The 1845 John Allen House - 119 East 10th Street

 

In the early 19th century, Joseph Russell was active in real estate operations within the district that had once been the Stuyvesant farms.  In 1845 he erected a high-end speculative residence at 189 Tenth Street (later renumbered 119 East 10th Street).  Faced in brick, the 26-foot wide, three-and-a-half story house sat upon a brownstone basement.  The ornate iron stoop railings gracefully wrapped the finial-topped newels, which perched upon fluted stone drums.  The double-doored entrance sat within an earred brownstone frame, and the upper floor openings sat upon diminutive brackets.  

Merchant John Allen and his family occupied the house as early as 1850.  His drygoods business was located at 115 Broadway.  The family remained here until the spring of 1858.  On April 27 that year, an auction of the household goods was held and its announcement reflected the refinement of the Allens' home.  It listed "elegant rosewood suites in purple velvet plush, carved rosewood quartette and marble top centre tables" and "very handsome bedroom suites, elegant large mahogany bookcases, wardrobe and secretary."  A "very costly French mantel 21-day clock" had originally cost the Allens $150 (more than $6,200 by 2026 terms).

Louis Durr acquired the mansion (one of scores of investment properties he would eventually accumulate).  A wealthy gold and silver refiner, Durr was known for his art collection, which included works by Titian, Rembrandt, and Vandyke.

Durr initially leased the house to William H. and Susan E. Philips.  The parlor was the scene of the funeral of their only child, Elizabeth Dimon Philips, on April 12, 1859.  Real estate operator Daniel T. Macfarland rented the house the following year.

Deborah A. Ellison leased 119 East 10th Street in 1861 and operated it as an upscale boarding house.  Her tenants that year were Albert Gilbert, a clerk; and James M. Thorburn and his family.  Thorburn operated a seed business, James M. Thorburn & Co., at 15 John Street.

The boarding house was taken over the following year by Deborah Tigh (sometimes spelled Tighe).  Like Deborah Ellison, she took in only a few, select boarders.  Adele Bassié lived here in 1865.  She was a drawing teacher in the girl's department of School No. 22 on Stanton Street.  Other boarders over the ensuing years were William Walker, a trimmings merchant; and shoe manufacturer B. Reed.

Another widow, Susan S. Bond, operated the boarding house starting in 1874.  Her 25-year-old son, J. Edwin F. Bond, lived here as well.  Tragically, the young man contracted pneumonia shortly after they moved in and he died on February 3, 1874.  His funeral was held in the parlor on February 6.

As her predecessors had done, Susan took in only about two boarders (and, in some cases, their families) at a time.  Jennie A. Moran was here in 1875 and 1876.  She was an assistant in the primary department of Grammar School No. 13 on East Houston Street, earning $525 per year (about $17,000 today).

Louis Durr died in 1880 and the following year 119 East 10th Street was one of the scores of properties sold at auction to liquidate his estate.  It was purchased by John J. Smith for the equivalent of about $332,000 today.  (It turned out to be a bargain price and within a few years would demand double that amount.)

The residence saw a relatively quick turnover in owners.  Smith's son, Kinsland Smith, sold it to Henry A. and Cornelia R. Spaulding in March 1884.  They resold it the following April to Andrew Maquire for $20,000 (about $673,000 today).

Interestingly, the Macquires' daughter, Grace, taught in the primary department of Grammar School 13, the same school in which Jennie A. Moran taught while she boarded here in 1875.

The Macquires took in boarders, but unlike the respected professionals of a few decades earlier, these often found themselves on the wrong side of the law.  Living here in 1898 were Andrew C. Hendricks and C. A. Kendricks.  The New York Sun noted, "there was frequent confusion to the delivery of their mail owing to the similarity of their names."  And that was what happened one afternoon when Andrew Hendricks opened an envelope that was intended for Kendricks.  Inside was a Post Office money order for $15.  Hendricks forged the other man's name, cashed it, and then moved out.  Suspicion soon fell upon Hendricks, who was tracked down and arrested.  The New York Sun reported on July 7, 1898, "He was held in $2,000 for examination."

Frank Hadden, who boarded with the Maquire family in 1900 had a severe drinking problem.  On June 8, he was admitted to the Harlem Hospital with delirium tremens--a life-threatening form of alcohol withdrawal.  His ward was filled with similar cases.  At 11:40 that night, an orderly, Luke Dempsey, was passing through the ward when James O'Donnell, "a bartender of great strength, ill with pneumonia, leaped from his bed in his delirium and caught the orderly by the throat," as reported by the New-York Tribune.

O'Donnell, "with the strength of a madman," according to the article, choked the orderly and threw him to the floor.  The scuffle attracted another orderly.  When he tried to intervene, Frank Hadden and another patient, Robert Whalen, "leaped from their cots and joined the fracas."  That simply excited other patients and within seconds "a miniature insurrection of delirious patients," as described by the New-York Tribune, had broken out.

A policeman, Thomas Fay, who had been guarding a hospitalized convict, rushed to the scene.  One of the patients saw him coming.  "He seized a heavy galvanized cup and hurled it at Fay.  It hit him squarely between the eyes, and he dropped as if shot."  Before long, the "entire hospital was now in an uproar."  A cadre of doctors and orderlies responded and eventually subdued the mob.  The violent patients were strapped to their cots.  The New-York Tribune said, "It lasted half an hour and blood flowed before it ended."

