The 1868 Marion Meredith House - 351 West 4th Street

 

Matthew Kane was a highly successful sash (or window frame) maker in the mid-1860's.  He invested in real estate in 1868, completing a row of four upscale homes on West Fourth Street between West 13th Street and Eighth Avenue.  Designed by the prolific team of brothers David and John Jardine, the homes along West 4th Street were three bays wide and faced in warm orange brick and trimmed in brownstone.  Jardine & Jardine had designed them in the newly popular Second Empire style, transforming this block of Greenwich Village into a little slice of Paris.

The corner house stood apart from the others in that it held a store space on the West 13th Street Side.  Although it had the same proportions as the others, its wall of windows on West 13th Street allowed the architects to place just two openings on West 4th Street, creating more usable wall space inside.  The residential entrance took the address of No. 351 West 4th Street, while the store was numbered 308 West 13th Street.  Matthew Kane retained possession of the row, leasing all except No. 345 on the opposite end, which became his family's residence.

He leased the corner house to ]Marion Meredith, a printer, who also moved his business into the shop space.  The Meredith family took in boarders, their first being policeman Benjamin Christopher and Jeremiah Yereance, a carpenter.

The Merediths never took in more than two boarders, and like Jeremiah Yereance, they often came from the building trade.  It is possible that they were referred by Marion Meredith's landlord, Matthew Kane.  In 1878 and '79, for instance, carpenter Philip F. Beam and sashmaker Jacob R. Riley, lived with the family.

By the early 1880's the Graham family was leasing the house.  James and Adelia Ann Graham had been living nearby at No. 174 West 13th Street.  James made his living as a clerk in the city's Bureau of Inspection of Buildings.  Adelia Ann died at the age of 50 on July 31, 1881.  Her funeral was held in the house three days later. 

James remained and in January 1885 was earning $1,200 per year in his city job--about $33,000 in today's money.  Another civil servant, M. Cassidy, lived in the house in 1895.  He was an "inspector of weights and measures."

In the meantime the former printing shop of Marion Meredith had become Hugh McCreedy's grocery store.  On the afternoon of August 26, 1897 John Martin, walked into the store.   The 44-year-old homeless man looked around, then when McCreedy's back was turned, darted out with six brooms.  He was arrested a short distance away, "making no effort to escape," according to The New York Press.

Hugh McCreedy stood in the courtroom as Martin appeared before Magistrate Simms on the charge of stealing.  His explanation touched the storekeeper's sense of compassion.

"Your Honor," he said, "I was hungry, and that's why I stole.  I wanted a night's lodging, a bite to eat and rest."

The New York Press reported, "McCreedy refused to press the charge and Martin was discharged."

Matthew Kane died around 1898 and on May 4, 1899 his heirs sold the row of houses to Pincus Lowenfeld and William Prager.  It appears that all of the homes were operated as boarding houses.  The residents of No. 351 West 4th Street continued to be respectable and hard working.

Matilda W. White purchased No. 351 from Lowenfeld and Prager around the time of World War I.  She owned numerous properties in the neighborhood.  Among her tenants in 1922 was the Rice family, who suffered a horrifying tragedy on January 28.

Evelyn Rice was six years old and her mother took her to the nearby motion picture theater that afternoon.  The Evening Telegram reported that just after the movie ended 20-year-old delivery driver John Hayes lost control of his truck, which "swerved to one side and leaped the curb at Fourteenth street and Eighth avenue and ploughed through a crowd leaving a motion picture theater."

Hayes told police that as he neared the intersection "a man and woman stepped into his path.  To avoid an accident he swerved toward the sidewalk."  It ended horrifically.  "The Rice girl was shoved into the path of the runaway truck and killed," said The Evening Telegram.  Four others were injured.

