The New York Mercantile Exchange - 628-630 Broadway

Henry Newman, the principal in Henry Newman & Co., was an importer of tailors' trimmings and clothiers' supplies.   It may have been the news that the New York Mercantile Exchange was looking for larger headquarters that prompted him to embark on a construction project in 1882.

In January of the previous year J. H. Mahoney had purchased at an executor's sale the two old buildings at Nos. 628 and 630 Broadway, between Houston and Bleecker Streets.  The price he paid, $111,200 (around $2.7 million today) reflected the influx of commercial buildings along this section of Broadway.

Newman leased the properties and hired H. J. Schwarzmann & Co. to design a six-story commercial building.  According to the Engineering Record on February 23, 1882, the projected construction costs were $125,000; more than $3 million in today's dollars.  (Interestingly, while plans were filed under H. J. Schwarzmann & Co., the 1898 A History of Real Estate, Building and Architecture in New York City gave full credit to another firm, Buchman & Deisler.)

The building, completed in 1883, would have been little different than scores of other cast iron fronted buildings were it not for its eye-catching, unique ornamentation  The Aesthetic Movement was taking hold in America, appearing mostly in furniture and artwork.  The movement stressed natural motifs--birds, flowers, and leaves, for instance--and Far Eastern influences.  H. J. Schwarzmann & Co. took it from the drawing room to the facade of Newman's building.

The engaged columns of the ground floor storefront, along with those on each of the succeeding floors, took the form of bamboo poles.  Recessed panels on the side piers at this level were incised with stylized leaf designs.  Applied cast iron flowers to the side were slightly offset from the panels.

The remarkable decoration continued at the second and third floors with thin palm trees and clumps of calla lilies.  The trees terminated in just two fronds.  Like the cast iron plants on the third and fifth floor piers, the palms and lilies no doubt once sprouted from a now-lost cornice.

A decorative cornice once upheld the now-floating palm trees and lilies at the second floor.

The filigree panels forming Moorish-type arches that framed the top story openings were almost assuredly repeated throughout the lower floors.  One can easily imagine the overall delicate and lacy Asian appearance they created.

Newman had the architects incorporate the name "The New York Mercantile Exchange" into the cast iron facade.   And, indeed, that group did temporarily lease space on the second floor for offices and showrooms.  Newman moved his own business into the building, sharing the third, fifth and sixth floors with Cohn, Ball & Co., makers of boys' and men's clothing.  On the fourth floor in 1884 was clothing merchant L. Clark, and the two street level stores were home to Joseph W. Lester & Co., a hat shop, at No. 628 and I. Oberndorfer & Co.'s "gentlemen's furnishing goods" at No. 630.

Just after 4:00 on the morning of August 19, 1884 fire was discovered on the fifth floor.   Firefighters had the blaze out within an hour, but the damage was significant.  Both Cohn, Ball & Co. and Henry Newman & Co. had their new fall and winter inventory stored there.

The New York Times reported "When the firemen entered the building the upper floors were so filled with smoke that it was impossible to move about until the skylight on the roof had been smashed and the front windows on Broadway had been broken out."

Although the fire was confined to the fifth floor, as was often the case with 19th and early 20th century fires water damage was severe.   Joseph W. Lester & Co., for instance, lost $4,000 in ruined hats, and I. Oberndorfer & Co. suffered $5,000 in losses.

The pressed frieze of leaves below the cornice reflects an Aesthetic Movement motif.  The filigree frames of the upper floor windows, almost assuredly, continued throughout the facade.

The building was repaired and the former Cohn, Ball & Co. (by now renamed Ball & Co.) celebrated is grand reopening in March 1886.  The fire may have ruined Newman's plans for a long-term tenant in the New York Mercantile Exchange, however.  It completed its own building on Harrison Street that same year.

Ball & Co. had expanded, now taking several floors.  The New York Times called it "an immense store," and noted "down stairs is their retail department and up stairs the manufacturing is done."  The firm touted its "new and spacious stores" as having "the largest stock of fine clothing for men, youths and boys ever exhibited in this city."  Men's spring overcoats, "made of meltons, cassimeres and corkscrews" were priced at between $6 and $12 (a reasonable $316 today for the most expensive model).

Later that year Ball & Co. launched a clever marketing scheme.  For every purchase of $15 or over the customer would receive a Limoges clock.  On November 24, 1886 The Times commented "These clocks are really good time-keepers."

