The Lost West Presbyterian Church - 29 West 42nd Street

from Valentine's Manual of Old New York, No.4, 1920 (copyright expired)

The West Presbyterian Church was organized in 1829 and incorporated in 1831, an outgrowth of the former North Church.  That year construction began on its handsome Greek Revival style building on Carmine Street, designed by Town & Davis.  Three decades of growth forced the congregation out of that structure, and in 1860 pastor Rev. Thomas S. Hastings moved the congregation into the chapel of the Rutgers Female Institute on West 42nd Street, between Fifth and Sixth Avenues.

The trustees hired British-born architect Jacob Wrey Mould to design a replacement structure on the site facing Bryant Park.  (Interestingly, Mould was simultaneously designing the Church of the Holy Trinity, just one block to the east.)  Credited with introducing the Victorian Gothic style to New York City, the architect had a full plate at the time.  He was also working with Calvert Vaux and Frederick Law Olmstead in designing elements of Central Park, and in 1857 had been appointed assistant city architect.

The new church was dedicated on April 30, 1865.  The New York Times described it as "a noteworthy addition to the church architecture of this city."  Patently Mould, the brick and stone structure erupted in shapes and angles.  The centered Gothic arched, story-and-a-half portico sat upon Victorian Gothic columns.  A six-sided steeple sat upon the tower to the west of the entrance, and a pyramidal roof over the sanctuary sat above stained glass panels that admitted extra light to the interior.

On December 11, 1865 the church was "the scene of an interesting musical entertainment; the occasion being the exhibition of a new and very beautiful organ, just completed for the edifice by Mr. L. U. Stuart," according to The New York Times.  Jacob Wrey Mould's design presented a challenge for Stuart.  "The instrument has been built on a novel plan, necessitated by the architectural requirements of the building...the great organ and swell divided by a space of some 60 feet, and manual in the center between the two."

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

After serving West Presbyterian for a quarter of a century, in 1881 Rev. Thomas Samuel Hastings stepped down to join the faculty of the Union Theological Seminary.  A hint of things to come appeared in The New York Times on January 23, 1882, when an article reported, "The Rev. John R. Paxton, of Washington D. C., delivered a sermon in the West Presbyterian Church, yesterday morning.  The church was crowded.  He spoke with fervor and in an impassioned manner."

Paxton was being wooed by the congregation to replace Hastings.  On February 13 The New York Times reported that his Washington congregation had begrudgingly withdrawn its refusal to accept his resignation.  The fiery preacher officially accepted the position as West Presbyterian Church's new pastor.

In 1884, Jacob Wrey Mould's interiors were given a massive redecoration by architect J. C. Cady.  On May 24 The Real Estate Record & Guide reported that the "extensive changes and improvements" would be completed by October.  

In the balcony will be placed a number of boxes, each of which will be provided with seats for eight persons, something after the style of the boxes in the Madison Square Theatre.  The choir, which now occupies a gallery above the pulpit, will be brought down to a level with the platform.  The church will be entirely-reupholstered and other minor changes will be made.

The renovations did not come cheaply, costing the congregation $60,000--more than $1.6 million today.  Near the end of Rev. Paxton's Thanksgiving Day sermon that year, he turned to "the evil of church debts."  If congregants expected that he was about to press them for donations, they would be happily surprised.  He read a letter from the treasurer which said the entire $60,000 debt had been paid anonymously.  "I do not know whether the sum was paid by one man or by several," he said, "but we can thank God that we have such generous, modest, and noble manhood among us.  I could propose three rousing cheers, but I mustn't.  I can only say, thank God."

The wealthy congregants earned West Presbyterian Church the nickname, the "Millionaire's Gate to Heaven."  The Record & Guide would later comment, "The wealth of its members was said to be $750,000,000."  

