The 1852 Charles C. Buxton Grocery - 380 Bleecker Street

 

In 1850, Charles C. Buxton and his family lived at 155 Amos Street, near his grocery store on Bleecker Street.  (Amos Street would be renamed West 10th Street in 1857.)  He was also an Inspector of the Eighth Ward Public Schools.  Buxton would have to relocate his business in 1851, when that building and four others were razed.  On the site, five four-story house-and-store buildings, which would later be numbered 372 to 380, were completed in 1852.  Arthur H. M. Haddock owned the new building that would be 380 Bleecker Street.

Almost identical to the others, it was faced in orange-red brick above the storefront.  Its design straddled the Greek Revival and Italianate styles, the former represented in the residential entrance with its sidelights, narrow pilasters and tripartite transom, and in the flat brownstone lintels and sills.  The cornice, on the other hand, was purely Italianate, with multiple scrolled corbels.

Haddock apparently had negotiated with Buxton prior to the demolition, and upon the building's completion, Buxton's grocery store moved into the ground floor.  (Haddock ran a cigar business on West Street and lived on West 11th Street with his business partner, William J. Haddock, most likely his father or brother.)

Living above the grocery store in 1853 was the family of Theron Losee, who was in the flour and produce business on Broad Street.  Born in Beekman, New York in 1813, Theron married Nancy Brown on September 5, 1842.  In 1853 their three children Celia E., Francis, and Theron Jr., were nine, seven, and three years old, respectively.  Also living with the family were Irish-born servants Margaret Sheron and Margaret Rogers.

By 1857, the upper portion of the house was occupied by three working class families.  Christian Hitzer was a shoemaker; Patrick McKenna was a smith, and John Richard worked in a stone yard.  

Charles C. Buxton operated his grocery store here at least through 1858.  As early as 1864, William T. Thompson's stationery store occupied the space.  Living upstairs that year were John Fling, who did not list a profession, suggesting he was retired; Baptiste Lamargot, a tailor; and P. J. Troy and his wife, Ann, and Ann's teenaged son, John Gilheeny.  

John Gilheeny went south to fight for the Union and, like the approximately 500,000 other soldiers who became victims of dysentery, typhoid, pneumonia, and malaria, the 19-year-old fell ill in Virginia.  On December 30, 1864, the New York Herald reported that he died "after a short but severe illness."  His body was returned to New York and his funeral was held in the Troys' rooms here.

The post-Civil War years saw a rapid turnover in commercial tenants.  In 1870, Ann M. Dolbeer ran her fancy goods store here; in 1873, Margaret and Susannah Mossman opened their "skirts" shop; and in 1876 the William Everett & Co. dairy store, was here.

That business was operated by John W. and William Everett.  At least one employee, Joel K. Schultz, who lived on Leroy Street, worked in the store.  It would remain into the early 1890s, by which time the business had been renamed Everett & Horton.

Living in rooms upstairs in 1895 was the Kay family.  Walter J. Kay, who was 17 years old that year, had been working for an embroidery factory making $3 a week (about $115 in 2026 terms), but he lost his job that spring.  At around 9:30 on the night of April 4, 1895, a policeman came across Walter sitting on the stoop of 63 Greenwich Avenue, apparently dozing.  He shook the teen by the shoulders and told him to move along.

According to Officer Gies, Walter "feebly protested, saying 'Don't,'" and told him that he had taken poison.  Walter told him that because he had lost his job, his mother had ordered him out of the house "because he didn't earn more wages," as reported by The Evening World.  Four days after leaving 380 Bleecker Street, he swallowed "a dose of oxalic acid," said the article.

Walter was taken to St. Vincent's Hospital where his stomach was pumped.  The New York Herald said on April 5, "He has a chance for his life."  A reporter visited 380 Bleecker Street where the Kays gave a much different version of the story.  They confirmed that they had not seen him since Monday, but said "they had no trouble of any kind with him, but that he was a very stubborn boy."  Mrs. Kay was even more direct, telling The Evening World, "he is a bad and wayward boy."

Thomas F. Himmelman lived here as early as 1901.  He was treasurer of The American Association of Isaac Pitman Shorthand Writers, established in 1895 "by a number of enthusiastic followers of Isaac Pitman," according to Pitman's Journal in 1912.  Himmelman was, as well, an avid reader.  He routinely wrote to The New York Times seeking hard-to-find works.  On November 30, 1901, for instance, he wrote, "I wish to obtain a copy of a recitation entitled 'The Dandy Fifth.'  It is a recitation pertaining to labor."  Another letter printed in The Times on February 7, 1903 read, "Will some kind reader inform me where I can obtain a copy of a very comical recitation entitled 'Sweet Kate Paoir,' and another, entitled 'The Continental Ghost'?"  The next year, in October, he asked, "Who is the author of a poem entitled 'Uncle,' and where can I obtain a copy of it?"

As early as 1909, the Crist & Herrick real estate office occupied the ground floor.  Interestingly, the partners became temporary custodians of a Revolutionary relic in 1911.  On January 13, The New York Times reported on the demolition of an old house at 102 Christopher Street.  Workers dismantling the foundation discovered "an old milestone inscribed in the large letters of the type used a century or more ago," said the article.  The milestone puzzled historians as well as the owners of the property, the Buxton estate.  (Whether this Buxton family was related to Charles C. Buxton is unclear, but tantalizing.)

The librarian of the New-York Historical Society was perplexed by the inscription, saying:

What camp is meant?  Was it one of the camps of the Revolutionary War of the Continental or British troops, or does it refer to some popular roadhouse frequented by the downtown residents on their drives up the old Bloomingdale and Kings Bridge roads?

The New York Times remarked, "The stone is in the real estate office of Crist & Herrick, 380 Bleecker Street, agents for the Buxton estate.

Thomas L. Himmelman was still writing to The New York Times in 1915, but one letter had nothing to do with books, poems or recitations.  It had to do with bicycling.  He wrote in part:

In this huge city of ours there are hundreds of men, like myself, chained to an office all day, who have little incentive to take proper physical exercise.  We have no funds for an auto, cannot keep a horse, and even walking alone becomes insipid.  Consequently, we hang around the house in the evenings and on Sundays or visit the theaters or "movies" or amuse ourselves in other sedentary ways.