Other tenants in the refurbished building were clothing firms of Leo Schlesinger, Vanderhoef & Co., Rindskopf & Barbier, W. Hillman & Co., J. Klee & Co., Joseph Rosenthal, and Charles Simon & Co.

Tragedy repeated itself on July 2, 1887 when fire broke out again.  This time total damages to the various tenants amounted to $130,000 and it was apparently the last straw for Ball & Co.  The firm did not return to Nos. 628-630 Broadway.

Henry Newman's tenant list slowly reflected the migration of the millinery district from south of Houston Street.  In 1888 William McElhinney & Co., milliners, was in the building, as was Henry Zeimer & Co., "importers of artificial flowers." 

The Evening World, March 8, 1893 (copyright expired)

The apparel industry was stunned when Henry Newman & Co. declared bankruptcy in May 1894.  The Clothier and Furnisher reported that the announcement "produced an immense sensation throughout the trade, and expressions of sympathy with the defunct firm could be heard in every quarter of the market."

J. H. Mahoney still owned the building.  He died in 1901 but his estate continued its management.  In April 1901 I. Isaac & Co., "neckwear manufacturers" moved in.  Then in 1902 the entire building was leased to The New York Millinery & Supply Company.  Negotiations for that lease were most likely the cause of the $3,000 in alterations the Mahoney estate made on the building that year.

The firm advertised one of its Pattern Hats in July 1904.  The Millinery Trade Review (copyright expired)

The New York Millinery & Supply Company offered the latest in women's head wear.   Its new line of 1904 fall and winter hats was unveiled on August 9,  The firm tempted buyers saying "We are showing a most superb line of Ladies' and Misses' correct, artistic, snappy Millinery Merchandise."  The announcement added "Our famous $3.50 each Pattern Hats are wonders in value--each one embodying the swellest, latest and most popular New York and Parisian ideas."

The firm sub-leased space to non-competing tenants.  Among them in 1907 were Millen, Aikenhead & Co. makers of men's pajamas and shirts, Eisenberg & Settel, men's overcoats and clothing makers, (which moved in on February 1), and Proser Bros. whose hand-made worsted suits ranged from $7 to $9 that year.

Fairchild's Men's Wear Directory, 1907

The Steinfeld Brothers toy store was in the ground floor retail space.  They were doing a brisk business in Rudolph Fleischer's popular teddy bears.  Following a well-publicized story of President Theodore Roosevelt's 1902 bear hunting trip in Mississippi during which he refused to shoot a cornered bear cub, toy manufacturers like Fleischer cranked out thousands of the cuddly plush animals.

Just before the Republican convention in 1907 Steinfeld Brothers ordered another 525 dozen teddy bears from Fleischer.  The store, according to the New-York Tribune later, "figured that President Roosevelt would accept a third term.  Teddy bears would still be a valuable investment with Mr. Roosevelt in the White House four years more"

But to the management's amazement and dismay, it was William Howard Taft who received the nomination.  Despite their standing purchase order, Steinfeld Brothers told the manufacturer they would accept 20 dozen bears, but no more.

Rudolph Fleischer went to court.  He told reporters the bears were not bears any longer, but "white elephants."  The New-York Tribune reported on July 4, 1908 "Fleischer says they broke their contract, and now he wants damages."

The New York Millinery & Supply Co. remained in the building for years.  Its large staff of hat makers and shop girls was entirely female.  In 1913 it employed 31 women and two office workers.

In 1915 women's hat fashions--like New York Millinery & Supply Co.'s "Knickerbocker hat"--were decidedly less exuberant.  The American Angler, January 1915 (copyright expired)

In the years following the end of World War I the millinery and apparel districts moved northward.  The Broadway section just above Houston Street saw drastic change during the Depression years.   The store space became home to the Bleecker Trading Corporation, a check-cashing operation.

On the evening of September 4, 1941 Oliver Scherman was alone there when a gunman, around 45 years old, walked in around 6:15.  He pushed a revolver through the grill of the cashier's cage and ordered "Give me all the money you have."

The New York Times opined "He had apparently been watching the place for some time and knew when Scherman would be lone."  The cashier handed him everything in the till.  The thief left the checks behind, but took about $2,000 in cash.

Among the upper floor tenants was the Capitol Folding Box Company, Inc.  In 1945 that firm broke through the basement wall to connect to the building next door at Nos. 632-634 Broadway.

Fire once again struck the building in 1951, this one on the lower floors.  The architectural firm of Emery Roth & Sons was commissioned to repair the damages, including the construction of a new lobby.

