The 1895 Gibbes Building - 66 West Broadway

 

In the early decades of the 19th century, the neighborhood around West Broadway and Murray Street was home to affluent families.  An advertisement in 1833 gave a telling description of 65 Murray Street, on the northwest corner of West Broadway.  The three-story-and-attic house had "folding doors between front and back parlors" (what today we would call pocket doors), "handsome marble mantle pieces, grates in first and second stories, four finished bed-rooms in the garret."  The garret, or attic, bedrooms would have been reserved for four live-in servants. The ad called 65 Murray Street a "desirable residence for genteel families."

But as the end of the century neared, little hint of the Federal style homes survived as loft and store buildings increasingly replaced them.  On February 2, 1895, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported, "At No. 65 Murray street a new seven-story stone and iron fire-proof store and loft building, 25x125, is to be erected."  Horace S. Ely & Co. had hired architect William E. Bloodgood to design the structure.  

Bloodgood had been active in the district for two decades, often working in partnership with Freeman Bloodgood as Bloodgood & Bloodgood.   Among his handsome designs in the area was 510 Broadway, completed in 1879.

His design for the Gibbes Building would be markedly modern and different, one of the first New York City structures to draw on the Commercial Style, which was still developing in Chicago.  Clad in Roman brick above a two-story cast iron base, its verticality was underscored with five four-story elliptical arches on West Broadway, each separated by Ionic piers.  The deeply overhanging cornice and the exposed rivet heads of the second story lintel were typical of the Commercial Style.  Bloodgood was not willing to completely forego tried-and-true styles, adorning the two-story limestone entrance frame with Beaux Arts decoration, and giving the cast iron piers expected 19th century ornamentation.

The Record & Guide noted the up-to-date amenities.  "The structure will contain elevators, steam-heating equipment, electric wiring and fixtures, structural, architectural and galvanized ironwork, iron shutters, and sanitary plumbing."

The Gibbes Building filled, mostly, with publishing firms.  A notable exception was William Somerville's Sons, which signed a lease in 1895.  "The Messrs. Sommerville have become very extensive dealers in scrap rubber," said The India Rubber World.

More typical tenants were the Industrial Press, publishers of  the monthly periodical Machinery; William E. Wilkins, publisher of the Merchants' Review; and Ashbel R. Elliott, head of A. R. Elliott Advertising and A. R. Elliott Publishing Co., which published medical books.  Also associated with the latter firm were Daniel M. and John M. Elliott.

At around noon on October 29, 1900, John M. Elliott took a lunch break on the roof of the Gibbes Building.  Twenty-five minutes later a massive explosion occurred in the Tarrant Building at Greenwich and Warren Streets, about a block and a half away.   Elliot watched in astonishment, later describing the event to a reporter from The Brooklyn Daily Eagle who reported:

He says the force of the first explosion was directly upward for a matter of thirty feet.  Then the column of debris spread and fell.  The roof of the building went up with the rest and he could hear the cries and screams of injured people.  The third explosion shook the building where he was and debris fell all about him.

Thomas McFarland, a clerk, had also left his desk in the Gibbes Building around noon.  He was standing in front of the Home Made Restaurant when the first blast occurred.  He told a reporter from the New-York Tribune, "I was hurled against a truck and lay there for some time without knowing what had happened.  I was badly bruised, but was not other wise hurt."

Another passerby to be blown off his feet was Harry Rose.  The Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported, "When he picked himself up he said he saw bodies flying through the air and landing in the flames."  The horror of the event sent working girls rushing for safety.  "At the building at 66 West Broadway," said The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, "a large number of girls employed in buildings nearer the explosion took refuge."

Edward F. Sweet was a private insurance broker.  His one-man business did not necessitate an office and around the time of the explosion he was renting desk space from A. R. Elliott.  An advertisement in The Evening Post on January 31, 1902 read in part, "If applied for promptly, I can supply a limited amount of absolutely safe life annuities on exceptionally favorable terms."  

