On February 3, 1854 a young woman placed an advertisement in The New York Herald: “Wanted—A situation by a respectable girl, as a waiter; she understands her business. Can be seen at her present employer’s, 22 Gramercy park.” The term “waiter” in the 19th century referred to the maid who served in the dining room, brought tea, and performed other similar tasks. Her position was a step above the servant girls who scrubbed floors, washed dishes and emptied ash bins. Because she had been permitted to see potential employers in the home, it is obvious that the separation between the waiter and her wealthy mistress was mutual.
The house where the maid would have placed French china soup plates on
Irish linen tablecloths had been built about seven years earlier. The recently-completed Gramercy Park was one
of the most exclusive residential sections of the city, encircled by 60 upscale
residences. No. 22 boasted four stories
of red brick above a rusticated brownstone English basement. An attic floor, cleverly illuminated by small
windows which peeked through the ornate cornice, included two tall dormers, architectural
holdovers from a generation earlier.
While the architect designed the house in the tried-and-true Greek
Revival style; his handsome cornice was in the up-and-coming Italianate style.
The elegant home blended Greek Revival and Italianate styles. Unique attic windows pierce the cornice. photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York |
The mistress of No. 22 Gramercy Park would be looking for a
different type servant in 1859. On April 13
she placed an advertisement seeking “A first class cook; one who thoroughly understands
her business in all its branches. Best of
city references required.”
The affluent family's country estate was apparently not far from the city. On March 14, 1867 an ad read, "Wanted--To go a short distance in the country, a woman to do cooking, washing and ironing, for a moderate sized family."
The affluent family's country estate was apparently not far from the city. On March 14, 1867 an ad read, "Wanted--To go a short distance in the country, a woman to do cooking, washing and ironing, for a moderate sized family."
Directly across the park from No. 22 were the adjoining
mansions of brothers Cyrus and David Dudley Field. Cyrus Field earned fame for successfully
laying the transatlantic telegraph cable in 1866. His attorney brother was responsible for the
Field Code—the move away from common law pleading towards code pleading—and represented
New York as a member of the U.S. House of Representatives.
At some point No. 22 became the city home of their brother,
the Reverend Henry M. Field. Following
the unexpected death of Dudley Field, the only son of David Dudley Field, in
1880, his widow Laura Belden Field moved into No. 22 with her uncle by
marriage. She remained here until June 1884
when her father-in-law gave her the nearby house at No. 83 Irving Place.
Rev. Henry M. Field left Gramercy Park following his brother's death and retired to Stockbridge, Massachusetts. photo from Notable New Yorkers (copyright expired) |
David Dudley Field’s third wife, Mary E. Carr, had died in
1874. Alone in his sprawling mansion and
with failing health, he moved into his brother’s house across the park by
1890.
That year, in May, reporters visited the house to question
the famed jurist regarding what The Sun called “outrageous census questions.” While citizens accepted that the Federal government
had the right to count the population; they were shocked when census takers
asked “impudent questions as to private debts and disease.” Field was clear in his opinion. “I should not tell whether my farm was mortgaged,
and as for the Government’s sending out men to inquire into the diseases of its
citizens, it is ridiculous. It is none
of the Government’s business, and Congress, in authorizing it, has in my
opinion overstepped its authority.”
David Dudley Field sat for famed photographer Mathew Brady for this portrait. from the collection of the Library of Congress |
Field suffered from what The Sun deemed “chronic disease of
the heart.” The newspaper gently chided
him for disobeying his doctor’s orders on May 2, 1891. The article said he “was somewhat weaker
yesterday morning, on account of work which he undertook on Thursday afternoon
against his physician’s advice.” The Sun
held out hopes of his recovery, reporting that “He ate for dinner a dish of
soup and two chops.”
Field did recover and three years later the New-York Tribune
noted “his health seemed restored.
Within the past few years he had pursued his natural activities in the
direction of law literature.” The lawyer’s
only surviving child, the widow of Sir Anthony Musgrave, lived in London. His
health was hearty enough that he visited her early in 1894 to celebrate his
grandson’s 21st birthday,
Field returned to New York on the Columbia on Wednesday
morning, April 11. The Tribune reported
“his younger brother, the Rev. Dr. Henry M. Field, Editor of ‘The Evangelist,’
who had driven to the pier to meet him, found himself half an hour late, and welcomed
his returning brother at No. 22 Gramercy Park, where David Dudley Field had
maintained his apartments since his retirement from the house on the opposite
side of the park.”
Field’s health seemed fine to his brother. He told a reporter “I found him in the
dining-room, and he arose and stretched out his arms and embraced me in a most
loving way. He said he never felt better
in his life. We sat down and talked in a
most cheerful manner.”
When David Dudley Field arose on the morning of April 12 he
said he had caught a cold and a doctor was called. The problem was worse than a cold. Field had contracted pneumonia and he died
that evening.
