The Lost New York Hospital, West 15th Street near 5th Avenue

 

Illustrate New York City and Surroundings, 1889 (copyright expired)

The concept of the "usefulness and necessity of a public hospital" in New York City was introduced by Samuel Bard in 1769 in his address to the first two doctors to graduate from King's College.  Two years later, King George III granted a royal charger to establish The Society of the New York Hospital in the City of New York in America.  Delayed by the war, the hospital finally opened on January 3, 1791 on Broadway between Duane and Worth Streets.

The original New York Hospital Building on Broadway.  Annual Report of the New York Hospital 1922, (copyright expired)

In the years following the end of the Civil War, the New York Hospital had outgrown its building.  In 1875 lots were purchased in the fashionable neighborhood of Fifth Avenue and 15th Street.  As construction of the building began, the trustees expanded the project.  On April 4, 1876, the New York Herald reported, "During the year, the society has purchased four additional lots on Fifteenth street and Fifth avenue for the purpose of extending the frontage of the new hospital now being built."

Architect George B. Post, who would design the massive Cornelius Vanderbilt II mansion just two years later, turned to the French Gothic style for this project.  Seven stories tall,  it was faced in brick and trimmed with gray sandstone.  Its top floor detonated with fletches, pyramidal caps and dormers.  Deep, iron-railed balconies fronted the third through fifth floors on either side of the central pavilion.  Here, said The New York Times, "convalescent patients can go out and sit in the window seats and watch the stream of travel and traffic through the street."  The newspaper wrote, "Spires and finials break the severity of the outline against the sky and give the building a pleasing finish.  Rows of lofty windows with stained-glass transoms cross and recross the front."

Construction was completed early in 1877 and the building officially opened on March 16.  The New-York Tribune wrote, "Four thousand invitations had been issued for the opening ceremonies, and it seemed as if a majority of the invited persons were present.  In view of the disagreeable snow-storm the attendance of ladies was large."  The article said that following the addresses, the guests "had an opportunity to inspect its almost palatial halls."  Dr. William H. Van Buren gave the long speech, which recapped  the history of the hospital, its advances in medicine, and its famous practitioners.  Victorian oratory was routinely lengthy by 21st century perspectives, and it took its toll on one audience member.  The article said, "During the delivery of the address happened a sad case of somnolence; a gentleman of mature age dropped into rhythmic snoring, and caused a smile to ripple over the vast audience."

Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, March 31, 1877 (copyright expired)

The project totaled $900,000 (including the land, building, furniture and fixtures,), a staggering $24 million in 2022.  The hospital had been designed as a modern facility with scientific innovations.  Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper called the building "absolutely fireproof," saying, "The only wood employed in its construction is in the doors.  The flooring throughout is composed of tiles laid in cement on iron beams."  Astonishingly, the walls were composed of "iron and sand, with iron lathing."  

Airborne bacteria and odors were removed from wards through an ingenious system of air ducts.  In his 1893 Hospitals and Asylums of The World, Henry C. Burdett wrote, "In the New York Hospital the registers for the exit of fouled air are placed in the floor, one beneath each bed, and from these openings horizontal flues beneath the floor lead to the vertical four-air shafts built in the thick outer walls."   

The glass-ceilinged top floor was outfitted as a "solatrium," or "sun-bath."  In its April 1878 issue, Frank Leslie's Sunday Magazine said it was "flooded with sunlight" and patients could enjoy "a conservatory of rare plants and flowers, and fresh and salt water aquaria containing every variety of aquatic life, from the lower to the highest grades."

Patients and visitors sit among tropical plants in the solarium.  Their voluminous Victorian costumes raise questions about how beneficial the sunlight was.  Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, March 31, 1877 (copyright expired)

A month's outpatient treatment cost $1, unless the patient could not afford to pay.  Patients requiring in-house treatment were charged $1 per day for a ward bed and $15 to $50 a week for a private room ($1,330 for the most expensive by today's standards).  The regulations said, "All persons applying for free service must bring a note, or other evidence, from some well-known citizen that their inability to pay does not arise from improvidence or dissipation."

Despite its cutting-edge amenities, the hospital engaged in selected practices that would seem barbarous today.  On August 8, 1877, Mary Tait was brought in with two stab wounds in the abdomen.  The woman was far advanced in her pregnancy.  Two days later she delivered a still-born male child.  The house surgeon and the deputy coroner autopsied the infant and ruled "its death was the result of the mother's injuries," according to The New York Times.  Mary Tait was discharged from the hospital nearly two weeks later.

