The 1903 Hotel Darlington - 402 Eighth Avenue

 

photograph by Anthony Bellov

In 1902, the northern edge of Manhattan's Chelsea district was just seeing the influx of industry.  That year, still eight years before the opening of the magnificent Pennsylvania Station one block to the north, Isidor H. Kempner broke ground for a hotel and saloon at the northeast corner of Eighth Avenue and 30th Street.  Designed by the well-known architectural firm of Buchman & Fox, it cost Kempner $25,000 to erect, or about $940,000 in 2026 terms.  

The architects drew inspiration from Colonial prototypes.  Faced in red brick above the ground floor, the Hotel Darlington was three stories tall and stretched 64 feet down West 30th Street.  Its turret-like upper corner was likely capped with a shallow, conical "witch's hat" roof.  The second floor openings wore Georgian-inspired splayed lintels with layered keystones, while the treatment of the top floor windows was slightly less exuberant.  

In the rear of the saloon, which was initially run by Howard Babcock, was a large meeting space, Gallagher's Hall.  It was rented to various social, political and labor groups.  The space had a separate entrance on the side street.

From the beginning, the Hotel Darlington got an unsavory reputation.  Shortly after midnight on September 11, 1904, William F. McLean, an unmarried bookkeeper, checked in with a woman named Dora Callahan.  Within a few hours, McLean was dead.

The New York Herald said flatly that McLean "is said to have been a drug fiend."  According to Dora, who was held as a "suspicious person," a little while after entering the room, "McLean took two hypodermic injections of some drug."  The New York Herald reported, "When she awoke at 4 o'clock in the morning she could not arouse her companion and a physician was called in.  McLean was dead."  The following day, The Evening World reported that the 22-year-old Dora Callahan had been released.  "The evidence failed to show her in any way responsible for the man's death," said the article.

On July 26, 1905, the Excise Board revoked Howard Babcock's liquor license "under the provisions of the Ambler Law," according to The Evening Post.  (The Ambler Law restricted the sale of liquor on Sunday.)  The revocation was short-lived, apparently, and before long Gallagher's Hall was again routinely booked.

In its June 19, 1909 issue, for example, The Moving Picture World reported, "The regular meeting of the Picture Machine Branch Local 15, I. A. T. S. E., was held at Gallagher's Hall, 402 Eighth avenue, to an overflowing attendance."  The union rented the room each Monday night.  

And on February 11, 1911, the Irish American Advocate reported on the "third annual social and dance" of the Ancient Order of Hibernians the previous week.  "The affair was one continual round of pleasure from 8 p.m. to 4 a.m.," said the article.

Meanwhile, residents upstairs continued to draw unwanted publicity.  On May 16, 1911, The New York Times reported that the Secret Service had broken a counterfeiting ring that "had for its object the flooding of Alaska with counterfeit money."  The Federal agents had seized a printing plant in Hoboken where the fake bills were being made.  The newspaper said, "The plot started six weeks ago, when some of those under arrest lived at 402 Eighth Avenue."

Despite the often nefarious goings on upstairs, the meetings in the rear of the saloon were respectable--at least for the time being.  On July 10, 1913, Building and Engineering News reported that the "Park-Presidio District Senator Scott Club" was formed here; and four months later, on November 7, The Evening Telegram reported, "Seven hundred and fifty members of the [Chauffeurs and Taxicab Drivers Local No. 267] attended a meeting held in Gallagher's Hall, No. 402 Eighth avenue."  Taxicab drivers had been on strike and the meeting was held to consider the owners' offer.

Renting a room here beginning in 1925 was Russian-born Sam Hysso.  The 32-year-old came to New York City to study art at the National Academy of Design.  Unfortunately, things were not working out for him.  Three years later, The New York Times said he still "spoke English badly," adding, "It was said at the school that he seemed to be unhappy."  

Provincetown, Massachusetts was a summer art colony at the time.  In the summer of 1928, Hysso traveled there, but his solitude and unhappiness continued.  The New York Times said his only confidant there was "a small boy."  Hysso, said the article, was known as the "loneliest artist in Provincetown."  That boy told the town's police chief that Hysso complained that he was "tired out and sick of life."  As a storm was brewing on the afternoon of August 5, the artist told someone he was going out to "study the cloud effects."  He wandered out into the sand dunes and was never seen again.

Towering business buildings provided the ground floor business a constant supply of patrons. via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In 1933, with Prohibition in effect, Michael F. O'Day signed a lease on the former saloon and meeting hall.  He installed an eatery, O'Day's Restaurant, in the front and a dining room in the rear.  By then, the neighborhood had filled with factory and office buildings, resulting in a brisk business.  In 1953, O'Day testified that he served 300 persons each day.  

That year, while O'Day was ostensibly at home and sick, five of his seven employees were arrested for running a gambling joint in the dining room area.  Under questioning, O'Day insisted he was ignorant of the operation.  "Well, it is a cinch I wouldn't sacrifice my livelihood, a good business," by allowing illegal activities, he insisted.

photograph by Anthony Bellov

The building was sold in 1952 and 12 years later a renovation resulted in an "eating and drinking" establishment on the ground floor and four apartments each in the second and third.  At some point the brick facade was painted mint green and the brownstone trim a rosy-pink.  Forty-six years after it opened here in 1980, the Molly Wee Pub and Restaurant continues to serve the busy Penn Station community.

many thanks to historian Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post.

