Charles Crane's grocery store and home were at 734 and 736 Washington Street in 1844. That year he partnered with carman David Ramsey, to erect four matching houses almost directly across the street at 733 to 739 Washington Street. Completed in 1845, they were faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone. Each was three stories tall above English basements. Their Greek Revival design featured handsome entranceways with narrow sidelights, transoms, and pilasters that embraced the paneled doors.
Ramsey took 737 Washington Street for his family. In 1845, they shared it another carman (a delivery wagon driver), James A. Bogart, and John B. Zabriskie, who was a "boatman," a repairer of boats on the nearby riverfront.
By the early 1850s, the Henry Corse family owned 737 Washington Street. Corse was in the feed business at 401 West Street. He and his wife had at least one son, Samuel. Henry Corse, additionally, bought and sold Greenwich Village real estate.
Boarding with the family in 1853 were Mary Pulis, the widow of David Pulis, and her daughter Kate. In 1855, the Corses' boarders were Harriett Phillips, the widow of Charles S. Phillips, and Ezekiel McDonnell, a laborer.
On Saturday night, June 16, 1855, McDonnell went to a porter-house on West Street, between Troy Street (today's West 12th) and Gansevoort Street. There, "at a late hour," according to The New York Times, he got into a quarrel with other working men. The newspaper said, "The dispute getting pretty warm, the parties left the liquor-store somewhat intoxicated, and renewed the quarrel on the street."
The argument turned physical, with McDonnell fighting a laborer named William White. At one point, White picked up a three-pound paving stone and "battered in the skull of Ezekiel McDonnell." White was immediately arrested and McDonnell was brought back to 737 Washington Street where physicians said, "it was impossible that he can survive."
In 1857, the Corse family's boarders were George Goodheart, the deputy clerk of the Washington Market; and Hypolite Lacour (sometimes spelled Lecour), a maker of watchcases. The latter remained here for at least another year.
The family left town in 1865, at least for the summer months. On March 4, an advertisement in the New York Herald read, "To let, a three story House, 737 Washington street, from 1st day of May, gas and Croton water. Inquire at 737 Washington street. Henry Corse."
The mention of illuminating gas and Croton water was notable, revealing that the Corse house had the latest in updated conveniences.
Following Samuel Corse's wedding, he brought his bride, Elizabeth Antoinette, to 737 Washington Street. In September 1867, they named their newborn son, Henry, after the boy's grandfather.
Tragically, Elizabeth Antoinette died on October 23, 1869. Her funeral was held here three days later. Less than a year-and-a-half later, on March 13, 1871, little Henry Corse died. His funeral, too, was held in the parlor.
In the mid-1880s, Almi De Schempfeleere was described by The New York Times as, "an extensive manufacturer of gloves in Sottenghem [Belgium]." The newspaper said, "Eugenie Copenello was one of his favorite girls, and although he was more than 30 years her senior, she bore him two children." When De Schempfeleere got into financial trouble, he turned to forgery. "He went at it on a large scale," said The New York Times, his forgeries amounting to 90,000 francs by early 1885 (about $78,200 in American dollars in 2024).
De Schempfeleere fled with Eugenie Copenello and the two children to America, landing in New York City in December 1885. The New York Times said that he had presumably brought the "proceeds of his forgery with him." He and his family found rooms in the basement of 737 Washington Street and De Schempfeleere found a job doing "homework" for a glove maker on Broadway.
In March 1887, the Belgian Government traced De Schempfeleere to New York. United States Deputy Marshall Bernhardt took up the case on this side of the Atlantic. By April, detectives had tracked the family to 737 Washington Street. The New York Times explained that two detectives kept the house under constant surveillance.
Night and day the occupants of the basement were watched. Seldom did the man let the woman go out. Not more than once in two months were the two children seen on the sidewalks. Only to go to the factories with gloves finished and return with gloves to be stitched, and on occasion to the corner grocery for scanty supplies, did De Schempfeleere himself leave the dismal home he made for Eugenie and her two little girls.
At first receiving the reports, Marshall Bernhardt had sent for photographs of the suspects. The Times said, "he thought it queer that a man who had run away with 90,000f. should live so niggardly as the man he was watching." The photographs arrived, and, sure enough, they were of De Schempfeleere and Copenello. On June 29, 1887, De Schempfeleere was arrested in a nearby grocery store where he was purchasing a loaf of bread.
As it turned out, the detectives had moved in just in time. Deputy Bernhardt told reporters, "His idea was to save whatever of the money he had kept from the forgery, and after hiding himself away in this dirty retreat until the Belgian people had given up the search to leave the poor girl and live upon the money." What happened to Eugenie Copenello and the two girls is unclear.
