The 1811 Commissioners Plan that laid out on paper the grid
of streets and avenues above 14th Street foreshadowed the end of the
sprawling country estates like Chelsea Farm. The estate was named after Chelsea Old Church in London,
attended by Clement Clarke Moore’s grandfather, Thomas Clarke.
Now Moore began parceling off the family estate. In 1818 he donated 66 tracts of land for the
establishment of the General Theological Seminary of the Episcopal Church. The rest, over a period of years, he would
sell for development.
Beverly Robinson was the lawyer of the Clarke and Moore
families, as well as a close friend. In
1820, he acquired the land stretching along the 24th street block from Ninth to Tenth Avenues. Robinson recognized the potential of
the land as the city crept northward, and this tract was merely a portion of the former
farmland that the shrewd attorney gradually bought up as investment.
In 1845, the magnificent row of Greek Revival townhouses,
called London Terrace and designed by Alexander Jackson Davis, was completed on
the corresponding block of 23rd Street as the Chelsea neighborhood rapidly
developed.
Robinson sold the 24th
Street land to George F. Talman on April 24, 1849, while retaining an interest in the
speculative homes to be built there. The pair commissioned
local builder Philo V. Beebe to erect a series of twelve brick-faced homes
that same year. Completed in 1850, they sat back from the sidewalk
behind a cast iron fence, giving the
houses—like the elegant London Terrace homes—front yards, a luxury in
Manhattan.
| Among the series of mirror-image rowhouses was No. 459, at the left and now painted cream-colored -- photo by Alice Lum |
The homes were designed as six mirror-image pairs. Each pair shared a stoop divided by a centered common handrail. Sitting above a rusticated, brownstone English
basement, the three-story homes were overall designed in the widespread
Greek Revival style, however, there were touches of the new Italianate trend.
Isaac Dayton, a lawyer, purchased No. 459 nearly before the
paint was dry, in March 1850. Born in
New York in 1819, the politically-active Dayton was also involved in the
growing community. He was at different times
a school trustee of the 16th Ward, an alderman, assemblyman, a public administrator, and the chairman of the Republican County Committee.
On April 3, 1856, Dayton chaired a meeting at the 16th Ward Republic Hall at Eighth Avenue and 16th Street. The purpose of the meeting was to form an effective Republic Club to work for the upcoming political campaign.
But Dayton had other things on his mind as well. The New York Tribune reported, “Mr.
Dayton made a stirring and telling speech, bearing more particularly upon the
Slavery question than upon any other of the party issues of the day.” The newspaper said that Dayton gave, “a brief
and succinct history of the growth of the interest in that question from the
time of its first agitation by party leaders to the present day.”
Dayton’s address was prompted by the debate on whether
Kansas should be admitted into the Union as a free or slave-owning state. The attorney was clear on his opinion that “the
admission of Kansas as a Free State is imperatively demanded by every principle
of right and justice, and that the Free State party in endeavoring to secure
that object has entitled itself to the warmest sympathies of the freeman of the
nation.”
The election that year was an extremely heated one. Democrat James Buchanan condemned the
Republicans as extremists and warned that their stand against slavery would end
in Southern rebellion. Republican John C.
Fremont aggressively campaigned against the expansion of slavery into Kansas
and Nebraska. Isaac Dayton would attend
the Republican State Convention that year as Secretary.
The successful attorney was a member of the Union,
Manhattan, South Side Sportsmen’s, and the Olympic Clubs. He lived here with his
wife and two sons for about two decades before moving to 334 West 23rd
Street.
Before long, the house was updated with a new entrance door
in the fashionable Queen Anne style.
Around this time it became a boarding house, home to school teachers
like Miss Jane E. Hughes who lived here in 1888 while she taught in the primary
department of Grammar School No. 33 at 428 West 28th Street. In 1890, Margaret M. Hughes was living here.
She taught in the Boys’ Department of Grammar School No. 32 at 357
West 35th Street.
A variety of respectable boarders lived here in the next few
years. Civil engineer Alexander Rice
McKim was here in 1892; Dr. Louis Neumann, Assistant in Physiology at Cornell
University lived here for around a decade starting in 1901; and sculptor Louis
A. Gudebrod was here by 1904.
| The house was gently updated with a new door. A Oriental carved fan, all the vogue, and applied carving below the high window were the latest style -- photo by Alice Lum |
At the time, Louis Alfred Gudebrod was only 32 years old, but had studied under
Augustus St. Gaudens, Jean Dampt and Mary Lawrence, as well as having had a
studio in Paris where he modeled a statue of General William Tecumseh Sherman, which was shown at the 1900 Paris Exhibition.
Louis Comfort Tiffany commissioned him to design the mermaid base for
his Nautilus lamp.
Early in his stay at No. 357 Gudebrod sculpted a statue of the
French explorer LaSalle, which he entered in the St. Louis Exhibition. The sculptor was serious about his art and,
apparently, serious about his reputation as well. In 1904, the City of Richmond, Virginia hosted a competition to
design an equestrian statue of Confederate General J. E. B.
Stuart. Gudebrod was among the top
three finalists, however Fred Moynihan received the commission. The
competition became the topic of conversation at the Arts Club in June and sculptor Gutzon Borglum “made statements reflecting on Gudebrod personally and
professionally,” said The New York Times. Gudebrod filed suit for slander against his fellow artist
for $50,000.
Louis Gudebrod would go on to design the monument at the
site of the Civil War prison at Andersonville, Georgia; the Mayflower tablet at
the Hartford State Capitol; the bas-relief of Governor Alfred E. Smith at the
New York State Office Building in Buffalo; and a tablet of Nathan Hale in
Coventry, Connecticut, among many other works.
Tragedy struck No. 459 on December 4, 1921 when 72-year-old Madeline
Holeyer was cooking in her apartment here.
The woman’s dress caught fire and she ran screaming into the
hallway. Although her husband and
several neighbors smothered the flames, she was severely burned and died at
Bellevue Hospital later that night.
One of the familiar faces here at the time was Dr. William
C. Gilley. Dr. Gilley had earned his
medical degree from the College of Physicians and Surgeons in 1885. He lived quietly with his wife, collecting
historical materials relating to New York City. Mrs. Gilley died in 1923, leaving the doctor
alone with his priceless collections and no relatives.
When Dr. Gilley died at the age of 81 on June 22, 1933, his
apartment was filled with the irreplaceable collection of books, pamphlets,
photographs and etchings he had accumulated over decades. Having no family, he bequeathed the
invaluable compilation to the Museum of the City of New York.
| The handsome block of matching, paired homes sit reservedly back from the sidewalk. Because the residential block is lightly-traveled, the houses are not widely known. -- photo by Alice Lum |
Isaac Dayton’s house remains a multi-family residence today, but it is one of the least-changed of the original group. Each of the houses along the charming, set-back row was given individual landmark designation in September 1970. The Landmarks Preservation Commission praised
No. 459 and its neighbors saying that “the uniform setback behind planted front
yards and the generally uniform cornice line provide a welcome sense of human
scale in a streetscape dominated by large housing developments.”
thanks to reader Simone for suggesting this post.
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