image via cityrealty.com
Thousands of citizens fled New York City to Greenwich Village following the outbreak of yellow fever in 1822. The population explosion necessitated a flurry of construction. Established builders were soon joined by unexpected speculators, like John R. Hedley, who erected a two-and-a-half story house at 96 Houston Street around 1828.
Before 1808, Nicholas Bayard III had cut a road through his property which he named Houstoun Street, named for his son-in-law, William Houstoun. It was later corrupted to Houston Street, and when it was extended east to connect with North Street, this section became West Houston Street.
The brick-faced house originally featured a stone stoop. Its Federal design included Flemish bond brickwork, splayed and stepped lintels, and two dormers at the attic level.
Originally, 96 West Houston would have looked very much like its contemporary at 195 West Houston Street. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.
Hedley leased the residence. In 1829 it was shared with the families of William R. Thurston, the president of the Merchants' Insurance Company; and Gilbert Everinghim, a fabrics dealer, and his wife, the former Phoebe Delaplaine. The following year, merchant Israel S. Tucker and his family occupied the house.
By the end of the Civil War, the ground floor of 96 West Houston Street had been converted for business. A. Loppin's shop, here as early as 1871, created trimmings for milliners. On September 1, 1871, he advertised, "Artificial Flowers--Good hands wanted; none but first-rate workers need apply," and on September 12, 1883, an ad in The Sun read, "Ostrich Feathers--Wanted, a girl 14 years old to learn the trade."
At the time, Andreas Eppler and his wife, the former Annie Deisenroth, ran the Appenzeller Hof, a boarding house for German immigrants on Wooster Street. Among their boarders was John Roggenbrod. Unknown to the Epplers, he was seriously disturbed and developed a dangerous infatuation with Annie, one that festered even after he moved out.
On January 14, 1884, Annie went to the Washington Market with $800. She never returned. Andreas, according to The New York Times, spent all his money "in hunting for his wife." He lost the boarding house and opened "a miserable little restaurant in the two-story frame building No. 7 Chrystie-street."
In the meantime, Annie was frantically trying to get back to her husband. The day she disappeared, Roggenbrod met her at the market, "put a [drugged] handkerchief to her face, and made her oblivious of all that happened until she found herself in a railroad station at Philadelphia," reported The Times. Roggenbrod told her he "would kill her rather than lose her." He took her money and forced her to live as his wife, moving around until they took rooms at 96 West Houston Street. After living there for six weeks, Annie finally saw a chance to escape.
During the second week of July 1885, she appeared at Andreas's restaurant and "regaled her spouse with her adventures," said The New York Times. She told him she feared for her life and Eppler promised to protect her. She would need protection, as it turned out, twice.
On August 15, Annie left the restaurant to buy meat on Bayard Street. Andreas watched her from the window and saw Roggenbrod following her. He caught up with him just as Roggenbrod was about to seize Annie by the shoulder. The Times reported, "Eppler contented himself with knocking Roggenbrod into the gutter and escorting his wife home."
Then, on August 25, Annie left again to buy provisions. Near Forsyth and Divisions Streets, she was attacked by Roggenbrod who "struck her fiercely with his fists upon her left eye and breast, and then drawing a razor tried to cut her." He slashed her forehead and left ear before her screams brought help from a passing man. He held Roggenbrod until Annie was at a safe distance, then allowed him to flee. Despite bleeding profusely, Annie pursued Roggenbrod, shouting for passersby to stop him. When she saw a group of boys, she shouted, "Ten cents for you if you don't lose him."
Eventually Roggenbrod was found hiding in a cellar where he had attempted to cut his throat. Annie was treated by a police surgeon then taken to her home, "suffering severely from shock, as well as from her injuries," according to The New York Times. Roggenbrod was taken to the Chambers Street Hospital where he was arrested.
In March 1886, Andrew Jahn purchased 96 West Houston Street for $14,500 (about $500,000 in 2025 terms). He and his wife, Maria, had at least two sons, Henry and Harry.
The family took in roomers over the years. Their most colorful tenant was "Sconchin" Maloney, who arrived in New York from San Francisco in 1897. The Sun described him as "an Irishman with a Western reputation and a faculty for getting into trouble here in the East." The newspaper said, "Out West his main business seems to have been doing work for politicians and acting as the bodyguard of millionaires." The scrappy 60-year-old was "handy with his fists."
