The Henry Talmadge House - 538 Madison Avenue

 

In 1870, builder John Sares completed a row of four upscale, high-stooped houses on the northwestern corner of Madison Avenue and 54th Street.  Most likely designed by architect Mortimer C. Merritt, each of the Italianate style homes rose four stories above high English basements.  Their arched entrances and parlor floor windows were embellished with classical pediments.  An interesting design element was the large chain motif that connected the brackets of the individual cornices. 

The "chain" running between the foliate brackets of the cornice was an innovative design choice.

Sares sold the northernmost house, 538 Madison Avenue, to Henry Talmadge and his wife, the former Helen White.  Moving in with the couple was their 23-year-old son, Henry Pearl Talmadge.

Talmadge descended from Thomas Talmadge, who arrived in America from England in 1631.  Henry was the founder of the banking firm of Henry Talmadge & Co.  He was, as well, a trustee of the Central Trust Company, a member of the Chamber of Commerce, vice president and director of the Cossitt Land Company, and a director of the Mechanics' National Bank. 

 

Sares's 1870 row was intact in the early 20th century.  The Talmadge house is at the far right of the row.  photo via Culver Pictures

Henry Pearl Talmadge had graduated from Harvard in 1868.  Two years after the family moved into the Madison Avenue house, he married Lucy White.  The newlyweds moved into the Madison Avenue house, and the same year Henry's father made him a partner in the banking firm.  

The household of four would rapidly expand.  Lucy would bear five children here--Lucy White in 1873, Henry Pearl Jr. in 1877, Arthur White in 1880, Helen Dunbar in 1881, and Frank Cossitt in 1884.

All the families in the neighborhood had at least one country home.  In 1884, Henry Pearl Talmadge commissioned architect Douglas Smythe to design a sprawling Queen Anne style mansion in Plainfield, New Jersey.  The $45,000 cost of construction would equal about $1.43 million in 2023.

The Henry Pearl Talmadge summer home, "Netherwood."  (original source unknown)

Frances Anna Cossitt Talmadge died on November 30, 1883 at the age of 64.  Despite his advancing age, Henry continued to go to his office at 50 Pine Street everyday.  He was still doing so until the morning of May 19, 1907, when he died at the age of 90 in the Madison Avenue house.

Rather than go to the New Jersey estate that summer, Henry Pearl Talmadge and his family instead went to the mountains.  Two months after Henry's death, the New-York Tribune reported, "Mr. and Mrs. Henry P. Talmadge have left town for the Adirondacks, where they have rented the McAlpin camp for the summer."

Arthur White Talmadge went into the family's banking business.  He was still unmarried in 1909 when the 29-year-old traveled West to Arizona.  Shockingly, on January 12, 1910, The New York Times reported, "News has been received in New York of the death of Arthur White Talmadge at Prescott, Arizona."  Whatever the details of his death were, they were not published in any of the local newspapers.

Arthur's body was returned to Netherwood, where his funeral was held on January 21.  The New York Times noted that "carriage will be in waiting" at the Plainfield train station for mourners arriving from New York City.

By the time Frank C. Talmadge married Beatrice Cornish in the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine in January 1918, the Madison Avenue neighborhood had greatly changed.  Once trafficked only by the smart carriages of the homeowners, it now bustled with shoppers and motorcars.  A year later, on July 24, 1919, The New York Times reported that Henry had sold 538 Madison Avenue for $124,000 (just over $2 million today).  The New-York Tribune added that the buyer was "a prominent art dealer who will use the building for his business when alterations are completed," noting "it has been used by the family as a residence for almost forty-eight years."

The "prominent art dealer" was Max Williams who converted the former basement and parlor level for his maritime art gallery.  Although the upper floors were maintained as a single-family residence, Williams continued to live in Brooklyn.  

Asia magazine, September 1921 (copyright expired)

In July 1924, Scribner's Magazine announced, "A special exhibition of ship models collected by a British sea captain will be held during July at the Max Williams Gallery, 538 Madison Avenue."  But the gallery's residency would not be especially long-lasting.

Just three years later, Dante Gambinossi had moved a branch of his Italian store into the building.  Headquartered in Florence, Dau's New York Social Register noted in 1927 that the shop sold "hand tooled leather [and] hand made linens from Italy."

Living upstairs in 1930 were society interior decorator Rose Cumming, who was 42 at the time, and her sister Dorothy Grenville Cumming, who was 30.  The women had come a long way from the Australian sheep ranch where they were born.  Dorothy had begun her acting career in silent films in 1915.  Two of her more notable roles were the Virgin Mary in Cecil B. DeMille's 1927 The King of Kings, and the jealous wife in The Wind, produced the following year.

Dorothy Cumming in the 1927 role of the Virgin Mary in The King of Kings.   from the collection of the Pepperdine Library

The Cummings sisters would have to find new accommodations that year.  In 1930, architect Robert A. Fash was commissioned to remodel the building.  The stoop was removed and a two-story storefront installed.  The top floors were converted to showrooms and storage.

