Foundry Marks of the George H. Toop Ironworks

I first met George on a Sunday night in early March just before 9pm while I was out doing the trash and recycling. Our building’s trash and recycling barrels are sidewalk-level next to the stoop. The entrance to the trash and recycling area has an iron fence painted glossy black with a latched gate that’s rarely closed. Four barrels are stored inside two little sheds each with a hinged roof that lifts up for access. Trash is on the left, recycling is on the right. Other than a steak knife someone dropped behind one of the sheds and a rat trap, for the five years that we’ve lived here I hadn’t noticed anything remarkable about this unobtrusive spot next to the stoop. Then I met George.

Four Black Columns

Our building is a four story walk-up tenement like a lot of the other buildings in our neighborhood that were built when East Harlem first started being developed in the 1880s. It’s brick with a black cast-iron cornice and four black columns that stand out in stark contrast against the red of the brick. Two of them are on either side of a central entrance and the other two are on the far right and far left edges of the building. I recently researched the history of our building and discovered that the first floor originally had storefronts on either side of the entrance with big windows. The four tall black columns once framed the storefront windows. Today those big windows are gone and the shops were converted into studio apartments. But the columns are still there.

The building next door has two mature rose bushes that bloom from May to October. Their long thorny branches droop with big showy blossoms that cover the lower part of the far left black column of our building near the trash. Half the year my wife and I inevitably hum Mona Lisa’s and Mad Hatters every time we leave the apartment. But on March 5th at 8:57pm when I was outside sorting cardboard and cans, our neighbor’s roses were still sound asleep. 

George H. Toop Ironworks

Back inside I started doing some research and learned three things. First, I learned that the four black columns on the facade of our building were made of cast-iron. Second, I learned that the letters and numbers on the far left cast-iron column that are blocked half the year by roses was a foundry mark that let’s everyone know who had fabricated the columns. Third, I learned that these cast-iron columns had been made just a few blocks away at the George H. Toop Iron Works located on 91st Street and 1st Avenue.

I also learned a bit about George H. Toop. Apparently George and his older brother Charles emigrated from England to New York City in the early 1860s and, at the time of their naturalization, were living together at 41 Perry Street in the West Village. The brothers were both in the iron foundry business throughout the 1870s. From 1872-1887 George operated his own iron foundry at East 88th Street and 4th Avenue (Park Avenue) and then after fifteen years moved his operations to 406-414 East 91st Street. A couple years after George moved his iron foundry, he started the East River Mill and Lumber Company with lumber yards located from 91st to 94th Streets and the East River. 

George’s son, William Henry Toop, had taken over the iron foundry business and, after his father’s death sometime around 1907, relocated the foundry to 2572 Park Ave in The Bronx. By 1918 he was no longer in the iron business. According to his WWI draft card, William lived in North Pelham and worked as a vacuum cleaner salesman in Brooklyn. He died in 1958.

Foundry Marks

A day after meeting him, I couldn’t get George out of my head. I was out doing errands and suddenly noticed foundry marks on nearly all the historic buildings I walked past on 2nd Avenue. Every 25 feet there was another mark. Practically all of them were George’s. Over the next few weeks, no matter where I went in Manhattan, all I saw were foundry marks. I couldn’t stop seeing them. And not just George’s. I created a photo album on my phone just so I could organize the different marks I found all over the city.

It makes sense that George’s marks are all over East Harlem and the Upper East Side. For 35 years his two foundries were right there. But I’ve found his name on historic buildings throughout the city, especially in the SoHo-Cast Iron District. Wherever I go, it feels like I’m on a scavenger hunt and I get extra points when I find one of George’s marks really far away from his base of operations. Since we first met, I now see George’s name every single day.

I’m not exactly sure why George decided to reveal himself to me on a cold March night 116 years after his death. But now that he has, it almost feels like he wants me to tell people his story. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I recently started verifying the biographical details I found when I first learned about George and am currently in the process of researching his life. I’ve already discovered some really interesting facts and have an appointment scheduled with a research library here in Manhattan that I’m very much looking forward to.

The 91st Street Foundry

I don’t want to spoil any surprises, but I will share this: the other day I visited the location of George’s iron foundry on East 91st Street. Unfortunately, it’s gone. In 2008 a private all-girls school on the Upper East Side purchased the building and demolished it to build a 60,000 square foot athletic and wellness facility that opened in 2014. I already knew his foundry was gone before I visited the site, but I still wanted to see the street where it stood for over a century and document any of the historic buildings that were still standing. Maybe they had something they could tell me.

This area along the East River was completely different 136 years ago. Iron foundries, lumber mills, stone yards, gasworks, produce markets and factories lined the waterfront. Boats constantly moved goods and people up and down the East River. America’s Industrial Revolution unfolded in places just like this and New York City was built in iron foundries like the one George operated. I stood on the sidewalk in front of where George’s foundry once stood and tried to imagine what his life was like back then. 

There’s no doubt that East 91st Street between 1st and York has changed since George Toop first opened his iron foundry here in 1887. Yet despite these changes, there’s still a lot that hasn’t changed. Standing on the sidewalk I heard mechanized whirring sounds emanating from one of the brick factories across the street decorated in ornamental iron work. Someone pushed a wooden handle broom while men darted in and out of factory doorways, loading up vans to deliver freshly baked bread to local shops. Out on the East River a ferry blasted its horn.

George H. Toop came to the United States in his late twenties and literally left his mark on New York City. For so many years he’s quietly waited for someone to remember him. George’s story, like so many others that have come here to pursue a dream, may have been forgotten. But it’s out there, just waiting for someone like me to find it. And I can’t wait to share it with you.

Part 2 of Foundry Marks of the George H. Toop Ironworks will be published soon. Subscribe to Ghosts of Gotham to get Part 2 delivered to your inbox as soon as it’s published.