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Kris
August 23rd, 2003, 08:49 AM
August 24, 2003

Recalling the Days of Knights and Elks

By CHRISTOPHER GRAY

http://graphics7.nytimes.com/images/2003/08/24/realestate/cov.184.1.jpg
The former Pythian Temple on West 70th now houses apartments.

TO many in New York, the former Board of Education headquarters at 110 Livingston Street in Brooklyn is emblematic of a bloated bureaucracy. But to architectural historians, the Italian Renaissance-style building, designed by the renowned firm of McKim, Mead & White, represents a special period of real estate optimism in the 1920's when fraternal lodges thought they could join the building boom and secure their financial futures.

For almost every one of them — the Elks, the Masons, the Knights of Columbus and just about any group with many dues-paying members — the rosy projections ended in less than a generation. But the remnants of their dreams remain part of the city streetscape.

In the case of Lodge 22 of the Benevolent Protective Order of Elks, which built the 13-story 110 Livingston Street in 1928 at Boerum Place, the sojourn in the building lasted less than a decade, until 1936, when the group sold it to New York City for new, centralized Board of Education offices.

For the Masons and their 17-story Level Club, designed in 1926 for a site behind the Ansonia Hotel on West 73rd Street just west of Broadway, the dream lasted four years. The club went into foreclosure in 1930, became a hotel in 1936 and was converted to apartments in the 1980's.

For the Knights of Pythias and its show-stopping 1926 Pythian Temple at 135 West 70th Street — with its colorful midblock facade of movie-set Egyptian forms and seated Pharaonic figures — it lasted until the 1950's, when the building was sold to a school. (It too was converted to apartments in the 80's.)

The seeds for such projects were sown in the 1890's, when the advent of high-rise construction changed the economic landscape for real estate developers, permitting them to use the economics of concentration for both commercial and residential buildings. Other owners gradually followed. High-rise hospitals began appearing around 1900, and a few social clubs and fraternal organizations built tall structures in the 1910's, like the 19- and 20-story lodge and office complex that the Masons built in two parts in 1909 and 1912 at 23rd Street and Sixth Avenue.

But the boom years of the 1920's accelerated the pace of such projects, including some that seemed financially doubtful. One of the first was the Fraternities Club, designed in 1922 and completed in 1924 at the southeast corner of 38th Street and Madison Avenue. An adjunct of the Allerton Hotel chain, the 38th Street building was put up for members of college Greek-letter organizations.

Designed by Murgatroyd & Ogden in a medieval Italian style, the 17-story building had meeting rooms for 16 college fraternities, like Delta Phi and Kappa Alpha, along with 560 guest rooms. In effect, it was really a very specialized hotel. The Cornell Club, a tenant, had an expansive set of rooms on the 12th and 13th floors, with a double-height lounge and murals of the Ithaca, N.Y., landscape.

The Clergy Club was also a tenant. Thus, in 1930 some of the most prominent ministers in the city were embarrassed — or perhaps only inconvenienced — to find that prohibition agents had masqueraded as college men for several weeks and then conducted a raid at the building. They confiscated 101 bottles of liquor, with a result that the entire building was threatened with closure, although it is not clear whether that happened.

In 1923, 42 Manhattan and Bronx councils of the Knights of Columbus — the fraternal order for Roman Catholic men — began raising $3 million for a 15-story building; it was completed in 1927 at the southeast corner of Eighth Avenue and 51st Street. Designed by Edward F. Fanning, the building had an auditorium for 1,800, council rooms, restaurants and athletic facilities like a running track atop the building.

Cardinal Patrick Hayes blessed the cornerstone in 1925, when 10,000 members, most wearing straw hats, blue serge coats and white flannel trousers, paraded from 76th Street and Central Park West to the site. The finished building had the names of Marquette, La Salle, Columbus and other Catholics important in the history of the country inscribed on its facade.

The Knights of Columbus in Brooklyn laid the cornerstone for its nine-story building at 1 Prospect Park West, and the structure was completed in 1925. The New York Times reported that Mayor John F. Hylan praised the Knights for "fostering that natural impulse toward good citizenship, which is so sorely tried by the distractions and temptations that beset our young people."

The group borrowed $750,000 against the $1.2 million cost, but the Knights were building not just for their own use but also for income. The magazine Architecture and Building wrote in 1925 that the banquet hall, 198 rooms (at $35 per month) and the 2,000-seat auditorium were intended to be used by outside parties, which would generate rental income.

