From Saloon Stabbings to Modern Art -- 132 Tenth Avenue

 

The ghost of the replacement auto glass signage from the 1980's can still be seen between the second and third floors.

In the early 19th century, the neighborhood around Tenth Avenue and West 18th Street was gritty at best.  The New York Police Department described the area near the riverfront at night as "the resort of outcasts, drunkards, dissolute people, and a dangerous class of depredators and petty highwaymen."  With that in mind, Ellen Sheehan, the widow of John Sheehan, must have been a tough, self-reliant woman.  Starting around 1851, she ran a rooming house at 132 Tenth Avenue, a three-story, brick-faced house-and-store.  Its vernacular style exhibited Italianate elements, like the full-height third floor windows, as well as Greek Revival details, as in the understated wooden cornice.

Because Ellen's roomers were transitory, many of them likely sailors, they rarely appeared in city directories.  Those that did were working class.  Living here in 1851 was carpenter William Roberts; in 1858 Patrick Hart, a house painter was here; and in 1861 roomer Henry McLaughlin listed his profession simply as "laborer."

At ground level was a grocery store run by Patrick Hart until around 1865, and by Adam Meinhard afterward.  Then, in 1869, the personality of the space changed drastically when Francis J. McKeogh converted it to a saloon.

Police now had one more rowdy "resort" to deal with.  On May 4 that year, the New York Herald reported, "During a fight which took place last evening in Francis Koegh's liquor store, No. 132 Tenth avenue, Edward Dempsey, of No. 449 West Nineteenth street, was stabbed with a knife in the hand and cheek by a man named John Mann.  Dempsey's wounds are not considered dangerous.  Mann was arrested."

The incident resulted in a complaint against McKeogh and a hearing was held at the Metropolitan Board of Excise on May 10 to decide whether his excise (or liquor) license would be revoked.  The panel judged in his favor--a happy result for McKeogh and a less satisfactory one for the concerned neighbor.

It is impossible to know exactly how many people crowded into the upper floors at any given time.  In 1870 Jacob Martz, a cabinetmaker, was the only resident listed at the address.  There were far more living here, however.  That year small pox broke out in New York City and spread rapidly.  On April 1, 1871, the First Annual Report of the Board of Health reported six cases of small pox at 132 Tenth Avenue.

By 1876 another widow, Catherine A. Hofaner, ran the upper portion of the house.  The former saloon was now the butcher shop of Henry Hobbs.  As might be expected, many of Catherine's roomers were shady.  One was Francis Bethel, alias Francis Rooney, a butcher who possibly worked downstairs.  Bethel had another source of income as well--forgery.  On August 10, 1877 he pleaded guilty to forging a $25 check "purported to be signed by James Goodheart," reported the New York Herald.  "The prisoner was sentenced to four years' imprisonment."

A third widow, Jane Peel, ran the rooming house in 1879.  With McKeogh's saloon gone, her roomers had to go elsewhere to imbibe.  On the night of August 2, 1880, Michael Blassins and John Williams went to the saloon in the nearby boarding house at 284 Tenth Avenue.  Three days earlier, Adolph Wangler had arrived in New York from Germany and taken a room there.   That night he, too, was in the saloon.  Blassins spoke to him, but Wangler, not speaking English, did not respond.  The perceived slight did not sit well with Bassins, who "jumped up and struck him in the face," according to the New York Evening Express.  As if that were not enough, "then Williams picked up a chair and struck him over the head and in the face, which broke the bridge of his nose."  The proprietor called Officer Covert from the street, "who arrested the ruffians."

The unmarried Eliza Rottelersberger found herself pregnant in the spring of 1882.  On March 18, Elizabeth Klink performed an abortion on the girl in her room here.  She died on April 23.  Klink was charged with malpractice.  In court on September 27, her attorney alleged, "Eliza Rottelersberger "suffered from a painful abscess and died from the effects of lead poisoning."

When John J. Duffy purchased the building for $3,775 on February 10, 1898, it was described as a "three-story brick tenement."  The price would translate to about $127,000 in 2022.  Irish-born Mary Moran was likely already living here at the time.  She suffered a horrific accident the following year.  On September 11, 1899, the 31-year-old was crossing Eighth Avenue when she was struck by a trolley.  The New York Times wrote, "her right ear was so badly torn that it will have to be removed."

