The Converted Stable at No. 33 Perry Street

photo by Alice Lum

By the middle of the 19^th century Greenwich Village had grown from a sleepy rural hamlet to a substantial community.   In 1863 Dennis Quinn was living in a modest brick home at No. 33 Perry Street when he was appointed to a committee of the Democratic Union Association to “assist the laboring and poor men in procuring exemption from the draft.”

Three years later Quinn’s house was razed and in its place a handsome stable was erected for William Pearsall.  The stable was one of a few that dotted the otherwise residential block.  Three stories high, it was clad in buff-colored iron spot brick.  A band of rough-cut stone separated the street level from the upper floors, and reappeared as joined sills below the three windows at the second and third floors, and as a string course interrupted by the arched third floor openings.  Slightly protruding bricks formed a sort of stylized quoin effect up the sides of the building and an extremely attractive overhanging copper cornice completed the design.

photo by Alice Lum

The private carriage house coexisted with the homes on the block until November 2, 1912 when it was leased by the Ward Contracting Company.  Then, in the 1920s, the church of St. John the Evangelist, around the corner on Waverly Place, began buying up the Perry Street houses.  

Greenwich Village, by now, had established itself as a haven for artists and poets.  The church envisioned an artists’ colony with a communal garden that joined the rear of the church.  As the 19^th century homes were procured, their rear fences were removed and gradually St. John’s Colony took shape.

An automobile sits directly in front of No. 33 Perry around the time that St. John the Evangelist Church purchased the property -- photo NYPL Collection

On July 14, 1925 The New York Times reported that St. John “has purchased the three-story stable at 33 Perry Street.  This property has not been transferred since 1866, having been in the Pearsall family since that time.  Upon expiration of the present lease, the building will be reconstructed.”

And when Ward Contracting moved out, reconstructed it was.

The stable was adeptly converted into a private home.  The street level was refaced in red, Flemish bond brick.  The choice of the glaringly dissimilar brick is puzzling, given that the architect carefully matched the brickwork along the sides and reused other elements to retain architectural harmony.  The rough-cut lintel over the carriage entrance became the sill of the oversized window and the carved foliate accents reappeared.  Inside, diamond-paned casements and a great baronial fireplace gave a Tudoresque feel.

Artful ironwork fills the arched overlight -- photo by Alice Lum

If the church intended No. 33 to be part of the St. John’s Colony artists’ group, it did not happen.  Maryland-born attorney Leslie Hepburn Buckler moved in with his wife, Elise Fielding Miles Buckler, and their little daughter Eleanor.    The well-respected lawyer and army veteran practiced from his office at 80 Wall Street.  Suddenly the former stable was the scene of upscale entertaining.

On February 29, 1928 Elise Buckler announced to society that she would give a reception here on March 11 for Barbara Buckler of England.  The Times noted that Barbara “was introduced to society in Baltimore this Winter and was presented at the Court of St. James last year.”

Soon the Bucklers would leave No. 33, however.  Leslie Hepburn Buckler accepted a position as Professor of Law at the University of Virginia.   The reception for Barbara Buckler would be one of the last entertainments.

By the end of summer Mrs. Guy Phelps Dodge and her daughters Mary and Rosemary were living here.  The girls were of sterling pedigrees.   Their late father, who had been president of the American Wood Fireproofing Company, descended from the prestigious Dodge family that included puritan pioneers, millionaires like William Earl Dodge, and their grandfather, the imminent Presbyterian minister Rev. D. Stuart Dodge.    Their mother, the former Mary Aborn Rhodes, was descended from John Tilly and John Howland; both of whom arrived on the Mayflower.  Another ancestor was Thomas McKean, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, president of the Continental Congress in 1781, chief justice of Pennsylvania in 1786 and Governor of Pennsylvania in 1799.

Later that year, in October, Mary Phelps Dodge announced the engagement of Mary Rhodes Dodge to British Naval Lieutenant William P. Sears of the H.M.S. Courageous.  The news sparked a new string of entertainments at No. 33 Perry Street.

In 1951 the house—still owned by St. John’s--was divided into apartments; one on the first floor, two on the second, and one on the third.   Unlike many conversions in mid-century, this one gently modernized the interiors.  The great stone fireplace and the leaded glass windows were saved.

The apartments were spacious.    In 1968 fashion executive Tom Fallon moved in, paying $225 a month.  His living room measured approximately 20 x 20 feet and afforded the space to entertain; perhaps a bit differently than Mary Phelps Dodge or Elise Fielding Buckler had done.    He once hosted a dinner party for Bill Blass “and his society pals” that spilled out into the large garden.  Fallon told The New York Times “I could get a few hundred people in that room,” referring to the living room.

In the late 1970s, around the time that Fallon’s apartment was featured in the Home section of The Times, St. John’s began divesting itself of what had been St. John’s Colony.  In 1982 architect Carl Pucci purchased No. 33.  Before long his extended family was taking over the apartments, and by 2005 when Fallon moved out, only one apartment was not occupied by the Pucci family.

The surprising house at No. 33 sits today on a smorgasbord block of Federal and Victorian houses, converted stables and late 19^th century apartment houses—a sampling menu of Village history.

