The 1861 Nos. 79-81 Leonard Street

 

In 1859 William C. Walker and Marion Penman demolished the two story buildings at 79 and 81 Leonard Street (likely converted former residences) and began construction of a modern store and loft building.  Completed in 1861, its cast iron storefront included fluted Corinthian columns that upheld an entablature and modillioned cornice.  

The four upper stories were faced in white marble.  Worthy of a doge's palace, the second and third floor windows were capped with dignified Renaissance inspired pediments.  The second floor openings were fronted by elegant, blind balustrades.  The architect gave the façade the appearance of two buildings with quoins that flanked each three-bay-wide section, and by separate marble cornices.

Decades later, in December 1912, the trade magazine Silk would recall, "this immediate neighborhood in Leonard Street has been a Mecca for buyers of drygoods and silks for nearly three-quarters of a century."  And so, 79-81 Leonard Street filled with textile-related tenants.

Among the earliest was the dry goods firm of Van Volkenburgh, Bro. & Co., headed by Edward and Philip Van Volkenburgh.  In June 1864, it had an opening for a teen boy, the advertisement for which was specific:

Wanted--By a dry goods jobbing house, a boy, of from 16 to 18, to learn the business; one residing with his parents and bringing good references preferred.  Apply to Van Volkenburgh, Bro. & Co., 79 and 81 Leonard st.

Simultaneously, one of the brothers was looking to fill a personal position.  Directly under the advertisement for the teen office worker, another read:

Wanted--A Protestant coachman, to go a short distance in the country; must understand the care of a cow.  First rate reference required.  Apply to 79 and 81 Leonard st.

In 1871, the newly-formed Townsend & Montant, "mercantile auctioneers," leased a large space in the building.  Its purpose was to liquidate manufacturers' left over stock at the end of a season, or the inventory of businesses that had gone bankrupt or otherwise closed.  

Townsend & Montant would remain in the building at least through 1895, conducting sales of sometimes staggering amounts of textiles.

The Evening Post, October 8, 1872, (copyright expired)

An auction held in May 1876, however, was special.  The New York Herald reported on May 24, "This sale was ordered by the directors and treasurers of many of the greatest manufacturing companies in the country for the purpose of fixing a price for the goods to be offered.  For a long time past there has been no little want of confidence among the dry goods merchants of New York on account of the instability of prices."  The article called the auction "a very significant event in the annals of the dry goods trade of New York, the like of which is not recorded."

The commercial vibrance of the Tribeca neighborhood following the Civil War was reflected in the Leonard Street property values.  Olin G. Walbridge purchased 79-81 Leonard Street on February 11, 1882 for $102,500.  He resold it a month later, on March 17, for an $162,500.  Walbridge had netted an astounding profit of about $1.7 million by 2024 standards.

By 1895, the Germania Mills had its offices and showrooms here.  The firm's factories were in Holyoke, Massachusetts, and advertised, "fine beavers and overcoatings."  

At the time, the building was owned by the Very Reverend Eugene Augustus Hoffman, dean of the General Theological Seminary.  Although a cleric, he was immensely wealthy and owned vast amounts of property in the Tribeca district.  

In 1897, Hoffman leased the building to Deering, Milliken & Co.  Founded in 1865, it was among the largest textile firms in the country.  Extra space was sublet to tenants like W. Stursberg, Schell & Co., commission merchants.

Deering, Milliken & Co. remained in the building for decades.  An advertisement in Asia, The American Magazine on the Orient in June 1920, provided an exhaustive list of the textiles it sold, including "brown sheetings, shirtings, drills, bleached cottons, flannels, woolens, printed and dyed shirtings, voiles, organdies, poplins, etc."

The third quarter of the 20th century saw a renewal of the Tribeca district as artists moved into former industrial lofts, and restaurants and galleries took over the store spaces.  Although not yet officially converted for residential use in 1977, at least one artist had moved into 79-81 Leonard Street.  

On January 19 that year, The New York Times profiled Argentine-born artist Raquel Rabinovich, who had studied at the Sorbonne in Paris and the University of Edinburgh.  She created "subdued abstractions" in oils and "monumental glass sculptures."  On the third Thursday of each month, she held a lecture in her loft here.  That summer, the C Space gallery run by Marina Urbach opened in the basement of the building.

An interesting tenant took the store space at 79 Leonard Street in the fall of 1985.  The New York Times remarked on October 18, "The Socialist Bookstore, at 79 Leonard Street...has a vast selection of left-wing books and records."  

The store gave way to the New York Marxist School by 1990.  In March that year an exhibition titled "Femmes Vitales" opened, featuring paintings and sculpture by women artists.  Associated with the New York Marxist School was the Brecht Forum.  On April 17, 1990, The New York Times called it "a newer and more specialized theater space that serves as an artistic home to Jane Goldberg, its resident 'topical tapper.'"  The article explained, "It was the 'Stradivarian floor' that drew Ms. Goldberg, who spotted it while taking a course at the school.  But the homey, slightly disheveled space, with its battered upright piano and political posters, has just the right gemutlich quality for Ms. Goldberg's zany tap."

The Brech Forum made way for the TriBeCa Lab, a small theater, around 1992.  In May that year Upright Citizens Brigade was staged here, and in October Criminals in Love opened.

The upper floors of the dignified marble building were officially converted to residential use in 2011.  A duplex apartment engulfs the second and third floors.  There is one sprawling apartment on the fourth, another duplex on the fifth, and a new penthouse level on part of the roof.

photographs by the author

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The 1866 75-77 Leonard Street

 

On January 3, 1863, a "Mr. Alger" began construction of a commercial building on the site of two vintage houses at 75 and 77 Leonard Street.  (One of them, 75 Leonard street, had been home to the Spanish Consul-General Thomas Stoughton in the 1820s.)  It was most likely the ongoing Civil War, which depleted the North of its construction crews, that derailed Alger's project.

