The Lost William Fox House - 316 West 91st Street

This photograph of 316 West 91st Street and its mirror-image next door (left) was photographed in 1914.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

Charles P. H. Gilbert (known professionally as C. P. H. Gilbert) began his career as an architect in 1886 at just 25 years old.  Within a few years his upscale residential designs were in high demand and several developers commissioned him to design sumptuous homes in the Riverside Drive district.  In 1892, C. De H. Brower hired him to design two 20-foot-wide residences at 314 and 316 West 91st Street, just steps from Riverside Drive.

Gilbert produced two mirror-image, four-story houses in the Renaissance Revival style.  Their American basement plan placed each entrance atop a three-step stoop.  (The basement entrances were nestled under the stoops.)  Above a rusticate stone base, the upper floors were clad in light-colored brick and trimmed in sandstone.  The second floor windows were flanked by shallow pilasters and capped with Renaissance-style pediments.  Openings on the third floor sat within stone architraves capped with molded cornices, and those on the top floor were fully arched.

The purchaser of No. 316, a man named Ward, leased the house to stockbroker Alfred N. Benjamin and his bride, the former Eugenie S. Joyce.  The couple were married in December 1892.  Alfred had been a Wall Street broker since 1874 and his wife was described by The New York Sun as "a belle of Baltimore."  

The couple's romance had begun unexpectedly.  In 1891, Eugenie was spending the summer at Long Branch.  Although she was a competent swimmer, she ventured too far out and was caught in the undertow.  The New York Sun said, "Mr. Benjamin went to her rescue and brought her to the shore."  

The Benjamins filled the West 91st Street house with opulent furnishings and artworks.  An inventory included 72 "paintings by American and Continental artists" including George Inness and Jules Breton.  

Jules Breton's Le Repos hung in the Benjamin house.

The inventory also included "Louis XV gold drawing room furniture," a dinner service made by Cauldon China of England that The Sun said was "made to order at great cost," and "the largest Royal Sevres vase in this country."  That vase, said The Sun, was "formerly the property of the Comtesse de Kisleff of Homburg."  

The couple, who maintained a summer home in Short Hills, New Jersey, had a young son when they moved into 316 West 91st Street. 

The Benjamins' marital bliss was short-lived.  In 1895, the couple separated and Alfred moved into the Short Hills house.  He sent $60 to his wife each month (about $2,370 in 2026).

Eugenie soon showed a bitter and vengeful side.  When she saw Alfred's advertisement for a "good laundress," she hatched a scheme.  Agnes Trainor applied for the job and was hired.  The New York Press reported, 

She remained in his employ only one day and went away after leaving his linen hanging up to dry in the yard.  The cook had to go out and bring it in, and then the discovery was made that his five white shirts had been cut and slashed, most of them having the tails cut off, and his six collars and four nightgowns also had been made unfit for wear.

A search for Agnes Trainer found her in the basement of 316 West 91st Street.  Agnes was tried, but the judge decided there was not enough evidence to convict her.  The New York Press said that Eugenie, who had "been an interested witness of the trial," warmly congratulated Agnes upon the decision.

Eugenie obtained a divorce in July 1898 and took back her maiden name.  But she was not done with Alfred.  In May 1901, she sued him for $20,000 which she claimed he had borrowed and never repaid.  She won the suit.

Alfred and Eugenie as they faced off in court in May 1901.  The World, May 15, 1901 (copyright expired)

And, yet, Eugenie was still not done.  On June 25, 1902, The Press reported, "Alfred N. Benjamin's divorced wife, Eugenie S. Joyce, who has been seeking revenge on the Wall Street broker ever since she obtained her decree in July [sic] 1898, has scored heavily against him."  The article said she recently "learned that he was depositing $30,000 a year in trust for her son."  She sued again and won.  Eugenie successfully ruined her former husband.  Two years later, on October 21, 1904, The New York Sun reported that Alfred N. Benjamin had filed for bankruptcy.

In the meantime, Eugenie left 316 West 91st Street in September 1902.  Everything in the "Colonial Mansion," as described by the auctioneer--the paintings, the made-to-order china, the "massive silver chest, containing over 200 pieces of the designer's art sterling silver tea sets, &c.," bronze and marble sculptors, and such--was sold.

The Ward estate sold 316 West 91st Street in June 1906.  It was purchased by Dr. George La Breche Smith and his wife, the former Madeline O'Neill.  The couple had three children.

Born in Ottawa, Canada in 1865, Smith studied medicine at McGill and Lavelle Universities.  In 1893 he established his practice in New York City and was by now a noted eye, ear and nose specialist.  He was attached to the Polyclinic Medical School and Hospital of New York and was a visiting surgeon at St. Vincent's Hospital.

Early in 1908, Smith became "afflicted with stomach trouble of a serious nature," as described by The New York Sun.  He died in the house on June 13, 1908.  Interestingly, his funeral was not held in the residence, but, according to the New York Herald, "from Holy Trinity Church" on 82nd Street and Amsterdam Avenue.

