Carrère & Hastings's Masterful 1911 New York Public Library -- 476 Fifth Avenue

 

photograph by Vallue

A one-sentence article in The New York Times on March 21, 1895 reported that the bill in the Assembly "consolidating the Lenox, Tilden, and Astor Libraries, in New-York City, was passed."  The merger would would create a library of 350,000 items.

Two years later, on August 2, 1897, the trustees published, "Terms of Competition for the Building to be Erected for The New York Public Library."  The lengthy and detailed pamphlet noted, "the building is to stand on the site of the present reservoir, at the east end of Bryant Park."  It said, "The building is to be built for $1,700,000," excluding the furniture, bookstacks, lighting, and such, and stressed, "It is essential that this amount shall not be exceeded."  

Of the eighty-eight plans that were submitted, three architects were selected to refine their designs.  The competing firms selected a three-man jury of architects to select the winning design.  On November 13, 1897, the Record & Guide reported, "The jury of awards in the final competition has selected the plans submitted by Carrere & Hastings...for the projected building of the New York Public Library."  A month later, on December 18, the journal described the commission as "a personal triumph of the first magnitude for the successful architects."

Carrère & Hastings's winning design.  Real Estate Record & Guide, December 18, 1897 (copyright expired)

Before work could begin, there was the matter of the massive granite Croton Reservoir to deal with.  Its demolition was a herculean feat that began in 1897 and continued for three years.  As the colossal walls were dismantled, the granite was salvaged for other projects.  In his July 1, 1898 report, library president John Bigelow mentioned, "the materials composing the reservoir or some part thereof [will be used in] the erection and construction of the new building."  (Granite blocks used for the foundation of the new edifice can be seen in lower levels of the current structure today.)

Finally, in 1900, work on the foundations of the new building began.  The Record & Guide predicted that the city, "is assured of a dignified and notable public building of a very much higher standard than anything municipal effort has yet given to us."  The article said, "The style of the architecture is Renaissance; it is based upon classical principals, but modern in feeling."  While the style is described as Beaux Arts today, at the time, Carrère called it a blend of French and Italian Renaissance styles.  The result was a dignified, monumental presence, enhanced by the block-wide terrace and sweeping staircase.

The exterior plans included sculptural elements.  On either side of the triple-arched entrance would be tiered fountains.  Atop each, within an arched alcove, marble statues of Truth and Beauty, executed by Frederick MacMonnies, would be placed.  Guarding the stairs to the terrace would be two regal lion figures by Edward Clark Potter. 

On November 10, 1902, the cornerstone was laid.  Five years after the first shovel broke ground, on October 1, 1905, The New York Times addressed slow pace of construction.  "Perhaps it is as well that great public buildings of this kind, intended to remain as monuments of an age for all times, should be erected with the upmost care and deliberation."  John M. Carrère, was more direct, explaining the "glacial rate of progress" in The New York Times on June 10, 1906: municipal red tape.  If there were proposed changes, he said, they had to be approved by the Library trustees and four city departments.  The process could take months.  (At the time, said The Times, the cost--originally capped at $1.7 million--had risen to $3 million.

A nagging detail was the three inscriptions to be inscribed on the plaques between Paul Wayland's allegorical sculptures above the main entrance cornice.  A squabble arose between the Mayor's office and the trustees about, "what inscriptions shall appear above the Fifth avenue entrance to the new Public Library Building," according to the New-York Tribune on April 8, 1906.  It was one more thing to annoy John M. Carrère, who snapped, "You must understand that this scheme of inscription on the front of the building was designed and fully worked out seven years ago...Something has got to go in those panels and something has got to go in the frieze."

On January 23, 1916, the New-York Tribune published the models of Paul Wayland's allegorical sculptures installed above the Fifth Avenue entrance cornice.  (copyright expired)

In the meantime, the construction costs grew.  On May 2, 1910, The New York Times began an article saying, "New York's $10,000,000 Public Library at Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street is really growing to its completion, and ought to be ready for use early next year, if not sooner.  But so many delays have already hindered the growth of the building that it is hazarding to offer any definite forecast."

A cross-section allowed readers to see the several floors beneath the street level for the book stacks.  Scientific American, May 27, 1911 (copyright expired)

Sadly, the many delays resulted in John Merven Carrère's never seeing his masterpiece completed.  The architect died in an automobile accident on March 1, 1911.  Immediately prior to his funeral at Trinity Chapel on March 3, his body, "will lie in state, in the New York Public Library, at Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street, of which building he was one of the designers," as reported by The New York Times.