The same economic optimism was in play with the Level Club on West 73rd. Founded in 1919 by a few Masons, the Level Club had been doing fine in a small building on St. Nicholas Avenue. The budget was increased to $3 million from $1.7 million before ground was broken. Apparently, the prospect of the country's Masons staying in the 350 bedrooms seemed persuasive, along with a projected future New York membership of 5,000.

Designed by Clinton & Russell/Wells, Holton & George, the Romanesque-style facade spills down a waterfall of dramatic setbacks, with picturesque towers rising up like boulders in a stream.

The 28-foot-high lobby was movie-theater baroque, with heavily colored and richly veined marble, and huge trusses supported the upper floors above the auditorium on the fourth and fifth floors. The Knights of Columbus buildings were tepid works, with little more character than a typical speculative project, but the Levelers built one of New York's most dramatic midblock structures.

In 1927, Lodge 22 of the Brooklyn Elks began its own ambitious 13-story headquarters at Livingston Street and Boerum Place in Brooklyn, issuing $2.9 million in bonds. McKim, Mead & White designed a mild Italian Renaissance-style structure, solid but with little drama, except for the head and shoulders of an elk in bronze set into a cartouche over the main doorway.

In 1929, a developer, Abraham H. Spiegelgas, who had lost heavily in the stock market, took one of its 250 rooms just before he was due in court to answer charges of misappropriation of funds. He killed himself in Room 725. The Times noted that he had left an apology to the Elks, and the context implies he was not actually a member, suggesting that the lodge may have been renting its rooms to the public.

Another lodge building begun in 1926, the $2 million Pythian Temple on West 70th Street, was for the local chapter of the Knights of Pythias, a fraternal order founded in 1864. The theater designer Thomas Lamb created a midblock facade of movie-set Egyptian forms, seated Pharaonic figures, polychrome columns and a setback arrangement similar to that of the Level Club. Inside, there were 13 lodge rooms and an auditorium decorated in a striking Egyptian manner.

A news report on a 1928 dinner by a group called the Women's 13 Club — with smashed mirrors, spilled salt and black cats — suggests that the Pythians also found it necessary to venture beyond the fraternal bonds for rental income, and by the 1930's they were certainly leasing the auditorium for religious and political meetings.

Other nonfraternal organizations also joined the 1920's rush to build up. The venerable New York Athletic Club built its reserved clubhouse on Central Park South and Seventh Avenue in 1928. The Explorers Club, founded in 1904, built an eight-story clubhouse at 544 West 110th Street in 1928. And the Downtown Athletic Club, a businessmen's organization founded only in 1926, built a 38-story Art Deco building at 19 West Street with 143 rooms for its 3,826 members in 1930.

The crash of 1929 was tough on discretionary real estate like club facilities, but even before the crash there had been signs that this kind of improvement was hyperinflated. In April 1929, the Knights of Columbus in Manhattan denied to The Times that the Eighth Avenue clubhouse was for sale — only to announce in the fall that they had reached a deal to radically alter their auditorium into a bus terminal. By the late 1930's the Knights were holding on to a few rooms, but most of the building was owned by a hotel operator.

In 1930, the Level Club went into foreclosure — only the first installment on its $2.2 million mortgage had been paid, in 1928, indicating that it was in trouble right from the beginning. In 1936, it became a conventional hotel.

The Fraternities Club on Madison Avenue was turned into a businessmen's hotel in 1931. The fraternities, evicted, said they were going to build their own structure, but no such project went ahead.

In Brooklyn, the Elks began to miss payments on their bonds, and bondholders pressed for their money in 1932. The Elks hung on until 1936, when the city bought the building for new, centralized offices for the Board of Education, at that time with 2,400 employees spread around four offices.

The sale angered the committee of bondholders — who got only 10 cents on the dollar. And the move was not without conflict at the Board of Estimate, whose approval was required. At the last minute the borough presidents of the Bronx, Queens and Manhattan temporarily blocked the move, apparently miffed that Brooklyn was getting such a prize.

But Henry Turner, president of the Board of Education, noted that Brooklyn had 40 percent of the city's school population and that the move would be "a direct contribution toward the increase in efficiency in administering the affairs of the school system by bringing under one roof its presently scattered bureaus."

The city bought the building for $955,000, less than a third of its cost only eight years before, and even then half of the purchase price was simply the payment of a bill for back taxes. In 1937, a final sale of the Elks furnishings cleared the building, and in 1939 the architects Schultze & Weaver made sweeping alterations, erasing most of the Elks' majesty in favor of office space.

