No. 121 East 17th Street

As the 1890s approached, the glory days of Union Square as an elegant residential neighborhood were gone.   Its mansions had been converted for business or razed and replaced by modern commercial structures.  But on the streets branching off the square some relics remained—once-fashionable homes, now operated as boarding houses, and an occasional carriage house.

One such survivor was the two-story brick stable at No. 121 East 17^th Street.  The building once housed the horses and vehicles of one of the Square’s wealthy residents.  It was close enough for convenience; yet just far enough away that the smells and noises would not offend.

Unlike most private stables which lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, a service alley ran along the east side of No. 121—providing the unusual luxury of sunlight-providing openings on the side wall.   A vast two-story arch enveloped both the double bay doors and the upper window.  Following the traditional stable arrangement, it was flanked by a doorway to the upper story and an window of the same size.  Below the generous, bracketed cornice, a row of brick-framed oculi wrapped the building, each sitting directly above an arched window.

But in the 1880s the millionaires around Union Square were largely gone and their carriage houses had been converted or demolished.  By 1888 No. 121 East 17^th Street had been remodeled by Philip Martiny for his studio.  The sculptor was not the first to realize the potential of the utilitarian structures.  The high ceilings and wide bays were perfect for working on large pieces.

Born in Alsace on May 19 1858, he once told a reporter “People have called me Swiss, and Italian, and German—everything but what I am—a Frenchman.”  He studied under Eugene Dock, and then left home at the age of 20 to come to New York.   Years later he said “I was lucky from the first.  I was taken into the studio of a great sculptor—the greatest sculptor in America to-day—St. Gaudens.”

Martiny executed the magnificent sanctuary lamp for St. Paul the Apostle Church here.  photo http://www.stpaultheapostle.org/viewgallery.php?id=2&secid=#

It would appear that the 17^th Street studio was Martiny’s first after venturing out on his own.  It was here that Martiny created the massive sanctuary lamp for St. Paul the Apostle Church in 1888.  Stanford White had given him the designs for the lamp.   White would work with Martiny several times; having him execute the south doors of St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church, for instance, and a bronze figure of Aphrodite for Oliver Hazard Payne’s luxurious yacht decorated by White.

Before the turn of the century Martiny moved his studio to another converted stable—this one in Macdougal Alley near Washington Square.  The 17th Street studio was taken over by another sculptor, George T. Brewster.

Brewster would become best known for his sculptural portraits and figures for war memorials.  Working from the former carriage house, he produced commissions that included the figure of Victory for the Indiana Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument in Indianapolis; the statue of Stephen Decatur on New York City’s Dewey Triumphal Arch; and a bas-relief portrait of Augustus Saint-Gaudens for the National Portrait Gallery in Washington D.C.

Brewster was one of 28 sculptors chosen to work on the Dewey Memorial Arch.  It was demolished a year after its completion.  photograph from the collection of the Library of Congress.

In the years preceding World War I Pepe & Brother was busy transforming vintage houses in Greenwich Village into modern studio buildings for artists.  Vincent Pepe was the leading force in the partnership.  In an article written for the Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide on August 5, 1916, he explained his concept. “Owners of real estate have realized that in order to obtain the desirable class of tenants, old buildings must be remodeled artistically and efficiently in order to meet the requirements of the ‘artist colony’ which has been firmly established in the district.”

By 1918 the Pepe & Brother had ventured to the east side of Fifth Avenue.  They remodeled No. 121 East 17^th Street to artists’ studios, and on November 30, 1918 The Sun reported that the brothers had leased a studio to playwright and poet Percy MacKaye.

MacKaye was already well-established in American theater when he took the studio; having already written the plays The Canterbury Pilgrims in 1903; Sappho and Phaon and Jeanne D’Arc, in 1907; perhaps his most famous work, The Scarecrow, in 1908; and Anti-Matrimony in 1910.

When the editor of Books and The Book World compared British literary artists with Americans, The Sun’s editorial team answered bluntly.  Asked to name “Recent American dramatists fairly comparable with Shaw, Barker, Yeats, Synge, Gregory, Dunsany, Irvine, Galsworthy,” they replied on August 18, 1918:

“The correct highbrow thing to do would be to answer: ‘We name Percy MacKaye, Percy MacKaye, Percy MacKaye, Percy MacKaye, Percy MacKaye, Percy MacKaye, Percy MacKaye, Percy MacKaye.”

