"Transportation" -- the Grand Central Terminal Clock Group

photo by Mj

On February 1, 1913 Warren & Wetmore's magnificent, $35 million Grand Central Terminal was completed.  Almost.

Included in the architects' design was a monumental sculptural grouping and clock.  Rising above the uppermost cornice, it would serve as the crowning touch to the sumptuous structure.

A postcard, depicting the proposed terminal, made a stab in the dark at the possible clock and sculpture. 

Paris sculptor Jules-Felix Coutan had won the commission for the group.  Coutan was well-chosen for the Beaux-Arts style work.  He had recently completed the sculpture France of the Renaissance for the exuberant Alexander III Bridge in Paris.

When the new Grand Central opened, Coutan was still at work in his Paris studio on the group entitled Transportation.  His finished model, one-quarter sized, finally arrived at the stone yards of William Bradley & Son in Long Island City over a year later, in May 1914.  There the architectural sculpture firm of John Donnelly set to work recreating the limestone figures in full size.  Among the firm's sculptors working on the project was Oliver N. Burdett, whose work also appears on significant buildings like the Morgan Library and New York Public Library.

The massive scale of the grouping, touted by The New York Times on June 14, 1914 as "World's Largest Sculpture Group," required the work to be completed in sections and pieced together.  The article explained "The group...is constructed like the front of a building; that is, it is built up in continuous layers of stone cemented together."

The work, 50 feet tall and 60 feet wide, would weigh over 1,000 tons on completion.  Designed to embrace the massive clock--crucial to an early 20th century train station--it was surmounted by a figure of Mercury, messenger of the gods as well as the god of travel, speed and commerce.

To his right reclined the figure of Hercules, who symbolized strength.  Coutan depicted the god with a less-brawny physique than expected.  The Times noted he "is surrounded by objects familiar in daily life.  Here are the cogwheel, the anchor, the anvil, and the beehive.  Also there are sheaves of wheat, and branches of oak."  Coutan's intention was, apparently, to focus less on Hercules' musculature so as to give him a more commercial and domestic focus.

"If the figure of Hercules is indicative of strength and action, that of Minerva, on the other side of the central figure, typifies thought and study," explained the article.

About two weeks before the group's completion, Walter Roberts of William Bradley & Son described the figures to a New York Times journalist.  Leading him to a huge unworked block of limestone, he said "This is a head for the lady over there, Minerva.  It weighs some fourteen tons.  We hope to get out of it also her curls and ornaments.  And that block of stone coming down the shop on the overhead crane is a little memorandum, a book or scroll, which she may peruse during the rest of her life."

Mercury was being worked on in two sections.  "Up to the waist line we are building him on this side of the shop, and on the other we are taking care of the rest of him."

The Times told its readers "Mercury will stand with right hand extended and holding in his left the magic wand said to exercise influence over living and dead, and to bestow wealth and prosperity."  Behind Mercury, an immense eagle spread its wings, extending its rather threatening head around the god's right leg.

When Grand Central neared completion (and opening) in 1913, Jules-Felix Coutan was still working on the sculpture in Paris.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

John Donnelly and William Bradley & Son completed the monumental task within six weeks of receiving the plaster model.   Installed above the Park Avenue entrance, the figures surmounted a broken pediment which embraced the gigantic Tiffany glass-faced clock.  At 13 feet in diameter it remains the largest example of Tiffany glass in the world.  On either side of the clock, cornucopias spilled sumptuous fruits and grains over the ledge.

Throughout the subsequent decades Transportation became alternatively known as the Glory of Commerce.  This is possibly because of one magazine account which identified Hercules as depicting "moral energy," Minerva as "mental energy," and Mercury as "symbolizing the glory of commerce."

The clock, the sculptures and the building itself were threatened several times in the 20th century.  In 1954 William Zeckendorf hired architect I. M. Pei to design an proposed 80-story structure on the site.  Pei's concept was a somewhat hour-glass shaped skyscraper.  And although in 1963 the Pan Am Building replaced the six-story Terminal office building; the main structure survived.

Grand Central was blackened with dirt by the second half of the century.  photo from the collection of the New York Public Library

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis was highly instrumental in thwarting Penn Central's 1968 plans to erect an office tower on top of Grand Central.  Among her arguments, she said "Is it not cruel to let our city die by degrees, stripped of all her proud monuments, until there will be nothing left of all her history and beauty to inspire our children?"

