The Richard Grant White House - 118 East 10th Street

 

In 1861, Richard Grant White moved his family into the newly built house at 186 Tenth Street (renumbered 118 East 10th Street in 1867).  It sat upon a triangular parcel of land purchased by Matthias Banta from the Stuyvesant family in 1854.  Banta's architect (most historians attribute the homes to James Renwick, Jr.) had to deal with the irregular plots, resulting in the five-story-and-basement houses ranging from 16- to 32-feet-wide and from 16- to 48-feet deep.  The Anglo-Italianate-style homes were completed in 1861, the year the Whites purchased their new residence.

Like its neighbors, the rusticated brownstone basement and first floor of the White house sat below four stories of red brick trimmed in sandstone.  The tall, fully-arched windows of the second floor were connected by a stone bandcourse.  Each of the architrave frames of the upper openings were treated slightly differently.

Born in 1822, Richard Grant White was a globally recognized Shakespearean scholar.  He traced his American ancestry to John White, a founder of Cambridge, Massachusetts and of Hartford, Connecticut.  Although he studied medicine and law (he was admitted to the bar in 1845), by the time he purchased the Tenth Street house, he was the musical critic for The Courier and Enquirer, and had already published his 1854 Shakespeare's Scholar and the 1859 Essay on the Authorship of the Three Parts of Henry VI.  He would be described by the 1901 New York University; Its History, Influence, Equipment and Characteristics as, "one of the foremost literary and musical critics of his date."

Richard Grant White, from the 1901 New York University; Its History, Influence, Equipment and Characteristics (copyright expired)

Grant was married to Alexina Black Mease on October 16, 1850.  The couple had two sons, Richard Mansfield, born in 1851 and named after Grant's father; and Stanford, born in 1853.

The parlor of the East 10th Street house was most likely the scene of lively artistic discussions.  Among Richard G. White's acquaintances were Louis Comfort Tiffany, Frederick Law Olmsted, and John LaFarge.  It may have been those gatherings that sparked young Stanford White's interest in architecture.

The outbreak of the Civil War affected Richard White's career, at least temporarily.  In 1861 he was appointed Chief of the United States Revenue-Marine (later the U.S. Coast Guard).  He would serve in that post until 1878.

In the meantime, Stanford White pursued a career in architecture.  With no formal training, he became an apprentice in the office of Henry Hobson Richardson in 1871 at the age of 18.  While his professional life progressed (he would become Richardson's principal assistant), the young man's personal lifestyle was a concern to his parents.  Mary Cummings, in her Saving Sin City, says Stanford White and his friends "preferred the company of models and chorus girls to that of dowagers and debutantes."  She writes:

He was living with his family at 118 East 10th Street but seldom came home.  One night he was hurrying off in swallowtail and knee breeches to a society event, the next he was headed for the libidinous downtown wilds, leaving his father to lament that he was absent at breakfast, rarely present at dinner, and then after dinner "he don't stop at home more than ten to fifteen minutes but is off to the Benedick."

Stanford White, photograph by George Cox, ca 1892 (copyright expired)

Stanford White left East 10th Street in 1878 for a year-and-a-half tour of Europe.  When he returned in 1879, he joined Charles Follen McKim and William Rutherford Mead to form McKim, Mead and White.  His parents had sold 118 East 10th Street to Charles Nicholson the previous year.  They moved to 330 East 17th Street where Richard Grant White died on April 5, 1885.  In reporting on his death, The New York Times called him a "variously accomplished man."

The house was owned by two more owners in quick succession.  After William L. Stow purchased it for $14,000 in October 1884 (about $462,000 in 2026), the dwelling was operated as a boarding house. 

Among the residents in 1886 was singer Louise Pauline, described by The Sun as the "prima donna of the Carlton Opera Company."  In May that year, the company took the production of The Bohemian Girl to Philadelphia.  The New York Times reported that on May 29, "just before the curtain rose on the first act," Louise fainted.  She was taken to her dressing room where her costume was removed by two other singers.  Louise would later say, "They took $1,500 which was concealed in my bodice, and gave it to the stage manager, Mr. [Charles] Fais, for safe keeping."  (It was an astounding amount of cash to be hidden in one's underclothes--equal to about $51,000 today.)

Upon returning to 118 East 10th Street, Louise Pauline asked Fais for her money.  "He gave it all back except $90," she told the courts.  He could not explain the shortfall, "and offered to return to Philadelphia and investigate," reported The New York Times.  After waiting a week, Louise had Charles Fais arrested.  The Times said, "When taken into custody, however, he offered to make good the loss."

The boarders continued to be respectable, for the most part.  In 1890 they included Mary E. Brady, a teacher in the primary department of Grammar School No. 30.  Edward Bagwell and Frank Tuttle also lived here at the time.   

On July 8, 1890, The Evening World reported on the stifling heat wave, predicting, "Old Sol is rendering himself liable for malicious mischief to-day."  The previous day, the "malicious mischief" of the dangerous heat resulted in 39-year-old Edward Bagwell's collapsing on a Christopher Street streetcar.  He was taken to St. Vincent's Hospital for treatment.

Later that year, on the night of September 3, Frank Tuttle was walking along the corner of Bond Street and the Bowery when he "lurched against" Jack Ashton and "made an impolite remark."  The World reported, "Mr. Ashton returned a merry response and Mr. Tuttle, unfortunately, took that as an evidence of weakness, so he rushed rudely forward and attempted to toss Mr. Ashton into the air."  Tuttle had chosen the wrong man to attack.  The article said, 

But Mr. Ashton is as quick with his fists as he is at repartee, and he dealt Mr. Tuttle that which is known at Bond street and the Bowery as a "biff on the kisser."  Mr. Tuttle made a second attempt, and, this time, instead of being the thrower, he became the throwee.

A passing policeman arrested both men.  At the station house, neither wanted to make a complaint.  The World ended its article saying, "In a few moments that entente cordiale which should always exist between gentlemen was re-established, and the snowy dove of peace cooed and spread her pin-feathers over the happy little group."

