The Lost 1812 Washington Hall - 282 Broadway

Lithographer George Hayward produced this lithograph in 1853.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

On Independence Day 1809, the Washington Benevolent Society laid the cornerstone of Washington Hall on the southeast corner of Broadway and Reade Street.  (The 1876 Centennial, Illustrated commented, "in earlier times the Negro Burying Ground was located here.")  John McComb Jr., whose City Hall was rising a block to the south, was responsible for the design.

Edwin C. Hill explained in the 1922 The Historical Register, "Although intended to be used as a public hall for meetings and assemblies, it was also kept as a hotel."  Washington Hall would be considered one of the finest structures in the city. 

Construction would take four years to complete.  On July 3, 1812, the Building Committee was disbanded, "except so far as respects a settlement of claims," reported The Evening Post.  The "claims" were the workers' salaries, materials and such necessary to complete the building.  Those, said the article, would be "presented to Mr. John McComb, Junr."

Five months later, an announcement in The Evening Post on December 29 read:

This elegant and spacious Building, situated in Broadway, corner of Reed-Street [sic], is now nearly completed; and will be Let or Leased from the first of May next, or sooner if required.  It is well calculated for a splendid Hotel, having forty one Rooms, thirty-two of which are supplied with fire places.

The article deemed the large 35-by-56 foot meeting room as "the largest and most elegantly finished in the city; and has a large orchestra finished in superior style."  (The "orchestra" was the balcony for musicians.)  There were also six "elegantly finished" rooms for "dining or supper parties."  Two of them were connected by folding doors for larger affairs.  

Americana Illustrated, January 1912 (copyright expired)

Daniel W. Crocker had answered that ad.  He leased the building and on October 18, 1813 announced in The New-York Evening Post that Washington Hall, "is now opened for the accommodation of the public as a Hotel."  He described it as being, "replete with every convenience."  Somewhat oddly, guests would not be sleeping in Washington Hall proper.  Crocker wrote, "The rooms are spacious and airy, and the bed-rooms (in a building separate from the Hotel) are neat, convenient and retired, with one bed in each room."

On the ground floor was the Coffee Room, "in which the daily papers will be kept and which will be open to the public," said Crocker.  He noted that it and the public dining room opened onto Broadway.  On the Reade Street side was the Porter Room, which Crocker described as "not excelled for convenience and cosiness [sic]," adding, "Here refreshments (of every sort) may be had at the shortest notice."  Crocker described the main Assembly Room on the second floor as "the most elegant and spacious" in New York City or, "perhaps in the United States."

Edwin C. Hill explained that the Washington Benevolent Society "was not organized as a political association, its members were mostly of the Federal Party."  Because of that, Washington Hall would become the headquarters of the Federal Party.  

Five months before the hotel was opened for business, the Assembly Hall saw its first grand event.  The United States and Great Britain were engaged in the War of 1812.  On February 22, 1812, Captain James Lawrence's USS Hornet sank the HMS Peacock, an 18-gun Royal Navy warship.  Lawrence and his crew visited New York City in May 1813 and the City Council hosted a lavish banquet in his honor.  (One month later, during the battle in which he famously ordered "Don't give up the ship!", Lawrence was fatally wounded.)

Another lavish affair linked to the war was held in the Assembly Room the following year.  Valentine's Manuel of Old New York would recall in 1921:

One of the most notable events of its history was when in 1814 a magnificent ball was given to celebrate the longed-for restoration of peace between England and America.  The superb ballroom was magnificently decorated and was crowded with a brilliant company of the elite of old New York.  The newspapers of the day described the scene as "a picture of feminine loveliness, beauty, fashion and elegance not to be surpassed in America.

Among the groups that rented rooms here was the Bread and Cheese Club, a literary group founded by Fenimore Cooper in 1824.  In its February 16, 1920 issue, The Mentor noted that the club "took its name from the fact that candidates were balloted for by bread and cheese."  Among its members were William Cullen Bryant, Henry Halleck and Gulian Verplanck.

The hotel portion hosted notable figures, none more so than President Martin Van Buren who stayed here in 1839.  On July 7, he was visited by Hannah Gouge.  The 104-year-old, according to The Morning Herald, "retains the possession of all her faculties, and has a most perfect and vivid recollection of her visit to General Washington."  Hannah, who lost three sons in the Revolution, had been presented to every President except Andrew Jackson.

Washington Hall continued to be the venue of glittering balls, prestigious banquets, meetings and entertainments.  On January 26, 1844, for instance, separate articles in the New-York Daily Tribune announced the "special meeting of the Third Ward Clay Club;" an upcoming concert by Sophie Gjertz, "pianist to the Royal Family of Denmark;" and a lecture "of Mr. Shea" that would "possess the deepest interest to lovers of Ireland."

