The Lost Manhattan Academy Building - 213 West 32nd Street

 

from the Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1870 (copyright expired)

An announcement in the New York Herald on September 29, 1864 informed New Yorkers about the newly opened Manhattan Academy, a branch of Manhattan College.  It said:

This new academy is now ready for the reception of students.  Its object is to afford the important advantages of commercial, scientific, classical and moral education.  Terms: Classical department, $12 per quarter; Commercial department, $12 per quarter; Intermediate department, $8 per quarter; Primary department, $5 per quarter.

The more expensive tuition would translate to about $250 per quarter in 2026.  That initial ad, however, did not mention  the non-educational costs.  There were also an entrance fee, board, a "washing" fee, and a physician's fee.  The total yearly cost would equal $5,700 today.  

Operated by the Brothers of Christian Schools, the Manhattan Academy was organized in 1864 and chartered the following year.  An ad in King's Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York commented, "The location is healthy, and a few minutes' walk distant from Central Park."  (The 27-block stroll might not be described as "a few minutes' walk" today.)

The academy's newly built structure at 127 West 32nd Street (later 213 West 32nd Street) was four stories tall above a high English basement.  Shallow buttresses divided its symmetrical, Gothic Revival-style facade into five vertical sections.  The large Gothic-pointed arch that held the double-doored entrance was echoed in the windows of the first through third floors.  The exception were the centered openings, which, like the fourth floor, were square-headed and wore Gothic drip moldings.  A regimented corbel table ran below the minimal cornice, and a mansard-capped cupola or bell tower sat atop the roof.

Each year, the students underwent a three-day "annual examination," or what today might be called finals.  The tests culminated with an awards and honors ceremony.  The New-York Tribune reported on the 1868 ceremony on July 1.  "The exercises were held at the Everett Rooms, where a very large audience was assembled, among whom were a number of clergymen," said the article.  "The Manhattan College band furnished the music on the occasion, discoursing some very fine airs."

The newspaper reported on the academy's "rapid progress" on July 2, 1869, saying it, "now presents the combined advantages

of classical, scientific, and commercial course of instruction."  In also noted, "An excellent musical corps has been organized from among the 250 students of this institution."

A rare instance of criminality within the confines of the Manhattan Academy came in the summer of 1888.  On August 22, The Evening World reported, "George Burns was held in $300 bail, at Jefferson Market, this morning, for stealing a picture of Pope Pius IX, from the wall at the Manhattan Academy."

By 1891, the formerly bucolic neighborhood around Seventh Avenue and 32nd Street had changed.  Now part of the often notorious Tenderloin District, its demographics had severely changed as the Black community moved here from Greenwich Village.  

On January 31, 1891, The New York Times reported that the Christian Brothers had erected a new academy building at 50 Second Street.  "The new academy will be opened Monday," said the article.  On the same day, the Record & Guide reported that the "property known as the 'Manhattan Academy,' a five-story school building, Nos. 209 to 213 West 32d street," had been sold to Benedict Fischer for $90,000 (about $3.2 million today).

Fischer made substantial renovations and on February 14, 1892 advertised in the New York Herald, "For Sale on Favorable terms, the five story Building...formerly Manhattan College, suitable for manufacturing or business purposes."

The buyer defaulted, and in September 1898, Benedict Fischer foreclosed on the building.  On November 6, the New York Herald reported that he hired architect Joseph Wolf to make additional renovations.  The changes, including converting part of the building to a stable for the New York Fire-Proof Stabling Company, cost Fischer the equivalent of $195,000 today.

Fischer preserved the school's auditorium.  It became home to St. James's Presbyterian Church with its all-Black congregation.  Its pastor, Rev. P. Butler Thompkins, explained in the New York Observer on October 13, 1898, "Instead of the old 'Tenderloin,' we now have 'Little Africa,' for this has become the great centre of our colored population."  The article said, "This entire district is without a church of any denomination for these people, except St. James's Church, which was organized by the Presbytery of New York, April 26, 1895."  It noted, "The hall, 213 West Thirty-second-st., in which the congregation is now holding services, is in the same building with a stable.  The ventilation is poor, the odor is bad, and the rent is high."

Three years later, St. James's Presbyterian Church was still struggling to raise funds for a permanent structure.  On December 28, 1901, The Evening Post reported,

St. James Presbyterian Church, at No. 213 West Thirty-second Street, the only church of any denomination in "Little Africa" that ministers solely to the colored people, is still without a church edifice.  Thirty-four thousand dollars in cash and subscriptions has been raised.  Sixteen thousand dollars must be secured within the next five days, that is, by January 1, or a very large part of the $34,000 already secured will be lost to the work.

The deadline mentioned in the article was very real.  The church was about to be evicted at the end of its lease.  A month earlier, on November 26, The New York Times reported that Benedict Fischer's son, William H., had sold the building, calling it a "five-story stable."

