Robert Maynicke's 1903 130-132 Fifth Avenue

 

image via loopnet.com

In 1874, piano maker Chickering & Sons invaded Manhattan's mansion district by erecting a piano showroom and concert hall on the northwest corner of Fifth Avenue and 18th Street.  For nearly three decades Chickering Hall would be one of the city's foremost music venues.  But at the turn of the century, the entertainment district and its wealthy patrons had moved northward.  The last concert in Chickering Hall took place in 1901.

Soon afterward, on December 8, The New York Times reported, "A new mercantile structure will soon rise on the site of Chickering Hall."  The venerable concert hall was razed and in 1902 excavation for the foundations of an 11-story business building began.  Developer Henry Corn was busily transforming the district from private homes to loft and office buildings.  He hired Robert Maynicke, of the architectural firm of Maynicke & Franke, to design the structure.  The two men had a close relationship and Maynicke, in fact, was simultaneously designing a similar 11-story building four blocks to the south at 84-90 Fifth Avenue.

Maynicke filed the plans on April 4, 1902, placing the construction cost at $600,000--about $22.6 million in 2025.  A month later, the excavation became the site of tragedy.  On May 27, 1902, an excited crowd of viewers crammed the area to view a parade welcoming the Rochambeau Delegation to the city.  (The group of distinguished French Governmental representatives and military figures were in the U.S. to dedicate a memorial to Jean-Baptiste-Donatien de Vimeur, Comte de Rochambeau, in Washington.)  The New York Times reported, "About 100 persons...were precipitated to the bottom of the deep excavation on the site of Chickering Hall...shortly after 6 o'clock last evening by the collapse of a large section of a temporary bridge or sidewalk thrown across the front of the pit."  One man died instantly and “at least fifty were so seriously injured that they either had to receive medical attention on the spot or else were driven away in carriages,” said the police report.

The structure was completed in 1903.  Maynicke disguised its steel frame skeleton by placing heavy, rusticated piers along the three-story base--mimicking load-bearing masonry construction.  There were two entrances on Fifth Avenue.  One accessed the upper floors and the other the ground floor store.  The northern entrance sat within a striking portico of polished granite columns upholding a Renaissance inspired hood.

The upper floors were clad in tan brick and trimmed with stone, their corners distinguished with stone quoins.  Typical of Maynicke's style, the windows of the eighth and ninth floors were arranged in stacked groups.  They sat within Gibbs-style elliptically arched frames.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The building filled, mostly, with apparel-related firms.  Among the first was Stein-Bloch Co., a wholesale tailor which had operated for years at 718-720 Broadway.  In its March 1903 issue, The Clothier & Furnisher reported that the firm's loft, "is being fitted up in the most artistic manner, and when completed will be models of convenience and attractiveness."

The Clothier & Furnisher, March 1903 (copyright expired)

Other initial tenants included Marks Rosenberg & Bros., lace and millinery importers; Burr & Hardwick, dealers in trimmings; and the dry goods firm of P. K. Wilson & Son.  Decidedly not part of the apparel industry was S. Sanford & Sons, which sold floor coverings.

Burr & Hardwick included a rendering of the new building in its moving announcement.  Dry Goods Reporter, January 3, 1903 (copyright expired)

Marks Rosenberg & Bros., which was based in Paris, was described by The Evening World as "one of the largest millinery importing houses in America."  It consisted of Jules, Hugo, and Max Rosenberg.  (Max managed the Paris concern.)  

Jules and Hugo Rosenberg were drawn into an uncomfortable position in the spring of 1905 when Parisian-born traveling  salesman Hugo Jacobson committed suicide by shooting himself in the head at the Hotel Breslin.  Before doing so, he mailed a letter to a friend, saying where his body could be found.  He also left a note on the dresser that read, "Mr. Jules and Hugo Rosenberg of 130 Fifth avenue will take care of me and settle everything."

McClure's, October 1908 (copyright expired)

On January 10, 1908, the 12-story Parker Building on Fourth Avenue (later Park Avenue South) and East 19th Street was gutted by fire.  It was one of the first fires in a high-rise building in the city.  The O. B. Potter Trust, which now owned 130-132 Fifth Avenue, quickly reacted.  On January 22, The Sun reported, "Plans have been filed for equipping the eleven story Mercantile Building at Nos. 130 and 132 Fifth avenue with an auxiliary fire extinguishing plant, supplied by a 15,000 gallon storage tank and two 5,000 gallon pressure tanks."  Architect Francis H. Kimball was hired to make the modifications.

In the summer of 1910, the employees of P. K. Wilson & Co. were moved by newspaper reports of 12-year-old Ethel Worbert, who was knocked down by an Eighth Avenue streetcar and hospitalized.  On June 26, the New-York Tribune reported, "The case excited much sympathy, as the girl had been accustomed to lead her blind father to and from the Christopher street station of the Hudson tunnel, where he stands all day and sells newspapers."  The P. K. Wilson & Co. workers, who had little money to spare, pooled their resources for the little girl.  The New-York Tribune reported, "Ethel Worbert received $10 through The Tribune some days ago from employe[e]s of the firm of P. K. Wilson & Co., silk merchants."

Marks Rosenberg & Bros. got less favorable press that same month.  The New-York Tribune reported that Jules and Hugo Rosenberg, "along with their brother, Max, who is the Paris manager of the concern, were indicted...on a charge of undervaluing imports entered at the New York Custom House."  Along with the charge of undervaluing $234 worth of goods, said the newspaper, "there are other indictments standing against them."  Jules and Hugo posted $10,000 bail  each awaiting their trial.  (The bail was significant--amounting to about $341,000 each today.)

When the men did not appear in court in October 1910, Marshal Henkel went to 130-132 Fifth Avenue to arrest them.  But they were not there.  Henkel was told they were out of the city.  The New-York Tribune explained, "The offence charged is one for which extradition does not apply, so that if they get out of the country they will be safe from punishment."

