In 1886 upscale residences were creeping up Fifth Avenue as far north as 78th Street. Edward and Amanda Lauterbach owned the properties at Nos. 2 through 8 East 78th Street, just steps from Central Park. They sold No. 6 to Louis M. Hornthal and his wife and in January 14, 1887 architect Alfred Zucker filed plans for a “four-story brick and brown sandstone” dwelling with mansard roof. The upscale, 26-foot wide home carried a projected cost of $75,000—just under $2 million in 2016.
In the meantime, the Lauterbachs erected their own lavish
home at No. 2 East 78th Street.
On January 7, 1888 the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide published an article entitled
“Prominent Buildings Erected During 1887.” It noted, in part, “Some private residences
of importance will also be noticed amongst the list, such as those of I. V.
Brokaw, Amanda F. Lauterbach, W. A. Mathesius, Carrie Hornthal and Chas. A.
Stein.”
The Turkish-themed staircase hall in the Lauterbach house at No. 2 East 78th Street hints at the interiors of the Hornthall residence. photo by Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York |
As noted in the article, Louis Hornthal had placed the title
for No. 6 in his wife’s name.
The practice ensured that the 19th century women were
financially secure in the event of their husbands’ death.
Hornthal was a partner in the apparel manufacturing firm
Hornthal, Weissman & Co. He was also
a trustee of Grammar School No. 70, not far away on East 75th
Street. In 1892 he and the other
trustees fired the 55-year old principal, Louisa M. Galligan, after teachers
accused her of incompetency, conduct unbecoming a lady and generally making their lives
miserable.
Louisa Galligan turned the tables on Louis Hornthal, suing
him for $50,000 for libel and slander.
When her suit failed, she pressed on.
In 1894 she sued him and the other trustees for $25,000. During the bizarre trial, the New-York
Tribune reported “She had no lawyer but her son, a youth of nineteen. He tried to examine her, but was so
unacquainted with the law that most of his questions were ruled out.” Her case was dismissed.
Like many wealthy couples, the Hornthals were active in charitable causes. Carrie was on the Board of Managers of the
Mt. Sinai Training School for Misses.
Following graduation exercises on May 22, 1890, The Sun noted “Mr. Louis
M. Hornthal has been in the habit of presenting to the graduate whose ward had
been most neatly kept a solid silver badge." The fortunate young lady this year was Miss Delia Jones of Catskill.”
On Thursday, June 21, 1894, Carrie Hornthal died at the age
of 45. The funeral was held in the 78th
Street house the following Sunday morning.
Within two weeks Louis Hornthal abandoned the house he had built with
his wife. On July 4 The New York Times
reported that the residence had been sold for $125,000.
The house became home to Stephen Baker, President of the
Bank of the Manhattan Company. He and
his family summered at their country estate at Lawrence, Long Island. Among the social events on 78th Street hosted by the Bakers
was a dinner in honor of British physician, Dr. Winfrid T. Grenfell. Recognized for his Settlement work, he was known
as the “missionary of the deep-sea fishermen” for his outreach in Labrador.
In the first decade of the 20th century,
high-stooped rowhouses had fallen from favor.
Wealthy New Yorkers purchased the out-of-date residences and drastically remodeled them, or simply razed and replaced them with modern
homes. When Artemus Ward and his wife,
the former Rebecca Dunwoody Robinson, purchased No. 6 and the house next door
at No. 8, the Bakers had relocated to No. 8 East 75th Street.
Ward commissioned John H. Duncan to design a grand home to replace
the two old houses. Construction began in 1913 and was completed
the following year. The elegant,
limestone-clad mansion was imperiously reserved. The central double-door entrance was flanked
by two graceful fluted columns with dripping Edwardian detailing. Service entrances on either side led to the
basement and to the servant areas. An especially
handsome stylized Greek key course separated the ground and second floors.
Duncan’s understated treatment of the façade included a
grouping of openings on the second floor below a blank cartouche surrounded by
carved oak leaves and acorns. The third
floor windows were decorated with delicate shields and ribbons, and a dormered
mansard behind a stone balustrade completed the French neo-Classical design.
