Albert Wagner's 1896 37 East 12th Street

 

In 1895, the old building at 37 East 12th Street underwent a flurry of sales.  Emil Bloch purchased it from John W. Condit "for a sum less than $150,000," according to the Real Estate Record & Guide.  Shortly afterward, on October 11, he resold it to Jacob Hirsh, "for improvement."  And a month later, Hirsh sold the property to architect and builder Albert Wagner.  On November 30 the Record & Guide reported that Wagner "will improve the plot by erecting an eight or nine-story modern business structure."

Wagner was already responsible for many mercantile and loft buildings throughout the city.  For this eight-story structure, he turned to the Italian Renaissance for inspiration.  The two-story base was clad in cast iron and encrusted with intricate arabesques.  

Wagner used terra cotta to lavishly embellish the upper floors.  The three-story mid-section featured a centered, full-height, engaged Ionic column.  A complex band framed this area, which was flanked by two pairs of three-story, barley twisted colonettes.  The dramatic treatment of the top three floors included shell-carved pediments supported by Corinthian columns at the sixth floor, and an arcade of deep-set windows at the eighth.

The building was completed by December 1896 and it filled with garment manufacturers.  Among the first was Henry Cohen & Co., makers of ladies' silk waists, or shirtwaists.

In March 1902 Fromberg & Goldstein moved in, doing business as the newly-formed Fashion Cloak and Suit Company.  It was not long before the fledgling firm was in trouble.   In September Siegel Brothers had not been paid for 13 pieces of cloth, valued at $233 and filed a complaint.  But, according to The New York Times on September 12, when Assistant Deputy Mayforth went to the factory, he "found it closed, and was informed that it had been cleaned out on Saturday last."

The firm's creditors did not wait for authorities to find the missing owners.  The Fur Trade Review reported, "On September 18 a petition in involuntary bankruptcy was filed against the concern."

In the meantime, other apparel firms fared much better.  Operating from the building at the time was Edelman Bros., makers of "misses' and children's cloaks and suits."  In its January 1904 issue, Cloaks and Furs remarked, "Every season they turn out many new and exclusive styles for the young folks which make 'hits.'"

Cloaks & Furs, January 1904 (copyright expired)

Other apparel-related tenants were cloak manufacturer Moses Natelson; Horwitz & Goodman; A. Lehman & Co., makers of tailored suits; and La Mode Skirt Co.  

A. Lehman & Co. catered to the carriage trade.  An advertisement on September 9, 1908 touted its "Exceptionally attractive Designs made in the latest Fall models.  Critically correct to your measure."  The prices ranged from $15 to $35--the more expensive equal to about $1,000 today.

During the 1910's the building was home to D. Kaplan, makers of shirtwaists.  The firm employed two men and 26 women.  Other tenants were Nelson and Ladin, another shirtwaist manufacturer; A. Ratkowsky, "medium-priced furs;" and Kurshan Bros., importers of "venetians" (worsted fabrics used in suits, coats and dresses).  

The Depression years saw a change in the tenant list.  While at least one garment firm, Benjamin Margolis, maker of pajamas and blouses, moved in in 1931, a variety of industries were now represented.  That same year the Crown Footstool Corporation leased a floor.  They were joined by the Joy Packaging Co., Inc., which sold and distributed candy.

Most notable, however, was the Communist-based The Workers School Forum, which leased space on the second floor by 1932.  

from the Daily Workers, October 8, 1932

A tenant with a similar political bent, the newspaper L'Unita Oberaia, set up its operation here in 1935.   The two-year old publication was run, according to The Daily Worker on February 7, by "revolutionary Italian workers."  The article explained...

this Italian language newspaper has conducted the most relentless struggle against the penetration of Italian fascist propaganda and against the persecution of Italian workers in this country by the agents of Mussolini.  It has been the best guide of the Italian workers in all their daily struggles against the attacks of capitalism upon their standard of living and against the deportation weapon of the bosses.

The newspaper did not go unnoticed by the Federal Government.  The Massachusetts House Committee on Un-American Activities report of 1938 described it as "An Italian monthly which the Communist Party admits is under Communist influence."

Other tenants were decidedly less political, like the Clyde Furniture Co., here at the same time.  After mid-century the Acme Bulletin & Directory Board Corp. leased space in the building.

But the last quarter of the century saw significant change in the district, and around 1975 the Kenshire Galleries moved in.  In its December 7, 1987 issue, New York Magazine mentioned that "Nineteenth-century Italian gilt armchairs, $6,000 a pair, and an antique French Aubusson fire screen, $2,200," were available here.  The upscale store remained until around 2015.

In February 2015, The New York Times journalist Vivlian Marino reported on Edward J. Minskoff's upcoming conversion of 37 East 12th Street to residential space.  The president and founder of Edward J. Minskoff Equities, he announced that there would be just six units, pointing out "the room sizes are big and the ceiling heights range from 13 to 16 feet."

