The 1891 Prospect Hill Apartments - 26 East 91st Street

 

image via transparentcity.com

Among the Upper Manhattan's elegant country mansions in the 18th century was Prospect Hall,  located at approximately what is today Park Avenue and 93rd Street.  The estate took its name from the area called Prospect Hill.  A letter to the editor of The New York Times on February 9, 1913 recalled, "The situation was a very fine one.  Prospect Hill, the name still given to that part of the city, was much higher than any part of the city south of Washington Heights.  From the front of Prospect Hall there was a fine view of the East River and Long Island."

By 1890, the days of summer estates and Dutch farms had long passed, as houses, stores and apartment buildings rose along the Upper East Side streets.  That year developer John Livingston hired the architectural firm of A. B. Ogden & Sons to design a sprawling flat, or apartment, building at the southwest corner of Madison Avenue and 91st Street.

Completed the following year, John Livingston called his new six-story building the Prospect Hill.  The architects had faced the Renaissance Revival style building in brick, trimmed in brownstone.  A box stoop led to the entrance, centered on Madison Avenue, which sat within a majestic two-story arch containing an oval stained glass window.  The corner was rounded above the first floor, providing a charming balcony to the second floor corner apartment.  An ornate pressed metal frieze ran below the cornice, which A. B. Ogden & Sons garnished with balustrades and triangular pediments.  Below street level were two stores, "suitable for a druggist and barber," according to the Real Estate Record & Guide.

Real Estate Record & Guide, May 30, 1891 (copyright expired)

The lobby was meant to impress.  The floor was tiled with marble and the wainscoting was mahogany.  A floor-to-ceiling console mirror "gives a brilliant reflection of every objects to the east," said the Record & Guide.  "There are picturesque seats in bamboo and mahogany, and a handsome lamp is suspended from the ceiling."

There were three apartments per floor, of either seven rooms and a bath, or eight rooms and bath.  "Each suite of apartments has a parlor, music-room and dining-room, which can be separated by sliding doors or portieres, or, when occasion demands, thrown into one."  The critic of the Record & Guide felt the ability to combine all three principal rooms was ingenious, "a desideratum which cannot too frequently be commended in these days of social intercourse."

The parlors and music rooms were trimmed in cherry, while the dining rooms were done in oak.  Residents would enjoy up-to-date amenities, like "a handsome and spacious elevator of the safety type," steam heat, "electric bells, fine plumbing, etc."  (The electric bells were for summoning domestic help.)

Prospect Hill residents were well-heeled.  Among them in the first years of the 20th century were James S. Cushman and his wife, the former Vera Scott.  Cushman was descended from two Mayflower passengers, Thomas Cushman and Mary Allerton.

His grandfather was the wealthy real estate man Don Alonzo Cushman, who had been highly responsible for the development of the Chelsea district.  Although Cushman was president of Cushman & Denison Manufacturing Company, a stationery firm, he, too, was involved in real estate.  In 1916 he founded the Allerton chain of "club hotels" for professional men and women (named after his Mayflower ancestor).  The New York Times said, "He was regarded as a pioneer in improving the New York skyline because the Allerton structures were built so as to hide their water towers."

Vera Cushman was nearly as active as her husband.  On April 17, 1918, the New York Herald reported that a cable message had arrived at the National Board of the Young Women's Christian Association, "announcing the safe arrival at a French port of Mrs. James S. Cushman, and seven other American women of prominence who have gone to France to work under the auspices of the association."  For years Vera had been president of the association, and was now chairman of its War Work Council, as well.

The wedding of Charles Cook Ransom and Emma Peabody on May 6, 1920 was a socially visible affair.  The bride was the daughter of the Stephen and Cornelia Haven Peabody, and the granddaughter of millionaire George Griswold Haven.  The newlyweds moved into the Prospect Hill, where a daughter, Emma Marie, was born in June 1922.

By the time of baby Emma's arrive, things were changing in the neighborhood.  Madison Avenue had become increasingly commercial, and Victorian apartment houses were falling from favor.  In 1930, architect Robert T. Lyons was commissioned to modernize the Prospect Hill.  The stoop was removed and the entrance moved to 26 East 91st Street, stores were installed along Madison Avenue, and A. B. Ogden & Sons' cornice was stripped down.

