The Lost Amity Baptist Church - 310 West 54th Street

Raphael Guastavino's system of tiled arches made the grand auditorium space possible.  The Brickbuilder, August 1909, (copyright expired)

In November 1832 the trustees of the Oliver Street Baptist Church asked the William R. Williams to establish "a church for members living to the north and west."  Williams, whose father had been pastor of the Oliver Street church for years was ordained the following month and the project then got underway.

A section of the Oliver Street Baptist Church's burying ground on Amity Street (later West 3rd Street) was designated as the site and provided the name for the Amity Baptist Church.  After the congregation had worshiped in that Greek Revival style structure for more than three decades, millionaire Alexander T. Stewart purchased it in 1864 and converted it to a stable.   The congregation temporarily worshiped in a Young Men's Christian Association building, before buying the former chapel of St. Timothy's Episcopal Church on West 54th Street, between Eighth and Ninth Street, in 1866.

A charming wooden board-and-batten structure, the chapel building had been erected in 1860.  It sat within the impoverished and crime-ridden Hell's Kitchen neighborhood--a stark difference from Amity Baptist's politer Greenwich Village location.

The church responded to the special needs of the district.  By the end of the century it owned the plots from No. 306 through 312 West 54th Street, extending through the block to West 53rd Street.  A multi-use structure called the Amity Building was erected at No. 312.  Its meeting room was rented to groups like the citizens and architects who met twice a month in 1894 to discuss issues like "New-York's Houses" and "The Tenement Problem."  

The building also housed the West Side Fruit and Flower Mission, which provided help to the tenements.  On November 24, 1897 The New York Times reported that "the ladies in charge" of the mission "were busy yesterday distributing Thanksgiving food and delicacies to the poor of the west side...Many German and Spanish tenement dwellers were visited by them yesterday and their larders replenished.  Special care is being given to aged couples living alone and to widows."

The church also operated the Amity Settlement.  Its staff of medically-trained Deaconesses administered to the sick and poor in their squalid rooms.  On December 18, 1897 the Outlook commended Amity Baptist Church for being "the pioneer among American Baptist churches" in the settlement house movement.  And as part of the settlement house efforts, mothers and children were exposed to training and opportunities unavailable to them elsewhere.  The Amity Kindergarten was being run in the building at the turn of the century.

Early in 1905 the church received two legacies which totaled around $26,000--a windfall equal to about $765,000 today.  It caused Rev. Leighton Williams, the pastor and son of Rev. William Williams, to come up with two plans.  

First, the congregation commissioned the architectural firm of Rossiter & Wright to design a new, commodious structure.  Then Williams proposed to the town of Marlborough, New York, that the charming wooden church building be dismantled and reassembled in that village.   It could be used, he recommended, for the annual sessions of the Brotherhood of the Kingdom.  The Newburgh Register reported "Mr. Williams also suggested that such a hall would be non-sectarian, and that for Sunday school purposes it might meet a demand in the West Neighborhood."

Williams's aspirations went beyond what $26,000 could cover.  He would create a complex of new buildings.  But his political leanings proved a problem in raising additional funds.  The New York Herald in 1906 said that in addition to the church proper, planned construction included "an auditorium and a deaconesses' home and hospital."  The article went on to explain why "working men" donations were necessary to raise fund.

Christian socialism is realizing one of its ideals in the raising of $100,000 for the building of the new Amity Baptist Church and connected structures in West Fifty-fourth street by small subscriptions.  Owing to the radical view of the Rev. Dr. Leighton Williams, who is a socialist of the Fabian persuasion and a member of the Intercollegiate Socialistic Society, the church is to a large degree cut off from the receipt of funds which might come from the wealthy classes.

Rossiter & Wright filed plans for the brick and stone church, to cost $45,000, and for the five-story hospital, costing $38,000.  The Evening Telegram wrote "The new buildings are to be of gothic design and connected by a central tower, ornamented with large mullion bars."  The article noted that the church would have "a large dome in classic style."

It was that dome that led Rossiter & Wright to contract Raphael Guastavino, whose patented Tile Arch System of interlocking tiles was revolutionizing American architecture.  Extraordinarily strong, the arches and domes did away with the need for columns which interfered with vast spaces.

Ground was broken in July 1906.  On the 28th The Evening Post noted "the church will, it is expected, take some time to build...Services in the meantime are being conducted in Amity Hall."  The 1860 building had been already re-erected "as a union chapel" in Marlborough.

