The Louis and Ellen Shipman House - 21 Beekman Place

 

The Beekman family's country estate, Mount Pleasant, overlooked Turtle Bay and provided refreshing river breezes in the summer months.  The mansion, erected in 1763, was located at what would become 51st Street and First Avenue.  When the residence was threatened with the proposed opening of crosstown streets in 1840, the Beekmans carefully moved it to what is now 50th Street and First Avenue.  

Two decades later, the two-block long Beekman Place was opened.  The north-south running street stretched from 49th to 51st Street.  On December 18, 1865, former Methodist minister Samuel W. Dunscomb purchased the land from James W. Beekman for $127,500 (just over $2.5 million in 2025 terms).  (Beekman retained possession of the narrow strip of land along the river.)  Dunscombe erected a stone retaining wall and began erecting 20-foot-wide rowhouses on both sides of Beekman Place.  The high-stooped residences were four-stories tall and shared a continuous cornice.

Builder Samuel Stevens may have been involved in Dunscomb's project.  He moved his family into 21 Beekman Place, on the northeast corner of 50th Street.  One of the eight Beekman Place corner houses, it enjoyed light and ventilation on three sides as well as river views.

The Stevens' adult sons, Mark S. and Salomon S., were also involved in the construction business.  They independently erected and owned structures in the quickly developing Upper East Side.

The Stevens family sold 21 Beekman Place to Josiah Sutherland in 1880.  He lost it in foreclosure two years later, and on April 15, 1884, Felix A. Mulgrew purchased the house from the bank for $15,000 (about $495,000 today). 

Mulgrew operated a substantial sawmill on Eighth Avenue, employing 60 employees by the 1890s.  He and his wife, Alice, had seven sons--Henry, George B., James T, John F., Will, Felix Jr., Frederick--and four daughters--Mary R., Annie, Elizabeth and Alice Eleanor.

Elizabeth F. Mulgrew was married to Dr. Richard Frederick Burke in St. Patrick's Cathedral on June 11, 1891.  Alice served as the maid of honor and John Mulgrew acted as Burke's best man.  The New-York Tribune reported, "The wedding supper and reception were given afterward at the bride's home, No. 21 Beekman Place."

Another wedding took place that year.  Mary was married to attorney Terence C. O'Reilly.  The 31-year-old groom was a member of the Tammany Hall General Committee of the Sixteenth Assembly District.  The newlyweds moved into a nearby house at 8 Beekman Place.

On January 8, 1894, O'Reilly was crossing Park Row heading to the elevated train when he was knocked down by a United States mail wagon and "thrown violently to the pavement," according to The New York Times.  He was taken to the Chambers Street Hospital.  The Times said, "at his own request he was permitted to leave the hospital."  As a precaution, however, his doctor opted to have him taken to the Mulgrew house rather than his own.  

What none of the doctors realized was that O'Reilly had suffered a skull fracture.  He died at 21 Beekman Place two days later.  His funeral was held here on January 12.  

On January 31, 1895, The Evening World reported that Mary O'Reilly "was awarded eighteen thousand dollars damages yesterday for the loss of her husband."  It was a substantial settlement, equal to about $695,000 today.

Felix A. Mulgrew sold 21 Beekman Place in January 1899 for $25,000 (equal to about $975,000 today).  It became home to John Stacey Roberts and his wife, Elizabeth.  In 1900, their daughter Cecile Roberts graduated from Normal College.  Her choice of careers was, perhaps, not surprising.  Normal College trained women for careers in teaching.  Her father, a graduate of the College of the City of New York and of Columbia University, was a teacher of mathematics at DeWitt Clinton High School.

Roberts's rise within the public school system was consistent.  By 1904 he was principal of Public School No. 75 and by the outbreak of World War I was the District Supervisor of High Schools.

In 1917, Anne Rutherford Vanderbilt, the wife of William Kissam Vanderbilt, purchased 21 Beekman Place.  She had founded The Big Sisters, Inc. in 1912 and on September 29, 1917, The American Contractor announced that she had contracted the E. E. Paul Co. to convert the house to a club house.

America's entry into World War I changed the plans.  On October 18, 1918, the New-York Tribune reported, "The Chateau Thierry Club, for convalescent soldiers, was opened yesterday afternoon at 21 Beekman Place."  Run by the American Red Cross, the article said, "The large four-story house for the club quarters was given by Mrs. W. K. Vanderbilt."

The previous day, The Sun had begun an article saying, "Laughter and singing and the sound of a piano played enthusiastically if not with great skill came yesterday from the open windows of the pleasant house at 21 Beekman place...Chateau Thierry, the club for wounded sailors and soldiers, was open and going full blast."  The club offered a billiard table in the basement, an afternoon tea "with absolutely unlimited sandwiches and cake and cookies and doughnuts."

The entire top floor had been renovated to a "lounging room," for "the men who want to be quiet, though as there is a player piano and gramophone up there the chance for noise is considerable," said The Sun.  On the second floor were the writing room and game room, and the parlor.  The teas were held in the parlor, which also had a piano.  There were no bedrooms.  The convalescing soldiers were brought here for a few hours each day from hospitals.

