The Purdy and Guilfoy Houses - 640-642 West 158th Street

No. 640 (center left) and 642, both now rather dismal looking, were originally exact matches.

In the 18th century the land far north of the city--areas which would later earn the names Washington Heights, Harlem and Harlem Heights, for instance--was dotted with farms and the country estates of the wealthy, like the elegant Georgian mansion of Roger Morris (known today as the Morris-Jumel Mansion).

The area's refreshing breezes and hilly geography continued to lure wealthy residents for decades following the Revolution.  In 1841 renowned naturalist and illustrator James John Audubon purchased 20 acres of the former estate of British Colonel John Maunsell, which had been enlarged by his nephew John Watkins.  Audubon erected a home here where he lived with his family until his death in January 1851.

Audubon's widow, Lucy, left the estate in 1854 and leased the house.  When she died in 1874 at the age of 86 the area was still sparsely developed.  But that began to change as improvements in public transportation inched northward.  By the mid 1880s rowhouses appeared around what was now known as Audubon Park and within a decade development was in full swing.

In 1896 architect John P. Leo got in on the trend.  He and investor John G. R. Lillienthal bought eight plots along West 158th Street from another architect, August W. Cordes.   Leo designed the houses in a nearly-balanced A-B-B-A-A-B-B-C plan.  Why No. 648 stood starkly apart from the otherwise symmetrical row is puzzling.

Among the first of the homes to be sold was No. 640.  The 18-foot wide house was purchased by the 34-year old E. Lawson Purdy in June 1897.  The son of an Episcopal minister, he was educated at St. Paul's School in Concord, Massachusetts, and at Trinity College.

By the time Purdy moved his family into the new home, his career had taken a drastic turn.  He had started out with the New York Bank Note Company; but around 1890 he read Henry George's Progress and Poverty.  More than half a century later a close friend, V. G. Peterson commented on the impact the book had on Purdy.  "Soon afterwards he deserted business to enter the field of tax reform."  In 1896 he was appointed secretary of the Tax Reform Association, the goal of which was to improve unfair tax laws

Three months after Purdy bought No. 640, J. G. Creamer purchased the house next door.   But he never had a chance to move in.  The wealthy attorney was a member of the Harvard Club and was generally well respected.  But he had developed some eccentricities that caused several of his formerly-close friends to avoid him.

Just a month after he purchased the 158th Street house, The Sun explained "Two years or more ago, it is said, Mr. Creamer was set upon by a gang of toughs late at night in this city, and was pummeled with brass knuckles.  He was ill for some time.  After his apparent recovery, it was observed that he had queer notions on one or two subjects, although perfectly rational in every other way."

Among his "queer notions" was the belief that he was a connoisseur of fine wines.  It was a affectation that had caused wealthy people summering at Saratoga that year to be "alternately amused and annoyed."   The newspaper noted "He would approach persons with whom he had only the slightest acquaintance, insist upon their drinking with him and listening while he discoursed on the quality of the wine.  His manner at such times was abrupt and excitable."

Creamer had not yet moved into No. 642 on September 26 when he landed in Jefferson Market Police dressed for an evening out.  The Sun reported "he was dressed in evening clothes, and carried a silk hat, overcoat, and a walking stick."   He had been arrested, along with two women, Nellie Daly and Rena Anderson by Policeman Pierson--Creamer for intoxication and the women for stealing $70 from the attorney.

Creamer create a scene of sorts.  He "vigorously protested that he was not intoxicated at the time, and called Pierson a liar."  The judge's reprimand caused him to apologize.  The two women insisted that they had not stolen the $70, but that Creamer had given it to them "in a burst of generosity."  It was a generous burst, indeed, equaling more than $2,000 today.  Creamer confirmed their story and they were released.

It was one of final episodes of the wealthy attorney's embarrassing public displays.  On October 2, 1897 The Sun ran a headline "J. G. Creamer's Insanity" and reported "His friends were convinced that the only way to avoid more and more frequent outbursts, with their disagreeable consequences, was to have him confined where his head could be treated."

Instead of Creamer, the Purdys' new neighbors became the Dr. William H. Guilfoy family.  The physician and his wife, the former Mary Powers, had four daughters, Alice, Mary, Florence and Kathryn, and a son, William Jr.

