The Gottlieb Building - 32 East 58th Street (611 Madison Avenue)

 

In 1875, as the city expanded further northward in the post-Civil War years, builder and real estate developer Linus Scudder erected a row of five upscale brownstone-faced residences on the southeast corner of 58th Street and Madison Avenue.  Because of its corner location, 32 East 58th Street was the plum property with an extra wall of light and ventilation.  Four stories tall above a high English basement, its high-stooped design was, most likely, similar to other Italianate residences being erected throughout the city.

It became home to the William H. Falconer family.  Born in New York City in 1831, Falconer had an impressive American pedigree.  He was descended from Pierre Fauconier, who arrived in New York in 1705 as secretary to Lords Bellemont and Cornberry, Colonial Governors of New York.  His great-grandfather, John Falconier, was a captain on George Washington's staff.

Falconer had been in the real estate business since 1853.  On June 19, 1873, he married Margaret C. McLean (the certificate of marriage read "Maggie").  His 31-year-old bride was his third wife.  A son, Bruce McLean Falconer, would be born in 1880.

Although the neighborhood in general was still exclusive--Cornelius Vanderbilt had begun construction of his magnificent mansion a block to the west in 1878--at the time of the baby's birth, Madison Avenue was changing.  Already, shops were slowly invading the wide avenue.  

No. 32 East 58th Street was sold in November 1881.  The purchaser, Dora Reid, did not remain especially long.  On April 23, 1885, an advertisement in the New York Evening Post announced that the house would be sold at action, describing the...

...handsome 4-story high-stoop brown-stone dwelling...finely decorated, every modern improvement, handsome chandeliers, gas fixtures, fine pier mirrors, and cornices go with the house.

(The "cornices" were the decorative coverings, often gilded, from behind which the window draperies hung.)

W. B. Reid paid $29,000 at the auction, or about $911,000 in 2023 terms.  By 1888 the residence was being operated as a high-end boarding house.  Two advertisements in 1888 offered:

A handsome second floor, excellent board.  Jewish family.  32 East 58th st., corner Madison av.

Beautiful back parlor and other rooms, excellent board.  32 East 58th st., corner Madison av.

Commerce finally arrived at 32 East 58th Street in 1890 when the basement level was leased to a society dressmaker, Mademoiselle Bangnos.  On December 15 that year she advertised for "Waist Hands--Wanted, first-class waist hands."  

Albert I. Sire purchased 32 East 58th Street in March 1892.  The property values along Madison Avenue had skyrocketed by now.  The $45,000 he paid would translate to just under $1.5 million today.  He was the first to make significant alterations to the structure, removing the stoop and converting the upper floors to a "five-story brick flat," as described by The New York Times.

The store continued to house a women's apparel shop through, at least, 1897.  That year J. Juran advertised, "Tailors wanted--first class tailors only, on ladies' jackets and waists."

At the turn of the century, the florist shop of Owen McDonald occupied the space.  Necessary to the lavish decors of well-to-do New Yorkers at the time were palms and ferns.  On December 2, 1902, P. McDonald (presumably a son of Owen) was making deliveries when he became an innocent victim of a runaway horse.  The New York Times reported, "A delivery horse of Arnold, Constable & Co. was left unhitched at Thirty-fourth Street and Fifth Avenue...and ran away toward Broadway."  At the corner of Sixth Avenue, it knocked down 19-year-old Nellie Keegan, then galloped across Broadway onto the sidewalk.  "It broke the $500 plateglass window in the tobacco shop of Charles Schlesinger, and before it left the sidewalk ran over Henry Ward."

Owen's wagon was directly in the path of the panicked animal.  It "dashed against" the wagon, said the article, "with an assortment of potted plants."  Owen was thrown to the pavement, but unlike Nellie Keegan and Henry Ward, he was not severely injured.

On March 1, 1906, Albert I. Sire leased the florist shop to Myer (often spelled Meyer) Gotlieb for a term of five-and-a-half years.  As it turned out, Gotlieb's residency would be much longer.  

In 1910 Gotlieb received two permits from the city, one to "place a drop awning" over the entrance, and the other to "to place and keep a storm door."  That year, the four other houses along Linus Scudder's 1875 row were combined by the architectural firm of Hooper & Greene and given a neo-Federal front.  The transformation may have inspired Gotlieb.  In May 1914, he purchased 32 East 58th Street.  One month later, the Record & Guide reported that he had hired the architectural firm of Gronenberg & Leuchtag to do $10,000 in sweeping renovations. 

Perhaps inspired by Frederick Junius Sterner, who was transforming outdated brownstones into Mediterranean fantasies, the architects gave the building a thick coating of stucco, added romantic pseudo-balconies with red clay tile roofs, and inset classical plaques into facade (the drawings identify them as marble).  Gotlieb's florist store received a plate glass front and round bronze marquee over the corner entrance.  An artist's studio was erected on the roof, with vast, slanted windows that admitted northern light.

photo by Wurts Brothers from the collection of the New York Public Library.

Myer Gotlieb moved his family into an apartment above the store.  Living with him and his wife Sadie Vera, were their daughter Sadie and her husband Maximilian Stark.  The family had a live-in Irish maid.  On October 3, 1915, Raymond Otto Stark was born in the apartment.  Ray Stark would grow up to be one of the most renowned film producers and talent agents of the 20th century.

Occupying the rooftop studio was British-born artist Marguerite Kirmse.  The New York Herald remarked on March 15, 1915 that she "has been established here five years" and had "become known as a painter of animals, particularly dogs."  In April that year, with the outbreak of war in Europe,  her sister Elizabeth Persis Esperance Kirmse arrived from Paris and moved in with Marguerite.  She, too, was well-known for her animal paintings.

