The Julia A. Shaw House - 41 West 74th Street

Architect Max Hensel designed a row of five brownstone-fronted homes on West 74th Street, between Central Park West and Columbus Avenue, for developer William H. Jacobs in  1889.  The A-B-A-B-A configuration meant, in fact, that he had to come up with only two designs.  

The 20-foot wide, four-story residences were completed in 1890.  The easternmost, No. 41 (an "A" design), featured a muscular box stoop that changed directions three times before reaching the entrance.   The doorway was flanked by two engaged columns, their stylized Corinthian capitals slightly different--one in the form of blooming flowers, the other of ferns.  They upheld a foliate-carved arched.  A rounded, three-window bay dominated the second floor.  A wide carved band ran between the third and fourth floors.

The house was originally identical to No. 45, seen here.

Jacob was certain he had sold No. 41 in June 1890.  The Real Record & Builders' Guide reported that Joseph Hammerslough and his wife Helen had paid $45,000 for the property.  But something went wrong.  On October 1 the Hammersloughs transferred the title back to William H. Jacobs.  The developer immediately sold it, however, to Julia A. Shaw.  She got a bit of a discount, paying $500 less than the Hammersloughs.  It was nevertheless a pricey transaction--equaling about $1.27 million today.

Julia A. Shaw was the widow of Samuel P. Shaw who had opened the block-engulfing Grand Union Hotel in 1869 with Simeon Ford.   Their business relationship expanded to a family relationship when Ford married the Shaws' daughter, Julia, in 1883.   The Shaws had two other children, Samuel T. and Joan B. Shaw.  Julia maintained a summer residence near Rye, New York on the Long Island Sound and a farm in Peekskill.

Two years after purchasing No. 41 Julia initiated a significant alteration.  In July 1892 she commissioned architect Francis H. Kimball to add an extension to the rear, rearrange the interior walls, and raise the upper floor  Unmentioned in the plans was the addition of a dramatic copper balcony.  The alterations cost Julia the equivalent of more than $85,000 today.  

Kimball's copper balcony may not have been architecturally congruous, but it was most definitely striking.

An astute business woman, she had managed the Grand Union Hotel following the death of her husband.  Like so many upscale hotels at the time, it welcomed both transient and permanent guests.  

In 1882 Carolan O'Brien Bryant had checked in with his two daughters.  A year earlier the girls had received $180,000 in the will of their grandfather, John Anderson--a hefty $4.56 million today.

While the family lived her, according to The Evening World, Julia "advanced money for the medical attendance of the daughters."  Most likely because she was aware of the fortunes coming to the girls, Julia also did not press for the rent on the suite of rooms.  But after the Bryants checked out in 1885 and dodged Julia's attempt for payment for nearly a decade, she took them to court.

On November 8, 1894 The Evening World entitled an article "Mrs. Shaw Wins" and reported that not only did Julia recover the $19,298.80 in rent and the loan; but Justice Barrett threw in another $1,108.51 for good measure.  Julia's judgment would equal nearly $670,000 today.

Julia's sister, Ann (known as "Annie") Twybill Allen was also a widow.  The two women summered together at Julia's Rye-on-the-Sound home.  As the summer of 1897 drew to a close Annie fell ill.  She was too sick to travel and as the other summer homes were closed up, the two women stayed on.  Then, on November 15 the 65-year-old Annie died.  Her funeral was held in the summer home; Julia arranging for carriages to meet mourners arriving from Grand Central Station.

Julia died at the Rye-on-the-Sound house on November 6, 1901.  Two days later carriages once again waited at the Rye train station for mourners arriving from Manhattan.

Julia's estate equaled about $15.8 million in today's dollars.  
She was generous to her servants in death, giving, for instance, $300 and $200 to maids Annie Darby and Kate O'Connor, respectively; and $100 to Maggie O'Neill, her dressmaker.  Annie's windfall was a little more than $9,000 by today's standards.

Joan received $25,000 and her sister, Julia, inherited the Rye residence.  Julia's husband, Simeon Ford, received $50,000.  Samuel was given the Peekskill farm and the West 74th Street house.  Julia was specific in her will about the fate of the Grand Union Hotel.

The New-York Tribune reported "the remainder of the estate, including the Grand Union Hotel, is left to Mrs. Shaw's children, and they are to run it.  The trustees named are Simeon Ford, Mrs. Julia E. Ford and Samuel T. Shaw.  They are to manage the hotel."

Julia and her husband had been well known as art connoisseurs and collectors.  Following her death the Julia A. Shaw Memorial Prize was established by the Society of American Artists.  It was annually presented "for the best work of art by an American woman."

Samuel Shaw did renovations to his mother's former home, and then leased it.  The first tenant was Louis B. Fleischmann and his family.  On July 24, 1902 The New York Times wrote "The Fleischmann home on Seventy-fourth Street has just been completed, and the family moved in some time ago."

