The Joseph Peabody House - 125 East 26th Street

 

Merchant Joseph Peabody and his family moved into the newly completed house at 77 East 26th Street in 1859.  (The address would be changed to 125 in 1865.)  One of a row of identical brownstone-faced homes, each was just 14-feet-wide and rose three stories above a high English basement.  Their Italianate design included understated molded entrance frames and handsome cast metal cornices.  Early photographs reveal fashionable Italianate-style iron balconies at the parlor level.

In the rear yard was a small house which the Peabodys rented to the William D. Robinson family.  Robinson was a clerk in the Custom House and his son, Edmund R., was an attorney.  The Robinsons' pet strayed off shortly after moving in.  An advertisement in the New York Daily Herald on November 12, 1859 read, "$5 Reward--Lost, a small white Scotch Terrier.  Whoever will return him to No. 77 East Twenty-sixth street, or to the cashier's office Custom House, will receive the above reward."  (The reward would equal $195 in 2025.)

Although the Peabodys' home was not grand, they sometimes moved within fashionable circles.  When the 19-year-old Prince of Wales visited New York City in 1860, a "Grand Ball" was held in the Academy of Music.  Among those invited were Joseph Peabody and his wife.

It appears that William D. Robinson purchased the property in 1866.  Edmund now occupied the main house and William the rear.  When Edmund moved to 258 Fourth Avenue in 1868, William and his wife moved into the primary house.  That same year Charles E. Strong, an attorney, listed his address here, occupying the rear building.  

The Robinsons, like their neighbors, maintained a small domestic staff.  On September 17, 1878, they advertised, "Wanted--An excellent cook; Must do the washing for a small private family.  125 East 26th st."  That their cook did double-duty as a laundress reflected the Robinsons' social and financial status.  Cooks in the mansions closer to Fifth Avenue were often the most highly paid among the staff and asking them to do anything other than prepare meals would be insulting.

William D. Robinson died in 1880.  Shortly afterward, the Collector of the Port of New York, Chester A. Arthur (later President of the United States), discovered $5,000 in gold coin missing from the office of the cashier of the Custom House.  In March 3, the Congressional Record noted that the missing funds were "without the default or negligence of the collector or of the late William D. Robinson, cashier."

Following the Robinson family, the house was occupied by Marco Leon Stevens y Voisin, "or plain Stevens Voisin," as described by The New York Times.  An exporter, importer and commission merchant, Voison arrived in New York in 1877.  The newspaper said, "Mr. Voisin was chiefly engaged in the export trade with Mexico," and noted:

Mr. Voisin's residence at No. 125 East Twenty-sixth-street is a stone-front, three-story dwelling.  As a bachelor he would have no need for so extensive an establishment were it not that it was his habit when the Mexican trade was booming to entertain his customers there, frequently having half a dozen of them at his house at a time.

The 45-year-old began experiencing business difficulties in 1885.  The New York Times explained that because of the "high rate of exchange, his Mexican customers [were] displaying not only no inclination to purchase American goods, but a very decided repugnance to paying the $25,000 or $30,000 which they owed him on old accounts."  The past due amounts that his Mexican customers owed him would top $1 million today.

Voisin's diminished cash flow crippled his ability to pay his creditors.  Then, in the fall of 1886 he gave Brown, Wood & Co. two checks amounting to $5,634.57.  When the firm deposited them on October 6, they bounced.  The bank notified Detective C. B. McDougal and the next day he visited Voisin's office at 45 Leonard Street.  He was told that Voisin had left for lunch.  McDougal waited, but Voisin did not return.  A week later, on October 12, The New York Times reported, "although a watch has been kept since then on his warehouse and his residence at No. 125 East Twenty-sixth-street, he has not been seen."

Detectives entered the house only to find that the former "richly furnished" rooms had been stripped bare.  Also missing was "a French actress" who had been living with Voisin.  The New York Times reported, "several of his creditors still have faith that he is only suffering from 'panic' and will turn up and straighten out his affairs in a day or two."  That did not happen.

(Interestingly, lawyer Charles E. Strong was still occupying the rear house at the time.)

Anna P. O'Connor lived here in 1890 when she was shopping in the White, Stokes & Allen store at 185 Fifth Avenue on October 16.  She suddenly felt a hand in her pocket and turned to see a "shabbily dressed man at her side," as reported by The Sun.  Bernard St. John Gisbey was arrested as a pickpocket and he, Anna O'Connor, and the salesman who had been waiting on her appeared in court on October 29.

The Sun described Gisbey as being "of slight figure, with an intelligent face.  His curling hair and moustache are brown."  Under questioning, the 35-year-old explained he was English and had had a good education.  He was ordained as a minister of the Congregational Church, but after a few years, "I resigned my charged because my religious views had undergone a change."

Gisbey thought that he could start anew in the United States, "believing that a man of my education could readily find employment."  That proved illusive and after a while, Gisbey was moneyless and homeless.  He tearfully told the court, "I did steal this purse, and I am overcome with sorry and shame.  I was driven to theft by actual hunger...I was not always as I am."  Gisbey was convicted and The Sun said he, "may be sentenced to State prison for five years."

As late as 1941, the original two-over-two windows survived.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The house was sold in July 1893 and it became home to Augustus Porter Barnard.  An engineer, he graduated from the School of Mines of Columbia University in 1868.  He remained here until the turn of the century, at which time the neighborhood was seeing an incursion of commerce.

That change first came to 125 East 26th Street in the spring of 1905.  On March 19, an announcement appeared in the New York Herald:

Mrs. Hudson, formerly 1 West 100th st., is now located at 125 East 26th st., and is prepared to give her personal attention and thorough instruction in manicuring, hairdressing.  Marcel wave, facial, scalp, neck and general massage; anatomy taught; diplomas; addresses furnished of my graduates, who average $35 weekly; their success proves their ability; start now, start right and YOU will be successful.  Mrs. Hudson, 125 East 26th.

