The Elijah B. Middlebrook House - 121 East 78th Street

 

photograph by the author

Development of the Upper East and Upper West Sides began in earnest following the Civil War.  Around 1871 Nicholas McCool erected a row of identical Italianate-style homes on the north side of East 78th Street, between Lexington and Fourth Avenues (renamed Park Avenue in 1888).  Three bays wide and three stories tall above high English basements, they were intended for affluent families.

Beefy cast iron railings and newels protected the areaways and stoops.  Like the others, the arched entrance of 121 East 78th Street sat below a prominent triangular pediment upheld by foliate, scrolled corbels.  Smaller versions embellished the parlor windows.  The upper floor windows sat within molded architraves with cornices.

121 East 78th Street was originally identical to No. 127, seen here around 1912.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

McCool advertised 121 East 78th Street and two others on September 17, 1872:

Three high stoop brown stone houses, 119 and 121 East Seventy-eighth street, also 121 East Seventy-ninth street, within two blocks of Central Park, all of which will be sold cheap to prompt buyers.

The ad was answered by Dr. Elijah B. Middlebrook, who had just relocated to New York City from Connecticut.  Middlebrook owned "large blocks of real estate" in Bridgeport, Connecticut, according to The Evening World, which added that he was "considered a wealthy man."  

Born at "Long Hill," in Trumbull, Connecticut, Middlebrook was a graduate of Yale College.  His resume was not restricted to medicine.  At the age of 36 he owned a carriage factory and a large livery stable in Bridgeport.  He was as well, according to the New York Herald, "a farmer and a dealer in real estate."

Middlebrook was not living in New York by his own choice, however.  Shortly before purchasing 121 East 78th Street, he was embroiled in a court battle in Connecticut.  He assaulted attorney W. K. Seller in the courtroom and openly called him a liar.  Although Middlebrook paid a $600 fine (a significant $16,900 in 2026), the New York Herald reported that he "exiled himself from Bridgeport rather than endure the ignominy of imprisonment."  The Evening World said, "Dr. Middlebrook was compelled to remain out of the State or go to jail to serve out a sentence for contempt of Court."

Moving into the new house with her father was Annie A. Sewell.  It is unclear whether she was a young widow, or if her husband lived here as well.  However, when Annie died a year later on March 16, 1873 at the age of 30, her husband was not mentioned in her obituary.  Her funeral was held in the parlor on March 19.

Interestingly, when Middlebrook moved into 121 East 78th Street, he listed his profession as "physician."  In 1876, he changed it to "veterinarian surgeon."  And in 1879, he listed both: "physician" at 170 East 78th Street and "veterinarian surgeon" at 169 East 77th Street.

Among Middlebrook's servants in 1881 was Mary Lynch.  On the afternoon of January 18, she caught 13-year-old George Leonard slipping out of the house.  She alerted Dr. Middlebrook who had the teen arrested.  The New York Herald reported, "Nothing was stolen from the premises.  In the boy's pocket was found a night key."  Leonard was held in jail until it could be discerned if the key would open the locks of the Middlebrook house.

By 1884, Mary J. Perkins and her adult nephew, Frederick B. Sewell, lived in the house with Elijah Middlebrook.  It is unclear what their relationship, if any, was.  

Interestingly, on May 3, 1884 The American Architect and Building News reported that Middlebrook was erecting a two-story brick stable at 164-170 Eat 78th Street at a cost of $3,000 (just under $100,000 in 2026).  The plans named F. B. Sewell as the architect.

Dr. Elijah B. Middlebrook died in the East 78th Street house on April 1, 1889.  In reporting his death, a Bridgeport newspaper could not restrain from pointing out that he "fled from this city seventeen years ago after assaulting Lawyer W. K. Seeler in the court-room."

Mary J. Perkins inherited 121 East 78th Street.  She maintained a 133-acre country home in Westchester County.  She took in a boarder, Dr. Samuel F. Howland, who was a dentist.  Howland, who was a bachelor, lived here until his death on March 3, 1914.   His will was probated on July 30, and the New York Herald reported that he left $77,026, "of which he gave $50,000 to Mary J. Perkins, who was not related to him."  (The remainder went to the Moody Schools of Northfield, Massachusetts.)

Mary J. Perkins died on April 13, 1918.  She left the equivalent of $2 million today to Frederick B. Sewell and the East 78th Street house.  Sewell was now living in Mount Vernon, New York and exactly a year later, on April 19, 1919, the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that he had leased the house to Dr. William B. Boyd.  Boyd was a vice president of the Columbia University Biochemical Association and a member of the Presbyterian Hospital staff.  

Moving into the house with him was his sister, Virginia.  A self-reliant woman she was a graduate of Barnard College and during World War I she traveled overseas "with a Y.M.C.A. canteen."  She was originally in charge of "a Barnard unit" there.  Virginia was eventually promoted to inspector in charge of all units in one sector.

