Francis A. Minuth's 1889 19 Bedford Street

 

Cast iron piers on each side of the ground floor are all that remain of the 19th century storefront.

When Bedford Street was laid out in 1799, the Greenwich Village neighborhood around it was still rural.  Why the road was named for a London street, given the recent war with England, is a puzzle.  Bedford Street was lined with prim, Federal Style homes in the 1820s.  But by the third quarter of the century, the neighborhood saw an influx of immigrants, sparking a flurry of construction of apartment buildings.

Julius Ritter purchased the vintage house at 19 Bedford Street, between Downing and Hancock Street, in 1888.  (Hancock Street would later be eradicated by the extension of Sixth Avenue.)  He commissioned German-born architect Francis A. Minuth to design a five-story store-and-flat building on the site.  Completed the following year, the structure cost $14,000 to build, or just under half a million in 2025 dollars.

Minuth designed 19 Bedford Street in the Renaissance Revival style, cladding the four upper floors in red brick.  The brownstone trim included Renaissance-inspired architraves.  Those of the second floor wore molded cornices, the center of which was capped with a classical triangular pediment.  At the fourth floor, a pretty Juliette balcony supported by a single foliate bracket decorated the center opening.  Terra cotta shells filled the arches above the top floor windows, and a bracketed cornice with a paneled and swagged fascia completed the design.

The residents of 19 Bedford Street and the neighborhood in general witnessed a thrilling incident on April 29, 1915.  Police Sergeant Camille Pierne and Policeman Dennis Mitchell were on patrol at the corner of Houston and Hancock Streets that night when they heard a gunshot.  They pursued a man  who ran from Hancock onto Bedford Street, and then into 19 Bedford.  Before entering the building, Sergeant Pierne instructed Mitchell to enter 21 Bedford Street and then cross to No. 19 on the roof.

As Pierne started up the staircase, he dropped down as a bullet whizzed by his head.  The New York Evening Telegram said, "Pierne answered the shot from his revolver and plunged on upstairs."  At the top floor, the sergeant saw his query disappear up the ladder and through the scuttle to the roof.  Pierne reached the rooftop just in time to see the man "climb over a barb wire fence separating the roof from that of 21, " reported The New York Times.

When Officer Mitchell emerged from the scuttle of No. 21, he faced the "man running toward him pistol in hand," according to The New York Times.  Mitchell fired once, missing his assailant.  In the meantime, Sergeant Pierne had gotten tangled in the barbed wire, slowing down his progress.  Mitchel and the man got into a wrestling match.  The New York Times said, "In the street below a crowd which had seen the chase start shouted and yelled with excitement as each moment the men seemed about to fall into the street."  

Finally, Pierne got free of the barbed wire and "threw himself upon the man," said The Times.  "Between them the policemen dragged him back from the roof's edge and finally got him down to the street."  As it turned out, the gunman was 21-year-old Benjamin Lotta, who ran a barbershop at 18 Cornelia Street.  The target of Lotta's original shooting was never found.

Edward Neary, who lived here in 1923, maintained pigeon coops on the roof.  On the evening of May 25, he was "flying pigeons," as reported by the New York Evening Telegram, when he noticed smoke pouring out of the apartment building at 40 Downing Street.  Minutes earlier, a fire had broken out in the kitchen of Mrs. Louis Sibi on the second floor of that building.

By the time Neary arrived at the scene, Mrs. Sibi and her two children, Albert and Arthur, one and two years old respectively, were at the window.  She was screaming for help.  Neary rushed into the burning building and grabbed the boys.  He carried them down the rear fire escape, while Nicoli Pepetti, who owned the building, carried Mrs. Sibi down.  

Neary was hailed a hero, credited with saving the boys' lives.  The New York Evening Telegram reported, "the flames had swept up the stairways, 'mushrooming' on each floor."

A renovation completed in 1940 replaced Francis A. Minuth's 1889 cast iron storefront.  A plate glass show window flooded the interior with natural light, and rather unattractive concrete blocks took the place of the original storefront's cornice.

The 1940 ground floor renovation resulted in an ugly scar between the first and second floors.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Living in the building at the time was Mary Young, a widow.  Four years earlier, in February 1936, she had to be hospitalized.  Her attorney, Michael J. Horan, persuaded her to give him power of attorney.  Over the next four years, Horan "drew $10,000 from her bank accounts," reported the New York Evening Post.  The attorney was indicted on grand larceny in February 1941.  He was summoned to the prosecutor's office where he "suffered nervous prostration."  His condition prevented his being immediately jailed, and he quickly disappeared.   On September 25, the New York Evening Post reported, "An eight-state alarm has been sent out for Horan, missing since he walked out of his home at 106 Washington Pl. on Feb. 18."

When Mary Young died in her apartment here at the age of 93 in 1949, Horan was still on the lam.  Ten years after he first disappeared, on July 18, 1951, The New York Times reported, "Michael J. Horan, 78-year-old disbarred attorney, appeared yesterday in General Sessions and eloquently defended himself against an accusation that he had mulcted a widow of her life savings."  

