The 1876 Geo. C. Flint Building -- Nos. 104-106 West 14th Street

In the years preceding the outbreak of Civil War, the block of West 14^th Street between Sixth and Seventh Avenues was lined with brick or brownstone-faced residences.  At the time No. 104 was home to John A. Nichols, Professor Natural Philosophy at the Free Academy of the City of New York.  He earned $1750 a year in 1853; the equivalent of about $55,000 in 2015.

Two decades is more than time enough to radically change a neighborhood in New York City; and by 1875 the once-residential West 14^th Street had become the center of the retail furniture district.  That year the already-successful George C. Flint & Co. leased the former Nichols residence and the house next door at No. 106, from owner John A. Hadden.

Two years earlier Hadden had commissioned the architectural firm of William Field & Son to erect a high-class commercial building nearby at Nos. 39-41 East 13^th Street.  He now hired the firm to erect a new store for George C. Flint & Co.   The resulting structure, completed in 1876, was a near match to the 13^th Street building.

The Italianate cast iron facades shared identical pilasters with knee-high fluting, shallow cornices separating each floor, and attractive and unusual cusps at the upper corners of each opening.  But No. 104-106 West 14^th Street flexed its individuality above the fifth floor.  Here artistic brackets upheld the cornice and a wonderful scalloped and decorated architrave mimicked the Victorian furniture sold by George C. Flint & Co.

When George C. Flint & Co. announced its opening at Nos. 104 and 106 West 14^th Street on April 10, 1876, it described itself simply as “Manufacturers of Good Furniture at Low Prices.”  It would not be long before the firm realized it had underestimated the floor space it required.  By December the firm leased the house next door at No. 108 and hired architect Richard C. Jones to build an extension to the rear and alter the pitch of the roof, at a cost of $3,000.

While the Flint firm extended into the house at No. 108 (right), it stopped short at heavy remodeling of the structure.

Neither the press nor the furniture-buying public seemed bothered by the architectural disparity between the two buildings.  On October 26, 1887 The Sun focused only on the furniture when it reported “The George C. Flint Company’s display of furniture at their warerooms, 104, 106, and 108 West Fourteenth street, is remarkable both for its rarity and the elegance of the designs.  In parlor furniture they have everything, from the many designs in carved antique oak, mahogany, sycamore, and olive woods, to the light and fanciful sets in white and gold, of the styles of Louise XIV, XV, and VI, with gilded spindles of lancewood and pretty gossip chairs.”

A European furniture designer, visiting New York at the time, was taken with the Flint building.  On May 19, 1888 Architecture and Building published his letter to the editor which said in part “Perhaps the store of least pretentious exterior is that of the Geo. C. Flint Co. of Fourteenth street, near Six avenue…Yet the show-rooms of this old-established firm are most extensive and the way the vast stock is assorted on the different floors is admirable.”

The writer was impressed impressed not only with the display of the furniture—arranged by floor as bedrooms, parlors, etc.--but by the demeanor of the staff.  “Another commendable feature of Flint’s store is that intending purchasers may visit these show-rooms without fear of being molested, so to speak, by idle salesmen.”

George C. Flint also sold accessories, like tapestries and carpeting, by other makers, many of them imported.   But the bulk of its furniture was designed and manufactured in its West 19^th Street factory. The company marketed the fact that, as the manufacturer, it eliminated the middle-man.  Its tag line was “Buy of the Maker.”

Customers indeed had a wide variety of prices and styles from which to choose.  An advertisement in The Evening World on October 28, 1889 boasted of “some twenty patterns” of parlor suits, “exceeding tasty, so very novel and elegant.”  Prices ranged from $75 to $150—the highest price equal to about $4,000 today.  An even broader selection was offered by the more than 50 different bedroom suits “in ash, natural cherry, antique oak, mahogany, &c, at from $18 to $600.” 

