Jacob Wrey Mould's Cherry Hill Fountain - Central Park

 

Early in the development of Central Park, designer and architect Jacob Wrey Mould was hired as a part-time assistant to Calvert Vaux.  Mould, who had arrived in New York from London in 1852, was already a master of bold color and exotic design, having worked for years under the preeminent Owen Jones.  The arrangement was successful and in 1857 Mould was hired full-time as an assistant city architect.

Much of Mould's earlier work in the park were the decorative elements of Vaux's buildings and ornamental features--the sculptural details of The Terrace, for instance, and smaller items like lampposts and drinking fountains.  But by the 1860s he was designing features on his own, like the 1862 Music Pavilion.  In 1867 he began work on the Cherry Hill Fountain, a park feature that would be patently Mould.

Located east of Bethesda Terrace, Cherry Hill was named for the many ornamental cherry trees planted there.  Calvert Vaux and Frederick Law Olmsted laid out a circular carriage turn-around branching off the Terrace Drive.  In its center was to be an ornamental "Drinking Fountain for Horses."

Mould's intricate plans for the finial show the basin and stem in less detail.  Blue watercolor streams of water spurt into the individual bird cups.  No lamps were included in the original designs.  from the  NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Mould designed an elaborate fountain in which water flowed from eight spouts into decorative saucers in which birds could drink or bathe.  These, in turn, overflowed over a polished granite, egg-shaped portion of the base that caused the water to fall in sheets into the basin.

Mould's meticulous attention to detail and color is exemplified by his design of one of the Cherry Hill Fountain porcelain bird cups, almost universally mislabeled as a wall sconce.  from the collection of the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Mould specified that the upper portion of the fountain be executed "in pure light bronze," and decorated the stem with colorful Minton tiles.

The "drinking fountain for horses" was complete in 1870.  According to Francis R. Kowsky's 2023 book Hell on Color, Sweet on Song, Jacob Wrey Mould and the Artful Beauty of Central Park, "Mould added the pleasurable sight and sound of moving water to the charm of this popular resting spot.  The fountain attracted people and their steeds to what was one of Mould's most cheery park furnishings."

The late 20th century was not kind to Central Park.  On June 14, 1976, New York Magazine wrote, "Cherry Hill is one of the park's main viewing stations.  Although it is now used as a parking lot, in bygone days horses were watered at the fountain while carriages paused to let their passengers admire the vista across the lake."  Jacob Wrey Mould's fountain, no longer functioning, sat dry and in desperate need of restoration.  The article noted, "the necessary plumbing and stonework repair would cost $25,000."

Clement and Elizabeth Moore provided $20,000 towards a full-scale restoration.  Finally, on August 7, 1998, the water flowed again.  The Central Park Conservancy's website says, "As a part of this work, the Conservancy realized Mould's original design with the bird cups and lamps."  When the lamps became part of Mould's design is perplexing, for they are obviously absent from the 1867 original plans.  Nevertheless, they are convincingly Mould in flavor.

After he turned the underground valves to activate the fountain, Peter Champe, the Central Park Conservancy's director of conservation and sculpture talked to Douglas Martin of The New York Times.  Martin reported, "Mr. Champe sees the fountain's creation in the 1800's as something of a lark.  He imagines the architect Calvert Vaux, one of the designers of Central Park, going to his associate Jacob Wrey Mould and saying: 'Jacob, why don't you go out and design a horse trough.  Make it look nice.'"

Martin added that, while the fountain had been restored, "one thing, though, has changed: horses are no longer permitted to drink from what was once their own fountain."

photographs by the author

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The Lost Central Park Music Pavilion

from Fifth Annual Report of the Board of Commissioners of Central Park, January, 1862 (copyright expired)

Born in London in 1825, Jacob Wrey Mould worked under master architect Owen Jones for two years doing meticulous study of the Alhambra in Spain.  The experience left him with an appreciation of Moorish architecture and the use of brilliant colors.  After working with Jones on decorations for The Great Exhibition in London in 1851, he relocated to New York City in 1852 to work on the Crystal Palace Exhibition.

In 1853, the year the Crystal Palace opened, state officials approved funds to purchase land for a central park, based on the grand open areas of European cities, like the Bois de Boulogne or Hyde Park.  Mould was brought on part-time to work with the planners, Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux, in making Central Park a reality.  In 1857 he was given a permanent position as assistant city architect.

A temporary bandstand was erected in the Ramble within the park in 1859.  An staggering 5,000 people attended the first concert.  By 1862 Vaux and Mould agreed that a permanent structure was desperately needed.  Mould drew up preliminary plans, which were presented to the Board of Commissioners of Central Park.  On February 6, 1862, Commissioner Andrew Haswell Green announced, "Resolved, That a music stand be constructed on the plan this day submitted, provided there are sufficient funds to construct the same, that can be taken from the maintenance fund."

(Interestingly, Andrew Haswell Green proposed that Mould's bandstand, or Musician's Pagoda, be erected on a barge to be floated upon the Lake.  It was felt that the water would carry the sound, and the bandstand could be moved out of the way when not in use.)

The plans typified Mould's passion for exotic design and vivid color.  Andrew Zega and Bernd H. Dams, Central Park NYC: An Architectural View.