Following the war's end on April 12, 1865, Union soldiers returned to New York and construction in the city resumed.  That year Herman D. Alrich took over Alger's project.  His architect designed the store and loft building in a commercial take on the Italianate style.  The cast iron storefront with fluted Corinthian columns was flanked by rusticated stone piers.  Above a stone cornice, the four upper floors were faced in marble, the second story windows fronted by blind balustrades.  Each floor was defined by an intermediate cornice, and the openings of the second through third floors wore architrave frames, paneled lintels, and molded cornices.

Completed in 1866, the building filled with tenants involved in the dry goods industry.  Among the first were Petrie & Co., commission merchants, here in 1866; and dry goods importers Buckley, Sheldon & Co. by 1867.

The Chronicle, September 22, 1866 (copyright expired)

Buckley, Sheldon & Co. had an interesting contract with the Department of the Interior to supply dry goods--possibly items like blankets and textiles--to Native Americans.  In 1866, it was paid $8,146.55 by the Government for goods "fulfilling treaties with the Blackfoot nation" during the previous year.  (The amount would translate to about $155,000 in 2024.)

William Lottimer & Co. took space by 1871.  Like its neighbors in the building, the firm was listed as "importers and commission merchants in dry goods."  It was the scene of a sensational and potentially fatal robbery on July 20, 1875.  The New York Herald reported that a 17-year-old named James Murphy "entered the store of William Lottimer & Co., Nos. 75 and 77 Leonard street, and stole a box containing handkerchiefs of the value of $50.  Just as he was leaving the premises, with the property secreted under his coat, he was stopped by William J. Andrews, a foreman employed by the firm, and ordered to stand and deliver."

Murphy stepped back a few feet, then "with an oath," flung the box at Andrews, hitting him on the head, and ran.  William Andrews pursued the teen toward Elm Street (today's Lafayette Street).  Just as he was closing in, Murphy drew a revolver and fired.  His aim was off and the bullet struck the dashboard of an express wagon.  On Elm Street Police Officer Francis Caddell joined in the chase, and then the situation became dire.  The New York Herald reported:

The desperado again turned on his pursuers and snapped at the officer his revolver, which missed fire.  Murphy instantly recocked his pistol and halted the officer, who was unarmed, within ten feet of the desperado, who held him under his aim ready to fire if he advanced another step.  In a moment, Officer John Raleigh, of the Sixth precinct, who had heard of the fight, came up in rear of Caddell, and, springing upon Murphy, presented a six-shooter and persuaded the thief and would-be murderer to surrender.

The two officers subdued and disarmed the teenager, who was "marched to Captain Lowery's station house."  He was charged with grand larceny and felonious assault.  As it turned out, William Andrews had confronted a dangerous and seasoned criminal.  The newspaper related, "Murphy is a pal of 'Scotchy' Lavell's, the noted thief and ex-convict, and has served a term in the Penitentiary."

On October 8, 1876, The Evening Post reported on the death of William Lottimer.  The article mentioned, "Mr. Lottimer was one of the oldest and most respected merchants of this city."

In the late 1880s, tenants included the New York offices of the National Suspender Co., makers of silk suspenders; the dry goods firm of Clifford C. Cassidy; and importers Herman Bernheim, Son & Co.  

When not involved in his business here,  Clifford C. Cassidy was involved with the 22nd Regiment of the National Guard.  On August 5, 1888, the New-York Tribune said, "First Sergeant Clifford C. Cassidy, of Company H. 22d Regiment, though a strict disciplinarian when in soldier clothes, is regarded by the men of the company as one of the most genial of men when off duty."

Four years after that article, on August 15, 1892, Cassidy and his troops were called into action to quell an uprising of railroad workers in Buffalo.  Earlier that year the state legislature had passed a law reducing railroad employees' hours and increasing their wages.  Three railroads refused to comply, and on August 12 switchmen in the Buffalo railyard went on strike.  Before long, things turned violent and railroad cars were set ablaze.

The governor called out the New York State Guard.  The soldiers quickly realized they faced deadly opposition.  The tracks were mined and an unmanned train loaded with explosives steamed through the Buffalo train station on August 15.  It detonated, injuring three soldiers.  

As the confrontation escalated, a striker named Michael Broderick was shot and killed on August 25.  On November 4, Cassidy, who was by now a lieutenant, received word he had been charged with murder.  The Sun explained that Cassidy "was in command of a squad, and gave the order to fire which was followed by the death of Broderick from a bullet wound."  The Evening World reported, "The announcement last night unnerved the Lieutenant somewhat.  He immediately placed himself in the hands of the military authorities and will act throughout on their advice."  

A reporter who visited his Leonard Street office was told that Cassidy intended to leave for Buffalo to face the charges immediately.  "He will not wait for an officer to come on after him," said The Evening World.  A friend of Cassidy told the reporter, "This is a sad and unfortunate affair.  Lieutenant Cassidy and all his friends believe that there is not an atom of evidence on which to base a charge."  Nevertheless, the proceedings dragged for a year before the charges were dropped.  (In the meantime, possibly as a show of support, Cassidy was promoted.)  Finally, on November 16, 1893, The Sun reported, "A despatch [sic] from Buffalo announces that Capt. Clifford C. Cassidy of the Twenty-second Regiment, who was indicted for the killing of young Broderick in the railroad strike of 1892, will not be tried."

In 1905, Harry H. Simon and and Abraham L. Liebovitz, partners in the shirt making firm of S. Liebovitz & Sons, purchased 75-77 Leonard Street for $169,000 (about $5.8 million in 2024).  The firm, which was started by Simon Liebovitz, a street peddler on the Lower East Side, now employed thousands of workers in five factories in as many states.  The new owners immediately made a well-needed improvement--the installation of toilets.  Three years later, they replaced interior stairs and installed an elevator.

S. Liebovitz & Sons leased unneeded space in the building.  Among their tenants over the next few years were Danford, Clark & Co., manufacturers' selling agents; the Peerless Picture Hanger Company; and Wood & Hare, manufacturer's reps.

