The Lost Dry Dock Savings Bank - 341-343 Bowery

 

original source unknown

Starting early 1820's, the former Stuyvesant family land along the East River east of the Bowery became Manhattan's main shipbuilding location, earning the district the name of the Dry Dock Neighborhood.  The following decade saw banks opening along the Bowery--first the Bull's Head Bank (an outgrowth of the Bull's Head Tavern), followed by the Butchers and Drovers Bank in 1830, and the Bowery Savings Bank in 1834.

In 1848 The Dry-Dock Savings Bank was formed by "a number of gentlemen principally interested in [the shipbuilding] industry."  According to King's Handbook of New York, they hoped "to encourage thrift and prudence among their workmen."  Originally located on East 10th Street near the river, it moved to 339-341 East 4th Street in 1859.

And then, in 1872, the directors purchased the properties at the southeast corner of the Bowery and East 3rd Street, "in part occupied as a marble yard," according to the New York Herald on December 12.  The newspaper somewhat lamented the deal, saying, "This precludes the possibility of a new German theatre on what was the favorite site with that part of our population."

The bank hired Prague-born architect Leopold Eidlitz to design its new home.  Generally considered America's first Jewish architect, he was a founding member of the American Institute of Architects.  

Construction began in June 1873 and was completed in December 1875.  Saying the building was "valued at $250,000" ($6 million in today's money), King's Handbook of New York called it "one of the finest buildings in the country for its purposes." Eidlitz's Victorian Gothic, or Ruskinian Gothic, design was striking.  An enclosed portico served as the base for a charming gable-roofed balcony.  Stone balconies clung to the East 3rd Street façade, and the arched openings wore variegated voussoirs, nearly obligatory in the Victorian Gothic style.  The upper floors transitioned to a mélange of shapes and angles, with crisp dormers poking through the several steep roofs.

The bank's name was worked into the arch of the balcony.  original source unknown

The princely building easily stood out among its humbler neighbors.  On October 16, 1886, the Real Estate Record & Guide commented, "people were surprised, and criticized the directors for erecting an ornate and imposing building in so unpromising a region."  Eidlitz had designed one of the last New York City buildings in the fading style.  On April 9, 1898, the Record & Guide said, "In 1868 Victorian Gothic was far from being a new story, even in New York...The movement, however, was closing and of the last notable buildings it gave to New York may be mentioned the Jefferson Market Court House [and] the Dry Dock Savings Bank."  

Only months after the bank moved into its new home trouble arose.  On June 22, 1876 The New York Times entitled an article "The Run on the Dry Dock Bank," and reported, "As early as 9 o'clock yesterday morning the depositors of the Dry Dock Savings Bank...began to congregate in front of the doors of that institution, and from that time until the bank was opened they elbowed and pushed one another in a somewhat vain endeavor to be first to enter."

The newspaper said that the bank's officers had anticipated the rush, and three policemen were there "to keep the excited men and women in line."  Dry Dock Bank's president, Andrew Mills, told the reporter that the bank's officers "were at a loss to account for the run," assuring that "They had plenty of money with which to pay off those then present."  Happily, two days later the Albany Morning Express reported, "The run on the Dry Dock Savings Bank is at an end.  Only twenty persons demanded their money yesterday morning, and were promptly paid.  Many came to draw, but went away without doing so.  Confidence was restored and business proceeded as usual."

The glass plate negative was reversed, resulting in a backwards photograph of the bank.  original source unknown

As the century drew to a close, many of the Bowery banks moved northward, following their depositors.  But the Dry Dock Savings Institution (the name had recently been changed) was firmly rooted in its site.  On May 14, 1896 the New-York Tribune wrote, "The Dry Dock Savings Institution, at No. 343 Bowery, seems as immovable as the hills.  Its building is substantial, commodious and impressive.  Its officers say that there is no talk that the bank will move to a new home."  And, indeed, it would operate from the location for decades to come.

But the neighborhood was, nonetheless, degrading.  At around 10:30 on the morning of July 19, 1909.  Mrs. Rosa Fleischmann arrived at the bank.  She was a long-standing customer and, because she had her two-year-old daughter, Mamie, in her arms, the bank treasurer offered to take her $40 deposit to the teller for her.  As she waited, a man rushed up, snatched her satchel and ran.

Rosa's screams sent Special Officer George Wilson on the thief's trail.  He caught him a block away at the Bowery and East 4th Street, and "hurried him back to the bank," according to The New York Times.  "The commotion caused a great crowd to gather in front of the bank, and President Mills came out and told Wilson to bring the fellow back into his private office."  

There the man turned the tables on Rosa Fleischmann.  Saying he was Aaron Wolberg, a cigarmaker, he insisted she had stolen his bag and he had simply gotten it back.  Inside, he said, was $2,000.  Mills asked him what else was in the satchel.  "Just the money and nothing else," was the reply.

The two-story banking banking room had polished marble columns.  Obligatory spittoons dot the mosaic-tiled floor.  Architectural Record, December 1911 (copyright expired)

Rosa Fleischman was then asked the same question.  She said it held her bankbook and a bottle of milk.  It was opened to reveal the book and the milk.  "It's hers," exclaimed Wolberg, as he bolted for the door.  He was overtaken by Wilson who held him on the floor until Policeman John Spath arrived.  