Carrère's casket sat in the marble Rotunda prior to his funeral.  Construction magazine, April 1911 (copyright expired)

The space today.  photograph by Carlos Delgado

Two months later, on May 23, 1911, President William Howard Taft traveled from Washington to participate in the dedication.  Perhaps because of the President's presence, the ceremony was held in the third floor boardroom and only 500 invited persons were admitted.  Taft opened his remarks saying, "This day crowns a work of National importance."

Among the invited guests that day was Taylor St. Paul, whose most lasting impression was a grammatical error he found in an inscription in the entrance hall: "Upon the diffusion of education among the people rest the preservation and perpetuation of our institutions."  He wrote to The New York Times on May 27, 1911, to point out the correct word would be "rests."  He ended his letter saying, "Possibly W. J. Lampton wrote it.  I enjoyed the library."  An unnamed trustee replied succinctly to the editor of The Times two days later, "The author of the inscription in the rotunda of the Public Library, which Mr. Taylor St. Paul criticises...was Daniel Webster."

Carrère & Hastings had created a world-class masterpiece, the largest marble building in the country.  In its June 1911 issue, Construction said the New York Public Library, "without question is one of the most remarkable examples in the United States of the typical American aspiration in architecture."  James A. Edgerton, writing in The Daily Tribune of Marysville, Missouri on June 19, 1911 called it, "one of the most beautiful edifices in America."  Edgerton gave a back-handed slap to New York City, saying, "In a city architecturally hideous...the New York Public Library building shines like an oasis in a desert or a temple in a wilderness."

In this early postcard view, none of the sculptural elements, including the lions, had been installed.

The interiors of the Dorset marble structure were as palatial as the exterior.  Visitors entered a marble-lined grand entrance hall, or rotunda.  In the 1897 "Terms of Competition," the trustees said, "ample opportunity will exist for architectural and decorative effect; but it is desired that the Reading Rooms at least should be plainly treated."  Like the budget, that caveat went out the window.  The Main Reading Room, known as the Rose Reading Room today, was reportedly the largest reading room in the world.  It was divided into two spaces by a wooden screen.  The room rose to a magnificent, coffered ceiling with paintings of cloud-filled skies.

The Main Reading Room (today the Rose Reading Room) in 1911.  Construction magazine, April 1911 (copyright expired)

...And today.  photograph by Max Touhey from the collection of the New York Public Library

Other spaces included additional, smaller reading rooms (like the Periodical Reading Room), the Map Division, the Exhibition Room, and the Bible Room--each as sumptuously outfitted as the last.

A portion of the Map Division ceiling.  photograph by Bestbudbrian

Three "important exhibitions" were immediately staged in the new building.  On June 1, 1911, The New York Times reported that the crush of people who crowded in just to see the building made getting to the exhibitions difficult.  The article said, "it is estimated that a quarter of a million persons inspected the building in the first week."

The Trustees' Room (top) and the Exhibition Room.  Construction magazine, April 1911 (copyright expired)

Interestingly, after Thomas Hastings's death in October 1929, it was discovered that he had never been satisfied with the facade of the New York Public Library building.  He left a substantial bequest to the library, explained by The New York Times on November 7, 1929.  "He had drawn up plans for alterations in the facade and expressed the hope in his will that the $100,000 would be used for this purpose."  The plans never went forward.

The Periodical Reading Room as it appeared in 1911.  Construction magazine, April 1911 (copyright expired)

...and today.  photograph by Bestbuddybrian.

The second half of the 20th century did not treat the library building kindly.  During World War II, the panes of the 15 arched windows of the Main Reading Room were painted black; in 1950, the rear of the main hall was partitioned off to create a bursar's office; and the main exhibition room was converted to an accounting office.  According to the Press & Sun-Bulletin of Binghamton, New York, decades of grime eventually obliterated the ceiling paintings in the Main Reading Room.  Rita Reif, writing in The New York Times reported, "Over time, entire tiers of bulbs in the chandeliers short-circuited and lighting fixtures on the book stands and reference shelves burned out, never to be repaired or replaced."  As "garish yellow chairs multiplied" in the space, she said, "the room became dowdy."

In December 1981, the D. S. and R. H. Gottesman Foundation provided $1.25 million for the restoration of the Main Reading Room.  Designed by Davis Brody and Cavaglieri, it reopened the following year.  (It received a second, $12 million restoration in 2014.)  The Periodical Room was restored in 1983 and the Exhibition Hall the following year.

photograph by C. S. Imming.

In designating the New York Public Library building an individual New York City landmark on January 11, 1967, the Landmarks Preservation Commission called it, "a masterpiece of the Beaux-Arts style of architecture" and "a magnificent civic monument."

