The St. Francis Court - 583 Riverside Drive

image via eqarchitects.com

On September 29, 1905, the architectural firm of Neville & Bagge filed plans for a six-story "brick and stone tenement" at the northeast corner of Riverside Drive and 135th Street.  (The term "tenement" at the time referred to any multi-family structure.)  Designed for developer J. V. Signell & Co., it would cost $150,000 to erect, or about $5.5 million in 2026 terms.

Completed in 1906, Neville & Bagge's overall neo-Colonial design included a two-story limestone base that supported four floors of variegated Flemish bond brick.  Charred header bricks gave the illusion of age.  Turret-like rounded bays gave dimension.  A handsome stone balustrade sat atop the bracketed cornice.

Apartment Houses of the Metropolis, 1908 (copyright expired)

The St. Francis Court had six apartments per floor ranging from five to eight rooms.  The 1908 Apartment Houses of the Metropolis noted that the finishes were "in hardwood, oak, mahogany and curly birch," and the bedrooms "in white enamel [with] mahogany doors."  

Apartment Houses of the Metropolis, 1908 (copyright expired)

Because electrical service was not reliable, the apartments had both gas and electric lighting.  The upscale amenities included "long distance telephone in each apartment."  Rents ranged from $720 to $1,500 per year, or $4,400 per month for the most expensive by today's conversion.

Among the initial residents were the Powers family, who had recently relocated from Maysville, Kentucky.  Mrs. Powers, who was a widow, lived here with her young adult children, Mary and John J.  

Mary Powers attended the exclusive Brantwood Hall girls' finishing school in Bronxville, New York.  She graduated in June 1910.  A classmate, Eda Bigger, was also from Maysville, Kentucky.  Rather than immediately returning home, Eda spent the summer in the Powers apartment.  The New York Times remarked, "Both are members of prominent Kentucky families, and were well-known in the social circles of Lawrence Park, Bronxville, during the school season."  

On July 9, Mary and Eda took a train to Bronxville to have lunch with two classmates.  The four young women chatted after lunch until Mary and Eda realized they were in danger of missing the 4:19 train back to New York.  As they neared the station, the southbound train was already at the platform.  The New York Times reported, "although the gates were down, and despite the cries of many commuters who were horrified to see a northbound train approaching on the other track, they ran around one of the stanchions holding an arm of the gate."   Mary and Eda, who were 20 and 22 years old respectively, were struck by the northbound train.

Eda Bigger was thrown 20 feet while Mary Powers was caught underneath the engine and dragged several hundred feet.  Her left leg was severed below the knee and her skull fractured.  The New York Times wrote, "The shoes of both young women were torn from their feet, and their costly Summer gowns were almost torn into ribbons."  The train crew treated the two women and then rushed them in automobiles to the Lawrence Hospital.

The New York Times reported that Mary's mother was notified by telephone.  She "went from New York on an express train.  She was on the verge of collapse and was looked after by friends," said the article.  Two days later, the newspaper reported that Mary had died.  "Her body will be shipped to Maysville, Ky.," said the article.  It noted, "Miss Eda Bigger...passed a favorable night, but the heat had a bad effect and last night her condition was far from favorable."

Frederic and Elise Timme were also early residents.  Elise was born in Germany in 1837 and she married Frederic in 1908.  Frederic was her second husband; her first, Charles Boettcher, was deceased.  Elise died on November 10, 1911 and her will raised eyebrows.  Her estate was valued at about $4 million in today's money, "principally of realty," according to The New York Times.  She left $10,000 (about $340,000 today) to the German Hospital and Dispensary "in memory of her former husband."  She additionally left the equivalent of $954,000 to Charles Boettcher's nieces and nephews.  The New York Times reported that she "divided her furniture...between Lizzie Brown and Agnes Fuechsel."  (What Frederic Timme was going to sit and sleep upon is unclear.)

Elise did not ignore Frederic in the will.  He inherited a life income of a $25,000 trust fund and "a talking machine appraised at $100."

Unmarried resident Isabel Rea, who lived here in 1912, typified the progressive young women of her generation.  On November 10, The Sun reported on the 20,000 women who participated in the suffrage parade on Fifth Avenue.  The lengthy article said in part:

The sidewalk crowds said a mighty "A-ah!" and thousands of hands clapped as Miss Isabel Rea of 583 Riverside Drive now came along as Joan of Arc astride a white horse panoplied in crimson plush.  Joan of Arc wore glittering armor and carried a long sword.  She led the Joan of Arc's division with President Nellie B. Van Slingeria of the league heading the long columns of foot soldiers.

At one point, Isabel suffered a brief wardrobe malfunction.  "At Thirty-fourth street Joan of Arc had trouble with her sword, but again Inspector Lahey came to the rescue and recovered it," said the article.

Clara Skolnik moved into the St. Francis Court in 1913 after leaving her husband, violinist Gregor Skolnik.  The couple was married in 1907 when Gregor was 19 and Clara was 31.  Shortly afterward, Gregor realized he had made a mistake.  On September 13, 1913 he filed for separation.  His complaint said in part: "Since the marriage [he] has never eaten a meal at home cooked by anyone other than himself, the defendant absolutely refusing to cook or provide for the plaintiff in any way."  

Gregor's weight dropped from 175 to 130 pounds, partly, said the complaint, "to the mental strain" from "language with which his wife addressed him on his return home from late rehearsals."  Her jealousy extended to his 18-year-old sister, a violin prodigy whom he was training.  When he suggested that he would have the marriage annulled, Clara told him "she would shoot him if he tried to do so."

