The Lost J. D. Mott Mansion -- 2122 Fifth Avenue

The Mott House on November 2, 1936, just months before its demolition by the City.  photograph by Arnold Moses, Historic Americans Buildings Survey, from the collection of the Library of Congress

Jordan Lawrence Mott had a most impressive pedigree.  He was descended from a Norman knight, named La Motte; and his American roots reached back to the 17th century, when Adam Mott arrived in 1637.  He was descended, as well, from William Lawrence, who came to American in 1645.

Mott was born in 1829, to Jordan and Mary Mott.   His father was the owner of the a successful foundry, and owned several patents for cast iron stoves.  He purchased a vast tract of Bronx property in 1840 from the Morris family as the location for his expanding foundry business.  Decades later, as the city expanded northward, it would become known as Mott Haven.

The family lived at the corner of William and White Streets.  Mary died when Jordan was just 9 years old.  His father sent him away to be educated at the Irving Institute, in Tarrytown.  Afterward, in 1846, Jordan, Jr. entered New York University.  But three years later he dropped out when the Gold Rush promised quick riches and adventure.  His pragmatic father offered an ultimatum:

"You may have all the privations and profits of a miner's life without going to California.  You shall live in a tent in my garden, hold no communications with your friends or relatives except by mail, do your own washing and cooking, and be deprived of all that now makes your life enjoyable, and in return I will pay you the average wages of a miner.  Or you can remain at home, in possession of the comforts you now enjoy, with the prospect of succeeding to the business I have established."

Young Mott chose the latter.

He entered his father's business and worked his way up from the lowest position.  When he was made a partner in 1853 the company was incorporated as the J. L. Mott Iron Works.


That same year 1853 young Jordan married Mariana, the daughter of James V. Seaman.  The couple would have three children, Jordan Lawrence, Jr., August Wright, and Marie Louise.  As Mott increased his fortune, Richard Connolly was making becoming rich by far different means.

Connolly started his career quietly and honestly.  Married to Maria S. Townsend, he first worked for an auctioneer, and then as a store clerk.  Things changed when he became Clerk of New York County in 1853 under the Tammany Hall Democrats.  In 1867 he was elected New York City Comptroller and became one of the major players within the infamous "Tweed Ring."   Shady dealings led to his nickname "Slippery Dick" and to the swelling of his bank account.

In November 1871 Connolly purchased land on Fifth Avenue, between 130th and 131st Streets in the newly-fashionable Harlem district.  His choice of architects for his mansion has been lost; but it was possibly A. J. Garvey, the designer of Connolly's "two-story and attic brick stable."

photograph by Arnold Moses, Historic Americans Buildings Survey, from the collection of the Library of Congress

Connolly's mansion would be the last word in domestic architectural fashion.   French Second Empire in style, it was faced in brick and stone and was three stories tall including the high mansard roof.  The formality of the Victorian design was relieved by a charming full-width porch supported by pencil-thin twisted posts, bulging bays to the side, and lacy iron cresting along the roof line.

Victorian urns and jardinieres decorate the approach.  Note the delicate twisted porch supports.  photograph by Arnold Moses, Historic Americans Buildings Survey, from the collection of the Library of Congress

The politician's ill-gained riches enabled him to lavish the interiors with expensive hardwoods, carved mantels and door and window surrounds in the Renaissance Revival style, and stenciled ceilings.

Renaissance Revival woodwork in the drawing room included carved cameos, burl panels and floor-to-ceiling shutters.  The ceiling is elaborately stenciled.  photographs by Arnold Moses, Historic Americans Buildings Survey, from the collection of the Library of Congress

But even as the house rose, Connolly was in deep trouble.  Resolute reformers had been busily exposing corruption within the Tweed Ring.  The month before he purchased the Fifth Avenue lot, The New York Herald reported on an outcry for his retirement or expulsion.  On September 19, 1871 it wrote "As was generally anticipated, Mr. Connolly refused to yield possession of the Comptroller's office;" and in a separate article asked if newly-appointed politicians "remember their own favorite name for the Comptroller, 'Slippery Dick?''

With reformers closing in, Richard and Maria Connolly quietly began shifting ownership of the Harlem properties.  On December 30, 1871 Maria transferred title to two plots with total frontage on Fifth Avenue and 131st Street of 150 feet to Joel A. Fithian (their son-in-law) and Robert C. Hutchings.  The total price was 24,000; or about $480,000 today.   Then they diminished their ownership of the mansion lot--on paper--to one-third.

The transfer of ownership came just in time.  Richard Connolly was arrested on corruption charges and his bond fixed at a staggering half a million dollars.  Maria assembled a group of five relatives and a friend, George Hoffman, to post bond on February 1, 1872.  Among them, of course, was Joel A. Fithian.  The New York Times noted that Fithian, "declined to explain more particularly as to his business, except to say that he earned an honest living."

Richard and Maria's hopes of living in the Fifth Avenue mansion would never come to pass.  On May 13, 1872 the combined owners, including Fithian and Hutchings, sold the house and property from 130th to 131st Street to real estate operators Isaiah Meyer and Simon Wormser for $154,000.

In 1880 Jordan Lawrence Mott moved his family into No. 2122 Fifth Avenue. Because Connolly had never been able to fully complete the house, Mott added modern finishing touches that were now slightly out of architectural character. 

Mott's work to complete the interiors included this Aesthetic Movement fireplace and hearth--strikingly different from the original elements of a decade earlier.  photograph by Arnold Moses, Historic Americans Buildings Survey, from the collection of the Library of Congress

Jordan Mott was highly regarded in business and society.  A member of the American and the New York Yacht Clubs, he was also president of four firms, including the Mott Iron Works.  So despite its location far from Manhattan's social epicenter below 59th Street, the Motts would entertain members of the topmost echelon of wealth and power.

On Friday, February 4, 1893, for instance. Mariana gave "an informal tea in honor of Mrs. French-Sheldon, the African explorer."  The mere concept of a female explorer was thrilling; but May French Sheldon's exploits were even more so.  She had traveled unaccompanied, working her way around the Lake Chala region only with the assistance of natives.

The Mott drawing room was filled with items collected by the explorer.  The New York Times remarked "The guests enjoyed a most interesting account of Mrs. Sheldon's experiences in the Dark Continent."   The names of the thrilled guests read like a Who's Who of New York society: Stokes, Morgan, Mackay, Morrie, Lawrence and Benedict among them.

