The 1878 237 East 79th Street

Following the end of the Civil War, development crept northward into the Yorkville district.  Access to the neighborhood was greatly enhanced when the IRT Third Avenue Line opened in 1878.  That year, a four-story double flat (meaning there were two apartments per floor) was erected at 237 East 79th Street.  

Faced in brownstone, it's up-to-the-minute neo-Grec design included a rusticated first floor above a short stoop.  The centered entrance was crowned with a triangular pediment.  At the upper floors, French windows were framed by elaborate architraves that sat upon bracketed sills.  Scalloped lintels with incised decorations upheld prominent molded cornices.   An ornate pressed metal cornice completed the design.

In 1940, nearly nothing had changed to the neo-Grec design, including the charming French windows.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services. 

An advertisement described, "six light rooms and bath, modern improvements."  Among those "improvements" would have been running hot and cold water.  The eight families in the building were middle class.  Among the residents in 1879 were three clerks, Thomas D. Barton Jr., Ashley W. Cole, and George A. French.  

The families were affluent enough to afford at least one servant.  An advertisement appeared in The New York Herald on December 30, 1879, for instance, that read: "Wanted--A girl for housework; two in family; wages, $7 per month."  (The wages were not overly generous.  They would equal $233 in 2026.)

The Lehn family moved to New York City from Easton, Pennsylvania in 1880 and took an apartment here.  Their 19-year-old son, George W., found a job as an "extra gateman" at the 18th Street station of the Third Avenue elevated railroad.  (Gatemen controlled the wooden gates that protected passengers on the platforms.  Gatemen opened them when the trains arrived and closed them before the trains pulled out.)

George had had the job only a short time when his inexperience and the brashness of youth caused his horrific death.  Half an hour after appearing for work on the night of September 7, 1880, he "attempted to cross from one station to the other" by trotting over the tracks rather than cross at street level.  The New York Herald reported, "His foot became caught, and before he could extricate it he was struck by Engine No. 11."  The newspaper graphically recounted, "The whole train passed over him, and his body was shockingly torn and mangled."

At the time of the tragedy, Amos K. Hadley, the former Attorney General of New York State, and his family occupied an apartment here.  Early in October 1880, Hadley notified the landlord, J. P. Huyerman, who lived on Bank Street, that he would be moving out.  The New York Evening Telegram reported, "He, however, was indebted to Mr. Huyerman for a small balance of rent and Mr. Huyerman refused to allow him to move until the amount due was paid."  Hadley told him he had was "about to collect some bills" and he would pay the outstanding money when he received the necessary cash.

On moving day, October 18, Hadley went downtown.  When he returned home he found his family and a guest of his wife imprisoned in the apartment.  The New York Evening Telegram reported that Huyerman had locked the doors and refused "to allow them to leave or to remove any of their baggage until the balance of rent was paid."  Hadley rushed to a police station and had Huyerman arrested for disorderly conduct.

The landlord's obsessive behavior over the outstanding rent cost him.  Justice Smith fined him $10 (about $325 today) and "required him to furnish $500 bail for his good behavior for six months" or serve three months in the Workhouse.  The judge announced, "it was about time that landlords learned that they do not own their tenants, body and soul."  According to the article, as Huyerman was led out of the courtroom he muttered, "We'll see about that."

On September 16, 1889, The Press titled an article, "Very Old And Very Wicked."  The headline referred to 73-year-old resident Joseph P. Snow, whom Police Inspector Thomas F. Byrnes described as "one of the most notorious 'fences' in the country."  Snow was a slippery fellow.  The Press explained, "He has been arrested dozens of times, and although stolen property has frequently been found in his possession he has thus far escaped punishment, with the exception of a term of five years which he served in Moyamensing Prison."

Snow's luck finally ran out.  On September 9, 1889, George Storms, alias Dick Short; William G. Cole, and ex-convict Charles Gardner broke into the J. C. Hecker leather goods factory and stole "several thousands dollars' worth of fancy pocketbooks, bags, etc.," according to The Press.  Most of the booty was stashed at Snow's apartment from which he intended to "dispose of" it.  A week later, after the thieves were nabbed, detectives closed in on 237 East 79th Street.  When Snow saw the detectives entering the building, he "ran into the yard, and, despite his weakness, tried to climb the fence."  Once again, Snow attempted to slip out of his dilemma.  The Press reported, "He is a bland old fellow, and told the Inspector that he did not know the goods were stolen, and promised that all would be returned if he was liberated."  This time the ploy did not work.