At the time of the articles, the building had recently been "repaired and fitted up at considerable expense," according to the New York Herald, which added it was "decorated in a most superb manner."

Both Sides of Broadway, From Bowling Green to Central Park, New York City, 1910 (copyright expired)

The Assembly Room was booked for a ball on July 5, 1844.  At 7:00 that morning, a small fire was discovered in "one of the chimneys at the back of the building," as reported by the New York Herald.  It was quickly put out and forgotten.  Then, about three hours later, "it was found that the roof at the back immediately over the upper bedrooms was in flames."  The fire spread rapidly and several fire engines were on the scene within minutes.  The newspaper said the firefighters were "followed by a great mob whose evident object was plunder, for they kept running about from room to room making 'confusion worse confounded,' breaking the furniture and pilfering little articles that were lying about."  The New York Herald said that firefighters warned the intruders that they would be trapped by flames if they did not leave "and in a very short time the building was comparatively cleared of these blackguards."

In the meantime, employees rushed to salvage valuable items, like the large portrait of George Washington, some mirrors and furniture.  The New York Herald said in part:

The ball-room was kept locked until the roof began to fall in, and the flames to make their appearance...It was found impossible to save the splendid chandeliers with which this room was adorned, in consequence of the burning fragments which was [sic] continually falling, and the beams from which they were suspended having become ignited.  In a short time afterwards the chandeliers fell, and were utterly destroyed.

On October 16, 1844, The Evening Post reported, "Washington Hall (or rather the ruins of Washington Hall) was sold yesterday for $62,500 to Mr. Stewart, dry goods merchant, of Broadway, who will convert it into handsome stores."  (Department store mogul Alexander Turney Stewart was among the nation's wealthiest merchants.)

On the night of April 7, 1845, Mayor Philip Hone wrote in his journal that Stewart "is preparing to erect on the ground a dry goods store, spacious and magnificent beyond anything of the kind in New York."  He noted, "In removing the rubbish after the hall was burned the corner stone was brought to light and exhumed this morning."

On the site of Washington Hall, Stewart erected his "Marble Palace," which, enlarged, survives.

from the collection of the New York Public Library

The Mori Restaurant Building - 144-146 Bleecker Street

 

In 1830, Thomas E. Davis began erecting what would be fashionable homes on both sides of Bleecker Street between Thompson and Laurens Street (later West Broadway and then LaGuardia Place).  As they neared completion in 1831, he began a similar project, lining both sides of East 8th Street between Second and Third Avenues with upscale residences.  A consummate marketer, he lobbied the city to rename the two blocks, hoping to enhance their sense of exclusivity.  In 1833 his Bleecker Street block was renamed Carroll Place, and in 1835 the East 8th Street block became St. Mark's Place.

Each of the Carroll Place homes was 25-feet wide and three-and-a-half stories tall.  In February 1833, just before 146 Bleecker Street was renumbered 7 Carroll Place, an advertisement in The Evening Post offered the house for rent:

The house was erected in 1830, in the most elegant and substantial manner, and is three stories high, of brick and slated roof.  There is a building in the rear containing a tea room and library, and a well and cistern in the yard.  The house is every way calculated for a large and fashionable private family.

That house saw a relatively rapid turnover in well-to-do tenants until it was sold for $10,000 to Dr. William R. Power in January 1845.  The price, equal to about $430,000 in 2026, reflected the exclusivity of the block.

Power was born in Ireland in 1798 and was described as a "distinguished practitioner."  His wife, the former Mercy Hepburn, had recently died and his purchasing of 7 Carroll Place might have had much do to with his marital plans.  He married Aliana Diane Worthington in 1846.

Although William had no children with either of his wives, in 1857 lawyer John T. Power was listed at the address.  He was presumably a relative.

William R. Power died "after a short but severe illness," according to the New-York Daily Tribune, on September 14, 1858.  His funeral was held in the parlor on the 16th.

Aliana Power left Carroll Place shortly afterward.  An auction of the furnishings held on March 8, 1859, hinted at the high-end lifestyles of the Carroll Place residents.  Included were "rosewood parlor suits, covered in rich silk brocatel and plush...Chinese china vases, chandeliers, sideboard, morocco arm chairs," and such.

In the meantime, the house next door at 5 Carroll Street was originally home to the Henry Floyd Tallmage family.  Born in Connecticut on June 11, 1787, he and his wife, Maria Canfield Adams, had five children.   The family sold the house to Dr. John Augustine Smith on April 15, 1841.

Born in 1782, Smith had served as president of the College of William & Mary from 1814 to 1826.  (He resigned when his proposal to move the college from Richmond to Williamsburg was refused.)  Now back in New York City, he became president of the College of Physicians and Surgeons in 1831.