Three months later, on January 23, 1911, The Evening World reported that Judge Hand had declared their bail forfeited.  Having closely examined the firm's books, the Government now placed the amount the men had cheated Customs at $250,000 (more than $8.5 million today).  The article said that Jules and Hugo Rosenberg had joined Max in France, adding, "it has been impossible to coax them across from Paris for trial."  In the meantime, their firm had been placed "in other hands, though there has been no change in the sign."

Finally, a compromise between the Government and the brothers was made and Jules and Hugo returned to America in June 1911 and paid $182,436 on the outstanding duty, and $25,000 each in fines.  

In 1915, original tenants in the building like Burr & Hardwick and S. Sanford & Sons were joined with G. C. Batcheller & Co., a corset maker.  The quality of the carpeting sold by S. Sanford & Sons was reflected in a two-day auction held in the building beginning on April 19 that year.  The Sun reported, "Carpets and rugs valued at $4,500,000 will be disposed of."  The article estimated that nearly 2,000 buyers from throughout the country would be in attendance.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

At the time of the auction, Charles Cheever Hardwick, of Burr & Hardwick, was preparing for his semi-annual buying trip to Europe.  Normally his wife accompanied him on these trips, but this time she was nervous about the ongoing war in Europe.  On May 1, Hardwick boarded the RMS Lusitania headed to Liverpool, England.   Six days later, a German U-boat torpedoed the ship off the coast of Ireland.  Among the 1,198 lives that were lost was Charles Hardwick.

On June 21, 1920, Ralph Cherry, a 17-year-old clerk working for P. K. Wilson & Son, purchased $100 in stamps for the shipping room.  Just as he returned, three men stopped him on the sidewalk and asked about possible work.  Suddenly one of them grabbed the parcel.  Cherry fought back and was stabbed in the back, but refused to release the stamps.  The Evening World reported, "The three men, grabbing clubs that looked like baseball bats, went out into the crowds on Fifth Avenue."

Two policemen came to Cherry's aid.  One stayed with the injured clerk and the other chased the would-be robbers.  One of them was captured at Broadway and 17th Street, and another policeman who had joined the chase overcame a second on 18th Street and Fourth Avenue.  Joseph Gardella and Frank Flanio were both 19 years old.  The knife used to stab Cherry was found on Gardella.  Ralph Cherry recovered from his wounds at New York Hospital.

The building continued to house apparel firms into the 1920s.  In 1921 Sanford Narrow Fabric Co. leased a floor, and in 1924 Belcraft Shirt Company moved in.  That year the Chatham and Phenix National Bank converted the ground floor for a branch office.

photograph by the author

That space became home to a Manufacturer Hanover Trust branch in 1970.  It was followed in the early 21st century by an Express retail shop, and a Duane Reade store in 2022.  Robert Maynicke's handsome 1903 design is little changed, including the ground floor and its impressive Renaissance-style entrances.

many thanks to reader Doug Wheeler for prompting this post

The 1911 Stern Building - 28-30 West 23rd Street

By the turn of the last century the Stern Brothers Department store had been enlarged twice.  It sat mid-block between Fifth and Sixth Avenues on West 23rd Street, the northern edge of shopping district known today as the Ladies' Mile.  The store's tremendous success had necessitated two large, architecturally seamless wings on either side of the original 1878 structure.

Next door was the Queen Anne-style Conover Building, erected for J. B. Conover & Co., a prominent manufacturer of "grates, fenders, fireplaces, wood mantels, and tiles."  Following that firm's bankruptcy in 1893 Stern Brothers expanded into the building; but that, too, proved insufficient.

After J. B. Conover & Co. left their building (left) Stern Brothers pasted its name above the ground floor show windows. The original Stern Brothers store is the central, slightly higher building.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

In 1910 Stern Brothers commissioned the well-known architectural firm of Maynicke & Franke to replace the six-story Conover Building with a twelve-story "annex" that would extend through the block (taking the place of four brownstones on 22nd Street).  Unlike the earlier expansions, the building would make no attempt to meld with the main store.

Entire faced in limestone, the annex, was completed in 1911 and towered over the main store.  It flexed its individual personality with monumental, two story columns at street level.  Their colossal size, intricately decorated fluting and ornate Scamozzi capitals provide a stately presence.  A full-width stone balcony above the third floor introduced the relatively unadorned central section.   Smooth, engaged columns at the 11th and 12th floors support the heavy brackets of the slightly arched cornice.

The dignified structure cost more than $18.5 million in  today's dollars.  It came with another horrible expense as well--the loss of a worker's life.   James Thompson was doing electrical work as the building neared completion on May 19, 1911 with a mason on the seventh floor lost his grip on a brick.  The Sun reported "The brick from the seventh floor smashed his head and he died before an ambulance arrived."

The wider 22nd Street elevation is understandably less grand.

Even before plans were laid for the annex Stern Brothers was well aware that department stores were abandoning the Ladies' Mile.  The migration had started when Roland H. Macy announced plans to move to Herald Square in 1901.   Therefore, according to the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide in 1913, "The new building was of the loft construction type, as it was recognized that a removal would probably soon be advisable."

And, indeed, a removal was soon to come.  In August 1913 Stern Brothers announced it would be relocating to 42nd Street.  Within the year the firm had hired Starret & Van Vleck to alter the the relatively new annex "for loft and store purposes."  The extensive renovations--including removing the excessive elevators (necessary to a department store but not a loft building), adding new beams, reinforced concrete floors and iron staircases--took a year to complete.

Now called The Stern Building, the remodeled structure quickly filled with tenants.  Walker & Heisler signed a lease for the store and basement--fully 50,000 square feet, in July 1915.  The well-known carpet store had been on East 16th Street for many years.  The $16,000 annual rent was substantial--more than $33,500 per month today.

A major tenant was Chicago-based mail order firm Montgomery Ward & Company.  In May 1915 it leased the eighth through the 11th floors for its buying offices and factory space for its "women's wearing apparel and millinery."

Another well-known tenant would be the W. T. Grant Company, which signed a lease in June for the fourth floor.  The firm operated "25-cent department stores" nationwide.  The Record & Guide reported "The space will be used for general offices and for the buying and distributing of merchandise."