The property sat within land that Alexander Cassatt was quietly amassing.  On December 11, 1901, he announced the "New York Terminal and Tunnel Extension Project."  The greatly abused Manhattan Academy building was erased as part of the massive venture that would bring trains directly into Manhattan from New Jersey and would include the masterful McKim, Mead & White-designed Pennsylvania Station.  

The Incredible History of 822 Sixth Avenue

 

In the mid-1850's William Walker lived in the four-story, brick-faced house and store at 470 Sixth Avenue.  (It would be renumbered 822 Sixth Avenue in 1927, following the extension of Sixth Avenue to the south in Greenwich Village.)  A hint of the original appearance of the building can be gleaned from the surviving upper elements of what was probably an identical neighbor, three doors to the north.  Walker was a "licensed keeper of [an] intelligence office," meaning that like his contemporary, Allan Pinkerton, he was a private detective.

Hovey's Restaurant, was on the ground floor of the building in the years following the end of the Civil War.  An advertisement in the New York Herald on April 18, 1872 offered:

For Sale--Chance seldom offered--The well known Dining Room 470 Sixth avenue., Hovey's: handsomely fitted up and doing a good trade; good chance for the right man; the owner has other business.

The space became Nicholas Engel's beer saloon.  As was common, a rear room in the back was sometimes used by social or political groups.  On November 18, 1875 The New York Times reported, "At a public meeting of the Republican Central Club of the Eleventh Assembly District, held at the rooms, No. 470 Sixth avenue...it was unanimously resolved that the club should hereafter be known as the Central Republican Presidential Campaign Club of the Eleventh Assembly District."  Notably, the members of the club were all Black.

In the meantime, the upper floors were operated as a rooming house.  They were home to working class residents like Ann Hurl, who listed herself as "midwife" in 1876.

By the time former boxer Joe Coburn took a room here, the neighborhood was known as The Tenderloin.  It was the most crime-ridden section of the city and possibly of the country. The streets were lined with brothels, saloons, and gambling parlors; and graft and corruption among the police was rampant.  For some reason or other, the building had been given the name The Gridiron.

On the afternoon of November 17, 1887 a policeman came cross a drunken Coburn "wrangling with a man" on West 25th Street.  When the 59 year old fighter refused to relent, he was arrested.  At the Jefferson Market Police Court, Justice Duffy proposed, "I'll tell you what.  I'll let you go if you promise to knock out [John L.] Sullivan."

Coburn protested, "Judge, I am too old for that contract," stressing that he had retired from the sport.

"Well, get someone to knock him out.  Sullivan is a big blow," said the judge.

"I'm afraid it can't be done, Judge."

With his hopes to see the famous boxer defeated dashed, Justice Coburn discharged his prisoner.

It was around this time that Major R. Poole took over the ground floor.  ("Major" was not a military title, but his first name.)  The Sun described Poole as "the colored leader of the colored Republicans in the Eleventh Assembly district, and his saloon is the concentrating point of his constituency."  Poole was democratic concerning the race of his patrons, at least during the week.  The newspaper said, "During the week days the [sic] Major is not spotted.  Any man, whatever his color, can get into the [sic] Major's place and stay as long as he has money to pay for drinks.  On Sunday all this is changed.  No one but colored folk are admitted to the place."

The problem was that selling alcohol on Sundays was illegal.  On November 6, 1892 the saloon was raided.  Saying "The place is usually crowded with colored people," The Evening Post reported that ten men were inside.  The bartender, William Lewis, was arrested.  Later Captain Coleman, a Republican candidate for office, and Major Poole bailed him out.

Shortly after the incident, Victor Francez leased the building  and moved his own saloon into ground floor.  Major R. Poole went on to a unglamorous career.  On April 28, 1917, the Lockport Union Sun & Journal reported on the passage in State Senate of Senator Murphy's "ball dodge bill."  "It makes it a misdemeanor to take part in the game of throwing balls at a negro's head protruding through a piece of canvas."  The article noted, "Several of the Senators who intended to oppose the measure changed their vote to please Major R. Poole, colored, janitor of the Senate." 

On November 21, 1893, an old friend of Victor Francez appeared at the saloon.  French-born bookkeeper Eugene Shilseny, who lived in Rutherford, New Jersey, had been out of work all summer.  Unable to find a new job, the 58-year-old came to Manhattan hoping to find work.  Francez welcomed his old friend, who was understandably dejected, and invited him to stay for supper.  At some point afterward, according to The Sun, "he stole away unobserved."

Shilseny went to the Sixth Avenue elevated station.  The Sun said, "after buying a down-town ticket, [he] entered the toilet room.  Five minutes later Gateman Nies heard a pistol shot, and before he could reach the room two more shots followed.  He found Shilseny lying in a pool of blood."

Victor Francez's stay would be short-lived.  He owed a large debt to Mrs. May A. Mathot of Flushing, Queens.  Unable to repay it, he transferred the leases of the building and the saloon to Mathot on October 20, 1893 for $1.00.  Included were the liquor license, and the "bar and back bar and all other goods."

