The Lost Clinton Hall - Beekman and Nassau Streets

A public pump sits opposite Clinton Hall.  The fence surrounds the churchyard of the Old Brick Church.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Established in 1820 and opened on February 1821 at 49 Fulton Street, the Mercantile Library Association afforded a reading room and library for young clerks just beginning their business careers.  In 1829, its members established the Clinton Hall Association (named for beloved New York City Mayor and Governor DeWitt Clinton, who died the previous year) to erect a formidable new building.  The site chosen was formerly occupied by the 1761 theater in which Hamlet was first staged in the United States.  At the southwest corner of Beekman and Nassau Streets, it faced the 1767 Old Brick Church.  Scribner's Monthly would remark decades later, "Beekman street was pretty well up town in those days."

The association hired 26-year-old architect Alexander Jackson Davis to design the multi-use structure.  (Davis partnered with Ithiel Town, a respected and well-established architect, that same year.  Although it would make sense that Clinton Hall was a collaboration of the pair, only Davis is listed as its designer.)  

On July 21, 1829, The Evening Post reported on the cornerstone laying ceremony.  It began at noon with "a procession composed of the Trustees and the Clergymen, who were to officiate,...the subscribers, the Mercantile Library Association, and the members of other public Institutions" from City Hall to the site.  The stone was laid "in the midst of a large assembly of citizens" by Isaac Carow, vice president of the Chamber of Commerce, and Alexander Jackson Davis.

Dedicated on November 2, 1830, Davis's Greek Revival design successfully disguised the fact that the structure was, in fact, two separate buildings.  The New York Annual Register of 1831 explained, "The cost of the building was about $50,000, independent of Clinton Hotel, the property of Philip Hone, Esq. which is under the same roof, fronting on Beekman-street, and cost about the same as the Hall."  (Not coincidentally, Philip Hone was the chairman of the Mercantile Library Association.)  The combined construction cost would translate to about $3.5 million in 2026.  

The New-York Annual Register, 1831 (copyright expired)

The granite base was girded by a low flight of stone stairs.  It contained stores--six in the Clinton Hall portion and two in the hotel--that provided income.  The upper three floors were faced in brick "stuccoed in imitation of stone," said the New-York Annual Register.  Calling it a "noble and substantial edifice," the register said Clinton Hall was "dedicated to Literature, Science, and the Arts."  Within the upper floors were the Mercantile Library's large lecture room, library,  and reading room.  (The lecture room could be rented by outside groups.)

Philip Hone, who served as mayor from 1826 to 1827, hired Joseph M. Bispham to run his hotel.  On October 20, 1830, The Evening Post reported, "This elegant and commodious establishment is not completed...We understand Mr. Bispham is especially qualified to discharge the duties of the Host, and that his gentlemanly manners will render Clinton Hotel a place of fashionable resort and temporary residence."  The article added, "Its connexion [sic] with Clinton Hall will always preserve it as a conspicuous point in the public eye."

The Clinton Hall Bookstore was among the first of the commercial tenants.  The New-York Annual Register, 1831 (copyright expired)

In addition to housing the Mercantile Library, Clinton Hall was designed to accommodate long-term tenants.  Perhaps the first was the National Academy of Design, which moved in in 1830.  Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly said that starting in 1831, the academy's annual exhibitions "were held in much more commodious and altogether more suitable rooms, on the third floor of the Mercantile Library, in Clinton Hall."  The article reported that the National Academy of Design paid an annual rent of $500 (or $18,000 today) "for these apartments."

On November 11, 1831, The Evening Post noted that the National Academy would be opening its "school of the Antique," saying, "The instructors will be the gentlemen of the council."

from the collection of the New York Public Library

To pay for the building's construction, the directors sold Clinton Hall Stock.  But, "the sickness which shortly after prevailed in the city," as worded by The Evening Post, abruptly halted the fund-raising.  The city was ravaged by a cholera epidemic that took the lives of between 3,500 and 3,515 New Yorkers.  Roughly one third of the city's residents fled northward.  On January 9, 1832, The Evening Post reported, "Eighteen thousand dollars yet remain to be subscribed for, ere the Board of Trustees can proceed with vigor to the attainment of the magnificent ends aimed by this institution."

But at the time of the article, things were returning to normal.  On the same page was a notice that, "A course of lectures is to be commenced to-morrow evening, at Clinton Hall...The subject is Political Economy."

New York University's 1916 Annual Catalogue would recall its early years: "The work began with instruction in the Undergraduate College with special courses in Mathematics and Physical Science in the fall of 1832, the classes being held in Clinton Hall."

Although slavery was abolished in New York City in 1827, the city's economic dependence on the South placed its abolitionists overwhelmingly in the minority.  That was vividly shown in a passage in The American Metropolis:

To Tammany belongs the honor of the first victory over abolitionists in New York City.  In 1833 abolitionists attempted to hold their first meeting at Clinton Hall (Nassau and Beekman Streets).  It was prevented by a riotous crowd, which promptly celebrated its victory by adjourning to Tammany Hall and passing resolutions denouncing abolition.

Publisher Daniel Appleton established a bookstore in the Clinton Hotel side of the building.  It sold his own publications as well as books imported from England.   

James Gordon Bennett, the publisher of the New York Herald, rented offices in Clinton Hall as early as 1836.  That year the fiery publisher began a campaign "in favor of the great mass of the tenantry of New York, against the grasping landlords," in his words.  He was served an eviction notice in February 1837.

