Gronenberg & Leuchtag's 1929 118 Riverside Drive

 

Interestingly, the architects chamfered the 84th Street corner, but not the end at 83rd Street.

By the mid-1920s, opulent private dwellings were falling from favor as luxurious apartment buildings offered convenience and modern amenities.  In 1928, the Driveway Realty Corporation demolished the buildings at 337 through 339 West 83rd Street, the mansions at 110 through 118 Riverside Drive, and at 348 West 84th Street.  The syndicate, headed by Joseph H. Schwartz, hired Gronenberg & Leuchtag to design a massive apartment building on the site.

Completed at a cost of $1.2 million (about $22.6 million in 2026), the 16-story structure was designed in the Renaissance Revival style and faced in variegated beige brick.  Although the entrances were on 83rd and 84th Streets, they took the more impressive addresses of 110 and 118 Riverside Drive.  The architects embellished the overall spartan design with romantic stone and terra cotta Renaissance elements.  The identical entrances sat within two-story stone frames.  Intricately carved, layered columns flanked the double doors.  They sat within an arch with alternating carved and planar voussoirs.  Directly above was a triple arcade with twisted columns.

Added interest was achieved with faux terra cotta balconies with spiral columns, ornate panels of swag-draped cartouches and rondels with faces at the fifth and fourteenth floors.  An arched corbel table of terra cotta ran below the terminal cornice.

On May 15, 1929, The New York Times reported that S. Fishkin and C. F. Zittel had signed leases.  Carl Florian Zittel, known popularly as Zit, was among New York's most well-known talent agents and managers.  

C. F. Zittel (original source unknown)

Born in Patterson, New Jersey in January 1876, Zittel began his career as a boy selling newspapers on the corner of Fourth Avenue and 23rd Street.  By the time he and his wife, the former Martha Beatrice Bernstein, moved into 118 Riverside Drive, he had founded and was publisher of Zit's Weekly (a forerunner to Billboard), was the manager of the Central Park Casino, and an executive within Marcus Loew's theatrical chain.

At 10:30 on the morning of December 13, 1930, two delivery men arrived at the service entrance with a kitchen table wrapped in brown paper.  The New York Times reported, "They were admitted without question and were taken to the service elevator."  The pair went up to the eight-room Zittel apartment.  The maid, Maud Draggon, opened the service door on its lock chain.  One of the men explained, "We have a package here for you, but you aren't to let Mr. Zittel see it."  Assuming it was a Christmas present for Zittel, she opened the door.  The men slid the table into the kitchen.

Martha Zittel heard the noise and entered the kitchen.  The New York Times reported, "As she opened the door the tall man pointed his pistol at her and demanded 'money and jewelry.'"  She said she had nothing and he asked where the wall safe was.  Terrified, Martha said it was empty and when she opened it, indeed it was.

The veteran burglars knew that there would be another safe somewhere in the apartment.  They found it covered by a red velvet drape, pretending to be a pedestal for a large statue.  When Martha said she did not know the combination, one of the thugs placed a knife to her throat.  With trembling fingers, she unsuccessfully tried to work the combination once, and then the second time it opened.  "The men pushed her aside and started the quick work of cleaning out the contents."  The newspaper said, "Thirty-five minutes after they had casually ascended by the service elevator they went down again--the richer by $150,000 in jewelry.  They left the table...the only clue by which the police hope to establish some future contact with them."  The value of the heist would translate to $2.9 million today.

The Zittel apartment was by far not the only target of the ingenious burglars, who gained access by posing as floral deliverymen, upholsterers and other service men.  Ten months after the Zittel robbery, "two sleek young men," as described by The New York Times were arrested for the string of thefts.

Other residents at the time were William J. Pedrick, Max Henry Wurtzel and Radoye Yankovitch, the Consul General of Yugoslovia.

The Yankovitch apartment was the scene of social and diplomatic gatherings.  One event that straddled both was the dinner party they gave "in honor of Mrs. and Mr. B. Singer, Consul General of Turkey and president of the Pan-American Consular Corps of Chicago" on April 22, 1930.

William J. Pedrick and his wife, the former Rea Katherine Forhan, had four children.  He had served in the Army Air Service during World War I and became president of the Fifth Avenue Association in 1931.  His career would take a few turns in the coming years.  On February 11, 1935, The New York Times reported that he was stepping down to become president of William J. Pedrick & Co., "a new general insurance and real estate enterprise."  He would change course again seven years later when he was sworn in as Collector of Internal Revenue for the Second District on February 12, 1942.

Insurance broker Max Henry Wurtzel was a well-to-do bachelor.  He shared his apartment with his sister, Rose, her husband, Harry G. Matfis, and their son, Jerome.  The Matfis family lived with Wurtzel, it seems, because Harry Matfis was insolvent.  Wurtzel attempted repeatedly to get him onto his feet.  According to Dr. George L. Wurtzel, Max's brother, "Matfis was set up in the haberdashery business four times," by Max, and each time he failed.

The Great Depression dealt a blow to Max Wurtzel.  On November 23, 1933, The Chicago Daily Tribune explained, "Wurtzel recently lost $200,000."  His stress was heightened when Harry Matfis asked "to borrow more money" on November 21.  Early the next morning, Wurtzel walked into Harry Matfis's bedroom and shot him in the head while he was sleeping.  He then returned to his own bedroom and swallowed poison.

Rose Matfis discovered the carnage when she went into Harry's bedroom to awaken him.  Her brother had left a note on the back of one of his business cards:  "I am sorry to cause all this trouble, folks.  Take care of Jerry.  Please see that I am buried from Riverside Memorial Hospital."

Harry C. McClarity was president of the marine consulting firm H. C. McClarity Company and of the Union Stevedoring Corporation.  He and his wife, the former Hazel Dell, had a daughter.  Their country home, Dellcrest, was in Westport, Connecticut.  

At 11:00 on the morning of March 14, 1938, McClarity asked the butler, 44-year-old Lawrence L. Devine, "to go out and buy some cigarettes and newspapers," according to The New York Sun.  An hour later, McClarity became impatient and rang for the butler, who did not answer.  When Devine was not back at 1:00, McClarity, "searched the apartment promising himself he would fire the butler when he found him," said the article.