In fact, the work was not totally completed.  On the day before the Times article there was a crew of a dozen "painters, carpenters, and frescoers" at work.  At the time all the family except son Charles were at their summer home in the Catskills.  The servants had accompanied the family, leaving only the housekeeper back to take care of things.  

Charles's mother and sister, Annie, came home briefly on the evening of July 23, so he hurried home from his Broadway office.  They all arrived at the house around 6:00.  When Charles went to his rooms on the third floor later that night he found that his door had been had jimmied open.

The Times reported "He said that he found that no great search had been made to the rooms, but that the thief had opened a drawer in a chiffoniere and secured a morocco case."  In that case were gold jewelry, diamond and pearl stickpins, a seal ring, and oddly enough, "a woman's ring, two pearls surrounded by diamonds."  Charles explained the ring "belonged to a friend, and he was rather at a loss as to how to explain its disappearance."

Samuel Shaw moved his family into No. 41 following the Fleischmanns' departure.  Their impressive summer estate was in Centre Island near Oyster Bay, Long Island, described by the New York Herald as "being "situated near the Seawanhaka Yacht club House, and just across the bay from President Roosevelt's residence."  The family was still there in October 1903--rather late in the season--when disturbing incidents began occurring.

One of the cows was "thrown and her legs tied up in a cruel manner" and then, according to the Herald, "one of Mr. Shaw's valuable dogs has been crippled by the same miscreant, it is believed.  The animal was either kicked or beaten."

The vandalism climaxed on the stormy night of October 11.  The Herald reported "The members of the family, comprising besides Mr. Shaw, Mrs. Shaw, four sons and an infant child, were asleep in the second story when Mrs. Shaw was awakened by a noise.  She aroused her husband."  The couple hurried downstairs to find one of the porches on fire.  Shaw ran through the house waking the servants and getting the family out of the burning house.

Because the season had ended, the district was "practically deserted," according to the newspaper, "and but little assistance could be had."  The house was destroyed, along with Mrs. Shaw's jewelry, rare rugs and paintings.  The personal loss (not including the house) was estimated at around $206,000 in today's money.

A reporter arrived at No. 41 West 74th Street a few days later.  Shaw told him "I am completely exhausted with the excitement and loss of sleep which I suffered on Saturday night."  He was asked if he thought the fire had been started by "some enemy."  Shaw replied "Any man who did what was done to my fox terrier would not stop at anything."

In 1905 Shaw was again leasing the house, now to the family of wealthy sand paper manufacturer Herman Behr.  The house was the scene of daughter Margaret's introduction to society at an afternoon reception on December 21 that year.

The following year Max Howell Behr was married to Evelyn B. Schley in mansion of the bride's parents at No. 845 Fifth Avenue.  Herman Hall Behr was his brother's best man.  

The family was still leasing the house when another son, Frederic, was married to Alice Cramer Vernam on December 4, 1907.  Like's his brother's wedding it took place in the bride's home, this time in Morristown, New Jersey.

The family's social status was evidenced when invitations arrived to the wedding of Beatrice Kobbe and Remond Demorest Little.  On January 9, 1907 the New-York Tribune listed the guests, including not only the Behrs, but socially-elite names like the August Belmonts, the Hamilton Fishes, Roosevelts, Livingstons, Whitneys and Frelinghuysens.

The Behrs remained at No. 41 until 1909, when Samuel T. Shaw offered the house to The Society of American Fakirs as its clubhouse.   An organization of students of the Art Student's League, "its principal function" according to The Evening Post, "is an exhibition caricaturing paintings hung in the annual spring exhibition of The National Academy."

The students, in other words, produced fakes of serious paintings.  An earlier catalog explained "A fake is a cold, cruel, remorseless, ridiculous swipe on the hard labor of an American artist.  It may be an intelligent criticism, or it may be flamdoolery."

Since its founding, the club had been loosely organized.  Shaw wanted to create officers, committees and an elective membership system.  On December 1, 1909 The Evening Post said he "gives his home for a term of three years, a sufficient time, he thinks, to test the practicability of the scheme.  The house is decorated by F. S. Church and C. C. Curran, and has a great many large rooms, which can be used for exhibitions or for clubrooms."

The club's housewarming took place on December 22.  The New-York Tribune reported "The feature of the evening was the presentation to Samuel T. Shaw, the founder of the club and the owner of the house, of a silver loving cup mounted on a square ebony base."

The Fakirs remained in the house for nearly two years, after which Shaw sold it to George Randolph Chester and his wife, Lillian E. Chester in September 1912 for $57,500 (just over $1.5 million today).   The title was put in Lillian's name.

Born in Cincinnati on January 27, 1869 Chester was an author, some of whose popular works were made into silent films.  His success in selling stories to The Saturday Evening Post had led him to relocate to New York.  A year before buying the 74th Street house, Chester's first wife, Elizabeth, discovered that he was living in London with American writer and widow Lillian Josephine Hauser DeRimo.  She filed for divorce and when Chester and Lillian received word that the divorce had been granted, they married.  The pair worked on collaborative stories and plays in No. 41, as well as individual works.    