Fash's sleek new storefront can be seen here in 1941.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Dante Gambinossi moved out in 1943.  The retail space now became two, one on either floor.  They were home to Brenner Bros., furriers; and Renal of Paris, Inc., women's apparel.

Starting around 1964, the Durlacher Brothers antiques gallery operated from 538 Madison Avenue.  Founded in London in 1843 by Henry Durlacher, it was renamed by his two sons who took over the business following his death.  Its customers over the years included The Frick, the Berlin Museum, the British Museum, and private collectors like J. Pierpont Morgan, Sir Richard Wallace, and the Duke of Hamilton.

The upper floors were, by now, being leased as offices.  Among the most high-profile of the tenants was pediatrician and author Dr. Benjamin Spock, whose office was on the third floor.  Spock's 1946 Baby and Child Care became one of the best-selling books of the 20th century.  He was also well-known for his ultra liberal political views.  And when President Gerald Ford pardoned former President Richard Nixon on September 8, 1974, Spock was irate.  He fired off a hand-written letter to the White House on his office stationery that read:

Dear President Ford,

 I feel outraged at your premature and unjustified pardon of Richard Nixon.  It is the ultimate cover-up.  It condones Nixon's monstrous crimes.  It shows that there is one law for top leaders, another law for the rest.  It will prolong the division in the country.

In total sincerity,  Benjamin Spock

The store space saw a variety of tenants over the succeeding years, including Adolfo in the late 1970s and early 1980s.  In February 1997, Caviar Russe, described by The New York Times food critic Florence Fabricant as "a new caviar bar, restaurant and boutique," opened on the second floor, above a Vermont Teddy Bear Co. store.

On December 7 that year, a section of the 33-floor office tower next door collapsed, "raining debris on holiday shoppers and tourists, snapping a hanging work platform in two and dangling a ton of bricks from a torn safety net," as reported by The New York Times.  A week later the newspaper reported that "engineers who inspected 538 Madison Avenue yesterday found more extensive damage to the roof than expected."  It was too much for the Vermont Teddy Bear Co., which broke its lease and moved out.  Caviar Russe took the opportunity to expand into both floors, and continues to occupy the space today.

Other than its masonry being painted blue and white, the upper floors of the Henry Talmadge house are surprisingly intact after more than a century and a half.

photographs by the author

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The 1870 Henry Stokes House - 534 Madison Avenue

 

Builder John Sares erected a row of four high-stooped houses in 1870, on the northwestern corner of Madison Avenue and 54th Street.  Typical of the brownstones going up in the neighborhood, they were handsome yet understated when compared to the palaces that would appear within the decade--like the Vanderbilt houses a block away on Fifth Avenue.

Construction of each of the residences cost Sares $10,000, about $205,000 in today's money.  It is generally agreed that architect Mortimer C. Merritt designed the Italianate style structures.  Four stories tall, their arched entrances and parlor floor windows were enhanced by classical pediments.  Molded lintels topped the architrave surrounds of the upper openings, and individual bracketed cornices crowned the design.

534 Madison Avenue sits next to the corner house.  photo via Culver Pictures

The family of Henry Stokes moved into 534 Madison Avenue.  Stokes was president of the Manhattan Life Insurance Company and vice-president of the Manhattan Savings Institution.  He and his wife Mary had a son, John S. Stokes, who was in the real estate business.

Even the wealthiest of families had to deal with vermin, and in 1878 Mary attacked the problem head-on with disastrous results.  On May 21 The New-York Times reported, "for some time past Mrs. Mary Stokes, the wife of Mr. Henry Stokes...has been troubled by cockroaches and Croton bugs [i.e. the Oriental cockroach, or "water bug"], which swarmed behind the wainscoting in a pantry in the rear of the first floor of the house."  A friend had told Mary that kerosene oil would destroy the insects.  She purchased a can of the fluid, and poured it into the crevices where the roaches had been seen coming and going.  Most likely the friend meant that the kerosene oil would poison the insects--if so, Mary misunderstood.

She lit the kerosene.  "A blaze followed, and the flames ran along the wood-work until it reached the can of oil.  An explosion followed, and the burning fluid was scattered over the person of Mrs. Stokes, burning her on the arms, wrists, neck, and face."  Mary's screams alerted a maid, Mary Keith, who rushed to her aid.  In attempting to extinguish her employer's burning clothing, she herself was burned on the arms and hands.

Firemen arrived to put out the blaze.  The New York Times reported that the damages "to the furniture and building will not exceed $100" and that the women's injuries, "though painful, are not of a serious nature."

Henry Stokes died in the house at the age of 81 on February 11, 1887.  His funeral was held in the drawing room three days later.

In 1891 Mary transferred title to her son.  The following year, in November, Frank R. Lawrence and his wife, the former Eva Annette Reed, purchased the house.

