Hidden away in the Lower East side of New York City is a mile-long street infamously known as the Bowery. The Bowery is one of the oldest streets in New York, with a history dating back long before colonization. But the Bowery is not just a street or a neighbourhood but a slice of New York’s historical essence. Back then, the Bowery was the epicentre of crime and debauchery. The streets were ripe with old-time salons, run-down theatres, ghastly dime museums, raucous billiard parlours, lascivious dance halls, and bawdy brothels. It was such a frenzied place that Bowery Street was nicknamed Satan’s Highway. While many of these historic places have been abandoned or shuttered for years, the intriguing stories from the ol’ Bowery remain. Stories we will discover along this Walking Tour of the Bowery.
Because of its age and relatively slow progress towards revitalization, the Bowery is home to the city’s most diverse collection of architectural streetscapes. You can see building styles from Georgian, Federal, Greek Revival, Italianate, Victorian, Neo Grec, Queen Anne, Beaux Arts, and Art Deco all in one place! So if you’re a history, crime or architecture buff, this Walking Tour of the Bowery is just for you! The ghosts we will discuss along the way are not just paranormal but also the memories of the rich past found along Satan’s Highway. So come with us as we discover the secrets hidden along the Bowery.
This Walking Tour of the Bowery will take about two hours to walk at a leisurely pace. We will be covering just over 1.6 miles throughout the tour. Be sure to wear really comfortable walking shoes. Throughout the tour we will talk about the history of the neighbourhood, the ghosts which haunt the streets and the many stories that make this district a rich tapestry of cultures and curiosities. The ghoulish nature of the tour makes it a great one to take during the spooky Halloween season!
Although the Bowery has changed a lot over the past 20 years, the area is still one I would advise avoiding late at night. The best time to do this tour is in the late afternoon and early evening before everything gets too dark.
One thing that makes the Bowery such a captivating place to visit is that this one long stretch of roadway seems to encapsulate everything that is so iconic about New York City. The Bowery boasts historic architecture, fierce stories of the criminal underbelly, upscale hotels, and tales of the ghosts that haunt part of town. While the Bowery was once Hell’s Highway, today is a sophisticated neighbourhood popular with hipsters. But it hasn’t yet lost all of its gritty charm and historical destinations.
The boundaries of the Bowery start at Astor Place and extend south to Chatham Square. The road stretches across the Lower East Side, through Chinatown, the East Village and Little Italy. But long before European colonizers arrived on these shores, the Bowery was a simple dirt pathway. The lane was created by the indigenous Lenape people who initially settled here. The Lenape carved out the road to better provide access for their people to the fishing posts along the East River.
After the Dutch invaded, they stole the land from the Lenape people but kept the roadway as it proved extremely useful. The Dutch renamed the street; Bowery Lane. The word “Bowery“ comes from the Dutch word bouwerie, which meant “farm.” In the neighbourhood’s early days of Dutch colonization, they plotted farmland adjacent to Bowery Lane. This allowed farmers to transport their goods easily out of town as well as bring in much-needed supplies.
When the Dutch arrived, they came with kidnapped and enslaved men and women from Africa. The Dutch West India Company was, in fact, the first country to start the African slave trade. But in 1645, the same company that tore Africans from their homeland granted them parcels of land in the Bowery. They also named them “freed enslaved peoples.”
But it wasn’t out of guilt or a sense of morality that they did this. The Dutch hoped that the freed enslaved people would help tame the wilderness around Bowery Lane. Not only this, but they hoped they would build houses that would act as a barrier along the East River. The Dutch were afraid of an uprising from the Indigenous people or an invasion from the British and were using these homes as their first line of defence. But, no matter the reasoning, this move resulted in the Bowery becoming home to the first African-American neighbourhood in America.
As the population grew around the Bowery, the rural farmland transformed into the beginnings of a small urban village. Public slaughterhouses were the first major businesses to call the neighbourhood home. The land towards the southern tip of the Bowery held the Collect Pond. This huge water source spread across 48 acres and was the primary source of fresh water for this part of the city. The slaughterhouses took advantage of this access as a means to drain off their stinking waste. Slowly poisoning the water for the residents. It was only a matter of time before what was once a charming water feature became a foul-smelling pit. With no choice but to drain the pond, the slaughterhouses and butchers had to move further west into what is now the Meat Packing District.
With the pond drained, and the land on which it once stood filled, the Bowery’s population was not only expanding but changing. The northern parts of the district began to change. What was once primarily a lower-class neighbourhood became land for the aristocracy. The elite of New York were after large plots of land where they could build expansive mansions and lavish apartments. The narrow Bowery lane was widened into a broad avenue to service these new upper-class establishments. Elegant buildings started to pop up on either side of the street. Many thought this was the Bowery’s boom era and the street would go onto rival Fifth Avenue. Alas, this was not to be the path forward for the Bowery.
The fate of the Bowery changed with the construction of the El Train or the Elevated Railway. With a city like New York facing such rapid expansion, transit became one of the most important pieces of infrastructure to tackle. Immigrants lived in the city’s outer edges, like the Bowery. But, for work, they needed to travel far to the centre of Manhattan. Horse-drawn rail cars could only carry so many people. And the new invention of the omnibus was taking up precious space on what were now crowded roadways. So the idea was to take transit off the streets and raise it above. Onto elevated rails.
Railroad tracks were built above the streets, and one of the first lines to be built was the Third Avenue Elevated Rail in 1878. This rail line ran almost the entire length of the Bowery. And while access to transit sounds like a good idea for an up-and-coming neighbourhood, it became the catalyst for the Bowery’s descent into debauchery.
The dark iron rails that held the tracks essentially cut out the sun. Making the underbelly of the El tracks a good spot for shadowy deeds to take place. The middle-class businesses starting to populate the streets suddenly found themselves under a constant barrage of soot and grease from the trains above. No woman on her way to the dressmaker wanted to find herself covered in grease upon exiting the building. Not to mention the noise. All the upper-class customers fled, forcing the only decent businesses left on the Bowery to close.
Property values were in the toilet! But with so many vacant buildings, low-class establishments took this as their opportunity to move in. Brothels, gambling halls, theatres, wild concert venues, beer gardens, pawn shops, and flophouses all started to call the Bowery home. No longer was the character of the street that of a district on the rise. Instead, gangs ruled the streets and the slums crept into the once well-to-do buildings. Prostitution, alcoholism and homelessness were rampant problems across the Bowery. And the streets were undoubtedly one of the most dangerous places to find yourself in New York City in the 19th century.
Theodore Roosevelt visited the area in 1913. After his visit, he stated; “The Bowery is one of the great highways of humanity, a highway of seething life, of varied interest, of fun, of work, of sordid and terrible tragedy; and it is haunted by demons as evil as any that stalk through the pages of the “Inferno.” This quote would lend itself to Bowery getting the nickname “Hell’s Gate.“
The Bowery remained New York City’s “Skid Row” until the 1970s. But in the 70s, New York City displaced the multitudes of homeless people who had found themselves clustered in this neighbourhood. This, along with demolishing the El train elevated railway, would bring about a new era for the Bowery. The 1990s would see gentrification begin to creep in. Today, the historic buildings are surrounded by high-rise condos, luxury apartment complexes and even a Whole Foods grocery store. Proof that as quickly as a neighbourhood can change for the worse, it can change for the better.
The first stop on our Walking Tour of the Bowery is at the old St. Mark’s Church in-the-Bowery. It is on this spot that the development of the neighbourhood truly began. At the intersection of 2nd and 10th Street, walk north until you see the giant silhouette of a church in the distance. As you approach, keep your ears peeled for the sounds of an old church bell ringing in the distance.
The church marks the site where Petrus (Peter) Stuyvesant first built his home when he landed on the shores of what was then a new colony in 1652. Stuyvesant was the first governor of the then-named New Amsterdam. Stuyvesant has been a great Dutch soldier. But during a battle against the Spanish, he was badly wounded and lost his leg. It was amputated and replaced with a wooden prosthetic, giving him the nickname “Peg Leg Pete.” Because he could no longer fight, he was selected by the Dutch West India Company to go to New York. There he would serve as governor over one of their new colonies.
