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Showing posts with label Hoppin and Koen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hoppin and Koen. Show all posts

Monday

The 1912 First Precinct Station House


Nathaniel Bush held the enviable position of official architect to the New York Police Department for over three decades. From 1862 to 1895 he produced numerous station houses throughout the city. Not only was Bush an architect, but he was an NYPD sergeant, as well.


Bush retired because, as The New York Times reported on April 24, 1895, “age has unfitted him to perform his duties properly.” Tammany Hall jumped at the chance to give its own favored architects, Horgan & Slattery, the position. Not unexpectedly, building costs began climbing.

With the consolidation of the five boroughs in 1898 the New York Police Department quickly grew. Within the next few years plans were underway for a surge of station house construction. Requests poured in to the City Controller’s office to investigate the fees paid to Horgan & Slattery. In 1901 Controller Grout reported that $193,661.34 had been paid to the firm in that year alone.

The New York Times complained “For many years the Police Department economized many thousands of dollars through Nathaniel D. Bush, a detailed policeman, who was a competent architect, and none of whose plans for station houses resulted in disaster or loss to the city.”

Horgan & Slattery quickly lost their commission.

As the building boom began, Hoppin & Koen were hired to design the magnificent Police Headquarters at 240 Centre Street, completed in 1909 – a domed Baroque palace. Three years later they were commissioned again to design the Fourth Precinct station house at 16 Ericsson Place.

The Fourth Precinct had been housed in an 1871 structure which was no longer adequate. Throughout the late 19th Century the precinct was home to numerous murders, assaults and other crimes. For its new station Hoppin & Koen designed an Italian Renaissance palace with a large stable on the southern end.


The AIA Guide to New York City called it “A limestone Renaissance Revival palazzetto whose public interior in no way reflects the opulence of the exterior – except for the stable on the Varick Street side. The paddocks and other equine accoutrements have a quality that exceeds that provided for the officers.”

The dignified formal precinct house features two two-story arched entrances, a modest bracketed cornice, and the Seal of the City of New York in relief below the stone third floor course.


When the First Precinct station house at 100 Old Slip was closed and subsequently reused as the Police Museum, the First and Fourth Precincts were combined. Although FOURTH PRECINCT is deeply incised into the limestone façade, the station house is now the First Precinct.

The exterior of the building is extraordinarily unchanged since 1912 and police horses still occupy the paddocks of the stables.

Thursday

The 1902 neo-Georgian Donnell House -- No. 335 Riverside Drive



photo by Alice Lum

With the arrival of the 20th century Riverside Drive, with its meandering landscaped park and breathtaking views of the Hudson River, saw rapid, high-end development.  Millionaires sought out the best of New York architects to custom-design grand mansions, many of which were free standing.  And speculators got into the act, constructing expensive rowhouses for Manhattan’s upper class.

In 1901 P. M. Stewart and H. I. Smith began work on three side-by-side houses at Nos. 334 through 336 Riverside Drive.  They chose the architectural firm of Hoppin & Koen to design the mansions.  Unlike many of the speculative rows being constructed, each of the houses here would have its own distinct personality.

Completed in 1902, No. 335 cozied up between two regal limestone-clad palaces.  Unlike their European inspiration, it drew on the English Georgian period.  No less imperious than its neighbors, it contrasted white stone with lush red brick to produce a stately bearing.  A neo-Palladian window at the second story was capped by an eye-catching carved shell.  Here engaged columns and pilasters carried on the Ionic motif of the entrance portico that provided support for the its iron-railed balcony.

Elegant carved festooned panels, stone quoins, and a superb iron balcony railing add to the dignified presence of the mansion.

The house was sold in 1903 and purchased by Mary Donnell, the widow of Robert Washington Donnell, senior member of the law firm of Donnell, Lawson & Simpson.   The childless Mary moved in with her aged parents.  Her father, Colonel Leonidas M. Lawson had actively worked to keep Missouri from seceding from the Union.  He had moved to New York City years earlier; retiring in 1894 from the same law firm where Mary's husband had practiced. Mary and her parents shared the Riverside Drive home with a staff of servants.  Colonel Lawson installed in the house what the New-York Tribune called his “valuable library.”  

Mary had a severe scare on April 28, 1906.  Ill and aging herself, she was in her third floor bedroom when she noticed smoke wafting into the room.  In the laundry room a floor below, a fire had started.  The New York Times reported on the daring efforts of one of her staff to save her.  “Maggie, a sturdy servant girl, carried Mrs. Donnell in her arms down to the first floor.”  Before firemen extinguished the blaze, $600 damage had been done—amounting to about $11,000 today.

