The Lost Gilsey Building - 169-171 Broadway

from Illustrations of Iron Architecture made by The Architectural iron Works of the City of New York, 1865 (copyright expired)

Born in Hobro, Denmark in 1812, Peter Gilsey's parents died when he was still a boy.  He arrived in New York City in 1827 "alone and friendless," according to the New-York Tribune years later.  He was nearly penniless, as well.  But he was ambitious and relentless.  He obtained a job in the Grow & Christopher piano factory and slowly saved enough money to open a small cigar shop on the Bowery near Prince Street.

Gilsey invested his profits into real estate and, according to historian Matthew Hale Smith in 1871, "has been content to seek for wealth in that class of investments."  Within three decades of landing in New York harbor Gilsey had amassed a sizable fortune and set out to erect an office building which would double as headquarters for his tobacco business.  He eyed the southwest corner of Broadway and Cortlandt Street where Bogert's bakery stood; but, as The Buffalo Courier recalled decades later in 1911, the "old baker refused to sell."

Matthew Hale Smith explained that Bogert "was noted for his love of whiskey and cigars."  And so, "with a good supply of fine liquor, and a quality of well selected cigars, Mr. Gilsey visited the owner in his domicile on Long Island.  Who drank the whiskey, and who smoked the cigars is not known.  But Mr. Gilsey brought back a well executed lease, giving him control of the property for twenty-five years."

Smith described Bogert as "a shrewd, cautious, 'skittish' sort of man to deal with."  The lease clearly directed that when the lease expired whatever building had been erected upon the plot would revert to him.  At an aggregate rent of $20,000, Gilsey would be paying the equivalent of $24,700 per year today on the land.

Gilsey hired architect John W. Ritch to design his building and Ritch, in turn, turned to Daniel Badger to execute his designs.  Badger’s concept of hanging pre-cast iron sections to masonry buildings which he had developed a few years earlier allowed for rapid construction, fire-proof facades and relatively inexpensive but elaborate decorative structures.

Completed in 1854 the six-story structure cost $60,000 to construct according to Matthew Hale Smith--or about $1.85 million today.  Ritch relieved the visual bulk with prominent cornices that created three sections.  Within each were uninterrupted piers that accentuated the verticality of the structure and anticipated the skyscraper movement to come.  On both sides above the ornate bracketed terminal cornice were triangular pediments.  They contained cast iron banners that announced the building's name--an element Badger would repeat three years later in the elaborate Cary Building.

Gilsey moved his own offices into the building and began leasing space.  Among the first to sign was haberdasher M. Wilson, who announced he had moved into "a spacious establishment in the Gilsey building," on December 19, 1854.  He listed among his offerings "a large assortment of shirts, stocks and collars, carefully manufactured, and suitable for every market in the States."  

Wilson had competition within the building in April 1855 when merchant tailor Joseph Lee moved his store in.  Above the street level shops the offices were occupied by a variety of tenants, like jeweler John I. Moffat; publishers' agent Charles t. Evans; and James Marriner, real estate agent.

By May 1855 Dr. John Bull's office was here.  He produced Dr. John Bull's Sarsaparilla which he deemed "the greatest spring and summer medicine in the world."  An advertisement in The New York Herald on June 6 touted its miraculous properties:

For Sick Headache, Loss of Appetite and bilious attacks, take a dose or two of Dr. John Bull's sarsaparilla, and you will be cured in a few hours, as hundreds who have tried it are willing to testify.  It has every good quality to recommend it, being exceedingly nice to the taste.  Children like it, and ask for it.  It is free from all drugs and minerals, and perfectly safe to use at all seasons.  In fact, is has been truly called, "Nature's best friend and assistant."

The offices of Butler, Hosford & Co. were in the building in 1859.  The firm manufactured the "Paragon self-generating gas light, making its own Gas in the burner as wanted, safely from burning fluid."  And within three years jeweler James Alexander was here.  He doubled as a sort of pawn broker, advertising "liberal advances made on Merchandise, Diamonds, Watches and Silver Ware, &c., or purchased for cash at the full value."

Quimby, Smith & Co. was one of several jewelers in the building in 1870.  Reconstruction Illustrated and Explained, 1870 (copyright expired)

Several real estate agents called the Gilsey Building home in the early 1870's, including J. O. Hoyt, W. P. Seymour, and T. B. Peck.  A somewhat surprising tenant, at least from a 21st century viewpoint, was E. Richmond, the New York agent for the Kentucky State Lottery.  He published the winning numbers in newspapers in 1873 and directed "Prizes cashed and information given by addressing E. Richmond, No. 4 Gilsey Building."  The office would remain for years, later taken over by B. Nathan, who also represented the Missouri State Lottery. 

