The 1902 Knox Hat Buildling - 452 Fifth Avenue

Edwardian strollers before the New York Library with Knox Hat Building in the background -- postcard from author's collection

When Edward Knox returned to New York City, a Civil War hero, his father’s business was in trouble. Not only had the Knox Hat Company’s store on Fulton Street burned to the ground in 1865, but a trademark law suit had put the firm in serious financial difficulties.

Edward took over for his father with “the intention of making his name known wherever a hat was sold,” according to his obituary decades later in The New York Times.

Knox succeeded in his intention.

The second half of the 19th Century was a good time for quality hat sellers. No man would leave his home without a hat, whether a bricklayer or a financial mogul. There were specific hats for specific occasions and a gentleman’s closet would hold a silk top hat, a beaver business hat, a straw boater for casual recreation and other hats for other purposes. An entire set of etiquette regulated when to wear a particular hat, when to remove it, tipping it to greet a lady, and so forth. It was a time, as the AIA Guide to New York City said “when men were valued by their hats, or used them as a badge of social station and power.”

Rather than continue to rely on the quality of other manufacturers, Knox opened his own factory in Brooklyn. In the meantime he had opened a store in the fashionable Fifth Avenue Hotel, in addition to the one in the Singer Building on Broadway.

By the turn of the century, Knox was the premier name in hats in New York City and United States presidents came to him for their headwear. Before B. Altman, Tiffany or Lord & Taylor would make their incursions onto Fifth Avenue, Edward Knox broke ground. On the corner of 40th Street and 5th Avenue stood the brownstone mansion of Colonel Lawrence Kip who had died in 1899. Here Knox would build his new store and headquarters, opposite the site where the palatial New York Public Library would soon rise.

Through his military standing, Knox was familiar with the work of architect John H. Duncan.  Dunan, in addition to his many residential projects, had designed the Soldiers and Sailors Memorial Arch in Brooklyn’s Grand Army Plaza and General Grant National Monument (which would become better-known as Grant’s Tomb).

photo NYPL Collection

Built between 1901 and 1902, the ten-story structure exploded Beaux Arts ornamentation on a huge scale. The two-story mansard roof with one- and two-story dormers is crested by intricate copper torch-and-anthemion decoration and dominated the limestone and brick building. An ornate balcony wrapped around the seventh floor. Because of the prominent corner site, Duncan’s magnificent structure was conspicuous for blocks down Fifth Avenue.

The Knox Hat Store occupied the first and mezzanine levels; the upper floors housing the offices of the Knox Hat Manufacturing Company and the E. M. Knox Hat Retail Company and other businesses. Not only had Colonel Knox (he had been elected colonel of the 69th Regiment in 1892) created a spectacular building on Fifth Avenue, he had simultaneously created immense prestige for his company and product.

Edward Knox died at the age of 75 in 1916. His New York Times obituary mentioned only in passing that he “was known as a leader in the hat industry for many years, and took charge of his company more than forty years ago, and brought it through its financial difficulties, making it one of the greatest in the world.” The article spoke, however, at great length of his extensive and distinguished military career for which the Colonel was best remembered by his contemporaries.

Knox’s will generously reflected his appreciation of his employees, giving sums of $1000 to $20,000 to employees like Catherine Maher, a store cashier; the largest sums to two particularly “old and faithful” employees.

Very few changes to the building were made throughout most of the 20th Century until, in 1964, the Republic National Bank purchased it. Kahn & Jacobs were commissioned to convert the Beaux Art beauty into banking and office space. With sympathetic care, the firm replaced the street floor windows with large panes of plate glass, removed the mezzanine level and slightly altered the 40th Street side.

In 2006 HSBC took over Republic Bank and carefully melded it with a modern glass tower to the side and rear. In the renovation modern plate glass sheets replaced the more appropriate paned windows; however overall the landmark was treated with loving respect.

 

Photo Nicholson & Galloway, Inc.

Façade Maintenance Design Architects oversaw a complete exterior face and roof restoration. This included completely replacing the 140-foot long, 8-foot high cooper cresting. The four enormous copper cartouches were removed and restored.

photo Nicolson & Galloway

The entire slate roof -- all 2,500 square feet of it -- was removed and replaced with Vermont Black slate and the entire façade was carefully cleaned.

In April of 2010 the building sold for $350 million.  That year the new owner, Israel Discount Bank, commissioned STUDIOS to create a new entrance to the tower.  STUDIOS principal David Must called the former lobby "cramped, dark and stepped awkwardly down toward street level."

The recreated entrance shows the full 30-foot height using what Must calls "a simplified palette of materials."

Today, a component of a larger, ultra modern whole, the Knox Building remains what The New York Landmarks Preservation Commission called “one of the finest Beaux-Arts style commercial buildings in New York City.” Looking south down Fifth Avenue, it is today, as it was in 1902, a remarkable and conspicuous presence for blocks.

