A Limestone-Faced Phoenix --93-95 Franklin Street

 

When the Civil War erupted, Swedish-born marine engineer John Ericsson lived in the Federal-style house at 93 Franklin Street.  Years earlier, in 1844, he had designed the U.S.S. Princeton, the first screw-propeller warship.  Now his engineering mastery was called upon by the Union Navy.  He designed the ironclad Monitor, which defeated the Confederate Merrimac in the Battle of Hampton Roads in March 1862.  On March 12, he was honored at a special meeting of the Chamber of Commerce for his successful contribution to the Union's victory.

The performance of the Monitor prompted increased Ericsson's workload.  On September 3, 1862, an ad appeared in the New York Herald reading:

Wanted Immediately--At 93 Franklin Street, several mechanical draughtsmen to work upon drawings of iron-clad steamers.  Those engaged, who may be drawn in the coming military draft, will be immediately discharged by the Secretary of War.  None but first class draughtsmen need apply.

Ericsson was most likely renting 93 Franklin Street, and in 1864 he purchased another Federal style house at 36 Beach Street.  He may have been hurried along in the move by his landlord.  That same year, William Watson demolished 93 Franklin and its neighbor at 95 and began construction on a modern, limestone-faced loft building.

Completed in 1866, 93-95 Franklin Street was a commercial version of an Italian palazzo.  Above the cast iron, Corinthian columned storefront, tall windows in dignified molded frames sat below prominent cornices.  Stacks of quoins ran up the side of the building, which terminated in a bracketed cornice.

The building's first tenant was the wholesale dry goods firm Davis, Rhodes & Co., which moved in before construction was completed.  On March 5, 1865 it advertised "Choice Goods Cheap."  The names of several of the yard goods it offered would sound alien to customers today, like jaconets, mozambiques, de laines, and drills.

Sadly for the owners, things did not work out.  On November 13, 1867, an announcement "to the trade" in the Evening Express noted:

In consequence of two of the partners declining business, on the 1st of January next, DAVIS, RHODES & CO, 93 & 95 Franklin Street, will sell, for cash, their entire stock of goods, in lots to suit purchasers, at the LOWEST PRICES the same Goods have been sold at the late Auction Sales. Their stock embraces a great variety of dress goods, cloths, Kentucky jeans, flannels, blankets  &c, &c, &c.

In 1869, L. Levenson & Co., makers and jobbers of clothing were here, as was the dry goods firm Loder & Lockwood.  The latter not only sold textiles, but made clothing for select customers.  An ad in the New York Herald on June 2, 1869 read, "Wanted--A Tailor of custom work who understands cutting and making clothes to order.  Call at 10 o'clock at 93 and 95 Franklin st, to Loder & Lockwood."

Among the tenants in the 1890s was Wilson & Bradbury, dry goods commission merchants, which also had a branch in Philadelphia.  The firm was established in 1852.  Also here was the New York office of Fenton, Cooper & Co.  The Belfast-based firm made Irish linens.  

Frederick Hazleton ran the Franklin Street operation of Fenton, Cooper & Co.  Working closely with him was John Emison, the cashier and bookkeeper.  Because Hazleton spent much of his time traveling, Emison had a power of attorney to sign checks.  The temptation proved too much in 1894.

On October 12, Hazleton returned from a two-week trip.  The Evening World reported, "He expected to find from $50,000 to $60,000 in [the] bank to his credit.  He found only $4,000."  He immediately had his bookkeeper arrested.  With Emison behind bars, Hazelton went through the ledgers.  "A closer examination of Emison's books showed the shortage to be $53,000," said The World.  (The figure would translate to a staggering $1.86 million in 2024.)  As it turned out, the 38-year-old married man had gambled the money away in the stock market.  "It is said that he has lost most of the $53,000 in Wall street speculations."

The turn of the century saw other dry goods and apparel-related firms in the building, including E. McConnell & Co., The S. Herbert Golden Co., and Tim & Company, dealers in "white and fancy linen and cotton shirts, men's and women's collars and cuffs."  Shirts and collars were made and sold separately, and Tim & Company introduced a novel style collar in 1908.  Because collars were buttoned onto the shirt, neckties would often snag.  The buttons on the firm's "Ti-Easy" collars were separated from the tie by a cloth band, preventing snags.

Dry Goods Reporter, December 26, 1908 (copyright expired)

Gotham Underwear Company operated from 93-95 Franklin Street at the time.  The firm's tag line was "The Underwear of a Gentleman."  An advertisement in Hampton's Magazine in 1909 urged, "

Don't grill--don't sizzle--avoid clinging, suffocating under-garments for summer weather.  Try the cool loose fitting soft texture Gotham Summer Underwear and Pajamas.  They permit free circulation of air and freedom of motion, are sensibly cut over roomy patterns and tailored in a faultless manner.

At 6:15 on the evening of June 24, 1913, what the New-York Tribune described as "a spectacular three-alarm fire" broke out on the third floor of 93-95 Franklin Street.  There were four tenants in the building at the time--Wilson & Bradbury, linen dealers; I. Weinman, "elastic webs" merchant; handkerchief maker Adam Brickerhoff; and one floor was used by the Independent 5 and 10 Cent Stores for storage of inventory.

The fire spread quickly, trapping several factory girls who had just been preparing to leave for the day.  The New-York Tribune reported they "became excited and ran upstairs to the roof, and by crossing several adjoining roofs, reach the street by the fire escape on Nos. 253 and 255 Church street." 

The conflagration spread to five nearby buildings.  Five firefighters on the fire escape at the third floor were nearly killed.  The New-York Tribune reported "a back draft hit the five men unawares and a sheet of flame caught Lieutenant McKenna, throwing him against [firefighter] Simonetti.  Simonetti was thrown down the well to the fire escape below and only saved himself by clinging to the iron ladder."  Another fire fighter leaped over the railing as the flames "licked his face and ears."  He dangled from I. Wienmann's metal sign until coworkers could rescue him.

