2nd Collegiate Reformed Church - Lenox Avenue and 123rd St

In 1660, just 35 years after the Dutch West India Company erected the fort that would become New Amsterdam, Dutch pioneers built a small church far to the north.  It served a tiny settlement that would become the village of Haarlem, named after the old town in their homeland.

The Reformed Low Dutch Church's little building sat at what would become 125th Street near the Harlem River.  More than two centuries later, in May 1888, The Treasury; a Magazine of Religious and Current Thought supposed, "it was most likely of split logs.  The contributions were in planks, nails, schepels of wheat, day's work."  Twenty years later a stone church was built, but it was destroyed by the British during the Revolution.

By the time of the article, the congregation was in its fourth building.  Harlem (the town's spelling had lost one of its a's) was no longer a remote village, but was quickly blossoming into a vibrant northern suburb.  A committee was formed on April 11, 1884 "to consider the expediency of erecting a new church."

That new church would not be the fifth structure the the group, but the first for a newly-formed congregation.  A History of the Reformed Low Dutch Church of Harlem, published in 1910, explained that original plan was that the new structure would replace the old.  But then, "it was decided to continue work in the old field.  The two churches were, therefore, joined into one corporation and thus became collegiate."

Therefore, the original took the name of The First Collegiate Reformed Church of Harlem, while The Second Collegiate Reformed Church of Harlem was organized to additionally serve the burgeoning population.  On December 20, 1884, ten lots on the corner of Sixth Avenue (renamed Lenox Avenue in 1887) and 123rd Street were purchased for $65,000--about $1.6 million today.

Things moved rapidly.  Ground was broken on April 26, 1885 and the cornerstone laid on June 24.  The structure was completed in September 1886.  Although architect John R. Thomas's plans projected the construction costs at $60,000, The Treasury quoted the final cost at a staggering $215,000.

John Rochester Thomas was also drawing plans for the Harlem Methodist Episcopal Church on West 136th Street while working on Second Collegiate.  For the Lenox Avenue congregation he produced a Gothic Revival structure of undressed Ohio sandstone.  Massive gables faced the avenue and the side street, dominated by Gothic arches.  The slate-tiled roof changed directions and angles creating a mountainscape of gables.  The entrances were flanked by engaged towers that pointed upward, minaret-like, on either side of the gable.  But it was the corner bell tower that monopolized attention.

The tower rose to a carillon that sat just above highest point of the roof line.  A slender stone steeple continued until the feature was twice the height of the church proper.  The needle-like steeple was topped by a Gothic crocket.

A vintage postcard reveals a very quiet Lenox Avenue. (copyright expired)

The membership of 150 and their first minister, the Rev. George Hutchington Smyth, were transplanted from First Collegiate.  The Low Dutch Reformed Church, however, had greater expectations.  The new building had a seating capacity of 1,100.

The Lenox Avenue edifice was dedicated on September 30, 1886, two hundred years to the day after the stone building that had replaced the log cabin was dedicated.  The Reformed Low Dutch Church History called it in 1910, "a striking coincidence."

By 1891, the congregation was deemed by The Sun as "one of the richest congregations in Harlem."  But all was not tranquil within.  That spring Rev. Smyth was disturbed by reports that his members were displeased with him.  He asked a group of pastors of the Reformed churches to "examine into the differences between himself and his people."

Their findings were astonishing.  Members were questioned, and they said "he was a great caller and visited three times a year members of the church, and that his views were broad, so that the young people could not complain.  Socially he was all that could be wished for."  And the membership had not fallen off.  So what was the problem?

The New York Times reported, "His preaching did not please all, and as he is over fifty years old members of the church began to think that a younger man might be more efficient in strengthening the church in the growing field on the west side of Harlem."  But no one could point out a specific problem.  "The church had simply felt that it was better to have a new pastor."

Rev. Smyth was considered too old.  The Reformed Low Dutch Church History, 1910 (copyright expired)

On September 28, 1891, The Sun reported, "The Rev. G Hutchington Smyth, D. D., of the Second Reformed Collegiate Church...preached his farewell sermon yesterday."

Smyth was replaced by the Rev. Dr. William Justin Harsha who was lured from Omaha, Nebraska.  His installation was held on October 20, 1892.  The New York Times remarked, "A pleasant feature of the services was the singing of a hymn the words of which were written by Dr. Harsha."  The congregation's claims that they needed a younger preacher did not hold water, considering that Harsha was 68 years old--13 years older than Smyth.

During those pleasant ceremonies no one could predict that, like his predecessor, the congregation's love affair with Harsha would not last.

Rev. Dr. William Justin Harsha - The Reformed Low Dutch Church History, 1910 (copyright expired)

Although the building was just eight years old, John R. Thomas was called back in June 1894 to remodel his Second Collegiate Reformed Church.  And these were no small changes.  His plans--costing $35,000--called for new "slate roofing, stained glass, concrete and pine floors, hardwood finish, structure ironwork and church furniture."

The expensive renovations came at a surprising time.  The Financial Panic of 1893 was a devastating depression and unemployment had reached 12 percent nationwide.  Although his congregation seems to have been financially more secure than the average New Yorkers, Rev. Harsha addressed the gloomy conditions in his sermon on September 20, 1896.

"We should be in an attitude of hope," he said in part.  "Things are bound to improve.  I have faith in the soundness at heart of the American people."  He concluded "Storm always clears the sky."

A sermon on March 21, 1897, was a bit more controversial, at least by a 21st century viewpoint.  A theological movement had emerged that suggested some stories in the Old Testament were allegorical--Jonah and the whale, and the Garden of Eden, for instance.  Harsha asserted that "Jesus regarded the whole Old Testament as the Word of His Father."  Therefore, the stories were true.

"Eden is presented as a real garden, the first pair as genuine flesh and blood, and the whole account claims to be sober history.  The only fair and safe course is to take the record just as it stands, and not try to explain it away as an allegory."

Rev. Harsha's earlier sermon which promised that "Storm always clears the sky" did not, as it developed, apply to him personally.  Before coming to New York, he had invested in a religious publishing house.  Around 1896, the business failed, leaving the minister with a crippling debt of $40,000.

The Second Collegiate Reformed Church paid its pastor $5,000 per year, a satisfying $147,000 today.  He arranged to have $2,000 of that turned over to a receiver to pay down the debt.  By the end of 1899, he had managed to pay off about $12,000.

When the embarrassing situation reached the newspapers, the congregation of the Second Collegiate Reformed Church, seemingly forgetting their Christian teachings, forced the 76-year old to resign.  On December 18, 1899, the New-York Tribune reported that the disgraced Dr. Harsha was "in Texas or the Indian Territory, preparing to engage in missionary work among the Indians, and that his family are visiting relatives in Massachusetts."

Rev. William Harsha's replacement, the Rev. Edgar Tilton, Jr., was installed on February 4, 1900.  The New-York Tribune described him as "a young man" who was "well-known to his new charge."  Tilton received a significant honor later that year, in November, when he was selected as chaplain of the 71st Regiment.

The congregation finally got its young pastor in Rev. Edgar Tilton Jr. New-York Tribune, November 18, 1900 (copyright expired)

As Rev. Harsha had done, Tilton embarked on massive renovations to the church building.  On June 8, 1901, the renowned architectural firm of Renwick, Aspinwall & Owen filed plans to "raise walls and general alterations."  The brief description hardly explained the massive scope of the project.

