The Forgotten Vaults Under No. 675 Hudson Street

No. 675 Hudson Street (right) in 1927 shortly after the vaults were sealed (photo by Percy Loomis Speer -- NYPL Collection)

Commercial sailing ships arriving from Europe and England in the 19th century carried small cut stone blocks as ballast.  As the ships were loaded with American goods, the ballast stones were offloaded and abandoned.  The city, in turn, used the uniform, rectangular stones as paving bricks, creating the cobblestone streets seen throughout many sections of the city even today.

Early in 2005, one of the stone curbstones on Ninth Avenue suddenly collapsed into a void.  The cobblestones abutting it began sagging towards the hole.  The area was fenced off and bus traffic routed away.  And the ancient vaults beneath the streets were rediscovered.

Workers gained entrance through the basement of 675 Hudson Street. The 1848 vernacular neo-Greco-style building is an attention-grabbing triangular structure bounded by Ninth Avenue, Hudson Street, 14th Street at its point, and West 13th Street.  At the time of its construction, the neighborhood was changing from one of small Federal houses to a bustling commercial district a few blocks from the riverfront.  By the early 20th century, the area would become known as the Meat Packing District.

Originally No. 675 housed factory space with, possibly, rooms rented above for sailors and workers. In 1892, Gardiner & Estes shoe manufacturers employed 175 workers here.

When built, the building had access through the basement to the great brick-lined vaults that stretched underneath the busy streets above, crisscrossing and interconnecting.  Vast brick arches and square masonry pillars were hefty enough to withstand the enormous weight of the horse-drawn freight drays and coal sleds above.

Predating 675 Hudson Street by almost a decade, the vaults were used for a variety of purposes in the years before the Civil War.  Horses were stabled here, cargo and supplies were stored, and according to one account, a foundry operated.  Then, around 1920, they were abandoned and sealed, for the most part to be forgotten, although small portions of the old vaults were still available and used for storage by the business in the triangular building.

By the time the curbstone fell into the vault, the Meat Packing District was experiencing a renaissance.  The area that had become seedy and crime-ridden towards the end of the 20th century was now filling with high-end boutiques and trendy clubs.

Ari Ellis, who owned No. 675--now called the Triangle Building--was intrigued by the subterranean space.  He and the city discussed the ownership, and it was decided the space belonged to him–a gargantuan area of up to 6,500-square-feet.

Ellis initiated extensive structural repairs, restoring the pillars, arches and brickwork, waterproofing, and adding support where necessary.  (The modern trucks and other vehicles on the streets above were significantly heavier than the vaults were designed to support.)

Ellis partnered with Matt Abramcyk to convert the distinctive space into 675 Bar, 40 feet under Ninth Avenue.  Abramcyk designed the lounge which opened a few years later, making use of the unique ambience in its several rooms.

Bar 675, 40 feet below 9th Avenue -- photo joonbug.com

Meanwhile, on street level 675 Hudson Street was discovered by movie makers.  It was the setting for the apartment of Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction, in The Hours Ed Harris jumps from a window on the north corner, and in Serpico, Al Pacino nabs Rudi Casaro here.

No. 675 Hudson as seen from West 13th Street -- photo Alice Lum

Now part of the Gansevoort Historic District, both 675 Hudson Street and the once-forgotten vaults beneath the streets around it are active once again.

The Greek Revival 1834 St. Joseph's Church - 365 Sixth Avenue

photo by Alice Lum



When John Doran designed the Greek Revival style St. Joseph’s Church for the four-year-old congregation in 1833, the extensive parish boundaries stretched from Broadway to the Hudson River, and from Canal Street north to 20th Street. The church was completed a year later and was the largest church in the city after the old St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Mott Street.

Doran’s Greek temple design featured two large fluted Doric columns supporting a closed classical pediment above a recessed entranceway.  The front façade featured two large arched windows with delicate Federal-style tracery and ornamental ironwork with decorative sunflowers (now sadly gone).

