The Power & Kern Saloon Building - 70 Prince Street

 

The neighborhood around St. Patrick's Cathedral on Mulberry Street, completed in 1815, was filled with a mixture of residents in 1827.  It was about that time that Patrick Sherryd erected four similar brick houses on the southern blockfront of Prince Street between Lafayette Street and Crosby Streets.  Unlike the refined mansions that would soon rise on nearby Bond Street and Astor Place, Sherryd’s three-story homes were middle-class.  No. 70, on the corner of Crosby, was faced in Flemish-bond red brick above a ground floor store.  It rose to a simple wooden cornice below a shallow hip roof with tiny dormers.

 
The first occupant of the ground floor was Lewis T. Stansbery, who ran a grocery store.  By 1836, he had changed courses and ran a clothing store at 477 Greenwich Street.  The grocery was operated by Christian Febrock as early as 1840.  Around 1856, grocer William Lohmann extended the building to the rear and installed the residential entrance at 105 Crosby Street.  Lohmann and his family lived in the upper floors.  His Lohmann & Ording grocery was one of two, the other being at 117 Bleecker Street. 
 
The Lohmanns took in roomers.  Among them in 1856 was John Boyle, who taught in the Boys’ Department of Ward School No. 4 on Marion Street near Prince.  But the shadier character of some of the residents was reflected in the arrest of Alfred Howard on July 26, 1867 during a raid on “policy” dealers.  Policy rackets were a version of a numbers game or illegal lottery that preyed on the desperate poor.  Police Officer Lacy of the 14^th Precinct charged Howard with running a policy game, “he having purchased a ‘policy’ ticket from Howard for the sum of four cents,” reported The New York Times.
 
In the meantime, the Lohmanns moved to Wooster Street in 1860.  Dederick and Richard Gerken now ran the grocery store and lived upstairs.  A significant change came in 1867 when John Shewell converted the store into a saloon.  He was charged on December 29, 1868 for violating the excise laws, most likely for having the saloon open on Sunday.
 
Well-to-do New Yorkers left the oppressive city heat by spending the summer months at country homes or resorts.  The less affluent had to suffer and, in many cases, died.  Such was the case of 49-year-old Henry Blesses on June 29, 1869.  Described as “a German,” by The New York Times, he died suddenly in his room, “supposed to be the result of the heat.”
 
In 1871, Abraham W. Burnett, whose family lived upstairs, took over the saloon.  And around 1876 it became the Powers & Kerns saloon, operated by Frank Kerns and Edward Power, whose families--like Burnett's had done--lived above the business.  Their less visible partner was Alderman Patrick Napoleon Oakley. 
 
Saloons in the 19^th century, at a time when almost every male carried a weapon, were often dangerous places.  In 1879, Jim Poole shot Pat McGowan here, landing him in Sing Sing Prison for ten years.
 
The outspoken and colorful Patrick Oakley was a member of the Marion Club, a political group with ties to Tammany Hall.  It used a room on the second floor for meetings.  In 1880, the room was also being used as the meeting place of the Metropolitan Hancock and English Campaign Club.  (Winfield Hancock and William English were the Democratic Presidential and Vice Presidential candidates in 1880.)
 
By then, John Edward Power, Edward’s son, had been a partner in Power & Kerns for at least a year.  He, like Oakley, was an assemblyman.  Born on May 15, 1850, he attended public schools and Cooper Union before working in a machine shop as a pattern maker.  He was married in 1873 in the Mott Street cathedral to Mary Louise Donohue and the couple had two children.
 
In 1886, the City Reform Club wrote of him, “He now keeps a liquor-saloon at 70 Prince St.  This saloon has many thieves and prostitutes among its customers.”  The organization's scathing assessment of him said in part:
 

As a legislator, Mr. Power was not as useful or as harmful as he might have been.  If he can be commended in the least, it is because some of his colleagues were apparently much more corrupt.  He was as unfit for the place which he held as any keeper of a low saloon must be…He was controlled by the bosses in New York City.

 
The New York Times accused him of hiding his partnership in the saloon.  On October 24, 1886, it reported that he, “sells ales, wines, beers, and spirituous liquors in Prince-street.  He conceals the fact from his friends in the country by telling them in his biography, printed in the Albany Political Almanac, that he ‘is now interested in the hotel business.’  He tells them also in the same article that ‘he is descended from one of the best families of Ireland.’”
 
The year following the blistering remarks, Oakley and Power replaced the saloon front.  The new street level façade included cast iron columns and a large window.  But later that year, John Power would have other things to think about.
 
On October 19, 1887, The New York Times wrote, “Assemblyman James E. Power has got himself in trouble.”  For years Power had been a friend of Richard W. Conroy, who ran a Sixth Avenue saloon.  The newspaper said Conroy, “lived with his wife at 116 Waverley-place happily enough until May 30 last, when, coming home later than usual from his club, he found Power in the bedroom with his wife, Mary Louise Conroy.”  Saying, “Power keeps a saloon at Prince and Crosby streets,” The Times reported that Conroy had filed suit for $20,000 in damages against the assemblyman.
 
During the campaign of 1890, Oakley openly served liquor on Sundays as part of his campaign.  On Monday November 3 that year The New York Times reported:
 

There was a strong smell of fresh varnish yesterday in the demure white saloon of Alderman Patrick Napoleon Oakley at 70 Prince Street, and the floor was shiny in spots, as though in course of preparation for a ball.  The blinds were discretely drawn, but the two back doors swung noiselessly on their hinges and the beer pump beat the record of the old oaken bucket long before the day was over.  A policeman hovered near, but he devoted his attention to a gang of wicked small boys.  Two bartenders were on duty all day, and the saloon was at least half full of people nearly all the time.

 

Alderman Oakley was on hand, and he held frequent consultations with his visitors on the subject of the election.  Some campaigning was also in progress, and there was a noticeable proportion of young men, some of them mere lads, among the patrons of the bar.  Up stairs, the ‘Marion Club’ was in session.

 
The New York Press had a decidedly different opinion of the Assemblyman.  Following the election that year, it said he, “came to the rescue of his constituents like the refreshing shadow of a rock in the great desert where cooling waters are to be found…He is a native of Ireland, 43 years old, and a thorough American.”
 
