The 1891 Garfield Flats - 104 Forsyth Street

A coat of chocolate-colored paint covered the checkerboard terra cotta tiles and polished stone columns of the first floor.

A North Carolinian, Lt. Colonel Benjamin Forsyth was based in New York State during the War of 1812.  He was killed in action in June 1814 and became a hero in both his native state and in New York.  North Carolina named Forsyth County after him and in 1817 New York City changed the name of East 2nd Street to Forsyth Street.

At the time, the block of Forsyth Street between Broome and Grand Streets was lined with prim brick-faced Federal style homes.  No. 104 was a 25-foot-wide, two-and-a-half story home with a wooden dwelling behind.  (In the rear yards of nearly each house on the block was be a small building--either a second house, a stable or a shop.)

The quiet residential block began to change in the years before the Civil War as thousands of immigrants poured into the Lower East Side.  Between 1859 and 1880, the number of Jews who settled in New York City had doubled--from 40,000 to 80,000.  Forsyth Street saw the construction of several synagogues, and private houses were demolished to be replaced by tenements or were converted to shops.

Albert Stake purchased the property in January 1890.  While he lived on Staten Island, he made his livelihood in Manhattan, buying and selling real estate as well as insurance.

Stake wasted no time in setting his plans for the Forsyth Street property in motion.  Twelve days after the purchase architect Alexandre I. Finkle filed plans for a five-story "brick and stone flat" to cost $17,000, or about $475,000 today.  (Finkle did not have to spend time designing the building, instead recycling the plan of the Lincoln, a tenement he designed a year earlier at 84 Madison Street.)

Mostly forgotten today, Finkle was busy in the 1880's and '90's designing tenement buildings.  Aimed at low income families, the buildings offered little in amenities.  But Finkle often lavished on the outside with overblown ornamentation.  His design for 104 Forsyth Street included a heavy splash of patriotism and sentiment.

Nearly a decade had elapsed since the assassination of President James A. Garfield, but public emotions were still strong.  Stake dubbed his building the Garfield and Finkle announced its name in a flowing banner in the pressed metal cornice, along with a patriotic shield.

A centered stone stoop let to the entrance under a portico upheld by polished stone columns.  A quilt of Queen Anne-style terra cotta tiles graced the upper portion of the first floor facade.  Finkle did not hold back on the succeeding levels.  A burst of colors and materials graced the second floor--brownstone, limestone, terra cotta, and brick.  Winged faces upheld floating pairs of Corinthian pilasters, the pressed metal tympana above the windows were decorated with delicate vines, and the spandrels were filled with multicolored tiles.  Carved Renaissance Revival panels formed the bases of the three-story piers above, which terminated in terra cotta Corinthian capitals.

Albert Stark was an operator, not a landlord, and as soon as the building was completed he sold it, in February 1891, to Frederick J. Seelig for $45,500--a hefty $1.25 million today.

The basement level contained two stores, one on either side of the stoop, with living space behind.  H. S. Eisler opened his "household furniture" store in 1891; and Victor Cohen moved his family and shoe shop into the other.

Colorful tiles and carved angel heads on the outside could not change the fact that life on the inside of tenements was often miserable.  Apartments were either drafty and cold in the winter or stiflingly hot in the summer.  There was no hot water (if there was running water at all), and sanitary conditions were poor.  And landlords were notoriously cold-hearted.

Among the initial tenants were Charles Borach and his wife, the former Rose Stern.  Saloon owners, they had two children, Phillip and Carrie, and Rose was pregnant when they moved in.  Fania was born on October 29 that year.  She would go on to be known to American audiences as comedian, actress and singer Fanny Brice.

The Garfield's landlady in 1895 was Sarah Davis.  She grew impatient when Victor Cohen fell behind on his rent.  Cohen and his wife had five children, the youngest just a year-and-a-half old.  After running his shoe store here for nearly four years, business had dropped off.  Sarah David ordered the family out.