The Chesters remained only two years.  In 1914 George leased the house to Echlin P. Gayer who was self-described as "the famous English actor and playwright."  He operated the home as what he described as "a novel and charming idea in metropolitan living," the Kenilworth House.  "Neither a hotel nor a boarding house, a most unique furnished private residence for the connoisseur of luxury."   Those renting suites would enjoy "sumptuous furnishings and appointments automatic electric elevator...instantaneous hot water service day and night."  He listed electric lights, steam head, phones in every suite, and four English servants as amenities.

But it appears that the Chesters were not pleased with their property being used as a de facto hotel.  A multi-day auction was held within the house in December that year.  The announcement touted the "artistic and exquisite furniture, art treasures and appointments contained in the palatial residence of Echlin Gayer, Esq."

The residence continued to house wealthy families.  In 1928 it was home to Grace Tumbridge Mason, whose ex-husband, millionaire John W. Tumbridge was the former owner of the Hotel St. George in Brooklyn.  The former Grace Goudie, once a Brooklyn debutante, she lived here with her 13-year-old daughter, also named Grace.  That year Grace took her former husband to court in an attempt to have the amount of her daughter's support increased.

"She wanted the girl to live amid the comfort and advantages that generally are the lot of a millionaire's child," explained the Brooklyn, Standard Union on October 27, 1928.   But the stress of appearing in court, not to mention seeing her husband's new wife there, was too much for Grace.

The Standard Union began its article dramatically, saying "A mother's life, snuffed out amid tragic and dramatic circumstances, is the toll chalked up to-day in her futile battle against her Brooklyn millionaire ex-husband to win ease and luxury for her poor-little-rich-girl daughter."  As charges "flew back and forth," Grace had become enraged at Tumbridge "and leaped from the witness stand and lunged at him, swooning to the floor as she did so."  Grace never regained consciousness."

Two more families would live in the house while it was still a private home.  Mary E. Gould, widow of Arthur Gould, lived here until her death at the age of 74 in August 1941.  She was followed by Roger Andrews and his wife, Eleanor.  

Then a renovation completed in 1954 resulted in two apartments on each floor.  The stoop was removed and the entrance lowered to the former basement level.  The brownstone facade was painted white.

Even the copper balcony was painted white.  photo via corcoran.com

Things turned around in 2010 when a restoration was initiated.  Brazilian oil executive Paolo Gouveas converted the house to a lavish two-family dwelling--re-fabricating the lost stoop, stripping the paint, and adding a few amenities that would have amazed Julia A. Shaw.  A real estate listing in 2014 noted "The five-bedroom, twelve-room home boasts a garden, courtyard, elevator, roof deck, gym, hot tub, two full-grade chef's kitchens and a wine cellar."

photographs by the author

The Lost Harrigan's Theatre -- No. 67 West 35th Street

The Greater New York Album pictured the theatre in 1895, just before the name was changed.  (copyright expired)

In 1890 Edward Harrigan could do it all when it came to the theater.  He had earned his reputation as an actor, vaudevillian, playwright, composer and theater manager.  Born in New York of Irish parents, he traveled to San Francisco just after the Civil War.  Here the 22-year old began his stage career, singing comic songs in a saloon.  Within a few years, in Chicago, he formed a stage partnership with Anthony J. Cannon, whose stage name was Tony Hart.

Edward Harrigan

As Harrigan & Hart their blackface and tenement class German and Irish characters comically depicted everyday street life of New York City.  In 1872 Harrigan developed an ongoing act that became the pair’s staple—The Mulligan Guard.  Harrigan & Hart’s overwhelming popularity was due to the duo’s ability to depict real life issues of common people in the city—interracial and class differences, gang terrorism, political and police corruption—in a comical presentation.

In 1881 Harrigan hired Francis H. Kimball to renovate the Church of the Messiah at No. 728 Broadway as the Theatre Comique.  Only three years later it burned to the ground.  Shortly thereafter the team of Harrigan & Hart dissolved with Tony Hart retiring. 

The break-up came at a time when theater audiences were changing.  As the 1880s drew to a close, the younger generation of theater-goers did not identify with the characters Harrigan & Hart had depicted.   

By the time Harrigan and his acting company returned from a tour in California in 1889, the entertainment district was gradually inching northward from 23^rd Street; eventually to settle around Times Square.

Edward Harrigan embarked on a project to build a new, lavish theater for his company.  He came across a vacant African American Methodist church at 35^th Street and Sixth Avenue.  In its place Harrigan once again commissioned Francis H. Kimball to design a lavish new theater.   As Kimball’s new structure neared completion in November 1890, the Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide made note of the Italian Renaissance-inspired design.   “For a long time past the favorite copy-book to which [American architects] have turned for inspiration or something in default of it has been the Romanesque, and it must be acknowledged that though a considerable amount of very credible work has been done in that style; there has been, however, very little vitality in the work.” 

