photo by Alice Lum |
As the Fifth Avenue district just north of Washington Square
developed, wealthy attorney and property owner George Wood joined the
trend. Henry Brevoort, Jr. had built
his grand, free-standing Greek Revival mansion at the corner of 9th
Street in 1834. The avenue at the time
was barren, but the presence of the socially prominent Brevoorts
would soon change that.
Within a decade, the blocks of lower Fifth Avenue filled with
the homes and churches of New York’s wealthiest citizens. George Wood built his mansion just north of East 11th Street.
The attorney held vast amounts of real estate—including no fewer than 39
houses in Brooklyn, most along Sidney Place, State Street and Joralemon
Street; vacant building lots and docks in Brooklyn; 340 acres in Minnesota; a
30-acre farm in Rye, New York; and land in Walde, Texas.
To accommodate his vehicles and horses, Wood acquired the
building lots stretching through the block from 11th to 12th
Streets behind his mansion. His “carriage
house and stable” was set far back from East 11th Street, possibly
to relieve his fashionable neighbors of the unpleasant odors.
The Wood family included five daughters—Catharine, Anna,
Mary, Julia, Louisa—and two sons Frederick and George. As the threat of civil war rumbled, George
Wood would make his opinions on slavery vividly apparent. W. M.
Evarts diplomatically called him “a man who loved the Union and the whole
Union.” However his comments that the
slaves were of an “inferior” race would bristle the ire of many.
In 1858, at the age of 69, Wood was afflicted with
paralysis. Two years later, at round 1:00
in the morning on Saturday March 17, 1860, he woke with a pain
in his arm. Mrs. Wood attempted to help
by rubbing his arm; but he broke out in a cold sweat on his forehead and soon
after died. A century and a half later,
the symptoms point to a heart attack.
Wood’s vast estate was divided among his children, now grown
and married, and his wife. Mrs. Wood kept the Fifth Avenue mansion, “his plate and
household furniture,” along with other property in Brooklyn. Apparently well aware of the plights of many women at the time, the astute attorney noted in his will “The devises to his
daughters are to be free from the control of their husbands.”
Wood’s funeral was held in the Fifth Avenue mansion,
attended by the members of the bar who announced the “by the death of George
Wood, the New-York Bar has been deprived of one of its most distinguished
ornaments.”
The family's carriage house somehow became part of an shockingly unexpected scandal
within seven years of Wood’s passing. At
11:00 on the night of July 20, 1867, “Sergeant Haggerty, Roundsman Rae, and
Officers Barker and Inman, of the Fifteenth Precinct, made a descent upon the
disorderly house No. 11 East Eleventh-street,” according to The New York Times the
following morning.
Somehow George Wood’s carriage house had been transformed
into a brothel, squarely in the center of Manhattan’s most exclusive residential
neighborhood. Five women, aged 18 to 28,
and two men, Marshall Allan, 21 and Robert Baer, 18, were arrested. “The prisoners were all marched off to the
Mercer-street Station-house and locked up for examination,” said the article.
By the end of World War I, most of the millionaires of lower Fifth Avenue had migrated northward. The Hotel Van Rensselaer now abutted the carriage house on the 11th Street side, with the 11-story apartment building, 43 Fifth Avenue, on the other. Somehow George Wood’s carriage house
with its deep grassy approach still clung on.
With the disappearance of horses as motorcars took over, the little
two-story building was converted to a garage.
David H. Nott who owned the hotel was rightfully concerned
about the future of the little garage.
Were it to be leveled and a tall building erected, his hotel would lose
air and light. And so he bought it.
In July 1921, he hired architect C. F. Winkelman to convert
the garage into a one-family dwelling, “forming an annex to the Hotel Van
Rensselaer,” reported the New-York Tribune on July 28. The architect estimated the renovations would
cost about $10,000.
photo NYPL Collection |
A year later, in its February 1922 issue, Popular Mechanics
marveled at the concept. “A novel
extension of the Hotel Van Rensselaer, in New York City, is just being
completed,” it announced. “In order to
protect the hotel’s light, the company decided to take over and improve this
property by building a two-story seven-room house. This house, of distinctive Moorish
architecture, is set back 50 ft. from the sidewalk, with a picturesque formal
garden, laid out with a flagstone walk and low brick walls in front of it. Tucked away between its tall neighbors, it is
almost lost to the view of the casual passer-by.”
Because Knott Realty Company owned both the “apartment hotel”
at No. 43 Fifth Avenue and the Hotel Van Rensselaer, it had a vested interest In
keeping the little house intact. The New
York Times made special note of the charming condition of the house on April
16, 1930.
Winkleman deftly transformed the carriage entrance and the hay loft opening into expansive windows -- photo by Alice Lum |
That same month William Simmons, “a steamship man,” leased
the house; but it appears the deal fell through. A month later stock broker Arthur L. Selig
and his family were living here. Selig
was a member of the firm Perez F. Huff & Co., Inc. at 75 Maiden Lane.
Selig, his wife and daughter, settled in to the comfortable
home. “Mr. Selig was a familiar figure
in the neighborhood,” noted The New York Times. “His
constant companion was an Irish terrier, which he took out for a walk on Fifth
Avenue every evening.”
But the Great Depression, with its haunting images of stock
brokers flinging themselves from office windows, visited the little
house on East 11th Street.
Family friends reported that Selig “worried over losses in the stock
market” and only weeks after moving in, Selig committed suicide by shooting
himself with a pistol.
The New York Times reported, “His body, clad in pajamas and a bathrobe,
was found in his library…Mrs. Selig and her daughter discovered the body soon
after they awakened yesterday morning.
It was slumped in an arm chair, the pistol grasped in his right
hand. The bullet had entered the right
temple, passed through the head, and embedded itself in the library wall.”
The broker had carefully planned his death, leaving a note for
his wife containing information regarding his insurance and other pertinent
details, ending with the words, “My thoughts are all for you.”
The tragedy of Selig’s violent death shared the newspaper’s
spotlight with its unusual setting. The New York Times could not resist mentioning the quaint little residence. “The house has been something of a curiosity
to passers-by, for it is one of the few with a front garden in downtown
Manhattan. It was well kept, and during
the Summer months, was always blooming with flowers.”
The original gates and posts (left) survive. The low brick garden wall has been replaced with a more secure fence --photo by Alice Lum |
In 1951 the Hotel Van Rensselaer, the apartment building at 43 Fifth Avenue, and the house at 11 East 11th Street were
sold to Samuel D. Bierman as a package.
As the trio of buildings continued to survive with little
change, a small Jewish congregation was formed in 1959, Congregation Etz Chaim,
the “Tree of Life.” As it gained its
bearings, the fledgling congregation held services in the Fifth Avenue Hotel.
A year later, Bierman was ready to dispose of his holdings “as
part of a plan to reduce his holdings,” said The New York Times. On October 30, 1960, Freedman & Melcer,
Inc. purchased 43 Fifth Avenue for about $1 million. Parenthetically, The New York Times noted, “The purchases
included a one-story dwelling on a lot 25 by 100 feet at 11 East Eleventh
Street. The house, now vacant, adjoins
the apartment house.”
The house would not remain vacant for long. Congregation Etz Chaim found a permanent home
and renamed itself The Conservative Synagogue of Fifth Avenue. Half a century later, little has changed to C.
F. Winkleman’s Mediterranean remake.
And, as was true in 1922, “tucked away between its tall neighbors, it is
almost lost to the view of the casual passer-by.”
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