While living and working at No. 121 East 17^th Street MacKaye collaborated with Reginald De Koven on the three-act folk opera Rip Van Winkle, which was produced in 1919.

The quaint little building was briefly leased by the German Masonic Temple Association in 1933; but was converted in 1935 by architect Alfred A. Tearle into a two-story restaurant.  It was home in the first years of the 21^st century to publishing firm Fletcher & Parry “The Carriage House.”

Renovated once again to a two-story restaurant, the charming brick building survives; a relic of the days when Union Square was girded with fashionable mansions and the horses and carriages of Manhattan’s wealthy were housed in style.

photographs by the author

Robt Cowie's Village Re-do--No. 71 Washington Place

In the years preceding the First World War the streets branching away from Washington Square were undergoing change.  An invasion of artists, musicians, poets and writers was transforming the once-staid residential area into one of artists’ studios and bohemian tearooms.   Vintage brick and brownstone-clad homes were converted to include updated studio spaces with large windows.

Many of the transformations were executed by real estate developer Vincent C. Pepe, the major force in Pepe & Brother.  Vincent, writing in the Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide on August 5, 1916, noted “Owners of real estate have realized that in order to obtain the desirable class of tenants, old buildings must be remodeled artistically and efficiently in order to meet the requirements of the ‘artist colony’ which has been firmly established in the district.”

In 1915 Pepe had purchased No. 124 Waverly Place, built in 1838, and converted it into a nearly unrecognizable studio building with expanses of glass that captured the natural light.  Upon the building’s completion sculptor Rudulph Evans took the spacious fourth floor studio. 

The artist would go on to create notable sculptural portraits like that of Thomas Jefferson in Washington D.C.’s Jefferson Memorial; two statues in the United States Capitol; and the statue of Robert E. Lee in the Virginia State Capitol.   But those commissions would not be executed on Waverly Place.

Within months, obviously impressed with what the Pepe brothers had done, Evans purchased a nearby house with similar intentions.

The Greek Revival house at No. 71 Washington Place had been built in 1848 for merchant H. Coleman.  But for several decades it, like so many of the houses surrounding Washington Square, had been a boarding house.  The advertisements for rooms here throughout the 1880s and ‘90s used terms like “respectable,” “gentlemen,” and “references.”  The precautions did not eliminate sometimes colorful boarders, however.

Among these was Charles E. Lawton who lived here in the 1890s.  He was a founder in 1895 of the City Vigilance League of New York, along with powerful religious leader Rev. Charles H. Parkhurst and other self-proclaimed guardians of propriety.  The objects of the league, as laid out in its certificate of incorporation were, in part, “to repress in the community what makes for its detriment.”

To that effect, Charles E. Lawton and another League member, Thomas L. McClintock, initiated a series of “night expeditions” to houses of prostitution to gather evidence.

Another boarder in 1897 was 71-year old Ellis N. Crow.  He left No. 71 Washington Place on Wednesday April 7 that year saying he was “going to Mount Vernon to collect some money.”  But he never went to Mount Vernon and by Saturday his family was understandably panicked. 

The New York Times reported “Members of his family suggest no reason for his disappearance, except a possible derangement of his mind from an attack of grip, with which he had been suffering several days, although he was not supposed to be seriously ill.”

His family members described him as an upstanding, moral citizen--the type even Charles E. Lawton would have approved of.  “He is said to have been generally regular and temperate in his habits and to have invariably gone home promptly when he had completed any business matter calling him out,” said the newspaper.

But despite the family’s portrayal, there was some suspicion about Crow’s activities.   An elderly man had been found unconscious on the street a few days earlier and was locked up for the night in the Leonard Street Police Station.  He was fined $3 for intoxication the next morning and taken to the Hudson Street Hospital.  The name he gave, E. N. Crowell, was suspiciously similar to that of Ellis N. Crow.  But all trace of that man was lost after he left the hospital. 

As it turned out E. N. Crowell and Ellis N. Crow were apparently not the same man.  But, humiliatingly for the family, the circumstances were very similar.  On April 12 The Times reported that Crow had been found in the workhouse on Blackwell’s Island, using the name John Cawell.

