The Patrick J. Walsh House - 76 Edgecombe Avenue

The entrance was originally above a high stone stoop, directly behind the corner light pole.

George J. Hamilton was both an architect and real estate developer.  He worked tirelessly in the Harlem district in the 1880's and '90's erecting flat buildings and rowhouses.  In January 1889 he filed plans to erect twelve residences--18 and 19 feet wide each--along the block front of Edgecombe Avenue between 138th and 139th Streets.  Each was to cost $8,500 to construct--around $239,000 today.  

His Queen Anne style row was completed in the spring of 1890.  Like its neighbors, No. 76 on the southern corner, rose three stories above a high English basement.  The basement and first floor were faced in rough-cut brownstone; the upper floors in red brick.  The rounded corner was topped by a conical "witch's cap" fronting a shallow mansard roof.

Immediately upon completion Hamilton sold the entire group to Nelson Cadmus, including in the deal eight more new houses around the corner on West 139th Street.  Cadmus paid the equivalent of $9.9 million for the 20 dwellings.

On December 8 No. 76 was sold to Patrick J. Walsh, a well-known and successful builder, for $21,400 (just above $600,000 today).  Walsh and his wife, Ellen, moved into the house with their three small children--two daughters and a son.

Tragically, their youngest daughter, Madeline, died in their new home on November 20, 1891.  She was only 8-years old.  Her funeral was held in the parlor four days later.

William J. Walsh was 10-years old when the family moved to Edgecombe Avenue.  He entered business college rather than high school so he would be prepared to work in his father's office.  And after graduating in July 1897, he did so.

But then, caught up in the passionate wave of patriotism that swept the country when the United States entered the Spanish-American War, William sneaked away to enlist in the 71st Regiment.  He kept it a secret from his parents until he was called away to Camp Black.

Before long William was in Cuba fighting.  The New York Herald wrote "Cheerful letters were received from him from Southern camps and from Cuba.  The last was written on the day following the battle about San Juan Hill."  Then the letters stopped.

After several weeks his worried parents began inquiries, first through letters.  A clue came on August 23 when The New York Times listed the names of soldiers arriving in camps from Cuba suffering from illness, including 104 cases of typhoid fever.  But the list simply noted "William J. Walsh, left in Cuba sick."

Frantic, Patrick Walsh (whom The New York Herald commented "has a comfortable home at No. 76 Edgecombe Avenue") set out to find his son.  Hearing that another transport ship, the Roumania, was arriving at Camp Wikoff on Montauk Point, Long Island on September 4, he went there.  Startlingly, The New York Herald reported "he was there when the transport...arrived but there was not an official who could tell him whether his son was aboard."

Unwilling to give up, he began a bed-by-bed search of the infirmaries.  Two days later he found William, "worn down with Cuban fever and dysentery."  Patrick sent for Ellen and they stayed by his bedside every day for a week.  Finally, "by a great deal of perseverance," as worded by The Herald, on September 13 they obtained permission to have him moved to a New York hospital.

The newspaper reported "At his bedside, in a private ward, his father and mother watched day and night."  The teen died on September 19 and his body was removed to the Walsh home.

William's funeral was held in the house on September 22.  The following day The New York Times reported that the 18-year-old had been buried with military honors in Calvary Cemetery.  "A squad of twelve men from Company D under command of First Sergt. Hugh Rainey accompanied the body to the grave."  But the gesture did not lessen his parents' bitterness.  "Although the doctors say he died of fever, Mr. Walsh declares he died of starvation.  Mr. Walsh says his son lay in Camp Wikoff unidentified and improperly attended for many days."

Patrick and Ellen Walsh's enmity towards the military was only worsened three days after the funeral when Ellen received a response to one of her earlier letters from Lt. Colonel Charles Smart.  It said in part:

Dear Madam:  In reply to your letter inquiring relative to William J. Walsh...you are respectfully informed that the records of this office furnish no information being on the subject of his sickness or whereabouts.

By 1920 when Patrick and Ellen Walsh sold the house the neighborhood was rapidly changing from one of fewer private homes to more and more rooming and boarding houses.  The new owner, M. A. Dreyer, commissioned architect S. F. Oppenheim to renovate the property into what the new Certificate of Occupancy bluntly called a "tenement."  It was no doubt at this time that the stoop was removed and the entrance moved to sidewalk level.

