The 1831 James N. Wells House - 183 Ninth Avenue

 

James N. Wells was a carpenter-builder in Greenwich Village, responsible for the construction of St. Luke's Church on Hudson Street.  But when Clement Clarke Moore decided to parcel off his family's summer estate, Chelsea, in the late 1820's, Wells became his property manager.

In 1831 construction began on a house and store at the northwest corner of Ninth Avenue and West 21st Street for a "Mr. Royer."  Completed the following year, it was two-and-a-half stories tall and faced in red Flemish bond brick.  In the rear was an ample yard with a small wooden house.

Wells purchased the property soon afterward and is listed as living here with his family in 1833.  It was a temporary arrangement while he constructed a grand brick residence nearby at 414 West 22nd Street.   When he moved out in 1835, he leased the street level shop to Theodore Martine's feed and grocery store.   Wells did not totally leave the building.  City directories indicate that Wells moved his real estate office into the upper portion, above the store.

Theodore Martine had entered the grocery, flour and feed business in 1826.  In the mid-1840's the Board of Aldermen relied on his expertise to examine the goods provided to the Alms House and other institutions.  On the afternoon of New Year's Eve, 1845, for example, he looked over 20 chests of tea (finding that "one fell short two pounds"), "several hogsheads" of molasses, a delivery of muslins, and 20 boxes of soap.  He found soap missing from some of the boxes, tampering of the molasses barrels, and a portion of the tea "worthless."

Martine operated his store from 159 Ninth Avenue (renumbered 183 in 1868) until 1850.  His son Randolph B. Martine would go on to become the new District Attorney in 1885.  In reporting on his new position Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper would comment, "His father, Theodore Martine, will be remembered by old citizens of the West Side as an extensive grocer and real estate dealer."

The store next became home to the Vanvalkenburgh & Martin grocery store.  John A. Vanvalkenburgh and his family lived above the store while his partner Joseph T. Martin lived nearby at No. 147 West 21st Street.

In 1856 John A. Vanvalkenburgh and moved his produce business to Washington Market and his son, John J. Vanvalkenburgh partnered with Benjamin Haviland to continue the store here.  They operated it as Vanvalkenburgh & Haviland grocers.  That partnership lasted until 1860 when Haviland opened his own store on Fourth Avenue.  John Pierson ran the grocery here until at least 1862.

The grocery store continued to change hands.  In 1864 and '65 it was run by George A. and Joseph T. McDowell, and beginning in 1867 it was called the Browning & Berry grocery, run by Lewis F. Browning and James E. Berry.  Interestingly, the partners lived next door to one another at 160 and 162 Ninth Avenue.

Households in the middle of the 19th century depended heavily on lighting oils like kerosene for lamps.  These were generally a staple found in neighborhood grocery stores like Browning & Berry.  In the winter of 1869 proprietors were surprised by agents of the Metropolitan Board of Health who took samples of the kerosene-oil as well as lamps they were selling for testing.  Unfortunately for Browning & Berry, their kerosene was deemed "below Legal Standard."

James N. Wells died in 1860 and in 1865 his family sold the property.  It was purchased by Levi L. Livingston.  He was a decorative painter, responsible for murals and painted interior decorations of public and private buildings, including the Masonic Temple on 23rd Street and Sixth Avenue. Instrumental in organizing the Association of Master Painters of which he was president several times, Livingston had “heavy contracts for painting the North River steamers and the elevated railroads,” according to The New York Times.

After his death in 1882, his estate continued to maintain the property until finally selling it in 1910; advertising the house as a “three story tenement and store.”

In the meantime, as had been the case with Vanvalkenburgh & Haviland, Browning & Berry dissolved in 1871 when James Berry opened a store on Fourth Avenue.  Lewis F. Browning took in a new partner, Albert H. Siemers, who lived next door at No. 185.  They would operate the grocery here until at least through 1880.

By 1889 the store was run by Clamor L. Magna.  He lived upstairs, taking in three grocery clerks as boarders at the turn of the century.    He would remain in the space into the early years of the 20th century.