Another brazen robbery took place in the building just over a decade later.  A holdover from the apparel manufacturing days, Rettinger Raincoat Manufacturing Company operated from an upper floor.  Until the second half of the 20th century payroll was customarily distributed in the form of cash.  It was a tempting arrangement for robbers.

On June 24, 1953 Bertha Rosen, the company's bookkeeper, returned from the bank with the payroll.  As she entered the elevator, two men pushed their way in.  One brandished a pistol.  They snatched the $2,569 in cash, wrapped it in a newspaper, and fled the building.

Beginning in 1940 the city had been plagued by a mad bomb maker who planted 28 devices, 23 of which exploded.   On December 1, 1956 six patrons were injured when a homemade bomb exploded in the Brooklyn Paramount Theater.  Three days later a surge of bomb threats sent police scurrying throughout the city.  The following day The New York Times reported "Thirteen new threats yesterday to bomb public places, including theatres, schools, an airlines terminal, a ship and an Army base, intensified the police hunt for a deranged perpetrator."

Among the calls was that received at 1:30 p.m. warning that a bomb was set to explode at No. 630 Broadway.  That call was a hoax and no device was found.

By the last quarter of the century this section of Broadway was dingy and neglected.  In 1981 Nos 620-630 Broadway was home to the Commercial Plastics and Supply Corporation, described by The New York Times as "the largest of a half-dozen plastics merchants clustered together."

But the neighborhood, soon to be known as Noho, was on the brink of rediscovery.  As former loft buildings were restored and rehabilitated, No. 628-630 received a make-over in 1990.  Today the strikingly exotic cast iron building is as remarkable as it was in 1883.

photographs by the author

The Leo Schlesinger Toy Factory -- Nos. 292-296 Lafayette Street

In 1889 Leo Schlesinger most likely surprised other businessmen along Elm Street when he supported the proposed extension of Elm Street to Lafayette Place.  At the time Elm Street ended at Jersey Street.  Lafayette Place began about two blocks to the north.  The public works project would necessitate the demolition of several significant business structures.  One of the buildings that would be affected was Schlesinger’s.  His toy factory at Nos. 129-131 Crosby Street ran back along Jersey Street and straddled the proposed new thoroughfare.

But on November 9, 1889 the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide reported “One of the most important briefs was from Leo Schlesinger, of Crosby street, the well-known manufacturer of toys and tinware, who strongly favored the improvement, notwithstanding that it would have taken 80 feet away from the front of his manufactory.”  Schlesinger argued that cutting the street through would improve transportation and, therefore, the city and its industries in general.

Six years earlier, on October 13, 1883, The American Machinist had reported “Leo Schlesinger, 11^th st. and Avenue D…will have a new manufactory of tin toys on Crosby Street.”   The toy maker had purchased the two lots on Crosby and three on Jersey Street from the Stewart Estate for $205,000 ($5 million in 2016).  He commissioned the architectural firm of H. J. Schwartzmann & Co. to design the toned-down Queen Anne style building, completed in 1894.

Schlesinger, who was also a director in several banks and other corporations, employed an average of 160 workers in his factory.  He leased extra space in the building to commercial tenants.  In June 1884 the Industrial Printing Co. was here, looking for a “First-Class job compositor,” one who was “accustomed to fine commercial work.”  The firm promised “steady position to the right man.”

The Crosby Street elevation, once the front of the building, is now blocked up.

There was one rather surprising tenant.  In January 1884, according to The Sun, “the United Hebrew Charities determined to take measures to save the poor boys of their race in this city from what seemed to threaten them as a common fate, viz., becoming peddlers.”

The Hebrew Technical Institute was formed and in its 25^th Anniversary booklet it remembered “four months later the sixth and seventh floors of a factory building at 129 Crosby Street were rented from Mr. Leo Schlesinger, who was to furnish heat and power.  There the school continued from May, 1884 to February, 1887.”

While the debate on the extension of Elm Street dragged on, Leo Schlesinger expanded his business.  In August 1895 he partnered with L. Stern to form The Stanley Cycle Mfg. Co.  Iron Trade Review reported the new firm would “manufacture high grade bicycles.  The company expects to turn out between 10,000 and 15,000 wheels per annum” at the Crosby Street factory.

Finally, in 1897 the city condemned and demolished the buildings between Jersey Street and Great Jones Street in the way of the Elm Street project.  Included was the 80-foot section of Schlesinger’s factory building, for which the city paid him a handsome $96,000.  But rather than abandon his reduced property, or demolish the remaining chunk and start over; he commissioned the architectural firm of Buchman & Deisler to remodel it.

