The 1899 Charles Austin Bates House - 109 Riverside Drive

From the corner vantage point, the sliced-off  section is glaringly obvious.  photo courtesy of LandmarkWest!

Prolific architect Clarence Fagan True focused his attention almost entirely on the Upper West Side.  He would eventually produce more than 270 Upper West Side residences designed in his trademark eclectic mix of historic styles.

When True first opened his architectural office in 1889 Frederick Law Olmsted’s rambling Riverside Park had been taking shape for 14 years and would not be completed until the turn of the century.  The naturalistic park with its wide drive and breathtaking vistas across the Hudson River was expected to lure wealthy homeowners away from Fifth and Madison Avenues.  Riverside Avenue, later renamed Riverside Drive, began at 72^nd Street and upon completion would follow the curving topography to 129^th Street.

The potential of the Drive was not lost on True who, according to an 1899 brochure "Riverside Drive," was "so thoroughly impressed with the possibilities of the river front as a residence district that he secured all the available property south of 84th street, and by covering it with beautiful dwellings, insured a most promising future for the Drive."

In 1898 True began construction of a group of six upscale houses on Riverside Drive between 82nd and 83rd Streets.  The northern-most house opened onto West 83rd Street, but took the more impressive address of No. 109 Riverside Drive.  In fact, it engulfed two buildings plots, stretching 75 feet along the Drive.

The Elizabethan Revival style house created an imposing anchor to the row.  Perhaps to maintain the rhythm and balance of the other homes, True designed the Riverside Drive elevation in two parts, looking at a glance like a pair of houses.  Most formidable was the rounded tower shape of the corner section which rose to a crenelated parapet.  The angled southern wing carried on the arched openings of the ground floor and copied the fenestration of the second through fourth floors.  The design broke away at the attic level where a solid wall with embrasures (historically, slots for archers to fend off attack) partially hid a tall dormer.  Its pyramidal cap was covered in the same red clay tiles of the mansard roof.

The double-wide house (on the left) originally looked at a glance like two.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The limestone framed entrance on 83rd Street took the form of a one-story Elizabethan gatehouse.  Its lavish ornamentation included faceted colonnettes, niches and a double-doored entrance within a molded arch.

photo courtesy of Landmark West!

True sold the house to Charles Austin Bates and his wife, the former Belle Brandenburg.  In 1902 Bates transferred title to Belle, a common practice at the time.  

Born in Indianapolis, Indiana in 1866, Bates wrote books on "the art of advertising in its various phases," according to Who's Who in New York, and contributed articles to trade journals.  He and Belle were married on September 11, 1890.  Their sole child, Margaret, was born the following year.

The seemingly indefatigable Charles Austin Bates did not slow down.  In 1903 he formed the Bates Advertising Co, and in 1905 he backed the Colorado-Yule Marble Co., touted as "the largest and most reliable deposit of high-grade white marble known to exist in the world."  In 1908 he diversified again, organizing the Rutherford Rubber Co. and assuming its presidency.

from the collection of the New York Public Library

But it was Belle whose name appeared in print most often.  She was highly involved in various charitable and social organizations.  On April 2, 1902, for instance, the New-York Tribune reported "The final meeting of the season of the auxiliary of the Riverside Day Nursery will be held on Friday, April 25...at the home of Mrs. Charles Austin Bates, No. 109 Riverside Drive." 

The Society of the Daughters of Ohio in New York absorbed much of Belle's focus.  On March 6, 1904 the New-York Tribune reported on an entertainment she had hosted for the group the previous week.  "Mrs. Bates wore a gown of point duchesse lace, with diamond and pearl ornaments," the article noted.

But things were about to sour.

Belle and about 14 other members revolted following the election of officers in November 1905.  On December 16 the New-York Daily Tribune reported on "the conditions on which Mrs. Charles Austin Bates and her adherents will consent to remain with the Daughters of Ohio."  Belle and her cohorts demanded, "If you want us to stay in you must agree to set aside the recent election, to elect an entire new ticket and to review the constitution to make it agree with the charter."  Newspapers followed the upheaval until "the dove of peace" finally roosted on the Daughters of Ohio.

The Bates family maintained a summer home, Camp Cabates, in Old Forge, New York.  Newspapers that reported on their comings and goings there each season referred to it as their "lodge in the Adirondacks."  In 1907, however, they spent the summer elsewhere.  On April 28 The New York Times reported that the family, along with Charles's mother, Margaret, who lived on Central Park West, "will leave town shortly for a trip of several weeks through Colorado."

Belle was also a member of the College Woman's Club and it was an entertainment she held for that group in May 1908 which was among her most unusual.  The New-York Tribune reported "Eighteen young Italian boys, dressed in Roman togas, with sandals on their feet, made a picturesque group in the parlor of Mrs. Charles A. Bates, No. 109 Riverside Drive, yesterday afternoon, while they sang in the sweet young voices a number of songs."  The boys were from the Elizabeth Street tenements.  The group had been formed by the Rev. Father W. H. Walsh of the Church of Our Lady of Loretta.  And while the society women may have been charmed by their renditions of songs like "The Owl and the Pussy Cat" and "Birds in the Night," the street-wise boys dressed in togas must have been humiliated.