The church site sat between the Amity Building and the Deaconess' Home and Hospital.  The New York Times reported that it would be "modeled after the famous Mosque of St. Sophia."  On December 17, 1907, more than a year after construction had commenced, the cornerstone laying ceremonies were held.  Within the two-foot-square stone a brass box was placed.  The next morning when workmen arrived, it was noticed that bricks had been removed and the cornerstone tampered with.

The New York Times wrote "Hardly waiting for the mortar to set, an unidentified thief removed the cornerstone from the position in which it had been set for the new building of Amity Baptist Church...yesterday afternoon, and stole the box which had been deposited there."  The crook was disappointed when he pried it open, however.  Rev. Leighton Williams told reporters "I do not think much of the custom of placing money and such valuables in a cornerstone, so it was not done in this instances."  Therefore, instead of coins, the thief found only a copy of the church year book, a set of the plans, and several daily newspapers.

As construction neared completion the trustees ran out of money.  On October 3, 1908 a letter to the editor of The Evening Post from Rev. Leighton Williams  began "Sir:  The Amity Baptist Church, Nos. 310-312 West Fifty-fourth Street, Manhattan, is in urgent need of funds to carry on the building operations.  Its membership, while devoted, active and remarkably united, is weak financially and unable to furnish the amount necessary to complete the buildings project."


That inability was perhaps most noticeable on the exterior of the church.  While its interior was completed in October 1908, only the portico was finished outside.  Saying that the "design is developed from old Byzantine church architecture," The Architects' and Builders' Magazine promised that month that "further architectural emphasis will be added to the church."  Unfortunately, that would not happen.

The church building was situated unexpectedly far back on the plot between 54th and 53rd Streets, providing a vast piazza in front.  The elaborate two-story portico and balcony hinted at the architects' intentions for the general exterior.  None of the architectural magazines published photos of the outside of the church, Architecture & Building explaining "the exterior will not be seen with the exception of the entrance portico, [as] all architectural effort has been concentrated on the interior and the result is worthy of the effort."

The exotic decorations of the portico stood in stark contrast to the unadorned elevation of the main structure.  Architects' & Builders' magazine, October 1908 (copyright expired)

And, indeed, what the exterior lacked, Raphael Guastavino's interiors made up for.  A cavernous, uninterrupted space was made possible by his tile arch system.  Architect Charles Edwards remarked that no flammable materials had been used.  "All vaulting for the ceilings, domes and arches are of tile in natural terra cotta shade built on the Guastavino system.  No wood work enters the construction proper, even the floor is a fine terrazzo in tone to match the natural shades of the material from which the church is mainly constructed."

Even the pulpit and railing were executed in terra cotta.  Architects' & Builders' magazine, October 1908 (copyright expired)

The church was formally opened on December 13, 1908.  In announcing the dedication The New York Times reported "The new church building forms part of a big settlement equipment, which the Amity Church has established in the heart of the west side tenement district...It is of the Byzantine style of architecture, with a large dome like St. Paul's chapel at Columbia University."  The article added "The entire basement of the church will be utilized as a gymnasium and bowling alley.  These have not yet been equipped but soon will be."

The delay in equipping of the gymnasium was no doubt due to the lack of funding.  Over the coming years small steps would be taken to complete the building.  On April 17, 1909, for instance, The Evening Post reported "Amity Baptist Church has a new organ, the gift of Mrs. Washington Wilson...Another gift announced last Sunday was that of a window in memory of the Rev. George W. Hervey."

Its limited funds did not prevent Amity Baptist from continuing its social outreach.  The settlement house and deaconess programs went on.  And Leighton's liberal social views were reflected in concern for minorities and other groups in need.  The complex was the scene, for example, of the annual National Indian Association.  The group was concerned with the advancement of Native American rights.  

Architects' & Builders' magazine, October 1908 (copyright expired)

Nevertheless, it was most likely Leighton's ambitious building project and resultant over-extension of the congregation's finances that resulted in the selling of the complex in January 1913.  The New York Times reported on the scope of the real estate, engulfing Nos. 308 through 312 West 54th Street, and "running 200 feet through to Fifty-third Street."  The article noted "About $150,000 was involved in the transaction."

The stairway to the organ loft had treads and railings of terra cotta.   Architects' & Builders' magazine, October 1908 (copyright expired)

On January 25, 1913 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported the buyer as "a Greek Orthodox congregation."  That congregation was the Evangelismos Greek Orthodox Church.  

