The Lost Michael Sampter House - 2138 Fifth Avenue

A handsome wooden fence surrounds the property.  Note the two stone hitching posts.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of  New York 

Michael Sampter and his wife, the former Rachel Byck, were married in their native Germany.  According to a descendant, they immigrated to America when Rachel, who was a pacifist, refused to allow her sons to serve in the German army.  In New York Sampter established a wholesale clothing business through which he garnered a fortune.  

He purchased a large amount of land north of the city in Harlem, then a semi-rural and upscale suburb.  Spreading west from Fifth Avenue and 131st Street, the land presented potential.  Not only was it sparsely dotted with elegant residences surrounded by large gardens and lawns, but the northward expansion of the city promised future development.

The Sampter home sat on the southwest corner of Fifth Avenue and 131st Street.  It was based for the most part on the French Second Empire style, but was highly influenced by the new neo-Grec style, notably in the architrave window surrounds with their incised carvings and bracketed cornices.  An imperious stone stoop led to the entrance, and the third floor took the form of handsome mansard with prominent neo-Grec dormers.

Junior partners in Michael Sampter, Sons & Co. were Michael, Jr. and Arnold Sampter.  Rachel and Michael had three other children, Rudolph, Philip, and Jessie.  As Sampter's fortunes continued to increase he built the Hotel Averne in the summer resort Averne-by-the-Sea on the Rockaway peninsula.

In its July 1885 issue Building, An Architectural Monthly reported that Michael Sampter had commissioned architect A. J. Finkle to design three brownstone-faced houses directly behind his own, on West 131st Street.  Each was to cost $60,000 to build, or just over $1.6 million today.  While Michael retained ownership of the houses for decades, they were intended for three of his married children.

Jennie and her husband, Sigmont Simon, took No. 2 East 131st Street.  Simon had been brought into Sampter's business upon the marriage, prompting its name change to Otto, Sampter & Simon.  The Montana newspaper, the Red Lodge Picket later sarcastically said, "Old Mr. Sampter had taken him into the tailoring industry, and not only given him a partnership, but thrown his daughter, Miss Sampter, in as a bonus."

As Sigmont's prosperity increased, he retired at a very early age.  The business was renamed M. Sampter, Sons & Co.   But now Simon's full-time presence in the house caused major problems which were eventually publicized across the nation.  Early in 1895 Jennie and her two children were back in her parents' house.   

The Red Lodge Picket reported on March 2 "Mr. and Mrs. Sigmont Simon got on famously till Simon quit business and began to live at home."  The article described Jessie as "a model housekeeper" and said "the children delighted his eye, the neighbors could not hold a candle to them in the elegance of their lace curtains and the brightness of the brass balusters that led up their front steps.  When their carriage stopped before the front door, envious necks were craned out from windows in all the region round about."

But now, with no business to oversee, he turned his focus to running the household; the traditional domain of the wife.  He criticized the cook's seasonings and the methods of the children's governess.  The breaking point came when he fired the French maid while Jennie was away on a visit in April 1893.  Upon her return she erupted.

The Daily Morning Journal and Courier explained "The wife wanted absolute charge of the household, with power to hire or discharge servants.  The husband demanded to be recognized as master of the household and head of the family."  

At an impasse, Jennie took the children to the Sampter house, described in court papers as "a large private mansion, with ample rooms and accommodations."  On January 26, 1895 The Evening World wrote "Mrs. Simon became incensed at her husband's interference, and, taking her children, went to her father's house declaring she would not return until Mr. Simon agreed to recognize her supreme authority in domestic affairs."

Jennie had sent Sigmont a note that read:

When you are prepared to allow me the entire control of the household, hire and discharge servants, attend to the ordering and manage everything as supreme head of the household, I will return to you, and not till then.

Simon fired back a reply:

Whenever you are willing to allow me to be the master of my own household, to be the head of my family, a right which I have as the one who supplies money to run the household, I will bury the past and take you back.  Until then we cannot live together.

In January 1895 Sigmont obtained a writ of habeas corpus in Supreme Court for his children, Emil Jacob and Jennett.  "He alleges they are illegally restrained by his wife, Jennie Simon, at the residence of Mrs. Simon's father, 2138 Fifth avenue," said The Evening World.