The Bates' chauffeur, Thomas McKenna, caused his employers difficulties in 1909.  The first incident, in fact, dated back three years.  On December 16, 1906 the James H. Sullivan was struck and injured by Bates' automobile.  Sullivan sued Charles Austin Bates, even though he was not in the car.  The legal back-and-forth continued until April 1909 when Bates was found liable for the $1,000 damages.  The verdict held that since the chauffeur was "engaged in the business of his employer," that employer was responsible.

Two weeks after the disheartening verdict, on April 30, McKenna was driving Belle through Midtown when he was arrested for reckless driving.  Belle posted the Riverside Drive house as security to provide his bail.   The New York Herald noted "Her home is valued at $85,000, she said."  (That amount would equal about $2.45 million today.)  "After obtaining the release of the chauffeur, Mrs. Bates resumed her ride," said the article.

The third incident that year was not McKenna's fault.  On October 20 The Evening Telegram reported the terrifying story entitled "Woman Escapes Automobile Blaze."  The article began "Flames almost enveloped the fine car in which was Mrs. Charles Austin Bates, of No. 109 Riverside drive, and she had a narrow escape today when the automobile, ablaze from the gasolene tank underneath, was brought to a stop at Seventh avenue and 114th street."

McKenna realized the car was on fire just in time.  The newspaper said he "was literally surrounded by fire when he stopped the car and leaped to the sidewalk.  Mrs. Bates jumped from the inside of the automobile at the same moment."  The trauma was too much for the chauffeur to handle.  "Greatly excited, McKenna rushed into the Rochambeau Apartment House, nearby, and fainted.  He was soon revived."  The article noted "While a large crowd was gathering, Mrs. Bates left the scene in a cab."

Those problems paled when compared to the troubles the couple would face in 1910.  Since 1899, the year the six houses were completed, Mrs. Charlotte Y. Ackerman had battled in court complaining that they encroached six feet past the property line.  Mrs. Ackerman lived at No. 331 West 82nd Street, a three-story house about 30 feet east of Riverside Drive.  Her suit maintained the houses obstructed "a good clear view of the majestic beauties of the Hudson River, not to mention the more artificial beauties of the Drive."

The neighbors strongly disagreed.  One told a reporter "This view which she talks so much about is not her view at all.  Her house faces south, and her only possible opportunity of looking northward at all is by standing on that second floor balcony and craning her neck around the corner of her own house.  And, besides that, you'd think she'd have enough 'view' as it is, with the whole expanse of the Hudson to gaze upon and Riverside Park, too."

After more than a decade in court, the 80-something year old Charlotte Ackerman won.  The homeowners were directed to remove the portions of their homes that overstepped the property line.  On July 2, 1910 the New-York Tribune reported "Park Commissioner Charles A. Stover is going to send a crew of his men over to that locality this morning to erect scaffolding, preliminary to tearing out the front walls of that row of fashionable dwellings."

Belle Bates fought back, threatening to sue the City for $30,000 in damages "if she was unable to save her house."  In the end, it was a lost cause.  On April 1, 1911 the Record & Guide reported that architects Tracy, Swartwout & Litchfield were designing the alterations which would cost Bates the equivalent of $139,000 in today's money, not to mention significant square footage.  The firm carefully removed Clarence True's architectural details, reincorporating them into the new design.

In 1911 scaffolding went up as preparations for removing the Riverside Drive facade were underway.  from the collection of the Avery Architectural & Fine Arts Library, Columbia University

Belle resumed her social activities in the remodeled home with its now-flattened side.  On January 24, 1913, for instance, she hosted a benefit dance for the College Women's Club in the house.

Then, in 1917 the Bates house was sold to Leonard Lewisohn.  A listing of household items offered for sale in January gives a hint of Belle's decorating taste.  Included were"Oriental Rugs; Tiger, Polar and Grizzly and Mountain Lion Rugs; Oil Paintings, Bric-a-Brac, and some Furniture."

Lewisohn was leasing the former Bates house to May Futrelle in 1920, who shared it with her daughter, Virginia.  May and her husband, short story writer and novelist, Jacques Futrelle, had been on the doomed maiden voyage of the R.M.S. Titanic in April 1912.  Because Virginia was a student at the Convent of Notre Dame in Baltimore, she had not accompanied them.  Only her mother had returned on the Carpathia.

Virginia, now a well-known singer, did most of the entertaining in the Riverside Drive house.  On November 20, 1920, for instance, The New York Herald reported that "Miss Elizabeth Hanneford, equestrienne of 'Good Times' at the Hippodrome," was to be the guest of honor at a "farewell bachelor dinner" that evening.  Elizabeth was to be married the next day.  "The dinner will be given by Miss Virginia Futrelle, Hippodrome singer...107 Riverside Drive"

A week later The New York Herald reported "Following the Army and Navy game at the Polo Grounds this afternoon, Miss Virginia Futrelle, one of the principal singers in 'Good Times' at the Hippodrome, will entertain the entire Navy squad and about fifty other midshipmen at a buffet supper at her mother's home, 107 Riverside Drive."  Virginia's brother, John, had was a member of the next graduating class of the Naval Academy.

