Showing posts with label upper west side. Show all posts
Showing posts with label upper west side. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 26, 2019

Neville & Bagge's 1916 325 West End Avenue




The Upper West Side embraced the concept of multi-family living early on.  At the turn of the last century scores of brick and brownstone residences, erected only 15 or 20 years earlier, were razed for apartment buildings.   In 1915 the Charmon Construction Company demolished eight rowhouses at the northwest corner of West End Avenue and 75th Street to make way for one more.

Designed by the firm of Neville & Bagge, the 12-story structure, completed in 1916, was essentially Renaissance Revival in design.  The architects splashed an otherwise austere facade with sumptuous terra cotta ornament tinted to match the orange-brown Roman brick.   It structure cost $600,000 to construct, in the neighborhood of $13.8 million today.

The elaborate entrance under a glass and iron marquee featured a terra cotta frame of vases, shields and swags upheld by engaged Doric columns.  Pseudo balconies clung to second floor openings, and ornate panels decorated the third floor beneath a complex terra cotta cornice.

The hue of the terra cotta balconies is an almost exact match to the brick.

The two-story framings and balconettes of the windows at the fourth and fifth as well as the topmost floors were worthy of a doge's palace.   Striking, hefty balconies adorned the ninth floor.  

No. 325 West End Avenue was designed as two connected wings with a light court between.   Each section contained two apartments per floor.  The western wing held one 11-room suite and one 5-five apartment per floor.  The wing fronting West End Avenue had 9 and 7 room apartments on each floor.


Oddly enough a canvas awning extends from beneath the marquee in this 1919 photo.  photo by Wurts Bros from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Steven Kates, in his 2017 book Family Matters! A Memoir, recalls some of the details incorporated for the upscale families who would occupy the sprawling spaces.  "Our apartment had two master bedrooms and two servants rooms off the kitchen, in which there was a call board which indicated which 'chamber' was buzzing for assistance (call buttons in the two bedrooms and the living room, with a floor button under the dining room table)."

Structures on the roof, invisible from the street, held the laundry, a servants' bathroom for those chambermaids doing the wash, and three auxiliary servants rooms.

Among the first tenants were Joseph B. Greenhut and his wife, the former Clara Wolfner.  A Gettysburg hero, he retained the title of captain.  In 1902 he purchased the massive Siegel-Cooper department store on Sixth Avenue, and in 1906 he bought Benjamin Altman's emporium directly across the avenue for his Greenhut & Co. drygoods store.  

Greenhut's investments were ill timed, however.  Retailers were abandoning the Ladies' Mile and moving further north.   In 1914 the Siegel-Cooper store failed and the following year Greenhut & Co. closed.  Joseph Greenhut admitted "As one after another big concerns quit and moved away we were left high and dry to fight the fight alone."

Despite the significant losses, the Greenhuts continued their upscale lifestyles.  One of their first entertainments in No. 325 was their golden wedding anniversary.  On October 15, 1916 The Evening Telegram reported on their "informal reception at their house."   The New York Times agreed that it was informal, since no invitations were issued, yet estimated that "About four hundred called to offer congratulations."

Following the reception the Greenhuts' son, Richard, hosted a dinner where the "entire entertainment suite on the second floor of Sherry's was used."  In reporting on the event, The Times reminded readers that the Greenhuts' summer home, Shadow Lawn, in Long Branch, New Jersey was "now occupied by President and Mrs. [Woodrow] Wilson."




Superintendents of high-end apartment buildings held sway over which suppliers of ice and milk, for instance, were admitted.  It was fertile ground for bribes.  And Lucius M. Kimball was not adverse to augmenting his wages by graft.  He found himself defending himself in court, however, on December 5, 1916.

The State had noticed that the price of household milk was inexplicably high compared with the cost of producing it.  An investigative body, the Wilks Committee, discovered that consumers were paying for the kickbacks enjoyed by superintendents.

Kimball came clean on the stand, admitting he received $1.50 from Sheffield Farms for every customer in the building.  When asked about the ice dealer, he identified Corcoran & Ward. "I think they pay $2 a customer...They've made two payments--around $50 for the two."  The payback would be equal to a little over $1,000 today.  He went on to name the daily newspaper vendor, and the baker (although the latter paid him him in "a loaf of bread and five rolls each morning").  Kimball told the judge "It's embarrassing to say so, but it's the situation."   But the temptation was understandable.  The bribes he received from the vendors easily matched or surpassed his $150 per month salary.

In June 1918 Joseph Greenhut suffered symptoms of heart trouble; and then on October 14 he suffered a heart attack.  Ten days later The New York Herald reported he was "seriously ill of heart disease at his home No. 325 West End Avenue."  The family, said the article, was "holding out hope" for the recovery of the 75-year old.

Greenhut lingered, bedridden.  His eldest son read him the happy news of armistice on November 12 after which the old man commented that he could now die content.  He did so five days later.

Social columns routinely followed the movements of the well-to-do residents and announced the debutante entertainments, engagements and weddings of their daughters and sons.   Among such prominent families were those of residents Arthur Harris, Michael William Dippel, and Henry F. Tiedemann.  Before 1920 the family of well-known attorney Charles Arndt was in the building.   His name often appeared in newspapers connected with the settlement of large estates.  

