Showing posts with label upper west side. Show all posts
Showing posts with label upper west side. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 14, 2026

Ralph S. Townsend's 1887 200 West 102nd Street

 

photo by Anthony Bellov

Born in 1854, Ralph Samuel Townsend listed his profession as an architect by his late 20s.  His designs for houses and apartment buildings in the 1880s and '90s routinely reflected the highly-popular and often whimsical Queen Anne style.  In 1886, Townsend received a substantial commission from Charles G. Tomlinson to design a flat-and-store building on the southwest corner of Tenth Avenue and 102nd Street.  (The avenue would be renamed Amsterdam Avenue in 1890.)

Completed at a cost of $28,000 (about $963,000 in 2026), the building was faced in red brick and trimmed in stone and terra cotta.  Townsend centered the residential entrance on the 102nd Street elevation.  His neo-Grec design included stone bandcourses that connected the sills and lintels of the windows.  At the top floor, however, Townsend expressed his penchant for Queen Anne.  On the avenue side, a sunflower rondel sat within the faux gable that fronted the parapet and terminated in fanciful volutes.  Large square panels of sunbursts decorated the chimney backs on 102nd Street.  Smaller terra cotta tiles dotted the top floor facade.

Gracefully scalloped lintels, and tiles of sunflowers and sunbursts were typical of the Queen Anne style.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

Charles G. Tomlinson was not only the building's developer and owner, he and his family were original residents.  He and his wife, Harriet A., had at least five children:  Charles H., Florence J., Arthur R., Herbert and Hattie May.  

Herbert Tomlinson was 12 years old when his family moved into the newly completed building.  The following year, he wrote to The Evening World regarding the newspaper's contest.  His command of language and composition reflected his youthful education:

Being interested in your instructive paper, I thought I would take part in the word-building contest.  As we have no lessons to study in the month of June, I made up my mind to try for the prize.  Inclosed you will find the result of my efforts, which I hope will gain for me the prize.

(The spelling of "enclosed" with an "e" did not come along until the 20th century in America.)

The Tomlinson apartment was the scene of Florence's wedding to George T. Johnson on the afternoon of February 25, 1892.  The Sun remarked, "Miss Tomlinson's gown was of dove-colored silk, with opal trimmings, and she wore diamonds and pearls."

The building can be seen across the partially developed block between 103rd and 102nd Street.  In the foreground is the Boulevard Hotel, by then owned by Julia D. Downs, daughter of the original proprietor, Hiram B. Downs. (original source unknown)

The family suffered a horrific tragedy two years later.  On July 5, 1894, the New York Herald reported, "Hattie Tomlinson, six years old, of No. 200 West 102d street, was discharging fire crackers about half-past three o'clock yesterday afternoon when her dress took fire."  The New York Times added that her "arms and lower part of her body [were] severely burned" and that she "was taken home."

Hattie's injuries were, indeed, severe.  The following day, the New York Herald reported her death.  Her funeral was held in the apartment on July 7.

Terra cotta plaques on the brick brackets compliment the wonderful sunflower-filled rondel.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

In the meantime, the other residents of 200 West 102nd Street were professional.  Among the early tenants was John R. Onderdonk, Jr.  An 1889 graduate of the Stevens Institute of Technology, he was granted a patent in 1890 for "a freight-car coupler of very simple construction."

Also living here at the time were George F. Bender and his wife, the former Ada M. Crawford.  Born in 1881 in Hicksville, Long Island, his first job was a fireman on the Long Island Railroad.  He changed course, working in various undertaking establishments before opening his own business in 1890.  He was, as well, the sexton of  the nearby West End Presbyterian Church at 105th Street and Amsterdam Avenue.

On October 21, 1895, The New York Evening Post reported that 20-year-old C. H. Tomlinson "was arrested yesterday for riding too rapidly on a bicycle around the circle at One Hundred and Sixth Street in Central Park."  He was fined $3 (about $115 today).

The young man appears to have been attending pharmacy school at the time.   As early as spring 1896, the C. H. Tomlinson drugstore occupied the storefront here.  An advertisement in The World on July 11, 1896 sought, "Drug Clerk, junior, must be strictly honest and sober; references.  Tomlinson, 856 Amsterdam."  Three years later, on October 14, 1899, C. H. Tomlinson advertised, "Porter--Wanted, young man as porter for drug store, 856 Amsterdam Ave., 102d st."

It appears that the young druggist was married around that time.  His ad in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle on January 23, 1900 sought, "Wanted--Flat--Small family want 5 or 6 room flat in Brooklyn."

David and Sarah Olive Cogswell Mitchell lived in the building at the time.  Married in 1867, the couple had seven children.  David Mitchell was born in Dumbarton, Scotland in 1846, and was brought to America at the age of three-and-a-half.  He graduated from Brown University and attended the University of Bonn.  Back home, he opened a law office with his brother, Peter.  David Mitchell would become Chief Assistant District Attorney in 1897.

The C. H Tomlinson drugstore was supplanted by a Larimer A. Cushman bakery as early as 1904.  It was one of five bakeries operated throughout the city by the firm.

Cascading fish scales decorate the elongated brackets that flank the entrance.  photograph by Anthony Bellov

The Alfred Nickel family occupied an apartment here in 1908 when their daughters, Vera and Bertha, underwent tonsillectomies at the Manhattan Eye, Ear, and Throat Hospital on March 17.  The operations went horribly wrong.

