The E. Dean Fuller House -- 121 Washington Place

In 1833 the two-block long road that ran from Washington Square West to West 4th Street was named Washington Place.  The street was already being developed and two years earlier builders John Nichols and William Carroll joined forces to erect four brick-faced homes here.  Nos. 121 through 127 were two-and-a-half stories tall and featured the expected architectural features of Federal-style middle-class homes—tall dormers rising from the peaked roofs, a simple fascia board below the cornice, Flemish bond brick, and handsome entrances with fluted columns.

No. 121 Washington Place was home to the Russell family by the 1870s.  Smith Lafayette Russell was the grandson of Abraham Russell, a founder of the Duane Street Methodist Episcopal Church.  Like his grandfather and father, Smith L. Russell remained highly involved with the church, which became the Duane Methodist Episcopal Church when it was moved to Hudson Street around 1862.  He owned rental properties and railroad and bank stocks, from which he earned handsome profits.

While perhaps not crowded, the Washington Place house was full.  Living here with Smith and his wife, Mary, were his unmarried sisters, Hester Mary Russell and Hilah E. Russell.  

Hester died in the house on Saturday morning, September 13, 1890.  Her funeral in the parlor was not held until 4:00 the following Wednesday.  Seven years later her sister, Hilah, died in her bed on Saturday, April 24, 1897.  Her funeral, too, would wait until 4:00 p.m. on the next Wednesday.

Two months later Smith Russell proudly addressed the congregation of the Duane Methodist Episcopal Church.  On November 21 the church’s 100^th anniversary was celebrated and a white marble tablet in memory of Abraham Russell was unveiled.

The aging man remained active in his religious and business interests through the turn of the century.  In 1900, for instance, he replaced the storefront on his Bedford Street business.  When he died on March 10, 1904 he was 80 years old.  His funeral, like those of his sisters, was held in the Washington Place house.

Russell's will shocked almost everyone, including the members of the Duane Episcopal Methodist Church, and was publicized nation-wide.  On April 6, the New-York Tribune noted, “When Smith Lafayette Russell died, on March 10, there was no great outpouring of religious and charitable societies at his funeral, yet he left almost all his estate to keep downtown for all time a church of which he had been an active member for many years.”

Russell left $50,000 to the church—nearly $1.5 million in 2016.  It was estimated to be the largest trust ever created for a church in New York City.  Included in the bequest was the Washington Place house.  Mary had two years to move out.  The Tribune reported, “this house his widow is to have free for two years; then it is to be rented and the rent paid to the Duane Church.”

Mary was not totally overlooked in the will; although she received nothing directly.  She was to receive the interest from the massive Duane Methodist Episcopal Church Sustentation Fund “for her support” until her death.

Mary Russell seems to have dragged her feet a bit in transferring the title to the trustees of the estate.  She waited until 1906, the year she was to vacate, to do so.  Hints that she had second thoughts about leaving Washington Place first arose on February 27 that year when she filed an “action to extend time to accept dower.”

The extension may have been a ploy to give her time to file her law suit against the trustees of her husband’s will.   The action claimed that Smith Russell had no legal right to dispose of his estate as he did.  The New York Times explained on June 8, 1906, “A question was raised as to the validity of the will under the law prohibiting the bequest of more than one-half an estate to charitable or religious purchases.”

Rather than go to court, the estate came to a compromise with Mary Russell.  She was to receive two-thirds of the amount left to the church that exceeded one-half of the estate.  The confrontation did not bruise the church’s memory of Smith Lafayette Russell.  On June 16, 1907 he received his own bronze tablet in the church.

Eight years earlier, New York society had been shocked when unexpected news arrived from Archahon, France where Mason Chichester Davidge and his wife, the former Clara Potter, were traveling.  The couple was still considered newlyweds, and Clara was well-known as the daughter of the powerful and charismatic New York Bishop Henry C. Potter.

On October 12, 1899, The New York Times reported, “The cable brings the news of the sudden death on Tuesday…of Mr. Mason C. Davidge…His death is a sad ending of a charming romance.”

