The 1913 The Dallieu - 838 West End Avenue

 

On July 6, 1913, The New York Times remarked that "the west side will always remain the great apartment district of the city, a fact has been doubly pronounced during the past few months by the demolition of rows of fine private residences for towering apartments."  Among those "towering apartments" was the recently completed The Dallieu at the southeast corner of West End Avenue and 101st Street.

Erected by the real estate development firm Julius Tishman & Sons, Inc., it was designed by the fledgling architectural office of Blum & Blum.  George and Edward Blum were nine and twelve years old when they arrived in America from France in 1888.  Educated at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Paris, the Blum brothers' grasp of architectural trends that transcended their Beaux-Arts training—like Art Nouveau and Art Deco—would impact apartment designs in New York. 

For the 12-story The Dallieu, they turned to Arts & Crafts.  Encrusting the two-story base was a sumptuous tapestry of terra cotta tiles of swirling vines, grapes, berries and flowers.  The upper floors were clad in Roman brick, except for the tenth floor.  Its terra cotta panels delineated the midsection from the top.  Iron-railed balconies clung to the facade at the fourth and ninth floor, and a continuous balcony girded the building at the eleventh--its Arts & Crafts-style iron railing a work of art.  A parapet with decorative panels forewent a cornice.

The World's New York Apartment House Album, 1913 (copyright expired)

The apartments ranged from six to nine rooms with three baths.  Rents started at $1,800--about $4,750 per month in 2025 terms.  An advertisement in The Evening Post on August 23, 1913 touted, "These Apartments have unequalled arrangements such as filtered water throughout the building, steam driers on the roof.  Two passenger and two service elevators, thus assuring privacy on each floor by elimination of public halls."  The ad noted that "extra servants' rooms" and private storage rooms were available on the penthouse level.

There were four apartments on most floors.  The World's New York Apartment House Album, 1913 (copyright expired)

Residents of The Dallieu were professionals, like civil engineer John C. Underwood, who graduated from Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in 1862; and Loren Albert Scott, a 1904 Harvard graduate.  Scott was the president of the Hasco Building Company and the Aeon Reality Company.  Adhemer Fieux was a member of chocolate making firm Runkel Brothers, "one of the best known in the trade," according to The New York Times.  Born in Bordeaux, France in 1843, he married Fannie Runkel (the sister of one of his business partners) and the couple had three sons.

Less typical was Alice Redding, another initial resident.  When she divorced Arthur Maurice Werner in 1910, she retook her maiden name.  Alice, who shared the apartment with her two sisters, was pulled into a scurrilous incident in the spring of 1914.  Arthur Werner and his current wife, the former Giulia Morosini, who were married in 1911, lived in a lavish home, Elmhurst, in Riverdale.  Giulia was the daughter of banker Giovanni Morosini, a former partner of Jay Gould.

In March 17, 1914, the Oakland Enquirer reported that Giulia had filed for an annulment.  The heiress barred Werner from the estate.  The Sun said Giulia protected herself by replacing the grounds staff with "about twenty men sent up to Riverdale by the Burns Detective Agency."  Suddenly, Giulia was mysteriously missing.

  

The first and second stories display a dizzying profusion of Arts & Crafts designs.

Suspiciously, authorities could not locate Werner for questioning.  Investigators learned he had been seen at The Dallieu.  The Sun reported on April 6, 1914, "At the home of Werner's first wife, 838 West End avenue, it was said that Werner was not there and had not been seen for two days."  Later that afternoon, a maid said Alice "went out of town."  Reporters returned the next evening and were told the same message.  Finally, Giulia turned up and the press's harassment of Alice ended.  

On October 13, 1914, the New-York Tribune reported on the Connecticut marriage of Lorne Albert Scott to Lutie Wilson Babb the previous day.  Reminding readers that Scott was involved "in various real estate and construction ventures," the article said, "The couple will spend their honeymoon in the South.  After their return they will live at 838 West End av."

The newlyweds' wedded bliss would be short.  On October 24, 1915, The Sun reported that Lutie sued for separation, charging "that it is unsafe to live with her husband, who has a violent and ungovernable temper."

A colorful resident was Charles Francis Phillips, a journalism student at Columbia.  On June 1, 1917, The Sun described him as "22 years old [and] is the son of a manufacturing tailor, who, though foreign born, is rated as a good American."  The previous day, Phillips had been arrested with three other Columbia seniors "charged with conspiring to violate the selective conscription law by urging resistance to the draft."  The article reported that Phillips's father, "said when his son was arrested, 'He got himself into trouble, let him get himself out of it,' but who is expected to relent and do what he can to help the boy through."

Charles Francis Phillips (left) following his arrest.  His father eventually posted the $2,000 bail.  from the collection of the Library of Congress.

Five days later, Charles Phillips was in the news again.  The Sun reported, "Phillips was seen several times yesterday loitering in front of the polling place in his district which is at 823 West End avenue, on the same block with his home, 838 West End avenue."  United States Marshal Thomas D. McCarthy had warned him the previous day "that should he fail to register a new charge would be lodged against him."  When he had not registered for the draft five minutes before the office closed, a warrant was issued and Phillips was again arrested.

Phillips would go on to be a force within the Communist movement.  He fled to Mexico and helped to found the Mexican Communist Party.  He eventually would live in Spain and Nicaragua, using the names Charles Shipman, Frank Seaman, Jesus Saremas, Jesus Ramirez and Manuel Gomez.  Phillips would become secretary of the All-American Anti-Imperialist League.

