Abortion, Murder and Kindness--347-351 West 44th Street

 

By the last quarter of the 19th century, the Hell's Kitchen district was "one of the most miserable and crime-polluted neighborhoods in this City," according to The New York Times.  On September 18, 1892, a police sergeant told the newspaper, "You were always on the defensive and carried your life in your hand if you made the streets safe for decent people.  If you chose to skulk and let the hoodlums have their own way, you were a good fellow, and never wanted for a cigar or a drink, and I have heard that some officers profited to a greater extent by being discreetly deaf, dumb, and blind."

But certain developers attempted to upgrade the neighborhood by erecting decent tenement buildings.  Five months before The New York Times article, William F. Rorack purchased the old Eagle Brewery property on West 44th Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues.  On February 18, 1892, The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that he would build eight "five-story brown stone flats"--five at 345 to 353 West 44th Street and the three others directly behind them on West 45th Street.

This photograph of the Eagle Brewery complex was taken in 1892, just before William Rorack demolished the buildings.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

The buildings were completed before the year's end.  Faced in brownstone and designed as a blend of R0manesque Revival and Renaissance Revival styles, they were nearly identical--their details varying only in the stone carvers' creativity.  Each entrance was flanked by layered columns, the front panels of which were decorated with elaborate Renaissance Revival carvings.  A single Corinthian capital capped the hybrid columns.

At some point, an Art Deco-style entrance door, in stark contrast to the 19th century architecture, was installed at No. 351.

The second floors were faced in vermiculated, rusticated stone.  The windows at this level were enhanced with bold, carved voussoirs.  The openings of the third and fourth floors were embraced by molded arches, each of the outer examples capped with individual mascarons, or portrait keystones.  The top floor windows were separated by paneled Corinthian piers.

Finely executed mascarons cap the outer windows of the fourth floor.

The buildings filled with working class families, their economic status reflected in position-wanted ads.  On December 4, 1892, for instance, an advertisement in The New York Times read, "Butler--By thoroughly competent, sober, and industrious man in private family; best recommendations from last employer.  Address Galbrun, 347 West 44th St."  

Among Galbrun's neighbors in the building that year was Charles H. Paulding.  The elderly man had an illustrious military background.  A veteran of the War of 1812, his maternal grandfather, Isaac F. Russell, had been aide-de-camp to Major General Morgan Lewis in the Revolutionary War.

A young unmarried woman who found herself pregnant at the time was in serious trouble.  Affluent women often slipped out of town on "pleasure trips" until the birth.  Residents of Hell's Kitchen, on the other hand, did not have that option.

Alice Whitney, who lived at 351 West 44th Street, worked as a stenographer and typist in a downtown lawyer's office.  The Evening World described her as "said to possess remarkable beauty and intelligence."  In January 1893, she sought the services of Dr. Gray-Blinn (who also practiced under the names of Blinn, Gray and Smith).  Two years earlier, in January 1891, he was arrested for performing an abortion.  Out on bail, he and his wife fled to Sweden.  Because the patient recovered, no charges were pressed and Gray-Blinn returned to New York City.

Gray-Blinn botched the abortion on Alice Whitney, leaving her in a precarious condition.  On January 20, the New York Herald reported that the physician "was arrested last Sunday, charged with performing a criminal operation."  He was released on $3,000 bail (about $110,000 in 2026).  The article said, "It is reported that Miss Whitney's condition is steadily improving."

But at a time when infection and internal injuries were less well understood than today, the 22-year-old's condition soon worsened.  On February 7, The Evening World reported that the coroner had been notified that "Miss Alice Whitney was suffering from the results of malpractice at 351 West Forty-fourth street, and would probably die before night."  

The following day, the New-York Tribune reported that Alice had died in her apartment.  The article said she had not revealed the name of "her betrayer" (the man who had impregnated her).  On the same day, The Evening World headlined an article, "Dr. Gray-Blinn Has Fled."

At least three of the residents of the row found a less arduous way of making a living than domestic work or physical labor.  An advertisement in the New York Journal on September 17, 1896 read, "Professor Fred Carlson.  Spiritualist, medium; magnetic treatment; good helper.  351 West 44th st."  Four months later, on January 11, 1897, an advertisement in the same newspaper offered, "New Year well begun by consulting Wanetha; she is the ladies' favorite, 351 West 44th st."  And on October 15, 1899, an ad in the New York Journal and Advertiser read, "Mme. Ross, palmist, seventh daughter; naturally gifted; 25 cents.  347 West 44th st., one flight up, back."

Cora Walters, who had a former husband and two children in Philadelphia, occupied a four-room apartment at 347 West 44th Street as early as 1912.  A waitress, she rented one of her two bedrooms to James Lord and his wife.  The 44-year-old Cora had a drinking problem.  On September 26, 1912, according to The Evening World, she "had been treated for alcoholism."  

Around the same time, Raymond Murphy temporarily moved in.  (It is unclear where he slept, since the apartment had only two bedrooms.)  Now a painter, Murphy had previously been a professional pitcher with the Philadelphia National League.

