Hagelstein Brothers; 122 years of Photography in New York City

This entry consolidates (and amplifies) the information collected in this space on the history of Hagelstein Brothers, Photographers, a firm that flourished for 122 years after being established a year after the Civil War.  They were pioneers in so many areas that the Eastman Kodak Photography Museum eagerly accepted some of their work I was able to collect over the years.  As the last generation in line to inherit the business (which I declined) I felt an obligation to document their contributions to commercial photography in New York.  Through this blog, researchers, former employees, even former customers offered further information on the firm. 

My hope was to publish one definitive history on Wikipedia.  I have previously submitted pieces for the “people’s encyclopedia” before but that was when it was relatively new, and although I know how important it has become as a central repository of knowledge, it has also acquired the trappings of a government onto itself, with its own rules and volunteers to patrol its pages.  This is understandable as otherwise people could publish fabrications and self serving articles.  Their technical requirements are now more demanding as well (beyond my patience to learn).

Wikipedia cautions that articles about “family…or anything else you're closely affiliated with” are not acceptable.  It says the topic must be "notable... [and] it must itself have been addressed in outside reliable sources….[T]his means the topic must have been written about in newspapers or magazines or books. Not blogs….Not self-published websites.”  Well that pretty much eliminates all the research and good faith publishing I’ve done and as someone who is “family” in this submission, my work might immediately be suspect to Wikipedia’s volunteer editors.  The possible result as they put it is to summarily delete it. 

Bypassing Wikipedia also enables me to personalize it to some degree, injecting the perspective of my own experience.  When I do so, it is with objectivity, mostly my remembrances having worked there summers as a teenager.  I thank the people who noted my early articles and sent information to supplement them, including Hagelstein Brothers prints they had from the 19^th century and forwarded digitally.  Also, one photographer, Jim Cummins who began his career at Hagelstein Brothers, contacted me with his recollections.  As he is from a long line of professional photographers who worked at Hagelstein Brothers, I incorporate his comments here:

Hagelstein Brothers was a commercial photography studio at 100 5th Avenue in Manhattan. They started as a portrait studio on the lower East side in 1866, just after the Civil War. Through the years they transformed into a commercial photography studio photographing everything from jewelry to large setups and events. They could photograph everything. At the helm of this studio were the brothers Bob and Phil Hagelstein. They were not just good Photographers but were innovators who had cut the template on how commercial photography was done in New York and elsewhere. They closed in 1988 after 122 years in the business. What made Hagelstein Brothers unique was not just the fact that both brothers were good Photographers but Phillip was good at marketing. They were the first in using color film when their competitors were still using black and white.

I was fortunate to have worked there from 1959 through 1960. Although I was an art student, I always had an interest in photography and this was the perfect place to learn the craft. From setting up sets to lighting to matting and stripping of negatives. (There was no Photoshop back then). I learned how to light an entire room with one light and how to use an 11X14 view camera. This is an education that I could not have gotten going to a school. This was on the job training. The knowledge I got working at Hagelstein Brothers has stuck with me to this day. I've been a Photographer for 54 years.

Some of the many things I learned from Bob and Phil were quality and the ability to be able to photograph any and everything. 

So, I publish this originally “Wikipedia-intended” article here and will reference this link in my prior entries on the topic.  Thus, anyone searching for information on the company will ultimately be led here.

 

Hagelstein Brothers, Photographers 

 

 The cofounders of Hagelstein Brothers, Carl (Carl Philipp Wilhelm) and Philip (Anton Philipp Wilhelm), immigrated to the United States in the mid-19^th century.  Gertrude Wilhelmine Kirschbaum Hagelstein who, as the widow of Wilhelm Hagelstein (born Dec. 10, 1794 and died sometime in 1842), embarked to America on March 20, 1856 from Prussia, Port of Cologne, at the age of 48, giving up her Prussian citizenship and those of her children.  Gertrude was the daughter of Philipp Kirschbaum, a factory overseer in Bergenhausen, Germany.  Perhaps, as a widow, with seven children, she saw better opportunities for them all in America.  She brought with her six of her children among whom were Carl Philipp Wilhelm (26 years old) and William (Adolf Theodor Wilhelm, 16 years old).  Philip (Anton Philipp Wilhelm, born March 12, 1833) arrived sometime before his mother and siblings.