Among the items made by S. Liebovitz & Sons in the Leonard Street location were high-end silk shirts.  After the garments were finished, they were sent out for cleaning and pressing.  In March 1914, the firm sent 200 dozen silk shirts to the Excellent Laundry Company on Howard Street.  But before they could be cleaned and pressed, on March 19 they disappeared.

Little by little, detectives tracked down portions of the goods, some in surprising locations.  David Goldstein and Harry Bayer both operated musical instrument shops, and both were found selling the stolen merchandise.  The Sun said they "found profit in selling $5 shirts for $1.25 each."  The detectives also arrested John Menching, an expressman, who had four trunks of the shirts on his truck.  All three men were charged with receiving stolen goods.  The Sun said the detectives "have not yet any clue to the burglars."

Like Buckley, Sheldon & Co. half a century earlier, S. Liebovitz & Sons obtained a large government contract with the outbreak of World War I.  The firm supplied army uniform shirts throughout the conflict.

It may have been that army contract that inspired S. Liebovitz & Sons to branch into military type garments for general consumption.  By 1927, according to Cotton magazine, the firm was "operating nearly a half hundred scattered factories" throughout the country.  In August that year, it introduced a "new coat for men and juveniles" trademarked "Aero-Jack."  Cotton said the aviator type jacket "is made from aerosuede, a new fabric said to be controlled by the Liebovitz company, who claim it 'sheds water like a duck and stops cold wind like a wall.'"

An advertisement for the Aero-Jack jacket included an endorsement by aviator Clarence D. Chamberlin.  Dry Goods Merchants Trade Journal, September, 1927

S. Liebovitz & Sons remained in the building at least through the Depression years.  As the Tribeca renaissance transformed the neighborhood in the third quarter of the 20th century, the building saw a starkly different type of tenant.  By 1985 the Samaya Foundation occupied space.  A non-profit educational and cultural organization, its goal are "making the wisdom and compassion of Tibetan culture accessible to westerners," according to its website.

For about a decade, the space was scene of exhibitions and concerts.  On March 3, 1985, for instance, The New York Times reported, "Terry Riley, who is often considered the founding father of minimalist music, will present 'The Medicine Wheel' and 'The Song of the Emerald Runner'--two extended works for piano, sitar, tabla and voice."

A renovation completed in 1995 resulted in apartments on the upper floors.

photographs by the author

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The Fred'k Vietor & Achelis Building - 247-249 Church Street

Although Jarvis Slade was primarily a dry goods merchant, he recognized the potential in real estate.  In 1865, as the Tribeca neighborhood transformed into the city's dry goods district, he began construction on a five-story loft-and-store building at 97 Franklin Street, and the following year broke ground for another at the opposite corner of the block, at 247-249 Church Street.  Slade almost assuredly used the same architect for both structures, since their resemblance is undeniable.  And he may very well have been Slade's 40-year-old son, Jarvis Morgan Slade, who would design several buildings in the dry goods district.

The sandstone-faced 247-249 Church Street was completed in 1867.  A blend of Italianate and Second Empire styles, its five floors were clearly defined by molded sill courses.  The upper story openings were encased in subtle architrave frames.

Among the first tenants was Almy & Co., dry goods selling agents, which occupied space by 1868.  Among its clients was the Worumbo Manufacturing Co. of Maine, which made wool fabrics like "dahlia beaver" and "blue beaver."  The firm was joined in 1875 by Fred'k Vietor & Achelis, importers and jobbers of dry goods; and in 1888 by wool merchants Patterson & Greenough. 

 

The building became home to the offices of the Woolen Goods Association by 1888.  It was the scene of an "important special meeting" on November 23 that year, with members coming from as far away as Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and Pennsylvania.  A committee of 25 manufacturers and commission merchants was chosen to travel to Washington DC to lobby the Secretary of the Treasury to reclassify cloths known as "'worsteds' or 'diagonals' or otherwise" as "woolens" for customs purposes.

The late 1880s and early 1890s saw firms like the Brookside Knitting Mills and the commission house Faulkner, Page & Co. in the building with Fred'k Vietor & Achelis.  The latter was the victim of bold thieves on January 13, 1890.

The granite sidewalks of Tribeca were routinely stacked with boxes of incoming and outgoing goods.  On that day, a case containing 100 shawls valued at the equivalent of $5,000 in 2023 was snatched by three men.  A detective quickly tracked George Austin, George Wilson and Marcus Raymond to the house of Ellen Kane on Allen Street.  The New York Times reported on January 16, "The property was all there, and so were a number of burglars' tools."  All four were arrested, charged with grand larceny.

On April 10, 1896, world-renowned journalist John A. Cockerill died while on assignment in Egypt.  At the time, Walter Louis Lienau worked for Fred'k Vietor & Achelis and, it seems, was on very friendly terms with Cockerill's wife, Leonora.  Shockingly, two months later, on June 15, the Syracuse, New York newspaper The Evening Herald reported that the two had married.  The couple had gone to Police headquarters shortly before midnight four days earlier and asked to be married by a justice of the peace.  "Everything went well until the part of the service was reached which reads: 'And do you promise to love, honor and obey?" said the article.

Apparently an adherent to the growing women's movement, "Mrs. Cockerill made strenuous objections to this, and the ceremony was gone over again, the objectionable word 'obey' being left out."  Now bound as equal partners, the happy couple left in their carriage.  The newspaper noted, "not until Saturday did it come out that the bride was the widow of John A. Cockerill."

Fred'k Vietor & Achelis was founded in 1842 when Frederick Vietor partnered with his cousin, Thomas Achelis.  Thomas had arrived in New York in 1834, six years after Vietor.  Their success was such that in 1900 the firm leased the entire Church Street building for its cotton goods business, and another office was opened on Spring Street to handle its silk goods.  At the time, the firm was headed by its founders' sons, John Achelis and Thomas F. Vietor.

