The J. Romaine Brown Mansion - No. 340 Convent Avenue

In 1886 William Mowbray was busy transforming the blocks around Convent Avenue and West 144th Street into a fashionable neighborhood.  The area, once part of Alexander Hamilton's estate The Grange, was quickly developing.  In December that year the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide noted "More than twenty elegant houses, of English Gothic, Flemish and other styles, as modified by the taste of the architect Mr. Wm. E. Mowbray, are already planned and will be built without delay."

Many of those homes were designed for developers William H. DeForest and his son, also named William.  Mowbray's builder father, Anthony, constructed the residences.  But for Nos. 340 through 346 Convent Avenue, at the corner of West 144th Street, Mowbray acted as both developer and architect.

Not completed until 1890, the row was anchored by the impressive corner mansion.  Although the entrance was unquestionably located at No. 451 West 144th Street, the house took the address of No. 340 Convent Avenue.  All Mowbry's houses along the street were modern takes on historic styles.  But the red brick mansion was less quaint and more imposing than its neighbors.  A Victorian adaptation of French Renaissance, it featured a large corner tower with a conical cap, a basement level of rough-cut granite, and pedimented dormers which cut through the steep slate-tiled roof.

The neighborhood at the turn of the last century was charming.  The tower of No. 340 Convent Avenue (right) still retained its conical cap.  photograph by Thaddeus Wilkerson, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In 1905 the mansion became home to Joseph Romaine Brown and his wife, the former Annie Elizabeth Lockwood.  The 72-year old was still highly active in the real estate business and headed the J. Romaine Brown Company at No. 10 East 43rd Street.  He was deemed the "Dean of Manhattan Brokers."

He and Annie had married in April 1865.  By then he had had a widely-varied career.  He had started business by learning the locksmith trade; then in 1854 purchased the 34th Street stage coach line (it ran from 34th Street, down Broadway to 26th Street, then to Third Avenue and back), and two years later started his real estate business.

By the time the Browns moved into the Convent Avenue mansion, their four children were grown and Joseph Brown had accumulated a significant fortune.   That was partly due to the street car line which was formed in the 1850s.  Its founders wanted to run it along the same route as Brown's coach line, so they bought him out for $150,000--in the neighborhood of $4.25 million today.

J. Romaine Brown -- photo via werelate.org

In 1913, when the country was still suffering through the crippling financial depression known as the Panic of 1907, a reporter from The Sun visited Brown to get a veteran's views on the economy.  The article, which appeared on Sunday, August 31, encompassed half of the front page.  Brown boosted optimism among the newspaper's readers by retelling stories of earlier depressions--like the paralyzing Panic of 1873 that lasted until 1880.  The article noted "Mr. Brown expects that the experiences of 1878 are soon to be duplicated here, that is, the real estate market will turn from a period of inactivity to one of splendid business."

Two months later, 345 lots on Jerome Avenue were sold at auction.  The New York Times noted on November 2, "J. Romaine Brown, whose knowledge of New York real estate extends over a longer period that the great majority of brokers, showed his faith in the future of the Jerome Avenue lots sold by purchasing nearly the entire block front on the east side of Jerome Avenue" at 174th Street."

Brown used his reputation to further bolster confidence in the economy.  He chided other real estate men for not bidding, saying "the lots sold for absurdly low prices" and adding "anyone who will look back at the growth of New York can readily see that Jerome Avenue, in a short time, will be far better than Eighth Avenue, and more like Sixth Avenue, below Fifty-ninth Street, with stores and substantial improvements."

Brown sold No. 340 Convent Avenue in May 1916 to an investor.  Annie died in 1923 at the age of 87; and Brown died the following year at the age of 91.

The house was the scene of considerable excitement the year after the Browns moved out.  Burglars did not expect Thomas Stuart to be in his West 142nd Street apartment on the afternoon of July 18, 1917; but he worked nights and was sleeping.   He was wakened by the sound of men trying to jimmy his front door open.   He surprised the would-be crooks but, "by reason of his attire was unable to pursue the burglars, but gave the alarm to passersby in the street," reported The Sun.

The two men were chased down 142nd Street and onto Convent Avenue "by an ever increasing crowd."  The accomplice of Charles J. Miller (described by the newspaper as "a Swiss, 26 years old) ducked into a construction site, then managed to reappear and slip into the crowd unobserved.  To distract the pursuers, he pulled a fire alarm at 145th Street and Convent Avenue.  The Sun reported that the ploy worked for him, but not for Miller who began "a systematic series of fence vaulting from one yard to the next."