The post-World War I years saw several offices within the house.  In 1921, the architectural offices of Maynicke & Frank were here, and the following year the headquarters of the engineering firm Dwight P. Robinson & Co., occupied space.

Through it all, little changed to the exterior of 125 East 26th Street, other than the removal of the balcony.  In 1941, it was returned to residential use.  A renovation resulted in two duplexes--in the basement and parlor floors, and another in the top two.  That configuration survives.

photographs by the author

The 1893 Frank and Emma Wise House - 236 West 101st Street

 

Born in Sussex, England in 1852, Frank Eugene Wise entered his father's construction firm, the Nathaniel Wise Company as a young man.  On July 15, 1880, he married Emma Palmatier and the couple had two children, Florence Isabel and Frank Lounsbury.

Following his father's death, Wise took the reins of the firm, renaming it the Wise Construction Company.  Decades later, The New York Times would remark, "He built extensively on the West Side as a speculative builder in the Nineties."  Among those speculative projects was a row of upscale rowhouses along West 101st Street between Broadway and West End Avenue in 1892.

Completed the following year, the homes were designed by Gilbert A. Schellenger.  Each a variation of the other, they were three stories tall above a high English basement.  Only 236 West 101st Street had fully arched openings at the parlor level.  Like its architectural siblings, its second and third floors were bowed.  Panels below the parlor and third floor windows were filled with Renaissance inspired foliate carvings.

Frank Wise retained 236 West 101st Street for his family.  Also moving into the house was Emma's widowed mother, Julia A. Palmatier.  She died here on April 13, 1900 and her funeral was held in the drawing room two days later.

Florence's engagement to Lewis Burton Hall, Jr. was announced late in 1903.  On January 9, 1904, Emma held a luncheon in her honor.  The New York Herald commented, "Covers were laid for fourteen."  The wedding took place in the 101st Street house on January 17.  The Brooklyn Standard Union mentioned, "There were nearly 400 guests at the reception after the ceremony."

Emma became involved in the Girls' Social and Industrial Club of St. Michael's Parish upon its formation in 1901.  On March 11, 1905, the New-York Tribune reported that it had "not been a formal organization," but now had adopted a constitution and elected members.  "The reorganization took place at the home of Mrs. Frank Eugene Wise, No. 236 West 101st-st.," said the article, which noted, "It also changed its name to the Neighborhood Social and Industrial Club."

Emma became its president and would hold the title for decades.  Club Women of New York explained, "The object of the club is to provide a safe place of amusement for girls between the ages of 12 and 20 who live in the crowded tenement houses.  The majority of the 225 members are girls employed in shops or as maids in families."  In addition to holding classes in sewing, cooking, embroidery, calisthenics and dancing, the group hosted a monthly social for the girls.

Frank Lounsbury Wise joined his father's firm upon his graduation from Cornell University's College of Engineering.  The firm was renamed Frank E. Wise & Son.  It appears that the son and father were too busy erecting buildings to take extended vacations.  For years, the society columns reported only on Emma's summer movements.  On October 6, 1907, for instance, The New York Times reported, "Mrs. Frank E. Wise...has come home from Palenville, Green County, N.Y.," and on May 28, 1911, the newspaper announced, "Mrs. Frank E. Wise, 236 West 101st Street, has returned from the Catskills."

By the time of that article, Frank E. Wise was a former president of the General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen and a trustee of the Harlem Savings Bank.  He was president of the Mechanic's Institute School.  It provided, "evening classes to furnish free instruction to young men in freehand drawing, elementary and advances; in mechanical and architectural drawing and mathematics; also classes in physics and industrial electricity," according to the New York Charities Directory in 1919.

World War I took Frank L. Wise away from his father's firm.  He was still on active duty in the 570th Field Artillery on April 29, 1922 when he was promoted to 1st Lieutenant.

Frank Eugene Wise retired in 1928.  Forty-three years after he erected his home, he died in 236 West 101st Street at the age of 84 on August 14, 1936.  In reporting his death, The New York Times mentioned that he "had been active in the building materials and building industry for fifty years."  His entire estate, equal to $3 million in 2025, went to Emma.

Emma and Frank L. Wise remained here.  Emma acquired a 21-acre country home in Croton Falls, New York by the late 1930s and was active in the social activities there.  On October 14, 1941, for instance, the Daily Argus reported on plans for "an evening bridge" on October 25.  The article said, "Reservations must be made before Nov. 14 with Mrs. Frank Wise, 236 West 101st Street, New York City."

Emma Wise apparently insisted that the window shades were kept at a regimentally-even level when this photograph was taken in 1941.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Emma Wise died on June 21, 1943 at the age of 85.  Her $186,849 estate (equal to about $3.4 million today) was divided equally between Frank and Florence.  

Frank, who was 58 years old at the time of his mother's death, was still unmarried.  That would soon change.  On December 4, 1943, the Burlington Daily News reported that Cecelia Marguerite Bliss was engaged to Frank L. Wise.  The article noted that he had been "for many years a partner in the Wise Construction Company," adding, "He is a dog fancier and owns the Amawalk kennels."

It may have been Wise's passion for breeding beagles that prompted him and Cecelia to purchase a home in Carmel, New York.  His Amawalk Si, according to The Reporter Dispatch in 1950, was the "only dual championship beagle hound at stud in the country."  

Frank Lounsbury Wise contracted an illness in the late 1940s and died at the Carmel property on March 3, 1950 at the age of 64.