Hospital Management reprinted a vintage sketch of the Children's Ward in 1923.  (copyright expired)

The keeper of the Morgue received a burial permit for the infant, and sent a request for the body to the New York Hospital.  Losing patience, three days later he sent a wagon to retrieve the corpse.  On August 26, The New York Times reported, "When Dan Russel, the driver of the wagon, called at the New-York Hospital, he was told by the clerk that he guessed the body had been thrown into the furnace."  A reporter from the newspaper called upon Dr. Knight, the hospital surgeon who had helped in the autopsy.  "The Doctor declared that he could not tell what had become of the child, but it was not at all improbable that it had been cremated.  Supposing that it might have occurred, he could see nothing improper in it."

The New York Hospital continued to keep up with advancements.  On Christmas Eve 1889, it became the first hospital in the city to be illuminated with electric lights.  The New York Times wrote, "The New-York Hospital presented an extraordinary appearance last night for an institution with which bright and cheerful scenes are seldom associated...The whole building was lit up with incandescent electric lights."  The change from gas to electricity went beyond mere modernity.  The article explained:

Sanitary motives alone dictated the change, for it was thought that a better and more even temperature could be maintained and a less vitiated atmosphere be secured in the wards, where these are all important, than with the use of gas.  There would be no consumption of the oxygen with the electric lights, as there had always been with gaslights, and so the change was made.

The lighting was intensified in the operating rooms by "movable reflectors."  They enabled surgeons to operate at any hour of the night with the same brilliance as during the day.

Following disasters, the doctors and nurses of the New York Hospital flew into emergency mode.  Such was the case on May 27, 1902 when throngs lined Fifth Avenue to view a parade for the French delegation to celebrate Rochambeau Day.  More than 100 persons crowded onto a temporary wooden sidewalk bridge over a half-block-long excavation.  Their weight was too great, and it collapsed, plummeting them 20 feet onto jagged rocks and wooden beams.   The New-York Tribune reported that surgeons from the New York Hospital rushed to the scene to treat the injured on site.

Three years later, on January 7, 1905, a disaster occurred at the Metropolitan Opera House.  The New-York Tribune reported, "With a crash which brought most of the audience of the Metropolitan Opera House to their feet in alarm, a stage bridge, part of the scenery of the first act of "Carmen," collapsed suddenly last night, throwing fifteen members of the chorus to the stage."  Doctors at the New York Hospital were shortly treating members of the cast, dressed in their operatic costumes.

The New York Hospital building in 1922.  Annual Report of the New York Hospital (copyright expired)

On May 8, 1927, The New York Times encapsulated the contributions of the New York Hospital, saying:

It has been active in the care of sick and wounded in all the wars in which the country has been engaged.  It took part in checking the typhoid epidemics at some of the camps during the Spanish War, and in the World War it maintained at Chateauroux United States Base Hospital No. 9, caring for 15,000 cases...Peace-time epidemics, from the early days of yellow fever and cholera down to the more recent one of infantile paralysis and influenza, have also been kept in check and investigated.

At the time of the article, the days of the venerable structure were numbered.  On February 6, 1929, The New York Times reported, "The New York Hospital and Cornell Medical College are creating a new medical centre on land fronting on the East River between Sixty-eighth and Seventieth Streets."  The cornerstone of the new New York Hospital and Cornell Medical College (which would eventually become the Weill Cornell Medical Center), was laid on June 12, 1930.  

image via realtyhop.com

The old New York Hospital was replaced by a three-story apartment building, completed in 1935.  That was demolished for the 12-story Chelsea Lane Apartments, completed in 1964.

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Rouse & Goldstone's 1907 810 Broadway

 

The Thomas Faye family had purchased the land at 810 Broadway in 1820.  By the 1890's their former residence, like the other once elegant homes in the area, had been converted for business.  When it was sold in June 1906, the Record & Guide commented, "This is the first time the property has changed hands in 86 years."

The buyer, Samuel Mandel, was president of the Apartment Construction Co.  But this site was not destined for an apartment building.  On February 2, 1907, the Record & Guide reported that the architectural firm of Rouse & Goldstone was designing an "8-story loft building" to cost $150,000 (or about $4.25 million today).

Completed before year's end, the building was a commercial take on the French Gothic style.  Now nine stories with the mansard roof, its tripartite design included a two-story, cast iron storefront with vast show windows.  The iron-framed windows of the four-story mid-section created, essentially, a glass wall framed by an elliptical arch.    Stylized Gothic elements decorated the top section--heraldic shields, pinnacles, and a fluttering, carved banner below the eighth-floor cornice.

photo by Beyond My Ken

Many of the initial tenants were involved in the millinery business, including Judd & Co., Spear & Co., Charles S. Merton & Co., and the Silk Web Hat Band Co.  One, however, that was definitely not hat-related was the Direct Line Telephone Company of San Francisco, which leased the third floor.