Quintessentially Mould, the Musician's Pagoda, as it was originally called, was like an exotic souvenir of a trip to the East.  Brilliantly polychromed, its pencil-thin, cast iron columns upheld a Moorish-influenced roof and golden dome crowned by a filigree finial.  Clarence Cook, in his A Description of the New York Central Park, gave the sometimes overlooked architect unabashed praise.  "The Music-stand itself is decorated with colors and gilding after a design by Mr. Jacob Wrey Mould, a gentleman to whom...the public is indebted for almost all the decorative work in the Park."

The music pavilion was erected at the north end of the Mall.  On July 25, 1863, The New York Times described it, saying:

A highly ornate structure, something similar in appearance to a Chinese pagoda, is located on the Mall, and used by the band on Saturday afternoons, when visitors by the thousand assemble to listen to the selections of music which comprise popular pieces, as well as others of a more artistic character.  The spaded Verandah, on the hill directly east of the Mall, is a fine shelter for people who wish to sit and hear the music.  It is to be covered by-and-by with vines.  East of that is the "Concourse," or stand for carriages, where they remain while the band is playing, and here also is the refectory for ladies, which will soon be opened for the supply of ices and the lighter character of refreshments.

This mid-Victorian stereoscope slide was titled "The Music Stand."  from the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Herbert Mitchell Collection.

Central Park was intended, as it is now, for everyone--the fashionable, the middle-class, and the struggling.  And, even though the wealthy were away during the hot summer months, the free concerts attracted a microcosm of Manhattanites.  On July 9, 1865, an article in The New York Times vividly (and poetically) described the throng:

The crowd, like all New-York crowds, was a perfect study--a kaleidoscopic picture of New-York life.  Richly dressed ladies of fashion, with their attendant shadows, of the genus dandy; the newly "come-out" belle, all freshness and life, culling her first and sweetest triumphs; the artist and the lawyer--one dreaming of fame to come, and the other pondering upon some knotting question that had puzzled his wits in the morning courts; the nurse-maid and her romping group of little ones, her patience almost gone beneath the troubles of keeping proper watch and ward over her mischievous charge; the clerk, just escaped from his counter or his books, obtaining a fresh lease of life at every breath as he saunters about; the sewing-girl, having forsaken the needle or "the machine" for a few hours of calm enjoyment: all classes of society existing in this great hive of metropolitan industry and wealth, of idleness and poverty; the happy and the unhappy, some with health tingling in their veins, while others came to gain a little more strength for the struggle of life.

Calling the pavilion "the admirable design of Mr. Mould," in 1866 Miller's New Guide to Central Park noted that the concerts were held every "fine Wednesday and Saturday afternoon in summer-time."  It pointed out the popularity of the events, saying "thousands [enjoy] the pleasant strains, while lounging on the lawns around, or on the rustic seats amply provided, and other thousands, while lolling in their luxurious carriages along the drives, and on the Concourse hard by."  

The annual cost of providing free concerts in 1866 was $5,000.  It was paid in part, explained Millers New Guide, "by the contributions of the various railway companies."  It was a solid investment for the street railways, or streetcar companies, since large concert attendance meant increased fares.

Two decades after its first concert, in 1886 the Parks Commissioners set aside $3,000 "to raise and otherwise improve the music stand on the Mall."  Jacob Wrey Mould reworked his original design, streamlining some of its more intricate elements.

Jacob Wrey Mould's plans to "improve" the bandstand.  from the NYC Municipal Archives.

The crush of attendees sometimes caused problems.  Such was the case on June 12, 1893 when "wealthy Mrs. Matilda Levi," as described by The Evening World could find no seat.  In the meantime, Professor Charles Mautner, a former instructor of Latin and Greek at the University in St. Paul and at the De la Salle Institute in Washington, had found one.

The newspaper said Professor Mautner, "had placidly seated himself yesterday afternoon in convenient proximity to the music stand in Central Park and was drinking in the dulcet strains, when a small, obese figure in black, all radiant with diamonds, dropped seemingly from the clouds, upon the Professor's knee."

The small, obese figure, of course, was the 65-year-old Matilda Levi.  The article said her "avoirdupois conjointly with her age, somewhat ruffled the sweltering Professor's equanimity; and he promptly and energetically demanded withdrawal of the pressure which was rapidly driving the Professor's temperature way out of sight above the boiling point."  Mrs. Levi smacked Mautner "with both hands, leaving the imprint of her multi-jeweled fingers upon his face," said the article.  The incident caught the attention of Park Policeman Ryan, who arrested both.

from the collection of the NYC Municipal Archives.

Matilda Levi promptly furnished bail, while the professor was forced to spend the night in jail.  The following morning in court, Matilda appeared with her husband.  She insisted, "There was a little space on the seat next to Mr. Mautner and I tried to avail myself of it when Mr. Mautner called me vile names and threated to kill me as soon as we got out of the Park...He was going to beat me with his cane when the policeman put us both under arrest."  The judge discharged Mrs. Levi, "saying that she ought, next time, to choose cooler weather for sitting down on pleasure-seekers in the Park," as reported by The Evening World.

The sheer numbers of concert attendees around 1910 demanded a modern venue. from the collection of the NYC Municipal Archives.

