The Lost William Devoe House - 84 Carmine Street

 

The extension of Seventh Avenue resulted in a chamfered corner.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

Construction of the new Trinity Church was completed in 1790.  It replaced the 1697 original that was burned during the Revolution.  Historian Martha Lamb, in her 1877 History of the City of New York, noted that among the vestrymen who resolved "to set apart a pew in Trinity Church for the President" on March 8, 1790, was Nicholas Carman.  

Carman owned a large amount of land north of the city.  Three decades after he signed that resolution, streets were laid out on his property, one of which was named Carmine street, named for him despite the misspelling.  As early as 1827, Federal style homes were being erected along Carmine Street.  

Typical of them was 84 Carmine Street a two-and-a-half story, brick-faced house.  Twenty-feet wide, its entrance above a two-step porch most likely had narrow leaded sidelights and a transom.  Piercing the peaked roof were two dormers in the front and one in the rear.  The muntins of their round-arched windows created elegant, interlocking pointed arches.

As early as 1851, William H. Devoe and his wife, the former Susanna Hadden, occupied 84 Carmine Street.  Devoe was a principal in Devoe & Taylor, shipjoiners.  (Shipjoiners employed skilled craftsmen to manufacture the interior finished carpentry of vessels--like the cabinetry of staterooms, cabins, and such.)  

Living with the couple was Susanna's widowed mother, Catherine Hadden.  They rented unused rooms, as well.  An advertisement in the New-York Tribune on February 24, 1852 read, "To Let--The upper part of the House No. 84 Carmine-st.  Apply from 11 A.M. to 3 P.M.  Rent $160."  (The figure would translate to about $550 per month in 2026.)

The Haddens' tenants in 1851 were Albert Weber and his wife.  Weber was a well-known pianomaker on West Broadway.  The following year, August H. and Harriet N. Poe moved in.  Tragically, on Christmas morning that year, their only son, Charles Augustus, died.  His funeral was held in the house the following afternoon.

A son, William H. Devoe Jr., was born here on June 3, 1853.  

Catharine Hadden died at the age of 69 on September 21 "after a short illness," according to the New York Daily Herald.  Her funeral was held in the parlor on the morning of the 23rd. 

It might be that Catharine was the only musician in the family.  A week before her death, an advertisement in the New York Daily Herald read:

Great Sacrifice--An exceedingly fine-toned rosewood pianoforte, not three months used and fully warranted, with stool and cover, will be disposed of at an immense sacrifice, at 84 Carmine street, (on the Sixth avenue railroad).

(The Sixth Avenue streetcar was the closest public transportation at the time.  Varick Street ended at Houston Street and Hudson Street did not have a streetcar line.)

There would soon be another funeral in the house.  Little William H. Devoe Jr. died on November 22, 1855 at two years old.

The Devoes left Carmine Street around 1858, and their former home became a boarding house.  Living here that year were John H. Cooke, who listed his profession as "segars;" seaman Lewis Turin; and a newly-arrived woman from France.  She advertised on April 25, 1858:

A Parisian lady, having great experience in teaching her language, wants a few more scholars for private lessons.  Terms moderate.  Inquire at 84 Carmine street, near Varick.

The Moses Sammis family moved into the house in 1860.  Born in 1819, he and his wife, the former Harriet Anna Crocker, had nine sons and a daughter.  Son Clark Sammis would recall to the Brooklyn Eagle in 1909 that at the time of his parents' marriage, Moses "was known through Brooklyn in the old days as Colonel M. Sammis, and the product of the marriage was a very large family."

Moses Sammis's brothers were well-known in theatrical circles.  William and George were theatrical managers (George was the manager of the Grand Opera House).  Moses, on the other hand, took a more civic job.  He was a letter carrier when the family moved into 84 Carmine Street, and by 1864 he was a tax collector for the city.  

The parlor was yet again the scene of a funeral on February 21, 1864.  Three days earlier, Jay J. Sammis, the youngest son of Moses and Harriet, had died at the age of four.  Later that same year, the Sammis family moved to Brooklyn.

Perhaps because 84 Carmine Street was relatively remote from major streets, its parlor floor was not converted to a shop.  Owner John Flanagan leased the house.  Printer George Gregory and his family lived here from 1868 to '69, followed by another printer, Peter Vanbeuren.  Flanagan's tenants continued to rent unneeded space.  An advertisement in the New York Daily Herald on April 12, 1868 offered, "Furnished comfortable attic room to let--For one or two gentlemen or a single lady, for light housekeeping."

The advertisement was telling.  Because the attic was now being rented, the families obviously no longer had a live-in servant.  And offering a room to an unmarried lady was shocking at the time. It suggests that the neighborhood was already declining.

Joseph Lamb and his family moved in in 1873.  Lamb was in the furniture business with locations at 59 Carmine Street and 223 West Houston.  He was a partner with Richard Lamb, presumably a brother.  In 1878, son Frederick William Lamb was enrolled in the City College of New York.

While the previous tenants did not have a servant, the Lambs did.  An advertisement on May 20, 1880, read, "Wanted--A girl to do general housework in a private family; must be willing to go in the country; wages $12 per month."  (The monthly salary would equal $380 today.  And the mention of going to the country disclosed that the Lambs maintained a summer home.)

John Flanagan sold the house at auction on November 23, 1885 for $9,300 (about $313,000 today).  The ground floor became home to the Saint Bartholomew's Hospital and Dispensary following its incorporation in December 1888.  Its presence reflected the changes within the Greenwich Village neighborhood.  In its January 26, 1889 issue, The Medical Record reported that the dispensary provided "the free treatment of the diseases of the genito-urinary organs, both venereal and non-venereal, and of the skin."

The house was sold again in November 1898.  Mrs. Delli Fitzsimmons, who leased it in May 1904, operated it as a rooming house.  The following year, on December 1, 1905, the New-York Tribune reported that the tenants "were thrown into a panic last night when fire broke out in the cellar and filled the building with smoke."  Patrolmen Bunn and Walker rushed into the house and woke up the residents.  "As soon as the tenants were aroused they rushed from their apartments, shouting and struggling to get to the street," said the article.