Every family in the building maintained a small domestic staff, as repeatedly reflected in help wanted ads.  One, for instance, in February 1921 sought "Maid--Wanted personal maid for one lady, one who is also willing to assist with light chamberwork...Protestant preferred."  Later that year the tenant in apartment 1-D needed a "Girl, French, for girl 12 years old and sewing."

The advertisements always demanded references and interviews, of course, were intensive.  But the precautions did not always prevent servant troubles--as Mrs. Estelle Lowenthal discovered in 1926.

The Lowenthal's chambermaid, Freda, was doing more snooping than cleaning in their bedroom when she discovered love letters to Estelle from another man.  Freda pocketed the incriminating evidence and quit her job.  When she telephoned her former employer and threatened to expose her, Estelle hung up the phone.  And then she went to the police.

Certain that her former mistress would pay for the letter, Freda convinced Marcell Dreifuss, who was in love with the out-of-work maid, to go to the apartment and extort payment.   When he arrived he demanded $25,000 for the letter.  Instead, detectives who had been staking out the apartment arrested him.  In court on August 9, 1926, his attorney John Caldwell Myers explained to the judge that he was blinded by love.  "His weakness lay in what the poet has chosen to refer to as 'The light that lies in woman's eyes.'"   The defense did not work.


The light court which sliced between the east and west wings provided additional ventilation and sunlight to the apartments.

The Arndt family was still living here when son Christian was married to Louise Clausen in a notable society wedding in St. Barthlomew's Church on October 10, 1933.   The reception was hosted by George F. Baker, Jr. and his wife, in their grand mansion at No. 75 East 93rd Street

At mid-century the occupants of No 325 West End Avenue continued to be still upscale and it appears that one or two servants' rooms in the apartments fell short for some.  In 1948 a penthouse level was added containing a single apartment plus eight maid's rooms rentable to residents.

The affluence of the residents was evidenced in May 1956.  As with all upscale apartment buildings, No 325 essentially emptied out for three months in the summer when residents left for their country homes.  When Mrs. Frances Bleiberg arrived at her "summer bungalow" at Lake Peekskill near the town of Putnam Valley she found it ransacked.

Although some articles like an expensive camera and a radio were taken, the thieves were most interested in clothing.  More interesting than the description of Frances's things were the items stolen from her husband.  Included were six pairs of cashmere socks, two pairs of alligator shoes, and a cashmere jacket.  The jacket was valued at more than $1,000 in today's money.

There were, of course, people involved in the entertainment industry here as well.  On the 6th floor in the 1960's was Gene Callahan, a Hollywood production designer and director who won three Academy Awards for America, America, The Cardinal, and The Hustler.  

Jazz drummer, instructor and author Melvin Sokoloff, known professionally as Mel Lewis lived on the second floor with his wife, Doris, and their three daughters beginning in 1976.  Nominated for 14 Grammy Awards during his career, he was a fixture at clubs like the Village Vanguard in the 1970's and '80's with his Mel Lewis and the Jazz Orchestra.

Lewis's biographer Chris Smith, in his 2014 The View from the Back of the Band, noted Apartment 2C "also became the hub for his teaching and mentoring of musicians.  Many of today's greatest jazz musicians spent countless hours in that apartment listening to and talking about music with Mel."

The musician was diagnosed with melanoma in the late 1980's.  He died still living here on February 2, 1990.

The building got its brush with cinematic fame in 2004 when it served as the home of characters Joanna and Walter Eberhart (played by Katherine Ross and Peter Masterson) in The Stepford Wives.  The couple moved out of the building to settle in the idyllic village of Stepford, Connecticut, with unhappy results.



No. 325 was converted to co-ops in 1972.   The address got another celebrated resident in 2016 when actress and comedian Ellie Kemper and her husband, writer and producer Michael Koman, bought an apartment.

photographs by the author

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

The 1916 Astor Court - Broadway and 89th Street


photo by Jim Henderson
On June 20, 1914 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that architect Charles A. Platt had filed plans for a 12-story "store and apartments" building to fill the eastern blockfront between 89th and 90th Streets.   The million-dollar structure, more than 25 times that amount in today's money, would be the first large-scale project for the 23-year old multimillionaire, Vincent Astor.

Completed two years later, Platt's sedate brick neo-Renaissance structure sat on a two-story rusticated limestone base.  The understated facade could boast little ornamentation.  Ambitious stone balconies surmounted the entrances on 89th and 90th Streets, and two others clung to the fifth floor cornice on the Broadway elevation.   The crowning copper cornice made a statement.  Projecting fully eight feet from the facade, it was brilliantly painted in gold and red.


The proportions of the deeply-projecting cornice can be gauged by the window below.  Architecture, September 1916 (copyright expired)  

Most innovative was Platt's treatment of the courtyard within the U-shaped structure.  Rather than using it as a turn-around for automobiles picking up and dropping off residents, he created a restful refuge.  The New York Times noted it "is adorned with a fountain in the centre of a formal garden."

Despite the presence of the well-known Astor Court Building on West 34th Street, or perhaps because of it, Astor named the new structure the Astor Court.  Residents entered through two entrances, under glass marquees, at No. 205 West 89th Street and 210 West 90th.  Stores installed in the Broadway ground floor provided additional income.