Spear & Company, which manufactured "motor and outing caps," was typical of the original tenants.  The American Hatter, January 1908 (copyright expired)

In 1912 "Willoughby and a Square Deal" had operated nearby at 814 Broadway for years.  On March 27 that year, the Bulletin of Photography reported, "The increasing business of 'Willoughby and a Square Deal' is responsible for his having to move to a new location.  Three floors will be occupied at 810 Broadway, New York City, after May 1st."  

Willoughby was among the best known of the New York City photographic equipment and supply retailers.  One item he introduced soon after moving into 810 Broadway innovated photographic printing.  A description of the Ware Automatic Printing Machine in the Bulletin of Photography sounds far ahead of its time.  By using electric light, the machine "always makes the same exposure unless the indicator is changed; therefore, every print has a uniform color."  The article promised, "Vignetting, dodging, and doctoring of negatives is easily accomplished by a very unique method...The incandescent arc or Cooper-Hewitt light is recommended." 

A model demonstrates the Ware Automatic Printing Machine.  Bulletin of Photography, May 1, 1912 (copyright expired)

Like the automatic printing machine, Willoughby kept up with the changing trends.  In its "Things New Photographic" section in August 1914, The Camera wrote, "If you use a motion-picture camera you ought to buy your film from Willoughby, 810 Broadway, New York City."

Abel's Photographic Weekly, November 8, 1913 (copyright expired)

Another tenant who kept up with the times was Golland Sons & Co., here by 1915.  The firm was listed in The Automobile Trade Directory that year for manufacturing "motorists' clothing."

Charles G. Willoughby moved his business to the Herald Square district in the fall of 1916.  Still in 810 Broadway was an original tenant, Charles S. Merton & Co.  That year it marketed its "sports hats," to the modern woman.  One ad told retailers, "they give you the right sort of hat to sell for Autoing, Golfing, Skating, Woods Wear, Tennis, Summer Resort Wear, for Travelling, for the Rainy Day, etc."

The Millinery Trade Review, October 1916 (copyright expired)

Following World War I, Finkelstein & Maisel took the second floor for its factory and showrooms.  The firm was a wholesale manufacturer of "men's and young men's fine clothing."  In 1921 workers of several other apparel firms went on strike.  Labor troubles in the first half of the 20th century often involved violence and intimidation, and this instance would be no different.

On May 26, a "committee" from the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America strode in and demanded Finkelstein & Maisel "to throw open all its books, ledgers and even bank accounts to inspection...in order that it might be learned whether or not the firm had been manufacturing clothes for any firm against which a strike is in force."  Abraham Finkelstein, the head of the firm, was incensed and ordered the men out, declaring he "would never consent to such arbitrary interference with his business."  He told a reporter from the New York Herald, "If we lived in Russia, I would understand such high handed methods.  But here in New York City it would seem impossible that such things could happen."  

Finkelstein had always employed union employees and paid union wages.  Nevertheless, after he told an Amalgamated official "just what I thought of the demand," his 500 workers were ordered off the job by the union.  Finkelstein complained, "Their only answer was to call out all my workmen, who haven't the faintest idea why they are not allowed to work."

The building was updated in 1932 by architect Elwood Hughes.  The second story store space was now an additional factory floor.

Edmund Vincent Gillon photographed the building around 1978.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In the late 1960's and early 1970's, the ground floor space was home to the Andrew Murphy Bar & Grill.  It was replaced around 1979 by the Ace Galleries, which sold a wide variety of goods, including "antiques, furniture, Oriental/Chinese rugs, silver and paintings," according to an ad in New York Magazine on March 26, 1979.  The changing neighborhood was affecting the tenant list upstairs as well.  In 1977 one of the former factory lofts was now the art studio of Fay Lansner and Phillip Pavia.

Major change came in 2000 when a renovation resulted in one apartment on each of the upper floors.  But through it all, Rouse & Goldstone's 1907 exterior design has survived virtually intact.

photographs by the author

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The Lost Brokaw Mansions - 984 and 985 Fifth Avenue

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

Isaac Vail Brokaw was a partner with his brother in the Brokaw Brothers clothing firm.  By 1887 he was among the wealthiest men in the city and hired architects Charles Frederick Rose and Howard Colton Stone, partners in Rose & Stone, to design a massive French Renaissance-style chateau on the northeast corner of Fifth Avenue and 79th Street.

