Gronenberg & Leuchtag's 1929 118 Riverside Drive

 

Interestingly, the architects chamfered the 84th Street corner, but not the end at 83rd Street.

By the mid-1920s, opulent private dwellings were falling from favor as luxurious apartment buildings offered convenience and modern amenities.  In 1928, the Driveway Realty Corporation demolished the buildings at 337 through 339 West 83rd Street, the mansions at 110 through 118 Riverside Drive, and at 348 West 84th Street.  The syndicate, headed by Joseph H. Schwartz, hired Gronenberg & Leuchtag to design a massive apartment building on the site.

Completed at a cost of $1.2 million (about $22.6 million in 2026), the 16-story structure was designed in the Renaissance Revival style and faced in variegated beige brick.  Although the entrances were on 83rd and 84th Streets, they took the more impressive addresses of 110 and 118 Riverside Drive.  The architects embellished the overall spartan design with romantic stone and terra cotta Renaissance elements.  The identical entrances sat within two-story stone frames.  Intricately carved, layered columns flanked the double doors.  They sat within an arch with alternating carved and planar voussoirs.  Directly above was a triple arcade with twisted columns.

Added interest was achieved with faux terra cotta balconies with spiral columns, ornate panels of swag-draped cartouches and rondels with faces at the fifth and fourteenth floors.  An arched corbel table of terra cotta ran below the terminal cornice.

On May 15, 1929, The New York Times reported that S. Fishkin and C. F. Zittel had signed leases.  Carl Florian Zittel, known popularly as Zit, was among New York's most well-known talent agents and managers.  

C. F. Zittel (original source unknown)

Born in Patterson, New Jersey in January 1876, Zittel began his career as a boy selling newspapers on the corner of Fourth Avenue and 23rd Street.  By the time he and his wife, the former Martha Beatrice Bernstein, moved into 118 Riverside Drive, he had founded and was publisher of Zit's Weekly (a forerunner to Billboard), was the manager of the Central Park Casino, and an executive within Marcus Loew's theatrical chain.

At 10:30 on the morning of December 13, 1930, two delivery men arrived at the service entrance with a kitchen table wrapped in brown paper.  The New York Times reported, "They were admitted without question and were taken to the service elevator."  The pair went up to the eight-room Zittel apartment.  The maid, Maud Draggon, opened the service door on its lock chain.  One of the men explained, "We have a package here for you, but you aren't to let Mr. Zittel see it."  Assuming it was a Christmas president for Zittel, she opened the door.  The men slid the table into the kitchen.

Martha Zittel heard the noise and entered the kitchen.  The New York Times reported, "As she opened the door the tall man pointed his pistol at her and demanded 'money and jewelry.'"  She said she had nothing and he asked where the wall safe was.  Terrified, Martha said it was empty and when she opened it, indeed it was.

The veteran burglars knew that there would be another safe somewhere in the apartment.  They found it covered by a red velvet drape, pretending to be a pedestal for a large statue.  When Martha said she did not know the combination, one of the thugs placed a knife to her throat.  With trembling fingers, she unsuccessfully tried to work the combination once, and then the second time it opened.  "The men pushed her aside and started the quick work of cleaning out the contents."  The newspaper said, "Thirty-five minutes after they had casually ascended by the service elevator they went down again--the richer by $150,000 in jewelry.  They left the table...the only clue by which the police hope to establish some future contact with them."  The value of the heist would translate to $2.9 million today.

The Zittel apartment was by far not the only target of the ingenious burglars, who gained access by posing as floral deliverymen, upholsterers and other service men.  Ten months after the Zittel robbery, "two sleek young men," as described by The New York Times were arrested for the string of thefts.

Other residents at the time were William J. Pedrick, Max Henry Wurtzel and Radoye Yankovitch, the Consul General of Yugoslovia.

The Yankovitch apartment was the scene of social and diplomatic gatherings.  One event that straddled both was the dinner party they gave "in honor of Mrs. and Mr. B. Singer, Consul General of Turkey and president of the Pan-American Consular Corps of Chicago" on April 22, 1930.

William J. Pedrick and his wife, the former Rea Katherine Forhan, had four children.  He had served in the Army Air Service during World War I and became president of the Fifth Avenue Association in 1931.  His career would take a few turns in the coming years.  On February 11, 1935, The New York Times reported that he was stepping down to become president of William J. Pedrick & Co., "a new general insurance and real estate enterprise."  He would change course again seven years later when he was sworn in as Collector of Internal Revenue for the Second District on February 12, 1942.

Insurance broker Max Henry Wurtzel was a well-to-do bachelor.  He shared his apartment with his sister, Rose, her husband, Harry G. Matfis, and their son, Jerome.  The Matfis family lived with Wurtzel, it seems, because Harry Matfis was insolvent.  Wurtzel attempted repeatedly to get him onto his feet.  According to Dr. George L. Wurtzel, Max's brother, "Matfis was set up in the haberdashery business four times," by Max, and each time he failed.

The Great Depression dealt a blow to Max Wurtzel.  On November 23, 1933, The Chicago Daily Tribune explained, "Wurtzel recently lost $200,000."  His stress was heightened when Harry Matfis asked "to borrow more money" on November 21.  Early the next morning, Wurtzel walked into Harry Matfis's bedroom and shot him in the head while he was sleeping.  He then returned to his own bedroom and swallowed poison.

Rose Matfis discovered the carnage when she went into Harry's bedroom to awaken him.  Her brother had left a note on the back of one of his business cards:  "I am sorry to cause all this trouble, folks.  Take care of Jerry.  Please see that I am buried from Riverside Memorial Hospital."

