The Lost Second Precinct Station House - 156-158 Greenwich Street

 

The Washington Street entrance, seen above, was merely a means of accessing the actual entrance, inside the courtyard.  The Architects' and Builder's Magazine, January 1910 (copyright expired)

In 1909 the city was busy replacing four outdated police stations.  On January 26 the Commissioners of the Sinking Fund authorized the Police Department to acquire the property at Nos. 163 and 165 Washington Street and 156 to 158 Greenwich Street as the site of a replacement for the old Second Precinct station house, then located on the corner of Liberty and Church Streets. 

Associate architects Stockton B. Colt and Thornton Clard were hired to design the structure.  Faced in granite on the Greenwich Street side and red brick and stone on Washington Street, construction costs were projected at $230,000--nearly $6.5 million in today's money.  The architects devised a rather remarkable scheme.   While the Precinct would take the main address of Nos. 156-158 Greenwich Street, that entrance opened onto an interior courtyard.

The main entrance (left) sat deep within a courtyard. The Architects' and Builder's Magazine, January 1910 (copyright expired)

On August 9, 1908, as the building rose, The New York Times commented, "The idea has been to give as much privacy as possible to the muster rooms containing the Lieutenant's desk, as well as to the entrance where the patrol wagon discharges 

prisoners.  To this end the main entrance is situated in a central court accessible by a driveway from both Greenwich and Washington Streets."

The concept not only ensured privacy, but security.  At a time when anarchists and extreme labor groups resorted to violence and bombings, the heavy iron gates on the exterior driveway entrances could be closed "in case of riot or at any time to prevent curious persons from entering the court," explained the article.  Access was further restricted by including a separate "reporters entrance."

On the first floor were the muster room, a reading or recreation room for the officers and the stables.  Architecture & Building noted that the stables "are also prepared for the storage and care of automobiles."  With its own entrance inside the courtyard was the morgue room, "with special arrangement for sanitation and ventilation."

The Lieutenant's Desk and Muster Room were outfitted with both gas and electric lighting.  The Architects' and Builder's Magazine, January 1910 (copyright expired)

On the Washington Street end of the building were the cells, three tiers in height.  The New York Times called them "of the most modern type, with interlocking tool-proof bars."  There were 30 cells for men and 15 for women.

The upper floors held twelve sleeping quarters for officers and nine dormitories that could accommodate 160 patrolmen.  Detectives had their own dormitory.  They were outfitted with modern amenities like "ample lavatories and showers," and "dryer rooms for wet garments and boots."  The threat of violence reached even the topmost level.  The New York Times said "On the roof is a deck house which may be used ordinarily for a gymnasium, and in time of riot for a kitchen and mess hall."

A grainy sketch of the more impressive Greenwich Street elevation appeared in The New York Times on August 9, 1908 (copyright expired)

Architecture & Building called the structure "a dignified, substantial structure, of Italian Renaissance design."  It applauded the architects' placing the entrance inside the courtyard, saying "All the present undesirable excitement and interference attendant on the arrival of a patrol wagon at the door of the old-type of police station, with its muster-room entrance and windows on the street, is done away with."

The Brickbuilder, June 1911 (copyright expired)

As World War I erupted in Europe, the New York City Police Department responded.  On January 11, 1916 the Times Union reported "The annual installation of officers of Gen. George B. McClellan, Garrison, Army and Navy Union, composed entirely of New York policemen, occurred last evening at 156 Greenwich Street, Manhattan."

Another reaction was the establishment of the first NYPD Aviation School in the Second Precinct building in 1917.  It was a success and on December 5, 1919 The Evening World reported, "When the school was started two years ago, said Inspector [John F. ] Dwyer, there were only two instructors and six cadets.  Now there are 119 officers, cadets and instructors."  The classes were held from 8 to 10 p.m.  "The pupils are instructed in ground work and the mechanism of airplanes," explained the article.

Students are instructed on the workings of the Curtiss bi-plan.  The Sun, February 23, 1919 (copyright expired)

The end of the war brought another innovation to the police force.  On August 7, 1919 the Daily News reported on a "new school for 'coppers'" saying "Many young men, some of them out of the military service, are enrolling in the night school of the police reserves, at 156 Greenwich street, where they are taught many things of value to keeping the peace."  The organization was the predecessor of today's NYPD Auxiliary Force.

