The 1876 Geo. C. Flint Building -- Nos. 104-106 West 14th Street

In the years preceding the outbreak of Civil War, the block of West 14^th Street between Sixth and Seventh Avenues was lined with brick or brownstone-faced residences.  At the time No. 104 was home to John A. Nichols, Professor Natural Philosophy at the Free Academy of the City of New York.  He earned $1750 a year in 1853; the equivalent of about $55,000 in 2015.

Two decades is more than time enough to radically change a neighborhood in New York City; and by 1875 the once-residential West 14^th Street had become the center of the retail furniture district.  That year the already-successful George C. Flint & Co. leased the former Nichols residence and the house next door at No. 106, from owner John A. Hadden.

Two years earlier Hadden had commissioned the architectural firm of William Field & Son to erect a high-class commercial building nearby at Nos. 39-41 East 13^th Street.  He now hired the firm to erect a new store for George C. Flint & Co.   The resulting structure, completed in 1876, was a near match to the 13^th Street building.

The Italianate cast iron facades shared identical pilasters with knee-high fluting, shallow cornices separating each floor, and attractive and unusual cusps at the upper corners of each opening.  But No. 104-106 West 14^th Street flexed its individuality above the fifth floor.  Here artistic brackets upheld the cornice and a wonderful scalloped and decorated architrave mimicked the Victorian furniture sold by George C. Flint & Co.

When George C. Flint & Co. announced its opening at Nos. 104 and 106 West 14^th Street on April 10, 1876, it described itself simply as “Manufacturers of Good Furniture at Low Prices.”  It would not be long before the firm realized it had underestimated the floor space it required.  By December the firm leased the house next door at No. 108 and hired architect Richard C. Jones to build an extension to the rear and alter the pitch of the roof, at a cost of $3,000.

While the Flint firm extended into the house at No. 108 (right), it stopped short at heavy remodeling of the structure.

Neither the press nor the furniture-buying public seemed bothered by the architectural disparity between the two buildings.  On October 26, 1887 The Sun focused only on the furniture when it reported “The George C. Flint Company’s display of furniture at their warerooms, 104, 106, and 108 West Fourteenth street, is remarkable both for its rarity and the elegance of the designs.  In parlor furniture they have everything, from the many designs in carved antique oak, mahogany, sycamore, and olive woods, to the light and fanciful sets in white and gold, of the styles of Louise XIV, XV, and VI, with gilded spindles of lancewood and pretty gossip chairs.”

A European furniture designer, visiting New York at the time, was taken with the Flint building.  On May 19, 1888 Architecture and Building published his letter to the editor which said in part “Perhaps the store of least pretentious exterior is that of the Geo. C. Flint Co. of Fourteenth street, near Six avenue…Yet the show-rooms of this old-established firm are most extensive and the way the vast stock is assorted on the different floors is admirable.”

The writer was impressed impressed not only with the display of the furniture—arranged by floor as bedrooms, parlors, etc.--but by the demeanor of the staff.  “Another commendable feature of Flint’s store is that intending purchasers may visit these show-rooms without fear of being molested, so to speak, by idle salesmen.”

George C. Flint also sold accessories, like tapestries and carpeting, by other makers, many of them imported.   But the bulk of its furniture was designed and manufactured in its West 19^th Street factory. The company marketed the fact that, as the manufacturer, it eliminated the middle-man.  Its tag line was “Buy of the Maker.”

Customers indeed had a wide variety of prices and styles from which to choose.  An advertisement in The Evening World on October 28, 1889 boasted of “some twenty patterns” of parlor suits, “exceeding tasty, so very novel and elegant.”  Prices ranged from $75 to $150—the highest price equal to about $4,000 today.  An even broader selection was offered by the more than 50 different bedroom suits “in ash, natural cherry, antique oak, mahogany, &c, at from $18 to $600.” 

Like all successful furniture dealers, George C. Flint & Co. kept abreast of latest trends.  On April 2, 1892 The Evening World noted “It is the fad of the time to affect furniture of the long-ago period of Louis XIV, Louis XVI, and the turbulent days of unfortunate Marie Antoinette.  And in those styles it must be said that the George C. Flint Co., 104 West Fourteenth street, display a wondrously complete line.”

The newspaper felt one set stood out.  “A particularly beautiful chamber set in decorated, enameled white and gold strikes one’s vision with its soft cream tints harmoniously blended.  Such a suit of interior adornments would transform miladi’s boudoir into a dream of delight.”

A year later the New-York Tribune reported “There is a rage this season for inclosed bric-a-brac cabinets with heavy plate-glass shelves, and these are found in gold and mahogany.  One piece is a reproduction of the sideboard used in the Prince of Wales’s out-of-town house at Sandringham.  There are also some special patterns in bedroom and parlor furniture.”

By the time the Tribune made its comments, the furniture district was relocating from West 14^th Street to West 23^rd Street, at the opposite end of the Sixth Avenue Ladies’ Mile shopping district.  George C. Flint & Co. was busy erecting a new showroom building on West 23^rd Street at the time.  On August 22, 1894 The Evening World reported on the new George Flint building. “What is said to be the finest and most complete furniture store in this country was opened to the public for the first time this morning at 43 and 45 West Twenty-third street.” 

