from the collection of the New York Public Library
Higgins chose to build on the site of the recently burnt LaFarge Hotel, on the west side of Broadway just above Bleecker Street. Here Englebert created another Second Empire confection–what James D. McCabe, Jr. called in 1882 “a monster establishment.” The marble-fronted hotel rose eight stories with a dramatic mansard roof. The largest hotel in the United States, it boasted 630 rooms.
As the structure rose, The New York Times reported on November 11, 1869, “Three elevators, which will perform the trip from the first floor to the attic in thirty seconds, will be in use for the benefit of guests night and day. One item alone - upholstery and furniture - will involve an expenditure of $1,000,000. the articles mentioned having been ordered from Paris and this city."
The article continued, "The halls and rooms will require carpeting sufficient to cover seven acres, and will be of the finest quality--Brussels and velvet. All the rooms will be heated with steam, and on each floor hydrants, hose, and everything necessary will be furnished to extinguish fire. There will be three large dining-rooms extending from the main hall on the second story to the Mercer street wall, the largest of which will accommodate 500 guests. There are at present; 350 men employed on the building.” The total cost was to exceed $1.6 million.
Higgins' hotel was an instant success. Diamond Jim Brady and Lillian Russell patronized its dining rooms. In 1876 meetings were held here which resulted in the formation of the American Baseball League. It was here on the winding marble staircase in 1872 that Jim Fisk was murdered. In its eight ballrooms, well-dressed ladies and their escorts waltzed under gas-lit chandeliers.
The name of the hotel changed throughout the years from The Broadway Southern Hotel to the Grand Central Hotel, to the Broadway Grand Hotel and, in 1892, to the Broadway Central when Tilly Haynes took over. Haynes spent $150,000 to bring the hotel up to date. In its New Reference Map and Guide to New York City, Rand, McNally & Company said that the hotel "has been entirely refitted, refurnished, artistically decorated throughout, and provided with all the appliances of convenience and luxury which the science and taste of the day can suggest."
"Few hotels so handsome, and none whatever so comfortable, exist in the city as the new Broadway Central, with its magnificent halls, grand staircases, and splendid parlors occupying its entire Broadway front."
In 1923 wealthy businessman Meyer G. Manischewitz purchased the property. Once again the interior was renovated. Manishewitz added a $12,000 marble floor inlaid with a large brass Star of David and the name of the hotel in English and Yiddish. Before long the hotel had established a reputation as providing the best kosher banquets in Manhattan. The New Yorker, in 1934, wrote that the Broadway Central offered “seven sets of period rooms for wedding purposes, each set consisting of a reception-room, a bride’s room, a dining-room and a ballroom.”
from the collection of the New York Public Library
Both the area and the hotel declined, however, and a year after Henry Dercher and Matilda Edwards bought the building in May of 1969, they were taking in welfare clients at $5 per night with as many as seven people to a room. Occupants complained of rats, exposed wiring, prostitutes and drug addicts. A child fell to her death into an unprotected stairwell. Attorney General Louis Lefkowitz attempted to shut down the hotel, exhibiting glossy photos of garbage piled in the hallways and calling it “a squalid den of vice and iniquity.”
On December 27, 1971, Supreme Court Justice Irving Saypol ordered the owners to end the use of the building as “a haven for criminals and as a source of harassment to the people of the neighborhood.” The State of New York had cited the hotel as “an open and notorious public nuisance,” a “base of operations” for criminals and “a market and meeting place for drug pushers and drug addicts.”
In the meantime, other problems were arising. Tenants called the city warning about cracks and bulges in the interior walls and façade. Various people wrote to the Department of Buildings. In February 1973, a Building Department inspector noted that a wall “was bulging about a foot” from the second to the sixth floor. He posted a violation. Nothing was done.
Thenm on Friday, August 3, at 2:30 in the afternoon Gene Frankel heard the walls groaning. At 5:10 plaster started falling from the ceiling. Minutes later the Broadway Central Hotel crashed onto Broadway in a cloud of brick, marble and plaster dust.
Amazingly, of the 350 residents, only four died. Elias Higgins’ palatial hotel which The New York Times had once called “one of the largest and most magnificent hotels on the Western Continent” was gone. Months of finger-pointing and law suits ensued. The needless loss of one of New York’s great architectural treasures to neglect and greed resulted in heightened public awareness of the plight of threatened historic properties.
