The Byam K. Stevens House - 11 East 78th Street

Henry H. Cook made his fortune in railroads and banking.  When he began planning his enormous mansion in 1880 at the north corner of Fifth Avenue and 78th Street he took additional steps to ensure the exclusivity his neighborhood.  Cook purchased the entire block from Fifth Avenue to Madison Avenue, between 78th and 79th Streets for $500,000 (just over $12.5 million today).  He then attached stringent restrictive covenants to the plots: no structure other than a private home designed in a "splendid style" could be built on what became known as the Cook Block. 

It would be several years before the general northern migration of moneyed New Yorkers caught up with Cook; but one-by-one he sold off the properties and on June 2, 1899 he sold the vacant lot at No. 11 East 78th Street to Byam Kerby Stevens and his wife, the former Elizabeth Langdon Wilks.   The high-end tenor of the Cook Block was reflected in the price--about $1.75 million in today's money.

As was commonplace, title to the property was put in Elizabeth's name.  By the end of summer the couple had hired the respected architectural firm of Clinton & Russell to design a residence on the 25-foot wide plot.  

Completed in 1900, the four story structure was faced in limestone.  The days of Beaux Arts confections were quickly passing and Clinton & Russell focused instead on stately refinement, creating a subdued Italian Renaissance townhouse.  

The rusticated parlor level sat above a low stone stoop.  The arched entrance, which featured carved spandrel panels and an exquisite iron grill within the fanlight, sat within a high portico supported by fluted columns with Scamozzi capitals.  Blind balustrades below the parlor windows gave the visual impression of added height.

The sparse decoration of the planar-faced upper floors relied entirely on window treatment.  The openings of the second floor wore Renaissance arched pediments, the third floor molded cornices, and the fourth eared surrounds.  A stone balustrade ran along the top of the bracketed cornice.

Both Byam and Eliza had impressive pedigrees.  He was the grandson of Major General Ebenezer Stevens, who had been in charge of the defenses of New York City during the War of 1812.  His maternal grandfather was Albert Gallatin, Secretary of the Treasury and Ambassador to the Court of St. James and to France.  Byam Kerby Stevens, Sr., his father, was a prominent banker.

Eliza was the daughter of Matthew and Eliza Langdon Wilks and a great-granddaughter of John Jacob Astor.  She had been educated in Europe.

Like his father, Stevens made his fortune in finance.  He had been a member of the Gold Board of New York, the precursor of the Stock Exchange, and held a seat on the Exchange from its inception until his retirement in 1883 when he devoted his time to real estate.   

As with all wealthy figures in society, the newspapers followed the Stevens' movements.  Although they maintained a summer estate, Sunnyhome, in Lenox, Massachusetts, they frequently traveled to fashionable resorts and abroad.

On August 7, 1908, for instance, The Evening Telegram advised "Mr. and Mrs. Byam K. Stevens, of No. 11 East Seventy-eighth street are at present in Cheltenham, a watering place in Goucestershire, England, where they intend to remain for several weeks."

A decade after moving in the Stevens updated the house.  The plans filed by their architect, Paul Schleich, called for a new skylight and windows, and "partitions," suggesting that the floor plan was slightly adjusted here and there.

Byam and Eliza were active in both social clubs and philanthropic work.  Byam held memberships in the Metropolitan, Union, and Knickerbocker Clubs, as well as the Sons of the Revolution.  He was particularly interested in charitable hospitals and was an administrator of the Episcopal Orphan Asylum.  Eliza was a member of the Colony and York Clubs in Manhattan and the Lenox Club.

In November 1911 Byam K. Stevens became ill and two weeks later, on December 12, he died in the house at the age of 75.  His funeral was held in Grace Church two days later.  The New-York Tribune later reported that "his wife was the largest beneficiary" of his estate, valued at the equivalent of $24 million today.

Eliza stayed on in the house and she continued her husband's work within his favorite charity.  She served as First Directress of the Orphan's Home and Asylum of the Protestant Episcopal Church in New York.  The orphanage accepted orphans and “half-orphans” from 3- to 8-years-old (unless they had “incurable diseases” or were “physically imperfect”).

Each year society columns reported on Eliza's closing of the townhouse and opening Sunnyhome; then closing that residence and opening No. 11.  But a world war changed the routine for one season.

On January 27, 1918 The New York Times reported that Eliza had leased "an apartment comprising an entire floor at 927 Fifth Avenue."  She paid $11,500 for the one-year lease.  By living elsewhere she was able to offer her 78th Street house "for the use of the Red Cross."

Back at home following the war, Eliza continued her philanthropic works.  On January 30, 1925, for instance, The New York Telegram and Evening Mail reported on Bishop William T. Manning's continuing efforts to raise money for the erection of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine.  The article noted "The Bishop's mail yielded a check for $5,000 from Elisha S. W. [sic] Stevens, No. 11 East Seventy-eighth street."

Despite her advancing age, Eliza continued her routine.  Then, without warning, she died at Sunnyhome on May 31, 1930.  The New York Times noted "She had been motoring yesterday."

The following year, in April, a succinct advertisement appeared in The New York Sun:  "For Sale--11 East 78th Street--To Settle an Estate."  It became home to Eugene L. Wilker.  Following his death it was sold in May 1941 to Edward K. Bachman, who was living at No. 52 Gramercy Park at the time.  But the end of the line for No. 11 as private home was on the not too distant horizon.