The exquisite glass-and-iron marquees have been replaced with canvas awnings.  Architecture, September 1916 (copyright expired)  
On October 31, 1916 The American Architect complained of overall disappointing apartment design.  "So much speculative building and attendant poor architecture have characterized this type of building in New York."  But it pointed to the Astor Court as an example "of what can be accomplished," adding "The features of domesticity, privacy and refinement are everywhere apparent in the Astor Court Apartments."

The New York Times, on April 23, had called the building "noteworthy" and "decidedly the superior of many of the Park Avenue houses" in "genuine architectural dignity."

Astor's marketing included opening a model apartment in the newly-finished building.  An advertisement in the New-York Tribune on June 18, 1916 announced that it was "open for inspection."

A Model Apartment completely furnished by the Interior Decoration Division of Gimbel Brothers, as a suggestion to lovers of fine apartments everywhere.  Furniture, Hangings and Floor Coverings.  You are cordially invited to enjoy this exhibit.

There were eight apartments per floor, ranging from seven to nine rooms.   It would quickly become home to well-to-do residents--some them both celebrated and colorful.
Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, December 2, 1916 (copyright expired)

On May 11, 1916, as the Astor Court was nearing completion, a cable from London reached The New York Times that announced the marriage of Winfield R. Sheehan and Kay Laurell.  Both were well-known in the entertainment field.

Sheehan, who had started out as a reporter for The Evening World and then as secretary to former Police Commissioner Rhinelander Waldo, was now a vice-president of Fox Film Corporation and one of its major stockholders.  Kay Laurell was a Broadway actress whom The Times pointed out "was considered one of the handsomest girls in Mr. Ziegfeld's last year's 'Follies,' when the revue was presented at the New Amsterdam."  Along with the news of the marriage, the article managed to remind readers that Kay had appeared on stage in an "exotic scene...wrapped in gauze and stage sunlight" and "at the end of one of the acts strapped to the muzzle of a cannon."


Kay Laurell -- from the collection of the Library of Congress
In fact, Kay Laurell, who started out as an artists' model as a teenager, had been discovered by Florenz Ziegfeld and became famous for her striking beauty and her willingness to disrobe.

Two months earlier, opera star Geraldine Farrar was married to Lou Tellegen, considered one of the handsomest actors on screen or stage.  On February 6 The New York Times explained "The prima donna and the actor first met in New York last Winter, when Miss Farrar was singing at the Metropolitan and Mr. Tellegen was appearing in the principal role of 'Taking Chances.'"  By now they had appeared in three silent films for the Jesse L. Lasky Feature Film Company.  She was his second wife.

Both sets of newlyweds moved into the Astor Court Apartments.  
Geraldine Farrar and Lou Tellegen posed for a domestic photograph in 1916, possibly in their Astor Court apartment.  from the collection of the Library of Congress
Irene Taylor also lived in the Astor Court at the time.  The well-to-do widow had recently moved to New York from Minneapolis.  Although she was not famous, her name would soon become well-known to newspaper readers.

William Baer Ewing was president of the Ford Tractor Company, based in Minneapolis.  He was obligated to come to New York after he was indicted by a Federal Grand Jury for mail fraud "in connection with the exploitation of the company's stock," as explained by The Evening World.  Some eyebrows were raised when he chose not to check into a hotel, but moved into Irene Taylor's apartment.

The unseemly arrangement did not escape the notice of Edward L. Kelly and Daniel Finn.  On August 13, 1917 they knocked on the apartment door.  When Ewing answered, they flashed a badge and identified themselves as Federal agents Hollahan and Doherty.

When Ewing asked them the purpose of the call, one replied "You know the Mann white slave law."  (The 1910 Mann Act made transporting females across state lines for the purposes of prostitution a felony.)   Ewing immediately realized he was the target of extortionists.

The men suggested they all walk to Riverside Drive where they sat on a bench.  Ewing later testified that, playing along,  "I asked them what it was worth to hush up the matter and they told me that as I was a pretty good sort of a little fellow they would not go hard with me and $5,000 would do."

The next morning Ewing was in office of Federal authorities, accompanied by his attorney.  They provided him with marked bills to take to his appointment the following afternoon.  When the payment was made, undercover detectives moved in and arrested the crooks.

Nevertheless, the embarrassing fact that Irene Taylor had a man living with her was now well publicized.  The Evening World noted that at the trial Kelley was asked "how he knew that Ewing was living with a woman not his wife."

In the meantime, things were not going well in the Sheehan apartment.  On July 3, 1917 Kay went to White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia.   On the 16th Billboard magazine explained she "is recovering from a nervous breakdown."  The article added "Mrs. Sheehan retired from the stage when she became the wife of Winnie Sheehan.  It is said as soon as her health is restored she will return to the footlights in a musical production."

But there was more to the story.  The following day the New-York Tribune reported she had sued for separation.  "The actress alleges cruelty," said the article, adding "Shortly after the marriage, she says, Sheehan commenced a course of unkind, harsh and tyrannical conduct toward her."

Although the couple never divorced, they never reconciled.  Laurell returned to the stage and to her scandalously revealing costumes.  She appeared in Zeigfeld's patriotic pageant The Spirit of the Allies in 1918.  H. L. Mencken described her as being gifted "with all the arts of the really first-rate harlot" in his 1918 In Defense of Women.  

