Rentz & Lange's 1889 257 West 10th Street

In 1889 Frank Schaefler commissioned architects Rentz & Lange to design a sprawling flat project at Nos. 519 through 525 Hudson Street.  Simultaneously, he gave them an additional job--designing a fifth, separate tenement around the corner at No. 257 West 10th Street.  Separated from by a narrow light well, its architectural DNA proved it was a near relative of the Hudson Street flats; but Rentz & Lange gave it special touches and its own personality.

Five stories tall above a basement level, it was faced in beige brick and trimmed in limestone, brownstone and terra cotta.  Renaissance Revival style elements--tympani carved in stone above the third floor openings and molded in terra cotta above the fourth, for instance--coexisted with Queen Anne details, most notably the aggressive pressed metal cornice with its sunburst design.

Snarling faces stare out from the fourth floor tympani.  A pretty terra cotta bandcourse runs below the third floor.  The intricately-carved half-bowls may have once included small cast iron railings

The handsome architectural details did not hide the fact that No. 257 was, in fact, a tenement.  The residents of this section of Greenwich Village were for the most part blue collar workers and increasingly immigrant newcomers.  The crowded conditions of tenement buildings were breeding grounds for communicable diseases like tuberculosis and small pox.  There mere rumor of the dreaded diseases sent neighbors into panic and the health department into action.

On December 15, 1900 The New York Times ran the headline "Smallpox Still Spreading" and reported on two new cases.  One was 53-year old Louise Temple who lived at No. 257 West 10th Street.  "Disinfectors and vaccinators were at once sent into the neighborhood," said the article.

Like all other victims, Louise was taken away to the Smallpox Hospital on North Brother Island.  Her apartment was fumigated and her family received vaccinations.  A team of "vaccinators" went door-to-door.  Their challenge was that immigrant families, confused and wary about what was going on, distrusted the shots.  The Chief of the Bureau of Contagious Diseases, Dr. Blauvelt, however, did not make them mandatory.  The Times said, nonetheless, "The department keeps right on vaccinating at the rate of something more than 1,000 a day."

Just over a week later, on Christmas Eve, the Health Department reported that another smallpox case had been discovered in No. 257--Louise Temple's seven-year-old daughter, Jennie.  By now Dr. Blavelt, while still insisting that the vaccinations were voluntary, had stepped up his game.  In the past 48 hours his crew had vaccinated an estimated 4500 persons.

"He naively admitted that the sight of the policemen's night sticks might have been something of a persuader, but still, when it comes to the point, nobody need be vaccinated unless he or she wises," said The New York Times.

Well executed portrait keystones grace the first floor openings.

By 1922 the Keating family lived in the building.  At the time The Evening World ran a full-page contest every day entitled "What Did You See To-Day?"  Promoted as the "Evening World Page of Bright, Unusual Happenings," readers vied for cash prizes.  The First Prize was $25, Second was $10, and Third Prize earned the winner $5.  The top daily prize in 1922 was attractive--equal to about $365 today.

And Timothy Keating set out to land one of those prizes.  On August 31 1922 his submission appeared.

I saw more than 2,000 Help Wanted advertisements in the morning edition of The World.  Males, 1353; females, 653.

Two weeks later he tried again:

One of my friends gave my four-year-old son a small sailboat last night and I promised to take him to Central Park to sail it.  Aroused by a noise at 3 o'clock this morning, I found Junior clad in his pajamas and sailor hat and carrying the boat.  'Come on, daddy,' said he.  'Ain't you going to take me to the park?'  It took some persuasion to convince him it was too early, but presently he was asleep again in his crib, the boat hugged to his breast.

Timothy Keating did not give up.  He tried another story the following month:

The street is being paved at Bank and Hudson Streets and the stones are piled on the edge of the sidewalk alongside a post on which there is a letter box.  I saw a little girl with a letter in her hand stand a minute under the box, gazing at the mail slot, which was far above her head.  Then she began taking stones from the pile and arranging them in a pile of her own against the post.  When she had made a sufficiently high mound she climbed up on it, put her letter in the box and climbed down.  What was more remarkable was that she afterward demolished one pile she had built, returning to their original places the stones she had used.

Finally Keating was sent one of the $2 checks for the "ten next best stories."  Apparently satisfied, Keating's stories abruptly stopped.

The ferocity of the lions' heads within the foliate-carved entrance brackets is lightened by the fruit--possibly pears--they hold in their mouths.  The arched transom once allowed sunlight into the entrance hall.

No. 257 played a role in a terrifying hold-up on September 24, 1937.  Workers were paid in cash in the first half of the 20th century, making the employee who carried the payroll from the bank to the office once a week a target for criminals.  That afternoon 31-year old Henry Margolin headed back to the Benrus Watch Company on Hudson Street with $8,600 in a black zippered bag.  He took a cab to reduce the risk of being robbed.

But he was followed.  When the taxi stopped at a red light at Houston and Hudson Streets, two gunmen commandeered the vehicle.  One jumped into the back seat and pointed his gun at Margolin.  The other forced the 25-year-old driver Anthony Santora, to the floor and took over the controls.

