The Lost Robert F. Weir House - 11 East 54th Street

The Weir house replaced a brownstone identical to those at the far left and right.   photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In the last quarter of the 19th century the family of George Rhett Cathcart lived in the 20-foot wide brownstone rowhouse at No. 11 East 54th Street, steps from fashionable Fifth Avenue.  Cathcart became seriously ill in the spring of 1892 and died at the family's Newport estate on June 27.  Seven years later, in May 1899, the 54th Street house was sold to Dr. Robert F. Weir.

Although the residence was only about 20 years old, it was architecturally outdated.  Weir wasted no time in changing that.  A month after he purchased No. 11 architects George A. Freeman and Charles Chary Thain filed plans for a five-story replacement dwelling.  Their American basement plan would do away with the high stoop that had been such a prominent feature of the Cathcart house.

The architects produced a restrained and dignified take on the popular Beaux Arts style.  A prominent columned portico fronted the rusticated stone base and provided a roomy iron-railed balcony at the second floor.  The second through fourth floors were clad in beige brick and trimmed in limestone.  A full-width balcony ran along the fourth floor and the fifth took the form of a mansard, pierced with a stone dormer flanked by French oculi.

Born in 1838, Weir had married Maria Washington McPherson in 1863.  The New York Surgical Society was founded in his home in 1879, and by now he was president of the New York Academy of Medicine.  The couple had a grown daughter, Alice Washington, born in 1850, who was married to Edward La Montague.

Dr. Robert Fulton Weir, from the archives of The Century Association

Weir was the personal physician of some of Manhattan's most socially-notable citizens, including the Rockefellers.  William Rockefeller was a close neighbor of Dr. Weir, living at the corner of 54th Street at No. 689 Fifth Avenue.  

In mid-May 1900 Rockefeller became ill and despite having been confined to his home for some time, he traveled to his 1,000-acre country estate, Rockwood Hall, on May 26.   Two days later Dr. Weir was called there.  He diagnosed appendicitis.  According to the patient's son, William G. Rockefeller, Weir cautioned "that the attack might recur at any time unless the operation was done and that it was best to operate while his general health was perfectly normal and there was a minimum of risk."  And so Weir, assisted by Dr. Henry Walker, performed a successful appendectomy on the multi-millionaire in his Tarrytown bedroom.

Dr. Weir performed surgery on William Rockefeller in this country estate, Rockwood Hall.

When Colonel Washington A. Roebling fell ill in the fall of 1902, it was Dr. Weir who attended to him.  Roebling, of course, is best known as the engineer who supervised the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge, designed by his father, John A. Roebling.

At the time the wealthy property owners in the immediate neighborhood of Weir's residence were faced with a serious threat.  A year earlier John Jacob Astor, Jr. had demolished the mansions at the southeast corner of Fifth Avenue and 55th Street and begun construction of the 19-story St. Regis Hotel.  Millionaires now joined forces to keep the incursion of commerce to a minimum.  Their tactics included buying up houses as they became available to prevent developers from obtaining a foothold.

Dr. Weir joined in the offensive.  On April 26, 1902 the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that he had purchased the two abutting brownstones, Nos. 15 and 13 West 54th Street, for $175,000 "to protect No. 11, which he owns and occupies."  That price would equal about $5.36 million today.  He resold the residences a month later to John R. Drexel, who promised to "erect an American basement dwelling on the plot," according to the Record & Guide.

Seven months later, on December 12, the New-York Tribune reported that Weir had purchased No. 3, directly behind the William Rockefeller mansion.  The article said he bought the property "to preserve for a residential district the attractions of the neighborhood in which he lives."

On December 5, 1908 the New-York Tribune reported that Weir had leased No. 11 East 54th Street to Dr. Henry W. Weist "for a term of years."  The article added "Dr. Robert F. Weir is going abroad for about six months."  The physicians most likely knew one another well.  Weist was a member of the New York Academy of Medicine, of which Weir was president.

