Friday, February 28, 2025

The 1931 Madison Ave. Baptist Church / Roger Williams Hotel - 129-131 Madison Avenue

 


In the early 1920s, a new concept began sweeping metropolitan areas--the "skyscraper church."  Congregations from coast to coast were demolishing their old structures and erecting apartment or office buildings that incorporated a ground floor church space.  In theory, the congregation would reap tremendous income from the rental properties.  It was a notion that would catch the attention of the Madison Avenue Baptist Church at the southeast corner of Madison Avenue and 31st Street.

The 1855 Madison Avenue Baptist Church, from the collection of the New York Public Library

Organized in 1838 as the Rose Hill Church, in 1849 it changed its name to the Lexington Avenue Baptist Church.  Three years later it moved into a red brick structure at 154 Lexington Avenue.  Only six years later, in 1858, the congregation relocated into a Romanesque Revival-style structure at Madison Avenue and 31st Street.  The church was renamed the Madison Avenue Baptist Church.  

In 1929, with the Great Depression ravaging the country, the congregation faced a decision.  The trustees leased its property to the newly formed Madison Avenue-Thirty-first Street Corporation.  It demolished the vintage church and hired architects Jardine, Murdock & Wright to design a 15-story residential hotel on the site.  A restriction in the deed demanded that the new building would include a sanctuary for the Madison Avenue Baptist Church.  Rev. John Sanders Bone later explained it was the only way "to maintain itself in an area where it could have survived because of the terrific costs, and to provide a 'witness' in the business community in the heart of the city."

Perhaps as a nod to the former church structure, Jardine, Murdock & Wright designed the hotel-church in a 1930s take on Romanesque.  The sanctuary was located at the southern part of the property, with a three-story limestone face and an impressive arched entrance.  The stained glass windows from the demolished church, executed by Franz Xavier Zettler sometime after 1870, were salvaged and installed into the new sanctuary.

On October 12, 1931, The New York Times reported, "The new Madison Avenue Baptist Church, built into the lower floors of the Roger Williams apartment hotel...was formally opened yesterday morning."  The hotel was named for Roger Williams, who founded the First Baptist Church in America in 1638.


The entrance to the Roger Williams Hotel was on West 31st Street.  Its apartments would be called "studios," today.  An advertisement in the Columbia Spectator on May 12, 1932 described, "one room apartments, attractively furnished" with "kitchenette."  Rents were "$40 per month and up," or about $892 in 2025 terms.

Tenants saw a rent hike the following year.  An ad in The New York Sun in 1933 was titled, "You Get All This for $50," and touted, "attractive living room, tile bath, cooking facilities with gas without charge, also electric connections.  Electric refrigeration.  Ample closet space.  Maid service optional."

Despite their relatively small accommodations, the apartments filled with middle-class professionals, like literary agent Minnie Hoover Linton, who moved in on October 28, 1933 with her cat.  Linton, who according to The New York Times, was "distantly related to former President Hoover," was the sister of J. Edgar Hoover.  After having worked as an editor at McGraw-Hill Publishing Company for ten years, in 1929 she co-founded her agency with Nell Martin.

Also an author, Minnie Linton had completed six chapters of her current novel, The Rooming House, when she moved in.  
The 59-year-old was almost totally deaf, a result of an explosion in The Los Angeles Times building where she had worked as a proof-reader.  (Twenty-one other workers were killed.)  Because of her condition, she carried an ear trumpet.

The evening after moving into the Roger Williams, Minnie attempted to visit Nell Martin, but she was out.  She had almost made it back home at 10:00 when she was struck and killed at the corner of Madison Avenue and 31st Street.   

Novelist Henry Miller and writer Anaïs Nin moved into the Roger Williams Hotel in November 1934, according to Robert Ferguson's Henry Miller, A Life.   Ferguson explains, "The main achievement of his stay at the Roger Williams Apartments...was to finish Black Spring, the collection of autobiographical pieces that would eventually become his second published work."

Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin (original source unknown)

Sylvia Morris lived here in 1935 when she suffered embarrassing, nationwide press coverage.  Her repeated visits to Dr. Winfield Scott Pugh raised the suspicions of Pugh's wife, Irma Mary.  One afternoon she was at her husband's office when Sylvia Morris was taken into the examination room.  She later told a judge that there was "complete silence" in the room.  "When other patients were there I always heard commotion."  

