The 1878 237 East 79th Street

Following the end of the Civil War, development crept northward into the Yorkville district.  Access to the neighborhood was greatly enhanced when the IRT Third Avenue Line opened in 1878.  That year, a four-story double flat (meaning there were two apartments per floor) was erected at 237 East 79th Street.  

Faced in brownstone, it's up-to-the-minute neo-Grec design included a rusticated first floor above a short stoop.  The centered entrance was crowned with a triangular pediment.  At the upper floors, French windows were framed by elaborate architraves that sat upon bracketed sills.  Scalloped lintels with incised decorations upheld prominent molded cornices.   An ornate pressed metal cornice completed the design.

In 1940, nearly nothing had changed to the neo-Grec design, including the charming French windows.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services. 

An advertisement described, "six light rooms and bath, modern improvements."  Among those "improvements" would have been running hot and cold water.  The eight families in the building were middle class.  Among the residents in 1879 were three clerks, Thomas D. Barton Jr., Ashley W. Cole, and George A. French.  

The families were affluent enough to afford at least one servant.  An advertisement appeared in The New York Herald on December 30, 1879, for instance, that read: "Wanted--A girl for housework; two in family; wages, $7 per month."  (The wages were not overly generous.  They would equal $233 in 2026.)

The Lehn family moved to New York City from Easton, Pennsylvania in 1880 and took an apartment here.  Their 19-year-old son, George W., found a job as an "extra gateman" at the 18th Street station of the Third Avenue elevated railroad.  (Gatemen controlled the wooden gates that protected passengers on the platforms.  Gatemen opened them when the trains arrived and closed them before the trains pulled out.)

George had had the job only a short time when his inexperience and the brashness of youth caused his horrific death.  Half an hour after appearing for work on the night of September 7, 1880, he "attempted to cross from one station to the other" by trotting over the tracks rather than cross at street level.  The New York Herald reported, "His foot became caught, and before he could extricate it he was struck by Engine No. 11."  The newspaper graphically recounted, "The whole train passed over him, and his body was shockingly torn and mangled."

At the time of the tragedy, Amos K. Hadley, the former Attorney General of New York State, and his family occupied an apartment here.  Early in October 1880, Hadley notified the landlord, J. P. Huyerman, who lived on Bank Street, that he would be moving out.  The New York Evening Telegram reported, "He, however, was indebted to Mr. Huyerman for a small balance of rent and Mr. Huyerman refused to allow him to move until the amount due was paid."  Hadley told him he had was "about to collect some bills" and he would pay the outstanding money when he received the necessary cash.

On moving day, October 18, Hadley went downtown.  When he returned home he found his family and a guest of his wife imprisoned in the apartment.  The New York Evening Telegram reported that Huyerman had locked the doors and refused "to allow them to leave or to remove any of their baggage until the balance of rent was paid."  Hadley rushed to a police station and had Huyerman arrested for disorderly conduct.

The landlord's obsessive behavior over the outstanding rent cost him.  Justice Smith fined him $10 (about $325 today) and "required him to furnish $500 bail for his good behavior for six months" or serve three months in the Workhouse.  The judge announced, "it was about time that landlords learned that they do not own their tenants, body and soul."  According to the article, as Huyerman was led out of the courtroom he muttered, "We'll see about that."

On September 16, 1889, The Press titled an article, "Very Old And Very Wicked."  The headline referred to 73-year-old resident Joseph P. Snow, whom Police Inspector Thomas F. Byrnes described as "one of the most notorious 'fences' in the country."  Snow was a slippery fellow.  The Press explained, "He has been arrested dozens of times, and although stolen property has frequently been found in his possession he has thus far escaped punishment, with the exception of a term of five years which he served in Moyamensing Prison."

Snow's luck finally ran out.  On September 9, 1889, George Storms, alias Dick Short; William G. Cole, and ex-convict Charles Gardner broke into the J. C. Hecker leather goods factory and stole "several thousands dollars' worth of fancy pocketbooks, bags, etc.," according to The Press.  Most of the booty was stashed at Snow's apartment from which he intended to "dispose of" it.  A week later, after the thieves were nabbed, detectives closed in on 237 East 79th Street.  When Snow saw the detectives entering the building, he "ran into the yard, and, despite his weakness, tried to climb the fence."  Once again, Snow attempted to slip out of his dilemma.  The Press reported, "He is a bland old fellow, and told the Inspector that he did not know the goods were stolen, and promised that all would be returned if he was liberated."  This time the ploy did not work.

Four years later another resident was arrested, this time for a much more white collar crime.  Alexander Eisberg was the general bookkeeper of the State Bank of New York.  On July 21, 1893, the 27-year-old and the bank's paying teller, Carl Abresch, conspired to commit embezzlement.  They manipulated the books by creating false entries to cover up the $1,200 they stole.  When the books were audited on December 7, the discrepancy was discovered.  "Eisberg, upon being accused, made a confession," reported The Evening World on December 15.

