The 1817 385 Bleecker Street

 

image via loopnet.com

In 1815, retired clothing merchant Aaron Henry purchased a large tract of land in Greenwich Village.  The recently bucolic neighborhood was seeing an influx of activity since the erection of the nearby State Prison.  In 1817 he erected two frame structures at the northeast corner of Perry and George Streets.  (George Street would be renamed Bleecker around 1829.)

Like the slightly smaller building next door, the corner structure was two-and-a-half stories tall.  Its peaked roof would have been pierced by two dormers.  In 1820, both buildings were sold to Samuel Torbert, who apparently leased them.  As early as 1830, Daniel McCroly and William Tiet's "weaving" business occupied the ground floor of 385 Bleecker Street.

The upper floor and attic were rented.  Living here in 1847 and '48 were the families of John C. McCollam, a carman; and carpenter Elihu B. Price.  The commercial space continued to house fabric concerns.  In 1855, Robert Scott ran a dyeing shop here, while the family of John Burns, a smith, occupied the upper portion of the building.

As early as 1858, James Black manufactured buckram--a stiff, rough fabric--here.  The wooden building was threatened early that year.  On March 11, The New York Times reported that a fire had broken out at 8:00 the previous evening.  "The fire originated in the dyeing-room, and was caused by an imperfection in the flue," said the article.  Happily, it was quickly extinguished with little damage.

Around 1860, the Cyrus Patten family moved into the upper floors.  Patten was a jeweler.  He and his wife, Lydia, had at least one daughter, Mary J., who taught in the girls' department of School No. 15 on Fifth Street.  At the time, Jacob Moore, ran the ground floor fabric business.  By 1863, Richard Moore, presumably a son, joined the business.

Lydia Patten died at the age of 65 on October 14, 1863.  Her funeral was held in house two days later.

Mary J. Patten, who had recently married Joseph Masten, was no longer living in the Bleecker Street house.  Interestingly, however, Henrietta Katkamier moved in.   She was a teacher in the girls' department of School No. 15--very possibly replacing Mary Patten Masten's position there.  Henrietta boarded with Cyrus Patten through 1866, when he moved into Mary and Joseph Masten's home in Yonkers, where he died at the age of 77 on December 26, 1874.

Elizabeth Miller, the widow of Thomas Miller, occupied the upper floors in 1867, apparently renting rooms.  Henry Freund, a die maker; and Mary Danneker, who surprisingly listed her profession as "segars," lived here that year.  Eliza Friend ran her fancygoods store at street level and lived in the rear.

Eliza's venture would be short-lived.  On September 9, 1869, an advertisement in the New York Herald read, "Fancy Goods Store for Sale--In an excellent location, with apartment, doing a good business in dressmaking and stamping.  Inquire at 385 Bleecker st."

It may have been John H. Timm's purchase of the building that prompted Eliza Friend's move.  Timm lived around the corner at 77 Perry Street and moved his grocery store into the Bleecker Street space.  

It was about this time that Timm raised the attic to a full third floor and extended the building by filling in the passageway behind it to create a new entry to the upper floors.  A simple cornice and fascia and an updated storefront were installed.

image from the collection of the New York Public Library

In 1879, Timm leased the store to Flannery Brothers, composed of Thomas E., Joseph F. and John P. Flannery.  The brothers established a saloon in the space, adding it to their others at 635 Hudson Street, 613 Third Avenue and 802 Greenwich Street.  Interestingly, according to John P. Flannery on October 7, 1892, "This business is in my mother's name, Catherine A. Flannery."

The Flannery Brothers saloon lasted here until 1897, when John H. Timm leased the space to James Mulligan.   The Flannerys left nothing for the new leasee.  An auction took place on May 11 offering: 

Elegant Ash Counters with Cabinet Back Bar and 5-plate Mirrors (to match), Patent Ice House, Lunch Bars, Mirrored Wall Case, Screens and Summer Doors, Tables, Vienna Chairs, Partitions, Cash Register, Glassware, Chandeliers, Storm Doors, etc., in lots to dealers.

The process was repeated six years later when an auction of the "saloon fixtures" was held on July 29, 1903.

John H. Timm continued to lease the store space to saloon owners and their businesses continued to be short-lived.  In 1912, Thomas McFadden ran the saloon, followed by Jonathan Reilly, who was superseded by Frank Barbiere in 1915.

A distinct change came in the post-World War I years.  The Polimeni fishing tackle store occupied the space by 1918.  While anglers could shop for fishing rods and lures, Polimeni's ads clearly noted, "No Bait."

Seen here in February 1932, the upper shutters have been removed.  Street signs are affixed to the second floor corners.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

In 1934, the building's wooden facade was covered with a thick layer of stucco, leaving only the wood-framed windows to testify to the structure's venerable architecture.  By then, the Waverly Grocery store occupied the ground floor space.  Following the repeal of Prohibition, in 1938 the store's owner, Sam Rabinowitz, obtained a license to sell beer "for off-premises consumption."

In September 1980, the Johnny Jupiter store opened here.  The Villager reported a month later, "its white shelves are filled to overflowing with a rainbow of colors decorating fragile and delicate cups and saucers, plates, glasses, ashtrays and many beautifully designed jars, metal hanging baskets, crocheted pillows and table cloths."

Johnny Jupiter was supplanted by Simon Pearce, described by The Villager reporter Joan Foley on December 10, 1987 as "one of the finest craft stores in the Village."  A Marc Jacobs cosmetics store opened around the turn of the century, replaced in 2017 by leather goods store Tde. (short for the Daily Edited).

image via camelotrealgygroup

No one passing 385 Bleecker Street today could guess that under the gray-painted stucco is one of Greenwich Village's oldest extant buildings.