The Lost 1871 9th Nat'l Bank Bldg -- Nos. 407-409 Broadway

In 1917 the Columbia Bank signs still flank the staircase, but a "To Let" notice tells of its move -- photo NYPL Collection

In February 1864, with a capital of $1 million, the Ninth National Bank was organized.  The new institution, which opened its offices at No. 363 Broadway, was immediately successful.  “From the first it had the confidence of a very important share of the business community,” reported The New York Times nearly three decades later, “and its prospects were bright form the beginning…In the halcyon days of national banks it piled up its surplus and dividends at a rapid rate.”

Among the employees was John T. Hill, the first paying teller.  Hill’s exemplary performance was noticed.  He was a young man who would go places within the bank.

By 1870 the bank’s growth and reputation required a new building.   Two lots were acquired a block north on Broadway at Nos. 407 and 409 between Walker and Lispenard Streets.   A grand stone building was erected in the highly-popular French Second Empire style.  It would resemble, in a much scaled-down version, the mammoth City Hall Post Office which was just being planned.

Accessed by a set of wide stairs, the bank rose four stories to a fish-scale tiled mansard roof.  Here ornate dormers, a stone balustrade, bulbous finials and a handsome cap provided echoes of a Parisian boulevard for moneyed New Yorkers.   Despite the paired Corinthian columns that upheld the cornices of each floor, the vermiculated bands on the flanking piers and the graceful arcades flanking the Palladio-inspired center window of the fourth floor, The Times was tepid in its assessment.  In describing the offices it said “They are commodious, but by no means pretentious as bank quarters go.”

The bank was near the dry goods district; however it drew its depositors from various businesses, earning its reputation as a “commercial” bank.    The directors sought, above all else, to maintain a conservative character, eschewing cheap marketing .   The Times would note “It has not been one of the banks which has heralded its business to the world.  It has not indulged in artistic calendars, memorandum books, and circulars.  Its constituents have been well-to-do businessmen, and the bank has maintained a character in consonance with theirs.”

By now the young teller John Hill had been promoted to cashier.

Offices in the building were leased to the National Revenue Reform Association, one of several reform groups that sought to overthrow the corrupt Tammany Hall.  The New York Tribune reported on September 6, 1871 that “two or three Reform Associations, led by prominent and active citizens of unquestioned character and professional standing, also gave the ‘Ring’ much uneasiness, and these having now combined are prepared to give it a great deal more.”  The National Revenue Reform Association offered the use of its rooms as a headquarters for the anti-Tammany movement, although the offer was politely declined.

In 1874 Thomas A. Vyse resigned from the presidency of the Ninth National Bank, focusing his energies on the firm of Vyse & Co.  (It was around this time that the former teller, John Hill, received yet another promotion.)   Prior to his resignation, Vyse borrowed $475,000 and gave as security a mortgage on property he owned.  He requested that the transaction not be recorded.

The seemingly shady deal came to light when, early in 1875, Vyse & Co. failed.   Creditors scrambled to claim their portion of the assets but Ninth National, which had never documented the loan, had a problem.  “Under these circumstances the bank, it was stated, would be a loser to the full amount of the loan, and in consequence be seriously embarrassed,” reported The Times.

Indeed the bank was embarrassed.  But quick damage control by one of the Directors, Barnett L. Solomon, convinced depositors that the bank was solvent.  Solomon insisted that he “did not believe the bank would lose a single dollar on any of its transactions with Mr. Vyse.”

While the bank was patching its bruised public image, it continued leasing offices on the upper floors.   The same year C. S. Morton, an agent for the freight railroad The Canada Southern Co-Operative had his headquarters here.  By the time that the Mercantile Benefit Association moved in, one-time teller John Hill was President of the bank.

Hill became the bank’s third president in 1877.  Things went well until his wife’s wealthy spinster aunt, Eliza Dayton, entrusted her finances to Hill’s brother, Charles.   Unfortunately, Charles was not the best financial advisor and on a single occasion lost $68,000 of Dayton’s money.   In 1884 Eliza Dayton’s estate had suffered loses so great that Charles Hill committed suicide.  John Hill promised to restore the fortune of his wife’s aunt.

Within time he did just that.   The family honor restored, he continued the life of a successful banker.   He loved exotic flowers and built a fine conservatory on his property.  He owned at least a pair of valuable horses and was fond of riding.  The Times remarked “He led a quiet life, was not socially inclined, and his wife and daughters are domestic in their taste.”

The façade of the upstanding and honest bank president would crumble upon his death at the age of 55 in 1891.  To restore Eliza Dayton’s extensive financial loses and to continue his comfortable lifestyle John H. Hill had constantly embezzled from the Ninth National Bank from 1884 until his death.

When a borrower would repay his loan and receive his collateral, Hill would pocket the money and the bank’s books would show the loan still outstanding.  In place of the collateral he would put an envelope with the records of the loan.  When a bank examiner would visit, he would transfer securities into the loan envelopes until the investigation was completed.

Hill contracted consumption in 1889 which worsened a year later to the point that he was mostly bedridden.  Still, he “managed to get down to the bank at all critical junctures in his affairs and to accomplish the necessary juggling of the securities which kept his crime a secret until after his death,” reported The Times.   “It was not,” said the newspaper, “until after his death that the big defalcation was discovered.”

The president who had risen from teller had robbed his own bank of $400,000—nearly $10 million today.

Amazingly the bank recovered.  On August 4, 1891, five months after Hill’s death, the bank announced itself “to be in a very prosperous condition now, and to have pretty fully recovered from the effects of the Hill scare.”

