The Lost 1871 Kemp Building - NE Corner of Cedar and William Streets

Ornate decorations included large cast iron griffins on the stubby stoop newels, massive statues at the third floor corner, and carved stone urns.  Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, June 25, 1898 (copyright expired)

In 1870 George Kemp had come a long way since he arrived in New York from Ireland with his family at the age of five.  Active in real estate development, The New York Times would later note “He erected many fine buildings upon the real estate that he owned.”  He was also the proprietor of the Buckingham Hotel; but his great fortune was made in Lanman & Kemp, a perfumery nationally-known for its Florida Water and Eau de Cologne.  Florida Water was so popular (today we would call it a “body splash”) that baseball teams used it as a refresher during hot games.

Early in 1870 Kemp hired renowned architect Griffith Thomas to design an office building at the northeast corner of Center and William Streets.  His plans, filed in May, called for a "five story and basement iron and brick building for offices."  They gave no hint of the architectural extravaganza that was to come.

Working with the Architectural Iron Works, Thomas designed a flamboyant cast-iron faced structure in the French Second Empire style.  Technically five stories tall, the full-height basement level made it the visual equivalent of six.   The classical temple-like entrance rose a floor and a half, its staircase continuing upward within the archway.  Thomas gently curved the corner and embellished the facade with balustrades, balconies, and columns.  At the third floor corner a plaque which announced the building's name and date was flanked by cast iron statues a full floor in height.  The elaborate 11-foot tall mansard, covered in fish-scale slate shingles and sprouting elaborate dormers, was crowned by tall iron cresting.

On September 30, 1871 the Evening Telegram called the Kemp Building "most majestic and imposing in appearance," adding "the building cost $225,000, and is cheap at that."  That cost would equal $4.86 million today.

Kemp moved the offices of Lanman & Kemp into the new building, and leased additional space to a variety of businesses.  An advertisement on December 28, 1871 suggested the appropriate tenant:

Offices to Rent--Suitable for bankers, brokers and insurance companies, in the elegant building in William street, corner of Cedar, only one block from Wall street, known as the Kemp building; also in same building, on the third story, a Suit of Rooms, admirably arranged for lawyers' offices.

The structure, indeed, saw several attorneys move in, like Moran Brothers who were among the first tenants.  The attorneys counted among its clients the Toledo, Peoria and Western Railroad Company.  Other tenants in the building were also involved in the railroad industry.  On March 30, 1872, for instance, The Chronicle, announced that the firm of Winslow & Wilson had moved in.  "This firm transacts every kind of railway business," it said, adding that it had "special facilities for building, managing and equipping railways, negotiating railway loans and securities and selling state, city, town and county bonds."  And the headquarters of the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul Railway Company was here by 1876.

The City of New York, 1876, (copyright expired)

The legal offices of Burrill, Davison & Burrill were here by the end of the decades.  The firm was nearly the victim of a swindler in February 1880.  The New York Times reported that "A well-dressed stranger visited the law offices...and introduced himself to Mr. John E. Burrill as H. A. Pillman, of Baltimore."  He told "a long and interesting story" about his wealthy father's recent death and the unfair distribution of his estate.  A respected Baltimore lawyer, S. T. Wallace, referred the man to Burrill, Davison & Burrill.

Burrill promised that he would take the case after writing to Wallace for details.  A moment after being shown out of the office, Pillman reappeared.  "By the way, Mr. Burrill, I happen to be a little short of ready money at the moment.  Would you mind cashing a certified check for me?"

The amount of the $500 check, drawn on a Baltimore bank, would equal nearly $13,000 today.  His suspicions raised, Burrill said "I will send this to the bank and get the money for you.  Call around again in an hour."  Pillman happily agreed and left.  Burrill immediately telegraphed Wallace, who said he had met Pillman regarding the suit, but knew nothing about him.  Another telegram to the bank revealed that Pillman had no account there.  A detective waited for the crook to come back, but he never returned.

