The Lost Miner's Eighth Avenue Theatre - 312 Eighth Avenue

 

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society 

Henry C. Miner had one of the most varied resumes of his day.  After graduating from the American Institute School he became a pharmacist.  The New-York Tribune would say of him, “He grew tired of the drug business and studied medicine under his brother, Dr. Edward Miner.”  When the Civil War broke out he enlisted as a pharmacist in the Mechanics and Artisans’ Regiment.

A string of careers followed the war: a stint as manager for magician and bird trainer Signor Blitz; manager of the Thayer & Noyes Circus; secretary of the Crystal Palace in 1868; and a policeman stationed at the Mercer Street Stationhouse.  (The last profession was Miner's lease favorite.  “This was even more unpleasant than being a drug clerk and Mr. Miner decided to get into something else,” said the New-York Tribune.)  He then turned to theater management, building and operating a series of theaters including the London Theatre in the Bowery, the Fifth Avenue Theatre, and Miner’s Bowery Theatre.

On May 7, 1881, The Real Estate Record reported, "A new variety theatre, capable of seating 3,000 persons, is soon to be built on the west side of Eighth avenue, between Twenty-fifth and Twenty-sixth streets.  It will be T shaped, and be known as Harry [sic] Miner's Eighth Avenue Theatre.  Thomas Canary is connected with Mr. Miner."

The partners, in fact, did not erect a new building, but substantially renovated the existing structure.  Architect William Graul filed plans a month later that included modifications like new girders and posts, roof, and "interior alterations, front repaired, new iron cornice."   It was a significant savings, the total project costing the equivalent of $65,300 by today's standards.

Miner's Eighth Avenue Theatre building included a café, entered south of the main entrance.  Graul reserved most of the ornamentation for the ground floor, where stained glass fan lights lined up below signage, also in stained glass, that read "Vaudeville" and "Burlesque."  A half-circle, cast metal pediment directly above the entrance announced the theater's name.  The three stories of cream-colored brick above were sparsely adorned with classical cast iron garlands and a wreath-enclosed cartouche with Miner's initial.  The openings were embellished with ancient Roman style lattice work.

The seating capacity upon completion was slightly smaller  than originally anticipated, at 2,300.  Opened on November 21, 1881, Miner's Eighth Avenue was, indeed, a variety house.  Patrons would enjoy a diversity of entertainments including boxing contests, minstrel shows, political rallies and debates, burlesque shows and vaudeville.  King's Handbook of New York put it succinctly, saying that it "furnishes variety entertainment for the West Side of the City."

Thomas Canary and Henry Miner went their separate ways in July 1893 with Miner buying out Canary's portion.  The Sun reported, "Mr. Miner is having improvements made to the theatre in the way of decorating and is also having a complete electric plant put in."

The wide mix of programs was evidenced on October 30, 1894 when The Evening World reported that champion middle-weight boxer had appeared the previous evening.  "He gave exhibitions of his fistic skill with Ike Williams."  The bout was followed by vaudeville skits.  "The specialty company included the Fitzgibbons family, Joe Hardman, John R. Harty, Miss Nellie Franklyn, Gordon and Lick, Barron and Forrest, the Tremonts, William E. Whittle, and Hawley and Doyle."

Vaudeville theaters too often attracted rowdy patrons, one of whom a month earlier, had provided more excitement in the balcony than was presented on the stage.  Robert Jones, described by The Evening World as "a six-foot youth of twenty," bought a ticket for the matinee on September 25.  The newspaper said, "He had more liquor aboard than was good for him."

Jones took his seat in the front row of the balcony, and just as the curtain rose, he jumped to his feet and "fired a volley of oaths at the stage and shouted that he could lick any man in the house."  Special Officer Carroll, one of the New York Police Department's "theatre force," tried to take control of Jones.  As the two struggled at the railing high above the orchestra pit, Jones tried to wrestle his opponent over the railing.

"The women in the balcony had fled to the rear, while the occupants of the orchestra chairs had risen en masse and rushed into the aisle to escape the expected downpour of arms and legs that were seen wildly flying in the upper regions," said the article.  Twice Jones managed to get one of Carroll's legs over the railing, but two audience members helped pull him back.  In the meantime, Carroll had managed to land a "dazing blow on Jones's nose," causing blood to pour forth that added to the excitement," according to the writer.