Clara insisted that he give up music and go into business.  That resulted in disaster.  The New York Times reported, "he lost several thousand dollars."  When he was at the verge of bankruptcy, Clara left him and moved into the St. Francis Court.  She earned $100 a week as a dress designer (about $3,250 today).  Skolnik said she "was in a position to bear part of his business losses" but "refused to do so."

As it turned out, Clara's walking out had positive results.  On September 14, 1913, The New York Times reported that Gregor Skolnik "will be concertmeister of the Chicago Opera Company during the coming season."

Mrs. Abbie Manion had an extra bedroom in her apartment in 1913.  She rented it to Leopold Sulzberger, described by The Sun as "a quiet man of 45 years."  As it turned out, Sulzberger chose the St. Francis Court location because he "was very much in love with a young woman of the neighborhood," as reported by The Sun.  He would be called a stalker today.  

Sulzberger sat for hours every day on a bench in Riverside Park.  He confided to a policeman named Manning that he suspected the young woman he loved "of accepting the attentions of other men."  He explained that he would sit there "to see who her callers were and to learn whether she was in the habit of going out with other men."

On the morning of January 2, 1914, Mrs. Manion smelled gas coming from Sulzberger's room.  She found a policeman, who coincidentally was Officer Manning.  He broke open the bedroom door and immediately recognized the unconscious Sulzberger as the man to which he had spoken in the park.  He was taken to the Knickerbocker Hospital where, although his condition was deemed serious, he was held as a prisoner, charged with attempted suicide.

At the time, Clifford L. C. Porter shared an apartment with his widowed mother, Katherine, and his maternal grandmother, Lucy Paget.  The 19-year-old was studying law while also working for the publishing firm George H. Doran Company as a proof reader.  The New-York Tribune said, however, "What they didn't know was that he had great ambition to excel as a writer himself, and that when he went home at night he would sit up until 3 o'clock in the morning, sometimes, toiling at his writing."

At 3:00 on the afternoon of July 1, 1915, two shots rang out in the Porter apartment.  The New-York Tribune reported that Lucy Paget was home, "but, old and deaf, she heard nothing."  But the building's superintendent, August Carter, heard the shots.  He called the manager, and they went to the apartment.

The men forced young Porter's door, which was locked, and found [Clifford] lying on the floor, fully dressed, with two bullet holes in his head.  A 32-calibre automatic Colt revolver lay beside him.

Clifford Porter, who was now 20 years old, had ensured that his suicide would be successful.  The New York Herald reported that before shooting himself, "he had taken fatal doses of aconite and gelsemium."  Porter's supervisor at work said he "could think of no reason for the deed."  Lucy Paget told reporters that the young man "had been studying too hard."  She insisted that he was not in love.

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

A celebrated tenant at the time was playwright Howard Prentiss Taylor, who lived here with his wife, the former Agnes Chalmers.  Born in Louisville, Kentucky in 1839, he went to San Francisco as a boy where he got a job as a "printer's devil" at the newspaper The Argonaut.  (A printer's devil was an apprentice who did tasks like mixing inks and retrieving type.)

He later erected the Grand Opera House in San Francisco and was its manager for many years.  He later worked closely with Sam Clemens and collaborated with him in converting A Connecticut Yankee at the Court of King Arthur into a stage play.  Among the numerous plays he wrote were The Little Pauper, Nell Gwynne, The Pulse of New York, and The Jolly Widow.  His final book was The Idiosyncrasies of Mark Twain.

In 1910, Taylor began suffering from rheumatism.  He died in his apartment here at the age of 78 on July 7, 1916.

America's entry to World War I made heroes of at least two residents.  On July 12, 1918, The New York Times reported on the ceremony on the grounds of a château on the banks of the Marne--"the first large presentation of distinguished service crosses awarded to members of the United States Marine Corps for their heroic deeds in the fighting northwest of Château-Thierry in the month of June."  Among the marines so honored was the St. Francis Court resident Surgeon Ray C. Farwell.

The following month, on August 18, The Sun began an article saying, "Christopher W. Ford of 583 Riverside Drive, New York, a Lieutenant in the Lafayette Escadrille, fast is approaching the 'ace' class of American aviators."  In the past four months, Ford had shot down four German aircraft and had been awarded the Croix de Guerre.

Lieutenant Christopher W. Ford, The Sun, August 18, 1918 (copyright expired)

Oil salesman John N. Redmond, who lived here as early as 1919, arrived in New York City in 1914 from North Dakota.  He

first caught the attention of law enforcement in September 1919.  Several brokerage firms had received bomb threats and on September 10 The Sun reported that they "were traced yesterday by the police to John N. Redmond, 38, of 583 Riverside Drive."  The article said he was committed to the psychopathic ward of Bellevue Hospital for observation.  Detective Sergeant John F. McCoy explained that Redmond "believed himself to have been victimized by Wall Street brokers and 'defrauded of millions.'"

Redmond somehow escaped prosecution, but he was soon back in jail.  On April 8, 1920, he was arrested in the Robert Treat Hotel in Newark, New Jersey.  For the past five years he had been sending "amatory" letters to a socially prominent Newark woman--more than 500 of them.  Oddly enough, said the article, "he never has met the woman, nor she him."  The New-York Tribune described the letters as "obscene" and The Sun added that they caused the woman to have a nervous breakdown.

New York Herald, August 24, 1922 (copyright expired)

Resident Delores Dixon shocked the nation when she filed suit against baseball star Babe Ruth on March 13, 1923 for $50,000 "on the ground that he is the father of her child," as reported by The New York Times.  The newspaper described Dixon as "19 years old, an orphan, without brothers or sisters," and was "being kept in seclusion."  Her lawyer had notified Ruth of the accusation in November.  After the "home run king" conferred with his wife, they agreed to fight the case in court.  Babe Ruth called Dixon's allegations "blackmail."

