Like the green patina'ed bands at the cornice and window pediment on 103rd, the black bays on Amsterdam Avenue were once clad in copper. photo by Anthony Bellov
In August 1887, Edward L. Angell filed plans for a "six-story brick apartment house" at the northwest corner of 103rd Street and Tenth Avenue (renamed Amsterdam Avenue in 1890) for developer Charles A. Fuller. Angell projected the construction costs at $65,000, or about $2.27 million in 2026.
The neighborhood Fuller chose was known as Manhattan Valley. On December 20, 1890, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide noted, "The first builder to erect a six-story flat in the neighborhood was Chas. A. Fuller." Fuller dubbed his building the Edinboro.
Angell designed the structure in a blend of Queen Anne and Renaissance Revival styles. His tripartite design was a study of mixed-media. Faced in variegated beige brick, the Edinboro was trimmed in brownstone, sandstone, copper and terra cotta.
On the avenue side were storefronts. The residential entrance at 203 West 103rd Street was uncompromisingly Renaissance Revival in style. Sitting above a wide flight of steps, it was flanked by paneled pilasters capped with rows of anthemions. They supported a heavy entablature elaborately carved with Renaissance inspired decorations.
The stonework has been painted and the entrance modernized with unsympathetic doors more expected in a public school building. photograph by Anthony Bellov
The 103rd Street elevation included a panel carved with a zig-zagging ribbon and surmounted by an arched, swag-filled pediment. At the fifth floor were quilt-like panels of Queen Anne-style terra cotta tiles, and at the sixth a shield on a leafy background announced the construction date. A large, ogee gable that rose from the sixth floor and interrupted the cornice was outlined with copper.
The Amsterdam Avenue side was distinguished by copper-clad bays. Those on the third floor were fronted with blind balustrades and capped with Renaissance-style triangular pediments. Angell designed the cornice as more of a parapet composed of a regimented table of brick-stepped corbels.
The ribbon design smacked of the letter M. photograph by Anthony Bellov
Potential residents could choose from apartments of five, seven or eight rooms with a bath. (There was a total of 26 apartments in the building.) Tenants could patronize the restaurant in the building and rents were offered "with or without meals." An advertisement boasted, "hot water, gas ranges, steam heat" and "uniformed service." (The uniformed staff would have included the elevator operator and hall boys, available for doing errands like carrying packages, delivering mail and such.) Rents ranged from $600 to $900 per year--about $2,000 to $3,000 a month today.
Among the residents in the 1890s were civil engineer Edward P. North, who was appointed Water Purveyor for the Department of Public Works in 1895; real estate broker John W. Stevens, who purchased his first Upper West Side property in 1854; and banker and stockbroker John W. Gilbough.
John W. Gilbough, King's Views of the New York Stock Exchange, 1898 (copyright expired)
Richard Spillane and his family lived in the Edinboro as early as 1903. An editor, he and his wife had at least one daughter. They worshiped at St. Agnes's Chapel on West 91st Street. Robert J. Hudson was on the staff there. The 53-year-old was described by The Evening World as "an evangelist and Bible class leader."
In the spring of 1903, Spillane's daughter came home from Riverside Park with a horrific tale. Robert Hudson routinely "gathered the little children around him and read them stories from the Bible," said The Evening World. "He would then take liberties with the tots."
Enraged, Spillane had Hudson arrested in April on charges of "accosting girls in Riverside Park and showing them indecent sketches." Spillane also told other parents of the crimes. On April 3, Hudson appeared in Magistrate Crane's private quarters. Testifying against him were Richard Spillane and two other fathers, Dr. J. H. Prentice and R. C. Stannard. Stannard had already made up his mind about Hudson's guilt, saying that if he "ever dared to show his face in the neighborhood again he would riddle him with bullets."
Hudson insisted he, "never did anything wrong in my life." He told the magistrate, "I play ball with the boys and pat the girls on their heads." When Magistrate Crane asked why he had been forced to leave Spencer, Massachusetts, Hudson explained that "Some malicious persons there said I was stealing hay."
Roger J. Hudson was tried in the Court of Special Sessions on April 14. Richard Spillane was there to testify, as were four little girls ranging from eight to 12 years old. Spillane said in part:
His character is bad for he told me himself he was driven from Spencer, Massachusetts. He is the enemy of every child that frequents the Drive. He told me he wouldn't blame me if I killed him. The women wanted to hang him to a tree.
In his defense, Hudson insisted, "the most he was guilty of was a little indiscretion." He pointed out, "All men are subject to indiscretions." Justice Mayer did not agree. He sentenced Hudson to eight months in the penitentiary.
Living in the Edinboro at the time of the scurrilous trial was professional whistler Alice J. Shaw, who, with three of her daughters, shared an apartment with her aunt, Harriet Goodhue. Born Alice J. Horton in 1853, she divorced her husband, William Holland Shaw in 1888. (Somewhat scandalously, on May 15, 1888 The New York Sun reported, "A report is in circulation that Mrs. Alice Shaw, the whistler, is to be married to the Hon. William F. Cody, better known as Buffalo Bill...Buffalo Bill, it may be added, is married. Mrs. Shaw is, too, but is suing for a divorce.")
Alice was a celebrity. Following her divorce she honed her talent of whistling. By the time she and her daughters moved into the Edinboro, she had traveled the world, had performed for the Prince of Wales, and The Times-Union described her as being "well known throughout the country."
Alice J. Shaw, The Amusement Bulletin, October 19, 1889 (copyright expired)
Alice was sued by photographer Theodore C. Marceau for $143.09 in publicity photographs. In court on February 8, 1903, she was asked, "What are you?" She answered, "I am an artist--a musical artist. I am a professional whistler."