John Schwandtner and his family lived here in 1904.  He was the senior partner in Pole & Schwandtner, structural iron contractors.  Paul Pole was essentially a silent partner.  The Evening World explained, "Mr. Pole is a man who saved a little money and put it into [the business] with Schwandtner."  The article said that Schwandtner ran the business and Pole knew almost nothing about how it operated.

That business relationship came into serious play during the construction of the Hotel Darlington.  On March 2, 1904, the building collapsed.  The next day, The Brooklyn Citizen reported that 15 bodies had been recovered from the debris, but grimly added, "The corpses are buried under many tons of structural metal and the work of getting them out necessarily is very slow."

On March 5, The Evening World reported, "The man most wanted just now by the officials who are endeavoring to place the responsibility for the Hotel Darlington disaster is John Schwandtner."  A server had taken a warrant to 237 East 79th Street on the previous morning.  Coroner Scholer, who was heading the investigation, told reporters:

He didn't find Mr. Schwandtner, but he learned that he left the house at midnight with a dress suit case and was evidently going on a journey.  We have not given up the chase, but it looks as though he had deliberately left town to avoid testifying in the inquest into these deaths.

By the time of that article, the body count had risen to 18.  Two days later, the New York Herald reported that Schwandtner had not yet been found, but "his house is being watched."

John Schwandtner was eventually tracked down and returned to New York.  Then, on March 29, 1904, The Evening World reported that a grand jury had indicted Eugene C. Allison, the managing owner of the collapsed building with manslaughter.  The article said, "To the great surprise of everybody, no indictments were found against Paul Pole and John Schwandtner."  

On November 3, 1912, the New-York Tribune ran a column titled, "At Music Studios," and reported, "Richard Loewy, violinist and teacher, whose studio is at 237 East 79th street, is establishing himself as a successful teacher."  The article noted that he "gives his pupils the benefit of his many years of study, and practical experience."  Loewy also coached singers, among whom were sopranos Mathilde Mallinger and Praxede Marcelline Proschansky.

Franklin Lacy Sheldon was "a member of a prominent family," according to The New York Sun.  He was the son of Dr. William Hills Sheldon, an assistant professor of medicine at Cornell University.  Following his graduation from Yale in 1936, Franklin Sheldon moved into 237 East 79th Street.  He found an accounting job, but then lost it in February 1938.

Sheldon's mother, who lived in a duplex apartment on East 86th Street, maintained a summer home in Bethlehem, Connecticut.  She was there on September 10, 1938 when the 26-year-old entered her apartment and committed suicide.  A handyman in that building forced his way into the kitchen, "the door of which had been propped shut with a chair," reported The New York Times.  "He found gas escaping from all the jets of the kitchen rage.  Sheldon was lying on the floor, dead."  Ironically, according to his sister, he was expected to start a new job the next morning.

No. 237 East 79th Street survives as the last remnant of the 19th century on the northern side of the block.

In 1936 the building was updated, however the exterior was left almost entirely untouched.  Then, a renovation in 1970 cut the apartments in half--now four per floor--and the 1878 neo-Grec exterior elements were removed.  The brownstone was slathered with stucco, successfully eliminating almost every hint of the original design other than the cornice.

photographs by the author

William Waring's 1881 104 West Houston Street

 

In 1881, architect William E. Waring designed two identical tenement-and-store buildings on the northeast corner of West Houston and Thompson Streets for separate owners.  Five stories tall, they were clad in brownstone above cast iron storefronts.  A blend of Italianate and neo-Grec styles, their segmentally arched openings most likely wore molded lintels, typical of the Italianate style.  The crisp geometric lines of the cast metal cornices, however, were neo-Grec.  Waring embellished the cornices with triangular pediments topped with anthemions and classical urns.

No. 104 West Houston Street was built by Louis P. Dexheimer and his wife, Julia.  Louis established his "eatinghouse," or restaurant, in the ground floor and there were eight apartments, two per floor, in the upper portion.  An advertisement touted "latest improvements, rent $25."  (The monthly rent would equal $900 in 2026.)

Dexheimer's venture was short lived.  In January 1882, he offered his "neat oyster and dining room cheap."  When he had not sold the restaurant by April 15, he advertised again, saying it was doing "good business" and adding, "$75 will buy to-day; must close by Monday on account of sickness."  (The term "cheap" was accurate.  The figure would translate to only $2,440 today.)

The former restaurant space became home to Charles Reichert's butcher shop in 1888.  He and his wife moved into an apartment upstairs.  They were affluent enough to afford a live-in servant.

