The SPCC Building - 295 Park Avenue South

 

Henry Bergh was an impassioned reformer who caused the closure of Christopher Burns's notorious Sportsmen's Hall in 1870, and berated the wax figures of the Eden Musee on West 23rd Street as "demoralizing."  The highly-publicized case of an orphan girl in April 1874 prompted Bergh to establish a protective agency for children.  With attorney Elbridge T. Gerry and philanthropist John D. Wright, he founded the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children that year.  Its announced mission was "to respond to the complex needs of abused and neglected children, and those involved in their care, by providing best practice counseling, legal, and educational services."

On March 30, 1880 the society purchased the four-story brownstone house at the southeast corner of 23rd Street and Fourth Avenue (later Park Avenue South), from Henry G. Davis for $43,000--just over $1 million in 2022.  It served as the society's offices and temporary housing for abused or abandoned children.  Eight years later, on April 14, 1888, the Real Estate Record & Guide reported that the society had purchased the house next door, at 102 East 23rd Street, for $45,000.  Builder G. W. Patterson was hired to "alter walls" in the two former residences.

But even the expanded facilities were quickly outgrown.  In 1889 the Gerry Society, as it had become known to most New Yorkers, had "received and investigated 6,802 complaints, prosecuted 2,364 cases, and secured 2,331 convictions, while 3,271 children were rescued and relieved," according to The New York Times on February 5, 1890.  Those children were temporarily housed in the East 23rd Street houses.

Being "rescued and relieved" was, in itself, not necessarily pleasant.  The New York Times explained that of those 3,271 children:

...22 were provided with houses or situations [i.e., work as domestics], 167 who had been lost or stolen were restored to parents or guardians, 126 were sent to the American Female Guardian Society, 215 to the hospital and nursery on Randall's Island, 130 to the Dominican Convent, 105 to the Five Points House of Industry, 302 to the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin, 328 to the Missionary Sisters, 506 to the New-York Catholic Protectory, 300 to the New-York Juvenile Asylum, 192 to St. Joseph's Asylum, 82 to the Society for the Reformation of Juvenile Delinquents, 140 to the Hebrew Sheltering Guardian Society, 26 to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, and others to various institutions.

On February 20, 1892, the society's building committee approved the plans submitted by Renwick, Aspinwall & Renwick for a substantial building on the site of the brownstones.  Construction began on April 1 and was completed before the end of the year at a cost of $200,000 (about $6.14 million today).  Engulfing the footprint of the two houses and rear yards, it ran 50 feet along West 23rd Street and 100 feet on Fourth Avenue, where the main entrance would be located.

The architects gave the Renaissance Revival style building a two-story base of "Westerly granite," as described by The New York Times.  The upper four floors were clad in buff colored Roman brick.  The New York Times explained, "The whole building will be extremely plain on the outside, with the idea of saving as much as possible of the building fund for securing interior conveniences and the latest modern appliances."  Among those conveniences were two elevators--a passenger and a freight.

A store for extra income was installed on the 23rd Street corner.  On the ground floor was a reception room "for persons making complaints or seeking information," baths and receiving rooms for arriving children, and the offices.  The entire second floor was "given up to the Superintendent and matron," according to The New York Times on February 21, 1892.  "Here they will have their parlor and living rooms."  The third floor held the dining room (with seating for 100), and play areas, "so arranged that folding doors can shut off the more depraved and vicious from the as yet innocent little ones."

The original plans had called for a six-story structure, but during construction two additional floors were added.  Now the girls' dormitory occupied the fourth floor, and the boys' was on the fifth.  Also on the fifth floor would be the infirmary.  The top floor held the kitchen, laundry, servants' quarters and storerooms.  The roof was partially covered to provide for a playground.

The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children not only received abused and abandoned youths, but delinquents.  The New York Times noted, "All the children arrested in the city for one cause or another will then be given over to its charge."  The new building could accommodate the temporary housing of 125 children.