Wolberg "put up several hard fights on the way to court," said The New York Times, "and Spath's hands were bleeding from several wounds, most of them due to the sharpness of Wolberg's teeth."  Wolberg now changed his story, telling the judge "the bag had been given to him by a stranger."  A policeman suggested that Wolberg was a member of a gang known to loiter around the bank.  The New York Times explained, "It is said that women depositors have often been annoyed by members of this gang."

King's Handbook of New York, 1892 (copyright expired)

In October 1932, Hiram C. Bloomingdale of Bloomingdale Brothers sold four old four-story buildings the northwest corner of Lexington Avenue and 59th Street to the Dry Dock Savings Institution.  Andrew Mills announced that plans were being drawn for a branch bank on the site, while promising that the Bowery building "will continue to be its main office."

The following year the bank hired architect Louis S. Weeks to make interior renovations to the vintage Bowery building.  The updating was restricted to the cavernous banking room and the executive offices. 

By mid-century, the Bowery neighborhood had deteriorated to Manhattan's Skid Row.  On May 18, 1950, The Times Record explained that abandoned funds were not kept by the banking institutions, but after 15 years were turned over to the State.  The article delved into the reason why the owners were sometimes hard to track down.  It noted, "Illiterates are another problem.  The Bowery office of the Dry Dock Savings Bank reported last year that it has had some sad experiences with its unschooled depositors to whom the spelling of their name is a matter of supreme indifference."

from the collection of the Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library, Columbia University

The demographics finally made it impossible for the bank to continue at its location.  On November 9, 1954, The New York Times reported, "A gasoline service station is to replace the old Dry Dock Savings Bank Building...The four-story structure, erected in 1875, has been sold by the bank to the L. B. Oil Company, Inc.

image via villagepreservation.org

The gasoline service station survived into the 21st century, replaced in 2008 by the 16-story Bowery Hotel, designed by Scarano & Associates.

image via tripadvisor.com

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The Lost Church of the Holy Trinity - East 42nd and Madison Avenue

 

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

On September 8, 1864 The New York Times reported, "The corner-stone of the Church of the Holy Trinity, Madison-avenue, corner of East Forty-second-street, will be laid at 4 o'clock this afternoon.  This is a new enterprise, started by Rev. Stephen H. Tyng, Jr., in the Rutger's Institute Chapel, early last Spring."  The congregation had commissioned architect Jacob Wrey Mould to design the structure.  This church promised to carry on his well-known affinity for colorful and somewhat exotic designs.  "The building is to be of blue and Ohio yellow stone, and brick laid in black mortar."

As the building rose, on May 6, 1865 The New York Times described the design.  "Mr. Mould has not assumed to embody any features of the so-called Gothic, Byzantine, Italian or renaissance styles, but simply such a combination of architectural elements as are best adapted to product a temporary, economical and yet commodious church building."  The writer praised Mould's "charming novelty of effect, and a cheerfulness of interior aspect that effectually combines the church with the home."

Jacob Wrey Mould's quaint, country-like church.  original source unknown

The church building was consecrated in 1865.  According to The New York Times, construction had cost $59,000--just under $1 million today.  Its northern location prompted Andrew C. Zabriskie, in an address to The American Numismatic and Archaeological Society, to say, "...the small brick Church of the Holy Trinity stood as a sentry on the edge of civilization."  But civilization was close on its heels.

As the Murray Hill neighborhood developed, the church was no longer able to accommodate its growing congregation.  On March 2, 1873 Rev. Stephen H. Tyng, Jr. delivered his last sermon in the building.  The New York Herald commented that "The elegant and well-known Church of the Holy Trinity...was filled to overflowing yesterday morning by parishioners and strangers to take part in the farewell services of this house of worship, as around the present structure there is already being laid the foundation of a more commodious and grander building."

Rev. Stephen H. Tyng, Jr. The American Portrait Gallery, 1877 (copyright expired)

The replacement structure had been designed by Leopold Eidlitz.  Construction was completed within the year, the first service being held on Easter Sunday, April 19, 1874.  Its $200,000 cost would equal a staggering $4.7 million in today's money.   The New York Times described it saying, "both externally and internally [it] is one of the finest in the City, and, from a purely architectural standpoint, is an ornament to the flourishing locality in which it is situated."

The Daily Graphic, April 28, 1874 (copyright expired)

Eidlitz's Ruskinian Gothic design featured polychrome brick and stonework, colorful decorative brick diapering, and multi-hued patterns in the slate roof and steeples.  The main tower contained two belfries and rose 190 feet.  The interior was a departure from expected church architecture, its seating arranged in amphitheater style.  The New York Times wrote, "The ground plan of the building might, in the first instance, suggest the idea of a theatre, in respect to the arrangement of the pews, but the general features of church architecture are so adhered to as to dispel this illusion."  

The New York Herald wrote:

The interior of this church is both handsome and comfortable.  The Gothic roof and the gilding and decorations in renaissance have an excellent effect.  There is a happy combination in the amount of color introduced.  As for the upholstering, it appears to have been designed to make the congregation feel a delightful sense of repose.