This splendid mantel and its matching door frame were an interesting marriage of Gothic and Renaissance Revival.  photograph by Arnold Moses, Historic Americans Buildings Survey, from the collection of the Library of Congress

A few weeks later the Motts gave an entertainment that was surprising in its ladies-only guest list.  On March 12 The Times noted "The most unique dinner of the week was that given by Mr. and Mrs. Jordan L. Mott, Jr., on Tuesday evening in honor of Col. William F. Cody--'Buffalo Bill'--at which fourteen ladies, including the hostess, were present, the only men who participated being the host and Col. Cody."


In 1887 Marie Louise had married attorney Charles Fraser MacLean.  The couple lived in the Fifth Avenue mansion with her parents, and shared in the Mott summer estate in White Plains, New York.  Their movements were followed by society columnists, such as the mention on November 30, 1895 that "Mr. and Mrs. Jordan L. Mott and Mr. and Mrs. Charles F. McLean of 2,122 Fifth Avenue have returned to town for the Winter." 

On March 2, 1898 Marianna died in the White Plains house.  Her funeral was held in the Fifth Avenue mansion two days later.

The National Cyclopedia of American Biography described Mott as "of medium stature, rotund and symmetrical physique." 1897 (copyright expired)

When the Spanish-American War broke out that year, Jordan Mott offered the Government the use of his yacht, the Puzzle.  The New York Times later said "this vessel was used as a fast dispatch boat and privateer during the war."

Five years later, in January 1903, Jordan Mott transferred title to the mansion to Charles and Marie Louise.  In reporting on the sale The Real Estate Record & Guide noted "He has been living in the house.  Mr. Mott last week took title to No. 55 East 49th st."  But if he anticipated moving, it does not appear that it ever came to be.

By now Charles had risen to State Supreme Court Justice.  He and Marie Louise entertained often and lavishly.  A notable event was the dinner party in honor of Archbishop John Murphy Farley on May 11, 1904.  The other 14 guests were newspaper reporters who traveled from as far away as Chicago, Baltimore, Atlanta, New Orleans, and San Francisco.

The first floor included enormous entertaining rooms.  Historic Americans Buildings Survey, from the collection of the Library of Congress

The third floor Study was no doubt used by Judge MacLean.  Historic Americans Buildings Survey, from the collection of the Library of Congress

Also living in the house were Jordan, Jr. and his wife, Carolyn Pitkin, whom he married in 1900.  The 23-year old Jordan brought much unwanted publicity to the family in October 1904 when he was sued by an actress for breach of contract.

Christina Marsh, whom The Sun described as "about 20 years old, slightly built, and is a blonde of attractive appearance," appeared in court with her mother on October 29 demanding $25,000 in damages.  The actress poured out her story to the judge, saying she had met Mott "a couple of years ago and they became very friendly."

Marsh insisted she believed him when he said he was single, and that "he assured her that he loved her devotedly."  In March 1903, according to her, he proposed marriage.  The wedding was set for that summer, but he repeatedly postponed it, saying he wanted to finish his studies at Harvard.

Then in April 1904 she was told he was married.  The Sun reported "She could not believe this to be the fact, but on investigation she discovered that he had been a benedick since he was 19 years old."  The reference, easily understood to Edwardian readers, was to Shakespeare's character in Much Ado About Nothing.  The term now meant a married man.

Christina Marsh's allegations were most likely true.  Later, in 1912, Jordan boarded the freighter Indrade as its purser.  The ship was headed to China.  Also on board was light opera singer Mrs. Francis Hewitt Bowne who disguised herself as a male and got a job as a cabin boy.  After Carolyn divorced Jordan, he and Francis were married.

The lever just above the wainscot would have summoned servants.  photograph by Arnold Moses, Historic Americans Buildings Survey, from the collection of the Library of Congress

On July 26, 1915 Jordan L. Mott, Sr. died in the Fifth Avenue mansion at the age of 87.  The New-York Tribune attributed his death to "old age."   His entire family, including Jordan Jr. and his new wife, were at his bedside. 

At the time of his death The New York Times mentioned Mott's art collection, housed in the mansion, which it deeded "one of the most notable in this country."  The article also said "His Fifth Avenue home was for many years a social centre.  Assisted by his daughter, he gave many costly entertainments."

Harlem grew up around the Mott mansion as Marie and Charles MacLean continued their upscale entertainments and lifestyle.  Among their staff was Marie's secretary, a nurse, a butler, a "man of all work," a chauffeur, a cook and "second maid."

Charles died on March 20, 1924.  Marie Louise stayed on in her beloved family mansion surrounded by her loyal staff.   In June 1937 she was interviewed by Wakefield Worcester.   He made note that "In the horse-and-buggy days, she had a negro coachman who with his wife and two children lived in the second story of the coach house.  While the coachman and his wife died some time ago the two children were still living there, rent free."

A bedroom wardrobe was custom designed to meld with the woodwork.  photograph by Arnold Moses, Historic Americans Buildings Survey, from the collection of the Library of Congress

The reason Worcester had stopped by to talk to Marie was because her house was threatened with demolition.  A year earlier Parks Commissioner Robert Moses--well remembered for preferring sometimes outlandish civic improvements over historic interests--had proposed condemning the Mott property for a playground.

There was at least some outcry.  On August 18, 1936 E. L. Hatwood wrote to the editor of The New York Times, calling the property a "beautiful landmark" and saying it "for more than a half century has been an oasis and an eye relief."

Moses was not one to be swayed by sentimentality. Marie, now 82 years old realized she could not win the fight; but asked through her lawyer "only to be permitted to spend the remainder of her aging days in the reminiscent atmosphere of the home given by her father."

Instead, she was evicted.  Marie leased the old Newbold Morris house, at No. 1081 Fifth Avenue at the corner of 89th Street.  In reporting on the lease The New York Times explained on September 22, 1936 "The City of New York is taking over the Mott property for a playground."

Marie Mott MacClean watched as her venerable family home was bulldozed.  She died at No. 1081 Fifth Avenue 10 years later, on July 12, 1946.

photograph by the New York City Department of Parks

The John Vogt & Co. Store - 502-504 Broadway

The private homes of Manhattan's wealthy citizens had moved northward before 1853 when the luxurious marble-fronted St. Nicholas Hotel opened on Broadway between Spring and Broome Streets. The exclusive hotel, which cost about $1 million to construct, would attract handsome retail stores around it.

