The Lost Manhattan Market - 34th Street and 11th Avenue

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

In 1870 there were two large markets in Manhattan--the Washington and Fulton Markets.  But they were both far downtown, inconvenient to a city migrating northward, and markedly outdated.  The Architectural Review complained in January 1870, "The city government has decidedly failed to furnish that necessary and complete convenience of supply and arrangement of supplies, that the requirements of this large population demand."  But that was about to end.

"New York is at last to have a market, which will be worthy of the commercial capital of the continent," said the journal.   A group of "enterprising gentlemen" including Paul J. Armour, William M. Johnson and J. Eugene Flandin had formed the Manhattan Building Company and were poised to erect "a magnificent structure, at the foot of Thirty-fourth street, North [Hudson] River, and comprises about eighty city lots."  The American Builders' Journal chimed in saying "No finer location could be found in this city for the purpose, as ere many years Thirty-fourth street will be the central line of the metropolis."

The massive plot stretched from Eleventh to Twelfth Avenues and between 34th and 35th Streets.  The proposed building would be the largest under one roof in America.  To facilitate shipping and receiving, a 300-foot long dock would be erected on the river.

Architect H. G. Harrison had been hired to design the gargantuan building.  The American Builders' Journal deemed his plans "certainly very grand and imposing, and admirable adapted for the purposes intended."  Constructed of Philadelphia brick with limestone trim, it would sprout ornamental iron towers 70-feet high on the corners (The Architectural Review called the style "Byzantine" and The Manufacturer and Builder deemed it "Lombard.").  The central portion on Eleventh Avenue rose three floors to accommodate offices and restaurants.  It was topped by a cast iron flèche.  There were 1,500 windows, 160 of them on 34th Street alone.  The cast iron elements were fabricated by Daniel Badger's Architectural Iron Works.  Three vast lattice-work iron arches created a cavernous interior space unbroken by a single column.

The cost of the project was estimated at $1 million--more in the neighborhood of $19.5 million today.   The New York Herald noted "On its ample floor an entire army corps could be paraded, and room left for 20,000 spectators besides."

Ground was broken on February 22, 1871 and one year later to the day the cornerstone of the "nearly completed" building was laid by Mayor Abraham Oakley Hall.   The New York Times called the ceremonies "impressive" and noted "The building was gayly decorated with flags of all nations.  About 5,000 persons were present."

The president of the company, Paul J. Armour, mentioned that "the Metropolis of the New World, preeminent in everything else, was most grossly deficient in its market facilities."  This one, he said, would be the largest in the world.

Mayor Hall noted in his address that the site was "curiously enough on the very spot laid out in 1807 by the city authorities as a proper site for a market in the distant future."  By now, according to the Oneida Circular on March 4, 1872, the cost had risen by another $500,000.

In August 1872 The Manufacturer and Builder described the nearly-completed building in superlatives.  The dock would be "one of the largest docks in the world."  The main arch, which rose to 138 above the floor inside, was "the largest now forming the covering of any structure known."  And the main entrance would be "ornamented by the largest clock in the world.  This indicator of time is already near to its completion, and is, at contract price, to cost $37,000."

Inside were 1,027 stalls--half for retail sellers and half for wholesale.  "These will be used by meat, vegetable and other produce vendors, who will be charged from $3 to $9 per week according to position and size," explained The Manufacturer and Builder.  But the vendors would enjoy a cooperative arrangement--sharing in the overall profits of the Manhattan Market.

The docks were decidedly less grand than the Market structure.  Here live cattle were unloaded to be butchered inside.  Harper's Weekly, July 1877 (copyright expired)

At the Twelfth Avenue end, close to the river, were the "mammoth fish market," the butcher stalls and the abattoir, or slaughterhouse.

New-York Tribune, November 27, 1872 (copyright expired)

Three blocks away was the Manhattan Rendering Company, on 38th Street and the river.  The stench of the dead animals and swarms of flies there worried a reporter.  He visited the Manhattan Market to investigate whether the same nuisance would happen here.  He happily reported on July 12 "At either side of the building and through the central line are drainways, through which all refuse will be carried to the river as often as any one or more or all of the 1,000 croton water hydrants are let play upon it."  It fact that butcher waste would be dumped directly into the Hudson River did not seem to concern anyone.

