Daytonian in Manhattan

Kurtzer & Rohl's 1892 338 East 5th Street

2026-09-09T04:00:00.000-04:00

photograph by Carole Teller

Born in Germany, August Ruff was responsible for erecting dozens of apartment buildings before his death in 1921, often hiring two countrymen--Frederick William Kurtzer and Richard O. L. Rohl--to design the structures. On October 29, 1891, Ruff purchased the five-story mineral water factory at 338 and 340 East 5th Street for $42,000. Within a month, Kurtzer & Rohl filed plans for two "five-story brick flats" on the site. The construction cost of each would be $18,000, bringing Ruff's total outlay for the project to about $2.85 million in 2026 terms.

The architects drew from a grab bag of styles in designing 338 East 5th Street (which was a close match to 340). The undressed brownstone bands that alternated with planar stone at the first floor were Romanesque Revival inspired; but the skillfully carved square, engaged Corinthian columns that flanked the entrance were purely Renaissance Revival in style. The latter style made an encore in the carved panels between the first and second floors, the Corinthian capitals of the double-height piers of the third and fourth floors, and in the terminal cornice.

Decades of paint have obscured the once-crisp, expertly executed carvings. photograph by Carole Teller

The brick-faced upper floors were trimmed in terra cotta and brownstone. A blend of neo-Grec and Queen Anne, the latter appeared in honeycomb brick panels. Ornate terra cotta tympana decorated the top floor windows.

The four apartments per floor--two in the front and two in the rear--were rented to working class families. While wealthy families uptown feted their daughters with debutante dances and sent their sons off to Columbia or Harvard University, the families of 338 East 5th Street sent their children to work.

Among the early residents was the Levy family. Fanny Levy, like hundreds of young women in the neighborhood, worked in a clothing factory. In the fall of 1895, the cloakmakers' union went on strike. On November 8, Fanny joined "a mob of women and girls" who assembled in front of A. F. Hochstaders' cloak factory at 84 Greene Street to protest non-union workers.

According to the New York Herald, this protest was one of several that were made up mostly of women. The article said, "It is now believed that their participation is encouraged by the leaders of the strike, on the supposition that the police will deal more gently with women rioters than with men." Several of the protests devolved to "riots," including the one on Greene Street. The New York Herald reported that the strikers "made a furious attack on both non-union men and women when they came to work," adding, "Some of the women tore the whiskers of the men and others made a rush for the non-union girls and tore their clothes and pulled their hair." Four women were arrested, including Fanny Levy, who was fined $10 (about $386 today).

Living here as early as 1895 were Gustave Hammer and his wife, Louisa. That spring, according to Hammer, Stanley Glass visited their apartment "and told him of a wonderful secret a friend of his possessed," recounted the New-York Tribune on September 19, 1895. Glass told the couple that his friend was an alchemist, "and with a little brass, some copper, a few platinum filings and the wonderful secret could procure any amount of gold." The problem, of course, was funding the process. The New-York Tribune reported, "Hammer and his wife became interested and consented to go into the business."

Glass took Hammer to meet M. Pearlman, who not only "claimed to be able to turn common metals into pure gold, but said they could make gold swell itself until ounces of it grew into pounds." The gullible Gustave Hammer invested $250 in the venture. And, not surprisingly, the gold was not manifested.

In September, Gustave had Stanley Glass arrested "for swindling." According to Louisa Hammer, "Mary Pearlman, wife of the alchemist, had sought to have the case dropped by offering various sums of money, beginning with $50 and getting up to $100," reported the New-York Tribune. In the meantime, the "alchemist" had skipped town.

The following year, another resident, Mamie Roberts, was scammed. Starting in September 1896, William Doyle placed advertisements searching for "chorus girls to take out on the road in two theatrical companies which he said he was forming," reported the New York Herald. They said that successful applicants would receive "good pay and steady employment." Hundreds of young women, including Mamie Roberts, answered the ads. As it turned out, William Doyle was both a scammer and a molester. The "interviews" were held at Doyle's office--his bedroom in a Sixth Avenue house.

The New York Herald reported on November 15:

Many of them went there and upon his demand, they say, allowed themselves to be measured for costumes. Doyle had samples of tights in his room and undertook, they say, to furnish costumes.