Some of the early pastors of the mostly Irish-American congregation went on to prominence.  Father John McCloskey, for instance, would become the first American cardinal.  Charles Constantine Pise was the first Catholic chaplain of the U.S. Senate.  It was, however, Thomas Farrell, who made the most waves.  The liberal Farrell, who served from 1857 to 1880, aggressively espoused his progressive views.

During the Civil War, he pushed for political rights for freed Blacks and pushed for emancipation.  Upon his death, he bequeathed $5,000 to found a new parish for New York Blacks, resulting in the establishment of the Church of St. Benedict the Moor in 1883.

In 1873, he aroused the wrath of other priests when he vocally supported public schools for Roman Catholic students.  The public schools, he said, have “ample means, they can procure better talent and they do not interfere with the religious belief of their pupils.”  He called priests who threatened parents who considered public education for their children "sinners," saying they were “impressing ignorant minds with the belief that the public schools were mediums for perverting the minds of Roman Catholics and in seeking to perpetuate ignorance instead of grappling with and crushing it out.”

It was Father Farrel’s involvement with “the Accademia” that caused him problems with Cardinal McCloskey, however.  The Accademia was a group of priests who regularly met at St. Joseph’s Church and discussed radical modifications within the Roman Catholic Church, such as discarding the tradition of priestly celibacy and the Latin liturgy.  They questioned the infallibility of the Pope and, among other things, wondered aloud how nuns were capable of instructing future wives and mothers.

While the exterior of St. Joseph’s remained essentially unchanged, the interior did not.  Extensive damage was done in 1855 and again in 1885 by fires.  The early paneled and gated pews were brought in after the second fire, most likely from the gutted Third Universalist Society church a few blocks south on 6th Avenue.  A fresco above the altar was part of the ornate Victorian décor, subsequently painted over then the interior was toned down in the 20th century.

St. Joseph's Church sat behind the Sixth Avenue elevated train on March 15, 1932 -- NYPL Collection

In 1972, another interior renovation was completed, at which time the 1880s fresco–a copy of Raphael’s Transfiguration in the Vatican--was rediscovered and restored.  A subsequent remodeling in 1991 removed the charming crystal chandeliers in the galleries, miniature versions of the larger chandeliers that still exist over the main aisle.

A remarkable example of early Greek Revival religious architecture, St. Joseph's Church has been a moving force in the Greenwich Village community for nearly 200 years.  Since 2005, it has been The University Parish of St. Joseph, restructured to serve the Catholic students of New York University, Pace University, New School, and Cooper Union.

The 1908 No. 36 Gramercy Park East



The Gramercy Park Club House in 1910 -- from "The World's New York Apartment House Album" - NYPL Collection

 In the 1840s, wealthy New Yorkers began constructing elegant brownstone homes around the new Gramercy Park. When the ornate 1883 “Gramercy Park Apartments” building was completed at No. 34 Gramercy Park, only the large lot adjoining it to the north was undeveloped. The Sanderson’s Family Hotel had stood here until the 1880s when it was demolished. In 1908 the plot was undeveloped and unsightly.

Finally, on August 6 of that year The New York Times reported on plans for the site. The lot, approximately 83 feet by 84 feet, had been sold by L. Rodney Berg “to a capitalist, who will erect a high-class fireproof apartment house on the property. Each apartment will have nine rooms and three backrooms, and it is said that half of the apartments are to be sold on the co-operative home plan…The building of a fine apartment house on this site will remove the objectionable open plot that has for a long time been an eyesore to the exclusive residents and owners of property on this private park.”

The “capitalist” was John E. Olsen who commissioned James Riely Gordon to design the luxury building. The Texas-trained architect created a 12-story, Gothic Revival structure that melded well with many of the Gothic-inspired brownstone residences around the park of a half-century earlier. Gordon clad the entire building in white terra-cotta which could be easily molded into the ornate Gothic arches, colonnettes, shields, cherubs and gargoyles.

While Gordon initially intended for the first three floors to be clad in white marble, that material proved too expensive for the $300,000 projected cost of the building. Terra cotta, therefore, covered it from sidewalk to roof. At a time when the fear of fire was wide-spread, terra cotta carried with it the added marketing point of being “fireproof.”