Jennie Sampter Simon became a figurehead of sorts for the women's movement.  She lost the battle but, in a way, won the war.  The Connecticut newspaper, The Daily Morning Journal and Courier reported on March 28, "Judge McAdam of the Superior court of New York has called attention to an ugly fact which stands in the way of Woman's progress and is a bar to her full emancipation."  The judge's decision read in part:

The wife should obey the reasonable demands of the husband.  Under the old English law the husband's authority was supreme, and he had the right to chastise his wife.  The law is different now, but still the husband's reasonable demands must be obeyed.

And while upholding the law, the judge noted "An intelligent woman should certainly not be subjected in the presence of servants and guests to humiliation and ill treatment by her husband, by the offensive assertion that he is master and she must in all things obey him."

Jennie and Sigmont in divorce court.  The World, October 25, 1895 (copyright expired)

The Morning Journal and Courier reporter added his own opinion to the story.  "Married men are not apt to make 'reasonable demands,' and if they do occasionally make one they are not apt to go to law to get its reasonableness established.  So the wife is in most cases the real judge as to the reasonableness of a demand made by the husband."  He added "Woman is not really free as long as even the 'reasonable demand' idea remains in the law."

And so Jennie did not return.  Sigmont sued for separation claiming abandonment.  In court he complained that his wife and the maid insisted on speaking French in front of him, so he was unaware of what they were saying.  

The court gave Jennie absolute custody of the Emil and Jennett, "considering the tender years of the children, the fact that their mother is surrounded by wealth and luxury and that their father is afflicted with a disease which presumably will grow worse."  (That condition was locomotor ataxia, a motor control disorder, often connected to venereal disease.)  The decision added "They are being educated at a private school, and also have private teachers for music and foreign languages."

Once divorced, Sigmont left No. 2 East 131st Street, moved to Pennsylvania and began to work again.  In its July 1896 issue The Clothier and Furnisher reported "Sigmont Simon, of the late firm of Otto, Sampter & Simon, has established headquarters in Philadelphia" as a representative of a clothing house.

While Jennie's domestic drama played out, her brother Philip was married to Ada Schwartz on May 4, 1893.  The New York Herald reported "Many costly presents were received by the pair, including a completely furnished house at Fifth avenue and 131st street from the groom's father."

The bride and groom.  The New York Herald, May 5, 1893 (copyright expired)

Michael Sampter involved himself in Jewish organizations and charities.  He was a patron of the ball at Carnegie Hall given by the Young Ladies' and Gentlemen's League to benefit the Montefiore Home for Chronic Invalids in January 1895, for instance.  The New York Times said "The ball promises to be the most brilliant event in Jewish society this season."

In December that year Sampter sold his "mansion with stable," as described by The New York Times, to Edward Nicholson for $90,000--or about $2.75 million today.  As partial payment he took in return two five-story brick apartment buildings on Eighth Avenue at 113rd Street.  

Michael and Rachel moved down the block to No. 12 West 131st Street.  It was there that Rachel died on November 26, 1897 at the age of 72.

The Fifth Avenue mansion became home to attorney Thomas J. Bannon whose offices were in the Germania Bank Building.  On January 5, 1904 newspapers reported that he had been appointed secretary to Deputy Police Commissioner John F. Cowan at a salary of $2,100.  Equal to about $61,000 today, the income was a supplement to his more rewarding legal practice.

The position was short-lived.  Cowan was gone by July, taking a position in the Sanitary Department, and Bannon resigned by February 1905.  In March 1906 Bannon purchased a house on 114th Street near Second Avenue.  Before long No. 2138 was being operated as a boarding house, run by Charles Fiedler, who was also an auctioneer.

Fidler rented rooms on the first-floor to George Frederick Haeffner and his wife, the former Jeannette Halby, in mid-November 1914.  They had come from Atlantic City in July that year, first living at No. 431 West 34th Street where they paid $6.50 a week rent for themselves and their four children.  But when they moved into No. 2138 the couple came alone.

