An 1890s Souvenir -- No. 101 East 75th Street

Although in 1891 Cornelius Vanderbilt’s train tracks to Grand Central Depot had been submerged below Park Avenue for more than a decade, it would be another ten years before millionaires began constructing mansions on the avenue.  But the neighborhood was becoming more respectable.  Where small butcher and grocery shops and modest homes had stood, rows of Queen Anne rowhouses cropped up, along with French flats—the term used to distinguish upright apartment buildings from tenement houses.

Getting in on the trend was developer Lorenz Weiher.  A year earlier he had purchased the entire block of properties fronting Park Avenue on the east side, as well as the house at No. 101 East 75^th Street.  It was here in No. 101 in 1866 that 12-year old Richard Humphrey lived.  That year he blew his middle finger off “by the premature discharge of a pistol which he was loading” in preparation for the Independence Day celebration.

Weiher had the existing structures razed and in their place erected a row of seven brick, stone and terra cotta flats which he gave the impressive name, The Terrace.  The structures featured the latest in 1890s taste.  Generally neo-Renaissance, they included nubby terra cotta tiles borrowed from the Queen Anne style and incised lines within the two-story brick piers of the fourth and fifth floors, made popular by the Eastlake Movement.

Placing the entrance of the corner buildings on Park Avenue would have caused a logistical problem.  The architect would have to bisect the front apartments for the stair and hall; and residents might be faced with a long walk inside.   With the entrances placed on the side streets, the two apartments on each floor were separated by the stair hall—providing commodious flats six bays wide on the east and west sides of the hall.  The arrangement also provided store space on Park Avenue for the two buildings.

Weiher’s $170,000 project was completed in 1891 and No. 101 East 75^th Street, the southern anchor building, filled with a variety of tenants.  They were seemingly comfortable businessmen, like Nathaniel White who ran a watch business on Maiden Lane, and Louis N. Lake, a grain broker.

Hendrik-Dirk Kruseman Van Elten was also among the first residents.  Born and trained in Holland, he was an established landscape artist before first exhibited at the National Academy of Design in 1866.  By the time Van Elten moved into No. 101, his European style had become heavily influenced by the Hudson River School.

The comfortable financial conditions of the residents was reflected in Sophia Stitzer’s brush with a burglar on September 9, 1896.  When the widow returned home that afternoon, she realized that her door had been forced open.  As she entered, a man rushed past her and down the stairs.

Sophia Stitzer was right behind.  She caught the attention of a policeman and 40-year old Frank Coleman was promptly arrested.  The burglar was searched and The New York Times reported that “$700 worth of watches, jewelry, and diamonds was found on him.”  Although not all of the loot was Sophia’s (he had robbed the flat of Milton Pemberton at No. 101 East 78^th Street the same day), the haul would amount to over $18,000 today.

The retail space at No. 101 was home to Heinrich F. Holtorf’s grocery store.  The German-born immigrant lived upstairs with his wife, Christina, and their three children.  Like almost every other resident, they had servants—Gertrude Hecker was their cook and teenaged Freda Hense helped with the children.

By 1902 J. B. Henck, Jr. lived here.  He was a member of the Appalachian Mountain Club and apparently he found the racket of city life a distressing contrast to the calm of forest hiking.  On January 15, 1906 the New-York Tribune published his letter to the editor regarding the annoying whistles of Hudson River boat traffic.

“Whatever tends to reduce the wear and tear of nerves in a great city is worth serious attention, and that is my excuse for asking space to suggest what I believe would be a practicable substitute for the constant tooting of whistles on our rivers and harbors,” he began.

Henck suggested connecting the ship’s whistle cord to a pulley fastened to a shuttered lantern.  “Then whenever the whistle was blown the light would be uncovered, and there would be a flash for every toot.”  Henck suggested that after awhile, river captains would become accustomed to the lights and the annoying whistles would no longer be necessary.

Heinrich Holtorf was doing well for himself in his corner grocery store and when the building was put on the market in March 1909 he purchased it for $75,000 (about $1.85 million today).  Before the year ended, the rest of The Terrace buildings were purchased by a syndicate which demolished the row—leaving No. 101 the sole survivor.

A 1922 renovation resulted in the Victorian portico being replaced with a more modern entrance.

By the time of World War I Park Avenue was seeing the rise of brick and limestone mansions.  The street’s heightened upscale reputation was reflected in the tenant list of No. 101 East 75^th Street.  In December 1917 Louise Gardner married Frederick Rodgers, an exporter and the son of the late Rear Admiral Frederick Rodgers, in the fashionable Trinity Chapel.

The Gardner name was well-known in polite society.  Louise was the only child of John C. F. Gardner and the former Jane S. Hatch.  She had grown up in the family mansion at No. 25 West 55^th Street and summered in their Nantucket home.

The Sun noted on January 6, 1918 “On their return from their wedding trip Mr. and Mrs. Rodgers will live at 101 East Seventy-fifth street.”   Two days later The New York Times alerted society that the newlyweds were back home.

