The 1909 Belnord Apartments - 225 West 86th Street

 

photo by Americasroof

On June 23, 1909 The New York World reported, "The largest apartment house in the world is being built on a site covering the entire block bounded by Eighty-sixth and Eighth-seventh streets, Broadway and Amsterdam avenue...It will be known as the Belnord.  It will house a community as large as that of many a town."

The Belnord was rising at a time when many affluent families were giving up private homes for the conveniences of sumptuous apartments.   On August 1, 1908 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide noted that The Belnord would not only be the largest, but "one of the highest grade apartment houses in the world."  The Belnord Realty Company had hired the architectural firm of Hiss & Weekes to design the leviathan structure that the New York World said "will contain 175 apartments, with 2,080 rooms, and the number of occupants, including servants will be 1,225."

Completed in 1909, the 12-story brick and Indiana limestone Belnord was designed in the Italian Renaissance style.  Notable was the large, landscaped courtyard, accessed by two arched carriage entrances on 86th Street (one for incoming and the other for outgoing vehicles), and a "footway entrance" on Broadway.  Residents were not subject to public view in alighting from their carriages or cars.  "All the entrances to the building proper open into the garden court," said an advertisement.    There were four entrances in the courtyard, one at each corner.

The court was accessed by two carriage entrances on 86th Street (bottom) and a pedestrian entrance on Broadway (left).  Entrances into the building were at each interior corner. The Record & Guide, November 7, 1908 (copyright expired)

The smallest of the apartments contained seven rooms.  Suites came with "two, three and four bath rooms and two or three servants' rooms and baths, according to the size of the apartment," said an advertisement.  For those families needing extra servants rooms, those were available elsewhere in the building.

To ensure residents a good night's sleep, almost all the bedrooms faced the courtyard.  Management explained, "the width of the court is greater than that of the average city street, thereby securing more privacy, quiet and sunlight."  

Each apartment had windows on the street and the courtyard.  from The World's New York Apartment House Album, 1909 (copyright expired)

The New York Times noted on September 4, 1908, "A remarkable feature of the house will be its sub-courtyard, which will lie beneath the central court and will be lighted with skylights and gratings.  No tradesmen's wagons will be allowed to drive into and stand around in the main courtyard, but will drive down into the sub-courtyard by means of an inclined driveway from Eighty-seventh Street."

from The World's New York Apartment House Album, 1909 (copyright expired)

Residents would enjoy the latest in domestic amenities.  "All kitchens and pantries are equipped with specially designed gas ranges, porcelain-lined refrigerators and sundry other modern devices...including a garbage receptacle built in the wall and ventilated," said an advertisement.  The built-in refrigerators were capable of producing "ample ice for table use."  Each apartment had a wall safe.

A "single laundry tray" was included in the kitchen, "saving frequent trips to the general laundry on the roof." Domestic Engineering, December 25, 1909 (copyright expired)

Domestic Engineering explained, "These refrigerators are attached to a refrigerating coil and do not use ice' the refrigerator is built in the wall, thus giving enlarge space in the room." December 25, 1909 (copyright expired)

The New York Times wrote, "The interior decorations of each apartment will be in the style of Louis XVI.  The doors will be of solid mahogany.  The floors will be of hard wood."  While there was a laundry on the roof with "individual tubs, ironing boards, and lines for each tenant," wash tubs in the kitchens provided maids the convenience of doing quick small jobs.

Rents in The Belnord in 1909 started at $2,100 per year--or about $5,125 per month in today's terms.  

Among the initial tenants were John Jacob Taylor and his wife, the former Caroline Clarke.  His grandfather, John Bloomingdale Taylor, had been the manager of John Jacob Astor's estate.  Born in 1845, The Yonkers Statesman said he "spent his early boyhood in New York City and Newport, and his early manhood in traveling around the world."  He lived on significant inherited wealth.  "He never engaged in business," said The Yonkers Statesman following Taylor's death in his apartment on March 24, 1911.

The courtyard featured a fountain and manicured gardens.  from The World's New York Apartment House Album, 1909 (copyright expired)

Another early resident was playwright and lyricist Henry Martyn Blossom.  He primarily worked with Victor Herbert, although he also collaborated with composers like Raymond Hitchcock and A. Baldwin Sloane, and wrote the lyrics for Montgomery and Stone's successful The Slim Princess.

The early 1920's saw two theater owners in The Belnord.  Joseph "Joe" Leblang was a part owner of the George M. Cohan Theatre, the Sheridan Theatre, and the Broad Street Theatre in Newark.  

Simultaneously, Walter Reade and his wife, the former Gertrude Blumberg, had an apartment.  Known as the "showman of The Shore," Reade owned six motion picture theaters in Asbury Park.  His chain of theaters would eventually swell to 40.

A somewhat colorful tenant was Lillian N. Duke.  She had married tobacco magnate James Buchanan Duke in 1904, but he quickly divorced her over infidelity.  She received a $500,000 settlement, more than $15 million in today's money.  But her finances were seriously impacted when she trusted an unscrupulous broker, Alfred E. Lindsay.  On March 2, 1922 The Morning Telegraph reported that Lillian had charged him with "grand larceny in the first degree," saying he had "taken money ostensibly to invest."  She won the case and Lindsay was "sent to prison for swindling Mrs. Duke out of $325,000 in cash and $50,000 in jewelry," said The New York Times.

It was a Pyrrhic victory.  Lindsay had lost his freedom but Lillian had lost her fortune.  She soon left The Belnord and moved to West 88th Street, where she died on October 25, 1925.  In reporting her death, The New York Times mentioned, "Several days ago it was learned that she had been nearly destitute for months."