The danger of burglarizing the business of two politically connected men did not deter two thieves on March 23, 1891.  The Evening World reported, “Thomas Kilimet and Thomas Sheridan were caught breaking into Alderman Oakley’s saloon, on Prince street, at 2:30 this morning, and were held at the Tombs Court.”
 
Patrick Napoleon Oakley was home at the time, suffering from a severe cold he had caught two days earlier.  It quickly developed into pneumonia, and he died just after midnight on March 26, 1891.  The World was glowing in its recap of his political accomplishments and focused on his prominence in the Ancient Order of Foresters, his memberships in the Knights of St. Patrick, the Marion Club, and the Catholic Benevolent Legion.  The newspaper only briefly mentioned, “He was the owner of two saloons, one at Canal and Mott streets and the other at Prince and Crosby streets.”
 
The saloon business was taken over by H. D. Dircksen and, apparently, his son, A. E. Dircksen.   They operated the saloon here at least until 1905.
 
The heavily Irish neighborhood saw the influx of Italian immigrants in the last decade of the century and in 1899 Antonio Sciarra received approval from the city to run his fruit stand on the Crosby Street side of the building.  Two years later, Giuseppe Porfillio replaced him with his own fruit stand there.
 
The enactment of Prohibition necessarily changed the personality of the ground floor, which became a barbershop.  The upstairs portion remained residential.  In 1922, A. Solomon, who was in the silk business, lived here with his family.  They were still here in 1935 when son Lester passed the New York State bar exam.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

As early as 1982, the former saloon space held The Crosby Luncheonette.  The restaurant would have an ongoing and unhappy relationship with the Department of Health.  In March 1982, it reopened after having been closed for health violations.  It was shut down again in September that year, reopened in October, and was closed again in June 1983. 
 
It became the Rodriguez Restaurant which, like its predecessor, was closed by the Department of Health in June 1984, cited again in 1985, and again in April 1986.
 
But in 1990, the Soho neighborhood was seeing a rebirth as galleries opened in its vast cast iron structures.  Trendy shops and restaurants opened, including Savoy at 70 Prince.  The American-Mediterranean bistro was a popular destination for over two decades.  The second floor was converted to a dining room, while the uppermost floor was listed in Department of Buildings records as a “one family home.”
 
Then, in June 2011, owner Peter Hoffman served the last dinner here with an $85 five-course menu.  Less than a year later, on February 29, 2012, Peter Hoffman announced he would open a version of his East Village restaurant, Back Forty, here.  Called Back Forty West, its glass and metal store front cleverly exposes the cast iron column that survives from Oakley’s and Power’s 1887 renovation.
 

Renovations to the top floor apartment were underway in 2025.

Surrounded by 19^th century factory lofts, the 200-year-old 70 Prince Street and its contemporary next door are unexpected survivors.  The second floor continues to house part of the ground floor restaurant, and there is one apartment on the top floor.  

The 1827 Daniel Lake House - 68 Prince Street

 

The two dormers were reduced in size in the second half of the 20th century.

Dr. Daniel Lake lived and operated his practice at 68 Prince Street as early as 1830.  The three-and-a-half story house and store had been erected about three years earlier by Patrick Sherryd, one of four similar structures that filled the narrow, southern blockfront between Lafayette Place (later Lafayette Street) and Crosby Street.  Faced in Flemish bond brick, its attic level was pierced with two dormers.

The shop at the ground floor was occupied by David Levi, a "spectacle maker," at the time.  He remained until the spring of 1832 when an advertisement in The Evening Post offered the store for rent.  It became home to Henry Dominick's grocery store.  He and his family shared the upstairs portion of the house with John P. Butler, a coach maker whose factory was nearby at 78 Crosby Street.  

Elizabeth Dominick, Henry's widowed mother, died here on the evening of February 5, 1837.  Her funeral was held in the house two days later.  The Dominick family left Prince Street shortly afterward, replaced by Dr. Jonas G. Hewett.

On October 4, 1837, an announcement in the New York Morning Herald said in part:

BONE SETTING--DOCTOR HEWETT, Bone Setter, informs the public, that such has been the increase of his practice in this city, he is now obliged to confine his operations to his own rooms, No. 68 Prince street, except in cases where patients are too lame to attend.  Such he will continue to visit at their own homes.

The announcement explained that Hewett attended to "dislocations, fractures, sprains, hip diseases, white swellings, nervous, paralytic and rheumatic affections, contractions, curvature of the spine and other deformities, weakness of the limbs, &c."  

By 1840, Hewett had taken an associate, Dr. J. Sweet, who listed his profession as "surgeon bonesetter."  At the time, John P. Butler still lived in the upper floors.

In 1841, the ground floor space became home to the B. & J. Maguire saloon and the Maguire family moved into upstairs rooms.  They shared the space with at least one other resident, Daniel Clark.  That year, on June 1, Hugh Maguire, "son of the late Hugh Maguire," as reported by The Evening Post, died here and his funeral held in the parlor on June 4.  

At around 10:30 on the night of December 16, 1845, Policeman Wright Case was walking his beat on Lafayette Place when, according to the New-York Tribune, he, "heard some person crying murder most lustily."  Case ran to The Bowery and Third Avenue where he found Daniel Clark on the pavement with a severe cut over his eye.  Clark explained to the officer that he had gone into a store to get a $5 bill changed, and was followed by a man who attempted to rob him.  The would-be thief was disappointed, however.  Scared away by Clark's cries, he escaped with only his victim's hat.  The incident prompted the New York Morning Courier to decry, "It is not to be denied...that the city is infested by numerous ruffians, to whom the temptation of a few dollars would be too great to deter them from the commission of any act."

By 1850, John O'Connor, a bricklayer and mason, moved his family into the house.  Around this time, Andre Vincent opened his "framegilding" operation in the former saloon space.  The O'Connor family took in a surprising number of boarders, given the size of the house.  Living with the O'Connors in 1853 were Antonine Chaplain, a "pianofortemaker;" Edward Coffee, a laborer; coachman William B. Coleman; and Peter Kerwin, a tailor.

The O'Connor family would remain at 68 Prince Street for years.  In 1860, Michael O'Connor was working as a police officer, and in 1864 Mary C. O'Connor began teaching in the Primary Department of School No. 20 on Chrystie Street.

The population of 68 Prince Street had decreased by then.  Living with the O'Connors in 1864 were John Brogan, an ostler (a handler of horses); and Mary and William Midgley.  