The bank took yet another hit, albeit much smaller, a year later when Johann C. K. Davidsen forged checks totaling $2,700.  Davidsen was a bookkeeper at A. James & Co., commission merchants “in the South American trade,” earning $10 a week.   While acquaintances noted the disparity of the clerk’s income and style of living, he brushed it off saying he had “private means.”

"Private means” meant he was simply signing and cashing checks on his employer’s account at Ninth National Bank.  When the crime was discovered, Adolph James, one of his employers, remarked that he “did not know of this ornamental side of Davidsen’s career.”

The bank, which was responsible for the stolen amount, offered a $500 reward for the arrest of the 30-year old forger.

In November 1901 the bank merged with the National Citizens’ Bank.  That bank had been founded in 1858 “during the California ‘Gold Fever,’” according to King’s Views of New York City.   The two competing banks were now one and Ninth National gave up its familiar name.   The arrangement would not last long, however.

Businessmen crowd the sidewalk in front of the National Citizens Bank in 1903.  King's Views of New York City 1903 (copyright expired)

Less than three years later, in March 1904 the National Citizens and the Central National Bank consolidated.   Once again the bank’s name was changed; but this time the merger would mean leaving the building at Nos. 407-409 Broadway.

By August the Netherland State Railway of Holland had leased the front portion of the building vacated by the bank.   The firm was still in the building when an advertisement in The Sun announced the upcoming auction of the property on April 19, 1906.   It was purchased by Olin G. Walbridge.

Walbridge had little time to develop his new real estate.  He died within the year leaving an estate of $326,236 including the old bank building on Broadway.  His will divided the estate equally among his various heirs, resulting in a two-year court battle among family members that finally resulted in son Francis Walbridge acquiring the building.

Walbridge was successful in returning the structure to its original banking function with Columbia Bank taking over the business floors.   The same year that Francis Walbridge died in 1917, however, the bank opened a new branch at No. 415 Broadway and discontinued business at Nos. 407-409.  Five days after the announcement that the bank was leaving, the building was sold again at auction to Max Marx on May 6, 1917.

The old Ninth National Bank building would never again be used as a financial institution.  Instead it became home to firms marketing the up-and-coming typewriter.    The Irving Typewriter Company established its offices here, as did the Morse Typewriter Exchange Co.   

Among the typewriter concerns here in 1919 was Morse Typewriter Exchange -- Typewriter Topics, October 1919 (copyright expired)

In July 1924 Marx sold the building to Frank Hillman for about $160,000.  The jazz age had roared into New York and the Great Depression was still years away.   Popular taste turned to sleek, clean lines and the Victorian dowager at No. 407-409 Broadway was decidedly out of style.

Although the building was no longer fashionable for a bank, the location certainly was.  On May 8, 1927 The Manufacturers Safe Deposit Company announced it would open a branch on the site.  Within five months the old Ninth National Bank was gone and in its place was a new modern two-story building designed by A. F. Gilbert.

A. F. Gilbert's 1927 bank still survives on the site. -- photo by Alice Lum

The 1892 Graham House -- 22 East 89th Street

The eye-catching entrance welcomed wealthy residents in 1892 -- photo by Alice Lum

When Scottish-born Charles Graham arrived in New York in 1851 he did what he knew best:  stair building.  Fourteen years later he organized the firm of Charles Graham & Co., which not only continued building stairs, but entire buildings.  Later the Evening World would say that “he was identified with the building of the metropolis, and “was largely instrumental in the building up of Upper Madison Avenue.”

Graham was a staunch opponent of slavery and during the Civil War he was in charge of “a New York station of the ‘underground railway,’” according to The Sun.  He was a close friend of Horace Greeley and abolitionist Wendell Phillips and wrote several anti-slavery articles for The Tribune.

Graham had four sons and his heart was broken when son Samuel disappeared in 1869.   Two of the other boys learned the building and real estate trade with Thomas becoming an accomplished architect as well.   In the 1880s Graham took sons John and Thomas into the firm with him, renaming it C. Graham & Sons.

From their office at 305 East 43^rd Street the Grahams feverishly designed and built homes in the developing Upper East Side, ranging in price from $20,000 to $100,000.   The successful builders even operated their own sash and blind factory.  Then in September 1890 Thomas struck out on his own.

Starting out with $15,000 in cash, Thomas Graham aggressively built homes; but he had a grander idea as well.  By now the concept of exclusive residential hotels had taken hold in New York.  Wealthy residents who would rather not be inconvenienced by the upkeep of a private home and maintaining a staff of servants could permanently enjoy independence and luxury of a hotel.

Thomas Graham noticed that there were no residence hotels on the east side of Central Park.

He purchased land on the corner of Madison Avenue and 89^th Street for $38,500 and set about designing the Graham Hotel and Apartment House.  The structure was projected to cost $165,000.  It was a lot of money considering his $15,000 start-up fund.  In addition, he was building several homes in the neighborhood.

By September 6, 1891 he was in trouble.  The Sun noted that “his affairs have been placed in the hands of his creditors.”

Thomas Graham’s experiment in building on his own came to an end.  He rejoined the firm of C. Graham & Sons and the hotel project went forward.  Completed a year later, the large ironspot brick-clad hotel sat on a limestone Romanesque Revival base.  Rough-cut stone piers supported planar expanses accented by projecting carved stone eyebrows over the arched openings.  Exuberant stone carvings made appearances along the façade, which happily hosted Moorish, Renaissance and Romanesque styles.  But Thomas Graham lavished his architectural enthusiasm on the entranceway.



