The Lost Adolph Lewisohn Mansion - 9 West 57th Street

The original appearance of the 1870 house was similar to the houses on either side..  The Architectural Record, July 1900 (copyright expired)

On March 29, 1895 Ernest Rudolph Gunther hosted what The New York Times described as "a very pretty 'stage dinner.'"  The guest of honor was Russian Prince Lubecki.  The newspaper added, "Covers were laid for ten persons."

Gunther's four-story brownstone rowhouse at No. 9 West 57th Street was well-known for such entertainments.  The New York Tribune remarked that same year that Gunther was "a clever conversationalist and extremely popular among club men and the people who comprise what is known as the best society in New York.  An invitation to one of the frequent musicales, given at his residence, is prized very highly by members of the New York smart set."

The house was new when Gunther's father, German-born furrier William H. Gunther, purchased it for $100,000 in 1875.  The price--nearly $2 million today--and the 30-foot width reflected the exclusivity of the neighborhood, just steps from Fifth Avenue.  Following the senior Gunther's death, the family sold the house in March 1897 for $165,000.

Seven months later, on October 24, the New York Journal and Advertiser reported that Adolph Lewisohn had filed plans "for alterations costing $50,000" to the house.  The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide added more details, noting that the architects would be Brunner & Tryon and the work would include "extensive interior and exterior alterations, including new front."

The project was an early example of the sweeping remakes of outdated homes in fashionable neighborhoods.  The architects removed the stoop and facade, lowering the entrance to two steps above the sidewalk.   Drab brownstone was replaced by white limestone and the matronly 1870's personality gave way to modern French exuberance.

The columned entrance portico supported a one-story faceted bay which morphed into a blustraded balcony at the third floor, accessed by sets of French doors.  Another stone balcony graced the third floor.   A stone balustrade perched above the bracketed cornice.

The interiors of the Lewisohn home were decorated by well-known artists.  Edwin H. Blashfield painted the ceiling of the music room with a fresco entitled "Music," as well as other decorations; and he painted "Dance" in a hallway panel.  Joseph Lauber's "Psyche at the Spring" adorned a window panel.

Like William Gunther, Adolph Lewisohn was born in Germany.   Three years after his father's death in 1872 he came to New York City at the age of 16 to assist his brothers in their mercantile business, Adolph Lewisohn & Son.  He quickly became the moving force in the operation.

Not long after arriving in America he had met Thomas Edison.  The meeting led to Lewisohn's realization that the conductive properties of copper would make it vital in electrifying the country.  The Lewisohn brothers were among the first investors in western copper mines.

On June 26, 1878 Adolph married Emma Cahn.  The couple had four children, Clara, Adele, Sam and Julius.  By the time he purchased the former Gunther house Lewisohn had branched into banking as well, and had amassed a vast fortune which enabled him to indulge his love of the arts.  He filled the residence with a notable collection of paintings (his favorites being of the Barbizon School and later Impressionist works) and modern sculptures.  The Lewisohn were ardent patrons of the musical arts, as well, and were important supporters of facilities like the Metropolitan Opera.

The renovations to the 57th Street mansion were completed just in time for a major event.  On April 26, 1899 The New York Times reported "Alfred Rossin and Miss Clara Lewisohn were married yesterday afternoon at the newly completed residence of the bride's father, 9 West Fifty-seventh Street, one of the most beautiful of New York's newer houses."

The bride's parents spent lavishly on the floral decorations.  "The ceremony was performed in the drawing room, beneath a canopy formed of white roses.  Garlands of the same flowers, pink in color, festooned the windows, mantel, and doorways.  The music and dining rooms were gay with American Beauty roses.  Palms were plentifully used in the decorations."

The Lewisohns were well known for their generous philanthropies.  On October 16, 1904, for instance, the directors of the Hebrew Sheltering Guardian Orphan Asylum announced that Adolph had contributed $25,000 to its building fund.  The New-York Tribune added, "The Lewisohn family has been liberal in contributions to the asylum, Adolph Lewisohn having given previously $15,000."

Three years later, on August 11, 1907, the newspaper noted "although  he has been exceedingly liberal in his donations to other charitable and education institutions, the Sheltering Guardian Society is said to be his pet.  He contributed $140,000 to the Hebrew Technical School for Girls, where children of poor people may learn useful trades and fit themselves to earn a living."

By the time of the article he had also given $50,000 to the Jewish Protectory, erected the chapel for the National Jewish Hospital for Consumptives in Denver, and built a "large annex to the Jewish hospital at Hamburg, Germany, where Mr. Lewisohn was born." He he also had completed a complex of free housing in Hamburg for the needy, donated a chemical laboratory to Dartmouth College, the Pathological Building to Mount Sinai Hospital, and the School of Mines Building to Columbia.

The Lewisohns became unwitting participants in a scam in 1906.  The first indication of the scheme came early on the morning of February 9 when the butler answered the servants' bell.  He opened the door to what The New York Times described as "a shabbily dressed young woman."  She told him, "I've come to work.  Mr. Lewisohn has engaged me as cook."

The butler checked, then informed the woman she was mistaken.  Ten minutes later another woman appeared, then another.  Before noon at least 30 would-be cooks had rung the bell.  Lewisohn learned of the parade of women appearing at the servants' entrance and complained to the police.

An investigation quickly uncovered the swindle by a "Mrs. White."  The Times explained "Mrs. White's game is to call upon women advertisers for situations and tell them that they are to be employed by some well-to-do person.  Mrs. White then finds that she has lost her pocketbook and needs $10 temporarily, of course.  In many cases the money was paid."

In 1906 architects Coutler & Westhoff were commissioned to design Lewisohns' 20-bedroom summer home.  The following year, on October 6, 1907, the New-York Tribune reported "The new week-end home of Adolph Lewisohn on his 315-acre farm at Ardsley, N.Y., is rapidly nearing completion, and when all the plans have been carried out it will probably be one of the show places of that part of the country."

Landscape architect James L. Greenleaf designed the grounds, which included greenhouses, tennis courts, and a private golf course.  The Tribune wrote "Mr. Lewisohn's family will have an excellent attraction for week-end parties and an objective point for automobile trips."

Press coverage of the Lewisohn family was routinely positive, most often reporting on generous gifts.  An notable exception to that came about in the summer of 1908.  On August 11 the wife of mechanical engineer James W. Ellis was standing with her children on a street corner in Perth Amboy, New Jersey when Lewisohn's chauffeur, James Pettit, lost control of the limousine.

The "unmanageable" vehicle, as described by The Sun, ran into the family.  The newspaper reported that "Mr. Ellis's daughter had her leg broken and the other members of the family were bruised."   On December 1 a summons was served on Lewisohn in his Broadway office "to recover $107,000 damages."    Included in that amount was $10,000 "for the loss of his wife's services during the time she was recovering from the accident."

from the collection of the New York Public Library

In March 1913 The New York Times devoted nearly an entire page to the Lewisohn collections.  The article said in part "Among notable American collectors of literary and artistic treasures is Adolph Lewisohn, whose city mansion, 9 West Fifty-seventh Street, and country home at Ardsley contain many rare books, manuscripts, and pictures, the result of their owners' activities as a collector during the past twenty or more years.  On every floor of Mr. Lewisohn's urban residence the art lover will find objects that will surely hold his or her interest."

