The Lost Vanderbilt Triple Palace, 5th Ave and 51st Street

William H. Vanderbilt's mansion (left) shared an entrance vestibule with the home of daughter Margaret Fitch.  Emily Vanderbilt Sloane's home was entered on 52nd Street (right) photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the New York Public Library

In 1878 the Vanderbilt family was busy changing the face of Fifth Avenue.  Cornelius Vanderbilt II began construction of his massive brick and limestone palace at the southwest corner of 57^th Street, plans were underway for three mansions for the William Henry Vanderbilt family between 51^st and 52^nd Streets, and the following year William Kissam Vanderbilt’s wife, Alva, would engage Richard Morris Hunt to start work on the “Petite Chateau” on the northwest corner of 52^nd Street.  By the turn of the century this section of Fifth Avenue would be familiarly known as “Vanderbilt Row” or, with a touch of sarcasm, “Vanderbilt Alley.”

William Henry Vanderbilt’s idea was an interesting one.  He would erect three near-matching homes, one for himself and wife Maria Louisa Kissam, and two for his daughters, Margaret and Emily.  (Margaret had married Elliott Fitch and Emily was now Mrs. William Douglass Sloane.)  John Butler Snook is routinely credited with the design of the harmonious mansions, since his name appeared on the plans filed with the Department of Buildings.  He may be getting more credit than is deserved, however.

According to author Wayne Craven in his Gilded Mansions: Grand Architecture and High Society, an executive of Herter Brothers complained to the editors of an architectural journal on April 11, 1886 “It is a matter of record…that Herter Brothers were the architects of [Mr. Vanderbilt’s house]…and are the only persons responsible for the designs, both of the exterior and the interior…We might add that of the two gentlemen named by you, Mr. Atwood was employed by our firm at the time as a draughtsman and Mr. Snook by Mr. Vanderbilt as general superintendent.”

That argument may never be settled; however two years after construction began, the Triple Palace at Nos. 640 and 642 Fifth Avenue, and No. 2 West 52^nd Street, was completed.  Vanderbilt had originally envisioned the grand Italian Renaissance palazzos clad in gleaming white marble.  In the end, the less glamorous brownstone was used instead.  Some historians feel that an aging Vanderbilt changed his mind when he realized that he may not have that many years left to enjoy his house.  Using the easily obtainable brownstone would significantly speed the construction process.

Art and architecture critic Helen W. Henderson had another opinion.  In 1917 she offered that he “stipulated that the material should be white marble, then greatly in vogue; but Vanderbilt owned a quarry of brownstone and the native produce was employed.”

More than 600 construction workers and 60 European sculptors and craftsmen had labored on the triple mansion.  William’s and Margaret’s homes were entered via a common centered courtyard.  Emily’s entrance faced 52^nd Street.  The daughters’ homes, sharing a plot the same size as their father’s, were necessarily about half the size of their parents’ 58-room house.  For occasions of elaborate entertaining, their adjoining mansions were constructed so the drawing rooms could be opened into a single, enormous ballroom.

William K. Vanderbilt's "Petite Chateau" can be seen across 52nd Street to the north (right).  photo by Byron Co. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWQ4RZN1&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

Unlike William Kissam’s and Cornelius’s chateaus with their towers and turrets and ornamented gables; the houses of the Triple Palace were restrained and dignified in comparison--which is not to say they did not abound with ostentatious decoration.

As the mansions neared completion in 1881 Vanderbilt addressed a potential problem.  He would have no stumbling of dainty feet on the paving stones as high-class visitors moved from their carriages to the entrance.  On August 6 The New York Times reported that “What is claimed to be the largest pavement stone ever quarried in the United States, is now resting upon blocks in front of the main entrance of William H. Vanderbilt’s new house.”  The 25 foot, 2 inch long stone was 15 feet wide and 8 inches thick.  It weighed over 22 tons.  With no seams between his paving stones, Vanderbilt did not have to worry about embarrassing and dangerous tripping.

