Showing posts with label madonna. Show all posts
Showing posts with label madonna. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Harperley Hall -- No. 1 West 64th Street





In the first years of the 20th century residents of the Upper West Side were embracing apartment house living like no other Manhattanites.   Not only were vacant lots being bought filled with large multi-family structures; but mansions and rowhouses—most no more than 20 years old—were rapidly being demolished.  In 1909 plans were laid for Harperley Hall, the first apartment building on the Upper West Side to operate under the cooperative system.

On June 13, 1909 the New-York Tribune reported that Harperley Hall, “a new corporation” had purchased the 100-by-150 foot plot at the northwest corner of Central Park West and 64th Street.  “On the plot will be erected a twelve story apartment house.  This is a co-operative undertaking, and will represent an investment of about $1,200,000.”

The name of the corporation came from three of its directors—Alfred Wilkinson, John Wilkinson and Henry W. Wilkinson.  Their impressive pedigree extended centuries back into British peerage.  The family’s extensive estate near Lanchester, England included a 17th century manor house was known as Harperley Hall.  It was described in the 1879 Directory of Durham and Northumberland as “a plain mansion situated in an extensive park, [which] commands a beautiful view of the surrounding country.”

Henry Wilhelm Wilkinson not only lent the name of his family’s estate to the new building, he designed it.   While other apartment houses were being designed in the ebullient Beaux Arts style—dripping with festoons, scrolled keystones and gushing ornamentation—Wilkinson turned to the less expected Arts & Crafts style.

The style represented a rebellion not only against overblown decoration and Victorian excess, but against the loss of craftsmanship caused by the Industrial Revolution.  Harperley Hall would reflect the movement in earthy tiles embedded in the beige brick façade, crisp lines and Stickley-like balconies. 

Arts and Crafts tiles and brick diapering are most evident at the top two floors.

On July 17, 1909 the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide reported that the estimated cost for the structure was $500,000.  Around the same time the New-York Tribune noted that among the tenant-owners were Mrs. Mary Linton Bookwalter, Loudon Charlton, Professor Wendell T. Bush, Mrs. James Oliphant and Mrs. C. M. Hutchinson.

The architectural style was not the only thing to set Harperley Hall apart from other apartment buildings.  The New York Times announced on May 9, 1909 that it “promises to be unique among structures of that class, in that it will contain no two apartments of exactly the same ‘layout.’”  Each owner consulted with Wilkinson to decide “how he will divide this space, as well as all details as to the arrangement of rooms.”  The newspaper added “There will be no such thing as a ‘typical apartment’ in the building.”

In fact, the owners not only consulted with Henry W. Wilkinson, but with another director and owner, Mary Linton Bookwalter.  She had studied art in Europe before returning to New York to study architecture.  The interior designs of the Harperley Hall apartments were done by Bookwalter and she reportedly scrutinized the work of the builders.

The New York Times reported that in addition to six duplexes facing the Park, there were to be five apartments per floor, including one “bachelor suite of living room, bedroom, bathroom, and kitchenette.”  As the building rose in March 1910 The Twentieth Century Magazine wrote “These apartments are to be real homes, for each one is planned with respect to the tastes and characteristics of the individual owner, and from the big entrance court to the last detail of the summer garden on the roof everything in the power of the architect has been done to achieve the simplicity and quiet which the occupants of the homes desire.



“In fact the architect himself, Henry Wilhelm Wilkinson, has an apartment in the building.  The exterior of the building is in a gray and green scheme with windows admitting a flood of sunshine and air, and many of them open on balconies wide enough to be really useful.”

The reporter was taken with the ample closet space.  “And there are closets, huge closets, for every apartment, the largest offering the bliss of fourteen closets, while even the smallest one has a closet like one of our grandmother’s storerooms as well as a basement trunk room.”



As the building neared completion, accolades rolled in.  One critic, however, was a bit more judgmental.  The “Personal News and Trade Gossip” column of the Real Estate Record & Guide on November 19, 1910 pointed out, “A feature of the façade of the great apartment house on Central Park West, called ‘Harperley Hall,’ and one that is noticed by every architectural critic, is the cornice, which is strongly reminiscent of the scaffolds commonly used in the erection of tall buildings.  Doubtless its form was suggested to Mr. H. W. Wilkinson, the architect, by one of the hanging scaffolds used on the Metropolitan Tower or some other high construction.”

