The 1886 St. Anthony of Padua Friary - 149-153 Thompson Street

The Italian-language parish of St. Anthony of Padua was established in 1866 by Franciscan priests, originally sharing the Free Congregational Church at 149-151 Sullivan Street.  By 1882, the Italian population of Greenwich Village had swelled as immigrants continued to settle in the neighborhood.  The blockfront of West Houston Street between Thompson and Sullivan was sold at auction on January 31 that year.  Despite a raging blizzard, Father Anacletus De Angeles attended the sale.  Happily for the parish, no one else did.  He purchased the property, which held three tenements and a portion of an ale brewery for $27,000 (or about $855,000 in 2025 terms).

Although the property was a bargain, the price depleted the parish's coffers.  A year later, on December 15, 1883, the Record & Guide reported, "The Rev. Father Anacletus De Angeles states that the new church will not be erected for his congregation for some two years, owing to the lack of funds."

Indeed, it would be three more years before the cornerstone of the church proper was laid on June 13, 1886.  The architect, Arthur Crook, personally placed a tin box holding copies of New York City newspapers and other documents into the stone.  The Evening Post reported that the church would front Sullivan Street and, "The monastery will cover the remainder of the lot to Thompson Street."

Appropriate to the parish's roots, Arthur Crook designed the Church of St. Anthony of Padua in the Sicilian Romanesque style.  For inspiration for the friary, however, he turned to Paris.  Faced in rough-cut granite and trimmed in limestone, the four-story-and-basement structure was designed in the French Second Empire style.  The lower three floors were delineated by molded cornices, and the fourth took the form of a slate shingled mansard, interrupted at the center by a stone section capped with a four-sided dome.  A copper fleche crowned the structure.

The first ceremony in the still-unfinished church was held on April 3, 1887.  After vespers, reported The New York Times, priests, led by Archbishop Michael Corrigan, "went in procession to the new monastery at 151 Thompson-street, back of the church, and blessed it."  The Sun said, "Fully 1,000 people gathered in the basement of the new Franciscan monastery in Thompson street" for the ceremony, adding, "The monastery is not yet completed.  It will be dedicated in about six months."  The article explained why the blessing had been done so soon.  "A Catholic church or monastery is usually blessed before it is dedicated, in order that mass can be said in it."

The priests and friars had barely moved into the new building before the seed of a scandal germinated.  In June 1887, Bishop Stephen Vincent Ryan excommunicated one of its priests, Father Dent, for what might be called unpriestly behavior.  The issue might have been forgotten had not, five years later, Dent sued the bishop for $100,000 for slander.  The church and the priests within the Thompson Street building initiated what today would be termed a cover-up.

Among the witnesses called to the stand on May 31, 1892 was Rev. Father Julian D'Arpino, "an Italian priest, of 151 Thompson street," according to The Evening World.  The article said that he, "protested against being sworn as he had not been subpoenaed."  Father D'Arpino's protest was fruitless and Justice Barlett ruled that since he was in court he could testify and he was subsequently sworn.

The following day a young woman who lived on MacDougal Street, Maggie Kenny, "created a sensation," as worded by the New-York Tribune, "by asserting that she had been ordered in confessional by a priest not to testify in the case, and also by suddenly saying that three of the priests at St. Anthony's Church were married."  When further pressed, Kenny identified the priests by name.

More positive press was generated with the visit of Monsignor Satolli, the first Apostolic Delegate to the United States, in June 1895.  A priest traveled to Washington D.C. to accompany Satolli to New York.  They arrived on June 12 and were driven "immediately to the monastery of the Franciscan order, at 151 Thompson street," said The Sun.  The next morning, Monsignor Satolli celebrated the Pontifical high mass in the Sullivan Street church, the first of several services he would conduct.

The monastery was a hive of high-powered church officials over the next few days.  The Sun wrote on June 13, "Archbishop Corrigan called on Mgr. Satolli at the monastery soon after his arrival.  Vicar-General Farley paid his respects later."

On June 4, 1896, The World commented, "In the middle of the block in Thompson street, just below Houston, is the Franciscan Monastery.  The work of the monks there quietly reaches out in every direction among the faithful, and they are always busy doing works of mercy among the poor and afflicted."  An important element in that work was what was perhaps the most cherished possession within the monastery--a relic of St. Francis.  The article said, 

During the past two years the monks have become famous through the wonders attributed to the relic of St. Anthony of Padua.  The blind have had sight restored, the crippled have cast aside their crutches, and even those whom physicians counted as beyond relief have recovered suddenly, so it is said, from illness which science could not fathom of cure.

The World asserted, "Hundreds throng the chapel every Tuesday.  They come from all over the country and from every station in life."

