The Lost Prisco State Bank - 73 Mulberry Street

 

photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Born in Italy in 1876, Raffaele Prisco arrived in New York City in 1901, "a penniless immigrant," as recalled by The New York Times decades later.  He and his wife had three sons, Henry, George W., and Joseph.

Prisco found success in his new homeland and on July 13, 1914 he founded the Prisco Bank, a private institution.  His work within the Italian immigrant community had led the Government of Italy to make him a Chevalier of the Crown of Italy and he proudly signed the state's paperwork, "C. R. Prisco," or Chevalier Rafaele Prisco.  George W. and Joseph W. Prisco became vice-presidents of the Prisco Bank, while Henry pursued a law career.

Prisco gained additional popularity within the community by conspicuous acts.  That was the case on November 4, 1926 when he "created a small riot in Mulberry Street by throwing handfuls of new dimes to hundreds of children who had gathered in the street outside his bank," reported The New York Times.  The article said it was Prisco's way of celebrating Alfred E. Smith's re-election as Governor.

In the meantime, in their private lives Prisco and his sons exhibited much less attractive attributes.  Raffaele was closely allied to Tammany Hall and became a close ally of Benito Mussolini.  It was George, however, who first showed a dark side.  In 1918 he was tried twice for assaulting a 16-year-old girl and acquitted both times.  Her mother, Elizabeth Schroeder, won a $5,132.10 decision in a civil suit two years later.  (It was a major win for the girl, equal to more than $82,000 today.)

George married his wife, Grace, on June 2, 1920.  The bride quickly discovered that she was in an abusive relationship.  Charging "cruel and inhuman treatment," she filed for separation  seven months later, on January 25, 1921.  She told the judge in part:

I was compelled to wear two old skirts previously worn by my mother-in-law.  I had to wear my husband's socks.  I had no coat, so I wore one given to me by my mother-in-law.  It was thirteen years old.

My husband left me alone at night to take other girls on motor trips.  He refused to take me with him to Cuba when he went on November 20, 1920.  He ordered me not to laugh.  He refused to speak English in my presence.  

George, additionally, told Grace that he had a girlfriend and once woke her up simply to tell her that he was in love with that woman.

Joseph Prisco was in the news three months later.  He and his chauffeur, James Whitcroft, offered a ride to two school teachers, Marjorie Foster and Leonore Nornelle.  The women testified that Whitcroft drove them "to a lonely neighborhood in Flatlands" and the two men made physical advances.  "The young women jumped out of the auto," reported The Evening World on April 27, 1921.  Prisco and Whitcroft were arrested.  "Prisco put up bail for himself and the chauffeur," said the article.

In 1923, Raffaele Prisco commissioned the architectural firm of Koch & Wagner to design an impressive bank building at 73 Mulberry Street.  Costing $40,000 to erect (about $753,000 in 2026 terms), the marble-faced, neo-Classical-style edifice  was completed in 1924.  It featured a bronze entranceway within a column-flanked arch that echoed Classical Roman triumphal arches.  (The building was strikingly similar to C. P. H. Gilbert's Italian Savings Bank on East 116th Street, erected the previous year.)

Koch & Wagner's design was remarkably similar to C.P.H. Gilbert's Italian Savings Bank (above), erected a year earlier.  photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

On February 20, 1924, The New York Times reported on the bank's formal opening.  "Raffaele Prisco escorted [Police] Commissioner Richard E. Enright and the other newly elected directors through the premises," said the article.

Suspiciously, the day after the Prisco Bank building opened, "a rumor whispered over the telephone," as reported by The New York Times, caused a run on the Italian Savings Bank on East 116th Street.  "Throughout the afternoon the bank officials were kept busy explaining that the bank was solvent and that there was no reason for the report of failure," said the article.  The panicked depositors withdrew their savings and rushed downtown to 73 Mulberry Street.

The New York Times reported on February 22, "police of the Oak Street Station were called to restrain would-be depositors who wanted to put their money in the Prisco Bank...About 2,000 depositors were added to the bank's clients yesterday.  Many were peddlers.  The deposits ranged from $50 to $1,000."  

The article noted, "The bank is soon to be organized as a State bank."  That took place in August 1924 and bronze letters announcing "Prisco State Bank" were installed under the "Prisco Bank" name carved into the marble parapet.

On June 14, 1925, Raffaele Prisco sailed to Italy, "to establish a branch bank  in Naples," said The New York Times.  His wife and son George accompanied him on the voyage.  Standing on the pier to send them off was a group of officials that included Richard Enright, Congressman Fiorello La Guardia, and at least two judges, Rueben Haskell and John P. Cohalan.

The article mentioned, "Mr. Prisco expects to meet Premier Mussolini, whom he has known for many years," adding, "He plans to erect a monument at Giuseppe, his native village, near Naples, to the soldiers who died in the war."

Workers clean Mulberry Street in front of the bank in 1927.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

George Prisco's disturbing treatment of his first wife paled in comparison to the abuse his second wife, Marie, suffered.  George married the 20-year-old in October 1925.  Three months later, at 2:00 on the morning of November 10, Prisco telephoned the night clerk of the Hotel St. George in Brooklyn, "asking him to send a physician to Room 593, where his wife had been injured in an accident."  The house physician rushed up to find Marie bleeding from a gunshot in the abdomen.

A terrified Marie told police that George had been in the bathroom and his pistol was on the dresser.  She said, "in moving it to one side it had slipped to the floor and gone off."  It was not long before officials debunked the couple's story.  Three weeks later, District Attorney Charles J. Dodd asserted that medical examinations proved that the injury "could not have been self-inflicted and that Mrs. Prisco's dress was scorched, indicating that the pistol must have been fired at close range."

George Prisco had disappeared and the family "professed ignorance" as to his whereabouts, reported The New York Times on November 17.  Marie Prisco told reporters, "I'm so sorry I made the mistake of marrying him.  He's not worth talking about."

