The 1950 Rockefeller Guest House - 242 East 52nd Street

photograph by Epicgenius

An advertisement in the New York Herald on February 18, 1866 offered the "modern high stoop house" at 242 East 52nd Street for sale.  A mirror-image, two-bay wide Italianate dwelling sat next door.  At the time, the once-rural Turtle Bay district was quickly being industrialized as factories, breweries and the like cropped up along the riverfront.  By the Depression years, 242 East 52nd Street had lost its stoop and converted to furnished rooms.  As early as 1940, it was abandoned.

242 and 244 East 52nd Street were an eyesore in 1940.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

John D. Rockefeller III married Blanchette Ferry Hooker in 1932.  They moved into 1 Beekman Place, part of a much-changed area of Turtle Bay, in the 1940s.  The couple were avid art collectors, but "modernist" art, according to Rockefeller, was his "wife's department."

In 1948, Blanchette proposed they erect "a town house designed largely to accommodate visiting members of the family," according to The New York Times.  More importantly, she wanted a venue to display her avant-garde artworks and to entertain.  The couple were well acquainted with Philip C. Johnson.  In 1930 he became director of the architecture department of the Museum of Modern Art, founded by John's mother, Abby Aldrich Rockefeller, in 1929.

The Rockefellers acquired 242-244 East 52nd Street and commissioned Johnson to design their guest house.  The vintage houses were gutted, leaving only two stories of brick side walls.  In his 1952 New York Architecture 1650-1952, Huson Jackson notes, "Although technically a remodelling [sic] job, virtually nothing of the original buildings remains except the party walls.  (By preserving them, the project was deemed "remodeling" and, therefore, circumvented the rigors of "new construction.")

On September 2, 1949, The New York Times reported, "An outstanding example of modern architecture and equipment in a town house designed largely to accommodate visiting members of the family is nearing completion in the Beekman Place section of Manhattan for John D. Rockefeller 3d and his wife."  The article stressed, "The owners, however, will continue to live in their apartment just around the corner."  (A Rockefeller spokesman said, "they preferred to call the new dwelling an adjunct to their apartment, rather than a family guest house.)

Johnson faced the symmetrical, nearly windowless base in Flemish bond, ruddy red brick.  The upper portion was mostly glass--six panels divided by steel bars.  Privacy would be accomplished by draperies.  The New York Times explained that the house was "divided into two sections."  The rear wall of the living room, said the article:

...will be of glass and will look out on a patio with a tree and small pool designed to give an 'outdoor' effect. Reached by stepping stones across this courtyard will be the separate one-story master suite of bedroom, bath and dressing room.  The bedroom also will have a plate-glass wall looking out on the courtyard, and with heavy draperies for privacy.

Above the living room were two smaller bedrooms and two baths.  The New York Times remarked, "It was reported that the furniture and furnishings would be made especially to fit in with the unusual character of the house."

Blanchette Rockefeller in the living room.  from the Library of Congress's Gottscho-Schleisner Collection

Construction was completed in 1950.  Referring to Philip Johnson's close relationship with Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, The New York Times architectural critic Paul Goldberger would later comment, "The exterior is Miesian, with glass, steel and brick creating an air of formality; within is a reflecting pool and an enormous space that is less Miesian than proto-SoHo loft."

from the Library of Congress's Gottscho-Schleisner Collection

(Interestingly, years later Philip C. Johnson said, "The top of the house doesn't exist for me.  I only added it because there is no point to doing a one-story house in New York.  It would look all wrong.")

The public had a chance to see the house in May 1951 when the City Garden Club of New York held its annual showing of gardens and penthouses.  The New York Times said, "Also open will be a New York guest house with modern pool at 242 East Fifty-second Street."  It was opened to the public again in 1954 when a benefit exhibition of young artists' works was held here.

The house was often used as additional space for the Museum of Modern Art.  In his 1973 Good Old Modern: An Intimate Portrait of the Museum of Modern Art, Russell Lynes writes:

It was presided over by a butler named Charles, who could and frequently did run up luncheons for a small number of trustees and donors to the Museum, for Important Persons and those being wooed.  There, too, were cocktail parties and small dinners and the ever present hazard of someone accidently backing into the shallow pool.

In 1955, Blanchette Rockefeller donated the building to the Museum.  It was used for events and functions until the MoMA's East Wing (also designed by Philip Johnson) was completed in 1964.

from the Library of Congress's Gottscho-Schleisner Collection

On February 7 that year, The New York Times reported, "The Museum of Modern Art has sold its Guest House."  The article noted, "The new owner is Mrs. Robert C. Leonhardt, the wife of a Manhattan business consultant, who also owns a Johnson house in Lloyd's Neck, L. I."  In reporting on the $100,000 sale (about $1 million in 2026), the article called the house, "one of Mr. Johnson's most striking designs."

Leonhardt and his wife, the former Lee Sherrod, had two children.  He told The New York Times, "the transaction was agreed upon in April, 1962."

