The 1837 Jonas Wood House - 285 East Third Street

photograph by Carole Teller

 

In 1837, just 26 years after the Commissioners' Plan laid out on paper the streets that would dissect lands owned by Nicholas and Elizabeth Fish, ship carver Charles Dodge erected a row of six brick-faced homes on the north side of the newly opened Third Street between Avenues C and D.  Three stories tall and 22-feet-wide above English basements, the houses reflected the emerging Greek Revival style.  The builder arranged them as three mirror-image pairs that shared a stoop divided by a wing wall and iron railing.  The side-by-side doorways were framed by brownstone pilasters that upheld a single-layered entablature and molded cornice.

Attorney Jonas Wood first occupied 285 Third Street (the "East" in the address would be added in the early 1860s).  Highly involved in local politics, he had run for assemblyman in 1833.   He was, as well, a "trustee of the funds" of the Eight Ward Mutual Assurance Association.

The house saw a succession of residents through the 1840s and 1850s.  Charles H. Hillard was listed here in 1845; Robert I. Furney, a teacher in Public School No. 13 on Madison Street in 1847; and engineer Charles Garrison in 1850 and '51.

In 1852 Frances M. Murray and her daughters moved in, almost assuredly leasing the house.  Born in 1797, she was the widow of Thomas Murray.  

The two eldest daughters, Frances J. and Anna Murray, worked in Public School No. 22 on the corner of Stanton and Sheriff Streets in 1852.  Francis was the principal of the Girls' Department and Anna was a teacher.  Their positions were reflected in the women's salaries.  Francis earned $600 a year, and Anna $200.  (The figures would translate to $23,000 and $7,680 in 2026.)  Their younger sister, Louisa, would also become a teacher and in 1858 she worked at P. S. No. 15 on Fifth Street. 

Like many middle-class widows, Frances M. Murray took in boarders.  Living here that first year were Frederick Bevin, a real estate agent, and seaman David Hall.

Frances M. Murray moved to 817 East 4th Street in 1864.  She died there on March 8, 1869.

No. 285 East 3rd Street continued to house boarders.  Living here in 1864 were William Raise; Jacob Basch, a turner (the operator of a lathe to make items like spindles); and cigarmaker Samuel Goldberg.  Nicholas Baum, a smith, occupied the smaller house in the rear yard.

Although William Raise still listed his address at 285 Third Street that year, he was off fighting with the Union Army.  On July 15, 1864, he and 127 other Union guards were transporting 833 Confederate prisoners of war from Point Lookout, Maryland to Elmira, New New York on a 17-car train pulled by a wood-burning steam locomotive.

At around 2:45 p.m. the train collided head-on with a coal train at Shohola Township, Pennsylvania, about 19 miles from Port Jervis, New York.  At least 51 Confederal soldiers and 17 Union guards were killed instantly or within a day after.  The next day, the Troy, New York Daily Whig reported that among those who were injured, but not killed, at "Shin Hollow," was William Raise.

The Levy Hirsch family first occupied 285 East 3rd Street around 1867.  A cigarmaker, his family also took in boarders.  In 1868 tailor Michael Durmann occupied the rear house; and Simon Falk and Andrew Lynch lived with the Hirsches.  Simon Falk listed his profession as "segars," suggesting that he worked for Hirsch; and Lynch was a carpenter.

Jacob Kettner, who purchased 285 East 3rd Street around 1872, most likely knew Levy Hirsch.  He, too, operated a cigarmaking business.  Joseph R. Kettner worked for his father.  Boarding with the family in 1873 were fruit dealer Daniel M. Vineberg, and Maximilian Kutz, a real estate agent.

In 1876 George Davis, a police officer, boarded here and he would remain through 1879.  It was possibly his influence that prompted Joseph Kettner to leave his father's cigar business and apply to the Police Department.  In 1879, he was accepted as a patrolman earning $1,000 a year (about $33,000 today).

In March 1900, the Kettner family leased 285 East 3rd Street to Jacob and Rosa Lewis.  Jacob, who was in the clothing business, dabbled in real estate.  On May 19, 1905, for instance, The New York Times reported that he was making $5,000 in alterations to a "five-story brick tenement" at 218 East 7th Street; and in September 1909 he updated two "four-story brick tenements" on Avenue A.

The Kettner family sold the house to Abraham Heiler around 1909.  He continued to lease it to the Lewis family.  In June 1910, Heiler modernized the house by adding indoor plumbing and, importantly, "toilets."  The renovations cost him the equivalent of $52,400 today.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

After Morris Beck purchased 285 East 3rd Street in October 1921, it became a rooming house.  The Depression years saw mostly German families living here.  Among the residents in 1932, for instance, were the Waldstreichers, who operated a grocery store at 256 East 3rd Street, and Dr. Leo Rosenberg.

The third quarter of the 20th century started badly for 285 East Third Street.  When a two-alarm fire broke out in June 1972, The New York Times described it as being vacant.

