The Lost "Bruno's Garrett" - 58 Washington Square So.

A row of altered mansions, once similar to those on the north side of the park, contrast to the humble, frame building on the corner.  from the New-York Historical Society, Robert L. Bracklow Photograph Collection

In 1790, New York City purchased seven acres of land to be used as an execution ground and potter's field well north of the established city.  The property, which would later be named Washington Square, was increased by seven acres in 1797.

According to city directories, Daniel Megie, an early Irish immigrant, held the title of "keeper" of the potter's field starting in 1819.  The position would include the less impressive duty of grave digger.  That same year, as documented in the records of the Title Guarantee & Trust Company, Megie purchased a 21 by 80 foot plot at the southeast corner of what would become Thompson Street and Washington Square South from John Ireland.  (Ireland, a well-do-to merchant, owned significant property south of the potter's field.)  Megie paid $500 for the parcel (about $12,700 in 2025 terms).  

Daniel Megie erected a two-story frame building on the plot.  The no-nonsense, vernacular-style structure was clad in wide clapboards and capped by a modest cornice.  Its six-over-six windows were typical of the period.  The lonely building was the only structure along the field.

The last of the executions in the cemetery took place on July 8, 1819.  The Evening Post reported that “Rose, a black girl who had been sentenced for setting fire to a dwelling…was executed yesterday at 2 o’clock near Potter’s Field.”  It would be the last of the hangings.  (Whether the executions were part of Daniel Megie's job description is unclear.)  

In 1821, Megie sold his corner property to Joseph Dean for $850.  It was the last year that Megie was listed as keeper of Potter's Field.  The next year, a devastating 1822 yellow fever epidemic struck New York City.  Trenches were excavated and wooden coffins piled three or more deep--swelling the number of dead to an estimated 10,000 to 20,000.

Mayor Philip Hone instructed that the cemetery be renovated to a military parade ground called Washington Square in 1826.  Four years later, George P. Rogers began construction of the first of the elegant mansions that would ring the park: 20 Washington Square North.  Within a decade, Washington Square was one of the three most elegant residential enclaves in New York City.  And sitting among the opulent Greek Revival-style mansions was the little wooden building at 58 Washington Square South.

The increasing property values on the square was reflected in John de Ruyter's purchasing the wooden building in 1867 for $14,650--about $330,000 today.  He leased it to John Connelly who assuredly raised the ire of his patrician neighbors.  On July 21, 1871, The Sun reported that he had received a permit to "place a watering trough in front of number 58 South Washington square."  His purpose of having a horse trough was, perhaps, to attract cab drivers and draymen into Connelly's saloon.

It seems that the first publicity around the saloon came on April 24, 1876, an incident that The Sun described as "one more Temperance lecture."  Adolphe Lemoyne, Jr. was the son of a well-heeled merchant.  The newspaper said that he, "was a handsome fellow a few years ago, but dissipation told heavily upon him.  He chose to be an outcast."  The young alcoholic pawned everything he owned to support his habit and on that afternoon, he pawned "two pairs of pantaloons" in a Sixth Avenue shop for $2.  The 35-year-old went directly to Connelly's saloon.  He sat at a table and said he felt ill.  He asked for a glass of water and, after drinking it, "fell backward from his chair and expired."

A disturbing incident took place on September 28, 1888.  John Entwistle came to New York City from upstate that morning, "and started out to see the sights of Gotham," as reported by The Evening World.  He made friends with a woman named Ella Johnson and they went from saloon to saloon, "among them was one at 58 South Washington Square, where Entwistle treated everybody."  Suddenly, "so crazy with drink," according to the article, Entwistle blurted, "I might as well kill myself."  He took out a knife and jabbed it twice into his chest.

Entwistle was arrested (attempted suicide was a jailable offense at the time) as were "his female companions, three other girls, and two men."

At the time, the saloon was operated by John F. Doyle, who was described by The World as a "divekeeper."  Entwistle's suicide attempt paled to the scandalous activities that were going on.  Captain John J. Brogan of the 15th Precinct station investigated the saloon on March 7, 1889 "after complaints by President Z. Stiles Ely, of the Wetmore Home, and by all the other inhabitants and property owners of Washington square," according to The World.  His report was shocking, saying in part,

Found the place nasty, vile; about ten women in place; we treated six; found eight in room about eight by ten, in rear of saloon; bartender named Foster encouraged women to drink, calling them by name, etc.; conversation very vile; bartender well built; light-complexioned, good looking light moustached man; was busy at 1 A.M. measuring three of these women's limbs, thighs and private parts.

John F. Doyle's excise license (i.e., liquor license) was revoked on March 28, 1889.  After being closed "for a little while," according to Capt. Brogan, the operation of the saloon was taken over by Michael Ward, one of Doyle's former bartenders.  In May 1890, Brogan testified to a State Senate committee, "It is running as usual."  The Evening World reported the testimonies before the Fassett Committee a year later, on May 28, 1890.  It told of five excise inspectors who, "were able to tell such a disgusting tale of vile performances in their report that it was too dirty for publication in the newspapers."

Surprisingly, especially given the fact that Michael Ward's dive sat among the mansions of some of Manhattan's wealthiest and most powerful citizens, a year later it was still in operation.  On November 27, 1891, The Evening World reported that Ward was summoned to the Excise Board's president "to show cause why his license should not be revoked."

