The Lost George Blumenthal Mansion - 23 West 53rd Street

 

photo by Wurts Bros., from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

By the early 1880s the stretch of Fifth Avenue in the 50's was lined with exquisite palaces, like the Vanderbilt family's "Triple Palace" between 51st and 52nd Streets.  Their millionaire owners would spend decades ensuring that no commercial structures sullied the exclusive enclave.  But one sneaked in.

A high-end apartment house was erected at 21-23 West 53rd Street, what the Record & Guide deemed, "the sole deviation from private houses in this block."  In 1900 the property owners on the block paid the operator $19,000 "so that no change to the apartment house...would be made," said the article.

In 1903 banker George Blumenthal eliminated the potential problem.  He purchased the apartment building, demolished it, and began construction on a double-wide mansion that would challenge any along the avenue for attention.  His limestone-faced Beaux Arts style chateau was designed by the architectural firm of Hunt & Hunt.  The limestone-faced chateau was completed in 1904.  

The three arched openings within the rusticated ground floor were adorned with bearded portrait keystones.  The height of the second floor windows suggest grandeur of the rooms on this level.  The design was dominated by the massive mansard, the dormers of which sat just above the stone pediments of the windows below.  Two massive decorative finials crowned the roof.  The Sun would later say the mansion "is considered to be the finest example of a French residence in America."

Born in Germany in 1858, Blumenthal was a banker, the head of the American branch of Lazard Frères.  He was, as well, the president of Mount Sinai Hospital and a trustee of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  He and his wife, the former Florence Meyer, had one son, George Jr.  Tragically, two years after moving into the West 53rd Street residence the boy died at the age of seven.

On April 7, 1916, Florence hosted a meeting attended by "prominent men and women," according to The New York Times.  Although the United States was not yet involved in World War I, socialites were doing their part in providing relief.  Those who gathered in the mansion that afternoon learned of the 300,000 French war orphans who "need assistance to preserve their lives." 

The meeting would possibly be the last event in the house while the Blumenthals lived there.  Five years earlier, on August 26, 1911, the Record & Guide had reported that Trowbridge & Livingston had filed plans for a new residence at the corner of Park Avenue and 70th Street.  Now it was completed.  Two months before Florence's meeting, The New York Press had reported, "Mrs. Burke Roche is the buyer of the George Blumenthal residence at No. 23 West Fifty-third street...Mrs. Roche will occupy the house as soon as title is passed."

Born Frances Ellen Work in 1857, she had married James Boothby Burke Roche, later the 3rd Baron Fermoy, on September 22, 1880.  (Frances's great-granddaughter would be Diana, Princess of Wales.)  Four children notwithstanding, the couple's marriage had not succeeded.  Frances divorced Roche for desertion in 1891.  By now she was a major figure in Manhattan society.  Moving into the 53rd Street mansion with her were her two twin sons, Edmund Maurice and Francis George.

Frances Burke Roche is seated to the left.  photograph from the collection of the New York Public Library

The Sun described the twins as "two of the most popular young men in the social and business life of New York," and noted, "The Roche brothers, each of whom inherited a fortune from his grandfather, the late Frank Work, are so much alike physically and facially that even their most intimate friends have difficulty in telling them apart."

Francis George Burke Roche (L) and his brother Edmund Maurice Burke Roche.  The Sun, September 12, 1920 (copyright expired)

Like Florence Blumenthal, Frances Burke Roche's frequent entertainments in the mansion were sometimes related to war relief.  On February 3, 1917 she hosted "a concert and entertainment for the benefit of the Lafayette Fund," as reported by the New-York Tribune.  

When America entered the war, so did Frances's sons.  Interestingly, while the twins had done everything in unison throughout their lives, including where they went to school and what clubs they joined, one joined the army and the other the navy.

While they were away, Frances received titled houseguests.  On May 18, 1919, the New York Herald reported the Hon. Edmund and Mrs. Burke Roche, the uncles of the twins, were visiting.  Despite their noble connections abroad, the pair had lived in Canada for nearly four decades.

On September 1, 1920 Frances's former husband became Baron Fermoy.  And now, the issue of succession arose.  Because Edmund was one minute older than his brother, he was in line to be the next baron.  On September 12, 1920, The Sun explained, "The inexorable laws of the British peerage are such that if fate makes one a British peer or son of a peer, citizenship in an alien land cannot change his status as such."  The article concluded, "the older of the twin brothers must eventually become the fourth Baron Fermoy whether he likes it or not."

The issue would have to be decided sooner than anyone expected.  Two months after James Boothby Burke Roche had taken the title of baron, he died.  On November 1, according to the Oswego Daily Palladium, Edmund received a cable informing him of his father's death.  The young man had a serious decision to make.  On one hand, renouncing his citizenship would result in his losing his share of his grandfather's estate.  (The Oswego Daily Palladium called Frank Work "one of the wealthiest New York bankers of his day.")  One the other hand, the peerage came with a 21,000 acre estate in Ireland and "an old mansion at Rockbarton, Limerick."

When a New-York Tribune reporter visited the West 53rd Street mansion on November 1, Edmund waffled.  He said, "I am an American citizen and I intend to vote tomorrow.  I have been brought up as an American citizen."  But he added, "my family is a very old one and naturally there is a sense of duty attached to the matter--something that might be termed a call, don't you see?"  

