The Lost 1884 Ogden Goelet Mansion -- No. 608 Fifth Avenue

NYPL Collection

The Goelet family settled in New York in the 17^th century and soon established a family tradition of constant, quiet acquisition of Manhattan property.   There was one cardinal rule:  land was never sold.  The Goelet fortunes increased through leases rather than sales.

When eccentric bachelor Peter Goelet died in 1879, the bulk of his estate went to his two nephews, Robert and Ogden.  By now New York City was spreading northward and the value of the Goelet vast land holdings – once rural meadows and woods—was multiplying.   The fortunes of the already wealthy Robert and Ogden Goelet were nearly doubled upon the death of their father.

Unlike some of the self-made industrialist millionaires of 19^th Century New York, the brothers were well-educated and well-mannered.   There was a refinement about them that set the brothers a bit apart from the nouveau-riche.

As they married, each commissioned the architect E. H. Kendall to design a grand mansion on Fifth Avenue, diagonally across from one another.  Construction of Ogden’s residence, at No. 608 on the southwest corner of 49^th Street, began in 1882.  Kendall designed a lavish, four-story structure above a deep basement of rough-cut stone.

Absent were the curves and arches fashionable on homes of a decade earlier.  Instead sharp angles and geometric lines defined the mansion.  It would be set back from the sidewalk, protected by a wide, deep light moat.  The top floor would detonate in pyramidal caps, ornate iron cresting, highly-ornamented dormers and elaborate chimneys.

While the exterior was meant to impress, the interiors would be staggering.  Louis Comfort Tiffany’s interior design firm, Associated Artists, was commissioned to decorate the home and the project required a full year to complete.

Then, April 14, 1884 the Ogden and Mary Goelet opened the doors to society.  The New York Times society page sub-headline read “Their Splendid New House thrown Open to Their Friends.”  “Their friends” required over 500 invitations, most of which were accepted.

In the 1880s in Manhattan, grand balls and glittering entertainments were a matter of fact.  Men in evening clothes and women dripping in pearls and jewels routinely dined and danced in the opulent rooms of Fifth Avenue.  But this night was special.

The guests who ascended the wide entrance stairs into the large hall filled with palms and flowering shrubs included the Astors, Belmonts, Vanderbilts, Van Rensselaers, Lorillards and Livingstons.  John Jay and his wife were there as were the Rhinelander sisters, Edwards Pierrepont, Mrs. Lloyd Aspinwall and General and Mrs. McClellan.  Ward McAllister, cohort of Caroline Astor and self-appointed authoritarian on society protocol, was among the high-toned crowd.  No one, it seems, wanted to pass up the opportunity to be seen at the opening event of the Spring social season of 1884.

Guests danced in the 14-century style drawing room with its oak paneling.  Tiffany brightened the somber wooden walls by hanging the windows with embroidered gold and chenille draperies.

 A second drawing room was decidedly French with painted insets in the paneling and above the marble mantel with its bronze figures was hung a carved marble medallion of Louis XV.  Beyond the dining room was the conservatory to the rear of the home.

As was normal for 19^th century society, things began late.  The guests began filing in around 11 pm.  Mary Ogden had Tiffany & Co. create “very pretty favors in silver,” as The Times reported; and after dancing supper (which was catered by Pinard, Mary’s favored chef) was served in the dining rooms on petite Louis XVI tables.

Mary’s entertaining was always lavish and tasteful; and her floral arrangements became somewhat of a trademark.  On February 1, 1886 the Goelet’s hosted a formal dinner, as usual served by Pinard, which prompted The Times to note “There was the usual elaborate floral decoration, novel features of which were two floral peacocks, upon which the favors for the guests were hung.”

Both Ogden and Mary were yachting enthusiasts.   Although he donated the Goelet Cups as prizes for the annual New York Yacht Club races, his interest was in cruising rather than racing.   And although they did build one of the most lavish mansions in Newport, Ochre Court, the couple preferred to sail abroad on their schooner Norseman.   The house on Fifth Avenue saw less and less of Ogden and Mary Goelet.