Finally, "With much cursing and howling on the part of the captive, Jones was got outdoors by Policemen Riley and Carroll."  He was sent to prison for ten days.

Among the political meetings held here that same year was a Tammany Hall rally on November 4, 1894.  The New-York Tribune did not disguise its contempt for the group, saying "John A. Grow, a renegade Republican, presided, and an ill-smelling mob of blear-eyed, besotted thugs, tramps, toughs and vagabonds, whose Democratic enthusiasm had been wrought up to a high pitch by a liberal distribution of free rum, howled and shouted for Hill and other candidates on the Democratic and Tammany tickets."

The Evening World reported on a typical evening's fare on November 6, 1894.  "Robert Manchester's French Folly Company supplied the entertainment at Miner's Eighth Avenue Theatre, yesterday...The after-piece, entitled 'The King's Daughter,' caused much laughter."

A broadside, or announcement, of the acts presented the week of February 5, 1894 (copyright expired)

A notable incident took place on stage on September 10, 1896.  The Colored Sports, an all-Black song and dance troupe, was performing that week.  The New York Times reported, "David Barton, a mulatto comedian, and Edith Hughes, a singer and dancer and an exceedingly pretty octoroon, were married last night, with great theatrical effect, on the stage of Miner's Eighth Avenue Theatre."

The theater was crowded with an audience eager to witness the marriage of two performers.  "The event had been well advertised, and the 'cream of society' of Thompson Street, Seventh Avenue, and other centres of the colored population was well represented," said the article.

After "a long variety bill," the stage manager stepped on stage and announced that "just before the cakewalk, a marriage between two members of the company would take place."  Then, led by the "champion cake walkers, Mr. and Mrs. George Weston," fifteen couples in evening dress processed onto the stage and formed an aisle.

Edith Hughes was the daughter of Elizabeth Taylor Greenfield, known internationally as the Black Swan.  "Then down the centre of the stage marched the bride, leaning upon the arm of the bridegroom.  She was clad in white silk, with a long train, and her head was covered with a long, white veil."

After rings were exchanged and David Barton "implanted a kiss upon her lips," the show went on.  The New York Times reported, "the cakewalk then proceeded.  Of course, the bridal couple carried off the honors, according to the judgment of the spectators...There was a wedding banquet on the stage after the theatre had been closed."

On New Year's Eve 1901, the Merry Maidens burlesque troupe closed the night.  Shortly afterward, disaster struck.  The following morning the New-York Tribune reported, "the audience had been out of the building only about fifteen minutes when the fire started.  It was caused by a lighted cigarette which one of the chorus girls dropped while smoking in a dressing room on the Twenty-sixth-st. side of the building."

The fire spread rapidly, causing the chorus girls and other employees to flee into the street in panic.  "Many of the girls were only half clad when they reached the street," said the New-York Tribune.  "They wept hysterically."  The thousands of people celebrating New Year's Eve in the neighborhood soon crowded around the burning building.  The Sun reported, "At 3 A. M. only the walls remained and the front wall, facing Eighth avenue, was in danger of falling.  Men were summoned from the Building Department to shore it up."

By now Henry Miner's sons operated the theater.  Just two days after the blaze, Edward Miner told reporters "the theater would be rebuilt at once."  Architect George M. McCabe was hired to renovate the burned out shell.  He encountered problems with the Department of Buildings when his plans called for repairing a building that predated the current fire laws.  The Department of Buildings rejected his plans, saying that "the reparation necessary to restore it to its original condition is equivalent to the 'erection' of a theatre."  An agreement was finally reached, and McCabe's altered plans went forward.

The restored structure gave little hint of the inferno that had gutted it.  photograph by Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The remodeled theater opened in 1903.  In April that year the fireman who had been detailed to the building on December 31, 1901 was found guilty for not enforcing the theater fire laws.  Fire Commissioner Sturgis found that he should have prevented the chorus girls from smoking in the theater and, especially, discarding their still-smoldering cigarettes.

On September 1, 1917 the Estate of Henry C. Miner leased the building to the Criterion Theatre Company for a term of five years.  The Real Estate Record & Guide commented, "The theatre will be used for motion pictures."