It was later learned that they had abandoned their sons--Jimmie, Richard, Earl and George--on November 15, just before renting the rooms.  Two were just babies--Earl was 18-months old and his infant brother George was just 2-months--and were the first to be found.  George was discovered in the hallway of a building on East 53rd Street and taken to the New York Foundling Asylum.  Earl was found in front of No. 208 East 47th Street.  He died of bronchial pneumonia on December 10, "induced probably by the exposure in the rain on the night of his abandonment," said The Sun on January 21, 1915.

The older boys survived.  Their parents were tracked down and arrested for abandonment.  In court on January 20, 1915 the 26-year old Jeanette dressed down for the occasion.  The Sun, calling her "thin, small and unimpressive," said she was "dressed in startling contrast to the good but flashy clothes that were found in her room uptown.  A worn brown veil completely covered her head and face until Magistrate Freschi ordered it raised."

Haeffner claimed his wife's poor health prompted them to abandon the children, and Jeanette said "that four children were too much for any woman."  The Sun wrote "Her attitude was one of absolute indifference.  They were boys and could shift for themselves; it was not the kind of life she wanted; they had worn her to a shadow."  The couple faced penalties of seven years in State prison.

Fiedler continued operating the former Sampter mansion as a boarding house into the 1920's.   Then, in 1936 Parks Commissioner Robert Moses proposed condemnation of the properties along Fifth Avenue from 130th to 131st Street to be used for a playground.  Included in the targeted properties was a similar house, the J. D. Mott mansion on the opposite corner from the Sampler house.

Although there was some public outcry about the demolition of the Mott mansion, oddly enough no one seems to have cared about its neighbor.  Both structures were destroyed and the recreational space, now known as the Courtney Callender Playground, was opened in 1937.

many thanks to reader Phyllis Winchester for suggest this post

A Marble Beauty - 40 White Street

photograph by Pam Frederick

The once respectable nature of the White Street block between Broadway and Church Streets had declined by the last years of the 1850's.  The dwelling at No. 40 was being operated as a low-level boarding house with no shortage of violence and trouble.   James Roberts took a room in at the beginning of 1858, for instance.   He left on the evening of January 13, but would never return.  The New York Times reported three days later:

The colored man who was found, Wednesday evening, fatally stabbed in front of the Astor House, proves to have been James Roberts, a sailor, who lived in Philadelphia, but was temporarily staying in this City, and boarding at No. 40 White-street.

And five weeks later four female boarders were standing before a judge following a hand-to-hand battle.  The Times reported on February 22, "Virginia Davis, Georgiana Gordon and Ellen Davis, frail criminals in crinoline, so Catherine Kelly, of No. 40 White-street, alleged--were arraigned on a charge of assaulting and beating Mrs. Kelly (Feb. 17,) and sticking a penknife into her."

Before long the old house was demolished and replaced by a modern four-story loft building.  But it would not last.  At 2:30 on the morning of February 22, 1862 fire broke out and the structure burned to the ground; a loss of about $1 million today.

Four years later textile merchant Benjamin Marks purchased the lot and began construction on a handsome marble-faced loft building.   Completed in 1867 the 25-foot wide structure was a blend of the Italianate and French Second Empire styles.  

photograph by Pam Frederick

Each of the four floors above the inset cast iron storefront was defined by a crisp cornice.  The segmentally-arched openings with their hefty scrolled keystones were separated by engaged Corinthian columns.  The spandrel panels above the top floor windows were embellished with wonderful carved swags of roses--the epitome of Victorian decorative taste.  Atop the stone cornice, where we might expect a mansard roof given the Second Empire influence, the architect placed a parapet deeply carved with the construction date and surmounted by urns.

Most likely two matching urns originally perched on the ends of the parapet as well.  photograph by C. T. Brady, Jr. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The project was an investment for Marks.  He continued his business at No. 107 William Street.   His first tenant was J. P. & E. Westhead & Co., which moved in even before the building was technically completed.  The firm's advertisement in The Chronicle on October 27, 1866 announced its "removal" to the new address and described itself as "smallware manufacturers, and general commission merchants."