In 1883 the offices of commission merchants D. A. De Lima & Co. were in the building.  The firm dealt in "South American products."  Around 3:00 on the afternoon of September 17 a messenger boy handed David A. De Lima a letter containing terrifying information.  It said that De Lima's 8-year old daughter Lylia had been kidnapped and unless a $26,000 ransom was paid, "the little girl's throat would be cut from ear to ear and her body sent to her father's house," as reported by The New York Times.  The cash was to be sent to lawyer David De Leon who was to then deliver it to a "Mr. Spofford, on the Mall in Central Park."

De Lima sent a clerk to his home on East 57th Street where, ten minutes after he arrived, Mrs. De Lima and the girl returned home.  This was not the first attempt at extortion.  Three other letters had already been received, one by mail.  The De Limas had five children and "The last three letters contained threats to kill one of the children and do bodily harm to Mr. De Lima if he did not send the money to Mr. De Leon, to be given to Mr. Spofford," said The Times.  Neither De Lima nor De Leon could make sense of it.  Police Inspector Byrnes announced "It was not believed that there was any serious intention of killing any of Mr. De Lima's children."   

The case took an ironic twist when David A. De Lima was suited for $100,000 in damages by Daniel De Leon.  On January 11, 1884 The New York Times reported "De Leon asserts that De Lima has injured his fair fame by telling Inspector Byrnes and other persons that he believed De Leon was a party to a scheme to black-mail him."

Tenants in the building in 1889 included Albert Reynaud, described by the New-York Tribune as a "distinguished New-York City lawyer," and at least four other law firms.

George Kemp died on November 23, 1893.  The New-York Tribune's account was somewhat startling, saying the millionaire "died after an illness of several months on Thursday morning from malnutrition."  His estate retained ownership of the Kemp Building until May 1901, when it sold it to the New York Realty Company.

King's Photographic Views of New York 1895, (copyright expired)

Only two months later, on July 20, 1901, the New-York Tribune reported "The Kemp Building...was sold yesterday by the New-York Realty Company to a new corporation.  The building now on the site will be torn down, and a fifteen story structure built in its place."  The newly-formed group of owners had paid $750,000 for the property, or about $23.3 million in today's money.

The peacockish Kemp Building was demolished shortly after and construction on the Royal Bank of Canada building begun.  The Globe and Commercial Advertiser commented "the old Kemp Building...was a landmark, and gave the thoroughfare its distinctive character."  The Royal Bank of Canada building was completed in 1902 and demolished in 1991.  Today the site is a plaza fronting 2 Liberty Street.

The Lost "Rigging House" - 120 William Street

Henry R. Robinson produced this etching in 1846.  On either side can be seen later Federal-style homes..  from the collection of the Library of Congress

Barbara Heck (sometimes spelled Hick) was described as "a helping hand in every need" to one small group of Irish immigrants who had landed in New York on August 10, 1760.  But when she visited one family in the fall of 1766 she was horrified to find them playing cards.  According to Abel Stevens in his 1859 History of Methodism, "Seizing the cards she threw them into the fire and, hurrying to the home of Embury, which was in Barrack Street, now Park Place, she told what she had seen and done, and urged him to be no longer silent, but to rise up and preach the word of God."

"Embury" was Philip Embury, Barbara Heck's cousin.  A former carpenter he had been converted on Christmas Day 1752 by John Wesley, who was traveling through west Ireland.  It was Embury who had convinced his family and neighbors to sail to New York.

He "joyfully consented" to Heck's pleas and thus began the first Methodist Episcopal congregation in America--consisting of five members.  Eventually the Irish Palatine Methodists outgrew Embury's house and a larger place of worship was necessary.   A humble, rented space would have to suffice.  As church historian Nathan Bangs explained in 1829, "The members of the society were mostly poor, a few in number, and but little known among the wealthy and influential portion of the citizens."

More than a century before landfill would widen lower Manhattan, Horse and Cart Street (known today as William Street) was about four blocks from the riverfront.  There was a tavern named The Horse and Cart on the street; but which name came first is uncertain.

Also on Horse and Cart Street was a ship chandlers shop.  The loft was used for assembling the rope and cables making up the rigging of sailing ships.  The shop's owner had rented the loft for a few years to a tiny Baptist congregation for its services, until the 27-member congregation built a small church on Gold Street near John Street in 1760.