Edmund took his time in deciding.  Then, on February 8, 1921 he announced that he would surrender his American citizenship in order to receive the British title of the Fourth Baron Fermoy.  The New-York Tribune reported, "Mr. Roche said that he had been urged to this action by relatives, and probably would go to Ireland within two months to prove his claim to the title and to the possession of large holdings in Wales and in County Cork, Ireland."  

Edmund's theft of the social spotlight from his mother was a temporary thing.  The following month the New-York Tribune reported, "Mrs. Burke Roche, of 23 West Fifty-third Street, will sail for Europe next month to pass the summer abroad."  For the next two years, she kept the society reporters busy following her movements to her country home in Wappinger Falls, New York, to Newport, and to Europe, and in reporting on her numerous entertainments in the 53rd Street mansion.

Then, on November 12, 1923, The Sun titled an article, "Mrs. Frances Burke Roche Sells $750,000 Residence."  She had sold it to Howard Ehrich, who quickly resold it in January.  In reporting that sale, The Sun noted that the buyer "will make alterations."

Those modifications resulted in club rooms throughout the former mansion.  On August 14, 1925. The Sun reported that the Criterion Club would be be moving in that October.

The Criterion Club was a prestigious Jewish men's club, lesser known than the Harmonie and the Progress Clubs.  Like those, it was formed out of necessity.  In the 19th century, as the sons of Manhattan millionaires grew to manhood, membership in at least one—but preferably several—of the exclusive men’s clubs was expected.  Passing the rigid selection process proved one's good breeding and social status, but most of all money.  None of those qualifications mattered much, however, if the candidate were Jewish.  And so social clubs for Jewish millionaires were formed.

In 1938 the site of several nearby mansions had been razed to make way for the Museum of Modern Art.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

By 1944 the building was shared by the Horizon Club and The Theater Guild.  On April 15 that year The New York Times announced, "The Philharmonic Women's Club and members of the Philharmonic-Symphony Orchestra will give a supper party followed by a satiric playlet tomorrow night at the Horizon Club...to mark the close of the orchestra's regular subscription season in the afternoon at Carnegie Hall." 

On March 8, 1946 The New York Sun reported on a birthday party held at The Theater Guild for Charles Jehlinger, head of the American Academy of Dramatic Arts.  Among those present were Edna Ferber, Oscar Hammerstein II, Arlene Francis, Ruth Weston, Ezra Stone, and other luminaries from the theater.

The Theater Guild was founded in 1919.  To celebrate its 35th season, an exhibition was held here.  On display, according to The New York Times on April 9, 1953, "will be hundreds of stage photographs, miniature stag settings, programs and other memorabilia."

The Museum of Modern Art can be seen at the right.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Museum of Modern Art had been located at 11 West 53rd Street since 1939.  As the complex expanded, it acquired the former Blumenthal mansion, using it in part as its bookstore.  But the French Renaissance chateau made a strange bedfellow with its starkly 20th century neighbor.  On March 16, 1971, Grace Glueck of The New York Times wrote that for two years "the museum had considered erecting a high-rise structure on the site."

The trustees and directors continued to consider plans for five years.  Then, in 1976, the Museum of Modern Art announced its Museum Tower project.  With no designation from the recently formed Landmarks Preservation Commission and only tepid pushback from New Yorkers, the Blumenthal mansion was demolished to make way for the 52-story structure, completed in 1982.

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

The Lost Amos Pinchot House - 1021 Park Avenue

 

photo by Wurts Bros, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In 1905 Amos Richards Eno Pinchot was hired as an apprentice lobbyist for President Theodore Roosevelt.  Born in Paris into wealth and privilege, Pinchot had grown up at his family's 3,000-acre estate, Grey Towers, in Pennsylvania; and in their Gramercy Park townhome.

The mansion at Grey Towers was designed by Richard Morris Hunt, from the collection Skylands

Pinchot studied law at the New York Law School and had been admitted to the New York bar in 1900.  That year, on November 14, he married Gertrude Minturn, daughter of shipping mogul Robert Bowne Minturn, Jr.  They had two children, Rosamond and Gifford (who was named after Gifford Pinchot, Amos's brother, the first director of the United States Forest Service).

Amos Richards Eno Pinchot, from the collection of the Library of Congress

When the train tracks that ran down the middle of Park Avenue were covered over in 1902, Park Avenue--hitherto a marginal residential street--suddenly had grand potential.  In May 1906, Pinchot purchased the two wooden structures and the brick stable that occupied the northeast corner of Park Avenue of 85th Street as the site of his new mansion.  It was a pioneering move that required additional precautions.  To insure that his investment was secure, he bought up as much of the surrounding properties as possible; selling them only to wealthy buyers, with the stipulation that the plots be used for private house construction.

Pinchot hired the firm of Hunt & Hunt to design his residence.   (The architects were the sons of Richard Morris Hunt, who had designed Grey Towers.)  The limestone-faced, Renaissance Revival mansion rose four stories on a plot 51 by 102 feet.  Pinchot's bold move in building here was reflected in a comment four years later, on August 231, 1909, in the Record & Guide.  "Except for Mr. Amos R. E. Pinchot's house, at the northeast cor. of 85th st. in Park av., there are very few high-class residences north of 80th st. in Park av."

