  Further on there is a varied collection of desks in brass and rosewood, perfect copies of those now on exhibition at Versailles at the Little Trianon.  The prices of these range from $20 to $200.” Shopping at Baumann Brothers could get pricey—a $200 French-style desk in 1891 was the equivalent of about $5,000 today.

In 1894 this 4-piece "Chamber Suit" could be had for $100; "the greatest value for the price asked ever offered."   the New-York Tribune, September, 22, 1894 (copyright expired)

The journalist walked the reader through each department, including the carpet and bedroom sections.  There was also a parlor department.  “Here are gorgeous arm chairs in yellow, shrimp pink, and celeste blue satin damasks.  Parlor sets in all shades about in every imaginable style. Vernis Martin tables, Empire bric-a-brac cabinets, and many other dainty trifles for the drawing room are here in profusion.”

Baumann Brothers remained in the 14^th Street store until 1897, when they moved to Sixth Avenue.  McCreery briefly broke up the ground floor into separate shops.  In October 1886 he leased the first floor store and basement to M. Freedman, dry goods.  Another space was taken by the Austin-Remsen Co. bicycle shop.

Then in June 1900 James McCreery leased the entire round floor to Frank W. Woolworth.  The New York Times noted “The lease is for a long term of years.”   Indeed, the 5-and-10-cent store would stay here until 1928.

The upper floors now became manufacturing rather than retail space.  In 1901 Julius Deyfus & Co., an embroidery firm, operated here.  The impressive factory employed 35 men and 45 women.  Also in the building around the same time were Laird & Bonwit, “cloaks and suits;” and Hornthal, Benjamin & Riem, another apparel firm.  A large concern, it employed as many as 136 men and 71 women at any given time, with an office staff of eight.

Many teen-aged boys in 1904 worked to help their families rather than attend school.  One of them, Albert Greenwall, who worked in the 14^th Street building, was persuaded by his friend, 14-year old John Ell, to join him along with his mother and brother and another friend on a river excursion.   Albert did not go to work on Wednesday, June 15, 1904; instead he and about 1300 other passengers boarded the General Slocum headed to a picnic grove north on the East River.

John Ell told investigators later “As we neared Hell Gate children were called down to the lower deck where ice cream and soda were served…With my mother and my little brother Paul I went to the engine room to watch he machinery.  I was standing there with John Gray, Albert Greenwall, Otto Hans and a number of children.

“Suddenly and without the least note of warning there was a burst of flame from the furnace room that rushed up through the engine-room and flashed out about us.  The flames spread with the rapidity of an explosion, setting fire to the clothing of the women and children who were grouped about the engine-room watching the machinery.”

Within 15 minutes the General Slocum had burned to the water line.  Of the more than 1,300 souls on board, only 321 survived—the greatest loss of life in New York City until the World Trade Center murders of 9/11.  Albert Greenwall, who played hooky from work for a day of recreation, would never return.

Hornthal, Benjamin & Reim was still in the building in 1913.  Eugene S. Benjamin was President of the New York Clothing Trade Association, a leader in the opposition to union demands in a long-standing apparel worker strike.   The non-union workers employed by Hornthal, Benjamin & Reim were threatened by union thugs, causing the firm to offer sleeping accommodations so the workers did not have to go into the streets at night.

The New York Times reported “Some told of being followed to their homes at night and having glistening knives shown to them.  Others said that their families at home had received death threats.”

The threats were not taken lightly.   Shortly after midnight on February 28, 1913 a bomb exploded on the street directly below the sleeping quarters of another apparel firm, Fruhauf Brothers & Co. at No. 54 West 15^th Street.  Around 150 men and women were inside, but were unhurt.

Then, around 2:00 a.m. a foot-long pipe smashed through a window on the second floor where Hornthal, Benjamin & Reim workers were sleeping.  “When the heavy missile thumped on the floor there was such consternation that the police of the Mercer Street Station had to be called to quiet the frightened workers,” reported The Times later that morning.

A policeman dropped the pipe into a bucket of water, and then assured the workers that it was a fake.   Reporters were told that “the act was attributed to garment strikers desiring to ‘get even’ with Hornthal, Benjamin & Reim.”

But the loyal workers refused to be intimidated.  The New York Times interviewed one employee who said “When I was sick last Winter, my boss sent me my wages every week.  Now I have a chance to prove my appreciation and I am going to continue working in spite of death threats.  I want to say that I am prepared to meet any one who attacks me, and when I strike it will be to kill.”

Other apparel firms would come and go here.  In 1912 Sohn, Oppenheim & Co., “makers of ‘Sailor-waist’ brand trousers,” moved from West 20^th Street to the building.  The Clothier and Furnisher reported in August that year that “the new premises on Fourteenth Street have been very handsomely fitted up.  The loft is an unusually light one, and it is entirely finished in white, making a very pleasing appearance.”

