At the turn of the last century, residents in the Stuyvesant Park neighborhood saw the beginnings of a transformation, as private homes were being replaced with upscale apartment buildings. On March 8, 1902, the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that two more residences, 206 and 208 East 17th Street, had been purchased by Isidor Mishkind and "a six-story flat will be erected."
Mishkind and his partner William Feinberg hired the architectural firm of Sass & Smallheiser to design the 44-foot-wide building. The plans, filed in September, projected the cost of construction at $65,000, or about $2.37 million in 2025. Completed the following year, The Rutherford was faced in beige brick above a rusticated limestone base. The entrance was sheltered by a handsome portico supported by Ionic columns and pilasters. The architects gave the building dimension by gently rounding the end bays. They splashed the Renaissance Revival design with touches of Beaux Arts, like the richly carved oval windows on either side of the entrance.
Apartments in The Rutherford ranged from three to five rooms with a bath. An advertisement stressed that it sat within a "refined residential section" and boasted an elevator. A five-room apartment cost $42, an affordable $1,500 per month by today's conversion.
Among the early residents was Benjamin Thackara and his wife. He was the "outside superintendent" of the Tiffany Studios Building and was in charge of its physical maintenance.
The Thackaras were already here when Jean N. McIlwraith and Imogen Harding moved into the building in 1904. According to Eva-Marie Kröller's Writing the Empire, The McIlwraiths, 1853-1948, McIlwraith had to share the apartment because she "had to count her pennies."
Imogene was a music student and the women's apartment had a piano. According to Kröller, both joined the choir at nearby St. George's Church on Stuyvesant Square. McIlwraith worked for publishing companies, eventually becoming head reader at Doubleday, Page and Co. She would write children's books, an opera, and historical romance novels.
Edward B. Schmalholz, was presumably living here alone when McIlwraith and Harding moved in. He was described by The New York Times as "a well-to-do butcher" whose shop was at 73 Third Avenue. The previous year, his wife, Margaret, left with their two children, ten-year-0ld Theodore and eight-year-old Edith. She and the children moved into the home of her sister and brother-in-law on West 83rd Street.
Schmalholz devised a dastardly scheme to end the monthly support he gave his wife. In the winter of 1904, Margaret attended an affair at the Waldorf-Astoria. She met a dashing young man, "who said he was Capt. Phillip K. Stone" of the U.S. Army, reported The New York Times. In fact, the soldier was Philip K. Sweet, a private detective.
Schmalholz visited the children every Wednesday, and during a visit the following summer, he said that Theodore looked sickly and offered Margaret $100 to take the children to Lake Placid. She was surprised to run into Captain Stone there. At one point Margaret sprained her ankle and Stone offered to help. The New York Times reported, "He was in the act of applying the ice, the children being in another room, when the door was broken in and Mrs. Schmalholz's husband and several other men rushed in."
Edward Schmalholz filed divorce papers, naming Stone as her lover. Margaret charged him for conspiracy, exposing Stone and Sweet as the same person and alleging, "her husband wants to get out of paying further alimony and desires to be free to marry a woman who is now living at 206 West Seventeenth Street." (The woman who answered a reporter's call to Schmalholz's apartment identified herself as the housekeeper.)
Joseph J. Evans and his wife had a remarkable houseguest in 1906--Evans's mother-in-law Hepsa Daggett Cottle. Born in 1809, Cottle lived on Nob Hill in San Francisco. When the earthquake and subsequent fires destroyed her house "almost around my ears," as she described the disaster, she found herself homeless. And so, the 97-year-old (who had never been in an automobile) drove cross-country to visit the Evanses. The Sun said, "After trying a short ride about town she motored to Boston and back and enjoyed the trip hugely."
Abraham Levi was the partner of Isaac Picker in their importing business at 12 Union Square. The two men were arrested early in 1912 for receiving stolen goods after a bizarre investigation. Fifteen reels of silent films had been stolen during a break-in at the General Film Company on Sixth Avenue. Detectives suspected 20-year-old Victor Weiss and trailed him as he repeatedly visited Levi and Picker. But he never carried anything into the shop.
Finally, detectives detained Weiss at 14th Street and Sixth Avenue as he neared Levi and Picker's office. In its March 1912 issue, Moving Picture News reported, "After a cursory search, they found no stolen property on him and were about to release him when one of the detectives opened the youth's vest." Weiss had spirited the movies one-by-one by winding the film around his body. The article said, "An end of the film dropped down. After removing Weiss' overcoat and coat the detectives spun him around like a top until the film was unrolled."
The occupants of The Rutherford continued to be professional. Living here in the years before World War I were pharmacist Eugene C. Osborn, whose drugstore was at 131 Third Avenue; pathologist Dr. James G. Callison; and artist William Grimm. Dr. Callison would still be here in the mid-1920s when Dr. Sandor Roth occupied an apartment.
Living here six months a year in the early 1930s was Amandus Hochman, who had served in the Prussian Army during the War of 1870. He came to America in 1873 and had worked as a bank guard. Now he divided his time between his daughter's family here in The Rutherford and his other daughter's farm in Hopewell, New Jersey.
On January 7, 1935, the superintendent of the building told The New York Post that Amandus Hochman, was "taken back to New Jersey yesterday by State troopers, who came here for him in a car." The 87-year-old Hochman was not in trouble. He was being escorted to testify in the trial of the Charles Lindbergh baby kidnapping. The New York Post said Hochman, who was "quite feeble," was "prepared to take the witness stand and identify Bruno Richard Hauptmann as a man he talked with on the night of the Lindbergh kidnapping."
Hochman testified that on the afternoon of the kidnapping, he witnessed Hauptmann stall his sedan by the road to his family's farm in Hopewell. He claimed he noticed a ladder in the car, presumably the one used to climb into the Lindbergh baby's window.
Grace Avery and her daughter, Elizabeth Harrison Avery, were residents in the early 1940s. Grace's husband, Commander Harrison Avery of the U.S. Navy, had died of a heart attack on board his patrol vessel in 1934. Grace's son, Harrison, Jr. was a cadet in the Army Air Force in Greensboro, North Carolina. As a child of a military family, Elizabeth had not only attended the Brooklyn Friends School and the Katharine Gibbs School, but the Shanghai American School in China. The military tradition continued within the family when Elizabeth married Ensign Adam A. Smyser in St. George's Church on Christmas Day 1943.
A renovation completed in 1974 resulted in four apartments per floor. Happily, the exterior of Sass & Smallheiser's "delightful, rather playful design," as worded by the Landmark Preservation Commission the following year, is almost totally intact.
photographs by the author