On July 11, 1947, The New York Times reported that No. 11 East 78^th Street had been sold “for altering into small apartments.”   The renovation, completed the following year, resulted in three apartments on each floor.  While the facade was preserved, the owners committed architectural sacrilege by removing half of the rooftop balustrade and installing a penthouse apartment, the design of which was as pleasing as a World War II bunker.  

Scandal visited the house in August 1952.  The living arrangements of 23-year old tenants Pat Thompson (described by The New York Times as “a tall blonde”), and 39-year old Richard Short got them arrested.  

Short was a motion picture actor, working mostly as an extra under the professional name Richard Wallace.  But he had another, less respectable, source of income.

Assistant District Attorney Burton B. Roberts charged that Short lived with the young woman “on a commercial basis and an arrangement of convenience, where, in exchange for love and affection from him, she gave him at least $300 weekly.”   The money he received for the companionship and sex he provided was most likely more than he got from his acting--it would equal more than $2,800 a week today.

Richard Short was held on $25,000 bail on charges of prostitution and Pat Thompson was jailed, unable to pay her bail.

A much less controversial resident at the time was Margaret Lowengrund Lilly, an artist and lithographer known professionally as Margaret Lowengrund.  Her works were widely exhibited.  During the 1920's she had taken a position as artist with the London Daily Express and, upon returning to the United States, illustrated the popular "Sketches About Town" column in the New York Evening Post.  She died in her apartment here at the age of 55 in 1957.

The house became home to playwright David Rimmer and his wife, Ellen, in 1980.  That year he wrote the Pulitzer Prize nominated play Album, which ran for a year in the Cherry Lane Theater.  The New York City and Chicago productions of Album introduced audiences to new actors like Kevin Bacon, Sam Robards, Alan Ruck, Jennifer Gray, and Megan Mullally.

While living here Rimmer wrote Yankee Wives, a comedy about six women married to professional baseball players.  It was performed at the Old Globe Theater Main Stage in San Diego.  His play New York dealt with the aftermath of 9/11.  David Rimmer was still living here in 2017 when he died at the age of 67.

Desecrating the upper portions of magnificent mansions was somewhat of a trend on the block.

Other than the woeful rooftop vandalism, the Stevens house survives little changed from the days when only "splendid style" residences could be erected on the block.

photographs by the author

The Catherine - 1 West 89th Street

Among the most significant and influential late 19th century architects working on the developing Upper West Side was Clarence True.  Eventually responsible for scores of structures in the district, his penchant for working in historic styles--sometimes in playful combination--helped shape the architectural personality of the Upper West Side.  

In 1899 True was hired by developers Eppenstein & Mathews to design an upscale apartment building on the northwest corner of Central Park West and 89th Street.  For this project the architect looked back to Renaissance England and the Jacobean style.

Completed the following year, the seven-story structure was faced in red brick and heavily trimmed in contrasting limestone.  Alternating bands of stone and brick at the corners produced a striped effect.  The entrance, with its hefty sandstone Gibbs surround, sat on the quieter 89th Street.  At the sixth and seventh floors True used terra cotta to execute Corinthian pilasters and ornate spandrel panels.  Elaborate pediments above the corner and end windows of the top floor suggested scalloped dormers.

An advertisement in the New York Herald on September 13, 1903 read "The Catherine, 1 West 89th st, 6 and 7 rooms and bath.  Fireproof.  Elect. light included."  The six-room apartments rented for $1,000 a year and the larger units for $1,300.   That would translate to about $3,200 per month for the seven-room apartment today.

The residents, like the Daemker family, who moved into the Catherine were well-to-do, and summered away from the city.  On April 10, 1903 the Republican Watchman noted "Mrs. Mary Daemker, of No. 1 West 89th St., New York, has rented the cottage of Benj. Lewis at Kiameshia Lake for the summer.  Price $400."

Another tenant seems to have been leaving for the winter that year, possibly going abroad.  That family sought to sub-let their apartment with an ad on September 5, 1903:  "Corner apartment, six rooms, bath, elevator, electric light, telephone, piano, silver, linen, china."

Among the respected residents was Dr. Schuyler Clinton Jacques, a physician with the Metropolitan Hospital.  He had married the widowed Alice Ann Clemmons in March 1902, just before moving in.   

On Saturday morning, January 20, 1906 Jacques was aroused by an urgent knock on his door.  A 44-year old widow and invalid, Mrs. Henrietta Freeman, had thrown herself from her sixth floor window in the newly-completed St. Urban Apartments across the street.  But when the doctor got to the building's courtyard the woman was dead.

Working as a servant in the Jacques apartment at the time was Caroline Morris.  She quit working for the couple later that year and then devised a vicious scheme to make up for the lost income.  Posing as Dr. Jacques's former secretary, she filed suit for $150 in back pay; saying she left his employ after he failed to paid her.

According to her well-concocted story, she had been ill in St. Luke's Hospital and was attended to by Jacques.  She claimed that before her sickness she had been a sculptor's model "and had posed for 'The Dancing Girl' by Paul Mocquet.'"  Then, after she recovered, Jacques persuaded her to become his secretary.  After working for him for three months and, not being paid, she left.

The suit apparently was not moving quickly enough for Caroline Morris, and so she stoked the fire on October 22 by rushing up to a policeman and complaining that the doctor was stalking her and she wanted him arrested.  That worked.