The Transformed 1847 684 Sixth Avenue

 

In the mid-1840s, as sumptuous Greek Revival and Italianate-style mansions crept up Fifth Avenue, a block to the west much humbler residences were being erected.  In 1847, a three-story house at 350 Sixth Avenue (renumbered 684 in 1925) was completed.  Although they were separated by just a block, the proletarian inhabitants of the house--like the building itself--were a world away from Fifth Avenue's high society.

It seems that the house always had a store at street level.  The working-class residents in 1850 were almost all in the construction business.  They included Michael Dowling, a mason; carpenter William Custis; and John Alexander, a plasterer.  The one tenant not involved in building was Philip Kenney, a bootmaker.  It is possible he also occupied the store.

Around 1853, 33-year-old Michael Ronan installed his tailor shop in the store and lived with his family upstairs.   They shared the space that year with Denis Broderick, a stonecutter.

In February 1861, the Ronans welcomed a baby boy, Augustus M.  Sadly, the toddler died on July 24, 1863.  His funeral was held in the second floor of 350 Sixth Avenue the next day.

The couple shared the upper floors with George and Mary Le Caitel and John McCreery in 1867.  Le Caitel was a hairdresser and McCreery was in the shoe business.  The following year, Michael Rowan (whose name was confusingly similar to Michael Ronan) and Richard New opened their M. Rowan & Co. "ice cream depot" (i.e., ice cream parlor) in the store space.  It is unclear to where Michael Ronan temporarily moved his tailoring shop.

The ice cream parlor moved a block south to 334 Sixth Avenue the following year, and Ronan regained his shop.  Before long, Michael Ronan's health began to decline.  By the spring of 1872, he was no longer able to operate his business.  On April 19, an auction was held of: 

...the selected Stock of the long established Tailor Store 350 Sixth avenue, between Twenty-first and Twenty-second streets: Cloths, Cassimeres, Vestings, &c.; also custom made Pants, Coats and Vests, together with Counters, Fixtures and large size Singer Sewing Machine.  The attention of the trade invited.

Michael Ronan died on August 16, 1872 at the age of 50, "after a long illness," according to the New York Herald.  Unlike his son's funeral, Michael's was held in St. Francis Xavier's Church the following day.

Ronan may have held out hope that he would recover.  Not everything had been sold at the auction.  On September 8, an advertisement in the New York Herald offered, "For Sale, Cheap--A lot of new French Cloths and a Singer's Sewing Machine; almost new.  Apply at hall door 350 Sixth avenue, New York."

Mary and George Le Caitel still lived here.  George died "after a long and painful illness," as reported by the New York Herald, on December 17, 1873.  He was 42 years old.

Stephen E. England installed his "variety store" in the shop in 1875.  Among those living upstairs were Mary Maccarran, who made caps; William Powell, a stove dealer; Jacob W. Aeppli, whose barber shop was on Fourth Avenue; and tailor Christopher Postera.  (Mary Maccarran and William Powell would remain at least through 1880.)

Sisters Elizabeth M. Ritter and Agnes J. Ritter each owned 50 percent of the property in 1888.  When Agnes married Edward T. McCoy, she divided her portion with her new husband.

A Mrs. Bacon ran a domestic employment agency here in the early 1890s.  She and other agencies faced a crisis when the Chicago World's Columbian Exposition opened in 1893.  On April 29, The Evening World began an article saying, "Housekeepers and the proprietors of New York employment agencies are becoming not a little alarmed at the unusual scarcity of servant girls just now prevalent in the metropolis."  In anticipation of the throngs of visitors to the fair, Chicago hotel managers were depleting Manhattan's workforce with seductive offers.  The article said, "Mrs. Bacon, of 350 Sixth avenue, has many applications for Chicago situations, but has sent no servants there and invariably discouraged such applicants."

Robert T. Dowling occupied the store by 1899.  The following year, architect David P. Miller remodeled the storefront.  On February 4, 1902, Edward T. McCoy and Elizabeth M. Ritter renewed Dowling's lease for 10 years at $6,000.  (The rent would translate to about $1,675 per month in 2025.)

Dowling's residency would not last through the term of the lease.  In 1905, the architectural firm of Buchman & Fox was hired to convert the building to commercial use and remodel the facade.  Any trace of the 1847 house was eliminated in the architects' vaguely commercial take on neo-Classical architecture.  

Above the cast iron storefront, two-story paneled brick piers flanked the metal infill.  Double-height fluted Ionic pilasters created three bays, the floors separated by paneled spandrels.  Vast show windows flooded the interior with natural light.  A molded cornice and low parapet finished the design.

via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The new tenants were Daniel J. Healy, maker of skirts and patterns; the Singer Sewing Machine Company; and a branch of J. Ehrlich & Sons.  

