Blum & Blum's 1912 780 West End Avenue

 

In 1888, when brothers George and Edward Blum were 9 and 12 years old, respectively, they arrived in New York from France.  They would both return to study at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Paris before opening the architectural office, Blum & Blum, in 1909 in New York.  Within the next two decades the Blum brothers would be responsible for at least 120 apartment houses.  Their grasp of French architectural trends that transcended their Beaux-Arts training—like Art Nouveau and Art Deco—would impact apartment designs in New York.  

Among Blum & Blum's earliest substantial commissions came from T. J. McLaughlin Sons in 1912.  It came at a time when aristocratic West End Avenue was changing from a thoroughfare of brick and brownstone mansions to high-end apartments.  On May 12, 1912, the New-York Tribune wrote:

The transformation of West End avenue into a greater apartment house thoroughfare is one of the most important features of the real estate market.  The row of dwelling houses No. 772 to 780 West End avenue...was bought last week by a builder, who will erect on the site a twelve story apartment house.

Blum & Blum embellished the white brick facade of 780 West End Avenue with lush art nouveau decoration in matching terra cotta.  Intricate tiles created window framework and bandcourses, while balconies atop elaborate art nouveau half-bowls were guarded by Vienna Successionist railings.

Most striking was the arched entrance.  Its intricate wrought iron doorway was outlined by swirling terra cotta shields and foliate forms within a story-and-a-half frame of complex tiles.

Potential residents could choose among apartments of 5, 6, or 7 rooms.  Among the first to move in were Edward B. Kinney and his wife Carrie.  The couple was married on April 20, 1899 and had three sons, Edward (who went by his middle name Sanford), Howard and Donald.

Kinney was a man of broad interests.  He was a partner in the mattress firm Wilcox & Kinney, was a professional organist, a vocal coach, and choirmaster.

advertisement from the 1912 Boston Symphony Orchestra Programme.

It was the Kinneys' religious affiliations that set them apart.  Edward was introduced to the Bahá’í Faith in 1895 and Carrie became an adherent shortly afterward.  On April 9, 1913, Star of the West reported that the headquarters of the New York Bahá’í Assembly would be "the home of Mr. and Mrs. Edward B. Kinney, 780 West End Avenue."  Their apartment was the scene of meetings, like the one on December 2, 1912 during which ‘Abdu’l-Bahá summarized "the Bahá’í approach to race, religion, and the progress of humanity most fully," according to historian Robert Stockman.

Walter Rockefeller Comfort was born in 1858 to Daniel Comfort and his wife, the former Mary Ellen Rockefeller.  He was president of seven companies, including the Reed Ice Cream Company and the Fruit and Land Co. of Florida; was a director in two banks and four corporations; treasurer of two firms; and a director of the Drew Theological Seminary.  He and his wife, Almira LaDue Comfort, had three children, Walter, Jr., Irene, and Eleanor.

The Comfort apartment was the scene of a society wedding on June 1, 1915 when Irene was married to Robcliff Vesey Jones.  Despite being a home wedding, Irene had three attendants and there were as many ushers.

It was social affairs like the Comfort-Jones wedding that brought attention to 780 West End Avenue until 1916.  Wealthy stock broker Leonard J. Field and his wife, Katherine Peters lived here at the time.  Katherine was described by the New-York Tribune as "a stage beauty."  When Field's father, stockbroker Jacob Field, retired in 1906, the New-York Tribune estimated his fortune at as much as $3 million (the figure would be closer to $105 million today).

Field had had a brush with ignominy in 1911 when he "figured in the scandal growing out of the alleged larceny...of  copper stock valued at more than $100,000 from F. Augustus Heinze," according to the New-York Tribune.  His indictment was dismissed.

Now his name was again in the newspapers for the wrong reasons.  On April 26, 1916, motion picture producer George A. Gullette sued Field for $100,000 for alienating his wife's affections.  Actress Grace Olive Gullette and the couple's four year old daughter were living in a "luxurious apartment," according to Gullette, directly across the street from Field at 771 West End Avenue.  Leonard Field was paying for that apartment.

The scandal only deepened when Grace Gullette's sister, Dorothy Schnidt, testified that Grace was not entirely to blame.  She said in part,

I was surprised she had changed her residency.  I learned for the first time that Mrs. Gullette was living with Mr. Field, under the name of Mrs. Leonard J. Field.  She had diamonds galore.  The apartment was gorgeously furnished.  Olive became hysterical and seemed irrational.  I learned later that a large amount of morphine had been administered to her.

The Evening World explained that Field kept Gullette under his control "by lavishing expensive gifts upon her and administering harmful drugs."  According to Dorothy Schnidt, he slipped a "white powder" into her tea.

When America entered World War I, socialites threw themselves into relief work, knitting socks or holding benefits, for instance.  Others, like Mathilde Delmetsch, were more proactive.  The recent debutante left the comfort of 780 West End Avenue to drive an ambulance for the Motor Corps of the National League for Woman's Service.

