The New Amsterdam Savings Bank -- No. 215 Bowery

As early as 1837 John Odell, “tavern keeper,” operated from the ground floor of the small hotel on the corner of the Bowery and Rivington Street. The tavern and hotel, under various owners and managers, endured as the Bowery neighborhood changed into the center of the German community by the 1850s.

The Germans established their own churches, newspapers, social clubs and businesses.  The New Amsterdam Savings Bank was organized in 1869 to serve the German-speaking community.   The names of bank’s officers reflected the personality of the neighborhood: Theobald Frohwein was President, John Riegelmann Vice President, John Guth was Treasurer and Jacob Rosenhain Secretary.

Within only two years the bank was successful enough to plan its own headquarters.  The old hotel property at No. 215 Bowery was obtained and on July 27, 1872 the Real Estate Record and Guide reported German-born architect Charles Kinkel had filed plans for a “four-story Ohio stone, first-class store” for the New Amsterdam Savings Bank.  Another German immigrant, Joseph Schaeffler, received the contract to construct the building.

The completed structure was, in fact, five stories.  Kinkel faced the Bowery elevation with stone, which wrapped around the Rivington Street side for two bays before giving way to red brick. The stone-faced Renaissance Revival design appeared again in the eastern-most two bays.  Kinkel’s dignified design included Renaissance-inspired pediments within the stone portion; and trendier lintels with incised designs of the Eastlake Movement on the Rivington Street side.  An especially attractive pressed metal cornice crowned it all.

The New Amsterdam Savings Bank’s construction project could not have come at a worse time.  A year earlier the German Empire stopped minting silver coins; a decision that lowered the value of silver, much of which was mined in the United States.  A chain of domino-effect events resulted in the Financial Panic of 1873, one of the worst and longest-lasting financial depressions in U.S. history.

On September 23, 1873 The New York Herald tried to calm readers, many of whom were already participating in runs on banks.  A headline read “RELIEF.  Calm and Order Returning to Wall Street.”  The article reported on the condition of every Manhattan bank, and included “The New Amsterdam Bank, Bowery and Rivington street, went on as usual, without any particular draw upon the deposits or especial lodgments by customers.  The officers were ready for an emergency had it arisen”

While the bank struggled on, helped by the unusual patience and trust of its depositors, the upper floors of No. 215 Bowery were leased as offices and lodge rooms.  In July 1874 the Arcturus Lodge, No. 274 of the Freemasons moved in.   Other tenants were Solomon Hertz, insurance agent; attorney Francis H. Rodenburg; and oddly enough, Charles A. Milner “artist.”  Unlike the other tenants who lived nearby (Hertz lived on East 4^th, and Rodenburg on Ludlow Street) Millner’s home was far uptown, at No. 550 East 82^nd Street.

While depositors clung to their faith in the bank, the New Amsterdam Savings Bank was faltering.  On September 30, 1876 The New York Herald noted “To the casual observer the New Amsterdam Savings Bank, at No. 215 Bowery, wore its wonted appearance yesterday.  When the information that an injunction to suspend business had been served on the bank it was expected that a ‘run’ would be the result.  Nothing of the kind occurred, however, and yesterday the vicinity of the bank was as quiet as usual.”

Instead, the cashier, Mr. Weber, told a reporter that “the depositors had perfect confidence in the announcement made by the President that the bank was capable of paying 100 cents on the dollar, and that the injunction and receiver had been applied for in the best interests of the depositors.”

The bank remained open until 3:00 that afternoon, as always.  But it never reopened.

The same year that the New Amsterdam Savings Bank was incorporated, 1869, another German-language bank had been organized: The Germania Bank of the City of New York.   The Germania Bank was faring much better than its competitor—so much better that when the receiver of the New Amsterdam Savings Bank put the Bowery property on the market in February 1878 the Germania Bank purchased it for $42,800.

As The Germania Bank set up operations in the new space, the upper floors continued to be leased to businesses and lodges.  In 1879 the Free and Accepted Masons of the State of New York published a list of “Lodges working in the German Tongue.”  Among them were the Germania Lodge and the Goethe Lodge at No. 215 Bowery.   By 1887 two lodges of the Odd Fellows were listed here—the Knickerbocker Lodge and the Empire Lodge.

