James Renwick Jr.'s 1847 Grace Church Rectory - 804 Broadway

 

photo by Alice Lum

Henry Brevoort's country estate engulfed 86 acres between East 9th and 18th Streets and Fifth Avenue to the Bowery.  Wealthy and apparently stubborn, when Broadway was extended to meet the Bloomingdale Road he demanded that it take a sharp bend at 10th Street so as not to intrude on his land.  And because the family house sat directly upon the proposed site of 11th Street, between Broadway and the Bowery, he prevented the opening of 11th Street throughout the 1830's.  But following Brevoort's death in 1841, his son, Henry, Jr., began selling off the family lands.

Grace Episcopal Church had been located at Broadway and Rector Street since its organization in 1808.  Rector Thomas House Taylor and his congregation were considering an uptown move, following the northern migration of its fashionable members.  Two years after Henry Brevoort Sr.'s death, the trustees bought the large plot of land at the northeast corner of Broadway and East 10th Street.

It is possible that Henry Brevoort, Jr. worked a deal into the transaction.  His nephew, 23-year old James Renwick Jr., was an engineer with a bent towards architecture.  An engineer on the massive Croton Reservoir project, completed in 1842, he was responsible for its hulking Egyptian Revival design.  He had also designed a fountain in Bowling Green.  Nevertheless, with no formal training his architectural credentials were sorely lacking.

Renwick was given the commission to design the new Grace Church.  Rev. Taylor had spent extensive time in Europe touring the great Gothic cathedrals and it was most likely he who influenced Renwick's design choice.  Gothic Revival architecture was relatively new and Grace Church would be the first significant structure in the style in Manhattan.

The masterful white marble church was completed in 1846, followed closely by the rectory.  Sitting back within a grassy yard encircled by a magnificent Gothic Revival iron fence, the charming marble house echoed the church looming above it.  Renwick's skill at design resulted in a romantic edifice that refused to be overshadowed by its cathedral-like neighbor.

Although having the appearance of a cozy cottage, the rectory was essentially a mansion.  Renwick hid the actual symmetry of the floorplan by adding different faceted bays on either side of the centered entrance.  Gothic tracery, spires and crockets, and pointed arch windows combined to form an excruciatingly picturesque structure.

The charm of the rectory was deserving of its own postcard around the turn of the last century.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Grace Church was the second wealthiest Episcopal Church in New York, after Trinity Church.  In his 1882 New York by Gaslight, James D. McCabe, Jr. would point out, “At the morning service a greater display of wealth and fashion is presented here than at any other city church.  Grace Church has been the scene of more fashionable weddings and funerals than any other place of worship.”

Rectors of such churches were highly paid.  They and their families lived in a style similar to their millionaire congregants.  Many owned country estates and traveled to Europe or fashionable resorts in the summer months when their churches were closed.  

Rev. Henry Codman Potter was rector in 1875 when his wife, the former Eliza Rogers, planned an extended trip abroad.  She placed an ad in the New York Herald on September 30 hoping to find positions for excess servants who would not be needed in her absence:

804 Broadway, Grace Church Rectory--A lady, going to Europe, wishes to obtain situations for a cook, a seamstress and lady's maid, and a waitress, whom she can highly recommend.  Call for one week.

In 1880 James Renwick, Jr. was called back to design Grace House, a seamlessly matching 30-foot wide, three story structure that connected the church to the rectory.  The New-York Tribune reported on August 10 that it would have "a handsome white marble front, each story possessing a well-proportioned bay window.  Completed in 1881, it completed the country-like yard.

Renwick's Grace House perfectly complimented the rectory and the church.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

Henry C. Potter was elected Assistant Bishop of New York on September 27, 1883 and the rectory next became home to Rev. William Reed Huntington.  He and his wife, the former Theresa Reynolds, had two daughters, Margaret and Theresa, and a son, Francis.  Like their predecessors, they moved among society's elite.

During the debutante season of 1885-86 the rectory was the scene of a glittering entertainment.  On December 30, 1885 The New York Times reported "There was a tea and reception yesterday afternoon in honor of Dr. Huntington's second daughter, Miss Theresa, at the Grace Church Rectory.  The parlors in which the guests were received were hung with evergreens and decorated with flowers.  Miss Theresa, who reached her eighteenth birthday a few days since, wore a white satin dress, with a cluster of roses at the waist and diamond ornaments."  The guest list included society names like Depew, Tiffany, Dix, Reid, Duncan, and Kingsland. 

Among Huntington's staff in 1893 were assistant ministers Rev. Hubert M. Wells and Rev. George H. Bottome.  The kind-hearted men became victims of a masterful scam artist that year.  George Stabell traveled alone to New York from Denmark in 1891 at the age of 14.  With no friends and no money, according to The Sun, "he turned his good looks, easy manners, and quick intelligence to account."  He realized that the clergy were easy marks for a sad story and lived comfortably off his scams.

