The Lost Boreel Building - 113-119 Broadway

 

Real Estate Record & Guide, June 25, 1898 (copyright expired)

Born in 1813, Sarah Astor was the daughter of John Jacob and Sarah Cox Todd Astor.  When she married Robert Boreel in 1842, her father transferred title to the former City Hotel (by then being used as an office building) on the western blockfront of Broadway between Thames and Cedar Streets.  

Purchased by John Jacob Astor in 1828, the City Hotel had operated since 1794.  Old New York Yesterday & Today, 1922, (copyright expired)

More than three decades later, on July 13, 1878, the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that Stephen Decatur Hatch had filed plans for a seven-story "brick and iron office building" on the site for Sarah Boreel.  Hatch projected the cost of construction at $270,000 (about $8.5 million in 2024).

An article in The American Architect and Building News on January 4, 1879 discussed the effect of elevators on Manhattan buildings, saying, "with the general use of elevators people would be just as willing to have offices in the seventh or eighth story as in the first."  As an example, it pointed to the Boreel Building "in the process of construction."  It said, "This has a high basement, high enough for handsome offices, a lofty first story suitable for a bank or insurance company, and five stories above that.  It is a large building, and will use four elevators."

Construction was completed in May 1879.  Stephen Decatur Hatch's neo-Grec structure sat on rusticated stone piers.  Its stone-framed Broadway entrance extended into the second floor.  The central bay was topped with a prominent pediment.  Faced in red brick and trimmed in stone, it was the largest office building in New York and, according to William Harrison Bayles in his 1915 Old Taverns of New York, "was considered the finest building devoted to office purposes in the city."  

The four Otis elevators rose within an open atrium lighted by a glass skylight.  On November 2, 1889, Building described, "three floors with galleries surrounding an open court, upon three sides of which offices are located, which are reached by an elevator, as well as by stairways."

Visitors peer over the railings into the atrium.  (original source unknown)

While attorneys and other professionals leased space in the Boreel Building, it quickly became known as the center of Manhattan's mining stock brokers.  Only a year after the building opened, however, things looked bad for them.  On August 2, 1880, The Sun reported,

The mining business seems to be gone, so far as New York is concerned.  The "Regulation hat" has departed from among us.  The halls of the Boreel building are as empty as those of Tara.  The cheery voice of the honest miner is no longer heard asking the elevator boy to let him out at "bed rock," as he facetiously called the ground floor.

The crisis resulted in those "honest" mining brokers in the Boreel Building being replaced by frauds.  As an example, on July 23, 1881, The Record & Guide pointed to "the most unfortunate operator that ever came to New York," George Roberts.  Having made a fortune in California, Roberts sought to enlarge it here.  "But Mr. Roberts, in coming to New York, found himself a lamb among the wolves," said the article.  It listed several transactions in which Roberts had been fleeced, adding, "And now it is understood the the same swindling scoundrels who have treated Mr. Roberts so badly with Huskill, Freeland, Chrysolite, Little Chief, Robinson, Iron Silver and the State Line Mines, are trying to get him into a Mexican mining scheme."

Illustrated New York City and Surroundings, 1889 (copyright expired)

The following year, on May 27, 1882, the Real Estate Record reported on the lawsuit of an investor named Badeau's against several Boreel Building brokers.  He claimed he had been swindled in a deal involving two mines, the Washington and the Bradshaw.  The Real Estate Record agreed, saying, "The $600,000 extracted from mining people by that deal was as clear a steal as any pickpocketing operation ever performed."  The article declared, "They are held responsible, and very justly, and if the $600,000 can be recovered, it will do much to help depopulating the Boreel building of the mining swindlers who are now, it is said, making it their headquarters."

And, indeed, before long most of the mining brokers were gone, replaced by insurance and real estate offices.  The 1887 How to Know New York City advised that the Boreel Building was "filled with offices, largely of famous and powerful insurance companies."

In 1885, rentable, fireproof vaults were installed in the basement of the building.  On October 10, the Record & Guide explained they could be rented for from $15 to $75 per year.  "The smallest of these are 5x6 and 8 feet high, and are especially suitable for family silver, gold plate, books, papers and articles of a bulky nature...The burglar alarm system is used whereby no door can be opened without immediate detection."

By 1888, New Yorkers' confidence in elevators was well established.  Emphasizing elevator safety, on June 20, The Evening World commented, "Patrick Phillips, Eddie Clarkson, John Trainor and Eddie Kasteen take hundreds of lawyers and railroad men up and down in the Boreel Building elevators every day, and have never had an accident."

Sarah Boreel died in 1895 and six years later her estate sold the Boreel Building to the Central Realty Bond and Trust Co. "for a price said to be not far from $2,225,000," as reported by the Real Estate Record & Guide on February 23, 1901.  (That figure would translate to about $82.3 million today.)  In a separate article, the journal predicted, "No doubt some time within the next few years the Boreel Building, itself only a little over twenty years ago one of the best of its kind, will be superseded by a building over twenty stories high."