On August 28, 1931, Superintendent of Banks Joseph A. Broderick closed the Prisco State Bank upon the discovery of "embezzlements totaling about $130,000," reported The New York Times.  The defalcation would turn out to be slightly more.

Joseph W. Prisco fled Manhattan.  He was arrested in Ocean Grove, New Jersey on August 7.  The New York Times reported that he faced "three indictments [that] accuse him of taking $133,000."  Raffaele Prisco had already been arrested for the embezzlement and "in connection with the disappearance of $17,000 in Italian Government bonds placed in the bank for safe-keeping."  Little by little, additional fraudulent dealings and missing funds were discovered by investigators.

Push cart vendors lined the curb in front of the bank.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

On August 3, 1931, a reader of the Daily Worker vented his wrath in a letter to the editor.  It started saying, "Just a few lines to expose the capitalist crooks."  He noted, "The majority of the poorest Italian people had money in this bank" and went on to say, in part:

Three months ago a friend of mine sent $29 to his sick father in Tauroso, Italy, through this bank, but no money has been received as yet.  A month after the depositing of this money in the Prisco Bank, my friend went to the bank to protest against the money not being forwarded.  The officials of the bank told my friend that a mistake had been made, but that the money would be sent at once by telegram.  Three months have passed now an no money has been received by the sick father.  How many people have lost their money in the same way would be hard to say, but we can safely say that there have been many.

On February 17, 1932, Raffaele Prisco was sentenced to no less than three years in the penitentiary and Joseph W. Prisco to up to five years.  Henry Prisco was in the courtroom during the sentencing.  He stood up, pointed toward a group of lawyers standing near the judge and blurted, "I'll get you fellows!"  As Henry was being hustled out of the courtroom, he turned to his brother's and father's attorney, Caesar B. F. Barra, and shouted, "I'll get you, too, Barra!"

The marble bank building sat vacant for another eight years.  It was demolished in 1940--just 16 years after opening--to be replaced by a two-story brick store-and-apartment building.

photograph via traveladvisor.com

James E. Ware's 1884 67 and 69 Eighth Avenue

 

photograph by Carole Teller

In 1883, developer Pierson S. Halstead demolished the two vintage buildings at 67 and 69 Eighth Avenue, just south of West 14th Street, and hired architect James E. Ware to replace them with two store-and-tenement buildings.  Completed in 1884, they struggled with an architectural dual personality.  Above the residential entrances, flanked by stores, were stone entablatures ornately carved with Renaissance Revival designs.  The style reappeared on the top floor where shallow piers capped with Doric capitals separated the openings.  But sandwiched between, the three-story midsection was purely neo-Grec in style.  Faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone, the windows wore hefty stone lintels capped with molded cornices.

While most tenants were respectable--like William H. Broderick, who lived in No. 67 and was a commissioner of deeds, similar to a notary public--others found themselves in trouble with the police.  

James F. Hyde, who also lived in No. 67, was a "ticket speculator" (known today as a ticket scalper).  He was working the crowd outside the Fourteenth Street Theatre on the night of November 24, 1887 when another speculator, David Stack, showed up.  Infuriated, Hyde insisted that the interloper leave.  The Sun reported, "They clinched, and Hyde, it is said, struck Stack over the head with the butt end of a revolver after Stack had bit his right thumb."  Neither man would sell any more tickets that night.  They were both arrested.

Hyde was assuredly familiar with another resident of 67 Eighth Avenue.  Martin W. Hanley, who lived there with his family at the time of the affray, was the manager of Harrigan's Park Theatre.

Living next door as early as 1891 was aspiring politician Charles Henry Turner.  Born in 1861, he attended Columbia College from 1886 to 1888.  He went into the ice business while campaigning for State Senate in 1888.  According to The New York Times, he "made speeches from the tailboard of an ice cart."  The newspaper said he would become "known throughout the country as 'Turner, the Ice Man.'"

In 1889, after Democratic U.S. Senator Frank T. Fitzgerald stepped down, Turner was elected to fill his place.  He served from December 9, 1889 to March 3, 1891, retaining the lease to his Eighth Avenue apartment.

Charles Henry Turner, Once a Week newspaper 1890 (copyright expired)

Turner hosted a political meeting in his apartment on February 9, 1891.  The New York Herald said, "The Executive Committee of the County Democracy Organization of the Ninth Assembly district met last night at No. 69 Eighth avenue to decide upon the question of a union with the rival New York democracy."

At the end of his Senate term, in March 1891, Turner was appointed Doorkeeper of the United States House of Representatives.  By the end of the year, it had become apparent that keeping the New York City residence was unworkable.  On December 11, 1891, The Evening World said, "Doorkeeper Turner at his home, 69 Eighth avenue...said that he simply came home to arrange for the removal of his family to Washington."

Burns's Undertaking occupied one of the two shop spaces in 69 Eighth Avenue by 1898.  It was taken over by Richard J. Delaney at the turn of the century.

The Xavier, May 1904 (copyright expired)

On the night of November 20, 1910, Richard J. Delaney was riding in the front seat of his hearse and John H. Koenig was driving.  The hearse struck 12-year-old Genni Damborelli at Eighth Avenue and 16th Street.  The New York Times reported, "The boy had his right eye injured and suffered some contusions."  The article said, "The chauffeur was able to stop before the boy was run over."

Delaney put the boy into the hearse and he was taken to New York Hospital.  There doctors diagnosed the boy's eye injury as serious and advised Delaney to take him to the New York Eye and Ear Hospital on Second Avenue.  The New York Times reported, "After the boy's eye was dressed, he was put in the hearse again, while Mr. Delaney went to the West Twentieth Street Station to report the accident."