Joseph M. Simon was described by the New-York Tribune as a "wealthy hosiery and underwear manufacturer, in business at 19 East Twenty-first Street."  In March 1918, the Simons's daughter, Consahoe, eloped with Elwood M. Burgauer in a Municipal Building ceremony after a "romantic and rapid courtship."  Burgauer's father was as member of Kahn & Burgauer, lace importers.

When Joseph Simon discovered the elopement, he and his wife locked Consahoe in her room.  A year later, on July 8, 1919, The Evening World reported, "The only way his wife could tell him [i.e., Elwood Burgauer] how much she loved him was in notes dropped from a window of her father's home at No. 838 West End Avenue."  Elwood Burgauer filed suits of alienation against both of his wife's parents.

In addition to imprisoning Consahoe, as reported by the New-York Tribune, Elwood alleged that Simon, "told her such derogatory stories about his character that her love for him has been destroyed," and "interested his daughter in Christian Science in an effort to make her forget her husband."  The Simons denied having "anything to do with the estrangement of the couple," said The Evening World.

The families in The Dallieu maintained domestic staffs.  The 1920 census showed that of the 45 apartments, 39 of them had live-in cooks.  Among those families were that of real estate operator Bernard Reich.  Not only was he a resident, his firm owned the building.  

Reich was the president of the Marcon Realty Company and the Amri Realty Company.  In 1920, he read the heart-breaking story of a cobbler, Harry Zakow, and his wife who were searching for their lost boy.  The World said that in 1918, 12-year-old Samuel Kefovov (his parents changed their Russian surname to Zakow upon arriving in America) was "separated from his mother who was fleeing [from Odessa] with her five children."

Bernard Reich traveled to Jerusalem in 1921, and visited the Jewish War Orphanage that December.  He talked to a 15-year-old boy whose story was remarkably similar to the one Reich had read a year earlier.  He successfully reunited the family after being three years apart.

Even the service entrance is sumptuously decorated.

Before leaving on his trip to Jerusalem, Reich had made news for his philanthropy.  On April 28, 1921, The Evening World reported, "A drive for funds with which to purchase milk for poor children in this city was started to-day with...a $5,000 contribution by Bernard Reich of No. 838 West End Avenue."  The article mentioned, "Mr. Reich has previously distinguished himself by his generosity toward the penny lunch fund for school children."  

Three years later, Reich and his firm, Amri Realty Company, began acquiring the properties on the block directly south of The Dallieu as a potential development.  Standing in the way was Nat Levine's house at 830 West End Avenue, described by Reich's lawyer, Irving Gordon, as "a key piece" of the project.  Gordon told The New York Age in October 1925 that Levine, "wants to force it onto Mr. Reich at an exorbitant figure." 

When Reich would not agree to Levine's elevated price tag, the homeowner retaliated.  On October 31, 1925, The New York Age reported, "A large sign offering 'Furnished rooms for rent for Negro folks,' appeared last Saturday on the Nat Levine residence at 830 West End Avenue, and the property owners of that good residential section immediately began to worry."  Levine would not respond to reporters' questions other than to ask, "why did Bernard Reich...think he could buy the property at a ridiculously low price?"

Before 1952, the balconies and paneled parapet were in place.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

A renovation completed in 1952 resulted in six apartments per floor on the second and third, and four apartments each on the upper floors.  The penthouse level, formerly servants' rooms and the laundry, was converted to six apartments.  In the remodeling, the balconies were removed and the paneling of the parapet bricked flush.

Despite the regrettable modernization, Blum & Blum's Arts & Crafts building remains among the firm's most striking designs.

photographs by the author

The Lost Union M. E. Church - 227-233 West 48th Street

 

When this photograph was taken in 1907, the church was surrounded by high-stooped brownstones.  photograph by Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

The congregations of St. John's Methodist Episcopal Church and the Bloomingdale Methodist Episcopal Church merged in 1893.  In April 1894, the trustees purchased "two three-story brick dwellings," as described by the Record & Guide, at 227 and 233 West 48th Street for $38,000.  The following month, architects Weary & Kramer filed plans for a "three-story brick church" to cost $60,000 on the site.  The total outlay for the congregation would translate to about $3.5 million in 2025.  George W. Kramer would take the reins for the project.

The cornerstone was laid on October 31.  It held numerous items, including that day's issues of several newspapers, a Bible and Methodist hymnal, and photographs of the trustees.  Seven months later, on June 2, 1895, the dedication services were held.

The New York Times remarked, "The edifice was crowded, and expressions of admiration of its interior architectural splendor were heard on all sides."  Kramer had produced a neo-Classical structure with 17th century precedents.  Its central, temple form featured double-height Ionic pilasters, arched stained glass windows and oculi.  Above the third floor, dominated by grouped openings, was a triangular pediment with neo-Classical carving.  Flanking pavilions, which held the two entrances, were decorated with carvings that echoed those within the pediment.

from The What, How and Why of Church Building, 1897 (copyright expired)

The affluence of the congregation was reflected in its professional choir.  On April 15, 1898, The Jewelers' Circular reported on the appointment of the "tenor soloist," Charles C. Rice.  He had been spirited away from the Church of the Epiphany.  The article said he, "is known in the ecclesiastical musical world as a 'pure English tenor' voice" and had trained "as a chorister in an English cathedral" and in the London Academy of Music.