The Manhattan Market opened on November 11, 1872 with a "concert that drew together no less than 30,000 people," according to The New York Times.  By then the total cost--including the docks and outbuildings--had risen to $2 million--a staggering $41.4 million by today's standards.

Seven months after opening the stockholders reported "that they are quite satisfied with the progress" and said that half of the retail stands had been rented and four wholesale meat firms were in operation.  But the magnificent market had from its start a formidable enemy--Tammany Hall.  Politicians were financially embedded in what The Times called the "Washington Market Ring" and would later say they "attacked the scheme with every weapon available to men whose interests are imperiled."

On July 21, 1874 The New York Herald reported "For six months after the market was opened the business conducted within its walls gave flattering promises of the success of the institution; but from that time forward business began to fall off until the retail trade was abandoned."  The newspaper attributed the problem "to opposition of the owners off Washington Market, a bitter rivalry having existed between the two markets."  At the time of the article the Manhattan Market building was scheduled to be sold at foreclosure auction within the month.

The property which had cost millions was sold to Dr. Henry Draper for $250,000.  He turned his attention to increasing and improving the abattoir operations.  The New York Herald reported on the improved processes on July 29 the following year.

"Cattle are landed from barges at the dock, and driven through a tunnel into the market.  The advantages of this are obvious when the scene of the terror occasioned by the raid of Texan steers through our streets last summer is recalled."  The pens for the individual butchers are constructed in the strongest manner, and the appliances for preventing accidents are simply perfect."

Cattle were led through a tunnel from the barges directly into the abattoir.

The finished product was loaded directly onto the vessels from the dock.  Harper's Weekly, July 1877 (copyright expired)

In conjunction with the abattoir section was a new rendering room, "where the offal and fat are rendered immediately after the animals have been killed.  There is not the slightest oppressive odor arising from the process, as the work is done by means of air-tight vats."  Draper told reporters that he intended "to leave no stone unturned to make it the model market of the metropolis."

The Board of Health was pleased with the remodeled facility.  At a meeting in February 1876 Sanitary Superintendent Dr. Day reported "on the very admirable conditions of the immense abattoir in the western half of the Manhattan Market," according to The Medical Times & Register on February 5.  "This seems to be quite a model institution."

But while the abattoir portion of the building was going well, the market proper was still under siege from political forces.  A letter to the editor of the New York Times published on February 24 1878 suggested that the building could best be used as an armory.

In his article "A Day on the Docks" in The Century on October 1879 Charles H. Farnham wrote "The great, useless Manhattan Market was the single exception to general activity.  It was empty, quiet as a cathedral, and even more spacious.  The market-scene contained two Sisters of Charity, pacing silently over the pavement to a solitary butcher's stall."  Within the year it was closed altogether, including the slaughterhouse.

But not everyone was willing to cave into political corruption.  On March 6, 1880 Harper's Weekly reported "For some time past there has been a movement going on for the re-opening of Manhattan Market...and at length a company for this purpose has been formed under the name of the 'Metropolitan Market Company.'"   Newspapers and individual businessmen were supportive, none more so than The New York Times, which was traditionally anti-Tammany.  The newspaper laid the blame of the closing directly on Tammany leader John Kelly, "who scented the danger to the interests of the Market Ring."

The New-York Daily Tribune joined the push for re-opening, interviewing produce vendors and butchers and printing their favorable comments on May 16, 1880.  The communal efforts were successful and on August 31 The New York Times happily reported "The opening of the Manhattan Market is fixed for Tuesday, Oct. 5, but on Monday evening, Oct. 4, the building will be illuminated and thrown open to the public for inspection."

