The 1885 Samuel Colcord House - 138 West 82nd Street

 

photo by the author

The son of builder Ralph Townsend, Ralph Samuel Townsend was born in New York in 1854.  By the time he was in his late 20's, he was listed in city directories as an architect.  In 1884, he was hired by real estate developer George Miller to design a row of homes along the south side of West 82nd Street, between Ninth and Tenth Avenues.  (The avenues would be renamed Columbus and Amsterdam, respectively, six years later.)  Completed in 1885, the identical, four-story-and-basement residences were faced in brownstone. 

Townsend designed them in the popular neo-Grec style, their upper windows fully framed in stone architraves with ample sill aprons and prominent molded cornices on carved brackets.  Townsend softened the style's angular personality with Renaissance Revival-style panels below the parlor windows, an exuberantly foliate-carved panel above the entrance, and a carved stylized pot of flowers on either side of the doorway.  The cast iron, balustraded stoop railings terminated in beefy newels.

Miller sold 138 West 82nd Street to former clergyman Samuel Colcord.  Around 1883, Colcord "gave up the ministry and made a fortune in west side real estate," as explained by The New York Times in 1898.  The newspaper said he "was called 'Lucky Sam' Colcord."

photo via sothebys.realty

His stepping down from the pulpit did not squelch Colcord's outspoken views.  He wrote theological books like the 1897 The Veracity of the Hexateuch, voiced his opinions of government in letters to editors of newspapers, and, at least once, in December 1898, rented Chickering Hall to argue the theories of Robert G. Ingersoll, known as "the Great Agnostic."

Colcord's residency here was relatively short.  By the time of his Chickering Hall lecture, he had moved on for a decade.  On November 16, 1888, he advertised in The New-York Times:

A bargain--First-class new dwelling, 138 West 82d-st.; four-story, high-stoop, 17 x 56 feet and extension; cabinet finish; artistic decorations; $28,000.  Apply on premises.  Samuel Colcord, owner.

(Colcord's listed price would translate to about $953,000 in 2025.)

The house changed hands several times before Dr. Ralph Tousey moved in around 1903, after his marriage to Elena V. Martinze, the daughter of a Cuban Government official.  Born on October 21, 1873, Tousey was a gynecologist.  He graduated from the College of Physicians and Surgeons in 1898.  

photograph by the author

Unfortunately, his marriage would not last. In 1904, Elena traveled to South Dakota where she obtained a divorce "on the ground of desertion," according to The New York Sun.  Shortly afterward, she married Harry W. Hazelton.

Five years later, in July 1909, Tousey sued Elena for divorce in Supreme Court, "alleging that the Dakota decree was not binding in this State," explained The Sun.  The court ruled against him, deciding that the 1904 divorce was valid.  Tousey's sudden interest in confirming that his divorce was legal was soon made clear.

On September 8, 1909, The Sun titled an article, "Ralph Tousey Weds Again," and reported that the previous evening he had married Clara S. Briner.  The article mentioned that Tousey was "a grandson of the late Sinclair Tousey, founder of the American News Company."

Like many families at the time, the Touseys rented rooms.  Their ad in The New York Times on October 7, 1910 read, "82d, 138 West--Exceptionally well furnished 2 rooms and bath suite in exclusive private family; breakfast if desired."  The ad was answered by Theodore Martin, self-described as "the distinguished Scottish tenor."  Martin sang at the St. Andrew's Banquet the next month.  The New York Sun deemed his singing as "an exquisite bit of work," adding that he "received a Caruso ovation at the end of this glorious song."

The Touseys' house had been the scene of Keystone Kops-like chaos a month earlier.  Two doors away, at 134 West 82nd Street, was the home of W. Dana Bigelow and his wife, Lyda.  In July 1910, Lyda's sister, Mrs. George Bloodworth arrived with her four-year-old son, W. Dana Bloodsworth.  She was fleeing from her husband in Maryland.  Before her sister died in September that year, Lyda promised that she would rear the boy and "never surrender" him to his father.

On October 17, 1910, a cab pulled up to the Bigelows' house and George Bloodworth and three men got out.  Bloodworth headed up the stoop while the others waited on the sidewalk.  The maid told Bloodworth that Lyda had taken the boy for a walk, and asked him to wait in the parlor.  While he sat there, Lyda quietly instructed the maid to sneak the boy out of the basement door and to the Tousey house.

Bloodworth's confederates, of course, saw the ruse and alerted him.  "Mrs. Bigelow then ran through a rear door and by using a ladder clambered over two fences separating her home from the house where the boy had been taken," reported the New York Herald.  Bloodworth and his three friends burst into the Tousey house just in time to see Lyda "carry the youngster through the rear door," according to the article, which said, "The woman ascended the ladder and was climbing the fence when her pursuers rushed through the door."