Dr. John Augustine Smith, from the collection of the New York Society Library

Smith married Lettice Lee in 1809 and they had five children, at least one of whom, Richard Augustine (who went by his middle name), lived with his parents.  Augustine was in the paper business on Nassau Street.

In addition to his practice and his lecturing on anatomy at the College of Physicians and Surgeons, Dr. Smith edited the Medical and Physiological Journal.  Among his works were the 1840 Select Discourse on the Functions of the Nervous System, his 1846 The Mutations of the Earth, and Moral and Physical Science, published in 1853.  Notably, he was an outspoken supporter of scientific racism, that used phrenology (the "science" of reading bumps on one's skull) to rationalize white supremacy.  He was a vocal exponent of repatriating Blacks to Africa. 

By the outbreak of the Civil War, things had changed in the neighborhood.  No longer ultra-fashionable, affluent residents left Carroll Place and in 1860 the block reverted to Bleecker Street (although both addresses would be used for some time).  In 1861, rented rooms were being offered in both 144 and 146 Bleecker Street.

In 1870, Thomas N. and William B. Doutney established an "eatinghouse," The St. Lawrence, in the basement of 144 Bleecker Street.   Unfortunately, as Thomas recalls in his 1893 autobiography Thomas N. Doutney: His Life-Struggle and Triumphs:

I listened to the bad advice of a dissolute companion, and introduced liquor on my premises, first secretly, then openly, as an article of traffic.  In short, my restaurant became, what too many restaurants already are, a drinking-saloon, a cursed rum-shop.

Thomas and his "dear, good brother William," lost the business.  The saloon was taken over by Korne & Bere.  

In the meantime, the conditions within the rented rooms of the once-luxurious mansions were ghastly.  An article in the New York Herald on February 7, 1871 described the plight of a "woman and five little children at No. 144 Bleecker street."  The journalist said, "No food or fuel has been seen in the little room which these miserable ones occupy for several days, and yesterday the mother, rendered desperate, attempted suicide."

On July 20, 1896, the New York Journal reported, "Women, some of them wives and mothers, who had been caught in the raid on the pool room [an illegal race betting den] at No. 146 Bleecker street, Saturday night, were prisoners in the Jefferson Market Court yesterday."  Prior to the time of the article, the parlor windows of the house had been replaced by bay windows, as noted in a sketch in the article.

In 1896, an illegal betting den occupied the basement of 146 Bleecker.  The elegant Federal doorway was intact, and bay windows had been added, most likely prior to 1861.  New York Journal, July 20, 1896 (copyright expired)

In 1884, a year after arriving in New York City from Florence, Italy, Placido Mori opened his "eating place" in the former Korne & Bere saloon space in 144 Bleecker Street.  The Journal described Mori & Lorenzi's cafe in 1896 as "a cheap restaurant and drinking place much frequented by the Italians of the district."

It became a meeting place for labor and political groups.  On November 24, 1891, for instance, The Evening World remarked, "The Columbus Labor Club, cloak makers...has its headquarters at present at 144 Bleecker street."  On October 27, 1898, the Third Assembly District Republicans held an "Italian parade through the Italian colony and a meeting at 144 Bleecker street," as reported by The Sun.

In November 1900, authorities refused to allow the play Senza Patria (or Without a Country), written by anarchist Pietro Gori, to open.  Throngs of angry native Italians, many of them anarchists, rebelled.  The New York Times reported, "The Anarchists then held an impromptu indignation meeting on the sidewalk, and then several hundred went to Mori & Lorenzi's café, 144 Bleecker Street, which was by common consent designated as a meeting place."

No. 144 was sold several times before Mori purchased the building in 1910.  The Italian immigrant had done well for himself.  On April 23, 1920, the New York Herald reported, "Placido Mori is the buyer of the residence at 21 Washington Square North."  It was one of the most fashionable addresses in New York City.

Among Mori's regular patrons at the time was architect Raymond Hood.  Their close owner-patron relationship would soon become owner-client.  On December 12, 1920, The New York Times reported that Placido Mori "recently bought the adjoining parcel at 146 to add to his establishment.  The article mulled, "The supporters of prohibition may discern in this fact that the prevention of serving red wine, without which no Italian restaurant meal was supposed to be complete...has not yet driven the habitués of these eating places to other resorts."

Mori hired Raymond Hood to combine the houses and remodel the exterior.  He placed a row of Doric columns along the sidewalk level and added a setback penthouse.

Famed photographer Berenice Abbott took this photograph in November 1935.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The observation made by The New York Times that Prohibition had not affected the Italian restaurant was premature.  As it turned out, Mori went on dispensing alcoholic beverages.  On September 16, 1922, the newspaper reported that Prohibition Chief John D. Appleby "sent seven general dry agents yesterday afternoon to Mori's Restaurant."