Within two months May and Virginia Futrelle were forced to find a new home.  On January 30, 1921 the New-York Tribune reported that the estate of Leonard Lewisohn had sold the house to Romualdo Sapio, an Italian accompanist, opera coach and conductor. 

Romualdo Sapio and his wife, Mme. Clementine De Vere-Sapio.  original sources unknown

Sapio's wife, Clementine De Vere-Sapio, was a former operatic singer.  She made her debut as Marguerite de Valois in Les Huguenots in Florence at the age of 16.  She and Romualdo were married in 1892.  Now, like her husband, she was a vocal teacher and conductor.

The end of the line for the former Bates house came in 1937 when it was converted to apartments--one on each floor except the fifth, which held two.  Among the first residents was stage and motion picture actress Benay Venuta, who signed a lease in November 1937.

Born Benvenuta Rose Crooke in 1910 or 1911, Benay was a well-rounded entertainer--an actress, singer and dancer.  Her first appearance in silent films was in the 1928 Trail of '98.  She would go on to have roles in successful talkies like Annie Get Your Gun, Call Me Mister, and Bullets Over Broadway.

Modern Screen magazine, July 1945

Clarence True's imposing mansion with its sliced-off side is still a commanding presence at the 83rd Street corner.  Nevertheless, one cannot help but wishing that castle-ready tower were still intact.

photo courtesy of Landmark West!

The Charles T. Dillingham House - 320 West 88th Street

The windows of the upper bay were originally curved.

Clarence True was arguably the most prolific architect working on the Upper West Side in the 1880's and '90's.  He notably played with historic styles, often blending them to create whimsical hybrids but always adapting vintage architecture for modern use.  In 1890 he was commissioned by William E. Lanchantin to design five 20-foot wide rowhouses on West 88th Street between West End Avenue and Riverside Drive.  Completed in 1891, each of the residences was individual yet they flowed together as a grouping.  In their design True had brought the Elizabeth Renaissance into the 19th century.

Like its neighbors, the center house, No. 320, was faced in brick and brownstone.  It was distinguished by a bay--faceted at the basement and parlor levels and then rounded above--which rose the full height to the attic level.   A complex carved frieze of back-to-back griffins ran along the roofline of the entire row.  The roof was shingled in slate tiles and the single pointed dormer was given a checkerboard motif of brick and tile.

Each of True's houses was individual, but harmonious with its neighbors.  No. 320 is in the center.

On April 2, 1891 Fanny C. and Charles T. Dillingham purchased No. 320 for $22,750--just under $660,000 in today's money.  Dillingham was the principal in the large publishing firm and book store, Charles T. Dillingham & Co.  He was described by The Sun that year as "the leading book jobber in the United States, a smart, active, and energetic business man."

Dillingham had been in the book business since 1870 when he co-founded Lee, Shepard & Dillingham.  Five years later he took over the business.  Until the year before purchasing the 88th Street house he had been perhaps as well noted for a much different enterprise--baseball. 

Winged griffins standing back-to-back form the carved frieze.

Dillingham was a stockholder and director in the New York Amusement Company which owned the New York Baseball Club.  But upheaval within the ranks of the players, exacerbated by a catastrophic losing season in 1890, left the club hemorrhaging cash.  It resulted in what The Sun called "the disastrous baseball war" and in Dillingham's resignation after he "soon became tired of putting his hand in his pocket."

In 1889, a year before its disastrous season, the club it took what today would be the World's Series.  original source unknown

The financial losses in his baseball club investment came at a time of what what Dillingham described as "dull trade, low prices, [and] strong competition."  Only months after moving into his new house, his business failed.

The Sun, December 11, 1892 (copyright expired)

After more than two decades in business, Charles T. Dillingham & Co. held a liquidation sale in December 1892.

The 88th Street house next became home to confectioner Alex E. Cohen and his wife, Catherine.   The couple apparently lived happily here until the summer social season of 1899.  They leased a cottage at Long Branch, New Jersey and on the evening of July 28 they and friends went to "a hop" at the Ocean Hotel.  Apparently unaware of a heart ailment, Catherine overexerted herself.

The New York Press reported "She had danced for some time when she complained of feeling ill.  Almost immediately she fell to the floor, and before physicians could be summoned she was dead."  The newspaper somewhat coldly entitled the article "Finished Waltz: Fell Dead."

Alex Cohen retained ownership of the 89th Street house for a while, but moved out soon after the tragedy.  He leased it to Miles M. O'Brien and his family.

