photograph by the author

Isaac Blauvelt made his living as a cartman--or delivery driver.  But like several other blue collar workers, he managed to get in on the Greenwich Village building boom in the 1820's.  In 1827 he erected a handsome brick-faced house at No. 531 Hudson Street and a stunningly narrow house around the corner on the end of the L-shaped plot, at No. 118 Charles Street.

Thirteen years later, in 1841, Blauvelt added to his holdings by building a two-and-a-half story home at No. 120 Charles Street.  Its architect took inspiration from both the Federal and newer Greek Revival styles.  The 22-foot wide house was trimmed in brownstone.  Its doorway above the stone stoop was slightly off balance with the upper floor openings  This was because of the horsewalk that nestled up to the stoop.  Essentially a tunnel that provided access to the rear yard, it was most likely used by the occupants of both 118 and 120.

If Blauvelt initially leased the house to a single family, it was being operated as a boarding house by the early 1850's.  Among the respectable residents in 1854 was Mary Jane Davis, a teacher in the Primary Department of Public School No. 3, at the corner of Hudson and Grove Streets.  Because she earned $125 that year, or about $3,760 today, she most likely could afford only a single room.

An advertisement in The New York Herald on May 31, 1856 offered "Three rooms, in a small, genteel house, with gas, &c., to a man and wife, or family of two persons.  The rent will be $12.50 per month."  That was one-tenth of Mary Jane Davis's annual income.

Although the advertisement described the house as "genteel," several of its boarders continued to manage on meager incomes.  George Wilkinson lived here in 1865.  He was a cartman and volunteered as a firefighter, or "laddie," at the Columbian Hook & Ladder Company, No. 14 nearby at No. 96 Charles Street.

The boarding house was being leased and operated by Charles M. Turner, and his wife Hilah in the early 1870's.  Turner ran other rental incomes, as evidenced by his advertisement on June 15, 1873.  "Country Board can be obtained on Long Island Sound, near the steamboat landing; splendid bathing, boating and fishing; terms reasonable."

Less than a month later the Turner's 24-year old son, Charles, Jr., died in the Charles Street house.  His funeral was held on Staten Island two days later.

Among the Turners' boarders was policeman John F. Standish.  He had been appointed to the newly-formed Metropolitan Police force on April 26, 1854.  By 1876 while living here he was working with the Steamboat Squad, earning a comfortable $1,200 per year.

Also in the house that year was Henry Tunin.  He had apparently befriended an elderly widow, Josephine A Colton.  The New York Times described her as an "unfortunate woman," following her suicide on July 7, 1876.  She left Tunin a silver cake basket and caster in her will "for his readiness and kindness in assisting me when requested."

No. 120 was owned by H. N. Camp at the time; but he fell behind on his mortgage payments in 1881.  On January 14, 1882 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that the house would be sold two days later in foreclosure auction.   The winning bid of $5,310--equal to about $131,000 today--was placed by Charles P. Kuper.

Officer John Standish was still among Kuper's boarders.  He retired in 1884 and in 1886 was living on his pension of $600; about half of his former salary.  It may have been his reduced income that prompted him to move to New Jersey within a few years.

Charles I. Stewart acquired both No. 120 and its skinny next door neighbor, No. 118, around 1928.  He leased both in March 1929, The New York Times noting "The buildings are being renovated for studio apartments.

Architect Clive Wing's renovations included cutting an entrance above the horsewalk of No. 120 and installing a wide stoop to provide access to both buildings.

A double-wide stoop provided access to both buildings.  photo via NYC Department of Records

Perhaps the most celebrated of the tenants at No. 120 was Holly Beye, who moved in with her new husband, David Ruff, in 1946.  A reporter at PM, a leftist publication founded by Marshall Field, her true focus was on writing fiction, poetry and drama.   The couple left Charles Street in 1951 when they relocated to San Francisco.  In 2006 her journal of the life of struggling artists in the 1940's was published under the title 120 Charles Street, the Village:  Journals and Writings, 1949-1950.