The following day The Sun reported "A girl with flowing hair and flashing eyes bounded into the Jefferson Market police court yesterday afternoon followed by a no-less excited and indignant man, who was in the custody of a policeman."

Caroline told the judge "Since I started this suit, in fact ever since I left this man's office, he has been following me about and annoying me.  Twice today he followed me, watching until I left my home and annoying me all the time until I got back again.  At last I grew desperate and asked a policeman to arrest him."

Dr. Jacques had something to say, himself.  "Why, she worked as a domestic in my house.  I never saw her in a hospital.  This is all a trick of hers to help out the civil suit which she is bringing against me."

The judge dismissed the case and everyone went home.


Caroline Morris's story may have been inspired by the actual events which led to the romance and marriage of Schuyler and Alice.  An Englishwoman, Alice had come to America in 1900 and got a nursing job.  The couple met when she was the nurse to one of Jacques's patients.

The New York Times explained, "Later she was taken ill with scarlet fever; he attended her, fell in love, and they were married."  It was a charming love story that would have an unhappy ending.

In 1907 the doctor's brother, attorney McClure Jacques, was traveling abroad.  He sat next to an English Army officer on a train and the two struck up a conversation.  When the topic turned to the Southampton district of England, McClure mentioned that his brother was married to a Southampton widow, Mrs. Joseph George Clemmons.  Shockingly, the officer replied that he knew Joseph Clemmons very well.  And he was quite alive.

The news understandably caused no lack of domestic disturbance in the Jacques household.  Alice insisted that her husband was dead.  The doctor sent her off to England to unravel the mystery.  However when she returned, according to him, "she refused to give him any information on the subject."

In August 1909 he filed suit to have the marriage annulled.  Interestingly, he neither left the Catherine, nor did he ask Alice to do so.  On August 12 The New York Times explained "Dr. Jacques and his wife are still living in the same apartment, but when seen last night she said her husband was at home very little and did not take his meals there."  She insisted to the reporter that she had been told Joseph Clemmons was dead.

Jacques's decision that the couple still technically live together seems to have been well played.  While a hearing was pending, Alice filed her own action, seeking alimony.  Her affidavit listed her husband's annual income at $712,000 in today's money.

In court on August 13 her lawyer explained "My client is now living in the same house with him and he is furnishing her with food and clothing, but nothing else."  The judge wondered what, then, she needed the alimony for.

"For carfare and many other things that a woman desires."

"She wants pin money, then," said the judge.

It did not go well for Alice.  The court ruled that "a woman living in the same house with her husband is not entitled to alimony."

In 1918 the family of Mordecai M. Kaplan moved into the Catherine.  The rabbi had been an instructor at the Jewish Theological Seminary since 1909.  At the time that the family arrived at the Catherine, he was little known outside of the Seminary community.  That would all begin to change in 1922 when he founded the Society for the Advancement of Judaism, redefining Judaism as a "civilization" and embracing the culture of Judaism beyond religious beliefs.  Years later The New York Times would call him "a towering figure in the recent history of Judaism."

Financier W. C. Boschen took on an unexpected hobby around the time the Kaplan family moved in--big-game fishing.  Every summer, while other residents were traveling to their country homes or fashionable resorts, Boschen went to the West Coast to fish.  He made headlines nationwide in August 1913.

A special dispatch to The New York Herald from Avalon, California reported  "W. C. Boschen of New York, has been the happiest fisherman in this neighborhood ever since last Saturday, when he made the record catch of what is considered the only true swordfish ever landed with rod and reel, and certainly the first 'broadbill' ever caught in these waters."

Boschen's catch weighed in at 335 pounds.  It took him an hour and a half to battle the swordfish into submission.  In the end, it was not only the fish that was hooked, it was the fisherman.  Big-game fishing became the banker's obsession.

He made national news again in September 1917 when he reeled in another record swordfish.  This time the fight lasted two and a half hours but the reward was worth it.  Boschen's fish was 463 pounds.  For his record-breaking catch, he received valuable award from the Tuna Club of California.  The Sun described it as "an exquisite masterpiece of the jeweler's art, a swordfish in beaten silver accompanied by rod, real and gaff, and the whole mounted upon an oaken panel.

Boschen's record catch was postcard-worthy.  The well-heeled angler apparently fished in suit and bow-tie.  The more casually dressed man is presumably George C. Farnsworth.

The following year, of course, Boschen was back.  On October 18, 1918 The Sun reported that "The returns of the annual summer tournament of the Tuna Club are all in, and W. C. Boschen of 1 West Eighty-ninth street, New York city, leads all anglers in the number of tuna taken, ninety-nine."

It would be the last visit to California for Boschen, at least alive.  On one of the first trips out that season, Boschen had divulged to his close friend and fishing companion, Captain George C. Farnsworth of Avalon, California, that he had a serious medical condition; what seems to have been cancer.

Farnsworth later recalled "That day he told me about the operation he expected to have performed in November, and said that his doctors told him he could have one more year to fish.  So he took the last new months, and let his chance for life wait until the angling season closed."

Shortly after he returned to New York the operation was performed.  He died on November 15, 1918.  His large estate included "many tracts of land in Beaufort county, North Carolina," according to The Sun.  His will left generous bequests to the Presbyterian Hospital, a trust fund of $100,000 to his widow (about $1.67 million today), and another of $40,000 to his son to be held until he reached the age of 35.  To George C. Farnsworth he left $25,000.