A 1905 advertisement announced the store's opening.  The World, June 12, 1905 (copyright expired)

J. Ehrlich & Sons' optical business was founded in 1862.  The firm operated its own glasses factory.  In the summer of 1908, an advertisement cautioned New Yorkers, "Don't risk your vacation pleasure without extra glasses."  The ad promised, "Bring your glasses to us NOW.  We can duplicate them EXACTLY without the original prescription and at a very moderate cost."

J. Ehrlich & Sons remained here until 1912, when McCoy and Ritter made interior renovations.  Architects Schwartz & Gross designed the reconfiguration of walls.  At the same time, toilets were installed.  In 1914, S. Miller & Sons, a women's apparel store, moved into the ground floor shop.

In the 1940s, L. Radin's occupied the space, offering female shoppers "corsets, brassieres, and blouses."

Today there are apartments on the third floor of the venerable building.  Buchman & Fox's 1905 storefront was obliterated in the second half of the 20th century, but, overall, the building's appearance has not changed.

photographs by the author

The 1902 Marbury Hall - 164-166 West 74th Street

 

image vi cityrealty.com

In 1896 the Board of Estimate and Apportionment approved $30,000 "for a site at Nos. 164 and 166 West Seventy-fourth street...intended for the quarters of a new hook and ladder company."  But before the project went forward, a substitute site was selected on West 77th Street.  The change in plans created a prodigious opportunity for real estate developer Louis P. Sefton.

He purchased the two three-story buildings on the lots in 1901 and hired the architectural firm of Buchman & Fox to design an upscale residential hotel.  Completed the following year at a cost of $150,000 (nearly $5 million today), the seven-story Marbury Hall was a restrained example of the Beaux Arts style.  An impressive portico, upheld by polished stone columns, sheltered the entrance.  It was crowned by a stately broken pediment.  The openings of the lower five stories were treated differently floor-by-floor, while those of the sixth floor were flanked by the massive full-height brackets that upheld the stone balcony of the seventh.

photo by Wurts Bros., from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Residence hotels like Marbury Hall offered the amenities of hotels--like maid service--but with long-term leases like apartment buildings.  The suites did not have kitchens, but instead the residents either ate in the upscale restaurant-like dining room, or ordered their meals delivered from the main kitchen.

The suites in Marbury Hall ranged from one to three bedrooms.  An advertisement in the New-York Tribune on September 21, 1902 called it "an exclusive residence hotel for small families and bachelors."  The ad touted uniformed Japanese attendants, valet service, and "domestic cuisine, with superior service."  Rents ranged from $540 to $1,700, or about $4,650 per month for the most expensive.

The New York Herald called it "A house with the atmosphere of a rich man's country house," adding, "Marbury Hall is the most sumptuously appointed establishment in this city.  The decorative effects and furnishings are in exquisite taste.  Its many distinguishing features have attracted unusual attention."  

On October 10, 1902, the New-York Tribune wrote:

This house has attracted unusual attention on account of its many distinguishing features as a place of permanent residence for an exclusive class of people...Its particular attraction seems to be its homelike atmosphere.  The furnishings are of a sumptuous character, but withal in good taste.  The house is managed by a young woman, and it is due to her artistic taste and womanly instincts that Marbury Hall is already an established success.

That manager was Catherine E. Sefton.  Louis P. Sefton and his wife were among the initial residents of his building.  Their tenants, expectedly, were professionals.  Among them was educator John Green Wight, a Civil War veteran and president of the Schoolmasters' Association of New York.  

Other initial residents were Dr. Carleton Lewis Brownson and his wife, the former Caroline Louise Barstow.  The Yale-educated Brownson was Dean of Faculty at the College of the City of New York.  Like Wight, he had served in the Civil War.

Carleton Lewis Brownson, Quarter-Century Record of the Class of Eighteen-Eighty-Seven, Yale College, 1915.

In 1909 Catherine Sefton hired Louise B. Decker as the bookkeeper.  Her salary was $35 a month plus board.  Six years later, in the spring of 1915, Louise's pay was raised to $60 a month.

Early that year Catherine Sefton became ill and went away "for a rest," in her words.  She later said, "When I returned, Mrs. Decker gave me a statement of the hotel's finances, and I saw from it that business seemed to have gone all to smash.  When I asked Mrs. Decker about it she replied that business had been bad everywhere."  Suspicious, Catherine told Louise Decker to take a two months' vacation.  She arranged a trip to Block Island, Narragansett Pier and Newport.  Catherine told a reporter from The Evening World, "No sooner had she gone than I called in a public accountant and placed the books in his hands.  In less than ten minutes he told me that I had been robbed."

On October 30, 1915, The New York Press headlined an article, "Tango Crazed Woman Seized As A Thief," and reported, "Accused of stealing to satisfy her longing for the tango parlors of Broadway, Mrs. Louise B. Decker, head bookkeeper of Marbury Hall...was arrested late yesterday afternoon by Detective Boyle."  The arrest did not go as expected.  "As the detective told her she was under arrest, Mrs. Decker raised her hand to her mouth and swallowed a quantity of nitrate of silver."  She was taken to the Polyclinic Hospital where the poisoning was caught in time.