It would be a short stay.  On January 11, 1868 another ad in The Chronicle noted that J. P. & E. Westhead & Co. "have removed to 216 Church Street."

Banker Richard H. Bull paid $47,000 for the building on April 17, 1880.  The deal put an end to the rapid turnover in owners throughout the past four years.

Bull made some improvements by enlarging the building to the rear and adding a "sky-light roof" in May 1881.   Both designed and executed by W. McEvoy, the renovations cost Bull the equivalent of $20,300 today.  The updated building became home to drygoods and commission merchants J. W. Clark, Charles M. Rothschild & Co., and shirt maker M. Brown & Co.  

Clark was the target of a Dickens-like scheme in 1884, but proved to be too shrewd to become its victim.  On a day in May a 12-year old boy named George H. Luther appeared and with wide eyes explained, according to The Times, "that his father and mother were sick and his two sisters dying."  A little cash could help relieve the situation.

But instead Clark sent a messenger to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.  Before an agent could arrive, the urchin slipped away.   The Times said "Shortly afterward young Luther obtained three months' rent from a banker on Broadway by telling the same story."

Luther's scams came to an end when he asked the wrong man for a hand-out.  According a New York Times article two months later, "A slender little boy with black eyes and a shock of dark hair entered a saloon at Seventh-street and Avenue A on Saturday night and asked Officer Joseph Saal, of Police Headquarters, for 8 cents to get back to Greenville, N.J."

Luther explained that he had come to Manhattan to find work, but had failed.  "His parents, he declared, were in a bad condition and he was hungry."  Officer Saal was not buying the story.  He arrested the boy and found 40 cents in his pocket, more than enough to cover his fare "home."  He was sent to the Juvenile Asylum and his father, Joseph Luther, "was held for examination for not restraining his son from begging after being warned."

Charles M. Rothschild & Co. was a well-respected retail drygoods firm.  Operated by brothers Charles M. and Jacob M. Rothschild, it was an outgrowth of their father's Cincinnati lace business.  Charles established the business in 1882 as M. Rothschild & Son, and then reorganized with his brother in 1886.   But the firm's suppliers were becoming nervous in the early months of 1887.

H. B. Claflin & Co. was one of the largest wholesale houses in the country.  When it pressed Charles M. Rothschild & Co. for a past due amount, the company asked for an extension.   A Claflin associate went to No. 40 White Street to ensure that everything was alright.  He was astounded to find the shelves mostly empty and reported "that goods have been repacked as soon as received and shipped to friends of the firm in other cities, the cases having marks on them known only to the consignees."

A sheriff arrived and confirmed the allegations.  On March 23, 1887 The Times ran a headline "Startled By A Failure" and said that "The lively proceedings caused a flurry in the trade and the excitement had not abated last night.  Rumors were as thick as snowflakes all day."  

Charles Rothschild expressed his "outrage," claimed all the goods were simply in the warehouse, and promised that "a suit for damages will be brought against Claflin & Co."

As it turns out, the merchandise had indeed been shipped off and the Rothschild brothers had a card up their collective sleeves.  A third brother, Abraham, reopened the business at the White Street address under the name of Meyer Rothschild & Co. later that year.  The New York Times explained "goods were shipped away by the old house just before its failure which were afterward brought back to the new house and sold."

But the creditors of the original firm did not take the insult lying down.  They had "found nothing left to attach" in the bankruptcy proceedings and now attacked the new business.  Abraham Rothschild was arrested and the operation was seized by the sheriff on August 29.  The development caused "much talk in the trade," according to a newspaper.

Shockingly, when the Rothschilds' attorneys appealed the original attachment claiming "that no fraud was shown," in October, the Supreme Court agreed.  The attachment was overturned and The Times reported "Rothschild & Co. now threaten to bring a suit against H. B. Claflin & Co. for $50,000 damages."

Indeed, the Rothschild brothers were not done with their creditors.  Although they did not reopen the business, they launched a flurry of lawsuits.  Their attorneys filed a $50,000 action for the false imprisonment of Abraham; two suits in the same amount for damages to Maier Rothschild, their father; and actions against about half a dozen suppliers.