The Union Methodist Episcopal Church was highly involved in missionary work.  On April 28, 1900, the New-York Tribune reported, "Industrial training was discussed at the Union Methodist Church, in West Forty-eighth-st., yesterday."  Missionaries who had traveled here from as far as Japan and India stressed the need to have organized industrial schools in underdeveloped areas.

A policeman surveys the street from atop of the church stairs.  photograph by Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

The following week, the newspaper reported, "The dawnings of Christianity in Darkest Africa were portrayed with striking effect at the Union Methodist Church," and on November 22, the New-York Tribune announced, "Work among the Chinese women and girls in San Francisco was described yesterday by Miss Margarette Lake at the annual meeting of the Woman's Home Missionary Society, New-York district, in the Union Methodist Episcopal Church."

Just 13 years after the structure was completed, on July 4, 1908 The New York Times reported that plans had been filed for remodeling the church.  They called for a new "ornamental facade of limestone, in Gothic design, with trimmings of terra cotta and bluestone."  For some reason, the major renovation (which would have cost half a million in today's dollars) did not go forward.

In 1912, the neighborhood was experiencing major change.  On June 29, The New York Times remarked, "The side streets in the Times Square vicinity have lost their old residential population and the district has become the theatre and hotel center."  In its June 1913 issue, The Edison Monthly underscored the changes, saying, "The Union Methodist Episcopal Church in West Forty-eighth Street is located in the centre of a block in the heart of the amusement district."

In its article, The New York Times mentioned, "Several offers have already been made for this church property."  But the congregation chose, instead, to remain.  And in an "if you can't beat them, join them" move, the Union Methodist Episcopal Church installed its own massive, Times Square-worthy lighted sign in 1920.  On August 27, The New York Times said, "The biggest electric church sign in the United States is being made for the Union Methodist Episcopal Church...It will aim to outshine all the advertisements of plays, movies, cabarets, gums, prohibition and other joys."

Two months later, on October 4, the newspaper reported, "Bishop Luther B. Wilson of the Methodist church last evening pressed a button and illuminated for the first time a great sign, twenty feet high, in front of the Union Methodist Church."  The article said, "The sign cost cost $3,000, and it is all paid for.  It will cost $1.50 an hour to keep it lighted."

from the collection of the New York Public Library

Continuing the church's adaptation to the neighborhood, Rev. Dr. John G. Benson opened its doors to theatrical figures.  In its August 1921 issue, Equity headlined an article, "Union Methodist Church Welcomes Actors."  Indeed, by now, said Rev. Benson, the "congregation [is] made up mostly of theatrical people and has received into its membership people of the profession."  He added, "Our Social center is always open for the theatrical people."

The social center that Benson mentioned was described by the Directory of Social Agencies that year as "A community center providing reading room, dormitories, noon luncheon for women, clubs, social clinic, movies, etc."  The dormitory, said Benson, "has been filled every night since it was open last October, and most of the time with theatrical girls."

Rev. Benson proactively battled against the prevailing Methodist opposition to the theater.  On March 5, 1921, he invited 50 students from Drew Theological Seminary to the Longacre Theatre to see The Champion.  "Most of them said it was the first time they had seen a stage play," reported the New York Herald.

At some point during the Great Depression, the electric sign was replaced with a much understated version.  via the NYC Dept. of Records & Information Services.

Theaters were devastated by the Great Depression as families spent their money on essentials rather than recreation.  On November 20, 1931, The New York Times reported, "An 'actor' mess kitchen where unemployed theatrical performers may dine without cost will be opened...in the basement of the Union Methodist church."  The Actors Kitchen and Lounge remained for years, although in March 1935 a charge of 30 cents for meals was enacted.  The New York Times remarked that between 300 and 400 guests were accommodated between 5 and 7:30 each evening.

With the Depression over and America fighting in World War II, the former Actors Kitchen and Lounge was revamped as the Servicemen's Lounge.  On May 3, 1943, The New York Times explained that the three-room lounge had been "entirely redone by a woman interior decorator."  The reading room had been renovated, as well.  "More than 100 men attend Wednesday evening, Thursday, and Saturday night dances," said the article."

Newbold Morris (left) and Postmaster Albert Goldman flank actress Audrey Christie as she cut a the Lounge's birthday cake in the Servicemen's Lounge in March 1944.  Army Life, March 1944.

The close relationship between the church and the theatrical community was evidenced on October 5, 1947.  The Actors Studio, which had been organized the prior evening, opened for business here.  It was the first home of the famous organization, which would move several times before settling permanently at 432 West 44th Street.

Two years later, the Union Methodist Episcopal Church was demolished, replaced by a parking lot.  

Kurtzer & Rohl's 1891 192 Spring Street

The Spring Street block between Sullivan and Thompson Streets during the 1830s was lined with frame, Federal-style houses, most with brick facades.  By the last decade of the century, however, as waves of immigrants settled in the district, those venerable dwellings were replaced with multi-family buildings.

On January 19, 1891, the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that August Ruff intended to erect a "six-story brick, iron and stone flat" at 192 Spring Street.  Although Ruff had not yet decided upon an architect, he estimated his project would cost $25,000 (about $864,000 in 2025).  The German-born developer would be responsible for erecting dozens of apartment buildings before his death in 1921.  For this project, he chose two countrymen to design the structure--Frederick William Kurtzer and Richard O. L. Rohl.

