The Bush Terminal Sales Building - 130 West 42nd Street

 

photograph by Epicgenius

In 1895, Irving T. Bush conceived a solution to shipping, storage and distribution costs.  His Bush Company organized a complex of six warehouses and a steamship pier on the South Brooklyn waterfront as a freight-handling terminal.  The firm's name was changed to the Bush Terminal Company in 1902.  By then, the complex included a railroad, factory lofts and warehouses.  The Bush Terminal Company moved into its newly-built headquarters at 100 Broad Street in 1905.

In 1916, at the age of 47, Irving T. Bush envisioned another ground-breaking project: a centralized market in which wholesalers world-wide could display their goods.  The architectural firm of Helmle & Corbett, composed of Frank J. Helmle and Harvey Wiley Corbett, was commissioned to design a 30-story structure on the narrow, 50-foot-wide plot at 130-132 West 42nd Street.  Corbett took the reins of the project, designing the skyscraper in the neo-Gothic style.

Irving Bush's original name for the building--The Bush Terminal International Exhibit Building and Buyers' Club--did not easily roll off the tongue.  It was quickly abbreviated to the Bush Terminal Sales Building.  In its July 1917 issue, Dry Goods described it as "a World's Fair in a skyscraper."  The article said, "The Bush Terminal Company is constructing the building at a cost of $2,000,000, and, war or no war, is going to have it open by October 1st."  (The construction cost would translate to $50.2 million in 2026.)  Dry Goods noted that it would be "the tallest building in Times Square."

Corbett's streamlined Gothic elements emphasized the building's narrow verticality, carrying certain vertical lines from the base to the crown.  Corbett explained to The American Architect years later, "The whole mass of the building [was], of course, vertical, and everything possible in designing was done to accentuate this verticality."

The American Architect, October 17, 1917 (copyright expired)

The soaring tower dwarfed the neighboring low-rise buildings.  However, Corbett realized that  the situation might not last forever.  In order to avoid blank side walls, he created full-height, trompe l'oeil piers by the use of colored brick.  Although the Bush Terminal Sales Building is often touted as the first example of the newly enacted New York Zoning Law, Corbet corrected that idea in The American Architect in 1926, saying, "Plans for the building were drawn before the law went into effect.  The set-backs were conceived purely for architectural and aesthetic reasons."

The American Architect, October 17, 1917 (copyright expired)

Dry Goods explained the "double purpose of the new skyscraper."  The Buyers' Club occupied the first floor and mezzanine and included a men's lounge, "reading rooms with library reference books, catalogs, out of town and foreign newspapers and magazines, bar, buffet lunch, etc."  The article laid out the various services available to visiting buyers in the Buyer's Club:

There will be 'information about plays and the sailing of steamships, telephone booths, theatre tickets, retail shopping news, a stenographic department, ticker tape service, trade and credit information and a register of doctors, dentists, nurses.

The typical upper floors held display units of 10 by 10 feet.  On the highest floors were offices, including those of Irving T. Bush (on the topmost floor) and Helmle & Corbett.

The lobby carried on the Gothic motif.  The Bush Magazine 1921 (copyright expired)

In its October 1919 issue, The American Magazine noted, "at present over one thousand manufacturers have engaged space and service for their products.  Elene Foster, writing in the New-York Tribune on February 2 that year, lauded the convenience of one-stop shopping for the out-of-town buyers.  "Before the erection of the Bush Terminal Sales Building, which by the by, is the first of its kind in the world, the woman buyer...who makes a semi-annual pilgrimage for the purpose of replenishing her stock was obliged to trudge from one dingy downtown building to another."  

Dry Goods, July 1917 (copyright expired)

Now, she said, "she wends her way toward the great Gothic building on Forty-second Street."  Buyers would find manufacturers were arranged by floors--toys, childrenswear, or housewares, for instance, on their own dedicated floor.

The Notions and Fancy Goods division (top) and the Perfumery and Toilet Articles floor.  The Bush Magazine, 1921 (copyright expired)

There was an exhibition space in the building, as well.  On February 6, 1919, the New-York Tribune reported, "The first children's fashion show took place last night at the Bush Terminal Building under auspices of the International Buyers' Club," and nine months later, on November 24, The New York Times announced, "Four thousand examples of Persian art will be placed on exhibition and sale today at the Bush Terminal, 130 West Forty-second Street."  Among the "miniatures, lacquers, potteries, brocades" and other items was a 16-foot-square tapestry, "representing the work of 100 women for ten years," said the article.  It was valued at $100,000

About two weeks later, that exhibition escaped what could have been a disaster.  On December 13, The New York Times reported, "Candles used for lighting when electric lights were turned off in accordance with the fuel conservation order were said to have been the cause of a fire on the eighth floor of the Bush Terminal Sales building."  The fire was confined to that floor and the article said, "The fire and water proof construction of the building prevented any damage being caused by water to the collection of Persian art exhibited on the third floor."  The article noted that the 4,000 specimens were the property "of the Persian throne" and included "illuminated manuscripts, rugs, jewelry, and lacquer work which date back as far as the twelfth century."

World War I brought a new type of tenant to the building.  In 1919, the League to Enforce Peace, the League of Free Nations Association, the Vacation War Relief Committee of the Vacation Association, and the City Government Committee of Citizens' Union signed leases.

