The Orpheum Theater - 126 Second Avenue

One of two Greek-inspired drama masks on either side of the marquee can be glimpsed at the top of the ground floor pier.

In 1837 construction began on two nearly mirror-image Greek Revival homes at Nos. 126 and 128 Second Avenue.   Each three bays wide, they were three-and-a-half stories tall and featured the details of upscale residences--handsome wrought-iron basket newels at the shared stoop, paneled double entrance doors and a stone balustrade above the cornice.

In 1860 the trustees of the New-York Infirmary for Indigent Women and Children purchased No. 126.  The institution was at the time located at the corner of Bleecker and Crosby Streets, but, as noted by The New York Times on May 7 that year, "The Dispensary and Infirmary patients are constantly increasing."  The "large and commodious" 25-foot wide home, according to the trustees, was "well adapted for the accommodation of patients."

The building as it appeared around 1868.  original source unknown

By the turn of the century the facility was gone.  The once-elegant neighborhood was now the center of New York's German immigrant population.  Along Second Avenue were restaurants, beer gardens, and at least one pleasure garden, the Orpheum Garden.

Pleasure gardens had been popular for most of the 19th century.  They offered food and drink and, in the warm months, open-air entertainment in the rear "gardens" where patrons could escape the stifling heat of their tenement rooms.

On February 14, 1908 the New-York Tribune reported that the vintage house-turned infirmary-turned-recreation venue was about to get a face life.  "Plans have also been filed for remodelling the four story and basement restaurant and concert hall, No. 126 Second avenue for the Orpheum Garden Company."

It is unclear how far-reaching those original exterior renovations went; but the interior was remodeled into a silent film theater.  In January 1913 the Practical Mother's Association of Greater New York sent its foot soldiers out to investigate the posters displayed by such venues.  Their intention was to attack "the films and houses which deserve reprobation."  One sanctimonious member inspected the Moving Picture Theatre at No. 126 Second Avenue, reporting "Crowd of children outside.  I did not go in, but outside of building up to standard.  Posters good."

At the time the theater was owned by Nathan Bloch.  It was doing well enough that the following year he hired architect Harold L. Young to design a replacement building.   His plans called for a "$10,000 theatre."  That figure would translate to about $253,000 today.

The result was a handsome brick-faced theater, two stories tall.  Trimmed in limestone, it was a refined 20th century take on English Regency architecture; the second floor and parapet being a near copy of the 1819 entrance to the Burlington Arcade in Piccadilly.

Harold L. Young quite possibly referred to T. H. Shepherd's 1819 Burlington Arcade in London.  copyright expired

The new theater was named the Orpheum--an obvious nod to the Orpheum Garden.  The venue continued to draw crowds and two years after its opening Bloch re-hired Young to update the building with "new fire-proof widows."

The title of the property was in the name of Nathan Bloch's wife, Gizella.  The couple retained ownership for decades, but did not attempt get involved in the theater's management.  They leased it to a series of theatrical management firms--like Benjamin Sherman who took it over in September 1929 and the Danrold Amusement Company, Inc. which leased it in September 1934.

Motion pictures gave way to live entertainment in 1958 when the American Mime Theatre opened in the renovated venue.   The New York Times theater critic Arthur Gelb was not overwhelmed.  Following opening night on September 24, he wrote "Watching the American Mime Theatre is more like looking at a group of high-spirited, attractive young people playing charades than watching an artistic achievement.

"Like an onlooker at charades, a member of the audience at the New Orpheum Theatre on Second Avenue can get pretty bored."  His brutally frank review ended "Once they figure out who and what they are, let them come back and try again."

Despite the lackluster performance of its opening production, the Orpheum Theatre became a popular off-Broadway venue.  The following spring Producer Philip Rose's production of the new musical, My Old Friends, was staged; and on May 18, 1959 the Peter Pell production of Chic, starring Virginia de Luce, opened.

Dancer and actress Virginia de Luce had made her Broadway debut in New Faces of 1952. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York  

Later that year a new musical Little Mary Sunshine thrust an unknown actress into stardom.  The tongue-in-check production opened on November 18, 1959 starting Eileen Breenan.  The role earned her an Obie Award.

Eileen Brennan as Little Mary Sunshine at the Orpheum Theatre.  original source unknown

Throughout the decades the Orpheum Theatre would see a succession of veteran stage stars.  On January 15, 1962 Felicien Marceau's play, The Egg, opened with Dick Shawn starring.  In the cast of Matty and the Moron and Madonna, which opened on March 29, 1965, were Katherine Ross and Sylvia Miles.  And on September 26, 1967 George Tabori's joltingly-titled The Niggerlovers opened starring Stacey Keach.  Tabori described the play as "contemporary--set in New York--and on one level of meaning about the problem of black and white."

photo by Edmund Vincent Gillon from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In December 1979, Harvey Fierstein brought his Fugue in a Nursery to the stage here.  The Times critic John Corry was tepid in his assessment of Fierstein's offering, saying in part, "Nonetheless, credit Mr. Fierstein with warm intentions; he likes his characters...Mr. Fierstein likes them well enough to even play Arnold himself.  There is vanity at work here, but Mr. Fierstein is serious about it."

Critic John Corry was relentless in his deprecation of An Evening with Joan Crawford, which he called "a ramshackle musical at the Orpheum" following opening night on January 29, 1981.  The production, the cast of which were mostly female impersonators, "alternates between ridicule and adoration of Miss Crawford and it makes of her a holy monster."  He concluded "One imagines the actors sitting around, telling Joan Crawford stories and imagining that you will find them as amusing as they did.  You will not, and necrophilia is not nostalgia."
'

photo by Beyond My Ken

No one could imagine that when the production of Stomp opened in 1994 it would still be going strong nearly a quarter of a century later.  Although the sizable marquee obscures much of the lower half of the structure, little has changed to Harold L. Young's elegant 1914 movie theater.

The 1882 Leggett Building - 126-128 Franklin Street

In 1858, 18-year old Francis H. Leggett found a job in his father's grocery business, R. L. Leggett & Co.  Six years later he was made a partner.  Then, in 1870 he struck out on his own, forming the wholesale grocery firm Francis H. Leggett & Co.  Within only 11 years his operation was one of the largest in the city with a branch office in Bordeaux, France.

On January 22, 1881 The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that "Messrs. Francis H. Leggett & Co., wholesale grocers, have recently bought 89 feet by 80 on Franklin and Varick streets and West Broadway, for $100,000."  The cost of the property would equal more than $7.4 million today.  The article added "On this site they propose to have finished, by next summer, a magnificent building suitable for the requirements of their business."

On March 19 the journal reported "Mr. George W. Da Cunha, the architect, will break ground this week for a nine-story grocery for Messrs. Francis H. Leggett & Co.  The entire first story is to be of granite...Thence to the eight[h] story the fronts are to be faced with Philadelphia brick."  The sills, band courses, lintels and cornices would to be granite.  According to DaCunha's plans, the top floor would take the form of a mansard, faced in "rich dark red slate."

Completed in 1882, the building was a harmonious blend of Queen Anne and neo-Grec styles.  The understated lower floors relied on creative brickwork and angles to create interest,  The upper floors, however, exploded in a fantasy of arched openings, chunky brick corbels, and muscular pier decorations.  What was originally intended to be a mansard above the granite cornice emerged as a vertical story by a solid brick parapet.

