The Lost North Dutch Church - William and Fulton Streets

Edward Lamson Henry painted this depiction in 1869, probably for the church's centennial.  from the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art

The homestead of John Harpendingh (originally spelled Herbendinck) sat at the corner of Maiden Lane and Broadway.  Harpendingh was "a worthy tanner," as described by The New York Times a century later.  He is remembered today in John Street, originally a lane that ran through his property.  By 1767, his farm had been invaded by streets and buildings.

At the time, the North Dutch Church worshiped in a stone building on Nassau Street.  In 1767, the Consistory of the Reformed Dutch Church resolved that a new edifice "should be erected on the grounds of Mr. John Harpendingh [and] that it should front Horse and Cart lane, and be placed in the middle of the lot."  (Horse and Cart Lane derived its name from a tavern on that street.)  Harpendingh had donated a parcel on his property for the project, and on July 2, 1767 the cornerstone was laid by James Roosevelt.

According to a metal plate discovered under an interior pillar later, construction was executed by "Andrew Breested, Jr. carpenter and protector" and "John Stagg, master mason, and Alex Bates."  The men drew inspiration from Georgian-style churches in London, specifically those designed by James Gibbs.  The openings of the fieldstone walls were framed by quoins--known as Gibbs surrounds.  The four-tiered steeple included a square pedestal, a four-sided clock tower, an octagonal belfry, and a lantern from which a copper weather vane in the form of a cock sprouted.  

from the collection of the New York Public Library

The building would sit at the northwest corner of Horse and Cart Lane (later William Street) and Fair Street (later Fulton Street).  The churchyard at the northern side of the church abutted Ann Street.  Construction was completed in March 1769 at a cost of £12,000.  (The amount would translate to nearly $4 million in 2026.)  The first service was held on May 25.  A century later, The New York Times remarked, "The building was looked upon in those days as one of singular beauty and grandeur, and was pointed at with pleasure and pride as one of the wonders of Manhattan Island."

Inside were ten fluted columns, each contributed by a wealthy congregant.  Architect Samuel A. Warner described them in 1852 as being "all finely carved and finished, and on their friezes rendered conspicuous by gilding the initials of the generous contributors."  The mahogany pulpit was "a wonderful piece of Dutch carving imported from the Netherlands," recalled The New York Times in 1872.  Above the pulpit was the coat of arms of the Harpendingh family.  The ceiling was barrel-vaulted, and the pews, with their paneled doors, were "finished with mahogany railings and scrolls," according to Warner.

When the British Army occupied Manhattan during the Revolutionary War, churches were sorely abused.  The North Dutch Church was converted to a prison, holding around 1,000 captives.  The New York Times recounted in 1872: 

When the English arrived the piers were torn down, the pulpit was sent to London as a free-will offering, and a floor was laid from gallery to gallery, forming an upper story.  The wood of the piers was sold at public auction for fuel.

The British evacuated Manhattan in November 1783.   The New York Times said, "When the English retired, the congregation purified their church, restored the piers, tore away the boarding of the upper floor, and recommenced the services of the Lord."  The New York Herald recorded, "in September, 1784, the church having been restored by public subscription, was formally reopened by a sermon from the Rev. Dr. [John H.] Livingston." 

from the collection of the New York Public Library

By mid-century, the former semi-rural neighborhood was a bustling commercial district.  In 1852, a Day Prayer Meeting was initiated, held every Wednesday at noon.  A pamphlet titled "The Noon Prayer Meeting of the North Church" explained, "This meeting is intended to give merchants, mechanics, clerks, strangers and business men generally, an opportunity to stop and call upon God amid the daily perplexities incident to their respective avocations."

Midcentury tastes in decor had greatly strayed from the North Dutch Church's simple 18th century design.  While congregants were at their country homes in the summer of 1856, the interior of the church was renovated.  On August 31, The New-York Dispatch reported, "The venerable edifice on the corner of Fulton and William streets, known as the North Dutch Church, has recently been thoroughly overhauled, repaired and painted, and will be thrown open as a free church this day."  Noting that it was "one of the oldest of our church edifices," the article noted, "although, about ninety years old, [it] exhibits no signs of decay, and is at present one of the strongest buildings of its kind in the city."

The first threat to the North Dutch Church came in 1866.  On January 21, The New York Times reported, "the Consistory of the Collegiate Reformed Dutch Church of this city have decided to pull down the church building at the corner of Fulton and William streets, and lease the ground for business purposes."  The backlash was immediate.  The following day, a letter from the congregants to the Consistory was reproduced in the newspaper.  It said in part,

We, the undersigned, lay members of the North Dutch Church, having been for some time past silent, but by no means disinterested spectators of the course pursued by your body, with regard to that church, feel that a crisis has now arrived, in which to be longer silent would subject us to the charge, if not openly by others, at least by our own consciences, of a criminal remissness and neglect of duty.