But then, as early as 1984, I. Reed Books operated from the house.  And by the mid-1990s, Steven Cannon's "Gathering of the Tribes" was here.  It included the Tribes Gallery and space for emerging artists to network, trade ideas, and expose their works.

On January 5, 2001, in reporting on its latest exhibition, The New York Times journalist Holland Cotter described the Tribes Gallery, saying in part:

Tribe's latest offering has ambitions as big as the venue is small.  Organized by Christine Wang, it squeezes inself into three rooms, climbing up walls and spilling from shelves.  Three dozen or so international artists, several well known, jostle for attention.

On May 23, 2012, Stephen Rex Brown, writing in The New York Times, began an article saying, "Yesterday the founder of the art space at 285 East Third Street, Steve Cannon, was served with a formal '10-day notice of termination' for 'continued use of the premises as an office and art gallery, which is contracted to the lawful usage permitted by the certificate of occupancy for the building."

A year earlier, the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation had begun a push to have 285 and 287 East 3rd Street designated individual landmarks.  It cited the importance of No. 285 in Black History (because of its connection with Steve Cannon and the Gathering of the Tribes), and the significance of both buildings as being "highly intact Greek Revival" examples.

photograph by Carole Teller

The last two survivors of Charles Dodge's 1837 row, the pair has managed to escape the brutalization or demolition of similar relics in the East Village.  Neither has landmark protection at this writing.

many thanks to artist Carole Teller for suggesting this post

The 1916 Remsen Building - 148 Madison Avenue

 

photograph by acronson

Born on February 7, 1856, Dr. Charles Remsen was the grandson of Benjamin Remsen, who served as secretary to Thomas Jefferson.  In 1915, he commissioned Wallis & Goodwillie to design a 16-story commercial building at the southwest corner of Madison Avenue and 32nd Street.  The firm's plans projected the cost at $200,000--about $6.6 million in 2026 terms.

The Remsen Building's tripartite design included a four-story, terra cotta-clad base.  Above each entrance (and enlivening what would otherwise be a monotonous quilt of plain and foliate tiles) were complex triptych Gothic arches in front of leaded glass.  Crowning the center of each was a commanding Gothic hood.

photograph by acronson

The upper building was faced in gray brick, its spartan nine-story midsection nearly unadorned.  The 13th floor anticipated the much more decorated top section.  A terra cotta cornice below the center windows--three bays wide on Madison Avenue and six bays wide on the side elevation--and a Gothic curtain of trefoil rondels ran above them.  Triple height terra cotta pilasters supported a projecting band course below the cornice, decorated with Gothic quatrefoils.

photograph by frog17

As construction neared completion, on December 31, 1916 The New York Times mentioned "the Remsen Building has ten of its sixteen floors leased."  Saying that its "Gothic treatment arrests attention in this mercantile centre," the article added, "No manufacturing is allowed."  Charles Remsen intended that the new building would house only "showrooms."  

The Evening Post, November 11, 1916 (copyright expired)

Among the to first to move in was I. A. Harris & Brother.  On December 10, 1916, the New-York Tribune reported that the firm "are to be the tenants of Dr. Charles Remsen's building."  The firm manufactured dresses.  The ground floor store was leased to the Egypt Silk Mills Corporation.  Other initial tenants were Perling & Maer, makers of coats and suits, which occupied the seventh floor; Isidore Levy & Co., "sport suit" manufacturers; and Halprin-Silverman Co., makers of dresses.

The New York Times, April 1, 1919 (copyright expired)

One tenant that was decidedly not in the apparel field was James C. Crane, distributor and representative of cosmetics.  It was, for instance, the sole agent of Creme Elcaya, which it advertised as "a non-greasy disappearing toilet cream that would protect and beautify the skin under face powder."  When American joined World War I, James C. Crane's personal office did double-duty as the headquarters of the Liberty Loan Committee.

Wholesale dry goods and apparel firms continued to lease space in the post-World War I years.  C. H. D. Robbins Company, makers of women's "high class dresses," was here in 1920; Floerscheimer Company occupied space by February 1921 when a city-wide strike by the Dress and Waist Manufacturers' Association resulted in loud picketers along the Madison Avenue sidewalk.  The Morgan Knitting Mills, Inc. signed a lease early in 1923; the following year the newly formed Leibler-Goldsmith Company moved in (The New York Times said it "will make tailored dresses for misses and young women and also more mature garments); and by 1926 the Mohawk Knitting Mills, Inc. occupied space here.

Hubert, Moulton & Company, Inc. had its showroom here as early as 1929.  The firm produced fabrics for drapery manufacturers.  It advertised its new offerings in the January 1930 of The Upholsterer and Interior Decorator using terms only its customers could decipher.  It boasted its new "echatones," for instance.  "A superb line of 36 inch Cretonne, processed by etching, entirely different from ordinary printing.  In the newest colors."

