The Elisabeth Marbury House -- No. 13 Sutton Place

photo by the author

In April 1837 George Sutton acquired property on the East side of Manhattan where only a few years earlier were summer estates of New York’s wealthy.  Within a few decades development had reached the area.  In 1875 Effingham B. Sutton erected a row of brownstone residences along the disengaged section of Avenue A that ran from 57^th to 59^th Street.  The area was far from the fashionable neighborhoods to the west; yet it enjoyed the breezes from the East River directly behind the homes.  In 1883 the little stretch of roadway was renamed Sutton Place.

The families who lived in No. 13 Sutton Place were respectable and middle class.  In 1886 it was home to W. Beuttenmuller, Jr. who was listed in The Scientist’s International Directory; and in the 1890s Frederick Sauter lived here.  He was a member of the New York Zoological Society.

But by 1895, when Sauter’s family was still in the house, the neighborhood was becoming gritty.  The Peter Doelger Brewery operated nearby, tenement buildings had replaced many of the private homes, and those that survived were neglected and decaying.  As the turn of the century passed, No. 13 had been converted for use by the Mha Chemical Company.

Sutton Place following World War I was not the sort of area one would expect Manhattan's wealthiest citizens to congregate.  photograph from the collection of the New York Public Library.

But in 1920 a stalwart group of wealthy New Yorkers did the shocking.  They decided to colonize Sutton Place, creating what they would call Sutton Square—so called because the houses would share a large common garden in the rear that spilled down to the river.  On December 26, 1920 the New-York Tribune broke the news, saying “A group of well known folks…have become interested in a little cluster of homes in the shadow of the massive Queensboro Bridge, on Sutton Place, a little byway of the city known by comparatively few New Yorkers.”

The socially-important urban pioneers included W. Seward Webb, Jr. “whose mother was Lila Osgood Vanderbilt,” architect Eliot Cross, Robert C. Knapp, Frederick Allen, conductor Walter Damrosch and others.  Listed in the newspapers account was Miss Elisabeth Marbury.  The exclusive enclave was composed of 18 houses forming a horseshoe around the garden; from 57^th street, along the east side of Sutton Place, and back around 58^th Street.

The New-York Tribune published a photograph of the unaltered houses on January 16, 1921.  The New York Times called the area "a slum."  (copyright expired)

The group agreed, for uniformity, that “The brownstone stoops, the window ledges and other protrusions are to be cleaved off, leaving a straight front to the outside world.  Architecturally the façade will be of the American basement style, which has been popular in the Fifth Avenue district for the last decade."

Elisabeth Marbury was a wealthy literary agent and producer who had been born into an aristocratic family.  Among her clients were Oscar Wilde and George Bernard Shaw.  In 1887 she met Elsie de Wolfe.  Like most affluent young women, Elsie had traveled through Europe in her teens.  She was well-known in New York social circles for her beautiful and creative dresses.  But prior to meeting Marbury, she did something that no doubt raised eyebrows in many a Fifth Avenue sitting room.  She went on stage as an amateur actress.

It was the first step in the colorful life of a woman, who like Elisabeth Marbury, dared to do what she wanted to do, despite tradition or social expectations.

When Elsie de Wolfe returned to New York in 1892, she briefly moved into Elisabeth’s home.  The couple would become Manhattan’s most visible lesbian pair for decades.  Later that year Elsie leased the house at No.122 East 17th Street where she and Elisabeth lived together until 1920. 

The Evening World printed a rather masculine looking photo of Elisabeth on March 3, 1921 (copyright expired)

By now their relationship was changing and living separately seemed the best idea.  It would never be a complete severance, however; and Elsie de Wolfe, now considered perhaps the foremost interior decorator in America, handled much of the design plans for Elisabeth’s house at No. 13 Sutton Place.

De Wolfe often worked hand-in-hand with architect Mott B. Schmidt and he was brought in to remake the old, deteriorating Victorian.  (It was a profitable commission for Schmidt, for he would soon do the renovations for two more Sutton Place mansions—those of Elisabeth’s friends Anne Morgan, daughter of J. P. Morgan; and Anne Vanderbilt, widow of William K. Vanderbilt.)  When the New-York Tribune reported on December 1, 1920 that “Miss Marbury will make extensive alterations,” its readers could not have imagined how extensive those renovations would be.  Schmidt’s transformation would cost “Bessie” $20,000—more than a quarter of a million dollars today.

