The Rev. Cornelius T. Demarest House - 21 King Street

 

Born in Tappan, New Jersey on January 23, 1786, Cornelius T. Demarest earned his degree in theology at Columbia University in 1804.  He married Margretta Lydecker in 1808 and the couple had one daughter, Penelope Doremus.

Rev. Demarest became the fourth pastor of the Dutch Reformed church in what was known as the English Neighborhood of New Jersey--the towns along the Hudson Palisades in Eastern Bergen County--on May 25, 1813.  But within a decade a serious schism occurred.  He and many of his congregation believed that the church had drifted away from the doctrine of the Dutch Reformed Church.

On February 18, 1824, the Classis of Bergen met, accusing Demarest of "abuse and false slanders uttered in private conversations" and of falsifying minutes of an earlier classis meeting.  When he refused to appear to answer the charges, he was judged guilty and suspended from his ministry.

Undaunted, Rev. Demarest moved his family to New York City and organized the True Dutch Reformed Church at 23 King Street.  It was completed in 1826, approximately the same year that a row of abutting, Federal style houses were erected.  The Demarest family moved into 21 King Street, next door to the church.

Like its identical neighbors, the Demarests' house was two-and-a-half stories tall, with two prominent dormers that pierced the peaked roof.  It was faced in warm Flemish bond brick.

The Demarest house originally was identical to its neighbor at 17 King Street, seen above.

Like almost all of their neighbors, the Demarests took in a boarder.  Living with the family in 1840 was Thomas Whybrew, a book dealer at 108 Broadway.  In 1845, they had two boarders, Sidney Curtis, who was in the hardware business; and John Z. Westervelt, a bookkeeper.

Rev. Cornelius T. Demarest died on December 26, 1862 at the age of 76.  Three days later his funeral was held in "the Dutch Reformed Church, in King-st.," as announced by The New York Times.

Margretta Lydecker Demarest offered the house for sale on April 7, 1865.  The advertisement said the "two story and attic house" was "replete with modern improvements," suggesting that gas lighting and possibly running water had been installed.

The house became home to the John Nichol family.  Born in Scotland around 1822, Nichol had been a partner with George Frederick Merklee in the iron foundry Merklee & Nichol at 53 Hamersley Street (later Houston Street).  When the firm dissolved in 1854, Nichol partnered with George W. Billerwell.  The year he moved his family in 21 King Street, he listed himself as "iron founder and manufacturer of Mettam's patent rolling iron shutters."

In 1869, the Nichols rented the top portion of their home.  Their advertisement in the New York Herald on May 3, read:

21 King Street, near Macdougal--For housekeeping, Second Floor and Part of Third; gas, bath and washtubs, $55 per month.  Also small rear House, $15; for adults only.

The rent for the upper portion of the house would translate to about $1,270 per month in 2024.  Nearly all the houses along the block had a small building in the rear yard, in this case a house.  The rent would equal $346 a month.

The ad was answered by Harriet L. Belmont, the widow of Simeon Belmont; and Augustus M. Vanraden, a grocer whose store was at 80 Spring Street.  It is unclear who lived in which space.

In 1871, the family of John Calvin Christie moved into 21 King Street.  The extended Christie family was well known to the Nichols.  William Christie had purchased 15 King Street in 1840, and David W. Christie, his son, operated a stable in John Nichol's former foundry on Houston Street.

Shortly after moving into 21 King Street, on June 7, 1871, John C Christie died at the age of 27.  His funeral was held in the house on June 11, followed by a service at the True Dutch Reformed Church.

The house was next home to David Broome, another iron founder and likely an acquaintance of John Nichol.  In 1875, it was purchased by James H. Noe and his wife, the former Katherine Mangels.  Noe was a highly successful brush manufacturer with a store and factory at 275 Greenwich Street.  It may have been the Noes who raised the attic to a full floor, adding in the process a handsome Italianate cornice.  On either side of the brackets were scrolled volutes, and between were ornate pressed panels of flowers, fruits and swags.

As had been the case with John Calvin Christie, Noe's residency would be cut short.  The summer that he purchased 21 King Street, Noe was expanding his factory by building an addition next door.  On Sunday morning August 22, he went to Greenwich Street to check on his business, "feeling a little uneasy about the premises, as a building was in process of construction adjoining, the ladders belonging to which afforded easy access to the roof of No. 275 [Greenwich Street]," explained the New York Herald.

Noe found the first and second floors "undisturbed," but as he started up to the third floor, he saw John Richard Dolan, sneaking down from the roof via the "scuttle," or trap door.  Dolan was known to police as "Dandy Johnny" and the "Beau Brummel of Five Points" for his expensive shoes and clothes.  More importantly, he was a street brawler, burglar and gangster.

Noe attempted to overpower the intruder, but Dolan hit him on the head with a "jimmy," or iron bar, three times.  Nearly unconscious, the bloodied Noe was tied up and robbed.  Before fleeing, Dolan told him, "It's twenty years for me if I'm caught!  I'll send somebody to untie you.  If you make a noise I'll come back and finish you."

Noe's cries for help eventually were answered by a neighbor, a Mrs. Harris.  She later said, "He was covered with blood from head to foot."  James Noe was taken to the Chambers Street Hospital where he died four days later.  With exaggerated Victorian prose, The New York Times wrote, "the dead wagon conveyed from the Chambers Street Hospital to No. 21 King street all that was mortal of Mr. Noe," adding, "its reception at his residence was marked by a scene of anguish which happily occurs but seldom in this City."

Eight months later, on April 22, 1876, the New York Herald reported, "John Richard Dolan was hanged yesterday morning in the yard of the Tombs Prison for the murder of James H. Noe."

The family of Matthew Black lived here by 1878.  Black was in the produce business as were his sons Matthew J. and Robert, whose families all lived here.