Ward had been an advertising executive with Enoch Morgan’s
Sons, a soap manufacturer. In 1910 he
co-founded the firm Ward & Gow. By
the time he purchased the 78th Street property he was the sole
partner, having bought out his partner. The
Wards’ summer estate was on Shelter Island, New York.
Ward added to his large fortune by obtaining a monopoly on newsstands
on the elevated train and subway platforms.
His contract with the Interborough Rapid Transit give him exclusive
rights “to sell newspapers, magazines, flowers, books, confectionery, and other
articles usually sold in stationery stores, but not cigars, tobacco, fruits, or
nuts.” He also had the right to check
parcels, and operate “automatic chewing gum, chocolate, and candy machines, as
well as weighing machines.”
The monopolistic arrangement did not sit well with
publishers and manufacturers. While Ward
paid dearly for the concessions--$600,000 in 1914—so did his suppliers. He charged publishers $15 a month for every
subway and elevated station where their magazines were sold. They also protested against his despotic
rulings on what publications were handled.
Such was the case with Public Weal Publishing Company,
publishers of the weekly magazine Fair Play, in January 1912. One issue contained an article by Nellie Bly
entitle “How I Was Robbed of Two Million Dollars.” The magazine was placed in the newsstands late
Thursday night, January 18; but was pulled around 2:00 the following afternoon.
Marcus Braun, editor, received a letter from Ward & Gow “declaring
that as the article treated of a matter which was objectionable, and further
contained the possibility of a libel, they did not care to take the
responsibility of handing it.” The New
York Times remarked “Artemas Ward, head of the firm, refused last night to say
who had brought the article to his notice.”
Ward’s firm became Artemas Ward, Inc. following a lawsuit by
his former partner over the use of his name.
When Ward was not defending himself in court, which was often,
he was filling his 78th Street mansion with Americana.
He was an authority on documents, especially those related
to the American Revolution and the early history of central Massachusetts. His ancestors included William Ward, who had
helped found Sudbury, Massachusetts in 1638.
He published The Life of Artemas
Ward, the first Commander in Chief of the Revolution and The William Ward Genealogy.
Ward’s other varied business interests included Chairman of
the Board of the Ideal Cocoa & Chocolate Company, Chairman of the Board of
the Turkey Knob Orchard, Inc.; and Presidencies of the Broad Acres Dairy Farms,
Southeastern Farms, the Leonia Heights Land Company. It was
most likely his involvement with the food and farm concerns that led to his
writing The Grocer’s Encyclopedia in
1911 and The Encyclopedia of Food in
1923.
Generous with his vast wealth, Ward erected a library
building in Shrewsbury, Massachusetts, including the books to fill it. He maintained the General Ward homestead
there as a house museum. But his
greatest focus was on the needy and the infirm.
He founded the Hospital of Hope in a former mansion at 158th
Street and Mott Avenue. The institution,
which could house 300 crippled men at any time, taught them trades.
His ongoing philanthropies were evidenced on December 17,
1921 when The New York Times reported “A gift of $4,000 was made to the Hundred
Neediest Cases yesterday by Armetas Ward…He sent $1000 each to the Association
for Improving the Conditions of the Poor, the Charity Organization Society, the
Brooklyn Bureau of Charities and the State Charities Aid Association.” The newspaper noted “For several years Mr.
Ward has made an annual gift of $4,000 for the Hundred Neediest Cases, this
being the largest amount they ever have received in any one year from an
individual contributor.”
Rebecca Ward had died by the winter of 1925 when Ward’s
health began to fail. His niece, Martina
T. Robinson, was living with him at the time.
He developed pneumonia and on March 14 he died in the 78th
Street mansion. He was 76 years old.
Of Ward’s substantial estate, his son, Artemas Ward, Jr.
received $1 million. The great bulk of
the estate went to Harvard, prompting The New York Times to remark that the
university “will profit by every cent dropped into the chocolate and gum
penny-in-the-slot machines and into the weighing machines in the Interborough
subway and elevated stations.”