The Midgleys were an enterprising couple.  Mary ran a millinery and home furnishings shop on Broadway, and her husband was head of William Midgley & Co., artificial flowers, at 331 Canal Street.  (No doubt William's wares found their way into Mary's creations.)  The couple would reside here at least through 1872.

In 1867, the shop was home to one of the two Stigler & Vogt "segar" stores, owned by Charles Vogt and Rudolph Stigler.  Along with  cigars, it sold related items like pipes and tobacco.  Apparently, Stigler or one of the clerks had a musical bent.  On October 1, The New York Times reported that 19-year-old Johnson W. Mitchell had been arraigned on two charges of larceny.  "On Saturday afternoon the premises No. 68 Prince-street were entered, and a guitar and a lot of pipes valued at $43, the property of Rudolph Stigler, were stolen."

An ad in the New York Herald on September 30, 1869 offered "neatly furnished rooms, for one or two gentlemen."  The rent was $2 per week (just over $45 in 2025).

A public auction of all the furnishings was held in the house on February 18, 1874.  Among the items were "black walnut, mahogany and cottage sets," wardrobes, and "lounges."  Everything was sold, including the "stair carpets and oilcloths."  Three years later, on July 12, 1877, the property was sold at a foreclosure auction to Peter Bayaud.  Bayaud purchased the property as an investment.  The store was leased to David Jais, who continued it as a cigar store.

Around 1882, Peter Bayaud moved to Paris.  In February 1883, he leased the building to August Ernst to manage.  The following month, Ernst hired builder J. Derr to make "front and interior alterations," according to the Record & Guide.  The renovations, which cost the equivalent of $22,000 today, were in anticipation of the new ground floor tenant, J. Rubsam & Co., saloon owners.

The Jamm family lived above the saloon in 1894.  There was a snowstorm that winter and on February 12 13-year-old George Jamm went out to shovel snow.  As a horse-drawn street car passed by, the mischievous teen pulled a prank that he would regret.  Riding on the platform of the car was 29-year-old Julius Downs, a bookkeeper.  The young professional would have been dressed dapperly as he headed to work.

As the streetcar passed 68 Prince Street, Downs was smacked with a snowball.  He jumped off the car and accused Jamm, who denied having pelted him.  The Evening World reported, "Downs threw him down, took his shovel away, and struck the boy over the back with it."  George Jamm had Downs arrested for assault.

Theodore L. Bayaud, presumably Peter's son, sold 68 Prince Street in February 1897 to Michael Lapp and Charles Haushalter for $13,500 (about $512,000 in today's money).   Three months later, Charles Haushalter took over the operation of the saloon.

After Charles Haushalter's death in 1900, brewers F. & M. Schaefer & Co. signed the lease.  Adam and Margaretha Lictenberger would run the saloon for Schaefer & Co. for years.  The tavern would, of course, end in 1920 with the enactment of Prohibition.

An interesting tenant in the upper portion rented a room in 1921.  The advertisement he placed in The New York Times on May 8 sounded too good to be real:

To Collectors or Dealers: Gentleman just arrived from Italy with 27 rare oil paintings--originals of great artists of 13th and 16th centuries from the Roman galleries of a princely family.  On view by appointment only.  For information apply Mr. O. Catalucci, 68 Prince St., N. Y. City.

In 1933, with just months before Prohibition was repealed, Charles Danzo leased the ground floor of 68 Prince Street.  It would become home to Charlie's Tavern, a neighborhood watering hole for decades to come.  He and his wife, the former Amelia Rizzo, and their ten children lived above the bar.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Depression treated the Danzos much more kindly than the building's owner, who lost it in foreclosure to the bank.  On January 5, 1938, The New York Times reported that the Metropolitan Savings Bank had sold "the three-story residence" to an investor.

With the country's entry into World War II, John Danzo left to fight in Europe.  At the end of the conflict, Danzo was still stationed in war-worn Paris.  On December 21, 1945, The Sun reported on the G.I.s who were trying to recreate something like an American Christmas.  The long article said in part,

A 100-mile drive to find a Christmas tree was the odyssey of John Danzo, whose mother owns Charlie's Tavern at 68 Prince street, New York.  His buddy, Homer Johnson, of Burkesville, Ky., thrice blitzed in England's air raids, has promised turkey for the party that John is organizing and he has collected eighty pounds of candy for the kids.  Both men hope it will be their last Christmas away from home.  Christmas in Paris has no lure for them.  John, like hundreds of other absent fathers, wants to play Santa Claus for his own 3-year-old boy in New York.

With the Depression in the rear view mirror and World War II over, the Danzo family branched out.  In 1947, they opened the Hotel Charles in Rockaway Beach--an "annex of Charlie's Cafe," as worded in an advertisement in the Wave of Long Island.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Trouble came in September 1967, when undercover officers visited Charlie's Tavern on three separate instances.  In a hearing on February 1, 1968, Officer James Restivo testified that on September 26 the previous year, he and John Danzo, after a "short conversation," looked over the horse racing section of a newspaper.  Then Restivo filled out betting slips and gave them to Danzo along with the money for his bets.  Similar testimonies followed from other police officers.  Charlie's Tavern's liquor license was temporarily suspended for running a gambling operation.

By the mid-1980s, Charlie's Tavern was gone.  Pasquale Ursitti, the widower of Grace Danzo, told The New York Times reporter Gregory Jaynes in January 1988, "They're all dead, Grace and her family.  Five brothers and five sisters."

In 2001, the East Hampton restaurant Hampton Chutney Co. opened a branch at 68 Prince Street.  Its South Indian cuisine drew patrons seeking dosa or uttapa at least through 2016.

Today there are two apartments in the upper floors.  The footwear store Vivaia opened here in 2024.

photographs by the author

Old St. Patrick's Convent and Girls' School - 32-36 Prince Street

 

During British rule, Roman Catholic worship was illegal in New York City.  And although anti-Catholic sentiments were still strong after the Revolution, the Roman Catholic population was such that on April 8, 1808 the sprawling diocese of New York was created--covering all of New York State, New Jersey, and several Long Island counties.  On May 14, 1815, the first Catholic cathedral in America, St. Patrick's, was dedicated at Mulberry and Spring Streets.

