The Martyr's (or Soldiers') Monument - Trinity Churchyard

photo via waymarking.com

The first burial within the Trinity Churchyard on Broadway was in 1698.  By 1842 the grounds were filled and the sprawling Trinity Church Cemetery was established far uptown.  Nine years later the city proposed to extend Pine Street, which terminated at Broadway, to the Hudson River.  That would require taking a large slice from the northern hem of Trinity Churchyard.

It seems that the Trinity trustees turned to civic patriotism and sentiment to block what today would be called eminent domain.  On June 8, 1852 a meeting was held at City Hall to consider the erection of a monument to Revolutionary War prisoners of war in Trinity Churchyard, directly in the path of the proposed improvement project.  The church trustees noted, in part:

The remains of a large number of those heroic men who sacrificed their lives in achieving the independence of the United States, many of whom died while in captivity in the old Sugar House, are interred in Trinity churchyard in this city, and from the uniform attention and respect to the dead, which Trinity Church has observed, it is believed on suggestion it will cheerfully erect a suitable monument to their memory.

The "Sugar House" had been a large building owned by the Livingston family, appropriated by the British as a prison.  More than half a century after the war, New Yorkers still remembered the horrors inflicted on the prisoners.  One aged survivor, Jonathan Gillett, gave his account to the New York Herald.  The newspaper recounted:

He spoke of many dying of starvation and disease during his imprisonment.  Almost every day one, and sometimes five or six, were carried out for burial.  The bodies were placed upon the ground, and sometimes frozen there before removed.  These detachments of their living comrades were employed in carrying them to the Bowery, near the freshwater pump, for interment.

The mayor found the church's sudden interest in memorializing the soldiers more than suspicious.  He appealed to Albany, saying, according to The Evening Post, that the erection of the monument "was undertaken for the avowed object of preventing Pine street from being carried through."  The city was unsuccessful and the plans for the monument forged ahead.  

Whether the soldiers were actually buried directly in the path of the proposed Pine Street project is uncertain, since their graves were not marked.  Nevertheless, the site chosen for the monument could not have been more emblematic.  The completed structure would stand like a sentinel behind the churchyard fence, directly across from Pine Street.

Trinity Church insisted that the location sat over the graves.  The Evening Post reported on January 5, 1854, "It is said that a portion of the yard, where the most of those brave men lie, was below the present surface, some sixteen feet about, at, or on a line with, or opposite, Pine street."   The article claimed that soldiers were buried upon soldiers.  "In fact, in that part of the yard, for more than sixteen feet, the ground is composed of human remains, quite decomposed, and nearly all ground to dust."

Trinity Church paid for the monument in full.  On August 5, 1853 the Semi-Weekly Tribune reported, "The Corporation of Trinity Church have appropriated $7,000 for the construction of the work, but this sum will not more than half complete it."  Assuming that the journalist was correct, the total cost would be equivalent to $478,000 today.

The trustees commissioned English-born architect Frank Wills to design the memorial.  He had immigrated to New York City in 1847 and soon became the official architect for the New York Ecclesiology Society.  Wills was especially known for his Gothic Revival designs and had trained under architect John Hayward, a master in the style.  Willis's imposing monument would blend perfectly with Richard Upjohn's  Gothic Revival style Trinity Church.

On August 5, 1853, a few months after construction had begun, the Semi-Weekly Tribune reported, "It will be of brown stone, and its height will be 73 feet.  The pedestal will be 16 feet square, and placed at the top of a series of steps 24 feet square at the bottom."  The article said that--at least originally--Wills intended that statues of military figures would adorn the buttresses.

That detail was not the only scaled-back aspect of the monument.  In 1872 John Francis Richmond described the Martyrs' Monument in his New York and Its Institutions, giving the final dimensions.  "It is a chaste Gothic structure of brown stone, standing on a granite foundation, about forty-five feet high, appropriately inscribed, and crowned with the American eagle."

from King's Handbook of New York City, 1893 (copyright expired)

Variously called the Martyrs' Monument and the Soldiers' Monument, for years the memorial was decorated on patriotic and military holidays.  On May 6, 1861, for instance, The Evening Post reported on Decoration Day observances.  (Later named Memorial Day, the holiday would not become official until after the Civil War.)  The article said, "The revolutionary monument in Trinity churchyard has been appropriately draped with white, red and blue, and four or five flags are to be raised."

photo by Edmund Vincent Gillon from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Half a century after the monument was completed, historian A. J. Bloor weighed in on the argument as to its exact purpose.  Writing in the New-York Tribune, he told readers of a proposal to extend Pine Street through Trinity Churchyard "shortly before the outbreak of the Civil War."  He said "Frank Wills, an excellent architect of the so-called Gothic school, was commissioned to design a 'monument to the prison ship martyrs' with which to block the way.'"  Bloor gave Willis a notable compliment, saying that the monument was "one of the not too many architectural gems of this city."

photo by Wally Gobetz

Nearly 170 years after its construction, the Martyrs' Monument no longer receives attention on Memorial Day or Veterans' Day, and few New Yorkers or tourists are aware of its role in the church-vs.-City Hall battle.  

