The Thomas J. Lipton Building - 149-151 Franklin Street

 

On March 24, 1888 the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that architect Charles C. Haight was working on plans for a "brick and stone warehouse" for John E. Parsons at 149 and 151 Franklin Street.  The block, between Varick and Hudson Streets, had been a neighborhood of two-and-a-half story Federal style houses in the 1830's.  But times had changed.

The district which a century later would be known as Tribeca had begun transforming shortly after the end of the Civil War.  Modern loft buildings replaced vintage houses.  Parsons, who was a well-known attorney--one of the founders and president of the New York Law Institute--joined the trend.

The 58-foot-wide, six-story Romanesque Revival style structure was completed in 1889.  Haight's design, arranged in four vertical sections, forewent the chunky, undressed blocks and vast arches expected in the style.  Instead, crisp-sided brick piers and rectangular openings resulted in a regimented, geometric pattern.  Romanesque appeared in the arched opening, with its delicate foliate spandrel and entablature carvings, and in the intricate designs of the cast spandrels between floors.

The completed building became home to Fishel & Levy, wholesale liquor merchants.  Operated by Joseph M. Fishel and brothers Morris and Adolph Levy, the firm would remain until around 1908.  

It was joined in the building at the turn of the century by the International Arithmachine Co., which manufactured and sold early adding machines.  An advertisement on April 2, 1900 read:

Agent, quick at figures, to sell the smallest, fastest, cheapest practical computing machine; adds, substracts, multiplies, &c.  Address International Arithmachine Co., 149,151 Franklin st.

At the time of that advertisement, Sir Thomas J. Lipton's tea business operated from The Lipton Building, steps away at the corner of Franklin and Hudson Streets.  But disaster struck in February 1905 when that building was destroyed by fire.  On March 5, the New-York Tribune reported that John E. Parsons had leased 149-151 Franklin to Lipton.

Thomas Lipton had worked in his parents' grocery store in Glasgow, Scotland as a teen.  The enterprising boy saw potential in providing affordable tea to the middle classes.  He was the first to sell tea in tea bags, and to print brewing instructions on the bags.

By now he was a multi-millionaire, had been knighted by Edward VII, and his tea was a household name internationally.  

The urgency to move into 149-151 Franklin Street was such that corners were cut.  The New York Times explained, "When the building was leased by the Lipton Company from Mr. Parsons the owner was to have forty days in which to make repairs.  The tea company was in a hurry to get into the building, and as it was vacant, the landlord permitted it."  Sir Thomas Lipton would rue the decision four years later.

Perhaps the greatest threat to tea is water.  In 1912 a water tank overflowed, ruining a significant amount of product.  Sir Thomas Lipton sued John E. Parsons for damages.  But because he had released Parsons from his obligation to repair any defects, the verdict was disappointing.  The jury in State Supreme Court ruled in Parsons's favor on February 17, 1913.  The New York Times reported, "It is alleged that the Superintendent of the Lipton establishment turned the water on without looking at the pipes, and the defendant asserted that the damages were caused by his negligence."

John E. Parsons died on January 16, 1915.  The following year his son, Herbert, sold 149-151 Franklin Street.  Somewhat surprisingly, Lipton did not purchase the building, choosing instead to continue leasing.  In reporting the sale, the Real Estate Record & Guide commented, "The property is located in the wholesale grocery district and will be benefited by the new Seventh avenue subway now in course of construction, which will pass within 100 feet of the building."

The shortage of male workers during World War I may have contributed to the wording of a help-wanted advertisement on July 1, 1918.  It sought: "Girls.  Salary $8 start.  No experience necessary.  Easy work.  Steady Employment.  Thomas J. Lipton, 149 Franklin St."  The salary would equal about $135 per week today.

But the scarcity of men did not preclude the firm's prejudice in hiring a janitor two months later.  The ad on September 9 specifically sought a "porter (white)."

In August 1919 Thomas J. Lipton, Inc. leased a 12-story building in Hoboken, New Jersey and moved its operation from Manhattan.  The following month it transferred its lease on 149-151 Franklin Street to Berth, Levi & Co., manufacturers of sausage casings.

The building was sold in December 1936 but, as Lipton had done, Berth, Levi & Co. chose to continue leasing.  The firm would remain at the address for years.

The third quarter of the century saw a renaissance within the Tribeca district.  In a New York Times article on January 14, 1994, Angela Taylor reported on Maria Susana Salgado's fur-and-yarn garments, which she made and sold in her loft-studio in 149-151 Franklin Street.  Salgado, who had begun as a sculptor in her native Argentina, came to America in 1967 on a Government grant to study art.  Her custom pieces were pricey.  A jacket cost $1,500--more in the neighborhood of $3,750 today.

A renovation completed in 1993 resulted in a store on the first floor, offices on the second, and loft dwellings on the upper floors.  In April 1995 Wyeth, a vintage furniture shop, opened in the store.  On July 5, 2000, the space became home to Interieurs, a furniture store.  Today, Patron of The New, a men's clothing store occupies the space.

photographs by the author

LaptrinhX.com has no authorization to reuse the content of this blog

Charles C. Haight's 1878 275 Canal Street

On October 19, 1870 millionaire Henry E. Pellew purchased the empty "gore lot" at No. 275 Canal Street from Jonathan Edwards.  It would be eight years before he developed the plot, hiring the 37-year old architect Charles Coolidge Haight to design a loft and store building in 1878.  

Pellew was a highly respected and influential businessman.  On February 12, as Haight was working on the plans for his new building, Pellew was a pallbearer at the funeral of Theodore Roosevelt, Sr., the father of the future President of the United States.

Completed within the year, No. 275 Canal Street exhibited strong elements of the Romanesque Revival style to which Haight repeatedly returned over the next decades.  It was most evident in the arched openings of the fourth and fifth floors.  The Queen Anne style made its appearance in dog tooth brickwork panels between the second and third floors and the fanciful pierced cornice designs flanked by stone gablets.

Stone capitals adorn the pilasters and clustered columns of the fourth and fifth floors.  The stone eyebrows of the fourth floor are mimicked in black brick at the fifth.  The Queen Anne style cornice is extraordinary.

The building became home to Eastman, Bigelow & Dayton, "silk and fancy drygoods" merchants.   The firm had begun as Eastman, Sheldon & Townsend in 1845; but after Sheldon was lost at sea on a return voyage from Europe in 1855, the Alden B. Bigelow and Milton P. Dayton joined Albert L. Eastman to form the new organization.

The New-York Sketch Book and Merchant's Guide noted that the firm's "chief feature" was ladies' dress trimmings.  "Their assortment of these goods is always large, and of the newest styles" it said, adding "Their stock also comprises a complete assortment of Taffetas and Satin Ribbons, Bonnet Ribbons, Kid Gloves, Embroideries, &c., &c."