In each case, after the applicants had tried on the tights, they were hired. Doyle told them he would order their costumes. The women were charged $2 each for "registration on the books of the company" and $10 for a pair of tights. He promised to deliver the costumes at the first rehearsal.

An excited Mamie Roberts and around 100 others crowded into an Eighth Avenue music hall for rehearsal at 8:00 on the night of November 14. The New York Herald reported, "Doyle did not appear, and as new squads of women kept arriving during the evening some of the would-be chorus girls became suspicious." At 10:00 a few women went to the manager who told them that Doyle had not paid for the hall.

Doyle and his "clerk" were arrested on Eighth Avenue later that night. The next morning Mamie Roberts was one of the throng of women who appeared to testify against Doyle in the Jefferson Market Police Court.

The Ginging family lived in a rear apartment on the fourth floor as early as 1902. The Gingings had two young adult children, a son (who had served in the Spanish-American War) and a daughter. Annie Ginging worked in a Lower East Side necktie factory "from ten to fourteen hours every day," according to The Evening World. Annie's parents were rigidly strict, the newspaper saying, "Her mother kept close watch over her and refused to allow her to join the diversions of the other girls of the neighborhood."

On Saturday February 7, 1903, Annie went to Harlem to visit her aunt. The Evening World said, "There was dancing and it was late when Annie reached her home." Waiting up for her was Annie's mother, who "reproved her in no gentle language. The father added his protests."

All day long on Sunday, according to the newspaper, Annie's parents berated her behavior. When Annie got up to go to work on Monday, her mother started in again. Annie had already put on her coat to leave when she finally snapped, "If you don't quit talking about this I'll kill myself."

Annie's mother replied that her daughter would be better "dead than going to dances," and walked out of the room.

Annie Ginging climbed out of the kitchen window onto the fire escape and then waited for her mother to return. When she did, Annie said, "Come here. I am going to kill myself." As her mother rushed to the window, Annie flung herself from the fire escape.

The Evening World reported, "Mrs. Ginging, peering through the fire escape, saw the flight of her daughter through the air and heard the sound of the body striking." After striking several clothes lines, Annie hit the pavement on her head and was instantly killed.

On June 15, 1904, Kate Metteer and her six children boarded The General Slocum, a 235-foot steam sidewheeler chartered by St. Mark's Evangelical Lutheran Church for a day trip up the East River. Around 10:00, as the vessel entered the treacherous Hell Gate section of the East River, fire broke out below deck, quickly reaching a locker filled with gasoline and other flammable liquids. Panic ensued as the flames broke through the deck. The life boats were stuck to the side, having been painted in place. Pandemonium broke out as children jumped or were tossed into the river, some sucked under in the turbulent Hells Gate eddies, others pulled into the side wheels and beaten to death.

Kate Metteer and her six children were among the throngs on the General Slocum, seen here just after setting off from the East River pier. New York's Awful Excursion Boat Horror, 1904 (copyright expired)

Kate Metteer later told investigators:

I was sitting on the upper deck with the two smaller children and the others were playing around the boat. When I heard the cry of "fire!" I yelled for my children. They ran to me, and I told them to stay near me and they would be saved. I climbed over the railing, holding the baby tight in my arm. Somebody loosened my hold on the stanchion. At that time a tug came alongside and I fell right on its deck with the baby in my arms. The other children called after me, but when I looked up they had disappeared. I was taken to North Brother Island and from there came home. I got word William was in the Lebanon Hospital. I can only hope my other children are saved.

The "baby" that Kate Metteer had held onto was three-year-old George. William, who was four years old, was, indeed, in the Lebanon Hospital, as was his sister, 15-year-old Elsie. Tragically, Albert, Robert and Frederick, 11, 10, and 8 years old respectively, were lost.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Not all of the tenants, of course, were hard-working and respectable. Living here in 1911 were John Palismo and Morris Horowitz. In the early hours of April 1 that year, they and three other men came across Charles Herman, who was a baker and lived across the street. The New York Press reported, "Two of them beat him while the others were robbing him." (The five thugs would have had a difficult task in dividing their spoils. Herman only had a single dollar bill and some change on him.)

Herman's cries attracted Detectives Hooker and Ransberg. They ran down and arrested four of the men, including Palismo and Morris. The other culprit escaped.

