George H. Griebel's 1891 201 East 16th Street

 

Born into a wealthy and influential Berlin family in 1846, George Henry Griebel immigrated to Washington D.C.  After working as an architect for the government, including designing the magnificent Great Hall of the Library of Congress, he relocated his practice to New York City in 1880.  He received a commission from Alfred Corning Clark to design a substantial office-and-store building at the northeast corner of Third Avenue and 16th Street in 1890.  In a landscape of refined 19th century rowhouses and the Gothic Revival structures of the St. George's Episcopal Church complex, Griebel's design would stand out.

Completed in 1891, the six-story structure towered over its neighbors.  Griebel configured the windows in groups of three.  The sturdy piers of the two-story base, composed of alternating brick and stone, were capped with intricately carved capitals.  They supported a sandstone level embellished with delightful cast iron ornaments and carved portrait keystones.  The mid-section featured three-story piers, their brick laid to suggest fluting.  The windows of the top floor were arranged in arcades, somewhat mirroring the arched corbel table below the cornice.

The building attracted a variety of tenants.  Among the first was the Illuminating Engineering Co., which designed elements for the developing electrical lighting industry.  

Among Illuminating Engineering Co.'s products were fluted glass shades.  The Central Station, May 1903 (copyright expired)

The structure's proximity to the St. George's Church complex resulted in the St. George's Men's Club taking space.  It was the venue of a chess tournament in the spring of 1897.  On April 6, The Evening Post reported, "A match, five games up draws not counting, is in progress at the St. George's Men's Club, No. 201 East Sixteenth Street."  The previous evening, the competition had been interrupted by an unexpected visit by an illustrious player.  "Last night C[harles] Devidi paid a visit in the club, and gave an impromptu simultaneous performance, conducting six games, all of which he won."

George Letchworth English was born in 1864 and graduated from Friends' Central School in Philadelphia in 1881.  He was described by Who's Who in New York City and State in 1905 as an "expert on monazite and the rare earth minerals."  He established Geo. L. English & Co., "dealers in choice scientific minerals."  In February 1903, the firm announced in The Mineral Collector, "Our office and salesrooms were removed during January to the modern building 201 East Sixteenth Street, northeast corner of Third Avenue, where we have leased the entire third floor."  The announcement noted that the space was "splendidly lighted by fifteen large windows on two sides."

The filaments inside lightbulbs at the turn of the last century worked only within a vacuum.  Two tenants of 201 East 16th Street in 1907 were Pulsometer Pumps and Fahn & McJunkin.  The competitors manufactured "pumps for exhausting incandescent lamp bulbs," as explained in Electrical Review on August 24 that year.  Fahn & McJunkin had just signed a contract with the Linolite Company to manufacture its products here.  With that deal, reported Electrical Review, "The company is now working on the equipment for four large lamp factories."

The New York offices of the Wheeling Mold & Foundry Co. were here in 1908.  Two years later, the English-based Thermal Syndicate, Ltd. established its New York office here.  The Mining World reported on June 25, 1910, "The company manufactures silica ware in large and small sizes, suitable for metallurgical and chemical plants."

The St. George's Men's Club was still in the building in 1916, when the St. George's Lunch Room was opened.  The New York Charities Directory described it as, "A lunch room for respectable working women," saying it served, "simple, inexpensive lunches."

The first, and possibly the only, garment firm in the building signed a lease in 1920.  On March 5, The Corset and Underwear Review reported that Bessie Damsey "is now settled in enlarged quarters at 201 East Sixteenth Street."  The article described Bessie Damsey as "one which makes an all-around line of the exclusively fine in undergarments."

Dry Goods Economist, December 4, 1920 (copyright expired)

Geo. L. English & Co. remained in the building well into the 1920s.  In 1922, the Sun Press, Inc. took a floor, and renewed its lease in 1931 for an annual rental of $2,100 (about $43,300 by 2025 terms).  Another tenant in the 1920s was the Capitol Paper Company.

Isidore Rosenthal worked as a truck driver for Capitol Paper Company in 1926.  On May 24, he was driving on Essex Street where a group of little boys were playing tag.  Suddenly, six-year-old William Lucher darted out in front of Rosenthal's truck and was struck.  Rosenthal picked up the boy and drove to Gouverneur Hospital but when he arrived, Lucher was dead.  Doctors said his skull had been fractured.  Although Rosenthal was arrested "on a technical charge of homicide," according to The New York Times, "Persons who witnessed the accident declared him blameless."

As early as 1940, an Atlantic & Pacific grocery store occupied the commercial space.  Renamed A & P after mid-century, it still occupied the ground floor into the 1960s.

The Atlantic & Pacific food market occupied the ground floor in 1941.  The Third Avenue elevated ran in front of the building.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

A peculiar detail was affixed to the 16th Street facade between the early 1940s and 1975.  Around 1910, Grosvenor Atterbury designed whimsical lanterns for the residential complex at Forest Hills Gardens.  Unique to that project, one of them mysteriously appeared here.  In 1997, The New York Times journalist Christopher Gray attempted to solve the enigma with no success.

Poorly treated today, the standard of this example depicts trees sprouting from flower boxes.

In the meantime, the tenant list--once filled with mineralogic labs and technical electrical workrooms--now included firms like Merlite Industries, Inc. which advertised in The Popular Science Monthly in 1953, "You too can make good money showing 'Science's New Midget Miracle' to owners of homes, cars, boats, farms, etc."  The device was a hand-held fire extinguisher.

The commercial space has been split into two businesses, and George H. Griebel's storefront was long ago vandalized beyond recognition.  Otherwise, other than needing a cleaning, the handsome structure survives wonderfully intact after 134 years.

photographs by the author

The Little Missionary's Day Nursery - 93 St. Mark's Place

 

The change of brick color testifies to the addition of the fourth floor around 1885.

