The Lost Society Library - 109 University Place

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

In 1754 the New York Society Library was formed.  It occupied rooms in City Hall (later Federal Hall), nearly side-by-side with the earlier The Public Library, founded in 1700 under the administration of the Earl of Bellomont.  (That library was housed in Trinity Church.)

The New York Society Library's first permanent home was erected at 33 Nassau Street in 1795.  It remained there until 1836 when its magnificent Greek Revival building on Broadway at Leonard Street and Catherine Lane was completed.

The first and second New York Society Library buildings.  History of the New York Society Library, 1908 (copyright expired)

The constant northward movement of Manhattan's residential neighborhoods forced a third move.  Austin Baxter Keep, in his 1908 History of the New York Society Library, wrote, "By 1854 plans were well under way for a new location for the Library."  The previous year, three plots had been purchased from Adeline E. Schermerhorn, widow of Peter Augustus Schermerhorn, for $18,650 (about $593,000 in 2022).  

They were situated on the east side of University Avenue (later University Place), between 12th and 13th Streets.  The neighborhood was filling with refined homes, and the vacant parcel came with detailed restrictions.  Only a building of "brick or stone of at least two stories in height" could be built, and the purchaser could not "erect, permit or suffer upon the said premises or any part thereof any public school, theatre, or other place for public amusement, or any other place for any other trade, business or occupation dangerous, noxious or offense to the neighbouring inhabitants."

In March 1855 the trustees approved the firm of T. Thomas & Son as the architects of the new library.  The cornerstone was laid that summer, and on April 28, 1856 the trustees met in "the almost finished structure," as worded by Austin Baxter Keep.  The Italianate style brick-and-stone structure was 52-feet-wide at the property line, allowing for extra light and ventilation inside.  Towards the back, it spread out to engulf the entire width of the parcel.

Architects Thomas Thomas and his son, Griffith Thomas, arranged the facade in three vertical and two horizonal sections.  The entrance was centered within the rusticated stone base.  At the second floor, arched openings crowned with Renaissance inspired pediments flanked a Palladian-style group of windows.  They were surmounted by a carved entablature announcing "Founded A. D. 1754."  A second carved plaque, directly above, read "Society Library."  A hefty cast iron cornice was crowned with a handsome Italianate balustrade.

Valentine's Manual of the City of New York in 1856 wrote:

On entering the front door, the visitor finds himself in a hall forty-seven feet long and twelve wide, handsomely paved with tessalated [i.e., colorful, geometric tiled] pavement.  On the left hand is a comfortable room for a ladies' reading room, sixteen feet by thirty.  A similar room on the right is used as a conversation room.  At the end of the hall are folding doors opening into the large reading room, thirty-one feet by seventy-three, well lights and well furnished with papers and periodicals.

It was the second floor that was the most impressive.  A flight of stairs led to the library proper, described by Valentine's Manual as "a noble apartment."  The great room engulfed the entire second floor, its ceiling rising 35-feet to an oblong glass dome.  The space was girded by two galleries which, like the main floor, contained "quiet alcoves."  The library was designed to hold 100,000 volumes.

The cost of construction had added another $55,560, bringing the total expenditure to about $2.36 million by today's standards.

from the collection of the New York Public Library

Sixteen years after the opening of the new building, it was the scene of the library's centennial.  On November 10, 1872, The New York Times reported that the anniversary "was celebrated last evening in the hall of the New-York Historical Society building...At 7-1/2 o'clock a brilliant assemblage of ladies and gentlemen--many of them literary lights--occupied the seats in the main hall."  The current president of the board of trustees, Dr. Frederic De Peyster, gave the main address, which focused on the history of the institution.

Surprisingly, the trustees of the New York Society Library were duped in 1880 when they rented a room to Albert Welles's American College of Heraldry.  On February 6, 1881, the New-York Tribune reported, "A large gilt sign over a window of the building No. 67 University-place, displays the words 'American College of Heraldry.'  Near the top of the building cut in stone are the words 'Society Library.'  This latter sign, however, is not conspicuous, and strangers unfamiliar with the building suppose it to be devoted to the purposes of the College of Heraldry."

The newspaper had done an investigation and concluded the college "which is using the names of many prominent citizens as regents and life members, is a pretentious sham."  Welles, said the article, was not only the president, but the entire faculty, and he had "succeeded by ingenious devices in getting $50 each from these regents and life members, who have no duties and no privileges of any value."  Understandably, the college was soon gone from the Society Library building.