It was common for well-to-do businessmen to move into their clubs or to a high-end boarding house during the summer months when their families went off to resorts.  The practice defrayed the expense and bother of keeping their homes open and full staff of servants employed.  Sweet's wife sailed to Europe in the summer of 1902, and he took rooms in a boarding house on Fifth Avenue at 99th Street.

The 50-year-old Sweet was an avid bicyclist, or "wheelman."  The Evening World said his bicycle was "his almost constant companion."  On September 12, the newspaper reported, "Edward F. Sweet, an insurance broker at No. 66 West Broadway, was found dead to-day on the beach at Fort Hamilton.  His body, naked except for a pair of swimming trunks, was discovered by a policeman."  The New York Times presumed he was the victim of "a fatal swim," saying "Not far away on the beach lay his bicycle and a bicycle suit."

By 1911 the publishers in the Gibbes Building were being supplanted by crockery and glass firms.  Among the tenants that year were the New York offices of Fostoria Glass Company, the French China Company, Central Glass Works, and the Consolidated Lamp & Glass Company.

The Gibbes Building in 1914 looked little different than it does today.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

Not every publisher had left the building, though.  As late as 1922 the A. R. Elliott Publishing Co. was still here, publishing the American Druggist, the New York Medical Journal, and the Spanish language Revista Americana, De Farmacia, Medicina y Hospitales.

At some point St. Luke's Hospital acquired the property.  It sold the Gibbes Building in March 1920 to the 416 West 215th Street Corporation.  The transaction prompted the New-York Tribune to mention, "It is occupied by many crockery firms," and The New York Times to call it "by far the finest office building in the neighborhood" and to point out its "graceful lines with perfect light arrangement."

Among the tenants at the time along with A. R. Elliott and the Consolidated Lamp & Glass Co. were the drug firm Meteor Products Co., Inc., the M. C. Liebert Manufacturing Co., the National Rattan & Cane Co., and the exporting firm Pass & Seymour, Inc.  Sharing a floor with Pass & Seymour were the Eagle Safety Razor Company and the Marcelle Hair Net Company.  On the second floor was Stewart's Chrystal & China Shop.

Like scores of companies owned by German Americans, the National Rattan & Cane Co. had been seized by the Government during World War I under the 1917 Trading with the Enemy Act.  It was still being operated by a Government administrator in 1920 when the Gibbes Building changed hands.

On the night of May 11, 1921, burglars broke into the Gibbes Building.  The safe crackers systematically went from one office to another, eventually hitting eleven companies and breaking into seven safes.  Their hard and long work went unrewarded, however.  The following day the New York Herald reported that after forcing open the safes "with bars and chisels" the would-be thieves "were disappointed in their search for loot."  The article said, 'no money or securities were stolen from any of the offices."  The Evening World explained, "downtown business men keep no money in the safes these days."

Gutsy robbers were more successful on August 24, 1934.  Just after George Ferris opened his jewelry shop two men walked in

and overpowered him.  They placed Ferris in handcuffs, then made off with 36 bar pins valued at $300.  The Sun reported, "Ferris was taken to Police Headquarters where the handcuffs were sawed from his wrists."

An unexpected tenant by the mid-1930s was the Aquarium Stock Company of New York.  Founded in 1910, it was the country's largest supplier of aquarium products.  When the Sportsmen's Show opened in the Grand Central Palace in 1938, the company presented a stunning display.  The New York Sun reported on February 19, "Twenty-one stainless steel domestic aquaria, comprising fifty species of tropical fish, are among the features to be seen."  The journalist was especially taken with "a ghost fish from the Amazon, called aternarchus albifrons."

Among the tenants in the 1940s was Harry Ross, who bought and sold "microscopes, telescopes, binoculars; all scientific, chemical laboratory apparatus," according to an ad in Popular Science in 1944.