The long letter did not hold back in its condemnation of the Consistory.  And the groundswell worked.  The organization tabled its plans to lease the ground and demolish the structure.

Early on the morning of October 27, 1869, a fire broke out in a commercial building at 116 Fulton Street.  A strong breeze quickly spread the blaze to neighboring structures.  The New York Herald reported, "the volume of sparks emitted from the burning pile set fire to the steeple of the North Dutch church."  With Victorian prose, the article said, "soon the whole tower, with flames of fire, wild and terrible, a fearful but brilliant sight, fell to the ground."  

Harper's Weekly, November 13, 1869 (copyright expired)

If there were a positive note in the catastrophe, it was that the flaming steeple crashed away from the building rather than collapsing onto it.  The New York Herald said it fell to the side, "breaking and bending the iron railings and gateway surrounding the church."  The damage caused by "the demon of fire" was estimated at $2,000, or about $47,500 today.

The destruction of the tower may have supplied the Consistory the excuse it needed.  On February 26, 1872, The New York Times reported, "The old North Dutch Church...will shortly be among the things of the past.  A twenty years' lease of the ground on which it stands will be sold at auction to-morrow."  The journalist opined, "the removal of the old church would be a cause of deep regret to very many people."  But the Consistory was foiled in its plan.  It had placed a reserve of $16,000 on the annual rental and there were no bidders.  Nevertheless, the organization was resolute.  The New York Times said, "The Consistory will hope to dispose of the lease by private treaty."

Finally, it got its way.  In June 1875, the Consistory leased "a spacious and commodious apartment," as described by a representative, in an adjoining commercial building "where public worship is maintained."  The organization had sold the land lease and the demolition of the venerable church was announced.

As the landmark was razed, some architectural elements were salvaged.  On June 22, 1875, for instance, The New York Times remarked on items purchased by Rutgers College.  "Considerable excitement is anticipated over the arrival of some objects of historic interest from the old North Dutch Church of New-York."  Among them was the weather vane.  "The ancient cock which so long acted as weather-vane for the old church has been regilded and is to be mounted upon the cupola of the college," said the article.

image via showcase.com

The replacement building was demolished in 1939 for the Art Moderne-style, seven-story 111 Fulton Street, designed by Cross & Cross.  In 2007 additional stories were added in a conversion to residential use by architect Karl Fisher.

The Lost Nathaniel Prime Mansion - 90th Street, between Avenue A and First Avenue

 

William Rickarby Miller painted this watercolor of the mansion in 1855, decades before alterations were made.  (original source unknown)

The first Prime to arrive in America, Mark Prime, helped settle Rowley, Massachusetts, where he died in 1683.  Five generations later, in 1768, Nathaniel Prime was born, the fourteenth of fifteen children of Joshua and Bridget Hammond Prime.  The 1898 Prominent Families of New York said, "He was settled in New York before the close of the eighteenth century, and became one of the greatest merchants and bankers of that period."

More specifically, Prime relocated to New York City in 1795 and a year later opened an office on Wall Street, listing himself as "stock and commission broker."  In 1808 he partnered with Samuel Ward III to form Prime & Ward.

Oliver Ingaham Lay copied John Trumbull's earlier portrait of Nathaniel Prime in 1879.

Nathaniel Prime married Cornelia Sands on June 7, 1797.  The couple would have six children.  They moved into the former Kennedy mansion at 1 Broadway.  At the time, wealthy families maintained summer estates in the upper portions of Manhattan, most of them close to the cooling breezes of the East or Hudson Rivers.  In 1800 Prime purchased 24 acres of land "near Hurlgate," as described by The Spur decades later, the area most often called Hell Gate.

The Primes' summer home reflected several of the Georgian architectural details of their townhouse--a second floor Palladian window surmounted by a half-round attic window, for instance.  A full-width veranda caught the river breezes.  Delicate foliate bands ran below the dentiled cornice and pediment.

The rear of the mansion was only slightly less impressive than the front.  Orphans crowd the second floor balcony in this photo.   from the collection of the Frank Cousins Collection of the NYC Public Design Commission.

The Primes were neighbors with wealthy families like the John Jacob Astors (whose summer estate Hellgate took its name from the area), Robert Lenox, and Stephen Whitney.  All of their estates were soon threatened by the relentless northward expansion of the city.  The families joined forces in 1827 when the city proposed to open 86th Street.  According to his 1972 book Origins and History of the Village of Yorkville in the City of New York, among Prime's neighbors to sign a petition were Mary Waldron, Joseph Foulke, Phillip Rhinelander, "and, although they did not sign the petition, John Jacob Astor, Commodore Chauncey and others," opposed the work.

