The 1887 Michael Hughes House - 365 West 123rd Street

 

The blocks just east of Morningside Park saw a flurry of construction in the 1880s.  In 1886, real estate developer Samuel H. Bailey purchased "the lots on the northeast corner of Ninth avenue and One Hundred and Twenty-third street," as reported by the Record & Guide and hired architect Charles E. Baxter to design a row of brownstone-faced houses on the site.  Completed on April 30, 1887, the neo-Grec-style homes were three stories tall above high English basements.  Baxter blended touches of Queen Anne into his design.  Instead of the striking copper oriels seen at the second floor of the other houses, the end homes, including 365 West 123rd Street, featured full-height angled bays.

That house became home to the Michael Hughes family.  He and his wife, the former Mary A. O'Grady, had four children, three sons and a daughter.  

The two rows of stylized acanthus leaves that decorate the cornice enhanced the Greek motif.

Hughes joined dozens of men who were "engaged in business in the northern part of the city of New York" in signing a petition to the Common Council on November 27, 1895.  Pointing out that the district "lying north of One Hundred and Twenty-fifth street and fronting the Harlem river is a rapidly growing locality," they complained that the riverfront was not keeping up.  The businessmen asked for "wharves and dock facilities" which would make merchandise more easily received.

Mary was looking for a servant in September 1897.  The wording of her ad suggested the girl would not have an easy workday.  "Strong girl for general housework."

Nearly a half century after moving into the house, Michael Hughes died on March 26, 1921.  His funeral was held in Annunciation Church three days later.  

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Mary A. Hughes advertised 365 West 123rd Street for sale the following summer.  Her ad in the New York Herald read, "House, brownstone, 10 rooms, fine condition; could be used by two families."  It was purchased by Michael T. Reilly and his wife Catherine.  

In the fall of 1940, the Daily News challenged housewives to be a "pigskin clairvoyant" by picking the weekend's football game winners.  Of the 117,263 entries who guessed the outcome of the November 30 games, Catherine Reilly received the third prize of $25.

Michael T. Reilly sold 365 West 123rd Street in September 1941 to Thelma York for $5,500 (about $117,000 in 2026 terms).  She and her family lived here nine years, selling the house to Jacob Goodman & Co. in April 1950.

When Daisy Hatcher purchased it two years later, The New York Times described the property as a "four-story rooming house."  Among the roomers living here that year was musician and band leader Rudolph "Rudy" King.

Born in Trinidad, Rudy King introduced the steel pan to the United States in 1949.  The evolution of the steel pan began in Trinidad when empty cans were struck with bamboo shoots, according to King in an interview later.  He organized a band called the Tropican.  

Of the original row of six homes, three survive, including 365 West 123rd Street.  Greatly intact on the exterior, a renovation completed in 1989 resulted in a two-family home.''

photographs by the author

The 1886 353 and 355 West 123rd Street

 

In May 1885, architect M. Louis Ungrich began sketching out "ten three-story and basement brick and stone private dwellings" on West 123rd Street between Morningside and Manhattan Avenues for developers Frank Tilford and F. K. Keller.  Ungrich designed the row as alternating, five mirror-image pairs--A-B, C-D, A-B, C-D, and A-B.  

Among the A and B models were 353 and 355 West 123rd Street.  The 16-foot wide homes were clad in red brick and trimmed in brownstone above the stone-faced basement level.  The iron areaway fencing and stoop railings included light-hearted squiggly spindles, typical of the Queen Anne style.  A prominent bandcourse and an intermediate cornice defined the stories.  The two houses shared an elaborate terra cotta panel of swirling vines around a shell at the third floor, and a terra cotta rondel of a flower backed by a sunburst decorated each gable.

On November 24, 1886, Tilford & Keller sold 353 West 123rd Street to real estate operator John W. Hutchinson for $15,000--about $500,000 in 2025.  Days after the family moved in, a near disaster occurred.

On December 7, The New York Times reported, "Fire broke out at 4:30 o'clock yesterday morning in the basement of No. 353 West One Hundred and Twenty-third street...occupied by J. W. Hutchinson and routed the family out."  Hutchinson estimated the damage at about $20,000 in today's money.

The Hutchinsons' residency was short lived.  In May 1889, they sold the house to banker Cornelius Brinkman Outcalt and his wife, the former Irene Augusta Curtis, for $14,250.  The couple had three children, Cornelius Jr., Louis Clark, and John C.--aged 18, 15 and 7 years old, respectively, at the time.  