As Miller jumped over one back fence to another, Patrolman Whelan had joined the chase.  Unfortunately for the crook, the policeman had "won fame not long ago as a pole vaulter and gymnasium expert with the Irish American A. C."  The athletic cop "showed such superior technique in fence vaulting that he caught Miller in the yard of 340 Convent avenue."

Although Miller put up a fight, he was subdued and arrested.  At the police station, it was confirmed that he had been involved in several other burglaries in the neighborhood.

The following year, in June 1918, the mansion was purchased by the Little Sisters of the Assumption.  Their convent had been located since 1899 at Nos. 125-127 West 130th Street which a spokesperson said was, at the time, "a desirable residence locality."

Now, the President of the Little Sisters, Claire Daburon, explained the move in terms disturbing to 21st century readers.  She said a reporter from The Sun in late June that "within the last few years the character of the neighborhood had so changed because of an influx of colored residents that the site was no longer desirable for a residence and convent."

The Little Sisters of the Assumption was founded in 1864 in Paris.  The Catholic Encyclopedia described its work in 1922.  "The Little Sisters nurse the sick poor in their own homes, without regard to creed or nationality, accepting no remuneration of any kind.  In addition to caring for the patient, they keep the house clean and in order, prepare the meals for the family, dress the children and send them to school."

In 1922 the Little Sisters purchased and demolished the abutting house at No. 342 Convent Avenue.  Architect P. F. Brogan was commissioned to design a four-story addition to the mansion; a strikingly dissimilar red brick structure in a toned down version of the French Classical style which continued the original mansard.

A section of the 1922 addition can be seen above.

The convent remained in the mansion until about 1960, when it became home to the Greater Tabernacle Baptist Church, which describes itself as "a small church with a big heart."  Although the conical cap of the tower has been lost and the facade painted red, the house is as attention grabbing as it was in 1890.

photographs by the author

The L. Alavoine & Co. Facade -- No. 712 Fifth Avenue

To the right of No. 712 is the former Coty Building with its wall of Lalique windows.

In 1875 the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church erected its $1 million building on northwest corner of Fifth Avenue and 55^th Street.  Organized in 1808 as the Center Street Presbyterian Church, the congregation had moved to Duane Street in 1836 and to Fifth Avenue and 19^th Street in 1836.  The new location, in the midst of the developing mansion district, would be its final move.

Eight years earlier the church enticed Irish missionary Rev. Dr. John Hall to take the position of pastor.  He moved his family from Dublin that year.  The wealth of Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church was reflected in his salary.  He was initially paid $6,000 in gold (approximately $100,000 in 2016); a salary which would eventually increase to $15,000.

On August 16, 1886 John S. Kennedy filed plans for a $75,000 parsonage to be built next door to the church, at No. 712 Fifth Avenue.  The plans described it as “four stories high, and be built of brick and brownstone.”

Rev. Dr. John Hall was a potent force in the high society congregation.   For more than a decade the parsonage was the scene of high-end receptions, church functions and society evens. 

Hall became ill in March 1898, “suffering from prostration,” however doctors assured the public he would recover.  On March 29 The Sun reported “He passed a very comfortable night, and his condition was noticeably improved by it.”  But Hall did not recover.  He died later that year, in September.

The house was never again used as a parsonage.  The Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church leased it to William Baylis.  The millionaire and his family lived here until 1906.  By now the incursion of commerce into Millionaires’ Row was well underway.  Within the year Charles A. Gould would abandon his mansion next door, at No. 714, and convert it to a commercial building.

On May 9, 1906 The New York Times reported that the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church had leased its parsonage to L. Alavoine & Co., society art dealers and decorators.  The announcement said the firm “will make few changes in the front of the house, which will continue to have the outward appearance of a private dwelling, but on the rear of the lot an art gallery will be erected.”

But apparently Alavoine & Co. and the church were not done with negotiations.   In August L. Alavoine & Co. announced that planned alterations would cost $20,000.  But by spring 1907 nothing had been done.

Then, on March 23, 1907 the Record & Guide reported “One building will be demolished at 712 5^th av for the five-story store and office building…which the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church Congregation…are to build from plans by Albert S. Gottlieb.”  The announcement noted that the building was being constructed for the use of its tenant, L. Alavoine & Co.  “The front will be of limestone and brick…and the cost is estimated at $50,000.”

Completed in 1908 Gottlieb’s handsome neo-French Classic building mimicked the 18^th century row houses of Paris.  The architect carefully carried on the proportions, the mansard roof and cornice line of the abutting Gould mansion.  Corinthian pilasters, wrought iron grills at the upper openings, carved swag panels and balustrade decorated with great stone urns created a high-end residential look.