Among them were the Jay Goulds.  Unlike her financier husband, frequently decried as unscrupulous at best, Helen Miller Gould was known only for her philanthropies and kindness.  In 1887 she suffered a massive stroke, which left her paralyzed and unable to speak.  On January 15, 1889 The Patterson Morning Call began an article saying, "Mrs. Jay Gould, beloved by the large circle of friends in which she moved for her kindly manners and benevolences of heart, has at least found relief from the living death which she has endured so long."

Although her funeral was not held in the church, as some expected, but in the Gould mansion at 579 Fifth Avenue, it was officiated by Rev. Paxton, and a quartet from the church's choir sang.

An impressive funeral that did take place in the church was that of Civil War General Henry A. Barnum on February 1, 1892.  A military procession accompanied the casket from the Barnum home to the church.  "The coffin was placed on a caisson drawn by four horses," reported The New York Times.  "It was covered with the Stars and Stripes and on it were the hat and sword belonging to the dead officer."

The church was filled with millionaire mourners, like John D. Crimmins, Daniel Appleton, H. W. Dodge, Elliott F. Shepard and Lispenard Stewart, as well scores of high ranking officers and veterans.  Among the honorary pallbearers were Generals Fitz John Porter, Daniel E. Sickles, M. T. McMahon, Daniel Butterfield, and W. D. Whipple.

At the time of the funeral, storm clouds were about to form within the West Presbyterian Church.   The devastating Financial Panic of 1893 caused Rev. Paxton, never afraid to speak his mind from the pulpit, to become more outspoken about massive personal wealth.  It was a dangerous stance for the pastor of a millionaire congregation.

The Call, December 4, 1893

On December 2, 1893 The New York Times wrote, "Unless the white-winged dove of peace performs some extraordinary serial maneuver, there is a lively time ahead for the Paxtonites and the anti-Paxtonites in the West Presbyterian Church."  The faction the newspaper called the anti-Paxtonites was headed by Russell Sage and E. C. Van Glahn.  The article explained:

They say that although Mr. Sage has been sitting quietly in a front pew in the West Presbyterian church for many years with a look of rapt and benevolent interest on his countenance, drinking in with seeming unctuous approval the vigorous sermons of Dr. Paxton against miserly rich men, he has, in realty, been storing up a choice lot of opinions about vigorous sermons in general and about Dr. Paxton's in particular.

Rev. John R. Paxton resigned and promptly disappeared.  Then, on December 4 The Call reported, "Rev. John R. Paxton, pastor of the wealthy and aristocratic West church congregation of New York, who was reported missing for several days, was found by a representative of the Pittsburgh Dispatch last night at the residence of his wife's sister."  Paxton's interview with the reporter revealed his acrimony.  He said in part, "there never was and never will be any shame connected with 'Johnnie' Paxton's name...And now this young little kid of a clerk--this Van Glahn--he stands up in the West Presbyterian church and couples my name with 'shame.'"

The newspaper then quoted him as making an outrageous and shocking pronouncement.  "If I ever do go back to New York, it will be to kill one or two people.  Young Van Glahn--as for him, I'll cut his ears off."  And as for Russell Sage, who had said his sermons were not as good as they had been, Paxton said, "Now, what does he know about it?  With his deafness he couldn't have hard them.  I doubt if he could hear Gabriel's trumpet.  I know he will not want to hear it."

Reaction, as would be expected, was momentous.  The following day The New York Times reported, "The sensational statements accredited to Dr. John R. Paxton of New-York by a Pittsburg Sunday paper, and copied by this morning's papers, are absolutely without foundation."  A nephew of Paxton (who said the minister was too ill to leave his room) explained, "The main points of the interview are substantially correct, but the language is distorted and exaggerated.  My uncle never said that if he went back to New-York it would only be to kill somebody."  He also refuted the "epithets" against Van Glahn and Sage.