Graham freely borrowed from a variety of architectural periods in designing the window openings -- photo by Alice Lum

Over a century later The AIA Guide to New York City would praise “The serendipitous entry portal combines Romanesque columns with urban fantasies: a portal worthy of entering a Wonderland.”

The two-story stone arch swelled with motion as wave-like buttresses crested at its sides.  Tightly-twisted rope-carved columns culminated in superbly-crafted foliate capitals.  It was architectural energy in carved stone.

Swirling columns abut exquisite carvings of berried branches tied with ribbon and a latticework medallion within a shield -- photo by Alice Lum

The Graham House filled with moneyed residents whose names regularly appeared in the social columns.  In 1893 Mrs. Hamilton M. Robinson hosted “at home receptions” and on January 6 and 13 of that same year another socialite named Robinson, the newly-married Mrs. N. Macrae-Robinson, gave wedding receptions in her apartments, assisted by her bridesmaids.  

But 1893 was not all tea parties and receptions at the Graham House.

In May, a month after Charles Graham’s wife died and years after his son Samuel had disappeared, the builder received a photograph of a little girl.  On it was written “Your granddaughter, Alice Graham.”  There was no postmark to tell from where it had been mailed.  The 82-year old man, in feeble health, placed advertisements in all the major newspapers throughout the country searching for information.  Before long Samuel, “broken, ill, dying,” according to The Evening World, returned to his father’s home with his daughter, Alice.   Only days after his return, Samuel died.

“It broke the old man’s heart,” reported The Evening World, “and two weeks later he died also, the newly found granddaughter soothing him and smoothing his pathway to the grave.”

A stonecarver's sense of humor is reflected in the grimacing face trapped within the sinuous foliate carvings -- photo by Alice Lum

Misfortune continued at No. 22 East 89th Street when wealthy Englishman Louis A. Morganthal and his wife, Minnie, “rented a suit of rooms in the swell Graham House” in November that year, as reported in The Evening World.  The 29-year old Morganthal was a Wall Street speculator and wine merchant.  His wife was the daughter of Louis Rientzen, a London diamond merchant who had made a fortune from the African Kimberley diamond mines.   The newspaper felt that “The two seemed to live happily together.”

On December 18 Mrs. Morganthal celebrated her 22^nd birthday by attending the theater.  Her plans did not include her husband, however, and instead another Englishman, Mr. Noeltz, arrived to escort her.

Louis Morganthal, a bit tipsy, arrived at the Graham House around 9:30 and invited Thomas Graham’s son to his apartment along with several others for a drink.  He “was in a talkative mood,” and “said his wife was the best woman in the world.”  At 11:00 he retired.

Minnie Morganthal returned home around 1:00 am and went upstairs in the elevator.  Seconds later “a piercing scream rang through the halls of the hotel,” according to The Evening World.   Louis Moganthal sat in a chair just inside the room with a 22-calibre bullet hole in his skull.

It would not be the last suicide of a wealthy resident here.

Less than five months later Max Meyer arrived at the Graham House with his male nurse and his married daughter from Selma, Alabama.   He came to New York to seek help from a specialist in nervous disorders and had suffered from insomnia for several years.   Meyer’s daughter telegramed her mother not to bother coming north, since her father was rapidly improving.  The truth was, though, that his health “extremely delicate,” according to The New York Times. 

His two sons, one of whom lived in the city at No. 110 East 92^nd Street, decided to place their father into an asylum.  When Max Meyer discovered the plans, he decided to take matters into his own hands.  “Before the nurse could detain him he sprang for the window and jumped out,” said The Times.

“Shouts came from the Graham early yesterday morning,” the newspaper reported on May 7, “and a policeman hurried across the street just in time to see the body of a man shoot from a window and fall to the sidewalk in Eighty-ninth Street.”  Max Meyer struck the bronze railing that surrounded the hotel and died.

Thomas Graham continued his father’s legacy of concern for the poor and downtrodden.  That year The Times noted that “There is no slackening in the efforts both of individuals and of organizations to furnish aid for the poor.”  The newspaper reported “A meeting of the charitably-disposed residents of the east side” had been called at the Graham House “to extend the work of a diet kitchen in a neighborhood near the river front, where much suffering and want exists.  Mr. Graham has offered the use of his dining hall for this meeting.”

In 1895 Thomas Graham sold the Graham House; although he continued to live and run his architectural and building business from here through the turn of the century.

The widow of L. K. Goldsmith, Clara Goldsmith, was living here in 1906 when she received surprising news.  Clara’s nephew, Lazarus K. Goldsmith, had left home 42 years earlier and traveled the world.  The family had lost track of him until she stumbled upon him in Paris in 1904.  Clara and Lazarus renewed a friendship and then she returned home to the Graham House.

On April 17, 1906 Clara received word that her nephew had died.  He left his entire estate of about $1.5 million including $750,000 in United States Steel Corporation and American Tobacco Company stocks and bonds and 400 acres of land in Oregon to Clara.  His will said that she “assisted me when I was in need and by reason of our long friendship.”