In October 1919, with the war over, Louis Evans Shipman and his wife, the former Ellen Biddle, purchased 21 Beekman Place.  The couple had two children, Ellen Biddle, Evan Biddle and Mary Pamela.

Born on August 2, 1869, Shipman was an author and playwright.  He and Ellen were married in 1893.  Among his plays were the 1911 The Grain of Dust, and The Fountain of Youth, which opened at the Henry Miller Theatre in 1918.  In 1921 he finished his play Fools Errant.

Ellen Biddle Shipman was born in Philadelphia on November 5, 1869.  She met Louis while attending Harvard.  Following their marriage, they moved into the Cornish Art Colony in New Hampshire.  There she became interested in landscape architecture, especially the Cornish style that focused on geometric patterns and colonial gardens.  By the time the family moved into 21 Beekman Place, she had collaborated on the gardens of several estates and the courtyard gardens of the Astor Court apartment.

The daughter of General James Biddle, Ellen had three brothers, Colonel David Biddle of the U.S. Army; J. M. Biddle, who lived in Washington; and Nicholas who lived at 6 East 86th Street.  The sibling's widowed mother, Ellen Fish McGowan Biddle, lived with the Shipmans.

Nicholas Biddle contracted bronchial pneumonia in 1921.  On February 21, The New York Times reported that he had been "for two weeks at the home of his sister, Mrs. Louis E. Shipman, 21 Beekman Place."  

Ellen Shipman at her desk in 21 Beekman Place around 1920.  (original source unknown)

The following year, on June 30, 1922, Ellen Fish McGowan Biddle died here at the age of 82.  The New York Herald reported, "Death was due to infirmities of age."

Louis Shipman was appointed editor of Life magazine that year.  But it would be a short-lived position.  He stepped down in 1924 and the Shipmans divorced in 1925.  Louis moved to Paris and was married in 1926 to Lucille Watson.  He died there on August 2, 1933.

In the meantime, Ellen remodeled the Victorian rowhouse.  In November 1927, House Beautiful said, "Mrs. Shipman lived in the house approximately six years, and was constantly working over plans, before she remodeled it."  She hired Butler & Corse to remove the stoop and transform the Italianate brownstone to a brick-faced neo-Georgian residence.  "The house was originally the usual city structure of brownstone," said the article.  "Now it has more the appearance of the studio houses of old Chelsea."

The two-story angled bay featured Gothic style windows.  A one-story extension replaced the rear yard.  House Beautiful, November 1927 (copyright expired)

With the entrance lowered to the former English basement level, Shipman placed a hooded, veranda-like balcony at the second floor.  A niche at the third floor held a small statue and a bas relief rondel decorated what was now the fifth floor.  A brick parapet crowned the design.

Two views of the drawing room.  House Beautiful, November 1927 (copyright expired)

Ellen Shipman carried the Georgian motif into the interiors.  Antique mantels and woodwork were installed and the rooms were decorated with vintage furnishings.  

The dining room walls were covered with "an old Chinese paper,"  House Beautiful said, "The hangings are of a jade-green brocade imported from China.  The glass curtains are of transparent Chinese gauze, and the Venetian blinds are painted powder-blue."  House Beautiful November 1927 (copyright expired)

On October 2, 1946, Ellen Shipman sold 21 Beekman Place to Edgar B. Sterri and his wife for $125,000 (about $2 million today).  They initiated a renovation that resulted in an apartment in the first floor.  It was most likely at this time that an entrance on East 50th Street was added.

The house was returned to a single-family home by William R. Rupp who purchased it for $8.8 million in 2001.  It appears that it was he who remodeled the window lintels and replaced the Gothic-style bay windows with standard square-headed models.  And because he objected to the renovations next door done by famous architect Paul Rudolph, he erected a wall above Ellen Shipman's rear terrace that rose 27 feet.  It successfully blocked the views of Rudolph's many balconies.

Rupp's 27-foot-high wall was removed in 2008.  

Rupp died in 2007 and his estate put the house on the market for $25 million.  The real estate agent, however, said that the ongoing litigation between the owners of 23 Beekman Place over Rupp's wall "scared away" potential owners.

It was purchased in November 2008 by Peter Novello for $10.6 million.  He gut-renovated it and on August 30, 2009, Christopher Gray of The New York Times reported the house was "at its barest, down to the studs and bare walls."  Novello added a level to the terrace in the renovation.

Ellen Shipman's veranda was saved.

The renovated mansion was offered in 2025 for $32 million.

photographs by the author

The Julian and Clara Meyer House - 307 West 107th Street

 

In 1897 real estate operators and builders Perez M. Stewart and H. Ives Smith, partners in Smith & Stewart, commissioned one of the Upper West Side's most prolific architects, Clarence F. True, to design a row of nine upscale houses along the north side of West 107th Street between West End Avenue and Riverside Drive.  True's plans, filed in June, said the four-story homes would be "of various sizes."