It read in part:

The land on each side is attached to country estates not contemplated to be sold in lots and the proprietors do consider it would be an actual injury to them.  While they would be heavily assessed for it and any improvement, they also show that there are valuable stone walls on each side of the road and some buildings of considerable value to be taken down which will make the assessment very heavy without any material advantage at least for many years to the public.

The push worked, at least for a while, and the estates remained unmolested.  In its January 1835 issue, The American Gardener's Magazine described the Primes' gardens and "forcing houses" where produce was grown, saying, "This place is well known, as containing one of the finest ranges of forcing houses in the vicinity of New York.  These have been built within a few years and the vines, peaches, &c. planted in them, have just come into bearing."  The journalist wrote, "We never observed grapes which set finer, at this early season of the year; the peach trees were also covered with fruit; so much so that they would need thinning out."  The article went on to explain, "Mr. Prime has a large cistern in front of his range, from which water is supplied of the green-house, forcing houses, and to all parts of the garden."  In closing, the writer noted, "The views of the surrounding scenery, from Mr. Prime's pleasure ground, in the summer, is said to be delightful."

Cornelia Sands Prime (original source unknown)

At the time of the article, according to Prominent Families of New York, Nathaniel Prime "was rated as one of the five richest men in America."  He had essentially retired from active business at the time, and moved permanently to the Hell Gate estate.  It was a decision that, in the opinion of the American a few years later, would lead to his death.

Prime, described by The Spur as "stout, thick, short and heavy of build, but a wonderfully shrewd calculator," had become despondent in the fall of 1840.  His condition was serious enough that on November 22 Cornelia called Dr. Edward Delafield to the house.  She told him her husband was "very altered" and "seemed to be under great melancholy."  Prime told the physician that "he looked at things in a gloomy manner, for which he could not account, as he was perfectly easy in his circumstances."  Delafield diagnosed him with "blood to the head, for which I have occasionally bled him," he later told the Morning Herald.

On the morning of November 26, Prime told Cornelia he was going into town.  Those who interacted with him there said he was "well apparently, and cheerful," as reported by the American.  He arrived home at around 1:00 and had luncheon with Cornelia.  The Morning Herald reported, "At 2 o'clock...he withdrew from the dining table, and retired to his bedroom."  He took a book with him and told Cornelia he was going to rest for awhile.

Thirty minutes later she entered the bedroom.  The Morning Herald related:

Upon examining the apartment it appeared that he had laid upon the bed--that he had taken his coat and cravat off, and that he had been reading his prayer book--it was found open either on or near the bed, and his spectacles lying near it.  He had evidently risen from the bed, taken a razor, placed himself before small looking glass, at which he was accustomed to shave, and there cut his throat, after doing which he went into another room, laid the razor down and fell upon the floor, on the spot where he was found by Mrs. Prime.

Dr. Delafield opined "he committed the act under a temporary derangement of intellect," and the coroner's jury decided he "put an end to his own existence, in a temporary fit of mental alienation, produced by bodily indisposition."  The American had its own explanation, blaming Prime's retirement.  "The want of its accustomed work may possibly have caused the mind to prey upon itself."  The newspaper said Prime's shocking death offered an important lesson: "Never to abandon the mental or other pursuits that may have contributed to your rise in life--stick to this oar till you go down, and you will go down in good temper, and like a man."

Cornelia would live until 1852, but she almost immediately left the mansion.  She most likely moved into Lane Cottage on the property, where her son Rufus was living.  The main house became home to wealthy attorney Richard Milford Blatchford.

Born in 1798, Blatchford married Julia Ann Mumford in 1857.  The couple had five children.  An influential attorney, successful businessman, and close associate of William H. Seward, he was intimate friends with important figures like Daniel Webster and former mayor Philip Hone.

Richard Milford Blatchford, A Genealogical Record of the Family of Rev. Samuel Blatchford D. D., 1912 (copyright expired)

On October 9, 1844, Philip Hone wrote in his diary, "I went yesterday to dine at Mr. Blatchford's, at Hell Gate.  The party consisted of old Mr. J. J. Astor and his train bearer and prime minster, Mr. Coggeswell; Mr. Dandon, Ole Ball, the celebrated Norwegian violinist (we used to call it fiddler), and myself."  Hone stayed overnight.  He continued:

When I arose this morning I contemplated the enchanting scene: the clumps of fine old trees, clothed in the gorgeous foliage of autumn; the lawn, still bright and green; the rapid waters of Hell Gate, covered with sailing vessels and steamboats--all combined to present a picture of consummate beauty.  In this place, so rich in the beauties of art and nature, in the enjoyment of pecuniary independence, and happy in his family relations, did the former proprietor (Mr. Prime) commit suicide.