Now in 1907, Clara Davidge purchased the former Russell house.  Her choice of Greenwich Village in which to live was no doubt prompted by her intense interest in the arts.  A painter herself, she was familiar with artists and literary figures including Willa Cather, Henry Fitch Taylor, and Samuel Clemens.  Sculptor William Zorach later remembered how she “was always discovering talented young artists.”  It was Clara who helped Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney in organizing her art gallery.

 

The parlor windows of No 121 (right) had been extended to the floor by the Russell family.  photo by H. Shobbrook Collins from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

With Henry Fitch Taylor she opened the Madison Gallery in 1908.  It was here that the initial planning meeting for the still-famous Armory Show of modern art was held.

In 1909, Clara discovered a new protégé in poet Edwin Arlington Robinson.  While Robinson was a recognized and published writer, he struggled with personal problems and alcohol.  On August 6, 1909, The Sun reported that Clara had hired architects Henry Killiam Murphy and Richard Henry Dans, Jr. to design a one story studio in her rear yard.  The quaint studio building, which cost Clara $850, was for Robinson.

Edwin Arlington Robinson moved into the quaint little building in November that year and, according to Scott Donaldson in his Edwin Arlington Robinson: A Poet’s Life, lived here for two years.  “Breakfast was brought to him, and he took his other meals where he wanted.  He was on call to appear at occasional social gatherings, but otherwise he was left undisturbed to write.”  It was from here that Robinson compiled his The Town Down the River, published in 1910.

That same year Clara Davidge took out a $24,000 mortgage on No. 121 and No. 123 next door.  It is possible she considered combining the two charming Federal houses, but if so the plans never came to pass.  Instead, in March 1912 she had a one-story extension built on No. 121 and eight months later leased the house to Henry P. Griffin.

The reason Clara left the Washington Place house may have been her engagement to Henry Fitch Taylor who was still managing the Madison Gallery.  They married in 1913.

Also married in 1913 were Frances Perkins—already active as a social reformer—and economist Paul C. Wilson.  They rented No. 121 from Clara Davidge Taylor following their honeymoon.  Frances described it in 1915, according to her biographer, Naomi Pasachoff, as “comfortable, though old fashioned.”  They hired a married German couple to run the household.

In the meantime the studio formerly inhabited by Edwin A. Robinson was leased to artist William E. Schumacher.  In 1913 he exhibited two works in the International Exhibition of Modern Art—Her Blue Skirt and The Lady, Maid and Child.

In 1913 Paul Wilson was on the newly-formed mayoral staff and his career was on an upward path.  His close ties with Mayor John Purroy Mitchel were evidenced following a high-level ceremony on June, 24 1915 which included the Governor, the Netherlands Consul-General and other dignitaries.  Immediately after the Mayor accepted a flag from the St. Nicolas Society, he confided that he was suffering an intense headache.  Instead of going to the mayoral mansion, The Sun reported, “He went to the home of one of his secretaries, Paul Wilson, at 121 Washington place, promising to return for the ceremonies of the afternoon if possible.”

But it was the career of Frances Perkins that would soar.   The couple had a daughter, Susanna, in 1916.  Paul’s emotional problems (labeled today by some as bipolar disorder) eventually prevented him from being able to work.  Frances went on to become the first female appointed to the United States Cabinet, serving as U.S. Secretary of Labor under Franklin D. Roosevelt.

The rear yard studio continued to be used by artists—Bayard Boyesen was leasing it in 1918 and Sacha Finkelstein was here in 1919.  That was the year that Clara Davidge Taylor sold 121 and 123 Washington Place to Oliver Harrison Smith.  The Sun reported on July 8 that he “will remodel the buildings for studios.”

Two years later a freak accident would end Clara’s colorful life.  For years she had suffered a back ailment which “caused her to walk unsteadily,” according to The New York Times.  In November 1921 she and her husband were staying in the guest cottage on her brother’s estate in Smithtown, Long Island.

On Sunday morning, November 6, the body of the 63-year-old was found face down in a marsh beside a private road on the property.  Although the water was only two or three inches deep, it appeared that Clara had lost her footing and fallen into the mud.  Unable to free herself, she drowned.

The studio apartments in 121 Washington Place saw a series of upscale tenants.  In 1920 Paul Caldwell Wilson was living here.  He was a graduate of the University of Chicago.  And George H. Soule, Jr. had an apartment that same year.  He had graduated from Yale in 1908.