Duffy's purchase of the building sparked a rapid turnover in owners.  It was sold three times before 1903, and the store changed hands that many times, as well.

The Ryder family rented rooms here in 1903.  Their son, 10-year-old Frank, and a group of boys stripped down to go swimming at the end of a gas company's pier at 17th Street on the Hudson River.  The Sun reported, "the men on the sand schooner Racer, which lay alongside, warned them off."  It was good advice, for, as the newspaper explained, "West Seventeenth street touches a point on the shore line which, with Stevens Point in Hoboken, opposite, forms the narrowest spot in the North [i.e., Hudson] River.  It gets the full sweep of the tide as it swings around from the Weekawken flats."

Ryder, however, was hard-headed.  "He started from the head of the slip and swam toward the schooner to show the men that he wasn't afraid of the tide," said the article.  "Swimming back wasn't such easy work, and after a few minutes' hard struggle with the current, he shouted for help."  Michael Gleason, the gas company's engineer, threw off his jacket and shoes and plunged off the pier.  He, too, was immediately in trouble.

Two more men, David Reilly, the mate from the schooner,  and dock laborer Daniel Moriarty, jumped into the swirling waters.  Reilly reached the boy "just as he had about given up.  Young Ryder was wild with fright and grabbed his rescuer around the neck in a grip that made him helpless," said The Sun.  A watchman on the pier had jumped into a rowboat and reached the two "just as both were about done for." 

In the meantime, Moriarty who "could scarcely swim a stroke," was also in trouble.  Dockworkers threw him a rope and hauled him in.  But Michael Gleason had been swept away.  The Sun reported, "By the time [the rowboat] got them aboard, Gleason had gone under fifty feet away.  The engineer did not come to the surface again."  

Frank Ryder and David Reilly were taken unconscious to New York Hospital where they later recovered.  But the boy's impetuous bravado had cost one man his life and endangered two others.  Michael Gleason left a wife and two children.

By 1917 the ground floor had been converted to Charles Glassman's blacksmith and wheelwright shop.  A large carriage bay was installed and the interior gutted.  Three years later, with horses giving way to automobiles, he adapted the business.  It was now the Glassman-Bartha Welding Corporation.

On July 27, 1939 The New York Sun reported that J. & S. Bear Safety Service, Inc. had leased the building for five years, "for an automobile service station."  (It would more accurately be  called an auto repair shop, today.)

Garage doors served the automobile repair shop in 1941.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

A renovation completed in 1956 resulted in a tire shop on the ground floor, an office on the second and storage above.  The building was still used as an automobile shop in the 1980's, home to Mr. Glass, Inc. which installed replacement auto glass.  

And then, the discovery of this section of Chelsea by artists sparked its refashioning.  Former meat packing plants became trendy boutiques, shops and galleries.  On September 5, 1997, Carol Vogel, writing in The New York Times, said, "The migration from SoHo to Chelsea continues faster than ever, with some blue-chip uptown galleries now joining the crowd."  Among the established SoHo galleries to defect was Alexander & Bonin, which left 59 Wooster Street to move into 132 Tenth Avenue.

The space, where once drunken sailors and dockworkers got into knife fights, now displayed modern art, like the 1997 exhibition of works by Willie Cole, and the October 2003 showing of paintings by Stefan Kurtin.  The gallery remains in the space, revealing no hint of the little structure's colorful past.

photograph by the author

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Bitters, Undertaking, Artwork and Beer -- 225 Tenth Avenue

 

In 1859 Henry Ferris opened his Excelsior Brewery at 223 and 225 Tenth Avenue, just north of 23rd Street.  It was conveniently near his home on West 24th Street.  He would produce "ale, porter &c." from the location until 1869 when he moved slightly north on the avenue.

Half of the former brewery site, No. 225, was sold to John Jackson who erected a four-story flat and store building.  The Italianate style structure was faced in red brick with cast iron lintels and bracketed cornice.

Jackson and his wife, Rachel, moved into one of the apartments.  Their initial tenants were two single women.  Margaret Henry was the widow of Laurence Henry, and Louisa Seaman was the widow of Percival C. Seaman.  Louisa taught at Grammar School No. 56 on West 18th Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues.

