‘The Gentleman’s
Directory’ listed
houses of ill repute.

Encyclopedic in breadth but compact enough for the vest pocket of a 19th-century gentleman, the book was an insider’s guide to Manhattan, easily picked up at the newsstand before a night on the town, much the way tourists now consult a guidebook.

Only this palm-size book, published in 1870 and long hidden away at the New-York Historical Society, did not confine its anonymous critique to the quality of wines or the ambience of the 150 establishments listed between its covers. Rather, it defined its role as delivering “insight into the character and doings of people whose deeds are carefully screened from public view.”

Especially fragile, the book is usually kept under lock and key. At the request of The New York Times, however, the historical society exhibited it in February so readers could experience one of the more colorful and detailed guides produced on the ins and outs of New York City’s brothels.

Readers of the book, “The Gentleman’s Directory,” learned that “an hour cannot be spent more pleasantly” than at Harry Hill’s place on 25 East Houston Street. And they learned that Ada Blashfield of 55 West Houston Street had “eight to 10 boarders both blondes and brunettes,” playing host to “some of our first citizens.” The book also divulged that Mrs. Wright’s place at 61 Elizabeth Street had “everything that makes time pass agreeably,” and that Miss Jennie Creagh had spared “neither expense nor labor” at 17 Amity Street to conjure a “palace of beauty forever” out of French mirrors, rosewood furniture and fine bedding.

Just as historians might someday parse Zagat dining guides to see how our generation ate and lived, “The Gentleman’s Directory” provides this generation with a glimpse of the simultaneously libertine and puritanical city that came before it. Prostitution was illegal, but brothels were rampant after the Civil War, operating under the eyes of the police .

Timothy J. Gilfoyle, a professor of history at Loyola University in Chicago, put the number of brothels in Manhattan in 1870 close to 500 in his 1992 book “City of Eros: New York City, Prostitution, and the Commercialization of Sex, 1790-1920.” All nine brothels that advertised in the book were found to be “first-class.”

At least 50 other businesses got rave reviews. Sportsmen were advised to check out 25 Houston Street. Nervous types could rest easy at 128 West 27th Street, where a doctor was available. Those with a fetish for furnishings could call on 108 West 27th Street for a peek at the frescoes. And anyone craving conversation might have enjoyed the “seven beautiful young lady scholars” of the “Ladies Seminary’’ on 123 West 27th Street .

One of the stranger entries was 127 West 26th Street, run by a Madame Buemont. “There is a report of a bear being kept in the cellar but for what reason may be inferred,” the book reported.

Safe sex was delicately broached in the last page of the book in an ad that advised anyone needing “French imported male safes,” otherwise known as condoms, to see Dr. Charles Manches any time until 9 p.m. Another, possibly in-house, advertiser was John F. Murray of 57 West Houston Street, offering additional copies of the directory for $1 or copies of “Dr. Groves’s Marriage Guide” for 50 cents. Take your pick.


By ALISON LEIGH COWAN