But the building’s life as an apartment house would be short-lived.  In 1925, E. Dean Fuller and his wife initiated a gut-renovation of the charming home.  The nation was experiencing a fascination with early American architecture and history that began around the turn of the century.  A year earlier John D. Rockefeller, Jr. had begun the first steps in the massive restoration project at Williamsburg, Virginia.  Now the Fullers would transform 121 Washington Place from an authentic Federal period house to a Georgian reproduction.

The renovation took a full year.  The floor levels were altered, providing a street level entrance, and the façade was stripped away to be replaced with a striking four-story façade that would be at home in Philadelphia or Boston.

An impressive single-doored entrance was flanked by fluted Corinthian pilasters which upheld an elegant broken pediment with a stylized pineapple.  The second floor featured three arched openings with stone keystones and at the attic level three especially handsome dormers with arched windows were adorned with fluted pilasters.

Fuller, who put the title in his wife’s name, was an attorney and president of the Fuller-Sherman Company.  He made his fortune by specializing in Mexican and Latin American legal matters.  His firm had a branch office in Mexico City and in Tampico. 

So entrenched was his business there that he had earlier defied President Woodrow Wilson’s warning in 1913 that all Americans should leave Mexico.  In a letter to his clients on August 29 that year he said that he did not believe there was any danger to Americans and “secondly, because we do not care to abandon and lose our earnings, derived from many years of labor in the country…it is my duty to remain here.”

The facade, in February 2016, is partially obstructed by scaffolding as No. 123 undergoes a gut renovation.

Ninety years after the Fullers transformed the house, it remains a single-family home.  A metal plaque has been affixed to the façade reminding passers-by that Edwin Arlington Robinson once lived here.  

photographs by the author

A Tiny Surprise-- No. 407 Park Avenue

photograph by the author

In May 1906 Alice E. Schoenberger purchased the brownstone fronted house at No. 18 East 62^nd Street from George W. Jacobs.  The widow of John Hobson Schoenberger had inherited an estate of several million dollars.   Her carriages and horses were stabled in her private carriage house at No. 407 Park Avenue, between 54^th and 55^th Streets.

It was common for private stables to be located a few blocks away from the mansions of New York’s wealthy.  The unpleasant odors and noises were better kept at arm’s length.  What was surprising about Alice Schoenberger’s two-story brick carriage house was its location on Park Avenue rather than a side street.   The train tracks that had run down the middle of the avenue to Grand Central had been covered over in 1902 and the boulevard landscaped.  Now Park Avenue was changing from one of small buildings to a high-end residential thoroughfare.

In November 1910 Alice modernized her stable for the convenience of the stable boys or grooms who lived in the second floor.  She commissioned architect M. J. Callahan to do $1,000 in improvements, including a bath and pump house.

In 1912 a 12-story apartment building was completed at the northeast corner of Park Avenue and 54^th Street.  The new structure edged up against the south wall of Alice’s carriage house.  The architects had optimistically included openings along the northern wall, over the little stable building.  To protect the sunlight and air flooding those rooms, the owners, Swan Brown Company, purchased the stable from Alice Schoenberger in March, that same year.

The little carriage house had not been altered when this photo was taken.  Architectural Record (copyright expired)

The owners immediately renovated the stable as an upscale business building.  Later that year it was leased to Charles Duveen, owner of the Charles of London art gallery at No. 718 Fifth Avenue.   The opening of Duveen’s branch gallery here reflected the high-end tenor of Park Avenue by now.

The survival of the two-story building was ensured in April 1914 when Swan Brown Company accumulated the remainder of the block—Nos. 409, 411 and 413—and laid plans for another 12-story apartment building.  The Sun reported on April 7, 1914, “In order to insure light and air for both of these apartment houses the two story structure at 407…separating the present and proposed buildings, will remain as it is, except that the front will be remodeled.”

American Architect and Architecture, December 1916 (copyright expired)

And remodeled it was.  The architectural firm Cross & Cross (the architects of the new building next door) was hired to transform the carriage house to a modern garage.  The result was a limestone-clad neo-Classical structure that melded with the fashionable residences on the avenue.  A stone balustrade, carved panels of swags, and handsome bay and entrance doors provided an elegant air.  The second floor, where hay was once stored and stable boys lived, was converted to an upscale apartment.

