Fraternal Twins - 127 and 129 West 95th Street

Painted white today, the stonework originally matched that of its neighbors.

In the summer of 1886 developer Charles A. Bouton embarked on a project of six rowhouses on West 95th Street, between Columbus and Amsterdam Avenues.  His choice of architects was interesting.  William J. Merritt & Co. was a prolific developer on the Upper West Side, occasionally acting as its own architect.  When plans were filed on August 6 the architect of record was W. J. Merritt & Co.--normally considered a competitor of Bouton.

Each of the narrow houses--some were 16 feet and the others 17 feet wide--would cost $10,000 to construct, more than a quarter of a million dollars today.  Two of them, the mirror image homes at Nos. 127 and 129, stood out from the otherwise unremarkable row.

Standing in stark contrast to the undulating bowed bays of the other homes, the two upper floors rose with elegant formality.  A single bay of each stepped back to provide a shared balcony above the entrances.   The nubby undressed stone of the parlor level contrasted with the prim brick and planar stone above.  The cornices were crowned with solid brick parapets.

The row was completed in the fall of 1887.  No. 127 was sold in October to the widowed Clara A. Norton, who paid $17,500 (about $465,000 today).   Clara, unlike many upper middle-class women of the day, had an advanced education.   She was a graduate of Mount Holyoke College.   Moving in with her was her mother, Maria C. Ostergreen.  Sadly, Maria's funeral was held in the house the following spring.

Clara and her neighbors lost patience with the city by 1895 when their block was still unpaved.  Dust wafted into parlor windows in the hot summer months, and muddy mires following rainfalls.   She added her name to the petition to the Common Council, signed October 2, 1895, that read:

The undersigned, being the owners of more than fifty per cent of the land on West Ninety-fifth street, between Amsterdam and Columbus avenues, in the City of New York, hereby respectfully petition for the laying of asphalt upon the pavement now in the middle of said street.

The same month that Clara Nolton bought her home, Augustus Pitou purchased No. 129 from Bouton.  Pitou was a prominent figure in the entertainment industry.  The Actors' Birthday Book said of him in 1908 "A clever and versatile man is Augustus Pitou, actor, manager and playwright, and, strange as it may seem, he has made a success at all three vocations, a happy result not given to many."

Born in New York in 1843, Pitou started out as an actor, debuting at the Winter Garden Theatre on March 18, 1867 as the priest in Hamlet, supporting the famous Shakespearean actor Edwin Booth.   Booth paid him $8 per week.   The young actor did well and in October that year his salary was raised to $12.

After acting with Booth's company for many years, Pitou managed theaters, and then managed stars.  Among the well-known thespians he handled were Chauncey Olcott, Rose Coghlan and W. J. Scanlon.

Augustus Pitou from his 1914 book Masters of the Show (copyright expired)

After moving into the West 95th Street house, he began play writing as well.  Among the plays he wrote here were the 1891 The Power of the Press, which starred George Jessop at the Star Theatre; and Across the Potomac, which debuted on April 18, 1892 at Proctor's Twenty-Third Street Theatre.

Both Clara and Augustus were gone by the turn of the century.  In 1898 attorney and real estate broker John C. R. Eckerson and his wife, Edith, purchased No. 127 and Melancthon S. Ayers moved into No. 129 around 1902.  The country was still recovering from the devastating Financial Panic of 1893.  That was reflected in the price Eckerson paid--$2,000 less than what Clara had originally laid out.

Edith Coleman Eckerson was an active Edwardian woman.  She was a member of the Evening Badminton Club which met every Saturday evening each spring.  On March 12, 1905 The New York Times noted that the women were preparing for a tournament the following week.

In addition to their city house the Eckersons had a country home in South Beach, Connecticut.  Nevertheless when daughter Mary Warne Eckerson married Morgan Onderdonck McMongal in June 1911, the ceremony took place in the home of her grandmother, Mrs. Benjamin Eckerson, at No. 171 East 87th Street.

The Eckerson's neighbor, Dr. Melancthon S. Ayers, had studied  at the College of Physicians and Surgeons and Long Island College Hospital, graduating in 1871.  He was 28-years-old when he married Nellie Hill on December 9, 1874.  Their time together would be short--she died less than two years later on August 12, 1876.

Ayers remained at No. 129 until 1910, when he sold it to Colonel William E. Van Wyck.  Described by The New York Times as "one of the city's leading citizens," Van Wyck was born in New York in 1845.  He had found work at the age of 15; but when rumbles of war threatened in 1860 he joined the Seventh Regiment.  He was on the front lines in 1862 and, according to The Times later, "accompanied Sherman in his march to the sea."  Following the war he remained active in the National Guard and was instrumental in quelling the Orange Riots in 1871.

Van Wyck was a partner in the paper firm of C. F. Hubbs & Co.  But it was his military and social activity for which he was best known.  He was a founder of the New York Athletic Club and was its first president.  His wide-flung memberships included the Sons of the Revolution, the New York Genealogical and Biological Society, the Hoboken Turtle, the Coney Island Jockey, and the National Arts Clubs, as well as more than a dozen other clubs and organizations.

Van Wyck's wife was the former Jennie Lessy and their movements were tracked by society columnists.  On July 19, 1914, for instance, The Times noted "Col. William E. Van Wyck and Mrs. Van Wyck of 129 West Ninety-fifth Street, who spent the early Summer at their Long Branch home, are now on a motor trip through the White Mountains."  Two weeks later The Sun reported "Col. and Mrs. William E. Van Wyck...are at The Moorings, Long Branch, N. J., for the remainder of the summer."

The couple would never visit Long Branch together again.  In May 1915 Van Wyck fell ill.  Ten days later, on June 3, he died in the 95th Street house.  In reporting his death The Sun mentioned "His family had been socially prominent for many years."

With characteristic military precision, Van Wyck had carefully laid out the details of his funeral, even describing his coffin.  His will read in part:

I order and direct that my dead body be laid out in colonel's full dress uniform and in a black merino or cloth covered coffine and silver plate handles--and name plate--to cost about $60, and laid in my own burial plot at Woodland Cemetery.

The will additionally revealed Van Wyck's distrust and disdain of lawyers.  He directed his executor "to keep my estate free from legal interference, it being the experience of the writer that an estate is often considered a legitimate prey for those who practice law without conscience."

His entire estate was left to Jennie.  He explained in the will that charitable contributions should "be made during one's lifetime."  The New-York Tribune reported "He further said that for fifty years he had assisted many of his relatives and that he had decided 'they must have no more help from my estate.'"

