An Elegant Sore Thumb - No. 24 Water Street

By the first years of the 18th century the Fighting Cocks tavern operated at No. 24 Water Street--the street so named because the river bank was so close the road flooded at high tide.  Seamen and shopkeepers would drink ale here for decades before the building burned in 1776.

A commercial building replaced the tavern, and in 1844 Thomas Eaton operated his business here.  Patrick Austin helped himself to $50 in bills that summer, landing him in court.  The jury found him guilty on September 17 and he was sentenced to two years in the State Prison.

By 1862 Stephen D. Herrick and John Wakeman ran their produce business from No. 28 Water Street.  Their business was apparently successful enough that in 1862 Herrick began construction of a modern, cast iron-fronted building two doors away at No. 24.  Completed the following year, it had nothing in common with its brick-faced neighbors, most constructed in the 1820s and '30s.  It wore its refined neo-Classical elements--swags and wreaths, and paneled pilasters, for instance--like a tuxedo among the work clothes of longshoremen.

It appears Herrick constructed the building for investment purposes.  As late as 1870 Herrick & Wakeman was still listed at No. 28 Water Street.  It would house firms related to the shipping or grocer industry for decades; with one possible exception of The New-York Hollowware Company which called No. 24 home in the 1890s.

That firm narrowly skirted financial disaster when Paul Brigham was arrested on January 10, 1896.  The Indianapolis Journal reported that Brigham, "alias George Watson, alias Charles J. Bartlett, alias David Coleman, alias 'the General,'" was "one of the oldest and most notorious swindlers in the United States."

Brigham's modus operandi was to approach a successful firm and express interest in investing $50,000.  The con man relied on his victims' greed--his offer would equal about $1.46 million today--to blind them to his intentions.  And because, as the Journal pointed out, "he was well dressed, had plenty of money, and presented excellent letters of recommendation," he seemed to be on the level.  But his slick talking eventually ended with his making off with money, rather than giving up any of his own.

He simultaneously worked his scheme late in 1895 on four New York City companies--the carpet and rug firm of White & Spate, jewelers Theodore Kohn & Son, the legal firm of Hadley, Lauterbach & Johnson, and the New-York Hollowware Company.  He had already collected "considerable sums" from some of his victims when one of the principals of White & Spate became suspicious and caused prompted the investigation which brought Brigham down.

In 1913 the building was owned by James O'Donnell.  He leased it that year to The Aspell Co., wholesale grocers and ship chandlers.  Headed by J. Whalen Aspell and Louis E. Field, it would remain for several years.

Five years earlier a rather remarkable restoration of the building behind No. 24 had taken place.  American interest in historic sites was almost entirely limited to battlefields or, in some cases, the homes of important military or political figures--like Mount Vernon.   But in 1894 Fraunces Tavern, caught the attention of the Daughters of the American Revolution.

George Washington had made his farewell address to his troops in the building, and it was that connection that sparked interest.  By the turn of the century the Sons of the Revolution had joined the effort to restore and preserve the property, which was dedicated with great fanfare on December 4, 1907.

But the Sons of the Revolution were not done yet.  Not only did the group announce that it intended "to undertake the preservation of the place" in 1920, it had already begun accumulating surrounding property to prevent incongruous development.   The Sons of the Revolution had already purchased the building at Broad and Pearl Streets.  On February 14 the New-York Tribune reported that the group intended "to acquire additional property adjacent to Fraunces' Tavern" and "have made a contract for the acquisition of 24 Water Street for $45,000."

The new ownership brought no immediate effect.  The building continued to be leased to various waterfront companies.  In 1922 the Irish-American Line moved its new passenger offices in; and in 1926 ship chandlers James W. Cunningham & Co. was here.

The Depression years saw a change in the tenant list.   Although Turret Products Co. sold marine-related items--like the "Ship's Speaker" offered in 1930 ("a distinctly nautical radio loud speaker in polished brass" that "combines quality and charm"); Savoy Distilleries opened a liquor store in 1933, while Art Studio Warehouse had space upstairs--a decidedly seedy operation.

Joseph Smith, his brother Vincent, and Maxim Montgomery ran the Art Studio Warehouse, along with the Treat 'Em Right Publishing Company nearby at No. 2 Stone Street.  Their operation drew the attention of the Society for the Prevention of Vice and the New York Police Department in the spring of 1934.

The three were arrested and "two tons of alleged obscene literature were seized with 400 copper plates" in a raid on the two locations on April 9.  The New York Times reported "The confiscated matter consisted of 4,600 books selling form $5 to $25" and that the trio was charged with vending obscene literature.  Two days later the men were held on $500 bail awaiting their court date.