A second-story apartment (below) was above the large garage area.  American Architect and Architecture, December 1916 (copyright expired)

The Park Avenue location was apparently far too valuable for the mere convenience of a garage.  In 1921 architect Alexander M. Bing of Bing & Bing converted the first floor to a store.  In doing so he simplified the Cross & Cross façade.   Show windows and a single doorway now sat within a rusticated base.  The second floor openings were replaced with Renaissance-inspired windows and a balconette.  Only the rooftop balustrade survived from the Cross & Cross design.

Interior decorators for the wealthy, Wood, Edey & Slater, moved into the building in June; and architect Charles K. Slayter moved his offices onto the second floor.

The string of renovations was not over.  In 1931 both floors became store space after the lingerie shop of Mlle. Marie leased the building.  The well-known boutique had been located at the corner of Madison Avenue and 55^th Street for a decade.

Only three years later the building was transformed again.  Traabert & Hoeffler, Inc., manufacturing jewelers, had signed a long-term lease on No. 407.  They hired architect J. M. Berlinger to renovate the interiors to accommodate the exclusive shop.

The New York Times, on October 26, 1934, announced “The main floor salon will be octagonal in shape and will have an overhanging balcony.  A skylight ten feet in diameter is another feature.”  The show windows were equipped with “invisible glass” to highlight the expensive merchandise.

Trabert & Hoeffer was founded in 1926 by former Metropolitan Opera singer William Howard Hoeffer and Duane Trabert.  Trabert died one year later and the firm continued under Hoeffer.  The Park Avenue store, like the upscale jewelers of Paris and London, had no counters.  Patrons entered a sitting room with small tables and pale blue velvet chairs on pale blue carpeting within pale blue walls.

During its first year on Park Avenue Trabert & Hoeffer acquired the Star of India sapphire.  The 563.35-carat gem was one of the largest in the world and nearly flawless.  In 1935 silent film star Douglas Fairbanks purchased it as a gift to Mary Pickford.  The jewel would later make international news when it was stolen from the American Museum of Natural History.

In the early hours of May 5, 1941 the “invisible glass” of the show windows proved to be an unexpected problem.  The New York Times reported “The trouble with the ‘invisible’ window of the jewelry display at 407 Park Avenue was that it was too invisible.”

At 4:30 that morning a pedestrian saw an “intoxicated man teetering” on Park Avenue, who stopped in front of the Trabert & Hoeffer display.  “He stuck his hand through the window and was last seen staggering north with an expensive clock hugged against his chest,” said the newspaper.  The drunk and the clock were not seen again.

William Howard Hoeffer retired in 1956 at the age of 64.  Paul Russo, who had been with the firm since 1935, purchased the business.  By now the store had had branches in Paris, Chicago, Beverly Hills, Palm Beach, Miami Beach and Atlantic City.  It was not the change in ownership that affected the jewelry store, it was the change in the neighborhood.

Many of the stylish apartment buildings along Park Avenue had given way to office buildings.  Even the building next door, on the southern corner, was renovated to offices in 1957.  Russo explained to a reporter in 1971 “When everything along here was apartment houses, we would have only three or four customers a day, but they would buy expensive pieces.”  Now he received 20 or more customers a day, workers in the banks and offices buildings, but they did not have the funds to purchase costly items.

Russo responded by offering small items like zodiac charms for as little at $15, and tie bars and other small items for about $30.  But the small sales, although there were many of them, were of little help when the new owner raised Trabert & Hoeffer’s rent from $33,000 a year, with taxes included, to $75,000 plus about $19,000 in real estate taxes.  Unable to cover the rent, Trabert & Hoeffer closed at the end of 1971, after 37 years in the little building.

The two-story shop where Park Avenue socialites had purchased diamonds and emeralds was converted to the Chicago Restaurant.  The eatery remained in the space for several decades until it was, once again, renovated.  In September 2005 Stefano Ricco, Italian men’s wear designer, opened a high-end boutique here.  In announcing the opening The Times said the store was “brimming with high-end silks.”