The firm had been in its new home only about a year when valuable silk velvet ribbon disappeared.  The stolen goods were valued at more than $700--or about $18,500 in today's money.  A break in the case came around October 15, 1879 when a customer informed the firm that "quantities of black ribbon, known as 'the Black Friar' brand in the original packages as imported, and bearing the trade-mark of the firm, were being offered for sale at a much lower rate," according to The New York Times.

The ribbon was tracked down to the shop of merchant tailor I. M. Witkoski. and an elaborate plot was discovered.  The goods were initially stolen by a janitor, who sold them to a mattress maker, John Gurney.  Gurney then resold the goods to Benjamin M. Wilkoski, the brother of the the shop's owner.

In court Wilkoski freely admitted he had purchased the ribbon and was reselling it; but said he had no way of knowing the goods were stolen.  He testified that "he had taken them from a man for whom he had made several suits of clothes, in payment for the clothing."  Judge Gildersleeve was unmoved and on November 17 sentenced the tailor to three years in State Prison.

The 1890's saw Casse, Lackey & Co., makers of window shades (renamed Pinney, Casse & Lackey in 1892); the Leopold Ascher Co., makers of paint and shaving brushes; and William Harvey, manufacturers of canes and umbrella handles, in the building.

The Beta Theta Pi magazine, October 1893 (copyright expired)

William Harvey's factory employed 8 men, 18 women, 14 girls under 21 years old and 4 girls under 16 in 1893.  They worked long hours--59 hours during the week and 9 on Saturday.  The firm reorganized around 1898 when it became the Harvey & Watts Co.

In June 1899 Henry Pellew commissioned architects Horenburger & Straub to make structural improvements to No. 275, including new iron girders.

Of the 31 employees in Leopold Ascher's brush factory in 1902, only five were men.  One of them was John Barkey, who lived in Brooklyn and walked to and from work over the Brooklyn Bridge.  Barkey was one of thousands of workers who used the pedestrian crossing, creating what was known as the "Brooklyn Bridge crush" at rush hours.

On the evening of October 21, 1902 Barkey became caught up in what the New York Press described as a "fighting, impatient crowd."  As a streetcar passed, Barkey was forced against it by the mass of pedestrians.  The article explained that "as the car was in motion he could stay on his feet no longer and fell under the car.  As soon as he came in contact with a wheel that tore off his toes, he dragged himself under the feet of the passing throng."

Barkey screamed in pain until Patrolman J. Flood "rescued the man from under the heels of the crowd."  He was taken to the Hudson Street Hospital where his toes were amputated.

In 1902 Pinney, Casse & Lackey Company merged with the Columbia Shade Cloth Company, located next door at No. 273 Canal Street.  The Charles E. Matthews office furniture company took its place in No. 275.

Batten's Wedge magazine, February 1906 (copyright expired)

Charles E. Matthews remained in the space at least through 1913.  The 1920's saw the Reliance Lighting Fixture Corp., manufacturers of electric light fixtures under the brand name Relifco; and the Allied Fruit & Extract Co., makers of food items like maraschino cherries, in the building.

Sixty-three years after their father had purchased the property Marion and Charles E. Pellew sold No. 275 Canal Street to the Myr-Mil Holding Company in November 1933.  The new owners made alterations which did away with factory space.  Completed in 1935, the changes resulted in a store and showroom on the ground floor and additional showrooms on the upper floors.

Among the tenants in the 1940's was the Royal Sundries Corp., which sold novelties like the Marvo Cigarette Roller.  An advertisement in The Billboard on October 6, 1945 touted its "metal sides" and offered the item "in quantities" for 5 cents each.

In 1961 a drug store operated from the ground floor.  On February 20 that year the Long Island Star-Journal entitled a front page article "3-Alarmer Snarls Traffic" and reported "The fire which broke out shortly after 5 A. M. in a five-story commercial building at 275 Canal street soon raged through three floors of the structure."

While damaging the interior, the blaze left Charles C. Haight's striking facade intact.  The building was renovated again in 2020 to create office space above the ground floor store.

photographs by the author

The New York Cancer Hospital - Central Park West and 106th Street

photo by Sarah Javier

At the same time that Charlotte Augusta Astor, wife of John Jacob Astor III, was actively supporting cancer research and the care of victims of the then-incurable disease, Elizabeth Hamilton Cullum, the wife of Major-General George Washington Cullum, conceived of a hospital dedicated solely to the treatment of cancer.  

In 1882 John Jacob Astor offered to erect a pavilion for the treatment of cancer patients at the Women's Hospital.  Astor's generous offer was refused, so he turned to Elizabeth Cullum's idea of a New York Cancer Hospital and in 1884 the project got off the ground.  On May 17 The Record & Guide announced "The Cancer Hospital has taken title to the property on Eighth avenue [later Central Park West], recently purchased from Mr. Cohnfeld."  That property, engulfing the blockfront from 105th to 106th Street, came at a price of $80,000--about $2.15 million today.

Architect Charles Coolidge Haight filed plans in September.  Construction costs were projected at the equivalent of just over $5 million today.  Physicians provided him with guidelines on the most up-to-minute theories on hospital design.

Elizabeth Cullum would not live to see her vision completed.  On September 15, the same month that the plans were filed, she died.  When the details of her estate were released The Syracuse Standard reported on November 20 "The late Mrs. Elizabeth H. Cullum's will provides that her whole estate in New York city shall go to the New York Cancer Hospital."  Her West Coast property went to her husband.

On August 15, 1885 as the hospital rose the Record & Guide commented "This is of considerably more interest than all the buildings we have been talking about put together.  The novelty of the design, the group of round towers that give the building its resemblance to a sixteenth century French chateau, is an outgrown of the plan, since in the diseases to the treatment of which this hospital is devoted it is especially desirable to avoid corners which prevent the thorough cleaning of rooms."  The physicians who had consulted with Haight had urged that corners, where germs may accumulate and grow, be avoided.

Before the main building was completed Haight was called back to design a four-story "laundry and dormitory building" and a one-story "boiler-house."  The Record & Guide noted on January 2, 1886 "The laundry will contain accommodations for persons employed in that department."

The formal opening of the first facility dedicated to the treatment of cancer in the United States (there was only one other in the world, that one in London) was held on December 6, 1887.  The Evening World noted that "The building and grounds cost $350,000."  Of that amount Astor had contributed $200,000 (more than $5.5 million in today's money).  In announcing the ceremonies, The Evening Telegram said "Unfortunately Mrs. Astor is too ill to be present."  Ironically, she died of cancer six days later.

Even at the opening ceremonies there was talk of expansion.  The Sun reported that John E. Parsons, president of the board of trustees, said that "the present building is for women only, and the next to be built will be for men.  A chapel will also be built.

Charles C. Haight had created an architectural tour de force.  The Record & Guide said "The design belongs to the best period of French renaissance, such as greet the eye in the valley of the Loire distinguished by soft graceful lines, full of repose and calm beauty, and tourelles appropriate to the gentle undulations of the landscape."