The Goelets purchased Wimborne House, one of the most attractive mansions in London, and were nearly as well-known in Paris and London society circles as they were in New York and Newport; even becoming close friends with the Prince of Wales.

In 1896 Goelet hired ship designer George L. Watson to design a new yacht.  Built in Glasgow, the twin screw steel yacht Mayflower became Ogden’s preferred place to live.  The New York Times said that “in luxurious appointments this yacht has never been surpassed.”

1896 was a socially-stellar year for the Goelets.  England was celebrating the Golden Jubilee of Victoria and Wimborne House was the scene of a dinner for the Prince of Wales, reported to be “one of the social successes of the season.”  On April 7, while in Nice, the Prince received his mother, Queen Victoria, aboard the royal yacht Britannia and took advantage of the occasion to present the Goelets to her Majesty.

At the time, however, Ogden’s health “had not been rugged for several years,” as The Times worded it.  The following summer he became ill.  The Mayflower was at anchor off the Isle of Wight when he took a turn for the worse.  The Prince of Wales’ physician, Sir William Henry Broadbent, was called to the yacht and stayed with Goelet for several days.

On August 27, 1897 Ogden Goelet died aboard the Mayflower.

A month later the millionaire’s will was made public.  Eyebrows were, perhaps, raised when it was announced that “No public or charitable bequest of any kind is made, and the entire estate is left to the widow and two children.”

Mary received the houses, including No. 608 and its “engravings, prints, books, pamphlets, household furniture, silver plate, china, paintings, tapestry, statuary, bric-a-brac, works of art, jewelry, watches, trinkets, horses, carriages, stable, farm and garden tools, etc.”   The estate was valued at around $60 million.

Mary continued to winter abroad on the Mayflower and, beginning in 1898, loaned the house on Fifth Avenue to her sister, Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt, Jr. and her husband in her absence.    When Prince Henry of Prussia made a trip to the United States in 1902 the Vanderbilts gave a formal dinner party for the Prince here.    The National Souvenir of Prince Henry’s Visit to the United States reported extensively on the affair.  The overflow of guests was seated at tables in the conservatory but “There was no difference in the elegance of the two tables, the appointments of both being in most approved taste,” said the Souvenir.  “There was, of course, a notable display of gold and silver plate.”

“The floral decorations of the house, arranged by Small, were in most refined taste, not at all obtrusive, and such as might be expected at one of the regular dinner parties of the household during the season.”  The book noted that “even the finger bowls were filled with flowers, gardenias and jasmine.”

Dinner was served by Sherry’s, “whose men wore handsome liveries” and the guest list included the most elite of continental and New York society.   Along with foreigners like the Countess Grey, Count Quadt, Captains von Grumme, Schmidt von Schwind and von Mueller, were John Jacob Astor, August Belmont, Stuyvesant Fish and Assistant Secretary of State David J. Hill.

The Souvenir added “As can well be imagined, there was a collection of handsome women who did full justice to the occasion as regarded costumes and jewels.  Nearly all the married women wore superb head ornaments of jewels, and stomachers, as well.”

When, on January 2 that same season, the Vanderbilts hosted a musicale by some of the most noted musical stars, The New York Times commented that “The Ogden Goelet residence, which Mr. and Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt have leased for the season…is one of the largest and handsomest private establishments in town, and admirably adapted for an entertainment of the character of that of last evening…The large reception rooms, opening into the hall, which is a noble apartment, were given over as dressing rooms.  The floral decorations were superb, and consisted of immense palms and masses of American Beauty rose.  Large vases of the flowers were placed in the hallway and rooms by Hodgson and on the large and small tables in the dining room and conservatory, where the dinner was served by Sherry.”

The following year the home was the center of activity as Mary prepared for the society wedding of the season.   Daughter Mary would marry the Duke of Roxburghe in St. Thomas Church and New York society was atwitter with the arrival of titled Europeans.