The Blatchfords' townhouse was at 6 East 14th Street in the fashionable Fifth Avenue neighborhood.  There on December 23, 1857 Julia Ann Blatchford died.  Three years later, on November 8, 1860, Richard M. Blatchford married Angelica Hamilton.  Sadly, she died two days after their eighth anniversary, on November 10, 1868.  

It was about this time that Blatchford sold the Hell Gate mansion and the block surrounding it to the Sisters of Notre Dame and purchased a summer estate in Newport. 

He would marry one more time.  On January 18, 1870 he married Katharine Hone, the daughter of his good friend.  It was at the Newport estate that he died on September 4, 1875.

At the time of his death, the district known as Hell Gate was fully developed.  The Sisters of Notre Dame used the former Prime block--once admired for its blooming gardens and fruit trees--as the site of St. Joseph's Orphan Asylum.  On August 17, 1887, the New York Dispatch noted that the orphanage, "supports, educates and employs orphans and homeless and neglected children, especially of German birth, until the age of sixteen, when they are set to work to take care of themselves."

The Sisters of Notre Dame placed an angel statue in the yard, and fire stairs on either side of the house.   from the collection of the Frank Cousins Collection of the NYC Public Design Commission.

In 1909, the Historical Guide to the City of New York mentioned that despite the mansion's current use, "some of its old fireplaces and mantels are preserved and from its upper balcony is obtained a fine view of Hell Gate."  The Edison Monthly recalled the building's origins in an article titled "Yorkville Days" in June 1916.  "The country house, which looks across Hell Gate, is a model for suburban homesteads, with broad verandas at front, sides, and rear sheltering its rooms from sun and wind."

But the end of the line for the venerable Prime mansion was on the near horizon at the time of the article.  On July 21, 1918, The New York Times reported, "One of the most important developments in the upper Yorkville district that has been undertaken for many years is now in progress on the entire block bounded by First Avenue, Avenue A, Eighty-ninth Street, and Ninetieth Street."  The article explained that the Sisters of Notre Dame realized their work could be "more economically and satisfactorily carried on outside of the city limits."  It also pointed out the massive increase in value the block had seen in the 50 years since the property was purchased.

The Prime mansion, seen here heavily altered around 1900, was among the last surviving summer homes in the neighborhood.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York 

The buildings on the block were razed and replaced with modern structures.

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The Lost "Hermitage" 43rd Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues

 

from The Manual of the Corporation of the City of New-York, 1853 (copyright expired)

John George Leake came to America with his parents, Ann and Robert Leake, from his native Scotland around 1767.  (Ann was John's step-mother.  His mother, Margaretta, had died on May 12, 1754.)  After studying law in the office of James Duane, he became a eminent lawyer.  

Leake's fortunes were greatly increased upon the death of Ann Leake, now widowed, in 1784.  Other than a few bequests, she left John "and his heirs," her entire estate, including:

...the messuages, lands, tenements, and heriditaments, situate[d], lying, and being with the city and county of New-York, and in the counties of Bergen and Essex, in the late Province, now State of New Jersey.

Like all wealthy New Yorkers, John established a summer estate north of the city.  He purchased his, The Hermitage, from Matthew Hopper around 1780.

The estate engulfed about 80 acres, stretching from the Hudson River to the Bloomingdale Road (later Broadway).  The northernmost point of its diagonal northern boundary was around 48th Street and its southern point at 39th Street.  The  Georgian style mansion house featured a two-story veranda with a classical pediment and fanlight.

Leake kept his financial affairs to himself.  In 1851 the Documents of the Assembly of the State of New-York mentioned that he was "remarkably close and reserved upon the subject of his immense property, his relatives, and heirs.  With the aid of a broker and collector of rents, he managed his large estates himself."

As he got older, the life-long bachelor seems to have given up his town house and lived permanently at The Hermitage.  The estate was appropriately named.  John G. Leake became increasingly solitary, the Documents of the Assembly of the State of New-York saying, "He never visited, and was seldom visited, except upon matters of business.  His circle of acquaintances was very limited, and with the exception of Philip Brasher, John Leake Norton, and John Watts, he had few or no associates.  In his latter years he was almost forgotten."

Just inside the entrance to the house was an iron chest, the key to which Leake kept on his person.  It in were his "most valuable family papers, jewelry and money for family expenses."   The 1851 Documents said "He was in the daily habit of opening it and examining the papers it contained, and neatly folded them up again; arranging and methodically replacing them back again in to his chest."