The policemen's dormitories had "ventilated lockers" and state of the restrooms and shower facilities.  The Architects' and Builder's Magazine, January 1910 (copyright expired)

Rather amazingly, on October 23, 1919 the New-York Tribune reported, "at the offices of the Police Reserves it was announced yesterday that young women recruits between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five are wanted for the Aviation Corps School, at 156 Greenwich Street.  There are at present 110 young men attending the school."  The women had to pass physical and mental examinations and were required to purchase their own books and uniforms.  "When trained they will form a women's aviation corps attached to the women's police reserves," said the article.

The school had received two Curtiss airplanes from the War Department in June that year.  The Sun reported "They will be installed in a steel hangar, also donated by the War Department, at 126th street and the North River."

Yet another innovation to the police force was initiated in the Second Precinct building in 1921 with the formation of the volunteer school crossing guards.  On November 28 the New York Herald reported "The children of New York are to have a new experience to-day when one thousand policewomen take over from the regular force the task of guarding them over street crossings near all the schools."  The uniformed women relieved police officers who were "overburdened with work since twenty-five hundred men were assigned to milk strike duty," said the article.

It was arguably a win for women's rights.  Inspector Dwyer told the group on their first day of duty:

The country will watch your success or failure.  A great responsibility rests upon you--that of proving that woman can do a type of work that heretofore has been considered exclusively as belonging to man.

The Police Reserves received the latest in technical training.  On November 22, 1923, for instance, The Sun reported, "Inspector-General Charles H. McKinney of the Police Reserves announced last night that 120 reserves have formed a class to study radio in their headquarters at 156 Greenwich street, to provide the Police Department with a wireless telegraph and telephone system."

The modern prison cells were deemed "tool proof."  The Architects' and Builder's Magazine, January 1910 (copyright expired)

Not everything went smoothly within the Police Reserves, however.  In 1922 infighting that broke out with the women's reserves demanded the attention of Major Mary Ferral.  On January 31, 1923 the Times Union ran the headline "Peace Is Restored" and began its article saying "Amiable relations have been restored among the different sections of the Ladies Police Reserves...at an entertainment given last evening at 156 Greenwich street for the members of Manhattan and the Bronx."  Things had become so toxic that Major Ferral was presented "a cut glass bowl...as a token of appreciation of her successful efforts in bringing the groups together for a pleasant social hour."

By the Depression years the offices of the Deputy Police Commissioner were in the building and the Police Division of Licenses, which oversaw the issuing of cabaret and hack licenses, for instance, was here by the early 1940's.

The Second Precinct stationhouse, which was not only innovative in its design and layout, but changed the face of New York policing in several respects, was demolished in 1962 to make way for the World Trade Center complex.

The Wm. Walton Rutherfurd House - 14 East 74th Street

On September 14, 1873 the new brownstone house at No. 14 East 74th Street was offered for sale by real estate agent V. K. Stevenson, Jr.  The 22-foot wide house was one of a string of seven erected by developer James A. Coburn.  Four stories tall above an English basement, the Italianate house featured the expected high stoop of the style.

By the 1890's the house was home to James Hervey Sanford and his wife, the former Lucy Sistare.  Born in New Haven, Connecticut  on December 17, 1812, Sanford had graduated from Yale Law School in 1834.  He practiced law just one year before becoming a part-owner and editor of the Journal of Commerce in New York City.  But in 1857 he left after his views of slavery clashed with the newspaper's.

He married Lucy, daughter of banker George K. Sistare, on September 8, 1859.   The couple had one daughter.  Sanford had purchased the Buffalo Courier upon leaving the Journal of Commerce, but he sold it in 1862 and the couple returned to New York.   Sanford settled into retirement, living quietly with his wife and daughter and traveling extensively in Europe with them.

James Hervey Sanford contracted a serious case of influenza in December 1898.  He died on the day after Christmas at the age of 86.   Interestingly, there was no funeral.  The New York Times reported only that "There was no service over the remains, and the interment was private."

Two months later, on February 22, 1899 the New York Journal reported that Lucy Sanford had sold "the four-story, high-stoop private dwelling."  Both parties kept the price paid quiet, the article noting the sale was made "on private terms."