Four years later another resident was arrested, this time for a much more white collar crime.  Alexander Eisberg was the general bookkeeper of the State Bank of New York.  On July 21, 1893, the 27-year-old and the bank's paying teller, Carl Abresch, conspired to commit embezzlement.  They manipulated the books by creating false entries to cover up the $1,200 they stole.  When the books were audited on December 7, the discrepancy was discovered.  "Eisberg, upon being accused, made a confession," reported The Evening World on December 15.

John Schwandtner and his family lived here in 1904.  He was the senior partner in Pole & Schwandtner, structural iron contractors.  Paul Pole was essentially a silent partner.  The Evening World explained, "Mr. Pole is a man who saved a little money and put it into [the business] with Schwandtner."  The article said that Schwandtner ran the business and Pole knew almost nothing about how it operated.

That business relationship came into serious play during the construction of the Hotel Darlington.  On March 2, 1904, the building collapsed.  The next day, The Brooklyn Citizen reported that 15 bodies had been recovered from the debris, but grimly added, "The corpses are buried under many tons of structural metal and the work of getting them out necessarily is very slow."

On March 5, The Evening World reported, "The man most wanted just now by the officials who are endeavoring to place the responsibility for the Hotel Darlington disaster is John Schwandtner."  A server had taken a warrant to 237 East 79th Street on the previous morning.  Coroner Scholer, who was heading the investigation, told reporters:

He didn't find Mr. Schwandtner, but he learned that he left the house at midnight with a dress suit case and was evidently going on a journey.  We have not given up the chase, but it looks as though he had deliberately left town to avoid testifying in the inquest into these deaths.

By the time of that article, the body count had risen to 18.  Two days later, the New York Herald reported that Schwandtner had not yet been found, but "his house is being watched."

John Schwandtner was eventually tracked down and returned to New York.  Then, on March 29, 1904, The Evening World reported that a grand jury had indicted Eugene C. Allison, the managing owner of the collapsed building with manslaughter.  The article said, "To the great surprise of everybody, no indictments were found against Paul Pole and John Schwandtner."  

On November 3, 1912, the New-York Tribune ran a column titled, "At Music Studios," and reported, "Richard Loewy, violinist and teacher, whose studio is at 237 East 79th street, is establishing himself as a successful teacher."  The article noted that he "gives his pupils the benefit of his many years of study, and practical experience."  Loewy also coached singers, among whom were sopranos Mathilde Mallinger and Praxede Marcelline Proschansky.

Franklin Lacy Sheldon was "a member of a prominent family," according to The New York Sun.  He was the son of Dr. William Hills Sheldon, an assistant professor of medicine at Cornell University.  Following his graduation from Yale in 1936, Franklin Sheldon moved into 237 East 79th Street.  He found an accounting job, but then lost it in February 1938.

Sheldon's mother, who lived in a duplex apartment on East 86th Street, maintained a summer home in Bethlehem, Connecticut.  She was there on September 10, 1938 when the 26-year-old entered her apartment and committed suicide.  A handyman in that building forced his way into the kitchen, "the door of which had been propped shut with a chair," reported The New York Times.  "He found gas escaping from all the jets of the kitchen rage.  Sheldon was lying on the floor, dead."  Ironically, according to his sister, he was expected to start a new job the next morning.

No. 237 East 79th Street survives as the last remnant of the 19th century on the northern side of the block.

In 1936 the building was updated, however the exterior was left almost entirely untouched.  Then, a renovation in 1970 cut the apartments in half--now four per floor--and the 1878 neo-Grec exterior elements were removed.  The brownstone was slathered with stucco, successfully eliminating almost every hint of the original design other than the cornice.

photographs by the author

The 1890 Solomon and Josephine Zeman House - 346 West 122nd Street

Between 1888 and 1890, brothers Joseph W. and A. Alonzo Teets erected 21 brownstone-fronted houses on both sides of West 122nd Street between Morningside and Manhattan Avenues.  Those on the southern side were designed by J. A. Webster and E. H. Hammond in 1889.  (Webster had tackled the northern project alone a year earlier.)

Instead of the arched entrances seen in the two end houses, the double-doored entrances of the eight interior homes, including 346 West 122nd Street, sat below substantial molded cornices.  They sat upon heavy, foliate-carved corbels supported by diminutive paired columns on foliate brackets.

The architects striated the 16-foot-wide facade with narrow bands.  Those of the parlor level were carved with Renaissance motifs, while undressed stone contrasted with the planar brownstone of the upper floors.  The openings mimicked the entrance with carved corbels and cornices.

On October 2, 1890 A. Alonzo Teets sold 346 West 122nd Street to Josephine and Solomon Zeman for $16,750 (about $611,000 in 2026 terms).  The couple had four children, Ida, Isaac, Bertha and Fanny.