Suddenly, he had a alarming thought.  He went into his daughter's bedroom and opened the top drawer where she kept her jewelry box.  It was empty.  He then looked in his desk and discovered $1,300 in cash was gone.  The New York Sun reported, "Included in the jewelry was a brooch containing 281 diamonds and twelve emeralds, valued at $9,000; a clip pin made of 198 diamonds, worth $5,000; a diamond ring, valued at $3,500 and a diamond and pearl ring valued at $700."  

Two days later, The New York Times said that police were still searching for Devine after he disappeared "on the same day that $19,500 in jewelry and cash vanished from the McClarity apartment."  

This unidentified living room was photographed by Wurts Bros. in 1942.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

At the time, Charles E. Hohn and his wife, Maia Bang, occupied a penthouse apartment.  Born in 1887, Hohn was a silk importer.  Maia Bang was born in Norway in 1880 and came to America around 1920 “as an assistant to Leopold Hauer,” according to The New York Times.  (Hauer was a Hungarian violinist, conductor and composer.)  Maia Bang was an accomplished violinist and violin teacher, and the author of several books on musical instruction.

Maia Bang died in their apartment on January 3, 1940.  Two years later, on March 8, 1942, a doorman noticed milk bottles and newspapers outside the apartment door.  Using a passkey, he entered the apartment and "found Mr. Hohn lying on the roof," according to The New York Times.  He called the police and a doctor.  They told reporters that Charles Hohn "had been dead about ten or twelve hours and that death was apparently due to a heart attack."

The building got a celebrity in 1940 when baseball star Babe Ruth and his wife, Claire Hodgson, moved in.  George Herman Ruth was born in 1895.  The stellar athlete earned the nickname The Sultan of Swat during his 22 seasons that ended in 1935.  He is remembered as one of the greatest baseball players of all time and when he and Clair moved into the Riverside Drive building, he was nothing short of an idol to millions of Americans.

Babe Ruth, his first wife, Helen Woodford, and their daughter in 1925.  from the collection of the Library of Congress

On March 25, 1946, Ruth was clocked at driving 60 miles per hour on the Saw Mill River Parkway.  It may have been his celebrity that earned him "a pass" when his ticket was dismissed.

Within a year, Babe Ruth was battling cancer.  On February 16, 1947, The New York Times reported that Babe Ruth had left the French Hospital, "perceptibly grayer, a little weak on his feet, and weighing 189 pounds."  He had lost 36 pounds since entering the hospital a month earlier.  He told a reporter, "I want to look at the river from my apartment window."

The President of Mexico, Miguel Aleman, visited New York City three months later.  He made time on his busy agenda to visit Babe Ruth in his apartment on May 5.

Ruth died in the hospital on August 16, 1948 at the age of 53.  His casket was displayed in the rotunda of Yankee Stadium for two days, seen by approximately 77,000 people.

Dr. Joseph Nisonoff occupied a medical suite here as early as 1942.  That year he was out on a $25,000 bail, charged with "performing an illegal operation" in May 1940.  (The polite term referred to an abortion.)  A similar charge had been dismissed in 1930.  He was in trouble again on November 26, 1942.  The New York Times reported that he had been "charged with homicide in connection with the death of a woman government employe [sic] after an illegal operation."  Assistant District Attorney James Carney described Nisonoff as a "murderer" and "unfit to be a doctor."

On April 8, 1943, Nisonoff was sentenced to "an indeterminate term in the city penitentiary."  In sentencing him, Judge Lester W. Patterson said, "There is no question in my mind that this man performed hundreds, maybe even a thousand abortions.  The dead girl was four months pregnant when he performed the abortion, and but for him the girl would be alive today."

Somewhat shockingly, a month later The New York Times reported that Nissonoff had been granted "a certificate of reasonable doubt pending [his] appeal in the Appellate Division" and had been released at $35,000 bail.   This time, however, Dr. Nissonoff was unsuccessful.  On April 20, 1945, he began his five to fifteen year sentence in State Prison.

In January 1959, Claire Ruth was scheduled to be interviewed by Edward R. Murrow for the popular television program Person to Person.  Her daughter and grandson traveled from New Hampshire to be part of the episode, which was to be filmed in the Ruth apartment.  But an unprecedented glitch occurred.

The managing agent for the building, Felix Harding, demanded a fee "for the use of the facilities."  Co-producer of the show, Jesse Zousmer "said that it was the first time in five years and 460 visits that such a problem had arisen," reported The New York Times.  The producers refused, saying "it would raise a question of doing the same thing for the hundreds of other people already interviewed."  Claire Ruth told The New York Times she was "deeply hurt" by the cancellation.

Claire Hodgson Ruth died of cancer in "her memorabilia-filled apartment," as worded by The New York Times, at the age of 76 on October 26, 1976.  The article said that in the 28 years since her husband's death, "Mrs. Ruth had devoted her life to his memory and achievements."

In 1982, the building was converted to cooperatives.  The co-op board, unfortunately, did not regulate the replacement windows, resulting in today's mish-mash of fenestration.  Otherwise, the nearly century-old structure survives lovingly intact.

photographs by the author

The Lost Good Will Chapel - 221 East 51st Street

from the collection of the New York Public Library

The Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church sat at the corner of Madison Avenue and 51st Street in 1887.  On August 1 that year, the trustees purchased the two-story brick house at 221 East 51st Street from John McNully, and the "two-story frame stable and two-story brick dwelling on rear" from Henry and Elizabeth Rabe, as reported by the Record & Guide.  The neighborhood was starkly different from that of the Madison Avenue Presbyterian, which was filling with opulent mansions.  Turtle Bay, on the other hand, teemed with breweries, slaughterhouses, coal yards, and such.  

It was precisely those conditions that attracted the attention of the trustees.  On November 4, 1887, architect James E. Ware filed plans for a "two-story and attic brick, stone and terra cotta Sunday School house" on the site.  Completed the following year, Ware's eccentric design was a marriage of Romanesque Revival and Queen Anne.  