At the station house, it was discovered that John Koenig had been driving with a New Jersey license and he was detained.  Richard Delaney now took the reins of the hearse and took Genni Damborelli home.  The Times titled its article, "Boy Spends a Happy Hour in the Vehicle Which Ran Him Down," and said he was "apparently enjoying himself."

The Renaissance Revival carvings above the entrances were intact as late as 1940.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Richard J. Delaney sometimes handled the funerals of notable New Yorkers.  On August 4, 1911, The New York Times reported on the funeral of John B. McGoldrick, "for thirteen years Secretary to Richard Crocker, and for a short time Secretary of the Tammany General Committee."  And on the evening of May 17, 1916, the funeral of David Healy, "one of the oldest and most esteemed members of the New York Press Club," was held here.  

Delaney handled a sensitive situation in March 1921.  The bodies of Willis McCurdy, personnel manager of the American Surety Company, and his "young woman secretary, Alice Snowden," as described by the New-York Tribune, were discovered in Central Park.  The murder-suicide strongly suggested an extra-marital affair.  On March 10, the New-York Tribune reported, "The home of the McCurdys [in Astoria] remained closed all yesterday."  McCurdy's wife had taken their daughter away from the city and, apparently, wanted nothing to do with a funeral nor press attention.  McCurdy's brother, said the article, "placed the remains in charge of R. Delaney, an undertaker, of 69 Eighth Avenue, with instructions for shipment to the family home in Philadelphia."

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The Lenox Laundry occupied one of the store spaces in 67 Eighth Avenue as early as 1908.  That year Charles Goldstein, who lived at 318 West 14th Street and was studying dentistry, began sending his linen to the shop.  In February 1909, nine-year-old Edna Carroll, the daughter of the laundry's owner, was watching a Salvation Army "street meeting" when Goldstein approached her.  The Evening World reported, "He persuaded her to come to his room for a letter he said he wanted delivered and promised to give her 10 cents for carrying it."

Once there, Goldstein assaulted her.  The Evening World reported, "The child said that when she got to the young man's room he had held a knife over her, threatening her life if she made an outcry."  Shockingly, Goldstein was not done.  The article said that Edna "was afraid to go home for several hours and meanwhile Goldstein had enticed [12-year-old Fannie Katz] to his room."  Fannie escaped and ran to her mother.  Edna finally had enough courage go home.  The Evening World reported that just as Fannie Katz and her parents left the Charles Street station, "the parents of Edna Carroll arrived."

News of the outrageous crimes quickly spread throughout the neighborhood.  The World reported, "A great crowd gathered before Goldstein's house.  As he was dragged out by the policemen, several men in the crowd sprang forward and struck him down.  Before the policemen could draw their clubs and fight back the crowd, the young man had been kicked and beaten."

On February 17, Goldstein pleaded guilty.  He told the magistrate that he looked upon himself "with loathing" and said, "I must have been drunk or mad when I committed those horrible acts.  I see myself, now, as I must have been then, a creature only fit to be hanged."

The Delaney Funeral Parlors were still at 69 Eighth Avenue in 1924.  At the time, the other space was home to the florist shop of Alfred D. Sickles.

Patrick Mitchell and his family lived at 67 Eighth Avenue as early as 1922.  He listed his profession as a "trucking foreman," but police knew him as "Link" Mitchell, "a member of the 'Tanner' Smith gang when that organization was terrorizing the mid-west side," according to The New York Times.  Patrick was closely associated with Frank Wallace, described by the police as "a thrice-convicted member of the notorious Hudson Dusters gang," according to the newspaper. 

The two gangsters spent Saturday night, August 12, 1922, "from dusk until Sunday dawn cruising about Broadway and the side streets in an automobile, 'looking for a guy,' who was apparently avoiding him successfully," reported The Evening World.  At 2:00 a.m. they arrived at the Café La Vie on West 48th Street (a dining-dancing café).  

At around dawn, Wallace and Mitchell started to leave.  The New York Times reported, "Two bullets in his head, Wallace pitched from the café to the curb and toppled into the street to die an hour later in Roosevelt Hospital."  Patrick Mitchell was one of seven patrons who were detained as "material witnesses."

The slippery Patrick Mitchell avoided arrest over the coming years.  Then, early on the morning of October 17, 1925, detectives raided the Varsity Club at 48 Sixth Avenue and "seized a flask of gin and whisky," as reported by The New York Times.  Two men, Louis Roth and James Dixson, were arrested.  The article said, "As the detectives were leaving with their prisoners, they said, they saw Joseph King, a negro...hand a revolver to Patrick Mitchell."  Both men and Thomas King, "who was standing next to Mitchell," were arrested and charged with violating the Sullivan Law, an early gun control act.

Half a century after Alfred D. Sickles opened his flower shop in 69 Eighth Avenue, a florist still occupied the space.  On December 18, 1978, The Villager reported, "At 12:15 pm on December 9, two men entered the flower shop at 69 Eighth Avenue, pulled guns and forced the manager to turn over $450 in cash and $1900 worth of jewelry before fleeing north on Eighth Avenue.  The manager gave chase, but lost them at 16th Street." 

Two decades later, the McManus Florist occupied the space.

The Villager, February 7, 1996

There are still four apartments per floor in the buildings.  The cast iron piers of the 1884 storefronts survive, however the Renaissance Revival entablatures over the doorways are gone.  The upper floors are essentially unchanged.

photograph by Carole Teller

many thanks to artist Carole Teller for suggesting this post

Jobst Hoffman's 1880 29 East 7th Street

 

German-born architect Jobst Hoffmann filed plans for a "five-story brick apartment house" at 29 East 7th Street in February 1880 for developer Isaak Horchster.  Hoffmann's plans projected the cost of construction at $11,000, or about $357,000 in 2026 terms.  Seven months later, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide's "Watch The Records" column noted that liens had been filed against the owners of 25 and 27 East 7th Street.  The new owner of that property, Z. H. Miller, hired Hoffman to design two apartment buildings that would exactly match 29 East 7th Street, already under construction.