Because of the small number of guests invited to the church—merely 500—the immense sanctuary was “reduced by the use of huge palms to the size of an English chapel,” reported The Times.   The vested choir of 50 men and boys led the procession down the aisle as a cordon of policemen prevented anyone without a card from entering the church.

Afterwards, 150 guests were entertained at the Goelet house.  The reception rooms were decorated with a veil of orchids and vines and the large mantel in the hall was banked with American Beauty roses and yellow orchids.  A trellis work of deep red roses was formed over the sides of the massive staircase to the second floor.

On the evening of June 20, 1904, Mary Ogden returned home from “a small function” and removed her jewels, placing them in their case.   They were then secured in the safe in her boudoir.   Only Mary and her maid had the five keys necessary to access the jewelry.

The following month the maid carried the jewel case to the carriage as Mary prepared to go to the Newport mansion.   While dressing for dinner at Ochre Court on July 19, she was startled to find the $200,000 worth of jewels missing.

Tiffany & Co. circulated fliers with illustrations of the jewelry and the Pinkerton bureau was put on the case.  A reward of $10,000 was offered.

Within a few days it was announced that Mary Ogden had found the jewels back in her safe in the Fifth Avenue house.  The search was called off and not everyone was content to believe that Mary had merely forgotten that she had left the jewel case at home.  Many looked askance at the maid who, they believed, had stealthily replaced the stolen jewels in a panic.

While most of society moved northward along Central Park after the turn of the century, Mary Ogden remained in the immense mansion at No. 608.  In 1911 a widening of Fifth Avenue was cause for the wide and dramatic front stoop to be removed.

The work site became something like a scene from a silent movie comedy when, around 5:00 on September 22, a dense swarm of bees descended on a wooden soap box sitting on a sawhorse.  Before long the box was covered with buzzing insects and passersby were collecting to see the curious sight.

When one workman overturned the box, trapping most of the bees inside, those still free began stinging the crowd.  “All hands scattered.  No policeman could have done better,” reported The Sun.

When one woman complained that the poor bees were suffocating, a workman thrust a stick under a corner of the box to admit air.  Immediately the swarm came out, flying into taxi cab windows and scaring delivery horses.  Mrs. Ogden’s refined and cultured home was the scene of panic and chaos.

When the bees returned to the box, things came to a peaceful end when Policeman Lawler soaked it in kerosene and lit a match.

The Times reported that all the bees were not killed and “some sought refuge in chimneys and others wandered down side streets in quest of adventure.  Other bees visited the Hotel Buckingham at Fiftieth Street to the terror of guests.”  Despite all this, the newspaper added “No arrests were made.”

Mary lived on in the stoop-less house and in 1914 purchased a Renault motorcar.  Four years later Arthur Barlett Maurice in his “Fifth Avenue” mentioned her house among those that “recall the tradition and flavor of the older New York" by holding on “despite the invasion of business.”

An aging Mary Goelet moved into a suite at the Savoy-Plaza Hotel in 1926.  The blinds on the windows of No. 608 were pulled, the doors were locked and the house sat empty on a busy Fifth Avenue now lined with office and retail buildings.

Three years later the 73-year old Mary contracted influenza which developed into pneumonia.  Within six days she was dead.

As she had requested, her funeral was held in the Fifth Avenue house.  On February 25, 1929 the rooms of the Ogden mansion were bedecked with flowers for the last time—lilies, roses, gardenias and lilies of the valley.  The entire St. Thomas Church choir was grouped in the entrance hall and New York society spilled into three rooms.

As Mary’s casket, covered with violets and orchids, was carried out of the house through the massive doors draped with orchid-colored streamers and laurel, policemen held back the gawking crowds.

The grand home would not be opened again until November when the furnishings and artwork were auctioned.  Rare carpets, Hepplewhite dining chairs, and Louix XV antiques were sold along with Sevres porcelain vases, tapestries and silver.  When it was over, the rooms that had glittered with the lavish entertainments of the 1880s and 1890s were empty and silent.

On March 2, 1930 The New York Times briefly reported that “The Goelet residence…is being razed to make way for a ten-story structure to house stores and office buildings.  It is one of the few last remaining of the distinctive home with once lined Fifth avenue south of Central Park.”

