The Berkshire Apartments - 500 Madison Avenue

 

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

In 1880, Edward Cabot Clark embarked on a risky endeavor--the erection of the first-class apartment house on Central Park West that he would call The Dakota.  His challenge was convincing potential residents that a multi-family building--considered at the time middle-class at best--could be appropriate to wealthy families.  His solution was to provide apartments that were equal to upscale private homes.

The following year, eight millionaires formed the Berkshire Apartment Association to erect another high-end apartment building, The Berkshire.  Among the shareholders were Alexander Guild; Fletcher Harper, of publishing firm Harper Brothers; and Edward M. Shepard, of the furniture company Stickney & Shepard.  Carpentry and Building explained in September 1881, that it would be a co-operative and said, "It is expected that each of these shareholders will occupy one of the apartments in the Berkshire when the building is completed, and this apartment will be his property permanently."  The other apartments, said the article, "are to be rented out."

The syndicate hired German-born architect Carl Pfeiffer to design the building.  The nine-story structure was completed in 1883.  Pfeiffer's tripartite, Queen Anne-style design sat upon a two-story granite base.  The midsection was faced in "Croton pressed brick, with stone, terra cotta, and molded brick ornamentation," according to Carpentry and Building.  It featured picturesque, paneled bays with curved sides.  The top section harkened to 17th century England or Germany with half-timbering, gables and prominent chimneys.  The flat roof was paved with tiles and "hanging gardens of flowers in ornamented boxes" lined the edges.  Carpentry and Building said that from this "lofty promenade," residents could enjoy views of "Long Island, Long Island Sound, and the Palisades of the Hudson."

American Architect & Building News, August 3, 1883 (copyright expired)

The main entrance on Madison Avenue was accessed above a short, doglegged stoop.  Servants and tradespeople used an entrance in the courtyard at the rear.  

Complex Queen Anne-style upper panes included stained glass inserts.  American Architect & Building News, December 22, 1888 (copyright expired)

The Berkshire held 17 apartments, two each per floor through the seventh, and three on the eighth.  Each resident also had a second servant's room and a trunk room on the ninth floor.  Carpentry and Building explained, "Each of these apartments will consist of a library, a dining room, a parlor, a kitchen, a bath-room, a laundry, a servants' room, abundance of closet room, and four bedrooms."

In the lobby was a marble staircase with "railings of colored marble," according to The American Architect and Building News on August 4, 1883, and two elevators--one for the residents and the other for servants.  The gas fixtures in the apartments were designed to be easily converted to electricity in the future.  The article said, "Every convenience known to modern improvement will be introduced in the house, which is intended to rival the Paris palais in elegance and comfort."

The basement level was outfitted for the janitor's apartment and rental offices for physicians.  The owners of the Berkshire assured that there would be no offensive trashcans and odors.  In the cellar was "an apparatus for cremating the refuse of the kitchen," said Carpentry and Building, which added, "No slop-barrels are to disfigure the sidewalk in front of the Berkshire.  The refuse will all be dried by steam and then burned."

A typical floorplan, with two apartments per floor--left and right.  The American Architect and Building News, January 17, 1891 (copyright expired)

Elevators in the 1880s, of course, did not have the safety measures we take for granted today.  Many of them resembled ornate birdcages, their openwork structures presenting dangers to passengers wearing Victorian garments.  On November 18, 1887, Winifred Egan visited a friend at the Berkshire.  She never made it to the apartment.  The Sun reported that she died from injuries resulting, "by having her dress caught in passing one of the floors while in the elevator."  On January 20, 1888, a coroner's jury, "censured the proprietors of the house for employing an incompetent elevator boy."

Carl Pfeiffer's Queen Anne design carried into the interior, as well.  American Architect & Building News, August 4, 1883 (copyright expired)

An early resident of the Berkshire was millionaire William Marsh Rice and his wife, the former Julia Elizabeth Baldwin, who went by her middle name.  Elizabeth was Rice's second wife, the first having died.  (Interestingly, Elizabeth's sister was the wife of William's brother, Frederick Rice.)

William Marsh Rice, from the collection of Rice University

Born in Springfield, Massachusetts in 1816, Rice's Horatio Alger-type story began as a grocery store clerk.  By 1860 he was reportedly the wealthiest man in Houston, Texas, the owner or part-owner of real estate holdings, lumber firms, railroads, and cotton concerns.  He and Elizabeth moved to New York in 1882.  Their 160-acre country estate was in Dunellen, New Jersey.

According to historian J. T. McCants in his 1955 article, "85 Years of Capitalism: The Story of William M. Rice," the Rices' marriage "was stormy" by the 1890s.  According to McCants, around 1892, Elizabeth "consulted an attorney, A. G. Allen, about a divorce."  She would never obtain that divorce.  A common method of removing a bothersome family member at the time was to have them committed.   McCants said Elizabeth, "died in Waukesha, Wisconsin on 24 July 1896 hopelessly insane."