“On the day of his disappearance he was arrested on the charge of intoxication, and was sent to the workhouse from the Jefferson Market Police Court the following day.  He will be released from his confinement to-day," said the article.

But now, in 1916, change would come to the outmoded house when, in April, Rudulph Evans purchased No. 71 from Frank J. Maguire.   Perhaps unexpectedly, Evans did not seek the services of Pepe & Brother, but commissioned Robert Cowie, of the architectural office of William W. Bosworth, to transform the old structure.  The Record and Guide reported on August 5, 1916 that Evans was altering his building into two duplex apartments.

“One of the suites will be occupied by the owner and the other, with seven rooms and bath, is being held at $2,400 a year rental.”

The idea of two rather grant duplexes apparently quickly fell to the wayside to be replaced by a more financially advisable plan.  Cowie’s revised design added a floor, set back from the roofline behind a wide balcony and topped by a pergola.  Although Evans’s residential and working space at street level was still two stories, the intermediate floors contained one apartment each.

Wurtz Bros.captured the renovated structure shortly after completion.  The original appearance would have been similar to the Greek Revival homes that flank it.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/Collection/71%20Washington%20Place-24UFQE0AE3C.html

Cowie’s renovation was unlike the sometimes extensive exterior overhauls performed by the Pepe brothers.  Other than the additional story, he saved Evans money by focusing on the two lower floors.  Here he removed the stoop and placed the entrance to the Evans duplex squarely in the center of a three-sided, two story bay.  It was flanked by a door to the upper floors and a service entrance.   The second story bay was filled with small diamond panes.  On either side were niches; presumably intended to hold statuary, possibly by Evans himself.

Otherwise, except for stucco coating, and a picturesque Juliette balcony at the fourth floor, little changed to the 1838 façade.

The renovated building was ready for tenants in December 1917 when Mrs. Evangeline Brewster Dennis and Mrs. Harriet M. McKinley took apartments.

Soon after, on January 17, 1918, Evans opened his studio for an exhibition.  The New-York Tribune noted “One of the season’s most interesting events in art circles is the exhibition of the works of Rudolph [sic] Evans, an American sculptor, which opens to-day in Mr. Evans’s studio, 71 Washington Place.  Mr. Evans is one of only three American sculptors who have ever exhibited full length figures in the Paris Salon.”

Later that year, on December 21, the wedding of the Evans’s daughter, Lucy, took place in the spacious studio.

On June 29, 1918 Helen D. Hunt took an apartment in the building.  The widow of stockbroker Andrew D. Hunt, the 65-year old had led an interesting life which was only going to become more so.  A small article in the New-York Tribune on August 11, 1920 told of an automobile crash with a Broadway street car in which Helen was riding and “was badly shaken up.”  The motorcar was owned by Percy A. Rockefeller.  It was the first mention in newspapers of the link with the wealthy family that would end with Helen D. Hunt on the witness stand.

Helen had run the household of millionaire James Stillman, Sr.  She lived in the Stillman mansion until his death on March 15, 1918.  As housekeeper she was in charge of the staff and enjoyed a small suite of rooms that included a sitting room. 

Stillman’s daughter was Mrs. Percy A. Rockefeller.  His son, James A. Stillman, and his wife lived in the house.  An ugly and messy divorce case in 1921 brought into question the paternity of the younger Stillman’s son, Guy Stillman.

Mrs. Rockefeller appeared in court on June 15 to testify in support of her brother; saying that he had lived apart from his wife for months for months before the baby was born.  The New-York Tribune noted “With her was Mrs. Helen D. Hunt.”

When Helen was questioned, the defense suggested she was being influenced by the Rockefellers.  “Mrs. Hunt, you are employed by Mrs. Rockefeller, aren’t you, now?”

Helen had to confess that “I do things for her when she asks me to;” and when asked if Mrs. Rockefeller were the “only person that pays you anything, isn’t she, at the present time?” she was forced to reply “yes.”

In the meantime the Washington Place building became home to well-known figures.  On January 27, 1920 the up-and-coming architect Raymond M. Hood took an apartment.  Two years later he would partner with John Mead Howells in the building competition to design the Chicago Tribune Building.  Their winning design would bring the 41-year old Raymond Hood sudden acclaim as one of New York’s most talented architects.