Over a period of years Louise Decker had absconded with $10,000 of the hotel's money--more than a quarter of a million in today's dollars.  How she supported her lifestyle suddenly became clear to Catherine Sefton.  She told the New York Press,

Mrs. Decker has given dinner parties in Broadway's most expensive tango places.  She gave box parties at all the theatres.  She was well known at all the dance places, and I have heard that she has paid a professional dancer $10 to take her around to the tango parlors, and she paid the expenses of the evening.  She was always the best dressed woman about the hotel, and when I asked her about it, she said she had wealthy relatives who gave her a generous allowance.

From her hospital bed, Louise Decker did not seem especially repenting.  The New York Times wrote, "'I want to die, I want to die,' she murmured to Detective Boyle.  'I've been good to a lot of people.  Now they have gone back on me.  They are a lot of pikers, that's what they are.'"

Catherine E. Sefton sold Marbury Hall to Edward Arlington in January 1921.  The Brownsons were still living here at the time.  That year Carleton Brownson philosophized on the state of democracy in the Thirty-Fifth Year Record, Class of 1887, Yale College, saying in part:

We have found out that after all there is no magic in democracy unless the raw material of your democracy is exceedingly good.  And there is no short-and-easy method of making it so.  Consequently there is danger that the thing won't be done...All the same, I rather think that in the long run the world is still going to be ruled by the intelligent, however much they may be outnumbered.

Also living here at the time was the famous Rev. Dr. Charles Henry Parkhurst and his wife, Ellen Bodman.  The former rector of the Madison Square Presbyterian Church, he had been president of the New York Society for the Prevention of Crime.  He was noted for going into the streets at night in disguise and frequenting barrooms, gambling houses and brothels, presumably to collect evidence.  He had famously waged war against Tammany Hall from the pulpit, and denounced women's suffrage as "self exploitation indulged in by short-haired women and encouraged by long-haired men."

Rev. Dr. Charles Henry Parkhurst.

Ellen Bodman Parkhurst died on May 26, 1921.  Four years later Rev. Parkhurst retired to Lake Placid.  He explained to a reporter from his apartment on April 22, 1925, "New York isn't what is used to be.  Not that the people aren't just as good.  It's the noise, dirt, automobile smoke and crowds."  Nevertheless, Parkhurst retained his Marbury Hall apartment.  The Sun noted, "He has not given up his legal residence in New York, however, and will return to the city from time to time."

The crime-0bssessed Parkhurst would have been outraged over two new residents in 1929.  Real estate operator Alfred Cohen and his wife Gladys were married in June and moved into Marbury Hall.  One month later, on July 25, detectives who were acting on a tip, searched their apartment.  The New York Times reported, "An opium smoking layout and a half pound of alleged opium were found in their apartment."

Cohen had been arrested on a charge of possession of narcotics on February 25, 1928.  Now he and Gladys "disclaimed all knowledge of the layout and alleged opium," said The New York Times.  The article added, "Mrs. Cohen wept continually."  Both were arrested and charged with possession of narcotics.

Once touted as "the most sumptuously appointed establishment in this city," in 1945 Marbury Hall was converted to house "residents for missionaries of a religious organization," as documented by the Department of Buildings.  The ground floor now held the lounge, reception room, library and dining room; and upstairs were 18 "study and bedrooms" per floor.

In 1972 the building became home to the Phoenix House Foundation.  The non-profit is today among the country's preeminent substance abuse prevention and treatment service organizations.  It operated from the building for nearly 45 years, selling it for $26.8 million in February 2016 to Greystone Development and Prime Rok Real Estate.

A gut renovation by Barry Rice Architects completed in 2020 resulted in two apartments per floor.  Because the building, now known as The Marbury, sits within a historic district, the exterior retains its 1902 appearance.

many thanks to reader Matthew Hall for prompting this post

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The Charles L. Bernheimer Residence - 18 East 64th Street

 

In 1878 architects David and John Jardine designed a row of brownstone-faced residences for developer Edward Kilpatrick on the southern side of East 64th Street between Fifth and Madison Avenues.  The neo-Grec style homes rose four stories above English basements.  No. 18 was purchased by W. W. Johnson, possibly before ground was even broken.

The 25-foot wide house was completed in 1879.  Johnson retained possession only five years, selling it in January 1884 to Charles Minzesheimer for $61,500--around $1.65 million today.

A provisions merchant, he and his wife, the former Clara Hertz, had three sons, Charles, Jr., David and Clarence.  David died three years after the family moved into the 64th Street house.

In 1892 the Minzesheimers started interior renovations to their home.  Things ground to a halt, however, in June when the city's unionized cabinet-makers became embroiled in labor disputes.   The Board of Walking Delegates ordered strikes at three locations throughout the city, including the Minzesheimer house.

King's Views of the New York Stock Exchange, 1898 (copyright expired)

In January 1897 Minzesheimer partnered with his son Clarence and two others to form Charles Minzesheimer & Company, a commission firm dealing in cotton, coffee, grain and provisions.  Charles, Jr., went on a different career path, going into banking.