Mathot now leased the saloon to Tripault & McMahon.  A change in proprietorship had not changed its reputation.  On August 3, 1896 The World reported on another raid.  "Capt. chapman heard that theatrical performances were given back of Tripault & McMahon's saloon, at No. 470 Sixth avenue, on Sunday nights," said the article.  He and three detectives  had "forced an entrance" the previous night.

"There were about 150 people present...On the stage two men in costume were singing, while in a dressing-room the Captain found a woman in a state of undress that made him blush and her scream."  Because the saloon had no theatrical license, the doorkeeper and another employee were arrested.

The darkest days of the building were yet to come.  Two years later John C. Ellis opened the White Elephant saloon.  On January 24, 1898, the day after a raid, The New York Times said, "It has nightly been crowded with the same element which frequented the Broadway Garden and similar resorts.  Smoking rooms and drinking halls were provided.  The Tammany regime was symbolized by a large tiger painted behind a real cage."

Police Captain Michael Sheehan posted a policeman in front of the saloon, who warned potential patrons "that the place is disreputable and a dangerous resort," according to The Sun on May 17, 1898.  Ellis petitioned Justice Kellogg to order Sheehan to stop.  Sheehan's attorney told the judge, "the place is one of the most disreputable dives in the city.  It is frequented by women of the streets and thieves whom it is the duty of the police to warn people against."  He went on to say that "bouncer...is a convicted burglar and many of the faces of the patrons adorn the Rogue's Gallery."  As for Ellis, himself, Corporation Counsel Farley called him "notorious" and said "he was formerly in the business of renting flats to disorderly persons [i.e., prostitutes]."

After making "more than 200 arrests from that house," according to Captain James K. Price of the Tenderloin Stationhouse, John C. Ellis was arrested on April 22, 1899.  After explaining the situation to the judge, Price was instructed to make out a complaint of "conducting a public nuisance."

The Sun reported, "The Captain and Ellis were close to each other while the complaint was being made out.  A fist fight between them was narrowly avoided."  On his way out of the courtroom, Ellis suggested he had evidence against Captain Price, who had earlier been the target of a corruption investigation.

I have still in my possession the correspondence between me and Captain Price at the time of the Lexow Investigation, when I saved his skin by obtaining from Jared Flagg, Jr., the evidence on which the Captain had been indicted.  But he continues to persecute me in spite of the services I have rendered him.

But Ellis could not survive the campaign against him.  On May 23, 1899 The Sun reported, "The 'White Elephant' at 470 Sixth avenue, which Capt. Price closed a few months ago, when John C. Ellis was its proprietor, was reopened last night under new management, but under the old name."  The new owner was a intimate friend of Ellis, Ignatz Gombossy.

Gombossy's brother, Simon Buttner (apparently a half-brother, given their different surnames) had run another Tenderloin "dive," the Broadway Garden.  He and John C. Ellis had testified together against Captain Price following the April incident.  The Sun said that since that hearing, "rumor has been rife in the Tenderloin that one of the Gombossy brothers was going to open a resort in the district."  It added, "Price has frequently said since the rumor started that neither a Gombossy nor Ellis would ever run a place in a precinct in which he was the Captain."

Price was apparently right.  Within months of its opening, the White Elephant was gone, replaced with Paul Salvin's Royal Garden.  Salvin described it later in court saying, that the front barroom was about 16 feet in depth, and "the balance is the big room that seats from 150 to 200 people, with chairs and tables, a carpet on the floor and a stand for an orchestra."

The change in the name and the proprietor did not improve the reputation.  On March 14, 1900 Paul Salvin was arrested "on charges of keeping a disorderly house."  The prostitutes who met their clients in the Royal Garden, took them to rooms on the upper floors of the building.

In 1901 Captain James K. Price was once again under investigation for corruption.  Four disorderly houses, which "you have raided...at least ten times," according to State Senator Moss, "are not on the books."  The "books" referred to "the suspicious book," which listed locations suspected to be houses of prostitution.  Moss noted that among several of those locations that did appear in the suspicious book was 470 Sixth Avenue.

As had been the case with John C. Ellis, John Salvin suffered constant harassment from James K. Price.  Finally, on May 2, 1902, The New-York Tribune reported, "there was one less Bohemian resort in the Tenderloin last night.  The Royal Garden closed its doors."  The newspaper compared it to the most notorious places in the district.  "The Royal Garden was in Sixth-ave., between Twenty-eighth and Twenty-ninths sts., and was of the same type as the Alhambra, the Cairo and the Bohemia.  The proprietor did not think it worth while to apply for a new license."

The end of the Tenderloin era was greatly hastened by Mayor Lafayette Strong's appointment of Theodore Roosevelt to Police Commissioner.  In her 2018 book Saving Sin City, Mary Cummings writes, "Theodore Roosevelt, Mayor Strong's choice to head the new city Police Board, set about enforcing every one of the city's blue laws, chasing down Sunday beer drinkers and casual card players and alienating ordinary New Yorkers who liked their beer, sex and cards."