Irma Mary Pugh went outside, obtained a stepladder, and peered into her husband's examination room.  In court on January 23, 1936, she pointed to Sylvia Morris and testified, "I saw that woman laying nude on the operating table.  My husband was in his undershirt," as reported in The Decatur Daily Review.

Amelia Sackett moved to New York from Philadelphia after being separated from her lithographer husband, Harry A. Sackett.  She found a job in a doctor's office in Brooklyn and  signed a lease for an apartment on the seventh floor with a friend here in 1939.  Her attempt to move on from her divorce was not successful and she suffered depression.  On November 23, 1939, Amelia rushed toward the open apartment window.  Her roommate grasped her clothing, but the fabric tore and the 66-year-old plunged to her death.

Living here in the post-World War II years was Florence Lundborg.  Born in 1870 in San Francisco, she studied at the Mark Hopkins Institute of Art and in Europe.  An established illustrator and muralist, among her works were murals for the Wadleigh High School in Manhattan and the Curtis High School on Staten Island.  Lundborg died during her sleep in her apartment here on January 18, 1949 at the age of 78.

Florence Lundborg from the collection of the National Archives and Records Administration.

By the third quarter of the century, the Roger Williams (which now accepted only transient guests) had declined.  The management began renovations in 1970, and on October 23, New York Magazine wrote, 
 
It is small and not very attractive--but adequate.  The tiny lobby and many of the rooms are now being redecorated, and the dingy hallways do lead to some pleasant rooms.  Those on the lower floors had been remodeled with wood paneling and all-new bathrooms.  The idea behind the renovation is to achieve the modern, efficient look of a motel room.  That they succeed may be either a plus or a minus in your book.
 
At the time of the article, an unrenovated single room ranged from $14.50 to $19.50 per night.  A remodeled room began at $16.50 (about $129 today).

In 1985, the Red Cross took over three floors of the Roger Williams as an "emergency family center" that could accommodate 30 homeless families, according to The New York Times on June 23.  The Red Cross facility remained at least through 1987.

On December 18, 1992, The New York Times published an article on Manhattan hotels that cost $150 or less per night.  Calling the Roger Williams Hotel a "simple, tidy establishment," it said, "The furnishings are just a step up from college dormitories, but the beds are decent and the prices remarkable."  A room cost $55 per night.

In 1995, the Madison Avenue Baptist Church leased the hotel to Bernard Goldberg, principal of the Gotham Hospitality Group.  Rev. Michael B. Easterling, the church's pastor, explained that of the eight operators who bid on the lease, "the Gotham Group has proposed the strongest renovation program."  The following year, the new proprietors initiated a year-long renovation.

Originally retaining the Hotel Roger Williams name, the renovated building was described in November 2001 by The New York Times saying, "Serene and spare, the 187-room hotel deftly blends European and Asian influences; shoji screens on the windows, Belgian linens on the beds."  The interior design by Rafael Viñoly included "a space for free chamber music performances."


In the renovation, the entrance to the hotel was moved from 31st Street to Madison Avenue.  Recently, the name was changed to Hotel AKA NoMad.

photographs by the author

Thursday, February 27, 2025

Thomas Poole's 1906 Harlem (Ascension) Presbyterian Church - 15 Mount Morris Park West


photograph by Jim Henderson
 

When the Harlem Presbyterian Church was organized on February 22, 1844, the district was bucolic, its landscape dotted with farms and summer estates.  A quarter of a century later, as its second building neared completion in February 1872, the New York Daily Herald described the congregation saying they, "though not numerous, are zealous and determined."

At the turn of the century, Harlem had been transformed.  Former farms and country estates were dissected by streets and avenues, and handsome brick and brownstone rowhouses lined the side streets.  On March 2, 1905, The Evening Post reported, "By a unanimous vote the congregation of the Harlem Presbyterian Church, One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street...last night decided to sell its present property and remove to One Hundred and Twenty-second Street and Mount Morris Park West."

On July 1, 1905, the Record & Guide reported that the congregation had hired T. H. Poole & Co. to design the structure, "to cost about $100,000."  (The figure would translate to about $3.5 million in 2025.)  The commission was a bit unusual for the 45-year-old British-born architect.  Thomas H. Poole was well-known for his ecclesiastical buildings, but this would be one of the few he designed for a non-Roman Catholic congregation.