The ugly severance of the pastor and congregation most likely contributed to the difficulty in finding a replacement.  On March 18, 1894 The New York Times reported that a committee that included Russell Sage had twice offered the position to the Rev. Dr. Maltbie D. Babcock with a salary of $10,000 (about $310,000 today).  The minister told the reporter, "on both occasions when such overtures were made I thought proper, after careful and prayerful consideration of the matter, to decline."

A year later the situation was the same.  On June 3, 1895 a Springfield, Massachusetts newspaper reported, "A letter from Dr. [Philip] Moxom stating that he had declined the call to the West Presbyterian Church in New-York City was read in the South Church pulpit this morning."

Finally, in October 1895 the church found a new pastor in Rev. Anthony Harrison Evans.  The New York Times declared that after being "practically without a pastor of its own for nearly two years," West Presbyterian Church "has entered upon a new chapter of its existence."

The New York Times, October 3, 1895 (copyright expired)

But the relationship between the 33-year-old Evans, whom The New York Times described as "quiet, unassuming, and a trifle nervous," and his new congregation would be a rocky one.  Four years later, on March 14, 1899, The New York Times reported he "made no attempt at theatrical delivery.  He did not 'set off fireworks,' in the pulpit.  His sermons, though earnest and enthusiastic, well-delivered and thoroughly pleasing to many of this congregation, were apparently not showy enough to suit many of those who held expensive pews."  Among the dissatisfied was, once again, Russell Sage (who held the $45,000 mortgage on the building).

Evans tendered his resignation in March, 1899, but then was convinced to stay.  The decision did not sit well with Russell Sage and he and the entire Board of Trustees, with the exception of two, resigned within two months.  If Sage expected the congregation to beg him to return, it was not going to happen.

By the beginning of October that year, the church's debts had been paid and things were going well.  On October 9 an article in The New York Times quoted a new trustee who said, "I do not know whether Russell Sage has left us for good; he hasn't attended the services so far this Fall.  Under the new management everything is progressing satisfactorily, and the greatest harmony and good feeling prevail."

Commerce had begun creeping onto the block when this photograph was taken at the last of the 19th century.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

The first decade of the 20th century saw great change in the 42nd Street neighborhood.  West Presbyterian Church merged with the Park Presbyterian church early in 1911.  On April 1, the Record & Guide reported that West Presbyterian Church had sold its property to Frederick G. Bourne, a director in the Aeolian Co. for $1.1 million--more than 30 times that much in today's money.  "A 16-story building is to take its place, at a cost of $1,500,000," said the article.  The Evening World recalled that over the years the church's members had included millionaires "Russell Sage, Jay Gould, J. Hood Wright, Alfred H. Smith, E. Francis Hyde, Seth Thomas, H. M. Flagler, Robert Jaffray, and a score of other wealthy men."

photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The new Aeolian Building, designed by Warren & Wetmore was completed in 1920.  It survives as The State University of New York's College of Optometry.

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The 1887 Church of the Redeemer - 239-241 E 62nd Street

In 1850 German immigrants were settling in two distinct areas of Manhattan--the crowded Lower East Side and the developing Yorkville neighborhood to the north.   Slightly to the south of Yorkville was the estate of Adam Tredwell (sometimes spelled Treadwell).

Tredwell died in 1852 and his "farm" was soon divided into lots.  An 1868 agreement among property owners set standards for construction and disallowed undesirable businesses (like slaughterhouses and breweries).  The area also attracted German-speaking citizens; but these were not the working class settlers filling jobs in Yorkville's cigar factories and such.

The Presbytery of New York recognized the need for a new church to serve the growing population.  In 1886 construction started on the modest brick and stone Church of the Redeemer.  The Presbytery had commissioned architect Samuel A. Warner, who had just completed work on its tiny Victorian Gothic mission house at No. 420 West 57th Street.  The Church of the Redeemer would share many of its architectural elements, on a larger scale.