The large store windows were boarded over on March 12, 1933, quite possibly a result of the Great Depression.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

At mid-century there were four three-room apartments per floor in the house.  Among the residents was Morris Kessler, a retired hardware merchant.  He contracted pleurisy and was taken to St. Vincent's Hospital on May 17, 1954.  In a shocking turn of events, four days later the 64-year old "climbed through the window and dropped to the Eleventh Street sidewalk," as reported by The New York Times.  The plunge was fatal.

The store space held a restaurant in the 1950's and early '60's.  A renovation completed in 2004 resulted in two apartments, one a triplex, on the upper floors.  The storefront was removed and bricked over.  That space became home to the Thomas Heinz Salon in 2004, described by The New York Times as a "tiny, superprivate" hair salon.

photographs by the author

The 1834 Wm. Cooke House -- 41 West 4th Street

Evidence of the raising of the top story to a full floor shows in the mismatched brick and the change in bond.

In 1834, as commission merchant William Cooke erected his Greek Revival-style home at 141 West 4^th Street, lavish mansions began ringing nearby Washington Square Park.  While the Cooke home would be less grand, it nevertheless reflected its owner’s financial and social status. 

The orange brick was laid in Flemish bond, a costly carry-over from the high-end Federal-style homes of a few years earlier.  Instead of brownstone trim, Cooke opted for marble.  The stoop, with its interesting wing walls, sheltered the entrance to the English basement, the areaway of which was protected by especially handsome iron railings.  Cooke’s house was two full stories tall, topped by an attic level with shorter windows, as  was typical of the architectural style.   

The handsome ironwork featured sideways palmettes within the bottom panels.

William Cooke married Caroline Pratt, daughter of Anson Pratt and Sally Beebe Pratt.  In 1840, six years after moving into the West 4^th Street home, they had daughter, Lucy.

In 1859 Dr. Shelling, the pastor of the Washington Square Methodist Episcopal Church, purchased the two butting lots towards the park.  Three years later, the congregation's elegant white marble church edifice was completed. 

The Cooke family lived on in their brick home, drawing little undue attention over the decades.  That would briefly change--tragically so--in 1887.  Not far away, on Seventh Avenue was the Central Methodist Church, which was similar in appearance to the Washington Square M. E. Church.  Next door to the Central Methodist Church lived 75-year-old Henry Lockwood.

Lockwood came from an old and respected New York family.  His grandfather was a Colonel in the Revolutionary army.  The New York Times mentioned, “At the home of his brother, with whom he had lived, at 25 Seventh-avenue, there is an autograph letter from George Washington to his grandfather.”

Henry Lockwood began his career as a compositor and in 1853 traveled to Boston to learn the new process of electrotyping.  He returned to New York after six months and set up an electrotyping office in the American Bible Society building.  Here he produced the first electrotyped copies of the Bible.

On Friday evening, December 30, 1887, the elderly man left his home to visit a friend on East 4^th Street near the Bowery.  Coming home in the dark, he apparently became disoriented and mistook the Washington Square Church for the Central Methodist Church, and subsequently the Cooke house for his own.  At around 9:00, Cooke’s next door neighbor, Mrs. Julia Hart, discovered his body “on the marble door steps at 141 West Fourth Street,” as reported by the American Printer and Lithographer.  The New York Times opined, “He had evidently succumbed to heart failure, consequent upon old age.”

On Thursday, January 22, 1891, the 83-year-old Caroline Pratt, now a widow, died in the house.  She had lived here just short of six decades.  Her funeral was held in the parlor the following Monday morning.

In the meantime, on December 27, 1865 the Wetmore Home for Fallen and Friendless Girls was opened on Houston Street.   The Home described its purpose as, “To provide a home for friendless girls who have fallen, or who are in circumstances that may lead to their fall, from want of employment, from destitution, or from evil associations.”  Three years after Caroline Pratt’s death, her house was acquired by the Wetmore Home.  On April 29, 1894, The Sun wrote, “It is called the Annex, and is a refuge for those girls who become mothers.  Girls in trouble often appeal to the Home for help.”