In October the following year the Eckersons visited friends in Summit, New Jersey.  John C. R. Eckerson died there on Saturday, October 14 at the age of 68.  The Times mentioned "He was a member of many social organizations.  He also owned a number of fast driving horses which he drove on the Speedway."

Like Van Wyck, he left his entire estate to his wife.  The New York Times noted that he "made no bequests for his son and two daughters, because they had been provided for otherwise."

The Eckerson house was sold to Kathleen O'Hara, daughter of Mayor John F. Hylan, in 1923.  When she sold it in February the following year, The New York Times noted she "has remodeled the [house] into smaller apartments with all improvements."  It was most likely at this time that the stoop was removed and the entrance lowered to the basement level.

Jennie Van Wyck died in No. 129 West 95th Street on February 9, 1926.  Her funeral was held in the house the following evening at 8:30.  The home was sold at auction in 1931.

In 1935 it was home to the Amity Club when that club took a decided change in direction.  On May 20 The Times reported "The members of the Amity Club, heretofore a social organization, decided recently to enter the political field in support of Mr. [William] Solomon and in opposition to Mr. [D. J.} Mahon."  The club was now allied with Tammany Hall.  The newspaper said "A boxing exhibition at St. Nicholas Palace Saturday night, which was attended by several thousand persons, signalized the club's entrance into politics."

In 1971 No. 129 was converted to apartments--a duplex in the basement and former parlor level, and one apartment each on the top two floors.  It was the scene of a grisly crime the following year.

A six year old boy, Chauncey Cummings, accompanied his mother on a visit to her friend here on August 6, 1972.  While the women chatted, the boy wandered into the hallway to play.  He was lured away by two 12-year-olds who senselessly tortured him.  Police said "the two suspects had beaten the boy with an electric cord and burned him with cigarettes and matches after tying him to a bed."

He was taken to the hospital in critical condition after his mother found him.  The police told reporters the motive was "thrills."

No. 129 was reconverted to a single-family home in 1975.  The abuse of its fraternal twin, including the loss of the stoop and the mutilation of the parapet, is regrettable.  Yet the handsome pair remains a striking presence on the block.

photographs by the author

The Lost Henry Remsen Mansion - Cherry & Clinton Streets

Artist Calvin Pollard recalled the Remsen Mansion in this watercolor done around 1843.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

In the first years after the Revolution, Cherry Street rivaled Broadway as the city's most fashionable residential street.  Perhaps none of its stately residences, including that of George Washington, could outdo that of Henry Remsen in terms of lavishness and proportions.

The massive Georgian style mansion which would eventually be given the address 310 Cherry Street sat on the northeast corner of Cherry and Clinton Streets.  Three stories of red brick sat upon a stone base.  The main entrance was flanked by pairs of Corinthian columns and sat directly below an elegant Palladio-style window.  Both it and the service entrance to the side were accessed by split stone staircases.

The high peaked roof, which included a triangular pediment on the Cherry Street elevation was full-height, making the mansion essentially five stories including the deep basement level.  The mansion was surrounded on three sides by gardens and outbuildings.

Hendrick Remsen was born April 5, 1736 and, according to the Year Book of the Holland Society of New-York was "a merchant of eminence in New York and a well-known Whig."  In a letter to George Clinton on February 21, 1780, Remsen explained that he had been an "importer of European Goods from 1759 to 1775 and in the West Indian Trade for 12 or 14 years before our serious troubles commenced."   He had agents in several American cities as well as in France and Holland.

Remsen's wife was the former Cornelia Dickenson.   The article added, "He lived in a large red brick house on the corner of Cherry and Clinton Streets."   The Remsen family traced their American lineage to Rem Jansen Vanderbeeck, who arrived from Westphalia in the first half of the 17th century.

The Revolution caused major upheaval both in Remsen's business and domestic lives.  Like many wealthy patriots, when the British occupied New York, he abandoned his mansion.  He took his family to Morristown, New Jersey where, according to historian Walter Barrett in his 1870 The Old Merchants of New York City, he owned saw mills and 1,500 acres of land.   Remsen's business ground to a near halt as war interrupted his ability to obtain and import goods from abroad.

The family returned to the Cherry Street house following the war, but Remsen's concern over his ability to recover was evidenced in a letter to George Washington dated May 11, 1789.  He said in part "On the return of peace I found my situation so embarrassed by the calamitous events of the War, as rendered me incapable to recommence mercantile pursuits."  But with the intervention of the Government and understanding creditors, he restored his personal wealth and the reputation of his firm.

Remsen's son, Henry, Jr., was perhaps even better known than his wealthy father.  Born in 1762 he was secretary to John Jay during his office as Secretary of Foreign Affairs, and to President Thomas Jefferson.  In 1790 he was taken as a partner in Henry Remsen & Son, and in 1793 became a teller of The United States Bank (a position more like a vice-president today).  In 1799 he entered The Manhattan Company, where he remained until 1840.

He and other wealthy New Yorkers tried to pick up the pieces of their broken institutions.  In 1880 historian Martha J. Lamb in her History of the City of New York, recalled "Business revived slowly.  As spring [1799] advanced the mercantile interests of the city were discussed with vigor, and various were the methods proposed for encouraging trade."  The "old members" of the Chamber of Commerce, "who had been exiles from the city for seven years, as well as many of those who had kept up the meetings during the war," met to reestablish the institution.  Among the wealthy merchants on April 13 to form The Chamber of Commerce of the State of New York was Henry Remsen.

Henry Remsen, Jr. as he appeared around 1795.   from the collection of the New-York Historical Socity

Hendrick Remsen had died on March 13, 1792.  Cherry Street was home to eminent patriots at the time.  At No. 5 was John Hancock, for instance, and at No. 7 lived Edward Fox, of the General Hospital Department during the war.  Cornelia died in the mansion on July 24, 1816 at the age of 72.

In 1808 Henry, Jr. married Eliza, daughter of Abraham R. De Peyster, the same year he became president of The Manhattan Bank.  The newlyweds would need the spacious Cherry Street house--they had nine children.

Walter Barrett described Henry as "as polite as a French dancing master and, with all, most scrupulously honest, in so much that all his private penny-postages he received at the bank he paid himself from his private funds."  Barrett mentioned "All the old folks may remember the immense double house, of brick walls, Remsen...occupied to the last, on the corner of Cherry and (now) Clinton streets, within 100 feet of his relative, Colonel Rutger's, private yard, at that time quite out of town."