The deep central entrance courtyard resulted in a U-shaped building, with the effect of two towers. Above the large cornice of the twelfth floor stylized knights held great shields.

Two years later The World’s New York Apartment House Album described The Gramercy Park Club House as a “modern apartment building of the French Gothic type.” The 24 apartments – two to a floor -- ranged from 8 to 10 rooms, each with three bathrooms and a “spare room for maid, valet, butler or chauffeur.”

The Album listed conveniences such as tiled fireplaces, porcelain washtubs, white tiled kitchens and bathrooms, ventilated garbage closets, safes, telephones, steam heat, mail chutes, gas ranges, shower baths, clothes dryer, both electric and gas lighting, filtered water, a vacuum cleaning system and tile lined refrigerators. A roof solarium, laundry facilities and parquet floors were intended to appeal to potential upper class residents.


Each floor had two apartments, typically as above -- from "The World's New York Apartment House Album" - NYPL Collecton


Apartments sold for $8,900 to $12,000 while some were rented for $2,350 to $3,168 a year.

And, indeed, upper class residents were attracted. Over the years apartment owners included actor John Barrymore, sculptor Daniel Chester French, circus magnate Alfred Ringling, and write Eugene O’Neill. Other well-to-do residents appeared regularly in the society pages hosting receptions and dinners.

Penthouses were added in 1917, invisible from the street, which resulted in the removal of most of the terra cotta knights along the cornice. The Works Progress Administration’s Depression Era “New York City Guide” described No. 36 as “a veritable gallery of decorative detail: terra cotta with elaborate Gothic motifs, bay windows, traceried heads, and balustrades. Cast stone figures of armored knights holding spears and flame lamps guard the entrance court of the guilding.”

photo ny.curbed.com

The cooperative, called the Gramercy Park Club, owned the building until its bankruptcy in 1946. The apartment house was sold and the units became rentals. Where there had once been 24 roomy apartments there were now 53; the grand spaces that had included libraries and maid’s quarters were reduced to a more modern scale.

Despite its prestigious location and visual appeal, No. 36 would eventually feel its age. In November 1971 tenants took to the sidewalks, picketing in front of the building protesting “the living conditions they get in return for rents of $500 or $800 a month,” according to The Times.

In 2003 the building's new owners began renovation, cleaning and polishing the marble lobby walls, replacing the old elevators and rejoining some of the cut-up apartments.

photo ny.curbed.com

Despite the changes, when condominium offering plans were issued to the residents in January 2009, some residents were still unhappy about the condition of the building. One tenant complained of “old water pipes and fluctuating temperature while showering” and of the need to carry garbage to the basement trash bins. The offering listed apartments ranging from 2,078 square feet at over $6.5 million to a tiny 323 square feet at $484,500.

photo ny.curbed.com

By late 2010 thirteen apartments had sold while renovations and upgrades continued. The incredibly ornate No. 36 Gramercy Park East remains an architectural jewel and a grand example of the heyday of terra cotta age in the early 20th Century.

The 1903 Chatham Square Library Building - 31 East Broadway

photo NYPL Collection

When Andrew Carnegie gave his gift of $5.2 million to the City of New York in 1901 to build public libraries, the Chatham Square library was situated in rented rooms at 22 East Broadway. A year later the city purchased a brick building across the street at 31 East Broadway for $63,000 as the site for the new library.

The new building, designed by McKim, Mead and White, opened in November 1903. The second library completed under Carnegie’s endowment, it was a stately limestone structure three stories high, but designed in two sections giving the impression of a two-story building. Above the cornice was a carved shield with an open book, hung with a garland of leaves,

Upon its completion The Times called it “a beautiful white stone building, which rises in marked contrast to the buildings which surround it. While there are three full stories, it has the air of but two, the front showing three large arched windows, and above is a colonnade of six columns reaching to the cornice.”

At the opening ceremonies, Arthur E. Bostick, Chairman of the Circulating Department of the New York Public Library made specific mention that there was little fiction to be found in this library and that there were twice as many books on science than in any other library in the city.