Most of the 20th century was unkind to this section of Ninth Avenue, with the clattering elevated train running down its center.  At one point 183 Ninth Avenue was divided into apartments, but in 1993 as Chelsea was rediscovered, it was purchased by attorney Steven Shore.  He hired architect Stephen B. Jacobs who restored the storefront and created a single residence on the upper floors.  The Wells house is the second oldest house in Chelsea.

photographs by the author

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The Wm. Henry Weston House -- No. 400 West 22nd Street

Real estate developer James N. Wells was a good friend of Clement Clark Moore, best known known for his poem A Visit From Saint Nicholas.  As Moore’s family estate, Chelsea, was divided into building plots in the first decades of the 19^th century, Wells was almost single-handedly responsible for its development.

In 1835 Wells erected a brick-faced mansion for himself at No. 414 West 22^nd Street—about twice the width of an average building plot.  The house was conveniently around the corner from his office at No. 183 Ninth Avenue.  Two decades later he laid plans to fill the vacant lot between his home and the avenue with a row of handsome matching homes, Nos. 400 through 412 West 22^nd Street.

In stark contrast to his own double-width mansion, these houses were only a few inches over 14 feet wide.  Working in the now-popular Italianate style, the architect used linear elements to give the illusion that the houses were wider than they in fact were.    The doorways were recessed into the rusticated brownstone base—the straight lines of which drew the eye vertically along the row.   Shallow stoops and understated entrances drew little attention; unlike high brownstone stoops which would have blatantly advertised their proximity to one another. 

The houses were additionally unified by a long cast iron balcony at parlor level, above the first floor cornice.   Dormers perched along the roofline where the shallow hipped roofs rose from the heavy bracketed cornice.

No. 400 sat on the corner lot—normally the most desirable location because of the opportunity for additional windows along the side.  For some reason, however, the house received only three openings on Ninth Avenue, one per floor.

No. 400, like its neighbors, is just two bays wide.

At the time of the Civil War the owner of No. 400 preferred to remain anonymous when, in 1865 a donation of a “bundle of clothing” was sent to the St. Barnabas House of the New York Protestant Episcopal Mission Society.  It benefactor may have been Dr. H. L. Coit, who lived here by 1870.  He would become Secretary of the College of Pharmacy within a few years; and was the first of a long string of physicians in the house.

Dr. Coit was in the house at least into 1871; followed by the ambitious and strong-willed Dr. Caroline J. Yeomans.   She advertised her office hours in the house as “9-12” daily.   Dr. Yeomans was 39 years old and still living and practicing at No. 400 West 22^nd Street on Saturday, March 6, 1875 when Lavinia C. B. Keep died of heart disease in Brooklyn.

Lavinia was the wife of the esteemed Brooklyn physician Lester Keep.  The couple’s son S. Hopkins Keep, had followed his father’s profession and operated his medical office from the family home at the corner of Vanderbilt and Gates Avenue.

The medical community was most likely shocked when the following year Dr. Keep “a physician of extensive practice in Brooklyn, and now over 84 years old, having buried his first wife in March, 1876 [sic], married Caroline J. Yoemans, an M. D., aged about 40 years,” as reported in The New York Times.

Caroline left West 22^nd Street and moved to Brooklyn with her new husband.  But the strong-willed female doctor had no intention of sharing a practice with her step-son.  The Times reported “Shortly after the arrival of Mrs. Keep, M. D., the step-son had to take down his sign and vacate the premises.  Whereupon Mrs. Keep put up her tablet as a practicing physician.”

The younger Dr. Keep immediately filed two law suits—one for the money advanced for the erection of a memorial to his mother who was buried in Fair Haven, Connecticut; “and the other against the father and step-mother to decide the amount of his interest in the house…from which he was ejected,” reported The Times.

The issue stemmed from an agreement between Dr. Lester Keep and his son in 1872 that “if the son would assist in defraying the household expenses the house should revert to him on the death of the father and his then wife.  After the death of the first Mrs. Keep, a further agreement of the same tenor was entered into between the father and son.”