Mary Sexon lived in the attic.  When she did not respond to the rapping of the policemen's nightsticks on the door, they broke it in.  "Mrs. Sexton was lying unconscious, overcome by the smoke which filled the rooms," reported the New-York Tribune.  She was removed to St. Vincent's Hospital where she was revived.

As early as 1910 a Frenchwoman, Jeanette Borrine, operated the "lodging house," as described by The New York Times.  Lodging houses were the lowest form of accommodations, and rooms were rented out on a daily basis.  No amenities other than a bed were provided.

On January 6 that year, a couple--Deaf Lilly and Billy the Gink--rented the attic room.  The New York Times explained, "the Frenchwoman, who had known her years ago, gave her lodging."  The newspaper said that Lilly once "was the beautiful wife of 'Big Barney' in the days when every one in McGurk's 'Suicide Hall' would push their tables back to the wall while the couple waltzed down the middle."  Lilly earned the nickname in those days as "The pride of the Stevedores."

But that was 15 or 20 years earlier.  "Big Barney" disappeared and Lilly resorted to prostitution to survive.  She was repeatedly arrested and sent to Blackwell's Island until, according to The New York Times, "she was scarcely admitted to the places where she had once reigned as queen."  Her new husband was a drunk and a brute.  The newspaper explained that he was known as Billy the Gink "because somebody once knocked out his right eye."

Two days after they moved in, another lodger, Maggie Whalen, told Jeanette Borrine, "Lilly took an awful beating to-night.  I could hear Billy walloping her."  On January 12, 1910, Borrine "began to worry at Lilly's non-appearance," so she entered the room.  The New York Times reported, "Deaf Lilly was found dead yesterday lying half under her bed in the little furnished room at the top floor."  The article said that police were looking for Billy the Gink.

At the time, discussions to extend Seventh Avenue (which began at 11th Street) south to Varick Street were being held.  In 1913, work began on a two-pronged project--the extension of the avenue and the construction of the Seventh Avenue subway.  Like a titan-sized lawn mower, the work cut a swatch through Greenwich Village, erasing scores of buildings and leaving others with sections sheared off.

No. 84 Carmine Street nearly escaped the project, although it skimmed a few feet off the western corner, resulting in the doorway and second-floor window to be placed at an angle.

84 Carmine Street (right) barely escaped the construction project.  Shelby White & Leon Levy Digital Library

Following the minor renovations, Vincenzo Cesareo moved into 84 Carmine Street.  He opened his Universal Scientific Institute in the ground floor.  Describing his business as a "school of hypnotism," he was also listed in the 1914 Directory of Publishers, Printers and Authors Issuing Books.

Cesareo's residency here would be short-lived.  On April 24, 1915, the New York Herald reported he was sentenced "to three months in the penitentiary for unlawfully practising [sic] medicine by hypnotizing patients into the belief that they were well."  The article said that Cesareo not only "used his own spiritual powers to persuade persons that his treatment was actually improving their health, but he employed his wife as the medium whose oracular utterances guided the patient to a cure."

A renovation completed in 1923 resulted in a commercial space on the first floor, home to the National Flexible Packing Co.'s general offices, and a single apartment in the upper floors.  

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The greatly altered, venerable structure survived until 1996, when it and the apartment building next door were replaced by a single-story structure.

The Lost Peter Amerman Grocery - 17 Carmine Street

 

image from the collection of the New York Public Library

The death rate of the yellow fever epidemic in New York City rose to 140 per day in 1822.  On August 24, J. Hardie wrote in his diary, "From daybreak till night one line of carts, containing boxes, merchandise, and effects, were seen moving towards 'Greenwich Village' and the upper parts of the city."  The population explosion of the formerly sleepy hamlet resulted in a flurry of construction of houses and stores.

Among the new buildings was 17 Carmine Street at the corner of Bleecker Street, completed around 1829.  (Both names were relatively new--Herring Street had been renamed Bleecker in 1828, and Carman Street had been corrupted to Carmine.)  A substantial two-and-a-half story structure, its Federal-style design included two dormers in the peaked roof, and an arched opening flanked by two quarter-round windows in the attic.

Peter Amerman, Jr. opened his grocery store in the new building.  It was followed in 1836 by William Nixon's dry goods store and by A. B. Hall & Co. around 1844.  The proprietor and his family did not live upstairs as might have been expected.  An advertisement in The Sun in October 1845 offered, "To Let--The dwelling part of house No. 17 Carmine street, corner of Bleecker--a desirable situation.  Apply in the store."   

Later that year, A. B. Hall was faced with an uncomfortable decision.  An announcement in the New-York Tribune on December 16 explained that a "committee" of dry goods clerks (a precursor to labor unions) had pressed "to get the consent of the Merchants generally throughout the City," to close their stores at 8 p.m. during the winter months (except Saturday evenings, Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve).  The move was generally agreed to and dozens of merchants signed the group's pact.  A. B. Hall & Co., however, did not sign the paper but gave "their word to the Committee, that if the Retail Merchants generally close they will do the same."

William R. McKimm took over the shop in 1850 for his men's clothing and tailoring shop.  (Neither he nor his clerk, William R. Greene, lived upstairs.  McKimm lived at 228 Bleecker and Greene at 43 Carmine.)  William McKimm devised a clever method of stirring interest in his new shop.  He told journalists of "mysterious knockings" and other supernatural incidents in the store.

On May 16, 1850, the New-York Tribune said that the "neighborhood of Bleecker and Carmine Streets was throw[n] into the utmost consternation last Saturday night."  The article said, 

In the clothing store of Wm. R. McKimm, 17 Carmine-st. at 8 o'clock, a number of persons being present, a large molasses cask crossed Bleecker st. from the store of C. S. Benson and rolled into the tailer's store about 45 feet, when it righted itself on one end.  At the same moment a tailor's goose [i.e., a cast iron pressing iron] flew like lightning through the store, carrying away the hat of Mr. Draper of 20 Madison-lane, and landing in the dry goods store of Mr. H. Hall on the opposite corner.