In 1905, German immigrant and banker Elkan Nauburg, who had founded the Oratorio Society of New York, began personally funding the Central Park concerts.  He later offered to donate a modern bandshell to the park, and hired his nephew, William G. Tachau to draw the plans, completed in 1916.

In 1921 Jacob Wrey Mould's mid-Victorian masterwork was demolished and construction started on the Naumburg Bandshell, which was completed in September 1923.

The program for the opening concert in the Naumburg Bandshell on September 29, 1923 featured a depiction of the new structure.  

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The Jacob Wrey Mould House - 123 East 26th Street

 

When Jacob Wrey Mould arrived in New York from Britain in 1852, the 27-year-old architect had already established a name for himself.  He had studied with influential architect Owen Jones, known for his theories on ornament, color and patterning.  The two spent two years studying the Alhambra in Spain, a period that fostered Mould's appreciation for Moorish style architecture and vivid colors.  It resulted in his co-designing the Turkish Chamber in Buckingham Palace.

The young architect moved into a house on East 17th Street near fashionable Union Square Park.  Having designed ornamentation for London's 1851 Great Exhibition, he was  now commissioned to design details of the New York Crystal Palace, scheduled to open in 1853.  Although, according to Adolf K. Placzek in his 1982 Macmillan Encyclopedia of American Architects, Mould was considered "eccentric" and "ill-mannered," his career soared in New York.

He was hired to work shoulder-to-shoulder with Calvert Vaux and Frederick Law Olmsted on the design of Central Park and is responsible for some of its most notable ornaments--Belvedere Castle, the sumptuous carvings of Bethesda Terrace, and several bridges, among them.

Victor Prevost captioned this 1862 photo, "View of Willowdell Arch With the Team That Created Central Park Standing on the Pathway Over the Span."  pictured (L-R) are Andrew Haswell Green, George Waring, Calvert Vaux, Ignaz Anton Pilat, Jacob Wrey Mould, and Frederick Law Olmstead. Photos of the New Central Park, 1862 (copyright expired)

In 1859, two years after being hired as Assistant City Architect, Mould moved into the newly-built brownstone-faced house at 75 East 26th Street (renumbered 123 in 1865).  One of a row of identical homes, its narrow Italianate style included gently arched openings and understated architrave framing of the double-doored entrance.  Three stories tall above a high English basement, it was crowned with a ornamental cast metal cornice.

In addition to his Central Park work, by the time he purchased the East 26th Street house, he had designed the remarkable All Souls' Church on Park Avenue, and the interiors of the John A. C. Gray mansion on Fifth Avenue.  The Crayon described his color choices for that residence as "bold as a lion."

from A Description of the New York Central Park, 1869 (copyright expired)

The first shot in the Civil War was fired on April 12, 1861.  Seemingly tepid to the Union cause, an editorial in The New York Times on June 1 was titled, "Problem of the Negro Fugitives," and asked, "what shall we do with fifty or a hundred thousand?"  Jacob Wrey Mould gave his opinion (somewhat racist by a 21st century perspective) in a letter to the editor the same day that said in part:

Set them to constructing roads, to assist on earthworks, utilize them into transporters of provisions, or hospital attendants.  They are acclimated, and used to labor under a sun that will pour down disease and disaster on our hitherto unaccustomed Northern troops.  Nor could their loyalty be a very questionable point.  Whatever their previous attachment to their masters, their love for Liberty would transcend it, and they would pretty speedily recognize the fact that they were assisting in behalf of a Power destined most assuredly to work out that Liberty for them "to the full."

                                I am, Sir, yours respectfully,

                                Jacob Wrey Mould

                                No. 75 East Twenty-sixth street, N.Y.

Mould would have another issue to deal with that year.  It became known that he was living with a woman in the East 26th Street house.  Cohabitation without the solemnity of marriage was associated with the lower classes and, even then, was scandalous and disdainful.  He was ostracized by his friends and society in general.  But while he was personally disgraced, his career went on unaffected.

Mould was appointed Architect-in-Chief of Central Park in 1870.  In 1874, he traveled to Lima, Peru to design a public park commissioned by railroad builder Henry Meiggs.  He would not return until 1879.  In his absence, Minnie A. Madison, a widow and most likely his housekeeper, was listed as the resident of 123 East 26th Street.  

On June 16, 1886, The Sun reported, "Jacob Wrey Mould was one of the most accomplished architects in the United States in his branch of the art.  He died on Monday night of heart disease at his late residence, 123 East Twenty-sixth street."  Mould would have been 61 years old in two months.

Throughout the 1890s, the former Mould residence was home to Professor O. B. Douglass.  A physician and educator, he taught at the Post-Graduate School and was associated with the Manhattan Eye and Ear Hospital.

The stoop railings date from the late 1880's or 1890's, after Mould's death.  The originals would have looked like those in the background next door.

In July 1900, 123 East 26th Street was sold to Wright Barclay, who operated it as a boarding house.  It became home to professionals like Willis G. Braley, who was a commissioner of deeds in 1905.  