In 1859 Homer Bostwick hired architect John Kellum to design an upscale emporium building across the street from the St. Nicholas, at Nos. 502-504 Broadway.  Kellum had just dissolved his partnership with Gamaliel King, and was now partnered with his son as Kellum & Son.

The cast iron storefront of clustered columns and regimented arches was manufactured by the Architectural Iron Works.  Its catalogue listed these capitals as "Gothic."  Above, the four stories of white marble were distinguished by two-story arches, separated by slim engaged columns which would later earn the style "sperm candle" because of the similarity to candles made from the waxy substance found in the head cavities of the sperm whale.

Kellum & Son stacked nubby, faceted blocks up the side piers, which provided a somewhat incongruous frame when compared with the otherwise gentle lines of the facade.  Below the stone cornice a corbel table carried on the arched motif.  High above Broadway two stone urns were the finishing touches.

While the building was completed in 1860, the Civil War prevented tenants from moving in until 1866.  That year C. G. Gunther & Sons moved into the top floor.   Described as "The oldest and largest fur house in the United States," it was founded in 1820 by Christian G. Gunther at No. 46 Maiden Lane and remained at that location until now.  The firm, now headed by C. Godfrey Gunther, not only imported raw furs and skins, but manufactured fur clothing and accessories.

In May 1866 china and "fancy goods" dealers John Vogt & Co. moved into the first four floors.  Founded in 1852 it had been operating from William Street.   In its new store, according to the History of New York in 1868, "may now be seen the most magnificent and choice stocks of merchandise" and "an endless variety of curious, chase, quaint, and elaborate designs, and combining superb beauty of shapes, colors, and embellishments with rare excellence of materials and most exquisite workmanship in respect to moulding, carving, etc."

The first floor was the "Porcelain Ware" showroom.  Here well-do-to female shoppers browsed among dinnerware, tea services, and "toilet ware."  The second floor contained "Bohemian and Belgian Glass Ware, Lava Wave, German China, and Parian Marble."  Reproductions of classical statuary suitable for Victorian parlors were available here.  Among the copies available in 1868 were "Cupid captive by Venus; Sybilla, with guitar; Paul and Virginia (from that memorable and pathetic story); [and] Mounted Amazon attacked by a leopard."  The third and fourth floors were used for warehousing stock.

Only four months after John Vogt & Co. opened, disaster struck.  On October 8, 1866 The New York Times reported "A destructive fire occurred in the marble building No. 502 Broadway, on Saturday night.  The building was occupied by C. G. Gunther & Sons, furriers, and John Vogt & Co., dealers in china and glass."  The devastating fire roared through the floors and sparks set St. Patrick's Cathedral several blocks away on Mott Street ablaze.


Damage to the church and "its interior adornments" were estimated at $150,000; while the Broadway emporium was gutted.   The Times reported "the edifice was reduced to ashes."  The losses suffered by John Vogt & Co. and C. G. Gunther & Sons was around $350,000--approximately $5.4 million in 2017.

The History of New York noted "the whole edifice underwent a thorough and costly refitting and adornment."  Undaunted, both companies moved back into the restored building.

By 1872 John Vogt & Co. had left and C. G. Gunther's Sons had expanded throughout the lower floors.  Formerly a wholesale house, it now opened both a men's and a women's store.  On December 28, 1872 an advertisement in Harper's Bazaar offered "Ladies' Furs," an "elegant assortment of seal-skin fur, in all the leading styles of sacques and turbans."

Choosing its audience carefully, C. G. Gunther's Sons placed its ad for menswear that same month in the Army, Navy, Air Force Journal & Register.   The advertisement gave a hint of the wide variety of items manufactured and sold here.  Well-to-do patrons were offered "caps, collars, gloves, gauntlets, etc., including the latest styles in seal skin fur."  There was also a "large and elegant stock of fur robes and skins for carriage and sleigh use" and "seal coats and vests."

Earlier that year, in October, the New-York Tribune dedicated an article to C. G. Gunther's Sons.  It described the luxurious pelts used to create items worn by Manhattan's wealthiest citizens.  "The most costly furs are those made from the Russian and 'Crown' Sable, which always have been and always will be fashionable." The article explained that the term "Crown" sable indicated these were the skins used by the Czar.

The prices quoted were an indication of the C. G. Gunther's Sons' carriage trade customers. "The price of a set, consisting of muff and boa, or collar, varies from $115 to $1,000.  The darker the fur the more expensive, other things being equal."  The cheapest price mentioned would be equal to about $2,300 today; the most expensive about $20,000.

The Tribune's article included mention of the extraordinary number of furs--a list that would shock readers today.  Included were fox, chinchilla, mink, ermine, seal, beaver, monkey, marten, bear, buffalo, wolverine, lynx and wildcat.  The writer decided "the purchasers who cannot find their wants immediately supplied must be difficult to please."

A would-be burglar was attracted to the expensive goods within the store early on a September morning in 1874.  Michael Moreno, described by The Times as "an Italian living at No. 59 Crosby street," was noticed loitering outside by the night watchman.  The guard used a forceful incentive to prompt the Moreno to move on; but was trumped.  "The watchman caught hold of the Italian and drew his club, as if to strike him, when the latter drew a revolver."

Hearing the commotion, Police Officer Corey rushed in.  He grabbed Moreno by the collar, only to find the revolver now pointed at him.  For his bold move Moreno received a "stunning blow on the forehead" by the policeman's baton.

The blow was severe enough that the next morning he was moved from his jail cell to Bellevue Hospital.  But he had not learned his lesson about 19th century law enforcement yet.   The newspaper reported that he was "so threatening" that an officer was called in to help the nurses undress him.  Finally he was placed in a strait-jacket.

If the authorities had searched Moreno for weapons, they missed his knife.  He managed to escape from the strait-jacket then attacked the police officer with the knife.  The policeman "was obliged to use his club to protect himself."  It all ended badly for the combative would-be burglar.  "At a late hour last night Moreno was lying in a dangerous condition in the hospital," reported The Times on September 19, 1874.

Although C. G. Gunther's Sons had returned to the building after the ruinous fire a decade earlier, it would no do so in 1876.  The conflagration of February 8 quickly became known nation-wide as the "Great Broadway Fire."  The Tribune described it in florid Victorian prose saying "The air rushed into the vortex of the ascending flame from every direction, and lifted the fire in gigantic billows that rolled aloft in roaming surges to a great height."