The article continued saying that a Mr. Peck, "a large fleshy man (weight 260 lbs)," stepped into the doorway to see what was happening and "was assailed in the rear by invisible feet and kicked...crying 'Och Hone! Tailor McKimm!'"  The lengthy article went on to describe fantastical details like "a strong smell of sulphur" and a Dr. Forrester who "saw the spirits frolicking while in a trance."  The new store owner's motive in publicizing the events was, perhaps, disclosed in the last line.  "The curious in these matters will be more fully informed by calling on William R. McKimm, 17 Carmine-st."

McKimm expanded his floor space by adding a two-story addition to the rear of the house.  In April 1852, he advertised  his "styles of clothing for the Spring" in the Sunday Dispatch, saying that his garments were "equal if they do not surpass others in the same branch of trade."  He guaranteed, "one trial will convince the most incredulous."  The Gentleman's Department was located in the main store, while the Boys and Children's Department were in the annex.

Michael McKimm, presumably William's son or possibly a brother, joined the firm in 1853 and remained through 1856.  

Meyer Hoffman opened his dry goods store here in 1861.  Living upstairs was the family of Moses S. Meeker, a carpenter.  The following year, the building was threatened.  On October 14, 1862, the New-York Tribune reported, "Last evening at 7:55 o'clock a fire occurred in the dry goods store of Mr. Hoffman, No. 17 Commerce street."  Hoffman's store suffered damages equal to $45,000 in 2025.  The article said it was "fully insured."

More than a century before ATMs, it was common for merchants to cash checks, especially for known patrons.  On July 8, 1865, Benjamin Greenfield entered the store and asked Hoffman to cash a check for $35 (nearly $700 today).  The New York Times reported, "When the check was presented [to the bank], it was ascertained that Greenfield had no account there."  Hoffman had Greenfield arrested, but whether he ever recovered his money is unclear.

Although dry goods stores mostly dealt in fabrics and sewing notions, Hoffman offered an interesting item in 1865.  In October that year, he advertised, "Wanted--Women to manufacture bed comfortables.  Come ready to work.  Apply to M. Hoffman, 17 Carmine street, corner of Bleecker."

On May 8, 1866, Hoffman advertised the season's "grand opening of novelties in dry goods" at "M. Hoffman's Dry Goods Emporium."  Among the fabrics he touted were "all-wool cassimeres for boys' and men's wear and cloakings to satisfy most any customer."  His "comfortables" were priced at "only $3" (about $60 today), and "white Marseilles quilts from $2.50 upwards."

Meyer Hoffman may have decided to change his professional course--from dry goods to real estate--in 1869.  On April 26, he advertised an 11-room house at 69 East 52nd Street for rent.  The ad noted, "Apply to M. Hoffman, 17 Carmine street."  Within months, the Solinger Brothers dry goods business had taken over the store here.

Operated by David, Isaac and Leopold Solinger, the store's significant business was reflected in a help-wanted ad on April 11, 1870:  "Wanted--Three first class dry goods salesmen; also one good window dresser.  Inquire at Solinger's, 17 Carmine st., corner Bleecker."

For some reason, Leopold Solinger dropped out of the business in 1872.  An announcement on August 5 explained that David and Isaac "will continued the business of dry goods at 17 Carmine street, under the style and firm of Solinger Brothers."  It may have been a hint of tensions among the siblings.  An advertisement for D. Solinger & Co. on February 9, 1873 suggests that Isaac had dropped out as well.  Among the items highlighted in the ad included, "A lot of French woven Corsets at 70c., and Thompson's improved glove-fitting Corset, $1.50, Mrs. Moody's Improved Corset, $2.75."  (The most expensive of those items would translate to $75 today.)

In the meantime, renters continued to occupy the upper floors.  Among the residents in 1875 were a Mrs. Pine, on the second floor, and John Lynch.  On December 18, The Evening Telegram reported that a "sneak thief" had entered Mrs. Pine's rooms "and stole $50 worth of clothing."  And a month later, on January 22, 1876, The New York Times reported that John Lynch had been arrested "for selling lottery tickets."

Lynch's surname reflected the increasing Irish presence in the neighborhood.  Another Irish-born resident here was John Kelleher, whose opinions on Irish rule differed from those of the New York Herald.  But when the newspaper initiated its Relief for Ireland fund in 1880, to relieve "the terrible suffering, actual and impending" of what it called the "cry of famine," Kelleher set his differences aside.  He wrote to the editor on February 5:

Ireland, always grateful, will ever remember you for your munificent gift and great effort to relieve the wants of her unfortunate children.  Although lately differing with you in your course on Irish affairs your generosity obliterates all grievances.  Please find enclosed $25 for the fund.  -- John Kelleher

The donation was a generous one, equaling nearly $800 today.

John B. Quinlan's grocery store replaced Meyer Hoffman's dry goods store around that time.  In 1884, C. L. Schnetzel owned 17 Carmine Street and the two-story building behind it (originally the boys' department of William McKimm).  Abram Levy operated his tailor shop in the latter building.  The New York Times explained the "six rooms above the first floor of No. 17 Carmine-street" were rented to six families.

At 8:00 on July 13, 1884, a fire broke out in Levy's store.  The New York Times said "the flames spread with remarkable rapidity in every direction, and speedily destroyed a partition between Levy's store and Quinlan's."  By the time firefighters arrived, flames were "bursting out into both Carmine and Bleecker streets."  Living "in the garret room" of 17 Carmine Street was Mary E. Lane, "an aged seamstress."  The old woman "lost her presence of mind," according to the article, and after escaping to the roof, ran back into the house and tried to get down the stairs.  She fell, overcome by smoke, on the third floor landing.  Happily, firefighter Charles Front found her and carried her out.  The other families "escaped to the street helter skelter."  Both proprietors suffered heavy damage, Quinlan's amounting to between $6,000 to $6,500.