On May 22, 1921, The New York Times reported, "Extensive alterations are being made to the lower floors of the Bush Terminal Sales Building...to accommodate a novel feature to be known as the Old Town Tavern."  The article explained that the tavern proper "will be equipped with the furniture and fittings characteristic of some of the famous old inns and taverns of New York a hundred years ago."  The motif was carried on throughout the first three floors.  Irving T. Bush, said the article,  intended to remind visitors "of the great historic interest of New York which is so often overlooked or forgotten."  

The three floors, therefore, "are furnished with the quaint old furniture and fittings of the old English manor houses."  Heavy ceiling beams, blocks of travertine imported from Italy and "Old English tile" for the floors were installed.  Irving Bush loaned antiques from his personal collection, including a 16th century banquet table.

The American Architect, October 17, 1917 (copyright expired)

Another change came the following year when the newly organized Hamilton Bank moved into the ground floor in December 1922.  Other new tenants that year were the Technical Book Co. and the Newspaper Club, composed of journalists.

The world-wide esteem of the Bush Terminal Sales Building was exemplified in July 1922 when English novelist Hugh Walpole and the Maharajah of Rajpipla visited the United States.  The New-York Tribune opined on July 10 that the two distinguished visitors had made a mistake.  "No man can see America in two weeks."  The article presumed that the Maharajah would have time only to see one landmark in each of the cities he would be visited.  The newspaper chose the Bush Terminal Sales Building as New York City's point of interest.

The offices of architects Robert P. Rodgers and Alfred E. Poor were located in the building in 1930.  That year, on February 18, Rodgers & Poor's design for the Wright Memorial at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, was selected among 35 submitted designs.

In March 1931, the Childs Restaurant chain leased the two-story space formerly occupied by the Hamilton Bank.  (The bank had recently merged with Chase National Bank.)  The New York Times reported that the space "will be extensively remodeled in old London style by the architects, Pruitt & Brown."

By the outbreak of World War II, the building that Bush Magazine of Factory and Shipping Economy had called "A Modern Temple of Trade" in 1917 was no longer a wholesale shopper's mecca.  Now filled with offices, on March 28, 1941, The New York Times reported that six new tenants had signed leases the previous day.  They included the Commercial Capital Corporation; the accounting firm of Edwin J. Fluss Company; the ABC-Mutual Cleaning Contractors; Leo J. Margolin, an attorney; Stuart Robson, a novelty company; and William Rutter, the New York representative of the Angell Manufacturing Company of Dayton, Ohio.

The headquarters of the Red Cross War Fund of Greater New York opened here in January 1943.  Its sole purpose was to raise money for the Red Cross's work in war-ravaged Europe and on the battlefronts.  By 1946, the name was tweaked to the Red Cross Fund Headquarters.  Among its fund-raising methods was an annual benefit Broadway variety show, and in March 1946 two days of tennis matches at the Seventh Regiment Armory were held.  On March 6, The New York Times announced, "Donald Budge, the king of the courts, heads a cast of professional tennis players who will appear in New York for the benefit of the American Red Cross."

The 1960s saw a wide variety of tenants.  Among them were the Doric Training Center, which promised, "If you're interested in a glamorous, high fashion, high profit cosmetics business of your own, this is it!"; the American School, which advertised, "Do you have leadership potential? Supervisory training at home in your spare time;" and attorney Hyman Abrams, who specialized in immigration law.  He was convicted in August 1969 for "obstructing justice and causing false statements to be made to the Immigration and Naturalization Service," as reported by the New York Amsterdam News.

The building was acquired by Vanke US in 2015 and the lobby was remodeled by Fogarty Finger Architects.  The sleek, white space was inspired "by art gallery spaces," according to Vanke's website.  

image via vanke.us.com

The upper floors were gutted into industrial loft-style spaces.  In May 29, 2026, Bisnow reported that the Bush Terminal Sales Building "is now in the hands of a bank."

many thanks to reader Andrew Porter for suggesting this post

Thom & Wilson's 1884 142 East 79th Street

 

James A. Frame was a prolific real estate developer in the later decades of the 19th century.  On December 1, 1883, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that he would be erecting 18 houses on East 79th Street, 13 at the southeast corner of Fourth Avenue (today's Park Avenue) and five at the southwest corner of Lexington Avenue.  The architectural firm of Thom & Wilson would be designing the two projects.

Completed in 1884, the eastern-most structure, 142 East 79th Street, was clad in brownstone.  Its stone stoop was offset to the west.  Thom & Wilson's neo-Grec design included ornate window frames on the 79th Street side.  They sat on bracketed sills and wore molded cornices supported by corbeled piers.  Below the pressed metal terminal cornice was a frieze of rosette-decorated panels.

An advertisement described:

Southwest Corner of Lexington Ave.; handsome four story high-stoop, brown-stone dwelling, two-story extension, beautifully decorated, hard-wood trimmed; all improvements; on cable road, street 100 feet wide, size of lot 20x102.

James A. Frame sold 142 East 79th Street to John W. Haaren in April 1885 for $35,000 (about $1.2 million in 2026).  Haaren was a partner in the importing firm of Haaren & Meinken, founded in 1865 with Henry Meinken.  Both men dealt in real estate, as well.  Haaren and his wife, Marie, had four children, John William, Henry F., Mamy M., and Lena W.  