The building, seen here from the Varick and Franklin Street corner, was originally about twice as wide as it is today  Permanent awnings sheltered the horse-drawn drays that loaded and unloaded merchandise.  King's Photographic Views of New York, 1895 (copyright expired)

The New-York Tribune later said "no mercantile house is more widely known, or more highly esteemed."  Included in the new building was a laboratory where three chemists insured, according to an advertisement, "the absolute integrity of every food material entering their products."

It would appear that Francis Leggett was a compassionate employer.  One of his salesmen, 69-year-old David M. Earl, fell ill with "bilious colic" on April 22, 1893 and went to the Chambers Street Hospital.   What ensued was what The New York Times described as "an unpleasant experience."

A "young man, who said he was not the doctor," administered medicine which made Earl ill, causing him to regurgitate.  In response, the hospital worker "abused him for such behavior."  Earl complained that "he was rudely hustled about, and nearly fainted with pain from the treatment he received."  Finally, he left the hospital when a doctor diagnosed him as a having too small a liver.

But his $150 watch and cash, which he left with the watchman when he checked himself in, were now missing.  When he heard of his salesman's plight, according to The Times, "Mr. Leggett was indignant at Mr. Earl's experience at the hospital and entered a complaint before the Visiting Committee of the New-York Hospital."  Nevertheless, Earl's money and watch were never recovered.

A few months after the incident Arthur G. Wainwright was hired as assistant cashier (a bookkeeper in today's jargon).   As the years passed he was deemed "strictly trustworthy" by the firm's management.  That is, until March 8, 1885 when his accounts were found $400 short.

When a supervisor asked him about the discrepancy, Wainwright opened the safe and showed him that the missing amount was there.  In fact, it wasn't.  On March 14 The New York Times reported "He was frightened then, and when a good chance came he took $2,000 from the cash drawer, borrowed another clerk's hat, and disappeared."  The cash would amount to $61,000 today.

The Times wrote "Nothing has since been heard of him, but he is supposed to have gone to Canada."  In fact, he went to Brooklyn.   Then, two weeks later The Sun reported "He returned yesterday just before closing time and gave himself up, saying that he had not spent the money and that his conscience would not allow him to keep it."  Wainwright's supervisor, Theodore F. Whitmarsh, summoned detectives who took the repentant embezzler to jail.

Wainwright's arrest was not the end of similar problems for the firm.  On November 18, 1901 The New York Times reported "Max Borchardt, forty-eight years old, was arrested at his home...[charged] with stealing $113.51 from the firm of Bradford [sic] H. Leggett & Co. of 128 Franklin Street, where he was employed."

Another highly regarded employee was arrested that year.  Bryan L. Rawson had worked for Leggett & Co. for a quarter of a century as a "credit man."  He was in line to be taken in as a partner, and The Evening World called him "their most trusted employee."  Rawson was earning the satisfying salary of $4,500 per year, or about $135,000 today.

But a check of his accounts showed he was short $35,000.  Rawson maintained his innocence, but resigned out of indignation.  Two years later an investigation revealed it was Max Borchardt--who had been convicted of stealing only $113.51--who had taken the money.  With his reputation severely bruise, Rawson now sued Francis Leggett & Co. and received an award of $35,000 on October 19, 1903.

Dishonest employees were, of course, the exception.  The others enjoyed perks like the company-sponsored baseball team.  On June 9, 1910 The Times reported that the Leggett team "will play on Saturday afternoons only, and will now entertain challengers from mercantile houses, preferably wholesale grocers."

The Evening World, December 8, 1911 (copyright expired)

Disaster for the impressive Francis H. Leggett & Co. building came not because of fire or explosion, but civic improvement.  In 1904 C. C. Hickok had begun a push to extend Seventh Avenue southward.  Finally, on June 21, 1913 The Record & Guide reported that the city would begin appropriating property "for the extension of the avenue from Greenwich avenue to Carmine street, for the widening of Varick street from Carmine to Franklin and for the extension of Varick street from Franklin to West Broadway."  Standing in the route of the Varick Street widening was more than half of the Leggett building.

Demolition was well underway on August 7, 1914.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

With much of its structure now gone, Leggett & Co. hired the esteemed architect C. P. H. Gilbert to erect a western wall.  The firm need not have gone to the top of the architectural heap in selecting its designer; for the resultant patch was a simple, brick wall.

Less than half of the Franklin Street elevation remained.  photo from the collection of the New York Public Library

Losing half of its building meant that Francis H. Leggett & Co. could no longer function here.  Although it retained possession of the property, on March 14, 1914 the firm announced it would be moving.

Leggett leased its old headquarters to the Duval Company, a warehouse operation, in November 1917.  Three years later the Comet Warehouse Company signed a 10-year lease.

In June 1921 the aging building was sold at "liquidation sale" to Emma G. Shuttleworth.  She had a one-story extension, designed by architect Charles H. Richter, added on Varick Street in 1923.

The skinny extension was increased to two stories in 1934.

By 1931 the building was home to the All American Cable and Radio, Inc.  The Great Depression was dealing a significant blow to telegraph firms and on October 14 that year All American Cable joined other similar companies, like Western Union and the International Telephone and Telegraph Corporation in cutting its employees' wages.

All American Cable and Radio, Inc. participated in the WPA's World's Fair exhibition in 1939.  The Government defended the cost of the project, saying it provided jobs and showed taxpayers how their money was being spent.  All American Cable and Radio, Inc. set up its display in Communications Building.

The company was responsible for the sub-ocean cable service between the United States and the French island of Martinique.  Significant troubles were caused on July 21, 1940 when the cable ruptured, disrupting communications.  With no cable ships in the North Atlantic, it took the firm five months to correct the problem.

Before long a similar firm moved in, the Mackay Radio and Telegraph Company.  It was a foreshadowing of things to come.  In August 1945 the firm elected Forest L. Henderson its executive vice president.  The fact that he was already executive vice president and director of All American Cable and Radio, Inc. was, no doubt, not a coincidence.  Within five years the two firms were firmly affiliated.

The distinctive change in the Tribeca neighborhood made its appearance at the old Leggett Building in 1988 when the upper floors were converted to 22 residences.  The ground floor retail spaces would be home to stores and galleries--like the D. L. Cerney gallery on the West Broadway side in 2001--over the years.  Most of the busy locals who grab coffee or a sandwich at Gotan restaurant today have no idea that the handsome building is just a fraction of what it was in 1882

photographs by the author

The 1846 Clinton Gilbert House - 12 West 10th Street

The addition of the fourth floor is evidenced in the change of brick color.

In 1845, attorney Augustus W. Clason, Jr. began construction on an upscale brick-faced house at 58 West 10th Street.  (Until 1870's 10th Street addresses began at Sixth Avenue.  The house would then be renumbered No. 12.).  The residence, completed the following year, outdid most of its imposing neighbors with its exceptional 32-foot width.

Originally three stories tall, it sat above a brownstone clad English basement.  The floor-to-ceiling parlor floor windows sprouted exceptionally fine cast iron balconies, their delicate design incorporating stylized plant forms.  A lacy fringe ran along the bottom, dripping acorns.

Clason erected the house as an investment.  It was purchased by banker and importer Clinton Gilbert and his wife, the former Mary Stokes.  Born in 1816 near Washington Square, Gilbert was the son of silversmith George W. Gilbert (reputedly the first silversmith in New York City).  He and Mary, who were married on June 1, 1831, had no children.  They maintained a summer house in New Rochelle, New York.

Mary's widowed mother, Mrs. Thomas Stokes, lived with the couple.  Her grandson, Anson Phelps Stokes, described her in his 1910 Stokes Records as, "a woman with delicate hands, fine complexion, large eyes, calm and gentle manners, and pleasant English voice."  She died in the house in 1849.

