Charles Rentz's 1891 100-102 West Houston Street

Architect Charles Rentz's business was booming in 1890.  On November 21, 1890 alone he filed plans for four substantial buildings.  Among them was a "six-story stone and iron warehouse, with elevators, engines, etc." at 100 and 102 West Houston Street for Levy & Co.  Rentz placed the construction costs at $45,000, or about $1.6 million in 2026.

Charles Rentz designed the structure's two mirror-image sections in a reserved version of Romanesque Revival.  Completed in 1891, it was faced in brick above a cast iron base.  Triptych windows at the second floor sat within segmental arches, while the grouped windows of the midsection shared a single stone lintel.  The three-story pier between them was decorated with large, ornamental anchor plates.  Above the fully arched openings of the top floor was a bracketed cornice.

Among the initial tenants was Peter J. Brett, who manufactured "bonnet frames" on the fifth floor.  His ten male employees worked 53 hours per week.  Early on the morning of March 25, 1895, fire was discovered in Brett's shop.  The New York Times reported, "The firemen soon put it out, and some of them had left, while others were cleaning up the debris."  Those who remained were Captain Johnson and seven firefighters.  They "were putting things to rights," said the New York Herald, when a gas meter exploded.  "The shock threw them off their feet, but the things which were fired about shot over their heads, so they were not hurt."

The explosion started a second fire "and the rest of the firemen had to come back to put it out," reported the New York Herald.  The second blaze was worse than the first and Brett incurred damages of $10,000--a significant $385,000 today.

from the collection of the New York Public Library

Like Peter J. Brett, several of the tenants were millinery-related.  At the turn of the century, Eugene Razetti, Sardi & Valente, and Rossig Bros.--all three makers of artificial flowers and foliage for women's hats--were here.  Unlike Brett, who employed only men, Sardi & Valente's staff was heavily female: 17 women and 3 men.

Both firms advertised in The Millinery Trade Review in November 1904 (copyright expired)

Also occupying space at the turn of the century was the Standard Embroidery Company (on October 2, 1904, it advertised for a "Boy, Hebrew, for errands and make himself generally useful"), the Chemical Novelty Co., and M. Friedman & Co., makers of umbrella handles.  The latter was established in 1881 and moved into the West Houston Street building in 1892.  In 1905, Trunks Leather Goods and Umbrellas called M. Friedman & Co. "the oldest umbrella handle manufacturers in New York."

In the meantime, the ground floor was home to Rigolletti's Restaurant.  Working for Eugene Razzetti upstairs was Caesar Razzetti, presumably a son.  On the night of February 22, 1908, Eugene met his uncle, Gerolamo Cella, a respected importer of Italian wines, in the restaurant.  They and some friends played cards, but, according to The Sun, "During the came [Cella] was gloomy and inattentive."  The newspaper said, "As he was leaving he told the little party that they might soon be called to attend his funeral."  Cella was right.  He went home and committed suicide.

By the World War I years, J. Mackey & Co. was here, making "the campaign hat strap adopted by the new National Army," according to an ad in December 1917.  The firm also manufactured, "leather visors, chin straps, trimmings for uniform caps complete."

The post-war years saw millinery firms replaced with a variety of businesses.  In the early 1920s, Forsberg Electric Mfg. Co. and Conway Import Company were here; and by 1930 C. M. Blodgett, publishers of advertising calendars operated in the building.

Geyer's Stationery, September 1930 (copyright expired)

For some reason, 100-102 West Houston Street became a target for burglars in 1920.  Between January and August that year, there were eight break-ins, two of them targeting Conway Import Company.  It happened again on August 22.  The Evening World reported, "A safe-ripping which failed to remove the inner door was disclosed to-day when the store of the Conway Import Company, olive oil importers at Nos. 100-102 West Houston Street, was opened."

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Savoy Provision Company of Manhattan moved into the building in the Depression years and would remain for decades.  It was nearly involved in what the Staten Island Advance called an "early-morning barbecue" on June 10, 1947.  The article said that firemen were "called to put out a blaze in the cab of a meat truck to the rear of 1004 Arden avenue, Annadale."   How a fire could have started in the Savoy Provision Company's truck was unexplained.

The firm occupied the building until the early 1980s.  A conversion completed in 1985 resulted in six cooperative apartments.  It was possibly at this time that the cornice was removed.

As had been the case in 1908, the ground floor became a restaurant.  Fratelli Cangiani opened in June 1988, replaced by Jane at the turn of the century, and followed by Sarabeth.

photographs by the author

Murders, Suicides and Jazz - 90 West Houston Street

 

A flurry of construction along Houston Street between Laurens Street and Thompson Street around 1828 filled the block with two-and-a-half story Federal-style homes.  (This section of Houston Street would later become West Houston, and Laurens Street would be renamed South Fifth Avenue in 1870, West Broadway in 1896, and LaGuardia Place in 1967.)  Like its neighbors, 90 Houston Street would have been faced in Flemish bond brick, while one or two dormers would have pierced its peaked roof.  