Two arched entrances flanked a grouping of four slit-like windows.  They were overpowered by piers nearly equal in width.  Somewhat distractingly, Ware gave them and the pilasters of the entrances busy, protruding bands.  The upper story was dominated by three arches, the central of which was designed in a near Palladian configuration.  The thick bands of its outer engaged columns lined up with the quoins of the outer windows.  Ware generously used Queen Anne-style tiles on the upper floor--in the spandrels in the frieze between the floors, in the panels under the windows, and in the spandrels of the triangular gable.

The Good Will Chapel was more than a Sunday school, as Ware's plans suggested.  There was a kindergarten (operated by the New York Kindergarten Association), and the auditorium doubled as a meeting space for local groups and for lectures and such.

The severe differences in the social and financial status of the congregants of the Madison Avenue Church and the attendees of its chapel were clearly reflected in an article in the New-York Tribune on June 9, 1889.  It reported that the pastor of the Madison Avenue Church, Dr. Charles L. Thompson, and his wife would be spending the summer in Europe.  All wealthy churches closed in the summer social season because their congregants were at their country homes or resorts.  The Turtle Bay denizens, on the other hand, had no place to go.  "His church will be closed in July and August," said the article, "but there will be preaching every Sunday in the Good Will Chapel, in East Fifty-first-st."

Examples of the meetings held in the auditorium were the "concert and entertainment" held by the Goodwill Social Circle on October 17, 1889, and the "anti-Tammany meeting" that was held there on September 30, 1894.  The New York Herald reported that it was "attended by colored women, who have organized under the leadership of the wife of the Rev. Granville Hunt, the pastor of the colored Baptist church 352 West thirty-fifth street."  

In 1898, the Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church sold 221-223 East 51st Street to Congregation Orach Chaim (the Path of Life).  The congregation was formed in 1870 and before moving in, it hired architect William C. Sommerfeld to make interior renovations.  His plans included, "new partition, erect platform, erect toilet room."

Congregation Orach Chaim would not remain here for especially long.  On June 23, 1906, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that it had sold the property to Congregation Beth Hamedrash Hachodosh Talmud Torah.  The name did not easily roll off the tongue, and the shul was familiarly known as Torah Synagogue.

Seats in synagogues, even in financially depressed neighborhoods, cost the congregants.  On  May 13, 1907, for instance, Abraham Trew leased "seats Nos. 3 and 11 on main floor and gallery" for $100.  The rent would translate to about $3,500 today, but the lease ran for three years.

The congregation suffered what was either simple vandalism or malicious antisemitism on the evening of March 13, 1911.  There were approximately 300 worshippers in the auditorium, according to The New York Times, when a brick crashed through the skylight "and fell on the knees of Aaron Goodman, a real estate man."  The article said, "it just missed his head, but a shower of glass fell on him and inflicted many light cuts."

Another congregant picked up the brick and took it to the East 51st Street Police Station.  A detective discovered a second brick that had been thrown through the skylight, "but had been intercepted by a beam and did not fall among the worshippers."  The article noted that the synagogue was surrounded "by a number of tenements," and hurling bricks from the windows would be simple.  Police surmised that the missiles had been thrown by neighborhood boys.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

On September 20, 1950, Rabbi David B. Kahane, "one of the youngest ordained clergymen in the country," according to The New York Times, was appointed head of what was now known as the East Fifty-first Street Orthodox Synagogue.  The outspoken cleric would clearly make his stance on religious, political and social issues from the pulpit over the coming years.

The congregation was highly honored on May 12, 1951.  The New York Times reported, "Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion, accompanied by members of his entourage, attended Sabbath services yesterday morning at the East Fifty-first Street Synagogue, 221 East Fifty-first Street."  Rabbi Kahane said, "Having in our presence the first Prime Minster of Israel for the last 2,000 years fills us with joy and exuberance."

Rabbi David B. Kahane was unafraid to express his personal views in his sermons.  On May 26, 1951, he lambasted the United Nations Security Council's ordering Israel to stop draining swamps for new housing.  He said the orders "insult the Jewish heroes of Israel, but also brings shame and humiliation to the United Nations."  And in March 1956, he addressed racism in America:

The racial problem is an issue out of which Civil War has been made in our country and a mis-handling of this matter can split our nation irreparably asunder.  President Eisenhower must immediately assume firm leadership by summoning religious, educational and political leaders from all races to a White House racial conference and must categorically assert that all debate about segregation must accept the premise of law and order.

In 1961, serious discussions about replacing the old building were taking place.  That year, architect S. Brian Baylinson filed plans for a six-story synagogue that would cost Congregation Beth Hamedrash Hachodosh Talmud Torah the equivalent of $3.2 million today.  It did not get built.

Five years later, the architectural firm of Kavy & Kovovitt designed a five-story synagogue that would cost the equivalent of $7.4 million to build.  That, too, did not come to pass.

Then, in 1969, James E. Ware's somewhat quirky but lovable 1888 structure was demolished.  The congregation worshipped at 224 East 52nd Street during the construction of their new home.  Designed by Herbert Fleischer Associates, the two-story Sutton Place Synagogue was consecrated on September 22, 1974.

photograph by ajay_suresh

William Jose's 1871 162 Stanton Street

photograph by Carole Teller

William Jose was born in Prussia around 1843 and was first listed as an architect in New York City directories in 1869.  In his short career he would design numerous buildings, mostly in the Bowery neighborhood, before his death in 1885.  In November 1870, he filed plans for a five-story "brick store and tenement" at 158 Stanton Street for developer G. Bohm.  That project quickly expanded with two more abutting buildings at Nos. 160 and 162.

The 25-foot-wide structures were completed in 1871.  Like its identical neighbors, 162 Stanton Street was faced in red brick above a cast iron storefront.  Jose's Italianate design included molded lintels above the elliptically arched windows.  The ambitious cast metal cornice lined with foliate brackets was upheld by elaborately scrolled corbels.  Delicate akroteria perched on its corners.  The arched pediment with its half-round panel was a trademark William Jose touch.  Similar pediments can be seen in his 1873 5 Spring Street and the Conrad Stein brewery building, completed in 1883.  

photograph by Carole Teller

Two stores flanked the residential entrance.  The initial occupants were Sigmund Blum's "segar" store and Adamina Kuyper's candy and soda shop.  (Adamina was the widow of Joseph Kuyper.)