The war in Europe affected the couple the following year when Frederick served on the jury in the U.S. Government’s treason case against Albert Paul Fricke.  Fricke was charged with harboring a German spy, Hermann Wessells, and of arranging meetings with other persons in sympathy with Wessells’ mission.

While Frederick Rodgers was sitting on the jury for several weeks, other tenants in the building included author Geraldine Bonner.  Her popular novels included Tomorrow’s Tangle; The Black Eagle Mystery; Treasure and Trouble Therewith; and Rich Men’s Children.  Another creative resident was Marjory Peck.  In August 1919 she entered The Rieser Company’s contest on “Why I Prefer Venida Hair Nets.”  Of the more than 5,000 entries, Marjorie won the $35 third prize.

Also living here were Mrs. Lewis Broomall and her daughter Virginia.  Virginia left her mother in June 1921 following her wedding to George Winship Taylor in the Church of the Resurrection. 

Attorney Leland Blodget Duer and his wife, the former Dorothy Dean Tate, lived here at the time.  Duer’s diverse interests had led him to spend the summer of 1909 in Canada photographing moose, bear and other wild game; and later that year serving as secretary to Justice Holmes of the Supreme Court of the United States.  Now he was a member of the legal firm Simpson, Thacher & Barlett at No. 62 Cedar Street.

The Worthington family was also in the building.  Thomas Kimber Worthington had married Mary Grace Thomas in 1887 and they had two sons (their daughter died in 1912).  Mary was a graduate of Johns Hopkins University and was a Supervisor of Field Work at the New York School of Philanthropy.

Son Harold was still living with his parents in 1922.  A graduate of Yale, he had served in the U.S. Army during the war as a first lieutenant in Field Artillery.  Now he was in the import-export business and was affiliated with the Pennsylvania Railroad and General Electric Company.

That year Holtorf hoped to bring the 30-year old structure more into the jazz age.  He hired architects Schwartz & Gross to renovate the interiors and remove the Victorian portico on East 75^th Street.  He stopped short of reducing the size of the apartments, however; and maintained the original two flats on each floor. 

No. 101 East 75^th Street would continue to attract an interesting list of residents.  Glenn Hall lived here; a well-known tenor at the turn of the century and a singer with the Metropolitan Opera Company from 1909 to 1911.  And when French sculptress Jacqueline Zay visited Manhattan in 1939, she was the guest of honor at a cocktail party in the apartment of Henry d’Omano, Director of the French Government Tourist Bureau.

At some point in the 20^th century No. 101 was painted white; obliterating the contrast between brick, stone and terra cotta.  Heinrich (now referred to as Henry) Holtorf died in the building in 1937 and his family retained possession until 1951 when it was sold to Anna Efron.

A Russian immigrant, she would own the property for over three decades.  During this time the corner grocery store became a flower shop.  Efron sold the building in 1983 to Gran Sabana Corporation who, in the late 1990s stripped the paint off the old red brick.  The Landmarks Preservation Commission stepped in (the building is situated within the Upper East Side Historic District) when the firm decided to paint it yellow.

Although the retail store is distressing, the building escaped being painted yellow.

Today Henry Holtorf’s grocery is home to a gallery behind a pseudo-modern façade.  The rest of the building is a bit careworn; and the Victorian ornamentation above the cornice long ago disappeared.  And yet No. 101 East 75^th Street still retains its dignity, an 1890s artifact within a sea of 20^th century apartment buildings.

photographs taken by the author

The Somewhat Eerie Nos. 33-35 West 46th Street

photo by Alice Lum

Lorenz Weiher acted as his own architect and the prolific developer was responsible for numerous apartment buildings, commercial structures and even nickelodeons throughout New York City.   In 1915, though, he worked for another developer, the Ritz Realty Corporation, in designing a wide loft building on West 46^th Street.

A generation earlier the block between Fifth and Sixth Avenues was part of the most exclusive residential neighborhood of the city.  But by now high-end commercial establishments had crept up Fifth Avenue and the wealthy homeowners had fled northward along Central Park.  Although the 19^th century brownstone houses still mostly remained on 46^th Street, they were being one-by-one converted to business uses or demolished.

In January 1916 Weiher’s building was nearly completed.  Spanning the lots at Nos. 33 and 35 it replaced two of the brownstone residences, rising nine stories above the sidewalk.  The architect lavishly clad the façade in white terra cotta that erupted in Neo-Gothic ornamentation.   The steel framing of the building coupled with the cast iron window supports made possible vast expanses of glass; allowing sunlight to pour into the loft spaces.

A frightening half-man, half-bat crouches ready to spring onto pedestrians below -- photo by Alice Lum

Above the second floor windows a monstrous bat-like creature loomed menacingly over passersby and two Medieval-looking figures scrunched  below the cornice at that level.  Intricate Gothic motifs including canopies, shields and more grotesques rose to the spiky parapet above.

A medieval-looking figure strains to uphold the cornice -- photo by Alice Lum

The eye-catching building would cost Ritz Realty about $110,000; but with construction still underway in January the firm tripled its investment by selling it for $375,000.  Or so it thought. 

photo by Alice Lum

The deal fell through and Ritz Realty began filling the gleaming white building with a variety of tenants.  A month later Cobb & Jenkins, importers of English woolens, leased the 6^th floor for a period of ten years and in September Windsor Furniture Company leased the eastern portion of the ground floor retail space, at No. 33, for $5,000 a year.  S. Cottle Company, jewelers moved in as well.

