An Elegant Shell - Keith's 81st Street Theatre, Broadway at 81st Street

Born in Dundee, Scotland, Thomas W. Lamb arrived in New York in 1883 at the age of 12 and went on to study architecture at the Cooper Union.  Eventually, after working as a buildings inspector for the City, he established his architectural office, Thomas W. Lamb, Inc.  His first commission for a theater came in 1909 from William Fox, who was involved for the fledgling moving picture industry.  Within eight years he had designed three more motion picture theaters on Times Square.  

On March 26, 1913 The American Architect reported that Lamb had filed plans for a "3-sty theatre and stores to be erected on the corner of Broadway and 81st St. for the Fulton Building Co."  Construction costs were projected at $130,000, or about $3.4 million in today's terms.

Unlike Lamb's projects for William Fox, the 81st Street Theatre was intended mainly as a vaudeville venue, with "photo-plays" as an added attraction.  It was completed by the end of April the following year.  The Broadway section which held the lobby, ticket booths and lounges was three stories tall.  Its dignified neo-Classical style facade was executed in white terra cotta and featured soaring double-height arches flanked by columns and separated by tall Corinthian pilasters.  The auditorium directly behind was clad in dull red brick which purposely did not compete with the Broadway showpiece.

The theater opened on May 25, 1914, this ad calling "one of the finest vaudeville and photo-play theatres in New York City.  The Evening World, May 25, 1914 (copyright expired)

In its July 1914 issue Architecture and Building beamed "The new Eighty-First Street Theatre...which has just been opened, is decidedly a step forward in the erection and equipment of a modern vaudeville and photoplay house.  The amount of study which has been given and the taste displayed throughout this entire structure is evident, even to the exterior of the building which is of matt [sic] glaze white terra cotta."

The lobby was lit by solid brass sconces and hanging fixtures "of white glass in Adam's design."  Architecture and Building, July 1914 (copyright expired)

The lobby was paneled in Caen stone--a marble-like material--and its ceiling was decorated in "delicate clouded effects."  The critic said "On entering the theatre one is impressed with the harmony and refined richness of the entire color scheme."  The carpeting and the curtains were deep red.  The seats were upholstered in Spanish leather dyed to match.  Above the audience was a large mural depicting music and dance.  Architecture and Building commented that it "introduces just a sufficient amount of color to give a rich note to the entire color scheme."  

The main ceiling panel depicted Music and Dancing.  Architecture and Building, July 1914 (copyright expired)

Acts in vaudeville theaters changed often and patrons visited more than once a week.  The proprietors of the new theater quickly established a clever gimmick to keep its customers coming back.  On July 2, 1914 The Evening World reported "At the Eight-first Street Vaudeville and Motion Picture Theatre, the management lends umbrellas to patrons in rainy weather."

A highly unusual event took place on September 25, 1918.  Members of the Screen Club staged a benefit for its house fund.  Moving Pictures magazine reported "Many picture people were present.  The proceeds for the club came from the sale of souvenir programs and autographed photographs, also the difference in the advance of seat prices."

None of that would have prompted press coverage.  But then at 11:00 four audience members were selected and brought on stage.  While the audience watched, a motion picture was made.  Moving Pictures explained "The film was to be 500 feet in all, and will be shown at the theatre October 15-17."

The management was rethinking its programming by the spring of 1919.  In March Variety wrote "This theatre divides its program with a feature picture, playing three [vaudeville] acts at either side of the film.  Through that the theatre confesses that first it is a picture house rather than vaudeville, and secondly it prefers pictures."

On September 1 that year the management of the theater was turned over to B. F. Keith, who immediately changed the name to B. F. Keith's 81st Street Theatre.  That was the only initial change.  Vaudeville reported "The house will open with six acts and a picture, without a headline attraction billed."  There were two performances each day, "placing it in the big time class," said the trade journal.

Columbia Daily Spectator, December 3, 1919 (copyright expired)

Audiences showed their disapproval of vaudeville performers by tossing pennies.  On November 1, 1920 a group of well-dressed young men in the orchestra section were caught by booking agent Charles Stockhouse "casting pennies on the stage during the turn of Clayton and Lennie," as reported in Vaudeville.  Stockhouse went to the street and found a policeman, who arrested the youths.