Another of the intial leasers was the World's Market Corporation, which took the 12th floor and subsequently simplified and revamped buying trips of out-of-town merchandise buyers.   Now, rather than rushing from building to building, buyers could visit 75 showrooms in one location.   The World's Market was opened in March 1915.

The American Angler explained a few weeks later, "The floor is laid out with rows of big, roomy, mahogany showcases, equipped with easy rolling glass doors.  A buyer may examine any garment in a moment and replace it so that it is always fresh and clean.  On the 22d Street side of the floor is a series of private booths occupied by manufacturers who prefer to show their goods in private.  The booths are elegantly furnished and most of them have mirrors and wardrobes."

A 1915 advertisement blurred the abutting buildings--an early form of photo-shopping. Dry Goods Economist, February 6, 1915 (copyright expired) 

Because the sales staff was furnished by World's Market Corporation, not the manufacturers, the buyers were not pressured.  "Our salespeople display the lines you want to see, without preference," said an ad.  On March 14, 1915 The New York Times supported the claim, saying "The merchandise is shown and the orders are taken by the sales force employed by the corporation.  In other words, there are no commissions paid by manufacturers to tempt the sales force to thrust goods on the buyers."

At the time Americans were just getting used to paying the new Federal Income Tax, ratified in 1913.  Now the Stern Building received an unexpected tenant.  The New-York Tribune reported on September 18, 1919 that the second floor had been leased to "the United States Government, Department of Internal Revenue."

The department not only oversaw the collection of income tax, but the enforcement of Prohibition.  The State Director of Prohibition, Charles R. O'Connor, shared the second floor with the Federal agents.  His office was responsible for, among other things, "the granting of many permits of one kind or another," according to The Sun on February 22, 1920.  "It is at this office that physicians and druggists are given their permits, as well as the manufacturers who want to use non-beverage alcohol."  O'Connor's agents also did investigations, making sure, for instance, that a hair-tonic manufacturer was using his alcohol for hair-tonic.

The Federal offices were understandably besieged at tax time.  On February 15, 1920 the New-York Tribune reported "The Collector is prepared to handle a flood of returns in the next four weeks--the last day for filing returns is March 15."  The office anticipated "close to $1,500,000,000" in payments, according to the article.

Later that year the IRA moved downtown.  In 1921 the Stern Building received several new tenants, including A. Barsa & Bro., manufacturers of silk kimonos, which took two floors; the Dexter Folder Company, which leased space for its executive offices and showroom; and the Reuben H. Donnelly Corporation, which took the fifth floor.

Although the Reuben H. Donnelly Corporation published a variety of items, it was best known for its Classified Telephone Directory--later known as the Yellow Pages.  It would remain in the building throughout the 1920's, as did the W. T. Grant Company and in the Walker & Heisler carpet store.

As disturbing changes in German politics were taking place in the 1930's, the Paris Decorators Corporation had its general offices in the Stern Building.  The interior decorating firm had nine branch stores in Manhattan, Brooklyn and Newark.    In September 1933 it closed its German office.  Seven months later The New York Times ran the headline "Decorators Ban Reich Goods" and explained that the firm "announced yesterday that it had discontinued all purchases in Germany."

For decades thieves city-wide had taken advantage of the fact that workers were paid in cash.  They carefully watched the movements of employees, learning their routines of trips to the bank.  The rash of payday armed robberies during the Depression years prompted the New York Police Department to offer an armed escort around 1934.  The Divineform Brassiere Company, Inc. chose to take its chances.

On July 1, 1936 The Times reported "Shortly after 2:30 yesterday afternoon three men, at least one of whom was armed, followed Max Ladenheim, manager of the company, into an elevator, forced him and five other passengers to raise their hands, took an envelope containing between $2,300 and $3,000 and escaped."   Police officials did not hide their annoyance, telling reporters that The Divineform Brassier Company "had failed to take advantage of protection offered."

At the time of the robbery Universal Camera occupied a floor in the building.  Photography and home movies were a popular national hobby.  The firm not only manufactured still cameras, but had perfected the portable 8-mm. movie camera. 

The company cleverly pushed its Mercury model camera in the summer of 1941 by staging a photography competition.  It offered $1,000 in prizes for the best pictures; the catch being that they had to be made using only that camera.

When the United States entered World War II, Universal Camera Corporation turned its focus on making military binoculars.  Workers were paid $20 to $30 a week for what was termed "war jobs."  The work also exempted them from military service under the Selective Service's "work of fight" order.

Five men hired in the fall and winter of 1943-1944 took advantage of the exemption.   They soon left, taking jobs that earned them much more, but did not bother to notify the Selective Service.  All five were arrested on March 27, 1945 for avoiding the draft.

Following the war Universal Camera Corporation returned to developing and making cameras.  In October 1947 it introduced its new 16-mm. sound projector, the Tonemaster.  It touted the "8-inch dynamic speaker, heavy-duty five-tube amplifier, [and] built-in microphone."

Two years later two employees, David Whittaker and Norma Holt, would be the victims of a bizarre and horrible crime.  The 33-year old Whittaker was the assistant to Universal Camera's president, Otto Githens.  He lived in the London Terrace Apartments a few blocks west on 23rd Street and was carrying on an affair with the married 30-year old Norma Holt.

Norma's mother, Mrs. Elsie Thomas, lived in Hollywood, California.  She received a call from Norma on the night of March 9, 1949.   The call was coming from David Whittaker's apartment and a gun was pointed at Norma's head.  Mrs. Thomas later said "I knew something was wrong when I heard Norma sniffling.  She would never worry me unless something serious was the matter."

Norma's husband, Emory, suddenly grabbed the received.  He told his mother-in-law, "I'm very sorry for what I'm about to do."  Mrs. Thomas told investigators "I pleaded with him, but he said, 'It's too late, mama.'"

Mrs. Thomas then heard a three gun shots.  "I dropped the phone and fell over in hysterics."  She made a frantic call to a friend in New York, telling her to call the police.