The changing neighborhood and outdated architecture of the building did not diminish the prominence of the Prospect Hill residents, however.  The family of A. Alexander Thomas were among the first residents following the renovations.  Thomas's wife was the former Helen Rowe.  Their daughters, Adi-Kent and Helen Elizabeth, enjoyed a privileged upbringing.  Both, of course, attended exclusive schools (The New York Sun mentioned that Helen Elizabeth "was educated abroad and at the Spence School here.  She also attended the Fermata School at Aiker, S.C., and the American Academy of Dramatic Arts of New York.), and both young women were formally introduced to society.

Such was the case with another young resident, Julia Bliss Halsted.   She graduated from St. Catherine's School in Richmond, Virginia in 1939 and went on to Finch Junior College.  On November 29, 1939, The New York Sun reported, "Mr. and Mrs. Douglas Halsted of 26 East Ninth-first street, will introduce their daughter, Miss Julis Bliss Halsted, at a dinner to be given on December 22, at the Plaza."

Living here in the early 1980's was the no-nonsense State Supreme Court justice James J. Leff.  At around 6:30 on the morning of November 6, 1981, according to The New York Times, "the early-morning quiet was shattered by two 'explosion-like sounds' that seemed to come from the Sweet Suite, a shop on Madison Avenue directly below his second-floor apartment."

Judge Leff rushed to his window to see a man running to a gray van, carrying a piece of equipment (it turned out to be a t-shirt imprinting machine stolen from a different shop in the building).  Leff reached for his totebag, pulled out his .38-caliber Colt "detective's special," and fired three shots at the van.  The vehicle sped off with two men inside.

Leff notified police, who were obligated to temporarily confiscate the fired weapon.  He told a reporter, "I guess I can manage without it.  The average citizen does.  But I feel more comfortable with it."

image via apartments.com

A renovation completed in 1983 resulted in four apartments per floor.  The brick and brownstone have been painted, obscuring A. B. Ogden & Sons' purposeful contrast of brick and stone.  And while the cornice decorations and magnificent Madison Avenue entrance have been lost, the charming corner balcony happily survives.

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An 1889 Make-Over -- 496 Sixth Avenue

 

In 1842 Thomas C. Acton and his family lived in the boarding house at 180 Sixth Avenue (renumbered 496 in 1925).   That year he worked as a janitor in Grammar School No. 35 around the corner on West 13th Street.  Born in Greenwich Village to relatively poor parents, the young man had aspirations beyond janitor work.  He landed a city job as deputy clerk, then became Deputy Register, and was appointed Police Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police Force in 1860.  The New York Times would later called him "the most prominent public official of his city."

By then, of course, the Acton family had moved away from Sixth Avenue.  The ground floor of the boarding house in which they had lived had a store at street level.  In the late 1840's it was home to Fendall & Donnel, a hardware and cutlery store, and by 1854 S. N. Burrill ran his "ice cream saloon and restaurant" from the space.

The owner of the property, Gabriel Winter, leased the building to Leonhard Boch in 1863.   He ran his blacksmith shop in the rear and continued to operate the upper floors of the house proper as boarding house.  A disturbing article appeared in The Daily Whit on December 10, 1867:

Another blacksmith--Michael Boch of No. 180 Sixth avenue, New York--has been wounded by thrusting a pistol into his forge without first examining its barrels.

In the late 1870's E. J. Lecocq's photographic gallery was here.  (Advertised as the "First Gallery on block below Macy's store," the rear entrance of which was on West 13th street.)  He left in 1882 and the space soon became home to Quong Sing's laundry.

Sadlers' Catholic Directory, 1880 (copyright expired)

Major change would come to the building after Rosanna Smith (who lived directly across the street at 181 Sixth Avenue) purchased 180 Sixth Avenue on February 21, 1889.  The price she paid, $28,100, would be just under $830,000 today.  She had plans for the outdated structure and hired the architectural firm of A. B. Ogden & Son to make significant alterations.  Although the architects most often worked in Romanesque Revival and Renaissance Revival styles, this project would be different--a blend of the popular neo-Grec and Queen Anne styles.

The attic level was raised to full height and the façade received a facelift.  The storefront was given fluted, cast iron pilasters.  The second floor windows now wore prominent, bracketed brownstone cornices; and those of the top floor were fully arched, with handsome stone lintels and keystones.   A stone plaque below the elaborate pressed metal terminal cornice announced the date 1889.

