The Unrecognizable Augustus Kountze Mansion - 238 Madison Avenue

 

photograph by Ted Leather

Born in Ohio on November 19, 1826, Augustus Kountze worked in his father's grocery store as a young man.  With greater aspirations, he traveled west in 1854--first to Iowa and then to Omaha, Nebraska in 1855.  Starting in real estate, he branched out to banking and railroads.  On June 14, 1859, he married Catharine Ruth.  Their romance almost assuredly had been conducted by letters for the past five years, since Catharine, too, was an Ohio native.

By 1861 Kountze was influential and wealthy.  He owned the Omaha Horse Railway Company, was treasurer of the Nebraska Territory, and of the State of Nebraska from 1861 through 1869.  By the time he and Catharine moved to New York City in 1872, he had amassed significant land holdings throughout the Midwest and West.

In Manhattan, Augustus Kountze and his brothers, Charles, Herman and Luther, established the Kountze Brothers Bank, of which Augustus was the senior member.  He was, as well, president of the Boston, Hoosac Tunnel and Western Railway Company, and a principal of the Omaha and Northwestern Railroad. 

Augustus Kountze, from the collection of The Stephen H. Hart Research Center

Augustus and Catharine established their home at 21 West 48th Street, just west of Fifth Avenue.  Then, in 1889, they purchased the 35-foot-wide brownstone mansion at 238 Madison Avenue.  Four-stories tall above an English basement, its stoop rose to a columned portico.  The mansion's neo-Grec design included beefy lintels with incised decorations.  Paired corbels supported the cornice.

Before moving in, the Kountzes made substantial interior renovations.  As the work progressed, Catharine visited the showrooms of Pottier & Stymus, one of New York City's most celebrated cabinetmakers, which outfitted the mansion with suites of elegant furniture.  Tax records placed the value of the furnishings at $23,691.80, or about $865,000 in 2026 terms.   The Kountzes filled the mansion with valuable paintings, sculptures and "bric-a-brac."  The same tax documents valued the "paintings &c." even higher than the custom-made furniture, at $24,200.

The Kountzes' residence sat within one of the most fashionable sections of the city.  Taking up the northern half of the block was the massive Theodore A. Havemeyer house, and diagonally to the east at 231 Madison Avenue was the William E. Dodge mansion.

Iron fencing and a pair of carriage gates separate the Theodore A. Havemeyer property (right) from the three mansions to the south.  The Kountze residence is the middle house, just right of the lamppost.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

Katherine Ruth Smith, the daughter of Catharine's sister, had lived with the Kountzes since 1860, when she was six years old.  The New York Times later remarked, "Although she was never legally adopted, she was regarded as their daughter."

The family moved into their renovated mansion in time for Katherine's 1892 wedding.  As the date neared, Augustus became ill, The New York Sun saying he "has not been a thoroughly well man for several weeks past."  Nevertheless, Katharine was married to Karl Walther Neuhoff "in the Louis XVI room" of the Kountze mansion on April 7, 1892.

The New York Herald called it the "prettiest of the spring weddings thus far," adding, "The large front drawing room was decorated with Marguerites, lilies, azaleas, hydrangeas, and purple orchids."  Those orchids may have inspired Catharine Kountze's outfit.  "Mrs. Kountze, in a gown of purple velvet, trimmed with passementerie and white lace, held the bridal bouquet of lilies of the valley," said the article.

The reception was brief--lasting from 4:30 until 6:00--but it was too much for Augustus Kountze.  Six days later, on April 13, The Sun reported that he "was taken with a chill on Thursday night at the wedding reception of his wife's niece, Miss Katharine Ruth Smith, which was held at his house.  That night he was carried to his bed, to which he has been confined every since."

Kountze lingered for three weeks before dying "of a complication of disorders," as worded by the New York Herald, on April 30, 1892.  The funeral was held in the Madison Avenue mansion on May 4.  The delay made it possible for some mourners to reach New York City.  Among those attending the funeral, for instance, was Colorado Senator Henry M. Teller.

Interestingly, the deed to 238 Madison Avenue was not in Catharine's name, as was common among affluent couples, but in her husband's.  Augustus's will declared that Catharine was given "for life" the use of the residence, "furniture, &c., paintings, &c."

Katharine and Karl Neuhoff remained in the mansion with Catharine.  A mysterious burglary took place on December 11, 1904.  The New York Times said the family was a dinner and the servants occupied when "a sneak thief" somehow entered the house.  Catharine told police that valuable articles were left behind, prompting police to surmise (ungrammatically) that the burglar "hurriedly took only what he thought he could realize a smug sum on and fled before the family left the dining table."  The items stolen, said the article, "included a mink collar and muff, a silver smelling bottle, two rare porcelain boxes and one gold bonbon box, a gold-framed lorgnette, a gold chain, and a chain of gun metal."  The value would translate to about $37,300 today.

The Kountze mansion continued to be the setting of polite entertainments.  On January 23, 1914, Catherine hosted a dinner, and on March 25, 1915, The New York Times reported, "Mrs. Karl W. Neuhoff of 238 Madison Avenue gave a luncheon yesterday, followed by a matinée party."