The renovation, which was completed in 2016, resulted in one apartment per floor from the second through sixth, and a four-bedroom duplex on the top two floors.  A three-bedroom, two-story maisonette (called The Townhouse by realtors) has a private entrance on the ground floor.

Albert Wagner's striking facade remains unchanged and is worth a pause to adequately appreciate.

photographs by the author

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Albert Wagner's 134-136 Spring Street

In October 1894 architect and developer Albert Wagner purchased the "old buildings" at Nos. 134 and 136 Spring Street, and at Nos. 84 through 88 Wooster Street.  The properties, which formed an L, cost Wagner nearly $200,000; and the Real Estate Record & Guide predicted he "will improve the property at an early date by the erection of a seven or ten-story semi-fire-proof business structure."

Wagner wasted little time in designing his new loft and store building.  Plans were filed on January 19, 1895 with projected construction costs at $150,000--nearly $4.4 million today.  His aggressive Renaissance Revival design included massive two-story piers of chunky rough-cut stone at street level.  Above the second story, two vast four story arches were framed zipper-like by terra cotta blocks decorated with oak leaves.  Wagner's additional use of terra cotta included full relief rosettes, spandrel panels of wreaths and ribbons, and three massive immense growling lion heads below the sixth floor cornice.  A deeply overhanging cornice supported by ambitious brackets rose above the top floor arcade.

Oak leaves fill the terra cotta quoins.  The brackets of the overhanging cornice, restored in the late 20th century, are especially interesting.

The Wooster Street elevation was slightly less grand, with alternating brick and stone layers replacing the hefty base piers, and with the terra cotta embellishments pulled back to rosettes tracing the fifth and sixth floor openings, smaller versions of the lions' heads serving as brackets, and decorative cast iron masonry supports adding interest to the piers at the third floor.

Even as the building was being constructed tenants began lining up.  On June 14 Franklin & Mirsky leased the third, fourth and seventh floors at an annual rental of $10,000 (about $24,250 per month today).   The firm, which had been operating from nearby on Greene Street, manufactured wrappers and tea gowns--the ornate dressing gowns made to be worn over petticoats.  Tailor to fit like a dress, women arising in the morning might even wear them to the breakfast table without risking her respectability.

Decades earlier, in the 1850s, Godey's Magazine depicted a women in her wrapper (left).  Franklin & Mirsky's models would have been much less voluminous.  (copyright expired)

Within the week B. Doulton took the second floor and B. Steinberg & Co. rented the fifth and sixth.  That firm made ladies underwear.  The New York Times remarked "The building is now being erected by Albert Wagner, and is thoroughly rented months in advance of its completion."

By the time the building was completed on May 27, 1896 Wagner had sold it.   Its three tenants all manufactured apparel.   Franklin & Mirsky employed 15 men, 17 women and 8 girls under 21 years old.  The male and female workers most likely worked on separate floors.  The firm reported to the State that in 1896 its teen-aged employees worked a 60-hour work week.

It would not be long before Franklin & Mirsky felt the effects of the dawning laborer rights movement.  The Annual Report of the State's Mediation and Arbitration Board for 1899 noted "On February 10th, 15 garment cutters employed at the shop of Franklin & Mirsky, 134 Spring street, New York city, went on strike because of the discharge of one of their number for an infraction of the shop rules, which they considered too trivial to warrant the discharge."

The very concept of workers challenging the autocratic decisions of management would have been unthinkable a generation earlier.  Now the factory workers held sway.  "They remained out a week, when the matter was adjusted satisfactorily to all and they returned to work."

By the turn of the century M. L. Getten & Bros. was manufacturing its "Guarantee" brand skirts here.  The high-end "dress and walking skirts," sold at emporiums like Siegel-Cooper, retailed for up to $15 in 1905--more than $400 in today's dollars.  A description of a Voile Dress Skirt in January that year helped explain the high price.  "Silk lined and trimmed with tailor stitched taffeta and peau de soie strapping in new designs.  These skirts of taffeta silk drops finished with a dust ruffle."

Although also involved in the textile industry, William M. Poz was not involved in clothing.  Instead he focused on the rapidly emerging automobile industry.  Many of the vehicles required cloth roofs which could be folded down in good weather.  Poz acted as sales agent for fabrics designed specifically for that purpose.

In June 1908 the Automobile Trade Journal announced "Wm. M. Poz, 134-136 Spring street, New York, sole agent for the well-known 'Rubba-silk' is now offering a new fabric known as 'Lohengrin,' which is composed of all silk in the fabric, and is coated with the best Para gum.  It is a most serviceable fabric, and beings being rich in appearance as well as very strong and durable, it is also water repellent."

Vehicles like this 1907 touring car required water-proof fabrics like those offered by William Poz.  Automobile Trade Journal June 1908 (copyright expired)

Poz tantalized manufacturers by promising that in the Spring of 1909 he would be "getting out a new cloth, called the 'Cloth of Gold."  This fabric, he said, "is also silk [and] is water-proof and water repellent."