The Zemans maintained a small domestic staff.  On August 31, 1892, Josephine placed an advertisement in The World that sought, "Cook--A thoroughly competent cook; no washing; Swede or German preferred; must have references."  Josephine's noting that the cook would not share the chores of a maid or laundress was important.  Cooks who worked for upper-class families refused to do tasks they considered below their station.

The Zemans dealt in real estate.  On January 30, 1895, for instance, they sold 42 West 83rd Street to John H. Henshaw.  Other times, it appears, they operated on a strictly individual basis.  When Solomon transferred title to 112 Broome Street to Josephine in May 1898, he charged her $37,250 for the property.

Solomon Zeman died at the age of 67 on November 29, 1909.  Four years later, in February 1913, Josephine sold 346 West 122nd Street to Arthur Blue, another real estate operator.  It does not appear that Blue ever lived here, but leased the property as a rooming or boarding house.

Among his first tenants was actor Christopher Richards.  He would leave the stage for the motion picture screen early on, appearing in the 1918 silent films His Double Life and A Safe Danger.  Richard's career was successful enough that he was able to afford a motorcar.  His problem was that he had a lead foot.

On April 17, 1914, Christopher Richards stood before Magistrate Kortel to answer a charge of "running his automobile faster than the legal limit."  Motorcycle Policeman Zeh testified that, "when he overtook Richards he was running his machine through a crowded section of upper Broadway at thirty miles an hour," reported The Evening Telegram.  This was Richards's third offense.  He pleaded guilty, but "at his earnest pleadings not to be locked up," was paroled for 24 hours to obtain his $100 fine--a stinging $3,340 today.

Another tenant at the time, Vincenzo Matta, also had an automobile.  In 1914 he registered a Hudson motorcar.

At the end of World War I, Dr. John R. Hillery owned 346 West 122nd Street.  A chiropodist, his office was at 238 West 132nd Street.

Hillery was rejected by the Pedic Society of the State of New York in 1918 because of his race.  He sued on behalf of himself and eight other black doctors, "all reputable chiropodists," according to The New York Age.  His complaint charged, "the applicants were rejected simply and solely by reason of their color."

Dr. John R. Hillery, The New York Age, December 20, 1919 (copyright expired)

In its January 1920 issue, The Crisis reported, "The Supreme Court in New York City has handed down a verdict in the test case brought by Dr. John R. Hillery, a colored chiropodist, compelling the Pedic Society to admit to membership nine colored chiropodists who had been refused admission."

Hillery's civil rights work caught the attention of an unexpected figure--the Pope.  Calling Hillery "a pioneer podiatrist of Harlem and a leader of the professional group," on October 20, 1923, The New York Age reported that he had received "a most unusual honor."  The article said, "He had received the Apostolic Blessing of His Holiness, Pope Pius XI, the communication, under the Papal Seal, having been signed December 13, 1922."

The New York Age stressed, "This blessing is only conferred by the Pope upon recommendation of high ecclesiastics and then only after a rigorous examination into the honoree."  The article went on to say:

Among the doctor's clientele he numbers the great Polish pianist and statesman, Ignace de Paderewski, and the latter, when in Rome in late in May, in a personal audience, thanked the Pope for the honor conferred on his friend, Dr. Hillery.

In 1932, a wealthy patient thanked Dr. Hillery by chartering a private "passenger transport plane, used by one of the New York daily papers in making photographs from the air," as reported by The New York Age on October 7.  The unnamed patient arranged the airplane to "take Dr. Hillery and friends on an aerial trip to Washington and return."  

Hillery invited his niece and a colleague on the trip.  Terrified of flying, his wife went to the airport "and went so far as to enter the plane and be taxied around the field, but could not be prevailed upon to take the air trip," said the article.  The party was given an automobile sightseeing tour of Washington D.C. before returning to New York.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

On December 1, 1942, The New York Times reported that the estate of Dr. John R. Hillery had sold 346 West 122nd Street to Bertha Williams "for cash."  By midcentury, the house was occupied by divorcee Elinor Stahl.

On September 21, 1950, the Tarrytown, New York newspaper The Daily News said that Elinor and her former husband, Harlow Curtis Stahl, "were divorced several years ago [and] she received an undisclosed settlement reported to be $1 million and a mansion in Grosse Point Farms [Michigan]."  Why Elinor chose the West 122nd block for her New York City home is puzzling.  By now, most of the homes were converted to rooming houses.

Elinor raised social eyebrows in 1950.  The Daily News reported, "Mrs. Elinor Stahl, heiress in an exclusive Detroit suburb, was married [in Tuckahoe] to her Negro houseman, William Tibbs, on Aug. 26, it was revealed today."  The article said, "The socialite and her houseman took out the marriage license in Yonkers on Aug. 24.  She listed her age as forty-seven, and her address as 346 West 122d Street, New York City."  The groom was 26.  The Daily News reported that they would spend their honeymoon at the Grosse Point Farms mansion.