Indeed, the following year, on May 3, 1902, the Record & Guide reported that the George A. Fuller Construction Co. had purchased the property.  The firm "will improve the site with a 25-story office building, which it is estimated will cost $2,500,000," said the article.  The secretary of the Fuller firm told the Record & Guide, "that operation is two years off."

At the time of the sale, the Boreel Building (right) was separated from the Trinity Building by narrow Thames Street.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In the meantime, a month after that article, the Record & Guide noted that well-known architect Henry Ives Cobb had moved his practice from Washington D. C. and "has leased a large suite of offices on the top of the Boreel Building."

But the inevitable came to pass in 1905.  On March 25 the Record & Guide reported, "The old Boreel Building...has begun to yield to the wreckers' axes, and though partly occupied and not apparent from Broadway, still in the rear it may be seen that the partitions and inside walls are being torn out."

Nine months later, the publication headlined an article, "Farewell to the Boreel Building" and said, "in a few days the last of the debris will have been carted away."  The journalist recalled, 

The Boreel was one of the first of the type of really large fireproof office buildings in the city, and one of the first of those whose construction was influenced by the perfecting of passenger elevators.

The Boreel Building was replaced by the 1907 United States Realty Building, designed by Francis H. Kimball.

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

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J. M. Felson's 1936 137 East 38th Street

 

Architect J. M. Felson kept busy throughout the Depression years designing, for the most part, apartment buildings.  They ranged from splashy Art Deco designs with colorful terra cotta panels to much more sedate versions of the style.  Among the latter examples was 137 East 38th Street, completed in 1936.  The 12-story-and-penthouse structure was faced in ruddy red brick.  Stone appeared only at the water table; the stoic, two-story entrance surround; and two three-floor frames at the eighth through tenth floors.  The slender panes and shallow transoms of the casement windows were important to Felsom's design.  A series of setbacks provided terraces to the eleventh through penthouse levels.

The setbacks and all-important casements can be seen in this 1941 photograph.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

There were nine apartments each on the second through tenth floors, seven on the eleventh and twelfth, and five on the penthouse level.  Among the initial residents were Chester and Beryl Halley Falkenhainer.  Falkenhainer had served in World War I as a Marine.  Now an insurance executive, he was earning $5,000 a year, according to Jacob L. Bapst and Ivan M. Tribe in their Beryl Halley, The Life and Follies of a Ziegfeld Beauty, 1897-1988.  The couple paid $125 per month for the apartment, or about $2,770 in 2024 terms.

Born in Bladen, Ohio in June 1897, Beryl Halley first appeared on Broadway in the musical comedy Tangerine in 1921.  Beginning in 1923, she was a member of Florenz Ziegfeld's famous Follies.  Halley essentially retired from the stage following her marriage to Falkenhainer on September 30, 1933.

Beryl Halley, International News, 1926

Franklin Benjamin and Esther Leeming Tuttle were also early residents.  They moved in following their wedding on June 14, 1940.  Like Chester Falkenhainer, Ben (he went by his middle name) Tuttle was an insurance executive and, like Beryl Halley, Esther Leeming had given up her stage career after marrying.  She had debuted on Broadway playing the part of a Mexican maid in The Petrified Forest with Leslie Howard and Humphrey Bogart.

In her 2003 autobiography No Rocking Chair for Me, Esther (known to her friends as Faity) mentions that their 10th-floor, two-bedroom apartment, "had a great view looking south over the city."  She busied herself for the next few decades volunteering and raising three children.

Esther Leeming Tuttle's astounding career would happen long after moving from 137 East 38th Street.  Following Ben's death in 1968, she returned to acting.  "I thought I might as well try being a granny model," she told a reporter from the New York Post in 2005 (she was in her 90s at the time of the interview).  And, in addition to her many commercial roles, she was highly involved with the Brooklyn Botanical Garden, serving as its Board Chair from 1970 to 1977, overseeing its incorporation, and producing a series of horticulturally themed films.  She died on July 9, 2015 at the age of 104.

Resident August L. Janssen--who moved in with his wife, Alice, shortly after the building's completion--was familiar to many New Yorkers.  Described by The New York Times as "one of the best-known restaurateurs in the city," Janssen was born in Emden, Germany, in 1865.  He arrived in New York at the age of 20 and, while working for a caterer, saved enough to open the Hofbrau Haus restaurant in 1898 on Broadway at 30th Street.

The New York Sun later remarked, "such notables as Enrico Caruso, Victor Herbert and President[s] Theodore Roosevelt and William Howard Taft were among his regular patrons."  At one point Janssen had two branch Hofbrau Hauses, but the anti-German sentiment during World War I forced him to close them.  By 1928, he operated a restaurant in New Haven, Connecticut and five in Paris.  Janssen died in the Lenox Hill Hospital on November 16, 1939 at the age of 72.

