John H. Duncan's' 1906 119-121 Fifth Avenue

 

photograph by Beyond My Ken

Refined gentlemen's clubs discreetly slipped into the mansion neighborhood of Fifth Avenue in the mid-19th century.  The 25-foot wide, five-story brownstone mansion at 119 Fifth Avenue was home to the Circulo Colon-Cervantes club in 1891, while the Salmagundi Art Club had leased space next door at 121 Fifth Avenue since 1888.  At the turn of the century, however, commerce was changing the face of the once-elegant residential neighborhood.

On June 17, 1905, the Record & Guide reported, "John H. Duncan...is preparing plans for an 8-sty store and loft building to be erected for Lord & Taylor."  An annex to its store at 901 Broadway, it would replace 119 and 121 Fifth Avenue.  The article noted, "The old buildings will be torn down July 1st."

Completed in 1906, Duncan's neo-Renaissance style structure was faced with stone and cream-colored brick.  The banded piers of the storefront carried into the upper floors as rustication.  Called by the Record & Guide as "of exceptional dimensions and finish," it was distinguished by the four-story arches at the third through sixth floors; their keystones carved with lions' heads.  Sitting above an ornately carved bandcourse of leaves and strapping, the top floor was decorated with elaborate terra cotta panels.  The cornice wore a crown of copper anthemions.  

The altered mansions next door were similar to those originally on the site.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Lord & Taylor would not remain in the building for especially long.  In 1914, it moved into its new store at 38th Street and Fifth Avenue.  After using the building for storage for two years, in 1916 Lord & Taylor leased 119-121 Fifth Avenue to the New York Merchandise Company.

A wholesale firm, the New York Merchandise Co. was a large importer, "catering particularly to the chain variety and chain department stores, as well as to the independent merchants," as described by the Chain Store Age in October 1929.  Its wide variety of products was priced "reasonably;" leading to the firm's marketing itself as the House of Reasonable Prices.  An advertisement on July 26, 1920 promised, "When you arrive at the House of Reasonable Prices, you are going to find yourself in a mighty pleasing position."

Ten days after America entered World War I, the firm tapped into national patriotism.  The New York Times, April 16, 1917 (copyright expired)

The firm staged an annual "New York Merchandise Exhibition" in the building, inviting buyers worldwide.  The exhibition in 1920 ran from July 26 to August 14, and its announcement promised buyers, "You are going to 'rub shoulders' with buying representatives from many sections of the globe."

New York Merchandise Co. moved out in 1923 and 119-121 Fifth Avenue was acquired by L. Straus & Sons, importers of tableware.  It leased space to a variety of tenants.  In its February 1925 issue, The Boys' Outfitter reported, "Morris Asinof & Sons, manufacturers of boys' clothing, have moved...to larger quarters at 119-121 Fifth avenue, New York."  

Another tenant was H. Clay Glover Co., Inc., maker of hair tonics.  An advertisement for its Imperial Mange Medicine in The Des Moines Register said it, "is positively guaranteed to cure dandruff.  Its clean, undisguised odor shows you the difference immediately."

By 1927, L. Straus & Sons reorganized by merging with kitchen equipment makers Walter J. Buzzini, Inc.  The New York Times reported on October 3, "The business of both companies will be operated in the name of Nathan Straus & Sons, Inc. 119 Fifth Avenue."

Nathan Straus, Jr. had served as a member of the New York State Senate from 1921 to 1926.  Before that, he had been assistant editor of the New York Globe.  Leaving his seat in the Senate did not signal the end of his involvement in politics.  On May 17, 1928, The New York Times reported, "A protest against the plan to cut a memorial drive through Central Park to join the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the American Museum of Natural History was the last official act of the Central Park Association."  The article said that legal papers had been signed "at the office of former Senator Nathan Straus, Jr. at 119 Fifth Avenue."

Nathan Straus & Sons left 119-121 Fifth Avenue on April 1, 1929.  Initially, garment manufacturers occupied most of the spaces.  Morris Asinoff & Sons still occupied a floor here, joined in 1930 by Lipps Bros., makers of men's clothing, which also leased a full floor.  The firm was founded that year by brothers Philip, Charles L., and Bernard H. Lipps.

In 1937, Taiyo Trading Company, Inc., importers of Japanese goods, leased the first floor and basement.  It dealt in housewares like hand-painted china chocolate sets and tea services.  It would remain here until 1953.

A major tenant arrived in 1938 when the New York offices of Philip Morris & Company moved into the third through eighth floors.  Twenty-two years later, on March 1, 1960, The New York Times reported, "Philip Morris & Co., has moved its executive offices to the new building at 100 Park Avenue."

Philip Morris & Company plastered the facade with advertisement in 1941.  The copper crown of the cornice was already lost.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

With the leaving of Philip Morris & Company, architect William J. Minogue was hired in 1950 to make $30,000 worth of interior renovations (about $391,000 by 2025 conversion).  The alterations also anticipated the New York State Employment Services offices, which moved into the building in October 1951.  The New York Times said the move "would be made just in time to start the annual drive to meet the holiday season demand for sales persons."

A perhaps unexpected client of the New York State Employment Services in 1955 was the United States Air Force.  On December 20, The New York Times reported, "The Air Force is seeking 800 teachers and school administrators to place in overseas jobs next fall," and that the applicants "from this area are being interviewed at the office of the New York State Employment Service at 119 Fifth Avenue."

photograph by Ted Leather

Around 1964, Students for a Democratic Society, a part of the League for Industrial Democracy, leased an office in the building.  On December 12 that year, representatives were involved in protests at New York University and Columbia University.  The group was not protesting against the conflict in Vietnam nor any other political causes.  They were pressing for reform in institutions "where 'too much emphasis' was placed on research and graduate schools," as reported by The New York Times.