The New York Times titled an article, "Girl's Death Remarkable," and reported, "The death of Bertha Nickel, four years old...is said by the physicians of the institution to be one of the most unusual in its history."  The surgeon, Dr. Frank Van Fleet, insisted, "It is one case in ten thousand.  Immediately after the tonsils had been cut there was a gush of blood and every effort to stop it was unsuccessful.  The little girl died in a few minutes."  Van Fleet noted, "The little girl went to the hospital with her older sister Vera, who went through a similar operation successfully."  The Evening World contradicted that report, saying on March 23, that Vera "was in a very critical condition in the hospital."

Former City Councilman Stewart M. Brice suffered a nervous breakdown in the summer of 1900.  On September 12, The Evening World reported that his wife said she would not commit him to an insane asylum, "notwithstanding the physicians had declared his mental breakdown incurable."  Brice's brother, W. Kilpatrick Brice, was a lawyer.  Mrs. Brice said that the two of them would manage her husband's financial affairs.  "He has no idea of the value of money, or the obligations connected with it," she said.  "Meanwhile, he will remain with me and my son, and I will take care of him."

Wilburt Weingarth and his bride, the former Florence Stewart, moved into the building shortly after their wedding on January 7, 1928.  On Friday night, March 29, 1929, police officers knocked on their door and arrested the 29-year-old Weingarth.  Another Mrs. Weingarth, this one with the first name of Mabel, accused him of bigamy.  She told the court on March 30 that she and Wilburt were married on April 18, 1922 "and he disappeared some time later."

The parapet detailing was intact in as late as 1940 when Moran's Restaurant occupied the store space.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The building underwent significant alterations in 1947 and it was possibly at this time that the chimney tops and peaks of the gables were shorn off.

A colorful tenant beginning in the early 1960s was artist Louis Abolafia.  In 1964, the 23-year-old smuggled one of his paintings into the Metropolitan Museum of Art and hung it on a wall.  The New York Times reported, "It was taken down almost immediately."  Abolafia told a reporter, "The Met told me my work is too modern for them."

On December 15, 1965, Abolafia began a hunger strike.  Five days into his protest, The New York Times explained that he, "believes that he is being discriminated against by museums because he is not internationally famous."  The abstract-expressionist painter told The Times reporter, "They keep telling me 'You don't have a name.'"  He called his hunger strike "a symbol of my attitude; I must call attention to it," adding, "speaking out does more for the cause of young artists than remaining silent."

Louis Abolafia was still living in 200 West 102nd Street in 1968 when he ran for President on the Love ticket.  Then, days after the election, on November 15, he and three young women were arrested at Chase Manhattan Plaza, "after one of the women had partially disrobed," explained The New York Times.

The female had dropped her fur coat to reveal her bare breasts.  The article said that police "suspected the other women were also about to go topless, which in Mr. Abolafia's lexicon is called a 'bust out.'"  The three women were charged with public lewdness and Abolafia with "prompting the exposure of a female."


Today there are nine apartments in the building.  Most of the red brick facade has been painted brick red, and the stone and terra cotta painted the color of bread mold.  But most of Ralph S. Townsend's 1887 design survives.

many thanks to historian Anthony Bellov for suggesting this post
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Tuesday, April 7, 2026

Schwartz & Gross's 1926 215 West 78th Street

 


When Leopold M. and Lina R. Whitehead moved into the high-stooped brownstone at 215 West 78th Street, their home was the height of domestic fashion.  It was one of ten high-stooped brownstones designed by Thom & Wilson in 1890.  By the post-World War I years, however, the vogue for apartment living had supplanted that of private homes.  In 1926, the Brevoort Estates, Inc. demolished four of the vintage homes--211 through 217 West 78th Street, and hired the architectural firm of Schwartz & Gross to design a nine-story apartment building on the site.  

Construction cost $300,000, or about $5.5 million in 2026 terms.  The architects designed the building in a 1920s take on Renaissance Revival.  A classic broken pediment with a cartouche and shield sat above the centered entrance within the rusticated limestone base.  The upper eight floors were clad with red brick and trimmed in stone and terra cotta.  Schwartz & Gross arranged them into two matching side-by-side sections--both flanked with full-height rounded bays.  Every other spandrel of the bays were ornamented with elaborate Renaissance-style decorations.  The architects forewent a cornice in favor of a brick parapet.

Canvas awnings at every window shielded heat and damaging sunlight.  The building replaced brownstones like those seen on either side.  via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Potential renters could choose apartments of either four or five rooms.  An advertisement in The New York Times on November 14, 1926 was headlined "New Building" and touted, "Baths, glass enclosed showers, beautiful bay windows."  It noted there was a "special doctor's or dentist apartment with A-C and D-C current" available.

Among the early residents was bachelor William McCabe, also known as "Tough Willie."  He was described by The New York Evening Post as a "Broadway sport."  McCabe owned a stable of race horses and financed prize fighters.  Most importantly, however, he was a close associate of gangster Arnold Rothstein.  

On November 1, 1928, Willie McCabe and Arnold Rothstein joined other underworld figures in a "high spade" poker game.  Three days later, the game was still going on and Rothstein had lost $320,000.  Claiming the game was fixed, Rothstein refused to pay and was gunned down.  Willie McCabe suddenly disappeared.