Philip C. Johnson became the next occupant of 242 East 52nd Street when Lee Leonhardt leased it to him following the death of Robert Leonhardt.  Johnson shared the house with his partner, exhibition designer and former art dealer, David C. Whitney.  The couple introduced artworks by the likes of Andy Warhol, Frank Stella, John Chamberlain and Roy Lichtenstein.  They also repainted the interiors white.

London antiques dealer Robin Symes purchased the property in 1979.  He filled the house with an astounding collection of Art Deco furniture.  The New York Times described, "Robin Symes's collection of Art Deco lacquered or leather-wrapped furniture--the largest private holding of designs by the innovators Pierre Legrain and Eileen Gray--includes many classics of the Paris style."  Symes's partner, Christo Michailidis recalled first seeing the house to Rita Reif of The New York Times, saying, "We needed a house in New York like a hole in the head."  But, he said, they fell in love with it "as an art work."

A decade, on April 2, 1989, The New York Times reported that the entire Symes collection was slated to be sold at auction by Sotheby's.  Included in the artwork was the Rockefeller Guest House.  In reporting that it would be among the items sold (the first real estate offering ever by Sotheby's), Rite Reif noted, "Although not a landmark, it was one of Mr. Johnson's earliest architectural projects and is cited in many books on architecture."  The winning bid for the house was $11.16 million, or about $29 million today.

photograph by Epicgenius

Designated an individual New York City Landmark in 2000, the Rockefeller Guest house has undergone several owners.  It was most recently sold in December 2023 for $20 million.

Emery Roth's 1931 Southgate - 400 East 52nd Street

 

In 1920, a stalwart group of wealthy Manhattanites embarked on a risky and somewhat shocking real estate endeavor--transforming a block of decrepit brownstones along the East River into a fashionable enclave.  Originally called Sutton Square, its high-tone tenor spread outward, creating Sutton Place and Beekman Place, two of the most enviable residential districts in the city.

Real estate developer Bing & Bing would continue the transformation.  The firm frequently worked with renowned architect Emery Roth, producing numerous Manhattan apartment buildings.  In 1928, Bing & Bing hired him for what would be their most ambitious project--five apartment buildings that would be called Southgate.  One would face East 51st Street and the others, separated by a verdant garden, lined east 52nd Street.

The massive enterprise would take three years to construct.  On April 12, 1931, The New York Times noted that the completed project would have "a total of nearly 500 housekeeping apartments ranging from one to six rooms."  The article explained that all five buildings, "similar in design," would be "identified with the name Southgate."

Each of the buildings was slightly different.  400 East 52nd Street is as the far right.  image by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

No. 400 East 52nd Street opened in October 1931.  Faced in brown brick above a stone base, its entrance sat within a dramatic, three-story frame of Art Deco stylized fountains.  The relatively unadorned midsection rose to two sleek, tiled-faced balconies.  Above the 14th floor, Roth ignored the setbacks at the ends and center of the building with single-bay-wide sections that rose two more floors.  Another ocean liner-ready balcony clung to the 15th floor.  An advertisement offered, "Two to five rooms, some with river view," and boasted, "dropped living rooms, log burning fireplaces.  Dining galleries or alcoves, casement windows, tile bath with every chamber, full size kitchens."

Among the early, professional residents of 400 East 52nd Street were John Anderson, drama critic for The New York  Evening Journal and former assistant critic of the New York Evening Post; and Arthur Samuels, editor of Harper's Bazaar.  In 1932, the year he moved in, he became associate editor of Arts Weekly and an instructor of drama at New York University.

Perhaps an unexpected tenant was 26-year-old aspiring actress Elizabeth Bates Volck, who moved into a ninth-floor apartment on November 7, 1931.  Born in England, she was the granddaughter of Domício da Gama, the former Brazilian ambassador to the United States.  Her engagement to Prince Johannes of Liechtenstein was announced in 1926, but the marriage never came to pass.

Just before moving into 400 East 52nd Street, Elizabeth suffered another failed romance.  According to her best friend, Diana Durant, Elizabeth had been experiencing "emotional strain" since "the disruption of her love affair with Gerald D. Tiffany."  The day after moving in, Elizabeth telephoned Durant "and said she had been thinking of taking her life," according to the North Shore Daily Journal.

Several hours later, at about 15 minutes after midnight, Frank McLoughlin, who lived nearby, heard an explosion.  The New York Times reported, "Looking up, he beheld a flash of fire and smoke bursting through the shattered windows of the ninth-floor apartment."  Elizabeth's apartment had been devastated by the violent gas explosion.  The Times said it "shattered walls and furniture on three floors and aroused residents within several blocks."