(The couple had earlier suffered intense grief.  Their first child, Marie Cecilia, died at the age of five in May 1873.  Then, in unspeakable tragedy, Paul Curtis and Gussie Whitney died on October 13 and October 25, 1884.  They were seven and four years old.)

Cornelius B. Outcalt was born on April 21, 1851.  On May 25, 1861, at the outbreak of the Civil War, he enlisted in the 7th Regiment, New York State Militia, listing his age at 21.  How an officer could mistake a ten-year-old for an adult is puzzling, but Outcalt was enlisted as a private and served for 30 days.  

When he and the family moved into the West 123rd Street house, he was the cashier of the National Exchange Bank, but he shortly afterward retired.  He became the center of a bizarre mystery in 1895.

On February 21, Outcalt attended a dinner hosted by the newspaper The Fourth Estate.  While there, he met William Sammons, the brother of the newspaper's editor, who was described by the New York Herald as "something of a politician."  Outcalt did not return home that evening.  The Sun reported, "They [i.e., Outcalt and Sammons] drank a great deal of wine, and the next day both were missing."

Four days later, a message was telephoned to a drugstore near the Outcalt house informing the family that Cornelius was "at the Orawaupum Hotel, in White Plains, with a stranger," as reported by the New York Herald.  The Sun said that Irene and Cornelius, Jr. traveled there with Detective Brock, a friend of the family.

They found Outcalt, disoriented, in one room of the hotel.  The Sun said he "had the appearance of being sick and dazed."  Sammons was asleep in the adjoining room.  When Brock arrested him, Sammons protested that he would not be arrested.  "But you are arrested," he was told.

The New York Herald reported, "White Plains was in a great excitement over the arrest.  It was reported that Simmins [sic] had been drugging his companion and that a deep mystery was about to be unveiled."  Back home, on February 26, a reporter from The Sun visited the Outcalt house.  The journalist wrote, "He was about to explain the matter when his wife interfered, and prevented him from saying."  Sammons was later acquitted and the details of the supposed kidnapping were never revealed.

The following year, on February 4, 1896, Irene Augusta Outcalt died in the house.  In reporting her death, one newspaper commented, "In her early days, Mrs. Outcalt was one of the belles of metropolitan society."  In March 1898, Cornelius, Jr. sold the house to Thomas Daniels.

In the meantime, John Sullivan and his wife, the former Elizabeth A. Mars, lived next door.  John died at 355 West 123rd Street on May 19, 1896 at the age of 79.  The New York Herald said his death came "after a lingering illness, which he bore with Christian fortitude."  Following his funeral in the parlor, a solemn requiem mass was held for him at the Church of St. Joseph at the corner of Columbus Avenue and 125th Street.

Elizabeth A. Sullivan died three years later, on April 21, 1899.  The house was sold to Nathan Pollock, a clothing manufacturer.  He declared bankruptcy on January 28, 1901, after which the house was operated as a boarding house.  Among the residents in 1904 was a piano teacher, who advertised, "Teacher of piano desires pupils; Dr. Mason's system of touch and technique; terms moderate.  Studio 355 West 123d st."

Edward S. Root lived in the house as early as 1908.  Born in 1857, he was Fire Chief of the 24th Battalion and the head of E. Root & Co., "electrical subway engineers and contractors."

By then, 353 West 123rd Street was a rooming house.  During the 1907-08 academic year, three students attending the Jewish Theological Seminary of America roomed here, as well as did Rabbi Joseph Hevesh, a graduate of the seminary.

An interesting roomer in 353 West 123rd Street was Rev. Francis Le Baron.  Born in Plymouth, Massachusetts in 1824, he came from "a family which traces its ancestry to the first Francis Le Baron, who came to New England among the earliest settlers," according to The Sun.  After serving as a Unitarian clergyman, "he left the church when he was 30 years old to engage in literature," said the newspaper.  Among his works were A Discourse on the Death of Abraham Lincoln, Atheism Among the People, and The Poet and His Song.  Among his celebrated friends were Oliver Wendell Holmes, James Russell Lowell, Ralph Waldo Emerson, sculptor Daniel C. French, and Edward Everett Hale.

On the morning of February 16, 1911, well after the time that Le Baron normally got up, someone checked to see if the 87-year-old was alright.  He had died during the night.  The Sun reported, "Mr. Le Baron lost his fortune some years ago.  His friends in New York are arranging for the removal of his body to Boston, where it will be cremated."

