The 1867 Solomon Banta House - 68 Perry Street

 

Solomon Froeligh Banta had amassed a significant fortune by the end of the Civil War.  A former alderman, he owned a carriage making operation at 609 Hudson Street and erected speculative housing in Greenwich Village.  In 1867 he completed a brownstone-faced residence for his own family's use on the south side of Perry Street, between West 4th and Bleecker Streets.

Designed by architect William Naugle in the new French Second Empire style, its short stoop was protected by beefy iron railings and newels.  The parlor windows within the rusticated base were fully rounded, while the doorway was segmentally arched.  It wore an arched pediment supported on scrolled brackets.  At the second floor, graceful molded lintels sat above the floor-to-ceiling windows .  The fourth floor took the form of a stylish, slate-shingled mansard.

In 1941 the Banta house retained its entry pediment and handsome mansard.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Solomon's wife, Maria Roome, came from an old Greenwich Village family.  Of the couple's eight children, only three--Matthias, Sarah Froeligh, and Eliza Jane--were still alive when the Perry Street house was completed.  The Bantas' country home was in Englewood, New Jersey.

Matthias and his family lived at 58 Perry Street (renumbered 68 in 1879) with his parents.  An attorney, he and his wife, Eliza Ann Gedney, had four children (a fifth had died in infancy).

Sadly, Solomon Banta would not enjoy his opulent new home for long.  On August 6, 1868 he died "after a lingering illness," according to The New York Times, two months before his 67th birthday.  Unexpectedly, his funeral was not held in the house, but at the True Dutch Reformed Church, steps away at the corner of West 4th and Perry streets.   

Maria was at the New Jersey home when she died at the age of 64 on September 9, 1870.  Her body was brought back to the Perry Street house for her funeral on September 12.

Matthias and his family remained in the Perry Street house.  Three months after his mother's funeral, on the afternoon of New Year's Eve, it was the scene of a frightening accident.  A servant, Elizabeth Coleman, was washing windows and, despite the cold weather, leaned far out of the second floor to reach the outside of the panes.  The New York Dispatch reported that she "lost her hold, and fell a distance of twelve feet, fracturing her collar bone."

In 1874 Banta sold the Perry Street house to Joseph P. DeNeufville, a sashmaker whose shop was on West 20th Street near Seventh Avenue.  Moving in with him and his wife Anna were their two grown sons, Joseph Jr., who worked as a clerk; Solomon B., and his wife Jennie.  Solomon listed his profession simply as "merchant."

The family would remain in the house for years.  Around the turn of the century it was purchased by Dr. Burnett C. McIntyre.  It does not appear that McIntyre ever lived in the house, but used it for rental income.  He signed leases with Annie Wallace in 1909, Paolo Costa in 1911, and Ralph Alberton in 1917.  

By 1920 68 Perry Street was operated as a rooming house.  In January newlyweds Frank and Nancy Best moved in.  Their honeymoon period would be short.  The New York Herald explained, "eleven days later [she] found Best was not a prosperous advertising man, as he had told her.  She then started suit for separation."

Best had not seen the last of his wife.  Two years later, she had him arrested at 14th Street and Fifth Avenue on a charge of disorderly conduct.  She claimed "he had followed her from a restaurant in Greenwich Village and had annoyed her," according to the New York Herald.

In night court, Best's version was starkly different.  "Best said he was seated in the Greenwich Village restaurant when his wife entered and called him outside," said the article.  While Best testified, Nancy continually interrupted despite the magistrate's repeated warnings.  Finally he ordered her from the courtroom.

Nancy's outbursts annoyed Magistrate Oberwager to the point that he dismissed the charges against Best.  With a sexist bent typical of the period, he said, "Even if a woman sues a man for separation, she must not forget that she is still that man's wife, and he has a right to speak to her until the court legally grants her a separation."

Another set of newlyweds moved into 68 Perry Street in 1924.  Isaiah "Cy" Oggins had graduated from Columbia College in 1917 with a degree in history.  In 1923 he joined the Communist Workers Party of American, and the following year married Communist activist Nerma Berman.  Among the couple's revolutionary friends was anarchist Emma Goldman, who lived nearby at 36 Grove Street.