In May 1875, following Lavinia Keep’s death, Lester Keep revised his will, bequeathing the house to his son.   But when he married Caroline Yeomans, he deeded the property to her and destroyed his will.   Caroline then “demanded that her step-son should pay rent for his apartments or clear out,” said The New York Times on June 29, 1878.  The judge was unsympathetic with Caroline Yeoman Keep’s treatment of her step-son.  He found her guilty of “fraud” and directed her to pay S. Hopkins Keep $5,478.22—about $135,000 today.

In the meantime, the house on 22^nd Street had become home to yet another physician, Raul S. Gage (whose name was sometimes spelled “Ruel”).   By 1883 he had moved to nearby No. 369 West 23^rd Street and Dr. William Henry Weston moved in. 

Weston, who was born on a Hancock, New Hampshire farm on August 8, 1849.  He had married Frances Pope.  In 1889 William Willis Hayward described his modest background. “In his youth Doctor Weston attended the district school a few weeks each year, and worked on the farm the rest of the time.  In 1866 he attended the high school in Peterboro one term, and the next year assumed the charge of the farm, and from that time until he was 21 years of age he remained at home, attending school during the winter terms.”

For the next few years Weston bounced around, taking jobs in a grocery store in Omaha; teaching in Marlow, New Hampshire;  and serving as a waiter at a resort hotel.  He continued to work the family farm while he studied medicine in Manchester, finally entering the College of Physicians and Surgeons in Brooklyn.  By the time he moved into the house at No. 400 West 22^nd Street, he was recognized as a specialist in spinal diseases.

On April 15, 1889 Weston was called from the house to that of Dr. George R. Gyles, who lived a block away at No. 417 West 23^rd Street.  Gyles was well known, having practiced medicine in the city for nearly four decades.  But the death of his daughter a year earlier, coupled with a malpractice suit that cost him $1,500 shortly afterward, had affected him deeply.

That morning, around 8:30, Dr. Gyles entered his wife’s room with a goblet of white liquid.   The New-York Tribune reported that “after chatting with her for awhile on commonplace subjects, he asked her to take a drink from the glass which he held in his hand.  Mrs. Gyles thought that the mixture was magnesia, which the doctor had been in the habit of taking frequently, and refused to touch it.”

The doctor gently pressured her, saying he thought it would be beneficial to her.  She refused again and he “said something in an undertone in a petulant manner and went to his room.”

A maid was passing by the doctor’s door about a half an hour later, when she heard groans.  Opening the door she found him lying on the bed only semi-conscious.  When she shook him and asked what was the matter, he opened his eyes and said “I am dying.”

When Dr. Weston arrived, Gyles’s son was in the bedroom.  “The son raised his father’s head from the bed to give him relief and he died in his son’s arms,” recounted the newspaper.   There was nothing that Dr. Weston could have done to save the physician.  The powder he had dissolved in the goblet was strychnine.   “It was evidently Dr. Gyles’s intention to have his wife die with him,” said the Tribune, adding “Mrs. Gyles is deeply affected and is suffering from nervous prostration, which is aggravated by the narrow escape which she had from death.”

The call to Dr. Gyles’s home was not out of the ordinary.  On October 22, 1896 Dr. Weston was called to the boarding house at No. 361 West 21^st Street.  A servant girl, Mary O’Brien, had smelled lighting gas in the hallway and traced the odor to the door of 29-year old broker Gerald Griffin on the third floor.  When the door was opened, he was found unconscious on his bed, having attempted suicide.

Dr. Weston and another physician, Dr. Rice of No. 213 West 23^rd Street, worked on the man until about 9:00 that evening, when he was taken to New-York Hospital in critical condition.  Newspapers explained “It was said that he had been drinking heavily of late, and had become despondent on account of business troubles.”

In another instance, Weston was called to the house of Albert Emery at No. 339 West 20^th Street.  On the morning of December 9, 1898, Emery’s 68-year old brother-in-law, Washington Freeman, and his wife arrived from Portsmouth, New Hampshire for a visit.  Freeman was President of the Mechanics and Traders’ Bank in Portsmouth; as well as the former owner of the Portsmouth Chronicle and Gazette.

