Born in Tappan, New Jersey on January 23, 1786, Cornelius T. Demarest earned his degree in theology at Columbia University in 1804. He married Margretta Lydecker in 1808 and the couple had one daughter, Penelope Doremus.
Rev. Demarest became the fourth pastor of the Dutch Reformed church in what was known as the English Neighborhood of New Jersey--the towns along the Hudson Palisades in Eastern Bergen County--on May 25, 1813. But within a decade a serious schism occurred. He and many of his congregation believed that the church had drifted away from the doctrine of the Dutch Reformed Church.
On February 18, 1824, the Classis of Bergen met, accusing Demarest of "abuse and false slanders uttered in private conversations" and of falsifying minutes of an earlier classis meeting. When he refused to appear to answer the charges, he was judged guilty and suspended from his ministry.
Undaunted, Rev. Demarest moved his family to New York City and organized the True Dutch Reformed Church at 23 King Street. It was completed in 1826, approximately the same year that a row of abutting, Federal style houses were erected. The Demarest family moved into 21 King Street, next door to the church.
Like its identical neighbors, the Demarests' house was two-and-a-half stories tall, with two prominent dormers that pierced the peaked roof. It was faced in warm Flemish bond brick.
.jpg)
The Demarest house originally was identical to its neighbor at 17 King Street, seen above.
Like almost all of their neighbors, the Demarests took in a boarder. Living with the family in 1840 was Thomas Whybrew, a book dealer at 108 Broadway. In 1845, they had two boarders, Sidney Curtis, who was in the hardware business; and John Z. Westervelt, a bookkeeper.
Rev. Cornelius T. Demarest died on December 26, 1862 at the age of 76. Three days later his funeral was held in "the Dutch Reformed Church, in King-st.," as announced by The New York Times.
Margretta Lydecker Demarest offered the house for sale on April 7, 1865. The advertisement said the "two story and attic house" was "replete with modern improvements," suggesting that gas lighting and possibly running water had been installed.
The house became home to the John Nichol family. Born in Scotland around 1822, Nichol had been a partner with George Frederick Merklee in the iron foundry Merklee & Nichol at 53 Hamersley Street (later Houston Street). When the firm dissolved in 1854, Nichol partnered with George W. Billerwell. The year he moved his family in 21 King Street, he listed himself as "iron founder and manufacturer of Mettam's patent rolling iron shutters."
In 1869, the Nichols rented the top portion of their home. Their advertisement in the New York Herald on May 3, read:
21 King Street, near Macdougal--For housekeeping, Second Floor and Part of Third; gas, bath and washtubs, $55 per month. Also small rear House, $15; for adults only.
The rent for the upper portion of the house would translate to about $1,270 per month in 2024. Nearly all the houses along the block had a small building in the rear yard, in this case a house. The rent would equal $346 a month.
The ad was answered by Harriet L. Belmont, the widow of Simeon Belmont; and Augustus M. Vanraden, a grocer whose store was at 80 Spring Street. It is unclear who lived in which space.
In 1871, the family of John Calvin Christie moved into 21 King Street. The extended Christie family was well known to the Nichols. William Christie had purchased 15 King Street in 1840, and David W. Christie, his son, operated a stable in John Nichol's former foundry on Houston Street.
Shortly after moving into 21 King Street, on June 7, 1871, John C Christie died at the age of 27. His funeral was held in the house on June 11, followed by a service at the True Dutch Reformed Church.
The house was next home to David Broome, another iron founder and likely an acquaintance of John Nichol. In 1875, it was purchased by James H. Noe and his wife, the former Katherine Mangels. Noe was a highly successful brush manufacturer with a store and factory at 275 Greenwich Street. It may have been the Noes who raised the attic to a full floor, adding in the process a handsome Italianate cornice. On either side of the brackets were scrolled volutes, and between were ornate pressed panels of flowers, fruits and swags.