Little changed today, the Gibbes Building remains, as judged by The New York Times a century ago, one of the finest buildings in the area.

 photographs by the author

many thanks to historian Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post

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

The Clark,Chapin & Bushnell Bldg - 177-179 Duane Street

Brothers William E. and Freeman Bloodgood made a good partnership.  Freeman was a builder and his brother an architect.   They established Bloodgood & Bloodgood which both designed and erected buildings--quite likely saving developers money.

As early as 1880 John I. Lagrave owned the commercial building at No. 179 Duane Street.  In 1885 he and John J. Jenkins, who owned the structure next door at No. 177, embarked on a cooperative project.  They hired Bloodgood & Bloodgood to design and construct a modern loft building on the combined properties.

Using the name F. & W. E. Bloodgood, the partners filed plans in March that year.  They called for "one six-story brick store," 50-feet wide, to cost $18,000, or just under $475,000 today.  Their employers may have been stretching their finances a bit thin on the project.  In August John J. Jenkins took out a mortgage for the full construction amount.

Completed within the year, the structure was an attractive industrial take on the neo-Grec and Queen Anne styles.  The elaborate cast iron Corinthian columns expected in the storefronts of a generation earlier were gone, replaced here by geometric, paneled columns which upheld a beefy entablature and cornice.  The upper floors were clad in red brick, highlighted by stone trim.  Slim keystones were embellished with incised decorations, emblematic of the neo-Grec style.   Queen Anne stepped forward at the top, where an elaborate terra cotta parapet took the place of a cornice.  Here a row of tiles sprouted large, stylized sunflowers.

The building became home to Clark, Chapin & Bushnell, wholesale grocers.  As was common, the firm painted its name across the front of the structure.

As the 1890's dawned, Clark, Chapin & Bushnell, like most of its neighbors, became the victim of corrupt cops.   As drays pulled up to deliver or load crates of goods, policemen would move in, demanding payment for "the use" of the sidewalk.

In 1894 the State Senate established the Lexow Committee to investigate police corruption.  While some businessmen were reticent to testify, no doubt fearing retribution, that was not the case with Clark, Chapin & Bushnell. 

Horse-drawn drays that pulled up to the sidewalk of Clark, Chapin & Bushnell, created an opportunity for corrupt cops.  New York--The Metropolis, 1902 (copyright expired)

On June 22 the firm's manager, Andrew J. Wellington, testified "We were very much annoyed by the police about one year ago.  A policeman came into the store and said that if wanted to back our trucks across the sidewalk there was a party in authority who would have to be paid.  A man called the next day.  He was not in uniform and I did not know him.  He said there was a regular fee to be paid, generally $50, for houses having so much frontage on the street, but ours would be $25."  The payoff would equal $700 today.

The labor unions which were taking root at the time gained power by the turn of the century.  The disparate interests of the workers and management sometimes boiled over into ugly and violent clashes.   When teamsters went on strike in December 1905, Clark, Chapin & Bushnell refused to give in to their demands.  They simply fired those on strike and hired new drivers.  It did not sit well with the union.  But, recognizing the potential of danger to its new employees, the firm put an armed guard on each truck.

Early in March 1906 the strike seemed to have been settled, and the guards were released.  The union men then launched a series of attacks, landing ten drivers in the hospital, one of whom would not survive.  In that case, a gang jumped onto his truck, beat him with heavy cotton bale hooks until he was unconscious, then threw his body into the street.

Then, at around 4:15 on the morning of March 14 a massive explosion occurred at the Duane Street building.  The New York Times reported "The entire shipping department was destroyed by the explosion.  The dynamite was thrown through a door opening on the street, the wire screen to which was wrenched off on Monday night and the glass panel broken."  The Evening World said "The vibration was so great that it was heard for a radius of half a mile."  Damages were estimated at $1,000, about 28 times that much today.

Ericsson F. Bushnell placed the blame on the shoulders of what today seems an unlikely target.  He ranted to reporters "I believe that if any one man more than any other can be blamed for the labor outrages of to-day that man is Theodore Roosevelt.  He has given the hoodlum element in labor circles the swelled head by interfering in coal strikes and by consorting with strike leaders."