The driver pulled up at No. 257 West 10th Street.  Margolin was taken to the second floor at gunpoint. The New York Times reported that the gunman "left him there after warning him not to move for five minutes."   The bandits then drove three blocks east, to Seventh Avenue, where they jumped out "after warning the taxi drive not to follow them as they dashed around a corner."  The two made off with a considerable haul--in the neighborhood of $147,000 today.

The layout of this apartment hints at its tenement roots. via streeteasy. com  

Perhaps because of its unusual and narrow proportions, the building retains the same 18 apartments and floor plans it did in 1889.  The interior details were, for the most part, lost during 20th century updating of the apartments.

An unfortunate replacement doorway fills the original, arched opening under a paneled keystone.

photographs by the author

The Lenox Presbyterian Church (Grace Congregational) 318-310 West 139th Street

On June 18, 1893 an article in the New-York Tribune began "One of the pleasantest and most rapidly growing parts of the city of New-York is west of Seventh-ave., between One-hundred-and-thirty-fifth and One-hundred-and-forty-fifth sts...It is largely inhabited by families who are always advancing in everything that is good for the mind and the soul.  This may account for the rapid growth of the Lenox Presbyterian Church."

Three years earlier the Rev. W. A. Halsey and William M. Waite had opened a Sunday school on Eighth Avenue (now Frederick Douglass Boulevard) near 137th Street.  It served 24 residents.  Within four months, on February 27, 1891, the growing group moved to larger quarters.  By the end of the year, with a congregation now numbering 37, the New York Presbytery had approved the formal formation of a new congregation, the Lenox Presbyterian Church with Rev. David G. Smith as its interim pastor.

So successful was the newly-organized church that on January 7, 1892 the trustees purchased the 140-foot wide plot at Nos. 318-310 West 139th Street.  Architect Joseph Ireland received the commission and construction commenced within a few months.  

Children from Sunday schools city-wide were responsible for contributing $3,500 of the $12,000 cost of the building.  According to The New York Times, 4,673 children contributed their nickels and dimes.  The names of every one of them were placed in the cornerstone.

Construction was completed in December 1892.  Ireland had produced a rather humble, brick-faced church the design of which drew mostly from the Romanesque Revival style.  Perhaps because of budget restraints, some of the elements that appeared in Ireland's renderings never made it to the finished church.  Most notable were the projecting quoins that would have framed the arched openings.

Ireland's original designs called for slightly more robust ornament.  New-York Tribune, January 9, 1893 (copyright expired)

Stair-stepped brick corbels ran below the gable edge, terminating in unusual flared gable springs on either side.  Ireland gave a brief nod to the Queen Anne style by including a panel of terra cotta tiles in the form of flowers below the large central stained glass window.  And a solitary Gothic Revival detail, a decorative crocket, appeared at the peak of the gable. 

Dedication ceremonies took place on January 8, 1893.  According to the New-York Tribune, "Rev. Dr. John Hall, of the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, preached a most interesting dedicatory service."  The New York Times deemed the church "a neat-looking structure of red brick." 

A few weeks later, on the evening of February 4, the new pastor was elected.  The Rev. Bryce K. Douglass was the pastor of the Presbyterian church at Watkins, New York.  He had preached in the new church the past two Sundays "and has given great satisfaction," reported the New-York Tribune.  Once settled in, Douglass was given a glittering reception on the evening of May 2.  In reporting on the event, the New-York Tribune explained he had "recently been installed in the pastorate of this new and flourishing congregation."

As with almost all churches, lectures were somewhat regular occurrences on weekday evenings.  The Rev. Michael Nardi spoke here on July 14, 1897, for instance.  The Tribune described him as "the Italian evangelist who has labored so effectively among his own countrymen" and said he would "give some account of his conversion and work."  And on June 29, 1902 the Rev. Dr. W. A. P. Martin spoke on "The Progress of the Gospel in China."

The Lenox Presbyterian Church had outgrown its little brick building within a decade of its dedication  On February 10, 1904 The Sun reported "The New York Presbytery has sold the Lenox Presbyterian Church property, at Nos. 308 and 310 West 139th street...for $40,000.  A new church will be built at St. Nicholas avenue and 141st street."

The new owner was the Swedish Evangelical Immanuel Church.  The congregation would remain here until 1923.  By then the demographics of the neighborhood had radically changed.   Harlem had become the center of New York's Black population.  The church building was sold to Grace Congregational Church, formally organized in 1921.

The renovations that were made were indicative of the spirit of the congregation and its pastor Rev. Dr. Alexander C. Garner.  A kindergarten was installed in the basement, a day nursery shared the first floor with the worship space, and on the second floor was now an "employment agency connected with the church," according to Department of Buildings documents.  The church day nursery was the first in Harlem and allowed mothers the ability to hold down a day job.

This photo taken not long after Grace Congregational took over is rather somber. from the Avery Classics Collection of Columbia University Libraries. 

Garner also welcomed members of the theatrical profession.  It earned the church the nickname the "Church of the Actors."  

