Stanford White's 1907 Colony Club -- 120 Madison Avenue

Scaffolding obsured the street level in 2014.

At the middle of the 19th century, every well-to-do gentleman in Manhattan boasted membership to at least one exclusive club.  The wide-range of clubs—based on professional, recreational or simply social interests—provided the men not only a place of refuge and conversation, but also a place to stay during the summer months, when their mansions were shuttered and the families were off to country homes or resorts.  There were several women's organizations, but none of them had an established clubhouse.  Then, in 1905 that was all about to change.

Five years earlier, in Newport, Florence Harriman (the wife of J. Borden Harriman), Anne G. Morgan (daughter of J. P. Morgan), and Helen Barney “first talked of the desirability of having a common meeting place for women such as a well appointed clubhouse offers to men,” as reported by the New-York Tribune.  The newspaper said that the Colony Club, “was really formed in order to build and own the clubhouse,” rather than the clubhouse being built to accommodate a club.

The club was officially organized in December 1903 and two years later was ready to build.  The New-York Tribune remarked, “Oddly enough, it is not the regular clubwoman set at all that is to erect what will undoubtedly be a fine and, in many respects, unique clubhouse, but a group of wealthy women who have, as a rule, small use for women’s clubs, never are guilty of reading ‘papers’ and evince small concern over the higher education of women, the progress of their sex and the other things which clubwomen go in for.”  While the highly-critical judgment was, in fact, somewhat off base, the Colony Club would nevertheless emerge as not only the most exclusive women’s club in the country, but the most expensive.

The club roster, which was limited to 700, included the likes of Mrs. John Jacob Astor.  The initiation fee was $150 and the annual dues was $100.  The combined $250 would be equivalent to about $6,500 today.

In 1904, millionaires Charles J. Barney, J. Pierpont Morgan, Frank Polk and Julian Gerard, who composed the club's advisory board, paid $200,000 for three brownstone-fronted houses at 120, 122 and 124 Madison Avenue.  On February 26, 1905, the New-York Tribune noted, “The tenants are to be asked to vacate by May 1, and by the 15^th of the month the houses will be demolished preparatory to erecting the new structure.”

The women’s initial idea of “A modest little house where the members could stay overnight, meet friends, leave parcels or take luncheon” slowly grew in grandeur.  Theirs would be a magnificent clubhouse to rival any of the gentlemen’s clubs in the city.  Mrs. John Jacob Astor came up with the idea that the building “should include some provision for athletics.”

The women of the Colony Club hired Stanford White to design their structure which the New-York Tribune said would be “in the severest Colonial style.”  Construction took two years, and as the building rose, Elsie de Wolfe was put in charge of the interior decorations.  The former actress had already turned American interior design on its head by stripping rooms of their fussy Victorian trappings and replacing them with light colors, white-painted French furniture, and minimal ornamentation.

On October 21, 1906, she explained to The Sun,

When a woman reaches her hotel after a day’s journeying in cars or motor I do not believe she cares an infinitesimal bit whether or not her bed is of gilded wood with cupids rampant on the four corners, neither does she care whether the curtains fall in classic folds from ceiling to floor and whether the name of a celebrated artist adorns one corner of the pictures…What they want first of all is a good bath and after that they want to find that the lights on the dressing table are properly arranged so that they can sit there and get some idea of how their hair looks after it is combed and other important data of the same kind.

She said of the decorating project, “While it has been a tremendous responsibility, it has been a tremendous pleasure as well.”

Four months later, on February 16, 1907, just four days before the official opening, the New-York Tribune reported on the nearly-completed structure.  The Colony Club “has now erected the finest clubhouse of its kind on this continent, and it is doubtful if London, with its dozen or more women’s clubhouses—the Lyceum, Bath and Empress, notably—or Paris, with its French counterpart of the London Lyceum, can boast anything in the way of a woman’s clubhouse so complete, artistic and beautiful.”