A fascinating resident was Dr. Kristine Mann.  She graduated from Smith College in 1895 and she taught English at the University of Michigan, Vassar College and the Brearley School before turning her attention to medicine.  She studied at the Cornell University Medical College and earned her Doctor of Medicine in 1913.  Dr. Mann's focus was on the conditions of working women.

From 1914 to 1916, she headed an investigation into the physical condition of saleswomen in New York stores.  During World War I, she "represented the Ordnance Department in overseeing the health conditions of women working in munitions plants," according to The New York Times, and from 1920 to 1924, was director of the Health Center for Business and Industrial Women in New York City.  She told a reporter in 1921 in part:

Every woman, whether she expects to marry or not, should possess the feeling of self-reliance which comes with earning a salary.  The young wife who knows that, if necessary, she can resume her place in the business world, has a much greater chance of maintaining an equal part in her household than has a young wife who must rely absolutely on the support of someone else.

In 1925, Dr. Mann began studying with Swiss psychoanalyst Dr. Carl Gustav Jung, returning to Switzerland every three years until 1938.  When Dr. Jung was in America in 1936, he gave a seminar at Dr. Mann's summer home in Maine.  She was still living at 137 East 38th Street when she died at the age of 72 on November 12, 1945.

Living here at the time was songwriter and author Dorothy M. R. Stewart.  Born in Australia, she immigrated to the United States in 1924 and became a citizen in 1938.  Her 1948 song Now Is the Hour, recorded by Bing Crosby, was a chart topper.  But she soon recognized a problem--royalties (or lack thereof) from jukeboxes.

In 1953 she testified before Congress, "When my Now is the Hour was a jukebox favorite, I first became aware that our copyright laws do not provide for compensation to writers for such an obviously commercial use of our works."  Pointing out that dramatic rights were accorded in 1856, and performing rights in 1897, she stressed, "the jukebox industry can well afford to pay a small charge to authors, else they would not spend so much money in putting fancy trappings on the machines that play our music."

Another successful immigrant resident was Albert van Sand, who was born in Denmark in 1881.  A graduate of the University of Copenhagen, he came to America at the age of 20.  He began his career as a dancer, associated with society dancer Vernon Castle.  Then, in 192o, he changed course, becoming editor of the Danish language newspaper Nordlyset (Northern Light).  Six years later he acquired the weekly.

Living here with his wife, the former Rose Delar, Sand helped organize the Free Danish Committee in New York City during World War II.  In appreciation, Denmark bestowed the King Christians Order of Liberation on him in 1947, and a year later he was awarded the Order of Danneborg by King Frederik IX.

The replacement of the casement windows greatly upsets J. M. Felson's restrained Art Deco design.  The building's somewhat unassuming outward appearance belies the often compelling stories that have played out inside.

many thanks to reader Lowell Cochrane for suggesting this post

photographs by the author

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The Dr. Percy C. Mundin House - 164 West 130th Street

 

In the 1880s, architect and developer William J. Merritt erected scores of rowhouses in the Upper West Side and Harlem, nearly all of them in the Queen Anne style.  He completed a row of four such homes at 164 to 170 West 130th Street in 1884.  

Anchoring the group to the east was 164 West 130th Street.  Like its architectural siblings, it was 20-feet wide and three stories tall above an English basement.  Its basement and parlor levels were faced in rough-cut brownstone.  A dog-legged box stoop led to the entrance.  The brick-faced upper floors were dominated by a striking metal oriel, and a shallow slate-shingled mansard was fronted by an offset gable filled with a checkerboard pattern with nubby bosses.

Merritt sold 164 West 130th Street to broker Frank M. Freeman and his wife, Julia B. Freeman.  They remained for just over a decade, selling it on October 7, 1890 to George Edwin Marks for $16,000 (around $553,000 in 2024).

An 1879 graduate of Union University, Marks had married Louisa Ridabock in October 1888.  When they purchased the house, their daughter Frances Louisa was 10 months old.  Another daughter, Anna G., would arrive in 1891; and George Jr. would be born in April 1898.

Marks was a partner with his brother, William L. Marks, in A. A. Marks, the firm founded by their father, Amasa Abraham Marks.  The company manufactured prosthetic limbs.  

This and other illustrations in William L. Marks's 1888 "A Treatise on Marks' Patent Artificial Limbs" show remarkably advanced designs. (copyright expired)

Not surprisingly, given the trio of children in the household, living with the Marks family in 1902 was Margaret Morgan, a "nursery maid."

Around 1905, Edwin Marks sold 164 West 130th Street to the family of Benjamin Guion Glover.  Born in Brooklyn in 1853, Glover married Louise Cromwell in September 1885.  The couple had seven children--four daughters and three sons.  They ranged in age from Beatrice Louise, who was 19 years old in 1905, to Marion V., who was just four.

The Glovers' second eldest daughter was Florence Elsie, born in 1889.  The parlor of the West 130th Street house was the scene of her wedding to Harry Moore Vantine on October 8, 1908.  Beatrice, still unmarried, was her maid of honor.  Marion, now seven, acted as the flower girl.