The New York offices and showrooms of the Susquehanna Silk Mills, Inc. were here by 1924.  Like a scene plucked from a Western movie, on the morning of May 1 that year, armed robbers held up the firm's truck and got away with $35,000 of silk goods.  (The heist would translate to about $659,000 today.)  

Two New York City Police detectives went undercover, posing as silk salesmen.  They successfully caught the three men--all respected businessmen--who were behind the holdup.  Two were silk merchants and the other an attorney.

A different type of tenant took over the entire ground floor in 1933 when A. Beshar & C0., Inc. moved in.  Formed in 1898, the firm imported Oriental rug and carpets.  Other major lessees in the building in the 1930s were J. H. Erstein & Brother, "ribbons and general merchandise," which occupied the third and fourth floors; upholstery fabrics dealers Rousmaniere Williams Corporation; and Barbizon Corporation, makers of the Barbizon brand of women's undergarments.

Nearly all the tenants of the Remsen Building continued to  be textile and fashion firms.  In the 1960s, for instance, Vogue Lingerie operated here.

image via loopnet.com

The entrance doors and ground floor windows have been changed.  Happily, despite not having landmark protection, none of the terra cotta details have been vandalized by modernization.  Their intricate designs create a striking presence on the Madison Avenue corner.

The James and Euphemia Russell House - 44 West 87th Street

 

Having trained in the architectural firm of Duggin & Crossman, Charles Buek established Charles Buek & Co. in 1880.  The development-construction firm doubled as its own architect.  Within a decade, Charles Buek & Co. was one of the most well-known firms in the industry.  On February 21, 1891, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that the firm "will shortly commence the erection of six four-story brick and limestone front dwellings on the south side of 87th street, 100 feet east of Columbus Avenue."

Completed in 1892, Nos. 40 through 50 West 87th Street were designed in a refined version of Romanesque Revival.  No. 44 West 87th Street was twenty-three-feet wide, and its basement and parlor levels were clad in rough cut limestone.  A dog-legged box stoop mirrored that of its next door at No. 46.  The two-story midsection was faced in brick.  Grouped windows at the second floor were framed in limestone, distinguished by pilasters with ornate Corinthian capitals.  The fourth floor sat atop an intricately carved cornice.  Its slightly projecting center section held paired openings.  Their limestone frame was anchored by large, swirling volutes.  Directly above was a triangular pediment with a charming daisy rondel.

James and Euphemia Russell purchased the mansion from Charles Buek in February 1893 for $44,500, or about $1.4 million in 2026 terms.  Born in 1827 and 1841 respectively, the couple had four children, Marguerite, George Dunlap, May Isabelle, and Rachel (known as Ray) MacMaster.  The family's country home, Sunny Side, was near Mount Vernon, New York.

George, who had married the previous year, was the only sibling who did not move into the West 87th Street house.  May and Ray were single, and Margaruerite was married to her father's business partner, Charles S. Rees.  The men composed James Rees & Sons, Co., "boiler, engine and steamboat builders," and Russell & Rees, which operated the Continental Brewery.  

Charles S. Rees was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania on December 5, 1860.  He graduated from Western University of Pennsylvania. 

Described by The New York Times later as the Russells' "palatial residence," 44 West 87th Street was filled with valuable artwork and antiques.  An inventory held in 1906 described "a valuable collection of Oil Paintings, comprising about one hundred canvases, many by prominent American and Foreign artists."  The parlor, or "salon," was furnished in "Marie Antoinette and Louis Seize," and the music room in Louis XVI.

The Russell women were highly involved in the Woman's Wards of the New York Post-Graduate Hospital.  Margaruerite Rees was president, Ray MacMaster Russell was secretary and treasurer, and Euphemia was an associate member.

Just two years after purchasing 44 West 87th Street, James Russell died.  

Isabelle married Isaac Hallam Jenney in 1898.  (The bride was 17 and the groom 26.)  The couple moved into the West 87th Street mansion.  Isaac Jenney was born in 1871 "in the American consular residence at Bogata, Columbia," as explained by the New York Herald, and graduated from Yale in 1892.  When he married May, he was working as an importer.  Two years later, on February 24, 1900, Marie Jenney was born.  

Society was abuzz in the spring of 1902 when Ray MacMaster Russell's engagement to millionaire Hector H. Havemeyer was announced.  The ceremony was to be held in the Madison Avenue Reformed Church and The New York Times said it "will be a large wedding."  And, indeed, on April 17 the New York Herald headlined an article, "Miss Ray Russell Becomes A Bride / Throng at Church to See Ceremony Which Made her Mrs. Havemeyer."  A who's-who of high society attended the ceremony, including Goulds, Gilseys, Ballards and Mackays.

Before long, Havemeyer, his friend, Peter Gilsey, and Isaac Hallam Jenney formed the real estate company, Gilsey, Havemeyer & Jenney.  