After his accident, Stuyvesant was a melancholy man and being sent away surely didn’t help things. But he was also a religious man. Even away from home he wanted to create a place where he felt a connection to his homeland. And he did this through the construction of a church, a place that brought him much peace. Stuyvesant had purchased this specific property for his dwelling because it was located far away from the hustle and bustle of the “big city.” Back then remember, the Bowery was a small parcel of farmland. But throughout his time as governor, Stuyvesant watched the area grow. And transform. Much to his dismay, his once peaceful neighbourhood would soon be riddled with townhouses and noisy pedestrians.
Despite all this, Stuyvesant stayed put in his new home. When he died, he was buried beneath his chapel. In 1793 the original chapel was sold off but the community built an even more impressive Episcopal church in its place in 1795. The same one which stands here today.
But soon after building the new and improved church, people started noticing strange occurrences happening inside. One day, the villagers were awoken by the tolling of the church bell. This would usually not be a strange noise, but this bell was ringing in the middle of the night. And it wouldn’t stop!
Everyone raced to the church to see what was the matter. But when they arrived, they found the door to the bell tower locked shut from the inside. When they finally broke down the door, the noise stopped. But the room was empty. And they looked up to find the bell’s rope had been cut. The only reachable part of the rope was way too far above the ground for anyone human to reach. Everyone was perplexed as to how the bell had been rung at all, let alone for hours.
The townsfolk searched the church for clues. Finally, they found the torn part of the rope lying atop Peter Stuyvesant‘s crypt. And as they were all standing around the crypt in silent horror, they heard the sound of Stuyvesant’s wooden leg echoing throughout the halls of the church. Today many people report still hearing the ghostly footsteps of Stuyvesant’s wooden leg throughout the church. Still watching over his new colony.
Another interesting story from the churchyard was that of the theft of Alexander Turney Stewart body! When he died in April 1876, Alexander Turney Stewart was America’s third-richest man. Stewart made his fortune as a retailer. He was a hugely popular figure in the city, and his funeral was packed with the cream of the crop. Writers, politicians, lawyers and more all came out to St. Mark’s Church on the Bowery to pay their respects.
In October, six months after Stewart’s burial, the church sexton noticed that stone doors to the Stewart family vault had been disturbed. When he looked inside, he noticed several vault slabs moved, but the tombs were still in place. The sexton was immediately suspicious, with fears of so-called “resurrection men” on the rise who were known to steal corpses. The sexton made sure to hire a night watchmen just in case the people who broke in tried to do it again.
In the 1780s, grave robbing was on the rise. Originally grave robbing was mainly done for doctors to get their hands on “fresh” dead bodies. They used these to practice their trade and other medical experiments. But in the 1870s, the sensation of grave robbing was often done in search of ransom. Even Abraham Lincoln’s body was the victim of an attempted robbery! Although thankfully, that was thwarted. But it was not uncommon for the bodies of wealthy men to fetch a handsome price. Once the ransom was paid, the bodies would be returned.
Unfortunately, the night watchmen the sexton had hired failed at his one duty. And on the morning of November 7th, the sexton discovered the body of A. T. Stewart had been removed from his vault. Police arrived on the scene and were horrified by the brown blotches they found around the area. These were immediately identified as “pieces” of Stewart himself. Stewart had been dead for more than eight months and would have been in a terrible state of decomposition. So when the criminals left with the body, they left bits of the body trailing behind… But the trail went cold, and the police had no leads.
The newspapers ate up this media sensation. A reward of $25,000 was offered to the public for any information leading to the thief’s capture. Hundreds of letters poured in with theories, but none proved to provide any actual leads. In 1879 the attorneys for Stewart received a letter from Canada claiming to be the robbers. When the lawyers asked for proof, they provided several silver pieces of Stewart’s missing nameplate, also taken during the robbery. The lawyers tried negotiating with the thieves, but something must have scared them off. Perhaps it was all the talk of the robbery is all the papers. Either way, they never wrote to the family again.
A very contested private memoir by the residing police chief Walling claimed that he was in communication with the real thieves. And he claimed to have negotiated with the criminals. With the help of Stewart’s wife, they met up at midnight on an abandoned pathway outside the Hudson Valley. The masked men arrived on horseback with a velvet coffin cloth taken from the tomb. And a bag of bones they claimed were Stewart’s.
The masked men handed them over in exchange for the money and rode off into the night. Walling claims the bones were taken back by Stewart’s wife. In 1885, they were laid in the Cathedral of the Incarnation, where Stewart’s wife was also buried. But many have refuted this claim as gossip and a way for Walling to make a few bucks on his memoir.
No one will ever know the truth, but many people have claimed that the cemetery is haunted by the ghost of Stewart himself. Stewart is known to roam angrily around the church, furious about being torn from his grave. Many say if you smell something awful, like the piece of his body that was trailed behind, that is a sign Stewart is just around the corner. Whatever the case, stories like this prove there is something truly cursed about the Bowery.
Head west along the aptly named Stuyvesant Street towards Astor Place. On Astor Place and Cooper Square you’ll find a gorgeous Italiane brownstone that stands out amongst the glass towers surrounding it. This is the old Cooper Union Foundation Building. The Cooper Union Foundation Building was named after American Industrialist Peter Cooper. Cooper invented rolled-iron beams which provided a dramatically more powerful support system in engineering buildings. And these new beams were first implemented inside the Cooper Union Foundation Building.
The Cooper Union Foundation Building was also revolutionary as it featured the world’s first elevator shaft. The shaft itself was built into the design of the building despite the actual elevator not even yet being invented! It was Cooper’s dream for the building to house an educational institute, open and accessible to all. Regardless of their financial situation or social status. Cooper was a workingman’s son who had less than a year of formal schooling and yet he wnt on to become a famous industrialist and inventor. And he wanted these same opportunities to be open to young people across the country. To discover and develope their talents. And the Bowery was filled with such people!
When the institute was opened, it held night classes for adult education in applied sciences and architectural drawing. During the day, the school was open for women. They could attend classes on such subjects as photography, telegraphy, typewriting and shorthand.
On February 27th, 1860, Abraham Lincoln came to the Cooper Union’s Great Hall to deliver a speech that would cement itself in the history books. And propel him toward the presidency. A New York writer said of the address, “No man ever before made such an impression on his first appeal to a New York audience.” Abolitionists had been centralized in this part of the Bowery for years. This was the perfect spot for Lincoln to find like-minded people to speak to. Since then, the Great Hall has served as a platform for historic addresses by American Presidents Grant, Cleveland, Taft, Theodore Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, and Bill Clinton. Today it remains an architectural gem and historic artifact.
Walk south along 3rd Avenue until you reach East 7th Street. Walk west along east 7th Street until you come to #15, where you’ll find the historic McSorley’s Old Ale House. McSorley’s is Manhattan’s oldest continuously run tavern! You definitely need to make a point to stop here. McSorley’s Old Ale House was opened in 1854 by Irish immigrant John McSorley. And one of the most unique aspects of the tavern is that they still to this day only sell two traditional drinks; a light ale and a dark ale. But at only $5.50-per-drink you won’t mind the lack of choice.
The bar is also of important historic significance as it was here, that President Abraham Lincoln came for drink after speaking at the Cooper Union. The chair hanging above the bar was the one that Abraham Lincoln himself sat in when he came in for a drink.
Walking inside is like stepping back in time. The dark wooden interior is plastered with paintings and photographs from the past. When John McSorely opened the pub, he also kept his horses in the back. Today remnants of those stables are also hung all over the walls. See if you can count all the horseshoes. As the bar was famed for Lincoln’s attendance, they also have several pieces of ephemera from his presidency, including a framed newspaper announcing his death and the wanted poster for John Wilkes Booth. Another famous person who visited the bar was Harry Houdini. And the handcuffs he once used in his show are hung up here on the wall!
