The George Paulding House - 24 Charlton Street

 

In 1817 John Jacob Astor I took over the land lease of Aaron Burr's country estate, Richmond Hill, from Trinity Church.  Within a decade, he had leveled the land, laid out streets, and begun construction of scores of two-and-a-half story brick-faced homes.  Among them was 24 Charlton Street.  Similar to most of its neighbors, it featured a stone stoop and two dormers at the attic level.  The narrow doorway, devoid of extras like leaded sidelights, marked the house as a middle-class dwelling.

In 1827 the house was shared by two families.  William G. Burk was a carpenter, and Matthew Carter did not list a profession, suggesting he may have been retired.  Burk was most likely what we would call a contractor today.  

On March 31, 1830, an auction was held of "all the household & kitchen furniture of a family breaking up housekeeping."  Despite the modest appearance of the house, it contained items like a mahogany sideboard and chairs, "china tea sets, cut glass," and "pillar & claw feet breakfast tables."

William G. Burk may have been acquainted with the new owner of 24 Charlton Street.  George Paulding was also listed as a carpenter, with an office at 30 Gold Street, and was a well-known builder, or contractor.  Paulding was born in Peekskill, New York in 1792, the son of Revolutionary War hero John Paulding.  John was one of three militiamen who captured Major John André, who was associated in the treason of Benedict Arnold.

George and his wife, the former Eleanor Van Mater, had ten children.  In addition to his building business, George was highly involved in politics.  When he was appointed its candidate for assemblyman in 1848, the Free Soil Democracy of the Empire Ward called him, "a man whose feelings and principles are identified with the advancement of the best interests of our city."  In 1863, Biographical Sketches would remember him as, "a leading man in the Metropolitan city."

On September 13, 1855, George Paulding died at the age of 60.  His funeral was held in the parlor two days later.  

Two years later, Eleanor had a horrifying experience.  At about 6:30 on November 18, 1857, she was walking along Grand Street near Christie Street.  She carried a net handbag known as a reticule which, according to The Evening Post, "was of considerable value, containing, among other articles of value, a $50 check on the Pacific Bank."  (The amount would translate to about $1,800 in 2024.)

The newspaper said, "a ruffian, who gave his name as Rob Laton, came behind her, seizing the reticule...Her cries drew the attention of persons passing by, who made chase after the rascal."  The would-be purse snatcher found himself trapped.  The article continued, "others headed him off, and he was seized and given over of Officer Holmes."  During the chase, Laton had tossed Eleanor's purse, but it was later found and returned to her.  

One of the Pauldings' sons was John, who was born in 1819.  Like his father, he was involved in politics.  Biographical Sketches said, "He has always maintained a leading position in the Democratic party."  An attorney, John was elected to the State Assembly.  He and his wife, the former Jane Cosgrove, had four children.  Jane died in 1862 at about 35 years old, and John died in 1871.  

Following her father's death, Abbie Paulding moved into the Charlton Street house with her grandmother.  Sadly, she died within weeks--on June 8, 1871--and her funeral was held here two days later.

In the meantime, another son, E. E. Paulding, had distinguished himself during the Civil War, meriting the rank of lieutenant colonel.  After the war he relocated to St. Paul, Minnesota where he was editor of the Pioneer Printing Company.  In 1872, he returned to New York to visit his mother.  While here he contracted bronchitis, and died at the age of 41.

The following year Joseph Paulding, a broker at 24 New Street, moved in with his mother.  He may have convinced her to moved, and on April 9, 1875, two years before her death, the "genteel household furniture" of 24 Charlton Street was sold at auction.

The house Eleanor Paulding had called home for 45 years was purchased by Hugh Gallagher, who was in the "waters" business.  Living with the family was Gallagher's widowed mother-in-law, Eleanor Cassidy.  She died at the age of 77 on November 12, 1875 (the year they moved in).  Following her funeral in the house, a requiem mass was celebrated in St. Patrick's Cathedral.  

The Gallaghers would not remain long at 24 Charlton Street.  In 1878 it was home to Adolph Ode and his family.  He was associated with his father, Casimir, in the confectionery business Battais & Ode.  (Interestingly, Casimir lived across the street at 19 Charlton Street.)  The Odes had at least three children, Randolph T., Lottie and Clara.

Boarding with the Odes in 1878 was the Redden family.  John Redden, who was 17 years old, "works with his father sewing grain-bags on Pier 38," according to the New York Evening Express.  He was arrested on November 28 that year for a serious offense.

The New York Evening Express explained that each year on every national holiday, a group of young men known as the Original Hound Rangers "turn out in costume and parade the streets with the accompaniment of fifes and drums."  John Redden and several friends walked along the sidewalk, following the parade.  Suddenly, at Greenwich Street and Battery Place, Redden "was surrounded by a number of boys living in the neighborhood, who began to plague and assault him."  Finally, Redden, "exasperated at his tormentors," drew a knife from his pocket and plunged into the stomach of James Kenney, fatally wounding him.