In the room in the rear of the second floor the agents seized a large quantity of liquors, wines and beer.  The agents said they never saw a more sorrowful staff of waiters than they passed in the dining room as the seized goods were carried out.  The sight of good wines leaving the restaurant, famous in the days gone by for its wine, was more than some of the waiters could stand.

Only four months later, on January 15, 1923, The New York Times reported on another raid.  After seizing 58 bottles of wine and ten bottles of whisky, Placido Mori was arrested.  The article said that police "then went upstairs to the apartment of Louis Funai...from which they took away 18 bottles of champagne, 247 bottles of wine, 15 bottles of gin, 4 bottles of kimmel [sic] and one gallon of wine."

Placido Mori died on July 18, 1927.  In reporting his death, The New York Times remarked that his restaurant "had become noted as a picturesque resort."

Living upstairs at the time was sculptor Thomas Hudson Jones.  He and architect Lorimer Rich were cooperatively working on designs for the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington.  Jones was still living here in December 1928 when Secretary of War Dwight F. Davis announced that their design had been accepted.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Albert Mori operated the restaurant until January 1938, when he filed for bankruptcy.  The New York Times remarked, "The restaurant started as a small bar and eating place.  It expanded until it finally occupied the entire building, a rambling, old-fashioned structure."

The space became Free World House as early as 1944, operated by the International Free World Association.  On June 4, 1944, the group announced that a program of "democratic principles for Europe" would be put into effect "as soon as the Allied armies invade the continent."  A less political event had taken place a month earlier when, on May 28, The New York Times reported, "The second open show of the Village Art Center is current[ly] at Free World House...with more than a hundred oils, water-colors and drawings, by almost as many artists."

It was possibly during the occupancy of the anti-Fascist International Free World Association that five murals by Louis Quintanilla were installed.  Quintanilla arrived in New York in 1938 to create his grouping, called Love Peace Hate War.  (Somewhat ironically, he was the house guest of war correspondent Jay Allen in Placido Mori's former home on Washington Square.)  The paintings were commissioned by the Spanish Government for the Spanish Pavilion of the 1939 World's Fair.  The individual panels were Flight, Pain, Hunger, Soldiers and Destruction.

But the artwork would never be exhibited at the fair.  The Spanish Republic fell and the Fascist Francisco Franco regime demanded that the paintings be returned to Spain.  Reportedly, Quintanilla told officials that a flood in his studio had destroyed the panels.  It appears that he sold or donated the works to the Free World House.

Quintanilla's Hunger (top) and Soldiers, were two of the panels installed at Free World House.  images from The Art and World of Louis Quintanilla

The Free World House remained here until 1956, when the building was converted to the Renata Theatre in the lower two floors and apartments and offices on the top two.  As construction neared completion on November 14, 1956, The New York Times explained that the venue would present "contemporary European plays."  The auditorium would hold an audience of 250.

Among the last performances in the Renata Theatre was a one-person production, An Evening With Ethel Waters, described by The New York Times on April 9, 1959 as a "musical memory."

from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Within a year, the space had been converted to a movie theater, the Bleecker Street Cinema.  It was a neighborhood fixture for decades, finally closing in August 1989.  On November 4 the following year, The New York Times columnist Christopher Gray mentioned, "It is now a gay porno house."

It was during that rather seedy period that the Quintanilla murals were "rediscovered."  On one of the panels, a black arrow reading "Exit" had been scrawled.  According to the artist's son, Paul, "In the early nineties an attempt was made to retrieve them, but the amount of money offered didn't satisfy the owner of the pornographic movie house."  The paintings, therefore, remained in abused condition until February 2, 2007 when the University of Cantabria in Santander, Spain purchased them.  They were restored and now hang at the university. 

The ground floor space became the Elbow Room around 1997.  Offering live music, it remained into the 2000s.  A renovation to the storied building in 2011 resulted in retail space on the ground floor and apartments above.

photographs by the author

The 1826 Abraham B. Vanderpoel House - 38 Dominick Street

 

photo via New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission

In 1821 the by-then fetid canal, originally established to drain the swampy Lispenard Meadow, was covered over, creating Canal Street.  Quickly afterward, streets to the north opened and development began.  Among the first streets to open was Dominick Street, named in honor of George Dominick who fled France in the mid-18th century and became a vestryman of Trinity Church and a captain of the militia.

The new street sat upon land owned by Sarah Livingston, the wife of Robert Livingston.  She had inherited it from her grandfather, Anthony Lispenard.  On March 10, 1826, she sold 12 vacant lots along Dominick Street to Smith Bloomfield who filled them with prim, two-and-a-half story brick-faced homes.  