Bennett's editorial in the New York Herald on February 8 said that he had paid his quarterly rent in advance and that his eviction was "in consequence" of his campaign for renters.

I have every reason to believe that the Clinton Hall Association, a species of Real Estate Monopoly, composed as it is of speculators and fanatics, have determined to violate the implied engagements of their Agent with me, and to turn me out, as a punishment for my manifold transgressions towards the cause of the rich and powerful.

Upscale hotels were constant targets of burglars and the Clinton Hotel was no exception.  On November 23, 1843, the National Anti-Slavery Standard titled an article "Something New" and reported that two thieves, Richard Martin and George Fisher, had been arrested "for stealing wearing apparel from Clinton hotel."  They had an innovative burglary tool, "an instrument for turning a key outside, which has been turned by a person inside, and left in the door."

from the collection of the New York Public Library

By the mid-1840s, the Clinton Hotel was operated by Simon and Warren Leland.  (The brothers would later conceive of hotel chains.)  The problem of hotel thievery became personal to him in 1847.  On December 8 The Evening Post reported that William Seiler, an employee in the hotel, had been arrested for "stealing a frock coat from Warren Leland."  The young man had been hired four months earlier and during that time, "coats, &c. have been taken to the amount of $100."

In July 1848, The Institution for the Savings of Merchants' Clerks, a bank for young businessmen, opened on the ground floor.  The institution had been incorporated just three months earlier.  It would become the Union Square Savings Bank in 1905.

The Clinton Hotel hosted wealthy Americans and distinguished foreigners.  On June 21, 1851, for instance, The Evening Post reported that the entourage of "Count Villaneva, Intendent General of the Island of Cuba," were occupying rooms here.  Included were "Count Villanova, the Count's private Secretaries--Colonel Pinillas, General Carrillo--Colonel Pasejo and family, Post Captain Amero, Colonel Delango, and their servants."

At the time, the end of the line for the hotel and the Mercantile Library's occupancy in Clinton Hall was nearing.  On June 9, 1854, the New York Herald reported, "The Mercantile Library for several years past has been much cramped for room in its quarters in Beekman street, and after the urgent solicitations of its members, the Clinton Hall Association decided to purchase a more favorable site for the institution."  The association purchased the Astor Place Opera House on Astor Place.  The Mercantile Library Association's annual report in January 1855 said that the move from Clinton Hall was effected on June 8, 1854.

Two years later, in February 1856, a days-long auction of the furnishings of the Clinton Hotel began.  Hundreds of lots, including "a very large assortment of China and Glass Ware," mahogany dining tables and "several very large size Oil Paintings, very valuable," were sold.  The New York Times reported, "The Clinton Hotel property has been purchased by the Park Bank Company for $115,000."  The article said the bank would "fit up the old house temporarily."

The renovated Astor Place Opera House was renamed Clinton Hall.  Confusingly, the Beekman Street building retained the name, as well.  The downtown building was converted to offices, many of which were occupied by publishing firms.  Ironically, one of the new tenants was office of the Anti-Slavery Association.  

Other tenants in the 1860s were W. H. Bidwell, publisher of Bidwell's American Theological Review and W. H. Bidwell's Eclectic Magazine of Foreign Literature; the newspaper Independent, and Rev. John Marsh's Journal of the American Temperance Union.  One non-publishing tenant was financier and president of the Atlantic Telegraph Company, Cyrus Field, here as early as 1863. 

In 1881, banker Eugene Kelly purchased and demolished Clinton Hall.  On its site, he commissioned Silliman & Farnsworth to design a ten-story office building, the Temple Court Building.

King's Handbook of New York City, 1892 (copyright expired)

The New York County Courthouse - 60 Centre Street

 

photograph by wallyg

Twenty-two architects submitted designs for a new New York County Courthouse in 1913.  Guy Lowell, a Boston architect, won the competition with his "round building."  On April 19, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide remarked that the substantial commission came with side effects.  "Mr. Lowell will have about two thousand working and detail drawings to prepare, and it will be necessary for him to engage a larger force of draftsmen and larger quarters."  The article added that from his $200,000 fee, about $130,000 of that would be eaten up by "office expenses."

The journal explained that the winning design would now go to "the Court House Board and their architect, Walter Cook," for approval.  That process would initiate the first domino to fall in a long string of disappointments and delays.  On June 21, 1913, the Record & Guide reported, "The justices of the Supreme Court rejected on Tuesday...Mr. Guy Lowell's court house plan."

The borough president invited a committee of five architects to suggest "modifications" to Lowell's circular plan.  They handed Lowell a number of suggested sketches and he subsequently "prepared modified sketches."  Nearly a year later, on May 16, 1916, the Record & Guide reported on the "modified design for the courthouse," saying that the exterior of the building was "only slightly changed."

Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, May 16, 1914 (copyright expired)

Lowell's task was, by no means, finished.  On April 24, 1913, the Record & Guide reported that the courthouse site had been "amended."  The article noted, "Guy Lowell, the architect, is to have the revised plan of the building ready by May 1.  He has a large force of draftsmen at work."

The revised Courthouse site.  Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, April 24, 1915 (copyright expired)

But red tape, construction costs, and a world war continued to retard the process of erecting a county courthouse.  Then, on November 29, 1919, seven years after Guy Lowell's initial design was accepted, the Record & Guide wrote, "Final action has been taken, after years of effort, upon the plan for a new County court house in Manhattan.  Radical changes, however, will be made in the structure in size, layout, and in cost."