In the first years of the 2000s, the interior architectural details survived, but significant neglect was apparent.  photos via zillow.com

By the turn of the 21st century, the interior detailing survived--most of which, miraculously, had not been painted.  But decades of neglect was apparent.  The buyer restored the interiors and converted the house to a two-family home.

uncredited photographs by the author

The 1926 New York Furniture Exchange - 200 Lexington Avenue

photograph by Carole Teller

The newly formed Lexington-32nd Street Corporation acquired all the buildings along the western blockfront of Lexington Avenue between 32nd and 33rd Streets in 1925.  The architectural firm of Buchman & Kahn, in association with architect Maximilian Zipkes, was hired to design a 15-story structure that would house the New York Furniture Exchange.  Although the firm's filings do not specify which architect took the reins in the project, Ely Jacques Kahn is routinely given the credit.

Buchman & Kahn released this rendering in 1926.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Completed in 1926 at a cost of $2.7 million (nearly $50 million in 2026 terms), the monolithic structure was faced in sandy-colored brick and trimmed in terra cotta.  Its Art Deco design included elements influenced by Celtic, Assyrian and other exotic prototypes.  Above the third floor, a terra cotta frieze of an undulating vine snakes below and above trailing bellflowers (every other example defying gravity).  It is interrupted sporadically by octagonal plaques and rosettes.

The panels on either side of the fluted terra cotta tiles between the third-floor windows reflected Celtic motifs.  photograph by Carole Teller

Above the 11th floor was a complex, striated cornice.  Its contrasting layers mixed modern Art Deco motifs with ancient themes.  Rather than a terminal cornice, the three-story setback was crowned simply with a paneled parapet.

The Furniture Exchange was not a new concept.  It was established in 1891 at the Grand Central Palace at 36th Street and Seventh Avenue.  But it had come a long way since then.  An advertisement in The Decorative Furnisher in January 1927 said the New York Furniture Exchange was "where the country's furniture buying power meets."  Furniture makers and dealers nationwide leased space in the building to market their goods.  A listing of the tenants in the June 1927 issue of Furniture Index filled two full pages.  An article in the May 1928 issue of The Furniture Journal said:

Conceived more than a generation ago by a group of broad-visioned manufacturers, as a manufacturers' outlet...the Furniture Exchange in this city has from the start been a lighthouse on the Atlantic coast for the manufacturers of furniture throughout the country--a spot where they could assemble their choicest products, secure in the thought that they would be inspected here by those who ought to see them, and no others.

Only wholesale buyers were admitted into the building.  The Furniture Journal said it was "firmly barred against cowans and eavesdroppers."  The article reported that there were no fewer than "237 categories of merchandise on display in the building."

photograph by Sigurd Fischer from The Architectural Record, July 1926

While buyers could shop throughout the year, the busiest time for tenants were the winter and summer Furniture Expositions.  The two-week events drew retailers from across the nation.  On January 15, 1929, for instance, Furniture Buyer and Decorator commented, "For the past two or three weeks the big New York Furniture Exchange has been a continuous scene of hustle and bustle, getting ready for the January Semi-Annual Furniture Exposition."

The Furniture Journal, May 1928.

One dealer made history of a sort in 1955 when he leased space in the building.  On January 22 that year, The New York Age reported that Al Thompson, whose principal operation was in Brooklyn, was "the only Negro registered with the New York Furniture Exchange."  The article called Thompson a "sterling example of successful enterprise overcoming real or fancied problems of race."  It also pointed out, "More than 90 percent of Thompson's business is white."

A facade restoration was initiated in 1961.  The building was sheathed in steel and wooden scaffolding to accommodate what The New York Times described as "resurfacing work."  On the night of February 25, the city was hit with a vicious gale with wind gusts reaching 60 miles per hour.  At 8:35, Mr. and Mrs. Harris Kanzer stepped out of their car at the curb in front of 200 Lexington Avenue.  The New York Times said that at that moment, "the wind caught at the canvas screening on the two-story scaffolding of tubular steel uprights and horizontal planking."  

In a chain reaction, the scaffolding collapsed, starting at 33rd Street and ending domino-like at 32nd Street.  Eleven cars were damaged and the Kramers were pelted with debris.  Happily, they were only slightly injured.

photos by Sigurd Fischer from The Architectural Record, July 1926

The 73rd New York Winter Furniture Show started on January 14, 1964.  The timing could not have been worse.  That day, what The New York Times called "New York's worst storm of the season" hit.  But despite the blizzard, attendance was only 20 per cent down.  The article said, "Furniture dealers proved themselves a hardy breed yesterday."  More than 3,200 customers battled the blast to examine the 550 manufacturers' offerings.