An Edwardian mother walks her son, in knickers, across the street in front of the Brokaw mansion, while a driver steers from the right side of the car down Fifth Avenue.  Directly behind the mansion are the twin residences of Howard and Irving Brokaw, erected in 1905. -- photo Library of Congress

Brokaw and his wife, the former Elvira Gould, had seven children, three of whom had died by the turn of the century.  Surviving were daughter Elvira and sons George Tuttle, Howard Crosby and Isaac Irving (who went by his middle name).  As they grew up and married, Isaac began providing them homes as well.  In 1905 Charles F. Rose was brought back to  matching French Gothic mansions at Nos. 984 and 985 Fifth Avenue for Howard and Irving abutting the Brokaw residence.  (There was no need to build a home for George, the eldest, since it was understood he would inherit the family mansion at No. 1 East 79th Street.)  Each of the sumptuous mansions cost $344,536.26 to erect--more than $10 million today.  

The next year, on May 29, The New York Tribune reported on the rising mansions.  “The two houses which Mr. and Mrs. Isaac V. Brokaw are having built in Fifth avenue between 79th and 80th Streets, adjoining their own home, will be occupied by their sons and daughters-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Howard C. Brokaw and Mr. and Mrs. Irving Brokaw.  The houses are of gray granite, are of the French chateau style and six stories high.  It will probably be a year before they are ready for occupancy.”

Faced in limestone, each of the 30-room, carbon copy mansions sat above a broad set of stone steps flanked by high, solid wing walls.  The entrances sat within grand arches.  The second floor openings were decorated with Gothic style carvings and flowery crockets.  The third and fourth floors were relatively unadorned; however the top two floors made up for that with two-story dormers which exploded in finials and carved decoration.

The Brokaws' neighbors were Hugh A. Murray in the vintage brownstone at left, Wm. B. Leeds in the striking mansion at No. 987, and William J. Curtis at No. 986.  from Fifth Avenue New York City, 1911 (copyright expired)

Howard and his wife, the former Edna Goadby Loew moved into No. 984 with their toddler daughter, Julia Eloise; while Irving and his wife, Lucile Nave, took No. 985.  While it might have seemed to high society that the houses were lavish gifts from their father, they were not.  Isaac V. Brokaw retained ownership of the properties and, it could be suggested, additional control of his sons.  (In fact, both had massive personal fortunes and could have built their own city mansions had they so chosen.)

Howard and Edna added to their family when Edna Loew was born on November 14, 1908, and Marguerite (known familiarly as Peggy) arrived on January 11, 1913.   

Irving and Lucile, too, had a toddler when they moved in.  Barbara Lucile was born in December 1903.  And like the Howard Brokaws, the couple would have two more daughters, Minna Elvira, born in 1906, and Lucile, born in 1915.

Interestingly, Irving Brokaw was both a world-class figure skater and hockey player.  As early as 1899 he competed in the world's hockey championship in Vienna.

Among the casually-posed St. Nicholas Hockey Club in 1898 was Irving Brokaw, wearing number 3. The Illustrated American, February 12, 1898 

Entertainments in both houses were often lavish.  On January 25, 1913, for instance, The New York Press reported "Mr. and Mrs. Irving Brokaw gave a dance last evening in their home No. 985 Fifth avenue.  There was general dancing throughout the evening, interrupted by supper and then more dancing."  The guest list included familiar names in high society like Oelrich, Lorillard, Mills, Drexel and Burden.

Isaac Vail Brokaw died on September 29, 1913, leaving an estate in the neighborhood of $325 million today.   Each of the sons received about $4 million plus "a life enjoyment" of their Fifth Avenue residences.  Even in death their father retained possession.

Both sons would erect lavish country estates.  In 1915 Howard hired Philadelphia architect Horace Trumbauer to design the family's sprawling mansion The Chimneys in Brookville, Long Island.  

The Chimneys.  from 1916 real estate brochure Long Island, copyright expired

The Fifth Avenue houses were, of course, opened only during the winter seasons.  But even then No. 984 was often closed.  The Howard Brokaws began spending much of their time during the cold months in the newly-popular Palm Beach, Florida.  Society columnist could hardly keep up with their movements.

On March 14, 1922, for instance, the New-York Tribune reported "Mr. and Mrs. Howard C. Brokaw, of 984 Fifth Avenue, have returned from a month's visit at Palm Beach."  And on May 12 The New York Herald announced that the family "have gone to the Chimneys, their country place in Brookville, L. I.  They will sail on the Olympic June 24."

The family had to be back from Europe by the fall and the beginning of Julia's debutante season.  On December 17, 1922 The New York Herald reported "Mr. and Mrs. Howard C. Brokaw of 984 Fifth avenue are arranging a series of entertainments for their debutante daughter, Miss Julia Brokaw for whom they are giving a dinner next Thursday night."  That dinner was preceded by a large afternoon reception and followed by a theater party," reported The New York Times.  

