a 1914 Renaissance Revival icon
on the edge of Hudson Yards
In 1914, the Underhill brothers — specialists in the construction of buildings made for printing presses — broke ground on a thirteen-story specialty loft on West 37th Street. The architects were Hill & Stout. The style was Renaissance Revival, in colored terra cotta. The building was wired for the new wonder of Edison electric service before its doors had even opened.
Long before any of this, the block sat in what the Dutch had once called the Great Kill District — a low-lying stretch of the colonial countryside then known as Newfoundland, named for the stream that drained three small tributaries into the Hudson.
By the mid-eighteenth century, this riverside ground had taken on another name: the Glass House Farm. Around 1758, four New York merchants — Matthew Ernest, Samuel Bayard, Stephen Atkinson, and John Milligan — opened a glass-bottle factory here as part of early Dutch-backed efforts to build a glass industry in the colony, calling themselves the Glass House Company of New York. The works ran for roughly a decade. A roadhouse, the Glass House Tavern, kept its sign on the property as a stage-coach stop for travelers along the post road, lasting through the Revolutionary War and after.
One hundred and fifty years later, the Underhills built on the same ground. The orchards were gone. The names — Glass House Farm, Glass House Tavern — survived in old deeds and surveyors' notes. They survive again now in the building's present one: The Glass Farmhouse Condominium.
From colonial farmland to printing-press palace to authentic loft residence — three centuries on a single block.
Four New York merchants — Ernest, Bayard, Atkinson, and Milligan — open a glass-bottle factory on riverside farmland on Manhattan's West Side, calling themselves the Glass House Company of New York. The works run a decade. A roadhouse, the Glass House Tavern, keeps its sign on the property as a stage-coach stop along the post road. The names hold the land for the next two centuries.
The Underhill brothers — specialists in printing-press loft construction — clear a five-story apartment house from the lot and break ground on a thirteen-story specialty loft, engineered for the immense weight of the presses. The architects are Hill & Stout. The style is Renaissance Revival, in colored terra cotta. The building is among the very first in the city to contract for Edison electric service before completion.
The Underhill Building fills with the trades of the printed page. Moss Photo Engraving — established 1871 — sets up beneath the cornice. Baer Brothers manufactures paints, varnishes, gold and aluminum leaf "with the two bears." Bachmeier & Co. supplies aniline dyestuffs. A. T. De La Mare prints the era's florists' guides and flower-seed catalogs. The TelAutograph Company transmits handwriting by wire.
A bright, busy stretch of West 37th in its prime — long-haul deliveries pulling up to the curb, buildings full of working trades, the print and paint floors going at a pace the avenue would maintain for another forty years. The Underhill stands at the center of the block, its terra cotta crown crisp against the sky.
By 1940, several of the surrounding low-rises have come down, and the Underhill rises clear above its neighbors. The painted sign at the parapet — Moss Bros., Est. 1876 — faces the new traffic on the avenue, readable for blocks. The presses keep running.
The presses fall silent. The building is converted to mixed use — fifty-two residences above twenty-one commercial spaces — and delivered as raw white box: pullman kitchen, hardwood floors, single bath. The twelve-and-a-half-foot ceilings and the original printing-floor windows are preserved. The lofts attract photographers, musicians, designers, and gallery names drawn by the sun, the scale, and a kind of Manhattan that, by then, had nearly stopped being made.
The building bears the colonial farm's memory in its present name. The lobby has been restored. The roof deck is landscaped, opening to the skyline of Hudson Yards — the most expensive private development in American history, risen on what was, until recently, an open rail yard. The orchard is gone. The address remains. One of the rarest, most authentic prewar lofts left in Manhattan.
Inks, dyes, photo engravings, and signatures sent by wire — the trades of the early-century printed page.
The Underhill Building, then under construction, was among the first specialty buildings in New York to contract for Edison Service. The advertisement ran in a 1914 industry journal — six months before the doors would open to the printing trades.
"Surely the cases cited in this journal each week are proof enough of how highly Central Station Service is esteemed by progressive building men."
The notice is a small artifact of a much larger turning. In 1914, electrification was new enough that one paid to be associated with it. The building's structural layout was, in the ad's own phrasing, "especially adapted" for printers and the allied trades — and from the start, it ran on current rather than gas.
A trio of commissioned illustrations marking the building's century: 1932, 1940, and the present day with its new neighbors rising.