In its place rose the Goelet Building, a remarkable 1930s office building that survives today.

In 1932 the Goelet Building had taken the place of the last great mansion on 5th Avenue below Central Park -- photo NYPL Collection

The American Express Stables -- No. 157 Hudson Street

The restored Hubert Street facade.  Built as two stories, it was the original structure in 1866 -- photo by Alice Lum

Prior to the Civil War St. John’s Park was one of the most exclusive residential neighborhoods of Manhattan. Along with the fine brick Federal-style residences that lined the square was the majestic 1807 Georgian-style St. John’s Chapel.

But in 1867 Trinity Church sold the park to the Hudson River Railroad for $1 million. The railroad built a freight depot and the elegant neighborhood was no more. Rapidly the homes were replaced with warehouses and small factories that took advantage of the proximity to the railroad.

At the same time, private express mail companies like Adams Express, Wells Fargo and American Express were rapidly growing. Founded in 1850 in Albany, American Express established its headquarters in Manhattan at Jay and Hudson Streets and essentially enjoyed a monopoly on the shipment of express goods in the state for two decades.

Even before the freight depot was built, American Express erected at two-story stable at Nos. 4 to 8 Hubert Street in 1866, designed by architects Ritch & Griffiths. The stark brick building did not pretend to be anything other than a utilitarian building with little ornamentation.

The newly-completed Hudson River Railway depot sat approximately one block away, directly across from the house at No. 157 Hudson Street. The owner of the house was quick to react, along with other wealthy residents. The commodious residence—25 feet wide—sat on a lot that extended 109 feet back, in the middle of the block between Hubert and Laight Streets. The homeowner sold the property on April 20, 1870 for $24,750 in cash, which The New York Times deemed “very cheap at the price.”

While American Express was operating its stable from Hubert Street, the United States Army established a cavalry rendezvous local recruiting office around the corner at No. 157 Hudson Street in the 1880s.

Although funds transfers and long-distance finance had already become an important part of the firm’s operations—the American Express Travelers Cheque was copyrighted in 1891—American Express recognized the need to enlarge the Hubert Street facility in 1898. Architect Edward Hale Kimball was commissioned to extend the stable through the entire block along Collier Street to Laight Street.

The original, Hubert Street entrance in 1937 long after Kimball's renovations--photo NYPL Collection

It was most likely at this time that the entire structure was increased to three stories. Kimball updated the original façade, melding it with the addition by matching the keyed window surrounds and introducing a mixture of Romanesque Revival and Renaissance Revival styles; both highly popular at the time.

The American Express bulldog appears in terra cotta relief on both the Laight and Hubert Street facades -- photo by Alice Lum

On both the Laight Street and Hubert Street sides, Kimball added a robust terra cotta bulldog logo in a rondel under a shallow stepped parapet. The renovations were completed a year later, in 1899.

Only three years later, in 1902, the building was enlarged again. Architect Charles Romeyn widened the Laight Street side. He also added a long, narrow extension through the middle of the block to No. 157 Hudson Street where the Cavalry had been headquartered, creating a T-shaped structure.

The enlarged stables stretched the length of the Collier Street block -- photo by Alice Lum

The days of horses and drays for the American Express Company were numbered, however. In 1913 the parcel post system was established, wielding a significant blow to the express companies. By 1918 American Express was gone and a railroad freight firm, the American Railway Express Company, was using the building.

The building was renovated again in 1946 when architect Henry G. Harrington remodeled it for use as the factory of the First Machinery Corporation, manufacturers of plastic and rubber products. Harrington also remodeled the Hudson Street façade by adding stone pilasters and arches framing the entrances.

Harrington's addition at No. 157 Hudson forming the base of the T-shaped building (seen far right) stands next to two derelict Federal homes, still remarkably intact in 1922.  Their marble arches and lintels, even their elegant entranceways and iron railings are still in place.

First Machinery Corporation ran its factory here through the 1950s.

