The Rosenmiller Drugstore Building - 172 Eighth Avenue

 

In 1843, John Hoey and his family lived above his grocery store at 172 Eighth Avenue.  The three-story, brick-faced building was a near match to several Greek Revival-style store-and-house structures recently built on the avenue.  The residential entrance, flanked by narrow sidelights, sat above two steps.  Typical of the style, the upper floors included unassuming brownstone lintels and a modest wooden cornice. 

The Greek Revival entrance to the upper floors was relatively intact as late as 1940.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

As early as 1848, Lewis Adolphus Rosenmiller's pharmacy shared the ground floor with Hoey's grocery.  Rosenmiller's family moved into the upper floors and the Hoey family relocated to 187 West 20th Street.

Born on February 14, 1807, Rosenmiller married Ann Grier Barnitz on November 26, 1844.  The couple had five children: Mary K., Charles Louis, Adolphus, Jane, and Mary Cope.

Early 19th century pharmacists were called chemists because they mixed the prescriptions they filled.  But ready-made cures were also available at the Rosenmiller drugstore, like Dr. Caywood's Preparation.  An advertisement on August 26, 1848, touted it as "A never-failing remedy for hard or soft Corns."  And in January 1853, Jones' Italian Chemical Soap and Coral Hair Restorative were offered here.  "One cures every skin disease, chapped or sore flesh, eruptions, scurvy, &c.; the other dresses the hair finely, stops it falling, makes it grow, &c.," said an advertisement.

By the time of the latter ad, John Hoey had moved his grocery slightly northward, to 195 Eighth Avenue.  Lewis Rosenmiller's drugstore had become an important fixture in the Chelsea community, and Rosenmiller was a trustee of the 16th Ward's public schools.

Around 1857, Rosenmiller took in a partner, Alexander Menzies.  The pharmacy's name was changed to Alexander, Menzies, and the new partner move into the upper floors with the Rosenmiller family for about a year.

The store and two others on Eighth Avenue were the victims of a con artist on March 25, 1857.  That day, Charles Macomber entered each of the drugstores and "asked for a bottle of Kellinger's liniment, and offered in payment at each place, a five dollar bank note on the Buffalo City Bank," explained the New-York Tribune.  He then left with his liniment and $4.50 in change.  The proprietors would later discover that the $5 notes were worthless.  The scam cost the druggists about $200 in today's money.

Rosenmiller's partnership with Menzies was short-lived.  By the early 1860s, the store was again being run solely by Rosenmiller.  It was, as well, a gathering place.  The New York Herald would later recall:

His office was the resort of the literati and medical practitioners of the locality, and it was the scene of many a learned discussion on medical science, politics and questions of the day.

Margaret Rebecca Rosenmiller was suffering from consumption in 1866, the mid-19th century term for tuberculosis.  Even her father's medical knowledge could not save the 20-year-old and she died on the evening of May 9.  Her funeral was held in the family's parlor the following evening.

At the time, the Rosenmillers' landlady was Janet S. Pound.  She sold the building to Andrew R. Leggat on February 23, 1871 and he continued to rent the property to Rosenmiller.

On his 68th birthday, February 14, 1875, Lewis Adolphus Rosenmiller suffered a fatal stroke.  In reporting his death, the New York Herald praised:

He was one of the original pioneers of the Sixteenth ward, when that locality was known as Chelsea village and all of Manhattan Island above Bleecker street was looked upon as being in the country.

Calling Rosenmiller "a man of irreproachable character," the article said, "on the west side no one was more widely known and respected."  

Eight months later, on October 26, 1875, a succinct advertisement appeared in the New York Herald:  "Drug store for sale--To close an estate.  172 Eighth avenue."

The drugstore was converted to Isaac Westervelt's butcher store.  Widow Ann Burns now operated the upper two floors as a boarding house.  Her residents in 1876 were James Cullan, who was in the furniture business; real estate agent James Gallagher; John McDade, a drover; and engineer John Sims.

Isaac Westervelt got into trouble with Sanitary Inspector Brennan.  On July 10, 1878 he was charged for the second time "in violation of the Sanitary Code."  He was charged with "housing a large number of chickens."

The butcher store soon changed hands.  Max Meyer ran it in 1879, followed by Leon Winkler by the early 1890s.  Winkler moved his business to New Jersey in 1894.  Four years later, his name was involved in a mysterious case.

On July 1, 1898, the New York Herald reported that young man had stumbled across a metal safety deposit box while "crossing the Hackensack meadows in North Bergen."  Police opened it and found "Italian and French bonds to the face value of $5,000.  There was also a bill of exchange for 100 gulden, payable to Leon Winkler, and a policy of insurance for $1,000, made out in the same name with the address, 172 Eighth avenue, New York."

Presumably, the safety deposit box had been stolen from Winkler, but no report had been filed.  Police went to 172 Eighth Avenue and found that Franz Amb was running his delicatessen in the shop.  The landlady, Mrs. Langtree, told them, according to the New York Herald, that "she remembered Mr. Winkler as a man who had kept a butcher shop there for about three years, but had moved away...She had never heard him speak of having been robbed."  Whether the mystery was ever solved is unclear.