Throughout the first half of the 20^th century wealthy New Yorkers continued to live in the spacious apartments.  In 1920 Mr. and Mrs. H. Ogden Nelson were here when their two daughters married.    Beatrice Berrien Nelson married John Butler Rosenquest of Cleveland; and her sister became Mrs. Charles Robert Potter.  Two years later Mrs. Florence A. James lived here when she was swindled out of $1,450 and a diamond ring by Alfred E. Lindsay and Dr. Knut Karl Enlind.  The pair convinced Florence that she would make “a killing” on inside information they had on certain stocks.  When cornered in court, Lindsay testified that “Enlind was in the habit of steering wealthy women to him in order that he might swindle them by posing as a sure-tip financier,” said the New York Tribune on November 16.

Graham used pressed metal as deftly as he did stone and brick in designing the ornamental details -- photo by Alice Lum

In 1951 St. David's School, a private Roman Catholic boy’s school, was founded with one teacher and four students.  Its purpose was “to provide a sound substantial education for the growing boy, equal to the best to be derived from institutions of a similar level.”   By 1963 the school had grown to the point that it purchased the building next door to the Graham House, at 16 East 89^th Street.  Here well-heeled young men like John F. Kennedy, Jr. wore ties and jackets and prepared themselves for higher education.

In 1972 St. David’s School purchased the Graham House and a year later it converted part of the ground floor as “a school for 20 pupils,” as described in Building Department documents.   By 2003 the growing school had edged itself upward in the Graham, sharing space on five floors with still-surviving apartments.   By 2011 there were 400 students whose parents spent $36,300 on tuition annually.  The last of the apartments had to go.

Although the last of the residents did not necessarily go quietly, the building was finally completely converted to classrooms.  Thomas Graham’s Ladies' Parlor, the Men's Lounge, and the elegant communal dining room, where millionaires and their wives once supped, were all gone.

But outside, the robust façade with its eccentric and wonderful entryway, remain exactly as they were.

The 1888 Armeny Building -- No. 90 Nassau Street

photo by Alice Lum

Frank Raub was proficient at two things in 1888—real estate development and the saloon business.  For several years he managed the successful saloon known as “Hillen’s” near the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge and had dabbled in real estate.   With the population of Manhattan exploding and the financial potential of the downtown area ripe, he combined his two talents into one project.

Purchasing the small buildings at the corner of Fulton and Nassau Streets, he hired architects De Lemos & Cordes to design an office building with restaurant space on the first floor.   Theodore W. E. De Lemos and August W. Cordes had been in partnership only four years and their robust design would foreshadows the grand office buildings and department stores to come; among them the New York County National Bank and the department stores of Siegel-Cooper, Adams and Macy’s on Herald Square.

Early in 1889 the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide remarked on the new structures appearing along Nassau Street.  “Another Nassau street building, on the southeast corner of Fulton street, is being put up for Frank Raub, who will have a café and restaurant on the first floor and rent out the offices above.  It is up to the roof and will be completed, so the architects, De Lemos & Cordes, say, about November.”

Using buff-colored brick with limestone and terra cotta trim, the architects created a refined 6-story structure in five sections, ending with a complex cornice.  Cast iron enframements enabled spacious window openings that allowed exceptional sunlight into the office spaces.

No. 90 Nassau Street shortly after completion -- American Architect & Building News, October 6, 1889 (copyright expired)

The neighborhood was the center of the jewelry trade at the time and Raub’s completed building filled with related businesses.   Among the first was Armeny & Marion, makers of high-end gold pens. 

Gyulo Armeny had arrived alone in New York from Austria-Hungary at the age of 19.  After learning the jewelry trade in the Bronx, he started his own business at No. 75 Nassau Street.    When he met pen-maker William Clayborn Marion his life would change.

Gyulo Armeny -- The Jewelers' Circular April 14, 1920 (copyright expired)

Unlike the immigrant Armeny, Marion was born to a prestigious family with French roots who settled in Kentucky in the 18^th century.   In 1900 biographer Cornelius Burnham Harvey would say of him “Breathing in his father’s house a wholesome mechanical atmosphere, and having received at the district schools a good rudimentary education, he left home at the age of fourteen and apprenticed himself to Andrew J. Berrian, a maker of gold pens at 75 Nassau Street, New York.”  In 1884 the two men, now both masters at their craft, formed Armeny & Marion.

Marion's biographer, in 1900, called him "without doubt or question the oldest living working gold pen maker in the world --"Genealogical History of Hudson and Bergen Counties, New Jersey" (copyright expired) 

The Jewelers’ Circular noted that “This business grew to such proportions that in 1890 it was moved to 90 Nassau Street.” 

Advertisement in The American Stationery (copyright expired)

In the building with Armeny & Marion was the prosperous watch dealer Charles D. P. Gibson.   The interesting Gibson had served in the Civil War and for about 25 years was connected with the United States Secret Service.   But Gibson’s viewpoints on religion were extreme.

The New York Times noted on June 28, 1894 that “On ordinary questions he seems to think pretty much as other people, but in regard to his Roman Catholic fellow-citizens he entertains sentiments that would have seemed impossible even in the dark ages.”

Mercury, the Roman patron of commerce, peers out from above the fourth floor -- photo by Alice Lum

Gibson was an officer in the American Protective Association, a society “organized to hunt down Catholics.”  In words that presaged those of a future German dictator, he announced “There is no room in this country for Roman Catholics and the American Protective Association will soon demonstrate this.  They will have to go elsewhere.  They can’t exist much longer here, for they will starve.”

When a reporter for The Times asked the jeweler “What would you do with these millions of people whom you condemn simply on religious grounds,” he answered “I wouldn’t do anything with the ___.  I’d simply drive them out and make it impossible for them to live here, where they are a curse to good people who love the American institutions.”