Marguerite Kirmse's The Hound

The article described the artists' studio, making special note of "a window extending the whole length of the north side," and adding, "The walls and a couple of easels held paintings of dogs and horses."  The Kirmse sisters were not fly-by-night pet portrait artists.  The article said, "Among the dogs which Miss Persis Kirmse has painted are Baron Zuylen's Italian Lupino, Princess Vasailiska's chien loup Prince, Princess Murat's Boston bull Rummy, Prince Duleep Singh's Bibs, Marshesa Pieri Nerli's Borzoi Boris, Lady Alabaster's collie Ming and a Pekingese and French bulldog for the Duca and Duchessa du Camastra."  Marguerite Kirmse's patrons were no less impressive.

On February 10, 1916, the Musical Courier reported, "Richard Epstein, who has been touring the United States this season with Geraldine Farrar, announces his removal to 32 East Fifty-eighth street, New York."  Born in 1869 in Zagreb, then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Epstein's father Julius had also been an esteemed musician and professor of piano at the Vienna Conservatory.  (Richard, too, would teach piano at the Vienna Conservatory before beginning his concert career.

New-York Tribune, October 15, 1916 (copyright expired)

Living here in 1919 was Clara Dorores Machain Lopp, described by the New York Herald as "a wealthy South American."  Mrs. Lopp had married Joaquin J. Cueto of Buenos Aires in 1887, with whom she had a daughter, Sophia Cueto.  Just before the turn of the century, deciding that Sophia should have a Parisian education, she left Cueto behind and moved to France with her daughter.  Included in Sophia's curriculum were dance lessons, taught by George Washington Lopp.

When Clara and Sophia relocated to New York City, Lopp followed "and began to woo her ardently," as reported by the New York Herald.  According to the article, Clara asserted, "One afternoon he invited her to the law office of [Daniel] O'Reilly, and when she arrived there with her daughter, Sophia, he and the lawyer announced that they had instituted a suit for divorce against Mr. Cueto, who had been served with the papers in this city, and that after a trial Justice Page had granted her a decree."  

O'Reilly produced what he explained was the judicial order dissolving the marriage.  George Lopp told her it ordered that "the expenses should be paid by the woman."  The New York Herald related, "Not being able to speak, read or write English, Mrs. Lopp states, she was easily duped into believing the two men."  Clara paid O'Reilly $2,000 for his services, and that same day and she and Lopp were married.

The three returned to Paris where Clara took out an eight-year lease on an apartment on the Rue la Boetie.  Lopp added to the household by bringing along his two teenaged daughters.  Now in 1919, according to Clara, not only had she "paid all of the bills for maintaining the household and supported Lopp's two daughters," but "his attitude toward her was one of cruelty."  The breaking point came in May 1918 when Clara discovered that the "divorce" was a sham, as was her marriage.

She moved to New York and into 32 East 58th Street.  On October 8, 1919, she recounted her ordeal before Justice Hendricks of the State Supreme Court.  The New York Herald reported, "Upon the statement of Mrs. Lopp that the dancing teacher is still occupying the Paris home, Justice Hendricks signed an order permitting service of the paper in the annulment action by mail."

Under the coat of beige paint, according to Gronenberg & Leuchtag's plans, the plaques of ancient charioteers and warriors are marble.

In the spring of 1922, the neighborhood had been terrorized by a slippery cat burglar.  The New York Herald explained that the nickname "The Phantom Burglar," was "the fancy cognomen being due to the celerity with which the individual loses himself after looting."  On the night of April 12, one of the female residents of 32 East 58th Street "heard a crunching sound" at the street door and "phoned to the apartments of Dr. Ralph Kramer and Archibald Speyer."  She had chosen the right neighbors to notify.

"The doctor sallied forth with an automatic, while Speyer grabbed a Winchester," said the article.  "They tiptoed to the door and waited until the door burst open."

Dr. Kramer demanded, "Hands up, and be quick about it!"

The burglar, William Fonner, raise his hands, but insisted it was all a mistake.  "I came here to see a doctor." 

Kramer responded, "That's all right, you're seeing one now."

Patrolman Keller arrived and arrested the 31-year-old.  He was identified in a "crooks' lineup" the following morning.  "The police produced a record of arrests for crimes which they say belongs to Fonner," reported the New York Herald.

Five months after the attempted break-in, Richard Epstein died at the Lenox Hill Hospital.  Still a native of Austria, he left an estate of $11,723.63 (about a quarter of a million in today's dollars).   His widow, Elisabeth and two children, all of whom lived in Vienna, shared equally in his estate, since he left no will.

In 1928 Meyer Gotlieb again renovated the building.  He hired architect Joseph D. Weiss to transform the artist studio to a two-story penthouse.   The northern bay was removed to provide a balcony for the somewhat boxy new residential space.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The Gotlieb flower shop left in 1937, the year that Franz and Klaus Perls opened a branch of their European art gallery in the space.  The Perls Gallery would exhibit the works of contemporary French artists for years.  In December 1938, for example, an exhibition opened which The Sun described as containing "a number of examples of, for the most part, well known French artists of the day."  Included were works by Charles Dufresne, Olga Scharaoff, Jean Eve, Camille Bourbois, Jean Dufy, Laurincin, Maurice Utrillo, and others.  The gallery survived at least through 1944, followed by Galerie Herve of Paris, and the Griffin Gallery in the 1960s.  

A colorful resident of 32 East 58th Street, here by the late 1950s, was Nicholas Alexander de Transehe.  Born in Russia in 1887, he had served as a czarist naval officer.  He relocated to New York city in 1923 and three years later helped Admiral Richard E. Byrd plot his transpolar flight.  Following World War II, De Transehe worked for the C.I.A. as a Soviet expert.  As if his resume were not impressive enough, he was also an inventor.  He died of cancer of the liver on January 6, 1961 while still living here.