Clinton Gilbert started his career in the metal importing business, forming Stokes & Gilbert with Benaiah and Henry Stokes, two of Mary's brothers.  By now his many titles included president of the Greenwich Savings Bank, a trustee of the Corporation of Greenwood Cemetery, and a partner in The Broadway Railroad.

It was most likely Gilbert's busy schedule that prompted him to skip grand jury duty on January 15, 1862.  The judge was not pleased.  The New York Times reported, "The Grand Jury reported to the Court that they were unable to attend to business owing to the absence, without excuse, of several of their members."  Gilbert was fined $25--about $630 today.

Mary Stokes Gilbert suffered "paralysis of the throat" in her latter years, making her unable to speak.  Anson Phelps Stokes recalled, "On account of his wife's health, he afterward moved to a quieter part of Fifth Avenue."  She died on Tuesday, April 4, 1865.

Gilbert did not give up ownership of No. 12, and, in fact, by now owned 14 and 20 West 10th Street.  An advertisement in The New York Herald in 1875 offered, "To Let--Extra wide house, handsomely furnished, No. 12 West Tenth street; rent reasonable to good tenant."

Gilbert died at 20 West 10th Street on November 29, 1891 at the age of 84.  The Rhodes' Journal of Banking noted, "The greater part of his life was spent within a stone's throw of the house where he was born, and he died at his home in 10th street not far from the same place."

Before his death 12 West 10th Street had become home to Frederick Esler, head of the streetcar firm Metropolic Contract Company, and his wife.  The couple moved among polite society, rubbing shoulders with other wealthy visitors at fashionable resorts.  On October 14, 1887, for instance, The Evening World reported, "Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Esler, who have been spending the summer at Seabright and Bar Harbor, have returned to their home at No. 12 West Tenth street."  A month later the newspaper noted, "Miss Eleanor Winslow will be entertained at luncheon on Thursday by Mrs. Frederick Esler, of 12 West Tenth street."

Around 1892, Dr. Walter Vought, a bachelor, purchased the house.  He would not enjoy it for long.  Vought selflessly treated patients suffering the worst of contagious diseases.  That year he was in charge of the Quarantine Station at Fire Island during a cholera epidemic.  On September 25, 1893, The New York Times reported that he, "died at 11 o'clock yesterday morning in the New-York Hospital of typhoid fever, which disease he contracted while attending a little child about ten days ago."

In May 1894, the doctor's estate sold the property to Robert J. Fox for $31,000--about $911,000 today.  The sale triggered a rapid-fire turnover of ownership, ending with esteemed architect Bruce Price.  Before the family moved in, Price made substantial changes.

A full floor with a simple paneled cornice was added, the parlor windows were removed and replaced by a large copper-clad rounded oriel, and the Greek Revival style entrance was changed to neo-Classical.

The double entrance doors with their wonderfully-eccentric brasses were Price's design.  photo via Sotheby's.com

Price and his wife, the former Josephine Lee, had two children, including Emily, who was recently married to Edwin Main Post.  She would become a successful author of articles on architecture and interior design, five novels and serials in popular magazines like Harper's Weekly.  Her greatest fame came through her books on etiquette.

This 1910 photograph shows that Price's redesigned stoop originally had no railings.  from Stokes Records, 1910 (copyright expired)

Bruce Price was among the preeminent architects of his day.  Among his works were the cathedral in Savannah, Georgia, the Lee Memorial Church in Lexington, Virginia, and the cottages and clubhouse at Tuxedo Park (where the Prices had their summer home).  And so, when rumors circulated that the largest hotel in the world--backed by "Vanderbilt interests"--would cover the entire block between Park and Madison Avenues and 41st to 42nd Streets, reporters went to 12 West 10th Street to verify the story.

On the night of December 15, 1897, Price opened his door to a New-York Tribune journalist.  The reporter wrote, "Mr. Price stated explicitly that so far as he knew there was no such project in contemplation."  However, he would not turn down the job.  "'I should be only too happy,' he said, 'to be commissioned to draw up plans for a monster hotel.'"

Price's niece, Sadie Price Pell, divorced her wealthy insurance broker husband, Archie H. Pell, in Saratoga in the summer of 1902.  The daughter of Price's brother, Benjamin, she soon announced her intentions to marry Dr. Percy R. Turnure.  Following their marriage in the Church of the Ascension on Fifth Avenue, a reception was held in the 10th Street house.

Bruce and Josephine were traveling in Paris on May 29, 1903 when the architect died at the age of 57.  In May 1906, Charles Buchanan purchased No. 12, and resold it by 1914 to Felix Lamond.

Lamond was a renowned organist.  Not only was he organist of fashionable Trinity Chapel, he was the director of the Trinity School of Church Music, a training school for organists, choirmasters and choristers.  Additionally, he was one of the organizers of the New York Oratorio Society.

The Lamonds' daughter, Marjorie, was educated both in New York and in Europe,  She had been introduced to society in 1912 and was traveling with her parents in Europe on August 1, 1914 when her engagement to Henry Fairfield Osborn, Jr. was announced.

The family did not return to New York for the wedding; instead the groom and his family (described by The Sun as, "one of the most prominent families in the city") went to London.  The original plans were for a Paris wedding, but, as explained by The New York Times on September 9, 1914, "when the war began it was decided to wait until the party reached London."  The destination wedding, held in Westminster Abbey, was attended by prominent New Yorkers like Mr. and Mrs. J. P. Morgan.

Shortly after Marjorie's wedding, 12 West 10th Street became to Henry Wood Flournoy.  His wife's niece, Alice Gertrude Gordon (who often went by her middle name), lived in Washington, but the couple kept a room available for her visits to New York.  The arrangement would draw the house into the history books.

When Gertrude's father, General J. J. Gordon died, he left her what The Evening World termed, "a large fortune."  Gertrude's best friend was the widowed Edith Bolling Galt.  The two were virtually inseparable, seen at entertainments and the theater together both in New York and Washington.  Gertrude's prominence in Washington society was evidenced on May 6, 1914 when The New York Times reported, "President Wilson, who frequently seeks relaxation after an arduous day at one of the local theatres, varied his custom to-night by attending the circus, accompanied by Miss Margaret Wilson, Miss Helen Woodrow Bones, Miss Gertrude Gordon, and Dr. Cary T. Grayson."

In the fall of 1915, both Gertrude and Edith Galt were staying in the Flournoy house.  On November 28 a prestigious caller arrived.  The New-York Tribune reported, "Woodrow Wilson set down his Presidential burden last night on the door-mat of an unpretentious red brick house in West Tenth Street, just off the avenue.

"The door opened to his ring and closed behind him--and then for more than two hours, while secret service men, detectives, reporters and plain hoi polloi awaited the reappearance of the President, Woodrow Wilson, the human being, the accepted suitor, enjoyed the companionship of the woman who is to become his wife."  Reportedly, it was in the Flournoy home that the President had recently proposed marriage to Mrs. Galt.

No. 12 became the focus of press attention.  On November 30, The New York Times reported, "Yesterday was a busy day for Mrs. Norman Galt, the fiancée of President Wilson.  From early morning until sundown she kept appointments with her dressmakers, furriers, and milliners...Mrs. Galt left the home of her friend, Miss Gertrude Gordon, at 12 West Tenth Street, about 9 o'clock."