The narrow Hudson Street facade shows the 1946 changes, prior to the 2006 renovation -- photo NYPL Collection

As TriBeca experienced a renaissance, the old American Express stables saw change. Where horses and then machinery were once housed, No. 157 Hudson was now a hot night spot. Three different nightclubs—Headley, Vinyl and Area—were here. In 1997, despite more than one shooting at Vinyl, the club’s owner Nick DiTomasso said “…they’re just dancing. It’s all about dancing.”

When Peter Moore purchased the building in 2004, it needed serious reviving -- photo ny.curbed.com

The sometimes eyebrow-raising activities came to a halt when developer Peter Moore bought the building in 2004 for $18 million. Working with architect Kevin Kennon he brought the deteriorating structure back to life.

The Laight Street side in 2006 as construction begins -- photo by Skye H. McFarlane for Downtown Express

After struggling for awhile with the Landmarks Preservation Commission over a proposed three-story rooftop addition, Moore settled for a compromise of a two-story addition invisible from the street. The resulting multifamily structure had 17 unique loft apartments averaging 3,000 square feet each.

Architect Kevin Kennon's model shows the rooftop addition, engineered to be invisible from the street -- photo worldarchitecturenews.com

One apartment went a bit further. Called “Marble House,” the 9,200 square foot triplex had an entrance on Collister Street to the rear, four bedrooms, five baths, a kitchen sink “quarried from one 2-ton piece of Carrara marble,” a below-ground swimming pool and a price tag of $24.5 million in 2009. (In 2011 most apartments were going for a more affordable $3 million or so.)

photo by Alice Lum

Nearly a century and a half after the original stable was built, it serves as a fine example of reuse of an historic property.

The Lost Robert Goelet Mansion - No. 591 5th Avenue

The Goelet Mansion in 1931.  While modern commercial buildings went up around it, Robert W. Goelet stayed on -- photo NYPL Collection

Robert and Ogden Goelet inherited vast real estate holdings in Manhattan upon the death of their father, also named Robert, and their bachelor uncle Peter. The family was descended from Peter Goelet, a wealthy New York merchant in the 18th century.

Shortly after Robert married Henrietta (Harriet) Louise Warren in 1879, he commissioned architect Edward H. Kendall to design a Fifth Avenue mansion worthy of his social standing.  The brothers admired Kendall’s work–within four years he would design Ogden’s residence across the avenue at 608 Fifth Avenue and their 1884 Gorham Building at Broadway and 19th Street.

Completed in 1880, the year the couple's son Robert Walton Goelet was born, the mansion was a looming Queen Anne-style brownstone structure.  Four stories tall over an English basement, it stretched far back along 48th Street. A projecting porch supported a deep second-story bay window on the Fifth Avenue side and a similar bay broke the severe lines of the 48th Street façade. The somber design became more relaxed at the fourth floor where a hipped mansard roof was punctuated by bold, dramatic dormers that marched along the cornice.

The house was the setting of glittering social events. Four years after its completion, Henrietta gave “a little dance” here for 200 guests in honor of her sister, Edith.  Among those passing among the potted palms in the hallways that evening were names like Lorillard, Astor, Belmont, Van Rensselaer and Schermerhorn.

Like the homes of all New York millionaires, the Goelet mansion was filled with tapestries and antiques collected from around the globe. In the drawing room was a Vernis Martin harpsichord valued at $6,000, and rooms throughout the house were furnished with Louis XIV gilt furniture and French Empire pieces.

In 1885 the Goelets' daughter, Beatrice, was born. The sweet-faced girl would earn immortality when her parents commissioned society portrait artist John Singer Sargent to paint her with her pet parrot in the 5th Avenue home.

Young Beatrice Goelet, posing in No. 591 5th Avenue, would be immortalized by John Singer Sergent

The Goelet fortune continued to grow.  In 1887 M. F. Sweetser and Simeon Ford mentioned the house in their How to Know New York City, saying “…at the other end of the block, with carved stone griffins in front, is the home of Robert Goelet.  The Goelet estate is above $20,000,000.”