The 1867 Solomon Banta House - 68 Perry Street

 

Solomon Froeligh Banta had amassed a significant fortune by the end of the Civil War.  A former alderman, he owned a carriage making operation at 609 Hudson Street and erected speculative housing in Greenwich Village.  In 1867 he completed a brownstone-faced residence for his own family's use on the south side of Perry Street, between West 4th and Bleecker Streets.

Designed by architect William Naugle in the new French Second Empire style, its short stoop was protected by beefy iron railings and newels.  The parlor windows within the rusticated base were fully rounded, while the doorway was segmentally arched.  It wore an arched pediment supported on scrolled brackets.  At the second floor, graceful molded lintels sat above the floor-to-ceiling windows .  The fourth floor took the form of a stylish, slate-shingled mansard.

In 1941 the Banta house retained its entry pediment and handsome mansard.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Solomon's wife, Maria Roome, came from an old Greenwich Village family.  Of the couple's eight children, only three--Matthias, Sarah Froeligh, and Eliza Jane--were still alive when the Perry Street house was completed.  The Bantas' country home was in Englewood, New Jersey.

Matthias and his family lived at 58 Perry Street (renumbered 68 in 1879) with his parents.  An attorney, he and his wife, Eliza Ann Gedney, had four children (a fifth had died in infancy).

Sadly, Solomon Banta would not enjoy his opulent new home for long.  On August 6, 1868 he died "after a lingering illness," according to The New York Times, two months before his 67th birthday.  Unexpectedly, his funeral was not held in the house, but at the True Dutch Reformed Church, steps away at the corner of West 4th and Perry streets.   

Maria was at the New Jersey home when she died at the age of 64 on September 9, 1870.  Her body was brought back to the Perry Street house for her funeral on September 12.

Matthias and his family remained in the Perry Street house.  Three months after his mother's funeral, on the afternoon of New Year's Eve, it was the scene of a frightening accident.  A servant, Elizabeth Coleman, was washing windows and, despite the cold weather, leaned far out of the second floor to reach the outside of the panes.  The New York Dispatch reported that she "lost her hold, and fell a distance of twelve feet, fracturing her collar bone."

In 1874 Banta sold the Perry Street house to Joseph P. DeNeufville, a sashmaker whose shop was on West 20th Street near Seventh Avenue.  Moving in with him and his wife Anna were their two grown sons, Joseph Jr., who worked as a clerk; Solomon B., and his wife Jennie.  Solomon listed his profession simply as "merchant."

The family would remain in the house for years.  Around the turn of the century it was purchased by Dr. Burnett C. McIntyre.  It does not appear that McIntyre ever lived in the house, but used it for rental income.  He signed leases with Annie Wallace in 1909, Paolo Costa in 1911, and Ralph Alberton in 1917.  

By 1920 68 Perry Street was operated as a rooming house.  In January newlyweds Frank and Nancy Best moved in.  Their honeymoon period would be short.  The New York Herald explained, "eleven days later [she] found Best was not a prosperous advertising man, as he had told her.  She then started suit for separation."

Best had not seen the last of his wife.  Two years later, she had him arrested at 14th Street and Fifth Avenue on a charge of disorderly conduct.  She claimed "he had followed her from a restaurant in Greenwich Village and had annoyed her," according to the New York Herald.

In night court, Best's version was starkly different.  "Best said he was seated in the Greenwich Village restaurant when his wife entered and called him outside," said the article.  While Best testified, Nancy continually interrupted despite the magistrate's repeated warnings.  Finally he ordered her from the courtroom.

Nancy's outbursts annoyed Magistrate Oberwager to the point that he dismissed the charges against Best.  With a sexist bent typical of the period, he said, "Even if a woman sues a man for separation, she must not forget that she is still that man's wife, and he has a right to speak to her until the court legally grants her a separation."

Another set of newlyweds moved into 68 Perry Street in 1924.  Isaiah "Cy" Oggins had graduated from Columbia College in 1917 with a degree in history.  In 1923 he joined the Communist Workers Party of American, and the following year married Communist activist Nerma Berman.  Among the couple's revolutionary friends was anarchist Emma Goldman, who lived nearby at 36 Grove Street.

The couple became members of the Soviet underground by 1926, recruited to spy abroad for the Soviet Union.  They went to Germany in 1928 to establish a safe house.  Oggins would never to return to the United States.  In 1938 he was arrested, a victim of the Stalin purges.

Burnett G. MacIntyre hired architect Robert Techman to officially convert the house to furnished rooms in 1937.  Following MacIntyre's death, his estate sold the property to Charles E. Lent in March 1944 for $12,000--about $185,000 in 2023.

Another renovation, completed in 1960, resulted in two apartments per floor.  The exterior was pillaged with the removal of the entrance pediment and window lintels, a slathering of a stucco-like substance over the brownstone, and, most egregious, the replacing of the mansard with a flat-faced fourth floor and parapet.

The 1960 alterations were architecturally heartless.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

A years-long renovation begun in 2000 laudably brought the exterior of 68 Perry Street back to a 19th century appearance.  The stucco was removed and the brownstone restored, the parapet replaced with a period appropriate cornice, and refabricated stoop ironwork, lintels and entrance details installed.

photographs by the author

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The George F. Coddington, Jr. House - 64 Perry Street

 

Although essentially identical, the four abutting houses erected on Perry Street between West 4th and Bleecker Street in 1866 were designed by two different architects.  Robert Mook, who a year later would design the magnificent marble mansion of Mary Mason Jones at 1 East 57th Street, was responsible for  50 and 54 Perry Street (renumbered 60 and 64 in 1879).  