“Girls in trouble,” in 1894 meant pregnant, unwed girls and the stigma they carried was severe.  Here, however, “The mother is made to believe that there is still a chance for her to become a good woman, and that it is her duty to bring her child up to be upright.”  The Annex taught the girls a trade so when a place was found for her to live, she could support herself and her baby.

“The Annex is a cosey little house which has been put in thorough repair and furnished by generous donations,” said the newspaper.  “It has a large sunny nursery for the babies, with dormitory accommodations for ten women.  An experienced nurse is in charge and great pains are taken to teach these ignorant young mothers how to care properly for their children as well as to love them.”

The Annex took care of, on the average, eight mothers at a time.  By the time the article was written, “thirty have been sent to places in the country, most of whom have done well and are supporting themselves and their children.”

The Wetmore Home for Fallen and Friendless Girls continued to help unwed mothers here until 1902 when it sold the house for $13,500 to the Washington Square Methodist Episcopal Church for use as its parsonage.  It was most likely at this time that the attic was raised to a full floor, with a modillioned pressed metal cornice and an up-to-date doorway replaced the originals. 

A Colonial Revival doorway was introduced at the turn of the century, including a delicate leaded transom.

The church used the house as its parsonage for nearly a quarter of a century before leasing it in March 1926.  The renter promised to use it “for residence occupancy.”  If he, indeed, used it as a single family home, that situation would change within the decade.

In 1938, 40-year-old Joshua Nilo was renting here.  An unemployed barber from Pennsylvania, he was hiding from authorities.  Earlier, Republican leader Joseph Bruno had been imprisoned on murder charges “following the 1935 political parade ‘massacre’ of opponents of his organization,” described The New York Times. 

Nilo helped in the convict’s escape from Pottsville Prison, then fled to New York City where he hid out.  His luck ran out on August 26, 1938 when police arrested him “as a fugitive from justice.”

The Washington Square Methodist Episcopal Church leased the house in September 1939 “to a tenant for altering and occupancy as a rooming house.”  Boarders in the once-refined home continued to be blue-collar workers, like 32-year-old Anthony Denardo, who lived here in 1945 and worked on the 40-foot water taxi, the Elkay.

The New York Times explained that the Elkay was “one of a number of small boats used to bring the crews of merchant ships and workmen ashore from anchorages in the bay.”  At 2:00 on the afternoon of July 3, 1945 there was an explosion in the engine compartment of the boat.  “Captain Ballette, who was forward at the wheel when the blast spread gasoline flames through other parts of the boat, was the only one of the fifteen persons aboard who escaped injury,” reported The Times.

The newspaper said, “Most of the casualties were burned fighting the fire that followed the explosion, but some of them suffered shock and submersion also, when they jumped overboard to escape the fire.”  Seven of the passengers jumped overboard and were rescued by a Coast Guard patrol and two smaller nearby boats.  The most seriously injured was Anthony Denardo who “was said to have suffered serious burns.”

In 1947, the Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity, Inc. purchased 141 West 4^th Street from the church.  After renovations, the group announced, “On November 1, New York Gamma occupied its house at 141 West 4^th Street.  Arrangements had been made for the ‘quartering’ of the ‘advance party’ of eight men who moved in on that very first day.  We’ve collected and purchased a good deal of furniture and are halfway through redecoration.”

The house became a destination for out-of-town alumni.  The May 1950 issue of the Sigma Phi Epsilon Journal noted, “The wonderful Sig Ep get-togethers that you remember are back again…interest-packed meetings, fun-filled socials, top guest speakers are waiting for you at New York Gamma House, 141 West 4^th Street.”

Since 2006, the Malozzemoss House has operated from the old structure.  Run by AHRC, it provides treatment to persons with intellectual and developmental disabilities, and help for their families.  Only a subtle plaque on the façade hints that it is not a single family house.