The extended family left 44 West 87th Street in 1902, although Euphemia retained possession.  She leased the house for the winter social season of 1902 to author and playwright Frances Hodgson Burnett.  In her 1927 biography, The Romantick Lady (Frances Hodgson Burnett), Vivian Burnett writes, "Situated in the middle of the block, it was far enough from heavy traffic to give Mrs. Burnett something of the quiet she needed."

Frances Burnett posed for photographer Herbert Rose Barraud in 1886 (copyright expired)

Born in 1848, Burnett had written the children's novel Little Lord Fauntleroy in 1886.  She would later produce two other popular children's works, the 1905 A Little Princess and The Secret Garden, released in 1911.  

The following year, Euphemia leased 44 West 87th Street to Ernest Benjamin Fahnestock and his wife, the former Abby Caroline Rhodes.  Fahnestock was the vice-president and general manager of the Fahnestock Transmitter Co.

Not surprisingly, when Euphemia Russell placed the house for sale in 1906, it was handled by Gilsey, Havemeyer & Jenney.  The property was sold to Dr. Abram Richard Stern and his wife, the former Stella Lichtenstein, in May.

Born on July 21, 1874, Stern was a graduate of Columbia University's College of Physicians and Surgeons.  He additionally studied in Berlin and Vienna.  At the time of the purchase, he was Adjunct Assistant Attending Physician at Mt. Sinai Hospital.  He and Stella had two children, Richard and Stella Benita. 

Stern's patients ranged from theatrical to society figures.  In December 1907, for instance, he was called to the home of actress Julia Sanderson (who was in private life Mrs. Tod Sloan).  Sanderson had been appearing in The Dairy Maids even though she was feeling unwell.  Finally, she could not continue.  On December 3, The New York Times reported that Stern "diagnosed the case as typhoid."  And when the young and wealthy socialite Mrs. George A. Oppenheimer committed suicide on October 19, 1913, it was Dr. Stern who was call to the scene.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Among the Sterns' domestic staff in 1919 was their governess, 60-year-old Clarice Deckwis.  She left the house on the evening of October 7 and did not return.  At the corner of 106th Street and Fifth Avenue, Clarice had been hit by an automobile and seriously injured.  She was still unconscious in Mt. Sinai Hospital the following night when Dr. Stern identified her.  She had suffered a fractured skull and three broken ribs.

The Sterns remained at 44 West 87th Street until September 1940, when they sold the house to Joseph Kamert for $40,000 (about $894,000 today).  

It appears that Kamert rented rooms in the former mansion, and among his first tenant was Paul Bante.  The 44-year-old iron worker was born in Germany, but was a naturalized American citizen.  Bante brought nationwide attention to 44 West 87th Street when The New York Times reported on July 1, 1941 that he had been arrested as a member of a German spy ring.  He and 32 others were indicted 15 days later, accused "of having acted as agents" for the Nazi Government.   The New York Sun reported on January 2, 1942, that he had been sentenced to 18 months in a Federal penitentiary and a fine of $1,000.

A renovation completed in 2011 resulted in an office in the basement level and eight apartments in the upper floors.

photographs by the author

The Lost 7th Precinct Station House - 247 Madison Street

from the collection of the New York Public Library

On August 2, 1860, the New-York Daily Tribune reported, "A protest was received from various citizens in the Seventh Ward against the purchase by the city of the lots at Nos. 245 and 247 Madison street, for a new Station House in that Ward."  The citizens were not opposed to a new police station in their neighborhood, they were outraged by the cost.  The article said, "the original owner of the property was willing to take $9,000 for the property, but the [city offered] $15,000 for it."  Despite the grievances, the following day the Board of Alderman passed a resolution "to secure the premises Nos. 245 and 247 Madison street...at a price not exceeding $15,000."

The police department's architect produced a stylish Italianate-style station house.  The fully arched openings were, most likely, ornamented with molded lintels or architraves.  Dimension was achieved by slightly projecting the central three-bay wide section.  A corbelled cast metal cornice with a triangular pediment completed the design.  (A separate building in the rear yard housed the holding cells for prisoners.)

from the collection of the New York Public Library

Shortly after ground was broken for the 7th Precinct Station house, the first shot of the Civil War was fired.  The building was completed and fully staffed when one of the darkest periods in New York City history took place--the Draft Riots.  A revolt over the nation's first attempt at a military draft began with a lottery on July 11, 1863.  The first 1,200 names drawn came overwhelmingly from the city's poor and immigrant population.  Wealthy families had bought exemptions to exclude their sons.

At around 6:30 on the morning of July 13, 1863, riots erupted.  The resulting three-day reign of terror and carnage was unlike anything seen in the country before.  Innocent people were murdered, and draft offices, newspaper buildings, and the homes and neighborhoods of the city’s black population were burned.  The 7th Precinct officers were deployed to "sharp fighting," as described by The New York Times, throughout the district.  The newspaper said that on that first day, the officers staged an "attack upon and severe usage of the rioters at Broadway and Amity-street [later Third Street]."  