No. 54 was built for George F. Coddington, Jr., a "carpenter and builder," or what would be considered a contractor today.  Described by The New York Times as "a substantial brown-stone mansion," like its neighbors it rose three stories above a tall English basement.  The robust cast iron stoop newels and railings and the grand arched pediment over the entrance reflected Coddington's affluence and social station.  Coddington and his family remained in the house until 1868, when they moved to a new home he had constructed down the block.

The residence briefly became home to merchant Edward P. Young, who was followed in 1872 by "mirror and frame" manufacturer William F. Blanck, his wife, the former Elizabeth Quinn, and four of their five children--Thomas, Lizzie, Sadie, Jennie and Mamie.  Mamie, the youngest, was four years old.

Born in 1827, Blanck had gone West during the 1848 California Gold Rush.  There, according to The Sun later, he "made a fortune in the gold diggings."  He increased his wealth back in New York by establishing Blanck & Co. furniture dealers, and then his frame and mirror factory.

Like all affluent families, the Blancks summered at fashionable resorts.  They were still at Saratoga on October 17, 1873 when Elizabeth died.  Her body was brought back to New York City and her funeral was held in the parlor here.

Following Lizzie's marriage to Alfred W. Gedney, the couple moved in.  Lizzie, according to The New York Times, became "mistress of her father's household, and [was] at all times disposed to exercise her authority as such and resent all encroachments on her prerogatives."  She would soon have serious reasons for additional resentment to "encroachments on her prerogatives."

Beginning in 1879, William F. Blanck was secretly "keeping company" with Amanda Waring.  The New York Times described her as "a quiet, well-preserved little brunette, widow of a master truckman."  Amanda, who was 20 years younger than Blanck, lived with her 18-year-old son in Brooklyn.  The New York Times said, "Her husband died leaving her comparatively poor."  In contrast, the newspaper estimated Blanck's worth at "from $175,000 to $200,000"--about $5 million on the higher end in 2023 terms.

After a two-year courtship, in October 1881 Blanck introduced his sweetheart to his shocked children.  One week later the couple was married.  None of the children was present at the ceremony.  Amanda now supplanted Lizzie Gedney as mistress of the house.  It did not go well.  The New York Times reported, "the bride found herself regarded as an interloper by Mr. and Mrs. Gedney, Thomas Blanck, and Miss Sadie Blanck.  They soon rebelled openly, but their step-mother acted decisively and quelled the revolt against her so far as to be able to assume full control of the house."

Eight months later, Lizzie and her husband left, moving in with Gedney's father,  The New York Times commented, "They and their step-mother were bitter enemies when they parted."  Amanda did not have problems with the two youngest children.  The New York Times wrote, "Misses Jennie and Mamie Blanck were dutiful, and their relations with their step-mother were affectionate and agreeable."  On January 18, 1882 Sadie married Edward Ten Eyck, and on June 15 Thomas J. Blanck married and he, too, moved out.  It would seem that now peace would reign within 64 Perry Street.  But despite William Blanck's love for Amanda, which "apparently increased rather than wanted," the three eldest children continued to plot against her and poison their father's mind.

William, Amanda and Mamie spent the summer of 1882 at Sea Cliff, Long Island (Jennie was summering with they Gedneys).  On August 18, William came to town on business.  He secretly met his son, Thomas, and son-in-law Alfred Gedney, at his lawyer's office and executed a lease for 64 Perry Street to Gedney for one year and eight months.  He then wrote out a bill of sale for its contents to his son.

Blanck returned to Sea Cliff, giving no hint of the subterfuge.  Three days later, on Monday, he made an excuse to come to New York again.  "He said he would return with his carriage and a horse, and was as affectionate as ever when he kissed his wife good-bye," said The New York Times.  Amanda received a telegram the next day that he would be delayed until Wednesday.  Suspicious, Amanda left Mamie at Sea Cliff and rushed to Manhattan.

She was unable to get into the Perry Street house.  And when she returned to Sea Cliff she found Mamie gone.  A letter left by Thomas Blanck said he had taken Mamie, and that if she would call at the attorney's office, "she would obtain full particulars."  It was the beginning of a nightmare for Amanda Blanck.

Using keys she had made by a locksmith, Amanda entered the Perry Street house.  Before long, Gedney, Thomas Blanck "and a foul-looking fellow, James Barry, alias Gany, alias Chambers--scaled the fence from a neighboring yard and entered through the rear basement window."  Confronted by Amanda, Gedney told her he had a lease on the house.  "You turned me and my wife out; now we'll turn you out and have no mercy on you," he said.

Refusing to leave, Amanda went into the back parlor.  Gedney and Thomas Blanck pulled the pocket doors closed and locked her in.  James Barry was left as a sort of prison guard.  She had already ordered groceries, but when the delivery boy arrived, Gedney ordered him away.  "Mrs. Blanck had to contend herself with tea and dry bread, as she had determined not to leave the house," said The New York Times.  Around 4:00 a friend of Amanda, John G. Smithwick, arrived.  Gedney tried to refuse him entrance, but he was pushed aside.  He "saw the imprisoned lady, who begged him to inform her counsel."