Amid nasty rumors that the President and his fiancée had murdered his wife, Ellen, the couple was married on December 18, 1915.  The Presidential couple would return to 12 West 10th Street at least one more time.

The following year, on May 24, Gertrude married White House physician, Dr. Cary T. Grayson in St. George's Chapel.  The First Lady stood by the bride's side and held her bouquet.  Witnessing the ceremony with the President, were Secretary of the Treasury William Gibbs McAdoo and his wife.  Outside around 300 people gathered in the park to get a glimpse of the distinguished persons entering and leaving the church.  Three years later, The Sun mentioned, "It was very much of a White House wedding, even though the ceremony was performed in New York."

Afterwards a reception was held at 12 West 10th Street.  The wedding cake was a gift of the Wilsons, who attended the "informal reception."  The New York Times noted, "Gifts were received by Dr. Grayson and his bride from the President and Mrs. Wilson, members of the Cabinet, Senators, Representatives, many Government officials and employees at the White House."

Following the Flournoy's leaving around 1919, the house was converted to a two-family residence--the homes of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert S. Houston and Mrs. and Mrs. William Ransom Barbour.  The Houstons remained at least through 1930, by which time Harris Baldwin Fisher and his family had moved into the former Barbour apartment.

In 1928, the lower level was converted to the Poetry House.  On June 8 that year, The New York Times remarked, "Pegasus went in dinner jacket and gleaming white shirt to the formal opening last evening of Poetry House, a meeting place for poets and all lovers of literature, at 12 East Tenth Street."

A renovation in 1958 resulted in two apartments in the basement, where Poetry House had been, one apartment on the first floor, and two each on the upper floors.  

Among its more celebrated residents was Isabel Lydia Whitney, the renowned water colorist and muralist.  Upon her death in her apartment in February 1962, The New York Times called her, "the first woman in America to stand on a scaffold or ladder and do fresco painting."  Among her works was the fresco for the 1925 wing of the Brooklyn Museum.

No. 12 West 10th Street never truly declined.  When cosmetics creative directors Richard Ferretti and James Gager sold their 2,200-square-foot apartment in December 2015, it commanded a price of $5.75 million.

photo via city realty. com

And while most of the interior details have been removed over the decades, some, like the entrance staircase, survive.  Outside, the 1890's remodeling by Bruce Price remains little changed.

photographs by the author

The James M. Townsend House - 318 West 75th Street

The house to the right was constructed simultaneously for James W. Townsend, Jr.

Mansion architect C. P. H. Gilbert was busily designing a number of townhouses on the Upper West Side in 1895.  Unlike the rows of speculative houses rising throughout the district, most of Gilbert's were direct commissions.

Late that year the architect was hired by James M. Townsend and his son to design side-by-side homes at Nos. 318 and 320 West 75th Street respectively.   Gilbert treated the two homes independently with no attempt at melding the designs.

The James Mulford. Townsend home would stand slightly taller than No. 320.  Its sandy-colored brick upper floors sat on a limestone base.  Its somewhat rigid Renaissance Revival design was softened by delightful carvings of scallop shells and squiggly ribbons below the third floor cornice.  The shell-and-ribbon motif was repeated in the panels between the fifth floor windows; and a line of shells decorated the primary cornice.

Townsend was born in New Haven, Connecticut in 1852.  He graduated from Yale University in 1874 and then from Columbia Law School.  He married Harriet Bailey Campbell, the daughter of Professor John Lyle Campbell of Washington and Lee University, on November 15, 1882.   Theirs would be a large family.  The couple had six children--Harriet Campbell, James Mulford, Jr., John Campbell, Edward Howard, and twins Virginia and Donald.

The Townsends maintained a summer home at Pelham Manor, New York; described by The New York Times in July 1896 as "one of the most secluded localities on the Sound."  The article mentioned "No trade is carried on inside the manor limits."

When James Mulford Townsend moved into the 75th Street house, he was the senior member of the law firm Townsend, Avery & Button.  from Men of Progress, 1898 (copyright expired)

Townsend's social status was evidenced in his club memberships.  Men of Progress in 1898 said "He is identified with many of New York's most prominent clubs."  Among them were the University, the Colonial, the New York Athletic and the Barnard Clubs.

Harriet's entertainments in the house were not lavish.  Society columns commented on teas and receptions rather than sumptuous dinners and dances.  Such was the case on February 26, 1900 when she hosted an 11 a.m. lecture by Mrs. Ruutz Rees on "Buddhism."

The Townsends remained at No. 318 until early in 1909 when it was sold to Dr. Frederick Merwin Ives.   An unlikely combination of physician and civic engineer, he was born in Rome in 1866, where his well-known sculptor father, Chauncey Ives, maintained his studio.  Ives had graduated from the University of Pennsylvania in 1889 and was married to Edith Wetherill, a graduate of Bryn Mawr College.

The couple had not lived in the home long before one of their servants was the near-victim of a robbery.  James Hanley had fallen asleep under a tree in Fort George Park on the evening of June 22, 1910.  His reverie was abruptly broken by uninvited movements.  He awoke "to find a sailor in full uniform bending over him and fumbling at his pockets," reported The New York Times the following day.  "He noticed, too, that his gold chain, worth $10, was missing."

Hanley jumped up and wrestled with the sailor, drawing the attention of a passing policeman.  The uniformed man was arrested and Hanley's watch chain was found in his pocket.  At the station house the crook said he was Thomas Doyle, attached to the U.S. cruiser the Franklin, and he had come to New York from the Norfolk Navy Yard on furlough.  The police were not quick to accept his story, telling reporters they "believed he is one of several fake sailors who beg in uniform for a living."

When the United States entered World War I Ives joined the Medical Department of the Army, with the rank of captain.  It may have been his absence that led to the 75th Street house being leased.  In September 1919 Albert Gran rented it.  But if the couple intended to return, it does not appear they ever did.

On July 30, 1920 an advertisement in The Sun offered "Charming rooms, overlooking Hudson, two doors Riverside Drive."  And then on September 7, 1923 The New York Times reported that Edith had sold the house for $65,000--more than $930,000 today.

The buyer was real estate operator Henry Schwamm.  Reports said he purchased it "for a client."  Apparently the client was himself for he and his wife, Clara, moved in.  Like Ives, Schwamm was multi-faceted.  In addition to his real estate business, he was an authority on medical and dental jurisprudence and wrote extensively on the subject.

The couple had five children, Gustave, Sidney, Blance, Camille and Frances.  They received the privileges of well-to-do families and extensive education.

When son Gustave's engagement to Norma June Wexler was announced in December 1932, for instance, newspapers noted he "was graduated from the College of Arts and Pure Science and the School of Law at New York University."   Gustave was still living at home and practicing law at the time.

The Schwamm's well-educated daughters Camille and Blanch attended the Institut Fisher at Montreux, Switzerland.   Camille then studied at Syracuse University, and New York University.  Blanche went on to Columbia University's Teachers College.

Dr. Henry Schwamm died at the age of 64 on July 22, 1943.   Three years later the house was converted to apartments, two on each floor except the top, which had three.

Despite the unfortunate apartment entrance doors and an inexplicable coating of paint over the limestone of the first floor, C. P. H. Gilbert's stately design endures between two other contemporary Gilbert houses.

photographs by the author

The Lost Latting Observatory - 42nd Street and Bryant Park

A sliver of the Crystal Palace can be seen at far right, across 42nd Street.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

London's 1851 Great Exhibition in Hyde Park was a sensation.  In response New York City launched its own international exposition two years later, housed in an engineering marvel--the Crystal Palace.   The exhibition took up the western half of what would become Bryant Park, behind the massive Croton Reservoir which faced Fifth Avenue.