The Sun, March 21, 1906 (copyright expired)

The ongoing labor feud may have contributed to the heart attack suffered by the firm's principal partner.  On April 25 The Times reported that "Frederick C. Clark, head of the firm of Clark, Chapin & Bushnell, 177 Duane Street, one of the oldest tea importing firms in New York City, died in his home in this city this afternoon of apoplexy."

The union had not yet made its point.  On July 22, just before midnight, a second bomb exploded.  The New-York Tribune reported "An attempt was made last night to wreck the warehouse of Clark, Chapin & Bushnell, wholesale grocers, at No. 177-179 Duane street.  Dynamite was used."  The damage was less severe this time.  "A hole about big enough for a cat to crawl through had been torn in the lower part of the steel sheathed oak doors.  In the stone flag which made the threshold of the door a jagged hole about a foot long and four or five inches wide had been torn straight through into the basement."

After two bombings, Police Officer Artemus Fish was posted on the block to keep watch on the building.  He thwarted a third attempt on the night of August 6 when he saw 24-year-old John Malone and 23-year-old Morris McAleer approach the building, and then loiter there.  Both had been employed as truck drivers for Clark, Chapin & Bushnell before the strike.

Fish walked up, flashed his shield, and ordered the men to "beat it."  He later explained the men replied "Beat it? We'll beat you for a change."  They then pulled out heavy metal truck spokes from their trouser legs and began pummeling the officer.  His cries for help were heard by two other beat cops, who arrived just in time.  Fish was nearly unconscious and bleeding from head wounds and other injuries.  Both men were captured and charged with the March bombing.

The union's violent methods did not work.  On the contrary, they steeled the already-adamant Ericcson Bushnell against organized labor.  He was in the courtroom the following day and, according to The Sun, "He declared his firm would fight them with its last dollar if necessary and never would recognize the union."

In 1909 Clark, Chapin & Bushnell was joined in the building by Drose & Snyder, wholesale butter and eggs merchants.  Headed by Charles F. Droste and James H. Snyder, it had branches in Newark and Paterson, New Jersey.   The firm not only moved in, but purchased the property.  Clark, Chapin & Bushnell remained on until around 1914.

The new owners replaced the outside advertising with its own.  New York Produce Review & American Creamery, 1909 (copyright expired)

Charles F. Droste kept himself busy.  In addition to being the head of one of the largest egg and butter operations in the Northeast, he was president of the American Paper Goods Co. and the Troy Cold Storage Co., and a director in Rock Island Butter Co. and Lawlor & Cavanaugh Co.

Reporters regularly sought his expertise to explain fluctuations in the market.  When egg prices dropped in 1911, he explained prices were driven by supply and demand--there were simply too many eggs that year.  "I do know that our warehouses are full of goods, and there is no market for them, and that we are facing a new season."  Eggs, unfortunately for wholesalers, were not like coats or shoes--they lasted only so long.  And when prices skyrocketed in 1916, Droste was once again called upon by reporters.  He told Dairy Produce what he had said five years earlier--it was all supply and demand.  "There are comparatively few eggs in the warehouses than were there in April...so that the eggs we now have in storage cost us considerably more than those in April."

While elevators were a welcomed convenience in the early 20th century, there were few if any safety regulations.  Many elevators in industrial buildings did not have doors or gates, a condition that regularly resulted in injuries and deaths.  On December 8, 1919 The Evening World reported that Teresa Vindora had died in the Duane Street building.  "She was working on the fourth floor and it is believed she peered into the elevator shaft to look for a car and lost her balance."

Charles F. Droste died on April 19, 1920, but the firm continued on without its well-known head for another five years.

New York Produce Review & American Creamery, 1922 (copyright expired)

On June 17, 1927 The New York Times reported the cheese importer Otto Roth had leased No. 177-179 Duane Street "for a long term of years and the building will be extensively renovated to suit the requirements."  In calling the lease "a long term of years" the newspaper was not wrong by a long shot.