It was not long before more drama played out at No. 40 White Street.  M. Brown & Co. had been a reliable shirt maker for years.  It had been founded by Marcus Brown around 1869.  In November 1887 he took his son, Harry, and nephew Samuel Brown in as junior partners.  Harry was put in charge of the financial end of the business.   That turned out to be a disappointing and disastrous decision.

On November 26, 1889 The Evening World ran a headline reading "Ruined By His Son" and another in The New York Times the following day proclaimed "Harry Brown's Rascality" and told the story of how Marcus Brown came to realize his business was in ruins.  

Samuel Brown heard reports that his cousin was dealing heavily in Western mines.  Harry, according to The Evening World, "denied them most emphatically and tried to laugh them off."  But Samuel dug deeper, only to discover that since entering the firm Harry had quietly siphoned off cash.  The firm's attorney Otto Horwitz estimated the amount at "from $70,000 to $80,000 and it might amount to $100,000."  And while he had invested $30,000 in a Michigan copper mine, he "had gambled away" the rest.  (The mine he invested in, it turned out, was a scam.)

Realizing that he was about to be exposed, Harry resigned on November 15 saying "that business was too wearing on him."  He left a letter for his cousin declaring he was "dead broke, going to leave town, could not bear disgrace, and had to pawn his jewelry in order to raise the means to get away."  His whereabouts were unknown.

Marcus Brown was understandably devastated.  He was called to a meeting with his creditors on November 26 "but was so overcome that he could hardly say a word."  At that meeting Marcus Brown's reputation and history saved his company.  The Times reported "it was the general desire to let Mr. Marcus Brown begin business again unhampered by any conditions regarding his fugitive son."

Drygoods merchants O. Mathews & Sons operated from No. 40 about the same time.  The success of the firm was reflected in the comfortable country estate Owen Mathews and his family enjoyed in the 1890's.  It was located in Flatbush, then still removed from Brooklyn proper and the site of summer homes of some of Manhattan's well-to-do.

In 1893 O. Mathews & Sons was the victim of burglars who had confounded police in the drygoods district.  Early that spring thieves got away with 150 dozen handkerchiefs and "a quantity of ready-made clothing."  On April 10, 1893 The Evening World reported "Capt. Cross, of the Leonard street police station, and Detectives Keogh and McDermott have been on the lookout for a gang of burglars who have robbed the premises of O. Matthews [sic] & Sons, at 40 White street, and Schalburg & Rabinski, at 46 Walker street, during the past two weeks."

A break came when the investigators followed 30-year old John Howarth, who had been "acting in a suspicious manner in Walker street."  They tailed him to Chatham Square where he was arrested and admitted to the Walker Street theft and to selling the goods to Leon Frank, "who keeps a fence at 3 Elizabeth street."  Frank was next to be arrested.  He too, confessed, saying he had purchased the Mathews & Sons goods from Edward Williams.  A third arrest was made.  The no-nonsense interrogation techniques of 1893 resulted in another speedy confession.

Shirt maker Joseph Boltansky & Son had other problems that year.   The industry suffered a rash of union strikes that year, but Bolstansky and his son took a hard stance.  On June 21 The Evening World reported "More shirt-makers' strikes were ordered yesterday" and "The men working for Isaac Boltansky, 40 White street, were locked out."

More problems came the following year when 22-year old Samuel Auerbach, a salesman for the Clark Thread Company, received payment from Joseph Boltansky & Son for a delivery.   Instead of turning it over to his employer, the young man took it to a printer on Third Avenue and ordered 500 duplicate checks.

But the printer, M. J. Roth, was suspicious and informed police.  They told him to give Auerbach only one of the new checks "as a proof" when he returned to pick them up.   He used the single check to pay his father $110.  But when L. M. Auerbach cashed it at a First Avenue saloon, the jig was soon up.

Joseph Boltansky & Son was a formidable operation, if not the most comfortable place to work.  Of its 48 factory workers in 1895, 24 were men and 24 women.  The rest were minors, two of which were described by factory inspectors as "children who can not read or write English."  They all worked 54 hours per week.