Tucked away on the 51st Street side was Wm. Henry's glass and metal conservatory.  photo from the collection of the New York Public Library

The families moved into the homes in January 1881; although they would not be totally finished until 1883.  Work on furnishing the mansions and completing the ornamental details would go on around the Vanderbilts’ home life.  By March 1882 Henry and Louisa felt the mansion was guest-worthy and a housewarming party was held.  Two thousand invitations were sent out by liveried messengers.

The guests that night entered through the covered double vestibule with its mosaic-encrusted walls and stained glass ceiling.  They turned left into William’s doorway and entered interiors intended to astound.  Carved woodwork was inlaid with mother-of-pearl ornamentation; the painted ceiling of the 45-foot long dining room was done in Paris by E. V. Luminais; and the Japanese Room was designed by John La Farge.  Herter Brothers, the preeminent furniture and decorating firm of the day, was responsible for the interior design throughout, including the custom furniture and built-in cabinetry.

photo American Architect & Building News, July 5, 1886 (copyright expired)

In December 1883 the art gallery was ready for showing off.  Vanderbilt sent out 3,000 invitations to “an art reception” and on December 21 The Times reported that “More than 2,500 gentlemen promenaded the parlors of William H. Vanderbilt’s house.”  Considering the large number of visitors and the high value of the bric-a-brac in the mansion, Vanderbilt had a crew of 11 detectives roaming the crowd.  It was a good move on the millionaire’s part.

“They recognized one man in the crowd whom they knew came without invitation, and he was shown to the door.  Early in the evening a few ladies made an attempt to join the company.  They were politely ushered out," reported The Times.

An orchestra played while the guests rifled through the Vanderbilt treasures, and in the dining room Delmonico “served up a collation.”  The Times was a bit astonished at the presumptuous free-wheeling of some art students.  “They took down the books from the shelves of the elegant library, poked the blazing logs on the andirons in the private parlors and wandered at will into the richly furnished bed-chambers.  They handled rare and costly specimens of china and bric-a-brac with reckless audacity, looked inquisitively over the photographs and visiting cards, and commented on the collection of family relics in the sealed glass case.”

Vanderbilt had a printed catalog “bound in old gold” prepared for the event and he personally pointed out to guests whom he personally knew the “gems of art in his picture gallery.”  

Vanderbilt's massive fortune of $200 million would amount to about $5 billion today photo from the collection of the New York Public Library

At the time of the entertainment, Vanderbilt’s health had already begun to fail and was under the care of a physician.  “He had no definite conception of what trouble he was suffering from, though his greatest annoyance came from indigestion,” said The New York Times later.  On December 8, 1885 Vanderbilt rose as usual, at 7:00.  He went about his usual business, including a visit to the studio of sculptor J. Q. A. Ward to sit for a bronze bust.  The day continued as normal with Vanderbilt in the best of spirits and seemingly the best of health.

At 2:20 that afternoon he said in his private study chatting with Robert Garrett, President of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Company.  “Mr. Vanderbilt was speaking, when suddenly Mr. Garrett perceived indistinctness in his speech.  The next instant the muscles around his mouth began to twitch slightly.  Then they were violently convulsed.  I another moment the great millionaire’s arms bent under his body, he toppled forward, and pitched headlong toward the floor,” related The Times the following day.

“In a moment bells were ringing and feet were flying in every part of the house.  The butler, the footman, and the other servants were hastening breathless from the basement.  Mrs. Vanderbilt and George W. Vanderbilt, her youngest son, were hurrying, pale with terror, from above.  In a minute all were in the study, where Mr. Garrett was bending over his host’s body.  The ruddy firelight did not light up the pallid features now.  The ghastliness of death was upon them.”

Within five minutes of the massive stroke, William Henry Vanderbilt lay dead on his study floor.