In what today would be seen as blatantly racist article, The New York Times informed its readers of the changes in the Harlem neighborhood on March 1, 1925.  Entitled "Negro City in Harlem is a Race Capital" it began "Black fingers whipping furiously over the white keys, beating out cascades of jazz; black bodies swaying rhythmically as their owners blow or beat or pluck the grotesque instruments of the band; on the dancing floor throngs, black and white, gliding, halting, swinging back in time to the music--this is the Harlem of the cabarets, jazz capital of the world."  In enumerating the changes, the article went on to note "The Grace Congregational Church of Harlem has taken over the building of a Swedish congregation west of Eighty Avenue."

It was exactly the sort of attitude the leaders of Grace Congregational Church sought to correct.  In August 1927 the church was the venue the Fourth Pan-African Congress.  On its second day Mrs. Helen Curtis, widow of the former American Minister to Liberia spoke on "African Missions."  She may not have been prepared for the discussion that followed.  The Times reported "white missionaries were criticized for their allegedly prejudiced attitude toward negro religious workers."

Later that week Robert W. Bagnall, director of agencies for the NAACP spoke "of the inadequate opportunities offered to the negro for education in the United States, especially in the South," according to The Times on August 25.

Among the actors who worshiped here at the time was Charles Wesley Hill.  He had started his career in medicine shows and "Tom" shows (skits and plays based on Uncle Tom's Cabin); and was an attraction in farm towns, portrayed as a Kickapoo Indian, according to The New York Times years later.

He got his break after a stint in vaudeville when he got roles in the 1921 Broadway musical Shuffle Along with music by Eubie Blake, and in the 1924 Runnin' Wild.  In 1930 he landed the distinctive role of the angel Gabriel in The Green Pastures.  The New York Times said "His performance in a major role was been acclaimed as one of the finest in the play."

Hill was crossing Eighth Avenue at 127th Street on the morning of December 10, 1930 when he was struck by a taxicab and killed.  The cast choir of The Green Pastures sang at his funeral in Grace Congregational Church.

A surprising effort to erase racial prejudice at an early age was devised in the summer of 1946.  Twenty-two children from Grace Congregational were sent to Quincy, Massachusetts where each would stay with a white family for a two-week visit.  The experiment was so successful that it was repeated, in reverse, the following year.

The photographer accidentally reversed the negative when he printed this 1940 shot, resulting in the entrance being on the wrong side.  Grace Congregational Church had painted the facade white.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

On July 15, 1947 fourteen girls a one boy arrived in Harlem.  The Times remarked "To the pastors of the two churches the project was 'an attempt to show the folly of racial intolerance.'"  To the children, however, it was just fun.  For one thing, they were reunited with the friends they had made the summer before.  "There were squeals, as always when children have been long separated," said the article.  Among the activities planned were a boat excursion to Bear Mountain for a picnic, visiting the Bronx Zoo and the Statue of Liberty and a trip to the United Nations headquarters at Lake Success.

There was, of course, widespread speculation about the advisability of the project.  One reporter asked Effie C. Waddell of the Quincy Family Welfare Society who chaperoned the group what the children thought about the mixing of races.

"What are these children thinking?  Why they do not even think about it.  They are just having a good time with their friends, and they enjoy it."

Another funeral to capture press attention was that of 69-year old James H. Williams who died on May 4, 1948.  For four decades he had been the chief attendant of the Red Caps in Grand Central Terminal.  Williams was a well-recognized figure who always wore a red carnation in his buttonhole.  The Times remarked "he met scores of famous actors and actresses, holders of high office, distinguished citizens of all sorts, of all nations."  Among those who knew Williams well was Alfred E. Smith "whom the Chief had known since the former Governor of the state was Sheriff of New York County."

In the turbulent 1960's the pastor of Grace Congregational, Rev. W. Sterling Cary, faced racism and discrimination head on.  As the moderator of a conference of Congregational churches, on August 26, 1962 he charged "that Negroes here still faced discrimination in appointment to responsible positions" within the city.  He also pointed out that seminaries "steadfastly deny to Negro scholars the right to teach," as reported by The New York Times.

"America is the only land in the world where a large segment of the population is forced to continuously fight, struggle and labor for the blessings of citizenship.  The fact that Negroes must engage in boycotts, sit-ins, and freedom rides--all of this is a sorry condemnation of the American way of life."

When the Citywide Committee for Integrated Schools fought to integrate New York City schools in 1964, Cary was among the 20 Harlem ministers who voted to boycott the schools on February 3.  And when he addressed a convention of 500 ministers and laymen of the 2-million-member United Church of Christ on January 30, 1966 regarding racial injustice in the South, Cary said in part that that public opinion for civil rights must be mobilized "without the help of Klansmen, insane bigoted mobs or mentally sick public officials or the explosive eruptions of a riot."

Following his departure from Grace Congregational, incidentally, on December 7, 1972 Rev. W. Sterling Cary was elected president of the National Council of Churches, the first Black man to hold that office.