The Brickbuilder, March 1910 (copyright expired)

Following the death of his father, James Wallace Pinchot, in 1908, Pinchot's mother and sister would be frequent house guests.  Mary Jane Eno Pinchot, who lived in Washington D.C., was the daughter of New York City's wealthiest real estate developer, Amos Eno.  Pinchot's sister, Antoinette, was the wife of Lord Alan Johnstone of England.

On March 1, 1908, the New-York Tribune reported, "Mrs. James Pinchot and her daughter, Lady Johnstone, went to New York to-night to visit Mrs. Pinchot's son, at No. 1021 Park avenue, for a week.  On Saturday Lady Johnstone will sail for Europe on the Lusitania and Mrs. Pinchot will return to Washington."

And on December 23 that year, the newspaper reported "Mrs. James W. Pinchot went to New York to-day to spend the Christmas holidays with her son, Amos Pinchot, at No. 1021 Park avenue."

Mary was visiting in June 1911 when she suffered an appendicitis attack.  She was operated upon in the Park Avenue mansion, and on June 23 The Sun noted, "She is believed to be practically out of danger."  And later that year, in December, The New York Times announced, "Mrs. Amos R. Pinchot is giving a dinner this evening, followed by music, at her residence, 1,021 Park Avenue, for Lady Johnstone, who was Miss Pinchot."

The last entertainment for Lady Johnstone and, perhaps, the last social function the Pinchots would give in the mansion, occurred on November 25, 1913.  The New York Times reported, "Mrs. Amos R. Eno Pinchot gave a large dance last night at her residence, 1,021 Park Avenue, for her sister-in-law, Lady Alan Johnstone."

Things had become strained between Amos and Gertrude by then.  On October 3, 1914 the Record & Guide reported that Pinchot had leased "the large furnished house" to Vincent Astor and his bride, Helen Dinsmore Huntington.  Astor's father, John Jacob Astor IV had perished on the RMS Titanic two years earlier, making him among the richest men in the world.

In reporting on the lease, The New York Times noted that the house, "has a large ballroom and is splendidly furnished, having many rare objects of art...It is probable that they will do considerable entertaining this Winter.  They will be seen frequently at the opera."

The ballroom mentioned by The New York Times (labelled "salon" in the floorplans), engulfed the Park Avenue side of the second floor.  The Brickbuilder, March 1910 (copyright expired)

The first "formal entertainment" given by the Astors in the mansion was on February 9, 1915.  The Sun noted, "It will be a dinner and dance, but not a large party."  A less social gathering occurred on February 2, 1916, when the couple invited an unexpected mix of guests for lunch.  Around the table that afternoon were Theodore Roosevelt, Diamond Jim Brady, Mrs. John Astor, Morris Knowles (of the United States Steel Corporation), Ida Tarbell, and Grant La Farge.

Helen Astor had visited Barren Island the previous summer "and saw the shacks in which the Italian laborers live with their families," explained The Sun.  She had become deeply concerned, and the article said that during lunch "the problems of housing the immigrant was discussed."

Pinchot leased the mansion the following social season to Margaret Emerson Vanderbilt, whose husband, Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt, had died on the torpedoed RMS Lusitania on May 7, 1915.  The Record & Guide reported she would be paying $25,000 rent for the year, or about $528,000 in today's money.

The Pinchot family would not return to 1021 Park Avenue.  (The couple's marriage continued to deteriorate and they divorced in 1918.)  Amos Pinchot sold 1021 to Edward Reilly Stettinius and his wife, Judith Wimbish Carrington.  On November 4, 1916 the Record & Guide reported that they would occupy the house "when the present lease...expires next spring."  Stettinius was the president of the Diamond Match Company in Ohio, but was relocating his family to New York to become a partner in the J. P. Morgan banking firm.  He and Judith had four children, William Carrington, Isabelle, Edward Jr., and Elizabeth Carrington.

As it turned out, Stettinius would see little of the Park Avenue mansion for a few years.  The entry of the United States into World War I changed life for the family.  Stettinius, who had been in the chief buyer of war supplies for the Allies through his position at J. P. Morgan, was now employed by the War Department.  He was put in charge of procuring and producing United States Army supplies.  A year after purchasing 1021 Park Avenue, he was made Assistant Secretary of War.

The family necessarily acquired a townhouse in Washington D.C. and Judith found herself mostly in charge of the family as her husband routinely went abroad.  On November 3, 1918, for instance, The Sun reported, "Mrs. Edward R. Stettinius and the Misses Isabel and Betty Stettinius , who were at the White Sulphur Springs for the summer, will not be in Washington D.C. again.  They are now at their home 1021 Park avenue, for the winter.  Mr. Stettinius is abroad in the interest of the Government."

Edward Stettinius was overseas in the fall of 1919 when he received a telegram that Judith was gravely ill.  It came at a time when the influenza pandemic was taking more victims than the war.  He arrived in New York on the French liner La France on October 8.  The Sun reported, "The ship came into quarantine too late to be passed, but Mr. Stettinius...received permission to leave the vessel in a Customs tug."  An automobile was waiting for him at the Battery, which rushed him to the Park Avenue residence.  "There he found Mrs. Stettinius was very much improved," said the article.

