The Lost William F. Havemeyer House - 335 West 14th Street

Two tall, white-painted gas lamps flank the stoop--a long-held New York tradition that marked the residence as the home of a Mayor or former Mayor.  photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

From its earliest days, the tradition of New York City's fashionable residential neighborhoods has been one of northward movement.  As the tide of commerce moved ever northward, wealthy home owners abandoned their fine homes that would soon be swallowed up by a spreading business district.  In the early 1840's West 14th Street, until recently still rural, began developing into a fashionable residential.  

Around 1842 a fine, double-wide brick home was erected on the north side of West 14th Street, between Eighth and Ninth Avenues.   Exhibiting elements of both the Greek Revival and Italianate styles, the earred enframement of the entrance was common in the Greek Revival style, although its origins were actually Egyptian.  Classical, triangular pediments sat about the first floor openings.  Here each of the windows opened onto Italianate-style cast iron balconies.  The compressed openings of the fourth floor were patently Greek Revival, fitting into the squat attic level where the servants lived.

The architect added two distinctive features.  Rather than terminating the Italianate-style stoop railings in sturdy newels, as common, he gracefully curved them to morph seamlessly into the areaway fencing.  And above the bracketed cornice a stone parapet was added; a highly unusual feature for a domestic structure.

The wide proportions of the house allowed for a reception room at the right of the entrance hall, and the staircase directly behind.  The dining room can be seen at the end of the hall, and the parlors opened on the left.   photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

The Prime family was listed as living at No. 113 in 1842.  Rufus Prime and his wife the former Augusta Temple, had seven children, including Temple Prime, who was 10-years old that year.   As he grew to adulthood, Temple remained in the family home, focusing his attentions on science.

He was still living here in February 1865 when he was appointed to the committee to form a Museum of Natural History.  In a joint announcement published in The Jewish Messenger that month, the group stressed "The establishment here of a Museum of Natural History would attract to New York many persons of cultivation who are driven to other cities, where a wise liberality has made ample provision for scientific pursuits."

Prime was, at the time, the treasurer of the Lyceum of Natural History, the forerunner of the Natural History Museum.  He would become an accomplished amateur conchologist (expert in mollusk shells), discovering several new species.

Prime published his home address for those wishing to subscript to the Lyceum's publications. The American Journal of Conchology, February 1865 (copyright expired) 

Around 1868, when West 14th Street was renumbered and the house received its new address of No. 335, Prime had moved on.  The William Frederick Havemeyer family now lived here.

Havemeyer was born in 1804.  His father, also William, had established one of the first sugar refineries in New York.    After graduating from Columbia College in 1823, he joined his father's firm.  Five years later he and his cousin, Frederick Christian Havemeyer formed the W. F. & F. C. Havemeyer sugar refinery business.  He sold his share to his brother, Albert in 1842, retiring at 38-years old a wealthy man.

Two views of the parlors.  No pocket doors separate the rooms just pairs of Corinthian columns.  Note the intricately-stenciled ceiling.   photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Retirement from business did not translate into inactivity.  Havemeyer went into politics and in 1845 defeated incumbent mayor James Harper.  He was elected mayor again in 1848 and a third time in 1873.

William F. Havemeyer's library walls were hung with framed certificates and honors.   photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In the days of the Dutch Burgomasters, two lantern bearers would escort the Burgomaster home at night.  The lit lanterns were then left outside the residence as a sign that Burgomaster was at home and boisterous citizens should not disturb him.  The custom evolved into two gas lampposts adorning all New York mayors’ residences for life; and so two white-painted gas lamps were installed on either side of the stoop of No. 335.

Havemeyer and his wife, the former Sarah Agnes Craig, had ten children.  The wedding of Laura A. Havemeyer to Major Isaac Walker Maclay of the U. S. Army was held in the 14th Street house on November 30, 1869.  Interestingly, four years earlier, on April 15, 1865, Maclay had helped carry President Abraham Lincoln from his box in Ford's Theatre to a rear room, then ran out to find Dr. Dodd, the Lincoln family physician.

Son Jonathan C. Havemeyer was still living with his parents in the early 1870's.  Like Temple Prime, he was interested in science and since 1859 had been a member of the American Geographical Society of New York.  On November 29, 1872 the Evening Telegram reported "Mr. J. C. Havemeyer, the well known refiner...residing at 335 West Fourteenth street, sailed for England on the 16th inst., accompanied by Mr. C. W. Havemeyer."  The final destination of Jonathan's and his brother Christopher's voyage was, in fact Athens.  On December 21, 1872 Jonathan married Alice A. Francis in there (Alice's father, John M. Francis, was the United States Minister to Greece at the time).

Two views of the Havemeyer dining room.  Oriental rugs lay atop the wall-to-wall carpeting.  A handsome Empire sofa (top) coexists with a Renaissance Revival sideboard.  photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

On the morning of December 1, 1874 Mayor Havemeyer attended a ceremony in Flushing, Queens.  After a long walk to the train station, he and the other passengers were informed that there would be no train stopping there.  One man offered him a ride in his carriage to the next train depot, but Havemeyer refused, saying the air was bracing.