Considering the conflict raging in Europe, one event in the house was especially newsworthy.  On March 29, 1916, the New York Herald reported that Karl Neuhoff "gave a small dinner at his home, 238 Madison avenue, last evening in honor of Count Johann von Bernstorff, the German Ambassador."  Among the other 12 guests were Dr. Heinreich F. Albert, the fiscal agent of Germany, and Captain Ewald Hecker, head of the German Red Cross.  The article mentioned, "After the dinner the members of the party went to the Metropolitan Opera House to witness a German production of a Shakespearian play."

The year prior to that function, the Havemeyer mansion was demolished to be replaced by a 16-story business building.  With the once exclusive Murray Hill neighborhood being invaded by commerce, in April 1917 Augustus Kountze's estate placed 238 Madison Avenue on the market.  The changes to the neighborhood were reflected in the realtor's advertisement.  It said in part, "Can be used for business or profitably altered for business on lower floors with apartments above."

Catharine Kountze and the Neuhoffs moved into the Plaza Hotel where Catharine died the following year on April 28, 1918.  The new owner leased the Madison Avenue mansion to the National Emergency Relief Society.  The house would be used as the society's headquarters and for use by "soldiers or sailors," according to The Evening World.

This photograph taken around 1928 shows the business building on the site of the Havemeyer mansion.  The National Emergency Relief Society had not altered the former Kountze house, two doors to the south.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

The society welcomed servicemen stopping in Manhattan on their way to or from the war.  On November 28, 1919, for instance, The Sun announced a dance "for men in uniform" to be held here that evening.  The National Emergency Relief Society remained a few years following the end of the war.  On January 2, 1920, it held one of its final servicemen's dances.

In 1922, F. A. Lawlor operated his gallery here, selling "paintings, porcelains, bronzes, furniture, ship models."  The parlor floor was home to the National Democratic Club.  It would remain at least through 1928.

A significant remodeling by architect J. A. Berlinger in 1937 resulted in a multipurpose building.  The stoop was removed, two commercial spaces were installed at street level, and the upper floors converted to 14 apartments.  The neo-Grec details, including the cornice, were removed.

In 1940, the Stew Bar moved into one of the store spaces.  It was supplanted in the mid-1950s by Giambelli, an Italian restaurant.  The New York Times food critic John Canaday wrote on January 3, 1957, "'Eating well' at Giambelli means consuming food that ranges from above average to excellent in an atmosphere that is unfailingly delightful."

And, apparently, the restaurant was delightful.  It survived for decades, until Madison Bistro, a "restaurant Francais," opened here in June 1990.

As early as 2005, the Candy Club, a frozen dessert shop, occupied the space next door to Madison Bistro.  Just before  closing up at around 10:00 on the night of August 23 that year, the proprietor was on the telephone with his wife.  Suddenly, a "man dressed in dark jeans, a long white shirt and a white hat" entered and shot the owner twice in the chest, as reported by the Staten Island Advance.  The victim was taken to Bellevue Hospital in critical condition.

Madison Bistro remained through 2024, by which time the Rico Bagel shop had moved into the other space.  Margaux replaced Madison Bistro.

photo via loopnet.com

In the meantime, the brownstone facade of 238 Madison Avenue has been painted.  Squeezed between 20th century commercial buildings, it is the last remnant of the refined period when this Murray Hill block was home to some of Manhattan's wealthiest citizens.

many thanks to reader Ted Leather for suggesting this post

The 1931 Rothman's Pawn Shop Building - 149 Eighth Avenue

 

Born in the Chelsea area of New York City on March 6, 1833, Rev. Stephen Merritt Jr. joined his father's undertaking business in the converted house at 149 Eighth Avenue in 1851.  The Federal-style residence was erected around 1828 and would have been a close match to the abutting houses at 145 and 147 Eighth Avenue.  Following his father's death in 1874, Merritt moved the operation to 219 Eighth Avenue.  

At the turn of the century, Samuel Epstein's glass and mirror business occupied the ground floor of the vintage building.  But the post-World War I years saw it sorely neglected.  The city deemed the structure "unsafe" in 1927, 1929 and 1930.

Apparently that third violation was the last straw for city inspectors.  The building was demolished and the 149 Eighth Avenue Corp. hired architect H. Hurwit to replace it with a one-story store.  Hurwit's Art Moderne design included sharply-angled arcade windows that provided ample display space for window-shopping pedestrians.  Above, a high, scalloped parapet gave the diminutive building a false sense of height.

Hurwit's stylish design was visible for only a short time.  The building was leased to Rothman's Pawn Shop.  Its aggressive signage left only the show windows visible.

Steel supports reinforce the abutting buildings in 1940.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The intentional chaos of Rothman's Pawn Shop caught the eye of photographer Berenice Abbott on May 18, 1938.  She snapped photographs of the building as part of her Changing New York, a collection of images funded by the Federal Art Project. 

This image by Berenice Abbott clearly shows the arcade windows sitting on sleek, two-toned Art Moderne bases.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

The Eighth Avenue neighborhood underwent a renaissance in the third quarter of the century.  After having been home to Rothman's for half a century (during which the billboard-sized sign prevented masonry repairs), in 1983 149 Eighth Avenue was converted to an "eating and drinking establishment," as worded by the Department of Buildings.  H. Hurwit's Art Moderne arcade windows were replaced with a flat facade.  The alterations anticipated the August 5th opening of Pat Rogers's and Bob Barbero's restaurant, Rogers and Barbero. 