At the time of Elizabeth's death, Rice's estate was estimated at "about four million dollars," according to McCants.  (The figure would translate to about $150 million in 2025.)  His will, executed in 1891, directed that his massive fortune should be used to found the William M. Rice Institute for the Advancement of Literature, Science and Art in Houston, Texas.  

Rice's valet, Charles F. Jones, had been with him since his Texas years.  The cherished servant discovered the multimillionaire dead in his bed on September 23, 1900.  The death certificate declared his demise the result of "old age and extreme nervousness."  But three days later, The New York Times revealed the first hint that officials were suspicious in reporting, "His body was to have been cremated yesterday morning, but instead after funeral services had been held at the house...it was taken to the Morgue and an autopsy was performed."

American Architect & Building News published this depiction of a Berkshire parlor in August 4, 1833 (copyright expired)

The autopsy revealed that Rice "died of arsenical and mercurial poisoning," reported The Evening World on October 27.  The case had proceeded rapidly and the article disclosed that Charles F. Jones, the trusted valet, and Albert T. Patrick, Elizabeth Rice's former lawyer, had been arrested for murder.

The trial, which became one of the most sensational for decades, revealed that Patrick had forged a new will that left a large portion to himself, and had persuaded Jones to assist in the murder.  On June 9, 1905, The Evening World ran a banner, all-caps headline, "PATRICK TO DIE IN THE CHAIR."  (Instead, however, in 1906 his sentence was commuted by Governor Frank Higgins and in 1912 he received a full pardon from Governor John A. Dix.  Charles F. Jones was not charged.)

William Marsh Rice's fortune, as he intended, was used to found the William Marsh Rice Institute, known today as Rice University.

A ground-floor apartment was advertised for rent in October 1904.  The advertisement described, "parlor, library, dining room, 3 family bedrooms, 3 servants' bedrooms, kitchen, etc.,"  The rent was $4,500 per year--a significant $13,250 per month in 2025 terms.

Among the well-heeled residents of the Berkshire at the time was stockbroker Franklin William Gilley.  Born in 1840, he was elected to the Stock Exchange in 1864.  Gilley was a member of F. W. Gilley, Jr. & Co. and had been treasurer of the New York Stock Exchange since 1895.

By the second decade of the 20th century, many of the mansions in the Madison Avenue neighborhood had been razed for commercial buildings.  The Berkshire was now an architectural anachronism.  On August 17, 1913, The Sun mentioned that "the apartment house known as the Berkshire, at 500 Madison avenue...is now being altered and modernized."  And, indeed, it was.  The renovations stripped the Berkshire of its charming Queen Anne personality.  Without the oriels, gables and half-timbering, it looked as it had been erected a year earlier.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

For about a decade, however, the building continued to be home to wealthy families.  Their names routinely appeared in the society pages that reported on their travels, debutante entertainments, dinner parties and weddings.  Then in 1925 the Berkshire was converted to an upscale residential hotel.

An advertisement in Town & Country on November 1, 1926 said, "to each and every heckled, non-plussed householder--The Berkshire will prove a revelation."  The ad continued, 

Never, does the cook "take a day off"...Never, does Basil, the butler, decide to locate in Chicago to be near his aunt...Never is it necessary to dismiss Marie for impertinence...Never, in fact, do any of those things that heckle and non-plus householders occur...An Arcadian town-house--The Berkshire.

The suites, "as large or small as you wish," were available either unfurnished or furnished.  The furnished apartments had been decorated by B. Altman & Co.  The ad stressed, "And everything--maid and valet service; electric light and refrigeration; meal service in your own rooms, is included in your rental!"

The Berkshire was remodeled to a transient hotel in 1953, and today is known as the Omni Berkshire Hotel.

The New York Academy of Medicine - 1216 Fifth Avenue

 

photograph by Beyond My Ken

As early as 1809, Valentine Mott was recognized internationally as a skilled surgeon.  The doctor successfully performed surgeries that were previously considered impossible.  (The fact that Mott was ambidextrous and could operate with either hand no doubt contributed to his success.)  

On December 8, 1846, Mott and two other influential physicians, Alexander H. Stevens and Isaac Wood, invited the city doctors to a meeting at the Lyceum of Natural History on December 11.  Its goal was to form an association that would, among other objectives, according to The New York Times later, "to furnish a meeting place for physicians where they could freely exchange opinions and compare experiences, so the most advanced ideas of medical men and scientists could get currency and criticism."

The result was the New York Academy of Medicine, founded the following month, on January 6, 1847.  The New York Academy of Medicine initially focused on improving public health, like lobbying for better conditions within the tenement districts.  In 1866, it was influential in the forming of the Metropolitan Board of Health, the precursor of today's Department of Health.

The Academy moved into this structure in 1890.  King's Photographic Views of New York City, 1893 (copyright expired)

By the World War I years, the New York Academy of Medicine had outgrown its headquarters on West 43rd Street.  The association temporarily rented additional space on West 44th Street, directly behind the existing structure.