In the meantime, cloak makers Philip and Max Weinstein were also dealing with the labor problems.  A Weinstein Brothers employee, Harry Briskman, tried to unionize the factory in the spring of 1907; but one employee went to felonious lengths.

Thirteen factory workers were arrested and appeared before Magistrate Sweetser in Jefferson Market Court on March 28.  All but Philip Hanken were released "with warnings."  But Hanken had gone too far.  He was charged "with trying to cripple the firm's business by removing three clamps from machinery." He was held for trial on $1,000 bail.

The loft building that the Record & Guide had described as "semi-fire-proof" received a forward-thinking improvement in January 1909.  Two years before the devastating Triangle Shirtwaist fire that claimed the lives of 146 garment workers, the New-York Tribune reported that plans had been filed "for equipping the seven story loft building at Nos. 134 and 136 Spring street with an auxiliary fire extinguisher sprinkler plant."

The sprinklers no doubt eased concerns of workers; but conditions in apparel shops continued to border on intolerable.  On November 23 that year The Sun reported that a general strike of 40,000 shirtwaist makers had been ordered by the union.  Among the first to walk off the job were the 200 employees of Joseph Rosenberg & Co. in the Spring Street building.

By the spring of 1910 things had returned to normal in Joseph Rosenberg & Co.'s shirt factory.  But tragedy occurred on May 20 when 17-year old Charles Kessler was ordered to repair several leaky fire buckets.  The teen was apparently not well-versed in soldering.  In an attempt to thin the molten lead he poured water into the crucible.  The explosive reaction sent boiling water and searing lead into the boy's face.

The New-York Tribune reported he "was severely burned about the face and hands.  His screams of pain frightened the two hundred girls in the factory, and they made a rush for the street."

Two years later, on April 27, 1912, Gertrude Huberman was carrying cash, possibly payroll, belonging to Joseph Rosenberg & Co.  Near the corner of Broadway and 12th Street, she was attacked by Henry Kirschner.  The 23-year old attempted to wrest the package containing $319 from her.

Gertrude's white knight did not charge in on a stallion, but in a delivery truck.  James Clinton saw the assault, jumped from his truck and, according to The Sun, "gave him a beating."  Kirschner was arrested and Gertrude filed a complaint of assault and robbery.  The Sun reported that when he appeared before Magistrate Barlow "a pair of black eyes and a pleas of not guilty adorned [his] face."

Kirschner's alibi was that he was simply trying to be a gentleman when he saw Gertrude drop the package.  He told the judge that "he saw the young woman stooping down with the bag some distance away from her."  Just then, he said, Clinton "pounced upon him" and beat him up.

The judge not only did not believe the defense, he found it highly amusing.  "Magistrate Barlow after laughing at his story held Kirschner without bail for the Grand Jury."

Weinstein Brothers was still in the building at the time, now described by one journal as "one of the largest manufacturers of cloaks and suits."  That year it employed 150 men, 50 women, and four office staff.

In 1916 the building's owners, Germania Life Insurance Co., hired architects George and Henry Boehm to design renovations.  The updating included new stairs and, possibly, the electric elevator.

A new elevator operator was hired on August 14.  Veteran operator Joseph Rossi started training the young man, and soon he was doing well enough to try it himself.  But the novice pushed the lever "so hard that the cable flew off the drum."  The elevator began shooting "upward at express speed," according to The Evening World.

Rossi timed his escape and when the runaway car reached the fifth floor he leaped through the open doors.  Panicked, the new employee tried to follow; but the elapsed seconds proved fatal.  His body was caught between the car roof and the fifth floor.  The Evening World reported "His cries caused a panic among the 200 girls in a waist factory and they broke for the exits, thinking a fire had started."

A doctor arrived only minutes after the accident.  He found the man alive, but pinned between the elevator and the wall of the fifth floor.  There was no way to extricate him.  Two hours later firemen were called.  The World reported "Hook and Ladder Company No. 20 cut out a section of the wall to rescue him, but the victim, whose name could not be learned, was dead."  The young man had been employed only two hours before he died.

Apparel companies were still in the building in 1920.  That year the textile firm of Weinberg & Halperin was burglarized.  The New York Times reported on March 28 that the thieves "cut their way into the rooms of Weinberg & Walperin...They avoided burglar alarm wires and stole $9000 worth of silk."

But the garment district was already migrating north of 34th Street.  By mid century a new type of tenant had filled the building.  Advertising specialists Dan Newman Company took space in 1956; and wholesale paper dealers Elkins Company, Inc. was here in the early 1960s.

As the Soho district transformed to an arts center, the Spring Street building became home to the Persicol Gallery in 1980, and within a few years Downtown, dealers in vintage American furniture from the 1930s, operated from street level.  Later in the decade Jaap Rietman, a specialty bookstore devoted to art books, opened here.

