The Half-Hidden 1844 No. 46 Commerce Street

photo via streeteasy.com

Alexander Turney Stewart opened his first dry goods store in 1823, selling Irish lace and linens.  His success would skyrocket and by 1848 he was known as the "Merchant Prince of America" and ran the largest emporium in the world, with branches in 12 countries, and before long was among the richest men in America.

Stewart's wealth did not come solely from dry goods.  Early on he invested in real estate, much in the Greenwich Village and Tribeca districts.  In 1844 he erected two brick houses on Commerce Street on land he leased from Trinity Church.   His choice of plots--sitting within the elbow of the street's sharp turn--is somewhat surprising, since it necessitated Nos. 46 and 48 Commerce Street to be built at right angles to one another.

The three stories tall, the brick Greek Revival style homes sat on brownstone-faced English basements.  Both three bays wide, they were intended for financially comfortable, although not wealthy, tenants.

Seen at the bend of Commerce Street, to the right, No. 46 was still three stories tall and retained its stoop and entrance when this photo was taken.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

In 1876 Stewart made a significant change to No. 46 when he hired builders James C. Hoe & Co. to add a fourth story at a cost of $300--in the neighborhood of $7,000 today.  The plans were submitted on March 24.  It would be, perhaps, the last noticeable transaction in the millionaire's illustrious career.  A week later, around April 1, Stewart contracted a cold.  He died in his marble mansion on Fifth Avenue on April 10.

Stewart's wife, the former Cornelia Clinch Stewart, inherited his vast real estate holdings.  Following her death in 1886 her nephew Prescott Hall Butler filed suit to have the will dismissed.   A well-heeled attorney and partner in the "white shoe" law firm of Evarts, Choate & Beaman, his battle proved profitable.  He received a large portion of the Stewart real estate, including the newly-remodeled No. 46 Commerce Street.

In the 42 years since the house was erected the Greenwich Village neighborhood had changed demographically.  It was now filling with immigrant families like that of Gottfried Mieling who lived at No. 46 when Hall took title to it.  Mieling, it seems, was involved in the brewing or saloon business.

In the spring of 1900 Hall began selling off much of his real estate holdings.  On March 9 alone he sold Nos. 53 and 55 Morton Street, and Nos. 46 and 48 Commerce Street.   He died in his Park Avenue mansion the following year, in December.

John Blesch, Jr. purchased No. 46 (his brother, Charles D. Blesch bought No. 48).   As had always been the case, the new owners were landlords, not residents.  And both buildings would remain in the Blesch family for years.

John Moriarty and his wife lived here in 1922 when they received devastating news.  Their son, also named John, was a detective in the Safe and Loft Squad (the team tasked with investigating commercial burglaries).  On Saturday night, June 24 Detective Moriarty was among the team of seven who had been staking out Nos. 306 and 308 Fifth Avenue.  When two burglars were seen entering the building they jumped into action.

The crooks fled onto the rooftops, followed closely by Moriarty and his partner, Detective Charles Schauss.  In the chaos Moriarty was struck by a bullet--fired not by the crooks, but tragically by Schauss.  The New York Times reported "One of the bullets struck a galvanized iron skylight...and, deflecting it, struck Moriarty...in the neck.  As Moriarity reeled toward the top of the stairs another detective saw him and helped him down."

Both of the perpetrators, Joseph Morris and John Behrmann, were caught; but Moriarty's condition was grave.  He was removed to Bellevue Hospital, there two days later it was said he had "slightly improved."  Despite that hopeful announcement, Moriarty died a week later on July 2.

John Moriarty went to the morgue to retrieve his son's body, but, according to The New York Times, "was informed that the body could not be removed until Dr. Charles Norris, Chief Medical Examiner, had performed an autopsy, as is the custom in cases of death from gunshot wounds."  Upon hearing that news, the detective's wife, already grief-stricken, could take no more.

An hour later she demanded that her husband's body be released.  "John gave his life for the City of New York and now it denies me his body.  They will cut and disfigure him against my wishes and against what I know his would be.  There is no excuse for cutting under the circumstances.  We know how he died," she pleaded.

Her father-in-law came to her support.  The New-York Tribune, on July 3, reported "John Moriarty, father of the dead detective, who lives at 46 Commerce Street, also visited Police Headquarters seeking assurance that no autopsy would be performed on the body."

The young John Moriarty left not only a widow but four children.  original source of photograph unknown

Detective Moriarty's funeral, held on July 6, was impressive.  His body was escorted from his home to the Church of St. Alphonsus on West Broadway by 100 detectives and 150 uniformed policemen.  The headline in the New-York Tribune the following day read "Detective Is Pallbearer For Comrade He Shot."

John Moriarty and his wife may have shared No. 46 with another family at the time.  But certainly in 1926 there was more than one family living in the building.  A restriction by the Department of Buildings that year read "not more than 2 families cooking, independently, on premises."

Among those renting part of the house were actress Elsie Rizer and her husband, maritime insurance broker, Aage Woldlike.  The couple was secretly married in Grace Church on November 21, 1925; however (unbeknownst to the minister, Rev. Eliot White), they had built an escape clause into the arrangement in case things did not work out.  On December 21, 1926 The New York Times explained "They agreed that for a year they would consider the marriage 'temporary.'  They told only one friend of the compact."

They had had wedding announcements printed, which they stashed away until the year had elapsed and they knew whether the marriage was a success or a failure.  It was a success.  And so in December 1926 the cards were mailed to their surprised friends:

The experiment having proved successful thus far, Miss Elsie Rizer and Mr. Aage Woldlike desire to announce their marriage Saturday, the twenty-first of November, one thousand nine hundred and twenty-five.  Grace Church, New York.

In 1928 Carlton A. Shively purchased what was described as "a five-story remodeled house."  The building had been sold three times within the past few months.  The stoop had been removed by now and the building contained four apartments and a studio.  The artist studio had been installed in the top floor which Alexander Stewart added in 1876.

Shively announced that the purchase was "for an investment."  Nevertheless, he moved into the house before very long, most likely prompted by his separation from his wife, the former Marie Wilson.  The couple was married on March 26, 1927, a year before Shively purchased No. 46, and had a son.  But on August 28, 1930 they were divorced.

Born in Kansas in 1891, Shively was a well-known financial writer, stock-market analyst and author.  Following his duty with the American Expeditionary Force in France during World War I, he came to New York City, joining the financial staff of The Evening Post in 1920.  In 1925 he moved to The Sun, becoming its financial editor in 1930.

