The 1826 Livingston House - No. 149 Mercer Street

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In 1826 Robert Schuyler completed construction on a three-and-a-half story residence in the late Federal style at No. 149 Mercer Street.  Faced in Flemish bond red brick, it was similar to other comfortable dwellings appearing on the block between Prince and Houston Streets.

It is doubtful that Schuyler and his wife, the former Lucinda Wood, ever lived in the house; but built it as an investment.  Born into one of the oldest and wealthiest New York families (Philip Pieterse Schuyler had arrived by 1650), Robert's relatives were the Livingstons, DeLanceys, Van Cortlandts and Van Rensselaers.

Nevertheless, the residence was intended for a financially-comfortable family.  The entrance, above a shallow porch, was most likely flanked by fluted columns; and above the paneled door would have been a leaded transom, possibly in the form of a fanlight.  The stone lintels sat on delightful little paneled blocks and two neat dormers with triangular pediments pierced the peaked roof.  The 25-foot wide residence boasted 14 rooms--presumably four each on the main floors and two in the attic.

The architect added tiny paneled blocks below the lintels--a handsome touch.

By the 1850s the tenor of the neighborhood was drastically changing.  Greene Street, one block to the east, had gained the reputation of Manhattan's most notorious red light district.  Change would come to No. 149 Mercer Street when its owner died in 1855.

The former upscale tone of house and the neighborhood was evidenced when auctioneer William Witters advertised the sale of the residence and its contents, to be held at 10 a.m. on Thursday, April 19 that year.  He described "all the genteel household furniture, &c., in the above house--splendid carved rosewood parlor suits, mirrors, centre and side tables, window curtains, elegant carpets &c.; together with the furniture of fourteen rooms, all in good order."

The original joined chimneys survive.  photo via Preservinc.com

According to historian and preservationist Angela Serratore in her 2013 thesis "A Preservationist's Guide to the Harems, Seraglios, and Houses of Love of Manhattan: The 19th Century New York City Brothel in Two Neighborhoods," No. 149 Mercer Street became the brothel run by "Mrs. Van Ness."

Apparently Mrs. Van Ness operated in the house at least until 1859.  On June 27, 1862 it was offered "To let, at a low rent, with immediate possession."  The advertisement in The New York Herald boasted a "large yard, &c.; two entrances; one room convenient for a bar."

Madame Bell picked up where Mrs. Van Ness had left off.  Her name was brought up in court on February 17, 1864 when Sara R. Melville sued her husband, Henry, for divorce.

The couple has been married in February 1858; but Henry soon drifted.  The New York Times reported that Sara alleged he "has been in the habit of visiting a house of ill-fame at No. 149 Mercer-street, in this City, where he had committed various acts of adultery with one Mme. Bell and others."

Because Henry denied the charges, the scandalous details were aired in open court.  Readers of The Times could only speculate, however.  The newspaper said "the evidence is unfit for publication."

The Melville trial was not the first time the brothel had made the news.  A year earlier, on October 24, 1863 The New York Herald reported that a client had been robbed.  The newspaper used a nearly-comical euphemism to avoid saying outright that the victim was visiting a prostitute.

"James McClusky complained, before Justice Kelly, that while taking a peep at the elephant, in No. 149 Mercer street, on Thursday evening, he was relieved of his gold watch and chain, valued at $85.  He had grave suspicions as to the honesty of one of the lady boarders named Margaret J. Murphy."

Margaret had most likely felt secure in her crime.  Few victims reported such thefts for fear of the public scandal that would follow.  But she had lifted a rather pricey watch, the value of which would be around $1,675 today.  The Sun reported "The magistrate thought Margaret's movements smacked of dishonesty, and committed her for trial in default of $500 bail."

Prostitutes and scandals seem to have left No. 149 Mercer Street by 1871 when it was being operated as a boarding house.  On July 10 that year the proprietor advertised for "A good cook, middle aged woman preferred, for a private boarding house; will get a good home and liberal salary."