Beyond the rear yards of the Houston Street houses were the elegant homes on Bleecker Street.  Angelica Gilbert, perhaps, hoped to draw clientele from those wealthy families.  She established Miss Angelica Gilbert's Boarding & Day School in 90 Houston Street.  An advertisement in the New-York Evening Post on September 2, 1830 described the school as being, "where with competent assistance, children are taught the rudiments, and young ladies the highest branches of a sound and elegant education."  And, indeed, Angelica Gilbert's students came from some of Manhattan's most illustrious families, including the Rhinelanders, Kipps, and Wards.

As early as 1850, the 18-foot-wide house had multiple occupants.  Listed here that year were Archibald Murray, a carver; and two butchers, William Odell who worked in the Essex Market, and George Vale, whose store was on Stanton Street.

Produce merchant Peter Lisse and his wife, Ernestine, were here in 1853.  Apparently boarding with them was Francis Burke, who operated a liquor store or saloon.  

Following Peter Lisse's death in 1854, Ernestine took over his business, listing her profession as "vegetables" in the Union Market.  She also now accepted more boarders.  Listed here in 1857, along with Francis Burke, were cabinetmaker John Hoffman; upholsterer George Stetter; and Simon Lampert, a "segarmaker."

Boarding here in 1870 was Margarette P. Luthy.  On June 10 that year, Walter L. Butler arrived at the house and handed her a letter from her good friend, Fannie C. Shattuck, who lived on Second Avenue.  In it Fannie apologized for her handwriting, saying, "I am very nervous," and explained, "When I see you again I will be a married woman."  The letter said that she and the man bringing the letter were to be married at 3:00 that day, and asked to borrow some of Margarette's things for the ceremony.  The letter said in part:

You know what I mean--your collar and undersleeves--and if you will oblige me so much will you loan me a pair of earrings and any little thing that you would think would do for me to get married in, and I will take the best of care of them, and would like to see you on to-morrow morning without fail.  Please send by my intended anything you will loan me, as I have not much time.

Margaretta Luthy gave Fannie Shattuck's "intended" a pair of gold and coral earrings, a breast pin, a lace collar, handkerchief, a "chemisette and a pair of undersleeves."  The items were valued by Margarette at $68, or nearly $1,750 in 2026 terms.  

When the blushing bride did not arrive the next day, Margarette investigated.  Fannie C. Shattuck was not married, nor had she been engaged.  And the letter's handwriting was unfamiliar not because Fannie had been nervous, it was because it was written by Walter Butler.

As it turned out, Butler was the ne'er-do-well nephew of Civil War General Benjamin F. Butler.  He was tracked down and arrested in Yorkville on June 24.  The New York Herald reported, "Butler attempted to cut his throat before he was taken from the house."  He pleaded guilty and sentenced to two years' and six months' hard labor.

Owner J. L. Brooks made significant changes to the building in 1871.   On February 11, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that he would transform the "two and a half story...second-class dwelling" by raising the attic to a full third floor "with Mansard roof to be added."  The building would be enlarged to the rear with an eight-foot deep extension, as well.  Equally important, The New York Times noted, "store to be made in front."

Brooks's contractor transformed the Federal-style house to a Second Empire-style store-and-apartment building.  A cast iron storefront was installed, and a stylish mansard with three prominent dormers brought the building up to date.

via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

West Houston Street was becoming increasingly commercial, and the neighborhood in general was filling with immigrants.  Among Brooks's initial tenants was Pierre Fagani.  He was arrested on June 10, 1872, charged "with having stolen a counterfeit $20 bill, and afterward attempted to pass it on a poor shoe-maker," as reported The New York Times.

The ground floor became home to Joseph Rath's beer saloon.  It changed hands over the subsequent years.  By 1879, it was run by Adolph Luttig.

Several of the tenants continued to be on the wrong side of the law.  Around midnight on March 5, 1881, resident James McDonnell and five other thugs attacked Alfred Speanot on South Fifth Avenue.  Speanot tried to escape on Bleecker Street, but the three overtook him, knocked him down and beat him while trying to snatch his watch.  Police Officer Scullion came on the scene and while three of the men fled, Scullion captured the others, including James McDonnell.  When asked in court what they had to say, one of the prisoners explained that Speanot, "struck them first."  

Pierre Soulan, who lived here with his wife in 1888, worked as a waiter in the exclusive Delmonico restaurant.  A native Frenchman, The Evening World said he was "well connected in his native country."  In October that year, Soulan's eyes "began to trouble him," according to The Evening World.  On the advice of his physician, he went to the Eye and Ear Infirmary where an operation was performed.

The surgery was not only unsuccessful, it left Soulan in significant pain.  A second operation was proposed.  The Evening World said that since the first procedure, Soulan "has been more or less deranged."  At 5:00 on the morning of December 5, Mrs. Soulan called her husband to breakfast, saying it was nearly time to go to work.  She then noticed blood on the bedclothes.  Soulan, who was unconscious from a loss of blood, had slit his wrists with a razor while still in bed.  The Sun said, "It is supposed that the prospect of another operation was too much for him."  Amazingly, at Bellevue Hospital it was said he would recover.  (He would, however, now face charges of attempted suicide.)