In the spring of 1907, another entertainer, actor Willard Hutchinson, moved into the Edinboro with his wife. While the 29-year-old thespian was appearing in Toledo, Ohio in May that year, his valise was stolen. Among the items inside were his new lease and business card. The next week, sans valise, Hutchinson returned to New York. In the meantime, the thief in Ohio was using his identity to pass bad checks. On May 11, Hutchinson was arrested and jailed in The Tombs after Toledo police had sent a telegram with his information and a photograph.
In court the next morning, Hutchinson complained, "It's pretty hard luck for a fellow to be arrested and jailed because a crook swipes his suit case." His "hard luck" worsened when he was told he would be held until the arrival of a Toledo detective "to see if he is the man wanted," reported the New York Herald on May 12. Five days later, The New York Times reported that he had been dismissed, saying that the "picture and description of Hutchinson were not those of the man who had committed the fraud."
The Edinboro continued to attract upper-middle-class tenants, like civil engineer John Christian Ostrup and his wife, the former Mary Forbes Whyte, who were here as early as 1910. Born in Denmark in 1864, he was educated at the Royal Cadet School in Copenhagen, received his Civil Engineering degree at the Polytechnic School in Copenhagen, and did post-graduate work at Chicago Engineering School. In 1907 he was hired as Professor of Structural Engineering at the Stevens Institute of Technology in Hoboken. He was, as well, a consulting engineer with offices at 17 Battery Place.
British Engineers and Allied Professions in the Twentieth Century 1910 (copyright expired)
Henry "Harry" Anderson was born in 1869. He married Grace Irene Ryder in the Church of the Transfiguration on April 8, 1907. An avid yachtsman, he became a member of the New York Athletic Club's yacht division in 1902 and later a member of the Larchmont Yacht Club.
As a representative of the importing and exporting firm Roderick & Rumsey, Anderson traveled abroad regularly. He was in London in March 1912 on business and booked passage home on the new luxury liner RMS Titanic. Interestingly, while Grace did not accompany him on the trip, their dog did. Somewhat surprisingly, Anderson was rescued by the RMS Carpathia following the Titanic's sinking. (Unfortunately, his dog was not so lucky.)
Once aboard the Carpathia, Anderson attempted to telegram Grace, saying, "Safe aboard Carpathia. Do not worry." The wireless operator, however, was faced with a mountain of messages and Andersons's was one of those that was not transmitted.
Grace Anderson died at the age of 38 on June 9, 1915. Harry Anderson was still living in the Edinboro as late as 1919.
In 1940 the copper bays on the Amsterdam Avenue side and the distinctive ogee gable on the side street were intact. via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services
Stockbroker John L. Burness lived here in the early Depression years. The bachelor maintained a country home in Sea Cliff, Long Island. On Friday, June 21, 1935, he left 203 West 103rd Street to spend the weekend at the home of William Brown at Atlantic Beach, Long Island. The men played golf at the Lido Country Club that afternoon.
The next morning, Brown went to his office in Rockville Centre. Burness got up and, for some reason, went into the garage. There, according to police, he got into an argument with a maid, 20-year-old Dorothea Kassady. Later that morning, Burness's body was discovered in the garage. "It was said death was due to carbon monoxide fumes," reported The New York Times.
But an autopsy revealed a blunt-force injury on the back of Burness's skull. An investigation discovered that Dorothea Kassady quarreled with the 30-year-old "over money she said he owed her." She hit him over the head with a hammer, then turned on the ignition of the Brown's automobile and closed the garage doors to stage his murder as carbon monoxide poisoning.
photo by Anthony Bellov
In 1948, 203 West 103rd Street was renovated. There were now 42 apartments in the building--about twice as many as there were originally. The tenants were still middle-class. Among the residents in 1949 was Rafael Rio, a representative of the Puerto Rican Government. Born in 1888, he relocated to New York City as a young man. He held memberships to the Whitehall Club, the New York Athletic Club, the Pan-American Society and the Maritime Exchange.
Panels of terra cotta, Queen Anne-style tiles decorate the fifth floor. photograph by Anthony Bellov
In 1957, jazz saxophonist John William "Trane" Coltrane and his wife, Naima, moved into an apartment here. Naima (born Juanita Grubbs) was a Muslim convert and had a daughter, Antonia (later renamed Syeeda). Coltrane later adopted her.
John William Coltrane, from the collection of the Library of Congress
Coltrane had been a part of Miles Davis's successful group, the First Great Quinet. According to Ben Ratliff of The New York Times later, the group dissolved partly because of Coltrane's heroin addiction. By the time he moved his family into 203 West 103rd Street, he had beaten his addiction. In his Saxophone Colossus: The Life and Music of Sonny Rollins, Aiden Levy writes:
Coltrane invited [Freddie] Hubbard to practice with him at the apartment he shared with his wife, Naima, and his stepdaughter, Syeeda, at 203 West 103rd Street. Coltrane was developing the "Coltrane changes" that culminated in "Giants Steps."
Hubbard later recalled, "I'd take the subway to Trane's house every day he was in town. I had a headache when I left there because he was practicing so much."
The Coltranes left 203 West 103rd Street in 1959. He is remembered today as one of the most influential figures in 20th century jazz music.
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The top of the gable has been chopped off. Happily, its copper outline survives. photograph by Anthony Bellov
In 2017, plans were filed for "facade repair." It was likely at this time that Edward L. Angell's distinctive copper bays were removed and his striking ogee gable decapitated. The changes greatly diluted what had been a highly unusual and attractive design.
many thanks to Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post
Thank you for the gable photo.
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