The large building accommodated the church's several outreach programs.  Holy Trinity operated a dispensary for "the suffering and afflicted poor" and "presided over by able and benevolent physicians," according to The New York Times.  Upstairs were the Sunday school, and a large sewing school.  The church supported the House of the Evangelists upstate, an orphanage, a "Reformatory Farm" near Sing Sing, and five mission chapels.

In the basement of the church indigent locals were fed--what today would be called a church soup kitchen.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

In 1887 Rev. Edward Walpole Warren took over the pulpit from Rev. Stephen Tyng.  But for a while it appeared the congregation would have to find another replacement.   Warren was "imported from London by the vestrymen of the Church of the Holy Trinity in the Fall of 1887," as worded by The Evening World.  He arrived in New York about the same time that John S. Kennedy "engaged a skilled gardener in Scotland to come to America and take charge of his country estate," according to that newspaper.

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

Authorities, citing the Contract Labor Law which banned imported labor, refused the Scottish gardener entry into the country.  In response, Kennedy, "to show the folly of the law," demanded that Rev. Warren be deported as well.  The case ended up in the courts, which held that Warren was, indeed, "an imported laborer under contract," however deemed him a "teacher," an excepted class under the law.

Rev. Warren brought the ire of New Yorkers in general upon himself five years later.  When asked by a reporter why he had not yet sought citizenship, he replied:

I have refrained from taking out papers as a citizen of New York because the city is so wicked and corrupt that I would not wish to be identified with it, even as a voter.  Until it has rid itself of an administration that is vile from top to bottom I will remain an alien.  The entire municipal machine, I believe, from Mayor Grant down, is absolutely corrupt.

On April 10, 1892 a reporter from The Evening World went to services at the "ultra-fashionable" church, in order to speak to Warren who had been elusive since his remarks.  He proved no easier to pin down in person.  

"Positively, no! I cannot be interviewed!  You must excuse me; I am too busy," he told the reporter.  He then "dropped into a pew and into a chat with one of his female parishioners, who had remained after the service."  The writer noted, "Dr. Warren, who has drawn a handsome salary and lived quite elegantly in this modern Sodom for nearly five years, only waved his small fat hand in a 'do go away' gesture, and the reporter withdrew."

The uncomfortable meeting had taken place in a newly renovated sanctuary.  Eidlitz's amphitheater configuration was completely remodeled.   The New York Times, on February 15, 1892, explained, "The old interior reminded one of a big concert hall.  It was elliptical in shape, and the acoustic properties were abominable."  The new motif was Gothic, according to the article, "and the result is a dignified and ecclesiastical house of worship."  The newspaper noted, "The cost has been very heavy."

Among the most notable additions was a memorial reredos donated by Mrs. Clara Bacon.  The New York Times said, "It is the largest mosaic and one of the most artistic ever placed in the United States."  The central panel, Our Blessed Lord Enthroned, was 14-feet high.  The vast work was executed by Charles R. Lamb, of J. & R. Lamb.

The remodeled, Gothic-style interior.  Clara Bacon's short-lived reredos is clearly visible.  original source unknown

The "very heavy" cost of the remodeling added to the already deep debt the congregation suffered.  It was the financial straw that broke the back of Holy Trinity.   Only two years later the Journal of the One Hundred and Eleventh Convention of the Diocese of New York explained, "The heavy debt upon the church had for nine years crippled all possibilities of doing a satisfactory work for so important a church (a debt which had rested on the church ever since its incorporation), and had made families afraid of joining membership with a church so financially embarrassed; and the noisy corner of Forty-second Street and Madison Avenue...had long been a cause of annoyance to the congregation."

Holy Trinity merged with St. James's Protestant Episcopal Church on 71st Street and Madison Avenue.  On November 1, 1895 The Sun reported that the combined parishes had sold former Holy Trinity structure for $900,000 (about $28.6 million today), "and with the proceeds pay off the indebtedness of both churches and erect a new church and parish house."

In its September 1895 issue, Metaphysical Magazine lamented, "...this extinction of churches reaches its climax in the sale of the Church of the Holy Trinity in Forty-second Street...And now this magnificent structure has been sold to a railway corporation."  The following year, in July 1896, The Church reported, "at this writing the very walls of the old...Church of the Holy Trinity, at East Forty-second Street and Madison Avenue, are in process of demolition...A business structure of mammoth proportions will be erected on the site where the conspicuously decorated edifice of Holy Trinity has long stood."

Today the site is occupied by the 93-story One Vanderbilt skyscraper.

photo by Sean Shang

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The Lost Broadway Tabernacle - Sixth Avenue and 34th Street

At the turn of the last century, the neighborhood around the church was no longer quietly residential. from the collection of the New York Public Library

By the time evangelist Charles Gradison Finney preached his first sermon in New York City around August 1829, he was renowned.  Affiliated with no church, his no-nonsense sermons struck home to many among his audiences.  In 1900 church historian Susan Hayes Ward wrote "The hearer at the time felt that Mr. Finney was talking to him personally rather than preaching before an audience...He did not speak about sinners in the abstract, but he talked to the individual sinners before him."

In December 1831 a congregation was organized especially for the preacher, and on February 14, 1832 the Second Free Presbyterian Church was constituted with a membership of 41. It initially operated from Broadway Hall, just north of Canal Street, and then from the former Chatham Garden Theatre, renamed the Chatham Street Chapel. 

