M. Louis Ungrich's 1886 345 and 347 West 123rd Street

 
Developers Frank Tilford and F. Keller hired architect M. Louis Ungrich in the spring of 1885 to design a row of 10 "three-story basement brick and stone private dwellings" on West 123rd Street between Morningside and Manhattan Avenues.  Turning to the popular Queen Anne style, Ungrich designed the row as five alternating, mirror-image pairs--A-B, C-D, A-B, C-D, and A-B.

The easternmost homes, Nos. 345 and 347, were among the A and B models.  At just 16-feet wide, they were clad in red brick and trimmed in brownstone and terra cotta above the stone-faced basements.  The squiggly spindles of the iron stoop railings and areaway fencing were typical of the often light-hearted Queen Anne style.  The two homes shared a stone bandcourse above the parlor and a bracketed intermediate cornice above the second floor.  An elaborate terra cotta plaque of swirling vines behind a shell straddled the property line at the third floor.  Each gable was decorated with a terra cotta rondel with a full-relief flower erupting from a sunburst.

Terra cotta details enhance the building's charm.

Tilford & Keller initially leased the homes.  An advertisement in the New-York Daily Tribune on January 23, 1887 read, "For Rent--The new and elegant house, 345 West 123d-st.; has never been occupied; will be decorated to suit tenant and rented for half rate until May 1."

It appears that the first to occupy 345 West 123rd Street was the William Mahl family.  William was born in Germany in 1843 and his wife, the former Mary Ann Skidmore, was born in England in 1848.  Mahl was the controller of the Southern Pacific Railroad Company, and he and Mary Ann had three children, Frederick William, John Thomas (known as Tom), and Edith Virginia. 

The family was still here in 1891 when Tom was studying at the Columbia University School of Mines.  The family moved away around 1892, three years before he graduated. 

(Tom's story would have a sad ending.  He married Ella Hutchins Botts in 1894 and upon graduation he was appointed the head of the Department of Maintenance and Ways of the Houston and Texas Central Railway.  The couple moved to Houston.  Ella died at the age of 29 on June 13, 1900 and, according to The New York Times, "Soon afterward his own health gave way and his physicians advised him to travel extensively.  He had consumption, they said."  In March 1901, the Mahls received word that "death was not far distant."  Mary Ann was with Tom in a private train car on March 31, 1901 when the 27-year-old died.)

The families along the row maintained a small domestic staff.  Mrs. Elizabeth Murphy, who followed the Mahls in 345 West 123rd Street, had at least one servant, Sadie Scott.  Around noon on June 1, 1894, Elizabeth returned from church and, according to The Evening World, "deposited in a closet a diamond ring valued at $100 and $125 in bills."  (Why Elizabeth would have taken the cash--equal to more than $4,800 in 2026--to church in the first place is puzzling.)  Later that afternoon, she noticed that the closet door was open and discovered the cash was missing.  The newspaper reported, "Sadie being the only one in the house suspicion fell on her."  Despite Sadie's strong denial of the crime, she was arrested and charged with grand larceny.

Tilford and Keller were looking for a new tenant for No. 347 in 1890.  Their ad on April 9 read: "Just Look--347 West 123d-st. to lease for only $1,000; three story, high-stoop house, with every improvement; decorated, chandeliers and sanitary plumbing."  The mention of chandeliers was significant.  New homeowners and renters most often had to supply their own lighting fixtures.  And "sanitary plumbing" reveals that the houses had indoor plumbing and toilets.  The rent was extremely reasonable, translating to about $3,000 per month today.

In 1896, Tilford & Keller sold the houses--345 West 123rd Street to Herbert M. Johnson and 347 to Charles D. Folsom.  

Herbert M. Johnson resold No. 345 in April 1897 to William M. Badger and his wife, Eliza.  William would not enjoy the house for long.  He died in 1899.  

Eliza sold the dwelling on May 3, 1902 to Daniel and Jane T. McGowan for $13,000 (about $500,000 today).  In an unsettling instance of déjà vu, Daniel McGowan died in the house less than a year later, on February 28, 1903.

In the meantime, Charles Folsom rented 347 West 123rd Street.  His tenants (who appear to be Harry Hull St. Clair Sr. and his wife, the former Mary Louise Harber) immediately took in a boarder.  In fact, they gave up half of the house in doing so.  An advertisement in the New-York Tribune on August 16, 1896 read: "347 West 123d-St--Strictly private family offer, with board, three large rooms; second and third floors."  ("Strictly private family" stressed that this was not a boarding house situation.)

Living here in 1896-97 was Arthur Moult Smyth, a civil engineer.  Born in 1868, he earned his Engineer of Mines degree from Lehigh University in 1890.

Harry and Mary St. Clair had a daughter, Helen, born on June 28, 1877.  On Christmas Day 1897, Mary Louse St. Clair died at the age of 44.  Newspapers noted that her funeral services would be "private."  

(Helen would go on to great success.  She would graduate from the Classical School for Girls, from Barnard College, and from Columbia University Phi Beta Kappa.  She would received her law degree from New York University Law School.)

In 1940, the original doors were intact and the masonry was not yet painted.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In the early 1900s, William Henry Bolander and his wife, the former Jennie Damon, lived at 347 West 123rd Street.  Born on September 11, 1838, he was placed in charge of the New Haven Railroad's "Pier 6, East River" in 1878, according to The New York Times.  William still held that position when he died on October 28, 1913 at the age of 75.  His funeral was held in the parlor on the 31st.