In 1953, the city condemned 19 Bedford Street as well as several other neighboring buildings.  The move was part of the plan first proposed by Parks Commissioner Robert Moses in 1928.  He envisioned an eight-lane highway, the Lower Manhattan Expressway, that would run from the Holland Tunnel to the Manhattan and Williamsburg Bridges.

Robert Mose's plan would have created Verrazano Street and eliminated the Bedford Street block.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

Moses's vision would include the creation of Verrazano Street, which would run through the Bedford and Downing Street neighborhood.  In 1957, a demolition permit for 19 Bedford Street was issued.  But Moses's grand project stalled.  Residents of 19 Bedford Street remained in their apartments, unsure of their futures here.

Twenty-nine years after the building was condemned, on November 13, 1980, The Villager reported on the city's plan of "demapping" of Verrazano Street--in other words, erasing the never-built thoroughfare from the map.  The tenants, who had been renting month-to-month from the city, were nervous.  Two months later, the newspaper reported, "Most of the rents in the buildings are very low and a large number of tenants are low-income or elderly people.  If the street is demapped, the buildings could be sold and the tenants evicted."

Of course, Verrazano Street was demapped and, happily, Robert Moses's extraordinary Lower Manhattan Expressway was scrapped.  No. 19 Bedford Street was sold by the city and the purchaser converted the building to five co-operative apartments, one per floor including the former storefront.  In eliminating the ground floor shop, a veneer of brick covered the unsightly concrete blocks of the 1940 renovation.

photographs by the author

The Remodeled Wm. W. McLaughlin House - 60 East 83rd Street

 

image via streeteasy.com

In June 1887, architect Francis A. Minuth filed plans for four four-story-and-basement homes on East 83rd Street between Fifth and Madison Avenues.  Their high-end tenor was reflected in the construction costs--the equivalent of $661,000 each by today's standards.  Interestingly, Minuth was working for two developers.  Charles Gulden was erecting 54 and 56 East 83rd Street, while Frederick Correll and his wife Caroline were responsible for 58 and 60.

Completed in 1888, Minuth had designed the brownstone-faced, Queen Anne style residences in an A-B-B-A configuration.  The easternmost house, 60 East 83rd Street, was a mirror image of 54, its wide stoop with beefy newels set to the west and its second story oriel and prominent mansard gable to the east--the opposite of its counterpart. 

The row as it appeared in 1940.  60 East 83rd Street is to the left.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The Corrells sold 60 East 83rd Street to wealthy clothier Hyman Sarner and his family.  He and his wife, the former Augusta Vogel had six children, Celia, Julius, Bertha, Martha, Marcus Joseph, and Hattie.  Like many well-to-do businessmen, Sarner dabbled in real estate development, and was perhaps best known for his battle over a five-foot wide strip of land on Lexington Avenue and 82nd Street six years earlier.  When the owner, Joseph Richardson, refused to lower his price, Sarner and his partner forged ahead, building an apartment house and leaving Richardson with what they considered a worthless strip of property.  The decision prompted what was widely known as "the incident."

A month after Sarner and his partner broke ground in May 1882, Richardson did the same.  He erected two houses on the 5-by-100-foot plot that blocked light and ventilation to the apartment building.  They were known as the Spite Houses.

On November 27, 1890, Bertha Sarner was married to Issac J. Silberstein in "the assembly rooms of the Metropolitan Opera House," as reported by the New York Herald.  Augusta nearly outshone her daughter, wearing "a gown of black velvet, en train, trimmed with point lace."

The Sarners sold 60 East 83rd Street on July 17, 1899 to one of New York's most colorful figures.  Known as the "Millionaire Cop," Inspector William W. McLaughlin had joined the New York Police Department on November 26, 1868.  The Times Union called him "among the most efficient enemies of criminals in New York police history."  McLaughlin was responsible for the capture of a string of forgers and thieves, including the tracking of a gang of elevated railroad robbers to Cuba and arresting them.

Now the head of the detective bureau, McLaughlin's career was not without stain.  He had faced trial in May 1895, charged by a State investigative committee of extortion.  He was accused of forcing shopkeepers and other businessmen to pay bribes to avoid being given fines for violations like blocking the sidewalk.  In court it was alleged McLaughlin's millions were amassed through such graft.  He countered, saying he earned his fortune in real estate dealings.

William and Mary A. McLaughlin had eight children.  Unlike most Irish cops, in his early years he spent his days off at art museums, honing what would become a fine knowledge of art.  By the time the family moved onto East 83rd Street, McLaughlin owned impressive and costly works.

The New York Sun said, "One of the best art collections in America is owned by a policeman," adding that McLaughlin's "brownstone mansion at 60 East Eighty-third street [is] hung with his old masters--Franz Hals, Turner, Delacroix, Corot, Inges, Landseer, Millet, Breugels and many others."  (In 1915 McLaughlin would value his collection "of rare pictures and etchings" at $250,000, nearly $7 million today.)  The newspaper noted, "There was some eye-rolling among the wealthy residents of upper Fifth avenue when he planted his mansion close by, but he didn't mind.  Those who know him say his love of art is informed and genuine."

