Le Brun's 1889 Hook & Ladder Co. 14 - 120 East 125th Street

 

image via the Historic Districts Council

In 1865, "suburban" fire companies were established in the mostly rural Harlem district.  Less busy than their urban counterparts, the fire fighters were given less pay and no horse-drawn equipment.  Included in these companies was Suburban Ladder No. 14 at 120 East 125th Street.

As Harlem developed, Suburban Ladder No. 14 was replaced by Hook & Ladder Company 14 on January 1, 1868.  Still using the station house on December 18, 1881, the New York Dispatch described the company as "one of the best truck companies in the upper part of the city.  It has good officers and men, the latter being under excellent discipline."  But in 1888, the company was in serious need of modern accommodations.

A year earlier, on June 18, 1887, The Real Estate Record & Guide commented that fire stations were an exception to the very few "decent-looking" buildings erected by the city.  "The Fire Department...had the good sense to employ architects of repute to design their buildings, and selected Messrs. N. Le Brun & Son for that purpose."  Napoleon Le Brun had been appointed official architect for the department in 1879.  Before the turn of the century he and his son would be responsible for the design of 42 fire houses.  

Napoleon Le Brun & Son filed plans for a "four-story brick building" on April 27, 1888, projecting the cost at $16,500--or about $576,000 in 2026.  Using a variation of its typical Queen Anne design, the firm added touches of Romanesque Revival in the undressed brownstone base, the medieval decoration carved into the second floor lintel, the rounded stone piers at the sides that terminated in carved finials, and the creative wrought-iron jib, or bracket, in the form of a dragon.  (The jib was used to haul hay bales to the attic.)  Le Brun & Son stepped away from both styles in designing the attic as a slate-shingled mansard in the Second Empire style.

Perhaps the first tragedy for Hook & Ladder Company 14 came on June 9, 1895.  Patrick Conlin had been with the company since 1883 when he was 25.  He was headed to work at 2:15 that afternoon when an alarm of fire at 165 East 112th Street came in.  The truck raced down Lexington Avenue "at full speed," as reported by The New York Times.  The article said, "he saw the truck going by and made a run to jump on the long rail which extends along the side of the truck."  Conlin slipped and fell.  The rear wheels "passed over Conlin's body, leaving him mangled and unconscious."  The 37-year-old died later that afternoon.

Rescues from burning buildings in the 19th century sometimes required dangerous, nearly gymnastic, tactics.  On September 29, 1896, Hook & Ladder Company 14 responded to a fire at 2365 Third Avenue.  When they arrived, the fire had engulfed the first floor and spread to the second.  Frederick Thompson, who occupied rooms on the fourth floor, had been asleep and was the only tenant not to escape.  Two firefighters, Thomas Corrigan and John Lutz, "saw his predicament and hastened to the rescue."

They went to the top floor of the the three-story building next door.  The Sun reported,  "Corrigan stood with one foot on the cornice of the house and reached with the other foot to the lintel of the third story of the burning house, at the same time grasping the sill of Thompson's window."  When he was certain of "the firmness of his grasp on the window sill," Corrigan threw his other arm around Thompson's waist and drew him across the void.  

Corrigan straddled the cornice and lintel of two buildings to rescue the victim.  The Sun, September 30, 1896 (copyright expired)

The Sun said, "When Lutz had taken Thompson in his grasp and drew him over on the roof a cheer went up from the crowd below, and the cheer was repeated when Corrigan climbed to the roof from his perilous position, and all three were safe."

The company's truck was pulled by three horses, the oldest of which was Paddy, who was always in the center.  The company acquired him in 1871 when he was six years old.  At the time of Corrigan's and Lutz's remarkable rescue, Paddy was "if not the oldest horse in the department, he was one of the oldest," said the New York Herald two years later.