Two months later, on October 3, The New York Times restaurant critic Suzanne Daley recalled, "Opening night was a blur of handshakes and congratulations."  The owners, she wrote, "had transformed what used to be a pawn shop into a restaurant, covering the crumbling black-brick facade with pale beige stucco, rebuilding the floors and the walls, spending nearly $350,000."

The partners had signed a 15-year lease on the building.  Their goal, they said, was to establish a neighborhood restaurant serving regional dishes and "some of what the American chefs are coming up with."

There was another change taking place in the Chelsea neighborhood.  By the 1990s, the gay community had greatly moved northward from Greenwich Village and at least two gay bars opened along Eighth Avenue.  In 1993, Pat Rogers and Bob Barbero renovated their restaurant and renamed it Food Bar.  The changes were intended to attract a gay clientele.

On November 10, 1993, Newsday titled an article "Gays and the Restaurant Scene."  Bob Barbero told the journalist, "A lot of people who come in here now know each other and go from table to table during the course of the night.  It is much more of a social scene, more outrageous than our old restaurant."

The popular Food Bar was both "outrageous" and highly successful.  photograph by Gigi Cohen, Newsday, November 10, 1993.

The importance of Food Bar in the Chelsea gay community was reflected in a benefit held here in June 1999.  The New York Times said, "Kathleen Turner, Martha Plimpton and Joan Osborne will speak at a benefit for the Planned Parenthood Federation of America and Planned Parenthood of New York City."  Following the speeches, said the article, would be "a performance of Part 1 of 'The Cider House Rules.'"

A renovation completed in 2010 included a new storefront and a coat of charcoal-colored paint.  Today a Mexican restaurant occupies the space.

photographs by the author

The 1926 Barclay Hotel - 111 East 48th Street

 

photograph by Ajay Suresh

The renovation of Grand Central Depot to Grand Central Terminal sparked a burst of development in the neighborhood, known as Terminal City.  A second wave that erupted in the 1920s included a 14-story "stores and apartment hotel," as described in the plans.  Fred Bielsaski was president of the Barclay Park Corporation.  In 1925, the syndicate hired the architectural firm of Cross & Cross to design the $3 million project at the northwest corner of 48th Street and Lexington Avenue.  (Millionaire architect Eliot Cross not only designed the building, but he sat on the hotel's board of directors with highly-visible moguls like W. Seward Webb Jr., John R. Todd and James M. Todd, and Weld M. Stevens.)

The U-shaped, Renaissance Revival-style structure was completed the following year.  Its midsection atop a three-story stone base was clad in brown brick.  The single-story, stone-faced top section sat upon a molded cornice and was decorated with massive full-relief rosettes and Renaissance-inspired panels.

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

On April 10, 1926, The New York Times reported, "The new Barclay Hotel at 111 East Forty-eighth Street will be formally opened at a dinner and dance on Oct. 21."  But on the day of that article, the first residents were already moving in.  The Barclay Hotel was a residential hotel--meaning that residents had long-term leases, like apartment dwellers, but enjoyed the amenities of transient hotels, like maid service.

New York Evening Post, September 25, 1926 (copyright expired)

Among the initial residents were Morgan Belmont and his wife, the former Margaret Frances Andrews.  Belmont was born in 1892, the son of millionaire August Belmont Jr. and Bessie Hamilton Morgan.  The couple's daughter, Margaret Andrews Morgan Belmont, was born in 1917.  The family's country home was in Westbury, Long Island.

Morgan Belmont in his World War I Army uniform.  War Records of the Knickerbocker Club 1914-1918 (1922 - copyright expired)

Alice Wheelock and Erwin Hoy Watts moved in following their wedding on October 1, 1927.  Alice was the granddaughter of Dr. and Mrs. Morgan Dix on her maternal side and Dr. and Mrs. George G. Wheelock on her father's.  Born in 1903, the young groom was the son of cotton goods magnate Ridley Watts and was a member of the Chemical National Bank.

Radio stations were often installed in upscale hotels and on October 11, 1927, The New York Times reported, "An hour of luncheon music will be broadcast at 1 o'clock daily except Sunday over WABC direct from the Barclay Hotel."

Andrew H. Nutting, another initial resident, was the son of Andrew Jackson Nutting, founder of A. J. Nutting & Co.  The senior Nutting died on September 4, 1924 and his estate was divided equally among Andrew and his two sisters.  Like the Morgan Belmonts, residents of the Barclay Hotel spent their summers in their country homes or fashionable resorts.  On March 13, 1928, The New York Times reported that Andrew H. Nutting had purchased "the Hanna property at Boar's Head, Rye Beach, N. H., and will erect a residence there this Spring."

A postcard depicted the Nutting country home.

Resident Robert J. Upson graduated from Princeton University in 1921.  He joined the National Bank of Commerce in 1923 and became its assistant trust officer in 1927.  The unmarried 29-year-old went to Flushing, New York on March 29, 1928 to visit Charles G. Muller.  The next night at around 11:00, he left in a taxicab heading for the train station to return to Manhattan.

The following morning, his body was found on the elevated railroad crossing about 200 yards from the Flushing station.  Mysteriously, The New York Times reported, "he had been run over by a train at about 11:30 o'clock Thursday evening."

