The 1907 66th Street Studio Building - 131-135 East 66th Street

 

photograph by Gryffindor

The first studio building in America--a structure designed especially as working spaces and residences of artists--was the 1858 Tenth Street Studios in Greenwich Village.  The concept gained traction at the turn of the century, when upscale buildings were erected with soaring studio spaces flooded with natural light from vast windows.  In 1905, a syndicate including artist Walter Russell laid plans for a sumptuous studio building at the northeast corner of 66th Street and Lexington Avenue.

Interestingly, the group, called the East 66th Street Studio Building, hired the architectural firm of Pollard & Steinam and B. Hustace Simonson to prepare the plans.  But at some point, Charles A. Platt took over the project.  And he was much more than a hired architect; he was an investor.  Upon the building's completion, an announcement in The New York Times on December 5, 1907, noted that the corporate name of the East 66th Street Studio Building had been changed to Nos. 131-135 East 66th Street.  It was signed by "Charles A. Platt, President."

from Monograph of the Work of Charles A. Platt, 1913 (copyright expired)

The 11-story, Renaissance Revival style structure was faced in limestone.  An urban palazzo, it featured two bold and elegant entrances with imposing broken pediments atop double-height Scamozzi columns.  Divided into four horizonal sections by bandcourses and intermediate cornices, the building is crowned by a dentiled and modillioned cornice that the Landmarks Preservation Commission has called, "one of the finest in the city."

from Monograph of the Work of Charles A. Platt, 1913 (copyright expired)

An advertisement called the 10- and 12-room suites, "houses within [an] apartment house."  The ad described the "smaller 4 and 7 room suites" as being "quite as desirable in their own way."  The building had both cooperative apartments and rentals.  Among the initial residents of 131 East 66th Street were its designer, Charles A. Platt, and his second wife, Eleanor Hardy Bunker.  The couple's summer home was in Cornish, New Hampshire.

The soaring studios with their nearly double-height windows were on the north side of the building, unseen from the street.  They attracted artists like Elizabeth Gowdy Baker, who held an exhibition of "portraits in aquarelle," as described by The New York Times on April 1, 1914, in her studio through April 4 that year.  Resident Henriette A. Clark exhibited at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts the following year.

Two views of Charles A. Platt's studio.  from Monograph of the Work of Charles A. Platt, 1913 (copyright expired)

The bachelor artist William Howard Hart was an early resident.  The 50-year-old landscape artist hosted a "soiree Francaise" in his studio on the night of January 27, 1913.  The Sun reported that Le Peril Jaune "was acted by Mme. Henri Goiran, wife of the French Consul in New York; Mlle. de Sombreuil, Reginald Francklyn and Rene Wildenstein."  Additionally, "Mlle. Regnier and Gerald Onativia gave Louis XV dances in costume, and afterward there was general dancing."

Platt was not the only architect in 131 East 66th Street.  William Emerson was here by 1913 when he and the recently widowed Frances Hillard White Moffat surprised society by marrying.  George Barclay Moffat, who was a Harvard classmate of Emerson, died on December 4, 1911.  The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, on January 15, 1913, said that Frances "had been a widow only a little more than a year" and explained, "the marriage is the culmination of a friendship of more than ten years' standing."

William Emerson, from the Century Association Archives.

Pianist, conductor and composer Ernest Henry Schelling and his wife, Lucie Howe Draper, lived here at the time.  Born in New Jersey in 1876, Schelling was a child prodigy, making his debut at the Academy of Music in Philadelphia at the age of four.  In 1896, at the age of 20, he began studying with Ignace Paderewski.  The teacher-pupil relationship grew to a life-long friendship.

On April 29, 1915, The Sun reported, "Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Schelling gave a dinner and reception last evening at their home, 131 East Sixty-sixth street, for Ignace Paderewski, the pianist."  The guest list included not only figures from the musical world, but from Manhattan's social elite, including the Harry Harkness Flaglers, Mrs. Henry A. Alexander, and Alessandro Fabbri.

Artist and dealer Alice Creelman and her husband, journalist James Creelman, were also residents of 131 East 66th Street.  On the afternoon of December 14, 1916, Alice hosted a "private benefit entertainment" in her apartment at which Augusta C. Gaynor sang.  Her appearance was notable.  The previous day she had announced, according to The New York Times, that she, "is shortly to make her debut as a professional concert singer."  She was the widow of assassinated New York City Mayor William J. Gaynor, who had died three years earlier.

Interestingly, four years later Augusta Gaynor moved temporarily into the Creelman's 131 East 66th Street suite.  She announced the engagement of the youngest of her seven children, Ruth Merritt Gaynor, here on December 9, 1920.  

And the following month, on January 15, 1921, Brooklyn Life reported, "The marriage of Mrs. Helen Gaynor Bedford, daughter of Mrs. William J. Gaynor and the late Mayor Gaynor, and Mr. Whitney Kernochan, son of Mr. and Mrs. J. Frederick Kernochan...took place Friday afternoon, January seventh, at the home of Mr. and Mrs. James Creelman."

The Platts' library featured herringbone floors, an antique mantel and a stenciled, beamed ceiling.  from Monograph of the Work of Charles A. Platt, 1913 (copyright expired)

In the meantime, on February 24, 1918, the New York Herald reported, "Mr. and Mrs. Chandler P. Anderson have returned to 135 East Sixty-sixth street from a visit to the Spanish Ambassador and Mme. Riano in Washington, D.C."  Chandler Parsons Anderson was the first Counselor of the United States Department of State and his wife was the former Harriet S. Ward.  During World War I, he served as special counsel on international affairs within the War Industries Board.  The couple's summer home was in York Harbor, Maine. 