That morning Freeman complained of chest pains, which increased after lunch at a restaurant on Broadway near 22^nd Street.   The pains were such upon leaving the restaurant that Freeman asked his wife to call a carriage.  On the way to the Emery house, the man lost consciousness.

“On reaching the house he was assisted to a lounge in the parlor and a doctor was sent for.  Dr. W. H. Weston of 400 West Twenty-second street was the first to arrive, but Mr. Freeman was dead when he got there,” reported The Sun the following day.

The 64-year old William Henry Weston was still practicing medicine here in 1913.  The Physician’s Who’s Who, New York State recorded his daily office hours as from 8 to 10:00 in the morning, 1 to 2:00 in the afternoon, and 5:30 to 7:30 every evening.  Upon his retirement he moved to the home of his daughter, Zady P. Weston, at No. 249 West 11^th Street where he died at the age of 87 in 1937.

By the time the house at No. 400 West 22^nd Street was sold to Julia R. Donnelly in September, 1918, stores had already been carved into the Ninth Avenue base.   She leased it to the family of Thomas F. Burchill, an auctioneer and New York State Assemblyman.   Burchill and his wife had five children.  But Donnelly apparently changed her mind about renting rather quickly.

On October 15, 1920 The New York Times reported that she “is seeking to regain possession of her property, 400 West 22d Street, under the provisions of one of the new rent laws which says that an owner may recover possession for the personal occupancy of himself and his family.”  The Assemblyman was apparently able to hold out for another year—directories still listed him in the house in 1921.

In 1941 the house was converted to apartments, two per floor.   Later that year Japan bombed the United States air base at Pearl Harbor; pulling the U.S. into the World War.  Within months Helen Richey was on her way to England where she became a member of the Aviation Transport Auxiliary, a group of American women who supplemented the British Women’s Ferry Command.  One of Richey’s assignments was to fly loads of bombs from munitions factories to air bases.

Before the war Helen Richey was already well-known as the only female passenger airline pilot and the only woman to fly the United States mails.  She was briefly a co-pilot for Central Airlines, beginning in December 1934; but resigned after an ugly controversy over the physical capability of a woman to fly an airliner.   She was co-pilot with Amelia Earhart in the Bendix Trophy race of 1936—the same year she took the record for the world’s altitude record for light planes.   In 1940 she received the first instructor’s license ever awarded a woman by the Civil Aeronautics Authority.

 

Helen Richey as she appeared in 1929 --San Diego Air and Space Museum Archive

Following the war Helen Richey returned to the States and took an apartment in No. 400 West 22^nd Street.  On Saturday evening, January 4, 1947 she gave a party in the apartment for a few friends.  The following morning one of the guests called and spoke to her.  It was the last time anyone would hear her voice.

When the same friend, Mary Parker, could not get in touch with her after more than a day, she contacted neighbor Robert Wright who lived across the street at No. 405 West 22^nd Street.  He used a passkey to enter Richey’s apartment, where he found the 37-year old aviator dead in her bed.  Her death was ruled a suicide by overdose.

The handsome house underwent interior renovations in 1982, resulting in a total of five apartments in the building including two duplexes. 

photographs by the author

The 1825 James N. Wells House -- 487 Hudson Street

The house is two bays wider than its neighbors -- photo by Alice Lum

In 1714, Queen Anne bestowed on Trinity Church a vast section of land stretching along the Hudson River from Duane Street to what would become Christopher Street to the north in the Village of Greenwich.  The large tract of land became familiarly known as the “Trinity Farm” or the “Church Farm.”

The sleepy hamlet would see a tremendous building boom as a result of the 1822 yellow fever epidemic that caused New York City residents to flee northward to the country.  Yet, two years earlier, an ambitious development project on the Trinity Church land was already under consideration.

Mrs. Catherine Ritter lived at the corner of West 4^th Street and Little Jones Street.  A meeting was held in her house in 1820 with the goal in mind to see an Episcopalian chapel erected in the village.  On November 6 of that year, the parish of St. Luke’s was organized.  Clement C. Moore, whose family estate Chelsea sat north of Greenwich Village, was named senior warden.

