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| A 1905 postcard pictured the newly-completed club. |
Further down the avenue a troublesome trend had caught the
attention of the millionaire family: the invasion of commerce. Six years earlier William Waldorf Astor had
demolished his father’s mansion at the corner of 33rd Street to
erect the hulking Waldorf Hotel.
Already, in the blocks just below, grand residences were either being
razed or converted to commercial structures.
When the Orphan Asylum decided to relocate and the full
block of valuable real estate was put on the market, George W. Vanderbilt went
into motion, snatching up lots to prevent businesses from intruding on the exclusive
residential neighborhood. Vanderbilt
did not need to worry about five of the lots, however. On December 21, 1899 the exclusive Union Club
announced its intentions to purchase the three lots facing 5th
Avenue at the corner of 51st Street, and the two adjoining lots
behind.
After nearly half a century in a grand mansion at the corner
of 5th Avenue and 21st Street, club members had become
dissatisfied with the changes in the once-exclusively residential
neighborhood. In announcing the
contemplated purchase a New York Times headline read, “Union Club Goes Up Town.”
Steeped in tradition, the Union Club was not only the oldest
but the most exclusive men’s social club in New York. Founded in 1836 at No. 343 Broadway, it moved
northward rather quickly—to No. 376 Broadway in 1842 and to No. 691 Broadway in
1850. When the club moved into its quarters at the
northwest corner of 5th Avenue and 21st Street in April,
1855, members felt they had a permanent home.
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| The Union Club's home at 5th Avenue and 21st Street was a large, impressive mansion. -- NYPL Collection |
A month after announcing interest in relocating, the
contracts were signed. On January 18,
1900 the club agreed to the $700,000 price of the land—about $16 million by
today’s standards. A competition
among the architect members of the Union Club was initiated for the design of
the new clubhouse. Crusty older members,
rooted in tradition and uncomfortable with change, insisted that the old
mansion at 21st Street be replicated.
“It was generally known that the older
members strongly favored a duplication of the Twenty-first Street house,” reported
The Times, “where they had felt at home for years, and that any marked
departure from the general plan of the old structure would meet with their
opposition.”
But even these powerful and wealthy men would not get their
way. “The environment of the new site,
however,” said the article “was not considered suitable for a new clubhouse
similar to the old one.”
Nevertheless, the plans fell into two categories: a variation of the old clubhouse with changes
made to the proportions to fit the new lot; and new, up-to-date designs with no
nod at all to the old structure. In the
end the Building Committee was deadlocked on its decision between two plans. One was a near-match of the old house, the
other an Italian Renaissance palazzo.
To break the tie, a disinterested party was called in. Charles F. McKim, of the esteemed
architectural firm McKim, Mead & White, was not a member of the Union
Club. He was shown the two plans and
asked to make a judgment. He was clear
in his preference. He chose the
duplication of the old house.
“Mr. McKim stated that there were faults of the plan which
must be amended to make the structure suitable for its intended uses; but that
its exterior was faultless,” reported The Times.
Astoundingly, however, the Building Committee discarded his
report and chose the palazzo design.
McKim told reporters later “But my recommendations were not followed.” On March 23, 1901 The Engineering Record
noted “Plans have been filed by Cass Gilbert and John Du Fais, architects, for
the Union Club’s new building to be erected on 5th Avenue and 51st
Street to cost about $450,000.”
Who, exactly, was responsible for the design is
unclear. Cass Gilbert is widely given
credit; however upon the death of Du Fais in 1935 The Times gave him full
credit for the structure. Whichever
architect was responsible—or perhaps it was a joint effort—the result was a
dignified brick and limestone clubhouse that reflected the wealth and propriety
of its members.
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| At the far end of the block stands the Morton Plant mansion (later Cartier jewelers) and in between sit the twin marble mansions built by George Vanderbilt -- photo NYPL Collectio |
In the meantime, the block filled with mansions. In 1901 John T. Farley began building a house
“of the highest class” abutting the Union Club on 51st Street. A year later the magnificent home of Morton F. Plant would rise at the opposite corner, at 52nd Street. And in between George Vanderbilt erected two
matching white marble houses. The New York Times
remarked that the new homes were “built by the family in an effort to keep
business away from their front doors.”
From the moment the millionaire members walked through the
front door of the new clubhouse, however, they were dissatisfied. The lots had been chosen primarily for the
location across from the Cathedral. The
committee had envisioned grand vistas down 5th Avenue from the
windows of the lounges or club rooms for the members. Instead, the gentlemen had a view of the
alley.
Charles McKim, no doubt feeling a bit of retribution, chimed
in. “No one denies that the Union Club
is a monumental structure of symmetrical dignity. But equally no one who knows attempts to deny
that the interior is decidedly faulty.”
The first floor facing the Cathedral was devoted to “the
entrance, a strangers’ room, coatrooms, a cab stand, and the office,” he
noted. The window of the lounging room
where the members sat in leather chairs, smoked cigars and discussed business
faced a ten-foot alley.