Three months later, on February 19, 1965, the Students for a Democratic Society was involved in a political event.  Opposed to the American Vietnam policies, they blocked the First Avenue entrance to the United States Mission to the United Nations for six hours.  Not unexpectedly, 14 protesters were arrested.  In the meantime, the Students for a Democratic Society held a news conference, during which 24-year-old Clark Kissinger said, "It's quite clear that the major foreign intervening power in Vietnam is the United States."

The 1960s and '70s saw disparate tenants in the building, including Youth Cosmetics, Inc.; The Homestead (which offered four different reproductions of "irresistible oil paintings "of kittens in 1968); the Executive Research Institute that offered mail order courses that would "turn your child into a classroom wizard;" and the Association for American-Soviet Friendship.

The ground floor space became a Williwear shop in April 1988, the same year that the second through fifth floors were converted for use as a trade school.  The trade school was reduced to one floor (the fifth) in 1993, when a day care center was installed in the second and third floors.

photograph by Ted Leather

John H. Duncan's handsome 1905 design survives wonderfully intact.

many thanks to reader Ted Leather for prompting this post

The O. P. Clarke House - 322 East 18th Street

 

photograph by Ted Leather

Peter Gerard Stuyvesant died on August 16, 1847.  By then, the sprawling farm or "Bouwerie" of his great-great grandfather, Governor Peter Stuyvesant, had been portioned off into city lots, and streets already crisscrossed the former farmland.

Stuyvesant’s nephew, the Reverend Peter Stuyvesant Ten Broeck, who lived in North Danvers, Massachusetts, inherited the fifteen lots on the south side of 18^th Street between First and Second Avenues.  In 1852, Ten Broeck's daughter, Cornelia Stuyvesant Ten Broeck, leased the land to developers.  The Ten Broeck family was specific on the type of construction it wanted on its land.  Building was restricted to “good and substantial dwelling houses…being three or more stories in height and constructed either of Brick or Stone.”

The house at 201 East 18th Street (renumbered 322 in 1867), was completed in 1854, one of three similar homes.  Three stories of red brick sat upon a brownstone English basement.  Its Italianate design included an arched doorway within an impressive stone frame of scrolled brackets and a substantial molded cornice.  Each of the three residences had identical, cast metal cornices with foliate brackets and paneled fascias.

photograph by Ted Leather

The house seems to have been operated from the beginning as a boarding house.  Living here in 1854 were the families of three craftsmen involved in the construction industry: Henry Berger, a carver; Samuel Myers, a moulder; and Philip Riley, a plasterer.

Boarders in the pre-Civil War years were middle-class and held white collar jobs.  In 1856, for instance, they were Michael Callagy, who operated a feed business; attorney Henry Z. Hayner; and Thomas T. Lavall, a clerk.

Henry Dix, who listed his profession as "merchant" at 25 Park Row, moved into the house around 1859.  He and his family would remain until about 1866, when Henry Beckwith and his family occupied the house.  William H. Beckwith had recently returned safely from the war.  The family was still living here on October 11, 1871 when William was promoted to Second Lieutenant in the 22nd Regiment of Infantry.

By 1876, O. P. Clarke was leasing 322 East 18th Street.  It was the scene of the funeral of Clarke's sister-in-law, Marion Marshall, on March 31, that year.  The unmarried 30-year-old had lived with the family.

On December 18, 1877, Mayor Smith Ely sent a letter to Police Commissioner Joel B. Ehrhardt, which said in part that he was responsible for the "inefficiency and maladministration of the Police Department."  Ely gave the commissioner until noon of December 20 "to show cause, if any exist, why you should not be removed from office."

O. P. Clarke and dozens of other "merchants, bankers, property-owners and tax-payers," signed a "remonstrance" to the mayor in support of Ehrhardt.  After pointing out his accomplishments, such as "raising the discipline of the force, weeding out faithless and incompetent officers, preserving the public peace," and such, the group insisted, "the general welfare of the public and the best interests of the people of this city will not be subserved by the removal of the present Commissioner of Police."  (The petition, at least in part, was successful and Ehrhardt retained his position.)

The Clarke family took in one boarder at a time.  In 1877, it was Anna Metz Byland, the editor and publisher of the German-language weekly Fortschritt.  The American Newspaper Directory noted, "the 'Fortschritt' is the only paper in the United States which is edited and published in the German language by a lady."

Less respectable was the Clarkes' next boarder, Harry Gulagy, alias Harry Somers.  The 21-year-old native of Albany was a driver of a United States mail wagon, according to the New York Herald.

Samuel Pilser slept in the rear room of his clothing store at 202 East 31st Street.  On the night of February 3, 1878, he woke to noises at the front door.  The New York Herald reported, "He lit the gas at once, and was somewhat astonished to see a man standing in the front window and coolly passing out clothing to two confederates outside."  Pilser rushed into the store and grabbed Harry Gulagy, holding him until a policeman arrived.  (The other burglars fled.)  Gulagy was held in $2,500 bail awaiting trial.  It was a significant amount, equaling more than $81,000 in 2025.

Perhaps the untidy Gulagy incident prompted the Clarkes to more carefully choose their boarders.  Gulagy was followed in 1879 by Rev. Anselan Buchanan, the assistant rector of St. George's Church.  By 1883, Rev. J. Stanley D'Orsay and his wife, Lucy, lived with the Clarkes.  Lucy C. D'Orsay contracted pleuro-pneumonia, according to the New-York Tribune that year.  She died on December 26 and her funeral was held in the parlor two days later.

After leasing 322 East 18th Street for nearly two decades, the Clarkes left in 1893 when the house was purchased by Richard F. and Mary E. July. 