The buyer was the Rev. William Walton Rutherfurd and his wife, the former Anna Jackson.  The New York Times later mentioned "The Rutherfurds, who originally came from New Jersey, where the family owns much land, were prominent even in Colonial Days."  Rutherfurd had been ordained a priest of the Episcopal Church on June 16, 1889 and was now connected with Trinity Church on Wall Street.  His religious duties did not interfere with the couple's upscale lifestyle.

The Rutherfords did not immediately move into the 74th Street brownstone.  Instead, on July 27 the New-York Tribune reported that they had boarded the steamship Barbarossa for Europe.  The timing of the trip made perfect sense since the Rutherfurds had commissioned architect Stockton B. Colt to completely make over their new home.

In 1900 they moved into an unrecognizable residence.  Colt had removed the stoop and stripped off the brownstone cladding.  The new American basement plan placed the entrance in the center of the stone base.  Two sets of French doors opened onto a wide French balcony at the second floor, or piano nobile.   French turned to neo-Georgian on the upper floors, faced in variegated yellow Roman brick.  Bold splayed limestone lintels decorated the openings of the second and third floors.

A decorative terra cotta bandcourse introduced the understated fourth floor, ornamented only by recessed panels.  A bracketed stone cornice upheld the slate-tiled mansard roof, embellished with copper-clad dormers and prominent stone chimneys.

William officiated at the wedding of his equally wealthy brother, stock broker John Alexander Rutherfurd, and Cora Baker Davis on May 7, 1905.  It was one of the few times newspapers mentioned Rev. Rutherfurd's name in connection with a religious service.  Instead, society columns followed the couple's movements from one fashionable watering hole to the next.

On September 19, 1902, for instance, The New York Times had announced "The Rev. and Mrs. William Walton Rutherfurd are at Hot Springs of Virginia," and in reporting on the social events at Lenox on July 25, 1908, the New-York Tribune noted "There has been much bridge whist this week.  Mrs. William Walton Rutherfurd was hostess at a large entertainment this week in the Curtis Hotel."  The same week The New York Times reported that the Rutherfurds "will open their cottage at Bar Harbor to-day.  They have been recently visiting at Lenox."

But the whirlwind of resorts and bridge parties was about to come to an end.  On January 29, 1909 Anna died of pneumonia in the 74th Street house.  Her funeral was held at Trinity Church on February 1.

William remained briefly at No. 14.  Later that year in December he gave a dinner at the Metropolitan Club for Miss Estelle Crosby.  The wife of another wealthy and socially-visible Episcopal priest, Alfred Duane Pell, "chaperoned the young people," according to The Times. 

He soon leased the house and moved permanently to England.  On August 26, 1919 The Sun reported "The Rev. William Walton Rutherfurd, who has been in this country for several weeks the guest of his brother, John A. Rutherfurd, will return this week to England."  It may have been that visit that convinced him to finally sell No. 14.

Title was transferred to Townsend Hornor in January 1920.  A prominent real estate operator, his name (which newspapers routinely misspelled Horner) appeared in sports pages as a golfer, fisherman, and yachtsman.  His wife, whom he married in 1909, was the former Belva Dula, daughter of Robert R. Dula, a vice-president of the American Tobacco Co.

The Hornors maintained two country homes, Rocklee in Rye, New York, and another in Greenwich, Connecticut.  They also used the Dula estate, Inglenook, in Tarrytown on the scenic Hudson River. 

Not long after moving in Belva was looking for a new cook.  Her advertisement in The New York Herald on March 16, 1921 read "Cook, $65; two in family; best references required."  Cooks were routinely the highest paid among domestic staffs.  The wages offered would be about $890 today.

John began suffering heart trouble in 1923.  After having two cardiac operations he was taken to the Connecticut residence to recuperate.  He died there on August 4 at the age of 44.

Within two years Belva had remarried.  In 1925 Belva was listed in social registers as Countess Belva-Dula Pieri.  She sold No. 14 East 74th Street to James Gardner Shepherd and his new wife, the former Celia B. Rine.    Shephard and Celia had been married that year, shortly after his divorce from his wife, Myrtle.

Shepherd had retired from the mining and banking businesses about a decade earlier.  He focused greatly now on his art collection, filling the 74th Street house with notable works.  The New York Times later remarked "In the art gallery in his home Mr. Sheperd had one of the world's finest Corot collections and a large collection of Barye bronzes."  Other artists represented in the collection were John Singer Sargent, Narcisse Virgilio Diaz, and Albert Ryder.