Redden ran to the Staten Island ferryboat Middleville, but did not escape.  He was arrested on board by Officer Edward Scanlon.  The knife was found in his pocket.  The teen was held for trial in the Tombs.

The Odes' boarder in 1896 was Lawrence Bauerschmidt, who lived in the attic level.  He was described by the Brooklyn Daily Eagle as "an old man."  Bauerschmidt nearly lost his life on May 28 that year, when an overheated range caused a fire.  The family escaped, but Bauerschmidt was found in his room by Fireman Biorman "partially overcome by smoke."  Biorman carried him through the skylight "and down into an adjoining building.  He soon revived," said the article.

A touching episode involving Randolph T. Ode that played out in 1905 was reported as far away as Australia.  The young man, who was a civil engineer, was afflicted with "incipient tuberculosis" and traveled to Colorado Springs in hopes of a cure.  Describing him as "the son of Adolph Ode, a wealthy wholesale confectioner," the Oshkosh Northwestern related that he "wrote home that he thought he would feel better if he could see Miss Harris."  Miss Harris was May Amanda Harris.  

The newspaper reported, "Mrs. Ode and Miss Harris hastened to Colorado, where, under the shadow of Pike's peak, and largely through the young woman's nursing, Mr. Ode rapidly regained his health.  Colorado Springs will be the objective point of the honeymoon tour."

At the time of the heartwarming wedding, the Odes had been gone from 24 Charlton Street for several years.  In 1897, the year after the fire, it was home to Jeremiah and Elizabeth (known as Lizzie) McCarthy.  Jeremiah ran a saloon on West Street.  As had been the case twice before, only months after moving into the house, Jeremiah died on November 30, 1897.

Apparently a self-reliant woman, Lizzie McCarty took over running the saloon, and she took in a boarder.  In 1897 it was William A. Virtue, a clerk; and in 1898 Thomas Reagan lived here.  He died at the age of 30 on March 18, that year.

Following Lizzie McCarty's death on May 29, 1899 (her funeral was held in the house on May 31), 24 Charlton Street became home to Irish immigrant George H. Brennan and his wife.  The 26-year-old was looking for a job in August 1900, describing himself in his ad as, "Barkeeper, experienced, understands the business."  

Brennan's luck did not improve.  On February 27, 1903, the New-York Tribune reported he had filed for bankruptcy, listing liabilities of $3,658.67 and assets of $100.  It appears that Brennan's actual income came from less than honest enterprises.

On February 14, 1904, The Sun reported that the police had raided the "poolroom" at 15 West Houston Street.  (The term did not refer to billiards, but to horse betting.)  The article said, "Three hundred men were caught in the place, but only six of them were held...Capt. Brennan lined up the 300 men in the room and picked out those he wanted.  The first man he spotted was George Brennan of 24 Charlton street.  The captain knew him from past experience."  Previously, Captain Brennan (who was by no means related to George) had tried to gather evidence at the place, "but his namesake threw him out."

In 1919, William Sloane Coffin and his wife Catherine purchased 14 vintage houses in the neighborhood, including 24 Charlton Street.  They gently renovated the house, connecting the dormers in the process.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Interestingly, only a year after the renovations were completed, the Coffins sold 24 Charlton Street to Margaret F. Clarke.  It initiated a series of turnovers in owners throughout the next two decades.

A relic of Manhattan life when America was just 50 years old, today the venerable Paulding house is a two-family residence. 

photographs by the author
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Sylvan Bien's 1940 737 Park Avenue

 

photo by Godsfriendchuck

Born in Austria, architect Sylvan Bien emigrated to San Francisco to work on the 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition.  He relocated to New York City in 1919.  By the 1930s he was designing mostly apartment buildings and hotels.

In 1939, the 737 Park Avenue Corp. demolished seven rowhouses at the northeast corner of Park Avenue and 71st Street.  Bien was commissioned to design an apartment building on the site.  He blended traditional French neo-Classical motifs into his Art Moderne design.  Completed in 1940, the building's five-story limestone base upheld 14 stories of red brick.  At the upper floors, Greek key bands and classical pediments harkened to French Empire prototypes.

This rendering graced the cover of the 1940 brochure which touted the "architectural standards of the general Empire style."  from the Avery Library collection of Columbia University

The lobby was designed to impress.  The real estate brochure said, "The floor is terrazzo with matched marble wainscot.  Several large wall paintings by a well known mural artist are used to bring warmth and interest to the entire entrance and elevator lobby."

Two views of the lobby in 1941.  from the collection of the Library of Congress.