The nation celebrated its Centennial on July 4, 1876 in grand style and New York threw a two-day party.  The New-York Tribune entitled a nearly-full page article "The City In Gala Dress" and said that on Broadway "Every building, no matter how insignificant, had a flag waving."  Certainly not insignificant was the Gilsey Building which "was gayly decorated with small flags flying from each of the windows."

A riot of signs cover the ground floor shops in 1906.  photo by Irving Undershill from the collection of the Library of Congress

Peter Gilsey died on April 8, 1873, six years before his lease on the property expired.  Although his estate was forced to give up the building, the project had been massively profitable.  In 1871 Matthew Hale Smith had noted "Since 1861, the income from the building has exceeded $75,000 dollars a year."  That figure would translate to about $1.6 million today.

Real estate operators continued to lease in the building in the 1880's and '90's; but the changing times were evident in at least one tenant.  In 1889 Miss Lamb leased Room  No. 33 on the third floor for her typewriting school.  An advertisement in March that year promised "typewriting taught in one month" and assured "Pupils qualified as expert typewriters in one month, or money refunded.  The finger movement taught."  Student could also received instruction in stenography and "manifolding and addressing of envelopes" and "forms of business and social correspondence."

If Bogert had refused to sell his valuable corner plot in 1854, his family was no less resolute in 1906.  (On December 10, 1911 The Buffalo Courier would comment that the building "now brings the Bogert family nearly $50,000 a year, which is probably five times what the old baker paid for the property.")  

The City Investing company was formed in 1904.  It targeted the Broadway-Cortlandt corner for its massive City-Investing Company Building.  But the Bogert family stubbornly refused to sell.  Therefore, in 1907, the skyscraper went up around the Gilsey Building.  Designed by Francis Kimball, it was at the time the largest office building yet constructed in terms of square footage.

One of several Young's Hat stores was in the building at the end of World War I.  New-York Tribune, March 21, 1921 (copyright expired)

In reporting on the City-Investing Building in its April 1907 issue, Fireproof Magazine assumed that the Gilsey Building's future was now secure.  "It looks now as if [it] were destined to have a long lease of life before it still, and it will continue for some time to be the center of reminiscence by the few remaining old inhabitants who used to buy their pipes, tobacco and sometimes their cigars from Peter Gilsey."

A stubborn hold-out, the Gilsey Building was dwarfed by the City-Investing Building in 1907. photo by Irving Underhill from the collection of the Library of  Congress 

The article recalled the building's beginnings.  "Time was when the Gilsey building, one of the first professedly 'office' buildings in New York, was quite a sensation.  It was elaborately described in the daily papers of the time when it was built.  Its exterior, of cast iron, was regarded as a very original design in progressive cast-iron architecture."

While the corner was no longer feasible for massive construction, the pre-Civil War structure was quickly becoming an anachronism and its owners found it more and more difficult to attract new tenants to the out-of-date structure.

On December 22, 1926 The New York Sun reported on the coming end of the Gilsey Building, announcing that the Chemical National Bank would be erecting a six-story structure on the site.

photo by Erik Drost

Today the massive 54-floor One Liberty Plaza, completed in 1973, engulfs the site.  Along with the City-Investing Building (later known at 165 Broadway) the 1908 Singer Building was demolished to make way for the skyscraper.

F. A. Minuth's 1901 60-62 West 15th Street

When the Walker & Keys Livery Stables opened in 1861, it catered to the well-to-do who lived in the Fifth Avenue mansions and luxurious row houses along the side blocks.  Located at No. 20 West 15th Street, it was just far enough away from Fifth Avenue to be unoffensive; yet close enough to be convenient.  In 1888 Illustrated New York described the 50-foot wide facility as being "well lighted, drained, and ventilated and possesses first-class accommodations for fifty horses.

Illustrated New York noted "Walker's tally-ho coaches also have a wide celebrity, and are liberally patronized."  Illustrated New York 1888 (copyright expired)

By the time of Illustrated New York's article, however, the neighborhood was greatly changing.  Wealthy homeowners were moving further uptown and Sixth Avenue, just steps away from the stable, was filling with retail stores.  As the century wore down, Walker & Keys would relocate as well.

In July 1901 German-born architect Francis A. Minuth filed plans for a six-story brick and stone loft and store building on the site for developer Charles Wittenauer.  Construction costs were estimated at $70,000, or about $2.13 million today.  Minuth was perhaps a surprising choice as he was better known for designing apartment buildings.

His triparte design was defined by two intermittent stone cornices.  The two-story limestone faced base included a cast iron storefront.  The banded piers on either side terminated in carved Beaux Arts cartouches.  Minuth abruptly changed styles for the red brick upper floors--a prim take on Renaissance Revival.  The three-story brick piers of the mid-section were capped with simple stone capitals.  The top floor repeated the design, but replaced the grouped center rectangular windows with three arched openings.  Minuth's handsome design disguised the structure's industrial purpose.  