Born in lower Manhattan to Irish immigrant parents in 1860, Dr. Guilfoy had the distinction of being the first person to take a competitive civil service examination in New York State.  It resulted in his being appointed a medical clerk in the Health Department in March 1885.  In 1901 he was appointed Registrar of the Department.  In this post he changed the course of medicine by establishing vital statistics records.

His detailed statistics recorded death and birth rates, causes of deaths and illnesses, and enabled medical authorities to recognize patterns and developing epidemics.  On April 6, 1909, for instance, he released figures showing that deaths among children under one year old that week totaled 324, up from 294 that same period the previous year.  He attributed the increase "largely to the great prevalence of grip" (or influenza).

At the time that Guilfoy was made Registrar, Purdy was the Secretary of the New-York Tax Reform Association.   On November 9, 1906 he was appointed president of the Tax Department by Mayor George B. McClellan .  In reporting on the appointment, The Sun noted "He has been a prime mover in the presentation of bills to the State Legislature for the purpose of establishing changes for the benefit of the taxpayer....He has written several books on the subject of tax problems."

Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, June 19, 1915 (copyright expired)

The mayor had dismissed Purdy's affiliation with Tammany Hall.  The Sun explained "Mayor McClellan intimated yesterday that in appointing Mr. Purdy he had not given so much regard to Mr. Purdy's political leanings as to the fact that he was one of the foremost experts on questions of taxation."

The two highly-visible neighbors would remain in the twin houses for decades, both regularly appearing in the newspapers for their commendable actions and sometimes controversial comments.

Railing at the city government for its less-than-aggressive crackdown on the cocaine epidemic in 1912, Guilfoy did not hold back.  "The punishment of the trafficker in cocaine should be as drastic as that meted out to the man who menaces society with a revolver or a stiletto," he told reporters on December 3.

Calling incurable addicts "fiends," he made what would be deemed a sexist distinction between an addict and a user.  "I have heard of cases where men got over the habit after becoming slaves to it, but I have never heard of a woman fiend being able to stop its use once she became addicted to the drug."

Early 20th century scientific and medical research scrambled to keep up with a changing world; a fact reflected in a judgment Guilfoy made during a coroner's inquest in 1916.   William H. Noll and his wife, Miranda, had been married only five days on January 22, when he decided to "tinker" with his automobile.  Because of the frigid winter temperature, the garage was tightly closed.  Miranda sat inside the car and her husband worked.  The following morning they were both found dead.

Their deaths were said to be "petromortis," or death by gasoline.  The coroner said that "he had never heard of a fatal result from inhaling gasolene fumes," said the New-York Tribune; and Guilfoy concurred, saying he had never come across a case of gasoline poisoning.  "The fumes of all coal tar products are dangerous," he said, "if breathed to any extent, but I never heard of this newly invented disease."  We recognize their deaths today, of course, to carbon monixide poisoning.

Later that year Dr. Guilfoy would be dealing with a more far-reaching problem.  Infantile paralysis, or polio, had broken out within the city in alarming numbers.  In the month of June there were nearly 400 cases reported.  The analysis produced by Guilfoy's department analysis was terrifying.  On July 4, 1916 The New York Times said "Dr. William H. Guilfoy...estimated yesterday that, in the last few days, there had been one death from infantile paralysis every two and a half hours.  He added that this rate showed no signs of diminishing."

The Health Department took drastic action after 72 new cases were reported on July 3 and 23 deaths had occurred in the past 24 hours.  The Health Commissioner announced that "children under 16 years of age will be forbidden [to enter] the motion-picture theatres in this city all Summer."  Any movie theater found admitting youngsters would lose its license.

In 1921 Lawson Purdy (he had stopped using his first initial by now) was also known for his helping create the city's zoning laws.  As a matter of fact, The New York Herald deemed him the "Father of Zoning Law."   At a meeting of the American Society of Civil Engineers on December 21 that year, he attacked what he considered a serious problem--the upsurge in neon advertising signs.