Among them was 39 Dominick Street.  (Confusingly and inexplicably, the odd and even street numbers were flipped in 1867, and No. 39 got the new address of 38.)  Like its neighbors, its Federal design included a doorway flanked by fluted wooden columns, narrow sidelights and a generous transom.  Two dormers pierced the peaked roof.

Abraham Barent Vanderpoel moved his family into the house in 1827, apparently renting from Bloomfield.  Born in 1788, he listed his profession as "custom house officer."  He and his wife, the former Harriet Goodwin, would have three children: Mary Vanburen, Sarah and Barent. 

The Vanderpoels left the house around 1835, initiating a series of occupants.  Dry goods merchant James L. Brinckerhoff was here in 1836, followed by Isaac N. Seymour and his family by 1840.  Seymour was the treasurer of the Delaware & Hudson Canal Company.  The family remained through 1858.

Abby J. Gorham, a widow, moved into the house in 1859 with her son Shabael C. Gorham.  The family had deep American roots, tracing their origins to John de Gorram who arrived on the Mayflower.  Never married, Shabael died at the age of 41 on November 23, 1861.  The New York Times noted, "Funeral services will be held at the house of his mother, No. 39 Dominick-st., on Monday."

The family of fish dealer Samuel H. Wood occupied the house from 1863 until 1867.  On February 23 that year an announcement in the New-York Tribune reported that the property "now known as No. 38 in Dominick street" would be auctioned.  It was purchased by Samuel Giveans Trusdell.

Trusdell was a partner in the coffee business Trusdell & Phelps.  He married Phebe Jane Edsall in 1863.  Born in 1835 and 1840, respectively, they would have one child, Samuel Edsall, who was born in the house in 1868.

The family would remain here for decades, taking in at least one boarder over the years.  Katie E. Moore lived with the Trusdells in 1884.  She was a teacher in the primary department of Grammar School No. 10 on Wooster Street.

In 1886, the home's Federal architecture was decidedly passé.  On April 3, the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that Phebe (who was the owner of record) had hired architects and builders J. Hankinson's Son to raise the attic to a full story.  The renovations cost the Trusdells $1,100, or about $37,800 in 2026.  Interestingly, while the contractors gave the remodeled house a fashionable Italianate cornice, it did not touch the vintage doorway.

As late as 1940, the doorway, with its slender columns, was essentially unchanged since 1826.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Samuel Edsall Trusdell died at the age of 28 on April 29, 1896.  His father survived him by four years, dying in the Dominick Street house on December 27, 1900 at the age of 65.  

It is unclear how long Phebe, who died in 1926, remained here.  In 1929, George Tombini leased 38 Dominick Street, and by 1940 the Campone and De Sapio families shared the house.

It was well-filled.  Pasquale Campone and his wife, Antonette, had five children, Rose, Pasquaela, Doris, Betty and Anthony.  Gerard De Sapio was married to Antonette's sister, Marinetta.  An Italian immigrant, he owned a trucking business.  The couple had two sons.

Anthony Capone was born in 1914.  He worked as a shipping clerk for the Equitable Trading Corporation, a wholesale liquor distributor on Hudson Street.  In 1936 he and eight other employees devised a scheme to augment their salaries.  It worked for several years, but then on July 13, 1940, The New York Times reported that the group had been arrested for the theft of "about $50,000 of liquors from the concern in the last four years."

Anthony's cousin would make a name for himself in New York politics.  Born on December 10, 1908, Carmine Gerard De Sapio attended St. Alphonsus parochial school and briefly attended Fordham College.  He often loaded freight at his father's business.  While in his teens, he contracted iritis, an inflammation of the eyes.  It necessitated his wearing dark glasses for the rest of his life, and they became his trademark.

The teen became involved with the Daniel Finn's Huron Club in Greenwich Village.  It was a center of Tammany power within the district.  De Sapio became Finn's "lieutenant."   By 1937, he had amassed enough power within Tammany to organize the Tamawa Club, challenging Finn's leadership in the district.  

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Carmine De Sapio married Theresa Natale in 1937 and he moved out of 38 Dominick Street.  By 1949 he was the "boss" of Tammany Hall.  His downfall came in the 1960s when, according to The New York Times, "Denounced as corrupt and authoritarian, he was abandoned by onetime allies."  In 1969 he was sent to prison, convicted of bribery charges.

In 1954, the Capone and De Sapio families converted the ground floor to a restaurant.  When Marinetta De Sapio died at the age of 76 on October 25, 1965, The New York Times remarked that she had lived "for many years at 38 Dominick Street."

Around 1987, the restaurant space became Sagebrush Canyon, which featured live jazz music.  By then, the ground floor windows had been replaced by a single opening.  