Like all successful furniture dealers, George C. Flint & Co. kept abreast of latest trends.  On April 2, 1892 The Evening World noted “It is the fad of the time to affect furniture of the long-ago period of Louis XIV, Louis XVI, and the turbulent days of unfortunate Marie Antoinette.  And in those styles it must be said that the George C. Flint Co., 104 West Fourteenth street, display a wondrously complete line.”

The newspaper felt one set stood out.  “A particularly beautiful chamber set in decorated, enameled white and gold strikes one’s vision with its soft cream tints harmoniously blended.  Such a suit of interior adornments would transform miladi’s boudoir into a dream of delight.”

A year later the New-York Tribune reported “There is a rage this season for inclosed bric-a-brac cabinets with heavy plate-glass shelves, and these are found in gold and mahogany.  One piece is a reproduction of the sideboard used in the Prince of Wales’s out-of-town house at Sandringham.  There are also some special patterns in bedroom and parlor furniture.”

By the time the Tribune made its comments, the furniture district was relocating from West 14^th Street to West 23^rd Street, at the opposite end of the Sixth Avenue Ladies’ Mile shopping district.  George C. Flint & Co. was busy erecting a new showroom building on West 23^rd Street at the time.  On August 22, 1894 The Evening World reported on the new George Flint building. “What is said to be the finest and most complete furniture store in this country was opened to the public for the first time this morning at 43 and 45 West Twenty-third street.” 

Undeterred by the migration of others, Brooklyn furniture dealer Cowperthwait & Co. branched into Manhattan by taking over the Flint leases on 14th Street.  The firm had been in business since 1807.  Now The Evening World explained “The business in Brooklyn has grown to such an extent that a New York City house became an absolute necessity.” 

Its showroom opened on September 12, 1894 and The New York Times urged customers to visit.  “There are no duplicate pieces of furniture in the establishment.  The store is, in fact, a great exhibition place.”

Like Flint, Cowperthwait & Co. offered a broad range of styles and prices.  The Times noted that parlor suites, for instances, ranged in price from $25 to $300.   The third floor was dedicated to floor coverings including, “Wilton, Moquettes, Axminster, body Brussels, and ingrain carpets, rugs, and tapestries, linoleum, and oilcloths.”

As the article pointed out, only samples were housed in the 14^th Street building.  Actual stock was shipped from the company’s immense factory and warehouse on West Street.   On December 16, 1894 The New York Times explained that “The huge furniture vans of Cowperthwait & Co. of 104 West Fourteenth Street are stored over night in a building a short distance from the firm’s stores.  Before daylight each morning a dozen men run the trucks down an inclined plane to the street.”

On that morning at 6:00 all the vans had hit the street except for the “Elephant” van.  It took four men to control the brake attached to the axle of the mammoth vehicle.  John Peterson stood in front to guide the van.  Then near-tragedy struck.

The New York Times reported “When half way down the plane the wheels clipped and Peterson was thrown.  The forward wheel passed over his legs and threw his body in such a position that his head lay in the pathway of the hind wheels.”

The panicked, injured man felt the rear wheel make contact with his neck as the truck slowly descended the ramp.  “He grasped the wheel, and by an effort threw himself forward and to one side just as the brakes gave way and the heavy van plunged forward, the hind wheel just grazing him.”

Having escaped death by a matter of seconds and inches, Peterson was taken to New-York Hospital where it was found his right leg was fractured in two places.  When Cowperthwait management heard of the accident, it telephoned the hospital instructing them “to give Peterson the best of care.”

The Times opined “The unfortunate man’s Christmas will be as happy as possible under the circumstances.”

Cowperthwait’s success was due, in part, to its extending credit to families who otherwise would not be able to afford new furniture.  The New-York Tribune, on February 28, 1897, said the policy “has always been predominate in this establishment” and was a “keystone of its success.”  The newspaper added “And the tens of thousands of paid-up accounts upon the Cowperthwait Co.’s books, many of them extending over years, represent and stand for just that number of homes whose existence the liberality of this firm has made possible.”