He did not forget his domestic staff, however. To each of the 12 servants in the Shelter
Island estate he gave $1,000 “except in the cast of Captain George B. Wells”
who received $2,000. It was a tidy
windfall for the staff, the lesser amount equal to about $14,000 today.
The mansion on 78th Street became home to the
family of Dr. Reginald Burbank. The
doctor and his wife, the former Kathryn Poole, had a son, Reginald, Jr. and two
daughters, Marion and Margaret. Their summer estate was in western
Massachusetts.
The family was little affected by the Great
Depression. It was a fortunate circumstance for Burbank, for the social expectations
associated with bringing up two privileged daughters were high. And expensive.
In 1936 Marion Burbank was introduced to society. She hosted her own tea that fall “for members
of the debutante and junior committee” who were aiding in the sale of tickets
for a fund-raiser. The All-Star Amateur
Boxing Tournament in Madison Square Garden was for the benefit of a hospital.
Although Marion was officially introduced at a reception on
Thanksgiving Day afternoon, the entertainments continued into 1937. On January 2 her parents gave a dinner in her
honor in the Corinthian Room of the Pierre Hotel, and on April 3 they hosted a
supper dance in the house.
The year 1942 must have proved socially hectic for
Kathryn. On February 12 Marion was
married to John Walker McNeely in the chapel of the Church of the Heavenly
Rest. Seven months later Margaret’s engagement
to Army Lt. Arthur Curtiss Welch was announced.
The New York Times reported that she, too, would be married in the
Heavenly Rest chapel.
The Burbanks remained in the 78th Street house
for decades. When Kathryn’s brother, Dr.
Mark K. Poole arrived as a house guest in July 1960, his visit to New York drew
attention. Poole had spent the last 24
years as a medical missionary in the Congo, the director of a 120-bed jungle
hospital. He had fled the war-torn
country when guerillas attacked mission.
Kathryn Poole Burbank died at the age of 73 on May 16,
1970. Her husband died on New Year’s Day
three years later.
By the 1990s a cosmetology office was located in the house;
but in 2006 advertising mogul Donny Deutsch purchased it for $21 million. His $20 million gut renovation obliterated
the Edwardian interiors, leaving only the landmarked façade intact. His architect, Frederic Schwartz explained to
Architectural Digest that Deutsch “wanted it to be sophisticated, spectacular,
and over-the-top.”
photo Architectural Digest via NYCurbed |
A problem arose, however, when Deutch did not pay for the
work. In May 2012 Schwartz file for an extended
lien against the property, saying he had never been paid his $1.79 million fee. The contractor had also filed a lien, in
2010, claiming it was owed $40,250 for the work. And the architectural renderer, Andrew
Hickes, complained that he was never paid the $11,000 fee for illustration work
on the renovation.
In the meantime, John Duncan’s sedate façade survives
unchanged, an early 20th century stage set fronting starkly 21st
century interiors.
non-credited photographs by the author
Ruined the interior and then didn't pay for it! What a low life.
ReplyDeletehave seen this so many times on this blog, a client taking a beautiful interior or one with original elements intact and gutting the house just to suit ones own tastes, which are always inferior to what was there before you. Place looks as inviting and comfortable as a dentist's waiting room. If you feel the need to do that why not purchase a ruined house or one already butchered?
DeleteI am an avid follower of your blog and have learned so much about NYC, a place I already loved but love more now! The human stories associated with the buildings are a wonderful addition that really puts one in the moment. I have your book and it's wonderful but needs to be about 20 volumes! You are a gifted researcher and historian who can also write! Thank you for your efforts and for sharing your knowledge.
ReplyDeleteI am so glad you are enjoying the blog and the book. The publisher and I have already talked about a second edition. So hang in there!
DeleteHe turned it into trite retail space.
ReplyDeleteDid the Leonia Heights Land Company mentioned early in this article represent properties in the Bergen County community of that name?
ReplyDeleteI am not sure, although it would certainly make sense.
Delete