One-third of the rectory was enveloped in ivy in this late 19th century stereopticon view.  from the collection of the New York public Library

In January 1893 he turned his attentions to Grace Church.  The Sun reported a month later that he told Wells and Bottome "that he had not lived an exemplary life...He admitted he had been playing the races and living a fast life.  'Now I want to reform,' said he, with tears in his eyes...'I want to be a Christian and a gentleman.  I'm out of money and have no place to eat or sleep.  Give me a chance, just one chance.'"

Moved by the repentant teen's story, Wells took him to a boarding house on West 31st Street and paid a week's rent in advance.  He gave the boy letters of recommendation to use in finding a job.

The following week Stabell returned.  He said while he had made friends at the boarding house, he still was unable to find a job.  Wells gave him $10 to pay the next week's rent (about $295 today).  The very next day the boy returned, telling Rev. Wells:

A strange thing happened last night.  When I went to my room I found there my brother, my own brother, ragged, penniless, and cold.  His hat was gone, his shoes were flapping on his feet, and his clothes were in rags.  He begged for money.  What could I do?  I bought him a ticket back to Baltimore, and with what was left I got him a pair of shoes, a hat, and something to eat.  Did I do wrong?"

Stabell had so carefully planned his story that he knew the exact amount of a ticket to Baltimore.  Wells gave him another $10.

The Sun reported, "The next day the boy was back again, this time to see the other assistant, Mr. Bottome.  It was bitter cold, and he had on no overcoat.  'I didn't tell Mr. Wells last night,' said he, 'but I had to pawn my overcoat to get my brother home.  Now I'm almost frozen without it."  He needed money to get his coat out of pawn.

At a meeting with clergy of other churches it was discovered how widely Stabell had been carrying out his scams.  The ministers had a policeman "come and talk to the boy to frighten him by threats of arrest and imprisonment."

The end to the teen's infamous career began on February 11 when he came to Wells for another $10.  "He got it on promising to return $3 of it, his necessary expenses being but $7," explained The Sun.  "By this time the clergyman had been to the boy's boarding place and discovered that instead of being busy in the morning trying to find work he was lying abed; also that he usually came home about 3 A.M."  Stabell did not return that afternoon with the $3 as promised.

That night Wells went to the boy's room and waited until 2:00 in the morning before giving up and going home.  Stabell showed up at the rectory the next morning and Wells "taxed him with treachery and deceit."  The teen "confessed, and begged for forgiveness with all the dramatic power which he possesses."  He was told to return the next day.

He returned, without the $3, and Wells and Bottomes "had a long talk with him which resulted in a conviction on their part that he was a hopeless case."  While Bottome detained him, Wells swore out a warrant at Jefferson Market Court for the theft of $3.  The Sun reported that at Stabell's arraignment, "He begged for just one more chance before he was sent to prison, but Mr. Wells had been through it all before and he declined to be deceived again."  None of the other clergymen he had duped would answer the plea-filled notes he sent from jail.  One said "He could make one believe that he was a saint in ten minutes, no matter how much appearances might be against him."

A disturbing incident occurred on April 27, 1894.  Policeman Sullivan arrested John Sullivan, described by the New-York Tribune as "a homeless, insane man, fifty years old," after he was caught "pushing his fist through the windows of Grace Church rectory."  By the time the officer arrived, he had broken several of the panes of glass.

In 1899 Rev. Huntington added a notable ornament to the rectory garden--an ancient Roman jar.  In his comments in the Year Book that year he explained that when excavations in Rome were being dug for the Rectory of the Church of St. Paul, "some six of seven terra-cotta jars" dating from Nero's reign were discovered about 30 or 40 feet below the surface.  Two were brought to the surface.

When I was in Rome in 1884, the two jars, covered with ivy, were standing one on either side of the entrance to the church.  I was hard-hearted enough to urge upon Dr. Nevin, the Rector, the propriety of his showing his appreciation of all that Grace Church had done toward the building of St. Paul's by giving us one of his two jars; and he was kind-hearted enough to acquiesce in the suggestion.

When the relic finally arrived in new York a bronze mounting was created for it and it was placed in the garden where it sits today.

At around 10:00 on the night of February 7, 1900 servants discovered a man in a room in the basement.  The Sun reported, "He seemed to be very much startled, but when one of the servants returned with a policeman, he pretended to be intoxicated."  Burglar tools were found on him and he was locked up "as a suspicious person."

The incident was a precursor to a more significant incident one year later.   On the morning of April 30, 1901 a maid entered the dining room to find silverware littered over the dining room carpeting.  "It was evident to her at once," reported The New York Times, "not only that burglars had gotten in, but that they had been frightened off, without having been able to take all that they had prepared for removal."

The thieves had carefully plotted their heist down to the point of apparently watching through a dining room window to see where the maid hid the key to the silver safe.  They had entered through a basement door, as the intruder the previous year had, and stealthily crept upstairs by the light of a candle.  That they had been scared off was evidenced by the candle, a box of matches and the chisel they had used to jimmy the basement door, all of which they left behind in their haste.

