In 1859 the Fifth Avenue Hotel was among the most
fashionable in the city. Its rooms and
restaurants saw the comings and goings of foreign heads of state, U.S.
Presidents, famous writers, artists and actors.
The wealthiest and most powerful New Yorkers met here to draft deals,
nominate candidates for office and—in today’s terms--network. Merchants fortunate enough to lease space in
the upscale hotel were assured a most lucrative business.
That year Philip and John Rose Caswell opened their pharmacy
in the hotel; the same year that John built his magnificent mansion at No.
370 Fifth Avenue. The house sat in the most
prestigious residential neighborhood of Manhattan; a block north of the
brownstone residences of John Jacob and William Astor. The New York Times described it as “of
brick, with brownstone facings, four stories high, and a piazza at the rear.”
The southern half of the block was developed in 1870 when the
magnificent Alexander Turney Stewart house was completed. The white marble palace, the showplace of
Fifth Avenue at the time, gleamed among the brownstone mansions around it. The two houses were separated by thirty-three
feet of lush lawns and gardens owned by Caswell.
The Caswell brothers’ highly successful drugstore would stay
in the Fifth Avenue Hotel until 1876, when the partnership was dissolved. Within three years John teamed with William
R. Massey to take over the apothecary business started by Scottish doctor
William Hunter in Newport in 1752, a New
York branch of which had already been established in 1833. The pair agreed that Caswell would oversee
the Newport store while Massey ran the New York branch.
The new operation, Caswell-Massey, flourished and the
already-wealthy druggists became even more so.
With John Caswell now living in
Newport, the Fifth Avenue mansion was superfluous. The pharmacist struck a deal with the exclusive
University Club to convert his residence into its newest clubhouse.
The University Club had been organized in 1861 when a group
of wealthy college alumni sought to form a social club that would keep old
school friends intact. Now, in April
1879, it listed 325 members on its rolls and fully expected to expand that
number to 400 before moving into the Caswell mansion a month later.
The club would be the first incursion of a non-private residence into the area. But the upscale organization and its pedigreed members posed little threat to its surrounding neighbors. The New York Times made note of the mansion’s excellent adaptability to its new function. It “is considered a admirable location as a rendezvous for the gentlemen composing the club,” it said on April 11, 1879. The newspaper mentioned that the piazza in the rear “affords space for a promenade and an after-dinner smoke. The grounds are in good order, and allow sufficient room for croquet, tennis, or, as one of the members suggested yesterday, a game of ‘I spy.’”
Club officials told reporters that very few alterations
would need to be made. “There are
stairways at the front and rear, extending from the first floor to the
attic. The halls are wide and roomy, and
a good wine-cellar occupies part of the basement. The heating apparatus is in a good condition,
and the kitchen, while being well-adapted for culinary purposes, affords room
for an additional range.”
The club would stay on in the house for less than a
decade. The Caswell family more than doubled
the rent in 1886, causing no small amount of ill-will and a search
for a new location. The following year
the club moved on to the old Union League clubhouse on Madison Square.
While the Caswell family and the University Club were
bickering, fire swept through another
prestigious clubhouse—the New York Club at West 25th Street and
Fifth Avenue. Chartered in 1845, it was
the oldest men’s club in the city. The
club had moved several times in its three decades of existence, the last time
only a year earlier to its present location.
A day after the fire, on April 3, 1876, The Times said “The building
burned last night was one of the most prominent in the City. It is a brown-stone five-story edifice
filling the delta formed by the junction of Broadway and Fifth avenue. In former years it was known as the Worth
House, a first-class family hotel, and a favorite resort for Southerners, and
the private residence of Edward S. Stokes.”
The blaze had started below ground in the kitchen “by the
overboiling of some fat on the range,” reported newspapers. The Times reported that “As in the case of
the Fifth Avenue Hotel fire, the mischief was done by a dumb-waiter or elevator
running from the kitchen to the top of the house. Up this wooden shaft the fire sped with
startling rapidity, and seized upon the servants’ quarters in the attic of the
building.”
