In 1912 traffic at 23rd and Lexington Avenue seems nearly non-existent. photograph from the collection of The New York Public Library |
During his term as president of the Board of Education from
1846 to 1848 Townsend Harris conceived of a groundbreaking and controversial
plan—The Free Academy. Although a highly
successful merchant, he was acutely aware of his lack of formal education. By now he had self-taught himself French,
Spanish and Italian and was a fervent reader.
He sought to provide higher education to young men who, like he had been,
were financially unable to attend college.
On Monday, June 7, 1847, the voters of New York City
approved the proposed Free Academy.
Sixteen building plots were acquired on Lexington Avenue between 22nd
and 23rd Streets, and in November construction was approved by the
Common Council. The area was still only
sparsely developed as the fashionable residential communities around Gramercy
Square and Madison Square nearby were in the earliest phases of development.
Just as the project of the Free Academy gained momentum,
Harris’s mother died in November 1847.
He descended into a deep period of grief and on January 26, 1848
submitted his letter of resignation---ending his ties to the Free Academy he
had envisioned.
Townsend Harris’s place on the Academy committee was taken by
Robert Kelly. He hired the fledgling
architect whose masterful Grace
Church had been completed two years earlier. That same year, 1846, James Renwick, Jr. won the
competition to design the Smithsonian Institution Building in Washington DC. He designed both buildings, although each
highly different from the other, in the new Gothic Revival style and would turn to the same style for the Free
Academy.
Construction began in November 1847 and was completed by
1849. Renwick’s Academic Gothic
structure was unlike his previous designs. Four stories tall, the brick and stone
building gained visual height with its corner towers that stretched upward past
the roofline. The openings were
separated by brick piers resembling buttresses which broke through the eave line—some
of them functioning as cleverly-disguised chimneys. Dramatic
pointed-arched windows with Gothic tracery shared the façade with the flat-headed openings.
Both romantic and imposing, it was the Victorian ideal of academic
architecture.
Inside students would find the latest in conveniences. The building was plumbed for both water and illuminating
gas and on each floor was found the last word in modern innovations—drinking fountains. They were supplied with fresh water from the Croton Reservoir that had brought drinking water to the city in 1842. The furnishings were of cherry, there was a
chapel that accommodated 1,300 persons, and a library furnished with broad work
tables.
The New-York Free Academy opened on January 15, 1849. “Applicants for admission were numerous,”
said The New York Times. “All had to be
residents of New-York, to have attended the common schools of the City for at
least one year, and were obliged to pass a good examination in spelling,
reading, writing, English grammar, arithmetic, algebra, (as far as quadratic
equations,) geography, history of the United States, and elementary
book-keeping.”
Despite the arduous admissions test, the school opened with
202 students who were offered courses in history, mathematics, the elements of
moral science, the Constitution of the United States, bookkeeping, penmanship,
composition and declamation; as well as French, Latin and Spanish. The course of instruction was aimed at
providing young men the tools for success in the business world.
It would not be long, however, before controversy
arose. The New York Times editorialized
for the institution and, in fact, suggested another like it for women; the
New-York Daily Tribune railed against it. On
January 6, 1854 the New-York Tribune shot a volley back at its rival newspaper.
“The Times will please
understand that our fundamental objection to the Free Academy and all kindred
devices attached to the principle of selecting a part of our citizens or their
children and showering on them advantages or favors which are denied to others. Whether the favored be few or many—the white-skinned
or the sharp-witted—we regard this favoritism as at deadly war with the principles
of republicanism.”
The New-York Tribune noted
that the free education students of the academy received was costing the tax
payer $50 to $75 per year.
While the debate continued, scholars faced another difficulty. The New York Times recalled on June 3. 1870 that “Those
who were graduated from the Academy, however, found that the designation of
their Alma Mater made it difficult for them to correct the erroneous impression
existing abroad that they had not enjoyed a ‘collegiate’ education, and forced
upon them the unpleasant necessity of explaining their status as graduates of
the New-York Free Academy.” Some
graduates took courses at other institutions simply to have the word “college”
in their resume.
That problem was solved when, on March 30, 1866, the school
was made a college by the State of New York and renamed The College of the City
of New York. While solving one problem,
the designation did nothing about the still fiery controversy of public
cost. In 1869 the salaries and expenses
of the school amounted to $115,000—about $2 million today. The Sun pointed out that Columbia College
took in $65,000 in tuition and the University of the City of New York raised
$60,000. The newspaper asked its readers
“does not the fact remove every possible pretest for continuing it in
existence?”
In an astonishing display of mid-Victorian antisemitism, The Sun
attacked City College from another direction the same year. On June 26, 1869 the newspaper complained
that “The scholastic standard of the City College is not so high as that now
prevailing at the great universities, and hence severer study cannot be
required to reach it.” But beyond that,
said the newspaper, its students were puny.
“They are not of a healthy and normal youthful spirit,” it
wrote, and then attributed the problem to a shocking conclusion. “If seems that their physical deficiency is
ascribed by some people to the circumstance that one-half of them are Jews.” Saying that the scholars had “narrow
shoulders, stooped backs, and hollow chests,” The Sun went on “It is plain that
there must be something that is radically wrong with the City College. The methods of the institution must crush out
the youthful spirits of its students; for otherwise it would not be alone among
colleges in exhibiting the discreditable physical deficiency in its graduates.”
The Sun was relentless in its criticism of the college. Throughout 1869 it would expose students who came
from well-to-do families, taking advantage of the free education; printing
article after article to enrage its readers.
In the meantime, the college was doing very well.