On the afternoon of March 11, 1891, John and Marie went for a drive.  The New York Herald reported, "He drove a spirited team hitched to a light side-bar buggy."  At around 6:30, they stopped at the house of a friend on 57th Street near Ninth Avenue.  John ran in "to speak to his friend," while Marie waited in the buggy.  Just as he was leaving, a Ninth Avenue elevated train passed.  The New York Herald reported, "The noise of the train frightened the horses, and they started on the run through Fifty-seventh street."  John ran after them, but fell.  Getting to his feet, he continued the chase.

The panicked horses crashed into a truck at 57th Street and Third avenue.  Two policeman caught the horses and calmed them.  Inside the buggy, Marie Haaren was unconscious.  By the time John arrived (no doubt breathless from his marathon), a neighborhood doctor had diagnosed Marie with "nervous shock."  Based on that, when the ambulance arrived John asked them to take her to their home, rather than a hospital.

It was an understandable decision, but a fatal one.  Marie regained consciousness on the way home, but fainted again.  The New York Herald reported, "On reaching her home she was taken to her room, and almost immediately died."  The 56-year-old had a history of heart problems and, according to the newspaper, "it is thought the fright caused by the runaway brought on an attack of the disease."

Marie's funeral was held in the parlor of 142 East 79th Street on March 15, followed by a service at Immanuel Lutheran Church on Lexington Avenue and 88th Street.

John Haaren sold 142 East 79th Street in 1896.  John L. Jordan converted the basement to a commercial space and the upper floors into three sprawling apartments, including one duplex.  

The store, with the address of 1140 Lexington Avenue, became home to S. Blumberg's drug store while the apartments were rented to well-to-do tenants.  A mysterious woman who moved into the building in June 1903 was Jane Leroy.  The "jewel-bedecked woman" was arrested for shoplifting in a Broadway department store on August 27, caught "stealing doilies worth $23.10," as reported by The Evening Post.  (The value of the lacy heist would translate to about $868 today.)

As it turned out, Jane Leroy was, in fact, the wife of jeweler Henry R. Levi.  They originally lived in Washington D.C., but according to The Evening World, now lived in a luxurious home at 315 East 46th Street.  The couple, it appears, were having domestic problems.  Levi arrived at the stationhouse that evening and furnished his wife's staggering $19,000 bail.

The next day, a lawyer's clerk told the magistrate that "the woman was too ill to appear."  Magistrate Ommen would not have it.  "That's no good.  I'll give you until 11 o'clock to produce the defendant, otherwise her bond will be forfeited," he demanded.  The New York Herald reported, "A little later Mrs. Levi came to court in a carriage.  She persisted in saying she was Jane Leroy, a housekeeper living at 142 East Seventy-ninth."  

As early as 1913, the store space was home to Frederick Bahr's grocery store.  It would become the Planodome Market within a decade.

"St. Peter's" magazine, September 1913 (copyright expired)

In the meantime, William J. Baird occupied an apartment here as early as 1919.  The bachelor was an "athletic instructor," according to the New-York Tribune.  On March 20, he took his  fiancé, Alice Whitman of Brooklyn, to the Palace Theatre.  The night ended badly.  William briefly excused himself during intermission.  When he returned to his seat, Alice told him that Dr. Albert L. Roth, who sat nearby, "had annoyed her during his absence."  The New-York Tribune reported that Baird left his seat "and punched the face of Dr. Albert L. Roth."  He and Alice then started out of the theater.  

Dr. Roth called out to a sailor nearby to stop him.  The sailor held Baird until a policeman responded and arrested him.  In night court, Baird explained his actions, saying, "I lost my temper, but I am willing to apologize."  The New-York Tribune reported, "Dr. Roth, who had lost a tooth, would have none of his apology, and Baird was fined $10, which he paid."

In 1929, architect Lafayette A. Goldstone was hired to renovate the building.  The stoop was removed and a triangular pediment placed over the new, sidewalk-level residential entrance.  There were now offices on the second floor, one apartment each on the third and fourth floors, and two "non-housekeeping" apartments on the fifth.  (The term meant that they had no kitchens.)

The ground-floor entrance to the apartments can be seen in this 1940 tax photo.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The tenants continued to be well-to-do.  The widow of Dwight Morgan Platt and her daughter, Miriam Dwight, lived here in 1929 when Miriam was married to John Merrill Congdon in Sherry's on October 21 that year.  The engagement and the wedding were heavily covered in society pages for weeks.

Wealthy widow Eila Haggin McKee, daughter of millionaire James B. Haggin, moved into an apartment building next door in 1928.  The structures were owned by the same firm.  The New York Times reported, "she missed the flowers that were her hobby on her Summer estate, Blue Blinds, at Smithtown Branch, L. I., so she rented the roof space on the adjoining building at 142 East Seventy-ninth...at a cost of $800 annually."  The article said, "The roof was only a step down from her apartment next door, and she sealed the stairway in the apartment at No. 142 which led to the roof."

The last remnant of James A. Frame's ambitious row, 142 East 79th Street is dwarfed by its neighbors today.

Problems came in 1936 when Eila McKee died.  The New York Times explained that the executors canceled the lease on the apartment, "presuming that the cancellation agreement also covered the garden space."  It did not.  By then, the buildings were separately owned.  The estate was in court for at least three years trying to untangle the complicated issue, which not only dealt with the rent, but the restoration of the internal staircase and access to the roof in 142 East 79th Street.

