The Corn Exchange Bank Building - 204 West 4th Street

Founded in 1853, Corn Exchange Bank had gobbled up other banking institutions like the Astor Place Bank, the Home Bank and the Washington Trust Company by 1919 when it looked to Greenwich Village as the site of a new branch.   On March 19 that year The Sun reported that the bank had purchased "the property at 76 Grove street, and 7, 8, and 9 Sheridan Square" as the site of its 42nd branch.  The plot, it said, "faces the new subway station of the Seventh avenue subway, and the modern and attractive Greenwich Village Theatre."

The bank building would replace the three brick buildings to the right, behind the street car in this photo.  photo by Jessie Tarbox Beals, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

By the time of the newspaper's article The Corn Exchange bank had hired architect S. Edson Gage to design the structure.  He worked with an oddly-shaped plot, more than 91-feet long on Sheridan Square (later West 4th Street) and just 15-feet on Grove Street.

Gage's post-war take on neo-Georgian  gave a nod to the city's early architectural history.  Faced in variegated red and gray brick laid in Flemish bond, it was trimmed in marble.   The entrances were capped by bold arched pediments and the massive arched openings of the second floor wore scrolled keystones.  A marble frieze and cornice separated the third story, where especially handsome carved and paneled window lintels graced the windows.  Gage joined the pitched roofs of both sides, creating the illusion of a hip roof.

Originally the narrow Grove Street side was just wide enough to accommodate the side entrance.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Until the second half of the 20th century firms would pay their employees in cash.  Workers received a pay envelope each week.  It was a practice that allowed employers to coldly let a worker know he had been fired by inserting a pink slip into his pay.   It also required at least one officer worker to make a bank run every week to withdrawal the large amounts of cash--making him a target for thieves.

Such was the case just before noon on August 11, 1928 when the cashier of the Arthur R. Purdy Iron and Metal Work Company on Greenwich Street walked out of the Sheridan Square branch with the company's payroll.  The routine of A. E. Gleason had most likely been watched for weeks, and as he entered the hallway of the firm's building, he was attacked by two men, one armed with a pistol.  Although it was not an enormous payroll, the bandits nevertheless made off with the equivalent of $8,800 today.

In 1929 S. Edson Gage was called back to enlarge the bank by slightly doubling its width on Grove Street.  His nearly seamless addition was separated from the original building at the roof level by a tall chimney and wall.  Their purpose was most likely to disguise the additional full fourth floor of the new structure, slightly higher than the original.  Behind its two copper clad dormers were two "non-housekeeping apartments."  The term meant that they had no kitchens.

The nation was captivated by the sensational kidnapping of the 20-month-old son of aviator Charles Lindbergh in March 1933.  Before the ransom was paid, the F.B.I. recorded the serial numbers of the bills.  One of them would turn up in the Corn Exchange Bank's Sheridan Square branch and provide critical evidence.

Cecelia M. Barr was a cashier in the Loew's Sheridan movie theatre on Seventh Avenue at West 12th Street.  At 9:30 on the night of Sunday, November 26, 1933 Richard Hauptmann stepped up to her window and threw a folded $5 bill at her.  The next morning the assistant manager of the theater took the night's receipts to the bank.  

Teller William Cody--along with employees of grocery stores, insurance agencies, gas stations, airports and such--had been given a pamphlet warning to watch for the ransom bills, along with a listing of the serial numbers.  The sharp-eyed teller discovered that the $5  bill Barr had received from Hauptmann was one of those marked by the FBI. 

The collection of circumstances led Cecelia Barr to distinctly remember the man among the 1,500 patrons that night, and to describe him to Federal authorities.  She later recounted “He took the bill out of his watch pocket and threw it at me.  That naturally made me look up—the way he did it.”  Other factors made her take notice of Hauptmann.  He was late for the screening—she was even counting her receipts, not expecting anymore patrons—and although it was a cold night, he wore no overcoat.  The third reason, other than the tossing of the bill, was the way it was folded.  “The bill was folded in eight parts as if it had been taken from a watch pocket.  I had to unfold it myself,” she later testified.