Grand Central was designated a New York City monument, saving the building.  In 1992 a complete restoration of the soot-blackened building was initiated.  Included in the 12-year project was the dismantling and restoration of the Tiffany Glass clock by Rohlf's Stained & Leaded Glass of Mount Vernon, New York.

photo copyright Bo Zaunders via http://www.dailymail.co.uk/travel/article-2271436/Grand-Central-Stations-100th-anniversary-A-palace-Manhattan.html

The studio replicated damaged or missing pieces, cleaned the existing elements, and reinstalled the restored clock face.  Today, as it was in 1914, the monumental sculptural group and clock are the focal point of one of Manhattan's most recognizable landmarks.

The Lost Manhattan Athletic Club -- Madison Avenue and 45th Street

P. J. Lauritzen released the above rendering in August 1890 (copyright expired)

A membership in one or more of the exclusive men’s clubs was a social necessity for wealthy gentlemen in the decades preceding the outbreak of Civil War.  As the century progressed, other clubs that were not purely social were founded—university clubs, professional clubs, and sporting clubs, for instance.

Among the latter was the Manhattan Athletic Club; an organization for sporty sons of millionaires who pursued a broad array of activities from robust sports like swimming, boxing, and track and field events, to the less physically-taxing billiards and pool.  The club was organized in November 1877 and for several years maintained an exclusive membership of just 33.  In 1880 the small group moved into its clubhouse at No. 524 Fifth Avenue.

The financial standing of the 33 members was evidenced in the rent--$9,000 a year—and the salaries paid to the staff of $7,000 a year.  That yearly overhead alone would amount to about $382,000 today.   Little by little, however, the original group opened its rosters to new members and by 1888 there were 1,500 members in total.

The staggering increase in membership meant, of course, that the old Fifth Avenue clubhouse was no longer adequate.    On August 3, 1888 The New York Times reported that the club had purchased the old Gospel Tabernacle Church on the southeast corner of Madison Avenue and 45th Street for $160,000.  The newspaper noted “The church will be torn down and a magnificent clubhouse built on the site.”

By the time the transfer of the property was announced, the confident club had already procured its architect and plans were in the works.  Peter J. Lauritzen was awarded the commission.  The young architect was currently working on another clubhouse—the lavish Union Club in Brooklyn—and the two buildings would reflect great similarities.

The New York Times offered its description of the proposed edifice.  “The new clubhouse will be a substantial five-story brick structure, with stone trimmings…The main entrance will be by broad white marble steps on Madison-avenue.  In the basement will be the plunge [swimming pool] and Turkish baths, a long-range shooting gallery, and say the club people, the finest bowling alley in the country.”

The one-ton cornerstone was laid on July 9, 1889 by Mayor Hugh J. Grant.  The Times wrote that given the size of the stone, the building committee “wisely gave his Honor the assistance of a derrick, the contractor, and a halfscore of brawny laborers to place it."

Lauritzen had promised “elegant parlors” modeled after the Union League Club which would take up half of the first floor; the other half given over to the pool and billiard room.  Half of the second and third floors was used for the two-story auditorium, “the lyceum;” and the remainder of those floors would contain private rooms for members.

Readers of the article got their first hint at the remarkably clever innovations to come.  “The auditorium will be so arranged that it can be quickly changed into a lawn tennis court.”  The fourth floor was nearly all members’ suites; and the fifth floor was occupied almost entirely by the gymnasium.

Nine days before the construction was completed The New York Times deemed the Manhattan Athletic Club’s new headquarters “the finest clubhouse of its kind in the world and [it] compares favorably with the houses of the leading social clubs of this city.”

from the collection of the New York Public Library

Lauritzen had produced a hefty brick. “red stone” and brownstone Romanesque Revival pile of turrets, a top floor loggia, arches, a “mosque-like tower,” and terra cotta trim.  An immense lion’s head, situated over a handsome juliette balcony on the corner of the second floor, had been exhibited in the Academy of Fine Arts in Philadelphia.  The Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide noted “The avenue front is surmounted by a Spanish tiled roof, supported on massive columns, elevated sufficiently to make a roof garden and tennis courts.” 