Shortly afterward, Madeline Smith left 316 West 91st Street.  She first leased the mansion in October and continued to do so until selling it in March 1914 to General E. P. Meaney and his wife, Rosalie Behr.  The price was $40,000, or about $1.3 million today.  

Meaney was the general counsel for the New York Telephone Company.  The New York Times noted that he already owned the adjoining property, saying that he "will probably improve the site at some future date."  

Instead, the Meaneys leased the house to William Fox.  Born in January 1879 in Tolcsva, Zemplén, Hungary, Fox came to America in 1880 and married Eva Leo on December 31, 1899. They had two daughters, Caroline Leah and Isabella, known as Belle.

Fox had purchased a nickelodeon in 1904 and grew that business into a chain of motion picture theaters.  Two years after moving his family into 316 West 91st Street, he shocked old time society by converting the New York Academy of Music into a movie theater.  In 1914, he formed the Fox Film Corporation and began producing his own films.

The following year Fox hired what would be Fox Film's first major star--Theda Bara.  Her role in the 1915 A Fool There Was earned her the name "The Vamp" for audiences throughout the country.

On Christmas night 1916, Colonel Louis Annin Ames and his family, who lived a block away at 622 West End Avenue, went out for dinner.  When they returned, they saw a light inside.  Ames told his family to wait outside while he investigated.  Inside, he discovered a "short, heavily-built stranger with a candle in his hand," reported The New York Times.  The intruder dropped the candle and a "furious struggle" started in the dark.  At one point they wrestled to the top of the stairs and tumbled down.  The burglar ran down the stoop and disappeared.

Police arrived and "a passerby told them that he had seen a man hiding in the basement of 316 West Ninety-first Street," said The New York Times.  The Fox household was awakened to the sounds of a frenzied struggle.  Outnumbered, John Smoley was eventually overpowered and arrested.

In 1917, Fox signed another actor who would become a household name, Tom Mix.  The cowboy actor would star in Westerns for years.  By now, William Fox had amassed  a personal fortune estimated into the millions.

Fox was living at 316 West 91st Street when this photograph was taken in 1921.  Wid's Year Book 1921 (copyright expired)

On May 17, 1923, The New York Times reported, "The wedding of Miss Carolyn Leah Fox, daughter of William Fox, motion picture producer, to Douglas Nicholas Tauzig...will take place on Sunday, May 27 at the home of the bride, 316 West Ninety-first Street."  Tauzig was president of the Tauzig-Klingenstein Company.  Belle was her sister's maid of honor.  The next day, The Times reported, "A dinner for the families followed at the home of Mr. Fox."

The Fox family would have to leave 316 West 91st Street before long.  In 1927 it and the properties at the corner of Riverside Drive and two on the drive were demolished.  In 1928 a high-rise apartment building replaced the sites.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Julius Boekell's 1876 205 Chrystie Street

photograph by Anthony Bellov

 
Born in Germany, architect Julius Boekell built his career around the designing of tenement-and-store buildings.  On April 7, 1876, he filed plans for a "five-story brick store and tenement" at the southwest corner of Chrystie and Stanton Streets.  Its construction cost developer H. Riffel $15,000, or about $465,000 in 2026 terms.

Boekell tucked the residential entrance far to the rear, at 19 Stanton Street.  Overall Italianate in design, the building was faced in red brick above cast iron storefronts.  Typical of Boekell's work, stone quoins outlined the corners.  Striking cast metal lintels blended Italianate and neo-Grec styles--the former reflected in the gently arched molded cornices with their lacy cresting, and the latter in the incised decorations underneath.  The marriage of styles returned in the terminal cornice where the corbels began with geometric neo-Grec lines before sprouting foliate Italianate scrolls.

photograph by Anthony Bellov

H. Riffel (who lived next door at 17 Stanton Street) retained ownership of the building.  It held fifteen apartments and their occupants were, expectedly, working class.  

Riffel was faced with a terrifying incident in the summer of 1879.  On August 25, he rented rooms on the second floor to a woman named Rauch.  She told him that she had two children and, according to The Sun, she "was reticent as to where she came from, but implied that she had last lived in California."

The new tenant was also unforthcoming about her family.  The Sun said she moved in with "seven children, one of whom only reaching to adult age."  (In fact, the eldest was 15.)  One of the children, the next day, implied that they had actually just arrived from Memphis.  Not coincidentally, on August 28, The Evening Post reported that five new cases of yellow fever had been reported in Memphis, Tennessee.

The day after the family moved into 19 Stanton Street, Mrs. Rauch showed symptoms of yellow fever.  The Sun said, "other tenants noticed the pungent smell of what were evidently disinfectants."  A tenant who lived on the same floor, John Sullivan, notified officials.  On August 28, Dr. Taylor of the Board of Health, "hastened to the tenement house."  The Evening Post reported, "He was informed that [the family] had come from Chicago."  When Mrs. Rauch could not remember where they lived there, the eldest daughter said they lived on Noble Street, but could not remember the address.  Mrs. Rauch explained that she was simply suffering from "a cold contracted in traveling."  Satisfied that the rumors of yellow fever were "nothing but the loose talk of the other tenants," Dr. Taylor left.