Unlike almost all the houses along the row erected by his father, 236 West 101st Street was never converted to apartments.  When the five-bedroom house was sold in 2015, much of Gilbert A. Schellenger's 1893 interior details were intact.

photographs by the author

The Lost Joseph and Edward Conway Houses - 220 and 222 East 45th Street

from the collection of the New York Public Library 

Actor, playwright and dramatist Henry J. Conway opened his version of Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin, or Life Among the Lowly in Boston in November 1852.  Exactly one year later, in November 1853, P. T. Barnum brought Conway's play to his American Museum on Broadway.

Shortly afterward, Conway moved his family to 150 East 45th Street (renumbered 222 in 1867)--one of two identical frame houses erected in 1854.  Two bays wide and three stories tall, their builder forewent the stoop seen in early Italianate style houses going up in the lower parts of Manhattan.  The earred frames of the entrances were carry-overs from the earlier Greek Revival style, but the molded window cornices and bracketed wooden terminal cornices were pure Italianate.

Conway and his wife Hetty J., had two sons, Joseph and Edward.  Hetty Conway was also an actor and appeared on the stage as Mrs. Conway.  Among the first plays Conway wrote while living in the East 45th Street house was his 1856 Dred: A Tale of the Great Dismal Swamp.  Other works attributed to him are The Haunted House, Modern Aristocrats, and Marie Antoinette.

The family briefly leased the house in 1857.  An advertisement in the New York Herald offered: "House to Let--To let, to a gentleman and wife, a small, neat, convenient and well furnished house; gas and Croton."  ("Croton" referred to indoor water, supplied by the Croton Reservoir.  Having both lighting gas and indoor plumbing would have been on the cutting edge of domestic conveniences.)

Henry J. Conway died around 1860.  By the following year, Joseph S. Conway operated his dental office in the house.  An advertisement in 1861 read:

Artificial teeth inserted for the lowest possible price; teeth filled with gold; $1; bone filling, 50 cts; silver 50 cts, and upwards; teeth extracted without pain, 25c, by Dr. J. S. Conway, 150 East 45th st, bet 2d and 3d aves.

The cost of having one's tooth pulled would convert to about $10 in 2025. 

In the meantime, the house next door had seen a series of occupants.  In the early 1860s, Thomas Gillis, a drover, and his family lived here.  They were followed by Elizabeth (sometimes known as Betti) Kronberger, the widow of David.  She listed her profession as "sewing."  Betti lived in the house through  the 1870s, when the Sherman family moved in.  Daniel Sherman was a bricklayer and Isaac M. Sherman was a watchman.

Hetty J. Conway disappeared from the city directories after 1877, strongly suggesting she died that year.  Joseph and Edward remained at 222 East 45th Street until around 1879 when Edward was married and the brothers became next door neighbors.

Edward Conway and his bride, Mary, purchased 220 East 45th Street.  The parlor was the heartbreaking scene of the funeral of their one-year-old daughter, Fannie Louisa, on April 13, 1881.

New York City had a serious problem in the 1880s.  The growing metropolis depended on horses to move the city.  Each of the 150,000 horses that pulled wagons, coaches, streetcars and carriages dropped up to 30 pounds of manure each day.  Street cleaners and the stable owners contracted with manure dumps to dispose of the odorous piles.  

Not far from the Conway brothers' homes was Michael Kane's manure dump.  In December 1884, Kane was fined "for maintaining a nuisance in the manure heap," according to The New York Times.  Dr. Joseph S. Conway came to his defense.  He testified in court on December 22 that he, "not only voluntarily lives within the radius of the odors, but has often resorted to the dump while it steamed for the purpose of inhaling the vapor," related the article.  According to Conway, "He was certain that his throat was benefited by the operation."

Dr. Joseph S. Conway died on March 9, 1897.  Interestingly, his funeral was held next door.  His obituary in the New York Herald noted, "Funeral services at the residence of his brother, Edward Conway, 220 East 45th st."

No. 222 East 45th Street was occupied by Josephine Anderson by 1901.  While careful not to describe herself as a doctor, she treated women patients.  An advertisement in 1903 read, "Josephine Anderson positively cures irregularities or no charge; longest cases relieved; ladies boarded.  222 East 45th."  Facilities that offered boarding to female patients often provided abortion services--their clients unable to travel for several days afterward.  Anderson operated from the house through at least 1906.

Edward and Mary Conway had two sons, Harry L. and John.  Starting in 1899, the family took in boarders.  Perhaps in deference to Henry and Hetty's backgrounds, most of the boarders were involved in the theater.  In 1899, the Shuman Sisters, a popular vaudeville team, boarded with the Conways and in 1901 actor Lawrence Griffith was here.

The little wooden houses were surrounded by tenement buildings in 1918. from the collection of the New York Public Library 

Upon John E. Conway's death on April 16, 1909, Henry L. was the last surviving Conway in the immediate family.  He had served at the Mexican border as a member of the 71st Regiment.  When America entered World War I, Henry L. Conway was deployed to the front.  On October 31, 1918, The Evening Telegram titled an article, "Lieutenant Conway Dies of Wounds."  In reporting his death, the newspaper said:

Lieutenant Conway was born December 14, 1888, at No. 220 East Forty-fifth street, where his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Conway, lived all their lives, and which is one of the landmarks of the mid-section of Manhattan.

Whether considered by locals as landmarks or not, the picturesque wooden houses would not survive much longer.  They were demolished in 1927 to be replaced with a 12-story factory-and-store building.

The Woolsey G. Sterling House - 27 Oliver Street

 

The change from Flemish bond to running bond brickwork and the slight difference in color testifies to the additional third floor.