Thirty-five years later, on August 5, 1963, The Times wrote "There are so many cheeses in this world that it would be virtually impossible to catalogue them all.  However, if a cheese is produced on a fairly extensive commercial basis, it is likely to be on the list of Otto Roth & Co."  The firm was celebrating its 100th anniversary at the time, and dealt in more than 300 varieties of cheese from about 15 countries.   The article's author, Nan Ickeringill, described each floor of the Duane Street building as "cheese-perfumed."

Each of the cheeses demanded different care.  Cheddars sat on racks as they aged.  "We age the Cheddars here for about a year before selling them," explained president Benjamin Villa.  "After the cheeses have been cured, they are dipped into dark paraffin to distinguish them from unaged cheeses."

Ickeringill wrote "In another room, Provolone cheeses festooned the ceiling in quantities reminiscent of balloons at a New Year's Eve dance."  On a lower floor were "sacks of cartwheel-sized" Swiss cheeses.

But even as Ickeringill wrote her article, changes were coming to the old egg and butter district.  In 1979 the Harry Wassermann bakery operated from No. 177.  Its puff pastries were recommended by Dublin-born chef Pat Moore for authentic steak and kidney pie.  Next door was Damon Brandt's gallery of tribal and ancient art.

In 1998 the "cheese-perfumed" building which for for 113 years had been home to wholesale grocery and dairy merchants was converted to two cooperative apartments per floor.  Despite terrorist explosions and a century of neighborhood change, the facade of William E. Bloodgood's handsome loft building survives essentially intact.

photographs by the author

The Barrett, Nephews & Co. Bldg - 334 Canal Street

In 1879 attorney William Mitchell conceived of a project to replace the old brick commercial building at No. 334 Canal Street and the wooden structure on Lispendard Street directly behind it with a modern store and loft building.   Doing so would be a relatively long process.

In February the following year architect William E. Bloodgood filed plans calling for a "five-story brick store" with galvanized iron cornice.  The cost of the structure was projected at the equivalent of about $792,000 today.

Bloodgood came from a long line of builders and, in fact, had been listed in directories as a mason before opening his architectural office.  Not surprisingly, the contract for erecting No. 334 Canal Street went to Freeman Bloodgood, most likely a close relative.

In 1883, four years after Mitchell had first laid plans, the building was completed.  Bloodgood had turned to the trendy neo-Grec style, using contrasting white stone and red brick above the cast iron storefront to produce a striking effect.  The inherent geometry of the architecture was carried on in the cornice where pressed rectangles were separated by pairs of circles between the brackets.  The rear facade, at No. 37 Lispenard Street, was a slightly less enthusiastic version of the front.

The upper floors were leased to Carl L. Rose & Cohen, manufacturers of "cloaks and jerseys."   Shortly after moving in, in July 1884, Carl Rose took on a partner, Meyer G. Cohen, who had just moved to New York from Athens, Georgia, where he had been in business for 15 years.  Things went along smoothly for the partners--for a while.

Newspapers diplomatically said the two men "quarreled."  The situation became unworkable and they agreed to part ways.  Carl Rose, however, made the better deal.   Cohen agreed to pay him $25,000 (a satisfying $665,000 today) for his share and to take over all the firm's debts.

Things went downhill for Meyer Cohen.  Optimistic, he "bought heavily" in the spring of 1889, but subsequent sales were mediocre.  He was left with a large amount of unsold stock and in order to pay his overhead he "endeavored to tide over by borrowing largely from two banks," according to The New York Times.

On September 5, 1899 100 girls showed up for work at No. 334, only to find the doors locked.  They waited around confused on the sidewalk several hours.   The Times summed up the situation saying "The big five-story manufactory of Meyer G. Cohen...was closed all day yesterday and Mr. Cohen could not be seen."  Cohen's attorney painted a grim picture.  "Mr. Cohen had failed and had gone to pieces."

