The Lost Commercial Cable Building - 20-22 Broad Street

 

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

John William Mackay was brought to America by his parents as an infant.  Destitute, they lived in the impoverished and dangerous Five Points district.  The immigrant boy who initially survived by selling newspapers made a massive fortune mining in the West, emerging as one of the wealthiest men in America.

Mackay organized the Commercial Cable Company with James Gordon Bennett, Jr. in 1884 to lay and operate the trans-Atlantic cable.  It was a direct competitor of Jay Gould's Western Union operation.  When Western Union refused to relay messages initiated by Commercial Cable, Mackay bought the Postal Telegraph Company and began buying up and consolidating other small telegraph companies until by 1886 his firm was an equal to Western Union.

In 1894 Mackay moved both companies into his new Postal Telegraph Building, designed by George Edward Harding & Gooch at 253 Broadway.  It was a temporary arrangement and a year later ground was broken for the Commercial Cable Building, designed by the same architects.  The site, just south of the New York Stock Exchange, extended from Broad Street through to New Street. 

The Commercial Cable Building was designed to impress.  On November 27, 1895, The Electrical Engineer described the rendering as showing "a handsome and imposing twenty-one story structure, above which rise two towers surmounted by domes representing the two hemispheres.  The towers will be connected by a mansard roof more than three hundred feet above the street level."   While the journalist said, "The general style of the building is the Italian Renaissance," the architects liberally lavished it with Beaux Arts decorations.

George Edward Harding & Gooch included the latest in conveniences and technology.  There would be six "fast electric elevators," as well as lavatories and "retiring rooms" on each floor.  The Commercial Cable Company would occupy the entire ground floor "which will be of unusual height," said The Electrical Engineer and "will be furnished entirely in marble."  The building included nineteen stories of rental offices.  The "total investment in land and structure will represent an outlay of at least $2,000,000," said that article--just under $72 million in 2024.

The architects' 1895 rendering depicted fenestration along the southern side--a feature that would cause troubles later.  Record & Guide, June 6, 1896 (copyright expired)

The Commercial Cable Building was completed in 1897 to general acclaim.  On December 24, the New-York Tribune, saying the structure "lifts its head far up into the clouds," called it "an ornament to the street."  The article added, "It is handsome in design, and represents some of the best ideas of modern building."  But while both the exterior and interior were considered beautiful, the building's function for the Commercial Cable Company was paramount.  "The lines of the Commercial Cable Company diverge to all parts of the civilized world, and the best possible service is furnished both at home and abroad," said the article.

The Architectural Record's critic was less enthusiastic, saying the designer "has put a huge brass knob at either end of the top, giving his skyline two competing features in place of one dominant feature."  He decried that the Commercial Cable Building, "reeks of a rowdy picturesqueness like cowboy slang."

The building had barely opened when it was the scene of an unusual suicide.  On September 24, The Sun titled an article, "Cat Suspected of Suicide" and explained that the janitor's "well-known cat named Thomas" had recently been intimate with a female tabby that disappeared.  The article said, "Yesterday morning Thomas was seen about the lower floors of the building.  Shortly before noon one of the elevator men saw the cat go upstairs.  That was the last seen of it alive."  Before long, Thomas "dropped from the roof of the Commercial Cable Building into New street."

American Architect and Building News, December 11, 1897 (copyright expired)

The tenants on the southern side of the building enjoyed sweeping views of New York Harbor.  But that was threatened in January 1902 when the property next door was sold to Blair & Co.  On May 16, the New-York Tribune reported, "Many of the tenants of the Commercial Cable Building are angry, because much of the light and air on the south side of the building is soon to be cut off by the erection of a new home for Blair & Co., bankers."  When the property was purchased, the Commercial Cable Company was promised that a light court would provide light and air.  But now, said the New-York Tribune, "The plans for the building to be put up by Blair & Co. call, however, for a court, but it will be within instead of outside the building."

Blair & Co. erected its building inches from the Commercial Cable Building, greatly reducing the rental values of the offices on that side.  

photo by Irving Underhill, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

John Borowski was hired as a window cleaner in May 1905.  He aspired to be an elevator operator and four months later, when he could make time, began learning.  On March 25, 1906, the New-York Tribune reported, "Yesterday he started to practise [sic] with one of the elevators in the annex.  On the twelfth floor he left the car for some purpose, and when he came back evidently started it before he was well in the car."  The young man was crushed between the floor of the car and the top of the door.

Such accidents in the decades before the invention of elevator safety devices were not uncommon.  Less than two years later, on January 13, 1908, the newspaper reported that 15-year-old Harry De Freis "was killed yesterday afternoon by falling down the elevator shaft."  He had opened the grate and looked down to see where the car was, and lost his balance.

Photographer Irving Underhill captured the Commercial Cable Building from between the cornices of two structures in 1903.  King's Views of New York, 1903 (copyright expired)

Bootleg liquor and liberated flappers of the Roaring '20s visited the Commercial Cable Building in 1921 with nearly disastrous results.  Florence Rogers, a 21-year-old telephone operator, was invited to what she described as "an after-hours party in a brokerage office" on the 16th floor here on August 3.  Milton Roth, a clerk in William H. Kemp & Co., had a key to the offices and arranged the party.  There were three men and three women.

The New-York Tribune reported, "In the office cocktails were served, Miss Rogers said, and there was violin and harmonica music.  But things got ugly.  According to her, "she drank cocktails because she was told that if she did not swallow the liquor it would be forced down her throat."

At about midnight the two young women and one of the men left.  Things then became worse for Florence Rogers.  The men, one of whom had a pistol, attacked her, tearing off her blouse.  When she attempted to get to the telephone, one of the men disconnected it from the wall and Florence was "struck on the face."  Luckily, her screams attracted the attention of late-working employees in the building and as they came down the corridor, the two men fled.  When police arrived, "they found Miss Rogers in such a hysterical state that an ambulance was called."  (Not surprisingly, Milton Roth was fired the next day, however it does not appear he was arrested.)

