The Richard Trimble House - 1020 Madison Avenue

Developer Charles Buek acquired the last vacant lots on the famous "Cook Block" around 1910.  He envisioned a high-end apartment house on the site that wrapped the southwest corner of Madison Avenue and 79th Street.  But he quickly encountered a problem.  Restrictions written into the deeds of all the properties on the block by Henry Cook limited construction to only private homes.

Buek therefore turned to architect S. Edson Gage to design three mansions--two facing 79th Street and the other at No. 1020 Madison Avenue.  As it turned out, No. 1020 would be the last private home erected on Madison Avenue.  The street was already transforming to a thoroughfare of apartment buildings and shops.

On April 27, 1912, as the houses took shape, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide mentioned "No. 1020 Madison avenue contains every convenience and perfection of the larger forty-two-foot house, though on a somewhat reduced scale, and is a much more convenient and livable dwelling than the usual twenty-five-foot house."  At 32-feet wide, it was a true mansion.

The architect released this rendering of the three mansions.  No. 1020 is at the left.  Record & Guide, April 27, 1912 (copyright expired)

The article described the facade as "in the Spanish style, with light brick and limestone trimmings."  Two stories of limestone supported three more faced in yellow brick.  Gage's treatment of the entrance and opening directly above was highly unusual.  The entrance above four stone steps was deeply recessed.  Engaged columns on either side supported a dramatic broken pediment which embraced a carved shield.  The configuration upheld an identical, miniature version that enframed the second story window.

The complex framings of the third floor were a marriage of Spanish and Tudor inspiration.  A bracketed stone cornice introduced the two unadorned upper floors.

The Madison Avenue residence cost $40,000 to construct--just over $1 million today.  Inside, as detailed in the sale advertisement, were "five baths, unusually large rooms for entertaining, and open fires."  The mention of wood-burning fireplaces is interesting.  Throughout most of the 19th century rooms were warmed by charcoal fireplaces.  They were no longer needed with the advent of efficient furnaces; and homeowners now returned to the romance of wood fires, used almost exclusively (as today) for ambiance.

Buek sold No. 20 East 79th Street to Dudley Olcott, Jr., and leased No. 22 to Richard Hudnut and No. 1020 Madison to Richard Trimble, the secretary and treasurer of the United States Steel Corporation.

The arrangement most likely had to do with Trimble's purchase of another 32-foot wide plot on East 96th Street, just off Fifth Avenue.  On September 14, 1913 The Sun reported he intended to erect a "fine" home there.  So while they most likely intended to lease No. 1020 until that house was completed; as it turned out, the Trimble family would never leave.

Richard was, as well, the treasurer of the Minnesota Steel Company and a director in railroads, iron mines and other corporations.  He and his wife, the former Cora Randolph, had married on February 14, 1900.  He was 42-years old at the time and his bride was 29.  They would have three children, Mary, Margaret, and Richard, Jr.  

Cora brought an impressive pedigree to the marriage.  She was descended from the Fitz Randolph family which arrived in Massachusetts in the early 17th century.  Her high-level social connections were evidenced in her many benefit involvements.   The year the family moved into No. 1020, for instance, the New-York Tribune noted that she was a patroness of the fifth annual ball to benefit the Nassau Hospital, at Mineola, Long Island.  Other patronesses were Mrs. W. K. Vanderbilt, Jr., Mrs. Henry Payne Whitney, Mrs. James A. Burden, Mrs. August Belmont, Mrs. Ralph Pulitzer, and Mrs. C. Oliver Iselin, among others.

Cora's sister, Mary, was the wife of Francis Egerton Webb.   The same day that the Tribune remarked on Cora's charity event, The Sun announced the engagement of Laura Virginia Webb to Jorge Andre.  Society no doubt anticipated a lavish society wedding for the daughter of one of Manhattan's most prominent families and the cousin of a German baron.

Instead, four months later on January 13, 1914, the couple was quietly married.  The Evening World reported Miss Laura Virginia Webb...chose to have only a few guests at her wedding."  Her only attendants were little Margaret Trimble and her cousin, "little Miss Ellen Randolph."

After leasing No. 1020 for three years, Richard Trimble purchased it in June 1916.  The Record & Guide reported that it was offered at $100,000 "and sold very close to this figure."  The price would translate to about $2.36 million today.

The Trimble family's country estate was in Westbury, Long Island.  There Richard indulged himself in his expensive hobby--polo.   The war in Europe enabled him to acquire a famous thoroughbred in the winter of 1917.  Huon II, a German stallion "of renown," according to the New-York Tribune on February 7, had been sent to England by its owner just before the war.  But when Britain joined the conflict, it confiscated the horse.  That, according to the article, made it "possibly for Richard Trimble to acquire the horse almost at his own terms."  The article was entitled "American Buys Famous German Horse For Song."

In July 1919 Trimble sold five of his polo ponies at auction.  Town & Country said "They have been bred by a genuine sportsman for the love of the thing, and to men like Mr. Trimble polo is deeply indebted."

The Trimble children were growing up by now.  That year Cora began the debutante entertainments for Margaret, including a dinner in the Madison Avenue mansion on December 14.  Like his father, Richard, Jr., too, was making a name for himself with horses.  The following month The New York Herald reported "Richard Trimble, of New York city, a new man on the turf, is the first American to win a race abroad in 1920."  He had raced his bay mare Honey of Roses at Leopardstown, Ireland on New Years Day 1920.

