The building was little changed in 1938. from the collection of the Library of Congress. 1936 Historic American Buildings Survey |
Peter Gerard Stuyvesant and his wife Hellen Rutherford
Stuyvesant were childless. As Stuyvesant aged, he worried that the
distinguished family name would die out. His sister, Judith Stuyvesant
Winthrop, had one male great-grandson. His name was Stuyvesant
Rutherford.
In the boy, Stuyvesant – who was the great-great grandson of Petrus Stuyvesant, Director-General of the colony of New Netherland – recognized his last chance. When he died in 1847, he left one-third of his imposing estate to the then 4-year old boy; on the condition that his name be changed to Rutherford Stuyvesant.
And so it was.
In the boy, Stuyvesant – who was the great-great grandson of Petrus Stuyvesant, Director-General of the colony of New Netherland – recognized his last chance. When he died in 1847, he left one-third of his imposing estate to the then 4-year old boy; on the condition that his name be changed to Rutherford Stuyvesant.
And so it was.
The Sun later described Rutherford Stuyvesant as “a member
of one of New York’s old families and a man of considerable fortune.” Stuyvesant spent considerable time abroad. Around the time that the Civil War drew to a
close at home, he was taken with a startling European concept—the apartment
house.
The Sun explained “The apartment or flat idea, which
originated in Paris, had spread through every country of Europe but England,
which would not tolerate this sort of dwelling.
Its popularity impressed Mr. Stuyvesant so much that he decided to build
an apartment on his property when he returned home.”
Stuyvesant selected a broad plot on East 18th
Street—112 feet wide on the south side of the block between Third Avenue and
Irving Place—in 1869. The Sun remarked “it
was not far from the centre of one of the best residential sections in the
city.” The upscale location was intended
to attract moneyed tenants—but it also brought problems.
Well-heeled residents on the block protested
vehemently. The Sun recalled “when he
announced the use to which he was going to put the site there was much protest
made against what Mr. Stuyvesant’s neighbors called a harmful invasion on their
homes. Mr. Stuyvesant could not be
persuaded from his purpose by threat or otherwise, and the house was built.”
“The house” was completed in 1870—considered the first
apartment building in New York. It was
designed by Richard Morris Hunt who had produced the 10th Street Studios Building for James Boorman Johnston in 1857.
That project provided residential and studio spaces specifically for
artists. Rutherford Stuyvesant’s new
Stuyvesant Apartments would follow that lead, providing four artists’ studios
along with the 16 spacious apartments.
Hunt designed the five-story brick and stone structure in
the Victorian Gothic style. Despite curvaceous
French balconies, contrasting brick-and-stone ornamentation, and a steep
slate-covered mansard punctured by great, elaborate dormers; the Stuyvesant
Apartments presented a brooding presence.
Hunt included delightful details like the fanciful balconies and tiled faux hoods. from the collection of the Library of Congress 1936 Historic American Buildings Survey |
Nevertheless the building was fully rented before the doors
opened in 1870. To assure privacy,
Stuyvesant and Hunt had built the interior walls especially thick to ensure
apartments were sound proof. “But to
make it so much of the space that could go into the apartments had to be
sacrificed,” noted The Sun.
The newspaper said that Stuyvesant, “being a man of wealth…spared
no expense in making the house the best that could be turned out at the time.” The New York Times later reported “His
apartment house had five stories containing suites of four, seven and nine
rooms, many being of large size.”
And according to The Sun “The best apartment in the house could be had for
less than $1,800 and the lowest priced suite was $1,200.” The highest rent would equate to about $2800
per month in 2015.
Among the original residents was Bayard Taylor. Well known as a lecturer, novelist, poet, translator,
war correspondent and essayist, Taylor moved here from his house on 8th
Street. He was held in such esteem that
upon his death in 1878 he lay in state in New York’s City Hall. The Times remarked on December 20, “In his
sphere, Bayard Taylor will surely be a shining example to generations of
Americans.”
Taylor was, of course, not the only well-known resident. Author, illustrator, cartoonist, comedian and
poet Oliver Brooke Herford was here in the 1880s; as was landscape architect
Calvert Vaux. Vaux, of course, is best
remembered for his designing of Central Park with Frederick Law Olmsted. (Somewhat ironically, while the Stuyvesant
Apartments earned the title of the first apartment building; Vaux had published
a paper on “Parisian Flats” in 1857.)
Downing Vaux worked in his father’s office in 1883. The 26-year old lived nearby in a room at 15th Street and
Irving Place; but he ate his meals with his parents in the Stuyvesant Apartments. Downing was looking forward “to his marriage
with a young lady to whom he was betrothed, and who is now traveling in Europe,”
commented The New York Times on May 9, 1883.
On Monday morning, May 7, the family was having breakfast when a letter arrived for Downing. The
family later said the contents seemed to “distress him.” The young man left the apartment for Vaux’s
office; but he never arrived there. When
he failed to arrive for dinner that evening, Calvert Vaux went to the house
where he roomed at around 7:00. Two days
later The New York Times reported “On visiting the room Mr. Vaux found that his
son had left there his gold watch and chain and other articles of jewelry which
he usually wore. Mr. Vaux fears that his
son’s mind has become unsettled and that he is either wandering aimlessly about
the City or has committed suicide.”