The evidence and Barr's testimony partly let to Haupmann's conviction and execution.  She received a $1,000 reward in January 1938.

The second floor housed doctors' offices in 1943.  The Grove Street side has three entrances--the main doorway, a service door to the basement, and what was probably an employees' entrance.  from the collection of the Library of Congress

In 1954 the Corn Exchange Bank & Trust Company merged with Chemical Bank, taking the latter's name.  Another name change would come about in 1995 when Chemical Bank merged with Chase Manhattan.

Long before that a teller was terrified by a bank robber on April 1, 1974.   The tall, thin man who wore a brown raincoat and ski mask told the teller he had a bomb.  He made off with $700 in cash; over $3,500 in today's money.

Crime was not restricted to the banking floor.  Upstairs were the offices of Ragwomen Distributors, founded to supply newsstands with feminist periodicals, like the  women's bi-weekly newspaper, the Majority Report.  In February 1975 criminals broke in, and stole typesetting equipment and financial records.  It was more than a case of burglary, however.  An employee, Nancy Borman, told reporters that "bright orange paint was sprayed on the walls."

The wall that separates the top floors of the original building and addition necessitated the lopping off of the ear of one of the marble lintels.

While the neighborhood around it has seen significant change since 1919, S. Edson Gage's dignified bank building has survived virtually untouched; a striking presence on the high-profile corner.

photographs by the author

The Gen'l Philip Henry Sheridan Statue - Christopher Park

On March 7, 1896 The New York Times reported "The Aldermanic Committee on Land, Places, and Public Parks decided yesterday that the strip of land bounded by Barrow, Christopher, Grove, and West Fourth Streets should hereafter be known as Sheridan Square, in honor of Gen. Sheridan."  The boundaries given were confusing at best--Christopher, Grove and Barrow Streets all run essentially parallel to one another going east and west; leaving only one north-south border, West Fourth Street.

And the area was not "a strip of land," but two distinct triangular spaces with nothing in common.  Eventually the southern and smaller section--essentially little more than a traffic island--took on the name Sheridan Square; while the larger bordered by Christopher, Grove and West Fourth Streets, became Christopher Park.

Confusion aside, the gesture to honor Sheridan was well deserved.  Born in Albany in 1831, he was invaluable in the Union's Civil War victory.   A brilliant military tactician, his defeat of the Confederate Army in the battle of Cedar Creek inspired Thomas Buchanan Read's poem "Sheridan's Ride."

In 1865 Sheridan defeated General George Pickett at Five Forks, Virginia, hastening the end of the war.  But rest was not to come.  Immediately following the war's end he was promoted to major general and sent to Mexico where the uprising against Emperor Maximilian I was taking place.  Afterward, in 1884, he was made commander-in-chief of the U.S. Army.  He died of a heart attack in 1888 at the age of 57.

Nearly four decades later, in 1924, John B. Trainer, the former secretary of the Armory Board of New York City, organized the General Sheridan Memorial Committee.  A public fund-raising effort eventually raised $6,000 for a bronze statue (more in the neighborhood of $86,000 today).  The hardships of the Great Depression were no doubt responsible for the slowed inflow of funds and it would be another 12 years before the work was completed.

The committee commissioned Sicilian-born sculptor Joseph Pollia to design the monument.  (Pollia had arrived in America at the age of two in 1896, making him essentially an American artist.)  The choice was most likely influenced by Pollia's moving Richmond Hill World War Memorial in Queens.  Titled My Buddy and dedicated in 1925 it depicted a grieving soldier standing before the grave of a fallen comrade.

On July 21, 1936 the statue was put in place, although the formal dedication would not happen for another three months.   The New York Times wrote "Joseph P. Pollia, the sculptor, took four months to complete the statue.  In full Union Army regalia, booted and spurred and with a sword dangling at its side, the figure faces the entrance to the park."   That park was not Sheridan Square, as might have seemed fitting, but Christopher Park; most likely chosen because it was not only larger, but more visible.