Two hours into the battle, the fire seemed under control.  Deputy Chief Binns and another firefighter entered the ground floor of 93-95 Franklin Street.  The New-York Tribune reported that Binns "had hardly reached the stairs leading to the cellar, when there was a loud crash.  Timbers from the floors above came tumbling down, carrying with them a part of the second floor.  Binns and his assistant were struck by the flying debris, but were unhurt."  In the aftermath of the inferno, "Only the walls were left standing," said the article.

Architect Robert Teichman was commissioned by the William Watson Estate to salvage what he could from the burned out shell.  On November 14, he filed plans for a "two-story brick and stone loft and office building."  As it turned out, Teichman was able to rescue three floors.  Now essentially a stump of the former distinguished structure, 93-95 Franklin Street was leased to Cohn, Marx & Co., dealers in imported and domestic textiles.

93-95 Franklin Street became an abbreviated version of its pre-fire self.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

George Gfroehrer was the night watchman for Cohn, Marx & Co. in 1922.  The married Long Island resident earned $23.08 each week (about $400 today).  On the night of April 19, he was making his rounds when he stepped into an open elevator shaft.  His fall to the basement was fatal.  A Workmen's Compensation hearing in 1925 awarded his family the $603.90 funeral expenses they had paid.

Better Waists, December 1921 (copyright expired)

An advertisement in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle on November 20, 1943 sought females to deliver inter-office mail.

GIRLS--Very fine opportunity for future with a large textile firm. Experience unnecessary. We prefer high school graduates who are neat in appearance and mentally alert. To such girls we offer work in our mailing department distributing mail to various departments. The work and surroundings are pleasant, with definite possibilities for advancement. Apply PERSONNEL DEPARTMENT. 3d Floor 93-95 Franklin 8t.. N.Y.C

A renaissance of the Tribeca district in the last quarter of the 20th century finally arrived at 93-95 Franklin Street in 2001 when plans were filed for the building to be "enlarged vertically."  In an astounding renovation, three floors were added that seamlessly meld with the 1866 architecture.  The  restoration architects left no hint to the casual passerby that the top floors are not original.  There are now eight apartments in the building.

photographs by the author

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J. Morgan Slade's 1883 86-88 Franklin Street

 

On December 1, 1880, James O'Donohue sold the "two-story brick factory building and two-story frame shop in rear" at 88 Franklin Street to Isaac W. Howe and William P. Draper.  The sale came at a time when the transformation of the Tribeca neighborhood from residential to commercial was nearly complete.  Almost three months later, on January 31, 1881, the men (who lived in Nahant, Massachusetts) purchased the "four-story brick warehouse" next door at 86 Franklin. 

On April 23, 1881, The Real Estate Record reported, "Isaac W. Howe and William P. Draper will build a first class store in Franklin st," saying it would be six-stories high and come "from the designs of J. M. Slade."  The article continued, "It will have an iron front and all the modern improvements...The cost is $55,000."  Coupled with the $80,500 Howe and Draper had spent on the real estate, their total outlay would came to about $4 million in 2024 terms.

Early in the building's construction, tragedy hit.  On September 8, 1881, The New York Times reported, "Thomas H. Close, a carpenter, 46 years of age...fell from the sixth floor of the new building No. 88 Franklin-street to the cellar yesterday, and was instantly killed."

Completed in 1883, the 50-foot-wide cast iron structure was handsome and regimented.  Jarvis Morgan Slade had blended elements of Second Empire (in the gently arched openings, for instance), with the geometric lines of the currently popular neo-Grec, and whimsical elements of Queen Anne, seen, for instance, in the pencil-thin columns connected to the facade by decorative plates.

Two of the main selling points of cast iron facades were the quickness with which they were erected, and their fireproof qualities.  The remains of gutted interiors often smoldered behind intact cast iron fronts.  Surprisingly, therefore, after fire broke out on the top floor of 86-88 Franklin Street in 1895, the galvanized iron cornice had to be replaced and some of the sixth floor ironwork required repairing.

Among the early tenants was Bamberger, Oppenheimer & Co., manufacturers of umbrellas and parasols.  Founded by Herman Bamberger and Max Oppenheimer in 1868, New York's Great Industries said in 1884, "few have developed a larger and more widespread trade."

Also in the building were Manning & Co., selling agents for woolen manufacturers; and Loew & Schoenfeld, importers of embroideries.  The latter was a rather small operation, employing just six women who worked 54 hours per week in 1895.

Theodore Vogler was the proprietor of Vogler's Brooklyn and New York Express.  Somewhat surprisingly, he personally drove one of the firm's wagons into Manhattan on the afternoon of January 16, 1893 with a load of packages, one of which was destined for 86-88 Franklin Street.  Vogler pulled his wagon to the curb and took the parcel inside.  The Evening World reported, "he reappeared in time to see a short, stockily built man grab a package from the wagon and start to run away."

Vogler gave chase and, as he nearly closed the gap between them, the crook dropped the package and attacked.  The article said, "Vogler struck out full force striking the thief on the head, felling him to the sidewalk.  The man lay motionless, and blood began oozing from his mouth and ears."  He had not regained consciousness when he was removed to Chambers Street Hospital.  

Theodore Vogler went to the Leonard Street Police Station, explained what had happened, and turned himself in.  The police knew the victim, who had been in the Tombs just two weeks earlier charged with "attempting to rob a huckster's cart."  Several of Vogler's friends pleaded unsuccessfully with Justice Simms to release him on bail.  He was held in the Tombs "to await the result of injuries" on the man, which The Evening World described as a "fracture of the skulls, which, in all probability, will result fatally."

The turn of the century saw another umbrella maker, Worman, Simons & Co., in the building.  In 1901 it employed 10 men and 30 women who worked 57 hours a week.  Also here was the New York branch of the San Francisco-based shirt and overalls manufacturer, Neustadter Brothers.  