Among the new tenants in 1924 was Mrs. William Phillips who operated her small business from her kitchen.  In October that year she placed an advertisement in New York Age that read: "Mrs. William Phillips, formerly of King's Highway, begs to inform the public that she is again opening up her Catering Business at 76 Edgecombe avenue, N.E. Cor. 138th street, and would be pleased to cater to her many friends, and the public in general.  Outside orders especially solicited."

Much more notable than Mrs. Phillips's catering business was the Mwalimu School run by the multi-talented Manet Harrison Fowler.  She had founded the school in 1928 and in 1932 moved it into No. 76, leasing the entire building.   A 1913 graduate of the Tuskegee Institute, she went on to study visual arts at The Chicago Art Institute and music at the Chicago Musical College and American Conservatory of Music.  She was not only a well-known operatic soprano, but a recognized painter.

She formed the Mwalimu School of African Art, otherwise known as the Mwalimu Center for African Culture, to develop African music and creative art.  Among the instructors here was esteemed Black historian Carter G. Woodson.

The warm contrast of brownstone and brick can be seen in this tax photo from about 1940.  via the NYC Department of Records & Information Services.

Harrison had married educator Stephen Hamilton Fowler in 1915.  Both were natives of Fort Worth, Texas.  The couple had five children.  In April 1950 the funeral of 32-year old Stephen, Jr. was held in the house.  The young man had been ill for some time and succumbed to a heart attack.  In reporting on his death the New York Age added that along with his father he "is also survived by his mother, Manet Harrison Fowler, nationally known musician; two sisters, Rosemarie and Manet, two brothers, Carroll and George."

His sister Manet would go on to become the first Black woman to earn a Ph.D in cultural anthropology in the United States.  George became Commissioner of the New York State Division of Human Rights.

While Manet Harrison Fowler would be better known as a moving force in Black culture, Stephen was highly involved participant in both religious and racial equality movements, including the Baptist church, the NAACP and the Harlem YMCA.  On October 24, 1965 he was found dead in his hotel room in Syracuse, New York.  As President Emeritus of the laymen's council of Mt. Olivet Church, he was attending the Empire State Baptist Convention there.  He had suffered a heart attack.  

Manet Harrison Fowler died in February 1976.   

Whatever was left of George J. Hamilton's Victorian interior details have been stripped out for featureless, dry walled apartments.  Outside the red brick has been painted red and the brownstone painted gray.  To save costs when replacing the windows, the owners opted for flat panes on the corners rather than the original rounded glass.  One of the two surviving houses of Hamilton's 1890 row, its charm manages to survive.

photographs by the author

The Julius S. Klous House - 322 West 89th Street

The sensuous swirl of the carving of the stoop railing anticipates of the Art Nouveau movement, which would not become popular for years to come.

Developer Garrett Van Cleve began construction of a row of seven brick-and-stone faced rowhouses on West 89th Street between West End Avenue and Riverside Drive in 1889.  Completed the following year, they were designed by Frederick K. Camp as Renaissance Revival-Queen Anne hybrids.  His plans placed the costs of the 22-feet wide residences at $18,000 to $20,000 each--or about $563,000 today for the more expensive homes.  

Among them was No. 322 West 89th Street.  Its English basement and parlor levels were faced in planar brownstone, while the upper stories were of red brick.   Renaissance Revival took the stage in the carvings of the entrance and spandrel panels below the parlor windows.  The general asymmetry, the creative use of brick as a design element (in the blind panels and chain pattern in the gable), and the substantial brick two-window dormer beside the charming half-round window were elements of the Queen Anne style.

The house was sold to Oscar Schoenherr, a partner in the silk and velvet importing business Fleitmann & Co.  It is unclear if he lived here or simply used the property as rental income.  Upon his death in 1897 he was living on St. John's Place, in Brooklyn.

At the time Julius S. Klous was leasing the house.  He was a partner in the "hatter's trimmings" importing firm of Klous, Byron & Eastmond at No. 473 Broome Street.  His position within society was evidenced by his membership in the exclusive Union League Club.

In July 1902 Klous purchased a house just steps away at No. 338 West 89th Street.  The following March the Schoenherr estate sold No. 322 to John Nelson Hayward and his wife, Christine.  The couple had two daughters, Sara Tyson and Christina Watson, Hayward.  Socialites were informed by The New York Herald in December 1904 that "During this month, Mrs. John Nelson Hayward of No. 322 East Eighty-ninth street, is at home home Mondays."