Less confident was a reporter from The Evening Post, who checked the latest Chicago directory and found no Rauches on Noble Street.  He visited the Rauch rooms and when he spoke to Mrs. Rauch in German, she talked freely, conceding that they had come from Memphis.  And The Sun reported that they, "now admitted that all their clothes and bedding had been burned before starting" for New York.

The Evening Post opined that had Dr. Taylor known the details uncovered by the reporter he, "might have delayed his report or slightly altered its tone."  The newspaper concluded, "It may...be wise to watch these new comers."  Frustratingly, newspaper coverage ended with no follow-up on the Rauch family's fate.

photograph by Anthony Bellov

Julius Freeland lived here in the spring of 1894.  The 24-year-old broke into the house of attorney Thomas E Pearsall on the night of May 4, but he was unprepared for his encounter with a feisty servant.  Ellen Lyborn discovered Freeland on the second floor.  She sneaked up behind him and "caught him around the waist, held him fast and yelled at the top of her voice until help arrived," reported The Evening World.  Freeland "was handed over to the police of the Sixth avenue station," said the article.

On May 2, 1899, resident Samuel Bennett took a day trip to Coney Island.  His pleasant outing ended very badly, however.  The New York Journal and Advertiser said, "Sixty passengers on trolly car No. 855...had a thrilling experience during the storm last evening on the way from Coney Island to Manhattan."  The passengers of the "uncomfortably crowded" car would most likely have chosen a different adjective than "thrilling" to describe their ride.

The article reported that a bolt of lightning struck the trolley pole and "ran into the car.  There was a loud explosion, the fuses were burned out and the car appeared to have been set on fire in several places."  Every passenger received a "severe shock" and several were knocked to the floor.  "There was a wild scramble to get out of the car, and men knocked down and trampled upon women in the effort to reach the street."  Among those who were seriously hurt was Samuel Bennett, who suffered injuries to his chest and head.

Hard working residents living in tenement buildings almost always coexisted with criminals.  A Police Department report of "Suspected Gambling Houses" in January 1899 included the raid on a "poolroom" at 19 Stanton Street.  (Poolrooms were illegal gambling dens.)  The officers got more than they expected in this raid, however.  The report said, "One of those poolrooms is an opium joint, No. 19 Stanton street."

John Segallo lived here in 1904.  The New York Times described him as "an Italian, thirty years old."  The newspaper said he "says that he is a tailor, but the police...say he is 'connected with the Mafia.'"  Police were investigating Segallo as "having been connected with the famous barrel murder," according to The New York Times.  The "barrel murder" was the slaying of Italian immigrant Benedetto Madonia, whose slashed body was discovered stuffed in a sugar barrel on East 11th Street in the spring of 1903.  (The murder was later attributed to the Mafia gang headed by Ignazio Lupo and Giuseppe Morello.)

On June 21, 1904, The New York Times reported that Segallo "was shot twice...He was taken to the Hudson Street Hospital in a dying condition.  The article said, 

 

Through an Italian druggist, in whose place Segallo was treated, the wounded man said that he was taking a walk to get the salt air, and that he saw two Italians whom he did not know quarreling in the street.  One of them he said drew a revolver and fired two shots, both of which struck him in the abdomen.

The pharmacist's story was different from other witness accounts.  Detective McGee said that he "believed that there had been a fight between Segallo and other Italians over the division of spoils from a pocketbook taken from a newly arrived Italian immigrant."  Segallo died in the Hudson Hospital that evening.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Twenty-eight-year-old Antonio Fedele had much in common with John Segallo.  He was described by the New York Herald in 1912 as "an old member of the Lupo counterfeiting gang."  He lived here that year with his widowed mother and eight sisters.  According to the newspaper, Fedele's sisters "thought that their brother was a hard working contractor who made a good deal of money and treated them with unfailing kindness."

Fedele, indeed, made a great deal of money.  But his sisters certainly knew it did not come from working as a laborer.  He had already served two prison terms, one for counterfeiting and another for burglary.  On January 24, 1912, the New York Herald said, "His picture is in the rogues' gallery and he was arrested a few weeks ago in Passaic for trying to steal horses."

As it turned out, Fedele's involvement with the Lupo gang would not be the only thing that he and Segallo had in common.  On January 23, 1912, the New-York Tribune reported, "The body of the man found in a clump of trees in South Orange Township on Saturday morning with a stab wound in the abdomen and three shots in the head was identified tonight as that of Antonio Fedele, a Sicilian."  

Angelo Lagappato was a member of an Italian-American extortion group La Mano Nera, or the Black Hand.  The terrorist organization used violent and often deadly methods.  On April 11, 1913, the New-York Tribune reported on a massive explosion that occurred on the ground floor of a six-story tenement at 152 Mott Street.  People two blocks away were thrown to the pavement by the shock.  The article said, "The hundreds of Italians who live in the tenement above the store poured into the hallways and down the stairs, shouting and firing off their revolvers in the well known Italian style."

A few moments before the bomb went off, detectives arrested Angelo Lagappato and Gusto Corso for suspicious activity.  "Both prisoners were charged with having loaded revolvers in their possession," reported the New-York Tribune.

