Real estate developer Charles Gahren commissioned Thom & Wilson to design a row of five-story flats on the northeast corner of Ninth Avenue (later renamed Columbus Avenue) and 87th Street in 1889. They were completed in 1890, a successful blend of Romanesque Revival and Renaissance Revival styles. The easternmost building, 59 West 87th Street, stood out from the row, with a full-height, three-sided bay. The lower two floors were faced in brownstone, its impressive arched entrance sitting above a short stoop. Purely Romanesque Revival in style, clustered colonnettes supported the intricately carved layered arch. The spandrels and entablature were filled with equally elaborate medieval inspired carvings.
For the upper four floors, Thom & Wilson turned to the Renaissance, their reserved decoration relying on honeycomb brick panels; creative, scale-like brickwork between the central panel between the fourth and fifth floors; and brownstone courses.
There were two apartments per floor, front and back. An advertisement described, "Extra large apartments, 26 x 90; seven rooms, bath; butler's pantry, and private hall."
Among the initial residents was Benjamin Graham, who suffered a terrifying ordeal on January 2, 1895. Decades before the advent of efficient snow removal, carriages gave way to sleighs on city streets after snowfalls. That afternoon, the banker was riding in a sleigh driven by a colleague, John Quinn, along 120th Street when the horse panicked and galloped wildly. The New York World reported that Mounted Policeman Andrews saw the runaway and, "noticed that the bit had broken and the headstall had fallen off. How to stop the animal was a puzzler to Andrews, but only for a moment."
The alarmed men could only hold on as the horse took them on the frightening ride. Then, astoundingly, Andrews "got his horse into the roadway, held the reins in his teeth and as the sorrel dashed by he reached over and seized him by the windpipe." The horses ran side-by-side and into Central Park with the policeman continuing to keep a grip on the runaway's throat.
The World reported, "Scores of sleighs, carriages and rigs of every description were on the drive, but the shouts of the onlookers warned their drivers in advance and they pulled aside." Eventually, Andrew's tactic worked and the runaway horse, unable to breathe, fell to its knees, gasping for air. Graham and Quinn, "jumped out and shook hands with Andrews, thanking him expressively for saving them from possible death," said the article.
George Obermeyer, his wife and their four-year-old son, were also early residents. Born in 1856, Obermeyer was a partner of the dye manufacturing firm Charles Fischer & Co. In December 1902, he went to the tax office downtown and complained that he had been over assessed for personal property. The New York Times reported, "on the strength of his affidavit," he was taxed on a revised personal worth of $2,400. (The original figure was $5,000.) The article added, "The Tax Commissioners thought nothing of the circumstance."
George Obermeyer's guilty conscience did, however, think about the circumstance. Over the next week or so, he suffered with "nervous prostration," according to his doctor. His condition became so bad that a nurse was called in.
Finally, on January 28, 1903, Obermeyer returned to the tax office with his attorney. He confessed that he had "inadvertently" made incorrect statements. "He should be taxed on $38,000, he said, instead of on $2,400," reported The New York Times. It was a significant difference--his revised personal worth would equal $1.4 million today, as compared with the former $88,300.
Despite rectifying his attempted transgression, the shame of his actions haunted Obermeyer. Early on the morning of January 30, while his nurse was sleeping, he disconnected the rubber tube from a reading lamp and inserted the end into his mouth. He died from inhaling the gas.
Another tragic resident was Pauline Drastler. Following the death of her husband, Dr. Franz Drastler, she moved into an apartment here with her daughter and son-in-law, Adolph Amend. The daughter died in 1904 and Pauline and Amend continued to share the apartment, The New York Press saying, that he lavishes "on Mrs. Drastler, friends, say, every attention he could to make her happy."
But Pauline Drastler's world was turned upside down when Adolph Amend remarried in February 1910 and moved with his bride to Gramercy Park. Not only did the marriage disturb Pauline (The New York Times said it "seems to have grieved Mrs. Drastler"), the lease, which was in Amend's name, was due to expire on August 1. The upheaval in her life was too much for the 62-year old to bear.
At 9:00 a.m. on August 1, the day Pauline Drastler was scheduled to move out, the janitress, Mrs. Johnson, noticed the apartment door was ajar. She looked inside and noticed that all Pauline's things were packed up, but she also smelled gas. The New York Times remarked, "Tracing this, she found Mrs. Drastler lying on the bed in an inner room in the seven-room apartment, lifeless."