The New York Times reported "The scene they beheld when they entered with a passkey from the superintendent was reminiscent of a Hollywood melodrama, except that this was real-life tragedy."

David Whittaker was seated upright on the sofa with bullet wounds to the head.  Next to him was Norma Holt, "wearing a printed silk blouse and blue skirt."  She was shot through the heart and in the head.  "Slumped over a chair and an end-table near the sofa was the body of Mr. Holt, his fingers still gripping the pistol, with a bullet through the heart, fired, the police said, by himself after killing his wife."

Throughout the rest of the century the building continued to house a variety of businesses.  In 1986 the upper floors were converted to offices.  When the Home Depot took over the the former Stern Brothers Department Store building in 2004, it was internally joined with the Stern Building at ground level.

photographs by the author

Maynicke & Franke's 1910 Nos. 52-62 West 21st Street

As the 19^th century became the 20^th, developers Samuel and Henry Corn were heavily responsible for the transformation of Manhattan’s residential neighborhoods south of 34^th Street into vibrant commercial zones. Working together or separately, they bought up groups of once-proud homes and replaced them with modern loft and store buildings.

In December 1899 two receptions were held in the parlor of No. 54 West 21^st Street to introduce Mary Mortimer to society.   Mary’s father, Henry Coit Mortimer, was described by one publication as a “gentleman of the old school.”  There would not be many other glittering social functions in the Mortimer house, however.

Already Sixth Avenue, just steps away, was lined with massive emporiums that earned the thoroughfare the nickname the Ladies’ Mile.  While Mortimer and one or two of his neighbors held out as long as possible, the decline of the once fashionable West 21^st Street block had already begun.

In December 1908 Henry Corn purchased Nos. 60 and 62 West 21^st Street.  In reporting the sale, the Real Estate Record and Guide pointed out “Mr. Corn recently bought…the adjoining properties Nos. 54, 56 and 58, and will erect on the entire plot a 12-sty building, 112x100.”

Three months later The New York Times interpreted the move as a signal for further development of the area.  “That there is good reason to anticipate a further increase in the demand for store and loft space in the great mercantile district south of Twenty-third Street is apparent from the fact that no less keen an observer of conditions in that section than Henry Corn is about to engage in another large undertaking there.”

The newspaper also commented on the ambitious construction schedule—less than eight months from start to completion.  “The old buildings on the plot will not be torn down until May 1, and the new structure will be ready for occupancy on Jan. 1.  In view of some other recent records, this is not a remarkable achievement, but it is another illustration o the fact that with modern methods one of these huge structures may be put up almost as rapidly as the average dwelling.”

The office of Maynicke & Franke released the above rendering in March 1908.  (copyright expired)

Corn regularly chose from among three esteemed architects—Alfred Zucker, Robert Maynicke and Louis Korn.  For this latest project he turned again to Robert Maynicke.   The firm of Maynicke & Franke designed the neo-Renaissance style structure with a sparsely-ornamented limestone base three stories tall.  Vast Chicago-style windows--a Midwestern innovation--admitted a flood of sunlight into the second and third floors.

The seven-story midsection was clad in beige brick, ornamented by a foliate-carved bandcourse with rigid pendants, stone medallions and diapered brickwork.  The topmost two stories were again clad in limestone.  Here was the building’s most eye-catching feature—six stocky cartouches in the form of shields carved with American stars and stripes.

Herringbone-laid brick, a stylized Greek key, a stone band like a foliate fasces, were among the decorative elements.

Six months into construction Lewis, Hurwitz & Co. leased “for a long term of years,” the entire second floor—11,000 square feet.  The Real Estate Record and Guide pointed out that on October 23, 1909, that the entire building was now leased.

One month after the building opened Henry Corn moved on to other projects.  In February 1910 he traded the new structure to the American Real Estate Co. for 33 vacant lots in the Inwood section, far to the north.  The deal translated to about a half-million dollars.

The vast loft spaces initially housed garment factories.  The size of their operations is reflected in the number of workers who toiled at sewing machines and ironing boards.  In 1913 S. Bernstein & Co., makers of “cloaks and suits,” employed 75 men, 16 women, and 2 children between 14 and 16 years old; as well as four office workers.  That same year Blauner Bros. & Co. employed 152 men, 121 women and 10 office workers in the manufacture of “cloaks, suits and skirts.”

Along with other garment makers here in 1915, such as the Genet Petti Coat Company, the misses’ and children’s dress house of S. Phillips & Co., and the Levison Bros. & Nevins firm, was the newly-arrived handbag firm of Lefkowitz & Fisher.  Among the company’s offerings was the leather “Gretchen” money belt which kept a lady’s cash safe from street thieves.

Rosenschein touted they could make better garments here than "in the Ritz-Carlton."  American Cloak and Suit Review, 1916 (copyright expired)

Throughout the first decade of its existence the building continued to house mostly garment factories.  Nevertheless, a few unrelated firms moved in, like the Joseph Roth Manufacturing Company which made stuffed animals and toys here from around 1913 through 1916.  In 1917 there was a total of approximately 1,000 workers in the building.

When Lefkowitz & Fisher moved in in 1915, they advertised their women's money belt, the "Gretchen."  Dry Goods Economist, February 1915, (copyright expired)

The wholesalers of No. 54-62 West 21^st Street routinely touted the location as a selling point.  Rosenschein Bros. advertised “Our location and economy is your advantage, and Morris Millard’s slogan was “Merchandise brings them to Twenty-first street.” 

Like so many of the tenants, Morris Millard manufactured cloaks and suits here.  Among his many employees in 1921 was shipping clerk Joseph Kaplon.  His position offered the 22-year old the unusual opportunity to smuggle goods out of the building.

Little by little Kaplon pilfered garments which he sold to Jacob Herzog whose Majestic Cloak Company was a few blocks north at No. 333 Seventh Avenue.  After a year and a half, on February 3, 1923 Kaplon was caught with two dresses valued at $75 each.  In his pocket was a bank book that showed regular deposits of $100 and $200.  The amounts—upwards of $2,500 each today—could not be explained by his salary.