The New York Evening Post reported on November 14, "McCabe has not been at his home, 215 West Seventy-eighth Street, since the shooting."  The article said, "McCabe, now sought by [District Attorney Jaob H.] Banton, is in Savannah, Ga., promoting dog races."

But then, The New York Times reported that McCabe had "dropped out of sight...only to bob up a week or so later with what District Attorney Banton said was an iron-clad alibi."

Willie McCabe continued to skirt law enforcement, but his gangland career ended on August 26, 1931.  The New York Times reported, "The underworld went about its robberies, its stabbings and its threats yesterday."  The article said that while McCabe had managed for years to be "unmolested by the police, [he] got into trouble with his own kind."  McCabe was fatally stabbed "in an early morning brawl in the 61 Club at 61 East Fifty-second Street."   

Details inspired by the Italian Renaissance decorate the facade.

Willie McCabe was assuredly well-acquainted with another resident, Herman Handler and his wife, Thelma.  Born in 1895, Handler was, like McCabe, a bookie.  In April 1935, while he was in Hamburg, Germany, he met Margie Lee, a "member of a group of acrobatic dancers," as described by The New York Times, while her troupe was touring.  Herman and the blonde dancer began an affair, although Margie would later insist she never knew he was married.

In July, Thelma found a photograph of Margie and the couple separated.  Thelma "insisted, however, that she and her husband remained friendly and kept in touch with each other by telephone," said The New York Times.  Herman moved into the Hotel Belvedere on West 48th Street.  Like Willie McCabe, he would run afoul of "his own kind."

Two months after leaving 215 West 78th Street, on September 12, 1935, The New York Times reported, "Herman Handler, 40 years old, a bookmaker...was found shot dead at 7 o'clock yesterday morning in his roadster."  Detectives said that evidence showed that Handler was shot in his car and "driven to the place as he was dying."

The family of David and Etta Simon, lived here in the early 1940s.  Born in 1902, he was an insurance broker.  The couple had two sons, Lewis and Robert, born in 1928 and 1932 respectively.  On December 8, 1941, the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, America declared war on Japan.  It would make a significant impact on the Simons. 

On March 18, 1942, The New York Sun said that "everything was peaceful in the household of David Simon, 43...until a reporter arrived with the information that Simon's serial number was drawn fourth in the draft."  The article said that Robert and Lewis "started jumping about the living room, shouting, 'Daddy's in the army, Daddy's going to war.'"

Simon told the reporter he was ready to fight.  "I'd like to be with MacArthur."  And Etta was equally enthusiastic.  "They ought to take all the men," she said, adding, "I can go to work.  I was a stenographer before I was married and I could go back to that."

Another family in the building directly affected by the war was that of Eugene and Florence B. Moses.  The couple was married in 1914, and had two children, Eleanor, born in 1916, and Charles G., born in 1919.  Like David Simon, Charles was inducted into the army.  On September 2, 1943, the War Department issued the latest list of missing and wounded in action.  Among those injured in the "North African Area including Sicily" was Charles G. Moses.  (Happily, Charles returned to America safely, and on February 28, 1947, The New York Times reported that he and his wife, the former Peggy Levi, had welcomed a daughter.)

In 1957, singer Johnny Mathis released his second single to sell one million copies, "Chances Are," and later that year his "Wild is the Wind" was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Original Song.  Riding high on his success, the following year he purchased 215 West 78th Street.  It was, perhaps, his first real estate investment.  He later would tell a British reporter, "I've bought apartments in New York, and a post office in the Midwest."  Mathis owned 215 West 78th Street until April 1963.

Among the tenants at the time was Lucy Seckel Stark, the widow of surgeon and gynecologist Meyer M. Stark, and former wife of poet and novelist James Oppenheim.  Lucy graduated from Hunter College and Teachers College.  She began teaching English in 1925 and did not retire until 1955.

Freelance photojournalist Solomon Charles Tobach and his wife, Dr. Ethel Tobach, were residents by the 1960s.  The couple was married in 1947.

Ethel was born on November 7, 1921 in the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic and was brought to America as an infant.  She received her Ph.D. in comparative psychology from New York University in 1957.  By the time she and Solomon moved into 215 West 78th Street, she was affiliated with the American Museum of Natural History.  She co-founded the Animal Behavior Society in 1964 and in 1972 became vice president of the New York Academy of Sciences.

Solomon Tobach "specialized in taking pictures of news personalities," according to The New York Times.  He worked for The Associated Press, the Agence France Press, United Press International and The Medical Tribune.  Solomon suffered a fatal heart attack in their apartment at the age of 51 on February 19, 1969.  Ethel would survive to the age of 93, dying on August 14, 2015.


The building became a co-op in the 1970s.  It is essentially unchanged, sans the canvas awnings, since its opening in 1926.

photographs by the author
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Tuesday, March 31, 2026

The 1889 Wickliffe - 226 West 78th Street

 

image via apartments.com

In 1899, builder W. G. Horgan acquired the two rowhouses at 226 and 228 West 78th Street.  He hired architect George F. Pelham to design a six-story apartment building on the site.  Pelham had learned his trade in the architectural office of his father, George Brown Pelham.  He opened his own office in 1890 and would focus on apartment buildings, hotels and commercial structures, drawing from a variety of historic styles.