The architecture was, truthfully, more appropriate to a Greek Orthodox congregation than a Baptist church.  And the unfinished exterior of the building was rather suitable for the Greek congregation.  Its unadorned face was reminiscent of the white-stuccoed structures of the Grecian islands.  Raphael Guastavino's beige and brown brick and terra cotta interior, however, lacked the oomph expected in Greek Orthodox churches.   A remarkable renovation by artist Spiro Nicholas Rossolimo covered every square inch with colorful decoration.

A postcard depicted the redecorated interior.  photo via www.annunciation-nyc.org

While he worked on the project, Rossolimo and his wife lived in a studio in the former Amity Hall.  It was the scene of an impressive reception on March 29, 1919.  The New York Herald reported "A reception for Mgr. Alexandras Rodostolon, Archbishop of the Greek Church, was given by Mr. and Mrs. Spiro Nicholas Rossolimo in his studio at No. 312 West Fifty-fourth street on Saturday night."  

In attendance were the Consul General of France, Gaston Ernest Liébert; Consul Henri Goiran; the Consul of Haiti, Dr. Fanberg; and a profusion of titles including Countess Oleonta Cortina, Prince de Matta, and Baroness d'Etreilles.  The article noted "Mr. Rossolimo is at work on the decorations for the Church of the Orthodox Community 'Evangelimos,' which is situated next door to his studio."

The church supported a citizenship drive on May 1 which drew press attention.  The New York Evening World reported "To-day the Greek American National Union, Inc., will give a demonstration of mass naturalization when it brings in automobiles from the Greek Church at No. 312 West 54th Street to the Hall of Records to take out their first citizenship papers."  The article estimated than more than 200 "Greeks who have determined to become Americans" would participate.

On October 25, 1920 King Alexander of Greece succumbed to an infection caused by a monkey bite.  His death resulted in elections in November pitting monarchists against those who favored a republic.  The exiled King Constantine, Alexander's father, ran against Greek liberation leader Elefthérios Kyriákou Venizélos.  The latter lost.

The political ripple which traveled across the ocean arrived on West 54th Street on November 21 when a special service was celebrated by pastor Rev. Nickolas Lazarus "to celebrate the anticipated return of King Constantine."  The Philadelphia Inquirer reported the following day, "The Thanksgiving ceremony in the Greek Orthodox Church of Evangelismos ended in a riot when Constantino Momas and his wife, Anastadia, arose and shouted 'Hurrah for Venizelos.'"  The article explained, "All went smoothly until, as the congregation was walking out, Momas and his wife could restrain their feelings no longer."  Their shouts incited a rush of Constantine supporters who knocked Momas to the ground.  In the meantime, "women surrounded the wife who had dared to shout her loyalty to the defeated Greek leader."

Hearing the commotion, Policeman George Hirsch "fought his way to the badly used up Momas and with brandishing night stick managed to drive the crowd back.  He dragged the mob's victim to the parish home next door to the church.  The wife, now let alone by the mob of women, followed."  By now, said the article, "Momas had been beaten and knocked down several times.  His clothing and his wife's had been torn."   When Patrolman Hirsch returned to the scene to arrest the attackers, "all he found was a peaceful congregation walking home from worship.  He made no arrests."

The following year the church leased a floor in the Amity Building to Nicholas Roerich and Maurice Lichtman for their anticipated Master School of United Arts.  Chartered on November 17, 1921, it would offer musical classes in violin, cello, piano, composition and voice; as well as art courses in painting and drawing.

Opening night was on January 22, 1922.  Among the guests was Russian composer Sergei Sergeyevich Prokofiev.  Beginning that March a series of fund-raising concerts were held here.  

In 1932, nearly three decades after construction, the exterior was still unfinished.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Then, on November 15, 1937 The New York Sun reported that the city had purchased the church properties, and hired architect Byron P. Wilson to design a "new police station, prison and garage on the site."  It signaled the end of one of Raphael Guastavino's grandest internal spaces.

photo via livingnewdeal.org

many thanks to reader Doug Wheeler for prompting this post.

The Albert Lilienthal House - 126 West 78th Street

The Upper West Side was rapidly developing in 1881 when Rafael Guastavino arrived in New York City from Spain.  An accomplished architect trained in Barcelona, he was fascinated with the Catalan vault—a gently curved structure veneered with brick or tile.