“So far as they will commit themselves,” reported The Times,
“the members seem to agree generally that the most important feature of the
building, its potential view down Fifth Avenue, has been spoiled by the
existing arrangement.” Some members
fought for an additional appropriation of funds to completely reconfigure the
interiors.
Eventually the members became used to the new clubhouse and
talks of remodeling died off.
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| photo from the collection of the New York Public Library |
The Union Club prided itself on its exclusivity. The
Evening World reported that the club “is the most exclusive in the city. It is the club in which proud and happy
fathers of the aristocracy enter their sons for prospective membership when the
sons are but a few hours—or, in some instances, it is said—a few minutes
old. The large membership is made up of
the males of the most exclusive of the wealthy families of New York controlling
the social run of affairs.”
Names of potential new
members were presented by existing members.
Stringent investigation was conducted and voting was held. Membership was limited to no more than
1,500. Upon acceptance a membership fee
of $300 was paid and annual dues of $75 were due every May 1st.
The male-only stronghold hired only men to work in positions
visible to the members—doormen, coat check attendants, waiters and butlers, for
instance. The few women who were
employed at the clubhouse worked in the kitchens or cleaned the rooms when
members were not around.
One of these was Annie O’Connell. On the night of February 19, 1905 the 45-year
old woman approached the clubhouse around midnight to report to work. Lurking
in the shadows was 21-year old Paul Heil who was quite drunk and mistook the
Union Club for one of the great mansions of the neighborhood. When Annie O’Connell stepped towards the
entrance, he grabbed her around the throat and attempted to throw her to the
ground. He had chosen the wrong victim,
however.
The New York Times reported “She is strong and plucky.” After struggling for a few minutes, the Irishwoman was
able to force his hands from her throat and screamed.
Fifth Avenue was lined with coachmen sitting in the
carriages of club members awaiting their owners. The drivers rushed to the sound of the
screams and, although Heil pretended to have a gun and threatened to shoot, they
overpowered the intended thief. Millionaires
in evening clothes rushed out into the cold February air to assist the woman.
Heil was arrested and Annie O’Connell, bearing the marks of
her attacker’s fingers on her throat, promised to appear in the Yorkville Court
in the morning to press charges. The
Times noted that “In dress and appearance the man seemed to be the laborer he
said he was.”
Wealth and pedigree were not enough to guarantee a candidate’s
acceptance into the Union Club. Hint of
scandal or a stain on one’s reputation would result in rejection. To avoid the embarrassment of rebuff, a hint
of the potential rejection would be leaked to the man to give him the
opportunity of recalling his nomination.
Such was the case with H. H. Rogers in 1912. The only son and chief heir of Henry
Huttleston Rogers, the Standard Oil financier, he had an impressive family
lineage. The Evening World reported on
April 27 that “there are many members who cannot boast of the family descent of
Mr. Rogers, which goes away back into the Puritan days in New England.”
The socially-popular young millionaire was also a captain in
the New York National Guard. His name
was presented for membership by several other members. “His friends in the Union Club could not
imagine any reason why he should not be an acceptable member and had no
hesitation in setting the machinery in motion looking to his election,”
reported The Evening World.
But then, the article continued, “Soon the machinery began
to creak. Then it came to a dead stop.”
Club etiquette demanded that no questions were asked
regarding why a candidate should be refused.
However Rogers had been involved in an ugly scandal in the Guard. When he and several other officers preferred
charges again Colonel George R. Dyer a Court of Inquiry investigated. Dyer was exonerated and the accusing officers
all transferred to different regiments; each one offering his apology to the
Colonel.
All except Captain Rogers.
The breach in military and social etiquette was too much for
the proper Union Club members and the socially eminent young man would not be
admitted.
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| A breach of etiquette would prevent the handsome millionaire Captain H. H. Rogers from being accepted as a member -- photo The Evening World April 27, 1912 (copyright expired) |
To the socialists and communists of the early 20th century, the Union Club represented wealth and capitalism. On June 23,
1916 a mob of thousands marched up 5th Avenue to protest outside the
clubhouse. The angry crowd “among whom
were many anarchists,” said The World, filled the street outside.
One unsympathetic club member stuck his head out of an open
window and shouted “Go back to work!” and commanded the mob to disperse. He quickly ducked back inside as a derby hat
flew past his head.
The inflamed crowd shouted back “Go back to work yourself!”
A patrolman called in a riot call to the precinct. The World reported that “while the club
members were peeping out the sides of their windows, expecting an attack in
force, the police reserves dashed into sight from the East 51st
Street station.”
In 1918 the club contributed to the war effort by making a
startling change. It hired women as
waitresses for the dining room. The
male waiters were now eligible for “war work.”