In the 19th and early 20th centuries, boys celebrated the Fourth of July with the shooting of pistols.  Not unexpectedly, it often ended tragically.  In his 1912 Independence Day, Robert Haven Schauffler said,

It then seemed to be a day wholly devoted to boyish pleasure and mischief, sure to be followed by reports of hairbreadth escapes and injuries more or less serious, sometimes even fatal...It was not uncommon then, nor is it now, to read of some sudden death, some irretrievable blindness or other injury caused by the explosion of a toy cannon or the misadventure of some fireworks on "the Fourth," as the day has come to be called.

The Black family was at their summer home in Bergen, New Jersey on the holiday that year.  Tragically, On July 7, 1878, The New York Times reported, "A boy named Robert Black, of No. 21 King street, died yesterday from the effects of a pistol shot wound accidentally received in Bergen, N. J. on the 4th...while he and another boy were carelessly handling a pistol."

The house was purchased by detective A. W. Thompson around 1890.  He had big plans for the property.  On October 25, that year, the Record & Guide reported that his architect, M. Snedeker, had filed plans for a "four-story brick flat" to replace the vintage house.  Something derailed the plans, however, and the Thompson family, who were currently living on West Houston Street, moved in.

By 1897, A. W. Thompson had died and his widow Adolphine and son, Charles S., were living here.  Charles had joined the fire department with Engine Company 19 on West 25th Street,  in 1887.  Now, in 1897, he was engaged to Jessie Graham. 

In 1892, Charles was fighting a large fire when a wall collapsed.  He suffered a serious head injury when he was struck by falling bricks.  The New York Journal and Advertiser explained, "His skull was fractured and several operations have since been performed on him."  For five years, Charles suffered excruciating headaches.  On May 4, 1897, the New York Evening Telegram said, "He has been suffering more than usual from them lately."

At 11:00 on May 3, 1897, Charles left the house to go to work.  Before going to the firehouse, he stopped at a drugstore because of his violent headache.  At 7:00 that night, he was brought home "between two firemen," as reported by the New York Evening Telegram, who told his mother he had been "acting very strangely."

Thompson said, "If you fellows knew how sick I am you wouldn't talk that way."  

Adolphine put him to bed.  An hour later, Jessie Graham, her father and brother stopped by to see how he was doing.  Charles came down to the parlor and while they were talking, his dog jumped onto his lap.

The little dog had been the mascot of his firehouse.  Its leg was crushed by an engine and the fire captain was going to shoot it.  Charles intervened, begged to let him have it, and nursed the crippled dog back to health.  Now, as it began to lick Charles's hand, he "became wild in an instant," as worded by the New York Evening Telegram.

Charles shouted, "There's that dog again!  Take him away!" and picked up his jackknife from the table.  He opened it and attempted to stab the dog.  The newspaper said,

Miss Graham interfered and Thompson turned on her.  His reason had left him and he was trying to stab the young woman when his mother rushed in and threw herself between them.  The insane fireman turned on her and tried to plunge the knife into her.  She only saved herself by throwing her arms around his neck and talking to him until be became calm.

An ambulance was called and just before midnight he was taken away.  The following day the New York Evening Telegram reported, "he lies in the insane pavilion at Bellevue."  The New York Journal and Advertiser reported the obvious, "the wedding day has been indefinitely postponed," while the Telegram said, "It is feared that he is hopelessly insane from the wound in his head."

In 1900, title to 21 King Street was transferred from Charles's name to Adolphine's.  In addition, she owned a house at 46 Barrow Street.  The following year, on October 27, 1901, she remarried.  Her new husband was David A. Whitaker, a marine engineer.  The bride was 51 and the groom 48.  

For two years, according to Adolphine, Whitaker was "a model husband."  Then things changed.  Whitaker began to "beat her cruelly," according to The New York Times.  He additionally used her money for investments, the profits of which he kept. She later told a judge, " I silently bore [the abuse] because of the fact that I was alone in the world and he was the only one I had...so even with all the brutality I continued to live with [Whitaker], hoping against hope that he would reform."

Things came to a climax on April 1, 1910.  That day Adolphine had ten teeth extracted.  The New York Times reported, "She suffered great pain, she said, and the dentist gave her a narcotic powder to apply to her gums."

Whitaker came home that night with a pail of beer.  He noticed the powder and was unusually agreeable for the rest of the evening.  Adolphine later testified,  "That night my husband was pleasant with me and I recall distinctly that before he retired he kissed me, which was an unusual state of affairs."

The next evening after supper Adolphine visited a friend who was sick with pneumonia.  When she returned, Whitaker and his clothes were gone.  He told friends his wife was attempting to poison him "with powder."

Adolphine sued for divorce in October "on the ground of cruelty and desertion," as reported by The New York Times.  But her problems were far from over.

Nearly a quarter of a century later, on March 19, 1925, the Brooklyn Standard Union reported that Adolphine, now 81 years old, had won her suit against her nephew, James O. Westberg and his wife, Mary F., to regain title to the house in which she lived at 172 Van Siclen Street in Brooklyn, "and at 46 Barrow Street and 21 King Street, Manhattan."  Adolphine's suit alleged that when David Whitaker left her and she became ill, James and Mary Westberg warned her that he "would return and take her property."  She said they pressured her into signing the title to the three properties over to them.  She won the suit and regained possession of 21 King Street and the other two properties.

In the meantime,  the Westbergs had been leasing 21 King Street.  Jerry A. Re lived here in the early 1920s.  He was affluent enough to own a Chandler touring car and a summer home in Monroe, New York.  In October 1922, he notified the Newburgh, New York police that his car had been stolen.  A few days later it was pulled over by a Newburgh police officer.  Driving it was Henry Re, Jerry's 21-year-old brother.  In the car with him was Isabel Hill, a 14-year-old runaway from Yonkers.