For more than a decade beginning in 1993, the former Gotlieb florist shop space was home to Agatha, a jewelry store.  At some point the first and second floors were refaced and the store space broken into three.

The end of the line for the building seemed to be near on April 16, 2014 when The Real Deal reported, "A new round of permits are on file for 611 Madison, where a new structure will soon replace an existing seven-story townhouse."  The article noted, "No projected completion date has been announced as of yet, a demolition date has not been nailed down and renderings have yet to surface."

At least for now, the quirky and somewhat charming survivor hangs on.

photographs by the author

many thanks to historian Anthony Bellov for prompting this post

no permission to reuse the content of this blog has been granted to LaptrinhX.com 

Country Charm Amid Bridge Traffic -- No. 313 East 58th Street

In the 18th century the area near the East River around what would become 58th Street was lonely.  Travelers using the Eastern Post Road could stop at the inn called The Union Flag (the name of which referred, of course, to the British colors, not the later American union).  The tavern sat approximately where the approach to the Queensboro Bridge is today.

But the decade prior to the Civil War saw the beginnings of development as streets were laid out and building plots sold.  In 1856 builder and mason Hiram G. Disbrow began construction on his own modest home at what would later be numbered 313 East 58th Street.  Simultaneously Charles Shute Pell erected a similar house on the lot next door.

Disbrow's home was completed in 1857.   He had no doubt acted as his own architect and the two-story tall structure made no attempts at ostentation.  Described as "vernacular" in style today, it exhibited some elements of the Greek Revival style in the doorway and bracketed cornice, for instance.  The parlor openings were, in fact, French doors.  They were less practical as access to the wooden porch than for adding ventilation into the house during hot summer months.

Disbrow was a partner with George Whitefield in the building firm of Disbrow & Whitefield.  A daughter, Emma, was born to him and his wife, Catherine on February 20, 1860.  By the time the toddler tragically died on March 30, 1862, the family had moved to No. 165 East 50th Street.

An interesting side note is that in 1899 the aging Hiram G. Disbrow patented an invention far afield from the building business.  His "reversible tie" was described as having "sides of different color or material."  For the price of one tie, the customer would get two.

In the mid-1890s James Jordan, "dealer in window-shades, and carpets, &c." lived in No. 313.  His next door neighbor, at No. 311, was the Prussian-born merchant Mathias Down.  Down had owned that house since 1877 and now his grandson, Herman Weiden, lived there as well.

Down died before 1920 and at some point Weiden purchased No. 311 as well.   By now not only had apartment buildings closed in around the houses; but the massive Queensboro Bridge had wiped out much of the old neighborhood.  Its approach was mere yards from the properties.

The end of the line for the quaint anachronisms seemed near in April 1928.  On April 28 real estate operator and builder Milton Barkin, of Samuel Barkin & Sons, purchased Nos. 311 and 313 "from the Weiden estate," as reported in the newspapers (Herman Weiden was, incidentally, very much alive).  The New York Times reported on September 13 the firm's intention to build "a nine-story apartment house at 311-313 East Fifty-eighth Street."

The two 1857 houses as they appeared in March 1928.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

But something happened with the ambitious project.  The Weidens never relinquished title to No. 311 and No. 313 was purchased as the headquarters for the Humane Society of New York.   Mae Colbert Liotta, executive secretary and assistant to the president of the Society, lived in the upper portion of the house with her widowed mother, Margaret Colbert. 

Large fund raising events for the Humane Society of New York rarely took place from the house (the benefit dinner and dance at the Waldorf-Astoria in 1935, for instance, lured patrons with names like Morgan, Dodge, Armour, and Roosevelt).  But it was the scene of one especially anticipated annual event--the Christmas party for children and their pets.

The event was no small affair, especially for pets and children.  On December 25, 1935 The New York Times reported "The party, which lasted an hour and a half, got underway with the playing of marches by members of the Kips Bay Boy Scouts, Troop 472, whose bugles and drums attracted a crowd to the Christmas tree erected at the front door of the society's building.

"Pets were brought in their best regalia, some with yellow ribbons and furbished leather harness.  One woman carried her cat in a crate usually used to ship oranges."

One man that year even brought his two white mice.  The Santa Claus was ready for more expected pets like dogs and cats, and his sack was filled with gifts of collars, blankets, leashes and food.  The mice sent workers scurrying.  "They received pieces of cheese and crackers," said the article.

A second Santa suit, right down to the long white beard, was worn by Paddy Reilly who made a special appearance.  He was the mascot terrier of the Society and lived in the house.  He received two loving cups during that event.  One was for saving the life of a woman in Jamaica Bay.  He barked until a passing boater heard him and plucked her from the water.  The other was from "an admirer" who was impressed with Paddy's help in raising $3,600 that year.   He routinely strolled the city streets with a money cup on his back "seeking aid for dumb animals," as described by The Times.

Two years later Paddy Reilly would add a special honor to his growing collection of medals "for his bravery and devotion."   Artist Helen Stotesbury visited the 58th Street headquarters where the terrier sat for his oil portrait.  Stotesbury was the daughter of Brigadier General Louis W. Stotesbury, president of the Humane Society.  She proclaimed Paddy "the best subject she ever had."  The portrait was sold to benefit the organization at the dog's 17th birthday party the following week.

A woman approaches the porch with her dog.  Those who could not afford to pay a veterinarian were welcome at the Society's free clinic.  photo via http://www.humanesocietyny.org

Margaret Colbert died on October 22, 1938.  As had been the practice in the house in the 19th century, her funeral was held here several days later.


