The 1906 Arthur Gibb House - 14 East 55th Street

 

photograph by the author

Around 1870, a four-story, high-stoop brownstone was erected at 14 East 55th Street.  Midblock between Fifth and Madison Avenues, it was home to the Alexander Marsland family at the turn of the century.  In 1901 Marsland joined others in the neighborhood to petition the city for enamel street signs to be affixed to lamp posts.  The petition pointed out, "it is next to impossible for a stranger to find the names of many of the streets of the city unless he is fortunate enough to encounter a Policeman."

The architecturally outdated Marsland house and five of its abutting neighbors were purchased by the prolific real estate developers William Hall's Sons in 1904.  The firm began construction of a row of six opulent residences on the sites designed by the architectural firm of Clinton & Russell.  Each of the 23-foot-wide homes would be individual, yet would flow  harmoniously together.

Completed in 1906, 14 East 55th Street was faced in red brick above the limestone-clad ground floor.  Designed in the American basement plan, the entrance was just a few steps above the sidewalk.  The fifth floor took the form of a stylish, slate-shingled mansard punctured by two dormers.  An advertisement in August 1906 noted it was "Ready for Occupancy," and read:

New English Basement Dwelling.  Passenger elevator, steam heat, and hot water from street.  Restricted private house location on front, rear and sides.

The mention of the "restricted" location referred to the prohibition of any commercial activities within the surrounding blocks.

The Hall brothers sold 14 East 55th Street to Lila Gilbert, the wife of millionaire H. Bramhall Gilbert.  She had no intentions of living here, having a fine mansion at 826 Fifth Avenue.  It was, instead an investment.  But after leasing it a few years, she sold what The New York Times called "a fine residence" in August 1909 to Arthur and Emily M. Gibb.

Gibb was born in Brooklyn in 1858.  Following his graduation from Adelphi College, he worked for his father's business, Mills & Gibb, until 1897 when he became a partner in the Brooklyn Department store, Frederick Loeser & Co.  By the time he and Emily purchased 14 East 55th Street, he was its head.

Three of the men in Arthur Gibb's family had recently been the victims of a string of rapid-fire deaths.  His brother Howard died in Paris in June 1905; two months later, Gibb's father, John, died at his summer home in Islip, New York; and on July 22 1906 John Richmond Gibb (who was head of Frederick Loeser & Co. at the time) died at the age of 47.  Arthur was left with one surviving brother, Walter, who was also involved with the department store.

Following the death of John Richmond Gibb, Arthur not only took over his position at Frederick Loeser & Co., but his wife.  Almost immediately after the end of her mourning period, Emily married Arthur in 1908.  She brought two daughters, Dorothy and Ruth, and a son John, from her previous marriage to 14 East 55th Street.  The Gibbs summer home was in Glen Cove, New York.  

The purchase of the house came just in time for Dorothy's debut.  On December 15, 1909, The New York Times reported that Emily had given a reception to introduce her.  In the receiving line were socially recognizable names like Atterbury, Havemeyer, and Granville.  The article noted, "There was a dinner for the receiving party after the reception, following which the young people went to Miss Brown's theatre party at Daly's Theatre."

At the time of the event, Arthur Gibbs was not well.  Suffering from kidney disease, he had recently turned over the operations of Frederick Loeser & Co. to his brother Walter.  In January 1911 he was admitted to a private sanitarium on West 61st Street where he underwent an operation on January 11.  The Sun reported, "it was thought that he would recover, but he failed to rally."  The 53-year-old died four days later.  

The New-York Tribune reported that he left an estate of "more than $2,000,000."  (That would translate to about $64 million in 2023).  Emily received the Manhattan and Glen Cove residences and $108,509 outright (approximately $3.45 million today).

Although in mourning, the Gibbs women still needed to be properly coiffed.  On March 3, 1911, Emily accompanied Dorothy to a hair salon.  The New York Times said that Emily "stood near her while the hair-dresser worked."  Abruptly everything went wrong.  The article related, "The dresser used an electrical apparatus.  Suddenly there was a sharp explosion and a spark darted from the machine into Miss Gibb's hair.  In a moment her hair burst into flame."

Dorothy "cried out in pain" and tried to beat the flames out with her hands.  The panicked hairdresser ran around the room trying to find something to use to extinguish Dorothy's burning pate.  Only Emily was level-headed enough to act.  She whipped off her fur stole and threw it over Dorothy's head, "muffling the flames beneath it and beating them out."

The New York Times said "both mother and daughter were hysterical" and initially it was feared that Dorothy had been severely injured.  She and Emily were driven in an automobile to New York Hospital where it was discerned that she suffered only minor burns, although "much of her hair had been burned away."  She was kept in the hospital for several days.  Five days after the incident The New York Times noted, "Her mother was still ill from the shock at her home yesterday."