Mathilde's father, Richard Dolmetsch was the treasurer and director of the Egyptian Lacquer Manufacturing Company.  Like their neighbors, the family enjoyed an upscale lifestyle, including summers at fashionable resorts like White Sulfur Springs, West Virginia. 

While Mathilde was driving an ambulance, Harry C. W. Schultz de Brun of 385 Central Park West was fighting with the American Expeditionary Forces in France and Italy.  The well-educated young man held degrees from New York University, Fordham University and the University at Bordeaux, France.  

Whether the two knew one another from West End Avenue or if they met during the war is unclear, but on October 12, 1919, the New York Herald reported, "Mr. and Mrs. Richard Dolmetsch of 780 West End avenue have announced the engagement of their daughter, Miss Mathilde Dolmetsch to Major Harry c. W. Schultz de Brun."  

The wedding was scheduled for June 12, 1920 in the Collegiate Reformed Church.  In the meantime, Richard Dolmetsch stepped down from his position as treasurer of the Egyptian Lacquer Manufacturing Company, one that he had held since 1895.  A month before the wedding, it became clear why.

On May 13, 1920, the New-York Tribune reported that Richard Dolmetsch, "had refused to account to the corporation for about $6,000,000."  An auditing of the books revealed, "During Dolmetch's [sic] tenure as treasurer, it is alleged, about $8,000,000 passed through his hands and he deposited large sums in banks and trust companies to his account as trustee."  The courts directed Dolmetsch to repay Egyptian Lacquer Manufacturing Company the missing funds.  (It was a massive amount, equal to more than $90 million today.)

Mathilde, however, seemed unruffled by the scandal.  On June 7, the New York Herald reported she "will give a luncheon in the Hotel Astor on Thursday for her bridesmaids."  And, indeed, the wedding and the reception in the Plaza Hotel went on as planned.

That same year, a portion of the apartments were changed to cooperatives.  An advertisement on June 6, 1920 in The New York Times priced them at between $10,500 to $24,000--equal to between $160,000 and $365,000 in 2024.  For those not wanting to buy, rents for the smallest suites were the equivalent of $3,800 per month today.

Living here at the time were Fleming Hewitt Revell, Jr. and his wife, the former Marion Conrell.  The couple were married in Boston in 1911 and had a daughter, Muriel, who was born the following year.  A graduate of Yale, in 1907 Revell joined the publishing firm founded by his father, the Fleming H. Revell Company.  He would become president in 1929.

Perhaps the most celebrated residents were playwright Edwin Milton Royle and his actress wife Selena Fetter Royle.  Born in Lexington, Missouri in 1862, Royle's best known play was the 1905 The Squaw Man, which was adapted as Cecil B. DeMille's first Hollywood film in 1914.

Edwin Milton Royle image via mormonwiki.com

Selena Fetter-Royle was born in Kentucky in 1860.  Her first Broadway appearance was as Marquerite Otto in the 1892 production of Friends.  The couple had two daughters, Selena and Josephine.  

Selena Fetter-Royle, image via californiarevealed.org

In 1921, Edwin Milton Royle wrote the Broadway play Lancelot and Elaine with the roles of Guinevere and Elaine specifically created for his daughters, Selena and Josephine respectively.  Selena would go on to become an even more celebrated actress than her mother.

On February 17, 1942, the Daily News reported that Edwin Milton Royle had died in his apartment at the age of 79.  "Funeral services will be held in the Little Church Around the Corner at 2 P.M. tomorrow," said the article.  Selena Fetter-Royle later moved to Hollywood where she died at the age of 95 in 1955.

At least two residents of 780 West End Avenue were part of the anti-establishment movement in the second half of the century.  Morris Alan Older Grosmer lived here by the mid-1960s.  He was a member of Students for a Democratic Society, a national student activist organization known for demonstrations like campus sit-ins, organized marches on Washington, and sometimes violent clashes with police.  He landed on the Congressional Committee on Government Operations' list of "militancy, extremism, and violence," in 1969 after he participated in a trip to Communist Cuba the previous August.

Andrea Rosenberg was a Phi Beta Kappa anthropology major at Barnard in 1970.  On May 21, three undercover agents posing as prospective customers arrested her in her apartment.  They seized "six pounds of hashish, seven pounds of marijuana, along with quantities of LSD and amphetamines," according to the Columbia Daily Spectator.  "Police agents at the time of the arrest estimated the value of the drugs at $100,000, said the article."  She pleaded guilty and was placed on five years probation.

Blum & Blum's spectacular building is one of only a handful of significant art nouveau style structures in Manhattan.  Importantly, its exterior has survived astonishingly intact.

photographs by the author

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Lyndon P Smith's 1898 76 Irving Place

Born in 1815, Francis Ferdinand Marbury married Elizabeth McCoun in 1843, three years after being admitted to the New York Bar.  His success was rapid and by 1850 he had purchased a fine 26-foot wide home a block south of fashionable Gramercy Park, No. 76 Irving Place.  They had two children at the time and three more would be born in the new house, including their second daughter, Elisabeth Marbury, on June 19, 1856.  Elisabeth would go on to become one of the most influential women in New York social and theatrical circles, a noted and respected producer and literary agent.  She was, as well, a pioneer in same sex equality, later living openly in a relationship with actress and interior designer Elsie de Wolfe.