The Morris family occupied rooms here in 1894.  On the evening of July 4 that year, 17-year-old Frank Morris and his 14-year-old friend, William Laugin, who lived around the corner, were setting off firecrackers on South Fifth Avenue between Bleecker and Houston Streets.  They would be witnesses to a brutal crime.

Maggie Davis and her boyfriend, George Washington Gibbin, had been drinking that night.  The two separated and, suspicious, Maggie followed George.  The New York Herald reported that she "saw him talking to another woman."  She went home, retrieved a large butcher knife, and went out looking for Gibbin.  She found him near the spot where Morris and Laugin were lighting their firecrackers.  Frank Morris turned just in time to see Maggie, who had sneaked up behind Gibbin, raise the knife.  He yelled a warning to the unsuspecting man, but it was too late.  The New York Herald said, "As he did the weapon descended three times in rapid succession.  Gibbon was stabbed in the back, in the chest, and in the right thigh."

Morris and Laugin were in court to testify.  While Maggie Davis (who was "well known to the police as a general hard character") insisted she had not done the stabbing, the New York Herald said, "Morris and Laugin both contradicted her."

In the meantime, the ground floor space at 90 West Houston Street became J. S. Rowley's Restaurant in 1893.  The patrons of the all-night operation were not necessarily upstanding citizens.  

Among the regular customers was Alice Walsh, whom The Evening World described as a "poor outcast."  She entered the restaurant at around 12:30 on the morning of April 21, 1895.  According to the cook, Michael C. McNamara, a few minutes later four men entered, one of them saying, "There she is."

Alice was "much disturbed" according to McNamara, "and then became very angry when the men began to abuse her for having deserted them."  When one of the men threatened her, Alice "retorted by showering vile epithets upon him, after the fashion of the women of the street."

One of the men told Alice to come with them to the Yorktown Hotel.

"Not on your life," she answered.

"We'll make you," said one of the men.

"No you won't," said Alice, and she pulled out a long, steel hairpin and threatened, "I'll stick you with this, --- you, and I mean what I say."

Finally, at around 1:55 a.m., all five left.  McNamara said as they headed toward Thompson Street, he could still hear them "talking loudly and making threats."  Later that morning, Alice Walsh's body was found "in the squalid hallway at 148 Thompson Street."  She had been kicked and beaten and then fatally stabbed in the abdomen.

A month later, on May 18, 32-year-old Tony Murphy was "ejected from Rowley's restaurant by Walter Patrick Henry,"  as reported by The Evening World.  The barman was less than gentle in removing the unwanted customer.  Murphy was found unconscious on the sidewalk outside at 5:00 that morning, bleeding from the head.  The newspaper reported that he was hospitalized with a "probable fracture of the skull."  Walter Henry was arrested.

Pierre Soulan was not the last of the tenants here to attempt suicide.  Jacob Froelich, a tinsmith, lived here in 1899 when he became infatuated with another resident, Mrs. Taylor.  On November 17, he swallowed Paris Green, a rodenticide, because Mrs. Taylor "did not look favorably upon his suit," reported the New York Herald.  The article noted that he had done this before, "but cried out in time."  It added, "He will not die this time either."

More successful was Louis Guillemot, who lived here with his wife and two children in 1900.  The 24-year-old worked as a collector for an insurance company--calling on clients and receiving their premiums.  Each morning he would meet his supervisor at a grocery store on Macdougal Street to report and turn over his collections.  

On the morning of February 7, 1900, he was in trouble.  He had used $15 of his previous day's collection (about $600 today) for personal purposes.  Just before his supervisor arrived, he mentioned his plight to someone in the store, then walked into the rear room and shot himself in the chest.

The store space here became home to M. Martin & Co., commercial plumbers, by 1916.  A delicatessen occupied the space during the Depression years, and in 1964 it was converted to a luncheonette.  At the same time, the upper floors were converted to apartments, two per floor.

Among the tenants in 1986 was Ruth Polsky, a booking agent for clubs and discotheques.  On the night of September 8 that year, she was outside the Limelight on Sixth Avenue when a driver for a car service ran a red light and smashed into a taxicab.  The taxi spun out of control and careened into five people on the sidewalk, including Ruth Polsky, who was killed.

The ground floor space became Zinc Bar in 1993.  In reporting its opening, The Villager said, "Along with espresso, they provide blues and jazz and some Brazilian music."  Zinc Bar remained here until July 2008.  A coffee house, Moka Moment, occupies the space today.

photograph by the author

The Altered John R. Hedley House - 96 West Houston Street

 

image via cityrealty.com

Thousands of citizens fled New York City to Greenwich Village following the outbreak of yellow fever in 1822.  The population explosion necessitated a flurry of construction.  Established builders were soon joined by unexpected speculators, like John R. Hedley, who erected a two-and-a-half story house at 96 Houston Street around 1828.