The Lost Mail and Express Building - 203 Broadway

The Mail and Express Building towered over the corner buildings.  Real Estate Record & Guide, June 25, 1898 (copyright expired)

The Real Estate Record & Guide reported on February 15, 1890 that Carrère & Hastings was designing an L-shaped, eight-story office building at 203 Broadway and 164-168 Fulton Street.  The owner was millionaire banker and attorney Elliott Fitch Shepard whose wife, Margaret Louisa Vanderbilt, was the daughter of multi-millionaire William Henry Vanderbilt.  The article noted, "The publication and business offices of the Mail and Express will be on the lower floor...The site will be cleared for the new building in May next."

The Mail and Express was founded in 1867 as the New York Evening Mail.   Owner Cyrus West Field acquired the New York Evening Express in 1879, renaming the newspaper the Mail and Express.  Elliott F. Shepard purchased it from Field in 1888 for $425,000 (equal to about $14 million in 2024).

 

For the newspaper's headquarters, Carrère & Hastings used an iron skeleton, allowing the outer walls to be only 16-inches thick.  By the time ground was broken, the height had changed to nine stories.  As the foundation was being excavated, the architectural critic of Harper's Weekly commented on the plans in the October 11, 1890 issue.  Interestingly, he noted that the Broadway facade was "planned largely in accordance with the suggestions of Colonel Shepard, and will have some features peculiar to itself."  One of the "peculiar" features was the inclusion of Shepard's monogram.

On one side of the large circular window in the second story is the legend "A.D. 1890," and on the other side the letters "E.F.S."  Across the front, on one cornice, are carved "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity," and "E. Pluribus Unum," and in the cornice of the other stories are worked the coats of arms of the States of the Union.

The critic called the architecture, "of the Italian Renaissance style."  And while the Fulton Street elevation was, for the most part, Renaissance Revival, the Broadway front was what today would be termed Beaux Arts.

Unfortunately, the Broadway cable railway was being excavated at the same time.  On July 4, 1891, Architecture and Building wrote, "Probably but few of our citizens are not seriously incommoded by the tearing up of Broadway...Still we cannot but sympathize with Architect John M. Carrère, who has found the work on the new Mail and Express building seriously impeded from the fact that the contractors now at work on the cable railroad or other works have torn up the street and built plank bridges, which are hardly strong enough to carry any heavy traffic, so that when a truck with material drives up it is unsafe for this truck to pass over or to stand on this bridge in order to have this material delivered." 

Despite the setbacks, the building was completed in 1892.  Barr Ferree, writing in Stone magazine, said Thomas Hastings was the lead architect.  He attributed the stark difference in the appearance of the two facades to the demands of Elliot F. Shepard.  The "richness" of the Broadway elevation, he explained, "was demanded by the gentlemen for whom the building was erected, and his architects, therefore, had no other choice than to follow his directions."

The two disparate facades annoyed the critic of The Engineering Magazine.  In June 1896, he wrote that the criticism of the building "has been based on the highly-enriched and narrow Broadway front."  On the other hand, he said, "the larger front on Fulton street is conceded to be one of the most notable successes in commercial architecture."

The Beaux Arts Broadway facade was contrasted with the more sedate Fulton Street side in Harper's Weekly on October 11, 1890 (copyright expired)

The up-to-the-date building was equipped with its own "electric and steam plant" in the cellar, and was supplied with Croton water.  Of the four elevators in the building, one was dedicated to Mail and Express employees.  The hallways throughout the building were wainscoted with marble.

The newspaper would occupy the first floor "and will be elegantly fitted up," said Harper's Weekly.  Included was a "commodious waiting-room for newsboys" outfitted with a drinking fountain.  Facing Broadway on the second floor were the private offices of Elliot Shepard.  

The eighth and ninth floors held the newspaper's editorial, composing and stereotyping departments, and the individual editors' offices.  The reporters and editors worked from the eighth floor, where a dedicated room held "all the bells, speaking-tubes, telephones, and the like."  There was also a library on that floor.  The composing room took up most of the top floor, partially illuminated by vast skylights.  "On the very top of the Broadway wing, where its odors cannot interfere with any one's olfactory sensibilities, is to be a kitchen, and under it, on the ninth floor, a restaurant, especially for the employés of the paper."  Elliot Shepard's private dining room was also on that floor.

Harper's Weekly pointed out a singular detail:

One of the noteworthy features of the building is to be the photograph-room, situated alongside the kitchen, at the very top of the building.  Here distinguished visitors may be captured by the camera, and their likenesses printed in the paper while they wait.