Realizing she did not have time to get back to her own house, Lyda took the boy into the basement of No. 136, then, "raced upstairs and over the roofs to her own home."  With her pursuers close behind, "Mrs. Bigelow locked the roof door of her home and she then began piling furniture against the outer doors of her residence.  This done and the boy secreted, she telephoned to her husband."  When police arrived, summoned by the worried Touseys, Bloodworth and his accomplices vanished.

By 1912 the Touseys had left West 82nd Street.  (Their marriage, incidentally, would end in annulment in 1924 when, after alleging that Clara was secretly insane at the time of their marriage, Ralph confined her in the Straighthill Sanitarium,  as insane.)  The house became home to the John B. Dauchy family.

In 1941 the muscular cast iron stoop railings and newels were intact.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Born in 1859, he married Phebe Denison Chesebrough on September 27, 1893.  Their son, Bradley Lasher, was born two years later.  John B. Dauchy was a dealer in paints, shellack, linseed oil and turpentine.  Among his largest clients was the City's Department of Parks.

By 1925, Bradley was working as a clerk with the American Woolen Company.  He and his parents remained at 138 West 82nd Street for one more year, after which it was home to the Max Bauman family.  

The residence was operated as a rooming house by mid-century.  Musician George A. Stubbs lived here in the early 1960s, and in the 1970s, photographer Guy Sussman occupied 138 West 82nd Street, holding photographic lessons in the house.

A renovation completed in 1981 resulted in one apartment per floor.  It was most likely at this time that the 1884 stoop ironwork was replaced with anemic, modern railings.  Astoundingly, Ralph S. Townsend’s interior detailing—carpenter’s lace, pocket doors, shutters and such—were carefully removed and stored in the basement.  

Seen here in 2009, the stoop railings and newels had been removed.

That foresight would be highly appreciated when a years-long renovation-restoration began in 2004.  The new owners resurrected the stored elements, had them professionally restored and re-installed.  

The new owners refabricated the lost railings and installed period appropriate newels.  photograph by the author

Included in the all-encompassing restoration was the refabrication of the stoop railings, based on surviving examples on the row, and a period appropriate pair of newels.  The project returned 138 West 82^nd Street to a single family residence.

photographs by the author

The Saxony and DeWitt Court Apts. -- 250-254 West 82nd Street

In 1911, Warren Cady Crane founded Ye Olde Settlers’ Association of the West Side in a panicked attempt to halt the demolition of brick and brownstone residences—most only 30 years old—to clear the way for lavish apartment buildings.  Crane was about a decade too late.

More than anyplace else in the city, residents of the Upper West Side had heartily embraced apartment house living.  Buildings that held apartments the size of private homes did away with the expense and bother of large domestic staffs.

It was a movement that developer Albert Saxe (who also spelled his name “Sachs”) recognized early on.  On May 20, 1899, the Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide announced that he had commissioned the architectural firm of Stein, Cohen & Roth to design a seven-story “brick and stone semi-fireproof flat.”  The estimated cost of was $200,000—in the neighborhood of $7.5 million in 2025.

The 28-year-old Emery Roth was a fledgling partner in the firm.  He had worked in the office of Richard Morris Hunt until that architect’s death in 1895.  He moved on to the office of Ogden Codman, Jr. who designed and decorated the homes of Manhattan’s and Newport’s socially elite.  Now, working with Theodore G. Stein and E. Yancey Cohen, he took on Saxe’s project.  While plans were filed under the firm’s name, architectural historians agree that The Saxony would be the first apartment building designed by Roth.

The Saxony, situated on the southwest corner of Broadway and West 82^nd Street, was completed in 1900.  Emery Roth had produced a Beaux Arts confection of red brick and white limestone meant to reflect the social and financial status of its residents.  The two-story rusticated stone base housed retail stores on the Broadway side.  The residential entrance, flanked by tall lampposts and sheltered by a glass-and-iron canopy, was located on the less public 82^nd Street.

The Saxony offered the conveniences of a private home, as well as staff employed by the management—like the “liveried hall service night and day.”  Each apartment consisted of “nine rooms, two bath rooms, butler’s pantries and private halls” according to a 1901 advertisement.  It boasted, “The parlors are unusually attractive, being finished in white and gold; they have paneled walls, with high paneled base, and ceilings enriched with ornamental relief work, motif being Louis XVI.”