The Neustadter Brothers space was in the rear of 86-88 Franklin Street at a 90-degree angle to the rear of 273-275 Church Street.  Neustadter Brothers, expectedly, had several female employees.  One view from its windows looked directly into the washroom of A. Shrimpton & Co. in the Church Street building.  "Persons using it could be seen by the Neustadter hands through the open windows," said The New York Times on August 9, 1903, "and the latter's operatives thought a screen for the window would be about the right thing."  Rather than simply asking A. Shrimpton & Co. to erect the screen, the Neustadter Brothers manager, a Mr. Fischer, filed a complaint with the Factory Inspection Bureau.  It launched what The New York Times called a "merry washroom war."

"An Inspector was sent to Shrimpton's, and when the purport of his visit was made known, Mr. Schrimpton, Sr. was very angry."  He complied with the order to erect a screen, but placed a sign on it that read, "This is private property.  Look the other way."

Now it was Fischer who was angered, and he complained to the Factory Inspection Bureau a second time.  The New York Times reported, "Mr. Shrimpton was even more annoyed than at the outset, so he placed on the screen a large colored lithograph bearing the inscription: "Don't chew the rag."

The conflict escalated.  Fischer employed a photographer to take images of the "offensive ornamentation on the screen" and sent it off to the Factory Inspection Bureau with a third complaint.  The New York Times reported, "Meanwhile the neighbors were awakening to the fact that a lively controversy was on, and eagerly awaited developments, which followed in quick succession."  

Fischer insisted he had no personal feelings against Shrimpton, but would not back down even if it meant going to court.  "On the other hand, Mr. Shrimpton frankly admits that he is out for satisfaction, and that Mr. Fischer can secure peace only by making an apology for going to the authorities instead of first appealing to Mr. Shrimpton's sense of the eternal fitness of things."  The New York Times reported that he had "collected a large assortment of suggestive lithographs," and had placed a sign over the window near the screen that read "Watch this space for new attractions."

The building continued to attract tenants in the apparel and textile industries through mid-century.  M. H. Oppenheimer & Co., cotton converters, was here in the post-World War I years; and after World War II Multitex Corporation, "cotton and linen manufacturers" and "importers and exporters of textiles," operated from the building.

The last quarter of the 20th century, however, saw major change in Tribeca, as lofts became residences and stores were converted to restaurants, galleries, and theaters.  In 1978 the Islene Pinder Balinese American Dance Theater opened in 86-88 Franklin Street.  The New York Times explained on June 11, 1983 that it "draws on the traditions of Bali and modern dance."  

A renovation completed in 2001 resulted in one apartment each on the upper floors.   It was possibly at this time that the pediment atop the cornice was refaced.

Dune opened in the ground floor space.  The New York Times reported on June 28 that year that the store "sells an exclusive line of  furniture and textiles by contemporary designers."  It was replaced in 2012 by Aire Ancient Baths.

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The Campe Building - 85 Franklin Street

In 1860, John Mack began construction of a five-story, marble faced loft and store building at 85 Franklin Street in the neighborhood that was transforming into the new dry goods district.  A manufacturer and wholesale merchant of ruches (the ruffles or pleats used in the making of fine women's apparel), he would use a portion of the new 24-foot-wide building, completed in 1862, for his own firm, while leasing unused space.

Not long after his building was completed, John Mack was appointed a Commissioner of Internal Revenue.  The building now housed not only his ruches business, but his Commissioner's office.  A notice in The New York Times advised that his office was "open daily for the transaction of business from 9 a.m. to 1 pm., noting, "Distillers, Brewers, and Coal Oil Distillers, within the said district, are requested to apply to the Collector for forms and books to be kept by them in accordance with the above law."

In 1863, the Conscription Act was passed, initiating a draft to swell the ranks of Union soldiers.  Potential draftees could avoid the draft by paying a fee or by paying someone to take their place.  On August 23, 1863, an announcement in The New York Times notified drafted soldiers in the Fourth District who "prefer giving the money instead of their services," that they could pay their "$300 commutation fee" at Mack's office here.

Leasing space from Mack in 1866 were Strouse, Rowe & Co., makers and dealers in "clothing and goods for men's wear;" and the recently formed commission firm of Neuss & Hesslein, which moved into the building in February that year.

The Chronical, April 10, 1869 (copyright expired)

E. M. Drake and Jabe O. King organized the linen thread importing firm King & Drake on January 1, 1870, and moved into 85 Franklin Street.  It was not long before King became the victim of a serious accusation.  He was charged by the Society for the Prevention of Gambling with patronizing "Beers' and Chamberlain's gambling houses."  On the stand in court on July 9, King asserted that he was being confused with another merchant, Joseph L. King.  When the latter was confronted, he testified he was being mistaken for Jabe O. King.  It appears that the stand-off resulted in neither man being convicted.

At the turn of the century, the tenants of 85 Franklin Street were linen importers Freund & Foise & Co.; two suspender makers, Berman Bros. and C. S Smith; the neckwear manufacturer Meyer & Faingloss; and C. Onnstein, makers of umbrellas.  

On December 17, 1903, fire broke out in the basement.  The New York Herald reported, "To save adjoining buildings filled with valuable and inflammable merchandise, the firemen ran pipes through adjacent windows.  In the rush of this assault two large windows were smashed above [Battalion Chief Thomas] Larkin and his men and the falling glass cut the scalp of the chief and dazed him for a moment.  It also cut the hands of Fireman James Andrews and George Cunnigham."  The wounded fire fighters were treated at the Hudson Street Hospital.  All of the tenants suffered losses, either by fire or water, and the damage to the building was estimated at $10,000 (about $343,000 in 2023).

A tragic story played out in the summer of 1907.  Shortly after he arrived in New York, a young German immigrant named S. Menmark found work in the leather firm of Eisenstack & Lippschitz.  He started work on July 31.  The next morning he started to cross Broadway at Franklin Street on the way to work just as a trolley headed towards him.  The New York Times reported, "He had time to step from its path, but seemed to be dazed and did not heed the warning shouted by a hundred men and women.  He was killed."