The New York Times noted, "Since the war she has been engaged in business management and accountancy."  When she and her brother moved into 121 East 78th Street she was controller of the Kent Place School for Girls in Summit, New Jersey.  Virginia Boyd resigned from the girls' school in June 1925.  Two months later she boarded the Leviathan "for an indefinite stay in France," according to The New York Times.

Virginia's independent and intrepid nature resulted, in part, in a horrifying incident.  On September 22, 1925, Dr. Boyd explained to a reporter that she "had planned to visit friends and to take a walking trip through the chateau region.  One of the points she was to visit was Blois."  Two days earlier, Virginia was on that "walking trip" while between Blois and Chambord when a man attacked her.  A wire from Paris said, "After fighting bravely Miss Boyd was about to be overcome by her assailant, when passing automobilists put him to flight."

French officials took the attack seriously.  The New York Times reported, "Armed posses are scouring the countryside today in a search for the assailant of Miss Boyd."

Frederick B. Sewell, described by The Carpet and Upholstery Trade Review as "a retired interior decorator," died in his Mount Vernon home in 1933.  On May 25, The New York Times reported that his estate had sold 121 East 78th Street to R. Keith Kane.  The article noted it "will be altered at a cost of $10,000."  

The costly renovations (equal to a quarter of a million today) included removing the stoop and lowering the entrance to below grade, converting the original entrance to a window, and adding a new floor.  Astoundingly, the architect deftly matched the former entrance with the existing parlor openings, copied the original architraves for the top floor windows, and reinstalled the 1871 cornice.

Only the unimpressive basement level hinted that renovations had been made.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Born on July 3, 1900, attorney Richmond Keith Kane (who went by his first initial) was a 1926 graduate of Harvard Law School.  He attended Oxford where (as he had been in Harvard) he was on the rowing team.  The year before purchasing 121 East 78th Street, he joined the law firm of Cadwalader, Wickersham & Taft.  He and his wife, the former Amanda Stewart Bryan, had four daughters: Shelah, Anne Tennant, Hope Stewart and Constance H.  Their country home was in Wickford, Rhode Island.

Amanda was highly involved in civic and social affairs.  On March 23, 1936, for instance, The New York Times reported that she hosted the "first in a series of meetings in behalf of the work of the Vocational Service for Juniors."  And on January 18, 1939, the newspaper announced, "Mrs. R. Keith Kane, president of the Smith College Club of New York, will give a luncheon today."

The family moved to Washington D.C. in 1940 after Kane became special assistant to the United States Attorney General "in the enforcement of new foreign-registration laws," according to The New York Times.  In September that year, the newspaper reported that Kane had leased the house furnished to "Viscount Jacques d'Aumale, Minister in charge of the French Consulate General in New York."

The New York Police Department's bomb square responded to 121 East 78th Street on March 3, 1941 "to investigate an explosion," according to The New York Times.  The detectives, however, found only "a slightly damaged tin can with white powder spread over the outside of the street door."  The exploding canister was deemed a prank.

With relations between the French Vichy Government and America strained, the following year the consul left East 78th Street and No. 121 was leased to Frederick S. Bailey and his family.  He told The New York Times on November 11, 1942 that he and his family "were greatly disturbed lest any demonstration intended for [d'Aumale] should be addressed to them."

In the meantime, R. Keith Kane was appointed assistant to the Secretary of the Navy in 1943 and in 1945 was an advisor to the United States delegation to the United Nations Conference on International Organization.

The family was back in the East 78th Street home at midcentury.  Shelah Kane was introduced to society in 1950.  She had graduated from the Brearley School and studied at Smith College.  She was married to Ensign James H. Scott, Jr. of the U.S. Coast Guard in St. Paul's Protestant Episcopal Church in Wickford, Rhode Island on August 18, 1952.

Anne Tennant Kane also attended the Brearly School.  She graduated from the Foxcroft School and Smith College.  Four years after Shelah's wedding, on December 22, 1956, Anne Tennant Kane was married in the Church of the Resurrection to Lockhart Bemiss McGuire.  

Adding to his impressive resume, in 1968 R. Keith Kane was inducted into the Harvard Varsity Club Hall of Fame.  And in 1971 Harvard gave him an honorary law doctorate.

Kane retired in December 1973 and he and Amanda relocated to Charlottesville, Virginia.  He died there five months later, on May 30, 1974, at the age of 73.

Former securities executive Aftab Islam, and his wife, Theresa Havell, lived here as early as 1999 with their six children and a live-in nanny.  The couple was married in 1979.  Theresa was described by The New York Post as "a Wall Street wizard."  She was the founder "of the highly successful Havell Capital Management," according to the newspaper.  Islam, on the other hand, called himself a "house husband" and had not worked since 1990.  

By 1999, things were not going smoothly within the marriage.  According to The New York Post, they slept in separate bedrooms.  Before going to bed on April 21, Theresa told Aftab that she wanted a divorce.  According to The New York Times, "She awoke just before 5 A.M. as Mr. Islam began beating her with a barbell he used to work out in their home at 121 East 78th Street." 

