Greenwich Village Walking Tour: Follow Our Stroll in the Historic NYC Neighborhood

Published December 11, 2024

In this walking tour, you'll get a taste of all the varied groups and social movements that shaped New York City's Greenwich Village over the years.

But first, some background. Greenwich Village started as its own hamlet, a place where, as in Boccaccio’s Decameron, the well-to-do fled on an almost yearly basis to escape the plagues (recurrent bouts of yellow fever, mostly) of colonial Nieuw Amsterdam and then New York City. Building began in earnest in the 1820s and 1830s, with wealthy families constructing row house after row house in what was then a suburb.

Soon, of course, the city caught up and the hoi polloi were living just down the block,  prompting the blue bloods to do the 19th-century version of urban flight and move a mile uptown. Their swank houses were subdivided into cheap apartments and boardinghouses or torn down entirely to create factories. The neighborhood became home to immigrants and, later, artists.

The Village always retained its status as a place apart, however, thanks to the confusing configuration of its layout, a jumble of twisting byways and narrow streets. “The streets have run crazy and broken themselves ... into strange angles and curves,” O. Henry wrote. “One street crosses itself a time or two.”

In the 1960s and ‘70s, the charm of this urban topography, the quiet of the tiny streets cut off from upper Manhattan’s bustle, brought the well-to-do back, and the neighborhood once more became a hideaway for wealthy New Yorkers.

We begin at the Washington Mews, which you can enter at University Place or Fifth Ave. (between 8th St. and Waverly Place).

Visitors who stumble upon this cobbled alleyway discover a living slice of old New York. The north side of the mews consists of original 19th-century stables converted into stuccoed houses. The street, now a private one but open to the public, housed many artists, authors, and art lovers over the years including Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney (founder of the Whitney Museum) and author John Dos Passos.

To reach the next stop: Exit at University Place, turn right, and continue to Washington Place, where you'll turn left and continue to the northwest corner of Washington Place and Greene St.

On March 25, 1911, a horrific tragedy on this site reshaped the laws of New York State and the history of the American labor movement. On that Saturday, some 600 young women, mostly Jewish and Italian immigrants between the ages of 13 and 23, were hard at work in a garment factory on the eighth, ninth, and tenth floors of this building.

At 5pm, just as the workers were getting ready to leave, a fire broke out in the southeast corner of the eighth floor—no one has ever been able to determine the cause—and within minutes all three floors were an inferno. An inescapable one, it turned out, because many of the doors had been locked from the outside (to prevent theft, the owners said later).

Minutes after that, one of the fire escapes collapsed, and the elevator operator ran away in terror. A brave pedestrian named Joseph Zito rushed into the building, got the elevator working, and made five trips up and down again, saving 25 to 30 workers on each trip.

Fleeing the flames, several young women jumped to their deaths in front of horrified passersby. Those trapped inside suffocated from the smoke, while others were crushed in a heap at the locked doors.

In all, 146 people were killed at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, most within the first 10 minutes of the hour-long blaze.

After many protests, the state legislature responded to the tragedy by rewriting the labor code, making it the most stringent in the nation. The labor movement, struggling up to this point, gathered steam and the International Ladies' Garment Workers Union (ILGWU) became a force in the industry.

Pictured above: a 2015 demonstration honoring the victims of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, at the site where it happened

To reach the next stop: Turn back toward Washington Square and go to the northeast corner. 

Dash-dot-dot-dash—this is the birthplace of the telegraph. In 1836, New York University painting professor Samuel Morse formulated the rudiments of the telegraphic alphabet, aka Morse code. In 1837, using 1,700 feet of copper wire that he coiled around his room, Morse sent the first wire dispatches from one end to the other.

Witnessing the experiment, student William Vail, scion of a wealthy iron-making family, convinced his father to invest in the new technology—and together they created a revolution in communications. 

To reach the next stop: Turn around and enter Washington Square Park. 

Hangings, protests, burials, parades—if there’s another spot in New York that’s seen as much drama as Washington Square Park has, I’ve yet to hear of it. Located north of the first Dutch settlement in Manhattan, the area was originally a marshland, fed by the stream that still runs under nearby Minetta Lane (which we'll get to soon).

The site's first settlers were enslaved people who in 1641 were given partial freedom by the Nieuw Amsterdam government in return for farming this then-dangerous and remote acreage. The exchange was a mixed blessing—the farmers had to hand over a large part of their harvests to the colony, and, perhaps more disturbingly, became human alarm systems, set here to alert the Dutch should Native Americans or British forces try to attack.