The organ was removed and the sanctuary closed for the summer (a good time for construction since well-to-do families were off to their country homes or resorts).  The Reformed Low Dutch Church of Harlem said, "The wall back of the pulpit was removed, an arch constructed, and iron pillars placed in the small chapel to support a gallery for the organ...and the whole interior decorated.  The cost of this improvement was about $12,000."

The remodeled church was opened and rededicated on November 3, 1901.  The New-York Tribune reported, "New exits at the west end of the galleries have been put in, and the whole interior has been decorated and refurnished.  The seating capacity has been increased about one-eighth."

The 1901 renovations included, among other things, the large arch and the organ loft.  The Reformed Low Dutch Church History, 1910 (copyright expired)

The remodeling was quickly followed by a series of gifts in the form of new stained glass.  Windows honoring the memory of children were installed over the south gallery, given by the Kindergarten department of the Bible School.  The were soon followed by two more windows in memory of deceased children, these over the east gallery.  Unveiled on June 8, 1902 (Children's Day), one, The Boy Jesus in the Temple, was donated by Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin F. Mills in memory of their 13 year old son Samuel Fairchild Mills, who died in June 1900.  The other, Christ Blessing the Children, was given by Mr. and Mrs. Eugene S. Hand in memory of Lilian May Hand, who died in August 1894 at the age of 15.

One by one other windows were donated and installed, until the final two, the Walk to Emmaus and The Light of the World, were unveiled on Easter Sunday, 1910.  That year was momentous for another reason.  The Low Dutch Reformed Church celebrated its 250th anniversary in November the events would continue for weeks.

Christian Intelligence described the sanctuary decorations on November 30, when Dr. Tilton "gave a historical address."  The magazine said, "The old Dutch flags emblematic of our ancestry, the Stars and Stripes, significant of preservation in the past and continued protection in the future, and the glowing figures 1660 and 1910, blazing forth from the pulpit of the Lenox avenue Church, which was flanked with palms, the presence of the old bell cast in Holland in 1734 especially for the old Dutch Church of Harlem--all being so suggestive of a gala time resulting from a glorious history, added to the impressiveness of the services."
 

The 18th century bell sits in the flag-draped chancel for the 1910 anniversary services.  The Reformed Low Dutch Church History, 1910 (copyright expired)

At the time, the demographics of Harlem were changing as black residents relocated from downtown.  The Second Collegiate Reformed Church remained in the Lenox Avenue building until 1929, when it somewhat surprisingly moved downtown to East 89th Street.

The congregation leased the church to the Second Harlem Seventh-Day Adventist congregation, lead by Michael C. Strachan who was called from Florida to be pastor of the 108-member congregation.  Formed in 1924, it changed its name to the Ephesus Seventh-Day Adventist Church in 1930 when it moved into the Lenox Avenue building.  Nine years later the congregation purchased the structure from the Reformed Low Dutch Church of Harlem.

Among the congregants were civil rights activist John Byard and his wife.  When Lucille Byard became ill in 1944 John thought it best to take her by train to Washington DC for treatment at the Washington Sanitarium (now the Washington Adventist Hospital).  He phoned ahead to ensure that arrangements would be made.

When the couple arrived, the staff was shocked to see that their patient was black.  John was pulled aside and told that the Sanitarium was for whites only.  His wife could not receive treatment.

By the time Byard could find another hospital that would admit Lucille, it was too late.  She died in Freedman's Hospital a few days later.

News of Lucille Byard's death traveled nationwide among black Adventists and civil rights advocates, evoking well-deserved outrage.  Hundreds of mourners crammed Ephesus Seventh-Day Adventist Church for her funeral and 13 ministers delivered eulogies.

By 1945, the membership had swollen to more than 1,000.   Disaster struck on January 9, 1969 when fire broke out in the upper portions of the Youth Chapel.  The sanctuary was gutted and, despite the fire captain cautioning his men, "Don't destroy the windows!" several were lost.  The steeple, iconic to the building, was so weakened by the heat that 30 feet had to be removed to prevent collapse.

The nearly decade-long rebuilding cost $2.3 million.  The renovated church was reopened in 1978, with a still-stumpy steeple.

In the meantime, the importance of Ephesus Seventh-Day Adventist Church in the community was somewhat symbolized in 1975 when Walter J. Turnbull organized the church's boys choir.  The group would become known as the Boys Choir of Harlem and would perform in venues throughout Europe and in prestigious American concert spaces like Avery Fisher Hall.

Finally, on December 11, 2006, the steeple regained its full height.  A copper-and-steel replacement, coated in lead, was fitted over the stone stump.  And happily, although the replacement was in metal rather than stone, the decorative crocket was reproduced.

photographs by the author

The Edward Roberts Mansion - No. 241 Lenox Avenue

 

On May 21, 1887 The Record & Guide drew readers' attention to "The Transformation of a Beautiful District."  The article described the lightning-fast development of the Harlem area near what was called Mount Morris Square.  Within the past three years, the writer said, "regions that were bare enough to raise crops upon have become the site of many handsome and costly buildings."

Among those transforming the district was architect-developer A. B. Van Dusen.  At the time of the article he had filled half the western block front of Sixth Avenue (renamed Lenox Avenue later that year) between 121st and 122nd Street; and the entire blockfront between 122nd and 123rd, with rowhouses.  The Record & Guide called the residences "tasteful and substantial."

Most "substantial" of the long row was No. 241, at the northwest corner of West 122nd Street.  Looking like a super-sized version of its otherwise nearly identical neighbors, it boasted the mansion-width of 25 feet.  Faced in brownstone on the avenue and ruddy red brick on the side elevation, it rose above the row because of the exceptional ceiling heights inside.  Van Dusen's up-to-the-minute design was transitional--melding neo-Grec with the newly-appearing Renaissance Revival styles.

The expensive exceptions that set the house apart from the row suggest that Edward Roberts had purchased the residence before Van Dusen had put pen to paper, and gave input on amenities.  Exposed on three sides--affording a luxurious abundance of air and light--its carved architrave window surrounds did not diminish on the upper floors.  Their prim cornices, tiered sills, and foliate brackets were continued on the 122nd Street side.

The stately Renaissance Revival portico featured Corinthian columns on paneled pedestals and an elaborately-carved entablature.  Handsome iron fencing protected the deep light moat that girded the English basement level.

Even the stone fence post is carved with Renaissance Revival panels.

Edward Roberts was born on March 23, 1812 and had an impressive military pedigree.  His great-grandfather, John Roberts, earned prominence in the French and Indian War; his grandfather, Christopher Roberts, had served in the Revolution; and his father was Major General Martin Roberts.

Until 1841, when he arrived in New York City, Roberts had traveled, studied and taught school.  His proficiency in Greek, Latin and Hebrew drew repeated offers for professorships, all of which he declined.   The year before arriving in New York he married Lucy Maria Benjamin.  The couple had three children before Lucy's untimely death in 1845.


In 1848 he married Irene Bartlett Robinson, and they had another five children.  Like her husband, Irene had an imposing family history.  She was descended from John Robinson, who arrived in Massachusetts in 1636.  His son married the great granddaughter of John Alden and Priscilla Mullen.  Another relative, Josiah Bartlett, was a signer of the Declaration of Independence.

Shortly after coming to New York Roberts helped found Roberts, Cushman & Co.  The firm manufactured "hat materials," like hat bands, mechanical hat size rulers, and trimmings.  As successful as the firm was, The New York Times later noted that he "amassed a fortune in real estate."