He suggested the formation of a bicycle group.  "The object is merely to enable decent fellows to get together for a pleasant spin around the suburbs.  It may save them from infesting street corners, saloons, or poolrooms," he said.

Paul A. Soran lived here in 1919 when he went to Coney Island on July 4.  He went into the surf and did not return.  Three days later, The New York Times reported that his body had been recovered.

At 2:30 on the morning of September 3, 1922, a patrolman noticed resident William Shea enter a building at 312 Spring Street.  The New York Times reported, "He looked through an opening in the doorway and saw Shea standing near a bag.  The man talking with Shea ran upstairs when the patrolman approached."  When the policeman opened the bag, he found four quarts of whisky.  Shea was dumbfounded, said he did not own the bag, and knew nothing about it.  His plea worked.  When he faced Magistrate W. Bruce Cobb the next morning, he was discharged.

A plumbing firm occupied the ground floor space in the early 1940s.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In addition to handling the Buxton estate, Crist & Herrick was the realtors for the Arthur H. M. Haddock estate.  When the firm sold 380 Bleecker Street for Haddock's descendants Dorothy Hand, L. Estelle Clark and Florence Nickerson in February 1946, The New York Times remarked, "The property was held by the one family for ninety-five years."

For years in the mid-1950s throughout the 1960s, the storefront was home to Reubert Piano Co.  Its advertisements offered, "Reconditioned pianos for sale, tuning and expert repairing."

Reubert Piano Co. was supplanted around 1976 by odd bedfellows--the 380 Gallery and 380 Xerox Copy Center.  The gallery staged exhibitions, like the portrait sculptures of motion picture stars by Ron Kron in August 1977.  The copy center half of the space advertised, "color copies & slide enlargements" that year.  The unexpected, symbiotic coexistence continued throughout the 1980s.

Kitschen opened in the space in July 1995.  In reporting the opening, The Villager explained, "They sell kitchen accessories from the 1950s."  The vintage appliance shop remained for years.  By the early 2000s, a Ralph Lauren boutique occupied the space, and in 2014 a Robert Graham store moved in.  A Leset boutique currently occupies the shop.

photographs by the author

The William and Martha Hutcheson Mansion - 1211 Park Avenue

 

On June 29, 1889, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that architects Flemer & Koehler had filed plans for eight stone-fronted homes on Park Avenue, wrapping around the northeast corner of 94th Street.  The project for developer Edward T. Smith would cost $112,000, or just under $500,000 per house in 2026 terms.

Quickly J. A. Henry Flemer and his partner, V. Hugo Koehler, would be at work filling in the remainder of the block.  Completed in 1889, the two projects created a harmonious blockfront of Queen Anne-style mansions.

1211 Park Avenue originally looked much like its architectural siblings to the left.

The Weil family occupied the 20-foot-wide 1211 Park Avenue as early as 1894.  By May 1922, when Fredericka Weil sold the house to William A. Hutcheson and his wife, the former Martha Brookes, its stoop had already been removed for the widening of the avenue.  

While the address was still fashionable, the home's Victorian design was not.  The Hutchesons hired architect William L. Bottomley to transport it from the 19th to the 20th century.  The mansion was enlarged to the rear, the brick-and-brownstone facade removed, and a stuccoed neo-Georgian front installed.   

The two entrances--the main and service doorways--flanked two windows on the ground level.  Directly above, the first floor, or piano nobile, was dominated by dignified French windows below a Georgian-inspired broken pediment and urn.  The fully arched windows of the top floor sat within shallow recesses.  A handsome stone balustrade crowned the understated molded cornice.

image via NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

William Anderson Hutcheson was vice president and actuary of the Mutual Life Insurance Company.  He and Martha were married in 1911 and the following year their only child, Martha Chipman (known as "Little Martha") was born.  

Martha Brookes Hutcheson was born in New York City in 1871 and spent her summers at the family's country home in Vermont.  It was possibly there that she was first drawn to gardening.

She entered the newly organized New York School of Applied Design for Women in 1893, and in the latter part of the decade toured the gardens of France, Italy and England.  Back home, she entered the newly established landscape architecture program at MIT.  By the time she met William, she had established herself as a prominent landscape architect, designing the grounds of Newburyport, the estate of Frederick Moseley; Alice Mary Longfellow's gardens in Cambridge, Massachusetts; and the Welwyn and Poplar Hill estates on Long Island.

Careers for females, especially for society women, most often ended with marriage.  And, so, in 1911 Martha retired from active practice.  She now turned her attention to the couple's 100-acre country estate, Merchiston Farm near Gladstone, New Jersey.  A working farm in the 18th century, Martha transformed its grounds into an "outstanding example of natural and classic landscape design," according to the Morris County Heritage Commission later.

Martha Brookes Hutcheson, from the collection of the Morris County Park Commission

The winter social season of 1930-31 was "Little Martha's" debut.  On August 20, 1930, the Chicago Tribune reported, "Mr. and Mrs. William Anderson Hutcheson will give a dinner dance Dec. 6 to introduce their daughter, Miss Martha Chipman Hutcheson."  The week following that event, the Hutchesons held a dinner-dance at the Colony Club.

Now introduced, Martha's name appeared in the society columns.  On February 6, 1932, The Evening Post reported, "Mr. and Mrs. William A. Hutcheson and their daughter, Miss Martha C. Hutcheson, entertained at dinner at their home, 1211 Park Avenue, later taking their guests to the Ritz-Carlton."

In 1935, Martha Brookes Hutcheson was made a fellow in the American Society of Landscape Architects, just the third woman to be so named.

An accomplished pianist, Martha Chipman Hutcheson was married to Charles McKim Norton (who rarely used his first name) in a garden ceremony at Merchiston Farm in the summer of 1939. 