Carlton A. Shively (left) as he appeared in 1946.  from the collection of the University of Texas at Arlington Libraries

In 1950 The World-Telegram acquired The Sun and Shively became an analyst writer for the merged newspapers.  He divided his time between the Commerce Street house and his home in Riverside, Connecticut.

Shively lived quietly here until his death on July 8, 1952.  The New York Times reported that he "died here Tuesday night, apparently of a heart attack.  His age was 61."   Three months later his estate sold No. 46 to the Truckee Holding Company.  The Times commented "Mr. Shively, a financial writer, had occupied the building as his residence until his death a few months ago."

No. 46 is nearly hidden in the sharp turn of Commerce Street.  photograph by the author

Tenants in the apartments came and went through the subsequent decades, drawing little or no attention to themselves.  But then in 2004 a gut renovation of the third and fourth floors created an upscale, 1,200-square-foot duplex apartment for the less low-profile Carly Simon.

The famous singer-songwriter, children's author, and musician lived most of the time in Martha's Vineyard, using the two-bedroom, two-bath Commerce Street co-op as a pied-à-terre when in town.  Four years after the renovation, she put the property on the market for $3.8 million, her sister Joanna Simon explaining to the New York Post "She's selling mainly because she lives nearly full-time in Martha's Vineyard these days."

Perhaps unexpectedly, the duplex did not sell.  It was not until November 2013 that Carly Simon sold it for a reduced price of $2.32 million.  Curbed New York commented "at long last, the apartment has found someone to appreciate its wide-plank flooring, two fireplaces, and bathtub in a non-bathroom (always a highlight)."  That "non-bathroom" was, in fact, Ms. Simon's living room.

Carly Simon's decorating taste included an antique French mantel and, unexpectedly, a bathtub in the living room.  photo via blocksy.com

It was one more page in the ever-changing history of the 1844 house squeezed into the hidden corner of Commerce Street, and of Greenwich Village in general.

The Charming 1821 Survivor at 28 Commerce Street

In 1821, about a year  before Cherry Lane was renamed Commerce Street, shoemakers Asher Martin and John Bennet got in on the building boom in Greenwich Village by erecting three modest homes at what would be numbered Nos. 24 through 28 Commerce Street.

Faced in red Flemish bond brick, the frame Federal-style houses were intended for working class families.   Two-and a half stories stories tall, each was just 16 feet wide.  They displayed none of the upscale details that defined more affluent residences.  Plain brownstone lintels and simple wooden cornices made do.  Nevertheless, the architect added decorative molding around the sunburst transom bar above the paneled door.

The delicate treatment of the entrance transom was a lovely exception to the otherwise moderate design.

It does not appear that either Bennet or Martin moved into one of the homes; although both changed professions before long,  By 1835 Bennet (perhaps having learned his new trade when constructing these houses) was living at No 2 Thames Street and listing himself as "carpenter."  Asher Martin was working for the city as an "assessor" that year, and living at No. 200 Grand Street.  The following year he received a promotion to City Collector of Assessments.

Bennet and Martin leased the houses until January 15, 1852 when they sold them as a package for $6,000, or about $65,300 each today.  No. 28 became home to mason Garret Spear.   The New Jersey native died in the Commerce Street house at the age of 56 on Sunday, November 27, 1859.  His funeral was held in the parlor the following night.

Houses like this routinely had a secondary building in the rear--either stable, a small house, or a shop (like a carpenter or blacksmith shop).  At the time of his death Spear was leasing the rear structure to brothers Charles and Gilliam B. Seely.  Both men lived nearby--Charles at No. 89 Commerce Street and Gilliam at No. 104 Leroy Street.

They used the building for their "soda water factory," known as Seely & Brother.  Using the address of 28-1/2 Commerce Street, they would manufacture and bottle soda water here for years.  For a period it seems that the building doubled as both factory and stable for the company's delivery truck.  On October 30, 1862 the brothers looked to replace one of the horses:

FOR SALE: A black horse, 16-3/4 hands high, short tail, very stylish and an excellent military horse; 5 years old, and a smart traveler; would make a good express or carriage horse, or fit for any use; warranted right every way.  Apply at Seely's soda water manufactory, 28-1/2 Commerce street, near Bedford.

Two years later another horse was offered for sale by Seeley's, this one a "brown Hambletonian mare."

In the meantime, following Garret Spear's death No. 28 was operated as a rooming house.  Isaac Laforge, a "cutter," was living here in 1861, as were Isaac and Helen M. Lafarge.  Their marriage ended in divorce that year.  J. Sullivan was renting a rented room in the house on August 19, 1863 when his name was pulled in the Union Army draft lottery.

The proprietor of the rooming house, like so many others, was reticent to rent to an unmarried woman.  In 19th century New York, a female of questionable character could seriously damage the reputation of the house.  An advertisement in The New York Herald on June 5, 1864 offered "To Let--A nicely furnished front room on second story, to a gentleman only."

The policy was still in place six years later.  An advertisement on February 17, 1870 read "To Let--A nicely furnished attic room, to gentlemen only."  The $2 per week rent would equal about $39 today.

The attic room was not the most comfortable.  Not only did the tenant have to deal with its sloping ceiling. but in the days before air conditioning or central heat, it would have been stiflingly hot in the summer and cold in the winter.  It was vacant again in 1871, and again in October 1872.  The price remained the same.

The wooden clapboards are clearly visible in this 1932 photo by Charles Von Urban.  A group of teen-aged girls have gathered on the sidewalk.  Note that the parlor floor shutters of No. 26 are tightly closed.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

At the time Timothy Colbert worked in a loft building at No. 107 Front Street, steps from the East River docks.  In the years before elevators, open shaftways fitted with pulleys were used to hoist materials up and down.  It was a dangerous system that repeatedly resulted in injuries and deaths.  On July 1, 1873 The New York Times reported that the 38-year old Colbert had plummeted from the third floor to the basement, "and was seriously injured."

Seely & Brother was gone by May 1873 when the rear building seems to have been used as a livery stable.  A patron who stored his buggies here offered them for sale that month.   "Two splendid leather top (City made) buggies; good for city or country; price $200 each."   Each would cost the potential buyer about $4,250 today.

The little house continued to house respectable, blue collar class families.  The family of little Mamie Bogart lived here in 1888 when the fifth grader was enrolled in the newly-built Public School No. 8 on King Street.

The houses of the charming row, unexceptional in 1821, are highly-sought after today.

No. 28 received inside plumbing in 1925 and an interior alteration in 1935.  The latter was no doubt in anticipation of renting unofficial apartments.  The Department of Buildings caught up with the owner a year later, when a "Multiple Dwelling Violation" was issued.