The frescoed ceilings, the fine furnishings and paintings,
everything on the upper floors were all destroyed. A day after the fire damages
were estimated at $30,000—a hefty $600,000 by today’s standards.
The New York Club, perhaps not wanting to fall victim to
suddenly-ballooning rents as had the University Club, negotiated the purchase
of the old mansion. A price of $242,000
was arrived at; but the cagey Caswells did not include the surrounding L-shaped
gardens—only the building was included in the sale.
Before moving in, the club extensively updated the old
pre-Civil War mansion. The renovations
would nearly double the cost of the property. "King’s Handbook of New York City" wrote of the resultant
transformation. “The club-house is the
Caswell house, the former home of the University Club, remodeled into a graceful
building of the Queen Anne style.” Red
brick and white limestone were used to create an entertaining façade with a
balcony above clustered windows on the Fifth Avenue side, and a split entrance
staircase at the new main entrance on 35th Street. Inside detailing was updated with the latest
in Eastlake and Queen Anne influences.
The interiors were outfitted in the latest taste. Show above is the main staircase--Harper's Weekly, March 15, 1890, NYPL Collection |
The sale on behalf of the club was handled by attorney and
club member Edward Gebhard. But trouble
soon arose. In the fall of 1886 Gebhard
submitted his bill of $1,022.50 covering his legal services; an amount he
asserted was “about one-third what he would have charged any other client,”
as reported in The Sun.
Just prior to this, Nathaniel Whitman was appointed to fill
a vacancy on the Board of Directors.
Whitman and Gebhard had long been personal enemies because Gebhard “had
detected and exposed him (Whitman) for cheating at cards,” reported The Sun. Whitman retaliated by inducing the board to
turn down a gentleman whom Gebhard had proposed for membership.
Enraged, Edward Gebhard tendered his resignation from the
club on October 26, shortly after his invoice had been paid. The lawyer was infuriated when six months
later he received a letter demanding that he return the $1,022.50 “paid by this
Board under a misapprehension.” The ugly
matter resulted in a public court battle and much unwanted press.
As the old mansion was being renovated, Fifth
Avenue homeowners were concerned that the Caswell family might have unfriendly
plans for the garden plot between the club and the Stewart mansion--ample space for commercial structure. On May 17, 1887 Charles S. Smith, the
executor of the Caswell estate, was questions regarding the report that a
business building might be erected on the lot.
“The report is not without foundation,” he replied smugly. “My wife, who is a Caswell, and myself think
of putting up a building that will be a credit to the location. Our plans have not yet materialized. When they do it will give me pleasure to make
public the details. We have obtained a
permit to erect a building, and in all probability will carry out the idea some
day.”
The idea of a commercial building in the midst of their
respectable mansions did not sit well with the likes of Caroline Astor and other
millionaires on the avenue. But The New
York Times said flatly “Fifth-avenue residents in the vicinity look with
intense disfavor upon the idea of the Caswell heirs, but however disagreeable a
business building in that neighborhood would be to them they have no power to
prevent its erection except by purchasing the plot.” The plot was not purchased and, indeed,
before long the L-shaped garden was filled with a small, tasteful commercial
building that housed an upscale art gallery.
The club finally occupied the house in May 1888 and by
November the clubhouse was ready for public inspection. On November 10 a day-long reception was held
and “hundreds” of guests filed through the newly-refurbished halls. “The result, judging from the exclamations of
admiration and congratulation which escaped from the visitors after an inspection
of the various apartments, must have been highly satisfactory to the promoters
of the reception and an ample reward for all their trouble and pains,” reported
The New York Times. It was a rare
opportunity for New York’s female population to see inside the male-only
domain.
“Probably more than 1,000 people, a large number of whom
were ladies, were the club’s guests between 3 o’clock in the afternoon and 10 o’clock
at night. By far the larger number
attended in the evening, when ladies in full costume and gentlemen in evening
dress presented a brilliant sight as they promenaded to the enlivening music of
Lander over softly carpeted floors, through spacious rooms made doubly
beautiful by rich hangings and profuse floral decorations.”