The newlyweds in the gardens of Merchiston Farm.  from the collection of the Morris County Park Commission

In October 1943, the Hutchesons sold 1211 Park Avenue to Dorothy O. Hegler.  Her ownership was short-lived.  On July 24, 1945, The New York Times reported that Dr. George Hoppin Humphreys 2d had purchased the property.

Born on November 22, 1903, Humphreys was the son of John Stanford Humphreys, a professor of the department of architecture at Harvard.  He married Edith Sturgis in 1928 and they had three children, John Sanford, Cornelia, and Edith.

Humphreys graduated from Harvard University in 1925 and from its medical school in 1929.  He began his career as an intern at New York Presbyterian Hospital in 1930, becoming a pioneer in pediatric and chest surgery procedures.  The year after moving into 1211 Park Avenue, he was named chairman of the faculty of the hospital's College of Physicians and Surgeons.  The New York Times would later recall, "Dr. Humphreys earned an international reputation for the innovations he brought to operations of the esophagus."

By the 1980s, 1211 Park Avenue was home to Edwin and Mary Michael Gifford.  (Mary went professionally by her middle name.)  The couple, who were married in 1958, were partners in Gifford-Wallace, Inc., a public relations consulting firm.  Their country home was in Amagansett, Long Island.  They had three children, Mary-Elizabeth, Tierney, and Edward Jr.

The Giffords' work in the theater, government and media resulted in glittering entertainments in the Park Avenue mansion.  The East Hampton Star in 1988 remarked, "New York magazine once profiled the couple entertaining friends from the worlds of theater and journalism at late-night suppers."

Michael Gifford suffered a fatal heart attack at the age of 53 in May 1988.

Lindley Welsh Tiers and his wife, the former Sarah Morgan Gardner next occupied 1211 Park Avenue.  Born in 1911, Tiers was a nationally ranked tennis player in the late 1930s.  Sarah died at the age of 80 on April 20, 1996 and Lindley died two years later, on July 29, 1998, at 86.

The mansion was recently placed on the market for $8.5 million, the realtor calling it a "five story sensation."

photographs by the author

The 1874 Bloomingdale Turnverein - 341 West 47th Street

 

photograph by Carole Teller

Substantial German immigration into New York City began in the 1830s and continued to grow.  In the 1850s, around 800,000 Germans arrived, and while many dispersed to rural areas like Pennsylvania or Ohio, thousands settled in Manhattan's Lower East Side, creating Kleindeutschland, or Little Germany.  A smaller group, however, established a community further north in Hell's Kitchen, just below Bloomingdale Square.

In 1850, a group of German men organized the Bloomingdale Turnverein, or Bloomingdale Gymnastics Club.  They established the club in a vintage building at 341 West 47th Street.  In addition to being an athletic venue, the Bloomingdale Turnverein was (perhaps more importantly) a social club.  It routinely hosted outings and picnics in the summer months, and receptions and balls in the winter.

On June 28, 1869, the New-York Tribune reported that the gymnasium at 341 West 47th Street had been deemed unsafe, noting "Bloomingdale Turnverein, owner."  Apparently, adequate repairs were made to the structure, but two years later, on September 20, 1871, The New York Times reported, "The Bloomingdale Turnverein has recently established a boys' Turn school, and contemplates the erection of a new Turn hall."  (A Turn school-and-hall was a place where German youths could learn and play sports, similar to The Y today.)

The old structure was demolished and a four-story-and-basement, brick-faced edifice erected.  Looking much more like a rowhouse than a clubhouse, its transitional design straddled the Greek Revival and Italianate styles.  Above the stoop, Doric pilasters flanked the arched entrance and upheld an entablature and molded cornice that hailed visitors in German.

The openings originally wore molded lintels, and miniature brackets upheld the sills.  The fascia of the foliate-bracketed cornice announced "BL. Turnverein" and a parapet reflected the date of the ground-breaking: 1873.

In 1940, the window details had been shaved off, but most of the 1874 elements survived.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In January 1873, as construction progressed, the Bloomingdale Turnverein released its annual report.  Although having only 150 members, its capital was $12,000, or about three-quarters of a million in 2026 dollars.  "The Turn school, established by the society, is attended by 175 boys and 38 girls," reported the New-York Tribune.

The building was designed to generate rental income, as well.  In addition to the Bloomingdale Turnverein's clubrooms and gymnasium, the structure held several meeting rooms.  They would be rented by a variety of organizations over the coming years--political, social and ethnic groups, for instance--that used them as their clubrooms on specific weeknights, or for one-time meetings.

On March 29, 1874, an advertisement in the New York Dispatch offered:

To Let--An Elegantly Furnished Lodge-Room (with parlors attached), in the New Hall of the Bloomingdale Turnverein, No. 341 West Forty-seventh street.  Inspection invited.

The halls immediately became popular.  On February 25, 1876, for instance, the New-York Tribune reported, "The XVIIth Assembly District Republican Association held their regular monthly meeting last evening at No. 341 West Forty-seventh-st."  A resolution that night reflected the substantial German presence in the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood.  It said in part:

It would be wise to admit the President of the German Republican Central Committee, and the Chairman of the German Republican Central Committee, as ex-officio members of the Central Committee of the Regular Republican Association.

And on June 29, 1884, the New York Dispatch announced that the Masonic Park Lodge No. 516 "meets first and third Tuesdays, at Turn Hall, No. 341 West Forty-seventh st."

A major holiday for German immigrants was Pfingst-Montag, or Whit Monday.  On May 22, 1877, the New-York Tribune reported, "The celebration of Pfingster began Saturday at noon, when all German workmen stopped work and prepared to take part in the religious observance of Sunday.  Monday and Tuesday are given entirely to holiday amusements, such as picnics, parades, festivals, balls, and athletic exhibitions."  The article said, "The Bloomingdale Turnverein paraded through the streets in the upper part of the city in the morning, and then enjoyed a picnic at Lion Park."

The annual Pfingst-Montag celebrations were always covered by the press.  Five years later, on May 30, 1882, the New-York Tribune reported on the festivities held at Jones's Woods.  "There were athletic contests and exhibitions of all kinds by members of the New-York and the Bloomingdale Turn-Vereins," said the article.  "A band of wind instruments played continually while the games and contests were going on, and in the dancing pavilion an orchestra furnished music to the crowds of young people who danced all the afternoon and until late at night."