Like nearly all well-to-do New Yorkers, the Glovers spent the hot summer months elsewhere.  On May 30, 1909, for instance, The New York Times reported, "Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Glover of 164 West 130th Street will also leave town this week for the Summer.  They will go to Bogota, N. J."

By the end of World War I, Harlem had become the center of Manhattan's black community.  In June 1919, Benjamin Glover sold 164 West 130th Street to Dr. Percy C. Mundin and his wife, the former Eva Estelle Christian.  

Mundin was one of a handful of black doctors at the time.  He and Eva were married on June 24, 1902, and he graduated from the New York Homeopathic Medical College and Flower Hospital in 1919 (the same year he purchased the house).  That year in July he was hired by the city as a temporary physician in the Department of Corrections earning $1,600 a year.  (The salary, which would translate to about $28,200 today, was additional income to his regular medical practice.)

Dr. Mundin was a prominent figure in the Harlem community.  Listed in the National Negro Business and Professional Directory in 1923, he was highly involved in the Imperial Lodge, No. 127, of the Improved Benevolent and Protective Order Elks.  He would rise to the office of exalted ruler in the group.

Eva Mundin died on July 8, 1928 at the age of 50.  Dr. Percy Mundin sold the house around 1930.  It became a rooming house, home to respectable tenants.

Among those living here in 1939 was Theodore Daniels.  On June 24 that year, The New York Age reported that a "musical tea" was held in the Daniels' apartment to celebrate the reunion of Class No. 12 of Mother Zion A. M. E. Church.

The house as it appeared in 1941, the year two residents were drafted.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

On April 5, 1941, eight months before the attack on Pearl Harbor would pull America into World War II, The New York Age reported, "The following Harlemites were inducted into the Army for one year of service during the past week."  The list included two residents of 164 West 130th Street--Leroy Robinson and Charles J. McGee.

The following year, on December 26, 1942, the newspaper reported the engagement of resident Rosena Kelsey to Wilton Williams.  Williams's address was listed as "U. S. Army."

Living here in 1952 was the Reilly family.  Pernall Reilly, who was 18 years old that year, was in the wrong place on the night of July 11.  She was passing by the corner of 126th Street and Seventh Avenue (later Adam Clayton Powell, Jr. Blvd.) as another pedestrian, Lewis Hayden, overheard a man using "profane language," as described by The New York Age, "in talking to some women."  Hayden and the man got into an argument which became violent.

The New York Age reported that Hayden, "pulled out a gun on the man, who started to run as Hayden fired four shots."  When his firearm jammed, his intended victim rushed back and fatally stabbed him.  In the chaos, Pernall Reilly was shot in the leg.  She was taken to Harlem Hospital.

A renovation completed in 2003 resulted in an apartment in the basement, a duplex on the parlor and second floors, and one apartment on the third.

photograph by the author

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The Dr. Cornelius Walke House - 213 Second Avenue

 

On September 16, 1848, The Literary American reported that Dr. Cornelius Calvert Walke had married Hannah E. Hitchcock ten days earlier.  The groom was 26 years old and his bride was 22.  Walke, whose first American ancestor arrived in Virginia in the 17th century, came from a distinguished family.  Among his six siblings were statesman Anthony Walke, Rear Admiral Henry Walke, and Judge Thomas Walke.

Hannah was the daughter of Cyrus and Caroline M. Sleight Hitchcock.  The wealthy family lived at 116 Second Avenue.  The neighborhood, slightly north of the exclusive Bond Street district, was lined with brick and stone mansions.  Around the time of his daughter's wedding, Cyrus Hitchcock purchased 213 Second Avenue.  And while the newlyweds moved into the handsome new residence, Hitchcock retained title to the property.

The Walkes' new home, on the northwest corner of East 13th Street, left no question about their social position.  Four stories tall above a high English basement, it was 26 feet wide and stretched back 77 feet.  Its Italianate design included prominent, molded cornices above the windows.  The front facade was faced in brownstone, while the side was brick.  A bracketed cornice with a paneled fascia crowned the design.

In addition to his private practice, Dr. Walke was a censor of the New York Medical College.  (The Board of Censors examined the qualifications of students before their graduation and receiving medical degrees.)  The erudite physician was a member of the American Geographical Society.  He and Hannah (who would have no children) maintained a summer home at Cornwell Landing on the Hudson River.  

By 1869, when the Walkes left 213 Second Avenue, the neighborhood had begun to change.  The mansions along the avenue were being converted for business as recently arrived immigrants swarmed into the area.  The basement level of the Walke house was converted to two shops--a pharmacy and a cigar store--while the upper portion was operated as a rooming house.  An advertisement in the New York Herald on November 22, 1869 offered, "To Let--Furnished, six rooms with kitchen, 213 Second avenue, corner of Thirteenth street.  Inquire in the drug store from 10 to 4 o'clock."  Importantly, the ad did not offer board, but rather the use of the kitchen, meaning that tenants had to fend for themselves for meals.  