By the 1930's, grand Victorian apartment buildings had generally fallen from favor as wealthy New Yorkers moved to modern Art Deco style buildings.  But The Belnord held its own.  An advertisement in The New York Sun on June 17, 1930 boasted, "Everybody who ever lived in The Belnord likes it, and nearly everybody who ever lived there is still living there now!"

A view from 86th Street through the opulent carriage entrance into the courtyard.  photo via thebelnord.com

But the third quarter of the century did see remarkable change.  On November 16, 1980 The New York Times began an article saying, "At the Belnord, the wages of battle is more battle.  And more battle.  And more battle."  The disputes between the tenants and the landlord had started nearly a decade earlier.  The article said, "the splendor that was the Belnord's is mostly gone.  Although Isaac Bashevis Singer and scores of other success stories live there now, much of the grace has been chased by the shrill battles pitting many of the 225 current residents against the owner, Lillian Seril."

Amy Munetz recalled that when she moved into the building in August 1940, "the staff used to include full-time carpenters, electricians and laundry room attendants."  Now, she said, "we are down to about a dozen people for this huge place."

Although the exterior of the building had been given landmark designation in June 1966, inside was another story.  "The roof, the elevators and the electrical and plumbing systems are said to need major repairs.  Chunks of ceiling in some apartments have collapsed and other apartments have leaks.  The platform holding the garden is cracking, shifting and leaking and stalactites have formed in the basement," said the article.

The hostility between the tenants and landlord raged on for another 14 years.  Then, on October 29, 1994 The New York Times journalist Shawn G. Kennedy reported, "Twenty years after angry tenants went to war with the owner of one of the Upper West Side's grandest apartment buildings, a peace settlement was reached yesterday, ending one of the longest rent strikes in New York City's history."

Lillian Seril had thrown in the towel, selling The Belnord to Property Markets Group.  "The new owners...have agreed to spend $5 million on new plumbing and electrical systems, a new security system and more staff members," said the article.  The owners inherited "hundreds of building code violations and state-imposed penalties."

Interestingly, one of the tenants was Lillian Seril.  She died in her 3,000-square-foot, $450 per month rent-controlled apartment at the age of 95 on June 24, 2004.  In reporting her death, The New York Times mentioned that The Belnord had been "a center of the Upper West Side's intellectual life, home over the years to figures like the Nobel Prize-winning author Isaac Bashevis Singer, the Actors Studio founder Lee Strasberg and the actor Zero Mostel."  Other well-known residents include actors Matt Damon and Walter Matthau.

photo via thebelnord.com

The much-improved Belnord was sold in 2015 to HFZ Capital Group, which announced plans to convert the building to condominiums.  Architect Robert A. M. Stern was commissioned to remodel the apartments.  And while carriages and touring cars no longer pass in and out of the majestic iron gates, the dignity of the grand apartment building has been recaptured.  (Currently the Belnord is the set of the Hulu series "Only Murders in the Building.")

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

The Lost William K. Vanderbilt, Jr. Mansion - 666 Fifth Avenue

 

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

Few boys were born into more wealth, privilege and luxury than was William Kissam Vanderbilt, Jr. (familiarly known as Willie K.).  The second child of William Kissam Vanderbilt and Alva Erskine Smith, he grew up in the sumptuous "Petite Chateau" at the northwest corner of Fifth Avenue and 52nd Street.   Like other heirs to massive fortunes, Willie K. received a private education--first by tutors and then at St. Mark's School.  Although he enrolled in Harvard University, he left after his second year.

In 1897 the Herman Oelrichs family moved into the former marble mansion of Mary Mason Jones on the northeast corner of 57th Street and Fifth Avenue.  Living with the family was Theresa Fair Oelrich's teenage sister, Virginia Fair.  Their father, James Graham Fair, had died in 1894, leaving each a personal fortune estimated at around $414 million in today's money.

The New York Times said of Virginia, “She was popular from her first entrance into society, and while not exactly a great belle, has always been much liked, both in New York and Newport.”  Newspapers reported that "society took notice" during the summer season of 1897 in Newport when the 18-year-old William K. Vanderbilt, Jr. "showed attention" to

Virginia, known popularly as Birdie.

That attention grew serious and on April 2, 1899 The New York Times reported, "Workmen were busy all day yesterday in the residence of Mr. Hermann Oelrichs, 1 East Fifty-seventh Street."  An army of decorators, carpenters and florists were preparing the conservatory and ballroom for the wedding of Willie K. and Birdie.

The newlyweds originally moved into the Petite Chateau with William's father (he and Alva Vanderbilt had gone through a divorce that rocked the foundations of high society in 1895).  Then, soon after William Sr. married Anne Harriman in 1903, he gave his son and daughter-in-law the two properties at 666 and 668 Fifth Avenue.

The two brownstones, separated from the Vanderbilt mansion by a service alley, would be the site of Willie K's new home.  from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

On April 9, 1904 the Real Estate Record & Guide announced that McKim, Mead & White had been chosen to design the new Vanderbilt residence, saying "nothing definite has yet been decided."  That had all changed four months later when the journal reported, "The two old four-story brownstone dwellings will be demolished and an entirely new structure will be built...The new house will resemble in style, design and material the older [Vanderbilt mansion] and will assure to Fifth avenue another splendid architectural acquisition."

William poses with a stuffed alligator while Birdie sits in an ornate wicker "rolling chair."  photo vanderbiltcupraces.com

Construction was started in April 1905, just as William and Virginia's country estate, Deepdale, designed by  Carrère & Hastings was being completed.  The Fifth Avenue project was headed by Stanford White and he harmoniously melded the architecture of the new mansion with that of Richard Morris Hunt's masterpiece next door.   