At around 6:00 on the morning of October 4, 1912, Murphy and Lord told two policemen that they had just found Cora Walters's body in her bedroom.  The officers quickly became suspicious about "the many bruises on the body of the dead woman," as reported by The Evening World.  The Lords explained them, according to The New York Times, by saying that Cora "had been drinking heavily for three weeks, and the bruises were caused by falls."

Coroner Holtzhauser, however, was not so sure.  He told reporters, "The bruises on the body were not more than six hours old and do not look to me as if they could have been caused by fall."  He added that Cora was found on her back with her right hand raised "as if to ward off a blow."  The Brooklyn Daily Eagle noted, "according to the police...several suit cases and the contents, consisting of papers, were found strewn about the room."

Holtzhauser had the Lords and Murphy detained and he ordered an autopsy.  The results were apparently inconclusive and no arrests were made.

Joseph Farrell, who was a laborer, lived at 351 West 44th Street at the time of the incident.  In April 1913, he "was hit with a blackjack," according to the New-York Tribune.  After the incident he started "acting strangely."  Farrell's unusual behavior climaxed on the night of July 11.  At around 6:00, he went on a rampage, "wrecking his own apartment with a sledge hammer," then running through the hallway, smashing the doors of other apartments.  Farrell's next door neighbor, Christopher Bauer, tackled him in the hallway.

The New-York Tribune reported, "Policeman Seiffert found the two struggling, but Farrell wrenched himself free and struck Bauer and Seiffert down, and ran into his apartment and locked the door."  As Seiffert and Bauer broke in the door, they heard a horrific crash.  The article said, "Farrell had jumped through a window without raising the sash."  The frenzied man landed in the rear yard and suffered a fractured skull.

The passing decades did not lessen the problems of residents along the row.  Anita Sobotina and Sophie Pelansky, two members of a Russian ballet troupe, lived at 351 West 44th Street on June 20, 1916 when they were arrested for shoplifting items of silk lingerie in a Broadway store.  

Stephen Moniodes, a busboy in Janssen's Hofbrau restaurant, lived in the building ten years later.  On March 14 1926, he was arrested after he grabbed a carving knife and terrorized a dozen employees in the kitchen, "shouting he would kill everybody present," according to The New York Times.  Several cooks managed to force him into a closet and call the police.  The article said, "He was taken to the psychopathic ward at Bellevue suffering from temporary derangement."

Jack Gentle, who lived in No. 351, worked as a waiter in a restaurant.  Unfortunately for him, it was also a speakeasy.  On February 11, 1927, he was arrested when the basement restaurant was raided by Prohibition agents.  And on March 15, 1935, resident Fred M. Melton was arrested for "stealing government checks" and cashing them.  Secret Service agent Alan G. Straight called him, "one of the cleverest forgers in the country."

Not all the residents of the row were, of course, on the wrong side of the law.  A touching letter arrived at The New York Times's Hundred Neediest Cases Fund on December 15, 1924 from A. Perez, who lived at 349 West 44th Street.  Written in broken English, his note read:

I send.  I have nothing but this money that could save from weekly salary.  My gift will be smallest among the others but best-intentioned.  I have heartbroken for not to any more to cause because I am as poor as they are.

    Yours truly, A. Perez, 349 West Forty-fourth Street.

    Hotel Astor pantryman, this is my job.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

By the turn of the century, 351 West 44th Street was operated as a single room occupancy hotel.  Tenants reported that they paid $150 a week "for small rooms with no kitchens," according to The New York Times.  In 2004, there were several small fires in the building, according to occupants.

Another fire broke out in the fifth-floor room of Lassan Bavo on the night of January 28, 2005.  Bavo told reporters, "I took the bucket I use to wash my socks and started trying to put it out.  Then I just gathered some stuff and ran out the fire escape."

The sprinklers failed to activate and 38-year-old William Tutay, who lived two rooms away from the Bavo's, jumped from a window that opened onto the airshaft.  He landed on a "recessed area level with the basement floor," said The New York Times.  He was dead when fire fighters found him.  The fire chief remarked, "If the sprinklers worked, he would not have had to jump."

The easternmost building was demolished in 1925 and replaced later by a rather startling edifice.

No. 345 West 44th Street was demolished in 1925, and No. 353 was so drastically modernized later that it is nearly unidentifiable as one of the 1892 row.  The passing of time, however, essentially ignored the three middle buildings.  Other than replacement windows and an unexpected Art Deco entrance door at 351 West 44th Street, the exteriors of the historic tenement buildings survive nearly untouched.

many thanks to reader Tony Willging for requesting this post

photographs by the author

George Fred Pelham's 1893 332 West 51st Street

 

In September 1890, real estate operator William Ramsey purchased the three, three-story brick houses at 330 through 334 West 51st Street.  Each of them was 20-feet wide, giving Ramsey a 60-foot wide parcel upon which to build.  He would replace the three structures with two flat buildings.

Ramsey commissioned George Frederick Pelham to design the the structures.  In doing so, he was, perhaps, taking a risk.  The 23-year-old architect had just opened his office that year.  Born in 1867 in Ottawa, Ontario, he was the son of architect George Brown Pelham, who brought his family to New York City in 1875.  George had entered his father's firm as a draftsman.  Ramsey's commission was among the earliest--if not the first--he received.