Less than two years later, early on the morning of January 4, 1886, fire broke out in Quinlan's grocery store.  The janitor of the upper floors, John Toney, and his family lived on the second floor.  The New York Times reported that Toney and his sons, John and Maurice, "easily escaped to the street," but his young daughters, Britannia and Coralissa, 16 and 10 years old respectively, were confused.  Eventually, they "recovered their presence of mind" and "wrapped sheets around their heads and groped down the middle of the stairs." 

The family of Italian-born Angelo Cuneo was trapped.  (Cuneo's fruit stand was on the sidewalk at the front of the building.)  When Hook and Ladder Company No. 5 arrived, an extension ladder was raised to the window.  Cuneo passed his children--Maria, Carlo, Rosa, Giuseppe and Francesca--out the window before he followed.  The Times said, "a fireman took Mrs. Cuneo and her infant down stairs."  Once again, John B. Quinlan's store suffered significant damage, this time about $1,200 (about $41,300 today).

(Interestingly, Angelo Cuneo would develop his sidewalk stand into a fortune, earning the name The Banana King and establishing an Italian language bank, Banca Italia, at 28 Mulberry Street.)

In 1893, 25-year-old Charles Gengenbach worked as a delivery driver for John B. Quinlan.  "Then," said The New York Evening Telegram, "he was promoted to a clerkship."  At around the same time, Gengenbach "became enamored of a pretty blonde."  He told her that she could have "anything in the store she wanted."  He then provided an apartment for her.  The young man's romantic bent did not stop with that.  The Evening Telegram said, "Subsequently a pretty brunette took his fancy and he established her in a furnished room in West Thirty-third Street.  Soon another blonde captured his fickle heart and he supported her."

Obviously, Gengenbach's clerk's salary was severely taxed.  In May 1895, Quinlan suspected that his clerk "was living too fast."  He marked a few bills and placed them in the cash drawer.  They soon disappeared.  Quinlan had Gengenbach arrested and the marked money was found on him.  Gengenbach was charged on two counts of theft and he confessed that over a two year period he had stolen between $1,500 and $2,000.

John B. Quinlan operated his grocery store through the turn of the century.  By 1916, Leibowitz & Son, a novelty store, occupied the space and remained throughout the World War I years.

In the meantime, the congregation of Our Lady of Pompeii acquired the Greek Revival-style Third Universalist Church at 214 Bleecker Street in 1898.  In 1923, the city notified the church that its venerable structure sat squarely in the path of the coming extension of Sixth Avenue.  The congregation purchased the properties at 17 through 25 Carmine Street as the site of a new structure.  Ground was broken for the Matthew W. Del Gaudio-designed Church of Our Lady of Pompeii in 1926.

photograph by Jim Henderson

many thanks to historian Anthony Bellov for prompting this post

The Lost James and Martha Voley House - 27 Carmine Street

 

from the collection of the New York Public Library

James Voley, a drygoods merchant, and his wife, Martha, moved into the new brick-faced house at 27 Carmine Street around 1835.  Over the past decade, scores of Federal-style houses had been erected in the district as the population of Greenwich Village exploded.  But the 25-foot wide Voley house was a step above those built for working class families.  Handsome wrought iron basket newels most likely perched upon the brownstone drums on either side of the stone stoop.  The doorway, flanked with columns and sidelights and surmounted by an elegant fanlight, sat within an arched stone frame with a layered keystone.  Tall dormers with rounded hoods pierced the peaked roof.

Merchant class couples like the Voleys maintained a small domestic staff.  Something went very wrong within the Voley household on July 1, 1845.  The following day, the New York Morning Courier reported, "A person named James Voley, of No. 27 Carmine street, was arrested for violently assaulting his servant girl.  He was discharged on paying $35."  (Voley's punishment would equal about $1,500 in 2025 terms.)

27 Carmine Street can be seen at the left of the frame.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

James Voley retired that year.  After living at 27 Carmine Street for nearly two decades, he and Martha sold it at auction on March 15, 1854.  It was purchased by Jedediah S. and Georgiana Ryno for $9,100 (about $351,000 today).

Born on December 7, 1824, Ryno ran a butcher stall in the Washington Market.  He and Georgiana had one child, George Henry, born in November 1850.  Sadly, the year after the family moved into 27 Carmine, George Henry contracted what the New York Herald said was "congestion of the brain."  He died in the house on January 3, 1855 at the age of 4.

Jedediah Ryno's grief continued when his 26-year-old wife died on February 23, 1856.  Georgiana's funeral was held in the parlor two days later.

Ryno's brother, Anson, who worked as a carman, and his family moved into the house shortly afterward.  Anson was two years younger than Jedediah.  He and his wife, the former Nancy Lynch, had five children when they moved in, including an infant born on February 29, 1856.  Named Jedediah, his parents appear to have named him after his uncle.

Despite the already large population in the Ryno household, Jedediah took in a boarder in 1859.  Clara Hagney was the widow of Cornelius Hagney and she worked as a huckster at the Centre Market.   (Hucksters sold a variety of small items, unlike the more pervasive provision merchants or butchers in the market.)

Also living in the house was Edward Fitzgerald, whose relationship is unclear.  (He was almost assuredly not a boarder).  Fitzgerald died on January 13, 1859, "after a long and painful illness," according to the New York Herald.  His death notice on January 16 said, "His friends, those of the family, and of J. Ryno, Esq., are respectfully invited to attend the funeral this afternoon, at two o'clock, from the residence of J. Ryno, Esq, No. 27 Carmine street."

On February 26, 1860, Jedediah Ryno married Elisa A. Brainerd.  Anson and his family moved to 3 Minetta Lane shortly afterward.  Elisa's maternal grandfather, John May, was living with the couple by 1863.  He died on October 1 that year at the age of 77 and his funeral was held here two days later.