Over the decades, the furniture manufacturers, of course, adapted with changing tastes.  But perhaps no one was more reflective of that than Quasar Khanh, owner of the Paris-based Quasar Inflatables.  When he arrived in New York in October 1969 with new models, he carried the chairs, poufs and lamps in a suitcase.  The designer's inflatable furniture epitomized 1960s domestic tastes.

Within a decade, the furniture trade gradually moved to Long Island City.  A renovation in 1979 resulted in an adult trade school on the fourth floor.  And in 1981, the building's name was changed to the New York Design Center.  Martin Gottlieb, writing in The New York Times on May 13, 1984, explained, "Several years ago, the 500,000 square foot New York Furniture Exchange at 200 Lexington Avenue decided to convert itself from a wholesale commercial furniture building...to a building that served designers and decorators."

Among the tenants in 1994 was the New York Chapter of the American Institute of Architects.  It was the venue for exhibitions and other events, like the panel that discussed "the impact of empowerment zones and the relationships between public policy, design and planning" on September 19, 1996.  The American Institute of Architects would remain here until 2003.

The New York Design Center established Interior Operations in 1997.  Newsday explained on September 18, "For a one-time fee of $50, clients are paired with designers who either help them complete entire projects with merchandise from the center or merely assist them in selecting a few individual items from some of the 80 showrooms in the building."  The article noted parenthetically, "when it opened in 1926, [it] was the first furniture and design building in New York City."

photograph by Carole Teller

The New York Design Center contains 100 showrooms today.  They exhibit furniture, textiles, lighting and decorative accessories.  Like Interior Operations, the current Access to Design program helps educate consumers "on the value of good design," according to the Center's website.  In the meantime, the upper floors of Buchman & Kahn's striking 1926 building is nearly unchanged a century after its doors opened.

many thanks to artist Carole Teller for suggesting this post

The Devastated Bickford's Building - 459 Lexington Avenue

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

 

Bickford's Restaurants were a familiar presence in the urban New York landscape by the 1920s.  Samuel L. Bickford opened his first cafe in 1902 and within two years he ran a chain of lunchrooms popularized by its affordable prices and quick service.  The firm described its eateries saying they "are of the self-service type and serve a limited bill of fare, which makes possible the maximum use of equipment and a rapid turnover.  Emphasis is placed on serving meals of high quality at moderate cost."

On December 18, 1928, The New York Times reported that Bickford's Lunch Systems had leased the five-story building at 459 Lexington Avenue on the northeast corner of 45th Street from Catalina Paez MacManus.  The deal came with significant stipulations.  MacManus demolished the old building and F. Russell Stuckert was hired to design a replacement structure for the leasee.

F. Russell Stuckert was the son of  J. Franklin Stuckert.  At the turn of the century, the father-and-son partnership landed a lucrative contract with Horn & Hardart to design its automats.  J. F. Stuckert & Son dissolved in 1906, and the younger Stuckert established his own practice.  

Completed in 1930, the three-story Bickford's building was faced in terra cotta.  By chamfering the corner, Stuckert gave additional light to the upper floors.  An Art Deco grill above the restaurant's doorway was mimicked in stained glass above the ground floor windows.

The elaborate Art Deco grill above the doorway was copied in glass over the vast plate glass windows.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Fluted piers at the upper floors terminated in decorative elements that rose beyond the parapet.  Between them were ornate Art Deco panels.  An octagonal clock was embedded within the corner panel.

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

The Bickford's restaurant occupied the ground floor while the upper two were rented as offices and showrooms.

Two years after opening, a senseless spree forced Bickford's to replace several of the large ground floor plate glass windows.  Between 8:30 a.m. and 4:00 p.m. on December 26, 1932, 24 windows were shot out in restaurants around the city--ten in Horn & Hardart automats and the rest in Bickford's lunchrooms.  Among the targets was the Bickford's location at 459 Lexington Avenue.  The vandalism was thought to be the act of mischievous youths, an expert glazier saying, "a sling-shot with a stout, forked frame and strong rubber bands as the catapulting agency easily might have made any of the holes."

In the meantime, the upper floors were leased to a variety of tenants.  Moe Friedman, retailer of dresses, took space on the third floor in 1936, while Madame Fischer's Beauty Salon, owned by Rose Lowenfeld Fischer, occupied the second floor.  