The row was completed in 1898.  Typical of True, No. 307 was a blend of historic styles.  Romanesque Revival appeared in the bowed facade's rough cut limestone, notably in the thickset blocks that created the voussoir over the arched ground floor window.  The carved frames of the second floor openings were Renaissance Revival, and True splashed the doorway with neo-Classical swags.  Completing the design was a Flemish Renaissance Revival gable at the fifth floor.

Department store mogul Benjamin Stern purchased four of the houses from Smith & Stewart, including No. 307, on May 31, 1899 as investments.  Stern leased the 20-foot wide house for four years before selling it to Julian Harriman Meyer and his wife, the former Clara Dempsey Bentley, in 1903.

Born in 1860, Meyer was a graduate of City College.  He founded the wholesale grocery firm of Meyer & Lange.  He and Clara had one son, George Bentley, born on January 6, 1895.

Soon after settling into their new home, Clara began entertaining.  On January 28, 1904, The Evening Telegram reported, "At the home of Mrs. Julian Meyer, No. 307 West 107th street, during the last week, handsome prizes were hotly contested for at the meeting of the Monday Afternoon Whist Club."  The extent of the preparations necessary to receive guests was evident in The New York Times' reporting of Clara's "pretty reception" in April 1908.  It said,

Mrs. Meyer received in a gown of rose point and Duchesse lace in her drawing room, which was fragrant with pink roses and Southern smilax.  In the music room American Beauties were used, and Spring flowers and ferns made the dining room particularly attractive.

The social gatherings here often involved Clara's favorite philanthropy, the Stony Wold Sanatorium.  On April 15, 1907, for instance, the New-York Tribune reported on the regular meeting of the facility's Auxiliary No. 4, during which "Mrs. James E. Newcomb made an address."

In December 1907, Meyer contracted an electrical firm headed by Henry Rheinwold to address a problem in Clara's bedroom.  John S. Moltzen arrived on December 23 and began work.  Clara went downtown, leaving the worker with the servants.  While she was gone, a second electrician, Raymond C. Brainard, arrived.  He had been recently fired by Henry Rheinwold.  When Clara returned home, the workers were gone and so was $3,500 worth of Clara's jewelry.  (The figure would translate to about $121,000 in 2025.)

John S. Moltzen was the obvious suspect.  He deflected the investigators' attention to Raymond Brainard.  At 5:00 on the morning of December 24, Detective Daly broke into Brainard's Bronx apartment.  He "found Brainard and a young woman--Dorothy Wiebel--examining the jewelry, which was spread on a table in the kitchen," as reported by The New York Times.  The article said, "Brainard showed fight, but Daly quieted him by a display of his revolver."

Brainard and Wiebel were arrested and the next morning were taken to the Jefferson Market Court.  Dorothy, an unemployed servant, was discharged.  She told the magistrate, "He promised me a ring.  I had no idea where he got the jewelry."  Also in the courtroom was Clara Meyer.  "She identified as hers the jewelry that Daly found in Brainard's flat," said the article.

The Meyers did not own a summer home, instead they patronized fashionable resorts.  Julian was a member of the New York Athletic Club and as such, the facilities of the club's Travers Island were available to the couple.  On October 23, 1910, The New York Times reported, "A small party motored out to Travers Island one day last week and took luncheon as the guests of Mrs. Julian H. Meyer, 307 West 107th Street."

In addition to his membership in the NYAC, Meyer was a member of the Automobile Club of America and the Metropolitan Opera Club.  Clara was a member of the Daughters of the Revolution.

George enjoyed a privileged youth.  He prepared at the Horace Mann School and at Phillips-Andover before enrolling in Yale.  He graduated in 1916 with a law degree.

George Bentley Meyer, History of the Class of Nineteen Hundred And Sixteen Yale College (copyright expired)

On September 6, 1917, Julian suffered "a sudden attack of apoplexy," according to the New York Produce Review and American Creamery.  (Apoplexy referred to a stroke or cerebral hemorrhage.)  The 57-year-old's funeral was held in the West 107th Street house the following day.

Clara Meyer remained in the house for three years, selling it in August 1920 to the Estere Realty Company.  When the firm offered it for sale in May 1921, it noted that the former residence had been "remodelled [sic] in small apartments."  The property changed hands twice before Walter R. Manning purchased it in December 1928 "for investment," according to the Record & Guide.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The house was briefly home to the Nilsson Institute.  An advertisement in the May 15, 1928 issue of Vogue read:

Slenderize--Medical supervision.  Splendid results.  Also Facial rejuvenation.  Treatments at your home or at Nilsson Institute, 307 West 107th St., N.Y.

It appears that Walter R. Manning died in 1929.  On December 4, 1930, The New York Times reported that Ella Hamblen Manning had given a "release of her dower rights in 307 West 107th Street" to the Michael E. Paterno Corporation.  

The house was remodeled again in 1965, resulting in seven apartments.  Among the initial residents was librarian and educator Wendell Wray.  Born on January 30, 1926, he was passionate in preserving Black history.  He received his Bachelor's degree in psychology from Bates College in 1950 and a Master of Library Science from the Carnegie Institute of Technology in 1952.  (He was the first African-American man to graduate from the library school.) 