The ground floor held the office of the superintendent, reception rooms, staff offices and a temporary chapel.  The Medical Record reported "The main staircase is of bronze, with stone steps."  The second and third floors contained wards and private rooms.  Each ward, located in the rounded towers, held eleven patients.  Private rooms contained one or two beds.  Haight put the operating theater and kitchen on the top floor--the first because of the better light, and the kitchen to keep the cooking smells and smoke away from the patients.  

The Architectural Record, July 1899 (copyright expired)

Ventilation in the wards was of utmost importance. “It has been found that the air of each ward can be changed completely with closed doors and windows every five minutes, and that, too, without producing annoying and dangerous draughts,” said The Times.  Openings in the brick walls between the windows brought fresh air into the rooms. The “vitiated air” was sucked out through an iron column in the center of each ward by a fan in the cellar.

Natural light flooded into the operating theaters on the top floor.  from the archives of Memorial Sloane Kettering

John Jacob Astor continued to give generously to the institution.  Two years after the opening, on January 5, 1889, the Record & Guide reported that Charles C. Haight was again working on drawings, this time for an addition "which is to be known as the 'Astor Pavilion,' and also for a memorial chapel."  The cost would be paid "from a fund devoted to the purpose by Mr. Astor."

Haight's chapel (center) and men's pavilion were designed seamlessly.  photo by Jim Henderson

Astor had provided another $145,000 for a men's pavilion.  The New-York Daily Tribune reminded readers "At present the hospital receives only women, having accommodations for seventy."  The new wing would double that capacity with these beds for men.

On May 2, 1890 The Otsego Farmer detailed the works of the facility.  "The New York cancer hospital, as well known as the 'Astor hospital,' because of the liberal foundations given it by that family, counts among its patrons the very elect of New York's best families...The number of patients treated in 1889 was 273; and an average of 40 days was devoted to each patient."  Of those 106 cases were "cured," 71 "improved," 82 unimproved, 42 died and 18 were still undergoing treatment.

Patients paid $7 to $20 week while they were hospitalized--the most expensive equaling about $580 today.  The article pointed out that "This is remitted where the patient is unable to pay."

The men's pavilion was completed first.  The Chapel of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, named as a memorial to Elizabeth Hamilton Cullum, was dedicated on November 27, 1892.  The Sun reported "The prevailing tone of decoration is gold bronze, which contrasts admirably with the oaken work and the stone."

The chapel and men's pavilion were added to the southern end of the original building.  King's Handbook of New York City, 1893 (copyright expired)

In May 1899 the New York legislature changed the name of the institution to General Memorial Hospital for Treatment of Cancer and Allied Diseases.  The name change most likely had to do with the broadened case load.  Two months later the Architectural Record noted that it "was projected as a cancer hospital, though it is now used only in part, if at all, for that purpose."

A horrifying accident occurred here early in 1903.  Madeline Calder was being prepared for an operation by nurse Helen Smith who rubbed her body with a mixture of alcohol and ether.  The Evening World reported "The nurse, it is alleged, disobeyed one of the rules of the hospital in using a lighted candle, instead of performing her duties by the aid of the electric light."

The candle sat within a small glass and, rather foolishly, Helen placed it on the bed as she worked.  "It upset and set fire to the bedclothes.  Mrs. Calder endeavored to throw herself out of the blazing bed, but it was too late, and she died a short time afterwards, after suffering excruciating agony."  Madeline's husband, John H. Calder, sued General Memorial Hospital for the equivalent of $3 million in today's dollars.

Despite the incident, the General Memorial Hospital continued to treat some of the wealthiest and most prominent New Yorkers.  Among them were August Belmont, who received an appendicitis operation in February 1909; Herbert L. Satterlee, son-in-law of J. Pierpont Morgan in 1912; and Mrs. August Belmont (who, like her husband, also had an appendicitis operation) in 1915. 

A view from 106th Street taken around 1930 shows the still-pristine courtyard.  from the archives of Memorial Sloan Kettering.

The hospital underwent two name changes before moving out of the old building permanently in 1955 as Memorial Sloan Kettering Hospital.  Shortly thereafter Bernard Bergman purchased the structure, converting it to Towers Nursing Home. Bergman managed the home with scandalous disregard for the patients or their conditions. Residents complained of no heat, vermin infestations, neglect, filth and odors, and physical abuse.

The wards, created with no corners to preclude the accumulation of dirt, were soiled and sickening. Prompted by numerous grievances, state and federal authorities initiated an investigation. Towers Nursing Home was closed in 1974. Only when the New York Landmarks Preservation Commission gave the building landmark status was demolition prevented.

Haight’s remarkable French Renaissance chateau sat empty and neglected for twenty-six years. Vandals broke in.  Rain poured through the windows and roof.  It became Central Park West’s version of a haunted house.  Ailanthus trees grew from the turrets

In 2001 Chicago developers MCL Companies purchased the structure.  Architects Rothzeid Kaiserman Thomson & Bee had been working on various proposals for the renovation of 455 Central Park West for almost 20 years.  Now the two firms began working together to bring the building back to life.

The extent of the decay was far worse than almost anyone had imagined.  The interior was essentially gutted.  Everything other than the exterior walls had to be replaced.  Using historic photographs, Rothzeid Kaiserman Thomson & Bee removed mid-20th century additions, replicated details that could not be saved, and used salvaged elements to restore the main structure.

Charles Haight's "gold bronze" decorations were resurfaced as the chapel transformed to residences.  photo via RKTB Architects

In 2004 the renovated building was complete.  The historic hospital consists, now, of luxury apartments–even in the neo-Gothic style chapel–connected to a 22-story tower.  The renovation earned no fewer than six awards from preservation and engineering organizations. 

The Lost St. Paul's Vestry House - 29 Vesey Street

The rear of the large complex edged up to St. Paul's burial ground.  photo by Irving Underhill from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

As New York City expanded northward, a "chapel of convenience" was deemed necessary for those Trinity Church parishioners who had moved farther away.  Completed in 1766 St. Paul's Chapel sat in what, prior to ground breaking, had been a wheat field.  The chapel turned its back to Broadway so as to afford pleasing views of the river and to take advantage of its cooling breezes.

At the end of the Civil War the neighborhood around the chapel was bustling.   The famous Astor House hotel sat on the adjoining Vesey Street corner to the north and commercial buildings now girded the church property.  In 1868, according to A History of Real Estate, Building and Architecture in New York, "St. Paul's School, Church street, in the rear of St. Paul's Church, was under way."

The outreach of St. Paul's expanded as the city grew around it.  In 1886 architect Charles C. Haight was commissioned to design a sprawling multi-use building that would stretch the width of the Church Street block, from Vesey to Fulton Streets.  It edged up against the lower fringe of the burial ground.