Marbury explained the migration to The Evening World reporter Will B. Johnstone a few weeks after the renovations began.  “It is the obvious thing to do.  Here is sunlight and air and a river view as desirable as Riverside Drive.  Why should the East River be neglected?  Our garden will be a gem; a quaint old English garden with a red bricked wall.”

The Sutton Square gardens were intended to be the focal point of living here.  “The interiors of our old brownstones will be completely turned about,” she said.  “Living rooms, dining rooms, drawing rooms and master bedrooms will be in the back, facing our delightful garden and river view.  What is now the front of the houses will be devoted to service entrances, kitchens and maids’ bedrooms.  In this way the houses will be isolated from outside surroundings so far as owners and guests are concerned.”

While Schmidt’s renovated façade would be less grand than those he produced for Morgan and Vanderbilt; the Marbury house pretended to be an understated 18^th century townhouse from the streets of Boston or London.  Elegant in its simplicity, it was entered a few steps below the sidewalk.  But if the exterior did little boasting, Elsie de Wolfe’s interiors made up for it.

Handsome English paneling, fine molded plaster ceilings, and imported elements set the background for Elisabeth’s eclectic belongings—at least 30 Chinese carpets, engravings of Roman gods and goddesses, Spanish laces, American quilts, and Asian embroidered hangings.

The magnificent interiors survive intact.  photos http://www.bhsusa.com/manhattan/midtown-east/sutton-place/townhouse/10190155#

The Times described the interiors.  “On the ground floor of Miss Marbury’s house, opening on a rear terrace, is the dining room, paneled in oak, with old English, French and Spanish furniture, and hung temporarily with Jacobean crewel curtains and old needlework.

“At the rear of the second floor is the library, the walls of which are nearly covered with bookshelves.  The drawing room, on the same floor, has among its furnishings a mahogany Chippendale secretary, Louis XVI tapestry-covered chairs, paintings and objects of art.

“On the third floor at the rear is Miss Marbury’s bedroom, furnished largely in French painted furniture, and at the front a guest room, in which hang three old Chinese paintings.”

Elisabeth Marbury did not restrict herself to the theatrical business.  She was outspoken on political issues and made herself a force to be heard.  She was a leader of woman suffrage and an ardent opponent of Prohibition (she called the attempt to enforce Prohibition “a grotesque and tragic failure”).  Her satirical sense of humor and brilliant command of the written and spoken word was evidenced in an article about upcoming elections she wrote in June 1920.

“We were hoping against hope that Babe Ruth would open up headquarters.  If only an honest-to-goodness human being would stumble into the White House by accident then the whispering gallery to be found in all the hotels would not have to give out such important items as ‘Tumulty has telephoned (stop),’ ‘McAdoo will run (don’t stop).’”

And yet in stark contrast to her support of women’s rights was her response to a journalist question about how a woman could be successful.  “There is only one real success for women; that is to marry happily and have children and a home.”

By the time Bessie moved into the her new house, she was earning, according to The Evening World, $26,000 a year—more than the renovations had cost her.  While her relationship with Elsie de Wolfe was perhaps no longer romantic, it was still strong.  On March 19, 1922 when The New York Times reported that Elsie was leaving for Europe on the Aquitania, it listed her address as 13 Sutton Place.  A little over a week later the newspaper notes that Elsie would “reopen the Villa Trianon at Versailles, where Miss Elisabeth Marbury will join her in June.”  It added “Miss Marbury has discontinued her Sunday teas at 13 Sutton Place.”

Four years later The New York Times received a startling telegram from Paris.  On March 9, 1926 it reported “According to reliable information this evening, Elsie de Wolfe, former American actress, and Sir Charles Mendl, head of the press section of the British Embassy in Paris, plan to be married Wednesday morning.”  The newspaper added what to some was obvious.  “The intended wedding comes as a great surprise to their friends.”

The ones who were not surprised by the newspaper account were Bessie’s closest friends.  “Announcement of the planned wedding was made very recently at a fashionable tea given by Mrs. W. K. Vanderbilt.  Only a small circle of intimate friends were informed.”  The Times closed its article saying “When in New York [Miss de Wolfe] makes her home with Miss Elisabeth Marbury at 13 Sutton Place."