Hoffman's design was a blend of Queen Anne and neo-Grec styles.  And he introduced a splash of the Esthetic style in the whimsical cast iron fencing and stoop railings, composed of stylized sunflowers.

The stylized sunflowers were echoed in the incised carving of the stone stoop newels.

The paired ground floor openings shared a lintel decorated with a small rosette.  The centered entrance was crowned with an earred cornice inspired by ancient Greece.  The four upper stories were clad in red brick and trimmed in sandstone.  Hooded lintels decorated the second and fourth floor openings and between the third and fourth, Hoffmann added colorful encaustic, quilt-like tiles.

Colorful Queen Anne tiles and a fanciful cast iron ornament (the left half of which has been lost) decorate the facade.

The brick piers of the top floor wore cast metal capitals decorated with bosses.  They upheld the corbels of the elaborate pressed metal cornice.

No. 29 East 7th Street was known as a "double flat," meaning there were two apartments per floor.  Among the initial tenants was Auguste Schelcher.  He was on his way with friends to the ball of the Société Culinaire Philanthropique on the evening of April 30, 1883, when his night of gaiety turned to horror.  The New York Times reported that the group "were in a pleasant mood."  As they passed 404 Sixth Avenue, Désiré L. Houvet, a French chef and another member of the Société Culinaire Philanthropique, exited the building.  The New York Times reported:

Two or three were in a convivial condition, and they made jocose remarks when Houvet ran out...placing his hands on the shoulders of H. Barbier, of No. 49 West Twenty-seventh-street, and Auguste Schelcher, of No. 29 East Seventh-street, [and] sank to the pavement.  But their merriment changed to fear when they saw Houvet gasping and unable to speak.

The "elegantly dressed" Houvet had just been stabbed in the back by Elizabeth Quinquinet.  The New York Times would later explain, "Houvet, who was single, had led Mrs. Quinquinet astray and they had quarreled."  The 33-year-old Houvet died on the scene and, presumably, the evening that Auguste Schelcher's had looked forward to came to an end.

Josephine Frank, who lived here with her 10-year-old daughter in 1885, was in financial straits.  She was married to Lippman Frank on April 17, 1876, and "lived together for one year and a half.  Then they separated by mutual consent," according to the New-York Tribune.  In January 1886, she sued her husband for support, charging him with abandonment.

In court on January 19, Josephine presented a letter from the Commissioners of Charities and Correction, "stating that it was likely that she would become a burden on the taxpayers, unless her husband was compelled to support her," reported the New-York Tribune.  She, however, had to explain to the court what she had done with the money her husband had provided for.  When they separated, he gave her two houses on East 11th Street.  Josephine claimed that they were "in a bad condition and were torn down soon afterward."  She lost the properties in foreclosure.

Josephine had also neglected to mention that she and Lippman were not separated, they were divorced.  Lippman Frank presented a decree of divorced dated 1878 and Justice Power, "said that Mrs. Frank's claims fell to the ground."  He told the disappointed woman that she could, however, initiate a new suit for the support of the child.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The Hessler family occupied an apartment here in 1896 when their 15-year-old son, Charles, became a hero of sorts.  At 2:00 on the afternoon of July 7, Charles was on the Bowery near Catharine Street.  He saw 68-year-old John M. Sweitzer, who  was inebriated and lived in Utica, staggering along the sidewalk.  Suddenly three men rushed up and robbed him of $40.  The New-York Tribune explained that Sweitzer, "was unable, owing to his condition, to furnish any description of the robbers." 

Young Hessler, however, was quite able to describe them.  He told police that two had boarded a Second Avenue street car and the other went away on foot.  The article said, "With the boy, Detective Cahill entered a corner saloon, and Hessler pointed out [John] Long as the man whom he had seen standing to one side while the robbery was committed."  Charles Hessler countered Long's testimony that he "knew nothing of the affair."  On the weight of teen's affidavit, Long was committed to the Tombs Prison for further investigation.

Pauline Zelba lived here in 1913.  She and two friends, Emma Stern and Celia Shubert partnered in running two cider stubes on East 4th and East 5th Streets.  (Cider stubes were taverns, patronized mostly by German Americans, that sold light food and cider made from fermented apples.)  The women were offering more than cider and sausages, as it turned out.  On April 16, 1913, the New-York Tribune reported that all three were arrested and "charged with keeping disorderly houses in cider stubes."  (A "disorderly house" was the polite term for a brothel.)

By 1924, the basement level of 29 East 7th Street had been converted to two commercial spaces.  Operating from one of them that year was George Withers Music Co.

Music Supervisors' Journal, December 1924 (copyright expired)

There are still just two apartments per floor in 29 East 7th Street.  Because Z. H. Miller wisely decided to have Hoffmann recreate his design at Nos. 25 and 27, the trio has an enhanced presence.

photographs by the author

Richard Williamson's 118 East 78th Street

 

The extension of the New York and Harlem Railway along Fourth Avenue (later Park Avenue) in the early 1830s sparked interest in the district.  East 78th Street was officially opened in 1860 and homes began appearing shortly afterward.  But construction ground nearly to a halt throughout the city when laborers were sent to fight in the South.  

The Civil War ended in April 1865 and one developer wasted no time in constructing of a row of upper-middle-class rowhouses along East 78th Street between Lexington and Fourth Avenue.  Historians agree that it was likely Richard Williamson who was responsible for the project.  

Three stories tall above rusticated basements, the houses were just 18-feet wide.  Their elliptically arched openings sat within attractive molded frames.  Williamson's builder forewent the fussy scrolled corbels and pediments seen above Italianate entrances of more costly homes, giving these a simple keystone.