A peculiar and distressing incident occurred here later that year.  On November 24, 70-year-old James Gillegan was delivering coal to the Rynos.  The Sun reported that he, "fell dead while carrying coal into the house."

In 1870, the Greenwich Village neighborhood around 27 Carmine Street was filling with Italian, German and Irish immigrants.  Although they retained possession of the property, Jedediah and Elisa Ryno left that spring.  An auction of the furnishings was held on April 14.

The house was operated as rented rooms.  Among the tenants in the spring of 1879 was Nellie Gorman, alias Kate Raymond.  She and Jane Wildey, alias Mary Wilson, were arrested on March 9 that year, "charged with picking the pockets of ladies who visited the exhibition of the 'Midgets,'" according to The New York Times.  

The Rynos advertised the house in 1880, describing it as a "Two story, basement and attic, extra wide Dwelling, fine large yard."  It was sold to Georgianna G. R. Wendel for $10,000 (about $317,000 today).  She continued to lease it to a proprietor who ran it as a rooming house.

The "fine yard" of which Jedediah Ryno had boasted was a wasteland in 1926.  The back porch, or piazza, as they were known in the 19th century, survived.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Among the early tenants was Tessie McCune, the wife of Robert McCune.  The New York Dispatch said on July 24, 1881, that they "had been separated some time."  Their relationship, however, was deemed by the newspaper as "queer."  Although still married to one another, they had a client-prostitute arrangement.  Robert "visited her, as would a stranger, [and] she received him as such and took his money for the evening's entertainment."

On July 23, 1881, the two appeared in court after Robert accused his wife of robbing him.  According to his complaint, said the New York Dispatch, "in the course of the dallying the diamond came out of the finger ring, and he had his wife, mistress or whatever you might call it, arrested for stealing the diamond."  The judge uttered his disdain of both parties.  The article recounted, "The Judge said he thought the husband would be under arrest before a great while himself."

Tessie McCune was back in court the following month.  On August 20 The Evening Telegram reported, "Mrs. Mary [sic] McCune, a well dressed woman of No. 27 Carmine street," had been arrested for "stealing a breastpin from Joseph Deane."  The article noted, "Mrs. McCune was arrested some time ago on a charge of taking a diamond pin from her husband...Justice Bixby discharged her then.  To-day she was not quite so fortunate."  Although Tessie insisted that "she took the pin in play, not meaning to keep it," Justice Morgan held her for trial.

In 1885, the basement level of 27 Carmine Street was converted to a store.  Frederick J. Schmidt, whose family lived in rooms upstairs, opened a shoe business in the space.  The following year, on March 9, 1885, he advertised, "Wanted--First-Rate hand buttonhole maker on ladies' fine shoes."

Schmidt and his son, Frederick, Jr., changed course in 1897, now listing their professions as "fitter."  (The term could refer to a pipe fitter or to a coal broker.)  On October 10, 1898, an advertisement in the New York Journal and Advertiser offered: "A fine basement store, 16x41, in good business locality (wholesale or retail).  27 Carmine st."  Despite the change of proprietors, the shop continued to make and sell ladies' shoes.

By the early years of the 20th century, the former store had been converted to a meeting hall.  On March 28, 1907, The New York Age reported, "a number of Afro-American printers assembled for the purpose of forming an association for business, social and mutual welfare."  An early form of a labor union, it was named "The Negro Printers' Association."

In the meantime, several of the tenants in the upper floors continued to be less than respectable.  On August 25, 1922, the New York Herald reported that Samuel Petix, "a butcher of 27 Carmine street," had been arrested in a raid of a speakeasy on Seventh Avenue.

Within a few years, Petix would not have had to go that far to patronize an illegal drinking establishment.  On March 19, 1930 a hold-up took place in Charlie's Triangle Club here, described by The New York Times as "a restaurant and alleged speakeasy."  Thomas Reggione, who was 21 years old; Pasquale De Palo, 26; and 21-year-old Alfred Marino, charged into the place with guns drawn.  They had not anticipated the resistance the patrons exhibited.  Customers--men and women alike--fought back and chaos ensued.

The New York Times reported that Reggione was "caught and beaten by the patrons of the restaurant."  Alfred Marino, who was an ex-convict, engaged in a gunfight outside as he tried to escape.  He was shot dead by Patrolman James F. Rogers.  De Palo was arrested at his home several hours later.  Two patrons, Mrs. Carrie Schumacher and Frank Borgiano, who were wounded in the fray, were taken to St. Vincent's Hospital.

Living here in 1940 was 34-year-old Bernard Giacolone, who listed his profession as a chauffeur.  (The title ranged from a driver for a private family to a cabbie.)  He was arrested along with seven cohorts for "the alleged theft of about $50,000 of liquor" from the Equitable Trading Corporation on Hudson Street during the past four years.

A show window had replaced the two parlor openings in 1941 when this photo was taken.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

After the city told the Church of Our Lady of Pompeii in 1923 that their structure at 214 Bleecker Street stood directly in the path of the upcoming extension of Sixth Avenue, the congregation laid plans for a new church on the corner of Carmine Street and Bleecker, slightly northwest from its current location.  The buildings at 17 through 25 Carmine Street were purchased and demolished and in 1926 ground was broken.  The new Our Lady of Pompeii was completed in 1928.  

27 Carmine Street sat snugly next to the completed church and related building.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

On August 19, 1941, The Sun reported that the Wendel Foundation had sold 27 Carmine Street to the Church of Our Lady of Pompeii.  The trustees used the former house as offices and church-related activities.

Then, on August 4, 1965, The New York Times reported, "Plans for a new five-story headquarters of the society of St. Charles, which aids Italian immigrants, were filed yesterday."  The $200,000 structure, said the article, would replace 27 Carmine Street.  The venerable structure, with its elegant 1830s design and extraordinary history, was replaced with a decidedly less interesting building.

image via streeteasy.com

The 1827 House at 46 Carmine Street

Around 1827 carpenter Albert Berdan began construction on a three-and-a-half story house at No. 46 Carmine Street.  It is nearly doubtless that he worked in concert with another carpenter, James D. Brower, and with Seba Bogart who respectively erected Nos. 42 and 44 Carmine Street at the same time.  The completed dwellings were essentially identical.