Despite his own vast wealth, Remsen was parsimonious, a trait that extended to his banking business.  Bank clerks dealt with numerous bundles of bills, bound by a paper band held by a pin.  Barrett wrote "Remsen, in supervising the business would frequently remark, at the desk where the pins were hurriedly taken out and dropped on the floor, 'that the clerk would lose more pins than his salary would amount to.'"

Early in 1840 Remsen was nudged out of his presidency of the Manhattan Company bank by less conservative members.  On February 21 that year The Morning Herald wrote "This gentleman was highly respected, and universally esteemed;--few men have maintained the high and exalted character of Mr. R.; he is still living; and since the explosion of the company, he has seen in Wall st.--He says, that he does not understand banking as now practised."

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

Still living with his parents in the Cherry Street house was son William, who by now administered the family's extensive real estate holdings.

On February 18, 1843 Henry Remsen died after a short illness at the age of 81.  The New-York Daily Tribune announced four days later "The relations and friends of the family are respectfully invited to attend his funeral from his late residence, corner of Cherry and Clinton streets, this afternoon."

William was quick to begin selling the valuable property.  Two days after the funeral, on February 24, The Evening Post ran an advertisement for "Two valuable lots of ground on Cherry st., adjoining Henry Remsen, Esq.'s house."

William and his brothers turned their attentions eventually to public transportation.  In 1854 the Third Avenue Railroad was opened and by 1867 was deemed by The New York Herald, "this great railway."  The newspaper noted "William and Henry R. Remsen are the heaviest shareholders and own from 1,000 to 1,500 shares each; a brother of these gentlemen owns about 1,200 shares."

The Cherry Street neighborhood was, by now, engulfed by commercial buildings.  The Remsen families moved to more fashionable surroundings, Henry Rutgers Remsen living in a mansion at No. 40 Fifth Avenue by the early 1870s.   The Cherry Street house was demolished and today its site is part of the 1957 Fiorello La Guardia Houses projects.

Dry Goods, Candy and Sushi - 282 Bleecker Street

Possibly no one in the first decades of the 19th century was more influential in transforming Greenwich Village from a rural hamlet to a bustling suburb than Charles Oakley.  On October 5, 1819, for instance, he purchased 20 lots bounded by Herring, Jones and Cornelia Streets.  He paid $8,000 for the property--nearly $160,000 today.  It was merely a hint of Oakley's prolific development that would continue for decades.

Herring Street and Bleecker Street were so-named because they ran through the farms of the Herring and Bleecker families.  When they were connected around 1829, the entire length became Bleecker Street.  Oakley was erecting about a dozen houses with stores on Bleecker Street at the time.  One of them, No. 278, was completed around 1830.

The wooden structure was three stories tall and three bays wide.  A simple wooden cornice most likely capped the design.  The two floors above the shop level were originally intended as the home of the shopkeeper or a tenant family.

Oakley leased the store by 1835 to Andrew Quackenbush.  The two men had an interesting relationship in that Quackenbush had purchased a house from Oakley just steps away in 1832.  Quackenbush was gone the following year, with the dry goods store now run by Andrew Nixon.  In 1839, Charles Oakley sold the building to brothers Uriah and Henry Hendricks, who continued to rent out the store and upper rooms.

By 1848, Thomas Miller was the store's proprietor.  He lived nearby at 180 Fourth Street.  The turnover in ownership of the shop continued with Hull & Myers operating it in 1851 and Henry M. Livingston its owner the following year.  Livingston ran the store and lived upstairs at least until 1860, sharing the upper floors with tenants like John Hillery, a carpenter.

Bleecker Street was renumbered in 1859 and the wooden building got the new address of 282.  It continued to house dry goods stores.  They offered a variety of items like ready-to-wear clothing, bolts of fabric, and sundries like needles, thimbles, and small household goods.  Following Livingston, Henry B. Cowles ran his store here during the Civil War years.

After his family owned the property for three decades, Montague M. Hendricks sold No. 282 to Jacob Langstadter in June 1869 for $6,000, a little more than $110,000 today.   Born in Germany, he and his brother, Bernhard, would operate their "fancy goods" store, J. & B. Langstadter, here for years.  Fancy goods stores were slightly different from dry goods stores in that they also offered ribbons, stationery, inkstands, and such.

Both Bernhard and Jacob listed their addresses as No. 282.  Certainly Bernhard's family lived upstairs.  He and his wife, Helena (known as Helen), had five children, Clara, Ida, David, Aaron and Rosetta.  Their home was the scene of David's funeral on January 23rd, 1879.  He had died two days earlier at the age of 29.

At least some of Jacob's and Bernhard's sons entered the business.  In 1883, Aaron was working as a clerk, Benjamin was listed as "merchant," and Henry as a salesman.

Bernhard died on July 14, 1885.  Within months the Langstadter family made alterations to the building, possibly in preparation to sell.  Architect William Graul faced the building in brick and it was most likely now that the cast iron storefront and pressed metal cornice were installed.

On April 17, 1886, the building was sold, now described as a "three story frame (brick front) store and dwelling."  Executed in two separate transactions, Moses Herz and his wife, Elise, paid Helena $8,575 for her half, and Jacob Langstadter the same amount for his.  The total outlay would equal $460,000 today.

The new owners returned the upper floors to rented rooms.  By 1893, the store with its long tradition of dry goods and fancy goods shops was home to the candy store of Henry Carque, who lived next door.  He made his confections in the basement.  There were several families living above the confectionery store, including that of R. D. Burke, whose four-year-old son, Joseph, was seriously ill with influenza in January 1894.

At 3:30 on the morning on January 16, Henry Carque stood in front of his candy store chatting with Policeman Hopper and J. F. Egleston, a night watchman of a nearby factory.  Both men later recalled that Carque was not wearing an overcoat in the cold night air.

Officer Hopper recounted, "At 3:35 he entered the store and was not seen again until Burke, one of the tenants, rushed out of the house screaming fire."  Upon later questioning, Burke said he had heard an explosion in the basement and saw Carque rush out of the back door and escape over a fence.

Hopper turned in a fire alarm and rushed into the building, awakening the residents.  "The halls were filled with smoke, and there was a peculiar smell that excited his suspicion," reported The Evening World.  It added, "Many tenants in the house had narrow escapes."

Firefighters searched the rooms and found little Joseph Burke still in bed.  "The child was sick with the grip, and was carried out to neighbors," said the article.  The exposure to the January air was too much and he died the following day.  The New York Times reported, "It is claimed that had he not been carried out of the house when the fire was discovered he would have recovered."