McLaughlin's nationwide fame as a crook-catcher landed his image on a cigarette card.

McLaughlin had not given up his penchant for receiving money under the table.  It proved his undoing when he involved himself in a high-profile divorce case.  When millionaire Howard Gould and his wife, actress Katherine Clemmons, became embroiled in a high-profile divorce in 1907, McLaughlin gave him use of the Detective Bureau "to secure evidence to fight his wife's suit for separation," as reported by the Brooklyn Standard Union.

The discovery of the scheme resulted in a purge at the Police Department.  On April 20, 1907, The New York Times wrote, "The storm that has been hanging over Police Headquarters for more than a week broke yesterday, and eight Inspectors and almost unnumbered Detective Sergeants...in the Detective Bureau were hit.  Common patrolmen cluttered the earth."  Among the casualties, of course, was Inspector William W. McLaughlin.

The article reported that "William W. McLaughlin, known as a 'Millionaire Cop,'...[who] was sent to command a little Westchester station, suffered the hardest come-down that the Commissioner handed out yesterday."  A reporter was sent uptown, but "His magnificent house at 60 East Eight-third Street, among the millionaires, was closed up fast...A footman stood outside to tell reporters that the new Captain of the Westchester Precinct would see no one."

McLaughlin's humiliating demotion did not end the investigation.  On May 17 McLaughlin received a "list of questions" from the Commissioner regarding the Gould affair, asking him "to reply to them forthwith," as reported by The Sun.  The former inspector "was taken suddenly ill at his home" that night.  The Sun said he was afflicted with "a complication of diseases, of which the leading symptoms are rheumatism and bronchitis.  He may have others."

The Commissioner would never receive McLaughlin's reply.  On May 23 the Brooklyn Standard Union reported, "Rather than submit to a cross-examination and tell what he knows about the alleged use of the Detective Bureau by Howard Gould to secure evidence to fight his wife's suit for separation, it was rumored at Police Headquarters...that Capt. William McLaughlin, formerly head of the detective bureau as an inspector, had resigned."

Despite the shady circumstances surrounding his resignation, McLaughlin was granted a police pension of $2,500 per year (about $38,000 today).  He rebounded by opening McLaughlin's U. S. Detective Agency, no doubt employing several of the disgraced detectives from the Gould scandal.

Of their eight children, five were still living in the East 83rd Street house with William and Mary in 1911:  Violette and Edna, both unmarried, and William Jr., Thomas and Edward.

Fire broke out in the residence on the morning of February 22, 1915, after which the McLaughlins filed a claim for $70,000 in damages.  The Sun reported, "The inventory of the pictures destroyed included two canvases by Sir Joshua Reynolds, for which he paid $2,200; a Turner, valued at $1,250; two Troyons, worth $1,500 each; two Depres for one of which he paid $200 and for the other $1,000, and a Corot, valued at $1,500."  Mary additionally claimed the loss of $25,000 worth of clothing.

But, once again, it appeared that McLaughlin was acting a bit shadily.  The insurance company balked at the claim and it ended up in court in January 1916.  The insurance company brought in fire fighters, who testified "that it had taken them just five minutes to stamp out the fire entirely and that they had the hose turned on only one minute," according to The Sun on January 23.  The firm's experts asserted, "Only one dozen of the eighty-one paintings cited by the plaintiff...were actually damaged.  An additional $250, the experts declared, would have been sufficient to burnish up the other paintings whether they were injured or not."

Claiming that the McLaughlins had "willfully, maliciously and fraudulently" overstated the damage, the insurance company proposed that it was not obligated to pay a cent.  After deliberating for just over an hour, a jury agreed.  The Sun reported that it decided that Mary A. McLaughlin was "not entitled to any part of the $70,000 she asked in her suit against the National Fire Insurance Company."

On December 15, 1931 The New York Sun reported on the 85th birthday celebration planned for William McLaughlin the next day.  It reminisced about his storied career in law enforcement, calling him America's most famous thief catcher," and saying, "Trim in figure, natty in dress and a bit histrionic in his methods, he held the spotlight for years as the chief of the Detective Bureau."  Nothing was mentioned about the Gould scandal or any of the others.

Mary McLaughlin had been ill for an extended period at the time of the birthday party.  Fifteen days later the newspaper reported on her death.  Her funeral was held in the Church of St. Ignatius Loyola on Park Avenue at 84th Street on New Year's Eve.

Mary left her entire estate to William.  And that caused a problem within the family.  Years earlier Annie had opened a savings account for her mother at the Broadway Savings Bank.  Upon her death it contained a balance of $5,102.32--just over $100,000 by today's standards.  Because she had opened the account in her own name, Annie insisted it belonged to her.  Her father (somewhat surprisingly given his vast fortune) took her to court.  Helen Edna testified against her sister, saying that Annie had always referred to the account as "mother's money" and to the bankbooks as "mother's bankbooks."  On June 6, 1933 William W. McLaughlin won the suit against his daughter.