Construction on the identical, Romanesque Revival-style buildings was completed in 1891.  The first and second floors were faced in brownstone and the upper three in orange brick.  The arched entrance, which sat above a four-step stoop, and the panels below the windows were carved with intricate Romanesque-style carvings.  Above a molded cornice, the second floor was faced in planar stone, its openings framed in undressed brownstone and capped with dramatic, flaring voussoirs.  

The third and fourth floors sat between molded intermediate cornices.  Double-height brick piers between the openings were capped with carved medieval-style capitals.  They were connected by layered stone arches, the single spandrel of which was filled with elaborate foliate carvings.  The arched windows of the top floor wore brownstone voussoirs capped with stone eyebrows.  

Described as "double flats," the buildings had two apartments per floor.  An advertisement for both buildings in April 1893 offered, "Elegantly decorated apartments of 7 rooms and bath, all light; steam heat, &c.; rent $45 and upward."  Given the location on the eastern edge of Hell's Kitchen, the rent was somewhat pricey.  The base rent would translate to $1,625 in 2026.

Among the initial residents of 332 West 51st Street were Dr. William S. McMurdy and his wife, Fannie, who were married in 1890.  Born in 1858, McMurdy was an 1881 graduate of Princeton University and earned his medical degree at the College of Physicians and Surgeons. He started his practice in 1889.

Like almost all doctors, McMurdy was called upon day and night.  On April 13, 1895, The Evening World began an article saying, "A small epidemic of insanity swept over Manhattan Island during last night."  Among the "several cases of a more or less violent nature," was that of John Kane, a driver for Hook and Ladder Truck 21.  Two years earlier, he suffered a head injury while fighting a fire and "since that time he has been acting queerly," explained The Evening World.  In January 1895, his condition became so severe that he was put on sick leave.

At 1:00 on the morning of April 13, Kane told his wife that "he was going out to find the captain of his company and kill him."  Alarmed, Mrs. Kane summoned Dr. McMurdy.  When he arrived, Kane told him that he knew that he was insane, but could not stop his murderous impulses.  "He asked, for the safety of his wife and child, that he be taken to a hospital," reported The Evening World.  Kane was taken by ambulance to Roosevelt Hospital and later removed to Bellevue Hospital.

Mrs. E. Lambert, who lived here as early as 1898, was the guardian of her 19-year-old nephew, George Austin.  He left their apartment on August 23 and did not come home.  Five days later Mrs. Lambert was frantic.  The New York Herald reported, "She said she had made a round of all the hospitals of the city and had caused an alarm to be sent out by the police, but has received no tidings of the missing youth."  It is unclear whether Austin was ever found.

The unmarried Marie Quinn was pulled into a bizarre incident involving one of New York City's wealthiest bachelors, Robert Goelet, in November 1903.  Eleanor Anderson, who lived next door at 330 West 51st Street, asked Marie to go to St. Patrick's Cathedral and "vouch for her character" to Father Lavelle.  Marie did so.  (Eleanor was a telegraph operator, the daughter of a Sixth Avenue restaurant owner, and the sister of "the champion oyster opener of Sixth avenue," as described by the New York Herald.)

On November 3, Robert Goelet left his Newport mansion to travel to New York City, "wondering who had put into circulation a story published yesterday afternoon that he had married a Miss Eleanor Anderson of 330 West Fifty-first street," reported the New York Herald.  Goelet told reporters, "I have not the pleasure of the lady's acquaintance.  I never even heard of her existence until the newspaper story of my marriage to her appeared."  Additionally, said the Episcopalian millionaire, "Only once in my life have I been in the Cathedral, and then I only went to look at the place."

Marie Quinn could not help in the mystery.  She told a reporter that Eleanor had not told her the groom's name.  Father Lavelle was equally unhelpful, saying, "Miss Anderson's matrimonial arrangements...were none of the public's business."  What was certain, however, is that Robert Goelet was not Eleanor Anderson's new husband.

Although the residents of 332 West 51st Street were middle class, they were affluent enough to afford domestic help.  Albert Hartog and his wife employed a maid, Mable Lewis, in 1905.  On September 5, the New York Herald reported, "she disappeared after she had been at work a few days, taking a watch and pin worth $240."  (The value of the items would equal more than $8,800 today.)

As it turned out, this was not Mabel's first offense.  Young women often practiced what police called the "service game," taking domestic jobs just to steal valuables.  "When police looked up the woman's record they found that her picture is in the rogues' gallery and that she has served time for similar thefts," reported the New York Herald.

On September 3, Hartog was walking along Eighth Avenue when he saw Mable at 54th Street.  The New York Herald reported that he, "took her by the back of the neck and marched her to the West Forty-seventh street station, where she confessed."  The pin was recovered, but the watch had apparently been pawned. 

Albert Wilcox and his wife lived here in November 1934, when they had a young houseguest, Private John G. McFadden, a soldier stationed at the Military Academy at West Point.  Among McFadden's extracurricular duties was the "custodianship of the mule that is the Army mascot."  The soldier was on his way to Pennsylvania where the Army-Navy football game was scheduled to be played on December 1 at Franklin Field.  (The New York Times explained, "When the Army team plays out of town...the regular mascot stays at home and a substitute is hired at the place where the game is played.)