Margaret Trimble at the Mineola Horse Show in September 1921 New-York Tribune, October 2, 1921 (copyright expired)

Richard Trimble, Sr. stepped down from his post of treasurer of the Roosevelt Hospital later that year.  He had held the position since 1891 and his resignation most likely had to do with failing health.  The following year, on March 5, 1921, The New York Herald reported that he "is seriously ill in his home, 1020 Madison avenue.  He was seized with a sudden attack of illness upon returning from his office...a week ago."

Richard's condition did not improve.  In April 1922 he resigned from the United States Steel Corporation, The New York Herald explaining that he "has been incapacitated for the last fifteen months by illness."  In fact, the New York Evening Post later revealed he "was stricken with paralysis."

The original configuration of the lower two floors can be seen in this photograph taken not long after the building's completion.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

No doubt out of consideration of her sick husband, Cora began entertaining outside of the house.  On August 4, 1922, for instance, the New-York Tribune reported "Mrs. Richard Trimble gave a dinner last night at Sherry's for her son and daughter, Mr. Richard Trimble jr., and Miss Margaret Trimble."  (Little Mary was still too young to participate in such events.)

Around 5:00 on the morning of February 18, 1924 Richard Trimble died, one month before his 66th birthday.  His funeral was held in the Church of the Heavenly Rest on Fifth Avenue. 

Cora and the children remained in the Madison Avenue house.  The first to leave was Richard, whose engagement to Winifred Loew was announced in May 1930.  The bride-to-be was the daughter of millionaire William Goadby Loew and his wife, Florence, and the granddaughter of millionaire banker George F. Baker.

Mary was next and her mother followed the social traditions of her own generation in distributing the invitations.  On September 24, 1935 the New York Post reported "In place of the custom engraved card, the guests attending the reception that follows the marriage this afternoon of Miss Mary Trimble to Mr. Perry Rodgers Pease received their invitations in the form of personally penned notes or by telephone from the bride's mother, Mrs. Richard Trimble."

The article pointed out, "Mrs. Trimble is one of a fast diminishing number of aristocrats who has refused to join the ranks of the cliff dwellers and in order to preserve the internal atmosphere of a private party the small number of relatives and close friends will be received in the familiar setting of the Trimble mansion at 1020 Madison Avenue."  Margaret Randolph Trimble was her sister's attendant in the Church of the Heavenly Rest.  The society wedding earned a long and detailed article in the newspaper.

Then, on March 1, 1938, The New York Times reported that Cora had announced the engagement of Margaret to Count Giovanni Revedin, of the Italian Diplomatic Service.  The article noted "The marriage will take place here in the Spring.  Immediately after the marriage Count Revedin and his bride will sail for Europe and return to his post in Budapest."

The marriage would eventually cause Margaret legal troubles.  Italian law prohibited any member of the Italian diplomatic corps from marrying anyone other than an Italian citizen.  For that reason Revedin traveled to New York for the marriage.  Margaret later said that "to satisfy the Italian authorities," she had signed a statement written in Italian at the Italian consulate.  She unwittingly became an Italian citizen by doing so, and in 1950 her American citizenship was withdrawn.

In the meantime, now alone in her home, Cora continued to entertain for charity purposes.  And Mary took advantage of the "unusually large rooms for entertaining," as the 1913 sale ad had described them, as well.  On February 6, 1940 The Times announced that "Mrs. Perry Rodgers Pease entertained with a tea at the home of her mother, Mrs. Richard Trimble, 1,020 Madison Avenue, for members of the committee of patronesses aiding in the pension fund of the Nightingale-Bamford School."  The following January Cora hosted at tea for the same cause.

Cora and her daughters received a shock on July 17, 1941 after Richard, Jr. was found dead on the floor of the bathroom in his Old Westbury, Long Island home.  The stockbroker was just 37-years old.

Cora Randolph Trimble lived on in the mansion as it became an anachronism on the much-changed Madison Avenue.  She died in the house on New Year's Eve, 1946 at the age of 75.  Her illustrious lineage was reflected in the memberships she still held: the Colonial Daughters of America, the Mayflower Descendants and the Huguenot Society.

The following year Charles Hiland Hall purchased No. 1020.  He converted the mansion for his antiques shop, Charles Hall, Inc., with offices on the upper floors. The high-end store remained in the building after Hall's death in September 1959.  

On September 12, 1971 The New York Times reported that the estate of Charles Hall had sold the property to art dealer Bernard Danenberg "for about $750,000."   The change in Madison Avenue from residential to commercial had not injured its property values.  The sale price would be in the neighborhood of $4.65 million today.

The article said "Mr. Denenberg [sic], who bought the building as a residence but may develop its lower floors as galleries at a later date, operates the Bernard Denenberg [sic] Galleries, Inc...it specializes in 19th and 20th century American and international paintings."  Danenberg retained his gallery at No. 1000 Madison Avenue, opening a second one here before the end of the year.

The Danenberg gallery remained until about 1981, replaced by Noortman & Brod which opened in October that year.  The Times reported "Dutch, French and English art from the 17th century till around 1880 are the specialties of this gallery."

photo by Edmund Vincent Gillon from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

It shared the building with the James Goodman Gallery, dealers in modern art.  On September 23, 1982 The East Hampton Star announced "Photographs by Linda McCartney, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Lee Eastman of Lily Pond Lane, East Hampton, will be on view at the James Goodman Gallery at 1020 Madison Avenue in Manhattan."  The article added as an aside, "Mrs. McCartney's husband, Paul, is a former Beatle."  The James Goodman Gallery, Inc. remained at least through 1985.

The building continued to be home to galleries.  By 1986 E. & J. Frankel, Ltd, dealers in fine antiques, was here.  And in the mid-1990's Rafael Fine Art Gallery leased space.  That gallery was the victim of a brazen burglary in December 1996 when thieves broke in and made off with "rare Persian and Oriental rugs, cash and other items valued at $250,000" according to police.