Annie Nicholson operated the boarding house at the time.  She proved to be more than a match for 25-year-old Joseph Braham on the night of February 6, 1893.  Described by The Evening World as a "sneak thief," he attempted to leave the house that night with a $60 overcoat.  Annie Nicholson thought not.  She overpowered the young man and held him until a policeman arrived and arrested him.

Boarding here that year was actress Ella Dunbar who was playing the leading female role in A Winning Hand.  The company went on the road on October 16, 1893, but the reviews were devastating.  Just over a week later, she was back.  With no receipts, the cast did not get paid and Ella had to leave her jewelry with the hotel as a guarantee for her room fare.  Additionally, she had to put up the check for her trunk with the railroad for her passage.

At the turn of the century, the neighborhood had declined.  The condition was reflected in the change in boarders.  Margaret Delahunty worked at the Hot Air Club at 7 East 22nd Street within the notorious Tenderloin district.  On November 6, 1904, undercover officers entered the nightclub.  The Sun reported that 27-year-old Margaret Delahunty and 21-year-old Mable Miller, "stepped out on an improvised stage and began to sing and dance.  The crowd voted the performance slow."

One of the women replied, "Think so? Well, there!" and kicked off her slipper.  "In the course of the next five minutes the performers removed one garment after another."  Responding to a call from the officers, "a squad of Tenderloin sleuths rushed in and arrested everybody."  

George Berger and his family occupied rooms here in 1911.  A clerk, according to him, he was having problems supporting his family.  On the afternoon of June 21, he sneaked into the apartment of W. J. R. Johnston, a magazine writer, at 215 West 108th Street.  Mrs. Johnston returned home to find him there.

"I guess I got into the wrong apartment," he said.

"I am sure you did," she answered.  

The woman confronting him was no retiring housewife.  "Take off that coat and let me see what property of mine you've got in your pockets," she demanded.  The Sun reported, "She called for help and the neighbors began to arrive.  They found the man backed up against the wall with Mrs. Johnston guarding him."

Police officer Murrell arrived with his gun drawn.  Mrs. Johnston realized that she was dealing with a meek, inexperienced burglar.  "You can put that gun back in your pocket," she said, "He's perfectly harmless."

More experienced in burglary was Harry Stein, a 26-year-old roomer who listed his profession as a salesman.  On August 16, 1916, he was arrested during a burglary in the Bronx with two accomplices.  The New-York Tribune reported that Stein tried to escape, but "a shot into the air stopped" him.

When Stein got out of jail, he returned to 118 East 10th Street and to his life of crime.  On October 1, 1916, he appeared in court to plead guilty of another burglary.  The Evening World said he and his accomplice had "long police records."

By the end of World War I, the rooming house was operated by a Mrs. Lewis.  A woman who gave her name as Helen Curtis took a room in 1920.  According to Mrs. Lewis, she left at the beginning of summer "to take a position as checker in a tea room."

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

On September 23, old Helen Bolger was admitted to the Manhattan Eye, Ear and Throat Hospital.  She gave her address as 118 East 10th Street.  During a throat operation that night, she died.  The 24-year-old was the wife of a merchant mariner, Thomas Bolger, who had just returned from sea.  In a bizarre turn of events, Helen Bolger and Helen Curtis were the same woman and why she was living in Mrs. Lewis's rooming house under an assumed name is a mystery.

On June 9, 1958, The New York Times reported that 118 East 10th Street had been purchased by S. P. Sloane and Lloyd Hauser.  "They plan to modernize the building into ten apartments," said the article.  Instead, the renovations resulted in just four apartments--a duplex in the basement and first floor, one apartment each on the second and third, and a duplex in the fourth and fifth floor.

Among the residents in the early 1970s were Huibert Zuur and Edward J. Austin.  The young men had worked together for Halston for some years.  In 1973, they launched their own women's clothing line: Austin-Zuur.  On September 9, 1974, Enid Now reported in The New York Times, "The partners show their collection in their glass, brick and wicker duplex apartment at 118 East 10th Street."

From the exterior, the house where one of the world's greatest Shakespearean scholars and one of America's greatest architects lived for decades is little changed since 1861.

photographs by the author

The 1861 Claudius B. Conant House - 25 Stuyvesant Street

 

The regimented grid of the 1811 Commissioners Plan was interrupted by the diagonally-running Stuyvesant Street, originally a lane created by the Stuyvesant family to separate their two farms, Bouwerij #1 and #2.  On September 16, 1854, Matthias Banta purchased the triangular point between Stuyvesant Street and East 10th Street for development.

Generally attributed to James Renwick, Jr., Banta's five-story-and-basement Anglo-Italianate homes were completed in 1861.  They varied from 16- to 32-feet-wide and (because of the triangular plot) their depths ranged from 16- to 48-feet.  Among the narrowest was 25 Stuyvesant Street.  Like its neighbors, its rusticated brownstone basement and first floors sat below four stories of red brick trimmed in stone.  The tall, a stone bandcourse connected the fully-arched windows of the second floor.  Each of the architrave frames of the upper openings were treated slightly differently.

Matthias Banta retained ownership of the house, leasing it originally to Margaret Madden who operated it as a boarding house.  On August 20, 1861, she advertised:

Board--At 25 Stuyvesant Street.  Second Floor of the new English basement house, a front and back Parlor, unfurnished.  Also a gentleman and his wife or two single gentlemen can be accommodated with Board.  House has all the modern improvements.  Convenient to cars and stages.

Madden's venture was relatively short-lived.  By 1863, two Fay families occupied the house.  Signourney Webster Fay was a merchant, operating at 48 Park Place, and Emery Brigham Fay was a broker.  Signourney and Emery were cousins, their fathers Nahum and Dexter Fay, respectively, were brothers.  

Born in 1814 in Southborough, Massachusetts, Emery married Almira Allton Adams in 1838.  They had five grown children.  Signourney was significantly younger than his cousin.  Emery was born in Boston in 1836 and he married Delia Almira Fay in 1860.  