Since moving to New York, Maloney "spent much time around the uptown hotels and saloons," according to The Sun. But his quarrelsome personality resulted in his being prohibited from many establishments. "He got into so many arguments that several hotel proprietors barred him from their places."
In November 1898, while living here, Maloney was arrested "for creating a disturbance on Broadway." A month later, on the evening of December 2, he walked into the Imperial Hotel to buy a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle. Unfortunately, it was one of the establishments from which he was barred and before he could purchase the newspaper, he was ordered out. When he refused to leave, the hotel detective, another Irishman named Joseph McMullin, attempted to eject him. (Interestingly, the two already knew one another from San Francisco.)
Fisticuffs followed, during which McMullin "was getting the worst of the scuffle and he pulled his billy," reported the Chronicle. Bystanders pulled the two apart and Maloney left. But half an hour later, while Maloney was standing at the corner of Sixth Avenue and 31st Street, "McMullin ran up behind him and struck him with a club." The fight started up again. Both were locked up and charged with disorderly conduct.
By then, the Jahn boys were teenagers. On September 2, 1899, an advertisement appeared in The Metal Worker that read, "Young man, 18, desires to learn tinsmith and cornice making trade; has knowledge of roofing. Henry Jahn, 96 West Houston street, New York." And on November 6, 1903, The City Record noted that Harry John had taken the civil service test to become a police officer. (It was his second attempt.)
Andrew Jahn died in the house on August 4, 1908 and his funeral was held here two days later. When Maria sold the property in April 1914 to Joseph Personeni "for about $20,000," according to the Record & Guide, it was still described as a "2-1/2 story building."
It was most likely Personeni who changed that description, removing the stoop and lowering the doorway to the sidewalk, and raising the attic to a full third floor. A brick parapet forewent a cornice.
Seen here in 1932, the lowering of the doorway resulted in a disproportionately large transom. from the collection of the New York Public Library
The basement level was converted to a restaurant. Like all restaurants around the nation, it was greatly affected by the enactment of Prohibition. And like many establishments, the Alce D'Oro quietly ignored the law. On July 3, 1926, The Billboard reported on 21 "padlock decrees" that had been slapped on establishments by Prohibition agents. "The Alce D'Oro, 96 West Houston street, was ordered closed for three months," said the article.
Rocco and Rosina Bochicchio purchased 96 West Houston Street in 1929. The Record & Guide described it now as a "tenement," meaning that it was a multi-family building. The Bochicchios lived in one of the apartments.
Shortly after midnight on November 10, 1931, Rocco Bochicchio notified police that his car was taken from in front of the building. Unfortunately for him, he would not get it back--at least not in the shape it was when stolen.
Several hours later, patrolman Edward Rogers was standing at Bayard and Mott Streets when he recognized the license plate of Bochicchio's stolen automobile. He ordered the driver to stop. "Instead the driver turned out the lights and stepped on the accelerator. The car shot west in Bayard street," reported The Evening Post.
Rogers picked up another patrolman and they commandeered a delivery truck. A scene straight from a cops-and-robbers movie followed. The Evening Post said,
The machine with the Negroes careered through White Street and into Broadway with the patrolmen, leaning from the running boards of the truck, firing at the fugitive machine whenever it presented a target.
Another cop, John Henle, joined the chase in a taxicab. "He also fired at the fleeing car," said the article. At Third Avenue and 13th Street, the driver lost control and crashed Bochicchio's automobile onto the sidewalk. He and his five passengers fled on foot. Four were arrested shortly after.
A scar in the brickwork testifies to the original location of the entranceway.
A renovation in 1941 resulted in a store in the basement, and two apartments each on the other floors. Among the tenants in 1944 were the Albano family: Vincent Jr., John and Geraldine.
By 1996, the commercial space was home to the Alu Showroom, an aluminum fixture firm. It was replaced in September 2012 by Fair Folks, a cafe/art gallery. The New York Times explained on September 27, "For $25 a month, members get unlimited coffee and espresso, and discounts on the art and design." More recently, Sekai, Omakase, a sushi restaurant, moved in.
Despite the significant renovations, little imagination is necessary to envision 96 West Houston Street as it looked in the 1830s.
photographs by the author
.png)
No comments:
Post a Comment