The Lost Jessie Crawford Whyte House and Store - 78 West 126th Street

 

To the left of the house, a wooden fence protects the horsewalk, or passage, that accessed the smaller residence in the rear.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Born in 1818, Jessie Crawford married James Whyte in Scotland around 1840.  The couple, who would have five sons and four daughters, arrived in America around 1850.  

The following year, Andrew Crawford (presumably Jessie's father) erected a two-story wooden house-and-store at 78 West 126th Street just east of Eighth Avenue (later renamed Frederick Douglass Boulevard).  The Harlem neighborhood in which the property sat was sparsely developed and was still mostly filled with farms and summer estates.  Crawford's humble building drew on the Italianate style.  That was especially apparent in the carpenter-made scrolled brackets below the eave line.  A second house sat in the rear yard.  

Jessie Whyte inherited the property in 1874.  It does not appear that the Whyte family occupied the property, but rented the two buildings.  Work-wanted advertisements often hinted at the social-economic status of the applicants.  One, on July 22, 1889, for instance, read: "Nurse or Chambermaid--By a young girl; willing and obliging; first-class references.  78 West 126th-st., rear."

The occupant of the rear house in 1896 placed an advertisement in the New York Journal that suggested she had made a heart-rending decision.  "A woman wishes to board her child where it will get mother's care.  McEvoy, 78 West 126th st., rear house."

Jessie Crawford Whyte bequeathed the property to her two eldest sons, David C. and James Richardson Whyte.  David transferred his portion on December 6, 1895 to James.  James was born on April 27, 1846 and married Emma Elizabeth Shafer in 1868.  The couple had nine children and, like David, they lived in New Jersey.

It appears that a physician occupied the ground floor at the time of the transfer.  He and his family would have lived behind the office.  Late in 1897, the front building was vacant and an advertisement on December 12 offered:

Back parlor, suitable for physician, newly furnished, hot, cold water; also second-story front and back rooms; fine location; references.  78 West 126th-st.

Instead, Louis Muliero signed a five-year lease for the ground floor on May 1, 1898 and moved his shoe store into the front space.  It would be the first of several shoe stores at the address.

The upper floor tenants at the turn of the century sought a cushy job, placing an ad in the New-York Tribune on June 8, 1900:

Caretakers--American couple; for vacant house; summer months or permanent; excellent reference and bond, no family; temperance.  Mr. Marion.  78 West 126th-st.

At the time of the Marions' ad, the Harlem neighborhood had greatly changed.  In 1879, elevated trains were extended into the area, making it a vibrant suburb.  In 1889, a dance school and hall was erected at 80 West 126th Street and in 1898 the Builders' League of New York erected a meeting hall at 74 West 126th Street.  The Whytes' little frame house was now a charming anachronism on the block.

The picturesque building, dwarfed by its neighbors, was captured by Charles Von Urban in 1932. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York.

Raphael Maresco was born in Italy in 1882 and came to New York in 1889.  He saved up $200 and purchased Louis Muliero's shoe store.  Maresco did well and by 1904 he had accumulated $900 that he planned "to send over to Italy for the sweetheart he left there," according to The New York Times.

In July, Gregoric Delavere approached the 22-year-old and asked him if he would sell the store.  According to The Times, "they agreed upon a price, and Delavere said he would like to sit around the store for a day or two and get an idea of the character and amount of business Maresco was doing."

On the second day, Delavere went out and brought back cheese and crackers and a pitcher of beer.  Maresco recalled later that Delavere did not drink the beer.  That was because he had spiked it with what police called "knock-out drops."  According to Maresco, the next thing he knew, "he was lying on the bed in the rear of the store."  He had been passed out for 24 hours.  His $900 life savings and Delavere were both gone.

Six weeks later, on August 28, Maresco was walking along West 111th Street when he saw Delavere sitting on the stoop of No. 303.  "He called Policeman Nelson of the East One Hundred and Fourth Street Station, and Delavere was locked up."  It is unlikely that Maresco recovered his money.

The ground floor of 78 West 126th Street continued to house a shoe shop.  In September 1912, the Hanover Shoe Company signed a lease.

James Richardson Whyte died on November 2, 1928.  The West 126th Street property was inherited by his four adult children, Jessie Whyte, Elsie W. Noyes, Ida K. Walker and Howard Whyte.

At least one of their tenants during the Depression years was a bit shady.  On March 1, 1934, The New York Sun reported that 34-year-old Joseph Antico and a friend, Dominick Coppa, had been arrested for operating a policy racket.  (Policy games were illegal lotteries, later known as the numbers racket.  The games preyed on low-income persons who dreamed of quick riches.)

Two months earlier, The New York Times reported that 78 West 126th Street had been sold to the Northlone Realty Corporation.  The New York Sun mentioned that the property had "been owned for eighty-four years" by the Whyte family.

Tillie Epps leased the building from Northlone Realty Corporation.  She encountered a difficult tenant in Robert Johnson in 1938.  On May 14 that year, The New York Age reported sarcastically:

When your landlady has the audacity to insult your integrity and demean your pride by demanding that you either move from her premises or pay her the rent, you can hardly be blamed for making some sort of righteous indignation.

Tillie Epps had Johnson arrested when, according to her, he "threatened her with bodily harm when she demanded that he either pay his board or move out of the house."  Johnson was charged with disorderly conduct and evicted.

A demolition permit was issued for the property in 1943.  Somewhat astoundingly, the lot remains vacant.