On June 12, 1899, Andrew Leggat transferred title to the building to Jennie Z. Leggat.  Occupying the store at the time was Henry Beck's butcher shop.

Among the tenants of 172 Eighth Avenue in 1920 was Joseph B. Franklin Jr.  On the night of April 23 that year, just three months after Prohibition was enacted, he drove to Brooklyn and met two men who had whisky in their truck.  Unfortunately for all three, Patrolman Harry Cohen had the day off in recognition of his being awarded a medal for bravery.  Cohen celebrated by taking his wife to the theater.

The New-York Tribune reported that as Cohen was purchasing the tickets, "he saw a man take a case of whisky from the tail of a truck, put it into an auto runabout and start away."  The article said that Cohen, "forgetting all about his day off," sprang into action.  He overtook Franklin, then ordered him to follow the truck.  All three men were arrested and the truck, containing $7,000 worth of whisky, was confiscated.

After having been owned by her family for half a century, Eliza Leggat sold 172 Eighth Avenue in August 1921.  The following year, the Great Atlantic & Pacific Tea Co. opened a branch of its grocery store chain here.  It was replaced by 1940 by the Eigen Supply Co., a plumbing and heating supply store.

In the meantime, Edward Falzey, who lived here in 1934, had a shady background.  When a friend was charged with a crime that year, he accompanied him to the Tombs Courthouse on November 28 "to lend him moral support," as reported by The New York Sun.  His friendly deed landed him behind bars, however.

Other than the storefront, in 1940 the building's 1840s architectural elements survived.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Also in the courtroom was Sol Drapkin, the owner of a Ninth Avenue pawnshop.  The Sun reported, "He caught sight of Falzey sitting among the spectators and pointed him out to detectives as one of the men who held him up last March 26 and robbed him of $23,000 worth of jewelry."  Falzey was charged not only with the robbery, but with violating the Sullivan law (an early gun control statute), and felonious assault.

Living here in 1979 was William Alicia, who worked as a taxi driver.  On May 11 that year, the 37-year-old picked up an inebriated customer who refused to pay the $13 fare.  Alicia took him to the 17th Precinct station.  At around 7:45 p.m., while they were talking to Sgt. Harry Fagan at the front desk, a frustrated Alicia "hit the passenger with his hand once in the back of the neck," as reported by The New York Times.  The man fell to the floor unconscious.  He was taken to Bellevue Hospital where he died a short while later.  William Alicia was taken into custody, charged with manslaughter.

A laundromat occupied the store in the newly-remodeled building in 1980.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services. 

A renovation completed in 1973 removed the 1840s Greek Revival entryway and lowered the replacement to grade.  Brick lintels replaced the brownstone, and a faux corbel table of brick substituted the wooden cornice.

Easily ignored today, the diminutive structure belies its rich history of more than 180 years.

photographs by the author

The Michael and Rosa Wineburgh House - 25 West 76th Street

 

On February 9, 1895, the Real Estate Record & Guide described Cornelius W. Luyster as one of the few developers who built residences "for only the wealthiest and best classes of buyers."  The article went on to describe his three newly completed homes at 21 through 25 West 76th Street, designed by John H. Duncan.  Four stories tall, their basement through second floors were clad in Indiana limestone and the upper floors in buff-colored brick.  Duncan's chaste Renaissance Revival designs were described by the journal as "quiet, though handsome and dignified."

No. 25 is at the left.  The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, February 9, 1895 (copyright expired)

The western-most of the trio, 25 West 76th Street, was 25-feet-wide and cost Luyster $42,500 to construct--about $1.7 million in 2026.  Duncan's decorations were reserved and unobtrusive.  The doorway was framed in delicately carved foliate sheaves and the paired parlor windows wore a guilloche of intricate rosettes.

A band in a complex Greek key motif ran along the top of the second floor, where between the windows of the bowed bay a lion's head held a ribbon laden with groups of fruit.  The upper floor windows sat within molded architraves under molded cornices.  The copper terminal cornice wore a row of anthemions and lion masks, drawn from ancient Roman motifs.

Luyster had not scrimped on the interior details.  The Record & Guide described, "immense French plate glass mirrors in his hallways, where moderate and inferior ones would be found in other houses, and exquisite colored onyx tops on wash-bowls, where marble might have been used without prejudice."  The dining room was paneled in white mahogany "relieved with gold," and the fireplaces were "fronted with delicately-colored marble or onyx trimmed with silver or gold metal strips."  The article noted, "arrangements are made to cut off the servants from the rest of the family as much as possible."

Cornelius Luyster sold 25 West 76th Street to Michael Wineburgh on December 17, 1895.  He and his wife, Rosa, had one child, Dorothy.  

Wineburgh (whose surname would be confusingly spelled alternatively as Wineberg and Winburn) was an advertising executive.  He was out of town on business in March 1896, a few weeks after the house next door had been burglarized.  That crime had prompted Rosa to have many of the valuable items, like the sterling silverware, moved into an upper floor room.  But on the evening of March 15, Rosa hosted a reception "and a quantity of the silver was taken down to the first floor," explained the New-York Tribune.  "This was left on the sideboard over night."