Completed before the end of the year, 192 Spring Street was a blend of Renaissance Revival and Queen Anne styles.  The entrance frame rose slightly higher than the stores on either side.  Above its elegant fanlight was a portrait keystone.  A leaded, round opening dominated the upper portion of the frame.  Kurtzer & Rohl embellished the six upper floors with terra cotta decorations--intricate bandcourses, Renaissance-inspired pediments, shell-filled tympana, portrait brackets, and fantastic masks and creatures drawn from German prototypes.

August Ruff was a developer, not a landlord.  Immediately upon the building's completion, he and his wife, Mena, sold 192 Spring Street to Elizabeth and Nicholas Brooks for $48,000.  Equal to $1.6 million today, the price reaped Ruff a satisfying profit.

The original stores were home to Domenico Marziello's barber shop and John E. Rosasco's "milk" store.  Upstairs were four apartments per floor--two in front and two in back.  The initial residents were a blend of new arrivals--their surnames reflecting homelands like Italy, Ireland and even France.  Among those living here in 1897, for instance, were Frank Santomenna and Francis Ramagli, both tailors.  Peter Laffitte and Raoul Bayeux were cooks, and Thomas F. Gallagher worked as a clerk.

No doubt, the residents were terrified on August 10, 1892 when The Evening World reported, "Annie Gavin, fifteen, was found suffering with small pox at her home, 192 Spring street, last night.  She was taken up to North Brother Island."  (Patients of the contagious disease were quarantined in the Small Pox Hospital on the small island in the East River between the Bronx and Riker's Island.)

Living here in 1895 were Irish-born John and Annie McMunn.  The couple had three children, one of whom was an infant.  On February 20 that year, The World reported, "Mrs. McMunn's neighbors say she acts like a mad woman when in liquor."

On the afternoon of February 19, while John was at work, the baby began crying.  The World said, "Mrs. McMunn, in a fit of frenzy, attempted to brain it, but a man who was working in the hallway prevented her."  The ruckus from the apartment attracted a passing patrolman, who took the baby.  Annie McMunn was not yet done.  She picked up a chair and tried to strike her baby.  The New York Times said that had it not been the policeman instead who took the blows, "the little one would have been killed."

The New York Times continued, "Mrs. McMunn vigorously resisted arrest, and it took two policemen to hold her while she was being taken to the station, in a truck."  The World added that she was "taken screaming and struggling to the Macdougal Street Station."  The newspaper reported the following day that John McMunn, "had two of his children committed to the care of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, as he was afraid his wife would harm them."

By May 1904, when Nicholas and Elizabeth Brooks sold the building to John Capinto and Joseph Libonati, almost all the residents were Italian.  When the country entered World War I in 1917, many of the young men in the neighborhood--several of them new arrivals to America--joined the U.S. Army.

Tony Pappone, Dominick Mangieri, Daniel Licciono, and Joe Anella, whose families all lived in 192 Spring Street, were too young to fight.  Instead, they recruited Angelo De Nisco, who lived next door, and hit the pavement to raise money.  Police Sergeant Theodore Ridder came upon the crew on September 14, 1918.  The Sun said, "In their innocence the youngsters were using an American flag as a receptacle and the sergeant took them to the police station at 24 Macdougal street."  The article noted, "Their ages range from 7 to 14 years."

At the police station, "in a kindly way," according to The Sun, the sergeant asked the boys, "What are you going to do with this money?"

One answered, "We're going to buy a service flag."

The sergeant suggested, "Why not give to The Sun Tobacco Fund instead?  Then, the men you want to honor will get smokes."

(The newspaper was currently raising funds to send cigarettes to the soldiers on the front.)

The boys (and their mothers, who had by now arrived) "assented enthusiastically," and the police sergeant escorted the five boys to The Sun office where they proudly contributed their $1.50.  The boys' names were later published along with the other donors.

More than century old Federal-style houses still survived next door to 192 Spring Street in 1941.  via the NYC Dept Records & Information Services.

The neighborhood was still overwhelmingly Italian at the end of World War II.  Joseph Izzo lived here in 1946 when his attempt to earn a living landed him behind bars.  The 30-year-old was a truck driver and when the CIO Retail, Wholesale and Department Store Employees Union went on strike that December, Izzo was hired to make deliveries.

When he drove his truck to the gates of the Strauss Stores warehouse at Maspeth, Long Island on December 18, he was confronted with an angry mob of strikers.  They called Izzo, according to the newspaper PM, "a scab."

Labor conflicts often resulted in violence and this standoff was no exception.  In this case, it was Joseph Izzo who meted out the punishment.  The article said, Paul Millman, a striking saleman, "sustained a broken hip;" a shipping clerk, Harry Samuels, "has rib and spine injuries" and two other picketers "suffered minor injuries."  In the melee, policeman Patrick Norton was also hurt.  Joseph Izzo did not come home that evening.  The article said he, "was arrested and held in $5000 bail on a charge of third-degree assault."

The next day, another resident's name was in the newspapers for a tragic reason.  Despite his advanced age, Joseph Ianatto still worked at A. Imperatrice & Sons, a rag salvage and baling concern at 29 Mercer Street.  On December 19, the 74-year-old was loading heavy bales onto a truck when, as reported by the New York Post, "a bale slipped and struck Ianatto, knocking him to the basement eight feet below and landing on him."  An ambulance attendant pronounced him dead on the scene.

The second half of the century saw change in the Soho neighborhood.  Art galleries, trendy boutiques and cafes little by little transformed its personality.  The movement was vividly exemplified when Trente's Afro-Disiac Boutique opened in one of the stores in 192 Spring Street.  