Among the parishioners at the time was Terrence H. Forrest, who lived at 73 Bedford Street.  For years he had suffered from dropsy (known today as edema).  It eventually waned his strength until in the spring of 1896 his condition was dire.  Father McCabe of the Church of St. Anthony of Padua arrived at the house to administer last rites.  He also brought the relic of St. Anthony.  On June 4, The World reported, "He anointed the sick man's body with it while all around prayed, with heads bowed."  

The article recounted, "Almost immediately, it is said, the man rallied, and from that moment grew stronger and stronger until now, his family declare, he enjoys his former health."  Neither Father McCabe nor Terrence Forrest would discuss the matter.  "In the neighborhood, however, the case is much talked about, and Mr. Forrest is looked upon by many as one saved from the grave," said the article.

Nearly two decades later and after being handled thousands of times, the gold case that held the relic was in bad shape.  On June 15, 1914, The New York Times explained, "The receptacle which contained the relic became worn out through much handling."  But now, said the article, the "fathers of the Franciscan Monastery at 151 Thompson Street are exhibiting with a great deal of pride a solid gold receptacle which was made to contain the sacred relic of the bones of St. Anthony."  

Italian-born parishioners had donated "gold rings, bracelets, brooches, pins and coins" to be melted to create the box.  The Times said, "Many of them gave the fathers all of their jewelry...The receptacle is 16-1/2 inches high, and is studded with emeralds, rubies, and pearls."

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The monastery was the scene of a horrifying tragedy on November 4, 1938.  At 4:00 that morning Louis Adduci, the 26-year-old doorman, smelled smoke.  He ran throughout the halls shouting, "Fire!"  As he headed back down, he was blocked by flames and was forced to jump to the rear yard.  As the fire roared up the wooden staircase, the priests were trapped on the upper floors.  The New York Times reported that they, "had to jump out windows to an adjoining building or cling to ledges."

Brother John Chiazza was a 27-year-old missionary worker who had arrived in America from Italy the previous year.  His room was on the top floor at the rear.  The Times explained, "The flames kept him from the other end of the hall, where a staircase led to the roof."  His charred body was found kneeling by the bed, "with his hands clasped as if in prayer."

Rev. Luige Vitale rushed to a fourth floor window.  "When flames began licking at his feet," according to The New York Times, the 65-year-old "smashed a window with his hand and leaped about fifteen feet to the second-story roof of the settlement house next door."  He fractured a leg in the fall.

The New York Times, November 5, 1938

Firefighters made a "spectacular" rescue of 40-year-old Rev. Virgil Liucci.  Wakened by Adduci's warnings, he tried to get to the hallway, but was forced back by the flames.  After kneeling to recite a short prayer before a picture of St. Anthony, he tied his bed sheet to his cassock and a radiator and started to lower himself to the street.  "The flames were shooting out of the window when he was about to jump," recounted The Times, when he heard the fire engines approaching.  

Like Brother Chiazza, Julius Tappero, the monastery's 65-year-old cook, did not escape the blaze.  His body, too, was found in a kneeling position in his room on the third floor.

The following day, The New York Times reported, "Three of the priests were injured, one burned so badly he was still on the serious list in Columbus Hospital last night."  The priests temporarily moved into the parish's settlement house during the renovations.

A subsequent renovation, completed in 1953, created classrooms and a bowling alley in the basement, and an auditorium on the first floor.  Called Memorial Hall, it became the venue for various meetings, festivities and events, like the St. Anthony's Playgroup's rummage sale in December 1979.

Arthur Crook's imposing granite building continues to play an important part of the parish's outreach as well as an architectural ornament within the district.

photographs by the author

The 1886 Immanuel Lutheran Church -- 122 East 88th Street

Crooks' austere design reflected the Germanic heritage of the congregants.

By 1860 the German population in New York City had topped 100,000.  There were 20 German churches, two German-language newspapers, and fully 50 schools were taught in German.   Already the Lower East Side neighborhood around Third Avenue and the Bowery was becoming predominately German.

But a few of the immigrants struck out for the Yorkville area sixty blocks north where development was just beginning; away from the crowded conditions downtown.  In 1863 a congregation of Lutherans established  Die Evangelisch Lutheraner Immanuelsgemeinde Ungeaenderter Augsburger Konfession zu Yorkville.  It was a name that did not easily roll off the tongue and would be known as Immanuel Lutheran Church.

The group erected its first church on East 87^th Street, but within two decades was ready for a substantial new church.   English-born architect Arthur Crooks was commissioned to design the building.  Crooks had established his reputation in designing many ecclesiastical structures in New York and Connecticut, mostly for Roman Catholic parishes.  Immanuel Lutheran Church would be one of Crooks’ last works.  He unexpectedly died in December of 1888.

