The Lost Peter Schermerhorn House - 6 Great Jones Street

 

from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Peter Schermerhorn was born in Stoutenburgh's (later renamed Hyde Park), New York on April 22, 1781.  He was one of six children born to Peter and Elizabeth Schermerhorn.  The family was one of the oldest and wealthiest in New York.  The first Schermerhorns were living in New Amsterdam by 1654. 

Peter joined his father's ship chandlery firm in 1802 at which point it was renamed Peter Schermerhorn & Son.  His brother, Abraham, joined the firm in 1808.  Following their father's death in 1809 they reorganized it as Schermerhorn & Co.

On April 5, 1804 Peter married Sarah Jones, the daughter of John and Eleanor Jones.   They purchased the former Robert Dickey mansion at No. 67 Greenwich Street.  Peter and Sarah would have six children, two of whom died in childhood.

In 1842 Peter began construction on a new residence at the corner of Great Jones and Lafayette Place in one of the most exclusive residential districts of the city.  Completed in 1843 it was a free-standing brick and brownstone mansion.  Its prim design featured a rusticated base where a short stoop led to a shallow portico capped by a swan's head pediment.  

Shortly after moving into the new town residence, Schermerhorn established a summer estate, "Belmont Farm," overlooking the East River around 84th Street.  He had purchased part of the land from John Hardenbrook in 1818 and added Sarah's portion of her father's country seat following his death.  

from the collection of the New York Public Library

Sarah Schermerhorn died in the Great Jones house on April 28, 1845.  Somewhat surprisingly, given his mother's recent death, William Colford Schermerhorn married Ann Elliott Huger Cottonet five months later, on September 24.  The couple took up residency with Peter.  William's unmarried brother, Edmund Henry, who was 30 years old at the time, also lived in the house.

Unlike his father and uncle, William went into law.  He was admitted to the bar in 1842 and eventually took over the management of the massive Schermerhorn estate.  

Peter Schermerhorn died in the Belmont Farm house on June 23, 1852.  The house on Great Jones Street was suddenly transformed into a social center.  

William Colford Schermerhorn Courtesy of the Lenox Library Association.

Ann Schermerhorn, like her husband's cousin Caroline Schermerhorn Astor, was determined to be a social leader.  In her 1868 book The Queens of American Society, Elizabeth Fries Ellet wrote, "Mrs. William Schermerhorn has given entertainments to the delight of the fashionable of New York.  She was Miss Continet [sic], and was remarkable for beauty and grace, and for the elegance of her reunions."

Her most notable "reunion" in the Great Jones house was her "bal costumé de rigueur" in 1854.  Six hundred invitations were sent out for the costume ball.  Guests were instructed that costumes of the court of Versailles during the reign of Louis XV were required.  Elizabeth Ellet recalled "The dresses, exclusive of jewelry, were said to have cost between forty and fifty thousand dollars; the jewelry over half a million."  Ann carried out the details of the theme as far as having period uniforms made for the servants and insisting that the gentlemen who attended shave off their beloved whiskers, moustaches and sideburns.

Newspapers were often critical of the ostentatious waste of the upper classes at a time when the city teemed with destitute citizens.  The New York Times was merciless in its ignominy.  "On Monday, the 27th of February, the new outbreak of folly came to its full manifestation," it said.  "Nobody...was admitted into the vast saloons of Mme. S., in Great Jones street, (which, when thrown together, are actually fifty feet in length!) whose ancestors had not, some fifty years before, industriously scrubbed, in person, the door steps of their own houses."

The article went on at length, ridiculing the wealthy.  In describing two 18th century style quadrilles, it called the dancers "heavy, clownish nabobs of Wall street," and said "It was more like a dance of some half domesticated bears than anything else; and even it ceased to be amusing after a time."

In 1860 William, Ann and their five children moved to an new house on West 23 Street, just west of Fifth Avenue.  Edmund Henry continued on in the family home.  