N.Y. Amsterdam News, April 26, 1969

The other commercial space was occupied from 1968 to 1971 by Old Springs Work Shop.  It handled woodworking projects like refinishing, repairing furniture, framing and such.  According to co-owner Stuart Rudnick, who lived in the building, he and his partner got free rent "for taking out the garbage" in the building.

In the mid-1970s, the Fear Of Art Gallery occupied one of the storefronts, and on June 20, 1989 Fertility, a boutique devoted to fashions designed by Isaia, opened here.

Outwardly, 192 Spring Street is substantially unchanged since newly-arrived immigrants moved into the building nearly 135 years ago.

photographs by the author

The 1889 "Centennial" -- 212 East 25th Street

In the middle of the 19th century, thousands of immigrants poured into the Lower East Side and Kips Bay districts.  Tenement buildings replaced private homes to house the burgeoning population.  In 1888, Philip Koplowsky began construction of three 26-foot-wide tenement buildings.  He seems to have worn three hats--that of developer, builder and architect--for the project.  Completed in 1889, their exuberant design was a blend of Queen Anne and Renaissance Revival styles.  Each was five stories tall above a deep basement.

The center building, at 212 East 25th Street, was called The Centennial, in honor of the 100-year anniversary of the establishment of the country.  Its first floor, clad in brownstone, drew inspiration from the Italian Renaissance with fluted columns upholding smaller pylons that upheld an ambitious, bracketed cornice.  Renaissance-style carvings and grotesque keystones carried on the Renaissance motif.  The upper floors were a happy marriage of Queen Anne and Renaissance Revival with classical brownstone pediments above windows at the third floor that mingled with a terra cotta band of angels.

Each structure wore a bold, pressed metal cornice that set them apart from contemporary tenement buildings.  At 212 East 25th Street, the name "Centennial" was cast between the central brackets.  The substantial cornice was crowned with a decorative parapet that sprouted a square tower.

There were four apartments per floor.  (The two families in the rear had the unfortunate view--and odor--of a large livery stable on East 24th Street.  It was reflected in their cheaper rents.)  Phillip Koplowsky later explained the complicated rent schedule he devised upon opening the Centennial:

The basement was $13.  The first floor front was $19 and $15.  The second floor front was $21 and the rear $15.  The second floor front was $21 and the rear $15, the same as on the first floor.  The next floor up was $20 in front and $14 in the rear.  The fourth floor was $18 in front and the rear was $14.  The top floor was $17 in the front and the rear was $14.

The cheapest and most expensive rents would translate to $444 and $683 per month in 2025.

In 1893, Koplowsky sold the building to David Ohl, whose extended family already lived here.  Louis Ohl took care of managing the building and John and Edward Ohl ran a butcher business on Broome Street. 

While most of the tenants were respectable, like Elizabeth Kohlisch, an initial resident who taught in the boys' department of Grammar School No. 19 on East 14th Street; certain others were not.  On October 26, 1893, The Evening World reported that Annie Spencer had been arrested for running "a disorderly house," or brothel.

Annie's arrest brought consequences to her landlord.  On October 28, the New York Press reported that Edward Ohl had been arrested as part of Captain Gallagher of the East 22nd Street Station's "war on the owners of questionable houses."  It is unclear whether Ohl was aware of Annie Spencer's operation, but he was, nevertheless, jailed for at least two days.

The Ohls were politically connected with Republican figures.  During his campaign for reelection in 1894, Alderman Christian Goetz was arrested on a shocking accusation by a former maid.  On November 5, The Evening World reported that Louisa Zeirer not only sued him for breach of promise, but "of being the father of her unborn child."  The article mentioned that David Ohl had furnished Goetz's $300 bail.

Henry J. Coffee and Herbert Jackson both lived in the Centennial at the time.  On the night of May 17, 1894, police arrested Jackson at his apartment and, simultaneously, Coffee was arrested at the bedside of a dying friend, Henry Holt.  The men were suspected of causing Holt's fractured skull.

Six days earlier, on Saturday night May 11, Holt and Jackson were together when (according to Jackson) a man made an insulting remark at 27th Street and Third Avenue.  When Holt replied, the man "assaulted him."  Henry Coffee, who knew Jackson, helped take the injured man to Bellevue Hospital.  Doctors there told the two that "Holt was more intoxicated than injured," according to The Evening World, and advised them to take him home.  Not satisfied, once they got Holt to his apartment, they called another doctor who discovered the skull fracture.

When the doctor reported Holt's condition, Jackson and Coffee were hauled in as suspects.  Both of their stories matched, and, as reported by The Evening World, after they "said they would assist the detective to capture the assailant," they were released.

In September 1897, Clemens Hubbard and his bride moved into the Centennial.  Clemens worked as a waiter in the upscale Hotel Savoy.

Clemens Hubbard and his new bride.  The World, February 16, 1898 (copyright expired).

On the evening of February 15, 1898, the newlyweds attended a ball held by the Hotel Savoy for its employees at Maennerchor Hall.  The World reported, "Through all the night, Mrs. Hubbard danced gayly.  Hubbard, however, kept with friends in the cafe below."  At around 4:00, Hubbard went to the second floor, saying "he wanted a smoke before he went home."  He lighted a cigar and sat on the railing above the dancefloor while his wife went to gather her things preparing to leave.

The New York Times reported that Hubbard, "lost his balance and plunged headlong to the floor below, striking in a group of dancers."  The World said, "The dancers ran shrieking into the hallway...His friends clustered around him, helpless to aid him."  