The manager of Eisenstack & Lippschitz, Abe Gilman, went to the Leonard Street Police Station and identified Menmark's body.  He told police, "the boy had only recently arrived in this country and was unused to the busy streets here."

In 1935, 85 Franklin Street was purchased by the Campe Corporation, underwear manufacturers.  The firm hired architect Thomas White Lamb to make overwhelming changes to the building.  The top three floors were lopped off, and the cast iron storefront and marble facade of the second floor removed.  The now two-story structure was given an Art Moderne facade of cast stone, corrugated metal panels, and expanses of glass.

Lamb left no hint of the early Victorian, marble structure in his Art Modern design.  Stylized metal letters spell out CAMPE above the doorway.  image via the NYC Dept. of Records & Information Services.

Campe Corporation moved uptown around 1945.  The following year, on August 26, 1946, The New York Sun reported that the newly-formed National Cancer Foundation had established its headquarters here.  The article said the organization was "designed to press for Government aid in the fight against cancer and to provide a new hospital for those suffering in the last stages of disease and who find it difficult to enter other hospitals."  

Spokesperson Jay Pearlmutter explained the "first major step" of the foundation would be the establishment of Hope Institute, which he described as "a new type of private room hospital for the care of those in the last stages of the disease who at present have no place to turn."

Thomas White Lamb's Art Moderne facade has been seriously abused.

By the mid 1960s, the building was home to Del Electronics Corp.  The 21st century saw Maurice Arlos Fine Art here by 2002, and the florist Elan Flowers in the building in 2015.

Because 85 Franklin Street sits within a historic district, when a second significant change to the now-distressed property was proposed in 2018, the Landmarks Preservation Commission became involved.  The plans submitted by studioMDA  included adding five floors and restoring, while slightly altering, Thomas Lamb's existing 1935 design.

studioMDA's rendering supplies a before and after view.  

When completed, the renovated structure will hold residential units above a ground floor gallery.

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The Thomas J. Lipton Building - 149-151 Franklin Street

 

On March 24, 1888 the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that architect Charles C. Haight was working on plans for a "brick and stone warehouse" for John E. Parsons at 149 and 151 Franklin Street.  The block, between Varick and Hudson Streets, had been a neighborhood of two-and-a-half story Federal style houses in the 1830's.  But times had changed.

The district which a century later would be known as Tribeca had begun transforming shortly after the end of the Civil War.  Modern loft buildings replaced vintage houses.  Parsons, who was a well-known attorney--one of the founders and president of the New York Law Institute--joined the trend.

The 58-foot-wide, six-story Romanesque Revival style structure was completed in 1889.  Haight's design, arranged in four vertical sections, forewent the chunky, undressed blocks and vast arches expected in the style.  Instead, crisp-sided brick piers and rectangular openings resulted in a regimented, geometric pattern.  Romanesque appeared in the arched opening, with its delicate foliate spandrel and entablature carvings, and in the intricate designs of the cast spandrels between floors.

The completed building became home to Fishel & Levy, wholesale liquor merchants.  Operated by Joseph M. Fishel and brothers Morris and Adolph Levy, the firm would remain until around 1908.  

It was joined in the building at the turn of the century by the International Arithmachine Co., which manufactured and sold early adding machines.  An advertisement on April 2, 1900 read:

Agent, quick at figures, to sell the smallest, fastest, cheapest practical computing machine; adds, substracts, multiplies, &c.  Address International Arithmachine Co., 149,151 Franklin st.

At the time of that advertisement, Sir Thomas J. Lipton's tea business operated from The Lipton Building, steps away at the corner of Franklin and Hudson Streets.  But disaster struck in February 1905 when that building was destroyed by fire.  On March 5, the New-York Tribune reported that John E. Parsons had leased 149-151 Franklin to Lipton.

Thomas Lipton had worked in his parents' grocery store in Glasgow, Scotland as a teen.  The enterprising boy saw potential in providing affordable tea to the middle classes.  He was the first to sell tea in tea bags, and to print brewing instructions on the bags.

By now he was a multi-millionaire, had been knighted by Edward VII, and his tea was a household name internationally.  

The urgency to move into 149-151 Franklin Street was such that corners were cut.  The New York Times explained, "When the building was leased by the Lipton Company from Mr. Parsons the owner was to have forty days in which to make repairs.  The tea company was in a hurry to get into the building, and as it was vacant, the landlord permitted it."  Sir Thomas Lipton would rue the decision four years later.

Perhaps the greatest threat to tea is water.  In 1912 a water tank overflowed, ruining a significant amount of product.  Sir Thomas Lipton sued John E. Parsons for damages.  But because he had released Parsons from his obligation to repair any defects, the verdict was disappointing.  The jury in State Supreme Court ruled in Parsons's favor on February 17, 1913.  The New York Times reported, "It is alleged that the Superintendent of the Lipton establishment turned the water on without looking at the pipes, and the defendant asserted that the damages were caused by his negligence."

John E. Parsons died on January 16, 1915.  The following year his son, Herbert, sold 149-151 Franklin Street.  Somewhat surprisingly, Lipton did not purchase the building, choosing instead to continue leasing.  In reporting the sale, the Real Estate Record & Guide commented, "The property is located in the wholesale grocery district and will be benefited by the new Seventh avenue subway now in course of construction, which will pass within 100 feet of the building."

The shortage of male workers during World War I may have contributed to the wording of a help-wanted advertisement on July 1, 1918.  It sought: "Girls.  Salary $8 start.  No experience necessary.  Easy work.  Steady Employment.  Thomas J. Lipton, 149 Franklin St."  The salary would equal about $135 per week today.

But the scarcity of men did not preclude the firm's prejudice in hiring a janitor two months later.  The ad on September 9 specifically sought a "porter (white)."

In August 1919 Thomas J. Lipton, Inc. leased a 12-story building in Hoboken, New Jersey and moved its operation from Manhattan.  The following month it transferred its lease on 149-151 Franklin Street to Berth, Levi & Co., manufacturers of sausage casings.