Construction of Chrystie Street subway connection was evidenced by barricades and decking in 1959.  Tenants used the fire escapes to dry laundry.  image via the Ne York Transit Museum

Several of the building's residents continued to be on the wrong side of the law over the coming years.  On August 5, 1959, for instance, Philip Stazzone was arrested with two others for running an illegal "policy operation," a sort of lottery that targeted low-income residents.  The New York Times reported that the trio was "doing a $50,000-a-day business."  (The amount would translate to about half a million in today's dollars.)

Changes in the neighborhood were reflected in the ground floor tenants.  Where Isey Wolowitz sold soda water in 1902, the 205 Club opened around 1995.  In its April 17 issue that year, New York Magazine described it as "a stylish, glass-fronted social club for hipsters."  

photograph by Anthony Bellov

In September 2012 Cocktail Bodega opened.  Richard Morgan of The New York Times said, "It is, plainly, a juice and smoothie place where you can get whiskey with your flaxseed."  It was a short-lived venture and by November 2013 Leave Rochelle Out of It occupied the space.  (The tongue-in-cheek name referred to a woman both owners had dated at different times.)  It was replaced by the new 205 Club.

many thanks to historian Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post

The 1877 Gerken Saloon Building - 385 Sixth Avenue

 

photograph by Carole Teller

Carsten Gerken purchased the vintage building at 77 Sixth Avenue on the northwest corner of Waverley Place from George Hillen on April 14, 1873 for $38,000.  (The address would be changed to 385 in 1925, and the second "e" in Waverley would be officially dropped around 1900.)  Four years later he hired architects D. & J. Jardine to design a replacement store-and-flat building on the site.

Brothers John and David Jardine produced a four-story structure in the neo-Grec style.  Above a rusticated stone base, the red brick facade was trimmed with brownstone.  Banded stone piers that ran up the corners supported the largest of the corbels of the pressed metal cornice.  The windows sat within prim stone architraves with prominent, bracketed cornices.  The residential entrance was placed to the rear, at 135 Waverly Place.  Facing the avenue was Carsten Gerken's saloon, and a second entrance on the side street accessed its back room.

Born in Germany in 1837, Gerken ran the saloon with his brother, Johannes (who Anglicized his name to John).  They had a brother who was not involved with the business.  (The Sun said, "The brothers were sedate, rather corpulent Germans and looked enough alike to be triplets.")

Carsten and his wife, Ella, lived upstairs with one Irish servant.  Several of their initial tenants in the building were from the theater community.  Among them in 1879 were actor William Gray; Anthony J. Cannon, whose stage name was Tony Hart; and John E. Cannon, treasurer of the Theatre Comique at 514 Broadway.  (Tony Hart was half of the popular comedy team of Harrigan & Hart.  Perhaps not coincidentally, at the time they were appearing at the Theatre Comique.) 

Unlike other saloon owners throughout the city, the Gerken brothers ran their business with strict Victorian propriety and within the letter of the law.  No females were permitted into the back room and, according to The Sun, a sign in the vestibule of the rear door admonished that "no goods were sold to women to be drunk on the premises."   The newspaper added:

As a matter of fact only such women as were known to the Gerkens as respectable residents of the neighborhood could get their "growlers" filled while they waited in that little vestibule.  The sending of a child or even of a full-grown girl of doubtful discretion to the side door on a growler-filling errand was greeted with a stern rebuke from one of the brothers, and an intimation that if the family could not send better messengers for its dinner supply of beer it had better seek some other source than Gerken's.

(A "growler" was a tin bucket or pitcher used to transport beer from a saloon to one's home or work site.)

According to the newspaper, Gerken's saloon was, as well, "something of an employment agency."  If a neighbor needed help in moving a piece of heavy furniture or other such errand, he went to Gerken's.  The bootblack would be sent to a lodging house or tenement to find someone down on his luck who needed the money.  The Sun said, "That man could not get a drink in Gerken's, because they would not take the money of such a man across their bar, but they were always ready to show their good will by finding work for him."

Amazingly, the Gerken brothers would not serve alcoholics, or "drunkards," as they were called.  Once a wife appeared "with tears in her eyes asking for him," a patron was cut off forever.  "He might sit in the back room and read the newspapers or discuss affairs of State if he pleased, but if he asked for beer or whiskey he was treated as if he had put a deadly insult on the proprietors."

German saloon proprietors often operated a bier garten in the rear in the summer months.  The Gerken brothers had no backyard, so they improvised.  The Sun recalled later:

Then all the chairs in the backroom and pretty much all those in the apartments above were moved down to the sidewalk under the tree by the side door on Waverley place.  From sundown until 1 o'clock the brothers sat out there with the substantial folk of the neighborhood sipping beer and Rhine wine at the rate of about one drink an hour and getting far more out of life than do the members of some of the finest clubs.

There was never scandal surrounding the Gersten saloon, no raids on Sundays (because it was never opened after midnight on Saturday), no gambling and no unescorted or questionable women.

By the turn of the century, according to The Evening World, "The Gerkins [sic] had amassed a fortune in the liquor business and had invested most of their profits in real estate." 