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The Lost 2nd Trinity Church - Broadway at Wall Street

Handsome brick Georgian-style homes lined the Broadway neighborhood.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

In 1697, the first Trinity Church was constructed at the head of Wall Street, with its back to Broadway.  Parishioners leaving services were greeted with sweeping views of the North River (later renamed the Hudson).  As the population of the city mushroomed, Trinity Church was enlarged in 1737.

Two men in tricorner hats stand behind the enlarged structure in 1737.  print by John Evers, from the collection of the New York Public Library 

Disaster came on September 20, 1776 when fire broke out in the Fighting Cocks Tavern near Whitehall Street.  The city had been occupied by the British for five days and colonists blamed the red coats for setting the blaze.  The British blamed the rebels.  Whatever the cause, the inferno burned all night, destroying hundreds of structures including Trinity Church.

Vestryman Thomas Barrow made a set of etchings, including this one, of the ruins.  His name survives as Barrow Street in Greenwich Village.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Rebuilding would have to wait.  Many of the parishioners were now homeless and essentially the entire congregation, including pastor Rev. Charles Inglis, evacuated the city.

In 1788, five years after the last shot in the war was fired, construction began on the second Trinity Church.  It was not completed in time for the inauguration of President George Washington in 1789, who prayed instead at St. Paul's Chapel.

The structure, now facing Broadway, was finished in 1790.  The name of its architect is unknown, but his fieldstone structure was elegant.  Larger than its predecessor, its stone steeple rose 200 feet above Broadway.  An elegant half-round portico sheltered the entrance.

Famed architect Alexander Jackson Davis, Jr. created this depiction around 1830. from the collection of the New York Public Library

The New York Herald described the interiors decades later.  "It had galleries on the two sides, and on the east end, a part of the last of which formed the organ loft, in which was placed a fine organ, built in London soon after the church was finished.  The galleries were supported by square pannelled [sic] columns; directly over each of which rose a clustered Gothic column of the roof."

From the center of the three arches above the nave hung "three large and elegant cut glass chandeliers" and four smaller versions hung below the galleries.  The Gothic-pointed windows were extremely early examples--the Gothic Revival style would not be fully embraced in America until the 1840's.  Each of them contained "very small panes."  The largest, in the sanctuary, was considered "one of the largest windows in the United States," according to The New York Herald.  The newspaper said it contained 1,039 panes.

On March 27, 1790, the Gazette of the United-States reported:

The new Church lately built in Broadway on the site of the old Trinity Church, was on Thursday last solemnly consecrated and dedicated to the service of God, by the Right Reverend Father in God, Samuel, Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church...A great number of people were assembled on this occasion.  The President of the United States, together with the Rev. Clergy of the different denominations in this city, and many other persons of distinction were present.

The Society of Iconophiles re-published this early print by William Strickland in 1908 from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The symbolic importance of Trinity Church made it a central point for gatherings.  Public announcements were posted on its fence and assemblies were held on its sidewalk.  None, perhaps, were more notable than those following France's declaration of war against Britain--America's recent enemy--on February 1, 1793.

France had been a strong ally and played a vital role in the United States' victory over the British.  Understandably, the French Government now looked to America for military support.  In 1793, a proclamation of neutrality by a doubtlessly conflicted George Washington was affixed to Trinity's fence.  It was followed by a large gathering at the spot on August 13 to support his decision.

The Gazette of the United-States reported, "Citizens of all parties, and every class were present; their unexampled unanimity it is hoped will discourage the few, the very few, turbulent men among us, and cannot fail to instruct foreigners, that however we may disagree in our local politics, we stand united and firm, in our decision to maintain our neutrality."

For whatever reason, the New York Herald occasionally took editorial swipes at Trinity Church, often making reference to the church's great wealth; at other times printing somewhat sophomoric jabs.  On January 14, 1837, for instance, it wrote "The Rev. Mr. Higby from Washington, preached in Trinity Church on Thursday evening, before a congregation consisting of the silver haired Trustees--the venerable matrons--the amiable aunts--and a choice collection of the young and fascinating among the intellectual and refined."

And on October 16 that year the newspaper complained, "Who painted the inside of Trinity Church?  He must have been a disciple of Alexander, the copper-smith, for such a botch we never saw.  We can't say our prayers quietly there till it be repainted."

