The 1890 Sun Fire Insurance Building - 54 Pine Street

Architect Arthur D. Pickering, whose offices were at No. 105 Fifth Avenue, enjoyed a varied practice in the 1880s and '90s.  His commissions ranged from luxurious country homes, to hotels and commercial buildings.  In 1889 he was hired by the London-based Sun Fire Insurance Company to design its new New York City offices.

Established in 1710 the firm was the second oldest fire insurance corporation in the world.  (A representative dismissed the second-place designation, noting in 1890 "As a corporation doing a purely fire insurance business it is, however, the oldest, as well as one of the richest.")  The firm had branched into New York City in 1882 and by now had 1,500 agents across the United States.  Now it looked to replace its old building at No. 54 Pine Street with a modern headquarters.

On June 7, 1889 Pickering filed the plans.  Three weeks later the Record & Guide noted the 27-foot wide building would be "constructed of Jonesborough granite and light-colored Baltimore brick."  The interiors, said the article would be of "marble and hardwoods" and there would be one elevator.

At a time when large buildings were thrown up within months, the Record & Guide seems to have been a bit impatient with the progress three months later.  "The five-story building now being erected at No. 54 Pine street, for the Sun Fire Office, of London, is not far advanced as yet.  The first floor iron beams are laid, and the side and rear walls are up to about the third story."

Construction was completed in May 1890 and the trade journal apparently felt it was worth the wait.  On May 10 the trade journal said "Indeed, it is safe to say that this building is one of the handsomest of its kind in the city."   Despite having just five floors, it was a pricey project, costing $160,000 with the land--just over $4 million today.

Pickering produced an eye-catching Queen Anne-style structure with no lack of visually interesting details.  Bands of stone contrasted with the Roman brick at the second floor, creating a striped effect.  The openings on this level were given egg-and-dart ornamented terra cotta frames.

A projecting cornice introduced the third and fourth floors where the openings were unified by a pair of complex Greek key terra cotta enframements.    Spandrel panels depicted sunbursts with faces, a nod to the name of the insurance company.  The top floor openings were grouped together within elaborate terra cotta frames.

The ground floor had little (or nothing) in common with the upper portion.  Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, May 24, 1890 (copyright expired)

Given the up-to-the-minute design of the upper stories, the ground floor was surprising.  The granite piers and entablature echoed the Greek Revival storefronts that had peppered the neighborhood decades earlier  The arched openings, as well, were holdovers from a generation earlier.

The Record & Guide said that much of the high cost of construction was "due to the quality of granite, marble, hardwoods and other embellishments used in the interior.  It pointed out "The flooring and wainscoting are of marble, and this is carried through the entire building.  Each floor is in hardwood trim, oak and quartered oak being used.  There are mantels, mirrors and fireplaces in the private offices of each suite, and all the necessary accommodations for an office building of a fire-class character have been provided, including an elevator, steam heat, electric gas lighting, sanitary plumbing, etc."

Nearly cartoonish sun faces symbolized the firm's name.

By the time the doors opened, the building was fully rented.  The basement through second floor were the Sun Fire Insurance offices; the third floor was taken up by the Transatlantic Insurance Company of Germany; the fourth was leased to insurance broker Frederick H. Parson; and the top floor to Joseph S. Spinney, a merchant who did significant business shipping goods to California.

Sun Fire Insurance would not be in the building long before it was one agent short.  In 1886 the 21-year old Charles Ackerman was hired for $5 a week.  The job, a company spokesperson later divulged, "was procured for him through the influence of H. M. Flagler."  Henry M. Flagler was, of course, a multi-millionaire partner in the Standard Oil Company.

Ackerman was more interested in enjoying a genteel lifestyle than in working.  The Sun later noted "He lived well and dressed well.  His commissioners were very small."  Describing him as "a tall, good looking young fellow," the newspaper said that he began courting "a young lady of good family" in Brooklyn, whom he married in 1890.

Ackerman's Sun Insurance manager, named Renshaw, told the reporter "during his courtship Ackerman gave his fiancee expensive presents, and his friends wondered where the money came from."  Everyone involved would find out when the firm's secretary, John J. Purcell, sent a letter to a policy holder in New Jersey asking why he was behind in his premiums.

The man appeared at No. 54 Pine Street with a receipt for $50 signed by Ackerman.  He then headed off for Ackerman's house in Brooklyn.  He waited there eight hours until the agent showed up.  Ackerman explained that it was all a huge mistake and that the man's money would be refunded the following day.

The Sun Fire Insurance Company would soon be looking for a replacement agent.  The Sun reported on October 21, 1891 that, indeed, he did pay back the $50; "but things were becoming very warm for him, and he departed to Chicago, leaving his young wife behind him.  This was six months ago."

Despite the size and wealth of the Sun Fire Insurance Company, its mangers showed their human side in 1894 when the firm was the victim of forgery.   After the perpetrator was caught, the circumstances surrounding the crime melted the hearts of the executives.

James E. Cowan had been working as a bookkeeper at the Norwich Fire Insurance Company nearby at No. 59 Wall Street.  But like so many other low-level workers, the Financial Panic of 1893 cost him his job in August that year and he could not find another.

He had just enough money to pay the $8 rent on the one-room apartment on West 133rd Street that he shared with his wife and 18-month old baby.  But he had nothing left for food or rent.

He forged a $40 check with the signature of  John C. Alten and went to the Sun Fire Insurance offices, saying he was the agent of Alten, who wished to insure two houses.  He received a $12 commission for the deal.  When Alten received the policy, the scam was uncovered.

Cowan was arrested and he confessed.  On October 13, 1894 The Sun reported, "Cowan, who is only 35 years old, but looks fully 50, wept as he stood at the bar."  The Evening World added "he told how he had committed the crime to get money to buy food for his wife and little girl, who were literally starving.  He had been out of work for a long time, and although brought up as a gentleman, he could not see his loved ones suffering for food."

In light of the several letters sent by officials of the Sun Fire Insurance Company "begging for clemency," Judge Cowing suspended sentence.

The firm was not so understanding when it came to George W. Holt, one of its fire insurance adjusters.   The city had been plagued with a rash of commercial fires in 1894 and early 1895.  In what seemed a remarkable coincidence, most of the cases were handled by Holt.

The disbelief on co-workers faces can only be imagined when police walked into the Sun Fire Insurance offices on June 22, 1895 and arrested Holt for arson and conspiracy to defraud.  Detective work had discovered that he was involved with a ring of "fire bugs" that included Policeman Charles H. Lenz.  The group would conspire with businessmen to burn their buildings, then divvy up the insurance settlements.


On October 16 The Sun noted that "There are seven persons charged with arson and said to be members of various firebug gangs awaiting trial now."  Among them was George W. Holt, who the newspaper said "is alleged to have made a fortune out of the business."

While Holt lost his job, he did not lose his freedom.  He was released when the jury was deadlocked for "lack of evidence."  Amazingly, he obtained a job in the New York office of the Fire Association Insurance Company of Philadelphia and immediately returned to his old ways.

On May 19, 1896, not a full year after his initial arrest, he was arrested along with Henry Vaughan and charged "with the presentation of false and fraudulent proof of loss with intent to defraud."  The New-York Tribune reported "The fire which they are alleged to have started was in the frame building owned by Max Gluckman, at No. 175 South Eighth-st.  The house was worth $1,200.  Hold was the representative of the fire insurance company."

Although the district attorney "strenuously contended that the defendants were guilty;" Judge Hurd dismissed the case in the County Court on January 6, 1897, saying it could not be proven.  The judge may have regretted his decision when three months later Holt was indicted "as an accessory after the fact to the crime of arson," according to The Sun on March 12.