By the time the mayor reached the Main Street depot, about two miles away, he was exhausted, according to another passenger.  C. P. Whitlock said later "When he got into the cars and was seated, he took off his hat and wiped the perspiration from his forehead and said to a friend, 'I don't think I would make much of a pedestrian.'"  Whitlock added "All the way to the city His Honor seemed to be suffering more or less, throwing off wind from his stomach continually."

William Havemeyer made it to City Hall, then suffered a fatal heart attack.  Within twenty-four hours, according to the Evening Telegram, "the City Hall is black."  The main balcony was draped in heavy black and white bunting, the columns were completely shrouded in striped black and white cloth, and the pillars of the main hallway "were also hung with black and white crepe."  Throughout the day city officials called on Sarah at the 14th Street mansion.  

Following the funeral Sarah turned her attentions to aiding war veterans.  By 1876 she was treasurer of the Ladies' Union Relief Association "a society of devoted and patriotic ladies...who make it their business to relieve with judicious aid the needs of several hundred soldiers' families," according to The New York Times on November 28 that year.  She would retain the unpaid position at least throughout the 1870's.

Two of the several bedrooms in the house.   photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

While Sarah focused on charitable works, other family members were more interested in their personal wealth.  Despite the Havemeyer millions, squabbling among the siblings began in 1874, following the death of their uncle, Albert Havemeyer.

Albert died without a will.  Among his assets were $600,000 in Long Island Railroad shares--more in the neighborhood of $13.6 million today.  All parties involved agreed to turn over the stocks to John C. Havemeyer to be liquided and dispersed among the heirs.  In March 1877 William A. Havemeyer sued his brother for $76,000, claiming he never received his fair portion.  The litigation lasted more than a year, earning it the name in the press "The Havemeyer Suit."  In December 1878 William won the case and was awarded $30,505.10.

This large bedroom, stuffed with furniture, was the epitome of late 19th century taste.  The sewing stand and sewing basket (top) suggest this was Sarah's room.   photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Still living with Sarah in the 14th Street house was her unmarried son, Hector, who was by now the president of the Havemeyer Sugar Refining Company.  The Sun remarked that was "a fine musician and a performer on the violin.  He often played privately for his friends at his residence, 335 West Fourteenth street."

The large Havemeyer refinery building was located in Greenpoint, Brooklyn.  Labor problems in 1887 resulted in a massive arson fire in Palmer's cooperage, or barrel-making, factory, nearby.  Hector responded by establishing round-the-clock shifts so the his building would be less likely to be torched.  He told reporters later he and his managers thought "if it became known that so many men were in the building it would deter anyone from attempting to destroy it."  Havemeyer underestimated the often brutally violent union men.

There were 125 men working in the building on the night of June 11, 1887.  Earlier that day a fired employee named Johnson was seen "lounging about the neighborhood of the refinery...in a partly intoxicated condition."  At some point that night someone entered the building and deactivated the fire alarms, then set the first floor on fire.  All the employees were in upper floors.  The fire grew to an inferno and, amazingly, almost everyone made it out safely.  But two, Ferdinand Wein and Lewis Wilkins, were missing.

The following morning Havemeyer estimated the damaged at more than $1 million.  "But I do not care so much about this as I do about the two men that are missing.  I think there is no doubt that they are lost."  Later that morning the bodies of the men were recovered.

The door frames of this sitting room (which had no lack of patterns), feature the Greek Revival ears of the exterior entrance.   photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

In August 1889 Hector was diagnosed with Brights' Disease, better known today as acute nephritis, and advised by his physicians to go abroad for his health.  The Sun said "He had never been seriously ill before, and was loath to believe that he was seriously ill then."  The 45-year-old went to Carlsbad, where he "took a treatment at the baths," then traveled to Nice and Cannes.  But the treatments did not work.  Still weak, Havemeyer returned to Paris to board a steamer home.

His French physician forbade his traveling, and was so concerned that he cabled Hector's brother, William, who sailed on December 8 for France.  He did not make it there in time to see his brother alive.  Hector died on December 14.

The millionaire's body was brought back to New York and his funeral held in the 14th Street house on New Year's morning, 1890.  The Statesman commented that "Among the many beautiful floral designs was a broken column, of roses, orchids and other choice flowers, and sent by the employes of the Havemeyer Sugar Refining Company."

His will prompted the extended family, one again, to quarrel.  His multi-million dollar estate was, admittedly, disproportionately divided.  On March 18, 1890 The Buffalo Courier reported "By the will he left about $1,500,000 to his brother, William F. Havemeyer, who already had probably $10,000,000.  Two other brothers got something, but the children of a fourth brother, Henry Havemeyer, deceased, are not remembered at all."  The day after the will was probated the "ten forgotten children" contested it.  The Buffalo Courier predicted "a stubborn fight" over the millions "with fine pickings for the lawyers."  The contestants claimed that Havemeyer was "not in fit mental condition to make a well, else he would never have left them out of it."  The newspaper added its editorial comment, "Possibly."

Sarah received $100,000 from her son's will, and an additional $200,000 for her to distribute among "several charitable corporations and associations in the city...she may select."  