Like its neighbors, No. 46 was faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone.  Its peak roof was pierced by a single dormer.  Further evidence that the three builders had worked together came on February 2, 1828 when auctioneer James Bleecker announced he would be selling the two new houses, Nos. 44 and 46, at a single auction.

The house initially saw a quick succession of owners.  It was sold four times between 1828 and 1834 when Kemp Godfrey purchased it.  He would retain possession for more than three decades.  

Mary Armstrong was leasing the house from Godfrey in the mid-1840's.  He may have been unaware of the goings-on here at the time.  On July 22, 1846 The New York Herald reported that Mary had been arrested and "indicted for keeping a disorderly house at No. 46 Carmine street.  Justice Roome committed her to prison."  

After that the dwelling became a rooming house.  But the removal of Mary Armstrong's brothel had not eliminated questionable nature of the tenants.  On February 25, 1850, for instance, The Evening Post reported "James Price, a boy bout 14 years of age, was found concealed in a house 46 Carmine street, last night.  He was arrested by officer Philip Journeux."

The ground floor was converted to a shop around 1855.  On May 31 the following year an advertisement in The New York Herald read: "To Let--The store and room adjoining, 46 Carmine street; has gas, counter, cases, &c; suitable for a millinery or other light business; rent $225 a year.  Also a neat room to a single lady or gentleman."

The monthly shop rent would be equal to around $575 today.  It was low enough to lure Mrs. Melville to relocate her millinery shop from Broadway.  

A cleverly worded ad slightly pretended to be a notice to a friend.  The New York Herald, December 4, 1856 (copyright expired)

She touted the low overhead as the reason for her affordable prices in a December 1857 ad:

A Cheap Rent and The First Quality of millinery--Ladies, misses, and children's hats and bonnets of the latest New York and Parisian styles, superbly arranged and beautifully finished...at Mrs. Melville's 46 Carmine street

The tenants' names continued to appear in newspapers for the wrong reasons.  Patrick Cassidy lived here in 1864 when he was seriously wounded in a bar fight.  On June 3 the New-York Daily Tribune reported "A row occurred late on Wednesday night, in the saloon of Patrick Gilbrire...during which Patrick Cassidy was stabbed three times in the head and once in the arm, by John Burns." 

The proprietor of the store where Mrs. Melville had sold hats now dealt in "fancy goods."   Fancy goods stores were slightly different from dry goods stores in that they also offered ribbons, stationery, inkstands, and such.  The owner remained until the fall of 1871 when he advertised "For sale cheap--the stock and fixtures of a fancy goods store, doing a good business; cheap rent."  The shop became home to the roofing office of W. R. Barnett.  His business was such that this was one of two locations in Greenwich Village.

The Commercial Register, 1874 (copyright expired)

In 1876 there were four roomers living upstairs.  Ellen Hanley and Catharine Rose were both widows.  John Williams was listed in directories simply as "laborer," and Charles Kron was a carpenter.

In 1881 John Murray, a machinist, landed a job in the Fire Department's repair shop.  His salary was $3 per day, or about $1,560 a month in today's dollars.  

Francis Davidson was here around the same time.  He tended bar at McKeever Brother's saloon a block away at No. 15 Carmine Street.  He ran afoul of the law on Sunday night June 15, 1884 when he served a glass of beer to undercover officer George H. Stephenson.  Davidson, "who appeared to be in charge," was arrested for selling alcohol on a Sunday and held on $100 bail.  Ironically, the New York Herald reported "One [McKeever] brother is an inspector of the Board of Excise, and the other an officer in the Third Civil District Court."

Thomas Wheatley and his wife, Mary, lived here in 1896.  The 56-year old made his living as a carpenter.  He was physically abusive to Mary, according to other tenants who informed police he struck her.  On the morning of July 5 neighbors saw Mary and later reported that she "was well."  But she would not survive the day.

Wheatley left their rooms at 2:00.  He later told a judge that "he left his wife in the house all right in the afternoon, and went out for half an hour.  When he returned, she was dead,"  according to the New York Evening Telegram.  Neighbors suspected murder.  Wheatley put the blame on liquor.  He told Magistrate Flammer, "She would drink whiskey and eat no food," recounted the newspaper.  "He had no doubt she had died of alcoholism."  The court was not so certain.  The judge remanded Wheatley on suspicion of murder pending the coroner's investigation.

Frederick Conrad, alias Frederick Roberts, and James Andres, alias James Roberts, shared a room the following year when they embarked on a campaign of crime and terror.  Posing as brothers, they were 19- and 25-years-old respectively.   The burglars avoided apprehension by breaking into homes in Westchester County rather than New York City.  On October 25, 1897 The World entitled an article "Booty By Wagon Loads" and detailed their eight-day crime spree in several cities.

"The Westchester Burglars" operated from No. 46.  The World, October 25, 1897 (copyright expired)

Following their arrest The New York Herald explained "in a room at No. 46 Carmine street the plunder was stored.  The pawnshops in the neighborhood offered a ready means of disposing of the goods."  The article added that "In the room at No. 46 Carmine street the detectives found a kit of burglars' tools and 120 pawn tickets."

Another 19-year old thief was Archibald Costello, whose brother, John, lived here.  On Saturday night January 6, 1900 Sarah Connors was walking alone Carmine Street near Bedford when Archibald snatched her bag.  According to The New York Press, "After getting the pocketbook Costello ran to his brother's home in No. 46 Carmine street."  But he had not anticipated the spunk of his victim.

The Morning Telegraph continued "Miss Connors picked up her skirts and sprinted in hot pursuit of the thief...Policeman Jackson, who had joined in the chase, pursued him into the rooms of John Costello."  Costello, according to The New York Press, "refused to open the door for the policeman, saying it was his home and castle."  Officer Jackson did not agree with that argument and broke in.  The "young robber was dragged, howling, from beneath a bed and placed under arrest," said The Morning Telegraph.