Transfiguration Lutheran Church - 74 West 126th Street

In 1894, general contractors banded together to form a united front against the tradesmen's unions.  The move was in direct response to a general strike of the carpenters' unions against sub-contracting, called "lumping."  At a meeting in Renwick Hall on September 24, the builders formed the Employers' and Builders' League, with architect and builder John P. Leo elected president.

The Real Estate Record & Guide later said it, "proved so effective and useful" that it was incorporated.  It was now known as The Builders' League of New York.

John P. Leo remained its president and when the group laid plans for a permanent headquarters in 1897, he personally designed the building.  Located in Harlem at 74 West 126th Street between Fifth and Lenox Avenues, it sat on a block lined with high-stooped brownstones.  Building Trades Employers' Association Bulletin later explained the group "settled there because a majority of its charter members dwelt north of Central Park and the location was convenient for them."

Completed in January 1898, the Record & Guide described the 25-foot wide building as "Romanesque, a style peculiarly adapted for use in a building of this kind."  Leo's design was a restrained take on Romanesque Revival, foregoing the chunky stone blocks and massive arches in favor of an ordered facade.

Three stories tall, the base was face in brownstone and the upper two stories in light gray brick.  Leo incorporated expected Romanesque Revival elements--heavy, ornate medieval carvings on the newels of the shallow stoop and brackets of the second floor balcony, for instance; but introduced arched openings--a hallmark of the style--only at the second floor.  The Record & Guide approved.  "The general effect of the building, externally, is one of dignity and solidity, and the details have been carefully studied by the architect."

Building Trades Employers Assoc Bulletin, January 1904, (copyright expired)

In the basement were bowling alleys.  On the first floor was a 10-foot wide entry hall leading to the staircase.  Also on this floor were the billiard room and cafe.  The second story contained a foyer, large ladies' parlor and a double-height assembly room, the ceiling of which rose 16 feet.  Designed for entertainments as well as meetings, it featured a musicians' gallery.  On the top floor were a small apartment for the steward, a board room, and the hat and coat room.  The interiors were, according to the Record & Guide, "tastefully decorated."

A reception for members was held on the evening of January 14, 1898; but the "formal opening" was held on March 10.  The Builders' League said of its upcoming "stag entertainment," "An interesting programme has been arranged and the occasion promises to be a most attractive one."

The Builders' League of New York may have been composed of builders and contractors, but they were chiefly well-to-do gentlemen.  For the dinner held on December 15, 1900, for instance, the assembly room was decorated with palms and flowers, and an orchestra played.  The Record & Guide noted, "a confusing variety of wines and cordials increased the palpatory enjoyment, and no doubt aided digestion."

By the turn of the century, the Clio Club used rooms in the League's building for its meetings.  Founded in 1892, its members were mostly women, although men were occasionally admitted.  Its main purpose was to foster "mental improvement and social intercourse."  By its own description, it would seem there was little that the club did not discuss.  In Club Women of New York, the Clio Club said it "interests itself in education, the home, philanthropy, arts, social economics, the drama, fiction, historical research, nature study, poetry, and women's ideal."

In December 1901, for instance, the club met to hear Mrs. Charles Milton Ford read her paper "Civic Responsibility;" Mrs. Daniel B. Van Houten, who spoke on "The Gospel of Wealth;" and Mrs. Charles Appleton Terry, who addressed the "One Great Need of a Crowded City."  The New-York Tribune mentioned, "Musical numbers were interspersed."

On July 20, 1909, the Builders' League sold their clubhouse to the Harlem Swedish Evangelical Lutheran Church.  The church had been located at 191 East 121st Street for years.  By 1910 it shared the building with the Lenox Avenue Union Church, which moved from 39 West 119th Street.

Interestingly, while the Harlem Swedish Evangelical Lutheran Church held the mortgage on the property, it was the Lenox Avenue Union Church that hired architect Nathan G. Kelsey in June 1912 to renovate the structure from a clubhouse to a proper church.  Kelsey's plans called for new structural beams, interior walls and, most importantly, "new front wall."  The renovations cost the church $10,000--more than a quarter of a million dollars today.  When completed, there was no trace of John P. Leo's club building.

A postcard showed the astounding make-over.  The rough-cut blocks of Leo's basement level are all that are left of the original design.

Kelsey's two-part design featured a rusticated brick base interrupted by three pointed-arch openings trimmed in terra cotta.  The churches saved money by using brick almost exclusively in the detailing.  The quoins and paneled spandrels of the two-story upper portion were executed in brick rather than stone.  The three double-height Gothic arches were given terra cotta drip moldings.  Kelsey turned from neo-Gothic to Flemish Renaissance for the high gable, where brickwork, more than the eave line, suggested the stepped motif.

Two years later, the Lenox Church announced an upcoming move.  Having merged with the Central Church of the Disciples of Christ, in February 1914 the two congregations reported that a new edifice would be erected "in the vicinity of 110th Street."

With its new home completed, the Lenox Avenue Union Church sold its share of the 126th Street church to the Harlem Swedish Lutheran Church on October 18, 1918.  But the Swedish congregation would not stay much longer.

The demographics of the Harlem neighborhood had starkly changed.  The population was now mostly black--an issue that did not escape the notice of the United Lutheran Church.  In 1920, the Church moved to establish a "mission in the heart of Manhattan" for those worshipers who, according to the Minutes of the Biennial Convention, "on account of the color which God put in their skin, were without a home."