The Hayward family's residency seems to have lasted only as long as the daughters remained single.  On March 12, 1905 the engagement of Sara to Edward Stroebel Johnson was announced; and on April 14, 1907 Christina's engagement to George Ross McKee was published.

Christina's wedding took place on January 15, 1908.  The following year her husband was made a partner in the real estate and insurance firm of McKee, Hayward & Co. with Malcolm M. Hayward, presumably a relative.  The arrangement did not work out and in 1910 McKee "retired" from the firm.

Before then McKee, Hayward & Co. were, not surprisingly, the agents in the sale of No. 322 in October of 1909.  The buyer, Marie L. Degener, already owned several properties along the row.  She leased No. 322 to B. F. Haas, a real estate developer, and his wife.  They lived here until 1915 when the house was sold again, this time to a "Mrs. Young."

In fact, there was no Mrs. Young.  The buyer was musician Norman Winter, who now operated the house as a boarding house for others in the musical field.

Winter was a pianist and voice coach.  On October 11, 1917 The Music Magazine mentioned "A great addition to the success of Miss [Florence] Nelson has been Norman Winter, the gifted American pianist, who is the accompanist at her recitals and songs."  He operated his voice studio from the 89th Street house.

The Sun, January 10, 1915 (copyright expired)

Soprano Edythe Le Bermuth moved into No. 322 in the summer of 1921.  Born in St. Louis as Edythe Hayward, she traveled to Europe, studying voice in Vienna, Paris, Brussels and Lausanne.  She sang the roles of Marguerite in Faust, Violette in La Traviata, and Manon in Manon Lescaut in the leading opera houses.  The married Belgian banker Arthur Le Bermuth in 1894.  Now widowed, Edythe had returned to the United States the year prior to moving into the 89th Street house.

Norman Winter took a student to court in the fall of 1927.  Nathaniel Wagner did not aspire to sing at the Metropolitan Opera House, but on the Broadway stage.  He landed a job in the chorus of the Shubert theaters, earning $25 per week, and then came to Winter for voice lessons.

According to Winter, "I found that his voice had possibilities and it was agreed that payment for his teaching would be guaranteed by the mother of a young woman to whom he was engaged."  A five-year contract was signed.

But the deal fell apart when Wagner broke his engagement and married the niece of another voice teacher, Oscar Seagle.  The mother of the first fiancee, understandably, refused to continue paying for Wagner's lessons.  Seagle, at the same time, insisted "something was amiss with his training" and took Wagner as his own student.  On November 20, 1927 The New York Times reported Winter was suing for $20,000 (around $289,000 today).  Wagner's defense was that "after he had changed teachers his voice improved and that he was justified in ignoring the contract."

The street address is incorporated into the Renaissance-inspired carvings of the entrance.

Another notable musical residence was Jean Theslöf.  The Finnish singer was as well known for his athletic abilities.  In 1924 he competed in four shooting events in the Summer Olympics.

Salesman and amateur boxer Robert Exton lived here by the fall of 1936.   In October he was given a wire-haired terrier, Terry, by friends.  They were unaware that the dog was losing its eyesight.  The New York Post later explained "Like a parent who grows more and more attached in a child afflicted with some infirmity, Robert Exton became more and more devoted to Terry because he was going blind.  Every night he bathed Terry's eyes with boric acid solution; he nursed him as though the dog had been a human being."

The Long Island Sunday Press was even more dramatic in painting its word picture:

[Exton's] best-loved pal was his little fox terrier.  Exton and the dog were inseparable chums...going everywhere together in the man's leisure hours, sleeping in the same room.  On $20 a week, in New York, there is not much leeway left over for luxuries.  Yet the terrier was fed on the fat of the land, even when hunger was none too far away from his master.  The good little dog gradually went blind.  No longer could he frisk through the parks on his daily walks.  He must be led on a leash, and be guided away from any obstacle which might hurt or bruise him if he should collide with it.

Tragedy came on March 29, 1937 when Exton took Terry to the apartment building at No. 169 West 97th Street to visit his sister and brother-in-law.  For some reason the doorman, Joseph Johanson, attacked the dog.  The Long Island Sunday Press reported that the 49-year old doorman "did one of the most rottenly unpardonable things any man could have done under the circumstances.  As the dog went unseeingly past him, Johanson kicked the poor little sufferer with right savage force."