Delores Dixon's attorney told reporters that she had met Ruth in the spring of 1922.  "He used to be with her four and five times a week, taking her out frequently in his car."  But the two would not face off in court.  A month later, on April 28, The New York Times reported that Dixon's suit had been withdrawn.  Babe Ruth's attorney, Hyman Bushel, explained to reporters that Delores "admitted that the suit was the outcome of a 'frame-up.'"

Living here in 1956 was Robert Moscowitz, who was 70 years old and blind.  Around 7:00 on the night of June 29, he left 583 Riverside Drive heading to Lena Trunk's "cider stuble" at 221 East 83rd Street.  (A cider stuble was a bar that served only cider.)  Just before he arrived, 28-year-old Edward Sobek barged in and flourished a toy pistol.  He demanded that Lena Trunk give him $50.  Instead, Lena "dashed out the door and called the police."  Unaware of the situation, Moscowitz walked in.  Edward Sobek beat and robbed him of his $1.65 and inexpensive wristwatch and fled.  He did not get far.  Shortly after police arrived, they captured Sobek.

George Xavier lived here as early as 1976.  The 23-year-old worked as a parking lot attendant.  On the night of October 16 that year, he was playing cards with several men in front of 236 West 52nd Street.  An argument ensued and Xavier was fatally stabbed.

A renovation completed in February 2003 resulted in the Dorothy Day Apartments.  It was likely at this time that the stone balustrade was removed from the roofline.  The building now holds 70 affordable apartments for families in need.  It also provides an early childhood education center and on-site employment office.  Also in the building is the Rio II Gallery.

The 1913 Hamilton Theatre - 3560-3568 Broadway

 

photo by Jim Henderson

Both Benjamin S. Moss and Solomon Brill were major players in the New York City vaudeville theater industry in the early years of the 20th century.  Moss had begun his career with William Fox and Marcus Loew before striking out on his own, and Brill was among the first to establish theaters specifically for motion pictures.  The two entered a short-lived partnership around 1910 and on February 27, 1912 broke ground for a combination vaudeville-motion picture theater on the northwest corner of Broadway and 146th Street.

Moss and Brill commissioned one of the foremost theater architects of the time, Thomas W. Lamb, to design what they intended to call the Lafayette Theatre.  Before the doors opened they would rename it the Hamilton.  Construction was completed by the year's end and the opening was scheduled for January 23, 1913.

Lamb had created an imposing three story structure clad in gleaming white terra cotta atop a polished granite water table.  A grand bronze and glass marquee stretched over the Broadway sidewalk and a smaller version covered the 146th Street exit.  Majestic windows within two-story arches dominated the design, the spandrels of which were upheld by cast iron caryatids painted to mimic patinaed bronze.  The terra cotta cornice was topped with theatrical masks.

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

It appears that Benjamin Moss was the driving force behind the 1,857-seat Hamilton Theatre.  Two years after its opening The Evening World said, "Mr. Moss, with business sagacity and common sense, placed his houses where theatre-going is not regarded as a luxury, but rather a part of the regular life of the community--people who look upon the theatre with clean amusements as one of the necessities of life because of the rest and recreation it gives them...It was when Mr. Moss realized the growth as a neighborhood of the Washington Heights section that he built his first theatre, the Hamilton, at One Hundred and Forty-sixth Street and Broadway, which proved successful from the beginning."

The Hamilton Theatre, like all the great silent picture houses, was fitted with an organ, this one manufactured by the M. P. Moller Pipe Organ Company.  But motion pictures were not the only thing audiences came for--it was vaudeville that took center stage at the Hamilton in the beginning.  And for that purpose the Hamilton Theatre had an in-house orchestra.    

Two days after the theater's opening The Evening World reported on the next week's acts, "May Elinore, the Clemenzo Brothers, Klein Brothers and Schall, Benson and Bell and others."

Spacious theaters were often leased for benefit performances and such was the case in December that year when a fund-raising drive was initiated to erect a new building for the Washington Heights Hospital.  On December 11 a buffet supper at Healy's restaurant a block to the south was held, during which Anna K. Silverstein announced "that she had secured the Hamilton Theatre...for Saturday matinee and that all receipts would go to the fund," according to The Sun.

Moss and Brill went separate ways in 1915.  Brill was no longer interested in vaudeville entertainment and wanted to focus solely on films.  Benjamin Moss continued his successful blend at the Hamilton Theatre.  On February 9, 1917 The Evening World reported that "Pride," the second in the series of McClure Pictures "Seven Deadly Sins," would begin the following Monday, and that on Wednesday night, "Shirley Mason will appear in person."

Motion Picture News, November 11, 1916 (copyright expired)

In 1920 Benjamin Moss partnered with E. F. Albee of the Keith & Proctor chain of vaudeville theaters to form the Greater New York Vaudeville Theaters Corp.  The Hamilton was renamed B. F. Keith's Hamilton Theater, although the mix of live vaudeville and "photo-plays" continued here until Moss's retirement in 1928.  Thereafter the Radio-Keith-Orpheum Radio Pictures (RKO) leased the venue and eliminated live acts.  A sound system was installed, making the RKO Hamilton Theater one of the first real "talking picture" theaters in New York City.  The organ was removed in 1940.

An electric blade sign announces "Vaudeville - Photo Plays."  photo by Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In 1947 RKO redecorated the interior.  The Foot-Rite shoe store was operating from the commercial space at 3560 Broadway in April that year.  By the summer of 1951 Wafex, Inc., makers of diet pills, and the Cushman Bakery operated from the location.  Thomas Lamb's ornate lobby was modernized in 1954, when the end of the line for the motion picture theater was on the near horizon.  The curtain closed for the last time in 1958.