The Lawrences had married in 1876 and had four children, Eva Reed, Frank Jr., Herbert Reed, and Connor.  Their country home was at Milton Point, in Rye, New York.  A partner with his brother Malcolm R. Lawrence in a corporation law firm, Frank was also a director in the Chatham National Bank and City Trust Co.  Having been admitted to the bar in 1869, The Sun later said, "His rise was rapid, so rapid that within a few years he was the legal representative of banks, railroads, and other great corporations, and was conducting the legal affairs of his prominent clients with marked success."

His wide interests were reflected in his club memberships--he was president of the Lotos Club, and a member in the Manhattan, American Yacht, Lawyers', Arkwright, and Salmagundi Clubs, and the Dunlap Society.

Nine years after moving into the Madison Avenue house, Eva Reed Lawrence died at Milton Point on August 11, 1901.  Her husband's social prominence was reflected in his sitting on the "Committee for the Reception of Prince Henry in New York," appointed by Mayor Seth Low on January 22, 1902.  The younger brother of Emperor William II of Germany and a grandson of Queen Victoria, Prince Henry of Prussia's visit to the United States launched major receptions in Washington, Boston, New York, Philadelphia and West Point.

Eva Lawrence's death put Frank in the uncomfortable position of hosting his daughter's debut into society--unquestionably the bailiwick of society mothers.  He seems to have pulled it off successfully.  On December 1904, The New York Press reported, "Miss Eva Lawrence was introduced by her father, Frank R. Lawrence, yesterday at a reception in No. 534 Madison avenue."  He did not have to manage alone, however.  The article noted that Eva was assisted by nine young unmarried women. 

Five months later, on May 27, Eva married David H. Taylor in St. Bartholomew's Church.   The New York Times wrote, "The ceremony will be an imposing one," adding, "A reception will follow the ceremony at the residence of the bride's father, 534 Madison Avenue."

 

By the time of Eva's wedding, the neighborhood was becoming increasingly commercial.  When the Lawrence family moved into their home, the traffic on Madison Avenue was limited to  the elegant carriages of the homeowners.  Now it teemed with vehicles.  To help alleviate the problem, in 1910 the city ordered the elimination of all "encumbrances" in order to widen the thoroughfare, including the removal of stoops.  The upheaval prompted many well-to-do families to move further north, but the Lawrence family remained in its now stoop-less home.

In 1918 Lawrence was afflicted with what The Sun called a "heart lesion."  Nevertheless, he went about his duties, particularly with the Lotos Club, where he had been president for three decades.  On October 22, he presided over a dinner during which he read aloud "President Wilson's last note to Germany and leading in the cheers which greeted the words 'complete surrender,'" as reported in The Sun.

Four days later, on the morning of October 26, he arose feeling particularly well.  "In fact," said The Sun, "he remarked to his secretary just before leaving his home at 534 Madison avenue to go to the St. Regis barber shop that he felt better than he had in a long time."  But, while seated in the barber chair, he suffered a fatal heart attack at the age of 73.  In reporting his death, The Sun called him "eminent among corporation lawyers of the country."

The Lawrence heirs briefly leased the basement level to the Spanish Antique Shop, run by the Montllor Brothers.  Then, on November 30, 1919, the firm announced "our building has been sold and we must vacate by January, 1920."

Arts & Decoration, December 1919 (copyright expired)

The Sun explained, "The four story residence at 534 Madison avenue, for twenty-nine years the home of the late Frank H.  [sic] Lawrence, president of the Lotos Club, has been purchased by Anthony Kimbel, interior decorator."  A. Kimbel & Son was one of several high-end interior decorating firms, like Schmitt Brothers, moving into the neighborhood.  It catered to wealthy clients and sold 18th century British and European furniture, antique tapestries and such.

The Columbia Alumni News, July 1922 (copyright expired)

A. Kimbel & Son would not remain in the building especially long.  The firm left in 1925, to be replaced by A. Wertheim, Inc., art dealers.  Before moving in, however, A. Wertheim, Inc. renovated the lower two floors of the facade by installing a double-height show window and a Spanish Renaissance style window with faux balcony above the entrance.

The gallery's opening advertisement featured a photo of the newly-renovated building.  International Studio, July 1925.

In its July 1925 issue, the International Studio wrote, "A. Wertheim has recently opened a branch studio at 534 Madison Avenue, which is a distinct acquisition to the art interests of New York.  In it one finds a carefully selected assortment of rare and fascinating objects of art, both ancient and modern."

But, like A. Kimbel & Son, A. Wertheim would remain only five years.  In 1930 Freeman of London, dealers in "antique English silver and old Sheffield plate," leased the store.  On September 26 The New York Sun reported, "This firm has specialized in the collection and sale of English silverware for the past fifty-five years."  Freeman of London's presence was even shorter.  The shop moved out following the end of a single-year lease.

A long-term occupant would finally arrive in 1940 with the opening of The Persian Shop, run by the Terzis family, who purchased the building and moved into the upper floors.  The new owners updated the facade with a black glass, arcade storefront.