Mostly because of the foresight of the Sons of the Revolution, the block defined by Water Street, Pearl Street, Broad Street and Coenties Slip escaped further development.  And when the Uris Corporation began illegal demolition of five properties in 1974 for a parking lot, the Sons of the Revolution partnered with the New York Landmarks Conservancy to take the first steps in the creation of the full-block Fraunces Tavern Historic District.

A missing capital at street level (above) received a cast iron reproduction in 2015 as part of the restoration.  photo via Frances Tavern Museum

No. 24 Water Street is now the Porterhouse Restaurant, part of the Fraunces Tavern Museum complex.  In 2015 the Sons of the Revolution undertook a restoration of the deteriorating cast iron facade.  Rather than cut corners by reproducing lost or damaged elements in fiberglass, contractor JEPOL Construction commissioned Catskills Castings to create molds from surviving details and make new cast iron elements.

The restored structure, with its gleaming coat of white paint, is once again just a little haughtier that its red and brown brick neighbors.

photographs by the author

The 1719 Fraunces Tavern -- 54 Pearl Street

In 1904, George Washington Glintenkamp was born in a room above a barroom on the corner of Pearl and Broad Streets.  The boy’s father was a German immigrant who, along with Mr. Precht, operated the tavern and rented the rooms upstairs.

The little rooms were mostly home to longshoremen who had lived here for years.  Patsy McGovern, who worked as a longshoreman on the East River for the Pennsylvania Railroad, had lived here for 36 years–the only home he had ever known in America.  But little George Washington Glitenkamp and Patsey McGovern were about to lose their homes.

The saloon run by Glitenkamp and Precht was Fraunces Tavern, an unrecognizable survivor from Colonial times that had recently caught the attention of the Sons of the Revolution.  The building had been the site of George Washington’s farewell speech to his troops and was now being considered for restoration as a museum.

Stephan Delancey was one of New York’s most influential and wealthy citizens in the early 18^th century.  Born in France as Etienne Delancy, the Huguenot fled his homeland under persecution by the French Catholics, landing in New York in 1686 and almost immediately changing his name to Stephen.

When Ann Van Cortlandt married Stephen Delancey, the couple received the land on Pearl Street from her father -- NYPL Collection

A year after Delancey married Ann Van Cortlandt in 1699, her father gave the couple the land at 54 Pearl Street as a wedding gift.  The lot was irregularly shaped and the Minutes of the Common Council of New York on April 14, 1719 noted, “Mr. de Lancey applies for a small strip of land to make his lot more regular in shape, as he is now going to build a large brick house, etc.”

Later that summer, Delancy began construction of the large, elegant home.  The Delancey’s would have ten children in the house, only five of whom would survive infancy.  By 1730, the family was living in a new house on Broadway and their Pearl Street home was being used for public purposes.

In 1737, dancing master Henry Holt advertised a ball to be given “in Mr. de Lancey’s house.”  In 1739, for two shillings admission, one could enjoy pantomime entertainments given in “Holt’s Long Room.”

Stephen Delancey died in 1741 and James Delancey inherited the house.  He would become Chief Justice, Lieutenant Governor and Acting Governor of New York.  Sometime around 1750 it became home to Colonel Beverly Robinson and doubled as the warehouse for merchant firm Delancey Robinson & Co.  Here in 1756 George Washington stayed as Robinson's guest before returning to the Indian Wars.

Two years after James died in 1760  the Delancey family sold 54 Pearl Street at auction.  Samuel Fraunces, a Frenchman born in the West Indies, purchased it for 2000 pounds, signing the deed on January 15, 1762.  Fraunces converted the house into the “Queen Charlotte,” or the “Queen’s Head Tavern.”  Shortly after purchasing the building, Samuel Fraunces would become notable as steward to General George Washington. 

One of the most popular meeting spots in Colonial New York, there were meeting rooms and sleeping rooms on the upper floors.  A document by Samuel Fraunces, dated 1776, described the building at the time of the signing of the Declaration of Independence as he attempted to sell it.  “The Queen’s Head Tavern is three stories high, with a tile and lead roof, has fourteen fireplaces, a most  excellent large kitchen, fine dry cellars, with good and convenient offices, etc.”

The tavern was gaining importance in the revolutionary cause.  In March 1764, an assembly was called “at the Queen’s Head Tavern” for those merchants who were united against the recent governmental action.  And it was here in 1768 that the New York State Chamber of Commerce was founded and continued to meet until it secured a room of its own in February 1769.

On August 23, 1775, the tavern wall was penetrated by a shot from the British warship Asia.  A year later, with the British occupying New York on September 21, 1776, a fire broke out in the Fighting Cocks Tavern near Whitehall Slip.  Before morning nearly 25 percent of the city was in ruins.  Samuel Fraunces’ tavern, however, escaped destruction.    