L. Alavoine & Co. had been in business in America since 1853.  The firm not only sold valuable paintings and artwork to New York City’s wealthiest citizens, it decorated their homes as well.  In fact, its influence was so noteworthy that when millionaire James B. Haggin began alterations to the massive George Crocker mansion at No 1 East 64^th Street in 1912, L. Alavoine & Co. was listed as architects on the plans.

Not long after moving into No. 712 Fifth Avenue L. Alavoine & Co. welcomed a subtenant.  In 1909 high-end Paris jeweler Pierre Cartier opened his New York City branch store here.  Within seven years his business would demand a building of its own; and in 1916 he negotiated a deal to take over Morton Plant’s superb mansion at the southeast corner of Fifth Avenue and 52^nd Street.

The French owners of L. Alavoine & Co. were most likely instrumental in space being leased to L’Union des Arts as war broke out in Europe.  On April 8, 1917 The New York Times explained that the charity “contributes to the assistance and protection of artists, painters, sculptors, and literary men who are victims of the war.”  The organization was patronized by some of Manhattan’s wealthiest socialites, among them Mrs. Vincent Astor, Mrs. Jules Bache, Mrs. Harry Payne Whitney, Mrs. O. H. Harriman, Mrs. Frederick Havemeyer and Mrs. Frederick Vanderbilt.

With the war over, space in the building was leased to another high-end art dealer, Arthur H. Harlow & Co.  Harlow had established the firm in 1911 at No. 569 Fifth Avenue.  Like L. Alavoine & Co. the artworks handled by Harlow ranged from Old Masters, like Rembrandt etchings, to more modern paintings like works by Cezanne.

Arthur Harlow opened with an exhibition of American Impressionist painter Paul Dougherty. The New York Herald, February 27, 1921

Edouard Ferman, president of L. Alavoine & Co. died on May 23, 1933.  Although the firm gave up the ground floor space to A. Schmidt Sons, another art dealer and decorator, in 1934, it continued on in the Fifth Avenue building.  In 1936 L. Alavoine & Co. launched its most impressive exhibition to date: five complete French rooms were temporarily installed.  On November 8 The New York Times opined “In these paneled interiors, brought over entire from Old World palaces, a rare opportunity is offered to see French decorative art at its best.”

By the time L. Alavoine & Co. decorated the Jesse Isidore Strauss residence on Park Avenue, the Art Deco style was all the rage.  photograph from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

That same year Arthur H. Harlow & Co. moved from No. 712 Fifth Avenue to Rockefeller Center.  L. Alavoine & Co. and A. Schmidt Son remained nearly until mid-century.  In 1948 A. Schmidt Son discontinued business, selling at auction its stock of French and English furniture, paintings, Georgian silver, porcelains, tapestries and Oriental rugs.

In its place Louis Carr Gallery moved in.  Unlike its predecessors, the gallery dealt in modernist paintings “of the last decade” according to its opening announcement.  The art and antiques tradition continued in the building as Associated American Artists Galleries moved in during June 1956 from across the avenue at No 711; and the Albert Landry Gallery opened in January 1959.

Change would come after Harry Winston sold the building in October 1963.  The jeweler, whose business was at the southwest corner of 56^th Street at No. 718, also owned No. 714.  The purchaser was Gotham Development Corporation for the Italian Rizzoli-Editore Corporation.

After gentle renovations, Rizzoli opened its vast bookstore with green marble floors, polished walnut woodwork and cultured atmosphere.  No run-of-the-mill bookstore, it offered Fifth Avenue shoppers one-of-a-kind Christmas gifts in 1959.  Available here were the 30-copy edition of Picasso’s Cocu Magnifique, with 12 signed etchings for $36,000; or Chagall’s The Circus, priced at $6,500. For the less extravagant shopper, Salvatore Dali’s Alice in Wonderland could be purchased for $750.

In 1983 the magnificent Art Deco Bonwit Teller building designed by E. J. Kahn diagonally across the avenue was demolished to be replaced by the splashy Trump Tower.  Paul Goldberger, writing in The New York Times said “the overall effect was to change the nature of the avenue, replacing the dignity of the old masonry buildings with the glitter of the new.”

On the tail of Donald Trump’s spectacle came the threat of another.  In 1984 rumors of plans to demolish Nos. 712 and 714 to create an L-shaped 44-story skyscraper circulated.  Preservationists scrambled to protect the buildings, noting in part that the Coty Building next door contained three stories of irreplaceable and priceless Rene Lalique windows.