Henry Wilkinson took one of the duplex apartments, as did American landscape painter Dwight William Tryon.  The Twentieth Century Magazine pointed out that the artist’s apartment “has for its chief feature the big studio with its great north light.”  Writer Wallace Irwin reduced the size of his living rooms in order to accommodate a large study.   Other modifications were made by impresario Loudon Charlton, who made the music room the central space of his apartment; and by Professor Wendall T. Bush of Columbia University who focused on his library.

The newly-completed building was depicted in Architecture & Building in November 1910 (copyright expired)

Upon Harperley Hall’s completion in 1911 Architecture and Building commented on its amenities.  “Of the housekeeping apartments there are six types, ranging from 6 to 11 rooms in a suite.  The non-housekeeping apartments contain from 2 to 4 rooms, and each has a kitchenette.  Even the electric plate warmer finds a place…On the fifth floor there are 4 guest rooms with baths, which may be rented by the tenants for their guests’ accommodation.”

In the basement was a kitchen run by the building management.  Although all tenants could order meals, it was designed for the convenience of the non-housekeeping, or “bachelor,” apartments.  Also in the basement were “a main laundry, fully equipped, with mechanical dryers, and an open-air drying yard is also provided on the roof.”   Tenants in the large apartments enjoyed a laundry tub in the kitchen, so that small washings could be done within the apartment.

Architecture and Building approved of the fuel-burning fireplaces.  “A thoughtful idea on the part of the designers was the placing of an open fireplace in each apartment, in which coal or wood can actually be burned.  This is a delightful departure from the usual stereotyped form of gas log.”

Certainly Mary Bookwalter did not approve of the inclusive of what were probably family pieces--a Victorian armchair and settee--in the Arts & Crafts interior of the apartment pictured in Architecture & Building in November 1910 (copyright expired)

At least one critic credited Mary Bookwalter for the successful design.  On November 12, 1911 The New York Times wrote “Towering above Central Park and the Century Theatre is Harperley Hall, one of the new studio and apartment buildings in a city which houses itself in such quarters.  It records the latest triumph of a woman who saw in New York her finest opportunity.  Her professional name is Mary Bookwalter.  In private life she is Mrs. Ackerman.”

The writer insisted “To-day Harperly [sic] Hall, which she designed and whose building she practically supervised, is the proof of New York’s approval of the woman who knows how and when to seize an opportunity.”

Harperley Hall would be home to a love-struck couple whose Romeo-and-Juliet story enchanted New Yorkers.  Thomas H. Wells and Stracia Walsh grew up in Ohio.  Wells was the son of a Youngstown steel magnate and he had fallen in love with Stracia while he was still in college.   But his parents disapproved and demanded that the courtship end.

Stracia Walsh moved to New York City “to make her own way in the world,” as reported by The New York Times on December 20, 1910.  She found a job as a manicurist in the Cadillac Hotel.  A few years passed and Thomas Wells finished college and landed a job as a stock broker.  Upon his father’s death he inherited just under $1 million.

Around October 1910 Wells, now 22 years old, wandered into the Cadillac Hotel where he saw his former sweetheart.  The chance meeting “ended in the courting being taken up where Wells’s parents caused it to be dropped several years ago,” said the newspaper.

Only a few weeks later, at the beginning of December, they were married.  The New York Times reported “It’s all true about the marriage of Thomas H. Wells, stockbroker, and Stracia Walsh, manicurist.  Moreover, it’s really romantic.” The newlyweds started their married life in Harperley Hall.

Among the original tenants was Almuth Cunningham Vandiver, former Assistant District Attorney.  He was married on Saturday, November 30, 1912 to Eleanor M. S. Williams in St. Bartholomew’s Church.  “Miss Williams comes from an old family of Long Island,” mentioned The Sun.

The couple would routinely appear in the society columns of New York newspapers.  The New York Times, for instance, reported on February 5, 1914 that “Mrs. Almuth C. Vandiver of 1 West Sixty-Fourth Street gave a dinner last night for Mrs. George Gordon Battle, and her sisters, Miss Bagby and Mrs. Bolling, of Richmond, Va.  There was dancing afterward.”

The following year Eleanor Vandiver gave birth in the Harperley Hall apartment.  On July 11, 1915 The New York Times reported that the Vandivers “are receiving congratulations on the birth of a son on Friday at their home.”  The newborn was christened Almuth Cunningham Vaniver, 2d.