She hung a "To Let" sign on the storefront and rented the space to another tenant.  Cohen was told he had to be out by February 1.  But his youngest child was seriously ill and a doctor warned against moving him.  When the family was still there on the first of February, Sarah was enraged.

What happened next prompted The Evening World to run the headline, "DYING CHILD EVICTED / Sad Case of Victor Cohen, a Poor Cobbler."  The article explained that Sarah Davis got a dispossession notice from the court giving the Cohens five days to move out.  Fearful of moving the boy and with nowhere to go, they stayed.  Sarah took her next move.

"The next day Marshal Hirschfield evicted him, although Dr. Shenkman said it would be dangerous to take the child out of doors," reported the article.  Neighbors took the family in until Cohen was able to find rooms nearby on Hester Street.

In 1899, Bennett & G signed a lease for one of the stores.  The firm ran a string of soda fountains around the city.  The Bennett & G soda fountain would remain for several years.

In the meantime, things had not improved for tenants who were paying about $13 a month rent (around $390 in today's dollars) for three rooms.  On May 4, 1900, the Tenement House Commission made an "inspection tour" of Lower East Side buildings.  The inspectors found that there were no hallway lights in 104 Forsyth Street, in violation of city law.  "Tenants have to grope along it and stumble as best they may up the staircase," reported The New York Times.

Among those who groped along the hallways was John Sullivan.  While others in the building made their living as blue collar laborers and such, Sullivan preferred an easier method--robbery.  Around 1:00 in the morning on November 13, 1901 he and two cronies, John Shea and Frank Lynch, saw a lone sailor at the corner of New Chambers and Oak Streets.  They attacked, knocking him to the ground.  While two held him down the other went through his pockets and took all the money he had--25 cents.  The New-York Tribune reported, "They then gave him several kicks and went on their way."

The sailor, Swan C. Carlsen, did not call for a policeman (despite being only steps from the 5th Precinct Station House).  Instead, he following the Irish toughs from a safe distance.  Just as they reached Catherine and Cherry Streets, Henry Moore walked out of Andy Horn's saloon.  He became their second victim.

"They knocked him down and were going through his pockets when his yells reached the ears of Detective Hahn and Patrolman Frank Sheridan," who were around the corner.  The officers ran to the scene where "a desperate struggle ensued."  The Tribune happily reported, "The highwaymen were subdued."  Swan Carlsen went to the station house both as a complainant and a victim.  John Sullivan and his cohorts were charged with highway robbery.

G. Sucher moved his barber shop into one of the basement stores in 1903 and, like the soda fountain, would remain for years.

The dismal conditions upstairs continued.  In 1907, the owner was ordered to correct conditions which made the building a "public nuisance."  The catch-all phrase often referred to foul odors, garbage, rats and vermin, or other conditions that made the property a problem to the neighborhood.

Directly behind the Garfield was the Eldridge Street Police Station.  On the afternoon of Friday, March 12, 1910, officers were playing handball in the yard of the station house when a fire in Minnie Brennsilber's kitchen on the second floor erupted.  The men looked up to see flames licking out of the apartment window and jumped the fence.

Patrolman Martin Owen was the first to enter the burning building.  The New York Times reported, "Owen rushed to the second-floor hall, and, bursting into the apartment of Mrs. Minnie Brennsilber, found her and her two young children cowed with fright."  The way down was blocked by flames, so Owen headed up.  He grabbed the youngsters and directed their mother to follow to the roof.  There he took them to the roof of the building next door.

In the meantime, Officer August Schimp had brought 60-year-old Rose Flitzer to the roof.  The two policemen went back into No. 104.   On the third floor, the heat burst a window and the resulting back draft overtook the men.  With their uniform coats ablaze they managed to scramble back to the roof where they fell unconscious.  They were found by other policemen who carried them to the street.

