The Big Mansion on the Corner: Crown Heights’ Schwarzmann House

The idea of a magnificent bridge to cross the East River and join Brooklyn and Manhattan was proposed by engineer John Roebling in 1852, but it took until 1869, after the Civil War, for everything to line up and work to start. Completing the bridge took more than a decade thanks to a host of setbacks and problems. It wasn’t completed until 1883 and on opening day, May 24, people were finally able to walk or ride from Brooklyn to Manhattan and back. While this ability had a great effect on both cities, Brooklyn’s development, specifically regarding neighborhoods and housing, is our topic for the day.

The real estate developers of that period were looking forward to the bridge opening and prepared for it by initiating a residential building boom that has never been matched. Improvements in roads, trolley lines, and railroads opened up the city from Brooklyn Heights to the Queens border.

Much of the land belonged to a few Dutch and English families who had been landowners since they settled in Kings County in the late 1600s. For the next 200 years, they intermarried, bought and sold land, and left vast quantities of Brooklyn to their descendants. The largest landowning family was the Lefferts. Two separate branches lived in Brooklyn. The first owned land in Flatbush, the other in nearby Bedford.

The Bedford branch would grow and eventually own most of what is today Crown Heights North and Bedford Stuyvesant. The Lefferts owned thousands of acres, which they farmed, first with slave labor, then with tenant farmers. Some of it was left to nature and used for grazing, lumber, and other purposes.

The town of Bedford was part of the city of Brooklyn, and was an important crossroads community built around the intersection of Fulton Street from east to west and Bedford Avenue from north to south. The Lefferts family mansion, along with the homes of other members of the clan and their private cemetery, was near this intersection. The town of Bedford grew around them, and when the city of Brooklyn was incorporated in 1838, grid maps were drawn that divided all parts of the new city into streets and lots. That didn’t mean anything was necessarily developed at that juncture but gave planners a map for when urbanization commenced.

Beginning in the 1830s, Judge Lefferts Lefferts, the Bedford family patriarch, began selling some of those lots on the far eastern borders of his property. The African American town of Weeksville was established on this land. He and many other landowners realized that the city was expanding, and land would be far more valuable for building than for farming. Judge Lefferts died in 1848, and as soon as the will was settled, his children and relatives began selling large parcels to developers both big and small.

Well before the bridge was completed, savvy speculators and developers knew that easy access via the new bridge would be beneficial to all parties. By 1883, most of Manhattan was built up, and speculators were already moving further uptown into Harlem and Washington Heights, which were still suburban with large country villas. More homes were needed and Brooklyn had plenty of available land and room to grow and was closer to Manhattan’s industry and financial center.

While the older Brooklyn neighborhoods of the Heights, what was then known as South Brooklyn, and Fort Greene were quickly being built up as well, the “new” neighborhoods of Bedford and Park Slope-Prospect Heights were still sparsely settled. Like Clinton and Washington avenues on “the Hill,” much of Bedford was still considered to be “suburban,” and advertised as a fine place for a home that would be a respite from the noise and smells of the city, yet still easily accessible to lower Manhattan via ferry or the bridge.

The neighborhood of Bedford expanded and became Bedford Stuyvesant in the early 20th century. The stretch included the former Lefferts land, and most of today’s Crown Heights North. Early land speculators touted the streets south of Atlantic Avenue as the perfect places to build large homes on large lots. By this time, horse-drawn trolleys traveled up and down Nostrand, Bedford, and Franklin avenues, and the Long Island Railroad stopped at Nostrand and Atlantic avenues.

Post-Civil War insurance maps show sizable suburban villas on just about every block. St. Marks Avenue proved to be very popular, especially between Nostrand and Brooklyn avenues. Even before urban growth at the end of the 19th century, St. Marks between Nostrand and New York avenues had only five or six houses on both sides of the block, with spacious lots separating them.

Photographs and illustrations of these early mansions are rare. When they did appear in the newspapers, the images just didn’t carry over well into the age of microfilm and digitization. However, one house was captured and preserved and now serves as an excellent example of the 1870s Italianate wood framed elegance that formed a gateway to the rest of St. Marks Avenue. Ironically, the photo survived because it was taken for use in a newspaper story heralding the house’s sale and destruction. It was known as the Schwarzmann house, and it sat on a large lot in the northeast corner of Nostrand and St. Marks avenues.

Adolph Schwarzmann: A Career in Publishing

Adolph Schwarzmann was born in Königsberg, Germany in 1838. He came to this country with his family as a young boy. He eventually landed in the printing business, specifically, in the lithograph industry. By 1872 he was working as the shop foreman in commercial printing for Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Weekly. This magazine was one of the tabloid publications of its day and extremely popular. The Weekly covered sensational crimes, disasters, social issues, and other events that were best shared with the public through drawings and woodcuts. Photography was still pretty new, so good artwork that accurately portrayed people and events was a key to success.