The will included specific instructions regarding the disposal of his remains.  Boschel wished to be cremated, his ashes sent to Farnsworth, and that "they be thrown into San Pedro Channel, between Catalina Island and San Pedro, California."

The following year, on November 1, 1919, the Syracuse, New York Daily Journal reported "The ashes of W C. Boschen, New York, financier and 'king of swordfishermen,' floated on the waters of Catalina channel to-day."  It had been, apparently, an emotional chore for Captain Farnsworth.  Boschen's former fishing companion was alone in the boat which the two had used for years.  He followed the exact route they always fished, and then 12 miles out to sea he opened his lunchbox, and set out a lunch for two as had always been their habit.  "Farnsworth ate alone, and then scattered on the waves the ashes of his friend."

For years Helen W. Watts had lived in the building.  The widow of George B. Watts, her six daughters and one son were all grown.  Since 1863 she had been the head of the American Female Guardian Society.   The commendable organization, founded in 1834, addressed the plight of single mothers and prostitutes.  Women who became pregnant while not married suffered serious censure, branded as "fallen women."   Helen had been the head of the group for 56 years when she died in her apartment here at the age of 76 in May 1919.

Professor Otto Koenig and his wife, the former Margarette D. Purington, were living in the building by 1922.  (By now it had lost its name and was known only by the address of 1 West 89th Street.)  Since 1904 Koenig had been head of Sachs Collegiate Institute, founded around 1872 by Dr. Julius Sachs.  The private academy, which prepared boys for college, was conveniently close, at No 18 West 89th Street.

In 1913 Koenig came up with an innovative plan.  He purchased the former McAvoy farm on Grindstone Island, in the Thousand Islands upstate, and erected Camp Koenig, a summer school for boys.  The Thousand Island Sun later explained "Colony houses were constructed, a huge dock was built and the farm house made ready for dining and assembly hall."

Koenig hired Columbia University graduates as counselors "and a rigid schedule in academics mixed with sports, games and other forms of relations" was compiled, according to the article.  "Enrolled here were sons of the wealthy representing some of the greatest men on Wall street, in foremost American industries and the select few in aristocratic social life...Dr. Koenig built up an enviable reputation for himself and Mrs. Koenig."

The enrollment for the summer camp was significant.  On July 16, 1922 the New-York Tribune noted "Dr Otto Koenig, accompanied by sixty-eight boys and six teachers, has arrived at Camp Koenig on Grindstone Island."

While Koenig continued to run the Manhattan school, he gave up the camp following the summer session of 1923.  He and Margarette sold the property for $12,000.  The new owners announced it would be enlarged and improved.  Part of the deal was that the name Camp Koenig would remain for no fewer than eight years.

The advent of the Great Depression does not seem to have noticeably affected No. 1 West 89th Street.  An advertisement on August 22, 1934 offered "Exceptional view, large sunny rooms" of seven and eight rooms with two baths.  The rent was between $1,300 and $2,000; or about $3,125 per month for the more expensive unit today.

The Koenigs were still living here when they went to California for the winter season of 1949-50.  They were at Palo Alto on Sunday night, February 12, 1950 when Margarette suffered a fatal heart attack.  She was 73 years old.  

Apartment buildings on Central Park West did not suffer the humiliation experienced by similar buildings elsewhere in the city during the latter part of the 20th century.  The apartments at No. 1 West 89th Street were not broken up and the tenant list remained upscale.

There was one significant change, however, completed in 1988.  By now the private academy formerly run by Dr. Otto Koenig had been become the Dwight School.  An entrance was carved into the Central Park West elevation and the first floor of the building converted to a school for for academy.  A subsequent alteration in 2002 enlarged the school into the second floor.

Clarence True's Victorian, Jacobean Revival apartment house looks a bit out of place among Central Park West's soaring Art Deco buildings.  But its jubilant red-and-white charm is in many ways a delightful exception.

photographs by the author

The Wool Exchange [American Thread] Building - 260 West Broadway

The Tariff Act of 1890 promised to significantly affect the importation of wool and wool products from Europe.  The changes would affect Manhattan wool brokers and merchants.  In consequence, Allan Macnaughtan rallied them to form a Wool Exchange.  The Evening World explained, "As imports will be large under the wool clause of the Tariff bill it is proposed to transact business by sample at the exchange."  The concept was heartily embraced and the Wool Exchange was formed.

Macnaughtan, however, had additional motives.  While the founding of the Wool Exchange was a solid and laudable move; Allan Macnaughtan saw personal opportunities in it.  Backing the construction of a headquarters structure was the Tradesmen's National Bank, the president of which, not coincidentally, was Macnaughtan's brother, Allan.  More importantly, together they formed the Wool Warehouse Company, intended to store the goods of the Wool Exchange members within the Exchange building, for a price.

The property for the Wool Exchange building was initially purchased by the Wool Warehouse Company, using advances from the Tradesmen's National Bank endorsed by Allan Macnaughtan.   On April 1, 1893 three four-story brick buildings were purchased on West Broadway; and the site was completed in February the following year with a three-story wooden store on West Broadway and a three-story brick building on St. John's Lane.  The site sat on the curve where Beach Street morphed into West Broadway.

Architect William Bunker Tubby filed plans on July 1894 for an 11-story brick structure to cost $275,000.  That amount would quickly rise.  The following month, on August 22, The Evening World announced "New Wool Exchange Building" and reported "The wool dealers of the city are anxious to get into their new exchange building, which is in course of erection at 144 and 150 West Broadway and which is to cost $500,000."  That would be more than $15 million today.  (West Broadway was renumbered in 1897, giving it the building the address of 260.)