An executive with the firm in 1907 was Nicholas M. Smith, Jr., who had joined Fred'k Vietor & Achelis around 1882.  Manager A. R. Prior described him as "one of the most popular men in the dry goods business."  Smith was married in the spring of 1907 and moved with his "young wife," as worded by the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, to New Rochelle.  As he left work on the evening of November 22, Smith mentioned that he would be "down a little earlier than usual" the following morning, "to attend to a couple of very good customers before noon time."  Those meetings would never take place.

According to the two live-in maids, the Smiths had "an angry dispute."  Then, at around 12:30 the following morning the maids were awakened by a gunshot.  Terrified, they locked themselves in their room on the top floor.  About an hour later, a neighbor began pounding on the front door, screaming that the house was on fire.  

Fire fighters arrived and found Mrs. Smith dead in her bed, shot in the chest.  "When the firemen entered the house the second time, one of the terror-stricken maids came down the stairs," reported The Evening Post.   The other maid was trapped and had to be rescued by ladder.  Later, the responders also found the body of Nicholas Smith.  The Evening Post reported that Smith "is supposed to have shot and killed his wife...and, after setting fire to the house, killed himself."

Despite the evidence (Smith had left a careful inventory of the valuables in the house), at the Church Street offices Thomas Vietor quickly refuted the possibility of murder-suicide.  He also stressed to a reporter from The Sun that he knew of no enemies of Smith.  He therefore surmised "that robbery was the motive, and that the murderer set fire to the house in the hope of covering up his tracks."

With America's entry into World War I, Fred'k Vietor & Achelis landed a massive contract with the U.S. Army to supply "brown denim" for uniforms.  In 1918, the firm supplied 3,532,500 yards of fabric, billing the Government just over $1 million.

After nearly six decades in the building, Fred'k Vietor & Achelis left around 1931.  It received a renovation in 1932 by the architectural firm of Richard Berger & Sons.  The Corinthian columns of the storefront were replaced by flat stone piers at this time.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The remodeled building became home to cotton goods brokers Heineman & Sideman, headed by Percy Heineman.  Originally M. Heineman & Co., it had been founded by Heineman's father, Moses Heineman.  Two years after the firm moved into the building, Percy Heineman suffered a fatal heart attack while on vacation in Miami, Florida.  He was 47 years old.

Heineman & Sideman remained in the building at least through 1943.  In the mid-1940s, it was home to Tikern Corporation, makers of camera supplies.

As the Tribeca neighborhood underwent a renaissance in the third quarter of the century, 247-249 Church Street was renovated to apartments above the ground floor in 1989.  

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The 1882 Minot, Hooper & Co. Building - 51-53 Leonard Street

 

On January 29, 1881, The Real Estate Record reported that the opening of the Franklin Street elevated train station had led to increased rents and a scarcity of loft space in the "domestic dry-goods business in the fine buildings it now occupies in Leonard and Worth Streets and the adjacent territory."  The article noted that the situation was prompting the erection of new structures within the district.  Among those joining the trend was the drygoods firm of Minot, Hooper & Co.

The article said, "Minot, Hooper & Co., who now own the store they occupy at Nos. 51 and 53 Leonard street, are to build a store at No. 45."   Having seen the plans, the writer said, "we predict that this corner store will be recognized as one of the handsomest dry goods stores in this city."  The firm had hired Jarvis Morgan Slade to design the building.  And while he was at it, he was commissioned to simultaneously remodel 51-53 Leonard Street, which Minot, Hooper & Co. had erected in 1867.

The remodeling was completed in the fall of 1882.  Slade had retained much of the 1867 Italianate appearance of the building while adding modern touches like the neo-Grec style incised decorations on the sandstone piers.  Each of the five floors above the cast iron storefront was separated by a prominent intermediate cornice, and the two buildings were defined by paneled pilasters.

While the Record & Guide had predicted that 45 Leonard Street would be the star of the block, it changed its mind as the renovations to 51-53 Leonard Street were completed.  Here, J. Morgan Slade's engineers had solved the problem of gases and odors associated with indoor plumbing.  On September 2, 1882, the journal gave the head of Minot, Hooper & Co. all the credit, saying:

Mr. Nathan Hobart, in the erection of the stores Nos. 51 and 53 Leonard street, has done a work which should entitle him to the gratitude of all who expect to occupy places of business in this city, for he has solved the vexed problems of adequate plumbing and perfect ventilation...Of course, this has cost Mr. Hobart a good deal of money, but now that the work has been accomplished, other store builders can profit by his experience.

In November 1882, Minot, Hooper & Co. advertised available "sales-rooms and offices" in 51-53 Leonard Street, saying "this building has been reconstructed...in accordance with plans furnished by the architect, Mr. J. Morgan Slade."  The ad noted:

Special Attention is called to the top floor, which can be reached by the Otis Elevator in about twenty seconds.  This room, in addition to two large skylights, has windows on every side, thus securing a flood of light, with unlimited fresh air, while it is free from the common annoyance caused by reflection from surrounding buildings all of which it overlooks.

In a "special note" on November 18, 1882, the Record & Guide agreed, saying "Probably the most perfect business offices and rooms in the city are those offered to rent by Minot, Hooper & Co., No. 53 Leonard Street.  The advertisement does not overstate the desirable character of these offices.  Their sanitary arrangements are a model to all builders."

The remodeled building was so satisfactory, in fact, that Minot, Hooper & Co. did not move to their new structure down the block, but remained at 51-53 Leonard Street for years to come.

Tenants here during the 1880s and 1890s included the Lorraine Manufacturing Co., makers of "fine dress goods, flannels, and shirtings;" Amy & Co., dry goods commission merchants; and Edward T. Steel & Co., whose list of goods might cause some head scratching today.  An advertisement in January 1898 called the firm "manufacturers of fancy and piece dyed worsteds for men's wear, clay diagonals, clay mixtures, coatings, serges, trouserings, worsted cheviots, &c."