Although the building would fill, mostly, with attorneys and brokers, one of the first was unique.  The Bureau of Subscription for the World's Columbian Exposition operated from Room 304 in 1892.  On November 26, an advertisement in The New York Times announced that New Yorkers could obtain a "World's Fair Souvenir Coin For A Dollar" here.

French sculptor Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi visited New York City in 1893.  The height of the skyscraper created the perfect vantage point to view his Liberty Enlightening the World, commonly known as the Statue of Liberty.  On September 5, the New-York Tribune wrote, "M. Bartholdi took his first view of the statue yesterday from the top of 'The Mall and Express' building.  He was greatly pleased with the view of the bay and the position of honor and prominence which the Statue of Liberty occupies."

In 1894, the Ottoman Empire began a sweeping massacre of Armenians.  Regardless of age or sex, thousands of innocents were brutally butchered.  Before tapering off in 1897, an estimated 300,000 Armenians were slaughtered in what would be known as the Hamidian massacres.  New Yorkers responded and in 1895 the offices of the Armenian Relief Association opened here.  On the night of November 21, what The Sun said would be "one of the largest gatherings held in this country for protest against the Turkish atrocities" was held in Chickering Hall.  In reporting on the meeting, the newspaper said, "the names of well-known business men and clergymen who have taken up the cause of Armenia are pouring into the office of the association in the Mall and Express building."

Two months later, the association issued a bulletin "with the hope of arousing American sympathy," according to The New York Times on January 17, 1896.  It included a desperate cable from London from a missionary that said:

Armenia is at her last gasp.  The work of extermination continues.  The number of people massacred reaches 100,000, and half a million survivors have taken refuge in the forests and mountains, where they are feeding on herbs and roots.  Hunger and cold have begun to make great ravages among them.  In the name of humanity and Christianity, save us!

The Excise Board was faced with a puzzling predicament in March 1896.  Because the top floor restaurant served alcohol, it fell into the category of a saloon.  By law, no saloon could operate within 200 feet of a house of worship.  Directly across Fulton Street was St. Paul's Chapel.  On March 1, The Journal explained, "The question is raised as to how the 200-foot limit shall be measured...Shall the measurement be made as the snail crawls or as the swallow flies?"  It appears that the serving of wine with lunch was allowed to continue.

Both elevations can be seen in this 1902 photograph by Irving Underhill.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Elliot Fitch Shepard died on March 24, 1893.  The Mail and Express Building was inherited by his wife.  And so, when Susan Brady fell into the sidewalk coal hole on December 12, 1896, she sued Margaret Louisa Vanderbilt Shepard personally for $20,000 damages.  The weighty amount would translate to about $758,000 today.  It is unclear how the case was settled.

The "fireproof" quality of the building was first tested on January 23, 1901.  At 4:00 in the morning, John Hunt, a watchman, discovered fire on the ground floor.  He and the building's engineer went to the seventh floor, where the family of janitor James Draper lived.  The Evening World reported, "Mrs. Draper and her three children were seized with panic, but the janitor ordered them back to bed."

"'This is a fire-proof building,' he said, 'The fire will not burn beyond one floor.'"

As it turned out, Draper was correct.  The New-York Tribune reported, "The flames are said to have originated in the fileroom of 'The Mail and Express.'"  The burning paper created dense smoke that caused firefighters "great difficulty in getting at the fire."  

James Draper had an opinion as to the cause, telling reporters, "the building is infested with rats, which may have caused the fire by gnawing matches."  The fire was extinguished after doing only about $1,500 in damage.

The fireproof qualities would be put to the test again three years later.  On December 11, 1904, a phone call from Police Headquarters notified the New York City News Association on the second floor that the fire department was on the way.  That the building was on fire was news to the person who answered the phone.  It had broken out in the seventh-floor offices of advertising agent J. M. Pearsall.  The New York Times reported, "The firemen kept the flames right there and the big water tower out in Broadway didn't have to lend a hand."  The article added, A dozen compositors who were at work in the offices of The Evening Mall scurried out to the street when the engines arrived.  They soon went back again, however."

On February 5, 1916, the Record & Guide reported that the American Telephone & Telegraph Company had purchased the Mail and Express Building from the Shepard Estate.  The journal said acquisition was to "protect the light and air of the new twenty-eight-story" Western Union building the buyers had just completed.  The Evening Post was not so sure.  On the same day, the newspaper opined, "as the telegraph and telephone business is growing in leaps and bounds, the acquisition was doubtless made primarily to provide room for extending the recently completed skyscraper."

Indeed, the Mail and Express Building was soon razed for an seamless extension of the Western Union Building, designed by William W. Bosworth.