Chandler Parsons Anderson, from the collection of the Library of Congress

A prominent couple in 135 East 66th Street were historian Henry Osborn Taylor and his wife, the former Julia Isham.  Born in 1857, Taylor was an authority on ancient literature and culture.  He and Julia were married in 1905.  Their apartment included architectural pieces imported from Europe, including "a pair of old Italian doors of bronze and wood, and an old Italian stone mantelpiece," as later mentioned by The New York Times.

Henry Osborn Taylor, from the 1917 Harvard College Class of 1878 Secretary's Report (copyright expired)

When Julia's brother, artist and writer Samuel Isham, died in 1914, leaving an estate equal to more than $15.7 million in 2024, he bequeathed all his "paintings, family silver, plate and bric-a-brac to his sister," as reported by The Sun on June 21.  She also received "$250,000 outright."  That amount would translate to $7.86 million today.  Included in the artwork was a collection of Japanese prints that Julia donated to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  In appreciation, she was made a Fellow in Perpetuity.

And when she inherited what a century earlier had been the Isham family's country estate at 212th Street and Broadway, she donated it to the city.  It became Isham Park.

Julia Isham Taylor died in the apartment on March 6, 1939 at the age of 74.  Henry Osborn Taylor survived her by two years, dying here on April 11, 1941 at the age of 84.  He left the bulk of his estate to Harvard College "to help increase the salaries of the professors, teachers and instructors."

On September 8, 1939, The New York Times reported that T. G. MacKenzie and his wife, Ethel Maude, had taken "a nine-room duplex apartment."  The couple's quiet life here would be a welcomed change.  Thomas George MacKenzie was a mining engineer.  Born in Nova Scotia in 1882, his career had taken him from Cape Breton, Canada to Mexico in 1912.  In 1924, he was taken hostage by Hipolito Villa, brother of Pancho Villa.  He was held for three months before escaping.  Maude had worked tirelessly in the meantime to try to achieve his release.

In 1924, Charles A. Platt was selected to design the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.  It would be one of his last major commissions.  He died at the Cornish, New Hampshire estate on September 12, 1933 at the age of 71.  Eleanor Hardy Platt survived him by two decades, dying in Cornish on November 26, 1953 at the age of 84.

Hildreth Meière lived here at mid-century.  The most prominent muralist of her day, she was highly instrumental in introducing Art Deco to America.  She was responsible for, among other important works, the striking red mosaic walls at One Wall Street, the colorful figurative roundels of Radio City Music Hall, and The Pillars of Hercules, now in the Center of Hellenic Studies in Washington, D.C.

A fascinating resident was Gretchen Green, whose 1936 autobiography The Whole World and Company chronicled her astounding career.  The daughter of an itinerant preacher, she studied at the College Settlement in Philadelphia and the New York School of Philanthropy.  Her varied positions included a police officer and welfare director in Boise, Idaho, and a worker at Ellis Island helping incoming immigrants.  She worked in Moracco, ran a women's clinic at Tagore University in India, and operated tea houses in Venice.

During World War II, Green ran a Camel Corps in Africa for General Archibald Wavell, and worked in Royal Air Force Clubs in Britain and in Bahrein.  In New York, she opened Miss Green's Canteen for servicemen and furnished the Lady Halifax Club at 587 Fifth Avenue, for British servicewomen stationed here.  Following the war, her work in helping Britain rebuild earned her membership into the Order of the British Empire.  She was, as well, a founder of the School for Seeing-Eye Dogs.  

At the beginning of the 21st century, Robert and Blaine Trump purchased and combined three units--a duplex and two one-bedroom apartments--into a 6,500-square-foot residence.  They hired designer Greg Jordan to plan the space.  In addition to the $8 million they spent on the apartments, by May 2006 they had spent an additional $1.5 million in design and construction costs.  Then, with the apartments gutted, they separated after two decades of marriage.  They put the "far-from-finished triplex," as described by William Neuman of The New York Times on May 14, 2006, on the market for $17 million.

image via compass.com

Henry Hope Reed of the Municipal Art Society testified during the Landmark Preservation Commission's hearings in 1970 regarding the designating of 131-135 East 66th Street as an individual landmark.  He described the structure as "one of the finest" of the New York apartment houses of "the American Renaissance."

The Lost Hotel Marie Antoinette - Broadway and 66th Street

 

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

In 1893, William L. Flanagan, the president and director of the H. Clausen & Son Brewing Company, decided to diversify.  He 

hired J. Munkowitz to design a seven-story residential hotel on the northwest corner of Broadway and 66th Street.  The architect's subdued Renaissance Revival style design exuded taste and dignity.  Faced in limestone, its Broadway corner was gently rounded, and the decoration of its midsection was limited to bandcourses and occasional Renaissance-inspired pediments over selected openings.  Delicate carved swags hung from above the seventh-floor windows like sugary cake decorations.  A stone balustrade sat atop the structure like a tiara.  Construction cost Flanagan $225,000, or about $8.25 million in 2024.

Upon the Hotel Marie Antoinette's completion, on October 28, 1894, the New-York Tribune compared it to "some beautiful building from the White City of the [Chicago] World's Fair."  The article said, "The proportions of the building are such as to give the effect of height, without appearing to scrape the sky...It is massive and substantial."