Among the injured was Frank Hadden, who was treated for bruises.  The article noted, "Whalen and Hadden will be transferred to the alcoholic ward at Belleview Hospital this morning."  It is doubtful that he ever returned to 119 East 10th Street.

Andrew Maguire sold the house in 1902.  The tenants did not improve with a change of ownership.  Miguel Pajarin lived here on October 31 when he joined a card party at 206 East 99th Street.  Among the four players was Philip Lemonte, alias Jose Marignette, a Cuban-born cigarmaker.  Something--possibly the accusation of cheating--broke up the party and Pajarin left, "saying he was going to tell the police," as reported by The New York Evening World.  Lemonte followed him and at the corner of Third Avenue, shot Pajarin in the leg.  The wounded man ran into the hallway of an apartment building.  Lemonte followed him and shot him in the heart.  Lemonte was tracked down and charged with murder.

Sadie Green was arrested on September 5, 1904.  Officer McGough charged her with "disorderly conduct and loitering at 16th Street and Third Avenue."  (Disorderly conduct was a polite way of describing prostitution.)  She was fined $10 (about $350 today) and released.

The bad press concerning roomers here continued.  In December 1907, Harry Pelz was caught trying to escape a police raid on a poolroom--or illegal gambling operation--in Harlem.  The New York Times said, "The detectives say they found two poker tables, chips, racing charts, and telephones."

And living here in 1911 was Robert Becker, who worked as the butler in the William Einstein house at 121 East 57th Street.  On March 28 that year, Mrs. Einstein discovered that $8,000 of jewelry was missing.  Three days later a painter, John Grauvogel, was arrested.  He had about one-half of the booty and insisted he did not know it was stolen.  The Sun reported, "He said that he got the jewelry when he accompanied Becker to a room at 119 East Tenth street where the butler was staying."  Becker told him he was going to Chicago.

Respectability returned to 119 East 10th Street with Dr. Joseph Kaufman, who lived and ran his practice here starting in 1912.  The well-respected physician routinely submitted articles to publications like the New York Medical Journal and the Philadelphia Medical Journal.  He would remain here at least through 1917.

Also living in the house as early as 1915 and through 1919 was  Blanca Will.  Born in 1881 in Richmond, New York, the well-rounded artist was a sculptor, painter, printmaker, designer and art educator.  She had studied throughout Europe and in Egypt, Turkey and Greece.

Two of Blanca Will's sculptures, a seated girl and an antelope, were recently auctioned.  image via invaluable.com

On July 27, 1920, the New-York Tribune headlined an article, "St. Mark's Church to Modernize Another House for Parishioners" and reported that it had purchased 119 East 10th Street.  The article mentioned, "The church, which is located on the corner of Second Avenue and Tenth Street, is the owner of several properties near the church."

A woman performs the daily chore of sweeping the stoop in 1941.  The finials of newel posts were intact.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Living here by 1925 were well-known sculptor, Alexander Sterling Calder and his artist wife, Nanette Lederer Calder.  Calder's father was also a sculptor, Scottish-born Alexander Milne Calder.  (The elder Calder's best known work is the statue of William Penn on the tower of Philadelphia's City Hall.)   Alexander and Nanette met at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts and were married on February 22, 1895.

Following the family's artistic bent was the couple's son, Alexander "Sandy" Calder, known best for his innovative mobiles.  He exhibited his The Eclipse at the Ninth Annual Exhibition of The Society of Independent Artists at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in 1925.  According to Joan Simon and Brigitte Leal in their Alexander Calder: The Paris Years, 1926-1933, the 1925, "In the exhibition catalogue he lists his address at 119 East Tenth Street, where he periodically lived with his parents."

Alexander Calder exhibited The Eclipse while living at 119 East 10th Street.  from the collection of the Calder Foundation

The Calders were followed by William Barton Chapin, Jr. and his wife, the former Marion Rungee.  When they were married on August 27, 1932, The New York Times mentioned, "The marriage unites descendants of families prominent in Colonial and Revolutionary times."  The couple was visible in Manhattan social circles, and on May 13, 1938, The Sun noted, "The list of dinner hosts and hostesses for tonight is headed by Mr. and Mrs. William Barton Chapin Jr., who will entertain twenty guests at their home, 119 East Tenth street."

By 1958, Dr. Robert D. Richtmeyer occupied the house.  Born in Ithaca, New York on October 10, 1910, he received his Ph.D. in physics from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in 1935.  In 1940 he was appointed a scientist with the Bureau of Ships of the United States Navy and from 1945 to 1953 served with the Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory where he worked on developing nuclear weapons.  Now, he was a professor of applied mathematics at New York University.