Another tenant at No. 45 Pine to see the wrong side of jail bars was attorney Marshall R. Van Nostrand.  Following the death of one of his clients, Benjamin Pickman, on June 4, 1893, the administration of his $94,479 trust fund passed to Van Nostrand.  This gave him, according to The Evening Times of Washington D. C. years later, the "power to dispose of the principal by will."

Van Nostrand served as the legal adviser to the deceased man's widow, Sarah O. G. Pickman.  She became suspicious five years later and closely looked at the books.   She was displeased with what she found.

According to The Evening Times, "She asserts that he was to pay certain bequests in accordance with the will, and to invest the remainder for her benefit.  She acknowledges having received $82,494 from the lawyer, but says he has not accounted for $11,910."

The missing money would equal about a third of a million dollars today.  She filed suit for $18,070 and had Van Nostrand arrested.  The lawyer proclaimed his innocence and attributed the missing funds to "a claim against her for professional services, which, if settled, would clear the matter."

Another attorney in the building at the same time was Neville Castle, whose story outdid Van Nostrand's for drama.   Castle was doing a good business when he married San Francisco actress Mary Scott in 1899, whom The Hawaiian Star newspaper said "was regarded as the most beautiful woman on the Pacific Coast."

The bride moved to New York following the wedding and made her debut in The Princess and the Butterfly.  The New York Times mentioned, "in the role of Fay Zuliani, a debutante, Mary Scott, in private life Mrs. Neville Castle...seems to have made a note-worthy hit."

But while Mary's professional fortunes seemed bright, her husband's were not.   In 1900 his business failed.  Leaving his actress wife behind, he forged off to join the Alaskan gold rush.  On April 1, 1901 The Hawaiian Star reported "until a year ago [he] had offices at 45 Pine street.  He then lost his money, and hoping to regain his fortune, went to the Klondike."

Mary continued her stage career, while living at No. 220 West 45th Street.   In March 1901 a cousin, Mrs. Frank Goodwin, who lived at No. 467 Central Park West, gave a dinner in her honor.  Afterward Mary was supposed to attend rehearsals, but she complained of feeling ill and left for home.

She did not show up there and days later was still missing.  Newspapers nationwide reported on the search and suggested suicide.  Another cousin, Crocker Goodwin, who had been at the dinner, told reporters "In my opinion Mrs. Castle has made away with herself" and refereed a letter Mary had recently written to his wife that said "The game is not worth the candle, for the strain has absolutely worn me out."  Another cousin, Lawrence Griffith had spent two full days searching for her.  He added "She was too ambitious to be happy.  She simply wore herself out."

In fact, it may have all been a well thought out publicity scheme.  A few months later, on July 28, The Times reported "The feature at Keith's next week will be Miss Mary Scott, (Mrs. Neville Castle), who will make her first appearance in New York in vaudeville.  Miss Scott claims relationship with the late ex-President Benjamin Harrison."  No mention was made of the earlier incident.

In an interesting side note, eight years later Mary was arrested in the Waldorf-Astoria after she shot her lawyer William L. Craig in the main hallway there.  Rumors had already swirled that the two were carrying on an affair.  But she insisted that "she was not divorced nor legally separated from her husband, and that neither he nor she had any cause for divorce.  She said he was 'a Yale man and a gentleman,'" reported The Times.

Despite that, the couple was divorced within the year.

In the meantime, The Sun Fire Insurance Company had commissioned architect Richard K. Mosley in 1904 to "take out and rebuild [the] front wall" and to do interior renovations, including "re-arrange elevators."  While two of the hefty granite pilasters remained, the two openings were replaced by a yawning arch that engulfed a centered window flanked by two entrances, one to the upper floors and the other to the insurance offices.  Carved decorations in the spandrels of the arches depicted crossed burning torches--symbols of fire departments and related companies--under a heraldic shield.  An incised sunburst, symbolizing the Sun Fire Insurance company provided the background.

The corner carvings depict torches, symbols of the fire department, on a sunburst background.

One tenant in the pre-World War I years who was not involved in the legal or insurance industries was Harper Gallagher, a jewelry dealer.  He became the victim of a thug on his way home on the night of August 14, 1913 while riding on the Broadway streetcar.

Around 20th Street he felt a hand reaching for his wallet.  He grabbed the wrist of the middle-aged man sitting next to him, who pulled out what appeared to be a black-jack.  The New York Times reported "Whatever it was it landed on Gallagher's head with sufficient force to knock him from the car."

Gallagher's problems were not over by far.  As he began to get to his feet, he was struck by a north-bound street car and knocked to the gutter.  He was so battered that he was taken to the New York Hospital.  Detectives launched an investigation "to find out how the assault on the open trolley car had escaped notice."

After half a century at No 54 Pine Street and 30 years in the Pickering-designed building, in May 1920 the Sun Fire Insurance Company leased space at No. 56 John Street.   Three years later it transferred title to No. 54 Pine to real estate operator Frederick Brown.

Then, on May 1, 1926 The New York Times reported that A. G. Becker & Co. have moved their office to their own building at 54 Pine Street."   Prior to moving in, the firm had commissioned architect Lester Kintzing to remodel the interiors to "banking offices," as described in his plans.  The minor alteration to the facade was the inclusion of bronze lettering above the first floor entablature which announced the firm's name.

The Chicago-based brokerage firm filled all five floors and did business here until 1955 when it sold the property to Simon Mogeloff and the Interboro Realty Company.  A. G. Becker & Co. moved to No. 60 Broadway in December that year and the new owners renovated No. 54 to house a restaurant on the ground floor and mezzanine, with offices above.  For some reason, the bronze lettering over the new restaurant's window were preserved.

In 2000 a three-year renovation resulted in one apartment on each of the upper floors.  A restaurant is still housed at ground level.  Arthur D. Pickering's striking 1890 building is overshadowed by its soaring skyscraper neighbors.  It is nonetheless a delightful surprise on the narrow little street.

photographs by the author

The 1913 Goupil Building - 56-58 West 45th Street

At the turn of the last century West 45th Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues was still holding on as an upscale residential block.   The widowed Mrs. Henrietta Holbrook lived in the three-story brownstone at No. 56.  Before long her next door neighbor would be a men's social club.  In 1906 the Caduceus of Kappa Sigma noted "The Cornell Club also has a house of its own, having recently made its home in a five-story, brown-stone house at 58 West Forth-fifth street."

But change was most definitely on the horizon.  Already hotels and shops were inching into the neighborhood.  The end of the line for both buildings came in 1912.

George Backer ran the George Backer Construction Company and he often acted as his own developer.  On August 3, 1912 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide noted that "Work will start immediately on the 16-sty office building to be erected at 56-58 West 45th st. for George Backer."

Backer commissioned the firm of Wallis & Goodwillie to design the structure.  Frank E. Wallis was a respected architect who also wrote articles and books like his ABC of Architecture.  His partner, Frank Goodwillie, specialized in the engineering aspects of their projects.

Costing $300,000--a stunning $7.3 million today--the building was completed in September 1913.  The New-York Tribune commented that it "is considered one of the finest office buildings north of the Grand Central Station."   Wallis & Goodwillie had produced a striking neo-Gothic structure entirely clad in white terra cotta.  A two-story eliptical arch at street level fronted the retail space.  A row of medeival masks connected by ribbon decorated its edge.

Elaborate Gothic elements decorate the lower facade.

The lower three floors and top two were heavily embellished with Gothic motifs--quatrefoil panels, heraldic shields, and pointed arches, for instance.   The spandrel panels of the midsection offered repeating tapestries of geometric lines and rosettes--a bit more Tudor than Gothic.

There was one non-commercial occupant.  The 17th-floor contained a nine-room apartment for George Backer.  He also moved the offices of his construction firm into the building, and, interestingly, Wallie & Goodwillie moved in as well.