Mary died in the house later that year, on December 19.  Her funeral was held in the parlor two days later at 10:30 in the morning.   Mary’s will directed her brother-in-law and executor, William Thornton Lawson, to invest $50,000 until that amount was doubled.  At that point the $100,000 was to be given to the Trustees of the William Jewel College in Missouri.  The income from the fund was to be used to establish and maintain a historical library—known as the Robert and Mary Donnell Library. 

There was at least one surprising request in the will.  Mary directed that $10,000 should be spent on “two portraits, one of the testator and the other of her husband, and when completed to be presented to her sister, Theodosia T. Lawson.”  Assumedly the posthumous paintings would ensure that Mary and Robert Donnell would not be forgotten.

Theodosia inherited the mansion and she and William moved in with her parents.  An attorney, the sports-minded William had been captain of his college football and cricket teams and was a member of the Heiderberg Golf Club. 

The couple was quick to embrace the new motorcar over the carriage; but on October 11 1907 that progressive thinking nearly killed Theodosia.  The couple was motoring through Stamford, Connecticut when they “had a narrow escape from serious injury in an automobile smash here this afternoon,” according to the Vermont Middlebury Register.  A Boston couple, Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Rothwell were also in town driving that day.  “The cars came together in a narrow section of West Main street and were completely wrecked.  Mrs. Lawson was thrown out and bruised slightly.  The others suffered only from shock.”

The following year Colonel Lawson’s health began failing.  He and Mrs. Lawson returned home to St. Joseph, Missouri for a visit, but never returned.  He died there on March 28, 1909.  The Colonel’s wife returned to New York, but before long Theodosia and William Lawson rented space in the Riverside Drive house.

Their boarder was Dr. A. L. Soresi, a surgeon and former professor at Fordham Medical School.  The doctor’s unusual Frankenstein-like experiments at his laboratory and “private hospital” at No. 320 West 70th Street brought him negative attention.

According to the Journal of Zoophily, “Last June [1912] he surprised members of the Homeopathic Society of Kings county by saying that in the course of his experiments he had allowed a dog to bleed to death, and then had connected the arteries of the animal with those of another dog.  The blood was transfused, he said, until there was a return to life.

“He added that he had made a similar experiment with a pneumonia patient.”

In 1913 the New York American reported that Soresi had been arrested and arraigned “for failing to abate a certain nuisance on the premises.”   In his lab the doctor had “conducted experiments upon dogs which, he has declared, enabled him to successfully graft the leg of a dead dog upon a live dog.  This let him to believe similar operations might be performed on human beings.”  But it was not these experiments specifically that got him into trouble with his high-toned neighbors; it was the side effects.

“It was because of vivisection work and incidental ether fumes and offensive odors and noises of dogs used for experiments that Mrs. Helen W. McKay, who resides at No. 318 West Seventieth Street, and other neighbors complained,” explained the New York American.

On January 25, 1914 the New York Herald reported that “Persons living in Seventieth street between West End avenue and the Hudson River are angry because Dr. A. I. Soresi, a surgeon, has rented No. 320 West Seventieth street as a laboratory for research work similar to that done by Dr. Alexis Carrel and scientists in the Rockefeller Institute.

“Several of the women said that they were so terrified at what they had seen and heard that if Dr. Soresi did not get out of the house they would have to abandon their homes.  It was asserted that the moans and whining of dogs have been heard coming from the upper part of the house and that the peace of the neighborhood has been disturbed by the operations.”
photo by Alice Lum

Around the same time it appears that the Lawsons moved out and the family of Lothar W. Faber moved in.  Until 1911 the President of the Eberhard Faber Pencil Company had lived in the massive corner mansion steps away at No. 337 Riverside Drive.  The wealthy family was now considerably, if temporarily, down-sizing.

The wedding of Margaret Louise Faber to Brock Putnam took place in the house at 5:00 on the afternoon of June 11, 1913.  The small affair included only the two families “and a few intimate friends,” according to The New York Times.

The Lawsons held on to the property; and before long the Fabers had the mansion to themselves.  Ebe Faber was in charge of the Dinner Committee of his Princeton Class Reunion in 1919 and he directed all reservations requests to be sent here.   After Lothar’s wife, Anna, died in the house on January 29, 1928, he lived on here for another 15 years.  Lothar Faber died in the mansion at the age of 81 on May 12, 1943.