Joseph Kaplon was charged with grand larceny.  During his confession he identified his buyer.  Jacob Herzog was reportedly shocked and astounded.  “Herzog said Kaplon had left the suits with him to look at and he did not know they were stolen,” reported The New York Times on February 7, 1923.

At the time of Kaplon’s arrest the garment district was moving north of 34^th Street.  While some apparel firms held out—the Elk Knitting Company would stay at least until 1931—a new sort of tenant was moving into the building.

The Turbax Corporation was here by 1923.  The firm manufactured a wide range of washing machines.  That year The Electrical World reported it had “developed a washing machine, ‘Turbax,’ which can be placed in a stationary tub, wash boiler, or bathtub.”  Other firms to move in within the decade were the General Slicing Machine Co. and the Adams Grease Gun Corp. 

The building was the scene of a dangerous shoot-out on February 27, 1925.   Policemen responded to a burglar alarm that night.  Unable to gain access in the front of the building, they went to the rear and began climbing the fire escape.

When Policemen Hyman Kasten and William Quinn reached the third floor landing, they saw three men above them at the fifth and seventh floors.  As they pulled their guns, the robbers began firing at them.

“More than a score of shots were fired and in the meantime policemen from near-by posts surrounded the building,” reported The New York Times the next morning.  While cops guarded the entrances, plain clothes detectives began climbing up a second fire escape in hopes of heading off the thieves.  They soon had to duck into a window when they were mistaken for crooks by the cops under fire.

Eventually the robbers ran out of ammunition and jumped into a window where two were found in a lavatory by Kasten and Quinn.  “Underneath their overcoats they wore women’s coats and their pockets were stuffed with socks, silk scarfs and other articles.”

The robbers had apparently been in the building for an extended period.  “Examination of the building showed that rooms on the third, fifth, sixth and eleventh floors had been entered and a considerable quantity of merchandise of the cheaper variety was scattered about the corridors.”

One of the thieves escape, wounded.  The Times said he “evidently climbed up to the roof and then came down the stairway inside the building for a trail of blood showing that he had either been wounded or else cut himself on the window glass, led to the front door.”

In 1964 the first printing firm to lease in the building, Superior Tag and Label Company, took space.  Eight years later a printing company here would find itself in trouble with Federal agents.  On June 27, 1972 The New York Times reported that 10 men had been indicted in Federal District Court on charges of “counterfeiting almost a million dollars in $10 bills and 8-cent postage stamps.”  The indictment alleged that on April 22 that year $500,000 in counterfeit stamps were printed in a plant at 54 West 21^st Street.”

On March 17, 1978 an armored truck of the Armored Courier Service pulled up on front of the building making a payroll delivery to one of the companies here.  The guards entered the building with the sack of money; but were astonished when they walked out to find that the truck with its $149,000 in cash was gone.

The lone driver, Alterber Freedman, had been overpowered at around 9:30 in the morning.  Police found the empty truck a block away on 22^nd Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues.  About an hour later the driver was released unharmed in Queens.

As the Chelsea and Flatiron neighborhoods saw a rebirth in the 1980s, so did No. 54-62 West 21^st Street.   In September 1988 55-year old Gene Young opened Chelsea Billiards in the former retail space at street level.  He told reporters he wanted his 15,000 square foot parlor to “improve the image of the game.”  To do so he carpeted the floors and brought in 44 high-end Brunswick tables.

In the meantime, the former factory spaces upstairs were being taken over by a new type of tenant, as well.  By 1995 Acanthus Books was here, specializing in rare and out-of-print reference books on antiques, the decorative arts and architecture.”

In June 2000 Chelsea Billiards became Chelsea Bar and Billiards; the single word in the name change signifying a noticeable difference.  The New York Times noted it had become “the city’s first billiard parlor with an emphasis on food.”

The following year it became Slate, described by the Native’s Guide to New York as “Not just a pool hall, but a fancy Middle Eastern restaurant as well.  Most pool halls now serve beer and burgers, but this is a notch above.”

In its more than a century of existence, Maynicke & Franke’s handsome loft building escaped major alterations—even the storefronts entered by pool-playing diners appear original.   Unfortunately, rushing New Yorkers rarely, if ever, glance up to take in the patriotic stone shields below the cornice.

photographs by the author

An Arts & Crafts Surprise -- No. 6 West 24th Street

Restoration of the street level was underway in 2014.

In the years just prior to the outbreak of the Civil War, elegant mansions rose along Fifth Avenue north of 23^rd Street.  Madison Square had been officially completed on May 10, 1847 and quickly high-end homes began surrounding the park.  On August 23, 1859 developer Amos Eno opened his lavish Fifth Avenue Hotel at the northwest corner of Fifth Avenue and 23^rd Street.

About this same time Phillips Phoenix had his wide, two-story private stable constructed directly behind the hotel at No. 6 West 24^th Street.  Wealthy and a touch flamboyant, Phoenix was well-known in society.  His keen ability to sense financial opportunity and his willingness to adapt would serve him well as the exclusive residential neighborhood was taken over by commercial interests following the war.

By 1879 23^rd Street was seeing the first hints of the entertainment district which would transform it by the end of the century.  That year Phillips Phoenix joined with Amos Eno to erect the Madison Square Theatre at No. 4 West 24^th Street, abutting the stable.  He also commissioned the architectural firm of Kimball & Wisedell to convert the stable, adding a third story.  Instead of horses and carriages, the building now housed theater offices and dressing rooms for the thespians.  One year later the architects obliterated the utilitarian roots of the structure by designing a commercial façade.

The former stable (right) had received an additional floor when this photo was published in 1893.  A Trip To Chinatown, which was playing at the time, would run for over 700 performances.  Kings Views of New York City 1893 (copyright expired)

Sharing space in the 25-foot wide building, at least for one year in 1882, was the publishing firm of G. P. Putnam & Sons.   In the meantime, Phillips Phoenix enjoyed his wealth and social status, maintaining a country home in Tuxedo.   It was there on December 3, 1886 that Phoenix took possession of his new 31-foot ice yacht “to be used this Winter on Tuxedo Lake,” reported The New York Times.