Despite their rapid departure, they managed to carry off "knives, spoons, salt cellars, and other small pieces which could be stuffed into pockets or carried away under a waistcoat or coat."  The article noted "The unfortunate feature of the robbery is that Dr. Huntington lost through it a number of heirlooms, which as he explained last evening, had been in the family a long time."

The detectives and patrolmen on duty in the area received a "lecture" from Police Captain Chapman who called it "a shame that men in his precinct should have allowed a burglary to be committed in so prominent a place."

photo by Beyond My Ken

More than a century later James Renwick Jr.'s charming rectory, along with its garden complex behind the cast iron fence, is a Victorian time capsule.  The rectory warrants almost as much attention for its architectural beauty and significance as does the church beside it.

Sadly Abused - the 1893 Power Bros. Building, 248 West 106th Street

 

The building's quaint late Victorian personality has been successfully obliterated by metal panels.

 

Around 1893 a 25-foot wide, two-story store was erected at No. 248 West 106th Street, just east of Broadway.  Most likely designed by the builder, the wooden structure drew on the Italianate style of a generation earlier.  Its cornice sat upon scalloped brackets and simple but prominent lintels graced the upper windows.

The store was run by German immigrant Louis Zimmermann in the late 1890's.  He had been trying to collect $40 from Alpheas J. Goddard for some time in the fall of 1898 when, in desperation, he headed off to the man's flat on West 103rd Street on October 28.

Zimmermann might have thought twice about confronting him had he known that Goddard was currently being sued for assault by a collection agent, Thomas T. Crean.  That man had gone to Goddard's office and, according to The New York Times, "instead of serving the paper, he alleges, he was severely punched by Goddard."

When her husband did not come home that night, Mrs. Zimmerman became anxious.  Unable to speak English, the elderly woman searched frantically for two weeks before going to the Legal Aid Society for help.  Two weeks later investigators discovered that Louis Zimmerman was dead and buried.

The mystery of his death was still unsolved seven months later.  But the facts were coming out.  Mrs. Zimmerman presented the Assistant District Attorney Unger a letter from the General Counsel of the Legal Aid Society that intimated her husband had been murdered.  Investigators had discovered that a 12-year old boy, John Day, had directed Zimmermann to Goddard's building and taken him to the apartment on the third floor.  

According to the boy, Goddard told Zimmermann he would have his money the next week, and Zimmermann replied he had rent to pay.  He remembered Goddard saying, "You get out of here or I'll throw you down the stairs!"

As the argument became increasingly heated, Daly started to leave, telling a reporter from The New York Times, "I started down stairs, as I thought there might be trouble."  And there was.  Just as the boy reached the ground floor, he heard Zimmermann crashing down the stairs.  Daly turned back to find the old man at the second floor landing.  "He was all doubled up, and the blood was running from a big cut in his head," he said.  Louis Zimmermann was dead, his neck broken in the fall.

Zimmerman's body was taken to an empty flat.  Police later instructed that it remain there until the coroner gave permission to remove it.  Instead, Goddard had it rushed to an undertaker and paid for the burial.

A grand jury convened on July 6, 1889.  Among the witnesses was the janitor of Goddard's apartment house.  He testified that Goddard had instructed him to clean up the blood and to burn Zimmermann's hat.  "It was my impression that the hat had been put on Zimmermann's head after he fell.  It looked that way, for it was not dented," he told the jury.  When he balked at burning the hat, "I was ordered to do as I was ordered and keep my mouth shut," he said.

Despite that and other damning evidence, the jury decided Zimmermann had died by falling down stairs "in a manner unknown to the jury."  Mrs. Zimmermann, who had cried throughout the procedure, asked Goddard for the $40.  The New York Times reported, "He finally paid her $10, which he said was all he owed."

At the time of the heart-wrenching hearing Power Bros. had been located on Broadway just south of Central Park for years.  On January 13, 1900 The Record & Guide reported "Power Bros., the well-known plasterers, have removed from No. 1764 Broadway to their new office and shop, No. 248 West 106th st. near Broadway, a location convenient to the West Side building trade.  This firm are long established, and have every facility for doing large work."

The firm, which was composed of Robert and David P. Power (their brother Lorenzo had died five months earlier), advertised itself as "Plain & Ornamental Plasterers."  Title to the 106th Street property was in Robert's name.   Neither of the partners lived in the upper floor apartment, instead leasing it for extra income.

Although Robert Power sold the building in December 1909 to Alma C. Stem, Power Bros. continued to lease the commercial space.  In 1911 Robert Powers advertised his 1909 Oldsmobile 4-cylinder touring car for sale.  The ad promised that it was in good condition and "fully equipped," and said it could be seen at No. 248 West 106th Street.

In 1911 Alma Stem reduced Power Bros.'s square footage by carving a second store out of the ground floor space.  The smaller store became a laundry in 1912, operated by a "Steindler."