Potential tenants could select apartments ranging from three to eight rooms.  "Some suites have terraces, and there are several 3 and 6 room duplex arrangements," said the brochure, which noted, "All have large galleries, with powder and dressing rooms in most, while many have maids' rooms.  Additional maids' rooms are available on the first floor."

The "special apartments" were on the 18th and 19th floors.  The "C" model included seven rooms, four baths, a dressing room, powder room, library and dining room, plus three terraces.  The brochure promised the apartments would "satisfy the most rigorous demands for prestige and distinction."

The three "special" apartments on the 18th and 19th floors all had terraces.  from the Avery Library collection of Columbia University

As the building neared completion in September 1940, S. R. Firestone, vice president of Pease & Elliman, told a reporter from The New York Times that 737 Park Avenue reflected a change in Manhattan lifestyle.  He said that builders were "providing discriminating Manhattan apartment residents with the same type of accommodations they enjoyed in earlier years but with fewer rooms and on a substantially lower rental basis."  He was quick to add, "There has been, however, no sacrifice of comfort or convenience."  The article continued, "Mr. Firestone states that many of these smaller suites in the 737 Park Avenue house have been taken by tenants who are vacating twelve-room suites."

photo by "Eden, Janine and Jim"

Among the first was Dr. Roy Chapman Andrews, who signed a lease on April 19, 1940, months before construction would be completed.  He would move in with his second wife, Wilhelmina Christmas.  Born in 1884, Andrews was described by The New York Times as "naturalist, explorer and director of the American Museum of Natural History."  He traveled the globe on various expeditions, cataloging wildlife and discovering fossils.  (The Andrewsarchus was named for him.)  When he and Wilhelmina moved into 737 Park Avenue he had written ten books, including the 1921 Across Mongolian Plains and the 1929 Ends of the Earth, and would go on to write 13 more.

Andrews made the cover of Time magazine on October 29, 1923.  (copyright expired)

Most residents of 737 Park Avenue had country homes, while a few kept apartments here as their city pied-à-terre.  That was the case with Irving and Renee Weisner.  The couple was married on June 3, 1958 and moved into a 27-room, 10-bath house in Woodmere, Long Island.  They rented an apartment here for those evenings when they came into the city.  Testimony in their divorce case said the apartment, "was used...only occasionally, not exceeding approximately 20 nights during the three years of their marriage, and was used by [Renee] mainly for the purpose of changing her clothes when the parties had a social engagement."

The apartment of S. Beutsch included this clever bar with acrylic feet and Erté type decorations.  It was photographed by Gottscho-Schleisner, Inc. in a closed position...

...and opened position on March 21, 1941.  from the collection of the Library of Congress.

The family of William Olden lived here by the early 1960s.  Born in Berlin, Germany in 1909, Olden arrived in America in 1938.  He and his wife, the former Margot Cohnreich, had two children, Barbara Evelyn (known in society as Bambi), and Robert.  Olden started out with a small camera business, and by the time the family moved in to 737 Park Avenue it was "one of the most successful retail and mail-order camera concerns in the country," according to The New York Times. 

Like the daughters of other well-heeled families, Bambi Olden received an enviable education.  She attended the Calhoun School, the Russell Sage College, Le Grand Verger (a finishing school in Lausanne, Switzerland), and the Sarah Lawrence College summer session in Florence, Italy.  When her engagement to Roger H. Felberbaum was announced in April 1964, she was a senior at New York University.

A fascinating resident was Barbara Gabard, who moved in around 1968.  Born to a wealthy Jewish family in Poland in 1912, her first husband was Nathan Padowicz.  Following his suicide, she married Leon Waisbrem, an industrialist.  They lived in Warsaw where their son Julian was born in 1933.  At the outbreak of World War II, she and Julian escaped to Brazil, while Leon remained behind to fight in the Polish Army.

Her escape from Europe resulted in a book, Flight to Freedom, which was published in 1941.  Barbara's husband did not survive the war, and in 1945 she married Pierre Gabard in London.  He became Consul for France in Philadelphia where Barbara was a celebrated hostess and socialite.  Gabard died in 1967 and shortly afterward Barbara moved to New York City and 737 Park Avenue.

This portrait of Barbara Gabard was created by Francois Gilot in 1955.  private collection 

On December 9, 1973, the "Suzy Says" column of the Daily News said, 

Mrs. Pierre Gabard, author of "Flight to Freedom," and widow of the French resistance her0-diplomat, put a big dinner party together to honor Alain Chailloux, chief of press for the French Embassy.  About 60 crowded into Barbara Gabard's Auntie Mame-ish Park Ave. apartment where the Louis XV furniture, the Legers, Mary Cassatt, Pissaros and Picassos combine raffishly with the Alexander Libermans.  It's one way of doing it.