In the mid-1960s, the house served as headquarters of Contemporary Art Associates.  Then, a renovation completed in 1985 resulted in apartments, one per floor.

photographs by the author

The 1881 Warwick Apartments -- 184 West 10th Street

 

image via nycbuildingadvisors.com

Philip Henry Dugro (who went professionally by his middle name) was not only an attorney, a judge, and a New York State Assemblyman, he was a real estate developer and partner with Herman Raegener in Dugro & Raegener.  In 1880, the pair hired architect F. W. Klemt to design an apartment-and-store building at the southwest corner of West 4th and West 10th Streets.  (In 1881, the year the Warwick apartments was completed, Henry Dugro would be elected to Congress.  He is, perhaps, best remembered for arguing that the reputations of  Black citizens had less legal value than whose of whites.)

Construction cost Dugro & Raegener $18,000, or about $570,000 in 2026 terms.  Klemt designed the five-story building in the popular neo-Grec style.  Faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone, its windows wore prominent lintels, each connected to the next by stone bandcourses.  The entrance was centered on West 10th Street, the stone frame of which included substantial pilasters decorated with incised, stylized flowers.  They upheld a heavy entablature and cornice.  Directly above, creative Lego-like brickwork created a framework for a stone plaque that announced "Warwick."

image via streeteasy.com

Residents of the Warwick were working- to middle-class.  George P. Gabeka, who lived here in 1884, for instance, taught in the boys' department of Grammar School No. 38 on Clarke Street.  And two young women, presumably sisters, placed an advertisement in The New York Times on November 20, 1894 that read:

Chambermaid--Lady's Maid--By two French girls, speaking English; one as chambermaid or waitress, the other as lady's maid; good city references.  184 West 10th St., Simon's bell.

The two women were apparently educated and mannered.  Both a lady's maid and a waiter (the servant who served in the dining room and drawing room) would be necessarily polished and well-spoken.

Living in the Warwick in 1895 was Lizzie Barton, who found herself in a tangled and publicized romance.  Lizzie began seeing a man named Thomas Watson, who turned out to a charming and seductive lothario.  It is unclear if Lizzie was aware that Watson was a married man (with more than just one wife).

On May 3, 1895, Antoinette Watson sued to compel Ella May Watson to provide proof of her marriage to Thomas Watson.  Ella May, in turn, sued Antoinette for $30,000 damages "for the alienation of the affections of Watson, whom both claim as a husband," as reported by the New York Herald.  The enraged Ella May initiated a divorce suit, "on the ground of Watson's relations with Antoinette and another woman named Lizzie Barton."  The two Mrs. Watsons battled it out in court, accusing one another of being a loose woman, each insisting she was the legitimate wife.  It does not appear that Lizzie Barton was ever called to testify.

In the meantime, a saloon occupied the storefront on West 4th Street.  The owner had a serious problem in December 1890, placing an ad in The World that read: "Lost--A saloon license issued for 230 West 4th st; finder rewarded by returning same."

The saloon was operated by Herman Romer as early as 1904.  That year he was targeted by the notorious domestic terrorist group, the Black Hand Society.  On September 2, the New-York Tribune reported that Romer had been marked for the society's "latest financial venture."  The article said that the previous day, Romer "received a letter inscribed with a black hand, a stiletto, a revolver and skull and crossbones."  It read:

Put this in mind and don't forget.  We want you to pay the sum of $10,000, or you will be killed before September 15.  Leave the money at Tompkins Square Park on or before September 14 12 a.m. or any time before then.

The demand would equal more than $360,000 today.

Romer took the letter to the Detective Bureau, which offered a reward of $1,000 to anyone who could identify the sender.  A reporter from the New-York Tribune visited the saloon that night.  Romer told him, "If only one of those fellows could be caught, there would soon be an end to the whole society.  I will do my best to run my correspondent down."  (It appears that Romer survived the threat.)

As early as 1913, Herman Staats owned the Warwick.  He and his family, including son Charles P. Staats, lived in the  building, as well.  Among their tenants in the post-World War I years was James Daly, who worked as a watchman in the city's Dock Department.  Early on the morning of May 3, 1921, he saw a man on the West 58th Street Hudson River pier.  Joseph Collins was a 26-year-old soldier attached to the motor transport corps at the Army base in Brooklyn.  He had most likely been drinking all night and stumbled into the river.  "He was rescued by James Daly of 184 West 10th Street," reported The Evening World.

Fred Kern ran the saloon in January 1920 when Prohibition was enacted.  He did not significantly alter his business.  On August 2, 1922, The New York Times reported, "Sixteen saloons, three groceries, a bird store and a restaurant in Manhattan and the Bronx were raided yesterday by Prohibition Agents."  Among those arrested were "Fred Kern, owner, and Tony Terangelo, bartender, of a saloon at 230 West Fourth Street."

It ostensibly appeared that Fred Kern learned his lesson.  He converted his saloon to a funeral parlor.  Notices of funeral services routinely appeared in newspapers.  But, as it turned out, not all of those who visited were paying their respects to a deceased--they were partying in the back room speakeasy.  The ploy worked until September 9, 1923, when two Prohibition agents decided to inspect a hearse that pulled up to the curb.  The New York Times reported that the hearse, "was loaded with a half dozen kegs of beer."

Charles P. Staats and his wife, Marie, still lived here on February 21, 1939 when Charles died.  Among the properties Marie inherited was the Warwick and their country home in New Paltz, New York.