Julia's cousin, Barbara, had been introduced to society the previous season.  On December 30, 1921 The New York Herald had announced "Mr. and Mrs. Irving Brokaw of 985 Fifth avenue gave one of the largest dances of the season to introduce their daughter, Miss Barbara Brokaw."  The guest list, which engulfed a full column in the newspaper, was too large even for the Brokaw ballroom and was held in the Ritz-Carlton.

Barbara Brokaw shows off a sporty costume in 1922. New-York Tribune, January 26, 1922 (copyright expired) 

Brokaw girls received the best of educations.  The New York Evening Post commented on May 29 that Mimi's debut that upcoming season "should have small thrill" for the young woman.  "Ever since she finished her studies at an exclusive school in Paris, where she spent the past winter, she has been plunged into a regular whirlpool of social activity."  

The article went on, "First the was presented at the second court of the season at Buckingham Palace, being among the very few Americans who attained this distinction this season...Now we learn she has deserted London for the gayeties of life in Paris, where she and her sister, Barbara, assisted at the Russian charity fete held recently at the home of the Duc and Duchesse de Talleyrand, the latter formerly Anna Gould."

The Irving Brokaw's summer estate was in Oyster Bay, Long Island.  In 1926 the couple hired Walker & Gillette to design a new, lavish residence, Frost Mill Lodge, in Mill Neck on the North Shore of Long Island.

Frost Mill Lodge  from "Mill Neck Long Island, N.Y." brochure, (copyright expired)

Mimi Brokaw was married to Richard Derby Tucker in the fashionable St. Thomas's Church on Fifth Avenue on February 16, 1927.  The Saratogian promised "The wedding will be one of the largest and most attractive society events of the New York season."

A year later, almost to the day, Barbara's St. Thomas's Church wedding to Leonard J. Cushing took place on February 4, 1928.  Lucile had transformed the church.  Brooklyn Life said "Around the chancel were placed tall cedar trees, cybotium ferns and palms, and at the foot of the steps leading to the altar were two large boxwood trees, banked with calla lilies."

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

On January 27, 1931 butler John P. Darby opened the door of No. 984 to find a "suave young man" who said he had a message for Howard Brokaw which he had to deliver personally.  Darby admitted the stranger and ushered him "through the spacious foyer where the armor of some of the Huguenot ancestors of the Brokaws still stands," said the Courier Express, a Buffalo, New York newspaper.  

Howard and Edna (who was wearing "a dinner dress decked with diamonds and other gems") were playing backgammon in the library.  "But before the butler reached the library," reported The New York Sun, "he felt something sinister in the small of his back.  It was the muzzle of a revolver, and at the same time Darby heard a voice in his ear say softly: 'Keep quiet, and nothing will happen to you.'"

With the muzzle of the pistol poking his back, the butler politely ushered the man into the library and presented him.  Howard looked up to see a gun pointed at him.  The intruder said "Sorry to disturb you.  But I'm desperate and in need of money.  Stick up your hands and no harm will come to you."

Edna screamed.  The gunman told her "Don't get frightened, lady.  I'm a gentleman, and I'll only take what I can lay hands on easy."  

Howard helplessly obeyed, giving him his wallet containing $175 (nearly $3,000 today) and his platinum watch.  The robber then forced the Brokaws and their butler into the master bathroom and locked the door.  

He then "stripped the place of what jewels and cash he could find," said the Courier Express.  The "amount of the nervous young gunman's haul" was estimated at about $20,000, or about $336,000 today.

He was apparently unaware that mansions like this one had "house telephones" connected to the servants' quarters.  Howard alerted a maid, who summoned the police.  But the robber had disappeared by the time they arrived.  

The New York Sun called the crime "unique in its audacity."  Edna was traumatized.  Two days later she was reportedly "in a highly nervous state, confined to her room with a physician in attendance."

At the end of the summer season of 1933 the New York Evening Post reported "Miss Lucile Brokaw, one of the most beautiful of New York's young fashionables, returned from Europe about three weeks ago.  She and her mother had been traveling by motor through Spain, France and other countries and, since Miss Brokaw Speaks French and Spanish fluently, it proved a very exciting trip."  The article added "Prior to making her debut last year she attended Mme. Boissier's School in Paris and Miss Hewlitt's School here."

On June 1, 1935 Irving and Lucile hosted a dinner party at Frost Mill Lodge during which they announced Lucile's engagement to James D. P. Bishop.  The couple was married that fall.