From its inception the church embraced Finney's passionate anti-slavery stance.  Black worshipers were welcomed (albeit in a separated section)--a policy which, coupled with Finney's outspoken abolitionist sermons, did not sit well with many outsiders and newspapers.  During the riots of 1833, a mob broke into the church and attacked black members.  On July 8 the Courier and Enquirer spat "Another of those disgraceful negro-outrages &c., occurred last night at that common focus of pollution, Chatham Street Chapel."

The congregation moved into a new structure in 1836, the Broadway Tabernacle on Broadway between Worth and Catherine Lane.  The following year Finney left to teach theology in Ohio.  But he left his congregation a strong abolitionist legacy.  On July 6, 1840 the church was reorganized under David Hale; but it still held fast to its motto "Slavery and Christianity cannot live together."

The Congregational Quarterly later explained "the encroachment of business compelling families to remove up town, made it difficult, if not impossible, longer to sustain a church in that locality; and, in 1857, the Tabernacle was sold, and the last religious service was held within its walls on the 26th of April in that year."

The congregation paid a total of $78,500 for eight lots on 34th Street at the northeast corner of 34th Street and Sixth Avenue, facing what would later be named Herald Square.  It later sold the northern portion for $33,000, making the net cost of the land about $1.3 million today.

In her 1901 The History of the Broadway Tabernacle Church, Susan Hayes Ward noted "In selecting an architect for the new structure the choice of the Building Committee lay between Mr. Upjohn, the architect of Trinity Church, New York, and of Dr. Storrs's Church in Brooklyn, and Mr. Leopold Eidlitz."  They chose Eidlitz, whose plans were accepted on July 17, 1857 "on the condition that the church could be  built for $73,000."  On Christmas Day 1857 the cornerstone was laid "in the presence of some hundreds of spectators, many of whom were ladies," according to The New York Times.  Inside the cornerstone was a Holy Bible, Church Psalmist, copies of the church manuals, and other documents.  A copper plate read:

The Broadway Tabernacle Church and Society,

Organized July 6, 1840,

after the Congregational order of New England, erect this their second house of worship

A.D. 1857-8

Leopold Eidlitz-Architect

As Upjohn most likely would have done, Leopold Eidlitz turned to the Gothic Revival style.  He faced the church in field stone (described as Little Falls rubble) and trimmed it in light-colored sandstone. Its 89-foot front faced Sixth Avenue and it stretched back along 34th Street 150 feet.  The Congregational Quarterly reported "The style of the building is perpendicular Gothic, carried out with a chaste and almost severe simplicity, which imparts an air of grandeur and beauty to the whole structure."  The corner tower rose 135 feet, dominating the neighboring brick and brownstone residences.

The Congregational Quarterly, January 1860 (copyright expired

The church was dedicated on April 24, 1859.  The New York Times reported that long before they were opened, "crowds were pressing in at the doors."  The Congregational Quarterly said "The interior effect is rich and imposing.  Entering from the Avenue, one sees before him a nave 90 feet in length, 34 feet wide, and nearly 70 feet high--a large church of itself...Through the rich oak-hued case of the organ, there are glimpses of the groined ceiling...Standing at the door of the nave, one is struck with the perfect proportions of the house, the admirable simplicity and taste of its details, and the solidity of the whole structure."

 
Keeping the project within the family, Eidlitz's builder brother, Marc, had constructed the church.  The stained glass windows were executed by Henry E. Sharp (whose "Faith and Hope" window from the demolished St. Ann's Episcopal Church in Brooklyn now resides in the Metropolitan Museum of Art), and the organ was built by R. M. Ferris.

from The History of the Broadway Tabernacle Church, 1901 (copyright expired)

A magnificent new venue, of course, in no way changed the political and social stance of the Broadway Tabernacle.   When the Rev. J. A. R. Rogers was "expelled from Kentucky by a mob," as described by The New York Times on February 25, 1860, for his anti-slavery opinions, he was welcomed as a speaker at the Broadway Tabernacle.  He spoke "upon Southern Christianity, the prospects of Freedom there, and the incidents connected with the expulsion of himself and his brethren from their field of labor."

Later that year, on October 8, pastor Rev. Dr. Joseph P. Thompson spoke about the hypocrisy of some New Yorkers.  "Yet now men calling themselves Christians, who gave largely for foreign missions, pretended to doubt whether it was wise, and safe, and patriotic to talk against Slavery as a system of iniquity, and to vote against its extension."  He told the congregation that returning missionaries told him "that they saw men flourishing here in Broadway who at Gaboon had been engaged in the Slave-trade."

from King's Handbook of New York City, 1893 (copyright expired)

Following the outbreak of Civil War, Thompson was even more energized in his sermons.  On September 26, 1861 he said in part "It is necessary to wipe out Slavery, from the South...It is prying upon our vitals, and must be cut out with the sharp edge of the sword."

As had been the case for decades, the Broadway Tabernacle's outspoken abolitionist policy sometimes made it a target, no more so than during the violent Draft Riots of 1863.  The three-day reign of terror resulted in the murders of black citizens, the burning of the homes and businesses of known abolitionists--even the Colored Orphan Asylum on Fifth Avenue where children barely escaped with their lives.  Christian Work recalled on January 24, 1901 "Union services were so frequent in the Tabernacle...that during the riots of July, 1863, the mob was with difficulty prevented from burning the building."