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The restaurant Alison on Dominick Street opened in 1990, its atmosphere described by The New York Times as "harmonious and comfortable and the soft lighting very seductive."  It remained until 2002.

The four 1826 houses were considered for landmark designation in 2012.  No. 38 is at the right.  photograph by Jason Kessler

A renovation completed in 2010 returned 38 Dominick Street to a single family home.  As a nod to the now lost Federal-style doorway, two disproportionate Ionic columns were shoehorned into the entrance.  Today its entablature is inscribed "Post Modern" in Greek lettering.

photograph by Jason Kessler

It and the other three remaining houses of Smith Bloomfield's 1826 row were considered by the Landmark Preservation Commission for landmark designation in May 2012.  The owners of No. 38 strongly testified against its designation, citing the drastic alterations to the nearly 200-year-old building.  The LPC agreed and only 32 to 36 Dominick Street were given landmark status.

many thanks to reader Jason Kessler for suggesting this post

The Lost Julius W. Tiemann House - 2648 Broadway

 

When Herman Newell Tiemann (son of Julius) took this photograph in 1901, the end of venerable house was near.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

Sprawling summer estates dotted the upper portion of Manhattan Island in the 18th century.  Others were established following the Revolution, like that of Archibald Gracie on the East Side, begun in 1798.  Around the same time, a dignified, two-story frame country house was erected on the Bloomingdale Road far north of the city.  Its Federal style architecture included a raised basement, columned veranda, and an octagonal cupula atop the slightly hipped roof.

An advertisement in the New York Herald on September 19, 1854 read:

To Let--A large house and four acres of land, on Bloomingdale road, between 100th and 101st streets, and possession given immediately.

The tenant filled the house with elegant furnishings.  When the family moved out in April 1868, an auction was held of "all the magnificent household furniture in the mansion," as worded by the announcement.  Among the items were "rich rosewood and walnut Chamber [i.e. bedroom] and Parlor suits; Velvet and Brussels Carpets, Pier Mirrors, rosewood Piano," and such.

At the time of the ad, Julius William Tiemann was a partner in in D. F. Tiemann & Co., founded by his father Johan Anton (known as Anthony) Tiemann in 1807.  The firm operated the Manhattan Paint & Color Works near the Hudson River around 120th Street.  Born in 1817, Tiemann grew up in the family's town house at 40 East 23rd Street and in their summer home in Manhattanville, which was not far from the plant.

The Illustrated American Biograph, 1852 (copyright expired)

Julius W. Tiemann married Marie Antoinette Megie on March 28, 1860.  The couple would have 12 children.  Tiemann purchased the Bloomingdale Road estate while retaining their town home at 125 West 43rd Street.

Outside of the paint business, Tiemann was highly involved in civic affairs.  He was, for instance, the president of the Twenty-second Ward Council of Political Reform in 1871.  In August 1881, he co-founded The Drug, Paint and Chemical Exchange, described by New Remedies as "a new organization in this city to facilitate the business of these allied industries."

By the mid-1890s, the Tiemann's residence that once sat upon four acres was surrounded by business and residential buildings.  Around 1896, Tiemann sold the property to N. Reynal, who lived in White Plains, New York.  He converted the house to The Arbor, an inn and meeting place. 

The Arbor was the gathering spot for political dinners and meetings.  On October 30, 1899, for instance, the New-York Tribune reported that the Independent Club of the 21st District would hold a dinner that night.  The New York Times noted, "The Rev. Dr. John P. Peters, pastor of St. Michael's Episcopal Church, and Acting President of the Club, presided."  The location was highly convenient to Reverend Peters, since he listed his address here, apparently renting rooms upstairs.  (The same year that that dinner was held, the former Bloomingdale Road was renamed Broadway and The Arbor received the address of 2648 Broadway.)

Decades after the Tiemann house was demolished, filmmaker Stanley Kubrick painted a romanticized conception.  This black-and-white depiction was published in Look magazine's article "Art by Celebrities."  via the Museum of the City of New York.

Other organizations that used The Arbor as their headquarters were The Speakers' Club and The Citizens' Union.  When the latter held its convention on October 1, 1901, The New York Times remarked that it "was held at 'The Arbor,' 2,648 Broadway.  There were about sixty delegates present, and reporters were barred."

The end of the line for the venerable house came in 1907.  On January 9, The New York Times reported that the Franklin Building Company had leased the blockfront on the "east side of Broadway, between 100th and 101st Streets" for 21 years.  The newly formed company "will erect stores and offices on the Broadway front and a garage on the remainder of the plot" on the site, said the article.

Those resultant structures were apparently what were known as "taxpayers"--most often low rise, temporary buildings erected to garner enough rental income to pay the property taxes.  They were demolished in 1925 and replaced with a 15-story and penthouse apartment building.