RKO first leased the venue for sporting events like boxing, and later as a discotheque.  The building was purchased by a church in 1965 which used the auditorium continuing to lease the storefronts.  In 1985, for instance, the Broadway Fried Chicken was in 3560 Broadway.  The church left around 1989, selling the property to real estate mogul Alex DiLorenzo.

According to the Daily News on March 29, 1990, "DiLorenzo is the heir to one of the city's biggest family real estate fortunes.  Real estate records show that he owns scores of buildings."  The spotlight was focused on him that year because of the fatal fire that broke out in the illegal Happy Land social club in one of his buildings, killing 87 people.  Investigators probed into his holdings and found other illegal nightclubs, including one in the former Hamilton Theater building.  DiLorenzo was served with a vacate order from the Buildings Department in March 1990.

DiLorenzo sold the building to investors who walled off the auditorium.  In 1995 the grand marquees were taken down.  At some point the ornate cornice was removed and a brick parapet installed.  The auditorium has sat empty since then, its paint peeling and dust settling on the plush chairs.

In July 1998 the Hamilton Palacio opened in the front section of the building.  The New York Times reported, "Signs written in English and Spanish direct shoppers to discounted toiletries, clothing, luggage and furniture.  Bedframes with mattresses begin at $250, briefcases $10 and T-shirts 3 for $5."  The 2008 book Broke-Ass Stuart's Guide to Living Cheaply in New York City was more direct, saying, "this ornately designed building now houses a three-story compound of cheap stuff.  Oh, how the mighty have fallen, wouldn't you agree Mr. Hamilton Theatre?...It's like Kmart, but shittier."

Topless caryatids pose below a rusting spandrel panel at the second floor.

The property was purchased in November 2012 by the 146th Upper Broadway Holdings LLC, putting the fate of the relatively intact auditorium in question.  (The exterior was given individual landmark status in 2000.)  In 2014 The New York Times columnist Christopher Gray mused, "It might become a big box store or a...well, it is hard to imagine what might pay the taxes, let alone the rent."

In 2020 developers Omni New York and Brisa Builders announced competing plans for the property.  Omni proposed to demolish the theater while leaving the façade intact (a practice known as facadism), and erecting two 14-story buildings on the site which would include around 200 affordable housing apartments.  Brisa's proposal called for an 18-story tower and a 10-building on the adjoining vacant lot.  The two structures would include 250 affordable housing apartments.

photo via loopnet.com

Both developers had decided that rehabilitating Thomas W. Lamb's auditorium--still largely intact--was not cost efficient.  The fate of the historic structure has apparently not been decided.

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The Wm. J. McGinley House - 420 Convent Avenue

In 1897 developer Mary Cahill was erecting two nearly identical rows of houses on Convent Avenue--Nos.408 through 418, and Nos. 420 through 430.  They were separated by West 148th Street.  Designed by architect John Hauser, the residences were a happy marriage of the Renaissance and Romanesque Revival styles.  The two anchor homes on the corners were, of course, the most desirable with windows on three sides (an ample service alley behind the houses provided an unusual amount of light and ventilation to the rear).

Despite its Convent Avenue address, the entrance of No. 420 was situated squarely on 148th Street above a dog-legged stoop.  A mirror image of No. 418, the basement and first floor levels were faced in rough-cut limestone.  Hauser carried the material the full height of the Convent Avenue elevation.  The upper floors were clad in beige brick and the pressed metal cornice was decorated with foliate-filled panels.

No. 420 became home to Walter H. Tappan and his wife, Jennie.  The couple had married on April 15, 1895 and had a one-year old child, Herrick Ogden at the time the house was completed.  In March 1902 a second child was born, Eleanor House Tappan.

Tappan was a banker and a director in the Vergennes Realty Co.  Jennie involved herself in social activities and was a member of the Washington Heights Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution.  She hosted an afternoon reception for its members on November 16, 1914.  On its page titled "Society and Its Charities" the New York Herald noted "There will be a musical programme and historical papers will be read."

The following year Jennie was elected a vice-president of the Washington Heights Day Nursery.  The organization not only made it possible for women to work, but found them jobs as domestic servants.  The New York Times mentioned on December 15, 1915 "The Day Nursery now has a membership of more than 200, and during the past year has taken care of 10,000 children."

Following the Tappans at No. 420 was the family of William Joseph McGinley.  He and his wife, Mary Ann, had seven  children: Paul J., William V., Aaron M., Helena (better known as Helen), Frances, Florence and Mary.  

Unlike Jennie Tappan, Mary Ann's interest were in business.  She bought and sold real estate.  William was Supreme Secretary of the Knights of Columbus.  

His was a significant post, evidenced when Madison Square Garden hosted 6,500 wounded or convalescent veterans at the circus on April 13, 1919.  The Sun reported "One of the biggest and gayest detachments was chaperoned from General Hospital No. 1 on Gun Hill road by the Knights of Columbus...On the trip to the Garden the long string of cars rolled down Convent avenue, where it was reviewed by Supreme Secretary William J. McGinley and other K. of C. officials from the McGinley home at 420 Convent avenue."

Her father's elevated position provided little Helena a rare opportunity on September 10 that year.   The entire city turned out to see war hero General John J. Pershing lead his troops down Fifth Avenue.  The parade briefly stopped in front of St. Patrick's Cathedral where Archbishop Patrick J. Hayes and Cardinal Mercier, "the hero priest of Belgium," would greet the general.  Before the troops arrived, Helen presented the cardinal with a bouquet of roses.

"He accepted them graciously and, indicating a cluster of American beauties the girl held in her arms, inquired: 'And the other flowers, tell me, now, who are they for?'" reported the New-York Tribune.

"They are for General Pershing, Your Eminence," she replied.