Oliver Street was named for Oliver de Lancey and although he remained loyal to the King and died in exile, the name of the street remained.  When John McLane died on September 21, 1791 at 27 Oliver Street, he was listed as a "matross of the artillery" and the "commissionary of military stores."  By the mid-1830s, McLane's house had been replaced by a prim, brick-faced residence.  Built by Robert Swanton, it was two-and-a-half stories tall and originally had a peaked roof with two dormers--one of a row of similar homes.

As early as 1840, merchant Woolsey G. Sterling and his wife, the former Eliza C. Quackenbos, occupied 27 Oliver Street, renting it from Robert Swanton.  Sterling's father, Daniel Sterling, had earned his fortune as a sea captain, and in 1837 was elected mayor of Bridgeport, Connecticut.

On January 10, 1843, an announcement in the New York Shipping & Commercial reported that Robert Swanton was selling the row of "2-story" houses, including 27 Oliver Street.  It was next occupied by William Lyons.

The Lyons family had not yet moved in on the night of May 20, 1843 when the house "was burglariously entered," as reported by the Morning Courier and New-York Enquirer a week later.  The thief made off with "17 brass keys."  On May 26, police discovered ten of the keys in a junk shop run by John Davis.  They also found four brass kettles, "worth $12, which had been stolen on the 9th from Mrs. Mary Ann Silvey of 193 Chatham st."  The reporter editorialized about the fate of John Davis and other repeat offenders, saying, "And it is sincerely to be desired that he will not be again liberated, as too many others have been, to prey upon the community with impunity as well as creating and engendering crime."

Lyons's residency would be short-lived and in 1845 Charles Mills lived here.  Mills was one of four New York City harbor masters, each having a distinct district.  He also ran a porterhouse at 13 James Slip.  (A porterhouse was a tavern and restaurant where malt liquor, such as porter, was served.)

The turnover of residents continued as Timothy O'Brien and his family moved into 27 Oliver Street as early as 1852.  O'Brien was a builder and on January 3, 1853 was appointed to the Board of Alderman.  The 40-year-old died here on September 11, 1855 and his funeral was held in the parlor two days later.  It was an impressive event, the New York Herald announcing, "members of the Montgomery and Emmet Guards, also the officers and members of the Ninth and Sixty-ninth Regiments, are respectfully requested to attend his funeral."

Several families occupied the house until 1868, when Judge Thomas Kivlen moved in.  Kivlen had been a policeman until 1857 when he was elected to Officer of the Marine Court.  He had lived "as one of the family" with the family of William P. Power for 13 years at the time, and according to William Power Jr. years later, "my father [spent] large sums of money to secure his nomination and election."  In December 1869, Kivlen was elected a justice of a district court.

Living with Kivlen and his wife, Margaret, was Ann M. Power, Margaret's widowed mother.  (William P. Power died in June 1866.)  Shortly after Power's death, Kivlen married Margaret--the groom being over 50 years old and the bride just 15 "and just from school," according to her brother.

Ann M. Power died here on April 17, 1872 at the age of 61.  Her funeral was not held in the house, as would have been expected, but at St. James Church.  Margaret's brothers, William and Peter J., immediately filed suit against Kivlen for usurping their father's and mother's estates.  (William Sr. had died intestate, leaving a estate of $75,000, or about $1.5 million in 2025.)  They accused him of quickly marrying their sister and gaining control of Ann's money.  The suit claimed Ann "was weak-minded at the time of her death."  The defense claimed that the boys, who were in their early 20s at the time of their father's death, were drunkards.

Thomas Kivlen died in the fall of 1873 and on December 27 the Oliver Street house was purchased by Jeremiah and Ann Murphy for $12,000 (about $331,000 today).

It was almost assuredly the Murphys who raised the attic level to a full floor.  Molded cornices and diminutive sill brackets were installed at the openings, and the new third floor was given a handsome Italianate cornice.

As with the Kivlens, living with the Murphys was Ann Quinn, the widowed mother of Ann.  On May 8, 1874, only five months after the family moved in, Ann Quinn at the age of 84.  Her funeral was held in the parlor before a solemn requiem mass at St. James Church.

Jeremiah Murphy was a well-to-do meat dealer, with operations at 43 Catherine Street and 45 Cherry Street.  He was, as well, highly involved in Tammany politics.  He was a former alderman and a member of the Tammany Committee on Organization for the Second Assembly District.

Amazingly, by 1883 Murphy had installed a makeshift saloon in the basement of his home.  On April 25 that year, Bernard Callahan dropped in.  The Sun reported that Murphy prompted him to "stand the whole house up" (i.e., give everyone a round of drinks).  "He says that he got back only $3 change out of a $10 note, and when he remonstrated Murphy struck him."  Callahan had Murphy arrested.

Murphy's friends found Callahan and told him that Murphy wanted to apologize.  Callahan was admitted into the station house's holding cell.  The Sun reported, "he approached the cell, and Murphy whispered to him to come closer."  When Callahan was near, "Murphy stabbed him through the bars on the side of the face."

Despite his ties to Tammany Hall, the publicity made it impossible for officials to continue to ignore Murphy's illegal saloon.  On November 17, 1883, The New York Times reported that Murphy had been sentenced "to the penitentiary for 30 days for selling liquor without a license at No. 27 Oliver-street."

A month in prison did not dilute Murphy's rowdy nature.  On April 24, 1887, The New York Times said, "Ex-Alderman Jeremiah Murphy...who is called 'Butch' from his apparent fondness for raw [meat], spends the great part of his time in McHall's saloon, at Catharine and Madison streets."  He was there on April 5 when he and Daniel O'Connell Mulvey got into a spat.  Murphy was praising Mulvey's namesake, Daniel O'Connell, called by Irishmen as "the Liberator."  Mulvey made a remark that Murphy construed as disparaging O'Connell and a fight ensued.  (The New York Times noted that Jeremiah Murphy "weighs 240 pounds" and Mulvey was about "120 pounds, overcoat and all.")