Problems came again in 1999 when the little house was deemed an "unsafe building."  The condition was corrected and No. 28 returned to life as a private family home.  The owner, Richard Verrazzani, incurred the Department of Building's displeasure again, however.  In 2010 he was cited for creating an illegal apartment in the basement.

Despite an occasional brush with the city, the appearance No. 28 and its 1821 neighbors are little changed.  They create a picturesque snapshot of early 19th century Greenwich Village.

photographs by the author

The Dominick Neusch House - 15 Commerce Street

The cast iron areaway railing was updated in the 1840's or '50's with an anthemion-themed Greek Revival design.

Perhaps no one was more involved in Greenwich Village's building boom of the 1820's than Charles Oakley.  He constructed dozens of houses and shops, including a row of four Late Federal-style homes at Nos. 9 through 15 Commerce Street in 1826.  Two and a half stories tall and 21-feet wide, they featured brownstone stoops above English basements and graceful but unpretentious decorative details.

The openings wore simple brownstone sills and lintels.  The entrance of No. 15 featured paneled pilasters and narrow sidelights.  One or two dormers would have originally pierced the slightly-peaked roof.

Susan Henshaw lived at No. 15 by 1834.  The widow of William H. Henshaw, she would be the first of several widows to occupy the house.   She died on February 25, 1844 at the age of 75.  Interestingly, there was no mention in local newspapers of a funeral.  Instead, the New-York Daily Tribune said only "Her remains will be taken to Greenwood Cemetery for interment this (Tuesday) afternoon at 3 o'clock, from her late residence No. 15 Commerce street."

The next occupant was William F. Godfrey.  A city employee, he had the title of Superintendent of Carts.  He was, as well, highly involved in local politics and in 1853 was chairman of the 9th Ward 22nd Council District.  He held a meeting in the house on October 19 that year to nominate Aaron L. Deveau for the office of district councilman.

It was probably the last gathering in the Godfrey parlors.  A week earlier he had placed an advertisement in The New York Herald that read "A piano for sale--A very fine toned instrument, 6-3/4 octaves compass, rosewood case, with round corners, almost new."  The ad explained that the owner was moving and asked $175 for the instrument.  It hinted at the Godfreys' high-end furnishings, the price equal to about $5,730 today.

Another widow moved into No. 15.  As was common, she garnered extra money by renting out a room.  On June 28, 1859 she advertised "A young American widow, without family, will let a furnished room to a gentleman and lady, without board or with board for lady only, or would accommodate one young lady."

It would appear her tenant opted for board, because three months later an advertisement sought "An intelligent Protestant woman (widow preferred) to do the general housework" and stressed the applicant "must be a good plain cook and first rate washer."  Meals were the only amenity the boarder would received.  The ad mentioned that the applicant would have "only one to wash for."

In March 1861 she was looking for a new boarder.  "A young American widow, living alone and having more room than she requires, would let one Room or a Parlor and Bedroom, with breakfast if desired.  House neat and location convenient."

Whether the young widow remarried soon after that ad, or if the house was rented to Louise Mortimer is unclear.  In either case the Civil War would upend her domestic stability after her husband went off to fight, ending her income.  She looked for a job in January 1862 as she prepared to give up the Commerce Street house.

"A lady, who is about breaking up housekeeping and whose husband is at the seat of war, would like to procure a situation as housekeeper in a gentleman's family; widower or bachelor preferred."

A subsequent advertisement only three months later revealed that Louise had received tragic news.  "House wanted by a widow, without children."

The entrance is an understated example of the late Federal style.

Around the end of the war the house was procured by real estate operator John McClelland.   Following his death his estate sold the property on April 3, 1875 to Dominick Neusch.  He paid the equivalent of $132,000 today.  Exactly one week later he filed plans to alter the dwelling.

The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported on April 10 that he had hired builders Steel & McLaughlin to add a full third story to the house.  The alterations cost him $650, or about $15,000 today.  The seamless addition copied the lower openings and featured an up-to-date Italianate cornice.

It may have been that John Laird was leasing the house when Neusch purchased it.  In any event, his family was living here on April 17, 1876 when his widowed mother died.  Her funeral was held in the house two days later.

Before long, however, the Neusch family had moved in, including daughters Magdalena and Emma.  Dominick Neusch died in the house on New Year's Day, 1904 at the age of 77.  The house was left to his unmarried daughters.  Magdalena and Emma were still living here at late as 1917.

By the early 1920's Anthony DeVola leased the house from the Neusch family.  In March 1922 he rented a room to Salatil S. Gupge.  The 29-year old had left his native India about eight years earlier to pursue his education.  He had been studying at the University of Illinois in Urbana.

The New York Times would later remark "Gupge, always well dressed and polished of manner, became a part of the home life of the DeVola's.  Much of his time he spent in his room perusing books of a philosophical and religious nature.  He seldom sought the companionship of women, though he was courteous and conversational whenever he came in contact with them."

Gupge's father. Sirnker Sitarus, was chief engineer in the town of Kholatur, near Bombay.  The family was "distinguished" in the community.  Gupge did not take his father's surname according to Hindu custom.

At around 11 on the morning of July 30, 1922, Gupge had not come down for breakfast.  DeVola went to check on him and smelled gas while going up the stairs.  The Times reported "His knock failed to bring a reply.  DeVola broke in the door and found the young student fully clothed on the bed, with the windows closed and two gas jets open."

DeVola turned off the gas and opened the windows, and then tried to rouse Gupge while his son ran for a policeman.  When an ambulance from St. Vincent's Hospital arrived, Gupge was pronounced dead.

Newspapers continually described Gupge as a "Hindu" and The New York Herald went even further by saying "a Hindu student of motion picture photography was found dead in bed yesterday in his room in a Hindu rooming house at 15 Commerce street."

An Urbana, Illinois newspaper was not glowing in its recollections of the dead man.  "He was not a brilliant scholar, but was considered a 'plodder,' somewhat handicapped by his lack of knowledge of this country.  There was nothing in his career here out of the ordinary.  He was not known to have any women friends and had very few friends among the male students."

A number of sealed letters, apparently written just before his death, were turned over to the police, who deemed it a suicide.  Others were not so sure.  The New York Herald reported "Anthony De Vala [sic]...and Hindu friends of the dead man expressed the belief that it was an accident, as the jet was not turned on fully."

The Commerce Street block saw an unusual amount of foot traffic the following day.  The New York Times reported on July 31, "The prominence of Gupge...among his own people was attested by the number of Hindu residents of the city who filed into the rooming house throughout the day and discussed the young man's death."