The New York Times explained that the Hungarian-born Rose Fischer had opened her first shop at 95 Second Avenue in 1905.  "It became popular and was frequented by actresses of the Yiddish theatre," said the newspaper.  By now, she owned nine salons.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Alexander Klein managed the beauty shop in 1938.  On March 12 that year, a man entered and brandished a pistol.  Instead of turning over the contents of the cash register, Klein fled down the stairs and found two policemen.  By the time they returned, 31-year-old Hal Seften, who had arrived in New York City from Kansas City only a few weeks earlier, had fled.  He did not get far.  Police captured him on Lexington Avenue between 50th and 51st Streets.  The pistol turned out to be a toy.  He was charged with attempted robbery and a violation of the Sullivan Law (an early gun-control statute).

In 1966, Restaurant-Waldorf Associates leased the ground floor of 459 Lexington Avenue.  The New York Times remarked that it operated "the Four Seasons and the Zum-Zum restaurants."  The article noted, "The building is now occupied by a Bickford's Restaurant."  Renovations were made to accommodate a new Zum-Zum branch.

The ground floor was modernized again in 1980.  It now accommodated four shops.  Le Croissant Shop moved into the large corner space.  On May 6, 1981, Moira Hodgson explained in The New York Times that the restaurant, "is a family operation owned by Robert Lamer, former head waiter at Le Cynge.  The baking is done on the premises by a baker who has worked at Dumas, Delices La Cote Basque and Bonte."

The 1980 renovation affected only the ground floor.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

F. Russell Stuckert's Art Deco design survived until 1992 when a new facade was installed that erased the building's architectural personality.

image via loopnet.com

Clarence F. True's 1891 161 West 76th Street

 

Clarence Fagan True designed the four upscale rowhouses at 155 through 161 West 76th Street for Duncan C. McKinlay in 1890.  He designed the brownstone-fronted homes in the Renaissance Revival style.  Like the others, the westernmost house, No. 161, was four stories tall above a high English basement.  True was noted for his often eccentric details, and carved onto the dog-legged, box stoop was a fearsome-looking dragon sinking its fangs into a banner.

The stoop detail is patently Clarence F. True.

True striated the parlor level with rough-cut bands upon the otherwise planar surface.  Stylized Corinthian pilasters  carved with vining flowers and a fantastic bird flanked the doorway.  Carved ornaments capped the fully-arched parlor windows and the molded cornice of the entranceway.

The architect treated each of the upper floor openings differently.  The second floor windows wore flush, ornately-carved lintels; those on the third floor sat below large shells; and the fourth-floor windows were embraced by carved panels and lintels.

McKinlay sold 161 West 76th Street to real estate operators Robert P. and Annie G. Martin in 1891.  They advertised:  "To Rent--Handsome new house, No. 161 West 76th st; will be decorated to suit tenant."

Their ownership would be short.  On May 2, 1892 the Martins sold the house to George and Henrietta F. Reid.  It appears that the Reids, like their predecessors, leased it.  

Living here in 1894 was Harriet Hall Valentine Holder, the widow of Charles Hawkes Holder who died in 1892.  Born in 1849, she and Charles had five children.  At least one of them, Suzanne Valentine, lived here.  The parlor was the scene of Suzanne's wedding to Charles Schumacher Jr. on November 28, 1894.

The Reids sold 161 West 76th Street in May 1898.  It became home to the John Paret Jr. family.  Born on September 4, 1835, Paret married Emily Louisa Story in 1859 and the couple had nine children--five sons and four daughters.  The family's country home was in Ellenville, New York.

Paret was the head of the men's clothing firm, John Paret & Co., founded by his father in 1816.

A charming John Paret & Co. trade card.  The reverse would have contained the advertising material.

Rufus Story Paret was the eldest of the sons.  The 35-year-old died here on June 6, 1899 and his funeral was held in the parlor on the 8th.  One month later, on July 27, John Paret died at their summer home.  His body was brought back to Manhattan and his funeral was held in the house on July 29.

At least two sons would continue to live at 161 West 76th Street with their mother.  Walter P. Paret was born in 1872 and was educated at Yale University and Columbia University Law School.  Still unmarried, he was with the law firm of Perkins & Jackson.  His older brother, John, was born in 1867 and graduated from Cornell University in 1893.  He, too, was unmarried.  A banker, he was associated with the Union Trust Company.

The Parets left West 76th Street early in 1902.  As was common at the time, when affluent families relocated they sold everything in their previous home and started over.  An auction of the contents of 161 West 76th Street was held on February 7, 1902.  The announcement listed items like "rich hangings, Gold and Vernis Martin Cabinets, rare and costly Curios."  There were also a "Gold Drawing Room Suite, odd and beautiful Chairs, Turkish Rugs, Oil Paintings by eminent Artists."  A particular Royal Vienna pedestal was valued at $500 and a Royal Dresden vase, described as "one of the largest in the city" was valued at $550.  The combined value of those two items alone would translate to about $40,500 in 2026.