Grace Congregational Church continues to be a vital force in the Harlem community.  Music is a major part of its program.  Other than an unfortunate set of replacement doors, little has changed outwardly to its charming brick and brownstone church.

photographs by the author

The Henry Clarke Coe House - 8 West 76th Street

In 1899, the year that developer James Carlew was completing his seven lavish Beaux-Arts style rowhouses at Nos. 12 through 16 West 76th Street, Cornelius W. Luyster added to the row.  He commissioned architect John H. Duncan to design two equally-impressive residences at Nos. 8 and 10.

Completed in 1900, the opulent Beaux Arts style homes shared elements--the seamless flow of the rustication of the first three floors, for instance--while steadfastly maintaining their own personalities.  Each was 25-feet wide and five stories tall above the basement level and faced in limestone.  A five-step stoop led to the entrance of No. 8.  Its French-grilled double doors sat below a fantastic hood that epitomized Parisian Belle Epoch architecture.   The rustication of the second floor wrapped the frames of the openings, creating the effect of quoins.  Elaborately carved portrait keystones graced the windows.  The protruding, angled bay of the third floor created a balcony at the fourth; and the fifth floor took the form of a high mansard with a prominent dormer.

The pair was harmoniously similar, but distinctive.

Luyster sold No. 10 on April 12, 1900 to Frederick H. and Arabella Parks.  Just three days later an advertisement in the New-York Daily Tribune was entitled "One Remains Unsold!" and described No. 8 as being "equal in construction and fineness of finish to any houses offered for sale."

It would be three months before Luyster found a buyer; but in July he sold it to Dr. Henry Clarke Coe for $85,000--a significant $2.62 million today.

Coe and his wife, the former Sara Livingston Worden, had three sons, Arthur Paul, Fordyce Barker, and Henry, Jr.  Born in Cincinnati on February 21, 1854, Coe was descended from an old New England family who first settled in the mid-17th century.  Coe had been a classmate in preparatory school with William Howard Taft.  Interestingly, both men then entered Yale University and graduated in 1878.  By the time Coe purchased No. 8 he was chief surgeon of the General Memorial Hospital, consulting surgeon of the Women's Hospital, and Professor of Gynecology at Bellevue Medical College.  A prolific author, he wrote Clinical Gynecology, as well as scientific papers.  His non-medical articles and poems were published in literary magazines.

Like her husband, Sara came from a colonial Massachusetts family.  When they moved into the 76th Street house she was president of the National Society of New England Women.  A writer and lecturer, as well, she was a member of the League of Women Writers, the Writers Guild and the League of American Women.  The New York Times described her as "one of the social leaders of the city."

The family had a staff of seven, two of whom--the butler and chef--were Japanese.  A writer from The New York Times asked Sara about that in 1900.   Her reply filled two columns of the newspaper, in which she said in part "I have found from my own experience that Japanese servants are very satisfactory, and I have a friend who has employed them for a long time who is equally well satisfied.  They are willing to do all kinds of work, and they do all kinds equally well."  

She cautioned, however, that the "Japanese service is not cheap.  Any Japanese going out to service expects to get $25 a month, no matter what he does, and a chef will have from $35 to $50.  On a yacht a man will get from $60 to $100.  But they are good workers, careful and conscientious, and everything they do is well done."  The salary earned by the Coe's Japanese chef at the time would equal about $1,230 per month today.

The Coes' country home, Pinehurst, was in Bayshore, Long Island.  Their elevated social status was reflected decades later in 1936 when both The New York Times and the New York Evening Post recalled "Mrs. Coe and her husband were hosts in their New York house to King Edward VII when he visited this country as the Prince of Wales."  The Times specifically noted the West 76th Street address.  The report is puzzling, since Edward took the throne in January 1901 and does not seem to have been in America in 1900. 

The family received a significant scare on June 2, 1903.  Arthur's nurse took the five-year-old to Central Park for an outing.  He was playing on the steps of the Marble Arch (now gone) when, according to the New-York Daily Tribune, he "fell to the stone flagging.  The fall was not more than two and a half or three feet, but so squarely did the lad strike on his head that an ambulance surgeon said he received a compound fracture of the skull."

5-year old Arthur Paul Coe fell from these steps, fracturing his skull.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

A fractured skull was almost always fatal, but happily the boy recovered.

Henry and Sarah planned a trip to Philadelphia on April 6, 1911.  On the previous afternoon he attended the circus in Madison Square Garden, and "got chilled by the rain" when he left, according to The New York Times.  Around 3:00 the following morning he experienced pain in his right side.  At 7:00 he told Sara he would not be going with her and then called Dr. George W. Jarman who lived on the block.  

On April 11 The New York Times reported that Coe "is convalescing after an operation for [appendicitis] in Miss O'Brien's Sanitarium in West Seventy-fourth Street...He diagnosed the disease himself, and had he not done it so quickly and acted so promptly he might not have been alive to-day."