It was a short-lived victory.  McLaughlin was visiting his married daughter Irene Coffey in Mount Kisco, New York on October 13 that year when he suffered what the Times Union described as a "coughing spell" followed by a fatal heart attack.  Once again, newspapers dwelt on his notable career.  The Times Union said "He was said to know the Rogue's Gallery by heart and he was a master of criminal psychology."  The New York Sun recalled, "During his career he broke up the Red Hook gangs and performed numerous feats of police work which inspired District Attorney William Travers Jerome to call him the 'ablest man on the force.'"

Family infighting over the will lasted for nearly a decade.  Helen McLaughlin first contested it over the distribution of paintings and other artwork.  The suits continued through 1941.

In 1948 the former McLaughlin mansion was divided into apartments--two per floor.  The stoop was removed and the entrance lowered to the basement level.  

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

One of them was home to burgeoning designer Elia Delgado in the 1970's.  New York Magazine described her in 1979 saying, "A good dressmaker is rarer than a truthful press agent.  One who's been keeping society's seams straight for years is Elia Delgado, 60 East 83rd Street."

image via zillow.com

Then, a renovation completed in 2009 completely changed the personality of the 1888 residence.  Reconverted to a single family house, the brownstone front was removed and replaced by a modern neo-Classical facade.  What remained of the F. A. Minuth interiors were gutted in favor of more sterile, cleaner lines.

Many thanks to reader Keith Leong for requesting this post

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F. A. Minuth's 1901 60-62 West 15th Street

When the Walker & Keys Livery Stables opened in 1861, it catered to the well-to-do who lived in the Fifth Avenue mansions and luxurious row houses along the side blocks.  Located at No. 20 West 15th Street, it was just far enough away from Fifth Avenue to be unoffensive; yet close enough to be convenient.  In 1888 Illustrated New York described the 50-foot wide facility as being "well lighted, drained, and ventilated and possesses first-class accommodations for fifty horses.

Illustrated New York noted "Walker's tally-ho coaches also have a wide celebrity, and are liberally patronized."  Illustrated New York 1888 (copyright expired)

By the time of Illustrated New York's article, however, the neighborhood was greatly changing.  Wealthy homeowners were moving further uptown and Sixth Avenue, just steps away from the stable, was filling with retail stores.  As the century wore down, Walker & Keys would relocate as well.

In July 1901 German-born architect Francis A. Minuth filed plans for a six-story brick and stone loft and store building on the site for developer Charles Wittenauer.  Construction costs were estimated at $70,000, or about $2.13 million today.  Minuth was perhaps a surprising choice as he was better known for designing apartment buildings.

His triparte design was defined by two intermittent stone cornices.  The two-story limestone faced base included a cast iron storefront.  The banded piers on either side terminated in carved Beaux Arts cartouches.  Minuth abruptly changed styles for the red brick upper floors--a prim take on Renaissance Revival.  The three-story brick piers of the mid-section were capped with simple stone capitals.  The top floor repeated the design, but replaced the grouped center rectangular windows with three arched openings.  Minuth's handsome design disguised the structure's industrial purpose.  

The building filled with apparel factories; one of the first of which was an immediate failure.  Two hopeful businessmen with remarkably similar surnames, Frederick Heyman and Julius H. Hayman, formed the partnership of Hayman & Co. in October 1902.  They took space in the 15th Street building and began manufacturing "clothing and children's dresses."

But the partners apparently could not get along.  Although their finances were solid (the New-York Tribune said "the firm is solvent"), Heyman suited Hayman "to dissolve the partnership."  On February 20, 1902 the New-York Tribune reported that the firm had closed.  "They have been in business three months."

Other garment manufacturers in the building included Sal Elner, who made cloaks.  He moved here the same year that Hayman & Co. moved out.  In 1913 tenants included Kleinfeld & Renner, "cloaks;" Century Dress Co.; Excel Mfg. Co., "waists and dresses;" and Abraham Cohen, another dress maker. 

The estate of Charles Wittenauer still owned the building in 1916 when a fire escape and new windows were installed.  Although the grand emporiums of Sixth Avenue had abandoned the Ladies' Mile by now, No. 60-62 would continue to house apparel manufacturers through most of the 1920's.

The entire building was leased to the Ambassador Furniture Warehouse in the late 1920's.  The Great Depression may have dealt a fatal blow to the firm.  As the lease neared expiration in 1932, a massive liquidation auction was held on April 25.

Two years later the second floor in the building was leased by the Artists Union.  Founded in September 1933  as the Emergency Work Bureau Artists Group, it was a union of New York artists and had already been influential in the Roosevelt Administration's establishment of the Public Works of Art Project.  Among the founding members of the Artists Union were Communist Party members Boris Gorelick, Max Spivak and Phil Bard.