As had been the case with John Calvin Christie, Noe's residency would be cut short. The summer that he purchased 21 King Street, Noe was expanding his factory by building an addition next door. On Sunday morning August 22, he went to Greenwich Street to check on his business, "feeling a little uneasy about the premises, as a building was in process of construction adjoining, the ladders belonging to which afforded easy access to the roof of No. 275 [Greenwich Street]," explained the New York Herald.
Noe found the first and second floors "undisturbed," but as he started up to the third floor, he saw John Richard Dolan, sneaking down from the roof via the "scuttle," or trap door. Dolan was known to police as "Dandy Johnny" and the "Beau Brummel of Five Points" for his expensive shoes and clothes. More importantly, he was a street brawler, burglar and gangster.
Noe attempted to overpower the intruder, but Dolan hit him on the head with a "jimmy," or iron bar, three times. Nearly unconscious, the bloodied Noe was tied up and robbed. Before fleeing, Dolan told him, "It's twenty years for me if I'm caught! I'll send somebody to untie you. If you make a noise I'll come back and finish you."
Noe's cries for help eventually were answered by a neighbor, a Mrs. Harris. She later said, "He was covered with blood from head to foot." James Noe was taken to the Chambers Street Hospital where he died four days later. With exaggerated Victorian prose, The New York Times wrote, "the dead wagon conveyed from the Chambers Street Hospital to No. 21 King street all that was mortal of Mr. Noe," adding, "its reception at his residence was marked by a scene of anguish which happily occurs but seldom in this City."
Eight months later, on April 22, 1876, the New York Herald reported, "John Richard Dolan was hanged yesterday morning in the yard of the Tombs Prison for the murder of James H. Noe."
The family of Matthew Black lived here by 1878. Black was in the produce business as were his sons Matthew J. and Robert, whose families all lived here.
In the 19th and early 20th centuries, boys celebrated the Fourth of July with the shooting of pistols. Not unexpectedly, it often ended tragically. In his 1912 Independence Day, Robert Haven Schauffler said,
It then seemed to be a day wholly devoted to boyish pleasure and mischief, sure to be followed by reports of hairbreadth escapes and injuries more or less serious, sometimes even fatal...It was not uncommon then, nor is it now, to read of some sudden death, some irretrievable blindness or other injury caused by the explosion of a toy cannon or the misadventure of some fireworks on "the Fourth," as the day has come to be called.
The Black family was at their summer home in Bergen, New Jersey on the holiday that year. Tragically, On July 7, 1878, The New York Times reported, "A boy named Robert Black, of No. 21 King street, died yesterday from the effects of a pistol shot wound accidentally received in Bergen, N. J. on the 4th...while he and another boy were carelessly handling a pistol."
The house was purchased by detective A. W. Thompson around 1890. He had big plans for the property. On October 25, that year, the Record & Guide reported that his architect, M. Snedeker, had filed plans for a "four-story brick flat" to replace the vintage house. Something derailed the plans, however, and the Thompson family, who were currently living on West Houston Street, moved in.
By 1897, A. W. Thompson had died and his widow Adolphine and son, Charles S., were living here. Charles had joined the fire department with Engine Company 19 on West 25th Street, in 1887. Now, in 1897, he was engaged to Jessie Graham.
In 1892, Charles was fighting a large fire when a wall collapsed. He suffered a serious head injury when he was struck by falling bricks. The New York Journal and Advertiser explained, "His skull was fractured and several operations have since been performed on him." For five years, Charles suffered excruciating headaches. On May 4, 1897, the New York Evening Telegram said, "He has been suffering more than usual from them lately."
At 11:00 on May 3, 1897, Charles left the house to go to work. Before going to the firehouse, he stopped at a drugstore because of his violent headache. At 7:00 that night, he was brought home "between two firemen," as reported by the New York Evening Telegram, who told his mother he had been "acting very strangely."
Thompson said, "If you fellows knew how sick I am you wouldn't talk that way."