Like the Clarkes, the Julys took in boarders.  In 1896, the Thomas J. Cunningham family took rooms here.  Thomas and Catherine Cunningham's adult daughter, Jennie, taught in Grammar School No. 71 on East 7th Street near Avenue C.  That year, Jennie was accused of a horrific crime--murder.

In March 1896, 11-year-old Philippine Armauer asked Jennie permission to go to the restroom.  When the girl went home that afternoon, she told her mother "that she did not feel well.  She said her teacher had refused to allow her to go to the toilet," reported the New-York Tribune.  Philippine continued to complain of pains in her lower right side and on April 21, "went to bed ill."

Philippine Armauer died on April 26.  Her doctor said the cause was "peritonitis, following colitis, or inflammation of the lower passages of the bowels, brought on by the teacher refusing to allow the child to go to the toilet," as reported by the New-York Tribune.  Corner Hoeber announced, "the teacher was criminally responsible for the child's death."

Happily for Jennie Cunningham, an autopsy cleared her of guilt.  While the girl did die of peritonitis, it was caused from appendicitis.  Had her doctor diagnosed the condition when she first complained of the pains, according to Coroner Hoeber, "The child's life could have been saved by an operation."

Despite the findings, it seems that Jennie Cunningham lost her job.  An advertisement in the New-York Tribune on September 21, 1897, read, "Kindergartner, 12 years' experience, wishes position as visiting teacher, school or family.  Kindergarten and German.  Best references."

The exterior shutters were all tightly closed on the summer day of 1941 when this photo was captured.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Thomas J. Cunningham died here on November 23, 1902, and Catherine Cunningham died on June 20, 1911.  

In the meantime, Richard F. July worked for the city.  On December 1, 1901, he was appointed a stenographer for the State Courts earning $3,600 per year (a comfortable $137,000 in 2025 terms). 

In 1912, the Julys' son, Robert H, graduated from the College of the City of New York with a law degree.  Three years later in February 1915 (and still living with his parents), he founded the Herilhy Hull Co., a foodstuffs corporation, with Ross McCombe and Harry C. Wing.  

Richard F. July was still working as a court stenographer in 1920, now earning an annual salary of $4,200.  Robert was still living here in 1924 and practicing law.  The family left 322 East 18th Street in the early Depression years, when Carl W. and Hilda Lenner occupied the house.  Lenner was a structural iron worker employed by Mason & Henger.

photograph by Ted Leather

A renovation completed in 1971 resulted in a doctor's office in the basement level.  That was converted to a two-bedroom apartment by 1991.  Externally, little has changed to the venerable building.

many thanks to reader Ted Leather for suggesting this post.

The Altered John R. Hedley House - 96 West Houston Street

 

image via cityrealty.com

Thousands of citizens fled New York City to Greenwich Village following the outbreak of yellow fever in 1822.  The population explosion necessitated a flurry of construction.  Established builders were soon joined by unexpected speculators, like John R. Hedley, who erected a two-and-a-half story house at 96 Houston Street around 1828.

Before 1808, Nicholas Bayard III had cut a road through his property which he named Houstoun Street, named for his son-in-law, William Houstoun.  It was later corrupted to Houston Street, and when it was extended east to connect with North Street, this section became West Houston Street.

The brick-faced house originally featured a stone stoop.  Its Federal design included Flemish bond brickwork, splayed and stepped lintels, and two dormers at the attic level.  

Originally, 96 West Houston would have looked very much like its contemporary at 195 West Houston Street.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

Hedley leased the residence.  In 1829 it was shared with the families of William R. Thurston, the president of the Merchants' Insurance Company; and Gilbert Everinghim, a fabrics dealer, and his wife, the former Phoebe Delaplaine.  The following year, merchant Israel S. Tucker and his family occupied the house.

By the end of the Civil War, the ground floor of 96 West Houston Street had been converted for business.  A. Loppin's shop, here as early as 1871, created trimmings for milliners.  On September 1, 1871, he advertised, "Artificial Flowers--Good hands wanted; none but first-rate workers need apply," and on September 12, 1883, an ad in The Sun read, "Ostrich Feathers--Wanted, a girl 14 years old to learn the trade."

At the time, Andreas Eppler and his wife, the former Annie Deisenroth, ran the Appenzeller Hof, a boarding house for German immigrants on Wooster Street.  Among their boarders was John Roggenbrod.  Unknown to the Epplers, he was seriously disturbed and developed a dangerous infatuation with Annie, one that festered even after he moved out.

On January 14, 1884, Annie went to the Washington Market with $800.  She never returned.  Andreas, according to The New York Times, spent all his money "in hunting for his wife."  He lost the boarding house and opened "a miserable little restaurant in the two-story frame building No. 7 Chrystie-street."

In the meantime, Annie was frantically trying to get back to her husband.  The day she disappeared, Roggenbrod met her at the market, "put a [drugged] handkerchief to her face, and made her oblivious of all that happened until she found herself in a railroad station at Philadelphia," reported The Times.  Roggenbrod told her he "would kill her rather than lose her."  He took her money and forced her to live as his wife, moving around until they took rooms at 96 West Houston Street.  After living there for six weeks, Annie finally saw a chance to escape.

During the second week of July 1885, she appeared at Andreas's restaurant and "regaled her spouse with her adventures," said The New York Times.  She told him she feared for her life and Eppler promised to protect her.  She would need protection, as it turned out, twice.

On August 15, Annie left the restaurant to buy meat on Bayard Street.  Andreas watched her from the window and saw Roggenbrod following her.  He caught up with him just as Roggenbrod was about to seize Annie by the shoulder.  The Times reported, "Eppler contented himself with knocking Roggenbrod into the gutter and escorting his wife home."