The article listed rare volumes, like the "beautifully illuminated Persian manuscript of seventy-three folio leaves entitles 'Marvels of the World'" with its more than 50 miniatures, and the 1466 volume of Cicero's Offices.  Other books pointed out included a first edition of Milton's Paradise Lost, a third folio Shakespeare, and the 17th century works of Ben Jonson.

While public attention tended to focus on Adolph, Emma was active in philanthropic work as well.  Among her favorite causes was the Penny Lunch program in public schools.  Underprivileged children were provided with wholesome, hot lunches for one cent; the actual cost of the meals coming from donations from people like Emma.

By now the once-exclusive neighborhood around No. 9 West 57th Street was becoming increasingly commercial.  As they had done nearly two decades earlier, in January 1915 the Lewisohns commissioned mansion architect C. P. H. Gilbert to renovate a brownstone house at No. 881 Fifth Avenue into a modern mansion.  But before their new home was ready, Emma died at their Ardsley estate on July 28, 1916 at the age of 60.  She had been ill for several months.

In what may have been a gesture to his wife's concern for feeding the poor, Lewisohn provided the 57th Street mansion for a meeting of women on March 5, 1917.  According to The Times, "Sarah Goldstein and other Brownsville women and East Side women will tell what they suffer from the high cost of food."

It would be the last event in the mansion as a private home.  The following month Lewisohn leased it for 21 years to Tappe, Inc. milliners.  The Sun reported on May 1 "The building is to be completely changed.  A new facade will be built and the interior altered to suit the needs of the tenant."

In its June 1917 edition, Millinery Trade Review reported that "Tappe has outgrown its present quarters to such an extent that a removal to the former residence of Adolph Lewisohn has been necessitated, and will be accomplished in the near future...An entirely new entrance is to replace the present one, in the style of the Early Italian Directoire, and the interior arrangements will display the Early Victorian characteristics."

The dapper Herman Patrick Tappe was considered on par with Henri Bendel  Millinery Trade Review, June 1917 (copyright expired)

Before Herman Patrick Tappe set his contractors loose on remodeling the interiors, he gave his employees "a very noteworthy ball" in the mansion.   His female workers dressed in 1830's gowns and officers from a French warship anchored in the Hudson River were invited for "added zest to the affair."

Interestingly, while Adolph Lewisohn retained ownership of what was now called "the Tappe Building," he began buying up other properties on his former block as investment.   On January 11, 1919 the Record & Guide reported he had purchased the two houses at Nos. 27 and 29 West 59th Street, adding "he already owns 10 and 12 West 57th street, known as the 'Bendel Building," as well as No. 31 West 57th Street and, of course, his own former mansion.

Like his landlord, Herman Tappe was an avid art collector.  His second floor apartment at No. 555 Madison Avenue was described by The New York Times as being "furnished in Victorian style with hundreds of valuable objects of art" including "oil paintings of great value, tapestries and needle-point lace curtains."  When fire broke out on the first floor of that building on November 7, 1927, Tappe "had some anxious moments."  Among the belongings he personally carried out to the street was a Rembrandt valued at $150,000.

Tappe's upscale shop was still at No. 9 West 57th Street at the time, but he would soon be gone.  In 1930 it was home to the art gallery of Julius H. Weitzner.  He dealt in masterworks like the self portrait of Spanish artist Francisco Goya, purchased by the Smith College Museum of Art in December that year.

It may have been the Great Depression that resulted in Weitzner's stay in the building to be short-lived.  For whatever reason it closed in 1933.  On April 13 The New York Times reported "With the assistance of Ed Wynn, Harry Herschfield and other stars of the theatre, Thrift House, a new venture in raising funds for relief work and other philanthropic activities, will be opened today at 9 West Fifty-seventh Street."  The store sold contributed items, both old and new, ranging from"wearing apparel, pins and bird cages to kitchen equipment and furniture."  The proceeds went to the Federation for the Support of Jewish Philanthropic Societies.

The Lewisohn family continued to buy properties along the 57th Street block.  Following its purchase of No. 42 in April 1946, The New York Times noted "The Lewisohns figured in many deals on Fifty-seventh Street which resulted in development of a shopping center there."  At the time of the article, No. 9 was being leased to the Pepsi-Cola Company.

The much altered mansion survived into the second half of the 20th century.  Finally billionaire Sheldon Solow commissioned architect Gordon Bunshaft of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill to design a skyscraper on a site engulfing the property.  Completed in 1974 the sloping, 50-story Solow Building is a landmark in its own right.

The 1865 Germania Building - 175 Broadway

At the end of the Civil War, thousands of working class New Yorkers returned home.  Construction of new buildings, which had ground to a near halt during the war, surged.  On May 17, 1867, The New York Times commented on "the extraordinary transforming" going on below Canal Street and said few "who have passed through the streets...can have failed to express astonishment."

The article pointed out the extravagant amounts owners were expending on the new structures.  "This change has been going on since early in 1865.  The vast fortunes accumulated during the war by down-town traders have here built themselves a lasting foundation, it is to be hoped, in iron, marble, and brown-stone."

Included in the article's long list of new structures was the Germania Fire Insurance Company building at 175 Broadway, commenced in May 1865 and completed just six months later.  The cost was placed at $40,000--around $621,000 today.

Organized on March 2, 1859, the Germania Fire Insurance Company catered to, for the most part, the German-speaking immigrants who were more comfortable doing business in their native language.  It was one of several organizations that served the German community, including the Germania Life Insurance Company and the Germania Bank.

Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide, June 4, 1898 (copyright expired)

The architect of the Germania Building, whose name has been lost. created a four-story office building in the up-to-the-minute French Second Empire style.  A stoop led to the first floor above the store space in the basement level.  Three bays wide, the structure featured the trappings of the new mid-Victorian style--elaborate Corinthian capitals, foliate brackets, and an eye-catching decorative balcony.  Urn-shaped finials graced the parapet which included the building's name and construction date.

While the main office of the Germania Fire Insurance Company was here, the firm continued to maintain a building on the Bowery in the German neighborhood known as Kleindeutschland.  Sharing the building with the insurance firm was the New York Underwriters' Agency.  It had been organized by four insurance companies, including Germania, to provide "the property owner one single policy in a combination of four companies."

Offices in the upper floors were leased out.  The rapid growth of railroads In the mid-1870's led to the formation of dozens of small freight lines.  On March 31, 1875, The New York Times laid out the various types of railroads--the "fast freight lines," the "trunk railways," and the "commission lines," for instance.  The article noted that at least two railroad offices were located at 175 Broadway--The Commercial Express and The International Line.

About that time a competitive tenant moved in--the Commerce Fire Insurance Company.  But the fledgling firm did not fare so well as its landlord.  On May 7, 1878, The New York Times reported that its directors "have been discussing and considering the advisability of closing up the business of the company."

In the spring of 1890, the Germania Fire Insurance Company left Broadway, selling its former headquarters to J. B. Lounsberry in May for $205,000 (nearly $7 million in today's dollars).   Lounsberry's tenants on the lower levels were the upscale Gotham Restaurant in the basement, the North River Insurance Company in the former Germania Fire Insurance space on the first floor, and gentlemen's tailors Tappen & Pierson on the second.  The jewelry district was encroaching into the neighborhood as evidenced by the Equitable Jewelry Company and the Silver Novelty Company on the third floor., and diamond dealers E. Karelson & Co. on the fourth.