The Barclay Hotel reserved a number of suites for well-heeled transient guests.  Arthur Morgan Smith was described by The New York Times as a "Harvard graduate and wealthy Clevelander."  On April 10, 1929, he attended a bridge party held by socialite Florence Schuette in the Hotel Marguery.   Smith was smitten by another guest, Mrs. Robert L. Brown, who was staying in the Plaza Hotel.  The party broke up at just before 2:30 a.m.  A guest offered Smith a ride, "but he refused, saying it was just a short distance to his hotel, and he would walk," reported The New York Times.  In fact, Smith was intent on escorting Mrs. Brown to her hotel.

Equally intent on accompanying Mrs. Brown was another guest, Samuel E. Bell, a "well-to-do oil producer."  Bell won the argument, but not before shoving Smith to the pavement as he climbed into a taxi with Mrs. Brown.  Smith was arrested for intoxication a few minutes later on Park Avenue.  Later it became clear that he was not drunk--he had suffered a fractured skull in the fall to the curb.  He died the following afternoon.

Two views of the Art Deco cafe.  photographs by Samuel H. Gottscho, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The ballroom and meeting rooms could be rented by groups or, in some cases, individuals.  Such was the case in February 1937 when Amelia Earhart held a press conference to announce her intentions to fly a Lockheed Electra airplane around the world.  Fred Noonan, a Pan American Airways navigator, she said, would accompany her as navigator.

Ironically, following Earhart's disappearance in July her husband, George P. Putnam, moved into a suite in the Barclay Hotel where he followed the newspaper accounts of the search for his wife.  The New York Times said, "One, bearing the headline 'Sold Down the River,' essentially blamed Putnam for his wife's death, asserting that her failure to find Howland Island was because of inadequate equipment."  According to his assistant, Harold McCracken, "Then he took all the clippings and let them slip out of his hands into a wastepaper basket."

In October 1938, the Cornell Club of New York leased the 30,000-square-foot third floor.  It was accessed by a private entrance at 107 East 48th Street.  On October 17, The New York Times reported that Cross & Cross would remodel the floor "to provide a main dining room and three private rooms, grill, library and lounges, card and billiard rooms and a ladies' department."  There were, as well, 39 bedrooms and suites for resident members.

By midcentury, the Barclay Hotel was increasingly hosting transient guests.  The wealthy visitors, in some instances, became attractive targets for robbers.  On October 11, 1951, The New York Times reported that $10,400 worth of jewelry had "disappeared" from a suite.  Henry Rand, vice president of the International Shoe Company in St. Louis, and his wife and daughter had stepped out.  When they returned around midnight, they discovered the theft. 

Six months later, on April 29, 1952, the newspaper reported, "Jewelry valued at $2,700 was stolen last night from Sheik Asad Al Facih, Saudi-Arabian Ambassador to the United States."  Included in the heist were "an Indian necklace set with rubies and pearls and valued at $2,000, and a man's gold-and-ruby ring valued at $650 and a man's wedding ring valued at $50," said that article.  The total value would translate to about $32,700 today.

At the time of the article, the management offered a unique service to its transient guests.  On November 9, 1955, The New York Times noted, "The Barclay Hotel cares for transient's canaries; boards them in the lobby cage with its own yellow birds and finches."  That cage had become an attraction.  Decades later, architectural critic David W. Dunlap would recall his visit to New York City with his mother at the age of nine in 1962.  They stayed at the Barclay Hotel and Dunlap wrote in his diary, "In the middle of the lobby there is a cage of 9 song birds."

The Barclay Hotel continued to be the permanent home to well-heeled residents over the subsequent decades, among them actress Amy Busby who debuted on the stage in 1889; Municipal Court Justice George L. Genung; and author Norman Beasley.

The Cornell Club moved out in the mid-1960s and the third floor space was next occupied by the Manhattan Club, who moved from its clubhouse, the former Jerome Mansion, on Madison Avenue in November 1966.  

In July 1978, InterContinental Hotels purchased the Barclay Hotel.  The following year, $37 million in financing was acquired "in connection with the purchase and planned renovation," reported The New York Times.  Saying the renovations would be completed in 1981, the article noted, "the company planned to make the Barclay the flagship of its worldwide chain of 80 hotels."

The hotel was renovated again, re-opening in April 2016.  In reporting on the renovations in The New York Times on February 28, David W. Dunlap remembered the cage of canaries and finches, saying, "the song birds are long gone."  The InterContinental designers, however, gave a nod to the beloved fixture.  The new revolving door mimicked the cage with swirling birds.

photo by Pablo Enriquez for The New York Times, April 28, 2016

Two new ballrooms on the second floor necessitated the removal of the lobby's dome.  The exterior of the hotel, "as confident and debonair as Gene Kelly on a dance floor," as described by journalist Christopher Gray, was not touched.

photograph by Jim Henderson

many thanks to reader Kevin Cross for suggesting this post.

The 1894 Elmendorf Reformed Chruch - 171 East 121st Street

 

photo by Anthony Bellov

The Harlem Reformed Low Dutch Church was founded in 1660.  Its third house of worship was erected on the northwest corner of Boston Road (today's Third Avenue) and 121st Street in 1825.  Designed by Martin E. Thompson, it was described by the Reformed Church in America a century later as "a frame colonial church."   Its clapboard, neo-Georgian design was fronted by a dignified columned porch.