There would be another amazing feat of engineering at the fair, the Latting Observatory across 42nd Street from the Crystal Palace.  Waring Latting envisioned a soaring tower--the highest structure in the city--from which fair visitors would get magnificent views of Staten Island, New Jersey and Long Island.  Designed by architect William Naugle, it would rise 315 feet, with landings at three levels.  The 75-foot square base tapered to about 8 feet at the pinnacle.  A contemporary pamphlet claimed that 2,000 people could "be accommodated at one time on its various landings."

As the tower rose in the spring 1853 a committee (or "jury") of citizens was sent to decide on its safety.  The men reported to the Board of Aldermen on April 24.  "A number of the Jury being practical builders, the matter was submitted more particularly to their judgment, and the opinion of all of them was that the structure in question is being erected upon correct principles, and will be perfectly safe for the purposes for which it was designed," reported The New York Times.

The reason the towering wooden structure was sturdy enough for the jury's approval was Naugle's ample use of iron bracing.  The diamond-pattern of the girders created strength and stability.  In June 1853 The Plough, The Loom, and the Anvil remarked on the engineering breakthrough and published a detailed explanation of the intricate design logistics.  The article added:

This structure deserves careful consideration in various respects.  It is a capital exhibition of architectural skill, and as such commends itself to the study of all practical artisans in that department.  Again, it is worthy of attention as the highest structure, we believe, on the continent; and thirdly as an observatory which commands an entire view of New-York and its environs.

The structure cost $150,000 to construct--nearly $5 million today.   Visitors climbed a winding staircase; however The Plough, The Loom, and The Anvil assured it was "so constructed as to tire, by the ascent, much less than one would anticipate.  The frequent landings furnish convenient opportunities for rest, and present sufficient inducements to detain the visitor, even though he may not need to rest."

Among those who agreed was the reporter from The New York Times who climbed the tower on opening day, June 30.  "The ascent is a little fatiguing, but it improves digestion."  

If fatigue was at all an issue for the reporter, it was quickly forgotten when he reached the summit.  "We must confess, that on ascending this tower yesterday, we were not prepared for the wonderful panorama which was presented to our view.  We were told that our eyes could sweep from forty to sixty miles through space, and we scarcely doubt the assertion."

The view from the top.  In what is now Bryant Park, the Crystal Palace is seen at right, the Croton Reservoir at left.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The writer mentioned the towns he could see from the top--Morrisania, Flushing, and Newark--as well as the Verrazano Narrows and Sandy Hook.  "Are these human beings that are walking beneath us?  The are.  They are very small, are they not?  But when Jersey City, and Hoboken, and Weehawken are almost footstools for your tower, of what account are human beings?"

The journalist rather dramatically concluded "And let only the sun crown with its rays the landscape and seascape that you behold and you may no longer desire to ascend the Alps or Andes."

Two days after the Latting Observatory opened both it and the Crystal Palace were threatened by violent weather.  The following day The New York Times reported that "a violent storm in the afternoon, accompanied by sharp lightning, a fierce hurricane through a section of the City, and the heaviest hailstorm known in this vicinity for many years, prostrated several buildings in the neighborhood of the Crystal Palace, and crushed a large number of persons beneath the ruins."

A team of reporters from the newspaper rushed to the fair site to see if the glass exhibition hall was shattered by the hailstones and if the Latting Observatory still stood.   A giant merry-go-round had been demolished, a tall brick wall next to the Observatory was blown down, and an entire block of wooden buildings on 44th Street being constructed "for saloons, refreshment rooms, &c." were destroyed.  But both the Latting Observatory and the Crystal Palace emerged nearly unscathed.

"The Latting Observatory withstood the blast nobly," reported The Times.  There had been a large number of workmen around 200 feet up when the hurricane hit.  "They were quite surprised to reach the ground in safety," said the article.  "In the saloon under the tower the plaster upon the ceiling is slightly cracked, and in one or two places has fallen off; but, with this exception the tall structure shows no sign of injury, and still stands, 'like Atlas, unremoved.'"

The journalist declared "So severe a test so well sustained, will tend greatly to increase public confidence in the solidity of this unequalled tower."

A few weeks after the tower's opening, its directors announced additional attractions.  A powerful "Drummond Light" was to be affixed to the top, which would be visible from sea and for miles around.  On the topmost landing a "monster telescope" was being installed which would afford visitors close-up views of sites 60 miles away.  Numerous other telescopes were positioned on the other landings along with exhibitions liked "dissolving views, cosmoramas, scientific and optical instruments, works of art, and many other objects of interest, useful and attractive," as reported by The Times on July 27.  The directors intended "not only to make this Observatory the highest structure upon this Continent, but to make it an object of special interest to all."

In September 1853 a brilliant comet, visible to the naked eye, could be seen in the night skies.  One astronomer in particular, Professor Jewett, foresaw doom.  He warned residents of the New York area that the comet would come crashing to earth, causing annihilation.

from the collection of the New York Public Library.

To ensure that citizens were forewarned, The New York Times put reporters atop the Latting Observatory and the spire of Trinity Church to watch for the incoming missile.  On September 12 the newspaper cautioned "Recollect it's got all day to come in, and at the rate of 30,000 miles a minute it can get over a good deal of ground in twenty-four hours."  The reporter suggested that his readers take the opportunity to end their lives on a charitable note.

"If, after reading the prophecy of Professor Jewett, and while laboring under a disagreeable uncertainty as to your personal safety, you committed a good deed--gave a poor woman a loaf of bread or an orphan some of your old clothes--don't take them back again until after 12 o'clock to-night, because there's no knowing what may happen."

The article naively advised "If you should hear any strange noise during the day, don't stop to look up, but put on your hat, and run as fast as you can, and if you can make better time than the Comet, you may escape."

At 2:30 that morning, just before the paper went to press, a panting reporter rushed into the news room from the Latting Observatory.  "He says that after levelling his opera-glass for several hours, and following the Comet all over Creation, he noticed a pause."  The Times concluded that the comet would not obliterate New York City.

When the city decided to erect a monument to George Washington, Waring Latting offered to erect another observatory on the Battery.  This one would be double the height of the original--topping off at an astonishing 600 feet.  Not everyone was quick to agree with the proposal.  Alderman Voorhis said he "was a lover of Washington, as were all good citizens, but he did not want to mix up the name of Washington with that of Latting--a mere speculator."

Those opposed to the idea may have been considering the fate of the existing Latting Observatory.  Shortly after the Exhibition closed in 1854, the structure was taken over by the Hydeville Marble Works, which chopped 75 feet off the top.   Once touted as a world class attraction, on October 20, 1855 The New York Times wrote "The Latting Observatory is converted into a shot tower."

Shot towers created shotgun ammunition by dropping molten lead through enormous sieve-like bowls.  As the drops of metal fell, they formed perfect spheres and upon hitting a large vat of water at the bottom, solidified to round shot balls.  The Observatory's somewhat humiliating new function would not last long.

Late on the night of August 30, 1856 fire broke out in the cooper shop of M. & E. Connolly on West 43rd Street.  It spread "with rapidity on every side," according to a newspaper.  The conflagration engulfed many buildings and destroyed more than $150,000 in property.  On September 1 The New York Times reported "The 'Latting Observatory' was completely destroyed, and the Crystal Palace was saved with much difficulty."