On the evening of August 31, 1883 the janitor, C. William Ormsby, was going through the rooms, closing the shutters for the night when he "surprised a man in one of the rooms on the second floor endeavoring to pry open a drawer in one of the desks which contained some money and rare coins," according to The New York Times.  Ormsby detained the intruder and summoned a policeman.  At his hearing, 26-year-old Paul H. Rieve explained that he was a machinist out of work and was simply in the building looking for employment.  The judge was not convinced and Rieve was held on $1,000 bail awaiting trial.

Around 1896 University Place was renumbered, giving the New York Society Library the new address of 109.

When this photograph was taken in 1906, commercial buildings had begun to populate the area.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The year 1914 was remarkable for the New York Society Library for two very different reasons.  At some point between 1840 and 1854, the original parchment charter, granted by George III in 1772, had disappeared.  At the annual shareholders' meeting on April 28, 1914, it was announced that the venerable document "was restored to the library by a resident of Brooklyn."

An equally surprising story affected the janitor's family that year.  John McCarthy, his wife, and their children lived in a small apartment in the rear of the building.  In January, Anita Faithful McCarthy read in the newspapers that William Smith, a "recluse on the Bowery," had died, leaving a $200,000 estate (roughly $5.34 million today).  Smith was the assumed name of Dudley Jardine, son of a millionaire organ builder.  Anita knew immediately that Jardine, alias Smith, was her father.

Jardine had married Anita Blackwell following the Civil War, "but lived away from her most of the time, explaining that he was doing private detective work," said The Evening World on October 23, 1914.  "While he was living this dual life the child Anita Faithful Smith was born, and shortly afterward Jardine left the little family and took up his abode in a lodging house."

Anita told a reporter from The Sun, "My father deserted my mother.  I supported her from the time I was 16 years old except one year, when my father let my brother and me stay in the Juvenile Asylum."  Anita's mother had died in 1911, and now she went to court to claim her share of her father's fortune.

On October 23 The Evening World reported, "There are five children romping with joy to-day around a smiling woman of middle age in a rear apartment at No. 109 University place, and their lives hereafter will be blessed with the good things of life, while yesterday they were the children of a poor janitor."  Anita's long fought battle resulted in a decision that "she and her children are to share largely" in the estate.

By the Depression years, once again the northward movement of society caused the New York Society Library to rethink its location.  On May 3, 1936, the Chicago Tribune reported, "The New York Society Library, one of New York's hoariest social institutes, is moving.  For years it has stood on University place, grimly ignoring the onslaught of lofty buildings and second-hand shops.  Now the library can no longer take it, and its officials have purchased the residence of Mrs. John S. Rogers on East 79th street."

The T. Thomas & Son structure was demolished in 1939, replaced by an six-story apartment building designed by H. L. Feldman, which survives.

image via compass.com

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The 1861 Union Army Mustering Office - 79 White Street

Born in England, architect Thomas Thomas had established a successful practice by 1837 when he met with 10 other architects to form the National Institute of Architecture, later reorganized as the American Institute of Architects.  His two sons, Thomas, Jr. and Griffith, later joined him, forming Thomas & Sons.  (Griffith Thomas would be remembered by the American Institute of Architects in 1908 as "the most fashionable architect of his generation.")

In 1861 the firm was commissioned by dry goods importer Solomon Kohnstamm to design a five-story loft building to replace an old two-story structure at No. 79 White Street.   Its cast iron storefront included engaged Corinthian columns that upheld an entablature and cornice (the storefront appeared in Dandiel D. Badger's 1865 Architectural Iron Works foundry catalog).  The stone-faced upper floors married the equally-popular Second Empire and Italianate styles.  Paneled pilasters separated the openings.  A centered classical pediment distinguished the third floor.  Arched sashes within the rectangular openings provided the fashionable arched windows necessary to the Second Empire style.

The storefront originally featured the columns and entabulature pictured in the 1856 Architectural Iron Works catalog.  (copyright expired)

Although the 25-foot wide building would not be officially completed until 1862, the Government could not wait that long.  On April 12, 1861 the first shot was fired that sparked Civil War.

By the end of summer No. 79 White Street was filled with uniformed officers organizing the newly-recruited Union soldiers.  On August 23 The New York Times announced "Commandants of all regiments accepted by the War Department are requested to call upon Lieut.-Col. D. B. Sacket, at the mustering office, 79 White-st., where he will explain to them all the provisions made by the Department, for facilitating the collection, subsistence and transportation of recruits."