Like their neighbors, John Christopher Thatcher and his wife, the former Mary Fitch, were well-to-do and their three-and-a-half story, 27-foot wide house at 93 St. Mark's Place reflected that.  Faced in red brick, its entrance would have originally included a substantial Greek Revival-style stone frame and entablature.  The floor-to-ceiling parlor windows opened onto an exquisite cast iron balcony adorned with palmettes, an important Greek Revival motif.

Born on February 29, 1812 in New London, Connecticut, Thatcher was a commission merchant.  He and his family were listed at 93 St. Mark's Place as early as 1843, when the children, Thomas Fitch and Mary Olivia, were five and two years old respectively.

Mary Fitch Thatcher was the daughter of Dr. Thomas and Olivia Fletcher Fitch of Philadelphia.  After Dr. Fitch's death on August 9, 1849, Olivia moved into the Thatcher residence.  She died there only five months later, on January 4, 1850 at the age of 75.  Her funeral was held in the parlor two days later.

John Thatcher owned at least one other property in the neighborhood.  On April 29, 1852, he advertised the "superb" mansion at 99 St. Mark's Place for lease or sale.  He described the 37-and-a-half-foot wide, "three story and attic, basement, cellar" house as having, "bath, fine figured marble mantel pieces, &c; four rooms on each floor."

Thatcher's offering may have been prompted by the waves of immigrants that were engulfing the neighborhood by now.  And, indeed, the following year the Thatchers had moved out of 93 St. Mark's Place, leasing it to a Mrs. Clauson who operated it as a boarding house.  She advertised in the New York Herald on June 4, 1853:

Furnished Rooms with Board, at No. 93 St. Marks place.  The house contains all the modern improvements, gas, baths, &c.  Stages pass the door.  References exchanged.  Dinner at 3 and 6 o'clock.

The boarders received an early morning fright at 2:00 on August 30, 1853.  They were wakened from their sleep when, according to the New-York Tribune, "a fire broke out on the first floor of the dwelling house, No. 93 St. Marks place, occupied by Mrs. Clauson."  Happily, firefighters quickly extinguished the blaze.  The damages were estimated at $500, or about $20,900 in 2025 terms.

On April 25, 1856, the house "with dining-room extension and all the improvements" was offered for rent again.  It became home to Horace A. Schreiner and his wife, the former Julia Elizabeth Nelson.  The couple had at least five children, Jacob, Osmond H., Adelia, Anna and Susan. When the family moved in, Jacob was working as a bookbinder.  His brother would be listed as a cashier in 1859.

In the autumn of 1858, the Schreiners were victims of a burglary.  On September 27, The New York Times reported that Samuel Morris, "a Hebrew, about 80 years of age," had been arrested and "charged with stealing wearing apparel, &c., from the house of Mrs. Schrimer [sic], No. 93 St. Mark's-place."  But the elderly man was in even more trouble.  The article said, "He is also charged with bigamy" and explained:

It appears that in July, 1856, he was married in Court to Amelia Lowenthal, but abandoned her soon after, and since that time, he has been in the habit of taking board at different boarding-houses and marrying one girl at each place, whom he soon after abandoned.  The last victim was Mary Ryan.

The parlor was the scene of Adelia Schreiner's marriage to Pierre Trainique Tunison on February 11, 1858.  Born in New Orleans in 1831, Tunison was the bookkeeper for Jahne, Smith & Co., jewelers.  Eventually, he would become what The Jewelers' Circular Weekly would call, "one of the best known men in the jewelry trade in the east."

The room that had been the couple's joyful marriage would be the scene of their sublime grief.  On March 1, 1860, the New York Herald reported that the funeral of Pierre T. Tunison, "only child of Pierre T. and Adelia Tunison," would be held that day at 1:00.

The extended Schreiner family left 93 St. Mark's Place the following year.  For a few years it was again a boarding house, operated by Helen Goldsmith, the widow of David Goldsmith.  Then around 1864, newlyweds Henry and Helen Dodge Cox Campman purchased the house.

Henry was born in Germany in 1825, and Helen in New York City in 1831.  They were married on October 27, 1863.  Helen was pregnant when they moved into the St. Mark's Place house, and their first child, Marie Louise Campman, was born on August 27, 1864.  They would have four more children: Clara, born in 1866; Jane Eliza Dodge, born in 1869; and Henry Dodge and Mary Dodge, born in 1871 and 1872 respectively.  Sadly, Jane Eliza died at the age of one year and seven months on October 19, 1870.  Her funeral was held in the parlor on October 21.

Henry worked as a clerk--a term that ranged from an office or store worker to a highly responsible executive.  Helen invested in real estate and by the late 1870s was the owner of several tenement buildings.  The family moved to Fourth Avenue in 1874 and leased 93 St. Mark's Place to the Leopold Adler family.  Adler was a furrier.  The family took in several boarders and in 1876 they included August Otterbourg, a physician; Francis C. Urchs and Charles F. Urchs, who listed their professions as musician and vocalist, respectively; Frederick Puls, a tailor; Karl F. Witte who worked as a clerk; and leather merchant Patrick C. Costello.

On December 17, 1881, the Record & Guide reported that Helen Campman had hired architect Julius Boekell to replace 93 St. Mark's Place with a "five-story brick tenement."  She did not go forward with the plans, however, and on April 2, 1884, she sold the house at auction.  The winning bid was placed by her tenant, Leopold Adler.  

Louis Adler, presumably Leopold's son, was, like his former landlady, a real estate operator.  In 1888 and 1891, for instance, he erected "flat," or apartment, buildings.  It was most likely his construction savvy that resulted in the remodeling of 93 St. Mark's Place.  The outdated Greek Revival elements were replaced with molded cornices.  A stone bandcourse now marked the former attic level, which was raised to a full floor.  The paired windows of the new top floor shared an impressive bracketed cornice adorned with an anthemion.  A complex terminal cornice of small and large brackets crowned the design. 

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Interestingly, the Adlers' architect preserved the Greek Revival parlor balcony.  Other original ironwork, however, was scrapped.  The stoop was given beefy cast iron newels and railings, and the areaway received trendy Aesthetic-style fencing with stylized sunflowers.