The upper floors now housed small businesses and offices, and the ground floor became a restaurant owned by Pulaski Terwilliger.  He and Wilson Terwilliger ran a large livery stable on East 121st Street, as well.  On March 31, 1891 the Board of Aldermen gave him permission "to place and keep an ornamental lamp-post and lamp in front of No. 180 Sixth avenue, provided the lamp be kept lighted during the same hours as the public lamps."  The resolution made clear that "the work to be done and gas supplied as his own expense."

By 1892 the Sixth Avenue Gospel Mission was operating from an upper floor and Caroline C. Nicholas had taken over the "eating house."  The Mission remained at least until 1898, by which time Otto C. Wurst's photography studio was here.

Dressed in her best finery, this young girl was brought to Wursts's studio in the 1890's.

Otto Wurst advertised his studio for sale in 1906, describing it as "Well-equipped New York gallery established eighteen years.  If sold at once buyer can get big bargain.  Ill health the only reason."

The restaurant space was taken over by a United Cigar store in June 1910, but in 1921 it once again became a restaurant, owned by George Wilmot.  Among the tenants in the upper floors was Papamihales Bros., "furs and fur trimmings."

The contrast of brick and brownstone was lost beneath a century of grime.  photo via wikamapia.org.

By the 1990's when It's A Small World Pets occupied the ground floor, a coating of soot and grime covered 496 Sixth Avenue.   The space later became Groom-O-Rama, and today is a delicatessen-café.  And A. B. Ogden & Son's eye-catching façade has happily been cleaned.

photographs by the author

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The Barnard School for Girls - 421 Convent Avenue

In the early 1890's the bulk of women who worked were shop girls, teachers, nurses or factory workers.  Upper crust females busied themselves, instead, with charity work and social activities.  There were a few, however, like Annie Doyle who made their own fortune within a world of men.  A real estate developer, she would wheel and deal in properties into the first decade of the 20th century.

In 1893, as high-end residences arose in the Sugar Hill neighborhood, she hired the architectural firm of A. B. Ogden & Son to design a row of six upscale rowhouses on Convent Avenue, stretching north from the northeast corner of West 148th Street.  Designed essentially as three pairs (an A-B-A-B-A-C pattern) the residences would rise three stories above English basements. 

Construction was begun in October 1893 and would not be completed until April 1895.  The corner house was intended to be the showpiece of row, and while the other five cost $13,500 to erect, it cost $23,000--or around $662,000 today.

Although its entrance was centered on the 85-foot long 148th Street elevation, it took the Convent Avenue address.  It shared little in common with the rest, although, somewhat surprisingly, it shared a shallow, modified mansard with No. 423; the others wore stone balustrades. 

Faced in pinkish brick and trimmed in brownstone, the residence sat upon a rough-cut brownstone basement level.  The box stoop rose to an arched double-doored entrance flanked by windows.  The openings were arranged to create a Palladian effect.  A thin stone cornice separated the first from upper floors where ornamentation relied on quoins, spandrel panels and engaged columns between the grouped openings of the third floor, 148th Street elevation.

The unusual mansard is evident in this early photograph of the Barnard School.  photograph by Thaddeus Wilkerson from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In 1885 Dr. William L. Hazen had founded the Barnard School for Boys.  Two years later he brought in Theodore Edward Lyon as an instructor of English, mathematics, and science.  Then, in 1892, Katherine Huguenin Davis joined them to form the Barnard School for Girls.

The exclusive school moved into No 421 Convent Avenue.  Katherine Davis lived in the school, both teaching and overseeing the girls.  She came from an old and respected family.  Never married, she was a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution, and the Founders' and Patriots' Club.

Pupils in the Barnard School for Girls came from well-to-do families with high expectations for their daughters.  Katherine Davis, no doubt, had no tolerance for misconduct or impropriety.  An advertisement in 1914 promised "The School seeks to co-operate with the home in keeping the pupil a wholesome girl."

Unlike some girls' schools which simply prepared their students to enter polite society, focusing on French, music, deportment and arts; the Barnard School for Girls prepared theirs for higher education.  "The curriculum includes all grades from Kindergarten to College," said an ad.  "The certificate at the School admits to the leading Colleges...No pupil of the School has ever failed to enter College."

Katherine Davis worked under Theodore Edward Lyon.  The New York Times later explained that he "retained the title of associated headmaster at both schools, although devoting most of his attention to the girls' school."

The school had leased the house from Maria L. Aldrich for years.  Finally she sold the property to the Barnard School for Girls in July 1920.

Dated 1927 and labeled "Barnard School for Girls," this class picture includes six unexpected boys. 