The building was also used as an interim barracks for northern units traveling to the front.  In January 1862, for instance the 1,046 men of the New-Hampshire Seventh Regiment were quartered here awaiting further orders. 

The War Department continued to use the otherwise vacant building for military purposes.  On May 6, 1862 Adjutant General Lorenzo Thomas of the War Department wrote to Brigadier General Harvey Brown informing him in part, "Lieut.-Col. Nichols, U.SA., has a building, No. 79 White-street, which can be used as an office of record and reference, and a temporary asylum for men arriving in the City."

The Union Army additionally used the building for quartermaster purposes.  The Mustering Officer, Captain F. S. Larned, announced that on July 7, 1862 he would be receiving sealed proposals "for supplying Cooked Rations to volunteer organizations."  The successful bidder would have to supply more than merely food, however.  "Four pounds of Soap and one pound of Sperm Candles to every one hundred rations is to be furnished by the contractor."

When enlistments slowed, the Mustering Office provided an incentive, or "bounty."  On July 27, 1862 The New York Herald reported "By the middle of next week preparations will be made at the Mustering office, No. 79 White street, to pay each recruit on the spot, immediately after being mustered in, the sum of $28, being part of the United States bounty.  This is as it should be, and will greatly facilitate recruiting."

Gallant soldiers who were captured and imprisoned by the Confederate Army suffered horribly.  The New York troops who were rescued and returned home were paid at No. 79 White Street.  In June 1862 Brigadier General Harvey Brown was ordered "to muster for payment about fourteen hundred returned prisoners now arriving...from the Department of North Carolina."  The New York Herald announced "Payment will be made to these men as soon as the muster rolls can be completed."  Unfortunately for the war-weary men, they were not home for good.  The article noted that they were "granted leave of absence for twenty days."

A year before the war ended the Government left No. 79 and the building was leased, as originally intended, to apparel and dry goods firms.  E. S. Jaffray & Co. moved into the third floor around February 1864.  In March the firm placed an advertisement seeking "100 first class cloak and mantilla makers; none but those accustomed to the best work need apply.  Also two or three assistant forewomen and operators on Wheeler & Wilson's and Grover & Baker's sewing machines."  Decades later, in 1893, King's Handbook of New York City recalled that E. S. Jaffray "had surprised many persons by sacrificing to his patriotic principles the great business interests which he had in the South."

E. S. Jaffray shared the building with apparel manufacturer C. W. Griffiths & Co., which moved in around the same time.  On March 4, 1864 the firm placed an advertisement in The New York Herald seeking "Chenille head net and experienced headdress makers," and six months later it was looking for  "A young man or a good sized boy.  Work light."

The substantial operation of E. S. Jaffray & Co. was clearly evidenced a year later when it advertised for "200 experienced cloak and mantilla makers," on March 13, 1865.  The firm was hiring again in August 1866, looking not only for cloak makers but "25 hands to work on lace goods" for mantillas.  That incredible success necessitated the firm to erect its own building at the corner of Broadway and Leonard Street around 1868.

The upper floors continued to house apparel firms, like B. M. Samter's "balmoral skirt" factory.  In 1871 the firm was the victim of a bold robbery.  At about 7:30 on the morning of March 7 a delivery wagon pulled up in front of the building, laden with cloth.  As the driver went in, an opportunistic thief took the reins and drove away.

By 1877 the Continental Corset Works operated here and would remain at least through 1884.  In 1886 its owners were granted a patent for the "Scented Corset."  The firm had gotten a new landlord in April 1881 when the estate of Solomon Kohnstamm sold the building to brothers Marx and Moss Ottinger for $32,300--about $800,000 today.

The Ottingers brought in a variety of tenants.  By 1887 the ground floor had been converted to the saloon of Ferrigan & Smith (who ran another saloon known as Cobweb Hall at No. 80 Duane Street).  At the same time the second and fourth floors were home to book manufacturer Edward Barr, the third held Hartwig Kantorowicz's cordials firm, and the top floor was home to Kronk & Co., cloak manufacturers.

The saloon was taken over by Friedhoff & Meyer when they signed a 10-year lease on April 1, 1891.  Like their predecessors, John P. Friedhoff and Henry C. Meyer operated two saloons, the other at No. 84 First Avenue.