Below an art glass chandelier, two liveried employees wait to assist members checking in.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Inside were all the requisite rooms for an upscale social club—parlors, reading, smoking, and card rooms among them.  But The Guide pointed out that the architect’s focus was necessarily on the sporting activities of the members.  The 100 by 110 foot gymnasium had “all the known appliances, with a running track six feet wide, placed about twelve feet above the floor.”  The gymnasium was lit by an immense skylight.  On the same floor were boxing and fencing rooms and 1,000 lockers “and other conveniences.”

By the time the clubhouse was dedicated, on November 29, 1890, the cost was set at about $650,000, including land, demolition and construction—nearly $17.5 million in 2015.   The Times commented on the remarkable novelties like the roof garden “to be used for ice skating in Winter, and tennis and garden proper in the warmer months”; the 100-foot long swimming “tank” that was kept at a constant 74 degrees; the 125-foot long rifle range and the 60-foot pistol range.

 

Among the facilities were the Bowling Alleys (top), the state of the art Gymnasium, and the Wrestling Room (bottom)  photos New-York Tribune, December 19, 1901 (copyright expired)

The newspaper commented on the “spacious parlor” which it found elegantly furnished and included a large oaken fireplace.  Here the ceiling was hand-painted to imitate a tapestry.  Around the sides, “in graceful attitudes are statues of men of muscle, representing the sprint-runner in the act of darting away at the crack of the pistol, the sturdy shot-thrower, the man of the weights, and the fencer—all suggesting the athletic prowess which has done much to spread the club’s fame over this country and England.”

The auditorium was capable of seating 1,500, the main dining room could accommodate 200.  The Times pointed out that some not-so-athletic men had joined the club “expressly to avail themselves of the privileges of the clubhouse, the cuisine having been by no means overlooked when the application to join the organization was made.”

 

The members enthusiastically used the new facilities; sending the kitchen staff to the brink of exhaustion.  On February 1, 1891 The New York Times reported “Members of the Manhattan Athletic Club enjoyed another love feast last night.  Ever since the club took possession of its new clubhouse…the members have been keeping up festivities in one way or another, scarcely a night passing without some entertaining being provided, and this last demonstration was the club’s annual dinner.  Covers were laid in the theatre for 450 persons.”

Even with the additional 1,462 members; the club had over-extended itself.  On June 17, 1893 the Real Estate Record and Guide announced that the clubhouse was “under foreclosure.”

The building was taken over by a similar club, the Knickerbocker Athletic Club.  The New-York Tribune reported on December 29, 1901 that the gymnasium was “often used by a hundred men each day, most of whom are businessmen, glad to escape from their offices to the relaxation and exercise afforded by the apparatus in the big and well lighted gymnasium of the club.”

The Knickerbocker Athletic Club offered gymnastic classes, indoor baseball, swimming, basketball, a modern squash court, two handball courts, boxing classes, wrestling, water sports (including races with various kinds of strokes, diving championships, etc.), shooting, bowling, and pool and billiards.

The magnificent clubhouse would serve the Knickerbocker Athletic Club only a few years longer than it had been home to the Manhattan Athletic Club.  In 1902 the New-York Tribune announced that the club had “transferred its activities to Bayonne.”

Disposing of a massive clubhouse building like this one proved to be a monumental task.   It was sold in September to “Ballentine Brewery interests,” according to the Record and Guide; but the buyers apparently changed their minds and turned the property over in March 1903 for $500,000.  The buyer announced it would be altered “into a hotel.”  That plan, too, fell through when the big building was sold June 1903.

The gigantic building sat vacant for almost two years, when it was sold to John D. Crimmins and the Century Realty Company in January 1905.  They paid the same amount as the previous buyer. 

Crimmins and the realty firm were acting as agents for the actual buyer—Tiffany Studios.  Louis C. Tiffany’s burgeoning business prompted his move to the large building from his studio on Fourth Avenue.  He personally designed and oversaw the renovations, which went beyond the interior layout.  In updating the Romanesque Revival he ordered the removal of the stone balcony that spanned the three centered openings of the second floor.  It ended in disaster.