In its November 1926 issue, The Commercial Telegraphers Journal reported that the Postal Telegraph Company was leaving its Broadway home and moving into the Commercial Cable Building.  "It is now felt that greater operating efficient will result from having both land lines and cable systems terminate under the same roof," said the article.

The following year, the New York Stock Exchange leased three floors in the building, including the coveted first floor--heretofore the bastion of the Commercial Cable Company.  Then, on October 4, 1928, The New York Times reported that negotiations were nearly completed between the Mackay Companies and the New York Stock Exchange for the purchase of 20 Broad Street.  "The Stock Exchange, it is understood, plans to take over the building as an annex to its present quarters at Wall and Broad Streets."  The article added, "There is a possibility, it was said yesterday, that if the Exchange buys a building it will raze it and build an annex especially to meet its needs."

That did not happen, however.  The negotiations fell through and The New York Stock Exchange, instead, continued renting space in the Commercial Cable Building.  In 1941, when the Exchange renewed its lease of five floors, The New York Times commented, "The building is not in use above the fifteenth floor."

What seemed inevitable came to pass in 1954 when The New York Times on August 16 announced that The Hanover Bank had purchased "more than half of the Broadway blockfront from Wall Street to Exchange Place."  The bank planned a 400,000 square feet skyscraper on the site, said the article.  "It is expected to be completed in 1956."

image via streeteasy.com

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The John S. Rogers Mansion - 53 East 79th Street

photograph by the author

Architect and interior designer Ogden Codman, Jr. was well-established by 1901 when he moved into the narrow, 13-foot wide brownstone at 53 East 79^th Street.  Four years earlier he and Edith Wharton had written The Decoration of Houses which became a must-have for American decorators.  Through Wharton he had received commissions to redecorate the Newport cottages of millionaires like Cornelius Vanderbilt II.

Codman’s homosexuality was never openly mentioned in society; however his engagement to Leila Griswold Webb on October 6, 1904 surely raised eyebrows.   The bride-to-be was the widow of railroad magnate H. Walter Webb who had died in 1900, leaving a fortune of about $3 million.  He was the brother of Dr. William Seward Webb, husband of Eliza Osgood Vanderbilt, daughter of William H. Vanderbilt.  Following the marriage Codman left East 79^th Street, moving into the opulent home he had designed for Leila in 1903 at 15 East 51^st Street.

On April 18, 1906 another socially-important wedding took place when attorney John Shillito Rogers married Catherine Cossitt Dodge.   Catherine was the granddaughter of millionaire William Earle Dodge, and John was the eldest son of Henry Pendleton Rogers.  A newspaper mentioned “Mr. Rogers’s family has been associated with New York City for many generations.”  Indeed, the Rogers family traced their American roots to James Rogers who arrived on the Increase in 1635.

More than 300 guests filed into the Brick Presbyterian Church that day, with socially-elite names like Sloane, Vanderbilt, Schieffelin, Beeckman, Pulitzer, De Peyster and Havemeyer.  Among the “handsome wedding presents” listed by The New York Times were a diamond tiara, a silver tea set and tray, a Louis XVI diamond collarette, and a chest of silver flatware.

Both the Dodge and Rogers families had summer homes in fashionable Tuxedo Park.  The newlyweds, too, established themselves there, purchasing “a villa on East Lake Road,” according to The New York Times.  Then in 1916, they turned their attention to their city residence.

The former Codman house and its equally-narrow neighbors at 55 and 57 were purchased and demolished.  In April John and Catherine hired the esteemed architectural firm of Trowbridge & Livingston to design what the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide described as a “modern five story dwelling.”  Three months later, when contractor Marc Eidlitz & Son were awarded the contract, plans had been filed and the cost set at $200,000 (nearly $4.5 million in 2016 dollars).

The Italian Renaissance palazzo was completed in 1917; its restrained and dignified design reflecting the social standing of its owners.  The offset entrance sat squarely at the sidewalk level.  Shallow Doric pilasters separated the first floor openings and the service entrance that led to the basement level was so underplayed as to be nearly unnoticeable.  Renaissance pediments and delicate balustrades distinguished the parlor floor windows.  Above the cornice, a handsome stone balustrade disguised the fifth floor.

The mansion replaced three houses identical to the two-bay wide dwelling see at far left.  photograph by Tebbs Architectural Photo Co., from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The couple would have five children, John, Jr., Frederick Cossitt, B. Pendelton, May, and Catherine Dodge.   While John Rogers handled his legal practice, Catherine devoted much of her time to charitable endeavors of the Episcopalian church. 

Mostly notable was her involvement with the Maternity Centre Committee, established in 1918.  The first meeting was held in the Rogers house, beginning a tradition that would last for years.  The New-York Tribune reported on April 16, 1918 “A baby saving campaign for New York City was started yesterday at a meeting called by the Maternity Centre Committee at the home of Mrs. John S. Rogers…Saving the child by saving the mother is the plan of the committee, which intends to establish nine maternity centres in New York City.”  Hoping to reduce the fatality rate (15,000 women died in childbirth every year in 1918), the centers would focus on prenatal care and education.

The fully-paneled Library contained an eclectic mixture of styles. photograph from the collection of the New York Society Library

Catherine was also a member of the Diocesan Auxiliary to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, involved in the Seaman’s Church Institute, and a leading force in the Young Helpers’ League. 

The Young Helpers’ League was an altruistic effort to teach the children of wealthy families about charity.   On December 13, 1926 The New York Times reported on the “100 or more boys and girls of socially prominent families” who gathered at the Rogers mansion.  Each brought armloads of presents for children of the Lower East Side tenements.