February 1902 was a devastating time for the extended Gersten family.  Around February 7, the third brother was committed to a sanitarium.  The following week, on the morning of February 13, Carsten left home telling Ella he had to attend business downtown.  She said later that he "seemed in a cheerful mood."  That evening his body was found floating off Bedloe's Island.  John Gerken identified his body at the morgue.  While Ella said that his fall from the Staten Island Ferry had to have been an accident, the police called his death a suicide. 

The very next day, John Gerken "fell dead on a Second avenue car," as reported by The Sun.  The newspaper said that the shock of his brother's death "is believed to have indirectly led to John's death."  On February 14, 1902, The Evening World reported, "The bodies of the brothers now lay side by side" in a Bleecker Street funeral home.  Two days later, The Sun remarked that the third brother, "probably does not know to-day of the ends of the lives of John and Carsten."

Ella Gerken leased the saloon to Charles Neubaur.  Its sterling reputation was quickly tarnished.  On August 18, 1905, The New York Evening Post reported that a "crowd of roughs, supposed to be members of the notorious 'Paul Kelly Gang,'" had been ousted from the bar.  They returned later that night and a "free-for-all fight followed."  Policeman Francis J. Upton arrived just as the "roughs" were being put out again.  One of the gang turned his fury to the officer.  He struck Upton several times with a "brass knob."  After what The New York Evening Post described as "a hard fight," Upton subdued the tough, "using his night stick freely in doing so."

Apparently Upton's free use of his baton was severe.  The newspaper said, "The prisoner was not able to appear in court this morning."  His confederates were not happy.  Officer Upton showed Magistrate Whitman a letter he had received that morning from the Paul Kelly Gang that said, "We will lay for you."

In March 1908, Ella Gerken sold the building.  The New-York Tribune remarked, "The corner store has been occupied as a saloon for the last thirty-five years."

In 1924, during the first years of Prohibition, the Ellen A. O'Reilly estate sold the property to Sadie Goldman.  The former saloon space was transformed into a penny arcade.

On August 13, 1926, The New York Times began an article saying, "Death, injury, fire, flood and general transportation and radio paralysis were caused by a rapid succession of thunderstorms and rainstorms which swept over the metropolitan district yesterday afternoon."  Among the many incidents, said the article, was a lighting bolt that "struck in a penny arcade at 385 Sixth Avenue and caused so much excitement that some one turned in a fire alarm.  No damage was caused."

By 1935, the ground floor was home to a James Butler Grocery store.  (The James Butler Grocery Company was the second-largest grocery chain in New York.)  It was replaced by a restaurant as early as 1937.

In 1937, the facade was painted and a restaurant occupied the store space.  The Sixth Avenue elevated was in the process of being demolished.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

Following the repeal of Prohibition, the space returned to selling alcohol as the Waverly Liquor Shoppe.  On the evening of April 16, 1954, the eve of Passover, Sophie Brady dropped in "to buy some wine for the holidays."  Her timing could not have been worse and she interrupted an armed robbery.  

The gunman demanded Sophie's purse, but the feisty 60-year-old fought back.  The New York Times reported, "She screamed and clung to her bag, and during the struggle the pistol was fired."  Sophie Brady was hit in the arm and she suffered a head injury in the fight.  In the meantime, the manager, Victor Cocozziello, had been forced onto the floor behind the counter.  The gunman escaped with $15 from Cocozziello's wallet and $100 from the register.  Sophie was treated at St. Vincent's Hospital.  She had saved her purse, but never got her holiday wine.

The Waverly Liquor Shoppe remained at least through the late 1970s, replaced by the Waverly Restaurant, a fixture on the Greenwich Village corner for years.

many thanks to artist Carole Teller for suggesting this post

The Langston Hughes House - 20 East 127th Street

 

photograph by Americasroof

Four years after the end of the Civil War, pioneering developers were beginning to transform Harlem from country estates and farms to an attractive suburb.  Two of them, James Meagher and Thomas Hanson, erected two 20-foot-wide, three-story homes on East 127th Street between Madison and Fifth Avenues in 1869.  Designed by Alexander Wilson, their Italianate design was handsome, but unexceptional.  Throughout the city, similar rows of nearly identical homes were being constructed, their monotonous appearance sometimes befuddling inebriated homeowners who could not find their own house.

Like its neighbor, 20 East 127th Street was clad in brownstone.  A high stone stoop rose to the double-doored entrance below an arched pediment supported by elaborately carved corbels.  The segmentally arched openings sat within molded architraves and a bracketed pressed metal cornice crowned the design.

The house became home to the Walter C. Palmer, Jr. family.  A printer, publisher, author and bookseller, he and his wife, Mary G., had at least one child, Mamie, born in 1867.

Palmer's business focused on religious topics.  Several of the works he published were related to the American Holiness Movement, co-founded by his mother, evangelist and author Phoebe Palmer.  (The movement stressed the doctrine of John Wesley, called "Christian perfection.")  He not only published Phoebe Palmer's works, but in 1869-70 he co-edited The Guide to Holiness Magazine with her.

In 1874, Mamie Palmer contracted scarlet fever.  The seven-year-old died on March 25 and her funeral was held in the parlor two days later.