Michael Ward's license was revoked.  The saloon was cleaned up, at least moderately, by a Tammany Hall favorite Francis A. Stevenson, who moved his family into the upper floor.  Stevenson, known as Frank, was a boxing referee and fight manager.  He ran several dance halls and dives, the most notorious being the Black & Tan at 153 Bleecker Street.  Shockingly in the 1890s, he catered to all races.  Police Superintendent George Walling wrote of the Black & Tan, "It is the resort of black men as well as white, but the girls are all white!"  He called it, "revolting."

On May 7, 1906, The Sun reported that Stevenson had been injured in a car accident.  Five months later, on October 2, The New York Times reported, "Francis A. Stevenson, a member of Tammany Hall, and a friend of Richard Croker, died on Saturday night at his home, 58 Washington Square South.  His death was hastened by an automobile accident."  The article did not mention the 59-year-old's saloons.

Stevenson's death signaled the end of a saloon in the little wooden building.  It was converted to the Arch Cafe, which was sold in February 1912 to Jess Albrozza and Joe Cavagnara.  They opened the Oasis in Greenwich Village, an ice cream parlor.

On March 2, 1913, The New York Times posed a question that must have been on the minds of locals for decades.  "It is a singular fact, and one that the old real estate records do not explain, that this immediate corner was never fully improved."  The article said it and the adjoining wooden buildings on West 3rd Street, "present a decidedly incongruous appearance by the side of the fine old houses adjoining."

An interesting chapter of the venerable building started on May 10, 1915.  The New-York Tribune reported that Bruno's Garrett had opened the previous day.  "The works of the artists of Greenwich Village will be on exhibition continuously," said the article.  Guido Bruno opened his upstairs "Garret" with an exhibition of 250 drawings by Clara Tice.  He told the newspaper, "no admission fee is charged and there is no expectation of sales.  The Garrett is just to acquaint New Yorkers with their own artists in the Latin Quarter of America--Greenwich Village."  

Guido Bruno was born Kurt Josef Kisch in Prague in 1884.  He immigrated to America in December 1906 and moved to New York City in 1913, when he legally changed his name.  From a rear space he published the monthly Bruno's Chap Books, Bruno's Weekly, Bruno's Monthly, Greenwich Village  (with Charles Edison, son of the inventor), and the book Bruno's Bohemia.

from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In his June 23, 1915 issue of Greenwich Village, Bruno announced a poetry reading "every Saturday afternoon at 3 o'clock."  He described them as "interesting gatherings in Bruno's Garret which is situated at 58 Washington Square" and cautioned, "It is informal and no admission fee is charged.  But please drop me a line so I can reserve a seat for you."

In reporting on a second exhibition of Clara Tice drawings on April 11, 1915, The New York Times described Guido Bruno as, "an Americanized Serb with an Italian name, who was been a war correspondent in Turkey and a reporter in Chicago, and is at present a translator, publisher and research expert in the history of Greenwich Village."  The article described the century-old structure as, 

...the most forlorn-looking two-story frame building that can be found in New York.  On the ground floor is an Italian soda fountain and candy and cigar store; above are the rooms where the Bruno Chap Books and the semi-monthly magazine, Greenwich Village, are published; and the big front exhibition room with a view, across the fountain and under the Washington Arch, of the lower reaches of the avenue.

 from the New-York Historical Society, Robert L. Bracklow Photograph Collection

On February 13, 1916, the New-York Tribune began an article saying, "Bruno's Garret is a mass of charred and shattered glass ruins."  Bruno had arrived to work that morning to prepare for an exhibition about Abraham Lincoln.  A fire had started in the abutting East 3rd Street structure "presumably from an open grate," according to The New York Times, and spread into the second floor of 58 Washington Square South.

The article said, "Abraham Lincoln, in painting, and his mother, Nancy Hanks, alone remain unscathed in the room."  The Fourth Estate noted that Bruno's Garret "has an international reputation," and said, "Mr. Bruno's greatest loss was the destruction of many unpublished manuscripts, including one by Bernard Shaw."  The New-York Tribune recounted, "the quaint, small wooden building that holds the Garret has a strange history.  When Washington Square was the potter's field, the little building was the tool house of the grave digger.  Later it was a tavern, where upstate coaches paused for mail and a drink."  The newspaper said, "Mr. Bruno declared that he will repair the Garret at once."

Bruno did restore the damage (the Oasis of Greenwich Village was apparently little hurt) and reimagined it as The Garret Shop, a bookstore.  His operation would be short-lived, however.

from the collection of the New York Public Library

According to historian Rose Durand, shortly after opening the store, a customer entered and asked for Edna: The Girl of the Street by Alfred Kreymborg.  The "customer" was, in fact, an agent of the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice.  The novel detailed the challenges of a woman driven to prostitution.  Bruno was arrested for a violation of the Comstock Law.

On September 29, 1917, The Sun reported that the second floor of 58 Washington Square, "formerly known as Bruno's Garret, [was rented] to Miss Grace Godwin for use as a tea shop."  After renovations, Grace opened her "Grace Godwin's Garret" which she advertised as "a cheerful place for good coffee."

The ground floor was now Rossi Brothers Confectioners and Grace Godwin's signage (much less dramatic than Bruno's) was displayed on the second floor.  The woman sitting in the window may be Grace.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

The Oasis of Greenwich Village, by now, was owned by the Rossi Brothers.  According to Emily Kies Folpe in her It Happened on Washington Square, the store "offered ice cream, cigars, and cigarettes and was notorious for its willingness to sell tobacco products to women."

