The Horace Waters & Co. Piano Building - 134 Fifth Avenue

 

In the 1840's wealthy merchant Henry Beadel and his family lived at 707 Broadway, a neighborhood of fine brick mansions.  But following the construction of Henry and Laura Brevoort's lavish home on Fifth Avenue at 9th Street in 1834, fashion began moving to that thoroughfare.  In 1851 the Beadels were listed at their new Fifth Avenue residence, between 18th and 19th Streets.

The brownstone-fronted house held its own among the other Fifth Avenue mansions at four stories tall above an English basement.  At the time, Henry and his wife, the former Sarah Ebbets, had three sons, 7-year-old Henry Jr., 6-year-old Charles, and 4-year-old Frederick.  In 1851, soon after the family moved into their new home, a daughter, Sarah, was born, and Edward M. Beadel arrived in 1852.

Along with his mercantile business, Beadel invested in real estate and was a director in the Howard Life Insurance Co.  Like all well-to-do families, the Beadels summered in fashionable resorts or in Europe.  On July 3, 1862, The New York Times reported that the family had sailed on the Mercury, headed for Havre.  Both Henry Jr. and Charles were enrolled at Columbia College, by then.

Henry Beadel died in 1874 and by 1876 the family left 134 Fifth Avenue, leasing it to former Minister to France, Nelson Marvin Beckwith and his wife, the former Frances Margaret Forbes.  In compiling its list of "American Millionaires," the New-York Tribune reported that Beckwith had made his fortune "in the China trade and importation of spices and coffee."  He and Frances had three children, Leonard Forbes, Frances Helene Forbes, and Arthur.  A second daughter, Adelaide, had died in 1871.

The Beckwiths' elevated social station was reflected in a dinner party they held on December 12, 1884.  The New York Times remarked, 

Mr. and Mrs. N. M. Beckwith, of No. 134 Fifth-avenue, entertained Mr. and Mrs. Orme Wilson, née Astor, at what was probably one of the most elaborate dinner parties of the season.  The table was decorated with a large centre basket filled with Gloire de Paris and Jacqueminot roses, and at each end was a basket of maidenhair ferns.  Between the centre basket and the ferns was placed at each end a handsome Louis Quatorze candelabrum, each holding six red candles with red satin shades.  Covers for 24 were laid.

Among the two dozen guests that evening was Mrs. Caroline Schermerhorn Astor, the mother and mother-in-law of the guests of honor.  Also invited was Louise Ward McAllister, the daughter of Mrs. Astor's closest ally, Ward McAllister.

By the time of the dinner party, Arthur listed his profession as an artist and sometimes as an architect, while Leonard was a civil engineer.  

In September 1889 Nelson Beckwith died.  He left each of his children $300,000 (around $9.1 million by 2022 conversion), and equal shares in 800 acres of land.  The year after Nelson's death, Frances Helene married Hon. Francis Dudley Leigh of London.

The Beckwith name, however, soon appeared in print for darker reasons.  In 1890 Arthur was deemed insane and committed to an asylum in Litchfield, Connecticut, from which he promptly escaped.  He was found in 1893 hiding in Cuba, was returned to New York City and placed in a "retreat" in Flushing.  He escaped again and was not heard of again.

The New York Times reported on March 27, 1898, "Leonard Forbes Beckwith took charge of his brother's estate when he disappeared...During the same year--1893--he also went insane, and died shortly afterward."  

In the meantime, the Fifth Avenue neighborhood had become more and more commercialized.  The Beadel family hired the architectural firm of D. & J. Jardine in 1888 to convert their former home for commercial purposes.  The stoop was removed and a store space installed at ground level.  It became home to the showroom of the Horace Waters & Co. piano firm, while the upper floors were leased to The School of Industrial Art and Technical Design for Women.

The Evening World, December 21, 1891 (copyright expired)

Howard Waters & Co. was established in 1845 by Horace Waters.  At its factory at 7 West 139th Street it made the Waters and Chester pianos, and the Autola player pianos.  Howard's sons, T. Leeds Waters and Horace Jr. had become partners around 1864, and after Horace Waters's death in 1893, the firm was headed by T. Leeds Waters.  The Purchaser's Guide to the Music Industries called the company "one of the best-known dealers in New York City."

The School of Industrial Art and Technical Design for Women was founded in the fall of 1881 by Florence Elizabeth Cory.  Its purpose was to train women in "manufactured arts."  In 1893 King's Handbook of New York said it "successfully teaches designing for carpets, wall-paper, cretonne, calico, silk, linen, portieres, carved and inlaid work, stained glass, lace decorated cards, china and all industrial art manufacturers."