What happened between the family’s arrival at Ellis Island to the end of the Civil War is relatively unknown; although it appears they settled in Brooklyn.  William was drafted into the Union Army and he survived the war, returning to Brooklyn and went into the metal fabrication business.  Carl went to California to make his fortune but came back after the war. 

Philip Hagelstein (Great-Grandfather)

At the end of the Civil War brothers Carl and Philip were ready to start or buy a business.  On June 7, 1866 they paid $1,450 for the “lease, goodwill, stock, and fixtures for entire and contents of the Photographic Gallery and business carried on in the upper part of the premises of 142 and 142 ½ Bowery in the City of New York, “or about $25,000 in today’s dollars.  Perhaps Carl did make his fortune but Philip (my great-grandfather) was the driving force behind the business.  Presumably he knew or studied the business of photography.  Jeremy Rowe who has been “researching photographic studios and operations in New York City from the birth of photography to ca 1880” published a valuable article on the importance of New York City photographers to the development of photography in the Daguerreotype Journal (follow the prompts to Page 16)

In his Bowery studio Philip originally specialized in fine Daguerreotypes and portraits made on wet plates, working with the limited materials available at that time. Examples of his Daguerreotypes dating from 1860 to 1870 were included in the Eastman Kodak exhibit during the 1939 New York World's Fair.  About 1880 he began to pioneer in commercial work for manufacturers and gradually developed this specialty.  In 1900 portrait work began to be discontinued and attention was focused on two special fields, one dealing with the manufacturer's merchandising needs, and the other consisting of reproductions of paintings for artists and publishers.

Philip’s son Harry Philip (born 1/26/1885 and died 1/3/1953 – my grandfather) entered the business around 1905; and around 1915 he moved the business from the Bowery to 100 Fifth Avenue where it flourished (completing its transition to a commercial photographic firm from portrait and arts photography) through the depression and two major wars.  HB made a major coop by being named the official photographer of the famous 1913 Armory Show which brought Modern Art to America.

Perhaps if photographic technology stayed the same the firm would have pursued arts photography as its major business.  When arts photography was flourishing the firm made direct negatives from 11 x14 to 24x30, and reproductions in black-and-white, sepia, and hand colored prints on platinum paper which were sold to publishers and art dealers.  They made exquisite reproductions of noted paintings which were done on platinum papers.  This part of the business was discontinued due to the entry of mechanical printing processes, such as photogravure and color printing.

Harry P. Hagelstein (Grandfather)

Harry P. had a sister Kate who was given part of the stock in the business when their father, Philip, died in 1919.  Kate eventually gave her stock to two of her sons, William and Harry McClelland, and when Harry P. died in 1953 he left his stock to his sons, my father Harry R. (who went by the name of Robert, born April 17, 1916 and died on March 19, 1984) and my Uncle Philip (born 06/27/1911 and died 05/14/1999).  Other equal shares of Harry P.’s stock were left to his daughters, my aunts Marion, Lillian, and Ruth.   

Eventually the sisters’ shares were sold to my father, Robert who began to run the business after my grandfather’s death.  His photographic skills were acquired first on the job and from being a signal corps photographer in WW II.  He was active in the closing years of the war in Germany and was part of the occupying force, returning home in January 1946.  Although it was said that Jack M. Warner, the son of the legendary movie mogul, invited him to join him in Hollywood after they collaborated on some WW II training films, Robert decided to return to the family business.  

Robert (Father) and Philip (Uncle)

By the 1950s Hagelstein Brothers had become one of the leading commercial photographers in New York City.  His cousin, William McClelland, was the lead photographer outside the studio, travelling to customers’ showrooms or to the Furniture Exchange building, while his other cousin, Harry, ran the photo printing departments.  My father was the leading studio photographer.  His brother, my Uncle Philip, a graduate of Columbia University (who perhaps gave up a more lucrative career in finance to be loyal to the family business), focused on marketing and bookkeeping.

Robert Hagelstein (Father) in 100 5th Studio

A decade of business success followed in the 1950s as the studio was able to print huge quantities of glossy photos which were used as salesmens' samples for their customers, the majority of which were furniture and lamp manufacturers.  By the 1960s the firm was making its transition to color photography and color prints. 