Following Richard H. Bull's death, his son, attorney Charles C. Bull, took over its ownership and management.  The Bull family would retain ownership until 1940.  

In October 1899 architect A. L. Perpignan was hired to install a new "new shaft."   It would seem that Bull intended to replace the old "hatchway"--the method of hauling goods up and down by means of pulleys through a dangerous void--with a modern elevator.

The building continued to house dry goods merchants as well as an occasional unrelated tenant.  In the first decade of the 20th century Kraut, Blum & Nadel, makers of umbrellas, operated here, for instance.  The store and basement were leased to linens dealers Robert McDade Co. in 1917.

McDade Co. renewed its lease in 1922; joined by two tenants on the upper floors, Murphy-Stephenson & Co., Ltd, suppliers of hospital linens; and cotton merchants and cotton and silk converter Thomas F. Donigan & Co.  Similar businesses leased space throughout the bulk of the 20th century.  As late as 1992 the ground floor was occupied by a wholesale dress goods, drapery and upholstery company.

Hint of change in the neighborhood came in the 1980's when Tanam Press moved into the building.  But the true sign of Tribeca's rediscovery arrived in 2000 with the upper floors were converted to a total of five apartments.

photograph by Pam Frederick

Little detail remains of the cast iron storefront.  The elaborate Corinthian capitals were lost decades ago.  And acid rain has badly deteriorated parts of the marble columns above.  But overall the elegant building with its highly unusual parapet and wonderful Victorian floral swags survives nearly intact.

The Sapphire Hotel - 337-339 West Broadway

When Mary McDonell sold the property at the northeast corner of South Fifth Avenue and Grand Street to Joseph I. West on January 23, 1871, it held brick buildings with stores on the ground floors and dwelling space above.  West paid the widow $32,000, or just under $700,000 today.

In 1876 The Metropolitan Elevated Railway Company began construction of an elevated train up the middle of South Fifth Avenue.  Completed in 1878, it included a station at the intersection in front of West's property.  It would cause a considerable fuss in the courts years later.

Fourteen years after purchasing the property, West took steps to improve it.  Peter V. Outcault was both an architect and contractor and West hired the one-man operation to design and build a two-story structure on the site.  Construction began on October 14, 1885 and was completed six months later, on April 29, 1886.

Just two stories tall, it held three stores on the ground floor with two lofts on the second "for business purposes."  The upper portion was faced in red brick with brownstone trim.  The lintels were incised with attractive neo-Grec carvings of a single flower flanked by stylized leaves.  A metal neo-Grec style cornice with rigid fluted brackets ran along the roofline.

A year later, on April 28, 1887, West sold the building to Ephraim Drucker for $44,000; in the neighborhood of $1.2 million in today's money.  Drucker's ground floor tenants were a saloon, which faced South Fifth Avenue, and a grocery store and cigar store on the Grand Street side.

Upstairs in 1892 was the A. J. Clark & Co. apparel factory.  The small operation, which made ladies' cloaks, employed just six men and one woman that year.   It shared the floor with the Automatic Overflow Cut-off Company.  On July 2 that year the Record & Guide advised "One of the best precautionary devices to prevent damage to property from overflow from service pipes and flooding of sinks, is the Automatic Overflow Cut-off."

Six years after having purchased the property, Ephraim Drucker decided to sue the elevated railroad for building its line nearly a decade earlier.  His complaint alleged that the firm had "without any offer of compensation" to Joseph I. West "wrongfully, knowingly, willfully and maliciously" violated West's property rights.  Now, it said, the railroad continued to run its steam locomotives and trains of cars "to the great damage of said land and buildings" with "the intent to oppress" Drucker.  The steam engines, he asserted, brought "noxious smells, vapors and gases" which rendered the atmosphere "less salubrious and healthful."  He sought $2,000 damages for every year since April 28, 1887 (the day he took title).  

At the time of the lawsuit the saloon was run by John Martin DeLora.  He employed, according to his testimony, "three men, two barkeepers and one who cleans up."   When asked he admitted "Women come in there and get a glass of liquor very seldom.  It is sometimes done."  But he quickly added "My place is not a resort for disreputable women, and never has been since I have been there."