At least from 1902 through 1903 the ground floor held a butcher shop.  In 1904 John Elrand and his wife, Mary, moved their second hand furniture shop into the space from a little further up on Carmine Street.  The couple and their three children occupied the rooms in the rear of the shop.

According to The Evening Telegram on April 11, 1905, "they were able to make a fairly good living.  The man is said to leave the management of the business in the hands of his wife."  He also left the preparation of his lunch in her hands and he expected it daily at noon.  On Monday, April 10, it was not ready.

Irate, Elrand called Mary into the shop and expressed his displeasure by firing a bullet into her temple.  "He then ran to the yard in the rear of the building and turned the weapon on himself, inflicting three wounds in his breast," reported The Telegram.  Mary staggered outside to the sidewalk where she collapsed.  The youngest son, John, had seen the entire incident and ran for help.  The Call reported "They were taken to St. Vincent's hospital, where it is said that both will probably die."

It is unclear whether either or both of the Elrands perished; however John, Jr. who witnessed the tragedy, was still living in No. 46 as late as 1911.

That same year the Spinosa family lived at the address.  Their 16-year old daughter, Jennie, worked in a clothing factory at No. 9 Bond Street.  Trouble began brewing that year when one of the tailors, Joseph Nuccio, became enchanted with her.  Jennie's repeated rebuff of his attentions may have partially had to do with his physical deformity.

The 18-year old Nuccio, however, was not one to take "no" from a female.  After asking her to marry him several times over a few months, he finally resorted to her mother.  On September 30, 1911, he appeared at their rooms ready to extort a positive response.  "With him he had a revolver, a dagger and a bottle of poison, reported The New York Call.  Nuccio had underestimated Jennie's mother.  The article explained "Mrs. Spinosa lives on the third floor of 46 Carmine street and looks muscular enough to throw Joe downstairs."

The following day Jennie's uncle accompanied her to work "to tell Joe to stop making love to her."  Nuccio did not respond well to the advice.  "When Joe became belligerent the uncle, who is twice the tailor's size, tucked him under an arm and carried him, kicking and squawking, to the Mulberry police station."  Nuccio was held in $500 bail "to keep the peace."

But that peace would not last.  Two years later, on November 6, 1913, he was sent to the Tombs in default of $10,000 bail (a staggering $262,000 today).  He had attacked Jennie with a knife.  "It was said by the police that Nuccio, who is a hunchback, slashed the girl's throat on October 20 because she refused to marry him," reported The New York Call.

A 1937 renovation resulted in a single residence above what was then a carpenter store.  Tied back curtains suggest a well-kept apartment.  Note the horse-drawn laundry wagon.  via NYC Department of Records & Information Services

Before Jackson Pollock would make his mark on the art world he called No. 46 home from 1932 to 1933.   He moved into the two-room apartment of his brother and sister-in-law, Charles and Elizabeth Pollack, "over Elizabeth's acid objections," according to the 1989 biography Jackson Pollock: An American Saga by Steven W. Naifeh and Gregory White Smith.  The brothers squeezed their studios into the tight space.

In 1937 architect Federick S. Koeler was hired to renovate the building into a single family home above the store level.  That configuration lasted until 1960 when another project resulted in one apartment on each of the upper floors.

The top floor apartment was placed on the market in 2014 for $1.25 million--a figure inconceivable to the shady characters who lived in the building a century earlier.  With true real estate agent bravado, the listing noted that it "was once owned by Aaron Burr."  Of course, Burr had fled New York more than two decades before the house was erected.

photographs by the author

The Much Altered 5 Carmine Street

The Commissioners Plan of 1811 laid out Sixth Avenue beginning at the already-existing Carman Street in Greenwich Village, extending northward.  Carman Street was named for Trinity Church vestryman Thomas Carman, but, as happened with several other Greenwich Village street names, it became Carmine Street through consistent mispronunciation.  

Around 1829 Henry K. Campbell erected a handsome brick house at No. 3 Sixth Avenue.   Its paneled lintels suggested the added expense Campbell lavished on the home.  Three years later John Parr built two wooden dwellings at No. 1 Sixth Avenue and next door at No. 5 Carmine Street.   The rapid growth of the formerly rural hamlet resulted in the homes along the wide avenue to be converted to business by the 1850's.

As the 19th century drew to a close, Henry Campbell's 1829 house still reflected its upscale past.  No. 301 to the left has been given a brick veneer by now.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Thomas Turner ran his bakery in the ground floor of No. 5 Carmine Street.  In the rear yard, as was often the case, was a small brick house which was rented out to one or more families.  A tenant placed an ad in The New York Herald on December 23, 1852:  "Wanted--A situation by an American woman, as competent cook; no objection to assist in washing in a small family."

It may have been the same woman who placed another ad a year later, almost to the day, on December 22, 1853.  "A respectable young woman wants a situation in a small respectable private family; she can cook, wash, and iron, and can do general housework."

For several years daring families had struck off for California in hopes of a better life.  One of the rear tenants of No. 5 Carmine hoped to get free passage there in 1854.  Her advertisement read:  "Wanted--by a highly respectable young Protestant lady, a situation as lady's maid of childrens' nurse with a family going to California."

A 1857 advertisement promised the best ingredients.  The Jewish Messenger, (copyright expired)

Turner's bakery and the building next door were threatened by fire in the spring of 1860.  On April 25 the New York Morning Courier reported "a fire broke out at 10 o'clock yesterday morning on the roof of the frame building No. 5 Carmine street, owned and occupied by Thos. Turner as a baker and dwelling.  Damage around $50, insured.  The adjoining building, No. 1 Sixth avenue ...a big store and dwelling, was damaged about $100 by water; fully insured.  The fire originated from a spark falling from the bakery chimney."  