Sarah died in the 14th Street house in December 1894.  Her estate was divided among Jonathan, James and William, and her two daughters.  She had quite noticeably snubbed Charles, bequeathing his portion instead to his two children, Julia and Loomis Havemeyer.  And not unexpectedly, another court battle over Havemeyer money ensued.  On February 24, 1895 Charles filed a notice of contest.  His complaint said that "his mother's last will was not such, that it was not her free and voluntary act, and that when it was executed, if at all, Mrs. Havemeyer was not of sound mind," as reported by The Evening Post.

Four months later, on June 20, the Havemeyer heirs held an auction of the furnishings of their family home.  Included was a Worcester & Stoddard pianoforte, "fine antique mahogany sofas tables, chairs," and Sarah's china, glass and silver.

In March 1898 William Havemeyer sold the house and the plot next door that had been the Havemeyer garden to real estate operators Benson & Gildersleeve.  The developers wasted little time in demolishing the venerable mansion and erecting "The Homestead" apartments, which survive.

photo via apartments.com

Clarence True's 842 and 844 St. Nicholas Avenue

The contrast of materials and colors is hidden beneath a misguided coat of paint on No. 844.

The Aldhouse Taylor Building Company was formed in 1893 and its first project was the construction of a row of handsome, brownstone-faced rowhouses designed by John C. Burne on the east side of St. Nicholas Avenue between 152nd and 153rd Streets.  For some reason, possibly a financial issue with the start-up company, the project did not include all the plots.  In 1894 Aldhouse Taylor Building Company sold Nos. 842 and 844 to developer Charles G. Judson.

Judson had effectively kick-started the career of architect Clarence F. True in 1890.  In private practice for only five years after leaving the office of Richard M. Upjohn, True was receiving scattered commissions.  But Judson, whose office was in the same building with True's, contracted him to design a string of rowhouses that year and the two would work together on several similar projects going forward.  So Judson's choice of True for the pair of upscale residences in Sugar Hill was not surprising.

Clarence True worked in historic styles, often playing with period accuracy either to create a slightly lighthearted air or simply to conform the structure to modern tastes and needs.  His designs for the St. Nicholas Avenue dwellings would stand in stark contrast to the John C. Burne homes.

Completed in 1895 the pair were designed in the romantic Northern Renaissance Revival style, two fairy tale ready houses within a neighborhood of wealth.  Faced in beige brick, they were trimmed in limestone and brownstone.  Short, five-step stoops led to the entrances below elaborate carved panels--the address of No. 842 worked into the design.  The service entrance of No. 844 stood rather prominently to the right of the stoop; while that of No. 842 attempted to hide around the curve of the rounded, full-length bay next door.

No. 844 was the show-off of the pair.  Its own rounded bay stopped at three floors, where it provided a large balcony for the fourth floor behind a solid decorative wall.  The fifth floor took the form of a mansard broken by a prominent gable that engulfed a large, circular opening.

Just a bit more restrained, No. 842 shared identical carved tympana over the openings with its sister.   They included delicate wreaths, ribbons and festoons at the second floor, and shields and swags at the third.  The rounded bay culminated in a witch's hat cone, next to a reserved dormer that pierced the mansard.

A small section illustrates the contrast of limestone, brownstone and beige brick, along with the intricate carvings.

Charles G. Judson had erected scores of similar houses by now, many of them in the developing Upper West Side area.  And that may have been his downfall--he was building too fast.  He moved his family into No. 842 and rented No. 844 to widow Eilen H. Williams.  But John F. Comey was soon pressing for payment of his building loan.

On November 9, 1896 Judson appears to have begun to panic.  His advertisement in the New York Herald was entitled "Absolute Bargain--Investigate."  He touted the two American  basement dwellings as having "hard wood throughout, exposed plumbing" and stressed "must be sold; want offer."

In July 1898 John F. Comey's patience was exhausted and he foreclosed.  Judson now became a tenant of Comey, like Eilen Williams next door.  The following year, in June, Charles G. Judson declared bankruptcy.

Judson lived in the house with his wife, two daughters and two Irish servants at least through 1904, proof that his financial problems did not impoverish the family.   And he managed to continue in the development field.  In February 1902, for instance, the New-York Daily Tribune reported that he was in the process of erecting a nine-story brick hotel on Broadway at 95th Street.

Things were not so comfortable, however, that the Judsons did not have to take in at least one boarder.  Another well-known real estate developer, James D. Matthews, was living with the family at the same time.  Conversations over the dinner table may have resulted in a boon for one architectural firm.  Matthews was also erecting a hotel in 1902, his on West 58th Street near Eighth Avenue.  Both his and Judson's hotels were designed by Ross & McNeil.


Comey traded No. 844 to Max Marx in October 1900, taking a vacant plot on Broadway at 186th Street in exchange.  But he retained possession of No. 842, and in 1905 it was being operated as a high-end boarding house.  Living here that year were Sarah Hyams, who taught cooking in the New York City Public School System's "Special Branches," Henry Hoag Tibbs, a young civil engineer, and James Pierpont Davenport and his wife.

Born in 1856 in Brooklyn, Davenport was a Yale educated attorney and a Justice of the Civil District Court in New York City.  But his passion seems not to have been law, but poetry.  His muse had made her appearance as early as June 1877.  On the Tuesday before his graduation, there was an ivy-planting ceremony at Yale.  His classmates all sang "Ivy Ode" the words and music to which he had composed.