At around 4:30 on the afternoon of August 28, 1905 workmen were busy at work on the project.  Suddenly the heavy balcony crashed, “burying under several steel beams and the debris of brick and mortar eight or ten workmen, six of whom were more or less injured,” reported The Times.

The newspaper’s description of “more or less injured” was somewhat understated.  Thomas Callahan’s back was broken and he died a two and a half hours later.  Anthony Winkler not only suffered two broken legs, but doctors advised “he may not recover.”

By the end of October Tiffany had completed renovations.   The New York Times said of the building, “For a series of years it lay vacant, a big brownstone elephant on the hands of its owners.”  The newspaper explained “Mr. Louis C. Tiffany, who is the founder and moving spirit of the Tiffany Studios, has turned the main floor of the club, where the restaurant was, into a big apartment given up to the old furniture, curios, and bric-a-brac which were added to the other departments when Schmitt Brothers joined the firm.”  

The theater and dining room were now the stained glass department.  “Stained-glass windows may be seen about the mezzanine or gallery floor of the old theatre.  Objects in Favrile glass, in enamel, and in the deep-toned pottery of the sort original with Tiffany are shown on tables in the rooms off the main gallery.”  The gymnasium had been made over for the textile department—rugs, screens, hangings, for instance.

Tiffany Studios announced its move in October 1905 Scribner's Magazine (copyright expired)

Louis C. Tiffany’s personal tastes trumped some of the now-dated designs of P. J. Lauritzen.  The newspaper reported “Apparently, the architectural details of the south door are not to Mr. Tiffany’s liking, for he is having the round marble pillars shut out by piers of polished granite.  The elevator has been condemned as in bad taste, and its elaborate decorations ruthlessly hidden with cloths.

Once it was established in the former clubhouse, Tiffany Studios continued creating some of the most beautiful and costly decorative articles in the world.  Bronze lamps, leaded glass shades, stained glass windows, desk accessories, rugs and other items were all designed and manufactured in the Madison Avenue building.

The Tiffany Studios addition can be seen to the rear -- photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Cleverly, Tiffany used the building as a marketing and exhibition space as well.  When the seven windows for Robert Graves’ mausoleum were completed in 1910—a series of glass panels for the octagonal structure what presented a 360-degree landscape—they were put on exhibition here for ten days.  And the following year the extraordinary “glass curtain” for the National Theatre in Mexico City was displayed here was well.  That piece contained more than 2,500 square feet of glass mosaic and weighed 27 tons.  The curtain was designed to be raised and lowered by hydraulics.

Tiffany Studio designers work on drafting tables (top).  The main staircase had become a showroom of sorts with various lamps on the newel posts and windows and other designs on the walls.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Perhaps Louis C. Tiffany had underestimated his future needs; but on September 20, 1911 it was announced that the building was being enlarged.  The Real Estate Record and Guide said “An eight story addition…will be tacked on and one or two stories added to the present building.”

Manhattan properties are very often the victims of the land value on which they sit.  On August 24, 1912 the Record and Guide pointed out that while Tiffany had paid half a million for the former clubhouse, the real estate was now valued at $1.25 million.  Whether it was the soaring land value, the need for more space by Tiffany Studios, or a combination of both; the chunky stone and brick building was sold in May 1916.  In reporting the sale the Record and Guide pointed out “The corner comprises one of the most valuable building sites in the Grand Central Terminal district.”

The building sat unused for another six years before being demolished, to be replaced by the massive Roosevelt Hotel, designed by George B. Post & Sons, which survives.

Irving Underhill photographed the newly-completed building in 1924 -- from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The 1924 Roosevelt Hotel -- Madison Ave at 45th Street

Irving Underhill photographed the newly-completed building in 1924 -- from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

On midnight, January 16, 1920 the selling and manufacture of intoxicants became illegal in the United States.  The arrival of Prohibition, which some thought would reduce crime and domestic violence, and enhance living conditions for all proved just the opposite.  The enormous increase in illegal activities would not be noticeable for some time; but the effect on millions who were suddenly without jobs was immediate.

In Manhattan bartenders, brewery and distillery workers, waitresses, liquor store employees and sommeliers were suddenly out of work.  And Prohibition dealt a heavy and unexpected blow to the cash flow of the city’s grand hotels whose wine cellars were stocked with expensive and rare vintages.

