In the summer of 2018, I began work at the Municipal Archives as the lead archivist on the Manhattan Building Plans Project, a much-anticipated, years-long undertaking to process and rehouse more than 100,000 architectural drawings that had been filed with the Department of Buildings between 1866-1977. The drawings had been transferred to the Archives from the Department of Buildings in the aftermath of a less-than-successful microfilming project in the late 1970s. The microfilming vendor, believing the original material was going to be disposed of, haphazardly and messily re-wrapped the plans in acidic paper. They tightly tied each “bundle” with damaging twine and labelled with minimal, and often insufficient, identification.
Pre-processing storage conditions of the Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.
Post-processing (hooray!) storage conditions of the Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.
My colleagues and I are processing and rehousing the plans to reestablish intellectual control over the material and to create more optimal retrieval and storage conditions. To do so, we un-roll the dusty bundles, identify the plans, sort, flatten, repair if damaged, count and catalog, carefully and neatly re-roll onto acid-free tubes, wrap with protective Mylar, and store in acid-free boxes.
We are organizing the plans according to BBL, or borough, block, and lot number, so that all the plans for all the buildings or structures built on a particular city lot, and all the changes and alterations made to an already existing building on that lot, are stored together. When sorting the plans, we verify the block and lot information and record it, as well as addresses, quantity of plans, dates, notes on architects, important features, and condition concerns. To date, we have processed and rehoused over 22,000 plans for buildings in lower Manhattan. They comprise all manner of architectural drawings—sections, elevations, floor plans, and details—as well as engineering and structural diagrams for every conceivable type of building—industrial, manufacturing, retail, financial, and residential. From stables to skyscrapers and everything in between.
Among the plans are obvious showstoppers, beautifully rendered elevations of well-known buildings splashed with color and architectural detail--what people think of when they think of historic New York City architecture. But most building plans are not that, and the vast majority of the tens of thousands of plans that we have viewed are far humbler and more mundane. They show alterations, fireproofing, elevator and boiler installations, signage, electrical work, and plumbing, plumbing and more plumbing. And they reveal a lot about the true nature of the building, the people who made and used it, and the city itself.
Wooden elevator shaft with dovetail detail, 129 Mercer Street, 1896. H.G. Knapp, architect. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.
When you look through 22,411 plans of the details of New York City, day in, day out, what catches your jaded eye? What are the small things that delight or confound you and make you stop for a moment and show your colleagues or take a photo with your phone to refer to later or simply to show a friend? For me these stop-and-look-closer moments seem to fall into three different categories:
1. The “Awww! Pretty!” Plans
Finding beauty in unexpected places has been one of the highlights of the project. To see the intricate parts of a building drawn in two dimensions provides a new perspective that gives you the ability to appreciate the complexity and precision of something as ubiquitous as a foundation or a column or a plumbing fixture in a brand-new way.
Surprisingly delicate rendering of a foundation pier for the Bowling Green Building, 11 Broadway, 1895. W. & G. Audsley, architects. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.
Complex column details from an 18-story loft building, 460 West 34th Street, 1927. Parker & Shaffer, engineers and industrial architects. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.
Two images showing the artistry of plumbing fixtures from two very different buildings. On the left is the plan for the barber shop basins at the former New York Life Insurance Building, 346 Broadway, 1895, McKim, Mead & White, architects.
And on the right a plumbing detail from the plans for the “City Prison” [aka the Manhattan House of Detention], 100 Centre Street, 1937, Harvey W. Corbett & Charles B. Meyers, architects. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.
2. The “Wait, what?” Plans
We process so many plans that you can’t take too much time perusing every drawing. But when a confounding phrase or image is spotted, you can’t help but look a little closer and do a bit of research. You can’t just let the Coloramas, movie theater train cars, and doughnut computers of the world pass you by.
Colorama display detail from a plan entitled “Colorama Room Plans and Traverse Sections, New Bank Entrance,” The Bank for Savings, 280 Fourth Avenue [now 280 Park Avenue South], 1953. Alfred Hopkins and Associates, architect. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives. Coloramas were spectacular 18-foot by 60-foot color transparencies created by Eastman Kodak and displayed on the east balcony in Grand Central Terminal from 1950-1990. Only 565 were ever made and a few were later cut down in size and displayed elsewhere, which seems to be the case here. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.
Plan for alterations to theater interior, 46 East 14th Street, 1906. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives. In the early 1900s the area around 14th Street had many nickelodeons and theaters competing for business. The Brady-Grossman Company featured Hale’s Tours, where patrons sat in simulated Pullman cars and watched films of picturesque railroad routes as if they were travelling. The “tours” became more and more sophisticated, with panoramas, sound effects, and a rocking motion making it feel like the “train” was moving; this seems to be an early version of the attraction.
Plan entitled “Additional Steel Support of IBM Units” for the Doughnut Corp. of America, 45 West 36th Street, 1954. J. Gordon Carr, architect. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives. The Doughnut Corporation of America was founded in 1920 primarily to sell doughnut-making machines to bakeries. They later expanded to manufacturing doughnut mixes for home use as well as running a chain of coffee shops. They also founded the National Dunking Association in 1931 to encourage doughnut-eating. So it is really not too surprising that such innovators were also early adopters of the most modern (but heavy) technology.
3. The “That’s so cool!” Plans
There are some things that are just too fun not to pay attention to. Whether it’s a hand-drawn detail that shows a draftsman taking artistic liberties or a floor plan that proves New York City building façades could contain any and all sorts of interesting enterprises.
A charming drawing for Bear & Son clothing store near Union Square, 50 East 14th Street, date unknown. Note that the draftsman went to the trouble to write in “Bear’s Head” and “Cub’s Head” at the top. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.
Floorplan for the Julian Billiard Academy, 138 East 14th Street, circa 1933. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives. This second-floor pool hall was owned by the same family for over 50 years and its closing in 1991 was felt by many New Yorkers to be a real blow for “old New York.”
Longitudinal section drawing for Ogden & Wallace Iron Warehouse, 583 Greenwich Street, 1893. John A. Hamilton, architect. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives. Though many architectural drawings depict both exterior and interior elements, this is the only one we’ve seen with such a cozy (lit!) fireplace.
Alteration plan for Electric Lady Studios, 52-54 West 8th Street, 1969. Storyk Design, architect. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives. Soundproofing and vocal booth construction details for the recording studio built for Jimi Hendrix in 1970 and still in demand today. Very cool.
And I’ll close with one of the first drawings that caught my eye and is still one of my favorites It spans all three categories. It’s a beautiful drawing of a beautiful object, its history certainly deserves some further research, and the structure is a cool, and recognizable detail of New York City architecture.
Tank and tower drawing for House of Relief, 67-69 Hudson Street, 1912. Felber Engineering Works. Department of Buildings Collection, NYC Municipal Archives.
Like many New Yorkers, the Building Plans Team is telecommuting now, and the plans are waiting for our return. And with many tens of thousands of plans remaining, who knows what else we’ll find.