Robert owned a 306-foot steam yacht, the Nahma, built in Glasgow at a cost of $1 million.  When the Goelets were not spending time at their Newport, Tuxedo or Fifth Avenue homes, they were traveling abroad on the yacht.

It was on such a voyage, in 1899, that Robert Goelet unexpectedly died of heart failure in Naples.  Henrietta, who was along on the trip, was forced to endure the long crossing home with her husband’s body below deck.  Goelet’s estate was estimated at between $25 and $40 million.

The young Robert Walton Goelet was suddenly one of the wealthiest young men in the country.  Only a year after his father’s death, the Biographical Directory of the State of New York listed him as “director Bank of New Amsterdam, Chemical National Bank, Guaranty Trust Co. and Metropolitan Opera and Real Estate Co.; trustee New York Life Insurance and Trust Co. and Union Trust Co.  Member Union, Knickerbocker, Racquet and Tennis, New York Yacht, Tuxedo, Metropolitan, Players’, South Side Sportsmen’s, Manuscript, Turf and Field and Suburban Riding and Driving Clubs, American Fine Arts, Holland and St. Nicholas Societies, Columbia Alumni and Adline Associations and Association of the Bar of the City of New York.”

The young man’s fortune increased dramatically when, in 1902, his sister died.  Beatrice, whom The New York Times said “had never been robust,” had accompanied her mother on the Nahma each winter since her father’s death, visiting Egypt, the Baltic and the Southern Seas.  The yacht was preparing for their winter cruise when the 17-year-old contracted measles which progressed into pneumonia.

In 1911, The American Magazine did not estimate Goelet’s fortune so highly.  In it, Albert Jay Nock noted that ““Robert Goelet lives at 591 Fifth Avenue.  His house is rated at $800,000 and his personal assessment in New York is only $6,000.  A white elephant is a windfall beside such misfortune as this.”  The American Magazine got it wrong.

When Harriet was diagnosed with cancer in 1912, she took the Nahma to Paris seeking treatment.  There, at her residence at 46 Avenue d’Iena, she died on December 4.  Her entire estate of about $40 million was left to Robert.

As the stress of wealth no doubt weighed upon Robert, he arranged massage sessions in his home with Dr. Robert E. Moore.  Dr. Moore was considered one of the finest masseurs in the city and was often sought out by wealthy New Yorkers with stiff muscles.

Goelet became concerned, however, when he noticed that about $3,000 in cash had disappeared over a period of months from his bedroom.  Detectives left $350 in marked bills on Robert’s dresser on December 6, 1914.  When Goelet excused himself from the room after his massage, the doctor helped himself to $90 of the unattended cash.  Robert W. Goelet sought a new masseur and Dr. Moore sought a new profession.

Robert Goelet ignored the changes to his Fifth Avenue neighborhood.  As other mansions were torn down or converted into retail establishments or clubs, the wealthy financier and real estate titan lived on in 591.

The fabulously-wealthy Robert W Goelet - photo Library of Congress

Then, on May 2, 1941, Robert Walton Goelet died of a heart attack in the grand brownstone mansion in which he was born.  One of the last of the midtown Fifth Avenue palaces, it was now doomed.

A three-day art auction was held in the house not long after Robert’s death.  His parents' tapestries and artworks, and the John Singer Sargent portrait of his sister Beatrice were sold.  The house, for the first time in 61 years, was empty and without a Goelet.

Today there is no remnant of the house at No. 591. Like most of Fifth Avenue’s grand Victorian mansions, it has been replaced by a soaring glass and steel structure.  And there's not a hint of a carved, stone griffin.

The Methodist Book Concern - 150 Fifth Avenue

The Methodist Book Concern Building in 1895 -- King's Photographic Views of New York (author's collection)

In February 1887 the Methodist Book Concern and the Missionary Society discussed leaving the building they had owned and occupied for nearly 20 years at Broadway and 11th Street.  A new facility, it was argued, could combine the offices with the printing and binding departments of the Book Concern which had been housed on Mulberry Street for 40 years.  At the time, the Methodist Book Concern was, by some reports, the largest publishing firm in the world.