Among the residents of the spacious apartments that year was Professor Giulio Posi and his wife, the former Elinor Bellinger.  Born in Italy, The Morning News of Savannah, Georgia said he was a "somewhat conspicuous figure in Charleston during the days which preceded the war."

In December 1869, the cigar store was offered for sale or lease, "with or without stock."  The owner noted, "good reason for selling."  Henry Newport took over the lease, opening his saloon in the space.  He remained until January 1873, when he advertised, "For Sale Cheap--Corner Thirteenth Street and Second avenue, a neatly fitted Liquor Saloon; first rate stand for grocery or oyster saloon.  Apply at 213 Second avenue."

The house was owned by Michael and Juliana Kunzenman at the time.  They rented the store to Jacob Schloeder who re-established a cigar store in the space.  He operated the shop through 1880, when Henry Schmitz took over the business.

Early on the morning of January 8, 1881, Police Officer Martin Boylaton was walking his beat when he "discovered three young men in the cigar-store of Henry Schmitz," as reported by the New York Evening Express.  Boylaton arrested 18-year-old Peter Clark, while his accomplices escaped.  The Daily Graphic said they had "packed up $200 worth of cigars ready to carry away from Henry H. Schmitz's cigar store."  The  value of the potential heist would equal about $6,150 in 2024 terms.

Exactly one month later to the day, Officer Boylaton passed the store and again discovered a burglar.  He nabbed 27-year-old Charles Brown "in the act of preparing for removal of a quantity of cigars," said the New York Evening Express.  The article noted, "Brown, a few days since, was arrested for carrying burglars' tools, but was discharged for want of evidence."

The two close-calls may have prompted Schmitz to close his cigar store.  Later that year he transferred the lease to Mina Herman, who briefly operated a restaurant in the space.  It did not last long, and in 1883 Peter Doelger signed a lease.  His Peter Doelger Brewery operated several saloons throughout the city which served only Doelger products.

While the beer saloon was apparently respectable under Doelger's management, it became less so when Edward McMahon took over the lease.  On March 6, 1888, the New York Press reported that neighbors had testified before the Excise Commissioners, objecting to the renewal of McMahon's license.  The article said they "testified that the saloon had been a resort for loose characters of both sexes."

The neighbors won and in February 1889 Michael Kunzenman hired contractor W. O. Willis to install show windows for the new tenant, John Nydes's drugstore.  Although he personally mixed almost all of his medicines, he gave a testimonial to The Evening World on April 18, 1895, saying, "I do not sell any quantity of prepared medicines, but of all that I handle Paine's celery compound seems to go the best."

Nydes remained in the space until 1897, when he sub-leased the store to Henry Walter, who ran the C. & L. Walter drugstore.

The Kunzenmans' sons, Joseph and Jacob liquidated their parents' real estate holdings, including 213 Second Avenue, in January 1901.  Brothers David, George and Harry Lippman purchased the property, which continued to house the Walter drugstore in the lower level.  The upper portion was still operated as a rooming house by a Mrs. O'Rourke.

In 1906, Henry and Lena Walter purchased the building.  They immediately made renovations, hiring architect Louis C. Maurer in May to alter the interior walls and redo the storefront.  The changes cost the Walters the equivalent of $70,000 in today's money.  It was most likely at this time that the stoop was removed and the residential entrance moved to the side street.

In 1913, the Schick test was developed to determine if a person was susceptible to diphtheria.  On August 12, 1922, the Weekly Bulletin of the Department of Health noted that the Schick test was available at the H. Walters drugstore.

The drugstore was still in the ground floor space in 1941, the lintels were intact and the façade was unpainted.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The second half of the 20th century saw drastic change in the East Village neighborhood.  Henry Walter's drugstore became Nightingale by the early 1980s.  In his 2016 New York Rock, Steven Blush describes it as:

...the East Village dive where Deadheads and High Times types hung out.  There was a long bar on one side, a small stage a foot off the floor on the other, and a pool table in the back.  The likes of Blues Traveler, Spin Doctors, and Joan Osborne blared nightly, with a cover charge of $5 max.

On June 8, 1990, Karen Schoemer, writing in The New York Times said, "Nightingale is every bit as basic as the band.  Except for a devil mask above the bar and a few album covers by regular performers, there is no decoration on its weathered, wood-paneled walls."

After nearly four decades in the space, Nightingale closed in 2013.  Today a restaurant-tavern occupies the ground floor.

photograph by the author

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The Enigmatic 359 Sixth Avenue

 

photo by Jason Kessler

In 1832, Henry Bayard erected a Federal-style, brick faced style house at 55 Sixth Avenue (renumbered 359 in 1925), just south of Barrow Street.  (That spur of Barrow would be renamed West Washington Place the following year.)  Bayard offered it for sale in 1833, describing it as, "the two story Brick House, with slate roof."  It either did not sell or the buyer defaulted and on January 8, 1834 it was sold at auction.  The announcement gives us a detailed description:

The substantial and convenient modern built 2 story brick house and lot, no, 55 Sixth Avenue, one door below Barrow St.— The house is nearly new, covered with slate, and has accommodations for a large family.  In the rear of, and adjoining the house, there is a 2 story brick building, forming convenient apartments opening from each story; besides a subcellar under the principal building, and a spacious and airy kitchen.  There are 11 rooms, six of which are furnished with grates.