His brick and stone neo-Tudor structure featured the expected historical elements--diamond paned windows, romantic stone oriels, and a decorative belfry with a copper bell-shaped cap.

Numerous facilities were housed under the new building's roof, the Parish Hall and Parish House, the chapel offices, and the schools.  There were two schools, one for boys and another, opened later, for girls.  The courses of instruction within the two were, given the period, necessarily different.  While boys were trained in the academics they would need in business, girls received instruction as well in "sewing, drawing, vocal music, and modeling in clay."

In a clever scheme to ensure trained voices in the St. Paul's Chapel choir, the venue also provided one-on-one sessions for adults wishing improve their singing abilities.  The only price was their committing to join the choir.  The Extract from the Year Book and Register of Trinity Parish that year included a description of "The St. Paul's Chapel Free Training School for Church and Concert Singers."

The members, twelve ladies and ten gentlemen, receive from the organist one private lesson a week of an half hour's duration, in cultivation of the voice and reading at sight.  For this they bind themselves to assume the duties of choristers in the choir of this Chapel.

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

As with all private boys' schools, the St. Paul's School included a drill room where male students received military training.  On December 27, 1895 the New-York Tribune reported "There was a numerous assembly of men and women last night in the main hall of St. Paul's parish house, No. 29 Vesey-st., at the presentation of a large silk American flag to the St. Paul's cadets by Lafayette Post, no. 140, G. A. R."

Simultaneously the girl students had been plying their talents for another presentation to the boys.   Two months later, on February 14, 1896, The New York Times announced "The St. Paul's Cadets held a special drill last night in their drillroom, at 29 Vesey Street, and were also the recipients of a set of guidons [military standards], which were presented to them by the Girls' Friendly Society of St. Paul's Church.  The two guidons are of blue silk, each bearing the letters, 'S.P.C.,' worked in gold braid."

Girls students in a reading circle and in patriotic exercises around the turn of the century.  photo via trinitywallstreet.org

The building was the scene of meeting of 200 "business and professional men" on November 12, 1897.  Hosted by the New York Local Assembly of the Brotherhood of St. Andrew, its purpose was to impart the importance of the "fundamental ideas of Christian life" in business dealings.

That meeting was a hint of the evolution of the neighborhood and, in response, of St. Paul's Chapel's redefining its services.  Once surrounded by refined residences, the chapel now also served businessmen and tenement residents.  

On June 26, 1898 The New York Times reported "The mothers of some of the children who come to the missionary meetings to sew for the poor of the parish and for missions in other parts of the country, tell of their parents who were educated at St. Paul's School."   The article noted "There are three school rooms occupied by the girls, though all the girls of the parish do not attend, by any means, for the cable cars on Broadway run too frequently for careful mothers to allow their little ones to cross the busy street.  In addition to the day school, where the children learn all kinds of plain sewing, in addition to other studies, there are societies for the children, the older girls, and the mothers."

At the turn of the century St. Paul's was highly active in outreach to the business community around it.  Women now held jobs in offices--a situation previously unheard of.  And there was no shortage of unprincipled employers willing to take advantage of the young women.

Two shots from the same vantage point show the city rising up around the Vestry House (lower right)  photos from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

The vicar of St. Paul's Chapel responded by organizing a "guild of stenographers and typewriters" in the Vestry House building in 1907.  ("Typewriter" was early term for "secretary.")  Rev. W. Montague Geer explained to reporters "There is peril in abundance in this condition of affairs, and this peril ought, of course, to be reduced to the lowest possible term."

On February 22, 1907 the New-York Tribune reported "At the end of its fourth week, St. Paul's Chapel Club for Business and Professional Women has reached its limit of membership."  A typewritten sign in the "pleasant parish house of St. Paul's" explained that the group now had 300 members and enrollment was closed.  A waiting list already held 100 hopeful names.  

Among the advantages of the club were a lunch room where hot foot was available (a monthly ticket cost 25 cents) and reading room.

Female professionals chatter over lunch in what the New-York Tribune described as "the beautiful, banner hung, oak raftered, lead paned hall in St. Paul's parish house."  photo via trinitywallstreet.org

Others while their lunch hour away in the reading room, one catching up on her needlework.  photo via trinitywallstreet.org

St. Paul's Chapel continued to adapt to the changing demographics of downtown Manhattan.  In 1909 The Chinese Sunday School was formed.  Three years later the curiosity of local businessmen was satisfied when The New York Times explained "A sign in Chinese characters hanging on the Broadway fence surrounding St. Paul's Church, which has attracted considerable attention from passersby, was translated yesterday by one of the clergy attached to the church.  It is merely an announcement of the Chinese Sunday School run in connection with the church at 29 Vesey Street."  The article added "The sign is the handiwork of Yu Yuo Tsu, one of the twenty Chinese students at the Sunday school, which has been organized about three years."

Members of the Chinese Sunday School.   photo via trinitywallstreet.org

In the spring of 1913 the City was planning a new subway which, according to the New-York Tribune on May 21, "will run down Broadway and curve under the southeasterly part of the Astor House, across Vesey street and under the northwest corner of St. Paul's churchyard into Church street to Trinity Place and on to the East River."  But the City promised there was no danger to St. Paul's Vestry House.  It had agreed to pay Trinity Church $129,000 for "easement rights" under the building, and budgeted another $89,000 to ensure support of "the parish house and school."

And so business in the Vestry House complex went on as usual.   Memorial exercises for the 17th anniversary of the sinking of the battleship Maine were held here on February 15, 1915; and with a new war raging in 1917, a lunchroom for soldiers and sailors in uniform was opened.  Later that year, on October 27, The Living Church reported "Large classes are attending the free lessons in military French which are given at the parish hall of St Paul's Chapel, 29 Vesey street, to soldiers, sailors, doctors and nurses preparing to go to the battle line."

In the meantime construction of the subway was going on underneath the Vestry Building.  On October 4, 1916 engineer H. De B. Parsons addressed a meeting of the American Society of Civil Engineers, during which he explained in part "As the tunnels run diagonally beneath the building, it was necessary to remove its original foundations entirely, to construct new foundation piers, and to transfer the load of the building to these new piers by means of cross-girders."

Transactions of the American Society of Civil Engineers, 1917 (copyright expired)

In 1918 the membership of the Business Women's Club had grown to 800.  The Vestry Building now also housed the Missionary Society, the Young Men's Club, Boy Scouts of America, Camp Fire Girls, the Girls' Friendly Society, the Women's Singing Class, the Candidates Class "for girls under fifteen," the Chinese Sunday School and "popular half-hour band concerts every week," according to the Directory of Social and Health Agencies of New York City.  There was also an Employment Bureau, described as "a free bureau to counsel and help male and female applicants."