The McGowan family retained possession of 345 West 123rd Street into the Depression years.  By the mid-1940s it was operated as a rooming house.  Among the tenants in 1947 was Lamar Harris who got into trouble in Ossining, New York on the afternoon of April 7 that year.  The Citizen-Register reported that he was arrested at the Ossining Railroad Station "on a charge of disorderly conduct" and fined $10.  The article did not go into details of what constituted his offense.

Next door, 347 West 123rd Street was home to the St. Joseph Council Service Station of the Knights of Columbus in the post-World War I years.  Never converted to apartments, it is a single-family home today.  Its architectural fraternal twin was less lucky.  There are eight residential units in 345 West 123rd Street.

photographs by the author

The 1891 Alberta Apartments - 202 West 81st Street

 

Born in Funchal, Portugal in 1838 and a veteran of the Civil War, George W. Da Cunha lived with his wife, Rosina, in New Jersey in the last quarter of the 19th century.  But that did not stop him from designing and erecting some of the most notable Manhattan buildings of the period.  Looking back at his early career in 1917, The Montclair Times recalled that he "built a number of buildings which at that time attracted considerable attention for originality of design and style of construction."

In 1891, Da Cunha acquired the lots at 202 and 204 West 81st Street and filed plans for "two five-story and stone flats" on the site.  Each of them was projected to cost $40,000 to construct, or about $1.46 million in 2026 terms.  The project was a husband-and-wife effort, with Rosina W. Da Cunha listed as the owner of record.

Completed within the year, the two buildings--The Alberta and The Madria--were distinctly different.  The Alberta at 202 West 81st Street was designed in the Romanesque Revival style with light-hearted touches of Queen Anne.  Its double-doored entrance sat within a yawning maw above a four-step stoop.  It was flanked by large gas lanterns supported by ornate cast iron brackets.  The first and second floors were faced in rough cut brownstone.  The paired windows of the first floor were fronted with half-bowls carved with Romanesque designs.  Small Queen Anne-style panes outlined the upper half of the second floor openings.

Impressive gas lanterns flank the arched entrance.  The transoms of the first-floor windows most likely held stained glass.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The upper three floors were faced in red brick and trimmed in brownstone.  Queen Anne and Romanesque Revival coexisted at the top floor.  Here the stone corner ornament and the arched eyebrows that rested on an intricately carved bandcourse were purely Romanesque Revival.  The small window panes, the offset gable, and the terra cotta fans within the tympanums were Queen Anne.

via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

An advertisement offered, "seven and eight rooms to a suite; all improvements; decorated, steam heat, hot water; furnished and hall attendance."  It boasted that the parlors were finished "in white and gold."  Rents ranged from $55 to $75 (nearly $3,000 per month in today's terms for the most expensive).

Among the early tenants were Dr. Rollin B. Gray and his wife, the former Lydia Dutcher Whitney.  Born in Randolph, Pennsylvania in 1840, Gray received his medical degree from the Homoeopathic College of New York in 1871.  He and Lydia had two children, Anita and Marian.  (Two other daughters, Lillian and Elizabeth had died at the ages of five and one, respectively.)

Dr. Rolling B. Gray, from Gray Genealogy, 1887 (copyright expired)

Several years after moving into The Alberta, Dr. Gray caused panic among mothers and nannies throughout the Upper East and West Sides.  On June 30, 1901, the New-York Tribune began an article saying, "Dr. Rollin B. Gray, who for years has had a practice among people on the west side of Central Park, says that Manhattan's great breathing space is a bad place to take young children, because of malaria."  Gray had convened reporters to his office here to sound the alarm.  He told them that in the past few days he had treated two babies who "were stricken with malaria while being wheeled through the park."  Gray explained that mosquitoes, which carried the disease, were breeding in the stagnant pools and decayed vegetation of the park.

He quickly faced vehement opposition.  One park policeman told a reporter from the New-York Tribune, "This is the greatest place for babies that ever was.  They thrive on the fresh air and enjoy the shade just as much as older people.  Thousands of babies are brought here every day.  Do you suppose that we would not have heard of it before if the park was reeking with malaria?"  A more authoritative opinion came from the Board of Health.  While admitting that there were mosquitoes in the park, an official said that "Central Park mosquitoes are not the malaria carrying kind."  The article added, "the officers say that Manhattan is remarkably free from the disease."

In the meantime, the residents of The Alberta were, like the Grays, upper-middle class.  Each of the families had at least one servant.  On September 24, 1899, for instance, one resident advertised for a "competent and reliable German governess."

The Alberta was purchased in 1901 by the wife of James Daniel.  Daniel was described by the New York Herald as "a traveling salesman for a stove company," and his wife, said The New York Times, "is said to be wealthy."  The couple, who had a rocky relationship, moved into an apartment here.

According to Mrs. Daniel, her husband "was a hard drinker and went on sprees two or three times a month," recounted The New York Times.  She said, "when in this condition he usually went to stay with his friend [William H.] Messenger.  He was never violent when drunk, but simply had the good taste to stay away from home until sober."  

And so, when James did not return home on the night of August 17, 1903 and was still absent five days later, Mrs. Daniel was not especially concerned.  And, indeed, during that period James Daniel was staying with William Messenger on East 138th Street.  On August 21, the two went to Coney Island, where they continued their week-long bender.  When they returned to Manhattan, reported the New York Herald, "they decided not to go directly to Messenger's room, but to rest at the pier at the foot of East 132nd Street."  The drunken men were "skylarking," according to witnesses.  Suddenly, the 36-year-old Daniel jumped into the water "clothes and all."

