Born in Funchal, Portugal in 1838 and a veteran of the Civil War, George W. Da Cunha lived with his wife, Rosina, in New Jersey in the last quarter of the 19th century. But that did not stop him from designing and erecting some of the most notable Manhattan buildings of the period. Looking back at his early career in 1917, The Montclair Times recalled that he "built a number of buildings which at that time attracted considerable attention for originality of design and style of construction."
In 1891, Da Cunha acquired the lots at 202 and 204 West 81st Street and filed plans for "two five-story and stone flats" on the site. Each of them was projected to cost $40,000 to construct, or about $1.46 million in 2026 terms. The project was a husband-and-wife effort, with Rosina W. Da Cunha listed as the owner of record.
Completed within the year, the two buildings--The Alberta and The Madria--were distinctly different. The Alberta at 202 West 81st Street was designed in the Romanesque Revival style with light-hearted touches of Queen Anne. Its double-doored entrance sat within a yawning maw above a four-step stoop. It was flanked by large gas lanterns supported by ornate cast iron brackets. The first and second floors were faced in rough cut brownstone. The paired windows of the first floor were fronted with half-bowls carved with Romanesque designs. Small Queen Anne-style panes outlined the upper half of the second floor openings.
Impressive gas lanterns flank the arched entrance. The transoms of the first-floor windows most likely held stained glass. via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.
via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.
Among the early tenants were Dr. Rollin B. Gray and his wife, the former Lydia Dutcher Whitney. Born in Randolph, Pennsylvania in 1840, Gray received his medical degree from the Homoeopathic College of New York in 1871. He and Lydia had two children, Anita and Marian. (Two other daughters, Lillian and Elizabeth had died at the ages of five and one, respectively.)
Several years after moving into The Alberta, Dr. Gray caused panic among mothers and nannies throughout the Upper East and West Sides. On June 30, 1901, the New-York Tribune began an article saying, "Dr. Rollin B. Gray, who for years has had a practice among people on the west side of Central Park, says that Manhattan's great breathing space is a bad place to take young children, because of malaria." Gray had convened reporters to his office here to sound the alarm. He told them that in the past few days he had treated two babies who "were stricken with malaria while being wheeled through the park." Gray explained that mosquitoes, which carried the disease, were breeding in the stagnant pools and decayed vegetation of the park.
He quickly faced vehement opposition. One park policeman told a reporter from the New-York Tribune, "This is the greatest place for babies that ever was. They thrive on the fresh air and enjoy the shade just as much as older people. Thousands of babies are brought here every day. Do you suppose that we would not have heard of it before if the park was reeking with malaria?" A more authoritative opinion came from the Board of Health. While admitting that there were mosquitoes in the park, an official said that "Central Park mosquitoes are not the malaria carrying kind." The article added, "the officers say that Manhattan is remarkably free from the disease."
In the meantime, the residents of The Alberta were, like the Grays, upper-middle class. Each of the families had at least one servant. On September 24, 1899, for instance, one resident advertised for a "competent and reliable German governess."
The Alberta was purchased in 1901 by the wife of James Daniel. Daniel was described by the New York Herald as "a traveling salesman for a stove company," and his wife, said The New York Times, "is said to be wealthy." The couple, who had a rocky relationship, moved into an apartment here.
According to Mrs. Daniel, her husband "was a hard drinker and went on sprees two or three times a month," recounted The New York Times. She said, "when in this condition he usually went to stay with his friend [William H.] Messenger. He was never violent when drunk, but simply had the good taste to stay away from home until sober."
And so, when James did not return home on the night of August 17, 1903 and was still absent five days later, Mrs. Daniel was not especially concerned. And, indeed, during that period James Daniel was staying with William Messenger on East 138th Street. On August 21, the two went to Coney Island, where they continued their week-long bender. When they returned to Manhattan, reported the New York Herald, "they decided not to go directly to Messenger's room, but to rest at the pier at the foot of East 132nd Street." The drunken men were "skylarking," according to witnesses. Suddenly, the 36-year-old Daniel jumped into the water "clothes and all."
After swimming around for a few minutes, Daniel was not able to climb out of the water. The New York Herald said he "tried to cling to the piles supporting the piers." By the time policemen jumped in to rescue him, it was too late. James Daniel was pulled from the water unconscious and died shortly afterward. (Messenger was arrested for intoxication.)
Police went to The Alberta apartment to notify his wife. (The New York Times parenthetically said it "is a handsome four-story [sic] structure built for private apartments and the property of Mrs. Daniel). The newspaper said she "didn't seem much surprised."
Typical of the residents at the time of Daniel's death was financier Edward R. Holden, the head of E. R. Holden & Co., and an owner of a mine and a smeltery.
The building continued to attract upper-middle-class residents. On January 29, 1911, for instance, The New York Times reported, "The Misses McCarthy, 202 West Eighty-first Street, gave a musicale on Thursday evening at their home."