The building was sold in December 1936 but, as Lipton had done, Berth, Levi & Co. chose to continue leasing.  The firm would remain at the address for years.

The third quarter of the century saw a renaissance within the Tribeca district.  In a New York Times article on January 14, 1994, Angela Taylor reported on Maria Susana Salgado's fur-and-yarn garments, which she made and sold in her loft-studio in 149-151 Franklin Street.  Salgado, who had begun as a sculptor in her native Argentina, came to America in 1967 on a Government grant to study art.  Her custom pieces were pricey.  A jacket cost $1,500--more in the neighborhood of $3,750 today.

A renovation completed in 1993 resulted in a store on the first floor, offices on the second, and loft dwellings on the upper floors.  In April 1995 Wyeth, a vintage furniture shop, opened in the store.  On July 5, 2000, the space became home to Interieurs, a furniture store.  Today, Patron of The New, a men's clothing store occupies the space.

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The 1868 Marble-Faced 114 Franklin Street

photo via streeteasy.com

On April 18, 1868 a notice appeared in The New York Herald that read simply "For Sale--The Valuable Lot, 114 Franklin street."  An old house had stood on the lot for decades and had been operated as a rooming house in the 1850's.  Next door, at No. 112, a new loft and store building had just been completed for Max Weil.  It was designed by architect Samuel A. Warner. 

The empty lot was purchased by Elliot C. Cowdin.  He was simultaneously erecting two buildings at Nos. 96-98 and 100-102 Grand Street designed by Benjamin W. Warner, who shared an office with his architect brother Samuel.  He now gave Warner the commission to design No. 114 Franklin Street.  The resultant building would be identical to No. 112; and although the design clearly came from the drawing board of Samuel A. Warner, Benjamin gets the credit as architect of record.  

Completed in 1868, like its twin No. 114 it rose five-stories and was faced in marble above the cast iron storefront.  A handsome blend of Italianate and French Second Empire styles, it featured segmentally-arched openings flanked by Doric pilasters.  A pronounced still course separated each floor.

Cowdin was a man of broad interests.  The New York Times would later say he "made his name equally familiar in business, politics and commercial and agricultural literature."  He was the principal in Elliot C. Cowdin & Co., importers and dealers of "French fancy goods."  But his business did not move into the new Franklin Street building which he had erected as an investment only.

Among Cowdin's early tenants was Louis Weddigen & Co., dry goods importers and commission merchants.  Customs records reveal that the goods the firm brought into the country included "Italian cloths and worsted dress goods" along with velvet, satin and silk.

Although technically listed as being designed by different architects, No. 114 (left) and No. 112 are identical.

Another dry goods merchant, Mackintosh, Green & Co., was unintentionally involved in a scam which cost citizens thousands in tax dollars.  In 1873 the Department of Charities and Correction forewent the bidding process and granted a contract for dry goods to "a person named Sternback."  Suspicious, the New York Herald launched an investigation.  It discovered that Sternback did not appear in the City Directory, he had no known place of business, and there was no evidence that he was a dry goods merchant.  What was known was that he purchased goods at a discount and sold them to the city at an inflated price.

Among its evidence, the newspaper pointed out that he "purchased of Mackintosh, Green & Co., of No. 114 Franklin street, 9,000 yards of woollen stuff at 35 cents per yard, with 5 per cent off, and sold it to the city at 45 cents per hard, with 5 per cent off, making nearly $1,000 out of the taxpayers by the one transaction."

The building continued to house garment-related merchants, like Oberndorff & Co., here in the 1880's; and Freeman D. Marckwald, an importer of whalebone, "horn strips, polished dress bones and toothbrushes," the following decade.  Whalebone was an important component in the manufacture of corsets.

As had been the case with Mackintosh, Green & Co., in February 1897 Freeman & Marckwald was also involved in a scam and it appears the firm was an innocent pawn.  Ferdinand May was arrested for fraud, having negotiated the sale of $222,310 in bills of exchange to the firm of Weil, Auerbacher & Co.  The bills were drawn on Freeman & Marckwald.

According to The Sun on February 21, May told Weil, Auerbacher & Co. "that his firm had sent Marckwald large consignments of whalebone and that Marckwald had about half a million dollars' worth of the whalebone in storage."  None of that was true.  But May had cashed in the bills before the scam was discovered.

Marckwald was called in to testify.  He "said that there never was any [whalebone] in storage with him," reported the Evening Telegram on March 3.  May was sent off to prison and there was no indication of Marckwald's involvement at all.

And yet, soon afterward Freeman D. Marckwald mysteriously packed his things and sailed for Europe.  A year later Deputy Sheriff Carrahar took control of the business.  The Sun reported on October 2, 1898 "The attachment was obtained on the ground that Mr. Marckwald had been absent from his place of business here for more than a year and was supposed to be in Europe."

In 1886 the firm of Switzer & Schussel was formed to import and manufacturer handles for umbrellas and parasols next door at No. 112.  Then late in 1911 business had grown to the point that Switzer & Schussel continued the manufacturing, while a newly-formed office, Schussel & Manly, handled the import and sales.  Interestingly considering the period, Edward Max Schussel's partner was a female, Gertrude A. Manly.  Their new offices opened in No. 114 Franklin St. 

In its January 1912 issue Luggage and Leather Goods commented that Schussel & Manly would be showing its "large domestic line, consisting of novelties in fancy woods, horn and Ivorine, a very large and attractive line of import handles, unique in styles and prices, during the month of February.  Also a full line of imported umbrella frames, handles, mounts, etc."

But like so many German-based businesses throughout the United States, World War I dealt a crushing blow.  In February 1918 Trunks, Leather Goods and Umbrellas reported "Schussel & Manly, manufacturers and importers of umbrella handles and canes, are retiring from business."  It was not so simple as that.

The anti-German sentiment which swept the country resulted in the Trading With The Enemy Act of 1917.  It gave the Government broad rights to confiscate the properties of German-born businessmen whether or not they were American citizens.