Elizabeth Volck's body was found in the apartment.  She had left a note saying: "I leave all my furniture to Diana Durant to keep or sell according to what she sees fit."  She then opened the gas jets of the stove.  Presumably, she knew that the explosion set off by the pilot light would kill her in case her suicide attempt was unsuccessful.  (Diana Durant would not receive any of the apartment's furniture, all of which was wrecked by the blast.)

A similar tragedy occurred the following year.  Edward R. Seen was a successful architect.  Born in Basel, Switzerland, he had been associated with Delano & Aldrich for more than two decades.  He and his second wife were married in November 1932.

Less than a month later, on December 11, Seen left the office, saying he would have lunch at home.  He telephoned later saying he had been detained by business.  Instead, he drove to Patchogue, Long Island.  At 11:00 p.m., he registered at Roe's Hotel there.  The next morning a maid found his body "with a bullet hole in his right temple," as reported by The New York Times.

More uplifting press coverage was routinely found in the society columns.  On September 1, 1932, for instance, The New York Times reported, "Mrs. James E. Hollingsworth of 400 East Fifty-second Street left yesterday for a visit with Mrs. Herbert Hoover at the White House.  Mrs. Hollingsworth will go later to California, where she will be joined by her husband."

Other initial residents were Henry R. Duflon, John P. Hogan, and John Perry Mitchell, Jr. and his wife, the former Lucy G. Clark.  Born in 1890, Duflon was superintendent of agencies for the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company in Illinois and Indiana.  He had an office here and in Chicago.  John P. Hogan was vice chairman of the Construction Code Authority and general chairman of the Construction League of the United States, which sponsored the codes for the construction industry.

John Perry Mitchell, Jr. was born in Sterling, Massachusetts on March 30, 1899.  He received his B.A. degree at Dartmouth and his Masters from Harvard.  He remained at Harvard as a instructor of economics until 1924.  He and Lucy Clark were married in 1930.  On July 1, 1934, Mitchell became assistant director of education at the Rockefeller Foundation.  In September 1935, he and Lucy adopted an infant boy whom they named Jonathan.  Tragically, five months later, on February 24, 1936, John Mitchell, Jr. died at Roosevelt Hospital at the age of 36.

Living here that year were singer Paul Davin and his wife, Winifred.  Davin had appeared on Broadway in Sweethearts and Knights of Song.  Winifred was described by The New York Times as "a former countess."  

On May 8, 1936, Winifred hired a maid, 22-year-old Jennie Stanley.  Ten days later, Jennie disappeared along with $685 in cash (equal to about $15,500 in 2025), jewelry and a gold cigarette case.  

The savvy Winifred "suggested to the police that the servant probably would buy expensive clothes and display them among friends in Harlem," reported The Times.  And so, Winifred and two detectives staked out Seventh Avenue and 139th Street.  Sure enough, just after midnight, Jennie Stanley passed by "stylishly gowned."  The article said, "In her apartment, the police said, they recovered all the jewelry, except a gold cigarette case, and the money."

A charming garden separates the 51st and 52nd Street buildings.

Federal employee Ed Weltman occupied a ninth-floor apartment here as early as 1939.  On the afternoon of September 21 that year, his sister and her daughters, Jessie and Alice Wells, visited him.  The sisters, described by The Billboard in 1926 as "exceptionally pretty blondes," comprised the song-and-dance team of the Wells Sisters.  Starting out as teenagers in vaudeville theaters, the duo now sang on radio and had just returned from a road tour the previous week.

Jessie Wells said she did not feel well and asked her uncle if she could go into a bedroom to rest.  Later, her mother checked on her and found her missing.  "The bathroom window was flung up," reported The New York Times.  The 25-year-old had jumped to her death.

Two fascinating residents were Sara J. Woodward and her daughter, Mary Woodward Reinhardt.  Born in 1863 in Portadown, Ireland, Sara was the eleventh of the seventeen children of Alexander Johnson.  In 1880 she arrived in Chicago at the age of 17, eventually becoming a fashion expert for the department store Carson, Pirie, Scott & Co.  According to The New York Times later, she was the first to bring Paris creations to the Middle West and "staged what was said to have been Chicago's first fashion show."

Sara married Frank E. Woodward, the president of the Bank of Watertown, Wisconsin, in 1897.  The couple had two daughters, Alice and Mary.  Sara founded the Public Library of Watertown and during World War I was chairman of the city's American Red Cross unit.  She also organized a movement to establish two parks there.

In the meantime, Mary Woodward graduated from Milwaukee Downer Seminary, attended the University of Wisconsin and received her Bachelors degree from Radcliffe College in 1923.  After doing graduate work at Oxford University in England, she married Paul Reinhardt, owner of the Reinhardt Galleries in New York City in 1924.  Mary became associated with the gallery.  

Frank Woodward died in 1933 and the following year Mary and Paul Reinhardt divorced.  Sara Woodward relocated to New York and she and Mary moved into an apartment here.  