His improved Guastavino Arch, widely touted for its fireproof qualities and noteworthy strength, would make him famous.  But while he perfected the process, he accepted architectural commissions.  In 1885, the same year he patented his “Tile Arch System,” he started work on a row of six townhouses on the north side of West 78^th Street between Amsterdam and Columbus Avenues for developer Bernard S. Levy.

Levy apparently was pleased with the architect’s Moorish Revival confections.  In January 1886 Guastavino filed plans for nine more homes on the opposite side of the street—Nos. 118 through 134.  Levy’s creative toying with the dimensions of the lots must have provided his architect with a challenge.

The Record & Guide reported on January 30 that six of the houses would be 16 feet wide and the remaining three would be 19, 18 and 17 feet in width.  As he had done the year before, Rafael Guastavino turned to a blend of the Moorish Revival and Renaissance Revival styles for the row (although the Real Estate Record & Guide preferred to call the style “Spanish Renaissance).  The mirror-image row was designed in a complicated A-B-C-A-D-A-C-B-A configuration.

No. 126 was one of the 19-foot-wide houses.  Like its neighbors it rose four stories above the very high English basement.  A dog-legged stoop led to the parlor floor, the rusticated face of which was nearly lost behind the complex treatment of the openings.  Abutting architrave frames formed little Moorish arches between the windows and the entrance.  The grouped openings of the second floor were fronted by two engaged columns under a fringe of Moorish arches--creating the illusion of a recessed arcade, or balcony.  Another exotic arcade graced the topmost floor.

On June 11 1887 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that Levy had sold the house "to a private family" for $35,000--just under $1 million today.  The buyer was Albert Lilienthal and his wife, the former Alice Meyer.   

Alice decorated her new home in the latest of fashion.  The first floor level was filled with Louis XV, Louis XIV and Louis XI period antiques and reproductions, all in ivory and gold.  Cabinets held her collections of lace fans, Russian and Limoges enamels, and early English and Dutch silver pieces.

The music room followed suit.  There was a Steinway & Sons small grand piano with a white mahogany case, a Steinway upright with a matching case, and a Mason & Hamlin parlor organ, also in white mahogany.  The dining room suite was different, all in antique, hand-carved oak.  Alice's English silverware dated from the Queen Anne and Elizabethan periods and included solid silver coffee and tea sets.

Lilienthal was a partner with his brother Philip in Lilienthal Brothers, described by The Otsego Farmer of Cooperstown, New York years later as "one of the oldest and largest in the hop business in the world."  The article noted "Albert Lilienthal, the well known hop operator and manipulator...brought the firm to its present standing."

Albert quickly involved himself in the developing Upper West Side community.  He was a founder of The West End Club, incorporated in October 1889, the goal of which, according to The New York Times, was "to promote intercourse among members and provide a clubhouse."

His prominence in the hop industry was seen in December 1890 when the Hop Dealers' Exchange was incorporated in an effort to "bring the hop producers into close relation with the hop sellers."  The New York Times reported "Albert Lilienthal is President of the new Hop Exchange."

In the meantime, Alice busied herself with causes, like the Great Hebrew Fair in Madison Square Garden in December 1895.  The Times said that never before "had such a vast fair in all details ever been held in this or any building heretofore in this city.

It would seem that Alice was most comfortable conversing in her native language.  The several help wanted ads throughout this period routinely requested "German," or at least "German-speaking."  And it appears she expected her servants to work hard.  An advertisement in the New York Journal and Advertiser on December 11, 1899 emphasized that the "chambermaid, waitress, laundress" she for whom she was looking should be a "strong girl."

After 19 years in the house, the Lilienthal's put it on the market in November 1906 with an asking price of $35,000; the same price they paid for it.  Whatever the reason for leaving, the family intended to take nothing with them.  An auction of the entire contents of the "sumptuously furnished residence of Albert Lilienthal, Esq." was held in the house on November 26.  Included were all the furnishings, about 70 oil paintings "of great merit," and the Alice's silver and crystal.  

The auction announcement noted that "the furniture, the walls and the floor coverings, decorations and bric-a-brac, cost a large sum of money, the furniture from the best cabinet makers from abroad and at home."  The vast collection of artwork, it said, was "chosen by a connoisseur."

Two days before the auction Hugo Meyer and his wife, Bella, purchased the house.   At the time well-to-do homeowners were remodeling architecturally passé houses into modern American basement style residences (doing away with the tall stoops).  Hugo and Bella set out to do just that.