Still married to Sheehan, she died in childbirth in 1927.  The father was the son of Yukon lumberjack and secret agent Klondike Joe Boyle.

Winfield Sheehan left New York when the motion picture industry moved to Hollywood.  He won an Academy Award as Fox studio head for Cavalcade and was nominated three more times.

Another of the original tenants related to the theater were William Frederick Peters and his wife.   The composer wrote scores for plays and then films.   When silent movies were screened they were accompanied by musical scores.  Among those written by Peters were scores for Way Down East, Orphans of the Storm and Little Old New York.

His wife left the theatrical side of things to him, focusing instead on entertaining.  On April 26, 1918, for instance, The Sun announced "Mrs. William F. Peters of 205 West Eighty-ninth street, will entertain Saturday afternoon, May 4, in honor of Miss Priscilla Bigelow of Boston."

Sometime before this Geraldine Farrar and Lou Tellegen moved to No. 20 East 74th Street and turned their Astor Court apartment over to Geraldine's parents.  Her father, Sidney Douglas Farrar, had been a sort of celebrity in his own right.  A professional baseball infielder, he played from 1883 through 1890.


Sidney D. Farrar in his playing days, from the collection of the New York Public Library
Henrietta Barnes Farrar invited a dozen men and women, four reporters and two publishers to her drawing room on May 1, 1920.  The guest of honor was Mary McEvilly, who claimed to be the spiritual conduit of 15th century Hindu spirit Meslom.

According to The New York Herald, "It was the largest gathering, both Mrs. Farrar and Miss McEvilly explained, that Meslom ever had been called upon to greet at one time through her pencil point, but the medium and the hostess expressed assurance of a satisfactory sitting."

Participation from the apprehensive participants was tepid "until a question on prohibition was injected into the ether.  That broke the ice and queries flowed freely thereafter."  Meslom correctly predicted that the "'drys' will lose."

Reporters would haunt the 90th Street entrance of the Astor Court the following year in August in hopes of catching Geraldine Farrar coming or going from her parents' apartment.   The diva had locked Lou Tellegen out of the 74th Street townhouse, not even allowing him to retrieve his clothing.

Tellegen had just returned to New York from a "shack" he had rented in Long Beach, California.  Geraldine told her friends "he was there in order to have the quietude necessary to learn the long role in his new play."  (That play, L'Homme a la Rose, was being produced by Archibald Selwyn, who perhaps not coincidentally lived in the Astor Court.)  Perhaps Geraldine discovered that her husband's female secretary was also there.

On August 7, 1921 The New York Herald surmised "Whatever has come about to disturb the serenity of the married life of Lou Tellegen and Geraldine Farrar, it is of recent development."  The journalist suggested it could be the stark differences in the current successes of their careers.  While Geraldine Farrar continue to be in high demand on the operatic stage, she was equally popular in films.  Between 1915 and 1920 she had made more than a dozen motion pictures including Cecil B. De Mille's 1915 Carmen.  Tellegen, on the other hand, had hit his professional nadir.

"It long has been the subject of comment in theatrical circles that Miss Farrar so patiently continued her interest in Tellegen's enterprises.  Not a single one of them has met with success in New York.  He was last seen in a play by Augustus Thomas called 'The Blue Devil,' which failed so completely that it was never seen in this city."

Attempts to find her at the Astor Court were unsuccessful.  On August 7 The New York Herald reported "At 210 West Ninetieth street, the apartment house in which Miss Farrar provides a home for her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Farrar, it was [said] 'She comes here sometimes, but not to-day.'"


In retaliation Tellegen filed for separation; but his attorneys had a challenging task in serving papers on Geraldine.  Five paid witnesses loitered about the northwest corner of 74th Street and Central Park West, where they could see the Tellegen house.  On the evening of August 4, after they reported that she left in a car with her parents and two other women, a lawyer set an ambush.

When the automobile returned at around 11:20 p.m., the witnesses rushed up, pretending to be fans.  As Geraldine stepped out, one said "Is this Miss Farrar?"  Suspecting nothing more than a request for an autograph, she answered "Yes, I am Miss Farrar," at which point the woman said "I have a letter for you."  The attorney quickly thrust the envelope at Geraldine.

The New York Herald reported that she "did not take it, but quickly jumped out of the car and hurried into her home, calling out to the supposed admirer as she did so: 'That was very nice of you.'"  The envelope had fallen to the floorboard of the automobile.  The process server picked it up and handed it to Henrietta Farrar.  Since it had touched Geraldine, it was deemed served.  

Tellegen's complaint, it turned out, was that Geraldine "was unwilling to rear a family, as she deemed it incompatible with her career as an artist," according to The New York Herald on August 9.  In fact Tellegen had carried on several affairs during the marriage.  

The irate star agreed to relinquish her husband's clothing; but she refused to allow him back into their home to retrieve them as he requested.  Neither would she send them to his hotel.  Instead she sent them to the Manhattan Storage Warehouse where, she said, "he is at liberty to call for them."

Her parents continued to be in the scopes of the press.  The New York Herald even tried to find her at the Farrar summer home at Chateaugay Lake in the Adirondacks.  

Tellegen's life (including two more marriages, to actresses Nina Romano and Eve Casanova) following his 1923 divorce from Geraldine would be tragic.  His career had relied greatly on his good looks; but on Christmas Day 1929 he fell asleep while smoking.  His face was seriously burned.