No. 407 hides between its much taller neighbors.  photo by The Real Deal

But the little building that started its life as a private carriage house survives, nestled between the two tall structures that saved it 100 years ago.

photo by the author

The Lost Geo. Q. Palmer Mansion -- No. 1 East 73rd Street

Architectural Record 1903 (copyright expired)

During the Civil War the Eastman family lived in a comfortable brownstone home at No. 1 East 73^rd Street, just off the corner of Fifth Avenue.  Central Park was still being constructed, the neighborhood was only sparsely developed, and young Joseph Eastman traveled daily downtown where he attended freshman classes in New York City College.

As the turn of the century neared, the neighborhood around the old Eastman home had filled with imposing mansions on Fifth Avenue and commodious rowhouses along the side streets.    Between the Eastman house and Central Park sat the home of millionaire Nicholas Fish Palmer, on the northeast corner of Fifth Avenue.

In 1896 that house was abuzz as plans were being laid for a socially-important wedding.  On April 5 The New York Times reported that “Several hundred invitations have been issued for the marriage of Miss Edna Earl Johnson, the eldest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Edward Hibbard Johnson, to George Quintard Palmer, a son of Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Fish Palmer of 922 Fifth Avenue.” 

The couple was married by George Palmer’s uncle, Bishop Quintard of Tennessee, in St. Agnes Chapel on West 92^nd Street.  The Times predicted beforehand that “It is probably that there will be a fine choral service in connection with the marriage ceremony.”  Afterward, the reception was held in Edna’s parents’ mansion at No. 601 Madison Avenue.  One journal noted that some of the guests “came across the continent for the ceremony.”

Shortly before their wedding, developer W. H. Hall had completed a row of four-story brownstone homes on East 76^th Street.  The newlyweds would settle into one of them.  Following their three-month honeymoon in Europe, they moved No. 9 East 76^th Street; a wedding gift from Edna’s mother.

George Quintard Palmer was ambitious and aggressive.  He would become President of the Alberger Pump Co.; Presdient of the Newburgh Ice Machine & Engine Co.; and Vice President and Director of the Alberger Condenser Company.  Conveniently for Palmer, the headquarters for all three corporations were located at No. 140 Cedar Street.

In March 1900 Palmer sold the 76^th Street house for $80,000.  He purchased the old Eastman house directly behind his childhood home.  It would be the scene of a glittering wedding reception eight months later.

Edna’s sister, Lillian Adele Johnson married Walter Stiles Hoyt on November 6 in St. James’s Church on Madison Avenue.  The fusion of two such socially prominent families filled the church, and Edna’s drawing rooms, with the cream of Manhattan society.

The old brownstones like No. 1 East 73^rd Street were architecturally out of favor by the time the Palmers moved in.  They were rapidly being demolished or remodeled into up-to-date homes.  Next door to Nicholas Palmer, for instance, Randolph Guggenheimer had just completed his white marble neo-Classical style mansion—a stark statement of modernity against the brownstone Palmer houses.

The Nicholas Palmer mansion at No. 922 Fifth Avenue where George grew up, was the last surviving brownstone on the block when this photograph was taken.  No. 1 E 73rd is, unseen, directly behind.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

Architectural Record explained, “the high-stoop brownstone dwellings are now in the way of being extremely unfashionable, both in design and plan; and a movement has set in which is gradually gathering momentum toward the substitution of reconstructed American basement dwellings for the old brownstone fronts.”  The American basement plan did away with the stoops and brought the entrance down to sidewalk level.

In 1902 George Q. Palmer demolished No. 1 East 73^rd Street and commissioned his cousin, George Carnegie Palmer of the architectural firm Palmer & Hornbostel, to design a modern residence.  The mansion, completed in 1903, was indeed the latest in residential taste.

Designed in the currently popular Beaux Arts style, the four-story limestone-clad mansion held its own with the palaces of Fifth Avenue.   It boasted all the bells and whistles of a Parisian town home.  The double-doored entrance, sitting above a shallow stoop of four stone steps, was crowned with full-relief stone swags falling from a carved wreath.   Two metal French-style bays bowed slightly out from the façade at the second floor, and grand dormers with round openings burst through the mansard roof.

The Architectural Record was pleased with Palmer & Hornbostel’s solution to what it considered a “narrow stone dwelling.”   The journal remarked in 1903 “This house is so arranged that room has been made for only two windows, and as these are merely repeated on each floor instead of being grouped together, and carried up through the façade as a dominant motive, the building gets a double-barreled look, the two halves being just alike except that one of them includes the entrance while the other does not.”