On February 29, 1922 The New York Herald reported "Clouds of smoke poured from the upper windows of St. Paul's Parish House at 29 Vesey street yesterday and many thought the church buildings in Church street doomed."  The Evening World reported "Fire Watchers Fill St. Paul's Graveyard" and reported that people fled down to the fire escapes.  Fire fighters, however, found the source of the fire and soon extinguished it.

Two weeks later, however, a more serious blaze erupted.  On March 21 the Fire Marshall Brophy established that "the fire started from spontaneous combustion in a wooden closet in the luncheon club on the top floor, in which were stored a collection of cans partly filled with paint, some turpentine and a case of paraffin drinking cups."  Damages amounted to $100,000, according to The New York Times; nearly $1.5 million today.

Transactions of the American Society of Civil Engineers, 1917 (copyright expired)

New Yorkers may have been shocked when The New York Times reported on June 4, 1927 "After operating every week-day for some twenty years the Mid-Day Lunch Club for Business Women at St. Paul's house, Vesey and Church Streets, has been closed because the city has taken over the property on which the building stands for subway construction...The clergy offices have removed to the second floor of the Astor House Building, 217 Broadway."

The venerable brick and stone structure, long a landmark in downtown Manhattan, was demolished, leaving no hint that a building ever stood on the site.  Today a wide sidewalk, pierced by subway entrances, and a widened Church Street appear to have always been there.

Corsets and Bolts - 81 White Street

Acting as trustee for the estate of Mary W. Hopkins, Stephen L. Hopkins acquired the old, two-story wooden house at No. 81 White Street in 1881.   Like all the brick and wooden dwellings in the neighborhood, it was soon to go.

The Hopkins estate contracted architect Charles C. Haight to design a modern loft building in its place.  Romanesque Revival had gained a sturdy foothold in architectural taste by now, greatly empowered by Henry Hobson Richardson's works, like his masterful Trinity Church in Boston.  The medieval-inspired style often relied on heavy carvings, massive arches, and muscular stonework.

So it is perhaps a bit surprising that Haight chose the style for the 25-foot wide plot.  His solution was a pleasing toned-down version of Romanesque Revival with no carvings nor chunky medieval columns.  Instead the asymmetrical red brick facade was relieved by brownstone bandcourses.  Above the ground floor where a cast iron storefront nestled within the brick, three stories of wide and narrow openings culminated in rounded windows capped with a continuous brownstone archivolt (or "eyebrow").  Haight successfully created the illusion of two three-story arches.  Carved brownstone bosses dripped from the points of the archivolts, the architect's historic nod to the middle ages.

Although an arcade might have been expected for the top floor--certainly in keeping with the style--Haight opted for side-by-side rectangular windows topped with a common brownstone lintel.  At either side were brick corbels which originally upheld an architecturally appropriate cornice, perhaps lost in the devastating fire seven years later.

Among the first tenants was Caxton Bookbinding Co.  In July 1883 the firm was looking for a "good book cutter."   Another early firm was Ferris Bros., manufacturers of corsets.  The company offered corsets for all ages of users, including (hard to believe today) infants.

Terra Haute Weekly Gazette, August 12, 1886 (copyright expired)

Caxton Bookbinding was still in the building in 1888.   It shared the upper floors with three dry goods commission merchants--Posner Brothers, Mahler & Myer, and S. Lepousky.  At street level was Simon & Strelitzer, cloth commission merchants.

A fire broke out in the building at around 7:30 on the night of January 2.  It traveled up the elevator shaft, spreading throughout the structure.   An inferno resulted when it reached the bookbinding shop, with its highly flammable contents.  The Sun reported "The cloths, book bindings, paste, paints, and chemicals in the Caxton book concern's rooms burned fiercely.  The fire burst through the iron shutters at the rear and shot toward the houses on Franklin street."

The thick smoke made White Street "absolutely dark," said the newspaper.  So intense was the heat that windows of factories facing Walker Street, a block to the north, blew out.  Despite the frigid winter temperatures, "the sidewalk below these buildings were so hot that dripping water turned to steam."

The New York Times reported "At 10 o'clock the extent of the disaster was the gutting of 81, the seriously damaging of 79 and 83 and 85, and the gutting of the sixth floor of 82 and 84 White-street."  Caxton alone suffered $35,000 in lost stock and machinery--more than $900,000 in today's dollars.

Charles C. Haight was brought back to make repairs.  He filed plans on March 9 with a projected cost of more than a third of a million dollars today.

The renovated building was leased to J. H. Bishop "the well-known manufacturer of skin rugs and sleigh robes," as described by the Fur Trade Review on July 1, 1890.   The product were a necessity for winter passengers in open sleighs.  The magazine said the Wyandotte, Michigan-based firm "has fitted it up for a warehouse and salesrooms for the display of his very popular productions."

J. H. Bishop's enormous stock of fur robes and rugs came from their plant in Michigan. Fur Trade Review, July 1, 1890 (copyright expired)

An advertisement that year warned retailers "Do NOT buy your Sleigh Robes or Skin Rugs until you see our line.  We are showing the largest line of 'Fur Rugs,' Sheepskin Mats and Goatskin Sleigh Robes we have ever shown."

The early 1890's saw an array of factories on the upper floors.  L. Livingston & Co. was here by 1893 making pocketbooks.  Its large workforce included 50 men, 30 boys under 21 years of age, 15 boys under 16, 3 women, and one girl under 21 years old.  Their workweek was 60 hours, not including weekends.

Smaller shops at the time were Jacob Gray, makers of suspenders; and Max Ludwig who employed just 6 men and a boy making "corset steels."

The Hopkins family still owned No. 81 in 1906 when Louise D. Hopkins leased it to the Raven Gloss Manufacturing Company.  The firm manufactured shoe polish and introduced its Cadet White that year--reflecting a new fashion trend in footwear.

On August 29, 1906 Boot and Shoe Recorder published an article entitled "Are White Shoes Being Worn by Everyone?" which began "One would think every man, woman and child in this country were wearing white canvas shoes from the enormous daily shipments of Cadet White from the factory of the Raven Gloss Company at 81 White street, New York City."

The firm had long produced its Button's Raven Gloss, which the magazine described as "a shoe dressing that has become famous, and is known to every buyer of shoes, that is whose who use shoe polish, and there are very few who do not use it."

In January 1919 the U. T. Hungerford Brass and Copper Co. purchased the building.   Despite its name, the firm dealt in a broad array of metals, including "German silver," bronze and aluminum.  Its headquarters, the 17-story Hallenbeck-Hungerford Building facing Lafayette Street, was just 50 feet to the east.

The Hungerford Building, which survives, was pictured on the firm's letterhead.

The new owners hired architect William E. Austin to improve the aging building and convert it for warehousing.  His plans, filed the following month, called for replacing the stairs with new "fireproof" versions, added an elevator, and replacing doors.  The renovations joined No. 81 internally with No. 79 and it was most likely at this time that the storefront was replaced with truck doors.

No. 81 and its next door neighbor were joined internally in 1919.