“For a year these children had collected and saved their funds for this benefaction,” said the newspaper.  The young heirs and heiresses squirreled away some of their allowances for the Christmas donation.  “In addition to the heaps of gifts, including the latest mechanical toys of all kinds and dolls, each boy and girl submitted for inspection a ‘mite box,’ containing cash collected throughout the year with which to pay the annual salary of the woman welfare worker in the district.”  The article estimated the total children’s contribution that year would top $1,000.

Although the gathering at the Rogers mansion was termed a “Christmas party,” the children received no gifts.  They sang a few hymns and enjoyed Catherine Rogers’ refreshments.  And they listened to Mrs. Horace Bigelow who explained the spirit of charity.

“But the children of the downtown district are doing more for you than you are doing for them,” she said.  “They are teaching you the habit of giving, and thus aiding you to an understanding of the human and spiritual values of life, upon which your own happiness and success so largely depend.”

Not all the gatherings at 53 East 79^th Street had to do with philanthropic causes, of course.  On February 7, 1929, for instance, John and Catherine Rogers hosted the elite Thursday Evening Club.  Artists from the Metropolitan Opera entertained the wealthy group. 

By now the Rogers children were growing up.  On February 1, 1930 the engagement of John S. Rogers, Jr. to Frances Randall Williams was announced.  The following year, on November 25, May was introduced to society in an opulent dinner dance in the main ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton.  The New York Times remarked “it was essentially a party for young people,” and listed among the several hundred guests Doris Duke, Eleanor Gould, Grace Roosevelt, and Sanford M. Agnew.

Frederick Cossitt Rogers married Camille Barlett on July 5, 1935.   Just three months later, on October 17, John Shillito Rogers died at the age of 59.  Manhattan society may have been somewhat shocked when on December 10, 1936, less than two months after the end of Catherine’s formal period of mourning, she married E. Victor Loew.

Both Caroline and her new husband owned cottages in Tuxedo Park, and Loew lived in a spacious apartment at 778 Park Avenue.  Catherine would not return to East 79^th Street.

The Rogers mansion was purchased by the New York Society Library, then located at 109 University Place, which was in desperate need for a larger facility.  It was established in 1754 and by now included nearly 150,000 volumes in its immense collection of "books, broadsides, pamphlets, maps newspapers and autograph letters,” advised The New York Times on June 20, 1937.

After interior renovations the library was ready for opening on July 1, 1937.  The New York Times said “While the building in East Seventy-ninth Street has been remodeled along modern library lines, the atmosphere that has so long characterized the New York Society Library has been retained.  The exterior of the building gives an impression of great dignity.”

Much of the original architectural detailing has been sensitively preserved.  The Library's "Whitridge Room" is in the former bedroom of John and Catherine Rogers.  photo from the New York Society Library

The New York Society Library remains in the Rogers mansion.  While it is open to the public, only members may remove books from the building.  Among the former members who enjoyed that privilege are Aaron Burr, Alexander Hamilton, and Washington Irving.  Their circulation records and those of other early members are accessible through the Library's digital resource http://cityreaders.nysoclib.org/.

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A Scandal, a Prince and a Reclusive Heiress -- 907 Fifth Avenue

photograph by the author

In the spring of 1915 the mansion of the late James A. Burden, Sr. sat on the corner of 72nd Street and Fifth Avenue.  Senator Nelson W. Aldrich was currently leasing the residence.  Directly behind it, on 72nd Street, was an undeveloped plot owned by Cornelius Vanderbilt.  Seth Barton French had intended to erect his mansion on that site; but then moved into the former William H. Vanderbilt house on Fifth Avenue and 51st Street, following Vanderbilt's death.

The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide pointed out, "The Vanderbilt plot has been used by the Inter-Club Baseball Association during the last winter, and games were played there several times a week, weather permitting."

The baseball organization and Senator Aldrich would soon have to fine other accommodations.  A few years earlier the Burden and French families had formed a syndicate with plans to demolish the mansion and erect a lavish apartment building on the two properties.  Cass Gilbert had prepared plans for the structure.  But backlash from the millionaire neighbors put a halt to the project.

Now new owners had resurrected the idea.  The Guide noted they "will improve the site with a twelve-story apartment house, which will have specially designed suites to met the desires of the prospective tenants.  The entire investment, including the cost of the building, is estimated to be in the neighborhood of $3,000,000."  That figure would be more like $73 million in 2016.

On October 2, 1915 The Record & Guide explained "Apartment houses in the exclusive section of Fifth avenue?  Yes, although prior to the completion of the one at 998 Fifth avenue, the mere thought of such a possibility struck horror to the hearts of the residents of that thoroughfare."

The site was, indeed, squarely amid the palaces of Manhattan's wealthiest citizens.  Directly across 72nd Street were the homes of Oliver Gould Jennings, James Stillman (in the former Henry T. Sloane house), and nearby lived Louis C. Tiffany, Henry A. C. Taylor, W. Bayard Cutting and Nathalie E. Baylies.  One block to the south on Fifth Avenue was the newly-completed home of Henry C. Frick.


Architect J. E. R. Carpenter (who was also an investor) received the commission.  The Record & Guide described him as having "a wide experience in the design of multi-family houses of the better class."  This one, however, would be his crowning achievement.

A 1917 advertisement depicted the completed building.  Real Estate Record & Guide March 31, 1917 (copyright expired)

His 12-story, limestone-faced building was Italian Renaissance in style.  The owners, 907 Fifth Avenue Company, promised "Throughout the structure workmanship and materials will be the finest obtainable."  And that would have to be so--in general there was no more than one apartment per floor.  There would also be duplexes and triplexes available.  "The individual suites will consist of from 14 to 30 rooms, having five to nine bathrooms," noted The Record & Guide.