A life-long bachelor, Edmund lived off his inherited fortune.  He entertained in the Great Jones house, albeit not so lavishly as his sister-in-law.   Every gentleman of the 19th century kept a detailed diary, but the contents were private.  Subsequently they were routinely burned upon the death of their authors.  But in the 1930's the diaries of wealthy attorney George Templeton Strong were discovered and published.  In it he spoke of being invited to Edmund's home for an afternoon musicale which he deemed "very agreeable on the whole."

During the Civil War Congress passed a conscription act, creating the first war-time draft in United States history.  It provided a loophole for the wealthy in that exemptions could be purchased for $300--about $5,000 today--or they could pay for a substitute.  Not surprisingly, on September 4, 1864 the list of the "names of Patriotic Gentlemen who have furnished substitutes in advance of the draft" published in The New York Times included the Edmund H. H. Schermerhorn.

Edmund was a life-long member of the Emanuel Church, but a sermon by the Rev. E. H. Porter ended his church-going "very unexpectedly," as worded by The Telegraph.  The article said the rift was "all because the rector preached a sermon which did not suit him.  The sermon was aimed at men whose only object in life was to acquiring [sic] of wealth, and Mr. Schermerhorn had an idea that the discourse was a personal one."

In 1872, as commercial structures increasingly engulfed the neighborhood, Edmund left the Great Jones Street house.  The Schermerhorn family still owned the old Dickey mansion Peter Schermerhorn had purchased six decades earlier.  Somewhat surprisingly, Edmund commissioned architect Detlief Lienau (who had designed William's mansion on West 23rd Street) to remodel the vintage structure.

The Great Jones Street mansion that had been the scene of what one author described as "New York's most extravagant ball" became a rooming house and then the Law School of Columbia University.  It was almost lost on the Fourth of July, 1874, when fireworks landed on the roof and sparked a fire.

In 1877 William Schermerhorn demolished the old family home and hired eminent architect Henry J. Hardenberg to design a commercial structure on the site.  The magnificent Schermerhorn Building survives.

photo by Beyond My Ken

The Lost Diocesan House - 416 Lafayette Street

Rampant griffins holding shields perch along the stone stoop railing, and stained glass fill the upper portions of the first floor windows.  The openings along the side retain their Greek Revival appearance.  from the collection of the New-York Historic Society

In the early 1840s, Lafayette Place remained one of Manhattan's most exclusive residential areas.  The elegant, marble-faced LaGrange Terrace, completed in 1833, set the tone and was soon followed by wide Greek Revival-style mansions.

Benjamin Lincoln Swan's 45-foot-wide home at 29 Lafayette Place edged up to the southern edge of LaGrange Terrace.  Faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone, it was four stories tall above the basement level and featured a cast iron balcony along the parlor level and a columned portico.

An early stereopticon slide of LaGrange Terrace caught a sliver of the Swan mansion (left).

Born in Charlestown, Massachusetts in 1787, Swan had come to New York City in 1810, forming the firm of Benjamin L. Swan & Co. the following year.  He married Mary C. Saidler in 1816 and had six children: Benjamin Jr., Edward, Mary, Robert, Otis and Frederick. 

Eminently successful and wealthy, Swan retired from active business in 1822 to devote his time "to the service of his fellow-citizens," according to historian William Van Rensselaer Miller in his 1896 Select Organizations in the United States.  While technically retired, he remained an active member of the Chamber of Commerce and a director in the Bank of America and in the New York Life & Trust Co.  He was a force within the American Bible Society for decades.

In 1842 sons Robert, Benjamin and Otis were still living in the house.  Benjamin was a respected shipchandler at 30 South Street, and Otis was a lawyer with offices on Wall Street.  Mary had married Charles N. Fearing, of Fearing & Hall dry goods, in 1839 and the couple, too, lived in the Lafayette Place house.

In 1855, four of the Swan sons formed the dry goods firm of Frederick G. Swan.  Benjamin and Edward married sisters, Caroline and Julia Post. (Benjamin and his wife moved to their own mansion on Leroy Place and then to 5 West 20th Street around 1861.)  Almost all the Swan children maintained summer estates in Oyster Bay, Long island.