Paddy had an unexpected best buddy, Chief, described by the newspaper as "a splendid greyhound."  In 1891, Chief was brought to the station house as a puppy.  The New York Herald said he "blundered" into Paddy's stall.  The firefighters were alarmed, expecting "to see him kicked or trampled."  Instead, "the big horse only put his head down inquiringly, and Chief licked his nose in token of good fellowship.  From that time the two were fast friends."  Every evening, Chief would bed down on the straw in a corner of Paddy's stall.  When an alarm would ring, Chief would bark, Paddy would whinny "with all the power of his throat" and the greyhound would race through the streets next to the galloping horses.

At 4:00 on the morning of August 19, 1897, Chief began wailing.  Some of the firefighters, said the New York Herald, "yelled at Chief and told him to be quiet, but he only clamored the louder."  Captain Terpeny send a man down to see what was wrong.  "That dog isn't carrying on that way for fun," he said.  And he was right.

The article said, "The big horse was very sick and his friend had been calling for help."  The FDNY's veterinarian diagnosed Paddy with cholic.  The New York Herald reported:

The horse became weaker and weaker, and finally fell down.  Chief stayed with him, licking his face and howling mournfully until the end, which was about 7 o'clock.  Then it was with great difficulty that the men got him out of the stall.

The newspaper concluded the article saying, "There is talk of giving the horse a ceremonial burial, with Chief as principal mourner."

via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

On February 1, 1907, the New-York Tribune reported that the station house of Hook & Ladder Company 14 would be receiving updates by architect Edward L. Middleton.  The renovations, costing the equivalent of more than $700,000 today, included "new concrete and iron floors...for the apparatus and the sliding pole floor opening enlarged."

The new floors had much to do with modern motorized equipment.  Hook & Ladder Company 14's speedy fire trucks greatly impressed Walter J. Albert in 1922.  On the night of May 1 that year he made "a little wager" with two friends, as described by the New-York Tribune.  He bet them that Engine 14 "could get from its house at 120 East 125th Street to the [alarm] box at 133d Street and Madison Avenue in three minutes."  The friends took the bet and Albert pulled the alarm.

The newspaper said, "When Albert was caught near the box at 133d Street the firemen were in a mood to cripple him.  It was the third time they had been called out on false alarms."  The article said that Patrolman Patrick Cushen, who caught Albert, "had to protect him from the irate fireman."

At the station house, Albert confessed that he was betting on the speed of the fire engine.

"Did you win?" asked one of the detectives.

"Naw, they were two minutes slow."

By the second half of the 20th century, the personality of the congested Harlem neighborhood around the firehouse had greatly changed.  City employees like policemen and firefighters were often viewed with suspicion and derision.  At around 2:00 on the morning of December 27, 1961, Hook & Ladder Company 14's truck was passing a crowd outside a bar at Park Avenue and 123rd Street.  Suddenly a bottle smashed against the side of the fire truck.  The New York Times reported that the truck stopped "and a fight ensued."

The article said, "The street fight was broken up by an unidentified railroad detective.  He drew his pistol and forced back the crowd as it pummeled the firemen."  In the end, four fire fighters and one civilian were injured.  

In 1975, Hook & Ladder Company 14 was relocated to 2282 Third Avenue.  Its former firehouse was officially decommissioned in 2003.  Napoleon Le Brun & Son's striking firehouse sat vacant and neglected for years.  Then, on August 31, 2014, The Real Deal reported, "An abandoned 19th-century firehouse in East Harlem is getting a new lease on life as a cultural center."

Six years earlier, Council Speaker Melissa Mark-Viverito had saved the structure from the auction block by promising that it would be repurposed as a cultural center.  The Real Deal reported, "Now the Caribbean Cultural Center African Diaspora Institute has been selected as the building's developer."  The Daily News reported that the organization would spent $5.5 million on restoration and renovations to the building.

photograph by Steven Bornholtz

Today, the Caribbean Cultural Center African Diaspora Institute's website explained that it "preserves and presents African Diaspora cultures, promoting arts and culture as tools for personal transformation, community-building, and social justice."