Today the former gallery spaces are home to the Lilly Pulitzer apparel boutique.  Unbelievably, the distinctive structure is not protected by landmark designation.  In 1977 the Landmarks Preservation Commission established the Metropolitan Museum Historic District which included the entire Cook Block--except No. 1020 and its horribly disfigured neighbor at No. 22 East 79th Street.  That the latter building was snubbed is understandable; but why the Trimble house was excluded is not.  The last house to be erected on Madison Avenue, it retains its architectural integrity despite the commercial renovations of the lower floors.

photographs by the author

The Oliver H. Payne Carriage House - No. 126 East 66th St

In 1889 architect Charles C. Haight set to work on two mansions designed to appear as one, at the northern corner of Fifth Avenue and East 66th Street.  The hulking residence for millionaire Henry O. Havemeyer would sit at the corner and face sideways, taking the address No. 1 East 66th Street.  Its matching, smaller brother, at No. 852 Fifth Avenue would become home to bachelor Oliver Hazard Payne.

Havemeyer's mansion faced 66th Street.  Payne's residence (to the left in this photo), looking much like simply another turret, faced Fifth Avenue.  photo by  Byron Company, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult&VBID=24UAYWO9LAKQ&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=894

Once in their grand homes, the two moguls addressed another need, their carriage houses.  In June 1895 Havemeyer purchased the three-story house at No. 134 East 66th Street, between Park and Lexington Avenues, from Edgar Davidson (the address would later be renumbered No. 126).  It completed a plot necessary for two lavish private stables--one for himself and the other for Payne.

Havemeyer was obviously in charge of the project.  He owned the land and it would appear he chose the architects, S. E. Gage and W. J. Wallace.  Wallace was his cousin.  The two stables, designed to appear as a unit, were completed in February 1896.  The behind-the-scenes dealings between the two neighbors were obvious when Havemeyer transferred title to the "three story brick stable" on February 26.  The price listed was "nominal."

The architects had created harmonious Romanesque Revival structures of light-colored Roman brick, trimmed in brownstone and terra cotta.  Like his mansion, Payne's carriage house was a smaller version of Havemeyer's.  Only about half as wide at 28 feet, it was nevertheless spacious and functional.

Munsey's Magazine, May 1900 (copyright expired)

In 1900 Munsey's Magazine described the interior as having "tiles and polished wood and wrought metal of modern magnificence," and depicted its "church-like solemnity, where ten or a dozen traps may repose at once in dignity and comfort; the harness cupboards with plate glass doors, and the velvet lined cases for the shining bits and buckles."

Upstairs were the living quarters for Payne's stable staff.  "The coachmen and grooms are no less well treated than the aristocratic beasts they serve, for their quarters overhead abound in hard wood, enameled tubs, shower baths, and all the comforts of modern heating, ventilation, and plumbing."

Two years later, in an article about Manhattan's lavish private carriage houses being outfitted with modern "sanitary science," Engineering Review mentioned "the private stables of New York's horse-loving millionaires have become celebrated by reason of the addition of such well-known stables as those of H. O. Havemeyer and Colonel Oliver H. Payne at 134 and 136 East Sixty-sixth street."

Rounded bricks soften the corners, while tapered bricks create a sunburst effect over the arched opening.

Born in Cleveland, Ohio on July 21, 1839, Payne was named after Oliver Hazard Perry, a relative of his mother, Mary Perry.  He earned his title Colonel during the Civil War in the 124th Ohio Infantry.  Following the war, he invested in iron and oil refining.  When Standard Oil acquired his interests around 1868, he became the treasurer of that firm.  He assisted in the formation of U. S. Steel and organized the American Tobacco Trust.  By the time he moved his horses and fleet of vehicles into the 66th Street structure he was considered among the 100 wealthiest men in the United States.

The mothers of Manhattan's debutantes may have had high hopes to snag Manhattan's most eligible bachelor, but marriage was not in Payne's future.  And while he enjoyed his massive fortune, building the world class steam yacht Aphrodite in 1898, for instance, he was lavishly generous to his family.

He gave his sister in Ohio "a beautiful home in the outskirts of Cleveland, besides providing for the education of her children," according to The Sun, and he built a Fifth Avenue mansion for his other sister, Mrs. William C. Whitney.   When her son, Payne Whitney, was married to Helen Hay in February 1902, he presented the couple with a stunning wedding present--a marble mansion at No. 972 Fifth Avenue designed by McKim, Mead & White. 

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

Oliver H. Payne's name appeared in newspapers in 1914 when the list of Americans earning more than $1 million per year was made public.  That amount would translate to about 25 times that much today.  His philanthropies were well-known, although he "would never discuss it," according to The Sun.  In 1913 he gave $4,350,000 to Cornell University, where he had already established its medical school.  His gifts to the university would top $8 million in his lifetime.

The bachelor millionaire died in his Fifth Avenue mansion on June 27, 1917 at the age of 78.  His holdings in the Standard Oil Company alone were estimated at the time at a staggering $90 million.  His will left large gifts to institutions like the New York Public Library, the Lakeside Hospital in Cleveland and Dale University, each of which received $1 million.   The Metropolitan Museum of Art received gifts, including a priceless late Gothic tapestry.  The Sun reported that it "has the exceptional interest of being signed by Jan Van Room, also called Jan Van Brussel, who was painter to Margaret of Savoy, Regent of the Netherlands (1507-1530)."