In June 1890, 17-year-old Caroline Henneman arrived in America from Germany.  She found employment as a servant in the Prospect Hotel in Newark, New Jersey.  The World said, "becoming dissatisfied with her situation, [she] wrote to her lover, William Burgess, of No. 410 East Fifth street, asking him to procure her a situation."  Burgess talked to Reichert and Caroline moved into their apartment on September 19.

The New York Herald reported, "When she went to bed she was instructed in the management of the gas, with she said she was already familiar."  (Illuminating gas was among the "latest improvements" boasted in the Dexheimers' ad, and its use was unfamiliar to the less urbane.)  On September 22, 1890, The World reported, "Caroline Henneman...a domestic in the family of Charles Reichert, at No. 104 West Houston street, was found dead in her bed yesterday morning with the gas partially turned on."  The article mentioned, "She was to have been married to Burgess next month."

Charles Reichert kept up with technology within his butcher shop and on December 1, 1897, The Butchers' Advocate reported on the "successful gas engine operated refrigerating plant" he had installed in the cellar.  Its engine also operated "a meat chopper and a number of fans and pumps."  The article said the equipment "has proved in every way an economical and paying investment, and Mr. Reichert expresses himself as much pleased with his acquisition."

Two of the cornice-top urns survived as late as 1940.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Harry Neid and his family occupied an apartment here as early as 1905.  He spent time at the Delmonico Club on Broome Street near the Bowery.  Early in the morning of March 26, Neid was playing cards there when police terrorized him and the other patrons with a violent raid.  The New York Times said, "The raid was made with drawn revolvers, after the doors had been battered down with axes."  Neid and 31 other patrons were arrested.

Otto Rosalsky was hired to defend all of them.  He told reporters he would "show that the raid was a political outrage, the place being a social club where some little games were carried on for fun."  Authorities countered his assertion.  "The police say that craps and stuss were going on, with some money on the tables," reported The New York Times.

Charles Reichert's butcher business was highly successful.  He was affluent enough to purchase a three-story tenement building at 166 Thompson Street by 1908.

Although the apartments within 104 West Houston Street were decidedly dated by World War II, the tenants remained middle-class.  Mario Gennaro and his family lived here in 1945, for instance.  They maintained a "one-story bungalow" on South Beach, Staten Island.  

By the early 1960s, a cafe operated by Arthur Giunta, La Casa Di Arthuro, occupied the ground floor space next door.  The name eventually was honed down to Arturo's, a famous Greenwich Village spot for Italian food and pizza.  As Arturo's success burgeoned, it spread into the space that had been Charles Reichert's butcher shop for decades.

At some point, the masonry of 104 West Houston Street was painted, the lintels shaved, and the urns atop the cornice removed.  

photographs by the author

Thom & Wilson's 1884 142 East 79th Street

 

James A. Frame was a prolific real estate developer in the later decades of the 19th century.  On December 1, 1883, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that he would be erecting 18 houses on East 79th Street, 13 at the southeast corner of Fourth Avenue (today's Park Avenue) and five at the southwest corner of Lexington Avenue.  The architectural firm of Thom & Wilson would be designing the two projects.

Completed in 1884, the eastern-most structure, 142 East 79th Street, was clad in brownstone.  Its stone stoop was offset to the west.  Thom & Wilson's neo-Grec design included ornate window frames on the 79th Street side.  They sat on bracketed sills and wore molded cornices supported by corbeled piers.  Below the pressed metal terminal cornice was a frieze of rosette-decorated panels.

An advertisement described:

Southwest Corner of Lexington Ave.; handsome four story high-stoop, brown-stone dwelling, two-story extension, beautifully decorated, hard-wood trimmed; all improvements; on cable road, street 100 feet wide, size of lot 20x102.

James A. Frame sold 142 East 79th Street to John W. Haaren in April 1885 for $35,000 (about $1.2 million in 2026).  Haaren was a partner in the importing firm of Haaren & Meinken, founded in 1865 with Henry Meinken.  Both men dealt in real estate, as well.  Haaren and his wife, Marie, had four children, John William, Henry F., Mamy M., and Lena W.  

On the afternoon of March 11, 1891, John and Marie went for a drive.  The New York Herald reported, "He drove a spirited team hitched to a light side-bar buggy."  At around 6:30, they stopped at the house of a friend on 57th Street near Ninth Avenue.  John ran in "to speak to his friend," while Marie waited in the buggy.  Just as he was leaving, a Ninth Avenue elevated train passed.  The New York Herald reported, "The noise of the train frightened the horses, and they started on the run through Fifty-seventh street."  John ran after them, but fell.  Getting to his feet, he continued the chase.

The panicked horses crashed into a truck at 57th Street and Third avenue.  Two policeman caught the horses and calmed them.  Inside the buggy, Marie Haaren was unconscious.  By the time John arrived (no doubt breathless from his marathon), a neighborhood doctor had diagnosed Marie with "nervous shock."  Based on that, when the ambulance arrived John asked them to take her to their home, rather than a hospital.

