The “orphan asylums” all over Manhattan

There sure were a lot of orphanages in Manhattan in the late 19th century. I counted 20 in King’s Handbook of New York City, from 1892.

Some were founded by nonsectarian organizations; others by religious orders.

All sound pretty heartbreaking—but at the time, they were progressive institutions where orphans and “half-orphans” could live, go to school, and learn a trade rather than fall victim to the streets.

The Hebrew Orphan Asylum (above), a colossal home on Amsterdam Avenue and 136th Street that housed 1,000 kids, opened in 1822.

It was “where Hebrew orphans and indigent boys and girls are sheltered and educated,” states King’s.

The Roman Catholic Orphan Asylum opened this home (right) for girls in 1870.It’s on Madison Avenue and 51st Street; the boys building is down the block at Fifth Avenue.

“In both the boys’ and girls’ departments, provision is made for the technical instruction of the inmates,” says King’s. “The work is carried on with a thoroughness which is characteristic of the Catholic Church in other directions.”

At right is a sketch of the St. Joseph’s Asylum, at 89th Street and what was then known as Avenue A (today’s York Avenue).

I think it’s the same orphanage called St. Ann’s Home for Destitute Children in King’s, as the address is the same.

King’s describes it as “a large and cheerful edifice with accommodations for nearly 300 inmates.”

Below is the third incarnation of the Colored Orphan Asylum, first opened in 1837 on Sixth Avenue and 12th Street.

The orphanage moved to bigger digs on Fifth Avenue and 43rd Street—but that building was burned to the ground during the Draft Riots of 1863, one of the city’s most shameful moments. (None of the kids were hurt.)

The orphanage moved uptown to 143rd Street, shown here in 1874.

[All photos: NYPL Digital Gallery]

Did the Underground Railroad stop in Chelsea?

The underground Railroad didn’t skip New York City.

Safe havens for runaway slaves existed in Brooklyn—such as Brooklyn Heights’ Plymouth Church. And the John Bowne House, in Flushing, was also rumored to have been a hideout.

But in Manhattan, the only known Underground Railroad site that still exists is the row house at 339 West 29th Street (Ivy-covered in 1932).

Built in the 1840s on what was then called Lamartine Place, number 339 was owned by James S. Gibbons and his staunch abolitionist wife, Abigail Hopper Gibbons.

According to the Landmarks Preservation Committee Report that declared the house and its neighbors the Lamartine Historic District:

“In his memoirs, the American lawyer and diplomat Joseph Hodges Choate who was a friend of the Gibbons family recollects dining with the Gibbons and a fugitive slave at No. 339 in 1855, citing the residence as a stop on the Underground Railroad.”

No. 339 (in the center, under scaffolding and a new facade) was also attacked and burned in the 1863 Draft Riots, when roving mobs of New Yorkers upset about new draft laws killed African-Americans.

A house with history like that can’t escape scrutiny—which is probably why the city ordered the current owner to tear down the illegal fifth floor that was recently added.

The East Village, aka “Mackerelville”

Mackerelville—isn’t that an illustrious name? Centered at First Avenue and 11th Street, it was the mid–19th century term for today’s East Village.

And you know with a name like that—a mackerel was slang for a procurer or pimp—it had to be an awful place to live.

Second only to the legendary Five Points district in poverty, Mackerelville was a hotbed of gangs, gin mills, and other social ills, as this New York Times letter, from December 17, 1858, explains.

Other articles refer to Mackerelville’s “cholera heaps” and “uneducated denizens.” By the 1870s, it seems, the name was on the outs.

“The locality where the children will be taken from was once well known as Mackerelville, and consists of several squares of tenement buildings, all densely crowded with poor families,” reports an 1873 New York Times article about a charity boat trip.