Henry Re was arrested for larceny, for stealing the car, and for a violation of Section 483 of the penal law, "which has to do with corrupting the morals of a minor," reported The Independent Republican of Goshen, New York.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The house was altered in 1932 and in 1936.  It was most likely during one of those renovations that the parlor floor was faced with stone.  Although never officially converted to apartments, there are three units in the house today.

photographs by the author

The 1840 Samuel Martin House - 52 King Street

 

The original stoop railings wrapped around newels that perched upon the brownstone drums. 

On June 18, 1854, Elizabeth E. Martin married Albert G. Crowell.  The wedding may have taken place in the parlor of her parents' home at 52 King Street.  Well-to-do builder Samuel Martin's house was one of a row of identical Greek Revival style homes.  Built in 1840, the three-story-structure was faced in brick above the brownstone clad basement level.  Handsome iron stoop railings descended to wrap the short newels atop sturdy brownstone drums.  Within its heavy stone framework, the paneled door was flanked by narrow sidelights.  A delicately dentiled cornice originally ran along the roof life.

Albert G. Crowell, who was in the drygoods business, and his bride moved into the Martin house.  It became a bit more crowed when Elizabeth's sister Caroline married John G. Benson.

The parlor was the scene of Caroline's funeral on the afternoon of May 16, 1854.  She had died two days earlier "after a lingering illness," according to her death notice in the New York Herald.

A second funeral was held here in 1863.  Samuel Martin died at the age of 78 on February 13, and his funeral was held two days later.

Around 1875, Albert G. Crowell would be appointed the chief clerk in the municipal Government's Excise Department.  By then they had been gone from 52 King Street for about nine years.  It became home to the Mark and Catherine Redmond family.

The Redmonds were well known at the Washington Market.  James H. and Nicholas W. both worked in their father's butcher business, and their mother oversaw the Redmond & Co. fruit business there.

Like many of their neighbors, the Redmonds took in a boarder.  In 1868 it was John Meyer, whose name appeared in the newspapers for an embarrassing reason that year.

On March 12, the Evening Express reported that Meyer had appeared before the magistrate in the Jefferson Police Court and "related how he had been enticed into a den of iniquity by a fair but false one and then robbed of $150."  The "fair and false one" was a woman named Jennie Hess who lived on Bleecker Street.  According to Meyer, he met her on the street and she invited him to her room.  

While he and Jennie were in bed, three men entered the room.  "On arising, he found that his wallet, containing $150 in money, had been taken from his pantaloons," related the Evening Express.  The scheme was known to police as a "panel house game."  Perpetrators had little reason to fear that their victims--preferring to suffer the loss rather than face the humiliation and publicity--would go to the police.  But Meyer was different.  He immediately found a policeman who arrested Jennie Hess.  Although she pleaded not guilty, "she was locked up to await her trial at the General Session," said the Evening Express.

In 1872 the Redmond family moved to 120 East 23rd Street.  The King Street house became home to the extended Henry M. Scoble family, who moved here from Vestry Street.  Living with him and his family were his widowed mother Caroline Martyn Scoble and his brother John R., who was a firefighter.

Caroline Martyn Scoble died in the house at the age of 74 on March 14, 1874.

Henry and his wife had four sons, Andrew Harvey, John M., William Henry and Thomas.  An attorney, Andrew ran for assemblyman in 1897.  The Evening Post noted described him as, "Lawyer; has been bank clerk and journalist; never before a candidate for public office."

William Henry was accepted into the College of the city of New York in May 1899.  It was no doubt a source of pride for the family.  The New York Herald noted, "more than thirteen hundred pupils of the public schools essayed to answer the puzzling questions put to them by the faculty of the college.  Of this number 630 reached the requisite percentage and will enter upon their duties the coming autumn."

The Scobel family lived on in the King Street house for decades, finally selling it in April 1907.  

At some point during the Depression years, the house was converted to unofficial apartments.  The stoop was removed and the entrance lowered to the basement level.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Living here in 1959 were Glacinta Rubino, a widow, and her unmarried daughter, Annette.  Another daughter, Rosalie Rubino Weinstein, had died in an airplane crash in April 1958 "while returning to New York from a western mission for Boys Town," according to The Villager.  Rosalie's husband, attorney Charles Weinstein, had died three months earlier.

Glacinta and Annette Rubino had an impressive house guest in the summer of 1959.  The Villager reported, "Princess Gabrielle Pacelli, niece of the late Pope Pius XII, visited 84-year-old Mrs. Glacinta Rubino, at her home, 52 King St., in Greenwich Village, on Monday, June 1."  The article explained, "The Princess and her husband, Prince Marcantonio Pacelli, were dear and close friends of Mrs. Rubino's daughter, the late Mrs. Rosalie Rubino Weinstein."

No. 52 King Street was officially converted to apartments , one per floor, in 1977.  A subsequent renovation in 1988 resulted in two duplex apartments and the rebuilding of the stoop based on surviving examples along the row. 

photograph by the author

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The William Christie House - 17 King Street

 

John Jacob Astor I paid "handsomely" for the former Aaron Burr estate, Richmond Hill in 1817.  At the same time, he took over the land lease from Trinity Church on which the estate stood.  Within a few years, Astor had leveled the land and begun lining the newly laid streets with prim, brick-faced homes.  Among them was 17 King Street, one of a row of identical two-and-a-half-story homes.  Its Federal design included a peaked attic roof pierced by two dormers.

It appears that 17 King Street was initially rented.  The family of John Johnson lived in 17 King Street in the late 1820s.  The funeral of his father-in-law, Rev. Josephus B. Loring, was held in the parlor on October 18, 1830.  The cleric was 67 years old.