Mae Colbert Liotta continued to live on the second floor.  She threw herself into the Society's work, organizing and heading its street displays, free clinic, courses in animal care and other activities.  On December 13, 1943, for instance, she announced through the newspapers that anyone who called at the 58th Street house that day with a horse and wagon would be given a free horse blanket.

Exactly one week later Mae was working on the upcoming Christmas Party at her desk when she was seized with a heart attack.  She died later that afternoon at Flower Fifth Avenue Hospital at the age of 53.

The Humane Society of New York continued to operate from the house for three more decades.  In 1952 when the State passed the Metcalf-Hatch Animal Research Bill, authorizing the "turning over of stray dogs and cats to laboratories and institutions for experiments," it was the scene of dissent.  The New York Times reported on February 13 "The 100-year old green-and-white clapboard cottage at 313 East Fifty-eighth Street, housing the Humane Society of New York was the scene of a protest meeting yesterday."

The Humane Society of New York moved to its new headquarters in 1974.  The East 58th Street building was purchased by Paul Steindler and his wife, Aja.  Steindler had fled his native Czechoslovakia during the 1945 Communist takeover.  He was at that time an Olympic wrestler and Aja was the world ice skating champion.  By now the couple had given up athletics to become restaurateurs.

Thankfully, No. 313 had been named a New York City landmark in 1970.  While designation did not protect the interior details, it safeguarded the exterior. 

The New York Times food critic Craig Claiborne explained on September 8, 1976 "[Steindler] has gutted the building and excavated a basement.  When it is transformed into a restaurant, tentatively named Paul's Landmark, it will have an inner dining room with a seating capacity of 85, plus a patio."

Considering using the word "landmark" in the name was ironic since Steindler wiped out the interior architectural history of the structure.  Instead, the restaurant was named The Czech Pavillion.  A 1979 advertisement touted "Classic Czech cooking...Charming...Townhouse Atmosphere" and offered "Enjoy piano music of the Old World nightly in the Skylight Room."

Although the building was still owned by the Steindlers, in 1981 The Czech Pavillion became Le Club, described by a newspaper as "the disco for New York's power elite."  In 1989 the club's director, Patrick Shield reminded a New York Magazine reporter that "party animals like F. Ross Johnson, Donald Trump, Ronald O. Perelman, Henry Kravis, and Saul Steinberg" haunted Le Club "three and four nights a week, with the most magnificent girls.  They were swinging."

When Le Club moved out late in 1996, Aja Steindler (Paul had died in 1983) leased the house to Rocco Ancarola, owner of Cafe Boom in Soho.  He announced plans to open a new restaurant, Two Rooms, with a formal dining room on the ground floor and cafe and lounge on the second.  That project lasted only until spring of 1999.

Now it became The Landmark Club, "a restaurant, not a club."  The owner, Shamsher Wadud who also operated the restaurant Nirvana, was quick to point out to food critic Florence Fabricant "Only the exterior of the building, built in the 1850s as a residence, is a city landmark."

Finally, in 2010 artist John Ransom Phillips purchased the 154-year old house as his residence and studio for around $4.7 million.  Ironically it was the absence of the 19th century interior elements that attracted him.   Joyce Cohen, writing in The New York Times on November 19, 2010 explained "When Mr. Phillips saw the former dance floor, with two skylights--one of them with 16 glass panels in a vaulted ceiling--he began to see possibilities."

In 1970 Adolf K. Placzek of the Columbia University's Avery Arrchitectural Library perfectly described Hiram G. Disbrow's charming residence as "a little gem of human proportion."  Against all odds it, along with the Pell house next door, survives on the busy street, mostly ignored by the motorists intent on accessing the Queensboro Bridge. 

photographs by the author

The Abijah Pell House - 311 East 58th Street

Abijah Pell, Jr. was born in New York City on November 8, 1811.   His was an important family, tracing its roots in America to the 17th century.  John Pell inherited the Pelham estate from his uncle, Thomas Pell, in 1670, and became the first lord of Pelham Manor.

Abijah's parents, Abijah and Mary Baldwin Pell, owned considerable land in Greenwich Village and when the elder Abijah died in 1826 his seven children--five sons and a daughter--shared equally in the sizable estate.

In the decade before the outbreak of Civil War spotty development was taking place along East 58th Street near the East River; until only recently green farmland.  Tax records indicate a house appeared by 1857 at what could be numbered 311 East 58th Street, when title to the property was in name of Charles Shute Pell.

It does not appear that Charles ever lived in the quaint brick-faced house.  He and his wife, both educators, were appointed superintendents of the New-York Orphan Asylum by 1857 and as such would have living quarters there.

Instead his brother, Abijah, listed his address as "East 58th near 2nd" in the early 1860s.   As a matter of fact, it may have been Abijah who constructed the house.  He was described as "a leading builder of his day" by The Memorial Cyclopedia decades later.  Pell was married to Eliza Brown Ward.  She was the first cousin of New Jersey Governor Marcus Ward.  The couple had three sons, Abijah, William and Charles.

Despite their lofty pedigree, the extended Pell family was apparently well in tune with the condition of the less fortunate.  Both Charles and Abijah were long-term members of The New York Association for the Improvement of the Condition of the Poor, for instance.  Nevertheless, they moved socially among their peers.  All the Pell brothers were members of the venerable St. Nicholas Society which included only men descended from New York's earliest families.

When Abijah's 48-year old brother, Aaron, died on November 8, 1861 of consumption, his funeral was held in the 58th Street house two days later.

Abijah had joined the Union Army only a month earlier.  When a comrade, John R. Hobby, died "of disease contracted in the army," on October 20, 1865, once again a funeral was held in the Pells' parlor.  The notice instructed mourners it was "second house east of 2d-av."