It was an understandable decision, but a fatal one.  Marie regained consciousness on the way home, but fainted again.  The New York Herald reported, "On reaching her home she was taken to her room, and almost immediately died."  The 56-year-old had a history of heart problems and, according to the newspaper, "it is thought the fright caused by the runaway brought on an attack of the disease."

Marie's funeral was held in the parlor of 142 East 79th Street on March 15, followed by a service at Immanuel Lutheran Church on Lexington Avenue and 88th Street.

John Haaren sold 142 East 79th Street in 1896.  John L. Jordan converted the basement to a commercial space and the upper floors into three sprawling apartments, including one duplex.  

The store, with the address of 1140 Lexington Avenue, became home to S. Blumberg's drug store while the apartments were rented to well-to-do tenants.  A mysterious woman who moved into the building in June 1903 was Jane Leroy.  The "jewel-bedecked woman" was arrested for shoplifting in a Broadway department store on August 27, caught "stealing doilies worth $23.10," as reported by The Evening Post.  (The value of the lacy heist would translate to about $868 today.)

As it turned out, Jane Leroy was, in fact, the wife of jeweler Henry R. Levi.  They originally lived in Washington D.C., but according to The Evening World, now lived in a luxurious home at 315 East 46th Street.  The couple, it appears, were having domestic problems.  Levi arrived at the stationhouse that evening and furnished his wife's staggering $19,000 bail.

The next day, a lawyer's clerk told the magistrate that "the woman was too ill to appear."  Magistrate Ommen would not have it.  "That's no good.  I'll give you until 11 o'clock to produce the defendant, otherwise her bond will be forfeited," he demanded.  The New York Herald reported, "A little later Mrs. Levi came to court in a carriage.  She persisted in saying she was Jane Leroy, a housekeeper living at 142 East Seventy-ninth."  

As early as 1913, the store space was home to Frederick Bahr's grocery store.  It would become the Planodome Market within a decade.

"St. Peter's" magazine, September 1913 (copyright expired)

In the meantime, William J. Baird occupied an apartment here as early as 1919.  The bachelor was an "athletic instructor," according to the New-York Tribune.  On March 20, he took his  fiancé, Alice Whitman of Brooklyn, to the Palace Theatre.  The night ended badly.  William briefly excused himself during intermission.  When he returned to his seat, Alice told him that Dr. Albert L. Roth, who sat nearby, "had annoyed her during his absence."  The New-York Tribune reported that Baird left his seat "and punched the face of Dr. Albert L. Roth."  He and Alice then started out of the theater.  

Dr. Roth called out to a sailor nearby to stop him.  The sailor held Baird until a policeman responded and arrested him.  In night court, Baird explained his actions, saying, "I lost my temper, but I am willing to apologize."  The New-York Tribune reported, "Dr. Roth, who had lost a tooth, would have none of his apology, and Baird was fined $10, which he paid."

In 1929, architect Lafayette A. Goldstone was hired to renovate the building.  The stoop was removed and a triangular pediment placed over the new, sidewalk-level residential entrance.  There were now offices on the second floor, one apartment each on the third and fourth floors, and two "non-housekeeping" apartments on the fifth.  (The term meant that they had no kitchens.)

The ground-floor entrance to the apartments can be seen in this 1940 tax photo.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The tenants continued to be well-to-do.  The widow of Dwight Morgan Platt and her daughter, Miriam Dwight, lived here in 1929 when Miriam was married to John Merrill Congdon in Sherry's on October 21 that year.  The engagement and the wedding were heavily covered in society pages for weeks.

Wealthy widow Eila Haggin McKee, daughter of millionaire James B. Haggin, moved into an apartment building next door in 1928.  The structures were owned by the same firm.  The New York Times reported, "she missed the flowers that were her hobby on her Summer estate, Blue Blinds, at Smithtown Branch, L. I., so she rented the roof space on the adjoining building at 142 East Seventy-ninth...at a cost of $800 annually."  The article said, "The roof was only a step down from her apartment next door, and she sealed the stairway in the apartment at No. 142 which led to the roof."

The last remnant of James A. Frame's ambitious row, 142 East 79th Street is dwarfed by its neighbors today.

Problems came in 1936 when Eila McKee died.  The New York Times explained that the executors canceled the lease on the apartment, "presuming that the cancellation agreement also covered the garden space."  It did not.  By then, the buildings were separately owned.  The estate was in court for at least three years trying to untangle the complicated issue, which not only dealt with the rent, but the restoration of the internal staircase and access to the roof in 142 East 79th Street.

As early as 1940, Ruth Forster's florist shop occupied the ground floor.  In 1955, it was known as Betty Forster, Inc., the name presumably that of Ruth's daughter.  In the late 1980s, a florist shop, now the Strakes Florists, still occupied the space.