Johanson had chosen the wrong man's dog to kick.  The amateur boxer landed a punch which knocked him off his feet.  Johanson's head struck a set of steps, fracturing his skull.  He died later at the Knickerbocker Hospital.  Before turning himself into police, Exton took Terry to his sister's apartment.  "As he was being led away, he turned to his brother-in-law, Morris Stein...'Will you please keep up the treatment of Terry's eyes?  If it stops now, all the work I've been doing won't do them any good,'" said the Sunday Press.

Exton's murder hearing was held on June 2.  The Canisteo, New York, Times began its article saying "Judges as a rule are human," and The New York Times added "Quoting from a publication entitled 'Man's Best Friend,' a eulogy on dogs, Magistrate Brooks in homicide court recently dismissed a charge of homicide against Robert Exton...Many in court applauded the court's decision."

Exton remained in the 89th Street house and soon had a second dog.  On February 23, 1938 the New York Sun reported on the Bloomingdale's dog show and mentioned "Another dog is Punchdrunk Lady of Hallwyne, entered by Robert Exton of 322 West Eighty-ninth street."

This spandrel panel was evidently executed by a beginner stone cutter.  The profile is at once charming and comical in its naivete. 

Dr. Robert Amos Mee practiced from the house by 1943.  He would be a significant figure in another murder case.  Lieutenant Adam A. Rother and Rita Costello came to his office on July 2 that year seeking to discover if the 41-year old Coast Guard officer could sire children.  They came back the next day and again two days later.

Less than two weeks later, on July 17, the couple were riding in a taxicab on Staten Island.  The driver was shocked by a gunshot and the flash.  Rita Costello was dead in the backseat.  Rother was charged with first-degree murder and the sensational trial was vividly covered in newspapers across the country.  Prosecutors claimed he killed her because she refused to marry him.  Dr. Mee was brought to the stand in March 1944 to testify about the office visits.  In the process he was asked a puzzling question.  The New York Sun reported "Under cross-examination he stated that Miss Costello did not have any venereal disease."  

In the end, a single female juror saved Rother from the electric chair.  The other eleven, who voted for a first-degree murder conviction, agreed the lesser second-degree charge "rather than have the trial end in a disagreement," explained The Times, on March 30, 1944.  Rother was sentenced to 20 years to life imprisonment.

The 89th Street house was officially converted to apartments in 1958.  There were now two apartments per floor, including the basement level.  Rather amazingly the stoop was not removed, as was common in most such conversions.

photographs by the author

The Lost Five Points Mission Building - 63-65 Park Street

from the Manual of the Corporation of the City of New York, 1868 (copyright expired)

In the 18th century the Collect Pond covered 48 acres and, in spots, was up to 60-feet deep.  What had been a popular place for picnics in the summer and ice skating in the winter became polluted and odorous when tanneries, slaughterhouses and other nearby business dumped their waste here.  Derided at the end of the 18th century as "a very sink and common sewer," it was slowly filled.  By 1813, the entire lake was undetectable.

Among the businesses that had brought on the ruination of Collect Pond was Coulthard's Brewery, erected around 1792.  It faced Paradise Park, the triangular plot bounded by Cross, Anthony and and Little Water Streets steps north of Orange Street.  The complex intersection earned the entire neighborhood the nickname Five Points.

The Coulthardt Brewery, and subsequently the Mission Building, faced the triangular plot.  By 1853 all of the streets creating the five-point intersection had been renamed.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The brewery closed around 1837 and the building was converted to tenement use.  By now the Five Points area was the most infamous slum in the city--known for extreme poverty, crime and vice.  The degraded district was in the cross-hairs of the mission movement in the years before the outbreak of Civil War. 

The Ladies' Home Missionary Society, organized in 1844, was among the earliest to venture into the neighborhood.  In 1850 it opened a Sunday school in a single room on the corner of Cross and Little Water Streets, directly across from the Old Brewery.  In his 1872 Lights and Shadows of New York Life, James McCabe Dabney recalled "This school at once gathered in the ragged and dirty children of the neighborhood, and at first it seemed impossible to do anything with them.  Patience and energy triumphed at last.  The school became a success, and the ladies who had projected it resolved to enlarge it."

Their ambitious plan involved the Old Brewery property across the street.  On March 10, 1852 the New-York Daily Tribune reported "the ladies of the Home Missionary Society held a special meeting on Monday morning, for the purpose of ascertaining how much had so far been contributed toward the purchase of the Old Brewery.  There were reported at this meeting, cash and pledges, $2,790; making the amount thus far received about twelve thousand dollars."  The newspaper was justified in placing the amount in italics.  It would equal about $400,000 today.