As early as 1940, Ruth Forster's florist shop occupied the ground floor.  In 1955, it was known as Betty Forster, Inc., the name presumably that of Ruth's daughter.  In the late 1980s, a florist shop, now the Strakes Florists, still occupied the space.

During a renovation in 1974, the residential entrance was moved to the Lexington Avenue side (although retaining the East 79th Street address).  The 79th Street entrance now accessed the store.  The remodeling resulted in offices on the second floor and one apartment each on the upper stories.

photographs by the author

The Skinny 144 First Avenue

 

photograph by Anthony Bellov

In the 1830s, the eastern blockfront of First Avenue between Eighth and Ninth Streets was lined with low Federal-style store-and-house buildings.  Change would soon come as throngs of immigrants inundated the neighborhood.  Private homes were converted to rooming houses and vintage buildings on the avenues were replaced with tenements and stores.  Around 1851, a row of Greek Revival store-and-flat buildings was erected at 142 through 148 First Avenue.

The buildings were faced in red running bond brick above the storefronts.  Their Greek Revival design included featureless brownstone lintels and wooden corbeled cornices.  No. 144 First Avenue was just 16-feet wide.  As early as 1852, Mary McGuinness, a widow, lived here, working as a seamstress.  She may have operated the upper floors as a boarding house.  Living here at the same time were Edward McGorren, a real estate agent, and carpenter James Robinson.

At the same time, Gaius H. Nash operated his pharmacy in the store.  He had a short commute to work, since he lived in the new building next door at 146 First Avenue.  (He and his family would move above the store around 1857.)  After working for Nash for several years, an employee became disgruntled by his lack of advancement in 1854.  In June he advertised:

To Druggists--The Advertiser having had eight years experience in the compounding of medicine, is anxious to obtain a clerk's situation.  Best city Reference.  Apply at Dr. Nash's store, 144 First avenue, for two days.

Calling the proprietor "Dr. Nash" was a stretch.  It would not be until around 1859 the he closed his drugstore here and enrolled in the New York University School of Medicine.  He would earn his title "doctor" in 1864.

Sharing the upper floors with the Nash family in 1856 were  a young Irish-born couple, John J. and Margaret Ahern (John worked as a clerk); the extended Ramsey family; and policeman Charles McMillen.  

Margaret Ahern, "formerly of the city of Cork, Ireland," as reported by The New York Sun, died in her rooms here on November 28, 1856 at the age of 18.  Her funeral was held in the couple's rooms.

There would be another funeral in the building within a few months.  The Samuel Ramsey family, who would remain at least through 1865, crowded into an apartment.  They included adult sons James (an engineer) and Robert, and the latter's wife, Margaret, and their three-year-old son, John.  On May 1, 1857, little John succumbed to "congestion of the brain," as described by the New York Herald.  His funeral was held here on June 2.

Joanna Regiersky opened a jewelry store in the former pharmacy space in 1859.  On January 31, 1860, she took two $1,000 St. Louis and Iron Mountain Railroad Company bonds to Jacob Little & Co. on Wall Street to have them cashed.  The New York Times reported, "but as it was after banking hours, she was requested to call the next day."  In fact, the astute clerk was stalling.  He recognized the bonds as having been stolen from the home of Alexander H. Nones two months earlier.  When Joanna returned, an officer was waiting for her.

As it turned out, the burglar (who also took $400 worth of jewelry) was Joanna Regiersky's brother-in-law, Julius Werner.  She told the officer that he had promised her $100 if she successfully cashed the bonds.  Joanna was ordered to send him a message saying that he was needed to "attend the business."  When he arrived, he and Joanna were arrested.  

The incident apparently ended Joanna Regiersky's jewelry shop.  The space became the barbershop of Franz Haberstroh.  (He would alternatively spell his first name Frank and Francis.)

John Wille, a tailor, not only occupied an apartment here by 1868, he owned the building.  Also living here that year was Charles A. Cappa, a musician.  In June 1868, Wille sold the structure to Franz Haberstroh.

Haberstroh did not retain ownership for very long.  By 1872, he closed his barbershop and sold 144 First Avenue to Michael Klopf and his wife, Anna M. H. Klopf.  The couple had three children, Henry, Katie and Lizzie.  Michael opened his "stoves" store in the ground floor space.  It may have been Klopf who slightly updated the appearance of the building by having cast metal cornices added to the lintels.

Michael Klopf died in 1900.  The store space became home to Paul Limbach's "butter and egg" store.  The entrepreneur struggled in business.  On November 9, 1904, the New York Produce Review and American Creamery reported that Paul Limbach's business had failed.  He, nevertheless, rallied and on March 28, 1906, The City Record reported that he had been given a license "to sell milk at No. 144 First avenue."  Only four months later, on July 31, The New York Times reported that he had declared bankruptcy.

While the simple blocks and wooden fascia board were typical of the Greek Revival style, the full-height of the top floor and the slightly-molded cornice showed the emerging Italianate style.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

Rutilio Colorosso, a coal dealer, his wife and six children arrived from Italy in 1892 and moved into 144 First Avenue in 1900.  In the summer of 1911, he opened a second coal store at 406 East 9th Street.  The Italian community was plagued by a terroristic group called La Mano Nera, or the Black Hand, at the time.  The Italian-American group used violence, including assassinations and bombings, to extort money from well-to-do Italians.  On September 11, 1911, The Evening World reported, "Outward evidence of prosperity, manifested by the opening of a new place of business for the sale of coal, wood, ice and cheap wine has brought upon Rutilio Colorosso the unwelcome attention of Black Hand extortioners."