Later that year, an advertisement in the New York Evening Telegram advertised 353 West 123rd Street for rent.  "Furnished 11 room house, exceptionally clean; good neighborhood, $75 rent; account sickness."  The monthly rent would translate to about $2,480 today.

The roomers in both houses were still professional.  Among those living at 355 in 1917 was Dr. Otto Lorenzi.  A graduate of Sibley College of Cornell University, he was an engineer with the Combustion Engineering Corporation.  And living next door was Fernando Staud Ximenes, who was on the interpreting staff of American Institute of International Law.

In 1941, the paneled outer and inner entrance doors were intact in both houses.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Both buildings continued to be rooming houses through mid-century.  A renovation to 355 in 1966 resulted in one apartment in the parlor level, with furnished rooms throughout the rest of the building.  It was most likely during that remodeling that the brick was painted (ironically enough, brick red) and the brownstone details at the parlor level painted white.

No. 353 was converted into a two-family residence in 1983, with duplex apartments on the basement and parlor levels, and second and third floors.  

photographs by the author

The 1887 Dr. John J. McPhee House - 367 West 123rd Street

 

Architect Charles E. Baxter designed a row of brownstone-faced houses for developer and builder Samuel H. Bailey on "the lots on the northeast corner of Ninth avenue and One Hundred and Twenty-third street," as described by the Record & Guide.  Completed on April 30, 1887, they rose three stories above English basements.  Baxter blended touches of Queen Anne into his overall neo-Grec designs. The end homes featured full-height angled bays. 

The identical center homes, including 367 West 123rd Street, boasted striking, curved metal oriels capped with delicate iron cresting.  Their double-doored entrances within columned porticoes sat atop solid, stone stoops.  The windows of the parlor and top levels sat within architrave neo-Grec frames.  Complex multi-level pressed metal cornices crowned the design.

Dr. John J. McPhee lived here by the early 1890s.  The young physician had graduated from the Medical Department of the University of Vermont in 1890 and was now a visiting neurologist and professor with the Post Graduate Medical School and Hospital.

In 1895, Mylon H. Fox and his wife, the former Mary Jones, purchased the house.  The couple were born in 1840 and 1842 respectively, and living with them was Mary's mother, Irene N. Jones, the widow of Thaddeus S. Jones.  Irene died in the house on April 5, 1896 at the age of 89.

On July 19, 1898, the Foxes sold 367 West 123rd Street to Benjamin C. Bent and his wife, Louise Linden, for $16,000 (about $624,000 in 2025 terms).  The husband and wife were both musicians.

Born in England in 1847, Bent came to New York City around 1872.  In 1884, he became the cornet soloist in Gilmore's Band.  Louise was born Louise Pott on September 10, 1862 in New York City.  She began studying saxophone and made her first public performance in 1876.  The couple met in May 1878 and a romance quickly developed.  Bent, who was 30 years old, and Louise, who was not yet 16, eloped to Newport and were married on July 18.  

Benjamin C. Bent. (original source unknown)

Before long, the two performed and toured mostly independently.  Louise was known by audiences as Louise Linden--the surname of her brother-in-law and teacher Fred der Linden.  By the time they purchased 367 West 123rd Street, they were appearing together.  Three months earlier, on March 27, 1898, they appeared in a benefit performance at the American Theater.

Louise was featured on this poster around 1880. from the collection of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania

The Bents' residency at 367 West 123rd Street was cut short five months after purchasing the house.  On December 30, 1898, Benjamin C. Bent died "from paralysis of the brain," as reported by the New York Herald.  He was 51 years old.  Recalling that he had been "for many years the principal cornet soloist of Gilmore's Band," the newspaper said he, "was considered one of the most finished artists on that instrument in his profession."

Less than two months later, on February 16, 1898, Louise Linden Bent advertised in the New York Herald, "At sacrifice, handsome 3 story and basement brown stone house; terms reasonable.  367 West 123d st."  She moved to the Bronx where she died in 1934.

The new owner leased the house to a succession of occupants for decades.  In the spring of 1910, policeman Walter F. Shea rented it.  Shortly after moving in, he was severely injured.  On May 22, The New York Times reported, "While traveling nearly a mile a minute to overtake a speeding automobile, Motorcycle Policeman Walter Shea was thrown violently to the road yesterday morning when his motorcycle broke in half."

The article explained that Shea was patrolling the Merrick Road in Queens when he noticed the speeder.  "His motorcycle could make fast time, and he opened it up, and started in pursuit."  It appeared that the frame broke when he drove over a rough spot in the highway.  The Brooklyn Eagle reported, "Shea is in now in St. Mary's Hospital, suffering from numerous injuries, both internal and external.  His condition is said to be precarious."

