The 1904 Swiss House -- No. 35 West 67th Street

In 1851 a group of well-to-do Swiss immigrants responded to the needs of their compatriots who were not faring as well.  The Swiss Benevolent Society was incorporated that year.  The group not only relied on the support of its members, but in its annual meeting at Delmonico’s the following year, it was noted that the Swiss Federal Government had donated $283 and $381 more came from 16 of the Cantonal Governments.

By 1883 there were between 12,000 and 15,000 Swiss-born residents in New York City.   On April 3 that year the New-York Tribune reported “to meet the increasing demands upon the society, it has been decided to construct a building for its purposes, to be called The Swiss Home.”

The Society purchased a home at No. 108 Second Avenue which was, according to The New York Times on December 28, 1883 “remodeled and refitted to suit the purposes of the Society.”  The total cost for the house and its remodeling was $28,089.63; about $685,000 in 2015 dollars.  In addition, over the past year the Society had spent $12,029.22 in “relieving the wants of needy Swiss and for medical attendance.”  Clearly the worthy project was not an inexpensive one.

The Swiss Home for Indigent Men and Women was opened “for the inspection of its ‘benefactors’” on the afternoon of December 27, 1883.  The interior of was decorated with flags and flowers for the event; and guests toured “the different departments, the dormitories, the bath-rooms for men and women, the sitting-rooms, and parlors.”

To help finance the Swiss Home, occasional fairs were staged, like the one that opened on November 15, 1886 at Irving Hall.  The New-York Tribune reported “Among the special attractions will be a shooting gallery in charge of the Helvetia Rifle Club with prizes for the best marksmen, Swiss pottery and specialties, thoroughbred Swiss St. Bernard dogs, music by Conterne, and singing.”  The newspaper noted “many of the young ladies will wear the pretty costumes of the different cantons of Switzerland.”

By 1903 the Society looked for a site for a new building.  The search may have been partly prompted by health concerns.  That year alone, more than 10,000 people died in New York City from tuberculosis—a disease commonly linked to crowded conditions and the lack of fresh air and sunlight.  In reporting on the purchase of Nos. 35 and 37 West 67^th Street in 1904 the Annual Report noted “the site is an exceptionally good one and the proximity to central Park, with its green lawns, its rocks and lakes, will remind the future inmates of their mother country.”  But a year later the Report added that the site was “located in the most salubrious,” or health-giving, part of New York City.

The Society announced its intentions to build a five-story home (the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide termed it an “asylum”) in February, 1904.  Within four months an architect had been chosen, Swiss-born John E. Scharsmith, and the projected cost of the new building was set at $55,000.

No longer a household word; Scharsmith’s name was well known at the time.  He not only designed structures, but actively traded in real estate.  On the Upper West Side alone he had been responsible for The Chatworth Apartments and the The Hohenzollern within the past two years, and soon would start work on the eight-story 425 West End Avenue apartment building.

The Swiss Home was completed in December 1905.  Although it was popularly reported that Scharsmith based his design on the Town Hall in Basel, the two structures have basically nothing in common.  The architect produced an attractive Collegiate Gothic building of red brick and limestone that appeared more school than residence.  Neo-Gothic elements like the pointed-arched first floor openings and doorway, the drip moldings within the fourth floor gables and the finishing touch—the decorative finial on the center gable—added to the romantic charm.  Almost hidden from view and nestled within the cornice brackets, were the heraldic shields of the 22 cantons of Switzerland.

Around the time of the building's completion, "studio buildings" were filling the block -- photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult&VBID=24UAYWK31G76&SMLS=1&RW=1097&RH=534

The Swiss Home was dedicated on December 16, 1905.  Among the dignitaries present were the Swiss Consul, J. Bertschmann and the Swiss Minister, Dr. Leo Vogel, who had traveled from Washington DC for the occasion.

Guests toured the facility, finding in the basement a “waiting room, smoking room, repair shop, dining room for transients, kitchen, laundry, storeroom, fumigator, bath and toilet rooms,” according to The Times.  The first floor held semi-public rooms like the inmates’ dining room, a meeting room and small waiting room.  The women’s accommodations were on the second floor—10 bedrooms, a bathroom and sitting room.  Men were housed on the third floor where there were 11 bedrooms.  The top floor had another eight bedrooms “for transients” and a cedar closet.

Tucked beneath the cornice are the carved shields of the Swiss cantons.

There was room for 80 residents—30 permanent and 50 transient.  The Home assured “in case of great pressure accommodations to the extent of twenty additional beds could be procured.”