Wendall L. Wray, School of Information Science Faculty photo, University of Library Science, Pittsburgh 

While living here, he was acting director of the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture.  Shortly after moving in, he was invited to preview a documentary, William Faulkner's Mississippi.  On May 8, 1965, the New York Amsterdam News printed his letter to the editor regarding the piece.  He said in part, "I came away shocked and nauseated by what I saw.  Every broken-down cliche about negroes was used.  I was told that this was not what we wanted to see of Mississippi, but what Faulkner saw."

In 1981, Wray was named chief of the Schomburg Center.  He resigned in March 1983 and retired to Oakland, California.

There are still seven apartments in the former house.  Its exterior appearance is little changed.

photographs by the author

The Lost James and Martha Voley House - 27 Carmine Street

 

from the collection of the New York Public Library

James Voley, a drygoods merchant, and his wife, Martha, moved into the new brick-faced house at 27 Carmine Street around 1835.  Over the past decade, scores of Federal-style houses had been erected in the district as the population of Greenwich Village exploded.  But the 25-foot wide Voley house was a step above those built for working class families.  Handsome wrought iron basket newels most likely perched upon the brownstone drums on either side of the stone stoop.  The doorway, flanked with columns and sidelights and surmounted by an elegant fanlight, sat within an arched stone frame with a layered keystone.  Tall dormers with rounded hoods pierced the peaked roof.

Merchant class couples like the Voleys maintained a small domestic staff.  Something went very wrong within the Voley household on July 1, 1845.  The following day, the New York Morning Courier reported, "A person named James Voley, of No. 27 Carmine street, was arrested for violently assaulting his servant girl.  He was discharged on paying $35."  (Voley's punishment would equal about $1,500 in 2025 terms.)

27 Carmine Street can be seen at the left of the frame.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

James Voley retired that year.  After living at 27 Carmine Street for nearly two decades, he and Martha sold it at auction on March 15, 1854.  It was purchased by Jedediah S. and Georgiana Ryno for $9,100 (about $351,000 today).

Born on December 7, 1824, Ryno ran a butcher stall in the Washington Market.  He and Georgiana had one child, George Henry, born in November 1850.  Sadly, the year after the family moved into 27 Carmine, George Henry contracted what the New York Herald said was "congestion of the brain."  He died in the house on January 3, 1855 at the age of 4.

Jedediah Ryno's grief continued when his 26-year-old wife died on February 23, 1856.  Georgiana's funeral was held in the parlor two days later.

Ryno's brother, Anson, who worked as a carman, and his family moved into the house shortly afterward.  Anson was two years younger than Jedediah.  He and his wife, the former Nancy Lynch, had five children when they moved in, including an infant born on February 29, 1856.  Named Jedediah, his parents appear to have named him after his uncle.

Despite the already large population in the Ryno household, Jedediah took in a boarder in 1859.  Clara Hagney was the widow of Cornelius Hagney and she worked as a huckster at the Centre Market.   (Hucksters sold a variety of small items, unlike the more pervasive provision merchants or butchers in the market.)

Also living in the house was Edward Fitzgerald, whose relationship is unclear.  (He was almost assuredly not a boarder).  Fitzgerald died on January 13, 1859, "after a long and painful illness," according to the New York Herald.  His death notice on January 16 said, "His friends, those of the family, and of J. Ryno, Esq., are respectfully invited to attend the funeral this afternoon, at two o'clock, from the residence of J. Ryno, Esq, No. 27 Carmine street."

On February 26, 1860, Jedediah Ryno married Elisa A. Brainerd.  Anson and his family moved to 3 Minetta Lane shortly afterward.  Elisa's maternal grandfather, John May, was living with the couple by 1863.  He died on October 1 that year at the age of 77 and his funeral was held here two days later.

A peculiar and distressing incident occurred here later that year.  On November 24, 70-year-old James Gillegan was delivering coal to the Rynos.  The Sun reported that he, "fell dead while carrying coal into the house."

In 1870, the Greenwich Village neighborhood around 27 Carmine Street was filling with Italian, German and Irish immigrants.  Although they retained possession of the property, Jedediah and Elisa Ryno left that spring.  An auction of the furnishings was held on April 14.

The house was operated as rented rooms.  Among the tenants in the spring of 1879 was Nellie Gorman, alias Kate Raymond.  She and Jane Wildey, alias Mary Wilson, were arrested on March 9 that year, "charged with picking the pockets of ladies who visited the exhibition of the 'Midgets,'" according to The New York Times.  

The Rynos advertised the house in 1880, describing it as a "Two story, basement and attic, extra wide Dwelling, fine large yard."  It was sold to Georgianna G. R. Wendel for $10,000 (about $317,000 today).  She continued to lease it to a proprietor who ran it as a rooming house.

The "fine yard" of which Jedediah Ryno had boasted was a wasteland in 1926.  The back porch, or piazza, as they were known in the 19th century, survived.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Among the early tenants was Tessie McCune, the wife of Robert McCune.  The New York Dispatch said on July 24, 1881, that they "had been separated some time."  Their relationship, however, was deemed by the newspaper as "queer."  Although still married to one another, they had a client-prostitute arrangement.  Robert "visited her, as would a stranger, [and] she received him as such and took his money for the evening's entertainment."