Saying that the attack came after "years of physical and mental abuse," Women's eNews reported, "After Havell's screams brought three of the couple's six children into her room, Islam continued his attack on the wife."  He told them that he had killed their mother, said the article.  Theresa was hospitalized with a fractured skull.  Islam was taken away by the police.

Charged with attempted murder, on August 11, 2000 Aftab Islam faced a judge.  Calling himself a "pacifist," he admitted hitting his wife with the 10-pound dumbbell.  But he explained his actions, saying that after he had sneaked into her room at 5 a.m. and "affectionately stroked her face...She bit my finger."

Islam continued, "I picked up the barbell she uses to exercise with and hit her with it."  He defended himself saying, "I only hit her four or five times and not very hard."

Islam was sentenced to eight years in prison.  While there, he attempted to retain 40 percent of the couple's assets in the divorce proceedings.  That did not happen.  The court (a subsequent appellate judge) ruled that Havell deserved the couple's entire assets, "valued at $17 million," according to Women's eNews.  The Appellate Division of the New York State Supreme Court called his assault on Theresa "so egregious as to shock the conscience."

photograph by the author

New owners had renovations done in 2002.  It was most likely during this remodeling that architectural elements of the ground floor, faithful reproductions of the 1871 versions, and a charming bay window were installed.

The 1915 Burton Building - 267 Fifth Avenue

 

image via 267fifthave.com

The exclusive Calumet Club moved into the two brick-and-brownstone mansions at the northeast corner of Fifth Avenue and 29th Street in 1886.  The relentless expansion of the commercial district had forced the club's members to migrate northward and necessitated its relocation to 12 West 56th Street in 1914.  The following year, on April 17, 1915, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that the combined Fifth Avenue mansions had been sold.  "The new owners will erect an eleven-story structure for their own occupancy," explained the article.

The owners were Frank V., John H. and Crawford Burton, and Howard F. Clark, partners in Burton Brothers & Co., "one of the largest cotton goods manufacturers in the country," as described by The New York Times.  Two months later, the architectural firm of Starrett & Van Vleck filed plans for a "fire-proof warehouse" to cost $350,000 (about $11.6 million in 2026 terms).  

Frank V. and John H. Burton were the heads of Burton Brothers & Co. and it is likely that they gave Starrett & Van Vleck significant input.  On July 4, 1915, The New York Times remarked that they "have long been prominent in the realty world for their partiality to high-class Fifth Avenue property."  

Despite the plan's initial description, the Burton Building was decidedly not a warehouse.  Completed in 1915, the architects designed it in a commercial take on Colonial architecture.  (The New York Times would later comment, "The architecture is a careful adaptation of the American Colonial to the requirements of a building of that type.")  Its three-story limestone base featured a double-height level arcade, the upper windows of which mimicked elegant fan lights.  The mid- and upper sections were clad in gray brick and two-story arches at the 10th- and 11th-floors echoed the base.  Most eye-catching was the brick crown of piers that supported a pergola.  That roof garden was almost assuredly the idea of the Burtons.  The New York Times described it on February 13, 1916:

One of its most attractive features is the main roof tiled throughout and inclosed [sic] on side and overhead with iron screens filled in with heavy wire mesh, affording all employes [sic] in the building a splendid recreation space for their noon hour.

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

The Burtons did not forget themselves in planning the building.  The article said:

In addition to the roof garden an attractive parlor or rest room for the members of the firm has been provided in lieu of the usual pent house, to which a sleeping room is connected with baths, for the convenience of those who may be forced to work overtime in the rush period and thereby miss the customary train to the suburban homestead and family dinner.

Because the Church of the Transfiguration (known as the Little Church Around the Corner) sat directly behind the Burton Building, Starrett & Van Vleck was able to place "generous window space on all sides," as reported by The New York Times, "making it as attractive on the rear as on the street sides."

As The Times had pointed out, John H. Burton was, indeed, highly active in the protection of the district.  He was the chairman of the Save New York Committee in 1916, the goal of which was "to preserve the heart of the City, from 33rd to 59th Streets and from Third to Seventh Avenues, from destruction by factories and to rehabilitate the lower and deserted part of New York City."  (Five years later, the Save New York Committee would move its headquarters into the Burton Building.)

Burton Brothers & Co. did not occupy the entire building, and quickly tenants moved in.  Among them in the first years of the 1920s were the New York office of the Pennsylvania-based Eddystone Manufacturing, "finishers of fine fabric;" the Mohawk Glove Corporation, which occupied the entire top floor; the Waite Grass Carpet Company; and the Philadelphia-based Colonial Knitting Mills.

A Mohawk Glove Corporation ad included a depiction of the Burton Building.  The Glovers' Review, December 1921 (copyright expired)

Frank Vincent Burton, a founder of Burton Brothers & Co., was a widower with five children.  On November 20, 1919, at the age of 65, he married Claire Louise Hyllsted.  Less than three years later, on March 12, 1922, he died leaving an estate equal to $24 million today.  (Claire estimated it as being closer to $10 million, or $186 million today.)  Burton excluded Claire from his will and a long-fought and ugly legal battle soon began as Claire sued her five step-children. 

from the collection of the New York Public Library

In the spring of 1923, a branch of the Chemical National Bank opened in part of the ground floor.  At the time, the offices of the Silk Publishing Company were on the third floor; and S. Craig Preston & Company, dealers in "gift and art wares;" and the New York Office of Thos. L. Leedom Co., makers of rugs, were also in the building.