For the six-story Wickliffe apartments, completed the following year, Pelham drew on Renaissance prototypes while giving it a decidedly 19th century flair.  He created three vertical parts by rounding and projecting the two-bay-wide end sections.  Verticality was softened by intermediate cornices at the second, third and sixth floors, and by decorating the turret-like bays with intricately carved bands at the fourth and fifth.  Classical Renaissance-style pediments crowned the center windows at the third and fourth floors.  The building wore an ornate bracketed cornice crowned with alternating stylized anthemions and fleurs-de-lis.  

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

An advertisement in The New York Times touted, "Elegant light, large 8-room apartments, all improvements, near Subway and all cars.  Rents $1,200 to $1,350."  The monthly rents would translate to $3,500 to $4,000 in 2026.

The tenants were, expectedly, professional.  Among the initial residents were Dr. James J. Phillips, a graduate of North Carolina University; and Prince and Princess Auersperg.  The Austrian Prince had recently relocated to New York City.  His wife was what newspapers called at the time, "a penny princess."

Earlier, The New York Times reported, "Miss Florence E. Hazard...created a sensation by her marriage on June 14, 1899, to Prince Francis Joseph von Auersperg," and the Morning Call said that when the engagement was announced, "much surprise was manifested on account of her youth.  She was then but sixteen years old."  Florence's father, Edward C. Hazard, was described by The New York Times as "the wealthy wholesale grocer."  

Florence Ellsworth Hazard was young, beautiful and wealthy when she met the prince.  from the collection of the Library of Congress

Prince Francis Joseph von Auersperg was 30 years old when he married Florence.  (original source unknown)

Prince Auersperg desperately needed a wealthy wife.  His title "dates back to Charlemagne," said the Paterson, New Jersey newspaper The Morning Call.  But, said the article, "Adventures in Vienna and in other European cities took much of the prince's money."  The New York Evening News was more direct saying, "the Prince came to America in 1896 having exhausted his patrimony and run half a million dollars in debt."  He entered the Long Island College Hospital to study medicine and it was shortly after that he met his future wife.

At the time of their marriage, the groom's older brother sent Florence "several rings, and a valuable diamond necklace," said The Morning Call, and her "father settled a fortune upon her."  But the titled newlyweds would not be living in the prince's homeland.  The newspaper explained, "in spite of her immense dowry, the princess would not be received by the Austrian nobility."  And so, they secured an apartment in the Wickliffe and, like Dr. Phillips, the prince opened a medical office.

The road for the titled couple was rocky nearly from the start.  On April 18, 1900, The New York Times reported that Princess Auersperg, "was robbed of jewels to the value of nearly $10,000 yesterday by an unknown man."  Those jewels included the wedding gifts from Florence's brother-in-law.  A workman was in the apartment because "all the electric bells in the house were out of order."  When Florence was called to the telephone, the workman grabbed her "heart-shaped silver box on the bureau" and left.

Less than a month later, on May 9, 1901, The New York Times reported that Prince Francis Auersperg had declared bankruptcy.  The article explained that his problems arose "out of a real estate transaction which took place in Austria, in which the Prince obtained possession and ownership of an old ancestral estate belonging to [Count Ernest and Countess Gabrielle Coreth] and never paid them for it."  The couple sued him for $40,000 (about $1.5 million today).  The New York Times said, "His visible assets he enumerated as twelve pairs of silk stockings."  Luckily, Edward Hazard had wisely put his wedding present into Florence's sole control.

Then, on March 30, 1903, The World titled an article, "Doctor Of Royal Birth Is Sued."  Prince Auersperg had borrowed $1,000 from Theodore Marburg in 1901 and failed to repay it.

The couple's relationship finally faltered following the death of Florence's father in 1905.  He left her a large inheritance and her husband insisted that she transfer it into his name.  Well aware of his financial history, Florence refused.  It resulted in her leaving him and moving into her mother's home in  Seabright, New Jersey.  She obtained a divorce in 1915 and married businessman John J. Murphy on May 1 that year.

In the meantime, The Wickliffe attracted several artistic residents.  Living here in 1903 was photographer Julius Ludovici.  He catered to well-heeled patrons and produced informal portraits with hand-colored tints.  He had a "photographic and crayon studio" on Fifth Avenue and, during the summer social season, a studio in Newport.

This charming portrait of a child--so unlike the stiff, posed images of most photographers--was typical of Ludovici's work.  from the Getty Museum Collection.

Also living here at the time were H. R. Humphries and Henry A. Ferguson.  Humphries advertised in the New-York Tribune on November 24, 1907 that he, "teaches singing, from rudiments of voice placing to artistic finishing for concerts, oratorio and church work, at his studio, No. 226 West 78th street."

Landscape artist Henry Augustus Ferguson, who lived here with his wife, Eleanor, and daughter, was born in Glen Falls, New York around 1842.  (The New York Times said, "his exact age was not known, as he never confided it even to his most intimate associates.)  He started painting in his teens and, according to The Times, "first gained recognition following a world tour in which he painted many pictures in Mexico, Italy, and Egypt."

This portrait of Henry August Ferguson may have been posed in his Wickliffe apartment.  via Seraphin Gallery.

