Arthur Bates Jennings's 1887 133 West 87th Street

 

On June 21, 1884, The Record & Guide reported that developer Charles L. Guilleaume, "will shortly commence the erection of seven three-story high-stoop private dwellings" on the north side of 87th Street just west of Ninth Avenue (later Columbus Avenue).  The article noted that Guilleaume's architect for the project was Arthur Bates Jennings, who had to squeeze the seven rowhouses into a 97-foot wide plot.  The article said that two would be 13.6-feet wide, two 14-feet, and the remaining three houses 15-feet-wide.

Jennings trained in the offices of architects John Correja, Russell Sturgis, and George B. Post, before opening his own office in the mid-1870s.  He would be best remembered for his college buildings and churches. 

The Record & Guide said that each house along the row would be "of different design in Rococo."  The term was misleading, at least by today's terminology.  Jennings designed the residences as either Queen Anne or Romanesque Revival in a balanced A-B-C-D-C-B-A configuration.

No. 133 West 87th Street was one of the B models.  Its highly eccentric design began with a rough-cut brownstone basement.  The Romanesque Revival-style parlor level was faced in planar brownstone, its three arched openings connected by a continuous projecting eyebrow.  For the second and third floors, Jennings turned to Queen Anne.  The incised lines of the end brick piers suggested fluted pilasters and terra cotta tiles suggested capitals.  The piers framed a highly unusual, two-story metal bay.  Rather than projecting outward, it was recessed into the structure, its front flush to the facade.  The spandrel panels were decorated with whimsical, stylized flowers.

The recessed bay is highly unusual.

Guilleaume may have financially stretched himself a bit thin on his project.  When they had not yet sold in May 1888, he lost them in foreclosure.  The New York Herald reported that 133 West 87th Street sold at auction for $16,000--about $544,000 in 2025 terms.  The owner, John J. Hughes, sought a quick turnaround.  An advertisement in the New York Herald in February 1889 offered:

For Sale--No. 133 West 87th St.: A handsome private house, three stories; now being elegantly decorated; trimmed throughout with finest cabinet work.

Hughes realized a satisfying profit on his investment.  The house was purchased on July 17, 1889 by Sanford J. Murray and his wife, the former Mary Eliza Bliss, for $18,500, or about $586,000 today.  Murray was 42 years old at the time, and Mary was 49.  They had no children.

The Murrays left for an extended period in 1894--possibly to Europe.  They advertised the house for rent, describing it as a "very finely and completely furnished three story brown stone house."  The ad was answered by prominent patent attorney George Reddington Blodgett.  

Blodgett and his wife, the former Katharine Buchanan Burr, had two children, George, Jr. and Katharine.  (Two sons had died in infancy.)

New Yorkers were enthralled when Admiral George Dewey visited the city in the fall of 1899, arriving on the Olympia.  On September 29, The Sun reported, "Admiral Dewey had spent nearly all the morning on the quarter deck, and the would-be visitors to the big warship had all had a good look at him and had all had an opportunity to cheer him."  In fact, not all had made it onto the ship.  

With the visitors cleared out, Dewey was on deck "examining his accumulating mail" at around 10:00.  The Sun said, "he saw one small boat turned away from the midship gangway of the flagship."

There was a woman and a little boy in this boat, and as it put back toward the shore the woe-begone expression on the youngster's face caught the Admiral's eye and he called his orderly and directed him to let the occupants of the boat come aboard, rule or no rule.

The article said, "The woman was Mrs. George R. Blodgett of 133 West Eighty-seventh street, and the boy was her son.  They were received with all the honors that had up to that time been accorded to any visitor of the ship."  Dewey gave young George a private tour of the ship.  The Sun said the boy, "was a mighty proud youngster when he returned to his mother's arms.  He was the envy, too, of the hundreds who had tried to get aboard the ship and couldn't."