After Smithwick rushed out, a second guard named Dillon was brought in.  He and Barry drank freely from the Blanck cellars, making "a tap-room of the front basement," according to the article.  When Amanda attempted to sleep and asked them through the door to be less noisy, "One of them shouted, 'Go to----.' and she, fearing violence, retreated."

The following day saw a standoff in the Perry Street house.  Amanda's sister-in-law, her son, former Judge Thompson and his partner, William A. Crolius came to rescue her.  Gedney brought James Dillon, a special Deputy Sheriff.  James Barry was still drunk.  Gedney produced his lease.  Judge Thompson called his presence "an invasion" and told Amanda to order them to leave.  "This Gedney declined to do, and instructed his hired menacers not to budge."

Thompson then went to Justice Ford and made a complaint on Amanda's behalf.  Barry and Dillons were arrested for disorderly conduct.  With her antagonists gone, Amanda had friends come "who held the post for her while she went to court," on August 24.  The New York Times reported, "William F. Blanck did not appear, and it was understood that his children had obtained complete control over him and had spirited him away to Hackensack, N. J."

The justice ruled that Gedney and the others, despite the lease, were trespassers in the house.  Amanda returned to the house, but hired an armed guard to stand sentry at the basement gate, while the front door "remained chained and barricaded," according to The New York Times.

As Amanda Blanck remained blockaded within her home, her lawyer arrived to say that her husband had offered her $35,000 to settle her claims.  It was a substantial amount, equaling more than $950,000 today.  It all came to a pitiable end four days later.  On August 28 the New York Herald entitled an article, "Mrs. Blanck Capitulates," and said Amanda was "in a depressed state yesterday in her husband's house, No. 64 Perry street.  She was melancholy and utterly disinclined to talk."  The article said her lawyer had "advised Mrs. Blanck to give up the house and told her that she would be amply provided for by her husband.  To this she acquiesced and agreed to leave to-day."

The house was purchased by wholesale grocery John Henry and Louise C. Mohlmann.  The couple had three children, George A. Jessie T. and Albert John.  John Henry Mohlmann was athletic, his name appearing routinely in newspapers for his swimming and rowing achievements.  Tragically, his athleticism would end his life.  On September 30, 1890, The Press reported, "John H. Mohlman [sic] of No. 64 Perry street was accidentally drowned at Brielle, N. J., on Sunday while rowing on the Manasquen Inlet."

Following his death, Louise's father, chemist Albert G. C. Hahn moved into the house and was made a legal guardian of the children.  Hahn had graduated from Cornell University and the University of Freiburg, Germany.  In 1885, the Nepera Chemical Company, makers of photographic papers, sought out him.   At the time photography had come into its own as an important technology.  Hahn was brought on as an officer of the company, co-heading the chemical department.

The family remained at 64 Perry Street until July 1900 when Henry E. Schwitters and his wife Margaretha purchased the house for $16,500 (about $550,000 in 2023).  Like John Mohlmann, he was in the grocery business.  He and his son, Edo, owned the fruit and produce commission firm of H. E. Schwitters & Son on Washington Street.  

The family leased a room in their home.  In 1910 80-year-old Jacques Lowe was renting here.  The German-born photographer was still active, a member of the staff of Jubilee Magazine and freelance photographer for periodicals like Red Book, Fortune, Life, Coronet, Argosy and Sign magazines.

Henry E. Schwitters died on November 20, 1912, leaving an estate of about $1.65 million today.  He left the entire estate to Margaretha.  

Throughout the succeeding decades, the Schwitters family continued to lease a room.  Policeman Emilio Antonelli of the 16^th Precinct lived here in 1948 when he experienced an unusually embarrassing accident on the Fourth of July.  That year the city banned fireworks of any kind.  It was a move that many youngsters disapproved of and one boy thought an excellent expression of protest would be to toss a lit firecracker into the station house window.  Patrolman Antonelli was working the switchboard there and momentarily got up from his seat.  Just as he sat down again, the firecracker landed on his chair and exploded.

 

Antonelli was treated at Polyclinic Hospital and a spokesperson for the police told reporters that the  injured cop “would spend the Fourth of July face down in bed and would be on the sick list for several days.”  The tosser of the firecracker was not caught.

At some point around the Depression years, the Schwitters modernized the house by removing the Victorian detailing and replaced the cornice with a paneled parapet.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

On December 17, 1955 Eleanora Schwitters sold the house to Alva L. Harrington, who resold the house to Harold Eliot Leeds and his partner Wheaton Galentine.  Leeds was an architect and interior design instructor at Pratt Institute.  Galentine was a documentary filmmaker and theirs was a particularly touching love story.

The men had already been together for nearly a decade.  Greenwich Village had been a haven for artists, street philosophers, writers and others who varied from the mainstream since prior to World War I, and by now was the center of New York’s gay life.   

The couple's hospitality and love of entertaining was famous among their friends.  Across the street lived poet and short story writer Elizabeth Bishop.  She wrote to poet Robert Lowell on January 22, 1962, in part mentioning the couple and the house:

I gave your plays—with a hurriedly written and illegible note—to Harold Leeds across the street at 64 Perry Street…Perhaps you have met by now.  I’d like to have you, and E, see his house.  It’s the prettiest one I know in New York.  He is a very good architect—a bit chi-chi and difficult at first, but improves rapidly, and his friend Wheaton Galentine makes, also, very good movies—really.  Ask to see his Singer Sewing Machine movie sometime!  They are hard-working and quiet and ultra-ultra-refined.  I like them both.