The Palmers left West 127th Street by 1876 and No. 20 became home to Alexander Gaw and his unmarried daughter, Louisa.  Gaw's wife, the former Elizabeth Campbell, had died at the age of 65 on November 9, 1874.  Alexander Gaw was in the paint business and was, additionally, a trustee of the West Side Savings Bank.  

The parlor was the scene of another funeral in 1880.  Louisa Gaw died on October 18 and her funeral held here on the 21st.

In May 1886, an advertisement offered 20 East 127th Street for rent.  It described it as a "Three story brown stone House, good order, to let; nine hundred dollars."  The figure would translate to about $31,800 per year today.

The house was leased by E. Jeanrenaud, who converted it to The Harlem Collegiate School.  The private boys' school accommodated 30 students including six "boarding pupils."

The Nation, September 1, 1887 (copyright expired)

The venture was short lived and on September 14, 1889, an advertisement in the New-York Tribune announced the opening of the Mount Morris School, headed by Frank Clifford Lyman and George B. Towle.  The ad said in part:

In the resolve to have a school of telling merit, the principals rely on the highest standards, enthusiastic interest, liberal recitation methods and advanced methods.  The start in Classics a specialty.

Frank Clifford Lyman and his family occupied space on the upper floors.  The ad said, "A school home of rare advantages is offered to a very few boys in the principals' household."  Only three boys were accepted as boarding students.

Frank Clifford Lyman would continue to operate The Mount Morris School in the house into the mid-1890s.  It became home to the Nussbaum family at the turn of the century, and to Dr. John Staunton Blackmar by 1906.

Born in Connecticut in 1874, Blackmar graduated from the College of Physicians and Surgeons in 1898 and served in the Spanish-American War as a first lieutenant and Assistant Surgeon in the Third Connecticut Voluntary Infantry

Dr. John S. Blackmar in his military uniform.  (original source unknown)

He became associated with Harlem Hospital in June 1900 and by the time he moved into 20 East 127th Street was doing clinical work in the Harlem Hospital Dispensary.  It was likely his marriage to Mildred Martin in 1910 that ended his residency here.

Edward Goldschmidt, who owned 20 East 127th Street, continued to lease the house.  From 1910 to 1914 it was home to Reverend Edward H. Cleveland of the New York Protestant Episcopal City Mission Society.  The American Church Almanac and Year Book said he was "Missionary to Riverside Hospital, North Brother's Island, and Branch Workhouse, Riker's Island."

A major change came when Edward Goldschmidt leased the house to Henry Riddle in August 1914.  He rented rooms in the upper portion and installed "the Funeral Parlors of Henry Riddle" in the lower floors.  Riddle operated the funeral home and chapel through the spring of 1920, when the Goldschmidt estate sold the house.

No. 20 East 127th Street saw a flurry of residents over the subsequent two decades.  Then in 1947, musician William Emerson Harper, his wife, the former Ethel "Toy" Dudley Brown, and poet Langston Hughes co-purchased the house for $12,500 (about $180,000 today).

Trumpeter W. Emerson Harper was known as much for his labor activism as for his music.  He routinely contributed articles to periodicals regarding the financial struggles of musicians.  

He and Ethel, a costume designer and seamstress, had become close friends of Langston Hughes in the 1930s.  At the time, Hughes was emerging as a significant writer and poet.  His first novel, Not Without Laughter, published in 1930, earned him the Harmon Gold Medal for literature.  His close relationship with the Harpers was evidenced by his dedicating his 1940 autobiography, The Big Sea, to them.

Langston Hughes in 1942.  photograph by Cal Varn Vechten from the collection of the Yale University Library.

Hughes occupied the upper portion of the house.  Among the works he produced here were Shakespeare in Harlem in 1942; Montage of a Dream Deferred, published in 1951; a series of humorous books about character Jess B. Simple written from 1950 through 1965; and works about Black culture, like the 1952 The First Book of Negroes; the 1954 Famous American Negroes; and The Book of Negro Folklore, published in 1958.

Langston Hughes entered the Polyclinic Hospital for prostate surgery in the spring of 1967.  The operation was "apparently successful," according to the New York Amsterdam News, but complications developed.  He died on May 22 at the age of 66.  In reporting his death, newspapers nationwide lauded his work.  The San Francisco Chronicle, for instance, wrote:

A versatile and prolific writer, Hughes was equally fluent in the lyric voice of the poet, sharp-humored posturing and rhythms that echoed folk music and jazz, and the plaint of Simple, the Harlem philosopher who was his best known creation.

The Harpers remained in the house, transferring the title to their son, James Emerson Harper in 1980.  He sold it to Dr. Beverly Prince, an ear, nose and throat surgeon at Harlem Hospital, and her husband, Les Rolfe, five years later.

An automobile sits in front of the stoop of 20 East 127th Street in 1940.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

By the 2000s, the vintage brownstone house was showing significant deterioration.  In 2019, Brett Leggs, executive director of the African American Cultural Heritage Action Fund of the National Trust of Historic Preservation, first visited the house.  Seven years, later, on March 19, 2026, The New York Times reported that Dr. Beverly C. Price and the National Trust "are undertaking a meticulous restoration of its timeworn exterior."