As it turned out, they were not neighborhood rowdies, but college boys "home from school on an election day week-end vacation."  The night court judge "reprimanded the penny throwers, stating to them they stood in no different position before him, though they were sons of wealthy fathers, than any other culprit," reported Vaudeville.  "He warned them if a further complaint was lodged against either they would receive a jail sentence."

The neo-Classical design of the exterior was carried on within the auditorium.   Architecture and Building, July 1914 (copyright expired)

Patrons enjoyed the works of the best directors and most celebrated screen stars here.  On January 11, 1920, for instance, The New York Herald announced "At B. F. Keith's Eight-first Street Theatre the feature will be Cecil B. De Mille's 'Male and Female,' with Miss Gloria Swanson in the lead.  There will be six vaudeville features in addition to the feature."

Among the live acts in February 1928 was Rudy Vallée and his musical group, the Connecticut Yankees.   The crooner was the equivalent of a pop star of today and drew masses of screaming female fans.  The crush of devotees on opening night caused traffic to come to a halt on Broadway.  He mentioned the incident in his 1930 memoir, Vagabond Dreams Come True, calling it "the tremendous outburst we received."

Stores lined the street level in this 1915 photograph.  photo by Byron Company from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

At mid-century the venue had become a full-time motion picture theater, operated by Howard Hughes's R. K. O. Pictures.  The New York Times theater critic was less than thrilled with The Lisbon Story on September 6, 1951.  Saying that the film "arrived from over the water yesterday afternoon at the R.K.O. Eighty-first Street Theatre, British National Film, the company responsible did neither continent any great favor."  He concluded his critique saying "Anyone who pays good money to see this one deserves the boredom he'll get in return."

Then, in December 1953, CBS-TV announced it had leased the property.  The venue was converted to its first color television studio.  Among its most memorable productions here was the 1957 Rodgers & Hammerstein Cinderella starring Julie Andrews.  It was the only musical written by the partners expressly for television.

The elegant terra cotta building, now named the Reeves television studio, seemed doomed in November 1984 when it was sold to a developer for $11 million.  The Landmarks Conservancy pronounced the structure "an excellent example of early classical and elegant movie palace building form."  The following spring, however, The New York Times reported "But the landmarking effort was never pursued."

It was only the developers, Louis V. Greco, Jr. and Peter Gray, who had formed the Landmark Restorations Company three years earlier, who saved the front of the building.  When they purchased the building the television soap opera "Search for Tomorrow" was still being taped there.  The firm announced plans for a 22-story apartment tower, Renaissance West, designed by Beyer Blinder Belle behind the gutted Broadway section.  The New York Times remarked "Landmark Restorations has made a specialty of projects with a preservationist character, or at least a sensitivity to history."

At a time when developers are demolishing vintage structures at an alarming rate, it is refreshing that at least the shell of Thomas W. Lamb's handsome 1914 theater was preserved by one of them.

photographs by the author

The 1846 A. T. Stewart Building aka The Sun Building - 280 Broadway

photographer unknown, via WriteOpinions.com

Alexander Turney Stewart started business in 1823 with a small lace and linens shop in half a store in a little wooden building at No. 283 Broadway, between Church and Reade Streets.  He had a sleeping room in the rear.  The Irish immigrant possessed a genius for marketing--he came up with the concept of a department store, recognized the value of customer service rather than overcharging the buyer, and would later develop the idea of mail order business.

In his 1884 History of New York City, Benson J. Lossing wrote "Mr. Stewart, by great commercial sagacity and operating upon a cash basis, had accumulated a fortune sufficient to enable him to purchase Washington Hall, which had been used for many years as a hotel."   

Stewart's magnificent store would replace an equally magnificent structure.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Stewart paid $70,000 for the property--about $2.73 million today.  On the site, directly opposite the spot where he started out, he would erect "a magnificent marble structure" which Lossing called "the pioneer of marble, freestone, and iron stores on Broadway."  Designed by Joseph Trench and John B. Snook, it was also the first commercial building in the Italianate style.


The glistening white marble upper floors sat upon a storefront with Corinthian columns and expanses of plate glass show windows.  The tireless diarist and former mayor Philip Hone visited the store a few weeks before its completion.  "Mr. Stewart's splendid edifice, erected on the site of Washington Hall...is nearly finished, and his stock of dry goods will be exhibited on the shelves in a few days.  There is nothing in London or Paris to compare with this dry goods palace."  His sole problem was the plate glass show windows which he called a "useless piece of extravagance."  (He envisioned a boy's snowball producing disaster.)