But lurking in the shadows, amongst the displays, are the ghosts of the tavern’s past. One of their frequent ghosts seems to have an affinity with the bar cats that lounge around. Bar staff have frequently seen their cats arching their backs and nuzzling into invisible hands. They are also reports of disembodied noises late at night. Perhaps some of their patrons have simply never left.
Walking back to 3rd Avenue/Cooper Square, make your way to #32 Cooper Square, where you’d once have found the old Columbia Hall. In the 1890s, the Bowery was known as the center of queer nightlife in New York City. People of different races, social statuses, and backgrounds all congregated in the Bowery, resulting in a more tolerant attitude towards a variety of then-named “social outcasts.”
Columbia Hall was opened in 1890 by James or Biff Ellison. Ellison was a well-known gangster within the Five Points (more on that later) and opened this establishment as a brothel for gay men. There was a large bar and beer garden on the first floor, and the upper levels served as bedrooms and apartments.
Brothels were rampant in the Bowery. And this one was no different than all the other salons, save for the fact the prostitutes were men. But not all men who came to this part of the Bowery were there to purchase sex; some simply felt this part of town was a safe space for them. Columbia Hall acted as a community centre for gay men in the 1890s. Many men came here to drink and gamble and never bothered to solicit. They simply enjoyed the familiar company.
The first club for transgender people opened here on the floor above the bar. Inside, transwomen could come and dress as themselves without fear of what anyone else would think. They were among friends. Columbia Hall was also home to some of the first drag acts in the city. “The Bowery Queen,” was one such drag performer who made a name for herself and opened the door for many others to follow.
Despite many in the Bowery looking the other way, there were many a religious protest against the tavern’s operation. Homophobic groups called the building “Paresis Hall.” Paresis was a condition which caused brain inflammation and sometimes insanity, usually brought on by syphilis. Syphilis was a disease many incorrectly thought only gay men carried. And nicknaming the building after the disease was another way the religious zealots could attack the character of those who would visit. “Paresis Hall” couldn’t escape public condemnation forever. And after only nine years of operation, it closed down in 1899. Today, the building remains a memory to one of the first gay communities in New York City.
Walk north one block and turn west down East 4th street. At #29 East 4th Street stands an old brick mansion which was once home to wealthy merchant Seabury Tredwell. Tredwell built his home here in 1832. The regal manor starkly contrasts with the Bowery’s gritty nature. But a great example of the kinds of houses that were being built in the area before the El Train drove the neighbourhood into a downward spiral. Despite its age, if you walked inside, you’d find almost the entire house unchanged. This is because the house is now a city-owned museum, the Merchant’s House Museum.
The Merchant’s House Museum‘s aim is to present to the public the personal lives of an upper-class family living in New York in the 19th century. The house preserves incredible examples of surviving architecture from the period as well as hundreds of personal objects, furniture and photographs from the Tredwell family. If you have an opportunity to visit the museum, it is a real contrast to the lives of the
Supposedly, one descendant, in particular, doesn’t like when you touch her things. This would be the Tredwell’s youngest daughter, Gertrude. Gertrude was a spinster who lived out her entire Iife inside the house. She was born in 1840 and died in 1933. Gertrude had seven siblings, two brothers and five sisters. While the rest of her family grew up and had families of their own, Gertrude remained alone. Gertrude had one real chance at love, but sadly, the affair was broken up by her Episcopalian father. He refused to let Gertrude marry a poor Irishman. Gertrude’s sad fate supposedly inspired Henry James‘ novel Washington Square Park. The book is about a woman whose father attempts to thwart her romance with another man.
In her lonely spinsterhood, she developed an angry and eccentric personality. She seemed to care only for the house, with nothing else left in her own life to care for. She was constantly obsessing with ensuring the house maintained its elegance, despite falling into financial ruin.
After Gertrude’s death, the house was passed down to her cousin. The house was set to be foreclosed, and all the contents sold off to pay their debts. But Gertrude’s intrepid cousin had another idea. She was able to sell the house and all its contents to the city. The city was amazed by the preservation of the house and all its memorabilia inside. All they had to do was slap a few plaques on the walls and charge admission, and the museum was up and running.
Since becoming a museum, the staff have seen the ghostly figure of Gertrude herself roaming the halls. She loves nothing more than making loud, irritating noises whenever “her” objects are moved. See if you can spot her in the window, peering down on the street. She is often seen looking out, watching over her beloved home.
Head back to Cooper street, where Cooper streets officially become the Bowery at the intersection of East 4th Street. At #357 Bowery, we can find the exterior facade of the old Germania Fire Insurance Building. One of the most iconic aspects of this building is the haphazard-looking stacks of iron staircases piled up on the facade of the brick building. The Germania Fire Insurance Building was built in 1870 by prominent German-American architect Carl Pfeiffer. In the 1870s, fires were one of the most common causes of destruction in New York City. The dense urban environment meant that if one house caught fire, it would quickly spread throughout the block. So ensuring your properties against fire was BIG business.
The Germania Fire Insurance Company represented the growing number of German immigrants who came to New York in the 19th century. Back then, Division Street, east of the Bowery, was called “Little Germany” or Kleindeutschland. By 1840, over 20,000 German immigrants were living in this part of town.
When the Germania Fire Insurance company was building their new corporate office, they wanted to make it in the centre of Little Germany. And while all the official architectural plans stated the building was for business use only, they had always secretly planned to use the building for some tenement housing.
One of the aspects of the building that makes it so ingenious is the mansard roof and dormer windows. In the 19th century, New York companies were taxed for every additional floor added to a building. But a clever loophole was invented by architects in the creation of the mansard roof. The mansard roof is characterized by two slopes on every side of the roof. The lower slope being considerably steeper than the upper. When you add dormer windows, the mansard roof provides a spacious and economical attic storey. Essentially a livable space, but listed as an attic, that wouldn’t fall under taxable laws.
In 1870, the city census found seven families living inside the building. Each of these families would typically be made up of at least ten people. Tenement flats were also called “railroad flats” because the long, narrow apartments were linked together like the cars of a train. This resulted in windowless apartments. Without windows, the apartments were also without access to fresh air. This, combined with the cramped spaces, led them to become wrought with diseases.
Eventually, things got so bad that the Tenement House Act of 1901 was passed. It mandated strict enforcement inside buildings like these to ensure tenants had air and light and access to running water.
As we walk down the block toward our next stop, let’s take a moment to consider why, despite the growing German immigrant population in the 19th century, this part of town now lacks almost any memory of their presence. What caused this exodus of German immigrants from the Bowery? The answer might surprise you. And it surrounds the story of the city’s worst maritime disaster: the PS General Slocum Fire.
The PS General Slocum was a sidewheel passenger steamboat built in 1891. Over the years, it took passengers to and from Manhattan, across the East River, towards Brooklyn and Long Island. But the owners were reckless and didn’t keep up with its maintenance or address rising safety concerns. On June 15, 1904, the boat was carrying 1,342 members of St. Mark’s Evangelical Lutheran Church. The members took a yearly excursion to a park on Long Island, where they hosted a celebratory church picnic. Almost all of the church members were German American immigrants from Little Germany. And most were women and children. The men unable to attend as they had to stay behind to work.
Shortly after departure, a fire started in the Lamp Room. Perhaps caused by a dropped match. The moment the fire broke out, the boat was cruising through the hauntingly named “Hell’s Gate” along the East River. Coincidence or curse? You decide.
The lamp room was filled with straw, oily rags, and lamp oil. A perfect environment for a fire to be fueled and grow out of control in mere minutes. A 12-year-old boy spotted the fire, and tried to warn the captain. But the captain tossed him aside, not believing the boy and not wanting to cause a delay. It took staff just over ten minutes to realize the full extent of the fire. And by then, it was too late.
The boat was sinking quickly and the captain tried steering it towards North Brother Island. In the hopes people could jump off and swim to shore. But safety standards hadn’t been met for some time on the old paddlewheel. Women who grabbed nearby life preservers found that they fell apart in their hands. Having rotted away with neglect. Mothers took any lifejackets still intact and strapped them to their children. But when they tossed their children into the water to escape the inferno, they watched in horror as they sunk like rocks. The lifejackets proving completely useless.