The raised fist iconography of the 1934 membership card suggests the group's leftist leanings.

Every Wednesday evening meetings were held in the second floor space.  A magazine, Art Front, was published here beginning in November 1934.  Exhibitions and a weekly dance were perks for struggling artists.  On March 23, 1935, for instance, The New York Times reported on a sculpture exhibition.  "This exhibition by the newly organized sculpture division of the Artists Union consists of 109 items representing the work of eighty-nine sculptors."

from Art Front, February 1935

In reporting on the show, the article noted "The Artists Union was formed to establish trade union recognition for artists in the works projects conducted by the government and to fight for a municipal art center.  It has more than 1,300 members."  The group was visible in demonstrations and protests, earning it the name of the "fire brigade."  And its constant pressure reaped results.  The formation of the Federal Art Projects in August 1935 is generally attributed to the efforts of the Artists Union.  

On August 15 that year 83 members were arrested for disorderly conduct in front of the College Arts Association.  The Times reported "The pickets, who were employed on a CWA [Civil Works Administration] project, held a demonstration as a protest against delay in receiving their wages."

The Artists Union had moved to No. 430 Sixth Avenue by November 1936 when members employed by the Works Progress Administration proposed replacing the advertising panels in the subway stations with murals.  Union spokesperson Elizabeth Olds told The Times that the proposal had "been received with interest by representatives of the city."

Much less colorful tenants were Thomas A. Conlan's electrician shop, here in 1937, and the Universal Novelty Company in 1939.  The Stelton Manufacturing Company faced potential collapse when the United States entered World War II.  The firm manufactured rubber sheets for baby beds and rubber baby pants.  

The Government imposed strict rationing on commodities needed for the war effort--including rubber which was so vital for the manufacture of jeep and truck tires, for example.  Luckily for Stelton, on May 13, 1943 it received permission to "sell, offer to sell, deliver and transfer" its baby articles.  (The wholesale price of a dozen baby pants was capped by the Government at $2.75.)

photo via 6sqft

A renovation competed in 1979 resulted in one apartment per floor above the retail space.  Francis A. Minuth's dignified 1901 loft building, easily overlooked on the quiet block, has changed little outwardly.

photographs by the author

Francis Minuth's 1892 569-579 Columbus Avenue

The complex and eye-catching pediment visually set the flat building apartment from its peers.

On May 24, 1890 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide commented on the improved layout of flats devised by architect Francis A. Minuth.  "In houses of this class it is almost invariably the case that neither the kitchen nor the bathroom can be reached without passing through the dining-room for that purpose, so that any plan which affords independent access to each and every room must commend itself to builders at once," said the writer.  With Minuth's design, "The stairways are so place and the halls so divided...that each suite of apartment has a separate hallway which can be entirely shut off from either side.  All windows open directly upon an open court affording an abundance of light and air to halls, stairs, sleeping rooms, kitchens, etc."

A typical floor plan using Minuth's improved design.  Record & Guide May 24, 1890 (copyright expired)

The article might have caught the eye of developer John Casey.  Within a few months he commissioned Minuth to design a "brick and stone flats" on the southeast corner of Columbus Avenue and 88th Street.  As ground breaking neared on January 24, 1891 the Record & Guide reported "It is to be part fireproof in construction, with iron stairways, elevator and all improvements."  The cost of the project was estimated at $150,000--about $4.27 million today.

Entered at No. 72 West 88th Street, the building was a blend of Romanesque and Renaissance Revival with a splash of Queen Anne.  The asymmetrical Columbus Avenue elevation was clad in orange brick and trimmed in stone and terra cotta.  The treatment of the 88th Street fenestration was interestingly different in that western-most third and fourth floor openings were unified within an arched stone frame; and the slightly projecting section that included the entrance bore nearly no resemblance to its counterpart on the avenue.

Even the triangular pediment wore a different Queen Anne design than that on the avenue.

The buildings' tenants were upper-middle class, making their apartments attractive targets for thieves.  One pair, Arthur Mason and John Williams, devised a clever ruse.  They would peruse newspaper ads for apartments for rent, then appear at the doors asking to look over the premises.  When they left, the current residents discovered missing jewelry or other valuables.

In the spring of 1896 Victor R. Delnose became a victim--one of scores as it turned out.  Armed with dozens of eyewitness descriptions, police nabbed the pair on June 2 and Delnose was among those called to the station house to identify them.  The crooks admitted to having robbed more than 100 flats in the Upper West Side neighborhood over a period of two years.   The following day when they appeared before a judge Delnose was back in court to testify.

William W. Scheffler and his wife, Sadie, lived at No. 72 at the time.  The couple had three daughters, Marion Goldie, Elsie Marie,  and June.  Scheffler was the owner of the Hair Coloring Company, a "manufacturer of cosmetics."   The Evening Telegram described him as "a young, rather aristocratic looking man, with hair prematurely gray."  His wife's name appeared in society pages for her entertainments, such as the afternoon reception she hosted on November 19, 1898.