In 1886 German-born architect William Graul had his offices in the building.  He was still here when he partnered with William C. Frohne in 1892 to form Graul & Frohne.

By now the Financial Panic had passed and The Germania Bank was performing well.  In 1888 Illustrated New York: The Metropolis of To-Day reported the bank's cash capital at $200,000, with a surplus of more than $300,000; “a fact that proves the soundness of its present condition.”

Along the Rivington Street side, behind the banking rooms, were stores.  In 1891 Morris Marks ran his hardware store in one of them.  In October that year the bank advertised vacancies in other ground floor spaces:  “Stores with Two Rooms—Suitable for any business; plate glass fronts; cheap rent.”

Although the Bowery was declining in the last decade of the 19^th century, No. 215 continued to house respectable tenants.  Henry C. Botty’s law offices were here in 1895 when the New-York Tribune described him saying he “was born December 27, 1854 of German parentage...He perfected his law studies at Columbia Law School, being graduated in May 1875, and was admitted to the bar in January, 1876, soon after becoming of age.  Mr. Botty has ever since been engaged in the general practice of the law and has a large clientage, especially on the East Side and among the Germans.”  Henry Botty was appointed a judge of the City Court by Governor Morton on July 30, 1895.

In February 1898 ground was broken for the Germania Bank’s new $200,000 headquarters at Bowery and Spring Street.  Later that year, as the new building was being constructed, President Edward C. Schaefer commented on the changing Bowery and his continued confidence in it.

On December 28 The New York Times reported “He remarked that there was a much greater volume of banking business done in the Bowery than many people imagined, and that thoroughfare was not altogether given up to dime museums and beer saloons and cheap dance halls.  There were a good many manufacturers, and also large business houses there.”

What Schaefer did not mention was the change in demographics of the Bowery.  A druggist across the street from No 215 Bowery commented in January 1907, “First it was American, then Irish, then German, and now it is Jewish.”

The change was reflected in the tenants list in the former Germania Bank building and by 1915 the influx of Italians was also visible.  That year Gutman &Co., tailors, was here, operated by Samuel Gutman, Abraham Lipshitz, Isidore Gutman, Louis Rosen, and David Wisch.  Another tailor shop was Gambino & Realmuto, owned by Guiseppe Gambino and Frank Realmuto.  And Robert D. Costello operated his New York Barber College here that same year.  The barber school would remain at the address at least through 1919.

In 1937, during the last years of the Great Depression, Manufacturers Trust Corporation opened a branch in the building.  At the time the Bowery was suffering its darkest years, earning it the nickname Skid Row. 

In October 1939 a pharmacy operated in front store of No. 215 Bowery (far right).  The second floor had already been altered.  The elevated train still runs down the middle of the Bowery.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Improvement finally, and slowly, came in the last quarter of the century when the area became the Restaurant Supply District.  In 1977 artist Todd Stone had his studio and showroom in the building.  And in 1985 a conversion resulted in just two massive apartments per floor (a decade later the second floor apartments were united as a single residential unit).

Although the lower two floors have been altered beyond recognition, Charles Kinkel’s handsome bank and office building survives beautifully intact on the upper floors.  

photographs by the author

The Lost Germania Bank Bldg - No 185 Bowery

By the 1970s the former Germania Bank Building (left) was sorely abused.  photo by Edmund Gillon from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/Collection/%5B183%20and%20185%20Bowery.%5D-24UAKVJRN5Y.html

In 1869 the Lower East Side was rapidly changing as the formerly elegant residential neighborhood filled with German immigrants.  That year piano maker Otto Altenburgh, who lived at No. 43 Avenue A, ran his business at No. 185 Bowery.  But his piano making operation in this location was quickly coming to an end.