On January 22, Henry Carque was arrested and charged with arson.  His bail, nearly $150,000 in today's dollars, reflects the severity if the charges.  Fire Marshall Mitchell pointed out in his affidavit that there was not $200 worth of inventory in the candy store, but Carque had a $3,000 insurance policy on the stock and fixtures which was due to expire two days after the explosion.

Carque's trial began on June 18 and lasted five days.  New Yorkers were doubtlessly shocked to read in the morning papers on June 23 that he "was acquitted yesterday."

Moses and Elise Herz repaired the damage and the former candy shop became home to J. Baumann's furniture store.

Among the tenants upstairs at the turn of the century was Police Sergeant James F. Thompson.  He came home for lunch on April 30, 1900.   Heading back to work, he entered the hall directly from his dining room and was surprised to see a man crouched down, peeping through his parlor door keyhole.

The surprised intruder explained, "I wanted to see if you wished to give an order for a photograph," and opened a leather case containing prints and orders for a Fourth Avenue photography studio.  Sgt. Thompson asked why, then, was he peeping through the keyhole.  He was told he just wanted to see if anyone was at home.

"Well, you have found that I am at home," said Thompson.

Identifying himself as a police officer, he checked the man's pockets and found an 18-inch-long "jimmy," used to enter locked doors.  Thompson arrested him.  The New York Times reported that the would-be burglar grumbled, "I didn't know I was going to stack up against a cop or I never would have tackled this job."

He gave his name as John Kelly, but at Police Headquarters "he was recognized as John Fogarty, alias Sullivan, who on June 7, 1895, was sentenced by Judge Cowing for attempted burglary to two years and six months in Sing Sing."

By the end of the World War I, the Bleecker Street neighborhood had filled with Italian immigrants.  The Herz family sold the 21-foot-wide building in 1922 to Giuseppe and Assunta Fiorentino who, according to The New York Herald on December 22, intended to "occupy for business."   Indeed, Assunta Fiorentino ran a hairdressing salon from the store space through 1936, when it was take over by the Trio French Bakery.

On August 19, 1943, Jane Holt, writing in The New York Times, described the bakery in vivid detail.  "Bread and rolls reign supreme in the Trio French Bakery, 282 Bleecker Street, with not a cake or pie or cookie in sight to eclipse their homely, substantial beauty.  Of European heritage, they have been the sole occupants of the shop ever since it opened seven years ago."

The huge ovens were located behind the store and every morning long "arms" of French bread, round Italian loaves and the canoe-shaped Viennese loaves moved from the back to the front.  Trio also produced crescent-shaped soft rolls "studded with crystals of pretzel salt," poppy seed rolls, and "crisp butter sticks" about six inches long.

In 1953, the bakery was purchased by Giovanni Bakery Corp.  Its owners Mario Martini and Charles Lazzaro both lived upstairs.

Artist Harold Weston and his wife, the former Faith Borton, lived here by the late 1960's.  A past president of the Federation of Modern Painters and Sculptors, his paintings were exhibited in the Phillips Gallery and other collections.  He painted the mural in the lobby of the Federal Procurement Building in Washington D.C. between 1936 and 1938.  Weston died in his apartment on April 11, 1972.

By now the brick facade had been stuccoed over and painted.  The store was home to Aphrodisia during the mid-1980's.  The spice store offered about 2,000 culinary herbs and spices sold from two-gallon apothecary jars.

In 1992, architects James Jao & Associates installed a new storefront, which fronts a sushi restaurant today.  Above, the peeling paint gives the nearly 190-year old building a rather beleaguered appearance.  Hiding behind the 1886 brick is what the Landmarks Preservation Commission said in 2010 is "one of the few surviving frame structures in the area."

Seen in 2025, the facade had been scrapped and painted.

photographs by the author

The Fennell & Pye Bldg - 188-190 Duane Street

William B. Aitken was born on December 24, 1810, the son of John and Lydia Bennett Aitken.   John had been educated at the University of Edinburgh and his family had thrived upon arriving in New York.  Young William was admitted to the Bar of New York in 1832.  Following his father's death he inherited parcels of real estate, including the two small buildings at Nos. 188 and 190 Duane Street.

No. 188 was a small, frame house which may always have had a store at street level.  In 1823 Catharine Insley's dressmaking shop was here while John I. Riker lived upstairs.  He was a "smith" who worked at No. 116 Reade Street.  No. 190 next door was a more substantial three-story brick building.  In 1829 Mary Smith ran the store at ground level and upstairs two widows, Mary Conklin and Catharine Gurnee, lived in rented rooms.

By the outbreak of Civil War the Duane Street block had become almost entirely commercialized.   The space that had housed Catharine Insley's genteel dressmaking establishment in 1823 was now home to F. W. Steuben's "liquor-store" (most often a polite term for saloon).  No. 190 now held John Reed Jr.'s Kerosene Oil Manufactory.  At a time when every house and office in New York City depended on kerosene oil lamps for illumination, Reed's business was a profitable--and highly dangerous--one.

Disaster struck around 1:00 on the afternoon of January 3, 1863 when fire broke out in the factory.  The New York Times reported "The alarm was promptly given, and the firemen were immediately on hand, but owing to the combustible nature of the stock in the building, the entire premises were soon destroyed." 

Just as the flames had broken through the roof, a tremendous explosion occurred, blowing the front windows into the street.  "In a few minutes thereafter the entire building was a sheet of flame, and it shortly after was a mass of ruins."  One of Reed's employees, Jacob Menzes, was in the basement at the time of the explosion.  Miraculously, while he was seriously injured about the face and head, he survived.

Steuben's saloon was "considerably damaged, principally on stock, to the amount of $1,000."  Reed's damages were, of course, more severe, amounting to $7,000 (more than $140,000 today).  But unlike Steuben, who had no insurance at all, he was covered for about half that amount.  The Times noted "Nos. 188 and 190 belong to Wm. B. Aitken, and are fully insured in City Companies."

Within the decade the wholesale produce district was overtaking the area.  William B. Aitken (who had by now achieved the position of Chief Clerk of the Surrogate's Court) reacted to the changes by updating the Duane Street properties.  On May 5, 1876 his architect, Theodore A. Tribit, filed plans for extending No. 190 to the east, removing that wall, and "iron columns, &c. inserted."  The plans were remarkably understated.

In fact, No. 188 was demolished and No. 190 was seamlessly doubled in size and a fourth floor added.  A simple cast iron storefront from the foundry of M. H. Howell now supported a new facade of red brick trimmed in brownstone and topped with a pressed metal modillioned cornice.  The extensive alterations cost Aitken $8,500, in the neighborhood of $200,000 today.