Just three years after moving into the mansion, in 1890, Roberts was diagnosed with cancer.  In April 1891 his condition had deteriorated to the point that he was bedridden.  Two weeks later, on May 3, he died.

Irene was involved with the New-York Indian Association; a reform group organized following the Civil War.  Its founding was spurred by the western migration of settlers and the corruption in the Indian Service (now the Bureau of Indian Affairs).  The goals of the group were, foremost, to convert Native Americans to Christianity, to grant them citizenship, and to do away with the reservation system.

On April 16, 1895 she opened the Lenox Avenue house for a reception and sale for the benefit of the New-York Indian Association.  The drawing rooms were filled that afternoon with the wives of wealthy New York businessmen.

Irene suffered a fatal heart attack on Monday, March 7, 1897.  Her funeral was held in the house three days later.

The Roberts family retained ownership of the mansion, but never again would it be a private home.  The well-to-do families moving into the Harlem neighborhood brought with them the need for upscale stores, handsome churches and private schools.  Mary Schoonmaker leased the Roberts house for her New York Collegiate Institute.

Schoonmaker had established the private girls' school in 1888.  The Handbook of Private Schools explained it provided "courses from kindergarten through college preparatory and finishing work."  Also advertised as Miss Mary Schoonmaker's School for Girls, its graduates were from socially-elite families.  A mention in Harper's Magazine in 1899 noted "Certificate admits to Smith, Vassar, Wells, Wellesley."

The New York Times reported on May 7 that year that "An exhibit of school work was given yesterday by the pupils of the New York Collegiate Institute in the school building, at 241 Lenox Avenue...The manual training work was much admired by the visitors, especially that of the classes in history and art.  The paper work and clay modeling of the kindergarten classes also excited interest."

Mary Schoonmaker apparently made a brief trial of admitting boys.  An advertisement in the New-York Tribune on August 28, 1910 read "Boys prepared for the Colleges and Scientific Schools.  Well-equipped Gymnasium."

But the experiment did not last.  On April 19, 1913, when the students gave their annual exhibit of school work, the facility was once again called Miss Mary Schoonmaker's School for Girls.  Students read their literary compositions to what The Sun called a "large audience."  Among the titles of the essays read that day was Marjorie Page's "How We Went a-Frogging," Eleanor Hope's "Cleaning My Room," and Elizabeth I. Lyons's "Racketty Packetty House."

Before the fall session that year Mary Schoonmaker moved the school to No. 345 West End Avenue.  In October the Roberts family leased the house to the Finnish Women's Co-Operative Home.  New York had seen the advent of working women's residence hotels; but this one was starkly different.

Founded by Finnish servants around 1908, it was described as "really a working girls' club."  The women, mostly domestic maids and cooks, paid $5 a year to become a shareholder.  Those who did not live with their employers lived here.  Elene Foster, writing in the New-York Tribune on November 3, 1918, described the larger upper floor rooms as "fitted up with a row of small white iron beds like a dormitory, while the smaller ones are rented as single rooms."

Girls using the dormitory accommodations paid $7 for room and board.  Single rooms went for $8.50.  Foster said "The meals are excellent, and any shareholder has the privilege of inviting guests of either sex to luncheon or dinner by paying a nominal sum."

Unlike other working girls' residents, which had strict regulations, the Finnish Women's Co-Operative Home was operated on an honor system.  "There are no rules to be observed in the home except those which any girl of decent inclinations or education would naturally observe," said Foster.  "The house is never closed and girls are admitted at any hour."

The dining room and kitchen were in the basement.  Irene Roberts's front parlor was used as an employment bureau; while the back parlor was communal lounge.  Here was where "the girls receive their men friends and where they can meet in the afternoon for a cup of coffee and the dainty Finnish wafers, which, according to the old home custom, are served at 3:30."

Although the Roberts estate sold the house in September 1921 (the buyer announcing he planned "extensive alterations"), the Finnish Women's Co-Operative stayed on through the term of its lease.  It was still here on June 23, 1922 when an advertisement appeared in The New York Herald:  "GIRLS--Two Finnish girls desire positions together in country.  241 Lenox av."

By now Harlem in general saw a shift in demographics as whites were replaced by blacks.  But the neighborhood around 122nd Street and Lenox Avenue was, perhaps surprisingly, still one of mostly middle-class whites.  In 1923 the renovations to No. 241 were completed, resulting in a doctor's office on the parlor level, a store in the basement, and a single family home on the upper floors.

Around the time of the Great Depression and area saw its further transition to a black neighborhood.  By 1930 Edna Mattke was running a rooming house here, while David Reich's Chapel, a funeral home, operated on the parlor level.

Despite the disastrous Stock Market Crash, Edna was persuaded by an elderly roomer to let her invest $300 in stocks on September 9, 1930.  Marion La Touche, who was 85-years old and described as a "slim, faded" woman, let her in on "confidential information" from a "high authority in Wall Street."  She promised Edna that Republic Steel stock was "the best on the market" would gain "5 to 6 points daily."

The old woman's knowledge and her grandmotherly demeanor not only convinced Edna, but ten female neighbors.  Marion La Touche did buy stocks with the several thousand dollars she collected; but she kept them for herself and disappeared.

What Edna and her neighbors did not know was that Marion had a rap sheet that extended back to March 1884 when she had been sentenced to Welfare Island for grand larceny.  Police records showed that in the past 47 years she had been arrested nine times on theft charges and had served several prison terms under various names.

Edna Mattke was running her rooming house at No. 241 Lenox Avenue (left) when this photo was taken on July 28, 1932.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Edna Mattke had the old woman tracked down and arrested.  The two faced each other in court on August 6, 1931.  Relying on her innocent appearance, La Touche appeared in a "drab black dress" and answered examination "in faint, measured words," according to The Times, with the dexterity of a politician.

When District Attorney Charles Pilatsky asked if it were true that she had been incarcerated in 1884, she replied "You're asking me something that happened so long ago I don't remember."  When pushed, she outright lied, insisting she had not been imprisoned and this was "the first time I've been on a witness stand in my life."

The jury indicted La Touche on second degree grand larceny on August 19; but officials now grappled with the elderly woman's fate.  State Law mandated that because of her repeated offenses a conviction would bring a mandatory life term in prison.

Staff Captain Agnes H. McKernan of the Salvation Army heard of the case and offered "to provide a home for her to remove her from temptation," reported The Times on September 1.  Judge Donnellan took pity and allowed her to plead guilty to a misdemeanor.  She was sentenced to six months to three years; but the judge suspended the sentence based on the Salvation Army's promised to house her for life "in the proper environment."

The funeral home (it became Steinfeld's Chapel around 1933) remained for years.  And the upper floors were rented as furnished rooms through the rest of the century.  The elegant rooms where the Roberts family had lived now saw tenants come and go often on a weekly basis.

Then in 2008 plans for a residential conversion were filed.  The extraordinarily sympathetic restoration and renovation was completed in 2014.  Above the basement and parlor floor commercial spaces, there are now just one spacious condominium apartment per floor.

Astoundingly, the ornate Eastlake-style woodwork, including the original shutters that fold back into the walls, survive intact.  photo by Oxford Property Group via realtor.com

photographs by the author

Church of the Holy Trinity (St. Martin's Church) - 230 Lenox Avenue

The Lenox Avenue neighborhood above 120th street was one of wealthy professionals in 1888.  Comfortable homes, some worthy to be called mansions, had made this section of Harlem a new upscale suburb.