The next morning Rosa went shopping.  While she was gone a policeman stopped by and the cook gave him a cup of coffee.  In the meantime, a crook was watching the house.  The New-York Tribune said, "The burglar doubtless waited for his opportunity, and, it is believed, that after the officer had drunk his coffee...the thief sneaked into the house and upstairs to the dining room."

Rosa returned home at noon and rang the bell.  She was surprised and terrified when a strange man opened the door.  He told her he was a police officer "and had come to investigate some trouble," reported the New-York Tribune.  Rosa tried to stop him, but he brushed by her and ran down the street towards Central Park.  The article said, "He was followed by two servant girls, screaming at the top of their voices."  One of the servants, Freda Lindaur, chased him all the way to the Central Park wall, then lost him.

The "audacious" burglar, as described by the newspaper, must have been quite an athlete.  As he raced away he was carrying a significant burden.  The article said that among the articles he stole were:

...a dozen oyster forks, with the initials "M. W." on the handles; a dozen coffee spoons, a pair of salad tongs, an almond tray and spoon, a soup ladle, five dinner forks, twelve pearl-handled knives and a varied collection of napkin rings, teaspoons and nut picks.

The crook had taken his time in choosing the loot.  Using acid, he tested the silverware and took only sterling pieces.

Four years after moving into 25 West 76th Street, Wineburgh added to his resume by incorporating the Omega Chemical Company with partner Bert M. Jones in January 1899.  The firm produced Omega Oil, a liniment.  An 1899 advertisement promised it "takes out soreness caused by hard work or hard exercise or hard pleasure."

Rather than spending the summer of 1901 in their Lakewood, New Jersey country home, Michael and Rosa sailed to Europe that year.  When they arrived back in New York on the White Star liner Majestic on September 4, 1901 they were stopped by a customs agent who noticed Rosa's necklace.  The New York Herald described the item as having "fifty or sixty pearls and valued at something like $4,000."  (The value would translate to about $156,000 today.)  The couple insisted that they had not purchased it abroad and was, in fact, a wedding present from Michael to Rosa on their wedding day 15 years ago.  The New York Herald noted, "She was wearing the necklace when she left the boat and made no attempt to conceal it."  

Nevertheless, The New York Times reported on September 7, "Collector Bidwell is holding a costly diamond [sic] necklace...pending an investigation of its history."  Michael Weinburgh was infuriated and Rosa humiliated.  Their attorney, Peter Zucker, told reporters, "Fortunately this is a case where we have ample proof, but it is too bad that a private citizen should be subjected to such publicity."  The New York Herald added, "The customs officers are inclined to think that the statement is correct and that the necklace will be released."

Like those of her neighbors, Rosa Weinburgh's entertainments were often elaborate.  On February 5, 1905, the New York Herald reported that she "recently entertained sixteen of her friends at luncheon.  The decorations for the day were orchids and white lilacs.  A string orchestra furnished music."

That luncheon was prepared by the Wineburghs' cook, Rosa Hahn, who was hired in 1896.  She was recognized by the German Housewives' Society at a luncheon on October 31, 1906 with a "golden bee," an emblem of industry.  Of the other 30 domestics awarded, she "headed the list with ten years' service in the home of Mrs. M. Weinberg," said the New-York Tribune.

Handan Welli would not be wearing a golden bee on her uniform.  The Turkish-born maid was hired by Rosa in Paris in July 1909.  Six months later, on the night of January 24, 1909, Handan returned home 45 minutes past her curfew.  Rosa Wineburgh fired her on the spot, but Handan refused to leave.

The New York Herald reported, "Policeman Loos induced the girl to go to the West Sixty-eighth street station without placing her under arrest."  Handan claimed that upon being hired, Rosa had agreed to pay her passage back to Paris.  "Mrs. Weinberg denied this assertion," said the article.  Handan Welli "finally went to the Leo Immigrants' Home, No. 6 State street, for the night."

Rosa was looking for a maid again in 1920.  Her advertisement in The New York Times on January 18 sought, "Lady's maid wanted; young woman between 25 and 30, Frenchwoman preferred, references required; good salary."

A succinct notice appeared in The New York Times on November 10, 1922:  "Winburn--Rosa, beloved wife of Michael Winburn and beloved mother of Dorothy, [died] in her 57th year, at her residence, 25 West 76th Street.  Funeral private."

A detail of the striking copper cornice.

Four months later, Michael Wineburgh sold 25 West 76th Street to James H. Cruikshank for $75,000 (about $1.4 million today).  In reporting the sale, The New York Times mentioned, "The seller has owned the above property since 1895."

The house was converted to upscale apartments.  Among the initial residents were the families of Dr. George Goodman and Henry Davidoff.