The former funeral home-speakeasy was converted to Lupe's Mexican Restaurant in 1933.  By the early 1940s, the store was divided into two.  The remodeling came with modern arcade show windows.  A barbershop and drugstore now shared the space.

Originally, a cornice ran below the second floor.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The turnover in ownership of the subsequent restaurant-bar frustrated food critics over the coming years.  On November 3, 1999, the New York Post's Cynthia Killian wrote, "The sign on the building is a reminder of times past and the triad of eateries that held sway over the years on the quirky little corner of West Fourth and West 10th.  First came Joe's, then Formerly Joe's and finally, as the sign says, 'Joe's...again.'"  Killian continued saying, "the lights are on, but Joe's not home any more."  In its place, Chow Bar & Grill had moved in.  

Similarly, the next year, on September 20, 2000, The New York Times critic Florence Fabricant groaned, "What was Joe's, then Formerly Joe's, then Joe's Again, then Chow Bar and Grill is now Chow Bar."

In 2010, Comida Mercado Fresca opened in the space, replaced the following year by the Mexican restaurant Empellón, owned by Alex Stupak.  The eatery remains in the space.

image via streeteasy.com

At some point, the storefront was bastardized with a brick veneer and faux Georgian doorway, and the red brick ironically given a coating of brick-red paint.  The intact residential entrance and the idiosyncratic brickwork above it, however, makes the Warwick pause-worthy.

many thanks to reader Frank Hosticka for suggesting this post

The Stubborn 1892 Holdout at 304 West 104th Street

 

Perhaps the most prolific architect working in the Upper West Side in the late 19th century was Clarence Fagan True.  Known for his often lighthearted take on historic styles, in 1891 he was hired by developers T. A. Squier and William E. Lanchantin to design ten upscale homes on West 104th Street--numbers 304 through 322--between West End Avenue and Riverside Drive.  

Construction was completed in 1892.  True created an architecturally harmonious row.  Sitting atop high English basements, each house was three stories tall with an attic.  Designed in a contemporary take on Romanesque, True visually connected them with stone railings that protected sleeping porches at the attic level.  The carved scrolls of the railing's identical panels were, in fact, back-to-back serpents.

The basement of the easternmost residence, 304 West 104th Street, was faced in rough cut stone.  A wing-walled stoop led to the arched entrance that sat beside a full-height, two-bay wide projecting section.  The strikingly spartan parlor level was faced in planar brownstone.  The second and third floors were clad in variegated beige Roman brick accented by brownstone quoins.  A shallow mansard was pierced with a single brick dormer.

The house initially saw a rapid turnover in owners.  In May 1893, William Lanchantin sold it to F. Milton Welch, who resold it the next month to Sarah J. Lozier.  Sarah sold the residence seven months later, in January 1894, to Moritz Arthur Gottlieb for $27,250.  The price would translate to about $1 million in 2026.

Moritz (who sometimes anglicized his name to Maurice) would share his new house with his brother, Dr. J. Adelphi Gottlieb.  Both were fascinating figures.  

Moritz and J. Adelphi Gottlieb were born in Vienna, Austria in 1856 and 1870 respectively.  Moritz was described by Herringshaw's Library of American Biography as, "artist, founder, antiquarian, author."  Around 1880 he became manager of the art department of Puck magazine.  A Masonic master, he wrote The History of the Rite of Memphis.  Herringshaw's recorded, "He is a noted collector of antiquities; a member of the Geographical Society; was treasurer of the Medico-Legal Laboratory; is a life member of the Society of Science, Letters and Art of London, England; and vice-president of its American branch."

Moritz Arthur Gottlieb Herringhaw's Library of American Biography, (copyright expired)

His brother was a physician, scientist and author.  Educated in the German-American Institute and the State University of New York, after receiving his medical degree J. Adelphi Gottlieb became director and professor of micro-medicine in the New York Medico-Legal Institute.  There he oversaw the "laboratory of scientific technology," where work known today as criminal forensics was done.  The American Public Health Association's listing of members gave his title as "professor [of] forensic medicine."

Dr. J. Adelphi Gottlieb Herringhaw's Library of American Biography, (copyright expired)

In 1900 the brothers established the National Volunteer Emergency-Service Medical Corps.  In its December issue that year, The Druggists Circular and Chemical Gazette reported, "This unwieldy title is the name of an organization with headquarters at 304 West One-Hundred-and-Fourth street...of which Surgeon-Major-General J. Adelphi Gottlieb, M. A., M. D., LL.D, is commandant director general."  

In forming the organization, the Gottliebs were preparing for the worst.  The article explained, "The object of the corps is to render prompt aid in time of pestilence, catastrophe, war, etc."  They were actively recruiting, "civilians, physicians, pharmacist, nurses and medical students," particularly in areas that would be prone to attack: "railroad centers, factory districts, mining regions, etc."

The medical corps was not the only organization headquartered in the brothers' home.  Like Moritz, J. Adelphi was highly involved in the Masons.  The World's 1903 Almanac and Encyclopedia included the Sovereign Sanctuary of Ancient and Primitive Freemasonry.  It listed J. Adelphi Gottlieb, as "legate of the M. I. Grand Master-General and Sovereign Sanctuary to Foreign Countries," and Moritz as "Deputy Grand Representative and Assistant Grand Examiner Mystic Temple."  The entry noted that the offices were at 304 West 104th Street.