Completed at a cost of $20,000--about $521,000 today--the 50-foot wide structure was designed with rigid symmetry.  The central portion projected slightly and rose to a peaked gable a story higher than the flanking sections.  The simple but handsome entrance portico was supported by buttresses; its sharply angled gable pierced with an eye-catching oriel.  An especially attractive rose window dominated the upper section.

The German-language congregation worshiped here until the turn of the century.  Typical of Presbyterian groups at the time, the Church of the Redeemer was active in outreach to the poor.  As late as 1900 The New York Charities Directory noted its "mission and relief work, among tenement houses."

But by the time of that listing the Church of the Redeemer was leasing the main building to another German congregation, the Bethlehem Lutheran Church.  Finally, on May 22, 1901 The New York Times reported "The Presbytery of New York has sold the church property 241 East Sixty-second Street to the present tenants, the Lutheran Church Society."

Bethlehem Lutheran Church quickly turned the building over to the Evangelical Lutheran Church of St. Matthew.  But they, too, would not stay long.

When this photograph was taken in 1905, the German Lutheran Bethlehem Church worshiped here.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

In the years just prior to the outbreak of World War I the neighborhood saw a new wave of immigrants, the Hungarians.  In February 1913 the Church of St. Matthew sold the building to the Home of Christian Hungarian Sick Benevolent Society.  The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide noted "The buyer will remodel the present building and use it for its own purposes."

Those purposes were a bit more secular.  The church was remodeled into was described as a "meeting room."  The activities here were now starkly different.  On January 14, 1914, for instance, The Times reported "The Hungarian-American A. C. will hold its second annual wrestling tournament on Jan 23 and 24 at the clubhouse, 239 East Sixty-second Street."

Immigrant communities formed sports groups aimed to keep boys off the streets and out of pool rooms and saloons.  The Times noted "Among the clubs entered are the Boys' Club, Bronx Church House, Scandinavian-American Athletic League, Greek-America, German-American, and several branches of the W M. C. A."

Later that year, in April, the Christian Hungarian Society hired architect I. Leitersdorfer to fire-proof the "one-story brick meeting room."  The cost of the project was $400, nearly $10,000 by today's standards.

But like its predecessors, the Hungarians would soon leave.  On January 23, 1919 the New-York Tribune announced that the Christian Hungarian Sick Benevolent Societies of New York had sold the property to Philip Leone for $40,000; only slightly more in relative terms than the original construction cost.

Just a year earlier the Rev. Philip Leone had founded the Roman Catholic Church of Our Lady of Peace.  Born in Italy, he was ordained there in 1903 and came to the United States shortly afterward.  Interestingly, he founded the Church of Our Lady of Peace before becoming officially affiliated with the Archdiocese of New York in 1919, according to The New York Times later.

Rev. Leone also organized the first branch of the Italian Holy Name Society and the first Italian chapter of the Catholic Daughters of America.

Now that his Italian-speaking congregation had a building, it immediately laid plans to restore the sanctuary to a house of worship.  Architect Thomas J. Duff completed plans "for alterations and extensions" late in 1920.  Construction, costing $30,000, began early in 1921.

 The result was a jewel-box interior of white plastered walls decorated with delicate gold stenciling and frescoes. 

photographed by Steven Thomas Moy on June 14, 2013, via oldchurchnyc.typepad.com

Rev. Leone served as pastor of the Italian congregation until his death in 1945.  The Church of Our Lady of Peace continued to serve its parishioners as generations were baptized, married and their funerals held in the familiar sanctuary.

Then, on July 31, 2015 ABC News reported "A nearly century old Catholic church on the Upper East Side held its final mass Friday afternoon."  Congregants had been caught off guard by the New York Archdiocese's decision to close 112 churches in a cost-cutting consolidation.

Even as Father Bartholomew Daly offered Communion for the last time, parishioners were hopeful.  An appeal had already been sent directly to the Vatican, pleading for papal intervention.   Five volumes of documents outlined the congregation's history, its mission and its importance to the community.