On March 9, 1895 The Evening Post reported "Francis F. Marbury, one of the oldest lawyers in the city, died yesterday at his home, No. 76 Irving Place."  A month later, almost to the day, an advertisement appeared in The Evening Post announcing the auction of "The handsome 4-story high-stoop and basement brick house."

The property was purchased by Pauline Scheible for $35,750, or just over $1 million in today's money.   It was not until February 5, 1897 that her architect, Lyndon P. Smith, would file plans to replace the old dwelling with a six-story brick and stone apartment building to cost $40,000--in the neighborhood of $1.27 million today.

Scheible's choice of architects is interesting.  Born in 1862, he had partnered with the architect John H. Edelmann to form the firm Edelmann & Smith in 1887.  That partnership dissolved in 1890 after the completion of their sole project together, the Riverside Baptist Church.   

Two years after being hired to design Pauline Scheible's flat house he would receive the commission to design the Bayard Building on Bleecker Street.  Smith collaborated with Chicago architect Louis Sullivan who designed the building's masterful facade.  After that Smith's name fades away.

For Scheible's project Smith faced the upper floors in beige Roman brick.  The openings--two per floor--were flanked by stylized Corinthian stone columns decorated with swirling bands.  Sinuous iron French style grills prevented flower pots or children from tumbling to the sidewalk.  The entrance sat within a limestone base above a short stoop, and it was at this level that Smith lavished his attention.  Drawing from the emerging Art Nouveau movement, he placed a portrait head above the window and embellished the entrance with flowing ribbons and meandering shapes flanked by two chubby youths (which were decidedly not in the Art Nouveau style).

The building was intended for well-to-do residents in keeping with the upscale neighborhood.  There was just one apartment per floor, each having eight rooms and two baths (one for the servants).  An advertisement in 1899 touted "Every known improvement.  Exceptionally fine decorations and fixtures."   Enjoying the location and amenities did not come cheaply.  Monthly rent in 1899 was the equivalent of about $4,250 a month today.

After her marriage to Floyd E. Baker in 1901 Pauline Scheible Baker sold the building to another female real estate operator, Lucy A. Knight.

At the time Joseph Harrington worked as the building's elevator boy.  Following a rash of burglaries in January and February he repeatedly took detectives to various apartments to interview residents who reported missing items.  Among the victims was artist Benjamin West Clinedinst whose gold watch was gone.

The tenants were no doubt shocked when Harrington was arrested on February 15 for the theft of Clinedinst's watch.  The Evening Post reported "he admitted that he had stolen the watch.  He had duplicate keys made for all the flats in the house."  The young man's motive was an old one: infatuation.  "He had stolen in order to give presents to a girl he was in love with, he said."

Clinedinst presumably got his watch back.  He had already achieved artistic success, having attended the Ecole des Beaus Arts in Paris and studied in the studios of Alexandre Cabanel and Léon Bonnat.  In 1900 he had won the Evans Prize of the American Water Color Society.  Specializing in battle pictures and portraits, his sitters included Mark Twain, Theodore Roosevelt, Bret Harte and Admiral Robert Peary.

Clindenst was known for his depictions of wartime scene.  image via lotsearch.net

Mary Hurley left her apartment at around 4:00 on March 26, 1901 to go shopping.  When she reached 20th Street around 4:00 "she was suddenly seized from behind, her hands pinioned, and her pocketbook pulled from her hand," according to The Evening Post.   Twenty-five-year old Joseph Lyman's getaway lasted only a few feet.

A passerby, Hubert Kelly saw the assault and seized Lyman, who tossed Mary's pocketbook, wrenched himself free and ran.  At 23rd Street Policeman Ringler nabbed him.  Mary regained her purse and justice prevailed.

The hair atop the sculptured head above the ground floor window mimics a day lily, an important motif in the Art Nouveau movement; and the hair at her shoulders resembles swirling ribbons more than tresses.

As G. A. Fuller prepared to leave for Europe in 1903, he gave a splendid description of his apartment which he hoped to lease.  His ad in the New-York Tribune on April 26 described his "elegantly appointed apartment" as "consisting of two parlors, four bedrooms, two baths, kitchen, private telephone, laundry, etc.; all modern conveniences; electric lights; elevator, night and day; party, on account of illness, going abroad at once; an opportunity for one wishing a First Class Apartment."

Mrs. Alexander Stewart, who lived in the third floor apartment, suffered a fright in December 1904.  A nephew, five-year old Finley Stewart, had been visiting for several days on December 9 when at around 2:00 that afternoon he was permitted to play with the niece of the building's janitor.  What Mrs. Stewart did not know was that soon afterword little May Wagner offered "to show the boy where Santa Claus held forth," according to The Sun.  They set out into the streets only to become hopelessly lost.