On May 21 that year The New York Times reported on the ongoing construction of the Episcopalian Holy Trinity Church, at the southeast corner of Lenox Avenue and 122nd Street.  "When completed," the article promised, "this will be a handsome and spacious religious edifice, the material used being Worchester granite and Long Meadow sandstone.  This combination of stone and colors, a reddish hue with the hue of the dove, was a favorite one, it is said, with the architect Richardson."

That Richardson was Henry Hobson Richardson, whose beefy take on Romanesque Revival earned the name Richardsonian Romanesque.  The Times critic was well founded in mentioning him.  After the church's completion, the Real Estate Record & Guide noted "Most observers of the new church will be impressed by its likeness to the works of the late Mr. Richardson, though this is nowhere an imitation."

The architect was William Appleton Potter and his choice of styles was not surprising.  For years he had been supervising architect for the United States Treasury--a post he held until 1877.  He produced civic structures like courthouses, post office buildings and custom houses; and formed a partnership with Robert Henderson Robertson, Potter & Robertson, in 1875.  Robertson was highly influenced by Richardson and his name, too, would be linked to the Romanesque Revival style.

By now Potter had been on his own for seven years.  His Church of the Holy Trinity, completed in 1889, reflected his past works; a masterful design of chunky, undressed blocks; rounded arches; contrasting hues and a dominating bell tower.  While the Record & Guide had asserted it was in no way an imitation of Richardson, it could not help pointing out the similarities.

In describing Potter's "triplets of round arches," the Guide said it "was a favorite feature of Mr. Richardson's."  And regarding the materials--red tile for the roof, red granite as the main material, with "rich brown sandstone" for the trim--the article added "This combination was one of Mr. Richardson's happiest introductions."

Nevertheless, the architect was given his just recognition; several of the elements being termed "novel" and almost all described as "successful."  And both adjectives were used in describing the inside:  "The interior of the church is quite as successful as the exterior, and has much more of the interest of novelty."  The writer explained that the "novelty" was important because it "comes not of an attempt to do something new, but ensues from the effort to meet requirements in some respects novel in the most straightforward way."

Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, October 12, 1889 (copyright expired)

The pews and other furniture were of oak, matched  in the paneling over African marble wainscoting in the chancel.  Potter had commissioned Louis C. Tiffany to decorate the space.  The Record & Guide described "Mr. Tiffany's decoration" as "deep in tone and of a sombre richness.  The richness of the interior has been very judiciously concentrated upon the apse."  The seating area, 90 feet square, church accommodated more than 1,200 worshipers.

The Church of the Holy Trinity was among the first major congregations in the area.  It was organized in 1868 by the Rev. William N. McVickar, when, according to the New-York Tribune later, "that part of the city was taking on active life."  Its first building was erected in 1870 on Fifth Avenue and 125th Street.   King's Handbook of New York City explained in 1892 that it "has enjoyed a continually increasing measure of prosperity, culminating in the present beautiful edifice, and a communicant list of nearly 1,000."

The construction of the magnificent structure brought with it enormous cost.  It would be years before the congregation would pay off its $210,500 debt--an amount equal to nearly $5.6 million today.

Among the congregants was Civil War hero Major General Abram Duryee.  Duryee saw action in the battles of Bull Run, Antietam, and Cedar Mountain, among others.  His service was recognized by Presidents Abraham Lincoln and Andrew Johnson.

Following the war, in 1873, he was New York City Police Commissioner.  It was during his tenure that the police were called out to quell a labor protest in Tompkins Square Park on January 13, 1874.  They attacked the crowd with batons and mounted police charges.  Surprised and defenseless, many were injured and dozens arrested.  The New York Committee for Safety, which had organized the protest, condemned Duryee for having "charged his police upon inoffensive workingmen like so many 'bulldogs.'"

Duyree's response was cold.  According to Richard Hofstadter and Michael Wallace in the 1970 book American Violence, he said "It was the most glorious sight I ever saw the way the police broke and drove the crowd. Their order was perfect as they charged with their clubs uplifted."

When Abram Duryee died at the age of 76 on on September 27, 1890 at his nearby home on 126th Street, New Yorkers preferred to remember his wartime accomplishments.  His funeral in the Church of the Holy Trinity on September 29 was conducted with full military honors.  The Evening World provided a list of the esteemed pall-bearers: including among others General H. T. Tremain, General Hiram Duyrea, General Philip F. Viele, and Colonel Daniel Appleton.  The New York Times remarked that the military attendance of at the funeral was "almost without precedent on any similar occasion."

As with most churches, many of the stained class windows were installed later; gifts of congregants.  One of the most impressive was that donated by Leander H. Crall in memory of his wife.  Designed by Francis Lathrop, who had created the windows and chancel decorations for St. Bartholomew's Church, it was 23 feet high and 7 feet wide.  Depicting "The Adoration of the Magi," it contained 13 life-size figures and was unveiled during Christmas Eve services in 1899.   The critic for The New York Times deemed it "the most satisfactory, and, in some ways, the most artistic that he has yet produced."   He added that the window was "remarkably fine" chiefly due to the "devotional spirit which Mr. Lathrop has breathed into his work, and which is rare in any art work of this material and unpoetic age."

"The Adoration of the Magi" was the center of the three large windows.

As New York City grappled with the push for legalization of alcohol on Sundays, the Rev. Dr. H. P. Nichols chimed in from the pulpit on February 2, 1902 with a surprisingly open-minded attitude.  He pointed out that the Sabbath was reserved for worship and leisure.   But some for some people, leisure included drinking beer; and their only opportunity to do so in those days of six-day work weeks was on Sunday.  The legislation of morals, he proclaimed, was a slippery slope and quoted the Archbishop of York who said "I would rather have England free than England sober."

The contrast of granite and brownstone is seen in this photograph taken by Thaddeus Wilkerson around the time of the church's consecration.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

It was not until New Year's Day 1910 that the church was finally debt-free and, therefore, could be consecrated.  An anonymous check for $35,498 found in the collection plate on Thanksgiving Day had wiped out the congregation's debts.

In 1923 a new organ costing $35,000 was installed.  At the time the demographics of the Harlem neighborhood had been changing for years as black residents replaced white.  Those changes would come to the Church of the Holy Trinity only after a devastating fire nearly destroyed the building.

Around 7 a.m. on April 15, 1925 a passing motorist noticed smoke coming from the windows.  Before long the fire had grown to what The New York Times described as "the most spectacular blaze Harlem has had in years."  Four fire companies responded and battled the flames for three hours.  "The firemen had scarcely started to get inside when the groaning of roof timbers caused them to run for shelter under the stone pillars on the west side of the church.  In a few seconds the roof collapsed."

Thousands crammed Lenox Avenue to watch the horrifying inferno.  When it was finally extinguished The Times wrote "The tower and a mere shell of blackened stone walls are all that remain of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the Holy Trinity."  The organ, the stained glass windows, "said to be art treasures," the bronze and marble baptismal font, the work of Paul Winters Morris--essentially everything inside--were destroyed.

Potter made repeated use of Richardson's "triplets of round arches."

The congregation never returned.  Three years later, on January 15, 1928, the superintendent of the New York Protestant Episcopal City Mission Society, the Rev. Dr. L. Ernest Sunderland announced plans to "rebuild and refurnish" the burned-out building.