Following the millionaire’s death, the Lawson estate sold the mansion in September 1944—the first sale of the property since Mary Donnell purchased it 41 years earlier.  The “out-of-town buyer” converted the house to commodious apartments, no more than two per floor.

A 1964 conversion updated the apartments, which now totaled only five.  With only minimal exterior alterations, the dignified neo-Georgian mansion looks much as it did when Mary Donnell’s maid carried her down three flights of stairs in 1906.


Saturday

The R. C. Penfield House -- No. 336 Riverside Drive

photo by Alice Lum


In 1900 while architects Hoppin & Koen were designing three abutting but very different mansions at Nos. 334 through 336 Riverside Drive, Raymond Cassinove Penfield was a busy—and wealthy—man.  Born in Willoughby, Ohio in 1860, he was the son of James Wakefield Penfield, the founder and president of the American Clay Machinery Company.  Upon his graduation from Wesleyan University he went into the family business which manufactured machinery for clay working, built tractors and did general foundry work.  When his father died in the early 1890s, he took over as president.

In 1898 the automobile was making its presence known.  That year Penfield’s brother-in-law, Frank A. Sieberling, founded the Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company and named Raymond Penfield its first president.  The tireless Penfield took on his third simultaneous corporate presidency in 1901 with the Vitrified Conduit Company.

That same year the Riverside Drive houses were completed.  But four years later, developers H. Ives Smith and Perez M. Stewart had still not sold two of them.  Foreclosure proceedings were initiated on Nos. 334 and 336 in March 1905.   No. 336 would be purchased by W. S. Ostrander and in October 1909 it was among a list of “Many Modern Houses Leased” in the New-York Tribune.

The formal limestone house was approached by a low stoop embraced by heafty console brackets.  Their flowing lines were mimicked by smaller scrolled brackets supporting the heavy stone balcony above the doorway, and again below the third floor cornice.  The white limestone mansion stood in stark contrast with its flanking red brick neighbors.

photo by Alice Lum


In 1905 Penfield had stepped down from Goodyear Tire and Rubber, his position filled by Seiberling.  Now (with yet another presidency, that of the American Equipment Company of Chicago) Penfield moved his family to New York City and into the lavish limestone mansion at No. 336 Riverside Drive.

Raymond Penfield had married the daughter of Louis Patterson of St. Louis, Minnie, in 1884.  With them in the house were their three children, James Preston, Harold Cassinove and Julia.  While their indefatigable father continued with his wide-flung business enterprises, their mother involved herself in women’s organizations.  She was a member of the Daughters of Ohio, the West End Women’s Republican Club, the American Criterion Club, the Rubinstein Club and the Theater Club.

Among Minnie’s staff of servants was her maid, young Anna Ebert.  Anna, presumably like most domestics, dreamed of the day when she would marry and escape the drudgery of other people's housework.  Not long after taking the position in the Penfield house, she noticed an advertisement for a fortune teller.

“I can be consulted on love, business, absent friends, and theft.  Bring about speedy marriage with the one you love.  Tell you if his love is true or false.  Bring the separated together.  Reveal your whole life from the cradle to the grave.  Reveal the most hidden secrets and tell you the full names of persons you want to know.  Tell you where to find your fortune.  Show you the picture of your future husband and tell you the year and the day of your birth and the star you were born under.”

Anna was especially interested in seeing “the picture of your future husband.”  The advertisement promised to reveal her fortune for the fee of fifty cents.  On her day off Anna set off to the seer’s house on Third Avenue.  Following a short consultation, she was informed that showing a true likeness of her future husband would be an additional expense--$15, to be exact.  In 1910 $15 on a maid’s salary—amounting to about $250 today—was a considerable sum.  But Anna was hooked.

On April 11 The New York Times reported that Anna “after leaving the place became convinced she had been swindled.”  She went to the Yorkville Court, asking for a summons for the fortune teller who had cheated her out of her $15.  It would be the first of a long series of publicity for the Penfield family—both good and bad—over the next few decades.

While her maid was across town having her fortune read, Minnie Penfield was busy planning her first major entertainment in the new house.  Invitations were being prepared for a nearly day-long celebration of the Penfield’s silver wedding anniversary on May 27, 1910 (which, technically, had passed a year before).  Minnie planned an afternoon reception with music, followed by an evening dinner.  Invitations were sent far beyond New York City.

The New York Times said “Although the members of the bridal party of a quarter century ago are scattered, most of them will come to town for the event.”  They included wealthy friends from Missouri, St. Louis, and Toledo.