Within six years, the Gideon Fountain family occupied the house.  A merchant on Whitehall Street, he and his wife, the former Maria Slover, had seven children.  Fountain had deep American roots, his first French Huguenot ancestor, named de la Fontaine, arriving in Staten Island before 1658.

The parlor was once again the scene of a funeral on November 29, 1837.  Gideon Fountain, Jr., who was just eight years old, had died two days earlier.   

In 1840 the Fountains moved next door to 15 King Street.   No. 17 was purchased by William Christie, who listed his occupation as "carman."  Although the term normally referred to the driver of a delivery truck, Christie's ability to purchase a home suggests he owned the trucking firm.  The Christies, who had a son, David W., took in a boarder.  In 1840 it was Daniel B. Pierson.  A mason, Pierson would remain with the family for about five years.

Even middle-class families like the Christies had domestic help.  On August 8, 1843, an advertisement in the New-York Tribune read, "Wanted--At No. 17 King-street; a Girl about 13 or 14 years old, to go of [sic] errands and to assist in housework.  Good reference required."

In December 1846, William Christie died.  David Christie took over the business.  

Around 1851, the Christie family leased 17 King Street to Daniel Pierson and his wife Jemima.  The couple did not take in a boarder until 1860.  Charles Bernard, an engineer, lived with the family that year.  He was replaced in 1864 by William James, a "scavenger."  (The term referred to either to a scrap metal or rags seller, or a second-hand furniture dealer.)

Around 1868, the Christie family moved to River Edge, New Jersey.  The King Street house was rented to a boarding house proprietor who took in only a select number of residents, reflecting on the high-end tenor of the house.  Leon Remus, who ran a millinery business on Broadway, boarded here for at least five years, from 1872 to 1877.  

Another boarder was Dr. John G. Lang.  Born in Bremen, Germany in 1812, he had attended the medical college at Gottingen, German, in 1837.  Dr. Lang found himself in trouble in the fall of 1876.

On October 5 that year, the New York Herald began an article saying, "The most important trial of the day, and one which will doubtless attract very much attention, was that of an old German named John Lang, of No. 17 King street, indicted for practising [sic] medicine without a regular diploma."  The article noted that the New York Medical Society had "determined to wage universal war upon quacks," and the Lang case "was intended to be a test one."

Testimony was heard by members of the Medical Society who recalled Lang's failing examinations and not receiving a certificate to practice.  Patients told of Lang's treating them and prescribing medicines, and the arresting officer testified that Lang told him "that he had been practising [sic] for about forty years."

Lang's own testimony did not help his case.  He swore that his diploma from Gottingen "was stolen from him in 1843."  Later he served as surgeon aboard a Dutch whaling ship, the Spitzbergon, for about four years.  To obtain that position, he underwent an examination and was given a certificate "to practise [sic] anywhere."  But that document, too, had been lost.

The jury found Lang guilty.  His attorney pleaded for leniency, noting that during the cholera epidemic he treated many patients while many licensed doctors had fled.  "He urged that it would be cruel to send a weak and gray haired man to jail and cast his family into disgrace," reported the New York Herald.  The judge, after "carefully weighing all the facts," imposed the lightest penalty allowed--a fine of $50 (about $1,500 in 2024).

On August 9, 1888, an advertisement in The Sun offered, "A newly furnished boarding house, light airy rooms; parlor privileges; price reasonable, 17 King st."  

David W. Christie had died the previous year, on December 29, 1887.  Jemima Christie quickly remarried.  Now Jemima Doremus, she sold 17 King Street in December 1889 to Wauhope and Anna N. Lynn.  The couple paid $9,500 for the property, or about $325,000 today.

Born in Ireland on December 14, 1856, Wauhope Lynn had received his law degree at New York University Law School in 1882.  In 1891 he was appointed assistant district attorney, and the following year was made a judge of the First District Municipal Court.

There was a great deal of excitement in front of the Lynn home on the morning of July 24, 1896.  Policeman John H. Foley lived a few houses away, at 37 King Street.  He was just about to enter his home that morning when he heard a commotion.  The World reported, "Looking up the street he saw a fireman and a woman holding a man in the doorway of No. 17 King street."

The woman, Julia Field, told Foley she had discovered Louis Wendell sitting on the stoop "while scattered about him was a quantity of parlor matches."  She said she feared he was about to set fire to the house.  Foley arrested him, and in the Jefferson Market Police Court he insisted he was merely selling matches.  Wendell was fined $5 "for peddling without a license."

Justice Lynn's decided opinions regarding the British were so pronounced that they made it to a New Zealand newspaper.  On April 19, 1899, the Poverty Bay Herald reported, "An unpleasant incident is reported from New York in connection with the annual dinner of the St. David Society last month, at which 350 guests were present."  The article said that among them was "Tammany Judge Wauhope Lynn, who created somewhat of a sensation by refusing to rise and drink a toast of Queen Victoria.  Mrs. Lynn, who was with her husband, also remained seated."  After declaring he "would rather serve 20 years in the State prison than toast the health of Queen Victoria," he and Anna left the banquet hall.

It was likely the Lynns who updated the house with a Victorian cornice over the doorway.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Lynns leased the house in 1903 to William J. La Roche, who would remain here for years.  The couple would not have a new tenant until August 1919, when the Record & Guide reported that Justice Wauhope Lynn leased the house to Rocco P. Timpone.

Timpone was employed by the Empire Carting Company.  Shortly after moving into 17 King Street he was called as a witness in the corruption investigation of the state insurance fund by the State Industrial Commission.  The state accused doctors who examined injured workmen of demanding a percentage of their compensation.

Timpone testified that he had broken an arm while working for Empire Carting Company.  "He said when his claim had been allowed he called at the office of the fund...and received a check for $500."  He was told that he had to pay half of that amount to the claim adjuster.