Bessie Marbury apparently enjoyed her downtime not only in teas and other refined Sutton Square entertainments.  On the evening of Wednesday October 26, 1927 she left No. 13 and headed to “a night club on East Fifty-seventh Street.”  The now-aging woman was no doubt panicked when she realized within the next day or so that she had lost a ring that evening.  On Saturday The New York Times noted that “Miss Marbury said the ring was a fifteenth century piece,which had belonged to a Pope and which had been given to her by an Englishman, Evan Morgan, the son of Lord Tredegar.”

A staunch Democrat, Elisabeth Marbury was actively involved in the political arena—in so far as a woman could be--and became a National Democratic Party committeewoman.  Her Democratic ties were evidenced when, on March 17, 1931, she gave a “small luncheon” in the house for Governor and Mrs. Franklin D. Roosevelt to celebrate their 26^th wedding anniversary.

A few months later, on May 2, the house was the scene of a much larger affair.  “About 200 guests, including Democratic women leaders in the various districts of the five boroughs, attended the reception and tea given by Miss Elisabeth Marbury, Democratic National Committeewoman from New York State, for Mrs. John F. Curry, wife of the Tammany Hall leader,” reported The Times the following day.

Elisabeth Marbury (right) in her later years -- photograph Library of Congress

When a reporter asked Elisabeth if she cared to comment on the upcoming 1932 Democratic Convention, she replied that as a State Committeewoman, she could not comment on a candidate.  Then she quoted Woodrow Wilson.  “’Facts do not threaten—they operate.’  We Democrats do not have to worry.  We are sitting still and watching facts operate.”

On Thursday, January 19, 1933 the 77-year old Elisabeth Marbury underwent a minor operation on her leg.  She seemed to have come through the operation with no ill effects.  Then, at 5:33 on the morning of January 22 she died in the Sutton Place house of a heart attack.  The amazing woman died with only her servants and her physician, Dr. A. W. Dunn, in the room.

Two days later Rev. Thomas L. Graham of St. Patrick’s Cathedral arrived at the Sutton Place home to give a blessing to Marbury’s body.  It was then taken to the Cathedral where 2,000 mourners filed in for the funeral.  Outside, an estimated crowd of 1,000 crammed the sidewalks.  The woman who died alone was now honored by the presence of Eleanor Roosevelt, wife of the President-elect; the former Governor Alfred E. Smith; and political figures like James A. Farley, Mayor John P. O’Brien, and Robert Jackson, Democratic national secretary.

“The coffin was borne into the church under a rich covering of Templar roses and lilies of the valley from which hung long streamers of smilax,” reported The New York Times.  “The floral blanket had been sent by Miss Anne Morgan and Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, both of whom were present.”

Bessie left nearly her entire estate, including the Sutton Place residence valued at $35,000, to Elsie de Wolfe.  In November 1933 No. 13 was opened to the public to preview the upcoming auction of all Marbury’s possessions.  After the house was emptied, it was placed on the market.  Its buyer would be as well-known as Elisabeth Marbury.

On March 3, 1934 The New York Times reported that “Miriam Hopkins, actress, was the buyer of the home of the late Elisabeth Marbury at 13 Sutton Place when it was sold two weeks ago.”  The theater connection of the two owners was not lost on syndicated columnist George Ross who wrote “The dynasty is continued at 13 Sutton Place and the girl from Hollywood is in charge.  Admirers gravitate toward its brownstone front to sit and worship or just to sit.”

According to The New York Times, Hopkins “extensively altered” the house.  “She installed air-conditioning and a remote-control radiovictrola which can be operated from any room in the building.”  But the actress, simply by the nature of her profession, was unable to stay for extended periods in the Sutton Place house. 

She frequently was required to close the house when she was in Hollywood or elsewhere filming.  In 1936 George Ross wrote that Hopkins “has waved a fond so-long to her four-story brownstone that stands with its priceless furnishings on Sutton Place and to the East River scows that she could see at even a slight turn of her flaxen head.  She has left behind her proud collection of books and art, and that graphic view that she could get (had she a mind to) from the northeast bedroom window.  She has also left behind, practically a whole artists’ colony that gravitates toward her dwelling.”