Depending on the floor, tenants would pay an annual rent of either $1,500 or $2,000.  The latter would translate to a significant $6,000 per month in 2025.

The paint was barely dry before Albert Saxe sold The Saxony.  Morris K. Jessup owned the Forres, a similar building abutting The Saxony to the south.  He negotiated Saxe’s $375,000 asking price down to $355,000, netting Saxe a handsome profit nonetheless.  Saxe started on another building “similar to the Saxony apartment house,” according to the New-York Tribune, on the southwest corner of Broadway and 77^th Street.

Among the first tenants of The Saxony was William R. Corwine, a visible member of the Merchants’ Association of New-York.  Following a devastating hurricane in 1899 in Puerto Rico, he was appointed Secretary of the Central Porto Rican Relief Committee by the Secretary of War, Russell A. Alger.

Corwine was, as well, an ardent William McKinley supporter; partly based on his merchant’s point of view.  On June 20, 1900 he mailed off a letter to the editor of the New-York Tribune which said, in part, “I have no doubt that if we will all pull together with a good, long, strong pull, Mr. McKinley can be re-elected by a majority that will show to the world that this Nation is alive to the changed conditions, and that we intend to make every possible effort to expand the sale of our manufactured products in every portion of the globe.”

In 1902, William R. Corwine would find himself testifying to the Congressional Committee on Ways and Means during its hearings on Reciprocity with Cuba.

When designer Gustav F. Lang moved into The Saxony in 1902, construction was well underway on another lavish apartment building next door at No. 254—the DeWitt Court.   Designed by Neville & Bagge, it was the project of developer Jesse C. Bennett.  It was the beginning of what would be an unpredictable connection between the two unrelated buildings.

In the meantime, Gustav F. Lang submitted two of his works to the Architectural League of New York’s annual exhibition that year—a “design of electric light” and a “design for plate.”   Other residents at the time were Samuel Gottlieb and his wife, Julia.  Julia’s widowed mother, Yvette Rothschild, had moved in with them.  The 81-year-old died here in June 1902.

Peter Gardner was described by The Financial Red Book of America simply as a “capitalist.”  The socially visible Chester Ingersoll Richards and his wife had moved into The Saxony from Brooklyn Heights by 1905.  That year, on December 17, she announced in the society pages that she was “at home” on “second Fridays until May.”

An iron gate separates The Saxony and its new neighbor DeWitt Court.  photo by Wurtz Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York  http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult&VBID=24UAYWFVPC4S&SMLS=1&RW=1536&RH=770

The DeWitt Court was completed in 1903 and offered apartments which, according to an August 9 advertisement, were “like a private residence.”  Each apartment—there was just one per floor—featured nine rooms and three baths.  The parlors were 25-feet long by 15.6-feet wide and the kitchens were an amazing 23 by 10 feet.

Even before the DeWitt Court was completed, its owner, Jesse C. Bennett, was managing The Saxony.  Before long the two buildings would share advertising space.

DeWitt Court sat behind The Saxony on the 82nd Street side.

Like its next door neighbor, the Dewitt Court attracted wealthy businessmen.  One of these was Mark Rapalsky, president and Director of the Constant Battery Co., and a director of the Richard Realty Co., the Willet Realty Co., the Huron Realty Co., and the Imperial Realty Co.

Following his wife’s tragic suicide on May 10, 1905, Benjamin Strong, Jr. moved into the DeWitt Court.  The wealthy banker was secretary of the Bankers’ Trust Company of New York, director of the Bank of Montclair (New Jersey), director of the North Star Mines Co., and a director of the Rochester and Sodus Bay Railroad Co.

Sharing Strong's apartment was his son, Archibald McIntyre Strong, who graduated from Princeton in 1906.   By 1918, Benjamin Strong would rise to position of head of the Federal Reserve Bank.

Perhaps no one in either building entertained as lavishly as did Mrs. Chester Ingersoll Richards.  Her entertainments were regularly followed in the society pages.  The Richards apartment was often the scene of the meetings of the Wednesday Morning Bridge and Luncheon Club.  At these events society women played bridge for expensive prizes—silver picture frames, linen handkerchiefs or a “fancy bonbon box,” for instance.

On October 1, 1910, Harriett Virginia Fischer was married to T. Arthur Nosworthy, Jr. in All Angels’ Church.  Her father, Bernardo F. Fischer was one of the brothers who headed the Fischer Piano Company.  Following the ceremony the reception was held in the Fischers’ apartment in The Saxony.  Bernardo Franklin Fischer would die in the apartment three years later on September 13, 1913.