By the end of the century, the East 5th Street neighborhood was seeing change. Trendy shops and cafes opened on the avenues and in 2001, Jason Tang and Maki Kawasaki opened the tang kawasaki studio in 338 East 5th Street.

Jason Tang and Maki Kawasaki were both born in 1977, Tang in Vancouver, Canada and Kawasaki in Kobe, Japan. They met while studying architecture at Cornell University. In their studio, they worked together on interior design, furniture design, and architectural commissions.

Even the heavily-carved entrance doors, painted today, with their interesting basket-weave panels survive after nearly 135 years. photograph by Carole Teller

Other than replacement windows and layers of paint on the basement and first floor masonry, Kurtzer & Rohl's tenement design survives remarkably intact.

many thanks to artist Carole Teller for suggesting this post

The Theodore and Florence Sutro House - 320 West 102nd Street

2026-09-08T04:00:00.000-04:00

image via streeteasy.com

Alonzo B. Kight began his career in 1891, acting as both real estate developer and architect. The 1898 A History of Real Estate, Building and Architecture in New York City said that, perhaps, no other architect had "accomplished so much for the general appearance" of the Upper West Side. The article noted that he worked "generally west of West End avenue."

In 1896, Kight filed plans for a trio of limestone-faced dwellings on West 102nd Street between Riverside and West End Avenues. Like his other projects, the speculative homes would be targeted at wealthy owners. The cost to construct each was projected at $25,000, or just under $990,000 in 2026.

The homes were completed in 1897. Kight designed the 20-foot-wide American basement residences in the Renaissance Revival style. (American basement plans forewent the high stoops of the waning English basement plan.) Like its architectural siblings, the westernmost house, 320 West 102nd Street, was five stories tall. A faceted, three-story bay provided a balcony to the fourth floor. Balustraded faux balconies clung to the corners of the second floor and another fronted the center windows of the third. The grouped and paired windows of the top two floors sat within molded surrounds.

When the Real Estate Record & Guide published this rendering on April 10, 1897, it noted that 320 West 102nd Street was "recently sold." (copyright expired)

Attorney and financier Theodore B. Sutro and his wife, the former Florence Edith Clinton, purchased 320 West 102nd Street in March 1897. The price, according to The New York Times, was "about $40,000." (The figure would translate to about $1.6 million today.) Born in Germany, Sutro was brought to America by his parents at the age of five. He graduated from Harvard College in 1871 and from the Columbia Law School in 1873.

Theodore Sutro, Schlegel's German-American Families in the United States, 1917 (copyright expired)

Florence Clinton Sutro, born in England in 1865, was (astonishingly for the period) also a lawyer, as well as an artist and accomplished musician. A prodigy, she had won the $1,000 first prize for her piano playing of Franz Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 at the age of 12, and was the first woman to graduate with a doctorate of music from the Grand Conservatory of New York. Her paintings were regularly exhibited at the National Academy of Design. She graduated valedictorian of the 1891 class of the City College of New York where she received her law degree. Two years prior to the Sutros' purchasing 320 West 102nd Street, she wrote Women in Music and Law.

Florence Clinton Sutro, Schlegel's German-American Families in the United States, 1917 (copyright expired)

Florence Sutro's involvement with art and music interfered with her decorating of the new mansion. On June 20, 1897, the New-York Tribune reported that the Music Teachers' National Association had established its first woman's department. The association's president, Herbert Wilber Greene, asked Florence "to take charge of the new department." The article said:

Mrs. Sutro, who was preparing to move into her beautiful new house at No. 320 West One-hundred-and-second-st., at first thought it would be impossible for her to undertake the work; but the request was repeated with such urgency that she consented, and is putting off the furnishing of her house as much as possible until afterward.

Of course, Florence did get around to furnishing the home. It was soon filled with costly furniture and an impressive collection of art, including historic marine paintings by Edward Moran.

Two views of the foyer with its marble floor and groined ceiling. images via Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

Entertainments in the Sutro residence were frequent. One early gathering was especially important for the couple. On October 3, 1899, The New York Times reported, "Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Sutro celebrated their crystal wedding Sunday by giving an afternoon and evening reception." The article said, "The gifts were numerous, and several hundred friends called to pay their respects to the couple."