Tubby's office released this rendering in 1895.  History of the Portland Cement Industry in the United States, 1895 (copyright expired)

Completed late in 1895, William Tubby's reserved Renaissance Revival design drew praise nationwide.  The Engineering Magazine called it "a strong, plain design, admirably in keeping with the character of the structure."  And the New-York Daily Tribune said "The building itself is a triumph of architectural art."  

Tubby had gently contoured the facade along the Beach Street-West Broadway curve.  The three-story base featured alternating stone and brick bands which became bold voussoirs above the arched openings--feeling more Moorish than Renaissance.  But the entrance stole the show at this level.  The architect took full advantage of the corner site to create drama.  The entrance sat deep within a two-story vestibule.  From below its polished granite columns a staircase cascaded to the sidewalk. 

Building Age explained that the building included "an immense storage warehouse for wool, a bank that will be primarily connected with wool and woolen interests, the Wool Exchange, a members' club and a large number of offices...The Wool Exchange and the bank will occupy the first floor, while the club will use the top floor, which has an area of 12,000 square feet."  That bank, of course, was the Trademen's National Bank.

The Wool Club had been formed in 1894, soon after the organization of the Wool Exchange.  Its purpose was "to promote social intercourse between men engaged in the wool business and to centralize the trade in this city."  (Boston was the center of the wool trade at the time.)  Its president was none other than the Mayor of New York, William L. Strong.  On January 5, 1896 The Sun reported on the club's opening.  "Nearly 400 merchants, prominent in the wool and dry goods trade, visited the club while the reception was going on."   

At the time of the opening there were 300 members, who enjoyed luxurious surroundings.  "The club rooms are divided into a large dining room, finished in ivory white and red, two private dining rooms, and a ladies' dining room."  

The Sun chimed in, saying that the club's office was paneled in black walnut and "At one end is an immense open fireplace, and in the centre are files and a richly carved reading table.  The windows are of stained glass, and each is a reproduction of an old English book mark."  There was a women's reception room and women's dining room, both of which were "richly frescoed and carpeted with rugs."

The Wool Club's cafe was 30 feet across and its domed ceiling 19 feet high.  The Sun remarked "The culinary and other arrangements of the club are excellent."

From the beginning several of the tenants in the Wool Exchange Building were a bit shady.  Not the least of which was William E. Valentine whose Standard Coal and Oil Company offices were here.

On November 12, 1896 The Sun reported that he had appeared in court to answer to two charges, "one of forgery in the second degree and the other of assaulting and abducting May Wintage."  While that was playing out, the vendors who had carpeted and furnished his office had not been paid.  The article added that Deputy Sheriff Butler had seized the "desks and office furniture" as well as the carpets.

The next day the newspaper reported on two more arrests, Mr. and Mrs. C. R. McLaughlin.  Detectives told reporters they "are connected with the Valentine gang of swindlers."  McLaughlin, whose real name was Charles Waldring, was the manager of the Standard Coal and Wood Company.  And Mrs. McLaughlin was in fact Daisy Hampton, and not his wife.  The pair had been on the run for more than a year for purchasing expensive items and paying for them with phony checks.

William Newburg's brokerage office was in the building at the same time.  He, too, found himself behind bars that year.  He and an acquaintance, Walter Holinghausen, borrowed $1,000 from a money lender, Joseph H. Roberts.  It was a considerable sum, equaling nearly $31,000 today.  Holinghausen purported to be a liquor dealer, and as security the men gave Roberts a warehouse receipt for eight barrels of whiskey.  But the barrels were filled with water.  

The pair apparently had assumed Roberts would not be poking into the barrels.  They were arrested on November 13, 1896.  And it appeared this was not the only time they pulled the scam.  The Sun reported "complaints involving $5,000 may be formulated."

By now Allan Macnaughton was president of the Wool Exchange.  In February 1897 his bank transferred title to the property to the Wool Exchange, including the $600,000 outstanding mortgage which apparently covered the cost of the site as well.

A long term tenant would be the Master Steam and Hot Water Fitters' Association, which initially took space on the ninth floor in 1897.  Its offices would be the scene of union negotiations for years.  Among the first, in April that year, centered around the 25 cent raise the workers demanded.  Steamfitters earned $3.50 a day at the time and their helpers $2.

While the Wool Exchange was doing well, the Macnaughtan brothers were not.  Their scheme relied almost solely on the success of the Wool Warehouse Company, but it failed in 1898.  That resulted in the failure of the Tradesmen's National Bank.  The brothers each filed for personal bankruptcy in November 1898.

In reporting on the developments The United States Investor, on November 19, was brutal.  It called the brothers' reputations "certainly not the creme de la creme of straightforward and reliable business men" and that "no one in the wool trade of financial circles had a good word to say for them."  

Things did not look good for the brothers.  On October 7 The New York Times had reported that the bank examiner had made "the unequivocal statement that the Macnaughtans were responsible for the closing of the bank."

Both men appeared in a downtown office on January 12, 1899 to be questioned about the failure of the Tradesmen's National Bank.  When the procedures were adjourned for lunch at noon, United States marshals moved in and arrested the brothers.  The Times said it "was unexpected by the Macnaughtan brothers and some others in the room [and] it created a considerable sensation."  They were charged with bank fraud.