Bromley Manufacturing Company leased the second floor, engulfing 5,000 square feet, in 1925.  The Carpet and Upholstery Trade Review described the firm as "manufacturers of fringed lace curtains, fringed Lever and fringed silk curtains, novelty lace edge curtains, drapery nets, etc."  Another curtain firm, the newly formed Cooper & De Luna Corporation moved in in 1926.  The Decorative Furnisher explained that the firm distributed "ruffled and novelty curtains and damasks and light weight silks."

On September 4, 1930, The New York Times reported that architect C. B. French had been hired to make $7,000 in renovations.  It was most likely at this time that the roof garden and pergola were demolished.

As early as 1940, the rooftop structure had been removed.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

A minor tenant here in 1931 was Abraham Holtz, a wholesale jeweler who occupied an office on the eighth floor.  Holtz was alone in the office just before noon on August 22 that year when two young men barged in.  The New York Times reported that, "using their fists as their only weapons," the thugs "gagged him, tied his coat over his head and then collected eight watches, a bracelet, a platinum wedding ring and three unset diamonds."  The youths escaped with about $1,500 worth of jewelry.  

Burton Brothers, Inc. faced charges by the Federal Trade Commission in 1943.  The firm marketed its "Burton's Irish Poplin" to shirt manufacturers with a picture of a shamrock.  The FTC charged that the material "is represented to be made in Ireland or of Irish goods" while, in fact, "it is an American product."

The Burton Building continued to house, mostly, dry goods related tenants through the 1940s.  Among them were the Nassau Textile Company, the American Soil Sponge Selling Group, and the National Association of Bedding Manufacturers.

The second half of the century saw more corporate offices moving in.  In the 1950s and '60s, the law firms Levin, Rosmarin & Schwartz and Rothenberg, Levin, Cohen and Schwartz operated here, as did the consulting firms of Arthur Deutz, Inc. and Francis Wadsworth James.

In September 1980, the Burton Building was sold "to a foreign investment group headed by Dr. B. Bastiyali of Dusseldorf, West Germany, for $2.35 million," according to The New York Times.  A renovation completed in 1983 resulted in a "dry goods store" in the lower five floors and a "wholesale establishment" in the upper portion, including the new penthouse level, according to the Department of Buildings.

A recent photograph reveals the remodeled base and the glass-enclosed penthouse. image via 267fifthave.com 

A subsequent two-year renovation initiated in 2017 included  the remodeling of the ground floor.  Starrett & Van Vleck's arched openings were enlarged and squared off.  

many thanks to reader Doug Wheeler for prompting this post

Charles Rentz's 1891 100-102 West Houston Street

Architect Charles Rentz's business was booming in 1890.  On November 21, 1890 alone he filed plans for four substantial buildings.  Among them was a "six-story stone and iron warehouse, with elevators, engines, etc." at 100 and 102 West Houston Street for Levy & Co.  Rentz placed the construction costs at $45,000, or about $1.6 million in 2026.

Charles Rentz designed the structure's two mirror-image sections in a reserved version of Romanesque Revival.  Completed in 1891, it was faced in brick above a cast iron base.  Triptych windows at the second floor sat within segmental arches, while the grouped windows of the midsection shared a single stone lintel.  The three-story pier between them was decorated with large, ornamental anchor plates.  Above the fully arched openings of the top floor was a bracketed cornice.

Among the initial tenants was Peter J. Brett, who manufactured "bonnet frames" on the fifth floor.  His ten male employees worked 53 hours per week.  Early on the morning of March 25, 1895, fire was discovered in Brett's shop.  The New York Times reported, "The firemen soon put it out, and some of them had left, while others were cleaning up the debris."  Those who remained were Captain Johnson and seven firefighters.  They "were putting things to rights," said the New York Herald, when a gas meter exploded.  "The shock threw them off their feet, but the things which were fired about shot over their heads, so they were not hurt."

The explosion started a second fire "and the rest of the firemen had to come back to put it out," reported the New York Herald.  The second blaze was worse than the first and Brett incurred damages of $10,000--a significant $385,000 today.

from the collection of the New York Public Library

Like Peter J. Brett, several of the tenants were millinery-related.  At the turn of the century, Eugene Razetti, Sardi & Valente, and Rossig Bros.--all three makers of artificial flowers and foliage for women's hats--were here.  Unlike Brett, who employed only men, Sardi & Valente's staff was heavily female: 17 women and 3 men.