But not everything going on in the house was respectable.  On February 20, 1907, detectives were brought to the house by Morton Woodman of Fall River, Massachusetts.  He complained that he had been swindled out of his recent inheritance--a significant $6,500 in cash, or about $193,000 in 2023.  The New York Times reported, "He had met a man in a cigar store to whom he told of his $6,500 awaiting to earn something.  His new acquaintance told him that he had tapped the wires and could always win on the races.  Woodman was taken to a poolroom where he played a dollar and won five."  Convinced, Woodman drew his entire savings and, "Then he went with the men to 123 East Twenty-sixth Street, where he lost his fortune.”  Police and detectives broke down the door and found five men, "with racing sheets, charts, and a large quantity of 'phony money,'"  according to The New York Times.

Charles W. Akberg purchased the property from Wright Barclay in 1909.  His much more respectable boarder was Dr. Charles Kirtland Stillman, a 1900 graduate of Brown University.  He lived and practiced here in 1910.

In 1936, an office was installed in the basement level, possibly for another doctor, and the upper floors remodeled.  If Mould decorated his home--and there is little chance that he did not-- it was most likely at this time that his irreplaceable work was lost.  The configuration lasted until 1960 when the basement office was replaced by an apartment.  The upper floors, where one of America's greatest architects once lived, remain a private residence.

photographs by the author

many thanks to reader Ted Leather for prompting this post

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The Lost West Presbyterian Church - 29 West 42nd Street

from Valentine's Manual of Old New York, No.4, 1920 (copyright expired)

The West Presbyterian Church was organized in 1829 and incorporated in 1831, an outgrowth of the former North Church.  That year construction began on its handsome Greek Revival style building on Carmine Street, designed by Town & Davis.  Three decades of growth forced the congregation out of that structure, and in 1860 pastor Rev. Thomas S. Hastings moved the congregation into the chapel of the Rutgers Female Institute on West 42nd Street, between Fifth and Sixth Avenues.

The trustees hired British-born architect Jacob Wrey Mould to design a replacement structure on the site facing Bryant Park.  (Interestingly, Mould was simultaneously designing the Church of the Holy Trinity, just one block to the east.)  Credited with introducing the Victorian Gothic style to New York City, the architect had a full plate at the time.  He was also working with Calvert Vaux and Frederick Law Olmstead in designing elements of Central Park, and in 1857 had been appointed assistant city architect.

The new church was dedicated on April 30, 1865.  The New York Times described it as "a noteworthy addition to the church architecture of this city."  Patently Mould, the brick and stone structure erupted in shapes and angles.  The centered Gothic arched, story-and-a-half portico sat upon Victorian Gothic columns.  A six-sided steeple sat upon the tower to the west of the entrance, and a pyramidal roof over the sanctuary sat above stained glass panels that admitted extra light to the interior.

On December 11, 1865 the church was "the scene of an interesting musical entertainment; the occasion being the exhibition of a new and very beautiful organ, just completed for the edifice by Mr. L. U. Stuart," according to The New York Times.  Jacob Wrey Mould's design presented a challenge for Stuart.  "The instrument has been built on a novel plan, necessitated by the architectural requirements of the building...the great organ and swell divided by a space of some 60 feet, and manual in the center between the two."

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

After serving West Presbyterian for a quarter of a century, in 1881 Rev. Thomas Samuel Hastings stepped down to join the faculty of the Union Theological Seminary.  A hint of things to come appeared in The New York Times on January 23, 1882, when an article reported, "The Rev. John R. Paxton, of Washington D. C., delivered a sermon in the West Presbyterian Church, yesterday morning.  The church was crowded.  He spoke with fervor and in an impassioned manner."

Paxton was being wooed by the congregation to replace Hastings.  On February 13 The New York Times reported that his Washington congregation had begrudgingly withdrawn its refusal to accept his resignation.  The fiery preacher officially accepted the position as West Presbyterian Church's new pastor.

In 1884, Jacob Wrey Mould's interiors were given a massive redecoration by architect J. C. Cady.  On May 24 The Real Estate Record & Guide reported that the "extensive changes and improvements" would be completed by October.  

In the balcony will be placed a number of boxes, each of which will be provided with seats for eight persons, something after the style of the boxes in the Madison Square Theatre.  The choir, which now occupies a gallery above the pulpit, will be brought down to a level with the platform.  The church will be entirely-reupholstered and other minor changes will be made.

The renovations did not come cheaply, costing the congregation $60,000--more than $1.6 million today.  Near the end of Rev. Paxton's Thanksgiving Day sermon that year, he turned to "the evil of church debts."  If congregants expected that he was about to press them for donations, they would be happily surprised.  He read a letter from the treasurer which said the entire $60,000 debt had been paid anonymously.  "I do not know whether the sum was paid by one man or by several," he said, "but we can thank God that we have such generous, modest, and noble manhood among us.  I could propose three rousing cheers, but I mustn't.  I can only say, thank God."

The wealthy congregants earned West Presbyterian Church the nickname, the "Millionaire's Gate to Heaven."  The Record & Guide would later comment, "The wealth of its members was said to be $750,000,000."  