Rooms for socials like this one by the Victoria Coterie were rented on a one-time basis.  The New York Globe, January 27, 1883 (copyright expired)

On November 29, 1887, the New York Herald announced that the West 47th Street building had "become inadequate" for the Bloomingdale Turnverein, "owing to the increase in members and scholars."  The club had raised funds to obtain a "larger and more suitable building."  

Another German organization, the New York Central Schuetzen Corps (or shooting club), took over 341 West 47th Street.  The group embarked on a major trip in the spring of 1890.  Forest and Stream reported on May 22, "The New York Central Schuetzen Corps, which will start for the great international shooting festival on June 3, held a farewell meeting and banquet at its rooms, 341 West Forty-seventh street, on the evening of May 14."  That international event was being held in Berlin.  "Their departure will be celebrated by a big all-day German picnic in Hoboken," said the article.

Like the Turnverein, the Schuetzen Corps leased lodge rooms.  Among those renting space in the early 1890s were the Ornamental Plasters' and Shop Hands' Society, the Colored Republican Club, and the West Side Athletic Club.  The latter group held "a stag" on November 11, 1893.  The event included boxing, including "a special bout of six rounds between Harry Martin and Jack Russell."

The changing demographics of Hell's Kitchen was reflected in Irish groups taking space here in the early years of the 20th century.  The New York Philo-Celtic Society began leasing space beginning around 1906.  That year, on April 24, The New York Times reported that it "will produce, in Gaelic...'An Posadh' at the Lexington Avenue Opera House."  The play (the English title of which is The Marriage) "shows the Irish people in their everyday life," said the article.

The date of the ground breaking and "BL. TURNVEREIN" were announced atop the building. via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Society's staging of the play in Gaelic was notable.  Determined that Irish roots and culture were not diluted in their new country, it held language classes here.  On October 30, 1909, The Gaelic American reported, "The classes for the study of Irish, which are under very competent teachers, will be held all during the winter on Sundays from 3 to 6 P.M. and on Thursdays from 8 to 10 P.M. at 341 West Forty-seventh street."

Also renting a lodge room at the time were the County Mayo Men's Association and the Irish Counties Athletic Union.  There was a bit of scandal within the former in the spring of 1907.  The group had held a ball the previous St. Patrick's Day.  A review of the books showed that $300 of ticket sales, which were received by the secretary, John T. McIntyre, was not accounted for.  Now, treasurer Peter J. Delaney, discovered that McIntire had collected $30 in dues from members, but never turned it in.  (The total embezzlement would equal nearly $11,500 in 2026 terms.)  On April 9, 1907, McIntire was arrested and jailed.

When Theodore Stucky purchased the building, he renamed it Unity Hall.  While groups continued to lease space as their clubrooms, Stucky gradually wooed theatrical concerns as the nearby Times Square increasingly became the center of Manhattan's theater district.

Stucky suggested that lodge rooms could be used as rehearsal halls.  Masonic Standard, June 3, 1916 (copyright expired)

While Irish groups continued to gather here (in 1919, for instance, The Loyal Orange Order of Protestantism held its meetings here), increasingly theatrical groups rented space.

On June 14, 1919, for instance, The Moving Picture World reported, "The Film Social Club, the membership of which is made up of the operating forces of the various film exchanges, gave its first dance and vaudeville entertainment at Unity Hall, 341 West Forty-seventh street, New York on Thursday evening, May 29."  

Meetings held here two months later were more serious.  Actors nationwide went on strike.  On August 19, 1919, a meeting of the Actors Equity Association was held here that "may result in the mediation of the actors' strike," said the New York Herald.  

Theodore William Stucky was described by the New York Herald as being "identified with the activities of the French colony in this city for many years."  The newspaper said he "owned considerable property on the West Side, among his holdings being Unity Hall...the scene of rehearsals for many big Broadway productions."

Stucky was not merely taking advantage of the building's proximity to the entertainment district, he was fully entrenched in the theater.  He organized the Cercle d'Art Francaise (French Art Circle) and was a major financial supporter of the Operetta Francaise.  (The New York Herald clarified, "Mr. Stucky, despite his associations here, was not a Frenchman.  He was born in Switzerland.")  

In the fall of 1920, Cercle d'Art Francaise produced the opera La Mascotte.  The 16-member cast played in New England and in Washington D.C., but when they opened in Worcester, Massachusetts, it failed and the entire cast and crew were stranded.

Resultantly, Stucky was greatly concerned about finances.  A bachelor, he lived on Riverside Drive, but his office and that of the Cercle d'Art Francaise were at 341 West 47th Street.  The building's superintendent, Frederick Carter, and his family lived in an apartment, most likely in the basement.  On February 5, 1921, Stucky saw Carter's five-year-old daughter in the hallway.  The New York Times reported, "Mr. Stucky picked up the child and, after kissing her several times, began to weep.  'My darling,' he said to the child, 'I am glad you haven't the worries I have.'"

He had told Carter that he had been threatened by creditors and "feared for his life."  At around 4:00 on the afternoon of February 5, Catherine Valo noticed a man pacing back and forth near a bench on which she was sitting at the foot of the Queensboro Bridge.  Shortly afterward, she saw the man climb the railing and jump.

Valo ran to a policeman.  At the point when the man jumped, he found a coat containing "several papers," according to The New York Times.  One was a card printed, "Theodore W. Stucky" on the front.  On the other side, in French, was written, "My Dear Friends: I am sick and am going to end my life."

Irish groups continued to rent spaces in Unity Hall.  An announcement in The Advocate on October 25, 1924 read: "Reception and Dance of the Cork, Kerry and Limerick Boys at Unity Hall, 341 West 47th St., near 9th Ave.  Every Saturday Night.  American and Irish dancing."  And nearly three decades later, on May 30, 1953, the newspaper reported on the "largely attended meeting of the Cork Ladies in the Irish Counties Athletic Union Hall, 341 West 47th St."