The couple became members of the Soviet underground by 1926, recruited to spy abroad for the Soviet Union.  They went to Germany in 1928 to establish a safe house.  Oggins would never to return to the United States.  In 1938 he was arrested, a victim of the Stalin purges.

Burnett G. MacIntyre hired architect Robert Techman to officially convert the house to furnished rooms in 1937.  Following MacIntyre's death, his estate sold the property to Charles E. Lent in March 1944 for $12,000--about $185,000 in 2023.

Another renovation, completed in 1960, resulted in two apartments per floor.  The exterior was pillaged with the removal of the entrance pediment and window lintels, a slathering of a stucco-like substance over the brownstone, and, most egregious, the replacing of the mansard with a flat-faced fourth floor and parapet.

The 1960 alterations were architecturally heartless.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

A years-long renovation begun in 2000 laudably brought the exterior of 68 Perry Street back to a 19th century appearance.  The stucco was removed and the brownstone restored, the parapet replaced with a period appropriate cornice, and refabricated stoop ironwork, lintels and entrance details installed.

photographs by the author

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

The Lost Latting Observatory - 42nd Street and Bryant Park

A sliver of the Crystal Palace can be seen at far right, across 42nd Street.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

London's 1851 Great Exhibition in Hyde Park was a sensation.  In response New York City launched its own international exposition two years later, housed in an engineering marvel--the Crystal Palace.   The exhibition took up the western half of what would become Bryant Park, behind the massive Croton Reservoir which faced Fifth Avenue.

There would be another amazing feat of engineering at the fair, the Latting Observatory across 42nd Street from the Crystal Palace.  Waring Latting envisioned a soaring tower--the highest structure in the city--from which fair visitors would get magnificent views of Staten Island, New Jersey and Long Island.  Designed by architect William Naugle, it would rise 315 feet, with landings at three levels.  The 75-foot square base tapered to about 8 feet at the pinnacle.  A contemporary pamphlet claimed that 2,000 people could "be accommodated at one time on its various landings."

As the tower rose in the spring 1853 a committee (or "jury") of citizens was sent to decide on its safety.  The men reported to the Board of Aldermen on April 24.  "A number of the Jury being practical builders, the matter was submitted more particularly to their judgment, and the opinion of all of them was that the structure in question is being erected upon correct principles, and will be perfectly safe for the purposes for which it was designed," reported The New York Times.

The reason the towering wooden structure was sturdy enough for the jury's approval was Naugle's ample use of iron bracing.  The diamond-pattern of the girders created strength and stability.  In June 1853 The Plough, The Loom, and the Anvil remarked on the engineering breakthrough and published a detailed explanation of the intricate design logistics.  The article added:

This structure deserves careful consideration in various respects.  It is a capital exhibition of architectural skill, and as such commends itself to the study of all practical artisans in that department.  Again, it is worthy of attention as the highest structure, we believe, on the continent; and thirdly as an observatory which commands an entire view of New-York and its environs.

The structure cost $150,000 to construct--nearly $5 million today.   Visitors climbed a winding staircase; however The Plough, The Loom, and The Anvil assured it was "so constructed as to tire, by the ascent, much less than one would anticipate.  The frequent landings furnish convenient opportunities for rest, and present sufficient inducements to detain the visitor, even though he may not need to rest."

Among those who agreed was the reporter from The New York Times who climbed the tower on opening day, June 30.  "The ascent is a little fatiguing, but it improves digestion."  

If fatigue was at all an issue for the reporter, it was quickly forgotten when he reached the summit.  "We must confess, that on ascending this tower yesterday, we were not prepared for the wonderful panorama which was presented to our view.  We were told that our eyes could sweep from forty to sixty miles through space, and we scarcely doubt the assertion."

The view from the top.  In what is now Bryant Park, the Crystal Palace is seen at right, the Croton Reservoir at left.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The writer mentioned the towns he could see from the top--Morrisania, Flushing, and Newark--as well as the Verrazano Narrows and Sandy Hook.  "Are these human beings that are walking beneath us?  The are.  They are very small, are they not?  But when Jersey City, and Hoboken, and Weehawken are almost footstools for your tower, of what account are human beings?"

The journalist rather dramatically concluded "And let only the sun crown with its rays the landscape and seascape that you behold and you may no longer desire to ascend the Alps or Andes."