It may have been the urban Manhattan environment that prompted Sarah to become an early activist against second-hand smoke, campaigning for the reduction or elimination of "the smoke nuisance."  Related to that cause, she joined the board of directors of the Outdoor Cleanliness Association.

Now single, Mary Woodard Reinhardt reinvented herself.  She founded the Hollywood Patterns, a subsidiary of Condé Nast.  She was, as well, secretary of the Birth Control Federation of America.

In 1939, Sara Johnson Woodward's health began to fail.  She died in her apartment at the age of 77 on January 9, 1940.  Just five months later, on June 21, Mary Woodward Reinhardt married Albert D. Lasker, former chairman of the United States Shipping Board.

John Anderson and his wife, the former Margaret Breuning  (an art critic), were still living here at the time.  Now the drama critic of the New York Journal American, he was also an author and playwright, and president of the New York Drama Critics Circle.  Among his books were the 1929 Box Office, Book of the White Mountains, released in 1930, and the 1938 The American Theatre.   His plays included The Inspector General and The Fatal Alibi.

On February 9, 1942, The New York Times reported that Efrem Zimbalist Jr. had leased an apartment here.  The son of the famous violinist and symphony conductor and the operatic star Alma Gluck, he was born on November 30, 1918.  While his parents were major figures in classical music, Zimbalist Jr. was drawn to the theater.  He took a job as a page for NBC radio in 1936 where he got small roles on air.  Zimbalist would go on to a highly successful career in television and film.

Efrem Zimbalist, Jr. (publicity photo for the U.S. Steel Hour, 1956)

Italian-born John Perona, who owned the El Morocco nightclub, had lived here as early as 1935.  That year, the 38-year-old bachelor had a live-in servant, 20-year-old Grey Clements, a Filipino immigrant.  Clements lived with and worked for him for at least five years.  By 1946, Perona had acquired a country home at Newton, New Jersey and now had two male servants in the East 52nd Street apartment.

John Perona (original source unknown)

Perona fired both servants in the fall of 1946.  Shortly afterward, on the evening of October 9, he returned to the city from Newton to find that "seven sets of cuff links and fifteen or sixteen cigarette lighters, gifts and valued by him at $20,000 were missing from his penthouse apartment at 400 East Fifty-second Street.," as reported by The New York Times.  The figure Perona gave to the police would translate to about $321,000 today.  It is unclear if he ever recovered his items.  Perona would remain here at least through the 1950s.

Among Perona's neighbors in the building was theater producer and director Cheryl Crawford.  Born in Akron, Ohio in 1902, she studied drama at Smith College and came to New York City in 1925.  In 1931 she, Harold Clurman, and Lee Strausberg formed The Group Theatre, a 12-week-long training and rehearsal course at Brookfield Center, Connecticut.  Among the fledgling actors whose careers were highly influenced by Crawford were Bojangles Robinson, Mary Martin, Helen Hayes, Ingrid Bergman, Ethel Barrymore, Tallulah Bankhead and Paul Robeson.  

Cheryl Crawford from the Class of 1925 Smith College yearbook.

She co-founded the Actors Studio in 1947.  There major stars like Marlon Brando, James Dean, Steve McQueen, Jack Nicholson and a nearly endless list of others began their careers.

Attorney Ethelbert Warfield and his wife, the former Alice Blum had moved in in 1936.  Born in 1898, he graduated from the Dickinson Law School and was now a member of Satterlee, Warfield & Stephens.  He and Alice maintained a summer home in Oyster Bay, Long Island.  In 1955, the couple had two domestic servants here, a live-in maid and a "housemaid," Sigrid Tovia, who had worked every Thursday since 1948.  (Sigrid Tovia was the Anglicized version of her birth name, Sirri Toivanen.)

Sigrid was described by her co-worker as always wearing "inexpensive, old clothes and welcomed gifts of leftover bread and meats, which she carefully put away into her paper shopping bag."  The Warfields were out of town on March 22, 1955.  That evening Sigrid left the apartment and headed home.  At 6:00, while crossing East 60th Street near Second Avenue, the 80-year-old was struck and run over by a crosstown bus.  She died under the bus.  The New York Times reported, "The police at the scene paid scant notice at first to the brown bag in the victim's hands."  In it was $21,617 in cash (more than a quarter of a million dollars today).  She had also been carrying a straw-handled purse in which were two deposit books showing $14,575 in savings.

After owning 400 East 52nd Street for half a century, on June 30, 1985, The New York Times reported that Bing & Bing had sold 29 apartment buildings, including this one.  The newspaper commented, "The Bing & Bing buildings are regarded as among the city's finest prewar properties."  Two years later, the building was converted to a cooperative.

