For ninety-two years there stood in the heart of downtown a four-storey brick-and-stone structure with a carved stone front.  The idea of a custom carved stone front to your business impresses me: it tells me either you expect your business to last so long as to make it a worthwhile long-term investment, or your business rakes in such a lot of money from high-end clientele that the short-term investment in aesthetic proves worthwhile. 

For the Paine Drug Co., it appears to have been that both were true.

For something so simple and quotidean as a main street drug store, the history of the Paine building, its site, and its occupation begins surprisingly long ago. It begins in the infant town of Rochesterville in the year 1820, when a man named William Pitkin opened the village’s first ever drug store.

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William Pitkin

William Pitkin would serve as the 12th Mayor of Rochester, 1845-1847.

Pitkin’s drugstore was located on roughly the same site as the 1873-1965 Paine Building. A second building was constructed sited directly east, towards the bridge.

William’s wife was Louisa Lucinda Rochester, daughter of town founder Nathaniel Rochester. They lived at No. 38 South Washington Street.

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Lansing B. Swan

Brigadier General Lansing B. Swan was the founder of the Union Grays, the local militia whose roster was one of the treasures in the ball of the fallen Liberty Pole. Organized as a means of defending Rochester and its surrounds against threats, the Union Grays ended up being more of a charitable organization and social club.

An interesting note is that a passage from Lansing B. Swan’s “Journal of a Trip to Michigan in 1841” seems to indicate Swan’s drugstore was a very early adopter of soda fountains, and Swan himself had a hand in designing one he referred to as “Swan’s Atmospheric Fountain”, quite the poetic turn of phrase.

Saturday morning 12th .—Awoke by Mr. Temple. He said we were passing Walden on the Detroit River, (why call this a river?) it is a strait connecting Lake St. Claire with Erie. However the shores are beautiful. Breakfast on board, and by 8:30 o’clock reached Detroit. Now for a row with the runners; “Baggage for the National,” “Carriage for the Exchange,” etc., all talking at once. We go to the National where I am now writing.

Walked out and called at some of the drug stores: Talked about the dignified subject [of] soda water
and discussed most particularly the great advantages of Swan’s Atmospheric Fountain.
Great man that Swan to invent an article so useful to mankind in general and the soda mongers in particular.

Journal of a Trip to Michigan in 1841. Lansing B. Swan
https://tile.loc.gov/storage-services/service/gdc/lhbum/33633/33633.pdf

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Lane & Paine

Lansing B. Swan died in 1852; clerks Alfred S. Lane and Cyrus F. Paine purchased the business and reorganized it under their names, “Lane & Paine”.

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Alfred S. Lane

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Cyrus Fay Paine

While perhaps not as prominent vis-à-vis being able to find out much about them, Cyrus’ brothers James D. and Lemuel C. Paine were also instrumental in the operation of the Paine Drug Co. and the erection of the Paine Building:

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Paine Building Constructed

The second location of the drug store was in the Pitkin Block, a brick and stone building constructed by William Pitkin to the east of his original wooden pharmacy. It would remain in this building until 1873, when the Paine Building was constructed.

 Saturday, August 30, 1873
https://www.newspapers.com/article/democrat-and-chronicle-rochesters-busin/133481507/

In 1873, the brick-and-stone structure of the new Paine Drug building was constructed on the site of William Pitkin’s first drug store, next to the Reynold’s Arcade, then No. 20 Buffalo Street.

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Clarence Duncan Van Zandt

 If the name Van Zandt sounds at all familiar to you, you’re either up on your Rochester history, or it means you’ve been paying close attention to my blog posts [and there’s something wrong with your priorities in life.] Clarence D. Van Zandt was the son of John J. Van Zandt, who founded the Van Zandt family spice business at No. 11 Buffalo Street; which would in time become No. 39 East Main Street; which would eventually become home to J. C. Wilson’s pawnbrokers and jewelers.

In 1921, C. D. Van Zandt was nominated for mayor, and elected, serving 1922-1926 as the fiftieth mayor of Rochester, NY.

Mr. Van Zandt and his wife, Mary lived at No. 26 Rutger Street–which became No. 96 Rutgers Street in 1900–from 1894 until 1917, when Mary died. After Mary died, Van Zandt removed to an apartment at 285 Oxford Street, or “The Oxford”, popularly known as the present location of the Red Fern restaurant.

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Pharmaceutical Products

The products sold by Paine were various, and changed widely in scope during the business’ lifetime. Much like today, remedies from the efficacious to the traditional to the cutting-edge to utterly woo-woo nonsense were provided, replete with gushing ad copy espousing their benefits.

Images from defunct eBay listing for “Vintage Family Faradic Battery No. 10 Paine Drug Co. Quack Medical Device”

Above: a “Family Faradic Battery“; Every family has one, passed down generation to generation, gifted to new couples, a housewarming gift. You may be using yours now, as you read!

There’s lots of good insults here. You invalid cushion! You douche pan! You syrup of figs!

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An Old and Lasting Paine

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One Hundred Years of Paine

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Cutaway the Paine

If you’ve ever pored over a Stephen Biesty book you may enjoy the below: a blown-up cutaway illustration of the Paine Building published as an advertisement in the D&C.

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A nice drawing of the Paine building, above, shows the old-style sign. By the below photo from the 1950s, there is a vertical sign. It was quite fashionable in the period.

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Ending the Paine

Eventually, the Paine Drug Co. left its old building behind, like a monstrous commercial hermit crab stalking away from its cast-off four-storey stone shell. The vacant building quickly went to shit, becoming a firetrap and a home for urban wildlife.

In one dramatic incident, the top floors of the abandoned Paine Building erupted into flames, which drove a poor hapless raccoon from its home and out onto the sign. There it was stuck at a perilous height until being rescued the next day:

Starting in 1965 demolition began as part of the Genesee Crossroads urban renewal project, the same project which would tear the buildings off the Main Street Bridge and demolish Front Street, among myriad other historical destructions. However, demolition stopped cold on the Paine Building when it was discovered that a wall of the building was shared with and supporting its neighbor, the Reynolds Arcade. 

To some witty citizens it seemed that the work on the Paine Drug Building would never be complete. 

Ha-ha, Mr. Hess.  Very droll.

I can imagine it didn’t do much for the “up-and-coming city of the future” image the city was trying to project during this time to have a crumbling, half-razed 19th-century edifice in the heart of downtown.

The above photo has the Holiday Inn visible across the river, meaning it must have been taken in 1969 or early 1970 before the Paine Building was completely demolished.

And, after five years, just a couple years shy of its centennial, the venerable old structure was at last fully dismantled…

…to be replaced in 1976 with First Federal Plaza, or–as I like to call it–-The Robot Building.  Because it looks like a robot.  Other people say it looks like a spaceship, but they are objectively incorrect and I will brook no further discussion on the matter.

The head used to be a revolving restaurant, but now it’s a stationary restaurant.  Ooh, la la!

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In Lieu of Paine

Note the change in color on the east wall of the Arcade at the fifth storey: that was where Paine sat cheek-to-cheek with its architectural comrade for so many years.  I’m only anthropomorphizing the buildings to be poetic.

I’m not crying.

Alright, that’s probably enough. I wouldn’t want to subject you to any more Paine.