Now, in 1766, the Methodists rented the rigging loft.  In 1858 the Rev. Joseph B. Wakeley, in his Early History of American Methodism, somewhat dramatically compared the Methodists' loft to "what the 'upper room' in Jerusalem was to the disciples."  He wrote "The Rigging Loft was not distinguished for its magnificence or architectural beauty.  It was sixty feet long and eighteen wide.  Humble as it was, it had attractions for the early Methodists in this city that few places had, however splendid."

Exactly when No. 120 William Street was erected is unclear.  Early 19th century historians routinely called it "the last relic of the Old Dutch architecture of New-Amsterdam."   The clapboard building, however, showed little if any Dutch influence.  Wakeley described it as "a little, plain, modest building, that stood with its gable-end toward the street."

The Methodist congregation rented the space for nearly two years before, as The New York Times explained on October 29, 1893, "The sail loft in William Street now was found to be too small.  Crowds attended [Embury's] meetings."   In fact, according to Joseph Wakeley, "it could not contain half the people who desired to hear the word of the Lord."  In 1768 a church was built on John Street, near Nassau Street.

It appears that after the Revolution the former rigging loft was being leased as rented rooms by the building's owner, a "Mr. Winters."  In 1798 the city was ravaged by a terrifying yellow fever epidemic.   James Hardie described it in his 1799 An Account of the Malignant Fever, Lately Prevalent in the City of New-York, saying "death, speedy death, seemed to be the indiscriminate portion of the inhabitants of this wealthy metropolis," and quoted one newspaper which wrote "parents and children, husbands and wives, brothers and sisters were suddenly torn from the feeling bosoms of their relatives, while the mourning survivors were themselves momentarily expecting the solemn call."

While those who could afford to fled "in every direction from the infected places, as from a conflagrated town," the poor upper-floor occupants of No. 120 William Street were not so fortunate.  Two of them died of the disease:  John Jacob Ernings, "an apprentice," and the "Widow Wolf."

The little wooden building survived even as Federal homes, and then commercial buildings crowded onto William Street.  In 1839 W. Bishop, "Tuscan and Straw Hat Manufacturer," opened his millinery store here.  His announcement in the Morning Herald on May 7 advised in part "The subscriber begs most respectfully to inform the Ladies that he will open the store No. 120 William street, on Wednesday...with a new and splendid assortment of Tuscan and Straw Hats, which he will sell wholesale or retail at very reduced prices."

He lured fashion conscious shoppers by adding "he is enabled to offer bonnets combining all the recent improvements in shape and style at 20 per cent less than the usual retail prices.  His stock of Paris Ribbons will be found to surpass in variety and beauty any previously exhibited in this city."

Miss W. Blanc ran her fancy goods shop here in 1844 when she was recognized by the American Institute for "the best raised worsted work."

Two years later the shop was home to engravers and printers Doty & Bergen.  The company also listed themselves as "manufacturers of fancy & trunk papers."  (Trunk papers were the decorative paper linings in luggage and steamer trunks.)

In the meantime, the loft continued to be home to working class renters.  One was looking for work in 1852.  Her ad in The New York Herald on May 20 read "Wanted--By a respectable young woman, a situation as Plain Cook; is a good washer and ironer, and willing to do general housework, in a small private family; or is willing to do chamberwork and plain sewing."

It was possibly the same tenant who placed a second ad in November.  She seems to have seen an opportunity to see the world as well.  "Wanted--a situation by a respectable young woman, to go to Europe with a family, and to assist in taking care of children."

from American Methodism by Joseph Beaumont Wakeley, 1858, copyright expired

The little building seems to have been vacant a year later on April 23, 1853 when George W. Jenkins advertised it "to lease, for a term of fifteen or twenty years."  But times had changed and it appears he had no takers.

Joseph Wakeley mused "It is somewhat singular, that while all the buildings that were erected about the time of the Rigging Loft had passed away, this edifice remained so long, alone in its glory, a time-honored relic of the past."  But the relic was about to go.

It was demolished in 1854.  But the Methodists had not forgotten what they still called the "Cradle of American Methodism."  Wakeley wrote that wood from the "ruins" were salvaged.  "Its timbers were sound, and were made into canes, and many availed themselves of the opportunity to obtain a walking-stick, and at the same time secure a relic to remind them of the days of old.  An ivory head was placed upon each stick, and upon the head of each cane the following inscription: 'Rigging Loft, 1766.  Philip Embury.'"