McFadden had met the Wilcoxes on a previous visit to New York City.  When he arrived at the train station, they were there to meet him and took him to their apartment for a night's rest.  The visit ended up very badly.

When he awoke, McFadden realized his watch was gone.  He accused Albert Wilcox of theft and had him arrested.  Wilcox denied stealing the watch, but was held without bail on a grand larceny charge.  The New York Times reported on December 3, that McFadden, "missed the Army-Navy football game on Saturday and lost his watch as well."  Private McFadden grumbled, "I wish I had stayed with my mule."

Another resident, elevator operator Al Jenkins, found himself behind bars two years later.  He and his union members were on strike in 1936.  Just before noon on March 4, he and another striker went to the 20th floor of 135 West 26th Street to confront two strikebreakers.  Concealed under their coats  were "heavy axe-handles," as described by The New York Times.  Jenkins and James Caffrey were arrested for felonious assault.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Charles Schwartz occupied an apartment here in 1944.  He and Floyd Markowitz operated a shady business in the vacant storefront of 254 West 49th Street.  Detectives told reporters "they had been watching the store for some time, after learning that illegal liquor was being distributed somewhere in the neighborhood."  On March 3, the Police Commissioner's "confidential squad" raided the space.  The New York Times reported that they "seized fourteen cases of what they declared was bootleg whisky, with counterfeit labels and revenue stamps."  Schwartz and Markowitz were arrested, charged with "possessing untaxed liquors."

By mid-century, 332 West 51st Street was being operated as a furnished rooming house run by Mrs. Frank Davis.  Among her tenants in 1951 was 28-year-old Tillie Goldstein.  Patrons of the Radio City Music Hall in the summer of 1951 might have encountered Tillie carrying a container labeled "Give for Mt. Ebenezer Baptist Church."  On June 4, The New York Times said she had been arrested for "soliciting without a permit."  Tillie admitted she had collected "maybe $300 or $400" for the church.  The Rev. Lafayette W. Rogers, rector of Mt. Ebenezer Baptist Church, said she had donated $8.

Also living at 332 West 51st Street at the time was a celebrity of sorts, Alvin A. Kelly, known nationwide as Shipwreck Kelly.  Born on May 13, 1893 and a World War I Navy veteran, he became famous as "the redoubtable flagpole sitter and stuntman in the Roaring Twenties," as described by The New York Times.  The newspaper recalled:

His greatest feat was his stay on top of a flagpole on the Steel Pier at Atlantic City for 1,177 hours, or more than forty-nine days, in the summer of 1930.  The vogue for flagpole-sitting and goldfish-swallowing dwindled about that time, and it is believed that the record still stands.

Alvin A. "Shipwreck" Kelly as he appeared in 1939.  Associated Press, October 12, 1952

Mrs. Frank Davis told reporters that Shipwreck Kelly "suffered from an asthmatic heart and hardening of the arteries."  At 7:00 on the night of October 11, 1952, he fell onto the sidewalk "a few doors from the furnished flat at 332 West Fifty-first Street where he had been living alone on home relief," reported The New York Times.  He died on the scene, "with a scrapbook full of old newspaper clippings under his arm," said the article.

In the early 2000s, the cornice was missing.  image via google streetview.

Several residents of the rooming house continued to be on the wrong side of the law.  On December 2, 1960, Eric Larson was arrested for attempting "to extort $3,000 from James Muro, a Corona, Queens tow-truck operator," as described by The New York Times.  And in August 1966, 21-year-old Lanny Arbucci was arrested for selling "pep pills and capsules."  Charged with what was perhaps the most disturbing crime was resident Carlos Antrades.  The 33-year-old was arrested in August 1986 with promoting the prostitution of boys as young as 14 years old.

By the early 2000s, the building and its next door twin were seriously neglected.  On December 17, 2014, Manhattan Community Board Four reported complaints of "vermin infestation, lack of building services, non-working bathrooms and sporadic hot water."  Lantern Group purchased both properties for conversion to single-room-occupancy units.  

A full-gut renovation resulted in one-person apartments "available to single persons," according to 6sqft on August 23, 2017.  The article noted the building offered, "24-hour security, an on-site resident manager, community room, backyard, laundry room, and on-site social services for low-income or formerly homeless households with special needs."  Including in the renovation was the reproduction of the lost cornice.

photographs by the author

The 1853 David Read House - 343 West 47th Street

 

Prior to 2023, the altered mansion appeared like this.  image via loopnet.com

Born in 1830, Henry Astor was the youngest son of William Backhouse and Margaret Armstrong Astor.  He incurred the wrath of his family at the age of 20 when he married Malvina Dinehart--the daughter of a farmer and gardener who lived near the Astor family's summer residence at Red Hook, New York and who had done gardening on the estate.