It does not appear that the Murrays ever returned to West 87th Street.  Builder and contractor John Laimbeer, Jr. had taken possession by 1900.  Born in Brooklyn on September 22, 1860, he graduated from Columbia College in 1893 and married Wilhelmina Dulles Martin two years later.  Laimbeer had a long New York pedigree and was a member of the Sons of the Revolution.  He was, as well, an elder of the Collegiate Dutch Reformed Church.

The Laimbeers' residency would be relatively short.  They sold the house in March 1905 to Louise Jordan, the widow of Waldo H. Jordan, who had died in 1891.  Moving into the house with her was her daughter and son-in-law, Florence J. and Myron L. Coburn.

image via NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

On December 4, 1912, Louise transferred title to the house to Florence for $1.  Like their neighbors, the family had servants.  They advertised in the New York Herald in 1918, "Housework--A young, experienced white girl for general housework; no washing; city reference required; three adults."

(The mention of "no washing" implies that the family had at least one other servant.)

Louise Jordan died "suddenly" in the house on May 10, 1920.  (The term often referred to a heart attack or stroke.)  Myron and Florence Coburn remained here until July 1943, when they sold it to Ellan and Roger Kelly.  The sale initiated a string of quick resales.  M. C. Berg purchased 133 West 87th Street on June 3, 1946, then resold it five months later.

A renovation in 1955 resulted in two duplex apartments.  One of them became home to recording artist Wendy Carlos in 1969.  Born Walter Carlos on November 14, 1939, she was transgender and changed her name to Wendy.  She had moved to New York City in 1962 to study music composition at Columbia University.  A year before moving into 133 West 87th Street, she made her first mark within the musical industry with her album Switched-On Bach.  While living here, she composed the scores of Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange and The Shining, and for Walt Disney Productions' Tron.   

In 1975, she reconverted 133 West 87th Street to a single-family home with a "fine arts studio" in the basement.  She remained here until 1980.

The spectacular stained-glass entrance transom survives.

The house sold in 2021 for $4.35 million.

photographs by the author

The Eduardo Marzo House - 139 West 87th Street

On June 211, 1884 The Record & Guide reported "Charles L. Guilleaume will shortly commence the erection of seven three-story high-stoop private dwellings on the north side of Eighty-seventh street...west of Ninth avenue.  The fronts will be of Berea stone, brick, terra cotta and brown stone, each house being of different design in Rococo."  Building magazine noted that the project would cost $84,000--or about $317,000 each in today's money.

Guilleamue's determination to fit seven houses on the 97-foot wide plot is surprising, especially given the high-end residences rising in the immediate neighborhood.  The widest of his row would be No. 139 in center, at just 15-feet.   

The Record & Guide's description of the style as "Rococo" was a stretch, at least by today's terminology.  Architect Arthur Bates Jennings blended two rather diverse styles, Queen Anne and Romanesque Revival, for his balanced A-B-C-D-C-B-A row.  The individual No. 139 formed the centerpiece.

No. 139, the center of the seven-house row, claimed the spotlight.

The homes were completed in 1887.  The basement and parlor floors of No. 139, like its flanking neighbors, were clad in undressed brownstone, typical of the Romanesque Revival style.  Rather than iron railings, solid stone wing walls ran up the stoop.  Jennings chamfered the corners of the upper, brick faced floors, creating a striking cornice that wrapped the mansard level.  Asymmetry was a repeated theme in the Queen Anne style and the architect achieved it here in spades by off-setting the swan neck pediment and finial, then placing a miniature pseudo dormer at its side.

Guilleaume may have stretched himself a bit thin, financially, on his project.  When four of the houses--Nos. 135, 139, 143, and 145--had not sold in September 1888 he lost them in foreclosure.  No. 139 was purchased by the Metropolitan Life Insurance Co. for $18,000, in the neighborhood of $490,000 today.