The chosen site for the chapel sat mid-block on the west side of Hudson Street between Christopher and Barrow Streets.  The rural setting resulted in its being popularly called “St. Luke’s in the Fields,” a moniker that survives today.  Construction on St. Luke’s Chapel began in 1821 and was completed a year later.  The structure was erected by James N. Wells, who would later nearly single-handedly develop Moore’s Chelsea into a vibrant community. 

St. Luke's, a chapel of Trinity Church, was completed in 1822 -- photo by Alice Lum

With the chapel completed, attention was focused on developing the rest of the church-owned block.  Wells would be responsible for encircling the block with Federal-style rowhouses which shielded from public view the graveyard and gardens of the chapel.  Among the first four homes to be built was 487 Hudson Street which flanked the chapel to the north and would become home to James N. Wells, himself.  Construction was completed in 1825 and Wells’s home would be the largest on the block—a full 36 feet wide.  Two-and-a-half stories high, it featured the expected dormers sitting above the eave line, and a handsome entrance with Ionic columns, sidelights and transom.

The handsome entrance survives intact.  Flemish bond brickwork adds to the charm and the window to the right of the door retains its paneled lintel. --photo by Alice Lum

Wells lived in the spacious home until 1833 when he moved to No. 183 Ninth Avenue in Chelsea.  Within the decade the Hudson Street house would become home to the family of Captain William Newcomb.  Here, on the afternoon of Saturday, December 21, 1844, Newcomb’s eldest daughter, Elizabeth, died.  Her funeral was held in the parlor at 3:30 on Christmas Eve.

Within two years the large home was being operated as a boarding house.  An advertisement in the New-York Daily Tribune on February 5, 1846 offered, “Furnished rooms with board to be obtained at No. 487 Hudson-st.  References exchanged.”  It was apparently at this time that Francis Brett Harte’s family lived here, having arrived from Albany in 1845.  Brett Harte would grow up to become one of Americans most beloved writers.

In 1851, the church took over the house as St. Luke’s Home for Indigent Christian Females.  The institution was incorporated on January 12, 1854, and was supported mainly by private donations.   In 1855, the Journal of the Proceedings of the Annual Convention of the Protestant Episcopal Church complained about tepid donations.

In 1857 the house had been raised to a full three floors--from the collection of the New York Public Library

St. Luke’s Home for Indigent Females, though in more vigorous operation, and unable to meet the numerous applicants for admission, has not received the wide support which an indispensable church institution demands.  As this is not a parochial institution, (only one of its inmates being from St. Luke’s Parish) but general both in its organization and in its admissions from the city parishes at large, its humane benefits will, we trust, enlist the more general interest and support of the Church.

On January 14, 1864, the Home received a windfall when New York City Board of Councilmen voted to donate $1,000 (a generous $25,500 in today’s terms).  On Christmas Eve 1867 there were 31 “inmates” in the home.  That year temperance advocate J. B. Swann donated the women’s Christmas dinner.  “Turkeys and geese are to be the substantials,” reported the New-York Tribune.  However, the newspaper noted that Christmas was an understated holiday—its focus being more religious than festive.  “Beyond this nothing is to be done, as in this Institution ‘Thanksgiving’ is the principal day.”

By 1870, the building had been enlarged to the rear.  That year the Board of State Commissioners of Public Charities described it, saying, “The building…is thirty-six feet front by forty-feet deep, and three stories high, with an extension eighteen by thirty-six feet.  It is in good repair and well furnished, and adapted to its present use.”

By now, there were 34 women living here.  The Committee noted “They are admitted for life, and none are removed except upon the request of relatives or friends desirous of providing for their support.”

The elderly women were comfortable, but clearly not pampered.  “The house is plainly but comfortably furnished, the table is well supplied, and proper medical attention is given to the sick and the infirm.”