The interiors, in 2012, were pristinely intact.  Note the stained glass panel in the arched doorway at the rear of the entrance hall.   images via sothebyhomes.com

Taking a page from the Schwitters, Leeds and Wheaton rented an apartment to fashion executive Tim Gunn for 16 years. 

In 1990 Woody Allen filmed scenes from Alice here, then in 1998 the house was used by HBO as the exterior of Carrie Bradshaw’s home in its series “Sex and the City.”   Three years later the network quietly moved the shots to the house next door, at 66 Perry Street; but for years tourists and New Yorkers alike posed in front of both houses for photographs.

In 2002 Harold Leeds, who had designed structures like the Paris Theater, died in the Village Nursing Home.  Wheaton Galentine, stricken with Alzheimer’s disease, lived on in the lower part of the house attended by an aide.   A real estate agent told Diane Cardwell of The New York Times that after more than a half century of being together, the confused man would sometimes ask his aide, “Are we going to the nursing home to see Harold?”

The house as it appeared in 2012, prior to the restoration.  image via sothebyhomes.com

In June 2011 Wheaton Galentine died.  The remarkable house sold later that year for $9 million, with much of the proceeds earmarked for the Village Center for Care.  It was resold in 2013 for $13.5 million, its new owners initiating a three-year restoration/renovation.  The architects used surviving examples along the 1866 row to amazingly recreate the lost Italianate elements.

photograph by the author

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The 1869 Henry Kloppenburg House - 78 Perry Street

 

In 1866 architect Robert Mook designed two high-end, Italianate houses at 74 and 76 Perry Street.  Two years later he designed an identical residence for George F. Codding, Jr. at 72 Perry Street.  And then, in 1869, builder William Mulry added to the row by erecting a house at 78 Perry Street.  His was designed by architect John O'Neil.

O'Neil produced a carbon-copy of the Mook-designed houses.  Twenty-feet-wide, it rose three floors above an English basement.  Beefy cast iron stoop railings terminated in paneled newels, and the arched entrance sat below an arched pediment supported by scrolled brackets.  The French-style segmentally arched windows were fully framed and crowned with molded cornices.

Coal dealer Henry Kloppenburg purchased 78 Perry Street from Mulry.  It was at the time numbered 68.  He and his wife, the former Margareta Adelheit (known as Meta), had four children, K. L. Frederick (who went only by Frederick), Anna, L. Matilda, and George Washington.  The youngest, George, was 16 years old when the family moved in.  Frederick, who was 28, was involved in his father's business, Henry Kloppenburg & Son.  The Kloppenburg coal yard was located at 400 West 14th Street.  Years later The Coal Trade Journal would mention that he began the business "several years before the Civil War."

Henry Kloppenburg died in the Perry Street house on November 11, 1892 at the age of 77.  Meta and her two unmarried children, Frederick and Mathilda, remained here for another decade.

Meta died at the age of 89 on August 31, 1902.  Just two months later, on November 2, Matilda died at 58 years old.  Frederick moved to Brooklyn within months, and sold his childhood home to Christian and Ida Jetter in March 1903.  Frederick Kloppenburg supplied their mortgage.

Christian Jetter had begun his milk business in 1880, and merged with the Greenwich Dairy Company in 1901.  It turned out to be an ill-advised move.  Four years after purchasing the Perry Street house, he was forced to declare bankruptcy, The New York Times reporting on January 27, 1907 that he had "liabilities of $18,016 and no assets."  Title to the Perry Street was returned to Frederick Kloppenburg.

The residence was being operated as a boarding house following the Jetters' departure.  Among the residents in 1908 was the widowed Rev. John Rowe, pastor of the Perry Street Methodist Episcopal Church between Greenwich Avenue and Washington Street.  Another boarder was Mrs. Marget Page, who was the victim of a jealous curse that year.

Living nearby at 15 Bank Street were the Kleinders.  Mary Kleinder, who was 37 years old in 1908, suspected Marget Page of "interfering in her domestic affairs."  To remedy the situation, she turned to a curse.  Mary filled small bags with salt and attached "scurrilous letters" to them, as described by the New York Herald.  She then waited in ambush for Marget Page to leave the Perry Street house, at which time she would pelt her with the bags.

Marget Page had Mary Kleinder arrested, telling the magistrate on January 21, 1908 that the bags "were intended to act as an evil charm."  She "stoutly denied" her adversary's accusations of having an affair with her husband, saying "she thought Mrs. Kleinders insane."  The magistrate was inclined to agree and sent Mary to Bellevue Hospital "for examination as to her sanity."

K. J. Frederick Kloppenburg died on February 11, 1914 at the age of 71.  His estate administered the leasing of 78 Perry Street until August 1922, when it was sold to Alfred L. and Millie Laurents.  The couple moved into the house, while continuing to rent space.  Among their tenants was Thurston Macauley, the "publicity expert" for the radio station WGBS.  In 1925 he married actress Marion Berry, and the couple honeymooned on Nantucket Island.  On November 12, The Sun reported that they had returned and "are living at 78 Perry street, in the Village." The lure of Cape Cod, however, was tugging that the newlyweds.  The article noted, "Mac now talks of buying a house in that quaint old place and settling down there."

In 1935 the vintage house was converted to apartments and the façade modernized.  The stoop was removed, the entrance lowered to the basement level, and the window cornices shaved off.