During a renovation in 1974, the residential entrance was moved to the Lexington Avenue side (although retaining the East 79th Street address).  The 79th Street entrance now accessed the store.  The remodeling resulted in offices on the second floor and one apartment each on the upper stories.

photographs by the author

James E. Ware's 1884 67 and 69 Eighth Avenue

 

photograph by Carole Teller

In 1883, developer Pierson S. Halstead demolished the two vintage buildings at 67 and 69 Eighth Avenue, just south of West 14th Street, and hired architect James E. Ware to replace them with two store-and-tenement buildings.  Completed in 1884, they struggled with an architectural dual personality.  Above the residential entrances, flanked by stores, were stone entablatures ornately carved with Renaissance Revival designs.  The style reappeared on the top floor where shallow piers capped with Doric capitals separated the openings.  But sandwiched between, the three-story midsection was purely neo-Grec in style.  Faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone, the windows wore hefty stone lintels capped with molded cornices.

While most tenants were respectable--like William H. Broderick, who lived in No. 67 and was a commissioner of deeds, similar to a notary public--others found themselves in trouble with the police.  

James F. Hyde, who also lived in No. 67, was a "ticket speculator" (known today as a ticket scalper).  He was working the crowd outside the Fourteenth Street Theatre on the night of November 24, 1887 when another speculator, David Stack, showed up.  Infuriated, Hyde insisted that the interloper leave.  The Sun reported, "They clinched, and Hyde, it is said, struck Stack over the head with the butt end of a revolver after Stack had bit his right thumb."  Neither man would sell any more tickets that night.  They were both arrested.

Hyde was assuredly familiar with another resident of 67 Eighth Avenue.  Martin W. Hanley, who lived there with his family at the time of the affray, was the manager of Harrigan's Park Theatre.

Living next door as early as 1891 was aspiring politician Charles Henry Turner.  Born in 1861, he attended Columbia College from 1886 to 1888.  He went into the ice business while campaigning for State Senate in 1888.  According to The New York Times, he "made speeches from the tailboard of an ice cart."  The newspaper said he would become "known throughout the country as 'Turner, the Ice Man.'"

In 1889, after Democratic U.S. Senator Frank T. Fitzgerald stepped down, Turner was elected to fill his place.  He served from December 9, 1889 to March 3, 1891, retaining the lease to his Eighth Avenue apartment.

Charles Henry Turner, Once a Week newspaper 1890 (copyright expired)

Turner hosted a political meeting in his apartment on February 9, 1891.  The New York Herald said, "The Executive Committee of the County Democracy Organization of the Ninth Assembly district met last night at No. 69 Eighth avenue to decide upon the question of a union with the rival New York democracy."

At the end of his Senate term, in March 1891, Turner was appointed Doorkeeper of the United States House of Representatives.  By the end of the year, it had become apparent that keeping the New York City residence was unworkable.  On December 11, 1891, The Evening World said, "Doorkeeper Turner at his home, 69 Eighth avenue...said that he simply came home to arrange for the removal of his family to Washington."

Burns's Undertaking occupied one of the two shop spaces in 69 Eighth Avenue by 1898.  It was taken over by Richard J. Delaney at the turn of the century.

The Xavier, May 1904 (copyright expired)

On the night of November 20, 1910, Richard J. Delaney was riding in the front seat of his hearse and John H. Koenig was driving.  The hearse struck 12-year-old Genni Damborelli at Eighth Avenue and 16th Street.  The New York Times reported, "The boy had his right eye injured and suffered some contusions."  The article said, "The chauffeur was able to stop before the boy was run over."

Delaney put the boy into the hearse and he was taken to New York Hospital.  There doctors diagnosed the boy's eye injury as serious and advised Delaney to take him to the New York Eye and Ear Hospital on Second Avenue.  The New York Times reported, "After the boy's eye was dressed, he was put in the hearse again, while Mr. Delaney went to the West Twentieth Street Station to report the accident."

At the station house, it was discovered that John Koenig had been driving with a New Jersey license and he was detained.  Richard Delaney now took the reins of the hearse and took Genni Damborelli home.  The Times titled its article, "Boy Spends a Happy Hour in the Vehicle Which Ran Him Down," and said he was "apparently enjoying himself."

The Renaissance Revival carvings above the entrances were intact as late as 1940.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Richard J. Delaney sometimes handled the funerals of notable New Yorkers.  On August 4, 1911, The New York Times reported on the funeral of John B. McGoldrick, "for thirteen years Secretary to Richard Crocker, and for a short time Secretary of the Tammany General Committee."  And on the evening of May 17, 1916, the funeral of David Healy, "one of the oldest and most esteemed members of the New York Press Club," was held here.  