The DeWitt Court saw several esteemed doctors take apartments.  Drs. George Wyeth and Arthur Bookman were both here by 1911.  Their papers were regularly published in medical journals and Bookman would remain in the building for decades.  A 1914 advertisement in Country Life magazine noted that the ground floor apartments were “especially desirable for use of physician[s].”

At the end of January 1914, Robert B. Dula purchased both buildings.  He sold them two weeks later as a package.  The informal connection of the two structures was now a marriage, one for which divorce was not in the cards.

As the United States was pulled into World War I, several of the younger men living in the buildings left to serve their country.  Among them were Lloyd Adolph Wimpfheimer, Mortimore Steinhardt, and Gustav Lang (who in 1902 had exhibited his designs to the Architectural League).   Not all of them would return. 

On August 20, 1918, 27-year-old Lt. Mortimore Steinhardt’s parents, who lived in the DeWitt Court, were notified that he had been gassed on May 20 and he was “severely wounded.”  Less than three months later, word was received that Corporal Gustav F. Lang had died of wounds received in France.

Along with doctors, bankers and businessmen, the West Side buildings had their share of residents from the arts.  Maia Bang lived in The Saxony with her husband C. E. Hohn.  The internationally-known violinist wrote the Maia Bang Violin Method, an instructional book still in use today.  In 1919, she advertised that she “will accept a limited number of pupils” in her studio here.

And another long-term resident of The Saxony was former actress Mrs. Grace Hall Chase Kramer.  She had performed with the Booth and Barrett Theatrical Company and, now retired, maintained her memberships in the Episcopal Actors Guild and the Catholic Actors Guild.  She lived here with her husband Edwin G. Kramer until her death on March 29, 1932.

Leo S. Jacoby was an insurance salesman who lived in The Saxony for decades.  Among his clients were entertainers like Al Jolson, Richard Bennett and Harry Richmond.  

A rather eyebrow-raising death occurred in The Saxony on May 6, 1921.  William Becker, an electrical engineer, and his wife had divorced.  Taking her maiden name, Katherine Miller now had an apartment here.   That night police were called to her apartment where they found Becker dead, his wrist slashed.

According to Katherine, her ex-husband had showed up around 3:00 that afternoon.  Believing him to be drunk, she said, she “did not interfere when he walked into a bedroom and shut the door.”  Four hours later, she knocked on the door and, getting no response, entered.  According to the New-York Tribune, “Entering the room she found that a chandelier had been broken and that her former husband’s right wrist had been cut by the shattered glass.”  Despite the questionable circumstances, the Medical Examiner pronounced death due to accidental causes.

By the time Leo S. Jacoby died at the age of 92 in 1965, the buildings had been sold and resold as a package several times.  They had both seen change from their former glory days, as well.  In 1945, Department of Buildings records showed that the massive apartments in The Saxony had been divided into 21 and 23 “single room occupancy” rooms per floor. 

In 1951, a Dewitt Court tenant, 50-year-old Ramon Rosario was convicted of international drug trafficking, along with what The New York Times called, “thirteen henchmen.”  Members of the Federal Narcotics Bureau said, “the smashed ring was the largest encountered in a decade.”  Rosario received 15 years in prison and an $11,000 fine, reported to be “the stiffest narcotics sentence ever imposed in Federal Court here,” according to The New York Times.

But happier days were to come.  In 1969, The Saxony was converted to, for the most part, one and two co-op apartments per floor.   Nevertheless, purchasers were sometimes faced with significant renovations.  When architects Jerry and Mary Overly Davis purchased their seven-room coop in The Saxony in 1995, they told Tracie Rozhon from The New York Times, “They were only showing the apartment to architects and contractors—people who could deal with its condition.”

The Saxony is still emblazoned above the now-sealed 82nd Street entrance.

Today, following a subsequent 2006 renovation that resulted in three apartments per floor in both buildings, The Saxony and the DeWitt Court have recaptured their original grandeur.  After having been treated as a unit by real estate men for a century, the two buildings now are physically connected by a common entrance in the former service alley.  The entrance to No. 250 has been sealed off, but SAXONY is still emblazoned in its ornately carved cartouche dripping with swags and garlands.

photographs by the author

The 1886 Horace Clark House - 128 West 82nd Street

 

In 1885 real estate developer Virgilio Del Genovese hired Emanuel Gandolfo to design five four-story rowhouses on the south side of West 82nd Street, between Columbus and Amsterdam Avenues.  Completed the following year, the architect's Queen Anne style houses exhibited elements of the Jacobean Revival style, as well.  The western-most of the row, 128 West 82nd Street, was faced in red brick above its brownstone-clad basement and parlor levels.  The transoms of its grouped parlor windows most likely originally held stained glass.  Brownstone quoins fully framed the upper floor openings, and the fourth floor took the form of a charming slate-shingled mansard with gable.