Then, on August 25, Annie left again to buy provisions.  Near Forsyth and Divisions Streets, she was attacked by Roggenbrod who "struck her fiercely with his fists upon her left eye and breast, and then drawing a razor tried to cut her."  He slashed her forehead and left ear before her screams brought help from a passing man.  He held Roggenbrod until Annie was at a safe distance, then allowed him to flee.  Despite bleeding profusely, Annie pursued Roggenbrod, shouting for passersby to stop him.  When she saw a group of boys, she shouted, "Ten cents for you if you don't lose him."

Eventually Roggenbrod was found hiding in a cellar where he had attempted to cut his throat.  Annie was treated by a police surgeon then taken to her home, "suffering severely from shock, as well as from her injuries," according to The New York Times.  Roggenbrod was taken to the Chambers Street Hospital where he was arrested.

In March 1886, Andrew Jahn purchased 96 West Houston Street for $14,500 (about $500,000 in 2025 terms).  He and his wife, Maria, had at least two sons, Henry and Harry.  

The family took in roomers over the years.  Their most colorful tenant was "Sconchin" Maloney, who arrived in New York from San Francisco in 1897.  The Sun described him as "an Irishman with a Western reputation and a faculty for getting into trouble here in the East."  The newspaper said, "Out West his main business seems to have been doing work for politicians and acting as the bodyguard of millionaires."  The scrappy 60-year-old was "handy with his fists."

Since moving to New York, Maloney "spent much time around the uptown hotels and saloons," according to The Sun.  But his quarrelsome personality resulted in his being prohibited from many establishments.  "He got into so many arguments that several hotel proprietors barred him from their places." 

In November 1898, while living here, Maloney was arrested "for creating a disturbance on Broadway."  A month later, on  the evening of December 2, he walked into the Imperial Hotel to buy a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle.  Unfortunately, it was one of the establishments from which he was barred and before he could purchase the newspaper, he was ordered out.  When he refused to leave, the hotel detective, another Irishman named Joseph McMullin, attempted to eject him.  (Interestingly, the two already knew one another from San Francisco.)

Fisticuffs followed, during which McMullin "was getting the worst of the scuffle and he pulled his billy," reported the Chronicle.  Bystanders pulled the two apart and Maloney left.  But half an hour later, while Maloney was standing at the corner of Sixth Avenue and 31st Street, "McMullin ran up behind him and struck him with a club."  The fight started up again.  Both were locked up and charged with disorderly conduct.

By then, the Jahn boys were teenagers.  On September 2, 1899, an advertisement appeared in The Metal Worker that read, "Young man, 18, desires to learn tinsmith and cornice making trade; has knowledge of roofing.  Henry Jahn, 96 West Houston street, New York."  And on November 6, 1903, The City Record noted that Harry John had taken the civil service test to become a police officer.  (It was his second attempt.)

Andrew Jahn died in the house on August 4, 1908 and his funeral was held here two days later.  When Maria sold the property in April 1914 to Joseph Personeni "for about $20,000," according to the Record & Guide, it was still described as a "2-1/2 story building."  

It was most likely Personeni who changed that description, removing the stoop and lowering the doorway to the sidewalk, and raising the attic to a full third floor.  A brick parapet forewent a cornice.

Seen here in 1932, the lowering of the doorway resulted in a disproportionately large transom.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The basement level was converted to a restaurant.  Like all restaurants around the nation, it was greatly affected by the enactment of Prohibition.  And like many establishments, the Alce D'Oro quietly ignored the law.  On July 3, 1926, The Billboard reported on 21 "padlock decrees" that had been slapped on establishments by Prohibition agents.  "The Alce D'Oro, 96 West Houston street, was ordered closed for three months," said the article. 

Rocco and Rosina Bochicchio purchased 96 West Houston Street in 1929.  The Record & Guide described it now as a "tenement," meaning that it was a multi-family building.  The Bochicchios lived in one of the apartments.  

Shortly after midnight on November 10, 1931, Rocco Bochicchio notified police that his car was taken from in front of the building.  Unfortunately for him, he would not get it back--at least not in the shape it was when stolen.  

Several hours later, patrolman Edward Rogers was standing at Bayard and Mott Streets when he recognized the license plate of Bochicchio's stolen automobile.  He ordered the driver to stop.  "Instead the driver turned out the lights and stepped on the accelerator.  The car shot west in Bayard street," reported The Evening Post.

Rogers picked up another patrolman and they commandeered a delivery truck.  A scene straight from a cops-and-robbers movie followed.  The Evening Post said,

The machine with the Negroes careered through White Street and into Broadway with the patrolmen, leaning from the running boards of the truck, firing at the fugitive machine whenever it presented a target.

Another cop, John Henle, joined the chase in a taxicab.  "He also fired at the fleeing car," said the article.  At Third Avenue and 13th Street, the driver lost control and crashed Bochicchio's automobile onto the sidewalk.  He and his five passengers fled on foot.  Four were arrested shortly after.

A scar in the brickwork testifies to the original location of the entranceway.

A renovation in 1941 resulted in a store in the basement, and two apartments each on the other floors.  Among the tenants in 1944 were the Albano family: Vincent Jr., John and Geraldine.

By 1996, the commercial space was home to the Alu Showroom, an aluminum fixture firm.  It was replaced in September 2012 by Fair Folks, a cafe/art gallery.  The New York Times explained on September 27, "For $25 a month, members get unlimited coffee and espresso, and discounts on the art and design."  More recently, Sekai, Omakase, a sushi restaurant, moved in.