On New Year's Day 1923, the Harlem Swedish Lutheran Church was purchased for $57,000 (the Minutes grumbled that it was "almost twice its pre-war value).  The convention minutes said, "This structure had originally been a clubhouse" but had been rebuilt "until it was a modern church with a beautiful auditorium on the first floor, a Sunday school room and kitchen on the second floor, janitor's quarters on the third floor, offices and rooms for the workers on the first and second floors, and a bowling alley in the basement."

"The name chosen, the Church of the Transfiguration, is the same as that of a famous New York church of another faith," admitted the minutes, but, it hoped, "in time [it] will become as well known in its way as the other 'little church around the corner.'"

Instead it was doggedly known for the racial make-up of its congregation.  On June 12, 1927, when The New York Times reported on the ordination of seven new Lutheran ministers, it singled out one.  "One of the class is a negro, Nicholas Morris Chisholm.  He will become assistant pastor of the Negro Lutheran Church of the Transfiguration."

For years the church would never be mentioned in articles about sermons, events, or celebrations with the identifying tag "negro" or "colored."  Perhaps the first example of the congregation being referred to simply as "the Lutheran Church of the Transfiguration" came in August 1930 when a change was made to the staff.  That was when James Soler arrived from Argentina to serve as pastor of the Spanish-speaking West Indian members. 

In 1932 a tiny wooden house survived next door.   photograph from the collection of the New York Public Library

Despite the make-up of his congregation, it was not race that was on the mind of Rev. Dr. Samuel Trexler on Sunday, March 10, 1935.  It was Adolph Hitler.

The Nazis had outlawed independent religious sects in Germany and ordered all churches to unify as the Protestant Reich Church.  Church leaders protested, forming the Confessional Synod, and demonstrated against the system.  A massive rally was planned for that same Sunday and Rev. Trexler announced his support from the pulpit.

"The protest of the churchmen of Germany planned for today must have a heartening effect upon Christians throughout the world," he told the congregation.  "Confronted by the State and the Word of God, they are like Luther at Worms when he said, 'Here I stand. I cannot do otherwise.  God help me.'"

The minister's prediction of a "heartening effect" was premature.  As could be expected in retrospect, the demonstration did not end well for the religious leaders.  On March 18, the Chicago Tribune reported, "About 700 Confessional synod pastors were arrested in Berlin and throughout Germany during the last 24 hours to prevent them from reading the synod's proclamation which sharply criticizes the Nazi church regime."

The newspaper predicted that many more arrests would follow.  "More than 5,000 pastors are identified with the Confessional movement" and added "Nazi official acted against the Catholics and Masons.  Secret police searched the Convent of the Good Shepherd...and arrested the mother superior and her assistant for reasons which were not announced."

If press coverage of Transfiguration Lutheran Church seemed racially-focused before, it was never more so than following the May 30, 1956 ordination of 28-year-old Rev. Robert Tage Neilssen.  The shocking news was reported throughout the state of New York.

The Associated Press reported Neilssen, "will become the first white pastor of a New York church with an all-Negro congregation."  The new minister was barraged with questions that would be highly inappropriate today.  Why was he interested in serving a Negro congregation?  How was he received by the members?

The novelty of a white man shepherding a black congregation resulted in reporters filing into the church for Neilssen's first day on the job.  On June 4, 1956, The New York Times reported, "At the Evangelical Lutheran Church of the Transfiguration...the Rev. Robert Tage Neilssen preached his first sermon as the white pastor of a Negro congregation."

Perhaps speaking more to the reporters at one point than to his flock, Neilssen said, "Religiously speaking, segregation is living a lie.  When I deny that any man is my brother, I am denying that God is the Father of us all."

Racial tensions across America resulted in riots in New York, Houston and Miami in the late 1970s and 1980.  Rev. James Gunther, now pastor of Transfiguration, noted with near resignation in December 1981, "things do not look as hopeful as they did five or 10 years ago."  He suggested that minority church leaders should "give the city some advice in dealing with black and Puerto Rican constituencies."

Transfiguration Lutheran Church continues its work after nearly 95 years in the remodeled clubhouse.  Sadly Nathan G. Kelsey's Flemish gable was removed rather than restored--no doubt because of financial reasons--and the brick and terra cotta facade has been painted.  The historic little structure nevertheless maintains a quaint presence among its brownstone neighbors.

photographs by the author

The Plantation Club - 80-82 West 126th Street

George W. Wallace was, perhaps, New York City's premier dance instructor in 1888.  Four decades earlier, in 1841, he had served as Master of Ceremonies at the inaugural ball of President William Henry Harrison; and in 1893 would do so again for President Grover Cleveland.

The sons and daughters of upscale Victorian households underwent rigorous training in deportment and social interaction--including dancing.  Wallace opened his first class in 1871 and operated a highly-successful dancing school at 20 West 59th Street, steps away from the mansions of Fifth Avenue.  But now he looked far to the north for another studio.

In 1879, elevated trains extended north into Harlem, turning the once rural hamlet into a vibrant suburb.  In 1888, George W. Wallace commissioned architect George Keister to design a dance school at 80 and 82 West 126th Street, with an adjoining house at No. 78.

Completed in 1889, the buildings were unmistakably separate, yet harmonious.  The school was a delightfully unbalanced blend of Romanesque Revival and an Italian villa.  The brick-faced facade featured arched openings at the first floor, and a grouping of windows on the second behind chunky stone columns which gave the effect of a loggia.  A tiled hip roof rose above a course of rough-cut stone.

The handsome tiled roof of the dance studio is sadly gone.