The Adler family resided at 93 St. Mark's Place through at least 1891.  In the early 1890s, it was operated as a boarding house by Caroline Roehm, a widow.  Starting in 1896, the Adlers leased part of the house to the Hungarian Literary Society for its clubrooms.  On Christmas Eve that year, The New York Times reported, "At 93 St. Mark's Place, the First Hungarian Literary Society made 194 children's hearts glad last evening with gifts of clothing, underwear, shoes and caps."

On August 22, 1901, Leopold Adler sold 93 St. Mark's Place at auction.  It was purchased by the Little Missionary's Day Nursery.  

Sara Curry, who was born in Utica, New York in 1865, grew up as an orphan and factory worker there.  Her childhood experience prompted her to turn to social work in 1894.  She founded the Little Missionary's Day Nursery two years later.  The New York Times later explained, 

One day, on seeing a child crushed by a truck, she resolved to devote her life mainly to children.  With only enough money to pay a month's rent and immediate necessities, she rented a room at 204 Avenue C, which became her first nursery, and in it she cared for a dozen babies.

Sara Curry's project had come a long way in five years.  The nursery was brought to the attention of wealthy lawyer Louis B. Rolston by his 11-year-old daughter, Jean, in 1898.  She had held a bazaar and raised $200 for the cause.  Moved, Louis B. Rolston got involved not only financially, but by the time the St. Mark's Place house was purchased, he was its president.  When the nursery moved in, it was taking care of 200 children.

Children crowded onto the vintage cast iron balcony for this photo in 1908.  Harper's Weekly, January 25, 1908 (copyright expired)

The Little Missionary's Day Nursery relied solely on private donations.  To that end, fund raising was constant.  On December 13, 1903, for instance, The New York Times reported that the nursery "will be tendered a benefit concert at the Hotel Majestic, Central Park West, next Tuesday evening."  The article ended saying, "It is hoped that there will be a large attendance to aid this worthy charity."

Custom-fitted canvas shades kept out the hot summer sunshine.  New York Herald, August 4, 1918 (copyright expired)

Living in the nursery along with Sara Curry were employees (like nurses), as well as Robert Curry and his wife, Anna.  (Robert was presumably a relative, although not a brother.)  Robert J. Curry died on July 10, 1920 and his funeral was held in the house on July 12.

A week later, another tragedy occurred here.  On June 18, 1920, The New York Times reported, "While playing around a piano in St. Mary's Day Nursery [sic], 93 St. Marks Place, Peter Mandola, 8 years old...was killed yesterday when the piano toppled over upon him."  Sara Curry had tried to single-handedly lift the piano off the boy and injured her back in the process.

Anna Curry died in the house on September 26, 1929.  Her funeral was held in the parlor two days later.  There would be one more funeral in the nursery building.  On March 4, 1940, Sara Curry was taken to New York Hospital.  Called "'The Little Missionary' to the needy of the lower East Side for more than forty years," by The New York Times, the 77-year-old died there a week later.  On March 13, the newspaper announced, "A service for Miss Curry will be held at 8 P.M. tomorrow at the nursery and another at 10 A.M. Friday at Bellport, L.I."

Sara Curry, Harper's Weekly, January 25, 1908 (copyright expired)

Sara Curry's death did not end the Little Missionary's Day Nursery.  Four decades later, when the Board of Estimate and the City Council were working out the city's budget, a group of children from the nursery showed up with a guardian.  They were there to lobby for funds for public parks and told the officials, as reported by The New York Times on May 18, 1985:  "We like to go to our park where we can walk, run and play.  We like to see in our park healthy big trees and flowers with bees.  We like to stay in our park where it is safe and clean to have wonderful dreams."

On October 5, 2013, the block of St. Mark's Place between Avenue A and First Avenue was named Sara Curry Way.  Simultaneously, a plaque was affixed to the facade of 93 St. Mark's Place.  At the time, the Little Missionary's Day Nursery (which still operates from the building) provided full-time daycare to 50 children ranging from 2 to 4 years old.  By then, it was partially funded by non-profit organizations and grants from foundations.

photographs by the author

The Elizabeth Benedict House - 119 East 26th Street

 

Unlike its identical neighbor, the brownstone facade of 119 East 26th Street has been painted.

Two families--the Jewells and Keanes--shared the newly built brownstone-clad house at 93 East 26th Street in 1851.  (It would be renumbered 119 in 1867.)  It was one of a row of identical, high-stooped Italianate residences and rose three stories tall above the basement level.  The iron railings of the stoop matched those of the parlor balcony.  A simple, molded frame embraced the double-doored entrance, and the elliptically arched openings sat upon bracketed sills.  Each of the homes had its own pressed metal cornice with robust scrolled brackets.

Presley B. Jewell was a painter and Patrick A. Keane was a shipjoiner (a craftsman who installed wooden components like decking and cabinetry in ships).  Patrick's wife, Mary Ann Keane, died here on December 18, 1852 and her funeral was held in the parlor on the 20th.

Despite their proletariat professions, the Jewells and Keane lived in upscale surroundings.  When the furnishings were sold at auction on April 27, 1853, they included parlor furniture "made to order," a "splendid 6-1/2 octave piano made by Nunn & Clark," china tea and coffee sets, and "rich crimson curtains."

The house was next leased by French-born Valiente Parfirio.  An author and historian, he would publish Reformes dans les Iles de Cuba et de Porto-Rico (Reforms in the Islands of Cuba and Puerto Rico) in Paris in 1869.  The Parfirio family rented spare rooms.  An advertisement in the New York Herald in 1854 offered, 

A gentleman and wife, or a few single gentlemen, can find pleasant rooms, with the comfort of a home, at 93 East Twenty-sixth street.  French and English spoken in the family.

The house was sold at auction on February 11, 1859.  The announcement described, the "very desirable and elegant house" as having, "plate glass in windows, stained glass entering third room, mahogany doors, baths, wash tubs and other modern improvements."