Following extensive reconstructive surgery in 1931, he became increasingly despondent.  On October 29, 1934 while a guest in a Hollywood mansion, he locked himself in a bathroom, then committed suicide by stabbing himself seven times with a pair of scissors.  Reportedly his body was surrounded by newspaper clippings of his former stellar career.

When Geraldine Farrar was notified of his death, she famously replied "Why should that interest me?"

In the meantime, Archibald Selwyn who had attempted to help Tellegen in 1921 lived on with his wife in the Astor Court.  Like Winfield Sheehan, he had gotten in on the ground floor of a major film company.  He and his brother Edgar, had joined Samuel Goldfish (who was later professionally known as Samuel Goldwyn) in forming Goldwyn Pictures Corporation.

Selwyn divided his time among writing screen plays, managing New York theaters and producing plays.  He and Edgar, as Selwyn & Company, erected three New York theaters, the Apollo, the Selweyn and the Times Square.  They produced the first Pulitzer Prize-winning play, Jesse Lynch Williams's Why Marry? in 1917.

When his sister, actress Rae Selwyn was married to F. Maitland Goldsmith on March 28, 1922, the celebrity-filled reception was held in the Astor Court apartment.

In 1924 the Selwyn brothers parted ways and Archibald (known popularly as "Arch") continued producing plays like Noel Coward's 1925 Easy Virtue and his 1928 This Year of Grace.

Of course not all the residents of the Astor Court were in the theatrical field.  Ernesto G. Ros was one of the owners of the Santa Fe sugar central--a massive sugar processing firm--in Santo Domingo.  When his daughter Flora became engaged to William H. Davis in May 1922, the New-York Tribune described it as being "of interest" to society.  The wedding was performed on October 26 in the fashionable St. Thomas's Church on Fifth Avenue, and the reception held at Sherry's.

Less uplifting press surrounded Clarence G. Hellman earlier that year.  The 47-year old was the head of Hellman, Straus & Co., lace manufacturers and importers.  But the firm was in deep financial trouble and on February 10 an application for receivership was made in the United States District Court.  The papers showed liabilities amounting to $950,000--a staggering figure approaching $14 million today.  The pressures were too much for Hellman.

That night as his partner, Milton Straus, prepared to go home he stopped by Hellman's office to say good-night.  He found the door locked and there were no reply from inside.

Straus and a salesman, Herman Simon, stood on chairs to look into the transom.  Hellman, who was at his desk slumped forward, did not respond to their shouts.  When a policeman was called and the door broken in, it was discovered that Hellman had shot himself in the head with a pistol.

The Astor Court, unlike some hulking apartment houses from the beginning of the century, did not decline.  It continued to house well-heeled residents like August W. Kelley, retired vice president and trustee of the Union Trust Company.  He died in his apartment on December 4, 1930.   The well-known urological surgeon Dr. Emanuel Donheiserf and his wife, Sally, lived here in the 1960's; as did actor-director Stanley Prager and his wife, television and screen actress Georgann Johnson.


Stanley Prager original source unknown

Prager had been a stage and film actor before going into directing.  He told an interviewer in 1969 that he played "all the parts that Phil Silvers wouldn't play."  He said that directing television commercials gave him the financial independence to do projects he liked.   Not wanting to be tied down to a single activity, he sometimes gave up directing highly successful television shows.  He directed "Car 54, Where Are You" for just one season, and "The Patty Duke Show" for two.

On May 26, 1985 Michael DeCourcy Hinds, writing in The New York Times, called the Astor Court "one of the best examples of the dozens of 13-story buildings erected along Broadway" at the time of its construction.  He noted "The building is now being converted into cooperatives and Stephen B. Jacobs, a Manhattan architect, has designed 10 new penthouse apartments on the roof."  The renovations were completed later that year.


The lobby as it appeared in 1916 Architecture, September 1916 (copyright expired)  
Is little changed today.  photo via streeteasy.com
Architecturally, little has outwardly changed to Vincent Astor's and Charles A. Platt's bold residential project.  And although the protruding copper cornice no longer wears its exotic red and gold paint, it remains a showstopper.

Tuesday, February 12, 2019

The J. Milton Doremus House - 320 West 80th Street




In 1898 the Riverside Building Co. began construction of a row of eight rowhouses that would begin at No. 320 West 80th Street and wrap around the corner to No. 74 Riverside Drive.   In fact, the architect of the row, Clarence True, owned the development firm.  By now the prolific designer was so successful that he could be a one-man show; eliminating the need for a developer or contractor.

Clarence True routinely worked in historic styles and for this project he chose Elizabethan Renaissance Revival.  The total cost of the project was estimated at $266,000--more than $1 million each today.  Six of the homes were faced in red or tan brick.  No. 320 West 80th Street, on the other hand, wore a suit of chunky red ashlar which, coupled with the full-height rounded bay, gave this narrow, 17-foot wide structure a turret-like appearance.

True's choice of ashlar, the same sandstone used by Henry Hobson Richardson in his masterful North Congregational Church in Massachusetts, gave the structure a redder, less heavy appearance than the more ubiquitous brownstone.  While the blocks of the second through fourth floor were undressed, that ground floor facade was formally planar.  Here delicate carvings graced the arched openings, spandrels and the frieze below the cornice.