Payne Whitney's share of the estate was significant.  He received all of his uncle's "chattels, furniture, pictures, silver, china books, and personal effects, all his interests in social, shooting or fishing clubs, as well as his yacht and the country place called 'Greenwood Plantation" in Thomasville, Ga., and all other real estate except the place in Ulster county," according to The Sun on July 7, 1917.  Among "all other real estate" was the carriage house on East 66th Street.

By 1920 Payne Whitney's fleet of vehicles had a different type of horse power than his uncle's.  Cabriolets and broughams had been replaced by touring cars and limousines.  Louis Weiniger was Whitney's chauffeur and he lived upstairs in the former carriage house.  On September 16, 1920 he drove his employer to Wall Street.

Domestic terrorism had gripped Manhattan for two decades.  In the early years of the 20th century it was anarchist groups like the Black Hand which were responsible for bombings and murders.  Now communist agitators plotted deadly attacks.  Just before noon that day, Louis Weiniger was parked in an unfortunate spot.

In the equivalent of today's car bombings, a horse-drawn wagon containing 1,000 pounds of dynamite and 500 pounds of iron sash weights and other shrapnel pulled up to the J. P. Morgan building at No. 23 Wall Street.  The subsequent blast was fearsome, blowing out the glass panes of office buildings for blocks. There were 30 immediate fatalities and hundreds of injured. Six more would subsequently die of wounds.

Other drivers were not as fortunate as Louis Weiniger.  photo from the collection of the Library of Congress

Payne Whitney's chauffeur was among the luckier victims.  He was treated for scalp wounds received from flying debris.

When Whitney died on May 25, 1927, he left what The New York Times declared "The largest estate ever appraised in this country"--$178.893,655, or about $2.5 billion today.  Much of his wealth was held in stocks.  The newspaper noted that "This enormous volume of stocks...grew from a fund of many millions set aside some years ago for Mr. Whitney and others by Mr. Whitney's uncle, the late Colonel Oliver H. Payne."

At the time of his death, the carriage house was valued at $80,000.  It passed to Whitney's son, John Hay Whitney.   Almost unique among personal stables of the 19th century, No. 126 East 66th Street continued to be used as a private garage.  In 1969 John Hay Whitney housed his nine vehicles here.  That year the AIA Guide to New York City noted "Rarely does even consciously monumental architecture achieve such power."

Somewhat sadly, by the time the editors Norval White and Elliot Willensky made the comment, the Havemeyer carriage house had been demolished, leaving the Payne stable looking a bit off center and squashed. 

Whitney died in 1982.  Known familiarly as Jock, his remarkable and varied career included U. S. Ambassador to the United Kingdom, publisher of the New York Herald Tribune, president of the Museum of Modern Art, and chairman of the board of Selznick International Pictures.  He funded half of the production costs of Gone with the Wind, and for the 1940 film Rebecca.

The Payne carriage house continues its original purpose today--a garage on the ground floor and a single residence above.  While it could stand a facade cleaning, its continuous use by a single family has resulted in its nearly perfect preservation.

photographs by the author

Wm. Schickel's Nos. 27-33 West 23rd Street

In the first years following the Civil War the block of West 23^rd Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues was still lined with the homes of affluent New Yorkers.  The wealthy homeowners had names like William Schermerhorn, George Frederick Jones, Benjamin Nathan, James Constable and Aaron Arnold.

But by 1880 change had come.  Retail concerns had spilled onto the wide street, driving homeowners to newly-fashionable neighborhoods to the north.   The William Schermerhorn house, at No. 29 West 23^rd Street, abutted the family home of Richard Arnold and his sister Henrietta.   These residences, along with the old James Constable house, were demolished by Richard and Henrietta as they planned a modern commercial building on the sites.

Richard Arnold was a partner in the highly successful Arnold, Constable & Co. dry goods store.  Henrietta had married his partner, James Constable.  The brother-sister team would add to their personal fortunes through real estate dealings, like their planned 23^rd Street building.

They commissioned architect William Schickel, responsible for the Fifth Avenue addition to their massive Broadway store, to design the building.  Construction began in 1880 and was completed the following year.  Schickel produced a six-story brick structure trimmed in stone that was meant to impress. 

Putnam & Sons bookstore was in the store at right.  The westerly store advertised "Christmas Cards, Calendars" -- photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/Collection/[31%20West%2023rd%20Street.]-2F3XC5IA0CJL.html

The neo-Grec facade presented itself as two matching buildings; the separate retail spaces at ground level clearly defining the separation.   Stone ornamentation in the form of slender colonnettes, pier capitals, and banding added to Schickel’s dignified design.  Atop it all, an elaborate combination cresting-balustrade sat tiara-like—the architectural eye candy of the new structure.

The New York Times described the interior, which it said was “attractively finished in light hard woods, relieved by rows of white pillars supporting the centre of each floor.  There are passenger elevators in the front and rear, besides an additional one now being put in near the middle of the building.”

Richard and Henrietta’s building stretched from No. 27 through 33 West 23^rd Street, and northward through the block to 24^th street.   By now the Consumer Cooperative Movement had reached the United States.  Founded in 1844 in Rochdale, England, the movement was based on the idea that consumers could save money by cutting out the middleman.  Members would buy goods from their own organization, eliminating the need for the retailer’s mark-ups.

The western half of the new 23^rd Street building was leased to the Co-operative Dress Association, Ltd.  On August 2, 1881 The New York Times announced that the organization had taken possession “of the new and handsome business building, Nos. 31 and 33 West Twenty-third-street.”  The group agreed to an annual rental of $20,000—about $475,000 today.  The newspaper mentioned that “The building occupies the site upon which formerly stood the residences of the original members of the firm of Arnold, Constable & Co., of whose combined estates it constitutes a part.”