The Old Brewery building - Our Police Protectors, 1885, (copyright expired)

The Old Brewery building was purchased for $16,000, according to The New York Herald.   The cost of construction of the double building was set at $33,000--more than $1 million in today's dollars.  By the beginning of 1853 progress was such that on January 27 the cornerstone was laid by Bishop Edmund S. Janes of the Methodist Episcopal Church.

Three months later, on June 17, the completed building was dedicated.  The New York Herald announced "There was present a very large attendance, principally ladies, who appeared to take a deep interest in the proceedings."

The dedicatory sermon was given by Rev. Dr. James Floy.  It left no doubt as to the debauched conditions of the district.  He said in part:

The building was erected not only for the purpose of gathering into its chambers the wicked portion of that wicked community...but also for the promotion of the glory of God, that the wicked might be rescued from their degradation.

The New York Herald reported that Floy "knew of no object more worthy of the attention of all Christians than the Ladies Home Mission Society, who raised up a fine building in the midst of a wicked community."

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

The newspaper explained the interior layout.  The western, narrower portion of the structure was used partly for the parsonage of the Missionary Society.  The basement included a "general school room, a primary school room, and two dressing rooms, one for boys and the other for girls."  A two-story chapel with double-height windows occupied part of the first and second floors.  It could accommodate 500 people.  The top two floors were divided into apartments for 20 families, each having two bedrooms.  They would experience an enormous step-up from their previous living conditions.  The Herald remarked "The building is supplied with Croton [i.e. running] water and gas."

As with all missions and orphanages, Thanksgiving and Christmas were the high points of the year for the children and residents.  In 1868 the Five Points Mission served 500 pupils, ranging from 3 to 12 years in age.  A Thanksgiving tradition lost today was the roast pig; but it was not lost on the children that day.

"The tables were bountifully spread with all the customary accessories to a thanksgiving feast," reported the New-York Tribune, "not forgetting that noble bird, the turkey, nor the traditional roast pig, which graced the main table.  The children were orderly and quiet, and their enjoyment of the dinner was so intense that the scene was one calculated to charm the dollars from the pocket of the most uncharitable churl in existence, had he only witnessed it."

Two years later the newspaper noted that the number of needy served had greatly increased.  "About 1,500 were provided with dinner, two-thirds of whom were children belonging to the Mission."  And in 1875 the number had grown again.  The New-York Tribune reported "the whole number who came and went during the afternoon could not have been less than two or three thousand."

Providing for that many required donations of food and money.  The article noted "Charter K. Crooks, of the Bowery, presented a loaf of bread, the size of a tolerably large alligator, being between five and six feet in length, and two and a half feet in width, which was suspended in the middle of the dining-room on an immense tray.  An apparently well-to-do and intelligent-looking pig sat resting in stolid dignity in the center of one of the long rows of tables."

It was around this time that the structure was enlarged.  The 1881 Cyclopaedia of Methodism noted "Within the last few years extensive additions have been made in the mission-house."  They included an extension to the rear that housed additional school rooms, "costing $7,000" and a bequest from J. B. Scholes that paid for the erection of an abutting four-story building to house the office, manager's room and "rooms for the making, storing, and distributing of clothing to the 600 children who attend the schools."

The addition is at left in this stereopticon slide view.  

The article explained how the living spaces were disbursed.  "The tenement-rooms in the mission-house are occupied by widows and their children free of rent--the cleaning of the building being attended to by those women."  

The classes were went beyond those offered in the public schools.  The mission movement knew that the only way to rescure the Five Points residents from a dead-end fate was to give them the tools to earn a living.  The Cyclopaedia of Methodism noted "The sewing-school under the care of the mission has trained many little ones to help themselves by the use of the needle, and has during the past year had an average attendance of 150 children and 30 volunteer teachers."

As the turn of the century approached, the mission and its objectives had greatly increased.  On May 10, 1894 The Evening World explained "The mission was started forty years ago as a shelter for the children of the slums.  The scope of its work has been so broadened that now a new building has become necessary."  The article announced "The Five Points Mission House at 65 Park street is to be torn down and replaced by a handsome eight-story building."