On July 10, 1897 the Record & Guide reported on the filing of 11 building plans related to the widening and extension of Elm Street.  Among them were Buchman & Deisler’s plans for Schlesinger’s seven-story factory.   The Guide’s description was nebulous: “extension of rear wall and new front.”    The project would be much more.

The architects essentially flipped the front of the building—moving the architectural focus to the wider, newer Lafayette Street.   While harmonious with Schwartzmann’s Queen Anne-style Crosby Street design, Buchman & Deisler’s Renaissance Revival Lafayette Street elevation was more aggressive.  White limestone starkly contrasted with the deep red brick.  Handsome stone capitals capped the three-story brick piers at the fourth through sixth floors.  As an added touch, the architects chamfered the corner; a detail which extended to the cast iron store front.

More than a year after the Elm Street-Lafayette Street project began, businessmen were furious with the city’s delay in its completion.  On September 30 Leo Schlesinger was the chief spokesmen at a meeting with the Mayor Robert Anderson Van Wyck.  He presented the Mayor with three photographs “which clearly proved not only the incomplete state of the work, but the generally obstructed condition of the thoroughfare,” reported the Record & Guide.  Schlesinger called the conditions “disgraceful.”

Leo Schlesinger Company produced children's toys, like this Red Riding Hood tea set.

Disaster was narrowly averted late on the night of November 24, 1902 when the water tank atop the building collapsed.  Fortunately for the businesses inside, there was no damage; however pedestrians must have been startled when “water poured over the roof into the street,” as reported by The Sun the following morning.

By 1915 the area around No. 296 Lafayette Street was the center of the millinery and hat-related industries.  Leo Schlesinger had moved his operation to Front Street years earlier.  Among the businesses in the Lafayette Street building was Ignatius Buckman who manufactured hat making machines.

That summer he did a friend, John Treubert, a favor by storing $4,000 worth of velvet “for safe-keeping.”  But the 51-year old Buckman hatched a nefarious scheme.  He staged a burglary of his own factory, instructing several of his clerks to sneak out the valuable cloth.

When Treubert arrived at the factory the first week of June, Buckman sadly reported that his place had been robbed and that in addition to Treubert’s velvet, the thieves had gotten away with $2,000 worth of Buckman’s property.

John Truebert was not convinced.  He notified detectives who questioned Buckman’s employees.  Unfortunately for Buckman, they readily confessed to having followed their boss’s criminal orders. 

Police surrounded Buckman’s house at No. 283 East 164^th Street on the night of June 11.  The Evening World reported “when they were demanding admission to the front door he appeared at a rear window in his night clothing and was about to jump when he saw other detectives and stepped back.”  Ignatius Buckman was arrested for having burglarized his own factory.

In 1919 the Crosby Street store was home to the International High Speed Steel Company; while on an upper floor the Bristol Hat Company was among the millinery firms doing business.  One tenant not in the hat business was Geringer Brothers, a manufacturer of “gas and lamp shades.”

Isidor Geringer was working late with two employees on the night of November 27, 1920.  That night a series of violent hold-ups erupted in both Manhattan and the Bronx.  One of them would take Geringer’s life.

At around 9:00 three men wearing masks and long raincoats barged into the shop.  The employees were ordered to raise their arms into the air.  Geringer nervously watched as one of the thugs was taking $12 from the pocket of Louis Lobell.  He dropped his hands to his side and was immediately shot.  The New York Herald reported “He was taken to New York Hospital and probably will die.”

A bizarre incident occurred here on November 2, 1922 after fire erupted in the building.  Fire fighters poured thousands of gallons of water into the burning building, the upper floors of which were occupied “by various paper and hat concerns,” according to The New York Herald the following day.

Six fire fighters from Hook and Ladder Company No. 9 entered the building and began chopping through a wall.  What they did not realize was that the well-built structure had trapped the growing amount of water, to the point that the walls were bulging, according to the newspaper.

Finally their axes broke through and the firemen were carried away in the massive flood of water which was released.  “Three of the firemen—Wynn, Scheck and Matofsky—were swept down the stairs from the first to the ground floor, and after being dashed from wall to wall finally were catapulted into the street, landing in the roadway half conscious.”  The three others, Lt. Lamb and Firemen Murphy and Murray “narrowly escaped drowning,” according to the newspaper, by clinging “to the only substantial article in sight, a stair rail.” 