Edward would have been sailing home soon, in any event.  Isabel's wedding to John B. Marsh, took place in St. James's Church on Madison Avenue the following month, on November 19, 1919.  The Sun reported, "Owing to the recent illness of Mrs. Stettinius the reception, which will follow at the family home, 1021 Park avenue, will be small."

On March 30, 1921 William was married to Achsah Ridgely Petre in St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Baltimore.

The political and social ties Edward Stettinius had made during the war were now reflected in the entertainments held on Park Avenue.  On February 20, 1921, the New-York Tribune reported, "Mr. and Mrs. Edward R. Stettinius will give a luncheon party to-day in their home...for Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Hoover.  A number of distinguished persons will be among the guests."  And on April 4 that year the couple hosted a dinner party for General John J. Pershing and other distinguished guests.

Edward Reilly Stettinius, The American Review of Reviews, 1918 (copyright expired)

The following winter social season was an important one.  Elizabeth was to be introduced to society.  But as the December entertainments approached, she was stricken with an attack of appendicitis and in November underwent surgery.  Happily, on November 26 the New-York Tribune reported she was "progressing so favorably that is had not been found necessary to change the date of their proposed dance.  It will be held on the night of December 27."

Fortunately for Betty, as she was known, she was indeed recuperated enough to be feted with a tea in the mansion on the afternoon of December 6, followed by the dance and tea at the Plaza hotel on December 27.

The Stettinius country home was in Locust Valley, Long Island.  It was there that Edward R. Stettinius died on September 3, 1925.  The New York Times commented, "Mr. Stettinius labored so prodigiously for the Allies and later for this country that he undermined his health, and when he underwent an operation for appendicitis in August, 1920, he never fully recovered his strength."  His funeral was held in Locust Valley.

Stettinius left the bulk of his estate to Judith.  On September 16, 1925 The New York Times remarked, "The value was not disclosed, but it is estimated at more than $10,000,000."  (That amount would translate to about $155 million in 2022.)

The following year, on May 15, Edward Jr. married Virginia Gordon Wallace.  Like his father, he would serve his country.  He became the United States Secretary of State under Presidents Franklin D. Roosevelt and Harry S. Truman, and served as U. S. Ambassador to the United Nations from 1945 to 1946.

In 1928, three years after Edward Reilly Stettinius's death and just 21 years after it was built, the magnificent limestone mansion was demolished.  It was replaced by an Anthony Campagna designed apartment building that survives.

image via compass.com

photograph by the author

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

Hunt & Hunt's 1911 1st Precinct -- 100 Old Slip

photo by Alice Lum

On New Year’s Day, 1883, newly-elected mayor Franklin Edsen set out on a campaign of civic improvement.  Among his proposals was the demolition of outdated, rundown police station houses and the erection of new ones.  Only eight months later, on August 11, The Record and Guide announced that “The work of driving piles for the foundation of the new First Precinct Station House has been completed; the building will occupy the site of the old Franklin Market in Old Slip.”  The paper said the cost of the new building would be about $47,000—a considerable $1 million today.

The pilings mentioned by The Record and Guide were necessary because of the site’s proximity to the East River.  However the location between Water Street and South Street on Old Slip was well chosen.  The waterfront bustled with activity as ships were loaded and unloaded.  The sailors from these vessels came ashore looking for entertainment—and they found it.

In 1882 James D. McCabe described Water Street.  “Strains of music float out into the night air, and about the doors and along the sidewalks stand groups of hideous women, waiting to entice sailors into these hells, where they are made drunk with drugged liquors, robbed of their money and valuables, and turned helpless into the streets.  Groups of drunken and foul-mouthed men and boys lounge about the street, bandying vile jests with the women, and often insulting respectable passers-by.”

At the time architects of police buildings and schools were less concerned about functionality and working conditions than the structures' outward appearance.  The new 1^st Precinct, most likely designed by Nathaniel Bush, attempted to correct those problems—but according to some critics it missed the mark regarding handsome architecture.  On March 15, 1884 The Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide spit its criticism of the new 1^st Precinct Station House.

“Some injudicious praises in the daily papers of a station house lately finished in Old Slip for the headquarters of the First Precinct induced the hope that this might constitute an exception to the rule  Unhappily it is an unusually atrocious example of the rule, being in fact more offensive than the ordinary station house in the degree in which it is bigger and more pretentious.  The internal disposition and the arrangements for ventilation and sanitation are fondly dwelt upon by the reporters.  We are willing to believe that the station house is all that can be desired in these respects, and that practically it serves its purpose admirable.  But our business is with its architecture, which is worse than a minus quantity being positively offensive.”

The building survived almost a quarter of a century before architects Hunt & Hunt were called in to design a replacement.  If critics had panned the previous building; they would have nothing to complain about in the Hunt brothers’ design.

The new building commanded attention The American Architect, September 24, 1913 (copyright expired)

Completed in 1911 after two years of construction, it was a four-story Italian palazzo.  Three floors of smooth limestone blocks contrasted with the planar top story, capped by a striking cornice trimmed with copper antefixae.  High above the entrance the architects placed a large carved cartouche containing the Seal of the City of New York and the date of construction.