Initially Aitken had just one tenant in the remodeled building, Fennell & Pye.  The partnership of George Fennell and Henry B. Pye was, expectedly, produce dealers.

By the mid 1890's there were three tenants in the building, all produce commission merchants:  John C. Huser & Bros., John F. Mattfeld, and R. W. Dixon & Son.

In the 21st century, when exotic foods reach markets around the globe within hours, it can be difficult to imagine the excitement caused when tropical fruits or foods from the West or South became available to New Yorkers.  On August 13, 1895 The New York Times ran a front-page headline reading "PEACHES NOW IN MARKET."  The article's reporter went to No. 190 Duane Street to interview R. W. Dixon about the sensation.

He gushed on about the fruit saying in part, "New-York really cannot get too many first-class peaches.  We have a deep love for peaches, and we are bound to get them if such a thing is possible.  The rich class like the big, red-cheeked peaches that seem to have stored up and condensed sunshine, and it gets them by paying fancy prices.  But there are some smaller, unpretentious looking peaches that are of just as good flavor and even finer substance that the poorer classes have learned to value."

When the Aitken estate sold the building to Frederick Goldstein in April 1907, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide remarked "The property has not changed hands for over a century."

At the time of the sale the "butter and egg" merchants were elbowing their way into the produce district.  The highly perishable nature of dairy products (and the often unscrupulous nature of the dealers themselves) required vigilance on the part of government inspectors.

Frederick Goldstein inherited one butter and egg man when he bought the building.  An inspection of the facility that summer led to Louis Schuer's arrest.  The Times reported on August 13 that he was being held on $500 bail "on the charge of selling bad eggs to retailers."  The article noted "Supervising Inspector Fuller of the Board of Health is making a special effort to stop the sale of bad eggs."

At the end of World War I John C. Huser & Bros. was still in the building.  The firm shared the address with H. Hamilton, dealers in canned goods; olive oil dealer Francis J. Bigley; the Lappin Tea Co., and three "butter, cheese and egg" merchants, Solomon Goldstein & Co., M. Levine, and John H. Rusch.

While other districts like the garment, millinery, and shoe districts, for instance, moved northward during the 20th century; the butter-and-egg and the produce districts stayed in the Duane Street neighborhood for decades.  John H. Rusch was still in the building in the 1920's; and the cooperative G. L. F. Egg Marketing Service, Inc. was formed here in 1934.

While no battles were fought on U.S. soil during World War II, Americans nevertheless endured hardships, albeit decidedly less life-threatening.  Women had to do without silk stockings, and families dealt with rationing of refined sugar and wheat, for instance.  The butter and egg market was affected by the banning of butter, resulting in the invention of oleomargarine, and imported cheeses became a delicious pre-war memory.

So it is perhaps not surprising that following the war, on March 20, 1949, Jane Nickerson wrote a spread in The New York Times Sunday Magazine entitled "Latest News of Cheese."  To reintroduce readers to foreign cheeses she visited Alpert's Cheese Corner at No. 188 Duane Street, run by Phil Alpert.  The inventive cheese purveyor had come up with a clever marketing scheme.  Nickerson noted that his shop "specializes in mailing cheese (including any unheard-of-type one might mention)."

In 1960 the ground floor of No. 188-190 was converted for a luncheonette for workers in the neighborhood.   The Infinity Company, a natural foods importer, distributor and manufacturer, was started in a space upstairs in 1965.

It is difficult to see if the luncheonette was still operating from the ground floor when this photograph was taken in the 1970's.  What is clear is that the Duane Street block was still gritty and industrial.  photo by Edmund Vincent Gillon from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The Tribeca renaissance caught up with the building in 1986 when the upper floors were converted to one loft dwelling per floor.  Then in December 2001 Les Migrateurs, a modern furniture store based in Paris opened in the ground floor.  Where once workers loaded horse-drawn drays with crates of eggs, trendy New Yorkers now shopped for contemporary pieces like a $4,800 dining room table.

Les Migrateurs was replaced by Nili Lotan's clothing boutique in August 2006.  Despite the expansive show windows within the historic cast iron storefront, the building retains most of its 1876 appearance.   Still somewhat legible is Lappin Tea's painted signage from around 1918.  And if you squint and strain, you might be able to read the firm's motto "The kind of tea they use in Ireland."

photographs by the author

A Remarkable Relic - 120 West 17th Street

Following population boom of Greenwich Village the 1820's enterprising businessmen established stage routes between the hamlet and New York City to the south.  Asa Hall, however, envisioned opportunity to the north.  In his 1896 book Reminiscences of An Octogenarian of the City of New York Charles H. Haswell recalled that in 1836 Hall operated "the Greenwich lines [which] had small stages ('carry-alls' they were termed), in which passengers were transferred from Charles Street to their destination within the limit of Twenty-third Street and Seventh Avenue."  Hall's bullish confidence in the area north of 14th Street resulted in his erecting three brick-faced frame homes on West 17th Street, between Sixth and Seventh Avenues.

At just over 20 feet wide and three stories tall, the vernacular style homes at Nos. 86 through 90 were intended for middle-class families.  Hall's tenant of No. 90 had at least one servant in 1851, when she was looking for work elsewhere.  Her advertisement on August 26 read:

Wanted--By a Respectable Protestant girl, a situation as Cook or Chambermaid; can give the best of reference.  Inquire at No. 90 West Seventeenth street, in the basement.

Hall retained the houses as rental properties, advertising Nos. 90 and 92 for lease in February 1856 simply as "the three story brick houses."  Within the decade the block suffered decline.  At lease one livery stable was erected, bringing with it the objectionable odors and noises that drove many families away.

By 1862 No. 90 was being operated as a rooming house.  Among the residents was 28-year old tailor Patrick Boyle.   On the night of December 28, 1862 he and three or four friends visited a "disreputable house" on Howard Street where they were regular patrons.

One of the girls who worked there was 19-year old Mary Demarest.  While hundreds of Irish immigrant girls went into domestic work, the hard-edged Mary turned to prostitution.  For whatever reason, that night she singled out Boyle to harass.

While the Irishmen were having several drinks, Mary "commenced to annoy Boyle in various ways, and continued to do so even after he and the friends who were with him, remonstrated with her, and begged her to desist," according to The New York Times.

The situation grew more intense as Mary continued to hassle Boyle "in various ways" until he slapped her.  The teen became incensed and "aimed a violent blow" at his head which he dodged.  The tailor had had enough with the annoying woman.  The doorkeeper later testified he saw Boyle strike Mary three times, "one blow on the right side of the face, and two on the head; with the last blow she fell on her face to the floor."