On the other hand, the Guide recognized in the new Harrigan Theatre a fresh trend.  “We may see how rapidly we are running towards the rusticated, pedimented, corniced, festooned, balustrade, pilastered, columned style of building.”

On December 5, 1890 The New York Times said “This house promises to be one of the coziest and prettiest places of amusement in the city.  It is necessarily small, as it is constructed on a lot 75 by 100 feet, but all the space has been so admirably utilized that there will be ample room for as many people as Mr. Harrigan cares to have at one of his performances.”

Edward Harrigan preferred small auditoriums, feeling that “the spectators are brought into closer and more sympathetic connection with the players,” creating a more effective delivery of the play.  Nevertheless, the new theater would accommodate a substantial audience of 915.

Kimball clad the theater in red brick abundantly ornamented with terra cotta.  The New York Times said “This terra cotta has the effect of white marble, and this is the first instance of its use for such a purpose in America.”   Various theatrical motifs were molded into the terra cotta and a large panel announced “HARRIGAN’S THEATRE.”  Two stained glass windows depicted the figures of Mulligan and Pete, two of Harrigan’s most famous roles; and in the frieze were 80 heads representing difference facial expressions. 

On January 28, 1893, when the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide published this photograph, West 35th Street around the theater was still lined with brownstone homes (copyright expired)

The interior was as lavishly ornamented as the façade.  “Panels and fluted pilasters with carved capitals are abundant,” reported The New York Times.  “The floor of the vestibule will be in mosaics.  All the lobby woodwork and plaster will be in an ivory tone except that the walls will be in soft blues and dull reds with stencil work in silver and gold.”  Two stairways led off either end of the lobby to the balcony.

The balcony and the galleries were ornamented with heavy molded plasterwork.  “Around the upper portion of the walls will be a frieze with panels and fluted pilasters, the panels to bear ornaments and stencils in gold and silver.  Above this frieze the ceiling starts with a succession of groins, enriched with figures and ornaments in relief.  The figures are of women upholding festoons and garlands.”

The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide published sketches of the façade and interior on February 21, 1891.  Spanish tiles protected the roof and electric lights illuminated the interior (copyright expired)

Frescoes depicting Poetry, History, Comedy, Music, Tragedy and other allegories of the theater decorated the spaces between the groins.  Above the audience the domed ceiling was encrusted with plaster festoons of fruits and flowers and from the center hung a 40-light chandelier.  In 1890 the reliability of electricity was iffy at best and the chandelier was “surrounded by a circle of gas jets to be used in case of necessity,” advised The New York Times.

According to the newspaper, the architect was happy with his completed structure.  “Mr. Kimball is satisfied with his work.  He is the architect of the Madison Square Theatre, the Casino, the Harrigan and Hart’s old Theatre Comique.  He feels that the fruits of his experience in building these theatres have been fully utilized in his latest structure.  Mr. Harrigan will open the theatre with a new play written by himself.”

Two weeks later, on December 22, Harrigan’s Theatre opened.  In his opening day advertisement in The Sun, Harrigan called it “The most exquisite play house in America.”  The ad said “Mr. Edward Harrigan will inaugurate his New and Beautiful Theatre with his latest work Reilly And The 400.”

“The 400” was a reference to Ward McAllister’s newly published book Society as I Found It in which he estimated the number of Manhattan’s most socially elite at 400.  Edward Harrigan played the title role of Willy Reilly, an Irish pawnbroker attempting to elbow his way into society.

The play and the theater were a success.  On July 7, 1891, The New York Times noted “At Harrigan’s, “Reilly and the 400” is still drawing excellent business, and Manager Hanley has not yet found it necessary to announce the close of his season.  The play is now in its sixth month.”

For the next five years theater in New York struggled, due mostly to the Financial Panic of 1893 and 1896.  Harrigan dredged up tried-and-true plays including the Mulligan series; although he peppered the fare with a few new productions like The Woolen Stockings.

In 1894, when Harrigan advertised in The New York Clipper Annual, he still called the theater America's "most exquisite."  (copyright expired)

On March 21, 1893 The New York Times reviewed one of the revived Mulligan plays, Cordelia’s Aspirations.  The critic deftly avoided overly-criticizing the production, saying that a Mulligan play would not be a success without Harrigan in it.  “But there is no need to criticise or analyze a ‘Mulligan’ play.  They are all amusing and they are different from anything else put on the stage in their time.”

Directly below the review was an unrelated article noting that popular actor Richard Mansfield had returned to New York “after a long absence.”  Mansfield and Harrigan would soon cross paths at Harrigan’s Theatre.

In 1895 Mansfield took over the theater, renaming it the Garrick.  Harrigan went back to his roots, performing vaudeville at Proctor’s Twenty-Third Street Theatre, Tony Pastor’s, and Koster & Bials.  He would go on writing and performing until March 16, 1910 when he made his final bow at the age of 66.  He died the following year.