The modernization of 78 Perry Street (middle) is seen here in 1941.  Next door, 76 Perry Street (to the left) exhibits its original appearance.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Occupying an apartment in 1948 was "pretty Ann Lohmann," as she was described by The New York Age on December 25.  A year earlier she had begun an intimate affair with attorney Samuel Allen Early, Jr. a member of the District Attorney's office.  The young lawyer was married to "the cultured and talented actress" Theodora Smith Early.  Unlike Mary Kleinder, Theodora Early did not pelt Ann with cursed salt bags, but with a law suit.  The well-publicized court proceedings, involving interracial sexual relations, caused a sensation.  The New York Age began its article saying, "The wreck of a marriage of brilliant promise because of her husband's alleged love for a white woman was disclosed in Supreme Court in a suit whose full revelations may be sensational."

Before 1969 the exterior of the house had received a second humiliation.  The brownstone was given a brick veneer and stucco was applied over the window frames.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

But deliverance would come.  When Arnold Saltzman purchased 78 Perry Street in 1989 it held six apartments. He initiated a restoration/renovation, completed in 1992, which resulted in a triplex in the basement through second floors, and two apartments on the third.  Using the surviving examples at 74 and 76 Perry Street, the architects refabricated the missing stoop, including the Italianate iron railings and newels.  The molded window frames were replaced, minus their cornices, and historically perfect double entrance doors were installed.  Saltzman stopped short of reconstructing the complex brackets and pediment of the entrance.  The laudable re-do received an award from the Landmarks Preservation Commission in June 1992.

photograph by the author

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The 1845 Abraham Frazee House - 46 Perry Street

 

In 1845 builder Abraham Frazee completed construction on a three-story house at 46 Perry Street in Greenwich Village.  Faced in red brick, its Greek Revival design included delicate iron stoop railings, a narrow, transomed entranceway flanked by pilasters and a dentiled cornice.  To the right of the stoop, a horsewalk provided access to the rear yard.  It was most likely originally protected by an iron gate.  As was common at the time, the rear yard held a second structure, in this case a three-story-and-basement shop.

A "builder" like Frazee would be more accurately be described today as a real estate developer or general contractor.  Affluent and successful, he was a trustee in the Irving Savings Institution, as well.  It is unclear whether the Frazee family ever lived in the Perry Street house, although the expansive shop in the rear would have been suitable for his uses.  What is certain is that by 1853 he was leasing the house to Thomas Smith and his family, while living nearby at 42 Charles Street.

Thomas Smith was a retired "tinman," in 1853.  It is possible he had operated his tin smith business from the shop.  Smith and his wife had three grown sons, Daniel P., Robert L. and Thomas, Jr.  Living with them was Smith's unmarried sister-in-law Mary Logan.  She died at the age of 64 on March 3, 1854 and her funeral was held in the parlor two days later.

In 1855, an advertisement appeared in the New York Herald offering, "To let cheap--A shop in the rear of 46 Perry street.  It is 25 by 25, cellar and three stories above."  It was rented by David A. Demarest and William L. McDermut for their carpentry business, McDermut & Demarest.

While the carpenters plied their trade in the rear during the late 1850's, the residence was being operated as a boarding house, apparently by Phoebe Frazee.  Her boarders were mostly widowed women--Elizabeth Allen, Elizabeth Kinsey (who listed herself as a "vestmaker"), and Eliza Vanblarcum.  Her one male boarder was a plumber, William Allen.

At the end of the Civil War, the rear building was converted for residential purposes.  Hugh Murray, who ran a cap business on Grand Street, occupied the main house in 1867.  His family rented extra space that year, offering "to a small respectable family only, a floor, with water and gas."  Murray filled the rear house with a host of working class tenants--William Avery, who was in the ice business; carman (or cab driver) Louis Blanchard; Francis J. Burns, a carpenter; the appropriately named tailor Henry Cloth; and painter William C. Strong.

Henry W. Thode and his wife, the former Marie Elise Lohman, purchased 46 Perry Street around 1872.  Born in Germany around 1828, Thode had come to America as a boy.  He was a grocer, his store being at 203 West 4th Street.  The couple had two sons, John and William, and a daughter.  The family took in a single boarder in 1873, carpenter Frank Burns.  

And like Hugh Murray, the Thodes rented space in the rear building to surprising number of working class tenants.  That year their six tenants (and their families in some cases), included two laborers, three widows, and a carman.  All were Irish immigrants except for Alice McGown.  It was likely she who placed a position wanted ad in the New York Herald on December 17, 1878 that read, "46 Perry St, Rear--A Scotch Protestant woman as cook.  city reference."

In 1884 the Common Council granted a franchise to the Broadway Surface Railroad, a deal that quickly came under suspicion.  Alderman Arthur J. McQuade was accused of accepting bribes and was tried twice.  The first trial ended with a hung jury, but he was convicted at the second.  When his attorneys brought the case back to court on appeal in 1886, they faced a daunting task in selecting a jury.  And they would not find a member in Henry W. Thode.

On December 7, 1886, The Evening Post reported, "The weary process of endeavoring to obtain a jury to try ex-Alderman Arthur J. McQuade was continued to-day [and] at half-past eleven o'clock the examination of Henry W. Thode, 'gentleman, 46 Perry Street,' was conducted by Col. Fellows.  It took only a few minute to develop the fact that Mr. Thode had a very strong opinion on the case, and he was therefore excused."

Henry Thode retired in 1885.  It appears he sold his business to Charles A. Bohlen, who rented the Perry Street house in 1889 and ran his grocery on West 4th Street.  Henry and Marie moved to the home of their married daughter in Brooklyn Heights, while continuing to rent 46 Perry Street.