Henry and Malvina moved to West Copake, New York.  Most New Yorkers assumed that his disobedience resulted in his ruin.  Decades later The New York Times remarked, "It was thought for years that he was a pauper, disinherited for marrying the gardener's daughter."  Instead, he and his wife lived well on "the rents from property in the heart of New York City, valued at many millions."  It was held in trust, however, and Henry was kept at arm's length from his holdings.  The newspaper added, "The trust established for Henry Astor was recommitted in 1869 to his brothers, John Jacob Astor and William Astor."

Among Henry Astor's holdings was a 25-f00t-wide, four-story Italianate style residence at 223 West 47th Street (renumbered 343 in 1863.)  The arched entrance above a short stoop sat off-center.  It was flanked by carved foliate brackets that upheld an arched pediment.  Beside the stoop was a narrow horsewalk, or passageway, that tunneled through the structure and accessed the rear yard.  In the rear was a three-story wooden building.

Astor's first tenants in the house appear to have been the families of Thomas Allen, a carpenter, and William Murfit, a carman, here in 1853.  Almost assuredly, Allen used the rear building for his carpentry business. 

At the time, David Read and his family lived at 107 West 29th Street.  Like Thomas Allen, he was a carpenter.  He specialized in the making of sashes and blinds.  In 1856, he signed a lease on the West 47th Street property, moving his family into the house and his business into the rear building.

Read was apparently highly successful.  While most families with substantial homes like this one took in at least one boarder or roomer, the Reads lived alone.  It suggests that the family was comfortably affluent.  Additionally, the social columns noted the Reads' arrival at Newport each season.

After leasing the house for two decades, on January 17, 1874 the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that "John Jacob Astor, Jr., William, and Henry Astor" had sold 343 West 47th Street to David Read.  

The Reads' daughter, Emma, was a young woman in 1876 and taught girls in Grammar School No. 17 on West 47th Street near Ninth Avenue.  She still held that position in 1879 when her parents sold 343 West 47th Street to Charlotte A. Morris for $15,000 (about $487,000 in 2026).

While David Read continued to operate his business from the rear building (apparently renting it), his former refined home was now operated as a boarding house.  The tenants, nevertheless, were middle-class.  Among them in 1880 were Henry Upton, a real estate agent; Henry Sherman, who listed his profession as "superintendent;" and John Green, who did not list a title, suggesting he was retired.

Among the boarders in 1890 were Charles N. Moulton, who worked as a driver for the Mutual Benefit Ice Company; and Louis Curtis, an auctioneer.  On June 1, Moulton left New York "rather suddenly," according to the New York Herald, for East Charleston, Vermont, where he became a contractor.  Before leaving, he handed his bank book from the New York Savings Bank on 14th Street to Curtis for safe keeping.  

The following year, Moulton became engaged and the wedding was set for the first week of October 1891.  The ceremony would have to be postponed, however.  Moulton wrote to Curtis, asking for the $160 in his bank account.  The New York Herald reported, "This money Curtis drew out, but failed to send any of it to the owner."  The two faced off in court on October 13, 1891.  Moulton was awarded $110 of the original $160.  Curtis was allowed to keep $50 "for expenses" involved in "undertaking business for the plaintiff."

The block was on the border of the more degraded areas of Hell's Kitchen.  In 1893 the Fifth Avenue Baptist Church purchased 343 West 47th Street for its newly-formed mission called The Armitage House.  On April 8, The Christian Union reported that it "is being prepared for mission work of a very practical kind.  We are informed that on the first floor there will be a Sunday-school and general assembly room, on the second floor a kindergarten, and on the third floor a day-nursery."  The article noted, "The locality in which this mission is situated swarms with children, and the need is great."

The Armitage House was an early product of the Settlement House movement.  Reformers hoped that by providing slum children a safe place to play, by teaching impoverished women about nutrition and health, and by giving them skills to earn a living, their miserable lives could be improved.  The day nurseries and kindergartens provided women freedom to work during the day and add to their families' incomes.

On March 31, 1894, the Board of Aldermen approved "two additional lamps in front of the Armitage Mission Church."  The Directory of Social Agencies in 1895 described it as "a centre of philanthropic endeavor" and explained:

It includes a Day Nursery and Kindergarten, Sewing-School, Cooking-School, Reading-Room, a Company of the Boys' Brigade, Branch of the Penny Provident Fund, and a course of Lectures for the people, etc.

A reception by the patronesses (who had society names like Rockefeller, Gould and Flagler) on November 19, 1895 reflected the need and the work that was being done here.  The New-York Tribune reported, "during the last year they have taken care of 4,489 little children and enrolled in the kindergarten 215."

The mission's report two years later reflected a staggering jump in numbers.  In 1896 The Armitage House nursery tended to 6,000 "healthy children under 7 years of age, whose parents are at work away from home during the day."  A larger facility was necessary.

John D. Rockefeller, Sr. donated half of the blockfront on Tenth Avenue at West 50th Street for a new mission house and chapel.  The complex was completed in 1901 and in July 1902 the Fifth Avenue Baptist Church sold 343 West 47th Street to John E. and Annie Dordan. 

Dordan was a builder, having started his career in 1882.  He was now president of John T. Brady & Co., contractors.  Dordan was also highly involved in Tammany politics and in 1905 ran for leadership of the Fifteenth Assembly District.  