In 1925, the southeast corner of Fifth Avenue and 103rd Street was acquired and the architectural firm of York & Sawyer commissioned to design a commodious new home for the Academy.  At a time when architectural tastes were moving toward streamlined Art Deco designs, York & Sawyer looked to 11th century Lombardy structures for its inspiration.  

On reporting on the cornerstone laying on October 31, 1925, The New York Times remarked that the cost of the building had been provided by "the half-million dollars and more which the Academy has raised among its own members and friends, the Carnegie Corporation [which] has given $1,550,000 for the new building, and the Rockefeller Foundation $1,250,000 for the endowment of the Academy in order that it may enter upon new activities, including the service of a full-time director, the development of the library service and the maintenance of a bureau of clinical service."

The New York Academy of Medicine building was dedicated on November 18, 1926.  York & Sawyer's overall Lombardian Romanesque design was splashed with elements of Byzantine.  Clad in limestone and sandstone, its tripartite design of the main section included balconies at the third floor.  The bronze-doored entrance sat within an arch of clustered engaged columns, its tympanum filled with bas reliefs of Hygieia, goddess of health, and Asclepius, god of medicine.  The dog figures atop the outermost columns symbolize protection from death and illness, according to the Medical Journal and Record on December 1, 1926.

The Latin inscription above the doorway is one of several inscribed on the facade by Classical authors like Hippocrates, Juvenal, Cicero, Seneca the Younger and Virgil.  photograph by Beyond My Ken

The midsection, above a stone bandcourse, was distinguished by large arched openings at the third floor.  These allowed natural light into the library.  It and the two accompanying reading rooms, accommodated 180 persons.  The Academy's president, Dr. Samuel A. Brown, said, "the academy library occupies the same position regarding medical literature that the Public Library occupies in general literature."  The New York Times added, "It is also rich in rare works on the history of medicine, collections of paintings, documents, surgical instruments and models of original instruments which are of great value."

The openings of the single-story top section sat within handsome arcades on both elevations, and an arched corbel table ran below the cornice.  A three-story wing east of the main building included the auditorium and the library offices.

photograph by Wurts Bros., 1926, from the collection of the New York Public Library.

As the building neared completion, on October 10, 1926, The New York Times said, "Chief among the reasons for the present change are the needs of the library, which has grown from small beginnings into the third greatest medical library in the world."  The library held more than 143,000 books and more than 100,000 pamphlets.  "Proper housing of this material was one of the reasons for the erection of new quarters."

The other floors held "offices, lecture halls and headquarters of medical societies," according to The New York Times.  York & Sawyer had designed the structure, according to the article, so that "additional floors may be added, when needed."  That feature would prove useful in coming decades.

Lectures and addresses--some controversial--were a mainstay in the building.  One of the first was the address by Dr. Nicholas Murray Butler, President of Columbia University, who spoke on "The Physician: the Larger View."  He predicted, "There will be a revolution in medical education, I feel quite certain."  But his envision may have raised a few medical eyebrows in the audience.  Saying that many persons "had become interested in mysticism, orientalism and various forms of faith cure," he suggested these fields would become part of mainstream medical science.

On March 1, 1927, the Academy staged the first exhibition in the country of artworks done by physicians.  The more than 575 works, including sculptures, wood carvings, etchings, and oil and watercolor paintings, were done by 75 doctors, some of whom were well-known in their fields.  Five days later, The New York Times reported that the Physicians' Art Exhibition, planned for two weeks, had already been extended because of public interest.

Complex carved limestone capitals incorporated Medieval faces and varieties of floral species.  photograph by Nylandmarks

The library was augmented in May 1928 by the acquisition of Dr. E. C. Streeter's personal library.  He had amassed the collection, which contained some of the earliest printed works on medicine, over two decades.  Among the rare books, 130 were printed prior to 1501.  The Academy paid $185,000 for the library--about $3.3 million in 2025.  Providing the funds was a collaborative effort.  Individual millionaires like Harry P. Whitney, Clarence A. Mackay, Edward S. Harness, Jeremiah Milbank, and Harry H. Flagler, for instance, contributed.  Fellows of the Academy provided $10,000 and the Rockefeller Foundation donated $85,000.

A two-week study of aging was conducted here beginning in August 1928.  The New York Times reported, "For the first time in the history of medical education in this country, a single subject--the problem of aging and old age--is to be the centre of interest for several thousand physicians who will attend a 'graduate fortnight.'"

One outcome of the sessions was a paper, "Alcohol and Old Age," by Dr. Samuel W. Lambert, President of the New York Academy of Medicine.  Read at a symposium on the problem of aging and old age on October 4 (during the height of Prohibition), it touted the, "beneficial effect of alcohol in old age, as well as the good to be derived from its use by man even before senescence," reported by The New York Times.  As well as urging the moderate use of whisky, wine and beer "as a great value to the aged," Lambert "attacked the Federal restrictions on the prescription of alcohol."