Typical of Clarence True's designs, close inspection of the entrance pilasters reveals a fantastic fowl seemingly plucking at a vine.

The house next became home to Adolph and Sophie Hirsch.  Adolph was a partner in the commodity, fertilizer and chemical commission firm of Heller, Hirsch & Co.  The couple had three children, Herbert Adolph, Ralph Tuska, and Alice M.  

Herbert was attending the Harvard Law School when the family moved in.  He graduated in 1905 and, despite his law degree, he took a job as a clerk with Heller, Hirsch & Company.

Sophie Hirsch died on October 22, 1914.  The following month, on November 27, Adolph transferred title to the house in equal parts to his three children.

The Hirsch family leased 161 West 76th Street to Mary H. Squire in April 1916.  She either shared the house or sub-let it to Florence McMillan, who operated her music studio here.

Musical America September 30, 1916 (copyright expired)

In 1920, Mrs. Lulu Freeth Bosworth occupied the house.  She was active in the Professional Woman's League.

The Hirsch siblings advertised 161 West 76th Street for sale in 1921.  The ad on April 28 in the New York Herald read, "Four story high stoop residence, 15 rooms and 4 baths; 19x100; price $33,000; immediate possession."  Two months later, on June 4, the New-York Tribune reported that the Hirsches had sold it to Thomas S. Keatinge.

Alice Hirsch seems to have had seller's regret.  The 1923 American Art Annual's "Who's Who In Art" section listed Alice as having a studio on Washington Square and living at 161 West 76th Street.  Alice would have been renting rooms in her former home.  Another resident at the time was musician Frederic W. Berryman, who, until 1921, was organist and choirmaster of St. Peter's Church in Chelsea.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

Among the tenants here in 1938 was Harriet Brown Nielson.  The 35-year-old was described by her attorney, Bernard H. Sandler, that year as "a member of a well-to-do California family, a writer, a linguist and a former Olympic swimmer."  Despite her rather illustrious background, Harriet was experiencing personal problems.

Nielson occupied two furnished rooms.  On the afternoon of February 7, 1938, she met William King, a saxophone player who worked for the Workers Progress Administration.  (His name, it turned out, was actually William Loftus.)  They went to dinner and, according to Loftus, "Mrs. Nielson had several drinks."  On the way to her apartment, they picked up a pint of gin.  When they finished it, they "took a walk and bought a quart of liquor," according to Loftus, "most of which they drank."

At one point, Loftus, a.k.a. King, allowed Harriet's two kittens to escape the apartment.  She flew into a rage and hit Loftus with an empty gin bottle, cutting his face.  According to him, he slapped her and, later, she fell several times and each time he picked her up.  He eventually passed out and when he awoke the next morning, Harriet was dead on the floor.

An autopsy revealed that Harriet, "former Pacific Coast diving champion," as described by the Syracuse Journal, had died of a "homicidal assault."  Dr. Milton Helpern said that Harriet's death was caused by abdominal hemorrhage, "following a traumatic laceration of the liver."  He explained that the injury "was caused by a blow and could not have resulted from a fall."

William Loftus was arrested for murder.  The following month, on March 19, 1938, The New York Times reported that a grand jury, "after listening to four witnesses," dismissed the charge.  What actually led to the former Olympic swimmer's death will never be known.

Frank J. Patti rented a room here in 1944.  The 26-year-old bus driver boarded a Staten Island Ferry on August 5 that year.  He was on the lower deck and "became angry when ordered behind ropes that had railed off part of the deck," as reported by the Staten Island Advance.  So angry was he, in fact, that he slugged 46-year-old deckhand Thomas Cochan in the jaw.

When the ferry pulled into the St. George terminal at 6:00 p.m., Patti was removed by police.  He was charged with third degree assault.  The case was scheduled for trial, but when Frank Patti agreed to pay Cochan "for any damage that had been done," according to the Staten Island Advance on September 7, Cochan dropped his complaint.  (The amount that Cochan agreed upon to ameliorate his injuries was not revealed.)

Also occupying a room here at the time was Walter L. Rowe.  On April 30, 1944, the 57-year-old stepped off the curb at Amsterdam Avenue and 76th Street and was killed by a hit-and-run driver.  Whether the offender was ever arrested is unclear.

In 1968, 161 West 76th Street was converted to apartments, two per floor.  Two decades later, a penthouse level, unseen from the street, was added.  In doing so, one of the fourth-floor apartments was raised to a duplex.

photographs by the author

The Lost Samuel and Abigail Waterbury House - 34 East 30th Street

 

When this photograph was taken in 1912, buildings had crowded around the property.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

Samuel Waterbury was born on January 25, 1795 and his wife, the former Abigail Williams, was born on March 21, 1806.  By the 1840s, when the couple lived in a vintage house on Beekman Street, Waterbury was a well-established cabinetmaker.  And their once-refined neighborhood was being rapidly transformed by commerce.