Thode caught a cold in May 1904, which worsened into bronchial pneumonia.  He died a week later on May 25 at the age of 76.  Seven months later, on December 3, the Record & Guide reported that his estate had sold "46 Perry st., a front and rear tenement" to Alexander Steel.  

The catch-all term "tenement" at the turn of the last century covered all multi-family structures, and, in fact, the house proper still had only one tenant, Charles A. Bohlen.  In 1906 Steel sold the property.  His buyer was his long-term tenant, Charles Bohlen, whose family remained in the house well into the 1920's.  By then, Bohlen's son-in-law, Charles B. Lowe, was a partner in the investment firm of Stillwell, Leffler & Lowe.

The accommodations in the rear house had greatly improved since the days of Irish workers. An ad in The New York Times on November 18, 1926 read:

Greenwich Village (46 Perry St., rear)--3 rooms with bath, complete housekeeping, quiet, convenient location; suitable for business woman; $50 monthly.

The term "complete housekeeping" meant there was a kitchen, or a kitchenette.  The rent would convert to about $765 per month today.

In 1948 the main house was converted to apartments, one per floor.  It was the setting of the television series "Apartment 3-C" with real-life residents John and Barbara Gay in 1949.  The series ran for just one season.

A renovation to both buildings, completed in 1958, resulted in two duplex apartments in each.  It was most likely at this time that the horsewalk was closed in and given a laudable simulation of the original entrance.  

The lower duplex of the main house was a tempting target f0r burglars Mandel Amos and Darrell Hunt in the night of April 39, 1993.  But they had already raised the suspicions of undercover policemen Clifford Allen and Daniel Gardner and two uniformed officers, Sgt. William Abramo and William Bastone.  According to Abramo later, they "had spotted the pair moving in and out of doorways" and began following them.

They were able to do so unnoticed because the undercover cops were riding in an Anti-Crime Unit taxi.  As one of the crooks stood watch on the sidewalk, the other pushed an air conditioner through a ground floor window and climbed in.  Then the second thief followed.  After about 30 minutes, they emerged, "carrying several duffle bags and knapsacks packed with two VCRs, camera equipment and a television set wrapped in a sheet," according to Sgt. Abramo.  It was too much to carry, and so Hung and Amos looked up and down the street for a cab.  Clifford Allen drove the cab up, and officer Gardner, posing as a casual passerby, stopped to open the cab door for the overly-laden men.  Once in the cab, they were transported to the police station.

In 2001, the main house was re-converted from two duplexes to a single family home, and the rear house currently contains an upper and a lower duplex.

photographs by the author

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The Romantic Compound at No. 93 Perry Street

In 1811 Carpenter-builder Abraham A. Campbell leased the plot at what would become No. 93 Perry Street.  It may have been the construction boom in Greenwich Village in the 1820s that prompted him to erect a new wooden shop at the rear of the lot in 1827.  A year later he built his frame house at the front of the property.  Clients accessed the shop by a narrow “horse walk” at the left side of the house.  Campbell lived and worked here until late in 1832.  An apparently righteous man, while living here he annually donated $1 to the American Tract Society.

He sold the lease “and the buildings thereon” that year.  The shop building became home to the trap-making factory of Miles Standish.  A direct descendant of Captain Myles Standish of the Plymouth Colony, Standish made traps for the American Fur Company, among others.

The Miles Standish Company of New York was one of the largest, if not the largest, of the manufacturers of iron traps for fur traders in the Rocky Mountains.   In 1832 Nathaniel Wyeth ordered 240 traps for one expedition.  It is possible that his business quickly outgrew the shop behind No. 93 Perry Street.  He left in 1835 and his later traps are afterwards marked “90 Perry” directly across the street.

 

This Standish animal trap was made on Perry Street.  photo by Paul Dobbins

Mary Jones and her husband lived in the house in the mid-1850s.  Mary showed signs of depression or other emotion problems in August 1855; and they came to a climax on August 26.  She attempted suicide by jumping from a second story window.  Her plans were thwarted by the relatively short distance to the sidewalk.

The New York Times reported she jumped “to the pavement, whereto falling heavily she fractured the bones of a leg, besides causing severe internal injuries.”  The newspaper noted that for days she had showed signs of “mental derangement;” and reported “She lies in a precarious state, but may possibly recover.”

Following John B. Law, who died in the house at the age of 35 in 1876, No. 93 became home to the Robert B. Pitcairn family.  Pitcairn was a policeman and he and his wife, the former Mary C. Wing, had three children: Joseph, Mae and Ida.

Robert Pitcairn worked from the 9^th Precinct; but was given a temporary assignment in 1878 which he may have been happy to be relieved of.   On November 16 that year The City Record noted that he had been returned to patrol duty, having been “heretofore details to duty at the several public baths.”

In his 1885 Our Police Protectors, A. E. Costello noted that Pitcairn was head of Corporation Ordinances in the 9^th Precinct.  He described the Greenwich Village precinct neighborhood saying the residents had “the tendency to coalesce, or herd in flat, apartment or tenement houses, more than in any other precinct.  Its streets are quiet, cobble-stoned; and its iniquities, according to the Police record, few.”

That same year the Pitcairns had visitors.  Terence Curry, 50 years old, arrived in town from Johnstown, New York, with his daughter.  Because the Pitcairn family had no room to put up their guests; so they went to Earle’s Hotel at Canal and Centre Streets.