Martin E. Thompson's wooden church sat within a rural landscape.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

In 1884 the once bucolic Harlem neighborhood was seeing rapid development.  In an astonishing and highly difficult move, the trustees of the Harlem Reformed Low Dutch Church turned its structure on its axis.  Its Greek-inspired portico now faced East 121st Street.  (The new configuration left the valuable corner property vacant and ripe for lucrative developing.)

Reverend Joachim Elmendorf took the pulpit in 1886, at a time when the district's burgeoning population necessitated an additional Dutch Reformed congregation.  A year earlier, construction had commenced of what would be called the Second Collegiate Church on West 123rd Street and Lenox Avenue.  The Harlem Reformed Low Dutch Church was renamed the First Collegiate Church.

The influential Rev. Joachim Elmendorf was born in 1827.  (original source unknown)

In 1893, the congregation commissioned architect John Ireland to design a multi-purpose parish house next door at 169-171 East 121st Street.  Completed the following year, the L-shaped structure was design in the neo-Classical style.  The western section hugged the property line, its second story taking the form of an imposing Greek temple.  Here shallow Doric pilasters separated the tall, fully-arched openings below a modillioned triangular pediment.  The building was accessed by an arched entrance flanked by paired Doric pilasters.  The second floor of this section was dominated by arched windows embraced by a large arch.

image via the New York Public Library

The stone facade disguised the fact that the parish house and Sunday School building was built mostly of wood.  The flammable material nearly caused its destruction at 6:05 on the evening of January 3, 1907.  The Annual Report of the Committee on Fire Underwriters described the blaze that broke out in the "two story frame building" as a "prominent fire."

The parish house snuggled up to the western edge of the 1825 church building, which now faced 121st Street.  New Harlem Past and Present, 1903 (copyright expired)

Reverend Joachim Elmendorf died on June 19, 1908 at the age of 81.  It is unclear if he lived to see the renovations that would transform the parish house and Sunday School building into the congregation's worship space.  The 1939 Reformed Church in America would recall that the "parish house...was rebuilt [in] 1907 and dedicated [in] 1908."  With the renovations completed, Martin E. Thompson's magnificent 1825 church next door was razed.

In 1940, a vacant lot marked the site of the original church.  The property remains a vacant lot today.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Henry P. Hammoxan attended services here on Sunday night, May 30, 1909.  But his presence was not prompted by religious piety, but by a drunken mistake.  The New-York Tribune explained that he "thought when he went into the church and began to climb the stairs to the gallery that he was in the Sylvan lodging house, which is next door, and where he intended to sleep off the result of a day's hard work picking the lemon peel out of high balls."

Suddenly the service was interrupted by a horrific crash that caused some worshippers to think, according to the New-York Tribune, "the gallery was falling down."  Just as Henry Hammoxan made his way to the top step, the organ bellowed the first notes of a hymn.  So startled was the inebriated Henry "that he just fell back and went downstairs end over end."  He suffered a broken ankle and was taken to Harlem Hospital.

On November 2, 1911, The New York Times reported that the Harlem Collegiate Reformed Church was "to change its corporate name to the Reformed Church of Harlem."  The Second Collegiate Church now took that name and the First Collegiate Church was renamed the Elmendorf Chapel.  The New-York Tribune explained, "it has been made a mission to the Lenox Avenue Collegiate Reformed Church, at 123d street."

The changing face of the Harlem neighborhood was reflected in a comment in the 1915 New York Charities Directory.  The listing said that Elmendorf Chapel "maintains a gymnasium and industrial classes."  Industrial classes provided instruction in skills that would provide young boys an income later in life--like woodworking and metal working, for instance.

Reverend Floyd Decker, who was installed in January 1912, was "active among the poor and sick of the upper East Side," according to the New-York Tribune.  Born in Sussex County, New Jersey in 1878, he graduated from the New Brunswick Theological Seminary in 1901.  Under his pastorship, the Elmendorf Chapel congregation provided aid to sick and indigent Harlemites.  On the day before Thanksgiving in 1920, for instance, "food was distributed by children of the Sunday school," reported The New York Times.

On March 5, 1934, the congregation celebrated its 40th anniversary in the renovated building.  In reporting on its rededication, The New York Times reminded readers that Elmendorf Chapel was "one of New York's oldest churches, tracing its origin back to 1665 [sic]."

At the time of the article, two congregants in particular had been long-time members.  John G. Williams took the job of the church's organist and choir master in 1888.  Never married, he was born around 1855 in New York City and "was a pupil of its leading piano and organ teachers of the time," according to The New York Times.  The newspaper said, "Several generations of choir boys, in whom he took not only a professional but a personal interest, came under his guidance during his long service."  In September 1941, Williams became ill and he died two weeks later after serving Elmendorf Chapel for 53 years.

Isaac D. Hammond became a sexton in 1890.  Like Williams had done, he remained in his position until his death in February 1947 after 57 years of service.

In the second half of the century, the Elmendorf congregation became an independent church.  Its name was again changed, now known as the Elmendorf Reformed Church.

Around 1668, the Low Dutch Reformed Church of Harlem established what a 1910 sketch described as "a negro burying ground" at around today's First Avenue between 126th and 127th Streets.  As Harlem developed, the location was forgotten and in the 20th century a New York City Transit bus depot was erected on top of it.  Then, early in the 21st century, interest was renewed.  On January 19, 2009, The New York Times reported that the African burial ground was "awaiting discovery," saying, "There will be no way to know for certain until the soil is dug up, but the prospect of such a discovery is being greeted both anxiously and eagerly by a couple of stewards of Harlem history."