The Exchange charged $2 to see the fireworks display in honor of Admiral George Dewey in September 1899.  The Sun, September 24, 1899 (copyright expired)

In the meantime, things went on essentially as normal in the Wool Exchange Building.   In 1898 three floors were leased to the American Thread Company; and the banking level became home to the newly-formed National Securities Bank in June 1900.

At the time The Merchants' Safe Deposit Company occupied the basement.  On March 11 that year the New-York Daily Tribune noted as well, "Other tenants of the building are wool merchants, wool brokers, wholesale drygoods dealers, wholesale glass firms, lace houses, wholesale grocers and other kindred trades."

In April 1901 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide announced that the American Thread Company had purchased the Wool Exchange Building for $700,000 (about $21.3 million today).  The New York Times reminded readers that the American Thread Company currently occupied three floors and that "The Wool Club has elaborately fitted up rooms on one of the upper floors, and part of the street floor is occupied as a Post Office sub-station."

Despite the change in ownership, the Wool Exchange remained in its headquarters and the building would be referred to as the Wool Exchange Building for years to come.  Among the new tenants in 1903 was the New-England National Automatic Fire Alarm Company.  

On August 25, 1903 the building next door at No. 268 West Broadway caught fire.  It was occupied primarily by whiskey distillers P. W. Engs & Son, resulting in a massive blaze and explosions.  Firefighters took advantage of the Wool Exchange Building's height (four stories higher than No. 268) and its advanced engineering.  The New-York Tribune reported "The firemen entered the Wool Exchange Building and, attaching hose to the standpipes which are on every floor, fought the flames from these vantage points."

On the third floor of No. 260 in 1905 was the office of "Wintersmith, Broker," as stenciled on the glass of the door.  Police were not so certain that it was truly stocks being traded inside.  On May 30 The Sun reported that "Captain Eggers made an ax raid yesterday afternoon on an alleged poolroom and poolroom telephone exchange."  (A "poolroom" was an illegal horse betting operation.)  

"Eggers and his men smashed in the door and found ten men huddled together.  One of the men attempted to conceal some racing sheets inside his trousers and objected to being searched.  He resisted stoutly until Eggers landed a short hook on the end of his nose, when he gave up both the papers and some blood."

The ten men were herded out of the office, and 25 telephones and a switchboard were seized.  Eggers told reporters that by ripping out the switchboard he had probably taken 20 other poolrooms out of business.

In an unexpected twist, on August 5 the Greenpoint Weekly Star reported that the principal of Wintersmith & Co., Lawrence Stevens, had filed a $5,000 suit against Police Commissioner McAdoo and Captain Eggart, "charging them with illegally raiding his place of business."  Stevens complained that the police "without warrant but with much force took possession of his premises, ripped out and carried away his telephone and much of the material for the conduct of his business."

Joining the tenant list were the newly-formed Fitch Manufacturing Company, "makers of eiderdowns," the National Dress Goods Co., here by 1907; and at around the same time the American Window Glass Company moved in.

By 1912 the banking rooms were home to the Greenwich Bank, as evidenced in the lettering above the doorway.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In 1917, after being in the building for a quarter of a century, the Steam and Hot Water Fitters' Association moved to new quarters.  Taking advantage of the patriotism sparked by World War I was the U. S. Army & Navy Tablet Co., which moved in that year.  Despite the implications of its name, the firm had nothing to do with the United States military.  Its advertisements promised "One or two doses will make you feel ten years younger.  Best known remedy for Constipation, Sour Stomach and Dyspepsia."

The Grosser Knitting Machine Co. was leasing space by then, as was the Hubbard Oven Company.  The Wool Exchange was still here, as was the Wool Club.  Its rooms were annually used the by New York and New Jersey Cricket Association for its yearly meetings.

The American Thread Company operated a sizable plant in Willimantic, Connecticut.  As was common with large factories the firm supplied company houses to its workers at discounted rents.  

The hundreds of factory employees were shocked in January 1925 when American Thread made an across-the-board wage cut.  The union ordered a strike.  On April 11, 1925 management representatives walked out of an arbitration meeting.  Speaking for the Board of Directors, Don H. Curtis said it "could not consider restoration of the wage cut or any part of it."  The firm's stubborn stance resulted little-by-little in desperate workers returning to work.  By the beginning of summer 700 had returned and American Thread Company had lost patience with the 35 holdouts.

On July 16 The New York Times reported "Eviction of tenants of houses belonging to the American Thread Company who were former employees and are now among the strikers was carried out today."  The court had given notice on June 10 and now deputy sheriffs arrived to "put out" those who remained.

In 1928 the Sixth Avenue elevated ran up West Broadway.  The bronze lettering American Thread Company surmounts the entrance.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The Wool Club was still here on March 3, 1941 when it received its liquor license "for on premises consumption."  At the time chemical dealers Whittaker, Clark & Daniels, Inc. had been here a decade and would remain at least through 1955.  The 1940's also saw the headquarters of the AFL Union and the American Drug Company in the building.

In 1965 American Thread Company moved to No. 90 Park Avenue.  It was a marked change for the former Wool Exchange Building.  Department of Buildings records listed a paint store in the former bank space, a lamp showroom on the second floor, and "third and fourth to be kept vacant."

Other tenants included the KikkoMan soy sauce company; Albert Products, Inc., distributors of Wool-Soft fabric cleaner; and by 1970 the offices of the Archaeological Institute of America.