The Croft Bros. Building -- No. 26 East 125th Street

photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

In 1888 the jewelry store of I. Lewkowitz had stood at the corner of Grand and Eldridge Streets for 28 years.  Squarely in the midst of what had become the center of Manhattan’s Jewish community, its high-quality merchandise earned it the nickname “the Tiffany of the east side.”

At the same time, far to the north, the Harlem neighborhood was developing as a vibrant suburb.  By now other Jewish merchants like Louis Blumstein, who moved his Blumstein’s Department Store to 125^th Street in 1886, recognized the area’s potential.   On June 9, 1888 The Engineering & Building Record reported that I. Lewkowitz planned a brick “flat and stores” building at No. 26 East 125^th Street.  Designed by architect W. Graul, the ambitious project was to cost $38,000.

Something delayed the plans and the lot sat unimproved for three years.  Then in 1891 The Engineering & Building Record updated its readers.  The architect was now Richard Berger and the plans were for a three-story “brick, iron, stone and terra cotta building.”  Lewkowitz apparently scaled back the designs, for the projected cost was now $30,000—in the neighborhood of $800,000 today.

On May 23, 1891 The Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide chimed in, noting “the building will be finished in ash throughout, supplied with elevator, steam heat, and electric light and other improvements.”  The modern amenities would make the structure the last word in up-to-date commercial spaces.

Berger’s completed structure was light and airy.  His use of cast iron to support the upper floor openings resulted in near walls of glass; the windows separated by delicate pencil-thin columns with delicate foliate capitals.  The beige brick was relieved with white bands of limestone, intricate terra cotta panels, and a row of deeply-molded fans below the cornice.

photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

At the time of the building’s completion Croft Bros. was one of Manhattan’s prominent carpeting dealers.  The firm had been based at No. 2161 Third Avenue, but now moved into the commercial space in the East 125^th Street building.   One of the founders, Silas C. Croft, was highly active in Republican politics and was a favorite among the Tammany Hall bosses. 

The firm offered floor cloths and window shades as well -- Harlem of Today -- 1893, copyright expired

Silas Croft’s political connections were partially responsible for the firm’s astonishing success.  In 1896 The Carpet and Upholstery Trade Review noted that although once suppliers like W. & J. Sloane and Arnold, Constable & Co. were routinely asked to give bids for carpeting for civic projects; now “all were referred to Croft Brothers, of One Hundred and Twenty-fifth street.”  To avoid messy red tape, “the superintendent is careful to divide up the work into jobs of less than $1,000, and thus keep within the law, which compels advertising for all contracts of $1,000 and over.”

Silas C. Croft cut a dashing 1890s figure -- The Carpet & Upholstery Trade Review, January 1, 1896 (copyright expired)

When Mayor Lafayette Strong offered the already high-powered Croft the position of Commissioner of Charities in 1895, reformers licked their lips.   His connection to Croft Brothers, a firm widely known for participating in graft, could result in a failed civil service certificate.  The crafty Croft was one step ahead of them, though.

On New Year’s Day 1896 The Carpet & Upholstery Trade Review reported that reformers “have been kicking, but unfortunately for them Silas C. Croft is said to have retired from the firm of Croft Brothers a week before he was appointed a Charities Commissioner, and there is no evidence before the Comptroller that S. C. Coft has sold any carpets to the city through Captain Graham’s bureau since he became a Commissioner, and consequently has not violated the Consolidation act.”

The building suffers neglect--wood rot, rust and cracks threaten the facade.  photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com 

By the turn of the century The Trow Directory listed only one brother, Charles P. Croft, involved in the carpeting firm.  Nevertheless, Silas’s association with the building seems to have survived in Tammany meetings in the upstairs meeting rooms.   But at least once, in 1906, the Lewkowitz family stepped in.