The trustees would soon have more to worry about than a bad paint job, however.  On September 25, 1839, the Telegraph and Texas Register reported, "The old Trinity Church, in New York is about to be pulled down, and a new edifice erected in its stead.  It was discovered by workmen employed in repairing the roof, that the walls were out of plumb, and were in some places cracked from the cornice to the base."  The article added, "Indeed the whole structure seems to have been miserably built."

print by J. Evers from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The trustees had brought in architect Richard Upjohn to assess and correct the problems.  But the structural defects were deemed irreparable.  Part of the problem was the mortar, which the Bulletin explained did not have "its due proportion of sand [and] never formed a cement, and now crumbles at the touch.  In consequence, it has become necessary to raze the old church, to make room for a more substantial, and perhaps a more magnificent temple."

What might have seemed a straightforward project of demolition and rebuilding was not.  On August 2, 1839, the Morning Herald strongly proposed that the razing of Trinity Church would open the opportunity to extend Wall Street to the North River.  As for the burial ground that filled the churchyard, the newspaper was dismissive.

The grave yard of Trinity Church is utterly useless, in these latter days, for its original purpose.  All the saints, savans and beauties of the last and virtuous age are buried there; but of late years roguery has so much increased in the world that few deserve to be buried in Trinity Church yard.  In the meantime what improvement would more adorn the city, or benefit the public health, than the elongation of Wall street from Broadway to the North River?

The newspaper accused Trinity Church of "bribery and corruption" to fight the proposal.  "We know very well that this sainted corporation can expend $100,000 in quieting the press and the people's servants about this improvement."

The Morning Herald struck again on August 31, saying, "if we could so far overcome folly, bigotry, and hypocrisy, as to get the street cut through to the North River, (which must soon be done) and a splendid square laid out, or Cathedral built on the site of Trinity Church, it would far surpass in beauty, and utility any street in the known world."

The editors of the Morning Herald did not get their way.  There would be no "cathedral square" and Wall Street would not be cut through.  Instead, Trinity Church was demolished and construction of Richard Upjohn's replacement began over the venerable site.  The eight bells of the old steeple were distributed to churches throughout the city.

The Morning Herald sounded conciliatory on October 1, 1840 when it wrote, "The Episcopalians are rich, gay, and pious as usual.  This is the richest and most respectable sect in the country.  They are not numerous--but influential and powerful.  Their new Trinity Church is making great progress.  It is a beautiful building."

The Bulletin, in 1837, had hoped for "perhaps a more magnificent temple."  And that is what Manhattan got.  Upjohn's glorious Gothic Revival structure, which survives, is a masterpiece.

Richard Upjohn personally created this depiction of his new church.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The Churchyard Cross (Astor Cross) -- Trinity Churchyard

On September 23 1853 William Backhouse Astor, Jr. married the socially-ambitious Caroline Webster Schermerhorn (known by her closest friends as Lina) in Trinity Church.  The couple would have five children—the youngest, John Jacob “Jack” Astor IV being born in 1864.

Although Caroline spent the first years of her married life focused on her children; she gradually became increasingly involved in society.  Eventually she reigned as the undisputed empress of New York society.  Uncowed by his wife’s imperious personality (she was embarrassed by his middle name Backhouse, for instance, and insisted he use only the initial); William eventually avoided confrontation.  Initially he would while hours away at his social clubs during Caroline’s entertainments; but eventually spent most of the summer season, when the Astors were in their Newport cottage Beechwood, on his yacht the Ambassadress and the winter season in Jacksonville, Florida.

Caroline Astor dressed for a fancy ball in 1875.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

In stark contrast to her public reputation; Caroline Astor was a doting mother and grandmother.   Two years after William Astor died in 1892, she and her son, John Jacob Astor, began construction on a massive double mansion on Fifth Avenue at 65^th Street.   

As the new century dawned, the aging Caroline Astor’s health began failing, then worsened.   The Evening World mentioned in October 1908, “For more than a year she has received nobody but her physician and her daughter, Mrs. Wilson.  The only sign of life about her house since April last came from the windows of her room.”

“Mrs. Wilson” was Caroline Schermerhorn Astor, the Astors’ fourth daughter, named, obviously, after her mother.   Known as Carrie, she had married the wealthy Marshall Orme Wilson in 1884.  Following her mother’s move to Fifth Avenue and 65^th Street, the Wilsons erected a lavish limestone mansion a block away at on 64^th Street in 1903.  When word arrived on October 30, 1908 that Caroline Astor was failing, Carrie rushed from her home to her mother’s bedside.  At 7:30 that night the larger-than-life socialite died at the age of 78.  Carrie was the only member of the Astor family at her side.

Caroline Webster Schermerhorn Astor was buried in Trinity's Cemetery in upper Manhattan.  Like other Astors, she had been a communicant of the church despite the uptown migration of society.   Within four years her devoted daughter embarked on plans to further memorialize her.

In 1911 Trinity Church had commissioned architect Thomas Nash to design an addition to the church--the All Saints’ Chapel.  It was no sooner completed in 1913 than Nash was working on another Trinity project—a “churchyard cross” commissioned by Carrie Astor Wilson as a monument to her mother.