In 1871, a confusing legal issue arose when John Alstyne died.  In his will he bequeathed $25,000 to “The Old Ladies’ Home.”  The problem was that no institution went by that name.  When The Home for Aged and Indigent Females laid claim to the hefty legacy, St. Luke’s Home countered with a law suit.  It took Judge Spencer several months of consideration to decide that it was St. Luke’s Home that Alstyne had in mind.

The windfall would help in the construction of the new St. Luke’s Home for Indigent Christian Females on Madison Avenue and 89^th Street the following year.  In 1872, Wood’s Illustrated Hand-book to New York and Environs remarked on the coming move.  “It is at present on Hudson street, and its doors are open to persons of respectability in reduced circumstances, and who are members of the Episcopal Church.  The new building just ready for occupation…is four stories high.  The style is mediaeval Gothic, with Mansard roof and three towers.”

The house on Hudson Street was immediately taken over by a new institution.  The Home for Old Men and Aged Couples was incorporated in 1872.  The New York Times explained, “While St. Luke’s afforded a refuge for aged Christian women, there was no place under church influences open to receive old men, or where an aged couple could pass their declining years together.  It was also desired to extend a home to those who had once been prosperous, and while so unfortunate as to lose their property still retained their good names.”

Although there was a considerable admission fee of $250, the elderly men and aged married couples lived cost-free after that.  Bishop Horatio Potter described the home in flowery Victorian prose:

The very name of such a home calls up before the mind an image of touching interest.  We think of the life within that Christian Home—serene, patient, cheerful—of the aged men rescued from lonely want and suffering, and brought into a family where needed comforts are secured to them, where love reigns, and where, by kindly looks and words they can contribute to each other’s enjoyment.  We think of the aged couples saved from the bitterness of separation—saved from the daily dread of a to-morrow, harder to bear than the cold and hunger of to-day; we think of these aged couples established in a Christian home, provided with simple comforts, themselves overflowing with gratitude to God and to their early friends for the unimagined blessings vouchsafed to them, and never weary of exchanging with other inmates as favored as themselves the touching story of former trials and present mercies.

The Home flourished and in 1872 the New York City Mission and Tract Society noted, “The House now numbers among its inmates several who have been successful in the learned professions, and who have had high standing in mercantile life in this city.”  The report added “Here their remaining days can be passed in comfort, and free from anxiety as to whence their daily bread will come.  Only those who are too old to take care of themselves, and who have no one friend from whom they can claim support, are admitted.”

At some point an architecturally-questionable hood was installed over the entrance -- photograph 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=24UAYW57K3LP&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

On December 1, 1887, the Home held its 15^th annual reception.  By now there were 31 elderly persons living in the house.  “The old people received their friends in the parlors,” reported The New York Times.  “Other rooms were fitted up with tables upon which were spread for sale fancy work of all descriptions, contributed by Miss Byson, Mrs. Kane, Mrs. O’Connor, and Mrs. Williams.  The proceeds are to go to the home.”

In 1892, King’s Handbook of New York City was still a bit surprised that the home allowed inmates of both sexes.  “The home is at 487 Hudson Street, and here aged married couples are allowed to dwell comfortably together during their closing years.”  By now the number of residents had risen to 36.

Like its predecessor, The Home for Old Men and Aged Couples eventually moved further uptown.  In 1896 it acquired land on 112^th Street and Amsterdam Avenue and completed a new building the following year.

Little has changed to No. 487 Hudson Street since Berenice Abbott took this photograph on June 13, 1936 -- from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYW57K95U&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

The house remained little changed throughout the 20^th century.  By the 1960s it served as St. Luke’s Parish House, and then as St. Luke’s School.  In describing it and its surviving neighbors, the Landmarks Preservation Commission said, “These houses provide us with some of the finest examples of Federal architecture remaining in the city, and are among the few of the period for which a builder is definitely known.”

The James Wells House at No. 162 9th Avenue

By the time the Civil War was over, James N. Wells had made a fortune in the real estate business, nearly single-handedly selling and developing the plots of land that had earlier been part of Clement Moore’s family estate, Chelsea. 