THE Knights of Columbus in Brooklyn remained in place until foreclosure in 1948, and the Pythians held on to their Egyptian-style building until 1958, when it was sold to a school, the New York Institute of Technology — although the Pythians had already been renting out its biggest auditorium to Decca Records for several years.

The nonfraternal high-rise builders had a better track record after the crash. The Explorers Club lost its clubhouse on 110th Street in 1932, but the Downtown Athletic Club held on to its building until two years ago, despite some very rocky years in between. And the New York Athletic Club still has its Central Park South headquarters.

It may have been that the Knights of Columbus, the Pythians, the Elks and others were hampered by their very fraternal character. In 1931, Dr. F. W. Mueller of the Methodist Episcopal Church told The Times that the age of high-rise churches was also over. He said that the principal problem was that the churches were at a disadvantage compared with typical property owners, their ostensibly nonprofit character leading to a "difficulty in collecting rents." The fraternal vows expressed in the lodge and council rooms may have compromised the hard-nosed financial dealings needed in the new world of the 1930's.

In a new century, the fraternal high-rises have settled into the cityscape. The Knights of Columbus building in Brooklyn, now the Castle at Prospect Park, a residence for the elderly, is hardly discernible as anything more than another 1920's building. Its sibling building, on grimy Eighth Avenue, looks like a fringe-area hotel, although out-of-town guests must sometimes wonder about the memorial inscriptions on the facade.

The Level Club and the Pythian Temple are still striking enough to cause people to stop and stare, but both were converted into apartments in the 1980's. They lost most of their surviving grand interiors, and the blank facades and giant cross-trusses through the middle of the buildings posed particular problems in the conversions.

As for 110 Livingston Street, it has been routinely showered with epithets that go far beyond any architectural vices or virtues of the old Elks building. Indeed, its address is far more widely known than the building itself, which has the silent gravitas of a Federal Reserve Bank.

According to Jerry Russo, a spokesman for what is now the Department of Education, the 800 employees from 110 Livingston Street are being transferred to the restored Tweed Courthouse, right behind City Hall, and 65 Court Street in Brooklyn. Earlier this year, the city sold 110 Livingston for $45 million to a developer, David Walentas, who plans a 245-unit condominium conversion. Passers-by can see the old "BPOE" monogram in the ironwork, which was deftly converted to "BOE" in the 1930's.

The Masons, Elks and other groups have generally forgotten their real estate flings of the Roaring Twenties. Elks Lodge 22 now meets periodically in a rented storefront at 7210 New Utrecht Avenue in Brooklyn usually invisible behind a heavy roll-down gate. When they left 110 Livingston Street, the Elks — or someone — removed the bronze figure of an elk from the cartouche over the doorway; it was replaced with an appropriately educational relief of an open book over a lighted torch.

The whereabouts of the original bronze is unknown, but it is not visible on Lodge 22's current headquarters. However, over the storefront is a brightly colored sign, with a fair rendering of an elk — in paint. *

http://graphics7.nytimes.com/images/2003/08/24/realestate/cov.184.2.jpg
A detail of the Level Club, built by Masons, on West 73rd; the building is now apartments.

Copyright 2003 The New York Times Company

Edward
August 23rd, 2003, 10:51 PM
The Pythian (http://www.wirednewyork.com/pythian.htm)

http://www.wirednewyork.com/images/pythian.jpg (http://www.wirednewyork.com/pythian.htm)

brianac
February 5th, 2008, 05:17 AM
Upper West Side's Level Club: Where residents don't want to leave

Friday, January 25th 2008, 3:45 PM

http://www.nydailynews.com/img/2008/01/25/alg_level-club.jpg Joyce for News
Larry Schier's living room boasts rounded windows.

http://www.nydailynews.com/img/2008/01/25/amd_level-exterior.jpg F. Roberts for News
The facade of the Level Club

http://www.nydailynews.com/img/2008/01/25/amd_schier.jpg Joyce for News
Larry Schier was Level Club's first buyer.

Filled with nooks and crannies and ancient symbols carved into the building's exterior façade and interior hallways, The Level Club at 253 W. 73rd St. could be Manhattan's most mystical and intriguing condominium.