Purdy was most disturbed by the flashing lights of 42nd Street and proposed to get rid of them.  "I am inclined to believe that outdoor signs, with the exception of the small sign advertising what may be sold or made on the premises, ought not to have any place on the public streets," he said.

When asked specifically about Times Square, he called the neon lights there "hideous and disgraceful."  Obviously, it was one issue where Purdy did not get his way; and resulted in the brilliant neon displays that helped make Times Square internationally recognizable.

Next door Mary Guilfoy had received her teaching license that year.  And by now the Guifoy household included John F. Redmond, who had married Alice in 1917.  He was the managing editor of Editor & Publisher magazine.   Like his father-in-law, who was a member of the American Irish Historical Society, Redford was proud of his roots and a member of The Society of the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick.

Independence day 1923 was not one of celebration in the Guilfoy house.  Instead it was the scene of Redford's funeral.  The young man had died two days earlier.

After 45 years working for the city, Guilfoy retired on July 1, 1929.  The Times said "It was one of Dr. Guilfoy's favorite pastimes to point out that he had seen the death rate of the city decrease from 28 per 1,000 to 11.75 per 1,000, and had observed the attitude of the city administration change toward such matters as sanitation and hygiene with old dangerous methods supplanted by modern safeguards to the public health."

On Friday, May 17, 1935 the 75-year old became ill.  His condition worsened to pneumonia and he died in the 158th Street house on May 23.  His funeral was held in the nearby Church of Our Lady of Esperanza two days later.   Mary Powers Guilfoy died on August 27, 1942.

Two years before Mary's death, Lawson Purdy had sold No. 640 to Goulbourne Clarke "for investment."   The Guifoy house became home to Martin Lowenthall and his bride, the former Margot Kaztenstein.  The couple announced the arrive of their son, Eric Harold, on December 22, 1946.

By the last quarter of the 20th century the block had significantly declined.  The once-proud houses suffered neglect and abuse.  In 1991 renovations were done on No. 642, still a one-family home, which might have made Mary Guifoy shudder.

The staircase is original, the wedged-in columns with the non-matching gilded capitals are not.

A bathroom in the renovated No. 640 has a decidedly Las Vegas flair. above photos via beatingupwind.com

In 1994 the Purdy house was converted to apartments, one each on the lower floors and two on the top.

For reasons known only to the Landmarks Preservation Commission, when the Audubon Park Historic District was designated in 2009 it stopped abruptly at the John P. Leo designed row.  The twin houses, once home to two of New York City's movers and shakers, are at the mercy of current and future homeowners.

photographs by the author

The Lost John James Audubon House--Riverside Drive near 156th Street

When the Audubon house was completed in 1842, it was surrounded by verdant woodlands  watercolor by William Rickarby Miller, 1857.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Riding on the success of his The Birds of America, in 1841 naturalist artist John James Audubon purchased 14 acres of wooded land far north of the city overlooking the Hudson River.   The family was temporarily living at No. 86 White Street; but Audubon notoriously disliked cities.

Located just above what would become 155th Street, the untouched terrain contained mature elms, dogwoods and tulip trees; and water features like ponds, creeks and a small waterfall.  He registered his triangular-shaped land purchase as "Minnie's Land."

Audubon and his family had lived in Scotland while he prepared The Birds of America and his sons, Victor and John, had begun using the word "Minnie" to refer to their mother, Lucy Bakewell Audubon.  It was a Scottish endearment meaning "mother."

Audubon transferred the title to Lucy, reportedly to thank her for the decades of difficulty and separation she suffered while he worked on the book.  He erected a comfortable frame house that sat above a stone basement.  A hip roof rose above the shallow attic level, and wide matching porches at the front and back offered cool respite in summer.  The house was situated close enough to the river to enjoy breathtaking views.  The family moved in in the spring of 1842.

The Audubon boys appear to be playing two-man baseball.  etching from Valentine's Manual of the City of New York, 1864

Although Minnie's Land is often thought of as a summer estate--and indeed there were several in the upper reaches of Manhattan--this was a year-round working farm.  It contained fruit orchards, vegetable gardens, and livestock enclosures.  The family was therefore self-sufficient; eggs, milk, meat, fruits and vegetables were supplemented with fish from the river and game from the forest.

