The Nippon Club (Iglesia Adventista) -- 161 West 93rd Street

 

photograph by Jim Henderson

On May 14, 1905, The New York Times reported, “Leading Japanese residents of New York yesterday organized the Nippon Club, which will occupy a handsome house at 44 West Eighty-fifth Street, now a private residence.”  The newspaper noted that the Nippon Club would be the only large organization of its kind outside Japan.  “The membership will include Japanese bankers and merchants, those represented in the professions and the Government service.”  The club was founded by Japanese chemist Jōkichi Takamine.  (His development of the enzyme taka diastase, which breaks down starch, had garnered him a fortune of $30 million, according to the Japan Times decades later.)

After having leased the West 85th Street house for six years, on November 18, 1911, the Record & Guide reported that the Nippon Club had purchased the houses at 161 through 165 West 93rd Street, noting, "A 3-story clubhouse will be erected from designs by John V. Van Pelt."  Instead of demolishing the structures, however, on March 1, 1912, The Sun reported that Van Pelt had "filed plans for extensive alterations to the three three story dwellings," adding, "The entire interior will be remodelled [sic] and the facade rebuilt."

The interior, after the removal of all party walls, will have a large public dining room on the main floor, with a Sukiyaki room on the third floor and several large reception rooms.  All of these rooms are to be finished in cedar wood, being carved and designed in the Japanese style.  The three buildings will be converted into one structure, with the main entrance in the middle.

The renovations cost the club $30,000, or about $972,000 in 2025 terms.  Van Pelt blended the Chicago School and Arts & Crafts styles.  Interestingly, his plans included faience (glazed ceramic tiles) "under and over each window."  Instead, the final geometric designs were all done in two-toned brick.  Stealing Van Pelt's architectural show was the projecting cornice, described by Edison Monthly in 1915 as "the only discoverable hint of Asia."  Indeed, according to The Sun, "The roof will be of the peaked style covered with corrugated terra cotta tile, thereby giving the building its pagoda appearance."

image by frog17 via wikimapia.org

The Nippon Club moved into its new home in September 1912.  The Japan Society Bulletin said it, "boasts all American fittings from billiard room to office, in addition to several floors furnished in Japanese style, where the tired business men feel again the spell of home in far Nippon."  As the bulletin suggested, the motif was expectedly Japanese with fusuma, or sliding screen doors, and Japanese-style furnishings including teakwood tables, bronze statues, and hand-made Japanese lanterns.  There were a ballroom, billiards room, library, dining room, smoking room, and parlors.  

Obviously, not all of the furnishings were Japanese in style.  postcard image courtesy of Lynne Miller

Items brought from the former clubhouse, according to The Sun, were "paintings on silk and velvet, fine specimens of the pillar print or kakemono-ye, a lot of tableware, including sets of beautiful, fragile Imari and lacquered tables and dishes."  The article noted, "The thing that the club places most value upon, for patriotic reasons, is a scroll from the Mikado presented to the club by Admiral Count Togo, last and most distinguished of Japanese visitors."

The club was fashioned after exclusive New York gentlemen's clubs, and The Sun remarked on January 21, 1912, "The first thing that will strike the curious inquirer is the astonishing resemblance the club bears to American clubs of the best type."  One notable difference, however, was the tradition that members honored upon arriving.  "But the Japanese member is not so likely to insist upon its ranking as upon the great comfort if affords.  To the Nippon he may go at evening after the day's work is done and slip on his night gown and rest," said The Sun.  The article explained:

Not our kind of night gown, but a ukata [sic], which is a loosely, hanging kimono of light weight material that drops straight from the shoulders and is girt about the waist by a thin cord.  The ukata [sic] is cool and comfortable.

The club routinely hosted dignitaries and countrymen.  On the evening of February 24, 1915, the Nippon Club held a dinner for visiting officers of the Japanese Navy.  Among the members present were the Consulate General of Japan, T. Nakamura; and several Japanese-born bankers.  Not invited was a young man, Yataro Tanaka, who "wanted to pay his respects to the officers," according to The Sun.  In attempting to do so, he upset the traditional decorum within the club.  According to the club's manager, A. H. Ohnishi, at 10:30, "He rushed into our parlor, where was thirty-one full dressed guests, and spoiled all their happiness."  