Two years later, Bishop John Connolly reached out to Elizabeth Seton, the founder of the Sisters of Charity in Emmitsburg, Maryland.  Hers was the first religious community of women in the United States, and in 1810 she opened St. Joseph Academy Emmitsburg.  In 1814, she sent sisters to establish an orphanage in Philadelphia.

In his 1877 A Popular History of the Catholic Church in the United States, John O'Kane Murray writes:

In 1817, Bishop Connolly, of New York...applied to the Superior-General of the Sisters of Charity, at Emmittsburg [sic], for some Sisters to take charge of an orphan asylum in his episcopal city.  The new mission was confided to the pious and zealous Sister Rose White, and two companions.  On the 13th of September they took charge of St. Patrick's Asylum, corner of Prince and Mott [sic] streets. 

Murray was mistaken regarding the original site.  The "humble" structure, as he worded, sat at Prince and Mulberry Street.  When the nuns arrived in 1817, they cared for 30 Catholic orphans.  (The purpose of a Catholic orphanage was to prevent the foundlings and orphans from "being lost to the faith" in a Protestant institution.)

In 1824, land at the corner of Prince and Mott Streets, overlooking the churchyard of St. Patrick's Cathedral, was donated by C. Heeney as a site for a permanent structure.  When Bishop John Connolly died on February 6, 1825, construction had already begun.  On October 14, The Evening Post reported on the "charity sermon" to be preached by Rev. Mr. Power two days later at St. Peter's Church on Barclay Street.  The article said, "a collection [will be] taken up, the proceeds of which will be appropriated towards building the Orphan Asylum now erecting at the corner of Prince and Mott streets."

Completed in 1826, the dignified, Federal-style structure was impressive.  The architect, whose name is lost, configured the Prince Street elevation into three sections--the end pavilions projecting forward from the five-bay section.  The three-story-and-attic structure sat upon a brick basement level trimmed with brownstone quoins.  The attic levels of the end wings were designed as triangular pediments with round windows, while the center portion sprouted three tall, handsome dormers.  

The building was faced in red Flemish bond brick.  Its brownstone-framed entrance above a wide stoop was equal to that of the finest mansions in the city.  Below an elegant, leaded fanlight, Ionic columns flanked the paneled door against wood carved to imitate stone blocks.  On either side of the leaded sidelights, half-columns disappeared into the wall. 

On the Mott Street side, two prominent chimneys flanked the central gable, which incorporated an arched window.  At the base of the chimneys at this level were two blind quarter-round openings.

On Thanksgiving day 1828, the diocese published a plea in The Evening Post that said in part, "the wants of the Asylum are very pressing; during the coming winter there will be nearly ninety orphans to provide for, and when it is remembered that those are both fatherless and motherless, and have no friends on earth to look to, it is hoped this appeal in their behalf will be favourably [sic] received."

The article said that the Managers of the Orphan Asylum would open the building to the public the following day as "an opportunity of judging of its merit...At the same time, they will have an opportunity to examine the establishment throughout, and to obtain every information respecting the economy and regularity thereof."

The needs for the Orphan Asylum grew rapidly.  The sisters who cared and housed 30 orphans in 1817 were the wards of 140 children by January 1833.  

Four years later, the 11-year-old structure was threatened with demolition.  The aldermen considered a serious proposal in November 1837 that would extend Centre Street northward to meet the Bowery at the intersection of Bleecker Street.  The Street Committee favored the plan, saying it "would affect property less disadvantageously" than other proposals.  Nevertheless, one property that would be disadvantageously affected was the Orphan Asylum, which sat directedly in the path of the project.

At the meeting of the Board of Assistant Aldermen on November 20, 1837, it was decided that the Asylum was more valuable than the Centre Street project.  The minutes noted that the plot that C. Heeney had donated was "for the purposes of an Orphan Asylum, so long as it shall be so applied."  So, were the building demolished, the property would revert to Heeney, "and prove a total loss to the Asylum."  The committee declined the proposition.

And still the population of the Orphan Asylum continued to grow.  On March 9, 1838, the institution's treasurer, John B. Lasala, announced in the Morning Herald, "The public is respectfully informed that there are at present in this Asylum nearly two hundred orphan children, depending entirely on the generosity of our fellow citizens."

By 1845, Archbishop John Hughes recognized the need for two separate facilities--a boys' and a girls' orphanage.  The Roman Catholic Orphan Asylum for boys was completed in 1851 on Fifth Avenue and 51st Street.  The Prince Street Asylum was now a girls-only facility.  On June 15, 1859, a visitor from The New York Times described his visit, saying in part:

There are four apartments used as school-rooms, one of which, for the larger girls, has been newly furnished within two weeks, and is very neat and convenient.  There are two dormitories, capable of lodging fifty children each; they were scrupulously neat, and well ventilated.  The Infirmary, happily, has not, at present, one patient in it.  The Chapel, which is on the Mott-street side of the house, is well adapted for the use of the inmates.  Mass is performed every morning, at which all the children attend.  There are now three hundred and twenty little girls here between the ages of four and thirteen, whose cheerful faces and neatly clothed persons indicate that they are very happy in the care of the sisters of Charity.

The 69th Regiment of the New York State Militia, known as the "Fighting Irish," marched past the Prince Street Asylum (left) in 1861 as they departed to fight in the Civil War.  (At the right is the graveyard of St. Patrick's Cathedral.)  from D. T. Valentine's Manuel, 1862 (copyright expired)

A horrific accident occurred here on April 9, 1868.  Margaret Brown, who was 14 years old, was alone in the refectory that morning.  Somehow, her clothes caught fire from a candle.  Before help could arrive, she was burned to death.

On May 10, 1884, two girls, Teresa Flanigan and Lizzie Girr, 15 and 19 years old respectively, "escaped," as worded by The New York Times.  They made their way to Harlem to find Teresa's aunt, but were unsuccessful.  They gave up and decided to return to the orphanage.  On the way, they coincidentally encountered Thomas Flanigan.  The 40-year-old had previously worked at the orphanage as an engineer (i.e., the worker who tends the furnace and similar tasks.)  The New York Times reported, "He dissuaded them, saying that they would be beaten, and offered to get them situations."

His intentions for the naïve girls, however, were despicable.  He took the teens to the Mount Morris Hotel at 113rd Street and Third Avenue, registering as "Callahan and daughters."  There he sexually assaulted Teresa.  Astoundingly, two days later two relentless police officers tracked down the girls.  Flanigan was arrested and brought to the Essex Market Police Court on June 18.  There, Lizzie testified, "that Flanigan had assaulted her too, but failed," according to The New York Times.  The predator was jailed without bail and the two girls were sent to the House of Refuge.