The couple were last listed on Beekman Street in 1848.  They had purchased land north of the established city on East 30th Street between Madison and Fourth Avenues.  (The latter would become Park Avenue South in 1959).

The Waterburys erected a 34-foot-wide frame house on the plot.  Two-and-a-half stories tall, its charming semi-rural design straddled the Greek Revival and Italianate styles.  The former was reflected in the sidelights and transom of the paneled door, in the Doric corner pilasters, and in the "end returns" of the gable eaves.  The Italianate style influenced the floor-to-ceiling parlor windows, the exceptionally tall second floor openings, and the wooden decorations atop the porch and roofline.

The house sat back on the property behind an especially tall iron fence and gate.  On the property was an apple orchard and decades later Abigail would tell a guest, "I could see from my windows the sun rise over one river and set over the other."

Samuel was one of four children born to Henry and Margaret Waterbury.  None of his siblings would marry and at some point his only brother, David H. (born 1807), moved into the East 30th Street house.

Samuel Waterbury retired in 1866.  By then, brownstone houses had begun appearing in the neighborhood.  As more and more crowded in around the Waterburys' house, it became a picturesque anachronism on the block.

David H. Waterbury died on January 14, 1873.  His funeral was held in the parlor on the 17th.  Five years later, on July 26, 1878, Samuel Waterbury died.  His funeral was held in the house three days later.

Abigail Williams Waterbury remained in the house, maintaining its pristine flowerbeds and tidy yard.  Gradually, the outbuildings and the orchard were sold off, until Abigail's carefully preserved slice of 1849 countryside was surrounded by modern structures.

On April 20, 1904, Abigail celebrated her 99th birthday by hosting "a dinner party to three of her friends," as reported by the New York Herald.  A week later, on May 29, 1904, the newspaper remarked:

A little white frame house, two stories high, with a pointed attic above them, a narrow piazza, a little stretch of ground in front and a white picket fence [sic] running between its grounds and the sidewalk is an odd thing to find in a great city like New York of to-day.

The article said that Abigail, "except for her servants and a woman companion, lives alone in her quaint abode, which has been her home for half a century."  The newspaper described Abigail as "a neighborhood celebrity" and "a fine looking woman."  She was particularly fond of "all dumb animals," said the article, which said she "often stopped on the street to pat a dog or cat when she was out walking."

The New York Herald went on to describe the house, saying in part:

Passersby can see right through the rooms of the first story.  The shades are drawn high and the old fashioned white lace curtains do not hide from view the masses of beautiful flowers standing in the drawing room, or the green parrot in a big cage before the window of the back parlor.  The flowers are famous in the neighborhood.  Relatives send them in from the country twice a week.

Abigail's birthday dinner would be her last.  On April 22, 1905, one month before her 100th birthday, she died in the house.  In reporting her death, the New York Herald reminded readers, "For over half a century she had lived in the little old fashioned frame house in East Thirtieth street, which with its prim flower beds in front had for many years been a curious landmark among the brick and brownstone houses which line the street on both sides and which had grown to be landmarks themselves."

Abigail's funeral in the drawing room on April 22, 1905 would be the last function in the house.  Seven months later, the Waterburys' furnishings were auctioned.  The announcement gives a hint of the couple's comfortable interiors: "Grandfather's clock, Colonial chairs, tables, old paintings, engravings, miniatures, arms, armor, curios, ivory carvings, draperies, genuine antiques."

For decades, developers and real estate operators had been waiting in the wings for the Waterbury property to become available.  On May 18, 1905, The Evening Post reported, "The most noteworthy [real estate news] was the sale by the Waterbury estate, of the frame thirty-four-foot dwelling at No. 34 East Thirtieth Street, only another evidence, of course, of the insatiable demand for property in the Park Avenue neighborhood."  

The purchase by George Rosenfeld initiated a series of turnovers.  He resold it to the New York Operating Company in April 1908, which sold it two years later.  On March 12, 1910, The New York Times reported, "The purchaser is a builder, who will erect a business structure on the site."

The quaint Waterbury house was demolished.  Its idyllic site was used, temporarily, by baseball teams.  On March 23, 1913, The New York Times remarked, "Pee Wee Park, that now famous baseball lot at 34 East Thirtieth Street, was invaded yesterday by a squad of militiamen from the Twelfth Regiment, looking for baseball action."

Teams would have to find a new venue in 1921.  That year, on May 19, The New York Times reported that George F. Pelham had filed plans for a nine-story office and store building.  That structure survives.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services