Land was purchased at the southwest corner of East 88^th Street and Lexington Avenue.   For inspiration the architect looked to contemporary German and Northern European churches—severe Gothic structures with dignity and strength.   

At 1:30 on October 31, 1885 an imposing ceremony marked the cornerstone laying.  After a short service in the 87^th Street church, about 700 congregants marched to the construction site where the basement and a small portion of the exterior walls had been completed.

Despite the cold, nearly 1000 people shivered through the three hour service.  Inside the polished granite stone were placed an English and a German Bible, a collection of German hymns and other documents relating to the history and current members of the church.

The New York Times promised that the $90,000 building would “be in the Gothic style of Maine granite, with limestone trimmings and with massive buttresses.”

The article got everything right except the buttresses.  The completed Immanuel Lutheran Church was both austere and powerful.  A 200-foot bell tower anchored the corner of the building and provided its main focal point.   The “massive buttresses,” owing to the restrictions of the plot, were scaled down.

In celebration of the building’s dedication, Empress Auguste Victoria of Germany donated three bells for the tower.  The empress, wife of Emperor Wilhelm II, would be the last of the German Empresses.  The large bronze bells were cast in 1886 by G. E. Gollen von C. Dob & Son in Stettin, Germany.  Referring to verse 13:13 in 1 Corinthians—“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love.”—the bells were inscribed “Glaube, Hoffnung, and Liebe;” Faith, Hope, Love.

Inside, the church stretched 100 feet to the back wall and soared 75 feet to the vaulted plaster ceiling.  The large space could seat 1,200 worshipers.

Around 1900 an elaborately carved reredos from the Black Forest area of Germany was installed.  The magnificent work became the focal point of the apse with nearly life-sized wooden sculptures of Christ, Moses and John the Baptist standing within complex Gothic canopies.

The magnificent reredos, from about 1900, was carved in the Black Forest -- photo nycago.org

The 20^th century brought difficulties for German congregations.   The General Slocum disaster in 1904 that decimated the congregation of St. Mark’s Evangelical Lutheran Church on East 6^th Street drove most of the Germans from that neighborhood to Yorkville.  World War I and II brought with them a bias and suspicion against things German, and churches like Immanuel Lutheran struggled through years of uncomfortable tension.

The church underwent a renovation in 1953; but there would be a much greater rebuilding project in store.

In late Spring of 1969 Gimbels Department Store began construction of its new Gimbels East branch on Lexington Avenue between 86^th and 87^th Streets.     As crews dynamited bedrock for the foundation, the church trembled.  Ann Siemer, church secretary, notified the general contractor, Conforti & Eisele, and then the sub-contractor, the LeMura Contracting Company, telling them that plaster was falling from the church ceiling.

“Every time I heard a blast,” Siemer told reporters, “I felt a slight tremor in the church.”

The blasting continued and then, on the morning of June 20, the tremors became a disaster.   The vaulted plaster ceiling collapsed.  The entire east side of the interior was buried in plaster and wooden laths, destroying the pews and damaging the stained glass windows beyond repair.  Neither the altar nor the irreplaceable reredos was harmed.

The exposed beams were kept as architectural design in the restoration -- photo Immanuel Lutheran Church

In the restoration, the vaulted ceiling was not replaced; instead the open beams and truss work were left exposed.  In 1973 replacement windows were installed; the work of Belgian-born New York City artist, Benoit Gilsoul.    Gilsoul used faceted glass that gives the windows dimension and diffuses the sunlight.

The Yorkville neighborhood is no longer primarily German.  Amid the trendy, upscale atmosphere of the area, however, the sober Immanuel Lutheran Church still stands, anchoring the corner as it has for nearly a century and a half.

non-credited photographs taken by the author

The 1886 Church of St. Anthony of Padua -- Sullivan and Houston Streets

photo nyago.com

In 1850 there were 4,531 Italian immigrants in the United States.  Ten years later the number had more than doubled.  With no Italian-speaking parish in New York City, Archbishop Hughes worried about the growing number of Italian Catholics who had no place to worship.  An Italian priest was given the charge of establishing a small chapel on Canal Street dedicated to Saint Anthony of Padua.

Cardinal John McCloskey, in 1865, entreated the group of Franciscans who had settled in upstate New York to set up an Italian parish to replace the little chapel.  Father Leo Pacillo responded, establishing the Italian national parish of St. Anthony of Padua in 1866.  The parish used the former Free Congregational Church at 149-151 Sullivan Street near West Houston Street.  Somewhat ironically, its first official act was the baptism on March 23, 1866 of an Irish baby, Elizabeth Kelly.