The delightful altered mansion to the right of Nos. 27-33 West 23rd was once the home of John Gardner Ambler.

The new Co-operative Dress Association had accumulated $210,000 in capital from its members.  It hired John Wales, formerly a member of Spaulding, Wales & Co., a Boston dry goods firm, to set up the emporium.  His duties were the “laying out spaces for counters, selecting his forces, and looking over the market preparatory to purchasing his stock.” The Co-operative’s president, Kate Field, “is also making strenuous efforts insure the success of the enterprise,” noted The Times.

The Co-operative Dress Association reserved the basement for storage and packing, the ground floor as its retail store and the sixth for as “a work-room.”   The second floor was relegated to the dress department, and the third floor to “ladies’ undergarments, laces, embroideries, silks, and all varieties and shades of dress goods, hosiery, gentlemen’s furnishing goods, buttons, and notions, hair work, shoes, stationery, china and glass ware.”  The millinery department was on the third floor as well.

Fatigued shoppers could take the elevator to the fifth floor to the reading room, reception room and lunchroom. The New York Times added “The building was very handsomely and expensively fitted up inside and contained, besides a restaurant, and elegant Directors’ room, a fine reading-room, and costly library.”

Readers of the New-York Tribune may have gotten a hint that things were not going so well for the Co-operative Dress Association four months later.  An advertisement on December 11 not only listed highly-discounted prices just two weeks before Christmas, but added “Members and Public Invited.”

The merchandise offered by the association was in line with the upscale tone of the retail neighborhood.  When the new season’s fashions were introduced on April 5, 1882 The Times reported on the dress department, which encompassed the entire second floor.  “The stock includes several dresses from Worth, Grange & Magenties, Felix, Dusizian, and other Parisian modistes, and many beautiful costumes made by the association itself.  The prices range from $40 to $350.”

While members (who paid $25 for their membership) shopped for Paris creations at a lower cost than could be found on Sixth Avenue or Broadway, they could have no idea of the troubles bubbling up behind closed doors.   In the spring of 1882, just months after the Association opened, John Wales resigned.  In November a number of employees were laid off and the salaries of the others were cut.  According to The Times, that month “the Secretary of the association emphatically denied to a representative of [Bradstreet’s] that the association was in trouble.  He admitted that business was dull and that the association was a little behind on some bills, but claimed that it was perfectly sound and able to pay all it owed three times over.”

Then, on December 27, 1882 The Times reported “The doors of the large store of the Co-operative Dress Association, Nos. 31 and 33 West Twenty-third-street, were closed all day yesterday, and the most vigorous pounding failed to secure the attention of the porter.  The experiment in a sort of socialism had failed—partly because of Kate Field’s very un-socialistic salary of $10,000, equal to half the rent paid on the building.

Kate Field was not only unapologetic, but placed the blame for the association’s collapse on the shoulders some of its creditors.  The store closed, she said, “to save our property for the benefit of all creditors from a lot of dirty little claimants, who had no bowels of compassion, and were getting out attachments against us and threatening to take all our assets, to the exclusion of larger and more generous claimants against the property.”

The Co-operative Dress Association was replaced in Nos. 31-33 by Le Bouillier Brothers.  The dry goods store offered a variety of items from women’s and children’s apparel to upholstery fabrics, curtains and draperies, “fine table-scarfs and piano-scarfs, in silk plush, and Smyrna rugs of all sizes.”  A newspaper summed it up in October 1883 saying “there are few things which a lady can desire which are not to be found displayed in the establishment.”

In the meantime, the eastern portion of the building, Nos. 27-29, became home to publishers.  Putnam’s took the ground floor for its bookstore and maintained offices upstairs.  Another publisher, E. P. Dutton & Co. was in No. 31-33 by 1886, and the publishing firm of Henry Hold & Co., was at No. 29. That year Holt published Life of a Prig which the Pall Mall Gazette deemed “delightful” and “extremely clever.”

Putnam's Sons advertised a few of its new publications on April 14, 1900 (copyright expired)

Upstairs, on February 25, 1892, Franz Hanfstaengl, Fine Art Publishing House opened a small gallery.  The firm, “which deals in photogravures and color prints,” opened with an exhibition of paintings by Munich artists.  Sharing the building by 1894 was publisher G. W. Dillingham.   A consummate businessman, when Dillingham was asked in February that year to what he attributed his great success, he replied “Study, work, and judicious advertising, but the greatest of these is advertising.”

The retail space at No. 31-33 was home to the White & Spate carpet manufacturers by 1896. 

On March 5, 1911 The New York Times reported on the newly available editions from New York City publishers, including Henry Holt & Co., E. P. Dutton & Co., and G. P. Putnam’s Sons, all of whom were still in the 23^rd Street building.  The article noted, however, “To-morrow Messrs. G. P. Putnam’s Sons move from 27 West Twenty-third Street to Forty-fifth Street, one door west of Fifth Avenue…but their present retail store, in Twenty-third Street, will be kept up.”  The move signaled a change and later that same year E. P. Dutton moved to No. 681 Fifth Avenue.

In July 1912 architect S. E. Gage completed plans for a $20,000 renovation to the 31-year old structure.  The building was still owned at the time by the Richard Arnold estate.  Upon completion J. Dryfoos & Sons, manufacturers of petticoats, moved in.  Here a working staff of 10 men and 50 women manufactured the ladies’ garments.    Another manufacturer, the Idelia Manufacturing Co., had been in the building “for a long term of years,” when it renewed its lease in November 1913.