The church was locked and the congregation officially merged with St. John the Evangelist on East 55th Street.  But many recalcitrant parishioners refused to give up the fight.  Mass was held outside Our Lady of Peace and every day for two years they gathered on the steps, despite rain or snow, to light candles and pray.  Petitions, letters, and fundraisers sought to pressure Catholic officials to reopen their church.  A group called the Friends of Our Lady of Peace hired attorneys and appealed the closing.

Finally, two years after sending their appeal to the Vatican, the congregation got a response.  Despite gathering 4,000 signatures of support and $500,000 to prove that the church was financially self-sufficient, the Vatican's Congregation of the Clergy ruled in favor of the New York Archdiocese.

In January 2017 representatives of the congregation announce plans to appeal.  But it was all too late.  Cardinal Timothy M. Dolan had been working on his own plans.  Under his direction the Archdiocese leased the building to the Coptic Orthodox Church, an ancient Egyptian-based Christian denomination.

The New York Times reported on March 5, "The lease is the first stage of a plan to transform the church into the Coptic Church's New York cathedral, an idea that both Cardinal Dolan and Coptic leaders say Pope Francis has blessed."

And so the little brick church, having served German Presbyterians, German Lutherans, Hungarian Christians, and Italian Catholics, enters its newest chapter.  In the meantime, other than a paint job, little has changed outwardly to the Samuel A. Warner's charming structure.

photographs by the author

"The Dairy" - Central Park

photo by Brian Clark ("sooner") via Centralpark.com

In 1853, the same year that the New York State Legislature set aside more than 750 acres to create The Central Park, authorities noticed a suspicious rise in the amount of cow's milk being brought from outlying farms into Manhattan.  Previously about 90,000 quarts arrived in the city each day; now the number rose inexplicably to 120,000.  An investigation was launched.

The findings were chilling.  Investigators found that some dairymen were diluting the milk with water, then adding flour to restore its consistency.  But worse, unscrupulous dairy farmers, many in Brooklyn, were feeding their cows the alcoholic mash left over from the whiskey distillery process.

These cows were stricken with disease and deformities – losing their tails and hooves and developing open sores. The resulting milk, called “swill milk” by the press, was a thin, bluish liquid. To disguise it, the dairymen added plaster of paris, starch and eggs.  Molasses gave it the proper coloring of wholesome milk.  Harper’s Weekly, the newspaper that lead the charge against swill milk, reported that up to 8,000 children in New York died every year.

In the meantime, Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux won the 1858 design competition for Central Park.  Their vision would create open space for all New Yorkers, including the poor and underprivileged.  The green spaces, terraces, ponds and roadways were designed not only for their beauty, but to contribute to public health.  As the Park developed, it would play a substantial role in the milk crisis.

But for now the unspeakable corruption and tragedy continued.   When, in 1862, a Brooklyn “distillery dairy” caught fire, The New York Times described the deplorable condition of the milk cows that were released into the streets:

Many of the cows were in such a weak condition that they were thrown down and trampled upon by the more recent additions to the stock, and several will have to be braced up before they can undergo the process of milking again…One cow in particular, owing to her deformed feet, being unable to stand, attracted considerable attention, and yet the lookers-on were assured that she gave the best milk of any animal in the whole country.  [The cows had] long tails, short tails, stub tails, and some with no tails at all.  Their appendages were in every conceivable condition, from a sound stump down to stumps in every degree of decomposition… It was a most pitiable and disgusting spectacle.

At the southern point of Central Park--the spot where families would first enter--was to be a Children's Area.  Although not originally part of Olmstead and Vaux's design, plans were laid for a dairy here in 1869.  Its purpose would be to provide children with wholesome milk and pastries with no fear of contamination.