King's Handbook of New York City, 1893 (copyright expired)

A concession to the "extremely plain" facade, as originally projected by The New York Times, were the handsome terra cotta plaques on the seventh floor.  Those at the corners and ends depict young girls, encircled by wreaths.  The others are of figure-eight-shaped garlands.

photo by Beyond My Ken

The dismal lives of the children were brightened twice a year, on Christmas and Thanksgiving.  The society depended greatly on donations, and was supported by several women of high social standing.  Among those in charge of arranging the Thanksgiving dinner of 1917 were Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, Sr., Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, Jr., Mrs. Mortimer L. Schiff, Miss Mary Choate and Mrs. Robert L. Gerry.  Given the massive fortunes of those families, it may have surprised subscribers of The Evening Post to read on November 28, "Children in the custody of the Children's Society will have a chicken dinner tomorrow in the Society's rooms...For the first time in years it was decided, because of the high price of turkey, to substitute chicken for turkey."

In December 1919 the financial secretary, E. J. Craine, explained to a journalist from the New-York Tribune, "In their short lives Christmas has meant almost nothing to these little ones.  Few of them have either father or mother; their homes have been cold and sordid, and many of them will carry all their lives scars from the cruel and inhuman treatment they have suffered.  They cannot know the joy, on a Christmas morning, of rushing breathless in nightclothes to see the wonderous gifts left in their stockings by a loving Santa Claus."

Most of the destitute waifs had never received a Christmas present nor seen a Christmas tree other than through a window.  On December 20, 1915, The New York Press reported on the upcoming Christmas party at the society.  "Santa Claus has sent word he is coming, and a big tree, lighted with electric lights will be waiting for him.  He will bring something for every child...There will also be a magician, a Punch and Judy show and other entertainments for the youngsters."

A mailbox had been set up in the shelter marked "Mail For Santa Claus."  On December 21, 200 letters were taken out for New Yorkers to read and fulfill the little writers' wishes.  The New-York Tribune printed a few.  Among them was:

Dear Santa Claus:  I have neither father nor mother and have been in an orphan asylum for the most part of my life.  I have heard that you will be around in a few weeks.  I love music and would like to have a clarinet, and do please remember that orphan asylum with some toys or some treat that always makes us so happy.  Sam.

Another boy did not ask for himself, but only for something for his sister.  "I would like you to bring my sister a doll.  Hoping to receive the doll, I remain, yours sincerely, John."

In 1920 a new general manager, Colonel Ernest K. Coulter was put in charge.  Among his first acts was to sell the $4 million building in July to the American Linseed Co.  The Record & Guide reported, "The expansion of the society's work requires enlarged accommodations, and the society will erect a new building for its own use in the neighborhood of the Children's Court."  Coulter's actions caused extreme friction among the officers, including some of its wealthiest supporters.

On November 10, 1920, The New York Times reported that the tensions, "which started with a skirmish several months ago over the sale of the old society home...has become more intense over some of the details of management."  At a meeting the previous day, seven women resigned, including Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, Jr., Mrs. Mortimer L. Schiff, Mrs. George Nichols, and Mrs. J. Nelson Borland.

The American Linseed Company hired the architectural firm of M. L. & G. H. Emery to convert the building into offices.  The extensive renovations cost the firm the equivalent of $1.2 million today.  American Linseed Company did not move into its building, but leased space to various organizations, like the American Association for Organizing Family Social Work, and the Woolen and Dress Goods Merchants Association.

In 1930 United Charities, whose headquarters engulfed the southern half of the block, purchased the building.  On March 12, The New York Sun reported, "United Charities now controls the entire east block front of Fourth Avenue from Twenty-second to Twenty-third street."

The structure now filled with agencies like the Council for Women for Home Missions, and the Church Committee on Overseas Relief.  One Depression era tenant, the New York Emergency Unemployment Relief Bureau, got more than its fair share of publicity.  The facility was formed to "end the misery of the unemployed."  But that goal was not so easy to reach.