Although both buildings were granted landmark designation; it applied only to the facades.  In 1985 the architectural firms of Kohn Pederson Fox Associates and Schuman Lichtenstein Claman & Efron designed a 56-story tower for Solomon Equities “to slip behind the facades of the landmark Rizzoli and Coty Buildings.” 

The new trend of “facadism” was highly controversial.  While it maintained the historic face of the Fifth Avenue block, the two buildings were now, as described by Paul Goldberger, “a doormat for the tower, a small stoop cowering before a ponderous skyscraper of entirely different scale.”

The facades serve as false fronts to the soaring skyscraper behind.

The L. Alavoine & Co. building, as well as the Coty Building, survive in the form of stage sets in front of the looming skyscraper.  But, at least, the early 20^th century commercial personality of the block has been preserved.

photographs by the author

The J. Woodward Haven Mansion -- No. 18 East 79th Street

Most American architects in the years surrounding the turn of the last century considered themselves the inheritors of all that had gone before.  A Renaissance-inspired house designed by prolific architect Clarence True, for instance, might sprout Flemish stepped gables; or another architect might create a hybrid mansion from as many as three disparate styles.  The same could not be said of Ogden Codman, Jr.

Codman was born into privilege in Boston; but in 1875, at the age of 12, moved to Dinard, an American resort colony in France, where he remained until 1884.  He greatly admired French architecture of the 16^th through 18^th centuries; and so when he designed the homes of American millionaires, he did not adulterate the architecture he loved.

In the spring of 1908 banker J. Woodward Haven and his family were living at No. 100 East 79^th Street, at the southeast corner of Park Avenue.  When his father, financier and railroad tycoon George Griswold Haven, died in March that year, Haven received a substantial inheritance (his widowed step-mother received nothing because of her personal fortune estimated at $20 million).  Haven now looked to upgrade his living conditions.

He commissioned Ogden Codman, Jr. to design a mansion two blocks east at No. 18 East 79^th Street; closer to Central Park and ultra-fashionable Fifth Avenue. Codman filed plans that summer.  They called for a five-story, 30-foot wide residence to cost $150,000—in the neighborhood of $4 million today.  The Sun described the proposed mansion saying “It is to be of Colonial design, with a façade of limestone and a mansard story finished in terra cotta with an ornamental balcony.  The dining room and reception parlor will be on the main floor, reached through a vestibule hall paved with marble.  The second story will contain the drawing room and picture gallery, and the fourth floor will be fitted with children’s rooms and a playroom.”

Codman may well have been offended by the newspaper’s description of the townhouse as “of Colonial design.”  He had meticulously made scale drawings of an 18^th century house in Bordeaux, which he then adapted for the Haven mansion.   A historical purist, the resulting house was essentially a recreation; a French period piece set on a Manhattan block.

The Haven family, or perhaps merely New York society columnists, were a bit over-eager for the house to be completed.  On October 25, 1908, only a few months after the plans were filed, The New York Times lamented “Mr. and Mrs. J. Woodward Haven are to pass the Winter at 100 East Seventy-ninth Street.  They will not be able to get into their new house, 18 East Seventy-ninth Street, this Winter.”

By the following winter season, however, they family would be in the completed mansion.  The New York Times would later mention that the 22-room home “contains outstanding examples of oak paneling and rare marbles, with walls constructed of Caen stone.”

The drawn window coverings suggest the Havens are gone for the summer.  Another hint of summer is the painter at work on the second floor of No. 16 next door.  Interior renovations were normally done when families were gone for the season. from the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art

Despite Haven’s good family name and social standing (The Granite Monthly said of his father “He acquired great wealth and had residences at Newport and Lenox, as well as in New York."), the suspicious circumstances surrounding his marriage to Henrietta Cram 12 years earlier had no doubt prompted drawing room whispers throughout Manhattan.

On January 17, 1897 the New-York Tribune published a single-line article that provoked questions.  “The engagement of Miss Henrietta Cram, daughter of the late Henry A. Cram, and sister of J. Sergeant Cram, to J. Woodward Haven, youngest son of George Griswold Haven, was somewhat of a surprise.” 

The following week, on January 28, the New-York Tribune again gave the pairing a one-sentence notice, saying the wedding “will take place in Trinity Chapel on Saturday, February 6.”  But a fashionable Trinity Chapel wedding would not be.

Just three days later, in reporting that the Bradley Martins had “cards out for a large dinner on the 6^th” of February, The Sun slipped in “On the same day Miss Henrietta Cram and J. Woodward Haven will be quietly married at Mrs. Cram’s house in East Thirty-eighty street.”