The Wallace house vied for attention.  While the two buildings had identical stone stoops and the treatment of the brick-and-stone basement levels was the same, the similarities ended there.  The parlor floor was highly understated, with crisp rectangular openings unexpected in Romanesque Revival.  Brick gave way to brawny blocks of stone below a surprising, stylistically-incongruous bracketed cornice.

Keister made up for the restrained parlor floor at the second.  An ecclesiastical-looking arch was composed of tightly-packed medieval columns, executed in bull nose brick, which morphed into the ribs of the arch.  As the arch recessed into the facade, the bowed bay burst forward in the opposite direction, creating a stunning display.  Here, as on the parlor floor, the transoms were filled with vibrant stained glass panels in the form of stylized peacock tails.  Two dormers with pyramidal caps thrust through the steep full-height mansard.

The transom panels, repeated in the parlor window, are remarkable.

George Wallace and his wife, Isabella, had two sons and a daughter.  The studio building doubled as a rentable entertainment venue.  The New-York Tribune noted, "The building contains a large hall, bowling alleys and studios."  When dance classes were not being held, Wallace leased the space, calling it "The Ellerslie," for dances, receptions and other gatherings.  It became a favorite for bicycle clubs, known as "wheelmen."

On December 4, 1893, for instance, The New York Times reported that the "Riverside Wheelmen will hold a reception on Thursday night at the Ellerslie...Dancing will begin at 9."  Two months later, the newly-formed New-York Wheelmen held their first reception here.  The New York Times noted, "This club is a young organization, but the reception was one of the most successful of any given by wheel clubs this season."  The newspaper explained the success saying, "President J. Hoff Ellison worked like a beaver to make every one have a good time."

Before long the Harlem Wheelmen were using the space for its monthly receptions.  "These affairs are among the pleasantest of the season in cycling circles," said The Times on February 6, 1896.

But the Ellerslie was not restricted to cycling clubs.  On the evening of June 2, 1898, the commencement exercises of the Barnard School for Girls were held here.  And that same year the Metropolitan Third Church of Christ, Scientist, began using the vast room on Sundays for its mission church.  It would continue leasing the space until 1904.

By 1898, the Wallace family had left the 126th Street house, leasing it to Stephen Wyckoff.  Despite his impressive surname--the Wyckoff family first appeared in the New York area in the 17th century--he seems to have been struggling financially.  His name appeared on the City's list of delinquent tax payers for 1898.

By 1905 Wallace had added modern dances to the tradition ballroom steps.  American Gymnasia, May 1905 (copyright expired)

The Wallace School remained next door and the Wallaces retained ownership of both structures, the titles being held in Isabella's name.  The Ellerslie was renamed The Ellsmere by 1906.  It was increasingly popular for large events, like the 10th anniversary celebration of school commissioner John A. Wilbur and his wife in November that year.  The bowling alleys made the venue a perfect choice in May 1909 when the Colonial Bowling Club held its "eighth annual shirtwaist dance" here.

In 1941, an auctioneer occupied the former hall.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

By 1914, George Wallace turned over operation of the dance school in the Ellsmere to Roderick C. Grant, who advertised "Private and Class Instruction in all the Modern Ballroom Dances."

As the years passed, Isabella leased the building to various managers and the Ellsmere continued to be a popular venue for weddings, receptions, dinners and dances--and at least in one case, a funeral.

Isabella died on April 12, 1927, and George died two years later, on May 28, 1929.  Before the year ended, the Ellsmere was gone, replaced by George and Connie Immerman's The Plantation Club, which opened in December.  The nightclub was intended to compete with the popular Cotton Club.

In 1932, while the Plantation Club still operated in Nos. 80-82, the former Wallace house still had its entrance door.  Between it and the United Lutheran Church is a tiny wooden house, a holdover from earlier Harlem days.  photograph from the collection of the New York Public Library

Highly offensive in its racist premise today, only white patrons were admitted; yet the entertainers and staff were all black.  Edward White, in his 2014 The Tastemaker, Carl Van Vechten and the Birth of Modern America, described the "farcical antebellum fairytale" interiors:

Log cabins and picket fences dotted the club's interior while African-American women in the role of dutiful, chuckling mammies tossed waffles and flapjacks on demand for hungry white customers.

It had cost the partners $80,000 to design and outfit the club--more than $1 million today and a huge outlay in the first months of the Great Depression.  The New York Times wrote,

In the centre of the big floor, approached by steps from the street, was a large dance floor of parquetry, surrounded by mirrors.  Over the floor was a blue sky effect, filled with stars and moons which glittered at night above the dancers' heads.  At one end was a 'Show Boat' tableau, and tiny representations of plantation cabins were set about the walls.

To compete with the Cotton Club, the Plantation Club needed headliner entertainment.  The owners lured Cab Calloway away from its competition.  Within weeks the Plantation was being described by The New York Times as, "one of the best known Harlem night clubs, and after-theatre rendezvous of white amusement seekers."  But the theft of one of his best draws was a move that greatly displeased Owney Madden, the mobster who ran the Cotton Club.

At around 11:00 on the morning of January 16, 1930, there were four employees working in the Plantation Club--the custodian John Sallitch, watchman Harry Jones, the bookkeeper Mildred Korn, and a painter, Morris Gillian.  When the doorbell rang, Jones opened it to find a man in a white coat accompanied by eight others, all "well-dressed."  Suspicious, Sallitch demanded, "What do you want here?" and the white-coated man answered, "We're Federal men, and we're looking for narcotics."