In 1846 the Audubons hosted Samuel Morse.  The inventor had been working on a telegraph line that stretched from Philadelphia to Fort Lee, New Jersey, across the Hudson River from Minnie's Land.  The line was completed that year and Morse used his friend's house for the trial run.  The New York Times later reported "A receiving office for messages was opened on this side of the river in the house of Audubon, the naturalist, and two Whitehall boatmen were engaged to keep up the communication."

As Audubon worked on his book Quadrupeds of North America in 1843, the grounds filled with his subjects.  In her 1898 book Audubon and his Journals, Maria R. Audubon explained "many animals (deer, elk, moose, bears, wolves, foxes, and smaller quadrupeds) were kept in inclosures--never cages--mostly about a quarter of a mile distant from the river, near the little building known as the 'painting house.'"


William Cullen Bryant later described the drawing room in his book Homes of American Authors:

"It was not, however, a parlor, or an ordinary reception-room that I entered, but evidently a room for work.  In one corner stood a painter's easel, with a half-finished sketch of a beaver on the paper; in the other lay the skin of an American panther.  The antlers of elks hung upon the walls; stuffed birds of every description of gay plumage ornamented the mantle-piece; and exquisite drawings of field-mice, orioles, and wood-peckers, were scattered promiscuously in other parts of the room, across one end of which a long rude table was stretched to hold artist materials, scraps of drawing-paper, and immense folio volumes, filled with delicious paintings of birds taken in their native haunts."

The famous painter's career was quickly coming to an end, however.  He was already showing signs of what today we would recognize as dementia.  In 1846 a close friend, Dr. Thomas M. Brewer of Boston visited and was disturbed at Audubon's condition.

He wrote in his journal "The patriarch had greatly changed since I had last seen him.  He wore his hair longer, and it now hung down in locks of snowy whiteness on his shoulders.  His once piercing gray eyes, though still bright, had already begun to fail him.  He could no longer paint with his wonted accuracy, and had at last, most reluctantly, been forced to surrender to his sons the task of completing the illustrations of the 'Quadrupeds of North America.'  Surrounded by his large family, including his devoted wife, his two sons with their wives, and quite a troop of grandchildren, his enjoyments of life seemed to leave him little to desire."

The New York Times remembered decades later "In 1847 the brilliant intellect began to be dimmed; at first it was only the difficulty of finding the right word to express an idea, the gradual lessening of interest, and this increased till in May, 1848, Dr. Bachman tells the pathetic close of the enthusiastic and active life: 'Alas, my poor friend Audubon!  The outlines of his beautiful face and form are there, but his noble mind is all in ruins.  It is indescribably sad.'"

On January 27, 1851 Audubon died at the age of 71.  The New York Times noted simply "The latter years of his life were passed in quiet retirement."  The New-York Daily Tribune was more poetic, saying "He departed full of days and rich in honors, and his end was worthy of his life."

The funeral was held in the house (by now the spelling had become a single word: Minniesland) on January 29.  "It was largely attended by the friends of the family and other citizens," reported the Tribune.  "The funeral was wholly unostentatious and simple."  Audubon's body was removed to the family vault in Trinity Church Cemetery, which abutted the Audubon property.

Although the family struggled to keep financially afloat--Victor and John worked on Quadrupeds and attempted to sell subscriptions--Lucy was forced to sell off land.  In 1869 Miller's New Guide to the Hudson River callously described, "within a very short distance of the Cemetery...is what is rather pompously called Audubon Park, being a small estate of a few acres which formerly belonged to Audubon, and which, since his death, has been cut up into building-lots, and had received this high-sounding name.  Audubon's house is still standing, a plain unpretending affair, occupied, we believe, by what is left of his family."

Finally in March 1872 she sold her beloved house to 54-year old Jesse Wheeler Benedict.  Benedict had married Frances Ann Coleman in July 1833.  The couple had one unmarried daughter, Mary.  Once a successful silversmith and watchmaker, he and his brother, Samuel Ward Benedict, had been partners in Benedict, Benedict & Co.  But in 1843 Jesse switched careers, opening a law firm.