The $150,000 project would "make it a social and religious centre for the negroes of Harlem."  The Society announced "The structure, which was badly damaged by fire several years ago, will be renamed St. Martin's Church."  Dr. Sunderland stressed the importance of revitalizing the church, saying that Harlem "is the battleground of good and evil in the negro life of America."

The renovations were completed by summer; but it was not until June 5, 1932 that the church was officially dedicated.  Bishop William T. Manning conducted the services.  The formal name of the edifice sounds shockingly racist to 21st century minds: the Protest Episcopal Church of St. Martin for Negroes."

In his remarks Manning attempted to prove he was racially unprejudiced; with remarkable failure at least by today's viewpoint.   His comments about "my own close association with your race" were the near-equivalent of "some of my best friends are black."  He insisted "It is a fact, as many of you know, that the first two babies I ever baptized were colored babies; the first church building I consecrated was for colored people, the first parish house I dedicated was for colored people, the first class I confirmed after I was made Bishop was a class of colored people."

Seven years after the dedication fire devastated the building again.  A five-alarm blaze on January 19, 1939 resulted, once again, in only the outer walls standing.  The damaged was estimated at a quarter of a million dollars, more than $4.25 million by today's standards.

The congregation was determined to rebuild.  Included in the reconstruction was the replacement of the carillon.  It was executed by the Royal Eijsbouts foundry in Asten, the Netherlands, and installed in 1949.  (When the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris celebrated its 850th anniversary in 2014, it called on the Royal Eijsbouts foundry to recast its largest bell, the 6-ton "Marie.")

The Church of St. Martin continues to serve its neighborhood.   It also operates The Little Theatre to train young residents in dance and the arts.  Although covered in decades of grim, William A. Potter's masterful Romanesque Revival structure miraculously survives after two near misses with destruction.

photographs by the author

The Harlem Club - Lenox Avenue and 123rd Street

On June 22, 1889, as the Harlem Club's new headquarters was nearing completion at the southwest corner of Lenox Avenue and 123rd Street, the Record & Guide opined, "In composition and in detail we scarcely know of a more creditable recent building."  It could also have been described as imposing.

Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, June 22, 1889 (copyright expired)

Well-to-do Victorian gentlemen were expected to hold at least one membership in a high-end social club.  As Harlem evolved into a vibrant suburb, its new residents found themselves inconveniently far from the club district, which was around 75 blocks to the south.  In 1879, "some of the most prominent gentlemen who reside in the upper part of the City," as described by The New York Times, formed the Irving Club of New-York, and in 1881 acquired an existing residence on Fifth Avenue near West 127th Street for its clubhouse.  The New-York Tribune later explained, "There were clubs and meeting places in the Harlem district at that time, but they lacked the qualities of the good clubs in the lower part of the city." 

Five years later, the name was changed to the Harlem Club.  Its membership, which had risen to 100 by now, was composed, according to a newspaper, "principally of bankers, brokers, lawyers, and merchants."  The Harlem Club listed as its purpose, "to cultivate friendly and social intercourse among its members, and to further and advance by means of concentrated action, matters of public welfare in the upper section of the City."

By 1888, the membership had more than tripled to 340 and, according to the New-York Tribune, the clubhouse "was too small and not attractive, and offered few club features for the younger element."  A committee was formed on January 14 that year to consider a more commodious and impressive clubhouse.

On September 8, 1888, The American Architect and Building News published an understated, one-line announcement that architects Lamb & Rich had completed plans for a four-story "brick club-house" with a projected cost of $50,000.

A terra cotta sunburst decorates the blind arch and delightful stone leaves parade along the upper frieze.  The Record & Guide described the black tiles as "japanned." 

Now, nine months later, the Record & Guide assessed the completed structure.  Hugh Lamb and Charles Alonzo Rich had created a hulking Romanesque Revival structure of brick and stone, with touches of Queen Anne.  The critic could find little to criticize, saying for instance, "Over each wing is a dormer in metal, of rather fantastic but effective design, relieved against the steep roof of dark japanned tiles..." and noting, "The gabled roof would have been uncouthly large if it had occupied the whole width of the central division.  The awkwardness is happily got over by the clever and effective introduction of a broad chimney on each side."

The actual costs, including the expensive furnishings, draperies, carpeting and such, had risen to $150,000--nearly $3.9 million in 2017.  On June 14, 1889, The New York Times reported, "The house is equipped in the latest style.  In the basement are bowling alleys and kitchens; on the first floor parlors and a library; on the second floor billiard rooms and a cafe; and on the third and fourth floors three private dining rooms and ten chambers."  The "chambers" were sleeping rooms.  Not only did out of town members need a place to stay, but so would those briefly in town on business from their summer residences.   The room, said the newspaper "are furnished in a manner that leaves nothing to be desired."

A long balcony, now lost, graced the second floor and stocky iron lampposts flanked the entrance.  photo via harlembespoke.blogspot.com

The New-York Tribune was more detailed, describing the first floor as having "a handsome reception room, a large drawing room, and back of these a cosey reading room with great easy chairs and comfortable lounges and handsome wall decorations.  In the hall stands a great stuffed bear, which was killed by the Grand Duke Alexis of Russia when he hunted big game with Buffalo Bill."

An antique tall case clock graced the entrance hall (above).  Masculine oak furniture in the library complimented the mantelpiece.   New-York Tribune, February 2, 1902 (copyright expired)

The Harlem Club opened its new clubhouse on June 13, 1889 with a reception for men-only.  It would be another six months before women would get a peek inside.  On December 13, The New York Times reported that the previous evening, "the wives and daughters and sisters of its members had their first chance to inspect the beauties of the new domain of their male relatives."

Although women's visits were restricted, a delicately-furnished Ladies Parlor accommodated them.  New-York Tribune, February 2, 1902 (copyright expired)

Plants and flowers softened the decidedly masculine atmosphere for the event.  "The building was prettily decorated with palms, roses, and flowering plants, and a band played in a floral bower in the reading room."  Oddly enough, despite the spacious dining rooms, the guests ate in the basement.  "Dancing went on for the younger folks in the drawing rooms, and supper was served by Steward Marsich on small tables arrange in the bowling alleys."

The Billiard Room was outfitted with five tables. New-York Tribune, February 2, 1902 (copyright expired)

Like its downtown counterparts, the exclusivity of the Harlem Club was not limited to wealth and family, but to religion.  On July 10, 1889, The New York Times wrote, "The Harlem Club, which recently moved into its handsome and costly new house...is disturbed by the raising of the Hebrew question."

The issue went back to the June 13 opening, at which Senator Jacob A. Cantor was a guest of George McGown.  Banker Robert Bonynge proposed him as a member that night.  Later another member approached the senator and said, "Jake, I have known you for a long time, and I am a friend of yours, but I must tell you that in this club we draw the line at Hebrews."

Understandably insulted, Cantor went to Bonynge and offered to withdraw his name.  But, explained The New York Times, "that gentleman and the other friends of the Senator had their blood up and said the Senator's name should stand and be passed on if it took all Summer."

The issue, indeed, simmered throughout all summer, and in the end the senator was not admitted.  A reporter who spoke to Cantor during the drawn-out process noted, "he was satisfied to know that if it did reject him, it would do so on account of his race and not on personal grounds."

The ugly and bigoted affair would stain the Harlem Club for the rest of its existence.