Charles H. Crandall's 1891 Representative Sonnets by American Poets included two by Davenport, "To Julian M. Sturtevant, D. D." and "To A. Benedict Davenport."

An advertisement in The New York Times on November 29, 1906 hinted at the genial accommodations at No. 844.  "Fine warm, pleasant room; excellent board; table guests accommodated."  Table guests were invited guests of boarders, not residents.   That a landlady would not only accept additional mouths to feed, but advertise that they were welcomed, testified to the rents the boarders were charged and the services they received.

In the meantime, Max Marx had leased No. 844 to John T. Fisher and his wife.  The house was the scene of a funeral and a wedding in quick succession in 1901.  Fisher's wife was the daughter of wealthy real estate operator Grenville R. Benson and his wife, the former Irene Elliott.  Irene Elliott Benson was a well-known author and poet.

On March 7, 1901 the New York Herald reported that Grenville R. Benson had "died at St. Vincent's Hospital after an accident."  The funeral of the 61-year old was held in the Fisher house two days later.

Somewhat surprisingly soon, Mrs. Fisher's sister, also named Irene Elliott Benson, was married to Frederick W. Longfellow in the house on April 29.  Form: An Illustrated Weekly called her "talented and handsome" and said "besides being a perfect brunette, is a perfect whip [i.e. horsewoman], dancer and swimmer, and well as being the possessor of many other sterling qualities."  

Irene Elliott Benson was married in No. 844 St. Nicholas Avenue in March 1901. Form, magazine 1898 (copyright expired) 

The New York Press reported that the bride "was given away by her sister," and noted "The house was prettily trimmed with Southern smilax, bride roses and Easter lilies."

After leasing the house for several years, Fisher purchased No. 844 in September 1904.

In 1908 John F. Comey sold No. 842 to operators Lowenfeld & Prager.  It continued to be operated as a boarding house and Henry H. Tibbs was still living here that year when he took a new job with the engineering and contracting firm of J. G. White & Co.  His boarding house days would come to an end in 1913 when he married Lucina Maud Taylor.

The boarders in No. 842 continued to be well-to-do.  In 1911 Herbert I. Lindsley and his wife lived here, her name appearing in Club Women of New York.  She was a member of the Clio Club, founded in 1892; a literary group which admitted men only "to partial participation."

Michael Maloney and his wife, Anne, also boarded here at the time.  They were listed in the New York Blue Book, a social register.  Anne died in the house in October 1914, and Michael stayed on until his death on February 9, 1918.

Following the end of World War I the tenor of the St. Nicholas Avenue block was still upscale.  After the Fishers sold No. 844 in June 1913, it became one of Anna Corning's many homes around the country.  And No. 842 was still accommodating wealthy boarders.  An advertisement in The Evening Telegram on October 21, 1920 described an "Exceptionally large, sunny 3 room suite, exquisitely furnished in mahogany, exclusive neighborhood."

The death of Anna Corning at the age of 80 on December 18, 1927 came at a time when the exclusive Sugar Hill neighborhood was seeing the first signs of decline.  The crash of Harlem real estate values had begun in 1904, mostly due to the arrival of the subways.  But this immediate neighborhood had hung on, for now.

The wealthy spinster's will caused upheaval for months.  She had left to the city of New York all "objects and articles of art, painting and sculpture," in her Rochester, New York mansion, the St. Nicholas Avenue house, "and in her possession 'at any other place in the world,'" as reported by the Rochester Times-Union on April 27, 1928.  "Any other place in the world" meant her total of 13 homes.  Potential heirs were not pleased.

Henry Ford quickly moved to obtain some of the eccentric woman's possessions for his Dearborn, Michigan museum.  The New York Times reported on November 19, 1928 that a sale of her vehicles included "A Russian sleigh more than 100 years old; a coach, cab, brougham and other smart equipages, as fashionable in the halcyon days of the pioneer aristocracy as the smartest limousine today."  The largest vehicle sold was the Corning family coach, designed to carry six passengers and "elaborately finished inside and out."

The glory days of the St. Nicholas Avenue block had set by now.  When No. 842 was offered for sale in 1924 it was described as a "furnished room[ing] house."

The stone base is actually limestone, its chocolate brown paint looking today like brownstone.

Forty-seven year old Otto Glick rented one of those rooms during the Great Depression.  The president of the Expert Bindery Company on West 29th Street, he was unable to deal with business troubles anymore on July 30, 1935.  He was found hanging in his office that day.

Once home to an heiress with 13 residences, No. 844 received a multiple dwelling violation in 1934, for illegally renting rooms.   Ernest Johnson was renting a room in the house in 1945 when he and two others, Charles Carlos and Oliver Bernard, were "arrested for vagrancy when they could give no explanation for lurking in doorways along Eighth Av.," according to the New York Evening Post.

But the 21st century saw a turn-around in the Sugar Hill neighborhood.  In 2006 the Department of Buildings recorded the "change in use from SRO to Four Family dwelling" at No. 844; and a renovation completed in 2015 resulted in a day care center on the first and second floors of No. 842, with one apartment on the third and two on the fourth floors.