Hunt & Hunt laid out the station house based on functionality -- The American Architect, September 24, 1913 (copyright expired)

The men of the 1^st Precinct found themselves not only fighting waterfront crime; but a myriad of problems related to its location.  Officer William J. McKeever attempted to stop a runaway horse in April 1919, succeeding only after being dragged.  But many of the precinct’s responses would be more dire.

photo by Alice Lum

The Socialist Movement had already grown roots in America by the time the station house was completed; but the 1917 Russian Revolution added fire to the passion of the working class who organized unions and strikes to make their voices heard.

On July 18, 1919, just as the workforce was preparing to go home for the day, the crews of the Municipal ferryboats to Staten Island walked off the job in a bid for increased pay.  Then, as now, New Yorkers depended on public transportation and a near riot ensued.

The New-York Tribune reported the following morning “thousands of Staten Islanders stood in the rain outside the slips, looking longingly at the far-away bulk of their homeland and wondering more and more audibly how they were ever going to get to it.  The crowd increased so rapidly in size and exasperation that reserves from the First Precinct were called to handle it.”

The newspaper described the chaos faced by the policemen.  “These held the crowd back and kept shouting advice to the would-be passengers, urging them to go to Staten Island by way of Brooklyn or New Jersey.  A few took the counsel.  Most of them remained.”

It was a tense time in New York.  Anarchist groups like the Black Hand terrorized civilians with letter and package bombs on an almost weekly basis.  Only two months before the ferry strike, the First Precinct detectives examined a suspicious package, thought to be a bomb.

The package was taken by detectives to the First Precinct on May 1, “and there, in the presence of numerous photographers, reporters and policemen, cautiously proceeded to open it,” reported the New-York Tribune.  This time it was a false alarm.  “It proved to be legislative manual sent to Judge Philbin from the office of the Secretary of State of New York.”

Prohibition would not officially take effect until January 17, 1920; but bootleggers were busy months before in preparation.  During the first week of January Officer Emil Zipf “discovered Gus Eronson, a sailor on a ship from Brockton, Mass., who was found in the Cortlandt Street terminal station in a peculiar condition,” recounted The Evening World on January 6.

Zipf immediately identified the problem:  “wood alcohol.”

It took a doctor, Zipf, and four special policemen to get the belligerent drunk into an ambulance.  In court he complained to Assistant District Attorney McGuire “I’d be all right if they left me alone and didn’t beat me up.”

He insisted “But I only had three drinks of one-half of one percent beer.”

As the sailor had been fingerprinted, Captain Lee sarcastically asked him, “How do you take your beer?  Straight or with seltzer.”

“Out of the bottle,” was the reply.

On the night of May 15, 1928 at around 11:30 Patrolman Edward M. Lee jumped into the East River off Coenties Slip to save a man from drowning. He earned a commendation for his bravery.  Another officer, Ferdinand A. Berthold, would gain even more attention for his actions that year.

 

The neighborhood around the station house was still gritty when Berthold and Lee were working here -- photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWW3TT66&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

On the same day that Lee plunged into the river, five gunmen held up Needham Sweets Shops and made off with $2,785.  Berthold pursued them in a patrol car.  The robbers fired their guns at the officer, but he fired back only once because, he told reporters later “the streets were so crowded.”

Berthold was correct in his assessing the danger.  The single bullet he fired “hit the robbers’ car, ricocheted and struck [Stephen J.] Porter as he came out of his building,” reported The New York Times.  The businessman was struck in the leg and although his wound was superficial, he was taken to the Broad Street Hospital for treatment.

When the chase reached Washington Street, the gunmen abandoned their car and fled in separate directions.  Four of the robbers escaped, but Officer Berthold arrested  24-year old Horatio Sjambati, alias James Moreno.  The Times said “The prisoner has a police record as a burglar, according to the police.”

Within a month Berthold was back in the newspapers.  Like Officer Lee, he jumped into the East River to save a drowning man—except this rescue seems to have been a bit more troublesome.  The New York Times reported “Patrolman Ferdinand A. Berthold, who weighs 140 pounds, dived into the East River off Old Slip last night and rescued a drowning man, six feet tall and weighing 225 pounds.”

The heavy-set man had fallen off Pier 9 and the screams of passersby caught the officer’s attention.  “Berthold discarded his cap, coat and shoes, jumped into the water and was soon pulling the victim to shore,” said the newspaper.

But it was not all that simple.  While he waited for the Police Emergency Squad to arrive, Berthold hung onto the piling of the dock with one hand and onto the semi-conscious “burden” with the other.  Finally the squad lowered a rope ladder and pulled the men to safety.  Bernard Thornton, 53-years old, was taken to Bellevue Hospital.  He was the captain of a coal barge currently in dry dock.

“Berthold went home after being treated for submersion,” said the newspaper.

Obviously, not all the responses by 1^st Precinct police would end so positively.  At 10:50 on the morning of September 23, 1937, Patrolman John H. A. Wilson attempted to apprehend three armed hold-up men at No. 65 Fulton Street.  The heroic officer was shot and died two days later.

photo by Alice Lum

In 1973 Chief Inspector Michael J. Codd “shut a chapter of police history,” according to David W. Dunlap of The New York Times, when he gave the order “Close Old Slip.”  Once called “the most important police district in the world” by A. E. Costello in his 1885 Out Police Protectors, the 62-year old station house had completed its service.