Among them were the Jay Goulds.  Unlike her financier husband, frequently decried as unscrupulous at best, Helen Miller Gould was known only for her philanthropies and kindness.  In 1887 she suffered a massive stroke, which left her paralyzed and unable to speak.  On January 15, 1889 The Patterson Morning Call began an article saying, "Mrs. Jay Gould, beloved by the large circle of friends in which she moved for her kindly manners and benevolences of heart, has at least found relief from the living death which she has endured so long."

Although her funeral was not held in the church, as some expected, but in the Gould mansion at 579 Fifth Avenue, it was officiated by Rev. Paxton, and a quartet from the church's choir sang.

An impressive funeral that did take place in the church was that of Civil War General Henry A. Barnum on February 1, 1892.  A military procession accompanied the casket from the Barnum home to the church.  "The coffin was placed on a caisson drawn by four horses," reported The New York Times.  "It was covered with the Stars and Stripes and on it were the hat and sword belonging to the dead officer."

The church was filled with millionaire mourners, like John D. Crimmins, Daniel Appleton, H. W. Dodge, Elliott F. Shepard and Lispenard Stewart, as well scores of high ranking officers and veterans.  Among the honorary pallbearers were Generals Fitz John Porter, Daniel E. Sickles, M. T. McMahon, Daniel Butterfield, and W. D. Whipple.

At the time of the funeral, storm clouds were about to form within the West Presbyterian Church.   The devastating Financial Panic of 1893 caused Rev. Paxton, never afraid to speak his mind from the pulpit, to become more outspoken about massive personal wealth.  It was a dangerous stance for the pastor of a millionaire congregation.

The Call, December 4, 1893

On December 2, 1893 The New York Times wrote, "Unless the white-winged dove of peace performs some extraordinary serial maneuver, there is a lively time ahead for the Paxtonites and the anti-Paxtonites in the West Presbyterian Church."  The faction the newspaper called the anti-Paxtonites was headed by Russell Sage and E. C. Van Glahn.  The article explained:

They say that although Mr. Sage has been sitting quietly in a front pew in the West Presbyterian church for many years with a look of rapt and benevolent interest on his countenance, drinking in with seeming unctuous approval the vigorous sermons of Dr. Paxton against miserly rich men, he has, in realty, been storing up a choice lot of opinions about vigorous sermons in general and about Dr. Paxton's in particular.

Rev. John R. Paxton resigned and promptly disappeared.  Then, on December 4 The Call reported, "Rev. John R. Paxton, pastor of the wealthy and aristocratic West church congregation of New York, who was reported missing for several days, was found by a representative of the Pittsburgh Dispatch last night at the residence of his wife's sister."  Paxton's interview with the reporter revealed his acrimony.  He said in part, "there never was and never will be any shame connected with 'Johnnie' Paxton's name...And now this young little kid of a clerk--this Van Glahn--he stands up in the West Presbyterian church and couples my name with 'shame.'"

The newspaper then quoted him as making an outrageous and shocking pronouncement.  "If I ever do go back to New York, it will be to kill one or two people.  Young Van Glahn--as for him, I'll cut his ears off."  And as for Russell Sage, who had said his sermons were not as good as they had been, Paxton said, "Now, what does he know about it?  With his deafness he couldn't have hard them.  I doubt if he could hear Gabriel's trumpet.  I know he will not want to hear it."

Reaction, as would be expected, was momentous.  The following day The New York Times reported, "The sensational statements accredited to Dr. John R. Paxton of New-York by a Pittsburg Sunday paper, and copied by this morning's papers, are absolutely without foundation."  A nephew of Paxton (who said the minister was too ill to leave his room) explained, "The main points of the interview are substantially correct, but the language is distorted and exaggerated.  My uncle never said that if he went back to New-York it would only be to kill somebody."  He also refuted the "epithets" against Van Glahn and Sage.

The ugly severance of the pastor and congregation most likely contributed to the difficulty in finding a replacement.  On March 18, 1894 The New York Times reported that a committee that included Russell Sage had twice offered the position to the Rev. Dr. Maltbie D. Babcock with a salary of $10,000 (about $310,000 today).  The minister told the reporter, "on both occasions when such overtures were made I thought proper, after careful and prayerful consideration of the matter, to decline."

A year later the situation was the same.  On June 3, 1895 a Springfield, Massachusetts newspaper reported, "A letter from Dr. [Philip] Moxom stating that he had declined the call to the West Presbyterian Church in New-York City was read in the South Church pulpit this morning."

Finally, in October 1895 the church found a new pastor in Rev. Anthony Harrison Evans.  The New York Times declared that after being "practically without a pastor of its own for nearly two years," West Presbyterian Church "has entered upon a new chapter of its existence."

The New York Times, October 3, 1895 (copyright expired)

But the relationship between the 33-year-old Evans, whom The New York Times described as "quiet, unassuming, and a trifle nervous," and his new congregation would be a rocky one.  Four years later, on March 14, 1899, The New York Times reported he "made no attempt at theatrical delivery.  He did not 'set off fireworks,' in the pulpit.  His sermons, though earnest and enthusiastic, well-delivered and thoroughly pleasing to many of this congregation, were apparently not showy enough to suit many of those who held expensive pews."  Among the dissatisfied was, once again, Russell Sage (who held the $45,000 mortgage on the building).

