{"id":864219,"date":"2026-06-13T09:27:41","date_gmt":"2026-06-13T09:27:41","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/864219\/"},"modified":"2026-06-13T09:27:41","modified_gmt":"2026-06-13T09:27:41","slug":"a-century-old-pillar-and-column-maker-is-closing-in-nyc","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/864219\/","title":{"rendered":"A Century-Old Pillar and Column Maker is Closing in NYC"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/p>\n

One morning earlier this week, Thomas Lupo, the president and CEO of the American Wood Column Corporation, was in his office regaling two young entrepreneurs with tales of his 110-year-old family business. They had just learned that Lupo\u2019s company was about to close, and they\u2019d come to East Williamsburg to learn about his nearly extinct craft: making ornamental decoration from compo \u2014 a mixture of sawdust, glue and whiting. Lupo seemed a little surprised at their interest. \u201cNo one wanted me, and now they love me,\u201d said the 72-year-old. \u201cI should go out of business more often!\u201d<\/p>\n

Those in need of a 12-foot Corinthian pillar, elaborate crown moldings, or a rococo ceiling medallion should place their orders ASAP. Lupo believes his business is one the few compo-ornamentation outfits still operating in the United States. \u201cAnd we\u2019re the only one in New York. There\u2019s not much demand for it because people don\u2019t know what to do with it,\u201d said Lupo. But it isn\u2019t necessarily a slowdown in the industry that\u2019s nudging him to shut down. After 51 years in the business, he and his aging crew are thinking it\u2019s time to retire.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\n The American Wood Column Corporation warehouse on Grand Street.
\n Photo: Anne Kadet\n <\/p>\n

Lupo gave his guests a tour of his company\u2019s two-story brick warehouse on an industrial section of Grand Street. His grandfather, a jeweler from Italy, acquired the building and the business in 1916. \u201cThe rumor was someone owed him money and couldn\u2019t pay him, but this guy had the ornamental business. So my grandfather went and partnered with him, or bought it from him, or took it from him \u2014 and that\u2019s how he started,\u201d said Lupo.<\/p>\n

The business looks, and operates, much as it did in the early days.\u00a0The tour started in the second-floor showroom, where interior decorators, set designers, and architects choose from hundreds of display panels and a dusty jumble of pillars, pedestals, railings, and statuary. Much of the time, Lupo said, he has no idea what the project is for. A set of pillars might be destined for a Long Island mansion or a North Carolina plantation. A pedestal might be used in a restaurant or a store\u2019s window display. He can state with certainty, however, that he and his crew of four performed the elaborate restoration work for Kings Theater in Brooklyn<\/a> and carved the saddle mounts used for clothing displays at Ralph Lauren shops across the country. They created the iconic Saturday Night Live clock<\/a> seen at the top of the show and the staircase banister in The Exorcist. Don Corleone\u2019s grave marker<\/a> in The Godfather? That\u2019s his work too. \u201cIt\u2019s actually wood,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\n Lupo displays a mold in the compo room.
\n Photo: Anne Kadet\n <\/p>\n

The tour continued to the compo room, which houses a library of more than 9,000 ornamental casts, some dating back to the 1800s. Hand-labeled by number, they are stored like books, floor-to-ceiling, on shelves commanding three sides of the room. Here, craftsmen mix the compo and pour it into molds. When they dry, the ornaments \u2014 scrolls, rosettes, medallions, nosegays, feathers, curlicues \u2014 can be pressed onto surfaces like walls and ceilings, even furniture.<\/p>\n

But a few things have changed. For one, it\u2019s getting harder to source the ingredients needed for compo, especially hide glue, an adhesive made by boiling the collagen from animal skins, bones, and tendons. \u201cI\u2019m probably one of the few people in New York who needs hide glue,\u201d said Lupo, opening an ancient wood bin that holds three grades of the powdered adhesive. \u201cWhen I do it now, it\u2019s like a boutique thing. \u2018Oh, you want hide glue? We could get you a five-pound bag for $85.\u2019 I used to pay $40 for a 50-pound bag, you know? Well, it\u2019s just the way it is.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\n Craftsman Louis Robles at the lathe.
\n Photo: Anne Kadet\n <\/p>\n

Downstairs is the woodworking shop, which accounts for 90 percent of sales. Back in the day, when New York was crowded with manufacturers, the company churned out thousands of stands for nearby lamp factories, piano legs for Steinway, and furniture parts. During World War II, when metal was scarce, the company produced thousands of wood flare bombs used to light battlefield skies. But now, many of the orders are for movie sets and television shows like The Gilded Age, said Lupo, along with oddball projects like the 30-foot Tinker Toy replica he built for a Burning Man event and a wooden cake for Bob Hope\u2019s 75th birthday.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\n Lupo\u2019s father, Vincent Lupo, with a giant wood phone created for an an AT&T president\u2019s retirement party.
\n Photo: Courtesy of Thomas Lupo\n <\/p>\n