The stoop of 367 West 123rd street shares a railing with the house on the end of the row.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Around 1917, the house became home to the St. Joseph's Council, No. 443, Knights of Columbus.  In addition to the normal activities of fraternal organizations, the members of this one were avid runners.  On November 25, 1919, The Daily Item said the club was "one of the fastest teams in the metropolitan district."

Like many social organizations throughout the city, St. Joseph's Council entertained troops passing through New York City.  On May 3, 1919, for instance, the New-York Tribune announced that a dance would be held here "for men in uniform," and on April 16, The New York Times reported there would be "entertainment by the K. C. at 367 West 123d Street from 2 until 8 in the evening" for the troops.

At the end of the war, the club's focus returned to running.  On January 18, 1920, The Sun reported, "St. Joseph's Council, Knights of Columbus, of Harlem, was granted a sanction...to conduct an open handicap road run on Sunday afternoon, April 18."  The five-and-three-quarter-mile run began "in front of the clubhouse, 367 West 123d street," said the article.

By the beginning of the Great Depression, the house was operated as rented rooms.  An advertisement in The New York Age on May 11, 1940 offered, "Neatly furnished rooms, rent, all improvements, $4 up."  The base rent would translate to about $89 per month today.

A renovation completed in 1983 resulted in two duplex apartments--in the basement and parlor level, and in the second and third.  

photographs by the author

The 1887 Edward Morrison, Jr. House - 373 West 123rd Street

 

In March 1886, Samuel H. Bailey purchased "the lots of the northeast corner of Ninth avenue and One Hundred and Twenty-third street," as described by the Record & Guide.  Bailey was a developer and builder, and his wife, Mary, E., seems to have been the business end of the partnership.  When Bailey completed a row of houses on the site on April 30, 1887, the titles were listed in Mary's name.

The identical residences were designed by Charles E. Baxter.  Faced in brownstone and three-stories tall above English basements, they were a blend of the neo-Grec and Queen Anne styles.  The double-doored entrances above the sturdy, stone stoops sat within columned porticoes.  The parlor and third floor windows had architrave neo-Grec frames.  Colorful stained glass transoms graced the parlor and second-floor openings.

Baxter introduced Queen Anne at the second floor with curved metal oriels capped with delicate iron cresting.  The metalwork was embossed with jaunty bosses.  Elaborate multi-level, pressed metal cornices completed the design.

via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Baileys rented the houses for a year, before selling the group to Michael Hughes in April 1888.  The price of each of the 16-foot-wide residences was $17,000, or about $562,000 in 2025 terms.

No. 373 West 123rd Street became home to the Edward Morrison, Jr. family.  Morrison was a director in the Central Pacific Railroad.  He and his wife had two children, Beatrice and Edward 3d.

The parlor was the scene of a society wedding at 8:00 on the night of April 4, 1894.  The New York Herald reported, "Miss Fannie Fielding Stewart, daughter of the late Alexander T. Stewart, was married to Mr. William Wallis Young, of Orange, N. J., last evening...at the home of her sister, Mrs. Edward Morrison Jr."  (The sisters' father should not be confused with millionaire drygoods merchant Alexander Turney Steward.)  The article noted, "Little Beatrice Morrison, the bride's niece, was maid of honor, and Masters Edward Morrison, 3d, and Lyle Wallis were pages."

Edward's father visited the family on June 13, 1897.  Edward Morrison, Sr. was a respected stockbroker, having first worked on Wall Street as a clerk when he was 13 years old.  He acquired his seat in the Stock Exchange in 1869.  

Around 5:00 that afternoon, the two Edwards went for a walk.  At the corner of Amsterdam Avenue and Morningside Drive, "the elder Morrison fell to the sidewalk unconscious," according to The Sun.  The 75-year-old was taken to Manhattan Hospital where doctors said he was "suffering from nervous collapse."  The article mentioned that the patient was "well to do."

Morrison, Sr. was sent to his home at West 39th Street to recover.  After a week of convalescing, he was expected to return to his office on Monday, June 21.  But on Saturday, reported The Sun, "he again became very sick and continued to fail."  The broker died two days later.