In 1797, the drained swamp was designated a potter’s field. It proved necessary a year later when yellow fever swept through what had by then become New York City. Over 5% of the city's population died that muggy, mosquito-infested summer. The poorest were buried here—nearly 20,000 of them.

In 1826 the site became a military parade ground. Tales were told of soldiers' boots slipping through the crust of the dirt and crunching down on shroud-covered skeletons.

If all this weren’t haunting enough, the square was often used for public hangings, the condemned strung up on a massive elm tree that still stands on the park’s northwest corner.

Finally, in 1850, when Greenwich Village became fashionable, Washington Square was re-landscaped as a formal park. By the 1960s it had become a hangout for students, hippies, artists, and musicians performing for pocket change—a tradition that continues today. 

To reach the next stop: Walk toward the big arch—you can't miss it—standing at the park's 5th Ave. entrance. 

The magnificent white marble arch at the foot of 5th Ave. was designed by Stanford White, the second such arch he created. The first, made of wood and plaster, was erected in 1889 to mark the centennial of George Washington’s inauguration and to raise funds for this permanent arch, completed in 1892.

The sculpture on the right side of the arch, depicting Washington as President, Accompanied by Wisdom and Justice, was added in 1918 by Alexander Stirling Calder, father of the great modern artist and mobile-maker Alexander Calder. On the other side, we see Washington as Commander-in-Chief, Accompanied by Fame and Valor by Herman Atkins MacNeill, also tacked on in 1918.

Over the years, the arch has become a choice target for protesters. In 1918, Dada daddy Marcel Duchamp climbed up the 110 interior steps with his fellow members of the Liberal Club (including a woman who called herself “Woe” so she could declaim, “Woe is Me!”), carrying Chinese lanterns, food, wine, and cap guns, to declare Greenwich Village an “independent republic.” They were soon brought down by an unamused constable.

Less lighthearted was a 1968 takeover by the Students Against Racism and War, who barricaded themselves inside the arch to hang a banner protesting the Vietnam War. The door to the inner stairway has been bolted ever since.

To reach the next stop: Exiting the park at 5th Ave., turn right and look at the row houses along Washington Square N to University Place. 

You’re now looking at the longest unbroken string of Greek Revival town houses anywhere in the United States. New York University owns most of these; for that matter, the school owns much of the neighborhood.

But in the 1830s, when the houses were built, they were strictly for individual owners of the highest social class. The grandmother of Henry James lived here. He later used the area as inspiration for his novel Washington Square.

The use of Greek Revival architecture was no accident. In the mid-1820s, support for the Greeks—fighting for independence from the Ottoman Empire at the time—was all the rage among the upper echelons of Manhattan society. That's one reason (along with the notion that America was a modern version of ancient Greek democracy) why classical columns started popping up on buildings all over town, with Greek symbols incorporated into fences (as you’ll see in front of you), pedestals added to facades, and so on.

By the early 20th century, this strip had become run down, and many of the Village’s best-known bohemians moved in, including painters Edward Hopper and Thomas Eakins, and writer John Dos Passos. All three lived at #3 Washington Square North, though not at the same time.

Walk across the park to Judson Memorial Church, the boxy, ochre Romanesque church from 1929. It was another masterwork by architect Stanford White, who took his inspiration from the churches of Florence. The church was a center for immigrant life at the turn of the 20th century and became known in the 1950s and ‘60s for the progressive politics of minister Howard Moody, who sheltered protestors from the police and helped to overturn a short-lived ban on folk singing in the park. Today’s performers—and there are always groups making music in the park—owe a debt of gratitude to Moody.

Keep walking west, passing what is today New York University's Law School. When journalist John Reed (the subject of the Warren Beatty biopic Reds) was a tenant of a famous boardinghouse that once stood here, he wrote a poem about his artsy neighbors, whom he called “Inglorious Miltons by the Score / And Rodins, one to every floor.”

Be sure to take a look at the street names on this side of Washington Square Park. All were chosen to honor Washington’s Revolutionary War generals.

To reach the next stop: Exit at MacDougal St. on the southwest corner of the park. Continue till you reach the corner of MacDougal and W. 3rd St.

Caffe Reggio is the quintessential Village cafe. Founded in 1927, it claims to have introduced cappuccino to America, and has the huge copper machines to prove it. The cafe has appeared onscreen in Godfather II, Inside Llewyn Davis, and The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. 

To reach the next stop: Cross MacDougal St.