The newspaper noted the architect’s careful research for the building.  “Many an old Colonial inn and mansion was studied by Mr. White for the completion of his design, and it is interesting to note that he regarded the building, both inside and out, as one of his most successful efforts.”   Western Architect and Engineer echoed that sentiment, saying, “he considered it one of his best pieces of work.  And yet he has the buildings of the Metropolitan Club (the millionaires’ club), the University Club and the Harvard Club of New York standing as wonderful monuments to his architectural genius.”

A pergola, visible from the street, hints at the roof garden.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the MCNY http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1GIOYS57&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

Including the land and the $50,000 in furnishings, the completed clubhouse cost a staggering $500,000—about $12 million today.  The exterior was clad in dull red brick, trimmed in white marble.  Six stories tall, it mimicked an 18^th century mansion with splayed lintels, a slate-shingled mansard behind a unique railing, and a second-story “veranda” accessed on the second floor by French doors.

On the first floor were the “strangers’ reception room,” the office, reading and writing rooms, the Trellis Room (which would repeatedly get press attention), and the tea room.  “Generally speaking, the building is finished in white woodwork with mahogany doors and glass knobs,” said The Sun.  Elsie de Wolfe had seen to the furniture, nearly all of which was custom-designed.  The newel posts of the main staircase drew special attention—they were made of cut glass.

The Sun made special note of the Trellis Room:

The walls of this winter garden consist of diamond shaped trellises with opaque glass interstices, the whole laden with growing ivy.  A fountain in an alcove, with real flowers growing about a marble Cupid from Paris, is a feature of this unique and exquisite room.  Blue and buff form the color scheme of the tea room.  The reading room, which is done in Adams, has curtains of tapestry woven from some of the old embroideries in the South Kensington museum.

The Trellis Room featured latticed walls and a fountain -- The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine November 1910 (copyright expired)

In the basement was the swimming pool Mrs. J. J. Astor so wanted.  It sat within a green-latticed room lighted by glass grapes “with electric fairy lamps hidden in the foliage.”  On the walls were large Venetian mirrors “which rise from the water’s edge to the ceiling.”  The pool was the second largest in any club in the country.

The ceiling of the swimming pool was lattice and vine covered -- The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine November 1910 (copyright expired)

The swimming pool level was a haven for relaxation.  There were also a medicinal bath, 14 “resting rooms," dressing rooms, a lounging room, manicure, massage and other rooms.  “All are finished in white marble and Pompeiian cement,” said The Sun.

On the double-height second floor was the gymnasium, 33 by 60 feet that included a running track.  The 75-foot-long Louis XV-style Assembly Room was on this floor and was intended for lectures, dances and other large functions. 

Wealthy club members enjoy luncheon amid Japanese lanterns and potted palms -- The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine November 1910 (copyright expired)

There were eleven bedroom suites on the fourth floor, each with its own bath.  Also on this level were two squash courts.  Above was the main dining room and a “general restaurant where members may entertain men friends.”  There was also a roof garden invisible from the street.

Even with all its athletic facilities, The Sun noted that the club would not be quite as forward-thinking as its European counterparts in one area.  “The Colony Club will not follow the English women’s clubs in this respect, there will be no billiard or smoking room.”

Like the men’s clubs, the Colony Club would offer members a place to stay.  “The women who flit back and forth between New-York, London and the Continent, and the unchaperoned girl or young woman, can put up at the club, enjoying not only material comfort, but protection such as no other place could offer, while the facilities for athletic exercise and medicinal baths of all kinds will be unrivaled, it is said, by any club house in the world,” reported The New York Tribune.

The Western Architect and Engineer described the club as “essentially American in both its purpose and its methods, and is an organization for women on exactly the same lines as those which govern men’s clubs.  Besides being a social organization, it is a literary and athletic club as well.  Its membership includes practically all the women of social prominence about New York, as well as the leading women authors, actresses, musicians and artists both in New York and elsewhere.  It is founded upon a basis very much broader than any man’s club, but follows quite closely the main ideas of our own Bohemian Club.”