In the spring of 1870 the Park Commissioners directed the North and East River Company and the Central Park Railroad Company to lay "double tracks in Fifty-eighth-street."  The intention was to provide a crosstown connection between the First Avenue and Eleventh Avenue streetcars.  Local protest was quick and forceful, with Abijah Pell leading the charge.

On May 7 "a large number of property-owners" met at the Terrace Garden, on 58th Street near Third Avenue.  The New York Times reported they gathered "for the purpose of protesting against the laying of a track for a horse-car railroad in that street." 

Abijah Pell presided that evening.  Among the results of the meeting was the formation of a committee to raise funds for an expected legal battle.

Three years later Abijah Pell died in a bizarre and tragic accident in Newark, New Jersey.  On Saturday morning, April 19, 1873, was run over by the "pusher," or engine used to move train cars.  He died the following day.

The 58th Street house was sold to John B. Huse and his wife, Emma.  Huse was a printer with a shop on Hudson Street.  He also apparently dabbled in real estate.  In September 1873 he advertised "A store to let on Seventh Avenue--inquire at 311 East Fifty-eighth street, or in confectionery, No. 9 Seventh avenue."   Huse was adamant that his property would not be used as a saloon.  His ad stressed "will not be rented for liquor store."

On September 1, 1877 Huse sold the "two-story brick dwelling" to Henry S. Cohn for $8,000--just under $190,000 today.   Cohn flipped the house for a tidy profit, selling it four weeks later, on October 5, to Mathias Down for $10,000.

Although the Prussian-born Down was listed as a merchant, his main income most likely came from the several tenements he owned throughout the city.   In February 1890 he commissioned architect Charles Stagmeyer to add a two-story extension to the rear at a cost of $1,500.  The enlargement may have had to do with Down's grandson, Mathias Herman J. Weiden's moving in.  Both Down and Weiden were listed in the house in the 1890s.

Weiden (who went by the name Herman) and his wife, Margaret, had one child, Josephine, who was born in 1906.  He was active in New York's German community and served on the Executive Committee of the National Federation of German-American Catholics during the World War I years.  Despite anti-German sentiments during the war, it often went by the name of the Catholic Central Verein of America.  Weiden would remain an active member through the 1950s.

It appears that Margaret had died by 1920 when only Weiden and Josephine were listed as living in the 58th Street house.   His marriage on Wednesday, February 15, 1928 was marred by tragedy when Catherine McMurray, his new mother-in-law, died two days later in her Brooklyn home.

In 1928, the year Weiden remarried, the house looked little different than it does today.  photograph from the collection of the New York Public Library

On December 30, 1950 The New York Times reported "After seventy-three years in the family of Mathias Weiden, the two story brick dwelling...at 311 East Fifty-eighth Street has been purchased by Charles Jones, music composer, for occupancy."

The musician moved in with his wife, Sally.  Born in Canada in 1910, he had come to the United States at the age of 18 to study violin at the Juilliard School (his father, incidentally, was an American citizen).   He became a pupil of, and then assistant to Darius Milhaud at Mills College in Oakland, California.  The two worked together at the Aspen Music School where Jones became Director in 1970.

Throughout his career he also taught at the Music Academy of the West in Santa Barbara, the Juilliard School and the Mannes College of Music.  His compositions included an oratorio on Piers Plowman, four symphonies, and nine string quartets.

Jones was still teaching composition at Mannes and Juilliard when he died from complications of heart surgery in June 1997.  The remarkably-surviving little house was sold the following year to The Philip Colleck Gallery for $1.1 million.  The gallery, established in the 1930s, deals in 18th century English antiques.

According to the firm's president, Mark Jacoby, several months after the purchase "Part of the charm of the building is that it has its original doors, mahogany banisters and wide pine floors, all of which we're keeping.  We're keeping the room configurations as well.  There are seven different fireplaces on the three floors, and a large rear garden that we're going to beautify."

The new owners hired architect Peter M. Bernholz to design the gallery.  At the same time the coat of what Jacoby described as "old blueberry-yogurt paint" was removed from the brickwork.

As if the history of the house were not amazing enough, local lore insists that Tennessee Williams rented a room here in the 1930s.  In fact, he lived across the street at No. 316.  And that is perfectly fine.  The remarkable survivor does not need a celebrity to stand out; its excruciating charm is enough.

photographs by the author

The Lost Riding Club - Nos. 9-13 East 58th Street

The striking English facade was added in 1905.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Following the completion of Central Park, riding clubs and academies cropped up nearby.   Among the first was the New-York Riding Club, organized in 1873.  Its elegant club rooms were located in Durland's Riding Academy at Fifth Avenue and 59th Street.  Seven years later a group of members splintered off, creating the Gentlemen's Riding Club, deemed by James Grant Wilson in his 1893 The Memorial History of the City of New York, "a worthy rival."

The Fortnightly Review explained that it "owes its existence to the fact that ladies were dependent for their instruction on the riding schools, which were not always as exclusive as might be desired.  So a great many of the best known men in New York clubbed together and bought property in Fifty-eighth Street, where they put up a club-house at a cost of $60,000."  (The price would be in the neighborhood of $1.5 million today.)


The property, between Fifth and Madison Avenue and stretching through the block to 59th Street, was owned by the Astor family.  The Riding Club's headquarters was as much elegant social club as stables and riding space.  The Fortnightly Review said "It consists of a large ring two hundred feet square, on which an immense general sitting-room looks out through a partition wall of glass; a general dining-room; separate dining-rooms, drawing-rooms, and reading-rooms for ladies and gentlemen, and private dressing-rooms where the ladies can keep their habits and dress at the club.  The stables are very fine and complete in every way."