This third illustration was commissioned to mark the most recent chapter — and it is, deliberately, two paintings at once. The Hudson Yards skyscrapers are rendered in soft blues, glassy and faded behind the building. A new luxury condominium climbs into the frame at left, its terraces stepped with greenery. They are tomorrow.
And yet, parked at the curb: the Model A sedans. The street lamp curves the way it did a hundred years ago. The Glass Farmhouse stands between them — neither erased by the new, nor frozen in the old. The juxtaposition is the story.
The Underhill Building was massed without setbacks — a privilege of the city before the 1916 zoning law. Brick rises thirteen straight stories from the sidewalk, dressed at top and bottom in colored terra cotta of distinctly Renaissance Revival cut.
The two-story base, faced in rusticated terra cotta blocks, opens through pointed-arch entrances with molded archivolts and corner urns. Above them, the central bays bloom into oversized windows — the deliberate generosity of a building made for the printed page, where natural light was a working tool. Brick piers frame slender side bays. Three top stories close the composition with quoins, urn-carved piers, and a denticulated cornice that runs the length of the façade. By night, soft uplighting traces every detail.
A working loft above, a working studio below, and a façade that has carried both for more than a century.
A communal deck running the length of the building, with skyline on every side.
The deck runs the length of the building. Wooden water towers, the original kind that crown New York's prewar lofts, rise at the center of the roof. Tile pavers, planters of grasses and herbs, communal tables and chairs, a small herb garden labeled in the building's blue.
From up here, the view is 360° — the Empire State to the east, the Hudson Yards towers to the west, the river beyond. By day it's a place to read; at sunset, a place to gather. The deck is residents-only.
Seventy-three units behind a double address: fifty-two residences at 448 West 37th, and twenty-one commercial units at 438 — twenty creative studios on the second through fifth floors, plus the ground-floor storefront.
The Glass Farmhouse occupies a full block-front with two entrances. 448 opens to the residential lobby and the upper-floor lofts. 438 opens to the lower-floor commercial studios — long the working homes of photographers, painters, musicians, and designers, several of whom have been in the building since the 1981 conversion. Roughly a third of the original 1980s artist-residents still own here today. Among the building's celebrated current and former residents are names known in fashion, photography, music, architecture, and the gallery world — kept here, by long preference, in the company of neighbors rather than press.
Each loft was a blank canvas at conversion — pullman kitchen, hardwood floors, a single bath — to be imagined floor by floor by its owner. Many remain dramatic, near-original loft volumes today.
The structural scale of presses and embossing machines — preserved as residential rarity. Some lofts span sixty feet wall to wall.
Upper floors look west across the Hudson; the lower bays preserve the Renaissance Revival storefront in colored terra cotta.
The lower floors hold twenty-one commercial units — entered through the second address at 438. Twenty are working studios on the second through fifth floors: photographers' shooting floors, musicians' rehearsal rooms, designers' studios, some here for forty years. The twenty-first is the ground-floor storefront. The building's character today is shaped, more than anything else, by the fact that it never stopped being a place where things are made.
Behind its prewar façade, the building runs on a modern energy spine — a centralized boiler-management system, thermostatic radiator valves for room-by-room control, and upgraded efficient lighting with occupancy sensors — earning the city's top energy grade under Local Law 84.
Step out the door and you stand at the seam of two New Yorks — pre-war Midtown to the east, the twenty-five-billion-dollar Hudson Yards to the west.
This insurance atlas shows the building (★) on a fuller block than the one that survives today. Just east stood the 20th Precinct station house; toward Tenth Avenue, a piano factory. A century on, the police station and most of its neighbors are long gone — the block has been continuously remade ever since.
What you see around it now — Hudson Yards rising to the west, the High Line lifting in from the south, a new neighborhood park of three and a half acres planned just north of the building — is the latest layer in a stretch of Manhattan that has been continuously remade for more than a century.
elevated park · nearest entrance at 34th & Hudson Boulevard · proposed extension toward Hudson River Park
elevated bridge linking Penn Station to the High Line · opened 2023
green space and a children's playground running 33rd to 37th between 10th & 11th Avenues
3.5 acres of green space planned just north of the building
the most expensive private development in U.S. history
the highest outdoor sky deck in the western hemisphere
the dance and performing-arts incubator · adjacent
three michelin stars · across the street
a center for artistic invention
amtrak · long island rail road · new jersey transit
at hudson yards