photo by Alice Lum |
In 1903 the Fifth Avenue neighborhood around 56th
Street was no longer the sparsely-developed land it had been before the Civil
War. In the 1870s a building boom
resulted in developers lining the side streets with cookie-cutter brownstone
rowhouses; their identical high stoops marching in military-like precision
down the blocks.
One such developer was John G. Prague who acted as his own
architect. In 1870 the inexhaustible Prague
erected a row of four-story brownstones stretching along the northern side of
West 56th Street. Included in
the row was No. 17.
The house was home to another real estate developer, Louis
Ranger, by the mid 1880s. No small-time
operator, in 1886 he was busy constructing a “new building for stores” on 125th
Street and Third Avenue at a cost of $130,000—about $3 million today.
When the butler of neighbor Matthew C. D. Borden was murdered
on a stormy Monday afternoon in May 1895 detectives scoured the area and
focused on the shrubbery outside the Ranger house. Borden lived at No. 25 West 56th. When his black under-butler, Ferdinand
Harris, answered a knock on the servant’s entry door that afternoon, he was
confronted by two white men who shot him twice and ran away down Fifth
Avenue. Harris died of a bullet through
the heart. A neighbor, Georgie Wheat,
attributed the motive to “revenge through race trouble.”
Detectives combed the neighborhood and temporarily believed
they had found an important clue at the Ranger house. Their hopes were soon dashed, however. “Still some other underbrush of embarrassment
and doubt was cleared away during the morning by the setting aside of the ‘cartridge’
or ‘pistol’ box clue as worthless. The
box was found in the area of 17 West Fifty-sixth Street, and was supposed to
have contained a pistol or cartridges, according to the range of imagination
which penciled on it the address of Mr. Borden,” said The New York Times. Instead, “What it had contained was a
spokeshave, and its packing was a coarse, soft, thick, gray paper, used in
packing such hardware.”
Ranger soon leased the house to the wealthy widower, Amedee
de Pau Moran. The social obligations
normally in the bailiwick of female socialites fell on the shoulders of
Moran. In 1899 he began the whirlwind
of teas, receptions and dinners for his daughter, Maria, associated with her debut. On December 12 he hosted her “coming-out
tea” in the house. The tea was followed
a few days later by a dinner dance and, on January 9, another was given—this one
for both daughters, Marie and Rosalie.
By the end of the following year Louis Ranger was ready to
divest himself of the 56th Street property. On December 14 The New York Times reported
that it had been sold. “The purchaser
will make extensive alterations to the house,” said the newspaper. The purchaser was German-born millionaire
August Heckscher who had made his fortune in zinc and iron mining.
If Heckscher intended to make “extensive alterations,” he
changed his mind. In January 1903 he
sold the house, still described as a “high-stoop brownstone with dining room extension,”
to the President of the Columbia Bank, Joseph Fox. Fox would hold the property for an even
shorter time than Heckscher.
Four years earlier Major John A. Logan, Jr. had been killed
while leading his men into action near San Fabian in the Philippines during the
Spanish-American War. Logan was the son
of General John A. Logan who had distinguished himself in the Civil War and
served as a U.S. Senator.
The dashing Major John A. Logan, Jr. left a sizable fortune to his widow in 1899 -- photo A. P. Webb, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWG6EAL&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=894 |
Logan’s widow, Edith Andrews Logan, left their Youngstown,
Ohio home with her children—two daughters and a son—and traveled abroad for
during her period of mourning. Now, in
1903, she was in New York City with a substantial estate from her husband and
two daughters who would soon be coming of age.
Two months after he had purchased No. 17 West 56th
Street, Joseph Fox sold it to Edith Logan.
The 1870 house sat in the most exclusive residential district of the
city; but it was dated and out of fashion. Edith addressed the problem by hiring
architect Augustus N. Allen to give the residence a make-over.
For a few years there had been an increased interest in
colonial history. Across the city neo-Federal and neo-Georgian residences were increasingly
appearing. Allen’s
transformation of No. 17 resulted in a dignified brick-and-limestone Colonial
Revival mansion. The new Logan house
bore noticeable similarities to the Henry B. Hollins house almost directly across the street, designed by Stanford White.
Delicate leading of the dormer windows and exquisite carvings reflected the high-end craftsmanship -- photo by Alice Lum |
The first of the debutante entertainments was held in the
house on December 14, 1907. The Times
reported that “Miss Marion Louise Logan…was presented to society yesterday at a
reception held by her mother at 17 West Fifty-sixty Street.” The guest list for an “informal dinner dance”
that Edith hosted for Marie Louise two years later in February included sons
and daughters of the most illustrious families in New York.