The Civil War interrupted the Fays' residency here.  Signourney enlisted in the Union Army in March 1863.  Emery and Almira moved to East 7th Street and, presumably, Delia went along with them.  Upon Signorney's return from the war, he and Delia moved to Long Island.

The house was leased by the extended Claudius Buchanan Conant family.  Born in 1819, his wife was the former Elizabeth Trumbull Mills.  Living with the couple were their son, Clarence Mortimer; their daughters Elizabeth J. and Elizabeth Ann, and her husband John Richards Weed, and their son, Louis Mortimer.  

In 1866, both Clarence and Louis attended the College of the City of New York--Clarence as a junior and Louis in the Introductory Class.  Emily attended Normal College and in 1870 taught in that facility's "model school."

Also living in what must have been snug conditions was Alice Cunningham Fletcher.  In their commentary to Alice's memoir, Life Among The Indians, Joanna C. Scherer and Raymond J. DeMallie explains, "During her adolescence, family problems, the details of which have gone unrecorded, prompted her to leave home and take a position as a governess to the children of a wealthy hardware merchant, Claudius Buchanan Conant."

With the Conant children grown, Alice remained with the family, which essentially acted as her patron.  Joan T. Mark, in her A Stranger in Her Native Land, Alice Fletcher and the American Indians, writes, "Alice Fletcher's years as a governess came to an end around 1870, when she was in her early thirties.  With Claudius Conant, her former employer, still paying her a substantial salary, she [lived] at 25 Stuyvesant Street on Manhattan and set out to explore the cultural life of New York City.

While living here, Alice became highly involved with women's causes.  An article in the New York Herald on October 15, 1873, reported on the Woman's Congress, which the newspaper sarcastically said was composed of "about 120 'earnest' ladies, upon whom 'missions' have devolved."  The article noted, "The secretary of the Woman's Congress is Miss C. Fletcher, No. 25 Stuyvesant street."

While still living here, she turned to anthropology and ethnology, making extensive trips to the West to study Native American culture.  

Alice Cunningham Fletcher with Chief Joseph at the Nez Percé Lapwai Reservation in Idaho in 1889.  The man on the left is James Stuart, Alice's interpreter.  from the collection of the Smithsonian Institute.

Alice C. Fletcher became one of the most influential anthropologists studying Native Americans and helped write the Daws Act of 1887, which eliminated reservations and distributed communal land to individual households.

Claudius Buchanan Conant died in 1877.  By 1880, Clarence Mortimer Conant was a physician with his medical office in the house.  The family left in 1887 and the Banta family leased it to a proprietor who operated it as a rooming house.  A succinct advertisement in The Sun on August 1, 1888 offered, "To Let--Newly furnished rooms, suitable for one or two, near 3d av. and 9th st. elevated station."

By the turn of the century, the neighborhood had decidedly declined.  No. 25 Stuyvesant Street was leased by Flanagan Bros., the offices of which were on West 34th Street.  They sublet it to Annie Russell, a.k.a. Sadie Brown, who purportedly rented rooms.  Her operation was much more than that, however.

Living here in 1901 was 21-year-old Alma Cirnicer.  She worked closely with Meyer Rosenthal, who ran the Rosedale Hotel at 395 Bowery, to fleece naive "customers."  That summer Kai Bronsted, a lawyer from Copenhagen, had been visiting friends in Brooklyn.  On August 26, his last night in New York, he "determined to inspect the Bowery," as he explained to police.  He said he met Alma "and accompanied her to the Rosedale Hotel, where he was robbed of $59," reported The Evening World.

Bronsted complained to Rosenthal, who pretended to help.  They found Alma at Third Street and the Bowery where she handed him his empty wallet.  As they were arguing, Detective Penz happened by and arrested Alma and Rosenthal.

At the time, the house where Alma Cirnicer lived was on the police investigators' watch list.  A 1901 police report listed 25 Stuyvesant Street among "suspicious houses of prostitution."  And on March 7, 1902, Edward Bicherer signed a deposition saying he had visited 25 Stuyvesant Street several times and found that "Annie Russell did unlawfully keep a place...for persons to visit for unlawful sexual intercourse, and for lewd, obscene and indecent purposes."

Annie Russell was charged for running a disorderly house...

and there unlawfully procure and permit as well men and women of evil name and fame and of dishonest conversation, to visit, frequent and come together for unlawful sexual intercourse and for purpose of prostitution and there unlawfully and willfully did permit said men and women of evil name and fame there to be and remain drinking, dancing, fighting, disturbing the peace, whoring and misbehaving themselves.

On March 29, 1902, Flanagan Bros. received a letter from the Police Department that said in part, "You are hereby notified that your tenant, Sadie Brown, in the premises 25 Stuyvesant Street, was convicted of the crime of keeping and maintaining a disorderly house."  The letter demanded that if the tenant was not evicted immediately, the matter would be forwarded to the District Attorney.

The threat was successful.  Flanagan Bros. did not renew its lease and in March 1904, Emil Neufeld took over.  His roomers, many of them German immigrants, were hard working and respectable.

A roomer leans in the doorway of 25 Stuyvesant Street in 1941.  At the left is the 1803 Stuyvesant-Fish house.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The estate of Eliza A. Banta sold the house in 1925 to Jacob Bellak, who continued to rent rooms.  It quickly became the scene of a disturbing incident.  In October 1926, the body of Catherine Braum was found "hanging from the ceiling of a room at 25 Stuyvesant Street," according to The New York Times.  The death was reported as a suicide, but neighbors thought there was foul play involved.  They insisted that the 65-year-old had been poisoned and her body staged as a suicide.  Faced with mounting pressure, the District Attorney's Office ordered that Braum's body be exhumed for an autopsy.  (Frustratingly, newspapers did not report the findings.)

Another shocking incident occurred on April 2, 1939.  That morning, the Rev. Francis X. Quinn of the Church of the Guardian Angel was invited to a housewarming party at Eighth Avenue and 22nd Street.  "Instead of going to this party in a limousine I found myself traveling in a police car," he told reporters later.