The changes were reflected at 470 Sixth Avenue in 1904 when the former saloon space became the store and showroom of the Cosmopolitan Range Co.  At the time, the building was owned by Charles H. Heyser, who lived in the upper portion with his wife, Polly.  A Civil War veteran, Heyser was a member of the Old Guard, and a former Commander-in-Chief of the Scottish Rites Masons.  A shocking secret would be revealed about the couple that year.

On February 17 a close friend, Magistrate Alfred E. Ommen, was called to Heyer's bedside to draw his will.  Heyer dictated, "I bequeath all my estate in Polly Heyser, whose maiden name was Mary Ann Morris, a woman with whom I have lived happily for over thirty years."  When he was finished, Ommen had him raise his right hand and swear it was his last will and testament.  He did so, and then told the judge, "Al, I want to tell you a secret, Polly is not my lawful wife, but I want her to have everything I own, for she has been true as steel to me for thirty-four years."

As it turned out, the actual Mrs. Elizabeth R. Heyser and their five children lived ten blocks to the north, at 902 Sixth Avenue.  Not surprisingly, Elizabeth and the children, all adults, sued Polly over the will.  In court on June 8, 1904, the Magistrate Ommen testified that he had known the couple for years and said that Polly "was the only wife I ever knew he had, and I invited him and her in my wedding."  The two gray-haired women, both "in widow's weeds," as described by The Evening World, sat on opposite sides of the courtroom.  At the end of the day, having heard several testimonies about the domestic happiness of Polly and "Charlie," the judge decided to allow the will to stand as written.

The building was sold to Henry J. Schwartz shortly afterward.  He hired architect William Higginson to renovate the upper floors to manufacturing lofts.  The store space became the restaurant of Max and Sadie Gruber, while the upper floors were rented to tenants like Sol Levine's "hem-stitching" business, Max Aaron's leather goods shop, and the fur making shop of Holman & Kass.

A disturbing incident occurred in the restaurant shortly after its opening.   On June 12, 1916, The Sun reported, "After being rebuked by her husband for burning a patron's lamb chop, Mrs. Sadie Gruber, 34 years old, slashed her throat and left breast with a carving knife yesterday in the kitchen of their restaurant at 407 Sixth avenue."  Hearing her screams, Max Gruber ran into the kitchen to find her lying on the floor.  She was taken to Bellevue Hospital in critical condition where she was charged with attempting suicide, a felony at the time.

Small factories continued in the upper floors and, in 1919, the Royal Restaurant Company leased the store level.  Then, two years after the address was changed to 822 Sixth Avenue, major change came to the building.

Owners Rinzler & Cohen initiated a major facelift.  Along with a veneer of rough-faced brown brick, a new storefront was installed.  The upper facade received an Arts & Crafts makeover that, while apparently preserving the vintage pressed metal cornice, now included grouped openings within a two-story elliptical arch at the second and third floors, and a Gothic-inspired square-headed drip molding that embraced the grouped windows of the top floor.

photo by Beyond My Ken

There was now a penny arcade in the ground floor--a stark departure from the early "depraved" usage of the space--and "showroom and factory" space on the upper floors, as described by the Department of Buildings.

Within the decade the neighborhood, once the center of crime and vice, had become the Flower District--home to wholesale florists.  On June 6, 1939 The New York Times reported that the building had been purchased by the Greenhouse Flower Selling Agent, Inc.  The organization ran the Greenhouse Flower Co-Op, which described itself as "an organization of growers maintaining a cooperative selling outlet for their product and that of others."

Although still within the Flower District, the quaint little building with its remarkable past no longer houses a florist.  And while the storefront (which must have been remarkable when it welcomed customers of the penny arcade) has been altered, the building's charming 1927 appearance is greatly intact.

non-credited photographs by the author

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

The Lost "Knickerbocker Cottage" - 6th Avenue at 27th Street

The original Isaac Varian house, the central building, is still relatively unchanged in this etching.  The wings were added around 1815.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

According to the New Amsterdam Gazette in 1883, a "Hollander named Geisenheimer" captained his small ship to New York City in 1731.   After safely crossing the ocean, he met calamity in what later became known as Kips Bay when his vessel hit a rock "near the mouth of the Stuyvesant Creek."  The Gazette said "The pious Hollander saw the hand of Providence in the disaster.  He and his crew hauled the shattered timbers of his bark to the head of the creek and built a hut."

The term "hut" is questionable.  Sitting at what is today Sixth Avenue and 27th Street, the Dutch house sat unperturbed until just before the Revolution.  Isaac Varian purchased the land and had the house transformed into one of the elegant country estates that dotted the area.  The Georgian-style clapboard manse featured a stone basement level above which an elegant entrance and fanlight sat within a columned portico.