Poole had previously married historical styles, as in his 1887 Church of St. Catherine of Genoa at 504 West 153rd Street, which blended elements of the Venetian Gothic and Flemish Renaissance Revival styles.  His design for the Harlem Presbyterian Church went further.  His eclectic Romanesque design was highly inspired by Moorish precedents, like the alternating colors of the brick-and-stone voussoirs and the overall appearance of a monumental Islamic gate.  Poole's design would have been startling enough had he stopped at that.  But he capped the structure with a copper-clad neo-Classical dome that could have been plucked from Rome.  

photograph by Jim Henderson

On October 1, 1905, The Sun reported, "The cornerstone of the Harlem Presbyterian Church...was laid yesterday afternoon in the presence of about 500 of the congregation and their friends."  The structure was dedicated the following year.

The Harlem Presbyterian Church soon formed an innovative and inclusive group--a club that welcomed men "of all religions."  On May 9, 1908, The New York Times reported on an upcoming series of "four Sunday evening meetings on popular subjects interesting to men."  Among the topics would be Senator Alfred R. Page's talk, "Who Governs the State of New York, the People or the Race-track Gamblers?" and Reverend Robert F. Y. Pierce's "illustrated address...on his recent experiences of life among the lowly."

A bronze rondel on the side facade depicts Noah's Ark surrounded by the church's name.  photo by Jim Henderson

The Harlem Presbyterian Church sat within an affluent neighborhood and weddings here were upscale affairs--the attendees alighting from their carriages in their finest silks and velvets.  On April 18, 1911, Frank McAllister and Irene Cunningham were married here.  The minister, Rev. John Lyon Caughey, "arranged a dramatic touch by having the lights low during the ceremony, the sexton being ordered to turn them on full as he pronounced the couple man and wife."

Caughey's sense of the theatrical created an opportunity for a passing thief.  In the dim light of the sanctuary, he stole the overcoat and the silk top hat of the best man, John Knoeczny.  In reporting the incident, the Utica [New York] Daily Press editorialized, "Any man who would break in on a wedding party after that fashion should be sent up for life."

On May 23, 1915, The Sun reported, "The Harlem Presbyterian church at 122d street and Mount Morris avenue, and the New York Presbyterian Church, at 127th street and Seventh avenue, are permitted to consolidate."  The article mentioned, "The churches are two of the oldest uptown congregations, the Harlem church being incorporated in 1844 and the New York church in 1835."  The blended congregations, which became the Harlem-New York Presbyterian Church, remained in the Mount Morris Park West building.

The blended congregation celebrated its centennial on October 4, 1931.  Members might have expected Rev. Dr. Andrew Richards to wax nostalgic in his sermon.  Instead, while folks often yearn for "the good old days," he said, "The probability is if we had one of those good old days with us again we would long for the return of the 'bad new times' again."

At the time of Rev. Richards's musing, the demographics of Harlem had greatly changed.  Eleven years later, Richards's replacement, Rev. Ralph W. Key, explained, "the rapidly changing neighborhood...made the problem of sustaining the membership, attendance and finances increasingly difficult."  The condition resulted in the request to merge with the Rutgers Presbyterian Church, as reported by The New York Times on February 10, 1942.  The congregation moved downtown and the article said, "The church in Harlem will be turned over to the church extension committee of the presbytery."

The building would not sit vacant for long.  That year, the Presbytery of New York proposed a black Presbyterian congregation.  Organized by Rev. Arthur Eugene Adair, the Mount Morris Ascension Presbyterian Church opened here in 1943.

Rev. Adair was assisted by his wife, Dr. Thelma Davison Adair in the congregation's outreach within the neighborhood.  The church's Community Life Center, which provided day-care, was opened in 1944.  Dr. Adair organized a Head Start branch, which assisted with early learning, in 1965.

Maintaining the large structure became a problem.  The arched, stained glass windows of Thomas H. Poole's Vatican-like dome leaked.  In fear that they would "cave in on worshipers," according to The New York Times, they were removed.  A church elder, Olivia Williams, reminisced wistfully to The New York Times's Douglas Martin on August 11, 1996, "You should have seen it when it had stained-glass windows."