Despite the significant renovations, little imagination is necessary to envision 96 West Houston Street as it looked in the 1830s.

photographs by the author

The Music School Settlement (Maryhouse) - 51-55 East 3rd Street

 

Around 1835, Jonathan Wilt erected three two-and-a-half story, Federal-style homes at 51 through 55 Third Street (the "East" would come later).  Three bays wide and faced in brick, they would have had short stoops and their peaked roofs would have been pierced by dormers.  The paneled lintels (only one of which survives unscathed) were an added touch.

The original residents were middle class.  Peter R. Morgan, whose family occupied No. 51 in 1836, was a tinsmith.  His next-door neighbor by 1840 was Edward H. Arthur, a bank teller; and Theodore Banks lived at 55.  He listed his profession simply as "merchant."

Expectedly, the homes went through a series of ownerships over the coming decades.  In 1853, the Winterton family occupied No. 51.  William Winterton ran a coal business and William B. Winterton was an attorney.  Living next door were the Goodmans.  Max and Samuel Goodman were merchants, Samuel listing his business as "clothing."  The family was still here in 1863 when David H. Goodman suffered a horrible tragedy.  Without giving specifics (like the boy's name), The New York Times reported on August 19:

A son of Mr. David H. Goodman, of No. 53 Third-street, was accidentally run over, and instantly killed, last evening, in Third-street, by car No. 11 of the Second-avenue line.  The boy was 5 years of age.

Joseph and Elizabeth Demmer owned 51 East 3rd Street as early as 1876.  Demmer operated two "eatinghouses," one on Lispenard Street and the other on Canal.  The couple sold the house to Robert and Maria Bley in 1886 for $13,000 (about $447,000 in 2025 terms).  They hired architect Julius Kastner to built a piazza (or back porch) soon afterward.

It was about this time that the attics of all three houses were raised to a full story.

In the 19th century, a common method of disposing of inconvenient relatives was to have them committed to an asylum.  On July 6, 1889, Christian Grotrian, who lived at 53 East 3rd Street, committed his wife, Louise, to the Bloomingdale Insane Asylum.  He then moved Mrs. Mina Fischer into the house, allegedly as his housekeeper.

Christian Grotrian died in January 1892.  The World reported, "He was wealthy and owned $50,000 worth of real estate."  (The figure would translate to $1.78 million today.)  On October 12, the newspaper noted, "Mina Fischer lived at the Grotrian house.  She is in possession [of it] now."  Also in the East 3rd Street house was, presumably, Louise Grotrian's jewelry.  The World said her, "collection of diamonds was valued at $10,000."  And The Sun reported, "He left $20 a week for his wife's maintenance."

When a visitor called at the asylum, Louise asked her, according to The Sun, "where her dresses and diamonds were.  She said she had only old clothes at the asylum and that she didn't think her husband should have put Mrs. Fischer in charge of everything."  Another time, a visitor, Mary (known as Lulu) Schaffer, visited Louise accompanied by Mina Fischer.  Louise told Lulu, "Mrs. Fischer has my fur cape on."

In December, Louise Grotian, who was now 50 years old, pleaded to be released from the institution.  The Sun reported that Superintendent Lyons, "admitted that he had offered to release her last summer if some one would agree to care for her."  Apparently no one had come forward.  Louise appeared before Judge Pryor on December 16, 1892.  She was backed up by friends who "testified that she talked sensibly to them," according to The Sun.

Unfortunately for Louise, she became emotional in court.  She disrupted the proceedings by saying in part (in broken English), "I swore I would stay by [Grotrian] whenever there is hair on my head, and I declared his name ever since.  I will suffered for him when he married me for a true wife."  The Sun reported, "After a little more of this imperfect English, Judge Pryor said he thought they had heard enough."  Louise was deemed insane and returned to the asylum.

Immediately after Louise's removal from the courtroom, "a row occurred among the factions of each side in the case," reported The Sun.  Enraged that Lulu Schaefer had testified against her, "Mrs. Mina Fischer, sole executrix of the will of Grotrian, said, shaking her fist at Mrs. Lulu Schaefer: 'I've won, and I'll have my revenge on you."

In the meantime, No. 53 was being operated as The Jewish Mission by D. Landsmann.  Landsmann founded the mission on July 12, 1883.  In his 1896 Lutherans In All Lands, Rev. J. N. Lenker wrote that Landsmann worked "with great zeal among orthodox Jews, who had but recently arrived from Russia, Galicia, Poland, and Hungary."

The Jewish Mission ended here in 1903 when the house and 55 East 3rd Street were acquired by the Society of Music School Settlement.  Founded by Emilie Wagner in 1894, her goal was to provide music and culture to immigrant children.  Architect Grosvenor Atterbury was hired to convert the vintage houses to a single "three-story and basement brick and stone Settlement House," as described in his plans in June 1904.  The alterations were significant--entailing the refiguring of the interior walls, the removal of the stoops and eliminating the doorway of No. 55, and creating an arched, Colonial-inspired entrance at 53 East 3rd.

In its June 1904 issue, The New Era remarked that the settlement, "is soon to be quartered in the large and commodious building at Nos. 53-55 East Third Street, which is now being remodelled [sic]."

Within five years, the Music School Settlement had outgrown its new home.  In 1909, 51 East 3rd Street was acquired and the architectural firm of Bosworth & Holden was commissioned to integrate it into the complex.  At the same time, they added a floor to No. 55 and gave the buildings matching, projecting cornices.

Wreaths decorate the windows as students pose outside the building in the snow in 1917.  Musical America, February 24, 1917 (copyright expired)

In 1913, a piano tuning class for the blind was initiated here.  The Outlook for the Blind reported in autumn that year, "The first class started with eight pupils; the number has now increased to 40."