The World rather callously depicted the accident.  February 16, 1898 (copyright expired)

Hearing the commotion below, Mrs. Hubbard rushed downstairs to find her husband dead.  The New York Times said, "His wife, to whom he had been married only six months, became hysterical upon learning that the accident had proved fatal, and was taken to her home prostrated."  Adding the obvious, The World said, "The ball ended with the accident."

Among David Ohl's tenants in 1899 was German-born Mrs. G. Wolfram.  (That was, it turned out,  merely the name by which she was known by her neighbors in the building.)  In fact, the 23-year-old was Gertie Beier, described by The New York Times as "very large and blonde."  Gertie had been seeing a 25-year-old barber, Charles Meisgrave, for nearly five years.  They made an unlikely couple--The New York Times saying that Gertie "weighs nearly 180 pounds," while Meisgrave was "almost a dwarf, weighing 90 pounds."

On the evening of November 26, 1900, Charles promised Gertie to take her to dinner and the theater the night before he was to sail to Europe.  But, instead, stood her up.  He appeared at her apartment the next morning, "and I told him what I thought of him for not keeping the date," she told a reporter.  "Then he got mad, and we had a hot quarrel, during which he demanded that I sail for Europe with him."

The New York World reported, "Miss Beier frigidly assured him that he would not only be forgiven but forgotten.  Meisgrave got on his knees at this juncture, and after eloquently enumerating the dinners, flowers and bon-bons of his wooing, begged her at least accompany him to the steamer."  When Gertie laughed at him, his begging for forgiveness turned to rage.  He pulled out a revolver and fired.  "The shot glanced from the woman's head, tearing away a portion of the scalp and spattering her face with blood," said The World.

Meisgrave shot again, grazing the top of Gertie's head, and then a third time, once again only brushing her scalp.  When she recovered from the shock of being attacked, Gertie reacted, and Meisgrave was no match.  She wrested the gun from him and he fled down the stairs.  Gertie, bleeding from her three wounds, was right behind, emerging on the sidewalk in her nightgown.  She was taken to the hospital where her wounds were deemed, "not dangerous."

Officials presumed that Meisgrave had escaped on the steamer on which he had already booked passage and would never be apprehended.  More than two years later, however, on January 3, 1903, Detective Corr received a tip that Meisgrave was in a 14th Street saloon.  He was arrested and appeared in Yorkville Court the following day.  Gertie, by now, was married and once again went by another name, Annie Schmidt.  Meisgrave's lawyer questioned her and "tried to impeach her credibility by asking her if she had not been a street-walker," reported The New York Sun.  The "heated argument" that followed was so chaotic that the magistrate's gavel broke, the head of it flying across the room and striking Meisgrave's lawyer in the right eye.  Meisgrave was held in $1,000 bail.

The Centennial was sold in the liquidation of Daniel's Ohl's  estate on June 4, 1911.  Living here at the time was Prince Albene, a vaudeville magician, described by The Linking Ring in March 1928 as, "a typical dime-museum 'spirit-cabinet' worker."  He and his assistant, Mae LaBrant, appeared as Albene and LaBrant.  His popularity was such that trade journals reported on his illness in 1912.  On October 25, The Player reported, "Prince Albene, of Albene & LaBrant, is able to be about again after having been confined to his apartment at No. 212 East Twenty-fifth street, New York, for the past five weeks of illness."

Emily Fester experienced a terrifying incident on December 18, 1915.  She left the Centennial to go shopping with Elsie Schultz that day.  Elsie was a newlywed, 24 years old and lived at 196 Third Avenue.  She had known William Schmeiden back home in Germany, and six weeks before Emily's and Elsie's shopping trip, he had appeared in New York.  The New-York Tribune reported, "He asked Mrs. Schultz to elope with him and she refused."

In 1941, all three rooftop towers were intact.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

After shopping, the two women went to Elsie's apartment.  They entered the building and Schmeiden appeared in the hallway.  The New-York Tribune reported that Elsie, "fell to the floor at the first shot from his revolver.  The next three bullets went wild...Two more shots directed at his own head ended his life."

Julius Bussinger, who worked as a steward at the Biltmore Hotel, died in mysterious circumstances on November 9, 1921.  His body was found in the areaway of 301 East 44th Street and it was several hours before officials could identify him.  Although there was a wound to his head, his death was deemed accidental.

There are still four apartments per floor in the building.  The 1889 structure is a striking example of Victorian tenement design, with an unsurpassed cornice and top knot.

photographs by the author

The Abused 1894 Bilger Stable - 49 Market Street

Market Street was lined with handsome, brick-faced homes by the late 1820s.  The family of Irish-born Thomas Dunphy occupied 49 Market Street in 1865.  Living in the house with Dunphy and his wife, Julia, were their daughter, Annie, and her husband, Charles Henry Hawkins.

A tragic and bizarre incident happened on December 13, 1865.  The New York Times reported that the 50-year-old Dunphy, "attempted to turn a summersault in his hallway, but fell heavily to the ground instead, fracturing his spinal column, and causing death to ensue."

Charles Hawkins was a butcher at 55 Market Street.  He and Annie continued to reside with Julia.  The couple would have five children, William, Sarah, Anna, Thomas and Richard.  

Following Julia Dunphy's death, the title to the house passed to Annie.  At the time of Annie's death in 1893, the neighborhood of her childhood had severely changed.  Private homes were being razed and replaced with tenement buildings.  In 1894, Charles H. Hawkins hired architect M. Muller to design a three-story stable building on the site of the former Dunphy house.  The structure would cost $10,000 to erect (about $365,000 in 2025).