Henry J. White, a partner in the auction house of King, Mallaby & White, had been leasing the house.  He briefly stayed on under his new landlords.  The year 1888 was a Presidential election year, and White made his opinions public by writing to the editor of The World that December.  "I did not vote for Cleveland because I am a civil-service reformer and do not believe his efforts in the direction were as energetic as they should have been."  He apparently could not bring himself to vote Republican, however.  "I abstained from voting the Presidential ticket."

Within the month White would have to find a new home.  The Metropolitan Life Insurance Company sold No. 139 the first week of January 1889 to Captain F. L. Norton for $20,000.

The head of the Norton Naval Construction and Shipbuilding Company, he was currently at work perfecting an unsinkable ship for use in life-saving efforts.  A year and a half after purchasing the 87th Street house, his efforts were coming to fruition.

On October 17, 1890 the New-York Tribune reported "The steamer F. L. Norton, built according to the Norton system of construction, was given a trial trip on the Delaware River to-day."  Norton was aboard his 58-foot prototype.  

A successful trial-run was crucial for him--it would result in a lucrative Government contract.  The article noted "The Norton boats have double bottoms with water and compressed air between them.  The claim is made that they are unsinkable and cannot be capsized."

"As soon as the Federal authorities have tested the boat, with a view to adopting the system for the Life-Saving Service, Captain Norton will sail in her for Europe" said the article.

The river trial was successful and Norton now planned to prove its seaworthiness.   And perhaps to underscore his confidence, he would take his wife and niece, Annie Rickaby, along.  The New-York Tribune reported "This will be the smallest steamer that ever attempted to cross the Atlantic, but Captain Norton is confident that the trip can be made in his boat with perfect safety."

The N. L. Norton left New London, Connecticut for Toulon on November 24.  On board were the Norton family and a crew of seven.  The French Government was poised to receive Norton upon completing the voyage and present him with an award for his life saving inventions.

But that would not come to pass.  On January 23, 1891 The New York Herald reported "Friends and relatives of Captain F. L. Norton are becoming very anxious as to the fate of the Captain and those on board the little steam life-boat F. L. Norton."  A cablegram had been received in New York on December 18 saying that the craft had been seen off Gilbratar; but since then there had been no word.

Norton had predicted the trip would take 16 to 20 days.  On February 18, 87 days after its departure, The Evening World reported that the officials of Norton's firm "have given the daring voyager up for lost."

The disaster resulted in a rapid turnover in ownership of the 87th Street house.  It was sold no fewer than five times before March 1901.  Finally the Eduardo Marzo family settled in for the long term.

Marzo was born in Naples, Italy on November 29, 1852 and came to the United States while still a child.  He was married to the former Clara L. Philbin.  The couple had four children, Clarence Philbin, Alberto Steven, Maria Josephine and Rita Elise.

An internationally-recognized composer, Marzo's works encompassed masses, vespers and other religious songs, orchestral preludes, piano pieces, children's cantatas and operatti, and secular songs and duets.  In 1884 he had been made a Knight of the Order of the Crown of Italy by King Umberto I.

Eduardo Marzo - original source unknown

The esteem in which Marzo and his works were held was evidenced in 1906 when he was recognized by the Pope.  The New Music Review reported "Mr. Edward Marzo, organist of the Church of the Holy Name of Jesus, New York City, has received from His Holiness Pope Benedict XV, Knighthood in the Order of St. Sylvester.  The distinction is conferred in recognition of Mr. Marzo as a composer of music for the Catholic Church, his work having received marked commendation from the late Pope Pius X."  The Papal distinction conferred the title of Chevalier on Marzo.

Marzo took on a few hand-picked private students.  The New York Times would later mention "As a vocal teacher he had among his pupils Mrs. Chester A. Arthur, wife of the former President, and members of the Vanderbilt, Bourne and other prominent New York families."

Although Clara was regularly listed in Club Women of New York, the Marzo name rarely appeared in the society columns.  The exceptions were the children's weddings.

