An ironworks foundry leaves its unusual mark on a Grand Street manhole cover

Stars, circles, curlicues, bubbles of glass—the late 19th and early 20th century manhole covers marking the streets and sidewalks of New York City contain all sorts of embossed visual motifs.

And almost always, the name of the ironworks foundry that created the cover is incorporated into the design. (These raised designs exist not to delight pedestrians but to keep people and horses from skidding across roadways in wet weather.)

But the makers of this metal cover on the gritty northwest corner of Grand Street and the Bowery—in front of the circa-1902 Bowery Bank of New York building—chose a more understated presentation.

At first glance, there’s almost no design at all, just a series of short raised bars. Then in the center is a faded and weathered bronze knob with the name of the foundry in an early 1900s font.

“Franklin Iron Works,” it reads. “One Franklin Square, New York, NY.”

The always informative website run by Walter Grutchfield, chronicler of manhole covers and other remnants of New York’s past, states that Franklin Iron Works melded metal at One Franklin Square from 1919 to 1949.

Franklin Square? This bustling junction at Pearl, Dover, and Cherry Streets established in the early 19th century was home to Harper’s Weekly and a Third Avenue El station. The square was demolished and replaced by a Brooklyn Bridge approach in 1950—a year after the ironworks left its East River-adjacent home.

Franklin Iron Works hasn’t been based in New York City for 76 years, and its imprint on city streets seems to be limited. Grutchfield has a photo of an identical manhole cover from this foundry on Wooster Street, but I’m unaware of any others.

So what’s the point of calling out this relic? It’s an unusual and easily missed example of how small companies leave their mark on the city—not in the form of a building or park or restaurant but as a functional object underfoot.