Justice Wauhope Lynn retired in 1919 after having served on the bench for 23 years.  He died the following year, in October 1920, at the age of 64.  His estate sold the house in 1922.

Living here around mid-century was writer James Rufus Agee, his wife, the former Mia Fritsch, their two daughters Julia and Andrea, and son John.  The family maintained a summer home in Hillsdale, New York.  James Agee's broad resume included novelist, poet, film critic, screenwriter, and journalist.  Two of his screenplays, the 1951 The African Queen and the 1955 The Night of the Hunter, were among the most highly praised films of the decade.

James Agee, from the collection of the Library of Congress

Agee left the house for a doctor's appointment on May 16, 1955.  On the way there, he suffered a fatal heart attack in the taxi.  He was buried on the Hillsdale property.  Two years later, his autobiographical novel A Death in the Family was published, winning him a posthumous Pulitzer Prize.

A restoration in 2017 stabilized the facade, which was noticeably bowing.  After nearly 200 years, 17 King Street remains a single family home.  

photographs by the author

no permission to reuse the content of this blog has been granted to LaptrinhX.com

The 1840 Ichabod Price House - 42 King Street

 

Born in 1781, Ichabod Price was a sergeant in the New York State Artillery Corps at the outbreak of the War of 1812.  Decades later, the Arkansas City Daily Traveler would recall, "He suggested to the war department both rifle cannons and conical balls, which now perform destructive work at long distances, but he was not listened to.  President Madison was so well satisfied of the genius of the sergeant that he was commissioned a sergeant in the regular army of the United States."

Price was a successful hatter when he rented the newly built house at 42 King Street in 1840.  It was a year of change for Price, who also relocated his business.  On September 9, a notice in The Evening Post read,

Fashionable Hats--Ichabod Price has removed from 190 to 290 Broadway, one door above Washington Hotel.  Fashionable Hats made in superior style, of the best materials.  The fall fashion is now ready for exhibition.  The public are respectfully invited to call and examine for themselves.

The King Street house was one of a row of identical Greek Revival style homes.  Three stories tall, it was faced in brick above the brownstone clad basement level.  Handsome iron stoop railings descended to wrap the short newels atop sturdy brownstone drums.  In contrast to its heavy stone framework, the elegant doorway was flanked by narrow sidelights.  A delicately dentiled cornice ran along the roof life.

The Prices' two daughters were grown and married, so the couple subleased a portion of their new home to the Brown family.  Charles P. Brown was in the lime business on West Street, and his son James G. Brown was a clerk.

Around 1847 Ichabod Price moved two doors away, to 46 King Street where he died at the age of 81 on February 22, 1862.  

A succession of tenants lived at 42 King Street after Price.  John W. Taylor lived here in 1847.  On September 12, 1849 an auction of the household goods was held.  The announcement explained the furnishings belonged to "a family breaking up housekeeping."  The following year the house was occupied by spring manufacturer William B. Oakley, and in 1853 by James Mettler, a wholesale grocer.

The family of John Brown, an oyster dealer in the Fulton Market, lived here beginning in 1856.  Like the Prices, they rented extra space.  Their advertisement on October 19, 1858 read, "A private family, residing in a very respectable neighborhood, will let a very nicely furnished front room to a gentleman, with fire, gas and bath, on moderate terms.  Inquire at 42 King street."

The mention of "gas and bath" reflects the up-to-the-minute amenities.  Although Samuel Leggett had installed gas lighting in his house at 7 Cherry Street in 1823, it would not become widespread until the 1880s.  And indoor plumbing had only become possible in 1842 (with the opening of the Croton Reservoir) to homeowners who could afford the renovations.

In the 19th century, a common method for widowed women to eke a living was the running of a boarding house.  Mary Cook, the widow of James Cook, lived here starting in 1861, taking in two boarders at a time.  

Patrick and Catharine McKenna moved into 42 King Street in 1871.  McKenna listed his profession as "liquors" in two locations, at 109 and 172 Varick Street.  The couple had barely moved in when tragedy struck.  On November 20, 1871, their son Peter Joseph died 12 days after his first birthday.

McKenna may have been in the liquor business, but an advertisement for a room to rent in the New York Herald on October 6, 1875, indicated the couple would not abide a disreputable tenant.  

A nice front room on second floor to let, furnished--gas, bath and fire; nice for two gentlemen or light housekeeping to respectable people; private house.  42 King street.

Although they briefly retained possession of the house, the McKennas moved to 39 Charlton Street in 1876.  Three years later, they sold 42 King Street to Charles McDonnell and his wife.  The couple maintained a country house near Derby, Connecticut where The Evening World noted that McDonnell enjoyed "working a little farm, of which he was very proud."

McDonnell had good reason to be proud of his achievements.  Born on November 15, 1841 on Anthony Street (later renamed Worth Street), The World said that "while quite small boy Charley tried to earn his own living by selling newspapers."  Newsboys were almost always impoverished and many of them were homeless, living in newsboy lodging houses.  The newspaper said, "He was assisted to an education by friends, and later ex-Sheriff Matthew T. Brennan, Judge Dowling and other prominent Democrats took a great interest in the lad."

Saved from the street by chance, he joined the police force on January 21, 1863.  When he purchased 42 King Street, he had risen to the rank of captain and had been assigned to the Prince Street stationhouse since 1874.  He was known among the force as "Lightning Charley" because of his reputation of apprehending perpetrators with lightning speed.

The World recalled a few of those instances.  "During his term in the old Twenty-eighth Precinct a man named Sheridan killed a German at the corner of Thirty-seventh street and Second avenue, and within two hours the Captain had captured the murderer."  Another case The World recounted was, "One afternoon a poor woman was found lying dead in a pool of blood in a miserable garret in South Fifth avenue, and that night the captain arrested the woman's son, who proved to have been the murderer."