The Persian Shop originally sold exotic, imported jewelry from the Middle East.  On August 22, 2008 The New York Times columnist Christopher Gray commented, "In the 1960s, the shop window was filled with intriguing artifacts like jewelry with secret compartments, intricate metal work and mysteriously named 'poison rings.'"  Now, he said, Andrew Terzis sold mostly modern jewelry.  "I have to focus on what sells," he told Gray.

More than eight decades after moving in, The Persian Shop is still in the building.  And above the 20th century storefront, Henry Stokes's 1870 house is remarkably unchanged.

photographs by the author

no permission to reuse the content of this blog has been granted to LaptrinhX.com

An "Elegant Flathouse" - 42 Morton Street

In 1887 developer and architect H. M. Tostevin produced two five-story flathouses at Nos. 38 and 40 Morton Street, between Bedford and Hudson Streets.   The brick and brownstone buildings, with their showy decorative elements drawn from a grab bag of historic styles, apparently caught the eyes of Mary E. McLaughlin and her husband, George C. McLaughlin.

The McLaughlins were active in real estate circles--Mary as a developer and agent and George as a contractor.  Two years after Tostevin's buildings were completed, on March 23, 1889, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that "G. Louglin" [sic] had hired architect Mortimer C. Merritt to design a three-story $30,000 apartment building next door to them at No. 42 Morton Street.  

The plans changed within a month.  On April 9 The Evening Post reported on Merritt's plans, which now listed Mary E. McLaughlin as owner of record.  The height was now five floors and as a result the cost rose to $35,000 (just around $1 million today).  Completed before the year's end, No. 42 was a near match to Tostevin's earlier buildings.  It could be considered a very early example of homogeneous and sympathetic architecture, or simply brazen copying.

Whichever the case, Merritt produced a visually stimulating design.  The brownstone base was a marriage no fewer than three styles.  Renaissance Revival appeared in the carved panels below the arched openings and in the chunky caryatids with Corinthian capitals.  The undressed brownstone quoins and voussoirs drew from Romanesque Revival and the delicate incised carvings were neo-Grec.

The four upper floors were faced in red brick and trimmed in stone and terra cotta.   The heft of the beefy neo-Grec lintels was softened by bands of cream colored terra cotta.  At the fifth floor the slightly recessed, two-bay central section terminated in a brownstone arch below the exuberant pressed metal cornice.

Each floor held three apartments of four rooms.  Although the building was four years old in February 1893, an advertisement in The Sun described No. 42 as the "Handsomest new, elegantly decorated house in Ninth Ward; portico stoop, private baths and closets; no children."  That the management refused to rent to families with children is somewhat surprising.  And the rent was not inexpensive--the cheapest being about $586 per month in today's money.

Terra cotta, stone and brick combine in the eclectic design.

Interestingly, three years later rental ads still described the building as the "handsomest new elegantly decorated flathouse in the 9th Ward."  Now, however, other amenities were pointed out: hot and cold water and a range.  The rents had not gone up but the restriction on children was still in place.

The initial residents were middle class, like Christopher J. Lane, who lived here by 1894.  He had graduated from the College of St. Francis Xavier a few years earlier and listed his occupation as "lawyer."  He was embellishing just a bit.  In fact, he was a clerk in the law firm of Augustus C. Brown.

Wealthy New Yorkers left the city every summer for cooler resorts like Newport, Bar Harbor and Long Island.  Middle class citizens, like those who lived at No. 42 Morton Street, were not so fortunate and were forced to endure the insufferable and sometimes deadly heat.  A heat wave in early September 1898 was unrelenting.  In the period of just two days, September 3 and 4, 54 New Yorkers died.  Among them was 48-year old Harry Roll who perished in his apartment here.

In the fall of 1897 attorney Oscar Chambers Prendergrast married his "pretty young wife," Anna Shannon, as described by The Brooklyn Citizen.  When Annie, as she was known, became pregnant a few months later Oscar abandoned her.  He begrudgingly agreed to return, but when she became pregnant a second time in 1899 he left again.  With no money, a baby to take care of and another on the way, the 25-year old moved back to her mother's home in Brooklyn.  She pleaded with Oscar to provide her a home, and finally received a letter with an address of an apartment.

On May 23, 1900, with her five-week old infant in her arms, she told a judge "when I found out where the place was it was a sub-basement at No. 42 Morton street.  It was not a place where I could take my children to, and, besides, he had a pal living with him there.  I did not want to go and take my children where there was another man."

Pendergrast had no interest in being a family man.  The Brooklyn Citizen said he "struck a Napoleonic attitude" and "declared excitedly that he had fought in Cuba, that he was the associate of Foster L. Backus, James G[ordon] Bennett and such men, and then dramatically exclaimed, looking down at the faltering young wife who stood tearfully beside him: 'Ye gods, that I should have been brought to such a pass as this!'"

Pendergrast, who represented himself, ranted to Magistrate Steers "I have been penned up over this woman for the last two months."  The article said he "was proceeding with a tirade against his wife when the Magistrate interrupted him, 'If you can't keep quiet I'll send you to jail.'"

He was quiet.