But for months both their names would appear in print after their friend, Roland Burnham Molineux was arrested for the murder of Katherine Adams. Both Molineux and Scheffler were members of the New York Athletic Club and Molineux was a frequent guest of at the Schefflers' apartment.  

In 1898 Molineux became engaged in a feud with Harry Seymour Cornish, the athletic director of the Knickerbocker Athletic Club.  He mailed a bottle of Emerson's Bromo-Seltzer to Cornish's attention at the club.  Molineux had mixed the medicine with cyanide of mercury.  Tragically, Cornish took the bottle home that night.  The following morning, December 28, his 62-year old cousin Katherine Adams was suffering a headache.  Cornish mixed the bromo-seltzer with water and gave it to his aunt.  She died shortly after the doctor arrived.

William and Sadie appeared in court several times during the months-long trial.  Both were questioned on January 4, for instance, concerning a letter Molineux sent to Scheffler complaining about Cornish.

The Schefflers were apparently friendly with other well-heeled residents in the building.  When Robert Williamson and his wife gave a musicale in June 1989 The Evening Telegram listed the Schefflers among the guests.  Sadie provided part of the entertainment, as well.  The article listed the musicians' names, then added "Recitations by Mrs. William Scheffler."

One resident of No. 72 that year, Angel Emanuel, was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.  On January 14, 1898 "almost the entire staff of detectives at Police Headquarters was called into use," according to The Sun, in a massive raid on "bucket shops" across the city.    The term referred illegal gambling on stock market fluctuations.  Emanuel was arrested in the office of Ridley, Peiser & Co. 

The embarrassing incident was an exception to the press coverage of residents.  As they did with the Schefflers, society columnists covered the movements of the Williamsons.   On April 24, 1901 The Evening Telegram updated its readers:  "Mrs. Robert Williamson...has returned from the South, where she has been for the past two months...Mrs. Williamson will resume her Sundays at home."  And on January 21, 1903 the newspaper announced "Mrs. Robert Williamson...will give a large reception to-day, at which there will be some special music."

Newspapers mentioned two residents in 1902 for a terrifying reason.   On February 17 The New York Times reported "Mary Harmon, fifty-two years old, of 72 West Eighty-eighth Street was removed from her home to North Brother Island yesterday suffering from smallpox.  The house is the one from which Maria Lilly was removed, suffering from smallpox, on Saturday."

In 1910 Benjamin Hano and his wife lived in the apartment directly above that of Alderman Joseph Schloss and his wife, Nettie.  Hano was a "wholesale jobber and manufacturer of blank books."  On Saturday, March 12, that year the couple hosted a card party that extended late into the night.  The noise kept Nettie Schloss awake and she at first rapped on the steam pipes, then hit the ceiling with a broom handle.  The guests upstairs were not pleased with the disruption of their fun.

The party broke up at 2:00.  According to Nettie "As some of the card players were passing my door they began to carry on in a high-handed manner, and I opened the door to remonstrate with them."  It was a bad idea.  Harry Redlick grabbed Nettie by the arm and dragged her from her doorway in her nightclothes.  "He knocked me down and then kicked me," told officers.

The melee continued when Joseph Schloss was awakened by his wife's screams.  The New York Herald reported that "he rushed into the hallway, and for a moment thought his wife was being murdered and struck two men who stood near the door."  The ruckus ended up in court with the Schlosses filing suit against Redlick who claimed it was Nettie who stormed out of the apartment and attacked him.

The Schlosses were still here eight years later when their son, Joseph, Jr. went off to World War I.  They received the horrifying news on November 15, 1918 they he had died of disease--possible influenza or dysentery, both of which were decimating troops.

In the meantime the Columbus Avenue stores were home to a variety of tenants.  In 1895 a tailor shop was at No. 569, and No. 579 was the pharmacy of Frederick Kleinschmidt.  Among the items available there was Paine's Celery Compound, "a blood nerve remedy."  William Becker worked in Kleinschmidt's drug store while he studied at the New York College of Pharmacy.  On January 26, 1896 he was the victim of a bizarre and horrifying accident.  The Pharmaceutical Era reported that he "lost his right eye by the explosion of a syphon of vichy water."

Frederick Kleinschmidt remained in business until 1925.  On his 102nd birthday in 1967 he commented "I'd like to be a little younger.  Fifty is a good age.  A man is settled down by then."

By the Depression years residents here were far less affluent and several were much less upstanding than the Schefflers and Williamsons.  William Duffy was arrested on May 1, 1930 and charged with assault and robbery.  

Edward Rothenberg operated a grocery and "dairy store" in the ground floor of No. 577 Columbus Avenue.  Just past midnight on January 27, 1939 Patrolmen James Niland and James J. P. McShane became suspicious of two teens "peering into stores" along the avenue.  They hailed a cab and followed Alexander Dekas and Thomas Evantino; then witnessed them break the window of Rothenberg's store and entered.