On January 18, 1914, The Sun reported, "Invitations will soon be sent out for the wedding of Miss Ruth Gibb...to Harold W. Carthart of this city, in St. Thomas's Church on February 19."  The New York Times added, "Miss Dorothy Gibb will be her sister's maid of honor."

John Richmond Gibb gave his sister away and after the fashionable ceremony, Emily hosted a reception in the East 55th Street house for which, according to The New York Times, "700 invitations were sent out."  The article added that Emily, "who was in the receiving party, was in a white moiré gown, topped by a black tulle trimmed hat."

A year later, almost to the day, the process was repeated.  On January 24, 1915 Dorothy married Bache McEvers Whitlock in St. Thomas's Church "in the presence of a large gathering," according to The Sun.  Once again, John Gibb escorted his sister down the aisle.  The article said, "Immediately after the ceremony there was a reception at the home of the bride's mother, 14 East Fifty-fifth street."  

At the time of Dorothy's wedding, the neighborhood around 14 East 55th Street was by no means any longer "restricted."  Millionaires were rapidly abandoning the area below 59th Street and their mansions were being razed or converted for business.  

By 1924, the ground floor of the Gibb house had been converted to the Maybell Manning dress shop.  An advertisement in May that year touted, "Great reduction in charming afternoon and evening creations.  Personal inspection invited."

Architect Louis A. Kornum was commissioned to remodel the first two floors in 1926.  A limestone frame now engulfed two stories of vast show windows.  The exterior of the upper floors remained unchanged.  

Maybell Manning remained into the early Depression years.  A subsequent renovation completed in 1938 resulted in two apartments each on the upper floors.  Where Maybell Manning had operated, the French fashion house of Henry a la Pensee now sold glamorous gowns and dresses.

Although its name was still emblazoned above the first floor, Henry a la Pensee had moved out in 1941.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

In 1940 two sets of newlyweds moved into apartments here.  The first were Katherryn Hernan, a professional model, who married chemist Dr. Eugene McCauliff in St. Patrick's Cathedral in April.  The groom of the second couple had a distinct connection to the house.  Bache McEvers Whitlock, Jr. was the son of Dorothy Gibb and Bache Whitlock.  He married Philbin Heath on December 22, 1940.  The Nassau Daily Review-Standard said, "After a wedding trip to Palm Beach, Fla., the couple will be at home at 14 East 55th st., New York City."

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

By 1946 the Gould Galleries occupied the store space.  The upscale firm sold American and foreign paintings.  In the 1970s and '80s, the society beauty salon of Pipino-Buccheri was here.  Run by Richard Buccheri and Marc Pipino, the salon was visited by The New York Times journalist Alexandra Penney in November 1977.  She wrote, "I was pleased by such touches as au courant Italian leather furniture."

In July 2013 Vivienne Westwood purchased 14 East 55th Street.  The fashion designer had established her business in London in 1971 and now had shops in Los Angles, Honolulu, and Paris.   A renovation to the storefront included a new marquee, and the brick was painted.  The upper floors were converted to two duplex apartments.

photographs by the author

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The Philip Rhinelander House - 16 East 55th Street

On April 15, 1904 the American Carbonator and American Bottler reported that "Max Schaefer, the oldest lager beer brewer in the United States, died at his residence, 16 East Fifty-fifth street, [on March 23rd] in his 85th year, and though possessed of wonderful vitality was unable to survive an attack of pneumonia, which developed on the previous Sunday."  The house in which the wealthy brewer died sat between Fifth and Madison Avenues, steps away from the elegant St. Regis Hotel still under construction.

Schaefer's son, Rudolph, sold the four-story house in December that year to developer Thomas J. McLaughlin for $73,000.  Within two months architect Clement B. Brun had filed plans for a modern "five and six-story" residence on the site.  The $30,000 construction costs brought the total outlay for McLaughlin to $3 million in today's money.

The structure was completed late in 1906.  Brun had created a red brick neo-Federal residence trimmed in limestone.  The stone-faced first floor sat above a short stoop flanked by hefty limestone newels.  An iron-railed balcony fronting two sets of French doors stretched the width of the house at the second floor.  The fifth floor took the form of a mansard roof with two stone dormers above the substantial stone cornice.  A partial sixth floor sat back, unseen from the street to preserve the proportions of the house.

An advertisement in the New York Evening Post on January 26, 1907 described a "New modern English basement house" with "Otis elevator."  The advertisement assured potential buyers that the St. Regis Hotel would be their only possible commercial neighbor:  "Restricted private house location in front, rear and sides."

No. 16 became home to Philip Jacob Rhinelander and his family.   The Rhinelanders were one of the oldest and wealthiest families in New York.  Philip's father, William, had grown up in the refined brick and marble mansion at No. 14 Washington Square and the family could trace its American roots to Philip J. Rhinelander who arrived in 1689.