The Weirs never returned to the 54th Street house.  On September 3, 1910 The New York Press announced they had sold it to their next-door neighbors Alice T. and John R. Drexel.  The price was $140,000, or just under $3.9 million today.  Drexel followed in Weir's footsteps in buying property along the block simply to protect his own home.

The handsome residence to the left of the Weir house, at No. 9 East 54th Street, belonged to Charles Boyd Curtis. photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York     

The following year, in September, he leased it to Mme. Luis Pastor y de Mora.  It was not long before the colorful socialite brought press attention to No. 11.

Born Constance Cazenove Lee in Baltimore, she was a grandniece of General Robert E. Lee and was married to the Spanish Minister to China.  The Evening World mentioned "Some of the servants told reporters that Mrs. de Mora's husband was in China most of the time and that they had never seen him."

A month after she moved into No. 11 West 54th Street she went on a shopping spree in a Fifth Avenue store, buying a "Cleopatra gown, $335; blue velvet suit, $134; gold lace French hat, $85; pink kimono, $65; motor coat, $57; [and a] shirtwaist, $35," according to The Evening World.  The total bill would equal nearly $20,000 today.  When Mrs. de Mora had not paid for the clothing by December, a collection agency sent a process server to the house.  And then another.  And another.

"Mrs. de Mora's residence, according to all accounts, has resembled a castle under siege for several days past," reported The Evening World.  "Three process servers have been camped outside part of the time."  One of them, Henry H. Kutner, rang the bell on December 21, 1911 and was told to return the following day when Mrs. de Mora would be in.  As he left, he heard a noise at an upper window "and saw there the lady herself in her pink kimono inviting him to leave before she called a policeman.  She was not a bit mad about it and smiled," said the article, "but she didn't come down and accept service."

Two days later, after having waited outside the door in the rain, Kutner considered making "an affidavit so strong they'll let him serve his papers by nailing them to her door."

A year after the disturbing incident, Drexel gave up the fight against commerce.  On December 3, 1912 the New-York Tribune reported that he had leased it "for a term of years to Carlhian & Co., a French decorating firm."  The article noted "Extensive alterations will be made to the house."

By 1921 the former mansion was home to the P. Jackson Higgs gallery.  In December that year he staged an exhibition of 38 paintings from the M. I. Montaignac collection of Paris, including Corot's Hamlet, Renoir's Baigneuse Assise, the Danseuses Vertes by Degas, and three works by Courbet, three Monets, a Pissaro and several Old Masters.

This Renoir was among the paintings on exhibition in 1921. from the collection of the Musee de l'Orangerie 

The gallery was the target of art thieves in 1926.  On August 3 The New York Sun reported "Thieves who entered an art gallery containing $1,000,000 worth of treasures spent several hours rummaging among its delectable works of art and were frightened off after selecting about $100,000 worth of pieces which they may never be able to dispose of."  The article deemed the neighborhood "one of the most heavily guarded districts of the city."

It was one of the largest art thefts in years.  The crooks made off with Gobelin and Outdenards tapestries, Syrian and Persian glass jars, a silver figure of Hercules described as "the finest example of Renaissance sculpture in America," and other irreplaceable treasures.  Higgs told police that the objects were "of such fame in the art world that efforts to dispose of them would arouse suspicion."

The thieves left masterpieces like a Van Dyck portrait of a nobleman and a Romney portrait valued at about $1.8 million and $650,000 respectively in today's money.

Detectives doggedly investigated the case and, just as Higgs had predicted, the pieces were easily identified when they hit the market.  The first arrest came in October 1927 after Chinese and Japanese antiques showed up in the store of Marie Simmons on West 49th Street.  She was cleared of any wrongdoing, but Henry Ghiggeri, from whom she purchased them, was arrested for dealing in stolen property and later found guilty.

The art gallery remained much of the Weir interiors, including the staircase and plasterwork. original source unknown  

In November 1936 P. Jackson Higgs announced it would be leaving its home of more than a decade.  The subsequent tenants would be much less impressive.  On October 14, 1938 Ann Grady signed a lease for the second floor for "for a beauty parlor," as reported by The New York Times.