Only two years after Gage had designed the renovations of Nos. 27-33 West 23^rd Street, he was called back.   On February 7, 1914 the Dry Goods Economist reported that Loeb & Schoenfeld “has leased for ten years the six-story building, with basement and sub-basement at 27-33 West Twenty-third street…This building will be vacated during the coming spring, and at that time the structure will be entirely remodeled.”  On April 18 the Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide announced that Gage had filed plans for another $30,000 renovation; and a week later explained that the changes were being made for the new lessee.

Loeb & Schoenfeld had been founded in 1883 by Jacob Loeb and Max Schoenfeld.  The firm manufactured embroidered curtains in their “large and finely equipped plants” at Camden, New Jersey and Lebanon, Pennsylvania.  American Carpet and Upholstery Journal opined that the company’s “novelty embroidered curtains with embroidered braided effect” were “absolutely different from anything else offered on this side of the Atlantic.”

In reporting on the firm’s upcoming move, the Dry Goods Economist noted “The fact that this Twenty-third block between Fifth and Sixth avenues is now in a state of transition from a retail to a wholesale trade center gives the concern a modern building meeting all their exacting requirements, including accessibility, light, area, shipping facilities, etc. at an exceptionally attractive rental and more than double the size of the one they are about to leave.” 

The trade paper felt that the move “in all probability means the reconstruction with a short time of that part of Twenty-third street as an important and attractive addition to the city’s wholesale dry goods district.”

A 1917 advertisement depicted the coordinated linens, upholstery, draperies and wallpaper available through Loeb & Schoenfeld -- Good Furniture (copyright expired)

Another drapery firm, Charles Weinberg Co. subleased the top two floors, a full 35,000 square feet, in 1914.  The Manhattan Trading Company took the entire fourth floor in 1919.

In 1924 Loeb & Schoenfeld had recently renewed its lease when the building was sold for $1 million to Nymco Holding Corporation.  The firm would still be in the building in 1928 when Emil Erdreich, a cashier for the New York Merchandise Company found himself in trouble.

The 21-year old was also a psychology student at the nearby Washington Square branch of New York University.  The New York Merchandise Company was a wholesale manufacturer and importer of variety merchandise.  He had worked for the firm for some time when, in November 19, 1927, he devised a scheme to make extra money.

Detectives would later say “it was Ederich’s practice to gain his employer’s commendation by arriving early at his office.”  But the cashier’s reasons for getting to the office before anyone else were less commendable.  “He would obtain a few of the firm’s numbered checks, and making them out on the firm’s stamping machine take them home to be signed that evening.”

Ederich would then take the large checks to a telegraph office and have the funds wired to a fictitious person in a nearby city.  He would then go there to collect the money.  The young man’s plan would most likely have succeeded had he not grown too greedy.

On January 6, 1928 The New York Times reported that the forgeries “were not noticed until officers of the merchandising company in going over the December checks found too many drawn in favor of unknown payees.”

Emil Ederich was sitting in his New York University classroom on the night of January 5 when detectives walked in and arrested him.  He was charged for forging $30,000 in checks—more than $410,000 in today’s dollars.   Police reported that $27,500 in cash was found in a smoking cabinet in his home.

In 1937 the building was sold once again, this time to the Consolidated Trimming Corporation.  The firm, founded in 1880 by William John Rosenberg, moved its drapery and upholstery trimmings factory into the building and continued to lease out other space.   The new owners had barely settled in when trouble arrived.

On November 5, 1937 65-year old paymaster George Young walked to the bank with an armed guard, 55-year old Amin Schrieber.  The guard was an advisable precaution since Young was withdrawing nearly $12,000 in cash for payroll.

As Young and Schrieber returned to the lobby, they were pounced upon by three hold-up men.  The gunmen took Schrieber’s handgun and fled with the money envelope from George Young.  What they did not realize is that the two veteran cash-carriers were prepared for just such an attack.  Before leaving the bank they had taken most of the cash--$8,020—and concealed it in their clothing.  The robbers ran off with the remaining $3,780.  It was a large enough amount not to raise the thugs’ suspicions; leaving Young and Schrieber with the majority of the Consolidated Trimming Corporation’s payroll.

In June 1939 the massive 50,000 square foot first floor was leased to A. Cohen & Sons, a “large silverware and novelty concern.”  The firm had operated from No. 584 Broadway for two decades.

The New York Merchandise Company was still in the building in the mid-1940s.  In June of 1954 Consolidated Trimming Corporation sold the property to a syndicate, but announced it “will continue to occupy the fifth and sixth floors.”  A. Cohen Sons was still selling silver and jewelry from sidewalk level and would stay on here into the 1960s.

In 1993 Truro College converted the building as a trade school for adults.  Today the ground floor houses a digital printing concern.  Hopefully the panels of flat metal here merely cover and have not destroyed the original storefront.  The upper floors survive essentially intact from the days when a brother and sister sacrificed their family home for progress.

photographs by the author

Reborn -- No. 16 East 64th Street

In 1878, as the East Side blocks branching away from the new Central Park were being developed, Edward Kilpatrick set to work on four brownstone-clad houses at Nos. 8, 10, 12 and 16 East 64^th Street.  He commissioned brothers John and David Jardine to design the residences—two architects who were busy creating rows of such houses in the area for speculative developers.

Four stories tall over a English basements, the dwellings were completed in 1879.  They were typical of D. & J. Jardine’s work with high stone stoops, regimented openings, and commodious interiors.

By the early years of the 1890s No. 16 East 64^th Street was home to lawyer Austin Abbott and his wife.  The pair were interested in the conditions of Native Americans.  The 1894 Annual Report of the Board of Indian Commissioners noted that they were members of the Mohonk Conference; a group organized to work “for Indian Reform.”