On February 18, 1870 The New York Times happily anticipated the new project. “The Commissioners of the Central Park have determined to erect and open next Spring a dairy for the supply of pure, wholesome, and unadulterated milk for the special use of invalid and delicate ladies and their infant children visiting the Park…There is a cottage being erected, with a handsome steeple and ornamental turrets, for the accommodation of ladies and infants.  There will be female attendants there, and all the regular conveniences.  In the basement cows will be kept in readiness to supply the demand made of them. Around this cottage a fine area of land is set apart for a playground, exclusively for the very young children, being distinct and separate from the present boys’ and girls’ playground…The milk will be supplied at cost price.”

Calvert Vaux designed the dairy, a whimsical fantasy of Victorian Gothic, multi-colored gingerbread right off the pages of Hansel and Gretel. The polychrome wooden loggia was intended to shelter the children from the elements and catch cool breezes in the summer. The stone block dairy, a combination of Manhattan schist and sandstone, took its inspiration from picturesque country German church architecture.

Victorian children gather on the grass outside the Dairy not long after its completion.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Despite the promise that the milk would be supplied "at cost" and the refreshments would be affordable, one Southern family visiting the park in 1874 was thunderstruck at their bill.  After visiting the menagerie on October and seeing among the exhibits the laughing jack-ass, they "discovered they were hungry."

According to the letter to the editor of The New York Herald written by a New York friend, they entered the Dairy and ordered two cups of coffee, one glass of milk and three sandwiches.  When they were finished, the father asked how much he owed.  When the waiter told him $2.50, he hesitated.  John Bangles, who write the letter, said "Our friend does not roll in wealth...he demurred and the waiter, with a glance of pity and a smile, said, 'Well, $2.25.'"  The reduced bill would be equal to about $50 today.

"My friends then departed, the little boy asked what was the mater, the father muttered something about seeing another laughing jackass."

One can almost hear the cacophony within the Dairy in this etching by J. N. Hyde that appeared in Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper in 1872 (copyright expired)

It seems that the Southern family were victims of an unscrupulous waiter.  In his 1882 New York by Gaslight, James D. McCabe, Jr. described the Dairy as "a tasteful gothic structure of brick and stone.  Here pure milk and refreshments may be had at moderate prices.  Residents of the city can always purchase fresh milk or cream here, for sick children, and a great quantity is sold daily for this purpose."

An unusual view reveals the surprising scale of the building, including the cow barn section.  photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The dairy not only provided children wholesome refreshments in 1899, it was a source of amusement in the form of one draft horse.  On January 18 the Pennsylvania newspaper Republican, wrote about "'Dan Sorrel,' who draws the milk wagon that takes the milk to Central Park Dairy every morning.  His driver often amuses the children that gather about his pet by saying:

'Now, Dan, I believe you are a Democrat.'

'No,' shakes the head.

'What! a Republican?'

'Yes, yes, yes,!' and a stamping of both front feet, while the tail is slashed about like a banner to emphasize his sentiments."

In November 1911 New Yorkers may have been surprised and disappointed when they read that Park Commissioner Charles B. Stover planned to do away with the Dairy as a concession.  The New-York Tribune reported that Stover had announced "in the near future he would convert the Dairy, one of the oldest refreshment stands in the park, into playrooms, doing away with the privilege, which dates back to the early days of the park."

The playroom idea did not work out.   By the 1950s the building was essentially abandoned and dilapidated. Vaux’s once-colorful loggia, now rotted and sagging, was ripped down by the Parks Department and the Dairy suffered the humiliation of becoming a maintenance shed.

After being left forgotten for two decades, the Central Park Administration hired designer James Lamantia and Weisberg Castro Associates to restore the interior of the Dairy.  In 1979 it was opened as the Park’s first visitor center.

Two years later the new Central Park Conservancy took over the Dairy and restored its wonderful wooden loggia. Today a permanent exhibit of the history and design of Central Park is housed here.