Earlier that year the Knights of Columbus offered to commission a portrait of General Pershing to be presented to the French Government.   A letter arrived on April 21 from artist Gustave Klammerich, a German artist who had fought in the war.  "I desire to paint the portrait of Gen. Pershing," he wrote, "and assure you of a good job as I have admiration for the soldiers of America and their commander."

William McGinley was succinct in his response.  He told reporters "the portrait is going to be made by an American artist."

It was not the last gift to France initiated by the Knights of Columbus and spearheaded by McGinley.  In 1920 50,000 of the 100,000 Knights who had served in World War I contributed to fund a statue of the Marquis de Lafayette to replace the statue of Frederick the Great in Metz.   McGinley said that the K. of C. "had the happy thought that the dethroned statue might be replaced with a statue that would combine French and American tradition."

Interestingly, Hauser made one of the limestone gateposts higher than the other, following the rise of the steps.

The esteem with which McGinley was held was evidenced on April 10, 1921.  At the annual communion breakfast at the Church of Our Lady of Mercy at Fordham University, he was presented with a $3,000 diamond ring and a $2,500 silver service set.  The lavish gifts would be equal in value to more than $77,000 today.

Not long afterward it appears the McGinley family relocated to New Haven, Connecticut.  Their former home was being operated as a rooming house by 1924 when Jane Forestall was living here.  She was fined $10 for driving without a license in July that year; The New York Telegram adding she "is said to be a Belgium actress."

The motion picture industry was fast moving to the West Coast in the 1920's, but the Famous Players-Lasky studio was still in Astoria, Queens when "talkies" began replacing silent movies.  It was a change not welcomed by all employees.

One of them was Ernest DeValera, who rented a room at No. 420 in 1928.  The studio had asked the police for extra protection "as the result of complaints made that the work of installing new equipment for 'taking-movies' has been threatened with interference," reported the Daily Star on August 29.

The policeman who had been on duty the previous night noticed DeValera drive by the building.  Then again.  And again, until he had circled the property five times.  "While he was questioning him, the patrolman said, DeValera became abusive and used boisterous language," reported the Daily Star.  He was charged with disorderly conduct.

A most disturbing incident occurred just outside the house on February 25, 1937.  Albert Victor lived nearby on West 141st Street and made his living as a "rag picker."  That morning he noticed a cardboard box on the sidewalk in front of No. 420, and stopped to open it.  He was horrified to find a dead infant inside.  The New York Post described it as "a stillborn white girl baby wrapped in cheesecloth.  The body had been there only a few hours, physicians say."

Alicia Lawrence had leased the rooming house for many years when it was placed on the market in August 1943.  She purchased the property and initiated a renovation, completed in 1949, that resulted in a doctor's office in the basement, two furnished rooms on the first floor, three on the second and four furnished rooms on the third.  The Certificate of Occupancy noted "Doctor to reside on premises."

That was Dr. Eric Thompson, a dentist who lived and operated his practice practice here at least through 1973.

Surprisingly, much of John Hauser's elements--including the delicate carvings over the basement stairs, survive.  photos via DouglasElliman.com

In 2008 No. 420 was reconverted to a single family home.  Astoundingly, much of the interior detailing had survived.  It was offered in 2012 for $3.5 million.

photographs by the author

The Church of St. Catherine of Genoa - 504 West 153rd Street

On April 28, 1888 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported "A new Roman Catholic Church is to be built at 10th avenue and 153d street.  It is to be called the Church of St. Catherine of Genoa.  Articles of incorporation have just been filed."  Archbishop Michael Corrigan had chosen the Rev. Father Edward F. Slattery to establish the new parish.  The Record & Guide pointed out that he "has been quite active in the organization of new churches."

Within two months an architect was hired.  On June 23 The Record & Guide announced "Thos. H. Poole will shortly commence the plans for the Church of St. Catharine [sic] of Genoa...under the direction of the energetic and popular Father Edward J. Slattery.  The building will be 150 x 85 in size and will probably be of limestone."

Fund-raising to build the church was given an enormous boost at the same time.  The day before the Guide's announcement The New York Times had reported on two enormous gifts received by Father Slattery.  "Father McGovern, an aged and rich priest, has given him $25,000 and John D. Crimmins, the contractor and ex-Park Commissioner, $25,000."  The total windfall would be equal to about $1.36 million today.

Construction did not get underway until late that year.  But Archbishop Corrigan was on hand to lay the cornerstone in the spring of 1889 and the building was completed and dedicated that fall.  

Poole's design apparently came as a surprise to newspapers and others who had foreseen a Gothic style church faced in limestone.  A pleasing marriage of styles, the red-brick facade sat on a water table of rough-cut limestone blocks.  The three entrance doors were sheltered by a highly unusual singled canopy upheld by wooden brackets.  Poole married Venetian Gothic with Flemish Renaissance Revival by juxtaposing a stepped gable with the sinuously arched stained glass windows.

A stone carriage step, necessary for ladies to disembark from their vehicles gracefully, sits on the sidewalk. The Catholic Church in the United States of America, 1914 (copyright expired) 

Slattery had purchased the three-story brick home of Henry V. and Margaret J. Steers at No. 506 West 153rd Street in 1888 to be used as the rectory.  He paid the Steers $13,500--a significant $386,000 in today's dollars.  Now that the church was completed Thomas H. Poole was brought back to replace the house with a property rectory.  Completed in 1890, its design surprisingly could not have been more different from the church.

Poole created a rather serious blend of Romanesque Revival and Renaissance Revival design for the rectory.  Not even the color of brick was harmonious with the church next door.

