Back in 2001, George Allen, director of The Kingston Library, described 107 Henry Street as “a tiny castle from a fairy tale.” The building’s advanced state of deterioration, he hastened to add, “creates apprehension rather than delight” in the mind of the viewer.
Allen’s description in his newsletter Midtown Sentinel, aimed to raise awareness of Midtown Kingston’s significant architectural resources.
The “dollhouse,” as Allen called it, was definitely an eye-catcher, even boarded up and missing its front porch. The delicately scaled, multi-faceted structure was nonetheless entrancing, thanks to its fanciful towers, elaborate brickwork, fishtail shingles, gabled windows, and diminutive mansard roof, which topped a small rear addition sporting a porch framed by slender columns.
Dating from the early 1870s and exhibiting the period’s exuberant stylistic eclecticism, from Gothic to Stick to Shingle to Romanesque, the Burger-Matthews House, as it came to be known, was named after the first owner and probable builder Solomon Burger, a mason and contractor who likely intended the building as a showcase of his skills. Unfortunately, the house seemed destined for the wrecking ball.
Fast forward 22 years. The building has been saved! A remarkable restoration completed this June saw the opening of a brick-and-mortar home for Transart, a nonprofit organization whose programs celebrate and elucidate the art and culture of people of African descent. Transart also hosts Jazz in the Valley and celebrates Pinkster. It arranges exhibitions, including last year’s “Africans in America and Antiquity” at the county-owned Matthewis Persen House.
Resplendent in a rich palette of ochre, sage green, umber, and wine red (which complements the russet of the restored brick walls and chimneys), the building is an architectural jewel. Its accents of bright orange on the vergeboards and decorative woodwork of its porches ensure its visibility from a block away.
Equally significant is its role as a cultural beacon in an underserved district of the city. Signs posted around the neighborhood advertised its recent exhibition “A Sense of Place,” featuring the work of four Black artists connected to the Hudson Valley. Today, 107 Henry Street is a testament to the longstanding commitment, vision and talent of people who are dedicated to preserving Kingston’s historic architecture as well as educating the neighborhood, city and public at large about the important cultural contributions of African-American artists, musicians and performers.
How the space is used
Central to the project’s success are Transart founder and CEO Greer Smith and architect Alan Baer.
“This has been a haul,” Smith acknowledged. “The tenacity of myself and Alan and the people who’ve contributed anonymously made it happen. We’re here to restore the pride of people who don’t have the opportunity to get exposure to culture. The building is a step in appreciating our architectural heritage.”
While the exterior has been restored to its original appearance — a historic photo that midway through the project was unearthed and shared by a Burger descendant enabled Baer to reconstruct the missing front porch accurately — the interior space has been completely reconfigured. It has an open, contemporary feel.
The original Renaissance-style door, whose colored bottled-glass inserts are intact, opens to a light-filled exhibition gallery. Behind the gallery is a small kitchen and bathroom. No walls surround the sumptuous staircase, whose curved handrail, balusters and finials have been meticulously restored.
The stairway has a sculptural presence that extends to the second-floor conference room, which is furnished with a round table and chairs. The open space behind the stairs reveals the tower wall, punctuated by three stunning Gothic-style stained-glass windows. Off the conference room is a sunny corner office for Smith and a second office for operations manager Corrine Rodriguez (the Transart staff also includes two part-time employees). In the rear is a small coffee lounge and bathroom.
Another set of stairs leads to the attic, where Transart’s archives, including numerous books and vinyl records, are housed beneath the multi-gabled roof; a reading area and a glass-enclosed listening booth are tucked beneath a narrow gable. The basement serves as a storage area and displays large murals painted by local kids for fences bordering the former construction site.
Modernist light fixtures and interior doors maintain the minimalist look of the flowing space. White-painted beadboard covers the ceiling in some areas. Built-in shelves and drawers provide plenty of storage space. Craftsman elements that exude warmth and are a nod to the house’s historic origins.
In the downstairs kitchen and bath area of the rear addition. The original 1880s unpainted wooden rafters are exposed, suggesting a shed-like shelter.
Baer’s design sense imbues the contemporary features with as much appeal as the charming Victorian ones. The two periods meld seamlessly.
Avoiding demolition
This triumphal repurposing of a 130-year-old building was beset by challenges, including several years-long delays.
The saga for the building’s rescue began when members of Friends of Historic Kingston (FHK) took notice of George Allen’s description and in 2003 sponsored an application to designate the building a local landmark. Lowell Thing, a historic preservationist and author who previously served as president of FHK, noted the move prevented the aldermembers from selling off or tearing down the city-owned property.
Following its purchase by a family that planned to restore the building, FHK contracted architect Robin Guenther to prepare a restoration guideline. Guenther’s illustrations and blueprints laid out how to restore the building in accordance with U.S. Department of Interior historic preservation standards.