Our Lady of Sorrows School -- No. 219 Stanton Street

By the middle of the 19^th century thousands of German immigrants had settled in New York’s Lower East Side.  In 1857 only Berlin and Vienna had larger German populations.  That year Rev. Bonaventure Frey founded Our Lady of Sorrows parish for the area’s German Catholics.

Construction on a permanent church building at No. 105 Pitt Street began in 1867 and was completed the following year.  In 1873 the trustees obtained the lots next to the church building, extending to Stanton Street, as the site of a school.

Another German immigrant, J. William Schickel, was given the commission to design the building.  Known professionally as William Schickel, he had arrived in New York just four years earlier at the age of 20.   Trained in Bavaria, he designed Our Lady of Sorrows School in the Victorian Gothic style popularized by John Ruskin. The plans, filed on February 13, 1874 called for a “four-story brick school house.”  It was an understated description.

Construction progressed rapidly and was completed before the end of the year.  On December 14 the church ladies staged a “grand fair” in the hall of the school to offset the construction costs.  Church fairs were a common means of fund-raising in the 19th century; and The New York Herald said “a number of tables well covered with objects of art and virtu will surround the spacious hall, and tasteful draping depend from the walls and ceiling.”  The newspaper reported that the shopper could find articles “some of great value and rare curiosity, and there is little doubt that with the efficient corps of lady attendants the fair will be an entire success.”

Five stories tall including the mansard roof, the red brick structure was trimmed in limestone.  Ruskin’s influence appeared in the polychromatic alternating of stone and brick over the openings.  The slate-shingled mansard was punctuated by a row of delightful, stone-faced dormers; a centered gable on the Pitt Street elevation; and pyramidal corner caps.  At the fourth floor a stirring sculpture of the Virgin and Child perched below an ornate Gothic canopy.  Internally, the structure was essentially two buildings.  Girls entered on Pitt Street, while boys used the entrance at No 219 Stanton Street. 

 

The stenciled transom over former boys' entrance on Stanton Street survives.

The Catholic students from the surrounding tenements were expected, of course, to attend Our Lady of Sorrows Church.  That meant getting up hours before sunrise, at least for their First Communion mass on November 7, 1886.  The New York Times reported that the high mass commenced at 5:30 a.m.  “After the mass 100 little girls robed in white, with veils and flowers, 60 small boys in black clothes and red sashes, 30 other boys, and the clergy marched through the aisles of the church.”

The school hall of Our Lady of Sorrows was used for various events.  On Monday, November 15 that year, for example, the St, Aloysius Sodality, a men’s fraternal organization of the church, gave a “musical and dramatic entertainment” to benefit the purchase of a bell for the tower of the new Church of Our Lady of Angels far north on 113^th Street.

Like the church, Our Lady of Sorrows School was run by the Capuchin Fathers.  On February 14, 1888 The Evening World reported on the status of the facility, saying it was “now in a most prosperous condition.”  At the time of the article the boys’ school had an enrollment of 352 and the girls’ school 450.  The difference in “average daily attendance” could be explained by the need for young boys to find work rather than attend school, in order to help with family finances.

The school hall was the scene of a reunion of sorts on May 2, 1915.  The New-York Tribune reported that “Present and former inhabitants of Pitt Street foregathered to swap reminiscences in the old school hall…last night.  The meeting, which was termed ‘A Monster Smoker and Oldtimers’ Night,’ was under the direction of the St. Aloysius Young Men’s Benevolent Association.  A vaudeville show and refreshments enlivened the evening.”