That same year the Germania Bank was organized.  Serving the district that became popularly nicknamed Kleindeutschland, or Little Germany, the bank would put its patrons at ease with German-speaking employees.  The old building where Otto Altenburg made pianos was razed and in its place rose a striking four-story bank building.  Clad in stone, it reflected the French Second Empire style that originated in Paris about a decade before and was now taking America by storm.

Banded piers embraced a slightly projecting bay at the second floor. A grand arched opening at the third floor was flanked by two oval windows in carved stone frames.  Balconies, handsome scrolled brackets and French detailing declared that the new bank was a substantial operation.

The bank leased space on the upper floors to other German-owned firms.  Holzhausen & Co. was here in 1876, run by brothers George W. and Heran Holzhansen.   By now the Germania Bank was experiencing unexpected success.  The building at No. 185 Bowery became inadequate and in 1878 the bank moved to a larger leased space at No. 215 Bowery.

The former bank space became home to the Karl Hutter’s salesroom.   Trained as a tinsmith he turned his attention early in his career to bottle stoppers when he took a risk and purchased a patent.  He now offered “Lighting Bottle Stoppers, Lightning Fruit-Jars and bottlers’ supplies” from No. 185 Bowery.

New York’s Great Industries in 1884 said “Mr. Hutton is emphatically one of our self-made men, and has within a comparatively few years developed a trade of the most extensive character in a line of the most useful specialties ever offered to the business public.”

Hutter ran an advertisement in Puck magazine in January 1883.  (copyright expired)

The article praised Hutton’s Lightning Bottle Stopper for its ingenuity and its ease of use. “It is a universal favorite with lager beer brewers and bottlers, fruit canners and preserve makers, milk bottlers, mineral water, soda water and ginger ale bottler—in fact for all purposes applied to stoppers of bottles and jars…In his fine establishment at No. 185 Bowery, can be seen a full assortment of stoppers and attachments, also siphons made of French glass, with pure metal heads, bottle-filling machines, lightning bottle-washers, bottle rinsing machines, siphon-filling machines, corking machines, patent boxes for convenient holding of lagers, weiss beers, sodas, siphons, Rhine wines, bottles, etc.”

But the Bowery was changing by now, and not for the better.  James D. McCabe in 1882 wrote “The Bowery is crowded day and night with a motley throng…Wretched transparencies mark the entrances to the low dives, in and out of which a steady throng pours.”  The upper floors of No. 185 were transformed into a “lodging house” catering to transients of doubtful reputation.

One resident who seems to have tried to improve his lot was John Keegan, a slate roofer.  But in January 1890 he did not come back to his room.  Three months later, on April 22, The New York Times reported that his body had been recovered in the East River.  Ironically, in his pocket was found a letter that revealed Keegan’s fortunes were about to change when he died.

“On the body was found a letter written to Keegan from a lawyer, who has charge of the collection of between $7,000 and $8,000 bequeathed to him by a brother who died two years ago.”   John Keegan’s windfall would amount to about $200,000 today.

The following year “a short man with a large nose,” as described by The New York Times, checked in.   Estimated to be about 28 years old, he shot himself in his room on the morning of September 10. The newspaper said he died within five minutes. 

Investigators had a difficult time identifying the man.  “He had no money, but in his possession were a woman’s gold watch made in Switzerland, two empty purses, and memoranda which indicated that he had solicited orders for notion houses.”

Frank Edwards ran the lodging house in 1894.  In October that year it had 90 beds and he had an average of 60 lodgers, 30 of which he described as permanent.  Police visited the place that month investigating voter fraud.

To be a “permanent resident” and therefore eligible to vote a person had to have lived at an address for 30 days.  Unscrupulous political groups paid down-and-out men to vote for their candidate, using transient hotels and lodging houses as their addresses.  Edwards assured officials “that every man who had registered from the house had been a resident there for thirty days prior to Oct. 1.”

Despite Edwards’ assertions, the lodging house continued to be popular for voting fraud for years.  Charles Keller was arrested in 1900 and 1901 for using the address as his residence for voting purposes; in 1908 a man was taken in; and the following year John Ruppel received a three-year sentence in the penitentiary for same crime.