A succinct announcement in The New York Times on February 24, 1904 said simply that 304 West 104th Street had been sold.  "The buyer will occupy the house," it said.

That buyer was Joseph Berndt.  Born in Austria in 1843, he arrived in New York with his family at the age of 10 on the ship Beethoven.  He married the 22-year-old Mary Ann Hattemer on June 21, 1877.  The couple had ten children, nine of whom moved into the West 104th Street house with their parents.  They ranged from Frederick, who was 9 years old, to Joseph Jr., who was 26.

Oscar was in the middle, age-wise.  He was 17 years old in 1904 and in October 3, 1908 was looking for a job.  He described himself in an ad in the New-York Tribune: "Young Man, 21, business school graduate, with office experience.  O. B. 304 West 104th st."

The parlor of 304 West 104th Street was the scene of Mary A. Berndt's low-key wedding to William Buryan on November 9, 1912.  The New York Herald reported, "Only relatives and a few intimate friends were asked to the ceremony."  Mary's sister, Julia, was her sole attendant.  The best man, Herman Linder, traveled from Germany for the occasion.

The following year, on December 28, 1913, the Berndts announced Julia's engagement to Frederick Walter Lohr.  The wedding took place in the house on the evening of March 26, 1914.  Eleanor was Julia's only attendant.  The New York Herald noted, "A reception and dancing followed the ceremony after which Mr. and Mrs. Lohr started for the South.  They will live in Boston."

Julia V. Berndt's engagement photograph.  The New York Times, January 25, 1914 (copyright expired)

Real estate operator Leon Sobel purchased 304 West 104th Street in September 1916.  President of the Cathedral Realty Company and the Leon Sobel Company, Leon would eventually be responsible for the erection of more than 400 buildings in New York City.  He filed plans for renovating the "private dwelling" in 1917.  The remodeling focused on updating the interiors, likely the installation of electricity and improved plumbing.

The house briefly became home to Herbert R. Snyder, who was likely closely acquainted with Leon Sobel.  Since 1902 he had been a real estate appraiser and operator. 

John McCaffery moved into the house in 1918.  From 1909 to 1912 he had worked as a traveling representative of the New York Journal.  He now worked for the Hearst organization.

The 42-year-old McCaffery found himself before a judge on September 2, 1918.  The next day The Daily Argus ran the headline, "Hearst Agent Is Accused By A Former Newsboy" and said that McCaffery was charged with threatening Benjamin Handler.  According to Handler, "Mr. McCaffery approached him and said something about 'I'll throw you downstairs; I'll beat your head off and murder you,' and a few other things," said the article.

As early as 1921, Everett Louis Hackes occupied 304 West 104th Street.  A 1914 graduate of Harvard, he initially used the house only for the summer.  The educator listed his winter address as "University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Michigan."  That position had ended by 1923, when the Harvard Alumni Bulletin nebulously announced that he "is doing literary work."

The ambiguous wording most likely was because Hackes was temporarily unemployed.  An advertisement in the May 17, 1924 issue of The Publishers' Weekly read:

Harvard Graduate--Ten years in teaching profession, specialist in French and German, knowledge of Spanish and Italian, desires connection with publishing house in New York.  Editorial work.  Hackes, 304 West 104th St., New York City.

And on November 13 that year, an advertisement in The Christian Science Monitor read: "Tutoring--Modern languages; Latin, history, literature; literary reading; classes or individual; university instructor. Hackes, 304 West 104th St., New York City."

Two decades earlier, in 1912, the houses at 300 and 302 West 104th Street were demolished for a Gaetan Ajello-designed apartment house.  The three houses on the opposite side of No. 304 were razed in 1926 for an apartment building designed by Schwartz & Gross.  The slice of Clarence F. True's row was now squashed between the two 20th century structures.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The Depression years saw unofficial apartments in the house.  Among the residents in 1930 was Lincoln Jose, a union carpenter; and in 1940 musician George Robert was listed here.

When the house was sold in April 1950, The New York Times described it as a "five-story building altered into nine small apartments."  That configuration lasted until a 1999 renovation resulted in two apartments per floor in the basement through third floors, and one in the attic level.

Looking somewhat lonely today, the 1892 survivor is little changed on the exterior.  

photographs by the author

The Lost J. & R. Lamb Decorators Bldg - 59 Carmine Street

 

A century of wear had worn down the brownstone steps when H. Shobbrook Collins took this photograph in March 1921 (cropped).  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

Reverend Rowan Desbrosses and his family rented the newly built house at 59 Carmine Street as early as 1827.  As was common in the early 19th century, when they moved out, they sold much of their furnishings to start over in their new home.  An announcement of the auction to be held here on August 30, 1828 listed:

...part of the furniture of a family breaking up housekeeping, consisting of carpets, chairs, settees, bureaus, bedsteads, looking glasses, &c., with a general assortment of kitchen furniture.  Also 1 superb mantle clock.