Both firms advertised in The Millinery Trade Review in November 1904 (copyright expired)

Also occupying space at the turn of the century was the Standard Embroidery Company (on October 2, 1904, it advertised for a "Boy, Hebrew, for errands and make himself generally useful"), the Chemical Novelty Co., and M. Friedman & Co., makers of umbrella handles.  The latter was established in 1881 and moved into the West Houston Street building in 1892.  In 1905, Trunks Leather Goods and Umbrellas called M. Friedman & Co. "the oldest umbrella handle manufacturers in New York."

In the meantime, the ground floor was home to Rigolletti's Restaurant.  Working for Eugene Razzetti upstairs was Caesar Razzetti, presumably a son.  On the night of February 22, 1908, Eugene met his uncle, Gerolamo Cella, a respected importer of Italian wines, in the restaurant.  They and some friends played cards, but, according to The Sun, "During the came [Cella] was gloomy and inattentive."  The newspaper said, "As he was leaving he told the little party that they might soon be called to attend his funeral."  Cella was right.  He went home and committed suicide.

By the World War I years, J. Mackey & Co. was here, making "the campaign hat strap adopted by the new National Army," according to an ad in December 1917.  The firm also manufactured, "leather visors, chin straps, trimmings for uniform caps complete."

The post-war years saw millinery firms replaced with a variety of businesses.  In the early 1920s, Forsberg Electric Mfg. Co. and Conway Import Company were here; and by 1930 C. M. Blodgett, publishers of advertising calendars operated in the building.

Geyer's Stationery, September 1930 (copyright expired)

For some reason, 100-102 West Houston Street became a target for burglars in 1920.  Between January and August that year, there were eight break-ins, two of them targeting Conway Import Company.  It happened again on August 22.  The Evening World reported, "A safe-ripping which failed to remove the inner door was disclosed to-day when the store of the Conway Import Company, olive oil importers at Nos. 100-102 West Houston Street, was opened."

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Savoy Provision Company of Manhattan moved into the building in the Depression years and would remain for decades.  It was nearly involved in what the Staten Island Advance called an "early-morning barbecue" on June 10, 1947.  The article said that firemen were "called to put out a blaze in the cab of a meat truck to the rear of 1004 Arden avenue, Annadale."   How a fire could have started in the Savoy Provision Company's truck was unexplained.

The firm occupied the building until the early 1980s.  A conversion completed in 1985 resulted in six cooperative apartments.  It was possibly at this time that the cornice was removed.

As had been the case in 1908, the ground floor became a restaurant.  Fratelli Cangiani opened in June 1988, replaced by Jane at the turn of the century, and followed by Sarabeth.

photographs by the author

The 1893 Harlem Courthouse - 170 East 121st Street

 

The spiraling windows of the corner tower conform to the marble and iron staircase inside.  photograph by Americasroof

On December 13, 1890, Commissioner of Public Works Thomas Francis Gilroy "presented the plans for the new Harlem Court House at 121st street and Sylvan place," as reported by The Sun.  Those plans were still being drawn up by Thom & Wilson, which projected the cost at $200,000 (about $7.3 million in 2026).  The article noted that the structure would "have accommodations for the district, police, and civil courts.  There will be forty-eight cells in the prison."

Gilroy, who had just stepped into his role a year earlier, most likely wanted this project to be scandal free.  The construction of the previous Harlem Courthouse just two decades earlier was one of most egregious and publicized examples of graft and corruption within William "Boss" Tweed's Tammany Hall administration.  

Ground was broken in 1891 and construction continued for two years.  If Gilroy had hoped that everything would proceed smoothly, he was disappointed.  On July 7, 1892, The Evening World reported that work had completely stopped.  When the marble cutters went on strike because contractor Maxwell & Dempsey was using non-union men, "all the other trades went out in support of the strikers."

Two months later, on September 4, 1892, the New-York Tribune reported that the Plasterers' Association had accused H. Sinclair's Sons (the contractor for doing the plaster work) of "not only employing non-union men, mostly cheap Italian laborers...but they are not complying with the specification."  The union charged "that instead of papier mache mouldings and ornaments which are called for in the contract, only common plaster is supplied."  And the problems continued.  The following month The Evening World reported that the carpenters' union "is having trouble with Contractor Lantry" for employing non-union men.

Finally, just as 1892 drew to a close, the Harlem Courthouse was completed.  Thom & Wilson had blended its Romanesque Revival design with Victorian Gothic detailing, most evident in the octagonal clock tower and the gothic crockets that sprouted along the roofline.  Above a rusticated granite base, the courthouse was clad in red brick and trimmed in bluestone and terra cotta.  The 121st Street and Sylvan Place elevations were mirror images of one another, both containing asymmetrical large and small gables, the larger of which embraced dramatic double-height, arched triptych openings.

(Incidentally, the block-long Sylvan Place was the last surviving remnant of the Eastern Post Road which, as The New York Times recalled in April 1920, "was the main route out of the city to Boston.")

The Harlem Courthouse was opened on New Year's Day 1893.  There was no fanfare as the judges walked in at 9:30 a.m. and went to business.  There were, nevertheless, some welcoming gestures.  The World reported, "Across the large window, back of the Judge's desk, stretched the letters which formed the word 'Welcome.'  They were formed of white immortelles."  The article somewhat snidely remarked, "It is not known whether the floral salutation was addressed to the Judge, the New Year, or the twenty prisoners who lined up before the desk."  Police Justice Welde's court attachés presented him with a floral horseshoe that read "Happy New Year, C. W."