On the second day, Henry F. O'Brien, the black colonel of the 11th New York Volunteer Infantry Regiment, was spotted on Second Avenue.  He was surrounded by a vicious gang and for more than an hour he was pummeled with rocks and kicked.  He was then carried to a house where he was tortured to death and his body butchered beyond recognition.  Civilians who attempted to intervene were attacked by the mob.

The New York Times reported that Captain Bennett and men of the 7th Precinct were "detailed, with a company of military, to visit Thirty-fourth-street, where Col. O'Brien was so horribly murdered, to recover the body."  

In recapping the mayhem, on August 9, 1863 The New York Times remarked, "The officers and men of this Precinct saw considerable service during the week, and sustained the good repute hitherto attached to them."

In the summer of 1870, three 7th Precinct beat officers--Wild, Shalvey and Jarboe--revealed their sharp focus and concentration.  A year earlier, in April 1869, John Kelly, "alias John Wilson, alias 'Paddy Barry,'" according to The Evening Post, was sentenced to two-and-a-half years in Sing Sing prison.  He escaped six months later.  Kelly managed to blend into the Bowery surroundings for nearly a year.  Then, at around 3:00 on the morning of August 24, 1870, the three officers nabbed him.  The Evening Post reported, "He will be returned to his old quarters to-day."

In 1872, according to the Sunday Mercury, the staff of the 7th Precinct consisted of one captain, four sergeants, 60 patrolmen, and two doormen.  (A "doorman" was the officer who manned the desk just within the front door to address questions and complaints of civilians who walked in.)  

The following year, the country was plunged into a debilitating financial depression--the Panic of 1873.  It would bring dire consequences to the already impoverished residents of the 7th Precinct.  In reporting on the "destitution" that was spreading across the city, on February 9, 1874, the New York Herald quoted Sergeant Oates.  "He thought there ought to be provision made for the wretched poor, fallen from higher estates."  

While the reporter was there, he looked around.  "Their quarters seemed well ventilated, and, not to be too complimentary, considerably the least disgusting of any of those visited."

Members of the 7th Precinct dealt with gangs and "rowdies."  On July 27, 1875, Officer Thomas F. Regan came upon a group of 15 men fighting at the corner of Madison and Scammell Streets.  Rather than call for assistance, he attempted to break up the melee single-handedly.  The mob immediately turned their focus onto the policeman.  The New-York Tribune reported, "he was knocked down, kicked, and left lying insensible on the sidewalk."  He was discovered and taken to the police station.  Regan's injuries were significant and the newspaper said "he was found to be unfit for police duty for some time."

A heart-warming incident took place here in the fall of 1896.  On October 10, a "shabbily dressed man about thirty years old," as described by The New York Times, was found prostrated in the station house doorway.  The man, Andrew Wyzandt, was deemed to be intoxicated and was locked up.

The next morning Detective Mooney escorted him to the Essex Market Police Court.  Wyzandt walked "feebly" and "stopped at garbage barrels along the walk and searched for crusts and apple cores.  When he found any he put them furtively in his pockets," reported The New York Times.

"Look here," Mooney asked, "are you really hungry?"

"I am starved."

Mooney made a detour in their route to the courthouse.  The article said that he "took him into a coffee saloon and ordered for him some chops, potatoes, rolls, and coffee."  Wyzandt merely stared at the plates when they were brought.  The New York Times said, "Losing patience, the detective held a roll under his guest's nose.  The result was magical.  Wyzandt ate the meal furiously."

Less charitably treated by a different precinct was Samuel Levi, who lived at 145 East Broadway.  On June 13, 1897, he rode his bicycle to the Queens County Park, where he fell and broke his leg.  He was taken to the nearest police station but, as reported by The Sun, "they didn't want him, nor did the hospital near by."  Finally, he was transported to the 7th Precinct Station House, arriving at about 7:30 that evening.  The article said that Sergeant MacSweeny sent for an ambulance and Levi was taken to Gouveneur Hospital "several hours after his accident."

An inspection of the brick cell building on December 13, 1911 discovered disturbing conditions.  Saying there were "two rows of cells back to back, eight on one side and seven on the other, with a passageway all around," it noted, "There are no wash-bowls and no shower baths."  The "toilets" used by prisoners were makeshift privies, "in appearance like a megaphone set into a sewer pipe."  The inspectors concluded, "The whole place is inexpressively bad and a disgrace to the city.  It should be abandoned with as little delay as possible and a modern prison built."

That did not happen and following an inspection two years later, State Prisoner Henry Solomon wrote, "This has long been known as the worst police station in the city."  Once again, he stressed that "modern sanitary" water closets should be installed, adding, "wash basins are also needed."  Instead, the rear jail building was simply shut down in 1916 and prisoners were taken to the 13th Precinct on Clinton Street.