Thomas Nash's model was exhibited in April 1913.  American Stone Trade, August 5, 1913 (copyright expired)

On August 5, 1913 American Stone Trade reported “Trinity Churchyard, lower Broadway, New York City, will shortly have a unique example of modern sculpture in the form of a churchyard cross to be erected by Mrs. M. Orme Wilson in memory of her mother, Mrs. William Astor.”  The trade journal described the 36-foot tall memorial saying “The design in its general lines follows the idea of the many crosses to be found in England and on the Continent and the great shaft with its superb carving crowned by the figure of Our Lord reigning from His Cross will be most impressive as seen across the churchyard among the trees.”

When Trinity’s rector, the Rev. Dr. William T. Manning saw the completed model in April that year, he advised reporters “It is said that the cross…compares favorably with the finest works of similar art in the older land.  The design embodies the idea of the genealogy of our Lord as given by St. Luke.  In the twelve niches in the shaft are the figures of our Lord’s human ancestors.”

In fact, Nash’s design, with the exception of the crowning crucifix, somewhat surprisingly nearly ignored the New Testament.  Beginning with Adam and Eve, the figures included Seth, Enoch, Noah, Shem, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Judah, Ruth, Jess, and David.  Only the Virgin Mary represented the Bible from Christ’s time.

Figures like Adam and Eve (top) and Noah depict Old Testament stories.

While the idea of sculpting the memorial in white marble was considered; the decision was to use Indiana limestone.  The choice of the more durable stone was fortunate, resulting in the carvings remaining crisp decades later.   Thomas Nash was an architect, not a sculptor, and his model was sent to James Gillies & Sons in Long Island City for execution.  Here a team of artists worked on the monolith for about a year.

The monument dominates the 18th century tombstones around it.

The memorial cross was dedicated just before noon on May 30, 1914 with what The Sun called “impressive services.”   Rev. Manning made note of the Old Testament motif in his remarks.  “This beautiful structure as a whole will speak of the close relation between the Jewish and Christian religions.  It will remind us that we all worship the God of Abraham,” he said.

The Cross at the time of its dedication -- Stone magazine, June 1914 (copyright expired)

Manning said that the erection of the medieval-type cross in Lower Manhattan was significant.  “It is most appropriate that this striking symbol of the Christian religions should be lifted up…in the midst of the eager crowds and the great business interests in the lower part of the city.  It will give its message every hour in the day to the hundreds of people who enter the churchyard and to the throngs who pass by on the street.”

Stone magazine commented “This cross serves to emphasize the fact that this country is sadly lacking in beautiful and artistic memorials of the kind…Memorials like the Astor cross, scattered through the various churchyards of the land, would do much for the cultivation of public taste…Trinity Church is pointing the way.”

Within the year the Churchyard Cross, which was already assuming the popular name the Astor Cross, became one of the first monuments in Manhattan to be lit at night.  Popular Mechanics pointed out years later in April 1929 that “four floodlights focus their beams on the cross.”

A 1915 postcard depicted the lit memorial at night.

As Dr. Manning predicted, the Astor Cross drew downtown workers.  On November 15, 1943 Life magazine published a photograph of suit-wearing Wall Street types sitting on the base of the Cross during lunchtime.

But the memorial was not merely a convenient place to take lunch.  When the Rev. Dr. John Heuss was formally installed as the 13^th rector of Trinity on June 3, 1952, two processions converged at the Churchyard Cross before entering the church.  And when Rev. Heuss celebrated Rogation Sunday on May 6, 1956, he led a procession out of the church to the Churchyard Cross where he recited prayers and the choir sang.

The Astor Cross remains the focal point of the northern churchyard.  Thousands of tourists photograph it every year and Wall Street brokers still sit on its base at noon.  Few, however, realize its purpose—a monument to a queen of Manhattan society and an adoring mother.

photographs by the author

The John Watts Jr. Memorial - Trinity Churchyard

Born on August 27, 1749, John Watts, Jr. could not possibly have had a more enviable pedigree.   His father was the wealthy Scottish-born John Watts who had married Anne DeLancey, a daughter of one of the most powerful colonial families in New York.  John Jr.'s grandparents were from the Schuyler and Van Cortlandt families.

As John Watts, Sr. served in the colonial government—a member of the Colonial Assembly and the King’s Council—young John grew up in luxury and privilege.  The Watts country estate, Rose Hill, had been the DeLancey country home.  It covered more than 130 acres from the East River to what would become Fourth Avenue, from 21^st to about 30^th Streets. 

John Watts, Jr. was graduated from King’s College in May, 1769, giving the valedictory address at the age of 19.  Within a few years he was appointed Royal Recorder of New York.  Although a clerical post, it was nonetheless impressive.  Watts was responsible for various administrative responsibilities, like assisting the Mayor; as well as judicial functions.