Nina Witt occupied an apartment for several years with her daughter, Marion Bull.   In 1925 they had high-profile house guests in D. H. Lawrence and his wife.  On September 15 that year Lawrence wrote to Dorothy Brett describing the apartment.  “It’s quite a pleasant smallish arty house, with a negro cook Albertina.”  His critique of a local play was tepid.  “We went to the Greenwich Village theatre and saw a play about tramps—hoboes—amusing, but nothing.”

Helen D. Hunt died in her apartment here at the age of 78 on August 26, 1931. She had been ill for two months.  Until her death she had continued to be active in civic affairs and social welfare work.

In 1934, when Rudulph Evans was decorated by the President of France with the rank of Chevalier of the Legion of Honor “in recognition of his eminence as a sculptor,” American painter Audrey D. Buller was also living and working here.  She was listed in the 1935 Who’s Who in American Art and her works are currently displayed in prestigious museums like the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Museum of Modern Art, and the Art Institute of Chicago.

Rather surprising residents in 1940 were Prince and Princess Hubertus zu Loewenstein; exiles of Nazi Germany.   The New York Times explained they “are making their home here with the intention of becoming citizens.”

On March 18, 1940 the couple’s infant daughter Princess Maria Elizabeth Katerina Gabrielle Dorothea Constance Edwarda was christened.   She was believed to be the first American-born German princess.  Following the baptism, a reception was held at No. 71 Washington Place. Among the guests were Prince Nicholas Cantacuzene, a Russian exile, and Count Wolfgang Spiegelfeld of Austria.

Evans exhibited his "Fragment of a Memorial" in the National Sculpture Society's 1940 exhibition -- from the Exhibition Catalog.

Rudulph Evans sold No. 71 in 1949.  The new owner renovated the building in 1955 to include an art studio at ground floor with a library on the mezzanine.  Above there were now two apartments per floor other than the single fifth-floor penthouse.

Herman Gulack’s Greenwich Gallery took the lower levels by 1957.  Among the works he exhibited that year was Edward Hopper’s Automat.  The Greenwich Gallery was gone in 1958 when renowned photographer Diane Arbus and her husband, Allan, and daughters moved in.  By now the building was filled with celebrated residents.  Actress Ali MacGraw was on the second floor; Opi, the New Yorker cartoonist and his wife had an apartment on the third; and director of stage and television, Jess Kimmel lived in the penthouse.

Diane Arbus and her husband entered into a sort of separation before long and she took the girls to a Charles Street apartment.  Allen Arbus sublet the mezzanine of the duplex to Arthur Unger.  He would operate his Young World Press from the space for eight years.

In December 1959 Jess Kimmel directed the off-Broadway production of William Gibson’s Dinny and the Witches.  His television credits included his production of Show of Shows, The Red Buttons Show, and Naked City.

But in 1961 the 46-year old became despondent when he learned he was losing his hearing.  After not being heard from for some time, he was found dead in his penthouse on Tuesday night, May 30.  He had been dead “for several days” of an apparent suicide.

In 1982 the building was converted to cooperative apartments.  Freelance writer and researcher Joan M. Spano had lived on the third floor for nearly 20 years at the time.   Early on the morning of November 1986 the 55-year old woke up and lit a cigarette in bed.   When she dozed off again her cigarette fell to the bed linens, starting a fire.  Joan Spano died of smoke inhalation.   The fire was extinguished before it could spread to other apartments.

Today the penthouse has been replaced by a bunker-like structure that sits awkwardly atop the structure.  But otherwise Rudulph Evans’s 1916 remake of an 1848 relic is essentially unchanged.

photographs by the author

A 1915 Rebirth -- No. 124 Waverly Place

In 1838 Greenwich Village had undergone more than a decade of rapid development and expansion.  Washington Square, once a potter’s field and then a parade ground, was now girded by handsome mansions.  That year James Strong erected a Greek Revival style house at No. 124 Waverley Place, steps away from the exclusive park.

It appears Strong never intended to live in the house, completed in 1839.  But he included the upscale details that would attract renters—simple, but elegant ironwork; an exquisite entryway with sidelights, anthemion-decorated transom bar and door; and deeply paneled brownstone stepped wing walls flanking the stoop.

The fencing with Greek key motif at the bottom and palmettes at the top survives, as do the paneled, stepped wing walls.