Pollia's seven-foot statue stood on a six-food granite pedestal.  It broke away from the tradition of military figures astride noble steeds and presented Sheridan not in battle, but in a more contemplative pose.  Bronze letters on the front of the pedestal simply gave the general's name and dates; and on one side a quotation, attributed to General Ulysses S. Grant reads:

He belongs to the first rank of soldiers; not only of our country but of the world. U. S. Grant

On the other side an inscription reads:

Erected by the General Sheridan Memorial Association and his comrades of the G. A. R. 1936

Within the granite base was a box containing the names of all those who had donated to the memorial.

The dedication ceremonies had been delayed until October 19 for good reason.  That date was the anniversary of the battle of Cedar Creek.  The statue was unveiled by veterans of the Grand Army of the Republic.  Speakers that afternoon included Colonel Ulysses S. Grant III, the grandson of the former President; General Louis W. Stotesbury, former Adjutant General of New York State; and Colonel Alfred E. Stacey, former commander in chief of the G. A. R.

The statue of General Philip H. Sheridan became a sort of centerpiece for the immediate Greenwich Village neighhood.  Throughout the decades it understandably led to Christopher Park's being commonly referred to as Sheridan Square.  (The actual Sheridan Square remained a rather unsightly and ignored traffic island for decades.)

The statue was conserved by the ungainly-named City Parks Foundation Monuments Conservation Program in 2000.  Much of the funding was provided by a campaign led by Robert W. Lord, who could count four Union soldier among his ancestors.  A second dedication ceremony was held on October 29, 2000, 64 years to the day after the original.  As had been done in 1936, a time capsule containing the names of the contributors was buried near the base.

The statue stands today within its own fenced enclosure within the park, surrounded by foliage.  One of nine statues of Civil War generals in City parks, its depiction is perhaps the most human.

photographs by the author

The Lost Clivette "Bazaar de Junk" - 1 Sheridan Square

photo by Jessie Tarbox Beals from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The old Federal-style double house at the convergence of Washington Place, West Fourth and Barrow Streets most likely always had two shops in the ground floor.  Faced in brick and trimmed in stone, its hipped roof was distinguished by a single dormer.

For years the shop on the West Fourth Street corner, 193 West Fourth Street, was home to Nathan Metzger's butcher shop.  In 1876 Louis Strauss was not only a resident of the building, but an employee in Metzger's shop.  That year he and his boss would face one another in court.

On March 5 a regular customer, Mrs. McCormick paid her bill of $40--a significant tab amounting to nearly $950 today.  When she came back ten days later to place another order, Metzger mentioned her outstanding bill.  Strauss, who had not told the butcher of the payment, found himself in a most uncomfortable position.

"Oh my!  I collected $40 from that lady last week and lost the money," he exclaimed, according to The New York Herald.  The newspaper continued, "Mr. Metzger, therefore, caused his arrest for embezzlement."  The following day they appeared before a judge.  "The prisoner said that he had lost the money, but was willing to make it good."  He was held on $1,000 bail awaiting trial.

Nathan Metzger's butcher shop remained at No. 193 West Fourth Street until 1886, when he closed his business.

Ten years later the Board of Aldermen renamed the little triangular space in front of the old building Sheridan Square, in honor of Civil War General Philip Sheridan.  No. 193 West Fourth Street received the new address of 1 and 2 Sheridan Square.

At the time, the colorful Merton Clivette and his wife, the former Catherine Parker Chamberlin, were living in San Francisco.  Born in Portage, Wisconsin in 1868 as Merton Clive Cook, he changed his name to the French-sounding Clivette.  Having worked in a traveling circus as an acrobat and magician's helper, he now ran a vaudeville troop in which he performed his magic act.

In June 1900, E. Dieschbourg leased both shops, 1 and 2 Sheridan Square, and combined them for what the Real Estate Record & Guide listed as a "saloon and restaurant."

Four months earlier, on February 4, the New-York Tribune had written, "The bright gowns, the bright lights, the melody and dancing of 'Broadway to Tokio' at the New-York Theatre have kept the house filled at every performance."  Among the acts listed were the famous Houdini, and "M. Clivette."

