The 1929 Tammany Hall -- No. 100 East 17th Street

photo by Alice Lum

At the end of the 19^th century, Tammany Hall was nothing like the benevolent organization organized in Philadelphia in the 18^th century.  By the time a New York branch was formed, The Society of St. Tammany, or Columbia Order, had spread throughout New England.

It was not until the Presidential campaign of 1800 that Tammany involved itself in politics, actively supporting the Jefferson-Burr ticket.  A year later, the first New York Tammany Hall was erected on Frankfort and Nassau Streets.  It was replaced when the organization moved northward and opened the new hall on July 4, 1868 at 137-149 East 14^th Street.

By the turn of the century, Tammany Hall was immensely powerful and often corrupt.  It controlled the Democratic Party in New York County and often raised the wrath of reformers and religious leaders alike.

In the 1920s Governor Al Smith joined in an attempt to reform Tammany Hall.  Nightlife-loving Mayor Jimmy Walker’s open defiance of Prohibition offended the governor.  The battle between the two politicians shook the foundations of Tammany.  According to Mary M. Stolberg in her Fighting Organized Crime,  “By 1929 the split between Smith and Walker had further weakened Tammany Hall.”

One of Walker’s counter moves was to abandon the old Tammany Hall—a symbol of graft and corruption.  Three blocks to the north, opposite the northeast corner of Union Square, sat the Westmoreland Apartments, constructed as a hotel in 1877.  The old structure was razed in 1928 to make way for a new patriotic-themed hall Tammany Hall.

Wide World Photos published a view of the anticipated structure in August 1928 entitled "The New Home of the Society of Tammany" (copyright expired)

Architects Thompson, Holmes & Converse, in conjunction with Charles B. Meyers, reached back to the organization’s early Federalist roots.  The Union Square elevation was meant to invoke the original Federal Hall where George Washington had taken the Oath of Office.  Typical neo-Georgian and neo-Federal elements distinguished the design and reflected Colonial America.  The bricks were custom-made in Virginia and a 1929 advertisement by the Old Virginia Brick Company in Salem, Virginia, stressed the patriotic theme:

How fitting, therefore, that in this building should be used bricks made in the Virginia Jefferson so proudly served.  Likewise in the same size, and made in the same kind of cherry and maple moulds as those of his beloved Monticello, 30 years in its building, and where Jefferson lived for a full half century.

High on the 17th Street side a carved plaque sits against the custom-made Flemish bond brickwork -- photo by Alice Lum

Not everything would look back to the Jeffersonian period.  Inside, the black marble floor, the wrought iron railings and curved staircase were rescued from the old 14^th Street Hall.  The interiors were furnished with reproduction Empire period furniture, white enameled paneling and mahogany woodwork.

The official opening of the new building, which cost $350,000 to erect, was held on July 4, 1929.  Interestingly, the new Governor Franklin Delano Roosevelt shared the spotlight as chief speaker with Alfred E. Smith.  Both Roosevelt and Smith were Democrats, but both shared their ardent disdain of Tammany Hall. 

In 1929 Manufacturers Trust Company took space at street level.  Note the clever adaptation of fan lights into the square openings.  photo from the collection of the New York Public Library

The year following the new building’s completion, Governor Roosevelt instigated an investigation into the scandals and alleged corruption.  The heretofore highly popular Mayor Walker was forced to resign in dishonor and Samuel Seabury, who headed the magistrates’ courts, suddenly resigned due to “ill-health.”

Things only got worse for Tammany Hall when Roosevelt became President in 1932.  And in 1933 the new mayor, Fiorello LaGuardia, joined forces with the President to take apart the Tammany organization. 

In 1939 the Federal Writers’ Project’s New York City Guide remarked, “When the organization wins at the polls, club leaders and district workers swarm to the Hall for a rousing election night celebration, but such joyful gatherings have been infrequent in recent years.”

A terra cotta medallion depicts a "Liberty Cap."  -- photo by Alice Lum

By 1943, the diluted organization could no longer afford to pay the mortgage on Tammany Hall.  That summer it sold the building to Local 91 of the International Ladies Garment Workers Union.  The Union made interior alterations to accommodate its needs.  Offices were created and the auditorium stage was enlarged.  It was officially opened with a concert and dedication ceremony on December 18, 1943.  Ironically, both Jimmy Walker and Fiorello LaGuardia were there.  Sharing space did not mean that the pair had reconciled, however.