Disaster came on February 7, 1855 when an overheated flue sparked a fire on the third floor around 3:20 in the afternoon.  The New York Herald reported, "The inmates of the house soon found it was beyond their control, and an alarm was given."  The fire fighters found "that the fire had spread between the lathe and plaster and run from floor to floor."

The intense smoke make it nearly impossible for the men to grope their way through the house.  "Great exertions were made to save the furniture, and most of it was taken out from the parlors; but on the upper stories very little was removed, in consequence of the dense smoke."  The article noted that police moved in to protect the neighboring houses "from depredations of thieves, of which there were a large number very ready to enter the houses, under the pretense of assisting to save property."

The frigid February temperatures hampered the fight, The New York Times noting that the water froze in the hose.  When the fire was finally extinguished at 7:30 that evening, the top floors were gutted and the lower floors flooded with freezing water.  Damages to the house were estimated at $15,000 and to the furnishings $10,000 (a total of about $731,000 today).

Following Mary Swan's death in 1857, Mary Fearing, most likely, took over the task of running the household.  She seems to have had her hands full in keeping the positions necessary to run a residence filled with adults and children.

Her regular advertisements, always in The New York Herald, were similarly worded.  On April 22, 1858 she looked for, "A steady woman, as cook in a private family; one who understands her business thoroughly" and six months later she sought "Wanted--In a private family, a respectable woman as laundress; one that understands her business and is willing to make herself generally useful."  (Being "generally useful" was necessary on non-laundry days.)

On a single day in October 1860 two advertisement ran, one for "An experienced woman, as waitress, in a private family" and another for a "steady, quiet woman, as laundress."  As always they should "understand her business thoroughly."  A "waitress" was a polished maid whose duties were to serve in the dining room, bring tea or other refreshments to the family, and handle similar responsibilities above those of a chamber maid.

Following Benjamin Swan's death in 1866, Mary and Charles Fearing remained at 29 Lafayette Street.  By now Charles had retired from his position as senior partner in the Auburn Wool Works.  Their two sons, Edward and Charles, soon left.  Charles married Mary Putnam on July 9, 1866 and in 1868 opened his stock-brokerage office.  The couple summered in Newport.  Edward initially entered his father's firm, before marrying and later going into the commission business.

Mary and Charles received devastating news in the early morning hours of June 20, 1881.  Edward took his life in his summer home in the Finger Lakes district.  A dispatch received at The New York Times from Auburn, New York read "Edward Fearing, the son of a wealthy resident of New-York, committed suicide here by taking poison last night."  The New York Times added, "Mr. Charles N. Fearing, on receiving a dispatch announcing his son's death, yesterday morning, immediately started for Auburn, leaving his wife prostrated by grief."

Around New Years Eve 1885, Charles N. Fearing fell ill with pneumonia.  He died on January 6, 1886 in the Lafayette Place house at the age of 75.  The Swan children soon put the family mansion on the market.  It was purchased by Catharine Lorillard Wolfe on June 28 for $70,000--about $1.9 million today.

Catharine, who lived in her own lavish home on Union Square, had no intentions of moving into the mansion.  One of New York's most munificent philanthropists, she laid plans to renovate the house and present it to the Episcopal Church as the residence for Bishop Henry Codman Potter.  Catharine commissioned the renowned firm of Renwick, Aspinwall & Russell to transformed the outdated house to a modern residence.

On September 10, The New York Times reported, "Catharine L. Wolfe is going to spend $40,000 in alterations and improvements on No. 29 Lafayette-place.  The front will be taken down and replaced by one of marble, terra-cotta and brick, and a two-story extension, 40 by 70 feet, will be built."

The architects produced a striking Venetian Gothic-style structure with a white marble base, ornate carved balcony, and terra cotta decorations by the New York Architectural Terra-Cotta Company.