Within four weeks of opening the new store, Colorosso received two Black Hand letters, each demanding $1,000.  They warned him that "he and his family would be blown to pieces in their home unless he paid the money," reported The New York Times.  Colorosso dismissed the letters until the night of September 4.

At 10:30, janitor David Leper locked the street door.  About an hour later, residents of the top floor heard someone walking on the roof.  Minutes later, a massive explosion shattered the doors "of every flat in the four stories of the building," reported The New York Times.  Plaster from the ceilings fell upon sleeping tenants.  The bomb had been placed directly in front of the Colorossos' door.  Where the door had been there was now a four-foot wide hole in the floor.  The article said, "In every room in the house debris crumbled from the ceilings to a depth of several inches."  The Colorossos' 15-year-old son, Joseph, "was thrown out of his bed against the opposite wall."  Happily, he was not hurt.

Two days later, The New York Times reported on the arrest of Giuseppe Costabile, "a shrewd, narrow-eyed Italian," for the bombing.  The article said, "the police believe they have caught the chief and master-mind of a gang of blackmailers who have set most of the thirteen bomb explosions reported in the last month."  If Costabile was, indeed, the bomber, his arrest did not deter the determined extortionists.

That same day, Colorosso received another letter and the following week, on the morning of September 11, a second bomb was discovered in the building.  The Evening World said, "The explosive was dynamite, properly equipped with a detonating cap.  Only two inches of the twelve-inch fuse was burned.  Doubtless the fuse went out while the man who placed the bomb was running way."

The New-York Tribune reported, "The bomb, the police said, was unmistakably designed for Frank [sic] Colarusso [sic]."  The Evening World added, "The bomb found at Colorosso's floor this morning was of sufficient strength to have blown in the front of the building."

In 1940, the sheet metal cornices over the windows were deteriorating.  One of top floor examples had already fallen off.  via the NYC Dept of Records Information Services.

Most of the residents of 144 First Avenue continued to be Italian in the succeeding decades.  Salvatore Rezze and Charles Carnesi lived here in 1929.  On June 1 that year, the Daily Star reported that they had been arrested as part of a "counterfeiting gang."  Rezze, Carnesi, and Anthony Scarpello were arrested after a sharp-eyed taxi driver recognized the $5 bill they paid him was a fake.  Their capture led to "the seizure of the 'plant' where, it is believed, several hundred thousand dollars in bogus bills have been manufactured since the first of the year," said a Secret Service spokesperson.

By the Depression years, the store was home to the Italian American Grocery & Delicatessen.  At the end of Prohibition, Fortunato Liberto obtained a liquor license for the business.

The contemporary building next door, one-third wider than No. 144, received a replacement cornice at some point.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

Today a laundromat occupies the ground floor where a modern storefront and replacement entrance doors can be seen.  The Victorian window cornices are gone, but the vintage wooden terminal cornice survives.

many thanks to Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post.

The 1889 John and Catharine Brosnan House - 146 West 74th Street

 

Real estate was one of the few businesses in which women would thrive in the 19th century.  In 1888, Mary J. Coar hired architect Edward L. Angell to design five upscale rowhouses at West 74th Street between Ninth and Tenth Avenues (renamed Columbus and Amsterdam, respectively, in 1890).  Mary Coar was not only the owner and developer of the project, but she was listed as the contractor as well.

Angell's plans, filed in March, described five four-story "brick, brown stone trimmed" dwellings.  Each would cost $25,000 to construct, or about $902,000 in 2026.  Designed in the popular Queen Anne Style, they were completed in 1889.  Like the other four houses, the basement and parlor levels of 146 West 74th Street were clad in rough-cut brownstone and the upper floors in red brick.  A dog-legged box stoop rose to the double-doored entrance, protected by a stone hood decorated with foliate designs and turret-like finials.

A charming three-sided bay above the entrance supported a small balcony to the third floor.  The transoms at the first through third floors were filled with colorful stained glass, while the upper sashes of the top floor were divided into multiple panes, typical of the Queen Anne style.

This photograph of the row in 1940 shows the stained glass transoms and upper Queen Anne-style sashes intact.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The house was purchased by John and Catharine Brosnan.  The couple had five children, John Jr., Loretto G., Mary T., Angela M., and Francis Xavier.

Born in Ireland, John Brosnan came to New York City at around 15 or 16 years old.  He listed his profession as "grocer;" however, his business at 157 Fulton Street was more accurately described as a saloon and wine importer.  

An ardent Roman Catholic, he did not operate a rowdy, disreputable establishment.  The New York Times would later say that he was "well known among wine traders throughout the United States" and that he "made a specialty of importing Spanish, Portuguese, and other wines not only into this country...but also to various countries of Europe."  He also suppled altar wine to many Roman Catholic churches.

Opened in 1850, Brosnan's operation was not opulent.  The New York Herald would later say, "The fittings were crude in their simplicity but they lent a distinctive atmosphere to the place.  They consisted chiefly of plain sawed oak with heavy cage wire to protect the bottle shelves.  A cash register never found its way into the establishment."  The New York Sun would add, "The old ale pumps, bright like those of venerable English inns, shine benevolently out of the dim background."