(The term "grates" was interchangeable with "fireplaces" at the time.)  The house became home to the Thomas Hardy family.  A merchant, he would not remain here especially long.  An advertisement in The Evening Post on January 16, 1839 offered the house for sale, "in excellent order."  It was purchased by Peter A. Hegeman, who had been living next door at 53 Sixth Avenue for several years.

The family nearly lost their home on June 1, 1848.  The Evening Post reported, "The roof of the dwelling of Peter A. Hegaman [sic], No. 55 Sixth Avenue, took fire about 1 o'clock yesterday, from a spark from an adjoining chimney, which was burning.  Damage about $50."

By 1860, Martha Covert, the widow of Daniel H. Covert, ran a boarding house here.  The few tenants were white collar, like William E. Blakeney, a dentist; and milliner William J. Demarest, who lived here in 1858 and 1859.

Around 1863, the ground floor was converted to a commercial space.  It may have been at this time that the attic was raised to a full floor and pressed metal lintels were installed over the windows.  A handsome Italianate cornice with scrolled brackets completed the make-over.  The removal of the stoop and lowering the first floor to ground level cut the windows of the former parlor level in half.  The remainders were bricked in, resulting in what has been described as a "half-story" above the storefront.

The shop became home to Frederick J. Lindeman's toy store.  It was replaced in 1867 by the Jeitles Brothers "segar" shop, run by Arnold and James Jeitles.

An advertisement appeared in the New York Herald on April 1, 1869, that read, "$700--Partner wanted in a money making business.  $5,000 can be made yearly and no risk.  Inquire of Mr. Smith, 55 Sixth avenue, in the store."  The required investment would translate to more than $16,000 in 2024.  But "Mr. Smith" may well have been a scammer.  The ad appeared in September, signed "Mr. Felton," and again in November, signed "Mr. Wilson."

Mr. Smith, alias Mr. Felton, alias Mr. Wilson, was almost assuredly William H. Brandon, who had taken over the cigar store from Jeitles Brothers.  The Evening Telegram said he was "better known as handsome Billy Brandon, who has figured so often in the police courts of the city that his career is pretty well known to the public."  The newspaper added, "So admirably are his plans concocted that he has never once been convicted."

But Brandon's luck changed in the fall of 1870.  The Evening Telegram described his place of operation, saying, "No. 55 is a cigar store with a sample room back of it."  Late in October, Louis Aguero, a cigarmaker who lived on Bleecker Street, made a sales call.  "Brandon told Aguero that he would take $200 worth of the cigars, and directed him to bring them round," reported The Evening Telegram.  He returned on November 1 and had just laid the goods on the counter when two men barged in brandishing firearms.  The gunmen identified themselves as United States marshals and took Brandon and Aguero into custody.  One took the pair away while the other took charge of the supposedly contraband cigars.

On the way to the stationhouse, the marshal took his captives into a saloon, where Brandon offered him a $30 bribe to be let off.  The marshal accepted and demanded the same amount from Aguero.  "This the Spaniard refused, saying that he wanted to be arrested, in order that he might learn what all this was about," said the article.  He insisted that his cigars had the requisite government stamp and there was no reason for his arrest.  

With that, Brandon and the fake marshal fled.  Aguero saw the "marshal" board a Sixth Avenue streetcar.  He returned to 55 Sixth Avenue, where Brandon told him the other marshal had taken the cigars--worth just under $5,000 today--as evidence.  Aguero's next stop was the office of attorney Abraham Webb.  On November 3, The Evening Telegram reported, "A summons was issued for Brandon, and the case will come for examination at Jefferson Market, when it is to be hoped that Brandon will meet with his just deserts."  The cigar shop was soon taken over by Louis Xigues.

In 1872, the furnishings of the upper floors were auctioned and, it appears, the storefront renovated.  On March 29, 1873, an ad appeared in the New York Herald offering, "To Let or Lease--Three story brick building, with new store and cellar, 55 Sixth avenue, for some respectable business; terms reasonable."  The building was valued at the time by real estate appraiser Nelson S. Flock at $18,000 (about $473,000 today).

The ground floor became home to an "eatinghouse" run by William F. Smallwood and John W. Hill.  The two lived nearby on Sullivan and Thompson Streets, respectively.  Living above the restaurant in 1876 were James H. Mathews, an undertaker, and his wife Caroline.  She ran a laundry in the basement of the building.  The couple would remain at least through 1880.  Also living here that year was Cornelius A. Chrisstoffels, a cigar merchant; machinist Charles Baker; and Michael Doyle, who was a janitor.