Entertainments in the Coe house often involved music.  Of particular note was the "reception with music" as described by The Sun, "in honor of Mme. Eugen Ysaye, wife of the distinguished violinist" on April 19, 1913.    The performances that night were stellar, including a Mendelssohn quartet for strings played that included famed violinist Arnold Volpe, and songs by Maurice Farkoa.

The Coes apparently had taken steps not to overlook any of its multi-national guests.  The Sun said "The house was handsomely decorated with palms and spring flowers and in the music room were hung American, Belgian, French and German flags."  The socially elite couples who danced after supper bore names like Townsend, Brokaw, Havemeyer, Dimock and Kahn.

The first of the Coe boys to marry was Henry, Jr.  By the day of his wedding to Helen Virginia Ainslie on June 3, 1914, he was a salesman with the Standard Oil Company and was living and working in Brookline, Massachusetts.  It was a socially notable event.

The Sun, February 8, 1915, (copyright expired)

A few months later, on  Saturday morning, January 30, 1915, Henry kissed Helen, who was several months pregnant, goodbye.  And he then promptly disappeared.

The following week The New York Times quoted Dr. Coe as saying "Everything points to the theory that my son has met with foul play.  I am almost certain that my son has been murdered or is being held for ransom in Boston."  He added "Mrs. Coe, Jr. is bearing up wonderfully under the strain."

Shortly afterward the Coes offered a $250 reward and retained the Harry Burns Detective Agency.  A world-wide search was initiated.  In the meantime, on March 20 Helen gave birth to a baby girl.  Investigators soon discarded the theory of foul play and offered that "he had become mentally unbalanced because of worry over the condition of his wife."

The photographs and descriptions of the 23-year-old which were wired to newspapers and police stations everywhere  finally produced a hit in April.  On May 3 a 150-word telegram arrived at No. 8 West 76th Street sent by a Burns detective from Fairbanks, Alaska.  It said, in short, that Henry had been found, and "was in good health and engaged in the hardware business," according to The New York Times.

Helen Coe on her wedding day.  The Sun, February 8, 1915, (copyright expired)

Dr. Coe told reporters he was happy to have received the news, "However, I think his mind is clouded."  Others were not so sure.  The New-York Tribune reported "The Henry Clark Coe, jr. son of Dr. Henry Clark Coe, of 8 West Seventy-sixth Street...will not return to his young wife and baby in Brookline is the belief of those well acquainted with young Mrs. Coe's parents."  And Robert Burns, the detective who found Coe, seemed to be hedging for time.  "If we brought him back right now we fear that the shock would have a serious effect on his mind," he told reporters.  

If Coe had intended to leave his wife, he changed his mind once discovered.  On June 13 The Sun reported that he "has recovered his mental faculties and is now anxious to have his wife and baby join him."

Sara and Henry had no sooner gotten over that problem than Fordyce drew their names into unwanted publicity.  He was attending Columbia University and on August 2 attended a gathering of students at an inn near Yonkers.  That night, having had much to drink, he was apprehended in the Yonkers rail yard of the New York Central Railway.  He was charged with "malicious mischief in tampering with switchlocks and removing signal lights...thereby endangering the lives of passengers."  Sara went to the police station and was given overnight custody.

The following morning Dr. Coe and his delinquent son appeared before Judge Madden in court.  Young Coe managed to get a suspended sentence on his father's "promise that he would be kept out of mischief in the future."  Dr. Coe explained that his son "showed a tendency to irresponsibility" and attributed the vandalism to "a school-boy prank."  One can imagine the father-and-son discussion that followed in private.

When World War I broke out Sara was left at home alone.  All three of her sons and her husband went off to war.  Dr. Coe spent the autumn of 1917 at the American Hospital in Winchester, England, and then was sent to the front in France, serving with the Evacuation Hospital No. 1 and then with Mobile Hospital No. 3.   He was behind the lines and tended wounded soldiers in several battles.  He received the Meritorious Service Citation and the Medal of the Purple Heart for his service.  Henry, Jr. and Arthur were awarded the Croix de Guerre.

In the meantime, Sara did her part.  On February 10, 1917 The New York Times reported that she had organized the American Defense Club.  Described by Sara as a "preparedness plan, it was "a women's rifle corps, with a shooting gallery, described as a 'studio,' where the women may go for practice shooting."

In December 1918 the Coes sold No. 8.  The title had been in Sara's name and The Times noted that she donated "the proceeds from the sale of her New York residence to service organizations."

On December 16 The Sun reported that the title had been transferred the day before to "Dorothy F. Livermore, bride of Jesse Livermore, who purchased the house as a wedding gift for his wife."  A well-known stock broker, Jesse L. Livermore had obtained a divorce from his wife of 17 years, the former Netit Jordan, two months earlier.  He married the 23-year old former Ziegfeld Follies showgirl, Dorothea, "Dorothy," Fox Wendt on December 2.

In his 2001 book Jesse Livermore: World's Greatest Stock Trader, Richard Smitten describes the day Jesse first took Dorothy into the 76th Street house.

It was filled with the best of the best: beautiful rugs from Persia, the finest Wedgwood dishes, and glistening crystal glasses.  The works of great artists hung on every wall.  The bedrooms were sumptuous.