Charles Goodman received his medical degree from Western Reserve University School of Medicine in 1892.  The clinical professor of surgery at University and Bellevue Hospital Medical College, he and his wife had a daughter, Jane.  Like the Wineburghs before them, they spent time in the summer months away from the city.  On August 23, 1929, for instance, The New York Times announced, "Dr. and Mrs. Charles Goodman and Miss Jane Goodman have returned from the Adirondacks to their home, 25 West Seventy-sixth Street."

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Henry Davidoff, a 1904 graduate of Columbia University, was a teacher in Stuyvesant High School.  He and his wife, Elizabeth (known as Bess), had a daughter Amy.  And like the Goodmans, they would remain at 25 West 76th Street well into the 1930s.

In 1925, the Davidoffs sailed to France.  Years later, The New York Evening Post would recall that the family met singer Paul Robeson there.  Amy was 11 years old at the time and, according to the newspaper, "Robeson felt an instant attraction for the little girl, and the little girl felt an immediate love for the singer.  Thus the two became inseparable companions during many months in Paris."

Music had been the catalyst for the strong platonic bond between the star and the girl.  Despite her youth, Amy had learned "at least a thousand songs in five languages and sang them beautifully," said The New York Evening Post.  She would sing German ballads, Yiddish folk songs and Gilbert and Sullivan songs to Robeson and he would sing spirituals and arias to her.  The newspaper said that Amy, "had the impudence to correct him in pronunciation and pitch."  Robeson called Amy his "songbird."

Back in America, Amy and her parents would attend Robeson's concerts and plays.  Eventually she attended the University of Wisconsin.  Then, in December 1935, she was stricken with an illness and was taken to a Madison, Wisconsin hospital.  Bess left 25 West 76th Street to be with her.  In the meantime, word was sent to Paul Robeson, who was in California.  He traveled the 2,000 miles, engaged a special nurse and a parlor car "on the fastest train" to New York, and hired specialists to attend to the young woman.  He postponed a concert to be near her.

Amy improved.  Bess told a reporter, "Something of Paul Robeson's vitality and strength seemed to flow into her...So Robeson left, happily, on January 11 for London."  As soon as the celebrated singer left, Amy began failing.  She died on January 24 at the age of 22.  Writing in The New York Post on January 28, Ernest L. Meyer began his article saying, "Part of Paul Robeson, the singer, was buried in New York on Sunday."

When 25 West 76th Street was sold in 1951, it was described as a "six-family house."  The configuration lasted until 2016 when a renovation returned it to a single-family home.

photograph by the author

The Lost Cullman Bros. Building - 161 Front Street

 

photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Jacob and Joseph F. Cullman learned the tobacco trading business from their father, Ferdinand Kullman, who had been a tobacco merchant in Germany.  Now in America and with a newly-spelled surname, the brothers founded Cullman Bros. in 1892.  The company initially purchased American and foreign grown tobacco for resale to cigar manufacturers.  The enterprising brothers would continually grow their business--adding and changing their plan, acquiring other firms, and diversifying.  By the early 20th century, Cullman Bros. made its own cigars, and starting in 1906 manufactured cigars for an auxiliary firm, United Cigar Manufacturers Company.  (In 1917 United Cigar Manufacturers Company was renamed General Cigar Co., Inc.)

Joseph F. Cullman additionally dealt in Lower Manhattan real estate by the early 1910s.  On December 25, 1915, the Real Estate Record & Guide reported, "Mr. Cullman recently sold eight buildings, comprising the block front on Burling slip from Pearl to Water street."  The article said he had also just purchased five loft buildings in the same neighborhood to be "remodeled and reconstructed" for rental.  Importantly, it said that Joseph Cullman had recently bought "161-163 Front street, corner of Fletcher, which is about to be improved with a marble building for the occupancy of Cullman Bros."

Cullman had spent $48,000 for the 2,000-square-foot corner property.  A few weeks before the Record & Guide's article, on November 6, the New York Herald reported, "Mr. Cullman will construct for Cullman Bros. a two or three story marble building to be used exclusive for their business."

By the time architect Aymar Embury II filed plans in March 1916, the project had been scaled back.  The plans called for a one-story office building which would cost $20,000 to construct, or about $605,000 in 2026 terms.

The soaring ceiling height of the single-story building made it the equivalent of a two-story structure.  Embury's neo-Federal design smacked more of a bank than office building.  Sitting on a stone water table, the red brick facade was trimmed in marble.  Elegant arched windows were separated by shallow pilasters.  They supported a reeded entablature decorated with urns and blind rondels.  A brick parapet, interrupted by marble balustrades on the Front Street side, sat atop the cornice.

image via the NYC Department of Records and Information Services.

By the World War I years, Joseph Cullman's sons, Howard and Joseph Jr., were highly involved in the business.  They, too, were highly entrepreneurial and civic minded.  On June 7, 1918, for instance, The New York Times reported that Joseph Jr. was organizing the 306th Infantry Auxiliary, and on July 23, 1919, the Tobacco Record announced:

Joseph S. Cullman Jr. of the leaf tobacco firm of Cullman Bros., 161 Front street, is the directing force behind the big drive to win the cooperation of the many business interests in the metropolitan district in making the biggest kind of a success of the Actors' Memorial campaign.