Unlike that residence, with its broad, low staircase that rose from the sidewalk, William K. Vanderbilt, Jr.'s mansion would be entered at street level, through a gaping Gothic arch that was echoed by the two first floor windows.  White leaned a bit more toward the French Gothic than did Hunt, using crockets, square headed drip moldings, and spiky pinnacles in its decoration.

It is almost certain that White also designed the interiors, described as "sumptuously furnished," as he did for most of his commissions.   He would never see the completed mansion, however.  He was murdered on June 25, 1906, a year before the project was finished.

The McKim, Mead & White floorplans.  from "A Monograph of the Work of McKim, Mead & White 1879-1915" (publ. 1920.)

The Vanderbilts had hardly moved in before the Record & Guide hinted at buyers' remorse.  Despite the hard battle Fifth Avenue millionaires had waged for years, commercial interests were inching ever closer to Vanderbilt territory.  On October 3, 1908 the journal wrote, "A prominent real estate broker has recently made the prediction that the business part of Fifth avenue would extend as far north as 59th street, but no further."  The article noted that mansions of Delancy Kane and William K. Vanderbilt, Jr. "have been completed only a couple of years; and yet already it is probable that their owners would, if they still had any choice, build on different locations."  And only a month later the Record & Guide reported that the abutting house at 670 Fifth Avenue would be altered "as showrooms for carriages and automobiles."

The side-by-side Vanderbilt mansions were in architectural harmony.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The commercial invasion into their neighborhood perhaps paled to the upheaval going on inside the Vanderbilt mansion.   Tensions between William and Virginia had grown untenable and in 1909 Willie moved out.  Divorce, as far as Virginia was concerned, was out of the question.  While her husband was Episcopalian, she was a Roman Catholic.

Virginia remained in the residence with the couple's three children, nine-year-0ld Muriel, six-year old Consuelo (named for her aunt who married the Duke of Marlboro the same year her parents divorced), and two-year old William Kissam Vanderbilt III.

Entertainments went on.  On January 4, 1914, for instance, The Sun announced, "Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, Jr., is giving a large dance to-morrow night at her house, 666 Fifth avenue."  And on January 9, 1917 The Buffalo Enquirer noted, "Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, Jr., on Monday evening, will give a dance for Miss Flora Payne Whitney at her house, No. 666 Fifth avenue.  Miss Whitney is the daughter of Mrs. Harry Payne Whitney."

As was the case with all New York City mansions, the Vanderbilt house was closed during the hot summer months with only a skeleton staff left behind, mostly for security reasons.  At 2 a.m. on June 11, 1919 police were notified that burglars had entered the mansion.  The butler was awakened by the police ringing the doorbell.  He said "the first he heard of any burglar was when the police arrived," according to the New-York Tribune.

The article said, "Reserves from the East Fifty-second Street station and patrolmen from nearby posts arrived in large numbers."  They formed a cordon around the block while detectives searched the residents for intruders."  The excitement resulted in Fifth Avenue being "filled with a crowd of neighbors and persons from uptown hotels and Broadway loiterers."  But it turned out to be someone's idea of a prank.

The police were not amused in the least.  The New-York Tribune reported, "When it was learned that the alarm was a hoax, Police Captain Henry and a squad of men raided a number of resorts along Broadway and rounded up about thirty persons, demanding their reasons for being out at 'such an hour.'"

Muriel's debutante entertainments began in 1921.  On January 13 the New-York Tribune reported, "Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt 2d, who has been giving a series of dinners this season, gave a large affair of this kind last night at her home...for her daughter, Miss  Muriel Vanderbilt."  There were 80 at dinner and another 200, "many of them of the younger married set," came for dancing later.  There was also "exhibition dancing by professionals and other entertainers."

Muriel's introduction to society lasted throughout the year.  On January 20, 1922 The New York Times reported, "Yesterday's largest entertainment was the dance that Mrs. W. K. Vanderbilt 2d gave at her residence, 666 Fifth Avenue for her debutante daughter, Miss Muriel Vanderbilt, and which was attended by many young married people, as well as the season's debutantes and the younger dancing men.  There were between 200 and 300 present."

That coming winter season would see Virginia focused on Consuelo.  She and her cousin, Cathleen (the daughter of Reginald Vanderbilt) were contemporaries and on November 26, 1922 The Buffalo Times wrote:

Despite the fact that the two Vanderbilt girls, Consuelo and Cathleen, are not to come out officially this season, there is little doubt that by the time that they are to be presented, society will be well acquainted with their charming personalities.  At the famous Vanderbilt mansion at No. 666 Fifth Avenue, Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, 2nd, will give a Thanksgiving Eve party for Cathleen.  It is sure to be an elaborate affair, and the debs and debmen are on the qui vive with anticipation.

The Fifth Avenue mansion was the scene of Consuelo's marriage to Earl E. T. Smith on the afternoon of January 7, 1926.  The New York Times, interestingly enough, did not tip-toe around the fact that Virginia and William were estranged, saying the ceremony would take place "at the home of her mother."  Rev. Thomas Murphy of St. Patrick's Church--the same priest who had married Consuelo's parents-- performed the ceremony.

The event was unexpectedly understated.  The article said it "will be comparatively small, only members of the two families being asked to the ceremony," adding, "Miss Vanderbilt has decided to dispense with attendants."  (Invitations to the reception, however, said the article, "will be more general.")  The New York Times noted that when the newlyweds returned from their wedding trip, they "will live at 24 East Sixty-fourth Street, the house being one of the wedding gifts from the bride's father."