The molded architraves of 118 East 78th Street would have matched these, which survived in examples farther east along the row in 1940.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Given the regular change in occupants, it appears that Williamson rented 118 East 78th Street.  Living here in 1870 was Deborah Plume, the widow of Isaac Plume, and her son, Joseph.  (Another son, Isaac H. Plume, was among those New Yorkers who had marched off to battle.  A member of the Seventh Regiment, he rose to the rank of first lieutenant and was killed in the Battle of Manassas on August 27.)  Deborah died here on July 23, 1870 at the age of 80.  Her funeral was held in the parlor three days later.

James S. Shell and wife, Mary J., moved in within months.  Schell was a saddler with Hoover, Calhoun & Co., "manufacturers and importers of fine saddlery and harness, wholesale and retail," as described by The Merchant's Directory.  

Schell, too, had served in the war, but his experience was much different from that of Isaac Plume.  James S. Schell was drafted into the Union Army on March 21, 1865.  Just over two weeks later, on April 9, Robert E. Lee surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant, effectively ending the war.  Schell was mustered out on July 11, 1865.  

Like most families who had extra rooms, the Schells took in boarders.  Their ad on December 22, 1875 read: 

A gentleman and wife, or family, can have elegant Rooms and Board very low with small private family; brown stone residence.  118 East Seventy-eighth street, near Madison avenue cars.

Answering that ad was attorney Wells Hendershott, who listed his address here through 1877.

Around 1878 William D. Lent and his family owned and occupied 118 East 78th Street.  Lent was a glass merchant with his business at 390 Broome Street.  He and his wife, Ella M., had three daughters Alice, Mary and Marietta.  

Marietta's wedding to William H. Starbuck in St. Bartholomew's Church on September 22, 1880 reflected the family's comfortable finances.  "The bride's dress was of brocaded silver satin, and the dresses of the bridesmaids of mull and satin," reported The Daily Graphic.  The article noted, "A reception followed at the house of the bride's parents, No. 118 East Seventy-eighth street."

It appears that living with William D. Lent could be taxing.  Decades later, he sued his daughter, Alice, who was now married, "to restrain her from disposing of the contents of a safe deposit box containing securities which he had given to her," reported the New York Herald.  He died on November 17, 1915 leaving an estate equal to $3.2 million in 2026 terms.  The New York Herald reported, "He gave nothing to his wife, Mrs. Ella M. Lent."

In the meantime, the Lent family had moved to 60 East 68th Street around 1886 and the East 78th Street house became home to the Herman Hirsch family.  It was either the Lents or the Hirsches who slightly updated the house around that time.  Modern, Esthetic-style ironwork at the stoop and areaway replaced the Italianate originals.  And French windows with a modified fanlight were installed in the parlor.

The new parlor window and one of the replaced newels can be seen at the left in this 1913 photograph. (The molded architraves are intact.)  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

Herman Hirsch listed his profession as "liquors," meaning he either ran saloons or liquor stores.  He had two locations, one at 1336 Third Avenue and the other at 75 Murray Street.  When the family moved into 118 East 78th Street, Lee Hirsch was attending the Free Academy of New York.

The residence continued to see a frequent turn-over of occupants.  The Beckwell family lived here in 1895 when William and James J. Beckwell added their names to hundreds of New Yorkers who petitioned the Board of Aldermen to construct a "bicycle path between the upper and lower parts of the city."

Around 1906, John H. Campbell and his wife purchased 118 East 78th Street.  Born in 1866, Campbell was described by the New-York Tribune as "prominent in New York politics during the reign of Richard Croker as Tammany Hall chieftain."  The distinction was not especially positive.  "Boss" Crocker's tenure was marked with corruption.  Campbell was initially Crocker's secretary, and when the latter became City Chamberlain in 1889 he made Campbell his deputy.  

John H. Campbell, from the collection of the Library of Congress.

In 1908, Campbell "left the city's service," as worded by the New-York Tribune, and took the position of treasurer of the Interborough Rapid Transit Company.  He would become, as well, the treasurer of the Subway Realty Company, the Rapid Transit Subway Construction Company, the Interborough Consolidated Corporation, and a director of the Merchants Refrigerating Company, the Metropolitan Securities Company, and "several ferry and transportation concerns," according to the New-York Tribune.

While Campbell was busy at work, his wife enjoyed the lifestyle of a well-to-do woman.  On August 24, 1913, the New-York Tribune reported, "Mrs. John Campbell, of No. 118 East 78th street, who is spending the summer at the Nassau Hotel, Long Beach, gave a shore dinner and dance to her Beach friends at the Casino, Long Beach, Tuesday evening, August 19."  The article noted that Nathan Frank and his wife were among the guests and "his orchestra of fifty pieces played on the porch during the dinner."

With his health failing in 1919, Campbell and his wife sold 118 East 78th Street to Dr. Royal Herman Willis and his wife, Jennie.  The Campbells moved to the Garden City Hotel in Garden City where John H. Campbell would die on April 5, 1922 at the age of 56.  

Herman was Jennie's second husband.  Born Jennie B. Murray in 1867, her first husband, Samuel Edward Vernon, died in 1914.  She and Vernon had two children, Vivian and Murray Vernon.  They were 25 and 21 years old respectively in 1919.

Vivian would not reside in the East 78th Street house.  The previous year, on May 11, 1918, she married Leo Nunes, "of Leghorn, Italy, in Grace Church," as reported by the New-York Tribune.

Murray Vernon would live here until 1923.  On June 9, 1923, The New York Times reported on his marriage to Marcella Verran at the bride's home at 270 Park Avenue.

At some point prior to 1940, the molded architraves were shaved flat, apparently in an effort to slightly modernize the facade.

The molding of the frames around the windows and doorway was flattened by 1940.  The shuttered windows and boarded entrance suggests interior renovation was going on.  The charming crescent moon cutouts in the shutters provided ventilation.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.  