The school remained in the building through 1894, after which the Beadel family remodeled it again.  This time architect Charles R. Behrens completely transformed the structure, erasing all hints of its domestic origins.  The brownstone was stripped off and a modern cast iron facade installed.   The two-story storefront was decorated with ornate Aesthetic style designs, and each of the upper floors was defined by a prominent intermediate cornice.  A frieze of neo-Classical wreaths and garlands ran below the terminal cornice.

Horace Waters & Co. remained in the two lower floors, taking advantage of the vast show windows.  A long-time employee was Samuel Tilly White, who was hired at the age of 16 in 1870 as a "bundle boy."  Decades later, as a branch manager and salesman, he would bring his small son Elywyn Brooks White to work on special visits.  The boy would go on to become the well-known writer and author E. B. White.  In 1969 his granddaughter, Martha White, published Letters of E. B. White, in which he described those visits:

When I was a child, I used to watch parades from a front-row seat next to the big plate glass window on the second floor of 134 Fifth Avenue--a splendid vantage point.  I was "Mr. White's boy," marked for the special treatment.  I made many visits to 134 and remember particularly the wonderful sad sound of a piano being tuned somewhere in the building.

The three upper floors were leased to other tenants, like the publishers of School Magazine, here in 1914.

The Evening World, February 27, 1922 (copyright expired)

In 1929 Howard Waters & Co. merged with The Janssen Piano Company.  (The Howard Waters name would be discontinued around 1949.)  Its former showroom became a restaurant.

After having owned the property for nearly a century, the Beadel family sold 134 Fifth Avenue in 1940.  The restaurant's lease was discontinued the following year.

In 1941 the two-story restaurant space was vacant.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In 1950 A. J. Van Dugteren & Sons opened its showrooms and offices here.  The importer of European glass and pottery had previously operated from 5 East 57th Street.  Around the same time East House enterprises, manufacturers and importers of paper products occupied space on the upper floors.  The firm would remain until early in 1964.

Somewhat abused by the last quarter of the 20th century, the building saw a series of occupants.  In 1971 the Underground Gallery opened with an exhibition of photographs by Norman Snyder and Fred Picker.  On the fourth floor, from 1974 to 1982, was the studio of photographer Eric Meola.  It was the scene of a photo shoot on June 20, 1975 that resulted in, as Meola words it, "one of the most famous rock album covers"--Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run.  (Meola discusses the shoot with the artist and Clarence Clemons in his blog site.)

The cover opens to reveal the complete photograph of both men.  © Eric Meola

More recently, in 2015 a Nautica pop-up store opened in the lower levels, followed by a Tracy Reese pop-up store in 2017.  A bit battered today, the building encapsulates more than a century and a half of change along the block--from a period of elegant mansions, to women's struggles to obtain equality in the workplace, and to modern photography and trendy boutiques.

 

photographs by the author

no permission to reuse the content of this blog has been granted to LaptrinhX.com

The New York Mercantile Exchange - 628-630 Broadway

Henry Newman, the principal in Henry Newman & Co., was an importer of tailors' trimmings and clothiers' supplies.   It may have been the news that the New York Mercantile Exchange was looking for larger headquarters that prompted him to embark on a construction project in 1882.

In January of the previous year J. H. Mahoney had purchased at an executor's sale the two old buildings at Nos. 628 and 630 Broadway, between Houston and Bleecker Streets.  The price he paid, $111,200 (around $2.7 million today) reflected the influx of commercial buildings along this section of Broadway.

Newman leased the properties and hired H. J. Schwarzmann & Co. to design a six-story commercial building.  According to the Engineering Record on February 23, 1882, the projected construction costs were $125,000; more than $3 million in today's dollars.  (Interestingly, while plans were filed under H. J. Schwarzmann & Co., the 1898 A History of Real Estate, Building and Architecture in New York City gave full credit to another firm, Buchman & Deisler.)

The building, completed in 1883, would have been little different than scores of other cast iron fronted buildings were it not for its eye-catching, unique ornamentation  The Aesthetic Movement was taking hold in America, appearing mostly in furniture and artwork.  The movement stressed natural motifs--birds, flowers, and leaves, for instance--and Far Eastern influences.  H. J. Schwarzmann & Co. took it from the drawing room to the facade of Newman's building.

The engaged columns of the ground floor storefront, along with those on each of the succeeding floors, took the form of bamboo poles.  Recessed panels on the side piers at this level were incised with stylized leaf designs.  Applied cast iron flowers to the side were slightly offset from the panels.