In 1886, the orphanage was renovated to the St. Patrick's Convent and Girls' School.  Two years later, on August 31, 1888, the New-York Tribune reminded readers, "The property at Prince and Mott sts., known formerly as the Orphan Asylum, is now used by the children of the female department of St. Patrick's parochial school."

The unflappable Sisters of Charity, accustomed to handling orphans and school children, were not shaken by a mere explosion early on the morning of September 7, 1896.  The New York Times reported, "There were fourteen nuns in the building at the time, but they were in no way frightened by the incident and remained in the house."

The explosion happened in the kitchen when a pipe burst, "tearing a hole in the ceiling and half flooding the apartment with water," and igniting a fire, said the article.  A policeman on the street heard the blast and rushed in, then sent an alarm to the fire department.  Before the fire fighters arrived, the fire "was put out with pails of water."  The Times said, "The sisters in the house were all aroused from their sleep, but only the Superior left her room."

By the early decades of the 20th century, the school admitted boys, as well.  Among the students at mid-century was future filmmaker Martin Scorsese.  As the demographics of the neighborhood changed, the student body included students whose language at home included English, Spanish and Chinese.  Reportedly, as the turn of the century approached, more than 90 percent of the students came from families below the national poverty level.

By 1966, the building had been painted white.  Higgins Quasebarth and Partners LLC via The New York Times.

In 2009, the enrollment of what was now known as Saint Patrick's Old Cathedral School had dropped to just 129 students.  In June the following year, the Archdiocese closed the venerable facility.  

The Archdiocese of New York placed the landmarked structure on the market on December 24, 2013 for $29 million.  On September 4, 2014, Diane Pham, writing in 6sqft, reported that Time Equities had purchased the property for $32 million. "Plans to turn the school into condos have been in the works since October 2013," she wrote.  A second developer, said the article, had joined Time Equities to renovate the building "into two single-family homes and eight luxury condos."

Surviving Federal and later Victorian period interior details were ripped out in the gut renovation.  (Although the building was designated an individual New York City landmark in 1966, its interiors were not similarly protected.)  A four- and six-story addition was erected in the rear.  In the building that once housed indigent orphans are now luxury residences with four or five bedrooms, one of which has 23-foot ceilings in some rooms.

photographs by the author

The Rosanna Dunn House - 21 Prince Street

 

In 1837, the Board of Aldermen proposed extending and widening Centre Street from Broome to Houston Streets.  Residents and businessmen revolted, firing off several petitions to the Mayor opposing the project.  One of them decried the "destroying, mutilating, and injuring every street, lot and building in its course."  Among the signors of that petition was "Rose Dunn, No. 21 Prince street, owner."

Born in 1795, Rosanna Dunn owned several properties in the neighborhood.  Twice widowed, she lived in the 21-foot wide, Federal style house at 21 Prince Street with her sons, Anthony and James Conron.  (The boys were from her marriage to Lack Conron.)  Three-and-a-half stories tall, the house was faced in Flemish bond brick.  In the rear yard was a second, smaller house, which earned the family extra income.

Rosanna died "of inflammation of the lungs," according to the New York Herald, on January 26, 1851 at the age of 56.  Her funeral was held in the house two days later.

James and Anthony Conron, who operated a liquor store (or saloon) by 1853, remained in the house for years, taking in boarders.  In 1853, for instance, Henry Barrett, a porter; and Patrick Rourke, an engineer in the New-York Tribune building, lived in the main house.  (As an engineer, Rourke would have been responsible for tending the Tribune building's furnaces and such.)  Thomas Stanton lived in the rear house.

Anthony Conron was a member of the volunteer military organization, the Gallagher Guard.  An announcement in the New York Herald in 1859 noted, "A meeting of the above named company will be held at the house of Anthony Conron, No. 21 Prince street, on Sunday, Sept. 11, at 3 o'clock P. M.  Members will please be punctual in attendance."   

Following what the New York Herald described as "a protracted illness," Anthony Conron died on May 27, 1864.  His brother is no longer listed at 21 Prince Street afterward.

The Conron house became a boarding house--one that must have been tightly packed.  In 1867, there were seven boarders.  Interestingly, several were involved in the apparel trades.  Dominick Gaffey and Patrick Glennen were tailors; Eliza Reynolds listed her profession as "cloaks;" and James Pender was a shoemaker.  Two other boarders, William Delaney and Daniel Dunn, were laborers.  Bridget Hackett, the widow of Patrick Hackett, lived here and most likely ran the house.  The rear building was home to Edward Daly.

By the time Patrick Daly purchased the property for $11,700 (about $391,000 in 2024) in December 1886, the ground floor had been converted to a store.  The Record & Guide described the lot as having a "three-story and store building on the front and three-story building on the rear."

Four months later, Daly hired architect William Grant to design alterations to the front building.  His plans called for raising the attic to a full floor, rearranging the interior walls, and rebuilding "defective parts in rear wall."  Grant's renovations gave the ground floor a cast iron storefront with two stores.  Elaborate, triangular, pressed metal pediments  filled with frothy Beaux Arts decorations were placed over the upper floor openings.  The windows were, as well, given decorative terra cotta frames, and delicate Greek key bands in terra cotta joined the lintels of the openings at each level.  An ambitious cast metal Italianate cornice completed the design.  (The new fourth floor can be discerned by the change from Flemish to running bond brickwork.)

image from the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Patrick Daly's tenants continued to be foreign-born workers.  One, living above the stores in 1887, placed an advertisement in The Sun that November that read, "A respectable woman wishes a situation as cook, washer, and ironer; wages not so much an object as a good home."

Edward Kraus and his wife lived here in 1891.  Kraus ran a butcher shop on Mulberry Street between Spring and Prince Streets.  On June 17, he left to collect a bill on the Bowery.  The Sun reported, "That was the last seen of him alive."

Two weeks later, on June 30, a body washed ashore on Coney Island.  When no one came to identify it, the corpse was buried in a numbered grave in Flatbush, Brooklyn two days later.  That night, Brooklynite friends of Mrs. Kraus wrote to her, saying the description of the man matched that of her husband.  She went to Brooklyn and had the body exhumed.  The Sun said, "It was too much decomposed to identify it positively, but from certain marks on the legs, she felt confident the body was her husband's."