But vast wealth had a way of eradicating scandal—hinted or real—and by now the Havens were important players in New York and Lenox society.

Henrietta Haven poured her efforts into various charitable causes and the 79^th Street house was regularly the scene of benefit sales, receptions and other events.  On November 16, 1913, for instance, The Sun noted that she had opened the mansion for the “sale of hats and fancy articles for the benefit of St. Mary’s Free Hospital for Children.”

When the United States entered World War I, Henrietta joined other socialites in helping with war relief.  As American citizens tilled their backyards to plant vegetables, she converted part of the Lenox estate’s gardens into a Victory Garden.  We can most likely assume that Henrietta was not on her hands and knees in the dirt; but her nevertheless commendable efforts resulted in a second place for produce in the Stockbridge Grange annual fair.

The following year on June 7 the 79^th Street mansion was the scene of daughter Katharine Sergeant Haven's wedding to Johnston Livingston Redmond.  Katharine’s little sister, Edith, was one of the two flower girls.  The Sun noted that “Immediately after the ceremony there was an informal reception followed by a seated, wedding breakfast.”

With the Redmonds on their honeymoon, the Haven family apparently took an extended trip as well.  On August 30 it was announced that Joseph P. Grade “of the banking firm” had leased the mansion for the winter season.

Once the family was back, things returned to normal.  Katharine followed in her mother’s footsteps; and on November 22, 1922 the New-York Tribune noted that she would host a sale of “linen, Christmas presents and needlework” for the St. Sylvia’s Cottage Industries of Tivoli-on-Hudson.

1924 was Ethel’s debutante year.  The house was opened for a dinner and dance to introduce her on December 20.

In 1926 Vincent Astor leased the Haven house “for the winter season.”  Whether the Haven family decided to extend their travels; or they simply had trouble getting rid of their tenant is unclear.  In either event, Astor and his wife, Helen Dinsmore Huntington, would stay on far past “the season.”

William "Vincent" Astor was called "the richest boy in the world" when he inherited $69 million following his father's death on the RMS Titanic in 1912.  While living in the Haven mansion, he was Commodore of the New York Yacht Club.  photo from the collection of the Library of Congress.

In the Havens’ absence, entertainments in the mansion were glittering affairs.  On November 12, 1926 The New York Times reported that “Prince and Princess Serge Obolensky gave a tea yesterday afternoon at the home of Mrs. Vincent Astor, 18 East Seventy-ninth Street.”  The limited guest list was impressive.  “Among those present were Princess Xenia, Mrs. Edmund L. Baylies, Mrs. Haley Fiske, William B. Leeds, Miss Claire Birge, Miss Mary Hoyt Wiborg, Prince and Princess Gagarine, and Miss Phyllis Byrne.”

The following spring Astor was hospitalized for more than a week.  When he was released on April 8, 1927, newspapers noted that he had been taken “to his home” at 18 East 79^th.  But the Havens got their home back later that year.  On November 20 The New York Times reported that the Astors had signed a lease on a 12-room apartment at No. 1 Sutton Place for the winter.

Henrietta Cram Haven died at Katharine’s summer estate, Callendar House, in Tivoli, New York, on August 14, 1934.  J. Woodward Haven retained possession of the 79^th Street mansion until October 1937 when he sold it to Stanley Grafton Mortimer and his wife, the former Katharine H. Tilford.

The 44-year old was the son of financier Richard Mortimer and was a direct descendant of John Jay, first Chief Justice of the United States.   He had retired from the stock brokerage firm of Russell, Miller & Carey five years earlier, in 1932. But it was not finance for which Mortimer was nationally-famous, but sports.

The New York Times said of him “He was one of the leading amateur racquets players developed in the United States.  With Clarence C. Pell of Westbury, L.I., he stood in the vanguard of the game from 1915 until 1931.”  He had won the national championship four times, and with Pell the national doubles crown nine times.  “Possessor of a magnificent physique and fast on his feet, Mr. Mortimer put on one of the most blinding attacks the game has known,” said The Times.

Richard and Katharine had two daughters and four sons.  They maintained a summer estate in Tuxedo Park.   Shockingly, on the morning of April 5, 1947 the 56-year old athlete suffered a fatal heart attack in the 79^th Street mansion.