Thomas H. and Mary C. Geraty purchased the property, and their son, Thomas Jr., was born shortly afterward.  The infant contracted croup early in 1860, and died on February 16.  His miniature coffin sat in the parlor until his funeral on February 18.

The house saw at least two occupants over the next seven years.  Then, around 1867, Elizabeth Benedict purchased it.  Many widows operated their homes as boarding houses, but Elizabeth (the widow of Benjamin Benedict) seems to have been financially secure.  She spent her summers away from the city.  On May 5, 1870, Elizabeth advertised, "The neatly furnished house No. 119 East Twenty-sixth street to let until October."  She charged $225 per month, about $5,420 in 2025 terms.

Elizabeth Benedict remained here for more than two decades, selling it in February 1890 to John J. Emery for $13,500 (about $466,000 today).  Emery resold the house to Gustav and Gertrude Romer four years later.

The Romers leased it to a Mrs. Hall, who operated it as a boarding house.  Also living here were her daughter and son-in-law, Genevieve and Frank Allen.  Allen was described by The Morning Telegraph as, "an expert accountant and bookkeeper."  He earned $3,500 a year, a comfortable $133,000 today.  He married Genevieve Hall ( whom the newspaper said was "a small and pretty blonde") in 1884 and, according to The Morning Telegraph, "they took up the struggle of life together and lived happily."  

In fact, not everything had been happy within the marriage.  According to Allen, his wife "was a very jealous woman, and, much to his sorrow, she began to suspect that he paid attention to other women," said The Morning Telegraph.  She demanded a divorce, but Allen would not consent and spent "thousands of dollars in fighting her actions."  Allen insisted he was "guiltless of any misconduct" and "always conducted himself with extreme propriety and took great pains not to arouse the jealousy of his suspecting wife."

Around 1897, Maskel Phelps took a room in the house.  Ironically, before long it was Frank Allen who suspected hanky-panky.  The following year, he arranged for a friend, Lewis Lawrence, to obtain a room in the house "as a spy."  Lawrence later admitted he, "took up his lodgings there for the express purpose of trapping Mrs. Allen for the benefit of the husband."

With the resulting evidence, Frank Allen moved out and on August 30, The Morning Telegraph reported, "Allen charges his wife...with misconduct with Maskel Phelps."  He told a reporter, "that instead of his being a wrongdoer it is his wife who has been misconducting herself, and that her conduct has become unendurable to him."

A less controversial resident was Paul Jursch, who sat on the School Board and was appointed a commissioner of deeds in 1901.  He would remain at least through 1903.  

Another boarder at the time was Dr. Martin Downey.  He was summoned to appear before the president of the Board of Health on June 17, 1903 to explain his failure "to report cases of scarlet fever" as required by the Sanitary Code.

Gustav and Gertrude Romer sold the house to Arthur P. Holland in November 1908.  He leased it to banker Herbert Seymour of Brown Brothers & Co.  A bachelor, he shared the house with his unmarried sister, Gertrude Seymour.  Seymour's financial and social status was reflected in his memberships in the New York Yacht and the Calumet Clubs.  Herbert Seymour suffered a heart attack on June 6, 1912 and died in the house ten days later.

In 1941, the Italianate stoop railings and parlor balcony survived.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

At some point after mid-century, the iron balcony was removed and the stoop railings updated.  In the early 1970s, the A.C.T. Family Center, a therapy clinic for parents and teenaged children, occupied space in the house.  An advertisement in Newsday in 1971 explained in part:

Parents, teen-agers, and a work-team of two counselors sit down together in a living room atmosphere in a comfortable Manhattan town house and talk it out--not as a "case" being "treated," but as fellow human beings seeking honest communication and workable solutions.

A renovation completed in 1988 resulted in two duplex residences in the house.

photographs by the author

The 1886 353 and 355 West 123rd Street

 

In May 1885, architect M. Louis Ungrich began sketching out "ten three-story and basement brick and stone private dwellings" on West 123rd Street between Morningside and Manhattan Avenues for developers Frank Tilford and F. K. Keller.  Ungrich designed the row as alternating, five mirror-image pairs--A-B, C-D, A-B, C-D, and A-B.  

Among the A and B models were 353 and 355 West 123rd Street.  The 16-foot wide homes were clad in red brick and trimmed in brownstone above the stone-faced basement level.  The iron areaway fencing and stoop railings included light-hearted squiggly spindles, typical of the Queen Anne style.  A prominent bandcourse and an intermediate cornice defined the stories.  The two houses shared an elaborate terra cotta panel of swirling vines around a shell at the third floor, and a terra cotta rondel of a flower backed by a sunburst decorated each gable.

On November 24, 1886, Tilford & Keller sold 353 West 123rd Street to real estate operator John W. Hutchinson for $15,000--about $500,000 in 2025.  Days after the family moved in, a near disaster occurred.

On December 7, The New York Times reported, "Fire broke out at 4:30 o'clock yesterday morning in the basement of No. 353 West One Hundred and Twenty-third street...occupied by J. W. Hutchinson and routed the family out."  Hutchinson estimated the damage at about $20,000 in today's money.

The Hutchinsons' residency was short lived.  In May 1889, they sold the house to banker Cornelius Brinkman Outcalt and his wife, the former Irene Augusta Curtis, for $14,250.  The couple had three children, Cornelius Jr., Louis Clark, and John C.--aged 18, 15 and 7 years old, respectively, at the time.  

(The couple had earlier suffered intense grief.  Their first child, Marie Cecilia, died at the age of five in May 1873.  Then, in unspeakable tragedy, Paul Curtis and Gussie Whitney died on October 13 and October 25, 1884.  They were seven and four years old.)

Cornelius B. Outcalt was born on April 21, 1851.  On May 25, 1861, at the outbreak of the Civil War, he enlisted in the 7th Regiment, New York State Militia, listing his age at 21.  How an officer could mistake a ten-year-old for an adult is puzzling, but Outcalt was enlisted as a private and served for 30 days.  