Kimball & Wisedell's new facade for No. 6 can be seen at the far right of this postcard.

Built in Poughkeepsie by ice yacht builder Jacob Buckhout, it was constructed of oak and mahogany with spruce spars.  The Times deemed it “one of the handsomest yachts ever sent out of Mr. Buckhout’s shop.”

Starting around 1891 the Madison Square Theatre was operated by playwright Charles H. Hoyt and manager Frank McKee, known professionally as Hoyt & McKee.  In January 1894 the pair happily announced “that they have succeeded in renewing their lease of the Madison Square Theatre for a term of nine years, beginning the 1^st of October.  From that time the theatre will be leased directly from the owners, Amos R. Eno and Phillips Phoenix.”

The ornate auditorium of the Madison Square Theatre was depicted in an 1886 program. (copyright expired)

Charles Hoyt told reporters “The theatre will be kept open until the 1^st of October.  The theatre will be closed for a thorough overhauling.  I shall spend a large amount of money in refitting it.  I expect to make it as handsome as any theatre in New-York.”

Hoyt’s plans hit a snag, though.  Two months later The New York Times announced “Hoyt and McKee have decided to close their season at the Madison Square Theatre March 31.”  Hoyt’s hit A Trip to Chinatown had already run for 700 performances and the house was still packed.  But the duo could make more money putting the show on the road than keeping it in New York.  And they did not yet have a “proper class of attraction” to replace it. 

“This will be the first time the pretty little theatre has been closed to the Hoyt plays since Hoyt and Thomas assumed the management,” noted The Times on March 19, 1894.

Within only a few years the theater district would move northward to Longacre Square, later renamed Times Square.    The Madison Square Theatre hung on; but as early as 1903 was renting space to at least one small business, S. B. Goodale & Son real estate, in No. 6 West 24^th Street.  In 1906 Walter N. Lawrence ran the theater and that year he paid the $500 fee for a one-year amusement license.  The license covered both No. 4 and No. 6 West 24^th Street.

But the days of light theater here were quickly drawing to an end.   In 1909 the aging Phillip Phoenix, always willing to adapt to changing times and neighborhoods, commissioned the well-known architects Maynicke & Franke to renovate No. 6 into a restaurant with an apartment on the top floor.

The architects turned to the Arts & Crafts style which rejected the busy, over-decorated designs of the Victorian era.  More visible in suburban residential structures, the Arts & Crafts style arrived on West 24^th Street as a delightful surprise.

The gape-mouthed lions' heads originally held the supports of a canopy.

Brick side piers with recessed panels rose to a deeply overhanging cornice supported by truss-like brackets.  They embraced a cast metal façade enhanced by plain, geometric recessed panels.  The openings, three to a floor, were nearly floor-to-ceiling and flooded both the upstairs apartment and the second floor dining room with daylight.  Two snarling lion heads originally upheld a marquee or canopy that sheltered patrons from direct sunlight or bad weather.

William H. Lubold’s restaurant took over the two lower floors.  Variously listed as “Lubold’s Café & Restaurant” and “Barbers Café & Grill” over the years, it was a favorite luncheon destination for the businessmen now working in the bustling Madison Square neighborhood. 

The second floor dining room was rented out for special parties and groups.  One of these was the Lumbermen’s Club.  The club called itself “strictly a dining and social organization.”  Dues were $50 a year for New Yorkers and $20 for non-residents--rather steep $100 per month expense for the city dwellers by today’s standards.  Although supposedly social, officers admitted that the club helped men in the lumber industry “meet and transact business.”

Although the Lumbermen’s Club moved to the nearby Hoffman House Hotel a year later, other organizations made ample use of the dining room in Lubold’s.   On March 16, 1918 the New-York Tribune reported on the first anniversary celebration of the Erie Club held here.

Founded in 1917 out of a rather odd concept, it was formed “by New Yorkers who came here from that bustling little Pennsylvania city,” explained the Tribune.   “The club meets on the first Saturday of each month.  The next meeting is to be known as ‘Ladies Night,’ and the club wants as many Erie girls as it can locate to be present.”

William Lubold died in July 1920 “quite suddenly…from diabetes.”  His obituary noted “The restaurant was patronized quite extensively by members of the trade in the Fifth Avenue Building and that vicinity, all of whom will regret to learn of Bill Lubold’s passing.”  The article mentioned that the business would be continued by Lubold’s sons, Howard and Wilbur.

The remarkable little building continue to house a restaurant on the first floor throughout the rest of the century.  In the 1970s the two upper floors were used as a photo studio.   A some point the street level was obliterated through misguided modernization.

Somewhat surprisingly, a 2013 renovation resulted in the sympathetic reconstruction of the lost architectural details of the first floor.   A restaurant continues to operate here.  The Arts & Crafts building with its long and varied past, nearly lost among the tall loft buildings on the block, is a delightful architectural surprise.

photographs by the author

The "Rock Building" -- No. 315 Fifth Avenue

Like many of the staid brownstone mansions on Fifth Avenue below 34^th Street, No. 315 had fallen victim to commerce by 1889.  The New York branch of the Parisian art gallery M. Durand-Ruel had moved into the old house.  That year the firm offered “Old Masters of the French school of 1850 and of all the modern artists, including the finest paintings of the Impressionists.”

Only two years later a more utilitarian showroom was in the building, that of the Wood Mosaic Co., whose factory was in Rochester, New York.  The company sold upscale “hardwood floors, from plainest strips of quartered oak to most elaborate inlaid work, using suitable foreign and domestic woods.”

By March 1894 Mathias Rock, who went by the Anglicized "Matthew," operated his merchant tailoring shop here.  The Sun called him “among the best known of the New York tailors.”  Unlike other tailors, “merchant tailors” owned their businesses, supplied the fabrics and created custom-made apparel, most often for the carriage trade.  Merchant tailors were the male equivalent of the high-end dressmakers who also set up shop in the former mansions.

