When real estate operator F. de R. Wissmann sold the 1872
brownstone at 11 East 84th Street for Myer Foster on March 11,
1901, The New York Times remarked, “The purchaser will probably erect a new
dwelling on the lot.” The house had been
home to Myer Foster and his wife, Eva, for years. What the journalist probably did not know was
that the purchaser was Foster’s own real estate broker.
Later that year, on October 5, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide commented, “Mr. F. De R. Wissmann, believing that there is a demand for
high-class English basement dwellings, has undertaken the erection of two of
the finest type, at Nos. 9 and 11 East 84th st, almost adjoining the
residence of the late J. Hooker Hammersley.”
The journal approved of Wissmann’s choice of architects. “Warren & Wetmore, the well-known
architects, have been entrusted with the duty of designing these houses, and
the result will undoubtedly appeal to that class of people who appreciate
well-planned residences suitable for entertaining.” The “class of people” who sought out residences “suitable
for entertaining” were, frankly, rich.
The architects did not disappoint.
Warren & Wetmore created a stunning pair of limestone clad, Beaux
Arts palaces completed in 1903. No. 11
was a bit more boastful with its bowed, two story bay which sat upon a lavish
pair of brackets and a centered cartouche.
The elements were entwined with dripping garlands of fruits and flowers,
and swirling ribbons. A stone balcony
with handsome iron railings flowed along the fourth story of both houses,
bulging out as it followed the lines of the bay at No. 11. The mansard roofs of each were distinguished
with three French, copper-clad dormers.
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| Wissman pictured both houses in his advertisement when he offered them for sale in April 1903 -- The New-York Tribune (copyright expired) |
F. de R. Wissmann boasted in an advertisement, "The chief distinguishing feature of an English Basement House consists in the Kitchen being placed on one floor alone with the laundry and servants' hall, and not on the entrance floor, which is so objectionable in the American Basement House." He pointed out that on the entrance floor of these homes, instead, were the dining rooms and "large hall."
Saying the houses were, "modern in all points of construction and interior finish," Wissmann detailed "five bath rooms, all opening to the outer air, and not on a light shaft; nine servants' rooms, with a servants' staircase running to the roof, large passenger elevator, 5 master's bedrooms, salon and library."
Saying the houses were, "modern in all points of construction and interior finish," Wissmann detailed "five bath rooms, all opening to the outer air, and not on a light shaft; nine servants' rooms, with a servants' staircase running to the roof, large passenger elevator, 5 master's bedrooms, salon and library."
Wissmann held title to No. 11 for three years, selling what
The New York Times called, “the fine dwelling” to Benjamin Aymar Sands in April
1906. The newspaper noted, “Mr. Sands
will occupy the house.” Not only did the
53-year-old financier, a member of Bowers & Sands, occupy the mansion, but
so did his extended family.
Living in the house with him and his wife, the former Amy K. Akin, were
their daughter, Mary Emily (popularly called May), his unmarried sisters, E.
Louise and Anna, brothers Charles Edward and Robert Cornell, and his married
sister Katharine and her husband, Theodore Havemeyer.
Perhaps the conditions were a bit too crowded for Benjamin
and Amy. By the time they announced May’s
engagement on July 25, 1908, they were living at 58 West 48th
Street. The rest of the family remained
on 84th Street,
The elegant appointments of the mansion were evidenced on
February 18, 1908 when the butler discovered smoke gently wafting from the
wainscoting. The New York Times noted:
Miss Anna Sands takes delight in the fine orderliness of her house. It is a handsome whitestone front, trim without and within. The floors are polished highly, the furniture beautifully kept, and the wainscoting has the finish which is the pride and joy of folks who like soft tones in fine woods.
Rather than panicking, the butler moved quietly “up
the waxed stairs, approached the library and tapped on the door and calmly
announced the fact.”
Anna Sands weighed the possibility of firemen and hoses
trampling through her home against the threat of a conflagration. She opted not to have brutish strangers swarming the house. She telephoned Fire Headquarters and
instructed that she wanted only one fire fighter to come to the mansion. Fireman Reilly was nearby and he ran all the
way to the No. 11. When he found the
front door locked, he rang the bell.
The butler made Reilly wait to be announced. According to The New York Times, after Anna Sands
responded, “Show him in,” the fire fighter was instructed to wipe his feet
before entering. He found the hot spot
between the wall and the wooden wainscoting, near a large fireplace. The vigilant butler hovered over him and when
Reilly started to rip the “many mirrors in the room” from the walls, the
servant stopped him.
In desperation, Reilly grabbed the telephone and called the station house. Within minutes, the fire engine
clattered up 84th Street. “Some
of the precious wainscoting was ripped away and the fire put out,” reported The New York Times. “About $500 damage was done.”
The exasperated Reilly grumbled to a reporter when he got
back to the fire station, “It was a cut-glass affair. We put it out with tumblers of water.”
The members of the Sands family were well-known for various
reasons. Both Anna and her sister, E.
Louise, were prominent in society and in charitable causes. Anna was important in Newport society, and E.
Louise was highly involved in the Social Service Committee of the Volunteer
Hospital. Charles Edward Sands was the
National Court Tennis champion in 1905 and excelled as a racquets player, the
only American to win the Racquette d’Or.
And Katherine had married into one of Manhattan’s wealthiest families. Theodore Augustus Havemeyer’s family owned
the largest sugar refining company in the world.
In 1916 the family hired a new "second butler." Thor Veillegaard was 24 years old and a native of
Norway. The son of wealthy parents, he
was cultured, well-mannered and refined—in short the perfect butler. For months he “wore the Havemeyer livery,” as
described by The New York Times, and announced guests, collected their cloaks
and hats, and helped run the household.