As proof that he had provided Annie with accommodations a letter he had sent to her was shown to the judge.  It read:

As you have not troubled me up to this date I presume there is more crooked work going on.  You who will swear your soul away will no doubt have more fabrications looked up for the court.  I am ready, however, and will hold a copy of this letter to show the court.  The address was given you and is herewith written in plain letters.  If you leave this house never to return after your vile and most disgusting conduct, you can do so.

Oscar C. Prendergast

It gave the address of No. 42 Morton Street.

The plight of young women, especially mothers, in the 19th and early 20th century was evident in Annie's willingness to remain in the abusive relationship and to accept living in the sub-basement of the building.

The judge asked Prendergast, "Will you give your wife a home?"

"The home is there, sir."

Magistrate Steers advised Annie to go to the address and look it over.  "Will my husband come and take me there?" she asked.

Prendergast did not wait for the judge to respond.  "I will not.  I am not going to lose another day's work for you."

Steers told him, "You needn't lose another day's work.  Your wife will go over to the address you give her on Sunday.  You'll let her into the house, get rid of your friend if you can, and the case in the meantime is adjourned until June 14."

That friend did not leave and Annie was still living in Brooklyn when the case came up again.  This time Prendergast told the judge, according to The Brooklyn Citizen, "that his wife had been influenced against him by a 'gang,' but he did not specify who or what the 'gang' was."  And he defended the man who lived in the apartment, saying he "was an old-time friend who was down on his luck and was a physical wreck."

The couple somehow reconciled and would eventually have two more children.  Oscar legally changed his name to Jeffrey Deprend and was still married to Annie when he died on October 20, 1955.

By the first decade of the 20th century No. 42 Morton Street was home to, mostly, Irish-born residents.  Among them were Margaret Stenson and her brother John, who were natives of County Clare.   Margaret was married in St. Joseph's Church on Sixth Avenue on May 13, 1910 to Thomas Murray.  The Irish-American Advocate said that they "are sweethearts since they toddled to school together, some twenty odd years ago, which speaks well for their future happiness."  The newlyweds remained in the Morton Street apartment.  The following year John Stenson, still sharing the address, died in his apartment.

Over the next few decades the tenant list included Irish names like Hear, Keane, Boyle and Fitzmartin.

Jane Holden had an apartment here during World War II.  In February 1945 the federal government institute a nationwide curfew on nightlife.  A United Press syndicated column on February 20 said "The entertainment industry, joining their patrons in the biggest howl since prohibition, grudgingly prepared today to comply with War Mobilization Director James F. Byrnes' 'request' for a nationwide midnight curfew on night life."

Bar and nightclub owners complained loudly.  The Tucson Daily Citizen warned "The return of the speakeasy and the loss of thousands of jobs were cited today by many cabaret proprietors was the logical results" of the curfew.  And indeed, the speakeasy was back.

Jane Holden was 26-years old and not willing to end her night out at midnight.  So she found a Yorkville night spot that operated after hours.  Unfortunately for her, so did the police.  On March 5, 1945 the Daily News ran the headline "Court Stuns 15 Curfew Scoffers with: 'Fined $5'"  The article said "The eight men and seven women had come into court believing this was going to be just a repetition of the old prohibition-time brush-off" and that only the operators would "come to grief."  Instead Magistrate William A. Farrell charged them with disorderly conduct and a fine equal to $70 today.

Little has changed, externally, to Mortimer Merritt's 1889 flathouse.  Inside much of the original detailing has been lost, but the configuration of about four apartments per floor remains.  It provides a fine example of late 19th century taste in middle-class apartment design.

photographs by the author

A Wolf, a Dog and a Lion -- Mortimer Merritt's 1890 141 West Broadway

The interesting little building is vised between larger structures.

Philip McDowell, known popularly in newspapers as "Phil," listed his profession as "cigar and liquor merchant."  To be more specific, he was the proprietor of the Foghorn Tavern at No. 214 Ninth Avenue, one of the oldest in the city.

Born in New York City of immigrant parents in 1840, he was educated in the public schools.  As a teenager he entered the Union Army, serving on the staff of General George McClellan.   At just 24 years old he opened the Foghorn Tavern in 1864.  The New York Times later said it "quickly became the headquarters for politicians of every grade."

As his success grew, McDowell lavished money on his saloon's interiors.  He purchased valuable paintings and statuary for the tavern, which The Evening World later said "became the fashionable resort of the west side, and was popular with Chester A. Arthur, Cornelius Van Cott, Fred Gibbs, the Beglins, and the other Republican politicians."

Like so many of his regular patrons, he involved himself in politics; first becoming a member of Tammany Hall, then an independent Democrat and finally a Republican.

 In 1889, having amassed a substantial personal fortune, McDowell tried his hand at speculative real estate.  He purchased the old brick house at No. 43 South Fifth Avenue, built around 1810, and hired architect Mortimer C. Merritt to design a modest commercial structure to replace it.