He elaborated on the reading tastes of the local residents, mostly Italians and Jews, saying that “unlike the people in the wealthier parts of the city, the population here rejects fiction to a large extent and chooses solid information on science and other serious subjects.”



A teacher helps her class on a visit to the Chatham Square Library - photo NYPL Collection

 The children’s reading room was on the first floor where children of the nearby tenements could work on lessons and read away from the cramped conditions of home. Plaster casts of classic sculpture decorated the room, donated by Susan Travers. The second floor housed the adult reading room and the newspaper and magazine room was on the third.

As more and more Chinese immigrants settled in the Chatham Square neighborhood the need for a Chinese-language library became evident. In March 1908, an new organization calling itself the Chinese Literary Club met in a room in the library to discuss the matter. Three years later the Chatham Square Library put 300 Chinese language books into circulation, creating New York’s first Chinese library.

The second floor information desk - NYPL Collection

The rich ethnic mix of library users prompted The Times in 1913 to draw a comparison of the Chatham branch to a more sedate branch. “As soon as you enter the room the salient difference between the Chatham Square district and its neighbor, Seward Park, will strike your ear…There is a strong, vital undercurrent to the voices. The place is filled with excited and spasmodic little movements only half subdued by the librarians.

“All the chatter is in a high treble. There is a vitality and exuberance and, correspondingly, impatience. The children here are from the Italian quarters and from Chinatown. There is no brooding in the faces – only zest and excited curiosity.”

A century later when paper books are quickly being replaced by electronic technology, the Chatham Square Library remains an important and well-used facility. According to the New York Public Library, it “acts as a cultural and civic center for a community of avid readers and is one of the busiest libraries in New York City.” The beautiful and refined structure was designated a New York City landmark in 2001.

The Church of San Salvatore - 359 Broome Street

photo by Alice Lum

Around 1880 a group of Italian immigrants formed the Episcopal congregation of San Salvatore. Services were held In Grace Chapel until 1885 when philanthropist and social worker Catherine Wolfe purchased the historic 1830’s St. Philip’s Episcopal Church on Mulberry Street.  The church had been used during the Draft Riots of 1863 as a shelter for the police. Wolfe, who “had become interested in work among the Italians,” according to The New York Times, paid $40,000 for the structure and spent another $5,000 in renovations.

As more and more Italians arrived through Ellis Island and settled in the neighborhood around the church, its importance grew. Services were conducted in Italian and social work for the mostly poor congregants was conducted from the building.

In 1897 came the news that the city intended to widen Elm Street, a plan that would necessitate the demolition of the Church of San Salvatore, which was by now a branch of the New York Protestant Episcopal City Mission Society.

On May 10, 1897 the church purchased the land at 359 Broome Street where Brooke’s Assembly Rooms stood. Long before the neighborhood had become an Italian enclave, Brooke’s was a gathering place for fashionable society; compared to the then-current Waldorf-Astoria, Delmonico’s restaurant or Sherry’s. Chronicler William Smith Pelletreau noted that the location was “in the very heart of the Italian community and is easily accessible to the Italians in the down town section of the city for many miles around.”

By May of 1901 the Brooke’s had been razed and plans were underway for the new church.

“The building will be in the English late perpendicular Gothic style,” reported The Times, “and the façade will be considerably higher than that of the present structure. A feature will be a large window which will be expected to light almost the whole interior. Quarters will be provided for extensive institutional work similar to that of St. Bartholomew’s, Grace Chapel and other parishes. There will be a gymnasium in the basement.”

photo Episcopal Diocese of New York Archives

The new church was dedicated in January 1903 by Bishop Potter. Pelletreau wrote that “The church has a seating capacity of eight hundred, and the average attendance at the Sunday school is about two hundred. There are three services on Sunday.”

“The services,” he said, “are entirely in the Italian language, the assistant vicar, Rev. Abraham Cincotti, being a native of Italy, and the needs and habits of the people are specially considered in every particular.”