The following year, on May 5, 1898, 373 West 123rd Street was sold to John and Mary Johnson for $15,500 (about $587,000 today).  The couple had a 14-year-old daughter, Helen.  Living with the family was Mary's niece, Eleanor Frances Weiss (who went by her middle name), who was also 14.  The Sun explained, "Miss Weiss's mother died two years ago and she came to live with Mrs. Johnson."  Frances's father, John Weiss was "a well-to-do wine merchant," as described by The Sun, and lived in Trenton, New Jersey.  The newspaper said that she and Helen "became inseparable companions [and] both attended Public School 14, at 117th street and St. Nicholas avenue."

On Friday March 11, 1899, the two girls asked Mary if they could go downtown to shop after school.  Oddly, that afternoon Frances left school early.  She told Helen she had something to do and asked her to wait for her after school.  Helen waited for an hour, but Frances never returned.  She came home and told her parents what had happened.

Mary Johnson sent a telegraph to Frances's grandmother in the Bronx.  A returned message said she was not there.  At midnight, Mary sent a telegraph to Frances's father.  He had not seen her, either, and asked "for full particulars of his daughter's absence," reported The Sun.

The next morning, a postcard was delivered to the Johnson house.  It said succinctly, "I am alive and well.  Good-by."

Although the card, sent from the post office at 105th Street and Columbus Avenue, was in Frances's handwriting, Mary Johnson was certain she had been abducted.  She told reporters,

Frances was a good girl and I don't believe she is staying away of her own free will.  She had no countenance with any men so far as I know and she was always home with me except when she was at school, and then she was with my daughter.  My own opinion is that some men and women have kidnapped the girl and are keeping her somewhere in the neighborhood of 105th street and Columbus avenue for purposes of their own.

As it turned out, Frances had answered an advertisement and was hired as a chambermaid in a house on West 105th Street.  Her new adventure, however, quickly came to an end.  The detailed description of the teen that was published in all the newspapers caught the eye of her employer, who turned her over to the police.  Frances's foray ended badly for her, and her life with the Johnsons was over.  On March 14, The Sun reported that her infuriated father, John Weiss, "took her to the Harlem Police Court yesterday.  On his statement that his daughter was incorrigible, Magistrate Brann committed her to the Home of the Good Shepherd."

The Johnson family left West 123rd Street that year, renting the house to George A. McDowell and his second wife, the former Jane Carpenter.  George had three children from his former marriage, Fannie, Fred and Alexander H.  (Two other children, Ella and George, had died.)  Moving in with the McDowells was Harry A. Hawkins who, like the McDowells, were members of the Religious Society of Friends, commonly known as the Quakers.

Both men were on the executive committee of the First-Day School Association of the Society of Friends.  The "New York Yearly Meeting of Friends" in 1899 was held in the McDowell house.

By 1903, Alexander H. McDowell was a member of the Society of Chemical Industry.  His scientific profession did not interfere with his religious affiliations and that year he was listed as secretary of the Young Friends' Aid Association.  The New York Charities Directory explained it, "Gives relief in food and clothing to the worthy poor families brought to their notice."  George A. McDowell was the treasurer of the group.

In September 1905, the International Peace Congress was held in Lucerne, Switzerland.  Pacifism is a major proponent of the tenets of the Society of Friends and on July 8, 1905, Friends' Intelligencer reported, "It is desirable that the society of Friends should be represented at the International Peace Congress."  The article said those who wished to contribute funds to sending a delegation should be sent to "Harry A. Hawkins, 373 West 123d Street, New York city, who is treasurer of the General Conference."

George A. McDowell had a scare on December 6, 1912.  The New York Times reported, "A collision between two elevated trains on the sixty-foot high S curve of the Sixth Avenue line in Columbus Avenue near 110th Street, at 10 o'clock yesterday morning caused the injury of ten persons."  The article said, "The three-car train plunged directly into the rear platform of the five-car train, and simultaneously there was a shower of electric sparks and much screaming by the passengers on both trains."  Aboard one of those trains was 72-year-old George McDowell.  The Sun reported he suffered, "nose cut and faced bruised."

Jane McDowell was also involved with charitable work.  An article in The Evening Post on February 15, 1914, explained that the Friends' Employment Society "gives sewing to needy women without regard to race or creed."  The group, organized in 1862, provided unfinished garments to needy women who then completed them.  The women received $1 or $2 per week for their work, which was used in hospitals and day nurseries.  The article said, "please send all contributions to the Treasurer, Mrs. Geo. A. McDowell, 373 West 123rd Street."

In May 1921, the Johnson family sold the house to Delia Trainor.  She leased it to George B. Kiely (who was organizing a girl's semi-pro baseball team in April 1922), before selling it in February 1923 to Louisa G. Hargrave.  The following month, Hargrave sold 373 West 123rd Street to Anna Stroetzel.  The notice in The Sun remarked that she "will occupy."