On the day of his funeral, April 15, The New York Times
reported “All day Friday and yesterday telegrams of condolence from all parts
of the country were received by the family.
Hundreds of people called at the home of the Rev. Henry M. Field, 22 Gramercy
Park, where Mr. Field died, and left their cards. Among the number were nearly all the
prominent lawyers of New-York City.”
The newspaper said that at “22 Gramercy Park, the Field
home, ostentatious display of mourning trappings was avoided. Heavy crape over the front door bell was
about the only concession to conventional exhibition of woe.”
Unexpectedly, “It was decided not to place the body in one
of the parlors down stairs, but to put the coffin on trestles near a front
window of the second-floor parlor overlooking Gramercy Park.
“Around the bier were cherished family souvenirs…The coffin
was covered with heliotrope, violets, maidenhair fern, roses, and palms, and
elsewhere in the room was a profusion of fragrant blossoms. But for the coffin the apartment was a
boudoir.”
The pall bearers were chosen from the most esteemed names in
politics and jurisprudence, including Chief Justice Fuller of the United States
Supreme Court, Chief Justice Andrews of the Court of Appeals, and U.S.
Congressman and New York City Mayor Abram S. Hewitt.
Henry M. Field left Gramercy Park within the year and his
elegant home was operated as a boarding house for well-to-do bachelors. On January 13, 1895 an advertisement appeared
in the New-York Tribune offering available rooms on the same floor where David
Dudley Field had died. “Gentlemen only;
large, handsomely furnished second floor rooms, en suite or separate; private
bath, breakfast.”
Among the respectable boarders in 1895 were Duncan Gray and
W. B. Northrop. The affluence of Gray
was evidenced that year when the family of John Corbett arrived at Port
Jefferson, Long Island on October 17.
The Sun reported “The family came to this village on the yacht Gitchie
Gumee, which is said to have been stolen from Duncan Gray of 22 Gramercy Park.”
In the meantime Northrop was adding to his fortune by
selling real estate in St. Augustine.
The Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide noted on December 14 1895 “This
is a privilege that was much and vainly sought hitherto owing to the scarcity
of suitable sites, and as a consequent cottages owned by private parties are
not as numerous in this delightful Florida town as they would otherwise have
been.” The Guide warned that Northop’s
two plots near the Ponce de Leon Hotel and the Flagler mansion “will soon
disappear from the market through rapid sales.”
Also boarding in the house was Assistant District Attorney
Allen and Rushton Peabody, described by The New York Times as “a member of the
old Peabody family, being a nephew of ex-Judge Peabody.”
On the night of April 10, 1896 the 27-year old Peabody found
himself behind bars. Earlier that
evening he was traveling uptown on a Broadway cable car. Robert Green, who lived in Mount Vernon, New
York, sat down next to him and, according to Peabody, “continually rubbed
against him.”
At 23rd Street Peabody left the car and entered
the fashionable Fifth Avenue Hotel. As
he sat in the lobby, he was surprised to see Green enter. The man sat next to him and “annoyed him in
the same manner as in the car.”
Rushton Peabody, offended at the apparent homosexual
advances, forgot his mannerly upbringing.
Amid millionaires and socialites, he “pummeled” his abuser. The New York Times reported “A crowd
collected, and Policeman Pomeroy arrested Mr. Peabody and took him to the
station house, where he was locked up on Green’s complaint.”
The mansion continued to be operated as a bachelor boarding
house; although as it had been in 1896, the only meal provided was breakfast. On September 25, 1900 an advertisement read “Gentlemen
only; handsomely furnished suite; also front room; private bath in both;
basement, hot, cold water; hall room; breakfast.”
In the last week of December 1904 a new boarder arrived,
giving his name as James G. Walker. What
the landlady did not know was that Walker, who also went by alias Lawrence
Macy, was described by police as the “most notorious furnished room thief in
America.”
He was recognized by detectives on the afternoon of New Year’s
Eve and “arrested at Fifth Avenue and Twenty-first Street…after an exciting
chase and a jump through a window in his effort to escape,” according to The Times. His capture solved the cases of “twelve or
fifteen mysterious furnished room robberies.”
Among his targets had been No. 22 Gramercy Park where “after being there
several days he managed to ‘clean out’ four apartments occupied by Messrs. Donald
Appenzeller, C. B. Caper, J. R. Royal, and F. B. Johnson. Clothing valued at more than $500 was taken
from the Gramercy Park house.”
Among the more upstanding boarders that year was 23-year old
E. A. McManus. He drew the attention and
admiration of ladies city-wide when The Evening World journalist Catherine King
performed an undercover investigation on September 29.
King, like many female subway riders, was offended by the
lack of manners shown by male passengers.
She entered a crowded car on the Lexington line hoping to find a man
courteous enough to give her a seat.