The journal said "The architect has borne in mind that the tenants of this building will no doubt entertain largely and he has reserved sufficient space for that purpose."  To that end, some of the largest apartments included a ballroom.

Regarding the "servant problem," Carpenter designed "comfortable and cheerful rooms for the servants."  In addition, tenants could lease additional rooms for butlers and valets in another part of the building.

The original tenants were able to dictate the style and decoration of their apartments.  Those signing leases while the building was under construction could choose the wood finishes, wall hangings, lighting fixtures and other elements.  Living at 907 Fifth Avenue would not come cheaply.  The least expensive apartment would cost $10,000 per year; a full floor apartment $30,000 (nearly $61,000 per month today).

On August 5, 1915 the New-York Tribune described certain amenities in Carpenter's plans.  Regarding the central courtyard, it reported "This court will be treated architecturally in the Italian style and will give an air of spaciousness as one enters the building."  As for the apartments themselves, the article noted "The rooms are of unusual size the drawing room being 21x38 feet and the dining rooms 20x26 feet.  The larger apartments have rooms for sixteen servants, while the others have rooms for seven and eight servants."

Moneyed New Yorkers were quick to sign leases.  On December 4, 1915 Herbert L. Pratt, Vice President of the Standard Oil Company, took a 28-room apartment.   In January 1916 a "prominent New Yorker" leased a 23-room, six bath apartment," and in March Charles A. Stone, President of the American International Corporation signed a lease for the largest apartment--30 rooms, including seven baths.  By now other apartments had been taken by Daniel G. Reid, Mrs. Paul Morton, Victor Morawetz and Henry Sanderson.  The building's architect and his family were also residents.

Mrs. Marcus Daly got one of the last leases, signing for her 16-room apartment in December.  Henry F. Sinclair, founder of Sinclair Oil Company, was another of the late renters, as was General Motors executive Billy Durant and his wife, who moved in in 1917.

The completed structure was not only the most exclusive apartment building in Manhattan, it was architecturally one of the finest.  J. E. R. Carpenter was awarded the 1916 Gold Medal from the American Institute of Architecture for the design.  A decade later he would receive a Diploma of Merit from the International Exhibition at Turin for the building.

For several years 907 Fifth Avenue appeared in the newspapers only as millionaire tenants gave dances and dinners, debutante entertainments, and weddings and receptions.  As they closed their Fifth Avenue apartments for the summer, newspapers followed them.  George Rives, Corporate counsel of New York City, and his wife, Sara, summered in their Newport estate; the aging E Matilda Ziegler, widow of baking powder mogul William Ziegler, had a summer residence in Noroton, Connecticut.  Her husband had left a fortune of more than $13 million in 1905.

It was Daniel G. Reid who first brought an unwanted spotlight to the exclusive address.  Reid had managed to monopolize the tin plate industry, earning himself the name "The Tin Plate King."  He had an eye for actresses and by the time he moved into 907 Fifth Avenue, he was on his third wife, former showgirl "and Casino favorite," Mabel Carrier.

Millionaire Daniel G. Reid had an eye for the showgirls.  photo from the collection of the Library of Congress

The Reids maintained an additional apartment in Paris, and a summer estate in Irvington, New York.  The Fifth Avenue apartment was filled with priceless antiques and artwork, and Margaret Reid (as she was now known) enjoyed a lavish lifestyle.  Her husband gave her a $12,000 automobile for Christmas in 1919; and her custom-designed French underwear was valued at $2,000.

It was that underwear that would cause upheaval in the Reid household.  Margaret Reid's dressmaker was Madame Gorgette, an attractive divorcee.  Margaret's personal maid, Amanda Gunnerson, later revealed "Madame Gorgette got into the habit of coming in to the Reid apartments to show Mrs. Reid samples of lingerie, and that she often interested Mr. Reid in these creations."

Daniel G. Reid, it turns out, was very interested in the frilly underthings.

Amanda Gunnerson testified that on one occasion the modiste arrived only to find that Margaret had gone to the theater.  She nevertheless displayed the lingerie to Daniel Reid, who asked if she had brought "any models."  Allegedly, Madame Gorgette replied "No, I prefer to be my own model."

The maid said that then, "Madame Gorgette showed Mr. Reid a transparent petticoat."

As Mabel Carrier, Margaret C. Reid was "the centre of lavish attention," according to The Evening World on March 1, 1919 (copyright expired)

Things got steamier after Margaret Reid left on the morning of December 5, 1918 for a week in Atlantic City.  Her good friend and dressmaker, Madame Gorgette, accompanied her to the train station, then turned around and returned to the Reid apartment.  She did not leave the entire week.

Infuriated, Margaret Reid sued for divorce.  The scandalous affair made headlines long after the divorce was granted on February 26, 1920.  The Evening World said it took the jury less than five minutes to award the divorce to Margaret.  The judge had instructed that "the only question to be answered was whether or not Reid, between Aug. 24, 1910, and June 4, 1919, had been unduly intimate with various women.  This question was answered in the affirmative."

Despite her $200,000 award and $30,000 per year alimony, Margaret wanted more.  On May 8, 1920 she sued for $325,000 worth of "several hundred items of furniture, household articles, wearing apparel and art objects" in the Fifth Avenue and Irvington residences; and $15,000 in furnishings of the Paris apartment, which Reid retained in the court decision.

Margaret's list of items filled 15 pages.  Certain of them were clearly understandable--her furs and gowns, for instance.  Others including oil paintings, Flemish tapestries, and Italian Renaissance period furnishings required discussion.  But neither Margaret nor Daniel Reid would relent on two items: a $30,000 painting of King George I, by Sir Thomas Lawrence; and their pet Pekingese purchased in London.