Lowell's original plans projected the cost at between $15,000,000 and $20,000,000 (about $372 million in 2026 terms).  The article said, "The new court house is expected to cost about $6,000,000 and its completion is looked for in about two years.  It will be hexagonal in shape."  Lowell's revised design was "on a less elaborate scale."

Lowell released the revised downscaled rendering in December 1919.  Record & Guide December 20, 1919 (copyright expired)

The new hexagonal design provided for 32 courtrooms for the Supreme Court and ten for the City Court.  "The new Court House will be built of the same excellent materials and will have the same carefully worked out conveniences as the building originally planned," explained the Record & Guide on December 20, 1919.  The article detailed:

The entire exterior, including the porch, will be of granite of a warm tone.  A fine porch or portico will occupy the westerly one of the six sides, giving character and dignity to the building...The other five sides, occupied by the courts, depend for their architectural effect on careful composition--produced by the skillful balancing of void and well space, so that there are no columns or architectural projections to shut off light from the court room windows.

Excavation for the foundation had started in 1918, a year before that article.  And yet Lowell would have to make one more significant change.  On September 4, 1920, he explained in a letter to Fiorello La Guardia, president of the Board of Aldermen, that the granite--a part of the plans since 1913--was now too expensive to use.  He said in part, "we cannot afford all the enhancement that we could allow ourselves some years ago."  Explaining that limestone would be "$600,000 less than the available granite bid," he suggested the former material.  He said, "You see that, though I would have liked granite, I have not allowed my personal preferences to supersede my real wish, which is to give the city the best we can for the money."

Construction was once again delayed by an obstacle that never should have happened.  On November 23, 1920 the Washington D.C. Evening Star reported that the cartage firm Holland & Co. "began dumping ashes in the New York county courthouse excavation in February 1918, and continued doing so until recently."  Now, said the article, the city would have to spend "nearly $400,000 for removal of these ashes so that construction can be begun."

The dignified building sat alone upon its completion in 1927.  photograph by Wurts. Bros from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

In February 1927, 14 years after Guy Lowell first sat before his drafting table and two weeks after his death, the New York County Court House was completed.  The Record & Guide said, "From the porch a collonaded [sic] lobby on the first or main floor leads to the central rotunda."  It and that lobby, said the article, "are paved with marble and have limestone columns and dado."  

The Supreme Court rooms were on the third and fourth floors.  The fifth and sixth floors were set back "leaving a space which can be used as a terrace."  Those levels held the upper part of the two-story library, the justices' reading room, dining room, justice's chambers and such.  "Each Justice's chambers consists of a small vestibule, a secretary's room, and the chamber proper," explained the Record & Guide.

The first floor plan.  The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide December 20, 1919 (copyright expired)

The costly structure came with a restriction taken for granted today, but highly unusual in 1920.  On March 17, The New York Times reported, "Warning cards against smoking, such as are posted in factories, on which the penalties for violations are printed, confronted attorneys and others having business in the new New York County courthouse yesterday."

An outgrowth of the Great Depression was the Works Progress Administration, which provided jobs to out-of-work Americans.  One segment found work for artists, who suddenly found themselves decorating the walls and ceilings of civic buildings throughout the country.  Included in the massive project were the decorations of the corridors, rotunda, courtrooms and assembly rooms of the New York County Courthouse.

On July 26, 1934, the Springfield Weekly Republic quoted critic Edward Alden Jewell, who panned Attillio Pusteria's new foyer murals in the New York County Courthouse as too traditional.  

The ceiling of the foyer, decorated by Attilio Pusteria.  photo by Peter Vanderwarker from the collection of the Historical Society of the New York Courts.

He said they were "precisely the decorations one would expect to find beyond the massive Corinthian columns of the portico" and complained that they represent the "inevitable allegories, such as Justice, Judgement, Mercy and Enforcement."  Jewell grumbled that American artists were being forced "to paint in the manner of Raphael."

The rotunda with its inlaid marble floors, limestone columns and 1934 dome decoration.  photo by Peter Vanderwarker from the collection of the Historical Society of the New York Courts.

Another group complained about the decoration.  But, unlike Jewell, they were not indignant about the artistic rendering, but about one particular image.  On December 19, 1936, The Detroit Tribune reported that "after a protest had been made by Harlem leaders," the Municipal Art Commission had agreed "that the WPA mural in the New York County Courthouse showing a colored man eating watermelon was 'frivolous,' and said the offending picture would be erased and something else substituted."

The New York County Courthouse became, of course, the scene of hearings and trials from the mundane to the most sensational.  In September 1938, Tammany District Leader James J. Hines, accused of "selling political protection to the underworld," was prosecuted by fledgling District Attorney Thomas E. Dewey.  Hines smugly walked out of the courthouse surrounded by a throng of reporters on September 12.  The Washington D.C. Evening Star explained that the judge "ordered a mistrial yesterday on the grounds that the youthful prosecutor by a verbal slip had 'fatally prejudiced' the jury against the white-haired political boss."

And on December 20, 1952, The New York Times began an article saying, "The man generally considered the most feared figure in the underworld was the principal witness at yesterday's hearing into waterfront conditions by the State Crime Commission.  He was Albert Anastasia, and his defiant appearance on the stand was the most dramatic incident of the hearings to date."