After swimming around for a few minutes, Daniel was not able to climb out of the water.  The New York Herald said he "tried to cling to the piles supporting the piers."  By the time policemen jumped in to rescue him, it was too late.  James Daniel was pulled from the water unconscious and died shortly afterward.  (Messenger was arrested for intoxication.)

Police went to The Alberta apartment to notify his wife.  (The New York Times parenthetically said it "is a handsome four-story [sic] structure built for private apartments and the property of Mrs. Daniel).  The newspaper said she "didn't seem much surprised."

Typical of the residents at the time of Daniel's death was financier Edward R. Holden, the head of E. R. Holden & Co., and an owner of a mine and a smeltery. 

The building continued to attract upper-middle-class residents.  On January 29, 1911, for instance, The New York Times reported, "The Misses McCarthy, 202 West Eighty-first Street, gave a musicale on Thursday evening at their home."  

Among the sisters' neighbors in the building at the time was Brigadier General Franclyn Elbert Davis.  Born in Brooklyn in 1858, he received a bachelor's degree from St. John's College, a Ph.G. from the Massachusetts College of Pharmacy, and a medical degree from the University of Victoria Medical College.  His astounding resume included military surgeon, pharmacist, director of the National Volunteer Emergency Services, and author.  The 1916 One Thousand American Men of Mark Today said, "He has traveled all over the world, and was the first man to introduce into this country serums from the Institut Pasteur, Paris, and to introduce oxygen apparatus for the life saving of the miners."

Around 1912, the building was renamed The Maryland.  The residents continued to be respectable and upstanding.  Living here by 1918 were clergyman and poet James Benjamin Kenyon and his wife, the former Margaret Jane Taylor.  Born in 1858 in Frankfort, New York, he entered the Methodist Episcopal ministry in 1878.  Among his books of poetry were the 1887 In Realms of Gold; At the Gate of Dreams, published in 1892; and the 1895 An Oaten Pipe.

The post-World War I years brought a more working class tenant list.  Living here in 1921 were Robert Ryan, a "night worker," as described by The Evening World, and his wife.  The couple had a serious scare that year.  On the morning of November 15, Ryan returned from work to find his wife in convulsions.  She told him that she "had taken bichloride of mercury by mistake."  The Evening World reported, "She was taken to the Knickerbocker Hospital and is expected to recover."

The once sprawling apartments were dissected into rented rooms as early as 1923.  On September 12 that year, Detectives Martin Owens, Thomas Horan and John Cronin followed Irving Cohan and Joseph Levine, who were suspected in an armed robbery, to a third floor apartment.  When no one answered their knock, Horan and Cronin waited in the hallway while Owens went to the roof, climbed down the rear fire escape and entered through a window.  He opened the door for his partners.  The New York Times reported, "The air was acrid with fumes from a quantity of opium simmering on a gas burner.  A complete opium layout was found on a table."

The detectives arrested Esther Kaplan, a.k.a. Newberg, and five men.  In addition to the opium and equipment, they discovered two firearms.  "Both were fully loaded, and the lead bullets in the revolver were criss-crossed with lines to cause them to mushroom upon impact," said the article.

The following year, resident Benedict Radus, who listed his profession as a real estate agent, was arrested with three other men in a conspiracy to rob wealthy Dr. Hugo J. Loebinger.  Radus told the doctor he could acquire $43,000 worth of stolen Liberty bonds and a large sum of Russian gold rubles "which could be obtained at about one-quarter their value," explained The New York Times on August 26, 1924.  When Loebinger arrive at Radus's apartment with $7,000, the other two conspirators had a satchel containing magazines and newspapers "arranged in bundles in the shape and size of Liberty bonds."  The trio was prepared "with coils of rope and a pistol," said police.  The plan fell apart when Loebinger escaped.

Wilfred Lillback rented rooms here in 1927.  The son of a Brooklyn clergyman, he had been arrested in 1924 for a hold-up.  His lawyer at that time pleaded for clemency because "an accident to his head when a child had made a criminal of him."

On January 20, 1927, Policeman Sullivan noticed three trunks and three automobiles at the curb of 202 West 81st Street.  When he questioned them, one of the men explained they were moving.  Unconvinced, Sullivan "forced the man to take him to the apartment."  Inside, he found Lillback and another man in "a room full of stolen clothing."  Lillback and his accomplices, Charles Hayes and Will Abramson were arrested and charged of committing nine burglaries in Brooklyn.

via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

James J. Barrett and Joseph Robert Sylvester, who were 23 and 19 years old respectively, shared a furnished room here in 1950.  Sylvester, despite his age, had three felony convictions.  On the afternoon of April 29, they and another man, Robert Adelman, attempted to stick-up the Jewel Chest on Sixth Avenue.  The jewelry store had been purchased only a month earlier by Jacob Wasserman, a survivor from the Nazi concentration camp where his parents were killed.  The trio botched the robbery and Wasserman was shot.  The perpetrators fled in separate directions.

Barrett did not get far.  He was seized by a patrolman nearby.  At the 47th Street police station, he gave up the names and addresses of his accomplices.  Their legal troubles worsened when Jacob Wasserman died from his injuries on May 2.