In January 1931 applicants received a two-line notice from the Bureau that read:

Dear Sirs:  The Emergency Work Bureau has over 24,000 men at work.  We have reached our quota, and regretfully send notice to all men registered with us that no more jobs can be given either now or later. 

 

                Yours truly, Raymond W. Houston

The notice prompted a demonstration in front of the building on February 10.

Another demonstration was held in January 1933 when members of one group realized that the Emergency Relief Bureau catered only to whites.  On January 6, The Daily Worker reported, "Six Negroes were granted $10 cash relief immediately and promised jobs in the near future, as a result of a demonstration of the Needle Trades Unemployment Council before the Emergency Relief Bureau at 297 Fourth Avenue."

Throughout the 1940's the building was home to several religious-based groups, like the World Council of Churches, and the Federal Council of Churches.  In 1950 Fourth Avenue was renamed Park Avenue South.  The 1960's saw the National Cystic Fibrosis Research headquarters and the Association for Homemaker Service, Inc. move in.  The latter was a non-profit agency that placed "homemakers" with families.  On February 23, 1963, for instance, the Amsterdam News noted, "Two weeks after it started, it had two homemakers in two homes fulfilling the role of the mothers in these families, both mothers being confined at the hospital."

By the early 1970's, the building was known as the Social Service Exchange Building.  In March 1973 the newly-formed Council On Economic Development and Empowerment for Black People took space, and in 1976 the Commission for Racial Justice had offices here.

Change came in 1983 when the upper floors were converted to residential space.  The building, now known as Park 23, took the new address of 275 Park Avenue South and contains 179 rental apartments.

photograph by the author

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The 1891 Beverwyck Hotel - 39-41 West 27th Street

Interestingly, on June 11, 1892 The Real Estate Record & Guide named the architects of the Beverwyck Hotel, at Nos. 39-41 West 27th Street as Renwick, Aspinwall & Renwick.  But the firm was still listed as Renwick, Aspinwall & Russell at the time and would not officially change its name until around 1895.  The building, construction of which had begun in 1890 and was completed in 1891, seems to have been a family project.  Title was originally in the name of "S. Renwick and others."  (Exactly who S. Renwick was is unclear.)

The concept of the bachelor hotel had taken root in New York City by the last decade of the 19th century.  They provided unmarried men a respectable home with no concerns about housekeeping or meals.  In The Beverwyck Bachelors' Apartments the architects had created a seven-story Renaissance Revival structure of brick and brownstone, embellished with terra cotta.

The alternating bands of planar and undressed stone of the two story base is rather unusual--creating the look of a sheet of corrugated cardboard.  The space between the large arched entrance and its cornice most likely accommodated a hood or marquee.

Above, five brick-clad stories were separated into three sections by projecting stringcourses.   Fenestration was treated separately at each section.   The paired openings of the third and fourth floors shared frames decorated with delicate Renaissance details.  The sixth floor arched openings completed, visually, the two-story arrangement of the windows of the fifth.   At the topmost floor it was the spandrel panels, not the windows, which drew focus with their blind terra cotta frames.  Above was a deeply-overhanging cornice.

The building's super, James Thatcher, was perhaps a surprising choice, given the upscale tenor of the residents.  On June 6, 1894 The Evening World mentioned that Thatcher, "superintendent of the bachelors' apartments at 41 Wesrt Twenty-seventh street...formerly kept a saloon" at 177th Street and Third Avenue.  

Typical of the Berwyck Hotel's residents was stock broker William G. Street, of Street & Norton, who moved in in 1897.  He held memberships to exclusive clubs like the Manhattan, Lambs, Metropolitan, Union, Lotos and Knickerbocker Clubs, among others.  