The incident merely steeled Rev. Thompson's resolve.  He later recalled "During the draft, and when treason lurked at the North, your pastor came into the pulpit and said that we must not give it up.  After the sermon, a meeting was held, and funds were subscribed to raise a church regiment."

Thompson realized that declaration of peace could not wipe out racism.  In his sermon of December 7, 1865 he acknowledged "A gigantic system is slow to die; and when injustice has been sanctioned by custom, legalized by the State, shielded by the church; when wealth and family distinction have been founded upon it, and children trained to practice it, and woman has devoted all the passionate energy of her nature to its support, it is not possible that the spirit of justice will die in an instant."  He concluded "One thing was certain--that the people of the South should recognize the negro as being come at last, and they might as well at once make up their minds to it"

More than 2,000 people filed into the church on December 10, 1865 for a memorial service for the 360,000 Union soldiers who had perished.  In his discourse, Thompson detailed both the number of black and while soldiers who had died in the hospitals, on the battlefields, and in the "prison pens."

The neighborhood around the Broadway Tabernacle was highly affluent.  At the eastern end of the block stood the marble palace of Alexander T. Stewart and the brownstone mansions of the Astors.  The wealth of the congregation was evidenced in 1871 when Thompson announced his retirement.

On October 25 The New York Times reported that the congregation had accepted his resignation.  Following the meeting it was agreed to present him with a gift of $52,000, slightly over $1 million today.

The Broadway Tabernacle continued its policy of outreach.  An annual event within the church was the anniversary exercises of the Deaf and Dumb Asylum.  Citizens could see the fruits of the instruction received by the children, who one-by-one got up before the assembly and performed feats like writing on a blackboard or demonstrating sign language.

In 1878 the Sixth Avenue Elevated was erected directly in the face of the church.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

The church supported a number of organizations like the Seamen's Friend Society, the Home Missionary Society, and the Female Guardian Society.  Equally important was the issue of Temperance and the auditorium was frequently the meeting place of the National Temperance Society.    As was common with the Tabernacle it approached the subject differently than most.

It organized the New-York Christian Home for Intemperate Men at No. 48 East 78th Street in 1877.  The goal of the facility was, according to its president William T. Booth, "to save men who were rendered homeless and had lost everything by their appetite for drink."  Once the men were made sober, they were helped to find employment.

The congregation's concern for and inclusion of minorities extended to the highly discriminated against Asian population.  On May 13, 1884 The New York Times reported "About 900 Mongolians, varying in ages from 12 to 30, sat in the Broadway Tabernacle last evening, and took part in the first anniversary entertainment of Chinese Sunday-schools connected with the churches of New-York and Brooklyn...The Tabernacle was red with flags."

By now commerce had encroached on the formerly-exclusive neighborhood.  The Metropolitan Elevated Railway had extended its tracks directly in front of the Broadway Tabernacle in 1878.  With it came stores and other businesses.

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

Finally, on December 28, 1901 The Outlook reported that the Tabernacle had sold its property a week earlier for $1.3 million.  "The purchasers expect to build a gigantic hotel on the Tabernacle lot and adjoining property," it said.  The article noted "in the sale of the Broadway Tabernacle the end is seen of a structure of National significance."

The change in the neighborhood is evidenced in 1901 as Macy's department store rises in the background on Herald Square.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In reporting on the last service held in the church on April 27, 1902 The Outlook recalled Joseph P. Thompson.  "Under Dr. Thompson the Tabernacle occupied its most conspicuous place in our history  It had already been known as a place for the oppressed."

The proposed "gigantic hotel" did not come to pass.  Instead the 11-story Beaux Arts style Marbridge Building replaced the church.  Designed by Townsend, Steinle & Haskell, it survives.

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

St. George's Episcopal Church -- Stuyvesant Square

St. George’s Church was founded in 1749, at a time when the vast majority of Manhattan’s residents were Episcopalian.   Three years later the congregation’s impressive stone church was completed on the corner of Chapel (later renamed Beekman) and Cliff Streets. 

More than a century later a historian would remember “Beekman street at that time was the bon-ton promenade for society people.  The leading church was St. George’s on the northwest corner of Beekman and Cliff street.” 

The church burned in 1814 and was rebuilt a year later.  The wealth of the congregation was reflected in the steeple clock.  It was created by master Roxbury, Massachusetts clockmaker Simeon Willard. 

The restored building in 1815 had lost its tall steeple.  The Plumbers' Trade Journal, 1905 (copyright expired)

The precise workings of the clock made it the instrument by which all New Yorkers set their watches.  In 1868 the Annual Report of the American Institute of the City of New York recalled “There is no attempt at compensation, and yet no clock in the city more than ten years built has gained such a reputation for time-keeping.  Twenty years since a person who had not St. George’s time was supposed to have no time at all.”