Credit, said the Tribune, “is not an 'open sesame’ to rogues, for nowhere are they detected more quickly, but to honest folk is extended every consideration and accommodation, for this firm’s credit system is designed for such alone and amply safeguarded against impositions.”

By the outbreak of World War I Cowperthwait had abandoned West 14^th Street.  The building became home to the Knickerbocker Mail Order Company until it was taken over by the U. S. Government as military barracks.  The War Department Annual Reports, 1919 noted “Barracks at 104-106 West Fourteenth Street were remodeled for the Division of Military Aeronautics.  A heating system to serve these barracks was also authorized.”

Peacetime returned the former furniture store to commercial use.    In 1925 architect Jacob Fisher remodeled the interior for the School for Printers’ Apprentices on two floors and printing operations on the fourth and fifth floors.  The ground floor was remodeled for stores.

Today a mish-mash of commercial awnings and storefronts crowd the ground floor.  Although the upper stories could use some sympathetic attention, William Field & Son’s cast iron façade is little changed.  And the wonderful decorations above the fifth floor thankfully survive.

photographs by the author

The "Modern French" Nos. 49-51 West 23rd Street

The newly-constructed building was still vacant when this photograph was shot -- from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Of the mansions of the wealthy families who lived on the West 23^rd Street block between 5^th and 6^th Avenues in the late 19^th century—stockbroker Benjamin Nathan, the Joneses (whose daughter, Edith, would become famous as Edith Wharton), and Dr. John Gardner Ambler among them—perhaps none was so attention-grabbing as that of William C. Schermerhorn.

The Schermerhorns were one of the oldest and most respected of the old “patroon” families of Manhattan.  Jacob Janse Schermerhorn was among the first settlers of New Netherland, arriving in 1636.  Following the Revolutionary War, the family lived in a country home, north of the city, on an estate that stretched from what is now Third Avenue to the East River, from about 63^rd to 68^th Streets, which  was built by Peter Schermerhorn, better known in New York history as “Peter the Younger.”   

By 1860 William Colford Schermerhorn, an attorney, was patriarch of the family.  That year he erected a city mansion straddling two building lots on West 23^rd Street at Nos. 49 and 51.   As the century progressed and the city’s entertainment district established itself along 23^rd Street, many of the wealthy residents moved on.  But William Schermerhorn resiliently stayed put in his brick and stone mansion, even as the Eden Musee Theatre was built directly next door.

Then on New Year’s Day in 1903 Schermerhorn died in the mansion on 23^rd Street at the age of 82.   His estate, about $35 million today, included two summer mansions—one in Newport and another in Lenox, Massachusetts.   His widow, Anne E. H. Schermerhorn, his daughter Fannie Bridgham and her husband Samuel, lived on in the 23^rd Street house which The New York Times said, on February 10, “now stands as a relic of a past generation.”

The Schermerhorn mansion survived until 1911.  To the left a portion of the Eden Musee can be seen.  photo NYPL Collection

Annie Schermerhorn did not survive much longer than her husband, but despite the fact that there were no other homes left on West 23^rd Street, she made sure the family house would not be razed while a Schermerhorn was still breathing. “In her will she left the injunction that the old house be occupied as a residence until the last of the family died,” reported The Sun on June 2, 1907, “so Mrs. Samuel Bridgham, one of her daughters, resides there with her husband during the part of the year she does not spend at her farm in East Greenwich, R.I.”

A year later Fannie died, relieving Samuel Bridgham of Mrs. Schermerhorn’s injunction.  Now alone in the anachronistic mansion, he looked for a home in a more residential and fashionable neighborhood.  On March 19, 1908 The New York Times noted that “The old Schermerhorn residence, in Twenty-third Street…has long been one of the most conspicuous landmarks in the central park of the city.  Flanked on one side by the Eden Musee and on the other by an eight-story business building, its dignified brownstone front is a striking reminder of the days when business was all below Fourteenth Street and when the fashionable residential section was along Fifth Avenue south of Madison Square.

“For several years it has been the only remaining residence on either side of Twenty-third Street, in the busy block between Fifth and Sixth Avenues.”