By 1815 Sixth Avenue had been extended this far north, but it ran directly behind the house.  So the building was carefully raised on logs and turned around to face the roadway.  The ambitious project included the enlarging of the former country house.

Ten years later it was converted to a roadside inn, the Knickerbocker Cottage.  It was taken over in 1850 by Samuel Rockenburg.  He would not run the inn long.  On March 10, 1856 he died "of a lingering and painful illness" according to his obituary, at the age of 53.  "His funeral will take place from his late residence, Knickerbocker Cottage, No. 456 6th-av."  (The address would be changed in 1925 to No. 792.)

The Knickerbocker Cottage was purchased by Peter Connor.  In 1861 he was adding to his staff.  On November 28 an advertisement in The New York Herald read "Boy Wanted--To tend bar and open oysters.  One who understands his business."  And a few days later another ad sought "A young man, as assistant barkeeper."

Conner sold the business in 1863 to Felix Astoin, who leased the proprietorship to Captain William Fowler and Captain Boyle, veterans of the Civil War.  The New Amsterdam Gazette reported that the two captains "took the cottage in their hospitable hands.  They rejuvenated the ancient structure, but conscientiously spared its old front, its massive oak timbers, and its antique rafters."

After Boyle retired, William Fowler continued to lease the property and brought in his son, William, Jr., and then son Rufus to co-manage the inn.  The Knickerbocker Cottage was a favorite gathering spot for political and social groups.  On April 12, 1867, for instance, The New York Herald reported "Yesterday being the anniversary of the birthday of Henry Clay, [the Henry Clay Festival Association] held its annual reunion at Knickerbocker Cottage."

In 1868 journalist Bill Curtis and Civil War veteran Henry Buermeyer rented a room on Sixth Avenue at 14th Street and formed what today would be called a local gym.  Equipped with Indian clubs, dumbbells, and other Victorian equipment, their facility was intended to improve "feats of strength and pugilistic aptitude."  Later that summer they placed an advertisement in the New York newspapers inviting "sports-minded young men" to a meeting at the Knickerbocker Cottage to discuss forming a sports club.

The fourteen young men who showed up on September 8, 1868 founded the New York Athletic Club.  In his 1891 autobiography, John Richard Judd remembered "On this night they organized and called the club the N. Y. A. C., and I believe we each put in $10, though my $10 was handed back to me again because I was a professional."

Despite occasional affrays among the all-male patrons, the events in the Knickerbocker Cottage were generally peaceful.  In 1870 a group of Masons met regularly for lunch here at a special table on the second floor.  Two within the group were actor William J. Florence, known as Billy and Dr. Walter M. Fleming.  Based on Florence's familiarity with Arabian costumes and customs, and Fleming's knowledge of fraternal ritual, they organized the Ancient Arabic Order of the Nobles of the Mystic Shrine.

The first meeting of the Mecca Shriners--the first chapter established in the United States--was held in the Knickerbocker Cottage on September 26, 1872.  What had been a luncheon group quickly grew.  On November 24, 1873 The New York Herald reported "On Saturday evening a 'conventicle' of the Monks was called in the usual form, and they assembled accordingly at the 'Monastery of the North,' in Knickerbocker Cottage, Sixth avenue."  The group was conducting the funeral of Civil War General Ryan.

Another out-of-the-ordinary club organized here was The Manhattan Turtle Club.  Founded in 1870, its rules were entirely gastronomic and its members portly.  On December 12, 1879 The New York Times explained "It is said that the average weight of the 100 [members] is 314 pounds before meals, and that one of the rules of the club is that no man can become a voter in it until he measures at least 49 inches around the waist."

The election of officers was unique.  "The highest office is always awarded to the member who can walk steadily around the dining-room four consecutive times without assistance after eating the greatest number of plates of soup at the dinner preceding the annual election."

During the election process in 1879 Billy Birch, a minstrel entertainer, "stopped eating suddenly when half-way through his twenty-eighth plate" of turtle soup.  He was carried from the dining room choking.  The other candidates continued eating until finally Benjamin Gregory, proprietor of the Adirondack Iron Works, was elected after consuming 37 plates of soup.

Now that the officers were elected, the members turned their attention to Billy Birch.  The doctor reported he was improving "and said that there had been nothing the matter with him except that, in his inordinate ambition, he had eaten his soup in too large mouthfuls, using a ladle instead of a spoon, in which business he had taken down a large napkin with a knot tied in the middle of it, which became lodged in his throat."  The physician said that it "interfered with his appetite."

A similar club was the Five-Pounders which met here monthly.  In 1893 The Times remembered "They feasted at the old Knickerbocker Cottage in Sixth Avenue, whose host Capt. William Fowler, was one of the best livers in the land.  Before sitting at table each month every man was weighed, and he was not suffered to leave the room, no matter how late the hour, until he actually weighed five pounds more than when he entered the dining room."  By the time of the article, the club was no more.  The article ended saying "Both member and guests grew so fat that the disbanding of the Five-Pounders became a matter of necessity."