The corner addition on the site of the Mail and Express Building, completed in 1922, it nearly seamless.  photo by Jim Henderson

The Lost Elihu Root Mansion -- 733 Park Avenue

 

The New York Architect, August 1907 (copyright expired)

Born on February 15, 1845, Elihu Root was a pioneer in the practice of international law.  He married Clara Frances Wales in 1878, and the couple had three children, Edith, Elihu Jr., and Edward Wales.  The family's summer home was in Clinton, New York.

A 1907 postcard depicted the Root summer home.

Elihu Root was appointed U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York in 1883.  Then, in July 1899, he was made Secretary of War by President William McKinley.  Root resigned his cabinet position on February 1, 1904 to return to New York and his private law practice.  It appears that Root had considered his resignation for some time.  A year earlier, on May 9, 1903, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide had announced that Carrere & Hastings was designing "the new dwelling which Secretary of War Elihu Root will erect at the southeast corner of Park av. and 71st st."  The article noted that Root had paid $100,000 for the land and that the "dwelling will cost in the neighborhood of $150,000."  The combined costs placed Root's outlay at over $8.5 million in 2024 terms.

Elihu and Clara Frances Root, from the collection of the Library of Congress.

On June 25, 1904, a year into construction, the Record & Guide reported that the mansion "has reached the 5th story floor level."  The article said, "The design, by Carrere & Hastings...is almost devoid of ornamentation, the structure depending upon its proportions, simplicity of line, and the rich color of its Harvard brick exterior, for its effectiveness."  The journalist added, "The house is to have a richly carved marble staircase with ornamental balustrades."

Construction was completed in 1905.  Carrere & Hastings's reserved, neo-Regency style design recalled the townhouses of the London gentry a century earlier.  The entrance sat within a shallow limestone portico crowned by a broken pediment.  Faux balconies fronted the second story windows, the limestone frames of which terminated in panels carved with classical urns.  The fifth floor sat discretely behind a balustrade above the terminal cornice.

Visitors were no doubt awed when they entered the spacious "foyer hall" wits its sweeping marble staircase.  The New York Architect, August 1907 (copyright expired)

If the Roots moved into their new home at all, it was for a very short period.  On July 19, 1905, President Theodore Roosevelt appointed Elihu Root Secretary of State, and, once again, he and Clara relocated to Washington.  

Indoor & Out, March 6, 1906 (copyright expired)

In their absence, the Roots rented the mansion to Paul and Charlotte Morton.  The two couples were assuredly well acquainted, Morton's position as Secretary of the Navy having just ended on June 30, 1905.  (The end of his one-year term was uncomfortable, at best.  He was forced to resign when it was revealed that the Santa Fe Railroad, of which he was vice president, was given illegal rebates under him.  President Theodore Roosevelt supported Morton, insisting that the millionaire never knew of the improprieties.) 

Morton was now president of the Equitable Life Assurance Society.  He and his wife, the former Charlotte Goodrich, had two daughters, Charlotte and Pauline.  Charlotte was an ardent “anti” during the early Suffragist Movement, allying herself with socialites against women’s rights to vote.  She was Honorary Vice-President of the National League for Civic Education; an organization that strove to snuff out the Suffragist Movement.

Indoors & Out, March 6, 1906 (copyright expired)

The Mortons had impressive, if unexpected, houseguests on January 15, 1906.  The New York Times reported that former President Grover Cleveland and his wife arrived in town that day, and that "Paul Morton...got lodgings for Mr. Cleveland on Monday evening" at the Hotel Buckingham on Fifth Avenue.  Cleveland first attended a luncheon at the Lawyer's Club, then went to the hotel.  Astonishingly, given that Cleveland was a former United States President, he was not accommodated.

Indoor & Out, March 6, 1906 (copyright expired)

"'I am very sorry, but there really isn't a room in the house,' he was told," said The New York Times.  "Mr. Cleveland seemed disappointed as he walked away."  And so the Clevelands turned to the man who had been entrusted in securing their lodging.  "After failing to get rooms at the Buckingham, he went to Mr. Morton's house, at 733 Park Avenue.  Mrs. Cleveland joined him during the day, and they spent last night there," said the article.

Paul and Charlotte Morton, New-York Tribune, August 20, 1905 (copyright expired)

The Roots and Mortons apparently had an understanding that the former could use their home when necessary.  On January 25, 1907, the New-York Tribune reported, "Secretary Elihu Root of the State Department and Mrs. Root arrived in the city at 9 o'clock last night on the Montreal express...They went at once to their town house, No. 733 Park avenue, and will leave here this morning for Washington."