In the meantime, Adolph Amend received a letter from Pauline, telling him that she intended to commit suicide. The New York Press said, "Amend received it too late to interfere to save her life." The newspaper titled the article, "Dies Rather Than Move From Home She Had Loved."
By the first decade of the 20th century, architect William Burnet Tuthill, his wife, the former Henrietta Elizabeth Corwin, and their son, Burnet Corwin, occupied an apartment here. The family maintained a country home in Newburgh, New York. Born in Hoboken, New Jersey in 1855, Tuthill trained in the office of Richard Morris Hunt before opening his own office in 1878. A founder of the Architectural League of New York, he served on the Art Commission of the Chicago Columbia Exposition in 1893. Perhaps his most notable design was the 1891 Carnegie Hall.
The year 1917 would bring Tuthill great joy and crippling grief. On January 2, the New York Herald reported that Burnet was married the previous day to Helen Hersey in Denver, Colorado. Just two months later, on March 11, Henrietta died in the West 87th Street apartment at the age of 65.
(Burnet Corwin Tuthill, incidentally, became a well-known conductor and composer, co-founding the National Association of Schools of Music and organizing the the Memphis Symphony Orchestra, of which he was its first conductor.)
William Burnet Tuthill became ill in July 1929. He died at the Newburgh home at the age of 74 on August 26 that year.
In the meantime, Fire Chief John Kenlon and his wife, the former Kathryn Fitzgerald, lived here as early as 1918. Born in 1859, Kenlon went to sea as a "ship's boy" in 1873 on the coal schooner Gazelle. He sailed for 14 years, eventually becoming the captain of the yacht of a millionaire. His employer offered to get him a post in the Fire Department when plans for a southern cruise were cancelled.
Kenlon was appointed chief in 1911. The New York Times would later remark, "He saw fire fighting as a science rather than a romantic game. He established and became first president of the Fire College." In 1922 he pushed for a law requiring gas cut-offs outside houses as a safety measure.
Kenlon retired in 1931 holding the longest tenure in the department's history. He and Kathryn moved to Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, where he died on May 30, 1940.
Like the Kenlons, Stephen McFarland, founder of the Central Cigar Company, had lived at 59 West 87th Street as early as 1918. Born in Ireland on August 12, 1853, he came to New York at the age of 28. The immigrant firebrand immediately involved himself with Irish Independence. He became active in the Irish Land League and was a contributor to causes promoting Irish freedom. Through his activities, he became well acquainted with Charles Stewart Parnell, the Irish leader. McFarland was, as well, a member of the Irish-American Historical Society, the National Council of the Friends of Irish Freedom, the Tammany Society, the Holy Name Society and the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick.
He and his wife, Mary, had four sons, Joseph, John, Myles and Stephen; and a daughter Anna. An ardent Democrat and a member of the general committee of Tammany Hall, McFarland was a delegate to the Democratic National Convention in 1884, 1888, 1892 and 1896.
image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services
Stephen McFarland died in the apartment on October 28, 1929. Still living with his parents was Joseph. All the other children were married by then. Stephen McFarland's concern about his son's bachelorhood was clearly reflected in his will. On November 5, The New York Times titled an article, "Must Wed To Get Father's Legacy." It went on to explain that Joseph's portion of the estate would be held in trust. The funds would be paid to him, "if and when he gets married."
The nation's attention was directed to 59 West 87th Street in 1938. Dr. Ignatz T. Griebl and his wife, Maria, immigrated to America from Munich in 1924. He established an obstetrics practice here. But as the Nazi movement grew in power in Germany, Griebel became the head of a spy network. He joined the U. S. Army Reserves, recruiting spies among young German-Americans.
On June 8, 1938, Federal officials arrived at 59 West 87th Street to arrest Griebl, but found him gone. The New York Evening Post reported that Maria Griebl was arrested "after admitting she had planned to take the 'first boat' out of the country." The article said that she, "admitted having sent a trunk of his effects to him in Germany since he arrived there and that she also planned to send his automobile to him--evidence that he does not intend to return to this country."
As the war drew to an end, Dr. Ignatz Griebl was recognized while applying for a travel permit from the Allied Military Government on August 19, 1945. Once again he escaped. He remained a fugitive under indictment for espionage until March 14, 1950, when the U.S. Government dropped the case.
At time when sprawling 19th century apartments were being split up to multiple units, a renovation to 59 West 87th Street went the opposite way. In 1996, the two apartments per floor were combined to one, resulting in a total of five apartments in the building today.
photographs by the author
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