Philip and his wife, the former Adelaide Kip, had four children, 11-year old Philip Kip, 9-year old Thomas Jackson Oakley, 7-year old Adelaide, and Leonard Kip, who was just 4.   The couple's first child, Isaac Leonard Kip Rhinelander, died in infancy in 1895.

Adelaide's pedigree was no less impressive than that of her husband.  She was the daughter of Dr. Isaac Lewis Kip and Cornelia Brady Kip and their first ancestor in America was Hendrick Hendricksen de Kype, who arrived in New Amsterdam around 1637.  Her grandfather, William V. Brady had been elected mayor of New York in 1847.

No. 16 (with the American flag) sat within a row of refined residences.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The family's summer home was in fashionable Tuxedo Lake, New York.  It was there on September 10, 1915 that an unspeakable tragedy occurred.  Adelaide was in her dressing room at around 1:00 that afternoon preparing to go out.  Her maid had just left the room.  The New York Times reported "Mrs. Rhinelander, wearing a loose-fitting house gown, was engaged in dressing her hair.  For this purpose she lighted the small spirit lamp that stood upon the dresser beside her."

The maid heard screams and rushed back.  Before she reached the room the screams had stopped.  The lamp had exploded, covering Adelaide with burning fuel.  The maid "found Mrs. Rhinelander unconscious, with her hair burned off and her clothing blackened by fire."  She had apparently first tried to tear her gown off, then wrapped herself in the bedspread to extinguish the flames.

Local physicians and the Rhinelander family doctor from New York City were summoned.  They worked over Adelaide throughout the night, but she died just after 1:00 on the morning of September 11.

Although he retained possession of the 55th Street house, Philip Rhinelander never returned following his wife's death.  He leased it within a few weeks to Mrs. John W. Blodgett; the following season he rented it to Harriet Alexander (who had grown up in the massive mansion at No. 4 West 58th Street, next door to Cornelius and Alice Vanderbilt).  Following her marriage to Winthrop Aldrich, head of Chase National Bank, that year the couple remained through 1917.  In 1918 it was home to Marshall Field, of Chicago, and his wife.

By then the neighborhood around No. 16 was growing increasingly commercial.  on June 28, 1919 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide advised that Rhinelander had leased the house to society milliner and dressmaker Peggy Hoyt.  

The article noted "its interior is done in French Renaissance, representing the best efforts of the late Stanford White, the marble staircase and the marble mantel in the foyer being particularly notable examples."  While the writer described the style accurately, it is doubtful that Stanford White worked on another architect's interiors at the height of his career; not to mention the fact that he died in June 1906 while the house was still under construction.

A Peggy Hoyt advertisement featured a sketch showing the original stoop and first floor appearance.

Peggy Hoyt worked with the original domestic configuration of the house for three years.  Then, in March 1922 Philip Rhinelander hired architect J. H. O'Brien to extend the building to the rear, remove walls and update the plumbing.

Peggy Hoyt posed for this drawing of her wearing one of her signature hats in 1922.  Women's Home Companion, September 1922 (copyright expired)

Peggy Hoyt was, in fact, Mrs. Aubrey L. Eads.  On February 18, 1922 the Watertown Daily Times said "She is a former society girl, who, when she had to earn her living in the business world, decided to attempt millinery designing.  Within two years the best dressed women in New York were buying their hats from Peggy Hoyt instead of from Paris.  Last season Mrs. Hoyt began to design costumes as well, and her success has already made her the supreme arbiter of American fashion."

The Peggy Hoyt showrooms retained much of the Rhinelander interiors--including the sweeping marble staircase.  from the collection of the Henry Ford Museum

Peggy Hoyt died in 1937 but her husband continued running the business; at least for a while.  He quickly made a decision which raised eyebrows.  On September 22 that year The Herald Statesman reported that he had hired notorious playboy Tommy Manville at the staggering salary of $175,000 per month by today's standards.  "The merry asbestos heir, who has millions of his own, said he was glad to get the job because the firm employed 36 models," said the article.

Eads put a positive spin on the appointment.  "Mr. Manville wants to go into a woman's business and he starts with us Monday...He is going to sell, do press agent work and act as a contact man.  He is really a swell egg."

Before very long Peggy Hoyt, Inc. was no more.  After submitting fake accounts for the company to the Madison Industrial Corporation and receiving $17,000 in fraudulent loans, the 47-year old Eads skipped town in 1940.  He was found in Hollywood and brought back to New York for trial.   He pleaded guilty on March 6, 1941.

When Eads bolted, the Rhinelander estate sold No. 16 to Prince and Princess Gourielli in the fall of 1940.  The New York Times noted on September 21, "The buyers will occupy the property after remodeling work is carried out."