The retail store was leased to Goupil & Co., of Paris, dealers in costly prints, paintings and other artwork.  The firm had established a New York City branch as early as 1857.  George Backer named his building after his prize tenant.

The Sun, April 30, 1916 (copyright expired)

While the bulk of the early tenants were unexceptional--the Parks & Weiss Agency, real estate offices; the Falk Tobacco Co., and James M. Faust real estate, for instance--one stood out.  On October 4, 1913 the Record & Guide ran a headline reading "A Novel Lease" and explained that Dr. Watson L. Savage intended to open what today is commonplace--a gym.

The article said "An interesting lease was closed yesterday...whereby an opportunity will be presented to overworked business men and women to regain their strength, without interfering seriously with their business."  It explained that Watson had leased an entire upper floor.  "He will install exercising apparatus for the convenience of those who are in need of such, and will also install squash and handball courts for recreative purposes."  The writer noted "The game of squash, a form of tennis, has become very popular here, and many wealthy people are constructing courts in their homes."

The George Backer Construction Co. was still headquartered here when Backer sold the building to Conrad Hubert in 1915.  Backer essentially doubled his money in the sale, which grossed him $600,000.  It was not a cash deal, however.  The Record & Guide noted that in part payment Hubert gave his "country estate, 'Vista Range,' near Summit, N. J., comprising 160 acres, with a large residence and outbuildings."

The terra cotta panels of the lower floors are veined to imitate marble.

Hubert was owner and president of the American Ever Ready Company.  He had purchased the rights in 1898 to the battery-powered "electric device" or "torch" which would become best known as a portable flashlight.  His firm manufactured and sold batteries under the brand name "Ever Ready."  (The trademark would later be shortened to Eveready.).

Hubert moved his firm into the building and made one significant change--he got rid of George Backer's penthouse apartment.  The New-York Tribune explained "the demand for space in the building caused Mr. Hubert to convert the apartment into offices."

The American Ever Ready Company remained in the building until 1921 when Conrad Hubert sold it to Herman Lakner on May 9--ironically the day after George Backer died.   Like Hubert, Lakner (who paid $700,000) immediately made one noticeable change.  The New-York Tribune reported on May 10 that the building "will be called the Lakner Building by the new owner."

When Lakner purchased the building, two old brownstones, altered for business, still survived next door.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

At the time of Lakner's takeover, the building was rented at about $102,000 a year, or about $1.6 million in today's dollars.  He added new tenants that year, including the newly-formed George K. Culp, Inc., the California-based May, Sherman, Clay & Co., and the Savings Bank Association of the State of New York.

George K. Culp had been involved in the tire industry for a decade.  His new firm was organized "for the purpose of putting into effect the 'Culp Plan' of co-operation in the manufacturing and merchandising of tires, tubes and other automotive accessories," according to Elastomerics magazine on July 25.  In effect, the firm marketed surplus tires to foreign countries.

The May, Sherman, Clay & Co. was also involved in the automobile industry, providing "associated auto loans."

The Savings Bank Association took over the space formerly occupied by Goupil & Co.  The Evening World, April 21, 1921

The highly-esteemed architectural firm of Buchman & Kahn were in the building at the time.  Albert Buchman and Jacques Kahn had formed the partnership in 1917 following the dissolution of Buchman & Fox, "well known for many years in the practice of architecture," as pointed out by Architecture and Building that year.  From its offices here the firm would produce some of Manhattan's most recognizable structures like the jazzy 2 Park Avenue and the 1930 Squibb Building on Fifth Avenue.

Nos. 56-58 was also home to the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers, best known today as ASCAP.  Its president, internationally-known music publisher George Maxwell, brought scandalous attention to the group when he was indicted on charges of "forgery in the third degree and a misdemeanor in sending scurrilous letters to Allan A. Ryan, the financier, reflecting on the latter's wife," as reported in The New York Times on May 11, 1923.

As it turned out, Maxwell had apparently been sending slanderous letters under false names for years to respected businessmen.  They laid out in detail the supposed affairs the men's wives had been carrying on.

On May 16 the board of directors of ASCAP met, and then released a resolution to the newspapers which said in part that they "unanimously record its complete and entire confidence in its President, George Maxwell, and in his complete innocence of the accusations made against him and in his ability to secure complete vindication of the charges."

Although experts testified that the handwriting on the letters was Maxwell's, the charges were dropped in July 1923.  With the ugly affair behind them, the ASCAP members turned to other business.

One of the organization's most illustrious members was composer Victor Herbert.  On the day of his funeral, May 28, 1924, ASCAP members assembled in the 45th Street building, then processed up Fifth Avenue to St. Thomas's Church for the ceremony.  The Police Band led the procession.  Herbert's honoary pall bearers included orchestra leader Nathan Franko., Jerome Kern, John Philip Sousa and Max Dreyfus.

Another tenant at the time which seemed to be associated with the entertainment industry was the Amusement Privilege Company in Room 412.  And while it could be argued that the firm provided entertainment of a sort, it was not in the form of music or theater arts, as newspaper readers discovered following a raid on its offices in November 1925.

Prohibition had been in effect for five years and the Amusement Privilege Company had devised a clever scheme--what Federal officials called "a mail order rum ring."  On November 17 U.S. Attorney Emory R. Buckner alleged that "the activities of the alleged ring had been nation-wide, that its work has been carried on in many States and that its customers had been numbered by the thousands."  The company hired traveling salesmen who covered the entire country.   They would take orders for liquor, which were then filled and delivered.

But unlike speakeasies or underground distilleries, the offices here had no liquor on premises.  Before they could make their raid, the Federal agents needed clear evidence.  Working with the building management, they instructed the janitor to save the contents of the wastebaskets from Room 412.  During the trial in March 1926, the rental agent, a Mr. Whiteford, testified "that he pasted together many torn bits of paper from these waste baskets and later turned them over to the Government in the form of valuable evidence."

The pasted-together documents were customer orders ranging from $50 to $500, and price lists of cases of liquor costing as much as $100 ($1,400 today).  The quality of that liquor was beyond questionable.  In reporting on the case, The New York Times revealed "It is alleged also that the so-called Scotch whisky sold by the company was manufactured on a few hours' notice."

Ironically, the following year, on April 17, 1927, the Government announced it was opening the Government Service Institute in the 45th Street building.  "The school is the first institution, so far as is known," said The Times, "to undertake the training of men for prohibition enforcement.  It was formed for that specific purpose...The general idea will be to utilize the practical experience of the members of the Faculty, which includes all branches of prohibition work."

ASCAP was still in the building at the time.  Music publisher A. J. Stasny Music Co., was also here, as was the publishing firm of Walker V. McKee.   With the onslaught of the Great Depression, the Regional Planning Association of America established offices here by 1932.  Part of President Roosevelt's New Deal, it highly involved in developing the Tennessee Valley Authority.

The architectural office of Kohn & Butler, formed in 1917 by the partnership of Robert D. Kohn and Charles Butler, was here by 1934.  Among their associate architects were Clarence S. Stein and Henry Wright (both of whom received fellowships to the American Institute of Architects that year), Frank Holden, and Frank E. Vitolo.  Like Buchman & Kahn, the firm was responsible for striking structures, like Congregation Emanu-El on Fifth Avenue.

A repeating honeycomb-like pattern with three-dimensional rosettes fills the upper spandrels,

The post war years saw a change in the type of tenants.  In 1950 Jay Florian Mitchell had operated his photography and camera business here for several years.  Working in cooperation with the Yacht Racing Association of Long Island Sound that year, he came up with an innovative scheme for his patrons, what he called a "regatta camera trip for amateurs."

He told reporters on July 15, "This new kind of camera trip gives the amateur a chance to photograph yachts of many classes competing in actual races in Long Island Sound."  He had arranged on-shore visits for close-ups of the boats and crews, and scenes in the clubhouse and piers.  It was not all work, however.  "Everyone is urged to bring a bathing suit, as provisions have been made for swimming as part of the trip's program."