Delaney handled a sensitive situation in March 1921.  The bodies of Willis McCurdy, personnel manager of the American Surety Company, and his "young woman secretary, Alice Snowden," as described by the New-York Tribune, were discovered in Central Park.  The murder-suicide strongly suggested an extra-marital affair.  On March 10, the New-York Tribune reported, "The home of the McCurdys [in Astoria] remained closed all yesterday."  McCurdy's wife had taken their daughter away from the city and, apparently, wanted nothing to do with a funeral nor press attention.  McCurdy's brother, said the article, "placed the remains in charge of R. Delaney, an undertaker, of 69 Eighth Avenue, with instructions for shipment to the family home in Philadelphia."

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The Lenox Laundry occupied one of the store spaces in 67 Eighth Avenue as early as 1908.  That year Charles Goldstein, who lived at 318 West 14th Street and was studying dentistry, began sending his linen to the shop.  In February 1909, nine-year-old Edna Carroll, the daughter of the laundry's owner, was watching a Salvation Army "street meeting" when Goldstein approached her.  The Evening World reported, "He persuaded her to come to his room for a letter he said he wanted delivered and promised to give her 10 cents for carrying it."

Once there, Goldstein assaulted her.  The Evening World reported, "The child said that when she got to the young man's room he had held a knife over her, threatening her life if she made an outcry."  Shockingly, Goldstein was not done.  The article said that Edna "was afraid to go home for several hours and meanwhile Goldstein had enticed [12-year-old Fannie Katz] to his room."  Fannie escaped and ran to her mother.  Edna finally had enough courage go home.  The Evening World reported that just as Fannie Katz and her parents left the Charles Street station, "the parents of Edna Carroll arrived."

News of the outrageous crimes quickly spread throughout the neighborhood.  The World reported, "A great crowd gathered before Goldstein's house.  As he was dragged out by the policemen, several men in the crowd sprang forward and struck him down.  Before the policemen could draw their clubs and fight back the crowd, the young man had been kicked and beaten."

On February 17, Goldstein pleaded guilty.  He told the magistrate that he looked upon himself "with loathing" and said, "I must have been drunk or mad when I committed those horrible acts.  I see myself, now, as I must have been then, a creature only fit to be hanged."

The Delaney Funeral Parlors were still at 69 Eighth Avenue in 1924.  At the time, the other space was home to the florist shop of Alfred D. Sickles.

Patrick Mitchell and his family lived at 67 Eighth Avenue as early as 1922.  He listed his profession as a "trucking foreman," but police knew him as "Link" Mitchell, "a member of the 'Tanner' Smith gang when that organization was terrorizing the mid-west side," according to The New York Times.  Patrick was closely associated with Frank Wallace, described by the police as "a thrice-convicted member of the notorious Hudson Dusters gang," according to the newspaper. 

The two gangsters spent Saturday night, August 12, 1922, "from dusk until Sunday dawn cruising about Broadway and the side streets in an automobile, 'looking for a guy,' who was apparently avoiding him successfully," reported The Evening World.  At 2:00 a.m. they arrived at the Café La Vie on West 48th Street (a dining-dancing café).  

At around dawn, Wallace and Mitchell started to leave.  The New York Times reported, "Two bullets in his head, Wallace pitched from the café to the curb and toppled into the street to die an hour later in Roosevelt Hospital."  Patrick Mitchell was one of seven patrons who were detained as "material witnesses."

The slippery Patrick Mitchell avoided arrest over the coming years.  Then, early on the morning of October 17, 1925, detectives raided the Varsity Club at 48 Sixth Avenue and "seized a flask of gin and whisky," as reported by The New York Times.  Two men, Louis Roth and James Dixson, were arrested.  The article said, "As the detectives were leaving with their prisoners, they said, they saw Joseph King, a negro...hand a revolver to Patrick Mitchell."  Both men and Thomas King, "who was standing next to Mitchell," were arrested and charged with violating the Sullivan Law, an early gun control act.

Half a century after Alfred D. Sickles opened his flower shop in 69 Eighth Avenue, a florist still occupied the space.  On December 18, 1978, The Villager reported, "At 12:15 pm on December 9, two men entered the flower shop at 69 Eighth Avenue, pulled guns and forced the manager to turn over $450 in cash and $1900 worth of jewelry before fleeing north on Eighth Avenue.  The manager gave chase, but lost them at 16th Street." 

Two decades later, the McManus Florist occupied the space.

The Villager, February 7, 1996

There are still four apartments per floor in the buildings.  The cast iron piers of the 1884 storefronts survive, however the Renaissance Revival entablatures over the doorways are gone.  The upper floors are essentially unchanged.

photograph by Carole Teller

many thanks to artist Carole Teller for suggesting this post

William E. Waring's 1881 106 West Houston Street

 

William E. Waring was perhaps best known for his tenement building designs.  In 1881, real estate investors Louis P. Dexheimer and Henry Thole hired him to design two tenement-and-store buildings at 104 and 106 West Houston Street at the northeast corner of Thompson Street.   Thole's building, No. 106, would be identical to that of Dexheimer.  Completed within the year, they were faced in brownstone and reflected an interesting mix of Italianate and neo-Grec styles.