Among the nearly 70 young people dancing in the Logan
ballroom were Marjorie Gould, Dorothy Bigelow, Katherine Lawrence, Eleanor
Alexander, William Rhinelander Stewart, Jr., Harry Oelrichs, Frank Roche, Jay
Gould, Anthony Drexel, Jr., Stephen Van Rensselear, Cecil St. George, and Count
Antonelli.
A year later, on February 4, 1910, The New York Times
reported on the preparations for Marie Louise’s wedding to Henri de Sincay of
Belgium. Sincay had already arrived in New York on the
Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse with his best man, Count Henri de Baillett Latour and
was staying at the St. Regis nearby on Fifth Avenue. The wedding was scheduled for 4:00 on
Saturday February 26 in the Lady Chapel of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Newspapers listed Marie Louise’s wedding
party which included a friend from back home.
“Miss Majorie Gould, Miss Marjorie Curtis, Miss Frances Alexander, Miss
Elsie Nicoll, and Miss Elizabeth Lattimer, a Southern girl, and Miss Constance
Parmely of Cleveland, Ohio, are to be the bridesmaids.”
Outshining those socially-esteemed names were the male
members. “The ushers were Prince Henri
de Vigne of Washington, who married a near relative of the bridegroom; Count de
Balliet-Latour, the Duke of Vallombrosa, Baron de Morogues, John A. Logan, 3d,
a brother of the bride; Anthony J. Drexel, Jr., who is to marry Miss Marjorie
Gould; Gurnee Munn, Moncure Robinson, W. W. Rhinelander Stewart, Jr., and
Maurice Roach.”
The ceremony was performed by Archbishop Farley and The
Times said the chapel was filled “with a fashionable crowd.” The newspaper also noted that “In addition to
the guests, who filled the chapel to overflowing, many curious worshipers in
the Cathedral found their way into the chapel unhindered and lined up to watch
the procession.”
Following the ceremony no-doubt beaming Edith hosted a
reception and breakfast in the 56th Street house.
It appears that Edith considered selling the 56th
Street house following the marriages of her eldest daughter and her son John. On July 4, 1912 The New York Times reported
that “The St. Anthony Association, which has occupied for its quarters the
four-story house at 29 East Twenty-eighth Street…for over a quarter of a
century, has sold the building and purchased for its new clubhouse the
five-story American basement residence at 17 West Fifty-sixth Street.” The newspaper said “It was bought from the
estate of Edith S. Logan.”
If indeed the sale of the property, valued at about
$135,000, went through; the very-much-alive Edith arranged to stay on in the house for awhile. That same year marked young Edith’s turn to come
out in society and in December her mother opened her doors for receptions and
teas. John had moved to Europe; but he
would return for Edith’s wedding before the year was out.
Along with the 56th Street mansion Edith retained
her home in Youngstown. It was there,
on May 12, 1913, that she announced Edith’s engagement to neighbor Dewees W. Dilworth
who lived at No. 22 West 55th Street. In reporting the engagement, The Times
described young Edith as “prominent in the younger set and at the opera, where
Mrs. Logan had a parterre box.”
Although her marriage to Dilworth on November 25, 1913 was
not sprinkled with titled Europeans, it was nonetheless an important society
wedding in the very fashionable St. Thomas’ Church on Fifth Avenue. As expected, Edith threw a reception
following the ceremony.
As an interesting side note, a decade later the Logan girls’ imperious
and wealthy grandmother, Sarah H. Logan, died in Washington. While she left the family mansion to John and
bequeathed important heirlooms to Edith Logan, she pointedly ignored her
granddaughters. The will said that
they “have treated me with such unpardonable indifference that I cannot forgive
them or allow them to share with their brother, John A. Logan 3d, in my
affections or benefactions.”
In the meantime, Edith Logan’s sale of the 56th
Street house to the St. Anthony Association was completed in February
1914. A social and charitable
organization, it made renovations to the house to accommodate its use as a
clubhouse. Upstairs rooms were rented
to single military or former-military men.
In 1920 U.S. Army Second Lieutenant Columbus Delano Ames was living here;
and three years later retired Colonel Charles F. Height was here when he
married Miss Sidney Hood.
In 1929 the Association purchased the Junior League’s five-story
clubhouse at Nos. 133-35 61st Street. After altering it, they left No. 17 which they sold in July 1931 to the Home Capitol Corporation. The firm happily reported that it leased the
building in October that year for a term of 21 years for $350,000. But its president, Charles C. Wagner, quickly sold
the lease to the Royal Box, Inc. It was
the beginning of a shady period for Edith Logan’s former mansion.