Murphy landed a blow on his opponent's forehead, dazing him.  "Then the 'butcher' tried to repeat the blow and tripped over a stove and fell.  The little finger of Mulvey's left hand fell into Murphy's mouth."  Murphy bit off Mulvey's finger.

Once again Murphy was arrested, but his Tammany ties saved him for further incarceration.  In court, he pleaded that Mulvey struck him first.  The barkeeper testified that was true.  Justice Duffey dismissed the case.

In July 1891, Ann and Jeremiah Murphy sold 27 Oliver Street to the Church of St. James.  The church rented rooms in the upper floors and converted the basement (once the site of Jeremiah Murphy's illegal saloon) and the parlor level to the St. James Union.  It was described by The New York Times as the "pioneer Catholic club of this city," and The Evening World called it, "one of the oldest organizations of its kind in the city."

On January 6, 1883, The Evening World reported, "The new club-rooms of the St. James Union, at 27 Oliver street, will be formally opened to the public for inspection Monday evening."

In a part of the basement level was a stage, used by the St. James Literary Union.  The group used the space in April 1893 to stage The Confederal Spy here.  The next month, on May 3, the ladies who participated in the play were guests of a reception.  The Evening World reported, "The brilliantly lighted parlors and billiard rooms held a jolly assemblage of merry dancers.  Supper was served in the gymnasium, specially decorated for the occasion."

Following the outbreak of the Spanish-American War, the St. James's Union reacted by hoisting an American flag.  A band played The Star-Spangled Banner and when the flag was raised, "a wildly enthusiastic shout went up from a great crowd that blocked the street."

Assemblyman Alfred E. Smith had grown up next door at 25 Oliver Street.  On January 30, 1904, The Tammany Times reported that he "took the role of an actor last night in the play, 'Gloriana,'" at the St. James' Union.  Surprisingly, the article said this was not the first time Smith had acted here.  Sitting in the audience that night were Tammany heavy-hitters like Thomas F. Foley, Senator Daniel J. Riordan and Congressman Timothy D. Sullivan.

Smith was a frequent visitor to the St. John's Union.  Two years later, on April 24, 1906, the club launched a bazaar.  (Bazaars were common methods of raising funds.)  The New York Times remarked, "Among those in charge of booths at the bazaar will be Assemblyman Alfred E. Smith."  The article added, "There will be a beauty contest among the girls."

Somewhat surprisingly, a Republican leader, Mike Hines, and his family lived upstairs at the time.  On Saturday night, July 21, he was out late "to make some needed repairs on political fences in his district," according to The Sun.  He got home about an hour after midnight and was "nearly overpowered by the stench of illuminating gas."  He clasped his handkerchief over his nose and mouth and hurried up to the family's rooms.

He found his wife, three daughters and two sons unconscious.  The article said, "Making sure that they were still alive, he threw up all the windows, and then he woke up Drs. Manning and Shannon, who live in Oliver street."  After an hour's work, the physicians succeeded in resuscitating all the victims.

Hines investigated and found that someone who thought he was turning off the jets in the billiard room had inadvertently turned them to full open. 

On October 13, 1908, The Sun began an article saying, "The latest of the old downtown organizations to surrender to the conditions brought about by a change of population is St. James's Union...The club has been in existence thirty-four years and its affairs are now being adjusted prior to disbandment."  The article explained that membership had gradually declined over the past few years.  "The chief cause of this seemed to be the influx of Italians and Jews into the neighborhood," it said.

Occasional Tammany figures continued to occupy apartments  here over the years.  In 1917, 27 Oliver Street was the Manhattan home of U. S. Representative Daniel J. Riordan.  Elected in November 6, 1906, he would hold his office until his death in Washington D.C. on April 28, 1923.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

A charismatic resident was Julia Drumm, who knew Alfred E. Smith from his youth.  In 1918 he was elected Governor of New York.  On November 5, 1919, the New-York Tribune reported, "Mrs. Julia Drumm, one of the Governor's neighbors, at 27 Oliver Street, followed him to the polls.  She is seventy-three years old, and it was her first vote."   (It was Julia's first vote because New York women had not been allowed to do so until 1917.)

It may have been the first time for Julia Drumm to cast her ballot, but it was not her last.  She voted for her neighbor again in November 1922 and she and her husband were rewarded with tickets to the Gubernatorial Inauguration Ball.  On December 30, the Times Herald reported, "Mrs. Thomas Drum [sic] of 27 Oliver street, next door neighbor to the governor-elect, is delighted to go.  Mrs. Drum [sic] is 86 and her praise is high for woman suffrage."  The article said the suffrage movement "gave her the chance, four years ago, to vote for the boy she used to see scurrying around the crowded streets in the old fifth ward nearly thirty years ago."

Fannie Jafumy purchased 27 Oliver Street in 1931.  It continued to be operated as rooming house until 1989 when it was converted to the Temple of the Heavenly Mother, a Taoist temple.  The Department of Buildings noted, "entire building to be used as a church."

In 1992, the church was closed after a drug raid.  Five years later, on June 25, 1997, The Villager reported that the Justice Department had seized the building after "members of a group known as the Temple of the Heavenly Mother were arrested for dealing heroin out of the building about five years ago."