LaGuardia told reporters, “This building was built under the Walker Administration and put out of business—or on the bum—by the LaGuardia Administration.”  He added, “You know, I wouldn’t change the name of the building…I would keep it as a permanent monument to the change that came for the City of New York when a mighty, ruthless organization lost the building to an organization of the people.”

In 1947 Local 91 honored Franklin Delano Roosevelt by renaming the 1000-seat auditorium the Roosevelt Auditorium.  For years, its was offered to other unions and organizations for meetings and rallies.  On March 16, 1983 cabdrivers voted on a strike here; on December 30, 1981 cemetery workers authorized their strike against 70 cemeteries; and on October 29, 1964 firemen turned down the $900 pay increase which had been accepted by the NYPD.  That same month 250 delegates of the Teamsters Union ignored the pressure from Jimmy Hoffa and voted to endorse John F. Kennedy for President.

By 1962 the auditorium was also being used by the “Roosevelt Yiddish Theater.”  Here Max Perlman produced plays like Don’t Worry, Brother, and A Honeymoon in Israel. 

In 1984 the Roudabout Theater signed a long-term lease for the auditorium with the International Ladies Garment Workers Union.  The theater group was at the time at No. 333 West 23^rd Street.  It commissioned architect Robert Asscione to refurbish the interior structure.

“The auditorium will be renovated for the Roundabout company into a 499-seat facility with no seat more than 40 feet from the stage,” reported William G. Blair of The New York Times on July 1, 1984.

The $850,000 in renovations were completed  early in 1985 and the opening was held on February 1.  In attendance were E. G. Marshall, Jim Dale, Kate Burton and Tovah Feldshuh among others.  On February 13 the first production was staged, Playboy of the Western World.  Over the near few years significant performances and productions included A Man for All Seasons starting Philip Bosco and Charles Keating; Dorothy Laudon in The Matchmaker; Room Service, directed by Alan Arkin and starring Mark Hamill, and a revival of Raisin in the Sun which was aired by PBS in 1986.

Following the Roundabout, the auditorium was leased somewhat briefly to Raymond L. Gaspard.  His Union Square Theater staged eight productions.  Then in 1994 the New York Film Academy leased space here.  The film and acting school had been founded two years earlier by producer Jerry Sherlock.   Its graduates have included comedians Damon Wayans and Damon Wayans, Jr., actress and figure skater Sasha Cohen, and Glee actor Chord Overstreet.

 

Above the entrance "The Society of Tammany" is carved into the stonework.  photo by Alice Lum

In 2001, after nearly 60 years of ownership, Local 91 sold the building to Liberty Theatres, Inc.  In 2013 it was designated a New York City Landmark.  Although retail spaces have been carved out of the rusticated limestone base, above street level the handsome Federal design survives.  It is the last relic of a political organization that tried hard, and unsuccessfully, to disguise its gang-like activities behind a patriotic veil.

UPDATE:  A four-year renovation by BKSK Architects completed in 2020 included the addition of a glass dome. 

The Mayor James Walker House - 6 St. Luke's Place

St. Luke’s Place is an anomaly among Manhattan streets, even in quirky Greenwich Village. One-block long, it gently curves from 7th Avenue, where it is named Leroy Street, to Hudson Street, where somewhere along the way it has mysteriously become St. Luke’s Place.

Beginning in 1851, 15 contiguous, grand homes were erected here. Completed in 1854, they are nearly identical. The unusually wide Italianate, or Renaissance Revival, brick-and-brownstone homes with opulent parlors, ornate plaster ceiling medallions and surrounds, and costly materials such as Italian marble and Honduras mahogany were designed for the well-to-do upper-middle class. Many boasted “triple-parlors,” with three rooms per floor.

The site chosen for these handsome residences was strange – directly across from the Old St. John’s Burying Ground, affording the high-toned residents a macabre parlor view of tombstones. Because the cemetery would preclude the building of homes across St. Luke’s Place, the houses were numbered sequentially in yet another departure from the norm.