Katharine sold the No. 18 in August 1951 to fine arts dealers Duveen Brothers.  Founded in 1877 on Maiden Lane by Sir Joseph and Henry Duveen of Hull, England, the firm had furnished Manhattan’s finest homes with Old Masters, 18^th century French sculpture, and antique European furniture.  The client list included the foremost art collectors in America, with names like Mellon, Huntington, Frick, Bache, Kress and Altman.

 In reporting the sale, The New York Times said “One of the world’s most famous and influential art firms, Duveen Brothers, is moving its paintings by da Vinci, Rubens and other immortals into a celebrated town house at 18 East Seventy-ninth Street in the heart of the elite residential section.” 

Duveen Brothers had been located for years at No. 720 Fifth Avenue, at 56^th Street; but now felt the area was becoming “too commercial.”

In 1955 the original Duveen brothers were dead and the gallery was owned wholly by a former employee, Edward Fowles.  That year a new patron entered the shop, California industrialist and collector Norton Simon. He became a regular visitor, stopping in several times a year when he was on the East Coast.  It was here that he purchased Rembrandt’s Portrait of Hendrickje Stoeffels in 1957.

Simon’s appearance in the gallery late in 1963 would change everything—for Duveen Brothers, for Edward Fowles, for No. 18 East 79^th Street, and even for Norton Simon.  According to Suzanne Muchnic, in her 1998 biography Odd Man In, Norton Simon and the Pursuit of Culture, “he told Fowles that he was interested in buying a group of paintings from him, including "Bernardo Daddi’s early fourteenth-century painting, Madonna and Child Enthroned with Saints John Gualbertus, John the Baptist, Francis, and Nicholas, valued at $40,000, an Italian Renaissance painting, Botticelli’s Madonna and Child with Saint John, priced at $100,000, and The Princess of Orange, by Sir Anthony van Dyck, a seventeenth-century Flemish work with a price tag of $50,000.”

Fowles hesitated.  It was a hefty sale; but it would also heavily deplete his impressive stock.  According to Muchnic, Simon came up with an even more attractive offer.  “Why don’t I buy the whole thing, lock, stock and barrel, including the building?”

Norton Simon kept Fowles on as an occasional consultant.  His purchase included, of course, the mansion, the $14 million worth of art and a 12,000-volumne library valued at $250,000.

Duveen Brothers operated until Friday April 18, 1964 when its nearly century-long tradition of  selling fine artworks came to an end.  According to Suzanne Muchnic, Simon originally agreed to sell the Haven mansion to Acquavella Galleries for $425,000; but decided to trade it for two paintings—Henri Fantin-Latour’s 1895 White and Pink Mallows in a Vase, and Renoir’s Woman with a Rose, painted in 1916.

Acquavella Galleries is still in Ogden Codman, Jr.’s stunning French neo-Classical tour de force today.  

photograph by the author

The Artemas Ward Mansion -- Nos. 6-8 East 78th Street

In 1886 upscale residences were creeping up Fifth Avenue as far north as 78^th Street.  Edward and Amanda Lauterbach owned the properties at Nos. 2 through 8 East 78^th Street, just steps from Central Park.   They sold No. 6 to Louis M. Hornthal and his wife and in January 14, 1887 architect Alfred Zucker filed plans for a “four-story brick and brown sandstone” dwelling with mansard roof.  The upscale, 26-foot wide home carried a projected cost of $75,000—just under $2 million in 2016.  

In the meantime, the Lauterbachs erected their own lavish home at No. 2 East 78^th Street.  On January 7, 1888 the Real Estate Record &  Builders’ Guide published an article entitled “Prominent Buildings Erected During 1887.”   It noted, in part, “Some private residences of importance will also be noticed amongst the list, such as those of I. V. Brokaw, Amanda F. Lauterbach, W. A. Mathesius, Carrie Hornthal and Chas. A. Stein.”

The Turkish-themed staircase hall in the Lauterbach house at No. 2 East 78th Street hints at the interiors of the Hornthall residence.  photo by Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

As noted in the article, Louis Hornthal had placed the title for No. 6 in his wife’s name.  The practice ensured that the 19^th century women were financially secure in the event of their husbands’ death.

Hornthal was a partner in the apparel manufacturing firm Hornthal, Weissman & Co.  He was also a trustee of Grammar School No. 70, not far away on East 75^th Street.  In 1892 he and the other trustees fired the 55-year old principal, Louisa M. Galligan, after teachers accused her of incompetency, conduct unbecoming a lady and generally making their lives miserable.

Louisa Galligan turned the tables on Louis Hornthal, suing him for $50,000 for libel and slander.  When her suit failed, she pressed on.  In 1894 she sued him and the other trustees for $25,000.   During the bizarre trial, the New-York Tribune reported “She had no lawyer but her son, a youth of nineteen.  He tried to examine her, but was so unacquainted with the law that most of his questions were ruled out.”  Her case was dismissed.