Well maintained, there is little change to the Cooke house since its turn of the century facelift.  With its colorful and varied history as the home of a well-to-do merchant family, a refuge for unwed mothers, a parsonage, and a frat house; it survives as a remarkable survivor of the earliest days of Washington Square development.

photographs taken by the author

The Over-the-Top No. 228 West 4th Street

The entrance stretches nearly two stories tall.

As the turn of the last century approached, Greenwich Village was no longer the sleepy hamlet it had been 75 years earlier.  The bustling riverfront and the many small industries of the Village’s western sections attracted working class families into the area.  In the last decades of the 19^th century many of the small brick homes were demolished to make way for tenement houses.

As West 4^th Street changed, Ephraim Howe remained in his handsome home at No. 228 West 4^th Street.  Howe was a direct descendant of John Howe who arrived in America on the Mayflower.  He had made a substantial fortune in the distillery business and was a prominent member of the Produce Exchange.  Resisting the changes in his neighborhood, he lived on in his refined home until April 8, 1896 when he died there at the age of 85.  Ephraim Howe’s considerable estate was reflected in his gift of $40,000 to Tufts College for the erection of a new building.  That single bequest would amount to about $1.14 million today.

Ephraim Howe died at No 228 W. 4th Street in 1886 -- New-York Tribune, April 18, 1896 (copyright expired)

On September 16, 1899 The Sun reported that the estate of Ephriam Howe had sold “the old building” at No. 228 West 4^th Street “to a builder.”  That builder was the Herter family, which not only operated the Herter Realty Company; but the architectural firm of P. Herter & Son as well.  Peter J. Herter designed a five-story brick and stone tenement to replace Howe’s venerable home.  In doing so, Herter produced his own take on the Romanesque Revival style.

Classical panels, intricate capitals, contrasting brick, and grinning keystones were some of the dizzying array of decorative elements fighting for attention.

The completed building sat high above a commercial basement.  Herter created a cacophonous façade that is nearly a style book of 1890s taste.  The shockingly steep stoop rose to a dramatic story-and-a-half tall entrance.  As if desperate to use every available decorative element, Herter inserted two classical bas relief panels on either side of the entrance, used alternating colors of brick over the openings, ran terra cotta bands across the face of the building, laid brick in a checkerboard pattern in upper spandrels, added a heavy wreath medallion between the Palladio-inspired second story openings and propped tiny balconies on carved, spread-winged eagles.

The carved birds which once supported miniature balconies now uphold a fire escape.

But most remarkable were the fanciful mascarons that Herter lavished on the façade.  The bearded faces appeared as laughing or grimacing keystones, as heavy supports to the triangular piers that extended upward along the sides, and as cartwheeling ornaments over the doorway.  P. J. Herter’s quirky design style may not have earned him any awards; but it was doubtlessly a successful marketing scheme.  The over-the-top, somewhat flashy ornamentation was just the thing to attract the blue collar type residents whom the builders targeted.

The building was completed late in 1900 and in January 1901 Peter J. Herter leased it to Anna Fahrenholz for two years at $4,000.  When the lease was up, the Herters sold the building.  It was purchased three years later, in April 1906, by well-known real estate operator Joseph L. Buttenwieser.

By the time Buttenwieser bought No. 228, Greenwich Village had become the center of Manhattan’s bohemian community.  Artists, musicians, poets and authors were lured to its winding, charismatic streets.  Among the creative residents of No. 228 in 1910 was Genevieve Almeda Cowles.   Born in 1871 she had an equally-artistic twin sister, Maude.  Genevieve was a well-rounded artist who specialized in mural decoration and stained glass windows.

The Cowles sisters worked together on illustrating The House of the Seven Gables in 1897 (copyright expired)

Although successful in her own right, Genevieve was best known for her cooperative work with her sister.  The women illustrated many books and stories, like the 1899 edition of The House of the Seven Gables, and designed the striking windows in the Honor Room of Grace Church on Broadway.