Other than the loss of the casement windows, Emery Roth's Depression Era structure and its architectural siblings are, happily, little changed.  

many thanks to Rene Tatnall for suggesting this post and for showing me around the building.

photographs by the author

The Alexander and Elisabeth Lewyt House - 431 East 52nd Street

 

image via sothebysrealty.com

An advertisement for the rural Mount Vernon Hotel around 1800 boasted its soup "made from the fine green turtles fattening in a crawl made for that purpose in the East River."  The abundance of the turtles gave the East River neighborhood the name Turtle Bay.  The district that had seen gracious summer estates in the 18th century developed with tenements and industrial buildings in the post-Civil War years. 

In 1879, Mitchel Valentine erected two four-story "flat," or apartment, buildings at 431 and 433 East 52nd Street.  Most likely identical, the Italianate-style structures each held one apartment per floor.  Valentine sold 431 East 52nd Street to George and Barbara Baumann on December 1, 1882 for $8,200 (about $260,000 in 2025).

The New York Sun, September 24, 1934

The Baumanns moved into one of the apartments.  The couple had at least two children, George William and Pauline.  Despite the somewhat gritty neighborhood, the Baumanns' tenants were professional and middle-class, like the Glasher family whose son, Herman, who was enrolled in City College in 1879.

Pauline Baumann died "after a short illness" on December 16, 1898.  Her funeral was held in the apartment two days later.

George Baumann was one of a long list of residents and businessmen who petitioned Jacob A. Cantor, Borough President, on April 22, 1902.  They requested that, "Fifty-second street, between First avenue and [the] river, be repaved with sheet asphalt on present foundation."

George William Baumann graduated from Stevens Institute in 1921.  Following his marriage, he brought his bride, Pauline, back to 431 East 52nd Street to live.  

After owning the vintage building for half a century, on April 9, 1934, The New York Sun reported that the Baumanns had sold 431 East 52nd Street to real estate operator Frederick Brown.  The article reflected the changing tenor of the once sketchy neighborhood, noting that the 20-foot-wide building sat "directly adjoining and facing the garden entrance of River House, one of the city's outstanding apartment buildings."

Brown almost immediately resold the property to the newly organized Four Thirty-one East Fifty-second Corporation.  Despite the ongoing Great Depression, the firm embarked on what many must have seen as a risky proposition.  On March 21, 1935, The New York Sun titled an article, "Changing a Tenement Into New Town House."  The owners had hired architects Samuel A. Hertz and Robert C. E. F. de Veyrae to remodel 431 East 52nd Street into a luxurious townhouse.  The article said, "The plans are especially interesting in view of the fact that the usual alteration has been from private dwelling to apartments."

The architects projected the construction cost at $42,000, about $960,000 today.  On June 26, 1935, The New York Sun reported,

Servants' rooms and kitchen will be on the basement floor; dining room on the first floor; a living room on second floor; chambers [i.e., bedrooms] on third floor, and playroom and chamber on top floor.

Hertz and De Veyrae transformed the Victorian apartment building to an understated Art Moderne-style townhouse.  The entrance sat within a tall, shallow frame.  The deep-set French windows within subtle frames were fronted by sleek railings.  A geometric cornice above the third floor provided a balcony of sorts to the fourth.  

A canvas canopy shields the "roof terrace."  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

On December 5, 1940, The New York Sun reported that Alexander M. and Elisabeth Lewyt had purchased the residence.  

Born in 1908 in Washington Heights, Lewyt was the son of an Austrian immigrant.  As a teenager, he worked in his father's shop that manufactured metal items like coat hangers.  He quickly displayed his inventive bent.  The New York Times would later recall,

When he heard an undertaker's supplier complain that it was hard to fasten neckties around corpses, Alex, who was not yet 16, devised a new kind of bow tie that would clip on.  He sold 50,000 of them, but it is unclear whether he ever patented the concept.

Following his father's death, he renamed the business Lewyt Corporation.  Alexander M. Lewyt eventually held scores of patents, his most famous being the Lewyt Vacuum Cleaner.

An 1948 ad touted the various uses for the Lewyt Vacuum Cleaner.

The Lewyts also maintained homes in Sands Point, Long Island and Chartres, France.  A director of the Metropolitan Museum  of Art, he and Elisabeth were avid collectors of French art.  They filled the 52nd Street house with works "by Bonnard, Cézanne, Degas, Gauguin, and Renoir," according to the Horatio Alger Association.

When America entered World War II, the Lewyt Corporation obtained military contracts to manufacturer radar antennas and similar components.  He was made a member of the French Legion of Honor for the company's work in making equipment for the Allies.

Elisabeth Lewyt was involved in philanthropy, the theater and animal welfare.  An "angel," or backer of the production of plays, she invested $3,000 in the play Moontide in 1952, for instance.

Alexander M. Lewyt, via horatioalger.org

Alexander Lewyt resigned in the late 1950s, selling his firm to the Budd Corporation.  He now devoted his time to the North Shore Animal League which he and Elisabeth had helped found.  The New York Times reported that he made the change because, "my wife adored animals, and I adored my wife."

In 1960, the Lewyts enlarged the house with a fifth floor, set back from the roofline and behind the terrace.  It was used as a guest suite.