Like many wealthy couples, the Hornthals were active in charitable causes.  Carrie was on the Board of Managers of the Mt. Sinai Training School for Misses.  Following graduation exercises on May 22, 1890, The Sun noted “Mr. Louis M. Hornthal has been in the habit of presenting to the graduate whose ward had been most neatly kept a solid silver badge."  The fortunate young lady this year was Miss Delia Jones of Catskill.”

On Thursday, June 21, 1894, Carrie Hornthal died at the age of 45.  The funeral was held in the 78^th Street house the following Sunday morning.   Within two weeks Louis Hornthal abandoned the house he had built with his wife.  On July 4 The New York Times reported that the residence had been sold for $125,000.

The house became home to Stephen Baker, President of the Bank of the Manhattan Company.  He and his family summered at their country estate at Lawrence, Long Island.   Among the social events on 78th Street hosted by the Bakers was a dinner in honor of British physician, Dr. Winfrid T. Grenfell.   Recognized for his Settlement work, he was known as the “missionary of the deep-sea fishermen” for his outreach in Labrador.

In the first decade of the 20^th century, high-stooped rowhouses had fallen from favor.  Wealthy New Yorkers purchased the out-of-date residences and drastically remodeled them, or simply razed and replaced them with modern homes.   When Artemus Ward and his wife, the former Rebecca Dunwoody Robinson, purchased No. 6 and the house next door at No. 8, the Bakers had relocated to No. 8 East 75^th Street.

Ward commissioned John H. Duncan to design a grand home to replace the two old houses.   Construction began in 1913 and was completed the following year.   The elegant, limestone-clad mansion was imperiously reserved.  The central double-door entrance was flanked by two graceful fluted columns with dripping Edwardian detailing.  Service entrances on either side led to the basement and to the servant areas.  An especially handsome stylized Greek key course separated the ground and second floors. 

Duncan’s understated treatment of the façade included a grouping of openings on the second floor below a blank cartouche surrounded by carved oak leaves and acorns.  The third floor windows were decorated with delicate shields and ribbons, and a dormered mansard behind a stone balustrade completed the French neo-Classical design.

Ward had been an advertising executive with Enoch Morgan’s Sons, a soap manufacturer.  In 1910 he co-founded the firm Ward & Gow.  By the time he purchased the 78^th Street property he was the sole partner, having bought out his partner.  The Wards’ summer estate was on Shelter Island, New York.  

Ward added to his large fortune by obtaining a monopoly on newsstands on the elevated train and subway platforms.  His contract with the Interborough Rapid Transit give him exclusive rights “to sell newspapers, magazines, flowers, books, confectionery, and other articles usually sold in stationery stores, but not cigars, tobacco, fruits, or nuts.”  He also had the right to check parcels, and operate “automatic chewing gum, chocolate, and candy machines, as well as weighing machines.”

The monopolistic arrangement did not sit well with publishers and manufacturers.  While Ward paid dearly for the concessions--$600,000 in 1914—so did his suppliers.  He charged publishers $15 a month for every subway and elevated station where their magazines were sold.  They also protested against his despotic rulings on what publications were handled.

Such was the case with Public Weal Publishing Company, publishers of the weekly magazine Fair Play, in January 1912.   One issue contained an article by Nellie Bly entitle “How I Was Robbed of Two Million Dollars.”   The magazine was placed in the newsstands late Thursday night, January 18; but was pulled around 2:00 the following afternoon.

Marcus Braun, editor, received a letter from Ward & Gow “declaring that as the article treated of a matter which was objectionable, and further contained the possibility of a libel, they did not care to take the responsibility of handing it.”  The New York Times remarked “Artemas Ward, head of the firm, refused last night to say who had brought the article to his notice.”

Ward’s firm became Artemas Ward, Inc. following a lawsuit by his former partner over the use of his name.  When Ward was not defending himself in court, which was often, he was filling his 78^th Street mansion with Americana.

He was an authority on documents, especially those related to the American Revolution and the early history of central Massachusetts.  His ancestors included William Ward, who had helped found Sudbury, Massachusetts in 1638.  He published The Life of Artemas Ward, the first Commander in Chief of the Revolution and The William Ward Genealogy.