Century Magazine, three years later, considered the Colony Club's achievements since its opening.  “As a club, very little; as an influence, a great deal,” it decided.  The club instituted a regular Tuesday “club-day” during the winter months for “free and tolerant discussion.”  The magazine said “it is impartially apportioned among literary, artistic, and civic topics.”  Politically- and socially-sensitive topics were openly discussed.  “Although probably the majority of the members are not themselves advocates of woman-suffrage, the subject has been included among the topics of chief interest to the sex,” said Century.  “One day it is the future of the drama which is discussed; another the lot of the poor whites in the South; again, woman’s invasion of modern industry.”

The members staged exhibitions like that of 18^th century furniture and decoration in 1910.  Club women loaned vintage silver and china, and Chippendale, Adam and Sheraton pieces from their homes.  Another exhibition was of mezzotints—copies of Reynolds, Romney, Gainsborough and Horner, for example.  Once again the works were loaned from the members’ mansions.

The assembly hall was used by the members not only for entertainments, but for “any purpose which does not conflict with the governing board’s standard of what is suitable.”  Therefore, when women sympathetic to the cause of the striking shirt-waist workers needed a place to meet, they used the room.

On New Year’s Day 1912, Mrs. Philip Snowden spoke on the subject of marriage at the Colony Club.  Her lecture, reduced by a newspaper to a sentence, was “Marriage, which makes two one, is a lifelong struggle to discover which is that one.”

In 1900 the wealthy Mrs. Thomas Hastings had founded the Ladies Four-in-Hand Club.  It was somewhat shocking in that it offered well-bred women the opportunity to enjoy coaching by driving the coaches themselves.  The Sun reported on April 7 that year, “Twenty-five members were enrolled at the start, among whom were Miss Gulliver and Miss Barney, who are named as among Mrs. Hastings most ardent supporters at that time.”

Mrs. Thomas Hastings prepares to drive The Arrow from in front of the Colony Club -- photograph from the collection of the Library of Congress.

By 1912 the club owned its own coach “The Arrow” and the women ran it daily between the Colony Club and Dyckman Street.  The coach left the Colony Club at 10:30 in the morning, returning at 4:00 and included “a stop of nearly two hours for luncheon in Bronx Park,” according to The Sun.

Topiary trees decorate the second floor balcony in 1908 -- photographer unknown  from the collection of the MCNY http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1GIOYS57&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

After only seven years in their magnificent clubhouse--described by Club Women of New York as “a fine specimen of the colonial style of architecture”--the Colony Club laid plans to move.  On February 28, 1914 the membership voted to buy land at the northwest corner of Park Avenue and 62^nd Street as the site for its new headquarters.  “It became evident months ago that the club had outgrown its present home in Madison avenue,” reported The Sun on March 1.

On September 15, 1917, the Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide reported that the Madison Avenue building had been purchased by Mrs. Nicholas F. Brady “for about $400,000.”  The Guide noted, “Until the termination of the war the use of the house has been given to the Red Cross.  Mrs. Brady’s husband is the youngest son of the late Anthony M. Brady…He was a member of the Red Cross mission to Italy last July.”  The clubhouse was used first as a convalescent hospital, then as a nurses’ mobilization center.

As the Real Estate Record and Guide had predicted, with the end of World War I the Red Cross moved out and Mrs. Brady offered the clubhouse to the new Carroll Club for Catholic girls.  “The Carroll Club represents a new idea,” said Gas Logic.  “It is a social as well as commercial association for Catholic business women.”

The Carroll Club women did not update Elsie de Wolfe's lattice-work Trellis Room.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the MCNY http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1GIOYBEO&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

The Carroll Club did little alteration to the building.  The pool was used for swimming instruction, the assembly room for drama classes.  There were typing classes and in the large kitchen cooking classes were held.  “The Carroll Club’s ambitions are sky-high, in keeping with the enthusiasm of the fairy god-mother who prefers to remain in the invisible background and wave her wand, incognito.” 

TOP --The vines are gone, but the lattice ceiling and the Venetian mirrors survive as Carroll Club girls learn to swim. -- 

BOTTOM:  Members use the former Assembly Room for thespian classes -- photos by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the MCNY http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UP1GIOYBEO&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

In 1956 the Carroll Club moved to 22 East 38^th Street and the building was sold to Simon Brothers, a real estate development firm.  The company sold the property a year later and on May 28, 1957 The New York Times reported on the conversion that was underway.