In 1969 another renovation joined Nos. 118 and 120 internally.  The stoop of No. 118 was removed and its entrance bricked up.   Unfortunately, the owners and architects did not make an effort to match the brick nor to restore the entrance.

The handsome Italianate home was originally numbered No. 5 Van Nest Place.

Abraham Van Nest, president of the Greenwich Savings Bank, purchased "Greenwich," the former country mansion of British vice-admiral Peter Warren in 1821.  By then the once-sprawling grounds had been reduced to a city block, bounded by Charles, Hammond (later Bleecker), West 4th and Amos Street.  As Greenwich Village grew up around it, the mansion and its grounds survived until shortly after Van Nest's death in 1864.

Charles Christopher Amos had inherited the portion of the Peter Warren estate directly to the south of the mansion, which he portioned into building plots.  He named three of the streets on his property after himself: Charles, Christopher and Amos (later West 10th) Streets.   But he gave a nod to Abraham Van Nest by christening the north side of one block of Charles Street, between Bleecker and West 4th Street, Van Nest Place.  It was not uncommon at the time to give short sections of streets separate names, implying their upscale status.  It resulted in three blocks of East 8th Street becoming St. Mark's Place, for instance.

Because only the north side of the block was Van Nest Place, the addresses were sequential,  Wealthy brewer Walter W. Price purchased the lots at Nos. 4, 5 and 6 Van Nest Place.  He commissioned architect Gage Inslee to design the middle house, and almost assuredly the nearly identical flanking houses as well.

Completed in 1866, the houses were three bays wide and three stories tall above brownstone-fronted English basements.  No. 5, like its neighbors, was faced in red brick and trimmed in stone.  The elevated financial position of its intended occupants was reflected in the heavy Italianate ironwork of the stoop and areaway, the double-doored entrance and its especially attractive stone enframement.


Price  had come to America in 1840, and in 1860 partnered with Ebenezer Beadelston in the brewing firm of Beadleston & Price on West 10th Street.  Two important events occurred in Price's life just weeks apart in 1865.  On July 1 he married Constance Bridge Tallon, and on July 26, with the retirement of Beadelston, the brewery was reorganized.  Ernest G. W. Woerz became vice-president and Price's new partner.  The firm was renamed Beadelston, Price & Woerz. 

It is unclear whether Price and his new bride moved into No. 5 Van Nest Place.  The couple would soon have two children, but there would be significant problems in their domestic tranquility.  On April 23, 1839, the year before Price arrived in New York, he had married Susanna Butler in England.  He neglected to inform Constance of the marriage nor did he move to divorce Susanna.

But, although Constance left him in 1871, things worked out well enough.  The courts annulled the first marriage in 1874, deciding that Price had assumed his first wife dead, and declared the couple's two children legitimate.

By then No. 5 Van Nest Place had been home for several years to Price's partner.  Price sold it to Ernest G. W. Woerz in 1869.  Born in Stuttgart, Germany in 1835, he had come to the United States while still a young man and, like Price, had immediately gone into the brewing business.   His significant wealth by now was evidenced by his memberships in the Larchmont Yacht Club in Westchester County and the Seabright Yacht Club in New Jersey.

On the night of October 22, 1879, the Weorz house and the John Loughlin house nearby had intruders.  Two days later The New York Times reported "On Wednesday night burglars, with a patent 'jack,' broke the bars from he rear basement windows of No. 62 Perry-street and Nos. 3 and 5 Van Nest-place."  The rear yards of the Perry Street and Van Nest Place houses were back-to-back.

Having broken into Nos 3 and 5 Van Nest Place, the burglars were inside the Perry Street house when the next door neighbor heard them.  He rushed to the street and found a policeman.  One of the armed thieves was captured.  "Mr. E. G. W. Woertz, of No. 5 Van Nest-place, lost a few articles of clothing," reported The Times.  The family seems to have gotten off lightly, considering the silverware and other valuable items missing from the other houses.

On December 27, 1880 Woertz sold No. 5 to William F. Schneider for $13,000, about $322,000 today.  Schneider leased it to Dr. C. E. Locke, who operated his office from the house.  He announced his office hours as from 8 to 10 a.m., 2 to 4 p.m., and 7 to 9 p.m.