As the clouds of rebellion formed, it would appear that a rift grew between Watts and his father.  An ardent Tory, John Watts, Sr. fled to England in 1779 following increasing threats from rebels and after being “attainted with treason” by the New York State Legislature. That same year the Governor appointed Commissioners of Forfeitures to “dispose of the confiscated estates” of Loyalists.  Rose Hill and the Watts lower Manhattan townhouse were seized and auctioned in 1784.

The very fact that John Watts, Jr. and his brother Robert were allowed to re-purchase the family homes strongly suggests that the men were patriots.  Not long after his parents had left the country, John Watts, Jr. reinforced the Watts-DeLancey alliance by marrying Jane DeLancey.  They would eventually have 11 children and took possession of Rose Hill.

Watts was the only former British official in New York who went on to hold American office.  In 1791 he was elected to the New York State Assembly; and two years later to the United States Congress.  But despite his great wealth and political standing, Watts suffered personal pain.  One by one he buried his wife and 10 of his children.

John Watts had been a life-long friend of John George Leake, who married Watts’s younger sister, Margaret.  When their only son, John George, died at the age of eight in 1793, Leake formulated a plan to carry on his name.  He proposed to leave Watts’s only surviving son, Robert, his vast fortune--with one caveat.  Robert would have to change his surname to Leake.  Against his father’s vocal opposition, Robert did so. 

When Leake died in his mansion at No. 32 Park Row on June 2, 1827, Robert inherited his uncle’s estate.   The strain it caused between him and his father is evidenced in Watts’s grandson’s writing later “John Watts was opposed to his son’s acceptance of the terms of the will, and Robert refrained from speaking of the matter.”  Ironically, shortly after the will was settled, “Robert Watts died of congestion of the lungs, following a severe cold contracted during a game of ball."    Biographer Frank Allaben in his 1908 John Watts De Peyster explained, "He left no will and died unmarried, his father becoming his heir."   It was the embodiment of cruel irony.

Already wealthy, John Watts had no need for the Leake fortune.  Concerned with social conditions (he was a founder of the New-York Dispensary and became its president in 1827), he used the Leake estate to found the Leake and Watts Orphan House in the City of New York on March 7, 1831.  He turned over his beloved Rose Hill to the institution.  It was among the first of the charitable organizations for child welfare in America. 

John Watts, Jr. died in 1836.  By the last decade of the 19^th century his Leake and Watts Orphan House had moved twice as the city continued to move northward, engulfing the former open countryside.  When, in 1890, plans were laid to move the orphanage out of Manhattan, to Yonkers, Watts’s grandson General John Watts DePeyster, was concerned that Watts’s memory among New Yorkers would fade into oblivion.

His solution was to commission sculptor George E. Bissell to design a “heroic size” bronze statue.  On July 22, 1892 The Sun reported that the finished sculpture had been shown at the Henry-Bonnard bronze foundry on West 16^th Street the day before.   The article noted that the foundry had worked on the statue for nine months; saying it “is nine feet high, and weighs 3,250 pounds.”  The Sun added ‘it is considered to be a good piece of work.”

DePeyster had provided Bissell with a bust of Watts, sculpted from life by Ball Hughes, to use as a model.  The completed statue would be mounted on a six-foot high granite pedestal inscribed with Watts’s name on the front.   Earlier The New York Times had described the figure saying “The statue represents Judge Watts costumed in ermine-bordered robes and wearing a wig, as he appeared in 1775.”

DePeyster agreed to have the monument erected in Trinity churchyard, where his grandfather had been buried, although, according to The Times, his “first desire was to have it placed in Central Park.”

As the unveiling neared, The Times gave a more detailed description on July 22, 1892.  “The cloak is not only heavily furred, but has big sleeves and falls in a hundred solid folds, while the curly wig descends majestically on his shoulders.  The handsome stern features carry off all this bewigging and begowning very well…The Judge’s left hand is resting against his waist, his right hand hangs down and holds a scroll, while his right foot emerges from the long folds of his gown.”

The monument just over a decade after its unveiling.  John Watts DePeyster, 1908 (copyright expired)

The article was perhaps the first to credit the statue as being Bissell’s greatest work.  “In fact, it is probable that Mr. Bissell has hit on his very best statue in this instance.”  It was an opinion that would be repeated for years.   In 1910 The New Century Book of Facts called it “The best work this sculptor did.” And on August 31 1920, following the death of George Edwin Bissell, the New York Herald wrote “What is considered by art critics as his masterpiece, a statue of Chancellor John Watts, stands in Trinity Church yard.”

The powerful statue of John Watts, now having gained the pleasant green patina of age, still stands in the churchyard among the graves of much more familiar names like Robert Fulton and Alexander Hamilton.  His charity still operates under the name Leake and Watts Services, Inc.  But despite his grandson’s valiant attempts to keep his memory alive, John Watts, Jr. is largely forgotten and his bewigged, robed figure a mere curiosity to the tourists who file by.