The first was Clarence's marriage to Alvina Harriet Still on January 8, 1916.  The wedding took place in Cornwall-on-Hudson.  Rita was the maid of honor and Alberto the best man.  In reporting on the wedding The Sun aimed the spotlight on the groom, but not because of his acclaimed father.  The article's sub-headline read "Nephew of Justice Philbin Takes a Bride in Cornwall."

Clara's brother, Eugene Ambrose Philbin had been appointed by Governor William Sultzer to the New York Supreme Court in 1913.  It was a post he would retain until 1919 when he was appointed to the Appellate Division.

In a front-page article on August 23, 1918 The Suffolk County News reported on the engagement of Maria to William Kenneth Flanagan.  The article noted the news "is of much interest here because for a number of years Chevalier and Mrs. Marzo were summer residents of Sayville."

The announcement was rushed and the wedding took place the very next day.  Like many romances in which the future groom was in the military, the threat of deployment put things on a fast track.  

The news of Maria's married made it all the way to Juneau.  The Alaska Daily Empire, October 15, 1918 (copyright expired)

The newspaper noted that like her parents, Maria was a member of the Verdi Club, "the only musical organization in the United States which devotes its attention especially to music by the great Italian operatic master," and noted "Enrico Caruso is a charter member.  The president of the club is Mrs. Florence Foster Jenkins."

Following the ceremony in the Church of St. Ignatius Loyola a wedding breakfast was held in the 87th Street house.  Marzo had been doing his own part in the war effort.  In reporting on the event The New-York Tribune noted "Miss Marzo's father is a composer and recently was decorated by the King of Italy for his work in maintaining the musical standards in this country and Italy for his aid in war relief work."

Albert was married to Leonia Coudert in August 1925.  His parents, now empty-nesters, moved to the Bronx where Eduardo died at the age of 77 on June 7, 1929.

By 1934 No. 139 was used as the headquarters of Branch No. 2 of the Irish-American Independent Democratic Organization.  The group held weekly meetings.  On May 5 that year, for instance The Advocate reported that at the previous meeting "Those present stood up as a mark of respect to the memory of the late Patrick Greene, native of Fermoy, County Cork, whose daughter Anna, is a respected member of the branch."

Irish turned to French on November 29, 1976 when Chez des Amis moved in.  The travel agency had organized group tour to France for years from West 86th Street.  Now, explained The New York Times, it was moving "to bigger quarters."  The firm remained at least through 1980.

Much of Jennings's interior detail survives.  photo via streeteasy.com

Despite its use by at least two organizations, No. 139 was never converted to apartments.  It was home to artist Rifka Milder in the first years of the 21st century.  She offered to rent it in the spring of 2014 for $24,000 per month.  That may have been a bit pricey for most and the house was put on the market that November for $8.75 million.

photographs by the author

The 1886 Roe Mansion -- No. 174 West 72nd Street

Above the second floor, the noteworthy facade survives.  photo by Alice Lum

On December 13, 1861 Albert Seeley Roe married Rhuamy (known to friends and family as Amy) A. Chamberlain in the parlor of the bride’s parents at No. 432 4th Street.    The young groom would soon become successful in the lard refining business and a partner in Chamberlain, Roe & Co.

In the decades following the Civil War, as the Roes established their family, both the Upper East Side and West Side saw a flurry of development.  Albert and Amy chose the west, and in 1883 were living at No. 337 West 58^th Street.  That year would be tragic for the family when 12-year old Jessie Carpenter Roe, their second daughter, died of “brain fever” on Sunday May 27.

Three years after the tragedy, Albert Roe set architect Arthur Bates Jennings to work designing a rather monumental rowhouse at No. 174 West 72^nd Street.  Architects working on the Upper West Side at the time flexed their creative muscles to create wonderfully playful upscale residences.  