The renovations were completed the following year and The New York Sun reported "An establishment where men may improve their looks--the Old World Apothecary Shop--opened in town today, but if you think it's designed for sissies you're mistaken."  Princess Gourielli, who was also known as Helena Rubenstein, explained,"There's a difference between beautifying men and grooming them.  We're going to groom them, scientifically."

The couple catered to women as well.  Their cosmetics included "herbal compounds of the ancient apothecaries and new pharmaceutical formulas."  Men were offered "lotion for rough hands, after-shaving talcum and a product to keep the hair in place."

The article noted "The three floor establishment at 16 East 55th street includes a main floor, a reproduction of a white marble-floored apothecary shop (complete with those globes of colored water so dear to all old-time drug stores) and a gift shop dominated by a display of the Princess's collection of early American glassware which is not for sale.  The men's scalp and hair clinic and the Men's Shop are on the second floor."

The "Old World Apothecary Shop" still retained the Rhinelander ceilings and plasterwork.  photograph by Gottscho-Schleisner, Inc. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The New York Times did not mention Prince Gourielli in reporting on the opening of "Mme. Helena Rubinstein's Old World apothecary shop" on September 21.  "The shop occupies the entire building on the site and has been decorated with works of art including American and Mexican primitive portraits, collections of glassware and other objects d'art."  The opening preview celebration included a benefit dinner.  "Five hundred persons are expected to attend the supper party," said The Times.

As apparel items were added to the offerings, the store became known as The House of Gourielli.  The Sun, May 16, 1946,

In 1947 the Gourellis leased the building to fashion designer Oleg Cassini.  He opened with a fashion show on September 16 that year.  The Times described the event saying "Emphasis was placed on the glamorous and picturesque in a collection of custom evening and cocktail fashions...This designer, who recently returned from Hollywood, used heavy satins in combinations of rich colors."  It was the first of many fashion shows to come in the Cassini salon over the next few years.

Then, in 1954 the Gourellis were back.  On November 16 The New York Times announced "A masculine version of that female sanctum, the beauty shop, will open today.  Called the Gourielli Men's Shop, it is behind a discreet town house facade at 16 East Fifty-fifth Street."

The store was more than a grooming spot, however, and offered clothing as well.  The newspaper said the apparel "is conservative, strongly influenced by Savile Row with a trend to the Edwardian style, with the exception of the 'bright but not loud' sports wear."

It was a male-only domain.  "Finished with a black and white marble floor and counters in the Roman bath tradition, the entrance lobby to the shop is the only room that women will be permitted to enter," said The Times article.

The four-chair barber shop area resembled a men's club with thick carpets, a ticker-tape machine, plus "an oxygen machine, to which men can resort for a pick-me-up, said to alleviate a hang-0ver."  

Shopping at Gourielli's was not an inexpensive venture.  In the summer of 1955 striped broadcloth shorts went for $12.50--about $117 today.

Gourielli's was replaced the following year by Richard Cheatham's "salon for gentlemen," which opened on December 3.   The New York Times said "It looks like a men's club" and like its predecessor, offered both apparel and grooming services.  Upstairs was a salon "where a man can get a haircut, shoeshine, steam bath, manicure or electric massage."

A press preview marked the opening of "a luxurious salon" in the house on January 3, 1961.  Michel Kazan had opened his first salon in Paris in 1934.  By now he was well-known among beauty editors and Manhattan's socially elite.

The Times said "Michel Kazan's new salon is a six-story house with magnificent decor that was supervised by Gene Moore."  Moore had left much of the Rhinelander interiors intact, as revealed in opening day photographs.

On April 22, 2017 the Anton Kern Gallery opened in the somewhat miraculously-surviving former mansion.   While the exterior of the Rhinelander house is remarkably intact, the interiors were less fortunate.

photographs by the author

The 1902 Babies' Hospital -- 135 East 55th Street

In the early 1880s Julia G. McNutt and her sister, Sara, had highly unusual professions, at least for women.  They were doctors.   Sara later remembered the comments made by Dr. Blackwell, who advised “There are a great many women and children needing good medical and surgical care.”  He said that if she excelled in her work, “you will soon have so much to do that you will not have time to wonder if some one else does not approve of women physicians.”

For six years Sara worked with children and women, acutely aware that there were no special facilities for infants and toddlers in the city.  In 1887 she took steps to found the Babies’ Hospital of the City of New York.  “It was thought that I would be able to take the medical care with my sister, Dr. Julia G. McNutt’s help,” she later recalled.

The fledgling institution would quickly encounter resistance.  In November 1887, with the backing of wealthy New Yorkers like Mrs. William H. Vanderbilt, Mrs. Ambrose C. Kingsland, Mrs. Abraham S. Hewitt and others, the four-story brownstone at the northeast corner of Lexington Avenue and 45^th Street was purchased from “Mr. Gleason” for $26,000.  The handsome dwelling was described by the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide which said “It has a bay window on each story, and is handsomely finished in hardwood trim.”