An article in The New York Times on April 22, 1900 announced that Florence had given her last "at home" for the winter season. It gave a hint of the couple's recurrent entertaining. "For the past seven months Mr. and Mrs. Sutro have been entertaining on Wednesdays. Mrs. Sutro has given several small dances, and the young people of the upper west side have enjoyed these occasions."

The dining room (top) and breakfast room. images via Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

Florence's last at home (the days on which a socialite was available for receiving calls) that was mentioned in The New York Times article had everything to do with the end of the winter social season. Like all wealthy New Yorkers, the Sutros left the city in the warm months. At the end of the summer social season of 1901, for instance, The New York Press announced:

Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Sutro, after a sojourn in the maritime provinces of Canada, Bar Harbor, Rangeley Lakes, Poland Springs, Maine and Lenox, have returned to their city residence, No. 320 West 102d street, for the winter.

The Sutros were active patrons of the arts and every social gathering in their home had elaborate music. On March 23, 1902, for instance, the New-York Tribune reported on Florence's recent at home, saying she "was assisted in a delightful musical programme by Giuseppe Aldo Randegger, Miss Tilden, Miss Beatrice Eberhard, Mrs. Ernest L. Thibault, Edard J. Calthrop, F. Howard Warner, John P. Boruff, Mrs. Silas G. Pratt and Lewis Williams." The article was quick to point out, "This was not a special at home, but was one of Mrs. Sutro's regular days."

An informal sitting room. Notice the handsome arched pocket doors in the background and the interesting wicker furniture. The upright piano was one of several pianos throughout the house, including one in a guest room. image via Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

As early as 1905, Theodore's unmarried niece, Edyth Martyn, lived with the Sutros. In reporting on Florence's recent "delightful Washington's Birthday reception," the New-York Tribune remarked on February 26, 1905, "Mrs. Sutro was assisted in receiving by her husband and Miss Edyth Martyn."

The drawing room had a painted and stenciled ceiling. image via Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

In September 1905, Florence became ill. In January, Theodore took her to Hot Springs, Virginia "for the baths," according to The Evening World. On February 12, the newspaper reported that she "lies dangerously ill in the John Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore, to which she was taken...by Mr. Sutro yesterday to be operated upon for violent pleurisy." Astonishingly, said the newspaper, "She has been operated upon four times to relieve her lungs of the accumulation of water, and is now very nearly exhausted."

Somewhat off topic, The Evening World noted, "Mr. and Mrs. Sutro have an ideal home...where Mrs. Sutro has entertained the famous men and women of two hemispheres."

Florence was brought back to 320 West 102nd Street where she died "of pleurisy and a complication of diseases" on April 27, 1906. Newspapers filled columns with her achievements, her talents, and her numerous positions.

The funeral was held in the mansion on April 30. The details had been planned by Florence herself five years earlier prior to an operation. She had written in part, "it would be pleasant if I could contemplate a string orchestra, with an organ and a harp to play for the last obsequies, and that some living woman should sing a solo." Her body was dressed in the "the gown Mrs. Sutro had worn as a bride," said the New-York Tribune. Florence Sutro would be posthumously disappointed in one detail. The New York Times reported, "Mrs. Sutro had desired that Miss Adele Rafter and Miss Emma Thursby should sing at her funeral, but they were unable to be present."

Edyth Martyn took over the duties of the mistress of her uncle's residence. She became a heroine, as well, on the night of February 18, 1908. The Evening World reported that a fire from an overturned lamp in Theodore Sutro's bedroom quickly grew. When the flames "spread to the bedclothing, Miss Martin [sic] ran in, smothered the flaming sheets with blankets and carried water with which to completely extinguish the fire."

In 1912, Theodore Sutro was ready to walk away from his mansion and the magnificent artworks and furnishings he had accumulated with his wife. The New York Times reported on March 17 that he intended to sell the house, giving "the purchaser the privilege of buying any part or all of the furnishings."

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Instead, Sutro moved to 416 West 118th Street and leased the West 102nd Street mansion. Franklin Haines and his family were his first tenants. Born in 1862, Haines married Frances Way in 1885 and they had three children, Dallas Way, Marion, and Margaret Dallas. Dallas Way Haines graduated from Columbia University in 1913.

The family was still here in October 1919 when Franklin and Frances announced Marion's engagement to Hewitt White Rundle.