The Roe mansion was completed two years later in 1886.  Jennings produced a stone-fronted house that refused to forced into an historical box.  Romanesque Revival coexisted with a touch of Flemish Revival, topped with a slate-covered mansard roof.  The house sat above a tall English basement.  No two openings were alike and the architect skillfully incorporated arches, gables, engaged columns and carvings to achieve his four-story fantasy.

photo by Alice Lum

Albert Roe was considered a leader in the New York lard refining industry.  A few years earlier, when reports circulated that lard additives like tallow, water and cottonseed oil were being added to the product; reporters sought out Roe’s opinion.  Roe insisted that it was not New York refiners to blame.  Although adulterating lard was indeed a common practice, the inferior product was intended for “the Cuban and West Indian trade;” not for Americans.

“The trouble about the adulteration of lard,” said Roe, “originates with the lard-renderers like Armour & Co., of Chicago, and other firms in the West, and not with the refiners, who are as much annoyed by it as are the consumers.”

Within the decade Roe would add the railroads and stocks to his resume, becoming a Director of the New York, Ontario & Western Railway Company, and the brokerage firm of Compton & Roe.

With Amy and Albert in the new home were their sons, Alexander, Irving and Frank; and two daughters, Laura and Aurelia.   The mansion was the scene of a happy reception on February 12, 1896 following the wedding of Laura Bosworth Chamberlain Roe to Henry Burr Anthony in St. Agnes’s Chapel on West 92^nd Street.

photo by Alice Lum

Young Alexander Vinton Roe was sent off to Princeton University where he should have graduated in 1895.  Known as “Shad,” he did not make it through his sophomore year; and instead dropped out to go into business with his father.   He was made a member of Compton & Roe before leaving to start his own firm.

In 1901 Albert commissioned the highly-regarded architectural firm of Janes and Leo to update the residence.  The changes, according to The New York Times, on April 25, would cost him $1,500—about $40,000 today.

Alexander was still living with his parents and around this time.  He gave up on his own brokerage office and returned to what was now Millett, Roe & Hagen.   The Princeton University Decennial Record tactfully said he “finally has achieved the dignity of being the Board member of Millett, Roe & Hagen, a good firm, with offices in the Drexel building.”  The record added the tongue-in-cheek comment “Roe is, and always has been, an amateur of good horses, and if he ever gets married he is going to send his boys to Princeton.”

Next door to the Roes lived Dr. Julian P. Thomas.  Both Thomas and his wife were well-known amateur balloonists and their home was a popular attraction for tour buses—known as “rubberneck wagons.”  As each bus passed, its guide would announce the aerialist’s home.  It was an annoyance to the residents of the upscale neighborhood, not the least of which was Alexander Roe.

On January 10, 1907 The Sun comically described a guide’s narrative. “Onr lef twe’ve th’ome uv Dr. Julian-thomas thwell known ballonster.  Tha’s doctor settinon th’ stoop in thwhite duck soot!”

Alexander complained to the reporter “And then the doctor stands up and bows to the applause of the jays on the rubberneck wagon.”  The broker was as much irritated with the doctor’s response as with the tourists.  “Some summer evenings the doctor isn’t home.  He used to go down to a roof garden when the Fays were in town and often responded to requests for some of the audience to come upon the stage to help the Fays with their experiments.  But on other evenings, when he is on the steps, he bows gracefully to the plaudits of the rubber wagon.  It’s very annoying.”

Dr. and Mrs. Julian P. Thomas - Metropolitan Magazine, April 1908 (copyright expired)

Despite the aggravation of a celebrity neighbor, the Roes stayed on in their stone residence.   It was there, on November 19, 1916 that Amy Aims Chamberlain Roe died at the age of 78.  Her funeral was held in the house on December 1.  Less than a year later, on August 3, 1917 83-year old Albert died in the house.

By now the fashionable West 72^nd Street neighborhood had changed.  Apartment houses and commercial buildings were quickly replacing the mansions of a generation earlier.  The children of Amy and Albert Roe wasted little time in converting the family house.  In 1918 plans were announced to alter the building.   Architect Charles E. Birge drew up the plans which were executed by contractor R. MacDonald.