By November a committee had selected the southwest corner of Fifth Avenue and 20th Street, and purchased the property for about $65,000.  The location was ideal, for by this time the strip of Fifth Avenue from 13th Street to 23rd Street was already being lined with religious-based office buildings–printing and publishing houses, missionary offices and church headquarters–earning it the nickname Paternoster Row.

Demolition of the existing buildings was completed by spring when construction commenced.  The New York Times commented on the planned building.  “There will be stores on the avenue and offices and meeting rooms above…[used] three-fourths by the Book Concern and one-fourth by the Missionary Society.”

Edward Hale Kendall, who had designed the Gorham Building on Broadway and 19th Street four years earlier, received the commission.  On March 23, 1888 the cornerstone, containing issues of all the religious weekly publications, was laid.  Completed two years later, Kendall had produced a robust Romanesque Revival structure.  Two floors of rusticated pink granite formed a base for four stories of red brick.  A trio of three-story, faceted bays nestled in long four-story brick arches on the Fifth Avenue front gave movement to the façade. Above the top floor, a classic balustrade with stone urns encircled the roof.

In his 1894 book The Outlook, Francis Rufus Bellamy described the building:

It has a front of 104 feet and a depth of 170 feet, and is thus a huge structure even in the neighborhood of great buildings.  It is eight stories high, and absolutely fireproof.  The lower stories are of stone and the upper of brick.  If spread out, its floor room would cover over three and a half acres.  The ample offices for the missionary officials within, and the facades on Fifth Avenue and Twentieth Street, without, present a cheerful and comfortable aspect as  befits the stronghold of the Methodist Episcopal Church.

The Methodist Book Concern printed periodicals like The Christian Advocate (“Official Newspaper of the Church”) and the Sunday School Journal.  Yet, despite the virtuous publications that were produced here, the Concern was not immune to scandal.  In 1896, Methodists were shocked by the publication in Baltimore of the Rev. Dr. John Lanahan's book The Era of Frauds of the Methodist Book Concern at New York in which he made accusations of "great corruption and fraud, involving losses of several hundred thousand dollars."

In 1916 the head of the Concern, the Rev. Dr. George P. Mains, was accused of heresy when his book Modern Thought and Traditional Faith espoused advanced views on evolution and science, and suggested that Genesis was mostly "myth."  Mains countered his detractor, the Rev. George A. Cooke, by saying that his doctrines were "displeasing only to those individuals who take literally every line of the
Scriptures and believe that mistakes of grammar in the King James version are inspired, and that Jonah was literally swallowed by the whale."

Three floors were added in 1909, including medieval-style ornamentation and the decorative monogram MBC on the Fifth Avenue elevation.

The building continued to house printing firms throughout the first half of the 20th century. In 1951, Abingdon-Cokesbury Press was headquartered here when it published the first of twelve volumes of The Interpreter’s Bible, the first multi-volume Bible commentary printed in 130 years.  Although the Methodist Book Concern moved to Nashville in 1939, a wholesale office and bookstore remained until 1962.

By the second half of the century, the neighborhood and the building were changing.  The Amalgamated Laundry Workers Health Center was here in 1953, and by 1960 the structure housed the headquarters of Ideax Corporation, a camera and photography equipment distributor.  Thirteen years later, on December 4, 1973, a bomb exploded in the offices of the United States Committee for Justice for Latin American Political Prisoners, injuring two staff workers.

Unsympathetic street level renovations caused The AIA Guide to New York City to complain, "the ground floor entrance has been modernized with misunderstanding."  However in 2001 new owners L& L Acquisitions commissioned architects HLW International to do a $6 million restoration and renovation.  The facade and entrance were restored (the granite had been painted gray and the arched entrance had been boxed over), and the lobby was redesigned with a vaulted ceiling and stone floors.

photo by Beyond My Ken

The building was purchased a year later by a German institutional fund for more than $102 million.  Today 105 Fifth Avenue has regained the dignity of its street level and is a stately reminder of the long-gone Paternaster Row.



photograph by Alice Lum



The 1884 Gorham Manufacturing Building

The Gorham Building in 1895 -- King's Photographic Views of New York (author's collection)

Broadway around Union Square was an exclusive shopping area in the early 1880's.  Tiffany & Co., Lord and Taylor, A. T. Stewart and Arnold Constable had all moved their emporiums north from downtown in the 1870's. The exclusive silver merchants Gorham Manufacturing Company would follow suit.