In 1942, the Theatre Showcase opened here in one of the former lodge rooms that had previously been converted to a wedding chapel.  On March 20, 1942, Saroyan's one-act play Across the Board on Tomorrow Morning opened.  Four months later, on July 14, The Goldfish Bowl premiered.

In the late 1960s, composer Harvey Schmidt and his partner and lyricist Tom Jones converted the Theatre Showcase to Portfolio Studio.  Schmidt and Jones, best known perhaps for The Fantasticks, were also the creators of musicals like I Do, I Do; 110 in the Shade; and Celebration.  On June 7, 1970, The New York Times said, "they have set up their own theater, Elizabethan stage, dressing rooms and offices."

On December 6, 1974, the newspaper reported that Schmidt and Jones "will present 'Portfolio Revue,' the first of their four original musicals making the team's workshop theater, a converted brownstone, a public showcase."  Four months later, on April 10, 1975, the newspaper announced, "The new Tom Jones-Harvey Schmidt musical, 'Philemon,' reopens tonight...for a six-week run at the team's Portfolio Studio."

Portfolio Studio made way for The 47th Street Playhouse the following year.  On July 15, 1976, In Dublin's Fair City, a revue, opened in the remodeled venue.

The end of theatrical performances here came in 1982 when the building was purchased and emptied in anticipation of conversion to residential purposes.  At the time, police were dealing with a rash of pipe bombings.  In 1981, there were 12 non-terrorist and 11 terrorists explosions.  The next spring, on May 13, 1982, The New York Times reported, "So far this year, the police said, there have been six bomb explosions attributed to 'non-terrorist' actions and six explosions attributed to terrorist groups."  One of the most recent was "in a vacant building at 341 West 47th Street," said the article.

photograph by Carole Teller

The renovation was completed in 1985, resulting in two condominium apartments per floor.  All remnants of the Bloomingdale Turnverein were erased, including the parapet and frieze, and the German inscription above the doorway.

many thanks to artist Carole Teller for suggesting this post

The St. Francis Court - 583 Riverside Drive

image via eqarchitects.com

On September 29, 1905, the architectural firm of Neville & Bagge filed plans for a six-story "brick and stone tenement" at the northeast corner of Riverside Drive and 135th Street.  (The term "tenement" at the time referred to any multi-family structure.)  Designed for developer J. V. Signell & Co., it would cost $150,000 to erect, or about $5.5 million in 2026 terms.

Completed in 1906, Neville & Bagge's overall neo-Colonial design included a two-story limestone base that supported four floors of variegated Flemish bond brick.  Charred header bricks gave the illusion of age.  Turret-like rounded bays gave dimension.  A handsome stone balustrade sat atop the bracketed cornice.

Apartment Houses of the Metropolis, 1908 (copyright expired)

The St. Francis Court had six apartments per floor ranging from five to eight rooms.  The 1908 Apartment Houses of the Metropolis noted that the finishes were "in hardwood, oak, mahogany and curly birch," and the bedrooms "in white enamel [with] mahogany doors."  

Apartment Houses of the Metropolis, 1908 (copyright expired)

Because electrical service was not reliable, the apartments had both gas and electric lighting.  The upscale amenities included "long distance telephone in each apartment."  Rents ranged from $720 to $1,500 per year, or $4,400 per month for the most expensive by today's conversion.

Among the initial residents were the Powers family, who had recently relocated from Maysville, Kentucky.  Mrs. Powers, who was a widow, lived here with her young adult children, Mary and John J.  

Mary Powers attended the exclusive Brantwood Hall girls' finishing school in Bronxville, New York.  She graduated in June 1910.  A classmate, Eda Bigger, was also from Maysville, Kentucky.  Rather than immediately returning home, Eda spent the summer in the Powers apartment.  The New York Times remarked, "Both are members of prominent Kentucky families, and were well-known in the social circles of Lawrence Park, Bronxville, during the school season."  

On July 9, Mary and Eda took a train to Bronxville to have lunch with two classmates.  The four young women chatted after lunch until Mary and Eda realized they were in danger of missing the 4:19 train back to New York.  As they neared the station, the southbound train was already at the platform.  The New York Times reported, "although the gates were down, and despite the cries of many commuters who were horrified to see a northbound train approaching on the other track, they ran around one of the stanchions holding an arm of the gate."   Mary and Eda, who were 20 and 22 years old respectively, were struck by the northbound train.

Eda Bigger was thrown 20 feet while Mary Powers was caught underneath the engine and dragged several hundred feet.  Her left leg was severed below the knee and her skull fractured.  The New York Times wrote, "The shoes of both young women were torn from their feet, and their costly Summer gowns were almost torn into ribbons."  The train crew treated the two women and then rushed them in automobiles to the Lawrence Hospital.

The New York Times reported that Mary's mother was notified by telephone.  She "went from New York on an express train.  She was on the verge of collapse and was looked after by friends," said the article.  Two days later, the newspaper reported that Mary had died.  "Her body will be shipped to Maysville, Ky.," said the article.  It noted, "Miss Eda Bigger...passed a favorable night, but the heat had a bad effect and last night her condition was far from favorable."

Frederic and Elise Timme were also early residents.  Elise was born in Germany in 1837 and she married Frederic in 1908.  Frederic was her second husband; her first, Charles Boettcher, was deceased.  Elise died on November 10, 1911 and her will raised eyebrows.  Her estate was valued at about $4 million in today's money, "principally of realty," according to The New York Times.  She left $10,000 (about $340,000 today) to the German Hospital and Dispensary "in memory of her former husband."  She additionally left the equivalent of $954,000 to Charles Boettcher's nieces and nephews.  The New York Times reported that she "divided her furniture...between Lizzie Brown and Agnes Fuechsel."  (What Frederic Timme was going to sit and sleep upon is unclear.)

Elise did not ignore Frederic in the will.  He inherited a life income of a $25,000 trust fund and "a talking machine appraised at $100."