The tenants suffered about $20,000 in damages.

The wooden beams and columns survive where tin toys were once manufactured.  photo by Corcoran Group

The former Schlesinger toy factory continued to be home to various small industries for the next six decades.  Then in 1984 the upper floors were converted to “joint living and work quarters for artists.”  Today the lofts where tin tea sets and fire trucks were manufactured are luxury residences that sell for over $3 million.  Buchman & Deisler’s well-preserved façade survives nearly a century and a quarter after Lafayette Street plowed through Leo Schlesinger’s factory.

photographs by the author

The 1883 Wiehl & Widmann Bldg. No. 18 Beaver Street

photo by Alice Lum

In 1883 the old building at No. 18 Beaver Street was about to come down.  For years it had been used by businesses like Barnstorf & Co., importers of fruits.  But now German-born  restaurateurs Alfred Wiehl and Eugene Widmann laid plans for a new structure.  They commissioned the architectural firm of H. J. Schwarzmann & Co. to design and erect their new “four-story brick and brown stone store and restaurant,” as described by The Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide on August 18, 1883.  Schwarzmann estimated the cost at around $20,000; or about $450,000 in today’s dollars.

Schwarzmann had been responsible for designing the Memorial Hall and the Horticultural Hall for Philadelphia’s Great Centennial Exhibition of 1876.  The official guide to the exhibition called him “a gentleman of original thought and remarkable for beautiful designing.”

Schwarzmann’s design would stand out among its functional Beaver Street neighbors.  He contrasted the red brick façade with wide courses of carved brownstone and at the fourth floor introduced pilasters dripping with ornate floral decorations.  The attic floor erupted as a Northern Renaissance Revival  gable surmounted by a statue of Hebe, the cupbearer to the gods.

photo by Alice Lum

Wiehl & Widmann quickly became a popular destination for downtown workers and seamen.  The choice of the wine-pouring goddess far above the sidewalk was well thought-out.  The Evening World would describe the establishment as “wine and lunch rooms,” while The New York Times simply called it a “wine saloon.”

However termed, the restaurant--which took up at least two floors--apparently served mostly German food to the lunching locals, washed down with ample amounts of wine.  Meanwhile, upstairs tenants like David M. Kelly filled the office spaces.  A “promoter of corporations,” he operated from an upstairs office in 1887.  Udolpho Wolfe’s Son & Co., were importers of schnapps here; and Jonathan B. Curry ran an insurance office.

One of Wiehl & Widmann’s regular patrons was produce broker Hugo Mueller.  On Wednesday May 9, 1888 Mueller had a bad day on the floor of the Produce Exchange.  The Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported that “he was short on wheat and lost heavily by the advance in the cereal.”  Following the close of business Mueller “went with friends to the saloon, 18 Beaver street.”

According to the newspaper “Wine flowed freely.  Mr. Mueller remarked that he heard angels singing and added that he would inside of six hours be where he could see them, and poured some of Weyeth’s morphine pills, it is thought, out of a small vial into a glass of champagne and swallowed the contents.”

Mueller was taken home in a friend’s coupe, where he died in his bed later that evening.  Alfred Wiehl testified at the coroner’s inquest on May 18 that “Mueller, while at his place, mixed a powder with his wine and afterward became flushed and drowsy,” said a newspaper.

The stone trim has been painted white.  photo by Alice Lum

It would not be the last of the tragic deaths connected with Wiehl & Widmann’s.  Anna Schmidt was described by The Evening World as “a comely German girl, employed as a pantry girl in Wiehl & Widman’s [sic] lunch rooms.”  In 1891 she caught the eye of 22-year old Henry Schmidt (who was not related). 

When his brother, Julius, “paid her attentions,” Henry—who made his living as a cooper--became jealous.  On September 7, 1893 The New York Times explained “The rivalry between the brothers caused a great deal o trouble.  Anna preferred Julius, and told Henry to cease annoying her.”  The jilted lover left New York for New Orleans.  But two years later, in August 1893, he returned.

On the night of August 24 Henry Schmidt showed up at Wiehl & Widmann “and renewed his suit,” as described by The New York Times, “but was rejected.”  The Evening World reported “According to Anna he thereupon tried to drown his grief with drink.”   Around 7:40 that evening he walked into the rear yard of the restaurant and shot himself in the temple.  He died two weeks later on September 6.