Mrs. Kraus told her reporters that Edward had "complained of the heat just before he started out."  She surmised, "it affected his mind and that he may have jumped overboard in a moment of aberration."  The Sun added, "Kraus had no reasons for committing suicide so far as known.  He owned a flourishing business, and was happy in his domestic relations."  Apparently, the possibility of foul play was not considered.

Another tragedy occurred the following year.  On May 16, 1892, the News Press reported, "John Connolley, of 21 Prince street, an alcoholic patient of St. Francis hospital in Fifth street, jumped from the second story window of the hospital and was mortally hurt."

Hugh Madden lived here in 1894.  Described by The Evening World as "a poor cobbler, twenty-eight years old," Madden attempted to do a good deed on September 13 that year.  But it backfired.  

A friend had been incarcerated in the Raymond Street jail in Brooklyn for several days.  Madden attempted to sneak a flask of whiskey to him, but it went horribly wrong.  The Evening World reported, "At the door Madden was met by Keeper John Bell...and searched.  Keeper Bell found the neck of the flask protruding from his visitor's stocking."  Now, Hugh Madden, too, was jailed.  He was taken before Warden Shanley "who, in a deep voice, Madden says, asked him if he knew what a grievous offense he had committed."

Late in January 1896, Edward Maher was released from jail after serving a two-week sentence for domestic abuse on his wife.  Days later, on February 7, The New York Times reported that he was being held without bail "for assaulting his wife and causing internal injuries."

Patrick Daly sold the property in May 1904.  The buyer, Rocco Mansella, resold it to Pasquale and Salvatore Pati in April 1907.  The father-and-son team, who operated as P. Pati & Son, hired architect Otto Reissmann in October to replace the outhouse with a "one-story brick and stone" version.  The elaborate privy cost them the equivalent of $23,400 today.

The outhouse would not last long.  In 1908, the property was sold in foreclosure to Frank Verrastro.  He would run a store from the ground level into the 1920s.  In March 1910, he brought Otto Reissmann back to modernize the building.  Among the renovations was indoor plumbing and toilets.

Luigi Onofrio was pulled into a gruesome murder case in 1910.  After religious services on June 17, Moses Sachs went missing.  The body of the 60-year-old jewelry peddler was found the following morning "crammed into a trunk in the lower hallway of an Italian tenement at 51 Goerck Street," reported The New York Times on June 19.  He had been strangled and robbed of about $3,000 worth of jewelry and $200 in cash.

Before police arrived, someone spirited away a piece of evidence.  Two days later, The New York Sun reported that officials learned that a business card "was shaken out of a sort of table cloth which lay upon the jewelry pedler's [sic] body."  The card read:

Luigi Onforio

21 Prince street.  Candy manufacturer

The New York Sun said, "It was a brand new business card, freshly printed, unsoiled and a very poor specimen of typography."  Police suspected that the card was an attempt to frame Onofrio.  "The blundering printer transposed two letters," explained The Sun.  And, in addition to misspelling Onofrio's surname, while the address was correct (he lived on the top floor of 21 Prince Street), "so far as one knows he manufactured no candy nor indeed anything but wondrous tales."

According to Eric Ferrara in his 2011 Manhattan Mafia Guide, at mid-century the ground floor of 21 Prince Street was home to the Thompson Social Club, a hangout of underworld figures like gangster Peter Di Palermo.

The last quarter of the 20th century saw tremendous change in the neighborhood.  In the 1980s, Prince Street Editions occupied the commercial space, publishing art calendars.  The Laughing Cat antiques shop was here by the mid-1990s, and at the turn of the century the space became home to the Ina consignment shop, which remains there.

photographs by the author

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The Jeremiah and Mary Ann Youmans House - 205 Prince Street

 

John Peter Haff's official profession was "inspector of sole leather."  Additionally, however, he was a recognized authority on agricultural techniques and a speculative real state developer in New York and New Jersey.  In 1834, he completed construction of two Federal-style homes at 203 and 205 Prince Street.  The westernmost house sat on the northeast corner of Prince and MacDougal Streets, affording it additional light and ventilation on the side.  Two-and-a-half stories tall and faced in Flemish bond brick, its parlor floor was originally accessed by a brownstone stoop.  Three dormers punched through the peaked roof. 

It appears Haff leased the houses until his death in 1838.  Around 1850, Jeramiah H. and Mary Ann Youmans purchased 205 Prince Street.  They had at least one son, David S., born in 1837.  In 1851, a daughter, Eliza, was born.  Youmans owned a lumber business (called a "woodyard" in the 1853 city directory) on Washington Street near the Hudson riverfront.

On October 20, the Youmans advertised in the Morning Courier, "Board--One or two large parlors and one bedroom, to let furnished, with board, to a gentleman and wife, or two single gentlemen, in a small private family.  Apply at 205 Prince street, corner of McDougal st."  (MacDougal street was variously spelled MacDougal, Macdougal and McDougal for years.  The confusion was understandable.  It was named after Alexander McDougall, whose father spelled his surname MacDougal.)

In 1853, the couple's boarders were Jessie W. Wadleigh and Dr. Baron Spolasco.  They would have long-term boarders in Charles E. L. Brinckerhoff and his family starting in 1857.  Brinckerhoff and his wife Clara had a 10-year-old son, Charles Rolph.

Born in 1822, Charles E. L. Brinckerhoff dealt in lamps and gas lighting fixtures.  He had two stores downtown, one on John Street and the other on William Street.  His wife, however, was far more celebrated than he.

Born in London in 1828 as Clara Maria Rolph, she was brought to America by her parents in 1833.  Her father, John A. Rolph, was an artist and her mother was a Italian-trained soprano.  Clara was trained in singing by her mother.  Following her mother's death, Clara was trained by leading coaches, including George Loder, conductor of the Philharmonic Society and his wife.

Clara made her concert debut at the age of 16 at Apollo Hall on Broadway.  The principal soprano of Grace Church, she sang the full Christmas service on December 25, 1848, before marrying Charles later that day.  