Unmarried resident Isabel Rea, who lived here in 1912, typified the progressive young women of her generation.  On November 10, The Sun reported on the 20,000 women who participated in the suffrage parade on Fifth Avenue.  The lengthy article said in part:

The sidewalk crowds said a mighty "A-ah!" and thousands of hands clapped as Miss Isabel Rea of 583 Riverside Drive now came along as Joan of Arc astride a white horse panoplied in crimson plush.  Joan of Arc wore glittering armor and carried a long sword.  She led the Joan of Arc's division with President Nellie B. Van Slingeria of the league heading the long columns of foot soldiers.

At one point, Isabel suffered a brief wardrobe malfunction.  "At Thirty-fourth street Joan of Arc had trouble with her sword, but again Inspector Lahey came to the rescue and recovered it," said the article.

Clara Skolnik moved into the St. Francis Court in 1913 after leaving her husband, violinist Gregor Skolnik.  The couple was married in 1907 when Gregor was 19 and Clara was 31.  Shortly afterward, Gregor realized he had made a mistake.  On September 13, 1913 he filed for separation.  His complaint said in part: "Since the marriage [he] has never eaten a meal at home cooked by anyone other than himself, the defendant absolutely refusing to cook or provide for the plaintiff in any way."  

Gregor's weight dropped from 175 to 130 pounds, partly, said the complaint, "to the mental strain" from "language with which his wife addressed him on his return home from late rehearsals."  Her jealousy extended to his 18-year-old sister, a violin prodigy whom he was training.  When he suggested that he would have the marriage annulled, Clara told him "she would shoot him if he tried to do so."

Clara insisted that he give up music and go into business.  That resulted in disaster.  The New York Times reported, "he lost several thousand dollars."  When he was at the verge of bankruptcy, Clara left him and moved into the St. Francis Court.  She earned $100 a week as a dress designer (about $3,250 today).  Skolnik said she "was in a position to bear part of his business losses" but "refused to do so."

As it turned out, Clara's walking out had positive results.  On September 14, 1913, The New York Times reported that Gregor Skolnik "will be concertmeister of the Chicago Opera Company during the coming season."

Mrs. Abbie Manion had an extra bedroom in her apartment in 1913.  She rented it to Leopold Sulzberger, described by The Sun as "a quiet man of 45 years."  As it turned out, Sulzberger chose the St. Francis Court location because he "was very much in love with a young woman of the neighborhood," as reported by The Sun.  He would be called a stalker today.  

Sulzberger sat for hours every day on a bench in Riverside Park.  He confided to a policeman named Manning that he suspected the young woman he loved "of accepting the attentions of other men."  He explained that he would sit there "to see who her callers were and to learn whether she was in the habit of going out with other men."

On the morning of January 2, 1914, Mrs. Manion smelled gas coming from Sulzberger's room.  She found a policeman, who coincidentally was Officer Manning.  He broke open the bedroom door and immediately recognized the unconscious Sulzberger as the man to which he had spoken in the park.  He was taken to the Knickerbocker Hospital where, although his condition was deemed serious, he was held as a prisoner, charged with attempted suicide.

At the time, Clifford L. C. Porter shared an apartment with his widowed mother, Katherine, and his maternal grandmother, Lucy Paget.  The 19-year-old was studying law while also working for the publishing firm George H. Doran Company as a proof reader.  The New-York Tribune said, however, "What they didn't know was that he had great ambition to excel as a writer himself, and that when he went home at night he would sit up until 3 o'clock in the morning, sometimes, toiling at his writing."

At 3:00 on the afternoon of July 1, 1915, two shots rang out in the Porter apartment.  The New-York Tribune reported that Lucy Paget was home, "but, old and deaf, she heard nothing."  But the building's superintendent, August Carter, heard the shots.  He called the manager, and they went to the apartment.

The men forced young Porter's door, which was locked, and found [Clifford] lying on the floor, fully dressed, with two bullet holes in his head.  A 32-calibre automatic Colt revolver lay beside him.

Clifford Porter, who was now 20 years old, had ensured that his suicide would be successful.  The New York Herald reported that before shooting himself, "he had taken fatal doses of aconite and gelsemium."  Porter's supervisor at work said he "could think of no reason for the deed."  Lucy Paget told reporters that the young man "had been studying too hard."  She insisted that he was not in love.

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

A celebrated tenant at the time was playwright Howard Prentiss Taylor, who lived here with his wife, the former Agnes Chalmers.  Born in Louisville, Kentucky in 1839, he went to San Francisco as a boy where he got a job as a "printer's devil" at the newspaper The Argonaut.  (A printer's devil was an apprentice who did tasks like mixing inks and retrieving type.)

He later erected the Grand Opera House in San Francisco and was its manager for many years.  He later worked closely with Sam Clemens and collaborated with him in converting A Connecticut Yankee at the Court of King Arthur into a stage play.  Among the numerous plays he wrote were The Little Pauper, Nell Gwynne, The Pulse of New York, and The Jolly Widow.  His final book was The Idiosyncrasies of Mark Twain.

In 1910, Taylor began suffering from rheumatism.  He died in his apartment here at the age of 78 on July 7, 1916.

America's entry to World War I made heroes of at least two residents.  On July 12, 1918, The New York Times reported on the ceremony on the grounds of a château on the banks of the Marne--"the first large presentation of distinguished service crosses awarded to members of the United States Marine Corps for their heroic deeds in the fighting northwest of Château-Thierry in the month of June."  Among the marines so honored was the St. Francis Court resident Surgeon Ray C. Farwell.

The following month, on August 18, The Sun began an article saying, "Christopher W. Ford of 583 Riverside Drive, New York, a Lieutenant in the Lafayette Escadrille, fast is approaching the 'ace' class of American aviators."  In the past four months, Ford had shot down four German aircraft and had been awarded the Croix de Guerre.

Lieutenant Christopher W. Ford, The Sun, August 18, 1918 (copyright expired)

Oil salesman John N. Redmond, who lived here as early as 1919, arrived in New York City in 1914 from North Dakota.  He

first caught the attention of law enforcement in September 1919.  Several brokerage firms had received bomb threats and on September 10 The Sun reported that they "were traced yesterday by the police to John N. Redmond, 38, of 583 Riverside Drive."  The article said he was committed to the psychopathic ward of Bellevue Hospital for observation.  Detective Sergeant John F. McCoy explained that Redmond "believed himself to have been victimized by Wall Street brokers and 'defrauded of millions.'"