The house which the Desbrosses family left was typical of the scores of brick-faced, Federal-style homes that exploded in Greenwich Village following the yellow fever epidemic that broke out in New York City to the south in 1822.  Twenty-five-feet wide and two-and-a-half stories tall, its Flemish bond brickwork was trimmed in brownstone.  Two dormers would have pierced the peaked roof in the front and, likely, just one in the rear.

The Desbrosses family was, most likely, the first of a series of tenants who rarely remained more than a year or two.  Over the subsequent decades, a variety of renters occupied the house, including Joseph Spencer, who lived here in 1830.  He worked as a "city scaler," or a street sweeper.  

Around 1842, the Hiram Youngs family moved in.  Born in 1795, Youngs worked as a clerk (a nebulous term that ranged from a low level shop worker to a highly responsible position in an office or bank).  Early in their residency, on July 29, 1843, he and his wife, the former Sophia Perrine, had a son, Theophilus.  Their other children were Henry, Sophia, Elizabeth and Francis.  

Hiram Youngs died in 1851.  The family remained in the Carmine Street house until about 1856, when Sophia took her sons (Sophia and Francis were apparently married) to live on West 26th Street.

In 1857, the house was operated as a boarding house.  Among the residents were Arabella Willard, the widow of Dr. Moses Willard; Daniel R. Butts, who listed his profession as "merchant;" and John N. Edwards, "cider."  Edwards's cider factory was on South Street.  

Arabella's residency would be short-lived.  She died in the house on December 30, 1858 at the age of 90.  Her funeral was held in the parlor on January 3.

The Civil War personally affected several boarders here.  On August 19, 1863, the names of William Seers and J. M. Andrews were pulled in the Union Army's draft lottery, and on March 15, 1865, W. A. Cussad suffered the same fate.  (Happily for Cussad, the Confederate Army surrendered a month later.)

In 1867, brothers Joseph and Richard Lamb moved their decorating firm into the lower portion of the house.  They had established the firm in 1857, specializing in ecclesiastic work.  

Trow's New York City Director, 1870-71 (copyright expired)

Joseph George and Richard Lamb were born in 1833 and 1836 respectively.  Richard, who was unmarried, moved into the upper portion of the Carmine Street house with his brother's family.  Joseph had married Eliza Rollinson on April 19, 1855.  When they moved in, they had five children: Salom, Osborn Rennie, Charles Rollinson, Frederick Stymetz and Richard.  (Salom was ten years old and Richard was one.)

Richard married around 1870.  Tragically his wife soon died, likely in childbirth.  And on February 9, 1871, The New York Times reported that William Cokelet Lamb, "infant son of Richard Lamb," had died, too.  His funeral was held in the house that day.  (Richard would not remarry until 1904.)

By then, the Lamb brothers had established a nation-wide reputation and garnered comfortable personal incomes.  In 1872, they moved into side-by-side houses across the street--Joseph and his family into 84 Carmine Street and Richard into 86.

In May 1876, the Lambs hired the architectural firm of Jeans & Taylor to raise the attic of 59 Carmine Street to a full floor.  At the same time, they remodeled the facade to reflect J. & R. Lamb's ecclesiastical work.  The two parlor windows were replaced with a single, tripartite opening with Gothic-arches under a projecting hood topped with a crocket.  A steep, shingled hood with exposed struts protected the doorway.  Two of the second-floor openings were combined, its grouped windows separated by engaged Gothic-inspired columns.  Similar colonnettes, which sat upon foliate brackets, flanked both openings.  They supported overhanging shingled roofs.  Interestingly, Janes & Taylor gave the top floor windows paneled lintels, expected in the original Federal examples.  A neo-Grec cornice completed the renovations, which cost the Lambs the equivalent of $36,200 in 2026.

The house was flanked by horsewalks, or passages to the rear, making 59 Carmine Street free-standing.  photo by H. Shobbrook Collins  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

J. & R. Lamb created complete church interiors--pews, altars, murals and stained-glass windows, for instance.  

President James A. Garfield was assassinated in 1881.  His summer home was in Long Branch, New Jersey and on February 4, 1882, the New-York Tribune reported, "The Garfield Memorial Window that is to be placed in St. James's Protestant Episcopal Church, at Long Branch, by the parishioners of that church, was exhibited yesterday at the rooms of the designers and makers, J. & R. Lamb, No. 59 Carmine-st."  The Lambs designed the window to capture "the last act of public worship by the late President, for he attended the services at St. James's on Sunday, June 26."

The J. & R. Lamb business was such that in 1887, the brothers enlarged 59 Carmine Street with an addition to the rear.  Even that would not be sufficient, and in 1893 they expanded into a second location at 325 Sixth Avenue.  

By that time, Joseph's children were actively involved in the firm.  Charles was an architect, chiefly designing church buildings;  his wife, Ella Condie Lamb, was an artist and stained-glass designer; Frederick was an artist and designer; and Osborn worked in the "furniture" department. 

Charles Rollinson Lamb's architectural talents are reflected in this reredos.  Year Book of the Architectural league of New York, 1904 (copyright expired)

A bizarre incident occurred in the winter of 1899.  A package was delivered to 59 Carmine Street addressed "to Richard Lamb, of the firm of J. & R. Lamb, church furnishers and decorators," as reported by the New York Journal and Advertiser.  Inside were cough drops.  An identical package was received by Max Stark, the proprietor of the Cosmopolitan Cafe on Second Avenue.