The Lost William Devoe House - 84 Carmine Street

 

The extension of Seventh Avenue resulted in a chamfered corner.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

Construction of the new Trinity Church was completed in 1790.  It replaced the 1697 original that was burned during the Revolution.  Historian Martha Lamb, in her 1877 History of the City of New York, noted that among the vestrymen who resolved "to set apart a pew in Trinity Church for the President" on March 8, 1790, was Nicholas Carman.  

Carman owned a large amount of land north of the city.  Three decades after he signed that resolution, streets were laid out on his property, one of which was named Carmine street, named for him despite the misspelling.  As early as 1827, Federal style homes were being erected along Carmine Street.  

Typical of them was 84 Carmine Street a two-and-a-half story, brick-faced house.  Twenty-feet wide, its entrance above a two-step porch most likely had narrow leaded sidelights and a transom.  Piercing the peaked roof were two dormers in the front and one in the rear.  The muntins of their round-arched windows created elegant, interlocking pointed arches.

As early as 1851, William H. Devoe and his wife, the former Susanna Hadden, occupied 84 Carmine Street.  Devoe was a principal in Devoe & Taylor, shipjoiners.  (Shipjoiners employed skilled craftsmen to manufacture the interior finished carpentry of vessels--like the cabinetry of staterooms, cabins, and such.)  

Living with the couple was Susanna's widowed mother, Catherine Hadden.  They rented unused rooms, as well.  An advertisement in the New-York Tribune on February 24, 1852 read, "To Let--The upper part of the House No. 84 Carmine-st.  Apply from 11 A.M. to 3 P.M.  Rent $160."  (The figure would translate to about $550 per month in 2026.)

The Haddens' tenants in 1851 were Albert Weber and his wife.  Weber was a well-known pianomaker on West Broadway.  The following year, August H. and Harriet N. Poe moved in.  Tragically, on Christmas morning that year, their only son, Charles Augustus, died.  His funeral was held in the house the following afternoon.

A son, William H. Devoe Jr., was born here on June 3, 1853.  

Catharine Hadden died at the age of 69 on September 21 "after a short illness," according to the New York Daily Herald.  Her funeral was held in the parlor on the morning of the 23rd. 

It might be that Catharine was the only musician in the family.  A week before her death, an advertisement in the New York Daily Herald read:

Great Sacrifice--An exceedingly fine-toned rosewood pianoforte, not three months used and fully warranted, with stool and cover, will be disposed of at an immense sacrifice, at 84 Carmine street, (on the Sixth avenue railroad).

(The Sixth Avenue streetcar was the closest public transportation at the time.  Varick Street ended at Houston Street and Hudson Street did not have a streetcar line.)

There would soon be another funeral in the house.  Little William H. Devoe Jr. died on November 22, 1855 at two years old.

The Devoes left Carmine Street around 1858, and their former home became a boarding house.  Living here that year were John H. Cooke, who listed his profession as "segars;" seaman Lewis Turin; and a newly-arrived woman from France.  She advertised on April 25, 1858:

A Parisian lady, having great experience in teaching her language, wants a few more scholars for private lessons.  Terms moderate.  Inquire at 84 Carmine street, near Varick.

The Moses Sammis family moved into the house in 1860.  Born in 1819, he and his wife, the former Harriet Anna Crocker, had nine sons and a daughter.  Son Clark Sammis would recall to the Brooklyn Eagle in 1909 that at the time of his parents' marriage, Moses "was known through Brooklyn in the old days as Colonel M. Sammis, and the product of the marriage was a very large family."

Moses Sammis's brothers were well-known in theatrical circles.  William and George were theatrical managers (George was the manager of the Grand Opera House).  Moses, on the other hand, took a more civic job.  He was a letter carrier when the family moved into 84 Carmine Street, and by 1864 he was a tax collector for the city.  

The parlor was yet again the scene of a funeral on February 21, 1864.  Three days earlier, Jay J. Sammis, the youngest son of Moses and Harriet, had died at the age of four.  Later that same year, the Sammis family moved to Brooklyn.

Perhaps because 84 Carmine Street was relatively remote from major streets, its parlor floor was not converted to a shop.  Owner John Flanagan leased the house.  Printer George Gregory and his family lived here from 1868 to '69, followed by another printer, Peter Vanbeuren.  Flanagan's tenants continued to rent unneeded space.  An advertisement in the New York Daily Herald on April 12, 1868 offered, "Furnished comfortable attic room to let--For one or two gentlemen or a single lady, for light housekeeping."

The advertisement was telling.  Because the attic was now being rented, the families obviously no longer had a live-in servant.  And offering a room to an unmarried lady was shocking at the time. It suggests that the neighborhood was already declining.