At 25 Stuyvesant Street, 23-year-old John Naumo was holding an elderly couple "as hostages in an effort to stave off capture by police," as reported by the Long Island Star-Journal.  Quinn said he "arrived at the apartment an unwelcome visitor."

Naumo pointed his gun at the priest and said, "Come in father--with your hands up."  The desperate suspect and the cool-headed cleric talked at length.  Finally, said the newspaper, "After more than an hour of drama and suspense, during which the bandit asked the priest to get a glass and a bottle of beer from the icebox, the priest induced the bandit to surrender."

Through it all, 25 Stuyvesant Street was never converted to apartments.  When it was offered for sale in 2011, realtor photographs revealed that the 1861 interiors were remarkably intact.

A photograph of the parlor in 2011 shows an original marble Italianate mantel and intricate ceiling plasterwork.  via Brown Harris and Stevens realty

The house was purchased by award winning journalist and author Nina Munk.  Her articles have appeared in The New Yorker, The New York Times, and Vanity Fair among others.  She sold it in 2016 for $6.5 million.  

photographs by the author

The Altered Maximilian and Sarah Raefle House - 112 East 10th Street

 

The house originally matched that of 114 East 10th Street, to the left.  image via streeteasy.com

The far-sighted Commissioners Plan that laid out the future grid of streets and avenues of Manhattan was superimposed on the farms and country estates north of the city in 1811.  The proposed Tenth Street created an acutely triangular parcel with the existing diagonally-running Stuyvesant Street within the former Peter Stuyvesant farms (Bouwerij #1 and #2).  Elizabeth Stuyvesant, the widow of Petrus Stuyvesant, Peter's great-grandson, used the point of the triangle as her garden.  Four years after her death in 1854, Mathias Banta purchased the property.  He erected a row of handsome brick-and-stone houses that lined the V portion of the plot on Stuyvesant and Tenth Streets.

Completed in 1861, the Anglo-Italianate-style homes were five-stories tall above basements.  Josiah Burton purchased 182 East 10th Street (which would later be renumbered 112) for $6,500.  The price would translate to about $239,000 in 2026.  Generally attributed to James Renwick, Jr., like the others, it featured a rusticated brownstone basement and first floor.  They supported four stories of red brick trimmed in brownstone.  The tall, fully-arched windows of the second floor held hands by means of a stone bandcourse.  Each of the architrave frames of the upper openings were treated slightly differently.

Burton leased the house.  An advertisement in the New York Herald on May 8, 1867 read:

To Let--Handsomely furnished four story attic and English basement House; rent $325 per month, 112 East Tenth street, a few doors from Third avenue.

The rent would translate to $7,000 in 2026 terms.

Dr. Maximilian Gustav Raefle answered the ad.  Having served as a surgeon in the Navy during the Civil War, he was currently living at 34 St. Mark's Place at the time.  He, no doubt, rented 112 East 10th Street in anticipation of his upcoming wedding to Sarah Olmsted Bunce on November 13 that year.  Raefle was born in September 1836 in Germany and Sarah was born in May 1844 in Galesburg, Illinois.  The German doctor and his Midwestern bride almost assuredly met and fell in love when he was attending Humboldt Medical College in St. Louis.  (He graduated in 1861).  Sarah's father, James, was a doctor in Galesburg.

Moving into the house with the Raefles were Sarah's older sisters, Frances M. and Caroline Elizabeth Bunce.  A year later, on August 8, 1868, Frances (the eldest of the sisters) died.  Her funeral was held in the parlor two days later.

The couple rented unused space in their home.  An advertisement in the New York Herald on September 20, 1870, described:

To Let--An elegant frescoed front parlor with Bedroom.  Also other Rooms, double and single, at 112 East Tenth street, between Second and Third avenues; references.

Among their tenants in 1870 was dentist Rynear O. Moses and his wife.

The parlor was the scene of a heart wrenching ceremony that year.  The Raefles' first child, Maximilian Bunce, was born on January 13.  The baby died five months later, on July 17.  His tiny casket sat in the parlor until his funeral on July 20.

After renting 112 East 10th Street for five years, Maximilian and Sarah Raefle purchased it from Josiah H. Burton on November 6, 1872 for $18,000 (about $477,000 today).

The couple continued to take in roomers.  Living here in 1873 was an erudite and multi-talented young man whose ad in the New-York Tribune on September 22, 1873 read: "A Harvard Graduate, experienced and highly recommended, will instruct a private pupil two or three hours daily in Classics, French, Mathematics, &c.; city references.  Address C. K. No. 112 East Tenth-st."  Two months later, "C. K." advertised, "An experienced tenor desires a position in quartet or as precentor; Protestant church in or near city preferred."

For a second time, Sarah Raefle had to arrange a sister's funeral.  Caroline Elizabeth Bunce died on February 1, 1876 and her funeral was held in the house at 1:00 on the afternoon of February 5.

A daughter, Verona Beatrice, was born to Maximilian and Sarah Raefle on October 18, 1878.  In the meantime, Dr. Raefle's prestige in the medical community grew.  

On December 16, 1879, The Evening Telegram reported on the appointments of deputy coroners.  "Dr. Maximilian Raefle, of No. 112 East Tenth street, was appointed Mr. Brady's deputy," said the article.  Raefle held the position for 11 years, and on October 14, 1890, The New York Times reported that he had been nominated for coroner.  Noting that he voted Republican, the article went on to say:

He lives at 112 East Tenth Street, is a German by birth, and is a physician of first-class reputation.  He is about fifty years of age, and is a Grand Army man, and has already seen service in the Coroners' office, having been Deputy Coroner under John H. Brady some years ago.

Michael Springer, Jr. lived with his parents in "the German quarter of Fifth street in the neighborhood of Second avenue," as described by the New York Herald.  Michael Springer, Sr. ran a butcher shop at 242 Fifth Street and Michael Jr., who was 22, worked as a butcher's boy in the Tompkins Market.