As the building was rising, the colorful Philip McDowell set off for his annual pilgrimage to Ireland where he owned a home.  On June 13 1889 The Sun announced, in somewhat tongue-in-cheek reporting, "Col. McDowell has the records to prove the fact that he is a descendant of one of the Irish Kings and that he has a right to a seat on the throne...Col. McDowell is a Tammanyite of high feather in the Thirteenth District Committee, and the members of the committee will be treated handsomely if he becomes Kind of Ireland.

McDowell's building was completed in 1890.  His choice of architects had made sense, since Merritt specialized in business buildings.  For this project he blended two popular styles, Queen Anne and neo-Grec.  The three-story building was completed in 1890 and, despite its relatively small scale, it held its own among the loft buildings around it with its striking design.

The two floors of brick above the cast iron store front overflowed with creative detail.  Spandrel panes of dog-tooth brick separated the second and third floors.  Single incised lines within the piers, coupled with rough-cut stones that smacked of capitals, implied pilasters.  An elaborate pressed metal cornice and parapet crowned the the building.  But it was the keystones of the third floor that took center stage.  Their totally unexpected designs took the shape of a fox or wolf, a dog, and a lion.

The floppy-eared dog seems a bit out of place between two fierce beasts.

Perhaps the first tenant in the building was the Pickerton Detective Agency, which made its headquarters here at least by July 1892.

Within a year of his office building being completed McDowell showed signs of mental unbalance.   Friends first noticed it early in 1893 when the 52-year old life-long bachelor claimed he had purchased the Brooklyn Tabernacle (he had not).   His brother, James, had him taken to the Bloomingdale Asylum on May 8 after he was diagnosed with paresis--a form of dementia often caused by advanced syphilis.

As with all alleged cases of insanity, especially those involving the wealthy, an "inquisition" was ordered.  The procedure was to intended to prevent family members from fraudulently committing sane relatives to get control of their money.   McDowell's case was presented to a jury on May 15.  The Sun reported "Many friends of his were in court."  What ensued was a violent and dramatic scene.

Jurors listened to testimonies while McDowell was guarded by two "keepers" from the asylum.  "Suddenly McDowell, who had been as quiet as a lamb, jumped up and ran like a deer for the street," reported The New York Times.   "He was captured near the front door by the keepers."

He screamed "Let me go! Let me go!  I'm not crazy.  This is a conspiracy to kill me," and insisted his confinement was "a put up job."

Judge McAdam, who had known McDowell personally for 40 years, directed that he be returned to the Bloomingdale Asylum.  But, said The Sun, "the two attendants from that asylum had a heavy job put upon them.  McDowell, who is short, is strongly built.  He fought all the way to the Supreme Court floor, and the court attendants had to assist in his removal."

Declared insane by the courts, McDowell was committed and his brother took over the management of his estate, including the Foghorn Tavern and the South Fifth Avenue building.

Philip McDowell's stay in the insane asylum would not be especially long.  He died on October 4, 1894.  His funeral was held in the Foghorn Tavern four days later.

The many friends and politicians present during the funeral were no doubt shocked five months later when Agnes N. McDowell sued to have James McDowell removed as administrator of his brother's estate.  She claimed to be the wife of Philip McDowell.

She told the court on March 27, 1895 "that James McDowell has known for years that she was the wife of his brother."  The enterprising woman managed only to hold up the process and in the end James inherited his brother's entire estate.

In 1897 South Fifth Avenue was renamed West Broadway.  James McDowell continued to manage what was now No. 141 West Broadway along with the Foghorn Tavern.   One Midwestern newspaper commented that from the tavern alone he "made more money than he could spend."

His long-time girlfriend, Clara de Brave, was a fixture in the Foghorn Tavern.  The Evening World described her as "a beautiful young woman" and their relationship as "a deep friendship."  As had been the case with his brother, his friends and business associates would get a major shock following his death in June 1903.

The Evening World reported "a woman claiming to be his widow appeared at his funeral, and that was the first his host of friends ever knew of his marriage."  But unlike Agnes N. McDowell's attempted scam; Elizabeth McDowell's story was true.

His will was read on June 18 and it contained some surprising bequests.  Robert "Bob" Forbes and Charles "Charlie" Brady, both of whom had been barkeepers for 10 years, received the Foghorn Tavern.  The New-York Tribune said it " contained paintings and statuary valued at $30,000"--in the neighborhood of $845,000 today.  Everything else went to Clara de Brave, except for $1,000 for Elizabeth.

Newspapers later explained that James had wanted to cut Elizabeth out of his estate totally, but was "compelled" by the order of a police justice to leave her "a small allowance."  So he added a clause that coldly described Elizabeth as "who for thirty years has been no wife to me."

The Evening World called her "the little white-haired woman" and said her inheritance was "a paltry sum."  Elizabeth explained that they were married in St. Stephen's Church in 1862 when she was just 17 years old.   Things started off badly almost from the beginning.  A daughter was born who died soon afterward and then, in 1864 Elizabeth contracted typhoid fever, which worsened into paralysis.