The renovations created a smaller store at the east side and the Power Bros. space received a modern arcade storefront.  photo by Charles Von Urban from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York

Power Bros. remained at least through 1914.  By 1916 their former space was occupied by the Broadway Auto Repair & Supply Co., operated by Charles Lurie.  

Motor Cycle Illustrated, January 6, 1916 (copyright expired)

Lurie's shop would remain in the location into the 1920's.

In the meantime, the apartment upstairs was home to a fascinating tenant.  Robert S. Heilferty was born in 1847.  According to the New York Post, "He ran away from his home in Bloomingdale--what's now the W. 105th St. neighborhood--five times before he succeeded in getting into the Union Army, at the age of 17."

Heilferty recalled the time in 1864 when President Abraham Lincoln visited the troops at City Point, Virginia.  The New York Times recounted:

"How do you like the war?" asked the President, slapping him on the back.

"War's all right," young Heilferty replied.  "I just don't like the shooting!"

Heilferty gave his opinions regarding subsequent wars.  As regarded the Spanish-American War he said "I don't know what you'd call that one--But Col. Teddy was pretty good."  He called World War I, "murder."

New York Post, May 30, 1941

The old veteran was still living above the store on February 1, 1939 when he visited Mayor Fiorella LaGuardia's office in City Hall.  The mayor honored him and the other 13 surviving members of the Grand Army of the Republic that day.  Heilferty died on October 16, 1942 at the age of 95.

Joe Pollack stacked produce in baskets and crates on the sidewalk out front around 1941.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In the 1940's the larger ground floor space was home to Joe Pollack's grocery store, while a laundry still operated next door.

By 1979 the grocery store had become home to a deli run by Anastoasios Kassimis.  The former laundry space was now the headquarters of Columbia Tenants Union, founded in the early 1970's to organize tenants of property owned by Columbia University.  One member, Bruce Bailey, held an "open house" here twice a week "for troubled tenants from all over Manhattan," according to his wife, Nellie Hester.  Bailey's work for tenants' rights did not sit well with everyone.  In June 1989, after having been missing for two days, his dismembered body was discovered in the South Bronx.

In the early 2000's the Riverside Copy shop occupied the larger store, and in 2009 the East Dumpling House restaurant opened.  It was replaced by Koko Wings, a Korean restaurant which is still in the building.

Tragically, the charming wooden Victorian structure has been disfigured by metal panels.  What was a quaint relic on the block has become an eyesore.

many thanks to reader Suzanne Wray for prompting this post

The Lost George Kemp house - 720 Fifth Avenue

Appearing as part of the corner mansion, 722 5th Av (where the men are standing in front of the stoop) was erected by Kemp as rental income.  Collins' Both Sides of Fifth Avenue, 1911 (copyright expired)

 

Born in Ireland on March 4, 1826, George Kemp arrived in New York with his family at the age of five.  By 1878 he had made a fortune in Lanman & Kemp, a perfumery nationally-known for its Florida Water and Eau de Cologne.   Florida Water was so popular (today we would call it a "body splash") that baseball teams used it as a refresher during hot games.  He invested heavily in real estate as well, and was the proprietor of the Buckingham Hotel.

George Kemp, The Pharmaceutical Era, December 15, 1893 (copyright expired)

Kemp and his wife, the former Juliet Augusta Tryon had four children, George, Jr., Juliet Augusta, Marion Morgan (known as Marie) and Arthur Tyron.   In 1878 Kemp hired architect R. C. Jones to design a mansion for his family at the northwest corner of Fifth Avenue and 56th Street.  Always the businessman, Kemp included in the project an abutting, smaller residence intended for rental income.

The total cost of construction was $60,000--or about $1.6 million today.  On September 28, 1878, as the houses rose, The Record & Guide called them "of a high order of merit and excellence."  The completed structures successfully pretended at first glance to be a single residence.  Faced in red brick and trimmed in stone they rose five stories above a short English basement.  A mixture of Victorian Gothic and Queen Anne, Jones embellished the façade with angled bays, slightly projecting surfaces, and a storybook-ready turret.  The roofline was a mountainscape of gables and dormers.  A mysterious carved face of a man peered down on Fifth Avenue from the central gable.

The plethora of stained glass visible from the street was the work of Louis C. Tiffany.  He was hired to decorate the major rooms--dining room, library, entrance hall and a drawing room (called the Arabian Salon).   According to Roberta A. Mayer in her 2008 book Lockwood de Forest, Furnishing the Gilded Age with a Passion for India, the commission "may have been Tiffany's first major decorating contract."

The entrance hall - Artistic Houses, 1882 (copyright expired)

The salon was described by Alexander F. Oakley in the April 1882 issue of Harper's New Monthly Magazine as "transplanting an exotic to a Northern clime...an elaborate attempt to assimilate the Moresque idea."  The lower walls were paneled in white holly inlaid with "all manner of native and foreign woods, highly polished, and forming gradations and contrasts of browns, buffs, yellows, reds, and black."  Tiffany was almost assuredly responsible for the design of the furnishings of these rooms as well.