Undeterred by the migration of others, Brooklyn furniture dealer Cowperthwait & Co. branched into Manhattan by taking over the Flint leases on 14th Street.  The firm had been in business since 1807.  Now The Evening World explained “The business in Brooklyn has grown to such an extent that a New York City house became an absolute necessity.” 

Its showroom opened on September 12, 1894 and The New York Times urged customers to visit.  “There are no duplicate pieces of furniture in the establishment.  The store is, in fact, a great exhibition place.”

Like Flint, Cowperthwait & Co. offered a broad range of styles and prices.  The Times noted that parlor suites, for instances, ranged in price from $25 to $300.   The third floor was dedicated to floor coverings including, “Wilton, Moquettes, Axminster, body Brussels, and ingrain carpets, rugs, and tapestries, linoleum, and oilcloths.”

As the article pointed out, only samples were housed in the 14^th Street building.  Actual stock was shipped from the company’s immense factory and warehouse on West Street.   On December 16, 1894 The New York Times explained that “The huge furniture vans of Cowperthwait & Co. of 104 West Fourteenth Street are stored over night in a building a short distance from the firm’s stores.  Before daylight each morning a dozen men run the trucks down an inclined plane to the street.”

On that morning at 6:00 all the vans had hit the street except for the “Elephant” van.  It took four men to control the brake attached to the axle of the mammoth vehicle.  John Peterson stood in front to guide the van.  Then near-tragedy struck.

The New York Times reported “When half way down the plane the wheels clipped and Peterson was thrown.  The forward wheel passed over his legs and threw his body in such a position that his head lay in the pathway of the hind wheels.”

The panicked, injured man felt the rear wheel make contact with his neck as the truck slowly descended the ramp.  “He grasped the wheel, and by an effort threw himself forward and to one side just as the brakes gave way and the heavy van plunged forward, the hind wheel just grazing him.”

Having escaped death by a matter of seconds and inches, Peterson was taken to New-York Hospital where it was found his right leg was fractured in two places.  When Cowperthwait management heard of the accident, it telephoned the hospital instructing them “to give Peterson the best of care.”

The Times opined “The unfortunate man’s Christmas will be as happy as possible under the circumstances.”

Cowperthwait’s success was due, in part, to its extending credit to families who otherwise would not be able to afford new furniture.  The New-York Tribune, on February 28, 1897, said the policy “has always been predominate in this establishment” and was a “keystone of its success.”  The newspaper added “And the tens of thousands of paid-up accounts upon the Cowperthwait Co.’s books, many of them extending over years, represent and stand for just that number of homes whose existence the liberality of this firm has made possible.”

Credit, said the Tribune, “is not an 'open sesame’ to rogues, for nowhere are they detected more quickly, but to honest folk is extended every consideration and accommodation, for this firm’s credit system is designed for such alone and amply safeguarded against impositions.”

By the outbreak of World War I Cowperthwait had abandoned West 14^th Street.  The building became home to the Knickerbocker Mail Order Company until it was taken over by the U. S. Government as military barracks.  The War Department Annual Reports, 1919 noted “Barracks at 104-106 West Fourteenth Street were remodeled for the Division of Military Aeronautics.  A heating system to serve these barracks was also authorized.”

Peacetime returned the former furniture store to commercial use.    In 1925 architect Jacob Fisher remodeled the interior for the School for Printers’ Apprentices on two floors and printing operations on the fourth and fifth floors.  The ground floor was remodeled for stores.

Today a mish-mash of commercial awnings and storefronts crowd the ground floor.  Although the upper stories could use some sympathetic attention, William Field & Son’s cast iron façade is little changed.  And the wonderful decorations above the fifth floor thankfully survive.

photographs by the author

The 1868 11th Street Methodist Episcopal Chapel - No. 545 East 11th St.

photo by Alice Lum

In the years following the end of the Civil War the area around Tompkins Square on the lower east side of Manhattan was populated with, mostly, Irish Catholic immigrants working in the nearby shipyards along the East River. The neighborhood increasingly saw the influx of Germans, however, who fled their homeland where unemployment, political and religious oppression and land shortages made life difficult.


Victorian ladies spent much time in charity work—an overt gesture of helping the poor; although usually at arm’s length. The Ladies Home Missionary Society was formed in 1844 and succeeded in founding missions in some of the most impoverished sections of the city, including the notorious Five Points neighborhood. In addition to the religious instruction, these missions provided food and clothing to the poor.

The Dry Dock Mission at the corner of East 9th Street and Avenue B was built between 1846 and 1847; however it was closed in 1864 when “the foreign population was rapidly gaining ascendency in the neighborhood and the congregation became discouraged,” according to Samuel A. Seaman in his 1892 “The History of the Methodist Episcopal Church.”