Here, at No. 6, little Jimmy Walker grew up. After attending the nearby Catholic Xavier High School, James John Walker worked as a songwriter on Tin Pan Alley, penning such then-favorites as “Will you love me in December (as You Do in May)?” and “There’s Music in the Rustle of a Skirt.” The sentiment of the latter lyrics would prove to be more in keeping with his personality than the former.

Walker entered politics, his father being well-connected with the governor of New York, Al Smith. He became a State Assemblyman in 1910 and then a Senator in 1914. Smith took a shine to Walker, who impressed everyone with the dashing appearance that earned him the nickname “Beau James.”

Mayor James Walker -- photo NYPL Collection

In his The Power Broker, author Robert Caro describes Walker as wearing a "Pinch-waisted, one-button suit, slenderest of cravats, a shirt from a collection of hundreds, pearl-gray spats buttoned around silk-hosed ankles, toes of the toothpick shoes peeking out from the spats polished to a gleam. Pixie smile, the 'vivacity of a song and dance man,' a charm that made him arrive in the Senate Chamber like a glad breeze' The Prince Charming of Politics.....slicing through the ponderous arguments of the ponderous men who sat around him with a wit that flashed like a rapier.”

Although Jimmy Walker had earned himself the reputation of a philander and a boozer, Smith encouraged Walker to run for Mayor in 1925 – admonishing him to change his ways. Walker agreed. Except he didn’t change his ways.

photo NYPL Collection

Walker won the election and immediately decided his home on St. Luke’s Place, now the mayoral residence, needed a $25,000 make-over. In November 1925 he moved into the Hotel Commodore with his wife while workmen soundproofed his conference room with simulated-wood cement walls and made other revisions. Two lampposts were installed at street level which the New York Times noted were customary since Dutch times.

Six months later the renovation was complete. The mayor’s wife and mother-in-law had a special celebratory dinner prepared. The mayor failed to show up. When he attempted to call home he had forgotten the new, unlisted number and no operator would reveal it.

Finally at 3:00 am, Jimmy Walker stumbled home. The police officer stationed at the front door, not recognizing him and unable to believe that this “disreputable looking man” was indeed the mayor, refused to allow him in.



The following day Walker said to his wife “How the hell does a mayor get into his own home?”

“You are very well protected,” she answered.

Among Walker’s neighbors on St. Luke’s Place at the time were Theodore Dreiser, Sherwood Anderson and Marianne Moore. As the Jazz Age roared on in New York City, Jimmy Walker roared with it. He admired chorus girls, perhaps a little too much, haunted speak-easys, and never left his bedroom at No. 6 St. Luke’s Place before noon. Here he would look at the photographs in magazines and newspapers for hours (he disliked reading the articles), before descending the stairs for breakfast.

Rather than store his many hats, he hung them in the entrance hall, advising his butler to gesture to them and explain that the mayor was involved in a meeting should any boring visitors arrive.

Things turned sour for the mayor when the Great Depression hit. None too fond of showing up at City Hall, he was definitely not fond of the crick the Depression was causing in his fun. As the Depression worsened, Walker shocked the public when he callously advised them to look on the bright side by attending cheery movies.

New York Cardinal Hayes denounced the mayor’s philandering and drinking and Governor Franklin D. Roosevelt launched an investigation of corruption in Walker’s administration. It did not take long to find it.

Facing pressure from Roosevelt, Walker resigned office on September 1, 1932 and fled to Europe with his girlfriend, Zeigfeld showgirl Betty Compton, before charges could be filed. There he married her after obtaining a divorce from his wife. The pair was divorced six years later.

In the meantime, No. 6 St. Luke’s Place sat empty. In 1934 it was seized and sold for nonpayment of taxes to Eric Coupey, an importer and broker in essential oils.

Throughout the 20th Century and into the 21st, little has changed in the outward appearance of the fifteen St. Luke’s Place homes. At No. 6, the pedimented windows, the arched doorway with its heavy, scrolled brackets and even the mayoral lamps survive.

In 1995 No. 12 St. Luke’s Place sold for $2 million, only to be sold five years later for $12.995 million. In 2007 Nat Rothschild gutted No. 8 and commissioned David Chipperfield to design entirely new interiors. The block where Anderson, Dreiser and Moore lived now boasts residents with names like Linda Ellerbee and Robert DeNiro.

The cemetery across the street is now a playground named for the boozing, philandering and ever-sensational James J. Walker.