It also could be its most beloved. Instead of moving from their 1925 building (constructed by the Masons as a clubhouse), today's residents combine apartments and trade up for bigger units. One bought an adjacent apartment site-unseen. Bruno Bertuccioli, a tenant since the 1980s, fell so hard for the building he spent years writing a book detailing its history.

"This structure is the only true-to-size rendering of King Solomon's Temple that exists in the world today," says Bertuccioli, an Italian-born engineer who writes for a hobby. "Hardly anyone in New York knows this building is here. It's an incredible achievement."

As soon as buyers discover the historic building, often overshadowed by the neighboring Ansonia, one of New York's most famous residences, they rush to buy and plan to stay.

"I tell people I am dying here," says Liz Hartman Musiker, author of "The Smart Girl's Guide to Sports," who with her husband, Bob, recently sold their suburban home for a two-bedroom loft duplex with 18-foot ceilings on the second floor. "We got rid of all our furniture to start fresh here. It makes that much of an impression."

No one, however, loves the building more than Larry Schier. The unofficial mayor of the building, Schier was the first person to buy an apartment in the Level Club when it converted to condominiums in 1984.

"They hadn't sold anything yet, so they let me see all the apartments," says Schier, who had heard about it the way most people do, from a friend. "I started in the penthouse and ran down all the stairs looking at every apartment in the building. I chose a one-bedroom on the old auditorium floor because of the huge, rounded windows."

Seeing every apartment in the building was a good omen for Schier. After a successful career working in a family clothing business, he began selling real estate, becoming one of the Corcoran Group's top salespeople. He ranked No. 1 in their West Side Gallery office for eight years straight. Now a senior vice president, Schier has completed more than 70 deals in the Level Club since 2001.

Rocky Avgustini, the Level Club's ex-super, who eventually bought his apartment in the building from Schier, suggested he go into real estate.

"Rocky said I would be good because I live here, I know everything about the building, and I love people," says Schier, who estimates that only 15% of his current sales revenue comes from the Level Club. "I made a sale my first day at Corcoran. It was like I tasted success, the art of the deal. The money, too. It was such a rush."

Schier has since combined apartments to create one of the most majestic and well-designed living spaces in all New York. It's a selling tool for home hunters he brings to see the units for sale.

"It takes a certain kind of buyer with creativity to feel comfortable in this building," says Schier. "Every apartment is different. The shapes are different, some have less light but also less noise. Other apartments have a weird corner alcove or oddly shaped windows. I show them mine so they can see what is possible."

Schier's 2,800-square-foot two-bedroom is an open living area with three 12-foot rounded windows overlooking a row of historic townhouses on 73rd St.

There are seven levels in his apartment alone, with an office area and guest bedroom looking down to the naturally lit living area and marble-coated entrance.

A wooden floating staircase leads from the master bedroom to another office area. A chandelier with glass found in a Roman palace is an apartment centerpiece. There are three flat screens in the master bathroom adjacent to the large tub. Lex Luthor couldn't live better if he tried.

When Schier walks the hallways of the building, neighbors greet him with hugs. He likes everyone who has bought here, he says, and it's likely he showed them the building.

On the sixth floor, by an old fireplace in the hallway where the Masons built a smoking lounge, Schier runs into Geoffrey Day, who just renovated a two-bedroom. A Scotsman, Day runs public relations for Mercedes- Benz. Day looked for an apartment for three months before buying his Level Club home in one day.

"Everything else we saw just seemed so cookie-cutter and normal," says Day, who found the building when he walked by and was directed to Schier by the doorman. "It has so many twists and turns. The people are unique as well.

My neighbor could be Borat's mother. All she ever says is, 'It's very nice.'"

So what is it about this pocket of New York living that makes people buy fast and stay long? Some cite the symbolism on the 18-story building or the layouts of the 160 apartments, each one different. Even the hallways have different shapes. One floor has a hidden apartment behind a stairwell. Some units have outdoor space. One buyer found a window behind a Sheetrock wall.

Renowned for brickwork and stone carving, the Masons built this structure for entertainment activities. The name "Level" comes from leveler, a nickname for Masons, who founded their organization to improve man's behavior through integrity and sound living. Masonic symbols such as the Star of David, the all-seeing eye, an hourglass, a level, a beehive and the Bible are carved in stone in repetition all over the building. Two pillars topped by globes that represent the "strength of God's will" stand directly above the building entrance.

Originally, the building had a swimming pool, bowling alley, 4,000-seat auditorium, dining halls, gymnasium, racquetball courts, a club floor, billiards room and rooftop gardens. Those are gone now, but the exterior is perfectly preserved. The building was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1984.