The new Garrick Theatre opened on April 23, 1895 with what The New York Times called “the presentation of a work by an Irishman of slightly different ilk—‘Arms and the Man, by Bernard Shaw.”  A year later Mansfield hired the well-known theatrical producer Charles Frohman to manage the Garrick.  Frohman, despite his many other endeavors, maintained control of the Garrick until 1915.  Among the greatest successes during this time was Sherlock Holmes, starring William Gillette.  The play opened in 1899 and ran for over a year.  On January 28, 1900 the New-York Tribune wrote of the nightly audiences “at the Garrick Theatre where William Gillette is still playing ‘Sherlock Holmes,’ with the house as full at every performance as it was the first week—that is to say, as full as it could be.”

The same newspaper wrote a florid review of The Sign of the Rose on October 12, 1911.  “Melodrama, whose death has been taken for granted for some time, although, it is true, it has never  been officially announced, arose phoenixlike from the ashes last night at the Garrick Theatre in George Beban’s semi-Italian play, ‘The Sign of the Rose,’ in which the author undertook the leading character.  It is one of those dramas in which ‘local color’ plays the star part, and in ‘The Sign of the Rose’ local color is so thick you could not scrape it off with a palette knife.”

Another highly successful and memorable production was that of The Little Minister with famous stage actress Maude Adams.

When Frohman left the Garrick, the Shuberts purchased the theater.  They leased it to millionaire Otto Kahn who had visions of a grand French theater in Manhattan.  He renamed it the Theatre du Vieux-Colombier.  On February 8, 1918 the New-York Tribune, in reviewing La Traverse, offered its own opinion of the French fare offered here.

“The management of the Theatre du Vieux-Columbier departed from its honored practice of giving bizarre and exotic plays taken from the repertory of the realist theatres of Paris by giving its habitués a real ‘premiere’ never before presented either at the Grand Guignol or the Theatre de l’Oeuvre and by an author of as yet obscure name, Auguste Villery.”

By now the theater district was firmly planted ten blocks to the north in Times Square.  The popularity of the theater declined around the time of World War I.  In 1919 Kahn donated the aging theater to the newly-formed Theatre Guild “just fresh from the workshops of Washington Square,” as noted in The New York Times.

The Guild opened its first season on April 14, 1919 with Bonds of Interest by Jacinto Benaventa.  For the next seven years the Theatre Guild called the old Harrigan Theatre home.  It produced nearly the entire repertory of Bernard Shaw’s plays, along with works by Molnar, Milne, Strindberg and others.

Although the Provincetown Playhouse company also presented several plays in the old house; it was had become outdated, drafty and dingy.  Around 1930 the theater was taken over by the Columbia Burlesque Company “and thenceforth the once dignified stage was a platform for dancing girls and slap-stick comedians,” said The New York Times.

In 1931 even the burlesque company abandoned the old Harrigan’s Theatre and it sat vacant, dark, and neglected on the corner of Herald Square.

The end came on Valentine’s Day 1932 at 3:00 in the morning.  Fire broke out in the deserted building which quickly spread to two alarms.  Despite the early hour, hundreds crowded along Broadway and Sixth Avenue to watch the venerable old theater burn.

When morning dawned, Edward Harrigan’s once-proud theater was a smoldering shell.  It was demolished to be replaced by a 16-story bank and office building.

photograph by the author

The 1887 Catholic Apostolic Church -- No. 417 W 57th St.

photo by Alice Lum

In the late 1820s the Reverend Edward Irving was pastor of the Scottish Church on Regent Square in London.  But Edward Irving had an epiphany and broke away from the church, founding the Catholic Apostolic Church.  Irving was “deposed” from the church and “the members are sometimes called Irvingites on this account,” explained The New York Times more than half a century later.

In 1887, Frank Leslie’s Sunday Magazine would call it “one of the oddest denominations in the world.”  The strongest belief of the new sect was that the Second Coming was right around the corner—precisely it would come about in 1835.

Twelve “apostles” were chosen and only they had the power to ordain priests and bishops, called “angels”.  When 1835 came and went without the Second Coming, the church simply revised its calculations and moved on; eventually branching out to New York City in 1848.

The small brick church in Greenwich Village that the new congregation took over was sufficient until 1885 when the growing membership necessitated a larger structure.   In 1885 the Catholic Apostolic Church sold its West 16^th Street building to the Eglise Evangelique Francaise and laid plans for a new building further uptown.

On July 1 of that year The Sun reported on the planned structure.  “The Catholic Apostolic Church, which for thirty years has worshipped in a little building in Sixteenth street, between Sixth and Seventh avenues, is building a new church on Fifty-seventh street, near Ninth avenue.  It will cost about $50,000.  The corner stone was laid yesterday.”

photo by Alice Lum

The newspaper made note that the sect was still not wide-spread.  “This is the only Catholic Apostolic church in the city.  There is one in Boston, and there are three in Connecticut and seven in London.”