The following year, the house was converted to two duplex apartments.  

photographs by the author

The 1913 Marquand - 11 East 68th Street

 

On March 23, 1912, The New York Times reported that "the handsome Marquand house" on the northwest corner of Madison Avenue and 68th Street had been "sold to a syndicate for improvement with an eleven-story apartment house."  The 1884 Henry Marquand mansion was "one of the finest residences in the city," said the article."  Its interiors were decorated by Louis Comfort Tiffany, John La Farge, Frederick Leighton and Lawrence Alma-Tadema.

The syndicate mentioned by The Times included former senator George B. Agnew and architect Herbert Lucas.  The group had paid "somewhat under $500,000" for the mansion, or about $16.3 million in 2025 terms.  Expectedly, Herbert Lucas was the architect of the "high-class semi-co-operative apartment."  His plans, filed in December, projected the construction cost at $500,000.

In a nod to the site's history, the building was called The Marquand.  Completed in the fall of 1913, it was faced in limestone, buff colored brick and trimmed in terra cotta.  The World's New York Apartment House Album called it, "an architectural ornament to this high-class residential neighborhood and also noteworthy among fine apartments in the city."

Lucas designed the neo-Renaissance-style structure as a U, assuring natural light and ventilation to almost every room.  There were two entrances--one on Madison Avenue under a metal-and-glass marquee, and the other tucked into the 68th Street light court.  Above a rusticated, two-story base were nine stories of brick.  The full-height rounded bays on 68th Street were echoed in the bracketed cornice.  Intermediate cornices of terra cotta relieved the verticality of the design.

A 1913 rendering shows the original Madison Avenue entrance.  The World's New York Apartment House Album (copyright expired)

The apartments ranged from seven to 13 rooms "and a few are arranged on the duplex plan," said The World's New York Apartment House Album.  An advertisement in November 1913 touted, "very large rooms, ample closet space and exceptional servants' quarters," adding that the suites were, "especially designed for discriminating tenants."  Rents began at $2,000 per year, or about $5,450 a month today.

There were typically four apartments per floor.   The World's New York Apartment House Album (copyright expired)

In its July 1914 issue, The Real Estate Magazine noted, "in such an apartment house at No. 11 East sixty-eighth street, one can entertain on the same scale as they could in a country house with half the number of servants required in the latter."  That was because the building's staff was on hand for large entertainments.  In a recent event, for instance, the superintendent "acted as major domo" and six other employees "were his assistants," greeting the guests "to give them the same service that would have been afforded had the dance been held in the ballroom of a hotel."

The article said that the floor space within the larger apartments equaled that of a four-story private house, and the six-room apartments were "equivalent to that of the average three-storied residence."  The living rooms of the large apartments measured 31.6 feet in length and the dining rooms measured 22-by-14 feet.

Among the initial residents were W. Albert Pease, Jr. and his wife, the former Martha C. Rodgers.  Born in 1872, Pease had been the partner of Lawrence B. Elliman in the real estate company of Pease & Elliman.  (He would retire from that firm in 1917 to operate as an independent broker.)

On April 19, 1914, The New York Times reported that Martha had, "sent out invitations for two fancy dress dances" in the apartment--one for that evening and the other to be held three days later.  The article said, "While the invitations read 'Bal Poudre,' fancy dress is not obligatory."  A bal poudré had been a popular theme for balls in the last part of the 19th century.  

After Martha Pease's second affair, The New York Times said, "there were about a hundred guests, and the majority of them appeared in fancy costume with powdered hair and colored wigs.  As the entertainment was in the nature of a bal poudre, the men came in satin knickerbockers, with stocks [i.e., stiffened neckwear], frilled shirt fronts, and powdered hair."

Living here at the time were Morris Roderick Volck and his wife, the former Lillian Marian Holmes.  The couple had two children, four-year-old son, Morris Jr., and a two-year-old girl, Elsie.  Volck was born in 1886, the son of wealthy dry goods merchant George Andreas Volck, and graduated from Yale in 1910.  Following his father's death, his mother married Domicio da Gama, the Brazilian Ambassador to the United States.  

The other residents of the Marquand were assuredly unaware that Lillian Volck was being imprisoned in their apartment.  Suspecting that she was considering divorce, at around 3:00 on June 9, 1915, the 29-year-old Volck (whom Lillian thought had sailed for Germany) appeared at the apartment and announced that she was a "prisoner."  He forbade her to communicate with her family, her lawyer "or anyone else," according to The New York Times.  He then instructed the superintendent "not to allow anybody to come to or go from the apartment without his permission."

The minute he left the apartment, Lillian, who was 24, telephoned her lawyer, Edmund L. Mooney of Blandy, Mooney & Shipman.  The following afternoon, Mooney called the apartment and asked Volck what right he had to imprison her wife.  Mooney later testified, "He replied that his house was his castle and that he guessed he knew his business."  Mooney continued:

I got a little hot under the collar and replied: "You thick-headed mutt, don't you know that kind of business doesn't go in this country.  You needn't think this war has thrown us back to mediaeval times.  What you are trying to do may be all right in Germany, but it does not go in America.  I'll have you down to court before night on a writ of habeas corpus.

Leaving Lillian locked in the apartment, Volck went to the "villa" of his mother, Madame Da Gama, in Long Branch, New Jersey ("famous for its sunken gardens," according to The New York Times).  The newspaper tracked him down there.  In a telephone interview, Volck said, "Now it is all over and it is all right.  I believe that my wife and I will be living together in a day or two."

The couple was not living together in a day or two.  On June 15, 1915, The New York Times reported that Lillian had filed for divorce, charging her husband "with cruelty, desertion, and non-support."

Shields emblazoned with the Marquand's initial decorate the facade.