Tammany Hall, unaccustomed to defeat, was not a foe to be casually dismissed.  At midnight on Wednesday, September 8 fire broke out in the building.  It was not completely extinguished before Thursday noon.  "When the engines were taken away they left behind them two blocks of ruins--one block of ashes and twisted beams and tottering walls representing the finest market-house in America, and one of the handsomest and most prominent public buildings in this City," said The Times.  The new owners surrendered, telling reporters on September 21 they had "decided to dissolve the company, wind up its financial affairs as soon as possible and allow the property to revert to its former owners."

It was, however, not the last breath for the structure.  On April 30, 1881 The American Architect and Building News reported simply "Manhattan Market is to be rebuilt."  Three days earlier the New-York Central and Hudson River Railroad had filed plans "for the erection of 26 buildings on the ground former occupied by the Manhattan Market."  The New York Times reported "They are to be used for market purposes, will be built of brick and stone, and be two stories high."  Architect Joseph Richardson drew up the designs, utilizing as much of the surviving facade as possible.  The reconstruction cost the equivalent of $2.85 million today.

While the main structure was gutted, Richardson was able to salvage much of the 11th Avenue facade. Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly, April 1883 (copyright expired) 

Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly commented on the rebuilding, saying "The immense arching roof has disappeared, and along either side of the block...extends a roof of lofty, roomy stores for the storage of hay, and produce of all sorts."   The Manhattan Hay and Produce Exchange moved in, along with meat vendors, including the Manhattan Beef Company, the Chicago Beef Company, George Hotonkiss & Co., and Armour & Co.

The railroad's interest in the building was its location--perfectly situated on the Hudson River for the receipt, storage and shipment of freight.  Tracks were laid on the river side and loading platforms formed a U around the western portion of the building.

Once a year a highly-anticipated auction of unclaimed freight was held here.  On March 6, 1884 The New York Times reported "Eighty-four men, eleven women, and a precocious boy shouted at a voluble auctioneer for five hours, yesterday, in the Manhattan Market."  Among the successful bidders was a restaurant owner who purchased a "mammoth signboard for 25 cents," a sailor who bought a crate of plug tobacco for 70 cents, and a woman who picked up an "old-fashioned piano" for $10.

The renovated building continued to house both the railroad and market vendors.  In 1904 the Butchers' Advocate announced that "Plans have been filed...by C. Wellesley Smith, architect of the New York Central Railroad Company, for improvements to be made to the Manhattan Market."  The article noted "It is to be equipped with two new storage coolers, new fronts and put into decidedly more modern shape."  Also included in the renovations were new stairs and elevator, and insulated floors.

The Edwardian modernization did away with the cast iron towers. West Side Studies, 1914 (copyright expired) 

The structure that stubbornly resisted eradication survived for three more decades.  A portion was demolished in 1932 and the last remnants of what had been the most magnificent market building in the world were razed in 1938.

The Manhattan Market looked rather beleaguered on May 17, 1927.  from the collection of the New York Public Library 

Part of the structure was already being demolished on February 7, 1932.   from the collection of the New York Public Library 

Its site today is occupied by another gargantuan structure, the Jacob K. Javits Convention Center.

photo by Javitscenter

Soon to be Lost - The Rohe & Brothers Building, 527-531 West 36th Street

photograph by Renee Stanley

In 1872 the massive Manhattan Market opened on New York's West Side.  Engulfing the block between Eleventh and Twelfth Avenues, from 34th and 35th Streets, it was the largest market building in the world--offering fresh meats (a butchery was on site), fish and produce.  It was a welcomed neighbor for Rohe & Brother, which had erected its sprawling provision packing house and lard refinery at No. 533 through 541 West 36th Street two years earlier.  Simultaneously an architecturally matching warehouse and stables building had been erected on West 35th Street.

Although a block apart, the main plant (center) and the warehouse (left) were designed to match. from the collection of the Library of Congress

In 1897 The National Provisioner noted that the packing and refinery property "has been added to a number of times...The building is a substantial one of brick, and extends from 533-543 West Thirty-sixth street, to 534-540 West Thirty-seventh street.  The abattoir [butchery] is located at the foot of Fortieth Street, North River, and occupies four lots."  Charles Rohe had died in 1888 and his son, Charles, Jr., became a member of the firm.  Charles Sr.'s other son, Julius, by now supervised the packing house and the manufacturing of goods.  Florian's sons, Albert and Oswald Rohe, worked in the store and main office.