Mirian Hopkins began leasing the house around 1938 during her absences.  That year she rented it to Richard S. Rheem, President of the Rheem Manufacturing Company of San Francisco.  The arrangement was convenient; since both came and went from the West Coast. 

She was back the following summer when she talked to reporter Willa Gray Martin of the Sutton Square residents’ revolt against the proposed FDR Drive.  “We sat in Miss Hopkins’ Sutton Place house facing the East River.  In the garden outside, summer’s late flowers and grass were making a last stand.  And beyond, through the trees, could be seen the river where men were working on a highway.  Every once in a while a war-like cataclysm would rent the air, shaking the flowers into hysterics.  A roadway was being blasted,” reported Martin on October 15, 1939.

Hopkins explained.  “There was a nefarious pan afoot to have the highway run parallel to our lawns.  But those of us who own houses in Sutton Place got together and paid to have the road covered over with grass.  Our back yards will stretch right down to the river as they do now, and we’ll have boat landings, though goodness knows who’ll use them!”

Because of the actions of Miriam Hopkins and her wealthy neighbors, the FDR Drive runs under the Sutton Place backyards today; not through them.

Miram Hopkins came and went from California to Sutton Place, leasing No. 13 in the interim mostly to film industry figures like director Garson Kanin, who lived here in 1942; Judy Garland, who leased it for seven months; and Jules Stein.

photo http://www.bhsusa.com/manhattan/midtown-east/sutton-place/townhouse/10190155#

Eventually, at the age of 64, Hopkins sold No. 13 Sutton Place when she moved permanently to Los Angeles in 1966.  Little has changed since then.  The house that Elisabeth Marbury, Elsie de Wolfe and Mott Schmidt created was recently put on the market for $15 million.  It is a remarkable slice in the history of American theater, literature and politics; as well as in the development of a most unexpected and unique residential New York enclave.

many thanks to reader Maureen Emerson for suggesting this post

The 1844 "Washington Irving" House -- No. 122 East 17th Street

photo by Alice Lum

The corner house at No. 122 East 17^th Street was already more than two decades old when Elsie de Wolfe was born in 1865.  And already it had seen a progression of well-heeled owners.

The house was one of three identical, speculative homes built between 1843 and 1844 in the popular Greek Revival style.  The brick-faced houses with brownstone trim did nothing to command attention; rather they reflected the respectability and restraint of the developing neighborhood.

In 1844, just after the paint dried inside, Charles Jackson Martin moved in with his wife, Mary.  Martin was the secretary of the Globe Fire Insurance Company and would go on to be president of the Home Insurance Company and one of the New York State insurance commissioners.

Following the Martins, Thomas W. Phelps and his wife, Elizabeth, owned the house.  The couple moved into the residence in 1854 and would stay on until 1863.  It was not Phelps, who was a merchant/banker, who would be best known; but his wife.  The first in a tradition of strong-opinioned and activist women in the house, Elizabeth would go on to found the Women’s Bureau and donate the house at No. 49 East 23^rd Street for its headquarters.  Working closely with Susan B. Anthony in the endeavor, she created a place where various “societies of women” could meet and operate.  These included the Workingwomen’s Association, and the Art Association.  “These societies find a place of meeting, with refined surroundings, free from the contact of public places,” promised The New York Times.

The feminist would become a member of Sorosis, the first professional women’s club in the U.S.; contribute money toward the publishing of Revolution, a suffragist magazine; and ardently participate in the New York, National and Union suffrage associations.

It was either just before the Phelps moved in, or during their stay that the house was nearly doubled in size with a three story addition to the rear.  The design of the extension sympathetically melded with the original structure.  It was most probably Phelps, however, who embellished the house with picturesque Italianate elements like the lighthearted hood over the cast iron balcony at the front of the house, the three-sided bay to the side, and the lacy porch at the side entrance.  With the enlargement of the house, the dining room moved back into the extension where a large, oriel window provided light.

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It was almost assuredly Phelps who remodeled the house with exquisite cast iron and the charming bay -- photo by Alice Lum

In 1864 the house became home to the Charles A. Macy family.  A banker, Charles had been President of the New-York County Bank until 1856 and was now a principal with the Corlies, Macy & Co. banking house.  (His nephew would make the family name famous when he founded the dry goods store.)  Charles was married to Sarah, the daughter of his father-in-law, Benjamin Corlies.