Tanaka was ousted, but two hours later he returned.  He broke into the front door, creating chaos amid the dignified event.  In the West Side Court, A. H. Ohnishi complained that he, "broke our front door and got into our club house.  He threatened our men by the violation at so late last night and there was no reason with him to do such things."  Tanaka was fined $5 for disorderly conduct.

postcard image courtesy of Lynne Miller

Consul General Nakamura and other members hosted a dinner on November 30 that year in honor of Baron Ei-ichi Shibusawa.  He was described by The Sun as the "foremost business man of Japan" and "to whom more than to any other his nation owes her commercial and industrial transformation, hater of jingoes, friend of peace and of America."  Shibusawa spoke on the ongoing war in Europe, congratulating America "on being the only world power that is not in the great war."  Ironically, given the events that would unfold nearly three decades later, he predicted that Japan and America "will be able to do much in preventing the recurrence of such disastrous calamities to humanity in the future."

The Nippon Club continued to host eminent visitors.  In September 1917, Viscount Ishii "and the other members of the Imperial Japanese Commission" were guests here; on the evening of July 23, 1918, a dinner was held in honor of Prince Yoshihisa Tokugawa; and on November 17 that year, the club hosted a dinner for visiting retired Japanese Army Colonel H. H. Hirayama.

On July 23, 1922, The New York Times reported that Jōkichi Takamine had died, saying he "founded the Nippon Club" and was "widely known for his work for friendly relations between Japan and United States."  Takamine's body was brought to the Nippon Club for a memorial service on July 24.  The New York Times reported that his casket, upon which were crossed Japanese and United States flags, was "surrounded by more than three hundred floral pieces from prominent Japanese and American friends."  The following morning, Takamine's body was taken to St. Patrick's Cathedral for his funeral.

postcard image courtesy of Lynne Miller

Prince and Princess Tokugawa visited New York in 1931.  On April 13, The New York Times reported, "The Nippon Club at 161 West Ninety-third Street, composed of leading members of the Japanese colony here, was eager to have the royal couple visit their clubhouse, and the Prince and Princess found time to do it."  

Three years later, the Prince was back.  On February 27, 1934, The New York Times announced, "Prince Iyesato Tokugawa last night extended greetings to his countrymen in New York at a dinner held in the Nippon Club...The speeches were in Japanese."

On February 11, 1940, a celebration of the 2,600th anniversary of the founding of the Japanese Empire was held here.  The New York Times said that 250 members made "solemn pledges of fealty to Emperor Hirohito."  Consul General Kaname Wakasugi conducted the event.  "Later they rejoiced over buffet tables laden with native delicacies, sang folk songs and toasted the world's oldest dynasty in sake, a rice wine."

A Japanese flag hangs above the entrance awning.  postcard image courtesy by Lynne Miller

Later that year, the clubhouse became involved in at least one Nazi espionage incident.  Born in Germany, William Sebold  became a naturalized U.S. citizen in 1936 and worked in aircraft and industrial plants.  Three years later, he was approached by the Gestapo who persuaded him to cooperate with the Reich.  In the meantime, Everett Minster Roeder was a draftsman who designed materials for the U.S. Army and Navy.  Sebold delivered German instructions to Roeder in various places throughout the city.  According to Norman Ridley in his Spying for Hitler: Nazis Who Infiltrated America, "At the end of October 1940, Sebold received instructions from Germany to send Roeder to a rendezvous at the Nippon Club at 161 West 93rd Street.  This would reveal yet another method that the Abwehr were employing to have stolen documents transported safely back to Germany."

On December 7, 1941, the Japanese launched a surprise attack on the United States fleet at Pearl Harbor.  American reaction was swift.  The next day, The New York Times published a photograph of the steward of the Nippon Club locking the doors under the watchful glare of a policeman.

The New York Times, December 8, 1941

The newspaper reported, "The Nippon Club at 161 West Ninety-third Street was closed by the police.  Twelve Japanese who were there when the police came were escorted to their homes.  Silent crowds watched their departure.  There were no demonstrations."

The clubhouse was seized by the Office of the Alien Property Custodian and it sat dark for more than two years.  On February 6, 1944, The New York Times reported that the Alien Property Custodian had sold the building to the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks.  The article noted that the lodge "would be occupied some time in April after alterations."