A banner promoting John E. Dordan stretches across West 44th Street in 1905. from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

The Dordans had at least one son.  Well-to-do, they maintained a summer home in Pelham, New York, and in 1910 John would register his new Pierce-Arrow automobile.  Nevertheless, they initially leased the lower portion of the house to the New York School of Industrial Art.  

They, additionally, took in one renter at a time.  Living here in 1904 was 24-year-old William Smith, a chauffeur.  On the afternoon of May 11, he took his friend, William Thaw, on a joy ride.  (Thaw was the son of Pittsburgh millionaire Harry Kendall Thaw who would murder Stanford White two years later.)  The New York Times reported that Smith, while "driving a big forty-horse power automobile," alarmed pedestrians in midtown "by dashing up and down the street for several blocks either way at top speed."  Smith was jailed for reckless driving.  "A young man with him was not held," said that article.

The Dordans continued to take in a roomer.  In 1912 it was John Eberhardt, a truck driver for the Kelly Springfield Tire Company; and the following year, R. Voelckel, a theatrical manager, was here.

Annie Dordan died in the house on January 3, 1916.  Her funeral was held in St. Malachy's church on West 49th Street.  John E. Dordan remained in the house for years.  

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Involvement in Tammany Hall often involved interaction with shady dealings and characters.  On December 20, 1922, Richard R. Manden was arrested for running a "place for gambling" on West 44th Street near Broadway, according to The New York Times.  The article said, "John E. Dordan of 343 West Forty-seventh Street appeared promptly to pledge a $35,000 house as security for the bond and Manden was released at once."

Two years later, in April 1924, a grand jury investigated "charges of graft in the letting of Nassau County bridge and road contracts."  The jury's investigation ground to a halt when important witnesses and the "books of construction companies" went missing.  The New York Times reported on April 22, "John E. Dordan, President of John T. Brady & Co., of New York, which had the contract for the $1,000,000 Long Beach bridge has been sought in vain for the last four weeks."  Also missing was the firm's bookkeeper, Anna Fitzgerald.  (Anna's mother told investigators that she "had gone South.")

The article said, "John E. Dordan was not at his home at 343 West Forty-seventh Street last night.  His son, J. J. Dordan, said he had gone to Philadelphia for the day and would return to New York today."  When told that process servers had been unable to find his father, Dordan said flippantly, "I guess they haven't been looking very hard.  He's in his office every day."

Dordan sold 343 West 47th Street in 1928.  Architect Philip Bardes converted it to accommodate "one family and furnished rooms."  The configuration lasted until 1989 when a renovation resulted in one apartment per floor.

After the property was sold for back taxes in 2014, Melamed Architect filed plans for a partial demolition and renovation.  The renderings, released the following year, obliterates any historic fabric.  

image via Melamed Architect PC

In 2026, partial demolition was underway for a six-story, six unit residential building.  In reporting on the plans on October 7, 2015, Nikolai Fedak of New York YIMBY scoffed, "the existing building at 343 West 47th Street was nothing to write home about."  (I didn't get that memo.)

The 1874 Bloomingdale Turnverein - 341 West 47th Street

 

photograph by Carole Teller

Substantial German immigration into New York City began in the 1830s and continued to grow.  In the 1850s, around 800,000 Germans arrived, and while many dispersed to rural areas like Pennsylvania or Ohio, thousands settled in Manhattan's Lower East Side, creating Kleindeutschland, or Little Germany.  A smaller group, however, established a community further north in Hell's Kitchen, just below Bloomingdale Square.

In 1850, a group of German men organized the Bloomingdale Turnverein, or Bloomingdale Gymnastics Club.  They established the club in a vintage building at 341 West 47th Street.  In addition to being an athletic venue, the Bloomingdale Turnverein was (perhaps more importantly) a social club.  It routinely hosted outings and picnics in the summer months, and receptions and balls in the winter.

On June 28, 1869, the New-York Tribune reported that the gymnasium at 341 West 47th Street had been deemed unsafe, noting "Bloomingdale Turnverein, owner."  Apparently, adequate repairs were made to the structure, but two years later, on September 20, 1871, The New York Times reported, "The Bloomingdale Turnverein has recently established a boys' Turn school, and contemplates the erection of a new Turn hall."  (A Turn school-and-hall was a place where German youths could learn and play sports, similar to The Y today.)

The old structure was demolished and a four-story-and-basement, brick-faced edifice erected.  Looking much more like a rowhouse than a clubhouse, its transitional design straddled the Greek Revival and Italianate styles.  Above the stoop, Doric pilasters flanked the arched entrance and upheld an entablature and molded cornice that hailed visitors in German.

The openings originally wore molded lintels, and miniature brackets upheld the sills.  The fascia of the foliate-bracketed cornice announced "BL. Turnverein" and a parapet reflected the date of the ground-breaking: 1873.

In 1940, the window details had been shaved off, but most of the 1874 elements survived.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In January 1873, as construction progressed, the Bloomingdale Turnverein released its annual report.  Although having only 150 members, its capital was $12,000, or about three-quarters of a million in 2026 dollars.  "The Turn school, established by the society, is attended by 175 boys and 38 girls," reported the New-York Tribune.