The article noted that Cullman had been "active in a number of drives during the war."

The interior of the Cullman Bros. building was as bank-like inside as out.  photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In 1921, Joseph Jr. and Howard spearheaded a movement to clean up the downtown riverfront area.  On June 15, 1921, the New York Herald reported, "A conference to consider the abatement of cinder showers from stacks of a steam manufacturing plant near Burling Slip will be held to-morrow at the offices of Cullman Brothers, 161 Front Street."  That meeting resulted in the Cinder Committee of the Downtown League, headquartered in the Cullman Bros. building.  Three years later, the fight was ongoing.  On January 17, 1924, The New York Times reported that the committee "went on record 'condemning the company's plant.'"  (The offensive plant was operated by the New York Steam Company.)

In the meantime, Joseph Cullman Sr. remained the head of the firm.  He expanded by purchasing land in Connecticut for growing wrapper tobacco.  He and Howard were highly involved in Mount Sinai Hospital.  Joseph sat on its board and was chairman of the committee on medical instruction, and Howard was its president beginning in the early 1920s.

Joseph Cullman Sr. died on August 1, 1938 at the age of 83.  In reporting his death, The New York Times remarked, "Until two months ago, he had been going regularly to his office at 161 Front Street, home of the wholesale tobacco firm of Cullman Brothers, of which he was board chairman and former president."  Joseph Jr. was president and Howard vice-president of the firm.

photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Ten years earlier, Joseph and Howard organized the Tobacco & Allied Stocks, Inc. a tobacco trust.  By 1938 it controlled Benson & Hedges and in 1954, Joseph and his son, Joseph III, became part of Philip Morris's executive staff through a $22.4 million deal.  Another son, Edgar Meyer Cullman, joined Cullman Bros. in the 1940s.  He was in charge of operating the 600-acre Connecticut tobacco farm and sales.

Cullman Bros. and General Cigar Co., Inc. continued to grow and change.  In 1944, General Cigar introduced the Robert Burns Cigarillo--a panatela cigar that closely resembled a cigarette.

In 1961, Edgar Meyer Cullman purchased General Cigar.  At the time, it was the largest maker of mass produced cigars in the country.  By 1966, the firm had relocated to Midtown.  (Cullman Bros. would eventually become Culbro.)

Aymar Embury II's elegant one-story office building did not survive.  It was razed and the plot was used for a parking lot "for 21 passenger motor vehicles," as described by the Department of Buildings.  In 2015, the 31-story Fairfield Inn & Suites building opened on the site.

image via tripadvisor.com

The Philip Minis House - 117 East 78th Street

 

photograph by the author

As laborers returned to New York City following the end of the Civil War, construction resumed.  Within a few years years development was inching northward into the Upper West and Upper East Sides.  Around 1871, Nicholas McCool erected a dozen high-stooped brownstones at 103 through 125 East 78th Street, between Lexington and Park Avenues.  Like its neighbors, 117 East 78th Street was just under 19-feet wide and rose three stories above a high English basement.  The Italianate design included an arched entrance below a classical pediment supported by foliate-carved corbels.  The architrave framed parlor windows, as well, wore triangular pediments.

It appears that McCool originally leased the house.  Robert Wild Todd was a Yale University educated attorney.  He married Mary M. Shields on December 14, 1871, and they lived here as early as 1873.  By 1876, John B. Carroll, who worked in the city's Bureau for the Collection of Assessments, occupied 117 East 78th Street, followed by Joseph and Sophie Newman.

Sophie Newman died in the house in 1881.  Within months, George Frederick Seward and his wife, the former Kate Sherman, moved in.  The couple were married in 1870 and had four children.  Born in 1840, George Seward was the president of the Fidelity and Casualty Co. and a director in several other firms.

George's uncle, William H. Seward, had served as Abraham Lincoln's Secretary of State.  It may have been his influence that landed George's appointment as United States consul to Shanghai in 1861.  He became Consul General and, in 1875, Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to the Court of Peking.  When he and Kate moved into 117 East 78th Street, they had just returned to New York from Washington D.C. where he was the American Minister to China.  He had held that post from 1876 until 1880. 

George Frederick Seward.  from the 1911 "George F. Seward: Born November 8, 1840, Died November 28, 1910" by the Fidelity and Casualty Company of New York.

Seward was, as well, "a writer on political and financial matters," according to The Milwaukee Journal.  Among his works was the Chinese Immigration in Its Social and Political Aspects.

Around 1883, Martin Freeman and his wife, the former Henrietta Wise, purchased 117 East 78th Street.  The couple had two adult sons.  Freeman arrived in New York City from Belvidere, New York around 1879 and found employment in the clothing and men's furnishings business of Henry Wise & Co.  He would not only rise within the firm, but he would marry the owner's daughter.  Martin's brother, Joseph Freeman, also got a job within the firm and he, too, married one of Henry Wise's daughters.  Upon the death of Henry Wise, the firm was renamed Freeman Bros.