Both men were suspicious and on March 22, the New York Journal and Advertiser reported that Captain McClusky of the Detective Bureau, "had forwarded the cough drops...to Professor Witthaus to be analyzed."  The New York Herald reported on April 2, "The candy on examination proved to have been sprinkled with yellow prussiate of potash."  

The perpetrator was not difficult to find.  Charles Freeman, a 39-year-old peddler, "notified a newspaper that the candy was poisoned and gave the addresses...to whom he had sent the stuff," said the New York Herald.  Freeman was arrested "charged with being a suspicious person, and seems to be insane."

This Kansas City church window was designed by Frederick Stymetz Lamb in 1903.  Year Book of the Architectural league of New York, 1904 (copyright expired)

Joseph George Lamb died in 1898 at the age of 64, and Richard died on March 24, 1909 at the age of 74.  That year the firm moved exclusively into the Sixth Avenue building and leased 59 Carmine Street to builder Edward Jeans.  It was rented by several subsequent firms, including Pasqualla Lobasso & Co. in 1919, and the Western Parquet Flooring Company the following year.

The Lamb family sold 59 Carmine Street to Anthony Ferdano in February 1921.  It and the house next door at 61 Carmine were demolished to make way for a six-story apartment building completed in 1926.

image via loopnet.com

The 1861 Claudius B. Conant House - 25 Stuyvesant Street

 

The regimented grid of the 1811 Commissioners Plan was interrupted by the diagonally-running Stuyvesant Street, originally a lane created by the Stuyvesant family to separate their two farms, Bouwerij #1 and #2.  On September 16, 1854, Matthias Banta purchased the triangular point between Stuyvesant Street and East 10th Street for development.

Generally attributed to James Renwick, Jr., Banta's five-story-and-basement Anglo-Italianate homes were completed in 1861.  They varied from 16- to 32-feet-wide and (because of the triangular plot) their depths ranged from 16- to 48-feet.  Among the narrowest was 25 Stuyvesant Street.  Like its neighbors, its rusticated brownstone basement and first floors sat below four stories of red brick trimmed in stone.  The tall, a stone bandcourse connected the fully-arched windows of the second floor.  Each of the architrave frames of the upper openings were treated slightly differently.

Matthias Banta retained ownership of the house, leasing it originally to Margaret Madden who operated it as a boarding house.  On August 20, 1861, she advertised:

Board--At 25 Stuyvesant Street.  Second Floor of the new English basement house, a front and back Parlor, unfurnished.  Also a gentleman and his wife or two single gentlemen can be accommodated with Board.  House has all the modern improvements.  Convenient to cars and stages.

Madden's venture was relatively short-lived.  By 1863, two Fay families occupied the house.  Signourney Webster Fay was a merchant, operating at 48 Park Place, and Emery Brigham Fay was a broker.  Signourney and Emery were cousins, their fathers Nahum and Dexter Fay, respectively, were brothers.  

Born in 1814 in Southborough, Massachusetts, Emery married Almira Allton Adams in 1838.  They had five grown children.  Signourney was significantly younger than his cousin.  Emery was born in Boston in 1836 and he married Delia Almira Fay in 1860.  

The Civil War interrupted the Fays' residency here.  Signourney enlisted in the Union Army in March 1863.  Emery and Almira moved to East 7th Street and, presumably, Delia went along with them.  Upon Signorney's return from the war, he and Delia moved to Long Island.

The house was leased by the extended Claudius Buchanan Conant family.  Born in 1819, his wife was the former Elizabeth Trumbull Mills.  Living with the couple were their son, Clarence Mortimer; their daughters Elizabeth J. and Elizabeth Ann, and her husband John Richards Weed, and their son, Louis Mortimer.  

In 1866, both Clarence and Louis attended the College of the City of New York--Clarence as a junior and Louis in the Introductory Class.  Emily attended Normal College and in 1870 taught in that facility's "model school."

Also living in what must have been snug conditions was Alice Cunningham Fletcher.  In their commentary to Alice's memoir, Life Among The Indians, Joanna C. Scherer and Raymond J. DeMallie explains, "During her adolescence, family problems, the details of which have gone unrecorded, prompted her to leave home and take a position as a governess to the children of a wealthy hardware merchant, Claudius Buchanan Conant."

With the Conant children grown, Alice remained with the family, which essentially acted as her patron.  Joan T. Mark, in her A Stranger in Her Native Land, Alice Fletcher and the American Indians, writes, "Alice Fletcher's years as a governess came to an end around 1870, when she was in her early thirties.  With Claudius Conant, her former employer, still paying her a substantial salary, she [lived] at 25 Stuyvesant Street on Manhattan and set out to explore the cultural life of New York City.

While living here, Alice became highly involved with women's causes.  An article in the New York Herald on October 15, 1873, reported on the Woman's Congress, which the newspaper sarcastically said was composed of "about 120 'earnest' ladies, upon whom 'missions' have devolved."  The article noted, "The secretary of the Woman's Congress is Miss C. Fletcher, No. 25 Stuyvesant street."

While still living here, she turned to anthropology and ethnology, making extensive trips to the West to study Native American culture.  