John H. Seaman and his wife, Matilda, next owned the house.  He was the principal in the John H. Seaman Co., dealers in "masons' building materials."  The couple sold it on February 10, 1887 to John Henry Gerdes and his wife, the former Anna Catherine Tienken.   Property values had increased on the affluent block.  The $16,000 price tag would translate to about $425,000 today.  As was common, the title was put in Anna's name.

A German immigrant, Gerdes was a liquor concessionaire--providing refreshments in several taverns throughout the city.   He also dealt in real estate.  At the time of the purchase the couple had three children, 13-year old Emma, 10-year old Henry Theodore, and 8-year old Theodore Richard Nicholas.

As the century drew to a close, the boys attended the Stevens Institute of Technology.  Both were graduated in 1902 and embarked on rather remarkable careers.  In 1905 Henry was an inspector in the mechanical engineer's office of the New York Central Railroad, and Theodore was an inspector of electric subways for the Interborough Rapid Transit Co.

The Gerdes brothers, Henry (top) and Theodore R. N. as they appeared in 1905.  A History of the Stevens Institute of Technology (copyright expired)

The ambitious young men went on to other endeavors.  In 1906 Henry and his father incorporated the Ross Steam Specialty Company with other two other investors.  John took on the position of president.  And by 1911 Henry was a director in the Manhattan High Powered Motor Co., as well.

While the men of the family were tied up with business projects, Anna and Emma enjoyed a more relaxed lifestyle.  On September 6, 1906 The New York Times noted "Mrs. John H. Gerdes and Miss Gerdes of New York City have arrived at the Montanesco [in Mount Pocono], where they will occupy suites during the Autumn weeks."

Spring was the season of love for neighborhood cats in 1912, a situation that disturbed Theodore's peace.  He wrote to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, to the State Board of Charities and, according to him, "several other unsympathetic organizations," asking them to do something about the nighttime yowling.  When he got no satisfaction, he wrote to the mayor, William Jay Gaynor.

The mayor, too, was unsympathetic.  His letter of March 8, 1912 dripped with sarcasm:

Dear Mr. Gerdes:

I regret to say that I have so many official duties pressing upon me that I cannot just now devote any time to the tomcats.  There are a few in my neighborhood, but I go to sleep and let them howl.  It amuses them and doesn't hurt me.  But some say that it is the pussycats that howl, and not the tomcats.  How is that?  We must not kill tommy for the sins of pussy.  And, also, let us remember that the '"female of the species is more deadly than the male."

One of Theodore's inventions, the Gerdes Roof Ventilator.  Sweet's Architectural Catalog, 1918 (copyright expired)

Commerce & Finance, March 10, 1920 (copyright expired)

On Saturday, January 23, 1926 John H. Gerdes died suddenly in the house he had called home for 39 years.  He was 80 years old.  His funeral was held in the house three days later.  The following year on April 29, 1927, Anna died at the age of 78.  Her funeral, too, was held in the house.

The title to No. 5 was passed to the unmarried Emma.  At the time property owners on the block were beginning to question the advisability of keeping the Victorian name.  On May 6, 1928 The New York Times reported "Residents of that little-known thoroughfare in the heart of Greenwich Village, designated on the city map as Van Nest Place, feel that the time has come to abandon that name as has been done in the past with many other names of small and once select localities."  A petition had been drawn up to rename the block; but it would be years before change came.  Finally, in 1936 the Gerdes house was renumbered 59 Charles Street.

The block as it appeared at the time of the name change.  The New York Times, June 7, 1936

The 20th century did not infiltrate the world inside the mid-19th century residence.  Although her brothers were successful engineers, the only concession to modernity within the house was the conversion from gas to electric lighting.  In 1923 Anna had replaced the wallpaper on the stairwell.  It was the last updating that would take place during a Gerdes residency.

Emma lived on alone in the house--Henry died in 1948 and Theodore in 1953.  Along with the house she had inherited her father's real estate holdings.  The New York Times reported, for instance, on June 1, 1961, that "After an ownership of forty-three years, Emma C. Gerdes has sold the four-story store and apartment building at 542 Third Avenue."