Formally named the See House, The Architectural Record deemed it "a kind of business 'Bishop's Palace.'"  New York historian Martha Lamb later remarked, "The old dwelling converted to its present uses now wears an appearance befitting its dignified function."

Before its striking renovation, the Swan house looked much like the mansion to the right.  from the collection of the New-York Historic Society

Catharine L. Wolfe died in 1887 and would not suffer the disappointment that Potter never moved into the house.  Instead, he and his wife, Eliza, remained in their mansion at 10 Washington Square.  The See House, while officially the bishop's residence, was mainly used instead for high-level church meetings.  And none could be more important than those surrounding Potter's pet project, the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine.

Among the first meetings was on November 8, 1887 during which the Protestant Episcopal Cathedral Committee ratified the purchase of the land and discussed raising $10 million "or more" for a building fund.  Among those present with Potter were William W. Astor, Cornelius Vanderbilt, and J. Pierpont Morgan.

The opulence of the interiors was evidenced that year when the See House loaned artworks to The Architectural League's third annual exhibition.  Among the 14 paintings were works by Fra Fillippo Lippi, Chirlandago, Grotto, Raphael, among other masters.

Around 1892, the building's name was changed to the Diocesan House.  It was not only the scene of meetings, but of church hearings.  One of the most publicized was the infamous Jenks Divorce Case in 1891.  Maud E Littlejohn and Almet F. Jenks were married on December 5, 1878.  The New York Times said, "It was a social event and gifts valued at $50,000 were received."

But things soured and Maud obtained a divorce in Newport in March 1891 "on the ground of abandonment and non-support."  The problem was that the divorce was not valid in New York State, since abandonment and non-support were not grounds for divorce.  And the Episcopal Church did not recognize abandonment as sufficient reason to void a marriage contract.

Maud was not only wealthy and socially prominent, she was the daughter of Bishop Abram Newkirk Littlejohn of Long Island.  He called a meeting of bishops in the Diocesan House on April 13, 1891 to settle the problem.  When the meeting adjoined, Maud had never been married in the eyes of the church.  The annulment decree said in part "in our opinion the said marriage was null and void ab initio" and according to the law and discipline of the Church it "was the same as though such marriage had not taken place."  Not surprisingly, "the annulment provoked wide discussion," as reported by The New York Times.

The Architectural Record, July 1909 (copyright expired)

The Diocesan House contained offices for the Bishop, the Arch Deacon of New York, the Presiding Bishop of the Church, the Standing Committee of the Diocese and the Secretary of the House of Bishop, a reading room, a private chapel for Potter, and sleeping quarters for visiting clergy.  In 1897, when Lafayette Place was extended southward, the building received the new address of 416 Lafayette Street.

In her will, Catharine Wolfe had left a generous endowment fund to maintain the property.  The church's 1907 annual report noted that the fund still had $50,000, "the income of which is to be expended for its support and maintenance."

As the years passed, the Diocesan House continued to host the meetings of the Cathedral Committee, hold trials on issues of wayward clergy and church law, and confront social problems like temperance.  But in 1915 a completely different activity took place here.  A majority of the toys children received as Christmas presents had always been produced in Europe, notably in Germany.  Now with war raging across the continent, there was no way of importing them.

On December 12, The New York Times reported, "Things were really looking serious, people said.  That was about the fifteenth of last May, and at that very moment the New York Santa Claus business came into being."  Christine S. Foster, described by the newspaper as "a young society woman," recognized the deficiency of Christmas toys and the need of unemployed older men for work.  With her own funds she developed The Old Men's Toy Shop in rooms provided by the diocese.

Workers, the eldest of whom was 84, received fifty cents a day and 10 cents for lunch.  By the time of the article there were 100 of them, making wooden canal boats, horses, cars and other toys.

As the years passed, the Diocesan House served changing purposes.  While it continued to be the center of the fundraising efforts for the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, the Church Association for Advancing Interest of Labor Library was here by 1915, and within the decade the Church Army of the United States established its offices in the building.