The family remained in the house until early 1911.  In March Clarke's Art Rooms advertised for sale the "valuable modern paintings, the collection of Charles Minzesheimer, Esq."

The purchaser of the now architecturally outdated house was Charles Leopold Bernheimer and his wife, Clara L.  The Bernheimers hired the architectural firm of Buchman & Fox to completely renovate the residence.  The stoop was removed and the front pulled slightly forward.  As construction got underway, a frightening accident occurred on June 25, 1911.   

Explaining that "the house is being remodeled during the absence of the family," The Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported that the scaffolding in the rear of the house had collapsed, injuring two men, one seriously.  A worker, known only as John, was on the top of the scaffolding when it gave way "with a crash that could be heard for several blocks." 

A worker on the ground was hit with several pieces of iron, but not seriously injured.  John, however, "was buried and crushed beneath the mass of metal."  Workmen extricated the unconscious man from the twisted iron and he was transferred to the Presbyterian Hospital with a fractured skull and internal injuries.

Completed in 1912, the remodeled house now wore a chaste limestone neo-French Classic facade.  Oddly enough, the lower floor configuration was not changed, resulting in a step-down to the entrance (at what was formerly the English basement level).

The rusticated second floor, or piano nobile, featured French windows fronted by stone balustrades.  Carved roses spilled from the scrolled keystones above the three sets of arched French windows, fronted by cast iron balconettes, on the floor above.  Smaller versions of the keystones graced the lintels of the upper floors.

Bernheimer was born in 1864 in Germany and arrived in the United States in 1881.  The couple had two daughters, Helen Amalie and Alice Martha.  Living with the family were six live-in maids.  

Charles Leopold Bernheimer (original source unknown)

Although he made his fortune in the textile business, Bernheimer had two passions which could not have been more different.  A pioneer in the movement to develop a single procedure to arbitrate industrial disputes, he spent much of his time promoting its advantages.  He was equally--or more--interested in archeology and geology and spent every summer in the Far West.

Bernheimer styled himself the "tenderfoot cliff dweller from Manhattan."  While his wife and daughters summered in comfortable resorts, he annually traveled to the deserts of New Mexico, Utah and Arizona to explore cliff ruins and hunt for dinosaur bones.  The relics he collected are housed in the American Museum of Natural History, the Smithsonian Institution, and the Carnegie Institute.

Clara Bernheimer in her younger years.  A natural stone arch in Arizona is named for her.  from the collection of the Library of Congress

On the afternoon of June 11, 1922 Clara ventured out into what the Yonkers Statesman's headline called the "Worst Storm In Years."  She would have been well to stay home, for she narrowly escaped serious injury.  The newspaper reported that the Bernheimer's Packard touring car was on North Broadway at around 5:15 when the roof of the First Presbyterian Church was blown off.  It "closed down upon the occupants of the car, Mrs. Bernheimer and the chauffeur, Frank Akison, and police assistance was necessary in freeing them."  Although the chauffeur suffered cuts on his hands, Clara escaped uninjured.

The Bernheimers left the East 64th Street by the early 1930's.  It was briefly operated as uncertified apartments until officially being converted to furnished rooms in 1938.  Another renovation completed in 1943 resulted in a combination of five apartments and fifteen furnished rooms.  That configuration lasted until 1963 when the house was converted to all apartments.   Asian art gallery Dai Ichi Arts operates from the ground floor today.

photographs by the author

The Henry Morgenthau House - 30 West 72nd Street

Born in Mannheim, Germany in 1856, Henry Morgenthau came to American as a boy with his large family (he was one of 11 children) in 1866.  Although educated as a lawyer, Henry’s fortune came mostly through real estate.  In 1882 he married Josephine Sykes.  The couple had four children, Helen, Alma, Henry Jr. and Ruch.

At the turn of the century the neighborhood of West 72nd Street and Central Park West was elegant and refined.   In August 1904 Morgenthau purchased the vintage, four-story brownstone at 30 West 72nd Street, demolished it, and then hired the architectural firm of Buchman & Fox to design a high-end residence on the site.  The old house had cost $80,000, and construction costs of the new structure were $70,000, bringing the total outlay to about $4.65 million in today’s dollars.

Completed the following year, the stone-clad residence was a reserved take on the French-inspired Beaux Arts style.  A dog-legged stoop rose to the rusticated parlor level.  The three upper levels, which sat upon a prominent bracketed cornice, featured an angled bay at the second floor with an elaborately carved arched pediment.  A stone balustrade created a balcony at the third floor.

Henry Jr. was 14-years old when the family moved in.  The privileged boy got into trouble almost immediately.  At a time when only wealthy families could afford motorcars and when there were no legal age restrictions (or even drivers’ licenses), the teen was arrested for going above the 8-mile per hour speed limit on April 9, 1905.  The New-York Tribune reported “Morgenthau is a student at Phillips-Exeter.”  (The exclusive, private academy in New Hampshire was among the most prestigious in the country.)