Adamina Kuyper closed her store in 1876.  An auction of the contents gives a hint of her Victorian shop.  The auctioneer listed:

Contents of a Candy Store: counters and shelving, showcases, jars, tables, chairs, stoves &c; also one large marble Soda Water Fountain.

Frederick Hausmann purchased the lot and continued to operate the candy and soda shop.  By then, George Bergen was running the cigar store.  The tenants upstairs were, for the most part, working class.  Living here in 1876 were Christopher Bingenheimer, a barber; "spinner" John Harer; and the Hefner and Niglutsch families.  John Hefner did not list a profession in directories, possibly because he was retired.  Frederick Hefner, likely his son, was a clerk.  John C. Niglutsch was a physician and Anthony Niglutsch worked as a tailor.

Kate Stern left 162 Stanton Street on the morning of November 12, 1893.  She had not gotten far when two crooks grabbed her pocketbook and ran.  A policeman overtook them on Stanton Street.  The youthful perpetrators--Morris Wilbur was nine years old and Burnett Ernstein was eleven--were held at the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children until appearing before a magistrate in Essex Market Court.

Samuel Michaelson's tailor shop occupied one of the storefronts at the turn of the century.  On the night of November 9, 1900, the clothing store of Max Stumpf on Attorney Street was "ransacked," as worded by The New York Times.  The burglars essentially emptied the shop, taking "101 ladies' finished capes, 21 ladies' unfinished capes, 22 men's coats, 1 vest, 36 boys' caps, 10 flannel shirts, 1 roll chinchilla cloth, 1 roll black cloth, 1 roll brown cloth, 1 roll velvet cloth, 5 pieces trouserings, and 1 bag fur edging," according to Stumpf's detailed inventory.

Two days later, Max Stumpf rushed up to two police officers and excitedly said that he saw some of his goods in an express wagon.  The officers followed it to 139 Attorney Street where the driver delivered the goods to Harris Needle in a second floor room.  He and the driver, Samuel Pepper, were arrested.  At the station house they said that they were paid "to deliver the goods by Samuel Michaelson."  Michaelson was also subsequently arrested.  The New York Times reported, "He denied that he knew anything about the goods.  He also denied that he had ever seen Needle or Pepper."

The Rappaport family lived in a top floor apartment around the same time.  In the hot summer months, tenement dwellers often slept on the fire escapes.  On the night of August 23, 1901, Mrs. Rappaport put two of her children, Bessie and Israel, to bed on the fire escape.  Her six-year-old son, Samuel (known as Sammy), slept with her that night.  Samuel woke up around 6:00 the next morning and told his mother, "I'm going to wake Bessie."

The Evening World reported that the three children began playing on the fire escape and "Sammy climbed up a board leaning against the railing.  He lost his balance, tumbled over the railing and fell the entire six [sic] stories to the street."

When Bessie screamed, her mother rushed to the window.  Looking down, she saw Sammy "lying in a broken, lifeless heap on the pavement, far below, with two men over him."  Frantic, Mrs. Rappaport ran down to the street just as the boy was being carried into a drugstore.  "His back was broken and his skull crushed from striking against the iron rails as he fell," said the article.  Adding to the tragedy, the boy's plunge was witnessed by dozens of children.  "Most of them knew him and wept at the shocking death of their little playmate," said The Evening World.

John M. Robbins, who lived here in 1906, worked as a  "telegrapher."  On the night of August 26 that year, he sat down at a table in the restaurant in Pennsylvania Railroad terminal in Jersey City.  For whatever reason, the 55-year-old started a near panic.  The New York Herald reported, "a stifled scream from one of forty women dining in the restaurant" was heard at about 8:00.  "The cause of the scream was an elderly man calmly removing his underclothing," said the article, which added, "After one look the women concealed their faces behind fans and handkerchiefs."

A group of men surrounded Robbins and helped him get dressed.  The New York Herald said, "He was profuse in his apologies and was allowed to remain and finish his meal."  But only ten minutes later, he "cunningly removed his shoes and coat, and was divesting himself of his trousers when another woman raised an alarm."  This time two railroad detectives covered him with a tablecloth and escorted him to an anteroom where he was dressed and arrested.

In 1916, New York City suffered a terrifying epidemic--poliomyelitis.  More than 9,000 cases were reported in the city that year and more than 2,000 victims died.  On August 20, the New York Herald headlined an article, "Keep Children Out of City Is Warning."  In it, Dr. John S. Billings cautioned New Yorkers to keep their children at their country homes rather then returning to the city.  That was not an option for tenement families.  Listed among the hundreds of new cases in the article were Izzie and Abe Schivalatt of 162 Stanton Street.

The Hyman Richmond family lived here at the time.  They invited eight guests to a Shabbat meal on March 3.  The evening would not end well.  The New-York Tribune reported, "the eight guests fell from their chairs suffering from ptomaine poisoning, too ill to be moved to their homes."  An ambulance arrived and the victims "were all put to bed in corners of Richmond's apartment except Frank Ruhlau."  He was seriously ill and taken to Gouverneur Hospital.  Tragically, the next day the New-York Tribune reported, "The seven other guests were still under care of physicians at the scene of the kosher dinner, when news was brought to them early this morning that Ruhlau had died."

At the time of the tragedy, the stores were occupied by Louis Kravitz's clothing shop and Morris H. Schlesinger's hardware store.

On the evening of September 12, 1922, 70-year-old resident Henry Lawrence left 162 Stanton Street "to visit friends in Rivington Street," as reported by The Evening World three days later, adding, "He has not returned home."  That friend was Solomon Sternberg.  He told a reporter from the New York Herald that Lawrence had $200 when he left his apartment.  The Evening World was pointed, saying, "There is a suspicion of murder in the case of Henry Lawrence."  (Newspapers did not follow up with the story, so Lawrence's fate is unclear.)