Completed a year later, the alterations had removed the stoop to create what the Department of Buildings termed a “store.”  Above were “not more than 15 rooms to be used for sleeping purposes.”

The converted mansion quickly filled with tenants.  On February 1, 1919 The Sun reported that the Piccadilly Tea Room had taken the street level.   In April the second floor became home to La Vera Shop; and apartments were leased to tenants like Henry Tilden Swan and Jerome Rosenberg.   In reporting on Rosenberg’s lease, The Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide said on March 29 “This completes the renting of the entire building, all leases having been closed within a period of sixty days.”  For the 3-room apartments tenants paid from $1,200 to $2,500 a year rent—about $1,200 to $2,300 a month in today’s dollars.

The Piccadilly served family meals for years ---the New-York Tribune, December 12, 1920 (copyright expired)

The Piccaddilly Tea Room remained in the space for several years.  But by 1935 it had been converted to a pharmacy.  It was here on December 1 that year that 63-year old Harry C. Krowl, head of the English Department of the College of the City of New York, suffered a fatal heart attack.  The bachelor’s identity was confirmed by the manager of the Ansonia Hotel where he lived.

Four years earlier boxing champion Benny Leonard, known as the Ghetto Wizard, had embarked on an ill-advised comeback.  That endeavor lasted one year before it was ended on October 7, 1932 by a TKO by future champion Jimmy McLarnin.    The former champ now looked for another means to market his name.  In 1937 he leased the lower three floors of the former Roe mansion as the site for a restaurant.

The architectural firm of Charles N. & Selig Whinston transformed what had been the Picadilly Tea Room and then a drugstore into a sleek, ’30s modern interior.   On July 19, 1937 The Times reported on its opening.  “The bar and grill is located on the street floor.  On the second floor, which has been converted into an oval mezzanine, is the restaurant, with its east wall covered with mural paintings.  Features of the place include air-conditioning, indirect lighting and acoustic-treated ceilings.”

A postcard reveals the sleek, modern interior of the restaurant.

The pugilist-turned-restaurateur found himself in court on January 7, 1938 after he accosted a waiter over a baked potato.  Louis Sacoff sued Leonard saying the former champion “had punched him for taking the potato for dinner on New Year’s Day.”  Sacoff, described by The New York Times as “a tall and heavy waiter,” had made himself lunch—“a plate of pot roast, together with the disputed baked potato.”  He testified that Leonard punched him “in reproof for extravagance in taking the potato.”

Leonard was smug in his own defense.  He told the judge, “If I had hit him, he wouldn’t have been able to come for a summons.”  The judge dismissed the case.

Benny Leonard had less success in operating his restaurant than he did in the ring or in court.  On November 8 that year The Times reported “The store, mezzanine and basement in 174 West Seventy-second Street, where Benny Leonard, the former pugilist, once operated a restaurant, has been leased to Louis Schindler and Paul Landau, who will open a bar and grill.”

Throughout the remainder of the century the lower floors would house a restaurant and the upper floors “furnished rooms.”  For decades the street level was home to Donohue’s, described by one publication as “an Irish dive bar.”  Jack Donohue died in 1995 and four years later Paul Hurley, an Irish immigrant, opened PD O’Hurley’s in the space.

A bit more polished than Donohue’s, PD O’Hurley’s was a popular spot for sports fans, tourists, and ale and beer drinkers in general.  The routinely good food made it a well-liked neighborhood spot.  Then, as with many small Manhattan businesses, the landlord increased the rent to the point that PD O’Hurley’s had to surrender.  On January 15, 2013 it closed its doors after 15 years.

The heavily-altered mansion is all that is left of the once-upscale neighborhood -- photo by Alice Lum

Today the pub is still vacant.  On the second floor is the Fred Astaire Dance Studios and upstairs are still small apartments.   Although the unfortunate brick addition that obliterated the two lower floors could never have been attractive; the upper three floors survive—a reminder of when this stretch of West 72^nd Street was lined with architecturally eccentric upscale homes.