At work, Schwarzmann met an Austrian immigrant his age named Joseph Keppler, who was assigned to Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Daily paper, where he was one of the artists. Keppler was from Vienna and was educated at Vienna’s School of Fine Arts. He was very talented and excelled in drawing caricatures. He came to the United States in 1867 and settled in St. Louis, where he spent two years. While there, he tried unsuccessfully to launch two German-language weekly comic magazines. Both failed but his expert talent in caricature was noticed enough that when he came to New York, he was hired by Leslie.

Schwarzmann and Keppler struck up a friendship that turned into a partnership. One of Keppler’s two unsuccessful magazines was called “Puck, an Illustrated weekly.” It was named for Shakespeare’s character Puck, or Robin Goodfellow, the mischievous sprite in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Keppler wanted to bring the magazine back, this time in both German and English.

In 1876 Schwarzmann left Leslie and opened his own print shop. There Puck, the German magazine, was born. The first cover featured the character of Puck drawn by Keppler, who used his young daughter as his model. The tag line that appeared on every cover was the Puck character’s line in the play, “What fools these mortals be.” In 1877, the English version of Puck debuted and was a hit, so much so that the German edition was dropped.

The magazine, like most new entries, had its troubles establishing itself, but its circulation grew quickly and reached 90,000 in the early 1890s. Schwarzmann was the behind-the-scenes partner. He left Keppler to his own devices in choosing topics and creating the art while he supplied the startup money, the printing presses, and expertise.

Puck was always a satirical humor magazine. Its purpose was to skewer the societal mores, and through caricature and other illustrations, draw back the curtain on the rich and powerful. There was certainly a lot of material to work with. Tammany Hall and Republican politics, the public and private actions of ultra-wealthy captains of industry and finance, international events, clothing fads — anything that could be lampooned or satirized, along with theater and concert reviews, short stories, and more.

What set Puck apart was the art. Keppler was a fine artist and an even better caricaturist. He had a keen sense of how to visualize an issue and people it with characters that everyone recognized. The magazine also looked good. Puck offered readers three large cartoons, while other magazines had only one. Their cartoons were lithographs, which were faster to produce and print. The J. Ottman Company printed Puck’s lithographs. Puck introduced color lithography before most publications as well. And the magazine had good comic writers, some of the best.

In March 1885, Schwarzmann, Keppler, and Ottman purchased a plot on the corner of Houston and Mulberry streets In Manhattan. This had been the site of a Catholic convent. This area was now at the edge of Manhattan’s printing district. Many of the loft buildings in the area were originally home to printing companies, publishing houses, and periodical businesses. The Astor Library was at the center of it all.

They commissioned architect Albert Wagner to design a building that would house Schwarzmann’s printing operation, Puck’s offices, and J. Ottman’s lithograph operation. Wagner, who was also a German immigrant, designed a huge brick Romanesque Revival structure. The original building was completed in 1886 and has seven stories and two basements. The ground floor was reserved for retail, the next two floors were offices, and the upper stores were home to the printing plant. In addition to Puck and Ottman, there were several other tenants in the building, most connected in some way to the publishing and printing business. A hat shop took up some of the retail space on the ground floor.

The companies grew and plans were made for an extension to be built next door, beginning in 1892. The new extension was even taller at nine stories and was also designed by Wagner. The two iconic “Puck” statues, one large, one much smaller were sculpted by artist Henry Baerer. A partial demolition and reconfiguring of the building occurred before the extension was built, because the new subway line was going to run underneath the building. The work was completed, and the extension went on as planned.

The building was specially constructed to withstand the load of heavy printing equipment. The original building housed 24 to 30 of Ottman’s printing presses. The Puck offices had artist ateliers, a darkroom, office space, a library, workshop, and reception room. The Puck building was and is considered one of the finest examples of commercial Romanesque Revival architecture. It is a National Register and New York City landmark. It was called the largest building in the world dedicated to the business of lithography and publishing.

The Schwarzmann home in Brooklyn

Running a successful and high-stakes business like a humor and satire magazine in a huge new building must have been stressful. What a pleasure it must have been for Adolph Schwarzmann to come home to his spacious home in Bedford. The house at 691 St. Marks Avenue in what is now Crown Heights was built for William Taylor — The actual date is unknown but, going by the style, sometime in the late 1860s or early 1870s. His widow, Sarah, sold the house to Adolph Schwarzmann in 1880.

The Brooklyn City Directories don’t list him at this address until several years later in 1885. In the interim, his address was listed as 23 Warren Street, which was a warehouse and probably his place of business. Adolph, his wife, Susannah, and son, Adolph Jr., lived here for at least 20 years.