On December 27, 1971, Supreme Court Justice Irving Saypol ordered the owners to end the use of the building as “a haven for criminals and as a source of harassment to the people of the neighborhood.” The State of New York had cited the hotel as “an open and notorious public nuisance,” a “base of operations” for criminals and “a market and meeting place for drug pushers and drug addicts.”
Thenm on Friday, August 3, at 2:30 in the afternoon Gene Frankel heard the walls groaning. At 5:10 plaster started falling from the ceiling. Minutes later the Broadway Central Hotel crashed onto Broadway in a cloud of brick, marble and plaster dust.
Amazingly, of the 350 residents, only four died. Elias Higgins’ palatial hotel which The New York Times had once called “one of the largest and most magnificent hotels on the Western Continent” was gone. Months of finger-pointing and law suits ensued. The needless loss of one of New York’s great architectural treasures to neglect and greed resulted in heightened public awareness of the plight of threatened historic properties.
It is my understanding that the owner of St Adrian's, the bar in the basement, removed
ReplyDeletea support beam that caused patrons to bump their heads when moving from one room to another
in the bar. This is what caused the walls to bulge and collapse. Behind the hotel was a loft building, at the time housing the popular Mercer Arts Center, also had to be torn down.
Interesting information! Thanks.
ReplyDeleteI was at the St. Adrian Company around early-to-spring 1972. It was a tavern that occupied one of the street-level shopfronts, just south of the main entrance. The old sign, in "Broadway"-style (Art Deco) font, read "Casino." It may have been left over from the glory days of the 1930s. Above the bar was a mural, a montage of 17th-century Dutch portraits and groups, nicely done. I don't recall it as being a basement establishment.
ReplyDeleteLinda - you are correct. St. Adrian's was on street level. My friends and I spent just about every Friday and Saturday evening there and even once in a while Sunday mornings (they had poetry reading on Sunday). It was a great place and I have so many great memories of the place, the people and the general atmosphere of the bar. We became good friends with the bartenders. I remember Mike (a bearded fellow) and Charlie (I think that was his name). There also was a third regular bartender whose name escapes me. The mural over the bar was sold. Mike had told us that the artist who painted it gained some fame, so the owners of the bar removed it, had it professionally cleaned and sold it.
DeleteYes, indeed, St. Adrian's was at street level. So glad I could find these memories you've preserved. When I returned to NYC in 72 or 73 for a visit, I tried to find the bar but it wasn't there, and I never knew what happened. Although I was there only a few times, I loved the place and never forgot it to this day. There was something very special about the atmosphere, the lighting, the furnishings the tranquility of the patrons and staff. It was like walking back into another century. I always hoped it would always be there -- unchanged.
DeleteTony, you are right. The weekend bartenders were Mike and Charlie, both huge men. I was there in 71-72 and the place was amazing, in fact, unforgettable. It was an eclectic mix of Warhol people, musicians, businessmen, students, drug dealers, et al. It was a funkier version of Max's KC, which was my next stop after St. A closed.
DeleteThe painting was a copy of Frans Hals' "Banquet of the St. Adrian's Company" and was painted by John Clem Clark. Jerry, the day bartender at Max's split to St. Adrian's hoping to bring his loyal customers with him.
DeleteI have this piece of memorabilia from the bar if anyone is interested: https://imgur.com/s5A3BPc
ReplyDeleteSend an offer to my sons email: wickedwill24@gmail.com
Are you aware that there was a life-sized diorama of the shooting in the staircase where the shooting occurred?
ReplyDeleteNo. That's interesting to know. Where was it?
DeleteThank you, Tom and all who contributed to this discussion about St. Adrian's! A group of us went at least once a week, dressed in glam 1940s thrift shop garb, and sat at a big table in the back. We thought we were so cool!
ReplyDeleteI ws there. 1940s clothes and all!
DeleteWe sat at the back under the big mural!
DeleteI was a NYU student living in the east village. I remember it as a very welcoming and comfortable place where patrons could bring their dogs with them. On many evenings actor Peter Boyle was a fixture at the bar. Good memories.
ReplyDeleteIn 1964, the hotel hosted the very first New York Comic-Con. That event was attended by just a few hundre, unlike the modern conventions which are attended by hundreds of thousands. I remember the wide marble-lined hallways.
ReplyDelete