Miles M. O'Brien, History of The Tammany Society, 1901 (copyright expired)

O'Brien's wife was the former Thomasine Leahy.  The couple had four sons, Miles Jr., Jay, Thomas and Tivar.   O'Brien had come from Limerick, Ireland in 1868 at the age of 26.  He obtained a job as a clerk in the H. B. Claflin Company store, working his way up within the organization.  After twenty-five years with Claflin, he went into banking and, after his appointment in 1885, simultaneously served on the Board of Education.  In 1900 he was made president of the Board.

Because of his responsible position and public reputation, O'Brien was no doubt somewhat humiliated when he had to appear in the West Side Court on April 9, 1901 following his son's arrest.  The following day The Morning Telegraph entitled an article "Love Songs Bring Rich Boys to Grief" and detailed how Thomas O'Brien and four friends had been arrested "because they sang a few Spanish love songs under their sweethearts' windows in Riverside Drive."

The article explained "The young men have been in the habit of serenading, and complaints have been made to Capt. Schmittberger, of the West 100th street station, by residents in the district, on the grounds that the singing disturbed them."  After the young Romeos told their story to the judge, he dismissed their cases "on the promise that they would sing no more."

On May 25, 1903 Alex E. Cohen sold the house to real estate operator Mabel Suydam.  She continued to lease it to the O'Briens.

It was Miles O'Brien who came up with the idea of free baths for poor children in the tenement districts.  He also initiated night schools and free lecture courses within the public schools.  Perhaps because of his own humble beginnings, he constantly worked for the underprivileged and was an ardent supporter of the High School of Commerce.  He lobbied for adequate pensions for teachers and, according to the Irish-American Advocate later, "in countless smaller says raised the standard of the city's educational system."

In September 1910 O'Brien became ill.  Three months later, on Christmas Eve, he died in the 89th Street house from intestinal disease.

No. 320 was purchased by Alderman William C. Towen.  As was common at the time, the title was put in the name of his wife, Mary.  Towen's name was often preceded by the title Commodore in the newspapers. He had been Commodore of the Brooklyn Yacht Club (for which he his sloop yacht the Tammany was flagship in the Lipton Cup race in 1908).  The couple's only daughter, Florence Tarbell Towen, had married Vincent Stuyvesant Lippe in April 1909.

The couple's residency would be relatively short-lived.  On March 19, 1912 William Towen died.  Three months later, on June 26, the New-York Tribune reported that Mary had sold No. 320 to Elizabeth A. Cohen.

Elizabeth, who was familiarly known as Eliza, was the wife of Thomas J. Colton, president of Behrman & Colton.  Their only son, Louis, was a director in the firm which Millinery Trade Review said was involved in "the importation and manufacture of artificial flowers and fancy feathers."    

Like his predecessors in the house, Thomas J. Colson was as well a highly visible Tammany Hall associate.  On May 23, 1909 the New-York Tribune had entitled an article "Plums For Tammany" which reported on the "fat commissionerships" formed "to condemn lands for the Askokan dam water supply system for New York."  Included in the list of commissioners was Thomas J. Colton.

A year before the couple purchased No. 320, on July 12, 1911, Mayor William Jay Gaynor had appointed Colton president of the board of the newly formed Board of Inebriety.  

The well-intentioned group was charged with establishing "a hospital and an industrial colony for the care and treatment of inebriates."  It was a bit far-reaching in its powers.  Whenever any "male person" was arrested for intoxication, "the board must be notified by telephone and the name and address of the person arrested noted," explained The New York Times on July 13, 1911.  If a second arrest happened within twelve months, the board had the power to commit the offender to the hospital or colony "for a period of not less than one year nor more than three years."

The Board of Inebrity fell apart in March 1918 after squabbling between its directors and the Mayor and two other city officials resulted in Colton and four other directors walking off the job.  With only two directors left, Gaynor simply dissolved the group.

On April 28, 1920 Elizabeth Colton died.  Her funeral was held in the house two days later.  Louis, his wife, and their daughter Mary Elizabeth (known as Betty), continued to live at No. 320 with Thomas.

Betty was introduced to society during the 1924-25 winter season.  On January 20, 1925 The Evening Mail reported that "Mrs. Louis M. Colton will give a luncheon next Saturday at Sherry's for her debutante daughter, Miss Betty Colton."

Thomas J. Colton died on March 9, 1935.  He left an estate of just under $775,000--or about $14.5 million today.  Of that Louis received $5,000 outright and "life estate in $443,557," as reported by the Buffalo Evening News.

The Coltons left 89th Street soon after.  In 1936 Harold Arneson was living here when the New York Post's drama critic Vilas J. Boyle stopped him outside the Longacre Theatre to get his opinion of the new play Howdy Stranger.  She mentioned in her review that "The applause was pretty terrific at the end, but there was a lot of undertoned scoffing."  Apparently one of those scoffers was Arneson, who commented simply "A couple of good gags still don't make a farce comedy."

By the mid-1950's the house had been converted to four apartments.  Rose Raymond lived in one of them from at least 1953 through 1955.  An accomplished pianist, she gave private lessons in her apartment.