When the New York County Courthouse first opened, one of its elevator operators was Dominick Lupiano, a 48-year-old immigrant from Italy who had run an elevator in the old courthouse building for several years.  Decades later, the Washington D.C. Evening Star would say that he and his wife, Roselle, "scrimped" to put their son, Vincent, through law school.  On one occasion, State Supreme Court Justice Robert F. Wagner, Sr. mentioned to Lupiano, "One day, Dominick, you may be taking one of your own sons up to his own chambers.  In this country anything is possible, you know."

Lupiano retired after 40 years of service.  But the now-84-year-old came back on January 4, 1955.  That day Vincent A. Lupiano was sworn in as a justice of the State Supreme Court.  The Evening Star said:  "After the swearing-in ceremony, Dominick Lupiano donned his old elevator operator's uniform cap with a flourish.  Beaming, he escorted Justice Vincent Lupiano to the elevator and took him upstairs to his chambers."

Another set of high profile trials was held here in 1970.  Sixteen members of the Black Panthers were tried on "charges of conspiring to bomb Manhattan department stores, the Bronx Botanical Gardens, police stations, subway switching-rooms and railroad tracks," said The New York Times on February 1.  (The trials ended with mixed guilty pleas, murder convictions and dismissed charges.)

In March 1988, the restoration of the rotunda mural, Law Through the Ages, was initiated.  Somewhat surprisingly, The New York Times reported that the project "is being paid for by lawyers and judges in the building."

photograph by Beyond My Ken

Guy Lowell's dignified and stately Roman Classical style structure has not only been the venue of serious legal trials, but it has inspired producers throughout the decades.  The broad exterior staircase and monumental columns have appeared in countless movies and television shows.  And it remains a crucial element in the architectural personality of Foley Square.

The 1914 Municipal Building - 1 Centre Street

 

photograph by Momos

As early as 1884, the city's government had outgrown the 1812 City Hall building.  Plans for a Municipal Building that would "contain the different departments that are now housed in rented quarters," as described by the Real Estate Record & Guide in October 25, 1890, were varied.  The article said that the Municipal Building Commission had considered sites on St. Mark's Place and East 6th Street, but had decided on City Hall Park, which was already owned by the city.  The New York Times explained that several structures, including City Hall, the Post Office and the Court House, would have to be demolished.

A vote in the State Senate on February 25, 1890 challenged the idea.  The New York Times reported that legislators balked at the loss of a public park.  They further argued, "The City Hall is architecturally and historically too valuable, and the Court House and the Post Office are too substantial and costly to be removed."  (The sensitivity to City Hall's architectural importance, or even its recognition, was highly unusual for the time.)

A year later, however, the plan looked promising.  On March 28, 1891, The New York Times reported that Mayor Hugh J. Grant was pushing hard for the plan.  The article explained:

He was fully aware of the fact that there was opposition to the scheme of tearing down the old City Hall, but so far as he had been able to determine this was the expression only of sentimentalism which should not be allowed to stand in the way of the city's progress.

Ready to fight the mayor, said the article, was the Architectural League of America, which "would condemn the proposition to tear down the old City Hall."

City Hall seemed doomed following a two-hour meeting in the private office of the new mayor, Thomas Gilroy, on March 28, 1893.  The Municipal Building Commission and the Advisory Committee of Architects agreed with Gilroy and his predecessor.  A site map was released showing the proposed $4 million structure sitting directly on top of the City Hall site, its northern wings engulfing the Court House.

The New York Times, March 29, 1883 (copyright expired)

A contest for the design of the Municipal Building was opened shortly after, with the deadline for submission at noon on September 1, 1893.  The 130 architects had toiled in vain, as it turned out.  The battle to save City Hall was far from over.

Andrew Haswell Green was well known to New Yorkers.  He had been highly involved in the development of open spaces including Central Park, Riverside Drive, and Morningside Park.  He wrote a lengthy, pleading open letter to the Parks Commissioners in February 1894.  It said in part:

The City Hall presents an example of fine architectural taste.  In design and construction it is faultless as any structure in the city, while its historical and biographical relations involve events of paramount interest and personages of dignity and estimation, and, as has been well said, "It stands to-day unsurpassed by any structure of its kind in the country."  It should continue to stand, as for nearly a century it has stood, ample, commodious, and convenient.

It would be more than a decade before a committee agreed to  find an alternative site for the Municipal Building, and to preserve the Court House and City Hall, and renovate the park.  Finally, on May 9, 1908, the Record & Guide published a rendering of the new building, designed by William M. Kendall of McKim, Mead & White.  The site, facing City Hall Park on the east side of Centre Street, had proved a challenge for him.

The article said, "The peculiar shape of the lot...at the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge, made the architectural problem, as well as the problem of light and air an unusual one."  Also challenging was "the problem of construction over the subway without interfering with the passage of trains."  Kendall had chosen "the classic style" for the building, said the article, "following the accepted traditions of buildings of a civic character throughout the country from the earliest times down."

McKim, Mead & White released the above rendering on May 8, 1908.  Real Estate Record & Guide (copyright expired)

As construction progressed, on June 27, 1909 The New York Times began an article saying, "New Yorkers thrive on superlatives."  It reminded readers of the Municipal Building's unique elements: "a subway running through its basement, an elevated railroad on its second floor, with streets on every side of it, and one passing directly through it."  