Henry Morgenthau, Sr. from the collection of the Library of Congress

The Morgenthau house was the scene of Helen’s wedding to Mortimer Fox for on April 7, 1906.  The New-York Tribune reported “The ceremony was performed in the red and gold drawing room, which was elaborately decorated with cut flowers.”  

Three years later Alma was married in the mansion.  Her wedding to Maurice Wertheim took place on April 15, 1909.  It was a joining of two prominent Jewish families, Wertheim’s millionaire father being the head of the massive United Cigar Manufacturers Company.

Henry Wertheim rose from prominence within the New York City legal and real estate communities to international renown following his appointment by President Woodrow Wilson as American ambassador to the Ottoman Empire in December 1913.  An ardent Wilson supporter, Morgenthau had expected to be given a Cabinet post; and initially turned down the ambassadorship.   Interestingly, it was his daughter, Helen Fox, who initially accompanied her father and “opened the embassy for him,” according to The Evening World.  “Mrs. Morgenthau followed later.”  

Morgenthau’s post came at an alarming time—just seven months after settling in, World War I broke out and simultaneously the Ottoman government began what would be known as the Armenian Genocide.  Morgenthau spoke out against the atrocities, reprimanding the Ottoman Interior Minister, “Our people will never forget these massacres.”

  
Josephine remained in Turkey until October 1915 when she returned to the 72nd Street house.  The move may have been in anticipation of her husband’s coming resignation.  Exasperated with the Ottoman Government, he stepped down in 1916.  A crowd of reporters was waiting at the dock when he stepped off the Frederick VIII on February 21, 1916.  Deflecting questions which pertained to international relations, he headed home.  The Evening World reported “He will lock himself up with his family at their home, No. 30 West Seventy-second Street, for the rest of the day…and then he will leave for the National Capital on the midnight train.”

In April 1915, while his parents were overseas, Henry Jr. had married Elinor Lehman Fatman, granddaughter of Mayer Lehman, a co-founder of the brokerage firm Lehman Brothers.  The couple settled on an estate in Dutchess County where Morgenthau raised Christmas trees.  They became fast friends with their near neighbors, Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt—a relationship which would be significant later.

In the meantime, the Morgenthau house held another major event on April 14, 1917.  The New York Herald reported “More than three hundred guests attended the reception given by Mr. Henry Morgenthau, formerly ambassador to Turkey, and Mrs. Morgenthau…for their daughter, Miss Ruth Morgenthau, whose engagement to Mr. George W. Naumburg has been announced.”  As had been the case with her sisters, her wedding on April 30, 1917 took place in the 72nd Street house.”

Although now empty-nesters, Josephine and Henry did not slow down.  In 1920 he was briefly appointed to the post of Ambassador to Mexico.  But on March 27 The Sun reported “President Carranza will ask the United States to reconsider Mr. Morgenthau’s appointment.”  The government had discovered “that he is connected with the Association for the Protection of American Rights in Mexico.”  

By now West 72nd Street had noticeably changed from a refined residential street to one of traffic and commerce.  On the agenda of a meeting of the city’s Committee of Franchises on October 31, 1921 was a “communication from Hon. Henry Morgenthau stating that the vibration in his house at No. 30 West 72d street has again become very noticeable due to the operation of omnibuses on that street.”

One of the last entertainments by the Morgenthau’s here was on January 13, 1922 when “men and women who are interested in the Woodrow Wilson Foundation” met.  The goal of the new organization was to provide endowments “for distinguished public service.”

Henry Morgenthau, Jr. would become perhaps more prominent that his father.  He became Secretary of the Treasury under Franklin D. Roosevelt and helped design the New Deal.  He was the author of the 1944 Morgenthau Plan regarding the rebuilding of European economy following World War II.  His son, Robert M. Morgenthau, would be District Attorney of Manhattan for more than three decades.  Alma’s daughter, Barbara Wertheim, became an author and historian, winning the Pulitzer Prize in 1962 for The Guns of August.

On September 13, 1923 The New York Times reported that the Morgenthaus had moved to an apartment on Park Avenue and sold 30 West 72nd Street to William Henri Zay “who will remove his musical studio…to the former Morgenthau residence.”   Zay had paid the equivalent of $1.27 million today for the property.  The article recalled “it was the scene of many brilliant gatherings.”

Zay and his wife, the former Gilison Eileen Horner (who went by her middle name) had a daughter, Eileen in 1926.   Zay was a well-known voice coach and the author of The Practical Psychology of Voice.   Among his successful students was Rumanian-born soprano Beatrice Kottlar.

William Henri Zay - The New York Times, September 13, 1923 (copyright expired)

The Zays were still here in 1925 when the Anthroposophical Society established its headquarters in the house.  The group held lectures here, like the one by Henry B. Monges on March 29, 1925 on “The Bhagavad-Gita and the Cult Science of Rudolf Steiner.”  It operated the Anthroposphic Press here as well, which published Anthroposophy: A Quarterly Review of Spiritual Science.

The stoop was still intact when this photo was shot around 1941.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

In 1950 the former Morgenthau residence was converted to apartments, two per floor.  The stoop was removed and the entrance lowered to the former basement level.  Not all the tenants in the much-changed neighborhood were entirely respectable.  On April 4, 1964, for instance, The New York Times reported that one of the apartments was one link of an “elaborate electronic communications setup” of a major bookmaking and numbers operation.