Although the cornerstone was laid there was the matter of paying for the structure.   The $50,000 which The Sun predicted the church would cost equates to around $1 million today.  On November 12, 1886 The New York Times reported that “The Church Building Trust Association has been incorporated ‘to establish a place in this city for the purpose of enabling the ministers and baptized people acknowledging the ecclesiastical authority of the College of Apostles, heretofore having its headquarters at Albury, England, to conduct Christian worship according to the doctrine of the Catholic Apostolic church.”

Francis Hatch Kimball was given the commission to design a new church building at No. 417 West 57^th Street.  Actual construction began in 1886 and was completed a year later.   The architect created a singular design that refused to be categorized in any pre-existing architectural category.  Kimball mixed materials—orange brick, terra cotta, brownstone, and tile—and styles—Gothic Revival and Renaissance Revival with a splash of Queen Anne.  The result was a hefty presence of arches and spires, textures and angles.  The Sun said there was “a touch of Byzantine style in its façade.”  Like its congregation, the church building was quite unlike any other in the city.

photo by Alice Lum

The Sun said “The interior has much in common with the early Christian basilicas.  Its seating capacity does not exceed four hundred…The low pulpit stands in the nave, while the chancel has many prie dieux.  The seats are high-backed.”

The congregation was worshiping in its new home by the beginning of the year.  The priests delivered morning and evening sermons every Sunday.  The topics are somewhat surprising to modern minds, like one on February 27, 1887—“Will Jesus Christ every really be King in the United States?”

Brick, brownstone and terra cotta work together in the eccentric design -- photo by Alice Lum

Two weeks earlier, Rev. Davenport had predicted the end of the world in his sermon “The Terrible Calamities which Threaten Europe and America.”  Using the fourth chapter of Matthew in which Christ lays out the steps to the world’s end, Davenport pointed out that they had all come to pass.

The Times recapped:  “The first age, that of persecution, when martyrs bore terrible witness to the faith that was in them; the second that of internal dissension, when the chiefs of the church were set against each other; the third when false prophets arose and preached liberty and equality and all manner of impossible things, and the fourth that of lawlessness, when in consequence of false teachers men had lost the fear of God—all these were exact verifications of the evil signs foretold by the great prophet, Christ.”

The evening services were deemed “special services for strangers,” and were perhaps a means of recruiting new members.  The subject of the special service on March 13, 1887 was “The End of the Age.”

As in 1835, neither the end of the world nor the Second Coming came to pass.

The Sun later noted that “That church is always open and rarely empty.  Men and women enter at all hours of the day, fall on their knees in one of the pews, remain immovable for a few minutes and depart quietly.  To the outsider it seems as if some kind of service was going on all the time.”

On December 4, 1893 The New York Times attempted to explain the functioning of the Catholic Apostolic Church. Of the twelve apostles Francis V. Woodhouse only was still living.  “Woodhouse is over eighty,” said the newspaper.  “The New-York church has at its head the Angel, and under him a long list of elders, priests, deacons, sub-deacons, a deaconesses.  The latter officiate in acts of charity and render assistance particularly to the women of the parish.”

The article described the service.  “It is impressive, not so ceremonious as in some of the ritualistic Episcopal churches, but requiring more assistants.  The vestments are very rich.  At one side of the chancel is the throne, which is the seat of the angel.  Angel is the old word, as used in the book of Revelation for the Bishop of a church, and throughout the Bible in the correct sense, of messenger, spiritual or otherwise.

“The Catholic Apostolic Church has also an order of Archangels, whose office is above that of the Angels.  They govern single churches.   Angel evangelists are visiting Angels…An ordination to the priesthood does not confer the title of Reverend upon the candidate unless it had previously belonged to him.  Thus, the angel of the New-York Church is Stephen Rintoul, while an assistant is the Rev. C. A. G. Bridgham.”

The newspaper brought up a question rarely spoken among congregants.  “What is to be done when this remaining head of the Church shall die has not been revealed, but there is no lack of faith that either the last days will come or new Apostles be appointed.”

The church in 1929 -- photo NYPL Collection

Six years later, with the last apostle Frances Vilton Woodhouse now 95 years old, six evangelists headed to New York City in anticipation of the Second Coming.   On November 19, 1899 The Sun wrote “It is difficult to connect this quiet, incense-filled church with the gigantic posters that appeared suddenly on all the signboards of this city about five weeks ago forcing upon the curious and the indifference alike an announcement of ‘the near coming of the Lord’ and noticed of a series of evangelistic meetings to be held every Sunday evening at six different places simultaneously.”

The newspaper said “The present activity, which has resulted in the dispatching of six evangelists to this country, seems to have been caused by the expectation that Christ’s promise to his first apostles must be fulfilled before the last member of the second apostleship passes away.”