On July 23, 1881, the two appeared in court after Robert accused his wife of robbing him.  According to his complaint, said the New York Dispatch, "in the course of the dallying the diamond came out of the finger ring, and he had his wife, mistress or whatever you might call it, arrested for stealing the diamond."  The judge uttered his disdain of both parties.  The article recounted, "The Judge said he thought the husband would be under arrest before a great while himself."

Tessie McCune was back in court the following month.  On August 20 The Evening Telegram reported, "Mrs. Mary [sic] McCune, a well dressed woman of No. 27 Carmine street," had been arrested for "stealing a breastpin from Joseph Deane."  The article noted, "Mrs. McCune was arrested some time ago on a charge of taking a diamond pin from her husband...Justice Bixby discharged her then.  To-day she was not quite so fortunate."  Although Tessie insisted that "she took the pin in play, not meaning to keep it," Justice Morgan held her for trial.

In 1885, the basement level of 27 Carmine Street was converted to a store.  Frederick J. Schmidt, whose family lived in rooms upstairs, opened a shoe business in the space.  The following year, on March 9, 1885, he advertised, "Wanted--First-Rate hand buttonhole maker on ladies' fine shoes."

Schmidt and his son, Frederick, Jr., changed course in 1897, now listing their professions as "fitter."  (The term could refer to a pipe fitter or to a coal broker.)  On October 10, 1898, an advertisement in the New York Journal and Advertiser offered: "A fine basement store, 16x41, in good business locality (wholesale or retail).  27 Carmine st."  Despite the change of proprietors, the shop continued to make and sell ladies' shoes.

By the early years of the 20th century, the former store had been converted to a meeting hall.  On March 28, 1907, The New York Age reported, "a number of Afro-American printers assembled for the purpose of forming an association for business, social and mutual welfare."  An early form of a labor union, it was named "The Negro Printers' Association."

In the meantime, several of the tenants in the upper floors continued to be less than respectable.  On August 25, 1922, the New York Herald reported that Samuel Petix, "a butcher of 27 Carmine street," had been arrested in a raid of a speakeasy on Seventh Avenue.

Within a few years, Petix would not have had to go that far to patronize an illegal drinking establishment.  On March 19, 1930 a hold-up took place in Charlie's Triangle Club here, described by The New York Times as "a restaurant and alleged speakeasy."  Thomas Reggione, who was 21 years old; Pasquale De Palo, 26; and 21-year-old Alfred Marino, charged into the place with guns drawn.  They had not anticipated the resistance the patrons exhibited.  Customers--men and women alike--fought back and chaos ensued.

The New York Times reported that Reggione was "caught and beaten by the patrons of the restaurant."  Alfred Marino, who was an ex-convict, engaged in a gunfight outside as he tried to escape.  He was shot dead by Patrolman James F. Rogers.  De Palo was arrested at his home several hours later.  Two patrons, Mrs. Carrie Schumacher and Frank Borgiano, who were wounded in the fray, were taken to St. Vincent's Hospital.

Living here in 1940 was 34-year-old Bernard Giacolone, who listed his profession as a chauffeur.  (The title ranged from a driver for a private family to a cabbie.)  He was arrested along with seven cohorts for "the alleged theft of about $50,000 of liquor" from the Equitable Trading Corporation on Hudson Street during the past four years.

A show window had replaced the two parlor openings in 1941 when this photo was taken.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

After the city told the Church of Our Lady of Pompeii in 1923 that their structure at 214 Bleecker Street stood directly in the path of the upcoming extension of Sixth Avenue, the congregation laid plans for a new church on the corner of Carmine Street and Bleecker, slightly northwest from its current location.  The buildings at 17 through 25 Carmine Street were purchased and demolished and in 1926 ground was broken.  The new Our Lady of Pompeii was completed in 1928.  

27 Carmine Street sat snugly next to the completed church and related building.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

On August 19, 1941, The Sun reported that the Wendel Foundation had sold 27 Carmine Street to the Church of Our Lady of Pompeii.  The trustees used the former house as offices and church-related activities.

Then, on August 4, 1965, The New York Times reported, "Plans for a new five-story headquarters of the society of St. Charles, which aids Italian immigrants, were filed yesterday."  The $200,000 structure, said the article, would replace 27 Carmine Street.  The venerable structure, with its elegant 1830s design and extraordinary history, was replaced with a decidedly less interesting building.

image via streeteasy.com

Philip Koplowsky's 1889 214 East 25th Street

 

Philip Koplowsky acted as developer, builder and architect for the three 26-foot-wide tenement buildings he erected at 210 through 214 West 25th Street in 1888-89.  His blend of Queen Anne and Renaissance Revival styles at 212 East 25th Street created a visual cornucopia of terra cotta panels and bands, carved female busts and fearsome masks, and, at the top floor, graceful caryatids.  Each building terminated in a dramatic cast metal cornice and that of 214 East 25th Street sprouted an elaborate, multi level ornament.    