At the turn of the century, space within the building was leased to the Presbyterian Church of Ghana.  The congregation brought a little of Ghana to Harlem--one member, Kwasi Ohene, setting up shop outside before services.  On April 18, 2004, The New York Times remarked, "Spread on the sidewalk were rows of fat yams from Ghana, tins of Africa Queen-brand mackerel and red palm oil for cooking.  He fully [i.e., Ohene] expected to sell out."

photograph by Jim Henderson

The Mount Morris Ascension Presbyterian Church faced challenges.  On May 25, 2010, The New York Times reported, "leaders are struggling to fill the pews and the church's many programs and services."  Nevertheless, it and its remarkable Thomas H. Poole building--one of the most unique in New York City--continue to survive.

Wednesday, February 26, 2025

The 1844 Abram Bassford House - 26 Jones Street

 
Jane S. Paradise moved into the three-story house at 26 Jones Street in 1844 at a time when 
Greek Revival was nudging aside the Federal style in architectural domestic fashion.  One of a short row of nearly identical homes, the construction and lot of 26 Jones Street cost the developer $3,800, or about $160,000 in 2025 terms.  It was faced in brick and trimmed in brownstone.  Its entrance sat within a frame of stone pilasters that upheld an unusually high entablature.  The elegant doorway was flanked by narrow sidelights and an ample transom allowed natural light into the foyer.

The original entrance frame survived as late as 1941.  image via the NYC Dept of  Records & Information Services.

It is possible that Jane S. Paradise operated the residence as a boarding house in the early years.  Living here in 1845 were Julius Cogswell, a currier; and James Meinell, Jr., whose profession was listed as "tools."  Robert Morris, a peddler, occupied the smaller house in the rear yard that year.

Before long, however, Abram Bassford purchased 26 Jones Street.  Born around 1795, Bassford dealt in billiard tables and piano fortes.  His substantial operation was reflected in his three locations at 63-65 Centre Street, 8 Ann Street, and 603 Broadway.  An 1851 advertisement boasted that the Bassford billiard table was "best in the world--first premium at World's Fair."  (The spectacular Great Exhibition was held in Hyde Park in London.)  By the time of the ad, Abram Bassford, Jr. was affiliated with the company.  Two years later, the American Art Journal noted, "Abram Bassford's Grand and Square pianos were awarded the prize medals at our first World's Fair, held at the Crystal Palace, New York."

Bassford and his wife had at least three other children, a son and two daughters.  William K. Bassford was described by  the American Art Journal as, "the distinguished American song composer."  Born on April 23, 1839, William was for a time the organist of St. Bartholomew Church.  He wrote several secular songs, a mass, and a two-act opera, Cassilda.

Abram Bassford was involved in a puzzling conflict with the city in 1858.  Bassford submitted his bill to the Finance Committee of the Board of Education for "a piano-forte now in use in Ward School No. 3, in the Ninth Ward."  Without giving a reason, the minutes of the Board noted on May 5, 1858, "Resolved, That the bill of Abram Bassford, for a piano, be not paid by this Board."

On June 13, 1864, Abram Bassford, Sr. died "suddenly," according to The New York Times.  The term suggested a heart attack or stroke.  His funeral was held in the parlor on June 15.  At the time, both daughters were married.  One of them had wed grocer Henry Evesson, Jr. and the couple was living with the family at the time of Bassford's death.

It appears that Abram Bassford, Jr. was not able to attend his father's funeral.  He was a member of Company C, 12th Regiment, which was present at the surrender at Harper's Ferry in September 1862.  On October 3, 1865, The New York Times reported that Bassford had been promoted to first lieutenant.

By 1867, the Rev. Selig Lisner family occupied 26 Jones Street.  Sons George and David were partners in George Lisner & Brother.  They operated three fancygoods stores at 301 Canal Street, 323 Canal Street, and 837 Broadway.  (Fancygoods stores were different from a general or drygoods store in that they sold a range of items like ribbons, buttons, ceramic figurines and such.)

That year Moritz and Adeline Meyers boarded with the family.  Interestingly, Adeline was a partner with her husband in their shoe business.  When they moved on in 1869, an advertisement on April 1 listed, "To Let--The lower part of a fine private house, with all modern improvements, 26 Jones street, near Sixth avenue and Fourth street."