Among those speaking out was Reverend Patricia A. Singletary, pastor of the Elmendorf Reformed Church, who insisted that the site should be protected and commemorated should the cemetery be confirmed.  She told The New York Times, "Remember, this site represents the beginning of Harlem's existence."

An archeological survey, indeed, confirmed that the former bus terminal sat upon the Low Dutch Reformed Church of Harlem's "negro burying ground."  The Elmendorf Reformed Church joined with other groups to form the Harlem African Burial Ground Task Force to protect the site.

photograph by Beyond My Ken

The Elmendorf Reformed Church continues its work in the former 1894 parish house.  Displayed in the sanctuary is a bell, cast in the Netherlands in the 17th century.  

many thanks to Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post

The 1899 Henry Schwarzwalder House - 24 West 76th Street

 

Real estate developer James Carlew erected five sumptuous, 25-foot-wide townhouses on West 76th Street between Central Park West and Columbus Avenue in 1898-99.  Designed by Cleverdon & Putzel, each of the residences cost Carlew $40,000 each to construct, or about $1.6 million in 2026 terms.  

Faced in limestone, 24 West 76th Street was, like the others, four stories tall above an English basement.  Cleverdon & Putzel splashed its Renaissance Revival design with Beaux Arts details, like frothy cartouches above the parlor floors.  A dog-legged box stoop rose to a columned portico.  The bowed second floor oriel was fronted by a stone balcony and crowned by a tiara of balustrades.  The fully arched windows of the third floor sat within square-headed architraves, and the piers that flanked the fourth floor openings were intricately carved with Renaissance inspired decorations.

James Carlew sold the house to Henry Schwarzwalder and his wife, the former Louisa Finck.  Louisa was Henry's second wife.  He married Alice Finck (Louisa's sister) in 1877.  She died shortly after the birth of their daughter, Amelia, and Henry then married Louisa.  They had a daughter, also named Louisa.

Born on May 26, 1853, Henry took over the operation of J. Schwarzwalder & Sons following his father's death.  (His business partner, August Finck, was the brother of his wives.)  By the time he purchased 24 West 76th Street, the firm was the largest maker of beer kegs in the United States.  It operated two factories--in Hoboken, New Jersey and Louisville, Kentucky.  Schwarzwalder personally held several patents for improved kegs and heavily invested in Manhattan real estate, much of it on the Upper West Side.

Louisa died at the age of 48 on October 18, 1909.  Oddly enough, neither daughter was mentioned in her obituary.  Louisa's funeral was held in the drawing room on the 20th.

In January 1914, Henry Schwarzwalder began construction of a country home at Shippan Point near Stamford, Connecticut.  The two-story mansion cost the equivalent of $1.6 million today to construct.  It is possible that Schwarzwalder never enjoyed his new summer home.  He died in the West 76th Street mansion on May 10, 1915 at the age of 62.

Henry's eldest daughter, Alice, who was married to Conrad Stein by then, inherited the townhouse and the Connecticut property.  The couple occupied 24 West 76th Street for two years.  Then, on December 15, 1917, The New York Sun reported that Conrad purchased "the tall apartment house at 311 to 317 West Eighty-ninth street."  As part payment, said the article, he gave the George Backer Construction Company the Shippan Point estate and "his dwelling at 24 West Seventy-sixth street...one of the fine dwellings remaining on the West Side."

In marketing 24 West 76th Street, the new owners described the former Schwarzwalder house as "a residence superb."  The George Backer Construction Company initially used it as an investment property.  In March 1918, for instance, Paul Schwartz leased the house.

Then, in April 1919, the firm sold it "to a buyer for occupancy," according to The Record & Guide.  The purchasers were Reid Langdon Carr and his wife, the former Eleonora Fredericksen.  The couple had been married three years earlier.

Born on October 20, 1880 in Cornwall, Vermont, Carr graduated from Middlebury College in 1901 and earned his law degree from New York Law School in 1903.  He taught law in his alma mater until 1916 before entering the firm of Morgan & Seabury.  Apparently indefatigable, he was president and a director of the Columbian Carbon Company, and a director of the Irving Trust Company, the Frederick H. Levey Company, the Appleton Century Company, the Interstate Natural Gas Company and the Mississippi River Fuel Company.  

The Carrs' country estate was at Huntington, Long Island.  They owned 24 West 76th Street until 1926 when they purchased 925 Fifth Avenue.  Reid Langdon Carr would die in that mansion on October 7, 1948.

The new owners were Alexander Hayes Kridel and his wife, the former Irma L. Hernsheim.  The couple were married on January 11, 1906 and had two children, Elinor and James Alexander. 

Kridel was born in 1877 and studied at the College of the City of New York and abroad.  He was a partner in J. Kridel, Sons & Co., commission merchants, founded by his father in the 1870s.  The Kridels maintained two country homes, one in Scarsdale, New York and another in Deal, New Jersey.

Elinor Kridel graduated from Vassar College in 1928.  Shortly afterward, her parents announced her engagement to Leonard Henry Bernheim.  