The gleaming white structure stood out among brownstone and brick buildings.  Lights & Shadows of New York Life, 1872, (copyright expired)

The new emporium opened on September 21, 1846.  It quickly gained the popular moniker The Marble Palace, no doubt because of The Evening Post's describing, "the looming front of a marble palace, five stories high, decorated in the most beautiful style of art."  The newspaper added that "an incessant current of carriages may be seen approaching and leaving and as upon Jacob's ladder an unbroken file of angels, ascending and descending its marble steps."

The New York Herald reported "When we visited the store about 12 o'clock, we found a line of carriages drawn up in front reaching from Chambers to Reade streets.  Crowds of fashionable people were passing in and out, and all were warm in their expressions of gratification of all the beautiful and tasteful arrangements and architecture of the this whole building."

from the collection of the New York Public Library.

Well-dressed women entered into a rotunda decorated with wall and ceiling frescoes and dominated by a glass dome 80 feet above the floor, 70-feet in circumference.  An ornate chandelier, expansive mirrors imported from Paris and a graceful flight of stairs elevated the store above anything shoppers had seen before.  

Visiting A. T. Stewart's was as much a social activity as a shopping event.  A gallery encircled the rotunda for promenading--the popular Victorian ritual of seeing and being seen.  The Continental Monthly commented that the name Stewart evoked "a train of ideas, a marble front, plate glass, gorgeous drapery, legions of clerks, paradise of fashion, crowds of customers, and all the fascination of a day of shopping."

Stewart's extravagance stopped short of waste.  He is shown here chiding a clerk for using too much twine. Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly, June 1876 (copyright expired)

Tremendous success necessitated enlargements.  Additions were made in 1850-1851 and again the following year, both designed by Trench & Snook.   The enlargements doubled the size of the original building.   In 1853 A. T. Stewart's did $7 million in business.

The unrelenting northern movement of commerce prompted Stewart to erect an even larger retail store in 1862, engulfing the entire block of Broadway between East 9th and 10th Streets.  No. 280 Broadway now held the firm's wholesale store and its clothing manufacturing shops.  The building was enlarged again in 1872 by architect Frederick Schmidt.

In 1876 the store had grown with several additions.  Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly, June 1876 (copyright expired)

Alexander T. Stewart died on April 10, 1876.  Judge Henry Hilton, one of the executors of the Stewart estate, took control of the real estate.  Two years later, in November, The Carpet Trade Review reported "The down-town marble building on the corner of Broadway, Chambers and Reade Streets...is soon to be vacated."  The departments still housed in the building were moving north to the Broadway and 10th Street store.  Hilton let No. 280 remain vacant until 1884, when he added two floors, expanded along Chambers and Reade Streets, and converted the interior to offices.

King's Handbook of New York City pictured the 1884 expansion. (copyright expired)

In April 1885 The Presbyterian Home Missionary announced "After the first of May next our friends will please find us or address us at Stewart's Building, 280 Broadway."  The once-elegant retail palace saw a mish-mash of businesses for the next few years.  By 1888, however, the majority of the tenants were attorneys and legal firms.  In the 1890's the city moved several its departments in.  On February 19, 1896 The New York Times reported that the city was paying a total of $95,540 per year in rent here--in the neighborhood of $2.88 million today.

When war broke out in Europe, offices in No. 280 Broadway became home to the Army Recruiting Headquarters.  On June 6, 1917 it got a somewhat surprising neighbor.  The New York Times reported "On the first floor of 280 Broadway, separated only by a few doors from the headquarters of the United States Army recruiting in the city, the British Recruiting Mission began...to enlist British subjects for service with their own colors"

When this photograph was taken around 1917 the ground floor held a barber shop (far left), a tailor shop, and the Nicolas Restaurant.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

That same year Frank A. Munsey, owner of the New York Herald and The Evening Sun purchased the building.  The New York Times reported that he paid $4 million for the property.  In 1919, after significant interior renovations were made, he moved the newspapers' operations in.

The first threat to the marble structure came when Munsey announced in June 1922 his intentions "as soon as the cost of building materials and labor are reduced...to replace the building with a thoroughly modern structure."  Apparently those costs never came down to Munsey's liking and the building, by now known popularly as the Sun Building, survived.