Seen here in 1929, the stoop and parlor bay had been lost in the widening of Lafayette Street.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

By mid-century the Lafayette Street block was one of factories and commerce.  The Diocese sold the property in July 1958.  In reporting the sale, The New York Times got the history of the building slightly wrong, naming Catharine Lorillard Wolfe's family as the original owners.  "It was the private mansion of the Lorillard family generations ago when Lafayette and Bond Street formed the hub of an area that contained some of the city's most fashionable residences."

The new owners were realty investors, operating as the 416 Properties, Inc.  They announced plans "to alter the structure into forty-one, air-conditioned apartments."  The New York Times explained, "The proposed improvements include an automatic elevator, an incinerator and modern bathrooms and kitchens."

The "improvements" did not include overwhelming architectural beauty.   And while technically the Diocesan House was remodeled, not demolished, most would agree that it has been lost.

The 1887 Engine Co. 55 -- No. 185 Lafayette Street

On April 10, 1886 the Board of Commissioners announced it would accept bids for "for furnishing the materials and labor, and doing the work required for construction and erecting" the firehouse for Engine Company No. 55 at No. 173 Elm Street.  The once residential neighborhood of half a century earlier was now filling with factories and warehouses.

Napoleon LeBrun & Son was the official architectural firm of the Fire Department.  The 1880s saw a flurry of firehouse construction as the city planned new stations in developing areas and modernized several existing houses.  Although Napoleon LeBrun & Son would be remembered for their exciting, individual firehouse designs, for several years during this period they recycled one Queen Anne model.

Engine Company No. 55 was completed in 1887.  Its facade was textured by diapered brickwork, highlighted with terra cotta ornaments, and trimmed in stone.  Three stories of brick sat upon a cast iron base dominated by the wide, paneled double bay doors.  The firehouse was strikingly similar to several others--like Engine Company No. 54 on West 47th and Engine Company No. 15 on Henry Street.

When completed in 1887, the firehouse was flanked by low, residential structures. The top floor was lopped off around 1898.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The firefighters of Engine Company 55 dealt not only with blazes in the low frame buildings from the first half of the century; but with hard to fight fires in the taller loft structures.  An example was the fire which broke out in the five-story building at No. 59 Spring Street on May 24, 1888.


Hugh McGinnis hired older Irish women to work in his "rag warehouse."  Ten were sorting rags on the top floor at 11:00 that morning when, as worded by the New-York Tribune, "a fire broke out almost under their noses."  The panicked women ran as the floor filled with smoke,

Seven women made it to the street safely.  Three others were less lucky.  The Tribune reported "Bridget O'Mara of Leonard-st., went down as far as the third-story and then tried to slide down a rope in the hoistway.  She lost her hold about sixteen feet from the ground and fell the rest of the way, breaking a rib and receiving serious internal injuries."

The central panels of the cast iron pilasters were like gently folded fabric; while the capitals were in the form of stylized flames.

By now Engine Company No. 55 was on the scene.  Firefighter Edwin Ford ran up through the flames.  He found Catharine Sullivan, her dress on fire, trying to escape to the roof.  He carried her to the roof of an adjoining building, then down the stairway to the sidewalk.  The newspaper said "She had been burned dangerously about the face and limbs."

Another worker, Mary McCarthy, had jumped from the window to the roof of the building at the rear.  Although she suffered only a sprained wrist and went home; Bridget O'Mara died at St. Vincent's Hospital later that night and a hospital spokesperson said that Catherine Sullivan, too, would probably die.

Only five years after the building's completion, in October 1892 the Board of Estimate and Apportionment budgeted funds for a new site "for Engine Company 55, now at 173 Elm Street near Broome Street."  The move was no doubt in anticipation of the proposed extension of Lafayette Place to Elm Street, and the simultaneous widening of Elm.