Depression and Prohibition Era New Yorkers were starved for
excitement and the Royal Box Club would offer just that. In January 1932 The New York Times said “The
Royal Box, which was opened only a few weeks ago, with lavish furnishings
estimated to have cost $250,000, and catering to the most expensive trade, is
known popularly throughout the city as 'Zelli’s place.'”
Joe Zelli was what the newspaper deemed “the urbane and
dapper restaurateur.” He had served as a
sergeant in the army in France and opened a café in Montmartre that became well
known to thousands of American tourists.
The Times described the converted house.
“The restaurant occupies an entire five-story building; an imposing
structure without as well as within, with a white stone façade and flower boxes
decorating trim wrought-iron balconies.
Awnings of blue and gold are fixed over the big entrance door and the
upper windows.”
In 1932 the iron balconies were decorated with colorful flower boxes -- photo by Alice Lum |
The Royal Box not only served food; it served alcohol, and
it drew not only wealthy New Yorkers but crime figures such as the flashy Al
Capone. Although other high-end speak-easies
operated in the upscale neighborhood, like the Mona Lisa Club in the former
Morton Mansion just down the block, federal agents seemed especially intent on
closing down the Royal Box.
On New Year’s Eve 1931 the “Dry Police” smashed the front
door, ousted about 100 patrons, and confiscated liquor. “The agents drove up in taxicabs and rang the
doorbell,” reported The Times. “Admittance
was refused them. With an axe they
smashed in the ornate front door.”
“When the agents had made their way in they found themselves
in a setting which they admitted was the richest they had ever invaded. The entire furnishings of the place were in modernistic
style, but executed in exceptional taste in soft pastel shades.”
Despite their mission, the agents admired a life-sized
statue of “Ease,” a nude female figure holding a bunch of grapes. The great circular bar was inlaid with exotic
woods, its top black-lacquered and rimmed in nickel. “The third floor was no less beautiful. Another bar stood in the corner at the head
of the stairs. It was of mahogany, with
ornamentations of chrome steel. The
walls were of soft silver gilt and opulent hangings of rose hue were at the
windows. At one side stood a baby grand
piano, decorated in keeping with the rest of the room…There were a half dozen
smaller rooms as magnificent as the others.
There was a woman’s lounging room, with a costly fireplace, and on the
fourth floor private dining rooms were being fitted up,” said the newspaper.
The patrons were allowed to leave, with the women going
first. Outside the cameras of press
photographers flashed as well-dressed women rushed to taxicabs. Back inside the agents found
destruction. “About 150 bottles of
liquors of all sorts, from aperitifs to champagnes and cordials had been
smashed by the club employes while the agents were battering their way in. About 200 bottles of liquor were found in
other places in the building. On the top
floor was an ingenious hideaway for drinkables.
One panel of the wall was found to be false. What appeared to be an electric fixture was
found to conceal a lock.”
Federal agents decided that the best way to stop the Royal
Box from re-establishing its illegal business was to annihilate it. Deputy Prohibition Administrator H. C.
Bradford supervised a “gang of laborers” who were told to demolish the lavish
interiors. The two bars were dismantled
and hauled away on a truck before Federal Judge Robert Patterson issued a stop
order. The Times reported on January 3,
1932 that “Demolition of the elaborate furnishings of the Royal Box, Joe Zelli’s
night club at 17 West Fifty-sixth Street…was halted yesterday by an injunction
restraining Federal agents from removing anything but the two bars and liquors.”
But the injunction was soon overturned and on January 22 a
truck pulled up on front of the building as workers stripped the club of its
furnishings and fixtures. Zelli’s
troubles were compounded when, in March, his creditors filed an involuntary
petition for bankruptcy against the Royal Box, Inc.
The government agents got their way and the doors of the
Royal Box Club would never open again.
Later that year the former mansion became the offices of Warren &
Arthur Smadbeck, Inc. called by The Times “large holders of realty in this city
and developers of country real estate.”
The firm would stay in No. 17 until December 1940 when they purchased
the six-story office building at No. 125 East 23rd Street.
The end of the modern marquee cleverly echoes the neo-Georgian fanlight over the entrance -- photo by Alice Lum |
In the 1943 the first two floors of the house were converted
to a restaurant, with the upper floors remaining vacant. Three years later the restaurant space
became a beauty parlor and apartments, two per floor, were installed
upstairs. Then in 1976 Takara Belmont, a
Japanese manufacturer of furnishings and equipment for beauty salons, spas and
barbershops converted the building to offices, a first floor showroom, and a
single apartment on the top floor.
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