The handsome three-faced clock was attached to the building's corner announcing that "The Sun, It Shines for All"  photo by Vinit Parmar

On June 13, 1927 America's hero, Charles "Lucky Lindy" Lindbergh was honored with a ticker-tape parade on Broadway to celebrate his solo flight across the Atlantic Ocean in the Spirit of St. Louis.  The festivities did not end there, of course.  On June 17 The New York Times reported "A brief interlude in Colonel Lindbergh's morning of automobiling yesterday was spent in the office of The Sun, 280 Broadway.  There he received a silver plaque bearing the editorial 'Lindbergh Flies Alone.'"  It was the headline which The Sun's readers had awoken to on May 21.

Surprisingly, when Frank A. Munsey died, he left the Sun Building to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  On January 2, 1928 the newspaper purchased the it from the museum.  In reporting the sale The Times reminded readers that "The property was largely reconstructed and thoroughly modernized when Mr. Munsey took it over for his newspapers."

With the onslaught of the Great Depression, The Sun management took steps to help the economy.  In September 1933 it announced it had placed a $500,000 order for 24 new printing presses.  The statement explained that the order was made "as a contribution not merely to the improvement of its own plant but also to the success of the re-employment and buy-now campaigns of the National Recovery Administration."

The Sun got an unlikely bedfellow when The Times of London opened its offices on the top floor.  A near riot broke out on June 8, 1939 when when the newspaper printed coverage of "the first visit of a reigning British monarch and his Queen to these former-British colonies," as described by The New York Times.

The 13,000 copies distributed to newsstands sold out by 9:00 in the morning.  The newspaper then sent out the 2,400 copies held back for mail requests, but those too, sold out quickly.  The Times reported "Then near pandemonium set in on the seventh floor of the Sun Building, 280 Broadway, where the London paper has its offices.  Hundreds of would-be customers were turned away."  Copies that normally sold for 5 cents were bringing $1 on the streets, "with plenty of takers."  The Times of London had to disconnect its telephones in order so that the staff could work.

Following the end of World War II Henry Modell, owner of the sporting goods chain, established the Modell Veteran Training Center in a retail space.  Mayor William O'Dwyer officially opened the facility on March 23, 1946.  The dual-purpose establishment both trained wounded and handicapped veterans for private life and sold surplus war supplies.

By 1949 the training center had been phased out, replaced by a Modell's store.  It was at the Broadway location that the mayor cut the cake to celebrate the chain's 60th anniversary.

The following year The Sun merged with The World-Telegram.  Management spokesmen informed the press that the merger "included only The Sun's name, good-will and circulation lists."  In other words, it was essentially the end of the Sun's operation.  And nearly the end of the Sun Building.

The property was purchased by a syndicate headed by Charles F. Noyes.  On January 26, 1951 it announced that a skyscraper would be erected on the site.  The New York Times reported "The new building will be about forty stories tall and will contain 1,000,000 square feet of space."

The New York Times published a rendering of the proposed building on January 27, 1951.

But, once again, the venerable structure survived.   In the fall of 1959 Modell's began a modernization of its storefront which dismayed at least one journalist.  The New York Times reported on October 3 "The facade of the Stewart Building at 280 Broadway, at Chambers Street, a landmark for 112 years will soon become a memory.  Workmen have begun removing the stone colonnades that will be replaced by a wide expanse of contemporary aluminum and glass panels."

In 1966 the city took possession of the building after it and the historic Tweed Courthouse next door were condemned for a 52-story tower designed by Edward Durell Stone.  That project stalled but, as Municipal Services Administrator John T. Carroll explained on April 22, 1975 it "is not legally buried."  Therefore the city decided "not to invest any funds in rehabilitation 280 Broadway" although city offices had been moved in.

The decision led to shameful consequences.  On August 5, 1981 The New York Times columnist Michael Goodwin wrote "The white marble facade still gleams in the sun and the cast-iron columns above the street recall a grand past, but, inside, 280 Broadway is full of the signs of a grim present."

Plaster fell from the ceilings of the halls, window frames were on the verge of falling out, and large cracks appeared in the walls.  After rainfalls, ceiling tiles would be found on the floor.  An administrator in one department pointed out a partitioned-off area in an office.  "The building workers told us not to use this part of the room because it's so dangerous."