The issues addressed by the Academy, naturally, reflected the social and environmental changes.   Dr. Alvan L. Barach spoke at the Academy on May 14, 1964, for instance, about the city's air pollution.  "Sulphur dioxide and sulphuric acid, he said, were 'the main hazard in air pollution,'" reported The Times.

photograph by Ajay Suresh

The New York Academy of Medicine continues to advocate for public health reform.  Its striking 1926 building has become a major center for health education.  The group's membership of more than 3,000 fellows now includes not only physicians, but nurses, health care administrators and other health professionals.

The 1902 Warrington Hotel - 161 Madison Avenue

 

At the turn of the last century, the era of refined mansions and stately carriages along the Madison Avenue block between 32nd and 33rd Streets had ended.  While the Murray Hill side streets retained their quiet, residential personality, the avenue had been invaded by commerce.

In 1902, developer Frank P. Bloodgood erected a residential hotel on the site of 161 and 163 Madison Avenue.  Designed by Israels & Harder, the 11-story structure cost $300,000 to build, or about $11 million in 2025 terms.  It was clad in red brick and trimmed in terra cotta and limestone above a rusticated stone base.

There were two retail spaces on the ground floor.  Between them was the residential entrance, its elaborate cornice supported by engaged Scamozzi columns.  The Beaux Arts design of the upper floors featured a full-width balcony at the fourth floor.  Supported by oversized stone brackets, it was protected by an ornate iron railing.  Between the brackets were French-style bay windows at the third floor.  Elaborate, foliate terra cotta tiles framed the fourth to eleventh floors, and massive scrolled brackets with wreaths sat at either end of the cornice.

In this fuzzy photo from 1941, the original cornice and over-blown end brackets can be seen.  from the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Occupants of residential hotels signed leases, as in an apartment building.  But the apartments did not have kitchens.  Instead, the residents of the Warrington took meals in the ground floor restaurant, included in the rent.  An advertisement offered, "unfurnished apartments from 2 to 6 rooms and baths; maids' rooms."

Among the first to move in were the Cameron sisters, whose decision to move in highlighted the change in the neighborhood.  On March 4, 1904, the New-York Tribune reported,

Miss Margaret, Miss Catherine and Miss Isabel Cameron, daughters of the late Sir Roderick Cameron, have given up their house at Madison-ave. and Thirty-fourth-st., and have taken an apartment at No. 161 Madison-ave., which they will occupy until they open Clifton Berley, their country place at Rosebank, Staten Island, for the summer.

The names of the affluent residents of the Warrington appeared in the newspapers mostly for engagements, debutante receptions, and deaths.  Elizabeth Flournoy Mariani's taking an apartment in April 1907, however, raised intrigue.

The daughter of the Mayor of Cleveland, Tom Loftin Johnson, Elizabeth (known as Bessie) married Frederico Mariani, "the dashing young Italian," as described by The Evening World, on March 23.  An aspiring writer, The Evening World said, "She was working on a serious drama when she met Sig. Mariani at Monte Carlo."  Calling him, "very good looking and splendidly educated, " the article said, "After they met at Monte Carlo they were much in each other's company at various Continental capitals, and when Miss Johnson returned to her Cleveland home, Mariani soon followed to resume his wooing in America."

Elizabeth "Bessie" Flournoy Johnson Mariani.  (original source unknown)

The couple was married in the Johnsons' "Cleveland mansion with considerable ceremony."  Their first stop on what was to be "an extended honeymoon" was New York City.  But on May 10, The Evening World reported that Bessie, "has been spending two weeks alone at the Hotel Warrington," while her husband of a month, "has been in the seclusion of his former bachelor quarters at Stratford House."  The newlyweds were unable to reconcile.  Elizabeth never remarried and went on to a successful career on the stage.

Bessie's choice, given her later career, was coincidental.  Living among the affluent families here were several theatrical figures.  Among them in 1911 was actor Jameson Lee Finney, who was appearing in The Deep Purple at the time.  In June, the bachelor fell ill and a good friend, Emily D. Jex visited him and "helped to nurse him," according to the New-York Tribune.  The article said Emily was "a wealthy young woman who, with her mother, Mrs. Josiah P. Jex, and her sister, Mrs. Gregory Sutton, lives at the Hotel Plaza during the winter months of each year."

The actor and Emily Jex had known one another for about five years, and he "was often seen with her at the Plaza," said the New-York Tribune.  In July, when he was well enough, Finney went abroad, and he met Emily and her mother and sister there.  

Jameson Lee Finney in costume.  (original source unknown)

Finney remained in London at the Hotel Carlton while the Jex women went "for a tour of the Continent."  On August 10, 1911, The New York Times titled an article, "J. L. Finney, Actor, Dies In London Fire."  A blaze in the Hotel Carlton broke out in the kitchens and rapidly spread upward.  Finney's body was discovered in the bathroom of his suite, "so charred to be beyond recognition," said the article.  A month later, on September 16, 1911, New Yorkers received a shock when the New-York Tribune reported that Finney, "was married less than a month before his death to Miss Emily D. Jex."  The couple had kept their marriage secret.