Now a movie theater, by the end of World War I the building had been renamed the Chelsea Motion Picture Theatre.  On April 26, 1925, The New York Times entitled an article, "Famous Old Theatre Swept By Flames," and reported that a porter had discovered smoke coming from a dressing room and turned in an alarm.  When firefighters arrived, the blaze had spread from the rear of the building, and "flames were sweeping across the balcony which surrounded the centre part of the building and leaping toward the gallery."  Interestingly Fire Chief Joseph B. Martin had also responded to the 1901 fire.  The New York Times reported that most of the seats in the balcony and gallery were destroyed, and "The dressing room in which the fire started was burned out."

image via cinematreasures.org

As had been the case a quarter of a century earlier, the damage was repaired and the theater reopened.  It survived another quarter century.  Demolition permits were issued in 1959 and the venerable building was razed in 1960.

image via compass.com

The Chelsea Park apartment building, completed in 2013, occupies the site today.

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An Improbable Site for Music History --The 1908 Thomas Lynch Stable - 9-11 Weehawken Street

photograph by the author

In 1797 the Georgian-style Newgate Prison was opened by the State of New York at the foot of Christopher Street.  Following its closure in 1829 the site developed as a market and collection of small buildings related to the riverfront trade.  The one-block long Weehawken Street was opened and paved in 1834, named for the the new Weehawken Market which sold goods brought from New Jersey.  In 1845 Littles, Nash, Beadleston & Co. founded a brewery at Nos. 3-5 Weehawken Street, and later one of its founders, Henry Beadleston, erected two brick tenements steps away at Nos. 9 and 11.

The Beadlestone family retained ownership of the tenements until April of 1905.  The purchaser was Thomas Lynch, a "truckman," who ran a delivery operation at No. 25 West Broadway.   Lynch's father had begun the business just after the end of the Civil War.  Lynch took his time in developing the site, and it was not until 1908 that the tenement buildings were demolished and construction was started on a stable building.

Architect George M. McCabe designed the brick-faced, Romanesque Revival structure.  The rusticated base was dominated by side-by-side arched truck bays.  They were flanked by two pedestrian entrances--one to the commercial space and the other to the third-floor living space.  The segmentally arched openings of the upper stories wore brick eyebrows and were splashed with rock-faced limestone trim.  Above the top floor was a triangular parapet with brick corbels.

The ground floor housed the Thos. Lynch delivery vehicles, while horses were stabled in the second floor (according to the Board of Appeals).  Thomas and Ellen L. Lynch moved into the spacious third floor apartment.  The riverfront location no doubt made a perfect location for the company, with ships being loaded and unloaded along the docks.

Lynch was apparently aggressive and ambitious.  An announcement in The Pottery, Glass & Brass Salesman on July 29, 1915 read:

I desire to announce to my friends in the trade that for the convenience of those who are located uptown, I have opened an office at 3 and 5 West 28th Street...This will be maintained in connection with my other offices at 25 West Broadway and 9 and 11 Weehawken Street.

Respectfully,

Thomas Lynch, Truckman

The bustling building saw horse-drawn drays coming and going for more than a decade until motorized trucks had essentially taken over the industry.  In 1921 Lynch began a renovation, completed in 1922, which resulted in a garage (capable of holding 50 vehicles according to building documents) on the ground floor and storage space on the second.  In a solid business move Lynch leased the property the to the Thos. Lynch Garage, Inc. upon the completion of the renovations.  

The Fire Commissioner ruled in June 1923 that "the living quarters shall be restricted to the use and occupancy by the owner of the premises."  It was a clause that would have long-lasting ramifications.  If any of the new owners after the Lynches did not live there, the third floor was to remain vacant.

The Lynches remained in the building until Thomas Lynch's death in 1935, and title to the property was transferred to their son, Thomas F. Lynch.  In 1941 Rose and Ralph Kantor purchased the building, operating the Weehawken Garage until 1944.  After two more rapid turnovers, Joseph Oelhaf and his wife, Anna, purchased the building in 1947 starting an amazing chapter in its history.

A gasoline sign hangs from the facade in 1941.  via NYC Dept of Records and Information Services

Born in Switzerland and reared in Germany, Oelhaf was a partner in Meier & Oelhof, a marine repair firm around the corner on Christopher Street.  It was one of the last survivors of the old-time marine operations in the neighborhood.  Oelhaf made alterations to accommodate a four-truck garage on the first floor and a machine shop on the second.  He and his wife moved into the third floor apartment.