Albert Wagner's elaborate sheet metal cornice had, by now, suffered severe deterioration.  At one point it had to be wrapped to prevent pieces from falling to the sidewalk below.  Architect Shael Shapiro was commissioned to restore the cornice and make other repairs which cost the owners about $750,000.

Today the lofts where hundreds of young women worked over sewing machines in nearly insufferable conditions have been converted to modern office space and upscale shops operate from street level.  Wagner's aggressive and handsome design, however, is little changed other than expected modernization like the replacement windows.

photographs by the author

The Jordan, Moriarity Building -- No. 157 East 23rd St.

Thaddeus Moriarty arrived in New York with his parents from his native Ireland in 1851 at the age of 8.  He left school when he was 15 and took a job as an office boy.  Within a year he was promoted to cashier and bookkeeper, and then to traveling salesman at just 16.  Although he had learned the dry goods trade, in 1863 the 25-year old partnered with James Jordan to form the furniture retailer Jordan, Moriarity & Co.

Thaddeus Moriarty in 1897 The Tammany Times, December 6, 1897 (copyright expired)

In 1897 The Tammany Times would say of him “The same qualities which had made him successful in the service of others brought him success in his own enterprises and his business steadily increased.”  The article noted “In `1889 Mr. Moriarty purchased three lots in East Twenty-third street, between Third and Lexington avenues.”

Twenty-third Street was the center of the retail furniture trade at the time.  Well-known manufacturers and dealers like George C. Flint Co. and Robert J. Horner lined the street with their impressive buildings and showrooms.   Now Jordan,  Moriarty & Co. joined the trend, and commissioned architect Albert Wagner to design what The Tammany Times would call “a magnificent 7-story building” and “one of the largest furniture establishments in Greater New York.”

Wagner filed the plans in September 1890.  The Engineering Record reported that the projected cost of the new building would be $100,000—in the neighborhood of $2.7 million in 2016.  Construction was completed nearly a year to the day later and on September 13, 1891 Jordan, Moriarity & Co. announced its grand opening would be held September 21^st through 23^rd.

The announcement said in part “We have erected…a new warehouse, built especially for the furniture and carpet trade.  As this is the only house ever designed and erected solely for that purpose in New York city, it is interesting to the sightseer.”  It added that the items offered there were “suitable for the spacious mansion or the modest home.”

In its opening advertisement, the firm noted "New Buildings, New Furniture."  The Evening World, November 23 1891 (copyright expired)

Albert Wagner had successfully married the Renaissance and Romanesque Revival styles into a brick, stone, and cast iron emporium.  The boxy proportions of the building were eliminated by three grand arches filled with cast iron-framed openings.  The Romanesque motif was carried out in the heavy cast iron masonry supports, rough-cut stone bands, and the handsome arcade at the top floor.  Renaissance Revival was introduced in the delicate carved panels, the upper frieze and the bracketed cornice.

As the firm had promised in the grand opening announcement, it offered both high- and low-end furniture.  In 1893 Jordan, Moriarty & Co. put its brass and enameled iron bedsteads on sale.  A “very neat white enameled and brass-trimmed” bed was being sold for $5, down from $12.  And a “massive white enameled and brass rod-top bedstead” could be had for $7.12.  The sale ad promised it was “worth at least $15.00.”  (The sale price for the lesser-expensive model would be equal to an affordable $136 today.)

Wicker rockers were available in 1911 for $1.99  The Evening World May 3, 1911 (copyright expired)

In 1913, exactly half a century after starting business, Jordan, Moriarty & Co. was in financial trouble.  In June that year a receivers’ sale was ordered by the United States District Court.   The auction continued for several days, until the entire seven floors of furniture was sold.  The auctioneer’s announcement said in part “This stock consists of High-Grade Furniture, Carpeting, Draperies, etc., and must be sold as speedily as possible, regardless of cost.”  Included, of course, was the fine Jordan, Moriarity & Co. Building.

The building sat vacant for months; and then on April 18, 1914 fire broke out on the fourth floor.  The Insurance Press reported that the flames “spread to roof” and put the damage to the building at $25,000.  The fire-damaged structure was offered at auction by the estate of Margaret Cockburn. 

The War Industries Board, formed on July 28, 1917, prohibited the application for new buildings or alterations.  And so the Jordan, Moriarity & Co. Building still sat vacant and charred when the union Trust Company finally sold it to the newly-formed 155 East Twenty-third Street Corporation in June 1918.  It was assessed by the city at just $170,000.

Happily, five months later the War Industries Board authorized the Mayor’s Committee on National Defense to “act on all applications for new buildings or alterations to buildings where the cost of the work ranged between $10,000 and $25,000,” as reported in The Sun on November 16.  The article noted that permission to alter the Jordan, Moriarity & Co. Building was given “for use of the Water’s Hospital Supply Company.”