At 7:00 that evening Mrs. Stewart rushed to the second floor apartment of Third Deputy Police Commissioner Harris Lindsley.  He called Police Headquarters and set officers scrambling.

"By the time the alarm had been sent over the police wires," said The Sun, "the sergeant at the Charles Street station was listening to a tot with tear stained cheeks, who said he was 
Finley Gregg Auld Stewart.  With him was a six-year-old girl, who knew she was May Wagner and that her uncle was the janitor of an apartment house on Irving place, but just where she did not know."  Two policemen escorted the children back to No. 76 Irving Place where "There was great rejoicing in the home of Mrs. Stewart, on the third floor, and in the quarters of the janitor, in the basement."  The article noted that Commissioner Lindsley "was thanked by both."

Born in Nashville, Tennessee in 1870, Lindsley was the son of esteemed physician Dr. Van Sinderen Lindsley.  The Lindsley family had been in American since 1650.  Educated as an attorney, he had seen action in the Spanish-American War, then came to New York City in 1899 to practice law.  His career path changed the following year when he was appointed Third Deputy Police Commissioner.   The Memorial Cyclopedia of the Twentieth Century said of him, "He was very fond of athletics and devoted considerable of his leisure time to outdoor exercises, having played football while in college and afterwards polo, tennis, golf, etc."

Lindsley shared the apartment with his brother, Van Sinderen Lindsley.  A few months after the incident with little Finley Stewart, Commissioner Lindsley's engagement to Evelyn Pierrepont Willing was announced.   The couple traveled to Burlington, Vermont that summer where they were to be married.  

A week before the wedding, on August 14, they and Evelyn's young nephew, Ambrose Cramer, were in an automobile driven by chauffeur J. Adamson.   At about 4:00 the "big touring machine," as described by The New York Times, climbed a steep embankment leading to a railroad track.  The newspaper reported "There was a curve near the crossing.  Adamson says he did not see the train until it was upon them."

The powerful collision of automobile and locomotive threw the train off the rails, tore up the tracks for about 100 feet, and tossed the heavy vehicle into the air.  Upon impact the car rolled over and over for ten or fifteen feet.  The New York Press reported Miss Willing and Mr. Lindsley were hurled beside the track.  Their bodies were pierced by jagged fragments of the wooden sides of the car...Miss Willing's head was found resting on the maimed hand of her finance."  The New York Times added "The automobile was smashed to pieces and afterward destroyed by fire."

A policeman was sent from headquarters to No. 76 Irving Place to notify Van Sinderen Lindsley.  Told by a maid that he was out, the policeman waited uneasily in the parlor for his arrival.

Lindsley's body was returned to New York on August 16.  He lay in state in the 12th Regiment Armory under a guard of honor until his funeral on August 18.  The Memorial Cyclopedia of the Twentieth Century recounted "the bier was placed upon a gun carriage and escorted by the entire 12th Regiment and one thousand five hundred members of the Police Department to the Brick Presbyterian Church."

Free-standing stone columns flank the deeply-recessed windows of the upper floors.

In August 1919 the building was sold for $55,000 (about $815,000 today).  The Record & Guide reported "The purchaser is to alter the building, providing two apartments on a floor instead of one as of present."

Although now only half as large, the apartments continued to be home to well-heeled residents.  Among them was engineer and financier Frank B. Robinson, a widower, who shared an apartment with his daughter, Elsie Gertrude Robinson.  Robinson had been president of the Carbon Steel Company of Pittsburgh, which supplied the steel for the Manhattan Bridge.  He retired in 1910, but retained a large portion of the stock.  The New York Sun said that Robinson was "credited with being among the first to make professional baseball pay in this city.  He succeeded in making fans out of Richard (Boss) Croker, the Tammany leader, and Andrew Freedman, who later became one of the owners of the old New York Giants."  

On December 17, 1931 Robinson went to the Engineers' Club to celebrate his 78th birthday.  He had just walked through the doors when he suffered a fatal heart attack.

In the 1940's educator Elsie Clapp spent time in the apartment of her sister, Marjorie, who was married to James Myers.  Clapp, whose innovative ideas on education are credited with the development of modern schools, was the author of Community Schools in Action and The Use of Resources in Education.

Three of the French style window grills are still in place in 1941.  photo via NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The building underwent another renovation, completed in 1958, which resulted in four apartments on each floor.  One of those was briefly home to novelist and short story writer Patricia Highsmith in the 1960's.  Two of her works, Strangers on a Train and The Talented Mr. Ripley, were adapted for film, stage and television.  She was as well the author of the first lesbian novel with a happy ending, The Price of Salt, written under the pen name Clare Morgan.

A heinous crime which took place in one of the apartments in 1961 was solved by clever forensic work.   On October 5 28-year old Mack Jenkins broke into the apartment of a 28-year old electronics engineer.  He not only robbed, but raped her.  In fleeing he dropped his glasses.