Martin Freeman, The American Hatter, June 1902 (copyright expired)

The Freemans maintained a country home in Elberon, New Jersey.  In April 1895, they advertised the property for rent, possibly because the family would be summering in Europe.  The ad described: "15 rooms; all modern improvements; with stable having accommodation for coachman's family and room for four horses; location the best."

Despite his relative youth, Martin Freeman suffered from heart disease.  On the evening of May 26, 1902, he died from a heart attack.  The American Hatter noted, "He was not quite 58 years of age."

On May 2, 1905, Henrietta Wise Freeman sold 117 East 78th Street to Philip H. Minis for $28,250, just over $1 million in 2026 terms.  

Before the Minis family moved in, they hired architect Henry Brooks Price and Hunt & Howells to make what the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide described as "extensive alterations."  Almost assuredly, one firm handled the structural changes and the other the interiors.  On March 21, 1906, the New-York Tribune reported, "The interior is to be remodelled [sic] and a new staircases installed."  The residence was enlarged by the seamless addition of a fourth floor.  It was likely during these renovations that new iron stoop railings in a Classical Roman cross-hatch design were installed.  The remodeling cost the Minis family the equivalent of $554,000 today.

A 1940 tax photograph captured the distinctive ancient Roman-inspired stoop railings.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Philip Minis was born in Savannah, Georgia in 1843 and fought for the Confederacy during the Civil War.  He came to New York City in 1871 and founded the brokerage firm P. H. Minis & Co.  Among his most visible clients was William K. Vanderbilt.

He and his wife, the former Roberta Dudley, had one son, Robert B. Minis.  According to the New York Herald, Minis was a founder of the Metropolitan Club and (ironically) a member of the Union Club.  By the time he purchased 117 East 78th Street, he was a partner in the brokerage firm of Minis & Davis.  

In October 1911, Philip H. Minis fell ill.  His condition worsened to pneumonia and he died in the house on October 22, 1911 at the age of 68.  In reporting his death, the New York Herald described him as "one of the oldest members of the New York Stock Exchange."

Upon the appraisal of Philip Minis's estate, many in the financial community taken aback.  On September 25, 1912, the New York Herald reported, "A woman as equal partner in a Stock Exchange firm was revealed yesterday...The report stated that Mrs. Roberta B. Minis, the widow, claimed to have been admitted to membership in the firm in 1906 and remained in it until her husband died."  Minis may have made his wife an equal partner to guarantee her financial future.  She received half of the firm's assets and about one-third of her Philip's estate.  Robert received the other two-thirds.

Robert and his wife, Janet, shared the house with Roberta.  On July 10, 1911, The Wall Street Journal reported that Robert had been appointed cashier of the National Reserve Bank.  It was a highly responsible and visible position.  Three years later, on February 5, 1914, the newspaper reported that he had been elected as a vice-president of the Mutual Trust Co., "which absorbed the National Reserve Bank."

In the meantime, Janet, was visible in high society.  In reporting on the activities in Southampton on August 28, 1922, for instance, the New York Herald said, "Mrs. Robert B. Minis, who for some weeks has been at the Irving House, gave a luncheon yesterday at the Meadow Club."

The house was photographed in 1940, just before the stoop was removed.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Minis family sold 117 East 78th Street to Harold Joseph Roig and his wife, the former Henrietta Bartlett Havens (known familiarly as "Henri"), in 1939.  Born in 1885 and 1892, respectively, the couple had three daughters, Jean, Carol and Leila.  Like their mother, at least two of them went by nicknames--Jean as "Cookie" and Leila as "Dee Dee."

As the Minis had done, the Roigs made significant alterations to the house before moving in.  They hired architect William Lawrence Bottomley to remove the stoop and lower the entrance below grade.  In transforming the original entrance to a window, Bottomley recreated the triangular pediments of the original windows.  And he skillfully removed the foliate entrance brackets and reinstalled them on either side of the new doorway.  (Tellingly, the certificate of occupancy noted, "entire premises to be occupied as [a] dwelling for one family and servants.")

Although Harold was born in Poughkeepsie, New York, his father, Adolph S. Roig, was Cuban-born.  Harold graduated from Columbia Law School and became CEO of W. R. Grace & Company and a co-founder and president of Pan American Grace Airways.  The family maintained a country estate in Great Neck, Long Island.  

Harold Joseph Roig, (original source unknown)

The Roigs moved in just in time for the announcement of Jean's engagement to John Thompson Ross.  The article in The New York Times on July 12, 1940, testified to the Roig sisters' privileged youth and their significant educations.  

Miss Roig attended the Brearley School in this city, was graduated from the Shipley School, Bryn Mawr, Pa., and in 1939 from Smith College.  She was introduced to society at a supper dance at the St. Regis in December, 1936, and is a member of the Junior League of New York.

Perhaps not coincidentally, the article noted that the prospective groom "is now with W. R. Grace & Co.

When the United States entered World War II, Carol enlisted in the U.S. Navy.  Her sense of patriotic duty led to romance and on August 19, 1945, The New York Times reported, "Lieut. (j.g.) Carol Roig of the Waves...was married [in Coronado, California] to Lieut. David Gapen Watrous, USNR."  Interestingly, none of the family members other than her father, was mentioned in the article.