In January 1911, he gave a private exhibition of American landscapes at the Century Association.  Two months later, on March 20, he became ill.  Pneumonia developed and he died in his apartment two days later.

A prominent resident at the time was author, artist and explorer Frederick Samuel Dellenbaugh.  Born in McConnelsville, Ohio on September 13, 1853, he began exploring as a youth and was part of the expedition that found the Escalante River, the last unknown river in the United States, and discovered the Henry Mountains.

Frederick Samuel Dellenbaugh, Touring Topics, November 1929 

In 1904 Dellenbaugh co-founded the Explorers Club.  While living here, in 1909 he was appointed librarian of the American Geographical Society.  Among his books are Breaking the Wilderness, published in 1905; the 1908 In the Amazon Jungle; and Fremont and '49, first published in 1913.

Dellenbaugh joined another expedition in 1923.  On November 11, The New York Times poetically reported, "The roaring, rapid-strewn reaches of the Colorado River, plunging down to the Gulf of California between the towering cliffs of the Grand Canyon, once more have been conquered."  Dellenbaugh was a member of the Geological Survey expedition headed by Colonel C. H. Birdseye.

Another writer living here by 1914 was journalist and author John Walker Harrington.  Born on July 8, 1868 in Plattsburgh, Missouri, he was on the staff of the New York Herald.  Among his works was the 1900 children's book The Jumping Kangaroo and the Apple Butter Cat. 

Illustrator Paul Goold returned to 226 West 78th Street and to his wife, the former Edith Chapman, after serving on the front in World War I.  He served as a captain with the First National Army and was celebrated with his comrades on October 16, 1918 as the members of the "Lost Battalion" of the Battle of Argonne.  Born in 1875, Goold began his career as an illustrator on the Portland [Maine] Sunday Press and Sunday Times after high school.  In 1899 he joined the art staff of The New York Times, leaving four years later to work as a magazine illustrator.  

Now back home, he opened a studio in Carnegie Hall.  He and Edith were still living in The Wickliffe on December 7, 1925 when he "jumped or fell from his studio on the twelfth floor of Carnegie Hall through a skylight into a hallway four floors below," as reported by The New York Times.  The article said, "The crash of the body plunging through the skylight aroused artists and musicians in near-by studios."  Goold had left a letter for Edith in the studio.  He was taken to Roosevelt Hospital with a fractured skull and died a few hours later.  Goold's private funeral was held in the apartment on December 10.

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The press coverage of residents became less positive in the Depression years.  On November 28, 1931, for instance, Stephen A. Tillinghast and Joseph D. Kogan, presumably roommates, were arrested with 15 others as "a group of alleged racketeers who are said to have smuggled aliens into the United States," according to The New York Times.

Five years later, on May 14, 1936, 26-year-old dancer Margaret Rand was arrested for operating a "questionable 'studio'," as described by The New York Times.  Rand hired young women to provide "private dancing instructions."  Police highly suspected that dancing was not the only activity being practiced there.

In 1961, the once-proud apartment building was converted to a single-room-occupancy hotel.  Expectedly, not all of the residents were upstanding.  At 5:30 on the morning of October 5, 1968, two patrolmen saw smoke billowing out of an apartment window.  They rushed in and broke down the door of Antonio Cartagena who was semiconscious on the burning bed.  They extinguished the fire themselves, then discovered "three pistols, .22- and .25-caliber automatics and a .33-caliber revolver, on a night table next to the bed," reported The New York Times.  Cartagena was treated for smoke inhalation and then taken into custody.

image via apartments.com

A renovation completed in 1973 returned 226 West 78th Street to apartments, seven per floor.  Although nothing survives of George F. Pelham's 1899 interiors, the exterior survives remarkable intact.
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Monday, March 30, 2026

The Lost Manhattan Congregational Church -- 2168 Broadway


A vintage postcard shows the church on an otherwise vacant Broadway block.  The parish house is seen on West 76th street.  (copyright expired)

The feverish development of the Upper West Side in the last quarter of the 19th century necessitated schools, police stations, churches and other supporting infrastructure.  A meeting in Leslie Hall on 83rd Street and Broadway in June 1896 resulted in the formation of the Manhattan Congregational Church, headed by Reverend Dr. Henry A. Stimson.  (Stimson had been pastor of the Broadway Tabernacle since 1893.)  The congregation grew as rapidly as the district's population and in January 1900 it purchased an L-shaped lot on Broadway and West 76th Street.  (The 20-foot-wide corner lot was not included in the sale).

The Broadway portion of the vacant plot was 80 feet wide.  The church purchased the parcel for $80,000 (just over $3 million in 2026).  The Treasury noted in its April 1902 issue, "This property has proved to be very valuable.  It is in the centre of a dense population and on a main artery."

Brothers Arthur A. and Charles W. Stoughton formed the architectural firm of Stoughton & Stoughton.  When the church purchased the Broadway plot, the Stoughtons had just put the finishing touches on their design for the Soldiers & Sailors Monument in Riverside Park.  They now were given the commission for the church building. 

Stoughton & Stoughton's plans, filed on May 4, 1900, called for a 76-foot-wide "stone church" at a cost of $70,000.  It would bring the total cost, including land, to $5.7 million today.  The architects called the style "Louis XII Gothic."  The New York Times architectural columnist Christopher Gray would deem it a century later, "a broad, lacy Parisian-style house of worship."  