Rock’s successful apparel business earned him a fortune and by the turn of the century he was investing heavily in Manhattan real estate.  On January 19, 1905 The Sun reported that he had leased for 21 years the four-story building where he had operated for a decade. 

Five months later, on June 16, The New York Times announced that Matthew Rock and real estate developer Henry Corn planned an 11-story building on the site.  Corn had signed a 21-year lease on the property, beginning May 1, 1907 with an aggregate rental of nearly $1 million (in the neighborhood of $1.2 million a year today).

Corn’s architects of choice for some time had been Maynicke & Franke.  The firm was chosen for this new building as well.  Newspapers drew comparisons of the proposed designs to the newly-completed Reed & Barton Building diagonally across the avenue (also designed for Corn by Robert Maynicke).  And yet the completed structure would be more reminiscent of Maynicke’s 1898 Sohmer Piano Building ten blocks lower, at No. 170 Fifth Avenue; also built by Henry Corn.

Little was done for six months.  But finally in December the Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide announced that Maynicke & Franke had started the plans, which would be ready “for figures in about a month or six weeks time.”  The guide listed the upcoming contracts for “limestone, brick, terra cotta, plate glass, tile roof, electric elevator, steam heat, electric lights, concrete arch floors, etc.”

As construction got under way, leases were signed.  The most highly-sought tenant would be the ground floor retail space—the face of the new building.  Henry Corn was no doubt delighted when Brentano’s bookstore signed a lease in May for the first through third floors, plus the basement.  “Brentano’s will move from Union Square to 5^th ave. about February 1, 1907,” reported the New-York Tribune on May 13, 1906.

As was the case with the Sohmer Building, Maynicke & Franke was challenged with creating a proportionate, attractive structure on an extremely narrow plow--28.9 feet wide on Fifth Avenue by 150 long down East 32^nd Street.  And as he had done before, Maynicke succeeded.  The structure, completed early in 1907, was light and elegant.

The triparte design featured a three-story base of rusticated piers filled with vast cast iron show windows.  Here patrons of Brentano’s would find the showrooms filled with light.  The six-story mid section above was unadorned until the ninth floor where dripping garlands framed full-floor cartouches on each pier.  Below the cornice at this level, stunning foliate swags and wreaths wrapped the building.  The topmost section featured heavy broken pediments above the clustered openings.  Carved wreaths and shields filled the areas between the pediments.  It was, as newspapers of the day were fond of saying, “an ornament to the street.”

The sumptuous carved swags of fruits and flowers were carried on to the underside of the cornice.

Matthew Rock, expectedly, was among the tenants of the new building; the list of which was exceptionally diverse  The American Cement Company had its offices here, and The Italian School of Languages moved in.  Professor Arturo Sergio offered a “rapid Italian and French Pronunciation Course for singers” and “Special Classes for the study of Dante.”

Although Brentano’s had signed a 21-year lease, they were gone by 1909, moving into the new Brunswick Building on Madison Square.  In its place, somewhat coincidentally, came the Sohmer Piano Company, having abandoned its building at Fifth Avenue and 22^nd Street.  Suddenly No. 351 became known as “the Sohmer Building.”  When Clarence Whitman & Co., dealers in “white goods and laces,” leased a portion of the store and basement in October 1911, the Record & Guide reported the deal “in the Sohmer Building.”

The fruit and flower motif reappeared in the cast window surrounds.

Mathias Rock died on August 9, 1912, leaving a significant fortune to his family.  His son, also named Matthew, took over the tailoring business while Henry Corn continued to oversee the building, renting space to a wide range of tenants. 

Architect B. Hustace Simonson was here at least from 1911 to 1918; while apparel businesses like Nathan Fogg Morrill, “milliner,” and La Rose Brassiere Co., makers of foundations were in the building.  The offices of the American Five and Ten Cent Stores were here by 1915 as was the architectural and engineering firm Timmis & Chapman.

Manhattan’s jewelers had followed the Fifth Avenue residential district and, along with Reed & Barton across the avenue from No. 315, Tiffany, Dreicer & Co. and other high-end dealers were clustered just above 34^th Street.  Gold- and silversmiths like William Burkley and Woods & Chatellier operated from No. 315 by 1916.  They fashioned expensive items for these retailers to the north.

Woods & Chatellier employed 25-year old Frederick Zwack as an engraver.  Occasionally he would assist one of the salesmen in carrying heavy sample cases to retailers.  In the fall of 1916 he became romantically involved with a woman and the two decided to move in together.  Edwardian proprieties did not approve of unmarried cohabitation; and so on October 1 when they took a room in I. E. Brown’s boarding house, they called themselves “Mr. and Mrs. White.”  Mrs. Brown described the girl as a “good-looking young blonde.”

Things went alright in the relationship until early in December when the couple had a serious argument.  On Tuesday December 12 Mrs. Brown entered the “White’s” room and noticed that all his personal property had been removed.  That night was the last time she saw Frederick Zwack.  The blonde woman stayed until Thursday, and then she too left.  It was the end of Frederick Zwack’s brief love interest and only the start of his troubles.

On the morning of Friday December 15, salesman Edward W. Childs loaded a sample case with gold and platinum articles to take to Tiffany’s and then to Black, Starr & Frost’s.  The case weighed about 60 pounds, so he asked Zwack to help him.  They arrived at Tiffany’s where Child’s wrote out an order.  Because of the holiday crush, he decided to rush the order back to the office and instructed Zwack to continue to Black, Starr & Frost’s where he would meet him.

As Childs headed south in the snowstorm, Zwack lugged the case in the opposite direction.  In it were “45 gold vanity cases, nine gold and platinum cases, 26 gold cigarette cases, striped with platinum, two gold match boxes, one gold and platinum match box, seven green and gold match boxes, heavily carved, and three heavy gold gem caskets.”  The wholesale value was placed at $20,000—nearly half a million dollars today.