Florian Rohe as he appeared in 1897.  The National Provisioner, January 30, 1897 (copyright expired)

The National Provisioner noted that "the secret of the success of Rohe & Bro. is the splendid business ability which characterizes its movements and the bond of fraternity which exists between employees and employers."  The Rohes recognized the importance of good employee relations and a contented staff.   A separate article in the journal reported on the 11th annual employee ball.  Many, if not most, of the factory workers were German immigrants and the event was a brilliant change to their day-to-day lives.  "The entire office staff of the house of Rohe & Bro., from the office boy to their traveler and salesman, was present, while the large force of employees, numbering many hundreds, together with their wives and sweethearts, were delighted participants in the night's proceedings, all actuated by a loyal regard for the interests of the firm."

On January 19, 1898, The Butchers' Advocate and Market Journal reported that year's ball, held in the Lexington Avenue Opera House.  "When the orchestra, led by Professor Rode, started the grand march, about 300 couples were on the floor, and these quickly fell in behind Mr. Albert Rohe and wife, who led the army of gay marchers through a series of evolutions more beautiful than any ever seen before in this city."

Two months later, on March 5, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that George D. Bogert had sold the "old buildings" at Nos. 527 through 531 West 36th Street to Rohe & Brother for $24,750; just under $860,000 today.  The property abutted the main lard refinery and packing plant and The New York Times noted "the buyer will erect a factory on the site."

That would not happen, however, until 1902.  On March 29 that year The National Provisioner reported "Rohe & Brother now have their specifications in for their new packing house at 527-531 West 36th Street."  The firm had hired the architectural firm of Werner & Windolph to design the structure, which was projected to cost about $1.8 million in today's money.

Somewhat surprising was the architectural style of the new two-story addition.  It may have been that Charles Rohe (his uncle, Florian, was deceased by now) directed Werner & Windolph to match the old factory; or perhaps the architects themselves chose to meld the two.  Either way, the design, out of style for years, seamlessly carried on the design of the 1870 Rohe & Brother building.  Only the delicate corbel table that ran below the cornice broke ranks with the original structure.

Upon the building's completion the Rohes incorporated "the packinghouse firm of Rohe & Brothers," as reported in Industrial Refrigeration in April 1903.  The article mentioned "The company will do a general meat packing business."  It was an interesting and unusual move.  By 1908 there were three corporation names.  Charles was listed as head of Rohe & Brother;  Albert as head of Rohe Bros.; and William of Rohe & Bro.  All three, legally separate firms, were listed as "large refiners and provisions."

The sons of the firm's founders never abandoned its interest in employee contentedness.  On June 29, 1904 The Butchers' Advocate and Market Journal reported on the employee summer outing at Bachmann's Pavilion on Staten Island.  "How those Rohe & Brothers' employees did enjoy themselves!  They danced and bowled and ran races and absorbed the product of Mr. Bachmann with a strenuousness that would make a lazy man tired just to look at."

The two-story building at Nos. 527-531 held the company's offices.  Working past nightfall could be risky, given the sketchy Hell's Kitchen location and that threat came to pass on the night of January 22, 1913.  The Elmira Star-Gazette reported "Five men dashed up to Rohe & Brothers' wholesale meats, provisions and oils plant at 527-531 West 36th street, between Tenth and Eleventh avenues, last night in a taxicab and at the point of revolvers held back two inside and two outside employees of the firm."  The Morning Call of Patterson, New Jersey entitled its article "Wild West Game in New York" and began "The west side of Manhattan, where automobile holdups and robberies are not by any means unknown, experienced last night its most spectacular Wild West holdup and robbery about 7:30 o'clock."