The picturesque gable includes multi-paned windows and a carving of a seemingly disapproving female face.

The 20-foot-wide residence became home to Horace Clark and his wife.  A graduate of Harvard University, he was steward of the new Murray Hill Hotel.  He brought a solid resume to the position, having served as steward in the Hoffman House, French's Hotel, and "a number of country hostelries," as mentioned by the New-York Tribune.

In 1894 Louis de Gumones purchased 128 West 82nd Street as an investment.  He initially leased it to Dr. Charles D. Wilhelmy.  

The physician's patients were no doubt shocked when they read their newspapers on August 10, 1895 and discovered Dr. Wilhelmy was behind bars.  The Evening Telegram reported, "Two respectable looking prisoners under the names of Dr. Arthur Van Ness of No. 146 West Seventy-first street, and Dr. Charles D. Wilhelmy, of No. 128 West Eighty-second street" had been arraigned on charges of swindling book publishers Bryan, Taylor & Co.  Detectives explained that the physicians were part of "an organized band of swindlers, who got books on installment from the publishers and afterward sold them at auction."  The arraignment was only the beginning of Dr. Wilhelmy's legal problems.  The Evening Telegram said there were four other victimized publishers.

Another physician, James Hawley Burtenshaw, next leased the house.  He was a member of the faculty of the New York Polyclinic and was managing editor of its monthly magazine of the same name.  He also served as chairman on the New York County Medical Society's committee on the Abuse of Medical Charity.

In its May 15, 1896 edition, The New York Polyclinic announced, "The Editorial Office of the Polyclinic has been removed to 128 West 82d Street, New York City, to which address all communications intended for the Editor of the Journal should be sent in future."

Dr. Burtenshaw leased 128 West 82nd Street until 1901 when Louis de Gumones sold it to Florence A. Foster.  She resold it in 1902 to Anna K. Daniel, who operated it as a high-end boarding house.

Among the initial boarders was the Reynolds family.  Their  two sons were attending Yale and Princeton.  Living with her parents was 18-year-old Jessie, described by The New York Press as a "girl of refinement."  She became involved in a bizarre incident in the fall of 1903.  

Jessie was close friends with Maude Wise, the daughter of Dr. Peter N. Wise, whose summer home was in New Rochelle.  In October, Jessie was invited to spend a week there, and The New York Press recounted, "Miss Reynolds was introduced into the best circles in New Rochelle."  The article continued, "During the week she was the guest of Dr. Wise she was one of the most popular girls in the town.  She was pretty and accomplished and soon became a great favorite."

About a week after Jennie returned to Manhattan, Dr. Wise received a bill from a Sixth Avenue department store for $217.88 (nearly $7,000 in 2023 money).  The store said the purchases had been made by his daughter, but Maude claimed she had not bought any goods.  When questioned, the sales clerks described a young women matching Jessie Reynold's description.

A detective took one of the saleswomen to 128 West 82nd Street, but she was unable to positively identify Jessie as the purchaser.  Undaunted, Special Officer John F. Larkin waited outside 128 West 82nd Street on November 12, 1903, and when Jessie emerged, he arrested her.  Larkin said "she admitted having received [the goods] and then became hysterical."

Jessie was taken to the Jefferson Market Court where, according to The New York Press, "Magistrate Ommen was struck by the girl's refinement.  He noticed also she acted peculiarly, and when questioned she said the only thing which worried her was that she was afraid she would not be able to see the Yale-Princeton football game."

Because Jessie refused to reveal who her parents were or where they could be contacted, she was detained.  The New York Times said, "It was very late in the day when her family learned of the girl's arrest...Owing to the lateness of the hour, the lawyer failed to find a bondsman."  And so, Jessie spent the night in the Women's Ward of the Jefferson Market Police Court.

A reporter went to the West 82nd Street house and spoke to "the woman who opened the door" (most likely Anna Daniel).  She said:

I will not tell anything about her, but I can assure you everything will be all right in the end.  Miss Reynolds does not need to obtain things under false pretense, and I cannot believe that she did so.

On November 24, 1903 Jessie appeared in court with her mother.  The World described the unlikely defendant as being "dressed in a stylish gray gown and did not appear in the least disconcerted."  It seems that the Reynolds family (who owned "large interests in Princeton, New Jersey," according to The New York Times) had settled up financially with the Wise family.  The World reported that because no one appeared in court to press charges, Jessie was released.