Radio and television distributor Monarch-Saphin Company was in the building at the time; and architect Charles Butler was still working from his office here in 1953 when he died at the age of 82.

By the 1960s the West 45th block was just steps away from the Diamond District, and jewelry manufacturers and sellers took advantage of the proximity.  Among them was the Jack Beck Diamond Company on the 17th floor on Nos. 56-58 which became a victim of a rash of violent jewelry heists in October 1960.

On Thursday night October 27 Beck was waiting on a customer, Sam Sharaby, when two gunmen rushed into the shop.  Both Beck and Sheraby were bound with tape and rope, then the robbers made off with $50,000 in loose diamonds (more in the neighborhood of $413,000 today).  The Times reported "Detectives said later that Mr. Beck was so unnerved by the incident that they were unable to obtain much information."

The following year the Greater New York Anglo-Jewish Publications, Inc. moved its offices to the building.  The firm published the Long Island Jewish Press and the Westchester Jewish Tribune.  By 1966 the ground floor space was home to the Low & Hughes Golf Shop.

In 2008 trouble played out in the sixth floor shop of NS Diamonds.  Pritam Sharma, a 38-year old diamond importer, was owed money by the owner, according to him.  In a fit of rage over the unpaid debt, he walked into the office around 12:45 on the afternoon of February 25, and drew out a knife.  He stabbed and slashed the man in the torso, according to police.  An employee who tried to intervene was cut on his right hand.  All three men were taken to Bellevue Hospital and Sharma was arrested, charged with two counts of assault and criminal possession of a weapon.

Today the space where Goupil & Co. sold artwork and pottery, is home to a clothing store.   The Midtown Center for Treatment and Research of addictive drugs, run by the Weill Cornell Medical College occupies the ninth floor.  Through it all, other than the remodeled storefront, Wallis & Goodwillie's remarkable terra cotta facade is essentially untouched.  A striking relic of a time of change on the 45th Street block a century ago.


photographs by the author
many thanks to reader Michael Schwenk for suggesting this post

The Charles H. Bush House - 245 West 101st Street

The district once known as Bloomingdale had changed from a quiet village surrounded by farms at the time of the Revolution to a developing urban suburb a century later.  In 1900 builders and developers Egan & Hallecy were a part of that transformation.  They had commissioned the architectural firm of Neville & Bagge several times for speculative projects.  Now they hired the architects to design six upscale townhouses on the north side of West 101st Street, between Broadway and West End Avenue.

Completed in 1901, they were a balanced row of three designs in an A-B-C-C-B-A plan.  Nos. 245 and 255, at either end, were mirror images and by far the most fanciful of the row.  The entrances within the rusticated stone bases sat above a shallow porch.  The formal, elegant porticoes, upheld by classical columns with Scamozzi capitals, would have been at home in London's Mayfair district.

While the houses in between were rigidly symmetrical, the architects gave the end residences romantic personalities.  A full-height bay projected forward from the rest of the row and featured a wide, arched opening at the second floor with an ornate Renaissance style eyebrow and delicate fanlight; a tripartite, and an angled bay at the third floor with bracketed cornice and sill.  Most eye-catching were the storybook elements to the side--stone-framed oculi in the staircase hall and a Rapunzel-ready quarter-round oriel.

The elaborate cornice included lions' heads staring down at passersby.

Although they were a mere 16 feet wide, the new homes attracted well-to-do owners.  No. 245 was purchased on July 3, 1901 by Charles H. and Julie L. F. Bush.  Their $20,000 mortgage--more than $580,000 today--reflected the upscale tone of the neighborhood.

The couple summered in Long Branch, New Jersey.  Their entertaining was not grand and their names rarely appeared in the newspapers.  Not until 1909.

Bush was an insurance agent for the New York Life Insurance Company.  He and his fellow agents were required to sell $50,000 per year in policies in order to retain his membership in NYLIC, the association of New York Life agents.  As 1908 drew to a close, Bush needed $7,000 to meet his quota.  The $25,000 policy he presented to his boss in December, along with a certified check for the premium, more than satisfied that.

But, according to the New-York Tribune, "the company refused to accept this business on the ground that it had written in that year all the insurance business it legally could."  (The "Armstrong Law" limited insurance companies to sell more than $150,000,000 in any given calendar year.)   Therefore, Bush failed to meet his quota and lost his membership in NYLIC.

Bush sued and the shock waves traveled across the nation.  The case went to the highest courts in New York State.  Eventually Governor Charles Evans Hughes and Attorney General Edward R. O'Malley got involved.   Bush's suit resulted in insurance law reforms.

Nevertheless, the damaged may have been done.  In April 1910 the Bushes sold No. 245 to Walter Thomas Kohn and his wife, the former Elsie Bloch.  The couple had been married just three years earlier, and would have three children: Peter, Walter Arnold and Marjorie.

An attorney and member of Weschler & Kohn, he was also an officer in the Regal Drug Co. and the Dean Holding Co., and a director in several corporations and banks.  When his father, Arnold Kohn, founded the North American Bank in 1911, he added one more directorship to his resume.

The winter season of 1911-12 was the year of Dorothy Kohn's debut into society.  Walter's niece, she had been a bridesmaid at his and Elsie's wedding.  On February 9, 1912 the Kohns gave "a dinner dance for young people" in the house for her.

Walter was one of New York's most visible attorneys, defending highly publicized cases.  One of these involved Nicholas Riabouchinsky, described by The Sun on May 19, 1916 as "a member of one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Russia."

Riabouchinsky arrived in New York on October 28, 1915, sent by the Russian Government to negotiate the construction of munitions plants at home.  He was authorized to spend $20 million.  But not all his spending had to do with the military project.

Described as "a stalwart, heavily bearded man with the mannerisms of a Frenchman," he was well known internationally as a connoisseur and collector of old masters.  He brought with him 30 paintings from his collection to sell in New York.  One, Sodoma's "Holy Family With St. John," sold for $31,850.


But trouble came when the Russian nobleman got involved with Timothy J. McKenna, who operated a gambling den.  Riabouchinsky's luck was not as strong as his love of the roulette and he racked up a debt of $45,000--more than $1 million in today's dollars.   McKenna sued, and Riabouchinsky hired Kohn to defend him.

Both men were understandably reticent to provide self-incriminating details.  The Sun noted that McKenna's "name, habitat and business are not revealed in the papers" and that Riabouchinsky denied any debts.

Kohn declared in court that "We don't...deny that there was a game;" but defended his client on an early version of diplomatic immunity.   The Sun reported "The sum and substance of Riabouchinsky's answer is that he does not owe McKenna any money in the first place, and that even if he does he is not obliged to pay it."

(In an interesting side note, Riabouchinsky and his 21-year old wife defected to New York City just before the Russian Revolution, a move that might explain the 15 trunks of artwork he had liquidated earlier.  The nightlife-loving millionaire spent his time on Broadway, lavishing showgirls with gifts and flowers.  Eventually his wife, who was "lavishly entertained by society," according to The Daily Missouilian, and deemed by artist Arnold Genthe "the most beautiful woman in the world," had enough.  They were divorced in 1917.)

The Kohns enjoyed the lifestyle of the upper middle class.  On January 5, 1920 they advertised for two servants, a "chambermaid-waitress" and a "laundress-chambermaid."  The combination of duties implied in the job titles separated the Kohn household from the wealthier upper class, where servants' responsibilities were more specific.

Around the time of the Stock Market crash the Kohns sold No. 245 to Dr. John Block and his wife, the former Rose Boorstein.  The couple had two children, Arnold (who also became a doctor) and Helen.   John converted a portion of the ground floor to his office. 