The building filled with apparel factories; one of the first of which was an immediate failure.  Two hopeful businessmen with remarkably similar surnames, Frederick Heyman and Julius H. Hayman, formed the partnership of Hayman & Co. in October 1902.  They took space in the 15th Street building and began manufacturing "clothing and children's dresses."

But the partners apparently could not get along.  Although their finances were solid (the New-York Tribune said "the firm is solvent"), Heyman suited Hayman "to dissolve the partnership."  On February 20, 1902 the New-York Tribune reported that the firm had closed.  "They have been in business three months."

Other garment manufacturers in the building included Sal Elner, who made cloaks.  He moved here the same year that Hayman & Co. moved out.  In 1913 tenants included Kleinfeld & Renner, "cloaks;" Century Dress Co.; Excel Mfg. Co., "waists and dresses;" and Abraham Cohen, another dress maker. 

The estate of Charles Wittenauer still owned the building in 1916 when a fire escape and new windows were installed.  Although the grand emporiums of Sixth Avenue had abandoned the Ladies' Mile by now, No. 60-62 would continue to house apparel manufacturers through most of the 1920's.

The entire building was leased to the Ambassador Furniture Warehouse in the late 1920's.  The Great Depression may have dealt a fatal blow to the firm.  As the lease neared expiration in 1932, a massive liquidation auction was held on April 25.

Two years later the second floor in the building was leased by the Artists Union.  Founded in September 1933  as the Emergency Work Bureau Artists Group, it was a union of New York artists and had already been influential in the Roosevelt Administration's establishment of the Public Works of Art Project.  Among the founding members of the Artists Union were Communist Party members Boris Gorelick, Max Spivak and Phil Bard.

The raised fist iconography of the 1934 membership card suggests the group's leftist leanings.

Every Wednesday evening meetings were held in the second floor space.  A magazine, Art Front, was published here beginning in November 1934.  Exhibitions and a weekly dance were perks for struggling artists.  On March 23, 1935, for instance, The New York Times reported on a sculpture exhibition.  "This exhibition by the newly organized sculpture division of the Artists Union consists of 109 items representing the work of eighty-nine sculptors."

from Art Front, February 1935

In reporting on the show, the article noted "The Artists Union was formed to establish trade union recognition for artists in the works projects conducted by the government and to fight for a municipal art center.  It has more than 1,300 members."  The group was visible in demonstrations and protests, earning it the name of the "fire brigade."  And its constant pressure reaped results.  The formation of the Federal Art Projects in August 1935 is generally attributed to the efforts of the Artists Union.  

On August 15 that year 83 members were arrested for disorderly conduct in front of the College Arts Association.  The Times reported "The pickets, who were employed on a CWA [Civil Works Administration] project, held a demonstration as a protest against delay in receiving their wages."

The Artists Union had moved to No. 430 Sixth Avenue by November 1936 when members employed by the Works Progress Administration proposed replacing the advertising panels in the subway stations with murals.  Union spokesperson Elizabeth Olds told The Times that the proposal had "been received with interest by representatives of the city."

Much less colorful tenants were Thomas A. Conlan's electrician shop, here in 1937, and the Universal Novelty Company in 1939.  The Stelton Manufacturing Company faced potential collapse when the United States entered World War II.  The firm manufactured rubber sheets for baby beds and rubber baby pants.  

The Government imposed strict rationing on commodities needed for the war effort--including rubber which was so vital for the manufacture of jeep and truck tires, for example.  Luckily for Stelton, on May 13, 1943 it received permission to "sell, offer to sell, deliver and transfer" its baby articles.  (The wholesale price of a dozen baby pants was capped by the Government at $2.75.)

photo via 6sqft

A renovation competed in 1979 resulted in one apartment per floor above the retail space.  Francis A. Minuth's dignified 1901 loft building, easily overlooked on the quiet block, has changed little outwardly.

photographs by the author

The Carolina and John Greenough House - 38 East 63rd Street

Architect F. S. Barus designed an 18-foot wide, four-story brownstone house for developer Francis Crawford in 1880.  Although the title to the property, completed the following year, was put in the name of his wife, Margaret, the project was purely speculative.  In June 1881 the pair sold the high-stoop house to Ann Sophia Stephens for $31,750, or just under $350,000 today.

The widow was known nationally as Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, the author of dime novels, poems and short stories.  As a matter of fact, the term "dime novel" had originated with Ann's 1860 Indian Wife of The White Hunter.   When she purchased the new house in June Manhattan society was away for the summer.  But on January 29, 1882 the Memphis Daily Appeal reported "Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, the venerable novelist, opened her new home at 38 East Sixty-third street, New York, a few nights ago with a literary reception."

Ann S. Stephen's plots were thrilling, the main character often a female. 