The Quill, December 1918 (copyright expired)

Grace Godwin's cafe took the ambience of Greenwich Village's subterranean tearooms to her second floor.  In his 1993 book Greenwich Village: Culture and Counterculture, Jan Seidler Ramirez writes that her patrons "could observe aspiring local painters scratching graffiti on the restaurant's walls, or rub elbows with impoverished poets and budding Bolsheviks."

 

The Quill, February 1, 1918 (copyright expired)

By 1922, Walter Meyer had taken over what was now called The Garret.  A cleverly worded advertisement in The Quill in April 1922 touted, "Execrable food and unspeakable coffee at exorbitant prices.  Seating accomodation [sic], cramped and suffocating.  No attractions whatever--And still they come!!!  Was Barnum right?"

When The Sunday Constitution Magazine listed among the "few places of repute in Greenwich Village" on March 4, 1923, "The Garret at 58 Washington Square," was included.  At the time, however, the end of the line for the 114-year-old building was near.  Five months earlier, on October 22, 1922, the New York Herald reported that the Anglesea Realty Company had purchased it and the abutting house at 60 Washington Square South, along several other Greenwich Village properties.

They survived until August 1927, when they were demolished for a 15-story apartment building that never came to pass.  Instead, the vacant lot sat behind a tall wooden fence, which was used for outdoor art shows.

Percy Loomis Sperr photographed an art show on May 23, 1935.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Today the six-story Center for Academic and Spiritual Life, designed by Eggers & Higgins in 1961, occupies the site.

The 1833 James Tallmadge, Jr. House - 5 Washington Square North

 

Between 1790 and 1797 the City purchased 13-acres of land near Greenwich Village as the site of a burying ground and execution site.  The land on the north side of the Square between Fifth Avenue and University Place was part of Captain Robert Richard Randall's 24-acre summer estate.  Upon his death in 1801, he donated that land for the formation of an "Asylum or Marine Hospital to be called the Sailors' Snug Harbor."  The organization was formed; however Randall's family established the hospital and grounds on Staten Island, instead.  The institution wisely retained ownership of the Washington Square land.

In 1831 three prominent businessmen, John Johnston, John Morrison and James Boorman embraced the potential of the Square and planned a row of high-end speculative residences.  To do so, they leased the plots from Sailors' Snug Harbor.  Completed in 1833, the nearly matching mansions were faced in brick and trimmed in marble.  Designed in the rising Greek Revival style, they exuded refinement, wealth and taste.

from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Attorney and politician James Tallmadge, Jr. had taken over the leasehold of 5 Washington Square North in 1831, when the project first began.  Born in 1778, his father, Colonel James Tallmadge, had distinguished himself during the Revolutionary War.  James, Jr. served in the War of 1812.  He was elected to the United States House of Representatives in 1817, and was Lieutenant Governor from 1825 to '26.  Tallmadge moved into the new 27-foot-wide home with his daughter, Mary Rebecca.  His wife and second cousin, Laura Tallmadge, had died in 1824.  Although the couple had had six children, only Mary Rebecca survived.

Tallmadge was instrumental in the formation of New York University and, quite likely, had much to do with its location on Washington Square diagonally from his home.  Luther S. Harris, in his 2003 Around Washington Square, mentions that along with John Johnston, "the other pillar of strength from the Row, General James Tallmadge was [Chancellor John M.] Matthews's most staunch supporter and defender.  Tallmadge, one of the leadership Whigs, had assisted Matthews in organizing the university as was its council president from 1834 to 1846."

James Tallmadge, Jr. from the collection of the New York Public Library

He was, as well, a founding member and president of the American Institute.   He traveled to Europe in that capacity in 1835.  The New York Times reported that he "was received with distinction.  Among the dignitaries by whom he was particularly noticed was the Emperor Nicholas.  The Semi-Weekly Tribune added:

He was received with marked favor at the Court of Russia.  He exerted his influence with the Emperor, with whom he spent a considerable part of his time while there, in introducing American machinery into Russia, and effecting a benefit to his countrymen by procuring a modification of the Russian quarantine laws.

Tallmadge had taken his daughter, Mary Rebecca (described by one newspaper as "a noted beauty") to Europe with him.   They returned to England in 1838 where Mary was received in the court of the newly coronated Queen Victoria.  The Osage Mission Journal reported, "She was presented to, and became a favorite of the Queen, who said one morning in breakfast that she would give her dominions for Miss Talmadge's [sic] beauty."

Although that newspaper mentioned that "several opulent and titled persons sought her hand in vain; she was thoroughly American."  Upon their return to Washington Square, romance bloomed.  Another member of the council of the university was Philip Schuyler Van Rensselaer, the son of General Stephen Van Rensselaer and Cornelia Paterson.  On October 17, 1839, he married the 27-year-old Mary Rebecca Tallmadge.  As a wedding present, James Tallmadge presented Mary with the Tallmadge country estate in Dutchess County.  The newlyweds moved into 5 Washington Square North.

In 1853 the family remained at the country estate past the end of the summer season.  James traveled to the city on business, however, accompanied by James.  The American Institute was preparing plans for the annual fair at Castle Garden, and on September 29 they toured the Crystal Palace.   Philip was the proprietor of the exclusive Metropolitan Hotel, and so rather than open the Washington Square house for a few days, the men stayed at there.