George B. Hulme, too, reflected the social prominence of the tenants.  A director in the Insurance Exchange, in 1899 The New York Times referred to his "famous string of coach horses."  His thoroughbreds routinely participated in the fashionable New York Horse Show.

On June 17, 1899 the Record & Guide reported that "W[illiam W.] Renwick, late of the firm of Renwick, Aspinwall & Owen, has opened an office at Nos. 39 and 41 West 27th st."  It was possibly at this time that Renwick took over management of the property.

Less visible in society than Street and Hulme, although no less wealthy, was Francis N. Zabriskie.  A graduate of Princeton University, The Times said he "had no profession, but lived the life of a gentleman of leisure."  His family's estate had earlier been purchased by the city to become part of Claremont Park.  Although he had studied medicine at the College of Physicians and Surgeons, "he soon grew tired of serious work and became a man about town."  

The term was a bit unfair.  Zabriskie's brother described him as "a very reticent and quiet young man."  Rather than society dinners and dances, he preferred the theater and athletics.  His Beverwyck apartment was filled with "a lot of fishing rods, a double-barreled shotgun, tennis rackets, and other sporting implements."  He was most often seen with his closest friend, Edward Madden.

In 1901 the 27-year-old somehow met Lillian B. Robinson, the widow of a wealthy Chicago tailor.  She reportedly was in New York to visit relatives and was staying uptown.  Before long Zabriskie became "devoted" to the attractive woman who spurned his attentions.

Lillian Robinson's rejection was nearly too much for the young man to handle.  The New York Times reported that at one point he was "on the verge of killing himself on account of her neglect of him."  His serious depression increased when he read the newspapers on March 23, 1901.  The Times began an article saying "Mystery surrounds the death of a woman, supposed to be Mrs. Lillian B. Robinson, who was found dead in bed yesterday morning."  The 28-year old had poisoned herself.

Zabriskie became, as reported in the New-York Tribune, "sullen and despondent."  And so on Saturday night, March 31, Edward Madden arranged an outing to Koster & Bial's Music Hall with two women to help his friend forget his troubles.  But instead, as the performance went on his mood worsened.  "When he left the party the others noticed that he was in a wildly nervous condition," said the newspaper.

The following afternoon Zabriskie briefly left the Beverwyck, then "hastened to his rooms," on his return.  At 5:15 Madden dropped by to check on him.  "A minute later he rushed out, and the elevator man heard him cry: 'Frank's killed himself.  Get a doctor.'"

The body of Frank Zabriskie was on the bed, fully clothed, with two bullet wounds to his chest.  A .32-calibre revolver was on the floor.

On March 31, 1902 William G. Street rode his saddle horse out of Durland's Riding Academy for a ride on the bridle path in Central Park.  He was joined by Thomas Maddigan and, according to the New-York Tribune, "They were going at a brisk trot and apparently did not make an effort to slacken the speed of their steeds when taking the sharp turn at Sixty-sixth st."  

A few blocks north, at 72nd Street, Policeman Holtzki of the park squad saw a riderless horse cantering long the path and caught its bridle.  Investigating, he discovered Maddigan bent over Street, who had been thrown from the horse.  The New-York Tribune reported "The broker's head was bleeding from a jagged wound, and there were severe bruises about his body."  Street's injuries were more serious than they first appeared.  His skull was fractured at the base of the neck.  "The surgeons gave up all hope."

Also living here at the time was famed society and theatrical photographer Otto Sarony.  The son of equally-famous photographer Napoleon Sarony, he was known popularly as Sarony the Younger.  He was responsible for the portraits of celebrities like Evelyn Nesbit, Richard Bennett, Clara Blandick, and other stage stars.  Sarony, as well, made portraits of popular athletes, which he presented to the Palisade Club House for its walls.  In 1903 he contracted pneumonia while living in the Beverwyck, and died at the age of 53 in St. Joseph's Hospital on September 13.