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

But, interestingly enough, the legacy of Waring Latting's ground-breaking structure was yet to come.  Among the visitors to the tower in 1853 was French architect Gustave Eiffel.  William Naugle's structural ironwork stayed with him.  And when the French Government announced a contest on May 2, 1886 for an entrance tower for the Paris Exposition Universelle of 1889, Eiffel hearkened back to the Latting Observatory.  

In an article entitled "The New York 'Eiffel' Tower of 1853" Engineering News compared the two structures.  "The Latting Observatory was simply a well-braced 'observation mast,' rising fro an extremely ugly base, built without regard to beauty of form and for a purely commercial purpose.  The Eiffel Tower, on the other hand, while also primarily designed for the collection of fees from visitors, was in itself a thing of surpassing grace."

The article noted "It is only due to M. Eiffel to say that while he acknowledges that the original idea of a 1,000-ft. tower was borrowed from America, he has so improved upon this idea that his structure is as far beyond the proposed iron tower of 1878 as that structure exceeded the wooden tower of 1853."

And so, while the Latting Observatory stood for only three years, its design planted the seed for one of the most recognized structures in the world.

Another tower, the Grace Building, sits on the site today.  photo by WestportWiki

The Simon Bolivar Statue - Central Park at 6th Avenue

On April 17, 1921 the New-York Tribune noted that "Bolivar Hill," a knoll in Central Park near 83rd Street and the West Drive "has been for thirty years the center of a drama which had the elements of human interest, passion, gossip of the art world, comedy, tragedy and wasted fortune, to say nothing of international relations."  It all had to do with the Venezuelan Government's frustrated attempts to have a fitting memorial to Simon Bolivar in the park.

In 1883 it had commissioned Venezuelan sculptor Rafael de la Cova to create a monument to the hero.  Bolivar is credited with gaining independence from Spain for not only Venezuela, but Colombia, Ecuador, Bolivia, Peru and Panama.    The completed statue, a gift to New York City, was dedicated on June 17, 1884.  On one side of the pedestal was the single word "Bolivar" and on the opposite "Venezuela to the City of New-York, 1883."

At the time The New York Times reported "Upward of 2,000 people witnessed the unveiling of the statue of Gen. Simon Bolivar, in Central Park, yesterday afternoon, and most of them were obliged to stand patiently beneath the pelting rays of the sun."  When the drapings came off the speeches and ceremony went on as planned.  Parks Commissioner Egbert Viele diplomatically pronounced "This statue is not merely a work of art...It is a tribute of esteem from a young republic of South America to her sister in the North."

But in fact everyone, perhaps more so the Venezuelan representatives, were aghast.  Rafael de la Cora's Boliva was a stiff, comic looking figure--what was a century later termed a "monster-piece."

The 1883 statue was, in a word, hideous.  (image from a vintage stereoscope card)

Before long the President of Venezuela, Joaquin Crespo, decided that the statue was "not fitting."  In 1896 his government commissioned Giovanni Turini to execute a replacement.  Completed in 1898, it was no more acceptable.  The New-York Tribune later said "Turini's Bolivar was modeled after a statue at Caracas, a pompous figure seated stiffly on a conventional Roman horse."

The New York Times politely said "A new statue ordered from another sculptor was not altogether satisfactory," while The National Sculpture Society "flatly rejected" the ungainly statue.  It was put in place.  The Venezuelan government refused to pay Turini his agreed-upon $75,000 commission (a rather stunning $2.3 million in today's money).  The New-York Tribune remarked "only $8,000 was paid."

In 1897 the Parks Commission could abide the hideous De la Cova statue no longer and "condemned" it, as worded by The New York Times.  The stone pedestal sat empty for 19 years until on the morning of April 4, 1916 New Yorkers awoke to find a bronze grouping of hounds in place.  In the dark of night a group of about a dozen men helped William Hunt Diedrich hoist his Levriers, or Greyhounds, into place.

Park police were not amused and the following day The New York Times reported "the playing dogs of Paris were thrown ten feet to the ground and 'damaged almost beyond repair.'"  Deiderich lamented that the Parks police had treated the gift "as a pretty woman sometimes spurns a flower."

Deidrich was perhaps unaware that the Venezuelan government had plans for the pedestal.  That year it sponsored a global competition to select a sculptor for a third stab at a respectable rendering of Bolivar.  Art critic Alexander Woollcott, writing in The Delineator a few years later remarked "Venezuela wanted to place a monument to him in Central Park, particularly as a quite painful equestrian statue of Bolivar had previously been taken out of that playground and hidden somewhere by New York's Municipal Art Commission."

Twenty artists competed and the winner was surprising, indeed.  Born in Ogdensburg, New York in 1869 Sally James Farnham had no artistic training.  The daughter of a U.S. Army colonel, she had traveled throughout Europe and Japan as a child where her father took her to art museums.  At the age of 32 she was hospitalized, recovering from a long illness.  The mother of three was bored and her husband, George Paulding Farnham, a jewelry designer for Tiffany & Co., suggested she use modeling clay to while away the time.

After her release from the hospital, Sally kept up her clay modeling.  As it turns out she was a long-time friend of Frederic Remington.  She took him a figure of a Spanish dancer, asking him if it were any good.  "Well, I'll be," he reportedly responded.  "I don't know how you learned it...but she's full of ginger.  Keep it up, Sally."  And she did.

At a time when female sculptors were rare, Farnham received the prestigious commission.  She worked on the 15-foot Bolivar statue in a rented Brooklyn studio while she simultaneously went through a divorce.  She depicted Bolivar in full military dress astride his prancing horse.  The South American described the statue in April 1921 as "shown in the attitude of acknowledging the shouts of an applauding populace, a gallant figure of a soldier and a gentleman."

Sally James Farnham at work in her Brooklyn studio.  The caption reads "The largest statue ever made by a woman." The Delineator, May 1921 (copyright expired)

Five years after winning the contest plans were made for the dedication.  Art critic Alexander Woollcott said Farnham's Bolivar outshown even Anna Hyatt Huntington's Jeanne d'Arc in Riverside Park.  "But this is a loftier figure, this one of Bolivar."  He called the Venezuelan gift a "towering monument that enters the annals of American sculpture as the largest work by a woman which history anywhere records."

The dedication was to be no small affair.  On April 17, 1921 the New-York Tribune announced that "Last week the great bronze was put in place on Bolivar Hill.  President Harding has accepted the invitation to assist at the unveiling on Tuesday."

Five days earlier The New York Herald had begun reporting on the luminaries already arriving in New York for the ceremony.  Dr. Estaben Gil-Borges, Venezuelan Minster of Foreign Relations, along with his wife and three children, arrived on April 11.  On the same ocean liner were five other high-ranking Venezuelan officials.  The newspaper added that now Charles E. Hughs, the Secretary of State, would be joining the President at the unveiling along with other cabinet members.

The unveiling ceremony, on April 19, was grand.  The Presidential party was escorted from the Waldorf Astoria by United States marines, soldiers and sailors and a detachment of sailors from the Brazilian battleship Minas Geraes.   At the park a squad of New York State Guardsmen fired the Presidential salute.  Two little girls, 7-year-old Patricia Paez MacManus and her sister Mariquita Paez MacManus, granddaughters of General Jose Antonio Paez, an associated of Simon Bolivar, pulled the cords to unveil the statue.

This time there was no disappointment.  Sally James Farnham's statue was deemed masterful.  The South American wrote "The bronze horseman fashioned by Mrs. Farnham is declared by all who have seen it to be a great work of art, worthy of our great city."