The remarkable decoration continued at the second and third floors with thin palm trees and clumps of calla lilies.  The trees terminated in just two fronds.  Like the cast iron plants on the third and fifth floor piers, the palms and lilies no doubt once sprouted from a now-lost cornice.

A decorative cornice once upheld the now-floating palm trees and lilies at the second floor.

The filigree panels forming Moorish-type arches that framed the top story openings were almost assuredly repeated throughout the lower floors.  One can easily imagine the overall delicate and lacy Asian appearance they created.

Newman had the architects incorporate the name "The New York Mercantile Exchange" into the cast iron facade.   And, indeed, that group did temporarily lease space on the second floor for offices and showrooms.  Newman moved his own business into the building, sharing the third, fifth and sixth floors with Cohn, Ball & Co., makers of boys' and men's clothing.  On the fourth floor in 1884 was clothing merchant L. Clark, and the two street level stores were home to Joseph W. Lester & Co., a hat shop, at No. 628 and I. Oberndorfer & Co.'s "gentlemen's furnishing goods" at No. 630.

Just after 4:00 on the morning of August 19, 1884 fire was discovered on the fifth floor.   Firefighters had the blaze out within an hour, but the damage was significant.  Both Cohn, Ball & Co. and Henry Newman & Co. had their new fall and winter inventory stored there.

The New York Times reported "When the firemen entered the building the upper floors were so filled with smoke that it was impossible to move about until the skylight on the roof had been smashed and the front windows on Broadway had been broken out."

Although the fire was confined to the fifth floor, as was often the case with 19th and early 20th century fires water damage was severe.   Joseph W. Lester & Co., for instance, lost $4,000 in ruined hats, and I. Oberndorfer & Co. suffered $5,000 in losses.

The pressed frieze of leaves below the cornice reflects an Aesthetic Movement motif.  The filigree frames of the upper floor windows, almost assuredly, continued throughout the facade.

The building was repaired and the former Cohn, Ball & Co. (by now renamed Ball & Co.) celebrated is grand reopening in March 1886.  The fire may have ruined Newman's plans for a long-term tenant in the New York Mercantile Exchange, however.  It completed its own building on Harrison Street that same year.

Ball & Co. had expanded, now taking several floors.  The New York Times called it "an immense store," and noted "down stairs is their retail department and up stairs the manufacturing is done."  The firm touted its "new and spacious stores" as having "the largest stock of fine clothing for men, youths and boys ever exhibited in this city."  Men's spring overcoats, "made of meltons, cassimeres and corkscrews" were priced at between $6 and $12 (a reasonable $316 today for the most expensive model).

Later that year Ball & Co. launched a clever marketing scheme.  For every purchase of $15 or over the customer would receive a Limoges clock.  On November 24, 1886 The Times commented "These clocks are really good time-keepers."

Other tenants in the refurbished building were clothing firms of Leo Schlesinger, Vanderhoef & Co., Rindskopf & Barbier, W. Hillman & Co., J. Klee & Co., Joseph Rosenthal, and Charles Simon & Co.

Tragedy repeated itself on July 2, 1887 when fire broke out again.  This time total damages to the various tenants amounted to $130,000 and it was apparently the last straw for Ball & Co.  The firm did not return to Nos. 628-630 Broadway.

Henry Newman's tenant list slowly reflected the migration of the millinery district from south of Houston Street.  In 1888 William McElhinney & Co., milliners, was in the building, as was Henry Zeimer & Co., "importers of artificial flowers." 

The Evening World, March 8, 1893 (copyright expired)

The apparel industry was stunned when Henry Newman & Co. declared bankruptcy in May 1894.  The Clothier and Furnisher reported that the announcement "produced an immense sensation throughout the trade, and expressions of sympathy with the defunct firm could be heard in every quarter of the market."

J. H. Mahoney still owned the building.  He died in 1901 but his estate continued its management.  In April 1901 I. Isaac & Co., "neckwear manufacturers" moved in.  Then in 1902 the entire building was leased to The New York Millinery & Supply Company.  Negotiations for that lease were most likely the cause of the $3,000 in alterations the Mahoney estate made on the building that year.

The firm advertised one of its Pattern Hats in July 1904.  The Millinery Trade Review (copyright expired)

The New York Millinery & Supply Company offered the latest in women's head wear.   Its new line of 1904 fall and winter hats was unveiled on August 9,  The firm tempted buyers saying "We are showing a most superb line of Ladies' and Misses' correct, artistic, snappy Millinery Merchandise."  The announcement added "Our famous $3.50 each Pattern Hats are wonders in value--each one embodying the swellest, latest and most popular New York and Parisian ideas."