 

In 1883, the ground floor of 55 Sixth Avenue was home to A. Freudenhammer's grocery store.  Described by the New York Herald as "a stout, good natured German," he complained to the reporter about scam artists who preyed on small businessmen.  On November 14, 1883, the newspaper quoted him saying, 

I have been in business here three years and I handle everything in the grocery line.  My trade is mostly with poor people and small boarding houses.  Oh, those boarding house people!  What trouble and loss they cause small storekeepers.  I have lost a good deal of money through them.  One landlady skipped off owing me $200.  Another disappeared leaving an unpaid bill of $100.  They play their little game very well, for they move into a neighborhood, run up bills, and then in a few months suddenly cross to New Jersey, where they are out of reach of their grocer, baker and butcher.

 

Freudenhammer was gone by 1893, when the shop was home to George H. Rozelle's butcher shop, the Sixth Avenue Meat Market.  In the meantime, residents came and went upstairs.  Among the most colorful, perhaps, was Elizabeth Bourke, who lived here in 1909.

On June 20, 1909, Mrs. Bourke read a notice in a newspaper that read, "Healthy blonde boy; can't keep; for adoption.  Call afternoons 414 West 19th St."  She answered the ad, telling Alma Williams, who was a widow, that she was "a woman of means, and that her husband was in the West," according to The New York Times, which added, "She told Mrs. Williams she lived at 223 West Seventh-fourth Street."  Elizabeth Bourke took a liking to Charles Williams, described by the newspaper as "a bright, curly headed youngster."  The two women agreed that Mrs. Bourke would adopt him, and Elizabeth promised to bring him around to see his mother every Wednesday.

Later, Alma Williams went to the West 74th Street address and discovered there was no one there named Bourke.  She notified police and a search was begun for Elizabeth Bourke and the kidnapped boy.  A few days later, Detective John McSherry saw a woman matching Elizabeth's description and a curly headed boy walking along Charles Street.  He followed them to the St. Agnes Nursery, where the woman dropped off the boy and left.

The nursery's matron told the detective that the boy's name was Charles Bourke, although she added, "The lady who left him sometimes called the boy, Mary."  She gave him Elizabeth's true address on Sixth Avenue, where she was arrested for kidnapping.

In the Jefferson Market Court, Elizabeth explained she gave the fictitious address to prevent the mother from bothering her.  She still intended to bring the boy around to his mother weekly.  And she also disclosed, "I had a little girl, Mary, who died.  The boy reminds me of her.  I put her clothing on him and at times called him Mary."  The magistrate ruled there was no intention of wrongdoing and the case was dismissed.  The New York Times reported, "Both women left court smiling, and the boy, it was said, would remain with Mrs. Bourke."

In 1919, two college students, Jack Kriendler and Charlie Berns, opened a "cup joint" called the Red Head at 359 Sixth Avenue.  The term referred to a speakeasy in which liquor was served in coffee cups.  Because the renumbering of Sixth Avenue six years later changed 55 Sixth Avenue's address to 359 Sixth Avenue, legend persists that this building was the original home to the speakeasy that would later become the 21 Club.

The ground floor was home to Emma's Rotisserie in 1941.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The ground floor of 359 Sixth Avenue would be a restaurant for the rest of the century.  At mid-century it was Ernesta's, described by Eleanor Early in the 1950 New York Holiday as "a humble place where I have had good food."  It as replaced by Bravissimo.  The 1962 The Mademoiselle Career Girl's Guide to New York described, "Italian specialties, as you might guess, but also Spanish, Indian and international dishes at this crowded, casual Greenwich Village hangout."

A long-term tenant arrived in 1965 when Ida and Ed McLaughlin and Frank Campbell opened McBell's Irish Pub.  Shortly after its opening, on June 17 The Villager columnist Elizabeth Byrd said, "First of all, and very important to me, the restaurant is not self-consciously Irish.  There is no malarkey and there is dignity."  McBell's would become a Village destination, surviving over three decades.

In 2011 Tertulia, a Spanish restaurant, opened.  It was supplanted by a Nikkei restaurant, Llama San in 2019.  

photo by Jason Kessler

In the meantime, the story of a speakeasy in the building was not entirely without foundation.  Long-time Greenwich Village resident Jason Kessler recently told me, "Years ago, you’d go up a flight, and then another short flight.  There was a speakeasy there.  Bookshelf-lined warrens with comfy sofas where you could get credible martinis.  It didn’t last long; I suppose it couldn’t have."

many thanks to Jason Kessler for suggesting this post

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The 1901 Emil Loeb House - 272 West 91st Street

 

In 1897, eight high-stooped brownstone houses were erected on the east side of West End Avenue between 90th and 91st Street--leaving the two corners vacant.  Two years later, the Realty Improvement Co. hired architect Hugh Lamb to design bookend-like mansions on the corners.  Behind each of the West End Avenue homes would be another mansion and, like those on the avenue, they would be mirror-images of one another.