The last of the Neusch descendants to own No. 15 were Mrs. Beulah R. Morse and Mrs. Ida C. Nehb.  On May 13, 1946 The Times reported "A dwelling in Greenwich Village that had been in the family of the sellers for seventy-two years passed to new hands."  The women had sold it in an all-cash deal to "an investor."

Other than updating the plumbing that year, the new owner did not make any significant changes to the old house.  One of the two renovations in 1953 and 1968 included the stuccoing of the facade.  A gut renovation was begun in 2013 which resulted in what a realtor calls "a stylish, light and open plan."  No trace of the historic interiors remain.

photographs via DouglasElliman. com

photographs by the author

From Vinegar Bitters to Domestic Charm - 32-34 Commerce Street

The exquisite charm of the building belies its industrial beginnings.

When the owners of the three-story house at No. 34 Commerce Street rented the parlor and basement levels in March 1854, their advertisement mentioned the "marble mantels and folding doors on the first floor."  The following year they suggested that "gas can be put in, if desired"--evidence of their comfortable financial situation.  By the first years of the 1860's it was home to the William Kingsland family.   The funeral of Kingsland's wife, Eliza G. Kingsland was held in the house on August 7, 1867.

At the time of Mrs. Kingsland's death, R. H. McDonald was embarking on a new business venture.  Around 1862 Joseph Walker, who styled himself as "Dr. J. Walker," began producing a patent medicine which he called Dr. J. Walker's California Vinegar Bitters.  He purchased some of the ingredients from a New York City dealer, R. H. McDonald & Co.

Then, in 1868, McDonald and his partner, J. C. Spencer, proposed a deal whereby they would manufacture the tonic and act as its the sole agents.  Walker moved his production and distribution to New York City in 1869.  He later explained to a reporter from The American Journal of Digestive Diseases, "we first commenced business in Platt Street, and continued there for a month or two; from there we went to Commerce Street."

On November 13, 1869 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that R. H. McDonald & Co. would erect a "one story open front wagon shed" at Nos. 32 and 34 Commerce Street, on the site of the former Kingsland house.  Whether McDonald purposely misrepresented the building--perhaps to avoid property taxes--is unknown.  But the resultant structure was by no means a one-story open-front wagon shed.

Instead, a two-story brick factory was completed within months.  On February 8, 1870 an advertisement in The New York Herald read "Wanted--At the California Vinegar Bitters office, a smart boy, from 14 to 16 years of age, who writes a good hand and resides with his parents."  The stipulation that the boy live with his parents eliminated what were commonly referred to as "street arabs;" the homeless boys who would be likely to pilfer goods or money.

Someone trusted with cash--possibly McDonald himself--was careless a few months later.  On May 18 an announcement in The New York Herald read "Lost--On Monday afternoon, shortly after six o'clock, in going from the California Vinegar Bitters Manufactory, 32 and 34 Commerce street to corner of Morton and Hudson streets, an envelope containing $178 in currency and greenbacks.  The person finding it will be very liberally rewarded by returning it to the above number."

The lost cash would equal about $3,450 today and one wonders what reward could inspire the finder to return it.

McDonald had by now changed the name of his firm to the R. H. McDonald Drug Co.  He marketed the California Vinegar Bitters through an aggressive advertising program.  The tonic was called "The great blood purifier and life-giving principle" and was guaranteed to cure scores of disorders, including "heart and chest, liver and kidney complaints, stomach ache, jaundice, gout and fits, dizziness...biliousness, dysentary, piles, etc."

The box promised that "pin, tape and other worms lurking in the system of so many thousands are effectually destroyed and removed;" and that for "female complaints, in young or old, married or single, at the dawn of womanhood or the turn of life, this tonic betters has no equal."

from the collection of the Smithsonian Institutions' National Museum of American History.

The wily McDonald marketed the product not only as a tonic, but as a temperance drink.  An 1871 ad mentioned in part "The liquor traffic annually sends to prison 100,000 persons, reduces 200,000 children to a state worse than orphanage, sends 60,000 annually to drunkard's graves, and makes 600,000 drunkards."

McDonald's sanctimonious claims, however, were shot down by Professor William R. Nichols of the Boston Board of Health.  Suspicious, he analyzed the contents and announced to the East Saginaw Sanitary Convention in December 1884 that Dr. J. Walker's California Vinegar Bitters contained six percent alcohol.

Years before that, however, things had become strained between McDonald and Joseph Walker.  Walker was in the factory only one or two months in the fall and again in the spring.  "The balance of the year I consumed in selling," he explained in The American Journal of Digestive Diseases.  When he was in town, he had heated discussions with McDonald about the advertising campaign.  "I don't remember particularly what I said; only that he was spending money that I wanted." 

Indeed, McDonald had stopped paying his partner his share of the income.  Things grew uglier when McDonald refused to show the books to Walker or his son, Josiah; and eventually locked them out of the factory.  In 1872 McDonald moved the operation to Washington Street.  After years of receiving no money from the sale of his tonic, Joseph Walker finally sued in 1877 for $5,000--a little over $120,000 today.

In the meantime, the Commerce Street factory had been converted to a storage facility by Jas. Michaeles & Son.  A July 1872 advertisement promised "Furniture &c. taken on storage at the lowest rates, packed and shipped to all parts of the city and country; ample room for storage of all kinds of merchandise."  The firm's successful business led it to expand into the building steps away at No. 38 Commerce Street the following year.

Second-hand furniture dealer and carpenter James Hodge moved his operation into Nos. 32-34.  A typical ad, on May 2, 1874, offered "Large lot [of] fine counters, showcases, drug drawers, office railings; will be sold cheap.  Carpenter and cabinet work at short notice."

Around 1884 J. Soria & Co.'s dye shop leased the building.   Founded before 1859 and now run by Andrew Soria, it described itself as a "French dyeing establishment."   When son David Soria renewed the lease in 1891, the yearly rent was $500, or about $14,000 today.

The dyeing operation remained in the building at least until 1898 when it was sold to Michael H. Cardozo.  In 1896 A. F. Soria employed six men and eight women who worked 54 hours per week.  One can only imagine the miserable conditions inside the brick building with large vats of boiling water creating a constant hot and humid work environment.

Schoolboys, still in their knickers and ties, roller skate near the corner of Commerce and Bedford Street in 1922.  In the background Nos. 32-34 Commerce Street is boarded up and neglected.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

In the first decades of the 20th century the old factory building was in serious disrepair.  In 1912 a demolition permit was issued for the property.  For whatever reason, the owners never went ahead with the project.