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Above the expected configuration of the ground floor--a centered carriage bay flanked by a door and a window--Muller flexed his architectural skills.  Incised vertical lines in the brickwork below two bandcourses created the impression of double-height, fluted pilasters.  The cornice was a tour-de-force of the bricklayer's art.  Mimicking an ornate cast metal example, the brackets, dentils, paneled parapet and triangular pediment were all executed in brick.  Identifying the building as a livery stable was a carved horse's head.

Hawkins leased the property to James Bilger.  The lessee, most likely, had little or nothing to do with the business.  He was an established attorney and almost assuredly rented the stable to a proprietor.  In 1902, Thomas Hawkins sold the building to Lowenfeld & Prager.  (Interestingly, James Bilger acted as Hawkins's attorney for the transaction.)

Although in 1920 motorized vehicles had greatly replaced horses in New York City, when Lowenfeld & Prager sold 49 Market Street to Nicosia Bros. Company in August that year, it was described as a "modern stable."  Nicosia Bros. Company dealt in dairy products.  The building housed its delivery vehicles, horses, and its office.

Substantial change came in 1949.  With Prohibition in the rear view mirror, 49 Market Street was converted to a "restaurant, bar and grille" on the ground floor and an American Legion "clubroom" on the second.  In a slipshod attempt at a Mid-Century modernization, a red brick veneer obliterated M. Mullen's 1894 design.  Glass blocks filled the upper portions of the ground-floor openings, a brick diamond-patterned band separated the first and second floors, and the masterful cornice was removed.  The architect was apparently unwilling to destroy the sculpted horse's head, which now poked through the brick veneer.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

In the 1980s and '90s, the former bar space was home to a surprising tenant, Manhattan Custom Tackle.  Here anglers could purchase equipment for fly fishing.

In the early years of the 21st century, the 2,400-square-foot former American Legion space become home to the studio of multimedia artist Spencer Sweeney.  In the summer of 2017, Sweeney moved his studio to West 18th Street with a year left on his lease.  On November 12, 2018, The New York Times journalist Ben Detrick, reported that to make use of the now vacant space, Sweeney and artists Brendan Dugan and Urs Fischer "began inviting friends to the studio to make illustrations of human heads."  Detrick said the "Sunday night salon called Headz resurrected the spirit of Andy Warhol's Factory, the art club area and creative gatherings of yore in a gentrifying downtown where such avant-garde pockets are on the precipice of extinction."

Headz spread by word of mouth.  Nine months after the first gathering, it was "populated by contemporary artists including Kembra Pfahler, Joe Bradley and Alex Bag, improvisational jazz legends, night-life lurkers, skateboarders and Lower East Side teenagers."  At the end of the lease, the art parties ended on July 22, 2018, closing a colorful chapter in the many lives of 49 Market Street.

Today Happy Medium, an "arts club for casual artists," occupies the building.  And after more than 130 years, the stone horse above it all continues to survey the street.

photographs by the author

The 1887 Edward Morrison, Jr. House - 373 West 123rd Street

 

In March 1886, Samuel H. Bailey purchased "the lots of the northeast corner of Ninth avenue and One Hundred and Twenty-third street," as described by the Record & Guide.  Bailey was a developer and builder, and his wife, Mary, E., seems to have been the business end of the partnership.  When Bailey completed a row of houses on the site on April 30, 1887, the titles were listed in Mary's name.

The identical residences were designed by Charles E. Baxter.  Faced in brownstone and three-stories tall above English basements, they were a blend of the neo-Grec and Queen Anne styles.  The double-doored entrances above the sturdy, stone stoops sat within columned porticoes.  The parlor and third floor windows had architrave neo-Grec frames.  Colorful stained glass transoms graced the parlor and second-floor openings.

Baxter introduced Queen Anne at the second floor with curved metal oriels capped with delicate iron cresting.  The metalwork was embossed with jaunty bosses.  Elaborate multi-level, pressed metal cornices completed the design.

via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Baileys rented the houses for a year, before selling the group to Michael Hughes in April 1888.  The price of each of the 16-foot-wide residences was $17,000, or about $562,000 in 2025 terms.

No. 373 West 123rd Street became home to the Edward Morrison, Jr. family.  Morrison was a director in the Central Pacific Railroad.  He and his wife had two children, Beatrice and Edward 3d.

The parlor was the scene of a society wedding at 8:00 on the night of April 4, 1894.  The New York Herald reported, "Miss Fannie Fielding Stewart, daughter of the late Alexander T. Stewart, was married to Mr. William Wallis Young, of Orange, N. J., last evening...at the home of her sister, Mrs. Edward Morrison Jr."  (The sisters' father should not be confused with millionaire drygoods merchant Alexander Turney Steward.)  The article noted, "Little Beatrice Morrison, the bride's niece, was maid of honor, and Masters Edward Morrison, 3d, and Lyle Wallis were pages."

Edward's father visited the family on June 13, 1897.  Edward Morrison, Sr. was a respected stockbroker, having first worked on Wall Street as a clerk when he was 13 years old.  He acquired his seat in the Stock Exchange in 1869.  

Around 5:00 that afternoon, the two Edwards went for a walk.  At the corner of Amsterdam Avenue and Morningside Drive, "the elder Morrison fell to the sidewalk unconscious," according to The Sun.  The 75-year-old was taken to Manhattan Hospital where doctors said he was "suffering from nervous collapse."  The article mentioned that the patient was "well to do."