Later that year, on November 18, 1950, another resident, 30-year-old Carlos Villasnov, was captured as he ran from the Macy's Department store in Jamaica, Queens.  He and two others had just slipped three men's suits from a rack and into a cardboard box.

Renting a room here in 1963 was ex-convict Alberto Gomez.   He had been released from Rikers Island in June 1962.  On July 25, he attempted to cash stolen travelers checks in a Chemical Bank branch in midtown.  The teller recognized the check numbers from a bulletin reporting the thefts.  When he summoned a manager, Gomez bolted.  He was arrested minutes later and charged for "receiving stolen money orders, felonious assault and forgery."

Renovations completed in the late 20th century resulted in five apartments per floor.  In the remodeling, the entrance doors and windows were modernized (sadly with loss of the Queen Anne panes), and the first floor windows shortened.  The entrance lanterns were removed, the gable chopped off, and the terra cotta shells of the top floor removed and replaced with sheet metal.  The masonry was painted as well.

photographs by the author

The 1889 John and Catharine Brosnan House - 146 West 74th Street

 

Real estate was one of the few businesses in which women would thrive in the 19th century.  In 1888, Mary J. Coar hired architect Edward L. Angell to design five upscale rowhouses at West 74th Street between Ninth and Tenth Avenues (renamed Columbus and Amsterdam, respectively, in 1890).  Mary Coar was not only the owner and developer of the project, but she was listed as the contractor as well.

Angell's plans, filed in March, described five four-story "brick, brown stone trimmed" dwellings.  Each would cost $25,000 to construct, or about $902,000 in 2026.  Designed in the popular Queen Anne Style, they were completed in 1889.  Like the other four houses, the basement and parlor levels of 146 West 74th Street were clad in rough-cut brownstone and the upper floors in red brick.  A dog-legged box stoop rose to the double-doored entrance, protected by a stone hood decorated with foliate designs and turret-like finials.

A charming three-sided bay above the entrance supported a small balcony to the third floor.  The transoms at the first through third floors were filled with colorful stained glass, while the upper sashes of the top floor were divided into multiple panes, typical of the Queen Anne style.

This photograph of the row in 1940 shows the stained glass transoms and upper Queen Anne-style sashes intact.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The house was purchased by John and Catharine Brosnan.  The couple had five children, John Jr., Loretto G., Mary T., Angela M., and Francis Xavier.

Born in Ireland, John Brosnan came to New York City at around 15 or 16 years old.  He listed his profession as "grocer;" however, his business at 157 Fulton Street was more accurately described as a saloon and wine importer.  

An ardent Roman Catholic, he did not operate a rowdy, disreputable establishment.  The New York Times would later say that he was "well known among wine traders throughout the United States" and that he "made a specialty of importing Spanish, Portuguese, and other wines not only into this country...but also to various countries of Europe."  He also suppled altar wine to many Roman Catholic churches.

Opened in 1850, Brosnan's operation was not opulent.  The New York Herald would later say, "The fittings were crude in their simplicity but they lent a distinctive atmosphere to the place.  They consisted chiefly of plain sawed oak with heavy cage wire to protect the bottle shelves.  A cash register never found its way into the establishment."  The New York Sun would add, "The old ale pumps, bright like those of venerable English inns, shine benevolently out of the dim background."

Nearly revered was a table in a rear room.  Called the Garibaldi Table, it was there in 1850, according to The Sun, that "Garibaldi planned the liberation of Italy."  On February 2, 1919, the newspaper would recall:

The room where Garibaldi assembled his junta is just as it was in his day.  In the middle of it is a ponderous table with massive curlycue legs and topped with an octagonal slab of red marble.

The "Garibaldi Table" could be admired, but no one was permitted to sit at it.  The Sun, February 2, 1919 (copyright expired)

Francis Xavier Brosnan was enrolled in Columbia University's School of Mines when the family moved in.  He would graduate with a civil engineering degree.  Upon his marriage to Mathilda Claire Jones, the population of 146 West 74th Street increased by one.  Sadly, Mathilda died on September 9, 1896.  Her funeral was held in the parlor on September 12 followed by a solemn requiem mass at Francis Xavier's Church on West 16th Street.

During a severe snow storm on the evening of February 13, 1899, the three Brosnan daughters entertained friends.  At 9:00 John, Catherine and Francis went to bed.  Two hours later, the sisters' guests left.  The New York Herald reported, "They had just put out the lights and gone to bed when one of them smelled smoke coming from the basement and awakened their parents."

The New York Times reported, "A citizen turned in an alarm," but the fire engines were severely hampered by the snowdrifts.  The New York Herald said that at Columbus Avenue and 74th Street, "Both got stuck in the snow.  The firemen had to drag the lines of hose up to the house, which was in the middle of the block, and by that time the flames had gained a good headway."  The family (except John) hurriedly dressed and ran to the Burke house across the street.  "Instead of making his escape or attempting to dress, Mr. Brosnan, who is about seventy years old, devoted his efforts to save a grand piano that was in the parlor where the floor was burning."

When firefighters arrived, they found Brosnan "dressed in a nightgown and an overcoat, trying to push the piano from the parlor into the hall," according to the New York Herald.  He was "in imminent danger of going with the instrument through the burning floor into the flames below," said The New York Times.  Despite his protest, the firefighters carried Brosnan through the waist-high snowdrifts to the Burke house.  