Before 1808, Nicholas Bayard III had cut a road through his property which he named Houstoun Street, named for his son-in-law, William Houstoun.  It was later corrupted to Houston Street, and when it was extended east to connect with North Street, this section became West Houston Street.

The brick-faced house originally featured a stone stoop.  Its Federal design included Flemish bond brickwork, splayed and stepped lintels, and two dormers at the attic level.  

Originally, 96 West Houston would have looked very much like its contemporary at 195 West Houston Street.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

Hedley leased the residence.  In 1829 it was shared with the families of William R. Thurston, the president of the Merchants' Insurance Company; and Gilbert Everinghim, a fabrics dealer, and his wife, the former Phoebe Delaplaine.  The following year, merchant Israel S. Tucker and his family occupied the house.

By the end of the Civil War, the ground floor of 96 West Houston Street had been converted for business.  A. Loppin's shop, here as early as 1871, created trimmings for milliners.  On September 1, 1871, he advertised, "Artificial Flowers--Good hands wanted; none but first-rate workers need apply," and on September 12, 1883, an ad in The Sun read, "Ostrich Feathers--Wanted, a girl 14 years old to learn the trade."

At the time, Andreas Eppler and his wife, the former Annie Deisenroth, ran the Appenzeller Hof, a boarding house for German immigrants on Wooster Street.  Among their boarders was John Roggenbrod.  Unknown to the Epplers, he was seriously disturbed and developed a dangerous infatuation with Annie, one that festered even after he moved out.

On January 14, 1884, Annie went to the Washington Market with $800.  She never returned.  Andreas, according to The New York Times, spent all his money "in hunting for his wife."  He lost the boarding house and opened "a miserable little restaurant in the two-story frame building No. 7 Chrystie-street."

In the meantime, Annie was frantically trying to get back to her husband.  The day she disappeared, Roggenbrod met her at the market, "put a [drugged] handkerchief to her face, and made her oblivious of all that happened until she found herself in a railroad station at Philadelphia," reported The Times.  Roggenbrod told her he "would kill her rather than lose her."  He took her money and forced her to live as his wife, moving around until they took rooms at 96 West Houston Street.  After living there for six weeks, Annie finally saw a chance to escape.

During the second week of July 1885, she appeared at Andreas's restaurant and "regaled her spouse with her adventures," said The New York Times.  She told him she feared for her life and Eppler promised to protect her.  She would need protection, as it turned out, twice.

On August 15, Annie left the restaurant to buy meat on Bayard Street.  Andreas watched her from the window and saw Roggenbrod following her.  He caught up with him just as Roggenbrod was about to seize Annie by the shoulder.  The Times reported, "Eppler contented himself with knocking Roggenbrod into the gutter and escorting his wife home."

Then, on August 25, Annie left again to buy provisions.  Near Forsyth and Divisions Streets, she was attacked by Roggenbrod who "struck her fiercely with his fists upon her left eye and breast, and then drawing a razor tried to cut her."  He slashed her forehead and left ear before her screams brought help from a passing man.  He held Roggenbrod until Annie was at a safe distance, then allowed him to flee.  Despite bleeding profusely, Annie pursued Roggenbrod, shouting for passersby to stop him.  When she saw a group of boys, she shouted, "Ten cents for you if you don't lose him."

Eventually Roggenbrod was found hiding in a cellar where he had attempted to cut his throat.  Annie was treated by a police surgeon then taken to her home, "suffering severely from shock, as well as from her injuries," according to The New York Times.  Roggenbrod was taken to the Chambers Street Hospital where he was arrested.

In March 1886, Andrew Jahn purchased 96 West Houston Street for $14,500 (about $500,000 in 2025 terms).  He and his wife, Maria, had at least two sons, Henry and Harry.  

The family took in roomers over the years.  Their most colorful tenant was "Sconchin" Maloney, who arrived in New York from San Francisco in 1897.  The Sun described him as "an Irishman with a Western reputation and a faculty for getting into trouble here in the East."  The newspaper said, "Out West his main business seems to have been doing work for politicians and acting as the bodyguard of millionaires."  The scrappy 60-year-old was "handy with his fists."

Since moving to New York, Maloney "spent much time around the uptown hotels and saloons," according to The Sun.  But his quarrelsome personality resulted in his being prohibited from many establishments.  "He got into so many arguments that several hotel proprietors barred him from their places." 

In November 1898, while living here, Maloney was arrested "for creating a disturbance on Broadway."  A month later, on  the evening of December 2, he walked into the Imperial Hotel to buy a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle.  Unfortunately, it was one of the establishments from which he was barred and before he could purchase the newspaper, he was ordered out.  When he refused to leave, the hotel detective, another Irishman named Joseph McMullin, attempted to eject him.  (Interestingly, the two already knew one another from San Francisco.)