On January 18, 1907 The Evening Post reported that "Plans have been filed for remodelling the 4-story and basement residence at No. 126 West 78th st., owned by Henry Meyer.  It is to have a new facade of brownstone, with a central entrance, and a foyer hall, and new ornamental windows, and a decorative gate and railing.  The improvements are to cost $19,000."  But for whatever reason, those plans never went forward and the architectural continuity of Guastavino's romantic row was preserved.

Hugo Meyer had gone into business in 1884 importing silks and woolens.  In January 1890 he brought his brother, Felix into the firm, forming Hugo Meyer & Co.   The firm imported silks and woolens, as well as representing domestic manufacturers.

When Felix's wife, Nellie died in March 1913, her funeral was held in the 78th Street house.  Interestingly, in reporting on the location, The New York Herald called it "the residence of Mrs. Hugo Meyer."

Hugo and Felix were additionally involved in real estate, both separately and together.  They wheeled and dealt in properties not only in Manhattan, but Brooklyn.  But by 1915 they had formed a surprising enterprise.--the Karczag Publishing Co., Inc.  

The firm was the U. S. representative of music and play publisher W. Karczag of Vienna, Austria.  The Meyers contracted with major theater owners, like the Shubert Company, to stage the Karczag works.

Composer Franz Lehár was one of Karczag's most important draws.  

Hugo Meyer leased No. 126 in January 1916 to David W. and Ora N. Childress.  They almost immediately sublet it to Shirli Rives, described by the Sacramento Union as "a prima donna who is famous in musical comedy."  By now, Rives had branched out into vaudeville and found the popular vehicle so profitable that she commissioned Edgar Allen Woolf to write The Song of the Heart for her.

Shortly after moving into the 78th Street house she appeared in a vaudeville performance at the Colonial Theatre.  Also on the program was the minstrel act of Lillian Boardman and Frank Hurse, the Four Meyakos, the Primrose Four, the Oxford Trio and other acts.

By the Depression years No. 126 was owned by Anna and Walter C. Ferguson.  It was still a private home when they leased it in April 1931 to Esther Esser.  She sublet a portion of the house to the Pulaski Society as its club rooms.  

On December 11, 1932 The New York Times reported that the club's secretary, Bronislaus Gliwa "is compiling a list of books in English dealing in one way or another with Poland.  The books may be fiction or non-fiction, they may be translations from the Polish, or they may have their settings in Poland."  Gliwa was asking for help from readers of the newspaper in compiling the list.

The Pulaski Society annually celebrated September 12 as a holiday honoring the "relief of Vienna."  But 1933 was a special year, the 250th anniversary of the event.  On August 28 a meeting was held "to lay plans for the celebration," according to The Sun.  The article explained "On September 12, 1683, King Jan Sobiesky of Poland drove back the Turks and Tartars from Vienna, finally breaking their power as thoroughly on land as Don John of Austria broke it on the sea."

Within the next decade No. 126 was being operated as a rooming house.  Josef Weizenberg was renting here when he earned his dental license on July 23, 1943.  And following the end of World War II Seaman Second Class Eric Godefroi took a room.  

On April 21, 1946 the United States Navy took advantage of the Easter Parade crowds to recruit.  The New York Times reported "The Navy seized the opportunity yesterday in the Easter fashion parade to show its new uniforms for enlisted personnel when three sailors from a recruiting station took posts at Fifth Avenue and Fiftieth Street.  Accompanied by three models in Easter finery, the men were in sharp contrast with sailors still wearing the old-style uniform."  Among the three was Eric Godefroi, who modeled "dress whites, consisting of straight trousers, civilian-style shirt, black tie and the old-style Navy cap."

Change came in 1968 when No. 126 was converted to a triplex in the basement through second floors, and one apartment each on the third and fourth.  Outwardly, other than replacement windows, little has changed since the Lilienthals moved in in 1887.

photographs by the author

The Ever-Changing 746 Madison Avenue

Separate side doorways, topped with elegant Federal urns, lead to the upstairs spaces -- photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWBT0PXC&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

On March 4, 1884 The New York Times casually reported that “The congregation B’nai Jeshurun has purchased from Newman Cowen a piece of property on the west side of Madison-avenue, about 25 feet south of Sixty-fifth-street, being about 75 feet on the avenue, for $75,000.”

Incorporated in 1823, the group was the second oldest Jewish congregation in New York.  Since 1864 it had worshiped on 34^th Street, near Sixth Avenue; but now its 20-year lease on the land was about to expire.  The development of the Madison Avenue neighborhood as a fashionable address was reflected in the price the congregation paid for the land—just under $2 million today.