The building was designed to generate rental income, as well.  In addition to the Bloomingdale Turnverein's clubrooms and gymnasium, the structure held several meeting rooms.  They would be rented by a variety of organizations over the coming years--political, social and ethnic groups, for instance--that used them as their clubrooms on specific weeknights, or for one-time meetings.

On March 29, 1874, an advertisement in the New York Dispatch offered:

To Let--An Elegantly Furnished Lodge-Room (with parlors attached), in the New Hall of the Bloomingdale Turnverein, No. 341 West Forty-seventh street.  Inspection invited.

The halls immediately became popular.  On February 25, 1876, for instance, the New-York Tribune reported, "The XVIIth Assembly District Republican Association held their regular monthly meeting last evening at No. 341 West Forty-seventh-st."  A resolution that night reflected the substantial German presence in the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood.  It said in part:

It would be wise to admit the President of the German Republican Central Committee, and the Chairman of the German Republican Central Committee, as ex-officio members of the Central Committee of the Regular Republican Association.

And on June 29, 1884, the New York Dispatch announced that the Masonic Park Lodge No. 516 "meets first and third Tuesdays, at Turn Hall, No. 341 West Forty-seventh st."

A major holiday for German immigrants was Pfingst-Montag, or Whit Monday.  On May 22, 1877, the New-York Tribune reported, "The celebration of Pfingster began Saturday at noon, when all German workmen stopped work and prepared to take part in the religious observance of Sunday.  Monday and Tuesday are given entirely to holiday amusements, such as picnics, parades, festivals, balls, and athletic exhibitions."  The article said, "The Bloomingdale Turnverein paraded through the streets in the upper part of the city in the morning, and then enjoyed a picnic at Lion Park."

The annual Pfingst-Montag celebrations were always covered by the press.  Five years later, on May 30, 1882, the New-York Tribune reported on the festivities held at Jones's Woods.  "There were athletic contests and exhibitions of all kinds by members of the New-York and the Bloomingdale Turn-Vereins," said the article.  "A band of wind instruments played continually while the games and contests were going on, and in the dancing pavilion an orchestra furnished music to the crowds of young people who danced all the afternoon and until late at night."

Rooms for socials like this one by the Victoria Coterie were rented on a one-time basis.  The New York Globe, January 27, 1883 (copyright expired)

On November 29, 1887, the New York Herald announced that the West 47th Street building had "become inadequate" for the Bloomingdale Turnverein, "owing to the increase in members and scholars."  The club had raised funds to obtain a "larger and more suitable building."  

Another German organization, the New York Central Schuetzen Corps (or shooting club), took over 341 West 47th Street.  The group embarked on a major trip in the spring of 1890.  Forest and Stream reported on May 22, "The New York Central Schuetzen Corps, which will start for the great international shooting festival on June 3, held a farewell meeting and banquet at its rooms, 341 West Forty-seventh street, on the evening of May 14."  That international event was being held in Berlin.  "Their departure will be celebrated by a big all-day German picnic in Hoboken," said the article.

Like the Turnverein, the Schuetzen Corps leased lodge rooms.  Among those renting space in the early 1890s were the Ornamental Plasters' and Shop Hands' Society, the Colored Republican Club, and the West Side Athletic Club.  The latter group held "a stag" on November 11, 1893.  The event included boxing, including "a special bout of six rounds between Harry Martin and Jack Russell."

The changing demographics of Hell's Kitchen was reflected in Irish groups taking space here in the early years of the 20th century.  The New York Philo-Celtic Society began leasing space beginning around 1906.  That year, on April 24, The New York Times reported that it "will produce, in Gaelic...'An Posadh' at the Lexington Avenue Opera House."  The play (the English title of which is The Marriage) "shows the Irish people in their everyday life," said the article.

The date of the ground breaking and "BL. TURNVEREIN" were announced atop the building. via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Society's staging of the play in Gaelic was notable.  Determined that Irish roots and culture were not diluted in their new country, it held language classes here.  On October 30, 1909, The Gaelic American reported, "The classes for the study of Irish, which are under very competent teachers, will be held all during the winter on Sundays from 3 to 6 P.M. and on Thursdays from 8 to 10 P.M. at 341 West Forty-seventh street."

Also renting a lodge room at the time were the County Mayo Men's Association and the Irish Counties Athletic Union.  There was a bit of scandal within the former in the spring of 1907.  The group had held a ball the previous St. Patrick's Day.  A review of the books showed that $300 of ticket sales, which were received by the secretary, John T. McIntyre, was not accounted for.  Now, treasurer Peter J. Delaney, discovered that McIntire had collected $30 in dues from members, but never turned it in.  (The total embezzlement would equal nearly $11,500 in 2026 terms.)  On April 9, 1907, McIntire was arrested and jailed.

When Theodore Stucky purchased the building, he renamed it Unity Hall.  While groups continued to lease space as their clubrooms, Stucky gradually wooed theatrical concerns as the nearby Times Square increasingly became the center of Manhattan's theater district.