Two days after the Latting Observatory opened both it and the Crystal Palace were threatened by violent weather.  The following day The New York Times reported that "a violent storm in the afternoon, accompanied by sharp lightning, a fierce hurricane through a section of the City, and the heaviest hailstorm known in this vicinity for many years, prostrated several buildings in the neighborhood of the Crystal Palace, and crushed a large number of persons beneath the ruins."

A team of reporters from the newspaper rushed to the fair site to see if the glass exhibition hall was shattered by the hailstones and if the Latting Observatory still stood.   A giant merry-go-round had been demolished, a tall brick wall next to the Observatory was blown down, and an entire block of wooden buildings on 44th Street being constructed "for saloons, refreshment rooms, &c." were destroyed.  But both the Latting Observatory and the Crystal Palace emerged nearly unscathed.

"The Latting Observatory withstood the blast nobly," reported The Times.  There had been a large number of workmen around 200 feet up when the hurricane hit.  "They were quite surprised to reach the ground in safety," said the article.  "In the saloon under the tower the plaster upon the ceiling is slightly cracked, and in one or two places has fallen off; but, with this exception the tall structure shows no sign of injury, and still stands, 'like Atlas, unremoved.'"

The journalist declared "So severe a test so well sustained, will tend greatly to increase public confidence in the solidity of this unequalled tower."

A few weeks after the tower's opening, its directors announced additional attractions.  A powerful "Drummond Light" was to be affixed to the top, which would be visible from sea and for miles around.  On the topmost landing a "monster telescope" was being installed which would afford visitors close-up views of sites 60 miles away.  Numerous other telescopes were positioned on the other landings along with exhibitions liked "dissolving views, cosmoramas, scientific and optical instruments, works of art, and many other objects of interest, useful and attractive," as reported by The Times on July 27.  The directors intended "not only to make this Observatory the highest structure upon this Continent, but to make it an object of special interest to all."

In September 1853 a brilliant comet, visible to the naked eye, could be seen in the night skies.  One astronomer in particular, Professor Jewett, foresaw doom.  He warned residents of the New York area that the comet would come crashing to earth, causing annihilation.

from the collection of the New York Public Library.

To ensure that citizens were forewarned, The New York Times put reporters atop the Latting Observatory and the spire of Trinity Church to watch for the incoming missile.  On September 12 the newspaper cautioned "Recollect it's got all day to come in, and at the rate of 30,000 miles a minute it can get over a good deal of ground in twenty-four hours."  The reporter suggested that his readers take the opportunity to end their lives on a charitable note.

"If, after reading the prophecy of Professor Jewett, and while laboring under a disagreeable uncertainty as to your personal safety, you committed a good deed--gave a poor woman a loaf of bread or an orphan some of your old clothes--don't take them back again until after 12 o'clock to-night, because there's no knowing what may happen."

The article naively advised "If you should hear any strange noise during the day, don't stop to look up, but put on your hat, and run as fast as you can, and if you can make better time than the Comet, you may escape."

At 2:30 that morning, just before the paper went to press, a panting reporter rushed into the news room from the Latting Observatory.  "He says that after levelling his opera-glass for several hours, and following the Comet all over Creation, he noticed a pause."  The Times concluded that the comet would not obliterate New York City.

When the city decided to erect a monument to George Washington, Waring Latting offered to erect another observatory on the Battery.  This one would be double the height of the original--topping off at an astonishing 600 feet.  Not everyone was quick to agree with the proposal.  Alderman Voorhis said he "was a lover of Washington, as were all good citizens, but he did not want to mix up the name of Washington with that of Latting--a mere speculator."

Those opposed to the idea may have been considering the fate of the existing Latting Observatory.  Shortly after the Exhibition closed in 1854, the structure was taken over by the Hydeville Marble Works, which chopped 75 feet off the top.   Once touted as a world class attraction, on October 20, 1855 The New York Times wrote "The Latting Observatory is converted into a shot tower."

Shot towers created shotgun ammunition by dropping molten lead through enormous sieve-like bowls.  As the drops of metal fell, they formed perfect spheres and upon hitting a large vat of water at the bottom, solidified to round shot balls.  The Observatory's somewhat humiliating new function would not last long.