Despite the glittering parties, the antique French furniture and the museum-quality art collection, Barbara Gabard suffered from what was described as "a history of depression."  Two weeks after the party, on the night of December 30, a friend, Seward Kennedy, visited her.  Around 2:50 a.m., according to Kennedy, Barbara left the living room.  The New York Times reported, "When she didn't return, he said, he went to investigate and found she jumped from the 12th-floor window."  She was declared dead upon arrival at Metropolitan Hospital.

image via corcoran.com

In 2011 the CIM Group acquired 737 Park Avenue and began a conversion to condominiums.  The 104 rental apartments became 56 resident-owned units.  The full-floor penthouse sold in June 2015 for $32.6 million.  The New York Times noted, "The apartment was sold as a 'white box,' without interior walls or finishes, though it does include a wood-burning fireplace."

many thanks to reader Lowell Cochrane for suggesting this post

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Congregation Ezrath Israel -- The Actors' Temple -- 339 West 47th Street

 

In September 1922, architect Sidney P. Oppenheim filed plans to dramatically remodel a "four story brick tenement" for the West Side Hebrew Relief Association, Inc.  The old structure (it was built around 1869) was, in fact, a high-stooped brownstone which had been converted to a rooming house.  Oppenheim's far-reaching plans called for new floors, new interior walls, "new exterior, new front."

The house was transformed into a synagogue faced in sandy-colored brick.  It was home to Congregation Ezrath Israel (Help of Israel), founded in 1917.  Vaguely neo-Georgian in style, the building's focal point was the large, centered arch that embraced the stained glass rose window.

In the post-World War I years, the most conservative of churches and synagogues still considered the theater to be sinful.  People involved in the theater were not welcomed by those institutions.  This synagogue was conveniently near the entertainment district, however, and when actor-comedian Red Baxter began worshiping at Ezrath Israel, Rabbi Bernard Birstein welcomed him.

Birstein was born in 1892 in Poland and had come to America in 1912.  Word of his warm reception to actors and entertainers spread.  Before long, the congregation was a mix of long-time neighborhood residents and stage celebrities.  

Rabbi Birstein discovered that having well-known members in his congregation had its advantages.  He instituted what would become an annual benefit.  According to Birstein's daughter, Ann, in her 1982 book The Rabbi on 47th Street, the events featured performances by the likes of Sophie Tucker; Jimmy Durante and his vaudeville team Clayton, Jackson and Durante; Red Buttons; Eddie Cantor; Jack Benny; Edward G. Robinson; and Milton Berle.  Within a few years, Congregation Ezrath Israel had earned the nickname, The Actors' Temple.  

The benefit would be staged every February for years.  On January 28, 1933, the Greenpoint Daily Star reported, 

With Eddie Cantor and George Jessel as honorary chairmen, Broadway stage stars are rallying to the support of the charity show to be given in aid of Temple Ezrath Israel at the Casino Theater on Sunday evening, February 5.  This annual theatrical affair helps considerably to maintain the synagogue, located at 339 West Forty-seventh street, where the actors come to pray and mourn for the dead.

More somber, of course, were those many funerals and memorial services which were routinely held here.  On April 16, 1927, for instance, The Vaudeville News reported, "N.V.A. [National Vaudeville Artists] members are respectfully invited to attend a Memorial Service on Sunday, April 24, 1927, at 11 A. M. at the Ezrath Israel Synagogue, 339 West 47th St., New York City."

On July 12, 1941, The New York Times reported on the memorial service for theatrical producer Sam H. Harris.  The article said 200 friends and former associates were present.  "George M. Cohan, former partner of Mr. Harris, had been asked to speak...but had declined, saying, 'I was too close to Sam Harris.  I couldn't go through with it.'"

Rabbi Bernard Birstein died in 1959 at the age of 67.  On November 15, The New York Times reported that "Congregation Ezrath Israel, more familiarly known as the Actors Temple," had hired Rabbi Moshay P. Mann.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Things were changing in the neighborhood and within the congregation.  Following World War II the motion picture industry drew celebrities to the West Coast.  And the neighborhood generally declined.  The 16th Precinct police stationhouse, just steps away, was demolished in 1972 and the station moved to a new building on West 54th Street.  Within weeks, on October 9, the shul was broken into and $500 worth of silver breastplates, used to adorn the Torah, were stolen.  (The items were later discovered in a pawnshop.)

On November 18, 1978, Leslie Maitland, writing in The New York Times, began an article saying,

Edward G. Robinson conducted services.  Toots Shor, Tony Martin and Red Buttons came to pray.  And when the rabbi had trouble gathering a minyan of 10 Jewish men at the Actors' Temple, the old 16th Precinct station a few doors down on 47th Street could be counted on to provide it.

But times have changed.

Edward G. Robinson is dead.  Red Buttons lives in California.  The police station has been torn down.  The police officers who visit now do not come to pray.