The firm sub-leased space to non-competing tenants.  Among them in 1907 were Millen, Aikenhead & Co. makers of men's pajamas and shirts, Eisenberg & Settel, men's overcoats and clothing makers, (which moved in on February 1), and Proser Bros. whose hand-made worsted suits ranged from $7 to $9 that year.

Fairchild's Men's Wear Directory, 1907

The Steinfeld Brothers toy store was in the ground floor retail space.  They were doing a brisk business in Rudolph Fleischer's popular teddy bears.  Following a well-publicized story of President Theodore Roosevelt's 1902 bear hunting trip in Mississippi during which he refused to shoot a cornered bear cub, toy manufacturers like Fleischer cranked out thousands of the cuddly plush animals.

Just before the Republican convention in 1907 Steinfeld Brothers ordered another 525 dozen teddy bears from Fleischer.  The store, according to the New-York Tribune later, "figured that President Roosevelt would accept a third term.  Teddy bears would still be a valuable investment with Mr. Roosevelt in the White House four years more"

But to the management's amazement and dismay, it was William Howard Taft who received the nomination.  Despite their standing purchase order, Steinfeld Brothers told the manufacturer they would accept 20 dozen bears, but no more.

Rudolph Fleischer went to court.  He told reporters the bears were not bears any longer, but "white elephants."  The New-York Tribune reported on July 4, 1908 "Fleischer says they broke their contract, and now he wants damages."

The New York Millinery & Supply Co. remained in the building for years.  Its large staff of hat makers and shop girls was entirely female.  In 1913 it employed 31 women and two office workers.

In 1915 women's hat fashions--like New York Millinery & Supply Co.'s "Knickerbocker hat"--were decidedly less exuberant.  The American Angler, January 1915 (copyright expired)

In the years following the end of World War I the millinery and apparel districts moved northward.  The Broadway section just above Houston Street saw drastic change during the Depression years.   The store space became home to the Bleecker Trading Corporation, a check-cashing operation.

On the evening of September 4, 1941 Oliver Scherman was alone there when a gunman, around 45 years old, walked in around 6:15.  He pushed a revolver through the grill of the cashier's cage and ordered "Give me all the money you have."

The New York Times opined "He had apparently been watching the place for some time and knew when Scherman would be lone."  The cashier handed him everything in the till.  The thief left the checks behind, but took about $2,000 in cash.

Among the upper floor tenants was the Capitol Folding Box Company, Inc.  In 1945 that firm broke through the basement wall to connect to the building next door at Nos. 632-634 Broadway.

Fire once again struck the building in 1951, this one on the lower floors.  The architectural firm of Emery Roth & Sons was commissioned to repair the damages, including the construction of a new lobby.

Another brazen robbery took place in the building just over a decade later.  A holdover from the apparel manufacturing days, Rettinger Raincoat Manufacturing Company operated from an upper floor.  Until the second half of the 20th century payroll was customarily distributed in the form of cash.  It was a tempting arrangement for robbers.

On June 24, 1953 Bertha Rosen, the company's bookkeeper, returned from the bank with the payroll.  As she entered the elevator, two men pushed their way in.  One brandished a pistol.  They snatched the $2,569 in cash, wrapped it in a newspaper, and fled the building.

Beginning in 1940 the city had been plagued by a mad bomb maker who planted 28 devices, 23 of which exploded.   On December 1, 1956 six patrons were injured when a homemade bomb exploded in the Brooklyn Paramount Theater.  Three days later a surge of bomb threats sent police scurrying throughout the city.  The following day The New York Times reported "Thirteen new threats yesterday to bomb public places, including theatres, schools, an airlines terminal, a ship and an Army base, intensified the police hunt for a deranged perpetrator."

Among the calls was that received at 1:30 p.m. warning that a bomb was set to explode at No. 630 Broadway.  That call was a hoax and no device was found.

By the last quarter of the century this section of Broadway was dingy and neglected.  In 1981 Nos 620-630 Broadway was home to the Commercial Plastics and Supply Corporation, described by The New York Times as "the largest of a half-dozen plastics merchants clustered together."

But the neighborhood, soon to be known as Noho, was on the brink of rediscovery.  As former loft buildings were restored and rehabilitated, No. 628-630 received a make-over in 1990.  Today the strikingly exotic cast iron building is as remarkable as it was in 1883.

photographs by the author

Iron Sunflowers -- No. 435 Broome Street

In the 1830s and ‘40s William O’Brien and his family lived in a comfortable brick house at No. 435 Broome Street.  Like their father, William Jr. and John were insurance brokers and the three worked together at No. 16 Wall Street.