By now Greenwich Village was the epicenter of New York City's artistic community.  In October 1923 a group of artists, writers and performers--including poet Edna St. Vincent Millay--purchased a cluster of the old houses around the Commerce and Bedford Street intersection in an effort to save them from apartment building developers.  The houses were renovated and restored as private homes.

No. 32-34 was converted to apartments shortly afterward.  But its renovation was not so glamorous as the private homes.  Painted beige, there was nothing especially pleasing about the building; and by the last half of the century it was a sort of eyesore along the picturesque block.

Then, on October 17, 1993 New York Times journalist Tracie Razhon wrote "change is coming for one of Greenwich Village's most tranquil and historic enclaves...four buildings, which border a private garden mews, have offers from young architects and other professionals that have been accepted by a family that has owned them for decades."

Included in the group was the nearly vacant converted factory.  Razhon said "There is one rent-controlled tenant, who lives in half of the downstairs.  The prospective buyer is a young architect."

Scott Newman created an entry stoop and period-appropriate iron railings, removed the paint and redesigned the interiors.  The renovations resulted in a two-family residence.

Long the ugly duckling of the block, it is now an appealing piece of what Razhon called "one of Greenwich Village's most tranquil and historic enclaves."

photographs by the author

An Abolitionist, A Cop and Murdered Brothers - 48 Commerce Street

Alexander Turney Stewart arrived in New York in 1823 from Lisburn, Ireland.  He established a small dry goods store with lace and linens he brought from Ireland, purchased with inherited money.  By the 1840's his emporium was the largest in the world, with branches in several countries.  He wisely invested a portion of his wealth in real estate.

The two-block long, elbow-shaped Commerce Street had been opened around the turn of the century.  Stewart acquired the building plots at the sharp curve, Nos. 46 and 48, from Trinity Church.  In 1844 he erected two brick-faced Greek Revival homes at right angles to one another on the site.

Three bays wide, No. 48 sat three stories tall above a rusticated brownstone English basement.  A stone stoop led to the entrance which expectedly featured sturdy stone pilasters upholding a heavy entablature and cornice.

The 19-foot residence was handsome but unexceptional.  That it was intended for a middle-class family was surprising, given that steps away at No. 38 Commerce Street was Alexander McLachlan's brewery.

When No. 48 was competed John H. Dey was 22 years old.  Born in Varick, New York, he was the editor of the Geneva Courier and was active in the local temperance movement.  He married Emeline Matilda Cowles in 1848.  Around the time of the Civil War he became associate editor of The New York Evangelist, an anti-slavery gazette published by the American Bible Tract Society.

In the early 1870's he moved his family to New York City and into No. 48 Commerce Street.  The couple had three children, James A., Ella C., and Henry Ellingwood Dey.  John H. Dey became active in the University Place Presbyterian Church, serving as an Elder beginning in 1873.  (He was listed as "Ruling Elder" in 1875.)   Ella, who was 21 in 1874, taught at Grammar School No. 47 on East 12th Street.

The house was the scene of Ella's wedding on October 12, 1876.  Her marriage to James A. Baird, the son of John Baird, vice-president of the Metropolitan Elevated Railroad, was celebrated by the Rev. Robert Russell Booth.

The minister was, incidentally, a powerful and well-known orator.  In his notable sermon, "Personal Forgiveness and Public Justice," in the Mercer Street Presbyterian Church on April 23, 1865 he blamed the assassination of Abraham Lincoln in part on Lincoln's compassionate treatment of the rebels.  He said in part:

Our Government needed an infusion of Old Testament severity rather than New Testament tenderness, and it seems clear that God has intended, by this sudden and appalling calamity, to bear our remembrances to those truths of distributive justice which stand out so clearly in His dealings with Israel of old.

When John and Emeline moved to Pelham Manor in 1878, the newlyweds joined them.  Tragically, the following year John Baird unexpectedly died.

Alexander T. Stewart had died in 1876, one of the wealthiest men in America.  His widow, Cornelia, inherited his vast real estate holdings.  Her next tenants in No. 48 Commerce Street were the Gabriel Aiguier family.

Aiguier was 49 years old when he moved into the house.  His wife, Johanna, was 12 years younger.  The couple had seven children: Johanna, James, John, Lizzie, Elinor, Gabriel, Jr., and Margaret.  James and John were both employed, working as store clerks, and Gabriel, Jr. was a freshman at New York City College (the only son to seek higher education).

Aiguier was a veteran police officer, appointed to the police force on November 30, 1853.  By now he had weathered tense events.  He was stationed at the New York Tribune office when it was attacked by a savage Draft Riots mob in 1863; and was on duty during the violent Orange Riots of 1872.

After a career of 35 years, Aiguier retired in 1888.  It was around that time that he moved to Brooklyn.  When he died there on December 6, 1903, The New York Times entitled his obituary "Death of an Old Policeman," and noted "He never tasted tobacco or liquor."

By then Prescott Hall Butler owned No. 48.  Cornelia Stewart had died in 1886 and in December 1891 her estate distributed the extensive property holdings among the children of her sister, Louisa C. Butler.  (The New York Times claimed the massive pile of deeds weighed five pounds.)  It was most likely Butler who added the heavy, cast metal cornices over the windows.

Butler continued to lease the house until March 1900 when he sold off his multiple Greenwich Village properties.  The Blesch family would own No. 48 for years.

By the post-World War I years the Greenwich Village neighborhood had changed.  Many of the old brick houses had been razed and replaced by apartment buildings, and an influx of immigrants gave the district a diverse personality.

The Gillen family was living at No. 48 Commerce Street in 1920.  Mrs. Gillen was a widow and lived here with her two young adult sons.  She was awakened on the night of February 21 to find three men holding up her unsteady son, Patrick.   They told her he had "been drinking and would be all right shortly."  After they left, according to The Times, "it was found Patrick had been stabbed in the head and was dying."  The young man did not survive the night.  His funeral was held in the house at 7:00 on the morning of February 25.

A few weeks later, on March 21, the Young Republican Club was the target of a holdup.  The 13 members inside were robbed of $200 in cash and jewelry.   Two men were arrested on March 24, charged with being implicated in the robbery.  More importantly, Detective Campbell asked for "heavy bail" for 19-year old Thomas Falasca, telling the judge "he believed Falasca to be the man who stabbed Patrick Gillen to death."

There were three men involved in Patrick's death, however, and his older brother vowed to find the other two.  John J. Gillen, who worked as a longshoreman, enlisted close friends to work with him in finding the men responsible.  It was a dangerous quest that did not go unnoticed.