James Tallmadge had previously suffered two strokes--called apoplexy at the time.  After visiting the Crystal Palace, he returned to the hotel at around 3:00 and climbed the four flights of stairs to his room.  The Semi-Weekly Tribune reported, "Feeling an attack of apoplexy coming upon him, he had time only to ring the bell, when he fell to the floor.  The servant upon entering the room in a moment after, found him in a dying condition."  Tallmadge's funeral was held in Grace Church on October 1.

As had been the case with James and Laura Tallmadge, the Van Rensselaers would suffer repeated heartbreak.  Their first child, a daughter, died in childbirth in 1840.  Clinton Franklin, who was born in 1846, died at the age of five; and Franklin died in 1852, just a year after he was born in 1852.  

Their three other children, James Tallmadge, Cornelia Patterson, and Philip Stephen, traveled with their parents to Europe for the winter season of 1857-58.  Tragically, Cornelia contracted what The New York Times described as "nervous typhoid fever" and died in Dresden, Germany on December 30, 1857 at the age of 15.

On June 3, 1871, The Philadelphia Inquirer printed a one line article that read, "Philip S. Van Rensselaer, a prominent and wealthy citizen, died suddenly last evening of apoplexy, in his 65th year."  The following year, on August 3, 1872, Mary died in Albany, New York at the age of 56.  

In October 1894 Robert W. DeForest purchased the leasehold of 5 Washington Square.  The price, $14,500, would equal about $450,000 in today's money.  But if he lived in the house at all, it was a short-lived tenancy.   By the fall of 1896 it was the home of widowed attorney Charles Winthrop Gould, a close friend of DeForest.

Born in 1849, the son of banker and railroad mogul Charles Gould, he had founded the legal firm of Gould & Wilkie in 1892.  Charles's wife, the former Louisa Adele Dickerson, had died in 1883 at the age of 27, just two years after their wedding.

In the summer of 1898, as tensions between Cuba and Spain worsened, President William McKinley called upon Gould.  On August 20, the New-York Tribune reported that he been appointed "to arrange and superintend the evacuation of the island of Cuba."  The newspaper noted, "The appointment is thoroughly non-political, as Mr. Gould has never taken any active part in politics."

In 1899 Charles hired Louis Comfort Tiffany to redecorate the dining room.  On September 28, The Evening Telegram wrote, "One of our rich bachelors is Mr. Charles W. Gould--not of the family of the late Jay Gould, but rich, nevertheless.  Mr. Gould has a lovely house, No. 5 Washington Square North.  The article described the remodeling:

His dining room is entirely finished off in Tiffany glass--called Favril--a beautiful iridescent glass invented by Mr. Louis Tiffany.  The ceiling is of this glass, laid out in patterns; the side walls and chandeliers are of the same, and the electric lights have globes of it, which, as they are grouped, give the effect of brilliant flowers.  The entire dinner set, tumblers, wine glasses, finger bowls are all of Favril, and when Mr. Gould gives one of his charming dinners the effect is brilliant in the extreme.

An avid art collector, Charles became a trustee of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1915.  That year he became a trustee of the Cooper Union and the secretary of the Society for4 the Relief of Cuban Orphans, which he helped organize, as well. 

Following his retirement from his law practice, he took up the study of biology, intelligence tests, and racial characteristics.   Gould was presumably already a racist, but his studies now resulted in his advocating for the "maintenance of racial purity in America and the inherent supremacy of the Nordic race"--in short, white supremacy.  In 1920, he published America: A Family Matter, described by The New York Times as "a study of racial problems in the United States that emphasized the important of Nordic supremacy."  

On August 4, 1929, The New York Times reported that Gould had retired from the Board of Trustees of Cooper Union "at the age of 80 years because of ill health."  The article listed his achievements in connection with the institution.  Unfortunately for him, his long list of positive accomplishments would be forever tainted by his racist book.  

Gould maintained a residence in Santa Barbara, California.  He was there on March 18, 1931 when he died.  The executor of his estate surrendered the ground lease on 5 Washington Square North to Sailors' Snug Harbor in May 1936.  

Within the year the house became home to Dr. Paul Luttinger.  The physician was highly involved in the Communist Party and wrote a regular column in the Communist newspaper The Daily Worker.   A notice in the Socialist Appeal on October 9, 1937 read, "A Gala studio party sponsored by the Village Branch and intended to startle the entire city will occur this Saturday--Oct. 9th--at the home of Dr. Luttinger, 5 Washington Sq. North.  A good time assured."

The house in 1941.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Dr. Luttinger's residency was short.  On July 1, 1940 The New York Times reported (somewhat appropriately, given the home's first owner) that New York University had leased the property as the home of Chancellor Harry Woodburn Chase.  "Alterations are to begin at once," said the article.

Called the William R. Salomon House today, New York University's offices of the faculty of Arts and Science are housed here.  

photographs by the author

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The Lost University Building - Washington Square East and Waverly Place

from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In February 1830 a group of esteemed New Yorkers including Morgan Lewis, John Delafield and Myndert Van Schaick, proposed the organization of a university, "the great object" of which, according to the New York Spectator, "shall be to extend the benefits of education in greater abundance and variety, and at a cheaper rate, than at present they are enjoyed."  The Sun later remarked that it was intended "to far overshadow Harvard, Yale, and Princeton."  The University of the City of New York was founded that fall and incorporated by an act of the state legislature in April 1831.