That ambitious civic project began in 1897 when the city condemned and demolished the buildings between Jersey Street and Great Jones Street in the way of the Elm Street project.  On July 7, 1898 The New York Times reported "Bids were opened for a new fire house at Broome and Elizabeth Streets, for Engine 55, which must move from Elm Street because of the widening of the street."

Elm Street was now part of the newly-formed Lafayette Street, taking the new address of No. 185 Lafayette Street.  Rather astonishingly, after Engine Company 55 moved out the city moved the facade back to the new property line.  It was no doubt at this time that the top floor was lopped off. The cornice, the band of terra cotta rosettes, and the brick corbelled brackets were all carefully lowered to make the alterations seamless.


The city retained possession of the old firehouse, maintaining it according to Fire Commissioner Adamson in 1914, "solely as sleeping quarters for Deputy Fire Chief Thomas R. Langford."  Three years later the city clumped No. 185 Lafayette Street with several other properties to be traded "for undeveloped land at Inwood Hill owned by private parties," according to The Sun on May 19, 1917.

Converted for business use, the ground floor of No. 185 was an automotive repair shop by 1923; and at mid century was the "surplus store" owned by Elias Ziegler.  By the turn of the 21st century the Soho neighborhood around No. 185 Lafayette Street saw the repurposing of old lofts and warehouses into residential spaces and trendy shops.  In 2004 the old firehouse was converted to a ground floor studio and a single apartment above.

In 2009 fashion and celebrity photographer Terry Richardson paid $3.3 million for the 2,800-square-foot residence.  Through it all the building retained the signature touches which make it immediately identifiable as the work of Napoleon LeBrun.

photographs by the author
many thanks to reader Benjamin George Friedman for suggesting this post

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 Mission of the Immaculate Virgin Convent -- No. 381 Lafayette St.

Lafayette Place in 1839 was still an exclusive residential neighborhood.  Wealthy merchant Alexander Mactier, whose office was at No. 153 South Street, lived at No. 6, just north of Great Jones Street.  It was an elegant four-story residence with a high stoop.  Its 27-foot width reflected the elevated social and financial status of the family.

In 1847 Dr. Alexander H. Stevens owned the house.  An esteemed surgeon, he had also been a member of the New-York Historical Society since 1817.  One of New York’s most well-known physicians, he was a Professor of Clinical Surgery at Columbia College.  The Stevens family was still here as late as 1866; but in 1868 the house was advertised for rent.

Stevens may have left Lafayette Place, like so many of his wealthy neighbors, because of encroaching commerce.  His new tenant exemplified the change in the district.  On March 18, 1868 a notice appeared in The New York Herald announcing “Madame Ferrero, No. 6 Lafayette Place, near Great Jones street, will open Paris Millinery on Thursday, March 19.”

Madade Ferrero catered to the Manhattan’s carriage trade and her imported European creations would grace the heads of the city’s wealthiest women.  On April 18, 1869 a New York Herald notice advised “Mme. Ferrero, No. 6 Lafayette Place, has now open an elegant assortment of Millinery; the new Summer Hat, ‘l’Italienne;’ also very choice styles of Paris Round Hats.”

By 1872 another commercial tenant was in the house.  Dr. Stuart advertised his “Electric Magnetic Treatment” on October 17 that year.  “Nervous Debility, Dyspepsia and other derangements treated by Electro-Magnetism.  Cures guaranteed in one interview.”

Stevens placed the house for sale in 1873, his agent noting it was perfect for “dwelling or business purposes.”  It was purchased by Parker Mann and his wife, Julia.  If the couple lived here at all, they had relocated to Washington DC by 1888.  That year on June 1 they sold the house to The Mission of the Immaculate Virgin for the Protection of Homeless and Destitute Children for $22,500 (about $578,000 in 2016 terms). 

The Mission of the Immaculate Virgin, deemed by the New-York Tribune to be “a home for friendless children,” was founded at Mount Loretto, Staten Island, around 1870 by Rev. John C. Drumgolle.   In 1880 the mission erected the St. Joseph’s Home at Nos. 2 and 4 Lafayette Place on the site of the old St. Bartholomew’s Church, abutting the former Stevens house.