Sarony captured this image of the beautiful Evelyn Nesbitt in 1901.  image via http://evenesbitworld.tumblr.com/

On November 2, 1904 the New-York Daily Tribune reported that William W. Renwick had leased the Beverwyck Hotel to Barry & McLaughlin.  The ten-year lease amounted to $140,000--more than $4 million today.

The operators soon made renovations.  In August 1906 they hired architect Henry H. Holly to redo interior walls and install a skylight.  It was a convenient relationship, since Holly had his office in the building.  He was, incidentally, the architect of Thomas Edison's New Jersey estate, Glenmont, as well as his West Orange laboratory.

Wealthy men dealing with marital discord often found refuge in their men's clubs or in bachelor hotels.  Such was the case  when, in 1909, wealthy James Nicholson Gallatin moved into the Beverwyck Hotel.

Two years earlier, on February 1, 1907, the Utica Herald-Dispatch had reported that "Jack Gallatin will wed again."  His intended bride was Ida Robinson Adams.

The 28-year old Gallatin was the great-grandson of Albert Gallatin, Secretary of the Treasury under Thomas Jefferson, and founder of the Gallatin National Bank.  But he came with a darker, more recent notoriety.  His father was "Al" Adams, known as the "Policy King," an infamous gangster.

The Utica Herald-Dispatch reminded its readers "He gained much notoriety in 1902 when he proposed marriage to Miss Pauline M. Cory while automobile riding in the rain," said the newspaper.  "The couple quarreled while on their wedding trip in Europe and separated."  They divorced in 1904.

When Elizabeth sued for separation based on non-support, James, known popularly as "Jack," fired off a shocking response.  The Evening Telegram reported "In his answer to his wife's complaint Gallatin...declares that his wife had been an excessive drinker and that many times she had struck and beaten him.  One one occasion, he declares, she forced him to accompany her to the theatre while she was wearing a pink wrapper."  (A "wrapper" was the loose robe-type garment women wore in the mornings before dressing.)

Then, on January 2, 1910, the New-York Daily Tribune reported that Gallatin, whose "answer was quite sensational in its charges," had retracted his response.  "I now realize that my action was hasty and unpardonable...and I wish to withdraw them all absolutely."  The article went on "Mrs. Gallatin said yesterday at her apartments, No. 39 East 27th street, that she separation suit would go on.  Her husband, who lives at No. 39 West 27th street said that so far as he was concerned, Mrs. Gallatin could do as she pleased."

Another married man who took harbor here was Charles T. Nightingale, president of a bottle-making company on Church Street.  Early in 1912 he found romance in another woman and went to extreme measures to prompt his wife, Ella, to divorce him.  She later explained that he did so by "continually flaunting in my face his love for one Nellie Callahan, an actress; burning sulphur in the apartment almost continually undermining my health; refusing to take any meals in the apartment and refusing to speak to me in any way or manner except through servants or by means of cardboard."

Finally it was Nightingale, not his wife who left their West 58th Street home.  Although he wanted to be rid of her, when she involved the courts by filing suit sued for separation he was incensed.

Around June 10 their son, Charles, Jr. warned her "My father sent me to tell you that unless you settle this matter without any court or lawyer he will throw up everything and you won't get a cent."  Ella took preemptive actions.

On June 12 Deputy Sheriff Metzger arrived to take Nightingale away.  Instead, he was met at the apartment door by a "physician" who said his patient was too ill to leave.  The Sun reported, however, that "Just then Metzger, who was standing in the hallway of the apartment, heard a voice down the hall say 'Bring me some strawberry ice cream.'  Metzger trailed the voice and asked the man behind it if he was Nightingale."  Indeed, he was, and instead of ice cream Nightingale got handcuffs.

By the following year there were females living in the Beverwyck Hotel.  A small fire broke out under the basement staircase on May 4, 1913.  It did little damage, but gave fodder to a sarcastic story in The Evening World the following day.

The article said the fire "scared some of the guests, caused a display of the latest styles in night clothes, kept Battalion Chief Ross and the men of his command busy for five minutes, and did practically no property damage."