The residential entrance to 106 West Houston Street was located around the corner at 164 Thompson Street.  Its handsome stone enframement included scrolled corbels that upheld a classical triangular pediment.  It and the segmentally arched windows were Italianate; however, the incised carvings of the lintels and the geometric lines of the cast metal cornice were purely neo-Grec.  To further confuse the architectural mix, Waring capped the cornices with Classical-style pediments topped with an anthemion, and flanked them with neo-Classical urns.

There were two apartments per floor in the building.  The store became home to H. Reiken's drugstore.  An advertisement he placed in the New York Herald on October 10, 1883 hinted at the neighborhood's demographics:

Drug Clerk (Junior)--That can speak French fluently and has had city experience may apply H. Reiken, 106 West Houston st.

In 1888, Leon Wernert graduated from the College of Pharmacy New York and took over the operation of the pharmacy.  He and Pietro Drureno established a symbiotic relationship when, on November 27 that year, Drureno received a permit to operate a newsstand on the sidewalk outside the drugstore.

Two of the urns on the shared cornice survived as late as 1940.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Tom Turner lived at 64 South Fifth Avenue (today's LaGuardia Place) in 1889.  On the morning of March 27, he came into the drugstore and bought "forty grains of quinine," as reported by The Evening World.  It is unclear why Turner wanted the medication, which was mostly used to treat malaria.  In any case, said the article, he "took all of it on the spot.  It made him feel very sick and he had to be taken home and attended by a physician."  Presumably Turner survived the ordeal.

Among the residents in 1893 was James Hayden, described by the New York Herald as "a notorious pickpocket, who is also known as Funeral Wells."  Once a bookkeeper, the newspaper explained that now, "His picture is in the Rogues' Gallery and he has spent many years in prison."  Having a criminal past in the 19th century was reason enough to be arrested.  On October 9, 1893, Hayden and three other men were loitering around Sixth Avenue and 28th Street.  Detectives Sullivan and Lang noticed the "quartette of crooks," as described by the New York Herald.  "The crooks didn't do anything unlawful, so they were arrested as suspicious characters." said the article.  It continued, "They will be arraigned in Jefferson Market Police Court this morning."

Leon Wernert moved his business to Third Avenue.  The pharmacy here was taken over by Frederick Sutheim.  In the meantime, the residents continued to be middle class.  Living here in 1897 were the families of Gustav Grumbach, who ran a fur business on Clinton Place (today's West 8th Street); tailor Joseph Eremito; Peter Campora, who ran a florist shop steps away at 100 West Houston Street; Dominico Livellara, whose butcher shop was on Bleecker Street; and Caroline Buzze, a widow.

By the outbreak of World War I, Paul F. Gebicke ran the drugstore.  Born in Germany in 1854, he was vice-president and custodian of the mortuary fund of the German Apothecaries' Society of New York.  Although the neighborhood was greatly filled with Italian immigrants, the German druggist was "very popular" according to The Practical Druggist in December 1919.

Druggist Paul F. Gebicke, The Practical Druggist, December 1919 (copyright expired)

In the post-World War I years, the neighborhood saw increasing violence and crime.  Giuseppe Pepe lived here as early as 1920.  On January 20, 1921, The Evening World reported that he had been arrested for "peddling home made hootch to householders."

On the night of August 8, 1922, Alfred Form staggered into the drugstore and collapsed.  The 30-year-old tailor "had been stabbed in the abdomen and the left hand," reported the New York Herald.  The article said, "He became unconscious before he could be questioned and was in a serious condition when taken to St. Vincent's Hospital."  Detectives surmised that the stabbing was a result "of labor troubles in the clothing business."

The Valeati family occupied an apartment here in 1927.  On September 4 that year, 15-year-old Tony Valeati was watching a dice game in the rear yard of the building.  A quarrel broke out between two of the gamblers.  The New York Times reported, "A pistol was drawn and Tony was shot in the left shoulder."  Happily, the wound was not serious and he was treated at St. Vincent's Hospital.  The gamblers, not unexpectedly, had scattered.

Boys play in a stack of paving blocks as a limousine crosses West Houston street in 1932.  The excavation for the subway had been covered, but the pavement had not been repaired yet.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

After having been a pharmacy for decades, in the Prohibition years the store became a "pasticceria and gelateria," or pastry and gelato shop.  By the early 1960s, it was a cafe, La Casa Di Arturo, operated by Arthur Giunta.  (In 1964, he was refused a beer license because he had pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor in 1959 and because it was within 200 feet of a school, St. Anthony's School.)