The Palmer house was admired by tourists, as well.  It was included in the Palatial Homes in the City of New York and Dwellers Therein—a sort of mansion map like the Homes of the Stars brochures available in Hollywood today.

The Palmers’ entertainments were always of note; but their 20^th anniversary celebration on April 23, 1912 was especially so, and seemed to be never-ending.  It started with a dinner at the Ritz-Carlton.  Guests then were treated to a theater party at the Winter Garden.  After that it was on to Sherry’s for supper and dancing.

The Palmers' country estate, Arden Farm, was in Port Chester, New York.  It shared 500 acres of land with the summer estates of his parents and of his brother, Francis.  The New-York Tribune called it “one of the show places of King Street.”

Francis F. Palmer and his family had gone to the White Mountains in August of 1915, leaving their country estate “The Alden,” in charge of the butler, August Miller, and two watchmen--one at night and another during the daytime hours.

On August 16 August Miller traveled to Manhattan with a suitcase.  He entered a pawn shop on Second Avenue and presented silverware and cut glass items.  The pawnbroker noticed that most of the articles were engraved F.F.P. and became suspicious.  He detained Miller while he secretly notified detectives. 

Confronted, Miller at first insisted he had been instructed to sell the valuables; but finally confessed.  “I wanted to get a little ready money on account of the illness and death of my wife,” he explained.   He said his wife had died 10 days earlier and that creditors were pressing him for money.  He only “borrowed” the items, which he would reclaim when he received his wife’s insurance money.

In Miller’s pockets were checks for eight trunks; and he admitted he had begun pawning stolen items since August 7, right after the family had left.  Because they could not reach Francis Palmer, reporters reached out to George.  The Times reported that he “was unwilling to believe that Miller could have been the robber until he had made an investigation at the home of his brother.” 

George Palmer could not find the watchmen who were supposed to be guarding the estate.  “I suppose Miller went in and helped himself to whatever he could find most conveniently,” he said.  “I cannot tell what has been taken.”

He also denounced the butler’s excuse.  “It is foolish for Miller to say he needed money because of the death of his wife.  My brother paid the expenses of Mrs. Miller in the hospital, and also, I believe, paid her burial expenses.”

Nearby, on the Post Road, was the country seat of Henry B. Davis.  On the evening of November 27, 1915 Davis’s teen-aged children, 17-year old Daniel and 19-year old Helen, were walking on the Post Road in thick fog.  George Quintard Palmer’s limousine was on the same road and his chauffeur was struggling to see.

The New York Times reported that the Davis teens “were walking home on the Post Road and were in front of their father’s estate when the Palmer car, driven by John Rupineck, a chauffeur, came up from behind them.”  Henry was in the middle of the road and his sister was slightly to the side.  In the dense fog, Rupineck was unable to see them until it was too late.

“Davis was knocked down with great force,” reported The Times.  Helen was brushed by the limo which spun her to the side of the road.  The heavy automobile passed over Daniel.

“Rupineck said he thought he had struck a wagon.  He found Miss Davis holding her brother’s head.”  The chauffeur took both teens to the nearest hospital; but Daniel died there later that night.

Less than a month after the tragedy, the first of the debutante entertainments for the Palmer’s daughter, Lillian took place.  Her grandmother, Mrs. Nicholas F. Palmer hosted a tea in the Fifth Avenue mansion on December 11, 1915.  It was followed by a dinner and theater party with additional guests.

The events continued on Christmas Eve when Lillian’s mother gave a dance at Sherry’s.  It was no small affair, prompting The New York Times to deem it “one of the largest dances of the Winter.”  Both ballroom floors were taken up for the event and two orchestras played.  Social functions at the time went until the early morning hours, and at 1:00 a.m. a seated supper was served.

Two days later Lillian’s engagement to Henry Coster Steers was announced.  The wedding took place on September 2, 1916 in Rye, New York.  Private train cars had been arranged to bring guests from Manhattan.  “The reception held at Alden Farm was a large one and tables for refreshments were placed on the verandas and lawn, and later there was dancing,” reported The Times.  The social status of the Palmers and Steers was evidenced by the guest list.  On the lawns of Alden Farm that afternoon were the Irving Brokaws, the Oliver Harrimans, Mrs. Whitelaw Reid, the Alford Schermerhorns, Mrs. Henry Havemeyer, the William Rockefellers and Percy Rockefeller, Mrs. William T. Sloan, Mr. and Mrs. Morton Plant, the James Harrimans and Mrs. Ansel Phelps, among others.