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

On October 1, 1958, Nelson A. Rockefeller took his campaign for Governor to the Lower East Side.  He stopped into Jack Levy's Famous, a hot dog and pizza stand, chatted in Spanish to Puerto Rican locals, and shook hands and greeted pedestrians.  One of those was Mila Litbach, who lived at 162 Stanton Street.  The New York Times described her as "an elderly woman with a kerchief on her head."  Rockefeller greeted, "Hello!"

Unimpressed, Mila Litbach responded, "Can I put 'hello' in the bank?"

She told him she could not find a suitable apartment at a rent she could afford.  Rockefeller said "That is a very serious problem," and told her about a bond issue.  "If we can get that passed, it will help relieve the shortage of apartments for elderly people who live alone like you."

"I should live so long," said Mila Litbach with a shrug as she walked away.

The building was renovated in 1985, resulting in a total of 11 apartments.  In the alterations, the brick was painted and the storefront removed to accommodate apartments.  Surviving at the otherwise featureless ground floor are two narrow cast iron pilasters and a delicate rope detail around the entrance way.

photograph by Carole Teller

many thanks to artist Carole Teller for suggesting this post

Buchman & Kahn's 1925 49 West 38th Street

 photograph by Carole Teller

By the post-World War I years, the millinery district had migrated northward to the neighborhood around Sixth Avenue in the 30s.  In 1923, Wolf Ramzon hired well-known architects Buchman & Kahn to design a 16-story "fireproof manufacturing building" at 49 through 53 West 38th Street.  Completed in 1925, construction cost Ramzon the equivalent of $8.2 million in 2026.

Buchman & Kahn started with a Renaissance Revival-style canvas and embellished it with elaborate terra cotta decorations.  Above the storefront, vast openings sat within metal inlay.  A series of closely placed, tall and narrow windows filled the second floor, and three side-by-side stylized Chicago windows engulfed the third.  All three lower floors sat within an intricate, Celtic inspired frame.

An intermediate cornice introduced the upper section.  Against a dragon scale background, the corbels took the form of whimsical faces.  The complex terra cotta decorations of the fourth floor included Celtic knots and plaques of fantastic animals and bearded faces.

The architects gave the corbels of the intermediate cornice delightful personalities.  photograph by Carole Teller

The upper floors were faced in beige brick.  The mid-section was defined by two six-story, faceted terra cotta columns.  An arcade with blind tympana distinguished the eleventh floor and multi-level cornices supported the upper section.

Expectedly, most of the original tenants were from the millinery industry.  Among them were the Beverly Hat Company, Inc., Trucikan Hat Company, Ideal Hat Co., the Rite-Hat Works, and I. Rosenberg & Co., Inc.  The Ideal Hat Co. had barely moved in before it was looking for an office worker.  An advertisement in The New York Times on September 16, 1925 read, "Young girl in advertising department of millinery manufacturer; typewriting experience essential."

In 1929, Trucikan Hat Company reorganized as Fairway Hat Company.  In doing so, it trimmed its staff, reducing the amount of hat blockers from eight to four.  The executives met with the on-site head of the union, named Mendelowitz, to decide which employees would be kept and whom would be fired.  In the meantime, the union members held their own meeting and drew straws.  The outcome did not mesh with the list Mendelowitz and management had come up with.  A stand-off resulted in a strike and an attempt to oust Mendelowitz by union members, who accused him of "a complicated maneuver and sell out," as reported by The Daily Worker on December 10, 1929.  

Extraordinarily intricate terra cotta decorates the facade.  photograph by Carole Teller

Two months later a strike against the Bobby Hood Company, Inc. turned violent.  On February 7, 1930, The New York Times reported, "Negro strikebreakers armed with lead pipes, shears and hammers engaged at 6 o'clock last night in a street brawl with pickets of the Millinery Workers' Union...who were marching in front of the Bobby Hood Company, Inc., at 49 West Thirty-eighth Street, where the strike-breakers were employed."  The article said that crowds heading to the subway were halted by the disturbance, "which soon became a free-for-all."  

It took police an hour to quell the riot that resulted in dozens suffering bruises and cuts.  Five persons were arrested on charges of felonious assault.  Somehow Samuel Goodkind, the owner of the Bobby Hood Company, had gotten involved.  The New York Evening Post reported that he was arrested for disorderly conduct.

photograph by Carole Teller

At the time of the affray, a delicatessen occupied the ground floor space.  On February 28, 1930, two armed men entered and subdued the manager, Ernest Roebke, who was bound and gagged.  The crooks stole $73 from the cash register and then jumped onto an uptown subway headed to to their next target, a deli on Columbus Avenue.  This time they were less successful.  A passerby noticed the hold-up and called police.  Patrolman Shallo and Farro arrived just as the thieves were leaving.  Ricardo Angeli warned them, "stand back or I'll plug you."  The New York Sun reported that the cops "paid no attention to his command and leaped toward him, Shallo felling the raider with a blow of his nightstick."  Angeli was arrested ("after treatment by an ambulance surgeon," according to the article), but his accomplice escaped.

The building continued to attract millinery firms during the Depression years.  The Moran Hat Company leased the 16th floor in 1932 and the Maecon Hat Company was here as early as 1937.  But textile and apparel firms were appearing, as well.  The Modern Miltex Company was here in 1944, for instance, when it advertised, "Hand Crocheters.  Good pay, full or part time."

Among the tenants in the 1960s were Don Sophisticates, Inc., Merchants Importing, Inc. and Sheru, dealers in beads.  At the time, the country was experiencing The Age of Aquarius, marked by hippies, free love, and anti-war protests--and beads.  For a century, bead companies catered to apparel and millinery firms.  Now Sheru was a popular destination for individual customers.  Writing in The New York Times on August 31, 1975, Judmi Glassman listed a few of their uses: "making belts, headbands, window hangings, room dividers and purses."  She informed readers that "larger beads are sold by the dozen, en masse (about 1,000 beads) or individually" at Sheru.