Most of these immigrants didn’t know how to swim. This, combined with their heavy wool clothing that absorbed water like mad, made it almost impossible for anyone to escape. Even if they were only a few meters from shore. Twenty minutes after the fire had first broken out, the flames had engulfed the vessel. As the fire burned, it weakened the overloaded starboard section of the hurricane deck. The deck collapsed, killing the 100-500 people who were still stuck on the deck.
1,021 people either burned to death or drowned in the disaster. When survivors returned to their homes in Little Germany, the street was deadly silent. Entire families had died, leaving the streets a ghost town. Some men who had lost their entire families wandered aimlessly around the empty streets of Kleindeutschland. The survivors couldn’t handle the trauma left by this silence, and most moved uptown to escape the memories left there.
Our next stop is past East 3rd Street at the fanciful Bowery Hotel. The Bowery Hotel is today one of the most luxurious hotels in the city. It’s often the top choice for visiting celebrities of all sorts. But back in 1875, the building was originaly designed for the Dry Dock Savings Bank. Back then, the Bowery was still in its period of middle-class growth. And with that speculation that the area would rival 5th Avenue, wealthy enterprises were scooping up real estate all over the Bowery.
The building’s design plans were stunningly impressive. And the bank looked more like a regal castle looming over the rest of the street. The Dry Dock Savings Bank was open here until 1992, when the bank went bust. The building was sold off in 2000, and the new owners went about transforming it into the modern-day Bowery Hotel.
Back when the building was a bank, no one stayed overnight. But once it was converted into a hotel, nightly sightings of ghosts were commonplace here. Accounts of strange occurrences from almost day one of its inceptions as a hotel was reported. The most common sighting is located inside the elevator. Around 1 am, the elevator is known to erratically move up and down, despite no buttons being pressed.
Guests have also seen a ghostly woman sitting inside their hotel room when they enter late at night. Only to disappear moments later. Then there are the bar ghosts, who angrily knock drinks out of people’s hands. But not all are as vengeful, some spirits love nothing more than chatting up the customers. Perhaps just looking for someone to talk to.
But why would this hotel be home to so many spirits? The reason lies behind where the building was constructed. Long before the bank was built, this land was used to house the New York Marble Cemetery. The cemetery was built in 1830 as the first non-sectarian cemetery in New York. The cemetery was unlike many others being built at the time, as there were no gravestones, only marble vaults. Bodies were being buried deep underground. The reason for this was the horrible outbreak of yellow fever. It was thought that by burying bodies deep underground and sealing the tombs, would help prevent the spread of the disease. Over 2000 bodies were buried in the Marble Cemetery. While the eastern parts of the New York Marble Cemetery can still be visited today, the graves on the western end were lost below the newly constructed Dry Dock Savings Bank.
A few doors down, at #330 Bowery, standing tall and elegant on the corner, we find the old Bouwerie Lane Theatre. The building was initially constructed in 1879 as the Atlantic Savings Bank. It was designed in a French Second Empire style by Henry Engelbert. And despite looking like it has been carved out of stone, the building is a rare example of cast iron employed to appear as raw material.
When the Atlantic Savings Bank collapsed, the burgeoning German community purchased the building and opened the German Exchange Bank. With the downfall of the Bowery, the German bank closed its doors as well. It wasn’t until the 1960s that the building was converted into an off-Broadway theatre named the Bouwerie Lane Theatre. The theatre remained open for 30 years but closed in 2006. Today it is a memory of the past. The upper floors have been turned into a private mansion-apartment, and the ground levels are used for retail.
Let’s make a quick detour east along Bond Street to #47 Bond which still houses il Buco Restaurant to this day. This part of New York in the 1840s was better known as the Red Light District. And like any good Red Light District, it was frequented by many lonely writers. And among them was none other than famed horror writer Edgar Allan Poe. Poe had first discovered the restaurant because his good friend Marie lived in the apartments above #47 Bond Street. Poe would frequently come by to visit Marie when his wife was sick. Searching for solace and comfort in the arms of another woman. But he also found comfort in the tavern below.
Down in the basement cellar was hidden away popular speakeasy. This dark and eerie 200-year-old cellar went on to inspire the setting for Poe’s novel, The Cask of Amontillado. His novel wasn’t set in New York but rather in an unnamed city in Italy. The story of the Cask of Amontillado is all about a man taking revenge. The “hero” of the story believes one of his best friends had wronged him. So, to take his revenge, he entombs the ex-friend in a basement cellar, just like the one inside il Buco.
In real life, Poe was constantly fighting with his literary rivals. And perhaps The Cask of Amontillado was a way for Poe to release some pent-up anger. Owners of the current restaurant claim that the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe still comes back to the cellar from time to time. Staff often find half-empty yet sealed bottles of wine in the basement cellar. As if a ghostly apparition came back to have another glass for the road.
A few doors down, at #31 Bond Street, is an old brick apartment complex. The building is stunning, with gorgeous multicoloured brickwork, various arched and square windows and, the best part, a series of detailed stone friezes decorating the facade. In the 1850s, the building was owned by a wealthy dentist named Harvey Burdell. Burnell was murdered right here, in this very building. But long after his death, his name would still be plastered on the cover of newspapers due to the torrid nature of the crime.
Burnell owned the entire building. He used the lower levels as his office space and primary residence, and the rest he rented out. Unfortunately for him, in the summer of 1855, a woman named Emma Cunningham moved into #31 Bond Street as one of his tenants. Burnell fell quickly for the widowed Cunningham. All those who witnessed the goings on inside the townhouse said that Cunningham acted like she was already Burnell’s wife. Despite the two only dating for a short period of time. She hired his maids, ordered around the workers, made him meals and brought them down to his suite. She would even dine with him on certain occasions.
But this was not a happy relationship as the neighbours frequently reported hearing shouting matches between the go. The arguments seemed to constantly surround the marriage proposal that Cunningham was expecting from Burnell. One which he never “officially” would give. The rumours surrounding their relationship were lush. Some claimed that she had fallen pregnant with his baby, but he forced her to have an abortion. Others argued that Burnell himself performed the abortion right here in his office.
Whatever the clashes between the two, it all came to a head on January 31st, 1857. Burnell’s body was discovered in his home office. He had been strangled and brutally stabbed 15 times. Almost as soon as his body arrived at the coroner’s office, Emma Cunningham arrived, claiming that she was his wife. And the sole inheritor of his $100,000 fortune and the new owner of #31 Bond Street.
Emma was not at the crime scene, and police had yet to inform her of her death. But she seemed to already know what happened. Raising immediate suspicions. Police arrested her, but it was her trial that would spin the media into a frenzy. So many allegations about her were almost too juicy not to have been an invention of the newspapers themselves. Neighbours claimed she was sleeping with her fellow border John J. Eckel. They even reported that Cunningham was forcing her daughter into sleeping with other men in the building.
During the trial, Cunningham claimed to be pregnant with Burnell’s baby, but many suspected she was stuffing her dresses. After nine months, she showed up at trial with a baby in tow. But it was later revealed to have been another woman’s baby, and Cunningham was never pregnant. Instead, she had purchased the child for $1,000. Bought from a poor woman she found living in squalor in the Bowery.
Despite revealing these fictions, Burnell’s attorney Mr. Clinton, couldn’t convince a jury of Cunningham’s guilt. There was no physical evidence linking her to the crime. Cunningham was acquitted after only two hours of jury deliberation. But she was guilty to the public, who had been following along with all the details of the crime and case in the newspaper. And the public had just seen this woman get away with murder.
Cunningham was left penniless after Burnell’s death. But instead of receiving his fortunes, she was forced by public pressure to flee the city. The case of Harvey Burdell’s murder remains officially “unsolved,” and it is perhaps for this reason that the ghost of Burdell is thought to still haunt this building today.
Walk one block south along Lafayette Street, then west on Bleeker to make your way back to Bowery Street. If you’re hungry, be sure to stop at Levain Bakery along Lafayette Street, as they sell some of the best baked goods in town! This little stretch of the Bowery is home to some beautiful examples of Federal-style row houses. They are virtually untouched by the ages and are a gorgeous example of what these side streets would have looked like in the heyday of the Bowery.