The New York Times reminded its readers on November 30, 1902, “Its hands are not as artistic and gorgeous as those that point the time in many of the tower clocks today.  They were made by Simeon Willard, who hammered them out of rough iron at a little blacksmith’s forge in the woods near Boston…So regular was it that as late as half a century ago it regulated the city’s movements, and clocks and watches were practically set by it…It was then known as the ‘Old Town Clock’ and many New Yorkers are alive to-day who remember setting their watches by it.”

As the “bon-ton” neighborhood moved northward, so did St. George’s.   Peter G. Stuyvesant donated land on his estate on what would become Stuyvesant Square.  The New York Times was not impressed with his motives, saying the gift was “made by no means more to improve the value of his surrounding estate than to manifest his deep interest in the evangelical principles on which this parish was well known to stand.”

Although one New Yorker described the location in his diary in 1848 “a howling wilderness;” the northern migration of Manhattan’s wealthy into the area was well under way.  Nearby, Samuel B. Ruggles’ Gramercy Square was quickly being ringed with grand mansions.

The New York Times reported that the cornerstone of the new church was laid in June 1845.  The church elders had chosen architect Leopold Eidlitz; but later added Charles Otto Blesch.  The newspaper later mentioned “The architect is Mr. Eidlitz…Though his original plans were not strictly adhered to, he yet gave to the vestry of St. George’s perhaps the most symmetrical and imposing specimen of church architecture in New-York.”

Three years later, in November 1848, the first service was held while construction continued.

As the structure neared completion in 1855 The Times made note of the cost of the striking complex.  “Another portion of ground was purchased from [Stuyvesant’s] heirs for $10,000 and upon this site, covered by the church, the chapel, and the Rectory, the Vestry have expended and paid about $260,000.  The additional cost of the spires, which are now erecting, with the bells and clock, will make the entire amount $325,000.”  The outlay would amount to more than $9 million in 2015.

Included in the spires “now erecting” was the Simeon Willard clock, salvaged from the old church downtown which suffered the humiliation of being converted to a stable by Phelps, Dodge & Co.  The New York Times, half a century later, remarked “Thanks, however, to the founders of the St. George’s Episcopal Church, it escaped the junk pile, and is now looking out upon the city from the steeple of that church at Second Avenue and Sixteenth Street.”

The magnificent spires soared above Stuyvesant Square -- photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The new church was finally completed in 1856.  Blesch and Eidlitz had produced a monumental brownstone-clad Romanesque Revival structure 94 feet wide and 170 feet deep with stately buttresses, a handsome rose window, and two stunning lacy openwork stone spires.  The Times said they were “the finest spires in the city, with the solitary exception of Trinity Church.  They are open work, and effective yet simple in design.”

Miller’s Stranger’s Guide to The City of New York described it as a “spacious and elegant structure, the most capacious ecclesiastical edifice in this city.”   The guide said “for architectural beauty [it] is entitled to the first rank among the religious edifices of New York.  Its imposing exterior, and vast interior, unsupported by any visible columns, either to roof or gallery, impart to it a fine effect.”

Tragically, just nine years after construction was completed, fire broke out on November 15, 1865.  The New York Times reported “Strenuous efforts were immediately made to save the furniture and fixtures of the church, with very little success.”  Although two “fine gothic chairs” and the prayer books, hymnals and Bibles were removed, everything else in the interior was lost.

The devastation was captured on a stereopticon slide -- from the collection of the New York Public Library

“When the roof fell in the scene for many blocks around was one of great magnificence,” wrote The Times.  “The flames, which for a few moments, seemed to have been subdued, burst forth soon after with greater fury, and all that vast pile of combustible material, including the fine-toned and costly organ, was speedily reduced to ruins.”

The following day only the shell of St. George’s remained.  The Times said the four bare walls, the two towers and spires were “as impressive as any of the monastic ruins of the old world.”   The wealthy congregation wasted no time in rebuilding and just two years later the church was reopened.

The rebuilt interior as it appeared in 1909 -- photo from the collection of the Library of Congress

At the time the church’s rector was the Rev. Dr. Stephen H. Tyng, considered to be among the most notable preachers of the period.   On April 7, 1878 he shocked his parishioners when he announced his retirement at the age of 78 after 33 years with St. George’s Church.  

The Stuyvesant Square neighborhood was changing by the time Tyng resigned.  Waves of German immigrants flooded the area.  But unlike many upscale churches faced with the changing demographics, St. George’s parish did not abandon its church.  Its congregation continued to include some of the wealthiest and most respected names in the city, including Senior Warden J. P. Morgan.

St. George’s Episcopal Church was the scene of fashionable weddings and funerals throughout the decades.  So when the funeral of William H. Borst—a theater  and “sporting” man—was held here on November 2, 1882, it was a noticeably curious.  The New York Times remarked “Such a congregation as gathered in St. George’s was probably never seen within the four walls of a church edifice before.”

The newspaper listed many of the mourners, including politicians, gamblers, theater owners, fighters and others.  Included was “Jake” Somerindyke, “an old and well-known turf gambler;” “Old Bill” Tovee, a veteran sporting man; “Michael Boyle, the oysterman,” pugilist George Rooke; and a host of others who were better known by their nicknames than their given names.

Through the influence of J. P. Morgan, the respected Rev. W. S. Rainsford took the pulpit as rector in 1883.  He gave his first sermon on January 14 that year, after which The New York Times gave its approval.