Facade repair resulted in the loss of carving.  True did his best to make the service entrance, right, unnoticeable.
The fifth floor took the form of a mansard with a single, lofty dormer.  The solid parapet here would have provided privacy to servants who moved bedding outside on steam summer nights.

No. 320 was quickly sold.  On April 23, 1899 The Sun reported that it had been "bought by ex-Postmaster-General Thomas L. James."   The very fact that James chose this house and block testified to the extremely upscale nature of the area.

Beginning his career as a printer and newspaper owner upstate, he had worked for the government since moving to New York City in 1861.  He reorganized the operations of the Custom House and quickly rose in governmental positions.  In 1873 President Rutherford B. Hayes appointed him Postmaster of New York.  As he had done with Customs, he overhauled the efficiency of the mails--increasing the number of deliveries, instituting a "fast-mail service," and expediting foreign service, for example.  When President James A. Garfield put together his cabinet, he selected James as his Postmaster-General.

When James took his position, the postal service was running at a $2 million deficit.  He attacked the problem as he always did--by reorganizing, ferreting out fraud and abuse, and in this case, reducing the clerical force.  His changes made up for more than the shortfall.  James resigned following Garfield's assassination, focusing on his office as president of the Lincoln National Bank. 

His library in the 80th Street house was impressive.  The New York Times noted in 1899 "Gen. James is constantly adding to his collection of books, his aim being to accumulate on the shelves of his library the best that there is in general literature.  He does not aspire to be a collector of specialties.  He has a taste for pictures and other beautiful objects in art, which he gratifies judiciously."

James maintained a summer estate in Englewood, New Jersey.   He became seriously ill there a few months after purchasing No. 320.  But on August 19 The Times assured readers that James, "who has been ill at his home here for several days with congestion of the lungs, is much better, and will be able to sail for Europe on Wednesday next."

In case readers were distrustful, the newspaper noted on September 23 that he had arrived in London.  "He is in fine health."  The trip was brief, especially considering that the back-and-forth voyage would have consumed several days.  On October 9 he was back in his office at the bank.

Also brief was James's ownership of No. 320.  He returned title to Clarence True by the spring of 1900; and on June 20 newspapers announced that it had been sold.  The buyer was J. Milton Doremus, vice-president of a drug firm.  He and his wife, Isabella, had an 11-year-old daughter, Miriam.

The upper stair hall is patently Clarence True, reappearing in his houses throughout the Upper West Side.  photo via www.elliman. com
Doremus took an active interest in his new neighborhood.  In October 1902 he was elected to membership in the West End Association, a politically-active group that lobbied for improvements on the Upper West Side.  He would become a strong voice within the Association for years.

Shortly after moving into the house, Doremus had been selected to sit on a grand jury regarding the failure of a bank.  It was a relatively uninteresting case.  But in the summer of 1903 he found himself on a highly-publicized and potentially dangerous trial involving gangsters, labor conflict, and threats of violence.

Labor differences and strikes in the first half of the 20th century were often violent--sometimes involving beatings, arson, and even bombings.  Samuel J. Parks, a leader of the Housesmiths' and Bridgemen's Union, was on trial for extortion--forcing business owners to pay large sums before union workers would return to work.  The Evening World called the trial "really a struggle between capital and labor in one of the ugliest forms."  The newspaper said that those who dared to testify against Parks had "splendid courage."

Although there had been threats against the prosecution team, when the jury was been finally selected on August 17, the New-York Tribune printed the home addresses of each jury member.  Nonetheless, Doremus was apparently unruffled (possibly because of the large number of detectives reported to fill the halls of the courtroom).  At one point in the trial he directly questioned a witness for the defendant.  It took the jury only a day to deliberate and the verdict was announced nation-wide.  On August 22, 1903 the Maysville, Kentucky newspaper, The Evening Bulletin, reported "Samuel J. Parks, the labor leader, who has been on trial for several days charged with extortion...was found guilty."

Around 1909 J. Milton Doremus gave up the drug business and took a job with the Brooklyn-based Paddock Cork Company, which manufactured products like bulletin boards for schoolrooms.  The American Druggist and Pharmaceutical Record viewed the job on par with a religious defection, calling him a "proselyte."

The last major entertainment for the family occurred on November 7, 1914.  On that day Miriam was married to Ripley Ropes in the Central Presbyterian Church.  The Princeton Alumni Weekly reported "After the ceremony a reception was held at 320 West 80th St."

At the time her parents were preparing to leave Manhattan.  On May 5, 1915 the 80th Street house was sold to Rhoda F. Greene.  Two months later J. Milton and Isabella Doremus moved into their newly-completed "fifteen room Colonial House," as described in the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, on Manhasset Bay, Long Island.  The journal called it "one of the most attractive on the North Shore."

Rhoda Green would remain in the house for years.  It seems possible that although she never married, her life was not without romance.  She had a close friend, Charles Albert Schieren.   The wealthy bachelor was the son of the former Brooklyn mayor and principal in Charles A. Schieren & Company, leather and belting manufacturer.  The younger Schieren died on December 4, 1932.  His will left Rhoda $100,000 "in recognition of her friendship for me."  The token of friendship would be more than $1.8 million today.

