Kurtzer & Rohl's 1892 338 East 5th Street

 photograph by Carole Teller

Born in Germany, August Ruff was responsible for erecting dozens of apartment buildings before his death in 1921, often hiring two countrymen--Frederick William Kurtzer and Richard O. L. Rohl--to design the structures.  On October 29, 1891, Ruff purchased the five-story mineral water factory at 338 and 340 East 5th Street for $42,000.  Within a month, Kurtzer & Rohl filed plans for two "five-story brick flats" on the site.  The construction cost of each would be $18,000, bringing Ruff's total outlay for the project to about $2.85 million in 2026 terms.

The architects drew from a grab bag of styles in designing 338 East 5th Street (which was a close match to 340).  The undressed brownstone bands that alternated with planar stone at the first floor were Romanesque Revival inspired; but the skillfully carved square, engaged Corinthian columns that flanked the entrance were purely Renaissance Revival in style.  The latter style made an encore in the carved panels between the first and second floors, the Corinthian capitals of the double-height piers of the third and fourth floors, and in the terminal cornice.

Decades of paint have obscured the once-crisp, expertly executed carvings.  photograph by Carole Teller

The brick-faced upper floors were trimmed in terra cotta and brownstone.  A blend of neo-Grec and Queen Anne, the latter appeared in honeycomb brick panels.  Ornate terra cotta tympana decorated the top floor windows. 

The four apartments per floor--two in the front and two in the rear--were rented to working class families.  While wealthy families uptown feted their daughters with debutante dances and sent their sons off to Columbia or Harvard University, the families of 338 East 5th Street sent their children to work.

Among the early residents was the Levy family.  Fanny Levy, like hundreds of young women in the neighborhood, worked in a clothing factory.  In the fall of 1895, the cloakmakers' union went on strike.  On November 8, Fanny joined "a mob of women and girls" who assembled in front of A. F. Hochstaders' cloak factory at 84 Greene Street to protest non-union workers.

According to the New York Herald, this protest was one of several that were made up mostly of women.  The article said, "It is now believed that their participation is encouraged by the leaders of the strike, on the supposition that the police will deal more gently with women rioters than with men."  Several of the protests devolved to "riots," including the one on Greene Street.  The New York Herald reported that the strikers "made a furious attack on both non-union men and women when they came to work," adding, "Some of the women tore the whiskers of the men and others made a rush for the non-union girls and tore their clothes and pulled their hair."  Four women were arrested, including Fanny Levy, who was fined $10 (about $386 today).

Living here as early as 1895 were Gustave Hammer and his wife, Louisa.  That spring, according to Hammer, Stanley Glass visited their apartment "and told him of a wonderful secret a friend of his possessed," recounted the New-York Tribune on September 19, 1895.  Glass told the couple that his friend was an alchemist, "and with a little brass, some copper, a few platinum filings and the wonderful secret could procure any amount of gold."  The problem, of course, was funding the process.  The New-York Tribune reported, "Hammer and his wife became interested and consented to go into the business."

Glass took Hammer to meet M. Pearlman, who not only "claimed to be able to turn common metals into pure gold, but said they could make gold swell itself until ounces of it grew into pounds."  The gullible Gustave Hammer invested $250 in the venture.  And, not surprisingly, the gold was not manifested.

In September, Gustave had Stanley Glass arrested "for swindling."  According to Louisa Hammer, "Mary Pearlman, wife of the alchemist, had sought to have the case dropped by offering various sums of money, beginning with $50 and getting up to $100," reported the New-York Tribune.  In the meantime, the "alchemist" had skipped town.

The following year, another resident, Mamie Roberts, was scammed.  Starting in September 1896, William Doyle placed advertisements searching for "chorus girls to take out on the road in two theatrical companies which he said he was forming," reported the New York Herald.  They said that successful applicants would receive "good pay and steady employment."  Hundreds of young women, including Mamie Roberts, answered the ads.  As it turned out, William Doyle was both a scammer and a molester.  The "interviews" were held at Doyle's office--his bedroom in a Sixth Avenue house.

The New York Herald reported on November 15:

Many of them went there and upon his demand, they say, allowed themselves to be measured for costumes.  Doyle had samples of tights in his room and undertook, they say, to furnish costumes.

In each case, after the applicants had tried on the tights, they were hired.  Doyle told them he would order their costumes.  The women were charged $2 each for "registration on the books of the company" and $10 for a pair of tights.  He promised to deliver the costumes at the first rehearsal. 

An excited Mamie Roberts and around 100 others crowded into an Eighth Avenue music hall for rehearsal at 8:00 on the night of November 14.  The New York Herald reported, "Doyle did not appear, and as new squads of women kept arriving during the evening some of the would-be chorus girls became suspicious."  At 10:00 a few women went to the manager who told them that Doyle had not paid for the hall.

