Showing posts with label 43 Fifth Avenue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 43 Fifth Avenue. Show all posts

Saturday, May 1, 2010

The 1903 Andrew Carnegie Mansion


Photograph Cooper-Hewitt Museum

Walter C. Gale had a good life in the early days of the 20th century.  A composer and musician, he was the organist of the Broadway Tabernacle and it was he who played the organ at the St. Louis World's Fair--unfortunately causing the ceiling to collapse.  The New York Times apologetically reported, "But the ceiling was weak."

Every morning a servant would politely greet him at the doors of the new mansion of Andrew Carnegie.  Silently he would make his way to the Aeolian organ in the reception hall where he waited.  Then, exactly at 7:00, he began playing.  The music wafted upward, gently rousing Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie from their slumber. 

Andrew Carnegie's day could now begin.


The Aeolian organ sits in the reception hall -- photo Smithsonian Institution Archives

(On December 28, 1905 The New York Times mentioned, "It is understood that Mr. Gale is very well paid for getting up early enough in the morning to wake Andrew Carnegie.")

The house in which Walter Gale filled the role as human alarm clock was not merely a grand mansion, it was unique among the homes of New York's turn-of-the-century elite.  Carnegie was born in 1835 in the attic of a tiny house in Dunfermline, Scotland to parents he would later describe as "poor but honest."  Their simple lessons of humility, charity, and egalitarianism never left him.

For over 30 years, the Carnegies had resided in a brownstone mansion next to the Vanderbilt's lavish Fifth Avenue chateau.  Carnegie longed to escape Millionaire's Row where he found the ostentatious behavior of his neighbors distasteful and irresponsible.  He felt that the duty of the wealthy was to patronize the arts and to enable those of lesser means to enjoy education and enriched lives.

As the 19th century waned, mansions were cropping up as far north as 70th Street.  Carnegie, in a surprising act of real estate leap frog, purchased land 20 blocks further up, across from Central Park, far north of any other mansions--an act some millionaires called foolish.  But Andrew Carnegie was not simply seeking isolation, he wanted space.  Having grown weary of great residences built shoulder-to-shoulder, he sought open air and, especially, an immense garden--rare in urban environments.  When interviewed by The New York Tribune, he said, "The precious little life that has come to us needs the Park and sunshine."

In 1899, he commissioned Babb, Cook & Willard to design his house at 2 East 91 Street.  In somewhat incongruous terms, his direction to them was simple: it should be the "most modest, plainest and most roomy house in New York."



Babb, Cook & Willard produced a neo-Georgian English country estate surrounded by a heavy cast iron fence and, without a doubt, the largest lawn and garden in the City.  A far cry from the French confections of other millionaires, the dignified brick and limestone residence was completed in 1903.  Four stories high, including the attic, its basement descending another three levels.  Inside were 64 rooms.

The main entrance, protected by a copper and glass canopy, was approached by a semi-circular drive.  The rear facade nearly mirrors the front and sits on a raised terrace with broad steps leading down to the gardens.  A separate wing housing the art gallery sprouted at the east side and the glass conservatory sat towards the gardens, connected by a passageway.



photo Cooper Hewitt Museum

Carnegie brought in nearly 30 full-grown trees from upstate and Connecticut for his garden.  The landscaping was purposely designed so that passersby could pear into and enjoy his gardens.

The first residential structure in New York City to employ a steel framework, the Carnegie house was a wonder of up-to-date technology.  A central heating and cooling system brought air in from the outside, filtered it, heated or cooled it and adjusted the humidity.  A filtering system purified the drinking water.  Two huge boilers provided steam heat to the main house, two smaller ones heated the conservatory, and yet another provided hot water for bathing, dish washing, and such.

In the basement, a miniature railroad transported fuel from the coal bin to the boilers.  On a typical winter day two tons of coal would be consumed to heat the mansion.  And although Carnegie's drink of choice was Dewar's scotch, the basement included a 1500-bottle wine cellar.

For years the Carnegies lived happily with their 20 servants at 2 East 91st.  From his huge desk (so large it had to be constructed inside the office), Andrew Carnegie gave away around $350 million--over $60 million of which went for the establishment and construction of Carnegie Libraries around the country.

photo Smithsonian Institution Archives

Andrew Carnegie died on August 11, 1919.  Having once said, "no man is a true gentleman who does not inspire the affection and devotion of his servants," he bequeathed considerable amounts to his long-time butler, nurse, the housekeeper and the eldest of his staff.  "These four," his will explained, "are as members of my family."