Rhoda's summer estate was at Long Branch, New Jersey.  It was there that she died on May 25, 1936.  Her funeral was held in the 80th Street house two days later.

No. 320 was soon purchased by Paul and Mary Cinkosky.  They "modernized" the house, according to The New York Times on December 27, 1937, before leasing it to a single tenant "for occupancy."    The Cinkoskys, Hungarian immigrants, seem to have fudged a bit on the documentation, for they received a "multiple dwelling violation" shortly afterward. 

The Cinkoskys retained possession of the house (now leased to single residents) until 1943.  Perhaps because of its slim proportions, No. 320 remained a single-family house until 1969.  The new owners initiated a renovation, completed in 1971, which included a separate apartment on the ground floor.  That was reversed around 2001, returning the house to a single-family home.  Stone reparation included in one of those renovations resulted in the loss of carved decoration.  No. 320 was recently placed on the market for $7.65 million.

Cost factors, no doubt, resulted in the replacement parapet being unexpectedly austere.
Although much of Clarence True's interior detailing has been lost; much remains.  And except for the loss of the carvings, his romantic, rosy-red citadel survives intact.

photographs by the author

Tuesday, February 5, 2019

The 1894 Lincoln McCormack House - 311 West 74th Street


photograph via observer.com

The New York Orphan Asylum, erected in 1840, engulfed the entire block between 74th and 75th Streets from Riverside Drive to West End Avenue.  As rapid development engulfed the site, the Orphan Asylum Society offered the valuable property for sale in 1893.


Eight side-by-side plots were purchased by what the Real Estate Record & Builder's Guide deemed "a syndicate of eight gentlemen who will built homes for themselves."  To ensure architectural cohesion the property owners agreed to hire a single architect, C. P. H. Gilbert who was well-known for his mansion designs.  He was among the most prolific of the architects working in the Riverside Drive neighborhood.

No. 311 was erected by attorney Lincoln McCormack.  The four-story home was faced in yellow Roman brick and trimmed in limestone.  A one-story rounded bay rose from behind a faux balcony above the flat-faced parlor level.  It provided a balcony to the third floor.

McCormack and his wife, Victoria Alexander, had three children, Lincoln, Jr., Ethel and Madge.  Like other well-to-do families, they spent their summers away.  And like other businessmen, Lincoln spent the bulk of his week in the city, joining his family on weekends and for periodic longer stays.  On July 12, 1896 The New York Times remarked that among the "prominent arrivals" at Saranac Lake, New York the day before were Victoria and the children.

On March 1, 1898 McCormack sold No. 311 to paper manufacturer Augustus Gibbons Paine, Jr.  He was the president and a director in the Highland Paper Co., and a director in the International Pulp Co., the New York and Pennsylvania Co., the Staten Island Midland Ry. Co., and the Mercantile National Bank.  Paine and his wife, the former Maud Eustis Potts, maintained a country estate, Flat Rock Camp in Willsboro, New York.  The couple had five children--Augustus Gibson III, George, Alexander, Hugh and Peter.

C. P. H. Gilbert's row flows together as a near unit.

Paine was a co-conspirator with former Speaker of the House Thomas Brackett Reed and Dr. Clarence C. Rice in a practical joke against author Samuel Clemens in July 1901.  The four men had been invited by Standard Oil magnate Henry H. Rogers on jaunt to Nova Scotia on his yacht, the Kanawa.  

The plot against Clemens was hatched while he suffered a bout of seasickness on July 21.  The ship's log noted that day, "All well on board, except the literary one and he's doing the best he can."  The other men had long been puzzled by the author's seemingly neurotic need to carry an umbrella with him wherever he went.  He used it as a carrying case, and on this trip it held "one individual toothbrush, cake of scented soap, one pair of button gaiters, one bottle of restorer, box of dominoes, schedule of legal cab hire rates, MSS., galluses and much miscellaneous loot," according to the log.

Clemens's well-heeled friends dropped his umbrella into the ocean.  The Minnesota newspaper The Saint Paul Globe reported on September 29, "Mr. Clemens didn't get away from the lee rail and the ground swell until long after his umbrella had gone overboard, and then nobody dared tell him what had happened.  But by and by he discovered that something had."

Rogers later told a reporter "It was a pitiful scene.  At first he thought he had simply mislaid it, and he searched the ship from stem to stern.  Dr. Rice and Speaker Reed had to use force to prevent him from going aloft to peek into the crow's nest."  Clemens bribed a crew member to look in the crow's next, then posted a reward offer in the forecastle.

The lost umbrella became the author's obsession and he spent the next few days and nights searching for it.  Rogers related "He lost all appetite.  Finally, on the advice of Dr. Rice, we decided to cut the cruise short, and we came back to New York at top speed."

When the yacht docked, Clemens was the first man ashore and he sped off to buy a replacement umbrella.  Henry Rogers said "we heard him telling a cabman to get to Sixth avenue before the store closed."

The cruise was by no means the first time Thomas Brackett Reed and Augustus G. Paine had met.  In fact, they were intimate, life-long friends.  When the former Speaker died in Washington DC on December 6 the following year, Paine was at his bedside.  And he was with Reed's family aboard the special train that transported the body to Portland, Maine for burial.