Following his death in the house on October 29, 1937, the upper floors were converted to one apartment per floor.

Helen was by now married to Naphtali Lewis.  Both educators, they had recently returned from several years in Europe and moved into the 101st Street house. She was an instructor in psychology at Brooklyn College and he taught classical language at the City University of New York.   When their first child was born in 1942 Helen stopped teaching.  But her attendance at union meetings before then caught the attention of Senator Joseph McCarthy in 1953.

When the Bush family lived here, the house would have been tightly closed in the summer.  In 1944, when this shot was taken, the windows are all opened for relief from the heat.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Both Helen and Naphtali were summoned to testify at the McCarthy Senate hearings on un-American activities.  Helen refused to testify, invoking her Fifth Amendment rights.  Naphtali was grilled in two public sessions, on June 10 and 19, 1953.  Earlier that year he had received a Fulbright scholarship to study ancient manuscripts in Florence, Italy.   But McCarthy was displeased with Helen's refusal to cooperate.

When Naphtali took the stand McCarthy announced "Dr. Lewis, we have just been notified by the State Department that your job in Italy has been canceled; that you are not being sent there.  I think that is an excellent idea."

In a written response, Lewis said in part "This inquisition, if it has its way, establishes a novel and singularly un-American principle; namely that before a man is permitted to pursue a career of research--even in ancient manuscripts--he must have the stamp of approval of a congressional subcommittee on himself and his family."

Dr. Naphtali Lewis would go on to become an internationally-recognized expert in papyrus manuscripts, an author of several important texts, and sought-after lecturer.   Helen, who also held a doctorate, was a distinguished psychologist and psychoanalyst.

In the meantime, in 1946 the doctor's office installed by John Block was eliminated and converted to an apartment.  The building now had one apartment per floor, as it does today.

No. 245's mirror image at the far end of the row wears a regrettable coat of lavender paint.

The 1901 row of handsome homes has suffered some abuse as the days of chambermaids and laundresses gave way to apartments and furnished rooms.  But No. 245, under its unnecessary coat of red paint, retains its fanciful charm and remarkable history.

photographs by the author

The Lost Seth M. Milliken Mansion - 951 Madison Avenue

The original appearance of the double-wide house matched the skinny houses to the right.  The arched window above the entrance disguises the fact that it was, originally, the parlor floor doorway.  photo by Wurts Bros, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In the first years of the 20th century the Madison Avenue neighborhood around 75th Street had changed from one of middle-class to moneyed families.  Dry goods magnate Seth Mellen Milliken recognized the potential of the area and as early as 1896 began buying up properties. 

Milliken had two sons, Seth Minot and Gerrish H., and a daughter Margaret.  Seth had graduated from Yale University in 1898 and from the College of Physicians and Surgeons in 1902.  While he was on the staff of the French and Roosevelt Hospitals, he also enjoyed a private practice that included some of the wealthiest New York families.

By 1916 Seth Mellen Milliken was living on East 77th Street, just off Fifth Avenue, and Dr. Milliken and his wife, the former Alida King Lesse, were nearby on Madison Avenue between 74th and 75th Street.  Their double-wide house was the result of combining two 1870s brownstones, Nos. 951 and 953.  Now the socially-visible couple laid plans to update their home into a modern residence, and they turned to Alida's architect cousin, Harry Ellingwood Donnell, to redesign it.

In the spring of 1917 Donnell filed plans to remodel the houses.  On June 23 The American Contractor reported that the renovations would include a "new front," bathrooms, and remodeled interior layout and walls.  The cost was estimated at $12,000; just over a quarter of a million dollars today.

At the time a renewed interest in colonial architecture had swept America.  Donnell joined the trend by producing a five-story neo-Georgian mansion.  Faced in red brick and trimmed in white stone, it featured 18th century elements like splayed lintels at the second floor, blind arches, and a stately balustrade facing the dormered mansard.

Donnell removed the stoop, pretending to make this a modern, American basement dwelling with its entrance on the sidewalk.  In fact, the interior arrangement of the floors were as they were.  This meant that the English basement survived with its entrance below street level and its windows peeking above the sidewalk.  While the family and their guests no longer climbed stairs outside, they climb them just inside the doorway.  The result was that the sills of the arched openings of the first floor were perched almost level with the top of the entrance.

Seth and Alida had five children--Minot King, John Floyd, Seth Mellen, Alida Donnell and Martha Ellingsworth.  The family maintained a country estate, Ellingwood, in East Blue Hill, Maine.  The Millikens would be highly involved in a surprisingly eclectic range of causes--from political and social, to theatrical and to medical.

Seth Milliken had been stricken with poliomyelitis at the age of 9, which paralyzed his right leg.  He refused to let his handicap hold him back and later devoted much of his energy to helping the disabled.  At the end of World War I he headed the Reconstruction Hospital.  He acted as treasurer of the Academy of Medicine and the New York Medical Society for Widows and Orphans.

His disability did not deter him from athletic activities, either.  He was a member of the New York and Seawanhaka Yacht Clubs and a founder of the Maine Yacht Racing Association.

Among the doctor's high-end clients was Joel W. Thorne, described by The Sun as "a member of one of New York's oldest families."   Thorne's wife, Mary, was set to testify in their contentious divorce case in the spring of 1918, when she suddenly found herself in the psychopathic ward of Bellevue Hospital in a straitjacket.

Her attorney complained to reporters "This is a conspiracy to get her out of the way.  She is no more insane than you or I."  A journalist from The Sun called Milliken at the New Jersey residence.  The doctor defended Thorne, saying that he had no knowledge of his wife's hospitalization.   "It was not until I had taken her to Bellevue that any member of her husband's family communicated with me regarding her case," he said.

Milliken would soon change that story.  Judge Giegerich deemed her sane and said "I do not think this young woman should have been detained."   A furious Mary Thorne was released and bent on revenge.

She filed a $200,000 law suit against Milliken, saying he took her to Bellevue in his own automobile under the guise of her getting rest and "a tonic."  She testified "All my clothes were taken from me and a coarse muslin shirt or nightrobe was handed me.  I was put in a straitjacket."

The well-publicized jury trial began in April 1920 and went on for days.  Seth Milliken's account had changed in the two years since the incident.  The Evening World reported "Dr. Milliken asserted Mrs. Thorne went to Bellevue of her own free well and that he did not even accompany her there."   Then, on April 2, the newspaper ran the headline "Mrs. Thorne Loses Suit For $200,000 / Dr. Milliken Convinces Jury He Did Not Have Her Imprisoned in Bellevue."

In the meantime, Alida's entertainments in the Madison Avenue mansion mostly centered around her many causes.  She was a directress in the Maternity Centre Association, which trained mothers-to-be on pre- and post-natal care.   If a mother was too poor to pay for hospital care, the group paid for a physician and arranged for a housekeeper to help in the early days after birth.

She hosted bridge parties and receptions causes like for the Women's Auxiliary of the French Hospital, and the Lincoln Hospital, for instance.  And on May 9, 1926 The New York Times reported that the Millikens would open their home for "an exhibition and sale of small paintings by representative American artists...to help the Association for the Aid of Crippled Children and the Lenox Hill Neighborhood Association."  The article mentioned "The garden of the house will be converted into a tea garden, where articles made by patients of the Reconstruction Hospital will be on sale."

Alida was a graduate of Smith College and she founded the first Smith College Club in the nation.   She gave a bridge party on March 5, 1920 for 16 Smith alumnae, each of whom paid $2 to play.  They all had to agree to host an identical party--the theory being that it would result in an "endless chain bridge system."  The entrance fees went to the Smith endowment fund,

The Millikens' interest in the arts and philanthropic work came together in 1924 when they formed the Blue Hill Troupe, an amateur musical organization that gave charity benefits.  The group, for the most part, staged light productions like Gilbert and Sullivan operettas.