The Outlook, February 22, 1908 (copyright expired)

The 1916 Status and Value of Music in Education said that 800 children were enrolled here and explained, 

They are taught piano, violin and 'cello, sight reading, musical theory, ensemble playing and singing.  They pay twenty-five cents a lesson, and scholarships are given to those too poor to pay.  Success has been so great that thousands have been turned away.

The Outlook, February 22, 1908 (copyright expired)

The Music School Settlement orchestra gave an annual Spring Concert in Aeolian Hall.  On April 18, 1920, The Sun reported, "A hundred boys and girls of the cliff dwelling [i.e. tenement] section of New York called 'the lower East Side'...gave a sophisticated audience one of the surprises of the winter."  The article said that many of the society folk "went in a complacent sort of way because of the request of some friends, they had made out annual checks for a settlement house they had heard much about."  Expecting mediocrity, they were stunned.

The Outlook, February 22, 1908 (copyright expired)

The performances of the 6- to 14-year-old musicians were "an eye opener," said the article.  "It was a concert that satisfied a refined musical sense and amazed some persons in the audience who still regard the 'lower East Side' as a sort of foreign land."

The Junior Orchestra rehearsing in the Music School Settlement.  Musical America, February 24, 1917 (copyright expired)

In 1974, the Music School Settlement moved to East 11th Street.  The East 3rd Street property was acquired by the Catholic Worker Movement, which christened it Maryhouse.  It was founded in 1933 in part by journalist, social activist and  anarchist Dorothy Day.  Maryhouse offers shelter to the homeless.  

Writing in The Catholic Worker on March 1, 1981, David Beseda and Ruth Clements said, 

The overwhelming needs of the people in the street have exerted continuing pressure on our lives at Maryhouse as we try to keep our doors open to those in need.  Like other houses of hospitality, we rarely have an empty bed these days, and since we are trying to live together as a family there is always a tension between keeping a quality of life in the house that is peaceful and personal and, on the other hand, wanting to respond to everyone that comes to us.

Looking somewhat bedraggled today, Maryhouse continues to assist and house those in need.

photographs by the author

The 1899 James A. O'Gorman House - 318 West 108th Street

 

image via apartments.com

Architects Janes & Leo had a close relationship with Joseph A. Farley, designing several rows of speculative, upscale rowhouses for the developer in the 1890s.  On October 7, 1898 the firm filed plans for another project: four resplendent homes at 316 through 322 West 108th Street for Farley.  

Completed late in 1899, 318 West 108th Street was faced in red brick above a limestone-clad base.  The centered entrance atop a two-step stoop sat within a dignified Georgian-style portico.  The three-story midsection included a bowed oriel at the third floor.  The fourth floor sat atop a dentiled and bracketed cornice, while a much more modest terminal cornice completed the design.

The entrance originally sat between the service entrance and a window.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In January 1900, Joseph A. Farley sold 318 West 108th Street, "a new 5-story American basement dwelling," as described by the Record & Guide, to Justice James Aloysius O'Gorman.  He paid $42,500 for the 22-foot wide house, or about $1.64 million in 2025 conversions.  (O'Gorman had negotiated the price down.  On January 9, The Sun noted, "Mr. Farley was asking $45,500 for the house.")

In reporting the sale, The Sun added, "The buyer is a well-known lawyer."  Born on May 5, 1860, O'Gorman was born "in the upper west side of the great city, not very far from where his present residence, No. 318 West 108th street, is situated," according to The Red Book in 1911.

O'Gorman graduated from New York University School of Law in May 1882.  He juggled his law practice with politics and in 1896 was a delegate to the Democratic National Convention.  He had become justice of the District Court in 1893 and just after purchasing 318 West 108th Street, was elected as a justice of the New York Supreme Court's 1st District.

James Aloysius O'Gorman, from the collection of the Library of Congress

O'Gorman married Anne M. Leslie in 1884.  The couple had seven daughters and a son.  Moving into the 108th Street house was the justice's widowed mother, Ellen.

Ellen O'Gorman suffered a stroke just after New Year's in 1905.  She died early on the morning of January 19.  The Evening World reported that O'Gorman's "secretary telephoned the tidings from the home of the Justice...to Clerk Early, of Part 4, Special Term, of the Supreme Court.  The court was adjourned in consequence."

Like most well-to-do New Yorkers, the O'Gormans spent time in Europe.  The Ithaca [New York] Daily News mentioned, "He has several times taken the entire family abroad, spending no less than $3,500 for steamship tickets alone."

The toughness that James O'Gorman learned as a boy on the streets of his Irish neighborhood came into play as an adult on April 4, 1908.  When he returned home that night, as reported by the Ithaca Daily News, "he discovered a big negro in the house, beating and robbing his butler."  The invader was no match for the 48-year-old jurist.  The article said, "Justice O'Gorman beat the man into subjection with his fists, and then turned him over to the police."

On September 27, 1908, the O'Gormans invited "a number of friends" to the house.  During the evening, the engagement of Mary O'Gorman, the eldest daughter, to Dudley Field Malone was announced.  The wedding took place in the Church of the Ascension on West 107th Street on November 14.  The wedding breakfast followed in the West 108th Street house.

Ellen Katherine O'Gorman was married to William J. Duffy in the Church of the Ascension on March 28, 1910.  The reception followed at 318 West 108th Street.  At the reception, Edith Patricia O'Gorman's engagement to Assistant District Attorney James Edward McDonald was announced.  Their wedding was to take place at the Church of the Ascension in 1911.

On June 18, 1910, the entire O'Gorman family sailed for Europe.  While they were in a little Swiss town, James McDonald sent a telegram to the family "that he could not wait, and said that he would go to Switzerland on the next steamship," reported the New-York Tribune.