The library.  Indoors & Out, March 6, 1906 (copyright expired)

The next day, The Sun reported that among the "notable weddings" to take place the following month would be that of Pauline Morton to J. Hopkins Smith, Jr.  "Mr. and Mrs. Paul Morton, the bride's parents, are living in the fine new establishment of Elihu Root, 733 Park avenue, which will be the scene of the big reception."

The wedding took place in St. Thomas's Church on February 2, after which a who's who of society filed into the Park Avenue mansion.  Included among those invited were not only the expected society names like Astor, Cutting, Atterbury, Alexander and, of course, the Roots, but also President  Theodore Roosevelt and the First Lady.  

Elihu Root's term as Secretary of State ended in 1909.  But he would not be returning to Park Avenue.  On March 4 that year he began service as United State Senator.  Never having truly occupied the sumptuous house they had erected, Elihu and Clara Root sold it in November 1910 to Carll Tucker for $350,000 (about $11 million in today's money).   The Mortons moved to 844 Fifth Avenue, next door to the John Jacob Astor mansion. 

Tucker's wife was the former Marcia Myers Brady.  The couple had two children, one-year-old Luther and four-month old Nicholas Brady.  Three more children would be born in the house, Marcia Anne, in 1914; Ruth Burnett in 1917; and Carll Jr. in 1921.

An early photograph of Carll Tucker (original source unknown)

As with all monied families, the Tuckers filled 733 Park Avenue with impressive art.  Included in their collection were paintings by modern artists like Edward Hopper.

The Tuckers' elevated lifestyle was reflected in The New York Times reporting on the New York Horse Show on November 7, 1915.  One of the last gasps of the summer social season, like Ascot in Britain, it was where socialites displayed their finery.  And six-year-old Luther was already being groomed.  The article said,

The children of society were there in numbers, and they marched around the promenade in twos and threes, in dainty and modish costumes, just like their mammas, while the less fortunate children looked down upon the scene with wondering eyes.  Some of the children hugged the silver cups they had won, all afternoon, particularly little Luther Tucker of 733 Park Avenue, who was with his sisters and a governess.

On May 14, 1920, The Sun reported that the Tuckers had purchased "the handsome house of Edmund Butler known as Sengahurst, and thirty-seven acres of land surrounding."  The family renamed their new summer estate in Mount Kisco "Penwood."

A postcard depicted Sengahurst, which the Tuckers renamed Penwood.

Like almost all extremely wealthy families, the Great Depression did not noticeably affect the Tuckers' lifestyle.  In 1929, Carll commissioned the Migrant, a steel-hulled, 800-ton three-masted auxiliary schooner, called by The New York Times, "one of the largest of its kind built in the United States."  And Marcia continued her routine of entertaining and charitable works.  On February 18, 1933, for instance, The Evening Post reported on the sewing classes of the Fresh Air Association of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine.  "On March 14," said the article, "the group will meet with Mrs. Caril [sic] Tucker at her home."

A disturbing incident occurred on May 23, 1933.  Marcia traveled to Penwood with a maid, Bertha Hubert, who had been hired a month earlier.  As the automobile neared the estate, Marcia, Bertha and the chauffeur, Robert E. Yaeger (he was one of three chauffeurs employed by the family), heard a noise and noticed a shimmying of the vehicle.  Later that same day, Marcia asked Robert to take Bertha and another servant, Nellie Fisher, back to the Park Avenue house.  He mentioned to Carll Tucker that he suspected "there was something wrong with the front tire and the steering," according Bertha later.  She said that Tucker replied, "Never mind, that is a new tire."

The library at Penwood.  Architectural Forum, Volume XLII, 1925 (copyright expired)

On the way to New York City, Bertha testified, "I heard a crack like a blow-out" after which the car crashed and rolled over twice.  All three occupants of the automobile were hospitalized and all three sued their employer.  (Robert Yaeger later dropped his suit.)  A jury awarded $4,000 to Bertha Hubert and $2,000 to Nellie Fisher ($84,500 and $42,000, respectively, in today's money).

photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the New York Public Library

The Tuckers were at Penwood on July 30, 1956 when Carll died of a coronary thrombosis at the age of 74.  Calling him a "clubman," since he had no real profession, in reporting his death The New York Times mentioned, "Mr. and Mrs. Tucker entertained frequently at their New York home, the former Elihu Root mansion, 733 Park Avenue...and on their extensive Mount Kisco estate."