Genevieve Cowles created this illustration around the turn of the last century -- Scribner's Magazine, copyright expired

A resident with a no-so-artistic bent was George S. Vredenberg.  The fire adjuster’s clerk was living here on February 4, 1912 when he found himself in trouble.  A few hours after a blaze was extinguished in the millinery factory building at No. 636 Broadway, a second fire erupted.  Firemen rushed back to the location to put out this fire, which raised the suspicions of investigators.

“Chief Kenlon had a suspicion that the second fire was caused by a cigarette or cigar dropped carelessly by some one of the people who trailed into a building in the wake of a fire,” reported The New York Times the following day.  The chief interrogated one man, whom he found standing around with a cigar in his mouth.  It was pointed out to the chief that the cigar was not lighted.

The Times said that the matter would have probably been dropped had not George S. Vredenberg walked in.  “According to Chief Kenlon, the young man had a cigar in his mouth, and it was lighted.  The Chief turned to Sergt. Pierce, who was standing near by, and ordered the arrest of Vredenberg.”

The fire adjuster’s clerk was charged “with carrying a lighted cigar into a building in which were both people and a vast amount of highly inflammable material.”

Some of the residents in the building were financially comfortable; as was Jesse G. Velie, a silk merchant who lived here in 1914.  Velie was the senior member of the firm Velie & Reiner and was also associated with the Anchor Mills of Paterson, New Jersey.  That year Jesse Velie found himself a member of the jury in the notorious Charles Becker murder trial.  Becker was a vice-detective who had arranged the murder of Herman Rosenthal, an underworld figure who got in the way of Becker’s system of receiving pay-offs.

In the first decades of the 20^th century Greenwich Village was famous for its tearooms—intimate, candle-lit spaces, often below ground, where artists and uptown “slummers” gathered.  Resident Herbert Lyson owned one such tearoom, located nearby at No. 163 West 4^th Street.  The problem for Lyson on New Year’s Eve 1922 was that he was not serving only tea.  He was serving alcohol.

Prohibition agents raided the tearoom that night, arresting four patrons and Herbert Lyson.  The men were held on $500 bail—nearly $7,000 in today’s dollars.

A few months after Lyson’s embarrassment, Joseph Buttenwieser sold the building for a handsome $80,000. 

In December 1933 Prohibition was repealed—a decade too late for Herbert Lyson.  The street level space at No. 228 West 4^th Street immediately became home to a bar.  Some policemen would have trouble adjusting to the change.

At 4:34 a.m. on July 13, 1934 plainclothes officer Richard Tilson walked into the bar.  He promptly arrested 39-year old bartender Joseph Spina for “having sold him two drinks” after hours.  The judge released Spina and chided the officer.

“Prohibition is over.  When you have a violation of the liquor laws you can’t just bring in any one who is working in the place.  You’ve got to bring in the proprietor.”

Prohibition was over but the days of Socialist and Communist radicalism were not.  The Government kept an eye on Rafael Reyes who lived in the building for about a decade, starting around 1936.  His name appeared regularly on the published list of “Names and Addresses of the Voters for the Communist Party.” 

As the West 4^th Street-Christopher Street area lured tourists and shoppers at mid-century, the former bar at No. 228 became a trendy shop.  In the 1950s it was home to Bon Bazar which sold contemporary home furnishings like fiberglass lampshades and mosaic-topped tables.

Through the 1960s and early ‘70s Amron Gallery operated in the store space.  The unusual gallery offered American Indian and Eskimo crafts.  In March 1969 the gallery offered an even more surprising item—Eskimo appetizers. 

On March 10, 1969 The New York Times reported on the introductory reception.  “Close to 300 people squeezed into the Amron Gallery…and around the 55-gallon tank of goldfish yesterday afternoon to preview a new collection of Eskimo sculpture, prints, toys and artifacts and to nibble on whale meat in Spanish sauce, Arctic char, and marinated muktuk in mustard sauce…Gallery guests ate whale meat in sea food sauce, too, as they browsed among Eskimo caribou antler carvings and soapstone sculptures.”