Among the sisters' neighbors in the building at the time was Brigadier General Franclyn Elbert Davis. Born in Brooklyn in 1858, he received a bachelor's degree from St. John's College, a Ph.G. from the Massachusetts College of Pharmacy, and a medical degree from the University of Victoria Medical College. His astounding resume included military surgeon, pharmacist, director of the National Volunteer Emergency Services, and author. The 1916 One Thousand American Men of Mark Today said, "He has traveled all over the world, and was the first man to introduce into this country serums from the Institut Pasteur, Paris, and to introduce oxygen apparatus for the life saving of the miners."
Around 1912, the building was renamed The Maryland. The residents continued to be respectable and upstanding. Living here by 1918 were clergyman and poet James Benjamin Kenyon and his wife, the former Margaret Jane Taylor. Born in 1858 in Frankfort, New York, he entered the Methodist Episcopal ministry in 1878. Among his books of poetry were the 1887 In Realms of Gold; At the Gate of Dreams, published in 1892; and the 1895 An Oaten Pipe.
The post-World War I years brought a more working class tenant list. Living here in 1921 were Robert Ryan, a "night worker," as described by The Evening World, and his wife. The couple had a serious scare that year. On the morning of November 15, Ryan returned from work to find his wife in convulsions. She told him that she "had taken bichloride of mercury by mistake." The Evening World reported, "She was taken to the Knickerbocker Hospital and is expected to recover."
The once sprawling apartments were dissected into rented rooms as early as 1923. On September 12 that year, Detectives Martin Owens, Thomas Horan and John Cronin followed Irving Cohan and Joseph Levine, who were suspected in an armed robbery, to a third floor apartment. When no one answered their knock, Horan and Cronin waited in the hallway while Owens went to the roof, climbed down the rear fire escape and entered through a window. He opened the door for his partners. The New York Times reported, "The air was acrid with fumes from a quantity of opium simmering on a gas burner. A complete opium layout was found on a table."
The detectives arrested Esther Kaplan, a.k.a. Newberg, and five men. In addition to the opium and equipment, they discovered two firearms. "Both were fully loaded, and the lead bullets in the revolver were criss-crossed with lines to cause them to mushroom upon impact," said the article.
The following year, resident Benedict Radus, who listed his profession as a real estate agent, was arrested with three other men in a conspiracy to rob wealthy Dr. Hugo J. Loebinger. Radus told the doctor he could acquire $43,000 worth of stolen Liberty bonds and a large sum of Russian gold rubles "which could be obtained at about one-quarter their value," explained The New York Times on August 26, 1924. When Loebinger arrive at Radus's apartment with $7,000, the other two conspirators had a satchel containing magazines and newspapers "arranged in bundles in the shape and size of Liberty bonds." The trio was prepared "with coils of rope and a pistol," said police. The plan fell apart when Loebinger escaped.
Wilfred Lillback rented rooms here in 1927. The son of a Brooklyn clergyman, he had been arrested in 1924 for a hold-up. His lawyer at that time pleaded for clemency because "an accident to his head when a child had made a criminal of him."
On January 20, 1927, Policeman Sullivan noticed three trunks and three automobiles at the curb of 202 West 81st Street. When he questioned them, one of the men explained they were moving. Unconvinced, Sullivan "forced the man to take him to the apartment." Inside, he found Lillback and another man in "a room full of stolen clothing." Lillback and his accomplices, Charles Hayes and Will Abramson were arrested and charged of committing nine burglaries in Brooklyn.
James J. Barrett and Joseph Robert Sylvester, who were 23 and 19 years old respectively, shared a furnished room here in 1950. Sylvester, despite his age, had three felony convictions. On the afternoon of April 29, they and another man, Robert Adelman, attempted to stick-up the Jewel Chest on Sixth Avenue. The jewelry store had been purchased only a month earlier by Jacob Wasserman, a survivor from the Nazi concentration camp where his parents were killed. The trio botched the robbery and Wasserman was shot. The perpetrators fled in separate directions.
Barrett did not get far. He was seized by a patrolman nearby. At the 47th Street police station, he gave up the names and addresses of his accomplices. Their legal troubles worsened when Jacob Wasserman died from his injuries on May 2.
Later that year, on November 18, 1950, another resident, 30-year-old Carlos Villasnov, was captured as he ran from the Macy's Department store in Jamaica, Queens. He and two others had just slipped three men's suits from a rack and into a cardboard box.
Renting a room here in 1963 was ex-convict Alberto Gomez. He had been released from Rikers Island in June 1962. On July 25, he attempted to cash stolen travelers checks in a Chemical Bank branch in midtown. The teller recognized the check numbers from a bulletin reporting the thefts. When he summoned a manager, Gomez bolted. He was arrested minutes later and charged for "receiving stolen money orders, felonious assault and forgery."
Renovations completed in the late 20th century resulted in five apartments per floor. In the remodeling, the entrance doors and windows were modernized (sadly with with loss of the Queen Anne panes), and the first floor windows shortened. The entrance lanterns were removed, the gable chopped off, and the terra cotta shells of the top floor removed and replaced with sheet metal. The masonry was painted as well.
photographs by the author

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