In 1927 the Milliken children were nearing adulthood.  That year daughter Alida was feted for her debut into society.   But her strong-opinioned mother (Alida was a vocal member of the John Birch Society and a member of the executive committee of America First, for instance) seems not to have approved of how everything played out.

Two years later, as Martha's coming-out neared, Alida gathered the mothers of "sub-debs" in the Madison Avenue house to get some things straightened out.  She was chairperson of the newly-formed Parents' League and the meeting on April 18 would change the way debut receptions, dances and luncheons were handled.

When the socialites left that afternoon, The New York Times reported they had agreed "that luncheon and dinner hostesses shall seat their guests promptly" and that late-comers would be served with the meal already in progress.  Dances had to end between 2 and 3 a.m. and the closing noted on the invitations.  Alida and some other mothers had been peeved about "the general disregard by guests of the hour for which they are invited...resulting in inconveniences to hostesses and confusion to the guests."

One may assume that when the Millikens gave a dance for Martha seven months later the guests arrived on time.

Alida was the first to marry.  Her wedding to Frederic Edgar Camp in the Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church on October 30, 1931 was a socially-important affair (John D. Rockefeller III and Donald Agnew were among the ushers), followed by a reception in the Madison Avenue house.

Martha's marriage to Frederick Snow Nicholas two years later was held in East Blue Hill, with the reception in Ellingwood.

Seth and Alida continued to open their home for charitable causes, several times staging full Gilbert and Sullivan operettas by the Blue Hill Troupe through the 1930s.  Following the overthrow of Yugoslavia, Alida became involved in the women's division of the  American Committee for Yugoslav Relief.  She held a meeting in the house in February 1945 to plan a large dinner dance to raise relief funds.

Minot married Edith Clark, whose grandfather had founded the Clark Thread Company, in 1942.  The last of the Milliken children to marry was Seth.  A graduate of Yale and the Columbia Law School, he was working with the law firm of Davies, Hardy, Schenck & Sons when his engagement to Phyllis-Ann Hall was announced in October 1953.

On October 5, 1957 the Millikens celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary.  It would be their last.   Three weeks later, on November 18 Seth died in the Madison Avenue mansion at the age of 82.

Alida remained on in the house and, somewhat surprisingly, just seven months after Milliken's death, it was the scene of another wedding reception.   Susan Milliken Camp was married on May 10, 1958 in the Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church where her parents had been wed 27 years earlier.  Her reception would be one of the last entertainments in the Madison Avenue mansion.

In fact, the final event in the house was held during the week of November 14, 1961.  Alida had long been involved in raising funds for Cancer Care, Inc.  The benefit called "Les Boutiques de Noel" held in the house that week offered a wide variety of merchandise like handbags by Martin Van Schaak, jewels by Grant A. Peacock, and gourmet food and kitchen accessories from Au Bon Gout of Palm Beach, Florida.  In reporting on the benefit event, The New York Times mentioned "The house was stayed from demolition so that the sale could be held there."

Alida moved to an apartment at No. 313 East 69th Street where she died at the age of 95 on February 13, 1975.  In the meantime, on the site of the former Milliken house the Whitney Museum rose, completed in 1966 from designs by Marcel Breuer.  Met with mixed criticism at the time, the structure is now considered innovative and daring.

Remarkably, the 1870s brownstones on the southern half of the block survive.  photo by Edward Gillon from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

many thanks to reader Brad Emerson for suggesting this post

The 1830 Hugh Walker House - 404 West 20th Street

When Clement Clarke Moore inherited his family country estate, Chelsea, in 1813, it extended from what would be 19th Street to 24th Street, and from Eighth Avenue to the Hudson River.  But two years earlier the Commissioners' Plan had laid out the proposed grid of streets and avenues north of Greenwich Village, dissecting on paper Moore's bucolic estate.

In 1825 Moore donated his apple orchard, equaling 66 tracts of land, for the site of the General Theological Seminary.  Soon thereafter building plots were laid out as streets began appearing.

Moore's early deeds and land leases were specific in his intentions of making respectable what originally was called  Chelsea Village.  In 1829 he signed a lease with Hugh Walker for the plot at 404 West 20th, across from the Seminary site.  Walker's $40 per year lease--about $1,060 today--came with the agreement that should he erect a "good and substantial house" of two or more stories and "constructed of brick or stone, or having a brick or stone front" within seven years, Clarke would buy it at the end of the term.

Walker wasted no time in starting construction.  Completed in 1830, his 25-foot-wide, two-and-a-half story wooden home was faced in Flemish bond brick as per the agreement.  A peaked roof would have originally had one or two dormers.  Sadly, if Walker lived to see his new home finished, it was only for weeks or months.  In 1830 the leasehold was transferred to his widow; who gave it up three years later to builder and real estate operator James N. Wells.

Wells had been a significant partner with Clement Clarke Moore from the first days of the development of Chelsea.  The same year that he took over the leasehold for No. 404, Don Alonzo Cushman, a friend of both men, began purchasing lots in Chelsea.  In 1835 he started construction on the long row of upscale homes abutting No. 404 and running west.

It was most likely Wells who remodeled No. 404 to match Cushman's more modern Greek Revival residences.  He cleverly copied their stone entrances in wood, raised the attic level to a full floor, and installed a bracketed cornice.

By 1852, Wells had partnered with William Roome and they established their office in No. 167 Ninth Avenue, one of three houses built in 1845 by Don Alonzo Cushman.  It was conveniently around the corner from No 404, which became the home of William and Susannah Roome.  Susannah died in the house on Wednesday, July 3, 1867 and her funeral was held in the parlor two days later.  It was perhaps her death that resulted in Wells & Roome leaving the Ninth Avenue office that year.

Following the Roomes in No. 404 was the Coffin family.  Timothy and Anna were no doubt devastated when their 13-year-old daughter, Minnie, contracted "malignant scarlet fever" late in 1874.  Decades before the discovery of antibiotics, there was no cure and on December 17 the teen succumbed.  Her funeral was held in the house the following Saturday morning.

Within the next decade the property was owned by Thomas Cotterell.  Interestingly, he sold it on June 1, 1886 to Ephraim Holbrook Cushman, the son of Don Alonzo Cushman, for $13,000--more than $342,000 in today's dollars.  It was either Cotterell or Cushman who gave the stoop updated Italianate ironwork and extended the parlor windows to floor level.

Victorian funerals were expected to be held in the homes of the deceased, and No. 404 was the scene of another in May 1893 following the death of 37-year-old Jane Kitching.  She had died in her bed on May 1.

In the mid-1890s the house became home to the widowed Joseph E. Dixon and his daughter Lillie.  Dixon's wife, the former Elizabeth Bouvier, came from a well-known Philadelphia family and was the widow of wealthy banker Francis A. Drexel.  Elizabeth had died in May 1884.

Several year later, The New York Times, in reporting on a "picturesque gathering" held in Philadelphia in honor of Joseph Dixon, explained that he "with his daughter, Miss Dixon, lived in New York for some years.  Mr. Dixon is one of the old-time Quakers, although his daughter, Miss Dixon, has joined the Roman Catholic Church."  A Philadelphia journalist added, "Mr. Dixon will be well remembered by many of the older members of society as one of the most popular men of his day and a foremost leader in things musical when things musical were more of a raison d'etre for social gatherings than things gastronomic, things sartorial, or things Pactolean."

The Dixons seem to have been the first residents of No. 404 to hob-nob with the socially elite.  On January 2, 1899, for instance, The New York Times mentioned, 'There have been several events of much interest to New Yorkers in Philadelphia this past week," and included among them the "entertainment for Mr. Joseph E. Dixon and Miss Lillie Dixon...given by Mrs. Andrews."