"When me husband learned that my right side was paralyzed and that I was helpless, he proposed that I go to live with my mother.  That was the beginning of the end.  We were Catholics and he could not get a divorce.  I have loved him all these years in spite of the fact that I knew he did not care to live with me."

The Evening World tugged at its reader's emotions when it described "The white-haired woman, whose long thirty years silence on her interrupted romance was broken when she crept beside the coffin of her husband at his funeral."  The article noted "Until that day none of McDowell's friends had ever seen his wife but the pitiful figure of the little gray-haired woman moved all to sympathy for her."

Like Agnes McDowell, Elizabeth contested the will.  She told a reporter "All I can say is that I think it was unkind of my husband to leave his fortune to another woman, and besides that he left his business to his employees."

And, again like Agnes, Elizabeth's suit was unsuccessful.  Clara de Brave received nearly $150,000 (nearly $4.25 million today) and the West Broadway building, which was bringing in about $2,500 a year in rents.

It would seem to most that the battle over James McDowell's estate was over now.   But in May 1906 Clara found herself back in court when Bob Forbes and Charlie Brady claimed ownership of their former boss's jewelry.   They asserted that McDowell's diamond ring and cuff links were part of the "personal property in the saloon and its premises" which they had inherited.

Patrons to the Foghorn Tavern well remembered James's flashy jewelry.  The New York Times said that during the "frequent and popular entertainments" McDowell gave for Republican politicians "the ring, with its big single stone, and the equally radiant cuff links, were the most conspicuous objects in the place."

The court decided on May 22, 1906 that the jewelry was not included in the Foghorn Tavern property and that neither was Elizabeth McDowell entitled to it.  Instead the ring and "sleeve buttons" went to Clara.

When Clara de Brave sold No. 141 West Broadway to Albert Gans on February 6, 1908, the colorful chapters in the history of the little building drew to an end.  Its unremarkable tenants included a bakery, run by Max Serota; the Triangle Shoe Store; and the Metropolitan Barber Shop.  In the 1940s the upper floors were home to importer Charles Frederick Schneider.

Although the red brick was painted gray some in the 20th century, the stonework was originally left natural.

One out-of-the-ordinary occupant was Henry Herbert Frederick Trefflich, an "animal dealer," who leased the ground floor space in the 1970s.  He received a daunting assignment in July 1974 when the Central Park Zoo decided to replace its two adult hippopotamuses, Falstaff and Rosey, and their year old daughter, Daisy, with two pygmy hippos.   John W. Fitzgerald, the zoo's director, explained "The pygmy hippos will be more of a novelty, and they, of course, will need less space."

Now Trefflich had to figure out how to get the unwieldy cargo to its new home in a Toronto zoo.  The shock of being transported could be injurious to the animals so Trefflich spent days introducing them to their shipping crates.

Rosie smiles for the camera while daughter Daisy looks on.  In the background are the shipping crates.  photo by The New York Times, July 30, 1974

On Tuesday, July 30 he told a New York Times reporter it would take at least another week.  "I hope that maybe I can get them used to the crates and into them by Tuesday or Wednesday."

Today the facade of No. 141 West Broadway is painted gray, disguising the contrast of stone and brick.  The upper floors have been converted to apartments and a modern storefront replaces most of the cast iron base.  But Mortimer Merritt's quirky keystone menagerie, mostly unnoticed by rushing New Yorkers, continues to stare down at passersby after more than 125 years.

photographs by the author

The 1902 Higgins & Seiter Bldg --Nos. 53-55 West 21st Street

photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel -- salokin.com

By the turn of the last century, the blocks between Fifth and Sixth Avenues below 23^rd Street—once tony residential enclaves—saw drastic change.  Retail establishments spilled over from Sixth Avenue, the major shopping district for women; and small businesses set up in converted rowhouses.

Well-dressed females shopping for wedding gifts or enviable cut glass lemonade sets for themselves most likely instructed their carriage drivers to take them to Nos. 50 through 54 West 22^nd Street.  Here Higgins & Seiter operated its china and glass emporium; considered among the foremost in the city.

The firm was organized just after the end of the Civil War by Colonel Charles Jacob Seiter of the 7^th Regiment and brothers Barton B. and Arthur Higgins.  The partnership was formalized in 1887 and the three men filled their warerooms with the highest grade and costliest home items imported from Europe.

Business was booming for the retailer and in 1901 it opened a connecting annex directly behind its store, at Nos. 51 through 55 West 21st Street.  The firm had purchased three abutting brick-faced homes which were demolished to make way for its new store and loft building.  Designed by architect Mortimer C. Merritt, who 14 years earlier had designed the massive block-wide cast iron store of Hugh O’Neill just steps away on Sixth Avenue, it was a dignified mixture of styles.  Its six stories made use of buff-colored brick, terra cotta and stone. 