But one neighbor on the upscale block was infuriated.  Thomas B. Gifford went to court, contending “that the hospital was a nuisance in the neighborhood occupied almost entirely by private families.”  He pointed out that children with contagious diseases would be a threat to the block’s residents.

On June 18, 1888 Judge Beach, seemingly begrudgingly, ruled in favor of Gifford.  He began saying “The hospital is not a nuisance prima facie;” but admitted “The care of children in numbers bring danger to the youthful members of families living near.”  Most importantly, there was a covenant in the deed that restricted the property to residential use only.

The officers of the hospital did not wait for Judge Beach’s decision.  Because “many applications have been made for the admission of children, owing to the hot weather, during which the infant mortality is abnormally high,” they rented a house at No. 161 East 36^th Street.

It opened on June 16, 1888, two days before the court case ended.  There were 24 beds for the tiny patients.  Avoiding a second problem, the officers announced “that they do not intend to admit contagious dieaes, and ask for gifts of money and infants’ clothing.”

The McNutt sisters were unprepared for the response.  Sara told The Medical Record in December 1918, “The medical work, however, grew so rapidly, and encroached so much upon our private work, that we felt obliged to withdraw from the Babies’ Hospital a year after assisting in founding it.”

The hospital moved into two adjoining houses at the northeast corner of Lexington Avenue and 55th Street -- Directory of Social and Health Agencies of New York City, 1898 (copyright expired)

By 1891 the Hospital had moved to two four-story houses at No. 657 and 659 Lexington Avenue, at 55^th Street.  Three years earlier Dr. Allan M. Thomas and Dr. William C. Denning had developed a three-foot by three-foot “hatching cradle"—the precursor of today’s incubator.  The Babies’ Hospital owned the now-improved model when a tiny premature infant was brought in in January 1891.

The boy was born two months early on December 21, 1890.  His mother died in childbirth.  Had he been brought immediately to the Hospital, his chances would have been greatly improved.  But a well-meaning neighbor woman tried to nurture him for four weeks.  The New York Times advised “When she turned him over to the Babies’ Hospital he weighed but three pounds and was terribly emaciated.  It was decided at once that there was but one way to save the little fellow’s life, and that that was to put him into an incubator.”

The prognosis was cautiously optimistic.  The newspaper said on February 1, “It seems almost too much to believe, but there is a probability that the helpless, pitiable atom in the box may develop into a strong, handsome man.  The nurse says that her charge may some day be President of the United States.”

The Hospital’s valiant attempts proved futile.  Three days later the funeral of Baby Johnson, deemed by The Times “a mite of humanity,” was held in his father’s home on West 60^th Street.

Two weeks later Nell Nelson, writing for The Evening World, described the hospital.  “The ‘Babies’ Hospital of the City of New York’ is the only institution of its kind in the country, and as far as can be ascertained it is the only one in the world that is reserved for the exclusive accommodation of babies.”

Of the 214 babies that were admitted in 1890, 57 died.  Often the condition of the infants was such that there was no hope of survival when they arrived.  Nelson reported that on the day she arrived there were four “little Dutch cradles” in a bay window, one of which was empty.  That child’s body had just been removed.  She asked the nurse about the remaining three patients.

“Marasmus, and they cannot live.”

She was informed that another name for marasmus was “starvation.”  Further investigation explained the plights of the urchins.  In 23 cases the father was unemployed; in five he was sick or hospitalized; “in one case the father was in prison; in fifteen cases the mother was deserted by the father.”  Two mothers were insane; in six cases the mothers were dead and in another six cases she was too sick to care for the child.

The stifling heat of summer worsened the chances of the babies’ survival.  And so by the summer of 1894 the hospital acquired three cottages at Oceanic, New Jersey.   On July 14 that year The New York Times reported “The Babies’ Hospital, at 657 Lexington Avenue, has a deserted appearance.  There are reminiscences of babies everywhere in rows of little empty cribs, some of them with tiny baby caps, little gowns, and shoes lying around them, but not a baby is to be seen anywhere about the house.”

The entire population of the hospital had been removed to the cottages, “comfortable, sunny, and spacious, [where] the babies grow well and rosy under the influences of fresh air, skillful treatment, and nourishing food.”

The demand for admissions far exceeded the facilities of the old brownstone houses.  In 1901 the architectural firm of York & Sawyer was given the commission to replace the property with a modern hospital building.  The firm filed plans for the “7 and 8-story brick and stone” building in January 1902. The anticipated cost was $80,000—more than $2.25 million in 2016.