Jennie B. Willis died on December 3, 1953 at the age of 86.  Dr. Royal Herman Willis would die in Brooklyn in 1961 at the age of 85.  

In the meantime, the East 78th Street house was converted to two duplex apartments in 1953.  The configuration remained until a renovation in 1971 returned the house to a single-family home.  

In 2007 Chelsea Atelier Architect, PC completed a gut renovation.  The firm's website says that the "facade was completely restored to its original brownstone...Some stone was replaced and everything was repainted."

photograph by the author

William E. Waring's 1881 106 West Houston Street

 

William E. Waring was perhaps best known for his tenement building designs.  In 1881, real estate investors Louis P. Dexheimer and Henry Thole hired him to design two tenement-and-store buildings at 104 and 106 West Houston Street at the northeast corner of Thompson Street.   Thole's building, No. 106, would be identical to that of Dexheimer.  Completed within the year, they were faced in brownstone and reflected an interesting mix of Italianate and neo-Grec styles.

The residential entrance to 106 West Houston Street was located around the corner at 164 Thompson Street.  Its handsome stone enframement included scrolled corbels that upheld a classical triangular pediment.  It and the segmentally arched windows were Italianate; however, the incised carvings of the lintels and the geometric lines of the cast metal cornice were purely neo-Grec.  To further confuse the architectural mix, Waring capped the cornices with Classical-style pediments topped with an anthemion, and flanked them with neo-Classical urns.

There were two apartments per floor in the building.  The store became home to H. Reiken's drugstore.  An advertisement he placed in the New York Herald on October 10, 1883 hinted at the neighborhood's demographics:

Drug Clerk (Junior)--That can speak French fluently and has had city experience may apply H. Reiken, 106 West Houston st.

In 1888, Leon Wernert graduated from the College of Pharmacy New York and took over the operation of the pharmacy.  He and Pietro Drureno established a symbiotic relationship when, on November 27 that year, Drureno received a permit to operate a newsstand on the sidewalk outside the drugstore.

Two of the urns on the shared cornice survived as late as 1940.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Tom Turner lived at 64 South Fifth Avenue (today's LaGuardia Place) in 1889.  On the morning of March 27, he came into the drugstore and bought "forty grains of quinine," as reported by The Evening World.  It is unclear why Turner wanted the medication, which was mostly used to treat malaria.  In any case, said the article, he "took all of it on the spot.  It made him feel very sick and he had to be taken home and attended by a physician."  Presumably Turner survived the ordeal.

Among the residents in 1893 was James Hayden, described by the New York Herald as "a notorious pickpocket, who is also known as Funeral Wells."  Once a bookkeeper, the newspaper explained that now, "His picture is in the Rogues' Gallery and he has spent many years in prison."  Having a criminal past in the 19th century was reason enough to be arrested.  On October 9, 1893, Hayden and three other men were loitering around Sixth Avenue and 28th Street.  Detectives Sullivan and Lang noticed the "quartette of crooks," as described by the New York Herald.  "The crooks didn't do anything unlawful, so they were arrested as suspicious characters." said the article.  It continued, "They will be arraigned in Jefferson Market Police Court this morning."

Leon Wernert moved his business to Third Avenue.  The pharmacy here was taken over by Frederick Sutheim.  In the meantime, the residents continued to be middle class.  Living here in 1897 were the families of Gustav Grumbach, who ran a fur business on Clinton Place (today's West 8th Street); tailor Joseph Eremito; Peter Campora, who ran a florist shop steps away at 100 West Houston Street; Dominico Livellara, whose butcher shop was on Bleecker Street; and Caroline Buzze, a widow.

By the outbreak of World War I, Paul F. Gebicke ran the drugstore.  Born in Germany in 1854, he was vice-president and custodian of the mortuary fund of the German Apothecaries' Society of New York.  Although the neighborhood was greatly filled with Italian immigrants, the German druggist was "very popular" according to The Practical Druggist in December 1919.

Druggist Paul F. Gebicke, The Practical Druggist, December 1919 (copyright expired)

In the post-World War I years, the neighborhood saw increasing violence and crime.  Giuseppe Pepe lived here as early as 1920.  On January 20, 1921, The Evening World reported that he had been arrested for "peddling home made hootch to householders."

On the night of August 8, 1922, Alfred Form staggered into the drugstore and collapsed.  The 30-year-old tailor "had been stabbed in the abdomen and the left hand," reported the New York Herald.  The article said, "He became unconscious before he could be questioned and was in a serious condition when taken to St. Vincent's Hospital."  Detectives surmised that the stabbing was a result "of labor troubles in the clothing business."

The Valeati family occupied an apartment here in 1927.  On September 4 that year, 15-year-old Tony Valeati was watching a dice game in the rear yard of the building.  A quarrel broke out between two of the gamblers.  The New York Times reported, "A pistol was drawn and Tony was shot in the left shoulder."  Happily, the wound was not serious and he was treated at St. Vincent's Hospital.  The gamblers, not unexpectedly, had scattered.

Boys play in a stack of paving blocks as a limousine crosses West Houston street in 1932.  The excavation for the subway had been covered, but the pavement had not been repaired yet.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

After having been a pharmacy for decades, in the Prohibition years the store became a "pasticceria and gelateria," or pastry and gelato shop.  By the early 1960s, it was a cafe, La Casa Di Arturo, operated by Arthur Giunta.  (In 1964, he was refused a beer license because he had pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor in 1959 and because it was within 200 feet of a school, St. Anthony's School.)

The name La Casa Di Arturo eventually was honed down to Arturo's, a famous Greenwich Village spot for Italian food and pizza.  A blurb in Claudia Varrin's 2002 A Guide to New York's Fetish Underground described Arturo's fare, "Terrific brick-oven pizza, great mussels in wine sauce, live jazz on selected nights."

Arturo's has spread into the twin building next door.

