Category Archives: Albany

Gloeckner & Co. Furniture

Published by:

Gloeckner Furniture.jpg

Another glorious billhead from the Biggert Collection, this one from B. Gloeckner & Co., Inc., a furniture dealer at 81-83 South Pearl St. in Albany. It would appear that on Feb. 24, 1915, Mr. J.H Vrooman, Jr. of 294 Hamilton Street bought a refrigerator (#942) for the princely sum of $28.00.

In 1870, the firm of Gloeckner & Wolf, at 115 S. Pearl St., were listed as manufacturers and retailers of furniture, “their stock of Mattresses, Spring and Feather Beds is of the best quality.”

According to the Albany Rural Cemetery’s site, Bernard Gloeckner was born in 1842 in Darmstadt, Germany. He came to the U.S. and served in the Civil War at age 19. He later was chairman of a committee to raise funds for a monument to Civil War General Adolph von Steinwehr at the cemetery. Gloeckner died in 1911 and is buried in the cemetery.

The building, sadly, is long-gone, but was most likely right around Market Street, where the South Mall Expressway construction took out a couple of blocks of once-vital business district.

Here’s an ad from Gloeckner and Wolf in the 1870 Albany directory:

Gloeckner and Wolf ad.png

Fort Orange Milling Company

Published by:

Fort Orange Milling Co.jpg

Rather than a billhead or a receipt, this specimen from The Biggert Collection is a sight draft, a term that has fallen out of favor but which was essentially a check that was payable immediately (rather than at a future date certain), or “at sight.” This was made out to the Loomis Bros. of Granby, Connecticut, for $341.09 to be charged to the account of the Fort Orange Milling Co., a flour roller mill operation on the riverfront. It was signed by Charles B. Woolverton, a member of the firm, June 4, 1890.

A little more than two years later, Mr. Woolverton would be terribly burned in an explosion and fire that brought down the Fort Orange Milling Company on Dec. 19, 1892. As The New York Times reported:

At 12:30 o’clock this afternoon a terrific explosion occurred in the elevator shaft of the Fort Orange Milling Company’s building backing up on the Erie Canal basin. The sparks set fire to the dry grain and flour. In an instant the blaze rushed up the shaft, and before an alarm was sent in the entire structure was a mass of flames. Charles B. Woolverton, a member of the firm, was in the office at the time, and when the explosion occurred started for the rear of the office to close the safe. Before he could get out he was surrounded by flames, and when he managed to fight his way through them he was burned in a most terrible manner.

The fire burned through the afternoon, and as the men of Steamer Company No. 4 were ordered home, the 60-foot-high east wall toppled over, buried seven firemen. Three were killed immediately, and one more was expected to die from his injuries. No one from Fort Orange Milling other than Woolverton was injured; he was, The Times put it, “terribly burned,” and died January 2.

Capitol, Capital – as long as it’s sweet!

Published by:

Capital City Steam Confectionery 2.jpg

Another entry from The Biggert Collection of Architectural Vignettes on Commercial Stationery, and another one from the establishment of Jacob Kreischer. Coming nearly twenty years after our previous entry, this one has a great depiction of the smoking Albany of used-to-be, with a lovely view of Mr. Kreischer’s building at 31 Hudson Avenue. It’s a curious drawing, laid out more to capture the painted signage on the side of the building and the smoking factories behind it than the building itself.

This letter was written June 11, 1895, to the First National Bank in Cooperstown: “Mr. Cashier, dear Sir, Last week I sent you two notes of $36.29 and $34. 75 order of John M. Eldred due on June 6th, Kindly let me know whether those papers have been paid or not. Respectfully Jacob Kreischer”

In the ensuing years either Mr. Kreischer or his printer decided to make it “Capital” rather than “Capitol,” a confusion that reigns to this day.

In addition to the wonderful cut, admire the type in this billhead; it’s just marvelous, particularly the script “Albany, N.Y.”