Other initial residents were William Hurlbut Force and his wife, the former Katherine Arvilla Talmage.  They had two daughters: Kathryn, born in 1891, and Madeleine, born two years later.  Force was the head of William H. Force & Co., commission merchants.  Still unmarried, Kathryn lived with her parents.  

Madeleine Force had married John Jacob Astor IV on September 9, 1911, against her parents' wishes.  Not only was Madeleine 18 years old and Jack Astor 47, but Astor was divorced.  The Episcopal church refused to marry the couple because of Astor's divorce.  (They finally were married by a Congregationalist minister.)  After an extended honeymoon, the couple booked passage back to New York on the new luxury liner RMS Titanic.  Astor was lost in the sinking, but Madeleine and her unborn baby, John Jacob Astor VI, were saved.

William H. Force died in the apartment on May 19, 1917.  He left his entire estate, about $12.2 million in today's money, to Katherine Arvilla.  In reporting his death, The New York Times remarked, "Miss Katherine E. Force...is engaged to Henri C. Harnickell, a broker."  That marriage would not come to pass.  

Five years later, on December 5, 1922, The New York Times reported, "Although the engagement of Miss Katherine E. Force...to Major Lorillard Spencer has never been formally announced, it has been rumored for some time, and their wedding will take place tomorrow at the home of Mrs. William K. Dick.  (Madeleine Force Astor had married William Karl Dick in June 1916.)

James Walter Thompson and his wife, the former Margaret Riggs Bogle, lived here by the early 1920s.  Margaret was the daughter of portrait painter James Bogle.  James Thompson was born in 1847 to Alonzo D. Thompson and Cornelia Roosevelt.  He came to New York City from Ohio in 1864 and found a job in an advertising agency.  He purchased the business in 1878, renaming it J. Walter Thompson Company.  Called the father of modern magazine advertising, Thompson was, according to The New York Times, "the first man to recognize the importance of the back pages and covers of magazines for advertising purposes."  He retired in 1916 and sold his firm.

Katherine Arvilla Talmage Force was at the Newport home of Katherine and Lorillard Spencer, Chastellux, in the summer of 1939.  She died there on August 14 at the age of 76.  In reporting her death, The New York Times commented, "Among her grandsons is John Jacob Astor."

An interesting resident at the time was Vladimir N. Smolianinoff, who lived here with his wife Olga.  The son of "wealthy Russian landlords," as described by The New York Times, he was was born in 1861.  Following his graduation from the University of Moscow in 1882, he oversaw the educational system in the Grandy Duchy of Finland and later the educational facilities in the south of Russia.  Czar Nicholas II appointed him Grand Master of the Imperial Court of St. Petersburg.  He fled Russia during the Revolution and came to the United States in 1938 to join his family.  He died in the apartment on August 8, 1942.

Another fascinating immigrant resident was Ernest Brummer, who lived here as early as the 1950s.  A native of Hungary, he studied at the Louvre School of Archeology in Pars and at the Sorbonne.  Prior to World War I, he went on expeditions to the Middle East and Egypt, where he uncovered "a collection of art works, including jewelry, sculpture and vases in marble, bronze and other metals," according to The New York Times.

Brummer immigrated to New York in the mid-1920s and opened the Brummer Gallery with his brother Joseph.  It handled classical art objects and among its clients were the Cloisters, the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Louvre.

In 2012, the HFZ Capital Group and Vornado Realty Trust initiated a conversion to condominiums.  Three years later, The New York Times reported that the Marquand's 41 apartments were being remodeled into 25 condominiums.

That year, in May 2015, HFA Capital Group sold a five-bedroom apartment for $21 million, and on August 2, 2019, The New York Times reported that a triplex apartment sold for $34.2 million.

photographs by the author

The 1890 The Lincoln - 84 Madison Street

 

Alexandre I. Finkle was born in New Orleans, the son of Polish immigrants.  He studied painting and architecture in Paris at the National and Imperial Academy of Fine Arts.  His background in architecture and art was reflected in the many Lower East Side tenement buildings he designed.  His dramatic style incorporated effusive decorations. 

Real estate developer Albert Stake, who lived on Staten Island, was also busy in the tenement district.  On November 20, 1889, he purchased the two 25-foot-wide buildings at 84 and 86 Madison Street from Samuel Weil.  The Real Estate Record & Guide remarked, "new tenements projected."

Stake commissioned Finkle to design the replacement buildings.  The plans described two "five-story and basement brick and stone flats," each to cost $19,000 (about $650,000 in 2025).  Finkle's design for 84 Madison Street, called the Lincoln, was a splashy blend of Queen Anne and Renaissance Revival styles.

The centered stoop separated two stores at the basement level.  The entrance sat within a portico upheld by polished granite columns.  Finke decorated the top half of the first floor with a checkerboard of Queen Anne tiles above a foliate terra cotta band.  The upper four floors, overall Renaissance Revival in style, were clad in red brick and trimmed in limestone and pressed metal.  

Embossed metal panels filled the tympana of the arched openings of the second floor.  They were separated by paired Corinthian pilasters supported by rather clumsily carved winged heads.  Terra cotta tiles reappeared at this level.

Three-story piers at the third through fifth floors sat upon intricately carved bases and terminated in Corinthian capitals.  Foliate, pressed metal spandrel panels eliminated the cost of carved stone.  Finke's vigorous cornice incorporated a swan's neck pediment and a banner announcing the building's name under a crest of stars and stripes.

The building was completed in 1890 and Albert Stake was obviously pleased with the results.  He immediately hired Finke to reproduce the design at the Garfield at 104 Forsyth Street, merely replacing the name of one assassinated President with another.