The Lehn & Fink Building replaced the first commercial structure on the site.  rendering by Hughson Hawley, 1900, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The small loft building on the site of the Rigging House was replaced at the turn of the century by the druggists Lehn & Fink's eight-story building.  At the time the old Federal style homes on either side still survived.   Today no hint of that neighborhood remains.

photo via wikimapia

The Lost John Wolfe Building -- 80-82 William Street

photo Architectural Studies May 1899 (copyright expired)

On March 17, 1894 the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide reported that the old buildings on William Street, from Liberty Street to Maiden Lane would be demolished beginning May 1.   One of the buildings on the site was called the Wolfe Building; named for the family who had owned the land for a century and a half.

Now the estate of John Wolfe had commissioned respected architect Henry J. Hardenbergh, who had recently completed the hulking Waldorf Hotel, to design the new office building.   Hardenbergh was given the task of creating a 12-story structure on a rather thin plot of land—essentially what would later be termed a “sliver building.”  He drew his inspiration from the site—a section of what had once been New Amsterdam.

The Record and Guide reported “The materials to be used are Baltimore brick and terra cotta, and the style of architecture the ‘Dutch.’”  Hardenbergh had submitted a sketch to the Architectural League of New York three months earlier which depicted the skyscraper towering over the surrounding structures.

The thin brick and stone structure featured all the elements expected in an Amsterdam guild hall—ornate stepped gables and dormers, carved ornamentation and the stark contrast of red brick and white stone—stretched to towering proportions.  In January 1895 The Brickbuilder commented “here at the corner of Maiden Lane and William Street, on a lot only about twenty-five by seventy-five feet, at a guess, a really picturesque building, the John Wolfe Building, has been built…Twelve stories, all of red brick, and a great abundance of stone trimmings throughout, quoins, voussoirs, beltcourses, colonnettes, copings, towering upward with crownstepped gables and dormers, and balconies and bays; all most skillfully and logically worked out.”

Architectural Studies wrote “This building…has the merit, very unusual in a modern city building, of being picturesque in a thoroughly intelligent way.”  The critic added “It is interesting to see how this awkward shape of the ground was overcome and used to beautify the design.”

The John Wolfe Building was named in honor of the recently deceased hardware merchant.  The family’s wealth was reflected in son Christopher’s inheritance which included, according to The New York Times “his vast estates in the Thousand Islands” and Manhattan real estate. 

The Brickbuilder applauded Hardenbergh’s “successive retreating steps where the stories set back,” explaining that he successfully relieved the box-like appearance of such a tall structure.  “There is not a better studied piece of design in New York, nor one that shows better results.”

The John Wolfe Building sat squarely in the midst of the fire insurance district and, indeed, related firms moved in—like the Globe Fire Insurance Company which was here by 1897.  But a surprising number of construction-related companies took space here--like the Johnwhit Metal Company which moved from No. 62 William Street to the Wolfe Building in 1896.

In 1898 there were at least three cement and cement-related firms in the building.  The January 6 issue of Engineering News-Record ran advertisements for the Standard Silica Cement Co.; George M. Newcomer, Porland cement sales agent; and for F. L. Smidth & Co., “designers and builders of cement works” and “dealers in cement-manufacturing machinery.”   By 1901 at least two others would join them—Charles Warner Company, manufactures of lime products; and Curtin & Ver Valen, cement dealers.

 

Two of the building's cement-related firms were Standard Silica Cement and F. L. Smidth & Co.  (top, Real Estate Record & Guide, 1902; bottom, Directory of American Cement Industries, 1901 copyrights expired)

Both William and Liberty Streets ran downhill.  Loose wagons posed a potential problem for the brick façade of the John Wolfe Building.   On February 13, 1901 the City Council gave the John Wolfe estate permission “to erect at its own expense, on the line of the curb on the east side of William street, north of and near Liberty street, two iron posts to protect the John Wolfe Building from damage from vehicles in consequent of the steep incline of William and Liberty streets approaching that point.”  They would be an early example of the protective bollards that sprout throughout the city in front of major buildings today.