Cornelius and Frederick sat overnight in Vanderbilt’s bedroom where the “body of William H. Vanderbilt, the richest man in the world…rested all Tuesday night in an ice box in his bedroom, which is the second story front room of the Fifth avenue mansion.”  Earlier that day undertaker W. H. Billier fastened rosettes of crepe bearing black silk streamers to the electric bells of the Fifth Avenue and 51^st Street entrances.  “The white curtains of all the windows were pulled down, forming a striking contrast to the rain-soaked brownstone walls,” commented The Sun the following morning.

Among the few admitted to the death chamber other than family members was John Quincy Adams Ward.  The sculptor took a cast of Vanderbilt’s face.  “He said it was a very successful one, and that with its aid, and with photographs he would be able to complete the bust without difficulty,” said the newspaper.

As with all up-to-date mansions of the 1880s, there was an Asian-themed room.  In the Vanderbilt house a reeded ceiling and upper walls, Japanese fans and Oriental bric-a-brac created the ambiance.  photo from the collection of the Library of Congress.

On the morning of December 10, while the pall bearers and close friends of Vanderbilt gathered in the parlors, the family assembled in millionaire’s bedroom for a last look and a brief prayer.  Afterward Louisa was assisted to her own suite, too overcome with grief to attend the funeral service at St. Bartholomew’s Church.  The streets had been cleared of traffic and after the coffin was closed and placed in the hearse, “the carriages began to fall in line before the door.”

The order of the 15 carriages that pulled away from the Vanderbilt mansions was directed by social protocol.  “In the carriage first following the hearse were Cornelius Vanderbilt and wife, with George Vanderbilt.  In the second carriage rode William K. Vanderbilt and wife.  The third vehicle contained J. S. Webb and wife, the fourth Mr. and Mrs W. D. Sloane, and the fifth Mr. and Mrs. Twombly.”  And so on.  A detachment of 180 policemen kept the crowds around the church at bay.

Vanderbilt’s will was read two days later.  He had earlier told his family “The care of $200,000,000 is too great a load for any brain or back to bear.  It is enough to kill a man.  I have no son whom I am willing to afflict with the terrible burden…So when I lay down this heavy responsibility, I want my sons to divide it, and share the worry which it will cost to keep it.”  And indeed the will divided Vanderbilt’s massive estate nearly equally among his children.

As for Louisa, she got a life interest in the Fifth Avenue mansion and an annuity of $200,000 and $500,000 “for disposal by will.”  She remained in the house and “At her death the residence and works of art are to go to George W. Vanderbilt, and at his death to his eldest son, or, should he not have a son, to William H.; or Cornelius, sons of Cornelius, according to their survival.”  Vanderbilt was determined that his mansion and its artworks should remain a Vanderbilt house, “it being the purpose of the testator to convey them to a male descendant of the name of Vanderbilt.”  As for the other two mansions, “His daughters are given the houses in which they live,” said The New York Times on December 13.

In 1894 Munsey's Magazine published a charming illustration of the Vanderbilt homes -- copyright expired.

De facto Manhattan royalty, Margaret and Emily entertained lavishly in their abutting mansions.  On March 19, 1892 The Times commented on a dinner party hosted by Emily.  “One of the most elaborate of the Lenten dinners yet given took place last evening in the oaken dining room of Mrs. Eliott F. Shepard, 2 West Fifty-second Street…In the centre of one [table] was a mound of Madame Cuicine roses, and the embroider of the cloth and the tints of the china and the table settings were pink to match the color of the flowers.  A second table was all in yellow, the flowers being daffodils relieved with some lilies of the valley.  The third table was decorated in deep red, and the flowers used were the rich red meteor roses.  The flowers were from Hodgsons’s conservatories.”

As the marriage of William and Alva’s daughter Consuelo to the Duke of Marlborough in November 1895 neared, the Vanderbilt mansions were thrown open to society.  On November 6 The Times said “Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt’s residence at 640 Fifth Avenue was opened yesterday afternoon, as were also the houses of Mr. and Mrs. William Douglass Sloane and Mrs. Elliott F. Shepard in the adjoining building.”