While Raymond was active running corporations and inventing—he was granted patents for “brick handling machines”—Minnie busied herself with entertaining.  Shortly after the anniversary dinner, she was hostess for the wedding reception of Margaret Bradbury Rich and Lt. William Hampden Sage, Jr. of the U.S. Army.  The groom was the son of Major William Hampden Sage and the grandson of General Nathaniel McLean.

1912 would be an especially auspicious year for the Penfields.  On June 9 The Times reported that “Arrangements have been completed for the double wedding of Miss Anna Cathryn Bullwinkel and Howard Cassinove Penfield and Miss Julia Penfield and Orin Bastedo.”  The brother and sister were to be married in a joint ceremony in St. Paul’s Methodist Episcopal Church on Wednesday evening, June 19 with a reception in the Penfield mansion afterward.  The extensive wedding party included Irene Sieberling who traveled in from Akron to be maid of honor for Julia.

The New-York Tribune reported that “There were elaborate decorations at the church, consisting of arches of smilax and pink roses and great masses of daises.”  The bridal parties entered the church simultaneously, proceeding down two aisles under the floral arches at the same time and meeting at the chancel.  New York social pages were detailed in their descriptions of the double wedding.

The New York Times reported on the plans of the two couples.  “Mr. and Mrs. Bastedo will motor through the White Mountains and will sail for Europe in September to spend a year abroad.  They will live in this city upon their return.  Mr. and Mrs. Penfield will also take a motor trip, but did not disclose their destination.  They will reside in Bucyrus, Ohio.”
 
That same year the Riverside Drive house was sold—but interestingly enough the Penfields preferred to continue leasing.  It was purchased by Charles B. Barkley “for investment.”  Barkley would purchase the massive mansion next door, at No. 337, in 1914.

1914 was also the year that Penfield’s family business merged with Hatfield, Ltd., of England, under the name of Hatfield-Penfield Steel Company.  The firm now diversified even more, and during World War I manufactured shells and other munitions for the Allied and American armies.  The Penfield fortune continued to grow.

But in the meantime Minnie Penfield had troubles.  In October 1915 Ray Beveridge was visiting New York from Berlin.  The sister of sculptress Kuhne Beveridge, she was connected with the German Red Cross and was here to lecture “in the interests of Germany.”  Beveridge was staying near the Penfield mansion with Mrs. M. E. Cowell at No. 224 Riverside Drive.

Minnie was shopping for a motor car.  On the evening of October 13 car dealer Frank Delmar was driving an electric automobile up Riverside Drive “on his way to demonstrate the machine to Mrs. R. C. Penfield,” as reported in The Times.   Near 97th Street Delmar hit Ray Beveridge and knocked her down.  “Miss Beveridge’s knee was cut and she was bruised,” said the newspaper.  She was carried to Mrs. Crowell’s house where a doctor dressed the cut.

It all seemed like an unfortunate but minor incident--until November 4 when Minnie received the notice that she was being sued for $10,000—a hefty $160,000 in today’s dollars.  Beveridge, who incidentally was an actress by profession, claimed that “the defendant’s automobile, in charge of a chauffeur, knocked her down and injured her about the head, body and limbs.”

While Minnie continued entertaining, holding card parties and receptions, Raymond traveled back and forth to the Midwest.  He still headed the Ohio firm and the American Equipment Company of Chicago and in 1918 he founded the New York Brickhandling Corporation.  His far-flung activities resulted in memberships in the Westchester Country Club, the Chicago South Shore Country Club, the Chicago Athletic Club and the Ohio Society of New York.

Son James and his wife lived in the Riverside Drive mansion with the Penfields.  Despite the Penfield fortune, Minnie neither coddled nor spoiled her grandchildren. .  In December 1929 Howard’s 15-year-old daughter arrived from Chicago for a visit.  Young Marguerite took a jaunt downtown to Macy’s two days before Christmas.  It would all end badly for the teen.

Before she left the store house detectives nabbed her with two bottles of perfume valued at $25.  The girl was arrested for shoplifting and she told police, according to The New York Times, “her grandmother did not give her money for presents and that she ‘just had an impulse.’”  Marguerite explained that she had stolen the perfume as a Christmas present for her aunt.

An embarrassed and, presumably unhappy, Minnie Penfield appeared in court on New Year’s Day 1930.  “The girl’s grandmother, who assumed responsibility for her in future, told Magistrate Renaud that she was taing care of the girl and would put her in a good school, but that she could not provide ‘luxuries’ for her.”