An advertisement in the New-York Tribune on September 20, 1914 offered available apartments.  A 9-room suite with foyer and three baths could be had for $4000—about $50,000 in 2015.  The ad listed conveniences such as “refrigeration, filtered water, vacuum cleaner, perfectly equipped laundry.”

Other residents in the building at the time included Albert Smith Bickmore, noted educator and a trustee of the American Museum of Natural History.   He had degrees from Dartmouth, Harvard, Hamilton College, and Colgate University.  Bickmore had traveled the world collecting specimens for museums.

The arrival of the Vandiver baby in 1915 was a bright spot in an otherwise blighted year within Harperley Hall.  The first tragedy occurred in May when residents Charles F. Fowles and his wife left Europe to return home.

Fowles was born in England where he became a well-known and respected art dealer.   He moved to New York where he established Scott and Fowles Co. at No. 590 Fifth Avenue, described by American Art News as “handsome galleries.”  The magazine deemed him “most highly esteemed by his friends and associates” and “highly regarded, both for his personal qualities and knowledge of old and modern pictures, especially of the early English, Flemish and Dutch, and the modern Dutch and Barbizon schools.”

On May 1, 1915 the Fowles boarded the luxury steamship the RMS Lusitania for New York.  Because of the ongoing war, the ship had been painted a drab gray to help disguise her from enemy ships.  But six days later the Lusitania was torpedoed by the German U-boat U-20.  It sank within 18 minutes, taking Charles Fowles and his wife to their deaths.

As heartbreaking was the story of the Charles F. Schmidt family, who had moved into Harperley Hall a year earlier.  Schmidt was a wealthy banker and commission broker from Hamburg and the couple had a six-year old son.  They employed a nurse for the boy, Minna L. Flood, referred to by The Evening World as “the little boy’s negro maid.”

No sooner had the family moved in than the war in Europe interrupted Schmidt’s business.  But that was not the only problem they faced.  According to The Evening World on October 5, 1915, “Soon after the Schmidts came to this country they separated.”

Charles, it appears, had found another woman.  He did not expect, however, that his mistress would reveal everything to his wife in a letter.    The letter, dated September 30, 1915, was too much for the abandoned woman to bear.

On October 5 she took her little boy, described by The Evening World as “a very beautiful, perfectly formed blond youngster,” to the Hotel Wellington where she asked not to be disturbed.  The following day their bodies were found.  The Sun reported “The boy clasped in one arm an air rifle.  One arm of the mother was around him as she lay face downward on the bed.  Both were in their night clothes.  Three gas jets were open, leaving no doubt as to the manner in which both had died.”

The letter from Schmidt’s mistress, written in German, was in Mrs. Schmidt’s sachel.  The coroner read the letter then handed it to Schmidt, who had been notified and was sitting on the bed near the bodies.

“When Mr. Schmidt had read it he sat back in his chair and burst into tears,” reported The Sun,  “There was no doubt that the contents of the letter had driven the woman to end her life and that of the boy.”

Coroner Riordan was unmoved by Schmidt’s tears.  “Now you see why this has happened and why she did it.  You see what a lying tongue can do,” he snapped.

Another extra-marital affair caused upheaval in Harperley Hall that year.  Andrew A. Albright was president of the Rubberset Company and lived here with his wife and daughter.  On the night of November 24, 1915, Albright’s limousine pulled up to the curb of the West 68th Street Police Station and he ran inside.

He told Lt. O’Leary that his wife, his daughter and a maid were in the car; too frightened to go home.  He needed police to drive a gun-wielding woman from his apartment.  According to The New York Times the following day, he told police that two women “had taken possession and driven out his butler and several maids.”

Joseph Kaufman was employed in Albright’s company and he and his wife had become social with the Albrights.  Then Mrs. Albright’s and Joseph Kaufman’s relationship appears to have become more than social.

The Kaufmans had been married only about two years but he had recently left his wife.  Earlier on the night of November 24 Mrs. Kaufman received a telephone call inviting her to the Albright apartment.  Later, one of the Albright servants, Sarah Burke, admitted to authorities that she had been instructed to invite her.

When Mrs. Kaufman arrived she was told that the Albrights were out of town.  The puzzled woman returned home to find her apartment ransacked and “everything belonging to my husband had been removed.”

She was positive that Mrs. Albright had arranged to get her out of the apartment so her husband could get access.  Taking her maid with her as “a bodyguard” she packed a revolver and a horsewhip and headed back to Harperley Hall.

