Under neon billboards only the bones of Cyrus Eidlitz's Italian Renaissance Times Building survive. photo by TastyPoutine |
Until the last years of the 19th century New York’s
newspapers were centered on Park Row, knicknamed “Newspaper Row,” in lower
Manhattan. James Gordon Bennett, Jr.
made a gutsy decision in 1893 to abandon the newspaper district and following
the northward expansion of commerce. He
leased the triangular plot of land at the intersection of Broadway and 6th
Avenue, between 35th and 36th Streets—an oddly shaped
piece of land that would become Herald Square.
A decade later The New York Times would follow, going even
further uptown. At the turn of the
century Longacre Square was somewhat overlooked. The center of Manhattan’s carriage building
industry, it was named after Long Acre in London—that city’s carriage
center. But the nearby Grand Central
train station on 42nd Street and the proposed Pennsylvania Station
on 34th spelled doom for the old buildings of Longacre Square. Already theaters had begun moving here from
the 23rd Street entertainment district.
In 1898 the Lyceum Theatre sat at the corner of 42nd Street and Broadway -- photo by Byron Company, Valentine's Manual of New York (copyright expired) |
By August 4, 1902, when The New York Times made its
surprising announcement, modern hotels and theaters had already begun to dot
the urban landscape. Like The Herald, the
newspaper had acquired a triangular-shaped plot. It was bounded by Broadway, West 42nd
Street, and Seventh Avenue and The Times said it “will at once begin the
erection thereon of a large modern steel-construction building, primarily for
its own use.” The announcement named
Cyrus L. W. Eidlitz, son of influential architect Leopold Eidlitz, as the
architect.
Most of the plot of land was taken up by the once upscale
Pabst Hotel. Otto Strach, one of its
architects, put the cost of the building at $225,000 and its interior
decorative work at $60,000. The New-York
Tribune said of it “The Pabst Hotel prided itself upon its bar and its
rathskeller. No money was spared to make
both attractive.” But the handsome hotel
would have to make way for the 20th century.
In 1902 demolition of the Pabst Hotel began. New-York Tribune, December 7, 1902 (copyright expired) |
On June 27, 1903 The Times published the first rendering of
its intended building. An article
explained to readers that the bulk of the newspaper’s activity would be
subterranean—the press and stereotyping rooms, for instance. The newspaper offices would be on the ground
floor, the composing room would be high above on the 16th floor, and
the 15th floor would house the newspaper's business offices. The majority of the upper building would be
leased. The Times was quick to point out
that the “detachment of the site” made possible windows on all sides; a
tremendous marketing asset and, in the days before air conditioning and a
considerable plus for tenants.
Cyrus L. W. Eidlitz first released the above sketch in 1902. Architects' and Builders' Magazine, March 1905 (copyright expired) |
Eidlitz designed what would be the second tallest building
in Manhattan and drew his inspiration from Giotto’s campanile in Florence. While the Pabst Hotel had faced 42nd
Street, looking southward to the city, Adolph Ochs, publisher of The New York Times
and Eidlitz realized that the future was to the north. The Times Building would turn its back to 42nd
Street and look uptown. Its 375-foot
tall tower would diminish the neighboring buildings, and its elaborate
decoration would astound.
Eidlitz created a five-story base of pink Milford granite
above which were 13 floors of sand-blasted, cream colored terra cotta, followed
by the impressive tower. As the building
rose in 1903, The Times kept readers abreast, reporting on details like the
nearly 16 foot ceiling in the main hall and the marble wainscoting. “The
doors are to be made of red oak. In
every detail of finishing the contractors are to exercise the greatest care in
their selections, and their contracts call for the best quality and most
advanced designs in every device or appurtenance upon which will depend the
comfort of those who occupy the building,” said the newspaper on October 25
that year.
The lobby was clad in heavily veined marble -- Architects' and Builders' Magazine, March 1905 (copyright expired) |
Cyrus L. W. Eidlitz, who worked on the project with his partner Andrew C.
McKenzie, proudly stated “And it is well worth noting that not a
single piece of the stone in that building has ever touched Manhattan Island.”
Early in 1904, as the Times Building neared completion,
August Belmont made the suggestion that Longacre Square be renamed Times
Square. On April 5 the Board of Alderman
met and approved the name change. “There
was not a single dissenting voice to the proposition,” reported The Times the
following day.
The Italian Renaissance style skyscraper (erroneously termed
“Gothic” by The Times) opened in September to critical acclaim. Brooklyn Life newspaper said “The new Times
Building across the river offers abundant evidence that if we must have
skyscrapers they need not necessarily be ugly.”