Wedged between modern structures today, the Morrison house survived as a single-family residence until 1999 when an apartment was installed in the basement.

photographs by the author

many thanks to reader Ted Leather for prompting this post.

The Harlem Club - Lenox Avenue and 123rd Street

On June 22, 1889, as the Harlem Club's new headquarters was nearing completion at the southwest corner of Lenox Avenue and 123rd Street, the Record & Guide opined, "In composition and in detail we scarcely know of a more creditable recent building."  It could also have been described as imposing.

Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, June 22, 1889 (copyright expired)

Well-to-do Victorian gentlemen were expected to hold at least one membership in a high-end social club.  As Harlem evolved into a vibrant suburb, its new residents found themselves inconveniently far from the club district, which was around 75 blocks to the south.  In 1879, "some of the most prominent gentlemen who reside in the upper part of the City," as described by The New York Times, formed the Irving Club of New-York, and in 1881 acquired an existing residence on Fifth Avenue near West 127th Street for its clubhouse.  The New-York Tribune later explained, "There were clubs and meeting places in the Harlem district at that time, but they lacked the qualities of the good clubs in the lower part of the city." 

Five years later, the name was changed to the Harlem Club.  Its membership, which had risen to 100 by now, was composed, according to a newspaper, "principally of bankers, brokers, lawyers, and merchants."  The Harlem Club listed as its purpose, "to cultivate friendly and social intercourse among its members, and to further and advance by means of concentrated action, matters of public welfare in the upper section of the City."

By 1888, the membership had more than tripled to 340 and, according to the New-York Tribune, the clubhouse "was too small and not attractive, and offered few club features for the younger element."  A committee was formed on January 14 that year to consider a more commodious and impressive clubhouse.

On September 8, 1888, The American Architect and Building News published an understated, one-line announcement that architects Lamb & Rich had completed plans for a four-story "brick club-house" with a projected cost of $50,000.

A terra cotta sunburst decorates the blind arch and delightful stone leaves parade along the upper frieze.  The Record & Guide described the black tiles as "japanned." 

Now, nine months later, the Record & Guide assessed the completed structure.  Hugh Lamb and Charles Alonzo Rich had created a hulking Romanesque Revival structure of brick and stone, with touches of Queen Anne.  The critic could find little to criticize, saying for instance, "Over each wing is a dormer in metal, of rather fantastic but effective design, relieved against the steep roof of dark japanned tiles..." and noting, "The gabled roof would have been uncouthly large if it had occupied the whole width of the central division.  The awkwardness is happily got over by the clever and effective introduction of a broad chimney on each side."

The actual costs, including the expensive furnishings, draperies, carpeting and such, had risen to $150,000--nearly $3.9 million in 2017.  On June 14, 1889, The New York Times reported, "The house is equipped in the latest style.  In the basement are bowling alleys and kitchens; on the first floor parlors and a library; on the second floor billiard rooms and a cafe; and on the third and fourth floors three private dining rooms and ten chambers."  The "chambers" were sleeping rooms.  Not only did out of town members need a place to stay, but so would those briefly in town on business from their summer residences.   The room, said the newspaper "are furnished in a manner that leaves nothing to be desired."

A long balcony, now lost, graced the second floor and stocky iron lampposts flanked the entrance.  photo via harlembespoke.blogspot.com

The New-York Tribune was more detailed, describing the first floor as having "a handsome reception room, a large drawing room, and back of these a cosey reading room with great easy chairs and comfortable lounges and handsome wall decorations.  In the hall stands a great stuffed bear, which was killed by the Grand Duke Alexis of Russia when he hunted big game with Buffalo Bill."

An antique tall case clock graced the entrance hall (above).  Masculine oak furniture in the library complimented the mantelpiece.   New-York Tribune, February 2, 1902 (copyright expired)

The Harlem Club opened its new clubhouse on June 13, 1889 with a reception for men-only.  It would be another six months before women would get a peek inside.  On December 13, The New York Times reported that the previous evening, "the wives and daughters and sisters of its members had their first chance to inspect the beauties of the new domain of their male relatives."

Although women's visits were restricted, a delicately-furnished Ladies Parlor accommodated them.  New-York Tribune, February 2, 1902 (copyright expired)

Plants and flowers softened the decidedly masculine atmosphere for the event.  "The building was prettily decorated with palms, roses, and flowering plants, and a band played in a floral bower in the reading room."  Oddly enough, despite the spacious dining rooms, the guests ate in the basement.  "Dancing went on for the younger folks in the drawing rooms, and supper was served by Steward Marsich on small tables arrange in the bowling alleys."