On June 26, 1890, Michael Jr., described by the newspaper as "stoutly built and fair haired," began to complain of the heat.  The article said that he "was suddenly seized with violent spasms and began barking like a dog, rolling about on the floor, snapping and snarling and acting as though he were stark mad."  Police were called to control the young man.  Michael "attempted to fight the policeman, conducting himself in such a violent manner and making such frantic attempts to bite him that [Officer] McEvoy at length thrust his club into Michael's mouth."

Someone ran to 112 East 10th Street and requested Dr. Raefle to assist.  He, however, responded rather coldly (considering his Hippocratic Oath).  The New York Herald recounted, "but he did not respond, saying, it is reported, that the sufferer was a fit subject for an asylum."  Michael Springer, Jr. was taken to Bellevue Hospital where he was later discharged after "recovering from the effects of excessive drink."

Maximilian and Sarah Raefle sold 112 East 10th Street on April 11, 1893 to Franz Kahlenberg for $17,300 (about $622,000 today).  Because the couple had been taking in several roomers, the house was described by the New York Herald as a "five story brick tenement."  

Franz Kahlenberg ran a drugstore at the corner of Essex and East Houston Street.  He had been in business there since 1854.  He and his family continued to take in roomers.  Among them in 1898 was 46-year-old John Williamson.  He was described by The New York Times as "small of stature, and with an unappeased appetite for religious lore," adding, "He is said to be a man of strong religious views, and a devout student of the Bible."  Unfortunately for Williamson, one edict within the Scriptures he ignored was "Thou shalt not steal."

On December 17, 1898, The New York Times reported that he was arrested in the American Baptist Publishing Company's bookstore, "attempting to steal a book."  The bookstore's manager, Theodore E. Schulte, had become suspicious of Williamson because he repeatedly visited the store, reading a page or two from a book, then moving to another, but never buying anything.  That afternoon, Schulte watched him and "was not surprised, so he says, to see him slip a book in his pocket."  At the stationhouse, Williamson tearfully insisted, "They must be mistaken."

Another religiously-inclined tenant was Frank W. Smith, a grand knight of the Knights of Columbus.  He was appointed a commissioner of deeds in 1899, a civil service position similar to a notary public today.  

In the fall of 1900, the attention of Frank W. Smith was directed to another of the 1861 houses, 27 Stuyvesant Street.  He filed a complaint with the police department "of disorderly house, women soliciting."  Smith was accusing the owner of running a brothel in his neighborhood.

Smith was still occupying his rooms here in 1902.  He was highly involved in the organizing of "the annual field day games of the Knights of Columbus," as reported by The New York Times on May 11 that year.  The event, which took place on June 21 at Celtic Park was a huge success.  Smith told the newspaper "that already more than 3,000 tickets of admission have been sold," and projected that "more than 10,000 will be sold before the day of the games."

By that time, Frank W. Smith had a new landlord.  Elias Stone had purchased 112 East 10th Street in August 1901 for $20,000, according to the New-York Tribune.  (The price would translate to about $761,000 today.)

Stone made improvements to the property.  In July 1904, he hired architect David Stone to rearrange the floor plans, install plumbing and new windows.

Elias Stone continued to operated 112 East 10th Street as a rooming house until 1927.  A renovation completed the following year resulted in "non-housekeeping apartments" on the first floor (meaning they had no kitchens), and one apartment each on the upper floors.  The apartments were intended for artists.  The windows on each floor (even the first) were replaced with vast, multi-paned studio windows that flooded the interiors with natural light.  The attic floor was raised to full height and a full-width skylight added.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Among the initial residents was painter, lithographer, and etcher Anne Goldthwaite.  Born in Montgomery, Alabama, she had studied at the National Academy of Design in New York and the Academie Moderne in Paris.  By the time she moved into her apartment here, she had received the McMillin landscape prize of the National Association of Women Painters and Sculptors in 1915; and a medal for etching at the Panama-Pacific Exposition in San Francisco the same year.  The 1929 One Hundred Important Paintings By Living American Artists noted that she was "represented in the Library of Congress, Metropolitan Museum and several other museums here and abroad."

Anne Goldthwaite, from Encyclopedia of Alabama

A journalist from the New York Evening Post visited Goldthwaite's studio in September 1933.  She asked the artist if she were "a bit thrilled" to be the only woman whose work would be included in the 56th exhibition of the Art Students' League.

"And, pray, why should I be?" Goldthwaite replied. "The time surely is past when there was some distinction in being the 'only girl' or the 'only woman' among a lot of men who were doing things.  Thank goodness, there are plenty of us today."

In reporting on Anne Goldthwaite's death on January 30, 1944, The New York Times noted that she had been an instructor at the Art Students' League "for the last twenty-three years," and that her works "are hung in prominent galleries" throughout America and Europe.  The article said, "In France, she numbered among her friends Picasso, Matisse and other prominent contemporary painters."

Among Goldthwaite's neighbors in the building in 1932 had been mining engineer Pomeroy C. Merrill.  He had just returned to America from the Soviet Union.  The Soviet Government hired him in 1930 to direct iron mining operations in the Ural Mountains.  Following World War II, he would go to Japan to help the occupation forces rebuild the Japanese iron ore industry.

After mid-century, art expert David Rosen lived here.  From 1934 to 1954, he headed the conservation and technical research department of the Walters Art Gallery in Baltimore.  He had also been a technical adviser to the Art Institute of Chicago, the Morgan Library, the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the Winterthur Museum in Delaware, and the Worcester Art Museum.  Born in Russia, he was a sculptor and painter before coming to America in 1913.  An expert in authenticating art works and detecting frauds, among his finds was a Gilbert Stuart portrait of George Washington which he found in a museum basement in 1941.  Rosen was still living here when he died at the age of 80 in 1960.

image via greatjonesrealty.com

The remodeling of 122 East 10th Street greatly altered the original design.  And yet, the handsome and compatible melding of the 1861 and 1928 compositions is extremely successful, resulting in an eye catching hybrid.

many thanks to reader Richard Gombar for suggesting this post

The Joshua B. Jenkins House - 33 Stuyvesant Street

 

On September 16, 1854, Matthias Banta purchased the triangular parcel that wrapped the north side of Stuyvesant Street and along the south side of East 10th Streets.  Architectural historians generally agree that James Renwick, Jr. designed the rows of Anglo-Italianate-style homes that Banta erected on the site.  Completed in 1861, they were five stories tall above short basements.  Sitting upon rusticated stone bases, the upper floors were faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone.  The tall, fully-arched windows of the second floor held hands by means of a stone bandcourse.  Each of the architrave frames of the upper openings were treated slightly differently.  The houses ranged from 16- to 32-feet wide.