Conditions in factories and shops in the 19th century were miserable.  Decades before electric fans or air conditioning the heat that built up was suffocating; especially in spaces like this two story building where the sun beat down on the flat roof directly above.  The situation was evidenced during a stifling heat wave in the summer of 1896.

On August 11 the New York Evening Telegram ran the headline "Death Roll Increased by Intense Heat" and published a nearly page-engulfing list of the dead and "prostrated."  Among them was 24-year old Frederick Hirt who succumbed to the heat "while working at No. 54 Grand street.  He was taken to St. Vincent's Hospital."

That same year South Fifth Avenue was renamed West Broadway, giving the front-facing store the address of Nos. 337-339.  The side entrances retained their addresses of Nos. 54 through 58 Grand Street.  

Surprisingly, the upstairs factories were converted to the Sapphire Hotel shortly after the end of World War I.  As might be expected, the less-than-opulent hotel was from time to time the scene of upheaval.  

Such was the case on January 17, 1924.  That night Charles Gau invited his brother, Anthony, and a friend over.  The New York Evening Telegram reported "Their joviality taking a turn, Charles and Anthony J. Gau and John Victor Nelson are said to have become involved in a three-cornered fight in which a bottle, a mandolin, and a ukulele were used as weapons."  Nelson got the worst of it and was transported to Bellevue Hospital with a fractured skull.  The article added that "Charles Gau's room in the Sapphire Hotel, West Broadway and Grand street, is wrecked."  The brothers were arrested and charged with felonious assault.

At the corner of the building hangs the sign "Sapphire Hotel - Cafe" in this 1939 photograph.  At No. 58 Grand Street is a delicatessen.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

Another Sapphire resident suffered a humiliating and most likely expensive accident in Dobbs Ferry, New York in the fall of 1926.  Edgar Pine, described by The Yonkers Statesman as "an elderly man," took his motorcycle upstate on October 14.  At the "sharp curve" of Main and Cedar Streets there, his rear wheel skidded slightly.  When Pine turned his head to see the trouble, he ran the cycle into the curb.  "The contact threw him to the sidewalk, bruising his head, and damaging the machine," said the article.  The damage to the bike was apparently worse than that to Pine's head.  He was treated at the Dobbs Ferry Hospital and "was able to go home by train."

The Soho renaissance arrived at the corner of West Broadway and Grand Street by 1991 when Jour et Nuit occupied the one-time saloon space.  In June 1993 New York Magazine described the interiors as a "dimly romantic Moroccanesque stage set" and its cuisine as sophisticated, flavor-rich and "thrilling."

The space housed a series of eateries--Niota Indian restaurant in 1997; Town Residential's "international water bar" in 2013; and most recently the Japanese soufflé pancake cafe, Flipper's which opened in September 2019.

photographs by the author

The Corn Exchange Bank Building - 204 West 4th Street

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

photographs by the author

The 1930 Hangar Club - 34-36 East 63rd Street

On August 16, 1929 The New York Times reported on the "development of a new club for men interested in aviation."  On the previous day the architectural firm of Cross & Cross had filed plans for a five-story clubhouse at Nos. 34 and 36 East 63rd Street to replace two upscale dwellings--one of them designed in 1901 by the mansion architect C. P. H. Gilbert.  The article noted "John W. Cutler of the banking firm of Edward B. Smith & Co...was named as the owner, but it is understood that Mr. Cutler has associated with him several men prominent in aviation."

Indeed, the Hangar Club would be initially composed of "aviation executives, bankers and others interested in the financing and development of aviation," according to the newspaper a month later.  Among them were some of the wealthiest men in the city, including stockbroker Hugh Baker; James G. Blaine, president of Fidelity Trust Company; W. A. Harriman; banker John Hay Whitney; and aviation heads like C. V. Whitney of the Aviation Corporation of America; F. B. Rentschler, president of United Aircraft & Transport Corporation; and G. B. Grosvenor, president of Aviation Corporation.