Within months hotels failed.  On July 4, 1920 the New-York Tribune noted that three of New York’s resident hotels, including the Holland House and 20-year old Manhattan House, had shut their doors.   One year after Prohibition went into effect John Jacob Astor closed his elegant Knickerbocker Hotel.

The Tiffany Studios Building stood at Madison Avenue and 45th Street -- photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

And so it was perhaps startling to some when on September 2, 1922 the New-York Tribune announced that a $6 million hotel, 18 stories tall, was being designed by the well-known architectural firm of George B. Post & Sons.

Two months later, on November 25, 1922 both the height and the cost had risen.  The Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide reported that demolition had started on the massive brick and stone Tiffany Studios Building on Madison Avenue at 45^th Street where a “palatial hostelry, to be known as the Roosevelt Hotel” was to be built.  The structure had sprouted two more floors and the cost was now estimated at $10 million.

George B. Post & Sons released its rendering in November 1922 (copyright expired)

The project was spearheaded by a syndicate known as the United Hotels Company of America.  The Record & Guide reported on the projected 1,107 rooms and baths, “several spacious restaurants and private dining rooms.” 

Engulfing the entire block from Madison to Vanderbilt Avenue and from 45^th to 46^th Streets, it took advantage of the site directly over the Grand Central tracks.  The Guide noted it “will have an entrance from the Grand Central Terminal, which will be a great advantage to incoming and outgoing railroad passengers.”  In addition, the New-York Tribune noted on November 19 that the hotel was to have “a series of rooms which will be reserved for persons who wish to remain overnight only or for a few hours while waiting for train connections.”

The planners included stores and leased office space along the sidewalk level.  It was an unusual move and according to the 1987 New York 1930, Architecture and Urbanism Between The Two World Wars, was intended to compensate for the lost revenues caused by Prohibition.

Less than five months into construction, the hotel’s leasing agent, Douglas L. Elliman & Co. reported that already more than half of the store space was rented.  Among the “important” leases was signed by the Knox Hat Company, whose upscale store traditionally provided headwear for United States Presidents.

The hotel's massive size was captured in a postcard (copyright expired)

Just under two years after construction began, the Roosevelt Hotel neared completion.  On September 14, 1924 The New York Times noted that, once again, the height and the cost had changed—now 22 stories tall and costing $12 million.  The exterior of the massive brick and stone structure melded with the Adamesque architecture of the other buildings of what was then called “the Grand Central Group;” and later known as “Terminal City.”

But inside, George B. Post & Sons drew from colonial America.  The 42^nd Street vestibule contained a replica of the doorway into St. Paul’s Chapel downtown, built in 1764.  It opened into a lobby dripping with American references.   The architects used Homewood, an 1809 Baltimore mansion, and the New York City Hall for inspiration here.  Iron panels flanking the stairs were copies of those in City Hall.  The iron balcony railings were taken from an old mansion on Irving Place, and the iron rails in the arcades were copied from leaded glass sidelights of various colonial American doorways.

Reproduction Chippendale chairs and colonial details added to the historical motif.

For the 20-foot wide paneled lounge facing Madison Avenue, inspiration was taken from a room of the colonial house in Coventry, Connecticut installed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  The New York Times added “A handsome and ornamental office desk screen is based on the original in the Hamilton House (1812), Philadelphia.  ‘Homewood’ provided the designs for the cornice in the ‘working lobby’ and also in the mezzanine balcony.”

Other colonial homes used for inspiration were the 18^th century Octagon House in Washington D. C., Kenmore, a 1753 Virginia mansion, the 1800 Gordon House in Savannah, and the Charleston, South Carolina Gibbs House built in 1752.

A postcard presented an elegant lobby.

The Roosevelt Hotel, named for the late President Theodore Roosevelt, was formally opened on September 22, 1924.  Although The New York Times remarked the following day that “It is equipped with the latest devices for service;” its planners cleverly did not target the millionaires who came and went at the Waldorf-Astoria or Plaza Hotels; but businessmen and visiting families.

When Theodore Roosevelt died, political cartoonist J. N. “Ding” Darling published a cartoon entitled the “Long, Long Trail.”  It depicted the former President in his Rough Rider outfit, waving good-bye as he rode off into the clouds.  On December 8, 1925 a bronze reproduction of the cartoon, four and one-half by six feet, was unveiled in the main lobby of the hotel in the presence of several hundred people, including many of the Roosevelt family.