Bands of cherubs and classical caryatids grace the top floor.  A carved grotesque mask stares from below the cornice.

There were four apartments per floor in the building, two each in the front and rear.  Because a large livery stable directly behind the building on East 24th Street created odors and a less than optimal view, the rents for the rear apartments were cheaper.  Rents for the fourth floor apartments, for instance, were $18 in the front and $14 in the back.  ($615 and $478 respectively in 2025 terms.)

Among the first residents were Michael Fitzpatrick and his wife.  Fitzpatrick was a lineman for the Metropolitan Telephone Company.  Whether it was the novelty of his potentially dangerous profession, insufficient training on safety precautions or simply his recklessness that resulted in his frightening experience on August 2, 1890 is unclear.  He was working on a telephone pole when an electrical shock "knocked [him] from the pole," according to The Sun.  He was "laid up for three weeks," said the newspaper.

A week after returning to work, Fitzpatrick, described by The World as "a big, burly man, weighing over two hundred pounds," was thrown from a pole at Bowery and Third Street from a second electrical shock.

Michael Fitzpatrick again returned to work.  Then, on September 23, The World reported that he, "had a narrow escape from death as a result of contact with a live electric wire at Eightieth street and First avenue yesterday afternoon."  With that shock, Fitzpatrick "threw up his arms and fell from the pole unconscious, striking a wagon that stood at the curb," said the article.

Someone ran to a nearby church and two priests arrived.  They administered extreme unction to the supposed dying man.  He regained consciousness by the time an ambulance arrived.  "The surgeon found a burn six inches in length and about two inches in width on the left side of Fitzpatrick's neck," said The World.  "It had been literally roasted by the electric current.  His shoulder was also dislocated by the fall."  In reporting on the incident on October 4, 1890, the Western Electrician said, "Fitzpatrick is either particularly unfortunate or careless in the handling of electric wires."

Other early residents were Rev. Andrew P. Ekman, the pastor of the First Swedish Baptist Church on East 20th Street; John McRobbie, a traveling carpet salesman; and James Quirk, a gripman for the Metropolitan Street Railway Company.  (A gripman controlled the streetcar.) 

In 1893, Koplowsky sold 212 and 214 East 25th Street to Daniel Ohl.  He and his family occupied apartments in No. 212.

A tragedy occurred here that spring.  Two years earlier, in November 1891, Matthew and May Crown were married and moved into 214 East 25th Street.  The bride was 17 years old.  Matthew worked as a waiter.

Crown returned home from work on the evening of May 4, 1893 and found the apartment door locked.  The New York Herald reported, "thinking his wife had gone out for a walk he waited some time for her."  When she did not return, Crown called the janitor who forced the door open.  They found May, now 19 years old, "lying on the floor in the kitchen near the sink."  Next to her was an empty bottle labelled carbolic acid.

Salesman John McRobbie, who worked for the Philadelphia carpet manufacturer Nathan Miller, was on the road in January 1895.  The 45-year-old checked into the Merchant's Hotel in Albany where, according to the Syracuse, New York Daily Standard, he "was found dead in his room."  The article said, "the cause is supposed to have been heart disease."

Mrs. H. Wagner was drawn into an investigation of a jewel theft ring in 1898.  On January 9, The Sun reported that police in Pittsburgh "have uncovered a nest of diamond thieves, with headquarters in New York."  Two suspects, said the article, "shipped to Mrs. H. Wagner, 214 East Twenty-fifth street, New York, a satchel containing, in all probability, some stolen diamonds."  The New York City police intercepted the satchel at the express office.

Inside, hidden within clothing, were diamonds and a gold ring.  A letter addressed to Mrs. Wagner directed her to "sell the diamonds and that [the writer] would write to her later from Columbus, O."

Mrs. Wagner pleaded innocence.  She explained that six weeks earlier she had rented a spare room in her apartment.  She told a reporter from The Sun, "She asked no questions of him...He went out every morning at about 9 o'clock and returned at night at about 10 o'clock.  He paid his rent regularly."  According to her, he had left two weeks earlier and asked her to forward him some clothing he had left at a laundry.  She did so and asked him to return the valise.  She presumed, she said, that was the bag the police intercepted.

Her alibi did not stand up in court.  George Phelps and John Wyland, the "notorious diamond pluckers," as described by The Pittsburgh Press, were found guilty on March 7, 1898, and Mrs. Wagner was convicted as being "a fence."

Resident Samuel Brown found himself behind bars, too, the following year.  On July 25, 1899, The Sun reported that he and John T. Pomeroy had been arrested for having robbed William D. Davis and Eberhard Meyer at the Lawless's Hotel.  According to both men, on separate incidents a year earlier, while drinking in the hotel's barroom, they were administered knockout drops.  When they regained consciousness, they found their cash and valuables were gone.