(In the meantime, the I, Too Arts Collection had occupied the top three floors from 2016 to 2019.  The group offered to buy the house, but, "Dr. Prince did not want to sell," said The New York Times.)

The ivy that covered the facade in this photograph damaged the surface of the brownstone.  photograph via 6sqft.com

The Times article explained that the restoration is also addressing the cast iron fencing and stoop railings, the brownstone (damaged from decades of clinging ivy), and roof repairs.

The Much Altered John Perrine House - 332 Bowery

photograph by Anthony Bellov

 
In May 1817, James Van Zandt advertised for sale two mares and a "gig, with a leather top and a good set of harnesses."  He directed potential buyers to see him at 332 Bowery-road.  Van Zandt was most likely a long-term resident in the district, because Bowery Road had been officially renamed The Bowery four years earlier.

James Van Zandt possibly leased the property.  It was owned by David S. Jones in 1824 when the latter sold it to John Perrine.  It appears that Perrine simultaneously purchased the lot next door at 330 Bowery.  Within three years, Perrine had erected a three-and-a-half story, Federal style house and shop at 332 Bowery.  Its peaked roof would have been pierced with one or two dormers.

The Perrine family originally moved into 330 Bowery and leased No. 332.  In 1830 the Thompson family occupied the upper portion while Samuel Clark, a trunk maker, was in the shop.

John Perrine moved his family into 332 Bowery as early as 1836.  He operated his butcher shop in the ground floor space, while his two sons, George E. and Robert P., ran a brokerage business at 129 Bowery.  The brothers' venture ended by 1845.  That year George was working in his father's butcher shop and Robert had moved to Brooklyn.

In 1848, William H. Ho0ple purchased the property.  He leased the commercial space to R. Cook & Son for its umbrella store, and the upper portion to Sarah Shumway, who operated a boarding house.  Murville Shumway, possibly a brother, also lived here.  Sarah's initial tenants were William H. and Joseph W. Cook, proprietors of the umbrella shop; and Charles S. and Elizabeth A. Burrell.  Charles was a carpenter and Elizabeth made bonnets.

The shop of R. Cook & Son was supplanted in 1853 by the Wright & Bailey carpet store.  The fact that the location was still far north of the established shopping district was reflected in a slightly ungrammatical Wright & Bailey advertisement in April that year.

Up-Town vs. Down-Town--Two great dissideratums [sic] in the purchase of any article is Price and Quality, and those in pursuit of Carpeting will find no place where they will be better pleased with both than at Wright & Bailey's, No. 332 Bowery, near Bond-st.  Their stock is varied and excellent, and from their low rents they are enabled to deal more liberal with their customers than down-town establishments.

The shop changed hands again in 1857.  Michael A. Egan moved his dry goods store, The Linen Hall, in that year and quickly faced problems.  On June 2, the New-York Tribune reported that a fire in Egan & Co. had started at 9:30 the previous night, "a consequence of some light goods in the show-window coming in contact with a lighted gas-burner."  The article mentioned, "The building, owned by W. H. Hoople, was damaged to the amount of $100."  

Three days later, Egan advertised what today would be called a fire sale.  The title read, "Great Sale of wet goods--$67,000 worth of dry goods damaged by fire, selling at The Linen Hall, No. 332 Bowery."  One wonders if Egan was exaggerating in his ad.  The figure he cited would translate to $2.5 million in 2026.  

Not long after moving into 332 Bowery, Michael A. Egan realized that someone was systematically stealing his inventory.  At one point, he confided about the thefts to Thomas R. Finley, a trusted clerk who had been with him for about a year.  The New York Times said on October 3, 1857 that Egan "consulted with him on the best plan for detecting the culprit."  Finley fingered a clerk and the porter and the two were fired.  But the shrinkage continued.  The New York Times said, "at length suspicion fell on Finley."

Police arrested Finley in the shop on October 2.  "When arrested Finley had concealed in his pockets and about his person several articles, valued at $15," said The New York Times.  When police searched his rooms on Allen Street, they discovered, "$2,000 worth of crape shawls, embroideries, laces, silks, linens and other costly goods."  Finley was charged with sealing $2,915 in goods from his employer--about $111,000 today.

Around 1859, Hoople enlarged the building.  He raised the attic to a full fourth floor and added an extension to the rear.  Modern, Italianate-style cast metal lintels were placed over the openings and a corbeled cornice installed.  Most likely, an up-to-date cast iron storefront was included in the renovations.

The cornice introduced a neo-Grec touch to the renovations.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

The store space became home to B. T. Hardy's, a dry goods emporium operated by Benjamin T. Hardy.  He, too, suffered thievery.  On June 7, 1861, The New York Times began an article saying, "Yesterday morning, Mr. B. F. [sic] Hardy, dry goods dealer, at No. 332 Bowery, discovered that his store had been broken into on Wednesday night and robbed of $2,000 worth of silks and laces."