The famed soprano's image appeared on this sheet music in 1873.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

Clara contributed greatly to the family's income.  The Youmans allowed her to conduct her voice lessons in the house.  An advertisement in The New York Times in September 1857 read,

Mrs. Clara M. Brinkerhoff informs her pupils and the public, that her season for tuition in Vocal Music will commence on Monday, Sept. 28.  Terms: $40 for a term of twenty-four lessons; single lessons, $2.  Address No. 205 Prince-st., corner of McDougal.  At home on Wednesdays.

The tuition for a 24-lesson term would equal about $1,440 in 2024.

Additionally, Clara was a composer, romance novelist (under the pseudonym Henri Gordon) and lecturer.  Among her best known songs was One Flag or No Flag, published during the Civil War.

The parlor of 205 Prince Street was the scene of four-year-old Eliza Youmans's funeral on May 15, 1855.  The little girl had died the previous day.

The Brinkerhoffs remained in the Youmans house at least through 1862.  On October 25, 1861, Clara advertised,

Madame Clara M. Brinkerhoff, having returned from Europe, will be ready for concert engagements and pupils in singing from the 1st of November.  Address 205 Prince-st., corner of Macdougal.

Jeremiah H. Youmans died at the age of 61, "after a short illness, in full hopes of a blessed immortality," as worded by the New-York Tribune, on May 13, 1862.  His funeral was held in the house on May 16.  Mary Ann was still in mourning when David S. Youmans died on February 9, 1863 at the age of 26.  His funeral, too, was held in the parlor.

Mary Ann operated her home as a boardinghouse for the next six years.  Having buried her entire family, she died here at the age of 57 on August 16, 1869.

Six months later, on February 15, 1870, the "two-story brick house" and lot was sold at auction for $20,250 to Samuel Parsons.  (The amount would translate to about $488,000 today.)  One month to the day later, an auction of the Youman family's furnishings was held.  Among the elegant pieces sold was a "rosewood piano, by Steinway & Sons."

Samuel Parsons continued operating 205 Prince Street as a boarding house.  Among his boarders in 1871 was Ronald MacDonald, an editor.

Parsons made significant changes to the house in 1875.  He removed the stoop, filled in the basement level, and installed a neo-Grec cast iron storefront on what was now the first floor.  It was possibly at this time that the attic was raised to a full floor, taking the shape of a stylish mansard.  Parsons's first commercial tenant was O'Leary Bros., a furniture store.

Around 1886, August Berrmann purchased the property.  The personality of the commercial space underwent a drastic change that year when brewers Bernheimer & Swartz signed the lease.  It was common for breweries to operate their own saloons, thereby assuring that only their own products would be sold.  

At the turn of the century, the saloon was run by Peter Mutthiessen.  He was fined the staggering amount of $1,630 on February 27, 1903 by State Excise Commissioner Cullinan.  The Albany newspaper The Argus explained, "Matthiessen trafficked in liquor at 205 Prince street, New York city, and violated the liquor tax law by having his barroom open [on Sunday]."  

The storefront was boarded up and obviously under renovation when this photo was taken in 1941.  On the side of the building an R & H Beer (Rubsam & Horrmann brewery) sign can be seen.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The estate of August Herrmann sold the property in March 1906 to Albert J. F. Sibberns and his wife, Clara L.  Calling his saloon a "café," it became what today would be called a sports bar and a training venue for boxers and wrestlers.  

In 1909, the Bridgeport, Connecticut newspaper The Farmer reported that Young Evans was in town.  "He has put away some clever boxers, including Tommy Devlin of Philadelphia, Joe Percenti of Chicago, Bob Smillie of Salem, and Johnnie Dohan of Brooklyn," said the article.  "He is willing to take on any promising youngster in this State at 136 pounds.  Communicate with his manager, Al Sibberns, 205 Prince street, New York."

The bar was also the headquarters of the Bugs Association baseball team.  Al Sibberns played centerfield for the group.

Sibberns was not the only trainer who worked from the saloon.  In 1915, according to the Brooklyn Standard Union, boxer Johnny Hayes's manager was Chick Kenney, and Dummy Dragon's was Louis Masso.

Albert J. F. Sibberns declared bankruptcy in November 1916.  The Sun reported that he had liabilities of $7,610 and assets of $300.

A saloon would remain here until Prohibition.  The space continued to house a restaurant or tavern throughout most of the 20th century.  

The building was returned to a single family home in the 1970s, its owners replacing the storefront infill with handsome arched windows reminiscent of a Dickensian London bookshop.  The renovation earned the owners a 1979 Certificate of Appreciation by the Association of Village Homeowners for "enhancing the surroundings with renewal of facades in a way appropriate to the historic character of the district."

photographs by the author

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A Lost Relic - 47 Prince St

Despite advertisements slathered across its face, the building's former refinement was still evident in the 1920's.  Note the tenant in in the second floor window chatting with a woman on the street.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

By the time Mr. Benson moved his family to No. 47 Prince Street, on the northwest corner of Mulberry Street, the house had several tenants.  Built in the late 1820's or early '30's, the Federal-style building may have always had a shop in the ground floor.  While technically two-and-a-half stories tall, the exceptional height of the attic within the gambrel roof made that level nearly a full floor.  Tall dormers on the Prince Street elevation and an arched opening flanked by quarter-round openings on the Mulberry filled the attic floor with daylight.

Mr. Benson had been struggling with a difficult problem in the fall of 1843--three of his children had intestinal worms.  He found the cure, according to an advertisement in The New York Herald on December 19, at Apothecaries' Hall, No. 60 Prince Street just one block away.  The ad claimed "No Room For Doubt--Mr. Benson, 47 Prince street, cured three children with one 18 [cent] box of Kent's Worm Lozenges, after many other medicines had been tried without effect."

The house had originally been built for a merchant class family--possibly the owner of the ground floor shop.  It was 25-feet wide on Prince Street and an ample 80 feet deep on Mulberry.

But by now the neighborhood had noticeably changed.  The tenants were working class, as evidenced by an ad placed by two of them in November 1845. "Wanted--Situations by two Young Women--one as good plain cook, washer and ironer; the other as chambermaid, or nurse and seamstress...Apply at 47 Prince st, first floor, back room."