On August 28, 1946, the Pan American-Grace Airways launched two passenger-cargo ocean liners, the Santa Sofia and the Santa Clara.  A crowd of about 500 watched as Henrietta Roig christened the Santa Sofia.  (The other was christened by the wife of another W. R. Grace & Co. executive.)

That would be perhaps that last time the Riogs' names would appear in the newspapers for quite a long time.  In 1946, Harold and Henrietta relocated to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

By the mid-1960s, the house was owned by Andrew Y. Rogers.  He was president of The Park Association of the City of New York, a civic and advocacy organization.  The group often battled city officials, like Parks Commissioner Robert Moses, regarding urban planning and the loss of public green spaces.

George A. Kellner occupied 117 East 78th Street as early as 1981, when he was an incorporator of Kellner, Dileo & Co., an investment firm.

photograph by the author

At some point, an unofficial renovation resulted in three units within the house.  The exterior, however, is little changed since William Lawrence Bottomley removed the stoop and remodeled the lower floors for the Riogs in 1940.  And, perhaps coincidentally, the lost stoop railing's Roman cross-hatch design is reinvented in the ground floor openings.

William Jose's 1873 5 Spring Street

 

image via apartments.com

On June 17, 1873, the "brick house in front and small brick building in rear" at 5 Spring Street were auctioned.  Their sale would doom the two buildings, which, like nearly all the vintage structures in the neighborhood, were falling victim to the drastically changing demographics in what a century later would be called Nolita.

On month later, architect William Jose filed plans for a 25-foot-wide, "five-story brown stone store and tenement" for developer F. Herlein.  His Italianate design was typical of the ubiquitous tenement buildings being erected throughout the Lower East Side.  Sheet metal lintels with molded cornices sat atop the upper floor windows and an arched pediment crowned with a Greek-inspired antefix sat atop the building's pressed metal terminal cornice. 

photograph by Ted Leather

What was not typical was the cast iron storefront.  Between two entrances--one accessing the upper floors and the other the store--was a triple arcade.  The paneled piers between the windows contributed to a handsome presence, but restricted the ability to display wares.  The lack of a vast show window did not deter Joseph Hugo to open his bakery in the space.

The 1873 storefront survived in 1940.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

No. 5 Spring Street filled with blue collar and middle-class tenants.  Living here in 1877 were three clerks, two carpenters, a shoemaker, a hatter, a laborer, a cigarmaker, a butcher, a maker of awnings, two widows, and an ostler (or stable worker). 

Many of the tenants were Irish-born, like Michael J. Riley, who worked as a letter carrier, and his wife and five children.  One afternoon in October 1884 he delivered mail to a Bond Street machine shop.  He placed a package of 125 letters on the counter.  They were addressed to Bond Street businesses that had already closed for the day.  The New York Herald explained, "In such cases the mail is taken back to the station and stamped with an explanation of its non-delivery."  Riley, perhaps distracted, "picked up his pouch and went out of the shop, leaving the package."

On October 8, the New York Herald reported that Michael Riley had been arrested, "on a charge of unlawfully detaining the mails."  Riley stressed that he "forgot all about it."  Perhaps coming to his defense, the article concluded, "Riley had a sunstroke last summer."

Sam Erwin Ryan, born in 1828, was described by the New York Herald as "one of the oldest Irish comedians on the American stage."  The widowed entertained died here on November 15, 1891 at the age of 63.  In reporting his death, the New York Herald remarked, "He had been forty years on the stage, and had been a conspicuous actor in his day."

Unthinkable today, working class parents often sent their small children on errands, even at night.  On Saturday night January 9, 1897, Detectives Summers and Lynch noticed five-year-old Lee Collins, whose family lived at 5 Spring Street, "walking along that thoroughfare...with a can."  They asked the boy where he was going and he said he was off to get some beer.

The policeman followed him to Henry Barr's saloon at 14 Spring Street, "and saw the bartender, Clement Kirschner, sell him a pint of beer."  Although Kirschner was arrested, Lee Collins' parents were not accused of any wrongdoing (and apparently Lee Collins went on his way home unaccompanied with the pail of beer).  When the bartender faced Magistrate Deuel in the Centre Street Police Court, he received "a severe lecture."  Deuel "told him he ought to be ashamed of himself to sell beer to a child" and placed his bail at $1,000 (a stunning $40,000 in 2026 terms).

The Commerford family lived here in 1898.  The New York Journal and Advertiser said that Patrick Commerford "is accustomed to putting a little whiskey in his black coffee at breakfast."  On September 4, however, there was no whiskey in the apartment, so Maggie Commerford was sent to the apartment of her aunt, Kate White, at 239 Mulberry Street to get some.  The New York Journal and Advertiser said Maggie was three-and-a-half years old.  The New York Herald placed her age at nine.  Either way, the newspapers' reporting on the events that followed, however, were consistent.