New-York Tribune, September 11, 1894 (copyright expired)

The Five Points Mission Building was demolished that spring and construction begun on its handsome replacement.  The new building would not last long.  On October 2, 1915 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide announced "In continuation of the demolition of buildings to clear the site of the new civic center, the wreckers have reached the Five Points Mission Building, and it is now going the way of the others.  Blocks and acres of buildings, new and old, have been sent to the scrap heap, and now there is a clear vista from City Hall Park to Mulberry Bend Park, through what was once the slums of the city."

Today not even the streets that surrounded the Five Points Mission Building exist; replaced by the massive complex of courts buildings and Columbus Park.

image via Google Maps

A 1922 Make-Over - 131 West 21st Street

In the mid-1870's the 22-foot wide, three-story brick residence at No. 131 West 21st Street was home to merchant Elmore Kent.  It sat on a block lined with similar comfortable homes.  Change came in the 1880's when the neighborhood began seeing the encroachment of commerce as leviathan department stores rose along Sixth Avenue, just steps away.  Speculator E. C. Scofield and his wife, Alice, moved into No. 131 around 1890.  Alice operated her dressmaking business from the house, and the couple remained past the turn of the century.  

Serious change first came to No. 131 after Terrence Duffy purchased the property in 1910.  The interiors were gutted and the stoop removed as the residence was converted to a factory and store.  

An incident sparked by a labor strike here two years later caused near panic among the well-dressed women who shopped on Sixth Avenue.   On Friday, May 10, 1912 pro- and anti-labor factions clashed.  Tempers flared and Amedeo Augurson attempted to attack a picketer, Abraham Galubechk.  When Augurson returned the next afternoon Galubechk found Detective Joseph Maher and demanded he be arrested.

The New York Press reported "Galubechk pointed Augurson out to the detective.  When Maher tried to arrest the man...Augurson pulled a revolver and tried to shoot him."  The two wrestled on the pavement and the commotion spilled onto the avenue.  "Women shoppers at Sixth avenue and Twenty-first street became hysterical yesterday afternoon when they saw two men, one with a revolver, rolling over the sidewalk in a desperate struggle," said the newspaper.

Not surprisingly, it did not end well for Augurson.  Officer Maher was able to disarm him by rapping his wrist with his nightstick.  Augurson was locked up facing charges of disorderly conduct, felonious assault, attacking an officer, and carrying a dangerous weapon.

The little building housed apparel-related firms like Black & Waxman, which took a loft in 1917.  Joseph Schifter's sewing machine parts and repair shop was here by the following year when he was looking for a machinist "experienced on Bonnaz embroidery machines."  He was still leasing space in 1920 when the building was sold to Isaac Dublier.

On June 25, 1921 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that he had hired architect William I. Hohauser to remodel the building.  It was a gut renovation, including a "new front, extension, floors, stairs, fire-escapes, etc."  It was a minor commission for Hohauser, who was best known for designing theaters.

Nevertheless, he transformed the vintage house to an up-to-date factory building inspired by the waning Arts and Crafts movement.  Complete in August 1922, Hohauser faced the building in multi-colored brick which he deftly used as the sole material in its decoration.  Expert masons laid the brick in various diapering patterns, making full use of the differences in hue.  Spandrel panels were accented by chain-like designs of protruding brick.  Rather than a cornice the structure was crowned by a brick pediment which contained a puzzling decoration that appears to be a numeral 11 or the initials II.  Steel frame construction of the new facade allowed for vast expanses of glass to the factory spaces.

The three-toned bricks are laid in a host of patterns throughout the facade.

The renovated building continued to house apparel firms like the dress manufacturer Albert Cirine who signed a lease in 1925 and the Maidwell Brassiere and Corset Company.  The latter firm was terrorized on the afternoon of July 12, 1932 when three armed men stormed into the office and made off with the $1,000 cash payroll.

By then apparel shops were being replaced with the offices of labor organizations.  The Ex-Servicemen's League, a Communist organization, was in the building by 1932, as was the Jugoslav Workers' Club.  In August that year the latter organization held a fund-raising event here with the goal of raising $40,000 for the Communist newspaper The Daily Worker.

By 1934 the Needle Trades Workers Industrial Union had its offices in the building.  The Daily Worker said on February 7, 1934 that year the Needle Trades Workers Industrial Union "is endeavoring to bring about union control in all needle shops."

At the end of World War II the building was taken over by the Castro Furniture company.  Where socialists had battled for workers' rights New Yorkers now browsed the latest styles in sofas and dining room sets.