There, Catharine exclaimed that she had laid her diamond earrings on the dresser.  George Patterson, an underwriter who had arrived along with the firefighters, overheard this.  He ran into the burning house, found the jewelry, and brought it to Catharine.  When the blaze was extinguished, the New York Herald said, "The two upper floors of the house were badly damaged."  The New York Times reported the damages at $8,000 to the structure and $10,000 in furnishings.  (The total loss would translate to about $721,000 today.)

There was more significant collateral damage unknown at the time.  On March 7, 1899, the New York Herald wrote, "John Brosnan, an importer of wines and groceries who was widely known throughout the country, died on Saturday at his home, 146 West Seventy-fourth street, after an illness of two weeks."  His death was attributed to "shock and exposure to the cold on the night of February 13, when Mr. Brosnan's house was partially wrecked by fire."  Because of the fire damage to the house, Brosnan's funeral was held at the Church of the Blessed Sacrament on 71st Street and Broadway.

Francis X. Brosnan never remarried, nor did his sisters marry.  The women were active in society, however.  On February 3, 1907, for instance, the New York Herald reported, "Miss Angela Brosnan recently entertained the members of the Thursday Matinee Whist Club at her home, No. 146 West Seventy-fourth Street.  Miss Nora Costello won the prize for the best playing."

Like Mary J. Coar, who erected the Brosnan house, Mary and Angela Brosnan engaged in real estate operations.  They bought and rented properties singly or together throughout the first decades of the 20th century.  (Their sister, Loretto G. Brosnan, died on March 1, 1909.)  

On April 18, 1910, the New-York Tribune reported that Mary T. Brosnan leased her father's saloon from the estate.  She and Angela continued to wheel and deal in real estate.  On June 20, 1911, The New York Times reported that Mary had purchased a Christopher Street property for $6,500, and on April 24, 1912, the Board of Aldermen reported that the sisters had leased 22 Vandam Street "for the use of the Department of Health as a Tuberculosis Clinic."

 

A view of Brosnan's just before Prohibition closed it forever.  The Sun, February 2, 1919 (copyright expired)

In October 1919, Congress passed the Volstead Act, which would usher in Prohibition.  It meant the end of the venerable Brosnan's on Fulton Street.  The Brosnan siblings sold their lease on the property and newspapers throughout the city lamented the barroom's closing.  On March 7, 1920, The Sun remarked that Prohibition:

...wiped out Brosnan's saloon at 157 Fulton street.  Here, however, the heirs of old John Brosnan, who founded the business, were only too glad to accept the handsome price offered them by the bank for their lease on the property, for the Brosnan establishment was renowned for good whiskey and its mellow and potent old ale on draught.

Angela M. Brosnan died in the house on April 19, 1920.  Her funeral was held in the Church of the Blessed Sacrament on the 21st.  

Five years later, on November 7, 1925, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that 146 West 74th Street had been sold.  "It is the first sale of the parcel in 35 years," said the article.  The purchaser was another Irish native, John Carway.

Carway was the proprietor of two restaurants--the Dublin Club on the second floor of 149 East 42nd Street and The Dublin on 82nd Street and Amsterdam Avenue.  Only months after he purchased the former Brosnan house, on March 13, 1926, the Irish-American newspaper The Advocate reported, "A branch of the Dublin restaurant...has been opened at 146 West 74th street, under the name of the 'Dublin House."  The article said, "Both are under the management of Mr. Caraway [sic], a well-known Dublin man and caterer."  Carway's opening advertisement called the restaurant, "A rendezvous for gourmets; discriminating people appreciate exclusiveness."

On May 7, 1926, The New York Times said the Dublin House "occupies a dwelling.  Its patronage consists largely of the sporting element and theatrical people.  It is known as one of the 'high-class' eating places of Manhattan and has a large bar."  It was that large bar that got Carway into trouble.  A week before The Times' article, Government agents "seized $3,000 worth of liquor there," said the article.

The incident seems to have rehabilitated John Carway's operation.  At least for a time.  On April 1, 1932, The New York Times reported, "Another raid was made on the Dublin House, 146 West Seventy-fourth Street, a restaurant occupying three floors."  The Prohibition agents seized 75 bottles and arrested Carway and three waiters.

By 1943, 146 West 74th Street was operated as a rooming house.   When it was sold in September that year, The New York Times described it as a "remodeled rooming house."  It was purchased by Mary Mackay in May 1950.  She was the president of the newly formed 146 West 74th Street, Inc.

A renovation in 1972 resulted in duplex and triplex apartments.  Another remodeling, completed in 1988, added a penthouse level, unseen from the sidewalk.   Despite the unfortunate loss of the stained glass transoms and the Queen Anne upper floor sashes, the Brosnan house survives remarkably intact.

photographs by the author

Jobst Hoffman's 1880 29 East 7th Street

 

German-born architect Jobst Hoffmann filed plans for a "five-story brick apartment house" at 29 East 7th Street in February 1880 for developer Isaak Horchster.  Hoffmann's plans projected the cost of construction at $11,000, or about $357,000 in 2026 terms.  Seven months later, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide's "Watch The Records" column noted that liens had been filed against the owners of 25 and 27 East 7th Street.  The new owner of that property, Z. H. Miller, hired Hoffman to design two apartment buildings that would exactly match 29 East 7th Street, already under construction.