There were show windows on the first and second floors by 1941.  photo via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The upper floors continued to be leased as apartments.  One tenant brought scandal to the address in 1948.  Madeleine Blavier rented rooms here that year.  She allowed a friend, Nancy Choremi to use the apartment on occasion.  Neighbors were no doubt shocked when the State of New York took Nancy to court in 1949 for "acts of prostitution" which had taken place there.

The five former mansions at Nos. 3 through 11 West 54th Street survived until 1954.  On July 13 that year The New York Times reported that plans had been filed for a 19-story office building on the site, designed by Richard and Emery Roth.

photo via commercialobserver.com

The A. S. Leo Everett House -- No. 134 E 70th Street

As Manhattan’s workforce returned home following the Civil War development of the Upper East Side exploded—as did John Sexton’s architectural business.  Sexton became busy designing stretches of identical rowhouses for speculative developers as the blocks east of Park Avenue (then known as Fourth Avenue) changed from open land to residential neighborhoods.

Three years before John Sexton would design the 11 homes on north side of the 69^th Street block between Fourth and Lexington Avenues, he focused on the south side of East 70th.  In 1869 he produced five homes here for operators R. & J. Cunningham; Nos. 128 through 136. 

The completed Italianate-style brownstones were up to date.  Three bays wide, Sexton added a mansard roof, the latest in architectural fashion recently imported from Paris.  The arched doorways were echoed in the arched openings at the English basement level.

By the last decades of the century, the formerly middle-class neighborhood became increasingly fashionable after the offensive train tracks of Park Avenue moved below ground.  In the late 1880s the house at No. 134 was home to the Marks Lissberger family.  Lissberger was called by The Sun the “dean of the white metal business.”

Born in Germany, he arrived in New York City in 1844 and founded the smelting firm of Marks Lissberger & Son when he was still a young man.  Lissberger and his wife had two children, Jennie and Milton.  By the time we purchased the 70^th Street house Lissberger had garnered a sizable fortune.  His refinery was located at No. 506 West Street (before long he would erect a new facility in Long Island City).  A Freemason and member of several clubs, he had a reputation for his affiliation with charitable causes.

It was his passion for billiards, however, for which Lissberger was best known.  For decades he had been a charter member of the Amateur Billiard Club and played in dozens of tournaments.

Around 5:00 on the afternoon of June 12, 1891 Jennie Lissberger was walking home along Madison Avenue.  She became aware of a young man, later described by The Evening World as “a fine-looking young Brooklyn plumber,” who seemed to be following her for some time. 

Then, according to The New York Times the following day, he “started forward and suddenly snatched her pocketbook from her hand and then dashed down the avenue.”  The Evening World reported “She screamed and bystanders put chase.”  The mob of citizens running after the thief, later identified as John Taylor, attracted policemen who joined in the chase.

The Evening World said “Taylor finally ran plump into the arms of Policeman Schein in Sixty-first street.”  At the 67th Street station house, the 25-year old explained his crime.  “Taylor said he took the pocket book because he had long been unsuccessfully searching for work and needed money,” reported The World.

Unfortunately for Taylor, the snatching of Jennie Lissberger’s pocketbook—which contained only twenty-five cents—earned him the charge of highway robbery.

Jennie did not go unnoticed among fashionable society.  In 1897 Joseph Aubin Smith, while commenting on the summer season at Saratoga, said “Miss Jennie Lissberger, Miss Belle Hermann and Miss Bertha Mayer are a trinity of beauties who are showered with admiration; and all three will inherit wealth as well as beauty.”

The well-dressed Marks Lissberger was President of the successful smelting firm -- Melting Industry magazine December 1917 (copyright expired)

By now, however, the Lissberger family had moved away from East 70^th Street.  The house was home to Dr. J. Baran.   But by the turn of the century owner Susan A. Brooks seems to have leased space in the house to other tenants affiliated with the medical field.  In 1902 Emily Elliott lived here.  She was a member of the Nurses’ Associated Alumnae of the United States.  Also in the house was Dr. Edwin Brown Jenks who practiced here, advertising “anesthetizing a specialty.”