By the early 1890s, the house was owned by Joseph Kennedy. He and his wife had a teenaged son, Thomas. The riverfront, just a block away from 737 Washington Street, was crime ridden and dangerous, and the neighborhood was filled with street gangs. In 1894, Thomas Kennedy was 15 years old and a member of the Dumpers gang.
On February 23 that year, the New York Herald reported on "several bloody battles yesterday afternoon between a couple of hundred lads who belong to various 'gangs' in the vicinity of Bank and Bethune streets." The gangs had been facing off for a week "and causing the police much trouble."
The gangs battled again on February 22. "The air was filled with flying missiles of all kinds and several lads were blazing away with small pistols." Among those firing handguns was Thomas Kennedy. Suddenly, one of the teens yelled, "Cop!" and the street warriors ran in all directions. Thomas Kennedy was not fast enough and was arrested. At the stationhouse he claimed "he had no intention of killing anyone." During the melee one boy was stabbed and another shot.
Thomas's father was affluent enough to afford a bicycle, a significant investment in 1896. On the evening of April 27 that year, Joseph Kennedy was riding up Eighth Avenue behind several other bicyclists. About five feet behind him was a "double truck." At the corner of 33rd Street, piano-polisher John Callanan was attempting to cross the street. The New York Sun reported, "Callanan appeared annoyed at having to wait so long." As Kennedy approached the intersection, Callanan had waited long enough.
The New York Evening Post reported that as a tandem bicycle passed Callanan, who was with a friend, he "struck out at the rear rider. When Kennedy was about to pass Callanan, the latter gave him a push that threw him from his wheel, and to save himself from being run over by the truck, he grasped the bridle of one of the horses." Kennedy was unhurt, but, "his wheel was demolished," according to the New York Evening Post. Callanan was fined $5 (about $187 today) and Kennedy had to walk home.
The family of John F. and Mary Quigg lived here by around 1910. The couple had a daughter, Agnes, born in September 1906. At 3:30 on the afternoon of March 5, 1911, Mary Quigg entered the Charles Street Police Station in a panic. The Evening World said, "Detectives learned that the little girl was seen walking through Bank street, near Greenwich street, at 1:30 o'clock with a roughly dressed man, who was carrying a shovel."
Happily, the New York Press reported that little Agnes was found later that afternoon. But, it added, "If the police had acted on the description of Agnes given by Mrs. Quigg, they probably never would have found her." Mary Quigg described her daughter as "clad in the daintiest of clothes, and for a child of her years she is as clean and as neat as can be."
When Detective Doyle noticed a four-year-old at the corner of 10th and Bleecker Streets enjoying a candy stick, he thought, "That can't be Agnes," reported the New York Press. During her adventure the little girl had changed. "The youngster's face was gummed and and colored with sugar and dye from the candy. Her hair was in a tangle, and her frock looked as though it had been in the street and run over by a truck or two." And the roughly dressed man with the shovel? The New York Press explained that Agnes had "left home earlier in the day and had gone tagging after a snow shoveler."
John F. Quigg died on January 5, 1918. As had been the case so often before, his funeral was held in the house three days later.
A fire escape in this 1941 photograph testifies to the unofficial apartments inside. image from the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.
Among the occupants of 737 Washington Street in the 1920s was Joseph Hand, who worked as a longshoreman for the Cunard Steamship line on the Hudson River piers. Two decades later, Francis Peter Samuels lived here when he went off to serve in World War II as a crewmember of the 71st U.S. Naval Construction Battalion.
When the war broke out, artist and printmaker Stanley William Hayter moved from Paris to New York City. Born in England in December 1901, he was regarded as one of the world's preeminent printmakers of the 20th century. While still living in Paris in 1927, he founded the studio Atelier 17, which was frequented by the likes of Marc Chagall, Pablo Picasso, Mark Rothko, and Wassily Kandinsky. While living in New York he founded the New York Atelier 17 and taught printmaking at the New School.
In an article in Art News in 1950, Ruthven Todd spoke of Hayter working in his studio on the top floor of 737 Washington Street on Marionette, an unusually large print for Hayter.
Marionette was among the works Hayter executed while living at 737 Washington Street.
The print was perhaps that last Haytner would complete while living here. He returned to Paris in 1950 and died there in 1988.
In the meantime, 737 Washington Street was converted to apartments, one per floor, in 1960. It was returned to a single family home in 2003.
photographs by the author
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