Boyle strode out to continue drinking in a saloon on Grand Street.  Before long a policeman entered and informed him that he had killed Mary Demarest.  "When taken into custody, he manifested much surprise when told that the woman was dead, and made no effort whatever to escape."

The coroner deemed the cause of death "compression of the brain, the result of violence at the hands of Patrick Boyle."  Witnesses all declared that the injury was caused by Mary's head hitting the hearthstone; but Boyle was held on $2,000 bail (more than $50,000 today) awaiting a grand jury trial.

The meager financial means of the tenants of No. 90 was evidenced in an advertisement place by one of them who as looking for work on April 2, 1864.  "Wanted--By a respectable woman, to do a gentleman's or family's washing."

One of the renters the following year was operating her business from the house.  An advertisement on May 23, 1865 read "Dressmakers wanted--Also one who understands Wheeler's sewing machine."

Although the 17th Street block was less than elegant, Asa Hall had installed the latest amenities.  An ad offering "a pleasant front room, nicely furnished" in 1866 noted "gas and water."

In 1868 West 17th Street was renumbered, giving the house the new address of No. 120.  Asa Hall died in 1896 and his properties, including the three 17th Street houses, were sold at auction.  No. 120, described as a three-story tenement, was purchased by John Campbell for $15,000--about $457,000 today.  By now Sixth Avenue nearby was lined with sprawling emporiums and the elevated railroad ran up the center.  Campbell's roomers appear to have all been Black by now.

One of them found himself behind bars on December 27, 1898.  Policeman Quinn was on patrol at 39th Street and Eighth Avenue at 10:00 that night when he heard "two men loudly quarreling and also thought he heard the click of billiard balls," according to the New York Journal.   It was a Sunday evening and playing pool was, therefore, against the law.  He called another officer and the two "burst into the room, with drawn pistols, and shouted that every man was under arrest." 

Among the men arrested was "George Wharton, colored, of No. 120 West Seventeenth street," said the article.  "All of these men were locked up, though each denied that he had been playing."  Wharton was charged with "violation of the Sunday Law."

A terrifying incident occurred on September 4 the following year, when a vicious bulldog appeared outside the house.  Whether or not it belonged to a roomer was unclear; but The Sun reported "Five persons, three of them children, were bitten by a buldog [sic], which dashed out of the areaway of a house at 120 West Seventeenth street yesterday afternoon, and went on a tear west to Eighth avenue."  Cab driver John J. Murphy put an end to the mad dog's rampage by clubbing it to death.  The article noted "Nobody knew to whom the dog belonged."

A tenant who identified himself as S. M. F. in his classified advertisement in January 1901 had achieved a remarkable accomplishment.  He described himself as "Young colored man, single" and a "private dentist."  Although he promised "will furnish reference," it soon became obvious that the hard work it took to obtain his professional standing was for naught.  A subsequent advertisement read "Porter or Valet--By sober, honest, trustworthy young colored man; single.  Address S. M. F., 120 West 17th-st."

A similar ad was placed by "Dickerson" the following year.  On January 21, 1902 his advertisement read "Porter or Waiter--By respectable colored man; city or country."

In 1906 a cast iron storefront was installed in the ground floor, the first hint of changes to come.  Abraham Kadish leased the entire building in 1912 and it was probably at this time that the upper floors were converted to lofts.  In 1916 Continental Garment took space, and by 1918 the Created Embroidery Company was in the building.  That year it advertised for a "Young lady to take charge of hand embroidery department; must be able to estimate on work."

In 1921 Max Cohn and his son, Nathan, manufactured ladies dresses on the second floor.  But a tip came into police headquarters in August that year that Cohn "was making more than ladies' wearing apparel," according to The New York Times on August 21.

Detectives Guran and Mulderig went to the location on the evening of August 20.  The ground floor was home to the Midtown Lumber Company and the third floor held a tailoring shop.  There were no lights or signs of life in either of those businesses; but, according to The Times, "Mr. Cohn's skirt manufactory was brilliantly illuminated."

The street door was securely locked, so Guran climbed the fire escape and entered an open window.  The New York Herald reported "There he found a girl and three men engaged in filling and corking bottles and labeling them Gordon gin."

The two Cohns and another employee, Matthew Cerino, were filling bottles with grain alcohol while Josephine Ilardo, who worked as a button-hole maker during the day, sat pasting counterfeit labels to them.  The New York Herald reported "It took three patrol wagons to transport the grain alcohol, gin, two stills and other illicit stuff seized on the premises to the station houses."  At the station all "the four prisoners declared they did not know they were breaking the law."

Somewhat surprisingly, on August 15 all four were released by Magistrate Max S. Levine.  Despite the overwhelming evidence, Levine ruled that "the officers had no search warrant and there is no proof that there was any sale of liquor.  The thing savors of unlawful entry to me and that the officers were overzealous in their duty."

The factory space where skirts and liquor were produced were gone in 1929 when the upper floors were converted to "nonhousekeeping" apartments, two per floor.   Major change came in 1978 when the retail space was converted to a Spanish language church.  While the storefront was filled in with brick, the 1850's domestic appearance of the upper floors, including the bracketed cast metal cornice, were left intact.

Surrounded by commercial buildings, the little brick house is one of the last reminders of the early 19th century residential neighborhood.

photograph by the author

"Boys in the Band" and Missing Chandeliers--136 East 65th Street

In 1871 developer brothers George and John Ruddell completed a row of seven brownstone-faced rowhouses on the south side of East 65th Street, between Lexington and Third Avenues.  Designed by Frederick S. Barus, the 20-foot wide homes stood out from their peers with their full-height angled bays, sheathed in copper.  Three stories tall above an English basement, they featured stone stoops and handsome metal cornices.

No. 136 was purchased by real estate operator Thomas Kilpatrick as an investment property.  In April 1872 he advertised it as "one of those handsome three story high stoop stone Dwellings on Sixty-fifth street, near Lexington avenue."  Kilpatrick pointed out it contained "every modern improvement" and offered it at $1,500 "to a good tenant."  The monthly rent would equal about $2,600 per month today.

It would not be until the train tracks of Park Avenue were lowered and covered over that the blocks to the east would begin becoming truly fashionable.   That may have been reflected in Kilpatrick's advertisement in September 1875.  "The handsome three story brown stone house 136 East Sixty-fifth street will be rented low to good tenant."