When he and the family moved into the West 123rd Street house, he was the cashier of the National Exchange Bank, but he shortly afterward retired.  He became the center of a bizarre mystery in 1895.

On February 21, Outcalt attended a dinner hosted by the newspaper The Fourth Estate.  While there, he met William Sammons, the brother of the newspaper's editor, who was described by the New York Herald as "something of a politician."  Outcalt did not return home that evening.  The Sun reported, "They [i.e., Outcalt and Sammons] drank a great deal of wine, and the next day both were missing."

Four days later, a message was telephoned to a drugstore near the Outcalt house informing the family that Cornelius was "at the Orawaupum Hotel, in White Plains, with a stranger," as reported by the New York Herald.  The Sun said that Irene and Cornelius, Jr. traveled there with Detective Brock, a friend of the family.

They found Outcalt, disoriented, in one room of the hotel.  The Sun said he "had the appearance of being sick and dazed."  Sammons was asleep in the adjoining room.  When Brock arrested him, Sammons protested that he would not be arrested.  "But you are arrested," he was told.

The New York Herald reported, "White Plains was in a great excitement over the arrest.  It was reported that Simmins [sic] had been drugging his companion and that a deep mystery was about to be unveiled."  Back home, on February 26, a reporter from The Sun visited the Outcalt house.  The journalist wrote, "He was about to explain the matter when his wife interfered, and prevented him from saying."  Sammons was later acquitted and the details of the supposed kidnapping were never revealed.

The following year, on February 4, 1896, Irene Augusta Outcalt died in the house.  In reporting her death, one newspaper commented, "In her early days, Mrs. Outcalt was one of the belles of metropolitan society."  In March 1898, Cornelius, Jr. sold the house to Thomas Daniels.

In the meantime, John Sullivan and his wife, the former Elizabeth A. Mars, lived next door.  John died at 355 West 123rd Street on May 19, 1896 at the age of 79.  The New York Herald said his death came "after a lingering illness, which he bore with Christian fortitude."  Following his funeral in the parlor, a solemn requiem mass was held for him at the Church of St. Joseph at the corner of Columbus Avenue and 125th Street.

Elizabeth A. Sullivan died three years later, on April 21, 1899.  The house was sold to Nathan Pollock, a clothing manufacturer.  He declared bankruptcy on January 28, 1901, after which the house was operated as a boarding house.  Among the residents in 1904 was a piano teacher, who advertised, "Teacher of piano desires pupils; Dr. Mason's system of touch and technique; terms moderate.  Studio 355 West 123d st."

Edward S. Root lived in the house as early as 1908.  Born in 1857, he was Fire Chief of the 24th Battalion and the head of E. Root & Co., "electrical subway engineers and contractors."

By then, 353 West 123rd Street was a rooming house.  During the 1907-08 academic year, three students attending the Jewish Theological Seminary of America roomed here, as well as did Rabbi Joseph Hevesh, a graduate of the seminary.

An interesting roomer in 353 West 123rd Street was Rev. Francis Le Baron.  Born in Plymouth, Massachusetts in 1824, he came from "a family which traces its ancestry to the first Francis Le Baron, who came to New England among the earliest settlers," according to The Sun.  After serving as a Unitarian clergyman, "he left the church when he was 30 years old to engage in literature," said the newspaper.  Among his works were A Discourse on the Death of Abraham Lincoln, Atheism Among the People, and The Poet and His Song.  Among his celebrated friends were Oliver Wendell Holmes, James Russell Lowell, Ralph Waldo Emerson, sculptor Daniel C. French, and Edward Everett Hale.

On the morning of February 16, 1911, well after the time that Le Baron normally got up, someone checked to see if the 87-year-old was alright.  He had died during the night.  The Sun reported, "Mr. Le Baron lost his fortune some years ago.  His friends in New York are arranging for the removal of his body to Boston, where it will be cremated."

Later that year, an advertisement in the New York Evening Telegram advertised 353 West 123rd Street for rent.  "Furnished 11 room house, exceptionally clean; good neighborhood, $75 rent; account sickness."  The monthly rent would translate to about $2,480 today.

The roomers in both houses were still professional.  Among those living at 355 in 1917 was Dr. Otto Lorenzi.  A graduate of Sibley College of Cornell University, he was an engineer with the Combustion Engineering Corporation.  And living next door was Fernando Staud Ximenes, who was on the interpreting staff of American Institute of International Law.

In 1941, the paneled outer and inner entrance doors were intact in both houses.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Both buildings continued to be rooming houses through mid-century.  A renovation to 355 in 1966 resulted in one apartment in the parlor level, with furnished rooms throughout the rest of the building.  It was most likely during that remodeling that the brick was painted (ironically enough, brick red) and the brownstone details at the parlor level painted white.

No. 353 was converted into a two-family residence in 1983, with duplex apartments on the basement and parlor levels, and second and third floors.  

photographs by the author

The 1908 John J. and Helen Pulleyn House - 302 West 107th Street

 

In 1907 the architectural firm of Neville & Bagge designed four, 19-foot wide rowhouses at 302 through 308 West 107th Street for developer William J. Casey.  The architects arranged the row in a balanced A-B-B-A configuration.  Completed the following year, their neo-Georgian design exuded dignity and affluence.  

The end (or A model) residences, which included No. 302, sat upon limestone bases, their arched entrances nestled within fluted Scamozzi columned porticoes.  The upper floors were clad in red brick.  The second through fourth floors were bowed, the windows of each treated differently.  The fifth floor sat back and a paneled brick parapet sat atop the stone cornice.

Casey initially leased No. 302 to well-to-do tenants like the Elsasser family, who were here in 1910.  Then, in September 1916, he sold the property to John Joseph Pulleyn and his wife, the former Helen Blake.