At around 11:00 on Christmas Eve 1891 fire broke out in the building.  The New York Times reported that it "burned stubbornly for over an hour before it was subdued."  The top two floors were gutted and the tenants on the lower floors suffered damage from smoke, water, and falling plaster.  The Gotham, which The New York Times described as "an expensively-furnished restaurant," had about $2,000 in damages.  Damage to the building itself was estimated at $4,000.

In May 1898 the building was leased by the German-American Real Estate Title Guarantee Co.  In announcing the move, the Record & Guide opined, "This is an important move and one that real estate interests will appreciate."  The firm had operated from 34 Nassau Street, but had outgrown that space and "the management has though it advisable to get upon the thoroughfare of main business travel."

The German-American Real Estate title Guarantee Co. was a multi-service organization.  It not only examined and insured titles to properties, it supplied loans and mortgages.  Unfortunately, the Record & Guide's optimism for the firm did not hold true and in 1902 it declared bankruptcy.

In its place the Oriental Bank moved in temporarily, while it completed construction on its building across the street and the southeast corner of Broadway and John Street.  A variety of businesses took offices in the upper floors, including jewelry merchants, one of which was the W. F. Doll Manufacturing Company.

On Saturday evening, December 20, 1903, thieves broke into W. F. Doll's shop at around 6:00.  They broke open a showcase and made off with three dozen watches, four "watch bracelets," and about six watch fobs.  The value of the goods was about $500.  Newspapers reported "the police have no clue to the thieves."

Jewelry firms occupied the upper floors in the early years of the 20th century.  The stoop survived at the time of this photograph.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Another Saturday night theft happened on November 9, 1912 when four crooks broke into the Bennett Manufacturing Company.  This time the haul was enormous--the jewelry and silverware they took was valued at $10,000, more than a quarter of a million dollars today.  Police were fairly certain it was committed by the same gang who had pulled off two large diamond burglaries on Maiden Lane.  One of the men left behind a bottle which held a distinct fingerprint--a relatively new form of forensic evidence.

A week later detectives made two simultaneous raids on apartments in the Bronx and arrested the suspected gang.   Theirs was no small operation.  Police found burglars' tools, an "outfit for tapping telegraph and telephone wires," a wireless radio apparatus, two revolvers, and check and date stamps.  The New York Times reported "Inspector Fauor took the fingerprints of the four men and compared them with the marks on a bottle which was found after the burglary at the Bennett Manufacturing plant.  The impression on the bottle, he said, tallied with the print of the index finger of 'Little" Alter's right hand."

By the time of the latest burglary, 175 Broadway had been owned by John G. Wendel for years.  He operated his real estate office from the building, as well.  A near hermit, he lived with his unmarried daughters in a mansion at the corner of Fifth Avenue and 39th Street, constructed in 1856.  He had amassed an extraordinary amount of Manhattan real estate and, subsequently, a massive fortune.  But his eccentric and reclusive ways made him "a curious and impressive figure," according to one newspaper.

When he died in December 1914, leaving and estate of some $60 million, The New York Times said he was often dismissed as "an old fogy, a stand-patter, a foe of progress."  It recounted the often-told story of his refusing a $1 million offer on the garden lot next to his outdated mansion.  He needed it, he said, "for his dog."

Wendel's daughters were no less eccentric.  They wore old clothes, hung their laundry in the garden, and, according to The New York Times two months after their father's death, “The sisters never ride in a street car and never in their lives have they been in an automobile.  They never shop in the fashionable district, for things are too expensive there.  They buy all their groceries and supplies in the inexpensive little shops over on Sixth Avenue and make their purchases personally, seldom letting them be delivered but carrying them home themselves and paying for them with cash.  They are quick to see bargains and watch for them like the poorest housewife.”

In 1923 No. 175 (left) still retained its rooftop finials, but a show window now took the place of the stoop and former first floor.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The Wendel Estate continued to manage its vast real estate holdings from 175 Broadway.  Georgia Wendel was now the owner of record of the property.

Several tenants in the building encountered problems in 1929.  Attorney Stanley Shirk (a distant relative of the Wendel family) met a client, Josiah H. Scott, at the pier on May 6 as the ocean liner California docked.  Shirk stood by while customs officials checked Scott's bags, then was "outraged" when a bottle of liquor was confiscated.

Shirk fired off a letter to the Secretary of the Treasury, Andrew Mellon, which said in part "Because of his illness his physician had prescribed liquor and Mr. Scott had the prescription filled in California...I hereby respectfully request that you instruct your subordinates to return this medicinal liquor without delay."

It turned out that getting the bottle back was not so simple.  The Assistant Collector of the Port explained Scott would have to get a permit for the liquor from his local Prohibition Director and present that to the authorities in order for it to be released.

Another tenant in the sights of Customs officials that year was diamond broker Sidney Sherman.  On the night of September 18 Charles Eechleirs arrived at Sherman's home on  Ocean Parkway in Brooklyn.  Why the 44-year old diamond dealer would have business with an employee of the Red Star liner Belgenland was explained when Customs agents raided the house.

In Eechleirs's shoe were $12,000 worth of unset, smuggled gems.  The agents had focused in on Eechleirs after a long investigation, and followed him to the Sherman home.  Not only were both men arrested, but the following morning agents went to 175 Broadway and arrested Sherman's 26-year old stenographer, Nina Silverstein.  All three were charged with "conspiracy to violate the tariff and customs laws."

Nothing was out of the ordinary in the second floor jewelry store of Bennett Brothers two months later on December 19,   Gail and Herbert Bennett's dozen employees were at work at 7:00 when the owners did their customary check of the stock.  Everything was in place as it should have been.

But then, when they checked again at 9:30, a tray of rings was missing from a showcase.  The New York Times reported "During the two and a half hours in which the tray must have been taken, customers were coming and going.   At all times there were eight employes on duty, and customers were in the store in groups of from six to eight."  The tray held 24 solitaire diamond rings, valued at $15,000.  Police were called, but "there seemed to be no clue to its disappearance."

Earlier that year, on January 18, Georgiana G. R. Wendel had died.  Calling the 79-year-old an "aged spinster," The New York Times reminded had reminded its readers that she and her sister, Ella, "lived in seclusion" in the anachronistic mansion on Fifth Avenue.  Stanley Shirk announced that the control of the estate would be handed over to Ella.

It would be a short-lived arrangement, however.  Ella V. Von E. Wendel, "the last of her line," died in the old brick mansion in March 1931.  In reporting her death, The New York Times ran a sub-headline that read "Huge Realty Holdings Valued at $100,000,000 Are Left With No Kin to Claim Them."

The mansion had slowly been closed up, room by room, over the years.  The newspaper said "When Ella died, she had been using only her bedroom and the dining room, wandering only occasionally into a big front room on the top floor, where she and her five sisters had once learned the reading, writing and arithmetic which their father thought was the sufficient education of a young woman at the time of the Civil War."

The massive real estate holdings, including 175 Broadway, passed to the Wendel Foundation, with offices in No. 175.  Ella's personal fortune of more than $36 million, went mostly to "public bequests."

No. 175 Broadway was home at the time to Patrick Francis Murphy's Mark Cross leather goods store.  The Rosenstein Brothers operated their fabrics business from an upper floor.  They were honored in 1933 by supplying the silk for gown Eleanor Roosevelt wore to the Inaugural Ball in Washington.