Twenty-six-year-old Lizzie Hall moved into a three-room, rear apartment on the first floor in January 1902.  According to The New York Evening World, "Her real name was Lizzie Otto and she is said to have come from a wealthy family of Stroudsburg, Pa."  The newspaper said, "She was a habitue of the resorts along Third avenue from Fourteenth street to Twenty-eighth street."  It was an indictment of her respectability.

Lizzie became the mistress of Christian Ganze, a tailor on South Street, and he moved into her apartment.  Early in August, she kicked him out and began an affair with Arthur W. Campbell, a married window dresser.  Ganze did not relinquish his lover quietly.  On the night of August 25, according to The World, "in a saloon at Twentieth street and Third avenue Ganze attempted to kill her."

Arthur W. Campbell was out of work at the time.  Two days later, he told his wife he was going out to try to find work.  "After leaving her he went directly to the rooms of the Hall woman," reported The World. 

The Kahn family were Lizzie's across-the-hall neighbors.  Mrs. Kahn heard Campbell arrive, followed by Ganze.  (Apparently Mrs. Kahn kept close tabs on the movements of her neighbors.)  The New York Times reported, "A few moments later Mrs. Kahn...heard sounds of scuffling in the latter apartments."  About an hour later, she "heard the sounds of another struggle, followed by four revolver shots."  Police arrived to discover Lizzie and Campbell dead in the living room, "each with a bullet wound in the heart."  The World reported, "Ganze put a bullet in the base of his brain, shattering the spinal cord."

Bertha Strangohr and her daughter Caroline occupied an apartment in 1911.  They were, in the words of The New York Times, "in poor circumstances."  An eviction notice was tacked on their door demanding that they leave by June 21.  According to Caroline, who was 17, she found a job and "intended to try to earn money to pay the rent."  She dressed and headed out on June 21 (the eviction date).  Her mother, who said "she thought her daughter was going to leave her," blocked her way.

Patrolman Leidig was standing on the corner of 25th Street and Second Avenue when a boy told him "there was some trouble in the tenement" at 214 East 25th Street.  He found Bertha and Caroline struggling in the hallway.  "He separated the two women, and then the daughter fell into a stupor," reported The New York Times.  Bertha had attempted to prevent Caroline's leaving by placing a towel soaked in chloroform over her head.  Bertha was arrested for attempted homicide and was committed to Bellevue Hospital "where she will be held for five days for observation," said the article.  Caroline recovered at the hospital.

A light snow was falling when this photograph was taken in 1941.  NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Other residents would be on the wrong side of the law over the coming decades.  Sam Scianti and his brother, Frank, alias Larry Scianti, were arrested in November 1925 for the hold-up of employees of the J. M. Sachs Shoe Company.  In 1932 15-year-old John Kelly was arrested on a grand larceny charge, and the following year he was detained for possessing a revolver.  In November 1933, the teen was wounded in a gunfight in a waterfront tavern during which his friend, Francis Smith was killed.  Three months later, in February 1934, Kelly, now 17 years old, attempted to hold up the grocery store of Minar Popeiian with a friend.  Kelly shot and killed the storekeeper.  The New York Sun reported that he told police, "I had to shoot him.  He grabbed my pal."

In November 1933, longshoreman William Costello was shot through the ear by an attacker.  A month later he got into a "gun battle," as worded by The Evening Post, with police and was killed.  His brother, John "Kiki" Costello, also a longshoreman, was killed on June 15, 1937.  The New York Evening Post said, "In the bloody records of recent waterfront warfare, police sought today a clue to the identify of two gunmen who last night put a leaden end to the questionable career of John (Kiki) Costello, twenty-nine-year-old West Side roustabout."

Charles Catalano lived here on January 6, 1947 when he was arrested during the armed robbery of the clerk of the Hotel Belmore at 25th Street and Lexington Avenue.  He was charged with robbery, felonious assault and violations of the Sullivan Law (a restrictive gun law).  Eight years later, Catalano, now 38, was still living here.  On June 17, the Star-Journal reported that he had been arrested as a suspect "in the stickup of the bank at 140-17 Queens boulevard."

Residents continued to bring unwanted publicity to the building.  Sharon Ann Walley and Joanne Sadier, 22 and 20 years old respectively, were arrested on September 1, 1968 "charged with the sale of a dangerous drug," according to The Kingston Daily Freeman.  The two women had sold LSD to an undercover detective.

Despite its sometimes sketchy history, 214 East 25th Street and its two architectural siblings, survive as exceptionally striking examples of late Victorian tenement design.

photographs by the author

The 1852 259 Seventh Avenue

 

Thomas Kenzie operated his "grates" shop in the ground floor of 223 Seventh Avenue as early as 1853.  (The address would be changed to 259 in 1868.)  Grates were important elements of mid-19th century fireplaces.  At a minimum, they held the coal above the fireplace floor, providing oxygen to the fuel.  The most elaborate examples included decorative panels that protected the fireplace opening.

Grates elevated the coal and made removal of ashes convenient.

The brick-faced building that held Kenzie's shop was four stories tall.  Its Italianate design included cast metal lintels and a wooden cornice with a deep fascia board and paired scrolled brackets.  The upper floors were operated as a working-class rooming house.  Living above Thomas Kenzie's shop in 1853 were three laborers (a carpenter, a tinsmith, and a porter) and one tenant who was either out of work or retired.  Nearly all of the residents had Irish surnames and several of them would have had wives or small families, making conditions crowded.