They were, in fact, thugs sent by Owney Madden.  The four employees were herded into the basement and the Plantation Club was wrecked.  Knives were used to slash the upholstered furniture, the lighting fixtures were smashed, and crowbars were used to rip up the dance floor.

"One man played destructive scales up and down the piano keys with a pickaxe," reported The New York Times.  "Mirrors were shattered and the 'Show Boat' tableau was demolished."  The gang broke into the dressing rooms and slashed 200 costumes to shreds.  Before they fled, dropping their tools to the floor, the goons had done an estimated $25,000 in damages.

The black-owned newspaper The Afro American was elated at the destruction of the grossly racist haunt.  "Harlem is laughing--long and loud.  It refuses to be segregated in its own home."

The Plantation Club owners were determined to bounce back.  The day following the attack they announced that workmen had already been hired "and started rushing repairs in the expectation of reopening tomorrow night."

Cab Calloway, incidentally, thought it best to return to the Cotton Club.

On February 21, 1940, all the furniture and fixtures in the building were sold at auction.  By the early 1970s, both of George W. Wallace's buildings were taken over by the Baptist House of Prayer of God in Christ.  The congregation, founded in 1909, remains here.

At some point, the tiled roof of the former dance studio was lost.  An industrial door barricades the house, and both buildings have received an unflattering coat of beige paint that hides the contrast of brick and stone.  Nevertheless, George Keister's innovative takes on Romanesque Revival shine through, and those exceptional stained glass panels survive.

photographs by the author
many thanks to Sandra Draves for suggesting this post

The 1902 Speyer School -- Nos. 512-516 W. 126th Street

James Joseph Speyer had worked in the Frankfort, Paris and London branches of his family's bank before returning to New York City in 1885 to join Speyer & Co.  Although he sat on the boards of several other banks and trust companies; his interests went far beyond banking. 

He was one of the founders of the Provident Loan Society following the Financial Panic of 1893.  The organization was established to aid the poor who were being taken advantage of by unscrupulous pawn dealers.  The same year that the Provident Loan Society was incorporated, in 1894, he was actively involved in the overthrow of Tammany Hall.

When Speyer married the young widow Ellin Lowery in 1897 he was already a trustee of the Teachers’ College of Columbia University.  At the time settlement houses were cropping up in impoverished neighborhoods, a result of the rampant social reform movement.  In these facilities struggling women learned skills like sewing and housekeeping; and children were provided with practical instruction as well as a clean, safe environment for play.

Speyer was not merely interested in the concept.  The New York Times noted in 1901 that “He is prominently connected with the University Settlement Society.”  On June 11 that year the newspaper announced that Ellin and James J. Speyer had donated $100,000 to Teachers’ College for “a building for an experimental school, equipped with the latest appliances.”  The significant donation, more than $2.5 million today, would be spent in the gritty neighborhood of Lawrence Street (later renamed 126^th Street) near Amsterdam Avenue.

The New-York Tribune reported on the same day, “The purpose of the givers is to provide a model public school.  The building will have five stories and a basement.  In the basement are to be a large gymnasium, baths, toilet rooms, janitors’ quarters and heating and ventilating plants.  The first story will contain an office for the principal of the school, a children’s reading room, a library a kindergarten room and classroom.  On the second and third floors are to be eight classrooms, each with desks for thirty children, and four recitation rooms.  The fourth floor will provide rooms for manual training, sewing and cooking, a dining room and two recitation rooms.”

The roof would provide outdoor space for a garden—not the expected roof garden of chairs and potted plants, though.  Instead it would be a true garden plot “in which children will be instructed in the care of plants and flowers.”

The fifth floor was reserved for staff “with a parlor, dining room, kitchen, six bedrooms and three private studies.”  Because the Speyer School would not be just for children, trained settlement house workers would live in the Speyer School.  That arrangement allowed the building to be open year round in the days and evenings for the use of the community.

Evening classes were provided for adults and the gymnasium and library were open to the public when not required for normal classes.  To assist the impoverished residents of the area to better themselves, “the facilities in manual training, domestic art and domestic science will be at the disposal of extra school classes when not otherwise in use,” reported the Tribune.  Because turn-of-the-century tenements had little or no bathing facilities, the baths were made available to the public as well when the children were not using them.

Boys and girls from the tenement districts had little hope for a bright future in 1901.  Social reformers aspired to change this.  “The Speyer School will be an experiment station,” said the New-York Tribune.  The newspaper explained that the school’s goal was to improve on the best that was offered by social settlements.

“A critical period in the life of most boys and girls is the years between fourteen and twenty.  It is the time when the support and guidance of the school are replaced by the necessity of earning a livelihood.”  The school, therefore, would focus on the occupations each child was interested in and provide addition studies on those fields.

On August 9, 1901, a month after the title to the plot of land at 94 Lawrence Street was obtained, architect Edgar A. Josselyn filed plans for the Speyer School.  The estimated cost of the structure was put at $70,000.

Josselyn would produce a five-story German Renaissance structure of buff brick and terra cotta.  Minimal ornamentation on the lower floors would be compensated for by a two-story stepped gable with swirling console brackets and exuberant carving.  A thin opening above the paired attic windows gave the impression of an additional floor.

Construction took over a year and the dedication exercises were held on April 23, 1903.  In his speech, Dean Russell stressed that the school was intended “to elevate the community in which it was planted.”  James Speyer spoke as well, diminishing his role in the process.  According to Manual Training Magazine, “The building, he said, is but a small thing.  It is the work of the teacher which tells.  Citizens must be intelligent as well as law-abiding.  In peace and in war, and in the solution of industrial questions, American schools will show their influence.”