Newspapers nationwide took note of one of the first weddings in the Church of St. Catherine of Genoa.  On July 29, 1894 The New York Times reported "With a decided lack of display, the marriage of Miss Caroline Jones, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel S. Jones of Chicago, and the Viscount Benoist d'Azy of France, was celebrated yesterday morning, in the Church of St. Catherine of Genoa."

The weddings of American debutantes to titled Europeans were most often brilliant affairs.  But this one was purposely understated.  "The decorations of the church consisted of a few cut flowers and palms.  Only relatives were present," said The Times.  The Evening World went further.  "The invitations scarcely included an intimate friend, and except for the three or four friends who officiated nobody was present by relatives."

It seems that there may have been friction--both domestic and religious--concerning the marriage.  For one thing, Nathaniel S. Jones, did not show up.  "His business interests compel him to spend much of his time in Chicago, and he was unable to attend his daughter's wedding," said the article.  And although Pope Leo XIII had asked Archbishop Corrigan "to bestow the Papal blessing," he passed that duty to Father Slattery.  He was, according to the Church, "in the Catskills."

Nevertheless, the couple's story was a romantic one.  The Evening World called the groom, who was in line to become the Count Benoist d'Azy, "young, rich and handsome."  And The New York Times remarked "The marriage was the outcome of a case of love at first sight.  The Viscount was first presented to Miss Jones in Chicago about two years ago, and was immediately smitten with her charms."

New Yorkers of 1896 were less accustomed to unstable homeless people than those of today--at least within their churches.  And so when one came to the Church of St. Catherine of Genoa on Sunday, July 26 that year, upheaval ensued.

"An insane man created considerable commotion at the celebration of the mass in St. Catherine of Genoa's Roman Catholic Church...yesterday morning," said the New-York Tribune.  As the congregation filed into the church for the 8:00 mass, a "tall, shabbily dressed man," entered as well.  Richard Sadler, who was about 22-years old, entered a rear pew and dropped to his knees, apparently in prayer.  He remained in that position, hands tightly clasped, well after the service.  When the sexton approached him and asked if there was anything wrong, the man became enraged and let out a violent shriek.  "His cry greatly frightened the congregation and several women and children hastily left the church."

Later Father Slattery approached the Sadler "to pacify him," but the man "yelled madly."  Finally, at around noon policemen were called to remove him.  The Tribune reported "when the maniac saw them he became frantic...The lunatic fought desperately to resist arrest, and it required the combined strength of four men to unclasp his hands."  Sadler was taken to Bellevue Hospital for treatment.

Far different from the wedding of a future Count and Countess was the funeral of a saloon king on August 5, 1898.  Philip Milligan, known to his patrons as Phil, had operated his saloon and restaurant on Broadway near 33rd Street for more than a quarter of a century.  His was no low-class Tenderloin District dive, however.  The Times noted "His customers were high-class sportsmen, the gambling fraternity, and the 'sporty' elements of the Legislature and the Judiciary."  Phil Milligan's funeral garnered press attention across the city.

While talking to an assistant priest in the church on September 8, 1901 Father Slattery was suddenly "stricken with paralysis," according to newspaper accounts.  It was most likely a massive stroke.  The 52-year old priest was taken unconscious to his rooms in the rectory where he died within a few hours.  His body lay in state in the church until it was removed to St. Patrick's Cathedral for his funeral, conducted by the Archbishop, on September 11.

Slattery was temporarily replaced in the pulpit by Father Francis J. Heaney.   Only a month later he responded to a horrific accident in the subway excavation tunnel nearby at Broadway and 164th Street.  The New-York Tribune reported on October 19, 1901 "At 9:25 a.m. yesterday a mass of rock 63 feet long, 11 feet wide and 10 feet high, weighing about 150 tons, suddenly caved from the west side and roof of the Rapid Transit tunnel."  Five men were instantly killed and two others were injured.  The article noted "At noon Father Francis J. Heaney, of the Roman Catholic Church of St. Catherine of Genoa...went down into the shaft."

Before the end of the year the Irish-born Reverend Patrick E. McCorry was appointed full-time rector of St. Catherine's.  The congregation continued to grow and he announced plans to enlarge the church in May 1904.  The Sun reported "A three-story extension, 53 feet deep, is to be built, the gallery enlarged and two new sacristies built in the rectory."  Architect John C. Kerby designed the alterations, which cost the congregation the equivalent of $116,000 today.

The size of the congregation was evidenced during World War I simply by the number of members who marched off to battle.  Service flags were a means to honor members of a company or other organization serving in the military.  The flags were emblazoned with one star for each soldier or sailor.   On January 20, 1918 Father McCorry blessed a service flag and an American flag, and then hoisted them into the breeze.  The service flag bore 310 stars.

It was no small ceremony.  The flag raising was preceded by a parade headed by a "children's protectory bank and a color guard from the newly formed Sixty-ninth Regiment," according to The Sun, and a Marine band.  A reception in the parish house followed.

On December 21, 1928 Rev. Patrick E. McCorry celebrated a half-century of priesthood.  Although he "refused any general celebration of the anniversary," according to The New York Times, the parishioners poured into the church for his 9:00 a.m. mass.  "The church was crowded, the more than 900 pupils in the parochial school, which he himself built, being present in a body."

Six years later, on September 1, 1934, Rev. McCorry died at the age of 81 in the rectory.  The Times explained "he had been suffering from a complication of ailments for four months."  His high requiem funeral mass was held in St. Catherine's four days later.

The face of the Hamilton Heights neighborhood and, subsequently, the congregation of St. Catherine of Genoa had greatly changed by the last decade of the 20th century.  