The Benedicts updated the simple wooden house, adding a fashionable mansard roof with iron cresting, a two-story protruding bay to the side and Victorian embellishments to the porches.

photo by Samuel H. Gottscho, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Jesse Benedict died in 1872.  Frances almost immediately offered the house for rent.  An advertisement in The New York Herald on April 4, 1873 read "To Let--Furnished, the residence of the late Jesse W. Benedict, at Audubon Park, Washington Heights, New York city; property is on the banks of the Hudson; ample grounds, double house, stable, &c."

Frances Benedict died in 1887, and the property was sold to William Kramer in April 1888.  The land surrounding the house had shrunk to approximately 375 by 440 feet.  Kramer, who owned the Atlantic Garden and Thalia Theatre, paid $40,000 for the land, house and stable--just about $1 million today.

Kramer's occupancy was relatively short and by 1893 the house was home to lawyer Charles Francis Stone and his wife, the former Sallie English.   Stone was a member of the firm Porter, Lawrey, Soren & Stone.  By now the pristine woodlands that had lured James John Audubon were gone as houses engulfed the neighborhood and Riverside Drive cut through what had been the rear lawn.

The Stones appeared in the society columns as they entertained in the former Audubon house.  On February 17, 1892 Sallie gave a type of reception, the name for which has fallen into oblivion.  The New York Times reported "Mrs. Charles Francis Stone of Audubon Park gave a german last evening to Miss Bessie Hopkins of Maryland."

In February 1894 The Evening World reported that to observe Washington's Birthday, "a luncheon and music by the General Society of the Daughters of the Revolution [was given] at the home of Mrs. Charles Francis Stone, Audubon Park, Washington Heights."

By 1898 the Stones had moved surprisingly far south to No. 17 West 12th Street.  The Audubon house, out of fashion architecturally, was divided into two residences, upper and lower.  In 1905 Frederick La Mura, a contractor, lived upstairs and he sub-let the lower parlor floor to Philip H. Smith and his wife.

La Mura had moved from East 108th Street because of threatening letters he had received from the Black Hand Society--an Italian anarchist group that targeted Italian-American businessmen.  Now, on the night of November 12, 1905 a night watchman at a nearby construction site noticed two suspicious-acting men on the property.  Suddenly they ran down Broadway.

The New-York Tribune reported "Feeling sure that there was something wrong, Monahan made a careful investigation, and discovered flames issuing from the basement of the Audubon house at a point once occupied as a wine cellar, but now used as a sort of storeroom for paint pails and similar articles."

Monhan roused Smith and La Mura who rushed to the basement and extinguished the blaze.  The terrorists had broken a window and tossed a kerosene-soaked bundle of rages and newspaper inside.

By 1915 the house was suffering severe neglect.  A letter to the editor of The Sun on November 20 that year asked "Cannot something be done to save the picturesque home of the great American naturalist John James Audubon...Unless aid comes from the city authorities or private individuals it is obvious that Audubon's home is doomed to go."  The writer noted "The elements have got in some vital blows, and it is doubtful whether the building can hold together much longer."

Four days later another reader, Alfred Poindexter of Richmond, Virginia, chimed in.  "Let the mansion be rehabilitated in keeping with its memories, and converted into a museum of Audubon's friends, living song birds, a unique delight for visitors."

Concerned citizens still rallied for the preservation of the historic home six years later.  On May 7, 1921 a letter to the editor of The New York Herald warned that the building "where John James Audubon made his home for years and in which Morse installed and tried out his first telegraph instrument has been allowed to fall into decay and it cannot hold together much longer."

And on April 22, 1923 The New York Times joined the push for preservation.  Saying that the building could be purchased for $90,000 and "could be easily jacked up to a level with the Drive," an editorial added "Standing there, with its spacious rooms and sweeping staircases restored to their ancient dignity, it would make a splendid memorial to John James Audubon, and provide an appropriate home for the organization that bears his name."  But at present, the article lamented, "Rubbish litters the wide verandas" and "A dozen families are crowded, old-law-tenement-house fashion, in the rooms where Audubon worked."