When F. W. Woolworth moved out, the store was taken over by another five-and-ten-cent store, F. & W. Grant.   Like Woolworth, it operated a soda fountain here.  But it did not come without problems.

In September 1932 a pipe leading to the refrigeration unit broke, leaking ammonia gas.   Seven young women were overcome by the dangerous fumes.  Newspapers reported that an ambulance surgeon from St. Vincent’s Hospital treated them and they were sent home.

A worse incident occurred on June 5, 1936 when 20 employees collapsed around 5:30 in the afternoon.  Sulphur dioxide fumes were escaping from an ice cream cooler in the basement.  No one smelled the gas as it seeped up to the first floor until, after about 45 minutes, it became concentrated enough to overtake the employees.

“The store, which employs 150 persons, was filled with rush-hour customers and a near catastrophe was averted when James Evans, a Negro porter, ran to the basement and shut off the cooling plant.  Evans himself was overcome as he struggled back to the street floor,” reported The Times.

Seventeen girls and three men were dragged to the sidewalk and the store’s manager ordered the 14^th Street door closed.   Three ambulances and three emergency squads responded. Part of the second floor was vacant and was turned into a triage space.   Although the condition of the victims was not considered serious, Evans and five of the girls were taken to Columbus Hospital for observation.  “The fourteen others were sent home in taxicabs by the store management.”

In the meantime the Delehanty Institute had moved into 15,000 square feet of the building in 1930.  The organization trained candidates for both the Police and Fire Departments.  When the Institute renewed its lease in January 1941, a running track was installed on the roof.

Among the other tenants that year was the Kramer Tie Company.   Like its predecessors, the firm was sometimes plagued with union problems, and that year 40 girls walked out on strike, halting production of a $25,000 Government order for 100,000 black neckties for the United States Army.   Samuel Kramer, head of the firm, insisted he was caught “in the middle” between the Amalgamated Clothing Workers, which which he had a contract, and the A F. L. which called the strike.  Fortunately for Kramer (and the Army), the girls came back to work the next day.

Bon Marche, deemed by The New York Times as “a store known for its well-styled, inexpensive furniture, took over the building in 1955.   In 1960 the newspaper said that “while it is geared to young budget-minded people, it is attracting their parents, too.

“Customers of all ages can be seen toting anything from a collapsible Fiberglas screen to a small children’s chest out of this shop at 26 East Fourteenth Street.  Although furniture has to be hauled down a whole flight of stairs, taking a purchase home saves pennies.”

Bon Marche remained at the location until 1963; however retained space in the building for warehousing.   Then in 1990 the building was converted to a day care center on the ground floor, classrooms, gymnasium and locker rooms on floors two and three, and offices on the top floors.

In 1999 it became a condominium, with the New School acquiring the upper floors as the Parsons School of Design annex.  Following a 2014 cleaning and repainting of the façade, a health club took over the sidewalk level.  After having survived a period of rust and neglect, D. & J. Jardine’s remarkable cast iron façade is pristine once again.

photographs by the author

The Lost McCreery Mansion -- No. 930 5th Avenue

A carriage passes the mansion on the still-unpaved 5th Avenue around the turn of the last century as a coach approaches from the north.  In the background is the Temple Beth El at 76th Street  photo by Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult&VBID=24UAYW8V1F4N&SMLS=1&RW=1366&RH=629

In 1883 the New-York Life Insurance Company issued a $36,600 mortgage on the property at No. 1 East 74^th Street.  Construction started on a residence in what would quickly become Manhattan’s most fashionable neighborhood.  But the builder’s dreams were larger than his bank account and before the house was completed, the firm foreclosed.

The New York Times reported that “the structure, a small affair 40 feet by 27, passed into the hands of the company.  Another $10,000 was expended in the completion of the building, making the total cost to the company $46,600.”  The amount that New-York Life Insurance had spent building the house would equate to about $1.2 million today.

Later, in an article complaining about the mismanagement of New-York Life Insurance, the newspaper grumbled “It proved to be another white elephant on the company’s hands.  Years passed without renting it, and it was finally sold for $28,000.”

The buyer of the bargain house was wealthy dry goods merchant James McCreery.  He apparently had no intention of living in a “small structure” and set to work replacing the never-lived-in home with a more impressive mansion.  McCreery acquired the adjoining 60-foot plot on East 74^th Street, demolished the existing house, and began construction on his new home.

As McCreery’s mansion rose, work was underway on another being built for banker J. H. Schiff, abutting the house to the north.  The McCreery residence would face 74^th Street, taking advantage of the 100-foot plot rather than the 27-foot Fifth Avenue exposure.   The Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide noted that these homes, along with “the new houses that are in construction, make this neighborhood on the avenue a remarkably handsome one.”