In 1882, the land adjacent to the church formerly occupied by a brewery was scheduled for auction.  By now, the church structure was inadequate for the quickly increasing membership and the parish desperately needed the land in order to expand.  On the day of the auction, January 31, the city was hit with a major blizzard.  Father Anacletus DeAngelis was the only bidder who made it to the auction through the storm.

English-born Arthur Crook, who would design several Manhattan churches, was selected as the architect.  The Italian congregation asked for a structure of which they could be proud–one on a par with the Old Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.  Crook created a granite faced Romanesque building reminiscent of churches the Italians remembered from their homeland.  It would be the first church constructed by an Italian community in the United States.

On June 14, 1886, Archbishop Michael Corrigan presided over the laying of the cornerstone.  Inside was a tin box holding newspapers and several gold and silver coins.

As the church slowly took shape, marble artisans in Carrara, Italy were at work on the altar, communion rails and pulpit.  The marble work alone would cost $12,000.  The contract for the stained glass windows was finalized, costing $10,000, and a 2,400-pipe organ was being built by George Jardine & Son at a cost of $8,000.

At last, on June 10, 1888, the church was dedicated.  Stretching back 150 feet, it was 75 feet wide and rose 100 feet at its highest point.  Above the central of the three entrances stood a life-size figure of Saint Anthony.  Dominating the main façade was a 26-foot diameter rose window.  Behind the church and connected to the monastery that fronted Thompson Street was a campanile housing three large bells.  The largest, weighing 5,000 pounds, was dedicated to St. Anthony of Padua; the second, weighing 3,000 pounds, to “Blessed Virgin Conceived Without Sin,” and the smallest at 1,500 pounds was dedicated to St. Francis of Assisi.

Inside the space soared upward to 86 feet.  There were 33 stained glass windows–14 in the clerestory, 14 along the side aisles and five in the sanctuary. Fifteen hundred worshippers could be accommodated.  The total cost of the church and monastery was $200,000.  Tall cast iron columns with gilded capitals were painted to simulate veined marble.  According to The New York Times, “Boldness of outline and perfection of proportion have been relied on rather than gaudy decoration.”

The life-size status of St. Anthony stands beneath the 26-foot rose window -- photo by Michelle Rick

Throughout the coming decades the parish would be known for its colorful Feast of Saint Anthony.  Although the feast started out rather solemnly, it evolved into a carefree, week-long street fest of Italian food.

In 1905, The New York Times reported on the feast: 

Little Italy’s dark, dismal streets, with their towering tenements, many of which shelter thirty families of astonishing size, were transformed yesterday into a riot of color and gayety in honor of the feast of St. Anthony of Padua.  All work was abandoned, men, women, and children donned their holiday attire, and everybody kept open house for visitors, who came from all parts of the city and State to participate.

The newspaper described the “pinwheel and paper flower men,” the organ grinder with his pet monkey, and musicians in colorful uniforms.  But most evident was the array of food.  The article described, “fancifully molded cheeses made of goats’ milk.  Piles of tomatoes and cucumbers were on the pushcarts.  They were bought and eaten as they were, and it was no uncommon sight to see an Italian child just able to toddle about gnawing away at a big green cucumber with apparent delight and relish.”

In April 1914, two young women from St. Louis sent a small box of gold trinkets to the church, “expressing the hope that they might be devoted to the honor of St. Anthony.”  The following Sunday the gift was announced from the pulpit.  Congregants soon began showering the church with jewelry and precious metal items.

“Within two weeks we had 200 gifts,” remarked Father Silvione, “and in another month 500 had made donations.  They were mostly gold rings, and some came from all parts of the East.”

By June, the priest had had a gold reliquary, studded with gems, fashioned from the donated jewelry, which was put on view during the Feast of St. Anthony that month.

The church in 1930 as Houston Street is being widened -- photo NYPL Collection

Tragedy occurred on November 4, 1938.  That morning the monastery caught fire and quickly spread.  One young lay brother, here only one year from Italy, perished along with a cook.  Priests were trapped, some jumping out windows to adjoining buildings or clinging to window ledges praying for help.  Seven priests were saved by firefighters.

Father Fagan proved to be a true hero.  He had escaped, but rushed back into the blazing building to rescue Father Louis Vitale.  He returned yet again to rescue Father Bonaventure Pons.  With flames surrounding him, Father Fagan jumped from a window to a roof below.  He died of his burns five days later.

The Church of St. Anthony of Padua is still run by the Franciscan brothers and while its congregation is more ethnically mixed, the annual Feast of Saint Anthony goes on, memorialized in the an unforgettable scene in the movie The Godfather.