Harry C. McClarity was president of the marine consulting firm H. C. McClarity Company and of the Union Stevedoring Corporation.  He and his wife, the former Hazel Dell, had a daughter.  Their country home, Dellcrest, was in Westport, Connecticut.  

At 11:00 on the morning of March 14, 1938, McClarity asked the butler, 44-year-old Lawrence L. Devine, "to go out and buy some cigarettes and newspapers," according to The New York Sun.  An hour later, McClarity became impatient and rang for the butler, who did not answer.  When Devine was not back at 1:00, McClarity, "searched the apartment promising himself he would fire the butler when he found him," said the article.

Suddenly, he had a alarming thought.  He went into his daughter's bedroom and opened the top drawer where she kept her jewelry box.  It was empty.  He then looked in his desk and discovered $1,300 in cash was gone.  The New York Sun reported, "Included in the jewelry was a brooch containing 281 diamonds and twelve emeralds, valued at $9,000; a clip pin made of 198 diamonds, worth $5,000; a diamond ring, valued at $3,500 and a diamond and pearl ring valued at $700."  

Two days later, The New York Times said that police were still searching for Devine after he disappeared "on the same day that $19,500 in jewelry and cash vanished from the McClarity apartment."  

This unidentified living room was photographs by Wurts Bros. in 1942.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

At the time, Charles E. Hohn and his wife, Maia Bang, occupied a penthouse apartment.  Born in 1887, Hohn was a silk importer.  Maia Bang was born in Norway in 1880 and came to America around 1920 “as an assistant to Leopold Hauer,” according to The New York Times.  (Hauer was a Hungarian violinist, conductor and composer.)  Maia Bang was an accomplished violinist and violin teacher, and the author of several books on musical instruction.

Maia Bang died in their apartment on January 3, 1940.  Two years later, on March 8, 1942, a doorman noticed milk bottles and newspapers outside the apartment door.  Using a passkey, he entered the apartment and "found Mr. Hohn lying on the roof," according to The New York Times.  He called the police and a doctor.  They told reporters that Charles Hohn "had been dead about ten or twelve hours and that death was apparently due to a heart attack."

The building got a celebrity in 1940 when baseball star Babe Ruth and his wife, Claire Hodgson, moved in.  George Herman Ruth was born in 1895.  The stellar athlete earned the nickname The Sultan of Swat during his 22 seasons that ended in 1935.  He is remembered as one of the greatest baseball players of all time and when he and Clair moved into the Riverside Drive building, he was nothing short of an idol to millions of Americans.

Babe Ruth, his first wife, Helen Woodford, and their daughter in 1925.  from the collection of the Library of Congress

On March 25, 1946, Ruth was clocked at driving 60 miles per hour on the Saw Mill River Parkway.  It may have been his celebrity that earned him "a pass" when his ticket was dismissed.

Within a year, Babe Ruth was battling cancer.  On February 16, 1947, The New York Times reported that Babe Ruth had left the French Hospital, "perceptibly grayer, a little weak on his feet, and weighing 189 pounds."  He had lost 36 pounds since entering the hospital a month earlier.  He told a reporter, "I want to look at the river from my apartment window."

The President of Mexico, Miguel Aleman, visited New York City three months later.  He made time on his busy agenda to visit Babe Ruth in his apartment on May 5.

Ruth died in the hospital on August 16, 1948 at the age of 53.  His casket was displayed in the rotunda of Yankee Stadium for two days, seen by approximately 77,000 people.

Dr. Joseph Nisonoff occupied a medical suite here as early as 1942.  That year he was out on a $25,000 bail, charged with "performing an illegal operation" in May 1940.  (The polite term referred to an abortion.)  A similar charged had been dismissed in 1930.  He was in trouble again on November 26, 1942.  The New York Times reported that he had been "charged with homicide in connection with the death of a woman government employe [sic] after an illegal operation."  Assistant District Attorney James Carney described Nisonoff as a "murderer" and "unfit to be a doctor."

On April 8, 1943, Nisonoff was sentenced to "an indeterminate term in the city penitentiary."  In sentencing him, Judge Lester W. Patterson said, "There is no question in my mind that this man performed hundreds, maybe even a thousand abortions.  The dead girl was four months pregnant when he performed the abortion, and but for him the girl would be alive today."

Somewhat shockingly, a month later The New York Times reported that Nissonoff had been granted "a certificate of reasonable doubt pending [his] appeal in the Appellate Division" and had been released at $35,000 bail.   This time, however, Dr. Nissonoff was unsuccessful.  On April 20, 1945, he began his five to fifteen year sentence in State Prison.

In January 1959, Claire Ruth was scheduled to be interviewed by Edward R. Murrow for the popular television program Person to Person.  Her daughter and grandson traveled from New Hampshire to be part of the episode, which was to be filmed in the Ruth apartment.  But an unprecedented glitch occurred.

The managing agent for the building, Felix Harding, demanded a fee "for the use of the facilities."  Co-producer of the show, Jesse Zousmer "said that it was the first time in five years and 460 visits that such a problem had arisen," reported The New York Times.  The producers refused, saying "it would raise a question of doing the same thing for the hundreds of other people already interviewed."  Claire Ruth told The New York Times she was "deeply hurt" by the cancellation.

Claire Hodgson Ruth died of cancer in "her memorabilia-filled apartment," as worded by The New York Times, at the age of 76 on October 26, 1976.  The article said that in the 28 years since her husband's death, "Mrs. Ruth had devoted her life to his memory and achievements."

In 1982, the building was converted to cooperatives.  The co-op board, unfortunately, did not regulate the replacement windows, resulting in today's mish-mash of fenestration.  Otherwise, the nearly century-old structure survives lovingly intact.

photographs by the author