The fact that Alfred Wiehl was so well liked was possibly because of the extraordinary efforts he sometimes made for his friends.  Among the seafaring patrons of Wiehl & Widmann was German Captain Kurt von Geossel.  The captain and Wiehl established a strong personal friendship and Mrs. Von Geossel was even a house guest of the Wiehls for a month in 1893.

Two years later, on January 31, 1895, The Evening World reported “There was gloom at the famous restaurant of Wiehl & Widmann, 18 Beaver street, this morning.  This was a favorite resort with Capt. Von Goessel, who is supposed to have gone down on his vessel, and there was a strong bond of friendship between the skipper and A. Wiehl.”

Capt. Kurt von Goessel was lost in a tragic maritime accident -- The Illustrated American, February 16, 1895 (copyright expired)

The vessel was the North German steamer Elbe and its sinking the night before would later be called by The Cyclopedic Review of Current History “One of the most appalling of recent disasters at sea.”  The Elbe was struck by the British steamer Crathie and sank within 20 minutes—taking with it 335 lives.  

The Evening World said “Mr. Wiehl displayed a photograph of the captain’s wife and their nineteen-year-old daughter.”

Happier news came on the night that William McKinley was elected President, when a baby was born to the Draz family, friends of Wiehl.  The baby was named in honor of the president; and as his baptism neared, Alfred Wiehl sent off a letter to the White House.

Washington’s Evening Star reported on March 19, 1897 “A funny request turned up at the White House today.  Alfred Wiehl of 18 Beaver street, New York, requested that a vial which accompanied his note be filled with water from a White House faucet, the water to be used in baptizing ‘Franze Mckinley Draz’ in New York tomorrow night.”

The Times of Washington added “Secretary Porter complied with Mr. Wiehl’s request and a bottle of White House water was immediately sent to the Metropolis in order that it might reach there in time for the christening.”

In 1907 the building was purchased by Harry K. S. Williams “of Monte Carlo, Principality of Monaco,” according to The New York Times.  That same year brothers Guido, Lucien and Albert Fusco began their own restaurant business downtown.  But for the time being Wiehl & Widmann continued on in the building they had erected nearly a quarter of a century earlier.

In 1912 the Slavic-American League had its headquarters in upper rooms of No. 18 Beaver Street.  It was here in August that year that Leonid Menstchikoff, a former member of the Russian Imperial Secret Police, told a Times reporter about corruption within the Russian police force.

“Everybody in Russian has to pay graft,” he said.  “Everything is under the supervision of the police, and the restrictions and regulations upon even legitimate business are so strict and impossible that the payment of graft is necessary to get tolerable conditions.  Here only the lawbreaker is compelled to pay graft.”

In 1913 The Real Estate Record & Guide reported that Alfred Wiehl and Eugene Widmann had hired architect Charles H. May  to renovate the restaurant.  The $300 in improvements would result in a “new grating and stairway.”  But the men would not enjoy their renovations for long.

In 1915 the Fusco Brothers moved their restaurant into the building.  It would appear that their landlord was now their partner, as well.  A few years later The New York Times would mention that Fusco Bros. “is owned by Henry K. S. Williams.”

Unlike the restaurants which were forced to close their doors with the advent of Prohibition; Fusco’s muddled on.  On July 2, 1923 the upstairs dining room was taken over by the United States Secret Service Staff for a dinner in honor of Joseph A. Palma, head of the service.  About 200 persons attended the tribute to the man The Times said “made a name for himself in rounding up counterfeiters and mail bandits.”

The restaurant’s ability to stay afloat even during Prohibition was possibly explained by a raid on Fusco’s by a “flying squad” of prohibition agents on April 14, 1926.  In reporting on the “padlock proceedings” The New York Times mentioned “Fusco Bros., situated in the heart of the financial district [is] said to be patronized by many brokers.”

The Mining Club occupied the third floor of the building until early in 1936.  A new club, the Bowling Green Midday Club, took over the vacated space.  It was a downtown businessmen’s group; and like many of the others focused greatly on providing an urbane place for lunch.

When the last of the Fusco brothers, Guido, died at the age of 77 on September 27, 1964, the Beaver Street restaurant was still going strong.  Run by his sons Mario and Guido, Jr., it survived at least until 1974

Today Wiehl & Widmann’s wine and lunch rooms are home to an Asian restaurant.  The lower floors have received a grisly modern makeover.  But the upper floors remain relatively intact.  The windows of the fourth floor have been reduced in size; but overall Schartzmann’s unique design survives.  And above it all Hebe still pours a cup of wine.

photo by Alice Lum