Stoughton & Stoughton released this water colored rendering.  American Architect & Building News, August 8, 1903 (copyright expired)

On June 24, 1900, the New-York Tribune addressed the oddly shaped plot:

The problem has been to erect an adequate, modern church building on inside lots.  The church owns four lots, with a small L in the rear opening in Seventy-sixth-st.  Members say that the building will be a return to the original idea of a house of God, as being something more than merely a place for formal public worship.

The article predicted, "The main front will be a somewhat elaborate facade."  The New York Times, on November 10, remarked, "Many architectural novelties are to be introduced in the Manhattan Congregational Church, about to be erected at Broadway and Seventy-sixth Street," adding, "The material will be of red brick, and the face, with its deeply recessed windows, will be richly ornamented in stone and terra cotta."

The main entrance "will open directly upon the social rooms of the church, which will open freely into one another, and together will constitute a large and hospitable foyer for the church property, which will be in the rear," said the New-York Tribune.  On the second floor were a hall, meeting rooms for Sunday school and similar uses, and a library.  The New-York Tribune predicted they would be "a rallying place for the neighborhood for all sorts of meetings."

The church auditorium would be 72-by-72 feet and could accommodate as many as 900 worshipers.  Decades before air conditioning, the article said the church would have "ample provision for air from from large wells in the four corners and from the west front through the secular hall as well as through its own roof."  The parish house on 76th Street would hold a choir room, a "sunny kindergarten," and committee rooms.  

The cornerstone was laid on April 19, 1901 with "appropriate ceremonies," according to The New York Times.  In reporting on the event, the newspaper said, "The Manhattan Church promises to be one of the most notable buildings of the upper west side, as it differs radically from the usual church edifice, particular in interior arrangements."  The article was referring to the church proper in the rear.

The single Broadway entrance sat within a projecting pavilion decorated with Gothic crockets.  Three double-height stained-glass windows sat below a parapet, which was interrupted by an acute gable holding a small rose window.  The building's hipped roof was pierced by two diminutive dormers and frosted with lacy iron cresting and pinnacles.  From its center rose a stone, Gothic fleche that sprouted gargoyles.  It prompted comment from The New York Times.  "A bronze spire towering above the structure to a height nearly equal to that of the roof line from the street will make the church a notable feature of that part of the city."  (The fleche was, in fact, not merely decorative, but part of the ventilation system and provided a release of hot air in the summer months.)

As the dedication neared, the New-York Tribune published a photo of the church and Rev. Henry Stimson on January 6, 1902 (copyright expired)

With construction completed, on January 6, 1902, the New-York Tribune reported that "the building had cost $139,000, of which $132,000 had already been subscribed."  Rev. Stimson was asking the congregation to make up the difference before the next Sunday "so that the church might be dedicated...free from debt."

Born in New York City in 1844, Reverend Dr. Henry A. Stimson had a fascinating background.  The New York Sun said, "in his early career [he] was a frontiersman and Indian fighter with Col. William F. Cody.  He carried the Christian religion into the Indian camps."  Stimson served in the Civil War and "after the close of hostilities" in the West, resumed his missionary work with Native American tribes.

Rev. Stimson was outspoken in his views, not only from the pulpit but in his letters to the editors of local newspapers.  On November 5, 1906, for instance, he wrote to The New York Times to rail against concerts, like those of the Philharmonic on Sunday nights.  He said in part, "'Sunday Concert' has long been the Mother Hubbard garment which is made to cover all kinds of naked uncleanness."

And he used the Titanic tragedy to attempt to derail women's demands for equal rights.  He wrote in a letter to the editor of The New York Times on April 22, 1912, "If some of the women who are seeking to lead public opinion had a little broader view they would talk very differently about 'the women first.'"  He said if women had equal rights and were not given first access to life boats, "What a cry of shame and horror would have gone up everywhere!"  

P. L. Sperr shot this photograph on December 21, 1927.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

World War I changed attitudes and traditions throughout the world.  On January 19, 1917, The New York Sun reported that Stimson had resigned after 21 years in the pulpit of the Manhattan Congregational Church.  The article said, "Dr. Stimson said the ending of the war would bring new and vital problems to the churches of America and that the churches must have men of strength and health to lead them in that critical time."

Stimson was replaced by the Rev. William T. McElveen, who came from Evanston, Illinois.  His would be a short pastorship.  On September 29, 1919, the New-York Tribune reported that he had resigned.  Disgruntled with the metropolitan lifestyle of New Yorkers, he complained, "New York is the most difficult field for a church in all America, I believe.  Members are here today and gone tomorrow...What will be done with Manhattan Church?  I am almost too discouraged with New York to care."

The electric lighting fixtures were as novel as was the building's exterior architecture.  catalog of Lyon & Healy, edition II. (copyright expired)

Taking McElveen's place was Reverend Edward H. Emmett, whose forward thinking views were in stark contrast to those of his predecessor.  On November 29, 1919, for instance, the New-York Tribune reported, "An unusual union service will take place at Manhattan Congregational Church...at 11 a.m., when the congregation of that church and of the New Synagogue will join in worship."