Policeman Maguire climbed into the Albright limousine next to the chauffeur.  The New York Times reported they “drove to Harperley Hall, where, on the fifth floor, Maguire found the butler and maids gathered in the hall outside the Albright apartment.  Within were Mrs. Joseph Kaufman, a pretty young woman of 23, and a woman of middle age, who brandished something long and slender, wrapped in paper, but looking like a horsewhip.”

Mrs. Kaufman agreed to leave, but she insisted on going with Officer Maguire to the police station to explain herself.  “Mrs. Albright is at the bottom of all my trouble, and I know she caused this action for divorce.  I went right back to her home, but she wasn’t there, and that’s all there is to it,” she said.

Life in Harperley Hall soon returned to normal.  In 1916 Henry W. Wilkinson leased his duplex apartment to widowed millionaire Philip Sidney Dyer.  Dyer had started out in the lumber business, but in 1879 took a position with Thomas A. Edison in his Menlo Park laboratory.  He later spent ten years living in Antwerp as the European representative for the Edison Electric Company.  By now he was not only the head of the American Horse Shoe Company, but Vice President of the Sweet Steel Company and of the West Branch Steel Company; a Director of no fewer than five other firms.

Living in the building at the time was popular stage actor Arnold Daly.  He was performing in The Master at the Bandbox Theatre on Monday night, January 8, 1917 when he complained of violent pains.  He insisted on going on with the performance and the pains eventually abated.


Arnold Daly -- Theatre Magazine vol. 4, 1904 (copyright expired)

But the following night in his apartment the pains returned around dinner time.   Daly was taken to Roosevelt Hospital on orders from Dr. Charles H. Peck who felt an immediate operation was necessary.  The Evening World reported the following day that the operation showed “he was suffering from peritonitis following the bursting of an abscess which had formed on the large intestine.”  The newspaper added, “Little hope is entertained for his recovery.”

In 1919 Philip Dyer was still leasing the Wilkinson apartment when the 62-year old underwent an operation.   Complications developed and a week later, on March 10, he died in the duplex apartment.

A bizarre tragedy occurred at Harperley Hall early on the morning of October 25, 1922.  Resident Lloyd Warren was head of the Institute of Fine Arts and was deemed by the New-York Tribune as “one of the wealthiest and best known of American art patrons and an architect of international distinction.”  Warren’s brother was Whitney Warren, the internationally-recognized architect and partner in Warren & Wetmore.

On the night of October 24 Warren hosted a dinner part for a group of friends in the apartment.  Early the following morning a milkman came across Lloyd Warren’s body, clad in his pajamas, in the delivery alley at the rear of the building.  The body was taken to the Warren apartment where police deemed his death a suicide.  It was not the sort of publicity wealthy families cared to deal with.

Almost immediately the cause of death was revised; explained by highly implausible theories.  Dr. Charles A. Gonzales, deputy medical examiner declared “it plainly due to accident.”  He told reporters that Warren had evidently been sleeping on a couch near the window and “might have rolled out of the window from his couch or have fallen through it while sleep-walking.”

Whitney Warren added his theory.  “My brother suffered injury while motoring near Rome last summer.  Since that he had been subject to fits of vertigo, but these were transient and he treated them as of no great consequence.  I am sure he fell from the window during one of these seizures.”

No matter how he died, architect John Gamble Rogers summed up the loss of the 54-year old saying, “Lloyd Warren did more for the advancement of architecture in this country than any other.  He was generous to a fault and devoted to artistic ideals.  His loss will be felt throughout the world of architecture.”


Dwight W. Tryon’s widow, Alice Beldon Tryon, was 82-years old when she died in her apartment on October 27, 1929, perhaps the last of the original owners.  Throughout the decades the commodious apartments would be home to a list of celebrated residents, including portrait artist Helen Watson Phelps and art expert Gaston Levi.

None, perhaps, would boast more celebrity than Madonna who renovated her 6,000-square foot duplex to include her own beauty parlor and a steam room.  Other amenities, according to The New York Times on June 14, 2013, included “six bedrooms in four bedroom wings, eight bathrooms and five wood-burning fireplaces.   The eat-in kitchen has marble slab counters, and the master bathroom, where the mode is vintage, has twin pedestal sinks, a claw-foot soaking tub and a marble shower.,”

When she moved to a much larger place in 1997 (a 12,000-square foot townhouse), the entertainer listed the Harperley Hall apartment for $6.75 million.  When there were no offers, the price was lowered to $6.25 million.