Residents smelled smoke and, looking out their windows, saw the fire equipment.   They streamed out of the hotel in whatever they were wearing--a singular violation of Edwardian decorum.  "One of them had apparently been bathing; anyway his most important garment was a bathtowel.  The noise the men made as they trooped downstairs woke several women.  Some had time to put on slippers and kimonos and some did not."  When they were told there was no longer any danger, they all rushed back to their apartments.  "They did not scurry so fast, however, but that interested observers had time to learn that the night shirts are now gaining in favor over pajamas."

Henry H. Holly still operated his architectural office from the building in 1914, as did architect Edward Bernard Kinsila.  When the city ordered the owners to remove "encroachments" that year, Holly was hired to make the renovations.

Examples of encroachments at the time included stoops and projecting porticoes, for instance.  It may be that Renwin, Aspenwall & Renwick had originally included bay windows at street level.  Their removal would explain that rather hum-drum appearance of the lower portion of the structure today.

Although the once-fashionable neighborhood was becoming less so as well-to-do citizens moved further northward, the Beverwyck still maintained a high-class tenant list.  Still living here in 1914 was wealthy paper goods manufacturer F. Joseph Vernon.  He had been born on what The Sun called "the old Vernon homestead" in Brooklyn, which engulfed an entire city block.  Another resident was well-respected Dr. Samuel Wesley Smith, formerly the "State Commissioner in Lunacy."

The New York Herald, February 20, 1921 (copyright expired)

On February 20, 1921 The New York Herald reported that the "Apartment Hotel Beverwyck" would be auctioned.  "The house, which was recently renovated, is to be sold furnished, with immediate possession."  The New York Times added "It is a seven-story structure with stores, consisting of eighty-one rooms with a bath in each apartment."

The new owners rechristened it the Hilmont Hotel in 1926.  It was home to muralist Gordon Samstag in the late 1939 when the United States Treasury Department's Fine Arts Section awarded him the commission to execute two 4 x 15-foot murals for the new Scarsdale Post Office.  He had just recently competed a mural for the post office in Reidsville, North Carolina.

On February 27, 1940 The Herald Statesman of Yonkers, New York wrote "Scarsdale of three centuries ago, with its periwigs, Redcoats and feudal customs will be recalled today when two large mural paintings are installed in the Village Postoffice in Chase Road."  One of Samstag's paintings depicted Caleb Heathercost buying the Richbell farm, and the other was "a typical manor court scene in the early days of Scarsdale."

The Hilmont received a renovation in 1953, resulting in 11 apartments per floor, plus one in the new penthouse, unseen from the street.

Unwelcome press came to a young female resident in 1958.  According to her, on January 31 that year she had a date with a man she knew only as "John."  His full name was John Melville.

The following day the Long Island Star-Journal began an article saying "A shapely blonde and a prison record led to the quick arrest early this morning of a 30-year old Jackson Heights ex-convict."  As it turned out, the couple had hailed a cab on the East Side at 3:00 in the morning.  The cabbie dropped "the young and pretty blonde" at the Hilmont Hotel and then drove Melville to Queens.  Once there, Melville pulled out a gun and stole $30 from the driver.

Investigators traced the female back to the Hilmont.  The article noted that her name had been withheld by police "since she was not involved in the crime."  Armed only with the knowledge that the crook's name was John, they scoured records of recently-released convicts in Queens with that name.  It worked.

In 1966 the hotel became the Hotel Senton West.  A remodeling in 1973 converted the penthouse to medical offices.  It may have been at this time that the startling blue paint appeared on the stone base.  Whenever the paint job was done, it was a regrettable decision.

The Hotel Senton continues to operate within the 1891 building, one of the oldest surviving bachelor apartment structures in the city.  Its facade, the peacock blue paint notwithstanding, is remarkably intact.

photographs by the author