Three months later, on New Year’s Eve, marketing genius
Adolph Ochs, set off fireworks from the top of the building. A crowd of about 200,000 people crammed into
Times Square to watch. It was just the
beginning of a New York tradition involving the Times Building and New Year’s
Eve.
At the time the problem of keeping one’s pocket watch accurately
set was solved worldwide by the time ball. Tall
poles which pierced large balls, usually made of copper, were erected on high
buildings. Triggered by telegraph
signals from an observatory—in New York they came from the U. S. Naval
Observatory in Washington D.C.—the balls would drop precisely at noon. Businessmen with craned necks waited for that
moment to reset their watched.
In 1907 Ochs hatched another plan. He had the newspaper’s chief electrician,
Walter F. Palmer, build a electrically-lit time ball that would drop from a
flagpole atop the Times Building exactly at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Ochs could have had no inkling of what he had
just begun.
In 1912 people passing the Times Building miraculously were
unscathed when a 150-pound coping stone fell from the 16th floor to
the pavement below. “A dozen persons,
most of them young girls on their way to lunch from the office buildings in the
vicinity were endangered by the falling stone,” reported The Evening World on
April 2.
The newspaper (which preferred to ignore the renaming of the
Square, now eight years old) related the panic of one near-victim. “One man was
missed by not more than three feet. As
the stone landed right behind him he pulled his hat down on his head and
started up through Long Acre Square regardless of traffic. When last seen he was passing Forty-seventh
street in the middle of Broadway and going strong.”
Along with The New York Times, the building filled with
offices like that of the Banking Department of the State of New York on the 6th
Floor. In 1914 the department offered “building
lots, houses and bungalows at prices which are conceded to be REAL BARGAINS.”
Before its move to Hollywood, New York City was still the
center of the motion picture industry, and the Advisory Board of Motion Picture
Directors had its offices in the building.
On July 24, 1918, with Europe embroiled in World War I, The Evening
World reported that the Board “wants to produce some pictures which will help
in all forms of war work.” James
Vincent, Secretary of the Board, requested writers to send their plot ideas to
him. “Mr. Vincent says he hopes the
country’s best writers will help out along this line.”
The ornate Times Building was the anchor of Times Square and
visitors from the world over marveled at its noble triangular presence for
decades. Inside thousands of employees
would come and go; perhaps none of the non-writing personnel quite as
remarkable as William White.
White was a “husky mechanic who is helping to install new
elevators,” according to The Times on September 7, 1947. A Bronx native he had held the job of
elevator mechanic for about 12 years. But,
as the newspaper said, “There’s no telling where a concert singer will turn up.” And this one turned up singing in a Times
Building elevator shaft.
The Irish tenor had been discovered in 1944 on the "Major
Bowes Amateur Hour." Now on October 3, a
month after The Times article, he was slated to give a concert in the Carnegie
Recital Hall.
In 1928 The Times installed its famous “zipper” headliner
around the building. The innovative
outdoor message board announced breaking news to the passersby with moving
headlines. It was one more seed that
blossomed into Times Square tradition.
The New York Times moved into its new headquarters a
block to the west in 1961. The building was
purchased by Douglas Leigh and renamed the Allied Chemical Building. He was already famous for his iconic Times
Square billboards like the smoking Camel cigarette sign. Leigh commissioned the architectural firm of
Smith, Smith, Haines, Lundberg & Waehler to modernize the Edwardian
structure.
And modernize they did.
The firm peeled off the ornate terra cotta and granite façade,
replacing it with concrete panels interspersed with flat marble slabs. But the 60s Modern design would eventually be
lost to view as well.
In March 1995 Lehman Brothers purchased the property for
$27.5 million. The financial services
firm felt that the rent-producing potential of the building's exterior outweighed
that of the interior. A grid frame was
installed over the entire structure to support advertising. Only the ground floor was kept as leasable
space.
One Times Square was sold in 1997 to the Jamestown Group for
$117 million. Today the pie-shaped former
Times Building is cocooned in neon advertising.
The interior offices and hallways--where New York Times reporters
scurried about and where motion picture executives read over war-time screen
plays—are dark and deserted.
There may be nothing left of Cyrus Eidlitz’s Italian
Renaissance skyscraper; but One Times Square lives on in its electric message
board and its New Year’s Eve ball drop—ideas of Adolph Ochs more than a century
earlier.
Your bottom-most illustration shows not the former Times Building but the current Renaissance Times Square Hotel. The view looks North, not South.
ReplyDeleteWhoa! Thanks! (removed)
DeleteNot at all. Happens to me too.
Deletethe design if Francis I, with interspersing of gothic detail, the facade did change twice as was seen in "New York 1960" , so sad.
ReplyDelete