Ward’s other varied business interests included Chairman of the Board of the Ideal Cocoa & Chocolate Company, Chairman of the Board of the Turkey Knob Orchard, Inc.; and Presidencies of the Broad Acres Dairy Farms, Southeastern Farms, the Leonia Heights Land Company.   It was most likely his involvement with the food and farm concerns that led to his writing The Grocer’s Encyclopedia in 1911 and The Encyclopedia of Food in 1923.

Generous with his vast wealth, Ward erected a library building in Shrewsbury, Massachusetts, including the books to fill it.  He maintained the General Ward homestead there as a house museum.  But his greatest focus was on the needy and the infirm.

He founded the Hospital of Hope in a former mansion at 158^th Street and Mott Avenue.  The institution, which could house 300 crippled men at any time, taught them trades.   

His ongoing philanthropies were evidenced on December 17, 1921 when The New York Times reported “A gift of $4,000 was made to the Hundred Neediest Cases yesterday by Armetas Ward…He sent $1000 each to the Association for Improving the Conditions of the Poor, the Charity Organization Society, the Brooklyn Bureau of Charities and the State Charities Aid Association.”  The newspaper noted “For several years Mr. Ward has made an annual gift of $4,000 for the Hundred Neediest Cases, this being the largest amount they ever have received in any one year from an individual contributor.”

Rebecca Ward had died by the winter of 1925 when Ward’s health began to fail.  His niece, Martina T. Robinson, was living with him at the time.  He developed pneumonia and on March 14 he died in the 78^th Street mansion.  He was 76 years old.

Of Ward’s substantial estate, his son, Artemas Ward, Jr. received $1 million.  The great bulk of the estate went to Harvard, prompting The New York Times to remark that the university “will profit by every cent dropped into the chocolate and gum penny-in-the-slot machines and into the weighing machines in the Interborough subway and elevated stations.”

He did not forget his domestic staff, however.  To each of the 12 servants in the Shelter Island estate he gave $1,000 “except in the cast of Captain George B. Wells” who received $2,000.  It was a tidy windfall for the staff, the lesser amount equal to about $14,000 today.

The mansion on 78^th Street became home to the family of Dr. Reginald Burbank.  The doctor and his wife, the former Kathryn Poole, had a son, Reginald, Jr. and two daughters, Marion and Margaret.   Their summer estate was in western Massachusetts.

The family was little affected by the Great Depression.  It was a fortunate circumstance for Burbank, for the social expectations associated with bringing up two privileged daughters were high.  And expensive.

In 1936 Marion Burbank was introduced to society.  She hosted her own tea that fall “for members of the debutante and junior committee” who were aiding in the sale of tickets for a fund-raiser.  The All-Star Amateur Boxing Tournament in Madison Square Garden was for the benefit of a hospital.

Although Marion was officially introduced at a reception on Thanksgiving Day afternoon, the entertainments continued into 1937.  On January 2 her parents gave a dinner in her honor in the Corinthian Room of the Pierre Hotel, and on April 3 they hosted a supper dance in the house.

The year 1942 must have proved socially hectic for Kathryn.  On February 12 Marion was married to John Walker McNeely in the chapel of the Church of the Heavenly Rest.  Seven months later Margaret’s engagement to Army Lt. Arthur Curtiss Welch was announced.  The New York Times reported that she, too, would be married in the Heavenly Rest chapel.

The Burbanks remained in the 78^th Street house for decades.  When Kathryn’s brother, Dr. Mark K. Poole arrived as a house guest in July 1960, his visit to New York drew attention.   Poole had spent the last 24 years as a medical missionary in the Congo, the director of a 120-bed jungle hospital.  He had fled the war-torn country when guerillas attacked mission.

Kathryn Poole Burbank died at the age of 73 on May 16, 1970.  Her husband died on New Year’s Day three years later. 

By the 1990s a cosmetology office was located in the house; but in 2006 advertising mogul Donny Deutsch purchased it for $21 million.  His $20 million gut renovation obliterated the Edwardian interiors, leaving only the landmarked façade intact.  His architect, Frederic Schwartz explained to Architectural Digest that Deutsch “wanted it to be sophisticated, spectacular, and over-the-top.”

photo Architectural Digest via NYCurbed

A problem arose, however, when Deutch did not pay for the work.  In May 2012 Schwartz file for an extended lien against the property, saying he had never been paid his $1.79 million fee.   The contractor had also filed a lien, in 2010, claiming it was owed $40,250 for the work.  And the architectural renderer, Andrew Hickes, complained that he was never paid the $11,000 fee for illustration work on the renovation.

In the meantime, John Duncan’s sedate façade survives unchanged, an early 20^th century stage set fronting starkly 21^st century interiors.

non-credited photographs by the author