At the time John had been seeing 18-year old Elizabeth Seeley, who lived nearby on Christopher Street, for about a year.  Friends were sure the couple would soon be married.  On Saturday night, November 19, 1921 John took Elizabeth to the Cinderella Tea Room (an innocent-sounding name for what was in fact a speakeasy) at No. 9 Cornelia Street for dinner and dancing.

The New York Herald reported "They danced until almost midnight and the place was being made ready for closing when...a man sent in word he wanted to speak to Gillen 'for just a minute,' and Gillen without hesitating went to the door."  When John got to the door, there was no one around so he stepped into the dark street.   In the darkness an ambush awaiting.

A volley of shots rang out and, according to the New-York Tribune, 25-year old John fell to the pavement crying, "I got it!  I got it!"  Hearing the shots, Elizabeth had rushed to the doorway.  She was confronted by a man who stepped over Gillen's body, brandishing a revolver.  The Tribune reported "The man eyed her for a moment, lowered his weapon until it pointed at her feet and pulled the trigger.  She fell."

His brief appearance in the lighted doorway exposed his face.  Elizabeth and several of the terrified patrons recognized him.  With both Gillen and Elizabeth wounded and bleeding, the people inside were too afraid to step out of the speakeasy where the assailants might still be lurking.  It was a passing taxi driver who saw Gillen in the street who picked him up and drove him to St. Vincent's Hospital.  He did not notice Elizabeth, who would have to wait.  John died on the way to the hospital.

Elizabeth was also taken to St. Vincent's; however she was, understandably, "unable to tell a coherent story."  The teen may initially have been terrified to name the murderer, as well.

An early theory that Gillen's murder "had its cause in the jealousy of a man he knew" (the police said he "had been friendly with a married woman") was quickly dismissed.   Elizabeth and Mrs. Gillen provided names and descriptions and on November 27 three arrests were made.  The gangsters were shockingly young--James Rogan was 22, John O'Connell 25, and Joseph Connelli was just 18 years old.

Rogan had recently been released form prison for stabbing two men in Midtown, Connelli had been released on a suspended sentence, and O'Connell had been sentenced to a year or longer for an attack on a Greenwich Village girl "whom he lured from her home by a false message purporting to have come from a girl friend."  The three men were positively identified by Elizabeth and other patrons of the Cinderella Tea Room.

On April 21 1922 Judge McIntyre imposed a 20-year sentence in Sing Sing on John Rogas.  He took the opportunity to express his opinion on New York youth and on speakeasies.  He said the youth of the city "had run wild during the last five years" and said that because New Yorkers did not like Prohibition, they "had an idea they could violate the law with impunity."

"This defendant was in one of the hellholes of this city," he raged on.  "Such places should be closed."

Now left alone, the murdered boys' mother may have been the last to live at No. 48 Commerce Street while it was still a private home.   On January 23, 1926 it was purchased by Winifred Wilson and Anne Hoody who announced "It is to be remodeled into high-class apartments."   The stoop was removed and the entrance moved to the basement level.  A fourth floor studio was added with expansive windows, topped by a brick parapet.

The war years saw two interesting female residents.  Mary King helped in the war effort by serving as a hostess at the United Seamen's Service Club.  Her name had changed to Mary King Holland on September 12, 1943 when she and eight other brides were given a breakfast party at the Savoy Plaza.  All of the women met their husbands at the United Seamen's Service Club.

The new wives were given strong advice from Commander Harry Manning, who said in part, "If your husband likes the sea, don't nag him to quit it."

Another tenant doing her part in the war was Jean P. Smith, a lieutenant in the Women's Air Corps.  She was among the first large contingent of the WACS to be deployed to the Southern Pacific area, landing in Sydney, Australia on May 12, 1943.  According to The New York Times, their male counterparts were less interested in their military contribution than in potential romantic companionship.

"Perhaps not since the first American soldiers arrived in this country, Dec. 23, 1941, has there been so much public interest in any event involving Americans.  American fighters, anxious for a sight of girls from home--for many of them the first in two years--sought to 'make dates' as the girls got off the boats."

In 1968 a renovation resulted in a duplex in the basement and first floor, and two apartments on each upper story.  It was apparently at this time that a metal stairway was installed.  Despite its alterations, the house, hidden in the crook of Commerce Street, remains an important presence on the picturesque block.

photographs by the author

The Noah Bigelow House - 13 Commerce Street

Perhaps no developer was more active in Greenwich Village in the 1820's than Charles Oakley.  In a single transaction the fall of 1819, for instance, he purchased 20 building lots.  Before 1830 he erected scores of wooden, brick faced homes--most often in groups of three or four--in the rapidly developing district still far north of the city.

In 1826 he completed four such houses on Commerce Street, Nos. 9 through 15.  Two and a half stories tall, the Federal-style homes were faced in Flemish bond brick.  The entrance to No. 13, above its stone stoop, conceded the working-class nature of the homes.  While the entrances to upscale Federal homes boasted ornate leaded transoms and sidelights, fluted columns and carving, this was handsome but understated.  Flat pilasters and narrow sidelights framed the single door.

Oakley originally leased the houses.  The tenants of at least three were involved in the building trade.  But by the early years of the 1840's No. 13 was owned by the Rev. Noah Bigelow.  Born on March 4, 1783, Bigelow had served during the Revolutionary War.  He and his wife, the former Sarah Jackson (who was known as Sally), had six children: Lucy, Sarah Jane, Sally Anne, Elijah, Samuel Merwin, and Ruth Grace.

After Sarah Jane married Charles Shute Pell in 1840, the newlyweds moved into the Commerce Street house.   Sarah Jane tragically died just three years later.  Pell and their young son, Charles E., stayed on with the Bigelows. 

Charles S. Pell was one of two teachers in the Boys Department of Grammar School No. 8 on Grand Street, near Wooster, in 1844.  The following year he was promoted to principal. 

Bigelow was the minister of the Bedford Street Church, a position that entitled him to a tax break on his home.   After paying his property tax for 1843, he pointed out to the Board of Assistants that he had been over taxed.  In response the minutes of the Board's July 22, 1844 meeting noted:

The Committee on Annual Taxes, to whom was referred the peitition of Reverend Noah Bigelow, a clergyman of the Methodist Episcopal Church, to have taxes refunded to him for 1843, in Ninth Ward, in consequent of his being a minister of the Gospel report that Mr. Bigelow was assessed on one thousand seven hundred dollars, on No. 13 Commerce Street; that he is entitled to a deduction from his estate of one thousand five hundred dollars, by virtue of his clerical office.

Rev. Bigelow received a refund of $13.60, or about $460.00 today.