When Lillie's engagement was announced eight years later, her father had only recently died.  On October 20, 1907, The New York Times noted that she would be married to Augustus Noel in St. Francis Xavier's Church.  The article mentioned, "Miss Dixon has a large circle of friends," and noted she was the granddaughter of Michael Bouvier.  He was the Philadelphia cabinetmaker who fashioned furniture for customers like Joseph Bonaparte, King of Sicily and Spain (and was, incidentally, the great-great-grandfather of Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis).

Three weeks later, the newspaper added, "The wedding will be quiet, as the bride is in mourning.  She will have no bridal attendants."  Following the ceremony a wedding breakfast and informal reception were held in 404 West 20th Street.

With Lillie married, the Cushmans leased No. 404 to the Edward S. Van Zile family.  Van Zile was the author of a wide range of literature including fiction, non-fiction (including short stories and novels), war commentary, and a history of the early motion picture industry.  His family had come to America from Holland in the 17th century.  He graduated from Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut in 1884 and married Mary Bulkeley in 1887.  With them in the 20th Street house were daughters Mary, Harriet Lee and Sally.  A son, Edward Bukleley Van Zile, was a freshman at Trinity College in 1908.

The first of the Van Zile daughters to leave No. 404 was Mary, whose marriage to the Rev. Gerald A. Cunningham, senior curate of St. George's Church was celebrated in Trinity Chapel on April 29, 1912.   As had been the case following Lillie Dixon's ceremony, a wedding breakfast was held in the 20th Street house.

Circumstances surrounding the wedding of Sally to Dr. Walter F. Scott of Birmingham, Alabama the following year may have been a bit more strained.   The ceremony was held in the Van Zile home and was an understated affair.  The New York Times explained "The bride-elect in a Protestant and Dr. Scott a Catholic."

Edward S. Van Zile -- from the collection of the Library of Congress

By the time of the wedding Edward's mother, the former Sarah Melinda Perry, was living with the family.  The last of the Van Zile daughter weddings was that of Harriet, who married Donald L. Greenleft in Trinity Chapel in January 1917.

With her daughters grown and married Mary Van Zile turned her attention to politics and women's' rights.  By 1920 she became chairperson of the Women's Co-operative Anti-Tammany Committee, and made her opinions quite clear in an address at Cooper Union on November 9, 1921.  Among her comments was:

The men still want us to do the pink tea stunt.  They do not seem to realize that we are in politics, just as they are, for the purpose of getting votes for our party, and not to add luster to the social functions.

 

Mary Bulkeley Van Zile  New York Tribune, September 7, 1921 (copyright expired)

Edward Sims Van Zile died on May 29, 1931.  No. 404 was never divided into apartments and continued to be home to well-recognized residents.  Following the Van Ziles were William C. McNulty and his wife, Ann.  A nationally-known artist, Ann went professionally by her maiden name, Ann Brockman.

Ann Brockman found many of her subjects around the couple's summer home, like "Ketcholopolus Market, Rockport, Massachusetts" above.

Brockman had studied under Gifford Beal and John Sloan at the Art Students League and started her career as an illustrator; later specializing in water colors.  By the time the couple moved into the 20th Street house her works were displayed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Whitney Museum and the Chicago Art Institute.  The McNultys ran a summer art school in Rockport Massachusetts.  Late in 1942 Ann became ill and she died on March 30, 1943 in the Park East Hospital.  How long William remained at No. 404 is unclear, but he was gone by 1947 when newlyweds Edgar and Rosemary Villchurand two other couples pooled their money and bought the house for $6,000 (about $64,500 today).

Edgar, known as Eddie to friends, had served with the Army Air Corps in World War II.  He now turned to radio repair, opening a shop on West Fourth Street and custom-building sound systems.  Eventually his business would grow to Acoustic Research, Inc.

After the group of friends left West 20th Street, the house was home to Dr. Helen Huss Parkhurst.  A professor of philosophy since 1944, she retired from the faculty of Barnard College in 1952 after having served there since 1917.  By then she had published three books, the 1930 Beauty--An Interpretation of Art and the Imaginative Life; Cathedral: A Gothic Pilgrimage published in 1936; and her 1943 Great Books.  Dr. Parkhurst became ill in February 1959 and died two months later, on April 14 at the age of 71.

By the turn of the 21st century, West 20th Street was recognized as the oldest surviving residence in the Chelsea Historical District.  A 2015 real estate listing boasted that it "is filled with original details" and said "the moldings, staircase and handrail are all original."  While the surviving details were vintage, there was little left of the 1830 Federal elements.  Instead the remarkable veined marble mantels date from James Wells's Greek Revival re-do; and the handsome plasterwork from the Italianate updating most likely commissioned by Thomas Cotterell.

Handsome Greek Revival mantels coexist with later ceiling medallions.  photos via www.stribling.com

The buyer, financier and founder of the private equity firm Saffron Capital Advisors, Ltd. paid $6.5 million and immediately put his architect, William Suk, to work to plan a gut renovation.  He insisted that the house was structurally unsound and needed "significant renovation."  Community Board 4 disagreed and said in a letter to the Landmarks Preservation Commission that the planned work "is not renovation, this is demolition."

The letter said in part, "The current proposal would demolish the entire house except for its street facade and do further violence to this house and to the most historically sensitive and architecturally distinguished block in Chelsea."  The plans would double the size of the house, add additional stories, and eliminate the side yard where the wooden siding is still visible.

Although the plans were modified, a public hearing in June 2016 resulted in the Landmarks Preservation Commission sending Suk back to the drawing board to scale them back again.  A spokesperson said "Suggestions included reducing the height, maintaining the ridge line of the roof and setting back the top floor."

The architect promised to "fully restore the building's front facade [and rebuild] the interior frame to make it a safe and functional family resident" while preserving vintage interior elements like the mantels.

Chelsea residents and preservationists await the onset of construction and its results.

photographs by the author

The 1892 "Reilly" Flats - 312 West 21st Street

By the end of the Civil War the block of West 21st Street, between Eighth and Ninth Avenue, had filled with brick- and, in a few cases, brownstone-faced homes.   The owner of No. 312 suffered a personal tragedy in 1868, causing his servants to look for other work.  An advertisement in The New York Herald on June 23 read "Wanted--By a respectable colored man, a situation as coachman and groom; leaving on account of a death in the family and selling out; best city reference."

But by the end of the 1890s change had come to the block.  Apartment buildings were replacing many of the private homes.  Mary E. Kelly, who lived nearby, had been involved in real estate wheelings and dealings for about a decade.  She purchased No. 312 in 1892 and laid plans to replace it with a modern flat structure.

She commissioned the newly-formed architectural firm of Neville & Bagge to design the building.  Thomas P. Neville and George A. Bagge had gone into partnership that year.  The architects tossed historic purity aside in favor of eye-catching design; setting the stage for their many commissions to come..

Mary E. Kelly, like so many of the developers on the Upper West Side were doing, gave her project a name, The Reilly, most likely named after a close relative.   The completed building cost her in the neighborhood of $450,000 in today's dollars.  With just two apartments per floor, The Reilly was intended for middle-class residents.

The eclectic mix of styles married Romanesque Revival with neo-Grec, and added a splash of Renaissance Revival for good measure.  The stone first floor and basement levels alternated planar brownstone with rough cut banding.  Panels below the arched openings, a decorative band of palmettes, and leafy keystones kept carvers busy for months.

Barely visible in this shot, the quarter-round transoms above the door are filled with lovely acid-etched glass panels.

But most eye-catching at this level was the exuberant entrance atop the five-step stoop.  The chubby columns, sadly covered in pinkish paint today, may be polished granite.  Their elaborate and innovative capitals upheld an impressive arch, the spandrels of which were highly carved in Renaissance designs.  Romanesque Revival portrait keystones often portrayed pseudo-historic subjects like medieval warriors or gods.  But this one depicted a contemporary figure; suggesting the sitter may, in fact, be Reilly himself.  Chunky letters spelled out the building's name in the entablature directly above.

