Читать книгу Old Buildings of New York, With Some Notes Regarding Their Origin and Occupants - Anonymous - Страница 3

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Recently a writer in a periodical stated that “No one was ever born in New York.” It can be safely said that this is an exaggeration. Nevertheless it showed the confidence of the writer that the statement was not likely to startle his readers very greatly.

Probably not one in a hundred of the men in the street know or care anything about the town of fifty or sixty years ago. Still the number of those who were familiar with it then is large, however small in comparison with the whole number. In fact, the number of those whose predecessors were living here when there were not more than a thousand people in the whole place is much greater than is generally supposed.

It was for people belonging to the two latter classes that these pictures were taken. They may even interest some who have known the town for only a generation.

When a man has traversed the streets of a city for fifty years, certain buildings become familiar landmarks. He first saw them perhaps on trudging to school with his books, and has seen them nearly every day since. He experiences a slight shock whenever such buildings are destroyed. There appears something wrong in the general aspect of the town. Of late years these shocks have followed one another so continuously that he may well wonder whether he is living in the same place.

It occurred to the writer that it would do no harm to preserve the pictures of some of the landmarks still standing, especially as they are getting fewer in number all the time, and may shortly disappear altogether.

He regrets that he is unable to show a photographic presentment of many buildings that have disappeared in the last fifty years, or even during the life of the present generation. Some buildings that had a certain historical interest have been razed in the last twenty-five years, as, e.g., the Kennedy house,1 No. 1 Broadway, taken down to make way for the Washington Building, overlooking the Battery Park, or the old Walton house2 in Pearl Street near Franklin Square, removed in 1881, or the Tombs prison, removed in 1899.

Among buildings that will be recalled to memory by the older citizens it would have been a satisfaction to have been able to show pictures of the Brick (Presbyterian) Church, that stood, with its yard, on Park Row, taking in the block bounded by Spruce, Nassau, and Beekman streets; or Burton’s Theater in Chambers Street; the Irving House, later Delmonico’s, on the corner of Broadway and the same street; of the old New York Hospital on Broadway near Thomas Street, standing far back with its beautiful lawn and grand old trees; of the St. Nicholas Hotel near Spring Street; of the old Coster mansion (later a Chinese museum), built of granite in the style of the Astor House, near Prince Street; and Tiffany’s place across the way, with the same Atlas upholding the clock over the door; of the Metropolitan Hotel on the next block with Niblo’s Garden; of Bleecker Street with Depau Row;3 of Bond Street with the large Ward (later Sampson) residence on the corner; the Russell residence on the corner of Great Jones Street; the famous old New York Hotel; the Lorillard mansion at Tenth Street; the large brownstone residence of Judge James Roosevelt, near Thirteenth Street, famous for the hospitality of its owners, and the red brick residence of Cornelius V.S. Roosevelt, grandfather of the President, on the corner of Union Square, having the entrance on Broadway.

The older resident can recall Union Square when the buildings were nearly all private residences, conspicuous among which were the Parish house on the north side and the Penniman (later the Maison Dorée) on the south. He can recall the stately appearance of Fourteenth Street westward of Union Square: the Haight residence on the corner of Fifth Avenue and Fifteenth Street, with its large winter garden;4 the brownstone house of Colonel Herman Thorn in Sixteenth Street, west of the avenue, standing in its wide grounds (now nearly filled by the New York Hospital); the residence of Mr. and Mrs. August Belmont (so long leaders in society), on the avenue, at the corner of Eighteenth Street, extending with its picture gallery a long distance on the street; the Stuart residence, which shared the block above Twentieth Street with a church; and then the Union Club house at Twenty-first Street. Perhaps of all the landmarks taken down during the time of the present generation, none was so well known as the Goelet house at Broadway and Nineteenth Street, with the grounds extending eastward toward Fourth Avenue. Thousands of people passed every day in the short stretch between the two squares. Mr. Peter Goelet’s penchant for rare and beautiful birds was a never-ending delight to every passing child and adult, and a number were always standing gazing past the iron railing. Peacocks white and blue, Chinese golden pheasants, and many other varieties found a comfortable home in the grounds.