Decades later, on August 13, 1993, The New York Times reported that Steve Sherwin, a partner in Sheru, had exhumed cartons "stored since the 1960s" and "started selling off the cache."  The article said, "Among the store's 3,000 kinds of beads are red cherries, crimson strawberries and purple grapes made of glass."

photograph by Carole Teller

The ground floor space where Ernest Roebke was bound and gagged in 1930 became the Dineen Nealy showroom around 2002.  It featured furniture designed by architects Craig Nealy and Joan Dineen.  More recently, Pink of Manhattan, a nail salon, moved into the space.  Although the storefront has been modernized, Buchman & Kahn's striking structure is almost untouched a century after its opening.

many thanks to artist Carole Teller for suggesting this post

The 1924 J. Henry Lancashire Mansion - 11 East 69th Street

 

image via friends-ues.org

Banker Jefferson Seligman and his wife, the former Julia Wormser, occupied a townhouse at 11 East 69th Street and a country home in Deal, New Jersey in the first years of the 20th century.  The couple shocked society in 1915 when Julia filed for divorce, her attorneys asserting, "her husband left her on May 31, 1913, and has never returned."  Julia retained possession of the homes in the divorce.  She died in the New Jersey residence on March 28, 1921, leaving an estate equal to more than $18 million in 2026.

When the East 69th Street property became available in December 1922, Edwin C. Jameson, who lived next door at 9 East 69th Street, purchased it "to protect his own home," according to The New York Times.  He resold it in February 1923 to James Henry Lancashire and his wife, the former Sarah Hale Wright.  The New York Times reported that they "will remove the present structure entirely and build a new fire-proof house for [their] own occupation from designs by Delano & Aldrich."  The article added, "This promises to be one of the most attractive modern residences on Lenox Hill."

Construction of the 32-foot-wide mansion was completed in 1924 at a cost of $200,000 (about $3.8 million today).  Faced in limestone, its sedate neo-French Classic design included a rusticated base where the double-doored entrance sat within an understated, molded frame.  At the second floor, or piano nobile, were floor-to-ceiling windows, the central of which was fronted by an iron balcony and capped with a triangular pediment.  The sixth floor sat discretely behind a stone parapet topped with Classical stone urns.  The New York Times remarked, "It is provided with two elevators and there is an attractive rear garden."

The Seligmans' house was a near match to No. 13, at the right.  photograph b y Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

Dr. James Henry Lancashire (who went by his first initial professionally), was born in Ontario, Canada on August 22, 1858.  Sarah Wright was born in Vermont on February 8, 1861 and the couple were married on October 4, 1883 in Saratoga Springs, New York.  They had three daughters: Harriet Wright, Helen and Lila.  (The others had died in childhood.)

Only Lila would live in the mansion.  Harriet had married Edward Lawrence White in 1911, and Helen, who married Vincent Umberto Coletti-Perucca in 1916, lived in Italy.  

The Lancashires filled the mansion with costly antiques and artwork.  The New York Times would later comment that Sarah's "collection of seventeenth and eighteen century English furniture" included "twelve William and Mary carved walnut tall-back side chairs."  They were executed by Daniel Marot in 1695.  Other items within the residence were a Chinese Chippendale mahogany card table and a Sheraton mahogany dining table.

This portrait of Sarah Lancashire was painted by Ignaz Marcel Gaugengigl in 1910.  from the collection of the Museum of Fine Arts Boston

The family's country home, Graftonwood, was in Manchester, Massachusetts.  On June 12, 1925, The New York Times reported that Lancashire "and his daughter, Miss Lila Lancashire, have closed their home at 11 East Sixty-ninth Street and have gone to their Summer home at Manchester-by-the Sea."  The article explained, "Mrs. Lancashire, who is visiting her daughter, Mme. Colette-Perucca, in Florence Italy, is expected to return early in July."  In fact, Sarah was accompanied by Helen upon her return.  On July 2, The Saratogian reported, "Mrs. J. Henry Lancashire...and her daughter, Mme. Umberto Coletti-Perucca, arrived from Europe on the Giulio Cesare and are at the Ritz-Carlton.  They are leaving on Friday for Graftonwood."

On January 11, 1927, The New York Times reported that the Lancashires had announced Lila's engagement to Chicago banker Richard Southgate, noting, "Miss Lancashire attended the Spence School, and is a member of the Junior League and a director of the Navy Club."

Lila's marriage took place in the Church of the Resurrection on June 1, 1927.  The New York Times explained, "Relatives and a few close friends only have been asked to the ceremony owing to the limited capacity of the church, but the invitations to the reception at the home of the bride's parents, 11 East Sixty-ninth Street, are more general."  The next evening, the Lancashirers hosted a dinner and dance at the Park Lane for the wedding party.

Now empty nesters, Lancashires continued to appear in the society columns.  On January 31, 1928, for instance, The New York Times announced, "Dr. and Mrs. J. Henry Lancashire of 11 East Sixty-ninth Street, with a party of friends, will leave to day for Nassau, later going to Palm Beach for the remainder of the Winter."

On April 21, 1931, the newspaper reported that the Lancashires had sold 11 East 69th Street to Mrs. Barend van Gerbig for "very close" to the asking price of $400,000 (about $8.5 million today).  

Mrs. Barend van Gerbig was the former Edith Olcott.  Her husband was born in the Netherlands in 1868 and arrived in American in 1890.  Educated at the University of Leyden, Barend van Gerbig was an investment broker and musician.  He was 32 years old when he and Edith were married on May 25, 1900.  The couple had a son, Howell.  (Their first son, Dudley, died in 1915.)  The family's country home was in New Canaan, Connecticut.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Edith Olcott van Gerbig began collecting Early American glass at the age of 13.  Displayed in the East 69th Street mansion was her collection of nearly 3,000 pieces.  She was recognized nationally as "an assiduous collector as well as a knowledgeable scholar of American glass," according to the Worcester Telegram.

Edith Olcott van Gerbig died at the age of 83 in the New Canaan residence on July 15, 1953.  Barend died there on December 3, 1957.  Three months earlier, he had donated Edith's entire glass collection to the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art in Hartford, Connecticut.  He, additionally, donated a $250,000 endowment "for the construction of an 'Edith Olcott van Gerbig Memorial Gallery of Glass' within the contemplated alterations of the Wadsworth Atheneum buildings," reported The Morning Union on September 1, 1957.