The alterations were completed early in 1919 and Water’s Hospital Supply Company moved in.  The manufacturer was founded in 1898, making “everything for hospital and surgical work.”  When the renovated building opened the firm employed 93 men and 40 women throughout what was now a seven-story factory.  With proper Edwardian discretion, the women worked only on the second floor.  They were thus shielded from any unsavory language or behavior on the other, men-only, floors.

The Water’s Hospital Supply Co. remained in the building until 1952, although part of the ground floor space was given over to a new post office branch in 1936.  When Water’s Hospital Supply moved out, the ground floor retail space became home to Monarch House, Inc., a contemporary furniture store; while the upper floors housed Childcraft Equipment Company.

The upper floors were converted to apartments in 1976.  Perhaps the building’s most infamous resident was Joey Skaggs who lived here by 1981.  A painter and sculptor, Skaggs began earning notoriety in the 1960s with noticeable pranks such as attaching a 50-foot bra to the front of the U.S. Treasury Building on Wall Street in 1969.

While living in Suite 405 here in 1981 Skaggs took on the pseudonym Dr. Joseph Gregor and announced he had created Metamorphosis.  He purported that the “cockroach extract” would cure “arthritis, acne, menstrual cramps and enable people to survive high doses of radiation.”  The hoax, like his others, was intended as a non-malicious prank on the media and public.

Although the brick has been painting and the spandrel decorations filled over, the integrity of the upper story design mostly survives.

Albert Wagner’s storefront survived, rather amazingly, until 2000 when it was removed and replaced with what might be described as grievous.  His upper floors, however, survived embattled but greatly intact from the days when homeowners shopped for brass beds and oak dining tables.

photographs by the author

The Ludwig Baumann Bldg -- Nos. 260-266 West 36th St

The soaring structure was merely an annex to the block-long furniture store around the corner.

Ludwig Baumann arrived in New York City from Bohemia while still a very young man.  He got a job as a clerk in a grocery store; then established his own grocery store at 34^th Street and Third Avenue. 

1862 was a risky year to venture into an unknown endeavor.  The Civil War was only months old and the entire nation was in upheaval.  Nevertheless Baumann joined his brother, Albert, in the furniture business, creating Ludwig Baumann & Company.  Starting out in a small store, just 25 by 50 feet in area, the brothers managed to slowly prosper.

Around 1877 they made a dicey move.   Upscale furniture showrooms would establish themselves on 23^rd Street at the northern fringe of the retail district known as the Ladies’ Mile.  But, prompted by their newly-hired junior partner, David Froehlich, Ludwig Baumann & Company procured properties at Nos. 512 and 514 Eighth Avenue in the block between 35^th and 36^th Streets.  The new store was far to the north of the shopping district.

In the 20^th century the neighborhood would become home to Manhattan’s Garment Center.  But for now its streets were lined with brick or brownstone-fronted rowhouses.  The furniture dealer elbowed in among the houses, selling affordable furniture to middle-class families.

David Froehlich revolutionized furniture sales -- New-York Tribune, November 21, 1897 (copyright expired)

Froehlich was ambitious, aggressive, and a visionary.  The New-York Tribune would later call him “the leading spirit of the firm of Ludwig Baumann & Company.”  One-by-one the company absorbed the brownstone structures around it, within a decade, it had consumed the entire block front.  Froehlich’s ground-breaking business strategies were responsible for the extraordinary growth.

He devised the unheard of installment plan and instituted mail order for the firm.  On February 2, 1896, while the country was still reeling from the Financial Panic of 1893, the New-York Tribune remarked that the depression had little or no effect on Ludwig Baumann & Company.  “The credit for this uncommonly successful growth from small beginnings is largely due to the energy and keen business sense of David Froehlich, the junior member of the firm…With him originated the credit system upon which much of the firm’s business is done.  Under this system of payment in small installments many people furnish their homes comfortably and cosily, who without it would be unable to do so.”

The newspaper noted that many retail firms were laying off their staff.  But, “Ludwig Baumann & Co. has no such experience.  On the contrary, its sales show a marked increase, and instead of discharging numbers of salesmen, this large firm of household providers has been compelled to employ new ones.”

As a matter of fact, Ludwig Baumann & Company had, by now, turned the corner onto West 36^th Street and a year earlier, filed plans for a modern, eight-story annex at Nos. 260 to 266 West 35^th Street.  On November 23, 1895 the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide reported that architect Albert Wagner had designed the building, “Renaissance in treatment,” with a “Tiffany brick, iron and Indiana limestone front.”  The cost was projected at $175,000—a staggering $4.7 million by today’s measure.

Wagner included all the modern conveniences: two passenger and one freight elevator, steam heat, a pneumatic tube system, and “sanitary plumbing” that included “tiled toilet rooms.”  Because electricity was still only marginally reliable, plans called for “combination gas and electric light fixtures.”