Doyle and his "clerk" were arrested on Eighth Avenue later that night.  The next morning Mamie Roberts was one of the throng of women who appeared to testify against Doyle in the Jefferson Market Police Court.

The Ginging family lived in a rear apartment on the fourth floor as early as 1902.  The Gingings had two young adult children, a son (who had served in the Spanish-American War) and a daughter.  Annie Ginging worked in a Lower East Side necktie factory "from ten to fourteen hours every day," according to The Evening World.  Annie's parents were rigidly strict, the newspaper saying, "Her mother kept close watch over her and refused to allow her to join the diversions of the other girls of the neighborhood."

On Saturday February 7, 1903, Annie went to Harlem to visit her aunt.  The Evening World said, "There was dancing and it was late when Annie reached her home."  Waiting up for her was Annie's mother, who "reproved her in no gentle language.  The father added added his protests."

All day long on Sunday, according to the newspaper, Annie's parents berated her behavior.  When Annie got up to go to work on Monday, her mother started in again.  Annie had already put on her coat to leave when she finally snapped, "If you don't quit talking about this I'll kill myself."

Annie's mother replied that her daughter would be better "dead than going to dances," and walked out of the room.

Annie Ginging climbed out of the kitchen window onto the fire escape and then waited for her mother to return.  When she did, Annie said, "Come here.  I am going to kill myself."  As her mother rushed to the window, Annie flung herself from the fire escape.

The Evening World reported, "Mrs. Ginging, peering through the fire escape, saw the flight of her daughter through the air and heard the sound of the body striking."  After striking several clothes lines, Annie hit the pavement on her head and was instantly killed.

On June 15, 1904, Kate Metteer and her six children boarded The General Slocum, a 235-foot steam sidewheeler chartered by St. Mark's Evangelical Lutheran Church for a day trip up the East River.  Around 10:00, as the vessel entered the treacherous Hell Gate section of the East River, fire broke out below deck, quickly reaching a locker filled with gasoline and other flammable liquids.  Panic ensued as the flames broke through the deck.  The life boats were stuck to the side, having been painted in place.  Pandemonium broke out as children jumped or were tossed into the river, some sucked under in the turbulent Hells Gate eddies, others pulled into the side wheels and beaten to death. 

Kate Metteer and her six children were among the throngs on the General Slocum, seen here just after setting off from the East River pier.  New York's Awful Excursion Boat Horror, 1904 (copyright expired)

Kate Metteer later told investigators:

I was sitting on the upper deck with the two smaller children and the others were playing around the boat.  When I heard the cry of "fire!" I yelled for my children.  They ran to me, and I told them to stay near me and they would be saved.  I climbed over the railing, holding the baby tight in my arm.  Somebody loosened my hold on the stanchion.  At that time a tug came alongside and I fell right on its deck with the baby in my arms.  The other children called after me, but when I looked up they had disappeared.  I was taken to North Brother Island and from there came home.  I got word William was in the Lebanon Hospital.  I can only hope my other children are saved.

The "baby" that Kate Metteer had held onto was three-year-old George.  William, who was four years old, was, indeed, in the Lebanon Hospital, as was his sister, 15-year-old Elsie.  Tragically, Albert, Robert and Frederick, 11, 10, and 8 years old respectively, were lost.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Not all of the tenants, of course, were hard-working and respectable.  Living here in 1911 were John Palismo and Morris Horowitz.  In the early hours of April 1 that year, they and three other men came across Charles Herman, who was a baker and lived across the street.  The New York Press reported, "Two of them beat him while the others were robbing him."  (The five thugs would have had a difficult task in dividing their spoils.  Herman only had a single dollar bill and some change on him.)

Herman's cries attracted Detectives Hooker and Ransberg.  They ran down and arrested four of the men, including Palismo and Morris.  The other culprit escaped.

By the end of the century, the East 5th Street neighborhood was seeing change.  Trendy shops and cafes opened on the avenues and in 2001, Jason Tang and Maki Kawasaki opened the tang kawasaki studio in 338 East 5th Street.  

Jason Tang and Maki Kawasaki were both born in 1977, Tang in Vancouver, Canada and Kawasaki in Kobe, Japan.  They met while studying architecture at Cornell University.  In their studio, they worked together on interior design, furniture design, and architectural commissions.

Even the heavily-carved entrance doors, painted today, with their interesting basket-weave panels survive after nearly 135 years.  photograph by Carole Teller  

Other than replacement windows and layers of paint on the basement and first floor masonry, Kurtzer & Rohl's tenement design survives remarkably intact.

many thanks to artist Carole Teller for suggesting this post