No. 11 East 69th Street became headquarters for the American Friends of the Hebrew University.  It was the scene of an exciting announcement on October 31, 1961.  Here Yigael Yadin, Professor of Archaeology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, announced the discovery of "First-century documents found in remote caves along the western shore of the Dead Sea."  He described their finding "as the most important discovery of the period next to the Dead Sea Scrolls."

Two years later, the American Friends of the Hebrew University presented its Woman of the Year Award to Golda Meir, Foreign Minister of Israel.  The large attendance at the luncheon made holding it in the former mansion impossible.  The award was presented to Mrs. Meir at the New York Hilton.

A poignant event took place here on March 11, 1976.  The New York Times reported, "The memory of the 11 Israelis murdered during the 1972 Olympics at Munich was revived...with the establishment of the first memorial to the athletes."  The memorial took the form of scholarships to the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. 

In 2004, real-estate operator David Levinson purchased 11 East 69th Street from the American Friends of the Hebrew University for $9.5 million.  According to The Real Deal, he spent $20 million in renovations to return it to a private mansion, with "six bedrooms, ten bathrooms, and a rooftop solarium."

image via streeteasy.com

Levinson sold the residence in June 2021 for $53.5 million.  The exterior is sheathed with scaffolding and netting at the time of this writing.

photographs by the author

Schwartz & Gross's 1929 175 East 79th Street

 

On April 3, 1928, the architectural firm of Schwartz & Gross filed plans for "a fifteen-story and pent-house apartment building" at 171 through 175 East 79th Street.  The New York Sun reported, "The building will have four apartments on each floor in three-room and bath and six-room and three-bath suites."  The New York Times added that the structure would be erected by the Tishman Realty and Construction Company, Inc.

Construction was completed in 1929 at a cost of $480,000--or about $9 million in 2026 terms.  Faced in rough-faced brick, the neo-Renaissance-style structure was trimmed in brownstone and terra cotta.  The entrance and the pilasters of the paired third-floor windows were decorated with intricate Renaissance-style designs.  The first- and second-floor openings were framed by brownstone quoins (painted white today).  Schwartz & Gross's treatment of the first floor voussoirs was highly unusual--alternating from brick to brownstone.

The edifice rose as a sheer cliff, relieved by terra cotta bandcourses; those below the fourth and sixteenth floors supported by arched, brick corbel tables.  Vast multi-paned casements flooded the apartments with natural light.

At least one critic had a slight problem with the new building.  On March 9, 1929, Marcia Clarke Davenport wrote in The New Yorker:

The Tishman organization, whose architects are Schwartz & Gross, has put up a good building at 175 East Seventy-ninth Street. It includes all the features I have always admired in this company’s work, but—every bedroom in the house must be reached through a living-room or a dining-room. That there has been a pardonable desire to save space is obvious; nevertheless, the result is unfortunate. This isn’t a hotel or a pied-a-terre sort of place; it’s a house people are meant to live in, as is proved by the excellent kitchens and pantries, comfortable dining-rooms, the ample baths and closets, the wood-burning fireplaces, the maids’ rooms and baths, and the well-handled ventilation and lighting.

Among the initial tenants were Charles H. Adams and his wife, the former Harriet Beachman.  The couple had an adult son, Charles Jr.  Harriet escaped the cold of their first winter here by traveling to Florida with friends, Edward E. Wright and his wife.  They headed home, leaving Florida on March 2, 1930 in the Wright's touring car, which was driven by their chauffeur.  About 16 miles south of Lyons, Georgia, B. Collins attempted to go around a parked Standard Oil Company truck.  He drove head-on into the Wright's vehicle "with a terrific impact," according to The International Blue Printer.  Beatrice and Mrs. Wright were killed.

On October 26, 1930, Alfred N. Wheeler Jr. signed a lease "for a long term of years," as reported by the New York Evening Post.  He was the son of prominent Connecticut jurist Alfred N. Wheeler.  And he had a very good reason to be looking for a new apartment.  

Five days later, The New York Times reported, "Miss Romaine Bristow...will be married to Alfred N. Wheeler Jr., of this city, son of Alfred N. Wheeler of New Haven, Conn., on Nov. 25 in the Church of the Resurrection."  Romaine was well-known in society.  The newspaper noted that she was the granddaughter of Columbus C. Baldwin, "who was identified for many years with New York and Newport [society]."

The ceremony was covered by society columns in newspapers in several states.  On October 31, the New York Evening Post noted, "Mr. Wheeler and his bride will live at 175 East Seventy-ninth Street when they return from their wedding trip."

Alfred Wheeler wore tails and silk top hat to his wedding.  The New York Times, November 26, 1930

Morton E. Van Raalte and his wife, the former Marion Rau, also signed a lease in 1930.  Born in 1898, Van Raalte was the son of wealthy manufacturer Emanuel Van Raalte and a 1920 graduate of Columbia College.  When they moved into 175 East 79th Street, he was affiliated with his father's firm, the Van Raalte Company.

Shortly after the couple moved in, Emanuel Van Raalte died, leaving an estate of $1,355,674, according to The New York Times.  The figure would translate about $26 million today.  The newspaper said that the bulk of the estate would be divided equally among Morton and his three siblings.  Morton and Marion Van Raalte's country home was in Lawrence, Long Island.

Already living here were Rene de Albornoz Carrillo and his son Rene Jr.  Carrillo was, according to The New York Times, a "member of an old Spanish family."  Twice married and twice divorced, the elder Carrillo was the head of the importing and interior decorating firm, R. Carrillo & Co., Inc.  His daughter was married in 1924, and Rene Jr. graduated from Princeton University in 1930 and joined his father's business.

The 55-year-old Carrillo suffered from "high-blood pressure and a nervous disorder," according to the New York Evening Post.  On the evening of December 9, 1931 the father and son played cards.  During the game, the elder Carrillo "discussed business affairs with his son," reported The New York Times, and mentioned that he wanted to bring an acquaintance into the business.  He told his son that he wanted to make his vision of the company clear, "in case I die."