Linens manufacturer J. A. Ludlow was in the building at the turn of the century.  The firm got a sizable contract in 1907 to furnish the table and bed linens for an elegant new ocean liner.  In June 1908, The Master, Mate and Pilot reported that J. A. Ludlow had outfitted the "new Fall River Liner Commonwealth."  The New York Architect explained that the firm supplied the "table cloths, napkins, bed sheets, pillow slips, bed spreads, and hand, glass and kitchen towels forming the Steamer Commonwealth's equipment,"  It added, "The patterns on the table damask were made especially for this steamer and are held for the exclusive use of the New England Navigation Company."

An advertisement highlighted the table and bed linens for the Commonwealth.   The New York Architect, July 1908 (copyright expired)

Other drygoods firms here in the pre-World War I years were T. Russell Dawson & Co., which took space in December 1903; the handkerchief manufacturers Howland & Wheaton Company, which leased additional space in 1904 "owing to the increase in their business," according to The New York Times on May 22; and the John M. Harris & Co., "selling agents of worsteds and woolens."

W. M. Austin & Co. occupied space in the building starting around 1909.  Dry Goods Economist, August 1, 1914 (copyright expired)

The structure continued to house drygoods firms in the years following World War I.  By 1921, W. M. Austin & Co. had become Austin, Woodbury Co., while still dealing in "fine cotton goods."  Engel-Upmann & Co. moved into the building upon its establishment in 1919, and E. O. Barnard Co., shirtings merchants, was here well into the 1920s.

The Haberdasher and The Clothier and Furnisher, June 1926

During the Depression years, space was taken by the Downtown Textile Workers Committee, a industry political group.  On October 31, 1933, during the mayoral campaign, members gathered to hear an address by Dr. William Jay Schieffelin, chairman of the Committee of One Thousand.  The New York Sun said he "asserted that the one clear issue in the campaign is whether the city shall be governed by a political machine.  The people are behind the candidacy of Mr. LaGuardia, he said."

The columned cast iron storefront was relatively intact in 1941.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The garment and textile industries moved northward as midcentury neared.  In the 1980s and early 1990s, 51-53 Leonard Street was home to Gaffney-Kroese Electric Supply Co.  But an unexpected holdout was Friedman & Distillator, which opened in 1923 selling fabric to milliners.  It was still in the building in April 1993 when its customers were largely lampshade makers.

The Tribeca renaissance of the late 20th century was slow to arrive at 51-53 Leonard Street.  In 2002 the upper floors were converted to residential spaces.  The top floor, which was highly touted in the 1882 advertisement, became part of a 3,287-square-foot triplex apartment.  Holger Bartel, publisher of Travelzoo, sold the space in February 2018 for $8.9 million.

Although the cast iron storefront has been radically altered, the upper floors of J. Morgan Slade's 1882 renovation are beautifully intact.

photographs by the author

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The Marble-Faced 1862 80-82 Leonard Street

The firm of Brown Brothers & Co. was founded in 1818, a branch of a British banking house.  In his 1862 The Old Merchants of New York City, Walter Barrett wrote, "James Brown built for his dwelling-place a magnificent palace in Leonard street.  It was a large double house, with a court, and an entrance for horses and carriage from the street.  It was located at No. 80 Leonard street, half the block from Broadway towards Church street." 

Two years before Barrett's book was published, Henry Young had demolished the old Brown residence and hired architect James H. Giles to replace it with a modern loft and store building.  Completed in 1862, its cast iron storefront was executed by Daniel D. Badger's Architectural Iron Works.  The upper four floors were clad in gleaming white marble.  Gile's commercial take on Italianate architecture featured two double-height sperm candle arcades (so named because the thin columns are similar to the candles manufactured from the oil of sperm whales).  Diamond-shaped quoins ran up the sides, paneled spandrels separated the floors, and an arched corbel table ran below the marble cornice.

Among the first tenants of 80-82 Leonard Street was the "fancy dry goods" firm of Zinn, Dorrance & Co., which became Zinn, Aldrich & Co. around 1866.  That year, according to court papers, the firm sold "goods to the extent of $900,000 or a million of dollars."  That figure would translate to $38.5 million in 2023.

The importing firm of Smith & Beare occupied part of the building by the early 1870s.  It dealt in "silks, satins and laces of all kinds."  The senior partner, William H. Beare, found himself behind bars in May 1871.  The New York Dispatch reported on January 7, 1872 that he had been charged with "smuggling into this port over $60,000 worth of silks and laces.  The articles were of the most costly kind."

Beare had declared the goods at one tenth of the value.  The  day after his court appearance, The New York Dispatch was unforgiving, saying, "The proof against the accused was clear and explicit.  There could be no doubt of the intention to defraud the Government in this case."  To the writer's indignation, the jury acquitted Beare.  In what today would be a basis for a defamation suit by Beare, the newspaper accused, "How much he paid certain officials to secure this favorable ending...is one of those mysteries that only a Congressional Committee...can determine."

The other tenants in the 1870s were Strauss, Lehman & Co.; and Harding, Colby, & Co.  The latter were commission merchants for woolen mills.

Bulletin of the National Association of Wool Manufacturers, 1876 (copyright expired)

Perhaps the first of the manufacturers to occupy space in the building was the pants maker William Eichkerlin.  In 1891 he employed five men, three teenaged boys, fifteen women, and nine girls under 21 years old (two of them younger than 16).  Factory work was grueling, and they worked 59 hours per week and nine hours on the weekend.

The mid-1890s saw the auction house of Field, Chapman & Co. operating from the address.  The firm auctioned off excess stock, or the inventory of merchants that had gone out of business.  On September 10, 1896, for instance, it auctioned 8,500 "pieces of dress silks," according to The New York Times, from the mills of Ashley & Bailey Company in New Jersey; and just over a week later, on September 22, 1896, an auction of "13,000 dozen Japanese silk handkerchiefs" from the firm Lin Fong & Company was held.

The Phoenix Silk Manufacturing Company occupied a loft in 80-82 Leonard Street.  And so, when it decided to auction 15,500 cartons of surplus stock that had built up "through the dull period of the Spring and Summer," according to The New York Times, Field, Chapman & Co. was was the obvious choice.  The auction of silk ribbons was held on September 22, 1898 and drew "buyers from many of the large cities throughout the country."