A missing person search across the city was initiated. Downing (named for Calvert Vaux’s first
partner in the United States, Andrew J. Downing, with whom he designed the
grounds around the Capitol Building and the Smithsonian Institution) was
eventually found. He went on to have a
successful career as a landscape architect.
Calvert Vaux was still living in the Stuyvesant Apartments in 1889 when
his Department of Public Works salary as was $3,000 per year; about $80,000
today.
In the meantime the building filled with other
socially-visible residents. Along with
Calvert Vaux in 1885 White, Stokes &
Allen’s Guide included on its “select list of prominent people” Walter
Satterlee and Miss M. W. Kemble, also living here. Not only was the Rev. Edward O. Flagg highly
esteemed in the Episcopalian church—he served both at fashionable St. Thomas’s
Church and Grace Church—he was widely known as a lecturer and poet.
In 1889 the four studios were inhabited by E. L. Henry, Mrs.
Emily M. Scott, Julia Dillon and Frederick James. All of them exhibited at the National Academy
of Design that year. Emily M. Scott
would live in the building at least through 1908, and be joined throughout the
years by artists like Domingo Mora, F. Louis Mora, Henry Rutgers Marshall, and
Myra B. Spafard.
Hall J. How and his wife, Mary, were living here at the
time. How retired in 1895 after 37 years
in the real estate business. The Times
called him “one of the oldest and best-known real estate brokers in the city”
and mentioned “He confined his transactions entirely to Manhattan Island
property, and would not touch property outside of its confines.” The newspaper added “He amassed a handsome
fortune.”
On Sunday night, January 3, 1897 Hal How died at the age of
72 in the Stuyvesant apartment. Doctors
blamed his death on “paralysis.” Mary
How would not survive through the year.
On Friday, December 10 she, too, died in the apartment at the age of 72.
The names of the Stuyvesant Apartments residents continued
to appear in society columns throughout the decades. Reports of receptions, debut entertainments and
engagements were followed by the upper classes.
The family of James M. Montgomery was an example. Their apartment was the scene of the wedding
of daughter Cornelia P. Montgomery to Charles R. Runyon, Jr. at 4:15 on the
afternoon of New Year’s Day 1913. The
New York Times reported that “After the wedding ceremony a small reception was
held, and later Mr. Runyon and his bride left on his yacht for the South.”
Cornelia’s maid of honor was her sister, Kathryn Bayard
Montgomery. Like most society girls, she
involved herself with charitable causes—her favorite being the Stony Wold
Sanatorium. Society pages routinely made
note of her involvement with events for the facility.
But the country’s entry into World War I changed life for
all Americans, including the socially prominent. Kathryn turned her focus to war efforts and
her brother, George Peabody Montgomery, enlisted in the Army. Not only did Kathryn become part of the ungainly-named
American Committee of the British and Allies Comforts and Victims of War Fund;
she established its New York office in the apartment.
The war took its toll on romance, as well. On March 6, 1918 The Sun reported that Lt.
George Peabody Montgomery of the 305th Field Artillery had become
engaged to Katharine A. Crane, of No. 410 Park Avenue. It would necessarily be a short
engagement. Two days later the couple
was married in Trinity Church.
Following the war, the Stuyvesant Apartments continued to be
home to artists, writers and poets. In
1920 artists Thomas Raymond Ball and Thomas Watson Ball were in the building;
as was author and playwright George C. Hazelton. Among the plays Hazelton had written were The
Yellow Jacket, his most famous; Mistress Nell; and The Raven, based on the lift
of Edgar Allen Poe.
The decorations of the fireplace in this studio closely mimicked those of the facade. from the collection of the Library of Congress, 1936 Historic American Buildings Survey |
Another author and playwright, Rita Weiman, lived here at
the same time. She was caused concern in
June 1922 when she sailed for Europe and her husband, Edgar S. Leo, entrusted
her bulldog puppy to friends on Staten Island.
On July 5 the puppy was stolen.
The dog was found only through a bizarre set of circumstances. Two policemen noticed smoke coming from the
second story window above a Chinese restaurant on East 14th
Street. Before long the building was
engulfed in flames. When the fire was
under control, fire fighters checked the basement. The New York Times reported “Members of the
fire patrol found the cellar filled with water and almost unbearable from the
heat. They heard splashing and a
flashlight revealed a floating box in which was a bull pup which had kept
itself alive by swimming.”
The playwright’s husband remarked “Miss Weiman will be glad
to hear of the pup’s recover, for she is very fond of him.”
Another literary pair moved in the building in 1923. William Rose Benet, the brother of Stephen
Vincent Benet, was a poet who launched the Literary
Review of the New York Evening Post
with Henry Seidel Canby, Amy Loveman and Christopher Morley in 1920. In 1924 he became poetry critic of the
Saturday Review of Literature. Benet’s
wife, Elinor Wylie, was also a poet.