Fisticuffs followed, during which McMullin "was getting the worst of the scuffle and he pulled his billy," reported the Chronicle.  Bystanders pulled the two apart and Maloney left.  But half an hour later, while Maloney was standing at the corner of Sixth Avenue and 31st Street, "McMullin ran up behind him and struck him with a club."  The fight started up again.  Both were locked up and charged with disorderly conduct.

By then, the Jahn boys were teenagers.  On September 2, 1899, an advertisement appeared in The Metal Worker that read, "Young man, 18, desires to learn tinsmith and cornice making trade; has knowledge of roofing.  Henry Jahn, 96 West Houston street, New York."  And on November 6, 1903, The City Record noted that Harry John had taken the civil service test to become a police officer.  (It was his second attempt.)

Andrew Jahn died in the house on August 4, 1908 and his funeral was held here two days later.  When Maria sold the property in April 1914 to Joseph Personeni "for about $20,000," according to the Record & Guide, it was still described as a "2-1/2 story building."  

It was most likely Personeni who changed that description, removing the stoop and lowering the doorway to the sidewalk, and raising the attic to a full third floor.  A brick parapet forewent a cornice.

Seen here in 1932, the lowering of the doorway resulted in a disproportionately large transom.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The basement level was converted to a restaurant.  Like all restaurants around the nation, it was greatly affected by the enactment of Prohibition.  And like many establishments, the Alce D'Oro quietly ignored the law.  On July 3, 1926, The Billboard reported on 21 "padlock decrees" that had been slapped on establishments by Prohibition agents.  "The Alce D'Oro, 96 West Houston street, was ordered closed for three months," said the article. 

Rocco and Rosina Bochicchio purchased 96 West Houston Street in 1929.  The Record & Guide described it now as a "tenement," meaning that it was a multi-family building.  The Bochicchios lived in one of the apartments.  

Shortly after midnight on November 10, 1931, Rocco Bochicchio notified police that his car was taken from in front of the building.  Unfortunately for him, he would not get it back--at least not in the shape it was when stolen.  

Several hours later, patrolman Edward Rogers was standing at Bayard and Mott Streets when he recognized the license plate of Bochicchio's stolen automobile.  He ordered the driver to stop.  "Instead the driver turned out the lights and stepped on the accelerator.  The car shot west in Bayard street," reported The Evening Post.

Rogers picked up another patrolman and they commandeered a delivery truck.  A scene straight from a cops-and-robbers movie followed.  The Evening Post said,

The machine with the Negroes careered through White Street and into Broadway with the patrolmen, leaning from the running boards of the truck, firing at the fugitive machine whenever it presented a target.

Another cop, John Henle, joined the chase in a taxicab.  "He also fired at the fleeing car," said the article.  At Third Avenue and 13th Street, the driver lost control and crashed Bochicchio's automobile onto the sidewalk.  He and his five passengers fled on foot.  Four were arrested shortly after.

A scar in the brickwork testifies to the original location of the entranceway.

A renovation in 1941 resulted in a store in the basement, and two apartments each on the other floors.  Among the tenants in 1944 were the Albano family: Vincent Jr., John and Geraldine.

By 1996, the commercial space was home to the Alu Showroom, an aluminum fixture firm.  It was replaced in September 2012 by Fair Folks, a cafe/art gallery.  The New York Times explained on September 27, "For $25 a month, members get unlimited coffee and espresso, and discounts on the art and design."  More recently, Sekai, Omakase, a sushi restaurant, moved in.

Despite the significant renovations, little imagination is necessary to envision 96 West Houston Street as it looked in the 1830s.

photographs by the author

The Incredible History of 220 West Houston Street

 

Charles S. Holt incurred the wrath of his neighbors in 1842.  The enterprising "tallow chandler" manufactured soap in the rear yard of his home at 58 Downing Street.  On October 22, 1842, the Mourning Courier reported that he "was tried for a public nuisance, in boiling stinking and rotten meats on the premises occupied by him, No. 58 Downing street, for the purpose of extracting the grease therefrom."  Holt moved his family into the house and store nearly directly behind, at 53 Hamersley Street and established his soap factory next door at 51 Hamersley Street.

Holt remained here at least through 1847.  By 1851, the house and factory were occupied by the Nichol & Merklee iron foundry, run by George F. Merklee and John Nichol.  The upper floors of 53 Hamersley were rented out.  Among the working class tenants in 1853 was James Riley, a seaman.

In 1854, John Nichol partnered with George B. Billerwell and the business was reorganized as Nichol & Billerwell.  The foundry moved east to 33 Hamersley Street, while the firm's offices remained on the ground floor of 53 Hamersley (renamed and numbered 220 West Houston Street in 1861) at least through 1868.  (Interestingly, for one year, in 1863, John Nichol occupied a room upstairs.)