“The newest and most elegant addition to the off- Broadway theatre movement will be a six-story building containing three small playhouses…It will house two proscenium and one arena-style theatres, each seating about 200 persons.  The theatres will be operated simultaneously, with the production emphasis on original scripts with new acting talent.”

The developers, surprisingly enough, decided to keep many of the existing facilities.  “To be called the Seven Arts Center, the building—which will also house a restaurant, bar, swimming pool, art gallery, and lounges for its theatre patrons.”

The Center opened on February 27, 1958 and offered along with live theater, a Ballet Russe dance school, modern and Indian dance classes, art exhibition and lecture spaces.  Among those who made their debut on the live stage here was Mia Farrow, who appeared in The Importance of Being Earnest.

In 1963 the building was purchased for about $500,000 by the American Academy of Dramatic Arts.  Helping to raise the funds for the purpose were trustees like Lillian Gish, Joel Schenker and Philip Wittenberg.  Upon announcing the purchase the Academy said, “Extensive alterations, estimated at $100,000 will be necessary.  The changes will be supervised by Giorgio Cavaglieri, architect.”  Thankfully, Cavaglieri was already well-known for his historic architectural preservation work.

The exterior was restored in 2003 and, at the time, the original glass grape lighting fixtures of the swimming pool level had survived, the lattice-work was still intact as were the original fixtures of the ballroom.

Despite the tragic loss of the second-story porch, Stanford White’s handsome neo-Federal Colony Club still stands out as a distinguished, magnificent landmark.

non-historic photographs taken by the author

The Lost George Crocker Mansion - 1 East 64th Street

 

Architecture published a photograph of the mansion by Wurts Bros. shortly after its completion -- (copyright expired)

The brownstone mansion of wealthy widow Helen M. Knickerbocker was architecturally out of fashion by 1897.  Sitting at the corner of Fifth Avenue and 64^th Street, it was designed by brothers David and John Jardine in 1872.  The French Second Empire-style residence was now a relic of the post-Civil War years.  A newspaper would recall, “Mr. [Henry] Knickerbocker purchased the corner and adjoining property in 1868 when the boom in property incident to the laying out of Central Park was on.”

But now, Mrs. Knickerbocker’s neighborhood was filling with marble and limestone palaces as the older brownstones were razed in favor of more fashionable homes.

 

A decade earlier, in April 1887, California railroad tycoon Charles Crocker had purchased the Hutchinson mansion on 58^th Street (next door to Cornelius Vanderbilt III’s block-engulfing chateau), for his newly married daughter, Hattie, and her husband, Charles Beatty Alexander.  Crocker was less optimistic about the prospects of his youngest son, George, who had a reputation of “being a reckless young man,” according to The New York Times years later.

Charles Crocker’s will, therefore, stipulated that before George would not inherit a dime unless “for the space of five years continuously he shall abstain from the use of spirituous, vinous, or malt liquors, to the extent that he shall not during  this period have been intoxicated.”  George complied.  In 1894, six years after his father’s death, he inherited $6 million of his father’s $30 million estate.

The 1904 Prominent and Progressive Americans would say of him, “His father’s wealth made it unnecessary for him to engage in any struggle for a livelihood.”  Nevertheless, George assumed his role in the family railroad business. 

The handsome George Crocker in 1904 -- Prominent and Progressive Americans (copyright expired)

George Crocker had been an intimate friend of California mine owner Alexander Rutherford, who died on March 16, 1893.  A year later, on June 5, 1894, he married Rutherford’s widow, Emma Hanchett Rutherford, in a fashionable Fifth Avenue ceremony in St. Thomas's Church.  The San Francisco Call said “She is a beautiful woman, who has entertained well and intensively at her residence on Bush street, but since her husband’s death she has resided in New York City.”  Along with his bride came her three children, Alexander, Emma and Alice.

Now, three years later, George, would set his sights on Helen Knickerbocker’s house.  On September 29, 1897 The New York Times reported that Mrs. Knickerbocker had sold her “four-story brownstone-fronted dwelling” to George Crocker, “the California millionaire.”  It was the end of the line for the staid old home.  “It is said to be Mr. Crocker’s intention to demolish the present house and erect a residence for his own occupancy,” said the newspaper.