The Institute published the American Journal of Archaeology and Archaeology, A Magazine Dealing with the Antiquity of the World here.  The group also sponsored exotic tours.  In the spring of 1971 it offered a 32-day tour of cave paintings in France and Spring, and in April 1974 a three-week visit to Iran and Afghanistan.

It and the other tenants would have to find new homes soon.  On August 25, 1977 Laurie Johnston, writing in The New York Times remarked that the neighborhood was taking on a Soho-like personality.  Advising that "Tribeca" was "the unofficial name for the Triangle Below Canal Street (pronounced Try-beeka by logic, Try-becka by custom)," and mentioning high-profile figures in the arts who had recently moved in, she added that the American Thread Building was "among other major Tribeca Buildings being prepared for conversion" to residential.

The renovation, which was completed in 1981, prompted The Times' Paul Goldberger to call the project "probably TriBeCa's finest and most luxurious condominium conversion so far.  It is a more elegant building that many of its neighbors, graciously rounding the curve of the street as West Broadway meets Beach Street."

An advertisement in Christopher Magazine in 1982 touted "There is nothing standard about 260 West Broadway." Indeed, several of the apartments were duplexes.

The upscale building received disturbing press in July 1993.  In 1987 Louis Santos had been hired as a custodian.  Well liked by the residents, he arrived for work as usual at 7:00 on the morning of July 17, 1993 but never reported in.  At 9:20 sanitation workers pulled up to the loading dock at the rear of the building, where they found the 50-year-old's body, with two bullet wounds to the head.  His empty wallet was on the ground next to him.

photograph by Beyond My Ken

The loss of the cornice is highly regrettable.  But overall William B. Tubby's "triumph of architectural art" is greatly intact.

The Lost Salvation Army Building - 120-124 West 14th Street

To the right of the Salvation Army building a sliver of the Harriet Douglas Cruger mansion can be glimpsed.  Architectural Record, August 1896 (copyright expired)

Founded in London in 1865 by William Booth with assistance from his wife, Catherine, the Salvation Army waged "warfare against evil," complete with military-styled uniforms.  Thirteen years after the group first arrived in New York City in 1880, a substantial headquarters building was deemed necessary.   On March 11, 1893 the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that Gilbert A. Schellenger "will furnish plans for a six-story building with stores, which the Salvation Army is going to erect as a memorial to the wife of General Booth, at Nos. 120 to 124 West 14th street."

William Booth lived in England and this project was in the hands of his son, Ballington Booth.  The multi-use structure would contain a street level shop for rental income, a "large auditorium on the second floor," and the offices and headquarters of the Salvation Army.

In mid-June 1894 ground was broken with little fanfare.  But a few days later, on June 27, a staged photo-op was held.  The Evening World reported "[Salvation Army] Soldiers in their bright red shirts, and Salvation Army lassies in suits of blue, each with a pick or shovel, with Mrs. Ballington Booth perched on a dump-cart, decorated with the Stars and Strips and the Army Standard, comprised the principal group.  A number of photographs of the scene was taken."

The newspaper admitted "The actual work of breaking ground for the new building was performed by brawny laborers some days ago.  Today's ceremony was the sentimental end."  

Already the plans had been expanded.  "The new structure will be eight stories high, with towers.  The first two stories will be of Indiana limestone, and the remainder of red brick.  The ground cost $200,000, and the structure will cost $120,000, most of which was raised by contribution of nickles and dimes."

It was undoubtedly no coincidence that William Booth timed his six-month inspection tour of the Salvation Army in America to coincide with the cornerstone laying of the new headquarters.  On August 14, 1894 "The street was crowded with men and women in the uniform of the army, and a salvation brass band added to the enthusiasm," wrote The Sun.  "Time and again the gathering burst into hallelujahs, amens, and cheers."

William and Ballington Booth conceded the honors of laying the stone to Ballington's wife, Maud.  It was inscribed:

Laid by Mrs. Ballington Booth

In Memory of Catherine Booth,

The mother of the Salvation Army

Aug. 14, 1894

Let her own works prevail here.

The total cost of the building had slightly risen by the time of the ceremony.  The Sun reported "It will cost $325,000 including the site."  That amount with be equal to nearly $9.8 million today.

Completed the following year, the headquarters building reflected the military persona of the group with a maw-like centered entrance reminiscent of a fortress or armory.  The uppermost floors resembled a castle, with crenelated towers and lancet openings ready to fend off attack with crossbows.  

The Architectural Record called it simply an "architectural aberration."  But the article did not blame Gilbert A. Schellenger; rather it praised him for giving the Salvation Army what the writer rather viciously deemed was what it deserved.  "The same vulgarity and foolishness that appear in the 'knee drill' and the big drum should appear in the facade of a building devoted to the uses of the Army," it said, dismissing the idea of the Salvation Army as a genuine religious organization.

Unwilling to disguise his contempt for the group, the anonymous critic said it was the architect's duty to reflect his patron in the structure's design.  "As a conscientious artist should he not cause the thing to reek of vulgarity?...Nothing could well be cruder or nosier or more discordant.  It would be hard for anything to exceed it in vulgarity."

The article suggested that the loop-holes in the towers might be "from which the besieged Salvationists must be imagined to pour physical melted lead upon their spiritual besiegers."

The Salvation Army and the Booths seem to have been unruffled by the bad reviews of its new headquarters.  Maud Booth was as popular a speaker as her husband and she filled the auditorium to standing room on Sunday night, September 1, 1895 when she spoke on "The New Woman."