18th century tombstones surround the statue.  In the background the pyramidal stone grave marker of Alexander Hamilton can be seen.

 photographs by the author

The Lost St. Chrysostom's Chapel -- 7th Avenue at 39th Street

from King's Handbook of New York City, 1893 (copyright expired)

In 1865 the Rev. Henry A. Neely, assistant minister of the fashionable Trinity Chapel on West 25^th Street considered the neighborhood just to the northwest.   Described by The New York Times as “thickly-populated,” the area was filled with crime and vice.  It would earn the unflattering nickname “Hell’s Kitchen.”  Rev. Neely recognized a need to extend religious outreach into the gritty neighborhood.

He was given permission to establish a mission and in the fall of that year enlisted the assistance of Rev. Thomas H. Sill, then Rector of Grace Church in Canton, New York.  The two began “pastoral visitations” of Hell’s Kitchen and on the first Sunday in Advent on December 3, 1865, they held a service in a room above a lager beer saloon on West 32^nd Street near Seventh Avenue.

The priests moved quickly.  Within two months a Sunday School was established and services continued there for almost a year.   In the fall of 1866 a rented hall was taken on the northwest corner of Broadway and 34^th Street for church services.

The successful work of the humble mission did not go unnoticed.  In 1868 the 100-square foot plot of land at the northwest corner of Seventh Avenue and 39^th Street was purchased for a new “free chapel.”  In June that year, $66,000 was appropriated by the vestry of Trinity Church “to put the project into effect,” according to the 1950 A History of the Parish of Trinity Church in the City of New York.   

The neighborhood may have been notorious and its residents impoverished; but the vestrymen went to one of New York City’s most esteemed architects for the design.  Before long, as noted in the History, “the plans for St. Chrysostom’s Chapel and School House, as submitted by Richard M. Upjohn, were approved.”

On October 28 the cornerstone was laid by Bishop Horatio Potter and the now-Bishop Neely.  At the time only the foundation walls had been erected; nevertheless reporters were told “It will be of the Gothic style of architecture, the material being brownstone with Cleveland stone trimmings.  The windows will be of stained glass and the interior of the building will be decorated in polychrome.  It will probably cost $60,000 and will be finished next summer.”

The prediction that the building would be “finished next summer” was optimistic.  Although the first service was held in the new chapel on November 7, 1869; it would be a full decade before construction was truly complete. 

The almost perfectly square plot resulting in a boxier and heavier structure than one would expect from Upjohn.   The architect placed the front of the chapel building on 39^th Street, rather than the avenue.  The corner section, between two hefty gables, morphed into a pyramidal roof supporting a thin steeple and belfry.   Upjohn reduced the visual density of the blocky church by interrupting the brownstone with bandcourses of contrasting, lighter colored stone.

Street car tracks ran down the middle of Seventh Avenue when this shot was taken.  Crude crosswalks protected women's footwear from treacherous chinks in the brick streets.  photo by Robt. L. Bracklow from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult&VBID=24UAYWGP5CFI&SMLS=1&RW=1536&RH=770

The stained glass windows are often attributed to the English firm of Heaton, Butler and Bayne; which had installed a window in Westminster Abbey a year earlier.   For the indigent worshipers living in the lowest of housing, the Gothic interiors of St. Chrysostom’s Chapel would have been uplifting.

photo by Wurts Bros.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult&VBID=24UAYWGP5CFI&SMLS=1&RW=1536&RH=770

Rev. Thomas H. Sill became pastor of the mission--now chapel--that he had devoted his life to.  On December 26, 1874 The New York Times remarked on the Christmas Day decorations.  The newspaper noted “this chapel is frequented by many of the humbler members of the community in whose midst it is situated.” 

“The floral and evergreen decorations were elaborate and exhibited much care and good taste in their arrangement.  The windows were transformed into miniature groves of fir, and the galleries, lectern, pulpit, font, chancel rails, and gas-fittings were tastefully decorated with laurel, cedar, and palm.  Festoons of evergreens depended from the pillars, and a rood screen of laurel divided the choir and nave.  The altar was decorated with a beautiful floral cross of white japonicas, entwined with smilax."

But the journalist did not totally approve.  “While the elaborate decorations in evergreens were executed with good taste, the same cannot be said of the other adornments. For instance, the effect of the beautiful rood screen and cross—a beautiful and unique feature in church ornamentation—was completely marred by the tawdry decorations displayed over the altar and on the pillars in the body of the church.”

New York churches with wealthy congregations closed for the summer months—their members all having left the city for summer estates and resorts.  Such was not the case for St. Chrysostom’s Chapel whose indigent worshipers suffered through the hot months in near-insufferable conditions.  And so it was, instead, repairs and final decoration that forced services out of the chapel proper and into the school room next door in the summer of 1879.

“The walls of the church, which had become badly discolored, have been renewed, and the plaster ceilings have been replaced by wood-work.  The new walls are to be tastefully decorated in tints, new gas-fixtures are to be put up, and the interior of the church will present a greatly improved and more cheerful appearance,” reported The New York Times on August 3.