When this photograph was taken, laundry hung from the rubbish-strewn lawn.  Apartment buildings lined Riverside Drive and railroad tracks separate the property from the river.  photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Nothing came of the proposals.  In November 1931, as developers descended on the property, DuPont Pratt donated $1,000 to move the house contingent upon $6,000 more being raised.  Money flowed in, but it was an expensive project.  On December 8 The Times reported "The expenses of moving the house to a new site have been underwritten, but a fund of $25,000 is needed to complete the work of restoration."

Wreckers began demolition in December; but were stopped at the last minute when city officials stepped in.  The Times reported "Although wreckers already had begun to tear down porches and to remove the roof and bay windows, the demolition had not proceeded far enough to interfere with restoration."

The historic home was dismantled and its sections removed to a city-owned lot awaiting the necessary fund raising to reassemble and restore it.  But during the Great Depression, when the choice of buying food or donating to historic preservation was clear, the project stalled.

As years passed, the sections were somehow misplaced.  No one knows what became of the dismantled Audubon house.  Years passed and the noble residence was forgotten.

The "Berler Houses" - Nos. 809-811 Riverside Drive

The sidewalk cascades dramatically down to West 158th Street.

In the years following the end of World War I the rowhouses of the Audubon Park neighborhood were rapidly being demolished and replaced by modern apartment buildings.  But Charles Siegel Levy and Nathan Berler had a different idea.

Levy, an attorney, and Berler, a principal in the apparel manufacturing firm of Baren, Lehman & Berler, were convinced there was a market for two-family homes in the area.  At the point where Riverside Drive and West 158th Street came together was a sharp triangular plot of land.  The two men created Bertley Holding Corporation (a not-so-subtle composite of their names) and in June 1920 purchased the wedge of real estate.

They commissioned architects Moore & Landsiedel to design an upscale home intended to be the model for a series of residences that never came to pass.  Fred W. Moore and Frank L. Landsiedel produced two handsome homes which successfully pretended to be a single Mediterranean villa.  Constructed at a cost of $70,000 (just under $1 million today) they boasted "completed electrical equipment" and garages below the homes, accessed on West 158th Street.

The houses each contained 11 rooms, including the large solaria at either end.  The Mediterranean Revival style structure, with its red brick and deep green tiled roof, was splashed with occasional Arts & Crafts touches, like the stained glass transoms in the shallow, projecting bay at the rear of No. 811.

Even in its neglected condition, the rear bay is charming.

Perhaps the reason that Bertley Holding Corporation's grand plans for similar homes never went forward was a break-up in the partnership.  The New York Times commented on the newly-completed houses in February 1922.  Charles S. Levy's name was not mentioned.  Instead, the article gave the entire credit to Nathan Berler; going so far as to say "It proved so successful that Mr. Berler now occupies the south half of the house himself and found no difficulty in selling the north half."

In fact, Berler had not sold No. 811.  His next door neighbor was his former partner, Charles S. Levy and his family.


Nathan and Sadie Berler were married on November 2, 1913 and moved into No. 809 with their three year old daughter, Lucille Marsha.  On the evening of New Year's Day, 1922 they hosted what The American Hebrew deemed "the first house warming in their newly completed residence."

Their family increased by one on August 29 that year when Marten Arnold was born.  At least one servant lived with the Berlers.

Two years after moving into No. 809 Nathan Berler (now head of the Enesbe Realty Corporation) started construction of the abutting apartment building at No. 807.  He instructed the architect, George F. Pelham, to design it to be architecturally harmonious with the two houses.

In 1930 the Berler family moved into No. 807, leasing No. 809 to Louis Robison.  In reporting on the deal, The New York Times mentioned, "The house, which was built only seven years ago, contains at $25,000 organ and a garage.  It receives heat and hot water from 807 Riverside Drive, the adjoining apartment house, also owned by Mr. Berler."

Robison was a principal in the cotton and rayon yarn trading company L. Robison Co., with partner Lawrence Lindner.  He served as treasurer of the Federation of American Zionists.   Robison and his wife were no doubt thrilled when daughter Hannah won a State scholarship to Cornell University in 1931.  The result of a competitive examination, the scholarship reduced tuition to $100 per year.