Congregation B’nai Jeshurun commissioned the architectural firm of Schwarzmann & Buchman to design the new synagogue.  The choice of architectural styles had posed a problem for synagogue designers for decades.  Gothic Revival was heavily used for Christian churches, while Greek Revival smacked of a tradition of pagan worship.  Moorish Revival, however, harkened back to the pre-Inquisition days when Jews enjoyed relative freedom in Spain.

Joining forces with Rafael Guastavino, the architects combined Moorish with a splash of Byzantine.  Guastavino, who had arrived in America eight years earlier from Spain, had already earned a reputation for his arched construction process of interlocking terra cotta tiles known as the “Guastavino Tile Arch System.”   

The building was completed the following year and on March 25, 1885 was dedicated.  With a seating capacity of 1,000 and costing $200,000, it was the second largest synagogue in the city.  It was partly constructed of materials from the 34^th Street structure.  “The old building was taken down and the stone and brick used in the construction of the fine new building now dedicated,” reported The New York Times.

The newspaper said “The interior of the new synagogue was modeled after the first synagogue erected in Europe, at Toledo, Spain, and is in the style of the Spanish Renaissance.  The front, which is of Philadelphia brick and stone, is of the Byzantine style, with Moorish combinations and with a portico in the Moorish style.”

As the century drew to a close and the neighborhood continued to draw millionaires, the congregation found itself in a face-to-face battle with one of the wealthiest—John Jacob Astor.  In 1894 Astor began plans for his private carriage house and stable on the southwest corner of Madison Avenue and 65^th Street, directly next to the synagogue.  In April Congregation B’nai Jeshurun joined other neighbors in a legal battle against Astor.

The judge was told that “it is contended that Mr. Astor is invading [the synagogue’s] rights, that bad an unwholesome odors will be wafted into the synagogue if the stable is completed, and that the neighing and stamping of the horses will interfere with the religious services.”  The congregation also contended that a stable would lower the property value of the temple by one-fifth.

Astor’s carriage house was erected elsewhere.

Congregation B’nai Jeshurun worshiped in its exotic building for three decades before deciding to move to the Upper West Side.  On January 9, 1916 its intentions to sell the Madison Avenue building to the Alliance Realty Company were announced and four months later The New York Times reported that “Madison Avenue is about to lose one of its most imposing religious structures in the demolition within a few weeks of the synagogue of the Congregation B’Nai Jeshurun.”

Alliance Realty Company, which had paid $165,000 for the synagogue, announced that “On the site of the interesting building will be erected a two or three story taxpayer, with stores on the ground floor and small apartment son the upper floors.”

But someplace along the way there was a change of heart.  Instead of demolishing the building, the new owners restyled it.  The architectural firm of Rouse & Goldstone was hired to transform the Moorish duckling into a Federal swan.  When they were done a year later the synagogue was unrecognizable; its façade replaced by a prim Colonial-inspired commercial front.

Surrounding the two-story cast iron expanse of shop windows was red brick laid in a diamond pattern.  Eight-over-eight paned windows on the third floor, capped with splayed stone lintels, sat within arches.  Three tall dormers sat above the deeply-overhanging cornice.  Not all of the old building was gone, though.  To the rear the old synagogue sanctuary survived.  The Sun reported on November 4, 1917 “The rear end of the structure was not affected by the changes.”  Called the Assembly Hall,  it was 50 feet in length and 75 feet side and, according to The Sun, “about three stories high.”

By November 1917 construction was completed and tenants began moving in.  Dr. I. S. Hirsch took one of the front “studios,” as did J. C. Work.  The Clausen Art Rooms moved into one of the large street level retail spaces, offering “Paintings, Engravings, Etchings, Art, Mirrors, Picture Frames, Unique Lamps, Decorations.”

The main commercial entrance was a combination of elegant Federal motifs cast in iron.

It was the lease of the Assembly Hall that drew the most attention.  On November 4, The New York Times noted “The Alliance Realty Company has leased to Helen Moller as a dancing studio the hall in the old Synagogue building at 746 Madison Avenue, which has been remodeled.”  The same day The Sun reported on the lease, calling Helen Moller “the young American woman who has aroused considerable interest in classical dancing.”  It added “Her studio is an interesting one and perhaps is the only one of its kind…The galleries along the side of the building have been turned into rooms and offices for the use of Miss Moller’s  school.  Some of the gallery rooms will be used for private instruction.”