Hoffman's design was a blend of Queen Anne and neo-Grec styles.  And he introduced a splash of the Esthetic style in the whimsical cast iron fencing and stoop railings, composed of stylized sunflowers.

The stylized sunflowers were echoed in the incised carving of the stone stoop newels.

The paired ground floor openings shared a lintel decorated with a small rosette.  The centered entrance was crowned with an earred cornice inspired by ancient Greece.  The four upper stories were clad in red brick and trimmed in sandstone.  Hooded lintels decorated the second and fourth floor openings and between the third and fourth, Hoffmann added colorful encaustic, quilt-like tiles.

Colorful Queen Anne tiles and a fanciful cast iron ornament (the left half of which has been lost) decorate the facade.

The brick piers of the top floor wore cast metal capitals decorated with bosses.  They upheld the corbels of the elaborate pressed metal cornice.

No. 29 East 7th Street was known as a "double flat," meaning there were two apartments per floor.  Among the initial tenants was Auguste Schelcher.  He was on his way with friends to the ball of the Société Culinaire Philanthropique on the evening of April 30, 1883, when his night of gaiety turned to horror.  The New York Times reported that the group "were in a pleasant mood."  As they passed 404 Sixth Avenue, Désiré L. Houvet, a French chef and another member of the Société Culinaire Philanthropique, exited the building.  The New York Times reported:

Two or three were in a convivial condition, and they made jocose remarks when Houvet ran out...placing his hands on the shoulders of H. Barbier, of No. 49 West Twenty-seventh-street, and Auguste Schelcher, of No. 29 East Seventh-street, [and] sank to the pavement.  But their merriment changed to fear when they saw Houvet gasping and unable to speak.

The "elegantly dressed" Houvet had just been stabbed in the back by Elizabeth Quinquinet.  The New York Times would later explain, "Houvet, who was single, had led Mrs. Quinquinet astray and they had quarreled."  The 33-year-old Houvet died on the scene and, presumably, the evening that Auguste Schelcher's had looked forward to came to an end.

Josephine Frank, who lived here with her 10-year-old daughter in 1885, was in financial straits.  She was married to Lippman Frank on April 17, 1876, and "lived together for one year and a half.  Then they separated by mutual consent," according to the New-York Tribune.  In January 1886, she sued her husband for support, charging him with abandonment.

In court on January 19, Josephine presented a letter from the Commissioners of Charities and Correction, "stating that it was likely that she would become a burden on the taxpayers, unless her husband was compelled to support her," reported the New-York Tribune.  She, however, had to explain to the court what she had done with the money her husband had provided for.  When they separated, he gave her two houses on East 11th Street.  Josephine claimed that they were "in a bad condition and were torn down soon afterward."  She lost the properties in foreclosure.

Josephine had also neglected to mention that she and Lippman were not separated, they were divorced.  Lippman Frank presented a decree of divorced dated 1878 and Justice Power, "said that Mrs. Frank's claims fell to the ground."  He told the disappointed woman that she could, however, initiate a new suit for the support of the child.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The Hessler family occupied an apartment here in 1896 when their 15-year-old son, Charles, became a hero of sorts.  At 2:00 on the afternoon of July 7, Charles was on the Bowery near Catharine Street.  He saw 68-year-old John M. Sweitzer, who  was inebriated and lived in Utica, staggering along the sidewalk.  Suddenly three men rushed up and robbed him of $40.  The New-York Tribune explained that Sweitzer, "was unable, owing to his condition, to furnish any description of the robbers." 

Young Hessler, however, was quite able to describe them.  He told police that two had boarded a Second Avenue street car and the other went away on foot.  The article said, "With the boy, Detective Cahill entered a corner saloon, and Hessler pointed out [John] Long as the man whom he had seen standing to one side while the robbery was committed."  Charles Hessler countered Long's testimony that he "knew nothing of the affair."  On the weight of teen's affidavit, Long was committed to the Tombs Prison for further investigation.

Pauline Zelba lived here in 1913.  She and two friends, Emma Stern and Celia Shubert partnered in running two cider stubes on East 4th and East 5th Streets.  (Cider stubes were taverns, patronized mostly by German Americans, that sold light food and cider made from fermented apples.)  The women were offering more than cider and sausages, as it turned out.  On April 16, 1913, the New-York Tribune reported that all three were arrested and "charged with keeping disorderly houses in cider stubes."  (A "disorderly house" was the polite term for a brothel.)

By 1924, the basement level of 29 East 7th Street had been converted to two commercial spaces.  Operating from one of them that year was George Withers Music Co.

Music Supervisors' Journal, December 1924 (copyright expired)

There are still just two apartments per floor in 29 East 7th Street.  Because Z. H. Miller wisely decided to have Hoffmann recreate his design at Nos. 25 and 27, the trio has an enhanced presence.

photographs by the author

The 1888 Edinboro - 203 West 103rd Street

 

Like the green patina'ed bands at the cornice and window pediment on 103rd, the black bays on Amsterdam Avenue were once clad in copper.  photo by Anthony Bellov

In August 1887, Edward L. Angell filed plans for a "six-story brick apartment house" at the northwest corner of 103rd Street and Tenth Avenue (renamed Amsterdam Avenue in 1890) for developer Charles A. Fuller.  Angell projected the construction costs at $65,000, or about $2.27 million in 2026.  

The neighborhood Fuller chose was known as Manhattan Valley.  On December 20, 1890, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide noted, "The first builder to erect a six-story flat in the neighborhood was Chas. A. Fuller."  Fuller dubbed his building the Edinboro.