Reid offered to pay his ex-wife the value of the dog and portrait, as he had done for the silverware, linens, china, and antiques.  But her lawyer said that she "valued that painting personally in such a way that she will not consent to part with it for any consideration.  It is that way, too, with the 'Peke.'" The bitter contest lasted through 1921.

The ugly affair, publicized in newspapers nationally, took a serious toll on the millionaire.  He was repeatedly treated for health problems and traveled to White Sulphur Springs to recuperate.  In August 1924 his doctor, Charles F. Stokes, explained "the dominating feature" of Reid's case "was chronic alcoholism with acute exacerbations brought about by stresses incident to his marital difficulties."

On January 17, 1925, after having been bedridden in his apartment for about a week, Daniel Gray Reid died of pneumonia at the age of 66.  His estate was valued at approximately $50 million.

Another of the wealthy residents of No. 907 during the messy Reid affair was Russian Prince Vladimir Nicolaievitch Engalitcheff.  Known popularly as Val, his family had escaped the Bolsheviks.  On August 31, 1922 The New York Times informed readers that the Prince "has returned from abroad and is now at 907 Fifth Avenue."  On that voyage he and his wife, a Chicago heiress, had made friends with author F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife, Zelda.  

Within six months the 21-year old Prince was dead in his Fifth avenue bedroom.  His obituary gave heart disease as the cause of death.  But, according to Sarah Churchwell in her Careless People: Murder, Mayhem, and the Invention of the Great Gatsby, Fitzgerald noted in his January 1923 ledger "Val Engalitcheff kills himself."

Newspapers, naturally, followed the scandalous divorce, the mysterious royal death, and other attention-grabbing stories; like the the $200,000 suit filed by Mrs. Mabel Gunther in 1922 against residents Carl Vietor and his wife (she charged them with alienating the affections of her two teen-aged children whom, she said, the Vietors conspired to "make German") and the 1926 suicide of the Charles Stone family's governess, Nancy Bamlet, who threw herself from an 11th story window on January 21, 1926.

Before Mrs. Charles J. Liebman moved into her duplex apartment, she had it remodeled in Art Deco style.  photos by Sigurd Fischer from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

So when Anna Eugenia La Chapelle Clark and her daughter moved into No. 907 Fifth Avenue in 1926, it drew little notice.  Like Mabel Carrier, Anna had been a showgirl before she met former Montana Senator  and copper tycoon William C. Clark.  When the much-despised millionaire died in his gargantuan mansion on Fifth Avenue and 77th Street on March 25, 1925, Anna Clark wasted little time in searching for new accommodations.

Anna and her daughter, Huguette Marcelle Clark, moved into a 14-room apartment which included four bedrooms.  According to Meryl Gordon in her The Phantom of Fifth Avenue, "In November 1926 Anna went on a spending spree to decorate the new abode, buying antiques from the London firm Charles, including a $3,500 Queen Anne walnut wing chair with needlepoint and a $4,000 William and Mary sofa covered with seventeenth-century tapestry.  She also spent $13,500 for a Louis XV sofa and five armchairs, and ordered thirty yards of blue chenille carpet for Huguette's suite of rooms.  The soothing color matched Huguette's eyes."

The Clarks' 12th floor apartment --floorplan via Brown Harris Stevens

Hugette was born in 1903, two years after her sister Andree.  Although Clark reported that he and Anna had secretly married prior to the first pregnancy, no documentation was ever found.  Huguette's legitimacy was, therefore, long a matter of speculation.  The $150 million estate left by her father, however, prompted society to ignore the issue.

By the time the Clark women moved in, J. Edwin R Carpenter had become President of the 907 Fifth Avenue Company.  He and his family still lived here, and on October 22, 1921 the wedding of daughter Marion Stires Carpenter to Milton Dorland Doyle took place in the apartment.  Now, the same month that Anna Clark was shopping for furnishings, Carpenter sold the building to William Ziegler, Jr. for $3.25 million.

Huguette, in the meantime, was visible in society.  That same month, on November 22, 1926, she hosted a debutante luncheon at Pierre's for Carolyn Storrs.  (Carolyn was the daughter of Frank Vance Storrs, the founder of Playbill.)  Huguette's own introduction to society happened that same season.

Huguette (left) and her mother, Anna.  photo via finda grave.com

The following year, on December 13, 1927, Anna Clark announced the engagement of Huguette to William Macdonald Gower.  The Times noted "The engagement is of wide interest to society here and in California."  In preparation, Anna leased and decorated an 8th floor apartment for herself, so that the newlyweds could take over the 12th floor suite.

All of New York society anticipated a fashionable Fifth Avenue wedding.  Instead, Huguette and Gower were married quietly in the Clarks' Santa Barbara estate, Bellosguardo, on August 17, 1928.  A local newspaper explained "The wedding will be extremely quiet, with only members of the family present and there will be no attendants."

The wedding, in fact, was nearly an arranged marriage.  Anna Clark agreed to pay William Gower a $1 million dowry.  And the sheltered Huguette had not been prepared for marriage.  Not realizing what sex was about, the wedding night was disastrous.  According to biographer Meryl Gordon, she later told a confidante, "It hurt, I didn't like it." 

Although the couple moved into 907 Fifth Avenue and appeared in public as Mr. and Mrs. William MacDonald Gower, Huguette focused on her painting.  (Seven of her works had been exhibited at The Corcoran Gallery from April 28 to May 19, 1928.)  But domestic life was not good in the 12th floor apartment.

On June 23, 1928 The New York Times mentioned "Mrs. William Andrews Clark and Miss Huguette Clark of 907 Fifth Avenue will leave late next week for Santa Barbara, Cal., where they will remain for the Summer."  No mention was made of Bill Gower and society column readers could not have missed the fact that Huguette was using her maiden name.