Born in 1860, Pulleyn was the controller and a trustee of the Emigrant Industrial Savings Bank.  In 1914, he was made a member of the Committee for the Revision of the Bank Laws.  He and Helen had four children, John W., Robert, Claire and Virginia.  Moving into the house with the family was John's widowed father, Joseph J. Pulleyn.  He was was born in Yorkshire, England in 1829 and came to America in 1869.  

John Joseph Pulleyn, (original source unknown)

John and Helen announced Virginia's engagement to Walton Pearl Kingsley on December 1, 1916.  The family's drawing room was the scene of the wedding on May 23, 1917.

Joseph J. Pulleyn died at the age of 90 on January 7, 1919.  Interestingly, his funeral was not held in the house, but at the Church of the Ascension on West 107th Street.

John Jr. was the next of the Pulleyn siblings to wed.  His engagement to Alice Moffitt was announced on February 27, 1920.  By then, his father was president of the Emigrant Industrial Savings Bank and would become a commissioner of the Port of New York Authority in 1928.

Six years before that would happen, in May 1922, the Pulleyns sold 302 West 107th Street to Samuel and Gene Horwitz for $40,000 (about $748,000 in 2025).

Samuel A. Horwitz was a co-founder with Leo Lindeman with Lindy's Restaurant on Broadway.   He and Gene had two sons, Richard and Howard.  The couple hired architect Gail T. Brown to renovate the house into apartments.

Four weeks after work began, on October 13, 1922, the 12-man work crew's lunch break morphed into an impromptu dance fest.  Paul T. Nolan was not merely a construction worker.  The 27-year-old was also a budding artist, a pianist and a baker.  He told The Evening World that on that afternoon after they finished their lunch, one of the workers pulled out a mouth organ.  "Then one little old man (we call him 'Pop') jumped up and danced a jig.  In about ten minutes we discovered we had among us a really good quartet, two buck and wing dancers, one acrobat and a comedian.  Everybody let loose!"

Nolan said that the only thing missing was a keg of beer.  The improvised festivities were eventually ended by the supervisor.  "Hey!  What the wheresthis does this mean?  Do you guys know it is fifteen minutes past one?"  (Sadly extinct, the word "wheresthis" was used to replace more colorful phrases.)

With jigs and mouth organ music behind them, the workers completed construction by the fall.  An advertisement in the New York Herald on November 5, 1922, offered:

Apartment for rent, two rooms, kitchenette and bath, high class building, newly decorated, moderate rentals.

Samuel and Gene Horwitz moved their family into one of the apartments.  A third son, Robert H., would be born on May 30, 1926.

In the meantime, one of the initial tenants got into trouble on December 12, 1922.  On the surface, Renee Beauchamp had an impressive background.  A trained nurse, she spoke four languages, was "socially well connected," according to the New York Herald, and had served overseas in the war.  

But the 34-year-old was arrested that night for throwing a stuffed pepper at her waiter in a New Chambers Street restaurant, missing him and smashing a plate glass window.  Renee explained in night court that she had just gotten off a 48-hour stint, "without an opportunity to eat and that her nerves were unstrung."  After waiting for half an hour to receive her order, she became "incensed."  The New York Herald reported, "The pepper throwing she admitted, but said the window was broken accidentally."  But a search of her record revealed that she "had been convicted eighteen times for disorderly conduct and intoxication since August 1916."  She was sentenced to 30 days in the workhouse."

Another early tenant was Mrs. Grace Moore Shaw, the sister of well-known competitive swimmer Lottie Moore Schoemmell.  In 1926, Lottie set her sights on the Wrigley Marathon swim in the Santa Catalina Channel to be held on January 15, 1927.  The problem was financing.  Lottie convinced her sister to back her, and drew up a contract which said that if she won either the first or second prize--$25,000 or $15,000--she would repay Grace the expenses plus $1,500.  If she did not win anything, the expenses were to be paid back by January 1, 1928.

The Oakland Tribune, January 10, 1927 (copyright expired)

As it turned out, Lottie did not place in the marathon.  Six months after the loan's due date, on June 11, 1928, Grace Shaw sued her sister.  The New York Times reported, "Mrs. Shaw said it cost more than $2,500 to take her sister to Los Angeles and enter her in the contest."  Then she had to foot the bill for supplemental items like "'shark proof' grease at $2 a pound, cut flowers which Mrs. Schoemmell insisted be in her training quarters and training room at all times, telegrams which totaled as high as $20 a day, and especially prepared foods."

The animus that had festered between the sisters was evident in barbs Grace peppered into her interview with The Times.  She mentioned that Lottie "is 34 and not 28 as her publicity men insist," that her "food bill was enormous," and she said, "I spent considerable money when we were at Hermosa Beach for private photographers."

This was necessary as we were so far from Los Angeles that newspaper camera men came out rarely and I found it next to impossible to get my publicity-crazed sister into the water to train unless it was to the accompaniment of a camera shutter click.

Lottie's attorney, John Santora, told the press on June 12 that Grace's accusations were "very much exaggerated" and "the suit is the result of a family quarrel."

In the meantime, Samuel A. Horowitz became entangled with racketeer and crime boss Arnold Rothstein.  On April 2, 1928, Horowitz wrote a letter to the gangster in which he agreed to deliver 100 shares of Lindy stock "in two days."  Already, Rothstein, known on the street as "The Brain," had taken title to 302 West 107th Street.

Arnold Rothstein was shot in a gangland hit on November 4, 1928.  He died two days later.  Apparently for Samuel Horowitz, Rothstein's death presented an opportunity for him to regain control of Lindy's.  But an accounting of Rothstein's estate in December revealed that Horowitz had never turned over the Lindy stock.   Horowitz was summoned to court on December 17 to account for it.

On June 14, 1930, The New York Times reported that "the slain gambler's real estate holdings would be liquidated, including 302 West 107th Street.  Described as a "five-story remodeled apartment house," it was sold on June 30 for $49,600 (more than $930,000 today).