In some ways, the structure's history mirrors that of the upper West Side. In the Depression, the Masons were forced to sell their clubhouse after just two years. The Level Club was converted into a weekly hotel for men in the 1930s and then a kosher hotel in the 1940s and 1950s.

In the 1960s, it struggled as a single-room-occupancy hotel. In the 1970s, when the streets around 72nd and Broadway were a frequent hangout for prostitutes, alcoholics and drug addicts, a substance-abuse center known as Phoenix House took it over.

Selling the building for $9 million, Phoenix House used the funds to establish three centers in the tristate area. The developers of Level Club began turning its large common areas into odd-shaped apartments. It attracted buyers quickly.

"Our first apartment here looked out on a gargoyle," says Jane Schwartz, who initially bought her daughter an apartment in the building before buying a one-bedroom and then the adjacent two-bedroom. "The entire story of the building just took us in."

A 1,001-square-foot one-bedroom is on the market for $1,195,000. One-bedrooms rent for slightly shy of $4,000 and studios rent for $2,250.

Schier can be picky when he shows the building to prospective buyers. When he holds open houses at other locations, he gauges the boredom level that home hunters have for "normal" apartments.

"I can always tell if someone is right for the building," says Schier. "They don't like regular layouts and they have a good imagination. With some people, I can tell right away. It's those people who buy in a day."

Copyright 2008 The Daily News

stache
February 5th, 2008, 08:44 AM
There's also a small former Knights of Pythias building on the west side of Fifth Ave. in Flatiron. It was purchased by the Association of Interior Designers about ten years ago.

lofter1
February 5th, 2008, 05:04 PM
Just yesteday I was digging around, doing some research (http://infamousnewyorkrealestate.blogspot.com/2006/03/218-lafayette-street.html) on buildings in my neighborhood, and came across some info on the site of original Elks meeting spot in NYC -- down at the edge of what is now SoHo & Little Italy on Lafayette at Broome (then 188 ELM Street) ...

Infamous New York Real Estate (http://infamousnewyorkrealestate.blogspot.com/)

218 Lafayette Street

Thursday, March 09, 2006

In 1868, when this sleepy tumble-down thoroughfare was still called ELM STREET, a group of actors fond of drinking founded a fraternal order - - The Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks - - in a cheap boarding house at 188 Elm Street at the NW corner of what is now the intersection of Broome and Lafayette Streets. The club, chartered to give them generous drinking privileges, was named for an animal considered to be gregarious, gentle, and strong.

• • For years this was a patchwork precinct filled with cheap lodgings and real estate risks. For decades, the Board of Aldermen debated the demerits of Elm Street [which ambled from busy City Hall Place up to the far loftier Lafayette Place], and then spent ten years widening it and disrupting it with subway construction, pinching feet and inches away from property owners as the city planners constructed a wider LAFAYETTE STREET to relieve the excessive traffic on Broadway. Consequently, few buildings were being built on Elm Street for fear NYC would nab the sidewalk and slice it away from an owner's shrinking lot size.

• • As Elm Street became Lafayette Street, the imperfectly widened byway left behind many oddly proportioned ugly parcels known as "gore lots." Italian immigrants settled there when a mini building boom began in 1909.

• • Though Daniel Brady's family owned land on Elm Street from 1862, they never "improved" it. In September 1909 the first building on 218 Lafayette Street took shape when Michele Briganti put a 6-story store and loft building on Brady's 25' x 100' lot. His architect was Charles M. Straub.

• • Italian names dominated this unprepossessing stretch of Lafayette between Spring and Broome Street years before John A. Zaccaro took over this building and its adjoining property in 1981. And real estate owners were tenacious - - largely because no one wanted to buy these booby prizes. As a result, 218 Lafayette remained in one family's hands from 1862-1942.

• • Several petty criminals resided at this address over the years and no businesses seemed to thrive - - not even the bootleggers who ran a speakeasy disguised as a trattoria called Monte Rosa. One notable who lived here was Angelo M. Rizzo [1848-1924], who arrived in 1874 as a poor Italian laborer and got a job lighting lamps around town. Later, as a contractor, Rizzo got the job of installing gas lamps throughout New York City. Active in politics and a benefactor of immigrants in the Fourteenth Ward, Rizzo was horrified when Joseph Petrosino, Chief of the Italian Bureau of the New York Detectives, was murdered in Sicily [March 1909]. Rizzo paid his respects to the Petrosino family who resided across the street (at 233 Lafayette Street).