The Alien Custodian Report listed the "enemy interest" in Schussel & Manly Manufacturing Co. at 100 percent.  Edward Max Schussel and Gertrude Manly had not truly retired.  Instead, as reported in the Report of the Alien Property Custodian, "The business was liquidated under enemy trade license."  All assets of Schussel & Manly were confiscated by the Alien Property Custodian.  Max Schussel moved his family back to Germany, as did Gertrude Manly.

While dry goods related firms remained in No. 114 for decades years following the war, a variation in the tenant list began appearing in 1921.  That year Ace Specialties Corp. was listed here.  It dealt in goods like paper goods, like cups, doilies, napkins, as well as "sanitary spoons," tin kitchen utensils, and toilet paper.

The last quarter of the century saw the rediscovery of Tribeca arrive on Franklin Street.  By 1977 the Bromm Gallery was in the building, and in 1999 Grace Bar and Restaurant opened.  It was described by The New York Times food critic Florence Fabricant as "a sleek, Art Deco-inspired place, with tapas-style food at the bar."

As was happening with so many 19th century loft buildings throughout the district, a renovation completed in 2008 resulted in one apartment per floor above the store.  Two years later, in March 2010, Albert Trummer told Florence Fabricant of his plans for the ground floor.  He said his Theater Bar "will be inspired by Vienna and the nightlife of the 1930s and '40s."  The theatrically-themed venue opened in April 2011.

Both No. 114 and its twin sister survive remarkably intact after more than 140 years.

photographs by the author

The Bear Mill Manufacturing Building - 120 Franklin Street

The matching 1901 addition is seen at the left.

Theodore B. Rogers was the nephew of Jacob Rogers, described by the New-York Tribune as "the eccentric millionaire locomotive builder."  In 1881 he commissioned architect Jarvis Morgan Slade to replace the three wooden structures at the northeast corner of Franklin Street and West Broadway with a six-story loft and store building.  

Slade was a likely choice.  On January 29 that year The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide noted that his father, Jarvis Slade, "was a pioneer in this district, and besides acquiring a large interest himself, it was mainly due to his influence that it was so rapidly covered with first-class buildings." The article added that Jarvis Morgan Slade was "well known in the dry goods community."

The building was completed the following year, an edgy industrial take on the neo-Grec style.  Hefty stone piers framed the cast iron elements of the storefronts.  The upper floors were faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone.  Slade had divided the five floors into three sections, defined by brownstone still courses.  Segmental arches and inset rosettes at the fifth floor drew the eye upward, while rough-cut stone bands accentuated the horizontal lines.  A deeply-overhanging bracketed cornice capped the design.

The building filled with dry goods related firms, like importers R. McBrainey and the Artistic Weaving Company.  The latter firm was based in Saxony, Germany where it manufactured apparel labels and ribbons.  It was part of a customs scam uncovered early in 1890 that went to the highest level of the Post Office.

The Postmaster-General, John Wanamaker, shared the same name with the Philadelphia retailer.  On January 29, 1890 The Evening World rhetorically asked "Has 'Honest John Wanamaker'...been "aiding and abetting the 'Trademark' John Wanamaker...in violating the custom laws by conniving at smuggling foreign dry goods through the mails?"  The newspaper said "There are a good many quaking hearts in the Post-Office and the Custom-House, but the employee who gave away the fact that two packages of dress labels bearing the name of the Postmaster-General has been seized as smuggling goods is the most uncomfortable man in the service to-day."

The ribbons, which were to be used as belts for Wanamaker dresss, were from the German Artistic Weaving Company's plant in Germany and were addressed to John Wanamaker in care of Adolph Kluge at the Franklin Street headquarters.  

Had the Postmaster-General been the actual recipient as opposed to a commercial customer, his packages could be sent through the mail like without being subjected to customs; but the attached silk labels clearly contradicted that: "John Wanamaker Costumes, Philadelphia."  

The Evening World said that Kluge who "is evidently of a modest and retiring disposition," appeared to be "very much disturbed over the notoriety into which he had so suddenly sprung on account of his private mail consignment of Mr. Wanamaker's labels."  It appears to have been the end of the German Artistic Weaving Company in New York.  The firm is not listed in the building after the clever scheme was uncovered.

In 1894 a tenant which was decidedly not part of the dry goods industry moved in.  On November 1 The American Enameling Company opened its new showrooms with a splash, auctioning 48,000 pieces of "gray enameled teapots, coffee pots, tea kettles, wash basins, lipped saucepans, dish pans, convex saucepans, Berlin pots, Dresden kettles, &c."

Owner Charles R. Cobbs demolished the abutting tenement at No. 211 West Broadway in 1901 and hired the architectural firm of Schweitzer & Diemer to enlarge his building.  In an early (and unexpected) example of architectural cohesion, the architects perfectly copied Slade's two-decade-old design.  Even the cast iron elements of the storefront were faithfully copied.  The addition melded almost seamlessly with the original structure.

The enlargement may have had to do with the Bernheim & Walter's new lease on the building.   Run by brothers Adolph, Eugene, Charles, the cotton converting firm had been founded by their father.  By now it was described by The Sun as "one of the largest firms of its kind in the city, controlling the Bear Mills Manufacturing Company."  The Bernheims' youngest brother, Otto, was not a partner, but was employed as a clerk.  Nevertheless, according to The Sun, "while not a member of the family firm, [he] had inherited enough money to make himself independent."  The New-York Tribune added "he had a large income and, it is said, a comfortable fortune."

Wealthy young men like Otto quite often lived in upscale bachelor apartments.  In 1904 the 27-year-old moved into the Hotel Sevillia on West 58th Street.   Otto apparently suffered from what today would be diagnosed as clinical depression.  His brothers said "he was of a morose disposition and inclined to fits of prolonged depression."  His mother was abroad in the summer of 1905 had promised to send a cable to him on July 24.  When it did not arrive, he was "very despondent."

The following morning the Otto's barber, Fred Schuppert, arrived at his apartment to shave him.  He found Otto on the floor unconscious with a bullet wound in the head.  The bullet had traveled completely through his head and exited the window.  Bernheimer died within the hour without regaining consciousness.  