As the building rose, Ludwig Baumann & Company offered the latest in Victorian furniture styles around the corner.  The New-York Tribune noted in February 1896, “Perhaps the most popular of the spring goods already arrived, however, are the cradles.  These are manufactured from various woods, are tastefully made in every particular, and are sold at the low price of 75 cents apiece.”

 By the time the annex on West 35^th Street was completed in November 1897 it had grown to 10 floors. In describing the “magnificent new structure” the New-York Tribune, on November 21, was less taken by the architecture than by the construction.  It mentioned the steel framing and steel beams supporting the floors; the waterproofed sub-basement that assured “a perfectly dry floor, excluding all dampness from the building; and the light and power plant in the basement that supplied electricity to not only the annex, but the entire row of buildings on Eighth Avenue.

An 1897 sketch showed the new building (far left) and the string of 8th Avenue structures that made up the mammoth store -- New-York Tribune, November 21, 1897 (copyright expired)

Wagner’s façade was, nevertheless, worth note.  His tripartite design included a two-story base with large show windows separated by piers of rough-cut blocks.  The Tribune noted “The show-windows are brilliantly illuminated by a multitude of incandescent lamps imbedded in the ceiling, producing a gorgeous effect.”  The four-story middle section was comprised of three sets of angled bays nestled within soaring arches; while the brick-faced uppermost section was more delicate.  Here three sets of narrow three-story arches were grouped in threes and separated by simple brick piers.

The cornice has sadly been lost, leaving a blank scar.

The grand opening was held on November 20, 1897.  “Suffice it to say that everything conceivable in the household furnishing line will be found on its floors,” promised the New-York Tribune.   The old conglomeration of buildings on the Eight Avenue side (which were connected in the rear to the new building) would not display “housefurnishings,” like crockery, glass and lamps.  The new building was outfitted with showrooms for furniture.

“On one floor will be found bedroom suits of all descriptions, newest designs and most perfect finish.  Another floor contains some of the most beautiful furnishings in the house.  Another floor is completely given over to hall furniture of all varieties, while on still another is arranged a bewildering array of odd and fancy chairs.  Other floors are devoted to beds, desks and similar varied attractions, to dainty furnishings of all kinds of beds, and to a vast number of other marvels of household furniture in style and manufacture.  The carpet department on the second floor is fully stocked with the finest makes upon the market.”

Only one floor of the 36^th Street structure was not filled with furniture.  “The firm’s private sanctum is on the eight floor of the new building,” remarked the newspaper.

A week after opening the new building, the firm advertised the vast array of items available  New-York Tribune, November 28, 1897 (copyright expired)  

Ludwig Baumann & Company’s now massive store continued to draw middle class customers.  In the year of the new building's opening the firm had 100,000 credit customers on file.  Five years later a newspaper article listed some of the items on display just in the new building, including “bedroom sets in the mission type, of Antwerp oak, camp chairs, villa suits, veranda chairs, enameled iron beds, mattresses, rockers and armchairs, with a full line of carpets, mattings, screens, shades, awnings, cots, swings hammock chairs and gas tubing.”

On February 20, 1904 Ludwig Baumann left the Eighth Avenue store around 4:00 and traveled to his home on Long Island.  “While sitting in a chair he was suddenly seized with what appeared to be a fainting spell, and died before anything could be done for him,” reported The New York Times the following day.

The building was sold at auction among Ludwig Baumann’s other properties on December 12, 1912.   It was purchased by Max Marx for $302,000.  Although it no longer owned its building, the furniture firm remained as a tenant.  By now it was run by brothers Sidney and C. Ludwig Baumann.

Ludwig Baumann & Company kept its employees happy in part by organizing The Google Club.  The social club’s members were all company associates and they met once a month in “Google Hall” in the 36^th Street building.  On Thursday, October 2, 1919 Furniture World reported on a recent event.

On September 23 the club had hosted a “dance and entertainment” here in honor of senior co-workers.  “From the appearance of the program sent us this must have been a real show night.  The guests of honor were twenty-two in number, and on the list of entertainers we read of the ‘world’s greatest ventriloquist’ (too modest to let his name appear) the ‘operatic mocking bird’ rendered by Mrs. James, special dancers and recitations, all of which must have made the evening a most eventful and never to be forgotten occasion.”

In 1922 Ludwig Baumann & Company began construction of a new building on Eighth Avenue.  The structure, which would replace the long row of converted buildings, included the entire block front except the 36^th Street corner.  As the building rose, another furniture manufacturer, Maurice Greenstein, leased Nos. 260-266 West 36^th Street from the Baumann firm.  His 21-year lease came at a yearly rental of about $37,000 and The New York Times reported on July 29, 1922 that “He will alter the structure for general business uses.”

By now New York’s Garment District was rapidly engulfing the area.  Nearly all of the old houses had been torn down and replaced with looming loft buildings.  While Greenstein was in the furniture business, his tenants were noticeably from the garment industry; like Skonick Goldberg which took a full floor in 1926.