Among the families worshiping here at the time was that of William Batista, born in the Dominican Republic.  On October 21, 1995 The New York Times began its blood-chilling article saying "For some 20 years, William Batista had struggled to shield his family from Harlem's everyday dangers, working the night shift at a midtown Manhattan hotel and setting aside his earnings at home, for safekeeping.  Yesterday morning he returned home from work to find the horror he had never foreseen: his wife and teen-age son were lying face down in the master bedroom, both shot once in the head.  His daughter, whom he discovered in her room, had also been shot in the head."

Police and neighbors theorized that crooks had found out that Batista stashed his money at home, rather than in a bank, and the murders were the result of robbery.  More than $22,000 was missing from the apartment.

Batista had kept a tight rein on his children.  A neighbor said that William, who was 15, and Arelis, 18, were "very religious.  The only place they go out is to go to church."  Their father would routinely call St. Catherine of Genoa School to make sure William was in class.  And he would visit Mother Cabrini High School during recess to see his daughter.

Just as mourners were gathering at the Church of St. Catherine of Genoa for the triple funeral on October 23, shocking developments were being uncovered at police headquarters.  Two suspects, Lamar Sanchez and Jose Rodrigues had been arrested and charged with murder, robbery and weapons possession.  The chilling surprise was that they had been hired by Arelis Batista to kill her family.

The Times reported that the teen, who had been the former girlfriend of Sanchez, "let the killers into the apartment...and then became a victim.  The police said that she was bitterly angry at her domineering father and that she had hired the men to kill him."  Instead, aware of the hidden cash, they simply murdered everyone in the apartment and fled.

The diverse demographics of the neighborhood is reflected in the masses today--celebrated in English, in Spanish, and in French and Haitian Creole.  Thomas H. Poole's striking structure continues to be a vibrant presence in the Harlem neighborhood after 130 years.

photographs by the author

Tattered Beauties - 883-887 St. Nicholas Avenue

photo by Matthew X. Kiernan 

Developer John Kelly purchased the large tract at the southwest corner of St. Nicholas Avenue and 154th Street in 1874.  It would be nearly a decade before development in the Sugar Hill district was far enough along that he considered building on the sprawling plot.  In 1883 architect James Stroud designed eleven row houses for Kelly that wrapped the corner--seven of them on West 154th Street and four more at Nos. 881 to 887 St. Nicholas Avenue.

In its May issue that year Building, An Architectural Monthly remarked that the homes would not edge the sidewalk, as might be expected, but would sit aloofly back and above.  "The architect, Mr James Stroud, has designed them on plateaus, giving the pleasing effect of green terraces, with walks of Seyssel Rock asphalt."  The writer described what today we recognized as the Queen Anne style.  "He has introduced colonial features of architecture, such as bow windows, irregular roofs, verandahs and balconies.  There will be ornamental sashes with glacier decorations and rolling Venetian blinds."  (The "glacier decorations" would most likely have been stained glass transoms and the multi-paned upper sashes that still survive at No. 883.)

The seven houses on West 154th Street all survive.

Kelly intended the 21-foot wide homes to be rental properties.  To lure well-heeled tenants, he included upscale interior detailing--like ash and cherry trim--and modern amenities like hot and cold running water.  A "decided improvement on the usual city house is the introduction of windows opening to the outer air, which are at the head of the stairways on each landing," said Bridge.

The writer opined "Just why families are willing to pay $1,800 or $2,000 per annum for a suite of apartments on the eleventh story of an apartment house when they can rent a pleasant residence on its own ground for less than half the money, it is difficult to tell."  Kelly's tenants would expect to pay as much as $2,250 per month in today's dollars.

The four St. Nicholas Avenue houses were arranged in an A-B-B-A configuration.  Nos. 881 (now demolished) and 887 were mirror images.  Their stone staircases from the sidewalk to the "plateau" were on the opposite side of the lot from the stoop.  The entrances were within a slightly projecting bay that rose to an Addams Family-ready mansard cap with a large oval window.

Nos. 883 and 885, also mirror images, were accessed by long, dramatic sets of steps from the street.  To the side of the entrances were three-sided bay window which provided balconies to the second floor.  The full-height mansards were covered in fish-scale patterned slate shingles and united by a sharp triangular pediment.

No. 885 (right) has sadly lost its parlor floor bay window (and a few other architectural elements).

Title to the properties were in the name of Kelly's wife, Mary.  She leased No. 883 to a socially prominent couple--Thomas M. Foote and his wife, the former Julia Jerome.  The couple had two children, Thomas, Jr. and Frances Jerome Foote.

Born in 1841, Foote was a member of the brokerage firm Thompson & Foote and also, for a while, president of the American District Telegraph Company.  He was a member of the exclusive Union Club and the Coney Island Jockey Club.

Julia was the daughter of Addison G. Jerome and cousin of Jennie Jerome.  On September 4, 1874 the Daily British Colonist began an article saying "A New York dispatch gives the following as the price paid by a New York snob for getting his daughter into the English nobility."  The article had to do with Jennie Jerome's marriage to Lord Randolph Henry Spencer Churchill.  It went on to say that Thomas M. Foote was one of three trustees charged with paying "an annuity of $10,000 in gold."  

Given the Footes' sterling reputations within society, it was shocking that in March 1894 Mary Kelly took Thomas to court in an attempt to get back rent.  

Mary had better luck with her tenant at No. 885.  Financier Albert S. Caldwell had started out as a clerk clerk around 1864 and was later one of the founders of the Fifth Avenue Bank.    The Caldwells' daughter, Elizabeth Stockwell Caldwell, married Eustace Hopkins while living here.  The groom was the son of wealthy merchant John M. Hopkins, who had been associated with Alexander T. Stewart.  (Stewart left Hopkins the equivalent of a quarter of a million in today's dollars in his will.)  The Caldwells remained in No. 885 until Albert suddenly died on the night of June 3, 1894.  