In the dark cellar below the tavern, four brick cells were outfitted with iron chains for the detention of prisoners.  

With the end of the war, Governor Clinton hosted a series of glittering receptions in honor of the commander-in-chief in what was now called Fraunces Tavern.  Here, on December 4, 1783, Washington assembled the officers of the Continental Army in the “long room” upstairs and bid them an emotional farewell.  It was a scene dramatically recreated by William Makepeace Thackeray in his 1859 novel The Virginians.

The new government, based in New York, leased the tavern for offices of the Departments of War, the Treasury and Foreign Affairs.  Later, as the capitol moved to Philadelphia in 1790 the building reverted to a tavern.

A devastating fire nearly destroyed the building in 1854.  The roof was burned through and on the Pearl Street side the walls fell outward, just above the second story.  The building was reconstructed and enlarged as a contemporary Victorian structure, adding two floors and erasing any noticeable architectural evidence of its early 18^th century origins.

After the 1854 fire, two stories were added and the historic structure looked much like any other mid-Victorian building - NYPL Collection

It was the Daughters of the American Revolution who first noticed Fraunces Tavern.  In 1894, headed by Mrs. Fay Peirce, the group took tea in the “Long Room.”

Later, a member would note in the Daughters of the American Revolution Magazine, “So great, in fact, was the interest and enthusiasm excited, that it was believed a Chapter committee would at once be appointed and charged with the duty of taking steps for the rescue of the ancient and famous hostelry from its present deplorable uses as a cheap tavern and ‘long shoreman’ restaurant and saloon.’”

The group did not actually move on the project until 1897, writing to Mayor Hewitt with an exhaustively long list of suggestions.  Included in their want-list were that the entire block on which the tavern stood be purchased with public money, that the building be moved to the opposite corner of the block and restored, that the rest of the block be planted as a park, that two uniformed soldiers mount guard there (in Colonial uniforms), that the Long Room be outfitted with portraits of Washington and other officers, that the rest of the building be made into a museum, and twenty-five cents admission be charged, and that an equestrian statue of Washington be erected where the tavern was standing.

Hewitt responded that the land alone would cost the City over $2 million and that such an enormous project, called Patriots Park, would not be covered by the Small Park Law of the City.  But, he promised, he would think about it.

Prior to the 1907 restoration the 18th Century structure was totally hidden -- Library of Congress

On March 20, 1900, Maurice F. Holahan, as President of the Board of Public Improvement of the City of New York, wrote to the Assembly of the State of New York, pleading for assistance.  He wrote of the “realization of the lamentable fact that the ‘march of improvement’ on Manhattan island has swept away almost every object personally identified with ‘the Father of His Country.'”  Fraunces Tavern, he implored, must be salvaged.

The New York Times, in a July 12, 1901 editorial, cautioned about asking for too much and getting nothing.  “The ladies who have carried the scheme thus far are entitled to the thanks of all of us,” it said.  “We trust however, that they will not endanger their cause by asking for too much from the city.” The New York Times did agree, however, that the tavern should be restored and “enough ground about it to be converted into a Colonial garden.”

In the meantime, there were the longshoremen and the “cheap tavern” to contend with.  The Times admitted, “In the case of many of the longshoremen the changing of the structure into a museum will be literally turning them into the streets, their long years of residence in Fraunces’s Tavern having rendered them almost incapable of considering any other lodging as habitable.”

At a meeting of the tenants, ironically held in the Long Room, Patsy McGovern was vehement.  He reckoned that George Washington “would have never turned a decent man out of his home to make a ‘museum’ of a good, respectable hotel.”

When referring to the Sons of the American Revolution during the meeting, Glintenkam called them “Blisters.”  In explaining himself, he said, “I call them Blisters because everything they see seems to stick to them after they have gone away.”

Despite the protests, Fraunces Tavern was purchased by the City and restorations by architect William H. Mercereau began in 1907.  As the top two stories were removed, the original roof line could be plainly seen and the original bricks were identified by the mortar–the colonial mortar contained a great deal of oyster shells while that from the 19^th century was of lime and sand.  Mercereau matched missing bricks by using 18th century bricks from buildings in Maryland, or importing them from Holland, where the original bricks had been made.

On December 4, 1907, 124 years to the day after Washington bade his troops farewell here, the restored Fraunces Tavern was dedicated.

The building, in 1926, looks nearly exactly as it does today -- author's collection

Fraunces Tavern quietly continued throughout the 20^th century until January 24, 1975 when Puerto Rican nationalists detonated an explosive device in the 19^th century annex, killing four people and injuring at least 44 others.

Today the remarkable relic stands in the busy Financial District, looking much as it did with Samuel Fraunces purchased it in 1762–a rare and important piece of American and New York City history.