At the same time, a firefighter from Truck 6 was "found staggering through a lower hallway, almost overcome by smoke, but was revived by an ambulance surgeon," according to the newspaper.  Another responder, policeman John Stanford, dodged serious injury when a blazing mattress thrown from an upper window landed on him.  Another policeman managed to push the mattress aside before it could burn Stanford.

Both Officer Schimp and Owen were honored for their bravery the following year by the mayor and police commissioner.

Close inspection reveals the once colorful tiles, now significantly damaged, and the quirky winged faces.

Hyman Grossman moved his grocery store into the basement of the repaired building.  He found himself in trouble in November 1911 when health food inspectors fined him $100 for violating the pure food laws.  The New York Times reported the fine was "for having bad milk."

World War I had a personal effect on at least one family in the Garfield.  Six residents of Forsyth Street were drafted on the same day in March 1918, including Samuel Wasserman who lived here.  The men were ordered to leave "for Camp" on April 3.

One tenant of the Garfield was not enthusiastic about his military service.  On June 9, 1921 the War Department published its list of "draft deserters."  Included was Leib Merkin of 104 Forsyth Street.

A grisly discovery was found in front of the Garfield on July 28, 1956.  Police had been looking for Frances DiZinno's 1955 Buick sedan since it was reported stolen the night before.  At around 8:30 Detectives Edgar Brennan and Joseph Byrnes spotted the car parked in front of No. 104.

"When the detectives opened the door of the car they were assailed by an unpleasant odor," reported The New York Times.  "On the floor of the rear seat was an unwieldy tarpaulin bundle tied with heavy cord in a way that indicated to them that it contained a human body.  When they opened the trunk compartment they found an even larger bundle, wedged against the spare tire."

Before long the street was filled with Homicide Squad detectives, the Police Department mobile laboratory truck, and officials from the Medical Examiner's office.  "Meanwhile crowds of excited residents of the densely populated area made Forsyth Street impassable," said the article.

The bodies were identified by fingerprints as two of the three men wanted by the FBI for jumping bail in a fur hijacking case.   James Joseph Roberto was a former prizefighter known as Jimmy Russo, and the other was Richard Michael Langone.  Both had been killed by ax blows to the head and had been dead for as long as three days.

As the search intensified for the third defendant, Louis Joseph Musto, a shocking twist in the case came to the surface.   James T. Ryan had joined the New York Police Department on February 1, 1947 and was promoted to detective in January 1949.  Then, in November 1955, he was demoted to patrolman "for the good of the service."  Now, three days after the bodies were discovered, he was pulled off his post and arrested for receiving stolen property in connection with the fur heists.

By the last quarter of the 20th century the Forsyth Street neighborhood, once filled with German Jews, then Italians, was increasingly becoming engulfed by New York's Chinatown. 

Nevertheless, Seymour Anczelowitz operated his store, Sy's New and Used Clothing, at No. 104 here as late as 1982.  Just before 1:00 on the afternoon of January 31, that year a man and a woman came into the store and told the 47-year-old he was being held up.  Whether Anczelowitz fought back or not is unclear, but the crooks shot him in the head.  They escaped with as much as $2,000 in cash.  Anczelowitz was taken to Bellevue Hospital in critical condition, where he later died.

Despite its often dark history, the suffering of its early tenants, and the unfortunate coat of brown paint on the stone and tile of the first floor, Alexandre I. Finkle's patriotic and exuberant Garfield is still an attention grabber.

photographs by the author

Constant Change: Tenement to Synagogue to Art Studio -- No. 80 Forsyth Street

By the Civil War years, thousands of immigrants were pouring into the Lower East Side.  The three-story brick house at No. 80 Forsyth Street and the little two-story dwelling in its rear yard were home to a few of them.  The family of one tenant in the back building, however, had been in New York at least for one or two generations.  In her advertisement for work in The New York Herald on October 3, 1865, she clearly differentiated herself from her neighbors.