Harper's New Monthly Magazine, April 1882 (copyright expired)

Two views of the Arabian Salon.  (bottom image from Artistic Houses, 1882, copyright expired)

The population of No. 720 Fifth Avenue increased (perhaps unexpectedly) by one on December 17, 1880 when Douglas Kemp was born.  His eldest brother, George, was 19-years old at the time and his youngest sibling, Arthur, was 9.

Living with the Kemps were ten servants.  The mansion was the scene of upscale entertainments during the winter social season.  On January 28, 1883, for instance the New-York Tribune reported there would be "an evening reception at the house of Mrs. George Kemp."  The following season, on October 23, 1883, the newspaper noted that George and Juliet were sharing the opera box of Henry G. Marquand and his wife.

Less than four months later tragedy visited the Fifth Avenue mansion.  On February 7, 1884 little Douglas died at just 3-years old.

As Marion and Juliet came of age, their mother turned her attention to their introductions to society.  On February 10, 1888 the New-York Tribune reported, "Mr. and Mrs. George Kemp, of No. 720 Fifth-ave., gave a dance last evening for the Misses Kemp."

In January 1893 the Kemps announced Juliet's engagement to Stephen Higginson Tyng, Jr.  On June 4, 1893 The World wrote, "It is very probable that the wedding of Miss Juliette Kemp and her finance, Mr. Stephen H. Tyng, jr., will be an event of the late summer at Lenox, the prospective bride's parents, Mr. and Mrs. George Kemp, having just taken a cottage at that place."

The Louis Tiffany designed dining room.  Artistic Houses, 1882, (copyright expired)

Family joy would soon turn to grief.  In September George Kemp fell ill.  The situation became worrisome enough that it caught the attention of the newspapers.  On November 3 The Evening World reported, "The condition of Millionaire George Kemp, who has been seriously ill at his home, 720 Fifth avenue, was reported as more comfortable this morning."

He died in the house on November 23 at the age of 67.  The Pharmaceutical Era reported, oddly enough, "The cause of death was malnutrition, and his family and friends had for some time past seen the approaching end of his struggles for life."  His funeral, held in St. Bartholomew's Church, "was attended by the solid, substantial business men of the city, who desired to testify by their presence their respect and affection for their old associate," said the article.

Juliet and her husband moved into the house with her mother and sister, and with Arthur and his wife.  When the family's period of mourning had passed, they re-entered the schedule of summer and winter social activities.  On November 10, 1895, for instance, The Press announced, "Mrs. George Kemp and Miss Kemp have closed their Bar Harbor cottage and are at their house, No. 720 Fifth avenue."  

Later that winter season Juliet resumed entertaining.  On January 22, 1896 The New York Times reported:

Mrs. Juliette Kemp of 720 Fifth Avenue and her daughter, Miss Marie Kemp, gave a reception and musicale at their home yesterday afternoon, the first since the death of Mrs. Kemp's husband, George Kemp, more than a year ago...The rooms were handsomely decorated with palms and flowers, and the guests had a very enjoyable time listening to Mme. Blauvelt's singing.  Victor Herbert played the 'cello.  Mrs. and Miss Kemp entertained a small party of friends at dinner in the evening."

The following month, on February 2, The Press reported, "Mrs. Stephen H. Tyng, Jr., nee Kemp, of No. 720 Fifth avenue, will give a large musicale on Tuesday evening."

Juliet Kemp gave a benefit reception for the West Side Day Nursery on the afternoon of March 10, 1897.  Among the socialites who attended were the wives of some of the city's wealthiest citizens--J. Pierpont Morgan, Theodore Havemeyer, Louis C. Tiffany, Frederick Vanderbilt, Cornelius Bliss and Robert Hoe among them.

George Kemp's library had Tiffany transoms, a veined marble fireplace, and a glorious Esthetic period ceiling.   Artistic Houses, 1882, (copyright expired)

It would be one of the last entertainments Juliet hosted.  She died less than two months later on May 1 at the age of 60.  Perhaps emotionally unable to continue living in the house erected by their parents, Marion almost immediately moved to Europe, Arthur and his wife went to their Newport mansion, the Tyngs left as well, and George relocated permanently to Paris.

No. 720 sat vacant until the siblings leased it to Edwin Gould and his wife, the former Sarah Shrady.  On October 23, 1898 The New York Press entitled an article "Mrs. Edwin Gould to Have a New Home" and reported the couple "will take possession of their new home on November 1.  They have a taken a long lease of the five-story brick and stone house at No. 720 Fifth avenue."  

The article noted "The location of the Goulds' new home is one of the finest in the city.  Just above are the palatial houses of Cornelius Vanderbilt and Harry Payne Whitney; across the street are new Astor houses and those of Hermann Oelrichs and C. P. Huntington, while a few doors below is the city house of Levi P. Morton.  The Kemp home is adapted for entertaining...Without a wearisome struggle with builders and architects, the Edwin Goulds will live in one of the most perfectly created of all the modern houses in aristocratic Greater New York."