Things went well for the Macys until the Financial Panic of 1873.  The New York Times later recalled that “The sudden panic of 1873, which caused the overthrow of many prominent banking houses, also dealt a fatal blow to [Corlies, Macy & Co.]” 

The shock of losing his bank greatly affected the health of the 69-year old man.  The Times would say it contributed “much toward the hastening of his death.”  Charles A. Macy died in the house on East 17^th Street on Wednesday, June 16, 1875.

photo by Alice Lum

Sarah Macy lived on in the house until 1886 after which it became home to Dr. August G. Seibert.  The esteemed pediatrician operated his practice from the house as well and wrote several in-depth medical articles here. 

Not all of his opinions would hold up over the years.   In The Pacific Record of Medicine and Surgery he advised that the relief and prevention of pneumonia in children was “no medicine and plenty of fresh air.” 

While Dr. Seibert was living in the East 17^th Street house, Elsie de Wolfe was making a name for herself.  Having traveled through Europe in her teens, she was well-known in New York social circles for her beautiful and creative dresses.

About the time that Dr. Siebert moved into the house, Elsie did something that no doubt raised eyebrows in New York society—she went on stage as an amateur actress.  It was the first step in the colorful life of a woman who dared to do what she wanted to do, despite tradition and expectations.

In 1887 she met Elisabeth Marbury, a theatrical agent who came from an old moneyed New York family.  For a quarter of a century the pair would be New York’s most visible lesbian couple.

Elsie and her three brothers were reared in a comfortable home.  Their father, Dr. Stephen de Wolfe, was, as described by The Times, “ranked high as an authority and successful practitioner in pulmonary diseases.”  Despite his expertise, however, Dr. de Wolfe died of heart problems on September 26, 1890.  His obituary mentioned that, along with his wife and sons, he left a “daughter, Miss Elsie De Wolfe, who has achieved an enviable reputation as an amateur actress.”

Elsie’s amateur status would change within the year.  The de Wolfe finances were not as far-reaching as most imagined.  Three months later The New York Times reported that “Miss Elsie de Wolfe has decided on adopting the stage as a profession, and next season she will be a member of Charles Frohman’s stock company…Miss de Wolfe is going on the stage because her circumstances make it necessary for her to make her own living.”

On February 10, 1891 the newspaper tactfully announced that she had to borrow money to study in Paris.  “She is now pursuing her studies in Paris through the kindness of New-York friends, who have advanced her the money required to prepare her for a professional career.’

Back in New York in 1892, briefly moved into Elisabeth’s home.  On August 22 a New York Times reporter visited her at the home of “her friend Miss Elisabeth Marbury.”  The journalist took note of her clothes, as everyone always did.  “As she entered the drawing room, gowned in a French something of old rose and white lace, there was about her the glamour of the peerless city on the Seine with the approving seal of its milliners.”

Elsie stressed that she wanted to be judged by her talent and not her social background.  “I want to stand on my merits as an actress, and not as a member of New-York society.”

Later that year she leased the house at No. 122 East 17^th Street.  Her intentions, she later wrote, were to “devote all my leisure to making over this tiny old dwelling into a home which would fit into our plan for life.”

While de Wolfe and Marbury lived in the house the brick facade was painted.  photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1GIWB7WX&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

Her devotions to “making over this tiny old dwelling” would shake the world of interior design.  Her years in Paris among airy rooms with pastel colors and sparse furniture had left a deep impression.  Her work in the theater added to her understanding of stage sets and their relationship to the actors moving through them.  She was adept at merging these ideas into a ground-breaking concept in domestic interior design.

Elsie de Wolfe is nearly swallowed up in the interior decor of her drawing room before she began redecorating -- photograph by Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=CMS3&VF=SearchDetailPopupPage&VBID=24UP1GIWDSJD&PN=1&IID=2F3XC58U1M3O

Elsie purged the rooms of their heavy Victorian furniture, potted palms and ferns, and unnecessary bric-a-brac.  She replaced it all with a stripped down, clean décor—painting the dark woodwork a crisp white and added only the necessary pieces; mostly in the Louis XV and Louis XVI styles.