Business strategy, succession planning, and personality clashes gradually led to the firm’s demise.  Robert had been grooming me, his son, Robert Philip, for succession by employing me as a student from the age of 13 during the summers, (first working as a delivery boy, then in the black and white printing department, and then as a studio photographer’s assistant, and finally in the color processing lab), with plans to send me into the Signal Corps upon my graduation from high school.   Instead I chose to go to college and eventually became a publisher. 

Robert Philip Hagelstein

 

Sometime after I decided not to participate in the business, my father bought out his cousins’ share in the business and he and his brother Philip continued on their own, still employing the old business model of producing prints (now mostly color) for salesmen.  Gradually the business declined and finely they lost their lease (or couldn’t afford it) on their penthouse studio at 100 fifth Avenue, a gothic architecturally designed building built in 1906 which was being repurposed for high end businesses with “new, modern lobbies that create an edgy, innovative look designed to appeal to a new generation of corporate entrepreneurs.”   

This ultimately forced them to move to 46-02-37th Avenue in Long Island City, only to oversee the company’s total demise a few years later.  142 Bowery, the birthplace of the photography studio, was sold with four other attached buildings, for $47 million dollars in 2015. These were among the few remaining Federal period buildings in the area.

All in all, it’s a remarkable history of a studio which was established a year after the end of the Civil War and the three generations of Hagelstein men who ran the business until it finally folded on June 9, 1988, 122 years and 2 days after it was established.  The records of Hagelstein Brothers and, more importantly, hundreds and hundreds of Daguerreotypes and glass plate negatives were destroyed in the early 1990's when my Uncle Philip's home (where they were stored) had to be sold and he went into a nursing home suffering from dementia.  Regrettably no interest at the time was expressed either by libraries or museums and there was no place to store them.  Today, they would have all been digitized.

Some of the original Daguerreotypes from the firm as well as two trade catalogues of Hagelstein Brothers are now housed in the George Eastman museum, so some of their early work can be seen there.

If Only In My Dreams

And so the classic song "I'll Be Home For Christmas" ends with that memorable line “if only in my dreams.”

And that is sort of the way I feel at this stage of my life.  Christmases are now dreams of the past, anticipating the holiday as a child and then the pleasures Ann and I had in creating memorable holiday moments for our children as they grew up.  The classic song itself is particularly evocative of the distant past popularized by Bing Crosby and so many others, first recorded at the peak of WW II. 

Undoubtedly it was played frequently by my mother and my grandparents with whom we lived while my father was in Germany at the conclusion of the War, wanting to get home, but he was part of the occupying force and didn’t make it home until right after Christmas 1945.  "I'll Be Home For Christmas" is probably implanted in the recesses in my mind as every time I hear it I feel a sudden melancholy. 

When my father came home he brought a wooden replica of the Jeep he drove in Germany for me.  I don’t remember his return, or getting the Jeep, but somehow that 70 year old Jeep has accompanied me to wherever I lived.  Sometimes when I look at it, I can hear "I'll Be Home For Christmas."

In some past blog entries I’ve posted videos of other Christmas songs I like to play, in particular the following:  “It's Love -- It's Christmas,”  a seldom performed Christmas song, written by none other than the great jazz pianist Bill Evans. And, then, “Christmas Time Is Here” is by Vince Guaraldi, a great jazz musician too but his music will always be associated with the Peanuts Christmas specials.

Finally, there is “Christmas Lullaby,” probably the most unknown Christmas song. It was written for Cary Grant by none other than Peggy Lee (Lyrics) and Cy Coleman (Music). It is the simplest of tunes and lyrics but therein is its beauty.

So, on the eve of this Christmas I post my piano rendition of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” with fond memories of my Dad and Christmases past.

"I'll Be Home For Christmas"

I'll be home for Christmas;

You can plan on me.

Please have snow and mis-tle-toe

And presents on the tree.

Christmas eve will find me

Where the love light gleams.

I'll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams.

I'll be home for Christmas;

You can plan on me.

Please have snow and mis-tle-toe

And presents on the tree.

Christmas eve will find me

Where the love light gleams.