In the 1930's  the low block of 19th century buildings survived among towering modern structures.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

But as the decade wore on, a far different set of tenants would occupy the aging cast iron building.  It was home by 1939 to the socialist group, the Workmen's Circle, "a national labor and fraternal organization."  Within the decade the Yiddish Writers Union had moved in.   A letter to its president, Dr. Louis Herdin, arrived on March 22, 1945 from President Franklin Roosevelt.   The president lauded the standards of the Yiddish press, saying it had fostered and strengthened "the ideals of freedom and democracy for which we fight today."

As the end of the 20th century neared, 175 Broadway had become an unlikely Victorian survivor in a neighborhood filled with soaring skyscrapers.  In 1997 it was joined internally with No. 177 and the two lower floors were seriously vandalized with a modern storefront engulfing both properties.

The window glass of the upper floors have been painted to match the facade and the decorative finials above the parapet were lost long ago.  But the beleaguered beauty of the structure still peers down on Broadway after more than a century and a half.

photographs by the author

A French Facelift - 17 East 83rd Street

Edward Livingston entrusted his contractor, John H. James, with two $1,200 checks on November 7, 1895.  James, who lived in Cornwall, New York, was doing work for him and told Livingston that he was staying with "Mrs. Woods" at No. 17 East 83rd Street.  James left with the checks--worth nearly $75,000 today--and headed for the Bank of America.  That was the last time he was seen.

On November 11 The New York Times reported "The brownstone residence at 17 East Eighty-third Street was closed when a reporter called there yesterday, and it appeared as if it were not occupied.  A card showing that it is for rent is displayed.  A ring at the bell brought two servants from the basement.  They said that Mrs. Woods had gone to Cornwall."

The home of the mysterious Mrs. Woods was identical to others on the north side of 83rd Street between Fifth and Madison Avenues.   Two bays wide, it was faced in brownstone.  A stone stoop rose above the high English basement.   Molded architrave frames embraced the openings of the upper stories and a handsome bracketed cornice completed the design.

Following the turn of the century No. 17 was owned by David Lydig, who used it as an investment property.  His fascinating tenant was attorney Abram Jesse Dittenhoefer.  Born in Charleston, South Carolina to Jewish-German immigrants Isaac and Babette Dittenhoefer in 1837, he had moved to New York prior to the Civil War.  He was now a member in the firm of Dittenhoefer & Gerber.  His wife, the former Sophie Englehardt, died in 1900.  The couple had had five children, Estelle, Belle, Edith, Blanche and Irving.

Abram J. Dittenhoefer - original source unknown

Living with her father was Estelle, who had never married.  The 50-year old spinster was a member of the Academy of Political Science in the City of New York in 1912.  Her interests in things political was understandable, given her father's background.

Abram Dittenhoefer first garnered attention during the Civil War.  A Jewish Republican leader and staunch abolitionist, he lived on West 34th Street and Eighth Avenue and was instrumental in directing Abraham Lincoln's presidential campaigns.  He first met Lincoln on the night of February 27, 1860 after the candidate's famous speech at Cooper Union.

When the Draft Riots broke out in 1863.   On July 12 a mob formed in front of the house. shouting "Down with the abolitionists" and "Death to Dittenhoefer."  According to Dittenhoefer years later, a messenger who was spirited out of the house ran to the police.  Their "active club work" managed to dispel the crowd.

Dittenhoefer worked closely with Lincoln and the two men became friends.  He described the President in a letter to Isaac Markens which said in part "While an air of melancholy seemed always to suffuse his features, I always regarded President Lincoln as the most genial of men."  He later said, "He was a very awkward man, but after he began to talk, he was awkwardness deified."

Lincoln was not the only President whose career was boosted by Dittenhoefer.  In 1880 James A. Roosevelt brought his nephew, Theodore Roosevelt, to Dittenhoefer's office "and said that the young man desired to embark upon a political career," according to The Sun years later.

"Mr. Dittenhoefer said he was interested in young Roosevelt and promised to help him along in the politics of the Twenty-first Assembly district.  A little later Theodore Roosevelt got his first nomination and went to the Assembly after a comparatively featureless campaign."

In 1913 David Lydig renewed Dittenhoefer's lease for another 10 years.  That same year he commissioned architect John H. O'Rourke to do minor renovations to the house, amounting to $700.

Dittenhoefer published his highly popular How We Elected Lincoln: Personal Recollections in 1916.  The following year on March 17 his home was the scene of a brilliant reception in honor of his 80th birthday.  The Emanu-El Review reported "The revered celebrant received more than two hundred letters and telegrams of congratulations, as well as numerous gifts and other attentions."

On the night of February 23, 1919 Abram J. Dittenhoefer suffered a fatal cerebral hemorrhage in the house.  The Sun not only called him the "last surviving elector of President Lincoln," but "one of the best known authorities on international copyright law."

The following year the estate of David Lydig sold No. 17 to real estate operator James W. Bulmer for $55,000--about $673,000 in today's dollars.  Bulmer was manager and a director in the real estate office of Harris & Vaughan.  The New-York Tribune reported on February 10, 1920 that the firm planned to make "extensive alterations into American basement."

The "American basement" plan had replaced the English basement with its high stoop years earlier.  While the stoop was removed and the entrance lowered, the completed renovations did not change the floor levels.  The doorway was now at the former basement level, several steps below the sidewalk, and the original entrance was only slightly disguised as a baluster-fronted window.  Fussy French-style cartouches and a swan neck pediment above the doorway gave the old rowhouse a Beaux Arts touch.

The original appearance of the upper floors can be seen in No. 17's next door neighbor.

The renovated house became home to heiress Llewellyn S. Parsons.  The daughter of Charles and Sarah Johnson Shepley Parsons, Llewellyn never married.   While the house appears to have been rarely the scene of entertainments, Llewellyn's name (always reported as "Miss") regularly appeared in society columns.  Her summer home was in Kennebunk, Maine.  Following her death at the age of 81 on September 27, 1956 she was buried in the Hope Cemetery there.

Within months of Llewellyn's death No. 17 was converted to apartments--a duplex on former parlor and second floors and two apartments on each of the top two.  The ground floor became the Aaron Furman Gallery.  Among first exhibitions here, in October 1957, was of "various interpretations of animal forms by pre-Columbian, African and ancient Chinese artists," according to The Times.  The newspaper said "It is the kind of show that should be seen piece by piece rather than style by style."

Change came to No. 17 once again in 2003 when it was re-converted to a single family home.  It was the scene of a "major gift dinner" hosted by Louis and Patrice Friedman on November 4, 2010 for Stanford University alumni.

The Library paneling appears to be original.  photo via 6sqft

The house was back on the market in 2015 with an asking price of $24.5 million.  While decades of renovations eliminated much of the 1920 interiors (and certainly nearly nothing of the original 1870's detailing remains), some rooms survive surprisingly intact.  And outside little has changed since James Bulmer gave the mundane brownstone a new French personality.

photographs by the author

The 1897 Rawitser Building - 380-384 Canal Street

As the 19th century drew to a close, the architectural firm of Brunner & Tryon was busy designing commercial structures throughout the city.  On August 20, 1897 they filed plans for a six-story "brick store and loft" at the southeast corner of Canal Street and West Broadway.  The description gave little hint of the striking structure to come.