The newspaper noted “Mrs. William H. Vanderbilt, the grandmother of the future Duchess of Marlborough, has always made a great pet of Miss Consuelo Vanderbilt, who has also been a favorite with her uncles, aunts, and cousins.  All her relatives desire to make her wedding day as bright as possible.”

It would be among the last great events that Louisa Vanderbilt would see.  Exactly a year later, on November 9, 1896, the Vanderbilt mansion was hung with black crepe.  “The residence of Mrs. Vanderbilt, at the corner of Fifty-first Street and Fifth Avenue, where the body lay, was besieged all day yesterday by friends and acquaintances of Mrs. Vanderbilt, but her sons denied themselves to all except close friends,” said The Times that day.

As intended by his father, George W. Vanderbilt took over the massive mansion.  In the meantime, Margaret shut the doors of No. 642 Fifth Avenue for a long mourning period.  It was not until Valentine’s Day 1898 that she began entertaining again.  It was a cotillion for the Sloane’s second daughter, Lila.  “Mrs. Sloane has only just come out of mourning for the death of her mother, Mrs. William H. Vanderbilt,” remarked The New York Times, “and her function of last night was the first to which she has bidden society for a long time.  It was a dinner dance, and the most notable affair of the kind this season.”

Eighty “well-known and fashionable people” filed into the mosaic-paved inner court.  To ensure that they did not mistakenly turn to George’s mansion, Margaret stationed “a retinue of liveried servants…in the Sloane side of this court.”  The Times said they “formed a human path through whose rows of dark plush breeches the prospective revelers might find their way.”  Emily’s and Margaret’s drawing rooms were thrown open “and a better ballroom was thus secured than the Sloane picture gallery would have made,” said the newspaper.

In 1905 George negotiated a 10-year lease on No. 640 with Henry Frick.  According to The New York Times later, Frick “spent thousands of dollars in alterations, eliminating the garden in front and adding a massive entrance.”  The steel man paid $100,000 in rent, “making this Vanderbilt house the most costly private residence under lease in the city,” said The Times.  Frick could afford the rent.  In 1910 he hung Frans Hals’s “Portrait of a Woman” on the wall here.  He paid art dealers Knodler & Co. more than $140,000 for it—about $3.3 million by today’s standards. 

Among Frick's "improvements" was the closing of the open courtyard.  By 1923 when this photograph was taken, soaring business buildings were closing in.  photo by Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWQ4RZN1&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

By now the grand mansions of this section of Fifth Avenue were being converted for business or simply being razed.  When Henry Frick moved into his new white marble mansion further up the avenue, Cornelius III took over No. 640.  By 1927, when his father’s massive chateau at 57^th Street was demolished, there were no Vanderbilt mansions left on Fifth Avenue other than 640.

But Cornelius III and his wife, Grace, stubbornly stayed put.  Cornelius, a brigadier general, was highly interested in military matters while Grace focused on entertaining and charity events.  Eventually surrounded by business buildings, the couple spurned all offers from developers.  And in the meantime, they entertained not only the highest ranks of military and society, but royalty.   

Cornelius "Neily" Vanderbilt was not only a military officer, but an inventor, yachtsman, inventor and engineer.  photo from the Library of Congress

In 1919 the house was crowded with European titles and wealthy socialites as Grace gave a reception with music for the Queen of the Belgians.  In 1927 it was Prince William of Sweden who was the guest of honor at a reception on January 9.  And in 1927 1,000 guests and a “fleet of officers” were entertained in honor of Rear Admiral Charles F. Hughes.

Cornelius Vanderbilt III died on March 1, 1942.  Although he had sold the Fifth Avenue mansion to William Waldorf Astor estate in 1940, he and Grace remained living there until his death.  Now Grace was forced out.  She moved into the William Starr Miller house at No. 1048 Fifth Avenue. 