Late on the night of August 30, 1856 fire broke out in the cooper shop of M. & E. Connolly on West 43rd Street.  It spread "with rapidity on every side," according to a newspaper.  The conflagration engulfed many buildings and destroyed more than $150,000 in property.  On September 1 The New York Times reported "The 'Latting Observatory' was completely destroyed, and the Crystal Palace was saved with much difficulty."

from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

But, interestingly enough, the legacy of Waring Latting's ground-breaking structure was yet to come.  Among the visitors to the tower in 1853 was French architect Gustave Eiffel.  William Naugle's structural ironwork stayed with him.  And when the French Government announced a contest on May 2, 1886 for an entrance tower for the Paris Exposition Universelle of 1889, Eiffel hearkened back to the Latting Observatory.  

In an article entitled "The New York 'Eiffel' Tower of 1853" Engineering News compared the two structures.  "The Latting Observatory was simply a well-braced 'observation mast,' rising fro an extremely ugly base, built without regard to beauty of form and for a purely commercial purpose.  The Eiffel Tower, on the other hand, while also primarily designed for the collection of fees from visitors, was in itself a thing of surpassing grace."

The article noted "It is only due to M. Eiffel to say that while he acknowledges that the original idea of a 1,000-ft. tower was borrowed from America, he has so improved upon this idea that his structure is as far beyond the proposed iron tower of 1878 as that structure exceeded the wooden tower of 1853."

And so, while the Latting Observatory stood for only three years, its design planted the seed for one of the most recognized structures in the world.

Another tower, the Grace Building, sits on the site today.  photo by WestportWiki

The T. E. F. Randolph House - 261 West 11th Street

The gently curved cornice above the entrance was originally mimicked above the windows.

In 1868 Mrs. W. Doscher completed construction of two upscale homes at Nos. 61 and 65 Hammond Street in Greenwich Village.   Between them was a Greek Revival house built in 1836, the now out-of-date style of which made Mrs. Doscher's new homes even more striking in comparison.

Architect William Naugle had melded the Italianate style with the highly popular French Second Empire.  Sitting upon rusticated brownstone English basements, the houses rose three stories to a stylish mansard roof clad in multi-colored slate shingles.  The elliptically-arched openings were graced by handsome curved cornices.

A year after the houses were completed Hammond Street was renamed West 11th Street.  Mrs. Doscher rented the houses, and in 1871 was looking for new tenants.    Her advertisement in The New York Herald described: "three story high stoop, mansard roof; all modern improvements."

The new occupants of No. 261 were the family of  Thompson Edgar Fitz Randolph; and it appears Randolph persuaded Mrs. Doscher to sell rather than lease.  The well-to-do Randolph was a member of the Produce Exchange and a trustee in the Knickerbocker and Nevada Silver Mining Company.  He had married Marie Antoinette Ireland in 1857 and theirs would have been a full house--the couple had eight children.

The family had barely moved in before it was the scene of a somber gathering.  Antoinette's brother, Lewis F. Ireland, died on November 26, 1871, and the funeral was held in the West 11th Street house.  Three years later, in December 1874, the funeral of Antoinette's mother, also named Antoinette, was held here.

The Randolphs were active members of The Church of the Strangers.  A relatively new congregation, it had been founded in 1866 with about 16 members.   The congregation rapidly grew, with 15 members added in 1867 and more than 50 in 1869.  The astonishing success of the fledgling church no doubt had much to do with the wealth and prominence of several of its early member.

For instance, when the congregation needed $50,000 to purchase the old Mercer Street Presbyterian Church for its permanent home, Cornelius Vanderbilt "stepped in without solicitation, bought and paid for the desired edifice, and then presented it a free gift to the Pastor and Church of the Stranger," according to The New York Times.  And in 1887 Joseph S. Taylor, in his A Romance of Providence pointed out "The wall behind the pulpit had been repainted and ornamented with appropriate inscriptions through the liberality and good taste of Mrs. F[rances]. A. Vanderbilt."

Randolph held the positions of clerk of the church's Board of Finance, and president of its governing body, the somewhat oddly-named Monthly Meeting.  Antoinette did her part as well.  When the women members staged a bazaar--a popular fund-raising method--in December 1874 The New York Times said it "promises to be a decided success.  The display of novelties is rich and varied,  and the prices charged remarkably low."  Among the ladies "presiding at tables" was Antoinette.