Alexander M. Lewyt died in the Sands Point home on March 18, 1988.  In reporting his death, The New York Times remarked, "For the last 30 years, he was president of the North Shore Animal League on Long Island, and was credited with restoring it to solvency and turning it into one of the largest animal shelters in the country."

On December 12, 2012, the Florence Morning News of Florence, South Carolina reported, "The longtime chair of the North Shore Animal League who championed a no-kill rescue philosophy has died."  Elisabeth Lewyt had died at the Sands Point house at the age of 90 on December 9.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Lewyts' art collection, valued at an estimated $65 million, was auctioned at Sotheby's in May 2013.  Five months later, on October 11, The New York Times reported that 431 East 52nd Street had sold for $8 million.

Groceries, Beer, and Adulterated Baking Powder -- 982 Second Avenue

 

photo by Ted Leather

The Turtle Bay section of Manhattan got its name from Turtle Bay Farm, a 40-acre land grant given to two Englishmen by the Dutch colonial governor of New Amsterdam in 1639.  Once an area of summer homes of wealthy New Yorkers, it saw tremendous change following the end of the Civil War.  By the mid 1860s, modest dwellings and rows of flat buildings had been erected to house workers in the gritty businesses built to take advantage of the riverfront.  Immigrants found jobs in breweries, cigar factories, gasworks, slaughterhouses and cattle pens, and piers.  At one point there were 18 acres of slaughterhouses (or abattoirs) along First Avenue alone.

Among the flat and store buildings was 982 Second Avenue at the southeast corner of 52nd Street.  Completed around 1866, it was four stories tall and clad in red brick above the storefront, which was likely cast iron.  Its unpresuming Italianate design included molded brownstone lintels and a simple cornice upheld by a row of modest corbels.

In 1867 the store was occupied by John E. Meyer's grocery.  Upstairs were respectable, blue collar tenants like William Ward, a builder; and William Jones, who was a seaman. Another German, Kaufman Baer, took over the grocery store in 1873.  Five years later, he sold it to Richard and Herman Seekamp.  It was the second Seekamp Brothers grocery, the other being a few blocks south at 106 Second Avenue.

The working class tenants of 982 Second Avenue often struggled to maintain a livelihood.  Teenaged children left school to help with their families' finances.  On October 24, 1878, for instance, a situation wanted advertisement in the New York Herald read, "982 2d Av--Young girl as first class laundress in private family; city references."

The less privileged New Yorkers also had to deal with unscrupulous merchants, who sometimes mixed other ingredients into their products.  Some, for instance, diluted milk and then added fillers and coloring agents--like plaster of Paris and molasses--to make the resulting product look and taste like wholesome milk.  The indefensible practice prompted the passage of the State Board of Health's Adulteration Law.

Unfortunately for Turtle Bay residents, they had one such merchant operating among them.  On December 14, 1882, The Sanitary Engineer reported that Herman Seekamp had been arrested by state investigators "for selling cream of tartar which was adulterated with ground gypsum."  Cream of tartar was, essentially, what is known as baking powder today.  The article explained, "The adulteration...amounted to from 37 per cent to 92 per cent of terra alba or ground gypsum."

Significant change to the corner store came in 1886 when John W. Holt took over the lease and converted the grocery to a saloon.  Interestingly, he and his family did not move into one of the apartments above the tavern, but lived two doors away at 986 Second Avenue.  In 1890 Holt negotiated with the Peter Doelger Brewery and gave the firm a chattel mortgage on the store.  While he continued operating his saloon, it was now controlled by the brewery, which dictated that only Doelger products could be sold here.

The Turtle Bay neighborhood had been greatly German and Irish when 982 Second Avenue was built.  The gradual influx of Italians was reflected in 1895 when Gaetano Gardiulo received a permit to operate a stand on the sidewalk out front.  It allowed him to sell "newspapers, periodicals, fruit and soda-water."

In 1898 the saloon became O'Reilly & Lavelle, run by Thomas O'Reilly and Dominick Lavelle.  Three years later, after Lavelle dropped out and O'Reilly brought his brother James into the business, it was renamed O'Reilly & O'Reilly.  Outside, the fruit stand was being operated by Italian immigrant Antonio Barbarbera in 1901.

As John W. Holt had done, in 1904 O'Reilly & O'Reilly negotiated a chattel mortgage with a brewery.  They were now obligated to sell only Lion Brewery beers and ales.

Not all of the upstairs tenants came and went about their business quietly.  On the morning of October 1, 1909, Milton Levy entered the fish store of Peter Chinchino at 115th Street and Third Avenue.  The New York Call reported that, according to Chinchino, Levy, "started in to wreck the place.  He broke dishes, threw fish on the floor and was smashing an electric light when Policeman Hargrove interfered."