Make a stop at the corner of Bleecker Street and Bowery. It was here, in 1905, on these darkened streets, that Thomas “Eat ‘Em Up Jack” McManus, the toughest man in New York, was murdered. McManus had a burgeoning career as a boxer. This prizefighting drew the eye of Paul Kelly, leader of the notorious Five Point Gang. Kelly employed McManus as a bouncer for his various criminal establishments. This included our next stop, McGurk’s Suicide Hall.
McManus earned the name “Eat ‘Em Up Jack” by using those fisticuffs to almost literally “eat through” any rowdy customers that came through the doors. His face was reportedly a thing to see as it was covered in welts and scars, and almost all his front teeth were missing. But every new wound only seemed to make him grow stronger.
One night, while working inside Kelly’s Little Naples Café, a rival gang member named Chic Tricker entered the club. Chic Tricker was a member of the Monk Eastman gang. After one too many drinks, he started violently insulting one of the showgirls. McManus threw him out of the bar and even had to draw his pistol after a fight ensued. McManus fired a few shots, but Tricker got away with only a bruised ego. But Tricker wasn’t one to hold grudges lightly. And he swore to get his revenge.
A few days later, Trick’s fellow gang member Sardinia Frank attacked McManus right here on the corner of Bleeker and Bowery. Frank hid a gas pipe wrapped in newspaper and dealt a lethal blow to the top of McManus’ head. The entire ordeal started a colossal battle between the two gangs, each one trying to get revenge other the other. Resulting in blood being spread all across the Bowery. So if you see a big burly spectre of a man lurking in the shadows, you might have spotted the ghost of Eat ‘Em Up Jack himself.
At #315 Bowery you’ll find a small memory dedicated to the famous CBGB club which once stood here. CBGB was a legendary punk rock club opened in 1973 by Hilly Kristal. It made the history book as the birthplace of punk rock. Bands like the Ramones, Patti Smith, Talking Heads, Blondie, Joan Jett, Lou Reed, AC/DC, Green Day, Guns’ n Roses and Pearl Jam all graced the stage. You weren’t truly punk rock until you’d played at CBGB.
Sadly, the club closed in 2006 after Hilly lost his battle with cancer. Patti Smith closed the club with its penultimate concert on October 15, 2006. Funnily enough, for a punk rock club that was repulsed by the mainstream, its doors now house (of all things) a John Varvatos clothing store. But if you walk right up to the front windows and look down at the cement below, you can still make out the words “CGBG ’73” etched into the ground. A lasting memory of the music made within these walls.
In the 1970s, a highly controversial effort was made to “disperse” the homeless population in the Bowery. Afterwards, the neighbourhood found itself slowly going through a process of revitalization and gentrification. And while many of the historic buildings along the Bowery were preserved, others met the eventual fate of demolition. And it is at one of these new developments, we find ourselves today searching for a ghost from the Bowery’s past.
The rather dull glass condominium at #295 Bowery street stands atop the remains of the once-infamous McGurk’s Salon. Back in the 1900s, McGurk’s Salon was a tavern more aptly known by the public as McGurk’s “Suicide Hall.” The building was originaly built in 1863 and originally served as housing for soldiers returning from the Civil War. Most of these men suffered greatly in the war and returned horribly changed men. The salon on the first floor served the seedy clientele the neighbourhood was starting to fill with. But as seedy as the clients were, the staff were no better. Bartenders frequently filled drinks with chloral hydrate. This would cause patrons to pass out, so the staff could easily steal whatever money was left in their wallets. Further taking advance of these poor men.
With so many veterans in this part of town, there was also a high demand for prostitution. The owner of McGruk’s saw this as an opportunity for money-making and opened a large brothel above the salon. Life was rough for the women who worked at McGurk’s Salon. In 1899 alone, there were six suicides in the building and seven failed attempts. Most of these were by women jumping from the upper floors of the building. Others took carbolic acid, a popular elixir of death during the Victorian era. All these deaths lead to the public nicknaming the salon the “Suicide Hall.”
While the salon itself may have disappeared, replaced by newer, flashier modern buildings, the ghosts of the salon remain. Look up as you pass by, as you might see the jumping ghosts that haunt the building. There is also the ghost of Annie Moore, a local prostitute that worked inside Suicide Hall. Annie was brutally murdered in a way newspapers referred to as a “Ripper Style” murder. Her throat was slashed, and her body was mutilated.
Police did little to find her killer. But there was one man that locals thought had to be her killer. He was known as “Old Scratch” and was a frequent customer at McGurk’s. He would sit at the bar and chat with anyone who would give him the time of day about the details of Annie’s murder. Details so specific, not mentioned in the paper, that everyone had to assume he was her killer. But no one ever followed up on the rumours, and her death remained “unsolved.” To this day, her ghost has been known to roam the streets outside McGurk’s. Perhaps waiting for Old Scratch to return and seek her revenge.
Just around the corner, down Houston Street, is an artistic landmark of the neighbourhood; the Houston Bowery Mural. In 2006, real estate developer Tony Goldman invited contemporary artists from around the world to put their artwork on display outside his building. Over the years, the street art on the wall changes with the seasons. With something new gracing the wall every few months. Adding a vibrant new work of art for locals and tourists alike to admire as they pass by.
Passed Houston Street, along the Bowery, beside the awning of what is now a swanky plant-based restaurant is where, in the 1930s, you’d have found a dingy dive bar named Sammy’s Bowery Follies. The legendary club was named after the owner Sammy Fuchs. Fuchs opened the bar on the Bowery to serve the thirsty vagrants that frequented the many missions and flophouses along this stretch of slums. Generally, his clientele was down on their luck, homeless, broke and often running from the law. Characters aplenty!
But in the 1940s, Sammy’s became somewhat of a tourist destination. A shock to hear, I know. What on earth would a tourist want to come here for? To the epicentre of the so-called “Bowery Bums”? Well, it was for those very characters that frequented the tavern. The upper classes of New York City were tired of their dreary, squeaky-clean, and personality-less neighbourhood cocktail bars. So they would come down to the Bowery to gawk at the lower classes. Like they were watching a play, live theatre on the streets.
While the idea of the rich getting pleasure and entertainment from others’ misfortune is beyond offensive, Fuchs saw it as an opportunity. He transformed his club into somewhat of a cabaret. Sammy built a literal stage inside and hired vaudeville preforms to further exaggerate the rampant rumours about the dangerous ol’ Bowery. He themed the restaurants after the “Gay 90s” (that’s 1890s for you young people).
Busloads of tourists would arrive from New York, Britain and beyond to watch the singers belt out show tunes and act out comedic skits. You could have a drink with a “sailor” in a damp leather saloon booth and hear all about his torrid stories. Most of which were clearly fabricated for the entertainment of the visitors. When Sammy died in 1969, the bar closed its doors, and it remains empty to this day. A black iron gate is the only thing making this historic destination along the Bowery.
At #222 Bowery is the last remaining YMCA branch that dates back to the 1880s. The Young Men’s Institute (as it was called back then) was a community space where young men of the Bowery could come to seek physical, intellectual, and spiritual health. The building was designed by Bradford L. Gilbert in high Queen Ann style. The iconic recessed metal-enframed windows, painted a stunning dark green, have beautiful wreath boughs hanging from below as decorations. The windows are separated by giant pilasters with ornate cornices on top. At the top of the singular dormer window, you can see the old terra-cotta carving with the date “1884” engraved on the building.
A fantastical building that was meant to draw in curious young men from the Bowery. Inside, they would find a gymnasium, bowling alley, library, entertainment hall, and even rooftop garden! The idea being if these men were inside having fun, they were off the streets, not causing trouble.
In 1932 the YMCA moved out of the neighbourhood, and the building became a residential space for artists. The converted open-plan apartments attracted artists from all over the city. Mark Rothko, Andy Warhol, Allan Ginsberg and Roy Lichtenstein were all frequent guests and visitors to the old YMCA. But it was in 1974 that famed writer William S. Burroughs moved in. He lived here for almost ten years and called the space his “bunker.” No doubt his time spent in the Bowery during those vice-ridden days influenced his works and his formation of the Beat Generation.