Nearly revered was a table in a rear room.  Called the Garibaldi Table, it was there in 1850, according to The Sun, that "Garibaldi planned the liberation of Italy."  On February 2, 1919, the newspaper would recall:

The room where Garibaldi assembled his junta is just as it was in his day.  In the middle of it is a ponderous table with massive curlycue legs and topped with an octagonal slab of red marble.

The "Garibaldi Table" could be admired, but no one was permitted to sit at it.  The Sun, February 2, 1919 (copyright expired)

Francis Xavier Brosnan was enrolled in Columbia University's School of Mines when the family moved in.  He would graduate with a civil engineering degree.  Upon his marriage to Mathilda Claire Jones, the population of 146 West 74th Street increased by one.  Sadly, Mathilda died on September 9, 1896.  Her funeral was held in the parlor on September 12 followed by a solemn requiem mass at Francis Xavier's Church on West 16th Street.

During a severe snow storm on the evening of February 13, 1899, the three Brosnan daughters entertained friends.  At 9:00 John, Catherine and Francis went to bed.  Two hours later, the sisters' guests left.  The New York Herald reported, "They had just put out the lights and gone to bed when one of them smelled smoke coming from the basement and awakened their parents."

The New York Times reported, "A citizen turned in an alarm," but the fire engines were severely hampered by the snowdrifts.  The New York Herald said that at Columbus Avenue and 74th Street, "Both got stuck in the snow.  The firemen had to drag the lines of hose up to the house, which was in the middle of the block, and by that time the flames had gained a good headway."  The family (except John) hurriedly dressed and ran to the Burke house across the street.  "Instead of making his escape or attempting to dress, Mr. Brosnan, who is about seventy years old, devoted his efforts to save a grand piano that was in the parlor where the floor was burning."

When firefighters arrived, they found Brosnan "dressed in a nightgown and an overcoat, trying to push the piano from the parlor into the hall," according to the New York Herald.  He was "in imminent danger of going with the instrument through the burning floor into the flames below," said The New York Times.  Despite his protest, the firefighters carried Brosnan through the waist-high snowdrifts to the Burke house.  

There, Catharine exclaimed that she had laid her diamond earrings on the dresser.  George Patterson, an underwriter who had arrived along with the firefighters, overheard this.  He ran into the burning house, found the jewelry, and brought it to Catharine.  When the blaze was extinguished, the New York Herald said, "The two upper floors of the house were badly damaged."  The New York Times reported the damages at $8,000 to the structure and $10,000 in furnishings.  (The total loss would translate to about $721,000 today.)

There was more significant collateral damage unknown at the time.  On March 7, 1899, the New York Herald wrote, "John Brosnan, an importer of wines and groceries who was widely known throughout the country, died on Saturday at his home, 146 West Seventy-fourth street, after an illness of two weeks."  His death was attributed to "shock and exposure to the cold on the night of February 13, when Mr. Brosnan's house was partially wrecked by fire."  Because of the fire damage to the house, Brosnan's funeral was held at the Church of the Blessed Sacrament on 71st Street and Broadway.

Francis X. Brosnan never remarried, nor did his sisters marry.  The women were active in society, however.  On February 3, 1907, for instance, the New York Herald reported, "Miss Angela Brosnan recently entertained the members of the Thursday Matinee Whist Club at her home, No. 146 West Seventy-fourth Street.  Miss Nora Costello won the prize for the best playing."

Like Mary J. Coar, who erected the Brosnan house, Mary and Angela Brosnan engaged in real estate operations.  They bought and rented properties singly or together throughout the first decades of the 20th century.  (Their sister, Loretto G. Brosnan, died on March 1, 1909.)  

On April 18, 1910, the New-York Tribune reported that Mary T. Brosnan leased her father's saloon from the estate.  She and Angela continued to wheel and deal in real estate.  On June 20, 1911, The New York Times reported that Mary had purchased a Christopher Street property for $6,500, and on April 24, 1912, the Board of Aldermen reported that the sisters had leased 22 Vandam Street "for the use of the Department of Health as a Tuberculosis Clinic."

 

A view of Brosnan's just before Prohibition closed it forever.  The Sun, February 2, 1919 (copyright expired)

In October 1919, Congress passed the Volstead Act, which would usher in Prohibition.  It meant the end of the venerable Brosnan's on Fulton Street.  The Brosnan siblings sold their lease on the property and newspapers throughout the city lamented the barroom's closing.  On March 7, 1920, The Sun remarked that Prohibition:

...wiped out Brosnan's saloon at 157 Fulton street.  Here, however, the heirs of old John Brosnan, who founded the business, were only too glad to accept the handsome price offered them by the bank for their lease on the property, for the Brosnan establishment was renowned for good whiskey and its mellow and potent old ale on draught.

Angela M. Brosnan died in the house on April 19, 1920.  Her funeral was held in the Church of the Blessed Sacrament on the 21st.  

Five years later, on November 7, 1925, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that 146 West 74th Street had been sold.  "It is the first sale of the parcel in 35 years," said the article.  The purchaser was another Irish native, John Carway.