The venture was apparently short-lived.  On December 13 that year and auction was held, selling "the entire elegant, costly Furniture of a three story house, consisting of Velvet and Brusels Carpets, Parlor Suits, Bedsteads, Bedding, Hair Mattresses, Mirrors, &c."

It was the end of the line for No. 149 Mercer Street as a residential property.  C. Weisenstein was selling "saloon fixtures" here by 1876.  And in 1880 three businesses filled the former house.

Albert and Gustave Herzig operated their furrier business here.  Possibly father and son, they both lived at No. 309 East 56th Street.  The artificial flower making shop of Aline Lauretzi was on the second floor; and the clothing firm of Kolasky & Pottitzer occupied the main floor.  Abram and August Pottitzer, and their partner Fred Kolasky, sold hats, pants and "pantaloons."

It was most likely Kolasky & Pottizer who placed an advertisement that year for "experienced hands wanted on bead work; good pay."  Aline Lauretzi was hiring at the same time.  On September 7, 1880 an ad read "Artificial Flowers--Wanted, a young man who understands cutting and starching."  Five months later an advertisement in The Sun sought "Good hands on roses, buds, blossom; work given out; good wages."  The mention of "work given out" referred to the practice of workers--normally women--who did piece work in their homes.

A change in tenants came by 1885 when H. Schoenfeld and S. Schoenfeld sold "millinery fixtures" here; and M. Feigel & Bro. operated from the basement and lower floors.  Originally M. Feigel & Bro. dealt in paints and oils used for building purposes--coloring mortar, for example.

Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, June 27, 1885 (copyright expired)

Before long the firm branched out, importing and manufacturing "colors, dye-stuffs, varnishes, bleaching agents" and other chemicals necessary in the production of hats.  The Millinery Trade Review mentioned in January 1889 "They have all the dyes, chemicals, colors, anilines, alcohols, acids, salts varnishes, etc., etc., needed and used by manufacturers of straw goods, feathers, and flowers.

The chemicals and products used were highly flammable and dangerous.  Millinery Trade Review, January 1889 (copyright expired)

The combustible stock caught fire in September 1887, and again two months later.  This time it caused a near panic along Mercer Street.  On November 5  The New York Times reported "A fire broke out at 6 o'clock last evening in the cellar of the building 149 Mercer-street, occupied by Feigel & Brother, dealers in oils, paints, and varnishes.  It was caused by the ignition of benzine,, and a cloud of dense smoke rushed out into the street."

Next door was the feather factory of J. Weill & Co., where 50 young women were working; and the furrier shop of Lyon Brothers where another 100 were at work.  "When the girls heard of the fire and saw the smoke they imagined that the buildings where they are employed were on fire and they became panic-stricken and rushed for the stairs."  Supervisors reassured the women that there was no danger and sent them back to their places.

A bizarre incident involving the theft of six barrels of oil from M. Feigel & Bro. occurred in December 1889.  By an amazing fluke, a Feigel employee was passing by the home of Union Hill, New Jersey Councilman Daniel Sturm and noticed the politician with two of the barrels.  He notified police and Sturm was arrested.

The councilman's alibi was suspicious.  The Times wrote "Mr. Sturm says that he received the barrels innocently.  His wife gave a stranger permission to leave the oil under his shed."  According to him, she he found out about it, he "immediately started to roll the barrels into the street."  That was when he was spotted.

No. 149 was owned at the time by Louise E. Monnot, who had inherited it from George Ponsot.   Like George, who lived in Paris, Louise was an absentee landlord, residing in London.  Her attorneys, the Coudert Brothers, managed the property.

M. Feigel & Bro. was gone from Mercer Street by the turn of the century.  By now No. 149 was a stark anachronism, surrounded by tall loft buildings.  By 1913 the Forest Box and Lumber Co. had moved into the first floor; and in 1915 the Dorothy Waist Company, run by Max Goldberg, was on an upper story.

Goldberg's operation would supply the break into a scandalous arson and theft scheme following a fire on June 25, 1915.   When Lieutenant Gibney from the nearby Fire Truck Company 20 responded with his men, he found that the doors to Dorothy Waist Company had already been broken into.