There are still four apartments in the residence.  Other than replacement windows and the sad loss of the dormer tiles, it has fared much better than its siblings, all of which have lost their stoops.

photographs by the author

The Catherine - 1 West 89th Street

Among the most significant and influential late 19th century architects working on the developing Upper West Side was Clarence True.  Eventually responsible for scores of structures in the district, his penchant for working in historic styles--sometimes in playful combination--helped shape the architectural personality of the Upper West Side.  

In 1899 True was hired by developers Eppenstein & Mathews to design an upscale apartment building on the northwest corner of Central Park West and 89th Street.  For this project the architect looked back to Renaissance England and the Jacobean style.

Completed the following year, the seven-story structure was faced in red brick and heavily trimmed in contrasting limestone.  Alternating bands of stone and brick at the corners produced a striped effect.  The entrance, with its hefty sandstone Gibbs surround, sat on the quieter 89th Street.  At the sixth and seventh floors True used terra cotta to execute Corinthian pilasters and ornate spandrel panels.  Elaborate pediments above the corner and end windows of the top floor suggested scalloped dormers.

An advertisement in the New York Herald on September 13, 1903 read "The Catherine, 1 West 89th st, 6 and 7 rooms and bath.  Fireproof.  Elect. light included."  The six-room apartments rented for $1,000 a year and the larger units for $1,300.   That would translate to about $3,200 per month for the seven-room apartment today.

The residents, like the Daemker family, who moved into the Catherine were well-to-do, and summered away from the city.  On April 10, 1903 the Republican Watchman noted "Mrs. Mary Daemker, of No. 1 West 89th St., New York, has rented the cottage of Benj. Lewis at Kiameshia Lake for the summer.  Price $400."

Another tenant seems to have been leaving for the winter that year, possibly going abroad.  That family sought to sub-let their apartment with an ad on September 5, 1903:  "Corner apartment, six rooms, bath, elevator, electric light, telephone, piano, silver, linen, china."

Among the respected residents was Dr. Schuyler Clinton Jacques, a physician with the Metropolitan Hospital.  He had married the widowed Alice Ann Clemmons in March 1902, just before moving in.   

On Saturday morning, January 20, 1906 Jacques was aroused by an urgent knock on his door.  A 44-year old widow and invalid, Mrs. Henrietta Freeman, had thrown herself from her sixth floor window in the newly-completed St. Urban Apartments across the street.  But when the doctor got to the building's courtyard the woman was dead.

Working as a servant in the Jacques apartment at the time was Caroline Morris.  She quit working for the couple later that year and then devised a vicious scheme to make up for the lost income.  Posing as Dr. Jacques's former secretary, she filed suit for $150 in back pay; saying she left his employ after he failed to paid her.

According to her well-concocted story, she had been ill in St. Luke's Hospital and was attended to by Jacques.  She claimed that before her sickness she had been a sculptor's model "and had posed for 'The Dancing Girl' by Paul Mocquet.'"  Then, after she recovered, Jacques persuaded her to become his secretary.  After working for him for three months and, not being paid, she left.

The suit apparently was not moving quickly enough for Caroline Morris, and so she stoked the fire on October 22 by rushing up to a policeman and complaining that the doctor was stalking her and she wanted him arrested.  That worked.

The following day The Sun reported "A girl with flowing hair and flashing eyes bounded into the Jefferson Market police court yesterday afternoon followed by a no-less excited and indignant man, who was in the custody of a policeman."

Caroline told the judge "Since I started this suit, in fact ever since I left this man's office, he has been following me about and annoying me.  Twice today he followed me, watching until I left my home and annoying me all the time until I got back again.  At last I grew desperate and asked a policeman to arrest him."

Dr. Jacques had something to say, himself.  "Why, she worked as a domestic in my house.  I never saw her in a hospital.  This is all a trick of hers to help out the civil suit which she is bringing against me."

The judge dismissed the case and everyone went home.


Caroline Morris's story may have been inspired by the actual events which led to the romance and marriage of Schuyler and Alice.  An Englishwoman, Alice had come to America in 1900 and got a nursing job.  The couple met when she was the nurse to one of Jacques's patients.

The New York Times explained, "Later she was taken ill with scarlet fever; he attended her, fell in love, and they were married."  It was a charming love story that would have an unhappy ending.

In 1907 the doctor's brother, attorney McClure Jacques, was traveling abroad.  He sat next to an English Army officer on a train and the two struck up a conversation.  When the topic turned to the Southampton district of England, McClure mentioned that his brother was married to a Southampton widow, Mrs. Joseph George Clemmons.  Shockingly, the officer replied that he knew Joseph Clemmons very well.  And he was quite alive.

The news understandably caused no lack of domestic disturbance in the Jacques household.  Alice insisted that her husband was dead.  The doctor sent her off to England to unravel the mystery.  However when she returned, according to him, "she refused to give him any information on the subject."