Stucky suggested that lodge rooms could be used as rehearsal halls.  Masonic Standard, June 3, 1916 (copyright expired)

While Irish groups continued to gather here (in 1919, for instance, The Loyal Orange Order of Protestantism held its meetings here), increasingly theatrical groups rented space.

On June 14, 1919, for instance, The Moving Picture World reported, "The Film Social Club, the membership of which is made up of the operating forces of the various film exchanges, gave its first dance and vaudeville entertainment at Unity Hall, 341 West Forty-seventh street, New York on Thursday evening, May 29."  

Meetings held here two months later were more serious.  Actors nationwide went on strike.  On August 19, 1919, a meeting of the Actors Equity Association was held here that "may result in the mediation of the actors' strike," said the New York Herald.  

Theodore William Stucky was described by the New York Herald as being "identified with the activities of the French colony in this city for many years."  The newspaper said he "owned considerable property on the West Side, among his holdings being Unity Hall...the scene of rehearsals for many big Broadway productions."

Stucky was not merely taking advantage of the building's proximity to the entertainment district, he was fully entrenched in the theater.  He organized the Cercle d'Art Francaise (French Art Circle) and was a major financial supporter of the Operetta Francaise.  (The New York Herald clarified, "Mr. Stucky, despite his associations here, was not a Frenchman.  He was born in Switzerland.")  

In the fall of 1920, Cercle d'Art Francaise produced the opera La Mascotte.  The 16-member cast played in New England and in Washington D.C., but when they opened in Worcester, Massachusetts, it failed and the entire cast and crew were stranded.

Resultantly, Stucky was greatly concerned about finances.  A bachelor, he lived on Riverside Drive, but his office and that of the Cercle d'Art Francaise were at 341 West 47th Street.  The building's superintendent, Frederick Carter, and his family lived in an apartment, most likely in the basement.  On February 5, 1921, Stucky saw Carter's five-year-old daughter in the hallway.  The New York Times reported, "Mr. Stucky picked up the child and, after kissing her several times, began to weep.  'My darling,' he said to the child, 'I am glad you haven't the worries I have.'"

He had told Carter that he had been threatened by creditors and "feared for his life."  At around 4:00 on the afternoon of February 5, Catherine Valo noticed a man pacing back and forth near a bench on which she was sitting at the foot of the Queensboro Bridge.  Shortly afterward, she saw the man climb the railing and jump.

Valo ran to a policeman.  At the point when the man jumped, he found a coat containing "several papers," according to The New York Times.  One was a card printed, "Theodore W. Stucky" on the front.  On the other side, in French, was written, "My Dear Friends: I am sick and am going to end my life."

Irish groups continued to rent spaces in Unity Hall.  An announcement in The Advocate on October 25, 1924 read: "Reception and Dance of the Cork, Kerry and Limerick Boys at Unity Hall, 341 West 47th St., near 9th Ave.  Every Saturday Night.  American and Irish dancing."  And nearly three decades later, on May 30, 1953, the newspaper reported on the "largely attended meeting of the Cork Ladies in the Irish Counties Athletic Union Hall, 341 West 47th St."

In 1942, the Theatre Showcase opened here in one of the former lodge rooms that had previously been converted to a wedding chapel.  On March 20, 1942, Saroyan's one-act play Across the Board on Tomorrow Morning opened.  Four months later, on July 14, The Goldfish Bowl premiered.

In the late 1960s, composer Harvey Schmidt and his partner and lyricist Tom Jones converted the Theatre Showcase to Portfolio Studio.  Schmidt and Jones, best known perhaps for The Fantasticks, were also the creators of musicals like I Do, I Do; 110 in the Shade; and Celebration.  On June 7, 1970, The New York Times said, "they have set up their own theater, Elizabethan stage, dressing rooms and offices."

On December 6, 1974, the newspaper reported that Schmidt and Jones "will present 'Portfolio Revue,' the first of their four original musicals making the team's workshop theater, a converted brownstone, a public showcase."  Four months later, on April 10, 1975, the newspaper announced, "The new Tom Jones-Harvey Schmidt musical, 'Philemon,' reopens tonight...for a six-week run at the team's Portfolio Studio."

Portfolio Studio made way for The 47th Street Playhouse the following year.  On July 15, 1976, In Dublin's Fair City, a revue, opened in the remodeled venue.

The end of theatrical performances here came in 1982 when the building was purchased and emptied in anticipation of conversion to residential purposes.  At the time, police were dealing with a rash of pipe bombings.  In 1981, there were 12 non-terrorist and 11 terrorists explosions.  The next spring, on May 13, 1982, The New York Times reported, "So far this year, the police said, there have been six bomb explosions attributed to 'non-terrorist' actions and six explosions attributed to terrorist groups."  One of the most recent was "in a vacant building at 341 West 47th Street," said the article.

photograph by Carole Teller

The renovation was completed in 1985, resulting in two condominium apartments per floor.  All remnants of the Bloomingdale Turnverein were erased, including the parapet and frieze, and the German inscription above the doorway.

many thanks to artist Carole Teller for suggesting this post