Any chance of demolition was squelched in October 1986 when the No. 280 Broadway was designated a New York City landmark.  Protection of the structure did not mean improvement of the interior conditions, however.  In February 1994 the newly-appointed Commissioner of General Services, William J. Diamond, visited the building.  The word he used to described it was "atrocious."

Referring to the landmark designation he told The New York Times architecture journalist David W. Dunlap, it was "saved but saved for what?  You're essentially in an office slum."  He suggested selling the building to a private developer for renovation and restoration, pointing out that the still-intact rotunda "could be turned into a food court."

photograph by Beyond My Ken

Ideas like his were bounced around for three years before a $37.2 million renovation was initiated.  Completed in 1999 it now housed the city offices like the Department of Buildings.  The renovations, designed by the architectural firm of Beyer Blinder Bell, resulted in retail space on the ground floor and offices above.  The rotunda, now called an atrium, included five skylights above the central court.

A Surviving Shell -- No. 31 East 74th Street

The first decade following the end of the Civil War saw an explosion of speculative development on the Upper East Side.  The Styles family—S. M. Styles, Frederick W. Styles and C. H. Styles—worked semi-independently on their building projects.  S. M. Styles, who doubled as a contractor and architect, brought his sons, John E. and Richard K. into his operation to form S. M. Styles & Sons.

In June 1876 C. H. Styles planned nine brownstone rowhouses that wrapped around the northeast corner of Madison Avenue and 74^th Street.  Each would cost $12,000 to build—about a quarter of a million dollars in 2016 terms.  He commissioned S. M. Styles as his architect.

C. H. Styles seems to have had problems selling one of the homes.  On March 11, 1877 an advertisement in The New York Herald offered “For sale cheap—Call and see that fine four story brown stone high stoop house No. 31 East 74^th st.; will be sold at a bargain.”

A year later, on March 3, 1878 the developer was willing to nearly break even on the still vacant house.  An advertisement explained “$5,000 cash will buy an elegant four story House, cabinet finish.”

Despite the bargain price, No. 31 East 74^th Street was still unsold the following year.  On March 23, 1879 Styles offered “Finest located four story brown stone house in this city for the price, in perfect order throughout.”

Another prolific developer, William W. Hall, purchased the house in 1896.  By now Fifth Avenue in the 70s was filling with lavish mansions; and the side streets followed the trend.  The outdated two-decade old brownstones were rapidly being demolished or remodeled into more fashionable dwellings.  Hall hired architect Alexander M. Welch to transform No. 31 into a modern home acceptable to an upper class owner.

The renovations were completed in 1897.  Somewhat surprisingly, Hall and his architect seem to have focused on interior improvements.  The brownstone stoop was retained even when the “English basement” plan had fallen out of favor; and the old 1877 design was only vaguely veiled by the neo-Renaissance motifs.  The second floor sprouted an angled oriel which supported a third-floor balcony.  The arched openings of the top floor received handsome carved framing and an updated, projecting copper cornice was added.

The renovations, while outwardly cosmetic, were successful.  William Hall quickly sold the remodeled 16-foot wide house to Raymond Lesher.  He was a partner with his brothers Arthur and Nathaniel in the “clothiers’ supplies” importing firm of Lesher, Whitman & Company.

Lesher and his wife did not remain in the house for long.  On June 27, 1901 he sold it to William S. Wyckoff for $46,000.  Wyckoff’s wife, Jennie, had died a year earlier, on February 5, 1900.  The New York Times described him as “a well-preserved, tall man.” 

Wyckoff had one grown son, Clarence, who had his own bachelor apartment in the Hotel Manhattan “when not at Palm Beach, Fla., or abroad,” according to a newspaper.  Like his son, William Wyckoff spent more and more time abroad.  He had two sisters, one in England and the other in Scotland.  Around 1905 his attention was focused on a Prussian woman living in London, Sophie Manasse.

The 60-year old’s romance culminated in April 1906 in a surprising coincidence.  Clarence P. Wyckoff returned to his apartment on the evening of April 5 to find a telegram from his father who was in London.  It revealed that William had applied to the Archbishop of Canterbury for a “special license” for the New Yorker and the Prussian to marry.

The New York Times reported “After he read it he looked up with a smile and said: ‘H’m, I’m to be married myself tomorrow.’”  The father and son, “both well-known members of society,” would miss one another’s nearly simultaneous weddings.