By January 29, 1887 the wide and somewhat skinny mansion was nearly completed.  The Record and Guide said “On the northeast corner of Fifth avenue and Seventy-fourth street, opposite Mr. Pickhardt’s home on the cross street, is a handsome three-story and attic brick house with brown stone trimmings, nearly finished, belonging to James McCreery, the dry-goods merchant.  There is a peaked tower on the street side, and the design has a good deal of the original and striking character that suits the fashions of the day, while it is perfectly restrained within the limits of good taste.”

The McCreery family would not stay long in the new home.   By 1891 it appears they were leasing it to the Keyes family; and on September 12 that year, just four years after the mansion was completed, James McCreery sold the house to Dr. Edward Loughborough Keyes for $170,000.  The title to the property, as was common at the time, was put in Sarah I. Keyes’s name.  While the McCreerys had been content with using the address of No. 1 East 74^th Street; Sarah would slowly change over to the more impressive No. 930 Fifth Avenue address. 

Dr. Keyes was a highly regarded urologist and surgeon.  He served as President of the American Association of Genito-Urinary Surgeons and routinely published papers in medical journals.  Immediately after taking ownership of the 74^th Street mansion, his father, who had distinguished himself in the Civil War, arrived for an extended visit.

The Epoch, in August 1891, noted “Mrs. Edward L. Keyes of 1 East Seventy-fourth street, has cards out for Monday afternoons in January.  A special feature of these receptions will be the presence of Major Gen. Keyes, her father-in-law, who is spending the Winter with his son, Dr. Keyes.  The gallant soldier represents the best type of courtier and is as admired and sought after in the drawing-room as he was dreaded and feared on the battle-field.”

While her husband combated and studied urinary diseases, Sarah Keyes entertained.  Society pages routinely mentioned her musicales and afternoon receptions.  The location of the mansion and the doctor’s wealth and status resulted in the Keyes rubbing shoulders with Manhattan’s social aristocracy.

Among them was William K. Vanderbilt.  On August 25, 1893 he sailed into New York Harbor with his Glasgow-built yacht, the Valiant, described as “the largest and handsomest steam yacht in the world.”  The New York Times, the following day, said “The simple-minded Staten Islanders gazed at her in amazement, wondering at her being a steam yacht.  She looked more like an ocean steamship, and no small one at that.”

Sarah Keyes may have been a bit jealous of her husband when three months later Vanderbilt invited him on a 10-month cruise on the Valiant.  On November 23, 1893 the all-male party, with the exception of Mrs. Vanderbilt, boarded the yacht.  Included in the small, elite group with Dr. Keyes was Oliver H. P. Belmont, J. Louis Webb, Winthrop Rutherford, and F. O. Beach.  The party was heavily outnumbered by the crew, which numbered 62.

The nearly year-long trip was to take the wealthy passengers to Gibraltar, Alexandria, up the Nile, then to India, and Ceylon.  “It is thought that the Valiant will return to the South of France in time for the Spring season there,” reported The Times.

Dr. Keyes and the other guests could anticipate a luxurious ten months at sea.  The day after the vessel left Manhattan The New York Times noted “The interior decorations are very elaborate, and the staterooms and saloons are fitted up with luxurious taste.  The yacht is lighted by electricity throughout, is heated by steam, and can be cooled by iced air, there being an ice-manufacturing outfit on board.”

But no matter how luxurious the surroundings, and how close the friendly relationships were; it appears that living for too long in relatively cramped quarters may have taken a toll.  Or, as at least one newspaper hinted, it was a young American woman, Nellie Neustretter, “who is said to be the cause of the family troubles of William K. Vanderbilt.”

In either case, just four months into the trip, in March, it “was curtailed by the breaking up of the Vanderbilt party at Nice,” reported The Evening World.  Marooned in France, the millionaire guests were left to their own devices in finding their way back to New York.   The first to arrive home was Dr. Edward L. Keyes.

Reporters descended upon him on April 14, but he was diplomatically coy.  “Not a thing occurred from the first day to the last to mar our serenity and pleasure.  The party broke up at Nice just a month ago, and I think all can say that the cruise could have had no feature added to make it more enjoyable.”

The matter was not so quickly put to rest, however.  On August 29 a reporter from The Evening World went to Keyes’s office.  By now the doctor’s patience had grown thin.

“Well, well, what is it?  Talk quick.  Something about that Vanderbilt matter, I suppose.  What is it?” he snapped.

The reporter asked if he were correctly quoted regarding his initial statement that nothing occurred on the Valiant to mar the guests’ pleasure.

“Anything that I said about that trip is correct,” he answered.

Then the reporter pressed further, saying “But will you kindly tell me if you were correctly quoted in that interview,” Dr. Keyes exploded, firing a profanity at the reporter that shocked the female patients in the waiting room.