Virginia Fair Vanderbilt's mansion was the last hold-out on the block when this photograph was snapped.  (original source unknown)

Virginia was being increasingly hemmed in by commerce by now.  A year earlier, in May 1925, Benjamin Winter had purchased the Petite Chateau, announcing he "will erect a twenty-story business building on the site."  And an article in The Buffalo Times on July 18, 1926 hinted at Virginia's isolation among shops and offices.  "The Vanderbilt house at 666 Fifth Avenue is indeed an oasis for the weary shopper's eye these days.  Every window is a miniature bower of bloom, and I dare say that the cost of the hydrangeas and ivy which gladden Milady's eye as she wanders in search of July bargains in chapeaux would easily keep me and thee in Camels for the rest of our smoking days."

After having lived apart for 18 years, in 1927 William convinced his wife to file for divorce.   He had fallen in love with Rosamund Lancaster Warburton.  On June 3 The New York Times reported, "Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, the former Virginia Fair, received a decree of divorce today."  The article noted that she and William "have provided a kaleidoscopic domestic picture for New York society for many years...They have been together, in recent years, only at the coming-out functions of their two daughters, Muriel and Consuelo, and at their marriages."

Virginia had gone to Paris to obtain the divorce.  The New York Times said, "Before sailing Mrs. Vanderbilt's ornate Gothic residence at 666 Fifth Avenue, known as the Virginia Fair house, her maiden name, was sold, to be converted into a business building.  It adjoined the French chateau of William K. Vanderbilt, Sr., her father-in-law, which was recently razed to make way for a business building."

Virginia Fair Vanderbilt had maintained control over her former home, even after selling it for "more than $1,500,000," according to The New York Times (about $22.3 million today).  Court documents revealed that in the contract she "insisted that a building seven stories above the ground be erected at a cost of at least $500,000."

Demolition begins on March 28, 1928.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The replacement building survived until 1955 when it was demolished to make way for the 41-floor Tishman Building (known now as 660 Fifth Avenue).

The 1929 replacement...(from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York)

...and its successor.  photo by David Shankbone

LaptrinhX.com has no authorization to reuse the content of this blog

The Eternal Light Flagstaff - Madison Square.

 

Nearly two years after the end of World War I, New York Legislative Documents noted, "No progress has been made during the past year toward a conclusion as to the form of New York City's great war memorial."  The two favored ideas being considered were a "Liberty Bridge" over the Hudson River, and the conversion of Madison Square Garden into Liberty Hall, proposed "to become the largest convention hall in the world, with a seating capacity of 20,000 people, containing a sacred Gothic Chapel and an organ that should be the greatest yet built."  The document added, "As a third alternative they recommended a Liberty Arch in the heart of the city."

As it turned out, none of those ideas would earn the approval of millionaire department store mogul Rodman Wanamaker, Chairman of the Mayor John Francis Hyland's Committee on Permanent Memorial.  (Wanamaker almost undoubtedly achieved the position through his former employee, Grover Whalen, who had been appointed Commissioner of Plants and Structures in 1918.)

Wanamaker felt strongly that the monument "should stand out by its simplicity"--the very antithesis of the three popular ideas.  It may have been that conflict that resulted in his personally footing the $25,000 bill for the project--more than $360,000 today.

Wanamaker's committee eventually approved the design submitted by Thomas Hastings, of the esteemed architectural firm Carrere and Hastings.  The Eternal Light Monument would take the form of a 125-foot tall wooden flagstaff formed from a century-old tree cut in "the virgin forests of Oregon and transported over the Rocky Mountains," according to The NYC Department of Parks.  Hastings designed a monumental pink granite pedestal that upheld the grand bronze pole base.  Paul Wayland Bartlett, who had studied under Auguste Rodin, executed the sculptural elements.

Atop the flagpole was a seven-pointed electrified star.  It was  first illuminated on Armistice Day, November 11, 1923, and the m0nument was formally dedicated on June 7, 1924.  The names of significant French battles were engraved on the east and west faces.  On the north was carved, "In memory of those who have made the supreme sacrifice for the triumph of the free peoples of the world," and on the south, in part, "Erected to commemorate the first homecoming of the victorious Army and Navy of these United States."

The Eternal Light Monument was the terminus of the annual Armistice Day parades, when tens of thousands of veterans marched from City Hall to Madison Square.  (Armistice Day marked the day and hour World War I ended--the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11 month in 1918.)

photo via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

The monument was also used by the city to honor distinguished guests.   In June 1927 the Broadway motorcade of Charles Lindbergh stopped so the famous flier could lay a wreath at its base.   And a month later, on July 18, The Daily Worker reported, "Clarence Chamberlin, Richard E. Byrd and the three men who flew with Byrd to Paris came back to New York yesterday...The fliers were met at the City Hall by Mayor Walker and received the city's medals of valor.  At the eternal light in Madison Square, William H. Woodin welcomed them to the state in the absence of Governor Smith."

The Eternal Light Monument turned political around 1930, when socialists adopted it as their own symbol.  It may have started with the May Day observations in Union Square that year.  Army veterans planned a counter-protest.  The Socialist newspaper The Daily Worker wrote, "If the Veterans of Foreign Wars can scrape together enough sluggers, boss-bellycrawlers and thugs they will start their march from the Eternal Light in Madison Square."

Members of the Women's Overseas Service League pose before the monument around 1924.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

In 1932 veterans marched on Washington D.C. to demand government promised pension money.  Two of them, Eric Carlson and William Hushka were shot dead by D.C. police.  The deaths enraged Socialists, who organized "Huska-Carlson Day" the following year.  On July 27, 1933 protestors assembled at Rutgers Square.  The Daily Worker advised, "From there, a parade will leave for Madison Square (23rd St.) at the Eternal Light."

Every year the antithetical groups would use the monument for their widely disparate purposes.  The annual Armistice Day  parades and subsequent ceremonies went on in November, while the Socialists embraced the memorial in the spring months.  On March 6, 1934 The Daily Worker announced, "The youth section of the American League Against War and Fascism will hold an anti-war parade starting at the Eternal Light in Madison Square, where a wreath will be laid."  The banner on that wreath read, "We Will Not Support the Government In Any War It May Undertake."