In the rear yard was a secondary house.  In 1855, it was home to Mary Carniaux, a widow; Dennis Farrell and William Nelson, both tailors; and jockey Patrick Tenney.  Ellen and James Tenney, who lived in the main house, were most likely Patrick's parents.  James was a carman and Ellen was a dressmaker.  Also living in the main house were Catherine, the widow of Thomas G. Smith; and carpenter John A. Jones.

Despite what must have been tight conditions, when a respected policeman died in January 1870, his funeral was held in his rooms.  On January 15, the New-York Tribune reported, "The funeral of Se'rgt. O'Connor took place from his late residence No. 220 West Houston-st., at 10 a.m. yesterday, and was largely attended.  The coffin was borne upon the shoulder of the deceased's immediate friends, members of the force, and a platoon of the Twenty-eighth Precinct followed the remains to St. Patrick's Cathedral."

James M. Clark opened his wheelwright (wagon and carriage repair) shop on the ground floor in 1879.  He remained for a decade, after which it became the headquarters of D. I. Christie & Co.  David I. Christie owned the stables next door, as well as livery stables throughout the city and even in Paterson, New Jersey.

At the turn of the century, the neighborhood around 220 West Houston Street was part of what newspapers called the "Italian colony."  Living here in 1904 was Francesco Bagnasco, a waiter.  Early on the morning of October 12, he was found by police on the sidewalk at Macdougal Street and Minetta Lane "almost unconscious from the loss of blood," according to the New-York Tribune.  A long cut had been slashed on both cheeks with a cross carved under them.  One of the policeman thought they "were the work of some Italian secret society."

Collier's magazine said Bagnasco "refused to say where the assault occurred or who were his assailants."  Detectives followed a blood trail "for more than a mile through downtown streets, to the Italian colony east of Broadway, and finally to the door of a tenement house at No. 159 Elizabeth-st.," reported the Tribune.  "They learned nothing there, however."

D. I. Christie remained here at least through 1915.  In 1930 the ground floor was converted to a restaurant, the second floor to a social club, and the third to an office.  In 1963, the Lodge Restaurant, run by Vincent H. Petti, occupied the ground floor and the Knickerbocker Council of the Knights of Columbus was on the second floor.  It remained through 1969, after which a much different tenant moved in.

 A luncheonette occupied the ground floor in 1941.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The space became the 220 Club, run by Sal "Sally" Maggio and Jesse Torres.  In his 2014 The Life & Music of Lou Reed, Jeremy Reed describes the 220 Club as, "one of the most famous of the transgender/gay nightclubs of the early seventies," noting,

The 220 Club...was the principal venue for the transgender crowd, a distinction later shared by its upgrades, the Greenwich Pub, Sally's Hideaway and later Sally's II.  Sally's partner, Jesse Torres, a femme queen also, was a significant glam attraction at the 220 Club, dragging it up as hostess manager.

A regular at the 220 Club was musician and songwriter Lou Reed of the The Velvet Underground.  According to Will Hermes in his Lou Reed - The King of New York, the songs Sally Can't Dance and Ride, Sally, Ride were, "likely a wink to Sal 'Sally' Maggio."

A trip to the 220 Club had its risks.  Patrons were routinely mugged or worse.  On December 6, 1977, The Villager reported, "At 3:30 am on November 27, a male resident of Long Island was standing in front of 220 West Houston Street when seven men jumped him, assaulted him, taking $300 in cash, credit cards, and wallet."  Three months later, on January 12, 1978, the newspaper reported, "a Queens resident was reportedly robbed of $3,050 by a couple in the bathroom of the 220 Club, an after hours club at 220 West Houston Street."  The article said, "the victim was apparently confronted by the woman who propositioned him and then was joined by her male accomplice.  Both escaped."  Numerous, similar crimes were reported throughout the 1980s.

The Ganymede Gallery opened here in 1992.  That year in April, it presented "Men by Women," which The New York Times described as "art about men by eight women."  Three months later, an exhibition of photographs by "fifty people living with HIV/Aids," according to New York Magazine, was staged.

In the summer of 1994, Toukie Smith, sister of designer Willi Smith, opened the restaurant Toukie's here.  Jane Freiman of Newsday said, "If her cooking is as tasty as Willi Wear's clothes were timeless, I'll be a fan."  Smith was also known as "a model, an actress and a significant other of the actor Robert De Niro," mentioned Florence Fabricant of The New York Times on September 14.  Smith donated a portion of the profits to the Smith Family Foundation, which benefited people with AIDS, "and honors her brother Willi Smith, the designer, who died of the disease in 1987," said Fabricant.

Toukie's was replaced by Bar Cichetti in 1998, which made way for Brooklyneer in 2011.  Ironically, by 2013 the second floor-- once infamous for after-hours drug and alcohol use--became home to the Midnite Group, an Alcoholics Anonymous organization.

many thanks to reader Jason Kessler for suggesting this post

photographs by the author

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From Carriage Factory to Trendy Club - 60-62 Downing Street (222-224 West Houston Street)

 

The owner of the livery stable at 62 Downing Street was in financial trouble in 1873 and lost his property in foreclosure.  On September 18 a "mortgage sale" was held of "a large number of very valuable Horses, Clarences, open and closed Coaches, light and road Wagons, Hearses, Phaetons, double and single Harness, Blankets, Whips, Stable Fixtures, &c." according to the listing.  Directly behind the stable was the Hammersley Foundry.  (West Houston Street had been called Hammersley Street prior to 1860.)

Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, 1875 (copyright expired)

In 1877 John Nichol sold both properties to David I. Christie and Charles H. See for the equivalent of $120,000 in today's money.  The Downing Street building was three stories tall, while the former foundry building was just one.  Neither of the brick-faced structures aspired to architectural significance, their builders content to create utilitarian structures.  Christie and See joined the two disparate buildings internally.  

It appears they operated the combined buildings as a stable.  On May 2, 1886 Christie advertised in the New York Herald:

For Sale--A sidebar top buggy, Brewster make; single set harness, three blankets, three lap robes, all as good as new; also a good work horse.  Inquire of D. E. Christie, No. 224 West Houston St.

The sale may have been prompted by the men's having leased the property to Daniel H. Johnson that year.  He converted it to a wagon factory.  

In the 1890's the neighborhood was filling with Italian immigrants and Blacks.  By 1896 a portion the building was home to the Unique Club, a gathering spot for local Blacks.  Its proprietor, Thomas Jones, described it as "a regularly organized club," meaning that it was a legitimate social club.  Whether the it was strictly "regular" is debatable.  But either way, Detective John J. Gerrity saw potential profit.  He demanded $20 per month for police "protection."

Trouble came in February when Gerrity pressured Jones for $5 more per month, threatening to shut the club down.  Jones refused and then reported Gerrity's threats to the captain of detectives at the police station.  But, according to The Sun, he "heard nothing more of it."  Then, on Saturday night, February 27, the Unique Club was raided, and 13 men were arrested and charged with gambling.  

In court, Jones told the judge of Gerrity's extortion.  On March 1, 1897, The Sun reported that the judge asked why "he paid for police protection if the club was regularly organized and the law was not violated."  Jones explained that he did it "to avoid trouble as he knew that other clubs had had trouble through stool-pigeons sent in by the police, who would swear to anything asked of them."  Considering racial bias rampant within the police force at the time, Jones made a valid point.

Judge Simms considered the charges against Gerrity "very serious."  He discharged the other 12 men, but held Jones for trial for operating a gambling house (Gerrity had provided a "stool-pigeon," exactly as Jones had feared.)  Nevertheless, the judge urged Jones "to report his story of Gerrity to the officials at Police Headquarters," as reported by the New York Herald.  "Jones said he would certainly visit [Police Commissioner Theodore] Roosevelt."  

Robert Christie sold the property to the Enarem Realty Corporation in 1927.  On October 28, The New York Evening Post remarked that it had been in the Christie family "for nearly fifty years," adding, "It is occupied by [an] old three-story building."  The following year, in December, the new owners leased the buildings to the Firestone Tire & Rubber Company, Inc. for $6,000 per year (closer to $91,000 today).

A renovation completed the following year resulted in a "garage for more than five automobiles."  It was possibly at this time that the upper floors of the Downing Street building were removed.  It became one of the firm's New York Firestone Service Stores.

The renovations done by Firestone did not extend to exterior charm.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In June 1933, Harvey Firestone described the service stores to The New York Sun.  "One of the most important things in the eyes of the motor car owner today is the element of time...It annoys car owners to make many stops for service.  As a result, Firestone has established its system of one-stop service store, equipping them with highly efficient machinery to give the car owner the best of service quickly and economically."  He said that only "factory trained experts are employed" in the stores.

The Firestone store occupied the building for decades.  It had become the King Bear Auto Service Center by 1981.  But the changing in the neighborhood resulting in a renovation in 2003 for an "eating and drinking establishment."  

On February 27, 2013 Brian Sloan, writing in The New York Times, reported, "There's a new beer hall in town and, surprise, it's actually in Manhattan.  You'd think it would be tough to fit one into the bourgeois West Village, but the owners of Heartland Brewery have done just that, repurposing a parking garage...into a fine de siècle themed drinking parlor for up to 500 people."  Sloan called Houston Hall "Disney does Five Points," saying "it almost feels like a Hollywood backlot version of Tammany-era new York, with rusticated brick walls, meticulously faded old-timey signage and period props galore."

The rather bedraggled appearance of the two structures testifies to their unglamorous history.

photographs by the author

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The First National Stables - 228 West Houston Street

 

In 1862 Edward Senior hired builder William Owens to construct a "brick building" at 228 West Houston Street, running through the block to Downing Street.  Both streets were dotted with livery stables and Senior was about to add one more.  

Faced in red brick, the two facades were identical.  The arched second floor openings wore brick eyebrows, while the upper floor windows were given simple stone lintels and sills.  The simple brick dentiled cornice was a cost savings to Senior.