Charles Rohe, Jr. was the principal of the firm following Florian Rohe's death. Empire State Notables, 1914 (copyright expired) 

While the employees were held at gunpoint, one of the robbers jumped over the wire cashier's cage and snatched up $700 in cash, a considerable $18,300 today.  The gang escape in the waiting taxicab and although the four employees rushed out in pursuit, they were unable to get the license plate number in the darkness.  The Elmira Star-Gazette said "None of the employees could give much of a description of the robbers, further than that all were 'tough looking,' and all wore caps."

In 1914 Rohe & Brother was, according to Chicago's The Day Book, the "largest New York provision packer."  The firm was, for instance, the major United States exporter of lard to Venezuela.  

In 1930 the Rohes sold off all the firm's property in the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood except for Nos. 527-531 West 36th Street.  The Sun explained on May 6 that year that the building was still used as Rohe & Brother's executive offices.  But that would not last long, either.

Architect William H. Fuhrer renovated the building in 1936 for the bottling plant of milk dealer Hershey Farms, Inc.   It was run by Max Doner, who chose not to use union employees for its delivery drivers.  It was a daring decision at a time when unions used strong-arm tactics to force businesses to comply with their demands.

A 1940 tax photograph reveals the ground floor changes for Hersey Farms, including an architecturally disparate pedimented entrance.  The main Rohe & Brother plant has been demolished.  photo via NYC Department of Records & Information Services.

On March 19, 1942 nine labor leaders, involved with the International Brotherhood of Teamsters, Chauffeurs, Warehousemen & Helpers of America, Local 445, were indicted on extortion.   The New York State prosecutor charged that between December 1935 and November 1940 the defendants "feloniously, wrongfully, willfully and extorsively obtained the sum of $7,125.00" from Max Doner "by the wrongful use of force and fear induced by threats" to injure both him personally and the property of Hershey Farms, and to induce strikes.

Hershey Farms remained here until 1959 when the building was once again renovated, this time for a storage warehouse.  In 1970 it was converted for use by Scheuman Lumber.   A later occupant was Steven & Francine's Complete Automotive Repair Inc. who shared the building with its owner, the Convention Center Hardware & Supplies, LLC. 

By 2012 the once gritty district had been discovered by developers and the upscale Hudson Yards project, formerly unthinkable, was on the table.   The old Rohe & Brother  building sat within the four-acre Hudson Park and Boulevard project--Phase II of the larger Hudson Yards development.

The buildings at the right of this photo have all been demolished, stranding the Rohe & Brothers building as in a wasteland.  photo via Commercial Observer, November 2012.

Faced with eventual eminent domain Convention Center Hardware and Supplies placed it on the market in November 2012 for $10 million.

Any architectural historian who might pass the vacant and boarded up building today would date its construction at around 1870; not knowing that its anachronistic design was based on its 32-year old next-door neighbor.  But they would have to be quick.  The unlikely survivor has a short life expectancy.

many thanks to Renee Stanley for prompting this post

Stanford White's 1904 IRT Powerhouse 59th St and 11th Ave

photo by Jim Henderson

In 1900 August Belmont, Jr. and Andrew Onderdonk embarked on a massive project that would change the lives of New Yorkers forever.  Their Rapid Transit Construction Company (reorganized as the Interborough Rapid Transit Company in May 1902) obtained the rights to build an underground railroad system—Manhattan’s first subway.

The gargantuan undertaking entailed more than the blasting of tons of bedrock, the laying of track, and construction of underground stations.  The system would require massive amounts of electricity to power the trains. 

The neighborhood selected for the IRT’s power plant was San Juan Hill—roughly encompassing 59^th Street to 65^th, from Amsterdam to 11^th Avenue.  While New York’s other grittiest neighborhoods—Hell’s Kitchen immediately to the south, Mulberry Bend and Five Points—were made up of a mix of ethnicities, San Juan Hill’s residents were almost exclusively black.    It was a district of gang violence, bloodshed, poverty and hopelessness.

The City Beautiful Movement, sparked about a decade earlier, held that monumental, inspiring structures promoted civic pride, morality and social order.  The theory was that by surrounding citizens with noble architecture, they would respond by behaving civilly.   The IRT set out to improve San Juan Hill with a noble edifice in the form of its powerhouse.