As the patrolmen leaped from the cab, the youths fled in separate directions.  Each cop pursued a suspect, and during the chase 18-year old Fekas was shot in the hand.  He had $20 from Rothenberg's cash register in his pocket (about $362 today).

Ten months later the grocery store was targeted again.  At 11:30 on the night of November 9, 1939 Patrolman McShane's looked into why an idling automobile was sitting in front of the store.  Just as he walked up to talk to the driver "two men with pistols in hand ran out of the dairy," reported The New York Sun.  To reduce the three-against-one odds, "Patrolman McShane cracked the driver over the head with his baton, which reduced him to temporary negligibility, and drew his revolver."  In the flight and gun battle that followed, one of the gunmen was killed and the other captured.

By 1975 Edward Rothenberg's grocery store had become the offices of the Movement of the Puerto Rican National Left.  Founded in 1970 as a community group, The New York Times said on November 9 that year "It is limited to New York and supports 'international proletarianism' and Marxism-Leninism."  The group published a leftist newsletter here.

The service alley to the side provides unexpected light and ventilation. 

Other than the altered storefronts and replacement windows, outwardly Francis A. Minuth's 1892 group is relatively unchanged after more than a century and a quarter.

photographs by the author

The 1905 Revillon Freres Bldg -- Nos. 19-17 W. 34th Street

The lower floors of the Revillon Freres building, now the Martin Building, have endured repeated remodeling.

When the Revillon Brothers started their fur company in 1723 New York City was still governed by the British and the area around what would become Fifth Avenue and 34^th Street was countryside.  Nearly two centuries later much would have changed.

By the end of the 19^th century, the French firm Revillon Freres was a leading retailer and manufacturer of luxury furs and accessories.   In 1890, its first store was opened in New York on Broadway.  It was an instant success as women of the city’s carriage trade sought out custom-made coats and wraps in exotic furs.  The company quickly erected its own building on West 28^th Street.  But that, too, would soon prove insufficient.

As a reflection of its high-end product, Revillon Freres included an automobile in its 1900 advertisement (copyright expired)

When the Astor Family razed their brownstone mansions on Fifth Avenue between 33^rd and 34^th Streets to erect the hulking, combined Waldorf and Astoria Hotels, the quietude of the exclusive neighborhood was shattered.   Within only a few years the brownstone mansions in the immediate area were razed or converted to commercial use, and by 1905 broad 34^th Street was lined with high-end stores.

The two impressive brownstone mansions at 19 and 17 West 34^th Street were about to go.  Owned by James W. Pryor and Henry P. Loomis, they sat mid-block between Fifth and Sixth Avenues, and were being crowded out by retailers.  Pryor was the first to relent.

In the place of 17 East 34th Street rose an 11-story store and loft building designed by Francis A. Minuth with a single tenant:  Revillon Freres.  On February 11, 1905 the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide noted that Revillon Freres had leased the building for “a term of years.”  The limestone-clad building stretched through the block to 35^th Street.   Foliage-carved spandrels, carved bands between floors and Beaux Arts decoration added interest to the Italian Renaissance-inspired structure.    The two-story base featured shallow limestone bands.

Within a year the building was enlarged to the west with the acquisition of the Loomis’s house and the erection of a matching extension.



Below an openwork balustrade on the 35th Street side are four carved faces, two smug looking women and two aghast men.

The wealth of Revillon Freres’ customers and the expensive nature of its wares were evident shortly after the new store opened.   The firm offered cold storage to its clients and Belinda Carbonneau placed a few items in their warehouse for safe keeping.  In 1905, she called for her furs.  To her dismay, and that of Revillon Freres, her items were gone.

“The furs and wearing apparel alleged to have been lost consisted of a $6,000 seal-lined Hudson Bay fur coat, a $200 seal-lined coat, a robe of eagle feathers lined with lavender cloth, and an ermine stole,” reported The New York Times.   The first coat alone would be worth about $120,000 in 2012.

On February 2, 1908, the store advertised less expensive, ready-made Russian pony coats, short seal skin coats and imported cloth coats (fur lined) with prices up to $400.

A  year later a New York socialite ordered a matching muff and stole and waited eagerly for its completion.    The Moscow agent of Revillon Freres carefully selected the matching Russian sable pelts and shipped them to New York.  The muff was valued at $5,000 and the stole at $4,000.

The wealthy customer was promised delivery of her completed furs on October 21, 1909.  On October 20 the stole was completed and work continued on the muff late into the night.   The man working on the muff went to supper and became ill at the restaurant, so he went home rather than completing the muff.   But, said The New York Times, he “determined to go back to the workrooms early next morning and complete it.  When he did return the nearly completed muff was missing.”

The theft was not only an expensive loss for the company, it was a disastrous blow to public relations.  High end retailers, then as now, were less than eager to tell a society leader that her long-awaited purchases were lost.  “It was impossible to duplicate the furs here,” said The New York Times, “and so the agent in Moscow was notified and new furs were selected and sent here, while the unsuccessful thief search went on.”