In November 1934 the school sold moved to No. 554 Fort Washington Avenue and sold Convent Avenue property to the Millicent Realty Corporation.  It was converted to a rooming house.

The 1940 census shows 20 "lodgers" living here.  Almost all of them were unmarried.  Josephine Cooper was among the tenants in the building a decade later.  Her "vacation" which began in the autumn of 1950 was remarkable enough to earn newspaper attention.  The New York Age, one of Manhattan's most widely-read Black newspapers, reported on September 16, "A gala 'Farewell Party' was held last Sunday for Miss Josephine Cooper of 423 W. 148th St., who sailed on the Liberte Thursday on the first leg of a year's vacation which will ultimately take her to Lagos, Africa."

Another resident around that time was Sidney Evans.  In 1955 he worked as a doorman at a Times Square nightclub.  He was a witness to a violent encounter on the night of September 13 that year.  Frank (Frisco) McBride worked as a "portrait painter" in the Times Amusement Corp.  But that night he had been drinking--a lot.

When a man "pushed" him, according to McBride, he became enraged and rushed through the Times Square crowd to "get vengeance."  But he could not find the offender so he lashed out with a sharp beer can opener at passersby--stabbing them randomly.

Evans told police that McBride "seemed to become enraged all of a sudden."  McBride was tackled and subdued by two detectives.  He explained his behavior by simply saying "I must have been crazy drunk."

Today the building holds just two large residences.  Other than a fire escape and replacement windows, little has changed outwardly to the former school where Katherine Huguenin Davis diligently oversaw the virtue of her pupils.  

photographs by the author

The Ryder Henry House - No. 5 East 93rd Street

In 1891 construction began on six upscale residences on East 93rd Street, steps away from Central Park.  Designed by A. B. Ogden & Sons in the Renaissance Revival style, they were splashed with Romanesque Revival elements.   The builders were taking a gamble in placing the homes so far north.  At the time the only residence in the neighborhood was the Jacob Ruppert mansion across the street, which had stood in lonely isolation for nearly a decade.

The row was completed in 1892.  Each house was slightly different, yet designed to create a harmonious flow.  No. 5 greeted visitors with a broad brownstone stoop with sturdy wingwalls.  The steps widened as the western wall undulated away towards the sidewalk.

Four of the original row survive; No. 5 is the least altered, thanks to the Ryder family's nearly half century of occupancy.

Romanesque Revival made its appearance in the stubby columns flanking the entrance, and in the foliate carvings below the bowed bay above.  Both the parlor and second floors were faced in rough-cut stone.  Renaissance Revival took over in the pilasters and the carved frieze of the bay, before slightly conceding to Romanesque again in the arched upper floor windows.

The wainscoting, Romanesque newel and exquisite ceiling are original.  photo via Curbed New York

The house was sold to Isaac Hamburger and his wife, the former Fanny Levy.  Hamburger had come to New York in 1848 and established the tobacco firm of I. Hamburger & Co. in 1855.  Three years later the couple were married.  They had five children, three sons and two daughters.

By now Solomon and Benjamin had become partners in their father's firm.  And they were doing very well.  In 1890, "by the rise in Sumatra tobacco," according to the New-York Tribune, the company made $150,000--more than $4 million in profits by today's standards.

Both Isaac and Fanny were active in Jewish interests.  He was at one time the Supreme Grand Master in the District Grand Lodge No. 1 of the Independent Order Free Sons of Israel.  And Fanny, according to the United States Tobacco Journal years later, "was widely beloved for a lifetime of ardent devotion to her family and charitable work which was closely linked with her husband's extensive Masonic activity."

Wholesale tobacco was a family affair,.  Fanny's brother, David Levy, was head of the tobacco firm D. Levy & Son.  Trouble came in 1894 when that firm declared bankruptcy.  The failure was too much for David Levy, and he died shortly afterward.

Those troubles now spread to the Hamburger family.  Isaac had tried to help his brother-in-law financially and the unpaid loans lead in part to his own bankruptcy.  On March 1, 1895 the New-York Tribune reported that I. Hamburger & Co. "failed yesterday."  Although the Tribune reported that the "general depression in business" was thought to have been the principal cause; it added "The failure of D. Levy & Son, wholesale tobacco dealers a year ago is said to have been one of the causes of the assignment yesterday."

The Hamburgers managed to remain in the 93rd Street house for a while.  In 1896 a lien was filed against Isaac; and finally on May 12, 1898 it was sold in foreclosure to the mortgage holder, Louis Dannhauser for $43,615--nearly $1.3 million today.