By the end of the Civil War, however, the Broome Street neighborhood was no longer quietly residential.  The Federal-style homes were quickly being replaced with modern commercial structures.  Catherine Wilkins refused to be impeded by her sex and aggressively entered the real estate development game.  Her name repeatedly appeared in real estate columns as she bought and improved properties.

Among these was the former O’Brien house, being used as the C. M. Tremaine & Brother’s piano and organ store as early as 1869.  In 1873 she demolished the old building and commissioned architect William Appleton Potter to design a store and loft building.  

Potter had just completed designs for the Princeton University’s Chancellor Green Library—his first major commission.  He had worked in the newly popular Victorian Gothic style for that structure, and now would bring it to his cast iron Broome Street project.

Cast iron facades tended to take typical forms in 1870s New York—pretending to be stone buildings with engaged Corinthian columns and broad openings.  Potter’s No. 453 Broome Street would step far out of that box.  He included fanciful elements, such as the unusual capitals of the pencil-thin columns upholding curlicue brackets.  And he pulled out the stops at the top-most level.

Here Potter ornamented the openings with Gothic tracery and topped it all with a decorative frieze and parapet similar to the cresting of bedroom and dining room furniture being designed at the time.  Here he added touches of another up-to-the-minute style.  Delightful spindly cast iron sunflowers—one of the major motifs of the Aesthetic Movement—lined up in full relief.  Within the triangular pediment, unseen from the street, was the date 1873.

Wonderful cast iron sunflowers bloom within shallow niches and between ornaments.  Their leaves and, in some cases, stems have been lost.  Within the pediment is the date 1873.  photograph by Beyond My Ken

Catherine Wilkins quickly sold the completed building to the well known real estate operator S. Van Rensselaer Cruger.  His long-standing firm had been founded in 1796 by Van Rensselaer Cruger.

Termed a “warehouse” by the Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide, the building filled with firms involved in the millinery and apparel industry.  In 1876 H. Bacharach & Co., importer of artificial flowers; William Imissohn, feather dealer; and James P. Bills and J. N. Davenport, both cloth merchants, were in the building.

 

By 1885 the lace importer and manufacturer Duden & Co. had its salesroom here.  Its factory which employed about 100 workers was located in Williamsbridge area of the Bronx.  It was the scene of a vicious attack in March that year when factory worker Richard Roe was set upon by Louis Farrend and Louis Lagrange who then disappeared. 

A search for the attackers frustrated police.  On March 25, 1885 the New-York Tribune reported “The Frenchman who inflicted the serious, if not fatal, injuries had not been captured at noon yesterday.  Mr. Roe was much worse yesterday, and his condition was considered critical.”

Duden & Co. was based in Brussels and, in addition to New York, had branches in San Francisco, London and St. Petersburg.  It had been doing business in New York since 1858.  The firm suffered a devastating blow when the Bronx factory caught on fire on March 8, 1888.   The was no fire department in Williamsbridge and a hand-operated engine from West Chester village did not arrive for an hour and a half after the blaze was discovered.

Hermann Duden told reporters that night, after the factory was destroyed, “It was shameful so much valuable property was lost.  I never would have built there had I known we were so ill provided with fire engines.”

Creditors quickly became nervous, especially because Duden’s permanent residence was in Brussels.  When the firm was late on paying Wilmerding, Hogeut & Co. that summer, a judge granted an attachment for $13,000 against the lace manufacturer.

Henry Rogers ran his novelty goods business in the Broome Street building in 1893 when he was slapped with an unexpected lawsuit by his sister-in-law.   Bernard Rogers had secured a degree of separation from Catherine Rogers several years before because of her “intemperate habits.”  Drinking, however, was not Catherine’s only problem.

The Evening World noted on December 8, 1893, “Rogers was a wealthy man when he was married, but is now a poor man.  He attributes his poverty to his wife’s habits.”   When the separation was finalized, Bernard stayed in the house at No. 395 12^th Street in Brooklyn.  According to Catherine, he had purchased the $6,500 residence “in the name of his brother, Henry Rogers, so that she could not claim any part of it.”

The Evening World noted that “Mrs. Rogers has figured in court many times in the last few years.”  In December 1893 she would be there again.  And again.   She brought an action early that month to set aside the decree of separation, saying it had been obtained through fraud.  That case failed when evidence showed no fraud had been committed.  She then sued her former husband for “cruel and inhuman treatment.”  And then she sued Henry Rogers for $100,000 damages “for being responsible for her husband leaving her.”