Around May 20, 1827, Leake performed his nightly chest inspection, but this time, according to his "servant man," Casey, he removed several papers and burned them in his bedroom fireplace.  It would be the last time Leake opened his precious chest.  He was becoming ill and never again left his bedroom.

Leake's self-imposed reclusion lasted until his last breath.  The Documents said, "In his last moments, it is said he was permitted to die neglected and alone.  To a man of wealth and far from his kindred, there was a melancholy tragical fitness in the closing scene of his life."  Only his servant, Casey, was with him.  "During his whole sickness no one sat up with him during the night, and no physician attended to administer relief and alleviate his pain."  He died at the age of 75 on the evening of June 2, 1827, leaving an estate valued at about $16 million in today's money.  He was buried in Trinity Churchyard

The Leake chest was taken downtown to the Franklin Bank and opened in the presence of a public administrator, a judge, and the executors.  It was then discovered that the document Leake had burned was his will.  In its place was a new, unsigned  version, "which cut off John Leake Norton, the god-son, and the relatives of the deceased."

Instead, Leake left the bulk of his fortune to, Robert Watts, the the son of his best friend, with the stipulation that the young man would change his surname to Leake.  Watts did so, but died intestate only a few months later.  The Leake inheritance now passed to Robert's father, John Watts, as next of kin.  That money was used to found the Leake & Watts Orphan Asylum.  

Leake left Hermitage Farm to a niece, Martha Norton.  She was married to Samuel Norton and had three sons, John Leake Norton (the disinherited godson), Robert Burridge Norton and Samuel John Leake Norton.  When Martha died in 1797, The Hermitage was passed in equal shares to her sons.

In 1871 the Leake estate was fully plotted out with building lots.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Samuel J. L. Norton had inherited the portion of the "farm" that held the mansion, and it appears he and his family lived there until his death in 1805.  The city was still significantly to the south, as reflected in the advertisement his brother placed in The Evening Post two years later:

To Lease, the Mansion House called the Hermitage, situated at the extremity of the Greenwich road, with about 11 acres of land, abounding with [a] great variety in the choicest fruits, flowers and ornamental shrubbery--Enquire of John L. Norton, 78 Broad-street.

In 1825 John L. Norton began selling off portions of The Hermitage.  He testified in 1838 that he "also at the same time improved the streets and avenues running through the said estate, comprising about twenty acres of land, and conveyed them to the Corporation, for which he received no consideration."

John Leake Norton as he appeared in 1797.  from the collection of the National Gallery of Art

On June 19, 1849 John L. Norton sold at public action the portion of "the farm called the Hermitage," from Eleventh Avenue to the Hudson River, and from 48th Street to the estate's southern border.  John and Robert had now essentially sold off John George Leake's once sprawling estate.  

It is unclear exactly when the Leake mansion was demolished.  On June 30, 1888, a journalist of The Evening Post remarked on the site of the recent Metropolitan Opera House at 39th Street and Broadway, saying, 

It was a part of the Hermitage Farm, and this was reached on either side by [Fitz-]Roy Road and Verdant Lane, while a pretty little brook purled under the calm in the vicinity of Forty-second Street.  It seems only yesterday that we boys used to get apples at the Hermitage Farm and fish for minnows in the brook.

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The Lost Columbia College - Murray Street and Broadway

 

from the collection of the New York Public Library

King's College was chartered in 1754 with the Archbishop of Canterbury among its governors.  The first president, Dr. Samuel Johnson conducted the first class of eight men in the vestry room of Trinity Church.

Trinity Church was highly involved in the institution and in 1754 presented the trustees part of a large tract of land granted it by Queen Anne.  The King's College portion included the land between Murray and Barclay Streets, and from Broadway to the North (i.e., Hudson) River.   On July 13, 1756 the cornerstone was laid for an impressive edifice on the portion bounded by New Church Street (the "New" was later dropped) and Broadway, and Murray and Robinson Street (later Park Place).  Historian Preserved Smith described the location as "in the suburbs of the capital."

Years later an article in the June 1918 edition of Gas Logic recalled, "At the time of the laying of the corner-stone a dinner was given at the famous tavern, then new, the Province Arms.  The Lieutenant-Governor and the governors of the college and the students were assembled there and proceeded to the college grounds.  After the ceremony of laying the stone they all returned to the tavern, where an elegant dinner was served."

Construction was completed in 1760.  The Georgian style structure faced Murray Street and was 180 feet wide and 30 feet deep.  Michael E. Newton, in his Alexander Hamilton, The Formative Years, notes:

It housed a large hall on the ground floor where students ate meals, heard lectures, and attended religious services.  Immediately above that was an equally large library that housed some fifteen-hundred volumes, mostly legal and theological books, along with various historical and biological "curiosities."