Finally, in the fourth car she tried, E. A. McManus stood up. King reported the following day “In addition
to making way for me, his action caused other young men in the car to follow
suit to the advantage of three other women who were standing—and this all
before I handed the astonished young man the envelope containing The Evening
World’s order for $10, payable to the first man who complied with the rules
laid down by this paper in the Diogenesque hunt for a polite man.”
McManus told Catherine King that he was on his way to the 71st
Regiment Armory where he was a member of Company B. and way trying out for the
basketball team.
Early the next year, in March 1906, the building’s owner Mrs.
Mary Seymour, who lived on Park Avenue, updated the aging structure. The $10,000 worth of improvements (nearly a
quarter of a million dollars in 2016) included new plumbing, an electric
elevator, and hot water heating.
No. 22 returned to life as a single-family home when it was
purchased by Emily N. Vanderpoel around 1910. The
daughter of lawyer William Curtis Noyes, whose family arrived in Massachusetts
in 1634, she was the widow of John A. Vanderpoel. Like his wife’s family, the Vanderpoels were
long established in America, arriving in America by 1657.
Emily Vanderpoel -- Litchfield Historical Society |
Well-known as an author and artist, she was best known for
her painting “Ypres,” a World War I scene which was acquired by
the National Museum in Washington D.C.
She earned a bronze medal during the 1893 Chicago Exposition and was a
member of the New York Watercolor Club and the Woman’s Art Club of New York.
The main parlor as it appeared during Emily Vanderpoel's residency. The large painting over the fireplace may be her work. photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York |
As an author, her topics were diverse. In 1902 she published Chronicles of a Pioneer
School from 1792-1833, which related the history of Sarah Pierce and her school
in Litchfield, Connecticut. She wrote
another book in `1924 on the same general topic. She also penned several books concerning
color problems in painting, and about American lace and lacemakers.
Emily converted the fourth floor as her studio. She removed the flooring of the attic and
extended the center window into the cornice. To
accommodate the enormous skylight, the quaint dormers were removed.
Emily's studio was flooded with light from above and behind. It was the essence of stylish Edwardian clutter. photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York |
Emily Noyes Vanderpoel divided her time between the Gramercy
Park house and her Leitchfield, Connecticut “cottage” for decades. She died at No. 22 at the age of 96 on
February 20, 1939.
The following year, on February 4, The New York Times
reported the house had sold, “one of the dwindling list of remaining private
homes around this park.” It would not be
a private home for long.
A conversion was completed later that year, resulting in
eight apartments, some duplexes. Residents
throughout the next decade would include architect Cino Costa; James W. Brown,
Foreign Secretary of the International Y.M.C.A.; and Robert T. Lansdale,
Commissioner of the New York State Department of Social Welfare. Max Lerner, famed editorial writer and author
moved into an apartment in 1943.
During the war years, Brigadier General Herbert D. Gibson
and his wife lived in the building; as did the family of Colonel Thomas M.
Tarpley, Jr. He received the bronze star
medal in 1945 for his action in Bataan.
In 2008 another conversion began which resulted in two
expansive condominium apartments. One, a
triplex with three bedrooms and five baths was listed for $11.5 million before
the renovations were completed.
The cast iron balcony, while period-appropriate, is a recent addition, as is the stoop ironwork. |
Owner Eric Ellenborgen, CEO of Marvel Comics, sold the top
three floors in May 2010; retaining the lower floors as his own home. In July 2011 the owners of both condos joined
forces and put the building on the market for $23.9 million. The offer, noted Adam Fusfeld of The Real
Deal, gave the potential buyer “the opportunity to purchase all six floors, 16
rooms and seven bedrooms.”
Neither Henry Field nor Emily Vanderpoel would recognize the house today. photograph by Corcoran |
Instead, the former mansion continues to house two massive
apartments. The 1840s elements have been
ripped out and replaced by 21st century interiors. The landmarked exterior, however, is not
greatly changed since Emily Vanderpoel installed her artist studio in the first
decades of the 20th century.
photographs by the author
Definitely prefer the original interior. The 'modern' decor looks tacky in old buildings. I know we have to put up with it so the beautiful buildings don't get torn down, but I'm sick of cheap furniture and white walls as the only form of 'modern' interior design.
ReplyDeleteI completely agree! That hideous office modern decor is an offense to what was there before! Interiors should be respected as well as exteriors.
Delete--Amorette
The picture of Emily's Studio is quite interesting. Obviously not what would be an artist's 'working' studio! But what in the world is that STUFF hanging from the ceiling? It looks like fish nets - very odd décor.
ReplyDeleteI am wondering if that is a sort of drapery that could be pulled over the skylight to protect the upholstery and carpeting, etc. from the direct sunlight. It appears to be on a rod of sort at the rear.
Delete