Strong’s first tenant, M. Antoinette Varick, may have shocked the aristocratic Washington Square neighbors.  Her father, James Varick, originally a shoemaker, was born on January 10, 1750.  He was the son of Richard Varick (or Van Varick—records disagree) and a black slave, and was baptized in the Dutch Church.  In 1790 he married Aurelia Jones and the couple had four sons and three daughters.

Varick, as did many of New York’s black and mixed-race citizens, worshiped at the John Street Methodist Church; but by the end of the Revolution were disillusioned by the bold racism they endured.  A small group including James Varick and Peter Williams walked away in 1796, forming the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church. 

James Varick died on July 22, 1827, just 18 days after the church’s thanksgiving service for the abolition of slavery in New York.  Now his daughter, M. Antoinette Varick, became among the earliest tenants in the house on Waverley Place, which seems to have been operated as a high-end boarding house.

Also listed here in Longworth’s American Almanac in 1838 was George H. Crook, a shoemaker like James Varick.  But M. Antoinette Varick would appear here at least through 1847.  Antoinette was highly involved in the plight of New York’s black community; serving as a manager of the School of the Association for the Benefit of Colored Children and for the Association for the Benefit of Colored Orphans for years.

In 1841 an advertisement appeared in the New York Tribune as the Strongs looked for household help.  “Girls Wanted:  Wanted, a girl as cook—Also one as chambermaid—they must be honest, industrious, and sober.”

As the Civil War broke out, the Strong family still owned the Waverley Place property.  The boarding house was now run by a Mrs. Potter.  But war of a different kind was brewing much closer to home for Peter Strong, “a well-known lawyer of this city,” according to The New York Times. 

Peter’s wife, Mary, sued him for divorce.  What followed was a lurid court case with a score of witnesses and shocking testimonies that riveted the public for weeks.  On November 24, 1865 The New York Times admitted “No case before our courts for many years has attracted greater attention that than of Strong against Strong.”  The newspaper attributed the fascination to “The social relations and positions of the parties, and the singular charges and countercharges published in the newspapers.”  The fact was that claims of illegitimate pregnancy, scandalous sexual relations, and the suggestion that No. 124 Waverley Place was a house of ill repute made the case delicious for Victorian readers.

The house on Waverley played an important part in the case, going back to 1863.  When Police Officer William Jones was questioned on December 20, 1865 he immediately painted a shocking picture of the house.  “No. 124 Waverley-place was in my patrol in the Spring of 1863, at night; my attention was attracted by the sign; I saw women go in and out; from their appearance I should judge them to be loose women.”

Another witness that day, H. C. Allen said “I live at No. 171 Macdouglas-street, and have about twenty-eight years; it is near Waverley-place; I know the general reputation of No. 124 Waverly-place and what was said about it; it was bad so far as I heard.”

Peter Strong’s brother, Edward, lived in the Waverley Place house; as did Mary Hillaker and her husband.  Mary’s sister, "Mrs. Hecksher," gave starling testimony against Edward Strong.  She said that her sister, Mary, had “criminal relations” with him.  According to Mrs. Hecksher, “She said that Edward Strong had violated her, and that afterward he had taken advantage of his position and threatened her with discovery in order to secure the gratification of his passions; she told me also that she had begged and implored him to leave Waverley; that he could and she could not.”

Mrs. Hecksher also related incidences of abuse and violence.  The boarders took meals together in the dining room and “one morning, at breakfast, Edward said to her, ‘Mary, I want to speak to you in my room;’ that when she went there, he locked the door, pointed a loaded pistol at her, and said ‘Mary, if you scream you are a dead woman.’…”she then told me that he had repeatedly threatened her with violence; that on one occasion, at Newport, she went out to drive, rather at the instance of her husband, who thought she was disagreeable not to go; and that in the conversation in the carriage, Edward Strong became very much excited and angry, and offered to throw her off the cliff, and that she herself thought she was lost.”  Mrs. Hecksher told the court that her sister and had been “repeatedly threatened with a pistol.”

Even more shocking was evidence concerning Mrs. Potter herself.  Her niece testified that she had moved into the house on the day after Christmas, 1862.  She occupied a “large room on the top floor—an attic room; there was a fire there when I built it; I generally sat in Mrs. Potter’s room—the back room on the first floor; the business of the house was transacted in her room.”