An example of such “great pressure” came about seven years later when, in April 1912, the RMS Carpathia steamed into New York Harbor carrying the survivors of the RMS Titanic.   Even before the ship arrived, Mrs. Nelson H. Henry was concerned about the impoverished passengers who would have no means to find shelter.

She formed a committee to ensure “that the steerage and second class passengers who need help when they reach New York by the Carpathia shall not be left in want,” reported The Sun on April 18.  Mrs. Henry told reporters “We will see to making definite arrangement for their care and we will try to give them the kind of welcome that they have reason to expect from hospitable America.”

The committee visited benevolent societies across the city.  The Sun reported that “The Swiss Benevolent Home, which has strict rules about taking only immigrants from Switzerland, agreed to take fourteen women and children, no matter what their nationality.”

The problem that the Swiss Benevolent Society soon realized was that the Swiss House was never more than half-filled.  The result was that the care of each person ran about $400 a year.   It was a concern that President Robert J. Schwarzenbach found untenable.  In addition, the Upper West Side location, once so salubrious, was now developed with theaters, apartment houses and saloons.  In 1923 a Mount Kisco, New York estate was purchased and the Swiss House residents transferred there.

The 67^th Street building was converted to the Swiss Home for Self-Supporting Women.  Such female-only hotels were highly popular.  They presented unmarried working women with a safe haven at modest costs.  Strict rules and oversight by female management kept the residents safe from Manhattan’s “wolves.”  Residents paid between $9 and $14 for rent and meals; and while many of the other working women’s hotels had age limits, the Swiss Home did not.

One of the residents in 1925 was Rose Jager, who fell victim to a con artist that year.  Rose was out of a job and she placed a newspaper advertisement for a governess position.  She was picked up at the Home in a high-end automobile and taken to a hotel where she was interviewed by 42-year old George Hamilton.  The potential employer, according to The New York Times on July 23, 1925, had an “impressive appearance, a suave manner and smooth talk.”

Rose was a bit too trusting and needed a job.  What she could not know was that police had been searching for Hamilton for weeks.  By the time he was arrested he had swindled at least 50 out-of-work women out of the little money they still had.

Detectives revealed his methods:  He would answer advertisements of women seeking governess jobs; and then “Hamilton would pose as a wealthy man intending to employ his victim.”  By his smooth talk he would find out how much money the applicant had.

The police explained he would “tell his prospective victim that he intended to deposit a sum of money to her account for expenses of the position, but that, to cover himself, since he had once been swindled by a governess, she would have to give him control of her savings account.”

Rose naively complied and Hamilton drained her account of $650.  The crook had defrauded jobless women of as little as $10 to large amounts like Rose’s.  His scheme was undone when he went to the Jeanne d’Arc Home on West 24^th Street and was recognized by a girl whom he had earlier tried to swindle.

Another resident, stenographer Else A. Sittle, was 25-years old in 1935.  That same year she left the Swiss Home on November 24 for a visit to France and Germany.  Else’s parents lived in Germany and she intended to spend the holidays with them. 

She had another reason for the trip, as well.  Born in Saarland, Germany, she was intent on making her voice heard regarding political changes in her homeland by voting in the plebiscite.  Else did not confine her opinion to the voting booth and her outspoken views on Adolph Hitler were, indeed, heard.

Else A. Sittel was arrested by the Nazis and confined to the prison in Waldmohr “on a charge of making derogatory remarks about Chancellor Hitler and his government.”   After serving her sentence she was released on January 3, 1935 and finally visited her parents before returning to the States on the SS President Roosevelt.  Upon disembarking on January 20 she told reporters “She said she did not think she would visit the Reich again for some time.”

In 1994 the Swiss Benevolent Society put the Swiss Home on the market for $2.95 million.  It was purchased by New York University for its Makor Center for Jewish Life.  The endeavor was short-lived and in 2001 the University donated the building to the 92^nd Street Y.  Six years later title was transferred again, this time to CUNY.  After a significant interior renovation the building became the Macaulty Honors College, complete with modern classrooms, a lecture hall, and performance space used by CUNY students city-wide.

The renovations sympathetically preserved the exterior of Scarsmith’s dignified edifice.  It is unchanged (other than the sad loss of the wonderful decorative gable finial) after more than a century.

photographs by the author

The Chatsworth Apartments --No. 344 W. 72nd St.

photo by Alice Lum

As the 20^th century dawned over Manhattan, the ongoing project of Riverside Park was nearly completed.    The Park, along with Riverside Drive, would stretch from 72^nd to 125^th Streets.   Based on plans by Frederick Law Olmsted, it was essentially a wandering English garden that pretended to be a natural extension of the Hudson River Valley below.  