HOUSEKEEPER'S SITUATION WANTED--By An American widow woman.  Call at 80 Forsyth street, in rear, first stoop.

By 1874 the property was owned by the Schwartz family.  That summer C. Schwartz hired builder A. Shappel to convert the front house to accommodate a store for Anthony Schwartz.  The alterations cost $200.   Schwartz described his shop as selling "furniture, &c."  And he proudly listed "two pianos" among the inventory the following year--surprisingly upscale items in the impoverished neighborhood.

At the time the immigrant population in the neighborhood was changing.  Between 1859 and 1880 the number of Jews who settled in New York City had doubled--from 40,000 to 80,000.  Before the turn of the century, Forsyth Street--only about eight blocks long--would see the arrival of several synagogues.

On March 28, 1881 the Congregation Kol Israel Anshe Poland (Community of Israel, People of Poland) purchased No. 80 Forsyth Street for $12,000, about $287,000 today.  The small congregation took out a mortgage for 50 percent of the cost.

Their renovations made the old brick structure nearly unrecognizable, other than the Italianate pressed metal cornice.  Two story Gothic-arched windows at the upper floors were separated by round openings--all of them filled with stained glass originally, no doubt.  They were united by a single, slightly protruding brick eyebrow.  Wrought iron fire escapes incorporated stars of David into the design.

Close inspection reveals the Stars of David within the wrought iron fire escape designs.

The conversion, completed by summer of 1882, included a mikveh, or ritual baths, on the ground floor where Anthony Schwartz had exhibited his two pianos.  Congregation Kol Israel Anshe Poland did not intend to operate the baths, however; and in August signed a 10-year lease with Solomon B. Oschinsky, charging him $400 per year.  What must have seemed to be a savings of time, expense and trouble would cost the synagogue in the end.

The City taxed the congregation $670.30 on the property every year from 1881.  So Congregation Kol Israel sued in 1885, "asserting that as the property was used for religious purposes, it ought not to be taxed," said The New York Times.

Prior to the trial, which was not held until May 2, 1888, the City did some investigating.  While "the congregation said that the baths were a feature of its religious ceremonies and that the expense of sustaining them was defrayed by the members of the congregation," officials found that Solomon Oschinsky was operating it as a business.

"But the city proved that the baths were used, not only by the members of the congregation but by all Hebrews who wished to use them," reported The Times.  Upon that evidence, Judge Lawrence decided that the synagogue was liable for the taxes.

All the while the synagogue was the scene of weddings, funerals and services.  Later that year, for example, on October 18 the "happy synagogue wedding," as described by The Evening World, of Rachel Rosenthal to J. Doniger was celebrated here.

The somewhat lavish event was in stark contrast to the often-gritty surroundings.  The newspaper noted "The bride wore a dress of white satin, with trimmings and draperies of cream plush and white lace.  A long bridal veil was fastened in her hair by a wreath of orange blossoms.  Her ornaments were diamonds and pearls."  After the ceremony the guests "were received in Everett Hall, where they sat down to a bountiful supper, after which they danced for several hours to the music of Wollenberg's orchestra."

Among the first congregants in the synagogue were Samuel A. Samuels and his wife.  In 1882 he purchased two pew seats, both given the number 10.  A clause in the pew deed clearly noted that should the congregation ever relocate, "the said Samuel A. Samuels shall be entitled to the same seat in such other Synagogue."  The trustees of the congregation apparently did not take the wording so literally as did Samuels.

In 1892 Congregation Kol Israel Anshe Poland sold the synagogue, as it moved into its new, expansive shul at Nos. 20-22 Forsyth Street.  Samuels was enraged when he realized that the pews allotted to him and his wife were numbered 20--not 10--and he demanded his rightful numbers.  The trustees refused, explaining that the relative location of the pews was the same, just not the numbering.