The niece said that in January 1863 Mrs. Potter became ill.  Her limbs became swollen and she became sensitive to noise and drafts.   Mrs. Potter’s niece nursed her ailing aunt, and testified that she never saw men coming or going from the bedroom or the backroom.

The truth was, however, that Mrs. Potter did not have severe rheumatism as suggested.  She was pregnant.  Another boarder, Mary Eliza Marvin, related to the court “Mr. Potter went away in the morning about half-past six or seven, and returned in the evening at from six to eight o’clock.”  Apparently he, too, was unaware that Mrs. Potter was with child. 

Then, one day Mary Marvin checked in on her landlady.  There was a fetus on the mattress next to Mrs. Potter.  “I was not present just at the time when Mrs. Potter had the miscarriage; I saw her about a quarter of an hour afterward; she had then a very violent flow; I saw the child; I cannot tell how old it was; it was the first one I had ever seen—of the kind; I had not noticed before that Mrs. Potter was pregnant.”

What had started out as a divorce proceeding between Peter and Mary Strong had turned into a sordid pulp novel.  Newspapers reported every word of testimony, verbatim, throughout the entire trial.  No. 124 Waverley Place became the central point of a Civil War era Peyton Place.

The house seemed to be cursed with scandal and bad press.  In 1887 the ugly matter of the Strong trial was mostly forgotten.  Mary Howell, described by The New York Times as “a spinster, 35 years old,” had earlier partnered with her widowed sister, Sarah Jones, to purchase the boarding house.   Born in Wales, the sisters were having a hard time making ends meet.  The Times said “Business had been bad and the women were threatened with pecuniary difficulties.”

Mary’s troubles were enhanced by her health.  She suffered from dyspepsia.  Early on the morning of February 25, 1887 Mary did not make her normal appearance.  Concerned, Sarah instigated a search of the house.  The following day The Times reported “She was found hanging to a grating in the rear of the cellar.  She had twisted a large handkerchief into a rope.”  Mary Howell’s last minutes were apparently horrific.  “The space between the grating and the floor was so small that the woman was compelled to draw up her feet to bring her weight to bear on the rope.”

Until only a few years ago, the magnificent 1839 paneled entrance door with carved anthemion designs had survived.

Despite the awful happenings in the house, it continued to be operated as a boarding house.  The following year an advertisement in The Sun offered “Single and double rooms with board; terms moderate; fire, gas and bath.”  In 1889 another caveat was added, “strictly respectable;” and in 1892 the terms had changed to “gentlemen only.”  The once-upscale tone of the residence, by now, had noticeably degraded.

The decision to convert the boarding house to a male-only establishment may have had its drawbacks.  On April 3, 1905 Acting Inspector Hogan of the Second Inspection District and three “of his sleuths” arrested three men, charged with “running a hand-book at 124 Waverley place,” according to The Sun.  John Roberts, William Bishop, and Joseph Larbee operated an illegal horse betting operation here.

A witness before the U.S. Senate’s Committee on Interstate Commerce later explained how it worked.  “If I am running a handbook, I accept no money from anybody except somebody I know.  There is no chance for the officers of the law to get into a pool room that runs under cover unless they are introduced by some of the fraternity.”

Despite being on the fringe of the still-fashionable Washington Square, the boarding house continued to draw blue collar residents.  In 1909 James J. Crawford, a fire fighter, was earning $647.50 a year—about $17,000 today.

But change was taking place in Greenwich Village.  Now the center of Manhattan’s bohemian culture, subterranean coffee and tea shops sprung up, populated by artists, musicians, poets and writers.   And a real estate developer, Vincent Pepe, was making his mark in the neighborhood by renovating vintage structures into modern homes and studios.   In 1915 he purchased No. 124 Waverly Place (by now the street name had lost its second “e”) for $20,000 in cash and set to work making it over.

On December 4, 1915 The Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide outlined the far-reaching changes Pepe & Brother had done.  “At 124 Waverly place was a four-story, American-basement house…It had old-fashioned mahogany doors, trim and mantles, a plumbing system of bygone years and, in fact, was generally decrepit.  For the last twelve years it had been used as a rooming house.”

The article explained that Pepe’s architect, Frank M. Vitolo, had removed the central pier of the openings to the right of the entrance to make broad studio windows.  He added stucco to “the front wall and erected iron balconies for window boxes on each floor; rearranged the basement so as to provide an apartment for the janitor in the rear and a single room studio with bath in front.”