Two weeks later, on February 21, an auction of the contents of the Nippon Club was held.  Rampant anti-Japanese sentiments, however, greatly affected the bidding of the rare and valuable items, including eight ceremonial Japanese swords and the custom-made furniture.  A spokesman said, "nobody seemed to be very interested."

The prediction that the Elks would move into the clubhouse in April was optimistic.  It was not until December 16, 1944 that "the mother lodge of Elkdom" dedicated the building, as reported by The New York Times.  The structure and the renovations had cost the fraternal organization $75,000--about $1.3 million today.

Fourteen years later, the Elks sold the property to the American Theatre Wing.  Renovations resulted in rehearsal halls in the basement, first and second floors; offices and half of a duplex apartment on the third; and the top floor of the duplex on the fourth.

On September 15, 1958, Mayor Robert F. Wagner officiated at the dedication of the new headquarters.  According to its president, Helen Menkin, the new building would permit "our organization to carry out our expansion ideas more effectively."  It held full-time classes for 400 students with a faculty of 40 teachers.  Among the well-known names of the theater who attended the event were Ed Begley, Lawrence Lagner, Miriam Hopkins, and Mrs. Bert Lytell.

photograph by frog17 from wikimapia.org

The American Theatre Wing sold the property in 1968 to a Seventh-Day Adventist Church, Iglesia Adventista Broadway.  The congregation converted the lower floors for worship purposes with residential spaces on the upper floors.

many thanks to reader Lynne Miller who suggested this post

Soon to Go. The School and Church of St. Ambrose--539-547 West 54th Street

 

photograph by frog17

The parish of the Church of St. Ambrose was established in 1897 in the impoverished and crime-ridden Hell's Kitchen neighborhood.  Among the parishioners were elderly sisters of whom the New-York Herald said, "It was understood that the two sisters are living in the most humble circumstances, that they have known hard work and few luxuries all their lives."  Their "humble circumstances" could well have changed in 1911 when they received an unexpected inheritance of $60,000--nearly $1.8 million in 2022.  Instead, explained the article, "they instantly decided they would try to do the greatest amount of good with it.  To that end they gave it to St. Ambrose's Church, which ministers mostly to the less prosperous class on the west side."

The Rev. Peter F. Guinevan and Cardinal John Murphy Farley put the windfall towards erecting a new church and school building at 539-547 West 54th Street, on the same block between Tenth and Eleventh Avenues as the original structure.  Until now, St. Ambrose had been unable to afford a school.  In June 1911, architect John V. Van Pelt filed plans for a four-story "brick and stone church, school and rectory" to cost the equivalent of $3.68 million today--just over twice the amount of the sisters' donation.

Construction progressed rapidly, and on September 4, 1911 the cornerstone laying ceremony was held.  The New-York Tribune reported that the event took place "In the presence of five thousand persons," including "about one thousand children who will attend the new school."

The article explained, "There is to be an auditorium in the basement which will seat one thousand.  The main floor will be used as a church, while the two floors above will be taken up by the new parish school."

photograph by frog17

During the dedication ceremony on December 15, 1912, Cardinal Farley revealed the munificent gift of the sisters.  The New York Herald reported, "They wished no credit and no praise for their act of self-denial, and Cardinal Farley and the rector of the church announced they would respect those wishes."

Van Pelt's design was unquestionably more school than church.  Faced in red brick, he gave a nod to the ecclesiastical purposes of the structure with a striking, two-story Gothic-style entrance executed in white terra cotta.  A  circular stained glass window hovered above the doorway.  Other Gothic elements were peppered across the facade, including a statue of St. Ambrose within a terra cotta niche and canopy.  A paneled, terra cotta parapet surmounted by a cross crowned the structure.

photograph by frog17

The youth within the parish of St. Ambrose faced severe challenges.  Most were working by their teen years, and carrying weapons was a near necessity for self defense in the gritty neighborhood.  Sixteen-year-old Albert Squillanti worked as a piano varnisher on the fifth floor of the Standard Pneumatic Action Company on West 52nd Street.  On November 24, 1913, according to The New York Times, he "needed an empty bottle and went down to the fourth floor."  There 19-year-old William Bartes was assembling piano parts.  "When Squillanti asked him for a bottle he answered him roughly."  A confrontation followed, during which Bartes pulled out a blackjack and struck Squillanti.