Having lived in her Victorian time capsule for 92 years, Emma died on October 6, 1966.  Her funeral was held in St. John's Lutheran Church on Christopher Street. 

The Charles Street house was sold the following spring.  Gordon F. McClure and his wife bought a page torn from 1866.  On April 23, 1967 The New York Times reported "The house is virtually the same as it was when Miss Gerdes was a little girl."  The article described the zinc-lined bathtub in the only bathroom and noted "The bedrooms are still equipped with cabinet-enclosed washstands that had running water."

Photos of the parlor mantel and the cast iron kitchen stove appeared in April 23, 1967 the The New York Times article.  photos by Allyn Baum

"All the rooms have marble-mantled fireplaces and these are especially elaborate in the parlor and adjoining library in the rear.  Large, gilt-framed mirrors are placed over the parlor and library fireplaces, and a floor-to-ceiling pier glass between the parlor's two front windows supports a heavily carved gilt cornice."  From the frescoed parlor ceiling hung the original gilded chandelier with frosted glass globes.

The McClures anticipated making obvious updates, including new plumbing and electricity and installing central heating and air conditioning.  An additional bathroom was installed (and the zinc tub replaced) and the kitchen modernized.  Nevertheless, the cast iron stove was kept, "if only to look at."  The couple assured they would make "as few changes as possible."


No substantial renovation plans have been filed since the McClures gently updated the house, suggesting the Emma Gerdes's well-preserved 19th century interiors still survive.

photographs by the author

In 1854 volunteer companies made up Manhattan's fire fighting force.  Their members, who all had other jobs, lived near their firehouses.  Called "laddies," they scrambled to the station on alarm of fire.  That year a new group, Columbian Hook and Ladder Company No. 14 was organized in Greenwich Village.   

The property at No. 96 Charles Street, nearby the new police station at No. 100, was deemed a good location for its firehouse.  In June 1855 a Board of Aldermen report recommended the property as the new firehouse.  It was owned by Samuel D. Chase who lived nearby on West 11th Street.  Only months earlier he had completed a house on the the site with a stable in the rear. 

If the need for a new fire company in the immediate neighborhood was ever in doubt, a fire one month after the Aldermen's report may have eliminated the question.  Ironically, the blaze which broke out around 2:00 on the afternoon of July 16 was in the stable behind No. 96 Charles Street.  It caused damages of about $100--nearly $3,000 today.

This would not be the first time the city's architect was tasked with converting a residence into a firehouse.  In 1854 an upscale home at No. 269 Henry Street was transformed for Americus Engine Company No. 6.  The Charles Street house, too, would emerge as a handsome firehouse.  

The renovations were completed in 1857.  As was typical, large, centered bay doors were flanked by entrances.  The arched stone pediment over the bay doors was echoed above the upper windows.  An understated sheet-metal cornice crowned the design.

The ground floor held the company's brand new truck, constructed by Pine & Hartshorn in 1856, and its team of sturdy horses.  The second floor held a dormitory, a library, and a "grand meeting room and parlor."   The top floor housed equipment including racks for drying hoses, for instance, and a "trunk room."

Members of the Columbian Hook and Ladder Company, No. 14 represented a wide variety of mostly blue collar jobs.  The 1857 roster includes clerks, cartmen, three ice dealers, several carpenters, two painters, a locksmith, a bookbinder and a grocer.  There were also one silversmith and a jeweler in the group.  The "laddies" came and went as their schedules demanded; but one member, Peter W. Fraleigh, lived here full-time.

A few weeks after the Civil War broke out Colonel Elmer E. Ellsworth, a personal friend of Abraham Lincoln, organized the 11th New York Volunteer Infantry Regiment, composed entirely of fire fighters.  Several of the member of Columbian Hook and Ladder Company, No. 14 joined the unit known popularly as the Fire Zuoaves.