Carway was the proprietor of two restaurants--the Dublin Club on the second floor of 149 East 42nd Street and The Dublin on 82nd Street and Amsterdam Avenue.  Only months after he purchased the former Brosnan house, on March 13, 1926, the Irish-American newspaper The Advocate reported, "A branch of the Dublin restaurant...has been opened at 146 West 74th street, under the name of the 'Dublin House."  The article said, "Both are under the management of Mr. Caraway [sic], a well-known Dublin man and caterer."  Carway's opening advertisement called the restaurant, "A rendezvous for gourmets; discriminating people appreciate exclusiveness."

On May 7, 1926, The New York Times said the Dublin House "occupies a dwelling.  Its patronage consists largely of the sporting element and theatrical people.  It is known as one of the 'high-class' eating places of Manhattan and has a large bar."  It was that large bar that got Carway into trouble.  A week before The Times' article, Government agents "seized $3,000 worth of liquor there," said the article.

The incident seems to have rehabilitated John Carway's operation.  At least for a time.  On April 1, 1932, The New York Times reported, "Another raid was made on the Dublin House, 146 West Seventy-fourth Street, a restaurant occupying three floors."  The Prohibition agents seized 75 bottles and arrested Carway and three waiters.

By 1943, 146 West 74th Street was operated as a rooming house.   When it was sold in September that year, The New York Times described it as a "remodeled rooming house."  It was purchased by Mary Mackay in May 1950.  She was the president of the newly formed 146 West 74th Street, Inc.

A renovation in 1972 resulted in duplex and triplex apartments.  Another remodeling, completed in 1988, added a penthouse level, unseen from the sidewalk.   Despite the unfortunate loss of the stained glass transoms and the Queen Anne upper floor sashes, the Brosnan house survives remarkably intact.

photographs by the author

The Lost Eldridge Street Jail - 22 Eldrige Street

22 Eldridge Street is the three-story building, second from left.  Close inspection of the single unshuttered window reveals iron bars.  from D. T. Valentine's Manual, 1860 (copyright expired)

On December 9, 1856, the New-York Daily Tribune reminisced about Eldridge Street, saying it "was not many years ago the northern limit of the city, and whilom [i.e., formerly] a quarter where many of the ancient Knickerbockers had their residences, and where, in ancient days...houses were built upon solid foundations."  The article pointed out 22 Eldridge Street, "between Division and Walker now, or soon to be called Canal."  A wealthy citizen who erected that residence, said the journalist, "probably intended [that it ] should shelter him and his children, and his children's children, even unto the third and fourth generation."  He mulled:

How little he thought that the time would come when the mansion-house would be converted, as it was, into a public school-house, instead of a dwelling for his children!

The writer was recalling the Hart & Belden school, which occupied part of the handsome, Georgian-style mansion by 1822.  The proprietors leased the building from the city, which, strangely enough, reserved the upper portion for a watch-house.  (Watch-houses were used as bases for night watchmen and for temporarily holding prisoners.)  

The privy in the rear yard, intended for a single family when erected, was sorely overused at the time.  The Minutes of the Common Council on April 29, 1822 described "the yard attached to the Watch house [is] in a filthy & offensive State and having become highly offensive to its occupants."  A resolution was passed to install a cesspool on the property.

In 1824, the building was leased to Seely & Olmstead, who continued to oversee the school.  The Minutes of the Common Council on April 26 that year reported that Seely & Olmstead "beg leave to state that there are Some Repairs absolutely necessary to be done for the preservation of the Building."  The Council allocated $25 to $30 to make repairs to the "upper part of the Watch house."

The type of temporary incarcerations in the Watch-House was exemplified in a January 29, 1839 article in The Evening Post.   The coroner was called to examine "the body of a man named Edward Norton, who was on Sunday night found drunk in the street, and brought to the Watch House by a Watchman, and died in the course of the night.  Verdict--death from intemperance."  

The bizarre symbiotic school-and-watch-house arrangement came to an end in 1841.  On May 11, the Board of Assistant Aldermen approved a resolution for " altering the Old Watching in to a Debtor's Prison."

The first debtor's prison in New York, according to Philip Klein's 1920 book Prison Methods in New York State, was opened in 1699.  The irony of the concept was that anyone could have the person who owed him money incarcerated, and that incarceration made the prisoner's ability to earn money to repay his accuser impossible.  In 1856, the New-York Tribune would remark, "Imprisonment for debt, in any form, is looked upon by us as a relic of a barbarous age," and yet the Debtor's Prison went on.

According to the newspaper on December 9, 1856, the parlor and second floors held ten cells each, "six upon one side and four on the other--seven single and three double, and of course only those next the front and rear walls are lighted, except at second hand through the cell doors opening into the hall."  The second floor was reserved for "United States prisoners."  In the basement were the kitchen and accommodations for the jailor's family.  The top floor was a single, large room outfitted with cots and could hold 35 "poor debtors."

Among the first to be jailed here was Lawrence Connelly, a recent immigrant.  Under the Federal Militia Act of 1792, all able-bodied white male citizens from 18 to 45 were required to enroll in the state militia.  Connelly and his family occupied a rear room at 59 Cross Street.  The New-York Tribune reported on January 1, 1842, "A notice to train [i.e. enroll] was left for him, in a front room, but he, residing in a back apartment, never saw or heard of it."  Connelly was arrested for "the non-performance of Militia duty, though he is an alien," reported the article.