While both have admittedly suffered abuse, overall their fanciful appearance--patently Clarence True--survives after a century and a quarter.

photographs by the author

The 1854 Francis Alexandre House - 29 West 27th Street

Immediately after the elegant Madison Square park was officially opened in 1847 the surrounding neighborhood began filling with handsome, upscale homes.  In 1852 John S. Myers began construction of a 24-foot wide, brownstone-fronted house at No. 29 West 27th Street.  

Construction took two years to complete.  A high stone stoop rose above the English basement to the entrance which, most likely, included an Italianate-style pediment supported by scrolled brackets.  The single floor-to-ceiling length parlor window may may have held French doors which opened onto a cast iron balcony.  The bracketed cornice did not extend completely to the ends of the structure; preferring to stand apart from its flanking neighbors.

Rather unexpectedly, the carriage house was directly next door.  Most private stables were located to the rear, or even a block or more away.  This was because of their unavoidable odors and noises.

It is unclear whether Myers actually moved into the house; but the whatever family lived here in 1859 had two vacancies in its domestic staff.  An advertisement on September 8 read: "Wanted--A Cook and Waiter Girl in a private family; they must assist each other with the washing and ironing, and have good city reference."  Cooks were often the most highly-paid of servants and asking one to do the menial task of laundry may have prompted the upheaval within the staff and resultant vacancies.

By 1868 the family of Frederick Francis Alexandre lived here.  Alexandre, who went only by his middle name, was born in New York City of French parents in 1809.  The Evening World later explained, "Early in life he adopted the calling of a sailor, and in his early manhood visited nearly every quarter of the globe.  While a seaman before the mast his attention was attracted to the favorable opportunities for trade between Gulf of Mexico ports and the United States."  By the time he moved his family into the 27th Street house he ran the Alexandre & Sons steamship company.

Francis and his wife, the former Mary Civilise Cipriant, had four sons, J. Henry, Joseph James, John Ernest, and Francis Victor.  They were all involved in their father's firm.

On December 31 1868 the Louisville Courier-Journal ran an article entitled "The Fashionable French in New York."  In enlightening its readers of the city's wealthy French-Americans it noted "Among our leading French residents may be mentioned Mons. Francis Alexandre, of West Twenty-seventh street, whose wife leads a portion of our French fashionable population, and whose liege lord makes no secret of the fact that he commenced life as a cabin boy, their present success being creditable to all parties concerned."

In the second half of the century many of the wealthiest New Yorkers like would breed expensive racing horses.  Alexandre seems to have gotten into the sport early on.  On April 20, 1871 he ran an advertisement in The New York Herald offering:

Saddle Beast For Sale--Is a very fine three-fourths bred Kentucky mare, 6 years old, 15-1/2 hands high; perfectly sound and kind; is a superior horse for the saddle; has been driven in Tilbury.  Apply at 29 West Twenty-seventh street, and can be seen at private stable next door. 

The following year Francis Alexandre & Sons received a massively lucrative Government contract.  On February 23 the Postmaster General gave the firm a 10-year contract to carry the mails between New York, Cuba, the Yucatan and Mexico.  The deal required a ship to leave New York once every two weeks.  Each round trip voyage grossed the firm $5,000--in the neighborhood of $105,000 today.

The family suffered shock and grief when 34-year-old Francis Victor died on Friday evening, April 7, 1876.  His funeral was held in St. Francis Xavier's church in Greenwich Village three days later.

During the winter of 1882 Mary contracted pneumonia.  The 71-year-old died in the 27th Street house on February 13.  Her funeral, too, was held at St. Francis Xavier.

On May 30, 1883 the New-York Tribune reported that actress Mary Anderson had left the city for Europe on the steamship Arizona.  But the article devoted even more space to another passenger:

On the vessel also was Frencis Alexandre, of F. Alexandre & Sons, owners of the New-York, Havana and Mexican Steamship Line.  As the vessel passed down the bay he was greeted with gun-salutes from several yachts, and a gun-salute from Pier No. 3, North River.  

The fantastic show of esteem for Alexandre was not without one mishap.  One of the cannon wads--the material stuffed in front of the gun powder--flew out and hit a structure on the end of Pier No. 4, setting it on fire.

In June 1888 negotiations were completed for the purchase of the F. Alexandre & Sons business by the New-York and Cuba Steamship Company.  On June 23 the New-York Tribune explained "The members of the firm of Francis Alexandre & Sons will retire altogether from the steamship business, but will for some time carry on their commission business."

Francis retired to the family's summer home, described by The Evening World as "a valuable estate on Staten Island."   But he would not enjoy his leisure time for long.  The following year, on June 9, 1889, he died there at the age of 80.  His funeral was held at Calvary Church on Fourth Avenue (later Park Avenue).  The New York Times reported "Among the floral tributes was one reproducing in color and form the official flag of the Alexandre steamships."

The following year the Alexandre brothers sold off their father's properties on West 27th Street.  The once-exclusive residential neighborhood was by now mostly commercial.  In 1900 the new owner, apparently Maria L. Frith, removed the stoop and installed a storefront at the former basement level.  The upper floors were rented as apartments.

Maria Frith died around 1902, but her estate retained possession of the building.  In May 1905 a major renovation was completed which did away with any remaining interior details of the Alexandre house.  Architect M. C. Merritt's plans called for a five-story extension to the rear, installation of an elevator and vent shaft, new floor beams and windows.  The signification alteration, which cost the estate more than half a million in today's dollars, resulted in what the Record & Guide described as a "hotel and restaurant."  Just five years later, in January 1907, Merritt was called back to replace the windows and interior stairs.