The popular watering hole served Tribeca workers for decades; operated by a succession of proprietors.  In July 1897 the Lembeck & Betz Eagle Brewing Company took over the lease.  It was common practice for breweries to operate their own saloons in the 19th and early 20th centuries, giving them the opportunity to monopolize the beers and ales offered.  Another prominent brewer, Peter Doelger, took over the saloon in 1899.

Upstairs at the time were L. Rosenbaum & Son, suspender manufacturers, on the second floor; W. J. & L. Schneidermann, "skirts and dresses;" C. Yuster, makers of cloaks and suits; and trimmings manufacturer Rosenthal Bros.

Forty-five years after its completion, the building's age was taking its toll.  The antiquated plumbing caused major problems for sanitation inspectors in 1906.  The Sanitary Superintendent certified that No. 79 "has become dangerous to life and is unfit for human habitation because of the existence of a nuisance on the premises which is likely to cause sickness among its occupants."  The building was ordered vacated "on or before September 16" and a placard announcing the danger was affixed on the front.

Following the necessary upgrades, tenants moved back in, including the long-time L. Rosenbaum & Son (which by now were operated under the name of Great Eastern Suspender Company).  They would be joined by the Banner Mfg. Co., children's wear makers; and McCherry Co. by 1917, makers of handles for rakes, brooms and other tools.

The opening of the Broadway Subway line on New Year's Day 1918 was immediately reflected in the rent of the store at No. 79 White Street.  A month later, on February 16, The Sun reported that it had been leased to the F. M. Lupton Company "at an increased rental of 70 percent, over what was formerly obtained for it."

The publisher operated its bookstore in the space--a drastic change from the former saloon.  The Bookseller described its books as being "from the pens of well-known writers and in superior dress and bindings."  The firm also produced magazines like the People's Home Journal, McClure's Magazine, and the Periodical Press.

Down the block at the corner of White and Franklin Streets was the Hungerford Building, home to the U. T. Hungerford Brass and Copper Co.  In January 1919 the firm purchased the building at No. 81 White Street and leased space in No. 79 for warehousing.   Its architect, William E. Austin, broke through the walls to join the upper floors internally.  In the meantime, William Mulholland, clothiers, had occupied the second and third floors for at least three years.

In January 1921 U. T. Hungerford Brass and Copper purchased No. 79.  Immediately it brought back William Mulholland whose plans called for altering the building "into offices" for the new owners.

Case Brass and Copper Company acquired the firm in 1927, and it would remain in the combined buildings for decades.  Space was subleased following World War II to the Strahs Aluminum Company.

Nos. 79 and 81 have been internally united since 1919.

Then in 1960 the combined properties were purchased by William Abramowitz, head of the Concord Radio Corporation.  The New York Times reported he intended to use the building "for his other electronic enterprises."  Real change came, however, in 2006 when a conversion of Nos. 79-81 resulted in two apartments per floor above street level.

Times change.  Victorian women once labored over sewing machines here.  photo via Douglas-Elliman Real Estate

Sadly almost nothing remains of the historic 1862 Architectural Iron Works storefront.  The upper floors, however, survive admirably.

photographs by the author

Horsehair Furniture to Butterflies - 44 Walker Street

In 1854 the architectural office of T. Thomas & Son had earned esteem for designing some of Manhattan's most notable buildings, like the Astor Library, the Chemical Bank Building and the Broadway Bank Building.  The firm was hired by George Johnson that year for another, less prominent project.

Born in England, Johnson arrived in New York in 1823 and opened a rope factory.  Before too long his focus turned to furniture, instead.  George Johnson & Co. was located on William Street when the cornerstone of No. 44 Walker Street was laid.  The firm tackled almost every conceivable facet of furniture making--manufacturing the springs, weaving horse hair into upholstery fabric, and carving the frames.

George Johnson & Co.'s new factory was completed in 1855.  T. Thomas & Son gave the five-story, brownstone-clad structure a toned-down version of the high-popular Italianate style.  The segmentally-arched openings with their sills sitting on little brackets could as easily have been designed for an upscale residence.  The attractive bracketed metal cornice was typical of the period.

As expected, the storefront was cast iron.  Manufactured by the Architectural Iron Works, its piers were originally graced by Corinthian capitals, and a handsome entablature which included scrolled foliate brackets upheld the brownstone cornice.

Pretty Victorian cartouches announce the address.

George Johnson & Co.'s want ads testify to the broad array of tasks its staff performed.  Just before moving in to the new headquarters, a "Flax Dresser' was needed.  On March 15, 1856 an advertisement read "Wanted--An engineer to take charge of a small engine," and three days later "Wanted--Furniture Carvers to go to Cincinnati, Ohio."