She and her husband separated in 1929 and divorced in Reno on August 12, 1930.  She claimed desertion and he said that the marriage had never been consummated.  The New York Times reported "Her mother accompanied her to Reno and they brought half a dozen servants, including a butler and a secretary, with them."

The exclusive apartment building was thrown into panic on July 22, 1931.  Most of the sprawling apartments were closed for the summer as the residents went off to their country estates.  The family of Cornelius F. Kelley, President of the Anaconda Copper Mining Company, had recently left for Butte, Montana.  Their 23-room duplex apartment was filled with "a library of many books, works of art, and valuable furniture," according to The Times.

By the time smoke was discovered seeping out of the apartment that morning, a fire had made substantial headway inside.  Firemen found "the foyer, the huge music room, and the library a mass of charred ruins.  The costly carved oak paneling on the walls was glowing charcoal.  All that remained of a grand piano were the metal strings  The morocco-bound works of famous authors were paper embers."

Although the Kelley apartment suffered $200,000 in damages; no other apartments were affected.  Samuel Herzog, owner of the building, said "the fireproof structure, one of the finest in Fifth Avenue, had stood the test."

Although Anna Clark's name continued to appear in the newspapers as she made generous charitable donations over the decades, both she and her daughter withdrew from society.  There were no entertainments given.  Nevertheless, one staff member, according to Warren Allen Smith's Unforgettable New Canaanites, "thought the two were not 'odd or strange,' but rather 'quiet, loving, giving ladies.  Allegedly distrusting outsiders as well as her family thinking that they were after her money, [Huguette] conversed in French because others would likely not understand."

In October 1950 the owners of the building began a "remodeling operation" which would more than double the number of apartments.  It was a nice way of saying they were dividing the mansion-sized apartments.

Anna Eugenia La Chapelle Clark died in her apartment on October 11, 1963 at the age of 83.  Huguette lived on at No. 907 Fifth Avenue, keeping the 12th floor apartment and the two which made up the 8th floor, including her mother's.  She had, in total, 42 rooms in the building.

By now she had essentially been lost to society's memory, and she withdrew into her personal reality.  Along with her painting, Huguette occupied her time with doll collecting--a collection valued in the millions of dollars by the time of her death.

The last residents and staff of 907 Fifth Avenue would see of Huguette Clark was in 1991 when she was admitted to Beth Israel Medical Center for skin cancer.   Following treatment she decided to live there.  Her Fifth Avenue apartments, her Santa Barbara estate, and her country residence in New Canaan, Connecticut, were staffed and maintained for decades as if she would be returning the following day.  (She bought the Connecticut residence in 1951, but never slept a night there.)

Building staff at 907 Fifth Avenue were instructed to accept packages, flowers and mail as if she were still there.  No information was to be given out regarding her whereabouts or condition.

The name of Huguette Marcelle Clark would be finally thrown into the spotlight following her death, just two weeks before her 105th birthday.  The public was consumed by the story of the eccentric recluse who left an estate of $400 million.

In 2012, even while her estate was being hotly contested, the three apartment were put on the market for a total of $55 million.

Despite the 1951 downsizing of the apartments, 907 Fifth Avenue continues to be one of Manhattan's most exclusive addresses.  And J. E. R. Carpenter's award winning design continues to draw praise.

photographs by the author
many thanks to reader John Chalupa for suggesting this post

The 1857 Fairbanks & Co. Bldg - No. 311 Broadway

The textile and millinery businesses had already taken over the area around Broadway and Duane Streets by 1856.  The small building at No. 311 Broadway housed three milliners—Madame Rogers, Elizabeth Gordon and Elizabeth McLean—as well as George W. Tuttle’s “fancy goods” retail store where mothers could buy “baby jumpers.”  But that year all four would have to find new accommodations.

Brothers John and David Jackson Steward demolished the buildings at Nos. 311 and 313 Broadway and began construction on a high-end commercial building.  Successful merchants themselves, they jumped on the speculative real estate bandwagon which was moving up Broadway.

The name of their architect has been lost.  However the five-story building he designed, completed in 1857, testifies to his marked ability.  The Italian Renaissance façade was clad in white marble.  The molded enframements of the openings went beyond the expected with blind panels and complex projecting cornices.  Mitred quoins rose up either side to the ornate metal Italianate cornice.

The architectural detailing of the openings is superb.

Among the Stewards’ early tenants was Lindeman, Wehry & Co. which operated its store at ground level by the mid-1860s.  Owned by John G. Linneman, Anthony Degreiff and George Wehry, the store stocked bolts of cloth and other dry goods items.

On August 16, 1869 the shop received a delivery of high priced fabric.  Not all of the crates had been carried into the store from the sidewalk when a wagon pulled up at the curb.  Suddenly three men jumped from the wagon, tossed one of the cases into the rear of the vehicle and sped off.

The following day The New York Times reported the incident with florid Victorian prose, saying the thieves “revived for the occasion the deprecating method of the ‘butcher-car dodge,’ but employed an express wagon and a fast horse as more consonant to the particular work in hand.”

The case contained “satinets” valued at $2,000—more in the neighborhood of $36,000 today.  The New-York Herald wrote “They were chased however, through New Chambers street.”  The Times was less charitable to the bystanders and, perhaps, a bit more precise.  “Of the hundreds passing up and down the street only a carman named John Riddle had seen [the thieves] in their act, and he gave chase and raised the alarm."

Two policemen, Officers Shannon and McCafferty joined in the chase.  At the corner of City Hall Place and Duane Street, Officer Shannon grabbed the bridle of one of the horses; but it broke.  Just then one of the thieves produced a firearm and shot twice.