The glasses were stamped with the optometrist's name.  The doctor identified the owner as Jenkins, described him, and mentioned that he had "a penchant for Village spots."  Detectives were detailed to watch coffee shops.  It did not take long for their patience to pay off.  On October 18 The New York Press reported "A Greenwich Village coffee house patron was held today on rape and robbery charges after police traced him through a pair of eyeglasses."  Jenkins received a sentence of 35 to 50 years in state prison.

Although the cornice has been lost and the entrance given regrettable replacement doors, this rare extant work of Lyndon P. Smith survives well intact, including those remarkable carvings on the ground floor.

photographs by the author

The 1914 Cedarcliff Apartments - 40-48 St. Nicholas Place

Having learned his trade in the architectural office of his father, George Brown Pelham, George Fred Pelham opened his own office in 1890.   His son, George Fred Pelham, Jr., joined the firm in 1910. 

Pelham's designs for apartment buildings, rowhouses and hotels were impressive; but not especially out of the ordinary.  He routinely turned to the same historic styles being used by any number of New York architects--Renaissance Revival and Gothic Revival, for instance.   But the apartment building project he took on for the Strathcona Construction Co. on St. Nicholas Place in 1913 would stand out.

Filling five building plots, The Cedarcliff was designed following the Parisian "courtyard apartments" scheme.  Interior apartments looked out on a central light court, affording additional light and ventilation.  But it was the Pelham's ornamentation that made the building special.

The relatively unadorned rusticated limestone featured a wide, double-doored entrance flanked by lampposts on pedestals.  Above it, two carved cornucopia spilled fruit on either side of a swagged shield.  The five stories of orange brick above would have been unremarkable were it not for the extraordinary, polychrome terra cotta ornaments that completed the design.

More than two stories tall, the decorations were a blend of Art Nouveau and neo-Baroque styles--the sort of lavish ornament that would soon make its appearance in the motion picture palaces of major cities.

In February 1914, immediately upon the Cedarcliff's completion it was sold, bringing a price of around $200,000--or just over $5 million today.

Apartments in the building ranged from three to four rooms each, and brought rents in 1916 from $33 to $45 per month.  The rent for the larger apartments would be equal to just over $1,000 per month today.  The size of the apartments and the affordable rents were a sign that the Sugar Hill neighborhood was sliding from upper- to middle-class.

Among the early tenants was Helen J. Moses, a registered nurse who worked in the Mount Sinai Dispensary in its Children's Social Service department.  Max M. Kotzen lived in the building in October 1918 when he was appointed a Commissioner of Deeds, a civil service post roughly equivalent to a notary public today.

Brothers Wilfred Whaley and Laurence Alexander Mack lived in the building in 1918, as well.  Laurence was the president of The Underwriter Printing and Publishing Company, publisher of The Weekly Underwriter.  Wilfred was the vice-president of the firm.  Their family's prestigious roots were evidenced in Laurence's memberships in the Society of Mayflower Descendants and the Sons of the Revolution.

When the United States entered World War I, Wilfred Mack joined the Army.  He did not see action, but was appointed to the Division of Finance and Accounts in the Quarter Master's section where he earned the rank of Captain in 1918.

Two other tenants were fighting in the war that year.  R. J Heisler was a member of one of the Army's Field Artillery battalions; and J. C. O'Brien was on the front lines in France.  His family received horrible news in October that year--just one month before the war's end--when he was listed as missing in action.

By 1923 artist Agnes B. Fernbach was living in the Cedarcliff.  Born on June 29, 1879, she had studied under the ground breaking Ernest Haskell and Alphonse Mucha.

Agnes B. Fernbach produced "In Roger Morris Park, in 1921, possibly when living in the Cedarcliff.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Scandal arrived at the Cedarcliff Apartments in 1931 when Thomas L. Cowan, described by The New York Age, as "one of the star agents in the employ of the New York office of the Victory Life Insurance Co.," was arrested for grand larceny.   Despite his impressive work record, questions arose in 1930 and in June he was fired for "alleged mishandling of the company's funds."  Now, after a closer inspection of the books, it was discovered that he had been collecting money for the purchase of company stock, but had "failed to render any accounting for his collections."

The New York Age, which ran the front page article about Cowan's troubles, was among the most influential Black newspapers of its time.  It was evidence of the continuing change in demographics in the Sugar Hill neighborhood.

The newspaper reported on a new social organization formed in the Cedarcliff the following year.  On March 12, 1932 it reported that the "Carleida Social Club held its first tea on Sunday afternoon, March 6, at the home of its president, 48 St. Nicholas place.  H. (Ali Oop) Smith and R. (Concordia) Kirby were among the guests present who mainly composed the club's church friends."  The article said that the highlight of the evening was "the many solos and speeches delivered by a few of the guests, the solo by the secretary was the main surprise, and everyone spent a most enjoyable evening."