At the time of the auction, Harding, Colby & Co. was still in the building, reorganized by now as Harding, Whitman & Co.  Its newest member, William Whitman, was born in 1842 in Annapolis, Nova Scotia.  The comfortable lifestyles of merchants like him were reflected in his memberships in the Eastern Yacht Club, the Eastern Country Club (both in Boston), the Union Club, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

In the meantime, 80-82 Leonard Street had been sold in 1885 for $164,000 (just over $5 million today).  In 1900, the Tuckerman Estate hired James C. Hoes Sons to install a new storefront at a cost of $1,500.  It appears, happily, that the Badger ironwork was preserved.

The updated storefront may have been for a new tenant, Stursburg-Shell & Co., the "well-known commission house" of menswear, as described by the American Wool and Cotton Reporter in June 1904.  The firm would remain in the space for years.  One of the partners, Julius A. Stursberg was proud of his roots, and was a member of the Germanistic Society of America.  It was a fidelity that may have caused him problems with the advent of World War I and rampant anti-German sentiments that accompanied it.

In August 1904, commission merchant C. Bahnsen moved into the building.  In reporting the move, The New York Times explained that C. Bahnsen & Co. was "selling agents for the Gera Mills, Passaic, N. J. and other dress goods manufacturers."

The Culebra Hat Co. was perhaps the only tenant not involved in apparel and drygoods in the building in 1909  Life magazine, June 17, 1909 (copyright expired)

Following World War I, Bedford Mills occupied the basement, store, and second floor of 80-82 Leonard Street.  Court documents explained, "The first floor was devoted to its executive, accounting, and sales offices; the basement was used for the storage of sample cases of various kinds of its merchandise; and the second floor was used for a sample room and stock room."

The president of Bedford Mills was Edward Kearns, who lived with his family in a handsome house on West 84th Street and maintained a country home in Cedarhurst, Long Island.  On September 8, 1920, Kearn's wife and two children were in Cedarhurst.  The 55-year-old sat at his desk at 80-82 Leonard Street "talking to friends," according to the New-York Tribune, when he suddenly collapsed and died.  The responding physician attributed his death to apoplexy, known today as a stroke.

The Phoenix Manufacturing Company was still in the building in 1932 when Victor H. Franklin, a son of one of the founders, suffered public humiliation.  The Sun ran a multi-line headline that read: "Franklin Held on Girl's Story / Salesman Put Under $3500 Bail in Nassau County / Maid Tells of Annoyer / Says He Entered Apartment and Wrote Threatening Notes."

Franklin had been arrested on burglary and harassment charges.  He was identified by an 18-year-old maid in the apartment of the Henry Frankels as the man who had entered the apartment "on several occasions" and who had "annoyed her by leaving threatening notes in the mail box and under the door."  A grand jury exonerated Franklin, but the damage to his reputation had been done.  In 1938 he sued The Sun for libel.

The building continued to house apparel and textile-related firms throughout the following decades.  Then, on May 30, 1994, 22-year-old Alberto A. Raposo took out his anger with the supervisor of 80-82 Leonard Street, Hector Ruiz, by setting fire to the building.  He torched another structure Ruiz oversaw at 79 Worth Street a month later.  Thirty-three firefighters were injured and one killed in the two blazes.  The New York Times described 80-82 Leonard Street as being "destroyed."

A year later, on June 18, 1995, Christopher Gray, writing in The New York Times, described 80-82 Leonard Street, as "a cold, burned-out shell."  The fire had destroyed the marble cornice, but, otherwise, the striking facade had survived intact.  "The owner says a restoration of the structure...is near," said the article, as a "projected residential conversion."

The renovation, including a restored cornice, was completed in 1997.  The handsome, marble-faced structure houses ten apartments.   The store and basement, home for decades to textile firms, houses a gym.

photographs by the author

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The Lost White Conduit House - Broadway and Leonard Street

When Abraham Hosier created this charming water color in 1782, the Tribeca neighborhood was mostly rural.  For some reason only the rear of the house was depicted.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Before the Revolution, the neighborhood that what would become know as Tribeca two centuries later was mostly pastureland dotted with farms and summer estates.  Among them were mansions of Alderman Bayard and Captain Randall and a large wooden Georgian-style house.  The latter was described by historian Hugh Macatamney in his 1918 Cradle Days of New York as standing "on the top of the Kalckhook hill before Broadway was cut through, with an extensive view from its high stoop of the surrounding country."

It was located near what would eventually become the corner of Broadway and Leonard Street.  Sometime before the war erupted, it was converted to a road house named after the well-known public house near London, the White Conduit House.

Macatamney quoted a June 24, 1779 account of one event here.   Following a service for the Freemasons in St. Paul's Chapel, "from thence they proceeded, accompanied by the clergy and band of music to the White Conduit House, where there was an elegant dinner prepared, and the day was celebrated with great harmony and brotherly love."

In 1797 Broadway was cut through the bucolic environment and the rolling hills leveled.  Half a century later, William Alexander Duer grumbled in his 1848 book New-York As it Was, During the Latter Part of the Last Century, "the levelling system was adopted which has since reduced the superficial aspect of the city to an equality corresponding with the political condition of its inhabitants."  He noted that the "scythe of equality" destroyed the "variety and undulation of surface," and leveled the topography.  

In 1857 Valentine's Manual commented that the grading of the hill following the extension of Broadway resulted in the necessity of the high "stoop."  (copyright expired)

The leveling of the area directly around the White-Conduit House exposed its foundations, giving it an odd propped-up appearance.  William Harrison Bayles, in his Old Taverns of New York in 1915 wrote "The cutting through of the street left the house high above the level, and it was reached by a flight of steps."

By now William Byram had enhanced the roadhouse to a "public garden and pleasure resort."   Pleasure gardens were popular destinations where food, drinks and entertainments were offered in outdoor settings--affording patrons an open-air venue during the stifling summer heat of the city to the south.