Earlier that year the Roosevelt Hotel had added an innovative concept—a radio station atop the hotel.  The first transmission from station WRNY was broadcast on the evening of June 12, 1925.  And while the schedule included the expected musical programs “in which operatic singers and Broadway stars” took part, there was also a weekly educational program for high school students interested in science and technology.

On that first night, the venerable politician and attorney Chauncey M. Depew spoke to the children.  He began saying that many of the youthful audience “have made their own radio machines in whole or in part.”  He echoed the feelings of many 21^st century seniors who feel overwhelmed by the whirl of new technology.  “The boys and girls of today have so many opportunities for their mental and spiritual advancement, which never existed before, that we older people wonder how we got on at all.”

He then went on to proclaim that technological advances just might make life worse than in the good old day.  He pointed out that the greatest thinkers of history—Plato, Socrates and Aristotle—“had none of these modern wonders.”  And the greatest orators and artists “are still unapproachable by our times.”

The youngsters listening may have had more hope when Dr. Lee De Forest took the mic.  He was the inventor of the modern vacuum tube and the “phonofilm,” the new motion picture film that included sound.  Instead, he tossed cold water on their anticipation of television.

“Mr. De Forest said that the intricate difficulties which must be overcome before moving pictures in the home by radio are an every-night occurrence, are such that ‘most of us will not live to see this miracle,’” reported The New York Times.  “He also declared that he knew of no practical method of eliminating static disturbance.”

Although Queen Marie of Rumania stopped over at the Roosevelt Hotel in October 1926; she was the exception among royalty and heads of state.  Instead the hotel played host to politicians (many of whom ran their election campaigns from offices here), entertainment celebrities, and athletes.  It was also, interestingly, the favorite of the class of new American heroes—aviators.

Typical of the events held in the Roosevelt in the 1920s was the star-studded 1926 gala benefit given by the Authors’ League of America.  The ballroom was filled with luminaries from the stage and society, as well as “well-known persons of letters.”  Authors like Edna Ferber rubbed shoulders with Lulu Belle who was currently playing Lorelei Lee on Broadway in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.  And cartoonist Rube Goldberg did a skit with Harry Herschfield and Milt Gross.

Another was the February 1927 dinner for Notre Dame coach Knute Rockne hosted by alumni.  During the dinner he announced he was considering a game between Notre Dame and the University of Hawaii during the 1927 Christmas season.

What would be not only a hotel tradition, but a national one, began when Guy Lombardo and his orchestra first performed at the Roosevelt Grill on October 3, 1929.  The Royal Canadians would continue playing “the sweetest music this side of Heaven” here for three decades.  The music was transmitted live into the guest rooms via radio.

The annual New Year’s Eve broadcast from the ballroom which featured the orchestra playing Auld Lang Syne became synonymous with New Year’s Eve for families across the nation.  An up-and-coming bandleader, Lawrence Welk, got his start by filling in for Lombardo and the Royal Canadians when they took their summer breaks to play on Long Island each year.

In the 1920s and ‘30s, it would not be unusual to see celebrated aviators like Charles A. Lindberg, Richard E. Byrd or Amelia Earhart Putnam at a dinner in the Roosevelt Hotel.  But on the night of April 9, 1931 they were here not as guests of honor; but to pay tribute to a weatherman.

The next day The New York Times reported “Aviators who have crossed the Atlantic in heavier-than-air machines gathered last night for dinner at the Roosevelt Hotel to pay tribute to Dr. James H. Kimball of the New York office of the United States Weather Bureau as the man who, more than any other, had been responsible for the success of their flights.”

Nationally-famous journalist and newscaster Lowell Thomas was toastmaster and the room was filled with a who’s-who of the aeronautical field.  In addition to Lindberg, Byrd and Earhart were Clarence Chamberlin, Bernt Balchen, Frank E. Courtney, Armand Lotti and James Fitzmaurice, among others.  A message from President Herbert Hoover was read.

