The Lost Isaac Michael Dyckman Mansion - 505 West 218th Street

 

An undated postcard shows the mansion, carriage house and expansive greenhouses.  Note the female strolling in the garden at left, near an ornamental statue.

 
James Frederick D. Smith was one of ten children of Caleb Smith, Jr. and Hannah Dyckman.  Born on New Year's Day 1813, at the age of seven, he was sent to live with his grandfather Jacobus Dyckman and unmarried uncles, Isaac and Michael, in his mother's childhood home on Broadway at 204th Street.   Jacobus died in 1832, leaving his vast upper Manhattan holdings to Michael and Isaac.  Following Michael's death in 1854, just James and his uncle Isaac lived in the venerable farmhouse with their servants.

As James's wedding to his distant cousin, Fannie Blackwell Brown, neared in October 1867, Isaac Dyckman gave him a large parcel of land at the tip of northern Manhattan, presumably as a wedding present.  Smith began construction on a lavish French Second Empire mansion on the grounds, described as having 17 rooms, plus "a stable, a greenhouse, sheds, barns, and a lodge."  Smith and Fannie Brown were married on December 18, 1867, as their opulent estate was under construction.

Isaac Dyckman died just one month after the marriage.  The Minneapolis newspaper The Appeal reported, "At that time Mr. Isaac Dyckman had probably more real property in his hands than any other single property owner of Manhattan has ever seen."  With no surviving siblings, his will divided the property among nephews and nieces.  His favorite nephew, however, received the major part."

But that legacy came with a major proviso.  Because neither Issac nor his brother Michael had married, the Dyckman name was threatened to die out.  To prevent that, Smith's inheritance was subject to a startling condition:  he had one year to change his name to Isaac Michael Dyckman or the bequests would be revoked.

It did not take Smith long to decide.  On March 20, 1868 he legally became Isaac Michael Dyckman.  In return, he inherited valuable real estate not only in Northern Manhattan, but on the still undeveloped Upper East Side, downtown Manhattan, and Yonkers.

The newly named Isaac and Fannie Dyckman had two daughters.  Mary Alice was born in 1869 and Fannie Fredericka (known familiarly as Freda) two years later.  The estate on which the girls grew up featured manicure lawns, formal gardens and orchards.  

In order to administer his vast holdings, Isaac Michael Dyckman established a real estate office downtown, and by 1889 the family had a townhouse at 15 East 71st Street where they spent the winter social season.

Alice was married to Dr. Bashford Dean of Columbia College on November 9, 1893.  Freda was her maid of honor.  A reception followed in her parent's townhome.

image from the collection of the Columbia Low Library collection

Fannie Fredericka's wedding three years later took place in the summer.  And so, not surprisingly, it was held in the Kingsbridge mansion.  She married the well-known architect Alexander McMillan Welch.  On June 3, 1896, The Sun reported, "About 700 guests attended the reception which followed the ceremony."  Mysteriously, there was no mention of Alice.  Fannie's maid of honor was her new sister-in-law, Alberta M. Welch and Alice's name appeared nowhere in the detailed newspaper accounts.  Fannie and Alexander moved into the East 71st Street house with her parents and, presumably, shared the uptown estate as well.

Alice (top) and Freda Dyckman on their wedding days.  images via Dyckman Farmhouse Museum

On May 2, 1899 the New-York Tribune reported that Isaac Michael Dyckman had donated $10,000 (about $337,000 today) to Columbia University.  "The fund will be known as the Dyckman Fund for the encouragement of Biological Research," said the article.  The Evening Post added, "This he did in memory of his two uncles, who were early alumni of that institution."

Exactly one week later, on the evening of May 9, 1899, Dyckman died in the East 71st Street house at the age of 87.  The Yonkers Statesman commented, "His death was unexpected, and was due to a sudden breakdown of his constitution."  In reporting his death, The New York Times said, "He was a man of large wealth, and was much interested in benevolent matters."  His funeral took place in the East 71st Street house.

Ironically, because James and Fannie had not born a son, Isaac Dyckman's scheme to continue of the Dyckman name failed.  On May 11, 1899 the New-York Daily Tribune said, "On Monday, however, he died, leaving only two daughters.  So the estate again passes to an alien name, although it remains in the Dyckman family."