The newspaper said “The lease by Miss Moller will have an important bearing on the rental value of the block, according to real estate men.”  In fact, however, it was not Helen who signed the lease on the soaring space.  According to The Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide it was rented by “Robert A. Pool, for a dancing academy.” 

Robert Albert Poole was, as described by The New York Times, a “wealthy English engineer.”  He had married his wife, Edna, in London in 1898.  Now living in New York, he was president of the Mediterranean Trading Company at 29 Broadway.   And since around 1913 he was quite involved with Helen Moller.  It was an arrangement that would soon become messy.

Exquisite, fine detailing went into the two-story cast iron front.

But in the meantime Helen went about teaching her progressive form of classical dance—mostly done barefoot—and promoting her artistic reputation.  Her great break came in February 1918 when she “and her ensemble of fifty young dancers” were scheduled to appear at the Metropolitan Opera House, accompanied by the Orchestral Society of New York.

The matinee performance went on stage on February 25 to the delight and horror of the Edwardian audience.  Helen called her studio--somewhat blasphemously considering the building’s history--“Helen Moller’s Temple;” and so in reporting on the performance The New York Times called the dancers “Helen Moller’s Young Temple Girls.”  But it was the girls’ costumes, or lack of them, that drew critical attention.

“A large audience applauded many times, and, at other moments hissed, as audiences here do rarely, to express varying views of the public exhibition of so much ‘nature’ in visible forms,” reported The New York Times.  “The idea was not new, however, and from the point of view of row AA it could be denied that the dancers appeared more than casually or instantaneously nude.”

Helen defended the near-nudity of her dancers—all under 16 years of age.  “According to pure Greek art as shown by its statuary, mostly of the dance, there is nothing ‘nude’ in the nude, but, on the contrary, it expresses the most beautiful conceptions in nature”

Mayor Hylan apparently disagreed and on March 13 instructed Police Commissioner Enright “to see to it that no such exhibition as was recently given by Miss Helen Moller, the dancer, in her interpretation of Sibelius’s ‘Valse Triste,’ be repeated.”  The New-York Tribune reported that Hyland said, in part, “This young woman claimed to have appeared in the name of art, but most people believe it was an indecent performance.”

Although Helen had hired the Metropolitan Opera house independently and had “even provided a new stage carpet at high cost for her fifty young dancers’ bare feet,” according to The New York Times, the Met stockholders canceled her second scheduled performance.  Instead, the act was moved to Carnegie Hall on March 11 with what The New York Times called “somewhat more of drapery and less startling effects of light.”

Later that year Helen purchased the country estate of Archibald Harrison in Mount Kisco, New York.  She announced that “she plans to build an open-air theatre modeled along the lines of the ancient Greek theatres,” reported The New York Times.   By now she was introducing herself, non-professionally, as Mrs. Robert Poole, and a year later, in November, little Robert Alfred Poole, Jr. would be born.

The problem was that Edna W. Poole was still in the picture.  It was not until September 1920 that Edna was granted a divorce, naming Helen Moller as correspondent.  “The dancer asserted at the time that she and Poole had gone through a form of marriage,” said The New York Times.

The New York Herald dredged up the earlier Metropolitan Opera sensation.  “Miss Helen Moller, the classic dancer, who attracted attention back in February, 1918, when she flitted across the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House garbed in a smile and little more, was named correspondent.” it said.

While the scandal played out, a far less controversial tenant was operating in the front of the Madison Avenue building.  Anna E. Chaires ran Miss Chaires’ Outdoor School on the second floor.  She described the facility in 1920 as “A school that adapts its methods of instruction to the mental processes and play instincts of the child.”  Teaching kindergarten through elementary grades, she described the school as “Delightful sunny rooms, perfectly equipped” and added “Some part of each day’s schooling is given out of doors, except when weather conditions are prohibitive.”

Anna Chaires also ran The Good Times Club for her pupils, “an afternoon recreation group in which the play is happier and more beneficial because guided by sympathetic teachers.”

On June 25, 1921 The Evening World reported on Anna Chaires’ Camp Tallahassee, a summer camp in Southampton Long Island for well-to-do girls aged 16 to 21   She stressed to the reporter that girls in her camp “are going to be REFINED and only do the things ‘Nice People’ do.”