Captain Charles "Lightning Charley" McDonnell, The Evening World, August 14, 1888 (copyright expired)

Charles McDonnell appeared to be near death in the winter of 1886.  He caught pneumonia and, thinking he had recovered sufficiently, on January 15 ventured out of the house.  The New York Herald reported, "While in the street he was suddenly taken sick and had to be conveyed home, and is now suffering from a relapse."  The article said he was "lying dangerously ill at his home, No. 42 King street."

In August 1888, because his wife was at the Connecticut house, McDonnell chose to sleep at the station house.  At 9:00 on the morning of August 14, Doorman McDermott (the officer who interacted with civilians) went to awaken him, since he had apparently overslept.  The Evening World reported, "A gentle shake of the shoulder failed to have the desired effect, and on looking down into the Captain's face, the doorman noticed the stamp of death on his countenance."  He had apparently suffered a fatal heart attack in his sleep.

Charles McDonnell's funeral was impressive.  The New York Times reported, "A battalion with music will escort the hearse from 42 King-street to the Grand Central Station."  Eight full companies of police officers marched in the procession, which went "from the late residence of the deceased, at 42 King street, to [St. Anthony's Church], thence to South Fifth avenue, to and through Washington Square, to Fifth avenue, to Fortieth street, to Park avenue, and thence to the depot."  A special train car transported the casket to Birmingham, Connecticut for burial.

Five months later, on January 23, 1889, 42 King Street was sold at auction.  Michael Higgins paid $13,500 for the property.  The figure would translate to about $433,000 in 2024.

Once again the residence became a boarding house.  Living here in 1892 were Peter Thompson and James O'Neill, who were arrested on May 4, 1892 as "policy-dealers," according to The Evening Post.  (Policy rackets were a version of a numbers game or illegal lottery that preyed on the desperate poor.)  A much more respectable resident in 1896 was Lewis C. Von der Hosen, who was appointed a city marshal on March 30 that year.

Disparate tenants continued to live in the house.  In 1903, for instance, Peter C. Hunter and Ignatius Canali lived here.  Hunter was a member of the Caledonian Club and "a faithful employe [sic] of James Stewart, the hide and leather dealer," according to the New York Herald.  Canali, on the other hand, was arrested on October 20 that year with his brother-in-law, Edward Basso, "on a charge of selling bogus naturalization papers."  The two had targeted naïve Italian immigrants, charging them $20 for fake papers.

At the time, the King Street neighborhood was seeing an influx of Italian immigrants.  In 1920, 42 King Street was purchased by John and Olindo D'Anna.  They sold it the following year to Vincezo Lanza.

Lanza was born in San Fele, Italy, in 1861.  He opened a drugstore in Greenwich Village in 1881.  In 1894, he married Maria Antonia Maffia.  They had three children, Frank, Joseph and Mary.  When the couple moved into the King Street house, Lanza's drugstore had been located at Bleecker and Macdougal Streets since 1901.

While living here, the Lanzas converted the house to unofficial apartments, one per floor.  Occupying one of them in 1934 was the Alonzo family.  Joseph Alonzo and his son Frank worked in a toothpaste factory in Jersey City.  The two were arrested with four other men on February 12 that year, charged with "having been involved in the theft of about $27,000 worth of tooth paste...during the past six months," according to the New York Sun.  The in-house ring stole inventory by simply shipping it from the mail room.  It was a significant theft, equal to nearly $600,000 today.

Vincenzo Lanza retired in 1951.  Widowed, he died at the age of 98 on October 11, 1959.  The Villager noted, "He resided at 42 King St., a four-family house which he owned for 37 years."  The article added, "His family ascribe his longevity to the European mode of life-regular habits, rest in the afternoon and 'particular attention to the stomach.'"

In 1967 42 King Street was officially converted to apartments, one per floor.  Other than the iron fire escape, its outward appearance is little changed after 185 years.

photographs by the author

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The Hugh Martin House - 20 King Street

 

King Street, named for Founding Father and member of the Continental Congress Rufus King, was laid out in 1817 by John Jacob Astor I on the former country estate of Aaron Burr, Richmond Hill.  He began erecting houses along the block between MacDougal and Varick Street in the mid-1820s.  

Unlike those Federal style homes, 20 King Street (which was not erected until 1841), was designed in the Greek Revival style.  Three stories of red brick sat upon a brownstone English basement.  The elegant doorway--with paneled pilasters and leaded sidelights and transom--sat within the expected Greek Revival framework of engaged stone columns upholding a heavy entablature.

William Morrison, Jr. occupied the house in 1845.  He was in the "thread and needles" business at 573 Broadway, and it appears he rented 20 King Street.  By 1851, when George G. Coffin lived here, Morrison had moved down the block to 44 King Street.

Coffin, who was a clerk in the Post Office downtown, remained until about 1855, when Hugh Martin purchased the house.  Martin owned a boot and shoe operation at 192 Broadway.  Living with him and his wife Sarah were their daughters Mary E. and Caroline.

On March 26, 1863, Caroline was married to Thomas D. Sloane in the Scotch Presbyterian Church on West 14th Street.  Sloane was in the ribbons business on Canal Street.  Caroline remained in her parents' house with her new husband.

What was supposed to have been a joyous occasion was the exact opposite when Mary E. Martin died on her 30th birthday on July 31, 1865.  Her casket sat in the parlor until her funeral on August 2.

In the summer of 1867, New York was experiencing a glut of crimes on public transportation.  On August 18, the New York Herald began an article saying, "Again the same old story--two or three young men obstructing the platform of a city railroad car and robbing the passengers."  The night before, at about 11:00, Hugh Martin had become the latest victim.  While attempting to board an Eighth Avenue streetcar at the corner of 29th Street, he was "rudely jostled by two or three stout young men."  They made off with Martin's pocketbook containing $48 in cash (about $980 in 2024), a safe key and valuable papers.  By the time Martin realized what had happened, the men had escaped and "left no trace behind."