Munkowitz's restrained exterior belied the sumptuous French interiors.  The New-York Tribune commented on wrought iron entrance doors, "the like of which are not to be found in New-York, except, perhaps, on the residence of Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt."  This was the first time wrought iron doors had been used in a hotel building in the United States, said the article.  "Wrought-iron doors are enormously more expensive than the ordinary cast-iron affairs...But their value in the Hotel Marie Antoinette, besides being beautiful, is real."  Cast iron, said the article, was "quite below the standard of Hotel Marie Antoinette taste."

A liveried doorman is poised to open one of the 14 wrought iron doors.  photo by Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

The journalist was awed with the public rooms, modeled after Versailles.  "It is obvious at a glance that the most lavish expenditure had been made," said the article.  It described the main dining room, first asking rhetorically, "Is there just such a room in all New-York, and, indeed, anywhere?"

A room neither too square nor too long, supported by columns of colored alabaster, heightened with gold Corinthian capitals.  The color scale of the walls, modulating through successive tints of rose and crush strawberry, suitably harmonized from ceiling to floor, diffused the brightest kind of rose-colored light suddenly relieved by the rich dark green of the portieres which shut off the street.  These portieres, serving in themselves an eminently useful purpose, also suggest and introduce the contrast between the dining-room and the drawing-room, which has already been given a name--the Oak Room.

Frescoed panels grace the ceiling of the restaurant, which was decidedly smaller than the dining room.    photo by Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

The Oak Room was paneled in carved antique oak under an immense stained-glass dome.  Flanagan had purchased its antique furnishings in Europe.  "An enormous rug covers the centre of the polished floor, old Venetian marriage chests serve as wood boxes, and a comfortable but enormous settee of carved oak and deep-blue tapestry invites the visitor."  The New-York Tribune predicted, "The Oak Room of the Hotel Antoinette will long be one of the things to be seen in New-York.  Every piece is an heirloom."

The drawing room, or Oak Room.  photo by Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

The article made note of an innovation in the restaurant, a space more intimate than the dining room.  It was "the introduction of shaded electric lamps, coming up through the middle of each table, like flowers of light."

There were 62 apartments in the building.  "The rooms are large, and each suite is provided with a private hall, with the most luxurious kind of a bathroom."  The general floor plan provided each apartment with a large drawing room, two bedrooms and a bathroom.  The colors were selected from the Petit Trianon at Versailles.  "Mahogany and rosewood are the prevailing woods used," said the New-York Tribune.  All rooms had both electricity and gas (electricity was not especially reliable in 1894).  There were a few transient apartments, as well, which rented for $2.50 per night (about $90 today).

The suites' drawing rooms--from the ornate ceiling plasterwork to the furnishings--were decidedly French in style.   photo by Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

Among the earliest residents were theatrical producer, director, playwright and impresario David Belasco and his wife, the former Cecilia Loverich.  Another celebrated theatrical figure at the Hotel Marie Antoinette was Sarah Bernhardt.  The internationally famous actress made it her home whenever she was in New York. 

Edgar Van Etten, the general superintendent of the operating department of the New York Central Railroad, was an initial resident.  He suffered a most embarrassing situation on October 10, 1894.  He and one of the railroad's vice-presidents, H. Walter Webb, had made an inspection trip along the line, and were on their way back to the city.  They went to bed at 11:00.  A porter packed Van Etten's waistcoat, containing his gold watch and most of his money, into a small locker, and laid his trousers out on a chair of the private car.

At 7:00 a.m., when the train pulled into Scarborough, Van Etten "jumped out of bed in a hurry and called for his clothing," reported The Sun.  The porter returned to report that his trousers had been stolen.  Also taken were his satchel and a dressing case.  Because of Van Etten's girth, no one on the train had a pair of trousers that would fit him.  He was given a blanket "to wear."

When the train arrived at Grand Central Station, Van Etten was unable to leave.  The Sun reported that a porter rushed to the Hotel Marie Antoinette in a cab "and corralled a pair of trousers of the required size."  The article said, "There was considerable merriment when the cause for the order became known to Mr. Van Etten's friends."

 photos by Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

In 1901 William L. Flanagan divested himself of his real estate holdings, transferring the title to the Hotel Marie Antoinette to his sister, and selling the abutting, vacant lot on the southwest corner of Broadway and 67th Street.  The following year the Boston Home Journal reported that a 12-story hotel was to be erected on that site.  Among those leasing the proposed hotel, said the article, was Albert R. Keen, the manager of the Marie Antoinette.

The new hotel opened on April 15, 1903.  Despite its being larger and showier, Keen marketed it as an annex to the Hotel Marie Antoinette, causing understandable confusion for years.

The new hotel, which dwarfed the Marie Antoinette, was nevertheless marketed as an annex.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

Sarah Bernhardt was not confused, however, and continued to return to the original Marie Antoinette.  She granted an interview to Nixola Greeley-Smith of The Evening World on December 1, 1912.  The actress commented on the difference between the emancipated American woman and her French counterpart.

American women are monarchs.  French women are martyrs, martyrs to love, it is said that in France woman is a martyr to the family, while in America the family is a martyr to woman.  But I do not agree with this epigram.  I find in your women everything to admire and to envy.