The group quickly saw action, winning a battle in May 1861 almost immediately upon arriving in the South.  The enemy's flag was sent home.  On June 1 The New York Times reported "The first Confederate flag taken in Virginia by the Fire Zuoaves, will be hoisted, union down, under the Stars and Stripes, on Sunday morning, at 10 o'clock, on the house of No. 14 Hook and Ladder Company, at No. 96 Charles-street."

The firefighter soldiers would return home to a changing fire department.  The Act of 1865, enacted on March 30, coupled Brooklyn and New York with a paid “Metropolitan District” fire department.  The volunteer companies were disbanded and No. 96 Charles Street became home to the new Hook and Ladder Company No. 5.

The unit's importance in squashing the many fires in the district was evidenced in January 1884 when the Fire Commissioners decided to "double up" Hook and Ladder Company No. 5 by providing an additional truck and "a sufficient additional force...to man the reserve apparatus."

Most fire houses acquired a mascot and Hook and Ladder Company No. 5 adopted Ginger in 1882.  The New York Times described him as "a nondescript dog, pedigree unknown."  The mutt was a favorite among neighborhood girls who "stopped at the truckhouse on their way to and from school for a romp with 'Ginger.'"  But Ginger was more than a playmate, he was a true fire house dog.

"Ginger was essentially a fireman's dog and took an almost human interest in the affairs of the company.  He was prompt to answer alarms of fire, and when the truck rolled out of the quarters his short, sharp bark mingled with the gong's louder tones as he ran at the head of the horses," wrote The Times.

But then, on November 17, 1888, 16 years after the dog first arrived at the firehouse, The New York Times ran the headline "Ginger Is No More."  Ginger was "taking his constitutional walk in Bleecker-street," the day before when he was run over by a truck.  A policeman, recognizing that the dog's wounds were fatal, ended its misery by shooting it in the head.

Ginger's body was laid out with dignity in the side yard of the firehouse.  "When his death became known yesterday to the school children they thronged to the truckhouse for a last look at their pet."  He was buried there the following day.

Possibly, Ginger's unmarked grave still exists in the adjoining yard.

The galloping horses pulling the heavy fire equipment presented a danger to vehicles and pedestrians despite the loud gongs of the trucks' bells.  When a fire erupted at No. 8 West 13th Street on the afternoon of November 18, 1901 Hook and Ladder Company No. 5 responded.  Mrs. Mary Smith, a missionary of the Church of the Strangers, stepped into the street directly in the path of the charging fire truck.

The Evening World reported that the driver "tried to save her" by veering the truck; "but the horses knocked her down."  The fire truck then ran directly into a street car.  Hook and Ladder Company No. 5 never made it to the fire and Mary Smith was removed to St. Vincent's Hospital.

The company appeared in the press most often, however, for the heroics of its members.  Such was the case on March 9, 1921 when fire tore through the apartment of J. W. Ferrington at No. 249 West 11th Street.   Ferrington was an invalid, unable to get out of his smoke-filled rooms.

Fire fighters broke in the door to find that "flames were sweeping across the rooms," according to The Evening World.  Fireman Hogan dropped to his hands and knees and felt his way through the apartment.  Other fire fighters aimed their hose directly on him.  "The only possible manner by which he could penetrate the flames and smoke was by the protection of streams of water constantly played upon him, and in this manner he went from room to room."

Hogan finally found Ferrington, who had managed to tumble out of the bed.  He was crouching by a window, trying to breathe.  The newspaper reported that Hogan "dragged him to the hallway, the water drenching both throughout their progress."

In the meantime, the fire spread to two apartments on the floor above.  Mrs. Simon J. Medico was visiting with her 8-month-old son, Simon, Jr. on the fifth floor.  She "became hysterical when she found her way blocked by smoke and screamed from a window."   She managed to climb part way down the fire escape and pass her baby to a neighbor in an adjacent building.

The fire also extended into the apartment of Daniel J. Phelan, whose 16-year-old son, Edward, rushed upstairs after the blaze was extinguished.  The Evening World explained he needed "to assure himself of the safety of two pet canaries and his first long trousers.  The smoke had killed the canaries, and the flames had burned the legs off the trousers."