The need for the men to travel to the Midwest was evidence of George Johnson & Co.'s jobbing business.  The firm not only manufactured and sold furniture in the Walker Street facility; but did work on site.  Another advertisement in March 1864 read "Wanted--Six Upholsterers to go a short distance from the city, to whom good wages will be paid."

Even the Civil War did not substantially interfere with George Johnson & Co.'s success.  The New York Times reported on June 28, 1865 that the firm had done $379,000 in sales the previous year--nearly $5.9 million today.

In 1867 the company was renamed Johnson & Faulkner.  George Johnson had grown wealthy and enjoyed the privileges that came with success.  His nine-acre summer estate, described as having a beautiful view, was on Castleton Avenue on Staten Island and included outbuildings like a stable and wagon house.

In stark contrast were the living conditions of his tenants.  In addition to making furniture Johnson & Faulkner owned tenement houses.  On September 14, 1872 The New York Herald ran the headline "TENEMENT HOUSE HORRORS" and described a "raid" by police on "miserable structures" on Elm Street (now Lafayette) and Oak Street behind it.  The police had were ordered by the Sanitary Commission to evacuate the buildings, deemed "unfit for human habitation."

"The houses in Elm street were first emptied, and the scene was pitiable as the wretched inmates removed their furniture to the sidewalk," said the article.  "The old women, so feeble that they were scarcely able to walk, wept bitterly, and the younger women and children, though not so demonstrative in their grief, were almost rendered desperate by the predicament in which they were placed."

With their scant belongings piled on the sidewalk, the families were now homeless.  Although they were ousted for their own good; there were no contingencies for sheltering them.  They were on their own.  The New York Times remarked they "probably slept last night upon the sidewalks, an alternative which would doubtless be preferred by thousands rather than spend a night in the dilapidated old rookeries in which these poor people have dragged out a miserable existence."

The Herald noted "The houses, which are unfit for beasts of the forest to huddle together in, far less human beings, were occupied by about six poor families, and are owned by Messrs. Faulkner and Johnson, 44 Walker street."   It was by no means welcomed press coverage for the firm.

Johnson & Faulkner moved to larger quarters on Greene Street around 1874.  That year the newly-formed Shackman & Katski, dealers in "cloths," moved into No. 44, sharing the building with R. Lalke & Co., shirtmakers.  R. Lalke placed an advertisement in The New York Herald in November that year that included an interesting condition.  "Wanted--A smart boy in a wholesale shirt business, about 13 years old, who resides with his parents."   (Manhattan had a large population of homeless boys, called "street arabs," notorious for pilfering.)

The following November the firm placed a far different ad.  "Lost--On the evening of the twentieth...on a Second avenue car, a Package containing check book, ledger, cash book and two invoice books, also $175 in cash.  Whoever has found and will return the same to R. Lalke & Co., 44 Walker street, will receive $50 reward."

Whoever placed the ad was optimistic that the finder would be eager to trade $175 in cash for $50.

For years the ground floor had housed a respectable saloon and restaurant, run by C. Bary.   In the summer of 1875 both Shackman & Katski and R. Lalke were gone.  The second and fifth floors were leased by Elias & Co., manufacturers of skirts; and the third and fourth floors were occupied by Goldstein & Brothers, dealers in "gentlemen's garments."

At around 6:15 on the evening of June 1 flames were seen coming from the Elias & Co.'s second story windows.  An alarm was sounded and fire fighters from nearby companies responded.  The blaze had additional time to spread when the truck of Engine No. 31 flipped over on Church Street.

While the building sustained some damage, all of which was covered by insurance, tenants were not so lucky.  Bary's saloon suffered about $11,500 in damages by today's standards, and Elias & Co.'s losses in water and fire damage were ten times that amount.

Bary apparently decided it was time to retire or relocate.  The high-end nature of the establishment was evidenced in the auction sale in August 1875.  Offered to the highest bidder were "a fine Bar and back Bar, Cigar Stand and Showcases; also about 200 Chairs, 40 Tables, Glassware, Crockery, Oil Paintings, Mirrors, Sideboard" along with office furniture and the stoves and ranges of the kitchen.

Although Goldstein & Brothers's stock was only "slightly injured," according to The New York Herald, they too would shortly close their business.  On December 29, 1876 the same newspaper would report shocking news.