Those police officers were, instead, were coming to investigate vandalism.  Teens threw rocks through the windows, spray painted swastikas on the walls, and "shout[ed] obscenities at its leaders," according to Maitland.

Label Malamud had been cantor here for three decades.  Pointing to the school next door to the synagogue, he asked Maitland, "You think they go to school with pencils?  These days they carry knives.  They could make me a head shorter than I already am.  Frankly, I am afraid."  A month before the article, the synagogue's outdoor Succoth decorations had been destroyed.

In response, the congregation had installed a $2,000 burglar alarm system and covered the stained glass windows with plywood--among them memorial windows to Joe E. Lewis, Sophie Tucker and theatrical agent Joe Glaser.

On November 29, 2006, Campbell Robertson of The New York Times wrote, "Recently--say, oh, during the last half-century--this temple, with a declining membership and a vanishing budget, has not been doing so well."  In a desperate attempt to buoy its finances, the members of Congregation Ezrath Israel had decided to offer its auditorium as an Off Broadway venue.  The first play, The Big Voice: God or Merman?, opened on November 30, 2006.

It had not been an easy decision.  Congregation members discussed--and fought--it for more than a year.  Member Rich Schussel explained, "There was, first of all, the fundamental question of whether it was appropriate to open an active temple to show business.  And then the practical matters: if a show has a big, immovable set, what do you do for Friday and Saturday services?"

Vice president of the board, Mike Libien, said, "Not everyone was happy about it."  But, given the financial situation, "we really had no choice."

Nearly two decades later, the unlikely bedfellows continue to coexist as Congregation Ezrath Israel and the Actors' Temple Theater.

photograph by the author

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The 1907 Rhineland Court - 244 Riverside Drive

photograph by Deansfa

The last quarter of the 19th century saw magnificent mansions rise along Riverside Drive.  Mary Alicia Vanderbilt La Bau lived at 244 Riverside Drive at the southeast corner of 97th Street.  Born in 1834, she was one of five daughters of Cornelius Vanderbilt I.  She died in her mansion on August 16, 1902.

In 1906, Robert T. Lyons purchased the plot.  The well-established architect now added real estate developer to his resume.  On January 19 he announced he would erect a "six-story, high-class apartment house" on the site.

The Rhineland Court cost Lyons $200,000 to construct, or about $6.69 million in 2024.  The six-story, Renaissance Revival style structure was faced in yellow brick above a rusticated stone base.  The entrance was recessed far back within the deep court that divided the two wings and provided light and ventilation to interior rooms.  Apartment Houses of the Metropolis said:

Apartments are laid out three on a floor, in suites of five, seven and nine rooms.  The nine-room apartments have two baths, the five and seven-room suites one bath and extra servants' toilet.  They are equipped with all the latest conveniences.  Laundry and drying room in basement, garbage closets in kitchens, long distance telephone in each apartment.

Rents ranged from $1,000 to $2,300 per year--about $6,500 a month for the most expensive by 2024 conversion.

Apartment Houses of the Metropolis, 1907 (copyright expired)

Among the initial residents was its architect and builder, Robert T. Lyons, and his bride, Annabel Koepfel.  Annabel had worked in Lyons's office and the couple's marriage did not sit well with Lyons's wealthy mother.  The New York Press explained that the architect married Annabel, "in December 1906, without his mother's consent.  Simultaneously he quitted his mother's home."  Immediately, the son and mother began a years-long series of court battles over property.  Lyons claimed ownership of fifty percent of the real estate his father had left in 1897, and Mary Lyons claimed her son had misappropriated the funds she had entrusted to him to maintain those buildings.  The New York Press, on April 26, 1910, attributed the ugly dispute to "his marriage to a poor girl against his mother's wishes."

In the meantime, Rhineland Court was home to Lew Dockstader and his wife, the former Lucin Brown.  A vaudeville star especially well-known for his minstrel troupe, Dockstader was born George Alfred Clapp in 1856.  He legally changed his name in 1887.

Lew Dockstader, from the collection of the New York Public Library

The vaudevillian received a scare on  June 23, 1910.  The New-York Tribune reported, "Lew Dockstader, the minstrel, who lives at No. 244 Riverside Drive, was knocked down by a delivery wagon on Broadway, near 46th street, about 7 o'clock last evening."  A policeman helped Dockstader to his feet.  He was not seriously injured and refused to make a complaint against the wagon driver.

More typical of the residents were Charles W. H. Kirchhoff and his wife Virginia.  Born in San Francisco in 1853, Kirchhoff had graduated from the Royal School of Mines in Clausthal, Germany with a degree in mining engineering and metallurgy.  In addition to editing professional journals like The Iron Age and The Engineering and Mining Journal, he was general manager of the David Williams Co., and was a special agent for the U.S. Geological Survey from 1883 to 1906.  

