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Updated: May 31, 2025
Leo Merzbacher, first Rabbi, 1845-56, and to his successors, Dr. Gustav Gottheil, 1873-1903. The present Rabbi is the Rev. Joseph Silverman. Back from the Avenue, on the west side, between Forty-third and Forty-fourth Streets, there once stood the Coloured Orphan Asylum. It was a square four-story building, occupying almost the entire block, and there was a garden in front extending to the road.
And there he stood, a poor little figure, heedless of the merry throngs that passed, his wistful gaze fixed upon a four-story chocolate cake, a sort of edible skyscraper, with a tiny dome of a glazed cherry upon the top of it. And of all the surging throng on Main Street that bleak, autumnal night, none noticed this poor fellow. Yes, one. A lady sitting in a big blue automobile saw him.
Also, a vision of a four-story brick house, nicely furnished, I actually saw many specific articles, curtains, sofas, tables, and others, and could draw the patterns of them at this moment, a brick house, I say, looking out on the water, with a fair parlor, and books and busts and pots of flowers and bird-cages, all complete; and at the window, looking on the water, two of us.
A few pieces of furniture, badly damaged, was all that was saved of this once popular hotel. The Winslow was a four-story brick building, and with the exception of the Fuller house the largest hotel in the city. The hotel was constructed in 1854 by the late J.M. Winslow. Mr. Winslow was one of the most ingenious hotel constructors in the West.
Neal breathlessly turned the corner he saw the tall man mounting the stoop of a shabby four-story apartment house a little way down the street. About to enter, he turned his face toward the running clerk, and even by the dim light at the entrance to the dingy house, Mr. Neal could see how ineffably spiritual and strong the face was.
"It's a Chinese restaurant," he exclaimed delightedly. "Let's go in for a cup of tea, as soon as we have taken a look at your historic landmarks." On the northwest corner of Grant Avenue and Clay Street, we paused before a dingy four-story brick building on whose sides were pasted long strips of red paper ornamented with quaint Chinese characters.
To correctly visualize Fiume you must imagine a town no larger than Atlantic City crowded upon a narrow shelf between a towering mountain wall and the sea; a town with broad and moderately clean streets, shaded, save in the center of the city, by double rows of stately trees and paved with large square flagstones which make abominably rough riding; a town with several fine thoroughfares bordered by well-constructed four-story buildings of brick and stone; with numerous surprisingly well-stocked shops; with miles and miles of concrete moles and wharfs, equipped with harbor machinery of the most modern description, and adjacent to them rows of warehouses as commodious as the Bush Terminals in Brooklyn, and rising here and there above the trees and the housetops, like fingers pointing to heaven, the graceful campaniles of fine old churches, one of which, the cathedral, was already old when the Great Navigator turned the prows of his caravels westward from Cadiz in quest of this land we live in.
Hurrying across town, I passed, not far from the Hotel St. Antoine, a blazing four-story building. The cathedral was not touched, and indeed, in spite of the noise and terror, the material damage was comparatively slight.
Among the three and four-story buildings that lined the block was one frame-house, two-story-and-basement, on which he saw a sign, "Board for Gentlemen." He had seen other similar signs, but his attention was specially drawn to this by seeing a pleasant-looking woman enter the house with the air of proprietor. This woman recalled to Philip his own mother, to whom she bore a striking resemblance.
"Open a s'loon," said the cabby, promptly and huskily. "I know a place I could take money in with both hands. It's a four-story brick on a corner. I've got it figured out. Second story Chinks and chop suey; third floor manicures and foreign missions; fourth floor poolroom. If you was thinking of putting up the cap " "Oh, no," said Gillian, "I merely asked from curiosity. I take you by the hour.
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