The former Baumann Building continued to house garment firms throughout the 20^th century and into the 21^st.  On January 31, 2000 there were eight garment shops in the building, described by The New York Times as employing “mostly immigrant workers.”  Tragedy struck the building that day.

Around 10:15 a.m. fire broke out in the basement where firefighters later found rubbish and piles of cloth.  As the thick smoke rose throughout the building panic erupted.  Firefighters rushed to rescue trapped workers on the upper floors, including a group huddled on the roof.  One worker, 41-year old Benvenito Hernandez, tried to escape the 10^th floor just before 11:00 by tying one end of a bolt of red cloth to a windowsill then sliding down.  He lost his grip and fell to his death.

Two other victims were injured and taken to the hospital for treatment.   Employees of a leather manufacturer, H & R, were terrified when they rushed to a window to the fire escape, but, as reported by one woman, “it wasn’t there.”

On the 8^th floor a woman in a dress manufacturing shop tied a bolt of white silk around a column, then around her waist.  She then climbed out the window and slid down to the roof of an adjacent building two floors below and hurried down its fire escape.  Her co-workers, however, saw Hernandez plunge to his death and opted to stay where they were.

On a block of hulking loft buildings constructed for apparel firms, No. 260-266 West 36^th Street is the last vestige of the once-gargantuan Ludwig Baumann & Company furniture complex, now long forgotten.

photos taken by the author

The 1887 Nat'l Folding Box Co. -- No. 140 Franklin Street

photo by Alice Lum

The neighborhood of Franklin and Varick Streets had become decidedly industrial by 1886 when the National Folding Box and Paper Company decided to build its new headquarters building there. David S. Walton, Jr., was running the company that his father founded when he commissioned Albert Wagner to design an up-to-date, Romanesque Revival building similar to the first section of the Puck Building the architect had just completed.

Walton’s company manufactured folding boxes—a wildly popular space saving innovation—and wrapping paper. “Wrapping paper” in the 19th century had nothing to do with gaily printed birthday and holiday papers; but was the sturdy brown stuff that protected parcels.

Massive, decorative cast iron masonry supports grace the brick -- photo by Alice Lum

Wagner produced a goliath industrial building of tan brick with cast iron and terra cotta touches. Huge centered arches flanked by groupings of smaller two-story arches broke the heavy mass of the masonry structure.  At the corner, a tall clock tower rose several stories, flanked by decorative parapets.

Above the southwest corner, a tall clock tower originally stood -- photo by Alice Lum

The industrious Walton was not only President and Director of the National Folding Box and Paper Co.; he was also President and Director of the Virginia Manufacturing Co.; Treasurer and Director of the Merchants Safe Deposit Co.; Director of the Colonial Assurance Co., Essex County Trust Co., Merchants Trust Co., and Union Bag & Paper Co. of New Jersey.

The new building, which stretched from No. 132 to 140 Franklin Street, housed not only the factory and office space of Walton’s company, but brought in rental income as well. In 1891 J. S. Fry & Sons was here when the firm ran an unusual ad in St. Nicholas Magazine: “WANTED—A RECEIPT. Desire a receipt for making chocolate cake and offer to pay for the best and simplest formula. Send postal card for particulars as to requirements.” (We have to remember that sometime in the mid-20th century cooking “receipts” became known as “recipes.”)

Another tenant, Weiler Brothers, importers and wholesale grocers, was here at the turn of the century.

Decorative terra cotta frames the window arches -- photo by Alice Lum

By 1911 Walton had established a subsidiary company, D. S. Walton & Co. That year the firm introduced a ground-breaking and life-changing idea for households: the garbage bag. Good Housekeeping Magazine extolled the new product. “These are bags made of heavy manila paper reinforced at the bottom by folds of the paper itself. They are designed to be placed in an ordinary garbage receptacle and hold garbage which is properly drained, but by no means necessarily dry. They do not leak, nor soften and burst with ordinary use and provide a sanitary and conveniently clean method of handling garbage.”



In 1917 when D. S. Walton was producing paper garbage bags, the building still had its square corner tower and parapet -- advertisement Paper magazine, February 14, 1917 (copyright expired)

While World War I raged in Europe, the company thrived at home. In 1917 it announced that it had increased its capital “from $1 million to $2 million for expansion.” Four years later the company changed its name, dropping the word “paper” and becoming the National Folding Box Co.
The energetic head of the firm died in his home in New Haven, Connecticut on March 18, 1938 of bronchitis.

Argo International took over the mammoth building in the second half of the century. Founded in 1952, the company made parts for electric pumps. It owned and occupied the entire building for nearly fifty years.

But Manhattan is an island of flux, and neighborhoods constantly change. By the 1990s the Tribeca area had filled with trendy restaurants and clubs, and industrial spaces were becoming high-end residences. In 1998 No. 140 Franklin was purchased and a $10 million renovation begun, turning factory space into 14 luxury condominiums.