Smithsonian Instition Archives

Louise Whitfield Carnegie remained in the house until her death on June 24, 1946.  She willed the mansion to The Carnegie Corporation which, in 1972, donated it to the Smithsonian Institution for use as the Cooper Hewitt National Museum of Design.  Despite the Smithsonian's astonishing protests that, "We are not persuaded that this house is deserving of landmark status," the Landmarks Preservation Commission deemed it so on February 19, 1974.

The interiors have been essentially preserved, although the beloved organ by which Andrew Carnegie was soothed awake by Walter Gale's morning music is no longer.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

The Isaac D. Fletcher Mansion - 2 East 79th Street and 5th Avenue


In the 1880's great brownstone mansions lined fashionable Fifth Avenue.  Standing out from the row of chocolate-colored homes, however, was the white limestone chateau of William K. Vanderbilt at 660 Fifth Avenue, designed by Richard Morris Hunt.  Vanderbilt's wife, the former Alva Erskine Smith, wanted her home to be noticed, and indeed it was.

As the century drew to a close, other marble and limestone mansions were erected, firmly establishing brownstone as a building material passe.  In 1898 banker and railroad tycoon Isaac Dudley Fletcher commissioned architect C. P. H. Gilbert to design a house at 79th Street and Fifth Avenue that would rival even Alva Vanderbilt's "Petite Chateau."  Gilbert, who trained at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Paris, was being noticed among society, having already designed large residences for prosperous Brooklynites and a few Riverside Drive mansions.  In time he would be known as the architect of mansions, designing over one hundred homes in New York City, some of them true palaces, like the De Lamar House (now the Polish Consulate).

Upon its completion, the Fletchers commissioned Jean-Francois Raffaelli to paint a portrait their house.  collection of the Metropolitan Museu of Art
Gilbert designed an asymmetrical French Gothic limestone chateau exploding spiky turrets on the eaveline, ornate dormers and wide connected chimneys.  Fletcher and his wife Mary, along with their staff of eight servants, lived in the house until his death in 1917.   By the terms of his will the mansion was donated to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, along with 251 objects of art from the couple's extensive collection which included works by artists such as Gainesborough, Rembrandt and Rubens--a windfall to the museum worth $2 million at the time. 

A year later, in order to create The Fletcher Fund for adding prints and drawings to the collection, the Metropolitan Museum sold the mansion to Sinclair Oil founder Harry F. Sinclair.  Sinclair and his wife Elizabeth left the house virtually untouched, other than having the Estey Organ Company install a three-manual, automatic roll player pipe organ in 1922.  One can imagine that the staid dinner parties hosted by the Fletchers were in sharp contrast to the pre-Depression era bashes reportedly thrown by the Sinclairs.



The Teapot Dome Scandal brought Harry Sinclair's carefree lifestyle to an end.  His trial, which began in October of 1927 ended up in the Supreme Court two years later.  While Sinclair was acquitted of the more serious charges, he was convicted of contempt of court, fined and sentenced to six months in prison (Sinclair had hired detectives to keep tabs on every jury member).

After his release, Sinclair attempted to continue his life as before.  His reputation was ruined, however, and in 1930 he sold No. 2 and moved west where he lived until his death in Pasadena in 1956.

Gilbert's astounding detail carved children upholding a bronze figure upholding a complex Gothic element. photograph by the author
It was Augustus Van Horn Stuyvesant, the last surviving descendant of Peter Stuyvesant to carry the surname, who purchased the former Fletcher mansion.  A reclusive bachelor, he moved in with his unmarried sister, Anne, thereby beginning the strangest period in the history of the house.  The pair, heirs to one of the most venerated names in New York, spent their time cloistered in the home, hidden away from the bustling world outside.

In 1938 Anne died, leaving Augustus Van Horn Stuyvesant alone in the cavernous mansion.  Preferring not to entertain nor to be entertained by others, he lived out his life with his servants.  According to Fortune Magazine in 1939 he "eats utterly alone at the big dining room table...served by Vernon, the butler, and an assisting footman."

When Stuyvesant died in 1953 the great house sat quietly vacant for two years.  An auction of the Stuyvesant furniture, carpets and artwork left it eerily empty.  Then in 1955 the Ukranian Institute of America purchased that house as their headquarters.  The Institute promotes the history, art, music and culture of the Ukraine and regularly hosts concerts, exhibitions and lectures.  Few people realize that the Ukranian Institute is open to the public.

With very few alterations, the great limestone chateau looks very much as it did that day in 1898 when Isaac and Mary Fletcher first walked in.

non-credited photographs taken by the author