Although it has lost its stoop, the Morgenthau mansion is the last surviving relic of a period when this block was lined with similar upscale residences of some of the Upper West Side's wealthiest families.

photographs by the author

The Lyman G. Bloomingdale House - 21 East 63rd Street

photo by Matthew X. Kiernan

Around 1884 the high-stoop brownstone house of Jacob Ferry at No. 21 East 63rd Street was completed.  Ferry could count among his near neighbors some of the wealthiest and influential names in New York, including Ogden Mills, James Sinclair, Richard M. Hoe, Jr., John Sloane, and George L. Ingraham.  

In 1864 when the Central Park Menagerie was begun its site was inoffensively north of polite residences.  But now its presence was an issue to the moneyed homeowners.  The year after he moved into his new house Ferry added his name to a long list of millionaires who sent a petition to the Board of Estimate protesting "the continuance" of the menagerie in the Park.  Their argument claimed in part that the zoo "tends to pollute the soil, thus rendering it offensive and unwholesome to the neighborhood," and "the noise and confusion...tends materially to disturb the peace and comfort of whose who reside in its immediate vicinity."

This time money and power did not prevail and the Central Park Menagerie remained.

In 1888 No. 21 East 63rd Street was purchased by Lyman Gustave Bloomingdale who, with his brother Joseph B., had expanded their hoop skirt shop in 1872 to a full women's apparel store, called the East Side Bazaar.  Then in 1886 they moved their operation to 59th Street and Lexington Avenue, far north of the ladies' shopping district.  It was a daring but successful move.  By the time Lyman purchased the former Ferry house both he and his brother had large personal fortunes.

Lyman and his wife, the former Hattie Cullenberger, had four children, Hiram, Samuel, Irving and Corinne.  As well as being a successful merchant, Bloomingdale dabbled in real estate, was a patron in perpetuity of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Treasurer of the Temple Beth-El and several other institutions, and a Director of the Montefiore Home.  

In 1896 Joseph Bloomingdale retired, leaving Lyman as the sold proprietor of what was now known as Bloomingdale's Department Store.

By the turn of the century the brownstone residence was architecturally outdated.  In 1900 Bloomingdale hired the architectural firm of Buchman & Fox to completely transform it.  The facade and stoop were removed and the front pulled forward to the property line.  The limestone-faced Beaux Arts palace that emerged left no hint of the Jacob Ferry house.

photo from the collection of the New York Public Library

The architects offset the understated entrance with its metal hood above a short flight of steps.  Two-story midsection was introduced by a full-width pseudo-balcony with elaborately carved stone railings.  A balustrade at the fourth floor pretended to be a full-width balcony as well.  Rather than a cornice, the architects gave the mansion a handsome parapet.

Inside was a notable art collection.  The Evening World later say of Bloomingdale, "He has been a liberal patron of American art and owned one of the finest collections of the best examples of foremost American painters."

The Bloomingdale summer house, Newcomb Cottage, was in Elberon, New Jersey; a resort popular among wealthy Jewish New Yorkers.  The family owned a country residence, Wagner Cottage, in Delaware County, New York, as well.  Between 3:00 and 4:00 on the morning of July 28, 1903 the unoccupied Wagner Cottage was destroyed by fire.  The New York Times estimated its worth at about $10,000--more in the neighborhood of $300,000 today.  "The origin of the fire is unknown," said the article, "but it is supposed to have been caused by boys using the grounds as a rendezvous for skylarking."

from The University Jewish Encyclopedia, 1940.

Irving Bloomingdale was 24-years old in 1902.   At a time when horses were still the main mode of transportation, he owned a motorcar.  It got him in trouble on November 19 that year.  The New-York Tribune reported that he "was passing Seventy-first-st. and Central Park West last night in an automobile at a speed that caused Bicycle Policeman Kerrigan to start in pursuit."  The officer estimated Bloomingdale's speed "at a greater rate than fifteen miles an hour."  Before Irving could be confined to a cell his father arrived with bail.

In 1903 Corinne was married to Arthur G. Popper.  As a wedding present Lyman and Hattie purchased the house at No. 48 East 66th Street, conveniently nearby.  As he had done with his own house, Lyman commissioned architect George A. Schellinger to remodel the outdated residence.

Irving's brush with the law in 1902 seems not to have diminished his tendency to speed.  On April 21, 1905 the New York Herald reported that he had been arrested "after a lively chase at 101st street, in the East Drive, in Central Park."  Mounted Policeman Brennan charged him with "driving his machine twenty-five miles an hour."  Irving pleaded not-guilty this time.  He insisted "he was being guided as to his rate of progress by a podometer, which he had on the machine, and that he was sure he did not transgress the speed ordinance."

Weeks after most families had returned to their city homes, the Bloomingdale family was still at Elberon in October 1905.  That was possibly because of Lyman's health.  The New-York Tribune reported "Mr. Bloomingdale had been in poor health all summer.  He suffered from heart trouble."  On October 6 he experienced a heart attack and the following week later, on October 13, he died.