The Riding Club's founders successfully set out to make theirs the most exclusive in the city.  Membership was limited to 400, "and election to the club is a very difficult matter," said the magazine.  "The club is most particular about the social standing of its members, and also makes a high standard of horsemanship a necessary qualification."  Members paid an initiation fee of $200 and an annual dues of $100.

Although women would not become members, wives, unmarried daughters and children of members were admitted.  Shortly after moving into the new clubhouse the group removed the word "Gentlemen's" from its title.  Fortnightly Review opined "The club has contributed in an incalculable degree towards raising the standard of woman's riding in America."

Wallace's Monthly, in April 1888, wrote "The swellest coteries of lady riders are, of course, the guests of the Riding Club on Fifty-eighth Street" and noted "The ladies, in a great variety of plain colors, flock to the club from morning until evening.  They have their own lockers, dressing-rooms and bath-rooms."  The magazine added that the clubhouse was "distinguished by butlers and stewards in knee breeches, and with their calves so padded that the prince of Wales would feel quite at home with one to wait upon him."

Women wore ankle-length riding habits and rode, of course, side-saddle.  New-York Tribune, July 19, 1896 (copyright expired)

The New York Tribune, on June 7, 1891, described the women's accommodations.  "To begin with, hallboys and liveried footmen guard the double entrances on the Fifty-eighth st. side.  The ladies' parlor and reception room...is a long room, beautifully furnished, with rich carpeting and rugs, and handsomely decorated and ornamented."

The article mentioned the dressing and locker rooms "which are fitted up with an elegance that puts to shame the highest efforts in like rooms of any other club in town," and described the grand dining room on the third floor with its mahogany table that could be extended to more than 70 feet.  There were also areas strictly for men-only--like the billiard room.

Children of members could ride and receive instruction during the day, before 4:00  Harper's Young People, June 3, 1884 (copyright expired)

Not only did the millionaires enjoy luxurious surroundings, so did their horses--many of which, according to National Live Stock Journal in 1888, "are valued at $2,000 each," or around $52,000 today.  An innovative ventilation system removed the "foul air" in the stalls and riding ring; there were clipping rooms, feed rooms, stalls for 300 horses, and a "hospital" on the top floor.

Members enjoyed afternoon "music rides," from 4:30 to 6:00, during which an orchestra played. The New York Times noted on January 18, 1897 "These rides are enjoyed not only by wives and sons and daughters of members, but many of the gentlemen drop in on their way home from business for a refreshing spin around the ring before the dinner hour."

Those not riding could indulge in the afternoon tea, from 5:00 to 6:30.  The New-York Tribune explained on July 19, 1896 "Members and their guests may quaff tea while watching the evolutions of the equestrians, and listening to the orchestra, led by Martin J. Schligg."

When the club signed a renewed 20-year lease in 1896, the its membership  had grown to 500 with names that read like the Social Register.  Among them were John Jacob Astor, William E. Dodge, Elbridge T. Gerry, Elihu Root, James A. Roosevelt, William Rockefeller, Odgen Goelet and C. Oliver Iselin, to name only a few.

The appearance of automobiles did not affect the Riding Club.  The horses here were for sport, not for transportation.  And although the neighborhood immediately surrounding its property was now filled with massive mansions and first class hotels, the club not only stayed put, but updated its club house.

On May 7, 1905 The New York Times reported that a "battalion of workmen [had] piled into the building with axe and saw and hammer and began the work of translating the old familiar environment into memory."  The club had commissioned architect Bradford Lee Gilbert, best known for designing train depots, to renovate the old structure into an even more lavish one.

The newspaper said "the building will be of early Norman design, with all the pointed wall effects, the tessellated balconies and entrances, and bay windows that this type of architect suggests."  Gilbert paid special attention to the color scheme of the facade.  The brick was contrasted with warm yellow caen stone, and the metal elements were given an antique green patina.  The Times said "The combination as seen in the model presents nothing less than a symphony of soft, delightful tones."

The $200,000 renovations were completed in November that same year.  The Riding Club had the appearance of an English manor house.  And the interiors, designed by Louis Comfort Tiffany, were spectacular.

Among the new features was a "terrace scheme" that spilled down from between the second floor sitting rooms, smoking rooms and library to the ring.  An indoor garden, The Times described it as being "treated in accordance with the utmost art of the landscape gardener, and, merging with the space immediately surrounding the entire ring, which will be treated in old Venetian garden effect."  The newspaper opined that it formed "a picture not to be seen anywhere in this city, if indeed in the world."

Equally dazzling was the third floor with its "immense billiard room and cafe."  There were dressing rooms and baths for the females here, as well.  The fourth floor housed two large dining rooms, "separated by a palm garden, with fountains and statuary."

The ventilation system had been completed overhauled, so that now the air in the stalls and the ring was changed every eight minutes.  The Times noted that "to all practical purposes the riders will exercise in open air."

The building became headquarters for the Red Cross in 1917, following the country's entry into World War I.  The elegant fourth floor, with its fountains and statues, now became a factory of sorts.  The Sun explained on December 30 "the top floor of the Riding Club has been converted into a workroom where surgical dressings will be made.  The facilities of the club are open to members and their Red Cross friends."

A limousine waits outside the Riding Club around 1915.  photo by Byron Co. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

With peacetime the Riding Club returned to its high-end norm.  On December 20, 1919, for instance, Mrs. Frederic C. Thomas held the debutante reception for her daughter, Mary, here.  And the years-old tradition of indoor polo matches resumed as well.  On January 23, 1921 The New York Herald announced that the West Point cadets, the University of Pennsylvania, Yale, Harvard, Princeton and Cornell would all be participating in polo matches in February.