Among those living in the renovated apartments in 1908 was importer George Zacuoff.  He found himself in night court on February 20 after having engaged in very ungentlemanly behavior on Broadway.

Deputy Police Commissioner  Bugher had happened to be at 41st Street and Broadway that night when, according to The Sun, "he came upon a man clawing another man's face while a crowd looked on.  Mr. Bugher blew his whistle and Policeman Van Delft of the Broadway squad arrested the men."

According to Henry J. Samson, the man "who had his face clawed," he had seen Zacuoff on 34th Street "annoying girls who were leaving a department store."  When he told him to stop, a quarrel ensued which continued up Broadway, finally erupting into fisticuffs.

Zacuoff's story was different.  He told the judge that Samson had started the fight "without particular cause" and he had defended himself strenuously enough to result in Samson's face being badly scratched and bleeding.  Both men were fined $2 (about $56 today).  "Zacuoff paid and hurried away," wrote The Sun.

The well-heeled residents in 1915 included real estate developer Frank Meserocchi.  He was busy erecting a hotel on Ocean Avenue in Brooklyn that year.

No. 29 was still being operated by the Frith family as a residential hotel and restaurant in July 1919 when a new dumbwaiter was installed and the storefront extended forward.

The restaurant was gone by 1922, replaced by the Bell Skirt Company.  In 1933 Department of Buildings records showed a store on the first floor, caretaker's apartment on the second, and furnished rooms above.  In 1982 a renovation resulted in "first class" apartment on the floors above the ground floor stores.

Today the garish storefront draws attention away from the 1854 facade above it.  Looking up, and without too much imagination, one can imagine the wealthy Alexandres mounting the brownstone stoop to enter what were lavishly-furnished rooms.

photographs by the author

The 7th District Police Court - 314 West 54th Street

The City Beautiful Movement was born during a time of social reform.  Its proponents proposed that by surrounding the public with grand, beautiful buildings a sense of moral and civic virtue would be sparked.  Crime and immorality would be replaced by pride.  

But that theory did not work in Hell's Kitchen.

The district on the West Side of Manhattan was among the most crime-ridden and impoverished in the city.  In 1881 The New York Times called the area “one of the most miserable and crime-polluted neighborhoods in this City” and said “there is more disease, crime, squalor, and vice to the square inch in this part of New-York.” 

In 1892 the State Legislature approved the "issue of $300,000 bonds to pay for new Seventh District police court."  It was a significant amount, more than $8.5 million today.   The city hired architect John H. Duncan to design the multi-use structure and his Renaissance Revival style structure would comply handsomely with the City Beautiful Movement.

Construction began in 1894 and was completed two years later.  Quickly called The West Side Court, its rusticated stone base drew inspiration from palazzo architecture, its three grand arched entrances sitting  two steps above the sidewalk.  A pair of ornate carved cartouches upheld a panel reading VII DISTRICT POLICE COURT.

The two stories above were faced in gray-beige brick.  Duncan lavished this section with sumptuous terra cotta embellishments in the form of banded Corinthian columns upon paneled pedestals which separated the grouped openings of the second and third floors, an intricate entablature of shields, wreaths and eagles that announced the Eleventh Judicial District Court, elaborate broken pediments that spilled forth sculptural forms above the flanking windows of the second floor, and a striking frieze below the overhanging cornice.  Above the cornice, originally, was a copper-sheathed mansard which sprouted a small tower with an open belfry.

Originally the flanking windows of the upper floor were round, changed in 1928.

Although the building was completed in 1896, there would be significant delays in getting the complex opening.  For one thing, Duncan quickly found that the boiler system was incorrectly installed and leaking.  It had to be redone--a situation that landed the City and the contractor in court for some time later.  

And on February 1, 1897 The New York Times reported that "Residents and politicians of the west side who were interested in the building of a new police court building...are angry because the City Magistrates do not assign a Magistrate to the court and open it for business...The building was completed nearly a year ago, and the civil court took possession some months ago."

The problem was, according to City Magistrate Robert C. Cornell, that the State Legislature had not supplied funds for a police clerk or chief clerk.  Those positions were necessary for the handling of fines.

It would be another nine months before the police court opened.  On November 4, 1897 the New-York Tribune reported that the "Seventh District Police Court took possession of its quarters in the new District Court Building in Fifty-fourth-st., near Eighth-ave., yesterday."  The newspaper noted "In the lower part of the building there are rooms for the Water Purveyor and the Street Cleaning Department of the district.  On the second floor is the police court and on the floor above is the civil court, with rooms for reporters and the Gerry society [the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children]."  Connected to the building in the rear was a jail.

The endless parade of hearings and trials--covering street bonfires, murder, arson, robbery, prostitution, assault and others--would continue unbroken for decades.  J. Waldere Kirk, who appeared before the judge on November 23, was among the first.  His attorney explained that he and Richard R. Mandelbaum had been friends for some time; but Kirk had become "too intimate with Mrs. Mandelbaum."  Kirk was "forbidden to communicate with her."  But when Mandelbaum came home unexpectedly one afternoon, he found Kirk with his wife in the bedroom.  When he demanded an explanation, Kirk shot him.