It was probably William S. Wyckoff’s overseas romance that had prompted him to sell No. 31 East 74^th Street a year earlier.  In January 1905 Newman Erb, Vice President of the Pere Marquette Railroad Company, purchased the house for his daughter.

The generous gift was not a wedding present.  Fannie Erb had married Irving Meade Dittenhoefer on November 18, 1896—the same year that William Hall began the renovations.  The 42-year old Dittenhoefer had graduated from the Columbia School of Law in 1885 and was now a partner in the law firm of Dittenhoefer, Gerber James.

The couple had one son, Newman Erb Dittenhoefer, and like other modern and wealthy families, they traveled widely.  On May 1, 1908 Irving wrote to a former classmate “I have traveled extensively in Europe, having made automobile trips in Italy, France and Germany of over 15,000 miles.”

Unlike the previous owners, Irving and Fannie stayed for nearly two decades.  They sold the house in October 1919 to the 44-year old physician, Dr. Frederick Knowles and his 34-year old wife Sophia.  Living with the Knowles were Charles Stevens, the butler, and his English-born wife, Mahlik, the cook.

Knowles established his doctor’s office in the house.  When elevator operator John Martina Feirera collapsed at the corner of Madison Avenue and 74^th Street on February 20, 1933, a market employee carried him to the Knowles house.  Sadly, the 30-year old died on the stoop before the doctor could be called out.

Knowles, now 71, sold the house in April 1946 to real estate operator Norman. S. Riesenfeld.   He quickly resold it to the World Federalists, U.S.A. and the residence became known as World Government House.  The goal of the global World Federalist Movement was to create “a new world order” that could prevent another international war.

Later that year, on November 11, 1946, the Duke and Duchess of Windsor arrived on the Queen Elizabeth.  Another passenger on the ship was heading to East 74^th Street.  The New York Times reported “Ulric Nesbet, British representative of the Federal Union, who has designed a world flag, came here to confer with members of World Government House, 31 East Seventy-fourth Street.”

World Government House lasted only a few years at the address.  In 1949 the house was converted to apartments and the stoop was removed.  Among the most interesting of the businesses in the newly-formed commercial space throughout the upcoming decades was Alaska Shop—Gallery of Eskimo Art which occupied the store in the early 1980s.

In 2010 No. 31 East 74^th Street got its stoop back—at a price.  CareOne, a firm that operates nursing and assisted-living facilities, hired restoration architects Beyer Blinder Belle and contractors New Line Structures, Inc. to “reinvent the interiors” (as described by CEO Daniel E. Straus) of six brownstones on Madison Avenue, along with No. 31 and its neighbor, the 33-foot wide Grosvenor Atterbury-designed mansion at No. 33.

Completed in 2015, the project called 33 East 74^th Street was no nursing home.  As renovations were underway on November 2, 2013, The New York Times journalist Alison Gregor explained “Demolishing all the brownstone interiors enabled Mr. Straus to create the layouts that he believes will best appeal to his target buyers.”  Those target buyers could expect to pay from $14 million to more than $30 million for the three- to five-bedroom condo units.

The completed project retained the vintage facades, but gutted the interiors.  No. 31 can be glimpsed behind the tree at right.  photo by Douglas Elliman Real Estate

Externally, No. 31 with its replacement stoop looks little changed, other than a cleaning-up and replacement windows.  But it is a stage set.  Behind the veneer nothing remains of the house C. H. Styles could not sell and which William Hall fancied up 20 years later.

photographs by the author

The Century Association Building -- No. 109-111 East 15th Street

photo by Alice Lum

In 1847 when The Century club was founded—taking its name from the 100 invited members—Union Square was developing as a most fashionable residential district.  The park was ringed with fine brick homes and churches which spilled onto the side streets; all except for East 15^th Street where five industrial buildings created a stark exception.

The five buildings were faced by two wooden homes across the street to the north, one being No. 42 East 15^th Street.  That two-and-a-half story house was purchased in 1855 by Isaac Lewis, a builder.  Before long the house and the block would change dramatically.

In 1857 The Century club become incorporated as the Century Association; a social organization for authors, artists and dabblers in the fine arts.  The Sun would praise the club as having “a purpose to serve,” unlike those which had for their “principal end the affording to young men of conveniences for idle amusement.”  Instead, the proper Victorian gentlemen set as their goal “plain living and high thinking.”