• • By 1959, no one lived here. The tenement was converted to offices and light manufacturing.

• • By 1966, the city condemned the property and slated it (along with surrounding structures) for "urban renewal."

• • Despite that, in 1981 when NYC had gone bankrupt, Philip Zaccaro and his 48-year-old son John acquired it intact and began advertising a "Vacant SoHo Building" (5 stories + basement) with a cast-iron facade for sale. There were no takers.

• • In 1984 Geraldine Ferraro's vice presidential quest brought new scrutiny to her husband's real estate empire headquartered at 216-218 Lafayette St. Though Geraldine relinquished her White House dreams before the newspapers FULLY disclosed Zaccaro's ties to Gambino crime boss Aniello Dellacroce as well as "D.B." [child-pornography king Robert DiBernardo, the president of Star Distributors] who ruled an empire of X-rated slime from two Zaccaro-owned buildings along Lafayette St. - - until John Gotti shot him in 1986 - - John Zaccaro was indicted and pled guilty in January 1985. Ferraro's campaign sank faster than the Titanic.

• • Big Apple Tour Guide Alert! Infamous "D.B." (played by actor Frank Vincent) co-starred in HBO movie "Gotti" aired August 1996.

• • Unable to rent his groundfloor, Zaccaro gave favorable terms to a chef with French bistro dreams who opened L' Aubiniere at 218 Lafayette Street in 1991. Few customers came and the restaurant closed but Zaccaro decided to build an eatery his son would run and he partnered with a popular chef with a following, Tom Valenti. Rated two stars, Cascabel filled its 120 seats from 1993-1998 - - but when Valenti exited, so did the crowds.

• • In 1998 Frank Giovanetti installed Oona there. Ruth Riechl upbraided the kitchen for its lack of adventure, very few diners were lured there, and Oona tanked in August 1999. He got the message: nothing lives here.

• • Dorrian's Red Hand is the Upper East Side ginmill where pretty Jennifer Levin rendez-voused with Robert Chambers, who choked her in Central Park one summer night in 1986.

• • Dorrians go downtown. The Dorrians, a controversial New York pub family, took over the struggling street-level space and opened The Falls. According to news reports, owners Michael and Danny Dorrian are the grandsons of John "Red" Dorrian, a one-time IRA gunman who came here in 1921, penniless and with a price on his head. Red worked as a bootlegger in Midtown speakeasies - - where his patrons included columnist Walter Winchell and the womanizing "Night Mayor" Jimmy Walker.

• • • Enter an ELK: gregarious, gentle, and strong-minded Imette St. G. • • •

• • After 4AM Saturday, 25 February 2006, 24-year-old John Jay College of Criminal Justice graduate student Imette St. Guillen (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/11698982/) was kidnapped, assaulted, and brutally murdered after leaving The Falls Bar. That night at 8:43PM an anonymous male, calling from a free payphone near a Brooklyn diner, directed police to her tortured, nude body, dumped about 15 miles away from 218 Lafayette Street.

• • Suspected is a 200-lb African-American convict, who was violating parole by working as a bouncer here. For he's a jolly good felon . . . Hiring inmates with aliases: is this a trend? Or is it just a preference for these working-off-the-books types copied from East Village eateries?

• • State Liquor Authority: another round?

• • A State Supreme Court Judge who writes thrillers and reads this blog said Zaccaro is in deep doo-doo as well. Stay tuned.

Source: http://infamousnewyorkrealestate.blogspot.com/atom.xml

***

http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2862/372/400/The_Falls_218_Lafayette_St_Street_Map.jpg

NOTE: Info on the Imette St. Guillen case (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imette_St._Guillen), including update on the legal procedings regarding the man who was the bouncer at The Falls the night Imette was killed and who is also the murder suspect: Darryl Littlejohn

The Latest news on the case, from yesterday (Feb. 4, 2008):

Imette’s mom files $200m suit vs. Feds (http://news.bostonherald.com/news/regional/general/view.bg?articleid=1071091)

The Brookline mother of slain graduate student Imette St. Guillen has brought a $200 million lawsuit against the federal government, blaming its failure to keep tabs on the twisted con who allegedly raped and killed her daughter for the “conscience-shocking injuries” she suffered in the throes of death.

The civil action was filed last Thursday in U.S. District Court in Brooklyn, N.Y., by a Madison Avenue attorney representing Maureen St. Guillen, 61 ...