A year later a clever thief was plaguing boarding houses.  On January 2, 1905 the New York Herald reported, "For six months detectives have gone every Monday morning to high class furnished room houses that advertised on Sunday for patrons and told the proprietors to watch for a man...who would call, say he was just up from Lakewood for a few days and, engaging a room, would pay board a week or two in advance to obviate demand for references."

He was James G. Walker, alias Lawrence Macy.  The 42-year-old was described by the New York Herald as "educated, polished, of refined and prosperous appearance and asserting that he held a degree from Oxford University."  He could afford to pay the up-front rent, because the valuables he removed from other boarders' rooms more than made up for the expense.

On New Year's Day 1905, E. B. Cushman caught Walker leaving his room with clothing.  A maid ran for police, who caught Walker climbing out the parlor window.  In exchange for not having to face the "scores of persons he admits having robbed" of "thousands of dollars" in jewelry and clothing, Walker confessed.  He admitted to detectives he was "the most noted room thief in America."  

Mrs. Viva A. Brewer, another of Anna Daniels's boarders, was also burglarized.  She lost $1,000 worth of jewelry (nearly $31,500 in 2023).

The boarders continued to be well-to-do and professional.  Lawyer Frank K. Johnston lived here in 1905, and two years later Columbia University educated attorney Andrew Jack Dewey boarded with Anna Daniels.

Voice teacher Betty Askenasy lived and taught from her rooms in 1912.  On February 18 that year, The New York Times announced she "will give a musicale and reception this afternoon in her studio, 128 West Eighty-second Street."

One boarder was the victim of a horrific accident in the summer of 1915.  Paula Schwerter was secretary of the Transatlantic Import Company.  A German native, she had worked in the firm's Berlin office until being transferred to New York in 1913.

The 38-year-old was close friends of Peter Voss and his wife.  On the evening of Saturday, July 31, 1915, Betty and Peter took a train to visit friends in Glen Rock, New Jersey.  The Patterson Morning Call reported, "They were not familiar with that locality, and they alighted from the car at the wrong place."  They had to walk along the train tracks to the station, which required them to cross a trestle.  Voss later explained, "It was so dark that we really did not know we were on the trestle until Miss Schwerter's umbrella went down between the ties."

The two were midway across the span when the lights of a train could be seen coming around the bend ahead.  Not knowing how high they were, Voss climbed over the edge of the trestle, thinking he could drop to the ground and then help Paula.  Instead, he found himself clinging to the edge as the train drew nearer.

"I yelled to Miss Schwerter to climb down to the side of the trestle, but all I remember is that she screamed as the car passed over me."  Paula either jumped or was knocked off the trestle by the train.  The train stopped and crew members "helped carry Miss Schwerter to the car and she was taken to Paterson," reported The New York Times.  She died at the hospital there.  Her injuries suggested she had been struck by the train before falling 25 feet to the ground.

The house became a private residence again in 1916, home to Dr. Charles Rochester Eastman and his wife, the former Caroline Amelia Clark.  Born in Cedar Rapids, Iowa in 1868, Eastman was a renowned scientist, a paleontologist and geologist with a special interest in fish.  He had graduated from Harvard in 1890, and earned his Ph. D. at the Munich University a year later.  The couple's purchase of 128 East 82nd Street was most likely influenced by its proximity to the American Museum of Natural History, where Eastman had been a staff member since 1914.

Dr. Charles R. Eastman (original source unknown)

When the United States entered World War I, Eastman was recruited for the War Trade Board at Washington D.C.  He temporarily left his position at the museum to undertake that assignment.  The Sun reported, "His work was of an arduous nature and he was not physically strong."  Things got worse for Eastman when the devastating influenza pandemic of 1918 hit Washington.  The scientist was infected in September.

The Sun reported on September 30, 1918, "An attack of Spanish influenza which came a few days ago led to the advice that he go to the seashore."  Charles and Caroline went to Long Beach for his recuperation.  After dinner on Friday night September 27 Charles went for a walk.  But he never returned.

The next morning a body, fully dressed, was found in the water.  The Sun reported, "none of those who saw it seemed to recognize the well dressed stranger as the man whose scientific writings had gained wide fame all over the world."  It would be another 24 hours before the body was identified.  Suicide was not only shameful for family members, but was criminal.  And so, if Eastman had purposely drowned himself, the facts were covered up.

The Sun reported on September 30, "It was said last night that Dr. Eastman probably went for a walk Friday night after dinner, and that when he reached the end of the sea walk he was attacked by dizziness."  The newspaper called him, "one of the best known scientists in the country."