In November 1926, the lease of the Marie Antoinette was taken over by Joseph E. Goulet.  The New York Times reported, "Mr. Goulet intends to make extensive alterations in order to make this hotel of the standard of the hotels he has conducted for the last sixteen years on Broadway."  A years-long court battle between over which hotel--the north or south--could continue using the name Marie Antoinette ended in 1929.  The newer hotel became the Hotel Dauphine.

The staff was outfitted in costumes of the court of Queen Marie Antoinette.   photo by Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

In October 1926, Cecilia Loverich Belasco died.  The memories of their many years together in the Hotel Marie Antoinette made continuing to occupy their apartment impossible for David Belasco.  He broke his lease, writing to the management in part:

The thought never occurred to me that I should be leaving the Marie Antoinette, but then the thought never occurred to me that death would interrupt the union between me and Mrs. Belasco, and since that has taken place, I have suffered agony whenever I have entered our rooms, with their constant reminder of her every night.  I thought I could promise to endure it, but it was too much for me.

Despite Belasco's long-term residency and his heart-felt explanation, the management sued him for the $1,667 rent left on his lease.

The Broadway side of the Marie Antoinette was given an Art Moderne ground floor lined with stores sometime in 1936.  The Parisian-style wrought iron entrance doors were scrapped as streamlined storefronts replaced the limestone ground floor.  Inside, the Versailles-inspired rooms were stripped bare, the floors replaced with terrazzo or tile, the paneling given over to bare plaster.

A jazzy Art Moderne marquee can be seen behind the subway kiosk.  photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the New York Public Library

It all ended in 1963, when the Hotel Marie Antoinette was demolished as part of the vast Lincoln Square urban renewal project.  A 32-floor mixed use structure occupies the site today.

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Paul Manship's Lehman Gates - Central Park

 

On June 16, 1960, The New York Times reported that Governor Herbert H. Lehman and his wife, Edith Louise Altschul, had donated $500,000 "to build a children's zoo in Central Park."  The gift was in celebration of the Lehmans' 50th wedding anniversary.  The article said that Park Commissioner Newbold Morris, "had no hesitancy in accepting the gift.  He was sure there would be no opposition to the children's zoo as an 'encroachment'" on Central Park.  

Ironically, were they still around, Park architects Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux would have most heartily opposed the project.  From the beginning, they had denounced the idea of a zoo, charging that one would upset the natural beauty of the park.  (The gradual establishment of the Menagerie behind the Armory beginning in 1858 was a fluke, begun when a lost bear cub was left there.)

The New York Times remarked that the architects of the Children's Zoo project, Aymar Embury 2d and Edward C. Embury, "envision an ornamental gateway leading down a landscaped, tree-shaded path to low, glass-walled, small-scale buildings."  It was the one element of the project they would not design.  Instead, sculptor Paul Manship took charge of what would be known as the Lehman Gates.

Manship's most notable work in Manhattan is his gilded 1934 Prometheus above the lower plaza of Rockefeller Central.  The Lehman Gates would not be the first project he created for Central Park.  In 1932 he designed the bronze Art Deco sundial for the Waldo M. Hutchins Bench, and in 1953 created The Osborn Gates to the Osborn playground (today's Ancient Playground). 

The Waldo M. Hutchins Bench sundial.

The design of the Lehman Gates was patently Paul Manship.  Harking to his earlier Art Deco works, they consist of three granite plinths connected by swirling bronze stylized vines.  Two small boy figures sit upon the outer gateposts playing flutes while above the center post an older youth frolics with goats.

The Children's Zoo opened on September 28, 1961.  The New York Times reported, "The world of Hansel and Gretel, the Three Little Pigs and the White Rabbit will come alive today in Central Park."  The sophisticated Lehman Gates were noticeably unlike the zoo proper.  The New York Times article called the zoo a "Disneyland-like scene," including a "walk-in whale," Noah's Ark, and Hansel and Gretel's candy cane cottage.

Exactly three decades after the facility opened, in 1991 padlocks were placed on the Lehman Gates.  The Children's Zoo was closed after having "degenerated into what was widely considered a pitiful aggregation of overcrowded animals," according to The New York Times.  Four years later, on September 28, 1995, the newspaper said the padlocked one-acre site was "a repository of beer cans and rotting kitsch."

At the time of the article, the Wildlife Conservation Society had announced plans to replace the Children's Zoo with a modern facility.  It sparked backlash from preservationist groups like the Friends of the Upper East Side Historic Districts who pushed to save and restore the fairy tale based buildings.  They called the structures like the candy cane cottage and the Three Little Pigs' houses "arty treasures."  Unmoved, the Wildlife Conservation Society described Noah's Ark and Jonah the Whale as involving "inappropriate religious messages," said the old zoo's "storybook ways" of exhibiting animals did not promote conservation, and, finally, asserted that "restoration would be too costly."

It was a drawn-out and somewhat bitter battle that the preservationists lost.  On August 11, 1996, The New York Times reported that "hundreds of New Yorkers streamed into Central Park's Children's Zoo yesterday to say goodbye to an old friend."  They were allowed three hours to visit, after which the Lehman Gates were again shut and workmen began demolition on the degraded buildings.

Not one person had ever suggested that the Lehman Gates should be part of the process.  Manship's handsome sculptural portal transcended the debate.  But it would not be long before it did play a significant role in another conflict.