Edwin Gould, from the collection of the Library of Congress

Three months after moving in, Sarah gave birth.  On February 20, 1899 The Evening Telegraph reported, "A boy baby was born to Mr. and Mrs. Edwin Gould at their home, 720 Fifth avenue, on Feb. 6, but the fact did not become known until yesterday."  The second son of the couple, he was named Frank Fisher Gould.  

Little Frank's older brother, Edwin, Jr., was five years old.  Later that year in September he contracted scarlet fever at the family's summer home, Ardsley Towers, at Dobbs Ferry, New York.  The infant was sent back to the Fifth Avenue townhouse for his safety.  On October 12, 1899 The Morning Telegraph, reported that the "heir to millions is seriously ill" and that Sarah "is little Edward's constant nurse."

The boy recovered and things returned to normal in the Gould household.  In November that same year Edwin hired architect R. T. Lyons to make $4,000 (about $127,000 today) in "improvements" within the house, including an elevator.  

It was fashionable for wealthy families to have a French cook and an English butler.  The Gould's butler was Englishman Thomas Ashton, who brought with him impressive references.

When the family sailed for Europe in 1900 Edwin placed much of the jewelry which Sarah she was not taking with her in a safety deposit vault.  Nevertheless, items of significant value were left  in a jewel box in her chiffonier.  While Sarah and Edwin took along necessary servants--his valet and her lady's maid, for instance--the housekeeper, Jane V. Miller, and Ashton remained in the Fifth Avenue mansion.

Jane was perplexed when Ashton "left suddenly in June without waiting for his wages, at the same time leaving behind much of his own clothing," as reported later in The New York Press.  And then, during a boxing match in Coney Island "police discovered a well dressed, clean shaven man offering to dispose of handsome pins, rings, cuff buttons, studs, bracelets and brooches to those at the fight," according to The New York Press on August 10.

The New York Press described Sarah Gould as "one of the handsomest women in New York."  October 23, 1898 (copyright expired).

The 28-year old man, Charles W. Blair, was taken to police headquarters where the jewelry was inspected.  "In going over the jewels the police discovered that one pair of cuff buttons bore the initials 'E. G.'," said the article.  Captain McClusky took some pieces to Tiffany & Co. where the firm identified them as belonging to the Goulds.  A telegram was send to Edwin Gould with a description of the pieces and they were identified by Sarah.

Jane Miller was interviewed.  "When shown a picture of Charles W. Blair she readily identified it as that of Thomas Ashton."  In searching the house detectives found Sarah's jewel box discarded in the cellar.  The Sun reported:

Mr. Gould was quoted as saying that his wife was particularly annoyed by the theft as one of the articles stolen was a brooch in the form of a basket of flowers, with a pendant watch suspended from a little diamond bow.  It was a present to Mrs. Gould from the Countess Castellane.  Other articles which Mrs. Gould remembered having left in the chiffonier were a dagger pin, three inches long, set with pearls and diamonds and one ruby, and a brooch of pearls in the form of a dove.

The total value of the stolen jewelry was placed at between $15,000 and $20,000--upwards of $628,000 today (which makes one wonder what was put in the safety deposit box).  Charles Blair was sentenced to four years in Sing-Sing Prison.

In an interesting side note, in the summer of 1907, police were frantically trying to apprehend a "flat house thief" who had been ransacking upscale apartment buildings.  Finally, on August 12 Frank Jones was arrested.  When he was taken in to the Mulberry Street stationhouse, he was recognized as Charles Blair, aka Thomas Ashton.

At the time the neighborhood around No. 720 Fifth Avenue, once described as "one of the finest in the city," was becoming increasingly commercial.  On October 3, 1908 The Record & Guide reported that Edwin Gould had leased the Wilmerding mansion at 18 East 77th Street.

The Kemp family rented the side-by-side houses to art dealers Duveen Brothers in February 1910.  The New-York Tribune reported "Duveen Brothers plan, it is said, [is] to make extensive alterations to the present structure for their own occupancy."

from the collection of the Library of Congress

Instead, however, the firm hired Horace Trumbauer to replace it.  He worked with Parisian architect Rene Sergeant in designing the store building inspired by the 1774 Hotel de la Marine on the Place de la Concorde.  That building survived until 1952 when it was replaced by Emery Roth & Sons 15-story replacement office building which survives.

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

The James W. Gillies House - 456 West 25th Street

In 1860 a row of handsome Italianate style homes was erected on the south side of West 25th Street, between Ninth and Tenth Avenues.  The 20-foot wide brick-faced residences reflected the latest in domestic taste--with high stone stoops, substantial Italianate cast iron fencing, and paneled and bracketed cornices.

The heavy areaway fencing and stoop railings were the latest in fashion.

No. 456 first became home to James W. Gillies and his family.  As the first Independence Day neared in 1865--just three months after the end of the Civil War--the family festooned with house with patriotic decorations, called "illuminations" at the time.  They most likely included red-white-and-blue bunting and flags hanging from the doorway and windows.  The Gillies's display was elaborate enough to be included in the Metropolitan Police list of "notable illuminations."