“Away went horse and wagon and thieves until, reaching Chatham-street, a collision occurred and the wagon broke down, the thieves jumped out and escaped, abandoning the wagon and contents,” reported The Times.  The Herald added that the satins were intact.

Although the wrecked wagon was stenciled “J. Carlton, No. 868 Broadway,” the police felt it was of little evidence.  The Times said the identity of the wagon’s owner “did not aid in finding a clew to the thieves, as they had undoubtedly begun operations by stealing it with the horse attached ready for their adventure.”

In the spring of 1872 the Steward brothers signed what would be their most important lease.  Fairbanks & Co., based in Vermont, was a well-known and highly-successful manufacturer of scales.  In March that year the firm announced “The rapid increase of our business, the constant introduction of New Modifications of Scales, which demand additional room for their display, rendered it impossible for us longer to do justice to ourselves and the public at our old warehouse.  We take pleasure, therefore, in calling to the attention of our friends to our removal to the spacious and elegant store 311 Broadway.”

On March 6, 1872 Fairbanks & Co. announced its new location.  New-York Tribune (copyright expired)

By 1874 Fairbanks & Co. had opened branches in Boston, Montreal and London.  The factory, located in St. Johnsbury, Vermont, employed 600 full-time workers.  On October 17 that year the New-York Trade Reporter lauded “To say that these scales are the best of their kind, is simply to utter what everybody knows.  The reputation of the concern is inter-continental; their scales penetrating not only all parts of this country, but foreign countries as well.”

The Record & Guide called Fairbanks' cement testing machine "valuable" for contractors.  Real Estate Record & Builder's Guide, April 26, 1884 (copyright expired)

The broad array of scales available at No. 311 Broadway included personal-sized instruments as well as industrial scales.  As Christmas approached in 1876, the New-York Daily Tribune listed unusual gifts.  Among them was “An Original Holiday Gift.  Both useful and ornamental—Fairbanks’ Family Scales; Fairbanks’ U.S. Standard Postal Scales.”   

Fairbanks & Co. employed 18-year old John Steinberger as an “entry clerk” in 1879.  The teen found himself in serious trouble on Monday, July 28 that year.  He and a friend were walking along East 3^rd Street when, according to him, “a gang of some 20 roughs gathered about them and knocked them down.”

Outnumbered and in danger, Steinberger pulled out a “clasp-knife” from his pocket and warned the rabble.  As he retreated, the toughs “threw boxes and ash-barrels” at him.  Just then Police Officer Peter Rose appeared.  Steinberger thought his lucked had turned.  But things between the two quickly became confused.

Officer Rose told the boy “Young man, you had better go home.”  Instead, Steinberger “appealed for protection to the officer,” according to The Times a few days later.  Rose, suspicious as to why the teen refused to leave, told him in a sterner voice to “clear off.”  He did not.

Although John Steinberger “declared positively” he never touched the policeman, Officer Rose had a stab wound when he brought the young man into the police station.  Steinberger was held to await trial for felonious assault.

The head of Fairbanks & Co. was Henry L. Clapp.  An erudite traveler, he was a member of the London literary club, the Lotos Club.  After Clapp’s wife died in 1881 the millionaire often traveled with his physician and close friend, Dr. J. A. Towner.   

But when he disappeared in the fall of 1882 with no such trip planned, there was considerable and understandable concern at his Broadway office.  On November 4 The Times reported that he “left his home on the morning of Saturday, October 21, to be absent a few days, with considerable amount of money in his possession.  Since that date diligent search has been made, but nothing has been heard from him.”

Fairbanks & Co. spokespersons insisted there was “no motive whatsoever” in his disappearance and hinted at foul play.

A communal sigh of relief accompanied the arrival of a cable from Europe on November 4.  Clapp explained that he went to see a friend off on a steamship.  He agreed to accompany him “down the Bay” and return on the pilot boat.  But while the two friends were chatting in the ship’s saloon, the pilot boat returned to New York.  Now trapped on the ship Clapp was obliged to continue the trans-Atlantic voyage with only the suit he had worn to the dock.

Two years later, in June 1884 Clapp and Dr. Towner sailed for England.  On July 10, 1884 a disturbing wire arrived from London which read “Henry L. Clapp, of New-York, a member of the Lotos Club, of that city, is lying in a dying condition in the rooms of the Army and Navy Club, where he was stricken with paralysis yesterday.”  The New York Times reprinted the telegram with the headline “A New-Yorker Dying Abroad.”

As it turned out, the reports of Clapp’s impending death were overstated.  He returned to New York, and continued running Fairbanks & Co., was a director in the United States Life Insurance Company, a member in the exclusive Union League Club and was, according to The Times, “in close touch with the active and forceful men of the day.”

He eventually married “the daughter of one of the old families of Malta” and retired to the Villa Zammit, Pieta there.

In the meantime, in April 1887 the aging David Jackson Steward sold No. 311 to William Waldorf Astor for $220,000.  The Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide noted that the “five-story marble building” was still under lease to Fairbanks & Co. at $18,000 per year until 1891, “with the agreement on their part to keep it in repair.”

In 1901, after Fairbanks & Co. had been at No. 311 Broadway for three decades, Astor leased No. 418 Broome Street to the firm.  In their place the ground floor store of No. 311 Broadway became home to the Holz Clothing Company in 1902.

To celebrate its first anniversary, the men’s furnishing store offered a “birthday gift” to its customers during the week of May 11 1903.   Gentlemen purchasing a Holz suit—ranging from $7.50 to $15.00—would receive a $3 “Fancy Vest” for free.   Those customers purchasing a smaller item, amounting to $1 to $2, would receive a free 50 cent scarf pin.  And purchases over $2 would get the buyer a $1 gold-filled watch fob.