The fourth floor cornice was intact in 1941.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Still living here at the time was the former pepper-slinging Renee Beauchamp.  On the night of May 8, 1933, neighbors around Chelsea Park reported a "disturbance" in the park to police.  The New York Sun reported, "A man and a woman were found lying semiconscious on the sidewalk early today in front of 503 West Twenty-seventh street, across the street from Chelsea Park."  They were Renee Beauchamp and Timothy McNamara.  The article said, "Both were suffering from severe lacerations and possibly fractures of the skull."  It is unclear if their assailants were ever captured.

The once-proud Pulleyn residence continued to house small apartments until a renovation in 1989 returned it to a single family house, according to Department of Records filings.

photographs by the author

The Lost Peter Amerman Grocery - 17 Carmine Street

 

image from the collection of the New York Public Library

The death rate of the yellow fever epidemic in New York City rose to 140 per day in 1822.  On August 24, J. Hardie wrote in his diary, "From daybreak till night one line of carts, containing boxes, merchandise, and effects, were seen moving towards 'Greenwich Village' and the upper parts of the city."  The population explosion of the formerly sleepy hamlet resulted in a flurry of construction of houses and stores.

Among the new buildings was 17 Carmine Street at the corner of Bleecker Street, completed around 1829.  (Both names were relatively new--Herring Street had been renamed Bleecker in 1828, and Carman Street had been corrupted to Carmine.)  A substantial two-and-a-half story structure, its Federal-style design included two dormers in the peaked roof, and an arched opening flanked by two quarter-round windows in the attic.

Peter Amerman, Jr. opened his grocery store in the new building.  It was followed in 1836 by William Nixon's dry goods store and by A. B. Hall & Co. around 1844.  The proprietor and his family did not live upstairs as might have been expected.  An advertisement in The Sun in October 1845 offered, "To Let--The dwelling part of house No. 17 Carmine street, corner of Bleecker--a desirable situation.  Apply in the store."   

Later that year, A. B. Hall was faced with an uncomfortable decision.  An announcement in the New-York Tribune on December 16 explained that a "committee" of dry goods clerks (a precursor to labor unions) had pressed "to get the consent of the Merchants generally throughout the City," to close their stores at 8 p.m. during the winter months (except Saturday evenings, Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve).  The move was generally agreed to and dozens of merchants signed the group's pact.  A. B. Hall & Co., however, did not sign the paper but gave "their word to the Committee, that if the Retail Merchants generally close they will do the same."

William R. McKimm took over the shop in 1850 for his men's clothing and tailoring shop.  (Neither he nor his clerk, William R. Greene, lived upstairs.  McKimm lived at 228 Bleecker and Greene at 43 Carmine.)  William McKimm devised a clever method of stirring interest in his new shop.  He told journalists of "mysterious knockings" and other supernatural incidents in the store.

On May 16, 1850, the New-York Tribune said that the "neighborhood of Bleecker and Carmine Streets was throw[n] into the utmost consternation last Saturday night."  The article said, 

In the clothing store of Wm. R. McKimm, 17 Carmine-st. at 8 o'clock, a number of persons being present, a large molasses cask crossed Bleecker st. from the store of C. S. Benson and rolled into the tailer's store about 45 feet, when it righted itself on one end.  At the same moment a tailor's goose [i.e., a cast iron pressing iron] flew like lightning through the store, carrying away the hat of Mr. Draper of 20 Madison-lane, and landing in the dry goods store of Mr. H. Hall on the opposite corner.

The article continued saying that a Mr. Peck, "a large fleshy man (weight 260 lbs)," stepped into the doorway to see what was happening and "was assailed in the rear by invisible feet and kicked...crying 'Och Hone! Tailor McKimm!'"  The lengthy article went on to describe fantastical details like "a strong smell of sulphur" and a Dr. Forrester who "saw the spirits frolicking while in a trance."  The new store owner's motive in publicizing the events was, perhaps, disclosed in the last line.  "The curious in these matters will be more fully informed by calling on William R. McKimm, 17 Carmine-st."

McKimm expanded his floor space by adding a two-story addition to the rear of the house.  In April 1852, he advertised  his "styles of clothing for the Spring" in the Sunday Dispatch, saying that his garments were "equal if they do not surpass others in the same branch of trade."  He guaranteed, "one trial will convince the most incredulous."  The Gentleman's Department was located in the main store, while the Boys and Children's Department were in the annex.

Michael McKimm, presumably William's son or possibly a brother, joined the firm in 1853 and remained through 1856.  

Meyer Hoffman opened his dry goods store here in 1861.  Living upstairs was the family of Moses S. Meeker, a carpenter.  The following year, the building was threatened.  On October 14, 1862, the New-York Tribune reported, "Last evening at 7:55 o'clock a fire occurred in the dry goods store of Mr. Hoffman, No. 17 Commerce street."  Hoffman's store suffered damages equal to $45,000 in 2025.  The article said it was "fully insured."

More than a century before ATMs, it was common for merchants to cash checks, especially for known patrons.  On July 8, 1865, Benjamin Greenfield entered the store and asked Hoffman to cash a check for $35 (nearly $700 today).  The New York Times reported, "When the check was presented [to the bank], it was ascertained that Greenfield had no account there."  Hoffman had Greenfield arrested, but whether he ever recovered his money is unclear.

Although dry goods stores mostly dealt in fabrics and sewing notions, Hoffman offered an interesting item in 1865.  In October that year, he advertised, "Wanted--Women to manufacture bed comfortables.  Come ready to work.  Apply to M. Hoffman, 17 Carmine street, corner of Bleecker."

On May 8, 1866, Hoffman advertised the season's "grand opening of novelties in dry goods" at "M. Hoffman's Dry Goods Emporium."  Among the fabrics he touted were "all-wool cassimeres for boys' and men's wear and cloakings to satisfy most any customer."  His "comfortables" were priced at "only $3" (about $60 today), and "white Marseilles quilts from $2.50 upwards."

Meyer Hoffman may have decided to change his professional course--from dry goods to real estate--in 1869.  On April 26, he advertised an 11-room house at 69 East 52nd Street for rent.  The ad noted, "Apply to M. Hoffman, 17 Carmine street."  Within months, the Solinger Brothers dry goods business had taken over the store here.