In 1904 the Kingsbridge estate was being hemmed in by development, and dynamiting for a new ship canal disturbed the tranquility.  On September 11, 1904 the New-York Tribune reported that Alexander M. Welch, as executor of the Dyckman estate, was in negotiations with a syndicate to transform the property into an amusement park.  A month later, it appeared that a deal had been struck.  The plans for the $1.5 million, 31-acre Wonderland had been drawn up by the architectural firm of Kirby, Petit & Green.  The Real Estate Record & Guide reported it would exceed "anything at Coney Island."

The proposed Wonderland.  Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, November 19, 1904 (copyright expired)

The deal, however, fell through.  The mansion was used as a Catholic boys' school until 1921.  That year Columbia University used a gift of $700,000 from George F. Baker, the chairman of the Board of the First National Bank, to purchase the property as a site for an athletic complex.  On May 4, 1922 the facility was dedicated as Baker Field, in honor of its benefactor.

The estate soon saw the development of playing and practice fields, and a wooden stadium was completed in 1928.  The Dyckman mansion was used as the team's field house, called the Manor House.

But Victorian villas made poor field houses.  In 1945, football coach Lou Little told a reporter from the New York Sun, "I doubt if the Manor House is haunted, but the place sure is a monstrosity."  Director of Athletics Ralph Furey chimed in, "That's right.  The old house has outlived its usefulness, and will be the first thing demolished when we get around to rebuilding up here."

The journalist described gave a brief history of the venerable structure, adding:

But now the big rambling place with its dark, winding stairways, is lonesome and deserted, most of its seventeen rooms empty.  But one room has a touch of life and color, for here the uniforms and instruments of the college band are kept.  The house on Saturdays also sees the concessionaire's boys coming in to count up, amid scattered piles of game programs, after selling their wares through the stands.

The demolition began around 1949.  image from the collection of the Columbia Low Library collection

In 1949 or 1950 the mansion was demolished to be replaced by the brick Chrystie Field House that survives on the site.

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"The Pumpkin House" - 16 Chittenden Avenue

The configuration of the river-facing window, resembling a jack-o-lantern, led to the modern nickname "Pumpkin House." photo by Beyond My Ken  

The wealthiest of New York families established vast summer estates in the upper regions of Manhattan during the 18th and early 19th centuries .  Among them was Lucius Chittenden, whose 130-acre estate "included all the land between the Kingsbridge road [now Broadway] and the river," from 185th street to approximately 198th, according to the 1917 Documents of the Assembly of the State of New York.  Chittenden was no doubt drawn to the location by the stunning views from the hill-top site and the cooling river breezes.

The Chittenden family enjoyed vast vistas from the property.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The era of summer estates was long gone in 1923.  The sole surviving reminder of Lucius Chittenden was a tiny hook of roadway named Chittenden Avenue.  That year The New York Herald publisher James Gordon Bennett, Jr. sold the lot on the edge of the steep cliff at No. 16 Chittenden Avenue to Cleveland Walcutt, a partner in Walcutt Bros. Company at No. 141 East 25th Street.  

The firm initially listed itself as "Printers' and Lithographers' Embossing and Hot Plate Embossing.  Bookbinders' Stamping and Casemaking."   But it took its embossing practice a step further by 1913, producing, for example, heavy embossed paper "friezes" to adorn the upper edges of domestic walls.  

A "Wall-Cut" frieze.  The Painters' Magazine, August 1913 (copyright expired)

Walcutt was as innovative in his vision of a home as he was in his paper products.  He directed his architects, Harold D. Verna and Franklin D. Pagan, to design a cantilevered structure teetering over the cliff face, supported by iron beams .  The plans projected the construction costs at $25,000--about $368,000 today.

As construction began, the extraordinary project brought nationwide attention.  Dansville [New York] Breeze, February 4, 1925

Building on the exceptional site required a special permit.  And as the structure rose it caught the attention of architects, builders and curiosity-seekers across the country.  In February 1925 the Buffalo Courier commented "The modern cliff dweller makes his appearance in the person of Cleveland Walcutt of New York.  The framework of a house actually built on stilts startled the residents of the Riverside Drive district."

The Yonkers Statesman said that automobiles and pedestrians below had "marveled at the unusual steel structure which stretches gauntly aloft from the rocky and inhospitable hillside."  Guesses as to what was being erected ranged from a new bridge, or a lighthouse to a "hitching-post for dirigibles."