Hugh Macatamney remarked "It was the scene of many quiet gatherings of the middle class citizens, it appears, until near the beginning of the year 1800."   That was when the operation was taken over by Joseph Corre, the former owner of the City Tavern downtown.  Valentine's Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York in 1860 mentioned that Corre "commenced his vocation in New York by selling mead and cakes on the Battery, where he was allowed to give additional attraction to his stand by illuminating with colored lamps."

Corre changed the name to the Mt. Vernon Garden and added a theater.  Now, according to William Harrison Bayle, "Flying horses and other like amusements were the attractions of the place.  Corre opened here a Summer Theater, in which members of the Park Theater company played during the time their own theater was closed."  And nearly a century later The Circus magazine recalled "in May and June of 1800, concerts were given in which Mr. and Mrs. Hodgkinson and others took part, appearing the subsequent two months in such light pieces and pantomimes as were suitable for a summer theatre."

Another well-known pleasure garden proprietor, John H. Contoit, took control in 1809.  He too changed the name, now calling it the New York Garden.   But by now the city was inching into the the once-remote neighborhood.  Valentine's Manual noted in 1860 "The most marked improvement of Broadway in this vicinity, was the erection, about 1807, of a row of first class residences between Anthony [now Thomas] and Leonard Streets."

The relentless march of development eventually signaled the end of the pleasure garden.  In April 1847 an auction was held of the contents of the New York Garden.  The announcement gives a hint of the scope of the entertaining and the substantial patronage of the resort:

The furniture and contents of the New York Garden, consisting of Summer Houses, tables, benches, large lamps and posts, about 40 in number, trees and bushes, trays, 60 doz, small tumblers of the best manufacture, &c. &c.  The Summer Houses, both open and enclosed, were made of the best material, and in the most substantial manner, and would probably accommodate about 1000 persons.

The venerable White Conduit House was demolished to be replaced with Tuttle's Emporium, now numbered 355 Broadway.  In 2017 the property is a vacant lot as Toll Brothers City Living prepares to erect a 19-floor residential condominium engulfing the plots at 351 through 355 Broadway.

Horses, Heartbreak, and Bootleg Whiskey -- No. 17 Leonard Street

By 2013 the building was "teetering on collapse."

In the first decades of the 19^th century the Leonard Street block between Hudson and Varick Streets was lined with respectable brick-faced homes.  The Gilbert family had lived at No. 17 Leonard Street for years.   Thomas and Alice Gilbert had two sons, Thomas and Edmund.  When Alice, now a widow, died in the house at the age of 79 on Wednesday, October 11, 1843, Edmund remained in the family home.

Referring to Thomas and Edmund following Alice's death, The New York Herald said “the bulk of a large fortune has thus recently fallen to their share.”  The wide-spread knowledge that Edmund had come into an inheritance led to a terrifying ordeal a few months later.

At around 10:00 on the evening of Saturday, March 3, 1844 Edmund was sitting in one of the parlors at No. 17 Leonard Street when suddenly two men rushed in, demanding money.  When he said he had none, “the ruffians threw him upon the floor and placed a pillow over his face to prevent him from making an alarm, and immediately forced a rope into his mouth and attempted to gag him, and then tied his hands and legs," reported the Herald.

Edmund gave the men “two sovereigns and some small change” from his pocket—not enough to satisfy the thieves.  He directed them to a table in the basement where he said they would find $150 (a much more gratifying $5,000 in 2016 dollars).  They did not find the cash; but stole a few silver spoons before being frightened off.   What the burglars did not know was that just a few days previously the Gilbert brothers had turned over the bulk of their inherited money to a manager.

The break-in was a hint at the change that was taking place on Leonard Street as wealthy families were inching northward ahead of the tide of the commercial district.   Within a few years Edmund Gilbert had joined the trend and the old residence was operated as a rooming house.  Ann Freeman lived here in 1854 with her husband.  Her desperate circumstances became even more strained after she tried to do a good deed.

On June 30 The New York Herald reported “About six weeks ago a young mulatto woman, seemingly about 16 or 17 years of age, called on another colored woman, named Ann Freeman, 17 Leonard street, to take care of her child for a few house.  Mrs. Freeman, supposing she was one of her neighbors, took charge of the child.”

The mysterious teen was not a neighbor and never returned.  Ann Freeman found herself taxed with caring for an infant she could not afford.   On Wednesday night, June 28, the nine-month old baby died.  The Coroner deemed the death due to marasmus, or starvation.

Within a year the old Gilbert house was demolished as the Knickerbocker Ice Co. laid plans for a stable for its ice wagons.  Completed in 1856, the brick-clad structure stood three stories tall.  Interestingly, it appears that the structure was always designed with residential space above the stable. 

The headquarters of the Knickerbocker Ice Company was at No. 432 Canal Street.  The New York Times, in 1863, described the firm as “the largest Ice Company in this City, and carries on a most extensive business at home and abroad.  Considerable quantities of ice are annually shipped from this house.”

In 1872 Knickerbocker Ice attempted to sell its Leonard Street building.  An advertisement in The New York Herald offered “Business property, 17 Leonard Street; three story brick House and Stable, covering nearly whole lot, cheap.”

The neighborhood around the Knickerbocker Ice stables was becoming the center of the Produce District.  When the building did not sell, the firm edited its advertisement to reflect the area's new personality.  On June 15, 1873 an ad appeared in The New York Herald that read “Valuable Lot, in Rapidly Improving Neighborhood, with three story Building, 17 Leonard street, will be sold low, on easy terms.  Apply to Ice Company, 432 Canal Street.”

After three years of trying, the Knickerbocker Ice Company finally sold No. 17 Leonard Street in June 1875.  The buyer, Horace K. Thurber, who owned the H. K. Thurber & Co., paid $20,000 for the building. 