But by 1907 when the house was sold to Frederick S. Lee things had changed.  Lee was a well-known doctor and a professor in Columbia University's College of Physicians and Surgeons.  Like Kilpatrick, it does not appear that he and his wife ever lived in the house; but leased it.  In 1909 David S. Myers as living here when he was appointed a Commissioner of Deeds.

The Lees did, however, like the neighborhood; for in 1912 they began construction of a double-wide mansion nearby at Nos. 125 and 127 East 65th Street.

In April 1918 Lee hired architect E. C. Dean to do $6,000 in updating.  The improvements included modern bathrooms and a new pantry and dumbwaiter.  The updating paid off and later that year the house was leased to Austen Gray, executive with John Wanamaker's, and his wife.  The now high-tone character of the block was evidenced in the single line mention in The Sun on October 19, 1919:  "Mrs. Austen Gray has returned from Newport to 136 East Sixty-fifth street."

The Grays' residency would not be especially long.  On December 30, 1919 The Sun reported that the Lees had sold the house "for occupancy at the expiration of the present lease."  The buyer was Dr. James Alexander Miller, who was most likely professionally connected with Dr. Lee.

Miller had graduated from Princeton University in 1893, then from the Collage of Physicians and Surgeons of Columbia University in 1899.   He was now Visiting Physician in charge of the Tuberculosis Service of Belleview Hospital.

Before moving his family into their new home, Miller engaged the esteemed architect James Gamble Rogers to make extensive renovations in 1922.  The stoop was removed and the entrance moved to the basement level, a few steps below the sidewalk, and the facade was veneered with red brick.  Why the brownstone was covered over is puzzling, since the modernization did not extend to the significantly Victorian copper bay.

Peggy Miller enjoyed the privileges available to the daughters of well-to-do families.  She attended the exclusive Brearley School and then went on to Bryn Mawr College for a year.  Her debutante entertainments were held in the winter of 1925-26.  Her parents announced her engagement to Daniel Allen Lindley on October 6, 1931.

In 1953 136 East 65th Street was converted to two duplex apartments--one in the basement and former parlor level, and one on the third and fourth floors.  It was not the end of socially prominent residents, however.

One of  the spaces became home to Gerald Merrick and his wife, and her two daughters from a former marriage.  As had been the case with Peggy Miller, Anne and Alice Talcott both were educated at the Brearley School.  Anne went on to Connecticut College and Alice to Smith College.  The family's country home was in Brewster, New York and it was there that the Talcott sisters were married--Anne in October 1956 and Alice in June 1958.

Somewhat surprisingly, the exterior of the house served as the outside of the apartment of Michael in the 1970 movie The Boys in the Band.

One of the party guests arrives in a scene from the 1970 film.  photo via otsoNY.com

It was not long afterward that Robert M. Pennoyer purchased the house.  A great-grandson of John Pierpont Morgan, he and his wife, Victoria Parsons Pennoyer,  had four children: Christy, Russell, Tracy and Peter.   Their country home was in Katonah, New York.

No. 136 was re-converted to a private home in 2013 by "taxi king" Evgeny (better known as Gene) Friedman and his wife, Sandra.   Friedman had amassed a fortune as the owner of the most taxi medallions in New York.   The couple decorated the 65th Street house with valuable furnishings and artwork.  But trouble was on the near horizon.

It started with domestic abuse.  In August 2015 Friedman pleaded guilty to reduced charges of harassment after allegedly "slamming Sandra into a wall," as reported in The New York Post.   Friedman was ordered to stay away from his wife, and he turned to his business partner, Michael Cohen, better known today as Donald Trump's attorney, for help.

Cohen arranged for Friedman and his dog, Harry, to move into an apartment owned by Jared and Ivanka Kushner in Trump Park Avenue, the same building where Cohen lived.

A few weeks after the incident Sandra filed for divorce.  Before leaving the 65th Street house she removed some mementos.  Friedman retaliated by filing suit.  According to journalist Rebecca Rosenberg, writing in The Post on November 2, he "says his estranged wife swiped two Baccarat crystal chandeliers worth hundreds of thousands of dollars when she moved out of the couple's $6.2 million marital home in October."

The two disputed chandeliers are visible in this photo.  photograph by Steven Hirsch, The New York Post, November 2, 2015.

With the drama past, 136 East 65th Street has returned to tranquility.  Whether the pricey chandeliers (which were in the house when the Friedman's purchased it) ever found their way home is unclear.

photographs by the author

The William W. Farmer House - 106 West 78th Street

In 1891, at a time when speculative developers were erecting long rows of houses on the Upper West Side, some nearly engulfing entire blockfronts, Eli Martin embarked on a less ambitious project--two spacious side-by-side dwellings at Nos. 106 and 108 West 78th Street.   At 24-feet wide and four stories above the basement level, they were intended for moneyed buyers.

Martin's architect, Henry L. Harris, cleverly designed the two to be pleasingly similar, but unmistakably individual.  Both wore undressed brownstone on the lower floors, and planar stone on the top two.  Shared bandcourses connected the two designs; however No. 106 was almost purely Renaissance Revival (mitigated only by the chunky brownstone blocks) and 108 much more influenced by Romanesque Revival.  Rather surprisingly, not even the pressed metal cornices were identical.

The entrance and the floor-to-ceiling parlor windows of  No. 106 were framed by Ionic pilasters that sat on paneled pedestals.  They supported heavily carved entablatures under peaked hoods.  The design was repeated on a lesser scale on the second floor.  By eliminating the rough-cut stone on the upper floors and minimizing the ornamentation, Harris lightened what could have been a visually ponderous design.

Harris managed to create unmistakably individual structures which play together nicely.

By trading a grassy areaway for a projecting, full-height angled bay, Harris added interior floor space and increased light and ventilation.

The houses were completed in 1892 and No. 106 became home to the William Wallace Farmer family.  Born on January 12, 1851, Farmer was only 17 when he married Annie Jones.  She died soon after in childbirth.  In 1881 he remarried.  His bride, Mary, was the daughter of well-known Wall Street banker, E. M. Knowles.  The couple had a daughter, Marjorie.

After graduating from the Polytechnic Institute in 1865, Farmer had gone into his father's firm, Farmer, Little & Co., manufacturers of printing type.  The year that William purchased No. 106 he became a full partner in the firm, which was renamed A. D. Farmer & Son.  The company was one of the largest type foundries in the country and had branch offices in Chicago, Detroit, Kansas City, Philadelphia and San Francisco.  William had amassed a significant personal fortune by now.