On August 4, 1849 the New-York Daily Tribune ran a single-line article that read simply "Rev. Noah Bigelow, long and favorably known as a clergyman of the Methodist Church, died on Thursday morning, at his residence in this city."

Charles Pell inherited farmland land on the Upper East Side and began construction on a house at what would later be numbered 311 East 58th Street.  But never moved in.   Remarried by 1853, both he and his wife were teachers in the New York Orphan Asylum.  The position not only provided them lodging; but gave Charles the opportunity to flex his gardening skills. 

Year after year he submitted his plants to the exhibition of the American Institute, and year after year he brought home awards.  In 1857, for instance, he his "twelve long blood beets" won second place; his "twelve turnip rooted blood beets," were first; and for his "best collection of cut flowers" he got a silver cup and $10.  He also brought home silver medals for his dahlias, "best collection of plants in pots," and chrysanthemums.

Sally Bigelow was evidently left alone in No. 13 after Samuel Merwin Bigelow died at the age of 24 on December 29, 1857.  His funeral was held in the house the following afternoon at 3:00.

Sally continued working within the Bedford Street Church, serving on the Committee for the Sick and the Church Committee in 1865, for instance.  The closeness of Sally with her grandson, Charles E. Pell, was evidenced by his acting as her "attorney-in-fact" by 1876.  He was actually not a professional attorney, but a partner in the lumber firm Dennat & Pell, and a real estate operator.

On December 3, 1886 Sally transferred the title of her home to Charles E. Pell.  The price was listed as "nominal," suggesting it was most likely a gift.   She died a few months later at the age of 102.

Pell quickly sold No. 13 to James. E. Bonesteel.    On March 11, 1887 plans were filed to update the aging home.  The plans called for "building to be raised, also other alterations, cost, $500."  The term "raised" meant that the attic would become a full-height third floor.   The nearly seamless addition included an up-to-date Italianate style cornice.

Bonesteel apparently never lived in the house, but leased it.  The Ferguson family was living here at the turn of the century.  Little Alva P. Ferguson died in the house on April 13, 1903 at just 7 years old.

James E. Bonesteel sold No. 13 to Katherine P. Retugna in April 1919.  Her $5,500 mortgage (provided by Bonesteel) would be equal to nearly $78,000 today.  Katherine died around 1946, but Anna and Teresa Retugna were still listed in the house as late as 1961.

The house changed hands for $1.4 million in 2002; and then in the spring of 2007 it was purchased for $4.1 million.  Designer Steven Riddle was hired to do a massive make-over.  The Federal interiors disappeared in favor of glamour.   Period-inappropriate mantels took the place of Federal originals.  The house was placed back on the market in January 2008 for $5.25 million.

The nearly $1.5 million renovation included a French mantel and granite-topped bar (an upgrade that would no doubt have caused Rev. Bigelow to shudder).  photo via Curbed New York

Because No. 13 sits squarely within the Greenwich Village Historic District, no alterations could be made on the exterior.  The 1826 ironwork survives, and outwardly the house looks little different than it did in 1887 when James Bonesteel raised the roof.

photographs by the author

From Brewery to Off-Broadway - 38 Commerce St, the Cherry Lane Theatre

Founded in 1823 by Miles & Bacon, the Croton Brewery at 59 Chrystie Street made ale and porter.  (The partners had previously operated a grocery business at the address.)  Bacon borrowed his $3,000 share for the start-up business from a well-to-do Greenwich Village resident, Alexander McLachlan, who lived at 7 Bank Street. (The significant sum would translate to about $94,500 in 2025.)

On November 24, 1827, Alexander McLachlan pressed Bacon for payment on the loan.  Unable to pay, Bacon executed a chattel mortgage to McLachlan on about half of the debt.  A chattel mortgage guarantees the outstanding amount by putting up securities--in this case it included Bacon's, "stock of beer, malt and hops, together with the brewing utensils, hogsheads, barrels and kegs in the brewery" as well as "two horses, two drays and the harness of same, a pleasure waggon [sic] and harness."

Court papers revealed that "the mortgage was to be void on payment of the sum of $1523 on or before the 24th May, 1828."  McLachlan, according to the courts, was "frequently in the brewery, but never interfering in the business, or intimating that he had any control over the property."  Bacon kept his financial trouble hidden from his partner and his creditors--until the due date to pay McLachlan rolled around, that is.

In the spring of 1828, McLachlan found himself the owner of a brewery.  Rather than sell the business, he embraced the role of brewer (perhaps due to those frequent visits).  In 1836, he leased land from the Gomez family, which owned much of the surrounding property, and constructed a new brick brewery on Commerce Street, a few feet west of Bedford Street.

McLachlan's choice of sites is a bit surprising.  At the time similar businesses were cropping up nearer the riverfront.  The neighborhood of Commerce and Bedford Streets was quiet, residential, and still sparsely developed.

McLachlan's architect made no attempt to pretend this was anything but a utilitarian structure.  The three-story brewery featured a double-doored truck bay where horse-drawn wagons would come and go laden with loads of heavy barrels.

Sometime in the late 1850's McLachlan moved his business to No. 99 Greenwich Avenue, where he advertised "Croton Ale from Alexander McLachlan, Brewer and Maltster."  The Commerce Street building was used by T. R. McDermott in the early 1860's, most likely as a tobacco warehouse.  Charles McDermott was an established tobacco merchant at the time.

In 1873 the building became the storage warehouse of Jas. Michales & Son.  The firm touted its modern improvements, perfect for the storing of valuable household items.  An typical advertisement in 1874 read:

Storage Warehouse--For furniture, pianos, baggage, &c., in separate rooms, and low rates; separate department for pianos, mirrors, paintings, &c.; we invite the attention of parties who intend to store their furniture to our accommodations for the storing of goods, style of rooms, light, ventilation, &c.; all goods taken up and down on elevators; the warehouses are guarded day and night by private watchmen."

Michales & Son appears to have gone out of business in 1878.  An advertisement in The New York Herald on May 29 that year offered: "Nine upright showcases, with stands, for sale cheap to pay charges."

The former brewery filled a variety of uses, including a box factory, as the neighborhood changed around it.  By the end of World War I the Greenwich Village was Manhattan's Left Bank--the haunt of its art, music and literary community.  In the mid-1920's intimate off-Broadway theaters appeared along Greenwich Village's tree-lined streets, including the Grove Street Theatre and the Greenwich Village Theatre.

In 1923 Alexander McLachlan's brewery building underwent a conversation to a theater.  The Provincetown Players commissioned Cleon Throckmorton to design what would be named the Cherry Lane Theatre.  (As was happening throughout the neighborhood, an expansive window was installed on the top floor to accommodate an artist's studio.)  The tiny auditorium with its 200 seats opened in May the following year.