The Schwarzmann house was a two-story clapboard-faced Italianate villa with a three-story tower centered in the front. The main body was boxy, with a large extension on the back. It had two first-floor oriels on the Nostrand side and a side porch on either side of the main entrance in the tower section, the roofs supported by columns and elaborate wooded brackets. A covered balcony opened from the second floor above the entrance. The second floor featured single and double sets of arched windows. The roofline peaked in the center facing Nostrand, with an ocular attic window under a deep cornice with regularly spaced wooden brackets. The extension, by comparison, had a simple cornice. All in all, it was a fine example of the kind of homes that were scattered up and down this eastern side of St. Marks Avenue at Nostrand.

Postcards and photographs of the block are rare. Most of these earlier homes were torn down 15 years later, replaced by even larger stone-clad mansions, so from what little remains we can only surmise that this was one of the finer villas on the block. The house was centered on a large lot at least 30 feet from Nostrand Avenue itself, protected by a low wall and cast-iron fencing. Newspaper reports reveal that the property had large gardens on the eastern side, much admired by the neighbors, and a favorite hobby of Adolph himself.

Nostrand Avenue in the 1880s was not the busy commercial street it is today. Before the blocks of storefront mixed-use buildings were constructed, this and other large mansions were scattered along the avenue in this part of Bedford. The thoroughfare had flats buildings, tenements, and some wood-framed row houses between Atlantic Avenue and Eastern Parkway. The commercialization of the avenue did not begin until the last decade of the 19th century on into the ‘aughts.

Adolph Schwarzmann and family did not appear very often in Brooklyn’s gossip columns, though a family with their wealth would have been welcomed into society. Adolph was probably too busy with Puck to worry about parties and socializing. Society people were often teased and lampooned in his magazine anyway. Whatever the reason, they were quiet on the social scene.

Puck was not partisan, they skewered everyone. They were the ancestors of publications such as Mad Magazine, National Lampoon, and Spy. Schwarzmann was a Democrat and supported Grover Cleveland in his run for the presidency in 1884. He was one of the members of the “Committee of 100,” which was supporting and raising money for their candidate.

St. Marks was growing more upscale as the 19th century drew to a close. With more wealth come those looking to clandestinely relieve people of some of it. In 1887 a burglar broke into the carriage house at the back of the property and stole a coachman’s livery, which was worth $40, not a small sum for most working people. The thief was never apprehended.

Adolph’s partner Joseph Keppler died in 1894. His death was a devastating blow to both families and to the business. Keppler’s son Udo joined the company as an artist in 1891, and took his father’s place after his death, changing his name to Joseph Jr. The magazine juggled its appearance and content for a while as he sorted things out. It didn’t lose popularity and was soon back to its usual high quality artwork and biting satire.

Adolph Schwarzmann died at home in February 1904. He was the president and treasurer of the Puck Publishing Company. His obituary revealed that he had been a member of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York Botanical Gardens, Shelter Island Yacht Club, the New York Yacht Club, the Municipal Art Society, Germania Club of Brooklyn, the Liederkranz Singing Society of New York, and other social and charitable organizations. The funeral was held at the home, officiated by the pastor of the German Evangelical Lutheran Church. He and his family are buried in Evergreens Cemetery in Bushwick, where many in Brooklyn’s German community are buried. His wife, Susannah, died in 1916.

Adolph Jr. took over from his father, joining Joseph Jr. in running the business. World War I caused financial trouble for the company, and being of German extraction probably didn’t help either. They continued to publish Puck until 1917 when they sold it to William Randolph Hearst. The war continued, as did a drop in circulation, and Hearst ceased operations a year later in 1918. The Manhattan building continued to house printing and publishing companies for many decades, and was still the largest building in the trade.

There don’t seem to be any records indicating the family moved out of the St. Marks house after Adolph’s death. The house was sold to developer Sidney Orbach in 1913 and was torn down only months after that. The Brooklyn Eagle published a photograph of the house already demolished to the ground floor level with piles of siding and other wood spilling out onto the former garden. The same article noted that the developer intended to build apartment buildings on the site.

Orbach ended up building one large five-story apartment building on the corner. A ground-floor storefront faces Nostrand Avenue. It was joined by two smaller four-story flats buildings on the large lot, facing St. Marks. All three are handsome light tan brick with a white stone base and ornamental elements. The corner building, now 637 Nostrand Avenue or 731 St. Marks Avenue is the larger and more ornate one. All three are walk-ups and were marketed to a middle-class clientele.

The tenants in the new buildings included a doctor and his wife in 1932, and various tenants were briefly mentioned in the papers over the years, especially in the ’30s, ’40s and ’50s, usually when they died and obituaries and funeral notices were posted. Today, the eastern end of this block of St. Marks Avenue is part of Phase 2 of the Crown Heights North Historic District. The buildings on both sides of the western end were not included, which left out these three buildings. They should have been included as they are fine examples of middle-class apartment buildings from the first three decades of the 20th century.

The Schwarzmann house is long gone. But a very clear photograph remains, revealing what was lost to an expanding and ever-changing neighborhood. The rest of Nostrand Avenue changed as well and in no way resembles the suburban street of the late 19th century. The photograph is a lasting reminder of the rich history of the neighborhood.

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