Marcia Tucker sold 733 Park Avenue to Alex Muss in 1969.  The following year, on October 11, 1970, The New York Times began an article saying, "Ground has been broken for a $10-million cooperative apartment house on Park Avenue in which the least expensive unit...is being offered at $270,000."  Muss had demolished the former Root mansion to erect the 28-floor building designed by Kahn & Jacobs with Harry F. Green.  The building is known as 733 Park Avenue.

no permission to reuse the content of this blog has been granted to LaptrinhX.com

The Mutilated Black, Starr & Frost Building - 594 Fifth Avenue

 

Architecture, December 1912 (copyright expired)

The jewelry firm of Black, Starr & Frost traced its origins to 1810 when the silversmith Isaac Marquand opened Marquand & Co.  By the first years of the 20th century, it was among the foremost silver and jewelry firms in the country, holding its own against jewelers like Tiffany & Co.  (Upon the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, Mary Todd Lincoln owed the firm $64,000, more than one million in 2023 dollars.)

Charles T. Cook was president of Tiffany & Co. for many years and lived in a sumptuous mansion at the southwest corner of Fifth Avenue and 48th Street.   When he died in 1902, commerce was inching into the Midtown mansion district.  On July 9, 1909, The New York Times reported that Black, Starr & Frost, "intends building quarters for itself on the site of the old Cook home and the adjoining property at 4 West Forty-eighth Street, belonging to Mrs. Landsale Boardman, which was included in the purchase recorded yesterday."

A year later--almost to the day--on July 10, 1910 the newspaper published a rendering of the proposed building, saying, "The new building has been designed by Carrere & Hastings.  In style it will be Italian renaissance, and will be an artistic addition along somewhat exceptional lines in the business development of the avenue."  The article noted, "The exterior will be entirely of white marble, and the interior handsomely finished and decorated."

The property had cost Black, Starr & Frost $700,000 and the building costs were projected at $250,000, bringing the total outlay in 2023 terms to $28 million.  

Carrere & Hastings released this rendering (that included both motorcars and carriages) to the press.  It would be doubled in width before construction began.  The New York Times, July 10, 1910 (copyright expired)

The double-height ground floor of Carrere & Hastings's white marble palazzo had two entrances.  Customers entering on Fifth Avenue passed through a bronze-framed doorway.  A glass-and-bronze marquee extended from the carriage entrance on 48th Street to the curb, protecting patrons from the weather as they alit from their vehicles.

The three-story mid-section included a rusticated second floor, girded by marble balustrades.  Double-height Corinthian pilasters separated the openings of the third and fourth floors.  The top story was intricately decorated with Renaissance carvings.

The several floors were necessary for the wide variety of goods sold.  As Black, Starr & Frost prepared to open in their new building in December 1912, it advertised "valuable bronzes" including "beautiful modelled figures, groups, electroliers, clocks, clock sets, mantel garnitures in porcelain," and "a collection of Louis XV and XVI, Adams, Renaissance, Empire, Hepplewhite, Sheraton, Colonial and Florentine furniture."  There were also "rare porcelains, miniature portraits, fine etchings," along with, of course, the expected jewelry and silver items.

The high-quality of Black, Starr & Frost's jewelry and silver was evidenced in 1917 when stage star Peggy Hopkins Joyce walked out with a 127-carat diamond necklace.  Joyce was well known for her flamboyant lifestyle and her collection of wealthy men and diamonds.  She would be the inspiration for the character Lorelie Lee in the 1925 novel Gentleman Prefer Blonds and the topic of Constance Rosenblum's book Gold Digger.  Mary Margaret Mcbride brought up Joyce's purchase in her 1931 book, New York Is Everybody's Town, saying she "paid $300,000 for the huge, square thing, hung on a flexible diamond neckline which fitted into the hollow of Peggy's white expensive throat."  The price would translate to more than $4 million today.

Less colorful but equally moneyed was Mrs. Clarence C. Chapman.  Thieves broke into the Chapmans' rooms at the Sleepy Hollow Country Club on October 13, 1920.  Among the items they made off with was Mrs. Chapman's $75,000 diamond necklace from Black, Starr & Frost.

Architecture, December 12, 1912 (copyright expired)

Two years before the heist, in June 1918, Black, Starr & Frost sold their building to the Oceanic Inventing Company.  But the firm was not going anywhere.  The Real Estate Record & Guide noted, "The new owners have leased the property back to the jewelers for a period of twenty-one years."  In reporting on the transaction, the journal said the building "is classed among the finest pieces of commercial architecture in the country," adding, "Black, Starr & Frost are probably the oldest jewelry concern in this country."