In 1936 the Charles Street block was renumbered, assigning the firehouse the new address of No. 102.

A five-alarm blaze on June 20, 1942 wrecked nearly the entire Greenwich Village block bordered by Hudson, Washington, Leroy and Clarkson Streets.  The inferno resulted in 50 injuries to fire fighters, $15 million in damages by today's standards, and the total loss of Hook and Ladder Company No. 5's truck.

At one point, according to The New York Times, "The north wall crashed with a tearing, crunching sound and a barrage of flying bricks...Hook and Ladder Truck 5, stationed at 102 Charles Street, and accordingly one of the first pieces of apparatus to respond, fared worse than any of the men."  The truck had been pulled "close in" on Leroy Street.  When the wall smashed down, it flattened the fire truck.  Amazingly, warned by a large crack that appeared in the masonry, all of the fire fighters escaped.

Fire fighters clamber over the wreckage of Company 5's truck.  The New York Times June 21, 1942

As had been the case in the 1880's, Hook and Ladder Company 5 had a mascot.  This one, named Prince, was no mutt like Ginger, however.  He was a pedigree Dalmatian--the iconic fire house breed.

The men of Company 5 held their dog in such high esteem that they entered him in the special fire dog category in Brooklyn Kennel Club Dog Show on December 3, 1949.  A month earlier, on November 24, The Times reported "Firemen are stealing a little time from polishing brass these days to groom their Dalmatians for the special competition."

Fire Chief Joseph J. Scanlon tried to discourage the practice of fire dogs, telling a Times reported "Officially, the department has no interest in dogs," adding "A firehouse is no longer a good place for a dog in these high-powered, mechanized days.  They may fall off the speeding trucks answering an alarm, or get run over or they sometimes get lost in the crowded city.  The average life of a firehouse dog is not much more than one year today, I'd guess."

The cold water the chief threw on the event did not discourage the men of Hook and Ladder Company No. 5.  Prince was shown at the show by Fireman Leonard Smith.  Because it was a special category, no award was given.

Prince is groomed by Company 5 fire fighters before the show.  The New York Times, November 24, 1949

It was cats which caused problems to the fire fighters 11 years later.  In the fall of 1960, unknown to the men, two feral cats took up residence in the basement.  One had a litter of kittens there.  They were not the only new residents.

On September 11 the men began scratching.  One by one they showed signs of bites until, as reported by The New York Times, "After two days of scratching, the company captain, Benjamin J. Ciranna, complained to Battalion Chief Cornelius P. Harrington."  Chiefs Harrington and Otto H. Knochenhauer went to the firehouse to investigate.  They were promptly bitten.

A Fire Department spokesman said "investigation proved the invaders were not gnats or mosquitoes but straight out-and-out fleas--the dog type."  The firehouse was vacated.  The Times quipped "The twenty-five officers and firemen of Ladder Company 5, victors over raging holocausts, collapsing walls and barricades of beams, have been forced to retreat before an ignoble enemy--an army of fleas."

The truck and its men were temporarily lodged at Engine Company 24 at No. 78 Morton Street.  Pioneer Exterminating Company spent three days in the firehouse, fumigating it with a "machine vaporizer."  The firefighters returned home on September 16.

The 136-year history of No. 102 Charles Street as a firehouse came to an end in 1993.  A renovation, completed the following year resulted in a store at street level and one apartment each on the upper floors.


For years the ground floor, formerly home to horses and then motorized fire trucks, held the Plane Space art gallery.  It houses an upscale handbags and accessories boutique today.

photographs by the author

Herman Thalman lived at No. 129 Charles Street in the spring of 1897 when he commissioned architect Henry Andersen to design a replacement building on the site.  The plans, filed on April 30, called for a brick "stable and dwelling" to cost $12,000--about $366,000 today.   Construction did not start for many months, and was completed in 1898.

Andersen used cast iron elements to create the ground floor where two doorways flanked the central carriage bay.  Above an undressed granite cornice three floors of gray brick were trimmed in rough-cut stone and white brick.  Recessed panels executed in brick added interest.  Above the carriage bay a carved panel announced Thalman's name.  A handsomely carved horse's head--a common decoration of livery stables--graced the central opening of the third floor.