George Crocker gave to the architectural firm of Bright & Bacon the task of replacing the Henry Knickerbocker house with an up-to-date mansion.  Plans were filed on January 27, 1898 and the San Francisco Call reported, “it will be five stories in height” and estimated the cost at $100,000—nearly $3 million today.

The completed house at 1 East 64^th Street would reflect the couple’s wealth and social position.  The Beaux-Arts-style mansion featured graceful French ironwork at the second story, a deep balcony accessed by French doors within a dramatic arch above the entrance, and an ornate mansard with oriels, dormers, stone urns and a decorative balustrade.  As expected in the late 1890s, the mansion was designed with period rooms, filled with appropriate antiques, tapestries and artworks.

“The reception room,” said The New York Times, “whose walls are covered with gold brocade, has furniture of the Louis XIV and Louis XV periods, sofas, chairs, and tables and a feature of the room is a large Louis XV desk of mahogany, with ornamentation in chiseled and gilt ormolu in designs of cupids and mythological subjects.  There is a little statuette of Louis XIV in wood and ivory in this room, vases of Sevres and Chinese porcelain, and the floor is covered with handsome rugs.”

The reception room fronted Fifth Avenue, separated from the dining room by a spacious staircase hall.  The New York Times made note of the antiques in the entrance hall.  “The special feature of the hall is an old Italian carved marble font, with a triangular base, which stands just below the stairs, and a pair of Chinese palace jars of the Ch’ien Lung period.”

Red velvet ropes led up the marble staircases “held in place by dolphin supports,” reported the newspaper.  The ropes matched the red carpeting of the hall.  The first floor drawing room was furnished in Louis XV and Louis XVI antiques.

“The drawing room suite is after one in the Palace of Fontainebleau, upholstered in fine Aubusson tapestry, with scenes from the fables of La Fontaine,” said The Times.  “There are vitrines, console tables, a great pair of bronze and gilt torches, Neptune and Aphrodite, each a seated bronze figure and forming the andirons, and Persian rugs on the floor.  A Corot is among the pictures in this room.”

photograph from the Catalogue of Costly Furnishings Contained in the Residence of  the Late George Crocker, 1912 (copyright expired)

In Crocker’s masculine oak-paneled library hung a Gainsborough, a Sir Thomas Lawrence, and several paintings by Van Loo and Cesare Detti.  The walls of the “Pink Boudoir” on the second floor were covered with rose pink damask and the room was furnished with French antiques.  “There is more furniture of French design in a boudoir adjoining this room, and the furniture is in the same period in the white and gold bedroom on the same floor, with the walls covered in a deep, rich red brocade,” said the newspaper.

Below street level was the smoking room with heavy oak and walnut furniture upholstered in dark red.

 

Emma Hanchett Rutherford Crocker photograph The San Francisco Call July 20, 1904 (copyright expired)

Emma Crocker’s entertainments in the new mansion started immediately.  On January 24, 1900 The New York Times noted, “Mrs. George Crocker gave yesterday at her residence…a luncheon of fifteen covers.”  White lilacs in a tall silver vase served as the centerpiece and green and white orchids adorned a side table.  To entertain her guests, the newspaper said, “A band of colored minstrels played banjo and other music during the luncheon.”

 

photograph from the Catalogue of Costly Furnishings Contained in the Residence of  the Late George Crocker, 1912 (copyright expired)

On March 7 of that year, Emma gave a “tea, with music” as reported in the New-York Tribune, “in honor of her daughters, the Misses Rutherford.”

The lavish mansion was threatened on April 27, 1901.  The Geneva Daily Times of Geneva, New York reported, “The big white palace of millionaire George Crocker, at Fifth avenue and 64^th street, with its contents of priceless art treasures, narrowly escaped being destroyed by fire this morning.”

The fire had started in a gas radiator on the second floor.  “It spread to the oiled floor, and a number of costly Turkish rugs and fine tapestry hangings were burned,” said the newspaper.  A bucket brigade composed of servants helped extinguish the blaze, however the expensive furnishings were heavily damaged bywater.