Among the initial residents was Dr. A. T. Joyce, who described the neighborhood in dark terms in The World on August 21, 1890.  In urging for a playground, he said in part,

In treating children in this locality, the first thing that I am compelled to do is send them away from the fearful atmosphere.  Those who are unable to go often die in consequence.

Children in the crowded neighborhood were threatened not only by the unhealthful conditions that concerned Dr. Joyce, but by violence and crime.  On May 13, 1895, The Press reported on four 17-year-old boys that were caught in the act of burglarizing 202 South Street.  As two teens were ransacking inside, William Coleman, who lived here, and another boy stood as lookouts.  They called out when police neared.  All four perpetrators were arrested.

Coleman would be arrested again just eight months later.  On January 24, 1896, The World titled an article, "Police At Fever Heat" and reported about a crackdown on gang activities.  Among the targets was the Pelican Club, "a political and social organization of great importance," said the article.  The club was, more accurately, a criminal gang.  A search of the clubrooms found stolen items.  Among those arrested, in addition to Coleman, was James Murphy, who also lived in the Lincoln.  

Tenement residents lived dismal existences and many found respite in the Lower East Side opium dens.  One nearly took the life of 32-year-old Mary Bergen on November 26, 1896.  The Sun said she was removed from 25 Hamilton Street shortly before midnight, "suffering from poisoning caused by smoking opium."

John Nolan, a laborer, lived in the Lincoln at the time.  On the night of July 18, 1897, Officer Keefe witnessed him kick a stray cat at Catherine and South Streets.  He appeared before a judge on August 19 and declared, "the animal was mad and had attacked him, and that he kicked it in self-defense," according to The Sun.  Keefe, on the other hand, said Nolan "was drunk and had kicked the cat in a spirit of wantonness."  The judge found the officer's story more believable.  Nolan was fined, but The New York Herald reported that he "could not pay a $25 fine and will spend ten days in the Tombs."

Like William Coleman, Morris Pope was involved in criminal activities at an early age.  On the night of August 20, 1897, the 16-year-old entered the vacant house at 521 Pearl Street.  It had been condemned by the city to make way for the widening of Elm Street (which subsequently became Lafayette Street).  Pope stole "all the lead pipe on three floors," reported The Sun.  The water had not been turned off in the building, and "the house was flooded."  As Pope lugged the heavy piping out of the building, he was arrested.

Louis Glassen and his parents appeared in the Essex Market Court on February 26, 1898 to answer for the 12-year-old's charge of disorderly conduct.  The previous afternoon, Policeman Lues was on the block when a group of boys got into a fight, throwing stones at one another.  Glassen approached the cop and said, "Officer, go over there and stop those boys."

Lues told him, "I'm watching them."

The feisty and, perhaps, impertinent boy replied, "Say, you big stuff, is that what you are paid for?"  When he called Lues a name, the policeman arrested him.

It may have been Louis Glassen's tears in the courtroom that softened Magistrate Meade's heart.  The Sun reported that the judge declared, "Little boy, you must not bother the police force.  You are too young yet, beside you might get hurt.  I will discharge you this time."

Not all residents, of course, appeared in newsprint because of  their crimes.  Frank Thomas was hard working and respectable.  The 32-year-old worked for the Brooklyn Warehouse and Transfer Company.  On November 29, 1898, he and five co-workers were struggling to replace a derailed freight car onto the tracks.  Tragically, the jack they were using suddenly slipped, crashing the car onto Thomas and fatally crushing him.

As late as the 1940s, the portico and original stoop ironwork survived.  via the NYC Dept. of Records & Information Services.

Kate Mellen went to Coney Island on the hot afternoon of July 24, 1910.  The 28-year-old was frolicking in the ocean when about 5:30 she was "carried out by the undertow," according to The New York Times.  David Stark heard her cries.  The firefighter was on his day off and had gone to Coney Island with friends "for a dip in the surf."  

Stark looked around for a lifeguard, but there was none in sight.  He plunged into the water and towards the arm he had seen flailing above the surface.  About 100 yards from the shore, he dived, but did not find her.  He gasped a breath and went down again.  This time he felt Mellen's unconscious body and pulled her to the surface by her hair.  The firefighter struggled with "a dead weight" towards the shore.  The article said, "Battling against the tide, the fireman finally reached the beach with his burden, where he collapsed from exhaustion."

Harry Smith, who lived here in the early 1920s, worked as a truck driver for the trucking firm of Jacob Lipschitz.  On June 7, 1922, the 21-year-old picked up a shipment of army trousers at a Hudson River pier consigned to the Triad Corporation on Lafayette Street.  The New York Herald reported, "After the goods had been loaded on the truck both Smith and the truck disappeared."  The trousers were valued at $10,000, or about $182,000 today.  The empty truck was later found abandoned in Jersey City.  On June 30, detectives from the West 13th Street station recognized Smith on the street and arrested him.

A bizarre and horrifying accident befell resident Jean Manghise on July 14, 1946.  The 28-year-old was riding in the car of Joseph Casaro on Hylan Boulevard in Staten Island that night.  Her two-year-old son, Andrew, was in the rear seat.  The Staten Island Advance reported that around 8:00, "in some undetermined manner, the rear door suddenly opened."  In a instance, Jean's maternal reflex vaulted her over the seat to save her son.  She and Andrew flew out of the moving automobile.  The toddler landed on his mother's body, saving him from injury.  Jean, however, was taken to St. Vincent's Hospital with "what might be a fractured skull," said the article.

The basement and first floor of the 135-year-old building have been abused.  The portico was removed and the 1890 ironwork replaced.  A covering of gray paint obscures the brownstone and the polychromed tiles, and a jail-worthy security gate replaces the door.  Above, however, Alexandre I. Finkle's showstopping design remains intact.

photographs by the author