While modern day detectives resort to forensics like fingerprints and surveillance cameras, mid-19th century investigators relied greatly on instinct.  The article said, "From the manner in which the burglary had been effected, the Detectives felt confident that the delinquents were David Bartlett and John Watson, both noted rogues."  Officers Farley and Eustace barged into the rooms occupied by the the pair in a Thompson Street boarding house.  They discovered Bartlett and Watson with another man, John Williams, "engaged in overhauling, assorting and preparing for sale...the entire proceeds of the burglary."

The New-York Dispatch, December 17, 1865 (copyright expired)

In the meantime, Sarah Shumway's tenants continued to be working class.  Living here at the time of the burglary were Hugh Graham and Theron Rykert, both carpenters.  Both would remain through 1863.

On January 22, 1869, Murville Shumway died in the house at the age of 67.  His funeral was held here two days later.  Sarah Shumway continued to lease the upper portion of the building until about 1870.  

William Hoople next leased the building to German-born Henry N. Markert.  He and his family lived upstairs and Henry's bakery occupied the ground floor.  (In 1876, Markert changed the description of his business from baker to "candy.")  Living with the Markerts were four servants and a boarder Julius Willing, who was a clerk.  Willing would live here from 1870 through 1880.  A second boarder, Charles W. See (sometimes spelled Sy) moved in around 1876.  Like Willing, he was a clerk and would remain through 1880.

By the late 1880s, The Bowery had changed.  German beer gardens and music halls lined the thoroughfare and "bawdy houses" were crammed with “degraded women” and drunkards.  The ground floor of 332 Bowery became Charles T. Krauss's saloon around 1888.  By then, the third and fourth floors had been converted to Krauss's "office."  His application for the renewal of the excise (i.e., liquor) license on March 11, 1890 described:

The premises No. 332 Bowery, now occupied as offices, excepting the second floor of the building, at a yearly rent of $720 and on the same conditions as the present lease; Mr. Charles T. Krauss, lessor.

The annual rent would translate to about $2,000 per month today.

The saloon changed hands rather rapidly.  In 1896, Joseph A. and S. W. Weiss operated it as a "concert garden," called The Auditorium.  The partners touted their operation as "high class vaudeville."

New York Journal, November 24, 1896 (copyright expired)

Although the ads described The Auditorium as being family friendly, reformers and police were not so sure.  On December 15, 1896, The New York Times reported that Ignatz Leppel, Henry Montberger and Samuel Margules had been arrested for the unlicensed sale of cigars and soda.  "They are waiters employed by Joseph A. Weiss, who keeps a concert garden at 332 Bowery."

Another waiter, Sam Aronson, was arrested for a much more serious offense the following year.  He and a confederate, Joseph Winthall, attempted to blackmail wealthy stockbroker S. Duncan Leverich, whose wife had recently died.  They sent a letter on April 14, 1897 that intimated that Leverich had murdered his wife.  It said that the sender had evidence that Mrs. Leverich had died "by foul play."  It demanded cash for the information and was signed, "From your friend, D. Corrock, No. 332 Bowery, saloon, city."

After the third letter arrived, Leverich went to police.  He was given marked bills and Leverich met with Aronson and his comrade.  The two were quickly arrested.

If The Auditorium was, indeed, family friendly, that would change in August 1897 when John H. McGurk purchased the building.  The Irish-born saloonkeeper ran the notorious McGurk's Saloon at 295 Bowery, also known as Suicide Hall.  He paid the equivalent of $1.2 million in todays money for 332 Bowery.  

After being repeatedly arrested, John McGurk jumped bail in 1902 and fled to California with his wife and daughter, reportedly taking along half a million in cash.  Two years earlier, he had sold 332 Bowery to Michael J. Adrian for $28,000.  The two men could not possibly have been more different.  In reporting the transaction, the Record & Guide said on June 2, 1900, "Mr. Adrian is president of the German Exchange Bank, but buys [the property] for his own account.  The building will undergo extensive alterations."

The German Exchange Bank sat next door, at 330 Bowery (aka 54 Bond Street).  Adrian's restoring the saloon space to a respectable business would be beneficial to his bank's reputation and certainly would make his female customers more comfortable in doing business in the bank.  Within weeks of the purchase, Adrian hired architects J. Bockell & Son to renovate 332 Bowery with a new storefront.  The building became home to three makers of "caps and cloth hats"--S. Kraviz & Son, Einhorn & Waldman, and H. Meyerowitz.

In 1941, George M. Adrian, presumably Michael J. Adrian's son, was listed as the owner of 332 Bowery.  The family continued to possess the property until 1963, when it was sold to Seymour Finkelstein.

A glass store occupied the ground floor in 1940.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Steve's Deli occupied the ground floor in the mid-1980s.  By the turn of the century, the ever-changing Bowery saw the rise of modern apartment and store buildings.  The environment was reflected in the opening of Thai restaurant Godunk in 2025, described by The New York Times food critic Florence Fabricant on December 2 that year, "a room done in beige tile and burgundy leather."

Cast iron piers survive on the sides of the much-altered storefront.  The brick above has been painted, but overall the upper floors look much as they did around 1859 when William Hoople made his significant renovations.

many thanks to historian Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post