The basement areaway is protected by low stone walls.  The architects created interest with the undulating lines of one of the stoop's wing walls.

Sixteen days later he sold the 21-foot wide house to Benjamin Lowenstein.  Like Hamburger, Lowenstein was a leader in Jewish causes.  He was also a trustee of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.   The Lowensteins had three daughters, Loretta, Emma and Carrie, and a son, Leo.

Benjamin had founded the Nassau Smelting & Refining Works with his brother, Moses.  Located on West 16th Street, it collected and reclaimed scrap metals--essentially an early recycling center.  But their business practices were sometimes shady.  The week before he purchased No. 5 East 93rd Street the Mongolia Metal Co. took out a full-page advertisement in Hardware magazine informing the trade that Benjamin and Moses had been found guilty of trade-mark infringement by stamping "Mongolia" on their bars of metal.  "BEWARE OF FRAUDULENT IMITATIONS" warned the ad.

Seven years later, on December 19, 1905, The New York Times ran the shocking story that Benjamin had been arraigned in the Tombs Court the day before "charged with grand larceny."  Lowenstein had conspired with a storekeeper's clerk for the Erie Railroad to falsify records concerning brass fittings in September 1904.

The Erie Railroad began closely inspecting the books in the first months of 1905, leading to Harry J. Ort's confession.  The fake numbers resulted in Lowenstein's pocketing an extra $1,270 in the deal.  Both men were held on $2,000 bail.  Unfortunately for Ort, his clerk's salary left him in less comfortable circumstances than his wealthy cohort.  The Times ended the article saying "Lowenstein sent his check for $2,000 to the City Chamberlain's Office and went back to his office, while Ort was locked up."

Loretta was the first of the sisters to marry.  Her wedding to Arthur Wallace in the Louis XVI Room of the St. Regis Hotel on November 25, 1909 was a glittering affair.  The Times reported "The wedding ceremony was held under a canopy of chrysanthemums, lilies, and palms, and at dinner after the reception in the marble banquet room the bride sat at a heart-shaped table strewn with white roses."

The family was back at the St. Regis for Carrie's marriage to Harry Groedel on February 21, 1918.   Emma, however, would never be married.  She died on January 2, 1923 while on a New Year's visit to Carrie's home in Newark, New Jersey.

The following year the Lowensteins moved to an apartment on West 110th Street.  No. 5 East 93rd Street became home to the Ryder Henry family.

A Baltimore native, Henry was relatively unknown in New York society at the time of his wedding in 1907.  The same could not be said of his bride, Louise Frelinghuysen Jackson, daughter of the wealthy William Henry Jackson and the former Mathilde Bruce Reynolds Jackson.  Her mother had been presented to Queen Victoria as a debutante.

The marriage took place in the Jackson mansion at No. 556 Madison Avenue, just off the corner of 56th Street.   The guest list that afternoon included names like Shepard, Livingston, and Van Rensselaer.

Henry's pedigree, nevertheless, could compete with his bride's.  He was a direct descendant of the 18th century governor or Maryland, John Henry.  His brother, Clement, married Louise's sister, Adelaide,  When the couple named a son Ryder Henry, it sowed the seeds of confusion in society columns years later.  Ryder's nephew was always referred to as Ryder Henry 2d as he earned social recognition.

Ryder and Louise would have two children.  Louise Frelinghuysen Henry was, obviously, named after her mother; while John Campbell Henry shared his name with his grandfather and great-great grandfather.

Louise's debutante luncheon on November 29, 1927 was far too large for the 93rd Street house to accommodate.  It was held in the Louis XVI ballroom and the Tapestry Room of the Park Lane Hotel.  Her mother scored a social coup when The Times led its listing of guests with nobility: the Countess Alexandrine von Beroldingen.  (Although born in New York City, she carried her ancestral German title, highly impressive to Manhattan socialites.)

The mother and daughter were soon hosting together.  The New York Times announced on November 13, 1928 "Mrs. Ryder Henry and Miss Louise Frelinghuysen Henry of 5 East Ninety-third Street will give a luncheon at the Park Lane on Nov,. 27 for Miss Alexandra Diodati Gardiner, debutante daughter of Mrs. Robert Alexander Gardiner."

The Henry family summered, most often, in Easthampton, and routinely appeared in the society pages rubbing shoulders with the elite.  Louise enjoyed a privileged upbringing, attending the exclusive Miss Nightingale's School, and then St. Timothy's School in Catonsville, Maryland.  As would be expected, she was now a member of the Junior League.