The next year the United States declared war against Germany and the resulting anti-German sentiments caused tension.   The stores of Rochambeau and Lady Teazle Shop shared retail space at sidewalk level and in June 1918 both establishments displayed placards in their store windows:

SPEAKING GERMAN PROHIBITED ON THESE PREMISES.

The French-born owner of Le Brun directly across the street at No. 48, Mr. Joire, had returned to New York only a few months earlier, having been gassed twice in the Battle of the Aisne.  He pointed to the placards and announced to The New York Tribune “It is safe to say there are no English-language newspapers published in Berlin to-day and that speaking the English language is not permitted there in public.

“Every store in the city should post these signs.”

High above street level are additional agonized figures -- photo by Alice Lum

The same month 19-year old Irene Kehoe brought publicity to the building again.   The teen was working as a bookkeeper in the wholesale jewelry store of Alfred A. Casse.   On the afternoon of June 4 a young man entered the business saying he was looking for a job.  But when Irene approached him, he grabbed four gold vanity cases set with diamonds, valued at $2,000, and ran out the door.

Spunky Irene Kehoe was not having it.

Despite her long Edwardian skirt and high-buttoned shoes, The New York Tribune reported that “Miss Kehoe gave chase, treating Fifth Avenue to an actual demonstration of the theory woman is the hunter and man the hunted.”

A larger and larger crowd of upscale shoppers joined in the chase along Fifth Avenue and then “Miss Kehoe made a daring flying tackle just as a policeman arrived,” said The Tribune.   As he fell, the four vanity cases spilled onto the sidewalk.  The Sun added that “The girl preferred charges of theft against him.”

Other winged figures adorn the piers alongside the diadem-like parapet -- photo by Alice Lum

The building continued to attract a diverse mix of tenants.  In 1919 Arthur A. Marshall & Brother leased the entire ground floor store; Kleinberger Brothers took the fifth story loft and William Hartman Woodin, Jr., leased half of the second floor (Woodin’s father at the time was President of the American Car and Foundry Company, but would resign to become Director of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, then Secretary of the Treasury under Roosevelt).

On December 22, 1921 two masked gunmen entered the business of W. E. Ball & Co, making off with $15,000 worth of goods.  They were caught 17 days later while holding up Charley Kee’s Chinese Restaurant on the second floor of 803 Broadway.

The Praemafix Corporation of America was operating from an upper floor at the same time, a manufacturer of embossing machines.

The following year E. Hemmendinger, Inc. advertised space in the building “Desirable, well lighted small space, suitable for watchmaker or designer; excellent location, sixth floor.”    At the time the store and basement were home to The Fenimore C. Goode Company, a printing company founded that year; and among the tenants upstairs were milliners B. C. Olson, Inc; A. & S. Espositer, “expert lapidaries” who paid “highest prices…for fine rough gem material;” and the industrial research laboratories of Inecto, Inc.

Inecto Rapid promised 1920s women they could keep their youthful looks.

Inecto would be in the building for over a decade, manufacturing and marketing Inecto Rapid—a solution that promised aging flappers and society dowagers renewed youth.  An advertisement in Harper’s Bazaar sympathized:

Gray Hair comes like a thief in the dark, stealing youthful looks while a woman is yet young in body and in spirit.  It is unfair to yourself to have this handicap in life.

But there was hope!  The ad went on to say “A prominent society woman said: ‘I discovered Inecto Rapid when we were in Europe last Summer and my husband says—‘It has taken twenty years from my appearance.’”

As the century progressed, however, the jewelry firms and millinery companies gave way to less high-end leasers.  By the 1940s the building housed G. V. Corporation, distributors of the Adams chewing gum and the Cleevelandt Corporation which offered the gaudy “good luck cigarette case,” a novelty item that held 19 cigarettes and was encrusted with “all the good luck charms.”  Called by Cleevelandt “the newest item under the sun” it retailed for $1.00.  At the same time Rolls Razor was here, makers and distributors of the ingenious safety razor that honed itself as it was removed and replaced into its holder.

Through the late 1950s The National Sports Council had its office here.   The ads were familiar to every boy who picked up a Boy’s Life magazine or flipped through the ads for x-ray glasses and cap guns in the back of comic books.    With headlines like “We’ll show you how to take care of yourself” and “Your mirror will show muscles of iron in just 10 days,” the ads prompted boys to send $1 for the Conditioning Secrets by Ten Champions.

The ads assured “We promise to help you…as we have done for thousands of other fellows.  In a few exciting weeks we turn flabby muscles into steel.”

photo by Alice Lum

With expected alterations to the street level, Lorenz Weiher’s surprising building at Nos. 33-35 West 46^th Street—at once beautiful and a bit macabre—survives essentially intact.  And the sinister bat-man creature above the second floor still sends shivers up the spines of passersby who glance up.