The parlor of 20 King Street was again the scene of a funeral on August 18, 1870.  Caroline and Thomas Sloane's young daughter, Carrie Hannah, contracted diphtheria and died here on August 16.

Hugh Martin sold 20 King Street in 1873 to George H. and Sarah E. Shear.  George listed his occupation as a carman--the driver of a delivery wagon--however his ability to purchase the property suggests he owned the cartage business.  Living with the couple in 1873 was Anderson Shear, presumably George's brother, who was also listed as a carman.

As was common, the Shears took in a boarder.  In 1873 and '74 it was John Taff, a cutter in a garment factory, and in 1876 and 1877, it was Charles Cottier, a dealer in gold.

George and Sarah had a son, Oscar, in August 1876.  Sadly, the little boy died just after his second birthday on September 13, 1878.  His funeral was held in the parlor the following day.

It appeared the Shears would lose their home in 1899 when the city announced plans to extend Sixth Avenue from Minetta Lane to Canal Street.  The project would cut a wide swath through Greenwich Village.  On the list of properties "within the lines of [the] proposed Sixth Avenue Extension," published in the Record & Guide on February 11 was 20 King Street.  Happily for the house, the project was pushed off until 1925 and the new route skirted the property by a matter of feet.

After having owned 20 King Street for more than three decades, George H. and Sarah E. Shear sold the property to Nichola de Francesco Mileo on November 22, 1906 for $12,800 (about $430,000 today).  The neighborhood was now heavily populated by Italian immigrant families.  It appears Mileo operated 20 King Street as a boarding or rooming house for years.

Living here in 1920 was Marie Caruso, the estranged wife of James Caruso, who claimed to be the cousin of operatic star Enrico Caruso.  Like the renowned tenor, both Carusos were musicians.  James Caruso was a "piano composer," according to The Sun, which added that Marie "also is an accomplished musician."

While Marie lived in the King Street house, her husband lived at 2011 First Avenue.  She had begun separation proceedings, charging her husband with abandonment and failing to support her, but then seems to have changed her mind.  On September 21, 1920, The Sun said her lawyer had "proposed that they become reconciled."  James's response was, perhaps, not what Marie expected.  He told a reporter, "If it's a choice of living with my wife or death, give me death."

Marie's name was back in the newspapers six months later.  Also living at 20 King Street was the family of Louis Bollina.  On March 4, 1921, Marie Caruso took Bollina to court because his young adult daughter Margaret "went through the hall in a nightgown," as reported by the New-York Tribune.

Margaret appeared with her father in Magistrate Rosenblatt's courtroom, bringing with her as evidence her nightgown.  The New-York Tribune reported that the magistrate approved of the nightgown "as an indoor costume," and then turned his fury on Marie Caruso.  Not holding back, he told her:

You are simply looking for publicity.  Take your troubles to a preacher of the gospel.  Miss Margaret Bollina has a perfect right to go through the halls in her nightgown, and if you, Mrs. Caruso, bring this nightgown story to this court again I will have you locked up.

One wonders how peaceful the coexistence was between the neighbors within 20 King Street after the ruling.

In 1941 the vintage structure was dwarfed by apartment buildings.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

By the 1960s, the house was owned by Helen-Jean Dunn.  In 1963, the basement level was converted to an apartment.  

A member of the Association of Village Homeowners, Dunn spoke out against the proposed erection of Engine Company No. 24 at 227 Avenue of the Americas in 1967.  She asserted, according to The Villager on September 28, that the site "is often backed up with truck traffic and at these times the fire trucks would be blocked."  Despite Dunn's seemingly sensible argument, the firehouse went up.

The Dunn family continues to occupy the upper portion of the vintage house.  Lovingly maintained, other than its brownstone being painted white it retains much of its 1841 appearance.

photographs by the author

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The Barber Badger House - 15 King Street

 

In 1817 John Jacob Astor I paid Aaron Burr "handsomely," according to one source, for his Richmond Hill Estate slightly south of Greenwich Village.  In doing so, he took over the land lease from Trinity Church, upon which the estate stood.  Over the next decade, Astor leveled the land and laid out streets, including King Street, named for Revolutionary War soldier and member of the Continental Congress Rufus King.  By the mid-1820s, prim brick-faced houses were rising along the new blocks.

Among them was 15 King Street, on the northwest corner of Congress Street.  Two-and-a-half-stories tall, its peaked attic level was pierced by two dormers at the front, and three windows on the side--two of them were arched and the other was quarter-round.  A stable, accessed on Congress Street, sat within the rear yard.

A century before Sixth Avenue mowed a swatch through Greenwich Village, 15 King Street sat within a quiet residential neighborhood.  map by G. W. Bromley & Co. from the collection of the New York Public Library.

The house became home to the Barber Badger family by the early 1830s.  Born in Coventry, Connecticut on June 24, 1793, Badger was an editor and publisher.  He was the original editor of The Christian Advocate and Journal, founded in 1826.  He resigned in 1831 to establish the New York Weekly Messenger, acting as its publisher and editor.  He and his wife Sarah had a son, Thomas B. Watt Badger, born in 1819.

On Monday morning, June 10, 1833, Thomas and at least one of his parents had a particularly heated argument.  The teen left the house and disappeared.  If his parents thought he would cool down and return, they were mistaken.  A week later, the frantic couple placed a heartfelt notice in the Evening Post.  Saying Thomas had "left his parental home...under circumstances peculiarly painful," the detailed description noted, "He was a bright intelligent lad, in the 14th year of his age; rather full face, fair skin and large black eyes; the nail on the fore finger of the right hand had been torn nearly off by an accident, and has not yet grown out."  After describing his clothing, the notice said, 

He left home without hat or cap, but may have obtained one since.  Any person who shall return the lad to his parents, No. 15 King street, New York, or inform them where he may be found, shall be rewarded for the trouble and expense which they may incur in such a deed of mercy and benevolence.