“And in order to be sure these flappers will not flap Miss Chaires has laid down [a] set of fines to be paid for certain so-called misdemeanors of the camp.  Insisting that the modern girl “is going too far,” Anna Chaires published the list of violations:

    $1.00 per damn

    .50 for every slang word

    1.00     for every cigarette

    1.00 for skirts which are not six inches below knee

    1.00 for rolling stockings to sock size

    1.00 for high French heels

    .50 for baby French heels

    1.00 for calling a man on the telephone (provided he is not dad, granddad uncle or brother)

    1.00 for indulging in petting parties

    1.00 for jazzing, shimmying or whistling.

The money went into a scholarship fund for the girls at the subsequent season’s camp.

The Evening World described Anna as “a round-faced, plump, little woman of middle age,”  She told the newspaper “Girls are getting more jazzy, more unconventional and more shocking every day.”  And she intended that a summer at Camp Tallahassee prompt the girls “to dance decently, to use good English, to refrain from the popular slang, quit saying damn (and worse than that), to stop smoking cigarettes and doing all these wild things we hear about.”

Other tenants in the building at the time were a lighting shop and, starting in 1930, the Madison Clock Shop which had been further down Madison Avenue for 22 years.

In April 1937 plans were filed by the owner, First National Realty Corp., “for alterations,” estimated to cost $65,000.  Architect Kenneth B. Nortan had been hired to reduce the building from three to two stories.  Schwarzmann & Buchman’s handsome neo-Federal top floor with its dormers and arches was to be shorn off.

As work neared completion nearly a year later in February, tragedy struck.  Fifty-year old laborer Frank Chichka fell from a scaffold on the second floor, fracturing his skull on the pavement below.  He died in New York Hospital on February 26.

Four months later, on June 18, 1938 the renovated structure was officially completed.  The New York Times reported “the size of the building has been reduced to two stories and it now contains five stores with showrooms above.”  The newspaper said that Norton “has harmonized the original white-columned Colonial front with new bronze show windows.”

Among the first tenants was the upscale furrier, Samuel Wilentz.  Then, as the United States was drawn into World War II, the building became headquarters for the New York City Women’s Council of the Navy League of the United States.  The group with the cumbersome name opened a gift shop, named “Anchors Aweigh,” here stocked with art objects and other items contributed by New Yorkers.  A workroom on the second floor was used for the sewing of clothes for the children of enlisted Navy men.

In 1943, a year after the shop and workroom were opened, the group initiated the Navy League Kitchen Cupboard Shop in the building.  Here New York housewives could purchase “non-rationed foods and labor-saving kitchen devices for the maidless household.”  Proceeds were used for the sewing and repairing of garments for the Navy Relief Society.

Among the non-rationed foodstuffs women could purchase here were “dehydrated tomato paste and tomato cocktails, bouillon paste, a brand of ‘real’ pulverized coffee, a piquant sauce to replace chili sauce and mustard honey to be used in lieu of mustard,” reported The New York Times.

Following the war the street level became home to the Far Gallery—and upscale art gallery that would remain a Madison Avenue fixture until 1972.  It was replaced by La Goulue, a brasserie with a Parisian décor that lured a broad range of celebrated customers including Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Catherine Deneuve, Oscar de la Renta, Bruce Springsteen, Sigourney Weaver, Ashley Judd, Jude Law and Giorgio Armani.

In 2008 the New York Landmarks Preservation Commission held a hearing on a proposal by the owners of 746 Madison Avenue to demolish the building.  The proposed design by Page Ayres Cowley would save the two-story cast iron storefront, plastering it onto a 14-story mixed use building.

The Landmarks Preservation Society heard arguments for and against the proposed mutilation -- cityrealty.com January 23, 2008

The Municipal Art Society of New York testified against the proposal, saying in part “While the applicants may claim this is not a demolition, it clearly is.  While they plan to restore and retain the very significant cast iron storefront, it will be used as an architectural remnant applied to a new building.”

Preservationists and developers eventually met in the middle.  The amazing metamorphosis of the 1885 synagogue to 1917 Federal commercial structure to 1938 two-story store would have one more chapter.  The 1936 façade, including the diamond-pattern brickwork and side entrance doors were preserved, the open areas flanking the second floor filled in, and three stories rather than 12 erected above and behind.  The architects tried to be sympathetic--mimicking the overlights of the side doors on the upper story windows and adding a reasonably historic-looking cornice.

All in all what remains of 746 Madison Avenue is a sad, if elegant, patch of a once-charming structure.

uncredited photographs taken by the author

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