The Billiard Room was outfitted with five tables. New-York Tribune, February 2, 1902 (copyright expired)

Like its downtown counterparts, the exclusivity of the Harlem Club was not limited to wealth and family, but to religion.  On July 10, 1889, The New York Times wrote, "The Harlem Club, which recently moved into its handsome and costly new house...is disturbed by the raising of the Hebrew question."

The issue went back to the June 13 opening, at which Senator Jacob A. Cantor was a guest of George McGown.  Banker Robert Bonynge proposed him as a member that night.  Later another member approached the senator and said, "Jake, I have known you for a long time, and I am a friend of yours, but I must tell you that in this club we draw the line at Hebrews."

Understandably insulted, Cantor went to Bonynge and offered to withdraw his name.  But, explained The New York Times, "that gentleman and the other friends of the Senator had their blood up and said the Senator's name should stand and be passed on if it took all Summer."

The issue, indeed, simmered throughout all summer, and in the end the senator was not admitted.  A reporter who spoke to Cantor during the drawn-out process noted, "he was satisfied to know that if it did reject him, it would do so on account of his race and not on personal grounds."

The ugly and bigoted affair would stain the Harlem Club for the rest of its existence.

An early postcard depicted a nearly deserted Lenox Avenue. (copyright expired)

In the meantime, the clubhouse was the scene of "smokers, euchres, and concerts," among other events.  An annual exhibition of works by American artists was held here, and musical entertainments were common.  In January 1903, for instance, 200 hundred members and guests heard soloists perform operatic arias, after which supper was served in the dining rooms, and dancing went on until 1:30 in the morning.

During the 1904 Presidential campaign two members got into a heated political debate.  James O'Reilly insisted that Judge Alton B. Parker, the Democratic candidate, would beat Theodore Roosevelt in the election.  Herman J. Elkhoff was equally confident in his choice.  Their argument resulted in a bet, the conditions of which were "that the loser swim across the East River some time during the month following election day."

Parker lost the election and O'Reilly lost the bet.  True to his word, on Sunday morning November 10 he plunged into the river and swam to Randall's Island and back.  O'Reilly was physically prepared for the challenging feat.  The Evening World said, "he takes a plunge in the river every morning during the winter."  The apparently out-of-shape Elkhoff, on the other hand, was lucky his candidate had won.  Other members confided that he "was taking a desperate chance" with his bet.

Modern Harlem historians are wont to blame the decline of the Harlem Club on its anti-Semitic policies.  In fact, while the stigma of the Cantor affair hung on, it was more likely finances that brought the club down.  Suit was filed against the club on June 19, 1906, "to foreclose a mortgage of $60,000 on the club's property."  That was the original July 12, 1889 mortgage; a second mortgage of $52,779 brought the liabilities to more than $3 million in today's dollars.

In October a Supreme Court judge ordered the building to be sold at auction on January 31, 1907.  Two days before the sale, The New York Times wrote, "After nearly thirty years of active life, during which it came to be known as the first club of Harlem, the Harlem Club is about to be dissolved.  Upon the two iron lamps which stand on either side of the front steps of the handsome building...are glaring yellow posters announcing in large type that by order of the Supreme Court the clubhouse and its furnishings will be sold out at auction."

The clubhouse was purchased by developer William A. Martin.  He resold it within the month to the Eastman Business College of Poughkeepsie.  Established in 1859 by Harvey Gridley Eastman, the school readied young men for clerical business work.  Included in the curriculum were "Civil service, shorthand, typewriting, telegraph, penmanship and correspondence."

The new Manhattan branch was called the Eastman New York Business Institute, and an advertisement boasted that it was housed in "one of the most attractive structures in the most aristocratic neighborhood of Upper New York."

The school remained in the building until 1935, when it fell victim to the Great Depression and changing demographics.  Reportedly it refused to admit black students--a major problem in a neighborhood that was now significantly black.

The building was taken over as the Unity Mission Church, the headquarters for the charismatic if questionable "Father" Major Jealous Divine.  The leader of what at least one newspaper called "a Negro cult," Divine had made a name for himself by conducting revival meetings, curing the sick, and declaring himself a deity.  Telling his followers that he had been born a fully-formed adult, he amassed a following of tens of thousands.