The upper floors held study areas and sleeping rooms.  In 1763 the new president, Dr. Myles Cooper wrote:

The College is situated on a dry, gravelly soil, about one hundred and fifty yards from the bank of the Hudson River, which it overlooks; commanding, from the eminence on which it stands, a most extensive and beautiful prospect of the opposite shore and country of New-Jersey, the City and Island of New-York, Long Island, Staten Island, New-York Bay with its islands, the Narrows forming the mouth of the harbor, etc.  And being totally unencumbered by any adjacent buildings, and admitting the purest circulation of air from the river, and every other quarter, has the benefit of as agreeable and healthy a situation as can possibly be conceived.

The 1776 map of Major Holland, Surveyor General, shows the location of the college (upper left).  Historical Guide to the City of New York, 1906 (copyright expired)

When the colony was rocked by revolution, the president of the school fled to England and the students were evacuated from the building.  The 1894 General Catalogue of Columbia College recalled, "In April, 1776, at the request of the Committee of Safety, the College was prepared for the reception of the Continental troops; the students were dispersed; and the Library and apparatus were removed to the City Hall.  During this interval the exercises of the College were suspended."  The building was used as a hospital and barracks.

The school sat on the northern hem of the city.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

In 1784 the school reopened, but under a new name.  King's College was now Columbia College.  The first graduate of the newly-christened institution was future Mayor and Governor DeWitt Clinton. 

Graduation ceremonies were important events.  The Gazette of the United-States noted that present at the graduation on May 8, 1789 were "The President--His Excellency the Vice-President--the Senate, and House of Representatives of the United States--The Governor and principal Officers of this Republic."  The article touched on the importance of the institution within the fledgling country:

The late public commencement...is an happy presage to the future character and prosperity of this country, that its youth, when in pursuit of literary attainments, do not confine their attention to the dull paths of mere scholastick [sic] study, but acquire some general and useful ideas respecting commerce, police and ethics.  Under such regulations, may we not hope to be successfully furnished with patriots and legislators, who will come forth into public life, endowed with such knowledge...as will render them both the ornament and safeguard of our rifing republic?

By 1817 the building was not only in need of repair, but its growing enrollment had made it inadequate.  The New York Herald later recalled, "In 1817, steps were taken for the repair of the old edifice, which was in a very dilapidated condition, and for the erection of additional buildings.  In 1820 the proposed alterations and additions were completed."

The 1820 renovations included additions at both ends.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

As the school's centennial approached, on July 22, 1853 The New York Times remarked, "Endowed largely by a munificent grant, (part of the endowment of Trinity Church), she is not strictly a Church College; though her President must always be a churchman, and although the majority of her Trustees, and her Faculty, have generally been Episcopalians, yet in every Board of Trustees, Presbyterian, Dutch Reformed and Baptist denominations have been represented, and at one time, even the Jews."  By now the school had more than 125 students and its library contained 16,000 volumes.

At the time of the article, the once bucolic area around Columbia College was increasingly being hemmed in by business buildings.  On January 30, 1857 The New York Times reported on the sale of the Columbia property, calling it "the largest sale of fine City property that has taken place for some time."

The trustees had purchased the former Deaf and Dumb Institution on 50th Street near Fourth (later Park) Avenue.  On April 1, 1857 The New York Times remarked, "There is a lively time now in the College building, preparatory to a change of quarters."  The article noted, "By the terms of the late sale of their property, the College may hold possession until the 10th of May, but they are anxious to get away as soon as the alterations now going on in the up-town edifice are completed."

from the collection of the New York Public Library

On May 15 the New-York Daily Tribune remarked, "Now the College buildings, from whose classic walls many of our brightest intellects have gone forth into the world and signalized themselves in the various professions and pursuits of life, have been doomed."  The venerable structure was demolished by the end of August and replaced by modern loft buildings.

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The Lost William Bayard House - 82 Jane Street

By the time this etching was made row houses had crowed in around the former country home, and the hip roof was updated to a peaked roof.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The Bayard family had deep roots in America.  The first arrival was Ann Stuyvesant Bayard, sister of Director-General Peter Stuyvesant.  She landed in New Amsterdam in 1647, approximately the same year her husband, Samuel Bayard, died.

Nicholas Bayard owned thousands of acres of land outside of Manhattan by the end of the 17th century.  He established an estate near what would become Greenwich Village around 1691 and erected a fine home there.  The farm was acquired by William Bayard sometime before 1770.