A common problem in 19^th century New York hotels was the modern gas lighting.  Visitors from more rural towns were accustomed to kerosene lamps, which they blew out.   Hotel clerks who recognized “rubes” often cautioned them to turn the gas key to extinguish the light.  This did not happen with Terence Curry.  The New York Times reported on December 2, 1885, “He blew out the gas and yesterday morning was found dead in his bed.”

In the meantime the Snodgrass family, Pitcairn’s landlords, had renovated the former shop to a residential building.  James Snodgrass owned much property in the Village, including other buildings on Perry Street, on West 4^th Street and West 11^th.

The “Widow Love,” her invalid son and 16-year old daughter, Grace, lived on the second floor at No. 93 Perry in 1891, probably in the rear building.   Mrs. Love was a strait-laced, God-fearing woman.  She and her headstrong daughter did not always see eye-to-eye.  The Sun, on March 27, 1891, wrote “Now, if there is one thing that the Widow Love detests more than another it is theatrical performances of any kind.  Theatres she dislikes and museums she considered low and godless.”

Grace “has always been a good, quiet girl, and has never been much away from her mother,” according to the newspaper.  But early that year she made friends with Stella Taylor, who was slightly older than she and lived nearby on Greenwich Street.  Mrs. Love viewed her “with suspicion,” especially after Stella convinced Grace to go to museums with her.   Many “museums” at the time were more like stationary carnivals, filled with curiosities and wonders which were often faked.

And so in February Stella and Grace visited Huber’s Museum on 14^th Street.  There they saw the “Human Stepladder,” Leander Fuller.  A congenital deformity (The Sun blamed it on “undue haste on the part of nature in making him up”) resulted in one leg being two feet shorter than the other.  The newspaper cruelly described him as “this freak” and added “he is singularly plain.”

The girls “struck up flirtation with the freak, and got on very friendly terms with him.”  Grace visited the museum several times, not always with Stella.  When Fuller’s appearance at Huber’s was over, he appeared at Doris’s Museum far to the north on 125^th Street.  The girls followed.

All the while Stella had been teasing Grace, accusing her of being in love with “the stepladder.”  Grace laughed it off and continued making fun of Leonard Fuller.  But then, on Wednesday March 25, 1891 Grace confided that she and the human stepladder intended to elope the next Sunday.  She said Leonard was booked in a “fine engagement” in another city.

Stella went straight to her mother, who sent immediately for Widow Love.   Mrs. Taylor’s first words left the woman speechless.  The Sun reported “Mrs. Taylor, who is short and stout, and a good, round, speedy talker withal, said: ‘Mrs. Love, that daughter Grace of yours is goin’ to elope with a museum freak on Sunday.”

Grace vehemently denied the elopement plans, telling her mother “it was a harmless flirtation and nothing more.”  But Mrs. Love was not convinced.  She went to the Jefferson Market Police Court and asked for help; but because Grace was over 16, there was nothing they could do.  Nevertheless, Agent Finn had a long talking-to with the girl “and scared her until her blue eyes were much reddened with tears.”

Her mother vowed to keep vigilant until Leonard Fuller was out of town.  “As to the freak himself,” noted The Sun, “he pretends to know nothing at all about the affair, although he will not deny that his charms have had an effect upon the young woman.”

Robert B. Pitcairn died on December 11, 1893 at the age of 63.  Mary continued living at No. 93 Perry Street into the 20^th century.  She received her husband’s police pension of $200 a year—about $5,500 in today’s dollars.  When she died late in 1904, her estate was charged by the city for the $16.66 in unused pension money.

In July 1905 Eliza Snodgrass sold the property to Charles H. Hanson.  In reporting the sale the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide described the buildings as a three-story frame tenement to the front; and a four-story frame tenement in the rear.

In the 1920s the New York Evening ran a regular column entitled “Little Sketches About Town.”  On August 29, 1924 the column portrayed the hidden courtyard and quaint wooden buildings of No. 93 Perry Street.  The article caught the eye of author H. P. Lovecraft and according to his biographer, S. T. Joshi in his A Dreamer and a Visionary, he sought out the location that very day.

Lovecraft used No. 93 Perry Street as the setting for the end of his story “He.”  Here the narrator finds himself “at the entrance of a little black court off Perry Street.”

At the time Lovecraft discovered No. 93’s hidden courtyard, Greenwich Village had become the center of Manhattan’s artist community.  For over a decade old houses were being transformed to studios and their facades remodeled to Mediterranean, Tudor and other romantic fantasies.  In 1927 builders MacKathryn & O’Sullivan purchased No. 93, announcing on April 17 they would “remodel the premises into studios.”

The firm hired architect Floyd McCathern to design the project.  He moved the entrance of the main house to the side, accessed through an arched opening.  The wooden buildings were coated in thick stucco; and the front building was given a second story Spanish balcony.

Charles Von Urban photographed the renovated building in 1932 -- from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Among the myriad residents who came and went over the next decades was author and journalist Lamar Middleton.  His extraordinary career included working for The New York Daily News, the Paris Herald, and the Paris edition of The Chicago Tribune.  His several historical books included The Rape of Africa; Revolt U.S.A., which analyzed 10 minor American riots; and Heirs Apparent: The Vice Presidents of the United States.  He was 67 years old when he died, living here, on May 2, 1969.

The 1927 makeover of the two structures resulted in a new type of charm that survives today.  The quaint Mediterranean compound with its hidden courtyard is emblematic of the charisma of Greenwich Village. 

photographs by the author