I'll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams

NY, NY, It’s a Wonderful Town

The Bronx may be up and the Battery down, but for us our week in New York City, other than theater (see previous entry) was about seeing family, friends, and a nostalgic stroll (walk /Uber / cab / subway) down memory lane.  I was born in NYC (actually Queens which any true New Yorker would dismiss as Manhattan to them is THE City).  I lived in Richmond Hill until my teenage years, although began working in Manhattan as a 14 year old for my father’s photography business during the summers, and continued to work there through high school and early college years.  Married in my senior year in college, I became a Brooklynite, living first in downtown Brooklyn and then Park Slope.  I wrote about my nostalgic return to Brooklyn last year.

After my divorce in the late 60s, I moved to West 85^th Street, my first official residence in Manhattan (although when separated from my first wife, I lived with a friend in his East Village apartment).  After Ann and I were married, I moved into her one bedroom apartment on West 63^rd Street.

Since I started with geography, I’m taking our trip out of order, continuing the geographic tour.  The last day before we left (Friday) it was forecast to be another 95 degree day – think it was the fourth in a row over 90.  Ann said she’d rather stay and rest that day and get started on the preliminary packing for our return flight the next morning, so I had a sudden urge to make the most of that morning, before the temperature soared, by walking our old West side neighborhoods.  After all, as an ex-New Yorker I had confidence that I could recapture that pace – the one that perfectly syncs with the changing traffic lights as one walks north or south (doesn’t work for cross town), so at about 10 AM I set off from 54^th and 7^th Avenue to my ultimate destination:  my old West side apartment, a third floor walk up at 66 West 85^th Street. 

My improvised plan was to first go up Central Park West to the apartment which Ann moved into in the early 60’s, the one I moved into when we got married in 1970.  And so I set off.

I crossed Columbus Circle and went up Central Park West and made a left on 63^rd and there behind a lot of scaffolding was our first apartment at 33 West 63^rd St.  Then I went over to Columbus and then began another 20 plus walk up to 85^th Street.  The change in nearly 50 years was remarkable, so gentrified, with boutique shops, markets, restaurants.  I went into a Duane Reade to buy a bottle of water and to use their restroom.  But I forgot: NYC is not hospitable to providing restrooms so I walked further to a local boutique coffee shop and bought a bottle of Perrier and there was a restroom.  Tragedy averted. 

Decided to take a brief rest there and watch the world go by.  Outside I saw a young woman handing out leaflets, talking to people, trying to get them to sign an electronic petition, so after having my drink, I emerged and talked to her.  She was urging people to sign onto an effort to curb an environmental issue in the neighborhood.  I explained that I was from Florida and the last time I lived here, only a block away now, was nearly a half a century ago.  I might as well have been from Mars, but she still urged me to sign as there was also a national dimension.  So I did, and we briefly chatted about the now beautiful west side and the long term threats to the environment given Washington’s current leadership.

So, I walked on, saw the entrance to my old apartment on West 85^th St. and looked down the street towards Central Park West, so inviting now.  Sigh, if we could only live in this area again.

But I was only half way through my journey as I wanted to walk down Amsterdam now which had also changed dramatically.   At 79^th and I turned east as I wanted to see another apartment Ann lived in before moving to 63^rd Street.  She shared an apartment with another woman at 172 West 79^th.  It is still there, a stately prewar building.  And actually, when Ann first moved to the city in 1959, her first apartment was a furnished room in a beautifully restored old brownstone at 39 West 69^th (which I did not visit), but she has fond memories of living there and watching some scenes from the movie The Apartment being filmed on the street at the time.

I turned south back onto Columbus.  Opposite Lincoln Center (Ann watched it being built just across the street from where she lived) is a restaurant, P.J. Clarke's, to which we used to go almost a half century ago when it was called “O’Neill’s Balloon”.  Strange name for a restaurant, yes?  Well, it was originally “O’Neill’s Saloon” and the story goes that NYC at the time prohibited using “Saloon” so they just changed the “S” to a “B” and squeezed in an additional “l”.  A NYC expedient solution, indeed.