Yet again, on December 7, she was in court concerning the assault case she filed against Bernard Rogers’ attorney, John Shea.  When he visited her about three weeks earlier, she had set an attack dog on him.  The Evening World reported that according to Catherine’s testimony, Shea “who represents her husband, from whom she is separated, knocked her about, threatened to shoot her and otherwise abused her.”

Shea’s story was far different.  “Shea, in his defense, said as soon as he got in the hallway Mrs. Rogers called to a boy to bring on the dog. In about a minute the boy appeared, holding the dog by a chain.

“Mrs. Rogers urged the dog to attack him, Shea says, and he had just time to dodge behind the vestibule door as the dog and boy shot by him.”

Once again Catherine Rogers’ case was dismissed, there being no evidence to substantiate her claims.

In June 1898 S. Van Rennselaer Cruger sold No. 435 Broome Street to William Waldorf Astor for $75,000—about $2.2 million in 2015.  Astor’s interest in the area was keen and by 1906 would own the adjoining structures at Nos. 484 and 486 Broadway.

In 1908 Astor leased the entire building to leather bag manufacturer Freund Bros. & Co.  Its showroom was on the first floor, and its factory occupied the upper floors.   Freund Bros. would remain in the building until 1911 when it moved to East 17^th Street.   In its place A. Lercher, leather trunk manufacturer, moved in. 

Shoe & Leather Reporter, 1912 (copyright expired)

In the early years of the 20^th century trunks and wardrobes were essential for wealthy families traveling on railroads and steamers to summer resorts and European tours.  Manufacturers like A. Lercher had a broad customer base available.

In July 1912 Luggage and Leather Goods announced that Lercher, “whose factory at 101 Bowery, was recently damaged by fire, has removed to 435 Broome street in the building formerly occupied by Freund Bros. & Co…It is conveniently located near Broadway, with the advantage of the entire ground floor for office and salesroom.  He occupies the entire building, which has been equipped for manufacturing on a more economical and extensive scale.”

Lercher would remain in the building into the 1920s.  In 1925 the Astor family sold the property; and in the mid 1930s it was home to Henry Allen, distributor of hospital supplies.  In 1936 the company received a significant contract from the United States Government.

The somewhat battered ground floor managed to retain a few of its original cast iron elements.

For the next few decades No. 435 Broome Street would continue to house industrial-type tenants.  In 1942 Murray Axlerod leased the entire building “for the sale of metal office furniture.”  And by 1966 the American Aviation Manufacturing Corporation, a supplier of aviation parts, had been here for several years.  It used the building for its “offices, stock room and shipping.”

But within the decade the Soho neighborhood would be transformed into one of artists, galleries and studios.  In 1976 the building was home to the Ambrose Arts Foundation’s performing arts venue and the gallery of the Women in the Arts Foundation, where artwork by female-only members was exhibited.

From 1995 through the first decade of the 21^st century No. 435 housed the Puffin Room, a gallery and performing arts center.  It annually presented The Loft Show which highlighted the work of artists “considered Soho’s modern pioneers.”

In 2010 the owners put No. 435 on the market for just under $9 million, promising to deliver it vacant.  One real estate column noted “We see mansion potential here.”   Unsold, the building was relisted in 2013 with an increased price tag of $23 million.

As it did in 1873, No. 435 Broome Street stands out among its neighbors.  The ground floor was been altered; although some elements survive.  The upper floor are deliciously intact; the greatest loss being the leaves and one blossom of the eccentric sunflowers along the frieze high above Broome Street.

non-credited photographs by the author

Temple Court -- 5 Beekman Street

photo by Alice Lum

In 1881 the southwest corner of Beekman and Nassau Streets had seen buildings come and buildings go and was about to see yet one more.  The first production of "Hamlet" in America was staged in the theater built on the site in 1751.  Fourteen years later a meeting of early patriots was held in the theater that resulted in “empathic disapproval” of the 1764 Stamp Act.

Later the dual-purpose building housing Clinton Hall and the Clinton Hotel was erected.  “The Clinton Hotel was one of the best of its time and the table was particularly pleasing to old-fashioned New-Yorkers,” remembered King’s Handbook of New York later.   Clinton Hall was built to house the Mercantile Library which became a fundamental part of the Astor Place Library.

Now banker Eugene Kelly laid plans to replace the old hotel and hall with a modern law office building.   He called upon the architectural firm of Silliman & Farnsworth to design an up-to-the-minute structure with the latest amenities and handsome façade.   Although it was known as the Kelly Building, it was also called (perhaps to attract the desired legal firms and attorneys as tenants) Temple Square—a purposeful reference to the Temple Bar area of London.