Ernst Thaelmann, the leader of the Communist Party of Germany, was arrested by the German Government in 1933.  Reaction in the form of rallies and protests among the Socialist and Communist communities in America was swift.  On the night of June 13, 1934 Jack Corrigan shimmied to the top of the Eternal Light flagpole and hung a massive red banner demanding "FREE ERNST THAELMANN."  He and his comrades assured that it would remain there as long as possible by greasing the pole upon his descent and cutting the pole ropes.  On June 15 The Daily Worker reported, "While crowds gathered to watch the sight, police squads desperately tried to get up the pole, but it was greased too well for them."

In 1965 the participants in the annual ceremonies--originally composed of thousands--had greatly diminished.  photo via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services

In 1954 Armistice Day was changed by Congress to Veterans Day, in order to honor the deceased veterans of all wars.  

In 1976 the wooden flagpole was replaced with a metal version.  By then the once massive Veterans Day ceremonies had greatly diminished.  On November 13, 1979 Judith Cummings, writing in The New York Times, said "Few New Yorkers marched in the annual Veterans Day parade yesterday on Fifth Avenue and almost as few bothered to watch it, deciding instead to take advantage of department store sales."  She went on, "Ceremonies at the parade's terminus at Madison Square Park drew several dozen onlookers, who stood quietly in chill wind to hear the speakers in front of the graffiti-scarred Eternal Light monument near 24th Street."

Part of the meager turnout was blamed on anti-Vietnam War sentiments.  But numbers grew in 1981 when national patriotism swelled with the return of American hostages from Iran.  Mayor Edward Koch announced, "Now we must not rest until they [the Vietnam MIA's] are likewise returned."

The Veterans Day ceremonies saw another increase of numbers in 1983.  Gannett Westchester Newspapers wrote on November 12, "About 2,000 present and former servicemen marched under cloudy skies in New York City's Veterans Day parade to pay tribute to America's fallen heroes, especially those killed recently in Lebanon and Grenada.  They stepped smartly down Fifth Avenue to the Eternal Light Monument in Madison Square where 32 wreaths were placed in memory of the fighting men and women of the United States."

But the numbers had waned again in 1986, when The New York Times reported "The sparse crowds at recent Veterans Day parades in Manhattan were generous compared with the smattering that turned out yesterday."  It was, nevertheless, a groundbreaking event.  The article noted, "for the first time, homosexual veterans joined the march under their own banner."  It was not entirely a welcomed change.  The article noted, "As the Gay Veterans entered the parade from 39th Street, a man slashed the banner with a knife and fled."

The luminaire, or lighted star, at the top of the flagstaff was refurbished in 2017.  Thomas Hastings's magnificent base, described in 1979 as "graffiti-scarred," has been restored.  And the Eternal Light monument continues to be the site of the annual Veterans Day ceremonies after nearly a century.

photographs by the author

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

The 1890 Sylvia Apartments - 59 West 76th Street

 

In 1889 developer Frank L. Fisher commissioned architect Edward L. Angell to design a "flat and store" building at the northeast corner of 76th Street and Columbus Avenue.  Called The Sylvia, Angell's tripartite Renaissance Revival structure was completed the following year.   The residential entrance was on West 76th Street.  It sat above a stone stoop and was flanked by polished columns that upheld an elaborately carved entablature.  Affixed to the façade, a few feet from the corner, a decorative stone plaque announced the building's name amid a profusion of Renaissance inspired carvings.

Angell treated the mid-section in alternating beige-gray brick and white stone, resulting in a striped effect.  The three-story upper level sat upon a slightly projecting intermediate cornice.
  

There were 15 apartments in The Sylvia--ranging from six to eight rooms and a bath each.  The ground floor along Columbus Avenue housed commercial spaces.  The initial commercial tenants were Milton Schnaier's plumbing business at 347-359 Columbus Avenue, and a paint store in 345.  An advertisement in The World on March 21, 1895 sought "Boy Wanted, 15, to learn paint business.  Apply 8 A.M. 345 Columbus ave."

The location was exceedingly convenient for Milton Schnaier, who lived upstairs.  In 1894 he hired a bookkeeper, Jacob Recht.  The young man seemed to work out--at least for four years.  Then, on December 9, 1898, the Brooklyn newspaper the Times Union, reported that Recht had appeared in the Tombs Police Court "charged with embezzling $2,100 from his employer, Milton Schnaier, a plumbing contractor at 347 Columbus ave."  It had been discovered that for the entire period of his employment he had been "systematically falsifying his accounts."  The total of Recht's pilfering would amount to about $66,800 today.

Schnaier's neighbors in The Sylvia were for the most part respectable professionals, like Deputy Assistant District Attorney Charles E. F. McCann, and Professor L. A. Baralt, a member of the psychological section of the Medico-Legal Society.  

Press coverage normally revolved around social issues.  On April 19, 1896, for instance, the New York Herald reported that Mr. and Mrs. Charles Anthony Geoghegan, who had been married in St. Lawrence's Church on Park Avenue and 84th Street a month earlier, "have sent out cards for Thursday afternoons and evenings during April and May."  ("Cards" announced when socialites could call.)  The article noted "Mr. and Mrs. Geoghegan are living at the Sylvia, No. 59 West Seventy-sixth street."

But the limelight became a bit more scurrilous after actor James E. B. Earll and his wife, the notorious actress Hope Booth, moved in following their marriage in 1895.   Hope, who claimed to be related to Shakespearean actor Edwin Booth, was known more widely for wearing little or no clothes than for her acting abilities.  In 1896, at the age of 23, she appeared at the Casino Roof Gardens in an act entitled "Ten Minutes in the Latin Quartier; or A Study in the Nude."  She and the manager of the theater were promptly arrested.