Structures along Broadway collapsed during the massive fire.  Harper's Weekly, February 1876 (copyright expired)

Buildings collapsed, others were gutted.  Nos. 502-504 Broadway was heavily damaged.  The tailor's trimmings firm of Lesher, Whitman & Co. took advantage of catastrophe by quickly purchasing the building.  Three days later, even while The Times remarked "The public interest in the ruins of the buildings destroyed by fire Last Tuesday night was unabated yesterday," it reported "Messrs. Lesher, Whitman & Co. yesterday purchased the premises No. 502 and 504 Broadway, at present occupied by Messrs. C. G. Gunther & Co. as a fur store."

The article explained that Lesher, Whitman & Co. would take over the building "as soon as Messrs. Gunther & Co. shall have removed."  One month later C. G. Gunther's Sons moved into "the new and capacious building No. 184 Fifth avenue" at 23rd Street.

Elegant carriages once waited outside the building as the wives of millionaires shopped for glassware and, later, furs.

Lesher, Whitman & Co. conducted business from the restored building with little fanfare for more than a decade.  The only upheaval seems to have been the ongoing battle with the New York District Rail Company in 1886 and 1887.  The company proposed to build a "railroad underneath Broadway."  Stephen R. Lesher, head of the firm, vehemently fought against it.

It was not until 1889 that trouble came; not through business troubles, but through love.  Stephen Lesher's son, Charles S. Lesher, was 20 years old at the time and still lived in the family's handsome house at No. 330 Madison Avenue.  He was employed by the insurance firm Weed & Kennedy on Pine Street.

The young man became enamored with 28-year old Leonore Mitchell, described by The Times as "a handsome woman."  Shockingly, Lenore asserted that the two were "on intimate terms," and Charles admitted, according to the newspaper, "that he had spent a good deal of his time in her company."

But, according to Leonore, he became fiercely jealous.  It came to a climax when he called on her at her home at No. 21 West 31st Street on March 4.  During the preliminary hearing she declared he "induced her to drink a glass of wine in which he poured a quantity of digitalis."  Soon afterwards she became ill and "was compelled to call in a doctor, who saved her life."

Lesher was arrested for attempted murder.  His accuser appeared in the courtroom on May 14 "fashionably attired and was accompanied by a colored maid, Laura Paul."  She told the court that when he called on her a few days after the incident, he admitted to poisoning her; "but said that he had been drinking, or he would not have done it."

Lesher insisted it was all a lie and that Leonore was simply attempting to blackmail him.  He claimed to have a letter from her in which she confessed to attempted suicide.  His father provided the $1,000 bail pending his court case.

More heartbreak came to the Lesher family six years later when Charles's older brother Stephen visited the family's ranch at Rockwood Station, Texas.  While riding there his horse stepped into a prairie dog burrow and fell, rolling on top of Lesher.   He suffered internal injuries and decided to return to New York "to get competent advice."  Doctors gave him morphine to ease the pain on the trip.

There was no railroad connecting Texas and New York; so Lesher boarded the steamer Neuces.  According to other passengers, when the 35-year old went to his berth at 11:00 on the night of June 18, he was "cheerful."  But when Stephen Lesher, Sr. met the Neuces in New York Harbor four days later he would not be greeting his son, but retrieving his body.  The 35-year old had been found dead in his berth, the apparent victim of an overdose.

At the time Wertheimer & Co., makers of gloves, was also in the Broadway building.  On Christmas Eve 1891 Bloomindale's ran an advertisement noting "Special--We have secured the entire sample stock of Lined Gloves from Wertheimer & Co...Ladies' and Men's, with and without fur tops."  The department store announced that although they were normally priced at up to $2.98 per pair, "We shall put these out as a great Holiday Special at 79c. per pair."  The store warned "Only 1,200 pairs; lingerers may be losers."


Lesher, Whitman & Co. would remain in the Broadway building until 1900.  In the meantime, other firms leased space.  Benjamin & Caspary, cloak makers, were here by 1897.  The firm sent a letter to the Citizens' Union headquarters in October that year, endorsing Seth Low for reelection to mayor.  It said in part "We wish to inform you that we are enthusiastically in favor of the election of Seth Low."

The endorsement may not have been totally unbiased.  Seth Low owned the Broadway building at the time and was, therefore, Benjamin & Caspary's landlord.  The property values along Broadway were an undergoing astonishing boom.  In 1898 502-504 Broadway was valued at $250,000 and a year later at $300,000.

As Lesher, Whitman & Co. moved out, D. Jones & Sons moved in.  The wholesale shirt makers were best known for their "Princely" and "Emperor" brands.  In January 1901 The American Hatter insisted "No shirt buyer can afford to miss this line.  Everything that is desirable in plain, fancy and negligee, or any variety of shirt, is here."

The building was slathered with D. Jones & Sons advertising in 1902.  New York, the Metropolis (copyright expired)

Headed by Dramin Jones, the firm included sons Joseph, Morris and Henry.  Calling itself "the largest producers of popular priced shirts in the world" in 1902, it maintained a massive factory in Johnstown, Pennsylvania.

The company was joined in the building on January 1, 1904 by Meinhard-Cozzens Company, makers and sellers of ladies' neckwear and belts.   "Neckwear" for women in 1904 referred to the high, stiff collars indispensable to a fashionable Edwardian wardrobe.

Meinhard-Cozzens offered a variety of elegant women's collars.  Fabrics, Fancy Goods and Notions, December 1905 (copyright expired)

By 1909 another women's neckwear company had moved in.  Klauber Bros. & Co. advertised "Embroideries, Laces, Neckwear, and Novelties."

In November 1911 when Seth Low sold the building to Charles Lane, the three tenants were still here.  D. Jones & Son was now known as Phillips-Jones Co.; but was still selling its highly-successful Emperor Shirts.  Lane paid Low $251,000 for the property, a price the astonished Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide pointed out was "$194,000 less than the assessed value."

Lane quickly resold the building a month later.  On December 23 the Record & Guide hinted "The buyer is said to be the Coca-Cola Co."  The rumor was colorful but false.  The purchaser was William H. Browning of Browning, King & Co. clothiers.  He told reporters he had not decided what he would do with the property and "that the purchase was merely for investment."

Throughout the next nine years the building continued to house apparel manufacturers.  Philips-Jones employed 150 men, and 23 women in their shirt making shop.  In 1917 another shirt manufacturer, Goodman, Cohen & Co. took 12,500 square feet of space; while Everett, Heaney & Co. dealt in fabrics.