On September 9, The New York Times reported that the wedding "took place yesterday morning at the Church of St. Leonhard, Brunnen, Switzerland."  The wedding breakfast was held at the Grand Hotel where the O'Gorman family was staying.  The Times said, "Mr. and Mrs. McDonald will return to this country in October after a honeymoon spent in England and on the Continent."

Shortly after the wedding, Edith became ill.  When the newlyweds returned to New York, according to the New-York Tribune, Edith, "felt too ill to go to an apartment which her husband fitted up for her, and they went to live with her father."  Tragically, the 23-year-old bride died in the 108th Street house on November 18, 1910 "from heart disease."  Her funeral was held in the drawing room on November 21.

The following spring, James A. O'Gorman was elected to the U.S. Senate.  He would split his time between Washington D.C. and 318 West 108th Street until the end of his term on March 3, 1917.

In December 1911, the O'Gormans were "in the midst of the family's preparations for the Christmas festivities," when daughter Anna fell ill.  The New York Times said, "she was removed on Dec. 22 from the O'Gorman home" to St. Luke's Hospital.  There she was diagnosed with typhoid fever.  The newspaper said, "Her illness has led to a postponement of the O'Gormans' plans to leave for Washington this month with the idea of making that city their home for the Winter."  Happily, on December 31, the Washington D.C. Herald reported that Anna "had responded to treatment and is progressing as favorably as could be expected."

The O'Gorman family was in Washington in the spring of 1912.  In their absence, on the night of May 21 their 22-year-old New York chauffeur, Frank Hallett, took the O'Gorman's vehicle for a spin.  The next day, The Sun reported that the senator's chauffeur "was locked up in the West 125th street police station last night on charges of reckless driving, intoxication and disorderly conduct."  

When stopped by police lieutenant Meehan, Hallett said, "I'm Senator O'Gorman's chauffeur and I guess he's somebody.  You don't dare to arrest me.  You'll be out of a job if you do."   The Sun reported, "Senator O'Gorman and his family were all in Washington and at a late hour last night a member of the Senator's household said he guessed Hallett would have to stay in the station house until morning."

Anne Leslie O'Gorman, The Evening World, March 13, 1913 (copyright expired)

The family had another medical scare in 1913.  They were in Washington on March 11 when Anne became ill.  Dr. Howard Hume diagnosed her with "an attack of ptomaine poisoning" and advised "a complete rest," as reported by The Evening World.  Anne brought Alice, Dolorita and Anna back to New York.  The article said that she, "has no plans for her return to the capital and will absent herself from all social activities for several weeks."

Dolorita was the next to marry.  Her wedding to John Anthony Maher took place in the chapel of St. Ignatius Loyola Academy at Park Avenue and East 83rd Street (where the groom had attended) on May 23, 1913.  At the reception in the 108th Street house were the mayor and his wife, the governor and his wife, and the lieutenant governor and his spouse, a judge, Tammany leaders, and a U.S. Senator and his wife.

James A. O'Gorman, Jr. was one of the "junior rookies from schools, academies and colleges all over the United States," as reported by the New-York Tribune, who gave up their summer vacation by going to the military training camp in Plattsburg, New York.  As part of a recruiting campaign, the program gave the preppies the experience of "living the lives of soldiers."  Somewhat sarcastically, the New-York Tribune remarked that well-heeled recruits, "who brought tennis rackets, golf sticks and musical instruments found that they had no time or inclination for the lighter labors of sports."

At the end of his term on March 3, 1917, O'Gorman returned to his law practice as a partner in O'Gorman, Battle and Vandiver.

In 1921, now 23 years old, James, Jr. found himself behind bars.  The Evening World reported on June 6 that Patrolman Rerle, "charged that his prisoner, who wore a tuxedo suit, was abusive toward him."  Rerle had commanded him to move his vehicle from a no parking zone and O'Gorman refused.

The following day, James A. O'Gorman, Jr., appearing repentant, told Magistrate Silberman "that he had not heard a patrolman tell him to 'move along.'"  Whether his father's stature was an influence or not, the judge accepted his story and dismissed the charges.

Agnes O'Gorman was married to Joseph Sanford Shanley in the Notre Dame Chapel on Morningside Drive on June 15, 1922.  The reception would be the last for the family in the West 108th Street house.  On October 13, 1923, The New York Times reported, "Senator James A. O'Gorman sold his five-story American basement dwelling."

The residence was home to several families over the next few decades.  In the 1930s it was home to Harold Keller and his wife.  A journalist, Keller was with the New York American until it closed in 1937.  The newspaper's closing prompted a significant change in Keller's career.  On December 31 that year, the Daily Worker reported that the newly elected District Attorney Thomas E. Dewey had appointed the 31-year-old Keller as one of his two confidential secretaries.

By 1940, carpet merchant Frank J. Gilroy occupied the house.  That year, on September 22, he married Marion Gertrude Higgins in St. Ursula's Church in Mount Vernon, New York.

Mrs. Julie Stern occupied the house at mid-century.  The 84-year-old suffered a gruesome death at the corner of Amsterdam Avenue and 110th Street at 5:15 on the afternoon of January 14, 1951.  She was hit by a black sedan and thrown onto the street.  A woman on the sidewalk waved frantically at a oncoming taxicab driven by Frederick Burke.  So distracted by her attempts to warn him that Mrs. Stern was on the pavement, he did not see her.  The New York Times reported that she, "was killed...after she was struck by a hit-and-run car and then run over by a taxicab."  

image via apartments.com

In 1970 the former O'Gorman home was converted to eight apartments.  In the remodeling, the doorway was moved to the side and the former entrance converted into a window.   A subsequent renovation in 2010 resulted in three duplexes, one of which extends into the new penthouse level, unseen from the street.