A lavish fund-raiser for the building was held in the home of Mrs. William Hamilton Harris at No. 306 West 75^th Street on the afternoon of December 12, 1902.  The wealthy socialites who attended were less interested in the fact that “tea will be served and Sherry’s Hungarians will play;” than in dolls.

Manhattan’s top dressmakers had designed gowns for the doll sale.  And the dolls were displayed in elaborate settings.  The New-York Tribune announced “The dolls will compete in a maypole dance, in coasting, tobogganing and other winter sports, and will exhibit their skill in housekeeping, in the drawing room, bedroom and other departments of the household.”  One especially-appropriate scene was “a ward in the ‘Babies’ Hospital,’ with babies and nurses in costume, with beds and furniture in proper form.”   The moneyed ladies were offered “a rare opportunity [to] purchase dolls, dressed in the most exquisite taste, for Christmas gifts.”

While demolition and construction were underway, the Babies’ Hospital moved temporarily into the Nursery and Child’s Hospital.   On May 12, 1902 the New-York Tribune published York & Sawyer’s sketch of the building and gave readers an idea of what was to come.

The basement would house a “disinfecting plant,” the laundry, kitchen and “servants’ dining room.”  A dispensary was located on the first floor, as were a room for the “clothing committee,” offices and a clinic.  The second floor was for staff.  It held the nurses’ dining room and quarters for the hospital board, the secretary and the matron.

Nurses and other staff lived on the third floor; while the upper floors contained wards and “model nurseries.”  On the top floor was a solarium—a must-have at the turn of the century when sunlight was believed to cure diseases like tuberculosis—and a laboratory.  The Tribune promised “The hospital will be fitted up in the most modern fashion.”

Following the hospital’s completion, the Real Estate Record & Guide pointed to it as an example of the renewed interest in brick as the major component in building design.  On February 14, 1903 the journal insisted “A distinct revival in favor of brick is observable” and pointed not only to the Babies’ Hospital, but to the new American Express building on Madison Avenue, and Public School No. 43 on Amsterdam Avenue, among others.

The original structure was just two bays wide on Lexington Avenue.  A woman, coincidentally, pushes her baby carriage at the corner.  Architectural Record 1903 (copyright expired)

Indeed, the building, completed in December 1902, strayed from the expected limestone or marble cladding of its Beaux Arts style.  The porticoed entrance, on 55^th Street, was located in the two-story rusticated stone base.  A lush frieze of draping garlands undulated over blank medallions below four stories of variegated brick that created a textured façade.  French-inspired cast iron balconies relieved the flat surface at the fourth floor.  Above the copper cornice, supported on scrolled stone brackets, the solarium and laboratory were nearly hidden from street view.

A few weeks after the hospital moved in, it hosted the annual reception of the Board of Managers on January 16, 1903.  “The hospital will be open for inspection,” said the New-York Tribune, adding it “is fully equipped with the most approved appliances…The entire building is admirably arranged for its uses, and those who will visit it for the first time next Friday have a pleasure in store.”

At the reception meeting it was announced that Mr. and Mrs. John Sherman Hoyt had promised $500 a year to extend the hospital’s work.  The money would be used to provide home visitations, highly important because the condition of the infants often digressed when returned to their tenement homes.

“It has always distressed us to send the patients back into their often miserable homes, there to continue their downward career,” explained Dr. L. Emmett Holt.

Within only six years the facility was too small for its ever-growing work.  In September 1909 York & Sawyer filed plans for a $10,000, eight-story annex to house the dispensary and nurses’ dormitory.  The resulting addition was seamless; discernible only by the closest scrutiny.

The pitiable circumstances of the parents who entrusted their children to the Babies’ Hospital was evidenced when a woman collapsed in the doorway of the East 51^st Street police station on January 29, 1910.  Mrs. Gertrude Lough was just 20 years old.  Her husband, Thomas, was an unemployed carpenter who had not been able to find work for several months.

Unable to pay their rent, the couple and their five-month old baby boy, Harry, had been evicted from their apartment three weeks earlier.  The landlord took pity and allowed them to live in a vacant building on East 50^th Street, as “caretakers.”   They had a place to live, but no food.

When Gertrude Lough was revived, she told police “they had had nothing to eat since Thursday, when they had a few crumbs of bread.”  The week before Thomas found an odd job and earned $5.  That was spent on milk for the baby and doctor bills and medicine for him.

A doctor diagnosed the woman with “starvation and fatigue.”  Dr. Arnold went to the Loughs’ rooms where he found Thomas holding the malnourished baby.   Harry was removed at once to the Babies’ Hospital.

In the meantime, back at the station house the police began passing a hat.  Four prisoners, who overheard Gertrude’s story, asked to contribute as well.  The men raised $15.  And Dr. Arnold offered to try to find work for Thomas Lough.

The heading bond brickwork results in a tapestry-like appearance.