Another resident with theatrical ties was George Hammond McLean.  Although a well-to-do insurance man (he was vice-president of the Citizens' Fire Insurance Company when he retired in 1903), McLean had several friends in London in the theater.  In 1874, according to the New-York Tribune, he "brought the idea of a Lambs' club from London."  With four friends, they founded the Lambs in New York.

The affluence of the Warrington residents was evidenced by a break-in in the apartment of Samuel Chittenden in 1912.  The family returned on November 2 to discover that $2,000 in jewelry was missing.  The New-York Tribune reported, "The stolen jewels, which were heirlooms, have more than their money value for Mr. Chittenden."  (Nevertheless, their value would translate to about $64,800 today.)  Suspiciously, the elevator man, Charles H. Rosenthal, "disappeared the same day," reported the article.

Two months later, on January 2, 1913, Charles H. Rosenthal, alias Rogers, was arrested in Los Angeles.  Three pieces of the stolen jewelry was found on Rosenthal at the time of his arrest.  Three years earlier, Rosenthal had been arrested in Chicago "for the theft of jewels valued at $30,000 from Helen Dwelle Jenkins," according to the New-York Tribune.

Living here in 1917 were Mary Newman Kennedy and her daughter, Marion.  Mary was the widow of actor H. Custer Kennedy who died in 1914.  Mary issued invitations to Marion's wedding to William Gage Brady, Jr. in October 1917.  The couple was married in St. Bartholomew's Church (where the Vanderbilt family worshiped) on November 10.

Resident Count Edward Zichy upset the wedding plans of young Charlotte Gardiner Demarest and millionaire Max Bernheimer on May 9, 1922.  That day, "a few hours" before the wedding, according to The Evening World, Count Zichy whisked the bride-to-be away and they married at City Hall.   The next day, Warren G. Demarest, Charlotte's father, told reporters, "This whole affair is a great surprise and shock to me."  Although he wanted only his daughter's happiness, he said, "What I most regret is the publicity that has come of it...She is nothing but a child."

On May 18, just a week after the wedding, the Count and Countess returned to the Warrington after an evening out.  "They had dismissed the cab when out of the early morning drizzle there appeared four men who had kept a vigil in the shelter of nearby doorways for more than three hours," reported the New York Herald.  The surprised count was served with a summons in a suit for $1,000 damages for a taxicab and injuries to the cabbie in an earlier collision.  Count Zichy countersued for $1,000 damages to his Simplex speedster.

In September 1924, William C. Orr, Jr. signed a lease for the northerly store for his restaurant.  The other store was home to the Behr, Inc. florist.

A restaurant would occupy the northern store for decades.  It was possibly Orr who severely altered the storefront.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

By the third quarter of the century, the Warrington Hotel, once home to affluent socialites, was operated as a single-room occupancy hotel.  With the change came a series of violent incidents and tragedies.

Among the tenants in the summer of 1970 was 53-year-old Amelia Muhlin.  On July 19 that year, she entered the 14th Street station of the Lexington IRT subway.  As the train entered the station, she threw herself onto the tracks and was killed instantly.

At 4:28 on the morning of December 21, 1971, a fire broke out.  The New York Times reported, "Many elderly people reside at the hotel."  Before the blaze was extinguished, Joseph Blair and his wife, Nancy, who were 57 and 56 years old respectively, were killed.

Saraj Bardharahedya worked here as a maid at the time.  She arrived for work at 9:00 a.m. on December 30, 1972.  Later, complaints were received at the desk that their rooms were not made up.  Neither Saraj nor the laundry basket that she wheeled from room to room could be found.

The New York Times reported, "The police searched for four hours most of the 150 rooms in the old 11-story building."  At one point, they knocked on room 605 and the occupant said he had not seen the maid.  He also refused to divulge his name.

In the afternoon, police retraced their search.  This time no one answered to the knock on room 605.  "As they opened the door they saw the maid's body in the laundry basket," reported The New York Times.  "It had been covered with sheets."

Three hours later, around 8:00 that night, the occupant, James Mitchell, returned.  The 25-year-old who was from Philadelphia, was arrested on charges of homicide and possession of cocaine.

A 13-year-old girl and two 15-year-old friends arrived at the Port Authority Bus Terminal on September 29, 1977 after running away from their homes in Baltimore.  Outside the terminal, they were approached by a man, later identified as Homer Bryant, who offered to find them work.  He brought them to his room in the Warrington Hotel.

There he proposed that they work for him as prostitutes, "promising them large amounts of money and protection," reported The New York Times on November 2.  The two older girls agreed, but the 13-year-old refused.  Bryant sent the other two into an adjoining room, then beat and raped her.