As the Knickerbocker Ice Company had done, Thurber & Co. leased the upper residential rooms.  The impoverished tenants led difficult lives.  On February 15, 1882 The New York Times published a one-sentence article weighed down by tragedy.  “Joseph J. Bradley, aged 14 months, was accidentally drowned last night in a wash-kettle at No. 17 Leonard-street.”  Also living here at the time was Thomas Redmond, whose occupation was listed as “clerk.”

On June 27, 1887 Horace K. Thurber sold the property to John Campbell for $25,000.  New ownership changed nothing on the upper floors, which were occupied mostly by Irish immigrants.

One of them, John Gallagher, was an avid boxing fan.  He was a member of the Greenwich Athletic Club, as was Martin Kendrigan.  On the afternoon of February 19, 1893 the two men were talking about two popular fighters, “Gentleman Jim” Corbett and Charlie Mitchell, the champion of England.  Unfortunately the two were on opposite sides of the discussion.

The Evening World reported the following day “Kendrigan championed Corbett and waxed warm when Gallagher said he was ‘a stuff.’”

Indeed, Kendrigan waxed warm enough to blurt out “I’ll show you how Corbett’ll fix Mitchell” before landing a blow on Gallagher’s face, breaking his jaw.  “Gallagher went down and out,” said The Evening World.  His broken jaw was mended at the Chambers Street Hospital and he went home to Leonard Street.

Agnes Timmins lived here around the same time with her 17-year old son James.  She took him along on the winter night of February 4, 1894 to visit her friend, Mrs. O’Brien at No. 214 Greenwich Street.  Just after midnight they left the O’Brien apartment heading home.  But at the second landing Agnes’s slipper caught in the carpeting and the 46-year old woman fell headlong down two flights of stairs.  When James reached her she was unresponsive.  He ran to the street and found Policeman McGinnis.

The Evening World reported the next day “Dr. Taylor found that the woman’s neck was broken.  She was dead.”

Michael Powers and his wife were living on the top floor that year.  The 30-year old was a “laborer” and fond of drink.  Early on the evening of July 1, 1894, according to The Sun, he “drank an enormous quantity of whiskey.”  His erratic behavior terrified his wife.

“At 7:25 o’clock last night Powers’s wife roused the neighborhood by screaming wildly.  At that instant Powers yelled, ‘Take them away,’ and sprang out of the rear window of the tenement.”

Next door was the Leonard Street Police Station and rather than falling three floors to his death; Powers landed on the roof of that building’s extension.  Inside the Section Room of the station house policemen were watching a doctor dress the wounds of a stabbing victim.  Suddenly Powers crashed through the skylight.  The Sun reported “He was unhurt by his second jump, too, and he came dancing into the section room.”

Delusional and intoxicated, he swore “Two men are after me.”  Mrs. Powers entered the station house, crying, as the police took control of her husband.  The ambulance surgeons who responded said that “Powers had a bad attack of delirium tremens.”

Suicide was a crime in the 19^th century and Powers was held at Bellevue Hospital for attempted suicide.  The newspaper noted “His wife begged hard, but unsuccessfully, for his release, saying that he wouldn’t have jumped out of the window but for his excessive drinking.”

Another tenant arrested that year was Edward Sullivan.  The 28-year old was charged with election fraud.   He offered down-and-out men $10 for falsely registering and “$7 for each and every vote they would cast on Election Day under the false names.”

Within the decade the renters above the stable would be gone.  In December 1904 the Police Department began “alterations and repairs” on the building after renting it for use by the Leonard Street Station House.   The City agreed to pay $1,200 a year rent on the building; equal to about $2,700 per month in 2016.

In June 1918 the police department sold the aging Leonard Street Station House to the Standard Rice Company.  Then, in March 1920, the firm purchased “the three story stable” next door.  Standard Rice did not keep the old brick building long, selling it in October 1922 to Frank A. Harrington.

The new owner quickly commissioned architect Samuel Rosenblum to do $1,000 in renovations, including a “new runway.”  Harrington originally operated the building as a livery stable.  But before long it would have a far different purpose.

By 1932 Prohibition agents had developed a keen eye—and nose—for detecting liquor-making operations.  For weeks in December that year an odor of molasses had been noticed coming from the stable building.  On January 10, 1933 Martin O. Hanson and six other agents battered down the door.

As they broke partially through, it was not the sweet odor of molasses that met them, but a suffocating stink.  Hanson covered his face with a handkerchief and shouted to his crew “Gas bombs!  They are trying to poison us with gas!”

When they finally gained entrance, there was only one man in the building, James Macci, who was stupefied by the fumes from an overturned 15-gallon container of sulfuric acid.  Macci was taken away, charged with possessing and manufacturing liquor.

The acid fumes had been a plot to give the other bootleggers a chance to escape through the back.  The agents were dumbfounded at what they had happened upon—what they described as “the largest distillery uncovered in this area in the last year.”  The building had been converted to a three-story liquor factory.

The New York Times reported “In the basement were two 5,000-gallon stills, from which huge rectifying columns reached to the top floor…On the upper floors the agents found a 2,000-gallon vat half full of alcohol, 350 additional gallons of alcohol and 900 empty five-gallon tins.  On the top floor foundations had been laid, the agents said, for three 20,000-gallon vats.  On the second floor were three 20,000-gallon vats and, incidentally, each was full of fermenting molasses.”

In 1937 Dominick Matera, a paper scrap dealer, purchased the building and announced plans to “make extensive improvements and occupy the premises.”  The Liberty Paper Company was still here in the 1950s.

The Tribeca neighborhood experienced a rebirth in the late 20^th century; but No. 17 Leonard Street did not.  In the period between 1998 and 2013 the building’s owner, Christopher Rolf, had been fined nearly $40,000 for violations related to the dilapidated structure.   In December 2013, while Rolf was asking $15.7 million for the property, the Department of Buildings evacuated it; the Real Deal noting it was “teetering on collapse.”

Finally, in January 2015 the building sold for $11.2 million.  The entrance is slathered with work permits in 2016 as Tribeca waits to discover the fate of the tiny 160-year old building.

photographs by the author