And in response to the ebb and flow of membership that had so troubled Rev. McElveen, Emmett took a very modern approach.  On October 6, 1921, The Evening World reported, "It pays to advertise even the church, figures from the Manhattan Congregational at Broadway and 76th Street show."  During a four-month period of public advertisement, said the article, the church "got 10,000 lines of publicity and received 189 new regular attendants."  The newspaper said, "Advertising sells religion, is the verdict of the Manhattan Congregational Church."

from the collection of the New York Public Library

Rev. Emmett's modern thinking soon turned to real estate.  So-called "skyscraper churches" were appearing throughout American's largest cities.  Vintage church buildings were being demolished to be replaced by hotels or apartment buildings which retained space for the church.  The congregations therefore reaped rental income from the residential and commercial spaces.  

In 1927, Emmett announced that the Manhattan Congregational Church would be replaced by a hotel and church structure.  Demolition of Stoughton & Stoughton's unique and masterful building began in May 1928.  It was replaced by the 24-story Manhattan Towers Hotel designed by Tillion & Tillion.

The replacement building follows the original L-shape plot.  photograph by the author

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Tuesday, March 24, 2026

The 1926 John Muir - 27 West 86th Street

 

image via landmarkwest.org

Developer and builder John Muir assembled a syndicate, The 31 West 86th Street Corporation, in 1925 to replace five handsome rowhouses at 27 through 35 West 86th Street, just west of Central Park, with an apartment building.  The group hired the architectural firm of Sugarman & Berger to design the the 15-story structure.  Completed in 1926, it was faced in variegated brick above a stone base.  Designed in the neo-Renaissance style, Sugarman & Berger peppered the facade with romantic terra cotta and cast stone details. 

The double-height frames around the grouped openings of the second and third floors included engaged terra cotta columns and spandrel panels with rondels containing bas relief busts or shields.  Shells and pinnacles capped each grouping.  The motif was copied at the sixth and thirteenth floors, where they were fronted with stone balconies.  An elaborately decorated cast stone parapet crowned the design.

John Muir christened the building after himself: The John Muir.  Although he had no connection with the naturalist and explorer of the same name (and who had died 14 years earlier), Sugarman & Berger might have given a nod to the much more famous John Muir by adding a very subtle, very non-Italian Renaissance detail--a Western cow's skull on either side of the entrance.

Above the ornate neo-Renaissance details of the entrance pilasters, is a surprising Western skull.  image via landmarkwest.org

An advertisement in The New York Times in November 1926 offered apartments of five through seven rooms, with two or three baths.  It boasted high ceilings and large rooms.  Although the ad described The John Muir as a "housekeeping apartment building," meaning the apartments had kitchens (including "electrical refrigerators" and "kitchen cabinets"), it noted, "Restaurant service available."  It was a vestige of residential hotels, in which tenants ate in restaurant-like dining rooms.

In September 1926, while construction was nearing completion, Dr. Leon L. Feldberg leased an apartment.  He was, perhaps, the first of an inordinate number of doctors and dentists in the building. 

Margaret (known as Rita) Hoff and Henry McAleenan were married in the Church of the Blessed Sacrament on Broadway and 71st Street on January 12, 1927.  The New York Times noted that following their "wedding trip in Europe," they would live at 27 West 86th Street.  The following year, on May 1, 1928, The New York Sun reported that the couple had welcomed a son.

Attorney Charles Culp Burlingham and his wife, the former Mary Farrell, were original residents.  Their country home was in Blackpoint, Connecticut.  Born in Plainfield, New Jersey in 1858, Burlingham was admitted to the bar in 1881 and became a partner in Burlingham, Veeder, Masten & Feary.  An expert in admiralty law, among his prominent clients were the White Star Line, the Holland America Line and Nippon Yusen.

Fourteen years before moving into The John Muir, Burlingham represented the White Star Line before the United States Supreme Court following the sinking of the RMS Titanic in 1912.  He was, perhaps, better known as a civic and legal reformer.  (In 1953, the New York City Bar Association deemed him the "first citizen of New York.")  A close adviser to Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia, Burlingham become president of the New York City Bar Association in 1929.

Charles Culp Burlingham in 1932.  from the collection of the Library of Congress.

Mary Farrell Burlingham died on May 20, 1928.  It is unclear when Charles moved to 860 Park Avenue, but he would survive Mary by decades.  On August 30, 1956, The New York Times said that at the age of 98, he was "one of the country's oldest practicing lawyers."  Asked how others could live to be 98, Burlingham replied, "Just never stop breathing."  Charles Culp Burlingham died at the age of 100 on June 7, 1959.

Among the several physicians in the building in the 1920s and early 1930s were Dr. Rubin L. Kahn; Herbert L. Celler, former president of the Mt. Sinai Hospital Alumni Association; Damas B. Becker and his wife, the former Beulah Mosher; Dr. John J. White; and dentists Ethel R. Meyerson and Henry G. Rieger.