The West 82nd Street house was sold to Edward C. Parker in 1920.  He hired architect Charles F. Winkelman in March to alter it into apartments.  The Record & Guide placed the cost of the renovations at $10,000. 

A subsequent alteration, completed in 1940, marked a downturn in the building's history.  There was now a warren of small apartments and furnished rooms throughout the house.

Living here in 1969 was 25-year-old Harvey Fleetwood 3d.  He was the son of banker Harvey Fleetwood Jr. and Dr. Maria Fleetwood, a New York psychiatrist and Cornell University professor.  Harvey landed a job that year as a community affairs reporter for The Manhattan Tribune, an Upper West Side weekly newspaper.  He wrote a human interest piece for the January 25, 1970 issue based on his interview with a 16-year-old narcotics addict.  It turned out to be an ironic choice of subjects.

Journalism was merely an advocation of the entrepreneurial young man.  He recruited young people to travel to India and Syria, paying their airfares, then return to the United States as "mules," carrying large amounts of drugs.  The scheme fell apart when 25-year-old Constance Ziambardi got off a plane at her stop-over in San Juan carrying a scuba tank and a three-foot long stuffed animal.  The New York Times reported on January 27, "A customs inspector became suspicious when she asked that he watch the gear while she made ticket arrangements to continue to New York."  Inside the toy horse and scuba tank were 63 pounds of hashish, valued at nearly 1.5 million in 2023 dollars.

After her arrest, Harvey Fleetwood telephoned the San Juan jail on her behalf, identifying himself as a United States marshal.  The connection led to an unraveling of a vast ring headed by Fleetwood.  Within days six other drug transporters hired by Fleetwood were in jail in San Juan, all of whom told the same story.  Harvey was the last to be captured, and it came on the very day his article on the drug addict appeared.  On January 27 The New York Times reported, "Mr. Fleetwood was arrested on Sunday after a high-speed automobile chase down Fifth Avenue, according to the Federal authorities."

Around 2014, 128 West 82nd Street was restored to a single family home.  One of only two of the 1886 row to survive, it still exudes the charm that attracted Horace Clark and his wife nearly 140 years ago.

photograph by the author

no permission to reuse the content of this blog has been granted to LaptrinhX.com

The 1888 Charles T. Wills House - 309 West 82nd Street

 

image via realtyhop.com

A partner with Edward H. Clark in the architectural firm of Berg & Clark, Charles Berg also operated on his own as a real estate operator.  In 1887 he began construction of a row of five upscale homes on the north side of West 82nd Street, between Riverside Drive and West End Avenue.  Each cost $15,000 to construct--roughly $441,000 by 2023 standards.  Berg & Clark designed the row in a modified version of the Romanesque Revival style.  

At the eastern end of the row, 307 and 309 West 82nd Street were nearly mirror images of one another.  Each 20-feet-wide, their stone stoops gently curved upward to a single porch shared by the arched entrances.  The rounded bay of 309 rose three stories to a balcony in front of the slate shingled mansard.

The upper floors were clad in what is known as Tiffany brick.  image via streeteasy.com

There was apparently a deal struck between Berg and the builder, Charles T. Wills, for when the homes were completed Wills held title to 309 and moved his family in.   

Wills had come a long way since he started his career at the age of 17 as a bricklayer.  He was the founder and president of C. T. Wills, Inc., which erected structures like the New York Stock Exchange, the Chamber of Commerce, the Morgan Library, the American Surety Building, and All Angels' Church among many others.  He was, as well, a vice president of the Garfield Safe Deposit Company and a director in a bank and the United States Mortar Company.  Wills and his wife, the former Carrie Russell, had two sons, Ernest C. and Charles S., and a daughter Ruth.

Seven years after moving in, Wills brought Berg & Clark back to enlarge the house.  Their plans, filed on July 20, 1894, called for a one-story extension to the rear.

The two stoops curve gracefully to the shared porch.  image via streeteasy.com

The family's summer home was in Belle Haven, Connecticut.  Along with his many memberships in Manhattan clubs--the Union League, West End, and General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen among them--he was a member of numerous clubs in the country.  He held memberships to no fewer than four yacht clubs, two riding clubs, and the Fairfield County Golf Club.  He was also a member of the Westchester County Horse Show and the State Road Horse Associations.  It may have been his decidedly non-urban passions that prompted him and Ruth to move permanently to Connecticut at the turn of the century.

They leased 309 West 82nd Street to Frederick R. Wood, the senior member of F. R. Wood & Son, carriage builders.  Born in 1825, he had served in the Washington Grays militia unit during the 1850's.  Wood's health was not good when he signed the lease, and he died in the house on March 2, 1900 at the age of 75.