Their lives at No. 8 were not without some upheaval.  In December 1923 Jesse was embroiled in the Teapot Dome Scandal.  He avoided going to his office for fear of being served with a Federal subpoena, but when he opened the door of his house on December 19 he came face-to-face with Federal deputy Joseph Patrina.  The New York Evening Post reported "When Mr. Livermore was handed the paper he asked 'What does forthwith mean?'  'Next train out,' replied the deputy marshal.  Mr. Livermore turned and stepped into his motor car without comment."

The Livermores' country home was at Great Neck, Long Island.  In the spring of 1925 an addition to the main house was being completed.  On the evening of Thursday, April 9, Livermore motored out to inspect the progress.  But in the dim lighting he did not notice that a stairway had not yet been installed and he plunged 20 feet, breaking his right arm and several ribs.

The Sun reported that he "was taken in an automobile to his New York residence where an X-ray expert, a bone specialist and nurses were summoned.  The article noted he "is confined to his home."

The next resident of No. 8 was writer Mark Barron.  At the time he was a Broadway columnist for the Herald Tribune.  His 1928 Broadway play Gentlemen of the Press, written in collaboration with Ward Morehouse, was made into a Hollywood movie.  Like Dr. Henry Coe had been, he was afflicted with appendicitis in 1930.  The New York Sun noted on September 11 that he "is recuperating from appendicitis at his town house, 8 West Seventy-sixth street."

In 1937 architect H. P. Jaenike was hired to convert the former residence to a total of 10 apartments.  Among the first tenants was 19-year old blues singer Jane Williams, here in 1938.

Jane Williams looked much older than her 19 years - New York Post, March 28, 1938 

Jane's apartment was the scene of an ugly lovers' quarrel that year that sparked a salacious court case.   A singer in the Paradise Club and the Hollywood Club, she had caught the attention of 35-year old stock broker Bert Golub.  She told a judge on March 27 that he "barraged her with flowers, candy and telegrams."  But after she discovered he was married she refused to see him.  With his attentions unrequited, "he then broke into her apartment at 8 West Seventy-sixth Street and barraged her with knuckles," reported the New York Evening Post.

Golub's story was different.  In an article entitled "Blues Singer and Broker Wash Their Linen in Court," the Post reported that Golub "said that she filched his bankroll one night in a hotel room."  Golub's testimony was so colorful that he was admonished by Magistrate Overton Harris for his "mud-slinging."

In 1940 Mieczyslaw Horszowski arrived in New York from Europe and moved into an apartment at No. 8.  The Polish-born pianist had given a performance of Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 1 in Warsaw in 1901 at the age of nine.  He now performed with the NBC Symphony Orchestra under Arturo Toscanini.

Also living here in the early 1940's was composer of contemporary classical music Leon Kirchner.  He would go on to win the Pulitzer Prize for his String Quartet No. 3 in 1967.  

The exterior of the house has survived relatively unchanged on the architecturally significant block of the Upper West Side since 1900.

photographs by the author

The Lost James Speyer Mansion - 1058 Fifth Avenue

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

Philip Speyer was a descendant of a distinguished German banking family.  He immigrated to the United States from Frankfurt in 1837 and founded the banking firm of Philip Speyer & Co. in 1845.  Upon his death in 1876 the firm's name was changed to Speyer & Co., and in 1899 Philip's nephew, 38-year old James Speyer, became its senior partner.

James was born in America in 1861.  The 1896 marriage of the Jewish millionaire to Ellin Prince Lowery was a bit surprising since the bride was a Christian.  The religious differences caused a few social problems since, for instance, there were many fashionable places where Ellen was welcome but her husband was not.  Nevertheless, the marriage was a successful and loving one.

James Speyer - Men Who Are Making America, 1917 (copyright expired)

The couple was living at No. 207 Madison Avenue in the upscale Murray Hill neighborhood in 1911.  But the increasing commercialization of the avenue may have prompted them to relocate.  On May 13 that year the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported "James Speyer, the banker...has commissioned Architect Horace Trumbauer of Philadelphia, to design plans for a new residence...at the southeast corner of 5th av and 87th st."

The Speyers' choice of Trumbauer may have been prompted by his James B. Duke mansion rising on the opposite corner of Fifth Avenue and 78th Street.  Its stately mid-18th century French Classical architecture bespoke wealth and dignity.

Oddly enough, Speyer seems to have been in no rush to get construction started.  On December 2 the general contracts had still not been awarded, although the Record & Guide reported "It was stated on Friday that the contract had practically been signed."

Although Trumbauer was credited with designing the Speyer house, according to Dreck Spurlock Winson in his Julian Abele: Architect and the Beaux Arts, it was actually Trumbauer's senior designer, Julian Abele who designed the mansion.  He was among the most formally educated architects in America in the Beaux Arts and Louis XIV styles.  But because he was Black he would not begin to receive the credit he deserved for masterpieces like the Speyer and Duke houses until decades later.