On November 22, 1945 The New York Times said the mansion “is fast being demolished by wrecking crews preparing for the erection of a commercial building on the site.”  Three weeks earlier the house had been opened for a public auction of the rooms and interior decorations.  Since then buyers had been removing mirrors, paneled walls, chandeliers, inlaid floors, and mantels.

“Paramount Pictures, Inc., paid $3,500 for the carved panels, mirrors and other fixtures of the ballroom, $975 for those of the dining room and $1,250 for those of the study,” reported the newspaper.  Within days the last of the great Vanderbilt houses on Vanderbilt Row was gone.

photo by the author

The Henry C. Frick Mansion -- No. 1 East 70th Street

photo by Alice Lum

Henry C. Frick had an excellent eye for art and a ghastly lack of diplomacy and charisma.  When just 21 years old-- in 1871--he formed a small business with two cousins that converted coal into coke.  The material was then sold to steel manufacturing plants.

By the time of his wedding a decade later, he had bought out the partnership which now had 1,000 employees and controlled 80 percent of Pennsylvania’s coal.  While Frick and his new bride, Adelaide, honeymooned in New York City in 1881, he became acquainted with Andrew Carnegie.  The meeting resulted in a partnership between H. C. Frick & Company and the Carnegie Steel Company—later to become United States Steel.

But Frick’s name would soon become synonymous in the minds of American workers with greed and cold-hearted disregard for the lower class.  He helped organize the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club in the 1880s, an elite group of millionaires with a private lodge on Lake Conemaugh high above Johnstown, Pennsylvania.  The equally-private lake was the result of the earthen South Fork Dam which was shoddily repaired with little or no concern for safety or stability.

On May 31, 1889, following heavy snowmelt and rain, the dam gave out releasing 20 million tons of water onto the town of Johnstown.  2,209 people were killed.

A year later, workers struck Carnegie Steel’s Homestead Works.  Ardently anti-union, Frick ordered the construction of a solid fence protected by barbed wire.  When striking workers encircled what they termed “Fort Frick,” the tycoon ordered 300 Pinkerton detectives to descent on them with Winchester rifles.  Nine workers were killed in the melee that followed.

As a direct result, Frick was the victim of an assassination attempt on July 23, 1892.  He survived, but his reputation did not.  He is often remembered as the most hated man in America at the time.

By 1905, despite the personal and professional friction between him and Carnegie, Henry Frick was spending more and more time in New York City.  He signed a ten-year lease on the George W. Vanderbilt house on Fifth Avenue and 51^st Street, then “spent thousands of dollars in alterations, eliminating the garden in front and adding a massive entrance,” according to The New York Times later.   The newspaper estimated his rent at $100,000, “making this Vanderbilt house the most costly private residence under lease in the city.”

At the time, Carrere & Hastings’ masterful white marble New York Public Library was rising ten blocks to the south.  The magnificent building would make obsolete the Lenox Library further uptown at 71^st Street.  As Frick’s lease neared its expiration, the fate of the beautiful Lenox Library was evident—the building would be demolished and the land sold.

The magnificent Lenox Library would be razed in 1912 and on its site Henry Frick would raise his equally-magnificent home.  photograph by H. N. Tiemann & Co. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWEFQFQF&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

In 1907 Frick bought the entire block front on Fifth Avenue from 70^th Street to 71^st Street for his permanent New York residence; spending $2 million on the land alone.  But he would have to wait until the library building was gone.  Finally, on May 26, 1912, The New York Times reported, “Henry C. Frick is to build his new Fifth Avenue residence where the old Lenox Library now stands, between Seventieth and Seventy-first Streets, and work on it will be begun in a few weeks.”  Frick had chosen the architects of the new Public Library for his palace.