The advertisement was answered by Joseph and Hannah Alden.  He was a butcher in the Clinton Market.  Hannah died here at the age of 68 on November 20, 1873.  Her funeral was held in the house on November 23.  Joseph remained here until 1874, when the house was sold to Adam May, a milk dealer.

The Mays took in several boarders.  Living with the family in 1876 were two widows, Eliza Brown and Clara Rice, and John H. Morten, a carpenter.  In 1879, the Allen family boarded here.  Edward was a carpenter, Eugene was a laborer, and George Allen was an express driver.  Two other drivers, John Britton and Joseph Mason, also boarded with the Mays.

George and Emma Schenk were boarding here in March 1899 when they purchased 26 Jones Street from Adam May.  The price was $11,006, or about $412,000 in 2025 terms.

The Schenks leased the house to Greenwich House.  Described by its founder Mary Kingsbury Simkhovitch as a "Cooperative Social Settlement Society," it opened on Thanksgiving Day in 1902.  Among the trustees were reformer Jacob Riis, Carl Schurz and Felix Adler, and financial supporters included Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney and Frieda S. Warburg.

According to Gerald W. McFarland in his Inside Greenwich Village

The house at 26 Jones Street needed a thorough cleaning, interior painting, repairs, and the services of a pest exterminator before it was ready for occupancy in November 1902.  Simkhovitch had recruited a staff of fifteen residents, eight women and seven men...She, her family, and five women residents moved into 26 Jones, with the young women assigned small bedrooms on the building's third floor.  A visitor during the first year reported that each woman was provided with the bare necessities (a chair, a table, a chiffonier, a bed, and bedding) and encouraged to supplement these items with 'pictures, rugs, hangings, desks, etc." acquired on her own.

The work within the impoverished neighborhood was reflected in an article in The Evening Post on June 12, 1903.  "The residents of Greenwich House, a social settlement at No. 26 Jones Street, are anxious to have two baby carriages, which they could lend to poor women of the neighborhood who are now unable to take their babies to the adjacent parks."

Dr. William H. Tolman, in his 1903 The Better New York, noted that the Greenwich House works "on a different basis from that ordinarily adopted by social settlements.  It believes that the neighborhood about a settlement should be represented on the board of managers, and also believes in the co-responsibility of residents, workers and non-residents."

A grainy 1905 photograph captures prim shutters on the windows as children played on the sidewalk and street.  The Commons, March 1905 (copyright expired) 

After renting the property for three years, on October 21, 1905, the Record & Guide reported that George Schenck had transferred title to The Co-operative Settlement Society of City New York.

An article in the 1905 issue of The Commons explained that "clubs, classes and social gatherings meet" here, and in "the basement there is a middle room absolutely dark by day but having a big old-fashioned fireplace in it.  This is the comfortable den where the settlement household gathers after dinner for coffee and where those who are not rushing away to committees or clubs, may sit down and gossip awhile."

The rear house, in which Robert Morris lived in 1845, was rented "by one of the residents who uses it as a studio and generously allows the rest of the household to come and sit by the open fire," said the article.  It noted, "This little hidden building is typical of the charm of this old quarter, speaking of the past that is giving place to a new and different life."

When Greenwich House moved into 26 Jones Street, the neighborhood was one of the densest in the city.  Mary Kingsbury Simkhovitch told The Commons, "Since that time the racial character of our block was changed radically."  Of the 296 families on the street, she said, "115 are Italians."  She pointed out, "There are living in Jones Street today representatives of eight different nationalities."

Children played by the rear yard of 26 Jones Street, while in the background others can seen in the "sand box."  The Commons, March 1905 (copyright expired)

Among the services provided to these immigrant families was the Tenants' Manual.  The handbook gave information about laws regarding "eviction, desertion and non-support, installment sales, child labor, etc."  Other information included, "prevention of the spread of diseases," along with the locations of museums, schools, places of amusements, and such.  Here women and children were instructed in classes of sewing, cooking, "fresh air work," and there was a kindergarten.  By the time of The Commons article, Greenwich Settlement had expanded into 28 Jones Street.  The rear yard of that property was described as "The Farm."