In the meantime, the Levy family was still in No. 811.  The family had three sons, Walter, Howard and Lawrence.  As Lawrence and Howard went on to Harvard, Walter was still studying at the Horace Mann School in 1927.  He was among the group of 100 boys to traveled to Denmark that year, a trip arranged by the Rotary Club and the American Club of Copenhagen.

But the Levy family would also endure tragedy in 1927.  On February 11 Charles was driving along East 152nd Street at the same time that 4-year old Jeremiah Mulcahy was playing in front of his home.  The automobile struck the boy, who died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.  The following day The Times reported "Levy was also directed to appear at the Bronx Homicide Court this morning."

The Levy family remained in No. 811 at least through 1937.  In 1942 the house was sold to Dr. Luigi Capobianco.  It was assessed at the time at $22,000.  Capobianco moved his family into the house.  Although the Capobianco family was still in the house as late as 1952, it was converted to apartments, one per floor, around mid-century.

No. 809, meanwhile, had seen a series of tenants.  Following the Robison family came Louis Berkowitz in 1934, Aurelia Smart in 1939, and when her five-year lease expired the house was purchased by Adele R. Harlowe.  Adele leased rooms, apparently, and in 1947 one of her tenants was biologist Jewel Plummer Cobb.  Recognized today as an African American pioneer in medicine, her research on cancer cells led to major advances in chemotherapy.

Original details survive throughout No. 809.  photo via Corcoran Group

When No. 809 was listed in 2010, it's 1921 interiors were amazingly intact.  The new owners initiated a restoration that included replacement windows, most of which were faithful copies of the originals.  The sympathetic facelift accentuated the fact--for perhaps the first time in nearly a century--that the villa is actually two homes.

The laudable restoration stopped short of reproducing the diamond-paned foyer windows or its quarter-round transom. 

photographs by the author

The Cornelia Dike House - 648 West 158th Street

A Google Street View in 2016 shows the house in a sorry state of repair.

In the 18th century the land far north of the city--areas which would later earn the names Washington Heights, Harlem and Harlem Heights, for instance--was dotted with farms and the country estates of the wealthy, like the elegant Georgian mansion of Roger Morris (known today as the Morris-Jumel Mansion).

The area's refreshing breezes and hilly geography continued to lure wealthy residents for decades following the Revolution.  In 1841 renowned naturalist and illustrator James John Audubon purchased 20 acres of the former estate of British Colonel John Maunsell, which had been enlarged by his nephew John Watkins.  Audubon erected a home here where he lived with his family until his death in January 1851.

Audubon's widow, Lucy, left the estate in 1854 and rented the house.  When she died in 1874 at the age of 86 the area was still sparsely developed.  But that began to change as improvements in public transportation inched northward.  By the mid 1880s rowhouses appeared around what was now known as Audubon Park and within a decade development was in full swing.

In 1896 architect John P. Leo got in on the trend, buying eight plots along West 158th Street from another architect, August W. Cordes.  Acting as his own developer, Leo designed the houses in a nearly-balanced A-B-B-A-A-B-B-C plan.  Why No. 648 stood starkly apart from the otherwise symmetrical row is puzzling.

Two years later Leo added to the string when merchant John Lilliendahl hired him to design Nos. 626 through 632.  Once again Leo created matching pairs, although they had little in common with his earlier row.

The houses were intended for well-to-do families and, in fact, August Cordes purchased No. 634.  The family of Walter Stabler, controller of the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company, moved into No. 648--the end house that refused to conform.

Because a narrow drive abutted the property, it was the most desirable home on the row, with sunlight on three sides.  Leo took advantage of the exposed side elevation by adding two handsome projecting bays.  The brown brick facade was ornamented with Georgian style elements: an elaborate triangular pediment over the entrance, supported by fluted, engaged Corinthian columns; openings at the second story grouped in a Palladium-like arrangement and surmounted by an elegant swan-necked pediment, and double keystones in the stone lintels of the third floor.  Unusual brick quoins ran up the sides.  Neo-classical garlands pressed into the cornice frieze mimicked those above the second floor windows.

Delicate 18th century-inspired details survive despite the structure's horrific abuse.