By now the aging Raymond Penfield had finally retired.  In 1928 he stepped down from his several positions; but he would not enjoy retirement for long.  In 1932 the 72-year old fell while getting off a train in Rye, New York and fractured his shoulder.  His condition deteriorated, finally developing into pneumonia and “throat paralysis.”  After an illness of about five weeks, he died in the Riverside Drive house on July 11.

About 75 mourners filed into the house on the afternoon of July 14 for Penfield’s funeral.  A second memorial was held in Willoughby, Ohio, where the body was taken for burial.

On the evening of May 27, 1937, Julia’s daughter was married in the Penfield mansion.  In a bitter-sweet tribute, the wedding took place on what would have been Raymond’s and Minnie’s 52nd anniversary.  It was a warm moment for Minnie in what was a sometimes rocky relationship with her grandchildren.

That rocky relationship continued two years later when the bride’s brother, 19-year-old John Bastedo, pleaded guilty to the “theft of cash, securities and jewelry worth $5,000 from his grandmother.”  Minnie noticed that every time her grandson visited, something went missing.  The tough-loving 67-year old pressed charges against the delinquent.  He had already been arrested once before as a fugitive from a burglary charge in Schoharie, New York.

With Julia and Aaron in court, their son was held without bail in Felony Court on August 28, 1939.

Minnie Patterson Penfield died in the house five years later at the age of 72.  Her death was the end of the line for No. 336 Riverside Drive as a private residence.  In 1945 the Department of Buildings recorded “alterations” and by 1948 the house had been divided into four apartments on the ground floor, three each on floors two through four, and two on the fifth floor.  A awkward-looking penthouse had been added with a single apartment.

The architecturally-unsympathetic penthouse was added following Minnie Penfield's death -- photo by Alice Lum

Other than a gruesome alteration to the entrance and replacement windows, the opulent Penfield house retains most of its original appearance.

The installation of swimming pool-type tiles around the glorious doorway raises the question "What were they thinking?" -- photo by Alice Lum

Monday

240 Centre Street - the 1909 Police Headquarters

photo by Alice Lum
After the consolidation in 1898 of the five boroughs into the New York City we know today, the police department rapidly and necessarily grew. By the turn of the century plans were being laid for a new police headquarters.

In those days of the City Beautiful Movement – the principle that civilized buildings foster civilized behavior – a grand civic edifice was envisioned. Architects Hoppin & Koen, known principally at the time for their building of ornate Beaux Arts mansions, were commissioned for the project.

Photo NYPL Collection
The site for the new headquarters was the unexpected, pie-shaped wedge of land surrounded by Broome Street, Centre Street and Grand Street, sitting squarely in the middle of Little Italy’s tenement district. In 1905 Mayor George McClellan laid the cornership and construction was completed in 1909. Here, surrounded by dingy brick dwellings, Hoppin & Koen created a domed palace sometimes called Beaux Arts, sometimes “Edwardian Baroque.”

Label it what you will, the building is extravagant and grand.

postcard from author's collection
Diana S. Waite, in her book Architects in Albany, says "Hoppin's Beaux Arts training is evident in ornate town houses for such clients as James Lanier but is apparent more dramatically in the New York City Police Headquarters at 240 Centre Street. This monumental, domed structure, constrained on a triangular lot, was designed ‘to impress both the officer and prisoner with the majesty of the law.’”

The interior of the building housed both the functional and the imposing. The marble-clad reception area was palatial. In the basement was a gymnasium and a firing range. On the top floor was an observation deck.

Hoppin & Koen based the beautiful dome loosely on that of the Hotel des Invalides in Paris and stopped the building short of the northern point of the triangle of land in order to provide a small fenced garden, a highly unusual touch for a government building.

photo by Alice Lum
Here was the office of controversial Police Commissioner Theodore A. Bingham. On one hand, Bingham was a reformer with a history of fighting Tammany Hall and the Black Hand – the Italian gang loosely relating to today’s mafia. From here Bingham ran the first “secret service” in the country to infiltrate and convict gang members. On the other hand, the commissioner was a notorious racist – what we would today call a profiler.

The Jewish community was enraged when Bingham told The North American Review “It is not astonishing that with one million Hebrews in the city (one quarter of the population) perhaps one half of the criminals should be of that race; when we consider the ignorance of the language, more particularly among men not physically fit for hard labor, is conducive to crime…They are burglars, firebugs, pickpockets and highway robbers – when they have the courage; but though all crime is in their province pocket-picking is the one to which they take most naturally…”

Mayor McClellan eventually fired the commissioner.