On December 27, 1909, Mayor George B. McClellan, Jr. and Bridge Commissioner James W. Stevenson oversaw the laying of the four-ton, Maine granite cornerstone "of what is to be the largest, most elaborate, and most ornate municipal building of any city in the world," according to The New York Times.  The article said construction would be completed by January 1912 at a cost of "about $14,000,000."  (That figure would translate to nearly $500 million in 2026).

 Real Estate Record & Guide (copyright expired)

The article went on to describe Kendall's design, saying it would rise 25 floors to an eight-story tower.  "The general style is to be French Renaissance...The ornamental front of the building on Centre Street, with a long row of fifty-foot pillars, will be broken in the centre by an arched arcade through which Chambers Street will be run through the building."  Kendall strayed from the French Renaissance with that arcade, which was inspired by the ancient Arch of Constantine in Rome.

photograph by Jgrenaldy

Constructing a massive building adjacent to the subway was not only challenging, but dangerous.  On June 4, 1910, The New York Times reported that the east side of the excavation for the Municipal Building's foundation collapsed.  "A mountain of sand behind the shoring suddenly shifted and buried three workmen," said the article.  "Some of the timbers knocked over two others."  One of those workers, James McClellan, was buried to the neck and pinned by timbers.  The article explained, "further movements of the sand threatened to bury him completely."  Two priests, Father John Curry and Father Luke J. Evers, were lowered into the pit where they gave the last sacraments to McClellan.  Three hours later, fortunately, he was extricated and removed to a hospital.

Three months later, on September 3, a second cave in took place, this time on the western side.  It undid significant work.  The New York Times reported, "The sewer and water pipes along the line of the cave-in were torn away."  Happily, this time no workers were injured.

Within months after that setback, the building began taking shape.  On April 23, 1911, McKim, Mead & White announced that the tower of the structure was "designed in the modern classic style, and will be built of Maine granite of a light tone."  Not yet decided, according to The New York Times, was "a figure to top the tower."  The firm said "a number of figures are being considered."

Disaster struck again on June 28, 1911.  The New York Times reported, "The highest blaze ever fought by the Fire Department...was discovered early last evening on the twenty-fifth floor of the new Municipal Building, now in course of construction."  The stand pipes did not yet extend above the 21st floor.  The article said, "The firemen tried to extinguish the fire by throwing on sand, but the blaze was beyond their control."  The fire fighters were also endangered by the fact that the floors at that level were not yet floored over.  They "were compelled to walk in line and carry a lighted lantern," said the article.  Hoses were hauled up from the 21st floor stand pipe and eventually the fire was extinguished.

The next week, on July 3, the building was topped off.  "Just before stopping work last night," reported The Times, "several hundred iron workers on the new Municipal Building...unfurled a large American flag to show they had reached the highest point of the structure."

On May 8, 1913, Adolph A. Weinman's gilded statue, Civic Fame, was installed atop the tower.  Although the building was still under construction, the first tenants moved in seven months later.  

Not everyone was happy with Kendall's results.   On January 22, 1914, Mayor John Purroy Mitchel told a meeting of the Sinking Fund Commissioners, "The building was planned badly in its original conception and is largely a waste of space as now constructed."  The board's commissioner noted, "this undoubtedly can be attributed to the fact that the site was a bad one in the beginning."  The president of the Board of Aldermen added his thought.  "We have the building and we must make the best of it."

On January 22, 1914, the New-York Tribune wrote, "If the protests of city department heads are to be believed, the fine white Municipal Building is a fine white elephant; cost to date, some $15,000,000; and value for the original purpose, doubtful."  The article admitted, "The Municipal Building is good to look at."  But it added, should it not adequately fulfill the needs of the city departments, "Miss New York on the top of the tower may have cause to hide her face in her robes for shame at the waste."

A vintage postcard shows the Municipal Building as the highest structure in the district. (copyright expired)

Borough President Marcus M. Marks came to Kendall's and the building's defense.  The Evening World reported on February 23, 1924, "He pointed to the wonderful capacity of the building with its fourteen acres of net floor space, its thousand offices, supplying 5,000 employees with plenty of natural light, and figures that office space in the new structure will cost the city...$1.33 per square foot, as against an average price of $1.76 per square foot paid during the past two years for rented space."

original photograph from the author's collection

Another complaint was almost unbelievable.  On June 21, 1914, the New York Herald reported, "Don't believe anybody who tells you that it's an optical illusion which makes you think that Miss Civic Virtue, or whatever the official name of the bronze lady on the top of the Municipal Building tower is, has hiked her gilt skirts up hysterically during the past few days and is trying to stand even higher on her pedestal than heretofore."  

As construction began, two cats "fell into the excavation," said the New York Herald.  And then, "nature took its course."  By the time the building opened, "the cats in the building grew so numerous that something had to be done."  The newspaper said that the city had eliminated to date 63 feral felines.  The problem now, said the article, "mice frolic gayly" within the building.

photograph by Ken Lund

Despite the early denunciation of the structure, the Municipal Building (renamed the David N. Dinkins Manhattan Municipal Building on October 15, 2015) has become an architectural landmark of the lower Manhattan skyscape.  William M. Kendall's ability to conform his design to the awkward footprint, his striking entrance arcade, and the structure's soaring presence topped with Civic Fame is integral to the City Hall and Foley Square architectural neighborhood.