George Crocker's library, with its elaborate ceiling, contained many treasures; and some books -- photograph from the Catalogue of Costly Furnishings Contained in the Residence of  the Late George Crocker, 1912 (copyright expired)

Entertainments for daughter Emma’s introduction into society were expectedly extravagant.  On January 9, 1902, the Crockers gave a “very pretty dinner and dance,” according to the San Francisco Call.  Emma Crocker decorated the house with potted orange trees.  A collition followed dinner.  The guest list that evening included the most prominent of Manhattan society.  Among them were Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish, Mr. and Mrs. Oliver H. P. Belmont, Mrs. Herman Oelrichs, and Mr. and Mrs. Pembroke Jones.

The Crockers summered at their Newport cottage, Shields Villa; built a mansion at Darlington, New Jersey deemed by the San Franciso Call to be “of palatial proportions;” and (as was appropriate for the family of railroad tycoon), traveled about in their luxurious private railway car, the Emalita.  In 1903, however, the glittering life of the Crocker family was about to change.

Alice was engaged to John Langdon Erving and excitement for a sumptuous social season was high.  As the winter season began, Emma gave a musicale during which opera star Lillian Nordica sang.  Unknown at the time, it would be the last entertainment Emma Crocker would give.  She had been diagnosed with cancer.

In February 1904, the 48-year-old socialite sailed to France where, according to The New York Times, an operation was performed.  She returned home, but by June, “her condition became so serious that anxiety as to the outcome of her sickness was felt.”

Despite her critical condition, Emma made the annual pilgrimage to Newport in July, traveling by boat “to avoid changes and to make the journey as easy as possible.”  Constantly attended by nurses and physicians, her condition worsened until July 25 when she slipped into unconsciousness.

Emma’s bedroom in the Newport cottage was filled with family—George and the three children, J. Langdon Erving, and Emma’s sister and brother-in-law.  On July 26, 1904, she died without regaining consciousness.

In reporting her death, The New York Times noted that soon after marrying George Crocker she:

...began a brilliant social career.  She had a cottage at Newport and a town house and entertained lavishly, the affairs at the Crocker house generally taking the form of musicals and large dinners.  She moved in the same set with Mrs. Herman Oelrichs and Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont.

Alice’s Newport wedding “which would have been the leading social event of the season,” according to The New York Times, was postponed “and all arrangements for the future movements of Mr. Erving and Miss Rutherford will be held in abeyance.”  The newspaper anticipated that Mrs. Herman Oelrichs would recall the invitations to all her social entertainments.

In his grief, George struck out at the attending physician, Dr. Doyen, suing him for $20,000 “on the ground that ‘veritable moral violence’ had been used to convince him that she could be cured,” said the San Francisco Call.

George Crocker turned his philanthropic focus to the study, prevention and cure of cancer.  He donated $50,000 to Columbia College “to encourage a study of the disease.”  His near-obsession with his new-found cause would end in a bitter family battle a few years later.

Ironically, within a few years of Emma’s death George was diagnosed with cancer.  He underwent two operations.  But the condition deteriorated and at 5:15 on the afternoon of December 4, 1909 the 54-year-old multi-millionaire died in the Fifth Avenue mansion. 

Four days later, The New York Times reported that Columbia College was to receive about $1.5 million to be known as the “George Crocker Special Research Fund.”  The income from the fund would be used for cancer research.  Crocker’s will instructed that the money for the fund come from the sale of the Fifth Avenue mansion.

photograph from the Catalogue of Costly Furnishings Contained in the Residence of  the Late George Crocker, 1912 (copyright expired)

At the time, the newspaper noted that Crocker left $25,000 to “his valet, Lee, and smaller bequests to other servants in his town house and country estate, measured by the length of their employment.”

Trouble, however, was on the horizon.  The mansion at 1 East 64^th Street was in Emma’s name at the time of her death.  Her will stipulated that it was to pass to George “for life, with the provision that it was to go to her children at his death.”  George’s estate, therefore, would be legally unable to sell the property.