By the 1990s the gallery had given way to Jack the Ripper Pub, a horror-themed restaurant; and more recently a more traditional eatery, Wilfie & Nell took over.  In the meantime, Peter Herter’s fantastic tenement façade remains almost unchanged.   A discouraging but necessary fire escape veils the exaggerated detailing; but the whimsical façade is worth a pause in an attempt to absorb it all.

photos by the author

The Wm. H. Gray House -- No. 258 W. 4th Street

Stripped of its carved decorative details, the house still commands a presence.

William Herman Gray’s parents had much to be proud of in their son.  In 1843, at the age of 13, he began work in the hardware business, earning $50 a year (luckily for William he still lived at home—his salary would equal about $32 a week today).    But, according to a later chronicler, “by perseverance and ability he had his salary advanced until he received $1,200 a year.”

Gray’s father was a Scottish immigrant and his mother was of Dutch descent.  The thrifty boy saved enough money to buy them a house on Barrow Street in Greenwich Village.   Then, in 1859, he purchased a small carriage shop at 27 Wooster Street from Major Thompson.    Typical of Gray’s industrious nature, his carriage business grew and prospered until he would eventually erect a large building across the street at Nos. 20 and 22 Wooster.  The Hub would later say that here “he conducted one of the largest establishments of its kind in the city, through which, and by judicious investments in real estate, he amassed a handsome fortune.”

In 1858 Gray married Eliza, the youngest daughter of another popular carriage builder Solomon Banta.   The couple would have four children—three daughters and a son.  

In 1866, with the Civil War over for nearly a year, not only would Gray’s carriage business have increased; but the construction workers who had marched off to the South had returned.  That year William H. Gray contracted architect William Naugle to design a fashionable new home for the family.  The block of West 4^th Street between Perry and Charles Streets was already home to merchant class families.  But the Gray house would stand out.

Naugle introduced the newly-fashionable French Second Empire style to the block.   Slightly wider than its neighbors, the brownstone-fronted home rose three stories—including the stylish mansard roof—above a deep English basement.    The Gray family announced their presence on the block with an up-to-the-minute mini-mansion.

photograph from The Hub, June 1893 (copyright expired)

William Gray filled the house with art.  According to The Hub in 1893, “He was something of an art collector, and took great pride in his fine collection of paintings.”  The carriage trade journal added “In his domestic life he was eminently happy, and although a member of a number of clubs and associations, he enjoyed best his home and family.”

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The carefully-paneled sides of the entrance match exactly the panels of the doors.

Perhaps because of his own scant formal education, Gray was intensely interested in the school system.   He served as a School Commissioner for decades and was a trustee of the College of the City of New York.  It was of little surprise when, in 1878, William Henry Gray, Jr. enrolled for his first year at the City College.

Just four years after moving in, 31-year old Eliza Jane Gray died on Sunday, the 25^th of September, 1870.  Two days later at noon her funeral was held in the West 4^th Street house.  William’s aging and widowed mother, Helen Maria Taylor Gray, came to live with the family on West 4^th Street.

By now William Gray was investing heavily in real estate.  On December 12, 1874, for instance, the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide announced that he was “building a five-story brick tenement at 458 W. 18^th Street” designed by architect J. J. Howard.

Eight years after Eliza’s death, William married the widow of Thomas Fitzgerald Campbell.   The high esteem in which her well-known father, John Boyd, was held resulted in the name of their only child, John Boyd Gray, born in 1880.

The joy of the baby’s birth was tempered by another funeral in the house that same year.  William’s 84-year old mother died here on Saturday morning, May 1.  The funeral took place at 2:00 two days later.

Gray asserted his selection to be the largest in New York City -- New-York Tribune, June 10, 1888 (copyright expired)

Gray’s carriage business offered hundreds of vehicles.  The Sun, on November 4, 1889 said “Mr. William H. Gray of 20-22 Wooster street has a great many real English surreys and landaus on hand.  He also has a long line of American-built goods after English patterns.  If you are looking for a good and stylish carriage, and do not wish to spend very much money for it, it will always be worth your while to visit Mr. Gray’s warehouse before making your purchase.”