Within four years the No. 16 was home to German-born author Carl Schurz.   Highly involved in American politics, Schurz’s first speech delivered in English was during the 1858 Douglas-Lincoln race for the United States Senate.  On January 29, 1898 a reporter from The New York Times described Schurz’s home on East 64^th:

“A visitor to Mr. Schurz’s literary workshop, at 16 East Sixty-fourth Street, finds nothing there that suggests Germany—except the distinctively German face of its master artisan and the Teutonic form of the dachshund that is always curled in a ball on the lounge within easy reach of caresses and kind words.”  The journalist noted that the library shelves were laden with books in a variety of languages; and said that the entrance hall “is a veritable portrait gallery of immortals.  No one enters this select company without having done something for the world.  Warriors, statesmen, musicians, artists, and authors are al represented, but a certain spirit of selection, you can see at once, has directed the formation of the gallery.  Men of thought rule here and not ‘men of destiny’ or of empire.”

Schurz's impressive career included positions of Secretary of the Interior, Missouri Senator, and US Ambassador to Spain -- photograph Library of Congress

The portrait gallery continued up the stairs into the sitting room, two flights up.  Paintings of Voltaire, Napoleon, and Frederick the Great shared wall space with Abraham Lincoln.  Like all upscale late Victorian homes, Schurz’s rooms were crowded with bric-a-brac and mementos.   “There is also the inevitable collection of curiosities, knives and swords from the Malay Archipelago and articles of virtu picked up in all parts of the world.  Among the more precious things of the collection are the cuff buttons work by John Quincy Adams when he fell in the Senate Chamber in 1848.”

Of course No. 16 was occupied only during the winter season.  Like all wealthy New Yorkers, Schurz closed the house during the warm months to escape to his summer place.  His was in Lake George, New York.

The author sold No. 16 in 1900 to William R. H. Martin, the head on one of Manhattan’s most recognized men’s shops, Rogers, Peet & Co.  The haberdasher paid about $65,000 for the house—about $1.86 million in today’s dollars.

Martin and his family would stay in the Victorian house for just two years.  When Stephen Pell purchased it in March 1902, he had plans for the building that did not include his own occupancy.  Pell was one of the directors of the Real Estate Security Co. and he recognized that the location of the property was more valuable than the out-of-date house.  To maximize his investment, he needed to make the house marketable to the wealthy home buyers filling the neighborhood.

Pell commissioned architect S. E. Gage to update the structure.  The two-year make-over included removing the brownstone façade and redoing the interiors.  The result was an up-to-date Edwardian home in the recently-popular neo-Federal style.  The red brick was laid in Flemish bond and the headers burned to resemble aging.   Gage moved the entrance to sidewalk level, while  keeping the basement service entrance below ground.  A handsome columned portico served as a balcony to the second floor, where two sets of tall French windows were framed in limestone.  The third floor was a near-wall of small-paned openings, separated by engaged Doric columns and united by a stone entablature.  The Federal motif was emphasized at the fourth floor with dramatic splayed lintels; and the high mansard roof was accented by three hooded dormers and three copper oculi.

The house as it appeared in 1913 -- The Sun, March 23, 1913 (copyright expired)

On March 30, 1905 The New York Times reported that Stephen H. P. Pell had sold the renovated house to Dudley Olcott, Jr.   Olcott was a banker with the Central Trust Company of New York, and was recently married to Sarah C. Levick.  The couple had been living at No. 171 West 71^st Street and shortly after purchasing the house, The New York Times added that they “spend their Summers at Normandie Park, Morristown, N. J.”   Among the items to be brought into the 64^th Street house would be the newly-completed portrait of Mrs. Olcott by Maurice Fromkes.  

Wealthy and modern-thinking, Olcott was an early automobile enthusiast.  In 1911 he would be selected for the position of Treasurer of the Automobile Club of America.   A year earlier, he discovered first-hand the potential dangers of the expensive pursuit.

On November 6, 1910 attorney John Ellis Roosevelt, cousin for the former President, was one of a group of Metropolitan Club members enjoying a three-day excursion in the country.  In his big car were seven other “prominent New Yorkers” and a second chauffeur.   Dudley Olcott, Jr. was among Roosevelt’s guests.  “It was their purpose to make a leisurely pace and enjoy the beauties of the Autumn landscape,” explained The New York Times.

At one point Roosevelt decided to take the wheel and his chauffeur, Alexander Ehbel, moved to the front passenger seat.   Passengers later said there was no speeding that Roosevelt was “going at not more than an ordinary country-road pace.”   But at a bend in the road, the wheels on the passenger side slipped off the road into soft ground and skidded.  The strain broke the axle and the car “turned turtle” as described by the newspaper.

Roosevelt’s chauffeur was instantly killed and several of the passengers were injured.  Olcott escaped without serious injuries.

Three years later, in January 1913 Olcott sold the house to  the Buek Construction Co.  The Real Estate Record and Guide noted that Olcott’s asking price was $150,000 and “one of the features of this house is a large laundry on the roof.”

A month later the firm advertised No. 16 for sale, calling it a “beautiful, five story, American basement private dwelling.”   The operators had apparently hoped for a quick turn-around, for a few weeks later, on Sunday, March 23, a different advertisement appeared in The Sun along with a photograph.   The caption read “Above house for sale--$30,000 cash will purchase.”

No. 16 became home to Dr. George Emerson Brewer.  Among the most esteemed surgeons in New York, he was Professor of Surgery in Columbia University’s College of Physicians and Surgeons; the Surgical Director at Presbyterian Hospital; and Consulting Surgeon to no fewer than six other hospitals and institutes.