Castro Furniture continued to operated from the building into the 1950's. 

In the last quarter of the 20th century the Ladies' Mile neighborhood was rediscovered.  The hulking Sixth Avenue department stores, some of which had sat essentially vacant for years, found new life as retail and residential space.  In 2004 No. 131 joined the trend when it was converted to one apartment per floor above the ground floor store.

photographs by the author

Gross & Kleinberger's 1913 11 West 25th Street

The 25-foot wide, four-story brownstone house at No. 11 West 25th Street was built in a prestigious location.  Steps away from Fifth Avenue and Madison Square, it was next door to the fashionable Trinity Chapel where some of Manhattan's wealthiest families worshiped.   But by end of the 19th century the neighborhood had mostly ceded to commerce as millionaires migrated north.

On August 3, 1912 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that Benjamin Barnett had purchased the property.  "Mr. Barnett will erect a loft building on the site."  Barnett and other investors formed The 11 West 25th St. Co. and within the week of buying No. 11 took out a $135,000 building loan--a significant $3.61 million today.  

The developers wasted no time.  The architectural firm of Gross & Kleinberger was hired to design a 12-story loft and store building and on August 17--just two weeks after the purchase of the property--plans were filed.  

On September 8, 1912 The New York Times reported "One of the latest additions to the many tall lofts now in course of construction in the mid-town zone is a twelve-story structure, now well under-way at 11 West Twenty-fifth Street...It will be of fireproof construction throughout, with a facade of enameled terra cotta."

Gross & Kleinberger released this rendering to the press.  The New York Times, September 8, 1912 (copyright expired)

On June 21, 1913, as construction was nearing completion on No. 11, the Record & Guide commented on the flurry of development along the block.  In an article entitled "West 25th Street / Loft Buildings Displacing More Private Dwellings There," it detailed eight buildings under construction, mentioning that "At 11 West 25th street plastering and interior equipment is being installed."

At the time terra cotta clad commercial buildings in the neo-Gothic style were rising throughout Manhattan; the most notable being Cass Gilbert's masterful Woolworth Building under construction downtown.  Gross & Kleinberger followed suit, embellishing No. 11 with shields, crockets and other Gothic elements.  

Construction was completed in the summer of 1913 and tenants were signing leases by August.  Among the first was the Singer Sewing Machine Company which took the ground floor store and basement level.

Interestingly, both offices and factories shared the upper floors.  Apparel firms like H. I. Cohen,  the Madison Carnet Company and John O. Powers took floors.  H. I. Cohen, who leased the 7th floor, hit the ground running.  He ran two wants ads in The New York Times on November 29, 1913.  One read "Jobber wants Spring samples of silk waists; also contractors wanted to take out work," and the other "Jobber looking at Spring skirts from $2 to $7.50."

Another initial tenant involved in the garment trade was Joseph A. Herzberg, maker of women's dresses.  He had serious problems in 1914, but they were not associated with his business.  Herzberg and his wife had been married in 1888, but lately their relationship had soured.  He moved out of their home when, according to him, "she threatened to pour kerosene over the bedclothing and set fire to the bed while he was asleep."  

On October 20, 1914 The Sun reported that he told a judge "that once in the Fifth Avenue Building his wife hit him with her fist and cut his face with her rings and on another occasion she chased him out of his office at 11 West Twenty-fifth street, threatening to shoot him."  On that occasion, as Herzberg ran down the block in terror, his wife shouted "Stop, thief!  Murder!  Police!"  Herzberg filed for separation on the grounds that his wife "treated him so cruelly that it is unsafe for him to live with her."

In the meantime other spaces were leased to apparel and millinery firms like F. A. Harris Co.  On March 1914 it was looking for "Milliners and preparers; first-class operators only."  Other firms in the building at the time were the Ascot Manufacturing Co., and Kasse & Goldberg, makers of cloaks and suits.

At the time the high-end retailers along Fifth Avenue above 32nd Street were battling the encroachment of loft buildings along the side streets.  The hundreds of factory and shop workers mobbed the sidewalks and spilled onto upscale Fifth Avenue.  Refined shoppers were loathe to battle the hoards of workmen and the fashionable tone of the avenue was threatened.  The Save New York Movement was born.

The Movement established a “restricted zone” and encouraged manufacturers to avoid it.  The mayor supported the program and initiated zoning restrictions for construction going forward from 32^nd Street to 59^th Street, from Third to Seventh Avenue.   The pressure convinced fur manufacturers Friedman, Schindler & Co. to move into No. 11 in 1916.  On the same day that The Evening Post reported that the firm had signed a lease, The Save New York Commission applauded the move in print.