Graceful caryatids hold the names of each borough -- photo by Alice Lum
It was here on June 9, 1970 that the radical Weathermen group planted 10 sticks of dynamite. Jane Alpert and William Ayers admitted responsibility, claiming the bombing was in response to “police repression.”

Three years later the New York City Police moved to its new headquarters at One Police Plaza, leaving 240 Centre Street abandoned for years while a new use was debated. For a while it seemed that the majestic old headquarters would become a luxury hotel. The design firm S.I.T.E. partnered with architects and Canadian-based developers for this goal; however because of the awkward geographical placement of the building, funding was elusive.

photo by Alice Lum

After sitting empty for over a decade, the building was converted into cooperative apartments by developers Arthur D. Emil, John J. Ferchill and Edward R. Downe Jr. Having purchased the building from the City in 1983 for $4.2 million, the group commenced a $20 million renovation. The firm of Ehrenkrantz Group & Eckstut adapted the space for 55 apartments. The original stately lobby was preserved however most of the interior was gutted and reworked.

With high ceilings and floor plans unique to each apartment in the former headquarters attracts residents like Calvin Klein, Stefi Graff and Leonardo DiCaprio. You too could live here. The four-bedroom apartment in the old gymnasium was reduced in price in May 2010 to $16.75 million.

Living room of the apartment in the former gymnasium -- photo Corcoran Realty

240 Centre Street is an exceptional example of early 20th Century monumental architecture in a most unexpected location.

Friday

The Moncure Robinson Mansion -- No. 16 East 76th Street



With the completion of Central Park the blocks off Fifth Avenue saw rapid development.  In 1881 William Noble began construction on 10 speculative rowhouses stretching from No. 10 through 28 East 76th Street.  Completed a year later they were designed by John G. Prague and were described by The New York Times as “four-story brownstone-front” dwellings.

When M. L. Sire purchased No. 16 with “the similar dwelling 28 East Seventy-sixth Street" in 1897, the three wealthy Robinson siblings were living in their family mansion at No. 23 North Washington Square.  Their father, Edmund Randolph Robinson had died the year before and their mother had died earlier.  The young adults were wealthy, prominent, and on their own. 

After the expected period of mourning, they Robinsons resumed their upscale social lives.  Eleanor hosted a reception for the introduction of her sister, Augusta, into society on December 10, 1898 in the home.  And their attorney brother, Moncure Robinson, would be well-known in the highest social circles.

The Robinson children had not only large personal fortunes, but an outstanding pedigree.  Their mother was the daughter of John Jay and was related to the Chapmans and McVickars.  The Times would later note “The Robinson family is one of the old families of Virginia.”

Their social standing was glaringly obvious on April 4, 1900 when Augusta was married in the parlor of the Washington Square house, given away by her brother.  Among those assembled were Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish, Mr. and Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt, Jr., the Schieffelin family, the Abraham Hewitts, Mrs. William Morgan and her daughter, the W. Bayard Cuttings and other high-ranking society figures.

A month later Moncure would earn attention at the “artists’ revel” in Boston when he “personated a Doge of Venice.”  Later he and Eleanor took a cottage in fashionable Bar Harbor. 

By the time they returned for the winter season, things had drastically changed in the East 76th Street neighborhood.  The neighborhood had increasingly lured Manhattan’s wealthiest citizens and the addresses of the brownstone residences of a generation earlier were suddenly highly valued.  On September 29, 1901 The New York Timesremarked that “The good demand for dwellings of moderate value has continued to be the mainstay of the market…This demand has been principally for houses near Fifth Avenue, north of Fiftieth Street.”  Among the houses sold that week was No. 16 East 76th Street.

The rapidly increasing value of the property was noted by the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide on March 15, 1902.  The house was purchased by the City Real Property Investing Co.  “The house changed hands twice last year; the first time at $60,000, the present sellers paying $67,000.”

Within a few weeks it would be sold again—this time to Moncure Robinson.  The purchase was made public on May 3 and was possibly sparked by Augusta’s impending engagement to Commander Louis Wentworth Packington Chetwynd of the Royal Navy.  As preparations for the wedding in Fifth Avenue’s St. Thomas’s Church were laid out; Moncure set architects Hoppin & Koen to work remodeling the old brownstone uptown into a fashionable, modern mansion.

Augusta’s January 17, 1903 wedding was a star-studded event in terms of society names.  The church was filled with names like Fish, Vanderbilt, Belmont, Harrison, Beekman and Townsend.  But The New York Times was careful to print at the top of the list “Mrs. Astor.”