The dire circumstances of the men who slept here was evidenced on June 26, 1901 when 65-year old Edward Carroll attempted to beg money in the theater district.  The New York Times described him as "very feeble and carries a cane.”  That night he approached 30-year old William Jackson at he corner of Broadway and 32^nd Street and “asked for alms.”

Jackson refused and told the old man to go away.  When Carroll asked for help again, Jackson lost patience. “Jackson then says he struck the old man, knocking him down,” said the newspaper.

A crowd who witnessed the incident told the story to Police Officer Croker.  Both men were taken to the station house where Jackson told his story to the sergeant.   He filed a complaint against Carroll for vagrancy.  The old man was searched and “no money was found on his person.  He was locked up.”

Edward Carroll had survived longer than most on the Bowery.  The coroner routinely removed bodies from No. 185 Bowery and the deceased rarely made it past middle age.   On July 2, 1901 Jennie Lynch died here at the age of 50.  Four months later, on November 2, 35-year old Thomas Moran died.  August Emel was 58 years old when he died in his room on June 3, 1902; and Frank Greenwald was 45-years old when he passed away on August 15 that same year.

In 1916 the elevated train tracks were removed from the Bowery, allowing sunshine to hit the buildings and sidewalks for the first time in decades.   The New York Times described the difference the removal made to several structures.  Its description of No. 185 was odd at best.

“Down at 185 Bowery is a building with quaint curlicues of iron, over which are set queer dumpy lights of glass, old-looking and interesting, but until now not visible to the casual observer.”

In the meantime the ground floor shop changed hands several times.  In 1919 it was home to Cohen Bros. store fixtures and three years later to Joseph Benatsky, “leather goods.”

Thomas Calley, listed as a “workman,” lived here in 1927.  He had almost made it home on July 11 during a sweltering summer.  He was overcome with the heat and collapsed.  He was taken to Bellevue Hospital for recovery.

A few weeks earlier Frederick Martin had not been so lucky.  Prohibition resulted in numerous deaths on the Bowery because of “poison” bootleg alcohol.  Martin’s body was removed from No. 185 Bowery on June 20 and coroners suspected “drinking poison liquor.”  An autopsy showed the cause of death was “pneumonia, with acute complications, and alcoholism.”

Things did not improve on the Bowery during the ensuing decades.  By the 1970s No. 185 was known as the Savoy Hotel—ironically taking its name from the exclusive London hostelry.   The New York Times summed up the “flophouse” on March 30, 1976 as “a place where derelict men receive a night’s lodging in tiny, poorly ventilated and often filthy cubicles.”

Surprisingly, two years earlier Joe Overstreet and Corrine Jennings had taken over the 6,000 square foot former banking space for the newly-formed Kenkeleba House—what Black Enterprise magazine described as “an alternative arts and education organization.”

Kenkeleba House (it took its name from a Senegal plant known for its spiritual and nutritional value) offered “exhibition, rehearsal and studio space, as well as classrooms and workshops for literary and interdisciplinary events,” according to the magazine.

The ambitious plan of Overstreet and Jennngs in 1976 was to purchase city-owned building for conversion to artists’ living and work space upstairs.   The once elegant French-style structure was, by now, badly abused.

Ironically, it was the rediscovey and improvements along the Bowery that would spell the end of the old Germania Bank Building.  Between 2007 and 2009 No. 185, 187, 189 and 191 Bowery were gobbled up by Brack Capital.  In February 2010 the Germania Bank Building was demolished to make way for a “88,500 sq ft boutique hotel in Manhattan’s fastest developing neighborhood,” for CitizenM Hotel.

 

Rendering by Brack Capital http://www.thelodownny.com/leslog/2012/10/hotel-project-renderings-163-and-180-orchard-185-bowery.html

The chunky but handsome French Second Empire bank building had survived nearly 150 years as a reminder of a much different period of New York’s and the Bowery’s development. 

The 1898 Germania Bank Building - a 72-Room Private Home

The graffiti-covered Germania Bank building appears abandoned -- it isn't -- photo by Jim Henderson

Hundreds of pedestrians pass the old Germania Bank buildling on the Bowery at Spring Street every day.  Few, if any of them, have the slightest notion that it is not abandoned and forgotten.  Neither, it turns out, is the case.