In 1904 the Wolfe family offered the building at auction.  The Real Estate Record & Guide noted “This is a very unusual opportunity, as the building is in the midst of the financial district, in one of the choicest business locations in the city.”

At noon on March 30 it was sold to Lorena R. Jones for $325,000 (about $8.75 million today).  The New York Times noted she “is said to have made the purchase in the interest of a syndicate which has also secured options on the remaining parcels in the block.”  If the group of investors intended to demolished the John Wolfe Building in order to erect a massive, block-encompassing structure, it was not to be.

In 1903 the building was still the tallest in the district - King's Photographic Views of New York City (copyright expired)

As a matter of fact, on March 11, 1906 The Times opined “The Wolfe Building…bought at auction by its present owners two years ago for $325,000, is said to be beyond the reach of any scheme for the improvement of the entire block.  Ten [sic] stories in height and built only twelve or fifteen years ago, it falls within the category of those structures which are not modern in the light of present-day standards, yet which are not old enough to be consigned to the scrap heap.”

In 1910 the syndicate of owners was in financial trouble and foreclosure resulted in another auction sale on April 20.  Shocking to the Wolfe family, no doubt, was the headline in The New York Times the following day.  “No Bids for Wolfe Building.”

The property was offered at auction again in May, and again on January 27, 1911.   Surprisingly, the Wolfe heirs purchased the building for $251,000; then resold it within the week to the Liverpool and London and Globe Insurance Company.  “The new owner, it is understood, pays a substantial advance,” said The Times.

The insurance company prepared plans for “extensive improvements” and issued evacuation orders to the tenants.  In October 1911 the firm announced it would take over all 12 floors and “the building will be renamed.”

George H. McFalls was one of the firm’s employees.  The wealthy broker was married with three children and lived in Brooklyn.  A member of the Gravesend Yacht Club, he took his 35-foot cruiser, the Vera onto the Great South Bay off Bellport, Long Island, on August 14, 1912.  With him were his 16-year old daughter Marion, and 4-year old Geraldine.  It was their last day of vacation.

While a few miles offshore from Amityville, the Vera broke down.  After trying for at least an hour to fix the engine, McFalls signaled a passing motorboat for a tow.  The 22-foot launch, the Pan, tossed a line and began towing the craft to land.

George McFalls went back below deck to continue fiddling with the engine.  Marion was standing up watching the approaching shoreline when a sudden jerk on the tow line caused her to lose her balance and fall overboard.  Her father heard her screams and hurriedly launched a small rowboat.  The attention of men in the motorboat was focused ahead and they did not notice the impending tragedy.

As McFalls desperately rowed toward Marion, she sank below the waves twice.  It was impossible to grab her and pull her into the boat, so he jumped into the water.  The Times reported “He reached her as she was sinking again.  She locked her arms about his neck in a death grip, making it almost impossible for him to swim.”

The motorboat had nearly reached shore when its occupants finally heard little Geraldine’s calls.  “Far behind them they saw the empty rowboat and the two figures struggling in the water.”  Although the boaters attempted to return in time to rescue the pair, they were too late.

“They circled round as rapidly as it could be done,” said the newspaper, “but while they were speeding back they saw that the father’s strength was gone, and while they were still a long distance away father and daughter, locked in each other’s arms, disappeared from sight.”

The men attempted to find the bodies for half an hour and finally gave up.  Geraldine’s uncle, S. J. McFalls, came by automobile from Brooklyn to take her home.

As the century progressed and the Wolfe Building was diminished by taller modern skyscrapers, it managed to survive.  The building continued to house insurance and banking offices well into the second half of the century.  Then on April 4, 1973 the massive World Trade Center towers were opened.  The event would signal the end of the line for the John Wolfe Building.

A project to widen the downtown streets to improve traffic flow to the towers meant the demolition of some structures—including the Wolfe Building.  The Landmarks Preservation Commission had been created in 1965; but its focus at the time was on more obvious structures.  Although protests were raised by certain groups and individuals, Hardenbergh’s remarkable Dutch skyscraper was demolished in 1974.

Today the Louise Nevelson Plaza sits on a section of the left-over land.