Alice Cunningham Fletcher with Chief Joseph at the Nez Percé Lapwai Reservation in Idaho in 1889.  The man on the left is James Stuart, Alice's interpreter.  from the collection of the Smithsonian Institute.

Alice C. Fletcher became one of the most influential anthropologists studying Native Americans and helped write the Daws Act of 1887, which eliminated reservations and distributed communal land to individual households.

Claudius Buchanan Conant died in 1877.  By 1880, Clarence Mortimer Conant was a physician with his medical office in the house.  The family left in 1887 and the Banta family leased it to a proprietor who operated it as a rooming house.  A succinct advertisement in The Sun on August 1, 1888 offered, "To Let--Newly furnished rooms, suitable for one or two, near 3d av. and 9th st. elevated station."

By the turn of the century, the neighborhood had decidedly declined.  No. 25 Stuyvesant Street was leased by Flanagan Bros., the offices of which were on West 34th Street.  They sublet it to Annie Russell, a.k.a. Sadie Brown, who purportedly rented rooms.  Her operation was much more than that, however.

Living here in 1901 was 21-year-old Alma Cirnicer.  She worked closely with Meyer Rosenthal, who ran the Rosedale Hotel at 395 Bowery, to fleece naive "customers."  That summer Kai Bronsted, a lawyer from Copenhagen, had been visiting friends in Brooklyn.  On August 26, his last night in New York, he "determined to inspect the Bowery," as he explained to police.  He said he met Alma "and accompanied her to the Rosedale Hotel, where he was robbed of $59," reported The Evening World.

Bronsted complained to Rosenthal, who pretended to help.  They found Alma at Third Street and the Bowery where she handed him his empty wallet.  As they were arguing, Detective Penz happened by and arrested Alma and Rosenthal.

At the time, the house where Alma Cirnicer lived was on the police investigators' watch list.  A 1901 police report listed 25 Stuyvesant Street among "suspicious houses of prostitution."  And on March 7, 1902, Edward Bicherer signed a deposition saying he had visited 25 Stuyvesant Street several times and found that "Annie Russell did unlawfully keep a place...for persons to visit for unlawful sexual intercourse, and for lewd, obscene and indecent purposes."

Annie Russell was charged for running a disorderly house...

and there unlawfully procure and permit as well men and women of evil name and fame and of dishonest conversation, to visit, frequent and come together for unlawful sexual intercourse and for purpose of prostitution and there unlawfully and willfully did permit said men and women of evil name and fame there to be and remain drinking, dancing, fighting, disturbing the peace, whoring and misbehaving themselves.

On March 29, 1902, Flanagan Bros. received a letter from the Police Department that said in part, "You are hereby notified that your tenant, Sadie Brown, in the premises 25 Stuyvesant Street, was convicted of the crime of keeping and maintaining a disorderly house."  The letter demanded that if the tenant was not evicted immediately, the matter would be forwarded to the District Attorney.

The threat was successful.  Flanagan Bros. did not renew its lease and in March 1904, Emil Neufeld took over.  His roomers, many of them German immigrants, were hard working and respectable.

A roomer leans in the doorway of 25 Stuyvesant Street in 1941.  At the left is the 1803 Stuyvesant-Fish house.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The estate of Eliza A. Banta sold the house in 1925 to Jacob Bellak, who continued to rent rooms.  It quickly became the scene of a disturbing incident.  In October 1926, the body of Catherine Braum was found "hanging from the ceiling of a room at 25 Stuyvesant Street," according to The New York Times.  The death was reported as a suicide, but neighbors thought there was foul play involved.  They insisted that the 65-year-old had been poisoned and her body staged as a suicide.  Faced with mounting pressure, the District Attorney's Office ordered that Braum's body be exhumed for an autopsy.  (Frustratingly, newspapers did not report the findings.)

Another shocking incident occurred on April 2, 1939.  That morning, the Rev. Francis X. Quinn of the Church of the Guardian Angel was invited to a housewarming party at Eighth Avenue and 22nd Street.  "Instead of going to this party in a limousine I found myself traveling in a police car," he told reporters later.

At 25 Stuyvesant Street, 23-year-old John Naumo was holding an elderly couple "as hostages in an effort to stave off capture by police," as reported by the Long Island Star-Journal.  Quinn said he "arrived at the apartment an unwelcome visitor."

Naumo pointed his gun at the priest and said, "Come in father--with your hands up."  The desperate suspect and the cool-headed cleric talked at length.  Finally, said the newspaper, "After more than an hour of drama and suspense, during which the bandit asked the priest to get a glass and a bottle of beer from the icebox, the priest induced the bandit to surrender."

Through it all, 25 Stuyvesant Street was never converted to apartments.  When it was offered for sale in 2011, realtor photographs revealed that the 1861 interiors were remarkably intact.

A photograph of the parlor in 2011 shows an original marble Italianate mantel and intricate ceiling plasterwork.  via Brown Harris and Stevens realty

The house was purchased by award winning journalist and author Nina Munk.  Her articles have appeared in The New Yorker, The New York Times, and Vanity Fair among others.  She sold it in 2016 for $6.5 million.  

photographs by the author