The Charles Downer Hazen House - 42 East 75th Street

 

The original window treatment can be seen in the upper floors of the house to the right.

In 1881 the architectural firm of Thom & Wilson designed a row of four 19-foot wide, high-stooped brownstone houses at 38 through 44 East 75th Street for developer Terence Farley.  Completed the following year, the four-story dwellings were designed in the neo-Grec style, with prominent cornices above the openings and bracketed, cast metal terminal cornices.

The Seligman family moved into 42 East 75th Street.  Philip Seligman was a partner in Seligman Brothers & Co., makers of men's suits; and Joseph C. Seligman made his living as a clerk.  Their residency would be relatively short lived, and in 1886 Nathaniel Harsh moved in.

On the morning of September 11 that year Harsh was walking along East 76th Street with "a valuable little terrier in his arms," as reported by The New York Times.  He caught the attention of three corrupt dog catchers--John Kennedy, Joseph Walker, and John Hughes.  They were, it seems, paid according to the number of strays they rounded up.  And so, they set their sights on Harsh's dog.

When the dog catchers attempted to snatch the dog away, "He clung to the animal and was roughly handled," said the newspaper.  "The tussle attracted a large crowd."  Harsh steadfastly held on to his pet until a police officer arrived and arrested the dog catchers.  Harsh told a reporter he had had "a similar adventure with dog catchers" a year earlier.

The Harsh family's tenancy was even shorter than the Seligmans'.  By 1888 it was home to wealthy bachelor Jackson Goldman.  A grain dealer, he was a member of the New York Produce Exchange.  

Among Goldman's domestic staff in 1891 was Hannah Hynes.  She was a waitress, the 19th century term for a higher-level maid who served in the dining room and parlor.  She came to the rescue of another servant girl in August that year.

Kate Williamson, who worked in the Presbyterian Hospital, was walking along Madison Avenue near 75th Street when she was accosted by Thomas Lawson.  The Press said, "She repulsed him, when he attempted to grasp her by the throat, and she ran away."  But Lawson followed and, in a panic, she ran into the basement of 42 East 75th Street.

Recognizing Kate's peril, Hannah, whom The Press said, "is stalwart and bold," quickly armed herself with an umbrella and rushed to Kate's defense.  "Hannah laid the umbrella over Lawson's head and jabbed him with the point of it until he ran off, the two women following him and uttering the cries for help that attracted the policeman," said the article.  Lawson turned out to be a serial assaulter.  As Kate and Hannah told their story in the station house, fully a dozen other women appeared to file complaints.

On the evening of April 19, 1893, Jackson Goldman was married to Marion Mayer in the drawing room of her father's home on East 56th Street.  Soon afterward Goldman sold the East 75th Street house to Joseph C. Hatie and his wife, the former Amanda Hobson Heyl.  Hatie was president of the Mutual Fire Insurance Co.

Long-term owners finally came in 1896 when Leopold and Leonora B. Rossbach purchased 42 East 75th Street.  Rossbach was the principal in J. H. Rossbach & Brothers, dealers in "hides, leather and goatskins."  The couple had four children, H. Harry, Walter S., Lawrence B. and Helen R. Rossbach.

In 1900 the Rossbachs hired architect E. Lowenbein to make renovations to the house.  They were apparently minor, interior updates, costing about $16,000 in today's money.  The architect was called back three years later to do additional updates, also minor.

Wealthy Jewish families, not welcomed in resorts like Bar Harbor or Newport, created their own summer destination in the area around Long Branch and Elberon, New Jersey.  On April 1, 1909 the New-York Tribune reported, "Leopold Rossbach has bought the summer home of Colonel R. C. Clowry, president of the Western Union Telegraph Company, situated at Elberon, N. J., at the corner of Lincoln and Elberon avenues."

In 1916 the Rossbachs moved to 9 East 88th Street.  They leased the 75th Street house to Charles Downer Hazen and his wife, Sarah Duryea.  Born in Barnet, Vermont on March 17, 1868, Hazen came from an old New England family.  His first ancestors arrived in Massachusetts in the 17th century.  After graduating from Dartmouth College, he studied at Johns Hopkins University, and in Europe.  He was teaching history at Smith College in June 1901 when he married Susan, a 1896 graduate of the school.

The Hazens had moved to New York City in 1915, a year before leasing the Rossbach house.  He had been offered a position at Columbia University.  While living here he would write prodigiously.  Among the 15 academic works published after 1917 were Fifty Years of Europe, 1870-1919; French Revolution and Napoleon; Modern European History; Contemporary American Opinion of The French Revolution; and The Letters of William Roscoe Thayer.