In the period following the Civil War the area east of the Bowery filled with German immigrants, earning the neighborhood the nickname Kleindeutschland, or Little Germany. By the 1880s there were more than 250,000 German-speaking residents and the Bowery was lined with restaurants and beer or music halls.

In December, 1896, the Germania Bank purchased three lots at the northwest corner of Bowery and Spring Streets where The Marks Arnheim merchant tailoring establishment stood. An immense custom-made men’s clothing manufacturer and salesroom, Arnheim’s was one of the largest markers of wool suits in America.

Founded in 1869, the bank had already outgrown one space and now needed to expand again. The board commissioned German-born architect Robert Maynicke to design the new headquarters. Builders Marc Eidlitz and Son, also German, broke ground on February 4, 1898.

In the wake of the Depression of 1893 and the subsequent recession in 1897, Maynicke produced a building the oozed stability and strength. Working in the popular Beaux Arts style, he eschewed the expected cartouches and scrolled brackets to create a masculine, refined stone brick façade. The rusticated first floor of Maine granite featured a series of large, arched windows with fan-like stone voussoirs.

The architect chopped off the corner of the building, creating a chamfered entranceway with polished granite Tuscan pillars. A dentil cornice above the street level was nearly matched above the fifth, and above the paired, arched windows of the sixth floor an elaborate copper cheneau crowned it all.

On December 28, 1898 the bank threw its doors open for a private reception. Several hundred invitations went out to bankers and merchants who toured the new $200,000 building.

The banking room, 38 feet by 75 feet, boasted high marble wainscoting, Sienna marble counter fronts, bronze light fixtures and gilded detailing. The floor was marble mosaic and the furniture was of Mexican mahogany.

“The offices and rooms around the vault are fitted up handsomely;” said The New York Times, “all the woodwork is of polished rock maple, and the floors and walls are tiled. There are coupon and committee rooms and a ladies’ parlor.”

The secure nature of the bank and its below-ground vaults was attractive to more than one type of customer.  In 1912 Henry Vogel and his female accomplice who posed as his wife ran an ingenious jewelry theft operation by hiring girls and placing them as servants in the homes of wealthy New Yorkers.  Once inside the homes, the girls would rob the socialites of their jewels and disappear.

On November 18 of that year, both thieves were killed in a shoot-out with police in their rooms at the Elsmere Hotel.   Two months later, on January 29, 1913, detectives opened a safe deposit box in the bank's vaults where they discovered the couple's cache of stolen jewelery

With World War I and rampant anti-German sentiment raging, the bank filed to change its name, becoming the Commonwealth Bank on April 15, 1918. Just prior to the Great Depression, Manufacturers Trust Company acquired the bank and operated the branch at No. 190 Bowery until the mid-1960s when it shuttered the bank for good.

And then the story took a twist.

Entrance doors in 1976.  Photo by Roy Colmer, NYPL Collection

In 1966 when photographer Jay Maisel looked at the old Germania Bank building, it was “knee-deep in garbage and coated in soot,” as he put it.  By now the Bowery was a dead end for drug addicts, alcoholics and the homeless and the once-proud building was swathed with graffiti.

Maisel raised the $102,000 to purchase the building – all 35,000 square feet and 72 rooms – and set about creating a monstrous single-family home in the middle of Manhattan.

The Maisels' Kitchen -- photo New York Magazine

Today Maisel still lives in the bank building with his wife and daughter. The kitchen is in the area where the cook staff once created meals for the bank officers' dining room. The original 1898 copper elevator cage, polished to its original gleam, has been restored and works again.

The original copper elevator cage -- working again.  Photo New York Magazine

The photographer uses the first three floors as his gallery (although the first floor has recently been advertised for retail space) and the main living area is on the top floor.

photo New York Magazine

The building was landmarked in 2005 and the exterior has remained essentially unaltered since it opened in 1898. The unexpected and unique single-family home was valued in 2008 at around $50 million.