After the blaze was extinguished, Goldberg realized that $800 worth of custom silk and $400 worth of cutting machinery were missing.  The pattern of the silk was unique; so when it was found in the tailor shop of Simon Lidz on Orchard Street, it was easily identified.  According to The Evening World, Lidz "asserts he had for years bought loot from firemen of Truck No. 20 and from those of another company."

Two firefighters, John P. S. Ferrick and William Maloney, were indicted on charges of burglary and grand larceny.  The pair would break into businesses, steal goods, then set the buildings on fire to hide the crimes.

In 1918 the Couderts engaged architect Ellwood Williams to do $1,800 in renovations.  It is possibly at this time that a large opening was broken into the first floor wall for the box and lumber company.

Two years later the estate of Louise E. Monnot sold the building to its tenant of five years, the Forest Box and Lumber Company.  The asking price, $22,500, would be equal to about $266,000 today.  The firm changed its name to the Mercer Box and Lumber Company by 1922.  It would remain in the building, producing pine boxes like those used for fruit, into the 1960s.

The change in Soho from a gritty industrial neighborhood to one of art galleries, artists' lofts and performance venues began in the last quarter of the 20th century.  In 1978 No. 149 Mercer Street was converted to "joint living-work quarters for artists;" just one per floor.

By 1986 the Ubu Reportory Theatre was using the ground floor; and in 1991 the Bullot Gallery was here, sharing space with After the Rain, a trendy gift shop which opened in December 1989.  An opening advertisement said it featured "New York's most extensive collection of kaleidoscopes and optical toys."

Prior to the restoration the dormers were in sorry repair and the fascia board below the roofline had fallen away.  photo via Preservinc.com

In 2003 a facade restoration was completed by preservation architects Preserv.  The brickwork and dormers were repaired, new period-appropriate wooden windows were installed, and a synthetic slate roof installed.

After nearly 200 years the miraculous survivor is a reminder of a time when this stretch of Mercer Street was lined with merchant-class homes; and of a less respectable period when ladies of the night snatched valuables from their unwitting clients.

photographs by the author

The Mission of the Immaculate Virgin Convent -- No. 381 Lafayette St.

Lafayette Place in 1839 was still an exclusive residential neighborhood.  Wealthy merchant Alexander Mactier, whose office was at No. 153 South Street, lived at No. 6, just north of Great Jones Street.  It was an elegant four-story residence with a high stoop.  Its 27-foot width reflected the elevated social and financial status of the family.

In 1847 Dr. Alexander H. Stevens owned the house.  An esteemed surgeon, he had also been a member of the New-York Historical Society since 1817.  One of New York’s most well-known physicians, he was a Professor of Clinical Surgery at Columbia College.  The Stevens family was still here as late as 1866; but in 1868 the house was advertised for rent.

Stevens may have left Lafayette Place, like so many of his wealthy neighbors, because of encroaching commerce.  His new tenant exemplified the change in the district.  On March 18, 1868 a notice appeared in The New York Herald announcing “Madame Ferrero, No. 6 Lafayette Place, near Great Jones street, will open Paris Millinery on Thursday, March 19.”

Madade Ferrero catered to the Manhattan’s carriage trade and her imported European creations would grace the heads of the city’s wealthiest women.  On April 18, 1869 a New York Herald notice advised “Mme. Ferrero, No. 6 Lafayette Place, has now open an elegant assortment of Millinery; the new Summer Hat, ‘l’Italienne;’ also very choice styles of Paris Round Hats.”

By 1872 another commercial tenant was in the house.  Dr. Stuart advertised his “Electric Magnetic Treatment” on October 17 that year.  “Nervous Debility, Dyspepsia and other derangements treated by Electro-Magnetism.  Cures guaranteed in one interview.”

Stevens placed the house for sale in 1873, his agent noting it was perfect for “dwelling or business purposes.”  It was purchased by Parker Mann and his wife, Julia.  If the couple lived here at all, they had relocated to Washington DC by 1888.  That year on June 1 they sold the house to The Mission of the Immaculate Virgin for the Protection of Homeless and Destitute Children for $22,500 (about $578,000 in 2016 terms). 