Operated by David, Isaac and Leopold Solinger, the store's significant business was reflected in a help-wanted ad on April 11, 1870:  "Wanted--Three first class dry goods salesmen; also one good window dresser.  Inquire at Solinger's, 17 Carmine st., corner Bleecker."

For some reason, Leopold Solinger dropped out of the business in 1872.  An announcement on August 5 explained that David and Isaac "will continued the business of dry goods at 17 Carmine street, under the style and firm of Solinger Brothers."  It may have been a hint of tensions among the siblings.  An advertisement for D. Solinger & Co. on February 9, 1873 suggests that Isaac had dropped out as well.  Among the items highlighted in the ad included, "A lot of French woven Corsets at 70c., and Thompson's improved glove-fitting Corset, $1.50, Mrs. Moody's Improved Corset, $2.75."  (The most expensive of those items would translate to $75 today.)

In the meantime, renters continued to occupy the upper floors.  Among the residents in 1875 were a Mrs. Pine, on the second floor, and John Lynch.  On December 18, The Evening Telegram reported that a "sneak thief" had entered Mrs. Pine's rooms "and stole $50 worth of clothing."  And a month later, on January 22, 1876, The New York Times reported that John Lynch had been arrested "for selling lottery tickets."

Lynch's surname reflected the increasing Irish presence in the neighborhood.  Another Irish-born resident here was John Kelleher, whose opinions on Irish rule differed from those of the New York Herald.  But when the newspaper initiated its Relief for Ireland fund in 1880, to relieve "the terrible suffering, actual and impending" of what it called the "cry of famine," Kelleher set his differences aside.  He wrote to the editor on February 5:

Ireland, always grateful, will ever remember you for your munificent gift and great effort to relieve the wants of her unfortunate children.  Although lately differing with you in your course on Irish affairs your generosity obliterates all grievances.  Please find enclosed $25 for the fund.  -- John Kelleher

The donation was a generous one, equaling nearly $800 today.

John B. Quinlan's grocery store replaced Meyer Hoffman's dry goods store around that time.  In 1884, C. L. Schnetzel owned 17 Carmine Street and the two-story building behind it (originally the boys' department of William McKimm).  Abram Levy operated his tailor shop in the latter building.  The New York Times explained the "six rooms above the first floor of No. 17 Carmine-street" were rented to six families.

At 8:00 on July 13, 1884, a fire broke out in Levy's store.  The New York Times said "the flames spread with remarkable rapidity in every direction, and speedily destroyed a partition between Levy's store and Quinlan's."  By the time firefighters arrived, flames were "bursting out into both Carmine and Bleecker streets."  Living "in the garret room" of 17 Carmine Street was Mary E. Lane, "an aged seamstress."  The old woman "lost her presence of mind," according to the article, and after escaping to the roof, ran back into the house and tried to get down the stairs.  She fell, overcome by smoke, on the third floor landing.  Happily, firefighter Charles Front found her and carried her out.  The other families "escaped to the street helter skelter."  Both proprietors suffered heavy damage, Quinlan's amounting to between $6,000 to $6,500.

Less than two years later, early on the morning of January 4, 1886, fire broke out in Quinlan's grocery store.  The janitor of the upper floors, John Toney, and his family lived on the second floor.  The New York Times reported that Toney and his sons, John and Maurice, "easily escaped to the street," but his young daughters, Britannia and Coralissa, 16 and 10 years old respectively, were confused.  Eventually, they "recovered their presence of mind" and "wrapped sheets around their heads and groped down the middle of the stairs." 

The family of Italian-born Angelo Cuneo was trapped.  (Cuneo's fruit stand was on the sidewalk at the front of the building.)  When Hook and Ladder Company No. 5 arrived, an extension ladder was raised to the window.  Cuneo passed his children--Maria, Carlo, Rosa, Giuseppe and Francesca--out the window before he followed.  The Times said, "a fireman took Mrs. Cuneo and her infant down stairs."  Once again, John B. Quinlan's store suffered significant damage, this time about $1,200 (about $41,300 today).

(Interestingly, Angelo Cuneo would develop his sidewalk stand into a fortune, earning the name The Banana King and establishing an Italian language bank, Banca Italia, at 28 Mulberry Street.)

In 1893, 25-year-old Charles Gengenbach worked as a delivery driver for John B. Quinlan.  "Then," said The New York Evening Telegram, "he was promoted to a clerkship."  At around the same time, Gengenbach "became enamored of a pretty blonde."  He told her that she could have "anything in the store she wanted."  He then provided an apartment for her.  The young man's romantic bent did not stop with that.  The Evening Telegram said, "Subsequently a pretty brunette took his fancy and he established her in a furnished room in West Thirty-third Street.  Soon another blonde captured his fickle heart and he supported her."

Obviously, Gengenbach's clerk's salary was severely taxed.  In May 1895, Quinlan suspected that his clerk "was living too fast."  He marked a few bills and placed them in the cash drawer.  They soon disappeared.  Quinlan had Gengenbach arrested and the marked money was found on him.  Gengenbach was charged on two counts of theft and he confessed that over a two year period he had stolen between $1,500 and $2,000.

John B. Quinlan operated his grocery store through the turn of the century.  By 1916, Leibowitz & Son, a novelty store, occupied the space and remained throughout the World War I years.

In the meantime, the congregation of Our Lady of Pompeii acquired the Greek Revival-style Third Universalist Church at 214 Bleecker Street in 1898.  In 1923, the city notified the church that its venerable structure sat squarely in the path of the coming extension of Sixth Avenue.  The congregation purchased the properties at 17 through 25 Carmine Street as the site of a new structure.  Ground was broken for the Matthew W. Del Gaudio-designed Church of Our Lady of Pompeii in 1926.

photograph by Jim Henderson

many thanks to historian Anthony Bellov for prompting this post