The closing came after a regrettable period of corruption was discovered in 1972.  Suspected of taking bribes from street vendors and construction contractors, 97 of the 110 officers in the 1^st Precinct were transferred.  The 1^st Precinct was moved to the old 4^th Precinct station house on Ericsson Place (coincidentally a similar Italian Renaissance building constructed a year after the 1^st Precinct).

Two decades later, in 1993, the vacant building was taken over as headquarters of the Landmarks Preservation Commission.  The Commission remained in the building for eight years; when a $4 million renovation transformed it to the New York City Police Museum.

A private, non-profit organization, the museum offers the public a window into the history of the police department.  In addition to countless historic articles; visitors are given a chance to test their skills in a virtual firing range and to sit in a jail cell.

photo by Alice Lum

Dwarfed by the modern skyscrapers that have risen around it, Hunt & Hunt’s magnificent and monumental 1^st Precinct Station House survives handsomely intact.

The 1909 Lost Belmont Mansion -- No. 477 Madison Avenue

The newly-completed mansion would be the scene of innumerable Suffragist Movement events -- photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWBH1QLC&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=3

Although a Southern girl, Alva Erskine Smith grew up spending summers in Newport and traveling through Europe.  Her family had moved to New York city in 1857 when she was four years old and she later attended a private boarding school in Paris.  She met fabulously wealthy William Kissam Vanderbilt at a party thrown for Consuelo Yznaga, who was one of her best friends.  Vanderbilt most likely did not realize he had met a woman unlike nearly any other in New York society.

The couple was married on April 20, 1875 in Calvary Church and would go on to have three children.  Opinionated, self-confident and determined, Alva reared daughter Consuelo in a strict, perhaps domineering manner, with the singular goal of an advantageous marriage.  But among her greatest passions was building.

A friend famously said “she loved nothing better than to be knee deep in mortar,” and shortly after marrying Vanderbilt she hired Richard Morris Hunt to design the massive French Renaissance mansion, the “Petite Chateau,” at No. 660 Fifth Avenue.  Hunt worked closely with his new patron during the four-year project and they would become good friends.  Subsequently he designed the Queen Anne-style summer estate on Long Island, “Idle Hour,” and the palatial $11 million “Marble House,” in Newport.

In 1895, three years after Marble House was completed, Alva did the unthinkable among Manhattan society.  She filed for divorce.  Charging William with infidelity, she walked away with a settlement in excess of $10 million and several estates—including, of course, Marble House which was already in her name.

Divorce, while scandalous, was not entirely unheard of in the highest ranks of society.  In 1882 an even greater scandal had fed gossip along Fifth Avenue when the 24-year old son of August Belmont married Sara Swan Whiting.  Sara, it seems, was pregnant.  Before the year was out Oliver Hazard Perry Belmont and the new mother were divorced.

Belmont and William Vanderbilt had been close friends.  Belmont’s Newport cottage, Belcourt Castle (also designed by Hunt), was not far from Marble House.  Both men were avid horse breeders and racers and Belmont accompanied the Vanderbilts on at least two extended voyages on the Vanderbilt yacht, the Alva.  There are some who think that he and Alva were already making eyes at one another before the divorce.

Social eyebrows were raised once again when, on January 11, 1896—not a year after her divorce—Alva and Oliver were married.  It appears that if Alva’s first marriage was at least in part socially-motivated; this time she married for love.

A few years later, in July 1905, The Era Magazine would comment about the delicacies of social protocol for divorced couples.  “Mr. William K. Vanderbilt, Sr. and his divorced wife, Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont, have met quite frequently ever since their divorce, and both attended their son’s wedding to Miss Fair.  They greet each other in a conventional fashion, and neither is at all moved by the encounter.  At one time both were under the same roof in London as guests of their daughter, the Duchess of Marlborough, while Mr. Belmont put up at a hotel not far distant.”

Alva Belmont as she appeared in 1905.  The Era Magazine, July 1905 (copyright expired)

On the corner of Madison Avenue and 51^st Street sat the mansion of John H. Guion, son of S. B. Guion, the founder of the Guion steamship line.  Guion died in the house at the age of 28 after a short illness.  In May 1902 Oliver Belmont purchased the house, along with addition land along 51^st Street.   

Belmont would not live to see the mansion on what The New York Times called his “residential site” completed.  On June 10, 1908 The Evening World reported “Oliver H. P. Belmont died at 6:34 A. M. to-day at his villa near Hempstead.”

A week earlier, Belmont had undergone an appendicitis operation.  The following day peritonitis set in and within days his death was expected.  “Mrs. Belmont and her children and daughter-in-law were called to his bedside at 5 o’clock and were with him until the last,” said the newspaper.  Belmont left an estate estimated at around $5 million.

The Madison Avenue mansion was quickly rising at the time.  Richard Morris Hunt had died in 1895 and Alva had turned to his sons, Hunt & Hunt, to design the three-story neo-classical residence.  Clad in limestone, its imperious façade featured a rusticated base, two story pilasters capped with ornate Corinthian capitals at the second and third floors, and a handsome stone balustrade above the cornice. 