Edith and Henry Everett donated $3 million--half the cost of the new zoo.  But then, in the spring of 1997, the Everetts and the Wildlife Conservation Society became deadlocked over a single detail.  On May 15, The New York Times reported, "A 36-year-old granite gate at the zoo entrance turned out to be the lightning rod in the dispute."  The article said, "Last month, the New York City Art Commission approved a plan to place a plaque commemorating the Everetts' gift on the center pier of the gateway, with two smaller plaques on the flanking piers, one noting the Lehmans' gift of the gateway and the other noting the Lehmans' gift of the original zoo."  The Everetts' balked at the Lehmans' names being there at all.  

"We're not talking about neon lights," Edith Everett told a reporter.  "Be that as it may, they have the final word."

Reba White Williams of the Art Commission, who had presided over the negotiations, explained, "We can't go around erasing the past.  What does this say to donors, if you can't respect the history of a gift?"

The Everetts withdrew their donation, Edith telling a reporter from The New York Times, "We'll take our $3 million someplace else that will be happy to have it."

Coincidentally or not, days earlier the Everetts had openly denounced the appointment of James S. Tisch as the head of the UJA-Federation of New York, calling him "unfit to head the giant charity."  Now, a week after they recalled their funding, The New York Times reported that the Tisch Foundation had agreed "to replace the donation and add up to $1.5 million more."  Allison Power of the Wildlife Conservation Society announced, "the new zoo will be called the Tisch Children's Zoo, not the Everett Children's Zoo.

Seemingly innocent to fiery controversy, Paul Manship's bronze boys continue to play their flutes and frolic with goats as visitors stream into the zoo below.  The Lehman Gates comprise a striking civic artwork within the park.

 photographs by the author

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The Arthur W. Popper House - 48 East 66th Street

Real Estate operator Ira E. Doying erected ten matching four-story brownstones on East 66th Street, between Madison and Park Avenues, between 1877 and '78.  Designed in the neo-Grec style by J. H. Valentine, the 20-foot wide homes were intended for well-to-do owners.

No. 48 was purchased by Floyd Clarkson, whose ancestor, Matthew Clarkson, was appointed Secretary of the Province of New York in 1658 by William and Mary, and whose grandfather, William Clarkson, was a signer of the Declaration of Independence.  His impressive lineage included Verplancks, Van Courtlandts, Barclays and Schuylers.  

Born in New York City in 1831 and educated in private schools, Clarkson married Harriet A. Van Boskerck in March 1857.  He closed his hardware business to fight in the Civil War, later returning to New York with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel.  He and Harriet had ten children, five sons and two daughters of which grew to maturity.  Clarkson's significant fortune was garnered through his real estate business, Floyd Clarkson & Son, and as president of the Riverside Bank.

Col. Floyd Clarkson - Buffalo Evening News, February 27, 1890 (copyright expired

The 66th Street house was the scene of an impressive military funeral on February 4, 1883.  Clarkson's brother, Lieutenant Samuel Floyd Clarkson of the United States Navy, died of typhoid fever in Nice, France on January 8.  The Sun reported "He was on board the United States man-of-war Galena during the bombardment of Alexandria, where it is supposed he contracted the disease of which he died."

On January 2, 1894 Clarkson was not feeling well and left his office at his office No. 39 Broadway early.  The New York Times reported "He had not gone far when he became very weak, and was obliged to call a cab and drive to the residence of his family physician, Dr. Wilcox."  The doctor accompanied him home and sent for another physician for a consultation, but before that doctor arrived the 63-year old Clarkson had died.  

Harriet was visiting their son, George T. Clarkson, in Pittsburgh at the time but was due to return the following day.  The news of her husband's death was kept secret until she arrived home.

Harriet remained in the 66th Street house through 1902.  In January 1903 she sold it to Lyman G. Bloomingdale, the proprietor of Bloomingdale's Department Store.  He and his family lived in an elegant mansion nearby at No. 21 East 63rd Street.  The Clarkson house was to be a wedding present for Bloomingdale's daughter, Carinne, and her fiancé Arthur W. Popper.

But first the outdated brownstone would need a massive make-over.  Architect George A. Schellinger was hired to renovate it into a modern residence appropriate for the young and wealthy couple.

The year-long project resulted in a striking Beaux Arts mansion clad in limestone.  Schellinger had removed the brownstone facade and stoop, and pulled the front forward to the property line.  Five stories tall, its entrance (almost assuredly centered), sat above a short stoop of about three steps.  The second floor, or piano nobile, featured a Corinthian columned loggia.  The third and fourth floors were slightly bowed.  The fifth floor, which took the form of a slate shingled mansard with two prominent dormers, sat above a bracketed stone cornice.  

As the alterations were being made, Arthur W. Popper was given a major promotion in anticipation of his wedding.  He was already working as a stock broker in the firm of his father, Popper & Stern.  Now on January 1, 1903, almost simultaneously with his future father-in-law's purchase of No. 48 East 66th Street, the firm announced:

We Beg To Announce That We Have this day admitted Mr. Arthur W. Popper, son of our Mr. E. Popper, and Mr. Simon Hahn, to partnership in our firm.

Four months later, to the day, the firm announced that "George W. Stern retires from active business to take a long needed rest."  Popper & Stern was dissolved and reorganized as Popper & Sternback.  "It is composed of Edward Popper, Sydney M. Sternbach, and Arthur W. Popper, who are all members of the Stock Exchange," reported the New-York Tribune.