In August 1909 he filed suit to have the marriage annulled.  Interestingly, he neither left the Catherine, nor did he ask Alice to do so.  On August 12 The New York Times explained "Dr. Jacques and his wife are still living in the same apartment, but when seen last night she said her husband was at home very little and did not take his meals there."  She insisted to the reporter that she had been told Joseph Clemmons was dead.

Jacques's decision that the couple still technically live together seems to have been well played.  While a hearing was pending, Alice filed her own action, seeking alimony.  Her affidavit listed her husband's annual income at $712,000 in today's money.

In court on August 13 her lawyer explained "My client is now living in the same house with him and he is furnishing her with food and clothing, but nothing else."  The judge wondered what, then, she needed the alimony for.

"For carfare and many other things that a woman desires."

"She wants pin money, then," said the judge.

It did not go well for Alice.  The court ruled that "a woman living in the same house with her husband is not entitled to alimony."

In 1918 the family of Mordecai M. Kaplan moved into the Catherine.  The rabbi had been an instructor at the Jewish Theological Seminary since 1909.  At the time that the family arrived at the Catherine, he was little known outside of the Seminary community.  That would all begin to change in 1922 when he founded the Society for the Advancement of Judaism, redefining Judaism as a "civilization" and embracing the culture of Judaism beyond religious beliefs.  Years later The New York Times would call him "a towering figure in the recent history of Judaism."

Financier W. C. Boschen took on an unexpected hobby around the time the Kaplan family moved in--big-game fishing.  Every summer, while other residents were traveling to their country homes or fashionable resorts, Boschen went to the West Coast to fish.  He made headlines nationwide in August 1913.

A special dispatch to The New York Herald from Avalon, California reported  "W. C. Boschen of New York, has been the happiest fisherman in this neighborhood ever since last Saturday, when he made the record catch of what is considered the only true swordfish ever landed with rod and reel, and certainly the first 'broadbill' ever caught in these waters."

Boschen's catch weighed in at 335 pounds.  It took him an hour and a half to battle the swordfish into submission.  In the end, it was not only the fish that was hooked, it was the fisherman.  Big-game fishing became the banker's obsession.

He made national news again in September 1917 when he reeled in another record swordfish.  This time the fight lasted two and a half hours but the reward was worth it.  Boschen's fish was 463 pounds.  For his record-breaking catch, he received valuable award from the Tuna Club of California.  The Sun described it as "an exquisite masterpiece of the jeweler's art, a swordfish in beaten silver accompanied by rod, real and gaff, and the whole mounted upon an oaken panel.

Boschen's record catch was postcard-worthy.  The well-heeled angler apparently fished in suit and bow-tie.  The more casually dressed man is presumably George C. Farnsworth.

The following year, of course, Boschen was back.  On October 18, 1918 The Sun reported that "The returns of the annual summer tournament of the Tuna Club are all in, and W. C. Boschen of 1 West Eighty-ninth street, New York city, leads all anglers in the number of tuna taken, ninety-nine."

It would be the last visit to California for Boschen, at least alive.  On one of the first trips out that season, Boschen had divulged to his close friend and fishing companion, Captain George C. Farnsworth of Avalon, California, that he had a serious medical condition; what seems to have been cancer.

Farnsworth later recalled "That day he told me about the operation he expected to have performed in November, and said that his doctors told him he could have one more year to fish.  So he took the last new months, and let his chance for life wait until the angling season closed."

Shortly after he returned to New York the operation was performed.  He died on November 15, 1918.  His large estate included "many tracts of land in Beaufort county, North Carolina," according to The Sun.  His will left generous bequests to the Presbyterian Hospital, a trust fund of $100,000 to his widow (about $1.67 million today), and another of $40,000 to his son to be held until he reached the age of 35.  To George C. Farnsworth he left $25,000.

The will included specific instructions regarding the disposal of his remains.  Boschel wished to be cremated, his ashes sent to Farnsworth, and that "they be thrown into San Pedro Channel, between Catalina Island and San Pedro, California."

The following year, on November 1, 1919, the Syracuse, New York Daily Journal reported "The ashes of W C. Boschen, New York, financier and 'king of swordfishermen,' floated on the waters of Catalina channel to-day."  It had been, apparently, an emotional chore for Captain Farnsworth.  Boschen's former fishing companion was alone in the boat which the two had used for years.  He followed the exact route they always fished, and then 12 miles out to sea he opened his lunchbox, and set out a lunch for two as had always been their habit.  "Farnsworth ate alone, and then scattered on the waves the ashes of his friend."

For years Helen W. Watts had lived in the building.  The widow of George B. Watts, her six daughters and one son were all grown.  Since 1863 she had been the head of the American Female Guardian Society.   The commendable organization, founded in 1834, addressed the plight of single mothers and prostitutes.  Women who became pregnant while not married suffered serious censure, branded as "fallen women."   Helen had been the head of the group for 56 years when she died in her apartment here at the age of 76 in May 1919.

Professor Otto Koenig and his wife, the former Margarette D. Purington, were living in the building by 1922.  (By now it had lost its name and was known only by the address of 1 West 89th Street.)  Since 1904 Koenig had been head of Sachs Collegiate Institute, founded around 1872 by Dr. Julius Sachs.  The private academy, which prepared boys for college, was conveniently close, at No 18 West 89th Street.