The newspaper explained that along with the new models, Gray offered reconditioned vehicles.  Its Victorian endorsement smacked of a 21^st century used-car advertisement.

“Mr. Gray has on hand nearly 700 second-hand carriages which have been used but little, and so fixed up as to be undistinguishable from new ones.  Mr. Gray bought these in small lots at ridiculously low figures, and is able to sell them at corresponding low prices.”

By the time of William Herman Gray’s death in 1893, the family had moved to No. 210 West 72^nd Street.   The carriage business passed to his son, William Jr., who drove the thriving firm into bankruptcy in 1898.

As was the case with many of the large private homes at the turn of the century, the Gray residence was converted to a boarding house.  In 1919 it was owned by Mrs. P. A. Walsh who leased apartments in the building.

Throughout the rest of the century the once-upscale home saw the comings and goings of apartment renters.  At some point, most likely at mid-century, the carved brownstone lintels and the doorway enframement were shaved off in an attempt to modernize its appearance.

An eye-catching caramel-colored marble mantel survives in an otherwise stripped room, once hung with Wm. Gray's extensive art collection.  http://www.corcoran.com/nyc/Listings/Display/2315762

Still divided into apartments, there is little left of the 1866 interiors.  Although some elements, like the fishscale tiles on the mansard and the paneled faschia board below the cornice, survive; the house suffers neglect and decay.   Nevertheless, it is a striking example of the development of Greenwich Village in the first years after the Civil War.

no-credited photographs taken by the author

Village Charm -- No. 243 West 4th Street

 
In the 1920s Greenwich Village was the center of New York’s bohemian life.   For more than a decade artists, musicians, poets and writers had been lured to its winding, quaint streets.  Along with the colorful denizens came subterranean tearooms, wine cafes and picturesque restaurants.   And by the ‘20s upper or middle-class residents from uptown (known as “slummers” by the locals) flocked to these haunts for daring evenings out.

Dante Gerelli and his wife lived in the handsome Italianate rowhouse at No. 49 Charles Street, on the corner of West 4^th Street.   Rather than convert the basement level to a restaurant, as so many enterprising property owners were doing, the 36-year old Italian commissioned Vincent M. Cajano to design a two-story extension behind the house.  The architect’s office was nearby at No. 239 Bleecker Street and he focused much of his work in the Village.

Completed in 1927, it was a charming sandy-colored brick structure with a decidedly Mediterranean flavor.  Cajano used rough-textured brick to give the building an aged, rustic feel.  Arched windows above the two entrances—one for the residence upstairs and one into the restaurant—were graced with delightful iron Juliette balconies.  A matching balcony stretched the width of the centered triple window between them.   The Southern Italian motif was continued in the false roof of clay tiles that projected from the parapet and in the heavy wooden doors with beaten iron strap hinges.

The new building took the place of two small dwelling houses, No. 241 having been the home of W. H. Crawford in the 1880s.  In order to imply age, Cajano may have gone out of his way to make his two story structure appear to be a converted carriage house.

The little restaurant building looked, in 1933, little different than it does today.  photo from the collection of the New York Public Library

While Dante and his wife lived in the large house on Charles Street, Anthony Gerella (building documents may have misspelled his surname) was living above the restaurant.  The Gerellis were here until January 1937, when Dante sold the property to neighbor Joseph Barile, who lived at No. 59 Charles Street.

The little building continued to serve as a restaurant at ground level and apartment above for decades.  In 1951 when Leo Tagalos married Jean House, a New Orleans native, the couple moved in upstairs.

Then in 1969 the quaint little building was converted to two duplex apartments.  That arrangement would be short-lived, and just three years later it was renovated into a single family home.  The charismatic little building is little changed since 1927.  And, as Vincent Cajano intended, it looks for all the world as if it has sat on West 4^th Street for half a century longer.

photos by the author