Word was sent immediately to Bloomingdale's Department Store.  The Evening World reported "Immediately upon the receipt of the news of the death the big Third avenue department store was closed and the thousands of employees were sent home for the day."

The Evening World, October 13, 1905 (copyright expired)

The newspapers assured that the three sons would carry on the business; however the will provided an odd twist.  It allowed his three sons and their mother to continue running Bloomingdale’s Department Store for “not more than five years.” The sons successfully petitioned “to acquire the business if possible.”

The will also made provisions for more than 200 employees of the department store "of ten years' standing."  Large amounts were left to charitable institutions as well, like the $25,000 provided to the Montefore Home Country Sanitarium for Consumptives--more than three-quarters of a million in today's money.

In 1911 Hattie sold the 63rd Street house to William Burhans Isham and his wife, the former Hannah Collins.  In reporting on the sale, the New York Herald noted "Mrs. Bloomingdale has resided in the house for the last twenty-four years."

William's first wife, Sarah, had died in 1908 and he had married Hannah just months before purchasing No. 21.  Isham was a wealthy leather merchant.  Hannah was descended from a prominent Quaker family.  Her ancestor, John Bowne, had built the historic Bowne House in Flushing in 1661.  The couple maintained a summer estate, The Elms, in Warrensburgh, New York.  It was built by William's grandfather, Benjamin P. Burhans.

The Ishams had no children, but the house was the scene of a society wedding reception on November 8, 1919 following the marriage of Helen Palmer to William Paull Jacob.

William Burhans Isham died in the 63rd Street house on April 1, 1929.  His $1 million estate (about 15 times that much today) was distributed mostly to educational and charitable institutions.  While Hannah was given "life use" of the two residences, upon her death the 63rd Street house would become property of Princeton University and The Elms would go to the Board of National Mission of the Presbyterian Church.

The 63rd Street house was the scene of a society wedding on January 21, 1943 when Hannah's brother, Minturn Post Collins married Edith Buckingham.  The announcement of the couple's engagement had raised social eyebrows--the groom was 72-years old and the bride 23.

For the summer season of 1948 Hannah Isham leased Vernon Hall, the Southampton estate of the Princess Irbain-Kahn Kaplanoff.  She died there on July 31.

The 63rd Street house now officially became property of Princeton University, which quickly sold it to Mary Stevens Baird.  The new owner converted the house to a store and offices.  The shop became home to the exclusive jewelry store Schlumberger.  The New York Times later deemed Jean Schlumberger "one of the leading jewelry designers of the 20th century."

The upper floor offices were home to Tex McCrary, television pioneer, journalist and public relations specialist.  McCrary later told a reporter "the office was designed like a television studio, so we could shoot TV clips there" and mentioned that the associates would "look out the window at the famous people" who came and went through Schumberger's door.

On February 16, 1951 the store was the target of a slick robber who called ahead for an appointment.  The dapper Mr. Griffin arrived around 4:00 and spent about 45 minutes leisurely shopping for an engagement ring.  Then as he asked Nicolas Bongard, a partner of Jean Schlumberger, to look at a stain on his gray homburg hat, he revealed a gun.  Having taken the time to select his loot, the robber made off with $40,000 worth of unmounted diamonds.

The audacity of his heist was repeated a month later, almost to the day, when he returned.  This time he was not so suave.  As he walked in the door he waved a black revolver.  He locked up the three of the four people in the store, including Jean Schlumberger, in a lavatory and forced a salesman to assist him in packing the loot.  This time he left with $160,000 worth of gems--a total heist in the two robberies of $1.97 million today.

But when Arthur Chesler, aka Mr. Griffin, pressed his luck by attempting a third robbery he failed.  Schumberger had hired a Pinkerton detective who refused admittance to anyone who could not provide proper identification.   Foiled, Chesler rushed away, dropping his hat.  The expensive headgear was traced to the manufacturer, who identified the retail store, which identified the buyer.  Chesler was arrested on June 26, 1951.

By 1956 the Chase Gallery was in the former jewelry store space.  Over the years the upstairs offices would see tenants like Diana Ross and Ronald O Perelman's MacAndrews & Forbes Holdings, Inc.  In 1979 a renovation updated the offices and added a fifth floor which took the form of a mansard roof.  It, as well, replaced Buchman & Fox's ground floor with an aluminum and glass commercial facade that the AIA Guide to New York City called a "mutilation."

In 1994 the new owners the Mexican-based Nacional Financeria embarked on an exterior restoration by architects Guy Lindsay Kohn and G.J.C. Structures.  The remarkable architectural rebirth resulted in a centered doorway within a rusticated base of which the original architects would undoubtedly have approved.

photo via Sotheby's International Realty

In 2002 the Swiss-based jeweler Chopard purchased the property for $9.25 million and converted it to its headquarters.  It listed it in 2019 for $40 million as a 12-room, four bedroom property with "all new state-of-the-art" interiors.  In describing the house, the realtor beamed that it was "being gutted right now" so the buyer could finish the interiors as desired.