His rooms, according to The Sun, contained "the photographs of a number of young women."  One in particular seems to have been a sweetheart.  Several letters on scented, colored stationery were signed "Your ever loving, darling Kitty."

No investigation was launched into the young man's death; although there was one puzzling detail that would raise the eyebrows of forensic detectives today.  The Sun revealed "Although right handed he had apparently shot himself with his left hand, just behind the left temple."  

The Bernheimer brothers reorganized the firm within a year of the disturbing incident.  In 1906 the company was renamed Bear Mill Manufacturing.

The firm experienced a rash of thefts in 1909.  Shipments of raw goods consigned to Bear Mill Manufacturing were disappearing before reaching Franklin Street.   By the beginning of June $50,000 worth of linen had been stolen--a significant $1.42 million today.  Detectives followed up on a hunch by haunting the Hudson River piers where the goods came into the city.

On June 1 a shipment was scheduled to arrive at the New Bedford Steamboat Company pier.  The private investigators watched several young men who were loitering around the pier as a crates were loaded onto delivery wagons.

Sure enough, one of the men approached a clerk and showed him a seemingly authentic order for a case of linen consigned to Bear Mill.  The Sun reported "The clerk delivered to the man a case worth $1,800.  Three others put it on a wagon and drove away."  The four thieves made it only a few blocks before being nabbed.

Bear Mill Manufacturing remained in the building for years.  Charles Bernheim was its president by 1918, when he was elected a trustee of the East River Savings Association as well.

At mid-century the Hood Rubber Products Company occupied the building.   The Massachusetts-based firm was founded in 1896 by Frederic C. and Arthur N. Hood for the manufacture of rubber footwear.  In 1929 it merged with the B. F. Goodrich Company, continuing to manufacture the Hood brand and B. F. Goodrich brand rubber and canvas shoes.

Hood Rubber closed its plants in 1969.  It was not especially long before the transformation of Tribeca as a district of loft homes, trendy restaurants, galleries and shops arrived at the corner of West Broadway and Franklin.  In 1981 the ground floor housed the 211 Bar and Restaurant; and in 1994 the upper floors were converted to a total of ten sprawling residences.

The ground floor saw a succession of tenants.  In 1995 Layla, a restaurant owned by Robert De Niro and Drew Nieporent, opened.  The New York Times said on November 29, "This Middle Eastern fantasy was designed by Christopher Chesnutt with lifelike montages of belly dancers and water-pipe smokers, plus mosaics made of pottery shards."

In 2003 WaterMoon gallery sold Chinese and Tibetan antique furniture, Tibetan carpets, and Chinese porcelains and ceramics from the West Broadway store.  The rare items dated from the Neolithic era to the Ming Dynasty, according to The New York Times journalist Rita Reif on March 10 that year.

Wine bar Vinovino was here in 2009, followed by Centrico, which opened in 2011.   It was not a run-of-the-mill Mexican restaurant, Times food columnist Kris Ensminger noting its menu "includes oxtail enchiladas, tuna tostadas and wild mushroom quesadillas."

The structure remains astoundingly intact after nearly 140 years.  Its addition, almost indistinguishable despite being two decades younger that the main building, is remarkable.

photographs by the author

An 1897 Remake - No. 156 Franklin Street

The cast iron base is all that remains of the original 1874 design.

On April 30, 1874 Isaac Rodman sold the 25-foot wide, three story building at No. 156 Franklin Street to Daniel O Archer.  Archer, who lived in Tarrytown, New York, paid $15,000 for the property, or about $341,000 today.   He already owned the 50-foot wide plot directly behind at Nos. 38 and 40 North Moore Street.  Within the month architect Griffith Thomas filed plans for an "iron and brick store and oil factory."  The  building would engulf both the Franklin and North Moore Street properties.

The district was already filling with apparel and grocery firms, however, and the oil factory would not last in the new building especially long.  In April 1881 Archer hired contractor W. A. & F. E. Conover to build a wall across the rear of No. 156 Franklin Street, separating it from the North Moore Street portion.  

Turle & Skidmore, importers of "table waters," leased No. 156 Franklin Street.  Still here a decade later, an advertisement in June 1892 in the New-York Tribune led off "Hotel Keepers, Cafe Keepers and Restaurant Keepers ATTENTION!"  It asserted that its Manitou brand Table Water and Ginger Champagne "are the favorite beverages with all, and it will be to your advantage and profit to increase your stock NOW."

Shortly after that ad was published J. H. Mohlman & Co. leased both the Franklin Street and North Moore Street sections of the building.  The Evening Post remarked that it was rented as a "double building, of five stories fronting North Moore Street, and a single building of four stories on Franklin Street."

Although the partition wall was left intact, J. H. Mohlman & Co. did extensive renovations to the property for its wholesale grocery business.   The Franklin Street side was used mainly as a warehouse above the storefront.  In the North Moore Street building, the ground floor was used for storing heavy stock like molasses and sugar, with the offices and showrooms on the second floor.  The top floors held canned goods, cereals, hominy, rice, flour and similar items.

The firm had wisely kept the heaviest stock on the first floor.  But a large shipment received the week of April 20, 1895 necessitated weighty barrels and crates being taken upstairs.  It ended horribly.

On April 30 The Evening Post began an article saying "'First a rumble, then a crash, and then fire' is the significant account given by the most trustworthy witnesses of the accident which reduced a well-packed five-story building at Nos. and 40 North Moore Street this morning to a burning mass of debris and groceries.  The building was an old one, but it had been rebuilt for the use of J. H. Mohlman & Co., wholesale grocers, recently."

The beams could not withstand the weigh and had collapsed.   Broken pipes leaked illuminating gas which then ignited.  "The collapse was very compete.  The roof, front and rear wall, and all the floors went down, leaving only the side walls standing," said The Evening Post.  "Fire broke out at once."