On May 20, 1921, the New York Herald reported, "The old Seventh Precinct police station in 247 Madison street, one of the police landmarks of the city, ceased to exist at midnight last night."  The precinct was absorbed into the Oak Street and Clinton Street stations.

Two weeks later, on June 3, John Finck purchased the property "on behalf of a client," as reported by the Proceedings of the Commissioners of the Sinking Fund.  It was acquired "for the purpose of turning it into a public shower bath."  

The extensive renovations (that cost $53,000, or about $975,000 in 2026) took four years to complete.  On April 30, 1925, The New York Times reported that Borough President Julius Miller would officially open the baths the next day.  

It was probably during the bath conversion that the Victorian details were removed from the openings. via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Saying that the bath was "something very much needed in this densely populated neighborhood, Miller described:

This old police station has been entirely transformed.  The cells in the yard have been torn down, the yard cleared, a pavement laid and it is now a community playground.  There is a waiting room on the first floor, also women's shower room; on the second floor, men's shower room; and on the third floor, men's and women's shower rooms.

The Madison Street Free Baths operated until 1970.  It was demolished for the first section of the Gouverneur Healthcare Services Building.

photographer by Halil Serkan Kutun

The 1950 Rockefeller Guest House - 242 East 52nd Street

photograph by Epicgenius

An advertisement in the New York Herald on February 18, 1866 offered the "modern high stoop house" at 242 East 52nd Street for sale.  A mirror-image, two-bay wide Italianate dwelling sat next door.  At the time, the once-rural Turtle Bay district was quickly being industrialized as factories, breweries and the like cropped up along the riverfront.  By the Depression years, 242 East 52nd Street had lost its stoop and converted to furnished rooms.  As early as 1940, it was abandoned.

242 and 244 East 52nd Street were an eyesore in 1940.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

John D. Rockefeller III married Blanchette Ferry Hooker in 1932.  They moved into 1 Beekman Place, part of a much-changed area of Turtle Bay, in the 1940s.  The couple were avid art collectors, but "modernist" art, according to Rockefeller, was his "wife's department."

In 1948, Blanchette proposed they erect "a town house designed largely to accommodate visiting members of the family," according to The New York Times.  More importantly, she wanted a venue to display her avant-garde artworks and to entertain.  The couple were well acquainted with Philip C. Johnson.  In 1930 he became director of the architecture department of the Museum of Modern Art, founded by John's mother, Abby Aldrich Rockefeller, in 1929.

The Rockefellers acquired 242-244 East 52nd Street and commissioned Johnson to design their guest house.  The vintage houses were gutted, leaving only two stories of brick side walls.  In his 1952 New York Architecture 1650-1952, Huson Jackson notes, "Although technically a remodelling [sic] job, virtually nothing of the original buildings remains except the party walls.  (By preserving them, the project was deemed "remodeling" and, therefore, circumvented the rigors of "new construction.")

On September 2, 1949, The New York Times reported, "An outstanding example of modern architecture and equipment in a town house designed largely to accommodate visiting members of the family is nearing completion in the Beekman Place section of Manhattan for John D. Rockefeller 3d and his wife."  The article stressed, "The owners, however, will continue to live in their apartment just around the corner."  (A Rockefeller spokesman said, "they preferred to call the new dwelling an adjunct to their apartment, rather than a family guest house.)

Johnson faced the symmetrical, nearly windowless base in Flemish bond, ruddy red brick.  The upper portion was mostly glass--six panels divided by steel bars.  Privacy would be accomplished by draperies.  The New York Times explained that the house was "divided into two sections."  The rear wall of the living room, said the article:

...will be of glass and will look out on a patio with a tree and small pool designed to give an 'outdoor' effect. Reached by stepping stones across this courtyard will be the separate one-story master suite of bedroom, bath and dressing room.  The bedroom also will have a plate-glass wall looking out on the courtyard, and with heavy draperies for privacy.

Above the living room were two smaller bedrooms and two baths.  The New York Times remarked, "It was reported that the furniture and furnishings would be made especially to fit in with the unusual character of the house."

Blanchette Rockefeller in the living room.  from the Library of Congress's Gottscho-Schleisner Collection

Construction was completed in 1950.  Referring to Philip Johnson's close relationship with Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, The New York Times architectural critic Paul Goldberger would later comment, "The exterior is Miesian, with glass, steel and brick creating an air of formality; within is a reflecting pool and an enormous space that is less Miesian than proto-SoHo loft."

from the Library of Congress's Gottscho-Schleisner Collection

(Interestingly, years later Philip C. Johnson said, "The top of the house doesn't exist for me.  I only added it because there is no point to doing a one-story house in New York.  It would look all wrong.")