Developers S. & H. Rawitser may been somewhat cost conscious, for the Rawitser Building would be almost entirely clad in brick--a cheaper alternative to stone.  Nevertheless, the large structure, which occupies a 75 x 100 foot lot, cost $100,000 to construct, more than $3 million today.

Brunner & Tryon chamfered the corner, allowing for a prominent storefront entrance crowned with a round opening surrounded by exuberant carvings.  Three identical entrances were interspersed along West Broadway on and another on Canal Street.   Cast iron show windows between the banded limestone piers of the ground floor flooded the retail space with natural light.

The upper floors, divided into three sections by prominent cornices, were faced in buff brick which mimicked the banded stone of the ground floor.  The fifth and sixth floors exploded in Beaux Arts gusto with frothy carved decorations.  Arched pediments interrupted the straight line of the fifth floor cornice, which dripped lions' heads, blind roundels, and flowers down the facade.   The round windows above the entrances were mimicked at the sixth floor, uniting the overall design.

Horse-drawn vehicles fill the streets in front of the newly-completed building. Architectural League Catalogue, 1898 (copyright expired)  

The building filled with a surprising array of tenants, including window shade manufacturer Richard J. Cullen, here in 1899.  His advertisements suggested his shade for use by builders and architects for "estates, hotels, apartment houses and office buildings."

Before the turn of the century, The International Arithmachine Co. of Chicago opened its New York office in the building.  The firm manufactured a single, astounding product--an early example of the hand-held calculator.  The company would remain in the building at least through 1903.

from Meyer Brothers Druggist magazine, December 1900 (copyright expired)

The early years of the 20th century saw, among other tenants, an influx of high-end pen manufacturers and sellers.  George W. Heath & Co. advertised its Masonic-themed pen in 1907.  Customers could order "emblems of all the leading fraternal societies," which were "a beautiful combination of gold and enamel."  The pricey pens retailed for $4--about $110 today.

Other tenants, too, dealt with gold and gems.  S. L. Van Wezel employed 61 men in his diamond cutting establishment in 1913.  At the same time Isidore Kottle, whose shop turned out gold and silver umbrella and cane handles, had 20 men and one boy on its payroll.

State factory inspectors recorded that Van Wezel's huge workforce worked 62 hours per week in 1913.  advertisement from The Sun, May 16, 1915 (copyright expired)

In 1916 two more pen makers moved in, the Liberty Pen Co., and the Commercial Pen Manufacturing Company.  Century metals Products Company took the top floor that year as well.

A far different sort of company was J. P. Gorman Co., which marketed its E-Z-Way "demountable wheel sets" for Ford motorcar owners in 1918.  A replacement for the standard Ford wheels, they were touted as much easier to change.  The Motor Age commented on the invention on September 5 and noted the set included "four complete wheel changes with inside flanges, extra Ford wheel, spare wheel carrier and socket wrench."

The Automobile Trade Directory, 1918 (copyright expired)

Making expensive pens required an inventory of  gold and silver, a tantalizing cache for thieves.  Late on the night of November 29, 1920 burglars climbed the rear fire escape and broke into the Liberty Fountain and Pen Company.  The Evening World dipped into the jargon of hoodlums to describe the crime.

"In a room near the office in front of the building they drilled the big safe, put in the 'soup,' lugging a heavy filing cabinet from the offices and using it as a 'blanket' to deaden the noise and force of the explosion.  The explosion, however, did not do the full job and the burglars were compelled to drill a bigger hole and finally tear the door off with a 'drag.'"

Ignoring the silver and the cash in the safe, the crooks loaded $1,800 in gold bullion into their bags.  They were unable to crack the "burglar-proof receptacle" within the safe, despite numerous attempts.  "This receptacle contained $6,800 worth of gold, used in the manufacture of pens," said The Evening World on December 2.  Nonetheless, the heist netted the robbers about $22,000 worth of bullion in today's dollars.

The diverse tenant list was exemplified by the Parr-Loichot Engine Corp., whose offices were in the building at the same time.  The firm dealt in motor boat engines--about as different from gold fountain pens as a product could be.

By the early 1940s Henry C. Roberts had opened Roberts Art Gallery and bookstore on the ground floor.  Far south of the established gallery district of Fifth and Madison Avenues, it presaged the numerous galleries that would engulf the Tribeca district half a century later.

In October 1946 Roberts opened a permanent display of modern American art that included promising amateurs.  The New York Times reported on October 12 it encompassed "the remaining paintings of the Federal Art Projects; wood sculpture by Nicholas Mocharniuk; American genre paintings by Harry Roseland; original drawings of GI art, from Yank Magazine, and water-colors by Carl Benton Compton."

About two decades earlier Roberts had stumbled across a bust of Abraham Lincoln in a Salvation Army storeroom.  He paid $5 for the piece, and then began studying the president and collecting Linconiana.  As it turned out, the bust was the first ever made of Lincoln, executed by Leonard W. Volk in 1860 from several live sittings.

In 1860 Volk posed with his unfinished bust.  original source unkown

Roberts added to his collection with an 1849 campaign photograph.  An inscription on the back said it was presented to Lincoln by Pole Lewis on November 6, 1860, the day he was elected to the presidency.  Roberts purchased it following the owner's death in 1937 for $20.

On July 28, 1947 Roberts put his entire Lincoln collection on display in the gallery.  Along with the exceedingly rare bust and photograph was a copy of Lincoln's death mask; a plaster cast of his right hand, made before his presidency; and engravings and lithographs created during his term in office.

The New York Times wrote an article about the opening of the exhibition, giving special attention to the bust and printing a photograph of it.  It drew nation-wide attention, especially since Roberts mentioned in the article that he would eventually like to donate the collection to a national institution.

Letters from across the country arrived at the Canal Street gallery and bookstore.  Then, in February 1949. one arrived from Frank T. Gartside, assistant superintendent of the National Park Service.  In it he said his department "would be happy to receive the bust to be placed in the Lincoln Museum housed in the Ford Theatre."  It was the sort of place Roberts had envisioned for the item and he donated it--valued at about $50,000 at the time--to the museum.

The colorful Henry C. Roberts was interested as well in other-worldly things.  He sometimes gave lectures on the 16th century seer Nostradamus and once explained "My aim in life is to help people help themselves by developing their psychic powers.  I've got extra-sensory perception developed to a very high degree.  I found these powers through studying Nostradamus.  Some people say I am Nostradamus Redivivus, which means Nostradamus revived."  In 1947 he published The Complete Prophecies of Nostradamus.

Roberts's unusual personality drew a reporter from The Times to his shop in 1949.  He commented "in the dimmest corner of an age-haunted room Mr. Roberts sat at a battered desk, doddling with a quill pen.  The grudging glow of a brass lamp picked out a bronze skull on the desk."

Roberts pointed to a hanging planter of ivy and said "I can look at that bowl and see things."  His wife was less impressed than was the reporter.  "See if you see a steak.  You didn't eat all day," she retorted.

In 1951 Roberts announced he would be retiring.  The New York Times commented "The rambling place was a sort of combination bookstore and curiosity shop.  Its proprietor himself sometimes seemed uncertain of all it contained."  No doubt the most interesting character to lease space in the building's history, Roberts died in the Veterans Administration Hospital in Brooklyn on January 24, 1966 at the age of 76.

In 1980 the space where Roberts had operated his gallery and bookstore was transformed into a restaurant-bar.  For a decade it was home to Smoke Stacks Lightnin' bar which Moira Hodgson of The New York Times called "a restful place for a late-afternoon drink" in 1981.  She added "It is popular among artists who can no longer afford to live in SoHo and have moved down to TriBeCa."