The varied ethnicity of the neighborhood was reflected in an exhibition here in 1908 of items that immigrants had brought from their native lands.  The New-York Tribune reported on May 28, "Wonderful bed covers, aprons and towels and strange looking caps, all loaded with embroidery; curious carved things of wood; brasses that no collector can see without getting green with envy."  The items originated not only from the expected countries like Italy and Ireland, but included brasses from Russia, a bronze mirror from China, and a Viking bowl from Norway.

In 1917 Greenwich House moved into its new building at 27 Barrow Street.  Around 1940, 26 Jones Street was renovated to three apartments.  It was most likely at this time that the pilasters of the entrance frame were shaved flat.  

No. 26 Jones Street and the two abutting houses were owned cooperatively by eight families.  Among the residents of No. 26 were James Hammond Black, a partner in the Wall Street law firm Sowers, Herrick & Black, and his wife, Irma Simonton Black.  She was a writer and editor of children's books.

Irma Simonton Black joined the faculty of Bank Street College of Education in 1942.  She created a series of school books that transitioned the well-known Dick and Jane type of primers to contemporary urban settings.

After 40 years at the Bank Street College of Education, Irma, who was the chairman of publications and communications for the facility, planned to retire in August 1972.  In June that year, James traveled to Savannah, Georgia to attend a wedding.  He returned on June 18 to discover a tragedy.

Two hours before he arrived, two neighbors, Hope Dibbell and Tony Buttita, noticed a broken window in the basement.  They went to the Blacks' third floor apartment where they found the door open and Irma's dead body, clad in pajamas, on the living room floor.  Police surmised the 66-year-old had surprised a burglar in the apartment.  The New York Times reported that the murdered author "was stabbed with a scissors and a large knife as well as with a carving fork."


There are still three units within the house.  Other than the modified entrance frame, the venerable residence and an important part of Greenwich Village history is outwardly little changed.

photographs by the author

Tuesday, February 25, 2025

The Saxony and DeWitt Court Apts. -- 250-254 West 82nd Street




In 1911, Warren Cady Crane founded Ye Olde Settlers’ Association of the West Side in a panicked attempt to halt the demolition of brick and brownstone residences—most only 30 years old—to clear the way for lavish apartment buildings.  Crane was about a decade too late.

More than anyplace else in the city, residents of the Upper West Side had heartily embraced apartment house living.  Buildings that held apartments the size of private homes did away with the expense and bother of large domestic staffs.

It was a movement that developer Albert Saxe (who also spelled his name “Sachs”) recognized early on.  On May 20, 1899, the Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide announced that he had commissioned the architectural firm of Stein, Cohen & Roth to design a seven-story “brick and stone semi-fireproof flat.”  The estimated cost of was $200,000—in the neighborhood of $7.5 million in 2025.

The 28-year-old Emery Roth was a fledgling partner in the firm.  He had worked in the office of Richard Morris Hunt until that architect’s death in 1895.  He moved on to the office of Ogden Codman, Jr. who designed and decorated the homes of Manhattan’s and Newport’s socially elite.  Now, working with Theodore G. Stein and E. Yancey Cohen, he took on Saxe’s project.  While plans were filed under the firm’s name, architectural historians agree that The Saxony would be the first apartment building designed by Roth.

The Saxony, situated on the southwest corner of Broadway and West 82nd Street, was completed in 1900.  Emery Roth had produced a Beaux Arts confection of red brick and white limestone meant to reflect the social and financial status of its residents.  The two-story rusticated stone base housed retail stores on the Broadway side.  The residential entrance, flanked by tall lampposts and sheltered by a glass-and-iron canopy, was located on the less public 82nd Street.

The Saxony offered the conveniences of a private home, as well as staff employed by the management—like the “liveried hall service night and day.”  Each apartment consisted of “nine rooms, two bath rooms, butler’s pantries and private halls” according to a 1901 advertisement.  It boasted, “The parlors are unusually attractive, being finished in white and gold; they have paneled walls, with high paneled base, and ceilings enriched with ornamental relief work, motif being Louis XVI.”

Depending on the floor, tenants would pay an annual rent of either $1,500 or $2,000.  The latter would translate to a significant $6,000 per month in 2025.