At the same time, the concept of posh apartment living had become accepted among the upper classes.  With Riverside Drive now rivaling Fifth Avenue as the city’s most fashionable thoroughfare, the undeveloped plot of land at West 72d Street and the Drive was a desirable plum.   Developer George F. Johnson, one of the owners of the Johnson Kahn Company, purchased the lot. 

Johnson would transfer the property to the Johnson Kahn Company on May 14, 1903; but that would be eight months after construction had begun on an apartment building.   Johnson and his partner, Aleck Kahn, had commissioned architect John E. Scharsmith to design a lavish, upscale building that would lure wealthy residents.  Ground was broken on September 23, 1902 and the structure was completed a year later, almost to the day, on September 30 at a staggering cost of $1.1 million.

Large studio-like windows in the mansard roof flooded the conservatory with light.  A deep porte cochere provided shelter to arriving residents and guests -- photo Museum of the City of New York

The Chatsworth Apartments rose 12 stories above a rusticated limestone base.  To ensure sunlight and ventilation, the building broke into two separate blocks above the base.  Here Scharsmith melded red brick and white limestone—resulting in an explosion of Beaux Arts decoration.  A curved two-story mansard capped the structure.    Above the third story cornice chubby cherubs peered down at the arriving guests.   An elaborate copper-and-glass porte cochere sheltered arriving tenants from inclement weather.

Seemingly disinterested cherubs, festooned female-headed brackets and stag heads (a recurring motif) vie for attention -- photo by Alice Lum

Prospective residents would find the interior appointments as impressive as the stately façade.   The World’s New York Apartment House Album noted that the building was “designed for the highest class of tenants.”   The rambling “housekeeping” apartments, three to a floor, ranged from five to fifteen rooms, the largest having four bathrooms.     They included a library, sitting room, dining room, servants’ rooms,  and up-to-date sanitary kitchen.   The magazine Apartment Houses of the Metropolis noted that “The parlors are in white mahogany, the libraries in regular mahogany, and dining rooms in mission oak."

Modern kitchens offered gas ranges with vented exhaust, glass-doored cabinets and plenty of counter space -- photo Museum of the City of New York

The self-sufficient structure had its own lighting and refrigerating plant.  Residents would enjoy a conservatory in the upper floor of the mansard roof “and is furnished as a sun-parlor for the comfort and convenient of the tenants,” said The World’s New York Apartment House Album.   There was also a billiard room, café, barber shop, and tailor and hairdressing services. 

There were 66 apartments in the Chatsworth and prospective tenants could expect to pay between $900 and $5000 per year—about $1,500 to $100,000 per month today.   The high rents did not deter wealthy residents and the building was successful enough that in 1904 Johnson began acquiring the land to the west for an extension.    The following year plans were submitted to the Department of Buildings for a shorter Annex.  John E. Scharsmith was brought back to design the eight-story building with one large apartment per floor.   Construction began on January 5, 1906 and was completed only 10 months later. 

A crown-like cornice tops the less-showy Annex -- photo Museum of the City of New York

The Annex held hands with its big sister by a continuous limestone base.  Other than that, however, the architect made few attempts to blend the structures architecturally.   The new building, costing $150,000, reflected the more restrained French Classical style; yet the carved details of festoons and garlands and the proud projecting cornice created a harmonious pair.   George Johnson moved into the Annex, living here until his death in 1918 at the age of 71.

The Annex was linked to the original building by an impressive entrance -- photo by Alice Lum

The social status of the residents was evident when a two-day estate sale was held by J. Hatfield Morton in October 1906.  The contents of the 14-room apartment included “paintings, a library of four hundred volumes, Oriental rugs, tapestry and silverplate.”  The New-York Tribune noted that “The furniture is said to be of excellent quality and unique in design.  The sale should prove an attractive one.”

An upper cornice is supported by muscular, if armless, telamones -- photo by Alice Lum

While most New Yorkers were still relying on carriages or trolleys to get around the city, tenant George McNair was being driven in an automobile.   On March 16, 1909 it ended in tragedy.  As McNair’s car was traveling along Third Avenue, eight-year old Frederick Aufrecht stepped into the street at the corner of 90^th Street.  The young boy had been running an errand and was struck by the vehicle.  He died in the Presbyterian Hospital early the next morning.  The Tribune reported that “The police say the accident was unavoidable.”