The church was correct in anticipating Woodhouse’s passing—he died within the year—however once again neither the end of the world nor the Second Coming came to pass.   There was no longer anyone with the power to ordain priests or perform the duties of the head of the church.  Woodhouse’s death ushered in “the time of silence” during which congregants would wait for divine direction.

photo by Alice Lum

In 1942 attention was focused on a more earthly issue.  In the sweltering summer heat, city residents often sought relief by sleeping on fire escapes and rooftops.  On July 18 two girls—Ann Smith and Myrtle Rosengrants, aged 11 and 16 years old—went to the roof of their apartment building next door at No. 415 West 57^th Street.  “Frightened by the appearance on the roof of a strange man, the girls…backed up to the edge of the building, stumbled over the one-foot safety wall and fell twenty-five feet from the roof of their home…to the church roof,” reported The Times.

The two terrified girls clung to the tiled roof of the Catholic Apostolic Church while neighbors called police.   Emergency squad detectives Thomas Childs and Joseph Demas donned safety belts on the apartment building roof.  “Demas lowered himself by Childs’s arms and dropped to the church roof.  The younger girl, Ann, fainted as he reached her,” said the newspaper.

After the girls were hoisted to the roof of their building, they were taken to Roosevelt Hospital.  They both had broken left arms.

The time of silence lasted throughout the 20^th century.  By 1995 the decimated congregation realized it could no longer sustain the venerable edifice.  Fearful that the church building would be converted to a club or retail space, it offered it to the Lutheran Life’s Journey Ministries.

The Lutheran Church initiated a restoration of the 110-year old church, cleaning the façade and replacing any missing terra cotta elements.  Architect Andrew Levenbaum spearheaded the renovation of the interior space.    A bizarre discovery was made in the basement when the original terra cotta cross from the roof was found buried below three feet of soil.

photo by Alice Lum

Restored, Kimball’s wonderful building was rededicated in 1997 as the Church for All Nations—a surprising gem on an otherwise mundane block.

The Lost 1882 Casino Theatre -- 39th Street and Broadway

Postcard from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York  http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=1

In 1882 New York City’s entertainment and theater district was firmly rooted along 23^rd Street.  But that year Rudolph Aronson made a daring and risky move.  He built a grandiose theater sixteen blocks to the north—far too remote to be successful, according to common opinion.

Aronson, who was a prolific composer, had been the manager of the Metropolitan Concert Hall.  Now he sought to create a venue for mostly light musicals and operetta.   He convinced influential Manhattan businessmen—among them Jay Gould, Louis C. Tiffany, Cornelius Vanderbilt and J. P. Morgan—to finance the precarious project.   Architects Francis Kimball and Thomas Wisedell were given the commission to design the uptown theater.  And if the location did not draw patrons, the architecture certainly did.

The fantastic structure sat at the southeast corner of Broadway and 39^th Street and was called by some “the best example of Moorish architecture in the country.”  The description was a bit overstated, but the brick and terra cotta building was indeed eye-catching.

In 1896, when this photograph was taken, the roof garden had been added -- Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York, http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=1

Horseshoe arches, arcades and a soaring corner tower combined to make the theater unlike any other of the time.  The architects compounded the Moorish theme inside with brilliant metallic colors, a jewel-laced velvet stage curtain, boxes encrusted with carved arabesque patterns, and an intricate auditorium ceiling of fans, arches and filigree details.

The ornate plasterwork was studded with artificial jewels -- Byron Company, photo from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York, http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=1

Aronson’s forward thinking resulted in firsts for New Yorkers.  The 1,300 seat theater would become the first in to be lit by electricity.  It boasted an attractive café; it too smothered in Moorish detailing.

Opening night was on October 21, 1882 with the Strauss operetta Queen’s Lace Handkerchief.    Unfortunately, it was a stormy night and construction had not been completed.  Well-dressed patrons sat below a dripping ceiling.  Despite the less-its less than perfect debut, the theater endured.

Fancy wicker furniture (albeit non-matching) furnished the orchestra boxes.  An electric fan provided air circulation -- Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=1

Aronson’s initial productions were lavish adaptations of European and British comic operas.   The gamble paid off.  Later The New York Times would remark that “The Casino became the recognized home of light and comic opera in New York.”  Aronson scored tremendous hits with Nell Gwynn and the enormously successful Erminie which ran some 1,200 performances.

The Moorish motif spread into the cafe -- Byron Company, p hoto from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York  http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=1

Throughout the years the Casino would be responsible for the stardom of entertainers like Lillian Russell, De Wolf Hopper, Jefferson De Angelis, Marie Dressler and Francis Wilson.  In 1890 Aronson introduced another first—the first roof garden in the country.  The breeze-cooled roof venue meant that Aronson could operate year-round.

The roof garden audience stands to get a glimpse of the performance -- photo by Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=1

That same year unknown Italian composer Pietro Mascagni took Rome by storm when his Cavalleria Rusticana won a competition staged by publisher Edoardo Sonzogno.  The one-act opera premiered on May 17, 1890 in the Teatro Costanzi and was a phenomenal triumph.  It was just the sort of production Aronson looked for.

photo by Bryan Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=1

On October 1, 1891 The Casino premiered Cavalleria Rusticana in America with a matinee performance.  That evening Oscar Hammerstein opened his house with a production of the same opera.  It created what The New York Times would gently describe as “a famous incident.”