A colorful tenant at the  time arrived in the form of Henry "Red" Allen and his family.  The jazz trumpeter and vocalist has been compared to Louis Armstrong.  According to biographer John Chilton, in his Ride, Red, Ride: The Life of Henry "Red" Allen, while living here in 1933 Allen was approached by composer Patrick "Spike" Hughes.  Hughes, says Chilton, "had regularly praised Red's recorded work."  When he arrived in New York for a long visit that year, Hughes "organized a series of recording sessions; among the first musicians that he invited to play on these dates was Red Allen."

Harris and Betty Perry had an apartment in the Cedarcliff in 1938.  Betty was 28-years old and worked as a domestic in the home of William R. Goodheart in Great Neck, Long Island.  At around 10:30 p.m. on Friday evening, January 21, 1938 she was riding in a car driven by Walter Kistler, another Great Neck resident, when it was involved in a three-car collision.

Betty refused medical attention at the scene and asked to be taken back to the Goodheart residence.  There she complained of dizziness and nausea.  She was taken to the Flushing Hospital, where she died of a fractured skull.  Authorities found the entire situation shady--not only because the seriously injured woman initially refused to be treated in a public hospital; but because the accident had never not been reported to authorities.

In 1939 Edward W. Simon had been a letter carrier for 14 years; and he was well known for his lodge activities.  But on February 25, 1939 The New York Age ran a headline reading "Edw. W. Simon Arrested in P.O. Theft" and began its article saying "Fraternal circles are buzzing this week over the arrest of Edward W. Simon, former power of Elkdom and one time exalted ruler of Manhattan Lodge, No. 45."  It was not the first time he had gotten into trouble shady conduct.  Simon's "exalted" status had crumbled when he was suspended from the Elks in 1937 "for refusing to give records to the Grand Lodge concerning the financial and business affairs of the lodge."

Toward the end of 1938 Post Office officials suspected that Simon was "rifling the mails" in search of cash or checks.  Decoy letters were slipped into the mail which would end up on his route.  The ruse worked and on February 14 Simon was arrested by Postal Inspector Dowley.

If Red Allen had given the Cedarcliff a musical reputation, it was enormously enhanced when the building was purchased by Lionel and Gladys Hampton.   Lionel, of course, was an internationally known jazz musician and bandleader, later inducted into the Jazz Hall of Fame.  And in his 1991 biography, There and Back, Roy Porter notes that in 1948 he "moved into a building owned by Lionel and Gladys Hampton at 48 St. Nicholas Place."

Porter was a jazz drummer who backed legends like Charlie Parker.  A year after moving into the Cedarcliff he organized and went on the road with a large band that included Eric Dolphy, Jimmy Knepper and Art Farmer.  Sadly, that was near the end of his glory days.  In the 1950's drug addition forced him to essentially withdraw from the music scene.

Another notable musician here had nothing to do with jazz.  Edward Margetson, called by The New York Age a "scion of West Indies musicians," operated his studio in his apartment in the early 1950's.  Interestingly, Margetson started his career as an organist and for decades was the organist at the Church of the Crucifixion.  His mother, according to The New York Age, was "considered one of the finest pianists of her time, and his father a skilled choral director on the Island of St. Kitts, British West Indies."

Having studied liturgical, symphonic and chamber music at Columbia University and the recipient of several grants and fellowships; in 1927 Margetson decided to introduce his Harlem neighbors to choral music.  He later explained "They said it couldn't be done...when I became obsessed with the idea that the entire community in which I lived should share the benefits of my musical education.  They said I couldn't interest laymen in joining a choral group, making rehearsals and sacrifices of time for the sheer love of music."

But "they" were wrong.  On December 20, 1952 The New York Age reported "The walls of staid Madison Ave. Presbyterian Church still echoed with the sound of vibrant voices and enthusiastic applause Sunday night" following the 25-year old group's performance.  The 47 members of the chorus included "dressmakers, tailors, clerks, laundrymen, housewives and the like."

In the early 1970's Chink Cunningham and his wife, Evelyn, lived here.  Cunningham ran an after-hours club on 148th Street at St. Nicholas Avenue with a partner, Johnny Walker.  According to Sonda K. Wilson in her Meet Me at the Theresa, "Those in the know understood that it was a numbers and bookmaking place.  Cunningham and Walker admitted a select clientele like Joe Louis, Lana Turner, Billy Daniels, Billy Eckstine, Romare Bearden, and Tallulah Bankhead, who loved to gulp down bourbon."

Cunningham was admitted to the Harkness Pavilion of the Columbia Presbyterian Hospital in July, 1973.  Two weeks later, on August 7, he checked himself out.  He died the next morning in his apartment in the Cedarcliff.

On January 7, 1975 a tenant called the elevator, only to find a horrifying sight when it arrived.  The body of 50-year old Eric Illidge was on the floor.  He had been shot in the head.  The New York Times reported "The body had been stuffed into two sea bags, one over the head, the other over the feet."