King's Handbook of New York City published a sketch of the building in 1892 (copyright expired)

Perhaps coincidentally, architectural historian James Fergusson had restored, on paper, the Temple of Jerusalem in 1878.  Intentionally or not, the architects closely mimicked Fergusson’s twin pyramidal peaks of the temple in their own Temple Square. 

James Fergusson's vision of Herod's Temple included twin pyramical towers -- American Architect & Building News October 5, 1873 (copyright expired)

When the architects revealed the plans in April 1881 at a projected cost of $400,000, The New York Times promised the new building would “be one of the finest in the lower part of the city.”

Completed two years later in 1883, the office building rose ten stories including the mansard roof and towers.  The façade was a combination of limestone imported from Balinasloe, Ireland; red brick, and terra cotta.   King’s Handbook of New York called it “quite stately.”

The architects drew on the Queen Anne and Aesthetic Movement styles, using motifs like ferns, sunflowers and waterbirds, while splashing a bit of Romanesque Revival into the mix.   The pointed towers could be seen for blocks and prompted King’s Handbook to say “The quaint towers of Temple Court, with their high pyramidal roofs, are unmistakable land-marks in the heart of New York, and point the way to the scenes of vast and momentous transactions in business and finance.”

To guarantee that the structure was “fireproof,” the walls were constructed of hollow bricks “and all the safeguards for the prevention of fire were utilized in its construction,” assured The New York Times.

Cast iron knee braces took the shape of fierce winged creatures -- http://tribecacitizen.com/2013/01/03/a-long-deep-look-inside-temple-court/

The interior outshone the impressive exterior.  Inside was an enormous central court that rose through the center of the building to a glass skylight.  “This gives light and ventilation, and a pleasant effect to the interior rooms,” said King’s.  Ornamental railings of cast iron erupted in Aesthetic Movement designs.  Minute details included openwork cast iron knee brackets in the shape of phoenixes and scenic Asian-inspired bas-relief wall panels of storks and rushes.

Aesthetic Movement interior decorations, now covered in layers of paint, were up-to-the-minute style-wise --http://tribecacitizen.com/2013/01/03/a-long-deep-look-inside-temple-court/

“Some of the offices have open fire-places with mantels and grates, and the trim is in hardwood finish throughout,” said the Guide.  Kelly intended that his building be ultra-modern.  King’s Handbook of New York City announced “Temple Court is a modern building in every sense, it is thoroughly equipped with all the latest improvements.  It contains five fine passenger elevators, which give quick and easy access to all the floors; Worthington pumps for supplying water; and other modern conveniences.”

Not everyone was as glowing in their description as was King’s Handbook.  Building News called it “nondescript” and referred to the corner towers as “donkey’s ears.”

photo by Alice Lum

Nonetheless the building quickly filled with law and other professional offices.  The entire ground floor was taken over by the banking rooms and safe deposit vaults of the Nassau Bank.  Within ten years Kelly was ready to expand.  An western annex was designed by Benjanmin Silliman, Jr. in 1890 and completed three years later.  The two buildings were connected by passageways and the united structures created one of the largest office buildings in the city, with frontages on Beekman Street, Nassau Street and Theatre Alley (which owed its name to the original 18^th century building).

Among the first tenants in the new annex, even before it was completed, was Margaret S. Powers who opened her typewriting office in Room 725.  On the same floor were the advertising offices of George C. Pease; the office of architect Arthur D. Pickering in Room 728, and Frederick K. Goodwin and Gustavus C. Henning in Rooms 726 and 727.

Other tenants in the partially finished structure were the American Association of Public Accountants; attorney George Gordon Battle; City Marshalls Cornelius Farley and Charles A. Farley; lawyers D. J. Newland, Joseph P. Mullin, Knight Brothers law firm; and M. W. Russell and J. H. Glover, publishers of the Telegraphic Age.

On the top floor was the apartment of janitor Frank Leslie and his wife.  At 6:30 on the morning of April 2, 1893, the night watchman left for home.  An hour later Leslie woke to find his apartment filling with smoke.  He and his wife attempted to rush down the ten flights of stairs, but were turned back by the smoke and headed out to the roof.

The following day The Times reported “No other persons were in the building, but meantime the fire had been noticed and an alarm sent out.  The Leslies were soon released from their uncomfortable position.”

Nearby on Beekman Street the old World Building had caught fire.  Sparks landed on the cotton screens of the uncompleted Temple Square, setting the new structure ablaze.  Inside, freshly-varnished pine fed the fire.  The flames were fanned by high winds which created havoc in the still-windowless courtyard.