For the first time in decades Nos. 502-504 Broadway was home to just one company when S. Blechman & Sons leased the entire building in July 1920.  Listed in directories as "dry goods distributors," the firm produced hosiery, underwear and other knit goods.  And it found itself at odds with the labor unions several times over the next few years.

In 1934 management won a court order prohibiting strikers from carrying picket signs in front of the building.  When the union refused to comply, S. Blechman & Sons went back to court, asking for a contempt of court ruling.  In a case of deja vu the firm was back in court in 1937 when the union "flouted the injunction which restrained it from carrying signs...asserting that S. Blechman Sons, Inc...was unfair to labor."  The union was fined $250 for that offense.

The following year Simon Blechman commissioned architect Harry Hurwit to design the company's new $65,000 building.  Then in what was apparently a sudden change of mind, it purchased the old Rouss Building at Nos. 549-555 Broadway.

The building was home to Canal Jeans on a much-changed Broadway.  photo by Edmund Vincent Gillon from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The stretch of Broadway had not been the shopping district of the carriage trade for decades.  Until the last quarter of the century its once-elegant buildings would be overlooked and abused.   With the renaissance of the Soho neighborhood, Canal Jeans leased ground floor of 502-504 Broadway in 1992.

Through it all, little changed to Kellum & Son's striking 1860 facade.   In 2003 Bloomingdale's leased the former Canal Jeans store in the building where 112 years earlier it had purchased an entire line of gloves.

photographs by the author

1860 Refinement -- No. 361 West 20th Street

As Clement Clarke Moore sold off building plots within his family’s former country estate, Chelsea, Don Alonzo Cushman and James Wells were greatly responsible for the development of the new neighborhood.  In 1833 Cushman purchased the large property on Ninth Avenue between 20^th and 21^st Street and constructed a commodious home for his family.  Behind was a substantial garden.

Cushman erected rows of speculative, high end homes in Chelsea, such as his distinctive Cushman Row.  Begun in 1839 the string of elegant Greek Revival rowhouses on West 20^th Street between Ninth and Tenth Avenues were just steps away from the Cushman house.

 

Almost two decades later Cushman started another project, three brownstone-faced houses on West 20^th Street directly behind his garden.  Stretching from No. 359 through 355, they rose three stories above English basements.   Tall dormers sat behind the bracketed cornices.  The elaborate entrances and the handsome double doors in their rope-carved enframements spoke of the comfortable financial status of their intended owners.

Two years later Don Alonzo Cushman chose profit over family comfort when he built a fourth, matching house in what was his garden.  No. 361 was completed in 1860, an identical match to its earlier neighbors.

Of the carved facade decoration, only those of the entrance survived the 20th century.

The new house saw a succession of owners.  By the early 1880s William Hastings called it home; followed by Alfred Ogden and his family.  Ogden traced his American lineage to jurist David Ogden (born in 1707).  A historian at the University of Michigan’s William L. Clements Library, where the family’s papers are preserved, later said “During the early years of the Republic, the Ogden family of New Jersey and New York parlayed ability, family, fortune, and political resilience into social and economic power.”

Alfred was born in 1815 in New York City and studied at Columbia College.  He rose to Vice President of the Oriental Insurance Company, a position he held until the firm’s closure in 1886.  He and his wife, Caroline, had two sons.

Ogden was 71 years old when the Oriental Insurance Company was dissolved and The New York Times noted that shortly afterward “his health became impaired.”  Alfred retired, living on in the 20^th Street house with his aging wife and servants.

On February 22, 1898 he died in the 20^th Street house at the age of 83.  In reporting his death, The New York Times reminded readers that he was “of the old New York family of that name.”  His social status was reflected in the fact that his funeral was held in the fashionable Trinity Chapel, and his burial was in the venerable Trinity Churchyard among the graves of Manhattan’s elite.

Just over a year later, on Saturday, December 9, 1899, Caroline died at the age of 79.  As had been the case with Alfred, her funeral was held in Trinity Chapel.

The house became home to Albert D. Horton, who was appointed a City Surveyor in 1910.  By 1920 Dr. F. Homer Curtiss lived here.  A 1909 graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, Curtiss founded The Universal Religious Fellowship, Inc. which attempted to scientifically support the theory of reincarnation.  He issued four pamphlets on the subject which were later, in 1949, combined into a book by the Universal Religious Fellowship entitled simply Reincarnation.

On February 13, 1920 The Pennsylvania Gazette reported that Curtiss would be absent from No. 361 West 20^th Street for an extended period.  The article announced he “is leaving on a transcontinental lecture tour which will probably take him to Australia and around the world.”

Curtiss was followed in the house by another spiritual—if more traditional—type.  On May 22, 1935 the Rev. Felix Lossing Cirlot received his Doctor of Theology degree from the nearby General Theological Seminary in Chelsea Square.  Like Curtiss, he was an author and would publish religious-based books like Christ and Divorce, The Early Eucharist, and Apostolic Succession at the Bar of Modern Scholarship.

When Reverend Cirlot left No. 361 West 20^th Street it was the end of the line for the comfortable house as a private home.  The 1940s saw the once-gracious residence operated as furnished rooms.  Retired postal worker George C. Snead lived here in 1947.  When he returned home late on the night of June 12 that year, he was accosted in the hallway by two men, one armed.

When the thugs discovered that he had only $4 on him, they beat the 60-year old and left him there.   Snead walked to the 20^th Street Station House to report the assault.  While he spoke to the desk sergeant, Detectives Samuel Bress and James Costello were on patrol.  They noticed two suspicious teenagers at the corner of Ninth Avenue and 20^th Street, just steps from No. 361.

The New York Times reported the following day, “Just as the detectives walked up, the two ran.  During the chase, the detectives said, 18-year-old William Dejesus drew a pistol and pulled the trigger three times, but it failed to fire.”

Dejesus and his cohort, 16-year old Henry Williams, were hauled into the station house.  And there was George C. Snead.  The Times reported that the teens admitted the crime and “twenty other hold-ups and a burglary.”  The hooligans were held at $7,500 bail each—a substantial $80,000 today.

The Chelsea neighborhood continued to experience decline and crime at mid-century.  In 1953 Puerto Rican-born Peter Parasi rented a furnished room in No. 361.  The 57-year old had made his living as a dishwasher; but in June that year was out of a job.