The next morning, Rene Jr. arose at around 9:00.  He found his father, "dressed only in his pajamas...slumped down in a chair in his bedroom with a bullet wound in the right temple."

A note left on the bureau read:

Dear Rene:

I hate to do this, but I cannot stand this strain any longer.  Would put N. W. in the business and carry out our plan of yesterday.  Tell him to remember the letter I spoke to him about.  It's in the safe.  Good-bye to you and all that I care for.  It's hard to leave you all.

                                                            Love, Father

On 16, October 1936, The New York Times reported, "Don Ross and his wife, Jane Froman, both of stage and screen, have leased a penthouse at 175 East Seventy-ninth Street."  Born in 1907, Jane Froman studied voice at the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music until 1930.  She made her national debut on radio in 1929, the year she met vaudeville performer Donald McKaig Ross.  They were married in 1933 and moved to New York City that year.

Don Ross and Jane Froman in the early 1940s.  from the collection of the Jane Froman Papers

Jane joined the Ziegfeld Follies where she became friends with Fannie Brice.  Reportedly, when composer and producer Billy Rose was asked to name the top ten female singers, he replied, "Jane Froman and nine others."  By 1934, Jane was the "number-one female singer on the radio," according to a nationwide poll.

When the couple moved in, Jane had completed two films, the 1933 Kissing Time and the 1935 Stars Over Broadway.  They established their own radio program in July 1937.

Unfortunately, while Froman's career soared, Ross's did not.  They were divorced in 1948, five years after Froman was severely injured in an airplane crash on February 22, 1943 as she was traveling to entertain troops.

Resident Lewis Osborn was described by The New York Times as a "well-known bridge player and Wall Street customers' man."  He and his wife, the former Florence Fitch, were married in 1933 and occupied a three-room apartment on the eighth floor in 1939.  Florence was equally involved in bridge.  She wrote newspaper and magazine articles on the game and the two operated bridge clubs in New London, Connecticut.

Born in 1907, Osborn worked for the brokerage firm of Francis I. du Pont & Co.  He was scheduled to play in the Eastern bridge championships starting on February 19, 1939, but he asked a fellow player to find a substitute for him.  He said that business "would prevent his participating."

But in fact, Osborn was having domestic problems.  Florence had left their apartment on February 16 and had not come home.  At 4:00 on the morning of February 22, a neighbor complained about the odor of gas.  The handyman, James Findlay, discovered a small leak on the ninth floor, and repaired it.  A much larger problem, however, was in the Osborn apartment.

At 9:05, Findlay broke into the Osborn apartment to find the kitchen filled with gas fumes.  Unthinking, he flicked on the light switch and the spark caused an explosion "that shattered the kitchen window, smashed the dishes and rocked the other rooms in the apartment," reported The New York Times.  Findlay was knocked to the floor, but was otherwise uninjured.

Lewis Osborn's body was on the kitchen floor.  The New York Times reported that he had "turned on all of the five jets of the kitchen range and sealed the room with adhesive tape."  He left two notes: one that gave funeral directions, the other addressed to Florence.  That one said he was "taking this way out" so she could have her freedom.

Close inspection of the carved entrance reveals a Jazz Age take on Renaissance designs.  Here a very 1920s nymph hides in twining vines.

Pincus and Anne Berner occupied an apartment here by the outbreak of World War II.  Born in 1899, Berner was a member of the law firm of Ernst, Can, Berner & Gitlin, whose clients were mostly from the entertainment and literary fields.  Pincus Berner was the personal attorney to the likes of Sinclair Lewis, Ayn Rand, Christopher Morley, Thomas Wolfe, William Saroyan, and Harold Robbins.  He was the co-executor of Thomas Wolfe's estate.

The population of the Berner apartment was temporarily increased by one during World War II.  A program evacuated children from bomb ravaged Britain and placed them into American homes.  The Berners took in Robert Gilders.  As Christmas neared in 1945, a British-American broadcast reunited some of the youths and their American foster families.  Robert Gilders, now a teen, lamented that he had been unsuccessful in converting his friends to baseball.  "It's no use," he said.

In 1960, Edgar I. Levy and Howard W. Woolf purchased 175 East 79th Street.  They quickly resold it to their tenants, who had formed the 175 East Seventy-ninth Tenants Corporation.  On November 11, 1960, The New York Times reported that the association "plans to remodel the house and operate it as a cooperative," noting, "It has fifty-six apartments and two penthouse suites."

Among the first owners were the Francesco A. Zara family.  Born in 1889, Zara, an associate vice president with the National City Bank of New York, married Mildred Gautier Rice on November 19, 1953.  Their country home was in Southampton, Long Island.  

On Saturday night, September 8, 1962, the Zaras had either returned to Manhattan for the winter season or were out.  In either case, The New York Times reported that while the two maids were sleeping, burglars entered the Southampton residence and "ransacked the house."  The thieves slinked away with jewelry worth the equivalent of $638,000 today.

Well-known television actress Melba Rae and her husband Gilbert Shawn, lived here following the conversion.  Shawn had been in radio and he helped get Melba her role in the Broadway play Janie.  She was, by now, known nationwide as Marge Bergman on the soap opera Search for Tomorrow.  Melba Rae died of a cerebral hemorrhage in December 1971 at the age of 49.

Gilbert Shawn and Melba Rae.  (original source unknown)

Resident Kenneth Gallant, a bachelor, occupied a 15th-floor apartment in the early 1970s.  When his friends could not contact him for several days in late December 1974, they went to his apartment on New Year's Day 1975.  When they got no answer, they asked the superintendent to check his apartment.  What Harold Beland discovered was horrific.  

The New York Times reported that he found Gallant's nude body in the bedroom "with an electrical cord around his neck."  Police said there were no signs of a break-in or robbery, adding, "the cause of death appeared to be strangulation."

It was possibly during the facade renovation in 2015 that the stonework of the first and second floors was painted.  Sadly, the coop board did not step in when several owners replaced the 1928 casements, so vital to Schwartz & Gross's design, with myriad, unsympathetic substitutes.  (Snap-in muntins would have given the appearance of the original casements.)

photographs by the author