Redmond somehow escaped prosecution, but he was soon back in jail.  On April 8, 1920, he was arrested in the Robert Treat Hotel in Newark, New Jersey.  For the past five years he had been sending "amatory" letters to a socially prominent Newark woman--more than 500 of them.  Oddly enough, said the article, "he never has met the woman, nor she him."  The New-York Tribune described the letters as "obscene" and The Sun added that they caused the woman to have a nervous breakdown.

New York Herald, August 24, 1922 (copyright expired)

Resident Delores Dixon shocked the nation when she filed suit against baseball star Babe Ruth on March 13, 1923 for $50,000 "on the ground that he is the father of her child," as reported by The New York Times.  The newspaper described Dixon as "19 years old, an orphan, without brothers or sisters," and was "being kept in seclusion."  Her lawyer had notified Ruth of the accusation in November.  After the "home run king" conferred with his wife, they agreed to fight the case in court.  Babe Ruth called Dixon's allegations "blackmail."

Delores Dixon's attorney told reporters that she had met Ruth in the spring of 1922.  "He used to be with her four and five times a week, taking her out frequently in his car."  But the two would not face off in court.  A month later, on April 28, The New York Times reported that Dixon's suit had been withdrawn.  Babe Ruth's attorney, Hyman Bushel, explained to reporters that Delores "admitted that the suit was the outcome of a 'frame-up.'"

Living here in 1956 was Robert Moscowitz, who was 70 years old and blind.  Around 7:00 on the night of June 29, he left 583 Riverside Drive heading to Lena Trunk's "cider stuble" at 221 East 83rd Street.  (A cider stuble was a bar that served only cider.)  Just before he arrived, 28-year-old Edward Sobek barged in and flourished a toy pistol.  He demanded that Lena Trunk give him $50.  Instead, Lena "dashed out the door and called the police."  Unaware of the situation, Moscowitz walked in.  Edward Sobek beat and robbed him of his $1.65 and inexpensive wristwatch and fled.  He did not get far.  Shortly after police arrived, they captured Sobek.

George Xavier lived here as early as 1976.  The 23-year-old worked as a parking lot attendant.  On the night of October 16 that year, he was playing cards with several men in front of 236 West 52nd Street.  An argument ensued and Xavier was fatally stabbed.

A renovation completed in February 2003 resulted in the Dorothy Day Apartments.  It was likely at this time that the stone balustrade was removed from the roofline.  The building now holds 70 affordable apartments for families in need.  It also provides an early childhood education center and on-site employment office.  Also in the building is the Rio II Gallery.

The Lost William Devoe House - 84 Carmine Street

 

The extension of Seventh Avenue resulted in a chamfered corner.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

Construction of the new Trinity Church was completed in 1790.  It replaced the 1697 original that was burned during the Revolution.  Historian Martha Lamb, in her 1877 History of the City of New York, noted that among the vestrymen who resolved "to set apart a pew in Trinity Church for the President" on March 8, 1790, was Nicholas Carman.  

Carman owned a large amount of land north of the city.  Three decades after he signed that resolution, streets were laid out on his property, one of which was named Carmine street, named for him despite the misspelling.  As early as 1827, Federal style homes were being erected along Carmine Street.  

Typical of them was 84 Carmine Street a two-and-a-half story, brick-faced house.  Twenty-feet wide, its entrance above a two-step porch most likely had narrow leaded sidelights and a transom.  Piercing the peaked roof were two dormers in the front and one in the rear.  The muntins of their round-arched windows created elegant, interlocking pointed arches.

As early as 1851, William H. Devoe and his wife, the former Susanna Hadden, occupied 84 Carmine Street.  Devoe was a principal in Devoe & Taylor, shipjoiners.  (Shipjoiners employed skilled craftsmen to manufacture the interior finished carpentry of vessels--like the cabinetry of staterooms, cabins, and such.)  

Living with the couple was Susanna's widowed mother, Catherine Hadden.  They rented unused rooms, as well.  An advertisement in the New-York Tribune on February 24, 1852 read, "To Let--The upper part of the House No. 84 Carmine-st.  Apply from 11 A.M. to 3 P.M.  Rent $160."  (The figure would translate to about $550 per month in 2026.)

The Haddens' tenants in 1851 were Albert Weber and his wife.  Weber was a well-known pianomaker on West Broadway.  The following year, August H. and Harriet N. Poe moved in.  Tragically, on Christmas morning that year, their only son, Charles Augustus, died.  His funeral was held in the house the following afternoon.

A son, William H. Devoe Jr., was born here on June 3, 1853.  

Catharine Hadden died at the age of 69 on September 21 "after a short illness," according to the New York Daily Herald.  Her funeral was held in the parlor on the morning of the 23rd. 

It might be that Catharine was the only musician in the family.  A week before her death, an advertisement in the New York Daily Herald read:

Great Sacrifice--An exceedingly fine-toned rosewood pianoforte, not three months used and fully warranted, with stool and cover, will be disposed of at an immense sacrifice, at 84 Carmine street, (on the Sixth avenue railroad).

(The Sixth Avenue streetcar was the closest public transportation at the time.  Varick Street ended at Houston Street and Hudson Street did not have a streetcar line.)

There would soon be another funeral in the house.  Little William H. Devoe Jr. died on November 22, 1855 at two years old.

The Devoes left Carmine Street around 1858, and their former home became a boarding house.  Living here that year were John H. Cooke, who listed his profession as "segars;" seaman Lewis Turin; and a newly-arrived woman from France.  She advertised on April 25, 1858:

A Parisian lady, having great experience in teaching her language, wants a few more scholars for private lessons.  Terms moderate.  Inquire at 84 Carmine street, near Varick.