Five years earlier Parisi had been injured in a traffic accident and hired attorney Morris Nadel to represent him in a damage suit.  The case was settled out of court on October 25, 1951 for $10,000.  Nadel took half the settlement as his fee.

Now, with his $5,000 spent and without a job, Parisi was desperate.  He applied for home relief from the Welfare Department in 1953.  The agency required documentation of his financial need.  And so on June 18 Parisi went back to Morris Nadel’s office to ask for a letter confirming he was destitute.

While the lawyer’s secretary typed the letter, she heard the two men arguing.   When Miss Analfitano’s intercom buzzed, she responded to Nadel’s office.  She found her employer on the floor with a deep stab wound to the abdomen.   He died within 20 minutes.

Other employees in the office held Peter Parisi who later admitted “losing his temper and knifing the lawyer.”  Parisi would not be returning to his room in the West 20^th Street house.  He was arrested on a charge of homicide.

In 1968 the house was converted to two apartments in the basement and parlor floors, and one each on the floors above. 

Although the brownstone details of the windows have been shaved off—as with the others in the Cushman row—No. 361 retains its original dormers and beautiful entrance.  The carved doors (which survive at No. 357) have been replaced with glass-paned replacements, expected in an apartment building.  Nevertheless, the house that took over Don Alonzo Cushman’s rear garden retains the elegance of a much different, pre-Civil War, West 20^th Street.

photographs  by the author

The "Half House" at No. 152 Spring Street

Close study of the architecture and history of the building sheds doubt on the "half-house" theory.

Shoppers and tourists in Soho are often surprised and delighted by the quirky building at No. 152 Spring Street--what appears to be half a house.  Even the Landmarks Preservation Commission describes it as "the surviving section of a house that has been cut in half."  But architectural forensics and history argue against the charming concept.

All the houses along the blockfront, between Wooster Street and West Broadway, rose simultaneously around 1819.  Built by George Wragg the three-story homes were faced in brick; their peaked roofs distinguished with the dormers expected in the Federal style.

Nos. 152 and 154 were unquestionably separate homes, like their nearly-identical neighbors.  By 1843 No. 152 may have been operated as a boarding house.  The unmarried Eliza Crary lived here that year.  She taught in the "female department" of the School of the Mechanics' Society nearby at No. 32 Crosby Street.

The house next door became a girls' school in the years preceding the Civil War.  On October 21, 1859 an advertisement promised "Ladies requiring the advantages of a rapid and graceful style of penmanship, or private lessons in the English branches, will receive instruction at the academy of Mrs. Broome, 154 Spring street, N. Y."

While Mrs. Broome taught young ladies penmanship, Joseph Grundy established the "Ancient Order of the Grand and Cordial Daughters of Ruth" in No. 152.  The organization was more or less a female version of the Free Masons--at least in theory.   Grundy, who was insultingly described by The New York Times on February 13, 1861 as "a very black specimen of the sons of Ham," had "established various societies, both male and female, the members whereof might recognize each other in any part of the world by [their] signs and tokens."

The Cordial Daughters of Ruth was headed by the "Queen of Queens."  While mainly a female organization, "Tickets of Dispensation" were issued to a few male members.  Grundy charged new members a $1.50 initiation fee; then a matching "constitution" fee.  Any violation of the complex rules of the society resulted in fines.  

Joseph Grundy found himself in court in February 1861, charged with "obtaining money under false pretenses."  A new member of a male society, the "Grand National Compact of United Romans," had become suspicious when he was asked for the constitution fee (the combined initiation and constitution fees would equal about $85 today).  When he asked for his money back, Grundy told him "the treasurer of the Society is out of town, and you will have to wait."

Rather than wait, he summoned the police.

The books of the Cordial Daughters of Ruth were subpoenaed.  An examination, according to The Times, revealed "it appears that the financial bank of the concern is the aggregate of fines, paid in accordance with the following provision, taken verbatim from the book:

All members that don't put in A Penny for Lights in 3 Meetings Shell be fine 3 cents.   Any Brother who shall Spit on the flour shall fine 6 cents.  Any sister laughing shall be fine 12 1/2 cents.  Attested 7 times seven in the holy Cardinal."

Secelia Jackson was found in violation, according to the books.  She was "found 12 1/2 Cents if she didn't have her apron."  Aprons, it seems, were a regulated part of the members' regalia.

Grundy pleaded his own case, despite having counsel.  He explained to the judge that his life had been "devoted to the elevation of his race" and the advancement of temperance.  He said he had learned the secrets of his various orders in Africa and Asia.  His arguments did not sway the judge.

"Mr. Grundy waxed very eloquent, and the perspiration rolled down his cheeks in torrents.  But the Court wasn't convinced, and sent him to the Penitentiary for one month," concluded The Times.

No. 152 continued to house renters throughout the next decade.  In 1874 11-year old Alfred Potter and his father went to Washington Square to see the Fourth of July fireworks display.  They were among the crowd of approximately 5,000 when a near disaster took place.  Sparks from a rocket fell onto a large pile of "rockets, bombs, and other missiles," detonating them.   Exploding fireworks flew in every direction, resulting not only in panic, but injuries.  Young Alfred was struck in the leg by a bomb, but only slightly hurt.

Another boarder was out of work the following year.  In February 1875 he placed an advertisement: "Wanted-By an Englishman, a situation as butler in a private family, or as waiter in a hotel."

In 1882 the elderly attorney John P. Jayne rented at room in the building.  On January 19, 1883 The Sun noted "John P. Jayne, the old claim lawyer of 7 Murray street, has been laid up in his room at 152 Spring street for two months."

By now the ground floor of the former residence had been converted for business.  J. Cavagnaro operated his barbershop from the first floor, renewing his lease in 1885.  The following year he added the sale of cigars to his business. 

The house was owned by the Sternberger family at the time.  When it was sold in March 1887, Henrieta Sternberger owned one-half, and Maurice and Mayer Sternberger the other.  The combined price of $12,000 would be equal to about $308,000 in 2017.  In reporting the sale, The Record & Guide described the property as a "three-story brick store and dwelling."

The buyer, Asher Weinstein & Co. also owned No. 154.  It may have been Asher Weinstein & Co. who made further alterations to both houses.  The ground floor changes included a simple bracketed cornice and, most likely, a shop front that projected to the cornice edge.  Possibly at this time the Federal-style doorway with its fluted columns and transom was removed. 