A well-to-do builder, he was the principal in James Gillies & Sons, "contractors for cut stone work."  The firm was best known for fashioning stone monuments.  He was, as well, president of the New-York Oil Creek Petroleum Company.  When he erected his new "two-story brick stone cutters' shop" on Twelfth Avenue and 50th Street in 1874 he was listed not only as the owner and builder, but as the architect as well.

Gillies's was married to Kate Munn Lilburn, the daughter of Adam Lilburn who was described as "one of the leading brick manufacturers of Haverstraw, New York."  The two sometimes partnered in real estate dealings, co-owning a "tenement and store" on Ninth Avenue and 21st Street, for instance.

The well-heeled couple were members of the Broadway Tabernacle on Sixth Avenue and 34th Street.  Their affluence was evidenced in Gillies's expensive pastime, racing trotters.  Owning and stabling thoroughbred horses was a hobby of the wealthy and Gillies's animals repeatedly appeared in the newspapers.

On May 12, 1869, for instance, the New York Herald mentioned "Mr. James W. Gillie's [sic] brown Henry Clay horse Dick was trotting very fast on Monday afternoon on McComb's dam road, regardless of dust and danger.  It takes a 2:30 horse to stay with him when at speed, and a better one to be him."   And on September 5, 1874 the newspaper described "Mr. James W. Gillies' spanking pair of bay roadsters, who are speedy and of very attractive appearance."

James Gillies & Sons would continue to be well-known for creating monuments for decades.  But James W. Gillies was personally involved in real estate speculation as well.  In the summer of 1870 he purchased "a splendid tract of land situated four miles from the Hoboken Ferry" in New Jersey, as described by the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide.  The journal said "Nearly as large as our Central Park, it is the largest plot of ground ever purchased so near New York by any one purchaser."  Gillies laid plans to develop it into an elaborate recreation area, with a race track, "hotel, grand stand, stables and outbuildings."  

On the whole the row is little changed.

In 1858 the city's magnificent Crystal Palace, originally erected for New York's World Exposition, burned to the ground.  A second Crystal Palace was proposed in 1872; this one to be "a perpetual World's Fair, Trade Mart, Garden of Plants and popular Art Museum" engulfing a site from 98th to 102nd Streets, from Third to Park Avenues.  When  subscriptions to the massive project were solicited, James W. Gillies gave $1,000--closer to $22,000 in today's money.

On May 5, 1878 (the same year James Gillies was elected a fellow of the National Geographic Society), an advertisement appeared in the New York Herald that read:

Top Floor to let--of three story high stoop house, No. 456 West 25th st., dumb waiter, water closet, four rooms and kitchen, rent $20.

It was not unusual for monied families to rent unused space in their homes.  James and Kate were asking about $530 per month in today's money for the entire floor.  Isabella Donnelly, the widow of Henry Donnelly, moved in with her 23-year old son, Terrence H.  Sadly, Terrence died the following year on October 25.  His funeral was held in the Gillies house three days later.

The tragedy was repeated five years later.  Like Isabella Donnelly, James Bell was widowed.  He moved into the Gillies's house with his daughter, Annie.  The 18-year old girl died on August 8, 1884 and once again a funeral was held in the parlor.

The Gillies sold No. 456 around 1890 and moved to a fine residence at No. 32 West 51st Street.  No. 456 became home to the Schlott family.  Joseph Schlott's wife was the former Helene Hundt.  Their daughter, Emma L. Schlott, was a teacher in the primary department of Grammar School No. 33 on West 28th Street.

In March 1892 Helene was looking for domestic help.  Her advertisement read "Wanted--A Strong Girl for general housework; wages $12."  Although her description sounded somewhat grueling, the weekly pay--equal to about $350 today--was enticing.

Like the Gillies had done, the Schlotts rented spare rooms.  And like the Gillies, they encountered tragedy in doing so.  In 1907 a young couple, Mary and Louis McClure, took rooms.  The lovebirds had eloped from Canada.  Louis got a job as a waiter in a Tenth Avenue restaurant, and in October Mary gave birth to a baby girl, named Rosalind.

It appears that Mary suffered from what today we would recognize as postpartum depression.  A newspaper said that since Rosalind's birth, "the mother has been very ill."  Things worsened for the young family when Louis took a day off work on Friday, January 10 to care for Rosalind.  He lost his job because of it.  "Since then he has made no money and was unable to get treatment for his wife," said the article.

On January 16, 1908 The Buffalo Courier reported that the baby's crying had wakened Louis and he realized Mary was not in the room.  "A light was burning in the bath room and after calling the door, he borrowed a hammer and smashed the lock."  The newspaper began its article saying "Filling a bathtub full of water, Mrs. Mary McClure, the young wife of Louis McClure of No. 456 West 25th Street, lay face downward in the fluid today and was drowned."  