This perfect little brick federal town house is where Louisa May Alcott probably wrote Little Women. Can’t you just picture Professor Baer calling on the young writer here?

Actually, Alcott never had her own Professor. Her health damaged by work as a nurse in Washington, D.C., during the Civil War, she never married, instead spending her limited energies on writing and lobbying for women’s suffrage.

To reach the next stop: Continue on MacDougal St. until you come to Minetta Lane. 

Formerly a speakeasy called the Black Rabbit, this was a major literary hangout back in the day, serving poetry-inspiring booze and heaping plates of spaghetti to such notables as Ezra Pound, e. e. cummings, and Ernest Hemingway in the '20s; and Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, and Alan Corso in the '50s. Little-known fact: The very unbohemian Reader's Digest was founded on this very spot and published from the basement of the restaurant for several years. 

Today, Minetta Tavern, which retains most of its original 1937 fixtures, is owned by Keith McNally of Balthazar. The restaurant serves expensive French bistro fare.

To reach the next stop: Walk down the slight hill until you come to Minetta St.

Listen carefully: A stream still runs below this street, and on the rare quiet day, it’s possible to hear the gurgling. Though the byway is now one of the most charming in the city, when the stream was at street level this area was a muddy spot called “Little Africa" because it was inhabited entirely by free Black people starting in the 1820s.

In 1863 when Civil War draft riots sparked the worst violence in the city’s history, residents of this street successfully barricaded it for 5 days against the hooligans who killed 105 African Americans in other neighborhoods.

To reach the next stop: Continue down Minetta Lane until you cross 6th Ave. Turn left on Downing St.; then go to Bedfort St. and turn right. Take Bedford to Commerce St. and turn right, stopping at #38. 

Poet Edna St. Vincent Millay and her artist peers converted an 1817 box factory into the Cherry Lane Playhouse in 1924. It’s still a working theater. You'll have passed Millay's home at 13 Bedford Street on the walk here (there's not much to see there).

To reach the next stop: Continue following Commerce St. till it meets Hudson St. and turn right. Stop at the corner of Hudson and Grove streets.  

St. Luke in the Fields Church (487 Hudson St.) is a reconstruction of the original, which was built in 1822 and badly damaged by fire in 1981. One of the church’s founding wardens was Clement C. Moore, author of "A Visit from St. Nicholas"—better known by its opening words, "'Twas the night before Christmas."

To reach the next stop: With the church behind you, head down Grove St. till you reach #10–12, between Hudson and Bedford streets. 

This charming gated mews was once a slum, built for workingmen around 1853. It was known as “Mixed Ale Alley” because residents could only afford to drink the dregs at the bottom of the barrel. Today, Grove Court is one of the city’s most coveted addresses.

To reach the next stop: Continue to 17 Grove St. (at Bedford St.).

The 1822 house at 17 Grove St. (pictured above at left) is one of the last remaining wood-framed houses in the Village. The building across the street (pictured above at right) was used in the TV show Friends. It served as the exterior of the place where Monica, Rachel, Chandler, and Joey lived.

To reach the last stop: Continue along Grove St. for about 5 minutes, until you cross W. 4th St. and come to a small triangular park. 

This is the site of the famous riots that kicked the modern LGBTQ+ rights movement into high gear. Oddly enough, an organized-crime sting operation was the catalyst. By the 1960s, the Genovese crime family owned most gay bars in the Village, serving watered-down drinks to a community that didn’t have many other places to meet. Owners sometimes blackmailed wealthier customers with the threat of outing.

The family regularly paid off the police, but on June 28, 1969, the Stonewall Inn wasn’t tipped off in advance. When eight police officers showed up at 1:20am and started loading employees and customers into a police van, patrons began pelting cops with pennies, cans, bottles, and bricks. As the melee escalated, thousands of people rioted for another 5 days before order could be restored.

While these protests weren’t the start of the gay rights movement, they have been recognized as a galvanizing force. Today, Pride celebrations in New York and around the world take place on the anniversary weekend of the Stonewall Uprising. 

In 2016, President Barack Obama designated as a national monument the Stonewall Inn, Christopher Park, and the surrounding streets. You can learn more about LGBTQ+ history from rangers stationed in the park, and from various memorials and small museums that have been erected here.

To end your tour with a celebratory toast, head into the Stonewall Inn for a beer or cocktail. It’s still in operation and a very friendly place.

For more ideas to make the most of your time in New York City, pick up a copy of Frommer's New York City Day by Day, our walking-tour-filled guidebook available in our online store, in bookstores, and from online booksellers.