The paint was barely dry before Albert Saxe sold The Saxony.  Morris K. Jessup owned the Forres, a similar building abutting The Saxony to the south.  He negotiated Saxe’s $375,000 asking price down to $355,000, netting Saxe a handsome profit nonetheless.  Saxe started on another building “similar to the Saxony apartment house,” according to the New-York Tribune, on the southwest corner of Broadway and 77th Street.

Among the first tenants of The Saxony was William R. Corwine, a visible member of the Merchants’ Association of New-York.  Following a devastating hurricane in 1899 in Puerto Rico, he was appointed Secretary of the Central Porto Rican Relief Committee by the Secretary of War, Russell A. Alger.

Corwine was, as well, an ardent William McKinley supporter; partly based on his merchant’s point of view.  On June 20, 1900 he mailed off a letter to the editor of the New-York Tribune which said, in part, “I have no doubt that if we will all pull together with a good, long, strong pull, Mr. McKinley can be re-elected by a majority that will show to the world that this Nation is alive to the changed conditions, and that we intend to make every possible effort to expand the sale of our manufactured products in every portion of the globe.”

In 1902, William R. Corwine would find himself testifying to the Congressional Committee on Ways and Means during its hearings on Reciprocity with Cuba.

When designer Gustav F. Lang moved into The Saxony in 1902, construction was well underway on another lavish apartment building next door at No. 254—the DeWitt Court.   Designed by Neville & Bagge, it was the project of developer Jesse C. Bennett.  It was the beginning of what would be an unpredictable connection between the two unrelated buildings.

In the meantime, Gustav F. Lang submitted two of his works to the Architectural League of New York’s annual exhibition that year—a “design of electric light” and a “design for plate.”   Other residents at the time were Samuel Gottlieb and his wife, Julia.  Julia’s widowed mother, Yvette Rothschild, had moved in with them.  The 81-year-old died here in June 1902.

Peter Gardner was described by The Financial Red Book of America simply as a “capitalist.”  The socially visible Chester Ingersoll Richards and his wife had moved into The Saxony from Brooklyn Heights by 1905.  That year, on December 17, she announced in the society pages that she was “at home” on “second Fridays until May.”

An iron gate separates The Saxony and its new neighbor DeWitt Court.  photo by Wurtz Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York  http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult&VBID=24UAYWFVPC4S&SMLS=1&RW=1536&RH=770

The DeWitt Court was completed in 1903 and offered apartments which, according to an August 9 advertisement, were “like a private residence.”  Each apartment—there was just one per floor—featured nine rooms and three baths.  The parlors were 25-feet long by 15.6-feet wide and the kitchens were an amazing 23 by 10 feet.

Even before the DeWitt Court was completed, its owner, Jesse C. Bennett, was managing The Saxony.  Before long the two buildings would share advertising space.

DeWitt Court sat behind The Saxony on the 82nd Street side.

Like its next door neighbor, the Dewitt Court attracted wealthy businessmen.  One of these was Mark Rapalsky, president and Director of the Constant Battery Co., and a director of the Richard Realty Co., the Willet Realty Co., the Huron Realty Co., and the Imperial Realty Co.

Following his wife’s tragic suicide on May 10, 1905, Benjamin Strong, Jr. moved into the DeWitt Court.  The wealthy banker was secretary of the Bankers’ Trust Company of New York, director of the Bank of Montclair (New Jersey), director of the North Star Mines Co., and a director of the Rochester and Sodus Bay Railroad Co.

Sharing Strong's apartment was his son, Archibald McIntyre Strong, who graduated from Princeton in 1906.   By 1918, Benjamin Strong would rise to position of head of the Federal Reserve Bank.

Perhaps no one in either building entertained as lavishly as did Mrs. Chester Ingersoll Richards.  Her entertainments were regularly followed in the society pages.  The Richards apartment was often the scene of the meetings of the Wednesday Morning Bridge and Luncheon Club.  At these events society women played bridge for expensive prizes—silver picture frames, linen handkerchiefs or a “fancy bonbon box,” for instance.

On October 1, 1910, Harriett Virginia Fischer was married to T. Arthur Nosworthy, Jr. in All Angels’ Church.  Her father, Bernardo F. Fischer was one of the brothers who headed the Fischer Piano Company.  Following the ceremony the reception was held in the Fischers’ apartment in The Saxony.  Bernardo Franklin Fischer would die in the apartment three years later on September 13, 1913.