Lyman Bloomingdale transferred title to the completed house to his daughter on August 31, 1904.   The newlyweds moved in just in time.  On November 12 the New York Herald announced "To Mr. and Mrs. Arthur W. Popper a son was born last Thursday night, at their residence No. 48 East Sixty-sixth street.  Mrs. Popper was Miss Corinne Bloomingdale, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Lyman G. Bloomingdale."  The infant was named Edward.  His brother, Robert Lyman Popper, would be born four years later, on October 21, 1908.

The New York townhouse was, of course, used only during the winter season.  Philadelphia millionaire J. Wesley Durham maintained a summer estate in the Adirondacks on Lake Placid with the tongue-in-cheek name Wate-A-Minit.  In 1909 he began construction of an even more secluded "camp" on Buck Island there.  In 1910 the Poppers purchased Wate-A-Minit "with all buildings and extensive grounds," as worded by the New-York Tribune.  On August 25 the newspaper said "Mr. Popper recently purchased this place and has made extensive alterations, including installation of electric light and steam heat."  The Popper yacht was moored at the private pier.

The Poppers remained in the 66th Street house until July 1921 when Corinne sold it to Eleanor Anderson
Campbell for $100,000--or about $1.43 million in today's money.  She hired architect Raymond Hood to reconfigure the first floor, changing the entrance and refacing the stonework.  The renovations may have been done to provide office space for Campbell, who had received her medical degree at the University of Boston Medical School.

The same year she purchased No. 48 Dr. Campbell borrowed $5,000 to set up a clinic in the basement of the Judson Memorial Church on Washington Square.  Its pastor, Reverend A. Ray Petty, had "told her he was tired of seeing children with rickety, crooked legs," said The New York Times.  Dr. Campbell would devote the rest of her professional career to the Judson Health Center.

Her attention was diverted in 1924, however.  On September 14 The New York Times reported "Mrs. Anderson Campbell, of 48 East Sixty-sixth Street and Greenwich, Conn., has announced the engagement of her daughter, Miss Elizabeth Milbank Anderson, to Henry Adams Ashford...The announcement was made at a dinner given last night by Mrs. Campbell at her country home, Milbank, in Greenwich."  The wedding took place on January 3, 1925, The Times noting "Both the young people come from distinguished old New York families.  The bride's grandmother, Mrs. Milbank Anderson, was noted for her benefactions, having made large gifts to Columbia University.  Mr. Ashford is a direct descendant of Henry Adams."

Eleanor Campbell's entertainments were often connected with the Judson Health Center.  She hosted a luncheon for Mrs. James J. Walker--the Mayor's wife--in the house on February 9, 1926, for instance.  It highlighted the fact that Mrs. Walker had become a new member of the Judson Health Center's auxiliary.

Eleanor Campbell sold No. 48 in November 1930 to Arthur Coppell.  The New York Evening Post remarked she "has taken a penthouse apartment at 320 East Seventy-second Street."  Now retired, Coppell had had a wide-flung career as a banker, broker, railroad executive and director in several corporations.

Born on April 10, 1872, he was the son of George and Helen H. Gillingham Coppell.  George Coppell was a railroad mogul, banker, and associate of Jay Gould.  Arthur graduated from Princeton in 1894.  He and his wife, the former Mary S. Bowers, had three daughters, Susan Twining, Helen, and Mary B.  The family's summer estate, Lakelands, was near Cooperstown, New York

Despite their wealth, the Coppells rarely appeared in the society columns.  The Otsego Farmer later commented that Arthur "shunned personal publicity" and "gave quietly many thousands of dollars to charitable organizations."  But when Mary's sister arrived for a visit in 1931, the newspapers took note.  The New York Sun reported on May 20 "Mrs. Martha Dandridge Bowers of Santa Barbara will arrive on June 1 to join her brother-in-law and sister, Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Coppell, at 48 East Sixty-sixth street."

By 1934 Susan and Helen were married.  Mary was at camp in Portland, Maine that summer.  Her parents came to visit her in July, but the occasion took a tragic turn when Arthur suffered a fatal heart attack on July 20.  In reporting his death The New York Times noted "He was an opponent of prohibition and in 1919 was a director of the Association Opposed to National Prohibition."

Before long Mary left the 66th Street house, moving to No. 112 East 74th Street.  In 1941 she had renovations done to No. 48 East 66th Street which resulted in two apartments per floor.  She sold the converted mansion in 1946.

Although the upper floors are little changed since the newly-wed Poppers moved in in 1904, one cannot help but lament Dr. Campbell's renovation of the ground floor and, perhaps even more, its current gruesome door.

photographs by the author

The Lost U. S. Grant House - 3 East 66th Street

When this photo was taken, only No. 3 survived of the original row.  It had lost its rooftop balustrade by now.  original source unknown

In 1881 developer C. W. Luyster completed a row of seven "magnificent brown stone residences," as described by the Real Estate Record & Guide, on the north side of 66th Street, between Fifth and Madison Avenues.  Designed by James E. Ware, each was an ample 34-feet wide and rose four stories above an English basement.  The architect dipped into several styles to produce the row--wide Italianate stoops led to the entrance porticoes and delicately-carved neo-Classical panels decorated the space between the second and third floor openings.  The angular personalities of the homes drew from Renaissance Revival and neo-Grec.  Ware alternated the full-height commodious bays from left to right down the row, creating a rhythmic undulation.