Ann leased the furnished house for the winter season of 1891-92 to millionaire Francis Cutting and his wife, the former Frances Frost.  The couple had two grown children, 23-year old Frederick Page and 31-year old Isabella Frost Cutting.  The family moved in just in time for Isabella's house wedding marriage to Englishman Harrold Courtenay on December 22, 1891.  (It would not be a happy match.  Courtney later had his wife confined to an insane asylum and lived lavishly off her money.)

In the spring of 1899 Ann S. Stephens, now 89-years-old, sold No. 38 to real estate operator Augustus Stoner.  The price was kept confidential, but the $20,000 mortgage Ann personally provided Stoner--about $625,000 today--more than hints at the rising property values.

Stoner leased the house to Mary E. Wilcox in October that year.  At the end of the three-year lease, in 1902, he sold it to 72-year old retired merchant Isaac McConihe and his wife, the former Phebe McKean Warren.  The couple had recently relocated to New York City from Troy.  On October 2 the New York Herald announced he would make the house his permanent residence.

McConihe had been a prominent figure in Troy, having served as alderman in 1853, as police commissioner for many years, and as mayor in 1860-61.  His residency in the 63rd Street house would be extremely short.   He suffered a fatal heart attack on Saturday morning, January 10, 1903, just three months after moving in.  His funeral was held in the residence two days later.

Phebe McConihe sold the property to banker John Greenough and his wife, the former Carolina H. Storey.  Born in 1846 and graduated from Harvard in 1865, John was a member of the firm of Poor & Greenough.  There were two children, Marion M. and Carroll, who graduated Harvard the year his parents purchased No. 38.  

The Greenoughs maintained two summer residences, Urchin at Glouster, Massachusetts, and a cottage at Tuxedo Park.    On May 31, 1904 the New-York Tribune reported on their dinner party at Tuxedo Park, the guest list of which included Captain D. R. De Chair, Royal Naval attaché of the British Embassy at Washington, and his wife.  

While that party was going on much work was taking place on 63rd Street.  Before moving in the Greenoughs had commissioned architect William Strom to give the Victorian brownstone a complete make-over.  The massive project--costing the equivalent of $582,000 today--included extending the structure to the rear, stripping off the stoop and facade, and pulling the front forward to the property line.

When completed the house bore no resemblance to its former self.  Strom had created a neo-Georgian townhouse faced in Flemish-bond brick above the limestone-clad base.  A bowed bay rose three stories and featured the centered entrance under an arched pediment, and handsome paneled lintels at the second floor.  The splayed stone lintels of the upper openings followed the Georgian motif.  Given the significant expense of the project, it is somewhat surprising that Strom left the entrance where the former English basement doorway had been--a few steps below the sidewalk.  The result was the appearance that the house had sunk below street level.

With that project finished the Greenboughs brought Strom back the following year to make "extensive alterations and improvements" to their four-story stable at No. 212 East 63rd Street.  The Record & Guide reported on September 16, 1905 that the "building will be rebuilt and enlarged at a cost of about $10,000."  That project was not inexpensive, either; equal to nearly $295,000 today.

Both Carolina and John were active in social causes.  He served as president of the building committee for the New York Kindergarten Association in 1906, for instance, and on April 17, 1912 Carolina hosted a fair in their home "for the support of the model flats maintained by the St. George's City Mission Committee," as reported in the New-York Tribune.

John was vice president of the American Geographical Society of New York, and hosted the reception for 50 European geographers in the society's new building at 157th Street and Broadway on October 17, 1912.  The New-York Tribune remarked "tall and venerable, [he] presided beneath an enormous American flag hanging above the speakers' table."

And when a benefit concert of sacred music for the benefit of the Home for Colored Working Girls and of the St. John's Club for Boys was given in the spring of 1916, readers of The Sun were instructed that tickets could be obtained from Carolina at the 63rd Street address.  She was a staunch supporter of the Stony Wold Sanatorium, as well.

By 1919 John had been elected president of the American Geographical Society.  Now retired, he became more involved in charitable organizations.  He was, for instance, a member of the Campaign Executive Committee in 1920 charged with raising $975,000 for the Association for Improving the Condition of the Poor; and the following year was involved with the work of St. Michael's Home for Girls.

John Greenough died on May 4, 1934 at the age of 88.  Carolina would live to the same age, dying in 1947.   Five years before her death she sold No. 38 to Dr. Charles S. Dazer.  On January 9, 1942 The New York Times reported that he "will alter and use it for his residence and office."

A subsequent renovation was completed in 1952 which resulted in apartments above the ground floor level doctor's office.  That physicians office would remain until October 1969 the new Katz Gallery opened in the space.  It remained until about 1974 when the Moi salon took over.

On April 21, 1975 Angela Taylor, writing in The New York Times reported "Moi (who is Mrs. William Raymond Ryder in private life) is a tiny young woman born in India of Chinese parents.  For several years Moi did facials, manicures, waxing, eyelash dyeing at the Davian salon and acquired enough enthusiasts to open her own establishment recently in the street floor of a townhouse."