In 1913 Koenig came up with an innovative plan.  He purchased the former McAvoy farm on Grindstone Island, in the Thousand Islands upstate, and erected Camp Koenig, a summer school for boys.  The Thousand Island Sun later explained "Colony houses were constructed, a huge dock was built and the farm house made ready for dining and assembly hall."

Koenig hired Columbia University graduates as counselors "and a rigid schedule in academics mixed with sports, games and other forms of relations" was compiled, according to the article.  "Enrolled here were sons of the wealthy representing some of the greatest men on Wall street, in foremost American industries and the select few in aristocratic social life...Dr. Koenig built up an enviable reputation for himself and Mrs. Koenig."

The enrollment for the summer camp was significant.  On July 16, 1922 the New-York Tribune noted "Dr Otto Koenig, accompanied by sixty-eight boys and six teachers, has arrived at Camp Koenig on Grindstone Island."

While Koenig continued to run the Manhattan school, he gave up the camp following the summer session of 1923.  He and Margarette sold the property for $12,000.  The new owners announced it would be enlarged and improved.  Part of the deal was that the name Camp Koenig would remain for no fewer than eight years.

The advent of the Great Depression does not seem to have noticeably affected No. 1 West 89th Street.  An advertisement on August 22, 1934 offered "Exceptional view, large sunny rooms" of seven and eight rooms with two baths.  The rent was between $1,300 and $2,000; or about $3,125 per month for the more expensive unit today.

The Koenigs were still living here when they went to California for the winter season of 1949-50.  They were at Palo Alto on Sunday night, February 12, 1950 when Margarette suffered a fatal heart attack.  She was 73 years old.  

Apartment buildings on Central Park West did not suffer the humiliation experienced by similar buildings elsewhere in the city during the latter part of the 20th century.  The apartments at No. 1 West 89th Street were not broken up and the tenant list remained upscale.

There was one significant change, however, completed in 1988.  By now the private academy formerly run by Dr. Otto Koenig had been become the Dwight School.  An entrance was carved into the Central Park West elevation and the first floor of the building converted to a school for for academy.  A subsequent alteration in 2002 enlarged the school into the second floor.

Clarence True's Victorian, Jacobean Revival apartment house looks a bit out of place among Central Park West's soaring Art Deco buildings.  But its jubilant red-and-white charm is in many ways a delightful exception.

photographs by the author

The Henry B. Anderson Mansion - 323 West 80th Street

A garage door replaces what was originally a trio of windows.  The service entrance, at far left, has been blocked in.

The prolific Upper West Side architect Clarence True began construction of a row of seven upscale residences in 1897.  The group would wrap the northeast corner of Riverside Drive and West 80th Street.  Designed in the Elizabethan Renaissance Revival style, they featured a romantic blend of shapes and materials.

No. 323 West 80th Street was a palatial 40-feet wide.  True's asymmetrical design resulted in the two halves nearly appearing as separate houses.  The arched entrance within the limestone base was flanked by two openings on the east, and three on the west.  Their transoms, and those in the second and third floors, were filled with brilliantly colored stained glass.  The service door was located at the far west side.

The row was completed in 1898, but well before then No 323 had been sold to real estate operator Charles H. Davis.  He and Clarence True often worked together and Davis may have provided input on the interior design of the house.   Davis's wife, Ida, was also active in real estate.  When construction was completed, Charles transferred the title to No. 323 to Ida.  This was no loving gift; he charged her $20,000 for the deed--about $651,000 today.

The house soon became home to wealthy physician H. Edward Russell.  The family had house guests in the winter of 1913-1914; a visit that would end in a bizarre tragedy.

Mrs. Elizabeth Eaton and her daughter arrived in New York in her touring car from Detroit, Michigan.  Her chauffeur, Frank E. Berry, stayed in the Russell house as well, driving the women around town as needed.

On the afternoon of January 13 Berry drove them to Carnegie Hall where they attended a lecture.  After dropping them off, he drove back around, getting in line with the other chauffeurs who waited for the event to end.  Carnegie Hall had an inventive procedure by which the drivers were given a number and when the attendees were ready to be picked up, an attendant let the chauffeurs know by illuminating that number on an electric signboard. 

But that January day was especially frigid and even the most expensive automobiles did not yet have heaters.   The Eatons left the hall at 5:00.  Ten minutes after their number was flashed, Elizabeth asked a man to please walk down the line to see what happened to her car.  The New York Times reported on his grisly discovery.  "The automobile was found at its proper place in line.  On the seat, sitting upright, was the rigid figure of Berry.  He was dead."

Dr. Russell was at home and he rushed to the scene.  He examined the body and pronounced that the death "had been due to the intense cold to which Berry had been exposed."  The Times was more direct, saying the chauffeur was "frozen to death."