Happily the rest of the tenants in the building drew less negative press.  Jacob Horowitz quietly dealt in diamonds and Rudolph F. Albrecht sold rare stamps.

In 1893, with the building fully-leased, Raub commissioned architect A. L. C. Marsh to enlarge it.  The handsome cornice was removed and two stories were added.  Although Marsh attempted to meld the architecture with banded piers and terra cotta trim, the proportions were somewhat skewed.

The 1893 upward addition upset the attractive proportions -- photo by Alice Lum

Meanwhile the business of Armeny & Marion continued to flourish.  In 1893 Gyulo Armeny purchased the building from Raub, renaming it the Armeny Building.  Frank Raub continued running Raub’s Saloon at street level.

In 1900 the National Loan Association took space in the building, about the same time that Raub hired a new cashier, the 21-year old Martin J. Tighe.   Tighe, whom The New York Times described as “an inveterate cigarette smoker,” was abusive to his young wife.  In the Fall of 1900 he threatened to kill his 17-year old wife and her father, but when police disarmed him he “promised then to do better and was not arrested,” said the newspaper.

In April 1901 the couple had a baby boy and when the abuse continued, the young mother left Tighe to move back into her father’s home.   Tighe stalked the building and on June 11, finding the door unlocked, he went up to the apartment.  When his wife opened the door he grabbed her by the hair, dragged her into the hall and beat her with his fist.   The enraged man bit his wife’s wrist until blood ran.

Although he was arrested, his father signed his bond and he was released.  It was a move that would end the 18-year old mother’s life.

The girl returned to her father’s apartment and so too did her husband, who loitered around throughout the afternoon.  Around 9:00 that evening with the protection of her aunt, Margaret Schaffney, Mrs. Tighe went back to the former apartment she had shared with her husband.  She hoped to get clothes for the baby.  After only a few minutes of their being in the apartment, Tighe burst in and threw Schaffrey out, locking the door.

When the aunt failed to find a policeman, she rushed back to the apartment and broke the door down with her shoulder.  Tighe flew past her and into the street.   The young wife was on the kitchen floor slashed in several places by a razor.

As the 18-year old mother slowly died, Tighe slit his own throat then, bleeding, sat smoking cigarettes and playing the piano in his father’s saloon awaiting police.  Tighe’s father blamed the tragedy on the girl’s family interfering “with the household affairs of the young couple.”

photo by Alice Lum

Within the next few years jewelry firms were slowly replaced by law offices.  In 1902 Ralph Gillett opened his practice here and two years later the law firm of J. & W. Shrady was here.   Scandal visited the building in 1913 when former policeman Robert E. Ullner had his law offices in the building.  That year an indictment was filed again him and his wife, Annie Grey, who, according to The New York Times “amassed a fortune as a keeper of disorderly resorts.”  It was a polite term for brothels.

By 1917 Raub’s Saloon was gone and in its place was the liquor store owned by Joseph Varon.   Varon would remain here for at least two decades.

On March 9, 1920 Gyulo Armeny was at his home in West Bronx, New York, suffering from gangrene poisoning as workers prepared an improvement to the building on Nassau Street.  At 5:00 in the afternoon—the peak of rush hour—construction workers maneuvered an 800-pound cast iron flagpole base into position high over the sidewalk.  Hundreds of businessmen and secretaries rushed along the sidewalk below.

Suddenly the rigging broke.   The giant iron base held for a second by a portion of the rigging, long enough for workers to shout a warning.  The crowd below scattered in all directions not knowing exactly what the danger was.   The Times reported that “In a second or two the 800-pound weight snapped the remaining ropes and shot downward…The cast-iron base broke, and the street was filled with huge fragments of iron and broken lumber.”  Only three persons were injured.

A month after the accident, Armeny succumbed to his 11-week illness.  The sons of William Marion continued the pen manufacturing firm.

Within a year The United Happiness Candy Store was here.  The store had several branches, along with a club.  “The purpose of the United Happiness Candy Club is to introduce our various kinds of Candy, and have the story of their goodness spread by all the members. Everybody who buys automatically becomes a member," promised an advertisement.

Not all the jewelry firms left No. 90 Nassau Street and they proved to be a temptation for thieves.  Charles Kresney ran his jewelry manufacturing shop here in 1924.   On April 28 the cleaning woman walked in on a robbery by four gunmen and was immediately taken captive.   The four bandits made off with $125,000 worth of jewelry.  Kresney and the scrubwoman were found bound and gagged later.

A year later, two days before Christmas in 1925 the jewelry manufacturer Folmer Pripp was robbed by stepbrothers Jacob and Leon Kraemer, along with gunman Milton (Shuffles) Goldberg.

The boys were members of the notorious Whittemore gang, led by Richard Reese Whittemore.  Goldberg was, according to newspapers, "the closest lieutenant" of Whittemore.  A year later the robbers were sentenced; Goldberg getting 20 to 40 years in Sing Sing prison.  His attorneys pled for a reduced sentence because he had an advanced case of tuberculosis.

Judge Koenig, however, was unmoved.  The New York Times reported that he "rebuffs plea of mercy based on his weakened physique."

Dripping garlands, radiant discs and lions' heads are among the lavish ornaments -- photo by Alice Lum

In 1955 jeweler Charles Krensky operated his business in the building.  That year three hold-up men barged into the shop.  Before they fled Krensky lay dead.