The enraged newspaper titled its article "Military Despotism" and said, "He is without a dollar, while his family are without the necessaries of life, and suffering from sickness."  Mrs. Connelly went to "the Colonel" who told her "her husband may be let off upon the payment of the jail expenses."  The $5 fee--equal to $200 in 2026--"is utterly beyond their means," said the New-York Tribune.  The newspaper pleaded, "Will someone who has an extra five dollar bill see that this poor man is liberated this morning?"

The "jail expenses" that the Connellys faced was yet another ironic element of the debtor's prison.  The jailer was given the discretion of fixing "the price of board" for the prisoners.  And unlike other civic institutions, which were governed by the city, the jailer was not salaried.  Instead "this is a fee-office," explained the New-York Daily Tribune.  The newspaper noted, "It is an office where the incumbent must be strongly tempted to peculate upon the prisoners."  (In 1856, there was a fee of $1.50 "for receiving and discharging a prisoner," and a weekly "boarding fee.")

Not all prisoners were debtors.  A young woman arrived in New York City from France in 1843.  The National Anti-Slavery Standard reported on September 21 that she "was betrayed by a fellow in this city, under promise of marriage."  The woman told her friends of "the outrageous means to which he had forced her to resort to conceal the crime."  [Translated to 21st century terms: he had forced her to abort the pregnancy.]  Because the story spread, her former lover sued her for slander and she was locked up in the Eldridge Street Prison.  

The Eldridge Street Prison quickly earned a gruesome reputation.  On December 17, 1845, The Evening Post described it as "that loathsome abode" where "inhumanity and rascality are practised upon the unfortunate."

Perhaps the first instance of slaves being held here came in 1847.  The slave ship Lembranca was seized and the slaves brought to the Eldridge Street prison for holding.  Although slavery had been outlawed in New York for years, New York City's sympathies were, for the most part, with the South and those industries (like cotton) that were so important to New York City's finances.  On August 12, 1847, the National Anti-Slavery Standard reported that Judge Edwards had remanded the custody of the slaves to the Lembranca's captain.  

In response to the abolitionists who feared for the slaves' fates, the captain, "generously consented to take $300 each for them, affirming that they would be worth $500 each in Brazil," reported the newspaper.  The abolitionists took matters in their own hands.  When the captain arrived on August 9 to retrieve the slaves, they were gone.  The National Anti-Slavery Standard reported, "On Sunday night they were safe in their cells when the keeper retired to rest.  In the morning they were not to be found, though the keys of the keeper remained where he had put them the night before, on his table."

An article in the February 1856 issue of The Prisoners' Friend described the conditions here.  It said "the Jail in Eldridge street is a place of suffering, and a standing monument of public injustice."  If the prisoners "behave well," they were allowed to walk around in the corridor between cells.  "If noisy, or disobedient, they are sometimes confined for days in the cells."  At the end of the corridor was a single water closet "and this too is the place for washing."  The article continued:

Thither male and female, white and black, without any screen of decency other than the closet door, are forced to repair, and in the gradual loss of delicacy, moral and physical, stone for the crime of debt.

Charles Carpentier committed what newspapers termed The Great French Railway Fraud in 1856.  A cashier of the North Railway Company, he and his accomplices, Eugene and Louis Grelet, embezzled $1 million--nearly 40 times that much today--and fled to the United States.  

The Grelet brothers were captured and imprisoned in the Eldridge Street Jail.  Eugene Grelet would never leave.  On May 22, 1857, the New-York Daily Tribune reported, "A fortnight since his health began to decline, and the disease soon took the form of an inflammation of the brain."  Eugene Grelet died in the jail on May 21.  Many wondered what actually precipitated the young man's death.

On July 23, 1860, the slave brig William R. Kirby was captured by a United States steamer.  The crew had fled, "leaving their breakfast uneaten upon the table," said The New York Times.  The William R. Kirby arrived in New York City on August 13.  In searching the vessel, three young boys were discovered hiding in the hold.  About 12 or 14 years old, they were naked other than "trinkets of brass and copper" hung around their necks.  The boys were taken to the Eldridge Street Prison "where they will be comfortably quartered until they are wanted as witnesses against the vessel," said the article.  (How they were expected to testify is unclear, since, of course, the African youths did not speak English.)

After visiting the Eldridge Street Jail in the fall of 1860 and seeing the boys fed, a writer wrote to the editor of the New-York Dispatch.  His racist recount said in part:

If you will call about the time rations are served...you will see them served to the prisoners, worse than any decent man would feed his hogs.  You will see wild African boys from the coast of Africa, captured from a slaver, rushing foremost for their supplies, half naked, and with unwashed hands, howling their gibberish, while respectable gentlemen, who are retained here merely on ex parte and malicious affidavits, charging debt and fraud, but totally unsupported, are compelled to stand back until these semi-savages are served.

In 1862, the new Ludlow Street Jail opened and replaced the Eldridge Street facility.  No. 22 Eldridge Street was leased to John Connelly in March 1864 "at $490 per annum," according to the New-York Tribune.  (The annual rent would translate to about $10,400 in 2026 terms.)   He converted it to a rooming house.

The city sold the property to Connelly in April 1867 for $9,900.  In reporting the sale, the New-York Tribune described it as being "formerly the 'Eldridge-st. Jail.'  The building is of brick, about 25 feet front and 55 feet in depth.  It is rather old and somewhat dilapidated."

Connelly demolished the vintage structure later that year.  It was replaced by a four-story Italianate-style brick building that survives.

photograph by Secret Egypt