Charles W. H. Kirchhoff, Engineering News, July 27, 1916 (copyright expired)

The Kirchhoffs' summer home was in Asbury Park, New Jersey.  In 1911, the couple were among the 12 families living in Rhineland Court who were listed in Dau's New York Social Bluebook.  Virginia Kirchhoff died in the couple's apartment  that year on December 21, at the age of 83.  Charles Kirchhoff survived her by nearly five years, dying at the Asbury Park residence on July 23, 1916.

Resident Maurice E. Shearer returned to 244 Riverside Drive following his service with the United States Marine Corps in World War I.  He received the Distinguished Service Cross in 1919 for "extraordinary heroism in action in the Bois de Belieau, France, June 25, 1918."  The Congressional paperwork recalled, 

He displayed conspicuous courage, going forward at the head of his command during the attack.  Personally going along the front line after the objective had been reached, he encouraged his men and directed the repulse of a counterattack by the enemy.  During the encounter his battalion took over 200 prisoners and 19 machine guns.

Moving into the building around the time of Shearer's award were Joseph Charles Rowan and his wife Cora Cook.  An attorney, Rowan graduated from Columbia Law School in 1891.  He was also a director and trustee in banks and other businesses, including the West Side Savings Bank.  Shortly after moving into Rhineland Court, Rowan was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives, serving from March 4, 1919 to March 4, 1921.  Following his term in office he returned to his private law practice.

Congressman Joseph Rowan and his wife retained their apartment here during his term in Washington DC.  from the collection of the Library of Congress.

A tragic incident touched the lives of Robert and Annabel Lyons in 1921.  Their chauffeur's wife, Emma Torshio, underwent an operation to remove a cancerous tumor that year but, unfortunately, her doctors said "she had not long to live," according to the Dobbs Ferry New York Register.  Emma was admitted to the private sanitarium of Dr. Alice Bugbee in White Plains.  There, on September 6, she committed suicide by jumping from her window.  The Register mentioned that her husband, "S. Torshio [is the] Japanese chauffeur for a family named Lyons, of 244 Riverside drive, New York."

The following month, two other residents, John Bayard Pruyn and his wife Edith, were touched by tragedy.  Pruyn was a classmate, close friend and law partner of Charles White Whittlesey.  In 1917, Whittlesey took a leave from their law practice to join the U.S. Army.  He was promoted to major in September 1917 and put in command of the 77th Division (composed largely of soldiers from New York City).  The division was involved in the massive American attack on the Germans in the Meuse-Argonne region on October 2, 1918.  Whittlesey and his men were cut off from their supply lines and pinned down for days.  War correspondents tagged the unit the "Lost Battalion."

In the end, of Whittlesey's 554 troops, 107 were killed, 63 were missing and 190 were wounded.  Only 194 could climb out of the ravine on their own.  Although Whittlesey was highly decorated, was promoted to lieutenant colonel, and returned to New York a hero, the weight of the experience was too much.  

On November 24, 1921, Whittlesey boarded to S. S. Toloa headed for Cuba.  Two nights later, after writing several letters, he walked to the railing of the ship and plunged overboard to his death.  One of the letters was to John Bayard Pruyn.  It said in part:

Dear Bayard,

    Just a note to say goodby.  I'm a misfit by nature and by training and there's an end of it...I won't try to say anything personal, Bayard, because you and I understand each other.  Give my love to Edith.

                                As ever, Charles Whittlesey

Whittlesey made Pruyn his executor and the letter detailed practical matters like his bank balances, outstanding bills, life insurance policies and where to find them, and such.  It was left to Pruyn to notify Whittlesey's parents and other relatives of his death.

The original floorplans reveal sprawling apartments.  Apartment Houses of the Metropolis, 1907 (copyright expired)

A colorful resident was Harriet Gill Rowley, who lived in the apartment of her daughter, Lillian B. Crowell, and son-in-law.  On September 1, 1919, The New York Times called her, "probably the oldest woman voter in New York City."  Born in 1832, Harriet's first foray into politics, according to the article, was in 1840 when she helped decorate a float on which she rode in a parade for the Presidential campaign of William Henry Harrison.  She was eight years old at the time.    

Because her father was active in politics, she listened in on discussions in their parlor among men like Horace Greeley, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Bayard Taylor.  Later, she became close friends with pioneer suffragists Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton.  In the aftermath of World War I, she recalled that even though President Andrew Johnson, "was not equal to the responsibility," things returned to normal.  "It will not be so now, unless President Wilson handles his problems better than he has been doing," she told The New York Times reporter.

Three years after the article, on November 24, 1922, Harriet Gill Rowley died at the age of 91.   In her obituary, The New York Times recalled her admonitions to women voters, one of which was, "vote on election day, no matter what you must neglect in order to do it."