“Fire wrecked a considerable portion of the annex.  Water, in its combat with the flames, did considerable damage on its own account.  Then the wind took a turn, and, careening wildly around the doorless and windowless building, caught hold on all conceivable kinds of papers which had escaped burning and scattered them in all directions,” reported the newspaper.

The Times took advantage of the disastrous combination of fire, water and wind to sarcasticly say “The elements caused havoc yesterday in Temple Court, the big so-called fire-proof office building.”

By 9:00 the fire had been put out, not before extensive damage had been done.  The “fine library of many thousand law books” in the offices of attorneys Knight Brothers was practically destroyed.  The tailoring store on the first floor, Burnham & Phillips, suffered $10,000 loss to its stock (about $230,000 today), the accounting offices of Henry R. M. Cook was gutted and “a couple of wrecked typewriting machines completed the recognizable remnants of Miss Power’s office.” 

The original building was relatively untouched by the fire, “but on four floors of the western block very few offices escaped,” reported The Times.

At the time of the fire architect George H. Edbrooke had been a tenant for over six years.   His suite of offices included Numbers 300, 301 and 302.  The Evening World noted that “When he took the offices first he was regarded as being wealthy, and for a long time his practice was of the most extensive kind.”  Indeed it was, for Edbrooke was responsible for notable buildings such as the Brooklyn Savings Bank and the Real Estate Exchange of Brooklyn.

photo by Alice Lum

But the same year as the fire Edbrooke had “speculated unfortunately” according to the newspaper and he sustained substantial financial losses.

The new year did not improve his circumstances and on January 26, 1894 The New York Times noted “His business until recently had been very good, but dull times made the architect very despondent.”  The Evening World agreed, saying that “Usually he was of the most cheerful disposition, but during the past few days even the elevator man noticed a change in his demeanor…the change was also noticed by the clerks in his office.” 

Because of that, when the architect entered the office around noon on January 25 looking particularly downcast, no one paid much notice.

After half an hour of quiet, broken only by the sound of rustling papers from Edbrooke’s office, the staff was alarmed by the sound of two pistol shots in rapid succession.  They found the architect in his desk chair with two bullet wounds in his temple.

In 1900 a near-catastrophic elevator accident was caused by a pesky rodent.   As elevator attendant Alexander Lundeen was moving some “well-known citizens” between floors the car suddenly ascended rapidly to the roof, then dropped to the basement.  “Through Lundeen’s work and the air cushion the lives of four men were saved,” reported the New-York Tribune.

“A rat coming out for his morning meal had been attracted by the odor of the lubricating oil and had gone to the pulley,” explained the newspaper.  “Just as he was about to enjoy his breakfast the elevator started up, and his body was pulled between the cable and the wheel.  The obstruction offered by the body of the rat was sufficient to throw the cable out of place, and the accident followed.”

The safety of the passengers was attributed to Lundeen’s “cool-headedness and courage,” notwithstanding “the terrible condition of his hands,” said the paper.

Eugene Kelly sold Temple Court for $1.325 million in 1907.   Five years later the Nassau Bank, still in its old headquarters, expanded.  In July 1912 it took the ground floor of the annex and took part of the second floor for its bookkeeping staff.

It was about time, according to The New York Times who said “The queue of depositors during busy periods has so crowded the old banking room as to become an embarrassment.”

photo by Alice Lum

The bank would not be in its new space for long.  In 1914 it consolidated with the Irving National Bank.  After more than three decades in the corner space, the bank was now gone.  On April 14, 1915 The Times reported that “The space is now being converted into seven stores, three of which have already been rented.”  Among the new first-floor tenants was The New York Times’ downtown office.

“The heavy granite piers are being replaced by structural steel,” said the article.

Twenty years later, on August 19, 1934, the same newspaper would casually note that Temple Square “for many years was pointed out as the finest example of modern office building construction in this city.”

Just six years later the magnificent 1881 central court below the skylight was walled up to meet new fire code.   The fine Victorian railings and brackets were covered over, to be forgotten by subsequent generations of businessmen and tenants.

Then, around 2000, the last tenant left and the doors of the once-grand Temple Court were chained shut.  A decade of neglect resulted in the paint and plaster inside to peel and crumble.  The hulking abandoned beauty sat ignored.

Finally in 2012 Commune Hotels & Resorts acquired the property and announced plans to convert the vintage structure to a 297-room boutique hotel with 90 residences.   As demolition started inside, entombed magnificence (albeit faded) emerged.



After more than a century behind false walls, the central court reappeard -- http://tribecacitizen.com/2013/01/03/a-long-deep-look-inside-temple-court/

The project is scheduled to be completed in 2014, including Silliman & Farnsworth’s wonderful  resurrected and restored interiors.