By 1975 the street level housed a restaurant and bar, but the upper floors had been vacant for over a decade.  Then in 1999 the building was renovated, creating residential space on the floors above the restaurant.

Other than the zig-zagging fire escape, No. 90 Nassau Street looks much as it did after the 1893 alterations when the vibrant neighborhood was filled with jewelry merchants.

photo by Alice Lum

The 1894 Fire Patrol #3 -- 240 West 30th Street

photo by Alice Lum

In 1839 the New York Board of Fire Underwriters was established as an outgrowth of the Mutual Assistance and Bag Corporation which had been formed 36 years earlier.  The insurance companies sought to prevent or at least reduce the loss of property caused by fires.   Claims by merchants for lost inventory were often due to water damage caused by the fire department as much as by the fire itself.

When the Board of Fire Underwriters added actual fire fighting to its methods of preventing losses to insured property, the Fire Patrol was established.   The Fire Patrol was a private organization, distinct from the Fire Department.   The Patrol would rush to a fire working side-by-side with fire fighters, laying tarps to protect goods from water , removing goods when possible, and all the while fighting the flames.

The Fire Patrolmen became recognizable by their bright red helmets.   In 1858, with still just two Fire Patrol Companies in New York, an order dictated “Resolved—That the men belonging to the Fire Patrol be required immediately at their own cost, to have their fire caps painted a bright red color, and have front pieces furnished with the words, ‘Insurance Patrol No. 1’ for the lower district, and ‘Insurance Patrol No. 2’ for the upper district, together with the initials of the wearer of the cap legibly painted thereon to be white, with black letters as above.”

The success of the Fire Patrol resulted in a third company being formed.  In 1894 a new fire patrol house at No. 240 West 30^th Street in the crime-ridden Tenderloin district began rising.   When the Board of Underwriters hired the architectural firm of D’Oench & Simon to design the building, the choice was obvious.  Albert F. D’Oench served as an instructor in the first fire fighter training school when it opened in 1892, and was the Superintendent of Buildings. 

At the time a renewed interest in the Dutch heritage of New York resulted in the appearance of Flemish Revival buildings throughout the city, especially on the Upper West Side.    D’Oench & Simon turned to this style for the new Patrol Company No. 3.  Completed in September 1895 it rose four stories to an elaborate stepped gable and peaked roof covered in Spanish tile.    The ground floor was clad in Indiana limestone and the upper floors were a cream-colored brick.  Terra cotta ornamentation included window pediments that changed with each successive floor.

The original stepped gable and Spanish-tiled roof.  - The New York Times September 11, 1895 (copyright expired)

The new patrol house was opened with a large ceremony on the evening of September 10, 1895.  The Sun reported that “Hundreds of guests of the Fire Patrol Committee of the New York Board of Fire Underwriters viewed the building.”    It was a model of up-to-the-minute technology and conveniences.

There were accommodations for twenty-six men on the second floor, “each of whom has a separate brass bedstead and a clothes closet,” reported The New York Times.  Here too was the private office of the captain.    Five sliding poles pierced the floor to enable the patrolmen to rapidly respond to the alarm.  One especially clever innovation was the short pole for the driver, located near his bed.  When the driver slid down this brass pole, it dropped him conveniently into the seat of the waiting wagon.

The third floor included a billiard room and a sitting room for the patrolmen, as well as the superintendent’s office.  “Throughout the building great care has been taken to provide for the comfort and convenience of the men,” said The Times.  The top floor was designated for workshops and the supply room.  Racks for drying the tarps lined the ceiling.  

Ornate medallions are emblazoned with F and P for Fire Patrol -- photo by Alice Lum

Five horses and two patrol wagons—with improved apparatus for quickly reaching fires, said The New York Times--were housed on the first floor.  Behind the station was a two-story brick building with feed rooms and a hayloft.  “Here are two large box-stalls with a thick flooring of Irish peat, where the horses in turn are allowed a chance to recover from hard runs,” said The Times. 

The Weekly Underwriter praised the design.  “It is a model of completeness for the purposes for which it was constructed and is equipped with every known device and improvement for comfort of the men and the uses of the business.”   Like the Times reporter, the writer was impressed with the conveniences.  “The floors of the office, toilet and bath rooms are made of marble and mosaic, the stalls have asphalted floors, each stall being separately drained; the entire building is piped for gas and electric light…the building is heated by steam.”   Even more impressive was the electric elevator in the rear of the building “for passengers or freight.”

Before being thoughtlessly covered in white paint, the terra cotta and ornamental cast iron masonry supports would have been an attractive contrast to the light-colored brick -- photo by Alice Lum

The 26 men of Fire Patrol No. 3 had an immense territory to cover—from river to river and from 14^th Street to 57^th Street.  But on the morning of June 18, 1901 the men did not have to travel far.   The tenement building at No. 441 West 31^st Street was on fire.   Rather than evacuating the burning building immediately, one tenant, Mrs. O’Hagan, took the time to gather up her money and some valuables and then became trapped.   The New York Tribune reported that “She is a fat woman and was unable to get down the fire escape.  She stood at the window threatening to jump, two of her children, a boy and a girl, beside her.”

Hook and Ladder Company No. 24 was fighting the blaze and Fire Patrol Company 3 was working alongside.   When Fire Patrolman Cunningham and Fire Lieutenant Kehoe found her, Mrs. O’Hagan was hanging out of the window.  Using a short ladder they reached the fire escape and passed the two children down.   But as their portly mother started down, there was a problem.  The ladder slipped loose from its fastenings.