The first floor contained the main sitting room paneled in
cherry wainscoting. The furniture here
was cherry to match and the “curtains in this room are very beautiful, being
of silk grand Italian tapestry, having a rich copper hue.” Also on the first floor were the office, a
small reception room “richly furnished,” and a billiard room.
The second floor dining room offered “delicacies of a most
tempting nature prepared solely by the club chef.” The room was paneled in dark oak and featured
a large fireplace opposite the entrance doors.
The costly interior decoration included Axminister carpets and Italian
draperies. Also on this floor was a card
room and a library, both paneled in antique oak, and a private drawing room. The upper floors were relegated to sleeping
rooms for members.
By the turn of the century, the Astor mansions had been replaced with the hulking Waldorf-Astoria Hotel--commerce was creeping up Fifth Avenue.-- photo NYPL Collection |
New members paid an entrance fee of $300 and yearly dues of
$75 for the privilege of using the clubhouse and claiming its prestige. Out-of-towners, called “non resident members,”
enjoyed fees and dues of exactly one-half that amount.
One of the “non-resident members” in 1901 was millionaire
Bostonian Frederick A. Gilbert. Gilbert
was the President and General Manager of the Boston Electric Light Company. He often traveled to New York on
business, and was well-known at the Waldorf-Astoria where he always stayed (that
hotel by now occupied the former site of the Astor mansions between 33rd
and 34th Streets).
In January that year Gilbert arrived in New York to attempt
to consolidate the Edison Company, New York City’s major electric concern, with
his own. On the 18th of January
he spent most of the day in the Wall Street area then returned to the hotel
before going to the New York Club where he was to dine with friends.
The 54-year old Gilbert, whom The New York Times described
as “very corpulent,” was seated at his table in the main dining room around
8:45. The newspaper said “The room was
well filled. Mr. Gilbert was quite
jovial and was telling a story to his companions when he suddenly paled and,
clutching his throat and his breast at the same time, exclaimed, ‘I am ill!’”
Staff ran to summon doctors, but before they had even left
the room, Gilbert lurched forward “and in a few moments life was extinct,” said
The Times. Polite dinner conversation
was over among the other members in the room.
“The incident created much excitement, and the diners gathered about the
table at which Mr. Gilbert had been eating.”
The newspaper somewhat bluntly ran the headline “Dropped
Dead At A Club.”
Later that year the glorious marble A. T. Stewart mansion
was razed. The New York Club was
little-by-little being engulfed by commerce.
In February 1905 club members were embroiled in heated discussions; not
about whether to leave the clubhouse, but where to go. In January the club had sold the old mansion
to Boehm & Coon for $1,100,000. The
developers simultaneously bought the L-shaped Caswell property that embraced it. There was little doubt now that the end of
the road for the venerable Caswell mansion was near.
In March 1907 the New York Club moved into its new nine-story
home on West 40th Street. The
New York Times called it “a bachelor’s heaven.” Within months the Caswell mansion was
demolished and in its place was rising the eleven-story commercial building
designed by Clinton & Russell, with George A. Boehm as associate
architect. The building survives today.
The view down 5th Avenue today is unrecognizable from the days when the Caswell, Stewart and Astor mansions lined up along its western side. photograph taken by the author |
The passing of New York Club building was indeed the end of
an era--the last vestige of the elite residential neighborhood in this section
of Fifth Avenue.
What became of the New York Club on 44th Street?
ReplyDeleteThe club was at 20 West 40th Street and just prior to its being designated a landmark, it was demolished. Today a parking lot fills the site; however the elegant iron fencing and the limestone fence posts survive--a rather high-class enclosure for an expanse of asphalt.
ReplyDeleteThanks Tom! Maybe you'll have a post on the demolished 20 W. 40th Street one of these days. ??
ReplyDelete