An early postcard depicted a nearly deserted Lenox Avenue. (copyright expired)

In the meantime, the clubhouse was the scene of "smokers, euchres, and concerts," among other events.  An annual exhibition of works by American artists was held here, and musical entertainments were common.  In January 1903, for instance, 200 hundred members and guests heard soloists perform operatic arias, after which supper was served in the dining rooms, and dancing went on until 1:30 in the morning.

During the 1904 Presidential campaign two members got into a heated political debate.  James O'Reilly insisted that Judge Alton B. Parker, the Democratic candidate, would beat Theodore Roosevelt in the election.  Herman J. Elkhoff was equally confident in his choice.  Their argument resulted in a bet, the conditions of which were "that the loser swim across the East River some time during the month following election day."

Parker lost the election and O'Reilly lost the bet.  True to his word, on Sunday morning November 10 he plunged into the river and swam to Randall's Island and back.  O'Reilly was physically prepared for the challenging feat.  The Evening World said, "he takes a plunge in the river every morning during the winter."  The apparently out-of-shape Elkhoff, on the other hand, was lucky his candidate had won.  Other members confided that he "was taking a desperate chance" with his bet.

Modern Harlem historians are wont to blame the decline of the Harlem Club on its anti-Semitic policies.  In fact, while the stigma of the Cantor affair hung on, it was more likely finances that brought the club down.  Suit was filed against the club on June 19, 1906, "to foreclose a mortgage of $60,000 on the club's property."  That was the original July 12, 1889 mortgage; a second mortgage of $52,779 brought the liabilities to more than $3 million in today's dollars.

In October a Supreme Court judge ordered the building to be sold at auction on January 31, 1907.  Two days before the sale, The New York Times wrote, "After nearly thirty years of active life, during which it came to be known as the first club of Harlem, the Harlem Club is about to be dissolved.  Upon the two iron lamps which stand on either side of the front steps of the handsome building...are glaring yellow posters announcing in large type that by order of the Supreme Court the clubhouse and its furnishings will be sold out at auction."

The clubhouse was purchased by developer William A. Martin.  He resold it within the month to the Eastman Business College of Poughkeepsie.  Established in 1859 by Harvey Gridley Eastman, the school readied young men for clerical business work.  Included in the curriculum were "Civil service, shorthand, typewriting, telegraph, penmanship and correspondence."

The new Manhattan branch was called the Eastman New York Business Institute, and an advertisement boasted that it was housed in "one of the most attractive structures in the most aristocratic neighborhood of Upper New York."

The school remained in the building until 1935, when it fell victim to the Great Depression and changing demographics.  Reportedly it refused to admit black students--a major problem in a neighborhood that was now significantly black.

The building was taken over as the Unity Mission Church, the headquarters for the charismatic if questionable "Father" Major Jealous Divine.  The leader of what at least one newspaper called "a Negro cult," Divine had made a name for himself by conducting revival meetings, curing the sick, and declaring himself a deity.  Telling his followers that he had been born a fully-formed adult, he amassed a following of tens of thousands.

The progress of the 4-foot, 6-inch leader was closely followed by law enforcement.  By 1933 he had "kingdoms" in Manhattan, Newark, Baltimore, Washington DC, Bridgeport and other cities.  A 38-page typewritten report ordered by Common Pleas Judge Richard Hartshorne that year credited Divine with "some socially helpful results."   But it also noted, according to a New York Times report, he "has equipped himself with an airplane, automobiles, several secretaries and a large staff of employes in his headquarters and 'kingdoms' in New York City" and that "his followers, including many whites, did in fact worship him as God."

Adherents to Father Divine turned over all their possessions to the Kingdom, earning them the status of angel.  The angels then took on a heavenly name--such as Lovely, or Kind.  The process caused endless problems, from followers trying to file tax reports under their unregistered new names; to husbands suing Father Divine for alienation of affection.

One case was that of chauffeur and oboe player Carl Davenport, who sued for $100,000.  He testified that he and his wife Alice, had been happily married until February 1933 when she was "subjected to public and private exhortation by Father Divine and his servants and employees."  Alice walked out on Carl and their eight children.

Her actions were mirrored by Madeline Green two years later.  She left her husband, Samuel N. Green, Jr., a postal clerk, and their seven children (aged 3 through 14).   Samuel filed a petition alleging that when she had abandoned them, she said the children should be sent to an orphan asylum.  She explained to the Children's Court judge "I have no more children.  The life I lead is one of sacrifice.  All belongs to God now."

When Judge Levy asked "How can you give up seven children and say you lead a Christ-like life?" she responded flatly "Because I see the light.  I am out of darkness."

A "children's dinner" in Unity Mission Church.  photo via libertynet.org

Father Divine's magnetism did not affect everyone.  Washington DC pastor Rev. Dr. Walter H. Brooks, a son of slaves, was asked about Divine's movement in April 1935.  "People like to be humbugged," was his curt reply.

Despite his constant legal battles (he was accused of having a harem, engaging in outrageous sexual activities, and illegally housing minors), Father Divine continued to lead throngs--his meetings drew tens of thousands of followers.  His main companion and assistant was No. 1 Angel, Faithful Mary; and his celebrity was such that in 1936 John Hoshor wrote God in a Rolls Royce.  The Rise of Father Divine, Madman-Menace or Messiah.

Following an incident in which three men were stabbed by one of his angels, Father Divine was wanted for questioning.  He fled Harlem, but was found hiding behind the furnace in the cellar of Milford, Connecticut house.  Divine had tried to "invisibilize" himself, but seems to have failed.

Initially he denied being Father Divine.  But at the West 123rd Street station house, he notified authorities that "the Father had resumed his earthly body," and he was once again Father Divine.

The Unity Mission Church left West 123rd Street in 1946.  The building was sold to Jacob Goodman & Co., which announced they were "considering plans for altering the property into apartments."  Instead, the firm resold the structure "to a buyer who intends to spend $50,000 on alterations," as reported by The New York Times on February 1, 1947.

Especially charming were the metal dormers, with openings on three sides. 

A second church took over the building; followed by the newly-formed Bethelite Community Baptist Church (known as the Bethel Gospel Assembly) in 1948.  Founded by Rev. Millard Alexander Stanley, he supposedly invented the name "Bethelite" after a drug addict said to him "If y'all gonna be a church, you better 'Be-The-Lite."

Bethel Gospel Assembly remained through 1984, when the congregation purchased and renovated the former Fennimore Cooper Junior High School.  The Lenox Avenue was sold to Pastor James David Manning's ATLAH (All The Land Anointed Holy) Worldwide Missionary Church.  He used the church's outdoor signboard to spread his outrageous and, some would say un-Christian, viewpoints.

Hateful messages like "We will take Harlem back from the pinch nose sellout Negroes and the demonic homos" and "Jesus would stone homos.  Stoning is the law" in 2014 drew protestors to Lenox Avenue.

Manning sided with Donald Trump, posting that Barack Obama was a Muslim and not a valid president.  In August 2014 he asserted that Russian President Vladimir Putin would release KGB intelligence "that would prove that President Obama is homosexual."

The splinter group is still in the former Harlem Club, although financial pressures make its future questionable (Manning refuses to pay taxes, insisting the church should be exempt like other religious institutions, although his is not a recognized sect.)