Emma’s three children declared that up to the time of their mother’s death George had “exhibited loving and tender consideration toward them.”  Little by little, however, George had begun conniving how to wrest the Fifth Avenue property from them.  In December 1904, he promised to will each of them $300,000 in exchange for their interests in the property.  On January 13, 1905 the transfer of title was made. 

When George Crocker’s will was read, the Rutherford children were shocked and wounded.  In addition to the $25,000 Crocker had bequeathed his Chinese servant, Lee Hung Yung, he left $100,000 to Mrs. Charles A. Childs (who “often visited him at his country seat,” according to The New York Times); and to his brother and sister, William and Hattie, he left $3 million each.  The Rutherford children, Alexander, Emma and Alice, were bequeathed $100 apiece of the $12 million estate.  There was no mention of the $300,000 due each for their shares of the mansion.

The Rutherford children sued to negate the deed they had made under “false representations” and charged that Crocker had misused their trust to further his “fraudulent and wicked ends.”  The suit contended that the terms of the deed were “totally destroyed upon the death of George Crocker by the provision of his will.”

When they lost their court battle, each refused the $100 willed to them.

In a three-day auction in January 1912, everything in the house was sold.  Along with the costly antiques, artwork and furnishings, were the contents of Crocker’s wine cellar--valued at $11,593.

The mansion, itself, was sold to James B. Haggin.  He had made his millions in copper, and was well known in the horse racing circles.  On July 20, 1912, the first hint at health problems came when he was taken to the Good Samaritan Hospital in Lexington, Kentucky, where he had gone “in the interest of the tobacco pool.”

Like the Crockers, the Haggins entertained lavishly in their new home.  On June 8, 1913, The Sun said “Mrs. James B. Haggin gave an informal dance on Tuesday night at her new home, 1 East Sixty-fourth street, and in spite of the warm night it was a most enjoyable dance.  Mr. and Mrs. Haggin will soon go to Newport, where they have again leased Arleigh, the Pratt village in Bellevue avenue.”

A year later, a special report to The New York Times from Newport on August 16, 1914 said, “James B Haggin, the capitalist and sportsman, who has been very ill at his cottage here, showed improvement this afternoon over his condition of last night.”  Two doctors had been in attendance for 48 hours and said Haggin was “resting more comfortably.”

As if preparing his obituary, The New York Times noted, “Mr. Haggin is largely interested in mines in California, Montana, and Nevada and has several large stock farms in Kentucky, among which is the largest stud of racing and trotting horses in this country.  He is a member of the Union, Tuxedo, Riding, Turf and Field, and the Metropolitan Clubs of New York.”

A month later, James B. Haggin was dead.  He left an estate of just over $24 million.  Margaret V. Haggin used $500,000 of that amount to pay off the mortgage on 1 East 64^th Street still owed to Columbia.

Signs hang on the facade of the mansion prior to its demolition.  The Guggenheim house, next door, has already been demolished and construction of the apartment building begun -- photograph from the collection of the New York Public Library

The mansion, along with the William Guggenheim house at 833 Fifth Avenue and the Frank Jay Gould mansion at 834 Fifth Avenue, would be demolished in 1930 to make way for the gargantuan apartment building designed by Rosario Candela.  Candela’s 16-story building survives today.
 

photo http://www.cityrealty.com/graphics/photos/f/fif834.01b.photo.jpg

many thanks to reader Dennis Beeghly for suggesting this post

Greg Wyatt's Peace Fountain -- 1047 Amsterdam Ave

The Cathedral of St. John the Divine provides a fitting background for the Peace Fountain -- photo by Alice Lum

When Episcopalian Bishop Henry Codman Potter began considering a New York City cathedral in 1887, he wanted one that would outshine the magnificent Roman Catholic St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Fifth Avenue.  Construction on the mammoth structure was begun five years later to designs by Heins and LaFarge.  Nearly a century later, in 1985, the massive Cathedral Church of Saint John: The Great Divine in the City and Diocese of New York was still not completed.

