By Phyllis Cox
pcox@hunter.cuny.edu
Photo by Jolie Ruben
The Landmark’s Preservation Commission praised the row houses of the Longwood Historic District for preserving a sense of what the Bronx was like as the subway arrived, transforming farmland to city streets. Marilyn Smith’s home, where it all began, is at the right.
In 1977, as arson and abandonment devastated the South Bronx, two Longwood homeowners set out not only to save their homes but to save their neighborhood’s history.
Three years later, the city designated a seven-block area of 19th and early 20th century row houses the second historic district in all of the Bronx, insuring that they would not be torn down or developed beyond recognition.
The historic district designation means that they will continue to look much the way they do today. The Landmarks Preservation Commission has to sign off on any changes to the exteriors of the homes.
Thomas J. Bess, 72, and Marilyn Smith, 67, moved to Longwood in the 1940s. Bess, who now lives in New Jersey, lived at 947 East 156th Street; Smith continues to live at 952 East 156th Street. By the mid-1970s, they and other row house residents were getting worried. Looking down their block, they could see eight vacant homes, showing signs of considerable disrepair.
Unwilling to let these houses fall into the hands of developers who would demolish them, Bess and Smith began ringing their neighbors’ doorbells to invite them to a meeting at St. Margaret’s Church.
Most of the people who answered the door were black or Hispanic. The Jewish and Italian families that had previously occupied the little enclave began moving away in the 1940s.
Like the Bess and Smith families, Yvonne Jones, 83, benefited from this white flight. In 1944, her family became the second black family to purchase a house in the area.
Her parents Daisy and Fitz Robertson bought their home at Dawson Street and East 156th because it has the distinction of being a corner house. They made the $5,000 down payment with a government death benefit for Jones’s brother, a merchant seaman lost at sea during World War II.
Drawn to Longwood because Manhattan was too expensive, the Joneses stayed through four generations. Jones recalls people calling her street, “sissy Dawson Street,” not because of the inhabitants’ demeanor but because its many trees planted gave the street a bucolic appearance. “People took care of their property. They planted trees, took up garbage; everything was neat and proper,” she said.
People such as the Joneses, who were living mostly on fixed incomes, “came to that meeting,” recalled Bess. Some tenants joined the homeowners, he said.
In the meetings that followed, someone proposed that the neighborhood be made a historic district. From those few words, the Longwood Historic District Community Association was formed, in an effort to persuade the Landmarks Commission, which was notorious for ignoring the boroughs outside of Manhattan, to come take a look.
A flurry of activity ensued unlike anything these residents had ever seen, said Bess. “When the Landmarks Commission heard what we wanted, they got excited,” he said.
The commissioners came uptown to meet with homeowners and the community association steering committee. Then the commission sent its staff to do surveys and cull historical data. Its work culminated in a public hearing at the Bronx County Courthouse.< Marked by rounded bays with cone-shaped roofs, Longwood’s row houses stand in pairs separated by driveways and iron gates. Designed by a single architect, Warren C. Dickerson, they make the area bounded by Beck Street between Longwood and Leggett Avenues, Kelly Street between Longwood Avenue and East 156th Street and East 156th Street between Beck and Dawson streets architecturally cohesive.
The landmarks commission described the Longwood district as an example of the best of the architecture that transformed the Bronx from farm country into “an urban extension of Manhattan” as the subways opened the borough to development.
“Uniformity of scale, consistency of style and relative architectural intactness give Longwood a special sense of place,”the commission concluded.
The designation drew attention. In its “AIA Guide to New York City,” the American Institute of Architects remarked that the row houses “are not what you imagine” when you think of the South Bronx, but celebrated what the guide calls “as fresh a visual bouquet as one could wish.”
Conceding that they were thoroughly unaware of the historical significance of their homes when they began their efforts, the residents say their campaign for landmark status afforded them the opportunity to become well-versed in the history of their community. “We didn’t have an appreciation for these details, but as a result of that effort we began to appreciate what we had,” recalled Bess.
Before the designation, Smith said, neighbors were friendly, but after the designation, residents formed a more cohesive group, and people took more pride in their homes and surroundings.
Deborah Stuart, 45, was drawn to the area, she said, by her love of “old houses.” She has lived at 757 Beck Street for 19 years. “It’s like a small town, where everyone knows each other,” she said.
Jesse Harris, 68, was living in Parkchester when his stroke of luck occurred. Marilyn Smith’s husband, his best mate since elementary school in East Harlem, told him of a vacant property in the neighborhood. He came, looked, put a deposit down on 939 East 156th Street and has lived there for the last for 21 years.
“I think it is a wonderful diverse community, lots of camaraderie,” Harris says. “I feel fortunate living here. I have a wonderful house and great neighbors.”