Joseph Lamb and his family moved in in 1873.  Lamb was in the furniture business with locations at 59 Carmine Street and 223 West Houston.  He was a partner with Richard Lamb, presumably a brother.  In 1878, son Frederick William Lamb was enrolled in the City College of New York.

While the previous tenants did not have a servant, the Lambs did.  An advertisement on May 20, 1880, read, "Wanted--A girl to do general housework in a private family; must be willing to go in the country; wages $12 per month."  (The monthly salary would equal $380 today.  And the mention of going to the country disclosed that the Lambs maintained a summer home.)

John Flanagan sold the house at auction on November 23, 1885 for $9,300 (about $313,000 today).  The ground floor became home to the Saint Bartholomew's Hospital and Dispensary following its incorporation in December 1888.  Its presence reflected the changes within the Greenwich Village neighborhood.  In its January 26, 1889 issue, The Medical Record reported that the dispensary provided "the free treatment of the diseases of the genito-urinary organs, both venereal and non-venereal, and of the skin."

The house was sold again in November 1898.  Mrs. Delli Fitzsimmons, who leased it in May 1904, operated it as a rooming house.  The following year, on December 1, 1905, the New-York Tribune reported that the tenants "were thrown into a panic last night when fire broke out in the cellar and filled the building with smoke."  Patrolmen Bunn and Walker rushed into the house and woke up the residents.  "As soon as the tenants were aroused they rushed from their apartments, shouting and struggling to get to the street," said the article.

Mary Sexon lived in the attic.  When she did not respond to the rapping of the policemen's nightsticks on the door, they broke it in.  "Mrs. Sexton was lying unconscious, overcome by the smoke which filled the rooms," reported the New-York Tribune.  She was removed to St. Vincent's Hospital where she was revived.

As early as 1910 a Frenchwoman, Jeanette Borrine, operated the "lodging house," as described by The New York Times.  Lodging houses were the lowest form of accommodations, and rooms were rented out on a daily basis.  No amenities other than a bed were provided.

On January 6 that year, a couple--Deaf Lilly and Billy the Gink--rented the attic room.  The New York Times explained, "the Frenchwoman, who had known her years ago, gave her lodging."  The newspaper said that Lilly once "was the beautiful wife of 'Big Barney' in the days when every one in McGurk's 'Suicide Hall' would push their tables back to the wall while the couple waltzed down the middle."  Lilly earned the nickname in those days as "The pride of the Stevedores."

But that was 15 or 20 years earlier.  "Big Barney" disappeared and Lilly resorted to prostitution to survive.  She was repeatedly arrested and sent to Blackwell's Island until, according to The New York Times, "she was scarcely admitted to the places where she had once reigned as queen."  Her new husband was a drunk and a brute.  The newspaper explained that he was known as Billy the Gink "because somebody once knocked out his right eye."

Two days after they moved in, another lodger, Maggie Whalen, told Jeanette Borrine, "Lilly took an awful beating to-night.  I could hear Billy walloping her."  On January 12, 1910, Borrine "began to worry at Lilly's non-appearance," so she entered the room.  The New York Times reported, "Deaf Lilly was found dead yesterday lying half under her bed in the little furnished room at the top floor."  The article said that police were looking for Billy the Gink.

At the time, discussions to extend Seventh Avenue (which began at 11th Street) south to Varick Street were being held.  In 1913, work began on a two-pronged project--the extension of the avenue and the construction of the Seventh Avenue subway.  Like a titan-sized lawn mower, the work cut a swatch through Greenwich Village, erasing scores of buildings and leaving others with sections sheared off.

No. 84 Carmine Street nearly escaped the project, although it skimmed a few feet off the western corner, resulting in the doorway and second-floor window to be placed at an angle.

84 Carmine Street (right) barely escaped the construction project.  Shelby White & Leon Levy Digital Library

Following the minor renovations, Vincenzo Cesareo moved into 84 Carmine Street.  He opened his Universal Scientific Institute in the ground floor.  Describing his business as a "school of hypnotism," he was also listed in the 1914 Directory of Publishers, Printers and Authors Issuing Books.

Cesareo's residency here would be short-lived.  On April 24, 1915, the New York Herald reported he was sentenced "to three months in the penitentiary for unlawfully practising [sic] medicine by hypnotizing patients into the belief that they were well."  The article said that Cesareo not only "used his own spiritual powers to persuade persons that his treatment was actually improving their health, but he employed his wife as the medium whose oracular utterances guided the patient to a cure."

A renovation completed in 1923 resulted in a commercial space on the first floor, home to the National Flexible Packing Co.'s general offices, and a single apartment in the upper floors.  

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The greatly altered, venerable structure survived until 1996, when it and the apartment building next door were replaced by a single-story structure.