The Cherry Lane Theatre saw a succession of managers and theatrical companies.  In 1927 the New Playwrights took over; and on January 22, 1930 The New York Times noted that the theater would open that week "under the management of Paul Gilmore.  'The Short Cut,' with Helen Holmes in the leading role, will be the play."  Gilmore would continue to manage the theater for its succession of troupes for a decade.

Seven years later, on August 16, 1937, the newspaper announced "The American Show Shop, 38 Commerce Street, will test another new play this evening.  Call it 'That Rib of Adam,' written in blank verse by a lawyer, Franklin G. Manley."  The edgy production exemplified the avant garde offerings the theater would become known for.

In October 1939 well-known Broadway producer Richard Herdon announced that he and a group of associated had leased the theater "with a view to trying out a series of revues for possible presentation uptown."   The auditorium was updated, including a restaurant  At the same time the second floor was converted to a lounge, dressing rooms and two apartments.  There were now four apartments on the third floor and two on the fourth.

Herndon's venture was short-lived and by 1941 the Cherry Lane Theatre was home to the Savoy Opera Guild, which staged operettas.

On November 27 that year The Times noted "After the three final performances of Gilbert and Sullivan's 'Iolanthe' tonight, Friday and Saturday nights in the Cherry Lane Theatre...the Savoy Opera Guild will present 'The Mikado.'"  Apparently The Mikado was a box office success.  The group revived it in 1942 and in 1943.

Next to move in was the Hedgerow Theatre which opened on January 16, 1945 with Eugene O'Neill's The Emperor Jones.  Critic Lewis Nichols was less than complimentary in his review.  "Unfortunately, it is necessary to shoot the silver bullet at this point; the Hedgerow's production is not the best the play has seen hereabout during recent years."

The Gilmore Stock Company was here in 1948, and the newly-formed Off Broadway, Inc. in 1949.  Off Broadway opened on  June 6 with Gertrude Stein's Yes Is for a Very Young Man, a play about France during the Nazi occupation.  The small cast that night was made up of a young Anthony Franciosa, Michael Grazzo, Bea Arthur and Kim Stanley.

The Madonna Players opened with a new production of Jerome K. Jerome's The Passing of the third Floor Back on April 26, 1951.  But the end of the line for the little theater appeared to be close at hand at the time.  Within the year it was announced that the building might be demolished to erect an apartment house.

But locals came to the rescue.  On September 29, 1952 The Times announced "A group of civic-spirited residents headed by Kenneth Carroad outbid commercial interests and acquired title from the Gomez family, which had owned the structure since 1819."  The newspaper reminded readers that the Cherry Lane "has always been a laboratory for experimental plays," adding "Theatres of this kind have their place and purpose as proving grounds for ideas, actors, directors and scenic designers.  There is always the possibility that another Eugene O'Neill or Robert Edmund Jones may emerge."

The venue continued to present new plays and introduce fledgling thespians.  When Paul Vincent Carroll's drama The Wise Have Not Spoken was debuted on February 10, 1954, its sets were designed by Edgar Lansbury, brother of actress Angela Lansbury.

A glance through the playbills reveals names which would later become well-known to theater, television and motion picture audiences.  Among the cast of To Be Young, Gifted and Black in January 1969 was Cicely Tyson.  Others who appeared on the stage were Kevin Bacon, Barbara Streisand and Gene Hackman.

The theater was in bad shape in 1994 when it closed its doors.  It sat vacant for two years before actress, singer and dancer Angelina Fiordellisi purchased the property for $1.7 million and refurbished it for another $3 million.  (Two years later, in 1998, she opened an even tinier theater, the Alternative Space, next door.)

Unfortunately, the Cherry Lane Theatre found itself $250,000 in debt in 2010.  In December Fiordellisi announced that she intended to sell.   But once again, reaction was swift.  On August 24, 2011 Fiordellisi reported that a "steady stream of theater bookings" had flowed in.  She told reporters that the entire debt would most likely be erased within the year.

The historical significance of Alexander McLachlan's 1836 brewery building certainly is not based on its architectural beauty.  And while its piecemeal alterations and no-nonsense industrial personality create an undeniable charm; it is the story of the nearly 100-year old Cherry Lane Theatre here that makes the Commerce Street building an important piece of Greenwich Village and American theater history.

photographs by the author

Twin Sisters on Commerce Street

Linger in Greenwich Village long enough and you will hear the local story of the two mirror-image free-standing houses at 39 and 41 Commerce Street.  The enchanting tale tells of a sea captain with two feuding daughters.  He built them matching houses joined by a walled garden with few windows on the garden sides so the sisters would not have to see one another.

It is a wonderful story.  But it's not true.

In fact the two houses were built as an investment in 1832 by a New Jersey milkman, Peter Huyler.  Greenwich Village was growing quickly as businesses and banks moved north from Lower Manhattan to escape cholera and yellow fever epidemics in the early 1800s.  In 1826 paving on Commerce Street was started.  By the following year it extended to the point where Commerce curves into Barrow Street.  At the curve a 72-foot nearly-rectangular plot was available for development.

Huyler's houses originally had peaked roofs with dormers -- the fashion for mansard roofs being decades away -- and the doorways faced the street.  The houses provided Huyler with a steady income as he rented them to middleclass families.  The commodius shared garden may have had roses and other flowers, but in all probability vegetables grew there as well.

After his death, Huyler's heirs modernized the homes in 1873 by retaining Daniel Topping Atwood to make some changes.  Atwood was at the height of his career, the main thrust of his work being large Queen Anne-style homes outside of metropolitan areas.  He had already written Atwood's Country & Suburban Houses and Atwood's Modern American Homesteads, both published in 1871.  His commission for the twin houses could not have come inexpensively.

Although the mansard roofs had been added, the doorways still faced the street in this view.  photo New York Historical Society

Atwood's renovation replaced the peaked roofs with fashionable mansards, essentially adding a full story.

By the first decades of the 20th Century both structures had been divided into apartments and sometime before 1932 the doorways migrated from Commerce Street to the garden.  In 1948 a Greenwich Village businessman and amateur photographer, James G. Lambrakis, converted No. 41 back to a private house.  Today it is still in private hands.

Although No. 39 remains broken into apartments with the obligatory fire escape as well as unsightly window air conditioners the charming 19th Century feeling remains.

The twin sisters of Commerce Street with their picturesque linking walled garden create one of the most charismatic corners of the Village.

non-credited photographs taken by the author