The following week a bizarre case unfolded in the courtroom.  Thirty-five year old bricklayer James Hanson was brought in to answer charges by his wife, Carrie, of abandoning her.  The Times said "She was unable to appear, however, having herself been arrested on a charge of chloroforming her husband."  It seems that Carrie had attempted to kill James by holding a chloroform-soaked towel over his face while he slept.  Thinking she had successfully killed him, she rushed from the boarding house.

On the way out she got into a quarrel with the landlady, who, suspecting that something was wrong, went up to the room and found the unconscious man.  Doctors were able to revive him.  In the meantime Carrie, assuming her husband was dead, filed charges that he had left her.  In the end it was Carrie who ended up in jail and James was a free man.

The menacing conditions of Hell's Kitchen were evidenced the following September when race riots erupted.  Blacks had been unofficially restricted from passing west of Ninth Avenue.  But an increase of the Black population and landlords' wanting to be paid was changing that.  One property owner told reporters "The negroes pay their rents regularly, and many of the whites do not."

Now, said The New York Times, the violent four days of rioting that broke out on Sunday 30 "was the direct result of a conflict of races for the supremacy of the neighborhood."  The white youths were the first to attack.  It ended in one white boy, Thomas Carney, dead, one horse killed, "and eight negroes and two white men with cuts and bruises too numerous to mention, and about forty-four prisoners, white and black, of both sexes."  There were far more victims who were not brought in.  The article noted the "numerous citizens who walked around the west side of town yesterday morning looking as through they had had intimate acquaintances with a buzz-saw or a threshing machine."

The string of hearings and jailing sentences that followed did little to quiet the racial tension.  A year later, on August 18, 1900, The New York Times reported that rioting seemed to have ceased "chiefly because of the severity of the police" who were ordered "to club the rioters into submission wherever they proved obstinate."  Despite that, rioting broke again within the week.   Victims, one with a stab wound to the stomach, were taken to hospitals and once again the courtrooms were filled with teens charged with a variety of associated crimes.

It turned out that some of the Hell's Kitchen policemen were no better than the rioters.  On September 24 Policemen Herman Ohm and John J. Cleary appeared in the West Side Court to answer charges "that they had, without cause, brutally beaten negroes in the race riots of last month," according to The Times.  The assaults were not solely upon rioters, either.  In one case, George L. Myers explained to the judge that he had gone downstairs to close the tenement building doors for protection.  Officer Cleary "rushed to him and assaulted him.  Then he was dragged to the street and pommeled.  One policeman whose name he did not know struck him a blow on the head with his nightstick which rendered him unconscious.  The stick was broken."

Almost all of the cases heard at the West Side Court reflected the tenor of the neighborhood.  After a complaint by Hattie Ross, a member of the Charity Organization Society and the Prison Reform Association, investigators went to No. 237 West 40th Street on November 1, 1900 where she claimed "was a disgraceful opium establishment."  In a fifth floor flat they found Mora Garrigan and three customers.  Garrigan had given them morphine through a hand-made hypodermic needle made of a rubber bulb used to fill fountain pens.  Bella Wilson, William Williams and Della Adams were lying on a bed, drugged.  All four were arrested.

They appeared before Magistrate Meade on November 2, and the judge did not hold back in his opinion of the women.  He called them "the most disgusting objects that he had ever seen."

The day before that hearing, the jail had been the scene of tragedy and frenzy.  Two prisoners, Frank Emerson, alias William B. Johnson, and Arthur Flanagan were held on the fourth floor awaiting trial for burglary.  Flanagan, who was just 19-years old, had his girlfriend, Deborah Whiting, bake a hack-saw blade into a sweet potato pie.  Little by little they sawed away at the bottom-most iron bars of the cell, so their work would not be noticed.

Around 2:00 on the morning of September 29 they squeezed through the opening just before Keeper Hugh McGovern's scheduled rounds.  They used one of the bars to crush the guard's skull, killing him.  Their plan was to use a rope made of blankets and bed ticking to slide 40-feet down to a 20-foot wall, then jump.  Flanagan went first and succeeded.  But Johnson missed the wall and fell headfirst onto a pile of iron rails.  He died immediately.

A touching act of kindness by the staff of the West Side Court occurred after Philip Raimondo was arrested on September 5, 1921 for stealing a loaf of bread.  A World War I veteran, Raimondo had served with the 11th Engineers in France where he was gassed.  He had been discharged from Knickerbocker Hospital two weeks before the theft.

The New York Herald reported "when Magistrate Simms  learned he was ill, penniless and starving...a collection of $7 was taken for him in the court room."  Raimondo's charges were dismissed.

In an interesting side note, the man's cousin Philip Raymond, appeared in the courtroom a few days later having read the story in the newspaper.  The family had been trying to track down Raimondo for some time.  One of his brothers, said The New York Herald, was a wealthy contractor.

A trio of would-be kidnappers that year would probably have drawn little notice if it were not that their target was Evelyn Nesbit, former showgirl and mistress of Stanford White.  She was at home reading when she heard voices outside her door.  Opening it, she was seized by a man and then two others rushed up.  The quick-witted Nesbit screamed "Fire!" knowing it would cause residents to rush to the hallways.  The three men fled.