The club bounced from location to location until that year when it increased its membership to 250.  With a permanent clubhouse now deemed a necessity, the Century purchased No. 42 from Lewis for $24,000.

Club member and architect Joseph C. Wells set about to renovate the wooden house into a proper clubhouse.  The $11,000 renovations resulted in a Cinderella-like transformation.  The frame house became an Italian palazzo with a balustraded staircase and pedimented windows.

Throughout the Civil War years the club continued to grow and expand its activities.  The clubhouse, by 1866, was no longer adequate for its functions and meetings.  A committee was formed to decide whether to move or reconstruct the building again. 

It was a time of financial uncertainty for exclusive men’s clubs.   The eminent Union Club was reported to be “deep in debt” by The Sun and The New York Club had heavily borrowed to keep afloat.   Before long both the Athenaeum and the Eclectic clubs would close due to financial hardship.

Considering its finances, the Century opted to renovate.   The partners in the architectural firm of Gambrill & Post, Charles D. Gambrill and George B. Post, were both club members.  In May of the following year Gambrill submitted his proposal renovations.

For some unexplained reason, part of Gambrill’s design—an extension to the rear of the clubhouse—was quickly completed; but the interior alterations and the new façade sat on the drafting table.  The new extension provided for a billiard room on the main floor and an art gallery above.

During the two years while the plans collected dust, Post left the architectural firm and Gambrill took on Henry Hobson Richardson who, like Post, would go on to be ranked among America’s preeminent 19^th century architects.

Finally in 1869 construction began under plans by Gambrill & Richardson.  The amount of input Richardson had in the final designs is undocumented; but whichever architect was responsible, the result was noteworthy.

Gone was the Italian palazzo with its stone balustraded fences and Renaissance-styled windows.  In its place appeared a brick and stone neo-Grec structure with a formal countenance that reflected the propriety of the club members.  The third floor attic was raised to form a full-floor mansard.  Stone courses doubled as structural support and horizontal design elements.  The completed renovations cost $21,000—nearly the full price the club paid for the building originally.

Iron cresting originally lined the slate, fish-scale tiled mansard roof. -- photo by Alice Lum

The renovated clubhouse was deemed by The Sun “a handsome and commodious house…where its members believed it had found a permanent place of abode.”

The Century Association would see America’s brightest literary and artistic figures sign their membership rolls throughout the years.  The unending list included actor Edwin Booth, artists Albert Bierstadt, Frederick Church, Charles C. Tiffany and Augustus Saint Gaudens.  Politicians like Grover Cleveland, Theodore Roosevelt and Hamilton Fish were members, as were William Cullen Bryant, all three members of the architectural firm McKim, Mead and White; and millionaires John Jacob Astor, Jr., Cornelius Vanderbilt and J. Pierpont Morgan.

By 1887 when the guidebook “How to Know New York City” called the Century Association "a literary, artistic, and aesthetic club, with…a large library, and a picture-gallery,” membership had grown to 600. 

That same year sculptor Auguste Bartholdi arrived in New York to help raise money for the pedestal of his “Liberty Enlightening the World.”  The colossal statue had been presented to the United States as a gift from the people of France; however it might well have included a tag “base not included.”  Bartholdi understandably chose the Century Association building for his January 2, 1877 fund raising speech.

As the century entered its last decade Union Square had become a center of commerce, the splendid homes having been razed for business buildings.   Although the Century Association had expected that what was by now numbered No. 109-111 East 15^th Street would be its “permanent abode;” on January 12, 1890 The Sun reported that “the conservative old club has finally determined to follow the march of things up town.”

One year later, almost to the day, the Century, now with 800 members, took possession of its McKim, Mead & White-designed clubhouse on West 43^rd Street.  Before the end of the year The United States Brewers’ Association had taken over the old building.

The Association had been formed in 1862 and now had a membership of about 1,000 throughout the U.S.  The group, according to "King’s Handbook of New York City" in 1892 sought “protection of its industry from prohibitory and unduly stringent laws, and cooperatives with the Government in the execution of the laws pertaining to malt liquors.”

"King's Handbook of New York City" published the above photograph in 1892 (copyright expired)

The Association put a spin on its product, asserting to Victorian morality that the drinking of beer reduced the indulgence in alcohol.  “It is contended by the Association that the industry it represents is in the interest of temperance and morality, as its effect is to diminish the consumption of intoxicating liquors,” said the handbook.