An advertisement called the store "the largest and most celebrated glass and china store in the world" (copyright expired)

Two stories of expansive show windows framed in white stone would have flooded the showrooms with natural light, igniting rainbows around the crisp cut glass inside.  The motif of a Greek key within the frieze above the second story was carried on with a charming mini-Greek temple nestled within the openings of the third floor.  Since the architect felt no conflict in introducing a Greek theme into its overall neo-Renaissance design, he found no problem in splashing a few Beaux Arts elements into the mix as well.

The new structure was ready for occupancy in mid-November 1901 and Higgins & Seiter opened its new showrooms to an eager public.  On November 24 the New-York Tribune reported “Higgins & Seiter, Nos. 51, 53, and 55 West Twenty-first St., and Nos. 50, 52 and 54 West Twenty-second-st., are one of New-York’s best china firms.  Their place of business has recently been enlarged by the addition of a new six story building, richly stocked with beautiful china and glass.”

The newspaper went on to describe the opening sale bargains.  “This week they will signalize the opening of the first and second floors of their new building by the exhibition and sale of Carrara marble, bronzes, marble pedestals, dinner ware, etc.  They will offer many handsome bargains in their cut glass department.  Inspect particularly their cut glass decanters, cut glass jugs, Limoges china, Wedgewood china and English Caldron.”  The New York Times would later opine that it had "as its customers some of the best known people in the city.”

A bride's basket, advertised in Harper's Magazine in 1905, illustrated why Higgins & Seiter called itself "The Great Present Store of the Metropolis" (copyright expired)

It would seem that there was no end to the success of the high-end retailers and about six years later they expanded again.  On January 13, 1907 The New York Times reported that Higgins & Seiter had leased the store and basement of the 12-story building adjoining its 22^nd Street property.  The china and glass store now boasted an L-shaped emporium that stretched from No. 50 through 58 on West 22^nd Street and through the block to three full lots on West 21^st Street.

But while Higgins & Seiter was expanding, other retailers along the Ladies’ Mile were moving on.  In 1902 Roland Macy startled many when he moved his department store from 6^th Avenue and 14^th Street to Herald Square—far above the retail district.  It was the first domino to fall in what would be the end of an era.  Two years later Benjamin Altman reported that he intended to build “an enormous store” on Fifth Avenue diagonally across from the exclusive Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.

On October 9, 1910 Charles Seiter suffered a heart attack while playing golf at the Siawanoy Country Club.  He was brought home to his Mount Vernon, New York home and his wife gave him bicarbonate of soda while awaiting the doctor.  Before he arrived, Colonel Seiter was dead.

Along with his bequeaths to his widow and six children, Seiter left the firm a life insurance policy of $50,000—over $1 million today.  Now the remaining partners had to decide how to invest that windfall into the company.

A miniature temple rests on a cornice embellished with a Greek key design -- photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel -- salokin.com

By now Higgins & Seiter was among the handful of exclusive retailers left along 6^th Avenue between 14^th and 23^rd Streets.  The partners, too, decided to move northward.  In 1911 they abandoned their expansive store to move to Nos. 9 through 11 East 37^th Street.  It would be a fateful decision.

If the expansive store on West 22^nd and West 21^st Street was no longer a good location for Higgins & Seiter, the company found out that it was not a good location for anyone else, either.  The buildings that once glittered with cut glass whiskey sets and offered bronze and marble statues for the home now sat empty and unrentable.  The vacant real estate was a heavy drain on the company’s finances.  To make matters worse when war erupted in Europe the inflow of elegant china came to a standstill.

Despite Colonel Seiter’s hefty bequest, and the lease of the 21^st Street building finally in 1914; on February 20, 1915 The Times reported that “Higgins & Seiter of 9 East Thirty-seventh Street, one of the best-known and oldest china houses in the city, filed yesterday…in involuntary petition in bankruptcy.”

The 21^st Street building was taken over by William R. Noe & Sons, manufacturers and dealers in “illuminating glassware, mahogany lamps and silk shades.”  The firm used No. 53-55 West 21^st Street as a “large lamp, shade and novelty factory.”  William R. Noe & Sons would continue manufacturing lamp parts here through the 1920s, finally opening a Brooklyn factory in 1930.

On February 1, 1928 A. I. Shiplakoff purchased the six-story building for $125,000.  Space was leased throughout the Depression years to small manufacturers and it became the headquarters of the Pocketbook Workers’ Union.

The Pocketbook Workers’ Union would stay in the building for several years; carefully guarding the well-being of its members.  When the industrial Council of Leather Goods Manufacturers’ initiated an “open shop policy” in 1933 the Union revolted; calling for a general strike.

During the second half of the 20^th century the Ladies’ Mile suffered neglect and abuse.  The grand emporiums lining Sixth Avenue sat desolate for years until a rediscovery of the area towards the turn of the century.  In 1992 the first floor of Nos. 53-55 West 21^st Street—where wealthy women once shopped for Limoges tea sets—was converted to an “eating and drinking establishment.”

Other than the renovated street level, Mortimer Merritt’s handsome 1901 design remains unchanged.  Mostly overlooked on the side street, it is a fine example of the work a once-prominent architect who is now largely forgotten.