The choice of architects was not surprising.  Eliot Cross was a member and governor of the new club.  He and his brother, John Walter Cross, produced a dignified neo-Georgian style clubhouse that slipped quietly into the exclusive residential block.  Centered in the rusticated limestone base, its arched doorway was sheltered by a columned portico.  A three-story rounded bay terminated in exquisite iron railings.

The upper stories were clad in Flemish-bond brick and trimmed in stone.  The keystone of the tall, central window of the second floor was carved with the face of Mercury, the wing-footed Roman god and emblem of the club.  That window was crowned by a triangular pediment.  The fifth floor took the form of a slate-shingled mansard.

When construction was completed in 1930 its cost was $200,000--over $3 million today.  Despite the stock market crash on October 24, 1929, just after ground had been broken, the millionaire members forged on with the expensive furnishings in keeping with the 18th century architecture. 

photo by Wurts Bros, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The original 200 members enjoyed what The Times called "all the comforts of a well-appointed home."  The first floor contained cloak, shower and lounge rooms.  On the second floor were a large lounge at the front of the building and a game room and bar at the rear.  Prohibition would not end for another three years so the paneling of the bar room cleverly hid lockable cubicles "in which members could keep their individual liquor supply," said The Times years later.

A large dining room and two private dining rooms took up the third floor.  Four "attractively appointed bedrooms" for out-of-town members were on the fourth, and servants' quarters filled the top floor.

The club was furnished with 18th century English furniture and modern reproductions.  Two antique Hepplewhite mahogany wheel-back armchairs owned by the club were copied for the 72 dining rooms chairs.  There were several antique Sheraton pieces, including a sideboard.  The silver-plated flatware and serving pieces were inscribed with the head of Mercury.  The candelabra were not plated, but were sterling silver.

The Hangar Club quickly became a favorite of publishers and writers, as well.  On October 19, 1931 syndicated columnist Charles Hanson Towne reported on a luncheon given by Nelson Doubleday for H. G. Wells to which he had been invited.  "It was at the Hanger Club, of which I had never even heard of, so rapidly do new organizations spring up in New York," he said.  At the event Doubleday told Towne "that Maugham's Of Human Bondage goes right on selling."  William Somerset Maugham was also a Hangar Club member.

Soon men of politics and civic positions joined the initial group.  During his run for governor of New York in October 1934 reporters caught Robert Moses on the sidewalk after his breakfast in the club.  Although he lost the election, he is forever remembered for his massive public works.

The dining room was often the scene of political and business luncheons.  A somewhat surprising event was the luncheon for the film trade press hosted by Earle G. Hines, president of General Theaters Equipment Corp. on April 15, 1938.  The Film Daily reported that he used the event to announce the release of the new "Four Star Simplex Sound System."  

It was emblematic of the changes within the Hangar Club.  By now the fervor over airplanes had calmed and social clubs based on aviation were losing momentum.  Within a year of that luncheon the club had disbanded.

A two-day auction on October 22 and 23, 1941 liquidated the furnishings.  Along with the leather club furniture, according to The Sun, were "the club's complete Reed & Barton silver-plated table service, aeronautical prints, books, table linens, Oriental rugs and lamps, mantel clocks, small bronze and marble busts, paintings and hearth fittings."

Along with the 18th century antiques, the 72 dining rooms chairs were sold in lots of six and twelve.  Included in the silverware were six tea services.  The New York Times mentioned "Some of this silverware has not been removed from its original packages."

In reporting on the upcoming sale of the "luxurious furnishings," The Times explained "Within a short time this five-story brick and stone structure, which formerly housed a club of wealthy New Yorkers, will take on the austere simplicity of a religious institution devoted to teaching girls and will be known as The Assisium."

The clubhouse had been purchased by the Missionary Sisters of the Third Order of St. Francis as a business school for girls.  Renovations completed in 1941 resulted in offices, a lounge and one classroom on the first floor.  The second floor barroom ironically made way for a chapel and two classrooms.  There were now classrooms and the dining room on the third, and bedrooms on the top two floors for the nuns.

The Assisium Secretarial School remained in the building into the 1980's when it was closed by the Archdiocese.  It became home to a variety of offices before being sold in 2003 for just under $20 million and converted to a private residence.

photographs by the author