***

UrbanSculptures
February 5th, 2008, 09:08 PM
Good find!
You know, I've run into the Christopher Gray guy on an email list group in the past, he is probably the most arrogant sarcastic SOB I can think of, he would "reply" to new subscriber's questions with the utmost of sarcasm, ridicule and obnoxiousness, to the point where quite a few people quit the list or never posted again and that includes myself after he kept ranting on basically driving new people away and attacking others.

The only reason they seemed to put up with him was his database. I once posted an offer to help as I could with his building history database as a volunteer to enter the records or something, and his one line respons was "nope", not "thanks for the offer but.." or anything of that sort, just "nope"
I posted once about a tenement and it's ornaments and his reply to the list was nothing less than slamming the architect as a cheap building designer who built crappy buildings, and so on.

He has a good column but I can't stand his person.

LeCom
February 9th, 2008, 04:21 PM
Heh, frat houses for people post college age.

Jasonik
January 15th, 2009, 12:41 PM
STREETSCAPES
By CHRISTOPHER GRAY
Published: October 3, 2004 (http://www.nytimes.com/2004/10/03/realestate/03SCAP.html?_r=1)

http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2004/10/03/realestate/brooklyn.temple.450.jpg
Office for Metropolitan History
A PLACE TO MEET: The Brooklyn Masonic Temple, at Clermont and Lafayette Avenues
in Fort Greene, in 1909. In 1912, 35 lodges were sharing the building.

Marble and Terra Cotta

Q The Brooklyn Masonic Temple, at 317 Clermont Avenue in Fort Greene, was designed by my great-grandfather, James Monroe Hewlett. I'd like to get some more insight into the type of design used here and any particularly interesting history. . . . Chuck Newman, Essex Fells, N.J.


A The Masons of Brooklyn had been looking for a common meeting place for several years when, in 1909, they built their impressive hall at the northwest corner of Clermont and Lafayette Avenues, with lodge rooms and an auditorium seating 1,000. Interior plans show a quadruple-height auditorium on the ground floor, twin triple-height lodge rooms on the next full level and a single, full-floor double-height lodge room above.

Thirty-five lodges were sharing the building in 1912. Architectural journals co-credit Lord & Hewlett and Pell & Corbett as the architects.

Nearly cubic, and roughly 100 feet on a side, the temple is marble, rough-textured brick and glazed terra cotta. The horizontals of the base and upper section contain the verticality of the middle section, a screen of pilasters and engaged columns. Architectural critics gave the temple rave reviews — but it does not, at first glance, look that spectacular.

So what is so great about this building?

Hewlett and his partners rethought several accepted practices, like the glazed terra cotta columns. To reduce the number of joints, architects tend to make columns out of the largest pieces possible. But terra cotta shrinks during the firing process, and the larger the mold, the harder it is to produce pieces close to specification, and the more prominent the joining.

With the Brooklyn Masonic Temple, the architects went in the counterintuitive direction, firing not three or four large sections per column, but about 50 much smaller elements. The resulting joints are so numerous they become part of the design, rather than merely interruptions.

The architects also used color with sophistication. The nearly monochrome shade of the marble base gradually evolves to a festive splash of sienna, green, yellow, cream and blue at the cornice and frieze. The cream-colored column drums were fired with a slight amber tone in the fluting, emphasizing the natural shading in the recessed grooves, and adding a color accent.

The designers also reconsidered normal bricklaying practices. Instead of the usual course-on-course brickwork for the wall surfaces, they produced oversized brick units by stacking the bricks in pairs, with dark mortar between the paired units. The design gives a massiveness that a traditional one could not.

Although the glazed terra cotta was considered nearly self-cleaning, today the Brooklyn Masonic Temple has lost much of its punch. Although the Masons have kept the brick, terra cotta and even roof cresting intact, soil has collected all over the terra cotta, substantially dimming its original brilliance.

Some buildings do not benefit from cleaning, and this might be one of those. But in the temple's present condition, the original design can only be imagined.

*****

More of wallyg (http://flickr.com/photos/wallyg/)'s photos of the Brooklyn Masonic Temple here (http://flickr.com/photos/wallyg/tags/brookylnmasonictemple/show/).

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3129/2603237925_16f6296e3c_b.jpg

BrooklynRider
January 15th, 2009, 11:54 PM
Masonic Temples tend to be rather creep looking places.