Among the widest was 33 Stuyvesant Street at four bays wide.  It appears that the dwelling was initially operated as a high-end boarding house.  The affluence of the residents was reflected in a crime against Anna Francis in 1862.  On March 7, Frederick McAlpine pleaded guilty to stealing jewelry from her rooms and was committed to the House of Refuge--a facility for delinquent youths.  The jewelry was valued at $76--or about $2,450 in 2025 terms.

An advertisement in the New York Herald in 1865 read:

Elegantly furnished rooms to let--to single gentlemen or gentlemen and wife, with full Board for the lady.  Apply at 33 Stuyvesant street.

(The unusual circumstances meant that only the wife of a renting couple would be fed.)

In 1867, attorney Joshua B. and Mary R. Jenkins purchased the house.  The couple had at least one young adult son, Charles.  Joshua Jenkins died in 1872 and Mary began taking in roomers to augment her income.  Her ad on May 29 that year read:

A lady, living in her own elegantly furnished house, would rent Rooms, without board; gentlemen will find a delightful home.  33 Stuyvesant street.

Among her initial tenants was Henry T. Carroll, who taught in the boys' department of School No. 18 on East 51st Street.  In 1873, Siegfried Ehrenberg, the president of the Dry Goods Clerks' Early Closing Association, listed his address here.

Mary R. Jenkins soon rethought her operation and by 1874 was running a full fledged boarding house.  She advertised in February that year, "Wanted--A girl from 14 to 16 years old, to make herself generally useful in a private boarding house, one speaking French preferred."

Her boarders were well-heeled, like Dr. James L. Wilson, who lived here from about 1877 through 1879.  Attorney Michael A. Gearon lived here in 1882 when he and his partner, William K. Lancaster, were administrators of the estate of wealthy Jacob P. Kniffen.  That fall, Gearon drew a large amount of money from the Kniffen trust and disappeared.  Authorities searched for him but, as court documents in 1883 revealed, a clerk went "to his last known place of residence at No. 33 Stuyvesant Street...at different times of the day, but were unsuccessful in finding him."

In 1889, 28-year-old Samuel Blumenthal arrived in New York from Russia and took a room here.  He got a job as an agent for a Philadelphia-based watch company and for the next few years saved money in hopes of bringing his girlfriend, Annie Smolin, from Moscow.

Seven years after first moving into 33 Stuyvesant Street, Blumenthal lost his job.  To add to his problems, he had loaned money to someone who did not repay it.  When Blumenthal did not come downstairs for breakfast on April 16, 1896, Mary Jenkins knocked on his door.  Getting no response, she found Policeman Heiderich on the street.  The New York Herald reported, "he kicked in the door.  Blumenthal lay on his bed unconscious."  He was transported to Bellevue Hospital where "the doctor worked for two hours on the man, but could not restore him to consciousness."

Blumenthal had left a note that said he had "good cause for suicide, as he was in hard luck," according to the article.  He asked that his brother; his "sweetheart," Annie Smolin; and Rev. S. Ehrmann back in Russia be notified.  Three days later, the New York Herald said, "He is lying at Bellevue Hospital in a critical condition."

Mary R. Jenkins eventually moved into the basement level.  The Washington D.C. newspaper The Evening Times noted that although she, "owned the house, she lived in rather squalid quarters and let furnished lodgings on the upper floors."  The article added, "Her neighbor believed she had a great amount of money."

The 70-year-old suffered a horrific incident on October 23, 1890.  In the basement dining room was a gas stove which was used "for heating purposes," according to The Sun.  It was "burning high" on that chilly morning, and Mary settled down in an armchair next to it and dozed off.  

At around 10:30, Ella Aggler, "the colored servant employed by Mrs. Jenkins," as described by The Evening Times, entered the kitchen.  In highly callous wording, the newspaper said that Ella "saw the body of the old woman on the floor burned to a crisp."  Evidence--like the scorched chair and burned spots on the table and tablecloth--showed that Mary had wakened to find her clothing had caught fire from the stove.  "She ran around the table, the burning pieces of clothing dropping to the floor, and stumbled into the kitchen where she must have fallen, striking her head on the stove."

Stunned by the blow to her head (there was blood near her head on the floor), she succumbed to the flames.  The Sun said, "her clothing was entirely burned away and her body was charred."  The article noted that she had "lived in the house, which she owned, for over thirty years."

Elias Stone purchased 33 Stuyvesant Street in May 1899 and almost immediately leased it to Mathias Fettinger.  He and his wife continued to operate it as a boarding house.  In addition to the Fettingers in 1902, according to court documents, "three married couples, a few single men and one single woman, a typewriter for a firm at Broadway and Broome street," lived here.  

The unmarried men were all waiters at the Cafe Boulevard on Second Avenue.  The nature of their jobs meant that they returned home between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m.  The nocturnal foot traffic caused suspicions for one neighbor.  

"A mother at 9th and Stuyvesant streets," as identified in court papers, complained to Police Inspector Adam A. Cross that 33 Stuyvesant Street was a disorderly house--or brothel.  A policeman named Hibbard was detailed to surveil the house in plain clothes.  Sergeant James Churchill testified in part on January 6, 1902,

Every effort was made by Patrolman Hibbard to obtain any evidence that this house was of a disorderly character, that men called at late hour[s] or that disorderly acts could be witnessed at the windows.  