The following week Moncure was a guest of Mr. and Mrs. Robert J. Collier in the mansion on Gramercy Park.  It was in honor of Mrs. Collier’s grandmother, Caroline Schermerhorn Astor and his inclusion on the guest list of only 16 was a social coup.  But Robinson was eager to begin entertaining on his own in his new house.

The East 76th Street project was finished by now.  Hoppin & Koen had produced a striking five-story neo-Georgian home of red brick with limestone trim.  The entrance in the rusticated stone base was a few steps below the sidewalk; and the architects drew on a variety of 18thcentury elements to produce the refined and elegant home—fanlights above the second story French doors; radiating stone lintels over the upper openings, and finely detailed dormers behind a stone balustrade.

On February 23, 1903 Moncure Robinson formally opened his new house with a “Colonial dinner.”  It would be the first of many elaborate entertainments in the house.  A week later, on March 1, The New York Timessociety page gossiped about the young attorney.  Calling him “a member of several of the fashionable clubs,” the newspaper said “He is simply a young man who has a good fortune and who is fond of entertaining.  He has, like so many of the young bachelors of to-day, moved into a house of his own, and he is an excellent host.  In appearance he is quite youthful, and is about thirty years of age.  He is a member of the Knickerbocker, and was graduated from Harvard in 1896.”


The Times called Robinson’s new home “a bijou of a house, which is charmingly furnished, where he will entertain a great deal next Winter.”  The newspaper may have predicted extensive entertainment because it was about time for the wealthy 30-year old to marry.  On May 10 the newspaper hinted at romance.

“Moncure Robinson, who will sail shortly for Europe, has put the finishing touches to his new home in East Seventy-sixth Street.  He has taken such pains in furnishing this house that rumors are again started as to his matrimonial intentions.  Both he and Mrs. Moses Taylor Campbell have denied these reports several times.”  The denials were undeniably true.

By now Robinson had given up Bar Harbor for Tuxedo Park and Newport.  It was in Newport on September 2, 1906 that he was the unwilling party in an episode that enraged Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish.  Mamie Fish invited Moncure along for an automobile ride with her and her daughter, Marion.  As the car cruised along the country road about four miles outside of Newport, chauffeur George Effyeara was pulled over for exceeding the speed limit of 18 miles per hour.

Effyeara insisted he was traveling at 14 miles per hour; but the constable climbed into the limousine and ordered it driven back to Newport.  After a heated exchanged between Mrs. Fish and Judge Franklin, the socialite begrudgingly paid the $23.60 fine.  “Mrs. Fish paid it,” reported The Times, “but she was not in a very pleasant mood, remarking as she paid the money, ‘This is highway robbery.’”

Another well-to-do bachelor who often appeared on the same guest lists with Moncure Robinson was Francis Otis.  Although both men had ample fortunes, The New York Times noted in 1908 that the two would be sharing an apartment in Paris for the summer season.

Back in New York, Moncure’s lavish entertainments were sometimes too large for his 76th Street house to handle.  On these occasions he turned to the St. Regis Hotel.  On December 13, 1911 he hosted a dinner here in honor of Princess di San Faustino and Comtesse De Gontaut-Biron.  “The guests, numbering sixty, were asked for dinner at 8 o’clock, following which specialties and tableaux vivants were given on a miniature stage erected at one end of the marble ballroom,” recounted The Times.  An evening of entertainments included performances by some of the socially-elite guests.

The newspapers routinely reported on Moncure’s entertainments at home and at the St. Regis.  On February 3, 1914 his dinner required the entire second floor of the hotel, “including the marble ballroom,” said The Times the following day.

The following year, in August 1915, Robinson leased the 76th Street house "to a client for occupancy," according to The New York Times.  It became home to Edward N. Breitung and his socially prominent wife.  Breitung was a banker, mining engineer and ship owner.  During the war she had donated an x-ray ambulance to General Pershing and their daughter, Juliet, had been active in war work as well.

Delicate carved panels are set into the brick facade.
In July 1918 Mrs. Breitung arranged “a big athletic carnival” for the Sailors and Marines Club which she founded.  The details of the event were finalized in a meeting in the 76th Street house on July 12 and they included 50-men teams for tug-of-war, running events, tennis, baseball, swmming races and other events.  Professional athletes signed up to appear.

But the Breitungs tended to attract negative attention despite their philanthropic deeds and good intentions.  Juliet eloped with Max F. Kleist, the gardener of the mansion adjoining the Breitung’s country estate in Marquette, Michigan.  “Owing to the prominence of the Breitung family, the marriage and its subsequent developments attracted considerable attention,” said The New York Times later.