Adolphine put him to bed. An hour later, Jessie Graham, her father and brother stopped by to see how he was doing. Charles came down to the parlor and while they were talking, his dog jumped onto his lap.
The little dog had been the mascot of his firehouse. Its leg was crushed by an engine and the fire captain was going to shoot it. Charles intervened, begged to let him have it, and nursed the crippled dog back to health. Now, as it began to lick Charles's hand, he "became wild in an instant," as worded by the New York Evening Telegram.
Charles shouted, "There's that dog again! Take him away!" and picked up his jackknife from the table. He opened it and attempted to stab the dog. The newspaper said,
Miss Graham interfered and Thompson turned on her. His reason had left him and he was trying to stab the young woman when his mother rushed in and threw herself between them. The insane fireman turned on her and tried to plunge the knife into her. She only saved herself by throwing her arms around his neck and talking to him until be became calm.
An ambulance was called and just before midnight he was taken away. The following day the New York Evening Telegram reported, "he lies in the insane pavilion at Bellevue." The New York Journal and Advertiser reported the obvious, "the wedding day has been indefinitely postponed," while the Telegram said, "It is feared that he is hopelessly insane from the wound in his head."
In 1900, title to 21 King Street was transferred from Charles's name to Adolphine's. In addition, she owned a house at 46 Barrow Street. The following year, on October 27, 1901, she remarried. Her new husband was David A. Whitaker, a marine engineer. The bride was 51 and the groom 48.
For two years, according to Adolphine, Whitaker was "a model husband." Then things changed. Whitaker began to "beat her cruelly," according to The New York Times. He additionally used her money for investments, the profits of which he kept. She later told a judge, " I silently bore [the abuse] because of the fact that I was alone in the world and he was the only one I had...so even with all the brutality I continued to live with [Whitaker], hoping against hope that he would reform."
Things came to a climax on April 1, 1910. That day Adolphine had ten teeth extracted. The New York Times reported, "She suffered great pain, she said, and the dentist gave her a narcotic powder to apply to her gums."
Whitaker came home that night with a pail of beer. He noticed the powder and was unusually agreeable for the rest of the evening. Adolphine later testified, "That night my husband was pleasant with me and I recall distinctly that before he retired he kissed me, which was an unusual state of affairs."
The next evening after supper Adolphine visited a friend who was sick with pneumonia. When she returned, Whitaker and his clothes were gone. He told friends his wife was attempting to poison him "with powder."
Adolphine sued for divorce in October "on the ground of cruelty and desertion," as reported by The New York Times. But her problems were far from over.
Nearly a quarter of a century later, on March 19, 1925, the Brooklyn Standard Union reported that Adolphine, now 81 years old, had won her suit against her nephew, James O. Westberg and his wife, Mary F., to regain title to the house in which she lived at 172 Van Siclen Street in Brooklyn, "and at 46 Barrow Street and 21 King Street, Manhattan." Adolphine's suit alleged that when David Whitaker left her and she became ill, James and Mary Westberg warned her that he "would return and take her property." She said they pressured her into signing the title to the three properties over to them. She won the suit and regained possession of 21 King Street and the other two properties.
In the meantime, the Westbergs had been leasing 21 King Street. Jerry A. Re lived here in the early 1920s. He was affluent enough to own a Chandler touring car and a summer home in Monroe, New York. In October 1922, he notified the Newburgh, New York police that his car had been stolen. A few days later it was pulled over by a Newburgh police officer. Driving it was Henry Re, Jerry's 21-year-old brother. In the car with him was Isabel Hill, a 14-year-old runaway from Yonkers.
Henry Re was arrested for larceny, for stealing the car, and for a violation of Section 483 of the penal law, "which has to do with corrupting the morals of a minor," reported The Independent Republican of Goshen, New York.
image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.
The house was altered in 1932 and in 1936. It was most likely during one of those renovations that the parlor floor was faced with stone. Although never officially converted to apartments, there are three units in the house today.
photographs by the author
No comments:
Post a Comment