The Lost North Dutch Church - William and Fulton Streets

Edward Lamson Henry painted this depiction in 1869, probably for the church's centennial.  from the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art

The homestead of John Harpendingh (originally spelled Herbendinck) sat at the corner of Maiden Lane and Broadway.  Harpendingh was "a worthy tanner," as described by The New York Times a century later.  He is remembered today in John Street, originally a lane that ran through his property.  By 1767, his farm had been invaded by streets and buildings.

At the time, the North Dutch Church worshiped in a stone building on Nassau Street.  In 1767, the Consistory of the Reformed Dutch Church resolved that a new edifice "should be erected on the grounds of Mr. John Harpendingh [and] that it should front Horse and Cart lane, and be placed in the middle of the lot."  (Horse and Cart Lane derived its name from a tavern on that street.)  Harpendingh had donated a parcel on his property for the project, and on July 2, 1767 the cornerstone was laid by James Roosevelt.

According to a metal plate discovered under an interior pillar later, construction was executed by "Andrew Breested, Jr. carpenter and protector" and "John Stagg, master mason, and Alex Bates."  The men drew inspiration from Georgian-style churches in London, specifically those designed by James Gibbs.  The openings of the fieldstone walls were framed by quoins--known as Gibbs surrounds.  The four-tiered steeple included a square pedestal, a four-sided clock tower, an octagonal belfry, and a lantern from which a copper weather vane in the form of a cock sprouted.  

from the collection of the New York Public Library

The building would sit at the northwest corner of Horse and Cart Lane (later William Street) and Fair Street (later Fulton Street).  The churchyard at the northern side of the church abutted Ann Street.  Construction was completed in March 1769 at a cost of £12,000.  (The amount would translate to nearly $4 million in 2026.)  The first service was held on May 25.  A century later, The New York Times remarked, "The building was looked upon in those days as one of singular beauty and grandeur, and was pointed at with pleasure and pride as one of the wonders of Manhattan Island."

Inside were ten fluted columns, each contributed by a wealthy congregant.  Architect Samuel A. Warner described them in 1852 as being "all finely carved and finished, and on their friezes rendered conspicuous by gilding the initials of the generous contributors."  The mahogany pulpit was "a wonderful piece of Dutch carving imported from the Netherlands," recalled The New York Times in 1872.  Above the pulpit was the coat of arms of the Harpendingh family.  The ceiling was barrel-vaulted, and the pews, with their paneled doors, were "finished with mahogany railings and scrolls," according to Warner.

When the British Army occupied Manhattan during the Revolutionary War, churches were sorely abused.  The North Dutch Church was converted to a prison, holding around 1,000 captives.  The New York Times recounted in 1872: 

When the English arrived the piers were torn down, the pulpit was sent to London as a free-will offering, and a floor was laid from gallery to gallery, forming an upper story.  The wood of the piers was sold at public auction for fuel.

The British evacuated Manhattan in November 1783.   The New York Times said, "When the English retired, the congregation purified their church, restored the piers, tore away the boarding of the upper floor, and recommenced the services of the Lord."  The New York Herald recorded, "in September, 1784, the church having been restored by public subscription, was formally reopened by a sermon from the Rev. Dr. [John H.] Livingston." 

from the collection of the New York Public Library

By mid-century, the former semi-rural neighborhood was a bustling commercial district.  In 1852, a Day Prayer Meeting was initiated, held every Wednesday at noon.  A pamphlet titled "The Noon Prayer Meeting of the North Church" explained, "This meeting is intended to give merchants, mechanics, clerks, strangers and business men generally, an opportunity to stop and call upon God amid the daily perplexities incident to their respective avocations."

Midcentury tastes in decor had greatly strayed from the North Dutch Church's simple 18th century design.  While congregants were at their country homes in the summer of 1856, the interior of the church was renovated.  On August 31, The New-York Dispatch reported, "The venerable edifice on the corner of Fulton and William streets, known as the North Dutch Church, has recently been thoroughly overhauled, repaired and painted, and will be thrown open as a free church this day."  Noting that it was "one of the oldest of our church edifices," the article noted, "although, about ninety years old, [it] exhibits no signs of decay, and is at present one of the strongest buildings of its kind in the city."

The first threat to the North Dutch Church came in 1866.  On January 21, The New York Times reported, "the Consistory of the Collegiate Reformed Dutch Church of this city have decided to pull down the church building at the corner of Fulton and William streets, and lease the ground for business purposes."  The backlash was immediate.  The following day, a letter from the congregants to the Consistory was reproduced in the newspaper.  It said in part,

We, the undersigned, lay members of the North Dutch Church, having been for some time past silent, but by no means disinterested spectators of the course pursued by your body, with regard to that church, feel that a crisis has now arrived, in which to be longer silent would subject us to the charge, if not openly by others, at least by our own consciences, of a criminal remissness and neglect of duty.

The long letter did not hold back in its condemnation of the Consistory.  And the groundswell worked.  The organization tabled its plans to lease the ground and demolish the structure.

Early on the morning of October 27, 1869, a fire broke out in a commercial building at 116 Fulton Street.  A strong breeze quickly spread the blaze to neighboring structures.  The New York Herald reported, "the volume of sparks emitted from the burning pile set fire to the steeple of the North Dutch church."  With Victorian prose, the article said, "soon the whole tower, with flames of fire, wild and terrible, a fearful but brilliant sight, fell to the ground."  