The school shortly after completion -- http://www.tc.columbia.edu/news.htm?articleID=7495&pub=7&issue=256

The school was an immediate success, prompting the New-York Tribune to remark the following day “Already the building is taxed to its utmost capacity, and is the home of numerous boys’ and girls’ clubs.”

The roof was soon used for far more than merely the instructional flower and vegetable garden.  On May 30, 1906 the New-York Tribune reported “On the roof of the school is the playground, in the corner of which a model bedroom, with plenty of light and air, has been built by the children in the fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth grades.”

To help pay for additional equipment the Speyer School staged a sale of the students’ manual work.  The students themselves were responsible for the operation of the sales.  In December 1907, for instance, the 8^th grade was in charge of finance and the 7^th grade was responsible for “management of sale.”  There were seven special committees like the “examining committee” (“if carelessly made or unsuitably constructed, the examiners will reject articles and return them to the grade which was responsible.").  The “committee on arrangements” found suitable rooms, ensured they were properly cleaned and heated and provided suitable furniture, cash boxes, etc.  Although girls in the sixth through eighth grades supplied some baked goods, there was a special committee on “Candy and Cake.”  Its job was to “endeavor to secure the co-operation of adult friends of Speyer School, who may be willing to make candies for our sale.”

The School Journal noted that the year before the proceeds from that sale went for gymnastic apparatus for the roof playground.  This year the fifth graders had made address booklets for sale.  Frances Van Camp described them.  “First we covered the outside with Japanese paper.  Then cut twenty-seven papers for the inside and marked them.  We printed addresses inside and tied a silk cord with a pencil on the end.”

The sixth grade made needle-books, lamp shapes, baskets and mounted pictures; the seventh and eighth grades fashioned sofa cushions, clipping cases, teapot stands, and decorated fans.

When the sale closed the children had netted $82.92 to be spend on school equipment.  But far more importantly they had learned practical lessons in organization, retail practices, marketing and other business principals.

The focus of the school began to change in 1915.  On February1 that year the New-York Tribune noted “A class for exceptional children will be opened at the Speyer School, a part of Teachers College, February 8.  The judgment of fond parents, however, will not be the sole qualification.  Dr. Louis E. Bisch, a specialist in the treatment of atypical children, and Dr. Naomi Norsworthy, associate professor of educational psychology, will examine and classify the children.”

By “exceptional” and “atypical” the school did not necessarily mean gifted.  Included were those “suffering all the disadvantages of the child mentally below normal,” as described by The Sun eight months later.  Dr. Bisch had implemented an experimental program to study and teach the learning challenged.  His students came not from the underprivileged neighborhood, but from the sitting rooms of Manhattan’s elite.

“In appearance most of the children are normal,” said The Sun on October 24.  “All of them are sons and daughters of well to do parents.  Some of them go to school in automobiles.  All of them have nurses or other attendants to look after them on their trips between home and classes.”  But, said the newspaper, “Each child is a special study in feeblemindedness.”

At the time slow learning and physically disabled children were essentially overlooked by the educational system.  The Speyer School was ground-breaking in this regard.

“All the children in the Speyer School are below normal.  One of them can read, one can write a little.  The senses of one little girl are acute, and she recognizes sounds or colors readily, though letters or numbers are too abstract for her grasp.  Another little girl easily catches the words of a song, but during singing becomes confused and forgets them.”

Not “all the children” in the school were challenged, as The Sun said.  The school looked to the other end of the intelligence spectrum as well.  In February 1916, 200 boys who had completed the 6^th grade were selected for another experimental program.  Based on their keen learning abilities, they were put into a “rapid advance” program.  “They are divided into groups, and shifted about on the basis of individual progress,” reported The Evening World on February 2.  “The boys with whom the experiment succeeds will be able, at the end of two years, to enter the second year of the city high schools, thus gaining one school year.”

At the same time the top floor had been converted for use as the Friendly Home for Girls.  The “home” trained 36 orphaned girls “in all branches of domestic science,” explained The New York Times on January 7, 1917.  The newspaper said that The Friendly Home “marks a departure in the treatment of orphans.”

Supervised by Mrs. Julius J. Frank, Chairman of the Ladies’ Serving Society of the orphan institution, the Home prepared young girls to obtain jobs.  “According to Mrs. Frank many girls already have been placed in households—not as servants, but as ‘mothers’ assistants.’”

As changes in theories of education continued, the Speyer School adapted.  In 1935 a new “experimental school” was established as a joint venture of Teachers College and the Board of Education.  On September 8, 1935 The New York Times described it as an “effort to discover and develop new methods for dealing with both the dull-normal and the bright pupil.”

The school was rechristened PO 500 and the program’s formal title was “The Public School Experiment with Mental Deviates.”  The “deviates” were selected by means of intelligence tests.  “Slow” learners were defined as children with IQ’s of 75 to 90; “rapid” learners had IQ’s of 130 to 200.

From its inception the experiment was to last only until each student’s thirteenth birthday or until February 1941.  After that, the school building was shuttered and, for the first time in four decades, sat unused.  On April 11, 1942 The New York Times reported that among the buildings a group looked at as a possible addition to the City College School of Business was “the abandoned Speyer School at Amsterdam Avenue and 126^th Street.”