Another club in which William Fowler was personally involved was The Thirteen Club.  It was organized on January 13, 1882 with 13 members "to combat the popular superstitions attached to that number."  It held its annual dinner in room 13 in the Knickerbocker Cottage every January 13.

The New-York Tribune reported on the 1883 dinner saying "The menu was a coffin-shaped card with a border of thirteen nails, and contained thirteen courses."  By now the membership had greatly increased from the original 13 to 169--not coincidentally the product of 13 x 13.  Speeches during the dinner were limited to 13 minutes each.

Felix Astoin, described by The New York Times as "the wealthy Frenchman," died on November 8, 1883 leaving an estate of $500,000, nearly $12.5 million in today's dollars.  He left the Knickerbocker Cottage to Helen Ransom, the widow of his son, Celestin.  She quickly sold it that same year for $17,750 to William Wilson--about $440,000 today.

When Fowler died suddenly 15 years later, on July 6, 1897, The New York Times mentioned "In his time, to the cottage every New Yorker of note and many men of National prominence came, to partake of its famous dinners and suppers.  Ex-President Arthur was a frequent visitor, as were James Fisk, William Travers Samuel Ward, Lawrence Jerome, Lester Wallack, the younger, and a whole host of the wits and bon vivants of those days."

In the meantime, William Wilson sold the Cottage at auction on March 18, 1885.  Newspapers noted "The reasons for the sale of the property were not stated" and The Times added "The Knickerbocker Cottage was built piece-meal in the early part of the present century." The newspaper got its facts slightly wrong, saying "More than 150 years ago the land on which the cottage stands was owned by the Varian family, one of whom was Mayor of New-York."

The Mouquin brothers initially made only a few changes.  The store at the left was their well-advertised wine and cheese stop.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Since 1857 Henri and Louis Mouquin had operated a stylish French restaurant downtown known as Chez Mouquin.  In 1898 they leased the old Knickerbocker Cottage and rechristened it Mouquin's Cafe de Bordeaux. 

The World Almanac and Book of Facts, 1899 (copyright expired)

After closing for remodeling in 1899 they reopened in 1900 now welcoming female patronage.  An advertisement announced "Ladies' Restaurant--Mouquin has just opened the Old Knickerbocker Cottage at 454, 456 and 458 Sixth Avenue, foot of Twenty-eighth Street elevated station, as a first-class restaurant."

Well-dress patrons pause outside of Mouquin's around 1901.  image courtesy of Gene Gantt

The fashionable restaurant became the regular meeting place of a group of painters of the Ashcan School of art.  William J. Glackens had been a frequenter of Mouquin's for years and in 1904 he and his wife Edith Dimock; John Sloane, Robert Henri and their wives began meeting almost nightly.  According to Bernard B. Perlman in his 1979 Painters of the Ashcan School: The Immortal Eight, "Often they were joined by George Luks, Jimmy and May Preston, or Frederick Gruger, all of the old Philadelphia gang."  The group was enlarged with artists like Ernest Lawson and Everett Shinn.

Mouquin's became a subject of at least three paintings by artists of the famed group.

In 1904 Everett Shinn painted a wintry scene outside Mouquin's - collection of the Newark Museum of Art

And a year later William Glackens depicted the elegant interiors.  The model for the seemingly bored woman was the artist's wife.  Collection of The Art Institute of Chicago

On December 20, 1908 the New-York Tribune reported on a somewhat shocking transaction--"the sale of the site occupied by Mouquin's restaurant."  John F. Lambias purchased it for $300,000.  The newspaper noted "The property is a landmark," adding "the building on the site is the original Varian mansion, one of the oldest and most historic buildings in the neighborhood."

When this photo was taken by Brown Brothers around 1916 there was remodeling going on.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Mouquin's continued to run its fashionable French restaurant.  Things looked bleak in April 1919 when The Evening World announced that the building faced foreclosure and Mouquin's, "for two decades one of the most famous restaurants in the tenderloin, is to close its doors within a few weeks."  When interviewed, Louis Mouquin shed a tear and sighed "Life is just one damned funeral after another."

Around the time of its closing the restaurant had disguised the facade with vines.  photograph by the Detroit Publishing Co. from the collection of the Library of Congress

But the restaurant earned a reprieve and continued for another five years.   It was not foreclosure, but Prohibition that ended Mouquin's.  The New York Times reported "With the advent of prohibition the lustre of the restaurant began to fade."  Then, when agents found alcohol being sold, it was padlocked by order of U.S. Attorney Emory R. Buckner in May 1924.

Prohibition was not only the ruin of many hotels and restaurants, but of human lives as well.  Such was the case with the closing of Mouquin's.  Alexander Chaput had been a waiter there for 20 years.  He went home one evening and committed suicide by inhaling lighting gas.