The former Greenough house continues to house an office in the ground floor and apartments above.  From the street, however, there is little hint that it is anything but the private home of a socially-prominent family who could afford two country estates.

photograph by the author

Nos. 12 and 14 Minetta Street

In the 17th century "partially freed" Black slaves were permitted to own property far north of New Amsterdam around a brook the Algonquins called Mannette--variously translated as "Spirit Water" or "Demon Water."  The Dutch interpretation was Mintje Kill, or "little stream," which eventually became "Minetta."  

The stream bank was used as a pathway, which became known in the 18th century as "the Negroe's causeway."   After the brook was covered over in the 1820's, the well-trodden path became Minetta Lane from MacDougal Street, turning into Minetta Street and curving towards Bleecker--following the old stream's course.  Following the abolishment of slavery in New York in 1827 the majority of the city's large Black population gathered in the area.  By the 1840's little curvy Minetta Street was lined with humble houses.

Among them were three brick-faced Greek Revival homes erected by Abraham Van Nest around 1847.  Van Nest was the president of the Greenwich Savings Bank, a prominent merchant and a leader in church and city affairs.  The Van Nest family occupied the impressive 18th century estate built by Sir Peter Warren at Bleecker and Charles Streets.

The houses, Nos. 10 through 14 Minetta Street, were three stories tall above three-stepped stoops.  Had the 50-foot plot been in an upscale neighborhood, Van Nest most likely would have allowed for only two houses.  A width of just over 16 feet each would do for this location.

In the mid-1850's No. 12 was home to Samuel B. Totten, a butcher who volunteered at Guardian Engine Company No. 29 on Amos Street (later West 10th Street).  He, like many of the original residents in the years following the Civil War, moved northward.  Emancipated slaves who migrated from the South added to the Black population, earning the neighborhood the nickname "Little Africa."   They shared the 300-foot long street with impoverished Irish immigrants, a group which was also the target of extreme prejudice.

One such family was that of Patrick and Rose T. Reilley, who followed Totten at No. 12.  Their home was the scene of the funeral of their one-year old son, John Francis, on September 14, 1869.  

No. 14 was home to several tenants in 1872.  Quite possibly newly-arrived to the city, three of them were looking for work that year.  From the wording of an ad on September 15, they each lived in a single room.  "14 Minetta St., Third floor, back room--A respectable colored woman wishes a few gentlemen's or families' washing."

The following month an ad in The New York Herald read "A colored man wants a situation as cook or waiter in a boarding house or private family," and in December another roomer wrote "A young colored man wants a situation as waiter or coachman in a private family.  Apply at No. 14 Minetta st., second floor."

By 1876 Minetta Street had become dangerous and squalid.  Both No. 12 and 14 were sold by Silas M. Stilwell, Jr. to John M. Pinkney in June that year as part of a bundle of more than 50 other properties, most of them in wretched neighborhoods like the Five Points.  Stilwell was a partner in the law firm of Stilwell, Gardiner & Stilwell.  Pinkney paid a total of $20,000 for the group--about $483,000 today.

Among the tenants of No. 12 in 1889 were 38-year old James Hobson and his wife.  He worked as a longshoreman on the National Steamship Line Pier on the Hudson River, as did his 30-year old unmarried neighbor across the street at No. 15, Gilbert Farmer.  There were 200 longshoreman who worked on the pier unloading and loading vessels, only eight of whom were Black, including Hobson and Farmer.

On the afternoon of December 7 the Holland docked and the crew began work on unloading her.  The Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported "Upstairs eight colored men were rolling cotton bales and three white men directing operations."  An elevator boy discovered a fire "blazing up among the cotton."  The fire spread throughout the massive pier in seconds.  "It all happened in a few moments, long though it takes to tell it," said the newspaper.

The newly-renovated pier was gutted, four men were dead and seven injured, including Hobson and Farmer.  James Hobson suffered burns to his hands and face.  But he had "inhaled flame and is in a serious condition," according to the article.  Farmer escaped with burns to his hands and face and cuts from falling glass.

Laximia Lewis lived at No. 12 in 1897 when she fell in love with the wrong man.  The 25-year-old expected her boyfriend, Frank Smith, to be faithful.  But she discovered that was not the case.  At around 10:00 on the cold night of February 25 she caught him with another woman on Sixth Avenue near Carmine Street.  

The Evening Telegram reported "A colored woman was seen stealthily sneaking behind a man and woman of the same hue.  Suddenly she pranced in front of the man, and striking him in the face with her fist, screamed:--'Yo' deceitful man!  I'll teach you' to trifle with my affections!' and she let out again with her fists, finding a resting spot on his nose."