Maggie went to her aunt's home and, according to Kate White, she filled Maggie's pint bottle with whiskey "and told the little girl to carry it home to her father," as reported by the New York Herald.  On the way, "Little Maggie evidently became thirsty," said the newspaper.  The girl drank the entire pint bottle of whiskey.  The New York Herald said she "was picked up from the sidewalk in Mulberry street yesterday in an unconscious state and carried to St. Vincent's Hospital."

Maggie told officials, "It felt just like I had played too much 'ring-around-a-rosy.'"  And asked why she drank it, she replied, "Oh, I just tasted it, and it seemed to taste good, and I tasted it all up."  Mrs. Commerford took the girl home and Patrick Commerford was arrested.

By the turn of the century, Mary Seibert ran the bakery.  The workspace and ovens were in the basement and Mary lived in an apartment above the bakery.  The business was apparently successful, because Mary could afford a live-in servant.  

The neighborhood was, by now, greatly filled with Italian immigrants.  In 1899 Paolo Lecestra arrived from Italy, "leaving his wife, Luigia, behind until he could get money enough to buy her passage with," explained The New York Sun.  He was not here very long before he found a job as a pressor in a tailor shop.  Just as quickly, he fell in love with a co-worker, Rosina Ignelia.  

Lecestra married Rosina in November 1899 and they moved into 5 Spring Street.  In the meantime, Luigia Lecestra was also working towards her passage.  On April 4, 1901, The Sun reported, "Six months ago Luigia, the first wife, scraped together enough money to come to this country."  Paolo Lecestra met Luigia at the pier, "but gave her an angry reception," reported The Sun.  What followed was remarkable.  The article recounted:

Then he took her to his home at 5 Spring street and introduced her to Rosina, who he said was his lawful wife under the laws of the United States.  Lecestra told Luigia that she might remain if she did as she was told.  Her duties were to keep house for her husband and Rosina, who worked together in the tailor shop.

Luigia later described the arrangement.  The Sun recounted, "Lecestra maintained wifely relations only with Rosina who is younger and prettier than Luigia," adding, "Luigia was the household drudge."  The heartbroken Luigia spilled out her woeful condition in a letter to her uncle in Italy, who was an attorney.  He forwarded it to the Italian Consul, which turned it over to the New York District Attorney.  On April 3, 1901, Paolo Lecestra was arrested for bigamy.  The New York Sun reported, "Rosina kissed him and wept when Lecestra was taken away."

The Pavone and Versa families lived here in 1906 when their mischievous sons went on a rampage.  On August 29, they and three other Italian boys boarded a subway "loaded down with apples," as worded by the New-York Tribune.  The article said they "amused themselves by throwing apples at everybody in the rear car."  The motorman stopped the train "and blew the train whistle repeatedly."  Two officers responded and the "boys resisted arrest, but were subdued."  The five were "locked up charged with disorderly conduct," said the article.

Joseph Marino, who lived here in 1935, was doing well enough financially to afford an automobile.  In September that year, the car was stolen and the thieves removed the license plates.  Although the vehicle was not readily recovered, the plates showed up the following month as part of a grisly discovery.  

On September 30, gangster Joseph "Pretty" Amberg and his chauffeur, Morris Kessler "were lined up against the wall in a Brownsville garage, after the fashion of  the celebrated St. Valentine's Day massacres in Chicago, and were riddled with bullets," reported The New York Times.  On October 24, the newspaper revealed, "'Pretty' Amberg's body was found early yesterday morning in a blazing automobile which had been left in front of 131 North Elliot Place, Brooklyn."  The plates on the car belonged to Joseph Marino.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Joseph Bianco was discharged from the Army in October 1945.  The veteran returned to New York, got a job driving a milk wagon, and moved into 5 Spring Street.  His heroism ended at the end of the war.  

In March 1946, five teenaged boys were arrested "as juvenile delinquents," explained The New York Times.  The boys confessed in a string of tenement building burglaries and arsons.  One of the fires nearly resulted in the death of a sleeping girl.  In interrogating the teens, police discovered that 22-year-old Joseph Bianco was a modern day Fagan.

On March 11, 1946, The New York Times reported that he "looked defiantly yesterday in Felony Court as the prosecutor related...that Bianco trained five boys, all under 16 years old, not alone to be burglars but to set fire to three lower East Side tenement apartments to conceal their crimes."  Bianco pleaded ignorance of the crimes, saying he had accepted the loot from the youths, but insisted, "I didn't know they had stolen that stuff."

When Bianco got out of prison, he remained friends with a resident of 5 Spring Street, Joseph Trulio.  On December 26, 1950, The New York Times reported that the two men confessed to "holding up thirty hotels in the last two weeks, nine of them on Christmas morning."  In court, Magistrate Brenner asked Bianco, "Why pick hotels?"  He replied, "Hotels are easier.  They have big lobbies and you can make a quick getaway."

photograph by Ted Leather

Changes in the neighborhood were reflected by Sweet and Vicious, a night club, occupying the ground floor space in the early 2000s.  A renovation completed in 2016 modernized the storefront, home to The Tavern today.  Although the paneled piers remain, the arched openings are either squared off or covered by signage today.

many thanks to reader Ted Leather for suggesting this post