Merton Clivette was more than a vaudeville performer.  He had the uncanny ability to reinvent himself and self-promote with unabashed superlatives and questionable credentials.  On July 15, 1900, an advertisement appeared in the New-York Tribune:  "CLIVETTE--The world's greatest palmist; society's reader and teacher of palmistry.  Occultism taught."

By 1910 he had added hypnotism to his repertoire.  On March 15, the New-York Tribune reported, "the Four Mortons and Clivette the hypnotist are at the Plaza Music Hall."

Clivette seems to have had aspirations for a more respectable livelihood.  He had enrolled at the Art Students League around 1906, studying under masters John La Farge, William Merritt Chase and John Henry Twachtman.  By 1918 he had left the stage for good and prepared for life as a full-time painter, entrepreneur, and landlord.

Getting his name inexcusably bungled, The Sun reported on May 23, 1918 that "Clifford Olivette" had leased "the building at 1 and 2 Sheridan Square" for five years.  The family moved into an upstairs apartment while Clivette converted Dieschbourg's former restaurant to The Art Mecca, where his paintings were sold, and the Bazaar de Junk, a curiosity shop of antiques and bric-a-brac to which Clivette attached romantic if dubious histories.  He installed The Soul Light Shrine in the basement, admissible by at 25 cent fee.

New-York Tribune, April 13, 1919 (copyright expired)

Clivette's vaudeville background had taught him how to lure the public.  He referred to himself as "The Man in Black," and as an artist, a "great modern master."

Not everyone was fooled by Clivette's sometimes outlandish stories about the items he sold.  On October 5, 1919, The New York Times wrote, "Clivette, character extraordinary and Munchausen plenipotentiary, will sell you in his store--something straight out of Balzac--anything from the salt cellar that Robespierre used in his last meal to a preserved icicle brought by Peary from the north pole.  Pass the Bon Mot is the motto of this corner.  Here nothing is true but debts."

Clivette's embellished histories were lavished on the wrong visitors on January 28, 1919.  That night, just after midnight, a group of uptowners "slumming" in the Village stopped by 1 Sheridan Square.  Among them were newspaper cartoonist Oscar Cesare and his wife, and historian Bill Van Der Weyde.  They were shown the Art Mecca and the Soul Light Shrine (after having paid their 25 cents each).

The Sun reported that when Catherine pointed out "original" paintings by masters like Van Dyck, Bouguereau, Turner and Constable, Cesare asked if they might have a Michelangelo "lying around loose."  Such a shame, she answered, they had "several" but they had just been put into storage a few days earlier.

In the Soul Light Shrine, Catherine pointed to the coal chute vault lights.  "Those were slave holes.  In the olden days the slaves were dropped down through those holes and kept in bondage in this very cellar.  See those chairs fastened to ancient staples in the walls?  Those chains prove the historic fact that this house was once a slave market."  (At this point the reporter editorialized that the same ancient chains "to-day curiously are on sale at Hammacher, Bailey, Banks, Biddle & Schllemmle's hardware store in Fourth avenue.")

Having apparently learned the routine well from her husband, Catherine related that in that very cellar "General Washington and his Generals used to meet and plan their greatest campaigns."

Clivette joined in when the tour returned to the main floor.  "Nathaniel Hawthorne and Edgar Allen Poe were but two of the many literary lights who used to frequent the bar that once occupied the room in which we are now standing.  Thomas Paine, author of The Age of Reason, lived in the attic up stairs and O. Henry wrote most of his stories here also."

The educated men had now had enough.  Van Der Weyde happened to be president of the Thomas Paine National Historical Association and gave Clivette his own history lesson.  He told him, "Would it interest you to know...that this house wasn't built until after Paine died?"  And Mrs. Cesare chimed in saying that she had lived in the same house with O. Henry "from the day I was born until he died.  He never lived in Greenwich Village."

Merton Clivette stands among his bric-a-brac in The Art Mecca. photo by Jessie Tarbox Beals from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York 

A near brawl broke out as the Clivette family--daughter Alita was there as well--and their visitors traded loud facts back and forth.  When Patrolman Francis Aloysius McGovern arrived he was met by "the cries of all the Clivettes, who were yelling so tremendously that even Greenwich Village began to button on clothes and run to the scene."  The Sun concluded that "nothing came of anything, except perhaps this latest and minute historic record of a thunderingly historic house."