The public had a chance to see the house in May 1951 when the City Garden Club of New York held its annual showing of gardens and penthouses.  The New York Times said, "Also open will be a New York guest house with modern pool at 242 East Fifty-second Street."  It was opened to the public again in 1954 when a benefit exhibition of young artists' works was held here.

The house was often used as additional space for the Museum of Modern Art.  In his 1973 Good Old Modern: An Intimate Portrait of the Museum of Modern Art, Russell Lynes writes:

It was presided over by a butler named Charles, who could and frequently did run up luncheons for a small number of trustees and donors to the Museum, for Important Persons and those being wooed.  There, too, were cocktail parties and small dinners and the ever present hazard of someone accidently backing into the shallow pool.

In 1955, Blanchette Rockefeller donated the building to the Museum.  It was used for events and functions until the MoMA's East Wing (also designed by Philip Johnson) was completed in 1964.

from the Library of Congress's Gottscho-Schleisner Collection

On February 7 that year, The New York Times reported, "The Museum of Modern Art has sold its Guest House."  The article noted, "The new owner is Mrs. Robert C. Leonhardt, the wife of a Manhattan business consultant, who also owns a Johnson house in Lloyd's Neck, L. I."  In reporting on the $100,000 sale (about $1 million in 2026), the article called the house, "one of Mr. Johnson's most striking designs."

Leonhardt and his wife, the former Lee Sherrod, had two children.  He told The New York Times, "the transaction was agreed upon in April, 1962."

Philip C. Johnson became the next occupant of 242 East 52nd Street when Lee Leonhardt leased it to him following the death of Robert Leonhardt.  Johnson shared the house with his partner, exhibition designer and former art dealer, David C. Whitney.  The couple introduced artworks by the likes of Andy Warhol, Frank Stella, John Chamberlain and Roy Lichtenstein.  They also repainted the interiors white.

London antiques dealer Robin Symes purchased the property in 1979.  He filled the house with an astounding collection of Art Deco furniture.  The New York Times described, "Robin Symes's collection of Art Deco lacquered or leather-wrapped furniture--the largest private holding of designs by the innovators Pierre Legrain and Eileen Gray--includes many classics of the Paris style."  Symes's partner, Christo Michailidis recalled first seeing the house to Rita Reif of The New York Times, saying, "We needed a house in New York like a hole in the head."  But, he said, they fell in love with it "as an art work."

A decade, on April 2, 1989, The New York Times reported that the entire Symes collection was slated to be sold at auction by Sotheby's.  Included in the artwork was the Rockefeller Guest House.  In reporting that it would be among the items sold (the first real estate offering ever by Sotheby's), Rite Reif noted, "Although not a landmark, it was one of Mr. Johnson's earliest architectural projects and is cited in many books on architecture."  The winning bid for the house was $11.16 million, or about $29 million today.

photograph by Epicgenius

Designated an individual New York City Landmark in 2000, the Rockefeller Guest house has undergone several owners.  It was most recently sold in December 2023 for $20 million.

The 1892 Felix Hamberger House - 123 East 95th Street

 

In two phases--completed in 1890 and 1892--developer Francis J. Schnugg erected 17 abutting houses on the northern side of East 95th Street between Park and Madison Avenues.  Nearly filling the blockfront, they were designed by Louis Entzer Jr. in a happy blend of styles.  Among the second phase was 123 East 95th Street, a mirror image of No. 125.  The structures' Rorschach-like design was best exemplified in the shared molding and Renaissance Revival carving that straddled the doorways.

Along with side-by-side stoops, the parlor floor ornaments unified the pair.

Entzer's potpourri of styles included Gothic Revival inspired square-headed moldings at the parlor level, the Renaissance Revival carving above the doors and faceted oriels at the second floor in the same style, Romanesque Revival arched windows and eyebrows at the third floor, and neo-Classical swags and wreaths in the pressed metal cornices.

No. 123 was purchased by Felix Hamberger, an insurance broker.  The family's upper-middle-class status was reflected in their ads looking for domestic help.  In wealthy families, the roles of the staff were highly defined, while in middle-class homes servants took on several responsibilities.  An advertisement on October 2, 1895 read: "General housework and plain cooking for family, adults.  123 East 95th st." and the following year, on June 15, 1896, an ad sought a "Girl to do plain cooking, washing and ironing for small family of adults."

Francis Schnugg reclaimed the house in foreclosure in 1902.  It was sold to Bernard Neuhaus who resold it to Charles Gulden in June 1906.  Gulden purchased the house as an investment and leased it to Dr. George A. Friedman and his wife.  The couple had two small children.

Among the Friedmans' staff was Katie Becker, described by the New York Herald as "a Hungarian girl of 22."  On April 27, 1912, the newspaper said that Katie was "such a model maidservant that [the couple] wouldn't part with her for anything.  Peace and quiet usually follow Katies ministrations to household needs."