The Randolphs rubbed shoulders with some of Manhattan's social elite.  On December 30, 1881 The New York Times reported on Mrs. Vanderbilt's first reception since the death of the Commodore.  Among the 1,000 invitees were any number of Vanderbilts, as well as names like Schieffelin, Ostrander, Kennedy, Townsend and Pratt.  Included in the list was Antoinette Randolph.

The multi-colored fishscale shingles survive on the mansard.

The opening of the transcontinental railroad sparked a new tourist industry.  By the last decades of the 19th century  wealthy families booked tickets with "excursion" companies which provided sightseeing trips to America's now-accessible beauties.  In May 1890 the Randolphs left New York on a train full of other moneyed couples to see the "picturesque regions of the Rockies and Southern California," as reported in the Los Angeles Herald on  May 11.

The Randolphs were gone from No. 161 by the turn of the century.   It was owned by Clausine M. Benson and his wife Marylouise by 1907.  Clausine had only arrived in America on the steamship Byron on October 21 1903; but the pair was financially comfortable.   Marylouise, for instance was a trustee of the American Museum of Natural History.

The couple seems to have been operated No. 161 as an upscale boarding house when Harry A. Harris lived here.  A graduate of the University of Michigan he had left his position as Chief Draftsman and Power Engineer with the Stromberg-Carlson Telephone Mfg. Co. in 1907 to become Central Office Inspector of the Western Electric Co.  Also living in the house was Harry F. Burgess who had graduated fro Yale University three years earlier.

The following year The Sun reported that Clausine Benson had leased the house to William H. Overacre "for a private dwelling."  How long he remained is unclear; however following Benson's death in May 1918 the house became the property of Mrs. Heloise de Forest Haynes.

Despite modernization, the stone enframement of the entrance was preserved and the original outer double doors are still in place.

Heloise owned the house only until 1921, when she sold it to William B. Hale.  But by then she had converted it to a multi-family dwelling.  Department of Buildings documents restricted it to "not more than two families cooking."

The most celebrated occupant would be the colorful actress and theatrical producer Eva Le Gallienne.    She moved into the house in 1926, the same year she founded the Civic Repertory Theater in the old Theatre Francais on West 14th Street.  A lesbian, Eva did not hide her sexuality and she apparently shared the apartment here with her set designer, Gladys Calthrop.

Eva's Civic Repertory Theater was home to actors like Burgess Meredith, John Garfield and Leona Roberts.  But being accepted in her troupe was not a simple process.  When 19-year old Bette Davis interviewed with her in the fall of 1927, Eva threw down a gauntlet.  She asked Davis questions like "Why should acting students study the movement of animals?"

According to Grace May Carter in her biography, Bette Davis, "She wondered what that had to do with acting. As the famous actress probed and prodded her, Bette felt uncomfortable, defensive, even stupid."  A week later Davis received a rejection letter.  Eva told her that she "was not serious enough in her approach to acting and would not be admitted."

While few of the original interior details remain, this 1868 Italianate mantel survives.  photo via Douglas Elliman Real Estate

In 1947 No. 161 was converted to a triplex apartment in the lower floors, two apartments on the third floor and one on top.  Sadly, at some point the carved cornices of the windows were shaved flat, and the Italianate stoop railings were replaced.   Despite the losses, the house still exudes the elegance of the 1860's when the Randolph family filled it with expensive furnishings and art.

photographs by the author

The Wm. H. Gray House -- No. 258 W. 4th Street

Stripped of its carved decorative details, the house still commands a presence.

William Herman Gray’s parents had much to be proud of in their son.  In 1843, at the age of 13, he began work in the hardware business, earning $50 a year (luckily for William he still lived at home—his salary would equal about $32 a week today).    But, according to a later chronicler, “by perseverance and ability he had his salary advanced until he received $1,200 a year.”

Gray’s father was a Scottish immigrant and his mother was of Dutch descent.  The thrifty boy saved enough money to buy them a house on Barrow Street in Greenwich Village.   Then, in 1859, he purchased a small carriage shop at 27 Wooster Street from Major Thompson.    Typical of Gray’s industrious nature, his carriage business grew and prospered until he would eventually erect a large building across the street at Nos. 20 and 22 Wooster.  The Hub would later say that here “he conducted one of the largest establishments of its kind in the city, through which, and by judicious investments in real estate, he amassed a handsome fortune.”