By the mid-1930s, the Isaac H. Levy family occupied 24 West 76th Street.  But the end of the line for the mansion as a private home was near.

via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The early World War II years saw 24 West 76th Street operated as rented rooms.  Evelyn Clayton Lewis rather scandalously shared a room here with Frederick "Fritz" Joubert Duquesne in 1941.  (Frederick was known to other residents by the surname Dunn.)  Evelyn, who was 24 years old, was an "artist, sculptress and playwright," according to The New York Sun.  

Frederick, who was 64, listed his occupation as "writer and lecturer."  Born in Cape Colony, South Africa, Duquesne was a naturalized citizen.  But, according to J. Edgar Hoover, he had "served as a spy in the Boer War and in addition was active in behalf of the German interests" in World War I.  During the latter conflict, Duquesne was arrested for insurance fraud and murder in the connection of the sinking of the British ship Tennyson.  While confined in a cell at Bellevue Hospital in 1918, he escaped.  Several years later, the charges were dropped.

As it turned out, Evelyn and Frederick's living arrangements had nothing to do with romance.  On June 28, 1941, FBI agents stormed into their rooms here and arrested the pair for espionage.  Two days later, The New York Times reported that their arrest--along with 25 other men and two women--had broken a German spy ring.  The article said, "The most important of the prisoners was described by Mr. Hoover as Frederick Joubert Duquesne."  

Frederick Joubert Duquesne's FBI mug shot.  

Frederick Duquesne would serve 12 years in prison and Evelyn was sentenced to 18 months in Atlanta "for acting as a foreign agent."

Other residents of 24 West 76th Street were, expectedly, less notorious.  Living here as early as 1947 was Chester Phillips, a World War II veteran and former Boy Scout.  On February 3, 1948, The New York Times reported that he and six other veterans and former Boy Scouts had established a 13-1/2 acre Boy Scout camp upstate and provided a fund "to send needy youths" to the camp.

Retired customs attorney Hartford Beaumont and his wife, Alice, lived here by the late 1950s.  Around 1911, he began working on The American Tariff System, a compilation and index of legal cases.  After working on the manuscript for half a century, on Beaumont's 90th birthday, August 18, 1961, he and his wife presented his 2,000-page volume to the United States Custom Service.  Five months later, on January 23, 1962, The New York Times reported on Beaumont's death here.

British-born writer Nik Cohn lived here in the early 1980s.  A magazine article he wrote in 1976 inspired the movie Saturday Night Fever.  He earned less positive press on May 19, 1983 when a raid on his apartment resulted in his arrest along with 18 others for operating a "drug ring that operated out of Mr. Cohn's Manhattan town house," according to The New York Times.

Although never officially converted to apartments, there are ten rental units in the building today.  From the sidewalk, the former mansion looks much as it did in 1899 when the Schwarzwalder family moved in.

photographs by the author

The Lost Public School 177 - Market and Monroe Streets

 

photo by Jacob A. Riis from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

On November 22, 1898, the Board of Education's Minutes of the Committee on Buildings reported on tbe 15 school buildings currently being designed by in-house architect Charles B. J. Snyder.  On the list was Public School 177.  To be built on the southeast corner of Market and Monroe Street, it would include "36 classrooms, including two kindergarten rooms, physical and manual training rooms and roof playground."  Construction of the $241,000 building (about $9.6 million today) began in the spring of 1899 and was completed the following year.

Snyder blended Norman Revival and Tudor Revival styles in creating a striking brick-faced structure.  The main entrance within the chamfered corner sat above a flight of steps.  It was flanked by octagonal towers capped with Norman-style onion domes similar to those on the Tower of London.  Above the entrance was a triple-sided, three-story oriel capped with intricately carved cresting.  It included colorful stained glass at the second level.  Grouped openings flooded the classrooms with natural light, while the fifth floor erupted into a mountainscape of various sized gables.

The teachers and the principal of Public School 177, Mary J. Brady, creatively addressed the difficulties of instructing the diverse student body, most of whom came from other countries.  On January 26, 1907, for instance, the New-York Tribune reported on a game devised by the sixth grade girl's gym class: the Balloon Goal.  Two teams of 20 girls, one with a blue balloon and the other with a red one, tried to bat their balloon over the other team's goal.  The girls' physical culture teacher, Jessie H. Bancroft, explained to the journalist that the game was not only interesting, but called "for a large amount of physical activity."

The class's new game won a $50 prize offered by Mrs. Henry Siegel.  At the award ceremony, guests were entertained by the students.  "The glee club sang, the salute to the flag was given, and a class of little girls in red and orange aprons, orange kerchiefs and white peasant caps danced a Swedish dance that made a big hit," said the New-York Tribune.

Sixth grade girls play Balloon Goal (top) and perform a Swedish dance.  New-York Tribune, January 26, 1907 (copyright expired)

In addition to their regular studies, students participated in civic activities.  In 1905, for instance, The New York Times reported that the girls of P. S. 177 held "one of the biggest Arbor Day celebrations in the city."  They emulated "the tradition of the famous Hamilton trees [by planting] thirteen trees in commemoration of the thirteen original Colonies."  Three years later, on May 3, 1908, the newspaper reported that the girls had planted a "McKinley tree presented by Maude Adams" in front of the school building.

Principal Mary J. Brady took 130 female students to a session of the city aldermen on December 21, 1909.  Sitting in the gallery, they "were there to see the city fathers transact business.  Of the girls, 97 per cent were foreign born," said the New-York Tribune.