Facing a charge of disorderly conduct, Milton Levy pleaded with Magistrate O'Connell that he had never been arrested before and asked for leniency.  The New York Call reported, "He was about to escape with a $2 fine when one of the court officers remembered his face and said the man had been in custody before."  O'Connell was not happy with being lied to.  After he "lectured him," he sent Levy to the workhouse.

By 1911 the saloon had been converted to a wine store.  On May 25 that year, the American Meat Trade and Retail Butchers Journal commented, "'Those who known a good wine know Endlich, Feit & Co., of 982 Second avenue,' is a saying peculiarly true in this instance.  Many of the affairs recently given by the socially inclined in the meat trade were catered to by Endlich, Feit & Co., with long necked, dusty bottles of grape.  In the central section of Manhattan they are well known, and their fame is spreading."

But Prohibition put an end to the long tradition of beer, ale and wine within 982 Second Avenue.  In 1921 the ground floor was home to M. Lieberman's furniture store.  An advertisement in January that year touted, "Special Sale--Great reduction on all kinds of furniture, carpets, oilcloths, baby carriages, trunks &c."

By the second half of the century, change was coming to the Turtle Bay neighborhood as modern, high-rise apartment buildings replaced the old flat buildings and lured upper-middle-class residents.  On March 5, 1964, the New York Post reported on singer Mark Plant's new "antiquery," named Push Cart East.  It survived into the early 1970s, replaced by the vintage clothing store, Classic Clothes.  The space was home to two restaurants before, as had been the case in 1867, it once again became a grocery store.   Upstairs are a total of 14 apartments.

many thanks to reader Ted Leather for requesting this post.

no permission to reuse the content of this blog has been granted to LaptrinhX.com

The 1885 Nos. 928 and 930 Second Avenue

 

photograph by Ted Leather

In May 1867 New York City passed the nation's first housing reform code, the New York Tenement House Act.  In response to the often deplorable conditions suffered by impoverished tenants, the city now regulated sanitation, ventilation and room size.  And so, when plans were filed for two flat buildings at 928 and 930 Second Avenue in April 1884, The Board on Plans for Light and Ventilation of New Tenement-Houses carefully reviewed them.  On May 7 the "plumbing and drainage for the new buildings" passed muster.

Designed by Jobst Hoffmann for Ernest Von Au, they were completed in 1885.  Each of the identical structures was 25-feet-wide and five stories tall.  Above the ground floor commercial spaces, they were clad in red brick and trimmed in sandstone.  Stone band courses above the second and fourth floors visually divided the upper floors into three sections.  The handsome neo-Grec design included incised carvings in the lintels of the second and fourth floors, and gracefully scalloped lintels at the third.  Most impressive, however, were the ambitious pressed metal cornices, their mid-sections adorned with swags and large fans, and topped by decorative hoods.

John Kuhlenan opened a saloon in 928 Second Avenue.  It was taken over by 1893 by the Blau & Co. wine saloon, run by Julius G. and Moritz Blau.  At the time, the apartments were rented to a variety of middle-class occupants, including Dederick Goebelsmann and Edward Muller, both of whom were bakers; Henry Silverman, a harness maker; and engineer Thomas F. Hennessey.

The tenants of 930 Second Avenue in 1893 held similar positions.  Levi Singerman and Lawrence McCann were clerks; Edward Sann worked as a guard; John Edelstein was a barber; William T. Keyes was a clerk; and John J. McEvoy was a mason.  The store was home to Gertrude Schlosser's millinery shop.

Leo Reiss, who drove a wagon for George Ringler's brewery, lived at 928 Second Avenue when he was arrested on October 1, 1895.  He drove his wagon along the tracks of the Third Avenue Cable Car directly in front of a cable car.  The Sun reported he "continued on the track, walking his team slowly, despite the remonstrances of the conductor and gripman."  In addition to inconveniencing the passengers, the cable car was pulling a mail car.  

The 30-year-old was arrested for "having blockaded the United States mail service."  The prosecutor wanted to have him held for a Federal grand jury, but the magistrate was sympathetic.  According to The Evening Post, he "denied the motion, on the ground that Reiss was drunk, and also that he was ignorant that a mail-car was attached to the passenger car."  He got off with a $5 fine.

The saloon at 928 Second Avenue was taken over by Nadel & Feit in 1901.  The excise, or liquor, license was in Joseph  Feit's name.  In the meantime, Gertrude Schlosser's hat shop next door had become John D. Ahlf's "butter, cheese and eggs store" by 1898.

A tragic story played out in 930 Second Avenue in 1899.  Fannie Mickelbank caught a cold that developed into pneumonia, and on November 28 she was transported to Roosevelt Hospital.  The Evening Post reported that her condition "made her so delirious and violent that she had to be strapped to her cot."  A nurse was "in constant attendance" by her bed.

But around midnight on November 30 the nurse "had occasion to leave the room for a few moments," according to The Morning Telegraph.  Fannie somehow broke free of the leather straps.  The nurse returned just in time to see her patient rushing to the window.  "It took her but a moment to open it and leap out," said the article.  Fannie plummeted four floors to the ground and died two hours later.