The other woman screamed and ran away.  But Laximia had merely enraged Smith.  "He quickly delved down in his hip pocked and, producing his native weapon of warfare, a razor, began to carve the belligerent Amazon's countenance."  Laximia screamed "Murder!" and drew the attention of the nearby Policeman Berow.  Both were locked up overnight and the following morning Laximia refused to press charges.  The Daily Eagle summed it all up saying "A keen-edged razor in the hands of an agile colored man served to subdue the jealous frenzy of a woman last night, and as a consequence she will carry a bad looking scar down the side of her left cheek for the rest of her days."

The degraded condition of Minetta Street was evidenced in 1907 when No. 14 was deemed by city inspectors "unfit for human habitation" and ordered vacated.   In 1916 the city proposed a solution to the overall horrific conditions.  On December 10 The Sun ran the headline "Minetta Street, Tough, Crooked And Dilapidated, To Be Wiped Out Under Civic Betterment Plan."  The sub-headline called Minetta Street the "worse section in Old Greenwich Village" and the "home of disreputable characters and [a] trouble centre for more than half a century."  The article noted that originally it was a peaceful, respectable street but, "in time, the best people having gone away, even the honest negro refused finally to live there and gave way to his degraded brethren."

The proposal was to simply do away with Minetta Street and replace it with a new roadway running the opposite way, from Sixth Avenue to the corner of Bleecker and MacDougal Streets.  "Of course the life of the old street depends on whether the Board of Estimate is willing to spend $688,000 on the improvements," said The Sun.  Apparently it was not; for the project never got off the ground.

Add The plan to eradicate Minetta Street never came to pass.  The Sun, December 10, 1916 (copyright expired)
caption

It was not demolition, but demographics that changed Minetta Street.  Greenwich Village was already the epicenter of Manhattan's arts community and the little winding street with its quaint (albeit abused) buildings fit perfectly into the bohemian lifestyle.  On February 7, 1920 the New-York Tribune reported that Anthony W. Watson had sold No. 14, adding "this is one of the houses which are going to be remodeled in the section to be known as the 'Latin Quarter of America.'"

Nos. 10 through 14 are at the right in this 1922 photographs.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The view in 2019.  

In 1924 architect Arthur C. Holden was hired to remodel both No. 12 and 14 into two-family homes.  Where impoverished families had crowded into squalid rooms, artists and writers would soon live.

In 1939 lyricist and author John Treville Latouche moved into his five-room apartment at No. 12.  While here he wrote the lyrics for "Taking a Chance on Love" for the musical Cabin in the Sky.  He was interviewed in what Collier's magazine called "his bizarre Greenwich Village apartment" that year.  Latouche shared the apartment with his writer-editor friend Robert Faulkner, but his residency here would be short-lived.  Latouche married Theodora Griffis on October 30, 1940 and moved on.

By 1949 Margaret Brownson Clark was living at No. 12.  Known professionally as Peggy Clark, she had attended Smith College and the Yale School of Fine Arts where she studied scenic design and lighting.  

Peggy Clark sketched this set design for the 1940 Broadway production of Holiday.  from the collection of the Library of Congress.

A pioneer in making lighting design a profession on Broadway, she would be elected president of the United States Scenic Artists in 1968.  Peggy Clark remained at No. 12 past the mid-1950's.

Changes to the neighborhood were obvious in this 1940 tax photograph, showing only 12 and 14 standing.  via the NYC Department of Records & Information Services

The other resident of No. 12 at the time was George Auerbach, a film and stage writer and producer.  He organized the American Creative Theatre in his apartment here.  When he proposed that Saul Bellow transform a novel into a screenplay in 1946, the esteemed writer checked first with his agent, Henry Volkening.   His letter of February 4 said in part:

A man named George Auerbach who heads a group called the American Creative Theatre at 12 Minetta St. wrote this week to ask whether I would be interested in dramatizing The Victim.  I asked Eric Bentley about Auerbach and he reported very favorably.

In the meantime, vocalist and singing coach Donald Gage lived next door at No. 14.  He appeared on stage as well.  By 1957 the house was home to artist Sidnee Livingston, who would remain into the 1970's.  Born in 1909 she studied at New York University and the National Academy of Design.  Among the collectors of her works was Sir John Gielgud who at one point owned the largest private collection.

Ballet dancer Wilfred Schuman had moved into the lower portion of No. 12 by 1972 when he was performing on Broadway in The Rothchilds.  In 1993 he purchased it and No. 14.  

The aging Schuman began to show signs of alcoholism and dementia in the early years of the 21st century.  One tenant later testified that he was "often drunk by late afternoon" and that he ate nearly nothing "besides cans of tuna fish, which he shared with his cats."

In the other apartment in No. 12 was David Burnett.  He opened a bank account in his landlord's name so the tenants could deposit their monthly checks when he was no longer capable of accepting them.  In 2007 Schuman stopped issuing leases and the tenants lived on a month-to-month basis.