In 1990 the space became Tsubaki House, a jazz-oriented cabaret.  Today the entire ground floor is vacant, a condition that could cause locals and preservationists trepidation.

Because the Rawitser Building sits outside the Tribeca Historic District, its intact facade--including the amazingly surviving storefront level--is unprotected.  Owners or tenants have no restrictions on altering the building and potentially vandalizing Brunner & Tryon's striking 1897 building.

photographs by the author

Faded Elegance - 17 West 27th Street

The decade before the outbreak of Civil War saw the neighborhood surrounding Madison Square fill with handsome brick-faced homes.  Among the earliest along the block of West 27th Street, between Fifth Avenue and Broadway was No. 17--a 25-foot wide townhouse in the recent Anglo-Italianate style.

The architectural style did away with the high stone stoop so expected in most rowhouses of the period.  Instead, the entrance was placed nearly at sidewalk level.  While the architect sat the window sills on small stone brackets, he cleverly executed the lintels in brick.  Given the upscale tenor of the neighborhood and the commodious size of the residence, this was almost surely a design choice and not a cost-savings step.

It does not appear that the house was ever a private home.   An advertisement on October 9, 1854 announced "No. 17 West Twenty-Seventh street, (One door west of Broadway,) has recently been opened, as a first class boarding house, by a lady who has many years experience in the business.  Rooms, single or in suites, to let, with full or partial board."

Another ad two months later noted "Gentlemen with their families or single gentlemen, can obtain good board and a pleasant home at 17 West Twenty-seventh street.  House contains all the modern improvements."

Bachelors of means depended heavily on "first-class" boarding houses.  Not only would their reputations be secure, but they were provided with home-cooked meals.  No. 17 was the sort of place where a man like the Rev. T. E. Skinner would feel at ease.

Skinner graduated from the Union Theological Seminary on May 9, 1854.  He apparently moved into the 27th Street boarding house soon after.  His comfortable financial situation was evidenced when he lost an unopened letter in October the following year.

Skinner offered a reward for return of the envelope, saying it had been lost "in Broadway, between Eighteenth and Nineteenth streets" and "probably contained a draft or certificate of deposit for one thousand dollars, to my order."  That amount would equal nearly $30,000 today.  He gave a slightly veiled warning to anyone who might consider cashing the note.  "The community are cautioned against receiving the draft or certificate without my endorsement."

The reverend was not the only boarder who had trouble holding on to things.  On October 8, 1859 an unnamed tenant offered a $1 reward for the return of a "pair of gold spectacles in a black moracco case" which he lost on 21st Street near Third Avenue.   And On May 15, 1863 an advertisement in The New York Herald note "Lost--An umbrella, in Broadway, marked Headly.  If returned to 17 West Twenty-seventh street the finder will be properly rewarded."

At the time of the lost umbrella No. 17 was owned and operated by Henry M. Schieffelin, who owned other property, including the large plot next door at the corner of Broadway.   Like all decorous boarding houses, No. 17 had rules and dinner here was served promptly at 6:00.  And like many other proprietors of such homes, the Schieffelins were rigid regarding their staff--including even their religion.  When they were looking for a new cook in 1855 they limited the candidates to "a Protestant."  The job description included "and to do a part of the washing and ironing."

In the spring of 1867 Henry Schieffelin updated No. 17 by redecorating and replacing the dated furnishings.  On Monday, April 22 that year an auction of the costly trapping which had been top of the line in the 1850's and '60's was held.   The auction announcement gave a clue to the lavish surroundings in which the boarders had lived.   Included were "rosewood parlor suits, in brocatel; rosewood marble top centre table, gilt frame mirrors, window curtains, velvet and Brussels carpets; rosewood, black walnut and mahogany bedsteads, bureaus, washstands, chairs."

Twelve days before the auction boarder H. A. Brown despaired over the loss of his dog.  He advertised "$5 reward will be paid for the return of a sleek Black and Tan Terrier, thirteen inches, weighs thirteen pounds; answered to 'Dash.'  The dog strayed or was stolen April 10 9 A.M."

In 1880 Schieffelin constructed the five-story brick building at No. 1158 Broadway, abutting No. 17.   Five years later it became the Technical School for Carriage Draftsmen and Mechanics (up to this time part of the Metropolitan Museum of Art).  Schieffelin leased both properties to the Gilsey family on May 1, 1887.  The Gilseys were well-known hoteliers who operated several hotels in the city.  The rent on the two buildings was a staggering $30,000 per year, about $800,000 today.

Decades of avoiding press coverage came to an end for No. 17 when Thomas M. Turner leased the entire second floor in 1893.  He had first garnered attention two years earlier during a scurrilous and highly publicized divorced trial.  Turner was a wealthy cotton goods merchant and a member of the exclusive Union Club.  The Sun described him as "a distinguished-looking man with a big auburn moustache."

At that time he was married to Emily T. Barnes, "one of the loveliest women in Brooklyn," according to The Sun.  The couple moved to Yonkers where they were "very intimate" friends of James M. Bloomfield and his wife, the former Martha E. Oliver.

But the intimacy of the two couples morphed into a more personal relationship between Turner and Martha.  The Evening World reported "Turner and Mrs. Bloomfield were together to such an extent that gossips began to talk."  Then, on June 7, 1890 Martha left the house, telling her husband to wait for her.  She never returned.

Newspapers were highly critical of her desertion, The Sun saying, for instance, "Mrs. Bloomfield seemed to have lost her affection for her children...and we have evidence that she left Yonkers that evening with this man Turned, and has lived with him ever since."

James Bloomfield filed for divorce.  Before the trial began Emily Turner did the same and fled to Italy to avoid the publicity.  During the proceedings Martha and Turner sat side by side while damning testimonies told of their affair.  (Included was the story of the couple's trip to the Bershire Hills with Martha disguised as a man.)   "Mrs. Bloomfield laughed and chatted with Mr. Turner, who sat at her elbow, and smiled at points in the evidence which were most damaging to her," reported The Sun on March 4, 1891.

Having lost her husband, home and children, Martha lost her paramour as well.   When he moved into No. 17 he did so without her.   And on Wednesday November 15, 1893 The Evening World ran a front-page headline which read "Turner Weds Again" and said his marriage to Maude May "caused something of a sensation among clubmen, men about town, and others."  The article reminded its readers "Mr. Turner is known better as a man about town who attained considerable notoriety a couple of years ago as correspondent in the noted Bloomfield divorce suit."

At the time the neighborhood had changed.  The entertainment district had overtaken 23rd Street and No. 17 sat squarely within what was popularly known as the Tenderloin District.  Vice within its gambling dens and saloons went unchecked as police officials grew wealthy on bribes and graft.  Among those attempting to expose the crime and corruption was investigative reporter Nellie Bly, who exposed, for instance, the illegal saloon nearby at No. 17 West 24th Street in 1891.

But her connection to No. 17 West 27th Street had nothing to do with her own investigations.  In 1895 the 31-year old reporter married the wealthy owner of the Iron Clad Manufacturing Co., Robert Seaman, who was 73.  He soon convinced himself that his young wife was cheating.