Another tragic story was that of Benjamin Langfritz, who lived at 928 Second Avenue in 1912.  Langfritz worked at the Independent Ice Company and, according to the New York Herald, "was in the habit of spending his Sundays fishing in [Jamaica] bay."  At 10:00 on the morning of March 24, he rented a boat at Hoob's Hotel and went fishing.  But around 2:30 a violent storm swept over Jamaica Bay.  When Langfritz failed to return, Christian Hoob and two employees searched for him.  The New York Herald reported, "They found his overturned boat in Hasset Creek, but after returning to the spot with grappling hooks and dragging the channel, they were unable to find the body."

More than three weeks later, on April 15, oysterman Henry Reinhardt was "tonging" the bay for shellfish.  The Daily Long Island Farmer reported that Benjamin Langfritz's body "was brought up by the tongs."

Charles Mundy, who lived at 928 Second Avenue in 1913, worked on a "diving scow."  He was in the cabin on the morning of December 14 when two men came on deck, identifying themselves as detectives.  They demanded to know where certain stolen goods were that had been taken from the pier the night before.

Mundy said he knew nothing about the stolen cargo, and invited them inside to investigate.  The Evening Telegram reported, "As soon as the men were well inside the cabin, one of them struck Mundy on the jaw, sending him with a crash against the wall."  Before he could recover, the second man hit him with the butt of his revolver, knocking him out.  When Mundy regained consciousness, he was bound to a chair, gagged and blindfolded.  The thieves went through his pockets, removing $150 in cash, a gold watch and chain, two gold penknives, and his key ring.  The newspaper added, "They did not overlook even his gold sleeve links."

After the crooks left, it took Mundy nearly an hour to chew through his handkerchief gag.  His cries alerted Roger Collins, who was working in another part of the barge.  At the Fourth Avenue station house, he gave a detailed description of the fake detectives.

In the first years of the 20th century New York City businessmen were terrorized by the Black Hand, an Italian-American extortion group also known as La Mano Nera.  By 1915 Frank Razza operated a barber shop in 930 Second Avenue.  On the morning of March 7 that year, Joe Pitia and Paul Sanszoni arrived at the shop to open up.  The New-York Tribune reported, "they found a bomb leaning against the door.  The fuse had been lighted, but the machine failed to explode."

The bomb was about ten inches long encased in a sheet iron box bound with wire.  When Razza arrived, he carefully placed the device in water and took it to the Second Branch Detective Bureau.  Razza and, indeed, the upstairs residents had narrowly escaped disaster.  Owen Eagen, the Inspector of Combustibles, announced that the bomb "was more powerful than either of the bombs found in St. Patrick's Cathedral."

Following the enactment of Prohibition, saloon owners like Nadel & Feit were tasked with legally disposing of its stock.  On July 22, 1920, Joe Mancuso arrived at the saloon and presented a permit to remove five barrels of alcohol.  Coincidentally, just as he finished loading them onto his truck, two Prohibition agents arrived on the scene.  They examined the permit and declared it a forgery.  Mancuso bolted across the street, got in a waiting automobile and escaped.

Prohibition, of course, ended the long tradition of a tavern at 928 Second Avenue.  At mid-century it was home to a restaurant, Annette Le Petit Veau.

The two buildings were sold and resold over the decades, but always remained under a single owner.  The second half of the 20th century saw the What Not Bargain Shop in 930, described by New York on $5 & $10 A Day in 1969 as one of the "rock-bottom-priced places which both buy, sell and exchange used furniture."  By the early 1970s, Samuel Narefsky Antiques occupied the space.  The store specialized in vintage hardware like "handles, hinges, pulls, knobs, key-plates, sconces" and such, according to New York Magazine on September 25, 1972.

By then, the ground floor of 928 was home to Knickers restaurant and bar.  One of the bartenders there in 1972 was somewhat unusual.  Dale R. Lind was an ordained Lutheran clergyman.  The New York Times reported on August 16 that year, "Acting with approval of local authorities of the Lutheran Church in America, Mr. Lind has forsaken traditional parish duties for what he likes to call a 'ministry of presence.'  From his post behind the bar he helps people through their lover's quarrels and vocational problems, shares their joys and lets some lonely New Yorkers know that someone cares about them."

The buildings as they appeared in 2014.  image via Google Streetview

Knickers was replaced by Sip Sak, a Thai restaurant in the early 2000s.  When it opened, the two vintage apartment buildings showed their age.  A 20th century coat of white paint was dirty and peeling, and one of the striking cornice hoods was tagged with graffiti.  A renovation of the buildings in 2017 repaired the facade, and removed the old paint from the stonework.

many thanks to reader Ted Leather for requesting this post.

LaptrinhX.com has no authorization to reuse the content of this blog