During the 1890s Elsie and Elisabeth spent months in France, staying in the little house Elsie purchased near Versaille.  On September 17, 1900 she described the house to reporters as “A wee little house about the size of a postage stamp, but with big gardens opening in the park.”

The dining room in No. 122 East 17th Street before and after Elsie's redecorating.  The heavy Victorian trappings (including a wallpapered ceiling) have been replaced with an airy decor.  photograph by Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1GIWDSJD&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

The French influence seeped into the 17^th Street house as she painted furniture white and brought home antique pieces from abroad.  She explained “Miss Marbury and I have a perfect right to French things in our drawing-room, you see, for we are French residents half the year.  And besides this gracious old house welcomed a fine old Louis XIV sofa as serenely as you please.”

It was most likely Elsie de Wolfe who started the legend that Washington Irving had lived in the house.  It was decidedly not so; but it made for a wonderful tale.  An indignant neighbor wrote to the editor of The New York Times on March 24, 1901 in an attempt to put the unfounded rumor to rest.

“Some one is engaged in a persistent attempt to make it appear that the house on the southwest corner of Irving Place and East Seventeenth Street was formerly owned and occupied by Washington Irving.  I know the family who have owned the property for thirty years or more, and they tell me that Irving never had any residence there.  A relative of his assures me that he never lived in Irving Place and never owned the house in question.”

The writer did not stop there, but pursued the records.  “Finally, through the courtesy of the President of the Lawyers’ Title Insurance Company I had the claim of title examined, and found that Irving does not appear in it anywhere…The house is at present occupied by Miss Elsie De Wolfe as tenant of the owner.  What prompts this letter just now is the fact that I found a photographer at work yesterday taking a picture of this ‘historic mansion.’”

The neighbor’s well-laid argument against the Washington Irving legend landed on mostly deaf ears.

Elsie and Elisabeth initiated a tradition of Sunday receptions; the equivalent of French salons.  Here writers, poets, artists and thinkers would congregate in the house on East 17^th.  On January 4, 1904 The Sun remarked that “Miss Elizabeth Marbury and Miss Elsie de Wolfe of 122 East Seventeenth street gave one of the most largely attended of yesterday afternoon’s receptions.”  A few years later The Times would note that “Teas at the home of Miss Marbury and Miss De Wolfe, in the old Washington Irving residence, at Seventeenth Street and Irving Place, are regular Sunday afternoon affairs of importance in the literary and dramatic world during the height of the season.”

Among the other things French in the home were Faustina and Fauvette, two French bulldogs.  The pets were woefully upset on January 27, 1904 when a fire broke out in the house.  The Sun reported that “A small fire caused a big fuss at the residence of Miss Elisabeth Marbury and Miss Elsie De Wolfe, 122 East Seventeenth street, yesterday morning.   The resultant pain was felt most by Miss De Wolfe’s two French bulldogs.”

While Elsie and Elisabeth were on the first floor, a fire started in a second floor bedroom fireplace.  It spread to the surrounding woodwork and through the ceiling before it was noticed.  The butler was sent out to sound the alarm and when he left, the bulldogs fled the scene.

The newspaper concluded “Fire and water did $1,000 damage to the house, besides causing great mental distress to the bulldogs, which were caught nearly a block away.”

A year later, in April 1905, another fire started in the house.  While the damage was again small, this time firemen were injured when the responding fire truck was struck by a street car.  The truck was nearly demolished and two firemen were taken to Bellevue Hospital.

Edwardian mores were not especially upset by the domestic arrangement of the two now-wealthy and influential women.  On March 22, 1908 the Sunday afternoon tea was given in honor of English novelist Mrs. Humphry Ward, an old friend of Elisabeth’s.  The Times noted that “Among the prominent people who were present were Prof. and Mrs. Fairfield Osborne, Mrs. Cooper Hewitt, Miss Hewitt, Mrs. J. Pierpont Morgan, Mrs. Frank Millet, Mrs. William Post, Kate Douglas Wiggin, Eliot Gregory, Henry Taft, Frank Munsey, Mrs. Paul Morton, Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Whitridge—with whom Mrs. Ward is now staying in New York—Mr. and Mrs. John Corbin, and ex-Gov. Ide of the Philippines.”

On March 23, 1910 the first hints that Elsie and Elisabeth were preparing to leave East 17^th Street came to light.  The New-York Tribune reported that alteration plans had been filed by Ogden Codman, Jr. for Elsie’s four-story brick dwelling at 131 East 71^st Street.