“He is a young man, about 32 years of age tall, straight as a reed, and of prepossessing features.  His manner is frank and earnest, and his sentences were emphasized by frequent gestures.”  Born in Dublin, he would hold the position for two decades, espousing sometimes shocking views from his pulpit.

Before he made headlines with his sometimes unorthodox social views, he would have to address a disturbing problem within his staff.   In May 1885 50-year old W. H. Pudney was made a sexton of the church.  It did not take him long to bring scandal to St. George’s.

In June a German immigrant, Emil Michel, who lived above his small shoe store nearby at No. 197 Third Avenue, noticed that his 9-year old daughter Eva, was acting strangely.  When he questioned the girl, her answers were initially evasive; but she finally admitted to being abused twice in the church by Pudney.  A doctor’s examination proved the crime.

Eva then revealed that 10-year old Lizzie Speerschneider had also been abused at the same times.   Emil Michel rushed to the home of that girl’s father, Edmund, who ran a crockery store.  The New York Times said “Both are respectable, hard-working Germans.”  A physician’s examination of Lizzie supported the accusation, as well.

Pudney appeared before Justice Patterson in a private examination.  He wore his clerical garb.  Also in the room were Rev. Rainsford and three assistant ministers.  Pudney, who was married and had a family, pleaded innocent and, in fact, said that the little girls “came around the church and I ordered them out.”  Their mothers, however, told reporters that “for the last 10 days the children had frequently come home with bunches of flowers and pennies which they said had been given them by the ‘nice gentleman’ at the church.”

Pudney was held at $2,500 bail on each charge.  The Times reported “He said that his son-in-law would furnish the bail, but the latter failed to do so yesterday.”

Wealthy New Yorkers fled the heat of summer by retreating to fashionable resorts and summer estates.   An early heat wave in April 1881 gave good reason.  The Sun reported on a sermon by guest-preacher Rev. Phillips Brooks of Boston on April 25 in St. George’s, noting “The temperature of the church was oppressively high while Mr. Brooks was speaking, and several ladies, unable to obtain seats or to get to the open air, fainted.”

Rev. Rainsford came up with a startling idea for his wealthy members in 1888.  “St. George’s has a very large membership, among which the rich and poor are about equal in number,” noted The Times.  On May 26, 1888 the newspaper reported that Rainsford had pointed out that the poor “would be compelled during the Summer months to live in unhealthy tenement houses, for which they would pay heavy rents.  On the other hand…his wealthy parishioners were already preparing to leave the city for the heated term to enjoy fresh air, cooling breezes, and the various comforts and delights of the mountains seaside, and lakes.”

The millionaire congregants were given a Christian challenge.  Rainsford suggested that they allow poor families to live in their mansions during their summer absence.  A committee of ladies was put in charge of selecting reliable, needy families who would not only enjoy the luxury of the lavish surroundings, but would act as caretakers.

“When the family is placed in possession of the house the woman is instructed in her duties.  They are usually to keep the premises in order, have a sharp eye for burglars and sneak thieves, and keep the sleeping apartments in constant readiness for occupancy against the sudden return of any of the family to town.”

Although the Rev. Dr. Rainsford did not support gambling and drinking, he realized that strict laws against them were impractical and actually fostered criminal behavior.  A single sentence in the New-York Tribune on December 11, 1889 was merely a hint of things to come.  “The Rev. W. S. Rainsford, rector of St. George’s Episcopal Church, was fined $25 for violating the game laws.”

In the meantime, he worked steadfastly to extend the work of St. George’s within the impoverished tenement district nearby.  On November 11, 1892 The Times remarked “The growth of St. George’s Protestant Episcopal Parish has been extraordinary in recent years.  Under the vigorous activity of the Rev. W. S. Rainsford’s rectorship the scope of the church work has been steadily extended, until now it embraces a score or more of important missionary, educational, and relief features.”

The church ran a trade school for boys; a Men’s Club that included a gymnasium, bathing rooms, smoking and reading rooms; a Girl’s Friendly Library; a Deaconesses’ House, where the sick and poor were administered to; and a Cottage-by-the Sea at Rockaway Park, Long Island where indigent parishioners were “given a breath of sea air.”

Sadly, the masterful, lacy stone spires were deemed unsafe in 1888 and taken down in 1889; leaving the towers blunted.

photograph from the collection of the Library of Congress

The first real issue regarding Rainsford’s unusual stance on liquor came about in 1893 when he approved Moore & Tucker’s saloon “right in the immediate neighborhood of his church,” as described by the New-York Tribune on December 11.  The newspaper said “Much talk has been caused lately” by the move.

“The condition which Dr. Rainsford exacted was that no women should be admitted into the liquor store, and that no children should be served with drink.  Dr. Rainsford exacted as a guarantee of good faith a bond of $1,000 from the proprietors, to be forfeited in case they failed to comply with the provisions of the contract.”

The debate would simmer for years, causing Senator John Raines to say in 1901 that “Rainsford is a type, who in the livery of Heaven serve only the devil.”  The minister explained his stance saying, “I am opposed to the saloons; I wish we could shut them all up.  But it’s simply the worst sort of nonsense to believe that in a city which, next to Berlin, is the greatest German city in the world, we can shut up the saloons on Sunday.  You can’t shut up the saloons and give the people nothing for it.”