The Lost Abingdon Square Music-Stand - Eighth Avenue and Bleecker Streets

This bandstand replaced the Victorian version in 1914.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The 1811 Commissioners' Plan extended Eighth Avenue northward through Greenwich Village, creating a trapezoidal plot of ground between it and Bank, Hudson and Troy (later West 12th) Streets.  On March 4, 1812, the Common Council declared the otherwise useless space a park.  Because it sat within the former 300-acre estate of Sir Peter Warren, whose eldest daughter had married the Earl of Abingdon, it was named Abingdon Square.  By the 1850s, both sides of the park were filling with upscale residences.

Music-stands, or bandstands, were erected throughout the city in the 19th century.  On July 28, 1894, American Art Journal remarked, "New York City spends about $25,000 a year for free music for the people...This money is used to pay for the park concerts which are given during the summer.

One of the stands was erected just south of Abingdon Square, at the southeast corner of Eighth Avenue and Bleecker Street, "a very elaborate and substantial bandstand and speakers' pagoda combined," as recalled by The New York Times decades later.  In addition to free summer concerts, the bandstand could be used by political or religious groups.  The article explained, "it was popularly supposed that it would be a sort of tribune for the discontented, somewhat after the fashion of the Hyde Park meetings in London."

The American Art Journal reported in July 1894, that "eight to ten thousand people at a concert," at Abington Square was "not an unusual thing, and an audience of four to five thousand is quite common."  Concert goers were prepared to be on their feet for some time.  "In Abingdon Square, where there are seats for nobody, the whole square becomes a solid mass of humanity on concert nights."  In the summer of 1894, there were 12 concerts--held on Wednesday evenings.  Each cost the city $140 to stage (about $5,275 by 2025 terms).

On August 29, 1895, the New-York Tribune headlined an article, "Abingdon Square's Night of Song," and reported:

One of the biggest and best-natured crowds that ever thronged through the numerous and winding thoroughfares leading to this historic spot jostled each other over curb and cobblestones, until they reached the centre of attraction, and finally became wedged in as tightly as sardines in a box, only there were more of them.

After the "Star-Spangled Banner" that night, the band turned to popular songs like "I Don't Want to Play in Your Yard," "You Don't Find a Girl Like My Girl," and Willie and I."  When Kittie Rampone, the 13-year-old daughter of the bandleader, sang "My Dad's the Engineer," the "big crowd could restrain themselves no longer, and at a signal from the fair singer, they let their voices loose on 'Daddie' and sang it with a will," said the article.

Kittie Rampone's appearance was not unusual for the Abingdon Square crowd.  For several years, as The Art Journal had mentioned a year earlier, "A pleasant feature of these Abingdon Square concerts is the singing of the children from the neighboring public schools."  On September 5, 1895, The New York Times reported on the last concert for the summer season.

The square was "in gala dress last night," said the article, which said the locals "turned out in full force to do honor to the event."  The bandstand was illuminated by calcium lights and the crowd was so dense that "it was with much difficulty that the police succeeded in keeping open a passage for the surface cars."

Among the groups that obtained permission to use the "speakers' pagoda" function of the stand in 1898 was the gospel meetings of the English revivalist minister, the Rev. Reginald Radcliffe.  On October 13, 1898 the New York Observer reported that his "twilight services" at the Abingdon Square bandstand "will be continued as long as the weather will permit."  In the previous week's service, said the article, "a choir of seventy-five voices" had aided "in the praise services."

Gospel and revivalist meetings became a mainstay here.  In an article in The Interior on August 17, 1905, Rev. Rice V. Hunter remarked, "The city has erected a bandstand [at Abington Square], which it has placed at the disposal of the evangelistic committee."  In late July that year, he said, "This stand was filled with a strong choir and thousands of people were gathered about it."

In 1909, the Abingdon Square bandstand's calcium lights were replaced with electric lighting.  The glowing lightbulbs illuminated the evening concerts and the religious and political gatherings.  On November 4, 1912, for instance, the New-York Tribune reported, "The Election Eve rally will be held from the bandstand in Abingdon Square, a famous forum for political debates."

At the time of the article however, the Victorian bandstand was about to be replaced.  In December 1912, the Board of Aldermen reported a "change in the Street Plan at the junction of 8th Avenue, Bleecker Street and Bank Street."  The plans mentioned that the area "is now partially occupied by a bandstand used for public concerts."  The following year, the city asked for bids "for the erection and completion of a public comfort station and band stand in Abingdon Square."

The new bandstand was officially opened on June 15, 1914.  Park Commissioner Cabot Ward accepted a new American flag to be flown above it.  The New-York Tribune reported, "When the flag was unfurled the New York Letter Carriers' Band played 'The Star-Spangled Banner,' and more than 10,000 school children, some of them with voices hoarse from an afternoon at the ball game, cheered madly."

Unlike the previous bandstand--which was most likely a wooden pavilion adorned with Victorian fretwork--the new octagonal structure was of stone.  The Doric columned bandstand portion sat above a public comfort station.  Like its predecessor, it was illuminated with electric lights.

Electric lights outlined the columns of the new structure and large ceiling fixtures hung within the bandstand portion.  (The comfort stations were also well lighted.)  The Edison Monthly, August 1914 (copyright expired)

The advent of radio, however, doomed summer concerts.  On September 4, 1921, The New York Times reported, "The stand is practically deserted except that upon fair days many children use it for such games as hide-and-seek and 'I Spy.'"  By mid-century, the bandstand portion was demolished, leaving only the comfort station base.

The bandstand was decapitated around mid-century.  It and the warehouse behind it were demolished in 1959.  from the collection of the New York City Parks Photo Archive.

The Abingdon Square bandstand survived until 1959, when the city demolished it to create the Bleecker Street Playground.