Evans tendered his resignation in March, 1899, but then was convinced to stay.  The decision did not sit well with Russell Sage and he and the entire Board of Trustees, with the exception of two, resigned within two months.  If Sage expected the congregation to beg him to return, it was not going to happen.

By the beginning of October that year, the church's debts had been paid and things were going well.  On October 9 an article in The New York Times quoted a new trustee who said, "I do not know whether Russell Sage has left us for good; he hasn't attended the services so far this Fall.  Under the new management everything is progressing satisfactorily, and the greatest harmony and good feeling prevail."

Commerce had begun creeping onto the block when this photograph was taken at the last of the 19th century.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

The first decade of the 20th century saw great change in the 42nd Street neighborhood.  West Presbyterian Church merged with the Park Presbyterian church early in 1911.  On April 1, the Record & Guide reported that West Presbyterian Church had sold its property to Frederick G. Bourne, a director in the Aeolian Co. for $1.1 million--more than 30 times that much in today's money.  "A 16-story building is to take its place, at a cost of $1,500,000," said the article.  The Evening World recalled that over the years the church's members had included millionaires "Russell Sage, Jay Gould, J. Hood Wright, Alfred H. Smith, E. Francis Hyde, Seth Thomas, H. M. Flagler, Robert Jaffray, and a score of other wealthy men."

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

The new Aeolian Building, designed by Warren & Wetmore was completed in 1920.  It survives as The State University of New York's College of Optometry.

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The Lost Church of the Holy Trinity - East 42nd and Madison Avenue

 

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

On September 8, 1864 The New York Times reported, "The corner-stone of the Church of the Holy Trinity, Madison-avenue, corner of East Forty-second-street, will be laid at 4 o'clock this afternoon.  This is a new enterprise, started by Rev. Stephen H. Tyng, Jr., in the Rutger's Institute Chapel, early last Spring."  The congregation had commissioned architect Jacob Wrey Mould to design the structure.  This church promised to carry on his well-known affinity for colorful and somewhat exotic designs.  "The building is to be of blue and Ohio yellow stone, and brick laid in black mortar."

As the building rose, on May 6, 1865 The New York Times described the design.  "Mr. Mould has not assumed to embody any features of the so-called Gothic, Byzantine, Italian or renaissance styles, but simply such a combination of architectural elements as are best adapted to product a temporary, economical and yet commodious church building."  The writer praised Mould's "charming novelty of effect, and a cheerfulness of interior aspect that effectually combines the church with the home."

Jacob Wrey Mould's quaint, country-like church.  original source unknown

The church building was consecrated in 1865.  According to The New York Times, construction had cost $59,000--just under $1 million today.  Its northern location prompted Andrew C. Zabriskie, in an address to The American Numismatic and Archaeological Society, to say, "...the small brick Church of the Holy Trinity stood as a sentry on the edge of civilization."  But civilization was close on its heels.

As the Murray Hill neighborhood developed, the church was no longer able to accommodate its growing congregation.  On March 2, 1873 Rev. Stephen H. Tyng, Jr. delivered his last sermon in the building.  The New York Herald commented that "The elegant and well-known Church of the Holy Trinity...was filled to overflowing yesterday morning by parishioners and strangers to take part in the farewell services of this house of worship, as around the present structure there is already being laid the foundation of a more commodious and grander building."

Rev. Stephen H. Tyng, Jr. The American Portrait Gallery, 1877 (copyright expired)

The replacement structure had been designed by Leopold Eidlitz.  Construction was completed within the year, the first service being held on Easter Sunday, April 19, 1874.  Its $200,000 cost would equal a staggering $4.7 million in today's money.   The New York Times described it saying, "both externally and internally [it] is one of the finest in the City, and, from a purely architectural standpoint, is an ornament to the flourishing locality in which it is situated."

The Daily Graphic, April 28, 1874 (copyright expired)

Eidlitz's Ruskinian Gothic design featured polychrome brick and stonework, colorful decorative brick diapering, and multi-hued patterns in the slate roof and steeples.  The main tower contained two belfries and rose 190 feet.  The interior was a departure from expected church architecture, its seating arranged in amphitheater style.  The New York Times wrote, "The ground plan of the building might, in the first instance, suggest the idea of a theatre, in respect to the arrangement of the pews, but the general features of church architecture are so adhered to as to dispel this illusion."  

The New York Herald wrote:

The interior of this church is both handsome and comfortable.  The Gothic roof and the gilding and decorations in renaissance have an excellent effect.  There is a happy combination in the amount of color introduced.  As for the upholstering, it appears to have been designed to make the congregation feel a delightful sense of repose.

The large building accommodated the church's several outreach programs.  Holy Trinity operated a dispensary for "the suffering and afflicted poor" and "presided over by able and benevolent physicians," according to The New York Times.  Upstairs were the Sunday school, and a large sewing school.  The church supported the House of the Evangelists upstate, an orphanage, a "Reformatory Farm" near Sing Sing, and five mission chapels.

In the basement of the church indigent locals were fed--what today would be called a church soup kitchen.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

In 1887 Rev. Edward Walpole Warren took over the pulpit from Rev. Stephen Tyng.  But for a while it appeared the congregation would have to find another replacement.   Warren was "imported from London by the vestrymen of the Church of the Holy Trinity in the Fall of 1887," as worded by The Evening World.  He arrived in New York about the same time that John S. Kennedy "engaged a skilled gardener in Scotland to come to America and take charge of his country estate," according to that newspaper.