A turbulent rivalry was playing out between John F. Cowan and Percival E. Nagle for the Tammany leadership of the 13^th Assembly District.  The Lewkowitzes were nervous about the safety of their chairs and tables when a meeting was planned for October 4.

The New-York Tribune reported “Trouble is looked for to-night between the Nagle and Cowan factions at the assembling of the 21^st Senatorial District Tammany convention, which has been called to meet at No. 125 East 125^th street.  The owner of the hall sent word to leaders of the factions that he would not allow them to use the premises, fearing that damage would be done to the furniture.”

By 1911 Croft Brothers had moved out.  In its place was Fisher Furniture which would remain here for years.   Little changed at No. 125 East 125^th Street until 1926 when the aging building was updated.  The main floor and mezzanine remained store space while the second floor was used as a stock room.  The former meeting rooms on the top floor became a showroom.

In 1945, after 54 years of ownership, the Lewkowitz family sold the building which now stood in a much-changed neighborhood.   The new owners, the 26 East 125^th Street Corporation, converted much of the interior space to light manufacturing.

Then 14 years later another renovation resulted in a “dance hall” on the second floor.  Called the Tusken Ballroom, it was used at least once as a meeting place by Malcolm X and his recently-formed Muslim Mosque, on June 22, 1964.

photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

For years the first floor, where Croft Brothers once sold carpeting in shady Tammany deals, was home to a Salvation Army Thrift Store; while upstairs the Tusken Ballroom became the Trowel & Square Ballroom, a nod to the Masonic Lodge that shared the space.  The façade at sidewalk level was covered over with flimsy siding; hopefully preserving at least some of Berger’s original design beneath.  The building was put on the market in 2014 for $8 million, “delivered vacant,” opening the door for possible restoration or brutal abuse.

The 1917 NY Edison Bldg -- Nos. 13-15 East 125th Street

photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

By 1888 the Harlem Democratic Club was large and wealthy enough to convert the two rowhouses at Nos. 13 and 15 East 125^th Street into its clubhouse.   That year, on September 5, the club members admired a new addition to its rooms.

“The life-size picture of Allen G. Thurman, presented by Mr. Thurman to the club, has been placed in the library,” reported The Sun.  “Both the picture and framed autograph letter from Mr. Thurman to the club attracted the attention of the members during the evening.”

The club members in the up-and-coming Harlem area were proud when Charles W. Dayton was appointed Postmaster of New York in 1893.  Dayton was given a reception in the clubhouse, described by The Sun on June 9.  “The club house, at 13 and 15 East 125^th street, was tastefully decorated with flags and banners, and there was a profusion of flowers and palms on the platform.”

In his remarks, club president Daniel P. Hays reflected on the Harlem neighborhood.  “Harlem is getting to be a great place…Now that we have a Harlem man as Postmaster we can expect the Post Office to move up to Mount Morris Park.”

Hays’s optimistic prediction did not come to pass.

By 1906 the club had moved to No. 106 West 126^th Street and in 1911 the combined houses on 125^th Street were sold at auction.  The sale notice described them as “Two 3-story and basement brick and brownstone Dwellings, utilized for business purposes.  To be sold as one parcel.”  The buyer was Barnett & Co. who retained the properties for four years, before selling to developer Henry J. Hemmens.

Hermanns wasted no time in demolishing the houses.  On November 4, 1915 The New York Times reported that “The two old three-story brownstone dwellings at 13 and 15 East 125^th Street are being torn down to make way for an eight-story commercial building.”

The eight-story building would never materialize and, instead, Hemmens erected a three-story store and office building for the New York Edison Company.   It would be the firm’s entry into the Harlem neighborhood.  Here The New York Edison (which would later become Consolidated Edison Company of New York, Inc., or ConEd) would offer both electrical and gas service to homes and businesses.

On April 29, 1916 the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide reported that construction of the N.Y. Edison Co. building was about to commence.  Architect William Weissenberger, Jr., Hemmen’s architect of choice, had drawn up the plans.  The estimated cost of the structure was set at $50,000—about $1 million today.