Hope was performing at the Howard Athenaeum in February 1901.  A fight broke out in the lobby over a poster depicting Hope in her revealing costume, which several men attempted to steal.  The Morning Telegraph explained on February 28, 1901, "When Miss Booth learned of the episode, she felt that the admirers deserved to know her.  She, therefore, made an appointment with them.  The result was that she was introduced to other clubmen and a hastily arranged private dinner party was scheduled for Saturday night."

The gentlemen's dinner party was held in a private dining room in a hotel.  "She had just attired herself in a set of silk fleshings prepared to impersonate Venus, when a bellboy burst hastily into the room with the announcement that a rumor of the proceedings had reached the street, and that everyone had better leave at once," said the article.  Hope escaped in a bathrobe.  The Morning Telegraph reported "Miss Booth was seen at her apartments, 59 West Seventy-sixth street, yesterday, and admitted there was considerable foundation to the story," (except she insisted she had worn "silk fleshings" and was not nude as the rumors said).
 

Hope Booth - from the collection of the New York Public Library

Real trouble in the Earll-Booth household began two months later.  A telegraph boy named Julian Goldy was walking Earll's "big brindle bulldog" on April 29.  It got away from him and "twice sank his teeth in the calf" of Charles C. Reilly in the grassy grounds of the Museum of Natural History.  The New-York Tribune reported "At the hospital he was told that his wounds were exceedingly dangerous.  He was advised to go to the Pasteur Institute."  Reilly demanded that the bulldog be destroyed.

The Morning Telegraph mused, "But for this animal, no skeleton would have been dragged from Miss Booth's closet and rattled yesterday in the halls of justice."  That was because James E. B. Earll had been summoned to court on July 15 to explain why he had ignored a previous summons, the consequences of which could now be $5,000.

Earll insisted he had never been served a summons.  But a process server took the stand and recounted how he had appeared at The Sylvia apartment, and when the man in the Booth apartment refused to accept the summons, he threw it at him and left.  Earll protested, saying "He never served me.  Who could it have been?"

And then the circumstances dawned on everyone in the courtroom.  The Morning Telegraph ran the headline, "Who Was The Man?"  It seems that in Earll's absence, Hope was entertaining someone else.

To deflect guilt, Hope sued her husband for divorce, claiming that he "registered in the Hotel Bartholdi on January 18 with a woman whose name is unknown to her."  She attested that "He enjoyed an income of $55,000 a year and often receives rich presents in money from his mother, who is worth from $700,000 to $1,000,000."  In reporting on the procedures, The Morning Telegraph said, "she believes she has been the most persecuted of all women."

But there was more woe in Hope Booth's future.  On June 16 The Morning Telegraph said "Miss Hope Booth, whose greatest delight in life is to poise coyly on the tip of a papier mâché moon, clad only in such raiment as the statues demand, arose from a long siege of illness yesterday to find she had sustained an awful loss."  Hope had been given an automobile by "a millionaire coal merchant."  Her monogram was inscribed in silver on both doors.  But that morning the car had been repossessed.

"The blow was too, too much for the embryonic star.  She took to her bed.  What with a divorce action pending against James E. B. Earll, her husband, and other domestic troubles, this last shock made the camel's burden many pounds overweight."

But Hope bounced back.  Following her divorce, she married drama critic Renold Wolf on February 4, 1903.  Her story ended sadly, however.  She was committed to a sanitarium in Italy in 1909 and could not return home until friends wired money.  She divorced Wolf the following year and died in a hotel on Third Avenue in 1933, not having left her room for years.

In the meantime, The Sylvia continued to be home to white-collar residents, many of them in the legal field, like George F. Lyon, a special deputy clerk in the court system, and city magistrate Nathan Klein, here for several years beginning around 1912.

In 1913 a six-room apartment with bath in The Sylvania rented for between $600 and $800, or about $1,775 per month in today's money.

Rudolph Diamant moved in in 1917.  The well-paid accountant was a member of the American Statistical Association.   He decorated his apartment with original art, and when the Society of Independent Artists staged its sixth annual exhibition in the Waldorf-Astoria in March 1922, he brought home two more paintings--Martin J. Jackson's Independence Day, and Racers by Margaret M. Law.

By then the stores at street level had, of course, changed hands.  Milton Schnaier & Co. was taken over in 1919 by Harry Vurman, 349 was home to the D. & W. Luggage Shop and 341 housed a delicatessen.  

On May 1, 1924 three gunmen, Arthur Cawley, Salvatore Orlando, and Gerald Pantusco went on an armed robbery spree, hitting the Columbus Avenue deli and a drug store a block away at Columbus and 74th Street in the process.  As they fled the pharmacy, they encountered three policemen and a gun battle erupted.  Two of the robbers were apprehended, but 21-year old Arthur Cawley was shot to death.

Resident Ruben Dorfman was involved in a bizarre and perhaps humiliating accident on the day after Christmas in 1932.   The 45-year-old had parked his sedan on the fourth floor of a garage on West 68th Street four weeks earlier.  Now, it refused to start.  The New York Times said, "He tinkered with the machine for half an hour, during which period the operator of the vehicle elevator came and went with other machines."

Dorfman's relief when the engine finally turned over was short-lived.  The car lurched backwards and plunged five stories down the elevator.  Dorfman was extricated from the wreckage by a police emergency squad and was taken to the hospital with multiple fractures and internal injuries.  The Daily News reported that he "is dying in Flower hospital as a result" of the accident.

Dorfman's car at the bottom of the elevator shaft.  Daily News, December 27, 1932.