It is possible that Henry Thalman originally spelled his surname with an additional "n."  At least one source spells it "Thalmann."  If so, he had dropped the "n" by the time he started this project and even the building plans use the revised spelling.

Although the Thalman family owned a house at No. 269 West 10th Street, they moved into the dwelling space above the stable.  Thalman leased the stable section to independent proprietors.  The first was E. M. Creigle who sublet the operation in 1898 to the National L. A. Fixtures company.  The concern ran livery stables in several other locations.  Only a year later W. H. Rich was in charge of the stables, his business listed as "horses, vans, &c."

Herman Thalman was only 34 years old when he died upstairs on March 11, 1900.  J. Connet was operating the stable on January 25, 1902 when the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide announced that auctioneer "L. J. Phillips & Co. will sell at auction Tuesday, February 4th, No. 269 West 10th st and No. 129 Charles st."

The building was purchased by James F. Carroll for $22,500--more than $660,000 today.  He, like Thalman, he leased the building.  Carroll owned properties throughout the city, several in Greenwich Village.

William Fox ran his "stable and trucks" operation from ground level from 1902 through 1906.  The stable business saw change by the end of World War I as automobiles increasingly replaced horses.

Following Carroll's death his estate sold No. 129 in May 1922.  It was purchased by Henry J. Comens, head of the Henry J. Comens, Inc.  He and his wife, Helen, had four children and had lived in the upper floors of the building since 1913.

Although he originally continued the business as a boarding stable and offered "horses to hire;" before many years his company operated solely an auto-truck firm.  Comen's trucking company was listed as a "common carrier" by the Interstate Commerce Commission, which meant that his trucks were licensed to handle freight from various shippers and manufacturers.  (The business was apparently profitable, for in 1922 he was driving a Cadillac sedan.)  Comens disguised Henry Thalman's name above the truck bay by covering it with his own name.

Glimpsed at the right of this photo in October 1928, Comen's sign above the carriage bay reads "Henry J. Comens, Inc. Boarding Stable."  The original configuration of the entrance doors can be see, as well as striped awnings at the top floor.  photograph from the collection of the New York Public Library

On April 23, 1941 The New York Times reported that Comens had leased "the three-story commercial building" to John Spagnuolo.  The article noted it would be used "for the servicing and storage of machinery ad pneumatic equipment."  Spagnulolo's occupancy would be brief, only through 1943.

Seen partially at the right of this photo, the cornice had been removed by 1939. photograph by Arnold Moses from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Aacon Contracting Co. purchased the building in 1943.  It operated its woodworking operation here through 1949 when the building saw a rapid-fire turnover in ownership.   Purchased by Lilliam Schumacher, it was resold on June 27, 1949 to Richard Nussbaum.  Seven months later, on January 15, 1950, he sold it to The 129 Charles Street Corporation.

The new owners converted the ground floor to a garage and metal shop for tenant Matus Roffing Co.  Department of Buildings documents allowed two trucks to share the space with the metal shop, while insisting that the upper floors were to remain "permanently vacant."  Matus Roffing Co. remained here through 1965.

In 1972 Leonard Kaye and John L. Pace (of Kapac Realty Co.) purchased No. 129.  A subsequent renovation resulted in a "storage area and offices" on the first floor, offices on the second and a photographic studio on the third.  The ground floor was reconfigured with wider bay doors which erased the western entrance and one of the historic cast iron piers.  The neighborhood's increasing popularity (and subsequently its property values) was evidenced in Kaye's taking out of a $700,000 mortgage in 1986--equal to more than $1.5 million today.

That situation was even more clearly reflected in 2008 when the building sold for $7 million.  On April 16 The New York Times reported "A developer plans to convert this 7,000-square-foot, four-story commercial building, now with two tenants, into apartments."


Those apartments would survive only eight years.  A renovation completed in 2016 created a single-family house above a two-story garage.  Included in the conversion was the replacement of the long-lost cornice.

photographs by the author