William Bayard, who was born in 1729, was married to Catharine McEvers.  The couple had three children, Samuel Vetch, William Jr., and Mary.  The family used the three-acre farm overlooking the Hudson River as their "country seat."  Most wealthy New Yorkers maintained summer estates, sometimes called farms, where they could escape the stifling heat and smells of the city. 

The Bayard farm abutted the Ludlow estate.  Jane Street, a country lane running essentially east-west which lead to the Jayne Farm, separated the two properties—Bayard’s being to the north and Ludlow’s on the south.

The clapboard house Nicholas Bayard had constructed was fronted--as were nearly all country homes--by a long porch, or veranda, where cooling breezes could be enjoyed.  A hipped roof, typical of Dutch design, provided an ample attic level.

from Historic Homes and Institutions and Genealogical and Family History of New York, 1907 (copyright expired)

The sumptuous nature of Bayard’s home was hinted at when newspapers reported on a lightning strike to the residence on June 10, 1775:  

Last Sunday week the House of William Bayard, Esq., at Greenwick [sic], was struck by Lightning, which occasioned considerable damage.  In several apartments large Pier glasses were broken, and a quantity of silver plate contained in a chest was pierced and otherwise affected without doing the least injury to the chest.

It may have been at this time that the house was given a sensitive Georgian makeover.  The Dutch roof was replaced with a peaked version, with a classic gable and dormers.  Otherwise it kept its original appearance, including the welcoming veranda.

Bayard had been elected to the 1765 Stamp Act Congress and he served on the committee that drafted a protect to Parliament against taxation without representation.  But  his passion for colonists' rights did not extend so far as rebellion.  When the American Revolution broke out he remained a Loyalist--to the point that in 1776 he aided the British soldiers who occupied New York.

Whether history brands one a hero or a scoundrel depends on which side wins the war.  In Bayard's case it did not go well.  On March 6, 1777 the Provincial Congress appointed Commissioners to "take into their custody & possession all the personal property" of loyalists with ten days' notice.  The families were allowed to keep their clothing, a few pieces of furniture and three months' provisions.  Everything else was sold at public auction.  

The Bayard farm was confiscated and sold to Dr. Charles McKnight.   And then, according to historian William Smith Pelletreau in his cumbersomely titled 1907 book Historic Homes and Institutions and Genealogical and Family History of New York, "It was probably purchased from him by William Bayard, Jr., and it was his country seat."

William had remained in New York during the Revolution when the rest of his family had fled.  Educated as an attorney, he co-founded the mercantile firm of LeRoy, Bayard & McEvers.  In 1783 he had married Elizabeth Cornell and the couple had seven children.

That the Loyalist stain on the Bayard name had been erased was evident in William's close personal relationship with Alexander Hamilton--one of the country's founding fathers and a member of Washington's first Cabinet.

At dawn on July 11, 1804 Hamilton and Vice President Aaron Burr faced off in a duel with pistols on the bank of the Hudson River in Weehawken, New Jersey.  On the dock on the Manhattan side William Bayard, Jr. waited for news and to provide any necessary aid.  Eventually, he saw a boat approaching from the other side.  In it was the paralyzed Hamilton, shot in the spine.

Hamilton was brought to the Bayard house.  Family and friends streamed in over the next 31 hours, during which Hamilton reportedly suffered greatly.  He died in the Bayard house at 2:00 on the afternoon of July 12.

The Burr-Hamilton duel as depicted by J. Mund. from Beacon Lights of History, 1902 (copyright expired)

Catharine Bayard died in 1814, followed by William Bayard, Jr. in 1826.  In 1833, according to William Smith Pelletreau, "the heirs of William Bayard, Jr. sold the house and land to Francis B. Cutting for about $50,000."  (That amount would be just over $1.5 million today.)  

Two years later Cutting divided the estate into 125 lots which were then sold at auction.   The venerable Bayard house survived for only a few more years, its approximate site occupied by the house at 82 Jane Street today.  (Interestingly, it is directly opposite the house at 83 Jane Street erected by William Bayard, Jr.'s son, Robert, in 1853.  The house is repeatedly, and incorrectly, touted as the spot where Alexander Hamilton died.)

photo via brodsky.com

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The Lost Nicholas Jones House - West End Avenue and 106th Street

 

from "The New York of Yesterday - A Descriptive Narrative of Old Bloomingdale" 1908 (copyright expired)

The Humphrey Jones estate engulfed 109 acres near the village of Bloomingdale.  The mansion stood approximately at what would be Broadway and 101st Street.  About six blocks north of "the homestead" was sprawling estate of the Nicholas Jones family, between 106th and 107th Streets and West End Avenue today.  It was accessed by Cherry Lane, which branched off the Bloomingdale Road (later Broadway) through the two Jones' estates.