On February 29, 1868 the State Assembly had been presented
with a bill to erect a new building to replace the over-crowded Renwick
structure. That bill was voted down;
although two years later a two-story addition was approved. Finally in November 13, 1883 an annex to
house the chemistry and physics departments was opened east of the original
building.
When this photograph was taken around 1880, the building was already outdated and overcrowded -- photograph The City College of New York |
While the students of City College now had collegiate
status; they were reviled by the wealthy scholars of Columbia and New York
University. The New-York Tribune noted
on June 2, 1886 “The Free College of the City of New-York is an institution not
admired by Columbia College students.
Sometimes they even assume to look down upon it as a college without
prestige or other claim to respect.”
The newspaper then opined that a gentleman was not defined by
his pocketbook, but by his conduct. The
previous day both City College and Columbia had held examinations for
applicants. Upperclassmen of Columbia
taunted the potential students, prompting an affronted Tribune writer to say “Yet
the 1,215 applicants for admission to the City’s College who were being
examined yesterday were left in peace and quiet by the older members of the
college, while the 100 candidates at Columbia were jeered and howled at all day
by gentlemanlike upper-classmen. In this
contrast at least the students of the City’s College appear to marked
advantage.”
In 1889 Commissioner of Fisheries Eugene Gilbert Blackford donated
his “comprehensive piscatorial collection” to City College. On April 24 The Sun reported “It contains 300
preserved specimens, or nearly all the varieties of food fish found in the
waters of North America and South American, that have been procured during the
past quarter of a century by the United States Fish Commissioners.”
The collection was added to the college’s natural history
museum; but further taxed the available space in the building. By now enrollment had ballooned to 1,466 and
Renwick’s 1847 building was outdated and considered unsafe. The trustees began
considering a new, modern campus.
On November 16, 1892 The Evening World reported “A movement
is on foot for the erection of a new City College building, and the Board of
Education…The cost of the proposed buildings is placed at $750,000, while the
cost of the site is estimated at $900,000.”
The committee at the time was favoring “two blocks between Madison and
Fifth avenue in the neighborhood of Ninetieth street.”
As the search for an appropriate location continued,
developers began eying the plum real estate on which the old building stood. In January 1897 the committee in charge of a
new armory for the 69th Regiment decided “that a new structure
should be erected for the regiment at Twenty-third-st. and Lexington-ave., on
the site of the City College Building,” said the New-York Tribune on January
29.
Former Mayor Abram Hewitt, however, stepped in—brashly citing
personal reasons rather than civic. “Ex-Mayor
Hewitt sent a letter to the Board protesting against the choice of this site,
because it would injure his house and also because it is proposed to pull down
a house belonging to his wife, which adjoins the college.”
Finally in 1895 the site for the new City College campus far
north of the city overlooking the Hudson River was acquired. Classes continued as normal as the
architectural competition was conducted, out of which George B. Post was
chosen, and the long project of construction commenced.
In 1906 City College moved north as the first of the
buildings was opened—Townsend Harris Hall.
Now a flurry of interest focused on the empty Lexington Avenue
structure. While a permanent function was
considered, rooms inside were leased for special functions. The Friends’ Intelligencer reported on
October 6, 1906 that “There are 12,000 women engaged in the public schools of
Greater New York, and all have been invited to attend a mass meeting to be held
in the old City College Building at Lexington Avenue and Twenty-third Street…to
consider the most effective method of working for their claim for equal pay for
equal work.”
In September 1907 the trustees of Normal College met to
discuss acquiring the building “for 400 or 500 girls in the high school
department,” as reported in School magazine.
That plan would fall through, as would a raft of other ideas.
In June 1909 the New York Society for the prevention of
Cruelty to Children requested the City to renovate the building as the new
Children’s Courthouse; in January 1915 Mortimer L. Schiff presented the idea to
the Chamber of Commerce to reopen the building as a “college of commerce and
administration;” in 1917 the proposal to use it as an asylum for “mental
defectives” was discussed by the Board of Aldermen; and on March 30, 1918 the
Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide reported that architects Crow, Lewis
& Wickenhoefer would alter the college building “into a Municipal Museum
for the City of New York.”
None of the plans came to fruition. Then-- as the United States found itself at war
in Europe--the Mayor’s Committee of Women on National Defense remodeled part of
the structure. The New-York Tribune
reported on May 15, 1918 that Mrs. Oliver Harriman, chairman of the food
committee “opened the new experimental kitchen in the eastern wing of the old
City College…yesterday. The building,
which has been unoccupied for years, has been entirely remodeled. The kitchen is said to be the finest food
laboratory in the country.”
The women were, apparently, devote to their patriotic
mission as well as to style. “Mrs.
Harriman set the fashion for her many assistants yesterday by wearing an attractive
looking cook’s cap and a long-sleeved apron.”
In 1927, just before the Renwick structure was demolished, traffic had come to the neighborhood -- photograph from the collection of the New York Public Library |
Following the war City College again used the old building
as its “Commerce Building,” which housed the School of Business and Civic
Administration. But that situation would
not last long. On November 1, 1926 The
New York Times reported “the old City College building at Lexington Avenue and
Twenty-third Street will be abandoned officially this evening when the students
and Faculty will meet there for the last time.”
Just over a year later James Renwick’s ivy-covered Free
Academy building was demolished after standing on the corner of Lexington
Avenue and 23rd Street for over 80 years. In 1930 the 16-story structure that today is
part of the Baruch College campus was constructed on the site.
photo by Alice Lum |
Fascinating article! Do you know who the architect was for the 1883 Chemistry annex?
ReplyDeleteI do not. Articles specify the brick (Philadelphia) and size (one-story), etc. but not the architect.
Delete