Louis's attempts at resuscitating Mary were unsuccessful.  The Courier said "despite the fact that he has no money, [he] persists in keeping the baby with him."

Joseph Schlott died in his home of a quarter of a century on October 6, 1915.  He was 87-years old.  As had been the case over the decades, his funeral was held in the parlor.

After the house was sold in November 1923 it appears to have become a rooming house.  William Steck lived here in the mid-1936's when he appeared on the Government's list of Communist Party voters.  And David Rodriguez was renting a room in 1944.  On the afternoon of October 10 that year he was in a bar and grill on Ninth Avenue when Henry Golombusky, removed his watch and chain from his vest.  Golombusky was apparently not an adept pickpocket, however, and he was indicted on October 22 on a charge of grand larceny in the second degree.

A renovation completed in 1966 resulted in two duplex apartments.  The property was sold in 2007 for $3.55 million, a price that might have stunned even the wealthy James W. Gillies.

photographs by the author

The 1868 Hugh McCutcheon House - 349 West Fourth Street

 

Matthew Kane was a manufacturer of window sashes.  The explosion of construction in the years following the Civil War increased both his business and his fortune.  He invested in real estate in 1868, completing a row of four upscale Second Empire style homes on West Fourth Street between West Fourth Street and Eighth Avenue.  Designed by the prolific team of brothers David and John Jardine, the homes were faced in warm orange brick and trimmed in brownstone.  Three bays wide, their most eye-catching feature was the fashionable slate-shingled mansard level, each holding two dormers.

Among them was No. 349, which he leased to Hugh McCutcheon who had recently brought his family from Newburgh, New York.  McCutcheon had been born there in 1832 and was married to the former Catherine Hurd.  The couple had four children when they moved in, 14-year old Robert Homer, 10-year old Amahel, Maria, who was five, and one-year old Carrie.  Sharing the house with the family was another Newburgh couple, J. B. Lindsay and his wife, Jennie.

The McCutcheon house is the second from the left.

McCutcheon ran a "fixtures" store at No. 96 Bleecker Street.  Not long after the family settled into their new home Robert was enrolled in the collegiate course of the City University of New York.

Tragedy struck in October 1873 when Jennie Lindsay died at the age of 29.  Her body was taken from the house on the 13th to be sent to Newburgh for burial.  It appears J. B. Lindsay left the West Fourth Street house shortly after, possibly moving back to Newburgh.

The McCutcheon family were long-term tenants, leasing the house at least through 1880.  They then moved west, to Indianapolis, where Hugh McCutcheon died in August 1883.

Matthew Kane died around 1898 and on May 4, 1899 his heirs sold the row of houses to Pincus Lowenfeld and William Prager.  It appears that all of the homes became boarding houses, and while the tenants of No. 349 were middle class, holding white collar jobs, at least one of them was less than respectable.

Clarence Mallory had worked as a collector for the commission merchant firm of S. Fish & Co. before abruptly leaving his job in September 1902.  As a collector, he had received monies owed the firm by clients, sometimes visiting them in person to do so.  On the evening of September 15 he was on an Eighth Avenue streetcar far uptown when, as it approached the intersection of 104th Street, a man began running after it, yelling at the conductor.

The New York Press reported "When he swung aboard he was out of breath, but he immediately seized a young man, and as soon as his breath returned he began to shriek.  'Police! Police!' he cried with all his might."

The young man was Clarence Mallory and his captor was his former boss, David Temmer.  The New York Press said Mallory "seemed astonished and the passengers wondered if the man was crazy."  His continued shouts of "Police!" drew the attention of Patrolman Quinn.  Temmer told him "I want this man arrested.  He was our collector and kept all the money."

Indeed, after Mallory's hasty departure from the firm, it was discovered there was a shortage of $1,800 in cash--more in the neighborhood of $55,200 today.  The breathless Temmer said "I spotted him on that car and hopped on and grabbed him.  I wasn't going to lose such a change, even with the people around."  At the station house Mallory was searched.  He had a silver sugar bowl and half a dozen silver spoons on him, which he claimed he had purchased at an auction.  After that, according to the New York Herald, "Mallory had nothing further to say."

The period just before and after World War I saw several tenants holding Government jobs.  In 1912 Anna E. Pidgeon was hired by the State Civil Service Commission as an "attendant," possibly in a jail or prison.  And in 1915 Joseph P. Boyle landed a superintendent position in the State Civil Service's Bureau of Employment at a salary of $2,000 (about $52,500 today).  In 1919 he was still living in No. 349 and earning the same pay.

In 1930 No. 349 was purchased by Sanford M. Treat.  He continued leasing rooms in the house, prompting the necessary installation of a fire escape.  At the time the molded lintels were intact.  Before long, however, they were shaved off.  Happily the other Victorian details--the understated entrance, the dormers and fish-scale shingles--were preserved.

A renovation completed in 1961 returned it to a single-family home.  The unsightly fire escape was removed, bringing the McCutcheon house back nearly to its 1868 appearance.

photographs by the author