Gas Light magazine described Walcutt as "a man of pioneer spirit," saying "the house on stilts is his own idea."  The article explained that conventional house construction techniques were not feasible and that "office-building construction...is being employed throughout for the house on stilts, for the problem of wind pressure on the walls of this high home, exposed on all sides, has always to be considered."  The girders on which the brick and concrete house would sit were 40 feet high.

Space was a precious commodity, so heating, cooking and hot water was provided by gas, thereby eliminating the need for a bulky furnace and coal storage area.  The architects faced the walls--inside and out--in rough brick "in a variety of colors and designs."

The Yonkers Statesman described the layout.  "The first floor will have a reception and stair hall, a large combination living and dining-room, and the kitchen  Above will be the  bedrooms and baths, and the roof will be boatlike, with a flat deck finish for part of its surface, and a covered portion to be used as a sleeping porch."

Gas Logic, called the still-rising house "Mr. Walcutt's giraffe-like mansion," and said "And so, from their eyrie on the hillside, Mr. Walcutt and his family will enjoy quiet, fresh air and a bird's-eye perspective on life, for their rooms will be on a level with the treetops about them."

The many references to the vertical girders quickly led to a nickname.  In 1925 American Gas Association Monthly was among the first to call it "The House on Stilts."  

Construction was completed in late 1925.  The Clay Worker commented in January 1926, "Franklin D. Pagan and Harold D. Vernan were the architects of this freak in home building, and are certainly to be congratulated on the success of the undertaking.

Cleveland Walcutt's wife, Grace, had died several years earlier.  He moved into the House on Stilts with his four sons.  Their residency would be surprisingly short.  The following year Walcutt declared personal bankruptcy and lost the house in foreclosure.  It was purchased by Charles Schwartz in 1930.

The wealthy 40-year old was the secretary-treasurer of Universal Liquidators, Inc. an auction firm.  He and his wife had three daughters and a son.

The industrial, unfinished appearance of the supporting girders were, apparently, unsightly to Schwartz, who set about to remedy that.  The New York Times later reported "At the time Mr. Schwartz bought the house, it was supported on the slope by iron girders and was known as the 'House on Stilts.'  Mr. Schwartz had the girders covered with concrete and was said to have large sums of money improving the house."

Schwartz encased the supporting girders in concrete.  Note the permanent shelter on the roof deck, the "generously windowed" southern exposure, as described by Gas Logic, and long balconies.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

On Saturday morning, March 2, 1935, Schwartz went for a drive.  When he returned at around 11:00, he dismissed his chauffeur for the day.   His wife was either unaware that he had returned, or was too busy preparing for that evening's dinner party to wonder about his whereabouts.

But by 8:30 that night, however, he was most definitely missed.  The guests had all arrived, and by now dinner had been held for nearly an hour awaiting Schwartz's appearance.  Finally his father-in-law, Hymie Finkelman, set off to find him.  The New York Times reported that he "went to the garage and found him slumped to the floor of his automobile.  Death had been caused by carbon monoxide poisoning."

The House on Stilts originally sat alone on the cliff.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The ignition was turned on, the gas tank had run out, and the garage doors were all closed.  Assistant Medical Examiner Dr. Robert C. Fisher indicated "that he was not entirely satisfied with the circumstances of the death."  No evidence of foul play, however, was discovered.

The House on Stilts was eventually sold to Anna Schwartz, who resold it in December 1946 to Eugene Principe.  At some point a one-bedroom apartment was created.  The primary duplex still contained five bedrooms, two bathrooms and a maid's room.  

The Principe family retained ownership until 2000 when it was placed on the market for $1.1 million.  It was purchased by interior designer William Wesley Spink.  By then, thanks to Schwartz's entombing of the iron pilings in concrete, the house had lost its moniker "The House on Stilts."  It was now widely recognized as The Pumpkin House, because the configuration of the western windows resembled a jack-o-lantern.

photo via sothebyshomes.com

Spink, who filled the house with a collection of valuable art, did structural renovation to the aging structure.  He sold it in 2011 for just under $4 million; and it appeared on the market again in 2016 for $5.25 million.  Once the only structure on the cliff, it is today crowded in by apartment buildings.  None of them, however, can compete with the Pumpkin House's architectural singularity.

photo by Beyond My Ken