The Evening World opined, "The Ninth [District Court] has the most gorgeous apartments in the new Harlem Court-House.  There is not a better equipped civil court in New York than this, from point of location and convenience."

That first day's docket was mundane.  The first case heard in the new courthouse was that of saloon owner W. F. Aiken.  The World said, "He was arrested for disorderly conduct, but was discharged."  Then came Michael Dwyer, who drove a grocery wagon.  He was charged with colliding with a cable car on Amsterdam Avenue and Manhattan Street.  "The wagon was upset and Dwyer went out on his head.  The gripman had a hand crushed and one finger broken," reported the article.  And 17-year-old Peter Hickey faced the charge of stealing a pair of shoes from Meyer Mouser's store.

The World published a woefully inaccurate sketch of the new building on January 2, 1893. (copyright expired)

Other cases, of course, were less routine.  On August 5, 1899, for instance, Mrs. Margaret Shakett was arrested for abandoning her three-week-old child.  A pedestrian saw her get off a trolly car "at a lonely place and leave the baby on a stone wall on the Simpson estate," reported the New-York Tribune.  While admitting to the crime, Margaret Shakett emotionally described her situation to the judge.  Her husband had abandoned her several months earlier and she had lived since then by selling her furniture piece-by-piece.  She had been unable to find work until she had no money to support her or her baby.  The New-York Tribune recounted, "she decided to leave the infant at a place where she thought it would be quickly found by persons in good circumstances."

Thom & Wilson provided a more accurate rendering in 1891.  The History of the Portland Cement Industry in the United States 1900 (copyright expired)

After hearing her heart-wrenching tale, the judge dismissed Margaret Shakett.  Later that day, however, a representative of the National Home for Children on 51st Street appeared to say that Mrs. Shakett "was the woman who had abandoned many babies in different parts of the city."

Kingdon Gould was the privileged son of George Jay Gould and Edith Kingdon Gould.  Apparently feeling that his family's wealth and stature made him immune to everyday rules, as a freshman at Columbia University, he refused to wear a freshman's cap, infuriating members of the sophomore class.  When they attempted to force him to wear it, he pulled out a revolver and fired over their heads, sending them running.

Gould's cavalier attitude about rules and laws was reflected again in 1908 when he was arrested on May 17 for "speeding an automobile."  He posted $100 bond to appear in the Harlem Courthouse to stand trial.  The 21-year-old did not appear.  Rather than forfeit his bond, the court gave him a second chance, postponing the case for a week.  On June 1, The Sun reported that the judge "directed that Gould plead yesterday, which he did not do."  Instead, said the article, "It is said that Kingdon Gould has gone to Europe for the summer."  The judge issued a bench warrant for the insolent young man's arrest.

A disturbing case came before the Police Court on January 10, 1912.  Walter Freeman, a black man who worked as a sleeping car porter, and an unnamed white man rented a small office on West 133rd Street.  Freeman then sent for another Pullman porter, Frank Foster, and told him that he needed to find employees for a "palatial" hotel that was about to open in Cuba.  The Evening World reported, "He instructed Foster to hustle out and get hold of from eighty to a hundred young, alert negroes for good jobs in Havana."

Foster rounded up hallboys, bellmen, porters and elevator operators.  Freeman "hired" them, but only after they paid $3 or $5 in advance for their uniforms.  The men quit their jobs, and some "pawned their overcoats" to get enough money for the uniform advances.  On January 11, The Evening World added, "And one negro pawned his shoes yesterday to make up $5 to give Freeman, figuring that he was going to a warm climate and wouldn't need shoes until he got to work, when he could probably borrow a pair."

Walter Freeman told the group that their passage to Havana had been paid.  On the freezing morning of January 11, the 81 men stood on the pier to board the liner Mexico.  "All of them carried grips or suitcases, but many had no overcoats and one was without shoes," said the article.  "No passage had been engaged for the fourscore negroes by Freeman or anybody else."

The duped men traveled back north to the Harlem Courthouse where they lodged their complaint against Walter Freeman.  The Evening World reported that a police officer who went to the West 133rd address was told that "Freeman disappeared last night."

photograph by Jerry Spearman, via the New York Landmarks Conservancy

In a case that recalled that of Margaret Shakett years earlier, on May 8, 1925 Mrs. Augusta Geisen-Volks appeared in court to answer charges of running an "infantorium" on East 86th Street where "twenty-two children had died there within a year."  The widow of a Prussian army officer, she took in unwanted infants, presumably for adoption.  

At the time of Augusta Geisen-Volks's disturbing trial, Victor Wahlberg had wound the clocks here every week since the building's opening.  He not only wound these clocks, but every clock in city-owned buildings throughout the city.  He came to America from Stockholm at the age of 17 in 1890.  Having been a watchmaker's apprentice at home, he got the clock-winding job in 1892.  The New York Times explained on January 10, 1933 that once a week since then, "Mr. Wahlberg had gone the rounds from City Hall to Harlem Courthouse, winding, oiling and repairing the municipal clocks."  

