Throop Avenue Presbyterian Church -- Brooklyn History
Throop Avenue Presbyterian Church. Photo via nycago.org

Read Part 1 and Part 3 of this story.

January of 1890 saw another new year arriving in Brooklyn. All was normal; winter lay upon the city, but, as always, people were going about their business.

In the Eastern District, a new church was being built for the growing congregation of the Throop Avenue Presbyterian congregation, under the leadership of their popular pastor, the Rev. Lewis R. Foote. The history of the church was told in Chapter One of this story. Nine days into that year, tragedy struck with the force of a tornado.

Construction of the new building was under the charge of William and Thomas Lamb, master builders who had many of Brooklyn and Manhattan’s finest late Victorian-era buildings to their credit. They were highly sought out, had a great reputation, and by the time they were working on the church, had been building for almost three decades.

They were the builder of choice for many of Brooklyn’s finest architects, and had worked with Montrose Morris, the Parfitt Brothers, Rudolf Daus, George Morse, and many other well-known architectural firms in the city.

This church had been designed by the firm of Fowler & Hough. Halsted P. Fowler and William Hough were both experienced architects, and had been working together and individually in Brooklyn for many years. The church they had designed for Throop Ave. Presbyterian was beautiful; a Romanesque Revival style brick church, with wide archways and a tall corner tower.

Although it was winter, from all accounts it had been cold and clear, so that brick laying and building was able to go on, as per usual. Also as per usual, the walls of the church were rising all around from a stone foundation. They were several layers of brick thick, and were supported by wooden braces and scaffolding.

Shortly after midnight on January 9th, a winter gale which had picked up force across Lake Ontario and gathered strength as it blew through upstate New York was ready to expel its fury on New York City.

Had this happened today, we would have been prepared, with 24/7 weather reports warning us as the storm passed through every town on its way south.

As it was, the people of that day may have been weather wise enough to sense a storm, but they had no idea what was coming. The gale-force winds hit the city in the middle of the night.

In a small wood-framed house next door to the church, the family of Mrs. Sarah Mott was awakened by the sound and force of the wind. Mrs. Mott, her two adult daughters and three teenage grandchildren all got dressed and sat in their parlor as the wind rattled the shutters, beat against the windows and shook the little house.

Their border, a young man named Robert Poole, was asleep upstairs in his room. As the night went on, the winds ebbed and flowed. When they died down, the family relaxed, and dozed off. Then the wind would pick up again, and they would awaken, sure that the hurricane force winds would blow them away.

About 4:30 in the morning, the winds picked up again, fiercer than ever. But by this time, the family was asleep. They had gone back to their beds. They never knew that their worst fears would be realized. The wind gathered around the unfinished walls of the church and ripped the back wall from the foundation.

It picked it up and flung tons of brick, stone, wood and mortar down on the roof of the Mott house next door. Later, a witness would testify that the wall didn’t simply fall over on the house, it looked more as if a giant had picked up the wall, stood over the little wood framed house, and hurled the wall on top of it in a fit, like a petulant child.

The debris tore through the house, ripping it to shreds. In a matter of minutes, the house was totally destroyed and a household was dead or dying. A watchman named John Moore had been making his rounds and saw the whole thing.

He said he it was just turning light enough to see, and he had been looking towards the house. A light from the top floor caught his attention and he could see the walls of the church, which towered over the three story frame house.

The wind picked up, and as he sheltered himself against a building, he could see the walls of the church swaying back and forth. Just as he thought to himself that they were going to fall, he said the wall just rose and collapsed on top of the house.

He ran to the site, but couldn’t do anything but witness the horror. The crash was like an explosion, and neighbors poured from their homes to see the ruined walls of the church, and the disaster that was the Mott house.

The house had split open, like a doll house. People could clearly see the dead body of Miss Mary Purdy, horribly crushed beneath tons of rubble. Someone had called the police, and within 20 minutes, a dozen police officers and the fire department had arrived on the scene, and they began searching for survivors in the rubble.

They first found young Emma Purdy on her bed, crushed beneath bricks and wood. She was still alive, but only barely. She was taken out and rushed to the hospital. They next found Robert Poole. He was also still alive, but badly hurt.

They recovered the body of Mary Purdy, mangled and torn, which was wrapped and laid out on the sidewalk in the blankets she had slept in. She was only 18, and had been engaged to be married in March. Mrs. Purdy’s third child, 17 year old Caroline, was also found, injured, but alive.

Fourteen year old David Purdy was found, alive on the couch. He died moments later. He had been asphyxiated by gas fumes as he lay trapped by debris. 75 year old Sarah Mott was found in severe shock but only slightly injured.

45 year old Sarah Mott, her daughter, suffered injuries to her face and head, Mrs. Samuel Purdy, the other adult daughter and the teenagers’ mother, was also injured, and in shock.

The only reason the three women had not been more injured or dead is because at the last minute, they had taken cover underneath the dining room table, which had protected them enough to keep them alive. Rescuers found them under the table, which was itself buried in rubble.

The two dead children were taken away to the coroner’s office, some of the family went to the hospital, and the rest were taken in by neighbors. Reverend Foote visited them all and offered support. The next day, investigators started sifting through the wreckage.

They were astonished to find out that three gas fixtures had been on at the time of the disaster. The force of the destruction had extinguished the gas, except for the leak that had killed young David Purdy. It was a miracle that the entire building had not gone up in flames in addition to the other damage.

The Mott house was totally destroyed. Investigators said it looked as if it had exploded. There was nothing left but wooden beams and debris, and tons of bricks. The back of the house had crashed into the extension of the house next door, destroying it.

The owners of that house were not hurt, as they too had been up all night, and were not in that room at the time, although they were also quite shaken up and upset. The church walls were also structurally unsound, and would have to come down, and the building started over.

And then the finger pointing began. Was this a horrible accident and an act of nature that could not have been prevented? Or were the building’s contractors and architects to blame? The coroner would hold an inquest, and an investigation would take place. The results of that inquiry and the future of the Throop Avenue Presbyterian Church will be told in Thursday’s conclusion.

Image from postcard found on eBay

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