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

Authorities, citing the Contract Labor Law which banned imported labor, refused the Scottish gardener entry into the country.  In response, Kennedy, "to show the folly of the law," demanded that Rev. Warren be deported as well.  The case ended up in the courts, which held that Warren was, indeed, "an imported laborer under contract," however deemed him a "teacher," an excepted class under the law.

Rev. Warren brought the ire of New Yorkers in general upon himself five years later.  When asked by a reporter why he had not yet sought citizenship, he replied:

I have refrained from taking out papers as a citizen of New York because the city is so wicked and corrupt that I would not wish to be identified with it, even as a voter.  Until it has rid itself of an administration that is vile from top to bottom I will remain an alien.  The entire municipal machine, I believe, from Mayor Grant down, is absolutely corrupt.

On April 10, 1892 a reporter from The Evening World went to services at the "ultra-fashionable" church, in order to speak to Warren who had been elusive since his remarks.  He proved no easier to pin down in person.  

"Positively, no! I cannot be interviewed!  You must excuse me; I am too busy," he told the reporter.  He then "dropped into a pew and into a chat with one of his female parishioners, who had remained after the service."  The writer noted, "Dr. Warren, who has drawn a handsome salary and lived quite elegantly in this modern Sodom for nearly five years, only waved his small fat hand in a 'do go away' gesture, and the reporter withdrew."

The uncomfortable meeting had taken place in a newly renovated sanctuary.  Eidlitz's amphitheater configuration was completely remodeled.   The New York Times, on February 15, 1892, explained, "The old interior reminded one of a big concert hall.  It was elliptical in shape, and the acoustic properties were abominable."  The new motif was Gothic, according to the article, "and the result is a dignified and ecclesiastical house of worship."  The newspaper noted, "The cost has been very heavy."

Among the most notable additions was a memorial reredos donated by Mrs. Clara Bacon.  The New York Times said, "It is the largest mosaic and one of the most artistic ever placed in the United States."  The central panel, Our Blessed Lord Enthroned, was 14-feet high.  The vast work was executed by Charles R. Lamb, of J. & R. Lamb.

The remodeled, Gothic-style interior.  Clara Bacon's short-lived reredos is clearly visible.  original source unknown

The "very heavy" cost of the remodeling added to the already deep debt the congregation suffered.  It was the financial straw that broke the back of Holy Trinity.   Only two years later the Journal of the One Hundred and Eleventh Convention of the Diocese of New York explained, "The heavy debt upon the church had for nine years crippled all possibilities of doing a satisfactory work for so important a church (a debt which had rested on the church ever since its incorporation), and had made families afraid of joining membership with a church so financially embarrassed; and the noisy corner of Forty-second Street and Madison Avenue...had long been a cause of annoyance to the congregation."

Holy Trinity merged with St. James's Protestant Episcopal Church on 71st Street and Madison Avenue.  On November 1, 1895 The Sun reported that the combined parishes had sold former Holy Trinity structure for $900,000 (about $28.6 million today), "and with the proceeds pay off the indebtedness of both churches and erect a new church and parish house."

In its September 1895 issue, Metaphysical Magazine lamented, "...this extinction of churches reaches its climax in the sale of the Church of the Holy Trinity in Forty-second Street...And now this magnificent structure has been sold to a railway corporation."  The following year, in July 1896, The Church reported, "at this writing the very walls of the old...Church of the Holy Trinity, at East Forty-second Street and Madison Avenue, are in process of demolition...A business structure of mammoth proportions will be erected on the site where the conspicuously decorated edifice of Holy Trinity has long stood."

Today the site is occupied by the 93-story One Vanderbilt skyscraper.

photo by Sean Shang

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The Lost 1857 John A. C. Gray Mansion - 43 Fifth Avenue

 

The cross-hatched mullions of the attic windows were highly unusual.  American Renaissance, 1904 (copyright expired)

In 1857 John Alexander Clinton Gray hired architect British-born Jacob Wrey Mould to design the interiors for his mansion at the northeast corner of Fifth Avenue and 11th Street.  The two undoubtedly knew one another through their mutual work on Central Park--Gray was a Park Commissioner and Mould worked closely with Calvert Vaux and Frederick Law Olmsted in designing many of the park's structures.

Mould was known for his unexpected and aggressive use of colors, and his work on the Gray interiors was no exception.  In 1859 The Crayon described his color choices for the rooms as "bold as a lion."

The brownstone faced John A. C. Gray mansion was a successful blend of the Greek Revival and Italianate styles.  Three stories tall above an English basement, its architrave openings wore bracketed cornices and each of the floor-to-ceiling parlor level windows was fronted by a cast iron balcony.  The cross-hatched mullions of the attic windows were an innovative touch.

In addition to his position as Park Commissioner, John Alexander Clinton Gray was the head of the dry goods house of John A. C. Gray & Co., and a director in the Goodhue Fire Insurance Company.  He and his wife, the former Susan Maria Zabriskie, had three sons, John Clinton, Albert Zabriskie and George Zabriskie, and two daughters, Katharine and Frances Susan.