Abele created a Louis XIV-style palace 75-feet wide on Fifth Avenue that stretched 110 feet down the side street.  The deep light moat which provided light and ventilation to the basement level was protected by a substantial stone wall.  The rusticated first floor was pierced by a regimented row of arched openings.  The second floor was fronted by a full-width balcony on the Fifth Avenue front, and another at the slightly protruding three-bay mid-section on 78th Street.  Two-story pilasters united the second and third floors.  Atop the stone cornice a stone balustrade hid the fourth floor, a proportion-preserving deception also used in the Duke mansion.

The 78th Street elevation was no less impressive than the front.  The fourth floor can be clearly seen in this view.  photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Architect and society interior decorator Ogden Codman, Jr. was commissioned to create the interiors.  At a time when millionaires were creating a collection of historic vignettes within their mansions--a Gothic room, a Japanese room, an Adam room, for instance--Codman for the most part stayed true to the Louis XIV period.  The rooms' enameled paneling touched with gold, wall and ceiling frescoes, and tapestried insets created a perfectly French ambiance.

The airy entrance hall rose two stories. 

 Flooded by light from above, the second floor hallway with its fountain and profusion of plants had a conservatory atmosphere.  photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

On the walls was "one of the largest and most valuable private art collections in any American home," according to the New York Herald.  The Speyers' paintings, it said "include many old masters, including several find specimens of Rembrandt.  The English and Barbizon schools also are largely represented, as are the best known of American paintings."  Among those were a three-quarters length portrait of George Washington by Gilbert Stuart.  There were also ancient Grecian and Roman bronzes and modern works by sculptors like Rodin.

Ellin entertained in rooms like these.  Portraits on the walls are by artists like Sir Thomas Lawrence. photographer unknown from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York  

When the Speyers moved into their new mansion, they had both earned admiration for their philanthropies and social awareness.  James founded the Theodore Roosevelt professorship in the University of Berlin, which initiated the exchange of professors between the leading universities of the U.S. and Germany, helped found the Museum of the City of New York, and was a trustee of the United Hospital Fund of New York, Mount Sinai Hospital and a director of the Isabella Home.  He was also sat on the advisory board of the Salvation Army and was vice president of the Charity Organization Society of the City of New York.

Ellin was no less involved.  She was a founder of the United Hospital Fund, was one of three organizers of the first Working Girls' Club in the country, founded the Girl's Branch of the Public Schools Athletic League, and the New York Women's League for Animals.

The second floor hallway can be seen through the pocket doors of the ballroom. photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York 

Ellin worked tirelessly for animals.  The Women's League for Animals provided shelter and medical care to "animals in distress.  She had organized the first annual Work Horse Parade in 1910 to shed light on the plight of overworked horses.  On March 5, 1912 she took over the ballroom at Sherry's for a bridge party to benefit the Dogs' Brigade, a branch of the Women's League.  The New York Times reported "The prizes were numerous and costly, ranging from a Chow-chow puppy to a box at the Metropolitan Opera House."  

Ellin Speyer.  photograph courtesy of Kat Mills.

The Speyers had no children.  Their country estate, Waldheim, was located near Scarborough-on-Hudson.  Entertainments in the Fifth Avenue mansion were almost always related to charitable, social or political issues.  The New-York Tribune reported in 1916, for instance, "Mrs. James Speyer has given the use of her house, 1058 Fifth Avenue, on Thursday afternoon, March 23, for a recital by Fritz Kreisler for the benefit of the St. Mary's Free Hospital for Children."

The Speyers and guests post on the steps of the Waldheim mansion.  photo courtesy of Kat Mills.

When the United States entered World War I the Speyers turned their attention to relief work.  On March 23, 1918 the Record & Guide reported that James had purchased "the former Dun residence" at No. 261 Madison Avenue in Murray Hill.  Two weeks later the Guide explained that he had made the purchase to "place the house at the disposal of some organization engaged in war work."

Ellin was chairman of the Red Star Animal Relief which she had organized in New York with Mrs. Frederick W. Vanderbilt and Mrs. M. Orme Wilson.  The group funded the purchase of animals for the U.S. military in Europe.

Elllin pleaded for donations to supply the army with additional horses at the front on March 25.  "Few persons realize that 4,500,000 horses and mules are constantly bringing to the first line trenches all munitions and supplies used on the European battlefields...Motor trucks cannot be used as conveyances so near the firing line, and for this reason the Entente Allies have expended more than $400,000,000 in the United States alone since the war began."

The need for constantly replenishing the supply of horses was urgent.  The New-York Tribune reported "The average life of a horse at the front is estimated to be two weeks."

With the war over appeared that the Speyers were taking a break.  On January 26, 1919 the New-York Tribune reported that "Mrs. James Speyer, has returned home after a six month's stay in Atlantic City, where she had gone for a complete rest."  And on July 8, 1919 The New York Times announced that the Speyers "have left for a trip to the Pacific Coast.  They have been spending the early Summer at their country home at Scarborough-on-Hudson."  What the newspapers did not disclose was that, in fact, Ellin had suffered a nervous breakdown.