Strikingly similar was the case of Armand Francois De Lysle, who had been a Mouquin's waiter for 25 years.  His wife had been in charge of the female employees.   Now they were both out of work and after nearly a year of searching the 59-year old De Lysle feared they would never again find jobs.

When his wife returned home around 7:30 on the evening of March 25, 1925 she found him unconscious from gas escaping from open burners of the kitchen range.  The Times reported "He died in spite of efforts to resuscitate him."

In October that year the Clay Trading Corporation leased the building for a "quick service" restaurant.  But it was too late for the building universally deemed a landmark and "historic."  It was razed within months.  The replacement building survived until 1999, demolished for the 37-floor apartment building The Capitol at Chelsea, which opened in 2001.

photo via wirednewyork.com

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The Hicks Building -- No. 1178 Broadway

By the time of the Civil War the once-respectable residential neighborhood around Broadway and 28^th Street had degraded.  Saloons and gambling parlors defined the area which would in later years be known as the Tenderloin.  Thomas Thornton ran a saloon at No. 1178 Broadway in the first floor of an old brick-faced house.  When the infamous Draft Riots broke out in July 1863 in response to the unfair military draft lottery Thornton’s saloon would become a target.

For three days terror reigned in New York City with carnage and destruction unlike anything seen in the country before.  Innocent people were murdered, and draft offices, newspaper buildings and the homes and neighborhoods of the black population were burned.  When the mob moved up Broadway to 28^th Street, the grocer across the street from Thorton, Richard Murphy, passed out free whiskey to appease them—a full 19 gallons in all.  But, according to Adrian Cook in his The Armies of the Streets: The New York City Draft Riots of 1863, Thomas Thornton was less lucky. 

“The mob broke in, drank al the liquor in the bar, carried off the kegs and demijohns full of alcohol, and robbed him of $200.”  Thornton’s loss in cash alone would be about $4000 today.

Efforts of reformers and politicians like Police Commissioner Theodore Roosevelt made a change in the Tenderloin in the last decade of the century.  In 1891 H. Phillips, listed as an “importer and tailor,” ran his business from No. 1178.  History and Commerce of New York, 1891 said “Mr. H. Phillips is a gentleman of German birth, and for a number of years a resident of this city.”  Meanwhile, the Gaelic Society and the Municipal Council of the Irish National League leased rooms upstairs for their headquarters.

Broadway by now boasted numerous handsome hotels and respectable businesses were moving in to the area.  On July 13, 1901 the Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide reported that change was about to come to the corner of Broadway and 28^th Street as well.  Elias J. Herrick had commissioned architects Clinton & Russell to design a five story brick and stone “lofts and stores” building costing $80,000.

Herrick’s family had been in American since before 1653 when Sir William Herrick was first mentioned at Beverly, Massachusetts.   William Herrick’s son, Joseph, settled around New Amsterdam, where he married Margaret Hicks of Long Island.

Two and a half centuries later Elias J. Herrick had garnered a fortune as one of the leading producers of flour in the United States.  Heavily involved with charities and philanthropies, he now turned his attention to real estate development.

He demolished the two brick houses at Nos. 1178 Broadway and 17 West 28^th Street for his new commercial building.  His architects were busy men at the time.  Concurrently they were working on the Graham Court Apartments, the Broad Exchange Building downtown, the American Exchange National Bank Building, the 18-story Atlantic Building and the Astor Apartment building.

For Herrick they designed a five-story Beaux Arts structure that used a mix of materials—terra cotta, brick, limestone and cast iron.   The banded limestone piers of the two-story base continued up the Broadway elevation and at the eastern end of the 28^th Street façade.  Above the second story cornice on 28^th Street the central section was faced with beige brick—a significant cost savings to Herrick.  Only in this section were the openings not framed in cast iron, with ornate spandrels, engaged columns and, at the second story, angled bays.  Festooned cartouches crowned each pier above the second floor where a delicate wave crest design finished off the cornice.  Above it all a fanciful parapet with festooned oculi, urn-topped pedestals and a shallow arcade along 28^th Street sat like a diadem.

The family tie to Margaret Hicks was never lost among the Herricks.  Elias’s son bore the name Edward Hicks Herrick.  The new building, completed in 1902, was christened The Hicks Building.  Herrick’s first tenant was perhaps his most important.  The Evening Post Record of Real Estate Sales reported in February 1902 that the Corn Exchange Bank had taken “the ground floor of the new Hicks Building, at the northeast corner of Broadway and Twenty-eighth Street.”

J. F. Reinhardt was among the earliest tenants in the upper floors.  Turn of the century wardrobes involved traveling clothes, visiting clothes, business attire, evening wear, sports outfits, and a host of other categories.  The closets of even the wealthiest were taxed with the amount of clothing.  Reinhardt offered a solution by storing and maintaining seasonal apparel.  An advertisement in June 1903 in the New-York Tribune offered “gentlemen’s clothing taken care of and stored for the season.”