Within a few days of The Times article, Bridgman had purchased a new home at No. 954 Fifth Avenue and “the old Schermerhorn mansion at 49 West twenty-third Street will probably be abandoned and a new business structure erected on the site,” reported The New York Times.

In the meantime furniture manufacturers and dealers Geiger & Braverman were expanding into real estate.  In 1905 they opened a “general real estate and building business” office, according to the Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide, at 198 Broadway.   “These gentlemen are well known in the real estate field and furniture business,” said the Guide, and were already completing two apartment houses on 120^th Street near 7^th Avenue.

It was the Nameloc Company, however, that acquired the Schermerhorn mansion and in its place erected a 12-story store and loft building designed by Schwartz & Gross.   But it would be home to the Geiger & Braverman’s retail furniture business—a location that made perfect sense.  By now other furniture manufacturers had established themselves on the block—Robert J. Horner had erected his handsome limestone store next door at Nos. 61-65 and just to the west was the George C. Flint furniture store at No. 43.

Designed in what has been termed the “Modern French” style, the understated lower three floors were clad in limestone and featured a central section of expansive show windows.  The retail entrance was deeply recessed within arcade show windows—a recent innovation.   Above, nine floors of brick and terra cotta melded Art Nouveau and neo-Gothic in an unexpected, unabashedly 20^th century composition.   A marvelous parapet capped a gentle arch that harbored colorful terra cotta shields.

Up-to-the-minute Art Nouveau panels coexist with more traditional architectural details.

The upper lofts filled with various small manufacturers like S. Khoury & Co., Charles Iger, shirtwaist manufacturer, United Novelty Company, and Cohen & Feinberg while Geiger & Braverman sold furniture in the lower three floors.   A writer for the New-York Tribune was impressed with the modern furniture offered in June 1915.

“A nest of four tables for afternoon tea, fitting one beneath the other, is a good arrangement for the verandah,” the writer noted.  “Finished in mahogany these are priced at $10.  Another useful item for the summer cottage is the bookrack with extra shelf beneath for magazines of papers.”

A month later the writer was back and reported that “Here I saw a truly luxurious chaise longue upholstered in gay cretonne or pretty denim.  It may be had now at the special price of $22.50.  An upholstered davenport, with deep springs and loose cushions, is specially priced at $49.  Good looking lamps in either the ivory or mahogany finish, have pretty silk shades and cost $3.75.”

On the building's side wall, above the Eden Musee, ad painted signs advertise tenants in the upper lofts --NYPL Collection

L. Bernardaud, china and glass dealer, was here as was the Seymour Cravat Company, run by Hyman and Hertz, who were manufacturers of silk ties.   For a year, in 1918, the silk lofts of Manhattan had been plagued with “an abnormal number of burglaries,” according to the New-York Tribune and District Attorney Swann was convinced they “could not have been possible without the connivance of the police.”

On January 8, 1918 the robbers hit Seymour Cravat Company.  Unfortunately for the thieves and for Detective Edward C. Burgess, the D.A.’s office had the place staked out.  On the day prior to the robbery Burgess had entered the Seymour’s and purchased some times.   On the day of the robbery, according to the witness, Burgess “watched outside while the burglars operated and arranged to rap on the door twice if he saw a policeman or prying pedestrian approaching.”

Burgess was charged with accepting $184 as his share of the take.

The Bravermans continued to branch out and opened an upholstery firm in the building in 1919, Braverman & Weiss, Inc.   Brothers Charles and Solomon Braverman partnered with Joseph Weiss in the logical adjunct to their furniture business.

Other small firms like Rosenbaum & Lipner, makers of men’s neckwear; Michael Kolber; Bernard, Bernard & Co.; and Michael Addison, corset and underwear manufacturers, filled the building in the first decades of the century.  