Yet The Missionary Society felt the area still needed a mission. Using the funds from the sale of the Dry Dock building as a start, the Missionary Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church passed a resolution on August 12, 1867 to construct a mission on East 11th Street. The Board, of which William Wiggins Cornell was chairman, gave the contract for construction to James C. Hoe & Co, and G. F. Coddington.  Architects William Field and Son, known best for designing tenement buildings, would design the building.

By now Gothic Revival was replacing Greek Revival as the preferred style of church architecture. Unlike James Renwick’s lavish Grace Church on Broadway or his St. Patrick’s Cathedral rising on 5th Avenue; this structure needed to be less flashy. In 1770 John Wesley had clearly laid out his direction for church architecture: there should be little adornment, if any; worshipers should be supplied with adequate air and light; seating should be plain and simple and, ideally, the sanctuary should be eight-sided for good visibility and hearing.

The cornerstone was laid on in October 1867 and construction was completed within three months. The New York Times described the new chapel as “modernized Gothic, adapted to the locality and its internal arrangements.” Composed of red brick, two stories high, the Gothic the handsome, simple building had a lacy, arched corbel table; pointed finials at the corners and center of the roofline; and attractive window hood moldings.

The sale of the Dry Dock Mission building had provided $9,697.50 towards construction, which amounted to $25,000. Another $5,000 had been raised during construction and on the day of the dedication another $9,000 was raised. W. W. Cornell’s brother, Jack Black Cornell, provided the rest of the money needed to pay for the building.

The architects followed the Methodist tradition of symmetry and order in its design. The entrance way was centered between two first floor windows while three second story windows lined up above these openings.

Within the year William Wiggins Cornell, funded the Cornell Reading Room. The magnanimous Cornell brothers had made their fortunes in the J.B. & W. W. Cornell Iron Works and were erecting cast iron buildings throughout lower Manhattan. The New York Times described the room on March 27, 1869, saying it provided “intellectual instruction and amusement for persons of both sexes, above fourteen years of age, who live in that overcrowded and poverty-stricken locality. Supplied with books, magazines, newspapers, stereoscopes, zoetropes, and other parlor amusements.” (A zoetrope was a canister-type gadget with a series of pictures inside. By cranking a handle and turning the canister, the pictures seemed to move when the viewer looked through a small opening.)

George T. Powell was hired in 1874 to design a one-story Sunday school and lecture room in the rear of the building. By this time the Children’s Aid Society was busy shipping indigent boys to the American West as part of its “The Orphan Train Movement.” The boys were inspected by local farmers, chosen, then put to work. The theory was that the boys were better off by learning a means of livelihood and by escaping the evils of the tenement districts.

In a less radical move, the 11th Street Methodist Episcopal Chapel sent indigent children “into the country for two or three weeks,” as reported in the New York Times on May 21, 1895. The grim poverty of the children was obvious when that year the Chapel pled for second-hand clothing for the waifs. “The mission is hampered in its efforts to get the children into the country by a lack of clothing,” said the article.

As the turn of the century approached, the settlement movement was in full swing in American urban centers. The movement sought to alleviate poverty by educating the poor, including women and children, and introducing them to culture. In 1899 the church purchased the tenement building next door at No. 543 East 11th Street and hired architects Louis E. Jallade and Joel D. Barber to renovate and enlarge it. The new facility would have classrooms, a gymnasium, nursery, baths and a kindergarten. While they were at it, the firm moved the entrance to the church from the center to the left.

Although the architects matched the new window, where the original door had been, with the existing Gothic Revival windows; they disregarded the style entirely for the new doorway. Using instead the highly popular Colonial Revival style, they plopped a heavy stone lintel with splayed keystones upon a frame of brick quoins.

Renovations were completed in 1901 and the church and classroom building were opened; now called the People’s Home Church and Settlement. The settlement catered to the poor German and Italian immigrants in the neighborhood and offered services in both languages. The facility offered industrial classes, lessons in instrumental and vocal music, social clubs, a “fresh air program,” and a reading room.

The day nursery, opened in 1905, allowed women to work outside their homes without worrying about their children. By 1927 the congregation was, according to the Methodist New York East Conference Minutes, “almost entirely of foreign extraction.”

Despite its good works and the ongoing needs of the community, the People’s Home Church and Settlement closed its doors in 1930.

The building in 1930, the year The People's Home Church and Settlement closed its doors -- photo NYPL Collection

A Russian church began worshiping in the building the following year. In 1941 the Methodist Episcopal Church sold the church and the accompanying building at No. 543 to the Russian Ukrainian Polish Pentecostal Church. Although the Polish and Ukrainian factions established their own buildings later, the Russian congregation remained, conducting services in both Russian and English. In 1983 they renamed the church the Evangelical Christian Church.

Finally, in 1998, The Father’s Heart Ministries merged with the church, creating The Father’s Heart Ministry Center. Continuing the community-focused work upon which the building was founded, the Center provides family crises prevention and recovery, classes (including English as a Second Language), GED instruction, job training, hunger prevention programs and religious instruction.

The unassuming little church on East 11th Street which the AIA Guide to New York City calls “dignified eclecticism,” is remarkably preserved. Its quiet architecture does not scream for attention, exactly as the architects intended; but it should not be overlooked.