The East 73^rd Street address where Lillian Hoyt’s wedding reception was held became the scene of a debutante affair for her daughter.  Edna Palmer hosted the event for Edna Hoyt on January 8, 1920.  Twenty guests were invited to dinner and another 50 arrived later for dancing.

Edna Hoyt looks surprisingly baleful the year of her debut -- The Evening World, Friday January 9, 1920 (copyright expired)

About the time of Lillian’s debut, George Quintard Palmer stepped down from his various business enterprises.   But the move had nothing to do with retirement.  On January 19, 1921 the New-York Tribune reported the he “was formally elected president of the United States Food Products Corporation yesterday.”

Crime again visited the Port Chester estates later that year.  In November George Palmer opened “a wall safe which was adroitly hidden in his room by silken panels in the decorations,” according to the New-York Tribune.  He removed a pearl cravat pin; but almost immediately felt something was wrong.  The valuable pin was insured for $4,000—in the neighborhood of $53,000 today.

George took the pin to a jeweler who confirmed that the pearl had been removed and replaced with “a poor imitation.”  The contents of the safe were examined and one of Edna’s necklaces which had held 105 diamonds was discovered to be now set with pieces of glass.

The police were sure it was an inside job and all the servants were questioned.  Palmer, however, vouched for their honesty.

The mystery deepened three months later when detectives found the jeweler who had removed the stones.   Seemingly innocent, he said that jewelry dealer Harry Hirsch had brought in the items to be altered.  They then found Hirsch, who said he had got the necklace and pin from another dealer, Alex Rinaldo.

The trail continued to Rinaldo’s business.  He explained than an old customer of his, a woman, often came in to have her jewels replaced.  “This lady doesn’t like to take her jewelry about with her, so she has the real stones replaced in the settings with imitation stones.”  He gave them the customer’s address.

The Tribune reported “When the police went to the address that Rinaldo gave as that of the woman, they found a vacant lot.”

So it was back to Rinaldo.  The detectives arranged for him to visit the Palmer mansion under the guise of a guest so he could discern if any of the servants was the culprit.  He did not recognize any of them.

On April 22, 1922 the New-York Tribune noted “And there is rests, as much of a mystery as ever.”  George Quintard Palmer was upset with investigators and the dead-end case.  Eventually the Federal Insurance Company paid him the $29,000 covering the losses.

During the 1920s many of the grand mansions in the neighborhood were being razed for modern apartment buildings.  In 1930 George Palmer purchased No. 3 East 73^rd Street from Elizabeth G. Ballard, who lived across the street in No. 4.   The purchase was an effort to forestall such development on the block.  On August 21 The New York Times explained “They have mutually agreed that the premises at 1 and 3 East Seventy-third Street shall be restricted for a period of fifty years against the erection of a building thereon to a greater height than sixty feet above the curb level.”

George’s holdings increased in November 1931 when his widowed mother died in her Port Chester country estate.  The Times noted “She maintained a city house at 922 Fifth Avenue, New York, which she leaves to her son, George Quintard Palmer, if he wants it.”

On May 3, 1933 George Q. Palmer died at Alden Farm at the age of 59 of pneumonia.  Two years later, on April 10, 1935 Edna died there, also aged 59.  The future of the mansions at 73^rd Street and Fifth Avenue were suddenly in jeopardy.

In 1945 the Tischman Realty began accumulating properties.  Despite the private agreement between Palmer and Elizabeth Ballard, their fears were about to become reality.  In January 1946 they had assembled the site for an apartment building, which it sold as a package to developers.

George Palmers childhood home at No 922 Fifth Avenue, the Guggenheimer house next door, and the five-story mansion at No. 924 Fifth Avenue were included; as were Nos. 1 and 3 East 73^rd Street.  Construction on the 21-story white brick mid-century apartment designed by Sylvan Bien was started in 1949 and completed a year later.

photo City Realty