Luyster placed a $120,000 price tag on each of the houses, nearly $3 million today.  The last to be sold was No. 3, the nearest to Fifth Avenue and Central Park.  On August 6, 1881 the Record & Guide reported "Ex-President U. S. Grant has clearly made up his mind to become a resident of New York.  Within the last few days he has purchased a residence in the finest quarter of the city.  It is situated [at] No. 3 East Sixty-sixth street."  In a separate article the journal noted "General Grant carefully examined the property before purchasing."

Luyster was generous to the former President and Civil War hero.  The Record & Guide noted "The price paid (90,000) was considered very low."  In fact, the mansion cost Grant nothing.  He paid for it from the $250,000 "which has been raised by the admirers of General Grant to make him comfortable during the rest of his life," explained the publication.

There would be no professional involved in the decorating.  D. Appleton & Co.'s Artistic Houses called it "spacious and well-appointed" and said it "is furnished in a style that speaks of comfort rather than of ostentation.  There has been no lavish outlay of money to produce mere effects."  In what seemed almost an apology for that, the writer said "General Grant seems to have said to himself...Many of my friends, to be sure, would put themselves in the midst of a much more costly and luxurious environment.  This is not my taste."

The Aesthetic Movement, with its importance on things Asian, was in full evidence in Julia Grant's decorating.  The book noted that the curtains in the parlor windows "are beautiful specimens of Japanese embroidery...and Mrs. Grant purchased in India the fine rug that adorns the floor."  An embroidered screen was a present from the citizens of Tokyo.  Two intricately carved teakwood cabinets, also from Japan, held the Grants' collection of porcelains collected during their travels through Asia.  Other gifts displayed in the parlor were a pair of carved elephant tusks from the Maharajah of Jehore and a silver cabinet in the form of a temple from the Maharajah of Decca.  Of that unique piece Artistic Houses said "Perhaps nothing like it has ever been displayed in a private house in this country."

The Grant parlor was filled with Asian artifacts.  To the left is a mother-of-pearl inlaid upright piano, the latest in fashion.  To the right can be seen Read's painting of Sheridan.  Artistic Houses, 1886 (copyright expired)

Two of the oil paintings in the parlor were of other Union generals.  Grant's favorite was Sheridan Twenty Miles Away, by Thomas Buchanan Read.  He liked it so much that he refused to give it to General Philip Sheridan, a good friend, when he asked for it.  The other was a full-length portrait of General Winfield Scott by George Fuller.  Also in the parlor was a family portrait by William Cogswell, painted around 1871 when the children were still young.  Also on the first floor were the drawing room and dining room.

The dining room was "simply and quite charmingly furnished in white-oak, with the general's monogram stamped on the backs of the chairs." 

Directly above the parlor was Grant's bedroom, connected to the library which overlooked 66th Street.  The library, of course, held Grant's substantial number of books, but valuable gifts presented to him over the years as well.  Of the large antique oak cabinet in the room Artistic Houses said "No piece of furniture in the United States of America contains a display of curiosities at once so flattering to the owner and so rich in historic interest."

There were more than a half-dozen gold-headed canes, one of which had been owned by the Marquis de Lafayette and had been presented by ladies of Baltimore.  There was also the handle of the cane Grant broke during the struggle "with a lunatic" in Washington.  Artistic Houses said "The general's use of that instrument as a weapon was exceedingly dexterous, and resulted in the speedy discomfiture of his assailant."

The City of London had given Grant a gold box decorated with a figure of Liberty, the United States coat-of-arms and the figure of Britannia.  One on side was the Capitol Building and on the other St. Jame's Palace.  A box from Dublin was fashioned from wood reputedly from a tree planted by Shakespeare; a silver casket was the gift of Edinburgh, and a silver repousse, gilded, was from the city of Glasgow.

There were also swords carried in battle during the Civil War and lavishly-decorated and jeweled presentation swords; and on one table stood a miniature gold reproduction of the table on which General Lee signed the articles of capitulation.

The library's fireplace, overmantel and bookcases were in the Eastlake style.  A dainty china spittoon sits next to the brass fender.  Artistic Houses, 1886 (copyright expired)

Having been a war hero and a United States President, Ulysses S. Grant now embarked on a new career.  He partnered with Ferdinand Ward to form the investment firm Grant & Ward.  In the meantime Julia slipped into the Manhattan social swirl.

On January 31, 1883 The New York Times reported that she had given "an afternoon tea" the day before.  While that may sound like an intimate gathering of half-a-dozen close women friends, there were, in fact, more than 30 guests.  Among those arriving at No. 3 East 66th Street that afternoon were Caroline Schermerhorn Astor and her daughter, Carrie; John Jacob Astor and his wife; Mr. and Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt; Mrs. Paran Stevens; the William K. Vanderbilts; and Ward McAllister and his daughter.

But disaster was just around the corner.  Unknown to Grant, Ferdinand Ward was operating a pyramid scheme, earning him the modern sobriquet the "Bernie Madoff of the Gilded Age."  And as with all such cases, the house of cards came tumbling down.  On May 6, 1884 Grant left East 66th Street thinking himself a millionaire.  The New York Times remarked "When he arrived at his place of business in Wall Street, he found he was ruined.  As he entered the office he was met by his son, Ulysses Jr., who said: 'You had better go home, father, the bank has failed.'  A few minutes later the elder Grant got into his carriage and was driven home.  He never returned to Wall Street."

He and Julia counted their cash and discovered they had about $80.  The Grant sons, who also lived in the house, had already ordered a supply of cigars to last several months.  Those were immediately returned.  To make the situation worse, Grant had recently been diagnosed with throat cancer.