The heiress was, however, apparently in no great hurry to marry.  While other young women in her class often wed a year or two after their debuts, Louise's engagement to F. Douglass Clark was not announced until September 25, 1934. 

The wedding on November 28 that year drew headlines.  "Miss Louise Henry Wed in St. Jame's" announced The Times, with a sub-headline "Church is Massed in Blooms."  After a detailed description of the event, the guests, and the outfits, the article reported "The ceremony was followed by a reception at the home of the bride's parents, 5 East Ninety-third Street, which like the church was decorated with palms and chrysanthemums."

Four years later, after suffering an extended illness, Ryder Henry died on October 2, 1938.  He was buried in Cambridge, Maryland.

Louise and her son, who had attended the Berkshire School in Massachusetts, lived on in the house.  When World War II erupted, John Campbell Henry served with an Army anti-aircraft unit in Europe with the rank of lieutenant.  His impressive family background earned him memberships in the Colonial Lords of Manors, the Huguenot and St. Nicholas Societies.

His marriage to Margaret Riker Post on June 11, 1949 in the Church of the Incarnation was a significant social event.

The aging Louise was alone in the 93rd Street house and invited her spinster sister, Margaret Augusta Jackson, to live with her.  Margaret was proud of their lineal descent from French and Dutch settlers.  She had been a member of the Huguenot Society since 1893; serving as its secretary for three decades.  She also served as director general of the Daughters of the Holland Dames, and was a life member of the Colonial Dames of America.

Despite her advanced age, she seemed indefatigable.  She maintained her role as an officer in the Home Garden Society and a registrar of the Colonial Lords of the Manor.  For 35 years she served as secretary for the Society for the Relief of Poor Widows and Small Children.

But Louise would be alone again in 1952 after her 91-year old sister died in the house on January 14.  Nevertheless she remained here until her own death on April 24, 1965 at the age of 93.

The house became the "upper school" of the Columbia Grammar School.  The school was founded in 1764 in a one-room house by the Battery.  The lower school was housed a block away at Nos. 22-28 West 94th Street.

The mansion was returned to a single family home in 1998.  It was purchased in 2002 for $4.25 million by floral designer Lynn Jawitz who, according to Curbed New York, "set about sprucing it up with marble columns, a royal palace's worth of ornamental molding, and many different patterns of floor."

The Versailles-like parlor floor rooms (top) are Jawitz's creations.  photo via Curbed New York

Jawitz put redecorated mansion back on the market in 2011 for $24.5 million.   Perhaps her decorating scheme (resulting in what Curbed New York called a "medieval fairy tale townhouse") was a bit aggressive for buyers, and in 2014 the price was reduced to $20 million.

The Henry mansion is the last of the row to retain its original stoop (the stoop at No. 11 was recreated in 2011).  Outwardly it is little changed, thanks in a great part to the Henry family's four decade ownership.

non-credited photographs by the author

The Clarice -- No. 739 Ninth Avenue

Striker added the name CLARICE in a panel below the cornice.

Elsworth L. Striker came from an impressive background.  An ancestor, Jacobus Van Strycker had arrived in New Amsterdam in 1651.  In the decades before the Revolution, Jacob Stryker was a magistrate in the Court of New Amsterdam.  Through various marriages the Striker family would become connected with New York’s preeminent families, the Motts, Hoppers and Van Rensselaers among them.

John Hopper “the elder” acquired an estate in 1667, known as Hopper Farm.  It comprised 80 acres and spread from about Sixth Avenue to the Hudson River, and from approximately 48^th to 55^th Streets.  He built a house on the land for each of his sons.  His own house, Rosevale, sat near what is now 53^rd Street.  When James Striker married Mary Hopper, they moved into the house built in 1752 for John Hopper, Jr.

Part of John Hopper’s land was relegated to a family burial ground, at what would become the southwest corner of Ninth Avenue and 50^th Street.  When Hopper died in 1778, his will made his intentions for the graveyard clear.  It instructed that each descendant who took possession would preserve it “for the above-mentioned laudable purpose of burying.”  Each subsequent owner was directed to maintain “all that burying ground now in fence, consisting of 48 feet square parcel of said lot of land and commonly called the ‘family burying ground,’ with free ingress, egress, and regress into, on, and from the same, to bury the dead.”