The following day, when Bryant left with the two girls, "to deliver them to a pimp," the 13-year-old escaped.  The only place she knew in Manhattan was the bus terminal.  That afternoon, Port Authority police found her crying on a bench.  Bryant was arrested at the Warrington Hotel "on charges of rape, assault, unlawful imprisonment and endangering the welfare of a minor."  The girl was reunited with her parents.  At the time, the other teens were still missing.

The Warrington Hotel was closed in 1983 for a renovation.  On September 30, The New York Times reported it would be reopened, "But instead of hotel rooms, behind the building's turn-of-the-century facade will be medical offices."

The $12 million gut renovation by developer McFarlane Company resulted in 29 medical spaces.  The ground floor was entirely remodeled, erasing any surviving elements of Israels & Harder's 1902 details.

photographs by the author

The 1827 Daniel Lake House - 68 Prince Street

 

The two dormers were reduced in size in the second half of the 20th century.

Dr. Daniel Lake lived and operated his practice at 68 Prince Street as early as 1830.  The three-and-a-half story house and store had been erected about three years earlier by Patrick Sherryd, one of four similar structures that filled the narrow, southern blockfront between Lafayette Place (later Lafayette Street) and Crosby Street.  Faced in Flemish bond brick, its attic level was pierced with two dormers.

The shop at the ground floor was occupied by David Levi, a "spectacle maker," at the time.  He remained until the spring of 1832 when an advertisement in The Evening Post offered the store for rent.  It became home to Henry Dominick's grocery store.  He and his family shared the upstairs portion of the house with John P. Butler, a coach maker whose factory was nearby at 78 Crosby Street.  

Elizabeth Dominick, Henry's widowed mother, died here on the evening of February 5, 1837.  Her funeral was held in the house two days later.  The Dominick family left Prince Street shortly afterward, replaced by Dr. Jonas G. Hewett.

On October 4, 1837, an announcement in the New York Morning Herald said in part:

BONE SETTING--DOCTOR HEWETT, Bone Setter, informs the public, that such has been the increase of his practice in this city, he is now obliged to confine his operations to his own rooms, No. 68 Prince street, except in cases where patients are too lame to attend.  Such he will continue to visit at their own homes.

The announcement explained that Hewett attended to "dislocations, fractures, sprains, hip diseases, white swellings, nervous, paralytic and rheumatic affections, contractions, curvature of the spine and other deformities, weakness of the limbs, &c."  

By 1840, Hewett had taken an associate, Dr. J. Sweet, who listed his profession as "surgeon bonesetter."  At the time, John P. Butler still lived in the upper floors.

In 1841, the ground floor space became home to the B. & J. Maguire saloon and the Maguire family moved into upstairs rooms.  They shared the space with at least one other resident, Daniel Clark.  That year, on June 1, Hugh Maguire, "son of the late Hugh Maguire," as reported by The Evening Post, died here and his funeral held in the parlor on June 4.  

At around 10:30 on the night of December 16, 1845, Policeman Wright Case was walking his beat on Lafayette Place when, according to the New-York Tribune, he, "heard some person crying murder most lustily."  Case ran to The Bowery and Third Avenue where he found Daniel Clark on the pavement with a severe cut over his eye.  Clark explained to the officer that he had gone into a store to get a $5 bill changed, and was followed by a man who attempted to rob him.  The would-be thief was disappointed, however.  Scared away by Clark's cries, he escaped with only his victim's hat.  The incident prompted the New York Morning Courier to decry, "It is not to be denied...that the city is infested by numerous ruffians, to whom the temptation of a few dollars would be too great to deter them from the commission of any act."

By 1850, John O'Connor, a bricklayer and mason, moved his family into the house.  Around this time, Andre Vincent opened his "framegilding" operation in the former saloon space.  The O'Connor family took in a surprising number of boarders, given the size of the house.  Living with the O'Connors in 1853 were Antonine Chaplain, a "pianofortemaker;" Edward Coffee, a laborer; coachman William B. Coleman; and Peter Kerwin, a tailor.

The O'Connor family would remain at 68 Prince Street for years.  In 1860, Michael O'Connor was working as a police officer, and in 1864 Mary C. O'Connor began teaching in the Primary Department of School No. 20 on Chrystie Street.

The population of 68 Prince Street had decreased by then.  Living with the O'Connors in 1864 were John Brogan, an ostler (a handler of horses); and Mary and William Midgley.  

The Midgleys were an enterprising couple.  Mary ran a millinery and home furnishings shop on Broadway, and her husband was head of William Midgley & Co., artificial flowers, at 331 Canal Street.  (No doubt William's wares found their way into Mary's creations.)  The couple would reside here at least through 1872.

In 1867, the shop was home to one of the two Stigler & Vogt "segar" stores, owned by Charles Vogt and Rudolph Stigler.  Along with  cigars, it sold related items like pipes and tobacco.  Apparently, Stigler or one of the clerks had a musical bent.  On October 1, The New York Times reported that 19-year-old Johnson W. Mitchell had been arraigned on two charges of larceny.  "On Saturday afternoon the premises No. 68 Prince-street were entered, and a guitar and a lot of pipes valued at $43, the property of Rudolph Stigler, were stolen."