It was not until 2013 that Madonna’s apartment sold—at more than double her original asking price, $32.5 million.  


Upscale apartment buildings in Manhattan tend to live out their glory days, then fall into disfavor and neglect if, indeed, they are not demolished altogether.  Such is not the case along Central Park West.  The wonderfully-unique Arts & Crafts style Harperley Hall retains the exclusive status its original residents enjoyed when they moved in early in 1911.

photographs by the author
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Tuesday, January 14, 2014

The S. G. Etherington Mansion -- Nos. 152-156 East 81st Street

Originally three houses, Sandford G. Etherington melded them into one wide mansion -- photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel (www.salokin.com)


In the 1880s the block of East 81st Street between Lexington and Third Avenues was considered on the “wrong side” of Fourth Avenue (later renamed Park Avenue).  While the brick and brownstone-fronted rowhouses here housed respectable families; the neighborhood was too far removed from Fifth and Madison Avenues to lure Manhattan’s wealthiest citizens.

At Nos. 152, 154 and 156 were three brick-faced homes.  Slightly narrower than expected at just under 20 feet, they nevertheless boasted handsome mansard roofs and deep English basements below high stoops.  In 1889 George S. Block lived in the middle house.  He was listed as the “collector in Lauer’s brewery.”

At the turn of the century, the owners of No. 154 were experiencing financial difficulties and on July 2, 1903 the house was sold at auction “by order of the Sheriff.”   Before long the owner of No. 152 next door died and in 1906 the Hammel estate sold it to Dr. Julius Hoffman.

Dr. Hoffman was a well-respected physician who counted among his patients retired banker Henry Seligman (whom The New York Times was quick to clarify was “distantly related to the Seligman family of bankers).  In 1913 when Seligman was accidentally thrown from a street car he refused to have an ambulance called, and insisted that Dr. Hoffman be notified instead.

In the meantime a much wealthier young man was entering business life.  Sandford Garland Etherington graduated from Princeton University in 1906 and entered the family wholesale paper company, W. F. Etherton & Co.  In 1910 he married Dorothy McKinney in exclusive Greenwich, Connecticut and a year later their first daughter, Eleanor Grade was born.  The family lived in the enviable address of No. 527 Riverside Drive.

Etherington had mining interests in Mexico, was an avid athlete (he wrote of himself “Get hard exercise in summer, swimming, tennis, etc.  Confined in winter to squash, indoor tennis, gym, work.”), and a yachtsman. 

Yachting was Etherington’s favorite pastime and in 1911 the “Fifth Year Record, Class of 1906: Princeton University” said “S. G. E. is a boatman…He’s a splendid sailor.  Sometimes you have to dig his ship out of the mud to get it started.  That’s how the oyster men know him.  But truly if you ever want to bowl along in the merriest sort of a spanking breeze and a right smart pretty craft that dances over the Sound, persuade Sandy to ship you as crew.”

Although he deemed himself a “middler” in political beliefs; he did not waffle regarding his stance on women’s voting:  “Believe in woman suffrage?  No.  Does any male?  If so, who?”

On January 25, 1921 the three houses at Nos. 152 through 156 East 81st Street were sold.  The New-York Tribune reported that “The buyer, whose name is not divulged, plans an improvement for the site, but the character of it could not be learned from the brokers.”

At the time George and Eda Stookey were leasing No. 152 from Mrs. J. Hoffman.  Tragically, on the day following the sale their infant son, George Elwood Stookey, died.  The funeral for the baby was held in the house that Friday. 

Part of the mystery of who purchased the houses and what his intentions were came to light three months later.  On April 14 of that year the New-York Tribune reported that Nos. 154 and 156 East 81st Street had been sold to Dorothy M. Etherington and Eleanor B. McKinney, respectively.  It is doubtful that Eleanor McKinney, Dorothy’s sister, ever intended to live in the house.

That same month the American Contractor reported that plans were filed by architect George S. Chappell to alter the three houses into a single massive home 58 feet wide by 54 feet deep.  Chappell estimated that the alterations would cost the Etheringtons $50,000 – or about $610,000 today. 