Abutting the 59th Street side of the Riding Club was the Hotel Savoy, erected in 1892.  Early in 1924 the Boomer-du Pont Properties purchased the leasehold on the hotel.   The group had already purchased the Waldorf-Astoria in 1918 and the Willard Hotel in Washington DC in 1920.  Now it expressed interest in replacing the Savoy with a 33-story hotel estimated to cost $18 million.

On April 18, 1924 it was announced that Vincent Astor had sold the property occupied by the Riding Club for $2 million.  The buyer was Boomer-du Pont Properties.  But the new owners were faced with a problem:  the Riding Club held a long term lease on the land.

For two years things continued as normal.   On January 29, 1926 the annual Riding Club Hound Show was held in the club.  The high-end dog show was a favorite of the fox hunting class.  But pressure mounted.  On November 6 that year The Times reported that the recently formed Savoy-Plaza Realty Corporation "has been eager to purchase the lease held by the Riding Club."  Negotiations for the purchase of the old Durland Riding Academy property on West 66th Street near Central Park, it was rumored, were being held.

A postcard pictured the new hotel.  The site of the Riding Club was directly behind, in this shot, to the right.

When the Riding Club moved out, the real estate operators wasted no time in demolishing the handsome structure, just two decades old.  The new 31-story Savoy-Plaza opened on September 29, 1927.  It survived until 1965 when it was replaced by the full-block International Style General Motors Building.

photo realtytoday

The Lost Vanderbilt Stable -- 42-44 East 58th Street

When this photograph was taken, around 1920, the carriage house has been converted to a nightclub.  Edward Kemeys' wonderful dog sculptures survived at the second story; but the horse heads have been removed.  photo from the collection of the New York Public Library

Having inherited $5 million from his grandfather, Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt, in 1877 (more in the neighborhood of $115 million today), Cornelius Vanderbilt II set to work erecting Manhattan’s most impressive mansion.  In 1878 three brownstone houses at the southwest corner of 57^th Street and Fifth Avenue were demolished as architect George Brown Post put pen to paper.

What resulted was a stark departure from the brownstone tradition of Fifth Avenue up to now.  Post produced a red brick and limestone chateau that erupted in turrets and dormers.  The architect now turned his attention to a private carriage house for the family.

At Nos. 42 and 44 East 58^th Street were two brownstone houses, four stories tall.  The same year that Vanderbilt began construction on his mansion, Samuel Hammerslough purchased No. 44 for $32,500 and Jouchim Ferro bought No. 42 for $33,000.  If they intended to live in the fashionable homes, their tenancy would not be long.  Within the year they were demolished and construction began on Vanderbilt’s private stables. 

Cornelius Vanderbilt was aggressive and competitive, and so it is not necessarily surprising that the site for his stables was, as described by The Sun on August 22, 1880, “in the heart of a district inhabited by the wealthiest people, one block from Fifth avenue, and in the centre of a long and otherwise solid block of stately brownstone fronts.  Yet no attempt to disguise its character has been made by the owner of his architect.”

The Sun was, perhaps, a bit harsh.  George Post’s lavish palace for horses and carriages carried on the French Renaissance style of the Vanderbilt mansion.   Red brick was highlighted by granite and terra cotta and, like the residence, featured peaks and dormers and spiky ornamentation.  Three yawning  openings (two massive windows sat on either side of the carriage bay) were flanked by entrances—one that accessed the coach room, the other led upstairs.

The Sun said “It is a low, wide stable, with wide carriage doors and horses’ heads, like any other stable, except that it is made so as to cost as much money as is consistent with the purposes for which it is intended.”  Those "purposes" were the housing, care and feeding of numerous costly horses; and the garaging of the Vanderbilt fleet of vehicles.  There would be a coach, carriages for different seasons and purposes, and at least one sleigh.

The newspaper said “The interior, on the other hand, is like a church, except that there are but few churches in New York that are so elegant or so costly.  Probably no stable in the world approaches it in these respects.” 

photo Outing magazine, September 1901 (copyright expired)

Vanderbilt, according to The Sun, “wanted appropriate medallions and figures in carved work for the façade…He wanted horses’ heads, but not of the stiff and unnatural sort that the iron founders have been turning out of late.”  He turned to Edward Kemeys who, despite no formal training, had received much acclaim in Paris and London for his brilliantly lifelike animal sculptures.

Kemeys executed two terra cotta horse heads—a mare and a stallion--that burst forth from medallions above each of the side entrances.  The Sun was meticulous in its description:

“The neck of the [stallion] is arched in a manner that conveys an idea of strong excitement, if not fury, in the brute.  His eyes bulge from his head, his nostrils are dilated, the cords of his neck are swollen, his jaws are set.  He seems to be tearing his way through the wall toward the other figure on the opposite side of the arch.  This other figure is the head and neck of a mare—of a slender-nosed, small-featured, almost deer-like animal.  The mare’s eyes are on the stallion.  She looks at him sideways from under fringed eyelids.  Her face expresses mischief, timidity, hesitation.”

The artist, judged the newspaper, “excelled himself.”   Most notable of Kemey’s work, though, were the three dog sculptures within the triangular pediments of the second floor.   There was some contention about the breeds; although everyone seemed to agree that the central sculpture, “as big as half a flour barrel,” was a Siberian bloodhound.  The droopy eyed hound looked miserably toward the sidewalk.  On either side were what The Churchman described as “two bulldogs.”  The Sun felt that one of them was a mastiff and was “about to bark.”