The reason for New York Times's article was that after 40 years and having served under 13 mayors, Victor Wahlberg had lost his job.  On New Year's Day 1933, Hyman Goldschmidt took over the position, having undercut Wahlberg's bid for the contract by $366.  In his "somber flat," Wahlberg told a New York Times reporter, "I'll will get by."  Victor Wahlberg died in a nursing home on April 18, 1949.

The Great Depression saw the Works Progress Administration arise from President Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal programs.  It created jobs for out-of-work Americans, including artists who suddenly found themselves decorating the walls and ceilings of municipal buildings.  In 1936, artist David Karfunkle was commissioned to adorn the third floor of the Harlem Courthouse.  His not-so-subtle message was depicted in his mural Exploitation of Labor and Hoarding of Wealth.

David Karfunkle at work on his powerful 1936 mural. from the Archives of American Art.

In 1953 the city established the Department of Air Pollution Control "to lead a scientific attack on air contamination," as explained by The New York Times.  On December 12, 1954, the newspaper reported that the Department's air pollution laboratory had lost its lease.  "With a limited choice of substitute quarters, the city must now decide whether to continue the infant laboratory or abandon it as too costly,"  said the article.  Under consideration, it said, "is the old Harlem Courthouse, a somewhat rundown structure at East 121st Street and Sylvan Place."

Two years later, on July 14, 1955, The New York Times reported, "The City's Air Pollution Control Laboratory moved yesterday to roomier quarters in the Harlem Courthouse."  The chemists now had "twice as much floor space," said the article, as its previous location.  

The building ceased to operate as a courthouse in 1961 and when it was considered for individual landmark designation in June 1966, the Air Pollution Control Laboratory was its only tenant.  But within two years, as the Harlem Community Justice Center, the structure began offering services to local residents.

The Haworth - 239 West 103rd Street

 

photograph by Anthony Bellov

Clarence Fagan True opened his architectural practice in 1889.  He would design at least 270 rowhomes on the Upper West Side before the turn of the century, earning him the moniker "the Face of the Upper West Side." In 1898, developer Lawrence Buckley gave True a rare commission--that of designing an apartment building on 103rd Street between Broadway and West End Avenue, rather than a row of townhomes.

Completed in 1899 at a cost of $60,000 (about $2.4 million in 2026), the six-story-and-basement Haworth was faced in beige Roman brick and trimmed in limestone.  Above a short stoop, the arched entrance sat within an impressive portico with Scamozzi columns, a wide entablature decorated with Renaissance designs and a carved ornament.  

photograph by Anthony Bellov

True outlined the lower and midsection with stone quoins and placed the windows within Gibbs surrounds.  The elegant stone-faced top floor sat below an overhanging roof.  Its round-arched openings were separated by paired, engaged Scammozi columns.

An advertisement on March 11, 1899 warned potential renters, "six Apartments only remaining unleased."  It described the apartments as being "fully decorated, tiled bathroom, &c., &c."  The advertisement boasted an electric elevator, electric lights, and steam heat.  It said that the Haworth offered "full attendance," meaning that the building's staff included uniformed "hall boys" would be on call to carry packages, deliver mail, and such; and an elevator operator.  Rent for the seven-room apartments was $70, or $2,800 per month today.

The tenants maintained small domestic staffs, and in 1899 help-wanted ads appeared in newspapers seeking maids, cooks and laundresses.  

Among the initial residents was William McKinley Forbes.  Born in Scotland in 1814, he arrived in America in the 1830s.  He operated a dry goods business in Brooklyn before retiring around 1879.  Sadly, the 85-year-old widower would not enjoy his new apartment for long.  On May 3, 1899, just weeks after moving in, he died here.

Another distinguished tenant at the time was Samuel Reeve.  He descended from eight generations of American Reeves, the first of whom settled in Long Island.  Born in 1807, Samuel Reeve came to New York City at the age of 15.  The New-York Tribune remarked that he "cast his first vote for John Quincy Adams for President."  Like William Forbes, he was retired and a widower.  (His late wife was Ann Amelia Caroline Remsen.)  For years he had operated a merchant tailoring establishment in the St. Nicholas Hotel.  He died in his apartment on December 22, 1903 at the age of 96 and his funeral was held in the parlor the next day.

Actor Charles Abbott (whose stage name was Charles Abbott Mace) and his wife, Margaret Julia Mitchell, known to audiences as Maggie Mitchell, were also initial residents.  Maggie first appeared on stage at the Chambers Street Theatre in the role of  Julia in The Soldier's Daughter in 1851.  She was an intimate friend of actor John Wilkes Booth.  Ironically, one of her fans was President Abraham Lincoln, who attended her performances at Ford's Theatre.  At one point, Mary Todd Lincoln and the President invited her to tea at the White House.