By October of the following year a sign hung outside the door that announced “The Washington Irving Tea Room.”  The New York Times remarked “The well-worn tradition that Washington Irving once lived in the quaint little house on the southeast corner of Seventeenth Street still survives…Since Miss Elisabeth Marbury and Miss Elsie De Wolfe left the house for their uptown residence it has lost its spick-and-span outward appearance.”

In 1917, at the end of the Tea Room’s occupancy, Clarence H. White and his wife, Jane, moved in and established The Clarence H. White School of Photography here.  On the opening of the school’s winter session on October 29 that year, Wilson’s Photographic Magazine commented on the house.  “The new location is the old Washington Irving House, and is noted for its beautiful architecture, its spacious and well-lighted rooms carefully arranged and equipped to meet the demands of the school.”

Photo-Era Magazine said “No lover of the artistic and beautiful can look at the porch and doorway of the Clarence H. White School of photography, 122 East Seventeenth Street, New York City, without being convinced that the location of this well-known school could not be improved.”  The publication swallowed the old tale and passed it on.  “As a matter of fact, the building is the old Washington Irving house, which is noted for its beautiful architecture.”

The photograph school would remain in the house for only three years, moving on to No. 460 West 144^th Street in 1920.

The house took on boarders for a while, and the following year one of them, Raymond Fisher, was arrested in Duquesne, Pennsylvania for check fraud.  Police felt “that the flood of worthless checks, aggregating thousands of dollars, in the Tri-State district and in Eastern Pennsylvania has been stopped.”

Bail for the 40-year old Fisher, who went under the alias of Frank Horak, was fixed at the staggering amount of $20,000.  The Pittsburgh Press ran a full-page headline “Alleged Forger Is Arrested in Duquesne—Smooth Scheme Uncovered.”

On September 9, 1927 another neighbor, once again, wrote to The New York Times in a frustrated attempt to squelch the Washington Irving story.  Emma M. Lewis wrote “I have lived all my life in that neighborhood and, as a girl, was in this house hundreds of times while it was owned by the Macys.

“In those days it was never even mooted that Washington Irving had ever lived in the house, but he was said to have boarded one Winter in a house at the southwest corner of Sixteenth Street and Irving Place.  His nephew, Pierre Irving, lived at 120 East Seventeenth Street.  His daughter, Mary, a very handsome girl, married the son of Huntington, the artist.  I knew her.

“After Elsie de Wolfe came to live at 122 East Seventeenth Street it was rumored that Washington Irving had lived in that house and that he used to sit in the second-story windows ‘to watch the boats in the East River.’  This was repeated in one way or another so many times that it was taken for truth.”

That same year the National Patriotic Builders of America bought the house with the intention of restoring it as a house museum—no doubt the impetus for Ms. Lewis’s letter to The Times.  The organization named the building “The Washington Irving House.”  The following year the Women’s Republican Association of the State of New York shared space in the house.

A tumult of contentious letters was triggered when the National Patriotic Builders initiated a fund-raising drive for its house museum project.  Eventually the group backed off from its venture; but the legend of Washington Irving was not gone yet.

On October 29, 1935 the over-sized bronze bust of Washington Irving that had been in a park was restored and moved across the street, in front of the Washington Irving High School.  The New York Times noted that Dr. John H. Finley, in rededicating the bust, mentioned the house across the street.  “Dr. Finley pointed out that at 49 Irving Place, directly opposite the school building, Washington Irving was said to have done much of his writing.”

Dr. Finley’s mistake could be, perhaps, forgiven; for a year earlier a bronze plaque had been affixed to the brick façade of No. 122 East 17^th Street proclaiming it as the home of Washington Irving.

Flying in the face of historic accuracy, a bronze plaque was affixed to the facade in 1934 -- photo by Alice Lum

From the late 1950s into the 1960s the house was home to the Washington Irving Gallery which exhibited new artists, many of them American.  Today a sushi restaurant operates in the house while the upper floors have been converted to residential apartments.

The house is as charming as it was in the 1850s when the picturesque ornamentation was added.  The bronze plaque still hangs by the side entrance and the doggedly persistent—and untrue—legend that Washington Irving lived in the house continues.