Inside were a carriage elevator, a vaulted skylight and an “ornamental gallery, built of terra cotta.”  The columns were of polished brass with ornate capitals and the hardware of the stalls was silver-plated.  “The stable looks like a Moorish temple,” opined The Sun.  “Twisted columns of terra cotta spring from the balustrade of the gallery to the roof, and are set in a curtain of pressed brick, in which are numberless panels designed by the botanist.”  The designs in the brick represented horse chestnuts, oats, clover, strawberries and other natural elements.

In 1892 George Post was back, working with Richard Morris Hunt, in expanding the Vanderbilt’s Fifth Avenue mansion.  The addition, completed a year later, resulted in a 130-room palace that engulfed the Avenue block from 56^th to 57^th Street.   It was here, on the morning of September 12, 1899, that Cornelius Vanderbilt II woke and said to his wife, Alice, “I think that I am dying.”  Within minutes he was dead of a brain hemorrhage.

Alice Vanderbilt stayed on in the Fifth Avenue mansion and the 58^th Street carriage house continued to house her stable of horses and carriages.   By 1910 she had replaced the horse-drawn vehicles with automobiles.  When her daughter-in-law, Cathleen Neilson Vanderbilt, wife of Reginald, was injured in an car accident on May 11 that year, she was being driven by the Vanderbilt chauffeur, S. Bone, who lived in the carriage house.

Time were changing by 1915 and that year the former William Vanderbilt stables at Madison Avenue and 52^nd Street were converted to a high-end night club, the Club de Vingt.   The Sun called it “a popular meeting place for members of the fashionable set.”  But only a year later the Club relocated to Alice Vanderbilt’s 58^th Street stable building.

On February 20, 1916 the New-York Tribune reported that the club had secured Mrs. Vanderbilt’s stable and that Donn Barber had been hired to do the renovations.   Truly a night "club" in the strictest sense, its members included names like the August Belmonts, Cornelius and Harold Vanderbilt, Mrs. F. C. Havemeyer, the Oliver Harrimans, and Harris and William Fahnestock and their wives.

The Sun, February 7, 1915 (copyright expired)

The façade of the carriage house was tenderly altered.  The two terra cotta horses’ heads were removed (they most likely were too closely associated with the building’s utilitarian beginnings); however the wonderful dog sculptures remained.  The carriage bay was replaced by shiny brass double doors.  Inside, Barber’s renovations included a large stage at one end of the former coach room and a dance floor.

The upper-class neighbors may have turned their heads when Cornelius Vanderbilt erected his lavish stable; but some were not about to do so when a nightclub took over, no matter how elite its members.   In the spring of 1917 Mrs. Rosa G. Simons of No. 38 East 58^th Street filed suit to have the club’s liquor license revoked.   When she failed to succeed, she filed an affidavit that the club was a “nuisance.”   The attorney for the Club de Vingt noted in court “Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt had consented as the owner of the building to the use to which it was put because of the high class of its patrons.”

The high class patrons, however, were fox-trotting the night away to the syncopated strains of the De Vingt Orchestra.   On July 17 The Sun reported that residents were “unable to sleep nights, they say, because of the music and dancing and handclapping there.”  A lawsuit was filed against Alice Vanderbilt and Anna K. Hawkesworth, the manager, alleging “that food and drink are still being sold and served on the premises and that there is much loud laughter during the early hours of the morning, interspersed all the while with music from a large orchestra or brass band.”

The untidy affair ended on September 20, 1917 when an injunction was issued restraining the club from selling liquor.  The Sun, in reporting on the judgment, diplomatically noted “The property is owned by Mrs. Alice Vanderbilt, but she had no connection with the club outside of leasing the property.”

The club survived in the former stable for a few more years.  It was a favorite spot for debutante dances and, as later described by F. Scott Fitzgerald, “a proper establishment to which young women were brought by chaperones to meet boys from socially approved schools.”

In 1920 the Club de Vingt moved to the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.  Alice Vanderbilt leased the 58^th Street building to art and antiques dealer Augustus W. Clarke for 21 years.  His total lease amount of $400,000 would equate to about $221,000 per year today.  On June 26 the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide reported on Clarke’s anticipated use of the former stage for auction purposes.

“Mr. Clarke has made plans for a unique transformation of this stage.  He will cut away the old floor and install a stage that revolves on a pivot.  This will be divided by a partition.  An object that is being sold will occupy the half of this stage that is next to the audience.  When the hammer descends, the attendant will press a button and the stage will revolve, disclosing the next item, which has been put in place ‘behind the screens.’  At the same time an electric announcer will flash the catalogue number of the object.”

For years the Clarke Gallery exhibited some of the rarest and most costly antiques and works of art.  In a November 1920 sale of Spanish antiquities a “painted and carved ceiling, which comes intact from the Palace of the Duc d’Arcos of the province of Marchena in Seville” was auctioned.  And a portrait auction two months later included works by Sir Joshua Reynolds, Gilbert Stuart, Sir Peter Lely, Mignard and Sir Thomas Lawrence.

In May 1921 William Randolph Hearst was a major buyer, paying $4,115 for six items.  Included in that sale were 16^th century carpets, tapestries, paintings and furniture.

Nine years into Clarke’s lease the old carriage house was converted to the Plaza Theater.  Then in November 1938 theater owner Walter Reade purchased it from Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney for $450,000.  “He intends to remodel the property,” reported The New York Times.

On June 26, 1996 The New York Times reported that the 500-seat theater, “originally a stable for Cornelius Vanderbilt 2d,” had been leased “and is being renovated for the opening in mid-October of ‘Show Me New York,’ a high-definition television travelogue, created especially for tourists, of life in New York City.”

photograph by the author

In 2000 what was left of the Vanderbilt stable was transformed into a sleek, trendy restaurant. While the original bones of the magnificent structure exist somewhere deep inside, one of Manhattan's most intriguing buildings is nonetheless lost.