Newspapers were filled with the story of the firm's collapse and of the financial ruin of the former president.  Charles Wood, an upstate brush manufacturer read the accounts with concern.  And on May 10 sent a gift of $500 and a letter offering to loan him another $1,000.  Two days later Grant replied;

Dear Sir:  Your more than kind letter on Saturday, inclosing check for $500, and proposing to send the like amount on my note, payable in one year, without interest, is received.  The money at this time would be of exceeding use to me, having not enough to pay one months servant hire, or room, if I were to leave my house, and nothing coming in till the 1st of August.  I therefore accept the check just received, and this is my acknowledgment of a debt of one year from this date, on the terms of your letter.

The Grants' dire financial circumstances were again reflected in a letter to Wood after the $1,000 loan arrived.  Grant said in part:

You have conferred an obligation more than I can ever repay.  The money, of course, I do not doubt I can return.  But, being caught without $100 in my pocket, and nothing coming in until August, it became a serious question what to do.  You, in the generosity of your heart, have relieved that anxiety.

Julia owned property in Washington, including a house that sold for $6,500, giving them money to live on.  Samuel Clemens, a good friend, urged Grant to write his memoirs, which added to their income.

But the stress and humiliation of the situation took their toll on the proud statesman and military leader.  By the spring of 1885 Grant's doctor was practically living in the house and he routinely sent "bulletins" to the press on his patient's condition.  Crowds formed outside No. 3, staring up at the second floor in hopes of a glimpse of the president.

A feeble Grant was helped into his carriage outside the 66th Street house in one of his last public outings. Harper's Weekly April 11, 1885 (copyright expired) 

On March 19, 1885 The Sun reported "It is several days since Gen. Grant has been down stairs.  He is confined to his library and bedroom except when he walks for exercise in the hall."  The throat cancer was interfering with his ability to speak and swallow.

Crowds assembled below Grant's windows.  The other houses in the row can be seen in this view.  Harper's Weekly April 11, 1885 (copyright expired) 

On July 24, 1885 The Sun reported "With one last weary opening and closing of the eyes and a little gasp so faint that it was but a gentle sigh, Gen. Grant expired this morning as peacefully and painlessly as a tired child might fall asleep.  Death could hardly come to any man freer from terror than it came to him."

Twelve years later, on February 12, 1893, The New York Times mentioned "Mrs. Gen. Ulysses S. Grant is an active lady of about seventy years.  At present Mrs. Grant is in California visiting her son, but the greater part of the Winter was spent in town at the house 3 East Sixty-sixth Street, which was presented to Gen. Grant."  In fact, she would not return to 66th Street.

Two weeks later The Record & Guide announced she had sold the house to her neighbor, Henry O. Havemeyer, for $130,000 (about $3.65 million today).

The Henry O. Havemeyer house sat at the corner of Fifth Avenue and 66th Street.  The Grant house was directly behind. photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Havemeyer's interest in the house was most likely merely to ensure his new neighbors would be acceptable to him.  He quickly sold it to Phillips Phoenix and his wife, Eleanor.  Phoenix owned much real estate, including their country home in Tuxedo, New York.  In 1879 he had erected the Madison Square Theatre on West 24th Street.  His 31-foot ice yacht "to be used this Winter on Tuxedo Lake," as reported in The Times, had caused much comment in December 1886.

Eleonor Phoenix died in the mansion on March 4, 1902.  Phillips remarried within the next few years.  Despite his somewhat flamboyant past, the middle-aged millionaire and his new wife, the former Lillie G. Lewis, lived rather quietly in the stately, if architecturally outdated home.

Phillips died at No. 3 on April 11, 1921.  He left approximately half of his $2.7 million estate to Lillie, including the house.  Her inheritance would be more in the neighborhood of $18 million today.  By the time of Lillie's death in the house on October 13, 1924 No. 3 was the last of the 1881 row left standing.

Four months after her death, in February 1925, the house was thrown open for a public auction of "paintings and sculpture, together with the French furniture and household embellishments" from Lillie's estate.  The several-day sale brought in $33,252.50, or nearly half a million today.

What followed was a dizzying change of ownership and repeated promises to build an apartment building on the site.  The house was sold in 1926 to "be demolished and replaced by a twelve-story apartment house," according to The Times on October 5.  Instead the house sat empty for two years, sold in foreclosure in June 1928.

In 1926 the stoop had been removed and a For Sale sign hangs across a parlor window.  from the collection of the New York Public Library 

It was purchased by former Ambassador James W. Gerard, who resold it in February 1929.  Then, on August 5, 1930 it was sold to builder Michael E. Paterno who promised he "would soon demolish the house and improve the site with an apartment house to accommodate five families."

That did not happen and the former Grant mansion sat neglected, now with its stoop removed, for another three years when Paterno lost it in foreclosure on January 20, 1933.  Four months later a "For Sale" sign hung on the facade.  On April 4, 1933 The New York Times write "The old home is in a condition strongly suggesting 'haunted.'"  Vandals had gained access through the rear windows and defaced the interiors of the historic home.

When the Trans-Boro Realty Corporation purchased it in August that year, saying it planned "to improve the site," New Yorkers may have been skeptical.  But a month later architects Boak & Paris filed plans for a nine-story apartment house to cost $100,000.  Before long the historic home was a mere memory.

Boak & Paris's Art Moderne building survives.

many thanks to reader Peter Alsen for requesting this post