The Chatsworth and its newly-completed Annex in 1908--Apartment Houses of the Metropolis (copyright expired)

Lady Arthur Paget purchased the Chatsworth in 1911, giving in exchange the old Hotel Victoria on 27^th Street between Broadway and Fifth Avenue.  Two years later, in February 1913, Sire Brothers purchased the Chatsworth for $2 million.   The property would be transferred to the 59^th Street Real Estate Company of which Albert E. Sire was president.   Later that year the building would be the scene of thrilling scandal.

Vivian Carmichael was the son of Thomas Carmichael who headed the banking firm of Dent & Palmer in London.  He met Elsie Marie Kenney in 1902 while she was attending the Academy of the Sacred Heart on Madison Avenue.  The boastful Carmichael said he was a descendant of the Earl of Fife and that he would soon inherit estates in England.   He wooed the woman, telling her that if she would marry him he would present her at court during the coronation of King George V.   The couple was married on April 13, 1909.

The New-York Tribune noted “There were reports of fabulous wedding presents mounting up to many thousands of dollars.”   Carmichael invested in a real estate venture selling the “Merrick Estates” on Long Island.  Although the company failed with a $200,000 deficit, the newly-weds continued to live an upscale lifestyle in their Long Island home, “The Manse.”    In the meantime, Carmichael took out $5,000 insurance coverage on the wedding gifts in May 1910 which were “stored high on a shelf in a corner cupboard,” according to a later indictment.

Two months later, on July 18, the couple traveled to New Rochelle to visit friends.   On July 22 Elsie Carmichael sent word to a servant to close The Manse and remove her belongings.  According to the New-York Tribune, “The following day the house burned to the ground.”  Carmichael recovered $4,950 insurance on the wedding gifts alone.  Unfortunately for him, the District Attorney’s office reported that “some of the most costly gifts were subsequently found in pawnshops on the West Side.”

And that is when the Chatsworth Apartments came into the picture.

Detective Russo of the District Attorney Whitman’s office began a search for Vivian Carmichael with an indictment charging him with filing a false claim for $5,000 of lost property.   In July 1913 he tracked the couple to the Chatsworth where they were visiting friends.  He sent his personal card up on July 5 with a note that he wanted to see Mr. Carmichael “on personal business.”  A servant responded that Mr. Carmichael could not be disturbed.

The detective walked around the block a few times, then made his way up to the apartment and rang the bell.  When the door was opened he stepped inside before he could be stopped.   Mrs. Carmichael offered to show Russo around and, when he stepped into a bedroom, she slammed the door shut and locked him in.  “The dectective, realizing that he was a prisoner, raised his voice, and informed the women that the house was surrounded by detectives and that it would be silly for Carmichael to attempt to escape,” reported The Tribune.

It was not the sort of activity one came to expect in the decorous Chatsworth flats.

Russo threatened to smash out the panels of the door and just as he was prepared to do damage, the door was opened.  Through it all Carmichael remained in bed in an adjoining room.  In the end the briefly-imprisoned detective escorted Carmichael, whom The New-York Tribune said “has been a wanderer since he was fifteen years old,” to the Criminal Courts Building.

Life in the Chatsworth returned to normal and the kidnapping of detectives seems to have been contained to the isolated incident.  Socialites had no need to use their street address, the name of the building was sufficient.  On April 11, 1915 the society pages noted that “Mrs. E. H. Noyes and Miss Noyes are informally at home on Sunday afternoons in their apartments in the Chatsworth.”   The upscale reputation of the building led The New York Sun to call the Chatsworth “among the finest apartment buildings on the entire West Side.”

photo by Alice Lum

By 1921 many of the apartments had been divided into smaller units.  An advertisement that year offered “apartments three to nine rooms renting from $2,000 to $5,000.” 

A more concerning development than smaller apartments came in 1992 when Donald Trump laid plans for his Riverside South.  The $3 billion project would transform the derelict freight rail yards of the New York Central Railroad into 16 apartment buildings of 5,700 total residential units.  And it would effectively block the river views from about 90 of the Chatsworth’s windows above the Drive.

The English-sounding name Chatsworth and heraldic decoration added a sense of old nobility -- photo by Alice Lum

 Despite the modern apartment building that now shoulders up to the grand dame’s westerly face, the Chatsworth and its Annex remain wonderful reminders of a time when apartment dwellers had libraries and sitting rooms and announced in the newspapers that they were “informally at home.”


Current information on the building and interior views can be found at http://thechatsworth.com/