When Dr. Russell lived here the house was covered with ivy.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Henry Burrall Anderson purchased No. 323 in 1916.  He married Marie Whittemore Larocque on December 3, 1891 and the couple had two sons, Henry Hill Anderson and Joseph Larocque Anderson.  Marie died on November 30, 1903, leaving Henry to rear the boys as a single father.  Henry was 10 and Joseph 13 at the time.

Born on January 2, 1863 Anderson had had a privileged upbringing.  He attended St. Paul's School in Concord, New Hampshire, graduated from Yale College in 1885 and then entered Harvard Law School.  In 1898 he and his younger brother, Chandler P. Anderson, formed the law firm of Anderson & Anderson.

The Andersons had summered at their country home near Ridgefield, Connecticut.  But when Marie died, Henry closed the house, never to return.  Although he retained possession of his nearly 3,000 acres there, he established his new summer estate at Sands Point, Long Island.

Before moving into No. 323 Henry Anderson had renovations done, some of them reflective of what would be an all-male population.  When completed, according to the New-York Tribune later, it contained "twenty-one rooms and six baths, including a large solarium, tiled loggia and fountain, gymnasium, etc."

Henry B. Anderson's vast personal fortune was due greatly in part to his prominent clients.  He was not only the attorney for the New York Central Railway, but the personal counsel to the Vanderbilt family.  So close was their relationship that when Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt was lost on May 7, 1915 when the RMS Lusitania was torpedoed by the Germans, his will left Anderson $200,000--more than $5 million today.

Quarter-Centenary Record, Yale University 1912 (copyright expired)

Son Henry had graduated from Yale University in 1916, the same year his father purchased No. 323.  When the United States entered World War I, he enlisted in the Army, rising to the rank of major in the cavalry.  His brother, Joseph, chose the Navy, serving on the USS Lydonia in the Mediterranean.  When peace returned, both returned to the West 80th Street house.

Henry B. Anderson maintained a busy schedule in business and in leisure.  In addition to his legal practice, he was a member of the University Club (he was its first president, a position he held for nine years), was the governor of the Automobile Club of America, and in 1919 was elected to the Thousand Islands Yacht Club.

In the fall of 1920 Henry Anderson would find himself suddenly alone in the mansion.  Joseph, who had also gone into the legal profession, was the first to marry.  His wedding to Irene Margaret Peacock took place in the bride's home at No. 46 East 79th Street on June 24, 1920.  Then just two months later, on August 21, Henry married Helen James on Long Island.

The social prominence of the family was evidenced in the guest list at Henry's wedding.  The New-York Tribune reported among those present, "Mr. and Mrs. William G. Rockefeller, William Rockefeller, Mrs. Whitelaw Reid" along with elite social names like Brewster and Jennings.

With his sons gone, No. 323 may have been too much house for Anderson.  In November 1922 he sold it and moved to Park Avenue.  The New-York Tribune reported on November 15 that "The new owner intends to occupy part of the house."  That was untrue.

Alterations, completed in 1923, resulted in a physician's office on the ground floor, a single apartment on the second, furnished rooms on floors three through five, and one apartment on the top floor.  The days of millionaire occupants were over.

Among the early residents was Francis Brenner, who was affluent enough to own an automobile in 1926.  Unfortunately for him, he had a lead foot, a fact that did not please Supreme Court Justice Louis A. Valente.  When Brennen showed up in court on August 25 for his second speeding offense, Valente had had enough.  He sentenced Brennen to ten days in jail.

Perhaps the most well-known resident was former judge of General Sessions Robert Stephen Johnstone.  He took an apartment in No. 323 sometime after his divorce from the former Margaret Pollock in 1927. 

Born in Ireland, he came to New York around 1900.  He rose to prominence as Assistant District Attorney in 1902, a position he held until being appointed to the bench in 1922.  His Tammany Hall opponents ensured that he served only one term and in 1923 he returned to private practice as a criminal lawyer.  The New York Times said he "won 90 per cent of the cases he argued.

The 60-year-old left his apartment on June 4, 1935 for Mount Sinai Hospital after being ill with what was diagnosed as acute anemia for some time.  He would not return.   He was given several blood transfusions, but the treatments were unsuccessful.  He died there five days later.

Change would come to the beleaguered mansion in 1970.  When Broadway producer Bill DeSeta and his wife, Donna, purchased it for $170,000 that year, it contained 20 single-occupancy rooms.  They put another $200,000 into renovations that resulted in a 3,000-square foot duplex and eight apartments on the upper floors.   The changes included bricking up the service entrance and carving a garage into half of the parlor floor.

The 20th century abuse had left the new owners nearly none of Clarence True's interior detailing.  The DeSetas' upscale remodeling incorporated period-appropriate paneling and antique mantelpieces.  The sole surviving True elements were the beamed dining room ceiling and leaded glass windows, which were preserved.

Among their tenants in 2005, according to Ten-Tronck's Celebrity Locator that year, was the multi-talented Bernadette Peters. 

After owning the property for 47 years, the couple placed the house on the market in 2017 for $20 million.

photographs by the author