Brewer’s high standing among the medical community was evidenced on the morning of November 15, 1915 when Mayor John Purroy Mitchel was stricken with appendicitis at his Riverside Drive home.  After making a preliminary diagnosis, the mayor’s physician summoned Dr. Brewer.  “They decided that an operation was necessary,” reported the New-York Tribune the following day. 

Brewer, who made time also to hold the rank of Colonel in the Medical Section of the US Army Reserve Corps, stayed on in the 64^th Street house until 1921.  On January 25 that year the New-York Tribune ran a headline reading “Dr. G. E. Brewer Sells House in East 64^th Street.  Parts with Costly Dwelling Between 5^th and Madison Aves.”

At the time architect Frederick Junius Sterner had made a name for himself in New York by transforming outdated brownstone rowhouses into unrecognizable neo-Tudor, Mediterranean or Gothic fantasies.  It was Sterner who now bought Brewer’s house for what the Tribune said was about $130,000.

Although the house was still perfectly in fashion; Sterner did what he was best known for: renovate.   He replaced the second floor French windows with four grouped, small paned openings.  The two in the center formed a fanlight within their rectangular frames.  The portico and balcony were removed and two columns, surmounted by lion figures, acted as an entrance.  Above it all, the dormers were replaced with a single, broad studio dormer, nearly the width of the structure, that flooded the interior in light.

Sterner replaced the second floor windows and removed the portico.  A single long dormer replaced the original three.  from the collection of the New York Public Library.

Inside Sterner rearranged Gage’s first and second story floor plans, and installed new stairs.   The completed renovation resulted in a 22-room house with six baths and an elevator.   When Sterner offered it for sale in October 1922, the New-York Tribune deemed it a “fine house.”

Apparently Richard Delafield agreed.  The 69-year old banker purchased the house for $110,000.  He had just been elevated to the position of Chairman of the Board of the National Park Bank of New York.   In reporting the sale the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide noted “Mr. Delafield, whose country home is at Tuxedo, will occupy the residence.”

Richard Delafield two months after the purchase of No. 16 -- The Banker's Magazine, December 1922 (copyright expired)

Following Delafield, in 1925, Richard Croker, Jr. moved in.  Croker was the son of the notorious Tammany Hall leader who garnered millions; much of it through bribe money received from proprietors of saloons, brothels and gambling dens.  Upon his death in 1922, the senior Croker left his second wife his entire estate, totalling upwards of $5 million.  His children, including Richard Jr., received nothing.

Richard Croker, Jr. would stay in the house until 1934, during which time he was indicted for failing to pay $7,612 in 1925 New York State income taxes.   He sold it to Miguel J. Ossorio who had made his fortune in the Philippine and Puerto Rican sugar industry.

Like almost all of the owners of the mansion, Don Miguel Ossorio would not stay long.  When he sold the house six years later, The New York Times reported on July 23, 1941 that “the building has an electric elevator and many modern improvements, but the purchaser prior to making the place his town house, will make extensive alterations.”  The newspaper made note of the elite neighborhood.  “The homes of Mrs. J. Sargent Cram, Roy Howard, Mrs. Orme Wilson Jr. and Adolph Pavenstedt are near by.”

Although the alterations preserved the structure as a single family house; that status would last only eleven more years.  In 1952 the Smith College Club of New York commissioned architects Rosario Candela and Paul Resnick to convert the interiors as a social club.   The renovations, completed in December 1953, provided for a lounge and private dining room on both the first and second floors; a bedroom, card room and library on the third; three bedrooms on the fourth floor and offices on the fifth.

But it was not the Smith College Club which would occupy the new clubhouse.  In 1952 a letter went out to the members of the St. Anthony Club of New York which said, in part, "After considering 50 locations, a building at 16 East 64th Street has been found which meets ALL [the] requirements." 

The social club of the Delta Psi fraternity founded at Columbia University, it had moved several times in its more than 100 year existence.  The 16 East 64th Street Corporation was organized to purchase the $88,000 property, which in turn leased it to the St. Anthony Club.

The St. Anthony barroom was decidedly mid-century in decor.  photograph from "St. Anthony Club" brochure, courtesy Tad Tharp

With remarkable sensitivity, Candela and Resnick had preserved much of the interior detailing.  Even stained glass panels--the antithesis of 1950s design--survived.  Nevertheless, some areas like the barroom, were quintessentially mid-century.   A 1960s St. Anthony Club member brochure noted "It's a comfortable bar--casual and masculine in appearance, but often pleasantly sprinkled with ladies in the evening."

Other areas retained their early 20th century details.  photos courtesy Tad Tharp

The St. Anthony Club stayed on in the house until 1990 when it was sold to Linda and Stuart Schlesinger for $3 million.  The couple began a four-year restoration that that returned it to a single family home.   “Restoration” meant undoing Frederick Sterner’s 1921 remake of the second floor.  The two arched French windows reappeared, as if they were never gone.

By 2005 the arched openings of the second floor had reappeared; however the portico and service entrance remained changed.  photo New York Observer October 24, 2015.

The period touches that they did not bring back were the warm red brick (it was hidden beneath a slathering of white paint or stucco) and the below-sidewalk level service entrance (it had been moved up to what had previously been a ground floor window).  Their hard work resulted in a $21.5 million sale in 2005.

Only the studio dormer remains of Sterner's changes.  photo by the author

The new owners picked up where the Schlesinger’s left off.  The portico was closely restored, the façade cleaned, and the basement entrance lowered.  The result is as near a match to S. E. Gage’s 1904 remake of the old Victorian rowhouse as could ever be expected.  (The interiors--well, not so much.)