Fire Patrolman Cunningham caught the portly woman by her wrist and held her dangling three stories above the sidewalk until the lieutenant could get the ladder secured.  “Then she was brought down safely,” said the Tribune, “Her wrist was sprained.”

Along with the 26 fire patrolmen, the captain and the superintendant, Willie was in residence at No. 240 West 30^th Street.  Willie was a goat.  And on February 19, 1903 Willie noticed that the stable door was ajar and he decided to explore the city.   As the goat wandered to 6^th Avenue a group of boys followed him, some throwing snowballs.   Willie, apparently not enjoying the sport, charged the group, knocking one boy down.  He moved on to fashionable 5^th Avenue.

“The real excitement began there,” reported The New York Tribune.  “The goat was not used to such bewilderment of vehicles, and he had difficulty in dodging them.  The horses were not used to seeing goats running loose in New York’s fashionable thoroughfare, and they pranced and danced, none caring to come in contact with Willie.”

Carriages carrying wealthy residents were rocked and several pedestrians were knocked down by the rampaging goat.  “Soon the avenue was in a tumult,” said the newspaper.  A crowd of hansom cab drivers and boys with sticks and other weapons attempted to corral the goat.   Willie ran to the private entrance to the exclusive Waldorf-Astoria Hotel and the mayhem continued when porters tried to remove him and one was knocked down.

Willie’s adventure came to an end when he simply returned to the stable.   “No one had been seriously injured,” comforted The Tribune.

Prospective fire patrolmen were carefully screened.  Because they were constantly in contact with the valuable goods they were trusted to protect, a dishonest patrolmen was definitely not wanted.  However in 1909 the Board of Fire Underwriters took a chance on Joseph Carmichael.   The man had been in the Catholic Protectory and the House of Refuge “as an incorrigible,” said The Sun, and on June 3 he had been convicted of stealing $60 worth of jewelry and $30.50 in cash from Charles W. Gould.  But his sentence had been suspended and he was accepted as a fire patrolman.

Unfortunately, becoming a fire patrolman did not chance his habits.   Three days before Christmas that year Carmichael stayed back while the company rushed to a fire.   When the men returned, David H. Drought noticed his gold watch and chain was missing from his locker.   Carmichael confessed and was arrested, promising to return the watch.

The arresting detective waited while Carmichael received the 14-pound turkey that the Board of Underwriters gave to every fire patrolman for Christmas.  They then proceeded to his mother’s house on Lexington Avenue.  Mrs. Carmichael received a Christmas turkey, Fire Patrolman Drought received his watch, and Carmichael received a jail sentence.

Throughout the years Fire Patrol No. 3 continued to go beyond the mere protection of insured goods from water and fire.  On September 22, 1915 a massive explosion in the nearby 7^th Avenue subway resulted in the collapse of the street for blocks.   Subway passengers were trapped beneath the rubble and dozens of motorists and pedestrians fell into the chasm including a passenger-filled trolley car.

“Lieut. John Sanders, Sergeant John Butler and the six men of Fire Patrol No. 3 did heroic work in getting out injured and frightened persons,” reported The Sun.  “When they arrived they had no long ladders, so used ordinary scaling ladders and ropes.  They gave first attention to the trolley car, from which there were rising cries for help.”

The Brickbuilder, December 12, 1904 (copyright expired)

In 1916 Irving Crump supplied an eye witness account of the dangers the Fire Patrol encountered.  “White coated men wearing red fire helmets were working about in the glare of the rays from the searchlight engine.  I learned later that they were the men of the Fire Patrol, and that they were busy saving property in the warehouse.

“When I arrived, several of them were rolling huge blue barrels, that looked like oil containers, through one of the doorways of the building.  They seemed to be working madly, and firemen were helping them.  In and out of the building they hurried, plunging through smoke so dense that I wondered they could go through it and remain alive.  Now and then one staggered back, coughing and choking, only to master himself with an effort and plunge back into the smoke again.”

When Crump asked what the patrolmen were doing, he was told that there were barrels of gasoline and motion picture film in the building which presented a potential disaster.   But even as the explanation was being given, the worst of the patrol’s fears became reality—the remaining gasoline barrels exploded.

“Out through the doorways staggered the men of the Fire Patrol and the firemen who had been operating lines inside the building,” said Crump.  “Some of them seemed literally blown into the street by the force of the explosion.”

The same year Sergeant William S. Cashman was on the scene of a fire at No. 347 West 38^th Street.  Fireman Harry J. Murphy of Engine Company No. 26 fell through the floor, landing unconscious in the cellar of the burning building.  Cashman rushed in, pulling the fireman to the safety of the street, saving his life.  A year later he was awarded the Fire Underwriters’ life saving medal.  The gold medal “goes only to those who have performed feats of signal bravery,” said The Sun.

The unit was later renamed Fire Patrol #1 and at some point during the 20^th century the handsome Flemish Revival gable and peaked roof were removed, to be replaced by a stepped parapet and flat roof.   The building was decommissioned in 2006.

photo by Alice Lum

Today the first two floors, where fire patrolmen slid down brass poles and horse-drawn wagons awaited the alarm, are home to a nightclub.   And although someone thought it would be a good idea to cover the brick, terra cotta and limestone with white paint, the building retains its handsome architectural integrity—even with the loss of the wonderful gable.