Several smaller firms took the place of Meyer G. Cohen.  Among them was wholesale apparel firm Herman Schuman & Co.  In the summer of 1891 the company found a new bookkeeper in Henry M. Barnes.  He had recently relocated from Chicago where he had worked for Marks Bros., another wholesale clothier.  It would appear that Herman Schuman & Co. narrowly dodged a bullet.

On Friday, October 2, Detective Foley arrived at the office and arrested Barnes.   A few days earlier Police Inspector Thomas F. Byrnes had received a letter from R. W. McClaughry, Chief of Chicago Police.  It told a tale that could have been plucked from a melodrama.

The Sun began its flowery report on October 4 saying "On the desk before Justice O'Reilly at the Tombs yesterday was a small photograph of two faces.  One was that of a man 32 years old with black moustache and clear-cut features.  On his shoulder a beautiful girl with dark hair and bright eyes reclined her head."

The man, of course, was Henry M. Barnes, and the girl was Emma Stern, "who is said to have been a belle in Chicago."  The two had fallen in love.  But rather than marrying and being content with the lives of a bookkeeper and his wife, they had grander ideas.  On June 5 Barnes stole $2,500 from his employers and he and his sweetheart fled to New York with the intentions of going to England to live.

Instead the money ran out.  Barnes found his job at Herman Schuman & Co. and Emma was hired in the chorus of a stage troupe, "Castles in the Air."  Barnes's impulsive felony for love garnered him nothing more than a prison sentence.   At the time of his arrest Emma was on stage "in the West."

Other manufacturers in the building were David M. Geber, "dry goods and hosiery;" L. Reiss, makers of "knee pants;" and Morgenstein & Robinson, cloak makers.  The grueling schedule of garment factory workers before the turn of the century was evidenced in the State's factory inspection report in 1896.  Morgenstein & Robinson employed 50 men, 25 women, and 10 girls under 21 years old.  They all worked 56 hours during the week and 8.5 hours on Saturdays.

The sparse decoration is limited almost solely to the deeply-incised medallions at each floor.

A small fire that broke out in the building on May 31, 1895 did not cause damage to it nor to the tenants' factories or stock; but it ruined a police officer's career and reputation.   Officer Francis J. Clarke had been on the force 18 years.  The day before, Memorial Day, he had gone to Calvary Cemetery with his Grand Army Post to lay flowers on the graves of soldiers.  The day was very hot and Clarke suffered heat exhaustion.

Nevertheless, he showed up for work at 8:00 the following morning, although he complained of not feeling well.  When the call of fire at No. 334 arrive around 10:00, he answered it.  After helping search for the cause of the alarm, he went outside and sat down on the sidewalk.  Another officer, Michael F. McLaughlin, asked what was wrong.  "I ain't very well, Mac; I am very sick," he reportedly answered.

After McLaughlin brought him a glass of water, Clarke felt he was well enough to resume duty.  He walked through No. 334 and out onto Lispenard Street, where he again had to sit on the pavement.  By now fire fighters had arrived and somehow Clarke's brother had heard that there was a sick policeman in the store.  Knowing his brother had been ill the day before, he rushed to the scene.

Court transcripts documented that "his brother recognized him, ran out, and brought him a glass of whiskey."  He said "Here, Frank, take this and it will bring you around all right."   Clarke returned to the station house, too sick to go home.

His brother's good intentions landed him in police court, faced with multiple charges including intoxication on the job.  On August 10, 1895 The Sun reported "Patrolman Francis J. Clark [sic] of the Leonard street station was found guilty of being under the influence of liquor and dismissed from the force."

By 1901 Barrett, Nephews & Co. had taken over the entire building.  The Staten Island dyeing establishment had been founded in 1819 and still operated its large dying plant there.  The Canal Street location was used for "pressing and finishing."