At some point the peaked roofs with their dormers were replaced by a joined gable; half of which survives.  Its handsome quarter round windows had nothing in common with the original Federal-style architecture.  They would have been expected in side gables of a Georgian house of a generation earlier than these.  Too, close inspection of the brickwork reveals that the running bond of the gable does not match the common bond of the facade below; more evidence that the gable was added later.

Of particular interest (and mystery) are the wide openings of the two upper floors.  No other surviving Federal house on the block has such elements; and their very existence in an 1820s house is highly doubtful.  Federal architecture embraced balance; and there would be no purpose of wide, expensive windows in a residence.  Although the Landmarks Preservation Commission points to the block-paneled lintels at the third floor as "indicating that this was the original window arrangement;" it is perhaps more likely that a long lintel matching the original was fabricated.

The popular Colonial Revival movement at the time could explain both the Georgian-style attic window and reproduction lintels.

The puzzling paneled lintel has extremely crisp carving; unexpected after nearly two centuries of weathering.

Asher Weinstein & Co. company sold both properties in March 1892; but to separate buyers.  Joseph Schultz paid $15,000 for No. 152, then resold it in November 1894 for $18,000.  It was still described as an "old three-story brick house."

The two houses, now apparently mirror images, would not see common ownership again until the 21st century.  Louis Kast not only owned No. 152, he lived there.  The Real Estate Record & Guide referred to it as a "brick store and tenement" in January 1895.  Kast died in his rooms on July 3, 1897 at the age of 44.

The upper floors continued to be rented rooms through the turn of the century.  Teresa Milam lived here in 1904 when three street toughs grabbed her purse containing $8.  The boys, known on the street as "Dope, "Horse," and "Iran," were actually 11-year old Nino Cardina, 9-year old Agostino Marsaco, and 14- year old Louis Eirand.

In Children's Court on September 21 the thieves turned on one another.  The Sun took pains to imitate their unpolished dialect.  The newspaper reported that Eirand (or Horse) told the judge "Me an' Dope ain't done nothin'.  Iran touches de lady for de book.  Me and Dope chases him to get it back for de lady."

Milam's testimony, apparently, said otherwise.  The Sun reported "Justice Olmsted sent Eirand to the Catholic Protectory and let the other two go."

In December 1910 H. Mankin hired architect L. A. Sheinart to design a four-story loft and store building to replace No. 154.  The old house was demolished, leaving No. 152 to appear as just half a house.

In a remarkable foreshadowing of things to come half a century later; in 1933 architect H. Hupfauf designed renovations that resulted in a commercial space on the first floor with a single-family home above.

The transformation of Soho from industrial to artsy in the last quarter of the 20th century brought the W. P. A. restaurant to the ground floor of No. 152.  Now where working men got a shave and haircut in the 1880s weekend tourists sat down to brunch.

W. P. A. gave way to the New Deal restaurant which staged "The Game Festival" in December 1983.  The concept would no doubt raise ire among many today.  New York Magazine reported that the restaurant served "scallopine of lion grandmere, loin of hippopotamus, and rattlesnake salad," among other exotic fare that week.

That restaurant was replaced by Boom in 1994.  Described by New York Magazine as "postmodern Asian in a rain-forest setting," it remained here until 2013.  Recently Nos. 152 and 154 were joined internally to create expansive (and expensive) condominiums.  Today the ground floor houses an upscale boutique.  And the eccentric little off kilter building continues to be a favorite attraction for visitors to Soho.

photographs by the author

Church of the Holy Trinity (St. Martin's Church) - 230 Lenox Avenue

The Lenox Avenue neighborhood above 120th street was one of wealthy professionals in 1888.  Comfortable homes, some worthy to be called mansions, had made this section of Harlem a new upscale suburb.

On May 21 that year The New York Times reported on the ongoing construction of the Episcopalian Holy Trinity Church, at the southeast corner of Lenox Avenue and 122nd Street.  "When completed," the article promised, "this will be a handsome and spacious religious edifice, the material used being Worchester granite and Long Meadow sandstone.  This combination of stone and colors, a reddish hue with the hue of the dove, was a favorite one, it is said, with the architect Richardson."

That Richardson was Henry Hobson Richardson, whose beefy take on Romanesque Revival earned the name Richardsonian Romanesque.  The Times critic was well founded in mentioning him.  After the church's completion, the Real Estate Record & Guide noted "Most observers of the new church will be impressed by its likeness to the works of the late Mr. Richardson, though this is nowhere an imitation."

The architect was William Appleton Potter and his choice of styles was not surprising.  For years he had been supervising architect for the United States Treasury--a post he held until 1877.  He produced civic structures like courthouses, post office buildings and custom houses; and formed a partnership with Robert Henderson Robertson, Potter & Robertson, in 1875.  Robertson was highly influenced by Richardson and his name, too, would be linked to the Romanesque Revival style.

By now Potter had been on his own for seven years.  His Church of the Holy Trinity, completed in 1889, reflected his past works; a masterful design of chunky, undressed blocks; rounded arches; contrasting hues and a dominating bell tower.  While the Record & Guide had asserted it was in no way an imitation of Richardson, it could not help pointing out the similarities.

In describing Potter's "triplets of round arches," the Guide said it "was a favorite feature of Mr. Richardson's."  And regarding the materials--red tile for the roof, red granite as the main material, with "rich brown sandstone" for the trim--the article added "This combination was one of Mr. Richardson's happiest introductions."

Nevertheless, the architect was given his just recognition; several of the elements being termed "novel" and almost all described as "successful."  And both adjectives were used in describing the inside:  "The interior of the church is quite as successful as the exterior, and has much more of the interest of novelty."  The writer explained that the "novelty" was important because it "comes not of an attempt to do something new, but ensues from the effort to meet requirements in some respects novel in the most straightforward way."

Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, October 12, 1889 (copyright expired)

The pews and other furniture were of oak, matched  in the paneling over African marble wainscoting in the chancel.  Potter had commissioned Louis C. Tiffany to decorate the space.  The Record & Guide described "Mr. Tiffany's decoration" as "deep in tone and of a sombre richness.  The richness of the interior has been very judiciously concentrated upon the apse."  The seating area, 90 feet square, church accommodated more than 1,200 worshipers.