Across the street from the old YMCA is another gorgeous architectural wonder, the Bowery Mission. You can spot the building from a mile away by its iconic red entry doors. As the Bowery was becoming more and more of a health hazard for the city, it was essential to set up assistance for those living in these terrible conditions. Gangs, so-called “degraded women,” and drunkards roamed the street with abundance. With nowhere to go, they often got into fights, and violence ran rampant across the bloody mile. Back then, the Bowery was commonly referred to as “Skid Row” or “Street of No Return.”
In 1876, the Bowery Mission was built at #227 Bowery Street by architect William Jose. The building was designed in an English-inspired Tudor-Revival style. Built to resemble a traditional British Inn. Perhaps harkening back to memories of the heyday of the British Empire for many immigrants. The gorgeous curved keystones above the green-painted windows are my favourite part of the building’s facade. Inside, there is even a medieval English-inspired chapel with a beautiful two-storey organ. This church was of particular importance. You might have noticed that aside from the church at the start of this tour, not a single religious institute can be found along the Bowery. This was because most people thought the community was lost and beyond redemption. But the people at the Bowery Mission thought otherwise.
But the most impressive part of the building, which still stands today, iare the stained glass windows above the first-floor entrance. The windows depict the parabole of the prodigal son. The inscription below reads: “When he came to himself, he said I will arrive and go to my father. He saw him and had compassion. My son was dead and is alive again.” The windows were meant to be so beautiful that they would attract the eyes of those outsiders and make them curious enough to want to come inside to see what the Mission was all about. To encourage these unfortunates to get off the street and seek help.
The Mission has provided food, shelter, clothing, job opportunities, medical assistance and rehabilitation for millions of men for over 140 years. It had to expand into the next-door Federal-style townhouse in 1830 as the need was assistance was so great. The Mission’s breadline was one of the most famous images of the Bowery after the great depression. 2,000 breakfasts were served every morning. A Bowery Mission breakfast consisted of a large bread roll and a cup of coffee. Despite the fortunes of the Bowery changing drastically over the last 100 years, the Mission continues to service the unhoused people in the Lower East Side to this day.
At #220 Bowery are the now-shuttered windows of the Bowery House Hotel. But long before it was the Bowery House Hotel, it was better known as the Prince Hotel, built in 1927. The Prince Hotel was originally created as temporary lodging for embattled soldiers returning from World War II. The rooms here were tiny, bunks stacked together to fit as many as 12 men into one room.
This was originaly thought not to be an issue, as it was, after all, only meant to be a temporary stopping point for these men before they got their lives together and moved out. But for many men who returned from war, shattered and shaken, they would never leave. They were seduced by the Bowery and its den of sin. They could drown their sorrows in the taverns and get their needs met by the working girls in the brothels. Skid Row was the last stop on the road for many of these poor soldiers, and today, there are reports that their heartbroken ghosts remain. Haunted by the memories, still trying to rid themselves of their past along the streets of the Bowery.
One of the iconic establishments across the Bowery in the late 19th century were the so-called “flophouses.” A flophouse was a place that offered very low-cost lodging and provided simply a space to sleep and minimal amenities. By 1890, there were approximately 9,000 homeless men, and some women, living in the Bowery. Most were alcoholics and gambling addicts who could easily find their vices met on the Bowery. With the expansion of the El Train, the light was further blocked out above the Bowery. Therefore, any business trying to work in the literal darkness could get away with murder. Or, at the very least, with other sinful immoralities.
One of the longest-run flophouses in the Bowery was the Alabama House. The flophouse was opened in 1889 and was amazingly designed by architect James E. Ware. Even today, you can appreciate the unbelievable architecture incorporated into the multi-purpose five-story building. Romanesque and Queen Anne elements like terra cotta friezes, ornamental cornices, rounded bullnose brick corners and unique pilaster capitals all decorate the exterior of the building. The facade’s beauty a harsh contrast to the awful living conditions inside.
“Flophouses” were named as such because accommodation was little more than a person-sized piece of wood on the ground where someone could literally “flop” down for the night. Usually, these “beds” cost about five cents but were little more than a wooden stand above the ground. You were lucky to get a dirty piece of cloth to use as your blanket. The five-cent cost of your stay is also why this kind of establishment was called “a dime house.”
But the clientele at these places left much to be desired. Over the years, the Alabama Flophouse would see police raids repeatedly, with many of their patrons being tramped off to jail. A meagre house painter was murdered by fellow lodgers Emma and William Wilson. The pair tricked him into following Emma down a dark alley thinking she was a woman of the night. Instead, they stabbed and robbed him for the little he had, which was probably little more than the five cents he carried to pay for his bed. Lodgers Carl Williams, Herman Kas and David Weinberg were all arrested for burglary. And during prohibition, Fred Anderson was caught bootlegging gallons of coloured alcohol he made inside the Alabama Flophouse bathroom. No doubt, if this building could talk, the stories it would tell.
By 1967, the owners of Alabama converted the old flophouse into rental spaces for artists. Today the apartments are still for rent, and while they have been upgraded with modern-day conveniences, they still feature some of the iconic original architecture inside. One can only imagine how expensive these apartments now cost to rent. A shocking transformation from their previous life as dime house ruins.
On our way to the next location, make a quick stop outside #210 Bowery Street. Amazingly, the building has been transformed into a sleek, black-painted high-end condominium. But in the 19th century, this house served as one of the many Dime Museums in New York.
Dime Museums were designed as centers for entertainment for the working class. Unlike the upper classes museums filled with fine art, these “museums” exhibited sensational freak shows. But dime museums were often just a front, and deep within the bowels of the building, you’d find hidden brothels and gambling dens. Here at #210 Bowery, police performed a historic raid in 1883. Inside, they found a gambling den with girls as young as 12 working in the back. An example of the rabid evil that occurred here every day, hidden away behind beautiful facades.
At #190 Bowery stands the unique chamfered corner of the Germania Bank Building. An icon of the neighbourhood. The old bank was built here in 1898, the third location for the Germania Bank, established in 1869 by a group of local German businessmen. As a growing institution, they employed famed German-born architect Marc Eidlitz to build this monument to Beaux-Arts architecture. The granite and brick facade feature rough stonework, an arched entry flanked by Tuscan columns and elaborate copper decorative eaves. While the building remains pretty much as it stood a hundred years ago, sadly, it has remained derelict, covered in graffiti. Awaiting its next life, most likely a condominium space.
Just off of the Bowery, east along Delancey Street, you’ll find one of the city’s most historic music venues: the Bowery Ballroom. Despite not being the most modern venue in the city, it certainly had a cult status and playing here adds a certain cache to your repertoire!
Long before the Bowery Ballroom was a glint in the eye of the musicians, the original building was created in 1929 to house a high-end shoe store and haberdashery. But when the great depression hit and Wall Street crashed, the store quickly went out of business and shuttered its doors. With no one clamouring to renovate the space, now located in the slums of the Bowery, the building was left vacant until 1998.
Michael Swier, the co-founder of the famous newspaper the Village Voice and LA Weekly, bought up the property with an ingenious vision for it. He wanted to create a new music venue that didn’t just sound great but looked great as well. They spent a fortune to ensure the sound quality was perfect. And the new owners went to great lengths to preserve the historic parts of the building. Including the 84-year-old bronze rails. Once used by factory workers, the rails now served as the balcony on the second floor. With a capacity of 575 people, shows here are an intimate affair. If you have the chance to see a concert here when you’re in town, you certainly won’t be disappointed!
Located on the corner of Bowery and Broome Street, you can spot the neon lights of the Sohotel. This hotel is the oldest hotel on the entire strip, opened in 1805! And throughout the over 200 years of its operation, it has had almost as many names. It was first the Military and Civic Hotel, then the Westchester. Then it became the Occidental, going on to be called the Pioneer. Now, it is known only as the Sohotel. Despite all the different names, the hotel itself hasn’t changed much in appearance over the years.