The Bolivar statue became the site of annual celebrations of the liberator's birthday.  But the beloved statue appeared threatened when President Franklin Roosevelt formed his War Production Board.  On August 7, 1942 Roosevelt endorsed a program to scrap bronze statues and recycle their metal into weapons of war.

The New York Times explained "At his press conference he agreed with reporters that some of the statues and the guns used as monuments would serve a more useful purpose if junked...Some of the statues, he said with a smile, could be replaced after the war with--and here he paused to cough apologetically--something more artistic."

Art critic Edward Alden Jewell, writing in The New York Times on March 7, 1943, warned patriotic New Yorkers not to be too hasty.  "Supposing an inclusive call for scrap bronze to have been sounded, which of the hundreds of statues in our city are to be deemed of particular worth and which are not?  More simply put which are good and which are bad?"  He said "Before Art gives Mars the green light," the merits of the city statues should be weighed  Jewell compiled a jury of one sculptor; an architect; a "widely known collector," Chester Dale; a painter and himself to do just that.

The group was brutally honest in its condemnation of some statues which it said "should go into war's caldron."   Not surprisingly, the Bolivar statue passed with the esteem of the cultured and knowledgeable crew.  (As it turned out, very few bronzes were lost to the war effort.)

In 1945 Mayor Fiorello H. LaGuardia prompted the city to rename Sixth Avenue "The Avenue of the Americas" to honor Pan-American ideals.  A new plaza was designed in Central Park at the head of the avenue and on November 15, 1948 The New York Times announced plans had been approved by the United States State Department to move the statues of Simon Bolivar and José de San Martin to either side of its entrance.  The idea quickly became a political issue.

On September 11, 1949 Oren Root, candidate for Manhattan Borough President, railed against the project's high cost.  He saw no logical reason to move the statues and said "the amount seemed excessive and that the $495,000 might better be used to rehabilitate some school or hospital."

It created a stalemate that was broken by the Venezuelan Government.  On October 19 Parks Commissioner Robert Moses announced that Venezuela had "formally requested" the statue to be moved and offered to pay all expenses.  The $190,000 necessary to move Bolivar left the city taxpayers with a substantially reduced bill.

The second unveiling of the Bolivar statue, on April 19, 1951, was only slightly less impressive than the first.  A parade up Fifth Avenue included 3,000 marchers, 360 Venezuelan military cadets, and American and Venezuelan dignitaries who rode in automobiles.  Five bands joined in the procession as did hundreds of school children.

A crowd estimated at 15,000 pushed in to witness the unveiling.  The New York Times, April 20, 1951

But the best was to come.  The estimated crowd of 15,000 heard a message by President Harry Truman before G. Suarez Flamerich, President of Venezuela, unveiled the statue by pressing a button at Caracas, almost 2,000 miles away.

As had been the case for three decades, the yearly ceremonies on Bolivar's birthday continued for years.  One of the first important sculptures by a female artist, Sally James Farnham's monumental Simon Bolivar holds a commanding spot at the entrance to the Central Park.

photographs by the author

The Thomas and Isabelle Fowler Mansion - 39 East 68th Street

Around 1871 developer John C. Thompson erected a row of seven 25-food wide brownstone-fronted homes at Nos 37 through 49 East 68th Street.   On December 25, 1880 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that eminent New York attorney Benjamin F. Dunning had transferred title to No. 39 to "Isabelle D., wife of Thomas P. Fowler.  The transaction was listed as "gift." 

The Fowler house is at the right.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Isabelle was Dunning's daughter, and the house was an delinquent wedding present.   On April 26, 1876 she had married Thomas Powell Fowler.   To be fair to Dunning, the newlyweds had lived in the house since their marriage; he just took awhile to transfer the title.

Born in Newburgh, New York in 1851, Fowler was the son of Isaac Sebring Fowler and the former Mary Ludlow Powell.  A lawyer, a single case in 1880 may have been responsible for Fowler's career changing directions.  He represented William H Vanderbilt in his battle for control of the Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati & Indianapolis Railroad.  In 1881, just months after moving into their new home, Fowler was elected director of the Chenango and Allegheny Railroad.  By 1884 he was a director of the West Pennsylvania and Chenengo Connecting Railroads and of the New York, Ontario and Western.  In 1886 he was elected president of the latter railroad.

Thomas Powell Fowler - The Black Diamond, January 3, 1903 (copyright expired)

The Fowlers would have seven children; daughters Ruth, Isabel, Katherine, Eleanor, and sons F. Dunning, Ludlow and Thomas.  The family maintained a summer estate, Belair, upstate near Warwick.

Fowler, of course, did not abruptly abandon his legal career.  Interestingly, he not only represented industrial moguls like Vanderbilt; but what today would be deemed a "celebrity" clientele.  On November 22, 1882, for instance, The New York Times reported "Mr. Thomas Powell Fowler, the legal adviser of Mrs. [Lily] Langtry, gave that lady a lunch yesterday afternoon at his residence, No. 39 East Sixty-eighth-street."  The world-famous actress was not the only well-known theatrical name on the guest list.  Oscar Wilde was there as well.  The Times noted "Covers were laid for 12, and the menu was prepared by Pinard.  The parlors were elaborately decorated with flowers."

A luncheon on November 23, the following year had a broad mixture of guests.  The guest of honor was London railroad magnate James McHenry and among the guests were Lord and Lady Bury, artist Albert Bierstadt, novelist Bram Stoker (best known for his Dracula, published in 1897), publisher Charles Scribner and several military generals.  The Times noted "Behind the palms in the drawing-room were placed large Louis Quatorze candelabras, lighted with red wax candles, producing a charming effect...Stub's orchestra played a selection of operatic music during the lunch, being hidden behind a mass of ferns and flowers."

The Fowlers' names routinely appeared on the passenger lists of steamships headed to Paris or London.  But while at home, Isabelle, like all wealthy wives, involved herself in worthy projects.  She was corresponding secretary for the Association for the Relief of Respectable Aged, Indigent Females in the City of New York, for instance.

As the turn of the century neared, her attention turned to her growing daughters and their debuts.  She was no doubt infuriated when the New-York Tribune inexcusably transposed her daughter's middle and last names on December 13, 1899.  "Mrs. Thomas Powell Fowler of No. 39 East Sixty-eighth-st., will give a reception at her home on Saturday afternoon next, December 16, to introduce her daughter, Miss Isabel Fowler Wilson."

Isabelle was among the socialites involved in running the Cotillion of Eighty.  Originally a dancing class for privileged young women, it grew to include country parties, dances at places like Delmonico's, and theater parties.  Isabelle routinely acted as a chaperon for the events.

The first of the Fowler children to marry was Isabel.  Her engagement to Francis F. Palmer was announced in September 1903.  The newlyweds moved into a mansion at No. 74 Riverside Drive.  She would assist her mother in receiving the guests at Katherine's debutante dance at Delmonico's two years later.  The Sun remarked on December 17, 1905 "The big ballroom was adorned with palms and flowers."

As Katherine's sisters grew into young womanhood, they slipped into their own social positions  On January 21, 1906 the New-York Tribune reported "Mrs. Thomas Powell Fowler and the Misses Fowler will hold receptions on Tuesdays, January 23 and 30, at their home, No. 39 East 68th-st."

Eleanor was the next to make her debut.  Following a reception in the house in December 1908 was followed by a dinner and theater party, "to which about forty young people were invited," wrote the New-York Tribune.