By now the work-in-progress was tied with Liverpool Cathedral for boasting rights as the largest Anglican cathedral and church, and was considered the fourth largest Christian church structure in the world.  The Cathedral of St. John the Divine had established a reputation as an active supporter of the arts and Greg Wyatt, who had graduated from Columbia College and attended the National Academy of Design, had been named sculptor-in-residence.

Now one of Wyatt’s most complex and interesting works would be unveiled in the rolling grounds of the Cathedral.  The Peace Fountain—perhaps more sculpture than fountain—is a 40-foot bronze depiction of the triumph of Good over Evil.  Wyatt combined on a host of allegorical, Biblical and symbolic images into his remarkable work.

The decapitated head of Satan hangs upside down from the crab's claw -- photo by Alice Lum

Central to the sculpture and message is the Archangel Michael with outspread wings and a down-thrusting sword.  He stands upon a gigantic, flat-shelled crab that represented the origin of life in the sea.  Satan’s defeated body lies on the crab’s spiky shell and his dismembered head dangles from a claw.

Lightness and Darkness—opposing forces reconciled by God through peace--are symbolized by the sun and moon, back-to-back; and nine giraffes, among the gentler of Earth’s creatures spiral downward.  Nestled by the sun disk, the Isaiah’s Biblical icons of peace, the lion and the lamb, lay together.  The entire work sits upon a twisted base, representative a of DNA strand.

A plaque explains “When the fountain operates, four courses of water cascade down the freedom pedestal into a maelstrom evoking the primordial chaos of Earth.  Foursquare around the base, flames of freedom rise in witness to the future.”

When running, water swirls down the helix and is forced into eddies around the flames, creating "chaos," before running into the surrounding pool.  photo by Alice Lum

But before the Peace Fountain could be completed, peace had to be made on the Cathedral grounds.  On May 9, 1985 the statue of Michael with his 17-foot wingspan sat on a flatbed truck in preparation for the “topping off” ceremony.  As workers began hoisting the 10,000-pound figure, an angry group of upwards of 30 young people halted the work.  The unemployed protestors demanded work.

“If we don’t work, nobody works!” they chanted.  A spokesman said the group wanted jobs on the site.  In the meantime, the five-ton sculpture swayed overhead from a crane.

It was an ironic protest, considering that the cathedral corporation was highly involved in job placement for the unemployed in the neighborhood.  But the group agreed to disperse after Canon Lloyd S. Casson and Wallace Mathai-Davis, Executive Vice President of the corporation, guaranteed they would provide a job for at least one of the laborers.

The protestors left and the three-hour process of topping off the fountain resumed.

On May 18, 1985, on the 200^th anniversary of the Episcopal Diocese of New York, the fountain was dedicated.  Following the impressive anniversary service within the Cathedral, the Bishop led the group of nearly 1,300 worshipers to the Great Lawn for its blessing and dedication.

There was a rather significant complication--water for the fountain.  In 1985 New York City was suffering through a devastating drought.  By New York City mandate, restaurants served water only when customers requested it, automobiles and taxicabs went unwashed, and public fountains were shut off.  The church got a one-day reprieve.

“Because of the dedication,” reported The New York Times, church officials were able to gain a one-day variance from New York City’s water restrictions, which bar public fountains from operation.”

Plaques, like this one to Thoreau, honor the efforts of peace workers through quotations.  photo by Alice Lum

Around the base of the pool were plaques inscribed with images and quotations of renowned promoters of peace; among them Socrates, Alfred Einstein, Mahatma Gandhi, and John Lennon.  There was also a series of small animal sculpture cast in bronze and fashioned by elementary grade students from the New York City and surrounding area public, private and parochial schools (as well as a few from Bermuda, Europe and Colorado).  The group of charming animals, chose during a five-year series of competitions is known as the Children’s Sculpture Garden.

Because of its location on Amsterdam Avenue far north of Midtown, many visitors miss Wyatt’s captivating fountain.  It is worth, however, a special trip.  For as J. W. Ocker said in his The New York Grimpendium: A Guide to Macabre and Ghastly Sites in New York State, “It doesn’t always shoot water, but it’s always eye-magnetic.”

photo by Alice Lum