A creative brick frame, painted today, testifies to the original location of the entrance above the long-lost stoop. photograph by the author
In 1831, real estate developer Thomas E. Davis lined the entire block of St. Mark’s Place between Second and Third Avenues with first-class residences. The elegant tenor of the block spread eastward and within the decade upscale Federal and Greek Revival-style homes appeared on the block between First and Second Avenues.
Erected in 1845, the brick-faced, Greek Revival-style house at 73 St. Mark's Place was 25-feet wide and three stories tall. It became home to Oliver W. Bird, an importer, and his family until 1851 when the property was purchased by Joseph Conselvea Pickney.
Born in November 1821, Pickney and his wife, the former Hester Ann Bloomfield, had one child, Mary Caroline, born in 1842. Pickney's father, Peter A. J. Pickney, died in 1847 and his mother, Margaret Robertson Pickney, moved into the house with the family.
Pickney was the redemption clerk within the City's Department of Finance. As such, he handled administrative issues like the disposition of failed mortgages. He was, as well, a trustee of the Common Schools of the 17th Ward.
The affluence of the family was reflected in Hester's lost-and-found advertisement on May 17, 1858. The couple had attended Niblo's Theater in the Metropolitan Hotel on May 3. When they reached the theater, Hester realized she was missing her fur cape. (She, most likely, left it in a hansom cab.)
$5 Reward--Lost, in going to Niblo's on the evening of May 3, a Mink Victorine. The above reward will be paid by returning the same to No. 73 St. Mark's-place.
The reward for the lost mink would equal approximately $200 in 2025.
By 1859, Joseph Pickney was promoted to clerk of arrears. As such, he headed the Bureau of Arrears and had five assistants below him, along with the new Redemption Clerk.
Pickney had a serious decision to make in 1863. To augment Union troops, the Government enacted a draft lottery. A loophole allowed well-to-do prospective draftees to hire a stand-in. Those were most often needy immigrants whose families desperately needed the money. On December 19, 1863, Colonel James B. Fry published a list of persons "stricken from the list" of eligible draftees. Among them was Joseph C. Pickney. (To his defense, Pickney was 42 years old at the time.)
Margaret Robertson Pickney died in the St. Mark's Place house on November 2, 1865 at the age of 72. Her funeral was held in the parlor on November 5 at 1:00.
At the time of Margaret's death, the once refined neighborhood was experiencing a change. Waves of European immigrants flooded the district, resulting in well-to-do families moving northward. Their patrician homes, in most cases, were turned into boarding houses.
Just over two months later, on January 24, 1866, the New York Herald reported that the Pickney house had been sold for $10,200 (about $208,000 in 2025 terms).
Initially, the residence continued to be a single-family home. On April 16, 1869, an advertisement in the New York Herald offered, "A private family at 73 St. Mark's Place will rent Parlor Floor, handsomely furnished, to gentleman and wife, with Board. None but first class parties need apply."
The ad was answered by musician Joseph Poznanski. He and his brother, a fellow musician, were natives of Charleston, South Carolina. At the end of the Civil War, they had temporarily returned to their ravaged hometown to give concerts to raise money for the residents. On June 9, 1866, Charleston's mayor, P. O. Gaillard, presented the brothers with silver cups in appreciation. Joseph's read:
Presented by the City Council of Charleston, to Joseph Poznanski, April, 1866, in congratulation on his return to his native city, and in testimony of their appreciation of his brother and himself, in devoting their Concerts to alleviate the wants of their fellow-citizens.
The owners continued to take in one boarder at a time. In 1874, it was Minnie A. Flowery, a teacher; and in 1876, Edward Hare, who ran saloons on First Avenue and on Avenue C, and his wife lived here.
Despite the changes to the neighborhood, the property values on St. Mark's Place remained stable. No. 73 was sold at auction on April 23, 1880 with the winning bid being $7,000, or about $222,000 today.
The house was renovated the following year and again in 1891. During one of those projects, a triangular pediment was affixed atop the cornice. It was a visible sign that the house was now a multi-family building, home mostly to German-born residents.
Among them in the 1890s was the remarkable Dr. Louise Ziegelmeir Buchholz, an 1886 alumna of the New York Medical College and Hospital for Women. Living here as early as 1895, she was Professor of Chemistry and Professor of Hygiene and Dietetics at her alma mater. Dr. Buchholz would remain here at least through 1914.
Henry Lichig worked as a bookkeeper at 258 Canal Street and lived here in 1891. He was called to jury duty that summer and was the last juror selected in a weeks-long search. Lichig would sit on the jury of the "trial of Ameer Ben Ali, 'Frenchy No. 1,' for the butchery of old Carrie Brown," as worded by The Evening World on June 29.
Resident Frank Siegel was a chemist, but in 1895 he devised a method of obtaining additional funds. On January 16, The World reported that Jennie Marks was alone and "sewing in her front room on the first floor of No. 24 St. Mark's Place last night, when she heard a knock at the door." She opened the door to find a "fairly well-dressed man" holding a satchel in one hand and a revolver in the other.
"Your money or your life," he demanded. "Quick, or I'll shoot."
Jennie Marks replied, "All right, you needn't shoot. I'll give you all I have."
As she spoke, she moved closer to the would-be robber. Suddenly she jumped on him, knocked him to the floor and ran shrieking to the street. Policeman Uhl heard her screams and "soon had the murderous visitor under arrest," said the article.