The Excellent Food Shop occupied 347 Columbus Avenue in the mid-1940's.  In June 1947 an armed robber, James Ford, made off with $48 in an early morning holdup.  At the time there was one customer in the place, 60-year old Louis George.

In an amazing instance of déjà vu, a month later, on July 12, Louis George was again the only customer in the restaurant at 2:15 a.m. when Ford returned.  The gunman took the $12.25 that was in the register, then turned to George.  When he did not produce pocket money fast enough for the thief, "the thug kicked him," according to the Daily News.  "Reeling, George's hand fell on an icepick.  George grabbed it and stabbed his assailant in the side, chest and neck."

The wounded crook ran out the door but was knocked down by a passerby.  Arrested, James, was taken to the Bellevue Hospital prison ward and charged with assault and robbery.

The original 76th Street base and elaborate entranceway can be seen in this photo taken around 1941.  NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

A renovation to The Sylvia completed in 1976 resulted in six apartments per floor.  The project obliterated Edward L. Angell's striking 76th Street base, including the elaborate entrance.  The entire ground floor was refaced with artificial stone that unsuccessfully attempts to mimic the original.  Thankfully the marvelous carved plaque was preserved.

Dobson's restaurant moved into the ground floor and would remain until 1989 when The Gap took over the space.  It was later home to Putumayo, another clothing store, and in 2015 Peruvian Connection opened its boutique in No. 341 Columbus Avenue.

photographs by the author

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

The Wells Natural Ice Stables - 525 West 29th Street

 

By 1879 the family of Frederick Heather lived in the 25-foot wide brick-faced house at 525 West 29th Street.  Heather owned a boiler business at 607 West 38th Street.  He and his wife, Louisa, had three grown sons, Henry, Charles, and Louis.  Only Henry was unmarried.  He lived with his parents and worked in the boiler business.

Heather's business was successful enough that in 1884 he expanded, building a machine shop on Eleventh Avenue at 37th Street.  Frederick Heather died around 1887, and on May 14, 1891 Louisa died "suddenly" at the age of 78.  Her funeral was held in the West 29th Street house three days later.

The neighborhood near the Hudson River was becoming increasingly gritty by the time of Louisa's death.  The three Heather children, who inherited the property in equal shares, leased the family home by 1897 to the Foster Machine Co.  The firm converted the house for light manufacturing.  It hired work to be performed off site, as well.  An advertisement on April 12, 1899 read:

Ladies to make sample patches at home; $6 to $10 weekly; no canvassing; reply envelope for sample and particulars.  Foster Machine Co., 525 West Twenty-ninth st., New York.

But major change was on the horizon.  On July 27, 1904 the three Heather heirs sold the property to Henry Allen, giving him a $2,000 mortgage (around $60,000 today).  It was resold the following year to Charles A. Ahrens, who initiated a major remodeling.

The renovations, completed in the summer of 1906, transformed the house into a stable.  Loft openings now replaced the center windows of the second and third floors, and a truck bay engulfed most of the ground floor.  And advertisement in the New York Herald on September 17, 1906 offered for lease, "New three story Stable; 28 stalls and wagon room; immediate possession."

It was leased to A. M. Wells, owner of the Wells Natural Ice Company.  His business was, of course, mostly seasonal.  The stable was a hive of activity during the hot summer months, as drivers headed off to the massive ice house, then to businesses and homes across the city with blocks of ice.  

The coming of winter tremendously decreased the demand.  On October 30, 1910 and advertisement in the New York Herald offered, "Account season ending, must sell thirty Horses, Mares, used hard all summer; no reasonable offer refused; trial allowed.  Inquire foreman, Wells Natural ice Stables, 525 West 29th st."

In the mid-1920's the stables was converted to office space.  Among the tenants was architect B. H. Whinston, here by 1928.  

As the 21st century dawned, proposals to reshape the West Side neighborhood took shape.  The Friends of the High Line was organized in 1999 to transform the abandoned elevated railroad spur into green space.  Soon thereafter, ideas to erect the West Side Stadium atop the old West Side Yard, a storage yard for Long Island Rail Road trains, were proposed.  (That concept later took shape as Hudson Yards.)

In 2005 the old ice stables was renovated to accommodate a restaurant on the ground floor.   Nine years later The New York Times would say it sat "on what used to be a dull block of garages and tenements, but is now transforming into a luxury row."

In 2014 Noel Ashman and Michael Bregman opened the Leonora here, described by Brian Sloan in The New York Times as "A 'semiprivate' clubhouse for the creative set."  He explained, "The Leonora is hoping to cultivate an atmosphere of exclusivity to lure celebrities from their urban aeries for a paparazzi-free night on the town."

Unfortunately for the club, it was evicted for non-payment of rent in 2016.   Today the ground floor is home to a "modern Mexican" restaurant, while studio loft spaces occupy the upper stories.  The vintage building is one of a handful of 19th century survivors along the block of modern residential structures.

photographs by the author

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

The Moses Parker House - 331 West 20th Street

 

Below the skinny window at the right is a basement-level doorway which accessed the horsewalk to the rear yard.

Around 1850 the handsome brick-faced house at 231 West 20th Street (renumbered 331 in 1860) was completed.  Most likely designed by the builder, it was influenced by the Greek Revival style, most notably in the paneled pilasters, sidelights and transom of the doorway.  Four stories tall and 25-feet side, its entrance was slightly off-skew to accommodate a horsewalk, or passage to the rear yard, next to the stoop.

In 1853-54 two families listed their addresses here--possibly one of them living in the smaller house in the rear.  Townsend Carpenter listed his occupation (appropriately) as "carpenter," although he was most likely a builder; and Bowen G. Lord was a carman (either a delivery man or the driver of a horse-drawn streetcar).