The 1911 Lissberger Mansion -- No. 16 East 71st Street

 

photo by Alice Lum

On January 9, 1910 The New York Times wrote “The finest residential block in Manhattan is now in process of development from Fifth to Madison Avenue, between Seventieth and Seventy-First Streets.  This is the Lenox Library block, which in less than three years has undergone a complete transformation.”  The newspaper reported on the coming demolition of James Lenox’s magnificent library building and said that if Lenox were alive at the time “he would see the great open field in the rear that has been a familiar sight for many years to every passenger traveling on the Madison Avenue cars being filled up with a number of the most elegant types of private dwellings to be found in this country.”

Among the "elegant private dwellings" were two speculative mansions commissioned by developer Cornelius W. Lyster, Jr. at Nos. 16 and 18 East 71^st Street.  Lyster had purchased the plots the year prior to the Times article and hired architect John H. Duncan to design the residences.  Each six stories tall they were completed in 1911; the architectural equivalent of fraternal twins.

Duncan designed subtle differences in the two residences -- photo by Alice Lum

Duncan individualized the houses with slightly differing elements – No. 16 sported elegant carved garlands dripping off the second story window frames, No. 18 had more reserved arched tympanums.  The balcony of No. 16 featured a cast iron railing; the balustrade of No. 18 was limestone.  But inside, the mansions were similar.  Each had an electric elevator, nearly 30 rooms and seven baths.

No. 18 was quickly snatched up by wealthy glove merchant Julius Kayser, but No. 16 was not so quick to move.   Finally on May 18, 1915 The Times reported that Luyster had leased the house “to a tenant for occupancy” for four years.  The tenant was Benjamin Lissberger, chairman of the board of B. Lissberger & Co., a smelting and refining firm.

Although covered in grime, the stone is intricately and elegantly carved -- photo by Alice Lum

Lissberger had formed the company around 1898 with his brother, Max.   By now he was a recognized authority on the subject of smelting and refining.   Benjamin moved into the house with his wife, Juliet, and their two daughters.  Interestingly, two years later it was Max who purchased the house from Cornelius Luyster.

Max Lissberger, a bachelor, served as president of the firm and it would seem that the extended family lived together at No. 16.  In 1924 B. Lissberger & Co was succeeded by the Federated Metals Corporation, a division of the American Smelting and Refining Company.  Max became a Director and Treasurer while Benjamin took the position as Chairman of the Board.   

Max was apparently the more socially reserved of the two—he was a member of the National Republic Club, while Benjamin held memberships in the Bankers, Manhattan, Criterion, Wall Street Luncheon, Whist and Republican Clubs, the United Hunts Association and the Inwood Country Club.  Another brother, William, was also a partner in the firm.  One suspects there was bitterness among the brothers because at one point he changed his name from William Lissberger to Walter Lester.

By the early 1930s Max had moved on to No. 295 Madison Avenue; and Benjamin and Juliet were living at No. 270 Park Avenue.   The house on East 71^st Street remained home to their sister, Jane (known as Jennie) and brother Edmund.    Perhaps another hint of stress in the family and business is reflected in Walter Lester’s will.   When he died on March 12, 1930 he left part of his over $3 million estate to Jennie and Edmund.   Neither Benjamin nor Max was mentioned.

While Max Lissberger may not have been socially prominent, his love life did not seem to suffer.  After his death on March 7, 1933 the family was shocked when Mrs. Lydia Spiegelberg filed suit against his $1 million estate.  She told the court that she entered an agreement not to marry Max during his lifetime and “to act as companion and take care of him in his declining years.”

Her complaint said that Max Lissberger agreed to maintain her “as long as she lived, and to leave her a bequest sufficient to provide for her for the rest of her life.”  Lydia felt that the $10,000 Max left her was insufficient; saying he had spent that much every year for her expenses until his death.  She wanted $200,000.

Supreme Court Justice William T. Collins dismissed her complaint on March 22, 1934, advising her on morality at the same time.  “Marriage is the basis of civilized society and of sound morals, and is favored by the laws,” he said.  “Any unreasonable restraint upon the custom is contrary to public policy.”

Shortly after Max’s death, the last of the Lissberger family moved out of No. 16 East 71^st Street.  The Depression coupled with changing attitudes in luxury living resulted in many of the lavish mansions in the neighborhood being razed for apartment buildings, or converted to multi-family dwellings.  In 1935 a renovation was completed that resulted in the Lissberger house being converted to three spacious apartments per floors one through five, and two on the sixth.

photo by Alice Lum

Two more renovations would follow; the last, in 1980, dividing the mansion into 17 apartments, with a commercial art gallery on the first floor.    Despite the make-over, the Lissberger house and its near-twin next door are little changed on the exterior.  Although the "AIA Guide to New York City" finds them unimpressive (it called them “early 20^thcentury plain Jane whitestones"), they survive as virtually-intact reminders of the time when the last chunk of the Lenox Farm was developed as millionaire housing.