Not long afterward Lucile Brokaw fell ill.  After an extended sickness she died in No. 985 on September 12, 1937 at the age of 51.  It is possible that her death may have prompted Irving to initially plan to sell their home.  Four months later, on January 29, 1938 The New York Sun reported "French eighteenth century furniture from the Irving Brokaw residence at 985 Fifth avenue...will be dispersed at publish sale at the Parke-Bernet Galleries."

photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

But if he did entertain such plans, they faded.  Irving Brokaw was still living in the house when he died in Palm Beach, Florida on March 18, 1939 at the age of 69.  The following year No. 985 was converted to spacious apartments, one on the first floor, two each on floors two through five, and four on the sixth.

In the meantime, Marguerite Brokaw was married to Charles Crocker on January 27, 1938 in the mansion in which she grew up next door.  Although the New York Post called it a "simple service," it was followed by "a large reception with dancing to Alexander Haas' Hungarian orchestra."

Her uncle, George Tuthill Brokaw, had died of a heart attack in 1935.  His widow, Frances, remarried in 1936 and the year of Barbara's marriage the massive Isaac V. Brokaw mansion was left vacant.  In 1946 the Institute of Radio Engineers purchased No. 1 East 79th Street, expanding into Elvira's mansion next door at No. 7 East 79th Street in 1954, and finally into the Howard Brokaw house in 1961.

Although the Isaac Vail Brokaw mansion had been designated a landmark by the Landmarks Preservation Commission, on September 17, 1964 The New York Times reported that it and flanking Brokaw mansions were to be demolished "to make way for a new commercial building."  The article noted that the LPC "said it would protest the move although it lacked the legal power to stop it."

In one of Manhattan's most regrettable cases of historical and architectural apathy, the three structures were demolished, replaced by a high rise apartment building.

The Irving Brokaw mansion survived until 1969 when it, too, fell to the wrecking ball for a less-than-attractive apartment building.

The Lost Kleinberger Galleries - 12 East 54th Street

Before its two substantial remodelings, the house looked much like the old rowhouse to the left.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Charles Price Britton's 25-foot wide rowhouse at No. 12 East 54th Street was not typical of those around it.  Unlike the ubiquitous brownstone cladding which Edith Wharton would later describe as "deadly uniformity of mean ugliness," Britton's home was faced in brick.

Like most of its neighbors, the house was erected shortly after the end of the Civil War.   The Britton family were residents at least by 1882 when their address appeared on the membership list of the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church.

Britton was the head of the stock brokerage firm of Charles P. Britton & Company.   He traced his American lineage to William Britton, a sea captain who came from Bristol, England and settled in Newport in the 18th century.  (Oddly enough, his name was originally William Summerill, but he took his mother's maiden name before leaving England.)

Britton had married Caroline Berry in September 1866. The couple suffered more than their share of heartbreak.  Their second child, Mary Marsh, died in 1875 at just two years old.  Their eldest son, William Adams died at the age of 20 on September 29, 1888.  Only Henry Berry Britton, born on September 5, 1878, would survive to marry and become a member of his father's firm.

Although Britton was a member of the socially elite Union League Club, his other memberships reflected his familial history.  He held memberships in the Sons of the Revolution, the Society of Colonial Wars, and the New England Society of New York.

In April 1893 the Brittons commissioned architect John Sexton to remodel the interiors.  The filed plans are vague at best, but at about $13,000 in today's money they most likely involved cosmetic updating.

At the time John Daly and his wife Ida lived at No. 208 West 59th Street.   Daly could not have been more different from Charles P. Britton and yet their paths would cross before very long.

Daly ran gambling houses, one of which was very near his home.  The Sun, on August 6, 1893, described his two city operations as "the famous house in Twenty-ninth street near Broadway, and another in Fifty-ninth street opposite the Park."   Reportedly he paid the police as much as $100,000 per week to prevent raids.

But he was best known for his lavish gambling house in Long Branch, New Jersey.   The Sun disapprovingly called Long Branch "America's Monte Carlo," and reported "Gambling is unquestionably a craze in Long Branch,  The average man is overcome by it."  The newspaper was astonished that there a patron could gamble "with impunity and without fear of molestation unless he happens to be a native of the town."

"John Daly's place at the Branch is the house where the biggest games are played and where a man can get just about as big a limit as he cares to make.  It is the house most frequented by gamblers, because it has the reputation of running the squarest games of any at the Branch," said The Sun.

In stark contrast to the seedy gambling dens of Manhattan's Tenderloin District, this was a palace--a forerunner of the Atlantic City and Las Vegas resorts.  "The main gaming room...is a great rotunda with a beautiful stained glass top, and the bright lights glaring through the colored glass are a big advertisement of the vice inside...There is a great wide seaside piazza in front, with big armchairs that invite the passer by, and a yawning doorway that reaches out to take in all."

Like today's casinos, patrons were treated to the best in food.  "John Daly's chef is a banner man in his line.  He is said to be the best chef at the Branch.  The viands he serves for the breakfast of the guests, and the midnight lunch, are even more tempting than the meals at the Ocean Club."