Wells start out in real estate in 1819.  By 1833 he was living and doing business from the charming two-story brick house at 183 9^th Avenue.  Two years later he completed a fine brick town house just around the block; over twice the width of the surrounding homes.  But Wells would move again to an even more impressive house.

The large Greek Revival brick residence at No. 162 9^th Avenue, just down the street from his office, rose four stories over an English basement.  The understated brownstone lentils and modest cornice were eclipsed by the imposing entrance way.  Two stately fluted Doric columns flanked the heavy paneled double doors above a set of seven brownstone steps.  Wells’ house stretched back eastward on 20^th Street, a distance amounting to at least one additional residential lot.

The stately entrance with its fluted brownstone columns.

By the time the often-moving James Wells died on February 16, 1892 he was living at No. 12 East 42^nd Street, just off the very fashionable Fifth Avenue.   Professor Joseph H. Gomien was living in No. 162 9^th Avenue as early as 1884.  Gomien taught  music in Public School 64, was well-known as the organist for St. Peter’s Roman Catholic Church on Barclay Street, and by 1895 was giving musical instruction from the house.

Three years later Patrick H. Bird was living here.  In 1898 he was working for the New York City Docks Department and earning $1200 a year as a “Stenographer and Typewriter.”   It would be several years before typewriters (the turn of the century term for secretaries) and stenographers were mainly females.  Office work at the time was the bailiwick of men and women were still, for the most part, expected to stay at home.

The heavy cast iron fence with its over-sized palmettes wraps the property.

In 1899 the Catholic Boys’ Association was formed.  Its purpose was “to keep boys off the streets at night, to offer them innocent amusements, and to bring them under refined and elevated influences,” according to the Proceedings of the National Conference of Charities and Correction that year.  For several years Bird administered the Association from his house.   It does not appear, however, that many of the boys were ever lodged in the Bird home, if any at all.

The stalwart widow Sarah Loomis was next to live here.  She was, in 1910, an officer of the Young People’s Prohibition League.   Sarah intended to achieve “The prohibition of total abstinence from all intoxicating liquors and the entire prohibition of their manufacture and sale.”

By 1919 the Yagnini family was living in No. 162.  In the politically-charged atmosphere born of World War I, anarchist uprisings and global revolutions, Peter Yagnini and his wife Mildred were documented Republicans.    Their son Phillip was registered as a Socialist.  The parlor and dining room of No. 162 9^th Avenue were the scene of several intense political discussions, one might assume.

In 1941 the brick facade was painted white.  A fire escape to the rear confirms its multi-family use by now.  The other buildings along the Avenue have been converted to commercial use.  photo NYPL Collection

As the 20^th century progressed, the unusually large residence was financially burdensome to maintain as a private dwelling.  In addition, while the Chelsea side streets remained still charming, 9^th Avenue had taken a decidedly commercial turn.   The handsome house was broken into apartments and remains so today.

The striking Greek Revival house with its long list of interesting owners is beautifully preserved.  Its heavy, decorative iron fencing remains around the light moat to the basement.  It is an often overlooked beauty with an engaging past.

non-credited photographs taken by the author

The 1835 James N. Wells House -- No. 414 West 22nd Street

James N. Wells established his real estate business in 1819.  By 1833 he was living and running the business dealings from the quaint brick house at 183 9th Avenue. As Clement Moore broke his sprawling estate, Chelsea, into plots he collaborated with Wells on the sale and development of the sites.

The unflagging Wells was instrumental in transforming Chelsea from meadows and farmland into a rapidly growing residential and commercial section.  And it made him a small fortune in the meantime.

In 1835 Wells completed his own grand town house at 414 West 22nd Street, just about a block from his office. Its Greek Revival design was just appearing and its exceptional width stretching five bays across – over twice the size of an average lot—allowed a symmetrical balance seldom enjoyed by contemporary rowhouses.

The house was three stories tall over a deep brownstone English basement. A centered entrance led to a central stair hall with matching parlors on either side.

Two years after the home’s completion, the Financial Panic of 1837 and the subsequent depression brought development in Chelsea to a virtual standstill for a few years; however Wells’ business survived and soon thrived again.