Kreischer closeup.png

Capitol City Steam Confectionery

Published by:

Capitol City Steam Confectionery.jpg

Ah, steam! Is there nothing you can’t do? As the last word in modernity (at least as far as the 19th century was concerned), the application of steam made every process seem more efficient, modern and marvelous. And so here we have a billhead from the Capitol City Steam Confectionery of Mr. Jacob Kreischer, patentee and manufacturer of  The Famous Dessert Fruit Confect. His imposing general office was located at 31 Hudson Avenue, and the factory was at the corner of Hudson and Quay Street, down by the river. The former is parking, the latter highway.

On March 20, 1876, Kreischer was obliged to write to F.L. Palmer, Esquire, perhaps a collection agent: “Dear Sir  Inclosed please find E.D. Shumway note for collection amt. $68.00. After deducting exchange please forward my draft and oblige. Yours Respectfully Jacob Kreischer”

Previously in the Albany steam chronicles:

This is another entry from The Biggert Collection.

The Argus Company

Published by:

Argus.jpgThe Argus was one of Albany’s prominent newspapers and publishing houses for decades. In addition to publishing The Argus since 1813, they printed numerous other publications and provided general printing, binding, electrotyping and stereotyping service. (How many people refer to a “stereotype” every day without knowing what one is? And without knowing that “cliché” shares the same printing heritage?)

This May 28, 1880 invoice to John A. Mapes, Esq., of 24 Park Place, New York City, was for a “trading notice”. Coming again from The Biggert Collection, it features a lovely rendering of the Argus Building. While the successor to this building, Argus Litho on Broadway, appears to be left for dead, the original is still intact and a lovely part of lower Broadway. Its prominent clock was not yet in place when this cut was made, but the building is still there.
Argus closeup.png

Albany Agricultural and Machine Works

Published by:

Albany Agricultural and Machine Works.jpg
Peter K. Dederick’s Albany Agricultural and Machine Works was one of the first major agricultural implement factories. Dederick held several patents, beginning in 1843, and his works made the first commercial hay press. The works in Tivoli Hollow were massive, and a significant chunk of the old factory remains. The train tracks seen in this view to the south of the factory are still there today. A Google search for P.K. Dederick will turn up a significant amount of ephemera and memorabilia.

Aerated Bread

Published by:

Albany Aerated Bread Co.Some academic collections serve a maddeningly singular purpose, but in this case that purpose serves Hoxsie well. Within Columbia University’s Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library resides The Biggert Collection of Architectural Vignettes on Commercial Stationery. Luckily for us, this fascination with architectural vignettes produces some magnificent reminders of historical buildings in the Capital District.

This is the billhead of the Aerated Bread Co. of 193, 195 and 197 North Pearl Street in Albany. Sadly, the location near the corner of Wilson Street is no more than a vacant lot today, but once it housed a graceful old building in which E. J. Larrabee & Co. (successors to Belcher & Larrabee)  made “Egg, Cream, Milk, Graham and Lemon Biscuit, and every variety of Crackers” as well as “Holmes’ Patent Ginger Snaps, Lemon Snaps, Jumbles, &c.” They were also the sole local agents for Holmes’ Patent Snap Machines.

The Larrabee companies were prominent in the development of the cookie and cracker business nationwide; Belcher and Larrabee was formed in 1860, becoming E.J. Larrabee in 1871. In procuring the newest dough-mixing technology from England, they also procured the services of John Holmes, creator of the aforementioned “snap” machines, who went on to build one of New York City’s most prominent cracker factories, Holmes & Coutts, manufacturer of the “Sea Foam” biscuit.

The billhead was printed by the prominent Albany printer Weed, Parsons & Co. It was made out in 1871, and though the handwriting is hard to follow, it would appear to be to a Joseph (?) Gibbons for one bushel of oyster crackers.

City and County Savings Bank

Published by:

City and County Savings Bank.png

Once upon a time, banks had a single location. When we didn’t get around much, and lived pretty close to where we worked, that really wasn’t much of an issue. As cities spread, banks were eventually allowed to charter additional branches, each of which I believe required government approval. So we find in 1935 that City and County Savings Bank had branched out, having not only its elegant headquarters at 100 State Street (still standing, still elegant), but also a homey little branch office way out on New Scotland Avenue. That’s still there and still a bank.