The blow was not enough for the older boy.  He waited outside the factory after work.  When Bartes emerged, he renewed the argument and struck Squillanti on the chest.  The New York Times reported, "Squillanti stepped back a foot or two, drew a small revolver from his coat pocket, and fired once.  The bullet went straight to Bartes's heart and he dropped dead on the sidewalk."

Squillanti fled, but was soon overtaken and brought to the same drugstore at 52nd Street and Eleventh Avenue where Bartes's body had been taken by his father (who worked in the same piano factory).  Someone ran to the Church of St. Ambrose and retrieved Father Moran.  The New York Times said that Squillanti first talked to the priest, then made a full confession to detectives.  He later led them to a pile of railroad rails on 54th Street where he had hidden his gun.

The church was the scene of two heartbreaking ceremonies on the same day, September 9, 1920.  With no parks nor playgrounds available to them, Hell's Kitchen children played in the streets.  Two days earlier, six-year-old Jimmy Wylie and eight-year-old Howard Schuman, who lived in the same tenement building at 600 West 55th Street, were among a group of children playing at 55th Street and Eleventh Avenue.  Suddenly a car "plunged" into the children, killing Jimmy and Howard.

Both funerals were held in their apartments, spaced apart so that children and other mourners could attend both.  The first was that of Jimmy Wylie.  Following the funeral, his casket was carried to the Church of St. Ambrose for a requiem mass, "while all the neighborhood stood by in reverence," said The Evening World.  Six former playmates, from seven to ten years old, acted as pallbearers, "in dark suits, with wide white collars and white gloves."  The newspaper said that along the route, "truck drivers stopped and bared their heads.  Many women along the line wept without concealment of their grief."  At the church, the children were permitted to pass by the coffin for a last look at their playmate.  

One hour later, the entire process was repeated for Howard Schuman.  The Evening Telegram reported that "nearly a thousand boy and girl school chums" marched behind the coffins during the processions and "thousands of mothers, vengeful fathers and sobbing playmates and school chums, lined the streets leading from their homes to the Roman Catholic Church of St. Ambrose."

The parish of St. Ambrose disbanded in 1938.  Renovations to the building to convert it for the Mount Carmel Home for the Aged and Infirm were completed in 1951.   It opened with 80 residents, and not long afterward was inspected by the Mayor's Advisory Committee for the Aged.  Dr. Alexander W. Kruger informed reporters that medical care was provided by St. Clare's Hospital, and the home's chaplain, Msgr. John J. Voigt and its "superior," Mother Bernadette de Lourdes, stressed "the importance of a homelike atmosphere."

The name of the facility was modernized to the Mount Carmel Nursing Home around 1970.  It operated here for three decades, closing for substantial renovations in 1981.  Sister Christina Lopez entered the vacant building that summer to check the premises, only to make a macabre discovery.

On June 26, 1981, The New York Times reported, "The burned and battered body of a teen-age girl who had been missing since Friday was found yesterday afternoon in the basement freezer of a closed nursing home only a block away from her midtown Manhattan home."  It is unclear whether the murderer of 14-year-old Debra Stewartson was ever found.

The renovations resulted in Centro Maria, a residence "where the Religious Sisters of Mary Immaculate look out for young women new to the city," as described by Nancy Beth Jackson in The New York Times on September 22, 2002.   Once relatively common in Manhattan, residence hotels for unmarried women were somewhat of a rarity by the turn of the 21st century.  Staffed by nuns, Centro Maria charged its residents a few hundred dollars a month, for which they also received two meals a day.

But what became home and safe haven for the young women came to an abrupt end in 2020.  The Archdiocese of New York issued eviction notices to the residents effective August 31 that year.  One of the women called the decision "a gut punch."

photograph by frog17

The Archdiocese sold the property in January 2022 to the Excel Development Group.  Although specific plans for the redevelopment of the site have not been finalized, a demolition permit has been issued and the architectural details--like the terra cotta ornamentation and the stained glass--are already being advertised by the architectural salvage firm Demolition Depot.

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