Classes were temporarily held in Clinton Hall at Beekman and Nassau Streets.  The building committee appointed to plan for a permanent home for the school selected the eminent architectural firm of Town and Davis to design the structure.  The Sun said it was meant to be "the most splendid building in New York."

George Rogers had began construction of the first mansion on Washington Square in 1828 and within the next few years other elegant homes were rising along its borders.  The University of the City of New York acquired the southeast corner of Washington Square East and Waverly Place as the site for its home.  According to Julia M. Truettner in her 2003 Aspirations for Excellence Alexander Jackson Davis submitted the first design in the classic revival style.  "This design, however, was rejected by the university in favor of one of the newly emerging Gothic Revival style."

Construction began in the summer of 1833.  Marble quarried at Sing Sing, New York created a gleaming white presence amid the red brick mansions.  Completed in 1836 it featured a castellated roof line, turrets and corner towers.  A three-story Gothic window flooded the chapel, which doubled as the lecture room, with natural light.

A column of a portico of one of the Washington Square North mansions was included in this 1850 print.  To the right are the towers of the 1840 Reformed Dutch Church.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The northern portion of the University Building contained housing for students.  They could expect a no-frills existence.  Decades later, in 1887, the New-York Tribune explained "The rooms...were fair for those days.  All of them had thick walls and high ceilings, with broad windows encrusted in heavy stone sills and cornices.  There was no running water, it is true, and steam-heaters and hot-air registers were alike unknown.  The rooms were warmed partly by the sun, partly by open grate fires or stoves.  Coal and gas were extras of course.  So was all but the minimum of service."

The New Yorkers gave the institution the popular name of New York University.  The expansive lecture room of its marble building was used not only for class instruction, but for public lectures.  On January 30, 1836, for example, The Herald reported:

Professor Bush last evening at the New York University, explained the Egyptian Hieroglyphics.  He read distinctly the inscription on the Rosetta stone, and explained every character on the Pyramids.  What prodigious learning!

Dr. Sleigh gave a weekly lecture on Saturday evenings at the time.  On February 24 The Herald reported on his latest talk, saying "The lecture room was crowded to excess with the fashionable world, ladies and gentlemen."  The women in the audience were warned against the physically constricting fashion trend--the corset.  He reminded them that "figure did not constitute beauty" and was sure that by evening's end "he would bring conviction home to the heart of every female of the destructive and pernicious effects of the corset."

drawing by John Disturnell, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The Financial Panic of 1837 erased the institution's endowment, and finances worsened following Dr. Morgan Lewis's death in 1844.  He had headed the trustees of the university since its inception.  An article in The New York Times entitled "A Financial Explosion" on February 8, 1849 lamented "Dr. Matthews was one of its most efficient founders; but unfortunately, of late years, it has fallen into quite different hands, and has been diverted from its original broad character, to a narrow and puritanical course.  Its prayers and piety, as far as lip service goes, the New York University is a perfect pattern; but in solid learning, sound sense, and flourishing funds, it has been as bad as it well could be."  The writer bemoaned "Is there no mode of resuscitating such a noble institution as this ought to be, and so useful in promoting the intellect and learning of this great metropolis?"

With enrollment falling off, a decision had been made to convert some of the dormitory rooms into bachelor apartments in 1840.  The New-York Tribune remarked in 1887 "The big, square marble building with its shortened towers, was long ago found too large for all its students, and, to help the college treasury along, nearly half of its living rooms were let out to bachelor tenants.  The Waverly Place wing was shut off as far as possible from the main hall, doors were cut at convenience through the inner walls to make suits, or barred up again to please tenants who took only single rooms."

Bachelors fitted up the apartments to their liking, like this artist's studio.  The Sun, March 6, 1892 (copyright expired)

While the accommodations needed the tenants' dressing up, the Washington Square location was fashionable and convenient.  "Rooms were taken bare of everything except the paper left by the last tenant on the wall, and were furnished to suit the taste or pocket-book of the owner."  It was a favorite among journalists and artists.  In 1892 The Sun recalled "they find in its cloister air and in the fine views from its windows a sympathetic place for their labor."  

In the years following the Civil War men paid from $300 a year for a single room, to $700 for a large suite--or about $1,450 per month for the most expensive in today's dollars.

In another move to augment the struggling university's coffers classrooms were leased to outside groups.  An announcement in The New York Herald on October 20, 1867 touted "A Ladies' Class, for the Study of the various stages of the English Language and Early English Literature is now being formed...This course is under the patronage of several ladies."  

Others who rented space were J. Jay Watson who advertised "Private lessons, piano, organ, violin, guitar, singing, languages, University Building, 36 Waverley place" on April 1, 1877; and his apparent competition, "Miss Watson's Select Music School for ladies and children.  Piano, Organ, Guitar, Singing, Languages."

Mrs. Henrietta A. Matthews and her husband occupied an apartment in the building where she held the position of "janitress"--more like a manager or superintendent in today's terms.  On Wednesday evening, March 27, 1878 three burglars broke into the third floor rooms of F. S. Comstock.  They loaded a bag with $250 worth of clothing and jewelry and were on their way out when they were frightened.  As they fled they left the bag on the staircase landing.