Harper's Weekly, November 13, 1869 (copyright expired)

If there were a positive note in the catastrophe, it was that the flaming steeple crashed away from the building rather than collapsing onto it.  The New York Herald said it fell to the side, "breaking and bending the iron railings and gateway surrounding the church."  The damage caused by "the demon of fire" was estimated at $2,000, or about $47,500 today.

The destruction of the tower may have supplied the Consistory the excuse it needed.  On February 26, 1872, The New York Times reported, "The old North Dutch Church...will shortly be among the things of the past.  A twenty years' lease of the ground on which it stands will be sold at auction to-morrow."  The journalist opined, "the removal of the old church would be a cause of deep regret to very many people."  But the Consistory was foiled in its plan.  It had placed a reserve of $16,000 on the annual rental and there were no bidders.  Nevertheless, the organization was resolute.  The New York Times said, "The Consistory will hope to dispose of the lease by private treaty."

Finally, it got its way.  In June 1875, the Consistory leased "a spacious and commodious apartment," as described by a representative, in an adjoining commercial building "where public worship is maintained."  The organization had sold the land lease and the demolition of the venerable church was announced.

As the landmark was razed, some architectural elements were salvaged.  On June 22, 1875, for instance, The New York Times remarked on items purchased by Rutgers College.  "Considerable excitement is anticipated over the arrival of some objects of historic interest from the old North Dutch Church of New-York."  Among them was the weather vane.  "The ancient cock which so long acted as weather-vane for the old church has been regilded and is to be mounted upon the cupola of the college," said the article.

image via showcase.com

The replacement building was demolished in 1939 for the Art Moderne-style, seven-story 111 Fulton Street, designed by Cross & Cross.  In 2007 additional stories were added in a conversion to residential use by architect Karl Fisher.

The Lost Howard's Hotel - 176 Broadway

 

Print around 1845 by Charles Parsons, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

In 1839, a year after John Jacob Astor I opened his luxurious Astor House hotel, brothers Daniel D. Howard and John P. Howard broke ground for another upscale hotel, just three blocks to the south at Broadway and Maiden Lane.  Detractors quickly anticipated doom.  The New-York Tribune noted six years later:

When that spacious hotel was in progress of erection, a general doubt was expressed of its being adequately supported, as no hotel on that side of Broadway had ever succeeded.  And the immense outlay to build up the establishment, (it costing, we believe, more than a quarter of a million of dollars), also had its weight in casting doubt of its success.

Now, on October 1, 1844, the editors of the New-York Tribune smugly reported, "But knowing the men, their origin, education, &c., we never doubted."

Known as Howard's Hotel (it would be more commonly referred to as Howard Hotel), it opened in March 1840.  The construction costs (exclusive of the furnishings, carpeting, and such) reported by the New-York Tribune would translate to a staggering $8.7 million in 2025.  The Howards' architect drew greatly from the Greek Revival designs of the commercial buildings in the district, with heavy granite piers along the ground floor.  The upper stories were faced in red brick.  The squat sixth (or attic) floor, typical of the Greek Revival style, would have been reserved for servants.

Among the first guests was the Reverend Dr. Henry Scadding of Canada.  He wrote in his diary on May 28, 1840, "The city very imposing.  Broadway thronged and full of omnibuses.  One might easily fancy himself in the heart of London.  Walked to the Post Office.  Put up at Howard's Hotel, Broadway--a clean, new, elegant house."

Reminisces of a Hotel Man, 1912 (copyright expired)

The Evening Post agreed with Rev. Scadding's appraisal.  On July 15, 1840, it described Howard's Hotel as being, "amply provided with every means for accommodating a large number of guests.  The house is well arranged, well furnished, and well kept--the proprietor having had long experience in the business, with a strong disposition to contribute to the comfort of all who have put themselves under his care."

In his 1912 Reminiscences of a Hotel Man, Henry S. Mower wrote, "The hotel was a success from the start and divided the honors with The Astor."

Like all hotels, Howard's included commercial spaces for the convenience of both the guests and the public.  On August 5, 1840, William M. Decamp announced that he had opened his men's hat store.  Speaking of himself in the third person, Decamp boasted, "Gentlemen can be furnished with a most splendid article of either Beaver, Silk, Moleskin, or Leghorn...he hesitates not to compare with any to be had in the city.  Also on hand, fine Panama Hats."  Nine months later, on June 22, 1841, George Welsell announced his "new and splendid hair dressing saloon."  His "American, English and French assistants" were on hand to "make it a superior resort for gentlemen of all nations, as well as citizens, who may require their hair cut or dressed."

The Howard's Hotel vied with the Astor House for esteemed guests.  On March 18, 1841, for instance, The Evening Post reported, "John J. Crittenden, Attorney General of the United States, has arrived in this city, and stops at the Howard Hotel."

Crittenden would be among the last of the eminent guests under the Howard brothers' care.  On October 1, 1841, the New York Express reported, "This house, it is said, will change hands after the 1st of January next, Messrs. D. & J. Howard having disposed of their interest in the establishment and all the furniture to Capt. Stephen Roe, of the steamboat Empire, and Mr. Thomas, formerly of the firm of Thomas & Marvin, United States Hotel, Saratoga."  The article said, "The price we have heard named is somewhere in the neighborhood of $50,600." 