This portrait of Maggie Mitchell was taken in 1899, the year she moved into the Haworth.  Players of the Present, 1899 (copyright expired)

Maggie and Charles were married in 1889, while co-starring in Boston.  The San Antonio Light would remark about Maggie's personal wealth later, saying, "The stage brought not only fame, but fortune to Maggie Mitchell.  She owned apartment buildings on Manhattan Island and had a [summer] home in the theatrical colony at Long Branch."

Among the hall boys who worked in the Haworth in 1901 was Clinton Ward, who was a favorite of Maggie Mitchell.  On March 12, The Morning Telegraph reported that Ward went "to the St. Andrew Apartments, 102 West End avenue, to call on his friend, Robert Daniel, a hall boy there."  Daniel was out to lunch, and Clinton Ward, "it is alleged, borrowed his overcoat, which was hanging in the hall."  Robert Daniel notified the police and Clinton Ward was arrested for theft.  The Morning Telegraph titled its article, "Maggie Mitchell Weeps / Aged Actress Learns Her Pet Hallboy, Clinton Word [sic], Is Under Arrest."

The family of Daniel Thompson Pierce Jr. lived here as early as 1904.  Born in Washington, D. C. in 1875, Pierce earned his law degree in 1894 but turned to journalism.  The next year he became editor of Public Opinion and contributed articles on political and social subjects to various newspapers and magazines.  Pierce married Hadassah Hamilton Hellen, known as Dessie, in 1896.  They had a daughter, Hellen Hadassah, born in 1897.  A son, Daniel Pierce III, would be born here in 1907.

Another resident with an impressive pedigree was Smith Thompson.  A lawyer and agent for the Mutual Life Insurance Company, he was born in 1857.  His maternal great-grandfather was Daniel D. Tompkins, a United States Supreme Court Justice, Vice President of the United States under James Monroe, and Governor of New York.  Thompson's paternal grandfather, also named Smith Thompson, was James Monroe's Secretary of the Navy from 1819 to 1823, and, like his father-in-law, was a United States Supreme Court Justice.

The Haworth continued to attract respected figures, like Harvey Mark Thomas, founder of the Thomas Publishing Company and editor of Industry Equipment News; Deputy Assistant District Attorney Edwin Benedict McGuire, here as early as 1926; and retired attorney William Lewis Barnes.

Barnes was born in 1842 and was a widower.  In the spring of 1926, he went to a mountain resort at Wernersville, Pennsylvania.  The 84-year-old became ill in the early part of May.  About two weeks later, on May 25, other visitors got a gruesome shock.  The New York Times reported, "His body was found hanging by other guests, apparently only a few hours after death."

At the fifth floor were Gibbs surrounds, which drew from 18th century English prototypes.  They coexisted with Renaissance inspired detailing at the sixth.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

Even during the Depression years, residents of 239 West 103rd Street were affluent, like the Francis S. McDonnell family, who owned at least one automobile and a 35-foot motor cruiser, the Alice Bee.  

Son John McDonnell was driving through Dobbs Ferry on May 27, 1929, when he ran out of gas.  He and his passenger broke two locks and disconnected the gas line on the village's steam roller and started siphoning gas.  And then Patrolman Edward Doyle showed up.  The Yonkers New York Statesman said that "the desire to get just a few cents worth to carry his car to New York cost John McDonnell...$25 in a fine."  McDonnell left his car as security until he could acquire the money.

On August 21, 1934, Francis S. McDonnell took a party of eight men up the Hudson River on the Alice Bee.  They sailed past Yonkers and were on the way back when Thomas Keane "lost his balance and fell overboard," as reported by The New York Times.  George McDonnell and another passenger, George Amey, dived in after him.  The article said, "They got him back aboard the boat unconscious."  Unfortunately, the 35-year-old married father of two died on the dock.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Significant change came to 239 West 103rd Street in 1940 when it was converted to a single-room-occupancy hotel.  Where once well-heeled residents enjoyed seven-room suites, there were now 13 furnished rooms per floor.

Living here early in 1944 was Irving N. Kaufman.  Not wanting to pay for his long-distance telephone calls, the 25-year-old identified himself to the operator as E. J. Conroy, "head of the FBI here."  He insisted "that he was entitled to make a long-distance call without payment," reported The New York Times on February 21.  She turned the call over to her supervisor.  Kaufman threatened to have him arrested for a "violation of the Federal communications ruling," if his call was not put through charge-free.  Kaufman never made his telephone call.  Instead, he was arrested on charges of impersonating an FBI agent.

photograph by Anthony Bellov

In January 1960, Minnie Smith, the owner of 239 West 103rd Street, incurred "heavy fines" by the State Rent Administration, which described her as a "neglectful landlord."  Two months later, on March 25, The New York Times reported that numerous violations had resulted in "lengthy litigation" and the eviction of all tenants.  The City Housing Authority seized the building with plans "to repair the rooming house and reconvert the interiors to apartments for families."  Work was completed in 1963 as part of the Douglass Houses project.  There are now four apartments per floor in the building.

many thanks to historian Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post