Seaman hired private detectives to spy on his wife and her supposed lovers.  One of them was James Metcalfe, who lived at No. 17 West 27th Street.  John M. Hanley's fee for "investigating the actions and conduct of one James Metcalfe" was $250, more than $7,500 in today's dollars.  Perhaps because Hanley was unable to dig up any incriminating evidence, his employer decided not to pay.

In November 1898 Hanley sued for that amount plus the other unpaid fees, amounting to $1,265 over the $1,000 retainer he had received.  Competitors to the New York World, Bly's employer, had a field day.  The Sun ran the headline "He Spied On Nellie Bly / Shadow Says Her Husband Hired Him To Do It."

The changes in the neighborhood were evidenced in 1907 when the ground floor was converted to a saloon for G. Hector Clemes and John H. O'Brien, "for many years associated with the Wilson Distilling Company," according to the New-York Tribune on March 26.  The partners' new venture fell flat, however.  A year later in July Clemes & O'Brien declared bankruptcy.

The space soon became The Old Crow Restaurant.   It was still doing business in February 1918 when restaurant owners Anrig & Agoston made a deal to combine the ground floors of No. 17 and No. 1158 Broadway.  The Sun reported Anrig & Agoston "will make extensive alterations and use the combined premises for their business."

Charles Rubin leased the upper floors of No. 17 in May the following year.  The nature of Rubin's business was not reported at the time; but it became obvious before too much longer.

On November 18, 1918 the Government had passed the temporary Wartime Prohibition Act.  It outlawed the sale of alcoholic beverages with an alcohol content of more than 1.28 percent.  The intention was to control grain consumption for the war effort.  It took effect on June 30, 1919, the month after Rubin signed his lease.

On January 13, 1920 The Sun reported that Charles Rubin and his two sons "were arrested yesterday afternoon and held on a charge of violating the war prohibition law."

The Wartime Prohibition Act was quickly following by the Volstead Act, which established permanent Prohibition.  Rubin found himself in hot water again that year.   On October 21 the New-York Tribune reported he had pleaded guilty "to selling whisky" and was sentenced to ten days' imprisonment.

By mid-century No. 17 was the last relic of the 1850's on the block.  Hemmed in by commercial buildings, it provided little hint of its high-class beginnings.  The space once home to the Old Crow Restaurant was, somewhat ironically, the Old Raven Restaurant in 1973 when it was slapped with Health Code violations.

As the district began to turn around, the ground floor became Mr. Leo's Southern Cuisine soul food restaurant by 1984, a destination spot were patrons could order cream-of-collard soup, crab cakes, spareribs and candied shrimp with macaroni and cheese.

Mr. Leo's was owned and operated by Leo Collins, who also owned a nearby disco, Club Elite, at No. 208 West 23rd Street.   On Christmas night, 1993, Collins closed up and headed to his apartment complex in the Bronx.  He was attacked and shot three times in his hallway at 4:30 a.m. in what appeared to be a botched robbery attempt.  Although he managed to crawl into his apartment and call for help, he died of his injuries.

The tragedy was the beginning of the end of the restaurant.  On March 14, 1994 New York Magazine noted "soul-food zealots made Mr. Leo their midtown haunt, though it's lost its edge, they say, since owner Leo Collins was murdered."

About five years later an unflattering brick veneer covered the old storefront, leaving only the old pressed cornice as a reminder.  Today a discount perfume store operates in the space.  The brick of the upper floors has been painted a barn red with black trim, successfully disguising the august beginnings of the once-proud house.

photographs by the author

A Victorian Dowager in a Jazz Age Dress -- 143 West 72nd Street

A flurry of construction along the northern side of West 72nd Street between Columbus and Amsterdam Avenues began in 1883.  Within two years handsome townhouses intended for affluent families lined the block.

The Irwin-Maturin family lived in the four-story, 18-foot wide brick house at No. 143 West 72nd Street by 1893.  Unmarried sisters Jeanne C. and Annie Whitney Irwin-Maturin were members of the Daughters of the American Revolution.

Following their father's death, their house was offered at auction in March 1895.  But when it failed to bring what Irwin-Maturin's executors felt was a good price, it was withdrawn.  (The highest bid was $54,800, or about $1.65 million today.)  With the nation still reeling from the Financial Panic of 1893, real estate operators were not surprised at the low bid.  The New York Times reported "Many persons were present at the sale from curiosity, apparently expecting to see it go much below its value."  The reporter seems to have thought the executors should have taken the bid.  "It would have been a bargain, but not exactly a sacrifice, at that price."

But instead the family took in boarders.  One was George Dyre Eldridge, Jr.  The young man from Westfield, Massachusetts was attending Columbia College and lived here during the 1896-97 academic year.  Twenty-three year old Oswald Simpson boarded here in November 1901 when he was arrested for "driving his vehicle recklessly."

A succinct advertisement appeared in the New-York Tribune on September 19, 1904 which read simply "72D ST., 143 West--Two large rooms, few table boarders accommodated, reference."

When the house was again offered at auction on March 30, 1906, William Broadus Pritchard's $45,000 bid was successful.  Born on June 12, 1862, he had graduated from the College of Physicians and Surgeons of Baltimore in 1884.  By now he was well-established and a noted authority on mental disorders.  He was the author of various papers published in medical journals.  Living with the doctor was his wife, Virginia, and daughter, Elizabeth.

Three months after the family moved into the 72nd Street house, Harry Kendell Thaw fatally shot architect Stanford White in Madison Square Garden for dallying with his wife, showgirl Evelyn Nesbit.  The State hired Dr. Pritchard at $250 a day (more than $7,000 today) to determine Thaw's sanity.  The "alienist" (the then-popular term for psychiatrist) testified that the defendant "was perfectly rational and knew what he was doing when he shot White."

Despite his illustrious practice, the case would brand the physician for years.  When, for example, trolley conductor John Bell faced charges in the murder of Dr. C. Wilmot Townsend the following year, the New-York Tribune reported "Dr. William B. Pritchard, one of the specialists in the Thaw case, visited the Richmond County Jail yesterday and examined John Bell."

The relatively quiet block erupted in chaos on the night of September 28, 1910.  The New York Times reported "Two groups of men fought a revolver battle in West Seventy-second Street between Columbus Avenue and Broadway yesterday evening about 6 o'clock.  The battle ended in a running fight in two motor cars, which continued until the two cars were out of range."

More than 20 shots were fired, causing pedestrians to duck for cover under the high stoops.  One of the cars had been parked directly in front of the Pritchard house when the gunfight broke out.  The newspaper reported "One of the bullets pierced the basement window of Dr. Pritchard's house and badly frightened his butler, who saw the fight."

Another servant would receive a fright the following year.   Sewer workers had erected a small shanty for storing dynamite at the corner of West 72nd Street and Columbus Avenue.  On November 23, 1911 a massive explosion occurred that killed one person, injured several others and blew out windows and caused other damage to stores and houses for blocks.

In terms viewed as shockingly racist today, The Times reported "Dr. William B. Pritchard, the alienist who lives at 143 West Seventy-second Street, lost his cook in the explosion.  She is an old negro mammy from the South.  She did not stop to investigate, but kept on going when she left the house immediately after the explosion.  Dr. Pritchard said she was a good cook, and he hopes she will come back."

Pritchard was treating millionaire Richard E. Thibaut in 1921 following a nervous breakdown.   The patient was at his country estate new Monroe New York on April 13 when he managed to slip away from the attendant Pritchard had put in charge of guarding him.  Thibault was discovered dead in the loft of a barn on the property, "hanging by a piece of electric wire from a rafter," according to The Evening World.  Health Officer David H. Sprague listed the cause of death as "accidental strangulation."