It would be a short-term arrangement.  When Susan Brooks sold the house in 1905 the block was radically changing.  Wealthy New Yorkers were purchasing the outdated Victorians and either razing them or drastically remodeling them into modern mansions. 

This transaction would be slightly different.  On May 5, 1905 The New York Times reported that Brooks had sold the “four-story brownstone dwelling” to John L. Martin.  Martin was a contractor, not a banker or attorney; and his intentions to remodel the old house had nothing to do with his living in it.

He apparently quickly resold the property to A. S. Leo Everett with the condition that he would handle the renovations.  A month later, on June 10, the Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide reported that “John L. Martin, 314 Madison av., has received the contract for alterations to No. 134 East 70^th st., a 4-sty brick and stone dwelling owned by A. S. Leo Everett.”  Already the architects had been chosen—“Freeman & Hasselman, 566 Fifth av. are the architects.”

At the time many architects were serving up the trendy neo-Federal or neo-Georgian styles to their wealthy clients.  Brownstone facades gave way to red brick trimmed in white stone that mimicked the prim 18^th century homes of London and Boston.  But architect George A. Freeman went in a different direction.

For Everett he produced a five-story Tudor Revival fantasy of red brick and stone-mullioned openings.  By hiding the top two floors behind a hefty brick and stone parapet, the architect preserved the proportions of the house which pretended to be three stories tall.

The Everetts lived in the remodeled house for over a decade.  In 1914 Caroline Everett no doubt impressed the neighbors with her new Hudson automobile.   But in 1917 they were leasing the residence.  That year Karl Etzold, President and Director of the Bow River Valley Development Co., lived here.  In 1918 the family of Elbridge L. Adams was in the house.  Son William H. Adams was an ensign in the United States Navy and married Mary Miner that year in a fashionable Greenwich, Connecticut ceremony.

On September 23, 1919 the Everetts leased the furnished house to R. Penn Smith Jr. and his wife.  Mrs. Smith was the former Carol Harriman, daughter of the immensely wealthy railroad tycoon and financier E. Henry Harriman. Four months after signing the lease the couple had their second child, a daughter, who was born in the house on December 15.

At the end of the Smiths’ lease in 1920, the Everetts sold the house to W. Woods Plankington.  Like the Everetts, he rented the furnished house.  Later that year Henry De Forest Manice moved in.

As the 1920s drew to a close and the Great Depression loomed unseen on the horizon, No. 134 East 70^th Street was the home of J. H. Wright, President of the Home Pattern Company, and his family.  Wright lived here with his second wife and two children.  Although his business had exceeded $1 million in 1926, in 1928 he complained that profits had fallen off.  Therefore, in March 1927 he stopped paying the $1,000 per month alimony to his first wife, Mrs. J. Howie Wright, who was now living in Ireland.

The decision would cause serious repercussions.  In April 1928, in an effort to secure the $8,275 in back alimony (a considerable $105,000 today), Mrs. Wright sued to have her former husband’s property sequestered. 

Before long the Tudor house would cease being a single-family home—at least for 80 years. On October 31, 1930 The New York Times reported that the Italian Government had purchased the property “for its consulate offices in this city.”  The newspaper added that “Alterations to the building costing about $50,000 will be made from plans by Rosario Candela, architect.”

The Italian-American architect had already made a name for himself through the upscale apartment buildings he designed throughout the previous decade.  Among his renovations to the former Everett house for the Italian Government was a store window broken through the façade on the first floor for the consulate’s tourism office.

Among the first events held in the renovated building was the conferring of awards on two Manhattan businessmen.  The Order of the Crown of Italy was presented to Philip Le Boutillier, President of Best & Co., and to Jerome S. Hess of the legal firm of Hardin, Hess and Eder on December 12, 1931.  The New York Times noted “It was conferred by the King of Italy, through the Italian Consul General, Emanuele Grazzi.”