Robert and Ogden Goelet had inherited large plots of land along Broadway.  Small commercial buildings filled the plots not yet taken over by the huge cast iron or marble-fronted dry goods stores.  Two such buildings–a hardware store and a marble dealer–sat at the northwest corner of Broadway and 19th Street.  The Goelets commissioned architect Edward Hale Kendall, who had recently designed their Fifth Avenue mansions, to build a mixed-use structure on the site.

Begun in 1883, his eight-story red brick Queen Anne style building was trimmed with terra cotta, white stone, and copper flashings.  Black slate shingles graced a modified mansard roof with cast iron cresting.

Kendall's choice of the Queen Anne style stood out on a thoroughfare lined with imposing French Second Empire retail stores.  The first two floors of the building were designed for commercial use, while the upper floors were laid out as bachelor apartments, which had no kitchens nor dining rooms.

By now, Tiffany & Co. had established itself as the hallmark of quality jewelry.  And while the firm did offer flatware, New York City’s carriage trade went to Gorham Manufacturing for its silverware.  When the Broadway building was completed in 1884, Gorham left its downtown location and took over the two lower floors.

The New York Times reported on May 28, 1884, “The first and second floors of the new structure are devoted to an exhibition of the silverware manufactured by the company, which is displayed in rich mahogany cases and illuminated at night by the Edison electric light with which the building is lighted, and the effect of this light on the heavy silver articles is remarkably brilliant...There is scarcely an article that can be manufactured of silver that is not to be found in this magnificent new store.”

A year later, the store had expanded to include the third floor. The New York Times reported that “...the glitter of silver on each floor is ruinous to weak eyes.  No greater collection of solid silverware is to be found in any one place on this or any other continent, the assortment ranging from scarfpins and sleeve buttons to huge punch bowls and dinner sets, so that the presence of brides, grooms, friends, and relatives is easily accounted for.”  The article listed dresser sets, tea and dinner services, trinket boxes, trays, and “so many unique and curious designs that it is a toil and trouble to select therefrom.”

The company used innovative designs in its flatware and hollowware–the Neo-Renaissance, Art-Nouveau and Aesthetic Movement trends, for example.  King’s Handbook said the store offered “silver fashioned for every conceivable use.” And in Victorian New York, there was no end to "conceivable uses" for silver.

A testament to the firm's quality, it was announced in 1889 that Gorham Manufacturing would be one of four American silversmiths to represent the United States at the Paris Exhibition.

Following the assassination of President William McKinley, The New York Times noted on September 15, 1901, “Gorham’s silver establishment, at Broadway and Eighteenth Street, had a peculiarly effective window decoration yesterday.  The background was in plain black.  In the foreground there was a fine engraving of Mr. McKinley, draped, with a small green palm under the picture.  Standing just to the right of the engraving was a bronze statuette of an angel, with her hands in a prayerful attitude, the face peering fixedly at that of McKinley.”

Joining in the migration of the exclusive shops to Fifth Avenue, Gorham left its Broadway corner on September 5, 1905.  After a few years of various tenants, Robert Reis & Co., the men’s underwear manufacturer best known for its BVD brand, took over the lease in 1912.  Architect John H. Duncan renovated the building, converting it into loft and office space.  Two decades latter Reiss & Co. again altered the building to accommodate manufacturing on the upper floors.

In 1977 the Gorham Building was extensively renovated for residential apartments on the upper floors and the street level was returned to commercial use, the familiar home to Fishs Eddy since then.

Photograph cityrealty.com

The building was given New York City landmark status in 1984.