In 1891 Gustav Kobbe in his New York and Its Environs explained that the Home had two divisions:  “Those in the first division, destitute, homeless boys, who await the time when sufficiently strong and possessed of a good rudimentary and industrial education they may enter some trade, store or office in which the Mission secures them work, reside in the home.  The second division is for working boys who pay whatever they can for the excellent accommodations afforded them, and are apt, thanks to this Mission, to become self-supporting, honest and industrious citizens.”

The St. Joseph’s Home was run by the Sisters of St. Francis.  The newly-purchased house was conveniently located to become a convent and chapel for the nuns.

At the time of the purchase architect Benjamin E. Lowe had just completed plans for a Romanesque Revival chapel building for the St. Charles Boromeo Church on West 141th Street.  Within the year he would be working on the Lafayette Place project for the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin.

In March 1890 Lowe filed plans to alter the old residence, including “raised two stories, one-story and basement extension, interior alterations and walls altered.”  The rear extension would take the form of a chapel.  The extensive alterations, completed in 1891, would cost the Mission $40,000 and included a handsome up-to-date architectural facelift.

The renovated convent sits to the left of the hulking St. Joseph's Home.  King's Handbook of New York City 1892 (copyright expired)

Lowe eliminated the high stoop while retaining the original lines of the entrance—resulting in a dramatic nearly two-story doorway.  The brick-faced Northern Renaissance Revival design included decorative details executed in terra cotta, brownstone and brick—a deeply corbelled cornice, decorative bandcourses and eyebrows.  Most eye-catching were the elaborate bowl-like treatments below some openings.

 

The Mission was apparently pleased with Lowe’s work.  The conversion was barely completed when he filed plans for a $275,000 church building on Staten Island for the Mission, and for a $90,000 “brick and stone laundry building” there.

The convent building also housed the administrative offices of St. Joseph’s Home.  Rev. James J. Dougherty, one of the Directors, had his office in the building.  He was shocked and infuriated when he picked up a newspaper in May 1898 and read an article in which the Commissioners of Accounts accused the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin of overcharging the city for its wards.

Among the examples given was the case of John Kane.  The boy had arrived at the home on February 4, 1892 and remained there until July 3, 1895 when, according to Dougherty, “he was transferred to the Home for Simple-Minded Boys on Randall’s Island.”

Incensed and accusing the city examiners of “gross carelessness,” Dougherty fired off a letter to The Sun.  “The Mission of the Immaculate Virgin never received one cent from the city of New York for the support of this John Kane,” he insisted.  “During his stay with us he was supported, as so many other hundreds of our boys are, entirely at the expense of the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin.”

Dougherty was careful not to say that all the boys in the Home were entirely supported by the Mission.  As Gustave Kobbe had explained, there were two types of boys housed in the St. Joseph’s Home.  The Directory of Social and Health Agencies of New York clarified in 1902 that the organization paid for “until employment is found for them, healthy boys, Catholic or otherwise, from 16 to 20 years of age, who are not criminals, but can furnish some references, and are without friends, entirely destitute.” 

The second group of boys included those who could contribute to their board.  “It also provides meals and lodgings at $2 a week to newsboys, bootblacks, and other working boys able to pay, and instructs them spiritually and mentally.”

Interestingly, the Mission opened its doors to needy adults for Christmas dinner in 1904.  The New-York Tribune reported that “Fifteen hundred men and women were fed by the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin, at Lafayette Place and Great Jones-st.  The feast lasted from noon until 4 o’clock in the afternoon.  Father Fitzpatrick greeted each guest as he or she entered with a ‘Merry Christmas.’”

The Christmas dinner for adults may have been a one-time occurrence.   In 1908 the Tribune reported only on “the waifs cared for” by the Mission who “received a big dinner and also gifts from a great tree.”