Celluloid had been patented in 1869 but its use for making jewelry became highly popular in the 1920's.  Among the tenants of No. 11 in 1922 was A. Reinheimer & Co. which made celluloid buckles and buttons in its 7th floor factory.  On the afternoon of July 27 a fire broke out while most of the firm's 100 employees were at lunch.

A pedestrian was nearly hit by a shower of glass from a window, blown out by the heat.  He turned in a fire alarm, but by the time the fire fighters arrived the blaze had spread to the sixth floor, occupied by dress makers Hahn & Benjamin, and to the eighth, where embroider company Robert David, and furriers Harris & Victor leased space.  The mostly female workers in the building scrambled to escape.  The New-York Tribune reported "Some of them were carried down by elevators, others went down fire escapes at the rear of the building and about 150 ran to the roof and made their way across the Townsend Building, at the Broadway corner."

Although the blaze was extinguished within 20 minutes, it did considerable damage.  The 7th floor was essentially gutted and the 6th and 8th were heavily damaged.  The total loss was estimated at $50,000 (just under $750,000 in today's dollars).  And if the loss of its factory was not enough, A. Reinheimer & Co. was soon hit with a summons from the Fire Department which charged the firm "with unlawfully having celluloid in its premises without a permit."

Even as the Garment District moved northward above 34th Street, No. 11 continued to lease to apparel and millinery firms.  Enterprise Accessories, Inc. was here in the early 1930's.  In 1934 it was embroiled in labor conflict with the International Pocketbook Workers Union, which fought for higher wages for its members.  Enterprise Accessories, Inc. decided simply to move its operation to Greenfield, Massachusetts, where wages were cheaper.  But with the nation in the throes of the Great Depression, the National Recovery Administration stepped in.

On August 27, 1934 The New York Times reported "The first move under the NRA to prevent employers from moving their plants from this city to communities with lower work and wage standards and to escape higher union obligations was announced yesterday by the Regional Labor Board."  A representative of the Labor Board stressed, "if this firm is allowed with impunity to lock out its union members and to remove to another place for the purpose of obtaining cheap labor there will be an exodus of such firms from New York."

Other apparel firms in the building in the 1930's and '40's were the Beauty Brassiere Company (makers of "brassieres, bandeaux, and corsets"), the Lace Process Corporation, and Hexter Millinery.  World War II brought extra business to the Fisher-Mair Uniform Company.  But the firm's greed brought not only unwanted publicity but Government action.

Enlisted men were issued uniforms at no cost by the military; however many purchased additional uniforms from retailers like Fisher-Mair.  In the summer of 1944 sailors complained to the Office of Price Administration that they were being charged $45 for uniforms that should cost $28.  Werner Ilsen, the regional enforcement executive, investigated and disclosed "The overcharges were for Navy 'blues'--woolen blouses and pants--and for 'skivvies,' a cotton basque-type undershirt."  Fisher-Mair Uniform Company was sued by the Office of Price Administration for violating ceiling prices and for "having failed to keep proper records."

The second half of the 20th century saw the neighborhood changing once again.  By 1966 the offices of the Lift Extension Institute were here.  Formed in 1913, the philanthropic institution has a goal "of prolonging human life through hygiene and disease prevention."  Over the years its officers had included William Howard Taft, Alexander Graham Bell, William James Mayo and Russell Henry Chittenden.

No. 11 was home to the Capricorn Gallery by 1968.   That year in November a benefit exhibition and sale of original costumes and scenic designs and posters of the City Center of Music and Drama was held here.

In 1984 the advertising agency of J. J. Gross & Company was in the building, and by the late 1990's Haas Company occupied the store level.  On September 24, 1997 The New York Times' food columnist Florence Fabricant wrote "A little-known source for baking equipment at low prices is the Haas Company."  The described the firm as "Mainly a wholesaler that sells just about everything for professional kitchens, from whisks to Traulsen refrigerators."

At the time Frenchway Travel Agency occupied offices on the eighth floor.  The all-female firm specialized in getting the fashion industry to exotic spots for photo shoots and such.

Gross & Kleinberger's Edwardian Gothic building has survived more than a century with almost no change--unlike the Nomad neighborhood in which it sits.

photographs by the author