It might be surprising to hear that the bulk of his orders aren\u2019t coming from townhouse buyers on a renovation spree. Even among the Brooklyn brownstone set, ornamentation is out of style. In contrast to the restoration frenzy of the 1990s, people are once again ripping out old moldings in favor of sleeker looks. And folks building $10 million homes are happy with cheap pillars from Home Depot even as they spend $15,000 on a refrigerator and $30,000 on kitchen countertops. Lupo still shakes his head recalling the time he hand-delivered a box of small display pedestals to an East Side steakhouse. \u201cThese things are $40 each?\u201d said the restaurant manager, accepting the delivery. \u201cThat pissed me off,\u201d said Lupo. \u201cI said, \u2018You got some balls. First of all, I\u2019m doing your boss a favor. You\u2019re making me wait here, and while I\u2019m waiting, $12 for a baked potato? And you\u2019re calling me a thief!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\n A bust in the showroom of Lupo\u2019s grandfather, the company company founder Thomas Lupo. \u201cHe was very vain,\u201d said Lupo.
\n Photo: Anne Kadet\n <\/p>\n

Even so, the company is still doing enough business to support Lupo and his crew of craftsmen. \u201cBut if I didn\u2019t own the building, I would have been out of business years ago,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Back in his office, Lupo said he could keep the business going. He might even prefer to. But his crew of craftsmen \u2014 skilled workers from Ecuador and Puerto Rico who have been with the company for decades \u2014 are talking of retiring. And he has no idea how he might replace them: \u201cI wouldn\u2019t even know where to look.\u201d His only child, a daughter who is pregnant with what will be his first grandchild, is an events planner who has zero interest in the business. It\u2019s a shift from Lupo himself. While he studied business and education at St. John\u2019s University and briefly considered becoming a history teacher, there was never any serious question about whether he would take over from his father. \u201cI don\u2019t know if I took the path of least resistance or whatever, but I liked it,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

His favorite part of the job? The quirky artists, inventors, and set designers who need help with their projects. \u201cI always admire people who could think outside the box,\u201d he said. In fact, his business might have quietly vanished were it not for Ellen Harvey<\/a>, a Bushwick artist he met in 2013 when she asked him to help her make a spaceship out of columns for a show at the Corcoran Gallery of Art<\/a>. Last week, Harvey posted an SOS Reel on Instagram<\/a> \u2014 a 17-second pan of the compo room. \u201cI\u2019m so sad. I stopped by to say hi to Mr. Lupo at the American Wood Column Company and he\u2019s closing!!!!\u201d she wrote. \u201cThis is such a loss. Trying to figure out how to save all these molds. Once they\u2019re gone, they\u2019re gone \u2014 a whole vocabulary of ornament lost.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\n Ellen Harvey photographed display panels in the company show room. From left: <\/strong>Photo: Ellen Harvey\/B)2017 Etienne Frossard, all rights reservedPhoto: Ellen Harvey\/B)2017 Etienne Frossard, all rights reserved\n <\/p>\n

\n Ellen Harvey photographed display panels in the company show room. From top: <\/strong>Photo: Ellen Harvey\/B)2017 Etienne Frossard, all rights reservedPhoto: El… more
\n Ellen Harvey photographed display panels in the company show room. From top: <\/strong>Photo: Ellen Harvey\/B)2017 Etienne Frossard, all rights reservedPhoto: Ellen Harvey\/B)2017 Etienne Frossard, all rights reserved\n <\/p>\n

The post received hundreds of comments from followers mourning the loss of the business and offering ideas for how to save to the collection. \u201cThis is a potential tragedy \u2014 the Smithsonian should step in,\u201d wrote one commenter.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have a sense that we are living in a world that is changing very fast and we are losing things you can\u2019t get back,\u201d said Harvey. \u201cWhen you lose a skill, it\u2019s hard to regain that skill and pass it on. I think a lot of people miss the idea of things that are made by hand. Maybe they don\u2019t make economic sense, but they make a lot of emotional sense for people. And tastes change. Maybe ornament is not fashionable right now, and people think it\u2019s inherently reactionary in some way, but ornament can be for everyone, and beautiful, and kind of \u2018dictator chic\u2019 as well.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNow all these people are contacting him and offering help,\u201d she added. \u201cWeirdly, Instagram actually created a conversation and some options.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\n The wood shop\u2019s entertainment center.
\n Photo: Anne Kadet\n <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\n Display pieces.
\n Photo: Anne Kadet\n <\/p>\n

Among those contacting Lupo were that morning\u2019s visitors, including Micah Springut, founder and CEO of Monumental Labs<\/a> in Greenpoint, a startup that uses AI-powered robots to mill stone (his clients include Carnegie Hall and the Frick). \u201cIt\u2019s devastating to think it all might disappear,\u201d said Springut, surveying the showroom when Lupo was out of earshot. \u201cI hope he\u2019s not just getting rid of this stuff. There are certain things here we can use, like all of these capitals. We can have them in the shop, we can display them, we can scan them and we can digitize them. Once they\u2019re digitized, it\u2019s very, very simple to manufacture them.\u201d<\/p>\n

Back in his office, Lupo said he hadn\u2019t given much consideration to the future of his collection, much less his own future. \u201cI don\u2019t know what I\u2019m gonna do with myself,\u201d he said of his pending retirement. He wonders if he will regret it. \u201cPart of me is like, Maybe it\u2019s time to do other things. You know, be like my friends: \u2018Want to go for lunch?\u2019\u201d But he\u2019s been thinking of closing ever since the business reached its 100-year mark, and that was ten years ago. \u201cEverything comes to an end,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m impressed it lasted as long as it did.\u201d<\/p>\n