The progress of the 4-foot, 6-inch leader was closely followed by law enforcement.  By 1933 he had "kingdoms" in Manhattan, Newark, Baltimore, Washington DC, Bridgeport and other cities.  A 38-page typewritten report ordered by Common Pleas Judge Richard Hartshorne that year credited Divine with "some socially helpful results."   But it also noted, according to a New York Times report, he "has equipped himself with an airplane, automobiles, several secretaries and a large staff of employes in his headquarters and 'kingdoms' in New York City" and that "his followers, including many whites, did in fact worship him as God."

Adherents to Father Divine turned over all their possessions to the Kingdom, earning them the status of angel.  The angels then took on a heavenly name--such as Lovely, or Kind.  The process caused endless problems, from followers trying to file tax reports under their unregistered new names; to husbands suing Father Divine for alienation of affection.

One case was that of chauffeur and oboe player Carl Davenport, who sued for $100,000.  He testified that he and his wife Alice, had been happily married until February 1933 when she was "subjected to public and private exhortation by Father Divine and his servants and employees."  Alice walked out on Carl and their eight children.

Her actions were mirrored by Madeline Green two years later.  She left her husband, Samuel N. Green, Jr., a postal clerk, and their seven children (aged 3 through 14).   Samuel filed a petition alleging that when she had abandoned them, she said the children should be sent to an orphan asylum.  She explained to the Children's Court judge "I have no more children.  The life I lead is one of sacrifice.  All belongs to God now."

When Judge Levy asked "How can you give up seven children and say you lead a Christ-like life?" she responded flatly "Because I see the light.  I am out of darkness."

A "children's dinner" in Unity Mission Church.  photo via libertynet.org

Father Divine's magnetism did not affect everyone.  Washington DC pastor Rev. Dr. Walter H. Brooks, a son of slaves, was asked about Divine's movement in April 1935.  "People like to be humbugged," was his curt reply.

Despite his constant legal battles (he was accused of having a harem, engaging in outrageous sexual activities, and illegally housing minors), Father Divine continued to lead throngs--his meetings drew tens of thousands of followers.  His main companion and assistant was No. 1 Angel, Faithful Mary; and his celebrity was such that in 1936 John Hoshor wrote God in a Rolls Royce.  The Rise of Father Divine, Madman-Menace or Messiah.

Following an incident in which three men were stabbed by one of his angels, Father Divine was wanted for questioning.  He fled Harlem, but was found hiding behind the furnace in the cellar of Milford, Connecticut house.  Divine had tried to "invisibilize" himself, but seems to have failed.

Initially he denied being Father Divine.  But at the West 123rd Street station house, he notified authorities that "the Father had resumed his earthly body," and he was once again Father Divine.

The Unity Mission Church left West 123rd Street in 1946.  The building was sold to Jacob Goodman & Co., which announced they were "considering plans for altering the property into apartments."  Instead, the firm resold the structure "to a buyer who intends to spend $50,000 on alterations," as reported by The New York Times on February 1, 1947.

Especially charming were the metal dormers, with openings on three sides. 

A second church took over the building; followed by the newly-formed Bethelite Community Baptist Church (known as the Bethel Gospel Assembly) in 1948.  Founded by Rev. Millard Alexander Stanley, he supposedly invented the name "Bethelite" after a drug addict said to him "If y'all gonna be a church, you better 'Be-The-Lite."

Bethel Gospel Assembly remained through 1984, when the congregation purchased and renovated the former Fennimore Cooper Junior High School.  The Lenox Avenue was sold to Pastor James David Manning's ATLAH (All The Land Anointed Holy) Worldwide Missionary Church.  He used the church's outdoor signboard to spread his outrageous and, some would say un-Christian, viewpoints.

Hateful messages like "We will take Harlem back from the pinch nose sellout Negroes and the demonic homos" and "Jesus would stone homos.  Stoning is the law" in 2014 drew protestors to Lenox Avenue.

Manning sided with Donald Trump, posting that Barack Obama was a Muslim and not a valid president.  In August 2014 he asserted that Russian President Vladimir Putin would release KGB intelligence "that would prove that President Obama is homosexual."

The splinter group is still in the former Harlem Club, although financial pressures make its future questionable (Manning refuses to pay taxes, insisting the church should be exempt like other religious institutions, although his is not a recognized sect.)

In the meantime, despite the loss of the Lenox Avenue balcony and altered windows; Lamb & Rich's striking clubhouse survives as an imposing reminder of a far different period in Harlem history.

photographs by the author