The Caldwells were followed by the George B. Watts family, here by 1897.  It must have been a somewhat crowded environment, judging from the listing in The Social Register.  Living here along with Watts and his wife, the former Helen Wood, were daughters Julia and Ethel; a son listed only as "J. Watts;" and George Watts, Jr., his wife and two children, Sabina and James D. Watts.  The family as well had two Black live-in servants, both from the South.  

Helen Watts was active in charitable and social causes.  In 1899 she was the president of the American Female Guardian Society and Home for the Friendless.  She touted the institution in a letter to The New York Times on January 20 that year, saying "No better evidence of the health of our children can be had than the fact that from May 1, 1895 to May 1, 1898 there were 685 different children in our home; and during that time, there were only five deaths."

Bubble-like terra cotta bosses decorate the eyebrows above the arched doorways and blackened bricks create a patterned coarse above.

Helen had decided opinions and in a speech to the "200 enthusiastic women" who attended a meeting of the Female Guardian Society on October 6, 1899, she attacked "the Mormon M0vement."  She opened her speech with a prayer that American homes might be "protected and saved from the horrible black curse with which they have been menaced."

No. 887 was home first to William R. Foster, Jr., the counsel of the Produce Exchange.  He left around 1887, just before scandal ruined his good name.  He handled the Exchange's "gratuity fund," which provided loans for members' mortgages.  In 1888 it was discovered that Foster had been issuing fake mortgages, forging signatures, and embezzling thousands.  Foster disappeared and in the meantime his bitter father spoke to reporters.  "He said that he could not understand how, with a certain inheritance of $500,000, the son could have disgraced himself and the family name for $193,000," recounted The New York Times on September 30, 1888.

He was followed in No. 887 by Louis Rosenbaum and his family.  A German-born leather merchant, Rosenbaum lived here with his wife, Eva, four sons, and two Irish servants.  The family lived here until 1902.

That year Anna T. Kelly sold all eleven of the houses to Moses Bachman, who resold them to Max Marx.  He immediately began selling them off one-by-one.

He sold Nos. 883 and 885 simultaneously--883 to Mary C. Van Cott and 885 to Louis F. Hallen.  Both were real estate developers and had known each other since Hallen was a boy.  Mary, who never married, had helped to raise Hallen, resulting in a near-family relationship.

Interestingly, the Hallen family moved into Mary C. Van Cott's residence, at No. 883, and Hallen continued leasing No. 885 to the Watts family.  They would remain until 1909.

Louis Hallen's wife was the former Mary W. Jones.  They had two daughters and a son, Louis Frederick, who was just two years old when they moved into No. 883.  The family maintained a country home at Stony Brook, Long Island and it was there, in the summer of 1903, that Hallen suddenly died.  His funeral was held in No. 883 on August 5.

The close relationship between Mary C. Van Cott and the Hallens was again evidenced when she now moved into No. 833.  Her presence was no doubt a help in rearing little Louis, as it had been with his father.

Louis was 17-years old when the United States entered World War I.  He joined the Army and fought through the conflict; but took a criminal path upon returning home.  He was convicted of third degree robbery on June 29, 1925 and sent to the State Reformatory in Elmira, New York.  

Mary C. Van Cott died at the age of 80 five months later, on November 19.  Her substantial estate included several large bequests to charitable organizations like the St. Luke's Home for Aged Women and the Home for Old Men and Aged Couples  But one bequest caught the attention of the press.

On December 4 the Buffalo Evening News reported "When Louis Frederick Hallen, 25 years old...is released from the state reformatory...he will find an incentive to better things awaiting him in the form of a legacy."  The New York Times explained that he would receive $20,000 outright (about $286,000 today), and "one-fifth of the residuary estate."   The Buffalo Evening News said simply that Mary "had taken a friendly interest" in him; and The New York Times added "Miss Van Cott helped to bring up the young man's father."

With Mary's death Nos. 883 and 885 soon ceased to be private dwellings.  They were purchased by the Church Temperance Society.  No. 883 was converted to a doctor's office on the first floor, "treatment rooms" on the second, and the superintendent's quarters on the third.

A doctor's office was also installed in the first floor of No. 885, with living quarters for Dr. James Empringham and the offices of the Society on the upper floors.  

On December 3, 1926 the readers of The New York Times were likely shocked when it reported that Empringham had asked Prohibition groups to drop his name from their list of supporters.

"The organization of which I am secretary is for temperance.  It is not for prohibition and never has been in all the fifty years of its existence," he said.  "The Church Temperance Society is made up of total abstainers who, of course, would like to see the traffic in alcohol ended, but we believe in bringing this about by education and moral suasion."

By the mid-1940's the Ethlyn Beauty Salon operated from the former doctor's office at No. 883, run by Ethlyn Smith Carter.  In May 1948 the New York Age reported on its reopening after a remodeling.  "The Ethlyn Beauty Salon not only is equipped to do a first class hairstyling job," it said "but is also furnished to give milady all the modernistic treatments for putting on or taking off excess poundage."

In March 1950 the Ethlyn Beauty Salon offered a "special 30-day treatment" for weight reduction at $27.  The announcement promised that the treatment would reduce "hips, thighs, etc., which helps reduce inches and banish bulges."  

In 1977 Nos. 883 and 885 were converted to the McDonald's Nursery, a day care center for children 2-1/2 years old and up.  Then, around 2010, the combined homes became a bed and breakfast.

A general renovation inside and out is taking place at No. 887 in 2019.

In 2018 a renovation was begun on No. 887 to convert it to a two-family dwelling.  Substantial restoration is being conducted on the facade.  And while all three of the houses show lamentable abuse, each could be rehabilitated to their former charm.

photographs by the author
many thanks to reader Holly Tooker for suggesting this post