A trusted employee in the 1920s was W. Sherman Lees, Jr.  In 1928, according to The Daily Argus, "The man had been a salesman at the Fifth avenue store for years.  He received $125 week in salary and he earned it by showing the customers the gems that lay in glittering ranks on the black velvet of the shelves in the firm's safe."  Lees was an expert in his field.  The article said, "He knew [the gems'] histories, their merits, their secret faults...He could point out to customers just why one stone with a saucy ice-blue glint was better than another, twice as big, but not so exquisite in shade and cutting."

In the spring of 1928 Lees decided that his $6,500 a year salary (around $103,000 in 2023) was insufficient.  He spirited a ring from the safe, removed the diamond, and sold it.  The Daily Argus said, "Then he did it again."  And again.  On May 7 the 38-year-old was arrested in the store.  His downfall came when he took a $12,000 stone to a nearby jeweler.  Suspicious, the man "put him off and made inquiries." 

In May 1929 Black, Starr & Frost merged with silversmiths Gorham Corporation.  The consolidated companies were renamed Black, Starr, Frost-Gorham.  (Although customers, somewhat expectedly, continued using the old name.)

The firm encountered an especially clever thief on November 21, 1929.  Dick Richards, alias Cornelius J. Donovan, entered the store and identified himself as a personal representative of Governor Franklin D. Roosevelt.  He told salesman James C. Patterson that the governor "wanted two diamond rings sent to his town house at 49 East Sixty-fifth street from which to select one," according to The New York Sun.  Before leaving,  Richards took Patterson's card.

Two rings valued at $1,500 were delivered to Edward Gibbons, Roosevelt's first butler.  Later that day, Richards arrived at the Roosevelt home, identified himself as James C. Patterson and presented his business card.  He apologized that the wrong rings had been delivered and took them back to be replaced.  He promptly pawned the jewelry for $475.  

Not everything at Black, Starr & Frost was prohibitively expensive.  Mary Margaret Mcbride wrote in 1931:

Here may be bought gifts as low as $1.35 for a silver teaspoon, and $2 for a silver pencil.  Possibilities on the $3 to $21 list include silver and stone ash trays, rose quartz push buttons (suitable for a big magnate's office desk); silver and enamel vanity cases, silver and enamel place card holders, stamp boxes, calendars, leather picture frames, novelty note books, cigarette lighters, gold key chains ($9); gold and enamel sport scarf pins ($8); folding backgammon sets for $25.

When the young Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip visited New York City in October 1957, New Yorkers crowded Fifth Avenue to catch a glimpse of the royals.  On October 26, the Record-Journal wrote, "The shops along the avenue were decorated with huge Stars and Stripes and the British Union Jack.  At Black, Starr and Frosts, one window exhibited a very beautiful oil portrait of the Queen.  This was draped in antique blue silk decorated with silver rose branches and leaves."

photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

On March 23, 1962, The New York Times lamented, "the sale of Black, Starr & Gorham, Inc., will mark the end of an era for the Gorham Corporation in the retail end of the silver and jewelry business."  Two weeks later the newspaper reported that the firm was "expected to vacate the building about July."  Black, Starr & Gorham had sold the its marble retail palace to the Trade Bank and Trust Company.  "The bank will use the building for its office," said the article.  It promised, "The interior will be renovated, but the exterior will remain unchanged."

But four years later, things had changed.  A scathing editorial in The New York Times on January 27, 1964 began, "It could never happen in Paris.  Remodeling of venerable buildings on a major Paris avenue must go on behind the facade, by law, to preserve the city's character and beauty.  And this is one of the things that make Paris Paris.  But it does happen in New York."  The irate editor went on to say:

One of the handsomest facades on Fifth Avenue, and in fact one of the most exquisite small business buildings in the city, is being given the standard New York 'improvement' treatment: its finely detailed, elegantly proportioned exterior is being destroyed and the building will be refaced with a nondescript, banal and ordinary new 'skin.'  In the name of progress!

The following day architects Alvin Hausman and Stanley Rosenberg wrote a rebuttal.  "Paris," they said, "is a nineteenth-century city while New York is of our time...The existing Black, Starr & Frost building is as outmoded and outdated in our society as a horse-drawn carriage."  The architects defended their renovation saying that they were replacing marble with marble and "have not chosen to put a 'sardine can' within the stone esthetic of Fifth Avenue."

image via Google maps.

The renovated structure left no hint of Carrere & Hastings's magnificent Renaissance commercial palazzo.  Ironically, it was remodeled and reclad again in 2018 by Yshihara Mckee Architects.

image via loopnet.com

many thanks to reader Doug Wheeler for suggesting this post

no permission to reuse the content of this blog has been granted to LaptrinhX.com