Just as the house neared completion, a grieving Alva made a change.  On May 7, 1909 Hunt & Hunt filed plans “for enlarging the new four-story house for Mrs. Alva B. Belmont, at Madison Avenue and Fifty-first Street.”  The New York Times reported that “a four-story annex [is] to be added to the east in Fifty-first Street.

Alva’s extension was a soaring neo-Gothic hall, called The Armory, 85 feet long by 24 feet wide.  It was a copy of the Gothic Room in Belcourt Castle where Oliver Belmont had displayed his extensive collection of Medieval armor and artifacts.  This hall, however, was intended for the use of Alva’s new passion: the Suffrage Movement.

“Since the house has been started,” she told a reporter, “I have become an ardent suffragist, and it seemed to me that I could serve the cause in no better way than by providing a large hall in which prominent suffragists might lecture during the Winter.  So I asked my architect to arrange for this armory, which will be decorated with the armor which hangs in a similar hall in Mr. Belmont’s old Newport home, Belcourt.  I shall, of course, use the room for other purposes, but my incentive in building it was to devote it to the cause of woman’s suffrage.”

Typically, the headstrong Alva Vanderbilt Belmont did not go into her new mission with trepidation.  She told the reporter “I am convinced that more militant methods must be adopted in this country if we hope to succeed.”

She already had plans for the Madison Avenue mansion’s role in the movement.  “Just so soon as the lectures which we have planned for Marble House are out of the way we shall start in to work on plans for the Fall campaign.”

“This Winter we hope to have a lecture very nearly every day.  Some prominent speaker will be heard in some part of New York at least six days in the week, and the subject will always be ‘Votes for Women.’ The Armory in my new home will be opened for the purpose as often as it is needed.”

Symbolically, the great stained glass window on the marble stairway to the Armory, 23 feet by 18 feet, depicted Joan of Arc.  “Two Gothic windows in the armory, with battle scenes, are at one end, and in the east wall there is an immense fireplace, eight feet wide, adorned with carved medieval figures,” reported The Times.  “The floor is of marble and the vaulted stone ceiling eliminates the need of pillars.  The iron chandeliers were brought from Belcourt.”

The rest of the house was done in the Adams “and Grinley Gibbons” styles.  The dining room was paneled in white marble, off the marble entrance hall.  “The relief is in green marble, the doors and window muntins are of dark green bronze, and the fireplace, with columns and pediment, is massive  Of more interest to New Yorkers is the ceiling.”

A room in the mansion seems to be set up for a meeting.  Collier's Magazine, October 28, 1916 (copyright expired)

When the old Fifth Avenue Hotel was demolished, Hunt & Hunt had salvaged the ceiling frescoes.  “One of these, by Robert Reid, was a symbolical Manhattan, a goddess figure sitting on a dais. This was obtained by Mr. Hunt and installed in the Belmont dining room.  The allegorical Manhattan was put immediately above the fireplace, and more by change than deign her throne in the painting is a twin piece in design to the columned fireplace.”

The architects placed secret doors throughout the mansion.  One of them allowed servants to enter the dining room unseen; another connected two libraries.  “A small library is opposite the dining room from the entrance foyer, and as there is a hidden door to the pantry from the dining room, so there is a spring-opened door in a section of shelving leading from the little library to a larger library.  From that room a door leads to the stairs that wind to the armory above.”

The flurry of lectures began in The Armory in the Fall on 1909 and later, in December, Alva (who by now was exclusively referred to as Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont) heard of the plight of four young shirtwaist workers who had been arrested while picketing.

The girls were being held on $100 bail each, with an additional $400 surety.  Alva arranged with her lawyer to provide bond as she hurried to Night Court to view the proceedings. On December 20, 1909 The New York Times reported that “Mrs. Belmont’s lawyer, who had been in court all night, had with him deeds that he was to use as bail bonds.  But when the four girls came to trial the lawyer could not be found.”

Alva Belmont approached the magistrate.  “Very well, if he is not here I can give my home at 477 Madison Avenue as bond for these girls to appear on Monday night.”

Magistrate Butts did not know who the woman standing before him was and asked her if she was positive that her house was worth the $800.

Alva thought so.  “I think it is.  It is valued at $400,000.  There may be a mortgage on it for $100,000.”

The Times reported “the girls were freed on this bail.”

As the summer of 1912 began, Alva had another idea.  She had already purchased two houses at Nos. 13 and 15 East 41^st Street and had them converted to a clubhouse, the Political Equality Association, for suffrage purposes.  She had spent $320,000 on that project, not including the furnishings.  Now she envisioned a hotel for visiting suffragists.

On July 14, 1912 The Sun asked readers, “What will Mrs. Oliver Hazard Perry Belmont do next?  She has already been active in farming, club work, a number of unusual philanthropies, entertaining on a large scale and all sorts of endeavors in behalf of woman suffrage, from waiting on tables to marching and public speaking and the expenditure of a great deal of money for the good of the cause, and not just in the last week it has been announced that she is to run a miniature hotel.”

“Mrs. Belmont feels sure that the enterprise will be a success because of the number of suffragists from out of town who make a point of visiting her club’s headquarters when in New York.  Many of these have said that they wished the club had sleeping rooms where they could stay over night or longer if need be.”