Lamb filed plans in December 1899.  Construction would take two years and cost the equivalent of $925,000 each in 2024 terms. Like its twin on 90th Street, 272 West 91st Street was clad in red brick above a rusticated limestone base.  The Renaissance Revival design included a dignified portico with paired Scamozzi columns.  It was surmounted at the second floor by an arresting Palladian-style window.  A pair of arched openings at this level were centered over the service entrance.  Splayed lintels with layered keystones distinguished the third floor windows.  By separating the fourth and fifth floors with a prominent, bracketed cornice, Lamb created the visual proportions of a four-story mansion.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The mansion was sold in July 1903 to John D. Walton, whose ownership would be short.  He resold it on August 12, 1905 to Emil and Blanche Pulaski Loeb.

Born in Germany in 1864, Emil Loeb arrived in America at the age of 17.  In 1889 he joined with A. B. Loveman and Moses Joseph to form the Birmingham, Alabama department store Loveman, Joseph & Loeb.  It would become the largest department store south of the Ohio River.  Although still associated with the firm, Loeb brought his family to New York City around the time he purchased 272 West 91st Street.

Blanche was born in Philadelphia in 1873 and married Emil Loeb in 1897.  The couple had a son, Louis Melville, born in 1898.  The year they moved into 272 West 91st Street, a daughter, Madeleine H. was born.

It appears the Loebs took an extended trip, almost assuredly to Europe, in 1914.  They advertised the 42-foot wide mansion for rent in August that year, noting, "every room facing the front, three modern baths; electric lights, with beautiful fixtures."  The rent of $2,500 per year would translate to $6,550 a month today.

Like the children of other well-heeled families, Louis and Madeleine attended high-status schools.  Louis graduated from Phillips Exeter Academy in 1915.  He immediately entered Yale University, but temporarily left to serve in the field artillery of the U.S. Army during World War I.  He graduated from Yale in 1919 and enrolled at Columbia Law School that year.

On November 13, 1921, The New York Times reported on the elections of officers of the classes of 1922 and 1923 of the Columbia Law School.  Louis Melville Loeb had been elected treasurer.  He would go on to be a partner in the law firm of Cook, Nathan, & Lehman and the general counsel for The New York Times.  In 1956 he would become president of the New York City Bar Association.

Madeleine, too, would have a successful career.  After graduating from Vassar College, she was a feature writer for Musical Digest Magazine and later conducted a weekly radio program, "Women Review the News."   She did national publicity for a number of organizations, including Anne Morgan's museum for Franco-American cooperation.  Never married, she eventually became a journalist with The New York Times.

In the meantime, Dr. Charles Spivacke purchased 272 West 91st Street in June 1922.  The widowed physician was born in Russia in 1877 and came to America in the 1890s.  He obtained his medical degree from Cornell University in 1899.  By now, he was a leading specialist on allergies and asthma.  

Also living in the house were his two children, Harold and Lucia, and his widowed mother, Taube Spivak. (When Charles changed the spelling of his surname is unclear.)  Taube died in the house on June 26, 1925 and her funeral was held in the drawing room two days later.

Harold Spivacke would have a stellar career.  After receiving his Masters degree from New York University in 1924, he received his Ph.D. magna cum laude at the University of Berlin in 1933.  In 1934 he was appointed Assistant Chief of the Music Division of the Library of Congress and three years later was promoted to Chief.

Dr. Charles A. Spivacke died on November 21, 1943.  His funeral was held in the West End Funeral Chapel on West 91st Street on the 24th.  In reporting his death, The New York Sun recalled that he "aided in the organization of the allergy clinic of the Lebanon Hospital and directed it into becoming one of the largest in the city."  He was, as well, a former president of the New York Physicians Association.

No. 272 West 91st Street continued as a single family residence.  By the late 1970s, it was home to the Moses Dyckman family.  Dyckman operated a jewelry store at 79 West 47th Street.

Every morning before going to work, Dyckman attended the 6:45 services at the synagogue in the basement of 646 West End Avenue, just north of 91st Street.  He would not make it there on September 15, 1981.  That morning the superintendent of the apartment building at 646 West End Avenue saw the 86-year-old crossing the street when a green sedan pulled up and two men forced him in.

The kidnappers took Dyckman (described by the building super as "thin, rather frail") to an abandoned building on East 132nd Street where he was bound, gagged, and tied to a chair with a paper bag over his head.  But they were seen entering the building by neighbors, some of whom investigated after the men left.  The New York Times reported that they "heard Mr. Dyckman moaning, and removed him from the building.  One of them then called the police."

Unaware that Dyckman had been rescued, the kidnappers continued calling his home, eventually negotiating a drop-off point and a scaled-down ransom amount.  News coverage tipped off the crooks and they temporarily escaped capture.  But on October 7, 1981, The New York Times reported that two men had been arrested and a third, whose identity the police knew, was being sought.

A renovation begun in 2019 stripped every inch of historic detail from the interior of the Loeb mansion.  Elegant  staircases, stone mantels, and decorative woodwork were trashed.  Completed in 2023, the remodeling left only the front facade--protected because the house sits within a historic district--intact.

photographs by the author

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