By the first year of the Civil War, the names of the tenants had changed from Irish to German.  Living here in 1861 were Frederick A. Baltzer, a saloon owner; peddlers Lewis Dorf and Jacob Strauss; Solomon Wertheimer, a butcher; William Gagal, a "tinman;" tailor William Radlaen; and Joseph Wagner, a turner.  The shop space was now shared by Jacob Rosenberg's fancygoods store and Jacob Schaseets shoe shop.

Children of working class families were expected to contribute to their finances.  On April 23, 1863, an ad was posted in the "Situations Wanted" column of The New York Times:

As chambermaid, &c.--A respectable girl wants a situation in a private family to do upstair work and fine washing and ironing, or attend to children; she has excellent City reference.  Call at No. 223 7th-av., between 24th and 25th sts.

Andrew Leopold (sometimes spelled Leupold) opened a butcher store here in 1864 and would remain for six years.  On April 26, 1870, an ad offered "Store to Let--No. 259 Seventh Avenue, one door from Twenty-fifth street."  At the time, among the upstairs tenants (who included an upholsterer and two smiths, for example) was a sculptor, Joseph Winterl.  He would remain here at least through 1880.  Winterl most likely worked in several of the stone carving shops throughout the city that provided decorative architectural elements and fireplace mantels.

Peter Carley lived here with his widowed mother, Mary, in the late 1880s.  Born in 1848, he joined the Customs Service in 1875 as a night inspector (today's security guard).  Mary died on January 31, 1890 and her funeral was held in their rooms on February 3.

Peter Carley, who never married, continued to live here.  He was working at the Barge Office on the night of December 13, 1893.  Just before midnight, another inspector offered him an orange.  The Evening World reported, "As he reached for it he fell to the floor.  In half an hour he was dead."  Authorities assumed that the 45-year-old had suffered a heart attack.

A French couple arrived in New York City in the summer of 1895.  They took rooms here and looked for work.  An ad in The New York Times read, "Cook--By a French cook; best references from Paris and New-York; as extra in private families.  Mme. Boulard, 259 7th Av."  Her husband placed an advertisement on January 26, 1896 that read, "Upholsterer and Decorator--Draperies, curtains, and mattresses; private house work a specialty; prices moderate.  E. Boulard, 259 7th Av."

Patrick and Mary Reilly lived here in 1902 with their two-year-old daughter.  Reilly worked as a cabman for the Hoffman House.  On July 30 that year, Mary was using naptha to clean their rooms.  The highly flammable mixture was a common cleaning product.  She left the opened can in the room with her daughter for a moment.  The New York Herald reported, "Turning, she saw a sheet of flame sweep upward and a cloud of smoke burst from the room."  Mary "threw her apron over her head and face and dashed through the flame and smoke to the rescue of her daughter."  The article said although her apron caught fire, her hair was singed and her arms and face burned, "she did not stop till she had picked up the child and carried it through the fire."  She fell unconscious on the threshold of the door into the hallway.

Mary Reilly and her daughter were rescued and although Mary's burns were severe, they were not fatal.  The newspaper lauded her "brave deed" that "saved her baby from an awful death."  (The damage to the furniture in their rooms was estimated at $100, or about $3,760 in 2025.)

On April 4, 1908, the venerable Fifth Avenue Hotel closed and within weeks its demolition began.  James Gilroy lived at 249 Seventh Avenue at the time, and on July 29 the unlucky 30-year-old was passing by the site.  The Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported that he, "was struck in the head by a piece of flying rock during a blast at the old Fifth Avenue Hotel."  He was taken to New York Hospital with a possible skull fracture.

Resident Chester Carey was described by The Evening World on October 25, 1912 as, "a red headed youth who told the Court that he had no occupation."  He was in a Brooklyn court after being arrested the previous day "while he was trying to break into some of the children's lockers in one of the hallways" of the Boys' High School.  The principal had earlier notified police of a series of small thefts.  When Carey was confronted, he attempted to pass himself off as a gas inspector, but when he could not produce identification from the company, he was arrested.

On March 5, 1920, The New York Times reported that "a furrier" had purchased 259 Seventh Avenue, "who will remodel the building for his own occupancy."  The upper floors were converted for commercial purposes and in October that year, Jacob Newman & Nathan Pozin leased the second floor.   The following month, an advertisement in The New York Times sought, "Bookkeeper and correspondent; capable, experienced; state references.  L. Newman & Co. 259 7th Av."

The 1920 renovation resulted in a restaurant on the ground floor.  An eatery would remain in the space for decades to follow.  

In 1941 a cafeteria occupied the ground floor while "light manufacturing" took place upstairs.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

By the mid-1940s, the upper floors were occupied by the J. C. Manufacturing Company.  It made parts of sewing machines.

The upper portion of the building returned to domestic use in the late 20th century.  It holds three apartments today.

photographs by the author