Completed within the year, Weissenberger’s white terra cotta-clad building had a lot going on.  Classical elements  appeared as antefixae which lined up over the entrance and perched above the pencil-thin cast iron pilasters of the first floor.  The third floor sat above a wavecrest frieze, capped by a fasces-shaped cornice and parapet.

The long panel with exposed wood would have announced the company's name, originally.  photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

Weissenberger gave a nod to the electrical company tenant by adding two torch-shaped lighting fixtures on either side of the first floor, and intricately-detailed caducei that flanked the second story openings.  (The caduceus was the staff carried by Hermes or Mercury; often confused with the medical symbol which has only one snake and no wings.)

Delicate engaged columns separate the openings.  A remarkably-executed terra cotta caduceus embellished a pier. photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com    

On April 23, 1917 The New York Edison Company announced it was “Ready for Service” in an advertisement in The Sun.  “The Harlem branch of The New York Edison Company puts all the added resources of its new office at the service of the public.  Its aim is the satisfaction and convenience of our customers.”

The firm would remain in its 125^th Street building through, at least, the 1920s.  As the middle of the last century neared, the demographics of the Harlem neighborhood had changed drastically.  Not only had it established itself as the center of Manhattan’s black population; immigrant groups too were settling here.  In 1941 the former New York Edison Company building had become the clubhouse of the women’s auxiliary of the Estonian Educational Society.

The Society boasted 60 members.  The New York Times, on February 9 that year, explained “Besides raising funds for the society through bazaars and shows, the women arrange weekly folk dances and conduct classes to teach children their mother language.”

As the decades passed, the 125^th Street neighborhood suffered a decline.  By the 1960s the terra cotta building at No. 15-17 East 125^th Street had become a printing office, owned by Ira Rosenberg.   The modest operation found itself in the news in September 1965 when it turned out a political flyer ordered by Controller Abraham D. Beame’s office.

Beame was running for mayor that year.  His chief rival for the Democratic nomination was Paul R. Screvane.  On September 10, 1965 Screvane’s campaign manager, Stanley Lowell, accused the Beame campaign of illegal activities—specifically pointing to the flyer printed by Ira Rosenberg.

“Mr. Lowell noted that the flyer, which depicted Mr. Screvane as arguing that Negroes and Puerto Ricans ‘must wait’ to get into trade unions, did not show the name of its sponsor,” reported The New York Times the following day.  When Rosenberg was questioned, he said the flyer was ordered by “an uptown Beame office,” but insisted he did not know which one.

A reporter asked why it did not include the name of the sponsor.  “That I wouldn’t know,” replied the printer.

Chunks of terra cotta have fallen away; but overall the facade survives relatively intact.  photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

Within seven years the building had been converted to a shady operation named the Taurus the Bull Social Club.  Early on the morning of October 8, 1972 a man appeared at the 25^th Precinct station house complaining he had been “pistol-whipped, threatened with a knife and robbed” at the club.

Patrolmen Michael Bronski and Leonard Leggio arrived at the club shortly before 6 a.m.  When they knocked on the door it was quickly opened and gunshots were fired at them from inside.  One hit Bronski in the shoulder.  Although Patrolman Leggio attempted to return fire, the door was slammed shut and locked.

It did not take long before reinforcements arrived and broke down the door.   Inside were 13 men, nine of which attempted to escape down a fire escape.

The police immediately arrested four persons “and seized five loaded handguns and small quantities of heroin, cocaine and marijuana,” reported in The New York Times the following day.   “The nine persons who fled were seized after they had allegedly broken into another building seeking an escape route.”

 

The ground floor has been frightfully altered.  photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

Today the space once occupied by the disreputable social club is home to the Holy Ghost Pentecostal Faith Church for All Nations.   Although the terra cotta façade has suffered major abuse and the street level has been badly altered; William Weissenberger’s handsome design still shines through.