Although Frick generously offered to pay for the dismantling and reconstruction of the Lenox Library in Central Park, the city ultimately decided against it.  “Housewreckers will begin within the next two or three weeks to tear down the heavy, dignified building given by James Lenox to the city in 1870,” said The New York Times.

Employees at Carrere & Hastings were closed-mouthed about the cost of the proposed Frick house.  “None of the members would even hazard a guess as to what the new house will cost, but it is probably quite safe to say that it will total $3,000,000,” opined the newspaper.  The New York Times also held out no great initial expectations.  “There will be nothing spectacular in its exterior appearance,” it said.

Another Times journalist apparently had more information.  On the same day, a separate article noted, “Plans are being prepared by the architects, Carrere & Hastings, for the new residence, which in all probability will be one of the finest private residences on the avenue.”

Indeed, there were only two larger parcels of private home real estate in the city—those of Andrew Carnegie and Charles M. Schwab.  But Frick's art gallery would be, perhaps, unsurpassed.  The New York Times told its readers, “The picture gallery will be the chief feature.  It will be one of the largest in the city.  Mr. Frick is taking more pride in the arrangement of the gallery than in any other part of his new mansion.  It will contain some of the most valuable and famous paintings in the world, including not only works of enormous intrinsic value, but famous paintings in the art literature of the world.”

Already Frick had assembled a staggering collection including a famous 1644 three-quarter length portrait of Philip IV of Spain by Velazquez.   Frick paid about $400,000 for that painting alone—nearly $9 million today.  At the time of the article, he had just returned from Europe, bringing with him Rembrandt’s The Merchant, and a year earlier had added Romney’s portrait of Lady Milnes, and Gainsborough’s full-length portrait of the Hon. Anne E. Duncombe.

A month later, the estimates of Frick’s city palace had risen to $4 million, and on January 5, 1913, The Times Dispatch of Richmond, Virginia reported on the impending construction and placed the cost a “more than $5 million.”  That figure would be about $83 million in today’s dollars.

Newspapers repeatedly compared the coming mansion with the ex-Senator Clark mansion, at the time the most expensive private home in the city.  Reporters could not resist injecting not-always-subtle insults to that house.  Comparing the plans for the Frick house to the Clark mansion, The Times Dispatch said, “The new Frick residence will not be a gaudy, showy affair.  It will be a long and low structure, simple in details.”

Seen shortly after completion in 1915 from across the avenue, the mansion engulfs the block.  The wing at left is the original art gallery.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWEFQ9LZ&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

Indeed, Carrere & Hastings’ plan was not gaudy—although “showy” could be debated.  “With princely disregard for the value of Fifth avenue real estate, Mr. Frick sets the front of his mansion seventy-five feet back from the avenue,” remarked the El Paso Herald on November 16, 1913.  “Men who are wise in New York real estate matters express the opinion that never again will it be possible to secure a whole block of frontage on Fifth avenue for private residence purposes.  Indeed, the new Frick mansion is likely to be the last on Manhattan Island to cover anything like so spacious an area.”

The newspaper called the house “an architectural masterpiece in the Italian Renaissance style, with interior arrangement and decoration in keeping.”

Readers across the nation followed the construction.   The Times Dispatch reported, “The dining room will be at the southwest corner of the building, behind the drawing rooms, and will look out upon a large fountain and sunken gardens.  A wide corridor will connect the library and the drawing rooms.”

An army of workers swarmed over the construction site as the house rose.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWEFQ9LZ&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

The journalist added, “One of the features of the sunken garden, which will be close to Fifth Avenue, shut off from the curious by the stone garden wall, will be a pool, sixty-feet long and fifteen feet wide.  This will be in the centre of the garden and at its south end will be a large fountain.”

As the mansion neared completion, Frick set off on a European furniture buying trip.  The Evening World reported on April 10, 1914, “In selecting the furniture he will have the advice of Miss Elsie de Wolfe.”  The newspaper added, almost parenthetically, a most extraordinary item.   “News has come to Mr. Frick’s friends that he has under consideration a plan to leave this residence at his death to the city as a museum for the public.”