In 1927 Case Brass and Copper Company acquired the firm, including the White Street warehouse.  The firm remained in the building for decades.

In 1960 the combined buildings were purchased by William Abramowitz, head of the Concord Radio Corporation.  The New York Times reported he intended to use the building "for his other electronic enterprises."

Major change came to Nos. 79-81 in 2006 when a conversion resulted in two apartments per floor above street level.   By 2012 No. 81 was home to Space on White, a performance space for emerging artists.  It has since closed.

photographs by the author

The Lost H. O. Havemeyer Mansion -- No. 1 E. 66th Street

A pony cart travels north past the Havemeyer house.  The vine-covered house to the right, on 66th Street, was the General Grant home.  Looking like part of the Havemeyer mansion is the round-faced Oliver Payne home, to the left, at No. 852 5th Ave.  photo by  Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult&VBID=24UAYWO9LAKQ&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=894

Henry Osborne Havemeyer was the eighth of nine children born to Frederick Christian Havemeyer Jr. and Sarah Louise Henderson Havemeyer.  Feisty and strong-willed, his formal education came to an abrupt end at the age of 8 after he fought with the principal of Mr. Betts’ School in Stamford, Connecticut.  Henry’s lack of classroom instruction would not interfere with his business success—nor would his fiery nature.

The Havemeyer family business had evolved from a sugar bakery to a sugar refinery.  Henry’s brother, Theodore, partnered with his son-in-law, J. Lawrence Elder, in 1863 to form Havermeyers & Elder.  Henry joined the firm at the age of 15.  By 1876 Henry, known as H. O. Havemeyer, had become the principal in the mercantile side of the business.

In 1870 Henry married J. Lawrence Elder’s sister, Mary Louise (who went by her middle name).  It was a short, unhappy union that ended in divorce in 1882.  A year later he remarried--this time to his former wife’s niece, Louisine Waldron Elder, maintaining the family and business connection.  Henry and Louisine would have three children, Adaline, Horace and Electra.  In 1889, the year after Electra’s birth, the Havemeyers laid plans for a new home.

Henry Osborne Havemeyer, The Successful American, 1899 (copyright expired)

H. O. Havemeyer purchased the property at the northeast corner of Fifth Avenue and 66^th Street where lavish mansions had already begun rising.  Charles Coolidge Haight was commissioned to design the home which would be like none other on the avenue.  Construction began in the spring of 1889 and on June 8 the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide described Haight’s plans.

“It is to be three stories and attic in height and will have a frontage of 50.2 feet on the avenue and 115.2 on the street.  The elevation, as seen in the office of the architect, Chas. C. Haight, shows that it will be a very handsome and stately piece of domestic architecture in the modern French style.”

Haight chose Jonesboro granite for the façade rather than the more expected brownstone or limestone.  The structure was anchored by a massive corner turreted bay.  At a time when Manhattan’s millionaires were erecting fluffy Beaux Arts concoctions dripping with ornamentation; the Havemeyer chateau would be formal and stately—bordering on austere.

The first floor contained seven rooms, one running into the next “and capable of being thrown open en suite for reception purposes,” noted the Guide.  The foyer spanned a grand 26 by 30 feet, leading to the majestic staircase based on one in the Venetian Doge’s Palace.  Upstairs, on the second floor, were eight rooms and two bathrooms, and on the third were the picture gallery and studio (as well as “a number of rooms”).  Haight estimated the cost at $200,000—about $5.25 million today.

The picture gallery was not merely de rigueur in the design of 1890s mansions; it was a necessity for the Havemeyers.  Louisine had studied in Paris and was a close friend of Mary Cassatt.  Her taste in art matched her husband’s and they collected not only Old Masters, but modern paintings like those of Claude Monet.  Together they would assemble what some considered to be the finest private art collection in the United States—rivaling if not exceeding those of Henry Clay Frick and Isabella Stewart Gardner.  The library, for instance, became known as the Rembrandt Room in reference to its display of Old Masters.

If Haight’s exterior was meant to impress, the interiors were meant to astound.  Louis Comfort Tiffany partnered with Samuel Colman to decorate the rooms.   More than a century later the brochure “Louis Comfort Tiffany at the Metropolitan Museum” would say the pair was “given almost free reign and a seemingly unlimited budget.”  While Astors, Belmonts and Kahns were importing paneling, floors and ceilings from European palaces, the Havemeyers preferred to set Tiffany’s modern creativity loose.  According to the brochure, “Tiffany, drawing on his experience with church interiors, adapted mosaics to a domestic setting in [the] extraordinary commission.”

Tiffany designed electric chandeliers for the Music Room meant to mimick Queen Anne's Lace.  Louis Comfort Tiffany at the Metropolitan Museum brochure, 1998

Included in Tiffany’s and Colman’s interiors were iridescent glass-mosaic walls, Eastern-inspired lighting fixtures, and intricate filigree woodwork and balustrades.   Published for a Tiffany exhibition, the museum’s brochure said “The entrance-hall walls were completely sheathed in Tiffany’s glass mosaic in soft tones of gold, white, and pale green; the frieze of golden and iridescent blue scrolls was of Islamic derivation.  A pair of facing peacocks of shimmering mosaic surmounted the fireplace, and a metal filigree fire screen, encrusted with glass jewels, masked the opening.”

The Library, called the Rembrandt Room, had a silk-covered ceiling.   Louis Comfort Tiffany at the Metropolitan Museum brochure, 1998

The Music Room was decorated in Oriental style, with the walls covered in Japanese silks.  Here the Havemeyers’ collection of Asian art was displayed.   While the Library was decidedly masculine with Viking-like furnishings; the ceiling was covered in imported silk—a stark departure from the ornately carved or frescoed ceilings of neighboring mansions.

To the north of No. 1 East 66^th Street, Haight designed a 25-foot wide mansion “similar in every respect to the corner house from an architectural standpoint,” as described by The New York Times.  This house, No. 852 Fifth Avenue, was designed to appear as one more massive turret.  It became home to Oliver Payne.

As the neighborhood developed, millionaires were acutely sensitive about preserving its high-end residential nature.  They had witnessed the relentless northern invasion of commerce into the mansion district of Fifth Avenue below 59th Street and were resolute to prevent it here.   In February 1893 Havemeyer purchased the adjoining house on 66^th Street, owned by Mrs. U. S. Grant.  “It is understood that Mr. Havemeyer made the purchase in order to protect his own property from undesirable neighbors,” remarked The New York Times on February 25.  “He will let the Grant House, but the tenant will be some one of whom he thoroughly approves, and it will not be possible for anyone else to occupy the house.”

Although Henry O. Havemeyer had a gruff reputation (the New-York Tribune would describe him as “a rotund, explosive man, whose big fists were fond of banging the table at board meetings and who never tired of relating his grievances against the government”);  friends and even newspaper reporters knew that beneath the bluster was a sensitive, family-loving man with a superb sense of humor.