William Watson Farmer - Men of the Century, 1896 (copyright expired)

In 1897 The National Cyclopaedia of American Biography noted "His home, 106 West Seventy-eighth street, is adorned by many fine paintings by European and American artists of high repute."  Farmer's wealth was reflected in the publication's mention that "He is a lover and excellent judge of horses."    And a year earlier Men of the Century had described him as "a favorite in society, and [he] belongs to a number of social institutions.  These include the Lotos, Colonial, New York Athletic, and Riverside Yacht Clubs."

The 65th Street house was the scene of frequent entertaining.  On January 30, 1894, for instance, The New York Times reported "A brilliant musicale was held last evening in the home of Col. W. W. Farmer, 106 West Seventy-eighth Street."  Among the seven soloists was Mary Farmer.  "Mrs. Farmer has a clear, sweet soprano voice, and she had to respond to many encores," said the article, adding "After the musicale there was dancing, and later an elaborate supper was served.  The house was tastefully decorated."

The guest list that night was peppered with the names of some of Manhattan's most recognizable social players, most noticeably millionaire Jules Bache and his wife.

On January 21, 1896 The Times announced "Mr. and Mrs. W. W. Farmer...will give an elaborate dinner on Wednesday evening of next week.  The house will be decorated with roses, ferns, and potted plants.  Miss Marjorie Farmer, a pretty, petite girl of the blonde type, will assist her parents in receiving."

Marjorie's role that night was preparing her to slip into her own social role.  And that came to pass a year later, almost to the day, when she was married to Egbert B. Seaman, Jr. in the Farmer home on January 12, 1897.   The following day the New York Journal reported "Miss Marjorie Farmer was one of yesterday's pretty brides" and noted "The floral embellishment of the residence of her parents...was very handsome.  Many white and pink roses and palms were used."

Perhaps the first hint that things were not completely rosy, financially speaking, for Farmer came in the summer of 1899.  The New-York Tribune reported on July 7, "An execution for $25,665 was issued yesterday against William W. Farmer, president of the A. D. Farmer Type Founding Company."  The award, issued to Francis O. Blackwell, would amount to nearly three quarters of a million dollars today.

As was often the case, the title to the 65th Street house was in Mary's name.  It was her name, therefore, that appeared in newspapers in October 1900 when creditors began pressuring the Farmers for the $37,358 due on the house and the $598.88 in back taxes (more than $1 million today).  The house was lost in a foreclosure auction the following year.

It was purchased by John Foster Williams and his wife, L. Josephine.  Josephine became a member of the West End Woman's Republican Association, but it seems to have taken second place on her priority list to The Sunshine Society, which she had joined in 1900.

The group was formed prior to the Civil War, its purpose being "to incite its members to a performance of kind and helpful deeds and thus to bring the sunshine of happiness into the greatest possible number of hearts and homes."  While it seemed frivolous on the surface, the Society established day nurseries, fresh air homes, lunch rooms and free libraries.

Josephine joined the group with a splash.  On November 27, 1900 the New-York Tribune had reported "After observing the universal and non-sectarian spirit of the Sunshine Society, Mrs. John Foster Williams, of Manhattan, has composed the following stanza:

Bound to no party, to no sect confined;

The world our home, our brethren all mankind;

Love trust, do good, be just and kind to all.

Exalt the right, though every ism fall.

She went so far as to have a professional artist paint the poem in oil "with gold tings" and to have it framed to hang on a wall of The Happy Day House.  As her initiation fee she donated "six pairs of dainty booties in pink, blue and white for Sunshine babies."

Before long it the tables were turned and the Sunshine Society was sending gifts and cards to Josephine.  On March 4, 1903 the New-York Tribune reported "Some golden daffodils, emblems of sunshine, were taken on Monday to Mrs. John Foster Williams, No. 106 West Seventy-eighth-st., who has been in bed twenty weeks, and is still very ill.  She reports that her long, weary days have been brightened by the receipt of cheery letters from T. S. S. members in different places, even so far as the State of Washington...Although unable to write, Mrs. Williams desires to thank all who have sent sunshine into her sickroom.  These little messages have seemed to be a link with the busy world from which she is shut out."

Month after month, although "unable to write," Josephine managed to let the newspapers know of her condition and she routinely appeared in print expressing appreciating for the well wishes and flowers.

Finally, on June 26, 1903 the New-York Tribune noted "Mrs. John Foster Williams, of West Seventy-eighth-st., is seeking health in California."

While members of The Sunshine Society no doubt awaited word of Josephine's death, it was instead John who died on March 16, 1904.  The funeral for the 69-year old was held in the house the following night.  Josephine's health seems to have immediately improved.  She sold No. 106 to Samuel C. and Caroline S. Hine and began dabbling in real estate north of the city.

The Hines immediately set out to update the Victorian bathrooms, laundry and kitchen facilities.  In September 1904 Domestic Engineering reported that J. Haughey, whose office was a few blocks away at No. 490 Columbus Avenue, had been hired to install "a new plumbing system including new high-grade fixtures in the house at 106 West Seventy-eighth street for Mrs. Hines [sic]."

Caroline died on June 25, 1928.  Her funeral was held in the house two days later.   The following year saw another funeral in the house.  Francis Adams Hine died here on March 5, 1923.

By the Depression years it appears No. 106 was being operated as a rooming or boarding house.  Policeman Thomas Comiskey lived here by 1936.  The hero cop had been cited for bravery in 1934 when he captured an armed robber even after being shot in a hand-to-hand face off on Amsterdam Avenue.  In February 1936 he was shot four times in attempting to capture four hold-up men fleeing a bar on Amsterdam Avenue.

Now he faced an even graver injury.  Comiskey and his partner, William Skeats, were responding to a fire alarm on January 3, 1937, "with red headlights glowing and siren whirring," as worded by The New York Times.  The police car raced along Columbus Avenue toward the intersection of 86th Street.  "As they sped across, another car darted in front of them and the two automobiles collided."

Both cops were critically injured and had to be removed from the vehicle.  The Times reported that both Comiskey's spine and skull were possibly fractured.  Although his injuries at first seemed deadly, he survived.

As the neighborhood was rediscovered in the second half of the 20th century a renovation resulted in a duplex apartment in the basement and former parlor levels, and one apartment each on the upper floors.  Another remodeling in 1991 sandwiched a floor-through apartment on the second floor between two duplexes; and a 1994 renovation resulted in just two residences--a duplex and triplex.  On the roof there was now a "greenhouse-conservatory."

While its fraternal twin lost its stoop, most likely during its 1974 renovation, No. 106 retains most of its 1892 appearance--a time when millionaires and their wives were entertained at "elaborate" dinners and "brilliant" musicales.

photographs by the author