The “subsequent developments” were that Juliet soon realized the Kleist had married here only for the money and after she left him, he sued her father for $250,000 “for alienation of affections.”  The suit was eventually dismissed and in December 1918 Juliet became engaged again.  The Times ran the headline “Juliet Breitung to Marry Again” and rehashed the ugly affair, including the Reno divorce.

A year later the household was terrified by a series of letters that arrived threatening to blow up Breitung’s office at No. 11 Pine Street.  Then, on September 6, a letter arrived “containing a threat to blow up his home at 16 East Seventy-sixth street.”  Investigators were able to track down the extortionist, John N. Redmond.  The 38-year old was committed to the psychopathic ward of Bellevue Hospital for observation.  He explained that he believed to have been “defrauded of millions” by the banker.

Mrs. Breitung continued on with her social calendar of dinners and charitable events.  On March 25, 1921 she entertained her guests at dinner in the house, then took them to the opera.  A similar affair two weeks earlier had ended most uncomfortably for the socialite.  Society had been rocked by a series of burglaries during supper and card parties.  In each case it was the expensive belongings of guests that were stolen.

On March 25, 1921 The New York Times reported that Mrs. Charles M. MacNeill, “after attending the opera about two weeks ago…drove in her car to the home of Mrs. Breitung, where there was a supper party.  The next day she missed her [opera] glasses, which were worth $3,000, and telephoned to Mrs. Breitung.  Search was made, but the glasses could not be found, and Mrs. Breitung believed that Mrs. MacNeill had lost them before or after leaving the party.”

But the awkward theft of a guest’s valuable opera glasses was nothing compared to the embarrassing press the Breitung’s got later that year.  On September 7, 1921 the New-York Tribune reported that Edward had been arrested in a raid on a brothel.

Mrs. Nellie Kift, of No. 640 Madison Avenue, was charged “with having let two rooms to women for questionable purposes” and Breitung was arrested for vagrancy.  As the trial neared, Breitung proclaimed his innocence and told reporters “My wife knows all about this case and has absolute confidence in me.  She and my family are sticking by me.”

Testimony by detectives was lurid.  The New-York Tribune reported that Detectives Raihl and Massie said they found “the banker in one of the rooms of her apartment with Edna Clark and Jean Whitney.”  Edward Breitung had an excuse to be at the brothel, however.  He said he “had called at the apartment to discuss a mining project.”

In 1923 Moncure Robinson sold the house.  It was owned by Maurice Goodman on September 29, 1927 when John Packwood Tilden died in his house near by.  Tilden was President of John P. Tilden, Inc., a liability insurance firm, and a proud member of the Society of Mayfower Descendents.  He  had lived with his wife, Mabel Simmons Tilden, at No. 58 East 73rd Street.

Mabel quickly sold the 73rd Street house and purchased the mansion at No. 16 East 76th Street in July 1928.  Like the previous residents of the house, she would lavishly entertain.  Summers were spent at the Briarcliff Lodge and winters were given over to musicales, dinners and receptions.  Society pages routinely reported on her entertainments, as was the case on February 12, 1937 when The Times reported “Mrs. John Packwood Tilden will give another in a series of luncheons today at her home, 16 East Seventy-sixth Street, for Mrs. Robert A. C. Smith.”

The following month, just before Mabel left for the Briarwood, she received a most unexpected delivery.  “A healthy seven-pound baby girl only six hours old was found abandoned at 10 o’clock last night wrapped in a brown blanket and sheltered in an opened black suitcase on the doorstep of the townhouse of Mrs. John P. Tilden,” reported The New York Times on March 28.  The little girl was discovered by a private patrolman, Horace Victor, and was in good health despite her exposure to the March air.

If the infant’s mother thought that, perhaps, Mrs. Tilden would take the baby in, she was mistaken.  “Later she was taken to the New York Foundling Hospital.”

Mabel Simmons Tilden’s routine of Summers at Briarcliff Lodge and winters on East 76th Street would continue into the 1950s.  The house became home to Calvin Klein in 1988.  Having paid $6.8 million for it; the fashion designer sold the 10,000 square foot mansion to the Italian Government for just $4.8 million in1991 during a depressed real estate market.  The house was purchased as the home to the Italian Consul General.

The handsome residence has survived as a private home for over 130 years.  Little has changed since its remarkable makeover in 1903 when the it became the renovated bachelor pad of the socially-visible Moncure Robinson.

photographs by the author