At the Fifth Street Station House, it was determined that the rookie robber was 37-year-old Frank Siegel. His satchel (other than a pair of socks and some pretzels) was a newly assembled burglary kit. It included brass knuckles and a rubber bulb filled with ammonia. The World remarked, "The revolver was loaded. Like the brass knuckles, it was new."
Augustus Van Horne Stuyvesant purchased 73 St. Mark's Place in July 1898 as an investment. The millionaire was the last surviving descendant of Peter Stuyvesant to carry the surname. Three months after he purchased the property, on September 17, 1898, the Record & Guide reported that he had leased it "for 20 years, at $625 per year." (The annual rent would translate to about $24,500 today.)
Sarah Rubinter had come to America alone from Germany in 1900, "a friendless immigrant girl seeking employment," as described by The Evening World. She was approached by Samuel Kitner, who offered to give her a room and employment. Kitner, as it turned out, was "of the Gerdron type," according to the newspaper years later. The term referred to Emil Gerdron, who preyed on naive immigrant girls, imprisoning them and forcing them into prostitution--what at the time was called the White Slave trade. (Emil Gerdron and the term "Gerdron type" became well-known after one of his prostitutes murdered him in 1905.)
Samuel Kitner treated Sarah "with great cruelty" while "living off the money she had been compelled to go on the street to make," according to the New York Morning Telegraph. Sarah's mother arrived in New York City from Germany in 1903 and, according to the New York World, "found her daughter in her dreadful situation and rescued her."
Sarah and her mother took rooms at 73 St. Mark's Place. Escaping from the cruel, dominant pimp, however, was not easy. On August 18, 1905, Sarah was on the Bowery near Broome Street when Samuel Kitner saw her. The Evening World reported, "her former master came up to her and began to beat her. He told her he would kill her if she did not return to the life he had compelled her to lead."
Luckily for Sarah, plainclothes Detective Moran was passing by at the time. He arrested Kitner and the next day Kitner appeared in court. Sarah Rubinter was there, too. Having heard Sarah's testimony, Magistrate Steinert sentenced Kitner to six months in the penitentiary. It was the maximum sentence Steinert could legally impose.
The young woman's safety, however, may have been temporary. As Kitner was removed from the courtroom, he turned to Sarah and spat, "When I get out of this I'll come back and kill you."
A renovation begun in 1922, resulted in a "clubroom" in the basement, a doctor's office on the first (or former parlor) floor, and a duplex residence above. The stoop was removed in the alteration. The former entrance, now a window, and the new doorway at the basement level were given a framework of creative brick.
The rampant lions flanking the entrance in this 1941 photograph survive. via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.
The "clubroom" became home to East Side Post of the American Legion. The members hosted an annual 3-1/4 mile invitational race. It started at 73 St. Mark's Place and wound through the Lower East Side streets. Perhaps the post's first event, however, was its strawberry festival in May 1922.
The new doctor's office was occupied by Dr. John J. Kallen. The well-rounded physician also had an artistic bent. In 1924, WGY radio station initiated a "radio drama contest," noting that "each author had in mind the peculiar requirements of what is expected to be a new branch of dramatic art." On May 31, the Telegram and Evening Mail reported that of the 300 entries, Dr. Kallen's was one of ten to be produced on radio. His The Man Who Would Not Be King was described by the newspaper as "an historical drama."
Dr. Kallen remained here through the first years of the Depression. As early as 1932, Dr. Louis L. Goldblatt occupied the office. He had opened his practice in 1909 and specialized in "x-ray and laboratory" work, according to his testimony that year.
In 1947, the former American Legion space was converted to two apartments. At the time, dentist Dr. Henry C. Cerully had occupied the doctor's office at least six years.
On May 12, 1947, Dr. Cerully stepped into the waiting room where two patients were seated. "Who's next?" he asked, and a 22-year-old man stood up. He sat in the chair in the examination room. While Cerully prepared his instruments, the other man entered the room. The New York Times reported, "Holding their hands in their pockets as if armed, the men told the dentist it was a hold-up, tied his hands behind his back, gagged him with a towel and made him lie on the floor."
The thugs opened the safe and removed $75 in cash, a quantity of gold and silver (used in Cerully's dentistry), then took the doctor's gold wrist watch and an additional $75 from his wallet. Before walking out, they warned him to stay where he was for five minutes. After a few minutes, Cerully walked into the waiting room where a patient untied him. The article said, "The police could find no clue of the bandits."
A renovation in 1957 divided the duplex apartment into two units, and in 1974 the doctor's apartment and the third floor were converted to two apartments each. Through it all, the ever-vigilant stone lions, most likely placed in 1922, still stand guard.


.png)
You write, "...a triangular pediment was affixed atop the cornice. It was a visible sign that the house was now a multi-family building..." Was this a standard practice in NYC at the time?
ReplyDeleteThe triangular pediment was most often a decoration of a commercial or multi-family building; rarely on a private home.
DeleteI’m an architecture and history buff and am grateful for your irresistible blog. I’m curious about building naming convention. For instance, why is this the Pickney house and not the Bird house? Do you have your own rule or is it just how places have come to be known?
ReplyDeleteMy own process is that (in the case of a residence) it is most often the earliest resident or the one who occupied it for the longest time. (If the first owner was Brown and lived in a house for two years, and later someone named Smith lived in it for 50 years, Smith would trump Brown.) Other times, the name of the most significant occupant--artist, politician, writer, etc.--takes precedence. So, it is a rather subjective process.
Delete