Although a splattering of New York’s wealthy homeowners had spread further east than Park Avenue by now—Elisabeth Marbury and Elsie de Wolfe had started the fashionable Sutton Place enclave a year earlier—the Etheringtons’ decision to consolidate three old Victorian houses here into a single mansion is still a bit surprising.  Nevertheless, the project commenced and was completed within the year.

The result was a lavish home of more than two dozen rooms and a sprawling rear garden.  The growing Etherington family divided their time between the 81st Street house and their Maine summer estate, “Fortunes Rocks” in Biddeford.

Highly visible in social circles, Dorothy Etherington was deeply involved with the Metropolitan Opera.  It would take second stage, however, in the 1932 when the string of entertainments for Eleanor’s debut commenced.  Eleanor had graduated from the exclusive Chandor School and was, of course, a member of the New York Junior League.  Two years later it was daughter Nancy’s turn and the house was the scene of a tea dance on December 1, 1934.  The New York Times noted that the debutante “is home from Vassar for the holiday.”

Debutante entertainments turned to wedding celebrations as Eleanor’s engagement was announced by the Etheringtons on July 24, 1936.  Dorothy Etherington managed to juggle wedding plans with her social obligations to the Opera, however.  On March 16 that year she hosted “an explanatory lecture on ‘Parsifal’ with piano accompaniment” in the house for the subscribers to a benefit production of the opera.

The whirlwind of entertainments for the Etherington girls continued and on New Year’s Day 1937 the family announced the engagement of Nancy to Richard Wallace Banfield, a recent Dartmouth graduate. 

Following Dorothy’s death, Sandford continued to live in the 81st Street house with daughter Dorothy and son Sandford, Jr.; eventually remarrying.  The last of the children to leave the mansion was Dorothy, whose engagement to Charles Beach Powell was announced on July 22, 1951.

Before long the mansion became home to Paul Saurel and his wife, the former Louise Ramsay Hoguet.  The couple would have five children—Paul, Marie-Noel, Louise, Ramsay and Christine; but as was expected social attention was lavished on the daughters.  The tradition of debutante fetes would continue as Marie-Noel was introduced to society in 1960.  On November 24 the Saurels hosted a “small dinner dance” for their daughter who was at the time attending Smith College.

Three years later it would be daughter Louise who was in the spotlight at a dinner dance in the house.  Like her sister she had been educated in the private Chapin School.  Now she was studying at Bryn Mawr College.

Paul Saurel died in 1994 and Louise lived on alone in the house with her staff.  On February 2008, at the age of 92, the active socialite died in the mansion after a brief illness.  Louise’s housekeeper remembered her saying “She was loving, giving, patient; she didn’t care if you were black, white; always smiling, positive.”
Multi-colored slate tiles cover the mansard roof--photo by Nicolas Lemery Nantel (www.salokin.com)

Within a few months the house was put on the market for $45 million.

The New York Observer described it as a “57-foot wide, 26-room, 14-bathroom, 13-bedroom, nine-fireplace, four-story” house.  The 12,000 square foot house boasted a 3,000 square foot garden.  The listing included “a 38-foot-wide drawing room overlooking the garden; a formal dining room off the garden terrace; three pantries and two kitchens; two libraries and one sitting room; a parlor-floor dry bar and a ‘wine cellar/grotto’ in the basement; a gym; and a planned roof garden.”

Eight decades after the Etheringtons' surprising choice, the locality was still an issue.  The New York Observer still remarked “But [the buyer] won’t have super-prime location: the $45 million mansion is between Lexington and Third avenues.”

The listing included detailed floor plans -- Streeteasy.com

At the time that the house was put on the market, entertainer Madonna was reportedly having problems with her Upper West Side neighbors.  Residents below her 6,000-square foot apartment apparently complained about the loud noises and .music of rehearsals.

The solution:  a private house.

Madonna purchased the Etherington-Sauret mansion for $32 million in 2009 and set to work making some renovations before moving in.  The mansard was restored on what had been No. 154 (it had been modernized to accommodate a wall of windows) and a forbidding security gate that ran the length of the property was installed.  The rooftop terrace predicted by the realtor was completed and an indoor dance studio put in.

Curbed NY pointed out the exterior renovations done by Madonna -- http://ny.curbed.com/archives/2011/04/26/madonna_builds_gated_community_on_the_upper_east_side.php
Even with a highly-visible celebrity in residence, the understated mansion at Nos. 152-156 East 81st Street draws little notice.  And like the two wealthy families that preceded her, that is most likely just fine with her.