Washington Irving described the district, referring to "the pastoral scenes of Bloemen Dael, which in those early days was a sweet and rural valley, beautiful with many a bright wildflower, refreshed by many a pure streamlet and enlivened here and there by a delectable little Dutch cottage sheltered under some sloping hill and almost buried in embowering trees."  

Nicholas Jones had purchased the land, with the stone mansion already standing, from Charles Ward Apthorpe on October 12, 1764.  (Apthorpe's own magnificent new home near today's 90th and 91st Streets and Columbus Avenue, was completed that year.)  The stately Georgian main residence was surrounded by verandas.  A fanlight admitted light into the attic level.  It was surrounded by gardens and outbuildings and had sweeping views of the Hudson River and New Jersey palisades.

Jones was a respected member of the New York community.  He signed his name to a petition to King George III in 1771, for instance, asking to establish The New-York Hospital.  The King granted the request on March 9, 1772 (using the "royal we" and florid 18th century prose), saying in part:

...now we, taking into our royal consideration the beneficial tendency of such an Institution within our said city, calculated for relieving the diseases of the indigent, and preserving the lives of many useful members of the community, are graciously pleased to grant the said humble request of our said loving subjects.

Other powerful and wealthy New Yorkers who had joined Jones in petitioning the king were Robert H. and Philip Livingston, Oliver De Lancey, Richard Morris, John and James Beekman, and Charles Ward Apthorpe among others.

But storm clouds were forming over the British colonies.  Four years later insurrection had turned to war, and it landed squarely upon Nicholas Jones's property.  British troops set up an encampment on the property in 1776, taking over the mansion, felling trees and ransacking the family's storehouses. 

The farm became the epicenter of what would be called the Battle of Harlem Heights on September 16, 1776.  Historian Hopper Striker Mott explained in the 1909 Historical Guide to the City of New York, "It was not until they reached Nicholas Jones' farmhouse about sunrise  that the British pickets, light infantrymen, were encountered...During the brisk skirmish which now took place, the woods along the dividing line between the Jones and Hooglandt farms echoed the sharp firing from both sides." 

Outnumbered, the revolutionary army retreated and the British and Hessian troops remained in the Jones mansion.  In his 1890 book Old New York, W. W. Pasko wrote, "They rifled his wine cellar, stole his [silver] plate, drove away his cows, seized his harpsichord, took off his pier glasses, burned up his fences, cut down his trees and devastated the whole estate generally."  Jane Perry Clark added in her 1931 Studies in History, Economics, and Public Law, "The once beautiful estate of Nicholas Jones of Bloomindale was robbed of seven hundred trees."  

Following the war Jones repeatedly attempted to collect for the damage and losses, but, according to W. W. Pasko, "All these efforts failed, and it is probably he was never gladdened by any recompense."  Interestingly, among the losses Jones claimed was a stolen slave.  On September 15, 1776 he documented:

A slave named Ambris was this Day taken up & put in the Provoost, from Whence he was taken & put to Work on Board the Lady Gage, Capt. Loring, by permit of Commissary Loring, without any Benefit to his Master.

Perhaps frustrated and disgruntled, Jones offered his estate for sale on October 28, 1780.  An advertisement in The Royal Gazette read:

To be sold, a Farm at Bloomingdale, about 200 acres more or less, seven miles from the city; on said farm is a large strong stone built house, pleasantly situated near the North River; conditions for the sale will be made easy to a purchaser.  For particulars apply to Nicholas Jones on the premises, by whom an indisputable title will be given.

 

The estate was not sold, however, and it remained in the family until October 31, 1816 when Nicholas Jones's heirs, William and Ann Roberts, who lived in the former Humphrey Jones mansion to the south, transferred title to their daughter, Sarah, and her husband William Heywood.  The Heywoods named the estate Woodlawn.

The widowed Sarah Heywood sold Woodlawn on April 10, 1847 to William B. Moffat for $20,000 (around $640,000 today).  Moffatt was the editor of Moffat's United States Almanac, and his father, Dr. John Moffat was well-known for his Phoenix Bitters and Moffat's Vegetable Life Pills.

He converted the mansion to the Woodlawn Hotel, which was operated by proprietor William L. Wiley until Moffat's death in 1862.  Hopper Striker Mott wrote in 1908, "After being vacant for some time Courtlandt P. Dixon purchased it for use as a country residence" and later "it was the first home of the New York Infant Asylum."

This photograph was taken in 1890, showing large houses appearing on the property to the left.  Battle of Harlem Heights, 1897 (copyright expired)

The exact date of the demolition of the Jones mansion is unclear, but it stood as late as 1890 as the city encroached on the once bucolic neighborhood. 

The approximate site of the Jones mansion as it appears today.