Over the next decades tenants--many of them women--would continue to struggle to find employment.  In December 1840 one sought a job as "Chambermaid and Seamstress, by a Protestant young Woman, or Chambermaid and to do the fine Washing and Ironing."  Another in March 1852 wrote "A Very Respectable Young Woman Wishes a situation to do chamberwork, and assist in the washing and ironing; she is a good plain sewer, and wishes to make herself useful; will take turns in the kitchen, if required."  And another, in the fall of 1862 marketed herself as "a first rate laundress" and sought "a situation in a hotel or boarding house."

Many of those out-of-work women were struggling Irish immigrants, typical of the changing face of the Prince Street neighborhood.  They eked out their hardscrabble existence in an increasingly rough environment.  That was evidenced on July 16, 1874 when The New York Times reported "Ann McGrath, aged forty-one, of No. 47 Prince street, quarreled yesterday evening with Peter Hughes...when Hughes struck her on the head with a glass causing three severe scalp wounds."  Ann was taken to Bellevue Hospital and her assailant was jailed.

Wealthy New Yorkers escaped the suffocating summer heat at their country homes, or at resorts like Newport.  Impoverished immigrants, on the other hand, suffered the heat at their work and in their rooms.  Each day during the hottest weather newspapers published lists of those who were "prostrated" or had succumbed.  On July 13, 1882 The New York Times added to its list: "William McNeil, a Scotchman, 35 years old, died suddenly at his residence, No. 47 Prince-street, from sun-stroke."

The former store space had been home to Michael Barry's saloon for several years.  Four months before McNeil's passing, Barry had relinquished the lease of the bar to one of McNeil's countrymen, George D. Noremac.

George's real surname was Cameron and he was a celebrity in the rabidly popular walking races; known in Scotland as "King of the Peds."  Early on, in order to stand out among other contestants, he changed his name by simply spelling it backwards.

On March 25, 1882 the New York Clipper noted that Noremac, "the noted young Scotch long-distance pedestrian" had taken the saloon "formerly kept by Michael Barry."  The newspaper felt his name would be beneficial to his new endeavor, saying "his exploits on the pedestrian path should operated to his advantage in business."

Once settled into the new business, Noremac brought his wife, the former Elizabeth Edwards, and their son and daughter from Scotland (they retained the name Cameron).  The family lived above the saloon, renting rooms to immigrant laborer John Ryan, a house painter, and to Noremac's trainer (who doubled as a bartender) George Beattie.

Noremac sponsored his own walking race later that year.  An announcement in the New York Clipper on December 9 read:

George D. Noremac,

47 Prince Street,

will give $125 in prizes for a GRAND 12-HOUR HANDICAP-RACE, limit 8 miles, go-as-you-please, at Wood's Athletic Grounds, Williamsburg, L.I., on Christmas day.  Entrance $3, to close Dec. 18, at the above address.

George poses in his walking gear.  original source unknown

Noremac took in a house guest in 1883, William Cummings another well-known walking racer.  The New York Clipper reported "This famous Scotch pedestrian...is due at this port to-day, June 6, on board the steamer Wyoming."  He had come to New York to participate in several races.  The newspaper noted "On landing in New York Cummings will take up his quarters with George D. Noremac of six-days, go-as-you-please notoriety, at his saloon, 47 Prince street, and there will have his abode a fortnight to get himself thoroughly in condition to fulfill his engagements."

("Six-day, go-as-you-please" races lasted 144 hours and participants could enter and exit the track at will, picking up where they left off after stopping to eat, sleep or rest.  Judges counted their laps and calculated the miles covered at the end of six days.)

Ten days later the same newspaper updated its readers on Cummings's training for his upcoming match against pedestrian William Steele of Pennsylvania.  Calling Cummings the "celebrated Scotch flyer," the "champion of England," and at "the pinnacle of fame," the article noted that he "has been accompanied in his practice-runs by his backer, Noremac, whose public-house at 47 Prince street he makes his headquarters."

On August 18, 1883 Noremac opened a second saloon, at No. 466 Eighth Avenue.  The family moved into the second floor of that location.  It would become a scene of horror.

George Beattie and Elizabeth did not get along well.  He was often drunk and and used abusive language to the other saloon workers.  And she told her husband Beattie was "a nuisance."

Less than a week after moving in, on Thursday August 23, Beattie entered the apartment knowing Noremac was in the saloon awaiting his breakfast.  The children heard a pistol shot, then another.  Elizabeth Cameron lay on the kitchen floor dead, next to the body of her murderer.

Exactly a year later, in August 1884, Noremac gave up the Prince Street saloon.  It was leased to the Williamsburgh Brewing Co.  Breweries commonly operated saloons in the 19th century; an arrangement which made it possible for them to sell only their own ale and beer.

Murto Moriarty and his wife lived in a single room in the house in 1890.  Early in the morning of July 28 he was awakened by noises in the darkness.  The Evening World reported "He jumped out of bed and collared Edward Reardon, seventeen years old...his brother-in-law, and Daniel Flannery, twenty-one years old."  They had stolen $2 from Moriarty's clothes before being caught.  Moriarty did not let family ties (nor his wife) influence his actions.  He had the teen and his accomplice hauled off to the Tombs Police Court.

James Curtin seems to have been working in the saloon in August 1894 when he sought a new position.  His ad read "Steady, sober waiter wants a job in a downtown lunch-room or restaurant."  Most likely the reason for his career move was his advance notice that the saloon was closing down.

Within months the ground floor space was home to Samuel Cohen's cigar shop.  He employed five men, two teen-aged boys, and two females (one in her teens) to make his cigars.  Cohen would remain until 1901 when Francesco Marchioni leased the space, converting it to a restaurant.  Marchioni's operation lasted seven years.  In 1904 he was paying $500 annual rent on the space, or nearly $1,200 per month today.

In March 1908 Gaetano Mangano took over the lease of the store, paying exactly twice the rent.  It was most likely he who converted the restaurant to a corner store where neighbors could purchase staples like cigarettes and flour.

Murad Cigarettes paid for visible signage above the Prince Street shop windows by the 1920's.  Life magazine, January 1905 (copyright expired)

In 1924 the end of the line for the old structure was on the horizon.  The corner store was boarded up and photographs show the upper floors apparently vacant.

The gritty personality of the Soho neighborhood is evidenced in this 1924 photo.  The corner store is boarded up.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

Ten years later Berenice Abbott photographed the still-vacant building.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The venerable building lasted just over a century.  Its replacement building was demolished prior to the mid-1960s, and the subsequent structure by Kevin Byrne Architects, P.C., was completed in 2017.