Perhaps unexpected in an owner of a boat repair company, Joseph Oelhaf was a life-long devotee of organ music.  Sophie Miller, writing in The Kingston Daily Freeman, said that "as a boy he used to cycle as often as he could to the Weingarten monastery near Friedrichshafen to hear the organ he considered the finest in the world."

In March 1934, just over a decade before the Oelhaf's moved onto Weehawken Street, a Wurlitzer pipe organ with an Art Deco cabinet had been installed in the famous Rainbow Room restaurant 65 stories above Rockefeller Center.  It was played every night between the orchestra sets by well-known musicians like Dick Leibert, Ray Bohr and Ann Leaf.

via NYC Dept of Records and Information Services

But in 1954 the posh restaurant installed an air conditioning unit which elbowed out the instrument.  Radio City Music Hall organist Dick Liebert negotiated the sale of the organ, which was purchased by Joseph Oelhaf and installed in the Weehawken Street apartment.   The Oelhafs contracted Louise Ferrara, the senior curator of the Radio City Music Hall organ (and later Ronald Bishop, who succeeded the position) to maintain the 1,400 pipe, three-manual console.

The fall 1956 issue of Tibia magazine published an article by organist E. J. Quinby entitled "Greatest Night in Organ History."  The American Guild of Organists convention that summer was held in New York  City.  Among the famous musicians attending were Virgil Fox, E. Power Biggs, Charlotte Gardens, Alexander Schreiner and a host of others.

On the evening of June 24 a group of organ enthusiasts, having heard Virgil Fox at the Riverside Church organ, wandered downtown and entered the Paramount Theatre where Ray Bohr was playing.  The unintentional concert resulted in a more than enthusiastic reaction.  "The audience was not content with mere applause--they stood up, they stomped, they hollered, they whistled."  Then, one-by-one, eminent organists took the the instrument until 4:00 a.m. when the manager of the Paramount Theater told the group they really had to go now.

Quinby wrote "But this was not the end of that memorable night.  Joe and Anna Oelhaf...invited a few of us to join them...This, it appears, was overheard by many and sundry in the immediate vicinity and it resulted in a mass taxi pilgrimage.  When Joe unlocked the door to his premises, it looked as though half the Paramount audience had accepted the invitation."

The mass of organists and organ enthusiasts crowded into the Oelhaf apartment.  While Ray Bohr performed, the Oelhafs served refreshments.  And then it got better.  Joseph Oelhaf was a collector of musical instruments and brought out several for inspection.  Quinby wrote "Amongst those present it developed that there was a violinist, an oboist, a flutist, a pianist, and a performer on the French horn to augment the organ, and an impromptu musical carnival progressed until dawn when coffee and Danish pastries were served by the dazed host and hostess."

When the Oelhafs had left their Weehawken Street apartment the previous evening simply to enjoy a concert, they had no idea that one of the most memorable episodes in recent musical history would take place in their own home.

On January 23, 1962 Sophie Miller wrote "Now [Oelhaf's] home is the mecca or port of call for the greatest organists in the world.  Every couple of months he holds a musicale for the elect and can sit back and listen to the finest musicians play his beloved Bach and Handel music."

The Oelhaf family retained possession of the building until 1984 when it was purchased by William Gottlieb.  (When they left, so did the organ.)  By 1997 GLC Productions was operating from the former marine repair space.  Denis Hamill, writing in the New York Daily News on April 13 that year called it "an impressive, self-contained, independence production company...that specializes in 3-D animation, visual editing and sound design."  The firm remained at the address at least through 2017.

photo by Beyond My Ken

The Lynch stables building has suffered little change, other than replacement windows, in its more than 120-year existence.  The few passersby on the quiet block-long street gave little notice to the structure which once made accidental musical history.

The Double 1906 Stable at 157-159 West 18th Street

Looking like a late 19th century factory building today; the structure was actually a high-rise livery stables.

West 18th Street, between Sixth and Seventh Avenues, was mostly lined with two-story stables by the late 1860's.  Bradley's livery stable at No. 157 was the scene of devastation and horror in October 1877.

Two of James F. Bradley's drivers, Thomas Stapleton and Owen Healey, both single, lived on the second floor.   On the night of October 16 they awoke to discover the building was on fire.  They scrambled to save the horses; but the intense heat prevented them from getting to those in the rear stable.  Thinking they still had time, both men rushed back to the loft, Healey to retrieve his military uniform and Stapleton to grab some personal items.  The burning building collapsed. 