The John Hopper house passed on to General Garrit Hopper Stryker, who died in 1869.  The land was passed to his son Ambrose Kingsland Striker (who continued to live in the old Hopper house).  The New York Times described the anachronistic cemetery on May 18, 1879.  The article explained that the elevated train station at Ninth Avenue and 50^th Street was called the “Grave-yard Station” because of the Hopper burial ground.  The Hopper-Striker land was now part of the depressed and dangerous Hell's Kitchen neighborhood.

By now only two sides of the cemetery's six-foot high stone wall remained.  The other sides of the graveyard were enclosed by the blank wall of a store on one side, and on the other by “a wooden tenement-house, from which a door opens upon it, and to which it makes a convenient front yard.”  The indigent Hell’s Kitchen residents apparently cared little about the sanctity of the graveyard.

“Near this door some of the mounds have been leveled, and a patch of ground a few feet square has been dug up and raked over so as to form a bit of a garden.  Dirty children tumble and play over the other graves, and among the tottering stones, and, above all, lines of newly-washed garments are blown about in the wind.  No tender recollections appear to cling to the spot, and its appearance is pathetic.”

When Ambrose Striker died a bachelor at the age of 50 in 1883, The Sun mentioned “The residence is said to be the oldest in the city…Old paintings adorn the walls of the mansion, and the collections include animals and minerals.”

Now this portion of the old Hopper Farm passed to Elsworth L. Striker.  The property once described as containing a garden “noted for its roses, its massive box hedges, its beautiful parterres laid in irregular shapes, its fruits and nuts,” was filled with dilapidated wooden houses and warren-like buildings.

Elsworth Striker lost no time in developing his inherited property.  Almost immediately he began erecting tenement buildings at a dizzying rate.  For example, on April 9, 1887 the Record & Guide announced that George B. Pelham was busy designing “forty-two brick and stone tenements and four flats” for Striker.  But two years before that project was underway, Elsworth had dealt with a problem—the family burial ground.

The graveyard as it appeared a year before its removal.  The New York of  Yesterday, 1908 (copyright expired)

The New York Times made an interesting observation.  “The lower side of the plot was reserved for the burial of the negro slaves of the family, and the last interment with its walls was that of a body of the last of these slaves, an old negro aunty who died some 30 years ago.”

Whether Elsworth L. Striker was aware of the covenants of John Hopper’s will or not is unclear.  Nevertheless in April 1885 he ordered all the graves exhumed and the remains moved to Woodlawn Cemetery.  Within a month the architectural firm of A. B. Ogden & Son filed plans for a “five-story brick store and tenement” to cost $35,000 (about $890,000 in 2016).

Elsworth's rapid development of his property resulted in improved housing for the destitute Hell’s Kitchen residents, as dilapidated wooden buildings made way for modern tenements.  (Unfortunately, so did a colonial graveyard and an 18^th century country mansion.)  The completed structure on the Hopper burial ground site was an eclectic mixture of styles—neo-Grec, Eastlake, and a generous splash of Queen Anne.  The building called the Clarice took three addresses.  Residents of the apartments upstairs entered through 400 West 50^th Street; the corner store space was a saloon, numbered 739 Ninth Avenue; and a second, smaller grocery store was at No. 737.

A. B. Ogden & Sons designed the exterior chimney backs, which appear to cascade down the facade, as an important part of the design.

Striker’s tenants were almost exclusively Irish immigrants.  While some were hard-working, others were involved in the many forms of crime for which the neighborhood was so notorious.

But before long Elsworth L. Striker would have other things to worry about than the lifestyles of his tenants.  In March 1890 the Hopper family, enraged and indigent over the destruction of the cemetery, sued Striker, “believing that they held the title to the old burying ground,” according to The New York Times.  The family claimed ownership of the apartment building and filed for “ejectment against Mr. Striker and his tenants.”  The newspaper valued the property at between $75,000 and $100,000.

It may have been the legal problems, or simply that Striker had overextended himself with his extensive building projects; but for whatever reason he lost the building in foreclosure on April 23 that year.  The successful bidder paid the bargain price of $68,875.

Residents passed through an attractive stone entrance on West 50th Street.  Note the faces peeking through the foliate capitals.

In the meantime, police paid attention to the goings-on at 400 West 50^th Street.  On December 1, 1889 Policeman Riley followed two teens, William Finnegan and Daniel Donohue, into the cellar.  There he caught them with about $200 worth of stolen electrical goods “packed and ready for removal,” according to The New York Times.  The boys, 18 and 19 years old respectively, were held at a staggering $1,000 bail.