The repairs and improvements were completed just in time for the consecration on October 30, 1879.  The services were conducted by Bishop Potter, “in an impressive manner,” according to The New York Times, assisted by about 25 clergymen.   The work of Rev. Sill and the Chapel’s guilds, school and the “corps of lay visitors of both sexes [who] now assist the clergy in their ministrations from house to house” was noted.  Since the mission was founded there had been 1,314 baptisms, and 345 marriages.  The membership of just 375 was, perhaps, understandable given the crime- and vice-ridden neighborhood.

The funerals and weddings of the lower classes here went largely unnoticed by New York newspapers.  But that would not be the case on May 8, 1881.  Poet William Ross Wallace was widely-popular and his most famous poem “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle is the Hand That Rules The World,” which praised motherhood, touched the heartstrings of Victorian literary taste.  His funeral at St. Chrysostom’s Chapel drew reporters; and the journalist from The New York Times reported on the event in terms worthy of the poet himself.

“A few minutes before 1 o’clock P. M. yesterday, a hearse, followed by two carriages, drew up at the Gothic entrance of St. Chrysostom’s Chapel…and a coffin was lifted upon the shoulders of four stalwart men in black and borne down the aisle…A lady in deep black, leaning upon he arm of her son, and a young girl, supported by an elderly gentleman, followed the coffin to the altar, convulsed at intervals with subdued sobs.”

The description dripped with 19^th century sentiment.  “The Rev. Mr. Sill conducted the services, and at their expiration the casket was opened that friends might take a fare-well of the strongly-marked and well-remembered features.  The face was emaciated by suffering.”

In Victorian New York, church leaders often looked with derision on actors and some banned their congregations from attending the theater.  Rev. Thomas Sill, however, was an ardent supporter of the art and St. Chrysostom’s Chapel frequently was the spot for the marriages and funerals of thespians.

Weddings here, in general, drew the suspicion of the New-York Tribune in 1884, which sent an investigative reporter on the case.  On September 8 it reported “Some comment has recently been passed upon the fact that St. Chrysostom’s Chapel, in this city, is apparently much sought after by runaway couples and others desirous of entering the matrimonial state as expeditiously as possible. Two cases in particular happening within a few days of each other seem to have intensified the feeling to such an extent that a Tribune reporter a day or two ago made some inquiries at the chapel.”

The reporter was concerned, specifically, about “an actress, who married a man who already had a wife, and a Brooklyn organist who eloped with a young member of his choir.”

The assistant rector was undaunted by the suggestive questioning.  “I regret both these cases extremely, but were I to be placed again in the same circumstances, I should act in precisely the same manner.”  He told the reporter that he had been assured that the wife of the first man was dead.  And, he stressed, if he were to deny the rites of matrimony to these couples, they would go to a Justice of the Peace, “to be united without the blessing of the Church, or to something worse.”  (“Something worse,” of course, alluded to living in sin.)

On November 29, 1885 Rev. Thomas H. Sill celebrated the 20^th anniversary of the chapel’s founding.  Sill recounted to the crowded church the work being done by its 13 guilds—groups which worked within the community.  The Times commented at the time, “A considerable proportion of the congregation is colored.”

Yet another guild was added in 1894—the Guild of St. Agnes.  On March 29 that year The Evening World described the “admirable organization.”  It was organized “for women and girls who cannot or should not go out at night.  It meets every Friday at 3 o’clock.  The members are entertained in various ways and taught sewing, housewifely ways, good humor and good manners.”

The cost of running St. Chrysostom’s Chapel and its related school and organizations could not be, obviously, supported by its needy congregation.  Trinity Church provided the funds and a sermon in May 1897 Rev. Sill gave his appreciation.

“Notwithstanding the tendency of parishes to follow fashion and wealthy uptown, Trinity has remained to minister to the wants and needs of the population that also must remain…For thirty years St. Chrysostom’s has ministered to this section of the city, crowded as it is with tenements and poorer dwellings.  For my own part, I am profoundly grateful that for nearly thirty years I have been permitted to have my part in the work here that has ever kept me busy.”

That work included a long list of organizations and groups.  Among these were St. Chrysostom’s Chapel Dispensary with an attending physician who visited the sick poor at their homes; the Guild for Intercessory Prayer (a Trinity Church pamphlet said “Its name implies its object”); the St. Chrysostom District Visiting Society; The Guild of St. Margaret which assisted he sick and assisted in their burials; and The Guild of St. Cyprian, “a mutual benefit society for colored men and women, providing for its sick and burying its dead;” and others.

In 1899 the Actors’ Church Alliance began meeting here.  The group was founded in 1892 by Walter Bentley, a priest who had been a Shakespearean actor.  The announcement that services would be held in St. Chrysostom’s Chapel on the evening of October 15, 1899 noted “All members of the dramatic profession are invited.”