Throughout the 20^th century the building saw various stores and offices come and go; however little changed outwardly.  Today a mattress store fills the street level retail space where Geiger & Braverman sold teacarts and wicker plant stands.  The out-of-the-ordinary early 20^th century structure is worth a pause and an upward glance.

non-historic photographs taken by the author

The George C. Flint Furniture Co. Building - No. 43 West 23rd Street



Carriages wait for ladies shopping at Flint's Furniture in 1895 -- King's Photographic View of New York (author's collection)

 One of the best-known furniture makers in New York in the 19th Century, George C. Flint opened his impressive showroom in 1868 at No. 106 West 14th Street, surrounded by other grand emporiums. Within ten years he would have a workshop No. 154 West 19th Street and a leased warehouse at No. 304 West Street. Flint’s key to success was to provide the public with attractive, up-to-date designs at affordable prices.

By the 1880’s the retail district was slowly moving northward from 14th Street along 6th Avenue; the area which would be familiarly known as The Ladies’ Mile. In 1886 R. J. Horner, arguably Flint’s strongest competitor, had erected a stylish cast iron store on 23rd Street, following the upward movement.

Although Flint held out on 14th Street for a while, by 1893 it became obvious that a new store was necessary. The New York Times reported that “The George C. Flint Company has found its present large store entirely inadequate for the proper display of the great and varied stock which the firm carries.”

Flint commissioned the esteemed architect Henry J. Hardenbergh to design his new structure. Eight stories tall, the facade would be fashioned of limestone rather than the cast iron used in Horner’s store just down the block. Large show windows on the first and second floors allowed a flood of sunlight into the showrooms. Gracing the upper portions of the four two-story ground floor piers, were ornate carved cartouches featuring demonic-looking feline heads. Hardenbergh used Ionic pillars, Corinthian pilasters, arches and an elaborate, deeply overhanging metal cornice to create a stately and visually appealing structure.

On August 22, 1894 Flint opened his doors for business in the new store, which extended through the block to 24th Street. “The store is so large,” said The Times, “that each piece on display stands by itself, and can be inspected from every side without delay or inconvenience. On each floor there are special exhibition rooms where the suits of furniture can be placed to show how they appear when arranged in the homes of purchasers.”

Flint had borrowed the idea of arranging furniture in room settings from his rival, Horner. Here were displayed parlor sets in the Louis XV and Louis XVI styles, “Bagdad and Turkish rugs,” mahogany dining room sets in the Chippendale style or oak sets “of the German Renaissance.”

“The firm is a present showing a special line of bedroom suites, in bird’s-eye maple, birch, mahogany, and oak. Many of the suites have twin beds, which are popular now instead of the single wide bed,” said The Times.

Flint’s business was not limited to the design, manufacture and sale of furniture. He kept a crew of craftsmen who installed interior woodwork in public and residential buildings. In 1880, Flint designed and installed the magnificent entrance hall and staircase of the Park Avenue Armory.

Problems arose in 1895 when his cabinet makers were working on the Presbyterian Building, being constructed on 5th Avenue at 20th Street. When the electrical workers went on strike, work on the building abruptly halted. The portion of Flint’s factory which was manufacturing the cabinetry also ground to a stop.

Rather than lay the men off during hard times (the Depression of 1893 was still being felt), the company put them to work manufacturing furniture which it put on sale at cost.

Disaster struck on November 6, 1906 when Flint’s factory and warehouse on West 29th Street caught fire. Fireman had problems with the water tower and for at least ten minutes could not get water on the blaze. Within a few hours the entire structure had burned to the ground, destroying everything. The lost furniture alone was valued at $250,000, much of it European antiques.

Shortly afterwards, Flint and Horner joined forces to become Flint & Horner. By the end of World War I both of the 23rd Street showrooms had been left for space uptown.

Hardenbergh’s beautiful building at No. 43 West 23rd Street has been little altered. Appropriately, the building where fashionable ladies once shopped for “fancy chairs in rich upholstering, easy chairs, desks for ladies, fancy curtains, etc., without number, all worthy of a place in a palace,” as The Times reported, today houses a furniture store.

non-credited photographs were taken by the author