As the stock ledgers were examined, other thefts were noticed.  Police and private detectives scratched their heads as they “scoured the city [and] they could get no trace of the missing muff or thieves.”   Law enforcement officials gave up all hope of finding the perpetrators.

That is, until  Mrs. George E. Knox entered a Cleveland fur dealer’s shop and offered a mink and ermine set valued at $500 “for a very small sum.”   The dealer recognized the pieces as the work of Revillon Freres and suspected foul play.  While the woman waited, he quietly summoned the police.    A traveling salesman for Revillon Freres was brought in who recognized the stolen set.

Mrs. Knox, who also went by the name of Mary Ingram, was the wife of George Knox, a former elevator boy at Revillon.  When police found pawn tickets in a trunk in their room, he confessed to the robberies, telling police the “jig is up.”  Before long the jig was up for Thomas Mullins, former Captain of elevator boys in the building, who was part of the three-person ring.  At the time of their arrests, police estimated the value of the stolen pieces at $25,000.

The exquisitely carved oak leaves and acorns in the spandrels of the 35th Street entrances, along with the decorative ironwork, hint at the original appearance of the 34th Street facades.

Revillon Freres continued its tradition of relocating uptown and on January 3, 1912 The New York Times reported that negotiations were underway to sublease the 34^th Street building.   “It was stated that the Revillon concern would move to new quarters in the Fifth Avenue vicinity near by, probably taking one of the new loft buildings above Thirty-sixty Street,” the article said.

Indeed, by 1918 Revillon Freres had relocated to Fifth Avenue and 53^rd Street.  Bedell Company, women’s “cloak and suit” store, took over the former Revillon Building, adding to the growing number of department stores like B. Altman and Macy’s in the immediate area.  Upper floors were leased to wholesale garment dealers like Rotary Frocks, Inc.

Bond Thomas managed Bedell’s until just after the new year in 1920.  He returned to his home in Plainfield, New Jersey after having felt ill for about a week.  The retailer went to bed and never got up.  “For two weeks it has been impossible to arouse him,” reported the New-York Tribune on January 25.  Diagnosed with “sleeping sickness,” he was examined by specialists, including his brother who was a member of the faculty of Johns Hopkins Medical College, and his brother-in-law, Dr. Simon Flexner.

“But the results of their treatment do not encourage them,” said the New-York Tribune.  “Nourishment is given to the patient, but his condition is regarded as critical.”

On February 21, 1922, Martin Bulagur, president of Rotary Frocks, pulled off an ingenious but dangerous ploy here.  While he was working with buyers from Chicago, two men entered his showroom introducing themselves as buyers from Montreal.   While Bulagur finished up with the Chicago buyers, the two men waited in another room.

When Bulagur entered the room to work with the Montreal buyers, he noticed several dresses were missing.  “Bulagur then did some thinking,” reported the New-York Tribune.  He questioned the men about the contents of a large duffel bag they had with them and when they started for the elevator he went into action.  “He trust his right hand into his hip pocket, called for them to halt and told them they’d better stay halted,” said the newspaper.

The corny finger-in-the-pocket trick worked.  The thieves believed Bulagur had a handgun and remained frozen until police arrived.  The Montreal buyers were revealed to be from the Bronx.

In 1928, architect Joseph Urban was commissioned to update the façade of the Bedell store.  The banded limestone was replaced with four floors of sleek Art Deco polished black granite.   Panels of streamlined zig-zag motifs and waterfall light fixtures contrasted with the dark stone.   The entrance was protected by a lavish two-story Art Deco bowed screen.

Below eight stories of Victorian facade, Joseph Urban brought the retail space squarely into the Roaring 20s -- photo from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Meanwhile, on West 35^th Street the old Revillon Freres façade lived on.

The wonderful Art Deco façade of Joseph Urban was demolished only a few years later.  By the 1940s it had been replaced with a hideous, nondescript slab as Lerner Shops took over most of the building and installed arcade windows at street level.

A gruesome slab replaced Urban's fabulous Art Deco facade by 1943 -- photo NYPL Collection

With the 21^st century, the block along West 34^th Street experienced a renaissance as national chain retailers renovated old store spaces.  Banana Republic took over the lower floors of what was now called The Martin Building and the façade was once again revamped.  Interestingly, Banana Republic’s entrance includes a two-story bowed section reminiscent of Urban’s design.

On the 35th Street facade, a cartouche with the Revillon Freres monogram sits among carved oak leaves.

But a walk around the block reveals the Francis A. Minuth's original 1905 Revillon Freres façade at Nos. 30-32 West 35^th Street.   A lavishly-carved cartouche beneath the third floor cornice holds an entwined RF.  The carved ornamentation from sidewalk to roof is intact—giving a visible sense of what the exclusive furrier’s 34^th Street store must have looked like.

The banded base and Beaux Arts carvings of the 35th Street facade survive.

non-historic photographs taken by the author