That year he was first hospitalized for "alcoholism, dementia and bleeding of the brain after a fall," according to New York Post journalist Kate Briquelet.  He would be admitted several more times before his death in 2010.  

In November 2004 Pari Dulac purchased the two houses from the Schuman estate for $2.75 million.  And she quickly got a troubling surprise.

In August 2010 Jud Parker, unaware that Schuman was deceased, had appeared at one of the apartments in No. 14 asking about him.  He told its tenant, Laurie Dowdeswell, that he held the lease and demanded that she pay $1,500 to sublet it, or vacate.  In 2012 he increased her rent to $2,500.  Just prior to Dulac's purchase of the properties, Lowdeswell and her husband had moved out.

A week after taking title, Dulac discovered that Parker had a 50-year lease on his apartment in No. 14 at $10 a month rent.  The 47-year old Parker insisted that the lease was a "gift" for taking care of the old man.  Dulac sued, claiming Parker "manipulated Schuman into signing the lease or forged his signature."

Minetta Street bears little hint of the place whose dwellings reformer Jacob Riss called "vile rookeries" in 1890.  The venerable houses at Nos. 12 and 14, their red brick now painted white, are still two-family dwellings.

photographs by the author

Pollard & Steinam's 34 West 22nd Street

By the early 1890's Mother Elizabeth ran an industrial school for girls in the house she personally owned at No. 34 West 22nd Street.  Avoiding the term "industrial school," Mother Elizabeth and the Society of St. Martha called it St. Martha's Home.  The name perhaps referred to the fact that some of the girls, orphaned or otherwise homeless, lived here.  Mother Elizabeth ran the facility independently of any church, although the Rev. Arthur Ritchie of St. Ignatius's Church was its chaplain and he president of the Home.  He visited daily to say mass.

The Sun described the school, saying "The children are taught sewing, cooking, and housework, besides receiving a plain English education."  And the New York Journal called it "celebrated for its instruction among devout Protestant Episcopalians."

Dealing with girls who sometimes came from the streets could be difficult.  In the spring of 1897 one of the older girls, according to Rev. Ritchie, "became unruly" and "tried to stir up a disturbance in the school.  She was finally told to leave, as I heard the story, and two or three other girls left with her."

The trouble came at a time when the 22nd Street block was changing from a quiet residential enclave to a commercial hub of lofts and stores.  It prompted Mother Elizabeth to rethink her options.  On December 6 that year The Sun reported that "Miss Elizabeth Faitoute, or Mother Elizabeth" had moved the school into a "two-story Queen Anne house" in Bronxville.  "Miss Faitoute purchased the Bronxville property with her own means, and conducts the school practically unaided, hiring the teachers and servants who assist her."  Rev. Ritchie told the reporter "When the school was moved to Bronxville last spring the Twenty-second street house was closed, and is now for sale or to rent."  

Mother Elizabeth's full lay name was Jane Elizabeth Faitoute and whether she was an actual Episcopal nun or not is unclear.  She was born in 1837 in New York to Jonathan and Nancy Pierson Faitoute, and at some point came into a fortune.  When accused of abusing her pupils in 1897 she protested "I have spend from seventy to eighty thousand dollars of my own money in this work, and is it likely that I do this to maltreat children?"  On the higher end, that amount would be equivalent to about $2.5 million today.

Rather than sell the vintage 22nd Street house, she hired the architectural firm of Pollard & Steinam to design a replacement structure.  On May 27, 1898 the firm filed plans which called for a six-story "brick store and offices" to cost $20,000 (in the neighborhood of $625,000 today).

The architects produced a neo-Renaissance store and loft building 23-feet wide.  The storefront and the second story show window were framed in a limestone architrave outlined by egg-and-dart carving and capped with a decorative keystone draped in foliate swags.

Lines of dainty bellflowers stream down the Ionic piers.

The third through fifth floors were clad in beige brick around sets of three grouped openings.  The architects set back the wall of the top floor slightly, to accommodate a layered, projecting section where bands of tone alternated with the brick.  Each of the openings was given an ambitious scrolled keystone which upheld the frieze below the cornice.

The building was completed in 1899 and along with the apparel factories that moved in was the New York and Paris Millinery School.  An advertisement in the New-York Tribune urged "Begin now.  French millinery taught from foundation to finish.  Material furnished.  Individual teaching.  Evening school Monday, Wednesday and Friday."

The school was in the building for years, and its success seems to have sparked a sister school.  On March 4, 1900 an advertisement in The New York Press read:

New York and Paris

Dressmaking School

34 West 22d st., New York.

Only school in City where you get a thorough and practical knowledge of Cutting, Fitting, Draping and Finishing.  You see all kinds of latest style garments cut and made for customers; in fact we teach you every branch of the business fully.  You have your choice of the best Systems and Cutting.  We don't compel you to take a special system, or any system if you don't need one. 

