image via apartments.com
J. C. Burne acted as both architect and real estate developer when he planned an apartment building at the southeast corner of Broadway and 99th Street just before the turn of the last century. Above the two-story stone base, five stories of beige brick were trimmed in terra cotta. His Renaissance Revival design included elaborate Italian style pediments over certain openings. Burne placed the entrance at 230 West 99th Street within a stately portico upheld by paired columns.
from Empire State Notables, 1914 (copyright expired)
The widely talented Hawley was born in Brookfield,
Connecticut and began playing the church organ there when he was 12 years
old. By the time he moved into La
Riviera, he was the music director and solo basso at the Broadway Tabernacle Church. In addition, he was a vocal
instructor and composer, having written popular songs like "Spring’s
Awakening,” “Ah! ‘tis a Dream,” and “The Sweetest Flower that Blows.”
In April 1904, resident Mrs. Vienna Gano found
herself in serious legal trouble. A
Christian Scientist, Mrs. Gano accepted “patients” whom she would cure by
faith. Among them was actress Loretta
Young, who came with a disturbing problem. (This stage actress should not be confused with the later motion picture star of the same name.) She was engaged to be married to actor Earl Dewey in May and in
mid-April had undergone an operation performed by Dr. Charles M. Tobynne. The police became involved when Young died on
April 20. It appears, since both Tobynne
and his nurse were arrested, that the procedure had been an abortion. The New York Times reported, “a
subpoena was issued for Mrs. Vienna Gao of La Riviera Apartments, 230 West
Ninety-ninth Street, a Christian Scientist, to whom Miss Young had applied for
treatment, but who, according to Detective Short, stated that she had abandoned
Miss Young’s case because the actress lacked faith.”
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Bertha Shalek in costume in a 1906 publicity photo. from the J. Willis Sayre Collection of Theatrical Photographs of the University of Washington.
Joan Schon, who also lived here that year, was marginally
involved in the theater. She was a
masseuse and among her well-known clients was opera star Emma Calve. Their relationship was both professional and
social. The New York Press said
on January 9, 1908, “Miss Schon is a great friend of Calve.”
When Joan’s dentist, Dr. Allison W. Harland, discovered the
friendship, he sought to profit from it.
The Sun explained, “he felt he would get the singer as a customer if
Miss Schon would recommend him.” Joan
considered the request and said she would speak to Madame Calve. The newspaper added that she cautioned, “But, I will not do that
for a song. I must get something out of
it.” Dr. Harlan promised Joan Schon he would give her one-third of any bill
paid by Calve.
On March 17, 1907, acting on Schon’s recommendation, the
diva visited Dr. Harlan’s office. Her
bill totaled $900 (nearly $29,000 today).
The Sun said that Madame Calve was “so pleased with the work that
she paid without a murmur. She told her
friend Joan about it.” When Joan visited the dentist for her cut, according to The Sun, he told her, “it would be a breach of professional ethics for him to pay for even friendly 'touting.'" And so, the dentist and the
masseuse ended up in court.
The building’s most colorful resident was Professor W. Bert
Reese, a mentalist who had appeared (according to him) before several crowned
heads of Europe. Around the time of Joan
Schon’s lawsuit, he visited Thomas A. Edison uninvited and, according to the
inventor, “gave him information which he lacked, concerning certain ingredients
needful in his storage batteries.” The
two men had not previously met.
Having reservations, Edison later sent a telegraph to Dr. W. H. Thomson which read, “See Prof. W. Bert Reese, 230
West Ninety-ninth Street, New York City.”
The New York Times recalled on November 13, 1910, “Dr. Thomson
tested him and found him genuine. Being
a fair-minded man, he wrote at once to Mr. Edison and told him that the mind
reader, or whatever he may be, had done extraordinary things.”
W. Bert Reese, Psychical Research Review, Volume III No. 2 August 1917 (copyright expired)
Reese would be tested again in January 1913. An undercover female detective appeared at
his apartment, “representing herself as a single woman burdened with wealth and
real estate, but trouble far more by her inability to attract mankind,” said The
New York Times on January 18. He
advised her not to sell her real estate, saying he thought it would “increase
twofold in value, owing to the election of a Democratic President.” Although he refused payment of any kind, she
arrested him for fortune telling.
At the station house, detectives poked fun at the
62-year-old. Eventually, Reese asked
one, Detective Sussillio, “to write down on a piece of paper any question he
desired answered,” said The New York Times. Sussillio wrote down his question, showed it
to another detective, and folded it away.
“You have asked me to tell you the first name of your
mother. Her first name is Pauline,” said
Reese.
He had gotten both the question and the answer correct.
In night court, Magistrate Krotel questioned the female
detective. The New York Times
reported, “after learning that she had put false questions to Reese told her
she could not complain at receiving false answers.” Reese was released.
He was not so lucky two years later when another undercover
detective came to his apartment. This
time he accepted five dollars from Adele Priess. He began his plea in court, “No, I am not a
low fortune teller, I’m an entertainer.
I have entertained James J. Hill, William Travers Jerome and Charles
Dillingham. The crowned heads…” He was cut off at that point by the
Magistrate who asked whether he had accepted the five dollars.
“That was just part of the entertainment,” Reese responded.
He was released under $1,000 bond and ordered “not to
entertain that way for a year.”
The Reeses were still living here in 1926 when W. Bert Reese
died in Europe. His widow continued to
live in their apartment.
By 1913, Lucille Dreyfous and Florence Dreyfous occupied an apartment. The 45-year-old Florence was an
artist who exhibited two watercolors, A Boy and Mildred, in the
landmark International Exhibition of Modern Art that year. She had studied at the Chase School of Art
and under Robert Henri at the Henri School of Art. The Brooklyn Museum of Art included her work
in its 1921 watercolor exhibition.
Florence Dreyfous's A Boy's Portrait was typical of her style.
On the night of June 1, 1920, a burglar entered the
apartment of Gilbert Kuh and his wife by shimmying up the dumb water. He made off with “jewelry and wearing apparel
valued at several hundred dollars,” according to the New-York Tribune. Working on the statement from the building’s
janitor that he saw the crook stashing “part of the loot in the courtyard of
the building,” a detective hid in there in the shadows. The plan worked. Before dawn the thief returned to recover his
booty. John Buckley, a 29-year-old
tile layer, was arrested. He denied any knowledge of the crime.
Three weeks after the incident, the New-York Tribune
reported that La Riviera had been leased to the West Ninety-ninth Street
Corporation for 84 years. The article
noted, “The lessees have filed plans for extensive alterations…including the
remodeling of the ground floor into stores.”
The renovations resulted in three stores on the Broadway side.
The cornice survived as late as 1941. image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.
In 1954 the corner store was home to the office of
optometrist Murray M. Smolar.
Appropriately, today a branch of Cohen’s Fashion Optical occupies the
space. Coincidentally, 2616 Broadway,
which was the Hong Liquor Store in the third quarter of the 20th
century, today houses Cork & Barrel, another liquor store.
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