Many Victorian women of the 1890's were testing their independence, no longer content with being subservient to their husbands and the male population at large.  Maud Booth was clear in her opinion of the upstarts.

She said in part "The revolting creature, gaudily attired in man's clothing, possessed of strange notions about the home, wifehood and motherhood, scorned and shunned by the men, is not my idea of the new woman.  The new woman, according to the popular acceptation, speaks of children as 'brats,' says they tire and aggravate her, and so she bestows all her love upon some ugly little pug-nosed dog, which she carries in one of her mannish pockets.  She is also a man hater, and in her going forth to seek emancipation and a world-wide rule for her sex she declares it to be her mission to down and belittle him."

Photographed in 1897, the down-and-out slept overnight in the 14th Street headquarters, under less-than-comfortable conditions.  photo by Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In 1896 Ballington and Maud Booth were stripped of their command by General William Booth, following a serious falling out.  They broke away from the Salvation Army to form the Volunteers of America.  The pair retained the 14th Street building and attempted to convert the Salvationists.  General William Booth, hearing of the mutiny, sent his daughter Evangeline, to rescue the organization from her brother.

On April 8 The Sun explained "It has been evident from the beginning of the revolt of the American Booths that 'General' Booth saw at once that its prompt suppression was necessary to preserve the Salvation Army from disruption.  Accordingly he hastened to use all his resources to that end."

Eva, as she was popularly known, arrived in New York on the steamship Teutonic on February 21, 1896.  Salvation Army legends tell a dramatic story of what ensued.  Told and retold is the tale that Eva found herself locked out of the 14th Street headquarters.  Members loyal to her brother and sister-in-law booed and hissed from the windows.  Eva waved an American flag over her head (some say she wrapped herself in it) and cried out "Hiss that, if you dare!"  She immediately won over the throng.

In fact, newspapers nationwide reported a much less romantic, if no less emotional string of events.  The Salt Lake Herald reported on February 22 "Almost directly after Commissioner Eva's arrival a meeting of the international committee was held.  There were present only Commander and Mrs. Ballington Booth, Commissioner Eva Booth, Commandant Herbert Booth and Colonel Nicol."

Evangeline Booth, from the collection of the Library of Congress.

Although Herbert Booth explained to Nicol, who had come from England with Eva, that the New York Salvation Army members were almost universal in their support of Ballington Booth and his wife, the couple was asked to turn over their keys.  They "quietly retired," in Ballington Booth's words.

Meanwhile, across the sea, Bramwell Booth told reporters "I do not believe that the attempt of Ballington Booth to destroy General Booth's influence and to divide the army will seriously disturb many of our people."  The Sun, on April 8, 1896, disagreed.  "It is now proved, therefore, that the rupture in the Salvation Army is beyond healing," it said.  "It is not likely that the Salvation Army anywhere will long service 'General' Booth, who is now an old man."

In the same basement room where "lodgers" slept, Commander Booth Tucker addressed Salvation Army members in 1902.  photograph by Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The newspaper was wrong.  In 1910 the Salvation Army expanded into the historic Harriet Cruger mansion next door.  Perhaps as part of the project, architect William S. Barker was commissioned in March that year to alter the interior walls of the main building.

In the meantime, the ground floor shop was home to the Collapsible Paper Box Co., in 1913, and the Novelty Stamp Co., Inc. the following year.

The Financial Panic of 1907 left thousands of New Yorkers out of work for years.  Evangeline Booth had proposed to hire unemployed young women to make bandages for European war victims; but finances were tight.  When the chairman of the mayor's Committee for the Relief of the Unemployed contributed $1,000 to the program, her plan forged ahead.  Eva Booth explained the money would be put toward her hoped-for fund of $6,000 "in order that 100 needy girls might be given employment for ten weeks at a daily salary of $1 each."

In 1918 the Salvation Army headquarters suffered a massive fire.  So devastating was the damage that the upper half of the structure was destroyed.  On March 2 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that architect William S. Barker had been hired to reconstruct "the Salvation Army Training School."  The renovated structure would now be just four stories tall.

With its remodeled building completed the Salvation Army returned to business as normal.  The day after Thanksgiving in 1919 the New York Herald reported "The Salvation Army has made it a custom each year to round up the victims of John Barleycorn on Thanksgiving and make an effort to reclaim them."  

Thanksgiving had become known within the Salvation Army as "Boozers' Day," and a team of members searched the city's Skid Rows each year for alcoholics who were lured to the headquarters by the siren call of a turkey dinner.  The only price for the hot meal was listening to speeches of reform, hymns, and prayers.

The New York Herald reported "During the afternoon William Sheely, who was reclaimed ten years ago, and since then has aided at every 'Boozers' Day,' directed the expeditions of five automobile buses which scoured the Bowery, the Battery, Hell's Kitchen and other localities in search of horrible examples."

On October 19, 1926 the funeral of Salvation Army Commissioner Thomas Estill was held in the headquarters building.  It was presided over by Evangeline Booth.  The ceremony was among the last high-profile rituals within the building.

The reduced headquarters and the annex next door were both outdated and too confining for the Salvation Army's work.  Both were demolished and in 1929 the massive Art Deco-style structure designed by Ralph Walker of Voorhees, Gmelin & Walker was begun.  Despite the ongoing Great Depression, work forged on and the striking structure was completed in 1935.

photograph by Beyond My Ken