It appears the youth was found.  A Thomas Badger was listed as a silver merchant in New York a decade later.

Sarah B. Badger died at the age of 52 on March 15, 1837.  As was customary, her funeral was held in the parlor at 15 King Street two days later.  Within three years Barber Badger left the house, which became home to the Gideon Fountain family.

A merchant doing business on Whitehall Street, Fountain had deep American roots.  His first French Huguenot ancestor, named de la Fontaine, arrived in Staten Island before 1658.  Gideon and his wife, the former Maria Slover, had six children, Jansen, Loo B., Emma Slover, Kate, Mary Ann, and Eliza Ross.  Despite what must have been snug conditions, the Fountains took in a boarder.  In 1840 it was James W. Greenman.

Gideon Fountain was highly involved in local politics.  He was a member of the Henry Clay Club of the Eighth Ward, and was on its Committee of Arrangements for a ball held at the Tivoli Saloon (the former Aaron Burr mansion nearby) in February 1842.  He ran for alderman on the Whig ticket in 1843, receiving a blistering assessment in an anonymous letter to the editor of the New York Herald in April that year.  The writer said Fountain's "intentions are pure, but [he is] a decided flash in the pan."

Youngest daughter Eliza Ross Fountain created this charming sampler in 1827 at the age of 9.  image via samplings.com.  

That year, Fountain served as the Chairman of the  Inspectors of Election in the Eighth Ward.  Things got especially heated during a meeting on November 8.  Two months later, on January 5, 1844, the New York Herald reported, "James McMurray and Peter Crawford were put on trial for an assault and battery on Gideon Fountain."

On February 12, 1848, the New York Herald reported that the State Senate was considering Gideon Fountain's nomination for Harbor Master, a responsible and coveted position.  He was confirmed and would hold the position of Harbor Master for years.  It necessitated his relocating his family to Brooklyn.

The King Street house became home to Calvin Demarest, a carman (a driver of a delivery vehicle).  Living with the family in 1856 and '57 was James H. Demarest, also a carman and presumably a son or brother.  Like the Fountains, the Demarests took in a boarder.  In 1860, for instance, their boarder was policeman Joseph Halsted, and in 1872 Howard Barrett, another carman, lived with the family.

In March 1873, Calvin Demarest hired architect J. C. Doremus to design a full-height, 10-foot extension to the rear of the house.  The extensive renovations cost him the equivalent of $30,000 in 2024.  It was most likely at this time that the quarter-round window in the attic was bricked shut.

Nine years later, on April 28, 1882, Demarest sold 15 King Street to milk dealer Louis H. Muller for $12,000.  The figure would translate to about $354,000 today.

Around 1890 Muller retired.  It appears that several of the people with whom he associated were less than respectable.  On August 20, 1891, The New York Times reported that he had furnished the $4,000 bail to get Edward Bechtodt, "the green-goods swindler," out of jail.  The article said Muller "swore that he owned real estate worth $35,000."  ("Green goods" was a 19th century term for counterfeit money.)

Two years later, on July 26, 1893, The Evening World began an article saying, "The notorious Katie Metz was again a prisoner in Jefferson Market Court this morning.  Katie is one of the boldest of the many disorderly women [i.e. prostitutes] who frequent the Tenderloin district, and she has been arrested more times than any one can remember."  The frustrated journalist said, "Each time that she has been arrested, Katie has been sent to the island in default of bail, and she has always managed to get the bail."  

As an example, he noted, "she was arrested June 7 and sentenced to one month on the island.  Louis H. Muller, of 15 King street, became her surety in the sum of $400."

Barber Badger's stable sat where the garage door can be seen today.

Like all well-heeled families in Manhattan, the Mullers summered away from the city.  And summer homes, like townhouses, required help.  On June 17, 1896, an  advertisement appeared in The World that read, "Housework--German girl for private family going to country; good wages.  Mrs. L. Muller, 15 King st."

In the first years of the 20th century, the neighborhood around 15 King Street had become one of Italian immigrants.  In April 1917, Muller leased the house to Dr. Alfred Benevento.  

On May 12, 1919, the doctor's nephew, Attillio Graziano, was discharged from the army and moved in with him.  Formerly a drug clerk, Graziano had served with the 305th field Hospital overseas during World War I.  Like many returning servicemen, he suffered from what today would be diagnosed as post traumatic stress disorder.  The day after his nephew moved in, Dr. Benevento discovered the 23-year-old dead from an overdose of morphine.  The Sun reported, "Dr. Benevento said he evidently had miscalculated the quantity of drug which he took to quiet his nerves."

In 1920 Dr. Alfred Benevento replaced the old Badger stables with a "private garage," as described in Department of Building records.  He would not enjoy it for long, however.  Two years later Louis H. Muller sold the property to Alberto Baratta. 

Dr. Benevento's garage is seen here around 1940.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

When Baratta  purchased the property, Sixth Avenue still ended at Carmine Street.  In 1925 the massive project of extending the avenue southward was begun.  It wiped out hundreds of buildings, narrowly skirting 15 King Street and virtually erasing Congress Street.  

photo by Edmund Vincent Gillon from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Dr. Anthony J. Poggi, Jr. and his wife Marie lived in the house after mid-century.  Poggi received his degree from the New York College of Dentistry on June 14, 1923.  The couple had two daughters, Frances and Evangeline.  Marie Poggi, described by The Villager as "a lifelong Villager," died in the King Street house on April 27, 1965.  

A renovation completed two years later resulted in a two-family home.  Other than expected alterations like replacement windows, outwardly the venerable house is little changed after 200 years.

photographs by the author

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