Carpenter and Lord were most likely renters.  The owner listed the property on October 18, 1855 "for sale or rent," describing it as having "all the modern improvements, built in the very best manner, positively situated at No. 231 West Twentieth street."  The $800 rent was affordable, at least by a 21st century viewpoint, equal to just over $2,000 a month today.

Thomas C. Doyle, who ran a fish market on Eighth Avenue, signed a one-year lease.  Finally, in 1857, when Moses Parker and his wife Susan purchased it, the house had long-term residents.  Parker was a well-to-do builder and real estate operator.  The couple had three children, Richard, Robert and Sarah.

Starting around 1867 the Parkers took in boarders, the  Robert C. Thompson family.  Given the size of the family (Robert and Susan Matilda had five children--DeWitt Smith, Elizabeth R., Robert Haig, William H., and George Haig), they most likely rented the rear house.  

The Thompsons had at least one domestic servant.  Nineteen-year-old Kate Chrisman was described by The Evening Telegram as "a servant long in his employ."  That long relationship had come to an abrupt end when Thompson and Chrisman appeared in court on October 19, 1868.  The Evening Telegram reported she was charged "with stealing and taking away from his home wearing apparel, bed clothes, linen, &c, of the value of $40."  (The theft would be closer to $750 today.)  The article added, "An officer whom Mr. Thompson called upon, found the property in the accused's possession."  The teen confessed to the crime and was held for sentencing.

Sarah E. Parker died on April 30, 1873.  As was expected at the time, one family member at a time sat with her body in the parlor night and day until her funeral was held there three days later.

The Parker family remained in the house through 1877.  The following year Catherine Howie and her son, James W. moved in.  Catherine's husband, engineer William Howie, had died just months earlier.  James made his living as a clerk, and the two stayed on until John Joseph Curran purchased 331 West 20th Street in 1880.

Both Curran and his brother, Frank J, who were born in Newport, Rhode Island, were dentists.  Frank moved into the house, as well, and the brothers opened their dental practice in the basement level.

Frank was operating on an abscessed tooth in the spring of 1894 when his patient bit his finger.  Curran developed blood poisoning which was so severe that by the middle of March his life was in jeopardy.  At one point, according to The Hebrew American on March 16, "the attending physicians thought his right arm would have to be amputated."

While Frank teetered between life and death upstairs, John Joseph suffered a fatal heart attack in September.  Because of Frank's precarious condition, he was not told of his brother's death and no notice of it appeared in the newspapers to assure the news would not be leaked to him.   John's funeral could not be held in the house, and mass was quietly celebrated in St. Francis Xavier's Church.  He was buried on his 37th birthday.  Frank and the public at large were informed about a week later.

The affluence of the Curran family was evidenced when Ellen J. Curran lost a bracelet on her way home from church.  Her notice in The New York Times on December 9, 1908 described it as "containing 11 diamonds and 2 rubies."  She offered a reward of more than $5,700 in today's money.

Ellen J. Curran sold the West 20th Street house in October 1914.  The Real Estate Record & Guide noted, "This is the first transfer of the property in 35 years."  The buyers were Edward H. Proudman, described by the Record & Guide as "a large holder of West Side investment property," and his wife Anna M. Proudman.

The Proudmans retained possession until April 1922 when they sold it to real estate operators Joseph and Michael Sheridan.  The brothers operated it as a rooming house, the residents of which were not always upstanding.

Among the Sheridans' initial tenants was 37-year-old John Kearns.  He and Thomas Cooley were arrested on December 2, 1922 "suspected of having committed a score of burglaries on the Upper East Side," according to policemen.  Etta Warren identified them as the pair who "stole $2,000 worth of jewels from her home" the previous week, according to The New York Herald.  Each was held on a staggering $25,000 bail--more than a third of a million dollars today.

Dorothy Miles lived in what was described as a "two-room kitchenette apartment" here during the Depression years.  On the morning of December 12, 1934 Mrs. Bessy Schwartz, the building's housekeeper who lived next door, was awakened by the smell of gas.  She traced it to Dorothy's door and used her passkey to enter.  The New York Sun reported, she found the body of the 40-year-old "seated on a chair by a one-burner gas stove, fed by a rubber tube from a wall jet.  Gas was flowing from the tube, which had been disconnected from the stove."  

A renovation completed in 1969 resulted in a single family home with an apartment in the basement.  In the mid-1970's the lower section was used as the Dharmadhatu, or Buddist Meditation Center.  The house proper was home to Dr. Joachim Weyl and his wife Martha Bowdith Weyl.  The couple had two daughters, Annemarie Carr and Christina Weyl.

Born in Zurich, Weyl's father, Professor Herman Weyl, was a colleague of Albert Einstein.  Joachim Weyl went on to achieve an impressive career of his own.  

He earned his Ph.D. at Princeton University in 1939, and taught at the University of Maryland and Indiana Universities before working for the  research group of the United States Navy's Bureau of Ordnance.  The New York Times noted, "When the atomic-bomb tests were staged on the island of Bikini, he was a participant, working in the bureau's mathematics branch."  He became director of the branch in 1949, was appointed director of the mathematics sciences division in 1955, became director of the Naval Analysis Group in 1958 and was named deputy chief and chief scientist in 1961.

In 1968 Dr. Weyl assumed the position of acting president and Dean of Sciences and Mathematics at Hunter College.  Around 1976 he resigned from Hunter for health reasons.  He died in the West 20th Street house on July 20, 1977 at the age of 62.

In 1999 the house was divided into two duplex apartments with a "recreation room" in the basement level.  The former horsewalk has been converted to a doorway and at some point in the late 19th century pressed metal cornices were applied over the lintels of the windows and doors.  

photographs by the author

LaptrinhX.com has no authorization to reuse the content of this blog.