The Sun, March 6, 1892 (copyright expired)

The cause of their alarm was the approach of Mrs. Matthews who had been informed of the break-in.  The feisty, no-nonsense women had no intentions of allowing a burglary on her watch.  As the thief who dropped the bag scrambled to get away, "Mrs. Matthews caught him at the main door, grasped him by the arm and dragged him, notwithstanding his efforts to escape, to her room, where her husband assisted her in holding him until the arrival of Officer Kenny."

Part of the problem was that there was no security in the building as is expected today.  There were no guards to question anyone who wandered in or out, and because a long corridor ran from one end of the building to the other, crooks found it an inviting spot.  On November 24, 1889 The New York Times wrote "'Dead beats' and petty swindlers have discovered that the arrangement of the first floor of the building is specially well adapted for their thieving needs."

One scam was to order merchandise to be delivered to the University Building, then wait for the messenger.  The thief would ask him to wait while he hurried upstairs to get the payment, only to exit out the opposite side of the building.

Around 1877 the soaring chapel space, "which was one of the wonders of New York," according to The Sun, was floored over and divided into additional bachelor apartments.  While the lower two floors were much like the other rooms in the building, the article described:

...the top rooms have the vaulted roof of the chapel for a ceiling.  Turning from the windows one sees an interior like that of some mediaeval palace.  There are queer corners.  The pendants, massive and reaching nearly to the floors, make odd nooks and unexpected partitions.

Huge stars of gold glitter in the elaborate carving of the stone ceiling.  Gargoyles peer and grin.  there are Latin inscriptions half effaced.  In several of the rooms colossal figures, flowing and mysterious, rise from the floor to grow ghastly in evening shadows.

One of the upper apartments in the former chapel.  The Sun, March 6, 1892 (copyright expired)

In 1891 the university considered opening a northern campus.  On May 5 The New York Times reported that a committee meeting "took place last evening at the University Building, in Washington Square.  Plans for enlarging the scope of the university were discussed."  

The resident who had lived in the building the longest at the time was also its most eccentric.  Henry T. Gamage, known as the "University Building hermit," had moved into his room on the top floor around 1842.  During his half-century residency, according to The Evening World, "not more than two persons besides himself had been admitted there."  He cooked his own meals and "waited upon himself in every respect."  The newspaper said "The other tenants had become accustomed to his peculiarities, but the oldest of them had no more than a nodding acquaintance with him."

On February 13 1892 a servant passing by his room smelled a suspicious odor and pushed open the door, which was ajar.  Gamage had died in his chair and his head had fallen onto a small stove.  "He found that the old man's head was burned to the bone on the right side."

from the collection of the New York Public Library

There were more than fifty oil paintings stacked throughout the room.  Five days later The Sun reported that those who had called "the University building hermit [a miser] did the dead man a great injustice."  His will revealed that he had saved up his fortune as well as the accumulated paintings to pay the debts "incurred many years ago by his father."

The University Building--the symbol of the school--was included in the ambitious plan of the uptown campus.  The firm of McKim, Mead & White provided general plans to the university in April 1893 "for removing the historic building on Washington Square and reconstructing it" at University Heights.  The architects placed the cost of the project at $200,000--more than $5.75 million today.

The University Building took center stage in the original uptown plans.  The New York Times, April 29, 1893 (copyright expired)

The problem was that while the university did not want to see the venerable structure razed, it did not intend to pay for the expensive undertaking of moving it.  The New York Times explained that the trustees "feel unwilling to adopt plans which will obliterate the old edifice until they have invited citizens to assist them in preserving this notable structure."

The private donations did not come in.  And without the upgrades it would have received in the rebuilding, University Hall was unusable for the Washington Square campus (which would be officially named New York University in 1896).  It was demolished in 1894 to be replaced by the Main Building, designed by Alfred Zucker (renamed the Silver Center of Arts & Science in 2002).

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

The Lost William C. Rhinelander Mansion - 14 Washington Square North

When George F. Arata took this photo on May 26, 1912, Serena Rhinelander was living here alone with her staff of servants.   from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In the 1796 John Rogers purchased four acres of the former Warren estate north of the city, just east of Greenwich Village.    His vision of the area's potential had been extremely far-sighted.  At the southern hem of the property were an execution site where criminals were hanged and a burying ground for crooks and paupers.  Upon his death the land was divided among his three children, George, John Jr., and Mary.

In 1826 the City transformed the potter's field into a parade ground named in honor of George Washington and two years later bachelor George P. Rogers began construction of his summer house facing the square.  It would be the first in what would become a fashionable enclave of Greek Revival style mansions girding the park.

George's sister, Mary, was married to William Christopher Rhinelander on October 4, 1816.  The couple moved into a substantial home at No. 477 Broadway, near Broome street.  But, as The Sun explained decades later, "That neighborhood, which was then a residential one, was soon afterward invaded by business."  

The Rhinelander family were congregants of the Church of the Ascension on Canal Street.  When it burned in 1839 William provided the bulk of the funds to rebuilt far north, on the still unpaved Fifth Avenue at 10th Street.  Architect Richard Upjohn, who had only recently arrived in New York, was its designer.

Simultaneously, Rhinelander hired him to design a fine brick and marble house on Mary's inherited property at the western corner of Fifth Avenue and Washington Square North.   Completed in 1840, it was four bays wide along Washington Square North, and rose three full floors above the basement level to a short attic level.  A wide marble stoop led to the columned portico and a cast iron balcony fronted the parlor windows.

