On September 16, 1854, Matthias Banta purchased the triangular parcel that wrapped the north side of Stuyvesant Street and along the south side of East 10th Streets. Architectural historians generally agree that James Renwick, Jr. designed the rows of Anglo-Italianate-style homes that Banta erected on the site. Completed in 1861, they were five stories tall above short basements. Sitting upon rusticated stone bases, the upper floors were faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone. The tall, fully-arched windows of the second floor held hands by means of a stone bandcourse. Each of the architrave frames of the upper openings were treated slightly differently. The houses ranged from 16- to 32-feet wide.
Among the widest was 33 Stuyvesant Street at four bays wide. It appears that the dwelling was initially operated as a high-end boarding house. The affluence of the residents was reflected in a crime against Anna Francis in 1862. On March 7, Frederick McAlpine pleaded guilty to stealing jewelry from her rooms and was committed to the House of Refuge--a facility for delinquent youths. The jewelry was valued at $76--or about $2,450 in 2025 terms.
An advertisement in the New York Herald in 1865 read:
Elegantly furnished rooms to let--to single gentlemen or gentlemen and wife, with full Board for the lady. Apply at 33 Stuyvesant street.
(The unusual circumstances meant that only the wife of a renting couple would be fed.)
In 1867, attorney Joshua B. and Mary R. Jenkins purchased the house. The couple had at least one young adult son, Charles. Joshua Jenkins died in 1872 and Mary began taking in roomers to augment her income. Her ad on May 29 that year read:
A lady, living in her own elegantly furnished house, would rent Rooms, without board; gentlemen will find a delightful home. 33 Stuyvesant street.
Among her initial tenants was Henry T. Carroll, who taught in the boys' department of School No. 18 on East 51st Street. In 1873, Siegfried Ehrenberg, the president of the Dry Goods Clerks' Early Closing Association, listed his address here.
Mary R. Jenkins soon rethought her operation and by 1874 was running a full fledged boarding house. She advertised in February that year, "Wanted--A girl from 14 to 16 years old, to make herself generally useful in a private boarding house, one speaking French preferred."
Her boarders were well-heeled, like Dr. James L. Wilson, who lived here from about 1877 through 1879. Attorney Michael A. Gearon lived here in 1882 when he and his partner, William K. Lancaster, were administrators of the estate of wealthy Jacob P. Kniffen. That fall, Gearon drew a large amount of money from the Kniffen trust and disappeared. Authorities searched for him but, as court documents in 1883 revealed, a clerk went "to his last known place of residence at No. 33 Stuyvesant Street...at different times of the day, but were unsuccessful in finding him."
In 1889, 28-year-old Samuel Blumenthal arrived in New York from Russia and took a room here. He got a job as an agent for a Philadelphia-based watch company and for the next few years saved money in hopes of bringing his girlfriend, Annie Smolin, from Moscow.
Seven years after first moving into 33 Stuyvesant Street, Blumenthal lost his job. To add to his problems, he had loaned money to someone who did not repay it. When Blumenthal did not come downstairs for breakfast on April 16, 1896, Mary Jenkins knocked on his door. Getting no response, she found Policeman Heiderich on the street. The New York Herald reported, "he kicked in the door. Blumenthal lay on his bed unconscious." He was transported to Bellevue Hospital where "the doctor worked for two hours on the man, but could not restore him to consciousness."
Blumenthal had left a note that said he had "good cause for suicide, as he was in hard luck," according to the article. He asked that his brother; his "sweetheart," Annie Smolin; and Rev. S. Ehrmann back in Russia be notified. Three days later, the New York Herald said, "He is lying at Bellevue Hospital in a critical condition."
Mary R. Jenkins eventually moved into the basement level. The Washington D.C. newspaper The Evening Times noted that although she, "owned the house, she lived in rather squalid quarters and let furnished lodgings on the upper floors." The article added, "Her neighbor believed she had a great amount of money."
The 70-year-old suffered a horrific incident on October 23, 1890. In the basement dining room was a gas stove which was used "for heating purposes," according to The Sun. It was "burning high" on that chilly morning, and Mary settled down in an armchair next to it and dozed off.
At around 10:30, Ella Aggler, "the colored servant employed by Mrs. Jenkins," as described by The Evening Times, entered the kitchen. In highly callous wording, the newspaper said that Ella "saw the body of the old woman on the floor burned to a crisp." Evidence--like the scorched chair and burned spots on the table and tablecloth--showed that Mary had wakened to find her clothing had caught fire from the stove. "She ran around the table, the burning pieces of clothing dropping to the floor, and stumbled into the kitchen where she must have fallen, striking her head on the stove."
Stunned by the blow to her head (there was blood near her head on the floor), she succumbed to the flames. The Sun said, "her clothing was entirely burned away and her body was charred." The article noted that she had "lived in the house, which she owned, for over thirty years."
Elias Stone purchased 33 Stuyvesant Street in May 1899 and almost immediately leased it to Mathias Fettinger. He and his wife continued to operate it as a boarding house. In addition to the Fettingers in 1902, according to court documents, "three married couples, a few single men and one single woman, a typewriter for a firm at Broadway and Broome street," lived here.
The unmarried men were all waiters at the Cafe Boulevard on Second Avenue. The nature of their jobs meant that they returned home between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m. The nocturnal foot traffic caused suspicions for one neighbor.
"A mother at 9th and Stuyvesant streets," as identified in court papers, complained to Police Inspector Adam A. Cross that 33 Stuyvesant Street was a disorderly house--or brothel. A policeman named Hibbard was detailed to surveil the house in plain clothes. Sergeant James Churchill testified in part on January 6, 1902,
Every effort was made by Patrolman Hibbard to obtain any evidence that this house was of a disorderly character, that men called at late hour[s] or that disorderly acts could be witnessed at the windows.
He found "nothing of the kind," other than the waiters returning home. Hibbard interviewed neighbors who had no complaints about the Fettingers. Finally, he confronted them directly. Churchill said, "Mr. Fettinger and his wife welcomed an inspection of the premises...and the officer states that appearances indicate that this is a respectable house."
Elias Stone died in 1907, but his heirs retained possession of 33 Stuyvesant Street for several years.
Among the residents in the early 1920s was composer and musician Henry Cowell. Born in March 1897, he began playing violin at the age of four. He started learning the piano at the age of nine and enrolled in the music department of the University of California, Berkeley in 1914. In 1924 he founded the New Music Society and today is remembered as one of the nation's most influential composers.
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Henry Cowell, from the cover of a 1924 Carnegie Hall program. (copyright expired)
On August 27, 1959, The Villager reported that 33 Stuyvesant Street had been sold, describing it as a "multiple dwelling." The article said that the new owner would "remodel" the structure. The alterations resulted in a two-family home.
Occupying one of the new apartments was bachelor Walter H. Campbell. Born in 1921, he attended the University of North Carolina and served in World War II. Formerly an editor with the Oxford University Press, when he moved into 33 Stuyvesant Street he was senior editor of Penthouse magazine. He died here at the age of 55 on February 15, 1976.
There are still two residences in the house. And although its brick facade could stand a gentle cleaning, it survives remarkably intact after more than 160 years.
photographs by the author
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