By now West 72nd Street had become heavily commercialized.  On April 14, 1922 society columns reported "Mrs. William B. Pritchard and her daughter, Miss Elizabeth Henderson Pritchard, of 143 West Seventy-second Street, are sailing tomorrow on the Baltic and will spend the Summer in England and Switzerland."  The women's return to West 72nd Street would be just long enough to pack.

On December 2 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that Pritchard had leased his house to the Moton Realty Corporation "for a term of 21 years with two renewal privileges."  The New York Herald added "The two lower floors are to be converted into stores and the upper ones into small suites."

Architect Samuel A. Hertz removed the stoop and converted the first floor to a restaurant, and the second to an office.  The upper floors were "non-housekeeping apartments," according to Department of Buildings documents, meaning that there could be no cooking done.  They were rented as "bachelor apartments."

Among the tenants in 1927 was 23-year old James Quinn.  He was riding in the Wallace Banks's car on June 17 in Upper Jay, New York when Banks lost control.  The automobile smashed into another car, resulting in a horrific accident.  Quinn was removed to a hospital in Plattsburg, but he did not survive.

At the time Arlington Cyrus Hall was extremely well-known in real estate circles.  His family had been involved in development for decades, having started out in the 19th century as house builders.  His cousins, William W. and Thomas M. Hall were known for their high-end, speculative houses built under the firm name Hall & Hall.  Arlington and his brother, Harvey M. Hall, were best known for erecting apartment houses.

In April 1935 Arlington purchased No. 143 under his own name, paying the $26,600 in cash to the estate of Virginia F. Pritchard.  He commissioned the firm of Boak & Paris to remodel the renovated rowhouse into a modern office for A. C. and H. M. Hall Realty Company.

Both Russel M. Boak and Hyman F. Paris had worked in the drafting rooms of architect Emery Roth.  They had struck out as partners in 1927 and by now were giving the Art Deco style--most often in the form of apartment buildings--their own architectural personality.  And they would lavish that jazzy style on the old Victorian house at No. 143 West 72nd Street.

The architects removed the top three floors and faced the building in terra cotta.  Above the vast, elliptical arched second floor window was the only splash of color--a blind brownish-red roundel that burst vertical and horizontal lines.  Incised waves ran below the roof line.

The wave pattern wraps around the building, which projects to the line of the former stoop.  The 1880s neighborhood still peers out above the modern storefronts.

When Arlington C. Hall died on December 2, 1948 in Miami Beach, Florida, A. C. & H. M. Realty Company was still operating from No. 143.  His obituary mentioned that "He specialized in upper West Side properties."

In 1965 Swami Prabhupada laid plans to convert the building to temple.  The founder preceptor of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (commonly known ass the Hare Krishna Movement) had been shown the property by realtors and, according to biographer Satsvarupa Dasa Goswami, "he had already mentally designed the interior for Diety worship and distribution of prasadam."   Indian Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri was a friend and he scheduled a trip to New York, where it was expected he would authorize a release of funds for the project.  But in January 1966 the Prime Minister suffered a fatal heart attack while visiting Russia, putting an abrupt halt to the plans.

Instead, the little building became The House of Games by 1969, described by one newspaper as "the neighborhood center for chess, bridge, backgammon, scrabble, and go players."  While there was a retail shop selling board games, the main attraction was the gaming area that including 40 chess boards.  Open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, players paid 60 cents an hour, or $1 a day for students under 16.

When chess champion Bobby Fischer announced a visit to New York City in September 1972, The House of Games responded.  A giant banner was stretched across West 72nd Street that read "Congratulations Bobby Fischer, American World Champion 1972."

In 1989 a project headed by architects The Penta Group was begun which added two floors.  Completed the following year, the third floor gave an admirable nod to Boak & Paris's 1935 design.  The blank-walled top floor was less enthusiastic.

The often changed 1880's rowhouse is a delightful Art Deco presence, often overlooked on the bustling thoroughfare.

photographs by the author

The Lost Nicholas Wm. Stuyvesant Mansion - St. Mark's Place

from Valentine's Manual of New York 1857 (copyright expired)

Manhattan Island above the established city was dotted with sprawling summer estates in the mid-18th century.  Sitting among the verdant hills near the East River in what would become the East Village and Kips Bay districts were the estates of the Keteltas, Watts and Kips families.  The mansion of the Petrus Stuyvesant, family, however, was a year-round residence.

Erected sometime before 1765, the stately Georgian style home was nestled among sumptuous gardens and surrounded by the outbuildings necessary to maintain the estate.  Located at what would become 8th Street, between First and Second Avenues, its exuded a sense of grandeur.   Nearly a century later, the 1861 book New York City During the American Revolution remembered it as "a fine hip-roofed mansion with a lofty portico."

The visible presence in the extended Stuyvesant family in the area could be traced to Peter Stuyvesant the Director General of the West India Company in New Netherlands.  On March 12, 1651 he purchased land for his farm, or bouwerij, far to the north of New Amsterdam.   The deal included, actually, two properties—Bowery (as the Dutch word became anglicized) #1 on which Stuyvesant constructed his home, and a portion of Bowery #2.  The combined farm encompassed all of the land from today's Fourth Avenue to the river, from 5th to 17th Streets.

from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Among the famous director's great-grandchildren was Petrus (also known as Peter).  He was born in 1727 to Gerardus Stuyvesant and Judith Bayard.    He and his wife, the former Margaret Livingston (familiarly known as Peggy) had three children, Judith, Cornelia, and Nicholas William.

Judith was born on Christmas Day, 1765, around the time the mansion was completed.  Nicholas, the youngest of the three children, came along about four years later.

Nicholas married Catherine Livingston Reade on January 31, 1795.   Following his father's death on August 31, 1805, he inherited the estate.  The couple had produced a teeming family--Peter, Nicholas William, Jr., John Reade, Gerard, Robert Reade, Joseph Reade, Catharine Ann, Helen, and Margaret Livingston Stuyvesant.

American artist Tabea Hosier created this charming primitive depiction of the mansion around 1935.  from the collection of the National Gallery of Art

The Stuyvesant family maintained the gracious home and its sprawling hilltop grounds even as the city inched northward.  But the 1811 Commissioners' Plan was threatened the lifestyles of the estate owners.   Anticipating the relentless march of the city, the Plan laid out regimented streets and avenues across the farms and estates north of the city.

Wealthy landowners realized the end of a gracious period was drawing to a close, and even the powerful Stuyvesant name would not stave off progress forever.   It would be 18 years, however, before Nicholas gave up ownership of the roadway that now cut in front of his mansion.   On October 19, 1829 The Street Committee of the City of New York accepted Nicholas Stuyvesant's "Cession of that Part of Eighth Street lying between the second and third Avenues." 

Within two years developer Thomas E. Davis began erecting fashionable brick-faced rowhouses along the block.  To add exclusivity to the enclave, he was instrumental in having the street renamed St. Mark's Place.

Nicholas William Stuyvesant died in the mansion on March 1, 1833.  Although Catherine would survive to the age of 85, dying in 1863, her family was quick to sell the estate.   Within the year demolition of the house commenced.  Around 1835 the knoll upon which it stood was leveled.

The block as it appears today.