The Moses Sammis family moved into the house in 1860.  Born in 1819, he and his wife, the former Harriet Anna Crocker, had nine sons and a daughter.  Son Clark Sammis would recall to the Brooklyn Eagle in 1909 that at the time of his parents' marriage, Moses "was known through Brooklyn in the old days as Colonel M. Sammis, and the product of the marriage was a very large family."

Moses Sammis's brothers were well-known in theatrical circles.  William and George were theatrical managers (George was the manager of the Grand Opera House).  Moses, on the other hand, took a more civic job.  He was a letter carrier when the family moved into 84 Carmine Street, and by 1864 he was a tax collector for the city.  

The parlor was yet again the scene of a funeral on February 21, 1864.  Three days earlier, Jay J. Sammis, the youngest son of Moses and Harriet, had died at the age of four.  Later that same year, the Sammis family moved to Brooklyn.

Perhaps because 84 Carmine Street was relatively remote from major streets, its parlor floor was not converted to a shop.  Owner John Flanagan leased the house.  Printer George Gregory and his family lived here from 1868 to '69, followed by another printer, Peter Vanbeuren.  Flanagan's tenants continued to rent unneeded space.  An advertisement in the New York Daily Herald on April 12, 1868 offered, "Furnished comfortable attic room to let--For one or two gentlemen or a single lady, for light housekeeping."

The advertisement was telling.  Because the attic was now being rented, the families obviously no longer had a live-in servant.  And offering a room to an unmarried lady was shocking at the time. It suggests that the neighborhood was already declining.

Joseph Lamb and his family moved in in 1873.  Lamb was in the furniture business with locations at 59 Carmine Street and 223 West Houston.  He was a partner with Richard Lamb, presumably a brother.  In 1878, son Frederick William Lamb was enrolled in the City College of New York.

While the previous tenants did not have a servant, the Lambs did.  An advertisement on May 20, 1880, read, "Wanted--A girl to do general housework in a private family; must be willing to go in the country; wages $12 per month."  (The monthly salary would equal $380 today.  And the mention of going to the country disclosed that the Lambs maintained a summer home.)

John Flanagan sold the house at auction on November 23, 1885 for $9,300 (about $313,000 today).  The ground floor became home to the Saint Bartholomew's Hospital and Dispensary following its incorporation in December 1888.  Its presence reflected the changes within the Greenwich Village neighborhood.  In its January 26, 1889 issue, The Medical Record reported that the dispensary provided "the free treatment of the diseases of the genito-urinary organs, both venereal and non-venereal, and of the skin."

The house was sold again in November 1898.  Mrs. Delli Fitzsimmons, who leased it in May 1904, operated it as a rooming house.  The following year, on December 1, 1905, the New-York Tribune reported that the tenants "were thrown into a panic last night when fire broke out in the cellar and filled the building with smoke."  Patrolmen Bunn and Walker rushed into the house and woke up the residents.  "As soon as the tenants were aroused they rushed from their apartments, shouting and struggling to get to the street," said the article.

Mary Sexon lived in the attic.  When she did not respond to the rapping of the policemen's nightsticks on the door, they broke it in.  "Mrs. Sexton was lying unconscious, overcome by the smoke which filled the rooms," reported the New-York Tribune.  She was removed to St. Vincent's Hospital where she was revived.

As early as 1910 a Frenchwoman, Jeanette Borrine, operated the "lodging house," as described by The New York Times.  Lodging houses were the lowest form of accommodations, and rooms were rented out on a daily basis.  No amenities other than a bed were provided.

On January 6 that year, a couple--Deaf Lilly and Billy the Gink--rented the attic room.  The New York Times explained, "the Frenchwoman, who had known her years ago, gave her lodging."  The newspaper said that Lilly once "was the beautiful wife of 'Big Barney' in the days when every one in McGurk's 'Suicide Hall' would push their tables back to the wall while the couple waltzed down the middle."  Lilly earned the nickname in those days as "The pride of the Stevedores."

But that was 15 or 20 years earlier.  "Big Barney" disappeared and Lilly resorted to prostitution to survive.  She was repeatedly arrested and sent to Blackwell's Island until, according to The New York Times, "she was scarcely admitted to the places where she had once reigned as queen."  Her new husband was a drunk and a brute.  The newspaper explained that he was known as Billy the Gink "because somebody once knocked out his right eye."

Two days after they moved in, another lodger, Maggie Whalen, told Jeanette Borrine, "Lilly took an awful beating to-night.  I could hear Billy walloping her."  On January 12, 1910, Borrine "began to worry at Lilly's non-appearance," so she entered the room.  The New York Times reported, "Deaf Lilly was found dead yesterday lying half under her bed in the little furnished room at the top floor."  The article said that police were looking for Billy the Gink.

At the time, discussions to extend Seventh Avenue (which began at 11th Street) south to Varick Street were being held.  In 1913, work began on a two-pronged project--the extension of the avenue and the construction of the Seventh Avenue subway.  Like a titan-sized lawn mower, the work cut a swatch through Greenwich Village, erasing scores of buildings and leaving others with sections sheared off.

No. 84 Carmine Street nearly escaped the project, although it skimmed a few feet off the western corner, resulting in the doorway and second-floor window to be placed at an angle.

84 Carmine Street (right) barely escaped the construction project.  Shelby White & Leon Levy Digital Library

Following the minor renovations, Vincenzo Cesareo moved into 84 Carmine Street.  He opened his Universal Scientific Institute in the ground floor.  Describing his business as a "school of hypnotism," he was also listed in the 1914 Directory of Publishers, Printers and Authors Issuing Books.

Cesareo's residency here would be short-lived.  On April 24, 1915, the New York Herald reported he was sentenced "to three months in the penitentiary for unlawfully practising [sic] medicine by hypnotizing patients into the belief that they were well."  The article said that Cesareo not only "used his own spiritual powers to persuade persons that his treatment was actually improving their health, but he employed his wife as the medium whose oracular utterances guided the patient to a cure."

A renovation completed in 1923 resulted in a commercial space on the first floor, home to the National Flexible Packing Co.'s general offices, and a single apartment in the upper floors.  

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The greatly altered, venerable structure survived until 1996, when it and the apartment building next door were replaced by a single-story structure.