 

As late as the 1970s the dormers and the delightful cast iron finials of the roof survived.  photo from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The hulking Victorian building served the Pitt Street neighborhood into the 21^st century.  Then, in January 2011, it was closed by Cardinal Timothy M. Dolan.  The building was converted for the Cooke Center for Learning and Development.  A non-profit provider of special education services for students aged 5 through 21, it also provides consulting and training services.

 photographs by the author

The Albert W. Harris House -- No. 328 West 76th Street

In the mid-1850s—decades before the invention of the internal combustion engine—petroleum was used mainly for medicinal ointments and lamp fuel.  In 1857 Edwin Drake, an unemployed railroad conductor, used a steam engine to drill for oil in Titusville, Pennsylvania.  Two years later, on August 27, 1859, he hit pay dirt.  His oil well triggered an “oil rush,” similar to the California Gold Rush to come a decade later.

Among the optimistic prospectors headed to Pennsylvania was Albert W. Harris.  Born in Hartford, Connecticut 1843, Harris was still in his teens.  By the time he returned to New York City to found the oil firm A. W. Harris & Co. in 1876, he had accumulated a handsome fortune.

Harris married Mary Reed and the couple had a son, Tudor, and two daughters, Caroline and Mary.  Aggressive and self-confident, Harris was involved in several businesses unrelated to the oil business. And when he purchased the lot at No. 328 West 76^th Street in 1887 he took on the design of the new house himself.

Architects were filling the rapidly-developing Upper West Side with a grab bag of historic-inspired buildings.  Albert W. Harris joined the trend, designing a fanciful castle-rowhouse which dipped into Gothic and Romanesque Revivals for inspiration.  His four story home sat high above an English basement.  The stone stoop led to an entrance decorated with medieval motifs.  A two-story oriel rose from the parlor level, above which three Gothic-pointed arches suggested a chapel.  The entrance section morphed into a romantic tower—faceted at the second floor, rounded at the third, and capped by a pierced parapet.  A stepped gable crowned the main section and disguised the attic story.

A carriage alley led to a quaint private stable in the rear.   Its second story was a near-match to the third floor of the main house.

The carriage house, glimpsed down the alley between No. 328 and 330, mirrors the architecture of the house.

Harris became highly active in the Upper West Side.  He was a founder of the Colonial Club in 1889; and the Commonwealth Club in 1904.  The New-York Tribune called the Colonial Club “one of the best social clubs in the city.  Its membership comprised many men of high social distinction.”  And when the Commonwealth Club was organized, the newspaper said “It starts with a membership of three hundred well known business men living on the West Side.”

While Albert continued in his business dealings (he was a director of the Childs Restaurant chain and instrumental in its reorganization; and, according to The New York Times “interested in a number of business enterprises”); Mary Reed Harris was involved in charitable endeavors.  In 1893 she was on the Committee on Fancy Goods for the Fair for the benefit of the Throat and Nose Hospital; and she was highly involved with Auxiliary No. 5 of Stony Wald.

An incised shield  above the entrance (now a window) displays Harris's monogram.

Stony Wald was a favorite charity of many socialites.  It was a sanitarium for women and girls inflicted with tuberculosis.   On April 3, 1906 Mary hosted a tea for the Auxiliary during which Mrs. James Edward Newcomb and Mrs. John Calwell Coleman updated members on the work being done.  The New-York Tribune reported “Mrs. Newcomb told of the patient who has recently been sent to Stony Wold by Auxiliary No. 5 who gained eight pounds in weight in less than two weeks and is most grateful to the auxiliary for this opportunity to regain her health.”  Although business was discussed, the tea was social as well.  Sanford Norcutt, organist of the Judson Memorial Church played; and two of the wealthy women sang.

Mary was also a member of the Rubinstein Club, a women’s musical organization which presented concerts and recitals, and of the Daughters of the American Revolution.

Albert W. Harris died on Tuesday, August 26, 1914 in the house he had designed 27 years earlier.  He was 70 years old.  Mary remained in the house until her death in 1928.

Two years later, in December, the Harris heirs leased the house to Charles Breen and his wife.  It would survive as a single-family residence until 1970 when the stoop was removed, a rather unattractive penthouse floor was added, and the interiors were divided into apartments—just two each on the upper floors.

photographs by the author