The second and fifth floors were pure Romanesque Revival, with arched openings, rough cut keystones and undressed stone banding.  Sandwiched between and separated by brick bandcourses, the third and fourth floors turned to neo-Grec; with dressed stone trim and flush geometric lintels that held hands by way of stone banding.  Most surprising was the central section which projected slightly (about the depth of a brick) and was unified by a shallow, classically-inspired triangular pediment--yet one more dip into the historic grab bag.

Among the first--and most colorful--residents was Fred Wilson (called a "versatile conversationalist) and his wife.  He had long been well-known in the minstrel circuit, entertaining music hall audiences.  So it was, perhaps, surprising decades earlier when President Abraham Lincoln chose him to be the United States Marshal for the American settlement at Shanghai in 1863.

Despite his Government post, Wilson did not give up his stage career.  Shanghai was a booming center of trade in munitions, provisions, tea, silk and opium and, therefore, was filled with Westerners.  Visiting troupes from American and European circuses--like George W. B. Lewis's Australian Hippodrome--came and went.  And Wilson took those opportunities to sing and perform.

He had arrived in Shanghai at a frightful time.  The Taiping Rebellion, a massive civil war in China, was still playing out.  His experiences in Shanghai and in the rebellion would add another page to his resume--author.

Now Wilson and his wife moved into The Reilly.  He had returned to the stage and in 1893 his celebrity was acknowledged when the management of the new Eldorado Amusement Park in Weehawken, New Jersey, included him in the list of theatrical luminaries invited to witness "the King Solomon spectacle from the vast amphitheatre" there, as reported in The New York Times on July 25.

The Times article noted "Knowing well themselves the value of applause, the actors were lavish in bestowing it and in manifesting heartily in every way their appreciation of the picturesque performance.  This naturally had its effect, and a more beautiful and more animated representation of the gorgeous spectacle than was presented last night has not been seen at Eldorado."

When war broke out between Japan and China in July 1894, Wilson read the newspaper accounts with understandable interest.   As reports came in that the Chinese were making "triumphant progress," as described by The Evening World on August 30, he balked; essentially calling them fake news, to use today's terms.

The World ran the headline "Doesn't Believe The News" and quoted Wilson as saying "I expect the Japanese to march upon and capture Pekin."  He scoffed at the Chinese military leadership, saying "Their own Mandarin officers will run as promptly and as hard as the commonest coolie trooper."  And referring to what newspapers called "China's formidable hordes of cavalry," he said "This is chiefly composed of men on mules and donkeys.  The cavalryman perches on a broad pad upon the donkey's back and is a ridiculous and almost helpless object."

Wilson did not hold back his obvious disdain for the Chinese fighters, calling the Japanese "high-spirited, courteous, grave and progressive men" and adding "one of them is good for a half dozen Chinamen."

In the meantime, Wilson's wife paid attention to matters closer to home.  While the couple's financial circumstances did not allow her to give munificently to charities, she apparently did her best.  In 1895 she donated "one package of picture cards and one blanket" to the New York Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.

Another interesting resident at the time was Edward McPhillips who lived here with his wife and three children.  A Civil War veteran and former member of the Metropolitan Police, he had retired from the force in 1887 to take the post of associate detective in the upscale Fifth Avenue Hotel.  Three years later he was promoted to chief detective.  When the position of Head Porter became available, he resigned as chief detective and took that job.

While the position of Head Porter might initially seem a step down; in fact the close interaction with the wealthy businessmen, politicians and military bigwigs often resulted in generous tips.  The Times noted that "Mr. McPhillips was popular with the public, and enjoyed an extensive acquaintance with the prominent guests of the hotel."

McPhillips's wife prepared Thanksgiving dinner in 1895 and the holiday was celebrated quietly.   Then, not long after the meal was over McPhillips suffered a fatal heart attack.  On Sunday afternoon, Decmber 1 his funeral was held in his apartment.  Because he was an active Mason, was a member the Lafayette Post of the Grand Army of the Republic, and a former policeman, his was an impressive service.

The Reilly continued to be home to working class residents in the early years of the 20th century.  One was Peter Rooney, who was headed home from upstate on the Croton Local train on the afternoon of October 25 1903.  As it pulled into Grand Central Station around 5:15, the platform was packed.  Rooney decided not to wait for the train to come to a complete halt.

The New York Times reported "He was standing on the steps of the second car while the train was steaming into the station, and, according to a number of railroad employes, jumped from the train before it came to a full stop."  Rooney's foot slipped and he fell backwards between the cars.

Bystanders screamed to the engineer, but it was too late.  The newspaper wrote in unnecessarily vivid wording that he "was ground to pieces."  The article ended saying "Immediately following the killing of the man there was excitement and confusion in the depot.  Several women fainted, and had to be carried to the waiting room, while a number of men staggered from the station."

Most residents at the turn of the century were hard-working and respectable.  One, by the name of Kropp, was looking for work in October 1904.  Her ad in the New-York Tribune read "Cook--Protestant woman as good cook; city personal reference; no objection to the country."  (Her specifying that her references were "personal" rather than professional may hint that she was just starting out making her own money--perhaps because the death of her husband.)    Both a man named Delaney and his wife were out of work in 1909 when an ad read "Couple--Coachman and cook; first class; best references."

Peter Quinn was an ice delivery man during the Depression years.  Every week he and other drivers would exchange their weekly paychecks for cash at the Icemen's Welfare Association a block away from The Reilly at No. 469 West 21st Street.   He was there with nine others around 11 a.m. on October 16, 1930 when two gunmen rushed in.

They forced the guard, William Coscia, inside and ordered everyone into a rear room.   They promised that no one would be hurt if they kept quiet.  Apparently Peter Quinn did not believe them.  One of the thugs fired a shot into his left leg.

After stuffing all the cash from the office into their pockets, the robbers reemphasized their warning to keep quiet by firing two more shots.  One struck the wall and the other hit 22-year old John Pisapias in the leg.  They then fled towards Tenth Avenue and disappeared.

Quinn and the other injured man were taken to Bellevue Hospital where they recovered.  Their pay, however, was not.

Before the addition of the fire escapes, the slightly-projecting central section was evident, seen here in 1920.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Although the block was far from upscale throughout the 20th century, the residents of The Reilly remained law-abiding and respectable.   When the Greek Independence Day parade was held in 1941, celebrating that country's 100th year of independence, Irene Chalduris was one of three young women dressed as allied countries--the United States, Greece and Great Britain.  Irene was honored as the U.S.

Irene Chalduris marched in stars and stripes (left).  photo by The New York Times, March 24, 1941

Another Irene in the building, Irene Yankou, gave up her beloved pet dog Rocky for the war effort a few years later.  When the Government sought scout dogs to serve on the front lines as members of the Army K-9 Corps, Irene donated Rocky.   He and his comrades were trained to detect the presence of the enemy.  He was among the first War Dog Detachment to see service in the Southwest Pacific theater.  He went ashore with the first assault waves in the landing on Cape Gloucester, New Guinea.

Sadly, Rocky would not return to West 20th Street.  He was killed in action.  On February 5, 1945 Irene accepted his citation for outstanding performance of duty in the Southwest Pacific from Major General E. B. Gregory, Quartermaster General.

How the bases of the columns became so severely damaged is puzzling.  Before the ill-advised slathering of paint, the contrast in materials was strikingly evident.

Today there are still just ten apartments in the building.  The stonework of the first floor has been heavily abused; yet the original doors and the delicate etched glass transom panels survive.  Easily overlooked, the architecturally eccentric building--one of the first works by Neville & Bagge--holds a deceptively fascinating history.

photographs by the author