Dressmakers wishing to learn Tailoring have advantages that no other school can offer.

Britton & Co. was also among the initial tenants.  The ladies' tailor and furrier created upscale fashions as well as "remodelling and repairing furs."  Its ad in the New-York Tribune in September 1900 promised "Best workmanship, perfect shape, and absolute satisfaction guaranteed" and offered "a variety of this season's smartest effects, in a very choice line of fine imported cloths of the newest weaves and colors."   Britton & Co. catered to the carriage trade--women who could afford a suit costing the equivalent of $1,850 today.

Also in the building at the time was The Holly Co., makers of petticoats, suits and its branded Holly Waist.  The firm touted "The acme of Shirt Waist Making is exemplified in the Holly Waist.  The Best Fitting Garment Made."  The blouses were not inexpensive.  Prices started at $3 "and up" in 1902--a significant $92.50 today.

O. H. Bleil was another of the initial tenants.  On the night of November 19, 1901 he worked late in his office.  Unaware that anyone else was still in the building, the janitor left, locking the street doors behind him.  Unable to get out, Bleil went back upstairs and, according to The New York Times, "shouted out the front window of the third story, and [he] says many persons passed without paying any attention."  Finally his shouts attracted Policeman Hynes who instructed Bleil to climb out onto the rear fire escape.   Hynes managed to get to the roof of the two-story extension of No. 36 then directed Bleil to jump to him.

The roof of No. 36 was about ten feet below the third floor fire escape of No. 34 and Blieil "was timid at first, as the jump was somewhat risky."  But he did, resulting in the newspaper's headline the following morning "Jumped To Policeman's Arms."  His rescue did not end his troubles that night.  Now Policeman Hynes wanted to make sure he had not just liberated a burglar.  He was held until another man, whose business was at No. 58 West 22nd Street, vouched for him and he was let go.

By 1909 women's neckwear manufacturer Altman, Schulhoff & Silvins was here, soon joined by Horowitz, Golden & Co., cloak and suit makers, and furriers Zwedling & Rabinowitz.   In 1917 N. Becker & Sons moved in.  Run by Nathan Becker and his sons, David and Louis, the firm dealt in fabrics.

That same year Lilliam Manufacturing Company opened its store in the ground floor.  The firm made lamp shades.  N. Becker & Sons expanded into the store in 1921.

The following year, in July, Frieda Altman purchased the building.  It is tempting to connect her with Altman, Schulhoff & Silvins; however any possible relationship is unclear.

Throughout the 20th century No. 34 continued to attract small manufacturers.  But as the Chelsea and Flat Iron districts grew trendy, the change caught up with the vintage factory.  In 1999 the store space, where dealers once hawked bolts of wool and lamp shades, became home to the Gotham Comedy Club.  In March 2000 Jesse McKinley, writing in The New York Times, said the "sleek joint...has recently been the home base of the quintessential New York comic, Robert Klein."  The article, entitled "Where the Howlers May also be a Hoot," said "It has a young clientele (a lounge and smoking area are downstairs) and special nights tailored to Latino and gay comedians, a trend mirrored in larger clubs as well."

The Gotham Comedy Club stayed on through 2005, after which the space became the Metropolitan Room.  What would be a tradition of top-tier entertainment here began immediately.

On May 13, 2006 Times columnist Stephen Holden wrote an article devoted entirely to Billy Stritch's show "Billy Stritch Sings the Mel Tormé Songbook."  Calling the Metropolitan Room "a new music club," he raved about the show, deeming it "a loving, carefully researched tribute to his idol and role model."

In 2008 the second floor was converted to a beauty parlor and the upper floors to offices.  The Metropolitan Room was allowed to provide "eating or drinking" but "no dancing."

The Metropolitan Room was by now known for its famed entertainers as well as "up-and-coming stars."  In the summer of 2010 Tony Award-winning performer Tammy Grimes opened a one-woman show called "Miss Tammy Grimes: Favorite Songs and Stories."  One reviewer said "If you wish you could have been around to witness Lotte Lenya mutter out dark cabaret songs in Weimar-era Berlin, or to experience Elsa Lanchester belt bawdy beer-hall standards, live, in a seed London tavern, don't miss this unique opportunity to witness these underground icons' rightful heir--Tammy Grimes is the Lotte Lenya of our time, with more than a little Elsa through in for good."

No. 34 received another renovation, completed in 2015, which added a penthouse level, unseen from the street.  There were now offices on the second floor, one apartment each on floors through through five, and a duplex above.  The Metropolitan Room continues to occupy the street level.

Through it all, except for expected replacement windows, Pollard & Steinam's handsome industrial structure survives little changed.  A reminder of 22nd Street's change from residential to commercial to residential.

photographs by the author