The system of underground tunnels linking the hotel to the train station and to other locations proved to be a convenience not only to guests, but to a criminal on July 31, 1931.  Mary Gilmartin had been the hotel’s cashier for several years.  Employees received their pay in cash and every afternoon at around 2:30 she would carry a tin box containing the day’s payroll for the afternoon and evening shifts from the paymaster’s office on the second floor to the cashier’s office on the main floor.  In the Depression years, the $5,000 payroll, in the neighborhood of $78,000 in 2015, was a tempting target.

The 27-year old woman picked up the box that afternoon, as always, and headed for the elevator.  Sitting in the corridor was a young man who twirled his brown felt hat on his finger.  Mary paid little attention to him as she pressed the elevator button.   She was suddenly attacked and the man fled with the box into the fire stairs eight feet away.

Mary ran back to the paymaster’s office and signaled all the watchmen at the hotel entrances.  The fire entrance led to a passageway under Vanderbilt Avenue, another under the main entrance to the hotel, and also to a corridor leading to an employee’s exit on 46^th Street.

The crook, who apparently had scouted Mary’s routine for several days and had his escape route well planned, slipped past all the watchmen.  Detectives surmised he had been an employee at one time.  The robber, about 25 years old, successfully made off with the unmarked bills.

Happy days were anticipated by the hotel industry when the end of Prohibition became imminent.  The Roosevelt Hotel planned a festive “Funeral of Old Man Prohibition” at “a repeal ball in costume.”  The New York Times reported on December 5, 1933 that already more than 1,200 reservations had been booked.

“At the stroke of midnight, twelve models will trumpet reveille, a burial ceremony will conclude with the opening of the casket supposed to contain the remains of Prohibition, which will let out, according to the announcement, ‘a beautiful female figure symbolic of the returning spirit of Bacchus.’”

But the repeal of Prohibition came a few months too late for the Roosevelt Hotel.  The Depression had taken its toll and for some time its management had denied rumors that the hotel was in trouble.  But in 1934 the rumored became fact when the Roosevelt was put into receivership and the courts approved a $25,000 bid on the hotel that had cost $12 million.

At mid-century, the Rough Rider Cocktail lounge featured palomino-printed upholstery and frescoes of Roosevelt's Rough Riders.

Conrad Hilton purchased the Roosevelt Hotel in 1943, calling it “a fine hotel.”  The Hilton chain was forced to sell it 13 years later, in April 1956, as part of an Anti-trust suit filed by the Government.

Although the Roosevelt Hotel continued to be a favorite spot for campaign headquarters—Thomas E Dewey not only lived here but ran his Presidential headquarters in the building, and Nelson A. Rockefeller had his Gubernatorial headquarters here in 1958, as did Kenneth B. Keating who was campaigning for Senate—changing times and an aging structure posed problems in the 1960s.

The famous Grill Room was closed the weekend before Christmas in 1963 “with no plans for reopening,” according to The New York Times; and in September 1962 newspapers announced “An Era Ends” when Guy Lombardo’s 33-year stretch came to an end.

Trouble continued in 1980 when, on July 19, the Colonial Room nightclub was destroyed by a flash fire and a month later the hotel received bad press when a Pennsylvania delegate to the Democratic National Convention, Cynthia Friedman, was robbed at knife point in the hotel corridor.

A year earlier the Pakistan International Airlines, heavily backed by Prince Faisal bin Khalid bin Abdulaziz Al Saud of Saudi Arabia, signed a long-term lease on the Roosevelt, with an option to purchase after 20 years.   Nevertheless, the hotel, growing ever more dated, would not receive a face lift until that lease was up.

When the Pakistan International Airlines exercised its option to buy, it spent not only $36.5 million for the property, but initiated a $65 million renovation which prompted the ABA Journal on August 5, 1998 to proclaim it “once again reflects the simple splendor of its glittering past.”

Another updating was announced on January 1, 2011.  It resulted in the amenities expected by 21^st century travelers, including a rooftop lounge, fitness facility and Wi-Fi—none of which Chauncey Depew would have found necessary.   George B. Post & Sons’ handsome façade and historic-inspired interiors were little changed. 

photo by Billy Hathorn

The hotel has appeared in about a dozen motion pictures and in popular television shows like Mad Men.  Today the Roosevelt Hotel is the last unaltered hotel of Terminal City—built at a time when the Grand Central area bustled with the comings and goings of thousands of business travelers who needed a place to stay.