The appearance of the entire city now gives the impression of life and bustle. With the exception of Gramercy Square and Irving Place, there is hardly a spot in the lower part of the city that now has any appearance of repose. Thirty years ago the city presented a wholly different aspect. Fifth Avenue, from Washington to Madison Square, was, in the opinion of the writer, one of the finest residence streets anywhere. At most hours of the day the people on the sidewalks were comparatively few and there was a very small proportion of business wagons and trucks that used the roadway as compared with the numbers that do so to-day. University Place was a street of nearly the same character, as was also Second Avenue from Seventh Street to Stuyvesant Square. This street had a charm of its own. Lined as it was on either side with spacious residences, it gave the impression of a street of homes. The façades of the largest houses were simple and unpretentious, forming a marked contrast to some of the houses uptown to-day.

As regards the matter of repose, it may be said that twenty-five years ago the palm would clearly have been given to Lafayette Place. This short street also had a character of its own. From the Langdon house on the east side near Astor Place to old St. Bartholomew’s Church at Great Jones Street, and from the Langdon (Wilks) house on the west side to the Schermerhorn house opposite the church, almost every building had its individuality. The street was marred by three or four ancient buildings, which for some reason were not removed, such as the stable between the Langdon house and the Astor Library, once the favorite Riding Academy. The Library still (1906) stands, as does a part of the old Colonnade, but an earthquake could hardly have wrought greater changes than has the march of trade.

The large mansion of the first John Jacob Astor stood separated from the Library by a gateway and broad alley reaching to the stables in the rear. Adjoining was a group of houses of the style of those in Washington Square, broad and “high-stooped.” Opposite, on the corner of Fourth Street, stood a church whose portico of granite Ionic columns (each a monolith brought with great trouble from Maine) was one of the wonders of the town. Almost adjoining was the Swan residence, since converted into the Church House of the diocese, and then the Colonnade with its long row of granite Corinthian columns, considered a marvel in its day. Next to these was the “English basement” house of the late Charles Astor Bristed, with arch and driveway leading to the rear, and on the corner the Langdon (Wilks) house, when it was built, the finest in town. Being a short street, blocked at one end and leading only to Astor Place at the other, the drivers of very few vehicles ever took the trouble to turn into it, except the driver of a private carriage, perhaps a closed coach drawn by heavy horses (for the cobble stones were rough); the coachman on a vast hammercloth embellished with fringes and tassels, as was frequently seen forty years ago, the footman sometimes standing behind, his hands grasping two leather loops to hold himself in place. So quiet was the street that on a pleasant afternoon the youngsters who dwelt in the neighborhood carried on their game of ball undisturbed. Perhaps it was this feature of quiet repose which suggested the suitability of establishing there the Library, the churches, the Columbia College Law School, and the Church House.

The writer might go on and refer extensively to other ancient streets and the changed aspect of other places throughout the city, but that is not his present purpose.

There are a few old landmarks that are likely to stand, for example the City Hall, in the opinion of some the most successful building, as to architectural design, in the country.

Abandoned to materialism as the city is and lacking sentiment, nevertheless any proposal to take down the City Hall, or even to alter it ever so slightly, meets with vigorous protests.5

Possibly people might object if it were proposed to destroy St. Paul’s Chapel, the oldest church edifice in the city, and so with a few other buildings; but the majority of the landmarks must go and hideous skyscrapers arise, “monuments to greed” as they have been termed, half ruining adjacent properties.

It was with a view of preserving the appearance of some of these landmarks that may be torn down any day that these pictures were taken. Endeavor has been made to present those that have been in existence about fifty years. With two exceptions the buildings represented are now (1906) standing.

Mistakes and errors no doubt appear in the text, and these the writer would be glad to correct. The notes in no sense profess to be thorough. They are, for the most part, mere skeletons of what may be said upon the subjects dealt with.