Katherine's marriage to Dunlevy Milbank in 1910 was quickly followed by Eleanor's wedding the following year.  Like her sisters, her marriage to Albert F. Maurice took place in St. James's Protestant Episcopal Church on Madison Avenue.

By now the old brownstone house, a blend of Italianate and neo-Grec styles, was noticeably out of architectural fashion.  In 1913 the Fowlers commissioned Fred H. Dodge to give it a significant facelift.  The result, a six-story limestone-faced American basement mansion left no hint of its former self.  The focus of the two-story rusticated base was not the understated entrance, but the piano nobile, or second floor.  Here three sets of French doors, set within arched openings, were faced by stone balustraded balconettes.    The nearly unadorned third through fifth floors featured exaggerated keystones which required no other ornamentation.   The sixth floor took the form of a copper-sheathed mansard behind a stone balcony which was upheld by a bracketed cornice.  Inside were 28 rooms and nine baths.

On June 27, 1915 The Sun reported that Isabelle had arrived at Tuxedo Park.  By the end of the summer season she had joined Thomas at Belair.  It was there, on October 12, that he died at the age of 64.

Isabelle lived on in the 68th Street house with her unmarried children.  She and Ruth moved among society as a pair.  On June 9, 1921 the New-York Tribune reported "Mrs. Thomas Powell Fowler and Miss Ruth D. Fowler have closed their home at 37 [sic] East Sixty-eighth Street, and are at their country place at Warwick, N.Y."  Later that season, in September, the newspaper noted they had arrived at Lenox.

F. Dunning had by now moved to San Francisco.  His brothers, Ludlow and Thomas drew little attention to themselves.  Immediately upon graduating from Princeton University in 1917 Ludlow had served in the U.S. Navy during the war.  In 1921 he graduated from New York University's Law School.  When his engagement to Elsie Larned Blatchford was announced on April 5, 1926, The New York Times mentioned that he was "the brother of Thomas Powell Fowler of that address."  The newlyweds moved into No. 39 with the Fowler family.

Entertainments in the house focused most often on charitable works, such as the annual Lenten sewing classes of the Greer Club, an organization founded in 1920 "to maintain a residence for girl students and serve as a community centre for young people of the Episcopalian faith."  It was possibly his consideration of the privacy of his family that prompted Thomas to hold his entertainments elsewhere.  When he hosted a dinner on July 18, 1928, for instance,it was held at the Ritz-Carlton.

Ludlow was a respected attorney with Battle, Levy & Newman in 1939 when he became one of several victims of scam artist Paul Finkelstein.  The 30-year old walked into the law office and claimed he could provide choice liquors at $15 a case below than the market price.  Fowler was impressed and gave Finkelstein $100 (more in the neighborhood of $1,760 today).  "He instructed the caller to deliver the goods at his up-State home," wrote The New York Times on November 4, 1939.

A few days later Finkelstein returned to the office, telling Fowler the truck had overturned, sending the prized booze onto the pavement.  But he assured him that he would replace the order, and slickly managed to increase it by another $85.  It was the last Fowler heard of Finkelstein until he was arrested on Fowler's complaint.

Perhaps not wanting his name linked to excessive drinking, Fowler gave his name as Ludlow S. Flolet, while correctly listing his 68th Street address.  At the time of Finkelstein's arrest The Times noted "The police said they learned of other victims and that the man had a 'sucker list,' in his pocket."

At mid-century the third generation of Fowlers were coming of age at No. 39 East 68th Street.  Katherine and Dunlevy Milbank sold their lavish mansion at No. 1026 Fifth Avenue and moved back into the Fowler house where they had started their married lives.  And following Francis Palmer's death, Isabel and her son, George moved in.

On January 27 1951 Ludlow S. Fowler, Jr. was married to Elinor Alice Michaelsen.  The ceremony took place in St. James's Church, where his aunts had been married and where his grandparents' funerals had taken place.  George Palmer's engagement to Elizabeth Jackaman was announced on October 9, 1959.

One week later, on October 16, Dunlevy Milbank died at the age of 81.  He left Katherine one-half of his estate, including their Charleston, South Carolina, home.  The Presbyterian Hospital received $1 million and Yale University was left a $250,000 bequest.

The following year, on August 11, Ruth Dunning Fowler died in the house where she was born 83 years earlier.  Ludlow died on April 12, 1961.  Somewhat shockingly, Ludlow S. Fowler, Jr.'s wedding took place in the house the following month, on May 27.   It was a striking breach of mourning protocol and The Times noted "Because of the recent death of the bridegroom's father, only the immediate families attended the ceremony."

Katherine was the last of the Fowlers to occupy No. 39.  On April 13, 1967 The New York Times reported "Mrs. Katherine Fowler Milbank, a patron of music and a benefactor of young working women here, died of a heart attack yesterday morning in the East Side town house in which she was born 82 years ago, on March 4, 1885."  The article added "The six-story, whitestone house at 39 East 68th Street, where Mrs. Milbank lived all her life, was a wedding present to her mother and father in 1876."  Like almost all of the religious events in the family, her funeral was held in St. James's Episcopal Church.  She and Dunlevy had donated its spire bells and carillon in memory of her parents; and the cross was a memorial to Ludlow.

In November 1967 the house was sold to attorney Roy Marcus Cohn for $325,000 cash--around $2.4 million today.  Cohn lived in the upper floors and moved his law offices, Saxe, Bacon & Bolan, into the house.  Cohn had made himself a household name as the chief counsel for Senator Joseph McCarthy during the Army-McCarthy hearings of 1954, as a U.S. Department of Justice prosecutor in the espionage trial of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, and as corporate lawyer for a budding Donald J. Trump.

 It was not long before Cohn's name appeared in the press for unflattering reasons.  On November 23, 1968 The Times reported "Roy M. Cohn was indicted yesterday on charges of wire and mail fraud, and of conspiring to pay a state court official $75,000 to obtain favorable results in suits...A 10-count indictment returned by a Federal grand jury here also charged Mr. Cohn, a lawyer-financier, with filing false reports with the Securities and Exchange Commission.

When Donald Trump was charged by the Justice Department of violating the Fair Housing Act in 1973 (it alleged he "made false 'no vacancy' statements to African Americans for apartments), Cohn represented the developer in a $100 million countersuit against the Government.  It called the charges "irresponsible and baseless."  He lost the countersuit and settled out of court.  Another of Cohn's highly-visible clients was Rupert Murdock. 

Federal investigators charged Cohn three times in the 1970's and '80's with misconduct, including witness tampering and perjury.  But his real problems began in April 1986 when he was sued by the Federal Government for $7 million in income taxes, interest and penalties.  The New York Times, on April 4, said it was the climax of an "unusually long tax dispute between the Internal Revenue Service and Mr. Cohn, who has represented many well-known clients, ranging from millionaire developers to reputed mobsters."

Cohn denied he owned either No. 39 East 68th Street or his Greenwich, Connecticut country home and called the charges "a pile of baloney."  Nevertheless he was soon disbarred for unethical conduct.  Before the case could be settled, Cohn died of AIDS on August 2, 1986 at the age of 59.  Aware that his death was imminent, the embittered lawyer intended to get posthumous revenge over the Government.  Roger Stone was quoted by The New Yorker journalist Jeffrey Toobin saying, "He told me his absolute goal was to die completely broke and owing millions to the I.R.S.  He succeeded in that."

On October 15, 1987 No. 39 was sold for $3.7 million "with most of the money being held under court order pending the outcome of an income-tax case," as reported by The Times.  It was the end of a colorful chapter in the house, which continues as a single-family residence today.

photographs by the author