In the meantime, despite the loss of the Lenox Avenue balcony and altered windows; Lamb & Rich's striking clubhouse survives as an imposing reminder of a far different period in Harlem history.

photographs by the author

The 1891 Chas. E. Campbell House -- No. 212 Lenox Avenue

No. 212 was one of a row of four dwellings designed as a whole.  photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

By the time developers John M. Woods & Co., of Boston, completed the four speculative mansions at No. 206 to 212 Lenox Avenue in 1892, Dr. Charles E. Campbell was well-established and highly regarded in the medical community.  Four years earlier when rumors of foul play surrounded the untimely death of actress Lilian Olcott, it was Campbell’s testimony regarding her demise that put reporters’ suspicions to rest.

Born in Canada, Campbell had come to New York in 1857 and studied medicine in the New York Homoeopathic Medical College.  During the Civil War he was stationed in Washington, serving as a surgeon.  Then in 1888, the same year that Lilian Olcott died, the physician purchased an idle factory in Dexter, New York.  As a drastically different second occupation, he established the Dexter Sulphite Pulp and Paper Company.

By now the Lenox Avenue neighborhood had developed a respectable reputation as well.   Grand residences replaced the farm houses and country estates that had populated the area only a few decades earlier.  Although the New York subway would not be extended into Harlem until 1900; the owners of these properties did not need it--they rode in carriages.  In 1886 The New York Times described the area as “particularly desirable and all the houses that have been put up in this neighborhood are handsome, well-built, elegant structures, and the locality is free from many objectionable features.”

The four homes erected by John M. Woods & Co. were designed to form a visual unit.  Nos. 206 and 212 at the ends were nearly matching, and with the two identical homes in between, the group resembled a single, grand estate.

No. 212 Lenox Avenue did not sit vacant for long.  In May 1892 Dr. Campbell purchased the house from John M. Woods & Co. for $35,250, according to the Record and Guide on May 28.  For the hefty price (about $871,000 today) Campbell received a stately brick and brownstone mansion that couldn't quite make up its mind architecturally.

The rough-cut parlor and basement floors smacked, mostly, of Renaissance Revival.  An especially quirky dog-leg stoop made several turns before depositing visitors onto the sidewalk.  Two walls of different heights at the property line protected the stoop and the English basement.  Somewhat unexpectedly, the architect installed a classical two-part window like a little Greek temple next to the arched doorway with its oversized, scrolled keystone.  Stained glass transoms flanked the centered Ionic pilaster, and the whole was capped by a formal closed pediment.

The formal window treatment contrasted with the rough-cut facade -- photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

The architect switched gears for the second and third floor; although the rough-cut brownstone continued as quoins up the sides of the red brick façade.  Two-story Romanesque arches connected two of the three bays and handsome terra cotta panels embellished the brick.  Above what was most likely an ambitious cornice was an exuberant Second Empire pyramidal mansard with fish scale tiles boasting a triple-bay dormer with a broken pediment, a hooded bullseye window, and elaborate iron cresting.

The Campbells had two sons.  The year after moving in James E. Campbell graduated from Yale University, publishing his “future address: 212 Lenox Avenue.”  Both James and his brother Clarence would follow their father and become physicians; although James would also serve as Secretary of the Dexter paper mill.

Dr. Campbell strikes a rather jaunty pose.  The Paper Mill and  Wood Pulp News, February 15, 1902 (copyright expired)

Campbell was instrumental in establishing the high-end community on Block Island and the family maintained a summer residence there.  In 1898 Charles had the house enlarged--the same year that he found himself behind bars.  Campbell was not far from his home on August 7, driving a light wagon near along Lenox Avenue at 120^th Street.  He suddenly collided with Japanese bicyclist Meta Sago.  The 21-year old was “knocked from his wheel and sustained a severe scalp wound,” reported The New York Times.  He was taken to Harlem Hospital.  Campbell was arrested and “later was bailed out.”

By 1894 the Campbells were renting a room in the house.  That year E. A. Maher was boarding here when he two other investors formed The Electric Illuminating and Power Company of Long Island City. 

Close inspection reveals delicate carving on either side of the scrolled keystone -- photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

For at least four years, from  1902 through 1906, Dr. Frank Clerk Yeomans practiced medicine from the house.  Somewhat of a prodigy, Yeomans had graduated from Cornell University Medical School in 1900 with “highest honors” and received the Harriet Crocker Alexander Prize of $150 for general proficiency.  He became a member of the surgical staff of New York Hospital.  “He completed his service there January, 1902, and since then has been practicing medicine at 212 Lenox Avenue,” reported Yale University’s Sexennial Record in 1905.   By the following year he had been made Clinical Assistant in Surgery in the Cornell University Hospital’s Genito-Urinary Diseases Department.

Dr. Yeoman was gone in October 1908 when the Campbells placed a new advertisement in the New-York Tribune.  “Large front room in private family; gentlemen only; reference.”

Dr. Chester Rutter Brown answered the ad and would be in the house for at least two years.  He advertised his office hours “Until 10 A.M., 12 to 1 P.M., excepting Sundays and Wednesdays 6 to 8 P.M.  telephone Harlem 276.”

It appears that the Campbells leased the room because of tenuous financial circumstances.  Despite his medical practice and the seemingly successful paper mill, Charles Campbell nearly lost the mansion in 1909.  A Sheriff’s Sale was scheduled for Tuesday, December 20 “of all rights, title, etc., which C. E. Campbell had on Oct 23, 1906 or since.”

Somehow Charles E. Campbell held on to the Lenox Avenue house; and his funeral would be held in the parlor four years later.  In September 1913 the 72-year old died in the Block Island house following an operation.  In reporting his death The New York Times called him “one of the oldest practicing physicians in the city.”

Campbell’s widow continued to live on in the Lenox Avenue house and was highly active in charitable causes.  In April 1917, for instance, she hosted the monthly meeting of the New York Fresh Air Fund for Adults and Elderly People.

She continued to lease a room and on Friday, July 16, 1920 Jane E. Sinakoss died in the house.  The woman known as “Poddie,” was given a requiem mass at the beautiful Church of St. Thomas the Apostle on West 118^th Street.

Only three years later another roomer would die here.  Virginia W. Gillespie Baldwin, widow of Colonel W. E. Baldwin of Columbia, Mississippi, died on February 28, 1923.  The funeral services were held in the house on March 2.

Four months later, after occupying the mansion for three decades, the Campbell family sold No. 212 Lenox Avenue.  In reporting the sale, The Times noted “The property was held at $32,000 and the sale carries with it possession.  Alterations will be made for business purposes.”

It was the end of the line for the 20-foot wide home as a private family residence.  It was divided into apartments and became home to a variety of tenants, like Ralph Moragne and his wife who lived here during the 1940s.  Moragne was at the time a military policeman stationed at No. 31 West 110^th Street.

photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

Despite the indignation suffered by many of the once-grand homes in Harlem during the 20^th century, No. 212 Lenox Avenue escaped relatively intact on the outside.  The cornice and the detailing of the windows above the entrance most likely became victims of a legally-required fire escape.  Yet despite this (and unsympathetic replacement windows) the house with its charming mish-mash of styles manages to retain its 19^th century dignity.

The Victor Hugo Jackson House -- No. 240 Lenox Avenue

photograph by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

Since the land was acquired by New York City in 1839 until the 1870s, Mount Morris Square was a destination spot for New Yorkers.  Weekend excursions to the park far to the north were spent in picnicking and strolling in the country air.  The remoteness of the park changed in 1872 when the elevated train service was extended into Harlem.