A parish house was connected to the new church from which groups such as the San Salvatore Mutual Aid Society, Girls’ Friendly Society, Boys’ Surplice Choir, sewing and cooking classes, a Bible class and boys clubs were run.

photo Episcopal Dioces of New York Archives

San Salvatore was central to the lives of residents of Little Italy for decades. The New York Times commented on the traditional Maundy Thursday rites of the old country still being observed at the church in 1940. “Members of the Italian families of the neighborhood entered the church silently, placed under a twenty-foot cross their offerings consisting of small wheat and lentil plants, and then knelt in prayer.”

With time the Little Italy neighborhood changed. Chinatown spread into the streets once populated almost exclusively by Italian and Jewish families. San Salvatore eventually became home to Holy Trinity Ukrainian Church.  Over the years the parish house was demolished, the two small stone Gothic towers were lost and the beautiful rose window is sadly damaged.

San Salvatore today - photo Alice Lum

Yet today, as it did at the turn of the century, the church building at No. 359 Broome Street continues to serve the special needs of a group of worshippers far from their homeland. The charming building is a pleasant surprise on an afternoon’s walk.

The Presbyterian Building - 156 Fifth Avenue

The Presbyterian Building shortly after completion -- postcard from author's collection

In the last years of the 19th century, the strip of Fifth Avenue from 13th Street to 23rd Street was lined with so many religious institutions – churches, publishing houses, and missions – that the area became familiarly known as Paternoster Row.

When Mary Stuart, widow of millionaire Robert L. Stuart, died in 1891 leaving a $1 million bequest, the Presbyterian Church laid plans for an office building to house its missionary work.  With unintentional appropriateness, the location chosen was the northwest corner of Fifth avenue and 20th Street, where Mary and Robert Stuart's brownstone mansion still stood.

Designed by architect James B. Baker the 12-story structure cost $1.76 million to build--nearly $51 million in today's dollars.  Baker drew inspiration from French Gothic chateaux, giving the Presbyterian Building spiky dormers capped with finials, a red tile roof and an imposing entranceway of successively smaller arches leading to an ornate lobby. 

The structure was intended to house the Presbyterian domestic and foreign missions and provide income through office rentals. Timing, however, was not the best. The country was mired in the Financial Panic of 1893, which would last until 1897, and nationwide worker strikes. The New York Times reported on September 27, 1895 that “the Presbyterian Board of Foreign Missions is the only tenant in the vast building…and its landlord pays taxes on about $475,000.”

The Presbyterian General Assembly met in June of the next year to discuss the problem, including the possibility of selling the building. A decision was made to retain the structure with a recommendation that the Church should give the missions the financial support necessary “to relieve them from the existing indebtedness which embarrasses them in their current work.”

The original elements of the lobby--mosaic floors, caen-stone walls and grand coffered ceiling--have been sympathetically restored.  -- photo by Larry W. Smith

Slowly other tenants moved in. The Daughters of the Revolution rented “a large room” as their business headquarters in January 14, 1896 around the same time the "King’s Daughters” took space for their devotional exercises.

By May of 1897 the building was 90 percent rented with rental income of $82,438; although the outstanding mortgage of $900,000 still made many General Assembly members nervous. The possible sale of the building was repeatedly discussed but never acted upon.

One new lease holder, The Woman’s National Sabbath Alliance met here on March 3, 1897 to unanimously adopt a resolution that condemned the United States Senate for holding a Sunday session on February 28. The next year, a few days before Christmas in 1898, the Woman’s Board of Home Missions of the Presbyterian Church held a heated meeting when Brigham H. Roberts of Utah was elected State Representative.

“The objections put forth against Mr. Roberts are that he is an avowed polygamist, and the idea of the Woman’s Board in this movement is to array all women’s organizations of the country in a campaign against him,” said the Board. The women, choosing not to mince words, branded Mormonism a “foul, dishonest and treasonable organization” and Representative Roberts a “defiant polygamist, confessed lawbreaker, and criminal, not a citizen…a man without a country.”

With the 20th Century Paternoster Row became more diversified. Dr. A. C. Alberston had his offices at No. 156 in 1900, piano manufacturer William Knabe and Company occupied the corner store space in 1903 and in 1906 the building was home to construction firm Charles T. Wills, Inc. which built such structures as the Judson Memorial Church, the New York Life Insurance Company building and the Carnegie mansion.