On September 18, 1901 The Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide commented on the prospect.  “It need only be remarked that the location of the power-house in that vicinity will benefit the neighborhood, both by creating a large demand for labor, and by the tendency in improvement which an important public work always bestows upon its surroundings...It is stated that the building to be erected will not only be a useful, but an ornamental structure.”

Indeed, the Interborough Rapid Transit included in the building contract “All parts of the structure, where exposed to public sight, shall, therefore, be designed, constructed and maintained with a view to the beauty of their appearance, as well as to their efficiency.”

The IRT had bought up the entire block of land between 58^th and 59^th Streets, and between 11^th and 12^th Avenues.  On the property were the sprawling Eastman & Co. slaughterhouses.  The firm was delicately described by Butcher’s Advocate as “the largest abattoir in this city.”

On May 31, 1902 it was announced that “The Eastman buildings, occupying the block on 11^th av. between 58^th and 59^th sts, and extending to the Hudson River, are being torn down to make way for the new power-house.”   That same month the cornerstone was laid for the white marble New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue.  One of the most iconic examples of City Beautiful structures in Manhattan, its architects, Carrere & Hastings, were probably considered for the powerhouse design.  But the IRT choose the equally-prominent but less obvious firm of  McKim, Mead & White.

It was Stanford White who would design the structure.  His Madison Square Garden, completed two years earlier, was an architectural tour de force and he approached the industrial powerhouse project with the same gusto.   His Beaux Arts design included pilasters banded by elaborate terra cotta, rows of grand arched openings (topped with wreaths on the 11^th Avenue side), and eagles perching within the keystones.

The construction was repeatedly interrupted by labor strikes which, in turn, delayed the opening of the subway system.   On January 2, 1904 The Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide reported that “The easterly end is enclosed but the westerly half is still open, the structural steel-work there being underway.”  (The publication got the architect’s name wrong, naming S. L. F. Deyo instead of White.)

The powerhouse was nearing completion when the Interborough Rapid Transit Company released this shot in 1904 -- from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult&VBID=24UAYW2TXNIV&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=894

By February 18, 1904 The New York Times was becoming frustrated.  In announcing yet another delay in the opening, it advised its readers “The only advice which this statement suggests is, Do the best you can.  Every day of delay in opening this great public work to the traffic for which it is designed involves inconveniences to multitudes of people—not merely to those who will habitually use it, but to an equal number of those who will continue to use the now congested lines, surface and elevated."

Finally, eight months later on October 27 the power plant’s massive equipment—“twelve 7,500 to 12,000 horse-power engines, twelve generators and seventy-two 1,200 horse-power boilers”—came to life and New York’s first subway system was opened.

Having complained for months about construction delays, The New York Times now took the time to consider Stanford White’s completed structure.  “The Interborough management is entitled to a compliment for the civic spirit shown in adopting a design for the power house which makes it an ornament to the neighborhood in which it is placed.  By reason of the attention given to the chaste and admirable scheme of decoration and the building of its stacks of the same kind of bricks employed in its facades, the necessarily large cost of the plant was increased some $55,000.  It cannot be doubted, however, that this liberality was repaid.  The building is an ornament to the west side and enhances rather than diminishes the value of the surrounding property.  But for its stacks, it might suggest an art museum or a public library rather than a power house.”

Eagles appear perched on the keystones and in the capitals of the banded pilasters -- photo by the author

In the souvenir dedication pamphlet handed out at the opening of the system, the IRT congratulated itself on the handsome building.  “Several plans were taken up looking to the construction of a power house of massive and simple design, but, it was finally decided to adopt an ornate style of treatment by which the structure would be rendered architecturally attractive and in harmony with the recent tendencies of municipal and city improvements from an architectural standpoint.”

The booklet noted that “At the initial stage of the power house design Mr. Stanford White, of the firm of McKim, Mead & White, of New York, volunteered his services to the company as an adviser on the matter of the design of the facework.”   White’s volunteering did not preclude his acceptance of a $3,500 flat fee, however.