Angell designed the structure in a blend of Queen Anne and Renaissance Revival styles.  His tripartite design was a study of mixed-media.  Faced in variegated beige brick, the Edinboro was trimmed in brownstone, sandstone, copper and terra cotta.  

On the avenue side were storefronts.  The residential entrance  at 203 West 103rd Street was uncompromisingly Renaissance Revival in style.  Sitting above a wide flight of steps, it was flanked by paneled pilasters capped with rows of anthemions.  They supported a heavy entablature elaborately carved with Renaissance inspired decorations.

The stonework has been painted and the entrance modernized with unsympathetic doors more expected in a public school building.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

The 103rd Street elevation included a panel carved with a zig-zagging ribbon and surmounted by an arched, swag-filled pediment.  At the fifth floor were quilt-like panels of Queen Anne-style terra cotta tiles, and at the sixth a shield on a leafy background announced the construction date.  A large, ogee gable that rose from the sixth floor and interrupted the cornice was outlined with copper.

The Amsterdam Avenue side was distinguished by copper-clad bays.  Those on the third floor were fronted with blind balustrades and capped with Renaissance-style triangular pediments.  Angell designed the cornice as more of a parapet composed of a regimented table of brick-stepped corbels.

The ribbon design smacked of the letter M.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

Potential residents could choose from apartments of five, seven or eight rooms with a bath.  (There was a total of 26 apartments in the building.)  Tenants could patronize the restaurant in the building and rents were offered "with or without meals."  An advertisement boasted, "hot water, gas ranges, steam heat" and "uniformed service."  (The uniformed staff would have included the elevator operator and hall boys, available for doing errands like carrying packages, delivering mail and such.)  Rents ranged from $600 to $900 per year--about $2,000 to $3,000 a month today.

Among the residents in the 1890s were civil engineer Edward P. North, who was appointed Water Purveyor for the Department of Public Works in 1895; real estate broker John W. Stevens, who purchased his first Upper West Side property in 1854; and banker and stockbroker John W. Gilbough.

John W. Gilbough, King's Views of the New York Stock Exchange, 1898 (copyright expired)

Richard Spillane and his family lived in the Edinboro as early as 1903.  An editor, he and his wife had at least one daughter.  They worshiped at St. Agnes's Chapel on West 91st Street.  Robert J. Hudson was on the staff there.  The 53-year-old was described by The Evening World as "an evangelist and Bible class leader."  

In the spring of 1903, Spillane's daughter came home from Riverside Park with a horrific tale.  Robert Hudson routinely "gathered the little children around him and read them stories from the Bible," said The Evening World.  "He would then take liberties with the tots."  

Enraged, Spillane had Hudson arrested in April on charges of "accosting girls in Riverside Park and showing them indecent sketches."  Spillane also told other parents of the crimes.  On April 3, Hudson appeared in Magistrate Crane's private quarters.  Testifying against him were Richard Spillane and two other fathers, Dr. J. H. Prentice and R. C. Stannard.  Stannard had already made up his mind about Hudson's guilt, saying that if he "ever dared to show his face in the neighborhood again he would riddle him with bullets."

Hudson insisted he, "never did anything wrong in my life."  He told the magistrate, "I play ball with the boys and pat the girls on their heads."  When Magistrate Crane asked why he had been forced to leave Spencer, Massachusetts, Hudson explained that "Some malicious persons there said I was stealing hay."

Robert J. Hudson was tried in the Court of Special Sessions on April 14.  Richard Spillane was there to testify, as were four little girls ranging from eight to 12 years old.  Spillane said in part:

His character is bad for he told me himself he was driven from Spencer, Massachusetts.  He is the enemy of every child that frequents the Drive.  He told me he wouldn't blame me if I killed him.  The women wanted to hang him to a tree.

In his defense, Hudson insisted, "the most he was guilty of was a little indiscretion."  He pointed out, "All men are subject to indiscretions."  Justice Mayer did not agree.  He sentenced Hudson to eight months in the penitentiary.

Living in the Edinboro at the time of the scurrilous trial was professional whistler Alice J. Shaw, who, with three of her daughters, shared an apartment with her aunt, Harriet Goodhue.  Born Alice J. Horton in 1853, she divorced her husband, William Holland Shaw in 1888.  (Somewhat scandalously, on May 15, 1888 The New York Sun reported, "A report is in circulation that Mrs. Alice Shaw, the whistler, is to be married to the Hon. William F. Cody, better known as Buffalo Bill...Buffalo Bill, it may be added, is married.  Mrs. Shaw is, too, but is suing for a divorce.")

Alice was a celebrity.  Following her divorce she honed her talent of whistling.  By the time she and her daughters moved into the Edinboro, she had traveled the world, had performed for the Prince of Wales, and The Times-Union described her as being "well known throughout the country."

Alice J. Shaw, The Amusement Bulletin, October 19, 1889 (copyright expired)

Alice was sued by photographer Theodore C. Marceau for $143.09 in publicity photographs.  In  court on February 8, 1903, she was asked, "What are you?"  She answered, "I am an artist--a musical artist.  I am a professional whistler."