The Church of the Holy Trinity was among the first major congregations in the area.  It was organized in 1868 by the Rev. William N. McVickar, when, according to the New-York Tribune later, "that part of the city was taking on active life."  Its first building was erected in 1870 on Fifth Avenue and 125th Street.   King's Handbook of New York City explained in 1892 that it "has enjoyed a continually increasing measure of prosperity, culminating in the present beautiful edifice, and a communicant list of nearly 1,000."

The construction of the magnificent structure brought with it enormous cost.  It would be years before the congregation would pay off its $210,500 debt--an amount equal to nearly $5.6 million today.

Among the congregants was Civil War hero Major General Abram Duryee.  Duryee saw action in the battles of Bull Run, Antietam, and Cedar Mountain, among others.  His service was recognized by Presidents Abraham Lincoln and Andrew Johnson.

Following the war, in 1873, he was New York City Police Commissioner.  It was during his tenure that the police were called out to quell a labor protest in Tompkins Square Park on January 13, 1874.  They attacked the crowd with batons and mounted police charges.  Surprised and defenseless, many were injured and dozens arrested.  The New York Committee for Safety, which had organized the protest, condemned Duryee for having "charged his police upon inoffensive workingmen like so many 'bulldogs.'"

Duyree's response was cold.  According to Richard Hofstadter and Michael Wallace in the 1970 book American Violence, he said "It was the most glorious sight I ever saw the way the police broke and drove the crowd. Their order was perfect as they charged with their clubs uplifted."

When Abram Duryee died at the age of 76 on on September 27, 1890 at his nearby home on 126th Street, New Yorkers preferred to remember his wartime accomplishments.  His funeral in the Church of the Holy Trinity on September 29 was conducted with full military honors.  The Evening World provided a list of the esteemed pall-bearers: including among others General H. T. Tremain, General Hiram Duyrea, General Philip F. Viele, and Colonel Daniel Appleton.  The New York Times remarked that the military attendance of at the funeral was "almost without precedent on any similar occasion."

As with most churches, many of the stained class windows were installed later; gifts of congregants.  One of the most impressive was that donated by Leander H. Crall in memory of his wife.  Designed by Francis Lathrop, who had created the windows and chancel decorations for St. Bartholomew's Church, it was 23 feet high and 7 feet wide.  Depicting "The Adoration of the Magi," it contained 13 life-size figures and was unveiled during Christmas Eve services in 1899.   The critic for The New York Times deemed it "the most satisfactory, and, in some ways, the most artistic that he has yet produced."   He added that the window was "remarkably fine" chiefly due to the "devotional spirit which Mr. Lathrop has breathed into his work, and which is rare in any art work of this material and unpoetic age."

"The Adoration of the Magi" was the center of the three large windows.

As New York City grappled with the push for legalization of alcohol on Sundays, the Rev. Dr. H. P. Nichols chimed in from the pulpit on February 2, 1902 with a surprisingly open-minded attitude.  He pointed out that the Sabbath was reserved for worship and leisure.   But some for some people, leisure included drinking beer; and their only opportunity to do so in those days of six-day work weeks was on Sunday.  The legislation of morals, he proclaimed, was a slippery slope and quoted the Archbishop of York who said "I would rather have England free than England sober."

The contrast of granite and brownstone is seen in this photograph taken by Thaddeus Wilkerson around the time of the church's consecration.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

It was not until New Year's Day 1910 that the church was finally debt-free and, therefore, could be consecrated.  An anonymous check for $35,498 found in the collection plate on Thanksgiving Day had wiped out the congregation's debts.

In 1923 a new organ costing $35,000 was installed.  At the time the demographics of the Harlem neighborhood had been changing for years as black residents replaced white.  Those changes would come to the Church of the Holy Trinity only after a devastating fire nearly destroyed the building.

Around 7 a.m. on April 15, 1925 a passing motorist noticed smoke coming from the windows.  Before long the fire had grown to what The New York Times described as "the most spectacular blaze Harlem has had in years."  Four fire companies responded and battled the flames for three hours.  "The firemen had scarcely started to get inside when the groaning of roof timbers caused them to run for shelter under the stone pillars on the west side of the church.  In a few seconds the roof collapsed."

Thousands crammed Lenox Avenue to watch the horrifying inferno.  When it was finally extinguished The Times wrote "The tower and a mere shell of blackened stone walls are all that remain of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the Holy Trinity."  The organ, the stained glass windows, "said to be art treasures," the bronze and marble baptismal font, the work of Paul Winters Morris--essentially everything inside--were destroyed.

Potter made repeated use of Richardson's "triplets of round arches."

The congregation never returned.  Three years later, on January 15, 1928, the superintendent of the New York Protestant Episcopal City Mission Society, the Rev. Dr. L. Ernest Sunderland announced plans to "rebuild and refurnish" the burned-out building.

The $150,000 project would "make it a social and religious centre for the negroes of Harlem."  The Society announced "The structure, which was badly damaged by fire several years ago, will be renamed St. Martin's Church."  Dr. Sunderland stressed the importance of revitalizing the church, saying that Harlem "is the battleground of good and evil in the negro life of America."

The renovations were completed by summer; but it was not until June 5, 1932 that the church was officially dedicated.  Bishop William T. Manning conducted the services.  The formal name of the edifice sounds shockingly racist to 21st century minds: the Protest Episcopal Church of St. Martin for Negroes."

In his remarks Manning attempted to prove he was racially unprejudiced; with remarkable failure at least by today's viewpoint.   His comments about "my own close association with your race" were the near-equivalent of "some of my best friends are black."  He insisted "It is a fact, as many of you know, that the first two babies I ever baptized were colored babies; the first church building I consecrated was for colored people, the first parish house I dedicated was for colored people, the first class I confirmed after I was made Bishop was a class of colored people."

Seven years after the dedication fire devastated the building again.  A five-alarm blaze on January 19, 1939 resulted, once again, in only the outer walls standing.  The damaged was estimated at a quarter of a million dollars, more than $4.25 million by today's standards.

The congregation was determined to rebuild.  Included in the reconstruction was the replacement of the carillon.  It was executed by the Royal Eijsbouts foundry in Asten, the Netherlands, and installed in 1949.  (When the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris celebrated its 850th anniversary in 2014, it called on the Royal Eijsbouts foundry to recast its largest bell, the 6-ton "Marie.")

The Church of St. Martin continues to serve its neighborhood.   It also operates The Little Theatre to train young residents in dance and the arts.  Although covered in decades of grim, William A. Potter's masterful Romanesque Revival structure miraculously survives after two near misses with destruction.

photographs by the author