Leopold Rossbach died at the age of 65 on March 5, 1918.  He left an estate valued at around $49 million in today's money.  The following year, in February, Leonora Rossbach sold 42 East 75th Street to the Hazens.

Somewhat surprisingly, Charles and Sarah soon leased the house to Edward Robbins Wharton.  Living with him was his unmarried sister, Nancy.  Wharton was the divorced husband of socialite and author Edith Wharton.  Edward and Nancy summered at Pine Acre, the estate purchased by their mother, Nancy C. Wharton, in 1892.

Interestingly, society journalists followed the movements of the Whartons separately.  On September 23, 1920, for instance, The Evening Telegram noted, "Miss Nancy C. Wharton, who spent the summer in Lenox, Mass., will be at No. 42 East Seventy-fifth street for the winter."  

Edward Robbins Wharton (original source unknown)

It was, perhaps, at the instigation of the Whartons that in 1923 the Hazens hired architect James E. Casale to modernize the 75th Street house.  The neo-Grec elements of the upper floors were shaved off, the stoop removed, and the entrance lowered to the former basement level.  Casale transformed the two lower floors with romantic neo-Gothic details and leaded glass French windows at the second floor.

On February 8, 1928 Edward Robbins Wharton died at 42 East 75th Street at the age of 78.  On February 11 The New York Times reported, "The will of Edward Robbins Wharton of 42 East Seventy-fifth Street, New York City, divorced husband of Edith Wharton, the novelist, was filed here this afternoon."  Among his bequests were two months' pay for his domestic staff, and "expenses from New York to Lenox for the burial."

Charles and Sarah Hazen moved back to 42 East 75th Street.  Charles died on September 18, 1941 at the age of 73.  Sarah sold the house now long afterward and in 1945 it was converted to apartments.  There were now a duplex in the basement and first floors, one apartment and a furnished room each on the second and third, and one apartment on the fourth floor.

The configuration lasted until 1988 when a doctor's office was installed in the ground floor, and the upper section was converted to two duplex residences.

photographs by the author

LaptrinhX.com has no authorization to reuse the content of this blog

The J. Theus Mund House -- No. 121 East 64th Street

photo by Alice Lum

In the decade following the Civil War architect and builder John McCool threw himself headlong into the rapid development of the Upper East Side near the newly completed Central Park.  The developer purchased long rows of building plots in the 60s and 70s and erected brownstone rowhouses intended for the financially-comfortable merchant class.

Among his speculative developments was a row of 10 townhouses stretching from No. 115 to 133 East 64^th Street, between Park and Lexington Avenues.  Construction began in 1876 and was completed a year later, resulting in handsome (if not exceptional) brownstone-clad neo-Grec homes.  Unfortunately for McCool, his overly-ambitious projects collided with the long-lasting Financial Panic of 1873.  By the time the East 64^th Street row was completed, he was in dire financial trouble.

On April 4, 1878 the New-York Tribune noted that twelve of John McCool’s creditors were seeking to “throw him into bankruptcy.”   By summer it was all over for the real estate developer.  His total liabilities totaled a staggering $2,757,391—more than $56 million today.  On June 22, 1878 the Tribune reported on his bankruptcy.

Among the brownstone houses along the row was No. 121 East 64^th Street, which became home to attorney Herman Joseph and his family around 1889.  Joseph had taken a position with Samuel Hirsch, a well-known attorney at No. 315 Broadway where he received his hands-on legal training; finally graduating from New York University Law School in 1877.

By the time the turn of the century approached, he had established himself as a specialist in commercial law and an authority on bankruptcy.  Politically-active, he was known as a “Tammany Hall Democrat” and was a member of the Progress Club, the Bnai Brith Club, and Algonquin Club.  His charitable nature resulted in his sitting on the boards of the Mount Sinai Hospital, the Hebrew Orphan Asylum, Montefiore Home for Incurables, the Home for the Aged and Infirm and the Passover Relief Association.

In 1898, at the age of 42, Herman Joseph was appointed by the new mayor, Robert Anderson Van Wyck, to the post of Justice of the Municipal Court.  The Tammany Times said on July 17, “Among the new appointments of Mayor Van Wyck none is more popular than the well-known and deserving Democrat, Judge Herman Joseph.”  Perhaps surprisingly, considering Joseph’s age, the political newspaper explained “It is said that the reason why Mr. Joseph gave up a lucrative practice for the position of Justice of the Municipal Court is that he is by reason of delicate health, unable to cope with the requirements physically of his profession.”