"Isidore Goldstein and A. Goldstein, formerly doing business at No. 44 Walker street as clothiers, were arrested on Wednesday night last, by United States Deputy Marshal Bernhard, on a criminal charge of fraudulent bankruptcy."  Their bail was fixed at a staggering $235,000 in today's dollars.

In 1880 Hewlett Scudder purchased No. 44 from George Johnson's estate.  A well-respected businessman and vice-president of the Union Square Savings Bank, he too would soon be repairing fire damage--but he seems to have come out better off.

On October 21, 1881 architect D. H. King, Jr. filed plans to "repair damage by fire; cost, $2,000," as recorded in the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide.  Insurance documents later revealed Scudder received $24,967 in compensation.

Scudder's tenants continued to be related to the garment industry.  In 1882 S. B. Nichols & Co. was in the building, dealers in bargain-priced sewing threat.  An advertisement in The Sun in June that year read "Try the 'Home' Spool Cotton--Works on all sewing machines.  It takes the place of six-cord and all high price threads."

M. Homberger, maker of cloaks and R. Wolff & Co., dealer in leather goods, were here in 1891 when yet another fire broke out at 4:14 a.m. on the fifth floor.   The blaze was quickly extinguished, but Rudolph Wolff learned his lesson--he took out $25,000 in fire insurance a few weeks later.

At the turn of the century Lewis Meyer's small clothing factory employed just four men who worked 54 hours each week.  I. Beaver made suspenders and that firm, too, had only four employees.  M. Fine & Sons, makers of overalls, was apparently a more substantial operation.  That company, which was here for several years, ran afoul of the City's Department of Labor in 1902.

Factory inspector M. J. Flanagan cited all three partners--Henry, Isidor and Morris Fine--for having unsanitary conditions.  The restroom was not "properly ventilated and clean."  Henry and Isidor were fined $25 each in a hearing on November 24, 1902.  Their father's fine was suspended.

Throughout the first decades of the century apparel firms called No. 44 home.  In 1905 the tenant list included pants manufactures L. Gordan & Sons and A. J. Abrams & Son, and "men's clothing" makers Kaplan & Safferstein.  In 1917 Majestic Neckwear Co. moved in in December.

By the 1920's the Victorian factory buildings were outdated and, in many cases, dilapidated.  The uncomfortable conditions of No. 44 Walker Street were evidenced in a leasing ad in February 1920.  For whatever reason the entire building was vacant.  The lofts were offered for immediate possession and noted "Hoist.  No heat.  Rent reasonable."  ("Hoist" meant there was no true freight elevator.)

The last few decades of the century saw change come to Tribeca.  Lofts and stores became galleries, apartments and restaurants.  In 1961, even before No. 44 underwent a city-approved conversion to apartments, abstract expressionist artist Ed Ruda and his wife, Maria, a native American activist and and actor, moved in.  Before his death in 2014, according to current resident Elisa Casas, the couple lived on every floor of the building.  Casas, who with her husband purchased the second floor from Ruda in April 1994, commented that the artist "told me great stories about being raided in the middle of the night by the police (before the building was zoned for residential use."

A 1986 renovation had resulted the official residences, one per floor, at No. 44 Walker Street.  The ground floor became was converted to The Home for Contemporary Theatre and Art.  Among its first productions was Sleeping Beayoody: Or, To Sleep Perchance to Dream by the Appleseed Players that April.  New York Magazine called it "A farcical play that deals with self-esteem."

Scraps of the Corinthian capitals still cling to sections of the cast iron piers, and a single bracket survives to hint at the lost elegance of the entablature.

By the time Casas took the second floor, the basement had become The Blue Angel Cabaret, deemed by Casas as "classy."  She said, "It became famous because Drew Barrymore took off her clothes and performed there and then talked about it on David Letterman."

In 2004 one apartment was home Mark Seth Lender and his wife, Valerie Pettis.  Lender, a conservation columnist for the Connecticut newspaper the Shoreline Times envisioned an environment-friendly use for the roof.  On December 5 that year New York Times journalist John Freeman Gill reported that "they have planted their rooftop with 2,100 square feet of forest intended to provide habitat for birds and butterflies."

Lender explained "If I plant this right you could sit here and be very quiet and you'll see birds that'll knock your brains out."

In the meantime, the brains of pedestrians at ground level remain intact, as is nearly all of the handsome facade of T. Thomas & Son's 1855 brownstone factory.

photographs by the author
many thanks to reader Elisa Casas for her valuable input