When the family moved into the new house John Clinton Gray was away in Europe, studying in at the University of Berlin (he had received his earlier education in Paris).  He returned in 1861 and continued his education at the University of the City of New York, receiving his law degree from Harvard in 1866.  Both his brothers would go into religious life.

In the meantime, with the outbreak of Civil War John A. C. Gray had been called to Washington D.C. to inspect uniforms.  His expertise in the dry goods business made him an excellent choice.  A telegram received by the New York Herald on June 10, 1861 said in part, "Mr. John A. C. Gray is here, and, as a citizen of New York, with many others, has inspected the uniforms of the Cayuga regiment, and agrees with everybody else who has seen them, that they are most wretched looking things."

Gray's altruism was evidenced in 1871 when he threw his financial support behind the proposed construction of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Central Park.  His donation of $1,000 that year would be equivalent to more than $21,000 today.

George was ordained a deacon of the Episcopal Church by Bishop Horatio Potter on April 22, 1862.  Albert had also become an Episcopal minister and was rector of the St. Philip's Church in the Highlands, in Garrison, New York by the early 1870's.  When extensive repairs were necessary in 1875, Albert paid one-fourth of the costs.   He would go on to become dean of the Theological Seminary at Cambridge, Massachusetts before his untimely death at the age of 49 on August 4, 1889.

At the time of Albert's death his brother John had been appointed a judge on the Court of Appeals.  At 45 years old in 1888 he was the youngest member of the court.  He would serve for more than a quarter of a century in that position.

Judge John Clinton Gray.  from the collection of the Historical Society of the New York Courts.

Around 1885 the family of John A. C. Gray (his two daughters were still unmarried) moved north to Fifth Avenue and 55th Street.  He died there on December 15, 1898.  In the meantime, No. 43 Fifth Avenue became home to a relative, James Montaudevert Waterbury and his wife, the former Catherine Anthony Furman.  Catherine was best known as Kate.

Born in New York City in 1851, James graduated from Columbia College in 1873 and entered the business of his father, Lawrence Waterbury, the Waterbury Rope Company.  By now he was not only the president of that company, but of the New York Steel & Wire Company and the American Type Bar & Machine Company.

James and Kate had eight children and maintained a country estate in Westchester County.  Prominent and Progressive Americans said that Kate "has shared with him in making their home a notable center of social life."  Known as a great beauty, Kate entertained lavishly.  On February 5, 1888, for instance, the New York Amusement Gazette noted that she "gave a dance at her residence on Friday evening last."

A spectacular entertainment was held during at the beginning of the summer season of the following year.  On May 6, 1889 The Evening Bulletin reported:

A number of wealthy young men and women performed in an amateur circus Friday evening at the country resident of James M. Waterbury in Westchester county.  There was a large attendance of New York society people to witness the novel affair, which passed off with great success.

Godey's Magazine was popular among women and featured color plates of the latest fashions, serialized novels, and articles of interest to female readers.  It often featured illustrations of prominent women of society.  In its review of the current issue on October 31, 1892, the Albany Morning Express noted, "The four art pictures, printed in ten colors, represent Mrs. James M. Waterbury, the Marquise Lanza, Mrs. Marshal Orme Wilson and Mrs. George J. Gould."

As John A. C. Waterbury had done, James supported civic causes and in 1896 was listed among the prominent citizens who funded the erection of the Triumphal Arch at Washington Square.

Among the Waterbury sons were Lawrence (known popularly as Larry) and C. Livingston (known as Monty).  In 1902 Prominent and Progressive Americans noted, "Mr. Waterbury's sons inherit their father's and their grandfather's taste for manly out-of-door sports, and have distinguished themselves especially upon the polo-field."  Indeed both Lawrence and Monty achieved international renown for the polo playing.

Monty Livingston (front) and his brother Larry are wearing white in this undated photograph.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Shocking the financial world, James M. Waterbury's firm failed in 1893.  The District Attorney received complaints "charging James M. Waterbury with the crime of grand larceny by false pretenses, and also charging him, in connection with others, with the charge of conspiracy to defraud," according to The New York Times.  Those charges were withdrawn be the end of the year, but the stigma remained.

Waterbury claimed personal bankruptcy in 1896.  The New York Times noted on May 10, "In the days when Cordage Trust was flourishing Mr. Waterbury spent money lavishly.  His Westchester home was a country clubhouse in its appointments and hospitalities.  All show of prodigality ceased, however, with the collapse of the trust, and Mr. Waterbury has since lived quietly."  Asked in court how he managed to get on financially, the humiliated Waterbury replied, "My wife was continually making me advances to pay my debts, and I sold her some property from time to time."  It was Kate's own substantial fortune that kept the family afloat until her husband could reestablish himself.  

By the first years of the 20th century the neighborhood around the Waterbury mansion was changing as apartment buildings replaced private homes.  On June 18, 1903 The Sun reported that the Waterbury house had been sold for $350,000--a staggering $10.5 million today.  (Notably it had been mortgaged for more than half that amount.)  Before the end of the year the mansion was demolished, replaced by a lush Beaux Arts style apartment building designed by Henry Anderson.

photo by Beyond My Ken