But the purpose of the article was not to compliment Daly's gambling house.  The writer warned "Of course, ninety-nine men in every hundred get the worst of the game," and said of Daly's, "It was there that Senator Wolcott dropped his $24,000 in a few hours, and it was there that Banker Woerishoffer used to go and play to win or lose thousands every night."

John Daly's Long Branch gambling house was built around a central rotunda.  The New-York Tribune, August 3, 1902 (copyright expired)

And so the announcement on March 16, 1895 that the Brittons had sold No. 12 to John and Ida Daly must have sent shock waves through the neighborhood.  The selling price, $67,500, would be equal to more than $1.8 million today.

But before they moved in, the Dalys modernized the out-of-date house.  They hired architect Joseph Wolf to remodel the facade.  Wolf removed the stoop and created an American basement home.  While the entertainment rooms would still be on what had been the parlor floor, the entrance was now located a few steps below street level.

The New York Herald, July 24, 1921 (copyright expired)

The city of Long Branch dealt a severe blow to Daly six years later when it outlawed gambling.   In July 1903 The Evening World commented that the once-lavish gambling houses were "barred and desolate" and the "abode of cobwebs and dust."   John and his brother, Phil Daly (who ran another operation in the town), told the reporter that "the present state of Long Branch is worse than the old."  Gambling never went away, they asserted, but had simply been forced underground.  "Public gambling, according to their argument has a tendency to make men more careful," explained the article.

Nevertheless, Daly was out of the gambling business and turned his full attention to the more socially acceptable line of horse breeding.   He established a summer residence in Saratoga, home of the nation's oldest race track (opened in 1863).  The town lured not only racing and horse enthusiasts, but celebrities like Sarah Bernhardt, Enrico Caruso and Oscar Wilde.

It was at their Saratoga cottage on Union Avenue that Ida Daly died on July 6, 1905.   Less than a year later Daly died at the age of 68 in the 54th Street mansion.  In reporting his death, the New-York Tribune called him the "well known turfman and gambler" and said "he was regarded as one of the squarest men in the gambling business"  The article noted "He frequently said that gambling, properly conducted, was as legitimate as any other business."

The Daly mansion was acquired by real estate operators Michael J. and John O'Connor.   Although still home to many wealthy families, the neighborhood around St. Patrick's Cathedral was increasingly seeing the encroachment of commerce.

Finally, on June 1, 1910 the O'Connors sold the house.  The following day the New-York Tribune reported "The buyer is Mrs. Charlotte E. Van Smith, who will use it for her dressmaking business."

Charlotte did some renovations of her own.  Within two weeks her architect, William Anagnost, filed plans to add an elevator, new doors and fire-escapes.   The transformation of house-to-business cost her around a quarter of a million in today's dollars and included living quarters for her on the upper floors.

Dressmakers like Charlotte E. Van Smith catered to the carriage trade and often used the term modiste to describe themselves.  The cost of their services and glamorous costumes earned them small fortunes, affording Charlotte to live in luxurious accommodations with a still-fashionable address.

Charlotte employed a small staff of experienced seamstresses as well as a boy whose tasks included running packages of completed gowns to her customers' homes, the steamship docks, or shipping firms if the patron were out of town.  Such was the case on December 14, 1911 when three gowns had to be completed and shipped off to Philadelphia, Baltimore and Parkinburg, Pennsylvania.  The New York Times reported that "Miss Smith kept her employees working until after dark last night" on the three dresses.  Each of the dresses were valued at about $300--nearly $7,500 today.

With the garments boxed and labeled and sent off with 15-year old Nathan Friedman, Charlotte felt she could relax.  But disaster was about to strike.

Nathan was headed to the Adams Express Company depot at 48th Street and Madison Avenue.  At around 52nd Street he was approached by a man who said he needed a messenger boy.  Nathan directed him to the telegraph office; but the man said he had been there and simply could not find one.

He offered Nathan $1 to take a message to "F. Marshall" at 838 Fifth Avenue (which was, in fact, the mansion of William Watts Sherman).  The boy refused and started on his way.

Insistent, the stranger said he lived at the Hotel Buckingham and that if Nathan would come with him to get the message, he would guard the packages until he returned.   The boy was finally convinced and went off on the phony task.  The New York Times reported "When he returned the bundles were gone" and surmised a "young man is richer by some $900 worth of evening gowns which he purloined by trickery from the boy."

Apparently now retired, in January 1919 Charlotte E. Van Smith leased her shop (in what the Real Estate Record & Guide now termed "the Van Smith Building") to another high-end dressmaker, "Miss Jean, designer of gowns." 