Named the First National Stables, the commodious structure housed at least 14 horses and a variety of vehicles, including coaches, buggies, wagons, and carriages.  The upper floors provided housing for stable employees.

As aged or lame horses were no longer able to work, they were quickly replaced.  An advertisement in the New York Herald on October 13, 1868 offered: "For Sale--Four cheap horses at The First National stables, No. 228 West Houston street, near Varick."

The Washington Ice Company housed its wagons and teams at The First National Stables.  Work horses were often abused and overworked and this firm's drivers seem to have been especially uncaring for the animals.  On July 28, 1871 The New York Times reported "Six teams belong to this Company had been turned out one afternoon, all having sores under the collars."  The day prior to the article one driver, Charles King, had been arrested "for driving a team of horses before ice-cart No. 137...both badly galled under the collars."  (Galls were open sores caused by the constant rubbing of the leather collars.)

The First National Stables was lost in foreclosure in 1876.  The entire contents were sold at a mortgage auction on October 21.  Included were seven pairs of horses and a variety of vehicles.  Along with the expected carriages and wagons were two "large hearses," one child's hearse, a "covered coffin wagon," a doctor's wagon and a six-seat sleigh.

The business changed hands twice before 1886 when it was leased to T. Higgins, a partner in the Higgins & Dyer's livery stable.  Among its staff was 28-year-old John Brown who lived in an upper room.  On Saturday afternoon, December 18 that year, Brown had been drinking.  At around 3:00 he went next door to Margaret Kelliher's "little tobacco and candy store," as described by The Sun, to buy a package of tobacco.  What should have been a mundane errand turned ugly.

A Black man, he and the white shop owner got into a confrontation.  The Sun reported, "Mrs. Kelliher, who was alone in the store, says that Brown insulted her, and she ordered him out.  He came behind the counter, caught her by the throat, and struck her several heavy blows in the face, knocking her down.  He then assaulted her.  She tried to make an outcry, but he held her mouth shut."

Eleven-year-old Michael Moran walked into the store "just then, to buy two apples."  He ran to the street "scared half to death," said the article.  Using a racist term that would be unprintable in newspapers today, he told Policeman James Dunn that Brown was "killing a woman in here!"

Brown did not help his own case when he added robbery to assault.  Just as Officer Dunn approached the store, he ran out with the money drawer.  Brown dropped the till, scattering coins over the sidewalk.  He was caught two blocks away, and his excuse to Justice Gorman was not convincing.  "I was too crazy drunk to know what I was doing," he pleaded.  He was held on $2,500 bail awaiting trial--a staggering $70,000 in today's money.

In 1893 the two upper floors were converted for the cabinetry and woodworking factory of C. Boege & Sons, makers of saloon furniture like the bars and elaborate mirrored backbars that graced Victorian saloons and restaurants.   The firm remained here until around 1902.

That year the three-story stable portion was leased to the Senderling Co. and the upper floors became home to the Composition Decorative Company, makers of "plaster ornaments," like ceiling medallions.  

The Composition Decorative Company left in 1905 and three years later the entire building was offered for lease.  The advertisement described it as a "five-story brick stable and lofts," with the annual rent of $550 per year (about $15,800 today).

Architect Michael Bardo was hired to update the building in 1923 for the Wilson Paper Stock Company, described by The Paper Industry magazine as "among the largest packers of waste paper in New York."  It would be used as another packing facility for the firm.

The carriage bay had been replaced by a show window when this photo was taken around 1941.  via the NYC Dept. of  Records & Information Services.

The onset of the Great Depression and the repeal of Prohibition brought change.  The Wilson Paper Stock Company left around 1932.  That year the ground floor became the Appraiser's Tavern, and by 1934 the third floor was a costume jewelry factory.   The firm advertised for "people engaged in home selling" that year, suggesting the jewelry was sold door-to-door.

By the mid-1940's Nathan Schectman's photographic case factory was in the building.

Popular Photography, January 1947.

Major change in the neighborhood resulted in the Prince Street Players Loft, an off-Broadway theater, here in the mid-1970's, while the ground floor held Martin's Bar & Grill.  The tavern was the scene of a terrifying incident on October 21, 1977 when three men walked in and joined a patron who had been drinking at the bar.  They displayed guns, forced the bartender and customers into the basement and locked them in.  Warning their captives not to come out for an hour, they escaped with $12,360.

Martin's Bar & Grill was replaced in 1988 by Brother's Bar-B-Q, known for its "smoked pork butt and pork ribs."  On April 13, 1994 The New York Times' food critic Florence Fabricant noted, "Brother's specializes in New Orleans-style barbecue, with plenty of hot sauce."  The following year Brother's Bar-B-Q moved to a larger space nearby on Varick Street.

The Downing Street facade is identical to the West Houston Street elevation.

Today the space is home to a Subway sandwich shop on the West Houston Street side, while a nail spa occupies the Downing Street space.   Despite noticeable abuse, the venerable stables building retains much of its 19th century appearance.

photographs by the author