Jasonik
June 26th, 2009, 06:42 PM
An Improbable Cradle of Rock Music

http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2009/06/21/realestate/21scapespan.jpg
The Pythian Temple, now shrouded for renovations, in 1928 and 2003.
Photo gallery here (http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2009/06/18/realestate/0621-scapes-slideshow_index.html).

By CHRISTOPHER GRAY
Published: June 18, 2009 (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/21/realestate/21scapes.html?_r=1)

NOW it is cloaked in white netting, its movie-set facade as secret as the fraternal society that built it in 1927. But later this summer the ghostly renovation wrapping will come off the spectacular Pythian Temple, at 135 West 70th Street, one of the greatest productions by the theater architect Thomas Lamb.

The Knights of Pythias was founded in 1864, taking the name from the legendary friendship of Damon and Pythias.

Fraternal orders flourished after the Civil War, and by the 1910s and ’20s, the Elks, the Knights of Columbus, the Masons and other organizations felt the need for huge lodges, sometimes with hotel rooms. One of these is the Level Club (http://www.corcoran.com/property/levelclub/index.asp?history.asp) of the Masons, on 73rd Street west of Broadway, Romanesque in style with a cascade of setbacks, completed in 1927.

The Pythians completed their high-rise house that same year. About 150 feet tall, it was built mostly in buff brick and terra cotta. Sprinkled over the surface is some of the most brilliant polychrome terra cotta in New York, but because it is hidden away on a narrow side street, many veteran New Yorkers have never seen it.

The Pythians had an eye for drama, and hired Lamb, a Scottish-born specialist in magnificent movie palaces. The architect created a blockbuster synthesis of Egyptian, Babylonian and Assyrian motifs evoking the grandeur of D. W. Griffith’s Babylonian movie set for his 1916 “Intolerance.”

Lamb’s $2 million center, to be shared by the 120 smaller lodges in the city, had 13 lodge rooms, a gym on the roof and bowling and billiards in the basement. Lamb was fortunate that the lodge rooms did not require windows, and the plain walls gave his structure a brute strength rare in architecture.

The Pythian Temple’s ground-floor colonnade, with Assyrian-type heads, is centered on a brilliantly glazed blue terra-cotta entry pavilion. The windowless middle section steps back at about 100 feet up, with four seated Pharaonic figures similar to those of Ramses II at Abu Simbel. Two more setbacks rise to a highly colored Egyptian-style colonnade, and to giant urns carried by teams of yellow, red and green oxen. In a rendering, the urns are lighted with fires.

Published photographs of the lobby show a double-height space in what appears to be polished black marble, with Egyptian decor, like a winged orb, or perhaps Isis, over the doorway.

Various organizations rented space at the temple, including, in 1928, the Women’s 13 Club, whose dinner there featured spilled salt, smashed mirrors and ladders to walk under.

In 1930, the Level Club went into foreclosure, but the Pythian Temple had a more solid foundation. Indeed, in 1932 The New York Times reported that the trustees planned to turn over the operating profits to unemployment relief. That doesn’t quite square with a 1940 tax exemption case in New York State Supreme Court, which found that the temple had had no net income since the day it opened. The clubhouse was then valued at $625,000.

Nevertheless, the Pythians somehow hung on, renting space to Decca Records. In 1954, Bill Haley and His Comets recorded “Rock Around the Clock” there, and Buddy Holly, Sammy Davis Jr., Billie Holiday and others are also said to have used the studio.

In November 1956, the singer and actor Paul Robeson spoke at the temple at a meeting of the National Council of the American-Soviet Friendship Association, and according to The Times “hailed the achievements of the Soviet Union.” He and others leaving the building, including clueless Pythians, were bombarded with eggs, tomatoes and other missiles by protesters incensed by the brutal Communist suppression of the Hungarian revolt only days before.

The Pythians departed in 1958, leaving behind halberds, staffs, magic wands, coffins with skeletons, lanterns, thrones and Egyptian garb, The Times reported. The grand structure was bought by the New York Institute of Technology.

In the early 1980s, the architect David Gura oversaw a radical conversion of the Pythian Temple into apartments, a devilishly complicated alteration because of large beams, the windowless facade, and double-height lodge and other rooms. He inserted banks of windows into the facade as gently as possible, and added greenhouse-type structures on the upper terraces.

The white netting, put up for a facade restoration project by Luke LiCalzi Engineers, should come down by the end of July. Then, the Pythian Temple will rock the block again.