Perhaps the most publicized patient of the Babies’ Hospital was little Mary Margaret Roberts.  She was born deformed on November 23, 1915 with an open spine, and was paralyzed from the waist down.  Her mother, in serious condition following the birth, was not informed of her baby’s condition for fear of the shock the news would bring.

Mary Margaret was brought to the hospital immediately after birth.  When her father, Joseph E. Roberts, and grandmother, Mrs. Margaret Branley, realized the condition of the girl, they insisted that she be allowed to die, “rather than live hopelessly deformed.”

“But they have been overruled by Dr. Maurice Rosenberg,” reported The Evening World the following day.  “Officials of the hospital, in a statement issued to-day, also let it be known that every effort would be made to prolong the life of Baby Roberts.”

But when Chicago surgeon, Dr. Harry J. Halseiden, was asked to travel to New York to perform the operation, he refused.  The New York Times said he felt “that science should not be employed to prolong the life of a monstrosity.”

With no surgeons with Halseiden’s expertise available, the doctors of the Babies’ Hospital were forced to capitulate.  On November 25 it was announced that the infant “will be permitted to die a natural death, even though an operation might prolong her life.”

The case received national press attention.  Dr. Harry Halseiden was, at times, depicted as a heartless cad.  In all instances, the doctors at Babies’ Hospital were shown to be disheartened at their forced decision.   Finally, on December 3, 1915, the New-York Tribune ran the headline “Baby’s Problem Solved by Death.”

During "Baby Week" in March 1916 the Babies’ Hospital published daily tips for mothers in the newspapers.  On March 9 the tip was “Babies get terrible whacks, some mothers forget them—stuff a ‘pacifier’ into their mouths—the worst thing ever made for a baby—and then they wonder why remonstrance follows later on.”

Children gather around a Christmas tree in 1926.  Columbia University Medical Collect Archives

In 1929 the Babies’ Hospital was absorbed by Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center and left Lexington Avenue.  The building at Lexington and 55^th Street was converted to offices and retail spaces were carved into the street level.  At some point the lovely cast iron balconies were removed; but otherwise the structure, with its tapestry of brick, survives relatively unchanged.

photographs by the author

The 1927 Ziegler Mansion -- No. 116 E. 55th Street

photo by Alice Lum

By the 1880s the block of East 55^th Street between Lexington and Park Avenues was lined with brownstone rowhouses.  Built by developers, they were intended for financially-comfortable merchant-class families.  Nevertheless, the neighborhood carried the stigma of being on the east—or wrong—side of Park Avenue.

That would all change by the turn of the century when the train tracks down Park Avenue to Grand Central Depot were lowered and covered over.  With the trains that once clattered along the avenue belching smoke and soot now buried, the fashionable neighborhoods spread eastward.

William Havemeyer owned the three-story brownstone homes at Nos. 116 and 118 East 55^th Street at the time.  On March 30, 1906 he sold them both—No. 116 to Robert B. Roosevelt, Jr., the cousin of President Theodore Roosevelt; and No. 118 to Charles M. Brookes.  The dwellings were slightly narrower than most, each 18.9 feet across.

The outdated houses would suffer some indignation in the ensuing years.  By 1919 No. 116 was listed as “apartments;” although the residents were decidedly upper crust.   Dr. and Mrs. Carleton Simon lived here with their daughter Rosa Bonheur Simon at the time. 

But as wealthy New Yorkers took over the Victorian houses in the first two decades of the 20^th century, many either razed them and rebuilt, or had them remodeled into stylish, up-to-date mansions.  The trend had already transformed several of the old brownstones on the block by the first years of the 1920s.

The fate of Nos. 116 and 118 East 55^th Street would soon be decided by William Ziegler, Jr.  Born William Conrad Brandt in Iowa, he was later adopted by his uncle, a founder of the Royal Baking Powder Company, William Ziegler, and his wife the former Electa Matilda Curtis.  Electra already had a son, Charles, from her first marriage to Edward R. Gamble.  Young Charles had lost his sight in a boyhood accident.

When the elder Ziegler died in 1905 the 13-year old, now renamed William Ziegler, Jr., inherited between $16 and $20 million.  His step-brother Charles died in 1917, prompting life-long philanthropies for the blind on the part of both Electra and William Jr.

William married had married Gladys Virginia Watson on December 11, 1912 and the couple had two children.  The marriage ended on September 9, 1926 when Gladys obtained a divorce in Paris.  By then William had already purchased the two old brownstones at Nos. 116 and 118 East 55^th Street and commissioned William L. Bottomley to design a single 37-and-a-half-foot wide mansion on the site.

William acquired the houses in August 1926 and construction began in October.  Less than three months later, on January 5, 1927, he married Helen Martin Murphy in a ceremony that The New York Times said “foils church crowd.”  The wedding was announced to be held in the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church and the sanctuary was filled with floral decorations.  The Times reported that when photographers and reporters arrived, “it was found that the marriage of the couple had quietly taken place in the apartment of the bride’s parents at the Plaza.”