In the days before electric refrigeration hotels, restaurants and homes were faced with another necessity—ice.  The American Ice Company moved into No. 1178 Broadway.  Run by Wesley M. Oler, the successful firm was targeted by Attorney General Julius M. Mayer for running an “Ice Trust” and price fixing.  On December 21, 1906 the New-York Tribune explained that through its manipulations, the firm increased the price of ice from rivers and ponds from $1.20 a ton to ten times that much.  “It is said that by the time the ice reached the poor customers of these pushcart dealers it cost them at the rate of from $10 to $14 a ton.”

On December 20 Wesley M. Oler was served in his office at 1178 Broadway with a copy of the charges.  Oler said the charges were baseless and had no statement for reporters “except to say that Mr. Mayer probably thinks his explanation of his action from his point of view is correct.”

A delicate wave pattern rolls above the exquisitely-carved festooned cartouches.

At the time that Wesley Oler was planning his defense the building was home to several travel-related agencies.  Leon H. Cilley placed an alluring advertisement in the June 1906 edition of The Four-Track News-An Illustrated Magazine of Travel and Education. Representing the Maplewood Hotel in Maplewood, New Hampshire, he marketed it as a “Social and scenic center.  High altitude.  No hay fever.  Superior 18-hold golf course.”

S. E. Churchill offered competition and in June 1906 advertised accommodations at several resorts, including the sprawling Hotel Hamilton.  That same month The Mathewson resort hotel published an advertisement in the New-York Tribune.  Like Churchill and the Maplewood, the Mathewson’s New York office was in the Hicks Building.  The ad boasted modern improvements over the past season.

Lavish turn-of-the-century resort hotels were enticing even to middle class Americans, The New York Observer June 1906 (copyright expired)

“Improvements for 1906 include a large number of new bathrooms, surf bathing, no annoyance from mosquitoes, excellent roads, good fishing.  Golf and tennis.”  The ad also noted “pure water from Mathewson spring.”

Spring waters at summer resorts was rapidly becoming a marketing tool.  Another agent in the building was taking advantage of that draw as well.  Hiram Ricker & Sons were the agents for the Poland Spring hotel and resort.  Poland Spring would remain in the building for years; by 1916 focusing more on its bottled water than the resort business.

A related firm was The Travellers’ Company.  It, too, would be here for several years, offering travel tickets, hotel and resort and restaurant recommendations for vacationers.  And Mabie & Gillies, who started out offering “private funds for private house mortgages and centrally located business property loans,” would also stay on.  By 1908 the firm, now known as Webster B. Mabie & Co. was dealing in commercial real estate.

New York’s apparel and millinery business would, for the most part, bypass No. 1178 Broadway.  One exception was the high-end men’s hat manufacturer Hawes von Gal.  With factories in Danbury, Connecticut and Niagara Falls, Canada, the firm boasted in 1912 “Best made and best known is a strong combination.”  Its popular bowler in 1913 retailed for about $75.00 in today’s dollars.

The style of illustration for Hawes ads at the time was astonishingly similar to J. C, Leyendecker -- The World's Work October 1912, (copyright expired)

In the building with Hawes at the time were the Amsterdam Advertising Agency (which included Poland Water on its list of clients); A. H. Rice Co., “manufacturers of sewing silks and braids at Pittsfield, Massachusetts;” the Arizona-based Pioneer Mining & Smelting Co.; and real estate agents M. Rosenthal Co. (which signed a lease in 1916) and M. L. Harris.

In October 1917 the estate of Elias Herrick commissioned architect I. E. Denslow to do “alterations” on the building.  Details of the $4,000 in improvements are unclear; however they most likely focused on modernizations inside.

The smattering of apparel firms in the building by 1920 included the Imperial Cloak Company and A. Kandel’s silk manufacturing operation.  On Friday November 25, 1921 Kandel ran into trouble while heading home to Brooklyn.

He and his wife were to attend a social function so Mrs. Kandel had asked him to remove certain articles of jewelry from a safe deposit vault.  He placed them in a small chamois bag which he pushed into his coat pocket.  He then boarded the elevated train to Brooklyn.  He later told police he “recalled being jostled during the trip.”

When he arrived home he found that the bag and his cash were gone. Included were a diamond ring valued at $2,800 and a pendent worth $1,820.  In all Mrs. Kandel lost about $7,500 in jewelry (nearly $97,000 today) and her husband was out $53 in cash.

No. 1178 was still being referred to as The Hicks Building in advertisements as late as 1922.  By 1930 the former bank space was occupied by the United Cigar Stores.  And things would not improve as the decades passed.

The street level was obliterated in the second half of the 20^th century and is now humiliated with garish vinyl awnings of wholesale shops.  Clinton & Russell’s handsome entrance to the upper floors on the 28th Street, however, survives; as does almost all of their design above the first floor.

photographs by the author