The Paines sold No. 311 to wealthy real estate operator Otis A. Mygatt and his wife, Sarah, in September 1904.  (Interestingly, when Paine later erected his home at No. 31 East 69th Street, he turned to C. P. H. Gilbert to design it, the first of several projects between the two.)

As the Mygatts prepared for an extended trip in July 1905, they placed an advertisement in the New-York Tribune in hopes of finding a position for their cook.  "Family, leaving for Europe, wish to recommend colored cook; first class in every way; $35 a month."  The salary would equal about $1,000 per month today.

Otis and Sarah Mygatt did not remain especially long at No. 311.  They sold it to Mortimer Merritt Singer and his wife, the former Marjorie Gwinn.  Singer was the grandson of Isaac Merritt Singer, the head of the Singer Sewing Machine Company.

The family found their household increased by one in 1909.   Singer's sister, Josephine, was married to wealthy stockbroker Robert Chambers.  The couple had one son, Robert, Jr.  

Chambers died on February 7, 1909 and Josephine died nine months later.  Mortimer became guardian of the 14-year old boy, who inherited his father's substantial estate along with his mother's large Singer Sewing Machine holdings.  The estate totaled $23.5 million today.

In February 1910 Singer went to court for permission to spend $6,500 a year of the boy's inheritance.  His attorney explained "his nephew, who is attending Berkeley School. needed the money asked for to keep him in the manner to which he was accustomed."   Robert also wanted to purchased his mother's "miniature brougham and harness" for sentimental reasons.

The carriage became a point of contention.  The expense to maintain it, along with the salary of the "old coachman who has been in the family thirty-five years," according to court documents, would be $2,500 a year.   The court referee was concerned that owning the horses and carriage "will take out of his life all desire for the sports of boys, sports which develop the muscle, brain and mind of all boys, and make them at majority the equal mentality and physically of any boys in the world."

But a month of back-and-forth arguments softened his opinion.  On March 6 he told the judge, "Here is a little chap of 14, who loses his father in February and his mother in November.  He has to leave the house he was born in and to go live with his aunt.  The only things remaining with which to link his past with his present loneliness are these horses and carriage of his mother."  Robert was permitted to buy the carriage.

As Lincoln McCormack had done, Singer remained in New York while his family left for resorts.  On March 15, 1914 The Sun reported that Marjorie and daughters Elizabeth and Catherine had arrived at White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, "for the baths" during Lent.

Marjorie was active in charitable works and was secretary of the American Female Guardian Society and Home for the Friendless.  Her daughters joined her in the organization as they came of age. 

The Singers did not own a country home, preferring to patronize the high-end resort hotels.  Society columns followed the family's movements.  The New York Herald, for instance, reported on August 5, 1921 that "Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer M. Singer and the Misses Singer of New York, who have been at Chatham Bars Inn for several weeks, arrived to-day to spend August at the Profile House," in Profile, New Hampshire.

1926 was a momentous year for the Singer household.  The engagement of Catharine to Randolph Holladay II was announced on August 27, three months before the wedding day of her sister, Elizabeth, to Herbert D. Lancaster.

Catharine was her sister's maid of honor on November 6, 1926.  The ceremony took place in the fashionable St. Thomas's Church on Fifth Avenue, the same church where the Mortimer and Marjorie had been married.

Catharine's wedding, however, did not come to pass.  Seven years later her parents announced her engagement to Charles Edward Eastman.  Her wedding took place in St. James's Church on Madison Avenue on June 26, 1933.

By now the Singers had purchased a home in Rye, New York.  They became visible members of Westchester society, entertaining at the Westchester Country Club and at home.  They, nevertheless, still enjoyed resort hotels and on August 27, 1936 The New York Times reported that they "entertained at a clambake today," in Poland Spring, Maine.

Despite their advancing ages, the couple seems to have led an active lifestyle.  Three months after the clambake they hosted five other couples at the Army-Notre Dame football game in Yankee Stadium, following by a tea dance in the Louise Sherry Room of Sherry's.


In April 1938 the Singers moved permanently to their Westchester home.  In reporting on the sale The New York Times mentioned "this was its first sale since 1909."  It became home to Mrs. Stella Williams.

In 1954 George Wein created the Newport Jazz Festival.  He founded Festival Productions in 1960 and in 1974 he purchased No. 311 for $100,000 as its offices.  While desks and telephones were moved in, the interior elements were preserved.  

Wein lived around the corner at No. 33 Riverside Drive.  He later admitted he also used the house for his wine storage space.  Wein told a reporter from the Observer in 2007 that "the building regularly saw visitors that included jazz icons like Dizzy Gillespie and Miles Davis."

Wein sold the house in 2007 to Andrew and Alla Bares.   The couple never moved in (they had a home in Chelsea and another in upstate New York), but updated the interiors and put it back on the market for $9.98 million in May 2009.   It did not sell until May 2011 at a reduced price of $8.55 million.  The buyer, George Evans, was the English-born senior vice-president and director of equities at OppenheimerFunds.

In the meantime, it did had not sat totally unused.  It had been used for shooting "Law & Order," for photo shoots for Armani and Redbook, for scenes from the film The Necklace, and a cooking show "Fresh Food Fast."

The McCormack's cook would not recognize the kitchen.
photographs via Observer.com
The McCormack house has survived more than 120 years without being converted to apartments.  One wonders if the tradition has hopes of continuing.