At some point Anna Sands discovered that a diamond brooch was
missing. Theodore Havemeyer most likely had not noticed that some of his expensive shirts and other clothing were
disappearing one-by-one, since it was the butler who took care of his wardrobe.
And then, on Thursday, December 7, 1913, Veillegaard failed
to show up for work. When police checked
his room in the 84th Street mansion, they found disturbing
evidence. “Veillegaard had taken some of
Mr. Havemeyer’s shirts and other clothing as well, according to the detectives,
and they say they found a suitcase packed with still more clothing and left in
Veillegaard’s room in the Havemeyer house, against the time when he could
remove it conveniently,” reported The New York Times.
The butler was arrested on December 12 and a search of his bachelor
apartment in the Bronx revealed more evidence. Among the many pawn tickets was one for Anna Sand’s expensive
brooch, along with others for her gold watch and stickpin. As it turned out, the
Havemeyers and Sands were the third set of victims. Veillegaard had also been butler to the Tilford
and Stoddard families, and had stolen jewelry and other costly items
from them as well.
While E. Louise and Anna summered in Newport, the Havemeyers
maintained a sprawling country estate, Cedar Hill, in Brookville, Long
Island. The large old mansion was filled
with Theodore Havemeyer’s collection of antique English furniture which he had
assembled over many years. On the
morning of December 10, 1927, the Katharine and Theodore left East 84th
Street to spend a weekend there. They had
no hint of what had occurred overnight.
The New York Times reported, “They arrived to find [the
house] a smoking ruin from fire.” A
short circuit had sparked a blaze, which was discovered by the caretaker. Because Brookville had no fire department,
the volunteer fire department from Locust Valley had to respond. While they salvaged some furniture, most of
the valuable antiques were destroyed.
“Practically all that was saved was a collection of Chinese
rugs stored in the attic,” said The New York Times.
Havemeyer estimated the loss in furnishings at around $50,000 and to the
house at $75,000. The total loss today
would amount to approximately $1.8 million.
The resolute couple determined to restore and rebuild Cedar Hill.
In April 1932, Anna Sands underwent an operation in St. Luke’s
Hospital. By then, only E. Louise, and Katharine and Theodore were still living with her in the 84th Street mansion. The operation was
unsuccessful and Anna died in the hospital on April 9. Her $500,000 estate would equal nearly $8.7 million in 2016.
Two years later, in January, E. Louise became ill. On May 5, 1934 she died in 11 East 84th Street.
Two years later, in January, E. Louise became ill. On May 5, 1934 she died in 11 East 84th Street.
The Great Depression and changing trends in fashionable living
threatened Manhattan’s grand mansions.
By now, many had been razed for modern apartment buildings or converted
to multi-family homes. Nevertheless, the
Havemeyers stayed on in No. 11 with their domestic staff. Theodore, however, had been in failing health
since 1932, the year Anna died.
At 9:00 on the night of July 30, Theodore A. Havemeyer died
in Cedar Hill at the age of 67.
Katharine returned to East 84th Street where she remained for
years. Even as she aged, she remained a
social presence. In December 1941, for
instance, she hosted a dinner and dance in the mansion for her debutante niece,
Katharine M. Sands.
By midcentury, the mansion was home to millionaire grain
merchant Rene Eugene Fribourg. Like
Theodore Havemeyer, he was interested in antiques and filled the house with
French 18th century and Empire furniture, a collection of clocks and
valuable artwork. Following his death in
1963, separate auctions were held at Sotheby’s in London: one for the furniture
and clocks, one for his art (garnering nearly $3.5 million), and another
that handled his outstanding collection of European porcelain. Many of the items were purchased by
world-class museums.
Four years after Fribourg’s death, 11 East 84th
Street was sold to the Bulgarian Government as its Permanent Mission to the
United Nations. On reporting the sale,
The New York Times pointed out, “The six-story mansion…contains 16 rooms, eight
fireplaces, and eight bathrooms.” The Bulgarian Government paid $300,000 for the house.
The elegant entrance doors have been replaced with formidable, solid
replacements and bars guard the ground floor window. Otherwise (with the exception of
obtrusive window air conditioners), the magnificent Beaux Arts palace is little
changed since its completion in 1903.
photographs by Alice Lum
photographs by Alice Lum

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Is central air something no one in New York knows about? I am always surprised by all those window units.
ReplyDeleteIn tepid defense, the logistics of running ductwork in historic structures like this is daunting. Sometimes the chimneys or dumbwaiters can be used; but even then disguising the A/C ducts is problematic. Then again, the atrocious metal boxes projecting from the windows are another eyesore.
DeleteThe issue is not New York's alone. As anyone knows by walking through many historic districts around the country and in suburban areas, the destruction of plaster ceilings, trim, paneled walls and woodwork usually precludes installing central air, unless unlimited funds are available in ones renovation budget or one intends to gut some or all of the interiors. I prefer seeing the AC units in the windows knowing the chances are pretty good that someone hasn't completely destroyed the interiors yet.
ReplyDeleteI forget that in the east, gas-forced air is not the preferred system. I live in the West, where all we need to do is install a compressor to an existing system. (I am the original poster. If I try to post as an account rather than anonymous, the system tosses me out.) So central air in old houses like my own (1882) is more common. There are some wonderful modern systems out there now, however, that adapt well to older homes. Odd to think that my small town in Montana is ahead of the tech curve on New York.
ReplyDelete