Around his time St. Chrysostom’s received a new member.  Unlike the majority of the congregants, the unmarried Charlotte Fitch was, as described by the New-York Tribune, “wealthy and of good family.”  The middle-aged spinster had lived in the family mansion in Coxsackle, New York until 1899 where “her eccentricity kept her alone.  He servants would not stay,” according to the Tribune.

She moved to New York City and began attending St Chrysostom’s Chapel.  A bizarre obsession with Canon John Harris Knowles quickly followed.   She began with writing letters to Knowles, asking him obscure points of theology.  He later said “then they became more personal, until finally she was actually proposing to me.”

He said “She would sit in the congregation and glare at me until I could hardly preach.  She has followed me in the street.  I have actually been afraid at times.”  Knowles was not the only person afraid of Charlotte Fitch.  “All the sextons knew her, and were usually afraid of her.”

After nearly five years of this behavior, Charlotte was convinced that Canon Knowles proposed marriage to her in a veiled sermon.  She tried to force her way into the vestry rooms, and then on January 17, 1904 the New-York Tribune reported that she “pursued him everywhere, has tried to force her way into his apartments, and lately brought a Broadway policeman there, hoping to force an entrance.”

Canon Knowles tried to endure the woman’s delusions privately, not wanting publicity for her family. But it was the family who finally took action, after they were alerted to Charlotte’s mental condition when she accused both Knowles and her brother-in-law of trying to poison her.

Charlotte’s sister, the wife of the Rev. Edwin S. De. Groat Tompkins, filed a formal complaint and led police to St. Chrysostom’s Chapel on January 16, 1904.  “Miss Fitch struggled and screamed when the policeman took her to the courtroom,” reported the Tribune.

Canon Knowles told reporters that her family had “hoped to have her taken to some private sanatorium without any fuss, but she slipped away and came to the church this morning.  Then she tried to see me, and her sister had to send for a policeman.”

Charlotte Fitch was committed to Bellevue Hospital for “an examination as to her sanity.”  Peace was restored to St. Chrysostom’s Chapel.

Even more press-worthy than the funeral of William Ross Wallace was that of nine-year old Princess Isabella, daughter of King Andrew of the Miskito Indians of Nicaragua on February 17, 1906.  She had been sent from South American two years earlier to attend the school on Amsterdam Avenue at 129^th Street. “Four children were selected from among the Miskito tribe to be educated in this country and return to teach their fellows,” explained The New York Times.

Little Isabella died in St. Mary’s Hospital from an attack of appendicitis.  Strangely, following the St. Chrysostom’s Chapel funeral, her body was not returned to Nicaragua, but buried in Brooklyn’s Mount Olivet Cemetery.

It was not only Father Thomas Sill who actively supported the Actors’ Church Alliance.  Somewhat surprisingly, so did Bishop Potter.  When an entertainment was held by the group in the chapel’s parish hall on April 25, 1907 (attended by “more than a hundred persons,” according to The Times), the bishop showed up personally.  “Bishop Potter, who has been working in co-operation with the organization to make the fair a success, presented the alliance with an oil painting of himself.  This will be raffled off at the fair to be held at the Metropolitan Operation, beginning May 6,” said the newspaper.

Having served St. Chrysostom’s Chapel for 45 years, Rev. Thomas Henry Sill died in St. Luke’s Hospital on April 6, 1910 at the age of 72.  The New York Times remarked “No clergyman in this city has been so long connected with the same church as Mr. Sill was.”

Grateful congregants contributed what they could to erect a monument to the beloved vicar.  Two years later, on November 10, 1912, a new altar, reredos and credence were dedicated in Sills’ memory.  But the memorial would not last long.

The altar in memory of Rev. Sills was photographed by Wurts Bros. shortly after dedication in 1912.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult&VBID=24UAYWGP5CFI&SMLS=1&RW=1536&RH=770

While Hell’s Kitchen district to the west continued to be a gritty and sordid neighborhood; the Seventh Avenue area surrounding St. Chrysostom’s Chapel was becoming engulfed by the expanding Garment District.   In 1924 demolition began on the Renwick-designed church.

The New York Times explained “St. Chrysostom’s Chapel…was abandoned by Trinity Parish because of increasing commercial invasions of the neighborhood.  The officials of Trinity Parish entered into an agreement with Mr. Sparks [of St. Clement’s Episcopal Church on West 46^th Street] to provide a church home for the members of St. Chrysostom’s."  In return, Trinity paid for much-needed structural repairs of St. Clement’s.

On April 30, 1924 workmen broke open the old cornerstone and pulled out the lead box placed there by Bishop Potter in 1868.  Inside were “a Bible, a prayer book, a convention journal of the diocese, canons of the church and copies of The New York Times and The New York World, dated Oct. 28, 1868.”  The box was taken to the Trinity Parish house at No. 187 Fulton Street and placed in a vault.