Tragedy visited the apartment of Metropolitan Opera bass
singer William Gustafson on the evening of March 10, 1931. The New York Times described the 42-year old
as “an athlete and a 6-footer towering above most of his stage companions.” That season he had performed in the Met’s
productions of Boccaccio, Die Walkuere, Madame Butterfly and as Fafner in
Siegfried, among other roles.
Gustafson and his wife had two children. That night the singer received a telephone
call just after dinner. According to
reports, “it aroused Mrs. Gustafson’s jealousy.” A quarrel broke out between the pair and
according to police “Mrs. Gustafson is said to have upbraided her husband and
to have informed him that she would take their two children and leave at once
for Boston” where her mother lived.
In her fit of jealousy, she telephoned Grand Central
Terminal and reserved two berths. While
she was still on the phone, Gustafson removed a .32-calibre pistol from a
table drawer. Before his wife could stop
him, he fired a bullet into his head.
Mrs. Gustafson ran screaming out of the apartment and the
superintendent of the building, Fred Ackley, telephoned for an ambulance. It was, of course, too late. William Gustafson was dead on the floor
with the medics arrived.
Renowned photographer Berenice Abbott took this shot in 1935 -- from the collection of the New York Public Library |
Almost amazingly, in 1935 Oliver
Herford still occupied the apartment with his wife he had taken in the
1880s. It was there that he died on July
5, 1935 at the age of 72. William Dean
Howells called him “the Charles Lamb of his day.” In a situation reminiscent of Hall J. How and
his wife, Mary; Margaret Regan Herford died on December 9 that same year. She, too, was an author and playwright.
Other celebrated names in the
Stuyvesant Apartments during the next two decades included Frederick Van Wyck,
author and antiquarian. He had lived in
his apartment since, at least, 1932. Playwright
Clayton Hamilton, writer and editor Mrs. W. C. Roberts, and artist Louise
Bourgeois all lived here during the 1940s.
from the collection of the Library of Congress 1936 Historic American Buildings Survey |
But by mid-century the
venerable Stuyvesant Apartments was eclipsed by modern apartment buildings with
conveniences like elevators and up-to-date décor. On September 22, 1957 it was announced that
the hulking structure was to be demolished.
The New York Times described it as “A model of gracious living for 88
years.”
Demolition of Richard Morris
Hunt’s sound-proof building was a challenge.
But by 1960 it had been replaced by a 14-story apartment house, designed
by S. J. Kessler & Sons.
photo cityrealty.com |
Rutherfurd with a "u"! You should know that Tom.
ReplyDeleteI just went back to my 19th century references--newspaper accounts, etc. The names is spelled "Rutherford" in all of them. I wonder when the change came about.
DeleteThe picture of the artist’s studio and f Replace is that of my great grandfather, Edmund Greacen who founded the Grand Central School of Art in 1922. Thank you for the memory. My grandmother, Nan Greacen, spoke fondly of that apartment.
ReplyDeleteI lived there as an infant and toddler from 1948 until 1952. We lived in the easternmost artist's studio -- my father Paul Lawler was an artist (known for, among other things, Pam Am travel posters of the '30s). You could see the 3rd Avenue "El" from the studio window.
ReplyDeleteIt doesn't seem widely known that much of the film "Kiss of Death" was filmed there. It was Richard Widmark's breakout film in which he played the pyschopathic hood, Tommy Udo, who pushed a woman in a wheelchair down the first floor stairs.
In its early years the building was derided as "Stuyvesant's Folly." Indoor plumbing and hot water in every apartment!
I remember well the sequence of shooting the "Kiss of Death" when my family and others in the left wing watched from the upper floors as the dummy in the wheelchair was filmed pushed down the stairway to the entrance lobby.
DeleteI was trying to edit, not publish.
ReplyDeleteMy Uncle lived at 142 East 18th Street from 1947 to 1950, as he tried to start an acting career. Eventually, by the mid 50s he had become an agent, and made that his career.
ReplyDeleteI and my family lived in the Stuyvesant Apartments at 142 East 18 street between 1940 and when it was demolished. As with the tradition, both my parents were artists. Our apartment was on the third floor in the left wing and consisted of seven rooms with five working fireplace sand the rent was about seventy dollars per month. The place was full of artists and writers. I spoke very briefly with Louise Bourgeois just once when she was curious about a plaster cast I had made for a sculpture stored in the room to the left of the entrance. The family below us was the Lauterbach and their daughter, Ann, is now a prominent poet but I knew her when she was twelve years old. I am now living in Helsinki and am almost 96 years old. I can be reached at jiisand@gmail.com and have a blog at https://jansandhere.wordpress.com/
ReplyDeleteI also knew a kid who lived upstairs named Thilo de Watsdorf whose father seemed to be Ashwin de Lippe who was a curator of the Metrpolitan Art Museun, The family was related to the Dutch royal family. When the Queen of Holland visited New York I helped Thilo make a rather unusual chess set for the queen when she visited 142. Ive read that when he grew up, Thilo married into the royal family.
Delete