The New York Times reported that “The employment of women
has released from twelve to fifteen men for war work…As far as is known the
Union Club is the first uptown club to use waitresses in the dining room.” The article admitted that “It was said that the women are
proving satisfactory, and it is expected that other clubs will follow the
example of the Union Club.”
For members of the Union Club, wealth and social position
were essential. The threat of losing one’s
fortune and esteem were often too much to bear.
Member Otto Zurcher lived just down the block at No. 33 West
51st Street in January 1919.
Born in Switzerland, he had made his fortune in African and South
American sugar plantations. With the
war, however, he sustained heavy losses.
On the morning of January 14 he entered the library of the
Union Club and stabbed himself five times in the neck and twice below the heart
with a kitchen knife. A waiter
discovered the bleeding man on the floor.
Zurcher made motions asking for a pad and pencil. He wrote “Let them give me morphine. Let me die.
I want to die.”
Before the ambulance arrived, the former millionaire was
dead.
Throughout the war the Union Club flew the flags of the
country’s allies, France and England, alongside the American flag. A year after the end of the conflict, the
flags were still displayed. This caused
a problem in November 1920.
A mass was celebrated in St. Patrick’s Cathedral for the
deceased Lord Mayor of Cork, Terence MacSwiney.
Hundreds of members of Sinn Fein filled the cathedral and the British
flag caught their attention. Before long
5th Avenue was filled with angry Irishmen who pelted the building
with stones and bricks, shattering windows.
The flag was taken down and police dispersed the mob,
arresting several of the vandals. But
later Arthur W. Weeks, Chairman of the House Committee, arrived and ordered the
flags put back “as a matter of principle.”
Sinn Fein’s violent protest was balanced by another, more
peaceful one, soon thereafter. Shortly
after traffic resumed on 5th Avenue an automobile pulled up to the
curb by the clubhouse. General George
Robert Nivelle, at one time the Commander of the Legions of France, stepped
out. The soldier stood at attention and
saluted the flags of the United States, France and Britain.
“Whatever recollections the evidences of destruction at the
club aroused in the breast of the General were kept to himself, as he made no
comment, and, after one brief survey, the automobile sped on,” said The New
York Tribune.
By now the Vanderbilt family’s valiant attempts to keep
business out of the neighborhood had proved fruitless. The Times would later note “They finally
abandoned their efforts in 1910 when they came to the conclusion that their
stand was hopeless.”
George Vanderbilt’s twin marble mansions had been converted
to an art gallery and Morton Plant’s grand mansion was now the home of Cartier
jewelers. As it had done on 21st
Street, the Union Club decided to remove itself from the now-commercial
district.
On June 20, 1927 The New York Times reported that “the northward
course of trade along midtown Fifth Avenue is driving another landmark off the
famous thoroughfare. The Union Club is
to move from its present quarters at Fifty-first Street, deserting the avenue
already forsaken by the homes of many of the socially noteworthy.”
The Club had purchased land on Park Avenue at 69th
Street “which is in a strictly residential district” said the article. In 1933 the Union Club prepared to move
into its new headquarters. On May 29 a
farewell dinner was held, attended by 400 members. As the men sang “Auld Lang Syne” on the third
floor and the 22nd Regiment Band played, “the rooms and halls on the
ground floor were being stripped of some of the rugs and furnishings.”
Members pasted bids on the huge leather chairs and other
upholstered pieces they hoped to purchase as mementoes. One
member placed a $300 bid on the marble fountain at the foot of the staircase in
the entrance hall. Other historic pieces—portraits
of club presidents dating back to 1836, silver desk sets, candlesticks and a
seal—that had come from the 21st Street clubhouse were to be
transferred to the new building.
New Yorkers held their breath as the vacant Union Club was
threatened with demolition to save taxes.
Then in June it was announced that the Grand Central Art Galleries would
take over the building as its new home.
The gallery stayed on in the building for many years; but by 1944 it sat
empty.
Also vacant were the abutting marble mansion erected by
George Vanderbilt and John Farley’s residence on 51st Street . On May 4, 1944 The Times reported “The
imposing old Union Club building and the adjoining Vanderbilt mansion—landmarks
at the northeast corner of Fifth Avenue and Fifty-first Street opposite St.
Patrick’s Cathedral—will come down along with the house at 3 East Fifth-first
Street to make way for ‘an imposing edifice’ of undisclosed type which is expected
to be one of the major post-war projects of private enterprise in that district.”
That “imposing edifice” lasted until 1944 when it was demolished for the the 12-story Best Department Store. And that structure survived until 1971 when construction began on the 51-story
glass-and-steel Olympic Tower.
The soaring building makes it difficult to imagine a time when
millionaires alighted from carriages to enter an Italian palazzo surrounded by
the mansions of New York’s wealthiest citizens.
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| photo via www.corcoran.com |
Very interesting. Came here from a mention in a scene of this ridiculous symbol of human apartness and arrogance in Boardwalk Empire lol Fascinating history though!
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