That peace and quiet was shattered the the night of April 25.  Dr. Friedman came home late from a meeting at Mount Sinai Hospital.  "He found his wife and Katie in the dining room, where Katie had prepared a late supper," said the New York Herald.  Just as Friedman sat down in the basement level dining room, Katie remarked that she smelled smoke.  The doctor investigated and found the portieres between the living room and his consulting room were on fire.  The fire was put out, but Katie was "greatly excited."

Dr. Friedman assumed that Katie had accidentally set the curtains on fire while lighting the gas fixtures.  He told Katie that "she wouldn't be scolded," but she insisted that she had nothing to do with the fire.  Unconvinced, Friedman and his wife went back to their dinner and Katie went upstairs.

Seconds later, the Friedmans were jolted by Katie's screams.  The doctor bolted out of the basement door to find a policeman.  The street was busy with men and women who were leaving a dance nearby.  By the time Friedman brought back a policeman, he found his parlor floor crowded with passersby who "had run in to find out what the matter was."  He also found Katie, "lying on the floor under a small table."

The curtain incident had been, apparently, a distraction by an intruder.  When Katie came to, she told of entering her room to surprise a "big man."  She told investigators that he "put chloroform to her mouth and then dragged her downstairs, throwing her into the room where she was found," according to the newspaper.  Other than the $2.50 that had been in her purse, the intruder took nothing.

Because of that, police did not believe Katie's story.  The New York Herald said, "The police were somewhat inclined to think that Katie's digestion was out of order."  Her employer, however, trusted her.  Dr. Friedman now accepted that the "queer burglar" had set the curtains on fire and "that it was a real adventure that Katie met with when she climbed the stairs."  The article said, "So Katie won't loose her job on a charge of being too imaginative."

Dr. Friedman placed what many readers must have consider a bizarre ad in the "Lost" columns of The New York Times on July 14, 1913.  "LOST--Six rubber stomach tubes, July 9, on Lexington car, 118th St.; reward.  Physician, 123 East 95th St., 9 to 1 P.M."

The Friedmans continued to rent 123 East 95th Street through 1918.  On January 28, 1919, the New-York Tribune reported that the Charles Gulden Estate had leased it to Mrs. Harry Symonds.  She was still occupying the house when the Charles Gulden Estate offered it for sale in November 1920.

It is unclear whether Mrs. Symonds continued to lease the house from the new owner, or if she, in fact, was the purchaser.  Either way, she continued to live here.  Her vocation was the breeding of pedigree Pekingese dogs and in 1921 a dozen of her dogs were listed in The American Kennel Gazette and Stud Book.

On December 12, 1925, Noble T. Macfarland and Helen Brantingham were married in Rockford, Illinois.  Macfarland was a 1919 graduate of Amherst College and was a partner in Beckhard & Macfarlane, concert promoters.  The February 1926 issue of the Amherst Graduates' Quarterly noted, "They live at 123 East 95th Street."

As early as 1929, Henry Anderson Rapp (known as Harry) and his wife, the former Elizabeth Reilly, occupied the house.  The couple was married in 1927 and on January 7, 1929, The New York Times reported that their daughter had been born the previous day.  Suzanne Elizabeth would get a sister, Elizabeth Pamela, in 1936.  

Sharing the house by then were Henry's older brother, William J., and his wife, the former Martha Florentine Geyer Rapp.  A maritime attorney, Henry was a partner in the law firm Hann & Rapp.  Also living here was the brothers' widowed mother, Anna G. Reilly Rapp.  Anna was born in 1870.  Her husband and William's and Harry's father, Francis Berkely Rapp, died in 1921.

A young Anna G. Reilly Rapp as she appeared around the 1890s.  (original source unknown)

It was almost assuredly the Rapps who altered the parlor opening to French windows with multiple panes sometime before 1940.

The updated parlor window was in place in 1940.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The Harry Rapp family's trip to the Bronx on July 4, 1940 was doubly unlucky.  They got a flat tire in Pelham Manor and Harry pulled over to change it.  While he worked, Forest L. Appelby, Jr. slammed his car into the rear of Harry's.  The Daily Argus of Mount Vernon, New York reported, "Both cars were considerably damaged."

Anna G. Rapp died at the age of 75 on October 11, 1946.  Her estate of "more than $10,000," according to the New York Star Journal, was divided equally among her six children.

By the time of Susanne Elizabeth's engagement to E. D. Farrell Sullivan in January 1951, her family had moved to 118 East 93rd Street.  William and Martha continued to live in the East 95th Street house.  

William J. Rapp, who was still actively working at the time, died of a heart attack on December 19, 1965 at the age of 73.  It is unclear how long Martha continued to live at 123 East 95th Street.

An original mantelpiece survives on the parlor floor.  image via streeteasy.com

At some point, the house was converted to a two-family home.  Much of the interior detailing survives and from the exterior the house has changed little since the parlor windows were updated in the early 20th century.

photographs by the author