Now, in addition to the developing Upper East and West Sides, there was another potential suburb.  Wealthy speculators rushed to grab up blocks of property and erect rows of handsome dwellings.  Among them was the row of five homes stretching from No. 240 Lenox Avenue, at the corner of 122^nd street to No. 248. 

By the time the row was constructed, a fashionable neighborhood had already begun sprouting along the broad avenue.  Holy Trinity Church, later renamed St. Martin’s, sat on the opposite corner of 122^nd Street; a magnificent Romanesque Revival structure designed by William A. Potter and completed in 1888.  Across Lenox Avenue was a row of identical brownstone-clad neo-Grec homes with handsome porticos.

But this new row would draw from a grab bag of styles, resulting in especially eye-catching and up-to-date residences.  Four stories tall including a high mansard roof, they sat on limestone English basements.  No. 240 anchored the row and was the most desirable because of its windows on three sides.  The Second Empire-style mansard was covered in fish scale tiles and pierced by cast metal dormers.  The cornice, too, with its twining vines and applied rosettes, was of pressed metal.  The three floors of red brick borrowed elements of Queen Anne in its bands of terra cotta tiles and multi-paned windows.  Paneled Queen Anne-style chimneys were topped by clustered terra cotta chimney pots.  Wonderfully quirky ironwork down the stoop and around the areaway featured twisted, wrought iron posts, wavy balusters, and decorative curlicues. 

The elegant row combined a variety of architectural styles -- photograph by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

An unusual touch was the hefty, carved limestone entrance way.  A lion’s head peers out from floral decoration within the classical pediment and elaborate Corinthian capitals sit on scrolled pilasters.  Totally out of place, it would be more expected in a late 19^th century apartment building.

When William S. Hollingsworth purchased the house from Harriet H. Holder on October 27, 1890, his mortgage was $28,000 (almost $700,000 today).  Hollingsworth would not hold on to the property for long and by the turn of the century it was owned by Dr. Victor Hugo Jackson.

The bachelor dentist was a pioneer in the field of orthodontics.  In 1893 he attended the World’s Columbia Dental Congress where much attention was given to his advances in straightening teeth. Dr. Jackson was blunt in his opinion on the subject of what materials were best suited for constructing the appliances.  As reported by The Dental Cosmos, “He had found nothing so good as piano-wire, having tried gold wire and iridium and gold.  These are good, but as soon as you apply heat to hard solder then you destroy all the spring and spoil the virtue of the wire.”

Perhaps No. 240 was too much house for the dentist, for it appears he took in boarders.  In 1903 sisters Anna and Elizabeth B. Craig lived here.  Both taught at Public School No. 7.  And in 1907 the 69-year old George B. Brown and his wife were living here.  George died in the house on Thursday, October 1 that year.

None of Jackson’s boarders would be as colorful as the local politician William B. Stambaugh.  In 1913 when John Purroy Mitchel received the backing of the Fusion committees (a cooperation of the Republican and Independent parties) in his run for mayor, Stambaugh launched into action.

Mitchel had already made a name for himself as a reformer and was popular among the anti-Tammany groups.  In an effort to get Charles S. Whitman elected over Mitchel, Stambaugh called a meeting in the Lenox Avenue house on August 2, 1913.  The following day The New York Times reported “The Whitman Independence League was organized at 240 Lenox Avenue yesterday afternoon.  William B. Stambaugh is the moving spirit of the new organization, which has for its purpose not only to obtain the nomination of District Attorney Whitman for Mayor, but also to put a full ticket in the field.”

The problem for Stambaugh and his followers was that Whitman was not eager to run.  He told reporters at a conference in Bretton Woods, New Hampshire on August 4 that he was “unalterably opposed” to the use of his name as a third candidate.

“I have fought Tammany Hall all my life and shall continue to do so.  You can be sure that no amount of pressure or argument will induce me to do anything that will give aid or succor to Tammany Hall,” he said.

Stambaugh was unmoved.  The New York Times reported the following day “The Whitman Independence League, at a meeting at 240 Lenox Avenue last night, passed resolutions empowering a committee of five to meet Mr. Whitman to-day to urge him to agree to have his name submitted to the people on the primary ballot…William B. Stambaugh, Chairman of the league, said he thought the plan was a solution of the present difficulty in that the voters themselves could determine just whom they wanted for Mayor.”

Despite Stambaugh's efforts, Michel was elected Mayor of New York the following year.  But, undeterred by the setback, William B. Stambaugh threw his hat into the Congressional race that year.  On June 29, 1914 the New-York Tribune reported that he “announced his candidacy for Congress on the Republican ticket in the 19^th district.”  In reporting his run, the newspaper noted he was a member “of several clubs and fraternal orders, including the Harlem Republican Club, Citizens Union, Collegiate Club of New York, and Bunting Lodge 665, F. and A. M.”

Queen Anne chimneys coexist with a French Second Empire roof.  The cast metal of the dormers and cornice is evident in the current rusting condition -- photograph by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

In the meantime, Dr. Jackson quietly went ahead with his dentistry in his office at No. 57 West 57^th Street, and worked on perfecting the science of braces.  The same year that Stambaugh ran for Congress, Jackson introduced the Jackson System of Orthodontia for straightening teeth.  He also founded the Victor Hugo Jackson Clinic of Oral Surgery and amassed a collection of dental models and library of manuscripts.

On March 1, 1924 the wealthy dentist sat down to write his will.  Although he named eight relatives, giving them a total of $52,000 from his extensive fortune, he wrote flatly that “no other relative has taken any interest in my lifework and I am not including them.”

Instead, he lavished large amounts on charities.  To the University of Michigan he bequeathed more than $150,000; $94,000 to the Dental School of the University of Buffalo; and $10,000 each to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.  Jackson was adamant regarding the use of his money going to the Society of the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.  Rather than for the care of animals, it was to “be used for the prosecution of all persons in any way connected with taking away the eyesight of animals, such as is practiced on some of our noble-spirited horses.”

Jackson’s careful and detailed will was, as it turned out, all for nothing.  He died on January 26, 1929 leaving an estate of what would amount to about $4.5 million today.  A week later his relatives filed an application to have the will pronounced void.  Jackson had inadvertently failed to have his will witnessed.

Surrogate O’Brien, on February 9, 1929, invalidated the will.  The more than $270,000 in charitable bequests were lost and Jackson’s family, whom he had purposely left out of the will, divided his fortune.

The house at No. 240 Lenox Avenue was assessed at $20,000—a fraction of its value at the turn of the century.  The Harlem neighborhood had suffered and things only got worse when later that year the country was crippled by the Great Depression.

In June 1938 the Jacob Goodman Company sold the house “to a buyer for altering,” according to The New York Times.  The “altering,” completed on December 8 that year, resulted 25 “furnished rooms” in Dr. Jackson’s cultured home.  It was now what was brutally termed a flop house.

But change came to the Mount Morris Park area towards the end of the century.  Residents realized the historic and architectural value of the century-old buildings.  A movement was initiated to preserve the heritage of the neighborhood.

The scar between the second and third floor as well as the gruesome platform below the oriel are no doubt the result of a former fire escape -- photograph by Nicolas Lemery Nantel / salokin.com

In 2013 another conversion was completed on No. 240 Lenox Avenue—resulting in one spacious apartment per floor.  Dr. Victor Hugo Jackson’s handsome home still shows the scars of abuse; yet it radiates the essence of an elegant turn-of-the-century Harlem.