Samuels was unmoved and sued Congregation Kol Israel Anshe Poland to "redress the wrong which he claims to have suffered by reason of not having been allotted seats No. 10," according to court papers.  Although lawyers for the synagogue argued that the wording "same seat" referred to location and not specific number; the courts ruled in favor of Samuels.  What is unclear is whether the synagogue had to renumber all the pew seats; or whether Samuels and his wife were simply relocated.

In the meantime, No. 80 Forsyth Street became home to Beth Hamidrash Sha'arei Torah, also known as Sharo Torah.  An early New York congregation, it had been formed in 1856.  In 1906, the same year it celebrated its jubilee, it hired architect Nathan Langer to make "extensive alterations" to the synagogue, as described by the Record & Guide on March 24.

Many of the tenements in the neighborhood were dangerous firetraps.  Such was the case with the five-story building at No. 69 Forsyth Street, nearly opposite the synagogue.  At around 3:30 on the morning of June 21, 1925, fire broke out here.  The New York Times reported "All the six families in the house were aroused from sleep to find their rooms ablaze at the side and rear, and exit by the stairs cut off by flames that extended from the street level to the top." Among those trapped were the widow Freda Marks and her three sons, one of whom was an invalid, on the fifth floor.

Because the fire originated in the entrance hall on street level, the wooden stairs quickly burned through all the floors.  One of Mrs. Marks's neighbors, Louis Rosen, lived on the second floor with his wife and two children.  He later told reporters that he "opened his door to the hall and stair and was met by a gust of flame.  There were no rear fire escapes and his rooms at that end were afire."

Rosen tossed his children from the front windows to the arms of men on the sidewalk.  Then he lowered his wife and dropped her before jumping to the street himself.

Firemen found the Marks boys, 19-year old Alexander, "a semi-paralytic," Theodore and Benjamin all unconscious on the floor.  The Times reported "Mrs. Marks, who was 55 years old, was found dead on her bed, suffocated by smoke."  With the smell of smoke from the burned out building still pungent, the funeral of Freda Marks was held in the synagogue later that afternoon.

On October 12, 1930, after the buildings on the opposite side of Forsyth Street had been demolished and a new park was being constructed, a store was in the ground floor of the former synagogue (right).  photo from the collection of the New York Public Library

By 1930 Sharo Torah would leave Forsyth Street and by 1946, when the Manhattan Store Fixtures Company purchased No. 80 Forsyth Street, it was described as a "loft building."  The neighborhood would see incredible change beginning in 1965.

In 1882 the Government had passed the discriminatory Chinese Exclusion Act which essentially banned all immigration from China.  The restriction was slightly eased in 1943 when exactly 105 Chinese per year were allowed.  Then, in 1965, the Federal Government did away with the quota system and, as had been the case with Eastern and Middle Europeans a century earlier, Chinese arrived by the thousands and settled in the Lower East Side.

Two years before the change in immigration law, the former shul at No. 80 Forsyth Street had been purchased by abstract artists Milton Resnick and his wife Pat Passlof.  They converted it to two apartments--a duplex in the basement and ground floor, and another on the top floors.


Resnick and Passloff lived in worked out of No. 80.  His works are represented in prestigious galleries like the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington D. C., the National Gallery of Art, and the Museum of Modern Art in New York City.  Passlof, an abstract expressionist, had studied with Willem de Kooning.  Resnick died in 2004; and Passlof died of cancer at the age of 83 on November 23, 2011.

The building was sold in 2013 to, according to a Wall Street Journal article, "help fund a foundation to showcase [Resnick's] artwork and advance the legacy [Pat Passlof] thought he deserved."  The sale helped form the Milton Resnick and Pat Passlof Foundation, a non-profit organization to preserve, exhibit and publish works by the two artists, was well as "other painters working out of that tradition."

Today the former synagogue is painted an industrial green, and is surrounded by vinyl awnings with store names printed in Chinese characters.  The venerable structure which has seen such tremendous change is easily overlooked by the casual passerby.

photographs by the author