The renaissance of the Sugar Hill neighborhood has resulted in renovated apartments and an updated lobby; although much of George Fred Pelham's interior architectural details survive.  And outside, those remarkable terra cotta decorations still cause pause.

photographs by the author

The Lost Charles Schumann Sons Store - 716 Fifth Avenue

The Architectural Record, May 1912 (copyright expired)

In the first years of the 20th century the family of Andrew C. Zabriskie lived in the brownstone-fronted home at No. 716, one door away from West 56th Street.  Next door was the imposing corner mansion of wealthy cabinetmaker and decorator Charles Baudouine.  

At the time the commercial section of Fifth Avenue was still mainly below 34th Street.  Charles William Schumann's upscale jewelry store, for instance, was located in the Mortimer Building at the corner of 22nd Street.  But before long, one-by-one the homeowners along Millionaires Row would be pushed northward.

In 1910 the Zabriskie house (with the second floor bay), was the last house on the block still unaltered for business.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

In his 1891 book Art and Gems, Charles William Schumann took the opportunity to boast about his opulent store and business.  "Messrs. Schumann's Sons carry at all times a superb stock of diamonds, watches and jewelry...They cater to the very best class of trade and carry none but strictly fine goods.  They number a large proportion of the wealthiest and most aristocratic families of New York among their regular customers."

Charles Schumann died on November 4, 1903 at around 78-years old.  His three sons, Charles, Jr., George H. and William took over the operation of the store.  Although William was disabled, using a wheelchair to get around, he played a role in the business for several years.

As posh art galleries, jewelry shops and restaurants invaded the mansion district, Charles Schumann's Sons followed suit.  In April 1910 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that Andrew C. Zabriskie had leased his high-stooped home to Charles Schumann's Sons.  Included in the deal was another house at No. 2 West 56th Street--effectually forming an L-shaped plot.

The New-York Tribune explained on June 19 "The five story building on the Fifth avenue frontage of the plot will be replaced by a building for the exclusive use of the lessees.  The store and basement of the 56th street house are to be connected with the Fifth avenue structure, and its upper floors will be used for living purposes."

It did not take the Schumann brothers long to act on their project.  Within a month of signing the lease they had hired the architectural firm of Maynicke & Franke to design "a two story marble building at No. 716 5th av." and to renovate No. 2 West 56th Street around the corner.  Maynicke & Franke was well-known for its commercial designs; but this jewel of a structure would be like nothing they had done before.  In fact it would be like nothing in New York City.

The Art Nouveau style had first swept Europe in the 1890's.  Its sinuous flowing lines, inspired by natural forms like vines and flowers, found its way into all areas of decorative arts--from jewelry, textiles and pottery to furniture and architecture.  New Yorkers mostly shied away from the full-blown Art Nouveau structures like those found in Paris.   But now Maynicke & Franke would create an exception.

Writing in The Architectural Record in May 1912, critic C. Matlack Price preferred the American translation of the style's name.  "Departing from the traditions of earlier French architecture, and exemplifying with remarkable accuracy of feeling the type known as 'Modern French' is a jeweler's shop at 716 Fifth avenue, designed by Maynicke and Franke.  It is difficult, indeed, to realize that a facade so thoroughly and essentially 'Modern French' could have been produced in this country, for every detail is in accord with the feeling of that much-discussed and much-abused type of architecture."

To be sure, the Charles Schumann Sons building could have been plucked from the boulevards of Paris.  The ground floor show window, slightly curved at the upper corners, was divided by a wave of bronze which erupted into a sweeping glass marquee reminiscent of swirling can-can dancer's skirt.

Directly above it an undulating iron railing sat upon a marble balcony which fronted a commodious set of French doors.  They were crowned by an ambitious arched pediment.  The French motif was completed by two marble urns that perched upon paneled pedestals.

The store had barely relocated into its new home before it was the intended target of two clever thieves and the scene of considerable excitement.  At around 3:00 on July 12, 1912 two men walked into the jewelry store of Dreicer & Co.  The New York Times described one as "wearing a shepherd plaid suit and carrying a silver-headed cane" and the other as "less distinctively dressed, but carrying the same kind of a cane."  One man asked to see rings while the other looked over necklaces.  "A minute or two after they had gone," reported the newspaper, "the clerk who had been showing the necklaces found that two of them were missing."

Detectives were called in.  Armed with descriptions, they "hailed the nearest unoccupied taxicab and ordered speed."  They canvassed the avenue until the two culprits were spotted.  In a possible attempt to avoid being followed, the men ducked into the Central Park Menagerie, where they casually looked at the animals.  But then one made a critical mistake.  "Finally they saw one take a necklace out of his pocket and weigh it in his hand."

The detectives followed the pair down Fifth Avenue to Charles Schumann's Sons.  After waiting a few minutes, they followed them in.  "They found the pair looking over a tray of rings and placed them both under arrest."  When one protested, the policemen asked one how much money he had--the answer was $14.  "Well, how do you come to be buying $500 rings?"