He found "nothing of the kind," other than the waiters returning home.  Hibbard interviewed neighbors who had no complaints about the Fettingers.  Finally, he confronted them directly.  Churchill said, "Mr. Fettinger and his wife welcomed an inspection of the premises...and the officer states that appearances indicate that this is a respectable house."

Elias Stone died in 1907, but his heirs retained possession of 33 Stuyvesant Street for several years.  

Among the residents in the early 1920s was composer and musician Henry Cowell.  Born in March 1897, he began playing violin at the age of four.  He started learning the piano at the age of nine and enrolled in the music department of the University of California, Berkeley in 1914.  In 1924 he founded the New Music Society and today is remembered as one of the nation's most influential composers.

Henry Cowell, from the cover of a 1924 Carnegie Hall program. (copyright expired)

On August 27, 1959, The Villager reported that 33 Stuyvesant Street had been sold, describing it as a "multiple dwelling."  The article said that the new owner would "remodel" the structure.  The alterations resulted in a two-family home.

Occupying one of the new apartments was bachelor Walter H. Campbell.  Born in 1921, he attended the University of North Carolina and served in World War II.  Formerly an editor with the Oxford University Press, when he moved into 33 Stuyvesant Street he was senior editor of Penthouse magazine.  He died here at the age of 55 on February 15, 1976.

There are still two residences in the house.  And although its brick facade could stand a gentle cleaning, it survives remarkably intact after more than 160 years.

photographs by the author

James Renwick Jr.'s 1859 23 Stuyvesant Street

On August 1, 1858, Hamilton Fish conveyed a portion of the triangular-shaped property he inherited from his mother, Elizabeth Stuyvesant Fish, to Matthias Banta for $35,000 ($1.38 million by 2025 terms).  It abutted the eastern side of his own home, 21 Stuyvesant Street, and wrapped the acute point of the parcel and back westerly along East 10th Street.  Matthias had the property surveyed to create seven building plots.

Architectural historians generally agree that James Renwick, Jr. was responsible for the resultant rowhouses.  The Anglo-Italianate, five-story-and-basement houses ranged from 16- to 32-feet-wide (because of the irregular, triangular parcel), their depths ranging from 16- to 48-feet.  Despite the varied sizes, Renwick so skillfully designed the homes as a unit that it is difficult at a glance to distinguish each residence.

Among the narrowest was 23 Stuyvesant Street.  Like its architectural siblings, its rusticated brownstone basement and first floors sat below four stories of red brick trimmed in brownstone.  The tall, fully-arched windows of the second floor held hands by means of a stone bandcourse.  Each of the architrave frames of the upper openings were treated slightly differently--those of the top floor resembling Victorian picture frames.

The houses were completed over a three-year period--23 Stuyvesant Street being one of the first.  Banta and his wife, Eliza, rented it.  Their first tenants placed an advertisement in the New York Herald on September 5, 1859:

A small private family would like to rent two rooms to gentlemen, or a gentleman and wife, with or without board.  House contains all improvements.  Apply at No. 23 Stuyvesant street, first new house east of Third avenue, and between Ninth and Tenth streets.

The ad was almost assuredly placed by Emily Eytinge.  The widow of Samuel D. Eytinge, she was living here in 1861 when she placed a verbatim advertisement in the same newspaper.

The Bantas' tenants, like Emily Eytinge, rarely remained more than one or two years.  The house was often shared with two families.  In 1863, for instance, the Gerard Banker and George I. Prime families were listed here.  Prime was a stockbroker.

In 1870, attorney Lester Newell moved in.  Possibly a bachelor, he rented "furnished rooms."  Although some families provided their renters with breakfast, Newell apparently offered no meals.  He most likely relied heavily on word-of-mouth as advertising, since two of his three renters in 1872 were also lawyers.  The other was Julias Knoedler, "pictures."  He was no doubt associated with M. Knoedler & Co., which dealt in Old Masters.  Lester Newell rented the house through 1880.

Leo Gartner lived here in 1889.  The 25-year-old worked as a bookkeeper at Morris, Marks & Wolf, tailors.  That year, he traveled to Washington D.C. to attend the inauguration of Benjamin Harrison on March 4.  He returned to 23 Stuyvesant Street the following night and was met by Detectives Reap and Connor, who arrested him.  In his absence, Morris, Marks & Wolf charged him with "the larceny of $125."  The Evening World explained, "The firm said that Gartner collected the money and appropriated it to pay his expenses of a trip to Washington."

By the first years of the 20th century, Annie Wilson operated 23 Stuyvesant Street as a "furnished room house."  Among her tenants were Leopold Hibbe, a physician, and his real estate agent brother, Henry C. Hibbe.  The brothers found themselves in serious trouble in the fall of 1902.

On September 8, Agnes Lynch, a chorus girl known on the stage as "Laughing Fay" Ransom, "died in the arms of a Roman Catholic priest," as reported by The Evening Post, "after making a confession."  That confession was that she had had an abortion.  Three days later The Evening World reported that Dr. Leopold Hibbe had been arrested.  "Dr. Hibbe denies absolutely any malpractice," said the article.

The next day, The Daily Globe reported, "police are looking for his brother, Dr. Henry C. Hibbe."  The article said the dying girl implicated "the Drs. Hibbes."  (If Agnes thought Henry C. Hibbes was a physician, or if he posed as one, it was not true.) 

The brothers were tried separately.  On April 29, 1903, The New York Times reported that Dr. Leopold Hibbe had been acquitted.  Hibbe's attorney said only, "that he could not be convicted, as the principal in the case already had been found guilty."  That person, of course, was Henry C. Hibbe.  He was convicted of manslaughter in the first degree and received a ten-year sentence a week later.  Henry's attorney had attempted to get a new trial, saying that the evidence in the two brothers' trials was exactly the same and, therefore, the verdict "could not have been in accordance with the testimony."

The judge dismissed the motion, saying, "The only comment I wish to make on your argument is that the verdict in your client's case was a just verdict, and the other a miscarriage of justice."