Manhattan millionaires had a tradition of donating their extensive art collections to museums—most notably the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  But Henry C. Frick envisioned his yet-to-be-completed mansion as a permanent monument to his stellar art collection.  It was an unheard of concept.

Within just the past year or two he had added to the collection with a Velazquez, a Franz Hals, and Whistler masterpieces including the portraits of Rosa Corder and Count Robert de Montesquiou from the Richard A. Canfield collection.  Frick paid $200,000 for the two Whistler portraits alone. 

Later The Sun would say, “For years he planned to build a home in New York, and in his trips abroad ransacked Europe for rare old panellings [sic], bits of carved woodwork and ceilings of great beauty until he had spent a fortune on the interior decorations.”

Over a century before Frick began construction on his mansion, famed French artist Frangonard painted a series of architectural panels for Louis XV’s mistress, Madam du Barry.  The panels, begun in 1772, were purchased by J. P. Morgan in 1902 for $400,000 and installed in his London mansion.  

Upon his death, the Fragonards were purchased by the Duveen Brothers for $1.2 million and shipped to New York City where they were put on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.   Henry Frick admired them so much that he had the architects change course, designing a Louis Seize room to accommodate them.  Frick paid about $1.5 million for the 14 panels.

On March 15, 1915, the New-York Tribune somewhat sadly reported, “The public has had its last look at the Fragonard panels which formed part of the vast art collection of the late J. Pierpont Morgan.

“To-day they will be taken from the Metropolitan Museum of Art to the galleries in the residence of Henry C. Frick, at Fifth Avenue and Seventieth Street…The centre of interest for the huge throng of visitors that flocked to the museum yesterday was the separate room in the walls of which were set the panels that will hereafter delight the eyes of only Mr. Frick and his guests.”

A room in the house was especially designed to accommodate the Fragonard panels.  photograph http://www.frick.org/visit/virtual_tour/fragonard_room

That year the house was finally completed and The North Dakota newspaper, the Bismark Daily Tribune, joined the host of publications nationwide in describing it.  “A palace such as any oriental potentate would envy is the $4,000,000 home which has just been completed by Henry Clay Frick, the coke man of Pittsburg, who is to make his permanent home here.”

That newspaper, too, poked at Senator Clark.  “Unlike the Clark residence, which was built at an expense of between $6,500,000 and $7,000,000, the new Frick home is not a gaudy, showy affair.”

The house would see the comings and goings of celebrated politicians and business titans.  But perhaps none was more publicized than the visit of Marshal Joffre and other French dignitaries in May 1917 during World War I.  Newspapers reported on the thousands of cheering New Yorkers who waved French and American flags as the motorcade inched from City Hall to the Frick mansion.

Once the guests were in the house, The New York Times reported, “During the evening Fifth Avenue and Seventieth and Seventy-first Streets, about the Frick residence, were crowded with the curious, who hung about in the seeming hope of seeing some of Mr. Frick’s distinguished guests.  Through some of the open windows the sounds of the organ could be heard for a block or more.”

The vast lawn--highly valuable Manhattan real estate used for grass--spoke of Frick's endless wealth --photo by Alice Lum

The newspaper said “Inside the house vista after vista of costliness and splendor met the eyes of the hero of the Marne and helped to make him forget his rude days of campaigning against the Germans.  In the centre is a large living hall, opening upon an inner garden in the rear of the mansion.  On either side of this hall are a fine library and drawing room.  To the southward is the dining room from which the French guests looked out upon the great fountain and the sunken garden.  Adjacent is the grand staircase.”