Morrison, Sr. was sent to his home at West 39th Street to recover.  After a week of convalescing, he was expected to return to his office on Monday, June 21.  But on Saturday, reported The Sun, "he again became very sick and continued to fail."  The broker died two days later.

The following year, on May 5, 1898, 373 West 123rd Street was sold to John and Mary Johnson for $15,500 (about $587,000 today).  The couple had a 14-year-old daughter, Helen.  Living with the family was Mary's niece, Eleanor Frances Weiss (who went by her middle name), who was also 14.  The Sun explained, "Miss Weiss's mother died two years ago and she came to live with Mrs. Johnson."  Frances's father, John Weiss was "a well-to-do wine merchant," as described by The Sun, and lived in Trenton, New Jersey.  The newspaper said that she and Helen "became inseparable companions [and] both attended Public School 14, at 117th street and St. Nicholas avenue."

On Friday March 11, 1899, the two girls asked Mary if they could go downtown to shop after school.  Oddly, that afternoon Frances left school early.  She told Helen she had something to do and asked her to wait for her after school.  Helen waited for an hour, but Frances never returned.  She came home and told her parents what had happened.

Mary Johnson sent a telegraph to Frances's grandmother in the Bronx.  A returned message said she was not there.  At midnight, Mary sent a telegraph to Frances's father.  He had not seen her, either, and asked "for full particulars of his daughter's absence," reported The Sun.

The next morning, a postcard was delivered to the Johnson house.  It said succinctly, "I am alive and well.  Good-by."

Although the card, sent from the post office at 105th Street and Columbus Avenue, was in Frances's handwriting, Mary Johnson was certain she had been abducted.  She told reporters,

Frances was a good girl and I don't believe she is staying away of her own free will.  She had no countenance with any men so far as I know and she was always home with me except when she was at school, and then she was with my daughter.  My own opinion is that some men and women have kidnapped the girl and are keeping her somewhere in the neighborhood of 105th street and Columbus avenue for purposes of their own.

As it turned out, Frances had answered an advertisement and was hired as a chambermaid in a house on West 105th Street.  Her new adventure, however, quickly came to an end.  The detailed description of the teen that was published in all the newspapers caught the eye of her employer, who turned her over to the police.  Frances's foray ended badly for her, and her life with the Johnsons was over.  On March 14, The Sun reported that her infuriated father, John Weiss, "took her to the Harlem Police Court yesterday.  On his statement that his daughter was incorrigible, Magistrate Brann committed her to the Home of the Good Shepherd."

The Johnson family left West 123rd Street that year, renting the house to George A. McDowell and his second wife, the former Jane Carpenter.  George had three children from his former marriage, Fannie, Fred and Alexander H.  (Two other children, Ella and George, had died.)  Moving in with the McDowells was Harry A. Hawkins who, like the McDowells, were members of the Religious Society of Friends, commonly known as the Quakers.

Both men were on the executive committee of the First-Day School Association of the Society of Friends.  The "New York Yearly Meeting of Friends" in 1899 was held in the McDowell house.

By 1903, Alexander H. McDowell was a member of the Society of Chemical Industry.  His scientific profession did not interfere with his religious affiliations and that year he was listed as secretary of the Young Friends' Aid Association.  The New York Charities Directory explained it, "Gives relief in food and clothing to the worthy poor families brought to their notice."  George A. McDowell was the treasurer of the group.

In September 1905, the International Peace Congress was held in Lucerne, Switzerland.  Pacifism is a major proponent of the tenets of the Society of Friends and on July 8, 1905, Friends' Intelligencer reported, "It is desirable that the society of Friends should be represented at the International Peace Congress."  The article said those who wished to contribute funds to sending a delegation should be sent to "Harry A. Hawkins, 373 West 123d Street, New York city, who is treasurer of the General Conference."

George A. McDowell had a scare on December 6, 1912.  The New York Times reported, "A collision between two elevated trains on the sixty-foot high S curve of the Sixth Avenue line in Columbus Avenue near 110th Street, at 10 o'clock yesterday morning caused the injury of ten persons."  The article said, "The three-car train plunged directly into the rear platform of the five-car train, and simultaneously there was a shower of electric sparks and much screaming by the passengers on both trains."  Aboard one of those trains was 72-year-old George McDowell.  The Sun reported he suffered, "nose cut and faced bruised."

Jane McDowell was also involved with charitable work.  An article in The Evening Post on February 15, 1914, explained that the Friends' Employment Society "gives sewing to needy women without regard to race or creed."  The group, organized in 1862, provided unfinished garments to needy women who then completed them.  The women received $1 or $2 per week for their work, which was used in hospitals and day nurseries.  The article said, "please send all contributions to the Treasurer, Mrs. Geo. A. McDowell, 373 West 123rd Street."

In May 1921, the Johnson family sold the house to Delia Trainor.  She leased it to George B. Kiely (who was organizing a girl's semi-pro baseball team in April 1922), before selling it in February 1923 to Louisa G. Hargrave.  The following month, Hargrave sold 373 West 123rd Street to Anna Stroetzel.  The notice in The Sun remarked that she "will occupy."

Wedged between modern structures today, the Morrison house survived as a single-family residence until 1999 when an apartment was installed in the basement.

photographs by the author

many thanks to reader Ted Leather for prompting this post.