Jean-Francois Millet's 1875 "The Woodchopper" was among Shepherd's collection.  Art Institute of Chicago

Perhaps more than any previous owners, the Shepherds entertained often.  On December 8, 1926, for instance, The New York Times reported that the couple "gave a dinner followed by a musical program last night at their home."   Operatic singers Harriet Maconel and Eleanor Rogers were accompanied by harpist Mario de Stephano.  The Shepherds took advantage of the pipe organ installed by the Rutherfurds by having Dr. Harry Rowe Shelly play.

Nevertheless, the house was quite often closed as the Shepherds traveled.  On February 8, 1928 they left in their private railroad car, the Newport, for Palm Beach.  They were back in March, but almost immediately left for Europe.  They returned on the steamship Berengaria in June, and then headed to "their country home, Paradise Camp, Grace Pond, Jackman, Maine," on June 27th as reported by The Times.

Back in town for the winter season, the Shepherds hosted a dinner on November 15, 1928.  The New York Times listed among the guests Prince and Princess Nicolas Kara-Georgevitch.

Socialites were expected to dress the part, even during the Depression years.  In 1931 Celia agreed to a cost-savings ploy that landed her in hot water and made her the focus of humiliating publicity.  Her Paris dressmaker suggested that an employee, Lotti Leroy, accompany the Shepherds to New York with Celia's new gowns packed in Lotti's trunks.  Because Lotti was French, said the couturier, Customs officials would assume they were her own apparel, and were not being imported.  It did not work.

On July 1 Celia returned to New York on the Leviathan.  Lotti Leroy was also on the passenger list.  Lotti informed the Customs officials that she was a French resident and the gowns were hers.  But they were not fooled.

"It was evident that the exclusive Paris models were not made for her and upon further questioning she admitted that they were for Mrs. Shepherd, who was fined $8,000," reported The New York Times on July 26.  But Celia's embarrassment did not end there.  Treasury agents began looking closer to earlier Customs documents from voyages on which the Shepherds were passengers.

They discovered "that several other costly Paris evening dresses had been brought over and delivered to Mrs. Shepherd free of duty by the salaried agent of the French dressmakers," said the article.  "Further duties and penalties amounting to $22,000 were levied and Mrs. Shepherd was permitted to keep the gowns after she had paid the total of $30,000."  The significant amount would be equal to about $483,000 today.

On March 18, 1935, about eight months after he was stricken with chronic nephritis (a kidney condition), James Gardner Shepherd died in the 74th Street house at the age of 67. 

Celia sold the "five-story residence with elevator and garden," to Willam A. Garrigues.  The son of William A. and Lillie Maxwell Garrigues, he had graduated from Princeton in 1919 and was a partner in Levering & Garrigues, iron manufacturers.  He remained until February 1946 when he sold it "for occupancy."

But the buyers, Fourteen East Seventy-Fourth Corporation, had other things in mind.  A conversion to apartments was begun in 1950.  Completed the following year, it resulted in furnished rooms throughout and one apartment on the third floor.  The entrance was converted to a window and the doorway moved to the side. 

When the house was sold in March 1953, The New York Times noted that the buyer "will occupy one of the apartments after minor alterations."  The alterations were not that minor.  There was now one apartment per floor within the building.

It was not uncommon for converted mansions in the neighborhood to house upscale art galleries and in 1963 the Reyn Gallery operated from No. 14.  Owner Alfred Reyn lived in the building, as well.  In the fall that year he staged a showing of artist Jef Banc's "oils, washes, and collages."  But as it turned out the Federal Government was interested in Reyn not for his paintings, but for other activities.

The Reyn Gallery was a front for Alfred's gambling operation.  He was arrested on July 6, 1964 in a novel scheme by United States Attorney Robert M. Morgenthau.   The 57-year old was not charged with illegal gambling, but with failing to pay taxes on the alleged $1 million he had grossed in the past few years on wagers, and with filing untrue tax returns.

There are still just five apartments, one per floor, in the building.  And other than the disappointing loss of the entrance and the unsympathetic treatment of the French doors above, outwardly the house is little changed since the Rutherfords' remarkable makeover in 1900.

photographs by the author