As they ran from the building and jumped into a taxicab, they caught the attention of Policeman Michael McMahon, who jotted down the license number.  The kidnappers had not given up on their scheme and the cab soon returned.  McMahon started questioning the driver "when the three men jumped out and began beating him," reported The Evening World on September 19, 1921.

Beating a police officer in broad daylight was a bad idea.  "Other policemen rushed up and the three, who said they were Joseph Daly, John Werdmer and James Dunn, were subdued.  Wardmer being knocked unconscious."

The following day Evelyn Nesbit and her neighbors were in the West Side Court to identify the three men.  Evelyn pointed out Daly ("whom the police know as 'Spot'") as "the man who laid hands on her," said The Evening World.  She and the other residents identified the other two men as well, noting they "have disturbed the peace in that vicinity before."

In 1928 a major renovation to provide additional space for the Municipal Court included the removal of the mansard roof and the tower.  A flat-roofed upper story was built, set back from the facade.  The two circular windows on the third floor were replaced with more functional rectangular versions.

In 1936 an innovation in social services born in the West Side Court.  Agnes Adams, writing in The New York Post on January 19, 1937 began her article "At a time when women are being fairly sharply scored for their Meddelsome Mattie tendencies, an organization founded by a woman, financed and staffed by women, is rounding out its first year of service."  That organization was the Magistrates' Courts Social Service Bureau, headquartered in the Seventh District Court.

Founded by Magistrate Anna M. Cross, it had already handled 400 cases which, as she pointed out, touched "nearly three times as many individuals."  The purpose of the group, explained Adams, was "to give a person who finds himself in court with trouble on his hands a chance to tell somebody whose sympathies are colored by mercy as well as justice the story back of the immediate dilemma."

Judge Cross was more explicit, saying the aim was "to weigh the difference between the unfortunate and the vicious" and to circumvent punishment if possible.  Instead, corrective measures might be substituted for those delinquents whose petty crimes were caused by social or psychological issues.

By the Depression years a night court was being held in the building fro 8:00 to 1:00 in the morning.  It drew a crowd of wealthy New Yorkers who saw the proceedings as great entertainment.  The 1939 New York City Guide, published by the Work Progress Administration, explained "The Seventh District Magistrates Court, better known as the Men's Night Court, occupies the gray stone building at 314 West Fifty-fourth Street...Before rubbernecking was officially discouraged, Park Avenue in evening dress used to drop in to gape at the tragic parade of drunks, panhandlers pickpockets, wife beaters and brawlers."

The Magistrates' Court was removed from the building around 1944.  Beginning that year, through 1961, that space was leased to the General Services Administration for the Navy Shore Patrol and then the Armed Services Police Department.

Immediately after the West Side Police Court moved out in 1962, the building was taken over by the Clinton Youth and Family Center.   In 1967 architects Walfredo Toscanini and James Stewart Polshek, specialists in repurposing vintage structures, were hired to competed convert the building for the group operated by the YMCA of Greater New York and the Rotary Club of New York.  Completed in 1970, The New York Times architectural columnist Ada Louise Huxtable wrote about the transformation on January 31, 1971.

"It took faith, hope and $1 million in the case of the Clinton Youth and Family Center," she said.  Saying that it sits "in a section once known evocatively as Hell's Kitchen and now known sociologically as a multi-problem area.  The language is less colorful but the meaning is the same.  Too many of its people are poor and in trouble."

Much of the $1 million project--$850,000 to be exact--came from the Astor Foundation, a gift of Brook Astor.  Huxtable pointed out that "Outside, the visitor finds a cleaned-up...facade, virtually unchanged except for new doors in its triple-arched entrances."  The interior spaces were totally renovated, with new club rooms, a television room, gymnasium, dance area and music room, and even an adult lounge for parents.

The article pointed out that the 10,000 residents of Hell's Kitchen "are members of families with incomes of less than $3,000 a year.  They are the old and poor existing shakily in the only neighborhood they have ever called home."  The center's director, Harvey Newman, listed the neighborhood problems as "by-products of the crowded city--poverty, crime, narcotics, alcoholism, bitterness and hate."

Another renovation came after 1979 when the 42nd Street Local Development Corporation obtained a 10-year lease on the building, subleasing it two cultural institutions, the American Theatre of Actors and the Children's Museum of New York (which took the ground floor).

And then, in 1993, the building once again became home to a courthouse--the Midtown Community Court.  The court replaced the Children's Museum on the first floor.  Like Judge Anna M. Cross's Magistrates' Courts Social Service Bureau, it sought to provide alternatives to fines and jail for low-level criminals.  Sam Roberts wrote in The New York Times on June 7, 1993 that rather than locking up miscreants "The courts will seize the moment of arrest to delivery counseling, treatment for drug abuse and sexually transmitted diseases and other on-site services as gateways to potential self-improvement."  Also provided in the Midtown Community Court's space are a social services clinic, and fatherhood and workforce development programs.

John H. Dunan's handsome courts building, albeit beheaded, and slightly altered, looks little different today than it did in 1896 when the mere presence of an imposing building was thought to imbue a sense of scruples and pride among the neighborhood residents.

photographs by the author