An hour later Child’s arrived at Ball, Starr & Frost’s where he was told Zwack had not appeared.  Thinking that he may have been slowed down by the snow, the salesman waited for two hours.  Then he notified Charles N. Coryell, President of the Woods & Chattelier.  Days later the hunt for Frederick Zwack continued with police concerned that the valuable items would be melted down.  The Evening World said police “developed the belief that his plans for disposing of the articles necessitated the employment of other men skilled in the work of melting the gold into bullion, thereby rendering it beyond identification and so enabling the thief to sell it.”

In the meantime, Charles N. Coryell revealed startling information on Frederick’s background.  “According to Mr. Coryell, Zwack, or White, was formerly a circus clown,” said The New York Times on December 17.

Timmis & Chapman were still in the building at the time and a year later Walter S. Timmis was in the news, not for his architectural work; but for his anti-Suffragist actions.  On June 20, 1917 the Russian mission visited President Wilson at the White House.  Suffragists took the opportunity to demonstrate at the White House gates.  “The result,” reported The Sun, “was a small sized riot, in the course of which a banner containing an attack on the President and Mr. [Elihu] Root was torn into shreds by a crowd led by Walter S. Timmis, a New York architect of 315 Fifth Avenue.”

The offending banner read “President Wilson and Envoy Root are deceiving Russia.  They say, ‘We are a democracy.  Help us win a world war so that democracy may survive.  We, the women of America, tell you that America is not a democracy.”

The standard bearers had just reached the White House gates, moments before the Russian visitors were due to arrive.  They formed an arch with it, so the vehicles would have to pass under it.  “Mr. Timmis happened to be passing and heard the crowd shouting.  ‘It’s an outrage.  It’s treasonable.’”

Timmis pushed himself to the front of the crowd and read the banner.  Incensed, he jumped into the air, grabbing the cloth at the center and ripping it from the frame.  “The crowd then made a rush on the cloth Timmis still held in his hand and tore it into shreds,” reported The Sun.

Along with Matthew Rock, other tailors and apparel businesses continued in the building.  In 1919 Alfred L. Calcott, dealer in woolen goods, was here; as was tailor Charles I. David.  David was excused from jury duty that year in the case of Arthur O’Leary versus Adolph Stern.  “He said he would not trust an enemy alien,” explained The Sun on January 30.  “Adolph Stern, a defendant, is a German.”

Throughout most of the 20^th century, elevators required full-time operators.  The operator in what was now known as the Rock Building gave a carload of passengers a significant scare on September 7, 1920.  The elevator “slipped out of control of the operator at the fourth floor and dropped to the basement,” reported the New-York Tribune the following morning.  There were nine passengers in the car as it gained speed just above the basement level.

“The force of the impact smashed a lamp in the roof of the car.”  Two passengers were injured.  Thirty-four year old Irving Ulrich received cuts and Rose Gaglianom, who worked in the building, was cut on the nose.  The rest, said the newspaper, were “severely shaken.”

In 1931 there were no fewer than six tailoring businesses in the building, two jewelry firms (Fleischman Brothers and the International Gem Company), and several apparel companies.  In 1933 a new type of tenant was here—the perfume plant of 25-year old David Koehler.  The ambitious and creative perfumer sold dram-sized bottles through sales girls and newspaper advertisements at 25 cents each.  The problem was that his perfume bottles were labeled Coty, Inc.  The French fragrance firm was not pleased when it found out about the counterfeit goods.  Their dram bottles sold for between $2.75 and $10 each.

In court on December 11, 1933 he entered a plea of guilty and paid a $100 fine.

As the United States entered World War II the Book and Magazine Club operated from No. 315 Fifth Avenue.  It lured readers of Popular Mechanics in 1942 with an advertisement that read “Your name and address will bring you information how to get any national magazine for one year free.”  Then the following year it turned its focus to the war.

“Men 18 to 45—Are you prepared for the army induction test?”  The Book and Magazine Club offered a “free book” for 10 cents containing questions and answers similar those given on the U.S. Army’s general classification test.  Studying for the test, said the ad, “will help decide your place in the army.  It’s the road to officer training—toward the job you want.”

Somewhat ironically that same year a 19-year old sailor, Fireman Third Class Bernard Smith, stepped out onto the rooftop cornice.  Someone on the street noticed the white naval uniform and before long a throng gathered on the avenue.  “Crowds in the avenue, south of the building, gasped as the sailor spread his arms and manoeuvred a few feet, much as a tightrope walker might,” said The New York Times.  He held an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

Bernard Smith teetered on the brim of the cornice in 1942.

Pedestrians called the police and one pulled a fire alarm.  Traffic came to a halt.  The newspaper estimated a crowd of 2,000 onlookers.  Police cars, an ambulance, a hook and ladder truck and two police emergency vehicles crammed the street below.

Patrolman Frank Deedy and Sergeant James McGuire reached the rooftop.  Deedy tossed his uniform coat and cap to the roof, not wanting to excite the sailor.  When he offered Smith a match, Smith warned “Keep away.  Don’t touch me.”

The sergeant inched closer to Smith whose attention was focused on Officer Deedy.  When he was almost within an arm’s reach Smith turned.  He screamed at the sergeant “Keep away,” and teetered on the brim of the roof.

Sergeant McGuire said to Deedy, “Why don’t you give the sailor a match?”  The policeman understood the ploy.  He tossed a book of matches, purposely letting them fall about three feet from the sailor’s shoes.  As Smith bent to pick them up, McGuire launched himself, pulling the sailor onto the roof.  The crowd below let out relieved cheers.

It was later learned that Smith, who had a wife and child in Belmar, New Jersey, was AWOL from his station on Staten Island.  He had recently returned from a long tour at sea.

Throughout the rest of the century apparel related firms, like Standish Fabrics, were housed here; as was the National Civil Service League, in the 1960s.  The League offered a library of pamphlet material relating to the City’s civil service and personnel administration.”

The façade of Maynicke & Franke’s handsome Rock Building was cleaned and repaired in the early years of the 21^st century.  Their handsome design survives even at street level—an elegant “sliver building” that rarely gets the notice it deserves.

photographs by the author