More than half a century after Arthur Giunta opened his cafe, Arturo's remains a Greenwich Village destination.  William E. Waring's 1881 building has lost the urns that once decorated its cornice, but overall its appearance is little changed.

photographs by the author

The 1888 Edinboro - 203 West 103rd Street

 

Like the green patina'ed bands at the cornice and window pediment on 103rd, the black bays on Amsterdam Avenue were once clad in copper.  photo by Anthony Bellov

In August 1887, Edward L. Angell filed plans for a "six-story brick apartment house" at the northwest corner of 103rd Street and Tenth Avenue (renamed Amsterdam Avenue in 1890) for developer Charles A. Fuller.  Angell projected the construction costs at $65,000, or about $2.27 million in 2026.  

The neighborhood Fuller chose was known as Manhattan Valley.  On December 20, 1890, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide noted, "The first builder to erect a six-story flat in the neighborhood was Chas. A. Fuller."  Fuller dubbed his building the Edinboro.

Angell designed the structure in a blend of Queen Anne and Renaissance Revival styles.  His tripartite design was a study of mixed-media.  Faced in variegated beige brick, the Edinboro was trimmed in brownstone, sandstone, copper and terra cotta.  

On the avenue side were storefronts.  The residential entrance  at 203 West 103rd Street was uncompromisingly Renaissance Revival in style.  Sitting above a wide flight of steps, it was flanked by paneled pilasters capped with rows of anthemions.  They supported a heavy entablature elaborately carved with Renaissance inspired decorations.

The stonework has been painted and the entrance modernized with unsympathetic doors more expected in a public school building.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

The 103rd Street elevation included a panel carved with a zig-zagging ribbon and surmounted by an arched, swag-filled pediment.  At the fifth floor were quilt-like panels of Queen Anne-style terra cotta tiles, and at the sixth a shield on a leafy background announced the construction date.  A large, ogee gable that rose from the sixth floor and interrupted the cornice was outlined with copper.

The Amsterdam Avenue side was distinguished by copper-clad bays.  Those on the third floor were fronted with blind balustrades and capped with Renaissance-style triangular pediments.  Angell designed the cornice as more of a parapet composed of a regimented table of brick-stepped corbels.

The ribbon design smacked of the letter M.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

Potential residents could choose from apartments of five, seven or eight rooms with a bath.  (There was a total of 26 apartments in the building.)  Tenants could patronize the restaurant in the building and rents were offered "with or without meals."  An advertisement boasted, "hot water, gas ranges, steam heat" and "uniformed service."  (The uniformed staff would have included the elevator operator and hall boys, available for doing errands like carrying packages, delivering mail and such.)  Rents ranged from $600 to $900 per year--about $2,000 to $3,000 a month today.

Among the residents in the 1890s were civil engineer Edward P. North, who was appointed Water Purveyor for the Department of Public Works in 1895; real estate broker John W. Stevens, who purchased his first Upper West Side property in 1854; and banker and stockbroker John W. Gilbough.

John W. Gilbough, King's Views of the New York Stock Exchange, 1898 (copyright expired)

Richard Spillane and his family lived in the Edinboro as early as 1903.  An editor, he and his wife had at least one daughter.  They worshiped at St. Agnes's Chapel on West 91st Street.  Robert J. Hudson was on the staff there.  The 53-year-old was described by The Evening World as "an evangelist and Bible class leader."  

In the spring of 1903, Spillane's daughter came home from Riverside Park with a horrific tale.  Robert Hudson routinely "gathered the little children around him and read them stories from the Bible," said The Evening World.  "He would then take liberties with the tots."  

Enraged, Spillane had Hudson arrested in April on charges of "accosting girls in Riverside Park and showing them indecent sketches."  Spillane also told other parents of the crimes.  On April 3, Hudson appeared in Magistrate Crane's private quarters.  Testifying against him were Richard Spillane and two other fathers, Dr. J. H. Prentice and R. C. Stannard.  Stannard had already made up his mind about Hudson's guilt, saying that if he "ever dared to show his face in the neighborhood again he would riddle him with bullets."

Hudson insisted he, "never did anything wrong in my life."  He told the magistrate, "I play ball with the boys and pat the girls on their heads."  When Magistrate Crane asked why he had been forced to leave Spencer, Massachusetts, Hudson explained that "Some malicious persons there said I was stealing hay."

Roger J. Hudson was tried in the Court of Special Sessions on April 14.  Richard Spillane was there to testify, as were four little girls ranging from eight to 12 years old.  Spillane said in part:

His character is bad for he told me himself he was driven from Spencer, Massachusetts.  He is the enemy of every child that frequents the Drive.  He told me he wouldn't blame me if I killed him.  The women wanted to hang him to a tree.

In his defense, Hudson insisted, "the most he was guilty of was a little indiscretion."  He pointed out, "All men are subject to indiscretions."  Justice Mayer did not agree.  He sentenced Hudson to eight months in the penitentiary.

Living in the Edinboro at the time of the scurrilous trial was professional whistler Alice J. Shaw, who, with three of her daughters, shared an apartment with her aunt, Harriet Goodhue.  Born Alice J. Horton in 1853, she divorced her husband, William Holland Shaw in 1888.  (Somewhat scandalously, on May 15, 1888 The New York Sun reported, "A report is in circulation that Mrs. Alice Shaw, the whistler, is to be married to the Hon. William F. Cody, better known as Buffalo Bill...Buffalo Bill, it may be added, is married.  Mrs. Shaw is, too, but is suing for a divorce.")

Alice was a celebrity.  Following her divorce she honed her talent of whistling.  By the time she and her daughters moved into the Edinboro, she had traveled the world, had performed for the Prince of Wales, and The Times-Union described her as being "well known throughout the country."