Theodore Sutro continued to lease 320 West 102nd Street until his death at the age of 82 on August 28, 1927. In reporting his demise, The New York Times described him as "one of the leading German-born citizens of New York."

The Alpearl Realty Company purchased 320 West 102nd Street in 1928 and leased it to Ladislaus Rogasky in 1929. The house was sold a few times before Arthur Holland sold it in December 1946. The New York Times remarked, "The new owner is altering the building into small apartments."

photograph by Deansfa

The first and second floors were converted to the Barbara Smith Nursery School, and the upper floors to one apartment each. The configuration lasted until 2012 when 320 West 102nd Street was reconverted to a single family home.

The Lost Prisco State Bank - 73 Mulberry Street

2026-09-07T04:00:00.000-04:00

photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Born in Italy in 1876, Raffaele Prisco arrived in New York City in 1901, "a penniless immigrant," as recalled by The New York Times decades later. He and his wife had three sons, Henry, George W., and Joseph.

Prisco found success in his new homeland and on July 13, 1914 he founded the Prisco Bank, a private institution. His work within the Italian immigrant community had led the Government of Italy to make him a Chevalier of the Crown of Italy and he proudly signed the state's paperwork, "C. R. Prisco," or Chevalier Raffaele Prisco. George W. and Joseph W. Prisco became vice-presidents of the Prisco Bank, while Henry pursued a law career.

Prisco gained additional popularity within the community by conspicuous acts. That was the case on November 4, 1926 when he "created a small riot in Mulberry Street by throwing handfuls of new dimes to hundreds of children who had gathered in the street outside his bank," reported The New York Times. The article said it was Prisco's way of celebrating Alfred E. Smith's re-election as Governor.

In the meantime, in their private lives Prisco and his sons exhibited much less attractive attributes. Raffaele was closely allied to Tammany Hall and became a close ally of Benito Mussolini. It was George, however, who first showed a dark side. In 1918 he was tried twice for assaulting a 16-year-old girl and acquitted both times. Her mother, Elizabeth Schroeder, won a $5,132.10 decision in a civil suit two years later. (It was a major win for the girl, equal to more than $82,000 today.)

George married his wife, Grace, on June 2, 1920. The bride quickly discovered that she was in an abusive relationship. Charging "cruel and inhuman treatment," she filed for separation seven months later, on January 25, 1921. She told the judge in part:

I was compelled to wear two old skirts previously worn by my mother-in-law. I had to wear my husband's socks. I had no coat, so I wore one given to me by my mother-in-law. It was thirteen years old.

My husband left me alone at night to take other girls on motor trips. He refused to take me with him to Cuba when he went on November 20, 1920. He ordered me not to laugh. He refused to speak English in my presence.

George, additionally, told Grace that he had a girlfriend and once woke her up simply to tell her that he was in love with that woman.

Joseph Prisco was in the news three months later. He and his chauffeur, James Whitcroft, offered a ride to two school teachers, Marjorie Foster and Leonore Nornelle. The women testified that Whitcroft drove them "to a lonely neighborhood in Flatlands" and the two men made physical advances. "The young women jumped out of the auto," reported The Evening World on April 27, 1921. Prisco and Whitcroft were arrested. "Prisco put up bail for himself and the chauffeur," said the article.

In 1923, Raffaele Prisco commissioned the architectural firm of Koch & Wagner to design an impressive bank building at 73 Mulberry Street. Costing $40,000 to erect (about $753,000 in 2026 terms), the marble-faced, neo-Classical-style edifice was completed in 1924. It featured a bronze entranceway within a column-flanked arch that echoed Classical Roman triumphal arches. (The building was strikingly similar to C. P. H. Gilbert's Italian Savings Bank on East 116th Street, erected the previous year.)

Koch & Wagner's design was remarkably similar to C.P.H. Gilbert's Italian Savings Bank (above), erected a year earlier. photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

On February 20, 1924, The New York Times reported on the bank's formal opening. "Raffaele Prisco escorted [Police] Commissioner Richard E. Enright and the other newly elected directors through the premises," said the article.

Suspiciously, the day after the Prisco Bank building opened, "a rumor whispered over the telephone," as reported by The New York Times, caused a run on the Italian Savings Bank on East 116th Street. "Throughout the afternoon the bank officials were kept busy explaining that the bank was solvent and that there was no reason for the report of failure," said the article. The panicked depositors withdrew their savings and rushed downtown to 73 Mulberry Street.