The name La Casa Di Arturo eventually was honed down to Arturo's, a famous Greenwich Village spot for Italian food and pizza.  A blurb in Claudia Varrin's 2002 A Guide to New York's Fetish Underground described Arturo's fare, "Terrific brick-oven pizza, great mussels in wine sauce, live jazz on selected nights."

Arturo's has spread into the twin building next door.

More than half a century after Arthur Giunta opened his cafe, Arturo's remains a Greenwich Village destination.  William E. Waring's 1881 building has lost the urns that once decorated its cornice, but overall its appearance is little changed.

photographs by the author

The Van Buren Ryerson House -- 129 East 94th Street

 

In 1878 developers Duffy & Bros. tackled the problem of developing Goat Hill--presumably named because its steep slope had made it unworkable for planting, but quite satisfactory for grazing goats.  That year they hired architect F. S. Barus to design nine rowhouses--121 through 137 East 94th Street--between Park and Lexington Avenues.  The 16-and-one-half-feet wide homes were completed in 1879.

Among the group was 129 East 94th Street.  Faced in brownstone, it rose three stories above a high English basement.  Beefy cast iron newels and railings flanked the stoop, and austere stone architraves embraced the openings.  Their sills and molded cornices sat on scrolled brackets.

It became home to engineer and inventor Van Buren Ryerson.  Born in 1805, he was renowned for his inventions, like his 1869 Ryerson Pulverizer used by miners to pulverize dry ores.  But none was more celebrated than his 1858 Sub Marine Explorer, a pioneering diving bell.  Ryerson's residency would be short-lived.  He died in the house on November 16, 1880 at the age of 75.  

Frank R. Houghton purchased the house.  A real estate broker, he was treasurer of the Real Estate Board of Brokers.  Houghton offered 129 East 94th Street for sale in March 1890 for $16,000, guaranteeing its "value [will] surely increase."  

Andrew Fay purchased the house in September 1892 after, apparently, negotiating the price.  He paid $15,500, or about $551,000 in 2026.

An attorney, Fay was an assistant clerk in the District Attorney's office.  He and his wife, Maria, had five children, Elizabeth A., Edward J., Eugene, Loretta, and William A.

The Fay family led quiet lives, never appearing in the society pages.  Other than legal business matters, Andrew Fay's name did not appear in print until his passing here on October 24, 1906.  And even then, his death notice was a succinct, one-sentence announcement.  His funeral was held in the drawing room two days later.

Interestingly, Fay bequeathed the house in equal portions to his children.  Maria was not included in the title.

At the time of their father's death, at least Eugene, Loretta and Elizabeth were still living with Maria.  Eugene was highly involved in civic affairs and on January 24, 1906 was appointed a member of the Local School Board of the 16th District.  

On January 21, 1909, the New York Herald reported, "Mr. John J. Daniels and Miss Elizabeth M. Fay were married yesterday in the Church of St. Francis de Sales."  Loretta was her sister's maid of honor.  The article noted, "A wedding breakfast was served at the home of the bride's mother, Mrs. Andrew Fay, at No. 129 East Ninety-fourth street."

Maria Fay died on August 16, 1912.  Her funeral was held in the drawing room on the 20th, followed by a mass at the Church of St. Francis de Sales.

In 1941, the muscular stoop ironwork was intact.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The house saw several occupants over the subsequent years.  It was lost in foreclosure in the World War II years.  On August 5, 1943, The New York Times reported, "Paul G. Reilly of the law firm of Earle, Rust & Reilly has bought for his own occupancy, the three-story brownstone dwelling."  

Reilly and his wife, Lillian, made substantial changes before moving in.  The stoop was removed and the entrance lowered below grade.  The 1879 details of the parlor floor openings were shaved off.  (Oddly enough, the upper floor windows were left intact.)  A second renovation remodeled the interiors  in 1948.  During one of the projects, the brownstone was stuccoed.

image via Google Streetview

Paul and Lillian had three sons, Willis, Gorman, and Paul Jr., and a daughter, Jane.  Reilly had been a member of Reilly, Fleming & Reilly since the 1930s.  In 1948, he represented the Six Nations of the Iroquois Confederacy for reimbursement for 22 million acres of upstate New York land.  He would work on the case for four decades, amassing a library of photocopies of treaties between Native American nations and the U.S. Government, maps, chapters from history books, and other materials.

In 1954, Reilly unsuccessfully ran for the House of Representatives.  The couple was in San Pedro Cantira, Spain on April 26, 1979 when Reilly died at the age of 70.  His casework materials, called The Paul G. Reilly Indian Collection, was donated to the E. H. Butler Library of The State University of New York.

In 2014, a restoration was initiated by William Vitacco Associates, Ltd.  The stoop was restored, the stucco removed, and the window details refabricated.  Still a single-family home, it has been sympathetically returned to its 1879 appearance.

photographs by the author