And any building with such a long life along the Bowery comes with its fair share of ghosts. The first occurrence that many believe started the slew of hauntings was the rash suicide of John P. Mount. Mount was a dry goods buyer for the Crawford & Simpson company. He had been a loyal employee for 20 years, so it was the shock of his life when he was unexpectantly fired. Mount was reportedly a very impulsive person and must have been thoroughly distraught after losing his job.
He checked into the hotel, and only a few minutes after leaving the front desk, the sound of a pistol firing was heard from his room in #103. People who stay on that floor report feeling cold even when the heat is on. And the lights are known to go on and off by themselves late at night. Perhaps the ghost of poor John Mount is visiting the hotel once more.
Continuing along, be sure to take a moment to study the grand exterior of the old Bowery Savings Bank at #130 Bowery Street. The Bowery Savings Bank opened its headquarters here in 1834. It chose this spot as its new command post back when the Bowery was considered one of the most illustrious new neighbourhoods in town. It was on the cusp of middle-class status, just as the El train was being built. Before they knew the grim reality that the El train would carry along its tracks.
Stanford White, a notable architect who also designed the famous Washington Square Park arch, built the Bowery Savings Bank. Although the idea of using classical Roman-style Corinthian columns for the bank’s exterior seems commonplace now, this initial design would set the trend for banks to use this style for years to come!
One block south, make a quick stop east along Hester Street. At #139 Hester Street was where the beginnings of one of New York’s most elaborate jailbreak stories would occur. On September 29, 1892, carpenter Frank G. Paulsen was visited late at night by a familiar face. Frank W. Roehl had met Paulsen a few times in the local salons. And as German immigrants, they got along swiftly. But Paulsen was confused by the late-night visit, as the two weren’t that close. Soon after arriving, neighbours reported hearing screams. When next-door neighbour William Burns arrived on the scene, he was horrified to find the mutilated body of Paulsen lying on the floor. He appeared to have been hatched up with an axe.
When the police arrived, they found that Paulsen was missing his two gold watches that all his neighbours knew he never took off. Soon after, there were reports of a very drunk German man causing a scene in one of the local bars, who was also trying to peddle a few gold watches. When the police found Roehl, he was drunk out of his mind. And when they searched his body, they found a bloody axe in his coat pocket.
Roehl was tried for the murder, and when he was promptly found guilty, he was sent off to Sing Sing Prison, better known as the “House of Death.” Roehl was a marble worker and had been previously sent to Sing Sing, but not as a prisoner. But as an employee. He was sent to work on various stonework inside the prison. As such, he knew the prison’s layout well.
With the help of his new roommate, a notorious murderer, the two plotted their escape. Roehl knew of an escape hatch on the roof, and thanks to some hurricane-like weather conditions, the two managed to escape into the night, as they could not be seen by the tower’s watchmen.
A warrant for their arrest was put out along with a hefty finder’s fee. One morning, while bringing in his lines on the Hudson river, fisherman Frederick Cronk noticed a body floating in his net, wearing Sing Sing’s iconic prisoner’s uniforms. Knowing about the reward, he immediately called the police. When they brought the body out of the water, they found it was none other than Frank Roehl. But he hadn’t drowned. Instead, he was found with a bullet hole in his head.
Days later, his roommate’s body also washed up on shore with a similar bullet wound in the head. Police could only determine it must have been a murder-suicide that brought about the untimely end of these two murderers. Despite being convicted of Paulsen’s murder, Roehl never completed his sentence, and it is perhaps for this reason that the tortured ghost of Paulsen is known to haunt the streets of Hester Street today.
From here, let’s walk west along Hester Street towards Mulberry Street. In the 18th century, Mulberry Street was called “Mulberry Bend” as the road bent to veer around the Collect Pond’s wetlands. The name came from the fact that the area was once home to a large patch of mulberry trees that lined the land. But don’t let the idea of a tree-lined street confuse you, this part of town epitomized the worst of the city’s slums. The little lane also went by the name “Slaughterhouse Street,” as it was here where the slaughterhouse of Nicholas Bayard was located.
Rent here was cheap, and slumlords leased out overcrowded tenement houses to the vulnerable new immigrants who arrived in the city. Throngs of people lined the roads, and vendors crowded the narrow streets. Many of these new immigrants were of Italian heritage. In the 19th century, the area quickly became the heart of Manhattan’s Little Italy. And later in the 20th century, this area of town was one of the best places to run into members of New York’s Italian Mafia.
The mafia was obsessed with preserving family and history, so it seems fitting that they would make their home along Mulberry streets. Some prominent mafia families have lived in homes here since the 1890s. And many of the businesses that line the streets were mafia owned. And the ones that weren’t were definitely under their thumb. Some were even required to pay a monthly stipend to get protection from the mob.
In 1972, the notorious mob boss “Crazy Joe” Gallo was gunned down inside Umberto’s Clam House. Gallo was here with his family, celebrating his 43rd birthday. And it would surely be a birthday to remember. Four gunmen entered the dining room during the seafood course and shot twenty rounds into Gallo. To protect his family, Gallo stumbled after the gunmen, mortally wounded into the street and collapsed. And it was right here, beneath our feet, outside the restaurant, that he died. His ghost is still known to haunt the restaurant, perhaps upset he never got to finish that birthday dinner.
Heading back to the Bowery, make your way to the old Citizens Savings Bank on the corner of Canal Street and the Bowery. From here, you can look across Canal Street towards the grand arched entrance to the Manhattan street bridge. The best view of the Beaux-Arts style Citizens Savings Bank is along the Bowery. From here, you can best appreciate the giant arched windows that were once on either side of the bank. Back in the day, these would have let a tremendous amount of light into the building and stepping inside would have been a heavenly experience.
The stonework was carved in a classic style with Doric columns and pilasters. This classical design was meant to give investors a sense of stability. On the top of the facade is a large, wreathed clock. Sitting atop the clock is a great eagle, flanked on either side by two seated figures. The one on the left is a Native American, and on the right, we see a sailor. Today, in keeping with its heritage, the building is occupied by a new branch of HSBC.
At #50 Bowery Street, we can find the swanky Hotel 50 Bowery, but if we take ourselves back to 1750, it was here that we would have found the old Bull’s Head Tavern. The tavern had long been nothing more than a barn for the cattle market, a literal stock market for local slaughterhouses. There was also a dog and bear fighting pit out back. And the smoky, dimly lit tavern grew around these seedy dens as a place for men to drink and gamble.
But, in November 1783, the Bull’s Head Tavern would enter the history books as it was here that General George Washington established his temporary headquarters on Evacuation Day. After the war, the tavern was converted into a butcher shop for Henry Astor to sell meat from the many slaughterhouses in the area. But when the slaughterhouses closed down, so did Astor’s shop, and the original building was lost to time. But history remembers its importance.
At #46 Bowery Street, you can now find Joe’s Shanghai restaurant. But for over 80 years, this was the spot where you could have found the old Bowery Theatre. The original building was named New York Theatre and was designed in an opulent Neoclassical design. The theatre seated over 3,500 people making it the biggest theatre in the United States. It was a superior beauty and home to ballets, operas, and high dramas. Sadly, just two years after opening, the theatre burnt down in 1828.
When it reopened, it was no longer home to the European types of theatre that the middle and upper classes demanded. Instead, to match the changing nature of the Bowery, it was the place to go and see American nativist productions. These populist plays featured blood and guts melodramas which were popular with the rowdy masses. This also included the first production of racist blackface minstrel shows like the debut of “Jumping Jim Crow.” But it wasn’t just modern-day viewers that looked down on these types of productions; the ghosts of the theatre were clearly in opposition to the new productions. The theatre burned down four times in 17 years. Fires were a massive problem in New York, but four fires in a relatively short time was unheard of. Almost as if the building was cursed.
Just a few doors down, hidden behind the yellow and white restaurant awnings, are the old brick buildings, which once held the gang headquarters of the Bowery Boys. In the 1850s, these two buildings were the most feared place in town as they served as the rebellious clubhouse for the local gang members.