Merton's and Catherine's inventiveness extended to daughter Juanita, who according to them, "calmly announced"  in 1913 at the age of five, that she was their daughter in body only.  Her consciousness, she said, "was that of Sappho, the ill-fated Grecian poetess of 2,500 years ago."

A full-page syndicated story reached newspapers nationwide in September 1920.  "Since that time the child has persisted in her attitude, has given what she claims to be details of her previous life, and has written a number of truly extraordinary poems," it said.   The article continued "A month ago Juanita announced that she is destined to live on this earth only twelve years longer!

Just a child, the baleful looking Juanita was marketed by her parents as the reincarnated Sappho.  photo from the collection of the Library of Congress

"'By the time I am twenty-four,' she said, 'I will be united to Phaon.  But not here.  It will be in another world, where he will give me all the love he denied me centuries ago.  After that I will never come back to this earth."

Clivette and Catherine with daughter Juanita in 1921.  photo via californiaviewfinearts.com

In 1922, The Quill, the local Greenwich Village newspaper, noted that at the "Art Mecca or Bazar De Junk" the visitor "may see the priceless Clivette and his inspired daughter Juanita Sappho."

Regular visitors at what they called "Clivette's 'Lost Paradise'" were English-born brothers Hugh and Malcolm Hardyman.  In July 1921 Hugh told reporters that in the brief time he had been in Greenwich Village he "had formed many delightful associations...notably that with M. Clivette, yclept 'The Man in Black,' author of The Confession of a Palmist, The Suffragette and The Royal Painter, and sire of Juanita Clivette, otherwise 'Sappho.'"  Hardyman said of her "not to know [her] is to be unknown."

The reason the Hardyman brothers appeared in the newspapers was because of a bet Hugh had made with Merton Clivette.  Sitting around the shop one day he bragged about the "superiority of his powers over the fair sex," and insisted he "can kiss 'em all--sooner or later."  Clivette dared him to prove it and offered him 1,000 English pounds ($5,000 in American currency) if he could kiss 1,000 girls between New York and California.

On July 29, 1921, Hugh set off on his kissing safari.  With him were his brother and an Irish friend to guarantee the tally.  The terms of the bet allowed them to use any transportation necessary.  The New-York Tribune reported, "The kissing is to begin outside New York's city limits.  The first victim will be a Yonkers girl."  Whether it was Handyman or Clivette who lost the bet is unclear.

photo by Jessie Tarbox Beals, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

It may have been her family's cavalier disregard for historical accuracy that prompted daughter Catherine to found the Greenwich Village Historical Society in the family apartment in 1922.  The society's meetings were held in there once a week.  Single themes were sometimes the topics of the meetings.  The September 1922 meeting was deemed "Indian Night," and another was "Alexander Hamilton Night."  Not surprisingly, Catherine's father never appeared as a guest speaker.

Catherine's leadership led to bronze plaques being affixed to historic sites in the Village, including 59 Grove Street, the site of the former home of Thomas Paine.  On February 18, 1923 The New York Times noted, "The house is just west of Seventh Avenue and not far from the old building at 1 Sheridan Square, where the society meets each week for talk on bygone village days and the value of true Americanism."  Later that year, a plaque was unveiled at the site of Aaron Burr's Richmond Hill house.

In the meantime, Clivette's bombastic self-marketing and carnival-like shops overshadowed his true talent.  His paintings were exhibited in solo and group shows beginning in 1923.  In the 1930's his works would be seen in exhibitions at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the Los Angeles Museum (twice), and the Anderson Galleries of New York.

Merton Clivette's Teapot with Lemon, Pepper & Plum, via californiafinearts com

Merton Clivette's lease on 1 Sheridan Square expired in 1923.  The following year the Department of Buildings issued a demolition permit for the property, ending one of the most colorful chapters in Greenwich Village history.