Besides paying Guenther $1000, the Friends also invested $5000 for temporary roof repairs.
The new owners failed to rehab the building, and its ownership reverted back to the city. To prevent its demolition, Jennifer O’Donnell (then Jennifer Schwartz Berky) obtained the property from the city for a dollar. O’Donnell contacted the New York State Office of Parks, Recreation, and Historic Preservation (OPRHP) to get the property listed as a state landmark, which would qualify it for historic-preservation tax credits and grants.
Knowing that Transart was seeking a location of its own, she gifted the building to the organization. O’Donnell applied for and won a $240,000 matching grant for the building from OPRHP, which paved the way for a restoration. O’Donnell identified “the funding opportunities and policy mechanisms (in this case, historic designation and grants available) to make this kind of project possible,” she noted in an email. “It was a project that was probably ahead of its time …. People didn’t recognize the value of a Transart museum in Midtown. There was a lot of resistance.”
Stabilizing the building
“It took a long time because of the hoops we had to go through,” recalled Smith. “Overcoming obstacles was a built-in requirement of being “a Black woman who grew up in America …. That’s how you live, as I learned from my mom and ancestors. In not doing what society expects you to do, you have to have faith and courage.”
Despite the hurdles, the project garnered support from not just The Kingston Library and FHK (whose then-president, Lowell Thing, wrote multiple letters to city and state officials), but also from congressmember Maurice Hinchey, state assemblymember Kevin Cahill, the Hudson River Valley Greenway, the Henry Street Neighborhood Watch Group, and the Preservation League of New York.
Transart officially took ownership of 107 Henry Street in 2009. A technical assistance mini-grant from the Dyson Foundation helped the organization raise matching funds. It obtained a grant and loan from New York State Council of the Arts. The money was used to stabilize the building, including rebuilding chimneys on the brink of collapse, replacing rotted joists and load-bearing columns, repointing the foundation, and repairing or replacing the roof and exterior shingles. A garage on the property was torn down to create space for the brick-paved parking lot, which also serves as an outdoor performance space.
Baer builds a silo
Smith hired Baer to do the restoration. An essential element in the restoration’s success has been the harmonious working relationship between the two: “I’m a creative as well, and the benefit of working with Alan is that there’s no ego involved,” said Smith. “Whatever I could imagine, Alan is the magician who made it happen.”
Baer was familiar with Guenther’s restoration guideline, being one of three architects who had applied for the FHK commission. He was a particular fan of that architect’s color scheme, which he said he’s pretty much adhered to.
Perhaps the most inspired of Baer’s creations was his solution for housing the elevator, an amenity Smith wanted for “the people with bad knees.” There wasn’t room for it within the building. Instead of constructing a tall rectangular box that would present a disharmonious contrast to the building’s Victorian grace, Baer built a silo. Its rounded, brown-shingled cylindrical form adds to the building’s magic.
The biggest challenge of the project was concealing the plumbing, electrical, and HVAC systems in the limited space. Baer designed closets to house the building’s energy-efficient heat pumps and tucked the other systems under floors and behind walls. Figuring out the configuration of the outside ramp, which was funded by a Community Block Development grant from the city, was also a particular challenge.
The pandemic caused a final, two-year delay. “The support of the NoVo Foundation allowed us to bring the projection to completion,” said Smith. “Historic preservation requires a level of expertise, craftsmanship – artistry, if you will — along with the vision for adaptive reuse of space.”
Between 30 and 40 people worked on the project, some of them specialists in historic building techniques, as was the case for the contractor who crafted the two-toned striped metal roof, noted Baer.
Off the charts
The response to the finished project has been “off the charts,” reported Smith and Baer. “I didn’t know it was going to be like this, given how people of color are perceived,” said Smith. “People have been apologizing.” She noted that all along, residents in the area “have seen past the decay and neglect and been supportive,” including “one woman who liked to take pictures and put a big check in my hand.”
The building officially opened with a tour and concert in July. Performing in the outdoor parking area were Transart’s four artists in residence: trombonist Craig Harris, who played with Sun Ra and wrote the score for the award-winning film Judas and the Black Messiah; chief Baba Neil Clarke, who was Harry Belafonte’s percussionist; well-known vocalist Mala Waldron, whose father was Billie Holiday’s piano accompanist; and bassist Christopher Dean Sullivan.
Funding from Creatives Rebuild New York, a grant program initiated in response to the pandemic, pays the artists’ salaries and health benefits.
The musicians perform at occasional salons Transart hosts in the building. The next performance is scheduled for December 17 from 3 to 5 p.m. In February, an exhibition of works by the Ulster County-based Sole Reflections Photography Collective will be on display in the gallery.
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