Also, 63^rd Street at Lincoln Center has a secondary name, “George Balanchine Way” and there is a back story concerning this.  Most of our Connecticut years were on Ridge Road in Weston.  It was there that the great ballerina, Tanaquil Le Clercq lived, the ex wife of Balanchine. He built a wheelchair ramp for her at that home as she was tragically stricken with polio in 1956.  He finally left her for his last wife but she was always considered his muse.  We never saw her while living there.  Most homes were much hidden from the road.

Ann and I took another nostalgic walking tour earlier in the week.  We wanted to see the old building where we both worked and where we first met at 111 5^th Avenue.  I have even deeper roots in that general lower Fifth avenue area, so I’ll describe our visit in the order of our trip that day.   

First stop was 100 5^th Avenue.  My father’s photography business, Hagelstein Brothers, occupied the very top floor of the building for about 60 years (my grandfather before him) and from about 1936 to 1980 he commuted there from Richmond Hill, Queens, with his brother, my Uncle Phil, (except for the War years).  From about 1956, when I was only 14, to when I was 20, I worked there each summer, riding to work in the back of their small van, sitting among the props, from our home, to Woodhaven Blvd., to the Long Island Expressway and then through the Queens Midtown tunnel, down Park Avenue, to 100 5th Avenue. 

My first job was as a delivery boy, delivering proofs to customers all over New York, usually by subway, so I got to know the city fairly well, almost as if I lived in Manhattan rather than Queens.  That entire lower 5^th Avenue has a special place in my reflective psyche.

So there it was, the same entrance I had gone in and out of a thousand times, the building looking the same, but, as everything else in the area, gentrified, boutique shops replacing the old coffee shops and industrial equipment stores.  From there we walked down to 14^th Street toward Union Square.  When I was first married we (ex-wife) lived in Brooklyn and the subway stop left me off at Union Square.  It was there that I was the only New Yorker who has ever received a J-walking ticket.  I was crossing with a mob of people but the cop signaled me over.  I remember writing a letter to the Mayor at the time, John Lindsey, as it was the principle of the matter, not the violation.  I’m still patiently waiting for a reply.:-)

In any case, Union Square is now a lush park, and I wanted to find a Union Square diner which I clearly remember going to on several occasions in the mid 1960’s.  It was the go-to place if a large group of us were going out from the office.  I usually had a very inexpensive hero sandwich with Jim Mafchir who was a close friend and colleague.  He actually showed me the ropes of publishing production work and when I first separated from my wife, lived with him briefly in his East Village apartment.  About ten years ago we reconnected with him in Sante Fe, NM.

One of those luncheons at the coffee shop included a gal I didn’t know well, Ann, who would become my wife years later.  So, for the purposes of this visit, I wanted to see what boutique shop might have replaced it.  To our shock, the old Chase Coffee shop on Union Square is still there.  Changed ownership 28 years ago, and the layout is different, but it is still a traditional NYC coffee shop so naturally, that is where we had to have lunch and retread footsteps from another lifetime, when we hardly knew one another.  In this selfie, you can see “Coffee Shop” over my left shoulder.

From there we forged on to 111 5th Avenue where I worked from 1964 to 1969 and Ann worked from 1965 to 1971.  Funny how we went in and out of those elevators so many times, and never fully appreciated the fine workmanship of them and the lobby.  We finally did on this, our final visit.

Then, we went north on 5^th Avenue and we looked for a restaurant we used to go to after work on the west side of the street.  Gone.  Up to 23^rd Street.  Jim and I used to go to some of the bars on that street and have an Irish lunch.  They’re pretty much gone.  The Flatiron building of course still stands majestically at the intersection of 5^th and Broadway.

Another building I had to see was the Met Life in front of Madison Square Park as I had two connections with that building.  My grandfather (on my mother’s side) worked there and later in my publishing career, we rented space there for Praeger Publishers which we had bought from CBS, so I used to visit regularly.  Every time I entered the building I had to sign in and get a pass which I used to just sometimes stick on the inside of my brief case.  Even though that was more than 20 years ago, I not only still use that briefcase, but the passes still remain.  Why I haven’t removed them, I have no idea. Maybe it was for this moment.

Finally, one more destination in this area, and that was 28 West 23^rd Street, a building I used to regularly visit to attend board meetings of our then parent company, Williamhouse Regency from 1970 to 1976.  Therefore, you might say, much of my working career is tethered to that area.