The Sun, March 14, 1909 (copyright expired)

One of Barrett, Nephews & Co.'s youngest employees earned unexpected press coverage in 1906.  Charles Levy, who was 15 years old, lived with his family on Clinton Street.  On Sunday morning, June 17 he went out to meet friends.  Before long a boy told Charles's young sister, Rachel, that Charles "had been lured away by a big, tall man and taken to Philadelphia."

Rachel rushed home, pulling the boy along.  He repeated the story--without many details--to the Levy family.  The Sun reported "They rushed over to Police Headquarters and a description of the missing Charles was wired to Philadelphia straightaway."  An hour later police picked up Charles as he got off the train.  "But no report came of the capture of anybody answering to the description of the kidnapper," wrote The Sun.

As police investigated closer to home, the mystery began to unravel.  Charles's friend, Theodore Arkin, did not recall seeing a kidnapper; but he did admit "that Charles had been talking with the boys about Philadelphia for a week past, saying what a splendid town that was for any bright, wideawake young fellow to get a start in."

As it turned out, Charles was avoiding corporal punishment at home.  At the Philadelphia police station he confessed "I wasn't kidnapped.  I was only hiding.  You see I lost $10 belonging to my father and I was afraid he might lick me, so I framed it up with another boy to go tell father that a strange man had carried me off and then I ran away."

The bookkeeper for Barrett, Nephews & Co. in 1908 was William C. Candlish who, sadly for him, had an eye for the ladies.   On Friday July 24 he left the office to deposit $129 in the bank.  But he never came back.  The firm notified the police and he was arrested at his home the following Sunday night.  The New York Times reported on July 28 "the police say he admitted he had spent the money on chorus girls."

In 1913 Barrett, Nephews & Co. cautiously entered the motorized age.  It purchasing a "self-propelled delivery vehicle" to test among its scores of horse-drawn trucks.  The results were heartening.  On April 1, 1914 The Power Wagon reported "For the past year the Barrett, Nephews interests have been using a Chase truck with such success that they are pretty well convinced, according to the expression of Secretary William Chayne, that motor transportation is the only solution of delivery-to-customer problems."

Fame magazine, March 1917 (copyright expired)

For whatever reason, customers saw a marked increase in the price of new garments following the end of World War I.  The trend resulted in increased business for dyers and dry cleaners like Barrett, Nephews & Co.  On July 10, 1919 president Henry B. Palmer explained to a reporter from the New-York Tribune, "High prices for garments are forcing Americans to be more chary about their expenditures for clothing...In my judgment many men, among them clerks and public employes, and even professional men, after looking twice at their outer garments and then measuring the cost of buying a new suit of clothes deem it expedient to have the old suit restored by the cleaners' process."

The cost savings extended to household textiles, as well.  "Housewives of an economical bent of mind who find it now costs as much, if not more, than in war time to buy curtains, blankets and portieres, are invoking the aid of the cleaner in an effort to make the old things last as long as the warp and filling of the fabric hold together."

The increase in business seems to have required additional staff.  On May 19, 1920, for instance, Barrett, Nephews & Co. placed ads for several different positions.  One sought a "Young woman, office work, at the executive offices of large dyeing and cleaning establishment;' splendid opportunity to learn bookkeeping."  The starting salary for that job was $183 per week in today's dollars.

Another ad read "Young woman to learn branch office business of well known dyeing and cleaning establishment; good opportunity for advancement; substantial salary paid while learning."

The firm suffered a tragedy later that year when 67-year old director John David Barrett was struck by a train in Greenwich, Connecticut station.  How he ended up in the path of the train is unclear, but he died the same day without regaining consciousness.

After having occupied No. 334 Canal Street for more than a quarter of a century, Barrett, Nephews & Co. purchased the property from the Mitchell estate in 1927.

The firm remained in the building until about 1964.  Afterwards No. 334 was home to a variety of business, like the United Blower Co., Inc. here in the 1980's.   A transformation came in 2014 when the upper floors were converted to one spacious apartment per floor.

photographs by the author