By 1906 Holz Clothing had been replaced by the Bridgeport Athletic Mfg. Co. store.  Here athletes could shop for baseball equipment like a $1.50 “craven horsehide”catcher’s mitt; or a waterproof fielder’s glove for $1.75.  Tennis rackets were priced at between $2.75 and $3.50; while a professional model baseball bat could be had for 50 cents.

Three years later the David T. Ambercrombie Co. was here.  Ambercrombie had already supplied custom-made tents and other equipment to Dr. Frederick A. Cook’s expeditions up Mt. McKinley and to the Far West when the explorer announced in 1909 he had reached the North Pole.  But not everyone thought he actually did.

On September 8, 1909 The Times reported “David T. Ambercrombie of 311 Broadway…declared yesterday that no man who knows the Brooklyn explorer intimately will question that he was the first to reach the north pole…Dr. Cook would not say he had discovered the pole just for the sake of getting a reputation.”  (Incidentally, Cook took Ambercrombie’s custom-designed tent with him on the North Pole expedition.)

Meanwhile, the L. C. Smith & Bros. Typewriter Co. had opened its New York offices upstairs.  The firm’s typewriters were manufactured in Syracuse, New York.  An advertisement promised “We can prove that our typewriter will do more and better work and do it longer than any other typewriter.”

New-York Tribune, April 8, 1913 (copyright expired)

The company also provided typists to local businesses.  Mrs. Mary Stroker headed up the L. C. Smith Typewriter Companies Employment Bureau.  The Evening World described her as “very business-like.”  Mary’s employees would do the typewriting work either in the Broadway location, or on site at the client’s office. 

Early in January 1908 Robert MacGregor arrived at the office, looking for a job.  McGregor had red whiskers, prompting The Evening World to describe him as “forty years old and with his rubicund cheek adornments appeared responsible.”

Mrs. Stroker soon had reason to question his responsibility.  He told her he was charged with electricity and magnetism, which he had acquired when he touched a dynamo at the Edison Electric Company, where he had been formerly employed.

Then, noticing her plaid shirtwaist, he declared it was his family’s tartan and she must be of the Clan MacGregor.  She denied that and hurriedly ended the interview.

But a week later MacGregor was back.  He handed Mrs. Stroker a sheet of folded paper “with an air of mystery.”  She did not open it, but listened patiently while he told her that he was going to buy Edinborough Castle, marry her, and set up “a new clan MacGregor.”

She listened patiently because, unknown to MacGregor, she had passed a note to a stenography student instructing her to find a policeman.  The moment the policeman appeared in the doorway MacGregor left.  The sheet of paper bore a poem of love, including the lines

I’ll love you while old winter holds his sway

And we will Married be,

When the birds sing tra la lee,

Upon our wedding day

It was not the last Mary Stroker would see of Robert MacGregor.  He reappeared on January 21 and this time was tossed out.  But five minutes later a messenger arrived with a note that read “You are my soul’s desire, marry me and we will never see a typewriter again.  Invitations to our royal parties will be written with diamond pens on gold-laid paper smothered in mother-of-pearl.”

Mary Stroker had had enough and sent for the same policeman, Officer Gallagher, who arrested MacGregor.  The Evening World reported “In the Centre Street Court he protested his true love for Mrs. Stroker, and said he would make her a millionairess even though times were hard.  So they sent him to Bellevue to think it over.”  (Bellevue Hospital was noted for its insanity ward.)

No. 311 Broadway saw a range of tenants throughout the early decades of the 20^th century.  In April 1918 the Water Supervision Company took a floor, and the K. & S. Nicola exporters leased the second floor.

In 1920 another exporting firm, M. & J. Btesh, was in the building.  On July 10 that year the firm’s 16-year old messenger boy, Ralph Sasson, was sent to the Foreign Banking Corporation to deposit $11,000 in Liberty Bonds and a $75 check.  He never returned.

With what seemed to him to be unlimited funds, the boy traveled from city to city, cashing one bond at a time.  He finally ended up in Montreal where he intended to stay.  In the meantime, his employer and his family were left wondering if he had been murdered or kidnapped.

Sasson’s big mistake came in November when he reentered the United States to buy an automobile.  When he attempted to return to Montreal, he was arrested by Canadian customs authorities for attempting to bring the car into Canada without paying duty.

The boy’s father, Israel Sasson who was a broker at No. 366 Broadway, traveled to Montreal to bring him back to New York to face prosecution.  It was not until then that Ralph discovered that his mother, overcome with worry and grief, had committed suicide three weeks after he disappeared.

When he was arrested Sasson had liquidated the remaining $7,500 in bonds with a Montreal brokerage firm.

In 1922 the Eugene H. Tower company was in the retail space.  Dealers in paper and novelties, the store was somewhat of a precursor to today’s craft shops.  An advertisement on April 6, 1922 announced “Girls—Learn to make paper hats, dresses, favors and decorate for parties…Our expert will also teach you, free of charge, how to make Bead Necklaces of Sealing Wax, Lamp Shades and hundreds of clever paper novelties that will make you the perfect hostess.”

Throughout the 1920s the upper offices were mainly occupied by legal firms.

Then in August 1948 the Hagstrom Company, headed by Swedish immigrant Andrew G. Hagstrom, purchased the building.  The Times noted “the transaction marked the first change of ownership for this parcel in sixty-one years.”  Hagstrom, who paid “all cash,” announced he intended to use the entire building for its mapmaking, art and photographic company.

In 1968 Hagstrom Company was acquired by MacMillan Publishing.  The Hagstrom store moved to 43^rd Street and Fifth Avenue.  Today a gruesomely-monstrous modernization has obliterated anything attractive at street level.  But other than the replacement windows, the upper floors look much as they did in 1857 when the handsome marble-fronted building was completed.

photographs by the author