The New York Times reported on February 22, "police of the Oak Street Station were called to restrain would-be depositors who wanted to put their money in the Prisco Bank...About 2,000 depositors were added to the bank's clients yesterday. Many were peddlers. The deposits ranged from $50 to $1,000."

The article noted, "The bank is soon to be organized as a State bank." That took place in August 1924 and bronze letters announcing "Prisco State Bank" were installed under the "Prisco Bank" name carved into the marble parapet.

On June 14, 1925, Raffaele Prisco sailed to Italy, "to establish a branch bank in Naples," said The New York Times. His wife and son George accompanied him on the voyage. Standing on the pier to send them off was a group of officials that included Richard Enright, Congressman Fiorello La Guardia, and at least two judges, Rueben Haskell and John P. Cohalan.

The article mentioned, "Mr. Prisco expects to meet Premier Mussolini, whom he has known for many years," adding, "He plans to erect a monument at Giuseppe, his native village, near Naples, to the soldiers who died in the war."

Workers clean Mulberry Street in front of the bank in 1927. from the collection of the New York Public Library

George Prisco's disturbing treatment of his first wife paled in comparison to the abuse his second wife, Marie, suffered. George married the 20-year-old in October 1925. Three months later, at 2:00 on the morning of November 10, Prisco telephoned the night clerk of the Hotel St. George in Brooklyn, "asking him to send a physician to Room 593, where his wife had been injured in an accident." The house physician rushed up to find Marie bleeding from a gunshot in the abdomen.

A terrified Marie told police that George had been in the bathroom and his pistol was on the dresser. She said, "in moving it to one side it had slipped to the floor and gone off." It was not long before officials debunked the couple's story. Three weeks later, District Attorney Charles J. Dodd asserted that medical examinations proved that the injury "could not have been self-inflicted and that Mrs. Prisco's dress was scorched, indicating that the pistol must have been fired at close range."

George Prisco had disappeared and the family "professed ignorance" as to his whereabouts, reported The New York Times on November 17. Marie Prisco told reporters, "I'm so sorry I made the mistake of marrying him. He's not worth talking about."

On August 28, 1931, Superintendent of Banks Joseph A. Broderick closed the Prisco State Bank upon the discovery of "embezzlements totaling about $130,000," reported The New York Times. The defalcation would turn out to be slightly more.

Joseph W. Prisco fled Manhattan. He was arrested in Ocean Grove, New Jersey on August 7. The New York Times reported that he faced "three indictments [that] accuse him of taking $133,000." Raffaele Prisco had already been arrested for the embezzlement and "in connection with the disappearance of $17,000 in Italian Government bonds placed in the bank for safe-keeping." Little by little, additional fraudulent dealings and missing funds were discovered by investigators.

Push cart vendors lined the curb in front of the bank. from the collection of the New York Public Library

On August 3, 1931, a reader of the Daily Worker vented his wrath in a letter to the editor. It started saying, "Just a few lines to expose the capitalist crooks." He noted, "The majority of the poorest Italian people had money in this bank" and went on to say, in part:

Three months ago a friend of mine sent $29 to his sick father in Tauroso, Italy, through this bank, but no money has been received as yet. A month after the depositing of this money in the Prisco Bank, my friend went to the bank to protest against the money not being forwarded. The officials of the bank told my friend that a mistake had been made, but that the money would be sent at once by telegram. Three months have passed now and no money has been received by the sick father. How many people have lost their money in the same way would be hard to say, but we can safely say that there have been many.

On February 17, 1932, Raffaele Prisco was sentenced to no less than three years in the penitentiary and Joseph W. Prisco to up to five years. Henry Prisco was in the courtroom during the sentencing. He stood up, pointed toward a group of lawyers standing near the judge and blurted, "I'll get you fellows!" As Henry was being hustled out of the courtroom, he turned to his brother's and father's attorney, Caesar B. F. Barra, and shouted, "I'll get you, too, Barra!"

The marble bank building sat vacant for another eight years. It was demolished in 1940--just 16 years after opening--to be replaced by a two-story brick store-and-apartment building.

photograph via traveladvisor.com