The following day Bradley told police that the men were missing but, according to The New York Times, "they refused to give it any credence, and denounced it as a 'ghost story.'"  But when the men did not appear "their usual haunts" within a day, a search was made in the ruins.  On October 19 the newspaper gruesomely reported "Yesterday the mangled and burned bodies of the missing men were dug out."

Bradley rebuilt the two-story structure, putting the title in the name of his wife, Alice.  They retained ownership of the replacement stable until 1896 when it was sold to Albert Baer.  In 1906 William F. Donelley purchased the property and seems to have become a silent partner with Linda Stachelberg, who owned the similar stable next door at No. 159.

The neighborhood had significantly changed by now; Sixth Avenue was lined with massive retail emporiums and Seventh Avenue was seeing the rise of commercial buildings.  On May 6, 1906 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that architect George M. McCabe had filed plans for Linda Stachelberg to replace Nos. 157 and 159 with a four-story stable building.

But before long Linda Stachelberg increased her vision.  Revised plans called for two additional stories.  The brick and stone stable would cost just under $1.7 million today.

McCabe designed the 40-foot wide structure in mirror image.  His melding of Renaissance Revival and Romanesque Revival created a handsome front to a decidedly utilitarian building.  Rough-cut stone arches spanned the twin carriage bays and undressed stone bands created interest to the ground floor.  The five stories of red brick above were trimmed in undressed stone and decorated with panels of protruding brick.  Brick quoins ran up the sides.

If male businessmen at the turn of the century dismissed the ability of women to handle themselves professionally, they had never met Linda Stachelberg.   She included a deadline in the contractors' contracts--November 15, 1906.  When she was informed by Caspar Buellesbach, who was to install the iron columns, that he would not make the deadline, she declared the contract forfeited and refused to pay.  It all ended in a court battle the following year.

The completed building was leased to the James M. O'Dea.  He operated it not only as a "first class boarding and livery stable," but as home base for this delivery service.

The National Provisioner, January 13, 1912 (copyright expired)

Another female operator at the time was Linda S. Rau.  She owned several properties in the city, including another stable down the block at No. 128 West 18th Street.  In 1912 she purchased Nos. 157-159 from Stachelberg and Donnelley.

Horse-drawn drays and private carriages passed through the wide bay--then with double wooden doors--in 1906. 

By the following year O'Dea's customers were not only housing their horses and carriages here, but their automobiles.  Albert Pavis worked for O'Dea in 1913.  The upstanding 19-year-old prevented a robbery on the night of June 17 that year.

A chauffeur picked up his employer's limousine that evening, but when he pulled onto 18th Street, he was surrounded by a gang of hoodlums.  Pavis called for help.  According to The New York Times the gang "had halted the car in the street and was about to rob its occupants when several policemen from the West Seventeenth Street station came in response to Pavis's calls.  The robbery was frustrated but the gang escaped."

That thugs, unfortunately for Pavis, realized who was responsible for the failed heist.  Three nights later as Pavis was about to enter the building, "he was held up near its door by a gang of several toughs, one of whom held a revolver to his face, while another blackjacked him," according to The Times.  The beating resulted in a broken nose and wrist.

In March 1914 Linda Rau leased Nos. 157-159 to John P. Quirk "to be used as a garage," according to the Record & Guide.  By the time she sold the property to yet another female operator, Anna R. King, in November 1921, it was home to the Chelsea Garage, run by Isidore Miller and Abraham Solter.

The building continued to operate as a garage for decades.  Owned by the Mablin Holding Corporation in the early Depression years, it was home to the Fismar Garage until the spring of 1932.  

By the early 1970's Midtown Electrical Supply Company took over the building.  It was the scene of a frightening incident on November 8, 1973 when a freight elevator cable snapped with six workers inside.  Luckily the elevator fell only one story--from the second to the ground floor.  Although all six men were injured, their injuries were described as "not serious."

In 1991 a seventh floor was added.  While it cannot be described as an architectural masterpiece, care was taken to match the brick.  Decades after moving in, Midtown Electrical Supply Company remains in the building.  Although somewhat abused, the 1906 stable is a reminder of a century of changes to the neighborhood and of three women who held their own within an industry run by men.

photographs by the author