Nevertheless, ignoring all advice she did not slow down.  On February 15, 1921 she held the annual meeting of the Girls' Branch of the Public Schools Athletic League in the house.  Eight days later the New-York Tribune reported that Ellin "is seriously ill at her home, 1058 Fifth Avenue."  The article noted "Mrs. Speyer suffered a nervous break-down two years ago, from which she never fully recovered and upon her return from Europe last fall she took up her work where she had left off, though her health did not warrant her doing so."

On February 22 The Evening World reported "Doctors to-day said there was little hope for the recovery of Mrs. James Speyer, known all her life for her active interest in improving conditions among children and animals.  This morning she was still unconscious."  The New York Times remarked on a traffic policeman who was told that she was probably fatally ill.  His response was "Oh, if every man, woman and child Mrs. Speyer has helped in this city would send one big prayer together up to God, she would surely get well."

Ellin Speyer's bedroom.  photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Ellin died just after midnight on the morning of February 23.  Her husband was at her bedside with the doctor and nurses.  The Times said "The end came quietly.  Mrs. Speyer never having recovered consciousness."

Following the funeral, James went to Europe, possibly to grieve privately.  The other mansions in the neighborhood were also closed with their owners away at summer estates or resorts.  A skeleton staff or a single caretaker was left to watch over the residences.

On the afternoon of September 8 the caretaker of a 78th Street house noticed smoke coming from a window of the Speyer mansion.  He rushed to notify the Speyer caretaker, Martin Beuttner.  They searched the house and "found the dining room ablaze," according to The New York Herald.  Beuttner briefly considered trying to save the paintings; but decided that taking the time might allow the fire to spread.

By the time fire fighters arrived the room was nearly totally engulfed.  Part of the ceiling and one wall were destroyed, as well as irreplaceable artworks.  The New York Herald reported "Three paintings which were said by the caretaker to have been Rembrandt landscapes were destroyed...A fourth painting, also said to be a Rembrandt landscape, was badly damaged by smoke and water, but there is some hope that art experts may be able to restore it."

The dining room previous to the fire.  photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The New York Times placed the damage to the room at $50,000.  One painting alone was valued at $25,000.  The total loss would equal about $1.4 million today.

Possibly to provide emotion support, upon James's return to New York Ellin's nephew and his wife began visiting as somewhat regular house guests.  John Dyneley Prince was at the time the United States Minister to Denmark.  On February 5, 1923 the New York Evening Post reported that James was giving a dinner party for the couple.

The following year in November the newspaper noted that the Princes "have come into town and are the guests of Mr. James Speyer at his home, 1058 Fifth avenue, until they sail for Copenhagen the third of next month."  And in April 1931, after Prince had been appointed Minister to Japan, the couple was back and once again James gave them a dinner party.

In the meantime Speyer had turned his attention to his wife's former causes.  On April 17, 1939 the New York Post advised "James Speyer, whose late wife founded the New York Women's League for Animals, twenty-nine years ago, will open his house...for a concert which Laurent Melchior of the Metropolitan Opera Company and Ignace Strasfogel, pianist, will give for the benefit of the league."

On April 14, 1941 the house was again the scene of a musical benefit for the League.  This time Metropolitan Opera soprano Kirsten Flagstad gave a recital.  In reporting on the event The New York Times mentioned "For many years Mr. Speyer has given the use of his house to the league for concerts in aid of animals."  He also continued to host the annual meetings of the Public Schools Athletic League here.

July 22, 1941 was Speyer's 80th birthday.  And he celebrated it in true selfless Speyer fashion.  The Times reported he "will share his birthday cake and ice cream today with 250 city children at the [University Settlement Society's] vacation camp at Beacon, N.Y."  The campers and guests assembled in Speyer Hall (a gift of Ellin years earlier) that afternoon to sing "Happy Birthday to You" and 12-year old Barbara Tuschner presented Speyer with an album of camp photos.

Later that summer Speyer fell ill.  He died in the Fifth Avenue mansion on September 30.  Newspapers nationwide printed his accolades.  The funeral was held in the mansion on November 3.

Much of Speyer's massive estate went to charities and to the organizations he and Ellin had worked to create.  He left the Fifth Avenue residence to the Museum of the City of New York, no doubt envisioning it as a fitting setting for the museum.

The auction of the Speyer art collection and furnishings was conducted in two parts.  On April 10 and 11, 1942, the paintings, 18th century French furniture, and antique tapestries were sold.  The second auction of mostly furniture took place on April 14 and 15, in the mansion.

photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York 

Despite Speyer's wishes, the Museum of the City of New York sold the mansion in January 1944.  One by one the development firm of Simon Brothers acquired the still-surviving mansions on the Fifth Avenue corner.  On December 22, 1946 The New York Times reported that the firm had accumulated the Speyer house, the H. H. Rogers mansion and the Benjamin residences.  "Simon Brothers intend to start building operations this spring."

photo via landmarkbranding.com

Designed by George F. Pelham, the 19-floor apartment building on the site was completed in 1951.  It survives.