Resident Joseph L. Lyons was one of the leading real estate operators in Manhattan.  On March 6, 1930, The New York Sun reported that he and mezzo-soprano Carmela Ponselle had announced their engagement.  Born Carmela Anna Ponzillo on June 7, 1887, Lyons's future bride had started her career with her sister, Rosa Ponselle, as The Ponzillo Sisters.  Both would later join the Metropolitan Opera, Carmela debuting in Aida in 1925.

James Johnson's residency here ended on October 30, 1935 when he was sent to Sing Sing prison.  The 24-year-old "had winning ways with women and profited by them," according to The New York Sun.  He was found guilty of marrying Fae Fennamore in Brooklyn on September 30, 1928, and then marrying Rae Green in Manhattan on June 20, 1935.  The article said, "the first wife heard about the second marriage and had Johnson arrested."

photograph by the author

No longer called Rhineland Court, in 1951 244 Riverside Drive was renovated.  There were now between seven and eleven apartments per floor, a configuration that remains.

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The Lost Lyceum Theatre - Fourth Avenue near 23rd Street

 

photograph by Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

William Y. Mortimer leased a 50-foot-wide parcel on the west side of Fourth Avenue (later Park Avenue South) between 23rd and 24th Streets in January 1884 to Philip G. Hubert, Charles W. Clinton, and Michael Brennan for 21 years at a yearly rental of $4,000.  The trio hired the architectural firm of Hubert & Pirsson to design a theater on the site for the American Theatre Company.  Theatrical managers and producers Steele Mackaye, Gustave Frohman, and Franklin Sergeant were the main forces behind the newly formed group.

The three-story structure was completed in 1884 at a cost of $50,000 (about $1.6 million in 2024).  In his 1903 A History of the New York Stage, T. Allston Brown mentioned that it was faced in "finished brick, with freestone trimmings."  Hubert & Pirsson's somber Romanesque Revival stood in stark contrast with Peter Ponnet Wight's exuberant, Venetian Gothic style Academy of Design next door.  The New York Times flatly described the architecture of the Lyceum Theatre as, "nondescript."  

But the reserved facade belied the wondrous interiors.  Calling the Lyceum "richly appointed," The Sun's Guide of New York noted, "the interior decorations were made by the Tiffany Glass and Decorating Company," and the Memorial History of the City of New-York said the theater "is quite unique in its decorations, which are mainly of artistic colored and jeweled glass."  Tiffany Glass & Decorating worked closely with Thomas Alva Edison, a close friend of Steel Mackaye, in the design.  It would be the first New York theater to be lit entirely by electricity.  "No other theatre in New York resembles the Lyceum," said The Sun's Guide of New York.

There were other innovations, as well.  "It is the only theater in the city without a family circle," noted The Memorial History of the City of New-York.  Of note was the orchestra "frame or box."  When the overture began, the stage curtains opened to reveal the orchestra.  At its completion, "the musicians were hoisted on the automatic elevator clear into the flies, where the bottom of the car made the top part of the proscenium frame," explained the article.  

Steele Mackaye had always intended that the building would also house an acting school.  It was a brilliant scheme, affording him first pick of talented newcomers.  On August 3, 1884, The New York Times noted, "Mr. Mackaye's ability in the line of promoting undeveloped dramatic taste is already well understood."  On the same day (while the building was still under construction), the Morning Journal reported, "Within a fortnight, the new Lyceum Conservatory will begin operations with its first class of one hundred pupils."

Reporters were given a tour of the theater in March 1885, a month before opening night.  The critic from The New York Times was far from pleased.  He said that that upon entering, "the stairs right and left are so quiet, with their wood finished in old English style, that one is unprepared for the coming orgy of Oriental decoration."

Admitting that the design of "Mr. Louis C. Tiffany, the decorator, is in the main a pretty one," the critic went on to pan the sumptuous, colorful auditorium, saying in part:

It takes time to adjust one's faculties to the variety of decoration offered...and you hardly know whether you are in Ceylon or Connecticut.  One has but to raise the eyes to the great cluster of colored globes lit by electricity, and feel one's self once more in the Mosque of Teef-haneh at Afrasiab, so beautifully iridescent are the soft hues that stream therefrom.  They hang like the suspended ostrich eggs in the Tomb of the Prophet.  But one is not safely landed in Mecca before the abstracted eye glides unwarily upon a strictly Hindu bit of decoration, and thus in a moment one is carried 1,000 miles from Araby into furthest India.  Looking back about the front of the gallery, however, one is quickly restored to our own New-York, for who but Mr. Louis C. Tiffany could have dribbled melted lead so frantically over pieces of parti-colored glass like those blue bull's eyes with electric lights behind them, plastered against the brown satin background?  Let us confess, it is a jumble.