In 1858 Gray married Eliza, the youngest daughter of another popular carriage builder Solomon Banta.   The couple would have four children—three daughters and a son.  

In 1866, with the Civil War over for nearly a year, not only would Gray’s carriage business have increased; but the construction workers who had marched off to the South had returned.  That year William H. Gray contracted architect William Naugle to design a fashionable new home for the family.  The block of West 4^th Street between Perry and Charles Streets was already home to merchant class families.  But the Gray house would stand out.

Naugle introduced the newly-fashionable French Second Empire style to the block.   Slightly wider than its neighbors, the brownstone-fronted home rose three stories—including the stylish mansard roof—above a deep English basement.    The Gray family announced their presence on the block with an up-to-the-minute mini-mansion.

photograph from The Hub, June 1893 (copyright expired)

William Gray filled the house with art.  According to The Hub in 1893, “He was something of an art collector, and took great pride in his fine collection of paintings.”  The carriage trade journal added “In his domestic life he was eminently happy, and although a member of a number of clubs and associations, he enjoyed best his home and family.”

\

The carefully-paneled sides of the entrance match exactly the panels of the doors.

Perhaps because of his own scant formal education, Gray was intensely interested in the school system.   He served as a School Commissioner for decades and was a trustee of the College of the City of New York.  It was of little surprise when, in 1878, William Henry Gray, Jr. enrolled for his first year at the City College.

Just four years after moving in, 31-year old Eliza Jane Gray died on Sunday, the 25^th of September, 1870.  Two days later at noon her funeral was held in the West 4^th Street house.  William’s aging and widowed mother, Helen Maria Taylor Gray, came to live with the family on West 4^th Street.

By now William Gray was investing heavily in real estate.  On December 12, 1874, for instance, the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide announced that he was “building a five-story brick tenement at 458 W. 18^th Street” designed by architect J. J. Howard.

Eight years after Eliza’s death, William married the widow of Thomas Fitzgerald Campbell.   The high esteem in which her well-known father, John Boyd, was held resulted in the name of their only child, John Boyd Gray, born in 1880.

The joy of the baby’s birth was tempered by another funeral in the house that same year.  William’s 84-year old mother died here on Saturday morning, May 1.  The funeral took place at 2:00 two days later.

Gray asserted his selection to be the largest in New York City -- New-York Tribune, June 10, 1888 (copyright expired)

Gray’s carriage business offered hundreds of vehicles.  The Sun, on November 4, 1889 said “Mr. William H. Gray of 20-22 Wooster street has a great many real English surreys and landaus on hand.  He also has a long line of American-built goods after English patterns.  If you are looking for a good and stylish carriage, and do not wish to spend very much money for it, it will always be worth your while to visit Mr. Gray’s warehouse before making your purchase.”

The newspaper explained that along with the new models, Gray offered reconditioned vehicles.  Its Victorian endorsement smacked of a 21^st century used-car advertisement.

“Mr. Gray has on hand nearly 700 second-hand carriages which have been used but little, and so fixed up as to be undistinguishable from new ones.  Mr. Gray bought these in small lots at ridiculously low figures, and is able to sell them at corresponding low prices.”

By the time of William Herman Gray’s death in 1893, the family had moved to No. 210 West 72^nd Street.   The carriage business passed to his son, William Jr., who drove the thriving firm into bankruptcy in 1898.

As was the case with many of the large private homes at the turn of the century, the Gray residence was converted to a boarding house.  In 1919 it was owned by Mrs. P. A. Walsh who leased apartments in the building.

Throughout the rest of the century the once-upscale home saw the comings and goings of apartment renters.  At some point, most likely at mid-century, the carved brownstone lintels and the doorway enframement were shaved off in an attempt to modernize its appearance.

An eye-catching caramel-colored marble mantel survives in an otherwise stripped room, once hung with Wm. Gray's extensive art collection.  http://www.corcoran.com/nyc/Listings/Display/2315762

Still divided into apartments, there is little left of the 1866 interiors.  Although some elements, like the fishscale tiles on the mansard and the paneled faschia board below the cornice, survive; the house suffers neglect and decay.   Nevertheless, it is a striking example of the development of Greenwich Village in the first years after the Civil War.

no-credited photographs taken by the author