 From there, we had intended to Uber up 6^th Avenue to our hotel but as all of lower to even upper Manhattan, traffic was at a standstill and it was beastly hot by then too, we took the easy way, the 6^th Avenue Subway, and thus back in a flash.  “The people ride in a hole in the ground. New York, New York, it's a wonderful town!”

Earlier in the week we had a date to lunch with Ann’s niece Regina and her two children, nearly adults, Forrest, and Serena.  We had agreed to meet at the Grill in the Standard Hotel right near the southern entrance to the High Line and there we had lunch, their menu very creative, the waiter fun, and the ambiance, trendy, reflective of its roots in the meatpacking district.

After catching up with the activities of the now grownup “kids” and a relaxing lunch, we all walked the entire length of the High Line from Gansevoort Street to West 34th Street. The High Line was built on an elevated freight line that was supposed to be demolished.  Instead, it has become an example of how such industrial space can become an integral part of a beautiful city, affording views, cultural art, and community spirit.  It brings back a little of old New York, combining it with the sensibilities of modern times, with its street art and architecture of new buildings.

Although some very good and old favorite NYC restaurants were another go to feature of our trip, I’ll only mention one, and that is the legendary Le Bernardin.  We’ve been there before, not often of course, but we made it a point to go to this very exceptional restaurant and there we celebrated being together with Jonathan and Tracie.

Speaking of whom, we also spent the day with them, the Sunday after we arrived, we taking the New Haven railroad to South Norwalk where they picked us up and we went immediately to our boat where they had a lunch waiting for us.  It seemed odd to be there as a one-day visitor, but we’ll be back later in the summer to stay there. 

Naturally, while there we had to get out on the water, that day perhaps being the best day of the week, taking our little runabout to visit friends on their boats.  Finally back to our ‘Swept Away’ to read the New York Times and then Jonathan and Tracy prepared a feast for dinner, king crab legs and sous vide T-bone steak and, unexpectedly, a neighboring boat had just returned from a fishing tournament so there was fresh mahi mahi to grill as well.  That night they returned us to NYC as they both had to drive back for work.

We were going to go to the lower east side on Thursday but it was supposed to be in the mid 90s with high humidity and being outside would probably kill us so we "settled" for a day at MOMA before the theatre that night.

I ended up taking about 100 photographs and I managed to cover all five floors and we had a lovely lunch in their restaurant.

Instead of posting everything, I’m including a few that felt very personal to me, especially in this chaotic political era.  So many of the MOMA’s collection presents other similar times, ones that we’ve lived through, such as in the wake of the Edward Snowden leaked NSA documents, one can appreciate the following:

Simon Denny’s “Modded Server-Rack Display with Some Interpretations of David Darchicourt Designs for NSA Defense Intelligence.”

 Or Kara Walker’s “40 Acres of Mules” where  “characters play out repulsive dramas of racial and gender bigotry

”.

There was an entire exhibit “Why Pictures Now” devoted to the iconoclastic Louise Lawler.  When asked to submit a picture of herself for a 1990 issue of Artscribe magazine, she submitted one of Meryl Streep, “acknowledging MOMA’s role in presenting artists as celebrities.”

Robert Rauschenberg’s work really captures the zeitgeist of not only the turbulent 60s, but also anticipates the unrest of today.  

 His “Signs” (1970) warns about the “Danger lies in forgetting."  Indeed, 1960's political foment reminds one of today's world.  

His “Stop Side Early Winter Glut” (1987) is an environmental warning and a warning of spiritual ruination.  “It’s a time of glut.  Green is rampant…I simply want to present people with their ruins.”

As an ex New Yorker I viscerally responded to his “Estate” (1963)

Mobs of people were photographing Vincent van Gogh’s “The Starry Night” (1889) which haunts.

Personally, I’d like to have this one hanging over my piano (in addition to “Rebecca” which presently hangs there):  Picasso “Three Musicians” (1921).

So, this entry and my prior one summarizes one very intense week.  If it was not for the unbearable heat, and crowds, we'd still be dreaming of living there again.  I think we've abandoned that dream, although we’ll be back to the city where we have deep roots.  The exciting multiculturalism and the juxtaposition of where new architecture meets the old still speak to us.