Unlike the Century Association before it, the Brewers’ Association had political goals on its agenda.  In December 1898 a “congress” of brewers from across the United States was held to call upon Congress to abolish the war tax on beer.  During the Spanish-American War both the saloon keeper and the consumer paid a tax to help offset war expenses.

“Now the peace treaty is about to be signed and the first thing that should be done to relieve the people is the abolishment of this tax,” said a speaker.   “The people” were common Americans, he contended.  “The tax affects the farmer as well as the brewer.”

The Sun was more interested in the members than the purpose of the congress.   When millionaires were mentioned, it was bankers and railroad moguls who came to mind.  But many beer brewers had amassed enormous fortunes.  “This will be the first time in the history of this or any other city where so many millionaires have gathered at one hall at the same time,” the newspaper predicted.  It estimated the aggregate worth of the delegates to be over $400 million.

The ire of dignified socialites and religious leaders was no doubt raised when they read accounts of a meeting here on December 18, 1901.  A resolution was passed that read, in part, “It is the sense of this board that a law permitting in the City of New York the sale of liquors, ales, wine and beer on Sunday, between the hours of 1 P. M. and 11 P. M., is one consonant with the needs of this community.”

Justice William Travers Jerome spoke saying “Once realizing the facts, I do not see how any thinking man can believe that I am not right in my view of this question.  Some 200,000 of the population of this city want to be able to secure liquor on Sunday, and I do not see that it is my province, or any one else’s to prescribe a code of morals for so considerable a body of citizens, whatever may be our personal desires as to drinking on Sundays.”

It was just the sort of added stimulation the Prohibitionists were looking for, and 1901 saw increased activity in the Temperance movement.

In 1915 the Brewers’ Association fired back at the Temperance leaders, publishing an advertisement disguising itself as an educational list in “The World Almanac & Book of Facts.”   Included in the long list were assertions that:

·         A marked decrease in drunkenness has been noted as a result of the increased sales of beer.

·         Prohibition has gained little or no headway in New York State notwithstanding the persistent and continued activities on the part of the various prohibition organizations.

·         The traffic in alcoholic beverages pays an annual direct tax of nearly $20,000,000 to the State of New York in addition to other taxes; more than one-third of the entire State Budget.

The advertisement did not work.

In September 1918 the Fuel Administration issued an order prohibiting the brewing of beer after December 1.  A meeting at the United States Brewers’ Association building was immediately called.  The ramifications of the order were far-reaching.

There were 9.673 saloons in the five boroughs.  Their closing would mean tens of thousands of New Yorkers would lose their employment--there were at the time around 25,000 bartenders alone.  The breweries had enormous reserve stocks of grain and other ingredients; not to mention the thousands of barrels of beer stored in gigantic tanks.

Then, on January 16, 1919, the 18^th Amendment to the Constitution was ratified prohibiting the “manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquors” and on October 28 of that year the Volstead Act was passed to enforce the new laws. 

The Women’s Christian Temperance Union, the major player in the movement, had gotten its way.  In doing so they left jobless “middle-aged and elderly men still in the business in which they have always worked,” as described by The New York Times.

They also put an end to the United States Brewers’ Association.

For some time the Interboro Mutual Indemnity Insurance Company, originally organized in 1914 as the Brewers Mutual Indemnity Insurance Company, stayed on in the building.  Throughout the 20th century it saw a variety of uses.  In the 1920s it became home to the Manhattan chapter of the Sons of Italy Hall, and in the 1930s the Galicia Sporting Club.

Eventually No. 109-111 East 15^th Street was occupied by the New York Joint Board of Shirt, Leisurewear, Robe and Sportswear Workers Union; then an Asian-American trading company that also ran a dry cleaning shop in the basement.

In 1996 a year-long restoration and renovation of the building was initiated by Beyer Blinder Belle, transforming the former clubhouse into the Century Center for the Performing Arts.  The new facility included a 248-seat theater, a studio and a ballroom.

After a decade it was taken over as the New York City production facility for the world’s largest religious television network, Trinity Broadcasting Network.  The company offers 24 hours of commercial-free programming aimed at Protestant, Catholic and Jewish audiences.

With minor alterations (the iron cresting of the roof is gone, as are the entrance steps, and the basement windows are now doorways), the distinguished clubhouse is mainly unchanged.  It was designated a New York City landmark in 1993.