In the spring of 1907, another entertainer, actor Willard Hutchinson, moved into the Edinboro with his wife.  While the 29-year-old thespian was appearing in Toledo, Ohio in May that year, his valise was stolen.  Among the items inside were his new lease and business card.  The next week, sans valise, Hutchinson returned to New York.  In the meantime, the thief in Ohio was using his identity to pass bad checks.  On May 11, Hutchinson was arrested and jailed in The Tombs after Toledo police had sent a telegram with his information and a photograph.

In court the next morning, Hutchinson complained, "It's pretty hard luck for a fellow to be arrested and jailed because a crook swipes his suit case."  His "hard luck" worsened when he was told he would be held until the arrival of a Toledo detective "to see if he is the man wanted," reported the New York Herald on May 12.  Five days later, The New York Times reported that he had been dismissed, saying that the "picture and description of Hutchinson were not those of the man who had committed the fraud."

The Edinboro continued to attract upper-middle-class tenants, like civil engineer John Christian Ostrup and his wife, the former Mary Forbes Whyte, who were here as early as 1910.  Born in Denmark in 1864, he was educated at the Royal Cadet School in Copenhagen, received his Civil Engineering degree at the Polytechnic School in Copenhagen, and did post-graduate work at Chicago Engineering School.  In 1907 he was hired as Professor of Structural Engineering at the Stevens Institute of Technology in Hoboken.  He was, as well, a consulting engineer with offices at 17 Battery Place.

British Engineers and Allied Professions in the Twentieth Century 1910 (copyright expired)

Henry "Harry" Anderson was born in 1869.  He married Grace Irene Ryder in the Church of the Transfiguration on April 8, 1907.  An avid yachtsman, he became a member of the New York Athletic Club's yacht division in 1902 and later a member of the Larchmont Yacht Club.  

As a representative of the importing and exporting firm Roderick & Rumsey, Anderson traveled abroad regularly.  He was in London in March 1912 on business and booked passage home on the new luxury liner RMS Titanic.  Interestingly, while Grace did not accompany him on the trip, their dog did.  Somewhat surprisingly, Anderson was rescued by the RMS Carpathia following the Titanic's sinking.  (Unfortunately, his dog was not so lucky.)

Once aboard the Carpathia, Anderson attempted to telegram Grace, saying, "Safe aboard Carpathia.  Do not worry."  The wireless operator, however, was faced with a mountain of messages  and Andersons's was one of those that was not transmitted.  

Grace Anderson died at the age of 38 on June 9, 1915.  Harry Anderson was still living in the Edinboro as late as 1919.

In 1940 the copper bays on the Amsterdam Avenue side and the distinctive ogee gable on the side street were intact.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Stockbroker John L. Burness lived here in the early Depression years.  The bachelor maintained a country home in Sea Cliff, Long Island.  On Friday, June 21, 1935, he left 203 West 103rd Street to spend the weekend at the home of William Brown at Atlantic Beach, Long Island.  The men played golf at the Lido Country Club that afternoon.

The next morning, Brown went to his office in Rockville Centre.  Burness got up and, for some reason, went into the garage.  There, according to police, he got into an argument with a maid, 20-year-old Dorothea Kassady.  Later that morning, Burness's body was discovered in the garage.  "It was said death was due to carbon monoxide fumes," reported The New York Times.

But an autopsy revealed a blunt-force injury on the back of Burness's skull.  An investigation discovered that Dorothea Kassady quarreled with the 30-year-old "over money she said he owed her."  She hit him over the head with a hammer, then turned on the ignition of the Brown's automobile and closed the garage doors to stage his murder as carbon monoxide poisoning.

photo by Anthony Bellov

In 1948, 203 West 103rd Street was renovated.  There were now 42 apartments in the building--about twice as many as there were originally.  The tenants were still middle-class.  Among the residents in 1949 was Rafael Rio, a representative of the Puerto Rican Government.  Born in 1888, he relocated to New York City as a young man.  He held memberships to the Whitehall Club, the New York Athletic Club, the Pan-American Society and the Maritime Exchange.

Panels of terra cotta, Queen Anne-style tiles decorate the fifth floor.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

In 1957, jazz saxophonist John William "Trane" Coltrane  and his wife, Naima, moved into an apartment here.  Naima (born Juanita Grubbs) was a Muslim convert and had a daughter, Antonia (later renamed Syeeda).  Coltrane later adopted her.

John William Coltrane, from the collection of the Library of Congress

Coltrane had been a part of Miles Davis's successful group, the First Great Quinet.  According to Ben Ratliff of The New York Times later, the group dissolved partly because of Coltrane's heroin addiction.  By the time he moved his family into 203 West 103rd Street, he had beaten his addiction.  In his Saxophone Colossus: The Life and Music of Sonny Rollins, Aiden Levy writes:

Coltrane invited [Freddie] Hubbard to practice with him at the apartment he shared with his wife, Naima, and his stepdaughter, Syeeda, at 203 West 103rd Street.  Coltrane was developing the "Coltrane changes" that culminated in "Giants Steps."

Hubbard later recalled, "I'd take the subway to Trane's house every day he was in town.  I had a headache when I left there because he was practicing so much."

The Coltranes left 203 West 103rd Street in 1959.  He is remembered today as one of the most influential figures in 20th century jazz music.

The top of the gable has been chopped off.  Happily, its copper outline survives.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

By the late 1970s, the striking ogee gable was decapitated.  Then, in 2017, plans were filed for "facade repair."  It was likely at this time that Edward L. Angell's distinctive copper bays were removed.  The changes greatly diluted what had been a highly unusual and attractive design.

many thanks to Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post