Walter Stabler and his wife, Clara, had three children.  Clara seems to have had a small fortune of her own and was listed as a major stockholder of the Metropolitan Bank.   Living with them in the house was a nurse and a cook.

Well-respected in the insurance and real estate industries, The National Civic Review said of him, "In his position in the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company, Mr. Stabler is one of the largest and most scientific lenders of mortgage money in the world and possesses an extraordinarily broad knowledge of real estate conditions."

In the meantime, Cornelia A. Dike was also involved, to a degree, in real estate.  Although she had graduated from Vassar in 1879 and pursued a career in education, she was a director in the real estate firm of Oscar D. and Herbert V. Dike.  Neither she nor her sister, Alice had married and they shared in the estate of their father, Henry A. Dike.

Born in 1825 in Providence, Dike became involved in the wool business in New York City with Joseph Ripley.  He and his brothers, James P. and Camden C., subsequently formed the firm of Dike Brothers, woolen merchants.  At the time of his death on July 20, 1887 he had established a sizeable fortune, was a member of the Chamber of Commerce and a Director of the Chatham National Bank.

Alice lived on Washington Square; but Cornelia, known familiarly as Nina, was a bit more parsimonious.  By 1921 she was living in No. 648 West 158th Street and renting rooms.  On February 27 that year she advertised "Well furnished, large room, suitable for business lady; $50 monthly."

The rent, equal to more than $650 a month today, reflected the still-upscale tenor of the neighborhood.  And despite the fact that groups of houses all around were rapidly being demolished for modern apartment buildings, the row that included Cornelia's home remained intact.

When Alice did in 1930 she left an estate of over $100,000, just under $1.5 million today.  She either felt Cornelia had enough money or the two were not getting along well; for her will divided the estate equally between the League of Nations Non-Partisan Association and Smith College.  Cornelia received $1,000 and "personal effects."

Cornelia had six boarders living with her at the time.  She nevertheless continued her position as socialite and hostess.  On May 16, 1934 she opened her gardens to the Vassar Club's city garden tour.  The other two gardens visited that day were those of the wealthy Mrs. Walter Ewing Hope and Mrs. Richard Billings.

On September 5, 1943 the garden was the scene of a tea in honor of poet Mark Van Doren, who read from his writings.  In reporting on the event, The New York Times noted "Miss Dike's garden has been combined with those of several neighbors along 158th Street to provide the last reminder of Audubon Park, where until a few years ago stood the home of John James Audubon."

The article mentioned another former estate, now gone.  "The party took place a few yards from the site of the house where Lady Randolph Churchill, American-born mother of Prime Minster Winston Churchill, lived for a while as a child, Jennie Jerome."

Little notice was paid when Cornelia A. Dike died in the house on January 25, 1947.  A one-line obituary merely informed readers that the funeral would be held there two days later.

Cornelia's death foreshadowed a major change to the once-elegant home.  Later that year Daisy Saunders paid $12,000 cash for the property and in 1955 it was converted to furnished rooms with a "community kitchen" on the top floor.

In January 2017 the house is gutted and renovations begun.  The tiny street at the side was possibly the carriage drive of the former Wheelock estate.

The remainder of the 20th century was not kind, and by around 2000 the house sat vacant.  Squatters and vandals broke in and twice fire damaged the home.  In 2009 the Landmarks Preservation Commission laid out the boundaries for the Audubon Park Historic District, which astoundingly stopped just feet short of including the surviving row that included No. 648 West 158th Street.

That same year the house was put on the market for $895,000.  With no takers, the price was lowered to $759,000 in 2010.  Eventually Cornelia Dike's house, where society teas were served in the garden, was purchased and in 2016 plans were filed to convert it to a two-family residence.

Despite their obvious abuse, the survival of the homes along the row is astonishing.

Despite the puzzling snub by the LPC, John P. Leo's row survives as a reminder when private homes sprung up around Audubon Park.  In January 2017 No. 648 is gutted and, without landmark designation, the owners are not obligated to preserve its architectural integrity.

UPDATE:

The renovations were completed in 2019, resulting in a total of 10 apartments.  The owners greatly restored the facade to its historic appearance.

photograph by Alan Zamchick

photographs by the author
many thanks to reader Steve Smith for requesting this post