The DeWitt Court saw several esteemed doctors take apartments.  Drs. George Wyeth and Arthur Bookman were both here by 1911.  Their papers were regularly published in medical journals and Bookman would remain in the building for decades.  A 1914 advertisement in Country Life magazine noted that the ground floor apartments were “especially desirable for use of physician[s].”

At the end of January 1914, Robert B. Dula purchased both buildings.  He sold them two weeks later as a package.  The informal connection of the two structures was now a marriage, one for which divorce was not in the cards.


As the United States was pulled into World War I, several of the younger men living in the buildings left to serve their country.  Among them were Lloyd Adolph Wimpfheimer, Mortimore Steinhardt, and Gustav Lang (who in 1902 had exhibited his designs to the Architectural League).   Not all of them would return. 

On August 20, 1918, 27-year-old Lt. Mortimore Steinhardt’s parents, who lived in the DeWitt Court, were notified that he had been gassed on May 20 and he was “severely wounded.”  Less than three months later, word was received that Corporal Gustav F. Lang had died of wounds received in France.

Along with doctors, bankers and businessmen, the West Side buildings had their share of residents from the arts.  Maia Bang lived in The Saxony with her husband C. E. Hohn.  The internationally-known violinist wrote the Maia Bang Violin Method, an instructional book still in use today.  In 1919, she advertised that she “will accept a limited number of pupils” in her studio here.

And another long-term resident of The Saxony was former actress Mrs. Grace Hall Chase Kramer.  She had performed with the Booth and Barrett Theatrical Company and, now retired, maintained her memberships in the Episcopal Actors Guild and the Catholic Actors Guild.  She lived here with her husband Edwin G. Kramer until her death on March 29, 1932.

Leo S. Jacoby was an insurance salesman who lived in The Saxony for decades.  Among his clients were entertainers like Al Jolson, Richard Bennett and Harry Richmond.  

A rather eyebrow-raising death occurred in The Saxony on May 6, 1921.  William Becker, an electrical engineer, and his wife had divorced.  Taking her maiden name, Katherine Miller now had an apartment here.   That night police were called to her apartment where they found Becker dead, his wrist slashed.

According to Katherine, her ex-husband had showed up around 3:00 that afternoon.  Believing him to be drunk, she said, she “did not interfere when he walked into a bedroom and shut the door.”  Four hours later, she knocked on the door and, getting no response, entered.  According to the New-York Tribune, “Entering the room she found that a chandelier had been broken and that her former husband’s right wrist had been cut by the shattered glass.”  Despite the questionable circumstances, the Medical Examiner pronounced death due to accidental causes.

By the time Leo S. Jacoby died at the age of 92 in 1965, the buildings had been sold and resold as a package several times.  They had both seen change from their former glory days, as well.  In 1945, Department of Buildings records showed that the massive apartments in The Saxony had been divided into 21 and 23 “single room occupancy” rooms per floor. 

In 1951, a Dewitt Court tenant, 50-year-old Ramon Rosario was convicted of international drug trafficking, along with what The New York Times called, “thirteen henchmen.”  Members of the Federal Narcotics Bureau said, “the smashed ring was the largest encountered in a decade.”  Rosario received 15 years in prison and an $11,000 fine, reported to be “the stiffest narcotics sentence ever imposed in Federal Court here,” according to The New York Times.

But happier days were to come.  In 1969, The Saxony was converted to, for the most part, one and two co-op apartments per floor.   Nevertheless, purchasers were sometimes faced with significant renovations.  When architects Jerry and Mary Overly Davis purchased their seven-room coop in The Saxony in 1995, they told Tracie Rozhon from The New York Times, “They were only showing the apartment to architects and contractors—people who could deal with its condition.”

The Saxony is still emblazoned above the now-sealed 82nd Street entrance.

Today, following a subsequent 2006 renovation that resulted in three apartments per floor in both buildings, The Saxony and the DeWitt Court have recaptured their original grandeur.  After having been treated as a unit by real estate men for a century, the two buildings now are physically connected by a common entrance in the former service alley.  The entrance to No. 250 has been sealed off, but SAXONY is still emblazoned in its ornately carved cartouche dripping with swags and garlands.

photographs by the author