An ad in the New York Herald on September 30, 1869 offered "neatly furnished rooms, for one or two gentlemen."  The rent was $2 per week (just over $45 in 2025).

A public auction of all the furnishings was held in the house on February 18, 1874.  Among the items were "black walnut, mahogany and cottage sets," wardrobes, and "lounges."  Everything was sold, including the "stair carpets and oilcloths."  Three years later, on July 12, 1877, the property was sold at a foreclosure auction to Peter Bayaud.  Bayaud purchased the property as an investment.  The store was leased to David Jais, who continued it as a cigar store.

Around 1882, Peter Bayaud moved to Paris.  In February 1883, he leased the building to August Ernst to manage.  The following month, Ernst hired builder J. Derr to make "front and interior alterations," according to the Record & Guide.  The renovations, which cost the equivalent of $22,000 today, were in anticipation of the new ground floor tenant, J. Rubsam & Co., saloon owners.

The Jamm family lived above the saloon in 1894.  There was a snowstorm that winter and on February 12 13-year-old George Jamm went out to shovel snow.  As a horse-drawn street car passed by, the mischievous teen pulled a prank that he would regret.  Riding on the platform of the car was 29-year-old Julius Downs, a bookkeeper.  The young professional would have been dressed dapperly as he headed to work.

As the streetcar passed 68 Prince Street, Downs was smacked with a snowball.  He jumped off the car and accused Jamm, who denied having pelted him.  The Evening World reported, "Downs threw him down, took his shovel away, and struck the boy over the back with it."  George Jamm had Downs arrested for assault.

Theodore L. Bayaud, presumably Peter's son, sold 68 Prince Street in February 1897 to Michael Lapp and Charles Haushalter for $13,500 (about $512,000 in today's money).   Three months later, Charles Haushalter took over the operation of the saloon.

After Charles Haushalter's death in 1900, brewers F. & M. Schaefer & Co. signed the lease.  Adam and Margaretha Lictenberger would run the saloon for Schaefer & Co. for years.  The tavern would, of course, end in 1920 with the enactment of Prohibition.

An interesting tenant in the upper portion rented a room in 1921.  The advertisement he placed in The New York Times on May 8 sounded too good to be real:

To Collectors or Dealers: Gentleman just arrived from Italy with 27 rare oil paintings--originals of great artists of 13th and 16th centuries from the Roman galleries of a princely family.  On view by appointment only.  For information apply Mr. O. Catalucci, 68 Prince St., N. Y. City.

In 1933, with just months before Prohibition was repealed, Charles Danzo leased the ground floor of 68 Prince Street.  It would become home to Charlie's Tavern, a neighborhood watering hole for decades to come.  He and his wife, the former Amelia Rizzo, and their ten children lived above the bar.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Depression treated the Danzos much more kindly than the building's owner, who lost it in foreclosure to the bank.  On January 5, 1938, The New York Times reported that the Metropolitan Savings Bank had sold "the three-story residence" to an investor.

With the country's entry into World War II, John Danzo left to fight in Europe.  At the end of the conflict, Danzo was still stationed in war-worn Paris.  On December 21, 1945, The Sun reported on the G.I.s who were trying to recreate something like an American Christmas.  The long article said in part,

A 100-mile drive to find a Christmas tree was the odyssey of John Danzo, whose mother owns Charlie's Tavern at 68 Prince street, New York.  His buddy, Homer Johnson, of Burkesville, Ky., thrice blitzed in England's air raids, has promised turkey for the party that John is organizing and he has collected eighty pounds of candy for the kids.  Both men hope it will be their last Christmas away from home.  Christmas in Paris has no lure for them.  John, like hundreds of other absent fathers, wants to play Santa Claus for his own 3-year-old boy in New York.

With the Depression in the rear view mirror and World War II over, the Danzo family branched out.  In 1947, they opened the Hotel Charles in Rockaway Beach--an "annex of Charlie's Cafe," as worded in an advertisement in the Wave of Long Island.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Trouble came in September 1967, when undercover officers visited Charlie's Tavern on three separate instances.  In a hearing on February 1, 1968, Officer James Restivo testified that on September 26 the previous year, he and John Danzo, after a "short conversation," looked over the horse racing section of a newspaper.  Then Restivo filled out betting slips and gave them to Danzo along with the money for his bets.  Similar testimonies followed from other police officers.  Charlie's Tavern's liquor license was temporarily suspended for running a gambling operation.

By the mid-1980s, Charlie's Tavern was gone.  Pasquale Ursitti, the widower of Grace Danzo, told The New York Times reporter Gregory Jaynes in January 1988, "They're all dead, Grace and her family.  Five brothers and five sisters."