Things in the new consulate would quickly take a turn for the worse, however.  Two weeks later, on December 30, two postal workers were killed by mail bombs in a post office in Easton, Pennsylvania.  Two of six bombs, “apparently designed by anti-Fascists to kill prominent Italians and others in New York,” exploded at the facility.  Four other postal clerks were injured.  One of the packages was addressed to Consul General Grazzi at the East 70^th Street Consulate.

For the next few years East 70^th Street would be mobbed with anti-Fascist protestors as one demonstration after another rallied in front of the building.  On September 9, 1935, a hearing on disorderly conduct charged against protestors began in Yorkville court.  The Times reported that the three members of the American League Against War and Fascism “were arrested…when they refused to obey a police order to move their place of meeting opposite the consulate.”

As the hearing commenced, a unidentified man telephoned police headquarters “and reported that he had overheard four men in a Brooklyn restaurant plotting to put a bomb in the court room and throw dynamite into the consulate.”  Court was adjourned and a police detail was assigned to the consulate on East 70^th Street.

It was not the end of anti-Italian protestors in The Yorkville Court.  Eight days later Magistrate August Dreyer heard the testimonies regarding an ink-stained suit.  Along with protest against the Fascist regime in Italy, many Americans were upset with “the Italian attitude toward Ethiopia.”

Prince Guido Colonna, whom The Times said was “a member of one of the oldest Roman families,” took the stand.  He testified that two black women--25-year old Jane Speed and her aunt, 57-year old Julia Church Kolar--had entered the consulate on September 7 and asked for tourism information.  Then, he said, the conversation turned to Ethiopia.  Suddenly Jane Speed shouted “We are here to protest against war and fascism.  I wish I could go to Italy and tear the black shirt from Mussolini.”

The prince testified that when he asked the women to leave and took Jane Speed by the arm, she shouted “Don’t you touch me,” and grabbed a bottle of ink.  In the scuffle the ink was spilled on the prince’s suit.  He brought it along to court as evidence.

The New York Times made a great deal of the racial aspects of the hearing.  “Most of the court room spectators were Negroes, many of whom wore green, red and black buttons inscribed ‘Defend Ethiopia.’  The defendants are white.  Twenty patrolmen, including several Negroes, were stationed in court.”

The upscale neighbors no doubt breathed a sigh of relief when the following March the Italian Government sold the house to the Fifth Avenue and Twelfth Street Corporation.  At the time protests were still clogging the sidewalks and upsetting the peace of the otherwise tranquil neighborhood.  On reporting the sale, The Times noted that the building “will be remodeled by the new owners into small apartments.”

And within the year the conversation was completed.  There were now eight apartments—one on the ground floor, one on the top floor and two each on the floors between.  The spacious apartments attracted upscale tenants for decades; then in the 1960s the Nordness Art Galleries took over the street level.  It would stay on in the building for years.

Change came in 2006 when Mark and Judy Goodman planned a reconversion to a single family house.  The problem was, of course, that unseemly store window.  Their architect, Oliver Cope, designed a neo-Tudor window in keeping with the overall design.  His use of matching materials won approval of the Landmarks Preservation Commission (the house sits within the Upper East Side Historic District).

Almost all of the 1860s and ‘70s rowhouses along the block were updated in the first decades of the 20^th century; but the wonderful restored Tudor at No. 134 stands out among them.

photos by the author

The 1905 Lambs Club Building - 128 West 44th Street

photograph by Epigenius

Proper Victorians viewed those in the theatrical profession as socially undesirable.  As elite gentlemen’s clubs sprouted around the city in after the Civil War, a group of actors and musicians formed their own club, The Lambs.

Founded in 1874 its expressed purpose was to provide “the social intercourse of members of the dramatic and musical professions with men of the world, and the giving of entertainments for mutual amusement and instruction.”

The club was named after British drama critic and essayist Charles Lamb and his wife, Mary, who hosted a weekly open house for those in the theatre, its meeting place was called “the Fold” and its members, “Lambs.”  Continuing the tongue-in-cheek language, the president and vice-president were the “Shepherd and the Boy,” and yearly outings were known as “Washings” or “Shearings.”