When The John Muir opened, Dr. John J. White was involved in a lawsuit.  On March 15, 1926, he was riding in a Pennsylvania Railroad dining car and ordered the boneless chicken pie.  The pie turned out to be anything but boneless and when White bit into a bone, he lost a front tooth.  The New York Times reported that the cook insisted he could not understand "how come a bone should be in the pie."  Dr. White's long-lasting suit was finally settled on April 27, 1929.  The Weekly Underwriter and Insurance Press reported that he was awarded $650 (just under $12,000 in 2026).

image via landmarkwest.org

Elizabeth Russell, who was 20 years old and an artist's model, moved into The John Muir following her divorce from Richard C. Lyman in December 1926.  She took back her maiden name, but would not have it for long.  Elizabeth attended a New Year's Day party on January 1, 1928.  There she met 34-year-old playwright Patrick Kearney, who had recently adapted Theodore Dreiser's An American Tragedy for the stage.  He, too, was recently divorced.  He divorced his first wife in 1924 and his second in 1926.  Just over two weeks after they met, on January 17, The New York Times reported that the pair were married that afternoon.

(Patrick and Elizabeth would have two daughters together.  Their marriage would end tragically, however, on March 28, 1933 when the 39-year-old playwright committed suicide.)

Along with Charles Burlingham, at least two other attorneys, David M. Fink of Fink & Frank, and Louis L. Kahn of Wilberg, Norman & Kahn, were early residents.  Kahn and his wife had one daughter.  Born in Hungary in 1880, he graduated from the New York University Law School and was admitted to the bar in 1903.

In August 1930, Kahn was named by the Tammany executive committee as the "Democratic candidate for the vacancy on the City Court bench," as reported by The New York Times.   Three months later, on November 14, the newspaper announced that Governor Franklin D. Roosevelt had appointed him as a judge of the City Court of New York.

The names of residents of The John Muir routinely appeared in the society columns.  On May 26, 1933, for instance, The New York Evening Post reported, "Dr. Eugene A. Dupin of 27 West Eighty-eighth Street, will give a dinner party at the Park Lane tonight for about fifty guests."

At least one resident at the time, however, appeared in newsprint for less favorable reasons.  Physiotherapist Albert C. Thierer occupied his apartment alone after his wife, Lee, left him.  In July 1932, he was ordered to pay her $12 per week to support her and their child.  According to Thierer, his Depression era patients were "lagging" in their payments and his finances were stretched.  On February 1, 1933, he faced his wife and a judge regarding the $125 he owed her.

When Magistrate Anthony Hockstra demanded that he immediately pay the amount in full, a frustrated Thierer exploded.  He told the magistrate, "I'll have to get a pistol permit from you and go out and steal!"  The Daily Star said the outburst "startled" the courtroom.  Hockstra adjourned the case for a week, saying that if Thierer did not come up with the $125, he would "go to jail for six months."

Perhaps because of his financial problems, Thierer branched out from physiotherapy to plastic surgery.  And it appeared to be working.  A year later, The New York Times reported that he "numbered many prominent actresses among his patients."  Unfortunately, Thierer had skipped an important step in opening his practice.

He was arrested on October 8, 1934 for "practicing medicine without a license."  The 42-year-old pleaded not guilty in court on December 20.  Apparently Thierer weathered the storm and on October 21, 1936, the "Shopping With Susan" column of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported on "beauty authority" Grace Donohue's skin rejuvenation therapy.  The article said, "Grace Donohue offers a free analysis of your skin by Albert C. Thierer, B.S."

Among the residents in the second half of the century were attorney David Vorhaus and his wife, Dr. Pauline G. Vorhaus.  A graduate of Harvard College and Harvard Law School, David was in charge of gasoline rationing in the New York City area during World War II.  Pauline was a psychologist and author.  Their two children took similar professional paths.  Dr. Louis J. Vorhaus was a physician, and Dr. Jane M. Vorhaus Gang was a psychiatrist.

A fascinating resident was Moe Gale, who lived here with his wife, the former Gertrude Arnstein.  Born on the Lower East Side to a luggage salesman, in 1926 Moe partnered with Jay Faggen to open the Savoy Ballroom in Harlem.  The New York Times would say that he "advanced the musical careers of such personalities as Count Basie, Cab Calloway, Ella Fitzgerald, Sister Rosetta Tharpe and the bands of Erskine Hawkins, Benny Carter, Coleman Hawkins, Tiny Bradshaw and Lucky Millinder."  It was Moe Gale who discovered the Four Ink Spots.

The Savoy Ballroom was famous nationwide.  The Times recalled, "Nearly every name band in the late nineteen-twenties, thirties and forties played there, including those of Rudy Vallee, Isham Jones, Duke Ellington, Chick Webb, Benny Goodman and Glenn Miller."  The Savoy Ballroom closed in 1958.  Six years later, on September 2, 1964, Moe Gale died while living here.

Among the Gales' neighbors in the building were Dr. Ludwig V. Chiavacci and his wife, Dr. Sidonia T. Furst-Chiavacci.  The two most likely met at the University of Vienna.  Ludwig received his medical degree there in 1925 and Sidonia the following year.

A research expert on multiple sclerosis, Ludwig was on the research staffs of the neurological Institute in Manhattan and the New Jersey Diagnostic Center in Metuchen.  A dermatologist, Sidonia Furst-Chiavacci was on the staffs of the University and Montefiore Hospitals.  She also served as a physician and dermatologist to the Austrian Consulate.  Ludwig V. Chiavacci died in August 1970 and Sidonia in September 1973.

image via landmarkwest.org

Externally, there are almost no changes to Sugarman & Berger's dignified, 1926 facade.

many thanks to reader (and former resident) Robyn Roth-Moise for suggesting this post
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