In 2001, the East Hampton restaurant Hampton Chutney Co. opened a branch at 68 Prince Street.  Its South Indian cuisine drew patrons seeking dosa or uttapa at least through 2016.

Today there are two apartments in the upper floors.  The footwear store Vivaia opened here in 2024.

photographs by the author

The 1929 Tree-Mark Shoe Building (Bowery Ballroom) - 6 Delancey Street

 

photograph by Corey W. Schneider

By the 1890s, many of the Federal-style houses along Delancey Street near the Bowery had been razed or remodeled for commerce.  One that survived in 1898 was 6 Delancey Street.  That year Carl Werner was arrested for operating a "disorderly house" (a brothel) in the premises.  The vintage building would survive nearly two more decades.

On January 17, 1914, the Record & Guide reported that Monroe & Landseidel, "will complete plans for a 2-story brick theatre...to be erected at 6-8 Delancey st. for Earnest Plath."  Variety noted the building would cost $10,000, or about about $315,000 in 2025.  Something went awry, however, and the architects withdrew the plans.  

The project was taken up by the Meyer & Schneider chain of theaters, which hired Lorenz Weiher to design the motion picture house.  Completed that year, the Art Theatre held 500 seats and cost $25,000--more than double that of the earlier design.  It would be renamed twice--to the M. & S. Theatre around 1918 and later The Delancey.

The motion picture theater would not survive especially long.  It was demolished in 1928 to make way for a "one-story brick store" for the Marbitz Realty Corp.  It was designed by Henry Creighton Ingalls for the owner's lessee, the Tree-Mark Shoe Co., Inc.  His plans projected the cost at $30,000 (about $534,000 today).

Founded in 1918, the Tree-Mark Shoe Co., Inc. specialized in orthopedic shoes, custom-made for specific customers with special needs.  The firm staffed its showroom with "podiatrist-salesmen."  

Ingalls had designed several theaters, including the Henry Miller Theatre and The Neighborhood Playhouse.  Completed in 1929, his symmetrical Italian Renaissance design for the Tree-Mark Shoe building smacked of a theater--its entrance placed within a dramatic, double-height arch.  The facade was faced in rusticated limestone, and octagonal openings floated above the show windows.  The frieze below the denticulated cornice was ornamented with stylized fleurs-de-lis.  Tree-Mark Shoes was incised into the stone parapet.

Although it appeared to be a two-story structure from the street, the showroom was technically one.  A mezzanine ran along the sides at what otherwise would be the second floor.  The offices were tucked into alcoves at this level, lighted by the octagonal windows.

Hundreds of boxes lined the walls and a magnificent chandelier hangs above the marble-tiled floor.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the Museum of the City of New York

Although Tree-Mark Shoes was well-known for its orthopedic footwear, it also did a brisk business with ready-made stock.  Aware that the population of the district was heavily Jewish, the firm routinely ran advertisements in Yiddish language magazines and newspapers.

The Jewish Journal, May 20, 1949.

An advertisement in the Brooklyn Jewish Center Review in January 1934 addressed patrons' struggles during the Great Depression. 

For 18 years Tree-Mark has made shoes that sold from $8.50 to $13.50.  And for 18 years people from every part of the city bought them at these prices because they were satisfied Tree-Mark Shoes were scientifically created to serve the cause of healthy feet, without sacrificing style.

But today we are living in a new period, one that requires financial adjustment.  Tree-Mark has therefore made a new model of its famous shoes that is priced at $6.95.

  

Brooklyn Jewish Center Review, October 1934

Tree-Mark Shoes, Inc. prospered here for more than half a century.  The title of an advertisement in The New York Times on October 23, 1979 revealed that the firm still focused on orthopedic problems.  "Hammer-toes?...get a Ghillie!"  The Ghillie model was designed to correct the foot issue and cost $55 (about $230 today).

After being home to a carpeting and a lighting store in the late 1980s through the mid-1990s, in 1997 the property was acquired by the Bowery Ballroom, founded by Michael and Brian Swier with Michael Winsch.  While much of Henry C. Ingalls's interior detailing was lost in renovating it to an performance venue, others were preserved.  The Bowery Ballroom website mentions, "the brass rails, the brass and iron exterior metalwork, the mahogany lined VIP rooms and the coffer-vaulted plaster ceiling of the mezzanine bar" remain.

Among the earliest groups to play here was John Lurie and The Lounge Lizards.  On June 5, 1998, The New York Times reported, "Film-noir rakishness, rippling minimalism and a touch of late-night blues merge in John Lurie's music for the Lounge Lizards."

Wurts Bros. took this photograph in 1930.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The venue continues to be operated by its founders.  Over the years, Bowery Ballroom audiences heard the likes of Patti Smith, Kanye West, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Tony Bennett, Radiohead, and, most recently, Paul McCartney.

The March 2003 Environmental Impact Statement by the Federal Transit Administration's Second Avenue Subway Evaluation praised the Tree-Mark Shoe Building as, "a distinguished example of Italian Renaissance inspired commercial architecture."