The following spring, the urban students were exposed to a very non-urban experience--the growing of vegetables.  Mrs. Russell Sage and six other socialites contributed $100 each to establish a "farm garden."  On May 29, 1910, The Sun reported that "earth was bought and spread over a part of the school yard to the depth of a foot and a half."  The area was divided into 55 plots, each one assigned to a class.  The article said, "This school has an enrollment of 2,400 children, the majority of whom have never seen the green country."

A girls' "physical culture" class exercises in the tenement-surrounded playground in 1901.  photograph by Jacob A. Riis from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Two months earlier, on March 3, Mayor William Jay Gaynor visited the school "to say 'good morning," according to him.  The "good morning" turned into "a speech in which he condemned certain east side philanthropies and magazine writers," reported The New York Times.  Aside from the photo op, the mayor was impressed with the students.

The article said that Mary J. Brady and "nine little girls" formed a guard of honor, "each bearing an American flag."  One girl stepped forward and said, "In the name of the teachers and scholars of our school we greet you, Mayor."

In the assembly room, 1,500 girls "rose and gave him the Chautauqua salute with their handkerchiefs."  The mayor witnessed the older girls in a debate "on whether South Carolina had a right to nullify an act of Congress."  The article said that Gaynor was especially interested in the "foreign class," composed of children who had been in the country less than six months.  A little boy stepped away from the others and said:

Mr. Mayor, we've only been in this country a short time, none more than six months, and some of us only one week.  But we have lost no time since landing in coming to this great school.  Some of us come from Russia, some from Italy, some from other countries, but in a short time we have learned how the City of New York is governed.

After curtsying, a girl stepped forward and said, "Mr. Mayor, we have learned to love you, and we love the policemen who protect us and are our friends."

Five months later, a discharged city employee shot Mayor Gaynor as he boarded the SS Wilhelm der Grosse in Hoboken.  The bullet lodged in the mayor's throat.  On October 4, 1910, the New-York Tribune reported on Gaynor's return to City Hall.  The article said:

Many flowers were received by the Mayor, but those he enjoyed most were brought in person by three little girls representing Public School 177...The committee was headed by Mollie Prate, six years old, who carried a bouquet of old-fashioned flowers, almost as large as herself.  She made a nice little speech to the Mayor, to which he replied kindly. 

The children had written a message that read, "It is our hope that every day will show how glad the people of our city are that you have been spared to them."

The playground, surrounded by the school and tenement buildings, was used by the Professional League in October 1912.  They staged "entertainments" and the admission fees went to "sending the children of the school to the country," explained The New York Times on June 28.

The terrorist group The Black Hand terrorized New York City in the first half of the 20th century.  On June 17, 1926, unfounded rumors of threats to the students spread.  The New York Times reported, "mothers of some of the 2,000 children in Public School 177...having heard of the excitement, came to demand their children.  Forty of them went to the principal, Miss May Gray, and said they had learned of Black Hand threats."  Gray persuaded them that there would be no trouble and, with police guarding the building, operations went as normal until dismissal at 3:00.

With the scare fresh in the minds of the students and faculty, a day or two later, Benjamin Portaro and Tony Marsicano, both 14 years old, cried "Black Hand!" in the corridor.  Janitor Joseph Borkowski was nearer than they realized and he chased them through the hallways and captured the boys.  On June 23 they faced Justice Samuel D. Levy in Children's Court.  Levy discharged them after Borkowski could not testify that he actually saw the teens yell the cries.  Nevertheless, Levy warned Portaro and Marsicano "to keep away from others."

In April 1932, the Board of Education converted Public School 177 to kindergarten-through-sixth grade.  The upper grades were transferred to the nearby Public School 1.

The influx of German immigrants that the Lower East Side had seen in the 19th century was echoed in the 1930s as refugees fled the Nazi regime.  On April 3, 1938, The New York Times reported that the flood of refugees from Germany and Austria had caused "many new problems" for the city's schools.  The article said the newcomers were "clamoring...to absorb in the quickest possible time the language, culture and customs of their newly adopted land."  Public School 177 was designated as one of two "set aside for refugees."  Here "special classes are conducted for the foreigners who are finding an asylum here," said The New York Times.

The Lower East Side's widely divergent ethnic make-up continued to be reflected in the student body after midcentury.  On November 29, 1965, The New York Times reported, "Down on the Lower East Side in the crumbling castle-like structure that is Public School 177, Miss Sheila Shankman's fifth grade class has published a book."  The Melting Pot Cook Book included students' handwritten recipes.  They were mimeographed and stapled together.  The article said:

Darlene Lamont's recipe for creeping crust cobbler ("because it tastes good and was an easy recipe to copy") vies for space with Vicky Del Rio's ship's noodles ("A German dish my mother learned from her mother and makes once in a while") and Charles Giambrone's avgolemono soup ("My mother is Greek").

The collection reflected the changing demographics of the neighborhood.  The article said, "The proximity of Chinatown to P.S. 177 explains the predominance of oriental recipes in the cookbook."

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

Within a few years of that article, Charles B. J. Snyder's romantic school building, suffering from old age, was demolished.  On June 10, 1973, The New York Times reported that the Coleman Square Playground would be expanded "onto an adjacent lot, the site of the old Public School 177."