The Rhinelander family was one of the oldest and wealthiest in New York.   William's father, also named William, had purchased the family's "summer seat" on the Upper East Side in 1798.  The Washington Square house became a repository of valuable family art and artifacts.  The Sun later noted "Long before 1816 had been commenced the collection of family plate, the gathering of portraits, the preservation of rare furniture and exquisite belongings which naturally accumulate generation by generation.  And with these came established social position."

The couple had six children, four of whom survived childhood--Mary, Julia, Serena and William.  Mary's stay in at No. 14 Washington Square would be relatively short.  She married Lispenard Stewart on December 22, 1847.  And after  William, Jr. married Matilda Cruger Oakley on June 1, 1853, only Serena and Julia were left at home with their parents.

When William, Jr. and Matilda named their third son William Copeland Rhinelander, it greatly pleased the infant's grandfather.  (Even though the middle names were different, they were nonetheless both William C. Rhinelander.)  Reportedly, the boy became his grandfather's favorite and, according to The Sun, the millionaire "intended to leave his namesake, this William C. Rhinelander, the bulk of his fortune."

The Rhinelanders' religious convictions were deep enough to affect their choice of servants.  On July 14, 1857 an advertisement appeared in The New York Herald:  "A Protestant Waitress wanted immediately; one willing to assist in chamberwork."  (It was an unusual job description, not because of the religious bias, but because "waitresses," who did the serving, were considered a step above the maids who cleaned.  Few were asked to do work "below their station.")

One female servant was the source of significant family upheaval in 1876.  Margueretta McGuinness did not work in the Washington Square mansion, but around the corner on Fifth Avenue for William, Jr. and Matilda.  Their 21-year old son, William, did the unthinkable when he eloped with her.  So egregious was his social transgression that his name was later obliterated from the family genealogy.  Enraged, the young man's grandfather disinherited him.  

Mary Rogers Rhinelander had died on November 13 1859 and William C. Rhinelander died in the Washington Square mansion on June 20, 1878.  His funeral was held in the Church of the Ascension three days later.

On June 25, 1878 the details of the estate were made public.  The New York Herald said Rhinelander was "one of the seven largest real estate owners in the city, and left an estate valued at about $50,000,000."  The staggering sum would top $1.25 billion today. 

After bequests to charitable institutions, the estate was divided among the children.  The will directed that Julia and Serena could use the Washington Square house for two years, and then "be sold and the proceeds divided among the children."  There was no mention of the wayward William.

The spinster daughters continued living on in the mansion, surrounded by a substantial staff of servants.  They apparently purchased the property to satisfy the terms of the will.

The women turned their focuses to philanthropies, and in 1885 they funded a massive redecoration of the chancel area of the Church of the Ascension as a memorial to their parents.

The nearly identical house next door was constructed simultaneously, also designed by Upjohn.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The Rhinelander sisters were known nationwide for their fortunes and good works.   On December 1, 1888 The Kansas newspaper Wichita Eagle claimed "Miss Julia Rhinelander is the latest candidate for the honor of being the richest spinster in America.  She possesses $50,000,000 in New York real estate."  (The newspaper had confused her own holdings with her father's entire estate.)  Two months later, on February 3, 1889, the St. Paul Daily Globe reported "Miss Julia Rhinelander is an Episcopalian of the most devout sort, and also spends a large amount of her immense income in charity."  That newspaper was more accurate, saying "she is estimated as worth very nearly $15,000,00."  

The article commented on her personal life, saying "It is thought she will never marry, she so entirely refuses to listen to the almost endless offers of the male sex to undertake the care of her money."

Julia was overseas when she died on October 11, 1890.  Her sister now lived on in No. 14, continuing to generously donate to worthy causes.  

Perhaps her most notable gift came in 1897 when she donated the St. Christopher Mission House, costing $300,000, as well as ten lots on East 83rd Street near First Avenue to Jame's Protestant Episcopal Church.  The land was part of her grandfather's summer estate and Serena would eventually be responsible for a chapel, parish house and clergy house as well.  The New York Times called it "another magnificent donation."  

The Church of the Ascension continued to benefit from her membership and patronage.  She paid for its new organ and "subscribed liberally to the endowment fund" of the church, according to The Sun later.

Like her sister, Serena managed her own business and financial affairs.  The Salt Lake Herald wrote on February 12, 1899, "Miss Serena Rhinelander has one of the oldest and biggest New York estates on her hands, and she keeps the management of it mainly in her own hands. She owns scores of tenement and apartment houses, knows their exact condition and the rental they should yield, and she has perfected herself in domestic architecture to be able to examine and criticise intelligently all building and improvement plans for her property."

Serena and her Washington Square neighbors had resisted the trend to move northward along Fifth Avenue.   In doing so they preserved the aristocratic nature of the square; and that was clearly in evidence in 1900 when Serena temporarily got a new next-door neighbor.

On September 12, 1899 the head of the Vanderbilt family, Cornelius, died suddenly in his gargantuan Fifth Avenue mansion.   He, like William C. Rhinelander, had vociferously opposed a marriage within the family.  His namesake son, known familiarly as Nelly, received $500,000 from his $70 million estate; the bulk going to his other son, Alfred.