The following year, attorney Hugo S. Mack and his wife leased the house.  He and Wills most likely knew one another professionally, since Mack's clients included major builders and contractors and he dabbled in real estate, as well.  

He and his wife Ida Abagail Woolf had two children, Alan Winthrop and Marjorie Faith.  Like all wives of affluent husbands, Ida was involved in charitable causes and in 1903 was secretary of the Ladies' Bikur Cholim Society and the Industrial School for Poor Girls on East Broadway.

On May 23, 1908 Charles T. Wills sold 309 West 82nd Street at auction.  The listing said, "Property contains 14 rooms and 3 baths, wine cellar, billiard room, library, cabinet finish and trim, rosewood, &c."  It was purchased by Virginia Potter for just over 1 million in 2022 dollars. 

She resold it two years later to Isaac George Waterman, who transferred the title to Daisy Greene a week later.  His generosity, no doubt, caused more than a few raised eyebrows.

Daisy Greene was born in Leeds, England in 1885.  In 1900, at the age of 15, she became one of the original Florodora girls.  The show was enormously successful, making the girls superstars of their generation.  After performing in light operas in London on her own, Daisy came to New York City and was a member of the 1908 Ziegfeld Follies.

Daisy Greene is the second from left in this photograph of the Florodora Girls.  (original source unknown)

Daisy and Isaac Waterman struck up a romance.  His lavish gift of a costly house may have raised suspicions about how far-reaching their affair was.  And those suspicions were no doubt strengthened when Daisy identified herself as a married woman in a help-wanted ad on October 4, 1911:

Useful and willing white girl to do homework and can help as maid; city references.  Call between 11 and 2.  Mrs. Greene, 309 West 82d.

Any gossip that may have followed was squelched when the couple married in 1914.  Living in the house either at the time or directly afterward were Daisy's parents, Herman and Cecilia Greene.  Herman died here on August 3, 1915.

That year Isaac and Daisy purchased the house next door at 311 West 82nd Street.  They would lease the property for years as rental income.

Unlike many female entertainers, Daisy had continued her career after marriage.  On March 12, 1920, Marguerite Mooers Marshal, writing in The Evening World, followed up on the original Florodora Girls.  She wrote, "Daisy Greene, the other New Yorker, took some lucky Wall Street flyers, and graduated into comic opera, in which she has been a successful prima donna."

Six months after that article, on September 7, Isaac George Waterman died in the West 82nd Street house.  His funeral was held in the parlor two days later, followed by a mass at the nearby Holy Trinity Church.

Daisy's year of mourning had barely elapsed when gossip spread that she not only was romantically involved, but married.  She had traveled to Rome and, according to the Daily News, rumors arrived in New York by cable "that Mrs. Waterman, while abroad, had married Prince Virginio Orsinia, of Italy."  A reporter visited Daisy at 309 West 82nd Street to find the truth.

In an article on September 27, Daisy "admitted the Prince had been a 'most persistent wooer.'"  She said, "The Prince, who is a member of one of the oldest and best families in Italy, proposed to me a number of times.  My friends are at [a] loss to understand why I refused his offers."  But, although English by birth, she explained, "I am too much of an American to marry a foreigner for the social position his title and rank might give me."

In May 1925 Daisy sold both 309 and 311 West 82nd Street.  They became Miss Ferguson's Residence, a closely chaperoned boarding house for the daughters of wealthy families in New York for schooling.  An advertisement in House & Garden described it as, "A home of exclusive patronage for girl students attending school, college or special courses in New York."  While both houses received "extensive improvements," according to The New York Times, they were not joined internally.

The two residences were sold at auction in 1932, after which time 309 West 82nd Street was operated as a rooming house.  Then, a renovation in 1953 resulted in combination of apartments and furnished rooms.  

Among the tenants in 1955 was actor Lee Hays.  The well-rounded thespian worked in television, films and live theater.  In July that year he received a subpoena from Francis E. Walter, chairman of the House Un-American Activities Committee.  The committee was formed in 1938 to investigate subversive activities.  By now it was widely-known for targeting the entertainment industry and its investigations often resulted in an actor's being placed on the Hollywood blacklist.  Happily, at least for this Lee Hays, the committee had sent the subpoena to the wrong man.   The intended recipient was folk singer Lee Hays.

image via douglaselliman.com

A remodeling completed in 2014 resulted in a penthouse unseen from street level, and a total of 15 apartments.

no permission to reuse the content of this blog has been granted to LaptrinhX.com