Sanba Inc. was commissioned to design the residences aimed at hip owners with lots of cash. Architect John Furth Peachy’s designs resulted in jaw-dropping apartments—one having 27 windows and encompassing 6,226 square feet.

The renovated lobby features Sol LeWitt wall drawings original cast iron columns -- photo Mathias Renner

As Sanba’s president, Aldo Andreoli, promised, the exterior of Albert Wagner’s structure was unaltered. The imposing paper box factory still commands attention at the corner of Franklin and Varick Streets.

And one homeowner has a lot of windows to wash.

The Puck Building - Houston and Lafayette Streets

photo by Alice Lum

In 1872 Austrian immigrant Joseph Keppler began work as an illustrator for Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper. He formed a friendship with the print shop foreman, Adolph Schwarzmann, and eventually the two conceived of a German-language humor magazine.

A month after Schwarzmann left to open his own printing business in August 1876, the pair formed a partnership and published their first edition of Puck. Schwarzmann provided the financial backing while Keppler came up with the editorial content and illustrations.

The magazine was an instant success and a year later an English version was simultaneously printed. While it supported the Democratic party, the publication was non-partisan in its satire. Political corruption, the latest fashion trends, labor unions, suffragists and “all forms of graft, extravagance and unjustice” were fair game for the editor’s sharp wit. Full-page cartoons printed in color (exceedingly unusual at the time) were most often drawn by Keppler.

As circulation grew Puck assembled a staff of talented comic writers and cartoonists. From its start Puck used the services of the J. Ottman Lithographic Company to produce the lithographs. With the growth of Puck, Ottman’s business burgeoned as well.

In March 1885 Ottman, Keppler and Schwarzmann joined together to purchase the property in the publishing district on the southwest corner of East Houston and Mulberry Streets where they would erect a building to house their two businesses. A year later the massive building was completed. Designed by Albert Wagner it was a great red-brick Romanesque Revival pile, the largest of the publishing house buildings.

Wagner visually separated the seven floors into three sections by filling equal-sized piers with variant-sized arches: single two-story arches on the first level, double two-story arches on the second, and triple three-story arches on the third level. Decorative cast iron masonry supports and window frames, corbelling of the cornice, and light-hearted sculptures of Puck (for which Keppler’s daughter reportedly posed), added the necessary material contrast.

Although construction took less than a year, it was not without problems. In September 1885 the foreman of the bricklayers, Patrick Cavanagh, was fired for drunkenness. A few days later when he had not yet returned home his wife found him in Gilligan’s saloon near the Police Headquarters, drinking with John Sweeney. Mrs. Cavanaugh, “after berating her besotted husband, struck with a bottle John W. Sweeney, who was helping him to spend his money,” reported The Times.

More serious was a strike in December 1885 “against the lumping system in the new Puck building.” Construction, however, continued and the building was opened in 1886, called by The New York Times “a very massive and handsome structure.”

The Puck Building in 1895 with the playful corner statue -- "King's Photographic View of New York" (author's collection)

On June 25, 1887 tenants included, in addition to Puck and the Ottman concern, G. P. Baldwin’s bookbindery; Robert Hornby’s electrotyping company; Stadecker & Emsheimer, hat frame manufacturers; H. Lindenmeyer, paper dealers; and on the first floor the hat store of Twest & Co. On that evening a fire originated in Baldwin’s offices and quickly spread. The large amount of inks, glues and paper in the building ignited into a major conflagration, not being fully extinguished until hours later, causing around $30,000 in damages.

The magazine continued to grow – circulation increasing from 80,000 in the early 1880s to 90,000 in the 1890s -- and in 1890 the adjoining property was purchased. A seamless addition, also designed by Wagner was erected between 1892 and 1893. "King’s Handbook of New York City" deemed it “the largest building in the world devoted to the business of lithographing and publishing, having a floor area of nearly eight acres.”

A final alteration became necessary when the city decided to extend Lafayette Street, its route cutting through the western portion of the building. The new western façade was designed by Wagner, however he died in 1898 and Herman Wagner, a relative, and his partner Richard John finished the job. Interestingly, the smaller sculpture of Puck over the original west entrance was duplicated rather than moved.

The smaller Puck statue over the doorway that was duplicated rather than moved - photo Alice Lum

Although Puck magazine did not survive the First World War, the Puck Building remained a constant presence throughout the 20th Century, relatively unchanged. The large gilded statue of Puck by sculptor Henry Baerer, on the northeast corner of Houston and Mulberry is a favorite among New Yorkers and a surprise to visitors.

In 2004 New York University acquired three floors (75,000 square feet) of the building for its Wagner Graduate School of Public Service and the Department of Sociology. Large areas have been reserved as event venues on the ground and topmost floors.

In the televised sit-com Will and Grace, Grace’s design office was situated in the Puck Building.

When the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission designated the Puck Building a landmark in 1983, it called it “one of the most imposing and impressive of the old publishing district buildings of the last century.”