On November 18, 1900 the New-York Tribune reported "Among the important leases reported last week was that of No. 15 Washington Square North by Cornelius Vanderbilt."

Serena's life was not one of an eccentric hermit.  She routinely hosted the family Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners and traveled every year to upscale resorts.    On June 17, 1902, for instance, the New-York Tribune reported "Miss Serena Rhinelander has closed her house, in Washington Square North, and has left town for Narragansett Pier, where she has a cottage for the summer."

And she kept up with fashion.  Having returned from Narragansett she prepared for the winter season with new clothes; a few of which she would never receive.   She purchased a fur boa, a muff and two hats at the women's furnishings store of Miss Sweeney at No. 15 West 35th Street on December 9.  Ladies did not tote packages and Serena headed home to await the arrival of the delivery boy.

The fur items, worth about $3,230 today, were bundled up and entrusted to 14-year-old Charles Burgman.  When he got to the corner of Fifth Avenue, he was approached by "a well dressed man with a small black mustache, who offered him a quarter to take a message to Thirty-seventh-st. and Fifth-ave.," according to the New-York Tribune.  

The man said to go into the tailor shop and ask for the owner.  "Tell him that his lawyer, Mr. Stamford, is waiting for him here."  For his trouble, the stranger offered to hold Charles's bundles until he returned.  "But he was not there when the boy came back and detectives are trying to find him," said the article.

The Rhinelander mansion anchored the western row.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Serena's brother died on January 3, 1908.  His obituary ignored the fact that his son, William, had ever existed.  "He leaves a wife...and two sons, T. J. Oakley and Philip Rhinelander."  The notice mentioned "A sister, Miss Serena Rhinelander, still lives in their father's old house, No. 14 Washington Square."

(The disgraced son did receive something, however.  The New-York Tribune reported "Even to the time of his death, the father never became reconciled to his son, but he did add a codicil to his will, directing the executors to pay him $5,000 a year, on condition that the son remain out of New York.")

At the age of 85, Serena Rhinelander died in her venerable home on June 11, 1914.  Her will left $50,000 each to the Church of the Ascension and St. James's Church, the same amount to the Children's Aid Society, and $10,000 to the New York Eye and Ear Infirmary.  She provided bequests for each of her 17 household servants as well.  The New-York Tribune noted "T. Oakley Rhinelander, one of her nephews, is to have use of the family house for life."  

Newspapers made special note that "the much disinherited" William had been left out of the will.   The newspaper wrote on June 27, 1914 "For the third time in six years, and for the fourth time in his life, William Copeland Rhinelander, son of the late William Rhinelander and the late Mrs. Matilda Cruger Oakley Rhinelander, has been disinherited."

Following her funeral, Serena Rhinelander's casket was placed in the family vault in St. Paul's churchyard.  The Evening World noted "It was said there had not been a burial in St. Paul's churchyard for almost a year."

T. Oakley Rhinelander leased the family home to the colorful Mrs. Philp M. Lydig.  Born Rita Hernandez de Alba de Acostea, she had become the first wife of millionaire William Earl Dodge Stokes on January 3, 1895 at the age of 19.  The marriage ended in divorce in 1900 with Rita receiving a settlement of $2 million.  In 1902 she was married to Army captain Philip M. Lydig.  That too, was an unsuccessful marriage.

The couple had separated the same year that Serena Rhinelander died.  Known in society by her married name, Rita was reportedly referred to as "the most picturesque woman in America."  Her striking good looks and fashion sense led to her being a favorite subject of painters, sculptors and photographers--including Edward Steichen, Malvina Hoffman and John Singer Sargent.

Rita was painted by Giovanni Boldini in 1910.  image by Rauantiques

Entertainments in No. 14 were notable.  On December 19, 1916, for instance, she held an afternoon reception for Sarah Bernhardt.  And like Serena, Rita was highly involved in charitable causes.  On the afternoon of January 4, 1917 she hosted a recital for the benefit of the Greenwich House Music School, and on May 16, 1918 The Sun reported "A campaign to raise $200,000 for the New York Infirmary for Women and Children began last evening in the home of Mrs. Philip M. Lydig, 14 Washington Square North."

On June 18, 1919 The New York Times reported that Rita "will be a passenger on the french liner Espagne, which sales on Saturday for France.  While in Paris, Mrs. Lydig will sign her final decree of divorce from Major Philip M. Lydig."

Three years later the end of the road as private residences came for the former Rhinelander mansion and the butting Nos. 15  and 16.  On June 18, 1922 The New York Herald reported "Fears that the post Colonial appearance of the north side of Washington square would begin to disappear with the start of the building operation underway at the west corner of Fifth avenue can be laid at rest, at least for an indefinite period."

Architects Maynicke & Franke had been hired to renovate the three mansions into a modern apartment house.  The Herald explained "The fronts...have been removed and in their places white marble and brick facades will be erected."  One of the original Georgian Revival porticoes was salvaged and used as the entrance.  Maynicke & Franke attempted to preserve the tenor of the Square by recalling Greek Revival elements, reproducing the cast iron balconies, for instance.  The apartment building was named Rhinelander Houses.

Maynicke & Franke released this rendering in 1922, The New York Herald, June 18 (copyright expired)

Known as the Rhinelander Houses, they survived until 1951, replaced by an apartment house that melded mid-century architecture with neo-Georgian touches.