Not everyone was pleased with Alva Belmont’s ardent suffragist activities.  Early in April 1912 she received an envelope in the mail which she ignored for a day or two.  “Then she opened it,” reported The New York Times on April 6, “and a small white envelope dropped out.  This bore a warning to the servants not to open it, and was marked private and personal.”

Inside was an arcane message which made little sense, at the bottom of which was drawn a dagger and cross.  Alva reported the matter to authories and before long exaggerated stories spread that the neighborhood was shut down by police.  According to The Times, “There was no excitement in the neighborhood of Mrs. Belmont’s white marble home at 477 Madison Avenue when a reporter called there yesterday afternoon.  Stories had appeared in the afternoon to the effect that policemen and Secret Service men were on guard there, and that Mrs. Belmont was afraid to go out and the police wouldn’t let anybody go in.”

There may have been a shadow of truth to Alva’s reported fright—or at least caution.  When a Times reporter rang the bell of No. 477 Madison Avenue, “A dark-skinned servitor, clad in a gaudy turban, opened the door wide and smiled benignly.  He said that Mrs. Belmont had moved to her country home on Long Island where she would spend the Summer.”

An editorial that appeared in London’s Forum in June 1913 used scathing satire to discredit Alva’s near-militant suffragist stands.  “If Mrs. Belmont, however, really craves an opportunity of proving her personal courage by conducting a hunger strike, no difficulties will be placed in her way…The most convenient place for a hunger strike is obviously at home, where the sufferer can have every attention.

“If Mrs. Belmont’s plans include arson, a similar principle may be applied, and much inconvenience avoided.  The militant suffragettes in England burnt down the house of Lady White—an old lady entirely unconnected with the movement, either for or against.  This was regarded as a masterpiece of strategy.  But if the object in view be merely destruction, and the consequent advertisement, it is surely unnecessary to select the house of an inoffensive and innocent lady when one has an excellent and perfectly suitable house of one’s own.”

The stalwart Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont was unmoved.  In April 1914 she traveled to Washington DC to complete the final arrangements for the suffrage ball of which she was chairman.  Later, as the summer season drew to a close, she decided to remain in Newport into the fall to keep the momentum of the Marble House lectures going.

“Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont will not open her country place in Hempstead, L. I., this fall, but will remain instead at Marble House until late in the season,” reported the National Courier.  “there will be many suffrage conferences held in the Chinese tea house between now and the time when Marble House is closed for the winter.”

In 1915 Alva had begun showing her age.  photograph from the collection of the Library of Congress

Around six months later, on March 31, 1915 “one of the most important suffrage meetings held in New York in a long time,” according to The New York Times, was held in the Madison Avenue mansion.  Representatives from 24 states arrived as part of the Advisory Council of the Congressional Union for Woman Suffrage.  Its importance lay in the fact that this was a newly-organized national organization.  Alva Belmont was seeing progress in her dedicated fight for women’s equality.

On December 28 that year Alva opened her mansion doors for the reading of a suffragist opera, Melinda and Her Sisters, composed by Elsie Maxwell.  Actress Marie Dressler was there to read the part of Ma Pepper.

Among the lyrics intended to fire suffragist passion were:

So girls, girls, put away your curls.

Come put away your petticoats and frills,

Step right into line; cease now to repine;

Show them that we, too, know how to drill.

Left! Right! We’ll stand the pace,

Attention! Right about face!

We’ve done with teas and balls;

We’ve forgotten how to dance.

We’ll show what we can do when we’ve the chance.

Alva Belmont’s fight for women’s right to vote would continue until August 1920 when the battle was won.  But by now the Madison Avenue house had been shuttered for two years.  The aging socialite, philanthropist, author and activist left the city, working and living in her several other estates. 

After five years of sitting dark, Alva sold the house on August 7, 1923 to editor Arthur Brisbane for about $500,000.  In reporting the sale, The New York Times remembered “during Mrs. Belmont’s occupancy it was the scene of many brilliant functions, notably the reception Mrs. Belmont gave in honor of Consuelo, her daughter, shortly after she became Duchess of Marlborough.”

The newspaper noted “Its interior has often been reproduced in architectural journals for its Caen stone staircase, which leads to a gallery where much of her entertaining was done.  The gallery formerly contained a collection of rare armor, which was presented to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  A large pipe organ and carved mantelpieces are other elaborate features.”

Although Brisbane was busying himself with demolishing and replacing many nearby properties, he preserved the Belmont mansion.  It became home to the Catholic Charities of the New York Archdiocese.  The organization would operate from the lavish structure for nearly three decades until the Archbishopric of New York sold the building in 1951 to developers Simon Brothers.

Although the firm planned for a 23-story office building on the site, on July 3, 1951 The New York Times announced that “The new office building will be constructed as soon as materials are available, it was explained, but in the meantime the land will be used for parking in an effort to help relieve the traffic situation in the neighborhood.”

Mrs. O. H. P. Belmont’s grand mansion, which had played so important role in the battle for women’s equality, had been reduced to a parking lot.

A year later the 23-story structure designed by Kahn & Jacobs began rising.  In October 1953 the Ford Foundation signed a lease for eight floors in the building that would be known by its address, 477 Madison Avenue.

photo http://www.showcase.com/property/477-Madison-Avenue/New-York/New-York/157376