Rainsford said that Sunday liquor laws simply led to illegal operations and “under the present system children are taught to violate the law.  That’s a very bad example to set.  It also opens the door to blackmail; that’s another very bad side of the subject.”

That same year Rainsford took to the pulpit to decry the Tammany Ring.   The New-York Tribune, on October 18, 1901, reported “With the utmost courtesy, but with an eloquence that carried conviction to the hearts and the vast congregation that filled every available space in the church, Dr. Rainsford bitterly arraigned the present administration, and characterized its rule as one of blackmail and tyranny.”

A view towards the organ gallery on May 23, 1927.  photo by Wurtz Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

With Grace Church and Trinity Chapel, St. George’s continued to be the scene of New York’s most fashionable weddings.  Along with J. P. Morgan (the press routinely referred to St. George’s as “Mr. Morgan’s Church”) millionaire Robert Fulton Cutting served as an elder.   The wedding of his daughter, Helen, to Lucius K. Wilmerding on March 27, 1905 was one of the social events of the year.   The elite status of the bride was reflected in the names of her wedding party.  The New-York Tribune noted “She was attended by eight bridesmaids, Miss Alice Roosevelt, Miss Gwendolyn Burden, Miss Violet Cruger, Miss Caroline Wilmerding, Miss Jessie Sloane, Miss Caroline Drayton, Miss Muriel Robbins and Miss Elizabeth Cutting.”

When Dr. W. S. Rainsford resigned the following year, The Sun took the opportunity to point out that St. George’s and Grace Church had survived the drastic changes in their neighborhoods.  “Both of these churches are of the ‘downtown’ class, and as such seemed destined to decadence.  The fashionable congregations whose dwellings were once in their neighborhoods have moved away in very great part.  Since that withdrawal, too, the population of the East Side has changed from German and Irish into Jew and Italian  Instead of falling back, however, these two parishes have greatly increased their strength and mainly by the means of the parochial institutions through which they have sought to bring social improvement of their neighborhoods.”

Perhaps no funeral in St. George’s Church was more prominent than that of J. Pierpont Morgan on April 14, 1913.  Morgan had written out his own funeral instructions, which were followed to the letter and marked by “extreme simplicity,” as reported by The Times.   Approximately 1,500 were in the church, while the park outside was packed with onlookers.  The floral arrangements included tributes from the German Emperor, the King of Italian and the Governments of France and Italy.

The most shocking event to take place in St. George’s Church occurred on Sunday morning, April 18, 1920.  After Dr. Karl Reiland’s sermon, the vestrymen moved down the tile-floored aisles with the silver collection plates.  Among them were Herbert Satterlee, the son-in-law of J. P. Morgan, and Dr. James Wright Markoe, Morgan’s former physician.

The following day the New-York Tribune reported “As Dr. Markoe bent to present the plate to the occupants of the red plush cushioned, oaken pew, twelfth from the rear, a shabby, round-shouldered little man who was seated there drew a revolver, instead of the expected contribution, and shot the physician in the head.”

At first few realized what had happened.  The choir continued to sing and the organ to play.  “The collection salver fall from his hand with a crash, and gold and silver coins rolled in all directions.”  As the murderer headed for the door, several congregants rose to their feet.  In the meantime, Dr. Reiland rushed to Dr. Markoe.

Satterlee blocked the man’s escape route, holding the collection plate in front of his chest as a sort of armor.  The man fired a bullet directly at him, which grazed Satterlee’s beard and embedded itself into the paneling.   He fired two more times, causing the men in the foyer to drop to the floor.

The assassin made in nearly through Stuyvesant Square before the congregants overpowered and disarmed him.  Thomas W. Simpkin was arrested and charged with three counts—murder in the first degree for the killing of Dr. Markoe, and assault in the first and second degrees for wounding Dr. George E. Brewer who wrestled the gun from Simpkin.

Simpkin confessed that he had initially meant to kill J. P. Morgan but chose Markoe when he realized Morgan had been dead for seven years.   On May 3 he was committed to the Asylum for the Criminal Insane at Matteawan, New York  A lunacy commission had reported that his “mental condition is now such that he could not defend the murder indictment against him, and that when he slew Dr. Markoe his reason was so defective that he did not know his act was wrong.”

The forward thinking tradition of St. George’s continued in the Rev. Karl Reiland, who had been rector about seven years at the time of the murder.  Among his congregants was Mrs. Margaret Sanger, pioneer birth control advocate.  On March 1931 the Federal Council of Churches of Christ in American gave “guarded approval” to birth control.  Afterward, The New York Times reported that Reiland “expressed pride in the fact that Mrs. Sanger is a member of his congregation, calling her a ‘a remarkable woman.’”  He called the committee’s decision “a very farseeing and necessary observation, and one with which I am in hearty sympathy.”

The Stuyvesant Square neighborhood continued to see change throughout the 20^th century.  But the staid brownstone church remains unchanged.  It was among the first of the new Landmarks Preservations Commissions designations, in 1967.  The façade received a well-deserved restoration in 1980, and the Simeon Willard clock continues to keep time as it has for two centuries.

photographs by the author