Other residents found themselves behind bars throughout the next few years.   In September 1894 43-year old Charles Haldane, who listed himself as a lawyer, was arrested for larceny of trust funds; and in 1899 Michael T. Murphy, a streetcar conductor, was arrested for receiving 25 cases of stolen liquor.

In the meantime the saloon on the corner went through a succession of owners—all Irish.  Originally owned by Peter Doolan, who also lived upstairs, it was operated by John McCabe in 1898.  By 1914 the liquor license was held by Mary A. Kiernan, and in 1918 and 1919 by Jennie E. O’Keeff.  Because Prohibition began that year, she would be the last saloon owner at 739 Ninth Avenue for some time.

While the Irish saloon operated next door, Germans Koch & Feldscher ran the grocery store.  Frederick Feldscher was still at 737 Ninth Avenue in 1900 when he received approval to erect a sidewalk fruit stand in front of the store.

The apartments continued to be home to Irish-named residents into the 20^th century.  In 1901 Edward Murray’s name was published by the city when he was arrears on personal taxes.  Timothy Rooney lived here in 1905 when he was hired as a dock laborer, and Cornelius O’Leary earned his living in 1907 as an electric taxicab driver for the New York Transportation Company.

O’Leary had to appear before Judge Wahle in night court on October 19 that year after being arrested for driving his taxi at 20 miles per hour.  The Sun reported that he told the magistrate he did not believe he was driving that fast.  In response, Wahle began reading from a letter he had received from another taxi driver.  In part it said “I personally know fifty chauffeurs, and every one of them is a liar and brags about it.”

The New York Times reported “O’Leary did not protest his innocence, and Magistrate Wahle let him off with a $5 fine, the usual tax in such cases being $10.”

Other residents were Morris Mahoney who was seriously injured when a freight car crashed into a passenger train in Brooklyn on March 7, 1913; and retired policeman John H. Conran.  Born in County Kildare, Ireland, Conran died in his apartment here in July 1919.

The following year George Walz found himself in trouble with the law.  He was working as a truck driver for Louis Mouquin, Jr., who ran several restaurants in the city.   Prohibition did not quench his patrons’ thirst for alcohol, and when the threat first loomed, Mouquin had amassed an enormous stockpile of liquor and wine. 

On May 8, 1920 George Walz was stopped while driving his employer to his summer estate.  The following day the New-York Tribune reported “To Louis Mouquin jr…goes the distinction of being the first citizen to be arrested for transporting liquor from his city home to his country residence.”  When Walz was pulled over police found 105 cases of vermouth in the truck.  Both men were arrested for Prohibition violations.

By the midst of the Great Depression the complexion of the neighborhood, although still gritty, had noticeably changed.  In 1933 Arnold Lindstrom opened his ladies’ accessories shop in the former grocery store at 737.  With Prohibition ended that same year, 739 was quickly reestablished as a bar.  Once the watering hole of Irish laborers, it now served a mixed crowd.

On June 15, 1936 The New York Times reported “After a fight in a bar and grill at 739 Ninth Avenue, at the corner of Fiftieth Street, three Arabs were treated for stab wounds early this morning…Three other Arabs, who were with the injured men when the fight started with other customers, were not hurt.”

In 1951 737 became home to the Garden Delicatessen.  But traces of the old Hell’s Kitchen still remained.  On New Year’s Day 1957 40-year old Clarice resident Thomas Walsh and his “long-time partner” John Harty were arrested at 4:10 in the morning attempting to “roll” a sleeping man on the subway.  Police said their criminal records stretched back decades and both had served a four-month prison sentence for the same offense on New Year’s Day 1953.

Perhaps the greatest evidence of change in Hell’s Kitchen here occurred in 2011 when the space once home to Peter Doolan’s rough Irish saloon became Flaming Saddles—a cowboy-themed gay bar.     Ironically, 737 is now home to an Irish bar with a fake pub entrance replacing the former storefront.

The Hell's Kitchen neighborhood, once dangerous, impoverished and crime-ridden, is now trendy.

Above street level little has changed to Elsworth L. Striker’s 1885 tenement.  The Ninth Avenue storefronts have long ago been obliterated; however much remains of the original street level design on 50^th Street.  And no one living in the building or grabbing a slice of pizza downstairs can imagine that the building caused such immense trouble when it replaced a colonial cemetery.

photographs by the author