At the time of the Hibbes' legal problems, the neighborhood in general was being scrutinized by authorities.  In the spring of 1902, an "anonymous communication" was received at police headquarters.  It complained that disorderly houses (i.e., brothels) were operating in six East 9th Street houses and in three on Stuyvesant Street, including No. 23.  The complaint alleged that the houses were "destroying the morals of school children of the neighborhood."  Police were deployed to investigate each of the residences.

A report by First Deputy Commissioner of Police Nathaniel B. Thurston on March 13 detailed the results.  It said in part:

No. 23 Stuyvesant Street is a five-story and basement brick building...This house is run as a furnished house for men only, by Mrs. Annie Wilson and so far as could be ascertained, is thoroughly respectable.

While the house passed inspection, the renters (like the Hibbes) were not always on the right side of the law.  An example was Charles Clayton, who lived here in 1909.  On October 18 that year, he and Harry Isaac Taber "of nowhere in particular" were arrested.  The Brooklyn Daily Eagle noted, "Clayton's picture is in the Rogue's Gallery in Manhattan as a short change artist."  The two raised the suspicions of two detectives because of their "scattering loaves of bread about with amazing prodigality."

The detectives watched as they "would go into a small shop and stay a while; then emerge with a loaf tucked under the arm of one or the other, or a 'duchess cake,' the 15 cent goody which is to be found in almost any bakery."  The policemen then went into the stores and discovered that Clayton and Taber would make the small purchases, then "dispute about the correctness of the change."  The pair was arrested as "flim-flamming."  In each case they had profited from $1 to $2.

John McClaren operated the rooming house in 1910.  He was involved in a feud with Ernest G. Hamilton who ran a livery stable uptown at 2530 Amsterdam Avenue.  McClaren had housed a horse or a vehicle there until 1909 when Hamilton "put him out."  According to McClaren, Hamilton owed him $10 for prepaid fees.  When he was unable to get his money back, he went to the police headquarters.  The New York Times reported, "a detective investigated his story, but the matter was dropped."  McClaren then filed a complaint against the detective, but that, too, was dismissed.

On October 22, 1910, McClaren took the matter into his own hands.  He appeared at Hamilton's stable and finding the owner outside, said, "I want you to fix up that matter.  If you don't I will fix you."

Hamilton ordered him to leave.  Instead, McClaren pulled out a revolver and fired.  The stable owner rushed into the building, shutting the door behind him.  He waited a few minutes and, hearing nothing more, stepped out to find a policeman.  McClaren was still there and "fired more shots at him and then ran," said The New York Times.

A crowd pursued McClaren until he turned on them and fired.  One man, Max Keppel, fell to the sidewalk.  McClaren shot again and the crowed "sought shelter."  But while he was distracted by the crowd, another pedestrian sneaked up from behind.  Hamilton, who was among the throng, "grabbed the revolver and the crowd set upon McClaren."  The New York Times said that Policeman Siegnener "arrived just in time to rescue him."  

Both Keppell and McClaren were hospitalized.  Keppell was shot in the side and was "in a very serious condition," said The Times, and McClaren was "suffering from the effects of a beating he received at the hands of the crowd."

In 1910, Eliza A. Banta, widow of Matthias, died.  In December, her estate sold the building he had erected half a century earlier.  It was purchased by Elois J. Mosser who resold it a month later to Antonie and Ludwig Lievendag, who lived next door at 25 Stuyvesant Street.

In 1913, released convict Michael Murphy took a room here.  He had been held in Dannemora Prison.  Before his incarceration he had committed the unthinkable among crooks--he informed on another man who, as a result, was sent to Sing Sing.  Now free, Murphy tried to smooth things over in the underworld.

On January 20, 1914, he was in a Bowery saloon "known for many years as 'The Tub of Blood,'" according to the New-York Tribune.  The 38-year-old "was trying to make his peace and shake hands with a man who had quarreled with him for informing on a pal," said the article.  The man, according to the 19-year-old bartender Joseph Mera, was known only as "Gyp the Blood the Second."  Instead of shaking Murphy's hand, Gyp the Blood II shot him dead.  The New-York Tribune said Murphy had "paid the crook's price for informing."

The renters in 23 Stuyvesant Street continued to be blue collar throughout the subsequent decades.  In 1935 through 1939, for instance, Henry Hegemeier lived here.  He worked as a bartender.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Then, on July 7, 1960, The Villager reported, "The five-story rooming house at 23 Stuyvesant St. has been sold to Mr. and Mrs. R. S. Flusser...Mr. and Mrs. Flusser will occupy a triplex apartment after 'extensive alterations' to the building."

Richard S. Flusser and his wife, Beth, converted the house into two triplex apartments.  The renovations were completed in 1961.  Their apartment became headquarters to Flusser's After Dinner Opera Company.  

A director and music teacher, Flusser founded the After Dinner Opera Company in 1949.  Earlier that summer, while studying at Queens College, he went to Tanglewood where, according to The New York Times, "Leonard Bernstein and Aaron Copland encouraged him to start a company devoted to contemporary American opera."  He founded the company that fall.  Its name came from its first performances, which were held in private homes.

In 1969, Flusser became a professor of music at Queensborough Community College.  He also taught opera workshops at the New School.  He and Beth had a daughter, Jennifer-Jo and a son, Matthew.

On January 3, 1975, The Villager reported that the company "will perform a kaleidoscope of early American opera" on January 6 at Fraunces Tavern.  The article mentioned, "The production has been staged by Richard Flusser, who lives at 23 Stuyvesant St, home base for the opera company."

The company was by now a "mainstay in the margins of the opera world," as worded by The New York Times.  On September 22, 1984, The Amsterdam News reported on the opening program of the After Dinner Opera Company's "Meet The Composers Series."  The article said the series "is dedicated to bringing new operas and their composers to New York City audiences in free performances."

Richard Flusser died here at the age of 75 on July 1, 2002, and Beth Flusser died on November 20, 2021 at the age of 87.

Today there are still two apartments in the building.

photographs by the author