Judge Herman Joseph -- The Tammany Times, July 17, 1898 (copyright expired)

As it turned out, Judge Joseph’s “delicate health” did not deter him from hearing and ruling impartially and, at times, rigorously.  If physical requirements prevented him from continuing his legal practice, they did not prevent him from carrying out investigative jurisprudence. 

In May 1904 the judge was presented with the case of damages to a White Clover Dairy Company truck.  George A. Young had driven his milk wagon along 124^th Street on October 19, 1903 when a low-hanging branch ripped the canvas top off the truck.  The dairy sued the city for the $155.80 cost to repair the wagon.

Counsel for the city argued that the branch did not hang low enough to damage a vehicle.  So Judge Joseph packed up his entire courtroom staff including the stenographer, affidavit clerk, chief clerk and court officer and declared that court would be held on May 14 on the brownstone steps of the house at No. 308 East 124^th Street.

Because the court case was being held in the open air, the judge permitted reporters to wear their hats.  George Young appeared with the repaired truck, and a make-shift courtroom was established on the stoop.  Just as the case was about to commence, Judge Joseph was infuriated by the arrival of a street sweeper.

“Taking his place on the second step of the brown stairs, Justice Joseph declared court open.  A street sweeper in duck uniform came down the street making a furious dust with his broom,” reported The Evening World later that day.

“’Evict that man from the court,’ demanded the Justice of Court Officer Moran.  The white-wing was summarily chased a half block.”

After the rival attorneys presented their cases, Joseph ordered the driver to recreate the incident.  “The limb struck the top and was carrying it away when Moran and a dozen other coppers grabbed the horse and threw it back on its haunches,” said The Evening World.  “’Do you think the city wants to pay for another top?’ demanded Moran.”

The city’s lawyer brushed off the demonstration, saying that the repaired wagon was taller than it was before the accident.  With judicial wisdom the judge ordered “Get a tape measure and we will find out.”

Since no one had a tape measure, a policeman was sent to a store.  “Court took a recess in the interim and everyone smoked.  Every window up and down the street was filled with heads watching the unusual court proceedings,” said the newspaper.

No doubt to the city attorney’s dismay, the wagon measured 7 feet, 9 inches high; while the damaged wagon was 8 feet, 4 inches.  “The city has lost its case,” declared Herman Joseph.

The house on East 64^th Street was the scene of joyful entertainment on April 11, 1909 when the Judge and his wife gave a reception to announce the engagement of their daughter, Rose, to Richard Bauer.  Perhaps it was Rose’s leaving the house the prompted the couple to sell No. 121 two months later.

Dr. Paul W. Kimball purchased the old brownstone, putting the deed in his wife’s name.  By now wealthy homeowners were either razing the outdated rowhouses or radically renovating them into modern residences.  Immediately upon purchasing No. 121 Dr. Kimball and his wife planned their own renovations.

On June 15, 1909 The Sun reported “Plans have been filed for enlarging the three story and basement residence at No. 121 East Sixty-fourth street and making it over into an American basement dwelling.”  The newspaper noted that the chosen architect for the project was Donn Barber.

Barber’s alterations resulted in the stoop being removed and the entrance lowered to street level.  The original doorway on the parlor floor was remodeled as a window.  While the renovations did not totally mask the Victorian brownstone, they provided the Kimballs with a more modern American basement design.

Dr. and Mrs. Kimball would stay in the house for nine years.  In the meantime, on October 25, 1917, a socially-significant wedding took place in St. Thomas Church on Fifth Avenue—that of J. Theus Munds and Elsie Welsh Saltus.  The ongoing war in Europe was reflected in the wedding party.  The New York Times reported that “One of the ushers in the army khaki and another in the blue uniform of the navy broke the usual monotony of the ushers’ dress.”

The Sun advised readers that “Mr. Munds is a son of the late Mr. and Mrs. James Dickson Munds of Wilmington, N.C., and a grandson of Mrs. Louis Nicholas de l’Aigle of the Georgia family of that name.”  The bride, it reported, “was one of the debutantes of last winter…She is fond of outdoor life and is prominent in the younger contingent in the Cedarhurst colony, where she is a member of the junior polo team.”

The newlyweds moved in to No. 470 Park Avenue where their frequent entertainments were noticed by society page columnists.  But within a year they would be in the market for a permanent home.