The Mission of the Immaculate Virgin, deemed by the New-York Tribune to be “a home for friendless children,” was founded at Mount Loretto, Staten Island, around 1870 by Rev. John C. Drumgolle.   In 1880 the mission erected the St. Joseph’s Home at Nos. 2 and 4 Lafayette Place on the site of the old St. Bartholomew’s Church, abutting the former Stevens house.

In 1891 Gustav Kobbe in his New York and Its Environs explained that the Home had two divisions:  “Those in the first division, destitute, homeless boys, who await the time when sufficiently strong and possessed of a good rudimentary and industrial education they may enter some trade, store or office in which the Mission secures them work, reside in the home.  The second division is for working boys who pay whatever they can for the excellent accommodations afforded them, and are apt, thanks to this Mission, to become self-supporting, honest and industrious citizens.”

The St. Joseph’s Home was run by the Sisters of St. Francis.  The newly-purchased house was conveniently located to become a convent and chapel for the nuns.

At the time of the purchase architect Benjamin E. Lowe had just completed plans for a Romanesque Revival chapel building for the St. Charles Boromeo Church on West 141th Street.  Within the year he would be working on the Lafayette Place project for the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin.

In March 1890 Lowe filed plans to alter the old residence, including “raised two stories, one-story and basement extension, interior alterations and walls altered.”  The rear extension would take the form of a chapel.  The extensive alterations, completed in 1891, would cost the Mission $40,000 and included a handsome up-to-date architectural facelift.

The renovated convent sits to the left of the hulking St. Joseph's Home.  King's Handbook of New York City 1892 (copyright expired)

Lowe eliminated the high stoop while retaining the original lines of the entrance—resulting in a dramatic nearly two-story doorway.  The brick-faced Northern Renaissance Revival design included decorative details executed in terra cotta, brownstone and brick—a deeply corbelled cornice, decorative bandcourses and eyebrows.  Most eye-catching were the elaborate bowl-like treatments below some openings.

 

The Mission was apparently pleased with Lowe’s work.  The conversion was barely completed when he filed plans for a $275,000 church building on Staten Island for the Mission, and for a $90,000 “brick and stone laundry building” there.

The convent building also housed the administrative offices of St. Joseph’s Home.  Rev. James J. Dougherty, one of the Directors, had his office in the building.  He was shocked and infuriated when he picked up a newspaper in May 1898 and read an article in which the Commissioners of Accounts accused the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin of overcharging the city for its wards.

Among the examples given was the case of John Kane.  The boy had arrived at the home on February 4, 1892 and remained there until July 3, 1895 when, according to Dougherty, “he was transferred to the Home for Simple-Minded Boys on Randall’s Island.”

Incensed and accusing the city examiners of “gross carelessness,” Dougherty fired off a letter to The Sun.  “The Mission of the Immaculate Virgin never received one cent from the city of New York for the support of this John Kane,” he insisted.  “During his stay with us he was supported, as so many other hundreds of our boys are, entirely at the expense of the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin.”

Dougherty was careful not to say that all the boys in the Home were entirely supported by the Mission.  As Gustave Kobbe had explained, there were two types of boys housed in the St. Joseph’s Home.  The Directory of Social and Health Agencies of New York clarified in 1902 that the organization paid for “until employment is found for them, healthy boys, Catholic or otherwise, from 16 to 20 years of age, who are not criminals, but can furnish some references, and are without friends, entirely destitute.” 

The second group of boys included those who could contribute to their board.  “It also provides meals and lodgings at $2 a week to newsboys, bootblacks, and other working boys able to pay, and instructs them spiritually and mentally.”

Interestingly, the Mission opened its doors to needy adults for Christmas dinner in 1904.  The New-York Tribune reported that “Fifteen hundred men and women were fed by the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin, at Lafayette Place and Great Jones-st.  The feast lasted from noon until 4 o’clock in the afternoon.  Father Fitzpatrick greeted each guest as he or she entered with a ‘Merry Christmas.’”

The Christmas dinner for adults may have been a one-time occurrence.   In 1908 the Tribune reported only on “the waifs cared for” by the Mission who “received a big dinner and also gifts from a great tree.”