City and County started as the Albany City Savings Institution in 1850. It changed its name to City Savings Bank of Albany in 1922. In 1935 it merged with Albany County Savings Bank and became, sensibly enough, City and County Savings Bank. Things stayed stable until its merger in 1981 with Home Savings Bank, at which point the “County” would be forgotten and Home and City Savings Bank was created. 10 years later it was merged with Trustco, the former Schenectady Trust Company. While the downtown Trustco branch is a few doors up from its legacy headquarters, the uptown branch remains a Trustco.

Enhanced by Zemanta

War stories

Published by:

In journalism school, we always referred to tales of ink-stained wretches and newspapers gone by told by our professors as “war stories.” But a teacher of French at the Albany Female Academy in the 1830s had some real war stories to tell: General Henri La Fayette Villaume Ducoudray Holstein.

He was a native of Germany who entered the French service and acquired the confidence of Napoleon and had a relationship with Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette. Joel Munsell reports that on the restoration of the Bourbons, he went to South America, “where he found scope for his military skill.” That’s shorthand for a plot to liberate Puerto Rico from Spain, establish it as the Republic of Boricua, and turn a profit. This became known as the Ducoudray Holstein Expedition. The Spanish got wind of it, asked the Dutch government of neutral port Curacao to intercede, and Ducoudray Holstein found himself under arrest in Curacao. Over a series of trials and appeals, he was found guilty of mercenary acts and sailing under false Dutch papers, and sentenced to death. It is said that Lafayette and the government of the United States interceded with the Netherlands on his behalf, and Ducoudray Holstein found himself sailing for a new home in the United States. After a time teaching military tactics, he settled his family in remote upstate New York, where he became a professor of the French, Spanish and German languages and literature at Geneva College in Ontario County.

The General taught there for a number of years and then came to the Albany Female Academy (now known as the Albany Academy for Girls), where he taught French for six years until his death, and (again according to Munsell), “won the esteem of all who knew him.” While in Albany he wrote “The New French Reader, for the use of Universities, Colleges, Academies and Schools,containing original and selected anecdotes, biographical sketches and character portraits of persons distinguished by their genius and their knowledge.” And that was just the title. Luckily, the rest is available to us through Google Books.  He also contributed to a periodical called “The Zodiac.” He died May 23, 1839, at the age of 76, and was buried in Albany Rural Cemetery.

Enhanced by Zemanta

At the intersection of science and art

Published by:

James Eights.pngA couple of weeks ago, I wrote about all the other Albanies that were named for our Albany. One of the most distant places on the planet was named, not for Albany, but for a prominent Albany native: The Eights Coast of Antarctica was named for prominent scientist and artist James Eights.

His exact year and place of birth are in question, but it’s fair to say he was born around 1798. The son of a physician (and possibly a physician himself; he was often referred to as “Doctor”), Eights was early associated with Amos Eaton‘s exploration and collection of the geology of the Erie Canal, and was on the board of the Albany Lyceum of Natural History, formed in 1823. He showed great skill as a draftsman, contributing detailed drawings of Lyceum specimens. He also helped in the development of the Albany Institute of History and Art.

He moved on to New York City, where he was involved with the Sketch Club, an artists’ gathering, and the New York Lyceum. With the support of Stephen Van Rensselaer (Amos Eaton’s partner in the creation of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute), Eights was appointed as naturalist on an expedition to explore the South Seas that set out in October, 1829. While this was a time when the continent of Antarctica was still hypothetical, his investigations in the South Shetland Islands turned up the first fossils from that region. In honor of that early exploration, the Eights Coast of Antarctica was named in his honor more than a century later.

His South Seas exploits hardly registered here in Albany, but he is remembered for the paintings he made of Old Albany. Later in his life, around 1850, he made a series of paintings from memory of how Albany looked when he was a boy. These beautiful watercolors are in many instances the only references we have for the long-lost old Dutch city.

A very detailed life of James Eights by Daniel McKinley is available here.

Enhanced by Zemanta