El Greco's "St. Jerome" hangs above the mantel in the warmly-paneled "living hall" in 1927.  Photograph http://www.frick.org/visit/virtual_tour/living_hall

The Times felt that the dignitaries would have much to admire among “Mr. Frick’s treasures which were spread before the eyes of Marshal Joffre and the other French guests of honor.  In his art gallery, through which his distinguished visitors could stroll from the house proper whenever the spirit moved them, are examples of Rembrandt, Reynolds, Romney, El Greco, Valesquez [sic], Turner, Veronese, Holbein, Gainsborough, Lawrence, van Dyck, Goya, Whistler and other artists.”

The newspaper dropped an editorial comment on the value of the paintings.  “For many of these Mr. Frick paid prices that were a nine days’ wonder when they were announced.”

The New York Times opined that the French visitors would find the sunken garden and decorative pool relaxing -- photo by Alice Lum

With the war’s end, 21,000 soldiers arrived in New York City in March 1919 to receptions and massive celebrations.  A Victory Arch, designed by Thomas Hastings, was erected on Fifth Avenue outside the Public Library.  Among the returning soldiers were the wounded and disabled who were unable to participate in the victory parade.  Special accommodations were arranged for their viewing of the parade.  Five hundred seats were provided in front of the Public Library and the New-York Tribune reported on March 24, “Shell shock patients from the Gun Hill Hospital will be seated between Fifty-ninth and Sixtieth streets, on the camouflaged stand on the west side of the avenue.”

Frick opened his vast Fifth Avenue lawn for the injured soldiers.  “Twenty-one hundred severely wounded men from the Grand Central Palace Hospital will occupy automobile trucks parked at each intersection between Forty-fifth and Fifty-first streets.  Those better able to get about will be accommodated in the covered stand erected by Henry C. Frick in front of his residence on Lenox Hill.”

Nine months later the house would be the scene of a much graver event.  At 5:30 on the afternoon of December 3, 1919, Henry Frick’s funeral was held in the music room.  The millionaire capitalist, deemed ruthless and heartless by some, had lived among the art treasures in his splendid Fifth Avenue palace only four years.

The very day of the funeral The Sun reported, “The announcement yesterday that Mr. Frick’s almost unrivalled art treasures were to pass to the city came as a surprise to all save a few of his intimate friends.”  Of course the donation of the mansion and the artwork would not come to pass while Adelaide Frick still lived.

“The gift to the city is subject to the life interest of Mrs. Frick in both the residence and the works of art,” reported The Sun on December 3.  The house and the art collection were appraised in 1923 at $93 million.

The City of New York would wait for its museum for some time.  Adelaide Frick lived on until October 4, 1931 at the age of 71.  During the last two years of her life she was mostly ill during the seven months a year she lived here.  (She spent the summer months at the country estate in Pride’s Crossing, Massachusetts).  When in residence here, she saw only her immediate family and intimate friends.

Adelaide’s nephew, Karl F. Overholt, spoke to a reporter about the house shortly after her death.  “He said that the Frick residence in this city was more of a museum than a home and that even the few rooms she occupied on the second floor contained articles in the Frick art collection.”

Architect John Russell Pope was commissioned to renovate the house into a functional museum.  Among the $1 million alterations would be a new art reference library erected at 10 and 12 East 71^st Street, and a one-story addition to the mansion proper.  The Times noted, “In keeping with the expressed desire of the trustees to maintain the residential character of the house and to avoid giving it the atmosphere of a museum, the alterations to the Frick mansion will be of a minor nature.”

The Reference Library, to the rear, was sympathetically designed to meld with the mansion -- photo by Alice Lum

Necessary were the addition of a reception room and cloak room, an enclosed court, entrance gallery and a lecture hall.   The museum was opened by invitation on December 11, 1935.  Critics remarked favorably at the residential nature that was preserved in Henry Frick’s home; a highly unusual concept for anything other than a house museum.

Henry Frick’s magnificent Fifth Avenue mansion would be in itself a remarkable and important example of residential architecture.  The tycoon’s vision of retaining his collection within its walls created one of New York City’s and the nation’s most unique and important art collections, doubling the importance of the structure.

photo by Alice Lum