Real Estate Record & Builder's Guide, February 3, 1917 (copyright expired)

The plans called for “On the parlor floor to erect a partition to provide a kitchenette, the other rooms to remain as they were.  The second floor was altered by removing partitions to make a large front room, and the third and fourth floors were treated in almost the same manner.  On the top floor, however, the roof beams were raised in front about eight feet and in the rear three feet, to provide for a studio window opening.”

The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide published before and after examples -- December 4, 1915 (copyright expired)

Pepe upgraded the plumbing, water, and heating and “the house was wired for electricity.”  The Edison Monthly said “Electricity is evident in ceiling bowls in the hallways and in lamp brackets of Colonial design in the apartments.”  The cost of the renovations was $10,000—exactly double what Pepe had estimated, and half as much as the building had cost him. 

The Edison Monthly noted that while Pepe had modernized the structure “in the European fashion,” he sympathetically preserved some vintage details.  “Place was given the one treasure the house possessed, a fine doorway of Colonial antecedents.”

The Guide noted that the entire house was rented even before construction was completed, “without dickering as to terms.”  Upon opening, the annual rent for Pepe’s apartments were: “basement, large room and bath, $360; first floor, $840; second floor, $900; third floor, $840; fourth floor, $1,000; rear studio, top $720.   By today’s standards, the most expensive of these would cost the tenant just under $2,000 a month.  But, as The Edison Monthly pointed out, “While the present occupant pays high rental, there are dozens of prosperous artists who watch and wait.”

The newly-completed alteration included wrought iron window boxes.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

When the alterations were completed the new tenants moved in:  Robert Bruere had taken the parlor floor for two years, Benjamin Allen leased the second floor for a year; Lawrence K. Frank, who worked in the accounting department of the New York Telephone Co., was on the third floor; and sculptor Rudolph Evans rented the spacious fourth floor.  Evans would go on to create notable sculptural portraits like that of Thomas Jefferson in Washington D.C.’s Jefferson Memorial; two statues in the United States Capitol; and the statue of Robert E. Lee in the Virginia State Capitol.

Evans was impressed with what the Pepe brothers had done.  In 1916 The New York Times noted “At 71 Washington Place, an alteration for occupancy by artists will soon be commenced by Rudolph Evans, a sculptor, who is a tenant in the remodeled house at 124 Waverley Place.”

Millionaire Robert Hoe’s name was well known not only in Manhattan, but nationwide, as the head of the massive printing press manufacturing business.  His grandfather and father were esteemed members of society and the printing profession.

photo Edison Monthly, June 1916 (copyright expired)

His wife, the former Ethel Louise Dodd, was wooed by the exciting new ideas and lifestyles of avant-garde Greenwich Village.    As 1916 drew to a close, she told her husband “she no longer had any affection for him and did not desire the responsibilities of married life; [Hoe] asserted she was given up to the pursuit of ‘new thought’ and ‘modern philosophy,” reported The Evening World on January 9, 1917.

She left the couple’s commodious home on East 49^th Street in November 1916 and moved to No. 124 Waverly Place.  Robert Hoe filed for divorce in Reno, Nevada.

In 1918 Pepe & Bro. rented a studio to John Wallace Gillies.  He would go on to be considered the foremost photographer of architecture in America.  At seeming conflict with his artistic side, he was as well known in the sports rifle community.  He organized the Roosevelt Rifle Club of New York and the winner of many small-bore rifle shooting contests.

Over the years tenants like Mrs. Marjory Morten came and went.  She lived here in 1921 when she helped in the fund raising for the Girls School at Haifa.  And in 1929, when Vincent Carney Pepe’s daughter, Alice Elizabeth, was married to William Edgar Craig; newspapers announced “After a wedding trip to Havana, Mr. and Mrs. Craig will live at 124 Waverly Place.”

A handsome Greek Revival mantel survives.  photo http://www.elliman.com/new-york-city/124-waverly-place-2-manhattan-zfshocz

On the whole Vincent Pepe’s design survives intact.  A cleaning establishment takes the place of the former basement studio; but upstairs the single sun-drenched studios per floor remain undivided.

non-credited photographs by the author