No. 156 Franklin Street fared a little better than the North Moore building, which was a total loss.  "Part of the rear wall of No. 156 Franklin Street was broken in, and parts of the floors there, with some of Mohlman & Co.'s stock, were carried down."  Nevertheless, the building was heavily damaged.  "The flames penetrated to the Franklin Street building and poured out through the front window there.  In fact, the loss by fire is the heaviest in that part of the building."

Escaping damage was the building next door at Nos. 152-154 Franklin Street, home of the Eisner & Mendelson Company.  Like Turle & Skidmore the firm imported "foreign manufactured mineral waters and malt extract tonics."  Founded in 1882 as a partnership between Moritz Eisner and Joseph Mendelson, by now Benjamin Bleier had bought out Eisner.  

Eisner & Mendelson Company's handling of the American trade of Johann Hoff's Malt Extract entangled the firm in years of trademark fighting in courts.

Daniel O. Archer sold the damaged Franklin Street building to Benjamin Bleier.  In December 1897 the firm of Stein, Cohen & Roth filed plans to drastically repair and renovate the structure.  Despite that firm's name, there was only one architect, Emery Roth, actually practicing.  His plans called for adding two stories, installing "new steel floor construction" and "alteration in front."  The costs were projected at $25,000, or more than $780,000 today.

When Roth was done only the cast iron base of Griffith Thomas's 1874 structure was recognizable.  Now six stories tall, Roth faced the upper floors in beige brick and made ample use of cast iron in the central section to make vast expanses of windows possible.  In contrast to Thomas's staid storefront, Roth gave the upper floors an ebullient Beaux Arts face.  A projecting bay at the second floor, most likely intended for an office or showroom, was decorated with trailing bell flowers.  Carved ornamentation included lions snarling above garlands of fruits and ribbons, a cartouche with foliate decorations, and two lovely scrolled ornaments upholding the fifth floor cornice which delicate cut into the corners.  The sixth floor was sparsely ornamented under a pressed metal cornice.

Until recent years the name of Eisner & Mendelsohn Company was legible on the panel above the fourth floor.

Almost immediately after moving in, the firm sold the building to Bleier's wife, Josephine.  The New York Times, on June 5, 1898 explained, "The sellers will continue to use the premises under a ten years' lease."  

Eisner & Mendelson Company remained in the building past the turn of the century, continuing to act as agents for manufacturers' sometimes questionable products.  An advertisement in The Scranton Tribune on March 10, 1899, for instance was entitled "Woman's Greatest Enemy" and urged "To cure sick headache by natural means take the Carlsbad Sprudel Salt.  It is a certain remedy for disordered stomach, constipation, etc."

This 1899 ad claimed the Johann Hoff's Malt Extract was "essential for mankind."  The Sun, May 10, 1899 (copyright expired)

An advertisement two years later in The Sun promised that the same product was equally effective for male problems.  "Men who sit down much are usually troubled with indigestion, dyspepsia or ailments that follow--such as kidney complaints, nervous disorders, lazy liver, constipation, etc."  Carlsbad Sprudel Water, it promised, "is a medicine prepared by nature.  It cures."

In 1902 Eisner & Mendelson Company was replaced in the building by H. B. Kirk & Co.  Before it moved in an additional story was added.  An announcement in the New-York Tribune on April 19 read:

This year marks the close of a half century during which we have transacted business on Fulton Street.  After April 21st we will occupy the spacious seven story building, No. 156 Franklin Street, as our present quarters are wholly inadequate for our steadily increasing business.

Headed by Harford B. Kirk, the firm sold a wide range of products, from hard liquor like Old Crow Rye, to expensive imported wines and aperitifs.  

The Sun, June 21, 1903, (copyright expired)

On November 11, 1907 Josephine Bleier sold No. 156 to Ralph L. Spotts who, not coincidentally, was vice-president of H. B. Kirk & Co.    

Spotts was, incidentally, a colorful character.  He was also a partner in the Cantono Electric Tractor Co., but his fame came from his expert marksmanship.  

On November 21, 1910, for instance, The New York Times reported on the shooting matches of the Larchmont Yacht Club.  "Ralph L. Spotts carried off the honors of the day, for he not only won the fist prize of the season as high gun with a score of 119, but he also won the ten and five bird scratch events, and the leg for the Sauer gun.  He also won the 200 target match."

A member of the New York Athletic Club, he was on the 1912 American Olympic trapshooting team.   For years his name appeared in sporting magazines like Field & Stream as he continued to add silver cups and trophies to his collection.
In February 1922 T. J. Van Houten & Zoom leased the entire building.  Its product could not have been more different from those of H. B. Kirk & Co.--powdered cocoa and toffee.

T. J. Van Houten & Zoom handled the American sales of the Dutch-manufactured products.  An advertisement in the Buffalo Evening News on December 21, 1923 said of Van Houten's Dutch Cocoa "Every Sip a Treat!"  It went on to say that its "wonderful toffee" was "the kind Mother would have made if she had only known how!"

The firm did not remain especially long.  In 1925 the building was leased to the Martin Miller Co., manufacturers of bakery ovens and home heating appliances.  The company sub-leased the fourth floor that year to the Wayne Woodworking Co.

A photo for city tax purposes before mid-century shows that the fire escape had already cut through the cornice.  photo via NYC Department of Records & Information Services

It may have been the onslaught of the Great Depression that caused No. 156 to be vacant in January 1930.  It was advertised for lease as having a "low insurance rate."

Throughout the next six decades tenants came and went while the Tribeca neighborhood slowly changed.  The provisions dealers and the "egg and dairy" merchants were pushed out as artists and yuppies discovered the vast loft spaces.  In 1993 No. 156 was converted to residential space with just one loft apartment per floor.

Regrettably the fire escape that zig-zags down the front of the building and maliciously cuts through the first and sixth floor cornices obscures Emery Roth's handsome Beaux Arts factory building.   Despite that despoiling, the building is worth a pause to take in the details--especially those wonderful corner-snipping scrolls at the fifth floor.

photographs by the author