On April 19, 1873 John Jackson died "suddenly" at the age of 60.  His funeral was held in the apartment three days later.  Rachel remained, managing the building.

Her small list of tenants held respectable jobs.  In 1876 the Lyons family rented rooms.  Joseph E. was a stenographer on Wall Street and Dennis was a clerk--a catch-all term for officer worker that covered a variety of jobs.  Francis White was also listed as a clerk, and William Delly was a watchman, essentially the private security guard of today.

Rachel Jackson retained possession of the building until September 27, 1887 when she sold it to Gustav Von Glahn for $14,000--the equivalent of $388,000 today.  She remained in her apartment, however, possibly rent-free as part of the deal.

Born in Germany, Gustav and his brother, John, had arrived in America around 1873.  They founded Von Glahn Bros, wholesale grocers on Washington Street and a bitters factory at No. 96 Water Street.  Gustav's sons, Diedrich H. and Henry W. opened their "consumer" business in the 10th Avenue store.  No doubt among the commodities available here was Caroni Bitters.

In 1893 A Souvenir of New York's Liquor Interests said, "It is a matter of common information in the trade that there is not a finer quality of bitters in use in America for making mixed drinks and other purposes than those known as the Caroni Bitters, for which the sold proprietors in this country are Messrs. Von Glahn Bros.

Gustav Von Glahn's fatherly love did not surpass his no-nonsense Teutonic business sense.  His sons rented No. 225 Tenth Avenue from him, signing official leases.  When they renewed the lease in February 1897 for five years, it granted them "privilege 7 years renewal."  The brothers agreed to rent equal to about $20,000 per year in today's money.

In 1898 Rachel Jackson was still living in her apartment of nearly 30 years.  Another widow, Eliza Donnell, lived here at the time and by 1900 Patrick J. Casey, who was treasurer of the nearby Guardian Angels Church was renting rooms.

The building as it appeared around 1941.  via NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Von Glahn brothers' store was gone by 1905, replaced by John McCormick's undertaking business.  It was involved in a peculiar mystery that winter.

On December 20, 1905 an impoverished man, James Hayes, was admitted to the City Hospital on Blackell's Island suffering from tuberculosis.  He died early in February 1906 and his son, 19-year old Edward Hayes, identified his father and authorized an autopsy.  The Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported, "Then Edward is alleged to have visited John McCormick, an undertaker at 225 Tenth avenue, and ordered him to get the body and prepare it for interment."

McCormick retrieved the body, prepared it and dressed it in a new suit for his funeral.  The newspaper said he "placed it in a coffin and called the relatives to view it."  The New York Times reported on February 11, "Young Hayes, accompanied by his grandfather, the moment they saw the body, declared that it was not that of their relative."

McCormick seems to have done too good a job.  The Brooklyn Daily Eagle explained, "The undertaker had made a great improvement of the appearance of the body with the aid of shaving tools and soap and water."  The article went on, "The astounded undertaker insisted that they were wrong, but the youth and the old man were positive that the dead man was not James Hayes."

There was nothing else for McCormick to do but notify the morgue.  The hospital officials confirmed that there had been only one body, so no mistake could have been made.  Nevertheless, "The body, all ready for interment, was taken back to the morgue late last night," reported The Brooklyn Daily Eagle.

Among the tenants in the building at the time was the Casey family and John McKierman, a driver.  In 1909 McKierman changed careers when he got a civil service job as a river pilot for the city.  

A baby boy, John J., was born in the Casey apartment around 1900.  He went on to graduate from Cathedral College in 1921, completed his religious training in Rome, and was ordained a priest on March 12, 1927.  In 1932 he was appointed the private secretary to Cardinal Patrick Joseph Hayes.

The mid-century the commercial space was home to the German bakery, Wuest Bakeries, Inc.

The neighborhood changed as the century drew to a close.  By 1996 the Sarah Morthland Gallery was here and today a tavern, The Drunken Horse, operates from the space once home to John McCormick's undertaking business.

photograph by the author

Otherwise, little has outwardly changed to John Jackson's 1869 building.