As a term of the sale, the Howards were not allowed to open a new hotel in New York City for three years.  The editors of the New-York Tribune "were surprised" to hear of the news, saying, "They have been most popular and successful hosts, and will carry into their retirement the respect and good wishes of thousands."

Thomas and Roe hosted U.S. President John Tyler in June 1843.  On June 15, the Troy Daily Whig reported, "A crowd of people assembled this morning in front of Howard's Hotel to get sight of the President and his Cabinet on their route to the ships of war in the harbor."  

The President's visit a year later would be cloaked in secrecy.  John Tyler had been widowed for two years and he and his staff had taken every precaution to keep this visit confidential.  The hotel staff had been ordered not to talk and "all the servants locked up" to keep them quiet.  On the morning of June 26, 1844, Tyler left the hotel for his wedding to Julia Gardiner in the Church of the Ascension on Fifth Avenue.   

The secrecy had nothing to do with security.  The fact that Julia was 30 years younger than the 54-year-old President had already caused a minor scandal in Washington social circles.

Although they had purchased the furnishings, Thomas and Roe redecorated, advertising in March 4, 1845, "It has been put in the most thorough and complete repair, painted and refitted."  The 1846 Great Metropolis said the furniture cost $35,000 (about $1.48 million today) and described Howard's Hotel as having 140 rooms with a dining room "35 by 65 feet."  

Henry S. Mower was hired "to have charge of the office" here in June 1857.  He recalled in 1912:

No doubt the table in its abundant and perfect school of cooking, the best material the country offered, was a kindly solace to its patrons, and in the long after years when its doors were closed, in meeting anyone of them the same exclamation followed, "we have never found such a home as the old Howard.

No doubt, the co-ownership of the steamboat captain Stephen Roe influenced many naval and private sailing figures to stay here.  On December 10, 1860, for instance, The New York Times reported, "Capt. Lewis Parish and lady, and Purser J. N. Smith, of the steamship Yorktown, also Purser J. H. Woodcock, of the steamship Jamestown, are at the Howard Hotel."  And 12 days later, the newspaper reported, "Capt. E. A. Hussy, of the ship Escort, and C. W. Abbott, of the United States Navy, are at the Howard Hotel."

Henry S. Mower recalled, "At the breaking out of the Civil War in 1861, all the hotels experienced a change in the character of their business."  Several Union officers stayed at Howard's Hotel as they passed through the city.  On July 25, 1862, for instance, The New York Times reported, "Brig. Gen. D. E. Sickles arrived in town last evening from the seat of war.  The General was met at the ferry by a few friends.  He is stopping at the Howard Hotel."

Because of the war, said Mower, the price rose from $2 to $3 per day.  He added, "All provisions rose rapidly in price, as well as the wages of hotel employes [sic], colored waiters that had been receiving $12 per month now got $20, and later $25."

Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, December 17, 1864 (copyright expired)

Among those Black employees was waiter Charles Jackson.  On July 12, 1863, he left the hotel heading to Pier No. 3 on the Hudson River.  It was a dangerous time for Black citizens to be on the streets.  The previous day, the nation's first attempt at a military draft was held as a lottery.  But the wealthy had purchased exemptions to circumvent the draft.  The result was the Draft Riots—a three-day reign of terror and carnage unlike anything seen in the country before.  Innocent people--mostly Black--were murdered.  Draft offices, newspaper buildings, and the homes of Blacks were burned. 

The New York Times reported that Jackson "was attacked in one of the streets leading from Broadway to the North River [i.e., the Hudson], by a crowd of roughs."  Jackson was "knocked senseless by some one, he knew not whom, and he recollected nothing further until he found himself crawling out of the water under Pier No. 4."  Jackson, although injured, was fortunate.  After being beaten and robbed, he had been thrown off the pier "where he was supposed to be drowned," said the newspaper.

On November 22, 1864, S. M. Harner checked into Howard's Hotel.  He was given a room on the fourth floor.  Three days later, at 3:30 a.m., according to The New York Times, "the night watchman discovered that an attempt had been made to set fire to the room occupied by Harner.  The bed-clothing had been saturated with inflammable material, phosphorus had been used, and the furniture was all piled upon the bed."  The ruse had been foiled here, but that was not the case in some hotels throughout the city.  

Harner was a member of the Confederate Army of Manhattan, a group of eight Southerners intent to burn New York City.  They started fires in 19 hotels, a theater and P. T. Barnum's American Museum.  Happily, most of the fires were quickly extinguished by hotel employees and guests, or, like the Howard's Hotel attempt, failed.

By the end of the war, Howard's Hotel was being replaced with more modern and fashionable hotels further uptown.  A two-day auction, on April 24 and 25, 1868, liquidated everything from the "furniture, wines, liquors," to the "steam boiler and pipes."  Among the items listed by auctioneer Henry H. Leeds were "Brussels and Axminister carpets" and "pier and mantel French plate mirrors."

The hotel was converted to an office building, home mostly to real estate agents like W. A. Corbiere & Co., J. A. Kenyon & Son, and E. A. Cruikshank & Co.  The building survived until 1898. It was replaced by the Howells & Stokes-designed Title Guarantee & Trust Building at 176 and 178, and the ten-story Cushman Building next door at 174 Broadway.

The Cushman Building sits to the right of the Title Guarantee & Trust Building.  image by Irving Underhill from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.