While the Civil War was raging to the South, the Wells House got a makeover sometime between 1864 and 1866, including a fashionable mansard roof to bring it up to date.

Well's house, far right, at five bays (windows) wide, was significantly wider than the two-bay houses along the block.

In 1867 The Samaritan Home for the Aged was founded in an effort to relieve the overcrowded conditions of other old age homes. It advertised itself as “a permanent home for aged, friendless, indigent persons, of good character, of both sexes, over 65 years of age, and of all Protestant denominations.”  The home was supported by voluntary contributions, a $250 entrance fee (a sizable amount in 1867), and bequeaths.

By 1870 the Home needed a permanent building and No. 414 was purchased.  King’s Handbook of New York City called “a cheerful and commodious home,”  The following year in an effort to make the mortgage payments, Sophie B. D. Denny wrote to the Board of Estimate and Apportionment.  

In her letter she pled, “We have been and are continuing to use every effort in our power to lawfully and respectably raise our treasury from its present very low state, but should feel so encouraged and rewarded could we occasionally be remembered among the innumerable donations to the many charities of the metropolis.

“Fifty souls we already have under our care; $25,000 would be so acceptable.”

Ms. Denny’s plea apparently did not reap the harvest she wanted, and by the beginning of 1885 the institution was in trouble.

On January 27 of that year The New York Times reported on the home’s financial worries. “At the close of its eighteenth year the Home finds itself with 16 men and 20 women under its charge and an indebtedness of $2,000 in the shape of a mortgage on its property.”  Donations, which The New York Times called “a change to help the aged poor,” were “earnestly solicited by the manager.”

Within three years the Home had turned the financial corner. The number of inmates had increased to 47 but donations rose to $15,729 with expenditures of $15,442 and a permanent fund of $20,000.

Partial credit for the turn of events could be placed on the St. Valentine’s Kettledrum. Organized by socialites to aid the Home, it was a strange mixture of bazaar, dinner party and dance. The event became an annual affair that lasted for decades – well into the 1920s.

In 1892 The New York Times reported that “For twenty years these events have been very fashionable affairs and great financial successes. Last year $3,000 was cleared and everything points toward as large receipts to-day.” Listed among “the ladies interested” was Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt and, according to the newspaper, “the rich society people of the city have allowed no engagement to interfere with their attending the annual St. Valentine’s kettledrum in aid of the Samaritan Home for the Aged.”

Operating funds came from legacies, as well.  In 1889 The Baptist Home Mission Monthly reported that Thomas Hope, “a wealthy Scotchman,” left $3000 to the Home; and in 1902 Samuel D. Babcock willed $2,000 and Mary J. Walker left another $10,000.

At the turn of the century there were 19 men and 15 women residing at the home, one of whom had been there seventeen years.  A year later, in 1901, Philip F. Olwell, attending to his obligations as a good citizen, left the Home to register to vote.  Mr. Olwell was turned away because he lived in an institution and, therefore, had no right to vote.

When he sued, he lost the court case. The verdict was appealed in Supreme Court. He lost again. The judgment read “A person residing at the Samaritan Home for the Aged does not, by such residence, acquire the right to vote at elections within the district wherein such home is located.”

It would be years – too late for Philip Olwell—before the injustice was reversed.

In 1941 a fire escape zig-zagged down the face, but the 19th century detailing remained.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

On May 27, 1929 the cornerstone for the new Samaritan Home for the Aged was laid at 440 East 88th Street.  The aged brick residence was taken over as the Women’s Emergency Lodge of the Salvation Army where needy women were given shelter until 1952.  That year the Lodge was moved to 11 Dominick Street.

The following year the house was renovated into 25 furnished rooms and, in 1971, modernized again as 30 apartments.

Today most of the architectural detailing of 414 West 22nd Street has been stripped away. The brownstone window surrounds have been shaved flat, even with the brick façade and the once-elegant doorway is by no means elegant.

But the super-wide mansion of James N. Wells still exudes the grace and elegance that was.

non-credited photographs taken by the author