The man was searched and had on him two necklaces, "one of platinum and pearls, worth $375, and the other of platinum, worth $42."  The stolen items would be worth more than $11,000 in today's money.

On October 23 that same year George H. Schumann died.  The jewelry business that his father had founded in 1849 would not last much longer.  On August 30, 1914 The New York Times reported that "The small white marble building at 716 Fifth Avenue...formerly occupied by Schumann's Sons, jewelers, has been leased by the French perfumery firm of D'Orsay, Incorporated."

The Parisian-style building could not have been more appropriate for a French perfume store.  But, sadly, it did not work out.  After exactly one year into D'Orsay's 15-year lease, The Metropolitan Trust Company took it over.  In announcing the deal the Record & Guide reminded readers "The D'Orsay firm rented the building last fall from Schumann & Sons who had originally leased the property from the Zabriskie Estate for twenty-one years."  The article added that the financial firm intended to open an uptown branch in the building.

But that was not the only intention for the building.  The Art Nouveau style was not only falling from fashion, but it most definitely did not reflect the serious business of banking.  The Metropolitan Trust Company commissioned the architectural firm of Holmes & Winslow to convert the structure to what The New York Times, on October 24, 1915, said would be "an artistic two-story structure."  The article noted "The facade of the building will be extensively altered and work is now under way.  The front will be of white marble in a classic design."

The trade journal Trust Companies published Holmes & Winslow's rendering in its July 1915 issue. (copyright expired)

Sadly, while New York City had had essentially only one exuberant Art Nouveau building, it had dozens of bank buildings of "classic design."  The remodeled facade, while attractive, was in no way special.  Classical pilasters rose two stories beside the entrance and great arched window.  A Roman parapet sat above the cornice.  Inside, the banking room rose the full height, lighted both by the Fifth Avenue window and a "decorative skylight."

The remodeled building opened on March 6, 1916.  The Metropolitan Trust Company announced the new branch saying that "Personal accounts of men and women residing in the uptown district, will receive special attention at our new Fifth Avenue Office."

Nine years later on May 10, 1925, The New York Times announced that the Chatham and Phoenix Bank had "absorbed the Metropolitan Trust Company and acquired its branch at 716 Fifth Avenue."  It would retain a branch at the location only for three more years.

On January 19, 1928 the New York Evening Post reported that the bank had subleased the building to the Ming Sun Company, "Chinese art goods."  But once again, it was a short-lived residency.  In July 1931 auctioneers Brill & Brill sold the entire stock of imported Chinese items.

Next to lease the building was Pillori, Inc., which signed a lease in April 1932.  The firm imported goods like "Italian linens and laces, Venetian glass, Florentine hand tooled leather."  But it too failed to make it at No. 716 Fifth Avenue.  Bing & Bing was back in February 1933 to liquidate the stock.

Long Sang Ti tried its hand at selling Chinese art objects here.  The store lasted until June 1939 when, once again, Brill & Brill was at the familiar location to auction off the entire collection of "Imperial jade, coral, amber, ivory, agate, rock crystal, carnelian, amethyst, apis lazuli, screens, bowls, silks, teakwood furniture, embroideries, Mandarin coats and wood carvings."

Frances H. Zabriskie now leased the building to James Robinson, Inc., dealers in old English silver.  Before moving in the structure was remodeled again.  Architect Van G. Pruit created a neo-Classical facade with carved swags within recessed panels and a blind balustrade along the roofline.  

Pruitt's rendering was slightly different from the finished product.  The New York Sun, September 7, 1939

As always, the Fifth Avenue Association annually judged the architectural changes along the Queen of Avenues.  On March 22, 1940 No. 716 Fifth Avenue was awarded a gold medal.  But the architect may have been just a bit miffed at the association's presentation.  The gold medal was given to Frances H. Zabriski, while Pruitt received a certificate of merit.

The little building survived for four more decades; home to the executive offices of the Custom Shop Shirtmakers by 1980.  

Then, on February 15, 1985 Michael Blumstein, writing in The New York Times said "They are two small, dignified buildings on the west side of Fifth Avenue, Nos. 712 and 714.  Pedestrians pay them little heed, as their stores are shuttered and their offices empty.  But these buildings, between 55th and 56th Streets, are at the center of an enormous battle being fought by two of Manhattan's most powerful interests: its real-estate developers and its preservationists."

Steadsol Fifth Associates had assembled the parcel of Nos. 712 through 716 along with the No. 716's rear lot to 56th Street with the intention of erecting a 44-story office and residential tower.  The plan would involve the demolition of Nos. 712 and 714.

No. 716 is second from right.  photo by Keith Meyers for The New York Times February 15, 1985

The facade of the former Coty Building at No. 714 was preserved thanks to its three-story art glass windows by Rene Lalique.  No. 716 was demolished.  A new stone, four-story facade that pretends to be a remodeled mansion stands on the site of one of New York City's most remarkable architectural treasures, sadly not recognized as such in 1915.

No. 716, at the right, is designed to appear to be a converted Gilded Age structure. photo via 6sqft.com