In 1911 The Sun commented with some melancholy on the changes in the neighborhood following the sale of the old Astor Library building.  “The library has held more of America’s greatest literary men than any other building in the country, and its sale to a builder for improvement with a loft building will be a hard blow to its sentimental friends.”  The newspaper added “This seems inevitable, as it is with the exception of the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin, at Great Jones and Lafayette streets the only building in that section not used for business…This row was once the homes of some of the finest families in the city.  In one of these houses Mrs. Walter Langdon, daughter of John Jacob Astor lived.”

The changing climate of the area was further reflected when, in 1918, the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin abandoned St. Joseph’s Home and “the greater part of the work was transferred to the Mission’s headquarters at Mount Loretto, Staten Island,” according to The Times.  The vacant nine-story building was sold in May 1925 to the Grand Lodge of the Order of the Sons of Italy.

The group had grandiose plans for the structure and initiated a $1 million fund-raising campaign to convert it to a “great Italian community centre.”  But, as explained later by The Times, “eventually, due to internal dissensions, the scheme failed to materialize and the Mission was forced to take back the property at foreclosure sale in January, 1928.”

By now Lafayette Place had been renamed Lafayette Street and the convent building renumbered 381.  And the St. Joseph’s Home building was a white elephant on the shoulders of the Mission’s directors.  In August 1929 it sold the hulking structure which had stood vacant for a decade.  Shortly afterward, on October 6, The New York Times announced “Demolition of an old building on Lafayette Street which, for nearly half a century, was a well-known home for newsboys and destitute children, will begin this week.”  It was to be replaced with a gasoline station.

Sobol Brothers, owners of a chain of service stations, may have anticipated public dismay at the demolition of the old landmark.  An officer of the firm promised “something special” in the form of a “super-service station” possessing “genuine architectural charm and finished in terra-cotta.”

The Times mentioned “The adjoining structure at 381 Lafayette Street is still owned and occupied by the Mission and used for its city work.”

And rather startlingly, the Mission remained in the building until 1965.  On November 8, 1965 The Times reported “After an ownership of 77 years, the five-story building at 381 Lafayette Street has been sold by the Roman Catholic Mission of the Immaculate Virgin to Albert N. Roemer, who intends to alter the premises.”

Instead, the former convent was resold to artist Robert Rauschenberg who planned to use it as the center of his artistic work.  The artist’s work, by now, included large-scale sculptures and performances pieces which required large space.  The building doubled as Rauschenberg’s home.

Robert Rauschenberg posed outside the building in 1965.  He later used the chapel in the rear to store artwork.  photo via The Standard

In October 1969 Rauschenberg left New York for Los Angeles for work.  Around 3:15 on the afternoon of October 25 a passerby noticed wisps of smoke escaping from the windows.  Fire fighters responding to the blaze crashed through a skylight on the fifth floor.  Maurice Carroll of The Times poetically reported “But the old building apparently was tightly sealed and, like a rusty red aerosol container, it squirted out billows of smoke as soon as firemen broke the windows.“

Somewhat surprisingly, the fire fighters recognized that they were in the midst of sculptures, photo montages and silk-screen artwork.  They carefully stepped around the pieces, valued at about $200,000 in total.

The blaze in what Carroll described as a “weather-grimed building” was brought under control by 4:38.  Rauschenberg’s assistant, Brice Marden carefully checked the art, including a sculpture “Oracle” valued at $120,000, and said there was little damage that could not be repaired.

The article mentioned the much-changed Lafayette Street.  “It is a bleak warehouse neighborhood.  Two oblivious drunks lurched past the fire, stumbling over the hoses that curled across the sidewalk.”

Brutal fire escapes disguise the superb architectural details, including the story-and-a-half entrance.

In 2008 the conservation architectural firm Preserv  completed a restoration of the façade that included a complete disassembly and rebuilding of the intricate brick cornice, cleaning and repointing of the brick, and reconstructing damaged brownstone elements.  The building is still home to the Robert Rauschenberg Foundation.

photographs by the author