The Presbyterian Building in 1903 with Wm. Knabe & Co. in the corner store -- NYPL Collection

Today No. 156 Fifth Avenue remains an striking presence on lower Fifth Avenue, amazingly little unaltered.

A Home for Respectable, Aged and Indigent Females -- 103rd Street and Amsterdam Avenue

In the early 19th century, women who were born to affluent families and who subsequently married “well” could expect lives of comfort in fine homes, catered to by servants. They could expect such things as long as their husbands survived.

Quite often a gentleman’s entire estate would pass to his eldest son while sometimes, but not always, allowing his wife to continue living in the house and using his carriage and horses. Just as often the widow was left to the compassion of her family and creditors.  Women who months before had worn silk dresses and attended the theatre in pearls found themselves essentially penniless.

In 1814, in response to the large amount of needy widows subsequent to the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812, the Association for the Relief of Respectable Aged Indigent Females was founded. Many citizens found the entire concept unfounded. “The alms-house was thought to be the suitable provision for all those who must be supported by charity,” according to a later association report.

The group, however, persevered, endeavoring to promote the welfare of “those who have been born and bred under happier auspices, many accustomed to the refinement of affluence, and all of a class too respectable in their connections and associations in earlier life, and too worthy in themselves, to be the proper subjects of the common alms house.”

During its first year the association provided charity to 150 aged females.

After two decades of visiting the deprived women in their homes, it became evident that a facility was necessary which could provide shelter as well as medical care. “Nothing short of an asylum where they could be wholly provided for…could meet the urgency of many cases,” an annual report recorded.

An Asylum was erected in 1838 that was capable of housing 93 “pensioners.” A long list of applicants was interviewed and should a woman be deemed acceptable she was required to wait until a vacancy was made available by the death of a current inmate. Applicants often waited a year or more before admission.

Treasurer, Mr. R. C. Anderson suggested in the annual report of 1852 the need for a larger facility. “The Asylum is now filled to its utmost capacity, and many well deserving and proper persons are anxiously waiting for admission, to whom this boon cannot be afforded at present.”

A plot for the new building was recommended at 78th Street and 4th Avenue and preliminary plans by Hurry & Rogers were drawn for a building that would accommodate 200 inmates.  Financial backing for the building was not complete until 1865 and three years later plans by Richard Morris Hunt were “presented, discussed and decided upon.”

Not until 1881 was action finally taken, when land was purchased at 103rd Street and Amsterdam Avenue (then 10th Avenue) farther uptown where land was less expensive. In 1883 Hunt’s new building was complete; a massive brick and stone French Gothic pile with an cornice serrated by pointed dormers.

The Asylum in 1937 -- NYPL Collection

By 1907, the capacity of the building – no longer referred to as an asylum – was strained. Mrs. Russell Sage donated funds to enlarge the residence to the south, adding thirty rooms and a larger chapel. Architect Charles A. Rich was given the commission with instructions that the façade must be “in conformity with the present building and on the same lines.”

Completed a year later, the addition seamlessly mimicked Hunt’s original design. The two-story chapel with medieval buttresses and lancet arches featured windows by Tiffany Studios.

The Association continued in the building through the 20th Century, remodeling in 1965 to meet new sanitary requirements.  Problems arose in 1974, however, when the aging structure failed to meet fire safety codes. In June of that year plans were announced for its demolition -- of one of Hunt’s few surviving New York buildings -- to be replaced by a modern nursing home. Local residents revolted to the news, calling it a “neighborhood landmark” that could be used by community groups as a “little city hall.” A $9 million loan was sought to save the building.

In 1990, a renovation was completed, resulting in New York City’s first youth hostel with “Manhattan’s largest privately owned” garden. Managed by Hostelling International NY, the mammoth structure successfully retains its outward Victorian appearance.

Approach the building at night and it is a scene from an Edward Gorey drawing–haunting and brooding. In the bright daylight, however, it is a delight of angles and peaks – a remarkable survivor of a bygone era.