The Evening World quoted him. “’None of your----business!’ shouted the doctor, in a voice which could be heard all over the house.  He would say nothing more about the Vanderbilts.”

In the meantime, Edward L. Keyes, Jr. had graduated from Georgetown University in 1892 and in 1895 received his medical degree from Columbia University.  A urologist like his father, he would eventually be as well-known and influential.   On November 17, 1898 he married Emma Willard Schudder in a fashionable St. Patrick’s Cathedral wedding.

Edward and Sarah Keyes would remain in the Fifth Avenue mansion for another eight years.  In November 1906 Keyes purchased the four-story mansion a block away at No. 28 East 75^th Street.  He hired architect C. W. Romeyn to do “extensive alterations.”  In January 1907 he sold No. 930 Fifth Avenue to Simeon Brooks Chapin and his wife, the former Elizabeth Mattocks.

Chapin was a successful stock broker and real estate investor.   He had formed the trading house S. B. Chapin and Co. in 1901 in Chicago and the year before purchasing the Keyes mansion he moved its operations to New York City.  Simeon and Elizabeth had four children, Marietta, Elizabeth, Simeon Jr., and Virginia.

Like Sarah Keyes, Elizabeth busied herself with entertainments.  In March 1911 she hosted an afternoon recital by George Barrere, for instance; and on February 29, 1914 she “opened her house, 930 Fifth Avenue, yesterday for the afternoon meeting of the Thursday Musical Club,” as reported in The Times.

In December 1915 Marietta’s engagement to Harold Hartshome was announced.  The wedding took place on Wednesday afternoon, February 28, 1916, in the socially important Collegiate Church of St. Nicholas on Fifth Avenue.

While other Fifth Avenue millionaires spent their summers in Bar Harbor, Newport and other East Coast resorts, the Chapins held on to their Midwestern roots.  Their country estate was located in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.

The Chapins's conservative, Protestant beliefs were in evidence when they sent out more than 800 invitations for an address by evangelist Billy Sunday in May 1917.   The ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was reserved for the event where the preacher discussed “changing fashions in woman’s garb, craze for money, and ambition to hold public office.”

By the end of World War I the Schiff mansion next door had been altered and enlarged, overpowering No. 930 -- from the collection of the New York Public Library

At the time, socialites turned their attention to war relief.  Elizabeth Chapin kept up the work even after the conflict had ended.  With France devastated, she and her daughter Virginia, worked to help rebuild; and they turned to an unlikely source.  On January 27, 1922 The New York Times reported that “A children’s auxiliary of the New York Branch of the American McAll Association was organized yesterday at the home of Mrs. Simeon B. Chapin, 930 Fifth Avenue.  With her youngest daughter, Miss Virginia Chapin, as hostess, there were seventy-five little girls and boys from the leading private schools of the city in attendance.”  The children voted to “undertake the support of a number of war orphans in France.”

Elizabeth kept up the work providing aid to France at least into 1924, when she entertained workers for the “Fresh Air work in France.”

In December that year a 36-inch water main burst at the corner of Fifth Avenue and 75^th Street.  The resulting flood poured into the basements of some of Manhattan’s grandest mansions.  “Valuable antiques, tapestries, rugs and furniture worth thousands of dollars were ruined by the flow of water into the entrance halls and basements of homes in the section,” reported The Times.

As well as the Chapin house, the newspaper numbered among the mansions affected those of Mortimer Schiff, Edwin Gould, Edward Harkness, Clarence H. Mackay and John Wanamaker among many others.  “Nearly a foot of water poured into the basement of the Simeon Brooks Chapin home, 930 Fifth Avenue, causing considerable damage,” reported the newspaper.

In 1926 the Chapin children were growing up and leaving the mansion.  Virginia was among the debutantes that season and in August the engagement of Simeon Jr. to Elisa M. Bartholomay was announced.  Within two years Chapin conceived of  better use for the valuable property and the out-of-style house.

When this photograph was taken in 1929 one large apartment house had already been constructed to the north on the site of Temple Beth El.  The Chapin house and the two abutting mansions on 5th Avenue were on borrowed time.  photograph from the collection of the New York Public Library.

On March 9, 1928 The New York Times announced that he had bought Robertson Trowbridge’s house next door at No. 3 East 74^th Street.  “He intends to improve the plot with an apartment house from plans by Electus D. Litchfield, architect.” 

The modern co-op building would contain duplex apartments of “sixteen rooms and eights,” one of which Chapin had reserved for himself and Elizabeth.  But it was most likely the Great Depression that stalled Chapin’s plans.  The house survived until 1940 when it, along with the Schiff and Rentschler mansions, was replaced by Emery Roth’s 19-story apartment building.

photo http://si.wsj.net/public/resources/images/BN-DO553_NYHODK_J_20140707100625.jpg