The Bowery Boys were a nativist, anti-Catholic, and anti-Irish criminal gang. The gang was initially formed as a group of volunteer firemen. These men led relative law-abiding lives serving as tradesmen, mechanics and butchers. Back then, firefighting was a great way to make some money on the side. There were no central city-wide firefighters. Instead, local communities had rogue groups of firefighters. And it was the first group on the scene to put out the fire that got paid. So often, there was fierce competition to be the first on the scene. And with so many fires in the city, this was big money. This was when the firefighters turned gang members, as violence would often break out and deep-rooted rivalries were formed.
The location of their clubhouse next door to the Bowery Theatre was not happenstance. The Bowery Boys loved the theatre and spent almost all their free time inside. They were such famous attendees that often, plays put on inside the theatre were shows about Bowery Boys themselves. Which always got a massive reaction from the audience. Being working men, the Bowery Boys led a slightly more affluent lifestyle, indulging in entertainment. Despite still being defined as lower-class, the Bowery Boys thought their social status in the city was far and away above those of Irish immigrants who lived in the slum of the Five Points. To them, the slums of the Bowery were almost high living.
The Dead Rabbits were their biggest rival, an Irish Gang living inside the notorious Five Points slums. On July 4th, 1857, the Dead Rabbits attacked Bowery Boys Clubhouse. There were more than 1,000 men fought who fought in the riot that broke out. Firearms, clubs, bricks, bats, and stones were used in the attacks. The battle lasted for two days. And the police could do nothing to stop it. The rest of the city took advantage of the police being otherwise occupied, and looting took place across the Bowery.
The official reports claim only eight people were killed, but many think that fellow gang members were carried off by their friends before police arrived and buried in secret. So that the rival gangs would never know how many on the other side were lost. The Bowery Boys kept their clubhouse until the late 19th century when social reform tore apart the Bowery and the Five Points. With the removal and dismantling of the slums, the gang battles of the Five Points armies disappeared.
At the corner of Bowery and Pell Street, you can see the fabulous red brick exterior of #18 Bowery. Also called the Edward Mooney House. This is one of the oldest, if not the oldest, row houses in New York, dating back to 1785. Edward Mooney was a wealthy butcher who died in the house in 1800. After his death, the house passed hands many times, serving as a brothel, tavern, general store, restaurant and pool hall. The house still goes by his name despite Mooney not residing here for over 200 years. But perhaps he still remains, his ghost watching over the house in his name to this day.
Just down one block is the entrance to Doyers Street. Doyers Street is this seemingly charming winding pedestrian street home to Nom Wah Tea Parlor, the oldest dim sum restaurant in the city! And definitely worth checking out if you’re hungry!
But in the 19th and 20th centuries, Doyer’s Street had a much different atmosphere. The dark, almost hidden away lane was called the “Bloody Angle” and “Murder Alley” by the police officers who patrolled the streets. It was a favoured spot for gang violence, as underground tunnels could be used to escape after any altercations on the street above.
During the 19th century, this part of Chinatown was ruled by two rival gangs. And their clashes would often prove to have deadly results. #5 Doyers Street was the original site of the first Chinese language theatre in New York City. In 1905 a fight broke out between members of the Hip Sing Tong gang and the On Leong Tong gang. The shootout inside the theatre resulted in the deaths of three people. According to police, more people have died violently along the Bloody Angle than at any other intersection in America! But don’t let that worry you; the area is much safer after police crackdowns in the 1990s and today’s gentrification of Chinatown.
But it was not just gang violence that haunted these streets. The old tenement houses on Doyers Street were subjected to multiple fires over the years. In 1910, four tenants died, and five were injured when fire swept through the buildings at #15 and #17 Doyers. Years later, in 1939, another fire broke out in the same building, killing seven people. So many deaths in such a small part of town have resulted in this being reported as one of the most haunted streets in the Bowery.
Perhaps the most famous area of the Bowery is located just at the bottom tip, where you find the old stomping ground once known only as; the Five Points. The Five Points neighbourhood was originally located at the Orange, Anthony and Cross street intersection. The spot at which they met created five “points,” hence the name. Today you can find Columbus Park standing at the place where you’d have once found the old Five Points slums. Back in the 1800s, this place would have been the roughest area of New York City. Police only dared to venture into this part of town in large groups, as they feared the gangs which ran rampant throughout the small enclave.
The area had previously been home to the large Collect Pond. But due to the slaughterhouses that would pour their discarded filth into the pond, the wastewater quickly became contaminated and was a severe pollution problem and environmental health hazard. The pond was filled in to quickly solve the problem. But the job was done poorly. The land quickly became unstable and released methane gas from the buried contamination below. Mosquitoes bred in the contaminated standing water, and diseases spread like wildfire.
Despite all this, there was a growing need for housing, so rickety brick and wood houses were built atop the uneven ground. The houses were unstable and would start to lean and sag at all angles. The only people who could imagine wanting to live here were people that could afford nothing else. Immigrants and the poor were preyed upon by greedy landowners to lease these truly uninhabitable houses. Unemployment, prostitution and violent crimes were the highest in this part of town than anywhere else along the Bowery.
For residents, the only way to deal with these horrible living conditions was to drink their days away. Hence the centre point of the neighbourhood became Coulthard’s Brewery, built on Cross Street in 1792. In the early 19th century, the old Brewery was converted into a tenement and boarding house. Originally, 221 people lived in just 35 tiny apartments. Even the cellars of the old Brewery were used to house tenants. But as more people poured into the Five Points, desperate for inexpensive housing, the landowners simply crowded more and more people inside. At one point, there were over 1,000 men, women and children living inside.
According to historian Herbert Asbury, demolition crews found human bones in the cellars and within the walls. In these cramped rooms, infectious diseases, such as cholera, tuberculosis, typhus, malaria and yellow fever, plagued the residents. Many of New York City’s worst epidemics originated in Five Points. Landlords often tried to hide these dead bodies to not be prosecuted by police due to their gross negligence inside and the overcrowding.
Across the street from the brewery, homes was an aptly named, “Murder Alley.” In the 1850s, there was at least one murder a day here, for over 15 years! Famously, Charles Dickens visited the Five Points on a trip to New York and was horrified by what he saw.
“This is the place: these narrow ways, diverging to the right and left, and reeking everywhere of dirt and filth. . . . Debauchery has made the very houses prematurely old. See how the rotting beams are tumbling down, and how the patched and broken windows seem to scowl dimly, like eyes that have been hurt in drunken frays.”
Charles Dickens
To make matters worse, the area was also home to many of New York’s most violent gangs. They went by names such as the Plug Uglies, Mulberry Men, Kerryonians, the Forty Thieves, the Shirt Tails, and the Chichester’s. In addition to the Dead Rabbits and the Bowery Boys, we heard about before. Joining a gang was a good way to seek protection while also putting yourself in harm’s way.
It’s important to note that originally the idea behind these gangs was not a violent one. Instead, it was a way in which people sought out a community. Irish, Germany, American and Scots wanted to preserve their culture amongst like-minded people. They also found this communal group a means of discussing the crime, poverty and exploitation they often faced. But these gangs hated each other, and large groups of men, incensed by their poor lot in life, can only sit at a boiling point for so long before it all boils over.
After the riots of 1857, the city knew something had to be done about the Five Points slum. So in 1887, the large portion of old tenements at the heart of the Five Points were destroyed. In their place, Columbus Park was built. Today, many people come to the old site of the Five Points after its history came back into the media landscape with Martin Scorsese‘s film Gangs of New York. But the real history of this place is far more interesting and truly an example of the kind of place the Bowery once was. The pretty green trees and playful basketball courts inside Columbus Park are a far cry from the once terrible slums that made this part of town so notorious.
The Five Points is the last stop on our Walking Tour of the Bowery. I hope you’ve enjoyed this thorough guide to one of the most interesting parts of New York City that so many people leave undiscovered. Let me know in the comments what your favourite part of the tour was or what new finds you uncovered along the way!
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