Exactly one year later, on January 27, 1920, the business was looking for a new model.  The advertisement in The New York Herald not only reflected the caliber of the clientele, but a change in the dress sizes today.  "Model.  Attractive, size, 36, preferably brunette.  High class dressmaking establishment.  House of Jean, Inc."

Significant change would come to No. 12 when Charlotte E. Van Smith next leased the building to the interior decorating firm of Leed, Inc.   On July 24, 1921 The New York Herald opined "One of the latest and perhaps one of the most interesting examples of remaking an old Gotham dwelling into an appropriate home for business has just been accomplished by Leed, Inc...who recently moved from 631 Fifth avenue into the four story and basement house at 12 East Fifth-fourth street, once the home of 'Phil' [sic] Daly, the gambler."

Surprisingly, the firm's president, L. R. Kaufman, did not seek the help of a professional architect.  Instead, he personally remodeled the facade with striking results.  What had been a modified Victorian rowhouse was now what pretended to be a glorious French Gothic mansion; its yawning, deep-set entrance recalling a 15th century gatehouse.

Carved crockets adorned the entrance arch, a faux balcony introduced the second floor with grouped, stained glass windows, and a series of pointed Gothic arches--including two blind arches at their end--finished the top floor.   Inside Kaufman attempted to retain a domestic environment in which to display the firm's furniture, artwork and bric-a-brac.  The New York Herald said he had finished the walls in "rough old terra cotta plaster with marble terrazzo floors in black and white squares.  The general effect is the production of old Italian walls in warm colors."

A new staircase lead to the main showroom on the second floor.  Leaded windows similar to those in the front opened onto the rear garden, "which is to be finished with a terrace and loggia with playing  fountains,"

The New York Herald, July 24, 1921 (copyright expired)

Leeds, Inc. operated from the lower two floors.  The third floor was leased to Louise & Annette, Inc., a millinery shop; and the upper apartment where Charlotte E. Van Smith had lived was sublet to 
Mrs. Wendell Phillips.    

Mrs. Phillips would be forced to perform an unpleasant task later that year.  She was the president of the Carry-On Association which operated the Carry-On Club for disabled soldiers on Madison Avenue.   Clubs for military men who had returned from the war were common and rarely prompted anything but favorable press.

But in September 1921 seven men complained to the courts that they had been ousted from the club and asked to be reinstated.  A journalist from The New York Herald visited No. 12 East 54th Street, but on October 1 reported "Mrs. Phillips refused to discuss the matter other than to say the men ejected were considered 'disturbing elements.'"

In the fall of 1927 the esteemed Kleinberger Galleries moved from 725 Fifth Avenue to the former Leeds, Inc. showrooms.  Kleinberger routinely dealt in Old Masters and catered to the country's wealthiest and best informed collectors.  Just before leaving its former location, the gallery exhibited a modern piece--an oil portrait of American hero Charles A. Lindbergh.

The New York Times reported "The portrait is the work of M. A. Rasko, a New York artist who went to Mitchel Field and sketched Lindbergh on the day before his take-off.  The aviator was shy at first, thinking Mr. Rasko had gone there to photograph him.  Finally he relented and allowed the artist 'five minutes.'  Mr. Rasko stayed forty-five minutes and completed his sketch."

Now at No. 12, Francis Kleinberger returned to more familiar territory.   In January 1928, for instance, he was asked to settle a dispute when London art critics declared that "The Lute Player" by Vermeer in the collection of Philadelphia attorney John G. Johnson was a forgery.   The controversy arose when an identical picture appeared in the Royal Academy's Winter Show in London, on loan from the collection of the late Lord Iveagh.

Kleinberger emphatically defended Johnson's as the original.  "I am positive that the painting is a genuine work by Vermeer," he said.  As for Lord Iveagh's painting, he withheld an opinion until he had the opportunity to examine it.

Later that year, in November, the gallery held an exhibition of paintings by early German masters, including Hans Holbein's portrait of King Edward VI of England as a boy.  The show was to benefit the American Red Cross.

Kleinberger Galleries remained in the building at least through 1935.  By the early 1940s it had been converted to a Swedish restaurant, the Three Crowns.  It was operated by John Perrson and Bror Munson who had run the Sweish Pavilion at the World's Fair.  Robert W. Dana in his 1948 Where to Eat in New York said "It has a beautiful dining room and bar, not too large, but nicely proportioned."  The successful eatery operated into the early 1960s.

postcard from the collection of  the Columbia University Libraries

In 1970, about a century after it was erected as a brick-faced Victorian rowhouse, the unique structure was demolished.  The 43-story office building known as 520 Madison Avenue now occupies the site.

photo via The Skyscraper Center