In September 1918 Dr. Kimball sold No. 121 East 64^th Street to Frederick J. Sterner.   The architect had already made a reputation of purchasing old Victorian brownstones and transforming them into Mediterranean, neo-Gothic and Tudor fantasies.  If he anticipated a similar project for the Kimball residence, he soon changed his mind.

One month later, on October 24, he resold the houses to the Munds.  The deal prompted The Sun to say he “made a handsome profit on the transaction.”  Indeed, he had done well.  In the four weeks he owned the house he made $8,000 on the sale—a tidy $85,000 or so in today’s dollars.

Two entrances provided separate access to servants (left) and family and guests--photo by Alice Lum

Like the Kimballs, the Munds had renovations in mind—but theirs would be far more sweeping.  The couple commissioned James E. Casale to completely revamp the old home.  The architect transformed the neo-Grec façade to a neo-Tudor fantasy.  A full story under a pointed gable was added and the building slathered in rough stucco.  A romantic two-story oriel at the second and third floors was roofed in slate shingles, and six tall, arched windows clustered together behind a stone balustrade at the second floor.  The outmoded Victorian now emerged as an up-to-date Edwardian residence—inside and out-- fit for the socially-active couple.

Elsie Saltus Munds is dressed for the Patriot's Ball the year the couple moved into their new home -- photograph Arts & Decoration, March 1920 (copyright expired)

The renovations were complete early in 1920 and by April it was ready to receive guests.  On April 5 The Sun noted that “Mr. and Mrs. J. Theus Munds will give a reception in their new home, 121 East Sixty-fourth street, on next Saturday afternoon.”

The Munds dining room opened onto a glass-covered courtyard -- photo Architectural Forum, September 1921 (copyright expired)

The Saturday afternoon reception would be just the first of many entertainments in the renovated house.  The same year that the couple moved into the house they celebrated the birth of their son, James Theus Jr. 

photo by Alice Lum

One of Elsie Saltus Munds’ most prominent social roles came in 1922 when she was named chairman of the Victory Ball.  The socially-important event was organized to raise funds for “those who are still suffering from the effects of the war and for whom no armistice has been signed,” as explained in the New-York Tribune.

Only a few years after their extensive renovation of No. 121 the Munds moved to No. 15 East 61^st Street.   The house on East 61^st Street would become home to Walter Naumburg and his wife Elsie.  The Naumburg name was well-known in New York for the family’s appreciation and support of music.  In 1905 Naumburg’s father, banker Elkan Naumburg, funded free concerts in the Central Park’s cast iron pagoda-style  bandstand.

By 1912 the old bandstand had become inadequate and Elkan Naumburg donated a new structure.  After his death, sons Walter and George took up the cause and continued the free concerts.

Like his father, Walter Naumburg was a banker.  After his retirement in 1931, he devoted his life to music and philanthropy.  The house on East 64st Street would regularly be the site of impromptu musicales as the Naumburgs’ guests brought their instruments with them.

“Friends, including some professionals, used to gather at my home on Wednesday nights and play the great quartets and quintets—the Beethoven Quartet 135 in C sharp, the late Brahms chamber pieces, things like that,” he later told a reporter.

As Elsie Naumburg grew ill in early 1953, Walter put down his cello, never to play again.  The 73-year old Elsie Binger Naumburg died in New York Hospital in January 1954.  The remarkable woman was a research fellow on the staff of the department of birds at the American Museum of Natural History.  Although she was a well-known ornithologist, she shared Walter’s interest in music, holding the posts of secretary and treasurer of the Naumburg Musical Foundation and the chairman of the board of An Hour of Music, Inc.

Elsie Naumburg had written a report, “The Birds of Matto Gross, Brazil,” on the ornithological finds of Theodore Roosevelt’s Brazilian expedition.

Following Elsie’s death, Walter Naumburg wistfully remembered the musical evenings in the house and told a New York Times reporter, “I still have the cello my father gave me with I was 17.  It had once belonged to the last King of Hanover.”  He continued to live in the house at No. 121 East 64^th Street until his death on October 17, 1959 at the age of 91.  

photo by Alice Lum

Comedian Robert Brackett Elliott purchased the house.  He had become famous through his radio prograph Matinee with Bob and Ray, with his long-time partner Ray Goulding.  The show became the televised The Bob and Ray Show from 1951 to 1953.   Elliott would go on to appear in television shows like Happy Days, the Newhart Show, and Laraine & Gilda.

In 2013 the wonderful neo-Tudor home was listed for just under $13 million.  In its listing the realtor suggested that “if it feels too collegiate-Gothic, just rip out the heavy wood paneling.”