Rutherford Stuyvesant's 1879 104 East 10th Street

 

photograph by the author

Around 1846, a two-story office building was erected at 180 Tenth Street (renumbered 104 East 10th Street in 1865).  It sat on property owned by Peter Gerard Stuyvesant and his sister, Elizabeth.  The building would be used by Stuyvesant and his long-term real estate manager, Thomas Macfarlan, who lived next door at 178 Tenth.  Peter Gerard Stuyvesant died the following year, and his nephew, Hamilton Fish, took over the real estate operation.

In 1879, Rutherford Stuyvesant (a grand-nephew of Peter Gerard Stuyvesant and nephew of Hamilton Fish) replaced 104 East 10th Street with a three-story brick house.  The architectural firm, quite likely, was Peter T. O'Brien & Sons, which was simultaneously remodeling 102 East 10th Street next door for Rutherford.

Faced in red brick above a brownstone basement, the house straddled the Italianate and neo-Grec styles.  The molded lintels and stoop ironwork reflected the former, while the paneled doors and angular cornice brackets were pure neo-Grec.

Like many of the residents of the block, the first occupants of 104 East 10th Street rented their extra rooms.  An advertisement in the New York Herald on November 22, 1879 read:  "A private family will let, to gentlemen only, two handsomely furnished rooms, bath, fire in room and all the modern conveniences, in a new house, 104 East 10th st., between 2d and 3d avs."

The family continued to take in roomers, their advertisements clearly not offering meals.  One appeared in the New York Herald on May 14 that year read: 

A handsome furnished room to let; hot and cold running water; use of bath; in a private family; also use of parlor and piano; can be seen Sunday.

And the following year, on March 9, an advertisement offered: "Parlor--Southern exposure; two rooms on second floor; modern improvements; house heated; no moving in May; central location; good neighborhood."

As early as 1891, Dr. Franklin D. Lawson and his family occupied the house.  Born in Boston in 1866, he received his medical degree from Columbia University in 1890.  His wife was the former Pauline Nurnberger.

Lawson's passion for medicine was equaled--or surpassed--by his love of music.  Perhaps the first hint of that came in a letter to The Evening World's column, "Out of the Mail Bag" in August 1891.  The column answered readers questions.  Lawson wrote:

Is it allowable, according to law, for a professor of music to put on a card or sign the letters 'M.D.' after his name, which are to mean musical director?

(The editors replied that they knew of no such law.)

Lawson attempted to intercede in the death sentence of Carlyle W. Harris, who was convicted of murdering his wife in April 1893.  Lawson had known him since they were classmates in college.  He wrote a letter to Governor Roswell P. Flower, which the The New York Times encapsulated.  An article on April 9 said in part, "Speaking as a physician, he says that medical experts would not have convicted Harris upon the testimony brought out in his trial."  From a more personal perspective, "As a classmate he speaks of Harris in terms of warm admiration, and says that it is inconceivable to him that Harris could have been guilty of poisoning his wife."  And from a simply logical viewpoint, Lawson opined, "If he had wished to commit this crime he certainly would not have employed a poison so easily traceable as morphine."

Lawson's attempts to clear Harris were unsuccessful.  He was electrocuted in Sing Sing prison on May 7, 1893.

Shortly afterward, Dr. Lawson succumbed to the lure of music.  He traveled to Paris to study singing.  Upon returning to New York, he sang tenor solos in fashionable churches like St. Bartholomew's and St. Thomas's, and in 1902 became a member of the Metropolitan Opera.

In the meantime, 104 East 10th Street was home to Dr. Robert Theyson, who, like previous occupants, rented rooms.  Some were quite respectable, like a man named Savas, who hoped to become a baker.  His somewhat desperate sounding advertisement under "bakers" in the New York Journal and Advertiser on December 19, 1898 read: "Single, sober man, over 30, wants to learn trade, working six weeks for board, lodging; anywhere."

Other roomers were not so upstanding.  Alexander Leonard was arrested on September 13, 1904, "accused of receiving stolen goods," according to The New York Times.

Dr. Theyson was called to the home of Fred Luscher where he found C. B. Lynch "in a serious condition," as reported by The Daily Standard.  Luscher had severely beaten Lynch after he came home and found him hiding in a closet.  In court, Theyson testified that Lynch's condition was the result of "blows evidentially struck by fists."  Luscher defended himself to the court, saying "he has not approved of Lynch's attitude towards his wife."  The jury agreed and discharged Luscher.  They immediately charged Lynch with grand larceny, since there were valuables in the closet.

The house, along with 102 East 10th Street, was sold in January 1921.  The change of ownership did not greatly lessen the tenants' problems with the law. 

On July 19, 1926, Joseph Scheresson appeared in court with his bulldog to defend against charges made by Issie Lyons, who lived at 110 East 10th Street.  Lyons claimed that on July 10, the dog "ripped his brand new trousers and dug his teeth in his right leg," as reported by The New York Times.  The article said, "Entering the court room, Lyons limped and displayed in his hands a badly ripped pair of trousers."

Scheresson testified that at the time of the alleged attack, his dog was muzzled.  Calling Lyons's charges "spite work," he told the judge, "I'm 35 years old, and I never told a lie in my life."

Displaying Solomon-like wisdom, Magistrate Corrigan took Lyons into his chambers and had him take off his pants.  On the leg he alleged was bitten, was "a small red mark."  The New York Times reported, "The Magistrate said the bulldog must have had only one tooth and then dismissed the charge."

The Great Depression resulted in out-of-work vagrants, callously referred to at the time as "hobos" and "bums."  Oscar Mathews had worked in the Holland Hotel in Beacon, New York prior to the Crash.  Now, in 1932, he lived in a room here.  Somehow, he ended up back in Beacon on August 25.  At 3:20 the following morning, Officer Samuel Rogers "found him loitering in the vicinity of the New York Central railroad station," reported The Beacon News.  Officials in the town had no patience for out-of-town vagrants.  Mathews spent the night in jail and was released the following morning "on his promise to get out of town."

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

At some point in the second half of the century, the brick facade was painted beige and the brownstone painted white.  In 2016 a restoration to a single-family home was initiated by Michael K. Chen Architecture, PLLC.  Working with preservationist Katherine Redd, the facade was cleaned and repaired, and the ironwork restored.

image via Michael K. Chen Architecture, PLCC