The mosaic floor of the lobby imitated an Oriental carpet -- Kurtz Brothers, photo from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=1

In 1894 came another first.  The Passing Show was the first American revue.  Then four years later the roof garden staged the premier of The Origin of the Cake Walk; or Clorindy.  It was the first African-American musical to be presented before a white audience.

The Casino would break ground again in 1899 when it staged the English musical Floradora.  It introduced the chorus line to America and became one of the most famous productions in Broadway history.  The “Floradora Girls” ignited the trend of chorus girl revues that lasted throughout the 20^th century.

Floradora would become on of Broadway's greatest hits -- Byron Company, photo from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=1

So popular was the beautiful chorus line that a musical, The Casino Girl, was written in 1900, based on the fictitious exploits of one of the girls.

Early in February that year the curtain caught fire from the footlights during a performance.  One patron described the scene.  “The house was packed, with seats all full and hundreds standing in the rear.  As the flames spread and crackled it was almost beyond human sense to hope for safety.” 

Cool heads prevailed however.  “The men on the stage acted with the utmost coolness, and must have credit for their share in averting a calamity, but their bravery would have availed little had not their efforts been seconded by the people on the floor.  At the first sign of fire men in all parts of the house stood up on the seats and urged the people to keep cool and not stampede.

“Women, more excitable, as a rule, attempted to make their way to the rear, but men stood in the aisles and prevented a stampede and panic  It was a spectacle to make every one proud of our American type of manhood.”

Disaster was averted; but five years later the theater, now managed by the Shubert organization, would be less lucky.  On February 12, 1905 The New York Times reported that “Broadway between Herald Square and Times Square was thrown into wild excitement shortly after noon yesterday by a fire in the Casino Theatre, where Lillian Russell has been playing in ‘Lady Teazle.’”

Over one hundred chorus girls were in the house rehearsing, but everyone escaped unharmed.  The theater itself did not fare as well.   Stage hands scrambled to rescue props and expensive sets.

“Seldom has Thirty-ninth Street witnessed such a scene,” said The Times.  “Out of the stage entrance came a line of men, bearing everything, from pink silk slippers to bulky scenery…There were the ancestral portraits which Charles Surface auctions off  in the play and silk goods of every hue.  There were beflowered skirts and powdered wigs, decanters, ribbons, and petticoats, picture hats—and everything else that has any part in the setting of ‘Lady Teazle.’”

Although the magnificent auditorium was not threatened by the fire, it was heavily damaged by water.  “After the firemen turned off their hose it was more like a swimming pool than a theatre,” said the newspaper.  “The red plush seats had become red sponges, the marble floors were three or four inches deep in water, and streams fell from the ceiling to add to the flood.”

The serious damage prompted Fire Chief Croker to tell reporters that “the fire would lead to certain alterations that the Fire Department had long demanded.”  Lillian Russell looked on the bright side.

“Just think of what it would have been two hours later.  Personally, I consider that I got off very light.  Not only was I not in the fire, but my costumes, valued at about $5,000, were all saved. Lillian Spencer, a girl who played with me thirteen years ago, got them out of my dressing room.”

The building was closely examined by the fire department and the main structure was deemed “absolutely perfect.”   Nevertheless it would be ten full months before the renovated theater reopened. 

Over the next two decades the Casino would stage memorable performances like Vagabond King in 1925 and Desert Song the following year.  It was also the highly-anticipated scene every year of the Kiddie Klub Christmas performance.  The management donated the use of theater for free Christmas presentations for New York children. 

The operators of the Kiddie Klub understandably desired to maintain good favor with the Casino.  On December 12, 1922 it reminded its little club members that “There are one or two ways in which we can show our gratitude to Messrs. Shubert for having given us their fine, big playhouse.  The first is to be very quiet and well behaved, another is to keep the theatre clean.”

Ironically, by the time of the Great Depression, the Casino Theatre was again in a remote neighborhood from the entertainment district.  On January 4, 1930 The Times reported that “The Casino, once the furthest north of the uptown playhouses, has seen the theatrical district march by it, until now, with the passing of the Knickerbocker, only the Garrick, of the so-called Broadway theatres, remains below it.”

The theater, which the newspaper said “has housed some of the biggest musical comedy successes of the American theatre,” was doomed.  “Lee Shubert said yesterday that he understood the theatre would be torn down and a large commercial structure erected on its site.”

photo by Bryon Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1G3M68RH&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=1

Two weeks later the final performance was held.  The Times reported “With a performance by the American Opera Company of ‘Faust’ last night at the Casino Theatre, the career of that house was brought to a close after almost fifty years in which it had been devoted principally to musical productions.”

In place of the Casino Theatre rose a soaring modern office building.  Before long the theater that introduced the roof garden, the chorus line, African-American casts and electrically-lit theaters to American audiences was forgotten.

photo by the author