The plant was powered by burning coal.  Edward J. Berwind was the largest holder of bituminous coal in the country, and possibly the world.  The sole supplier of coal to the United States Navy and several railroads, he added the IRT’s order of 250,000 tons of coal a year to his list of contracts.

The reliable routine of coal deliveries from the Berwind-White Coal Company, in the IRT’s mind at least, precluded the necessity of vast reserve supplies.   Although the 59^th Street power house had a reserve bunker capable of holding 7,000 tons, it sat empty.  But America’s entry into World War I would dramatically prove the company’s folly.

A 1904 postcard depicted the massive generators equipment.

The Government intercepted Berwind coal shipments and redirected them for use in the U.S. fleet of battleships.   On August 23, 1917 the coal at the power house began running out.  “For two days the fires at the Fifty-ninth Street power house had been fed from a dangerously small coal pile,” said The New York Times on August 26.   Finally, at 1:45 on the afternoon of the 25^th the fuel was exhausted.

“Superintendent Merritt at once gave the order halting the trains,” reported the newspaper.”  At 1:50 customers were denied entrance to the platforms.  “After that subway trains rolled slowly into stations, where their crews were informed that the power was to be off for an indefinite time.”

Newspapers were outraged.  They reported on the thousands of straphangers stranded with no warning.   The following day an investigation by the Public Service Commission was begun, resulting in Acting Chairman William Hayward ordering the IRT to fill the reserve bunkers.  He was infuriated that “the Interborough had been operating on a hand-to-mouth basis.”

The great smokestacks atop the 59^th Street powerhouse began once again belching black bituminous coal smoke.    But the solution to one problem became a problem in itself.   In 1947 civic and business groups launched an initiative to clear air pollution.  In reporting on a January 8 meeting The New York Times said the soot and smoke was caused in part by the improper burning of soft coal, “a major contributor to the quantity of soot in the city.”

“At the Board o Transportation it was said that extensive rehabilitation of the powerhouse at the Hudson River and Fifty-ninth Street would remove on the of the city’s soot spots.”

But there would be no solution.  Although engineers spent $20,000 in rehabilitation work, by 1954 it was obvious that the outdated equipment would continue to pose a problem.   On September 17 Dr. Leonard Greenburg, Commission of the Department of Air Pollution Control said “The darn thing’s no good and won’t be any good until the city has spent millions more for new boilers and other equipment.”

In 1959 the ownership of the powerhouse passed to ConEdison.  A complete modernization of the equipment resulted in the old steam engines being dismantled, installation of new and efficient boilers and, by 1968, the complete conversion from coal to gas and oil.  But the firm’s business-only approach to the building left no place for history or architecture.

The first of Stanford White’s elements to go was the elaborate terra cotta cornice, ripped down in 1968.  Around the same time openings were punched in the façade, most likely in conjunction with the interior upgrades.  One by one the brick smokestacks—which had cost the IRT $55,000 in 1904 (roughly $1.5 million today)--began coming down.

 

When the Historic American Buildings Survey took shot photograph in the 1970s, the cornice and five of the smokestacks were already gone -- from the collection of the Library of Congress

Eventually ConEdison ceased producing electricity in the 59^th Street powerhouse; using it instead for steam production.  However a 2007 study indicated that the plant produced only about 10% of ConEdison’s system requirements.

In 1979 the powerhouse was considered for landmark designation, but the effort was blocked by ConEdison.  The building came up for consideration again in 1990 with the same results.   In 2007 the Hudson River Powerhouse Group was formed to save the threatened building and repurpose it as a museum or art gallery, event and performance space, or even a massive indoor market.  

A flat scar replaces White's cornice, stretching the full length of the block.  photo by the author

In April 2009 the group filed a third request for landmark consideration, but to date the Landmarks Preservation Commission has not issued a decision.   In the meantime there is nothing to stop ConEdison from further altering the unique "ornament to the neighborhood."

Stanford White’s wonderfully monumental industrial building survives mostly intact despite the abuse.  Yet it appears that only intervention in the form of landmark designation will ultimately save it.