Archibald Davis and his wife, Catherine, lived with their children either on an upper floor of the main building or in the back house in the latter years of the decade.  On May 20, 1868 their youngest son, Archibald, Jr. died just before his third birthday.  The toddler's funeral was held in the house two days later.

Two of the tenants of No. 5 in 1871 were Joanna Walmer and August Sturteman.  For whatever reason both of them boarded the ferryboat Westfield at the Whitehall Street terminal on the afternoon of July 30 that year.  At around 1:30, just as the boat was about to pull away from the dock, its immense boiler exploded.  The horrific incident which would be remembered as the Westfield Disaster left, according to The World, 91 dead and 208 wounded.

Newspapers ran updated lists of the victims for days as bodies were recovered from the river or badly burned corpses were identified.  On August 2 The New York Herald listed Joanna Walmer among the dead, and the following day added August Sturteman to the list.

Later that year, on November 26, a position wanted ad appeared in The New York Herald that read "5 Carmine St., in the Bakery--a middle-aged woman as a child's nurse."  Her decision to change careers came at a time when the bakery owner was contemplating a similar same move.

On September 24, 1872 an advertisement announced:

For Sale Cheap--Five years' lease of Whole or Part of House and Fixtures for bakery and confectionery; old established place; on one of the best thoroughfares in the city. 

The new proprietor did not last long.  Nine months later, on June 25, 1873, The New York Herald ran an advertisement "Bakery For Sale--Doing a good business.  Reason for selling, sickness in the family."

By now the immediate neighborhood around the three buildings had declined.  Following the end of the Civil War Minetta Lane and Minetta Street, directly across the avenue, house the city's densest population of Blacks, earning it the nickname Little Africa.  The residents lived in squalor, prompting reformer Jacob Riis to rank Little Africa as the social “bottom” of the West Side of Manhattan.  He described the homes where the impoverished Blacks lived as "vile rookeries."

On January 4, 1878 Mina Morrell was arrested "on a charge of passing a number of forged checks or false tokens," reported The New York Herald.  The young woman was held on $1,000 for trial--a substantial $26,000 in today's money.

Mina's story, however, was not simply one of a woman gone bad.  No doubt shocking to the readers of the newspaper, she had lived at No. 5 Carmine Street with Philip Hoffmeister for about a year without the formalities of marriage.  When she met him she was a widow with a three-year old child and living in a boarding house on Eldridge Street.

"I was working hard in a restaurant nearby," she told a reporter.  "Hoffmeister was from the same place in Germany as myself, and he told me that he loved me and would take care of me.  Since I have been with him I have suffered nothing but abuse at his hands and my child has suffered also."

Mina explained to the judge that Hoffmeister would occasionally gave her a check to cash.  Having done so she brought all the money back to him.  The New York Herald explained "So far as she herself was concerned, she did not know whether the checks were good or bad.  She did know, however, that Hoffmeister always had a large quantity of blank checks in the house, and whenever he was short of money he filled out one for some small amount and sent her out with it."

With Mina's arrest, Philip Hoffmeister disappeared.  She told a reporter "I hope they will find him."

Henry Simmons was renting a room in No. 5 Carmine Street in 1884.  According to the New York World the old man wore a full set of false teeth--the same set that his grandfather had work for 30 years.  "He is naturally proud of them," said the newspaper.  But on the night of December 17 "they did not rest easy on his gums and Mr. Simmons did not sleep peacefully."  The following morning he had head and stomach pains, and then realized his teeth were missing.

"I have swallowed my teeth!" he exclaimed.  The World reported that he "ran as fast as he could to St. Vincent's Hospital for assistance.  The doctor procured his grasping irons, and was about to search for the molars when Mr. Simmons cried out again.  "This time he exclaimed: 'why, here they are in my vest pocket.'  And so they were.  Then the old gentleman trotted home again relieved of all pain and anxiety."

By the turn of the century Nos. 5 Carmine Street and No. 1 Sixth Avenue had been combined.  On February 27, 1902 Angelo Ortolano purchased the properties from Virginia Coyne.  In reporting on the sale the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide described the matching structures as "3-story frame tenement with store with three 3-story brick tenements on rear."  In June the following year he commissioned architect Henry Regelman to install new windows and rearrange the interior walls.  The renovations cost him the equivalent of about $24,000 today.

Ortolano added No. 3 Sixth Avenue to the group in 1914.  He renovated that building in September 1918.  Architect Anthony V. Bourke make extensive changes.  The plans called for the roof to be removed, an extension added to the rear, new windows, stairs and fire escapes.

The 1902 renovations of No. 3 Sixth Avenue erased any hint of the Federal style original.    from the collection of the New York Public Library

Beginning in 1926 as construction on the Holland Tunnel commenced, Sixth Avenue was extended to the south.  As had been the case with Seventh Avenue twelve years earlier, the city seized by eminent domain the properties in its path.  The extension necessitated the renumbering of the avenue.  Nos. 1 and 3 Sixth Avenue now became Nos. 301 and 303.  

The three properties continued to house ground floor shops while tenants of moderate means lived upstairs.   At the time of the address change S. F. Valentes ran his shop from No. 5 Carmine, selling imported egg timers.  Next door the seafood market of L. Ortolano had operated since before the turn of the century, while at No. 3 was H. Tesio's variety store.

By 1942 Abraham Tankleff's poultry store operated from No. 5 Carmine Street.  It was still here in 1946 he formed Glen Acre Farms Poultry & Eggs, Inc.

In 1965 owners Vito and Gilbert DeLucia hired architect Fedinand Innocenti to remodel the three buildings.  The project, completed the following year, resulted in a new facade, reconfigured windows and the replacement of the cornices and roof line of No. 303 Sixth Avenue.  Two years later an interior renovation resulted in one apartment per floor above the store at No 5. Carmine-301 Sixth Avenue, and one per floor at No. 303 Sixth Avenue.

The venerable complex, approaching 200 years old, is understandably overlooked today.  The 1965 make-over, while clean and attractive, successfully hides the remarkable history of the three connected properties.

photographs by the author