He was fond of telling the story of the day he and a colleague ate at an exclusive lunch club.  When he received poor service from a new waiter, Havemeyer said “If that’s your regular manner of serving, I don’t want you to wait on me.  Send another waiter.”

The waiter apologized and promised to improve.  Two courses later the Sugar King was less than impressed.  Soup had been slopped over the edge of the plate and the entre was “served in a jumble.”

The luncheon club prohibited tipping its staff; however Havemeyer withdrew a dollar bill, folded it, and placed it under his water glass where the waiter could not help seeing it.  Immediately the waiter’s attention to detail improved and his service was faultless.  After coffee was served Havemeyer said to the waiter, “You didn’t size me up for a tip, did you?”

“No, sir.”

“Expecting a tip, you are a better waiter,” continued Havemeyer.  “It is not so?”

“I would probably have been more careful, sir.  I’ll see that you’re treated right the next time.”

The millionaire replied, “I hope you will, because if you don’t I’ll have you discharged at once.”  And then he pulled the dollar bill from under the glass and put it in his pocket.

Another story H. O. Havemeyer repeated reflected both his sense of humor and his thoughts about ingenuous religious practices.  The New-York Tribune wrote “He told of a young girl who a week or so after Christmas complained bitterly to her mother:

‘Mamma, I doubt if I shall be happy with George.  I fear he is of a deceptive nature.’

’Why, darling, what do you mean?’ the mother asked.

‘Well, mamma,’ said the young girl earnestly, ‘ you know that collar pin he gave me for Christmas?  He swore to me that he paid $25 for it, but to-day I saw its exact counterpart priced at $5 at a jeweller’s.’

‘Ah, but, my child,’ said the mother, ‘you must remember how very religious George is.  Undoubtedly he bought the pin at a church fair.’”

The Havemeyer mansion’s location directly across from Central Park made for convenient walks or rides in the summer, and sleighing in the winter.  One excursion that Henry and Louisine took in 1894 nearly ended in tragedy.

Around 4 p.m. on February 17, 1894, according to The New York Times, “Mr. Havemeyer had his handsome cutter brought to his door at 1 East Sixty-sixth Street, and ten minutes later he and Mrs. Havemeyer were scudding up through Central Park.”

The horse-drawn sleigh left Central Park at 110^th Street and continued northward.  Just before they reached 128^th Street and Lenox Avenue, a group of boys engaged in a snowball fight spooked the horse tethered to Frank Powers’s empty sleigh.  The panicked horse bolted west, pulling the sleigh on a collision course with the Havemeyer cutter.

“The runaway was tearing across town at a terrific rate, and when the collision came buffalo robes, cushions, and splinters of wood flew in all directions.  Mrs. Havemeyer was thrown heavily to the frozen ground, and sustained an ugly scalp wound, as well as some bruises about the body.”

Henry was also thrown from the vehicle; but he escaped unharmed.  The newspaper said “He retained a firm hold on the reins of his horse, and stopped him after being dragged along the street for half a block.”

Frank Powers had been on his way down the steps of his house when his horse bolted.  He arrived at the scene of the collision and called a cab to take the Havemeyers home.  Once there Louisine improved; but news of the accident spread quickly among society and the press alike.

“Mrs. Havemeyer had suffered a nervous shock, but had entirely recovered when a reporter for The New-York Times called at the house yesterday afternoon.  Many friends of the family called yesterday to inquire after Mrs. Havemeyer.”

 

photo by Wurts Bros., from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult&VBID=24UAYWOGF7R6&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=894

Neither Henry nor Louisine was especially active in society; preferring to live more quietly at home.  But two growing daughters demanded proper entertainments.  On New Year’s Day 1900 they hosted a dinner and theater party for teen-aged Adaline and her young friends.  Following dinner at the mansion, the group went to the Knickerbocker Theatre to see “The Cowboy and the Lady.”   Five years later Adaline turned 21 years old and her debut prompted the expected entertainments.  On Christmas Eve that year Louisine gave a large dance in the house.

One can only imagine the reception Adaline received from her father five months later after her arrest for speeding.  On May 7, 1906 she and a friend were in an automobile driven by chauffeur Achille Jaciard in Harrison, New York.   Policeman Campion timed the machine traveling at “the rate of sixteen miles per hour.”

It was often the owner of the car, and not the driver, who was held responsible for a speeding automobile and Adaline was brought before Justice Branegan.   The New York Times reported that the judge said “that because of the many machines tearing through the streets at dangerous speed he would impose a fine of $20.”  The hefty penalty would be in the neighborhood of $535 today.

“Oh, what shall I do?” exclaimed the recent debutante.  “I have not $20 with me.”  The Times reported that as she began to remove a ring from her finger for security, a man standing near paid the $20.  “The young woman thanked him and promised to repay the amount as soon as she reached home.”

The following year was Electra’s turn to be introduced to society and on January 18, 1907 Louisine gave a coming-out ball.  The Sun made a passing comment about the tardiness of the event.  “Miss Havemeyer is one of the few debutantes who has as yet only had a coming out tea.”

With Electra’s debut, the year started out with joyous entertaining.   The Times called the ball “one of the largest fashionable functions of the season.  Two hundred guests arrived for dinner and another 100 came later for the cotillion.

Directly below The New York Times recap of the ball was an article concerning Louisine’s series of Sunday afternoon musicales (from 75 to 100 invitations would be going out for each one), and below that was an article on Adaline’s upcoming wedding set for February 7 in St. Thomas Church.  The year 1907, however, would end not in joy but in grief.

The Havemeyers maintained a residence in Connecticut and a 300-acre country estate on Long Island.  On Wednesday November 27 they traveled to Merrivale Stock Farm, at Northport, Long Island for Thanksgiving .   The New-York Tribune said it “was a favorite retreat of his when in need of rest and seclusion…The house on the place is a small stone lodge, unpretentious on the outside, but handsomely furnished.  It was always kept ready for his visits.” 

After dinner that night Henry and his son, Horace, went for a walk.  Henry complained of not feeling will and later Dr. William H. Ross of Brentwood, Long Island was called in for what was believed to be acute indigestion.  When his condition worsened.  Three doctors from Manhattan rushed to his bedside.

On December 3 the New-York Tribune reported that “Henry O. Havemeyer is in critical condition at his country home…suffering from acute indigestion.  At his house late last night it was said that he was very ill.  Members of the family, who have been summoned, reached Northport early last evening.”  One of the doctors told a reporter that, because of the millionaire’s age, “he feared he would not recover.”

Indeed, two days later the newspaper announced “Death came to Henry O. Havemeyer this afternoon at Merrivale Stock Farm, his country home.”

On Saturday morning, December 7, 1907 funeral services for Havemeyer were held in the 66^th Street mansion.  The Sugar King’s estate was estimated, according to the Inter Ocean of Chicago “at from $15,000,000 to $25,000,000.”  Despite his generous donations throughout his lifetime, there were no bequests to any institutions or charities; the estate was divided among the family.