Alice J. Shaw, The Amusement Bulletin, October 19, 1889 (copyright expired)

Alice was sued by photographer Theodore C. Marceau for $143.09 in publicity photographs.  In  court on February 8, 1903, she was asked, "What are you?"  She answered, "I am an artist--a musical artist.  I am a professional whistler."

In the spring of 1907, another entertainer, actor Willard Hutchinson, moved into the Edinboro with his wife.  While the 29-year-old thespian was appearing in Toledo, Ohio in May that year, his valise was stolen.  Among the items inside were his new lease and business card.  The next week, sans valise, Hutchinson returned to New York.  In the meantime, the thief in Ohio was using his identity to pass bad checks.  On May 11, Hutchinson was arrested and jailed in The Tombs after Toledo police had sent a telegram with his information and a photograph.

In court the next morning, Hutchinson complained, "It's pretty hard luck for a fellow to be arrested and jailed because a crook swipes his suit case."  His "hard luck" worsened when he was told he would be held until the arrival of a Toledo detective "to see if he is the man wanted," reported the New York Herald on May 12.  Five days later, The New York Times reported that he had been dismissed, saying that the "picture and description of Hutchinson were not those of the man who had committed the fraud."

The Edinboro continued to attract upper-middle-class tenants, like civil engineer John Christian Ostrup and his wife, the former Mary Forbes Whyte, who were here as early as 1910.  Born in Denmark in 1864, he was educated at the Royal Cadet School in Copenhagen, received his Civil Engineering degree at the Polytechnic School in Copenhagen, and did post-graduate work at Chicago Engineering School.  In 1907 he was hired as Professor of Structural Engineering at the Stevens Institute of Technology in Hoboken.  He was, as well, a consulting engineer with offices at 17 Battery Place.

British Engineers and Allied Professions in the Twentieth Century 1910 (copyright expired)

Henry "Harry" Anderson was born in 1869.  He married Grace Irene Ryder in the Church of the Transfiguration on April 8, 1907.  An avid yachtsman, he became a member of the New York Athletic Club's yacht division in 1902 and later a member of the Larchmont Yacht Club.  

As a representative of the importing and exporting firm Roderick & Rumsey, Anderson traveled abroad regularly.  He was in London in March 1912 on business and booked passage home on the new luxury liner RMS Titanic.  Interestingly, while Grace did not accompany him on the trip, their dog did.  Somewhat surprisingly, Anderson was rescued by the RMS Carpathia following the Titanic's sinking.  (Unfortunately, his dog was not so lucky.)

Once aboard the Carpathia, Anderson attempted to telegram Grace, saying, "Safe aboard Carpathia.  Do not worry."  The wireless operator, however, was faced with a mountain of messages  and Andersons's was one of those that was not transmitted.  

Grace Anderson died at the age of 38 on June 9, 1915.  Harry Anderson was still living in the Edinboro as late as 1919.

In 1940 the copper bays on the Amsterdam Avenue side and the distinctive ogee gable on the side street were intact.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Stockbroker John L. Burness lived here in the early Depression years.  The bachelor maintained a country home in Sea Cliff, Long Island.  On Friday, June 21, 1935, he left 203 West 103rd Street to spend the weekend at the home of William Brown at Atlantic Beach, Long Island.  The men played golf at the Lido Country Club that afternoon.

The next morning, Brown went to his office in Rockville Centre.  Burness got up and, for some reason, went into the garage.  There, according to police, he got into an argument with a maid, 20-year-old Dorothea Kassady.  Later that morning, Burness's body was discovered in the garage.  "It was said death was due to carbon monoxide fumes," reported The New York Times.

But an autopsy revealed a blunt-force injury on the back of Burness's skull.  An investigation discovered that Dorothea Kassady quarreled with the 30-year-old "over money she said he owed her."  She hit him over the head with a hammer, then turned on the ignition of the Brown's automobile and closed the garage doors to stage his murder as carbon monoxide poisoning.

photo by Anthony Bellov

In 1948, 203 West 103rd Street was renovated.  There were now 42 apartments in the building--about twice as many as there were originally.  The tenants were still middle-class.  Among the residents in 1949 was Rafael Rio, a representative of the Puerto Rican Government.  Born in 1888, he relocated to New York City as a young man.  He held memberships to the Whitehall Club, the New York Athletic Club, the Pan-American Society and the Maritime Exchange.

Panels of terra cotta, Queen Anne-style tiles decorate the fifth floor.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

In 1957, jazz saxophonist John William "Trane" Coltrane  and his wife, Naima, moved into an apartment here.  Naima (born Juanita Grubbs) was a Muslim convert and had a daughter, Antonia (later renamed Syeeda).  Coltrane later adopted her.

John William Coltrane, from the collection of the Library of Congress

Coltrane had been a part of Miles Davis's successful group, the First Great Quinet.  According to Ben Ratliff of The New York Times later, the group dissolved partly because of Coltrane's heroin addiction.  By the time he moved his family into 203 West 103rd Street, he had beaten his addiction.  In his Saxophone Colossus: The Life and Music of Sonny Rollins, Aiden Levy writes:

Coltrane invited [Freddie] Hubbard to practice with him at the apartment he shared with his wife, Naima, and his stepdaughter, Syeeda, at 203 West 103rd Street.  Coltrane was developing the "Coltrane changes" that culminated in "Giants Steps."

Hubbard later recalled, "I'd take the subway to Trane's house every day he was in town.  I had a headache when I left there because he was practicing so much."

The Coltranes left 203 West 103rd Street in 1959.  He is remembered today as one of the most influential figures in 20th century jazz music.

The top of the gable has been chopped off.  Happily, its copper outline survives.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

By the late 1970s, the striking ogee gable was decapitated.  Then, in 2017, plans were filed for "facade repair."  It was likely at this time that Edward L. Angell's distinctive copper bays were removed.  The changes greatly diluted what had been a highly unusual and attractive design.

many thanks to Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post