In 1897 the club moved into its first permanent home at 70 West 36th Street; however, within a matter of years it outgrew the facility.  Members would regularly stage both private and public productions called Gambols (satiric revues).  These eventually led to the need for their own private theatre after contention arose among members over the use of certain public venues.

In 1902 the Lambs proposed to erect a new clubhouse.  “The club had not intended to build for four or five years,” announced De Wolf Hopper, the shepherd, “but at an information meeting last night it was decided to put up a new building, to contain our own theatre for gambols, etc., within a year.”

Among the members were Charles Follen McKim, William Rutherford Mead, and Stanford White.  Not surprisingly, their architectural firm, McKim, Mead and White, was chosen to design the new clubhouse.  Lots were purchased at 128 and 130 West 44th Street near the Broadway theatre district as the site of the new structure.

The original Lambs Club in 1905 -- drawing from nyago.com

Stanford White headed up the design.  The brick and marble neo-Georgian style building with terra-cotta embellishment was completed in 1905.  A marble street-level base supports an impressive second story of high French windows and paired Ionic columns.  Between the arched windows of the third floor, lambs’ heads peer down from the Flemish-bond brickwork.

The first floor housed the lobby with a row of telephones, a billiard room and a grill room.  The banquet hall faced 44th Street behind the large second floor windows.  The Lambs’ private theatre was installed on the third floor, while above were offices and sleeping rooms for the members.

The Lambs Club as it appears today -- architectural rendering provided by Andrew J. Hickes, rendering.net

Ten years later the building was doubled in size by architect George A. Freeman who added a mirror-image addition.

The atmosphere of the club was distinctly different than that of other gentlemen’s clubs. “While many of the clubhouses of the Big Town display constantly the dignity and spirit of Greenwood Cemetery on a rainy Saturday afternoon, the Lambs is as full of snap and ginger as an outlaw bronco, a bunch of freshly lighted firecrackers, or a schoolboy the first day of vacation,” quipped The New York Times in 1914.  The writer continued:

While other clubs are renowned because of the magnificence of their homes, the opulence and social position of their members, the excellence of their libraries and art collections, their exclusiveness, picturesqueness, eccentricities and efforts toward civic, political and economic improvement, the Lambs base their claim to fame on the individual members.

Indeed, the halls and rooms were home over the years to such members as the Barrymores (other than Ethel), Irving Berlin, Cecil B. DeMille, David Belasco, Charlie Chaplin, Douglas Fairbanks, Richard Rodgers, Oscar Hammerstein II, Fred Astaire, George M. Cohan, Spencer Tracy and hundred of theatrical luminaries.

The membership did not include, however, females.  “The Lambs permit no women other than housemaids and scrubwomen to pass their portals, and then only by the servants’ entrance,” noted The New York Times.  There was one time, however, when a well-known Broadway actress strode into the club around midnight, walked into the crowded grill room and announced “Good evening, gentlemen.”

The actress then walked out, leaving the group of Lambs dumbstruck.

That the members were passionate about their club, was no more evident than in 1954 when the will of comedian Joe Laurie, Jr. requested that his ashes be cast into “a roaring fire some winter’s day in the fireplace at the Lambs Club.”

Problems came in 1974 when the club was in danger of losing the building to a $350,000 mortgage.  In December a fund-raising gala was held to try to stave off receivership.  But it was all too late.

In May of the following year the building was taken over by the Manhattan Church of the Nazarene which announced its intention “to clean up Times Square.”

The Chatwal's Art Deco-inspired lobby -- photo LHW.com

Thirty years later Indian-born businessman Sant Singh Chatwal purchased the building, converting it to the Chatwal Hotel.  After a renovation that took several years, the hotel opened in 2010.  Stanford White’s turn-of-the-century interiors were, for the most part, gutted and replaced by sleek neo-Art Deco spaces.

Some of the original detailing survives in the Chatwal interiors -- photo LHW.com

The exterior of the former Lambs Club was designated a New York City landmark in 1974.