The newlyweds steamed off to Europe on the Berengaria; but they planned “to return in the spring in time for the polo season at Aiken, S.C.,” said the newspaper.  That was expected for, as The Times noted, “Mr. Ziegler is keenly interested in racing and polo.  He owns one of the finest collections of hunting dogs in the country and is a well known exhibitor of show horses.  He has a fine racing stable.”

While the couple was away, construction on their new mansion continued.  Bottomley had already established a reputation for creating neo-Georgian style homes for the wealthy.  Much of his inspiration, experts believe, was drawn from 18^th century plantation homes in Virginia.  The Ziegler mansion would exemplify his brilliant command and understanding of the period.

William and Helen Ziegler moved into the completed house in November 1927.  Four stories high it was clad in Flemish bond red brick; the burned headers of which gave the impression of age.  A dramatic bowed arch pediment over the entrance was framed by the piers of the grand brick and iron fence, topped with cast iron eagles.  Splayed lintels and quoins were executed in brick, rather than the more expected limestone or marble; and a steep slate-tiled roof was punctured by dormers and half-circle windows.

photo by Alice Lu

The historic motif was carried on throughout the house with painted paneling, carved overmantels and doorways, painted scenic wallpapers, and an elegantly curving staircase.

Above, the Ziegler living room with its massive crystal chandeliers and carved ceiling.  Below, the dining room.  photographs by Samuel H. Gottscho, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWTE5IV0&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

Seven months later, in June 1928, the family was enlarged with the addition of William Ziegler, 3^rd.  Within a few years three daughters, Helen, Elizabeth and Barbara, would be born.  The family summered in their estate at Great Island, in Norton, Connecticut.

Above:  The gracefully curved staircase featured beautifully turned balusters.  Below:  The second floor hall, with painted scenes within the paneling, opened onto the dining room.  photographs by Samuel H. Gottscho, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWTE5IV0&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

Ziegler’s already-significant fortune increased with the death of Electa Matilda Ziegler on September 1, 1932.  She was remembered not for her lavish entertaining, but for her indefatigable work for the blind—especially the Matilida Ziegler Magazine for the Blind, printed in braile which was sent free of charge to blind persons.  At the time of her death it had a readership of 15,000 and Electa Ziegler had paid entirely for its publication of its 22 years existence. 

William would continue his adopted mother’s work.  He was president of the American Foundation for the Blind and of the American Foundation for the Overseas Blind.  He was also president of the E. Matilda Ziegler Foundation for the Blind which had been established by Electa.  He would sit on the boards of the National Industries for the Blind, the Society for the Prevention of Blindness and the Eye-Bank for Sight Restoration, Inc.

Helen Ziegler opened the rear of her house for annual Garden Tours.  photograph by Samuel H. Gottscho, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWTE5IV0&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

Although the Ziegler mansion saw decades of refined entertainments, the supper dance for Helen’s debut in December 1949 was held in the ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton.  Decorated white trees “transformed the ballroom into a holiday setting for the party,” noted The Times.

Half a century ago the Ziegler mansion looked no different than it does today.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWTE5IV0&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

 William Ziegler’s health declined in the 1950s and, on March 3, 1958, he died in the house after a long illness.  He was 66 years old.  Five months later Helen Ziegler sold the house to Welton Becker & Associate, an architectural and engineering firm.  On reporting the sale The New York Times said “It stands behind a high iron fence and brick pilasters on which rest two cast-iron eagles with outspread wings.  Pink and tan marble is used on the four-story circular staircase and the entrance foyer.”

The grand cast iron eagles survive outside the Ziegler mansion -- photo by Alice Lum

The new owners announced their intentions to “convert the interior of the red brick Colonial house by Oct. 1 into an office building for use as its headquarters.”

It was the end of the era of elegant dinners and refined entertainments in the gracious mansion and the beginning of a series of commercial uses.  Four years later, in 1962, the Radio Advertising Bureau purchased the house for its offices.  From 1969 to 1986 it was headquarters of the Allied Bank International; then Ancla Investments, a subsidiary of Banco Bilbao Vizcaya.

In March 2001 it was sold yet again—this time being purchased by the Teachers Insurance and Annuity Association.  Finally, it became the SUNY Globe Center, part of the extensive State University of New York venues.

At least some of the interiors, today, are decidedly less elegant than when the Zieglers moved out.  http://levin.suny.edu/about/directions.cfm

Through all of its many uses since the Ziegler family moved out, the mansion has survived unaltered on the exterior.  One of the last grand private homes to be build in Manhattan, it is a striking and rare relic of last glamorous years before the Great Depression.