In 1911 The Sun commented with some melancholy on the changes in the neighborhood following the sale of the old Astor Library building.  “The library has held more of America’s greatest literary men than any other building in the country, and its sale to a builder for improvement with a loft building will be a hard blow to its sentimental friends.”  The newspaper added “This seems inevitable, as it is with the exception of the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin, at Great Jones and Lafayette streets the only building in that section not used for business…This row was once the homes of some of the finest families in the city.  In one of these houses Mrs. Walter Langdon, daughter of John Jacob Astor lived.”

The changing climate of the area was further reflected when, in 1918, the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin abandoned St. Joseph’s Home and “the greater part of the work was transferred to the Mission’s headquarters at Mount Loretto, Staten Island,” according to The Times.  The vacant nine-story building was sold in May 1925 to the Grand Lodge of the Order of the Sons of Italy.

The group had grandiose plans for the structure and initiated a $1 million fund-raising campaign to convert it to a “great Italian community centre.”  But, as explained later by The Times, “eventually, due to internal dissensions, the scheme failed to materialize and the Mission was forced to take back the property at foreclosure sale in January, 1928.”

By now Lafayette Place had been renamed Lafayette Street and the convent building renumbered 381.  And the St. Joseph’s Home building was a white elephant on the shoulders of the Mission’s directors.  In August 1929 it sold the hulking structure which had stood vacant for a decade.  Shortly afterward, on October 6, The New York Times announced “Demolition of an old building on Lafayette Street which, for nearly half a century, was a well-known home for newsboys and destitute children, will begin this week.”  It was to be replaced with a gasoline station.

Sobol Brothers, owners of a chain of service stations, may have anticipated public dismay at the demolition of the old landmark.  An officer of the firm promised “something special” in the form of a “super-service station” possessing “genuine architectural charm and finished in terra-cotta.”

The Times mentioned “The adjoining structure at 381 Lafayette Street is still owned and occupied by the Mission and used for its city work.”

And rather startlingly, the Mission remained in the building until 1965.  On November 8, 1965 The Times reported “After an ownership of 77 years, the five-story building at 381 Lafayette Street has been sold by the Roman Catholic Mission of the Immaculate Virgin to Albert N. Roemer, who intends to alter the premises.”

Instead, the former convent was resold to artist Robert Rauschenberg who planned to use it as the center of his artistic work.  The artist’s work, by now, included large-scale sculptures and performances pieces which required large space.  The building doubled as Rauschenberg’s home.

Robert Rauschenberg posed outside the building in 1965.  He later used the chapel in the rear to store artwork.  photo via The Standard

In October 1969 Rauschenberg left New York for Los Angeles for work.  Around 3:15 on the afternoon of October 25 a passerby noticed wisps of smoke escaping from the windows.  Fire fighters responding to the blaze crashed through a skylight on the fifth floor.  Maurice Carroll of The Times poetically reported “But the old building apparently was tightly sealed and, like a rusty red aerosol container, it squirted out billows of smoke as soon as firemen broke the windows.“

Somewhat surprisingly, the fire fighters recognized that they were in the midst of sculptures, photo montages and silk-screen artwork.  They carefully stepped around the pieces, valued at about $200,000 in total.

The blaze in what Carroll described as a “weather-grimed building” was brought under control by 4:38.  Rauschenberg’s assistant, Brice Marden carefully checked the art, including a sculpture “Oracle” valued at $120,000, and said there was little damage that could not be repaired.

The article mentioned the much-changed Lafayette Street.  “It is a bleak warehouse neighborhood.  Two oblivious drunks lurched past the fire, stumbling over the hoses that curled across the sidewalk.”

Brutal fire escapes disguise the superb architectural details, including the story-and-a-half entrance.

In 2008 the conservation architectural firm Preserv  completed a restoration of the façade that included a complete disassembly and rebuilding of the intricate brick cornice, cleaning and repointing of the brick, and reconstructing damaged brownstone elements.  The building is still home to the Robert Rauschenberg Foundation.

photographs by the author