The Lyceum Theatre opened on April 6, 1885 with Mackaye's new play Dakolar.  (Admission to the 661-seat venue ranged from 75 cents to 2 dollars.)  The New York Times critic was as uncomplimentary to the play as he had been to the auditorium's décor.  He said it fell far short of what "this public had the right to expect in the first production of the much-trumpeted Lyceum Theatre."

Less than a month later, on May 1, The New York Times reported, "the lines of the Lyceum Theatre do not appear to have been cast in pleasant places, and the creditors of the house are now engaged in looking upon it with rather anxious eyes."  Among those creditors was Louis C. Tiffany.  "His contract for decorations amounted to $50,000, of which $42,000 is still unpaid," said the article.  (The outstanding balance would equal $1.37 million today.)  The article said, "It was expected that Mr. Steele Mackaye's play 'Dakolar' would crowd the house nightly.  The public, however, has not responded."

Louis C. Tiffany & Co. sued the American Theatre Company in July, quickly followed by a suit by Franklin H. Sargent, one of the founders and the instructor of the Lyceum Theatre School.  He claimed $10,000 in unpaid wages.

Actress Helen Dauvray took over management of the theater for two seasons, during which she starred in One of Our Girls, which ran for 200 performances.

Helen Dauvray (seated) and the cast of One of Our Girls in the Lyceum Theatre. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

On May 3, 1887, Daniel Frohman, brother of Gustav Frohman, one of the original founders, took over.  Under Frohman, the Lyceum Theatre became one of New York's foremost venues.  In 1892, The Sun's Guide to New York described it as "a richly appointed, carefully arranged house, and a fashionable place of amusement," adding, "The theatre is noted for the rich and tasteful scenic settings, the handsome dresses of the actresses, and the refined character of the plays."

Daniel Frohman's company included stars like E. H. Sothern, Maude Adams and Richard Mansfield.  Upon taking over the Lyceum Theatre, he made a change that elated many theater-goers.  The Record & Guide reported, "Manager Frohman has made quite a hit in trying to induce the lady patrons of the Lyceum Theatre to remove their bonnets before taking seats that would obstruct the view of those sitting behind them.  A good many ladies have complied with the request, and the matter has excited so much discussion in social circles as to make it a very good advertisement for the theatre."

Like One of Our Girls, the play Lord Chumley was a hit.  Written by David Belasco (who worked for years with Frohman here) and Henry Churchill de Mille, it starred Maude Adams and E. H. Sothern.  On August 21, 1888, the drama critic of The New York Times began his review saying,

It is so nice and refreshing to find a play which can be spoken of in an ecstasy of adjectival gushfulness that I feel inclined to toy with it and gloat over it, like a cat does over a newly caught mouse, before I begin to discuss its merits.  Strict consideration for the feelings of others, however, prompts me to restrain myself.

A scene from Lord Chumley.   from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The play suffered a tragedy a few weeks later.  Charles B. Bishop played the role of Adam Butterworth in Lord Chumley.  Although he was not feeling well on October 8, 1889, he went to the theater as normal.  The New York Times reported, "He was in good humor and pleasantly greeted his associates...He was prominent in the first scene of the play, and was ready at the wings waiting for his cue.  When it came, he went on gayly, and acted the scene through as brightly and spiritedly as he had ever done."

After exiting the stage, he staggered down the stairs to the stage manager's office and fell to the floor.  In less than ten minutes he was dead.  The curtain closed mid-act, and a few seconds later E. H. Sothern notified the audience that Bishop was dead and that the play would not continue.

On December 31, 1901, the New-York Tribune reported that Richard Mortimer, son of William Mortimer, had sold the property to William E. Hebberd.  Although the Tribune's reporter was assured, "It merely means a new ownership, that's all," the journalist noted, "There have been rumors recently that the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company, of New-York, intended to get the property in order to enlarge its holdings in the block bounded by Madison Square, Fourth-ave., Twenty-third, and Twenty-fourth sts."

 from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Indeed, less than two months later, on February 6, 1902, the newspaper reported, "Title to the Lyceum Theatre property, in Fourth-ave...was recently obtained by the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company...It was then announced that this was the Lyceum's last season, at the end of which the building would be torn down."

Demolition of the building began on March 20, 1902.  The Metropolitan Life Insurance Company's new building engulfed the 23rd Street blockfront from Madison Avenue to Fourth Avenue, eradicating a score of structures including Wight's magnificent Academy of Design.

The Metropolitan Life Insurance Company building, seen from Madison Avenue.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Two years later, Metropolitan Life Insurance Company expanded again, filling the rest of the Madison Avenue block with a soaring tower and, in the process, razing another masterful building (one which also had Tiffany interiors), Stanford White's Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church.

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