Finally in May 1946 Columbia University announced that “Speyer School will be altered to allow quarters for 125 single students.”  It was part of the emergency housing project approved by Governor Dewey to provide housing for returning veterans attending college.  But later that year, in October, Teachers College donated the building to the two-year old Manhattanville Neighborhood Center.

A year and a half renovation costing $160,000 was completed in March 1948.  A dedication ceremony on March 21 drew 250 attendees.  The Rev. Dr. Harry Emerson Fosdick, in his comments, emphasized that the “center wants to go beyond the remedial needs of the neighborhood.”

From 1964 through 1977 the building was owned by the Episcopal Diocese of New York.  During the turbulent civil rights movement era it was the scene of several programs focused on civil rights.  Here one of the first Head Start programs was based and a week before his assassination Dr. Martin Luther King visited the building.

Finances were a problem and in 1977 the Diocese gave the building to the Paul Robeson Community Center; but that group, too, was unable to support it financially.

The former Speyer School, always a center of social outreach and neighborhood improvement, would continue its changing role in 1991.  Across the street sat St. Mary’s EpiscopalChurch which, throughout the 20^th century, had been active in social and community causes.  By now the Speyer School building had been abandoned and neglected for years and St. Mary’s purchased it in a joint venture with the Episcopal Mission Society.

After renovations, it opened as the St. Mary’s Center for persons with HIV/AIDS.  Today the facility continues to house and provide its clients with medical, social and psychosocial support. 

More than a century after its construction, the surprising German Renaissance structure continues its intended purpose of providing support and outreach to the Harlem community; just as James and Ellin Speyer intended.

photographs taken by the author

The 1908 St. Mary's Episcopal Church -- 521 West 126th Street

The Commissioners’ Plan of Manhattan’s that resulted in streets and avenues was published in 1811.  Within the next two decades the country estates closest to the city would be criss-crossed with thoroughfares and, in most cases, their elegant villas demolished.  But farther north the rural summer estates of the city’s wealthiest citizens would survive significantly longer.

The Bloomingdale Road, later renamed Broadway, was the major artery for travelers.  Dotted along it, roadhouses provided travelers rest and refreshment; while lanes and unpaved roads branched off toward the summer estates.  Around the convergence of the Bloomingdale Road and Manhattan Street (approximately 125^th Street today), a tiny village was laid out in 1806 by city surveyor Adolphus Loss. 

Called Manhattanville, it soon had a school and “house of entertainment," a market and a wharf.  The rural village attracted tenant farmers and blue collar workers.  A stage and a boat provided transportation for the eight mile trip to New York and before long a ferry to New Jersey was established.

By 1823 there were about 15 homes in the village for its mostly poor residents.  Although small, the population, augmented by the wealthy summertime residents, was large enough to warrant a house of worship.  On Thanksgiving Day, December 18, 1823 Rev. William Richmond, the rector of St. Michael’s Church in the village of Bloomingdale held a worship service in the school house.  He took the opportunity to invite residents to organize a proper church.

Although nearly all of the churches established in Manhattan's the rural north at the time were chapels of convenience—branches of established churches downtown—Richmond proposed an independent church and parish.  Wealthy merchant Jacob Schieffelin donated a plot of land 60 by 100 feet on Lawrence Street for the new St. Mary’s Protestant Episcopal Church.  The cornerstone was laid on June 15, 1824 and the little wooden structure was dedicated on October 23, 1826.

Included in the original membership rolls were prestigious names like Schieffelin, Lorrillard, Jay, de Peyster, Stuyvesant, and Lawrence.  Another was Elizabeth Hamilton, the widow of Alexander Hamilton, and her two sons.  The Hamilton mansion, The Grange, sat nearby.  Other Manhattanville residents had a harder time gaining membership.  The Minutes of the Vestry dated December 27, 1823 limited membership to “white male persons of full age, who shall for one year last, preceding the election, have worshipped according to the rites of the Protestant Episcopal Church and shall have contributed the sum of not less than fifty cents.”

Five years after its doors were opened St. Mary’s Church eliminated pew rent.  What sounds like a forward-thinking and generous move was probably simply pragmatic.  Although there were wealthy members; the majority of parishioners were poor and the pew rents were meager.  Trustees finally decided to simply forgo the rents altogether.

As the city crept northward the villages in what would eventually be clumped together as Harlem thrived.  St. Mary’s Church focused on the betterment of the Manhattanville residents.  Trustees established the Free School of St. Mary’s Church which was “open equally to all denominations;” and in 1864 opened “The Sheltering Arms.”  The New York Times described The Sheltering Arms as “a charitable institution…to give a home to children, not orphans, but who from one reason or another have been deprived of the comforts of a home.” 

By the beginning of the 20^th century Manhattanville was fully developed.  The little wooden church on Lawrence Street was no longer adequate for the growing congregation.  Although rector, the Rev. Hiram R. Hulse, pushed for a new building in the late 1890s, the project was delayed by a lack of funds. 

Then on February 2, 1908 the New-York Tribune announced that the old building would be razed and a new church erected on the site.  The newspaper said it “will be of brick, with trimmings of limestone, of Gothic design, with a large decorative tracery window and a peaked roof, with an ornamental gablet.” 

One month later, on March 8, The New York Times remarked “To-day marks the passing of St. Mary’s Episcopal Church, in Lawrence Street, near 129^th Street, east of Broadway, which will, however live again in a handsome new brick and stone edifice to be erected on the old site.”

The Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide was a bit wistful to see the venerable structure go.  Below the headline “Another Landmark to Disappear,” it reported on March 21, 1908 “The awarding of the contract to the Amsterdam Building Co, 43 West 27^th st., to erect the new edifice in Lawrence st…means the disappearance of an old landmark in Harlem.  The present frame structure was built in 1823 and is one of the oldest in the city.”

The periodical credited the design to “Architects Carrere & Hastings” and predicted it would be “an attractive structure of stone and brick.”  The writer failed to name firm member Theodore E. Blake who was mainly responsible for the design.

The charming structure was completed before the end of the year.  Blake and his associates had produced a picturesque country church for what was now a bustling community.  The New-York Tribune reflected on the change in the neighborhood saying “The new St. Mary’s replaced a wooden structure constructed in 1828, when Manhattanville was a scattered village of country homes and villas on Bloomingdale Road, far to the north of the city of New York.  To-day the city has not only grown up to it, but miles beyond.”

Built of red brick with stone detailing, its English Gothic design bore some striking similarities to Renwick & Sands’ 1868 Church of the Holy Sepulcher on East 74^th Street.  Blake’s structure, however, was dominated by the enormous Gothic arched window with its graceful tracery.  Atop the gable sat a quaint open bell tower crowned by a Celtic cross.  The bell from the original St. Mary’s hung in the tower.  The side porch of the church was carefully erected over the burial vault of the Jacob Schieffelin family.

Inside the architects carried out the rural ambiance with exposed beams and fretwork and unplastered brick walls.  And yet the proportions of the space resulted in a melding of the charm with grandeur.  The $35,000 cost would translate to about $856,000 today.

Blake forwent frescoes and lavish decoration for quiet charm.  photograph taken around 1910 by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York, http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWPC5GPF&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

The consecration of the new St. Mary’s was held on New Year’s Day 1909.  A long list of clergymen assisted in the service which was celebrated by Bishop David H. Greer.  The New-York Tribune reported that the congregation “crowded the structure.”

St. Mary’s Protestant Episcopal Church drew its choir partly from The Sheltering Arms.  In 1912 the voices of twelve men and eight women were augmented by those of a dozen boys from that organization.  Choirmaster T. B. Arden was secure in his choir’s supply of young voices—it was the grown-ups that were making him nervous.  They were rampantly pairing off and getting married, threatening the continued existence of his group.

On September 16, 1912 The Sun reported that Arden “is afraid that if Cupid doesn’t leave his choir alone his church will be without music…He lost two men and two young women through marriages last week, and it is known that very soon three more engagements will be announced.”

The newspaper told readers that choir members Helen Belle and Frank Roe had been married in the church on the past Monday; and two days later soproano Mabel Quigley gave a party at her home to the choir members.  “Under the ice cream plates were found cards announcing that she had been married to William C. Blockwood.”  It was almost too much for the choirmaster to handle.

“The impending engagements, Mr. Arden thinks, will break up the choir if those concerned leave it when they marry.”

 

The 1908 side windows hint at the Art Nouveau movement.

Six years after Prohibition was enacted, a strong push for repeal swept the nation.  Many of those who believed that the outlawing of alcohol would reduce taxes and better the quality of life now recognized that there was a downside.  Organized crime was rampant; hundreds of millions of federal tax revenue was lost; while millions were being spent on Prohibition enforcement.

Charles Breck Ackley, pastor of St. Mary’s, however, was unmoved.  On November 1, 1926 he stood before his congregation and addressed the growing pressure for repeal.  He argued that six years was not long enough for Prohibition to prove itself.

“A great moral and ethical question is before the American people, and especially the people of this State.  My contention is not that prohibition has as yet been proved to be the final answer, but we are in the midst of a great experiment in human betterment.  We have not had time to really try it out, even if we had whole-hearted enforcement and cooperation by our citizens.  We should be good sportsmen enough to really try the experiment, to carry it through.”

 

The once-rural neighborhood was much changed by 1932.  Behind the garden sits the 1851 parish house, another reminder of gentler times.  photograph from the collection of the New York Public Library

Ackley was not the first and certainly not the last rector of St. Mary’s unafraid to voice his opinion.  One of the most outspoken would be the Rev. Robert W. Castle, Jr. who took the pulpit in 1987.  By now Lawrence Street had become West 126^th Street and the congregation was largely black and Hispanic.

Father Castle’s ministry was as much about social outreach as spiritual preaching.  He had marched alongside Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and picketed businesses that refused to hire minorities.  Among his first actions as rector was to bring in a Spanish-speaking priest so neighbors could hear mass in their language.  When the nearby Cathedral of St. John the Divine held a service honoring General Colin L. Powell and other Operation Desert Storm participants, Castle was out front with the protesters.

The fiery and determined actions of the priest resulted in the 1992 documentary film “Cousin Bobby,” in which Castle played himself.  His convincing performance led to other roles, including the father of Tom Hanks’ character, Andrew Beckett, dying from AIDS in the 1993 film “Philadelphia.”

 

A 2014 occasion prompted streamers in the timbered sanctuary.

Father Robert Castle retired in 2000 but his legacy continues on West 126^th Street.  Under his direction the St. Mary’s Episcopal Center was established across the street from the church; a residence and day treatment center for people living with HIV/AIDS.  The church continues to reach out to the homeless and needy and runs a “supermarket style” Food Pantry and a mobile soup kitchen.

Theodore Blake’s 1908 brick and stone jewel is virtually unchanged and meticulously maintained.

non-credited photographs taken by the author