Louisine received the Long Island home, the 66^th Street mansion “with the notable art collection it contains,” and an annuity of $50,000.  The house (deemed by The New York Times to be “a small art museum”) was valued upon settlement of the estate at $937,500.

Louisine, Electra and Horace continued to live at No. 1 66^th Street.  Then, on December 12, 1909 Louisine announced Electra’s engagement to James Watson Webb.  It was, socially, a particularly notable match.  Web’s sterling lineage was laid out by The New York Times in the announcement:

“Mr. Webb’s mother was Miss Lila Osgood Vanderbilt, a daughter of the late William H. Vanderbilt.  He is a nephew of Mrs. H. McK. Twombly and Mrs. William Douglas Sloane, and a cousin of W. K. Vanderbilt, Jr., and of Alfred, Cornelius, and Reginald Vanderbilt; also of Mrs. James Henry Hammond, Mrs. James A. Burden, and Mrs. W. B. Osgood Field, and of Mrs. Williams A. Burden and Miss Twombly.  Mrs. Ralph Pulitzer is his sister and W. S. Webb, Jr., and Vanderbilt Webb are his brothers.”

At the time of the Fifth Avenue wedding New York was plagued with social unrest by Socialists, and anarchist groups like The Black Hand terrorized wealthy citizens and businesses with assassinations and bombings—real or threatened.   Two months after Electra's engagement, the terror would visit Louisine Havemeyer.

During the second week of February 1910 a letter was dropped off at the mansion, addressed to Mrs. Havemeyer.  The letter read in part:

“We demand $2,500 as a Black Hand organization.  If not paid will blow up your house and all your family.  We have 488 members scattered all over the world.  You cannot escape us.  Don’t let the police know of this, or any one else, for we will not let up on you if you offer us $100,000.  Rich people pay our demands, and they have no more bother, and we protect them.  Do as we ask or we will blow up your house and destroy every one in it with revolver or dagger, or send them poisoned food.”

The letter instructed Louisine to deposit 25 $100 bills in a tin box and place it behind the stone wall of Central Park, directly across from the Havemeyer house.  Despite the warnings, she immediately called Police Headquarters and read the letter over the telephone. 

Detectives instructed Louisine to place a single dollar bill in a tin box and place it under dry leaves, as the letter instructed.  “There will be several detectives watching you at all times, and not from the instant you leave your house till you return to it will you be in danger,” she was assured by Detective Boyle.

Just before 9:00 on the night of February 24, 1910 the plucky socialite stepped from her granite mansion, crossed Fifth Avenue, and entered the Park.   Three plain clothed detectives watched as she covered the box with leaves, then returned to her home.  “It was some minutes after 9 o’clock before they were rewarded by seeing two boys walk down Fifth Avenue and poke beneath the leaves,” reported The New York Times the following day.  “Finally the larger boy came upon the box and together the youngsters started off up Fifth Avenue.”

George Stahl, 13 years old, and Samuel Williams, only 9, had tried to pull a scam on one of Manhattan’s wealthiest women.  Despite their youth, the boys were arrested and spent the night in the Children’s Society.  “To-day Mrs. Havemeyer herself will appear against them in the Children’s Court, for although the affair proved to have been the mischievous work of youngsters, the receipt of the letter gave Mrs. Havemeyer many uneasy moments.”

The following year Horace married Doris A. Dick, leaving Louisine alone in the cavernous stone mansion.   She soon turned her attention to women’s social issues; becoming one of America’s staunchest feminist activists.   In 1913 she founded the National Woman’s Party and the mansion became the regular venue for its meetings.  When the “Blanket Bill of Rights” failed to pass the Legislature in 1922, Louisine Havemeyer called another meeting.

“The New York City branch of the National Woman’s Party…met yesterday afternoon at the home of Mrs. H. O. Havemeyer, 1 East Sixty-Sixth Street, to plan the new campaign.  The women will devote the summer and fall to campaigning and will introduce their bill again in the next session of the Legislature,” reported the New-York Tribune on March 21.  The newspaper added “In accordance with their demand for full equality of men and women, the Woman’s Party members took exception to the alleged inequality of treatment accorded employees of many Federal departments.”

Reportedly, Louisine’s three children were somewhat appalled at their mother’s public activism.  She marched on Fifth Avenue, addressed an audience at Carnegie Hall, picketed the White House and was present at the National Suffrage Parade which erupted into a riot on the night before Woodrow Wilson’s inauguration.  Jailed for obstructing traffic, she went on a hunger strike.  The high visibility of Mrs. H. O. Havemeyer’s name linked with such ardent protests was highly responsible for the pressure felt by the Congress and Wilson’s administration.  Following her release from prison she and 25 other suffragists who had also been arrested toured the country on a train called “The Prison Special.”

The Suffragist published the above photograph on March 22, 1919.  Its caption read "Policeman in Syracuse welcoming Mrs. Henry O. Havemeyer and Miss Vida Milholland on arrival of Prison Special"  (copyright expired)

In a situation eerily similar to Henry O. Havemeyer’s demise, Louisine began feeling ill on Thanksgiving Day 1928.  The condition of the 66-year old failed steadily until her death of heart disease on January 6, 1929. 

In reporting on her death, The New York Times mentioned just a few of the artworks that hung within the mansion.  “Mrs. Havemeyer’s collection of paintings includes eight Rembrandts, three of them magnificent examples, the famous portrait of Herman Doormer, known as ‘The Gilder,’ and two portraits, a man and a woman, known together as ‘The Berestyn Family.’  Also in the Havemeyer gallery are about a dozen Manets, including ‘The Young Man as a Torero,’ ‘The Matador,’ and ‘The Spanish Woman,’ and works of the Impressionist school and of Italian masters.”

Within the year The New York Times ran an article that spoke of the loss of so many of Fifth Avenue’s grand palaces.   But the article, entitled “Fifth Avenue’s Private Home Row Giving Way to More Apartments,” was not lamenting; it praised the development of high-class apartment buildings at the cost of old-fashioned mansions.  “The high character of the improvements completed and projected on Fifth Avenue assures its continuance as the finest residential street in the world.”

Seven months later, on July 30, 1930, the newspaper announced that the Havemeyer mansion, “where the famous Havemeyer art collection was housed before it was presented by the family to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, has been leased, it was learned yesterday, and the residence will soon be torn down.”

Along with No. 1 East 66^th Street the deal included the matching mansion, No. 852 Fifth Avenue, where Electra and her family now lived; and No. 853 Fifth Avenue next door, the home of Horace’s family.

photo cityrealty.com

The massive apartment building that replaced the houses forewent the tantalizing Fifth Avenue address; preferring to use No. 1 East 66^th Street; long synonymous with art, culture, wealth and position.