The 1911 Julius Kayser House -- No. 18 East 71st

photo by Alice Lum

In 1818 Robert Lenox paid the exorbitant amount of $6,920 (about $130,000 today) for thirty acres of farmland far north of the city.  It was an area where, at the time, wealthy New Yorkers still maintained large summer estates; yet half a century later his land would face the developing Central Park.  Lenox knew he overpaid, but recognized the potential value.

Lenox established a farm on the property complete with “horses, cattle, and farming utensils” and urged his son, James, not to sell.  In his will he left “my farm at the Five-Mile Stone” saying it “may at no distant day be the site of a village.”  Robert Lenox was only half-wrong.

When his son James died in 1880 the land had indeed grown in value.  But there was no village growing up around it—it was New York City itself that was engulfing the property.  What had been a farm was now bordered by Fifth and Madison Avenues, from 68^th to 74^thStreets.   Mansions and rowhouses began replacing the cow barns and other farm buildings.

Before his death Lenox had donated the entire block between 70^th to 71^st Street, facing Fifth Avenue, for his Lenox Library.  When the Astor, Lenox and Tilden Library were consolidated and moved into the new Carrere & Hastings Public Library building on Fifth Avenue at 42^nd Street, the magnificent Lenox Library was demolished.  The Sun, on July 30, 1911, noted “In 1906 the block from Fifth to Madison avenues, Seventieth to Seventy-first streets, known as the Lenox Library block, was the only block in the entire choice resident portion of the city which had no residence thereon.  In the meantime values, because of the locating of Central Park, because of Fifth avenue and ‘Millionaires’ Row’ and because of the restrictive character of this section, had so increased that a single strip, 1x100 feet, or 100 square feet, approximately represented the first cost of the entire farm.”

Cornelius W. Lyster, Jr. purchased the lots at Nos. 16 and 18 East 71^st Streets in 1909 and commissioned architect John H. Duncan to design two near-matching commodious homes in their place.  Duncan produced two limestone-clad residences in the neo-French Classic style.  The wealthy home buyers who were moving into the exclusive neighborhood were no longer content with cookie-cutter rowhouses built by speculative developers.  Many chose their own architects and gave input on the designs.  Duncan therefore individualized the two mansions while retaining their harmonious flow—most evident at the second floor window treatments and balconies.   Six stories tall including the two-story mansards, the millionaire-ready homes were completed in 1911.

Duncan individualized the designs through the treatments of the balconies and the second floor windows -- photo by Alice Lum

Luyster had spared no expense in creating homes worthy of New York’s wealthiest merchant class; a fact reflected in the $250,000 price tag he put on No. 18—about $4 million in today’s money.   When he sold it just over a year after completion, in January 1913, The New York Times described it as “of fire-proof construction, and built with all the conveniences for a Manhattan residence in the best residential section of the city.”  The article noted that “The greater part of the block has been improved with some of the finest homes in the city, and the Fifth Avenue end, formerly occupied by the Lenox Library building, is now being improved with the $5,000,000 home for Henry Clay Frick.”

The buyer of No. 18 was “a New York merchant,” Julius Kayser, President of Julius Kayser & Co., manufacturers of underwear and gloves.  The millionaire moved into the house with his wife, Henrietta Bache Kayser, daughter Alice, and a household staff.  There were 28 rooms, seven baths and an electric elevator. The Kayser’s other daughter, Laura, was married to Edward S. Bayer and would live nearby on the opposite side of the Lenox Block at No. 32 East 70^th Street.

Despite his age--he was 77 years old when he bought the mansion--Kayser remained active in his business and social life.  Seven years later, on March 8, 1920 he and Henrietta went to the theater.  Upon returning he was “attacked by heart trouble,” according to The Times and the following day died in the house.  The extent of his charitable generosity was reflected in the list of beneficiaries in his will.

The Times reported “He gave $72,000 in stock of his corporation for the benefit of the Kayser Girls’ Auxiliary, and $50,000 in stock to the Julius Kayser Mutual Aid Association.  Bequests of $10,000 each went to the Hebrew Orphan Asylum, Hebrew Sheltering Guardian Society, Montefiore Home, and the Hebrew Technical School for Girls.”  Kayser did not overlook his household staff.  “Mr. Kayser gave $10,000 to Ellen Drake for faithful services and $250 to each servant in his employ.”

photo by Alice Lum

Henrietta lived on in the house which, on March 17, 1938 was the scene of a wedding that was as much a stellar concert as nuptial ceremony.  Constance Hope and Dr. Milton L. Berliner were married in the parlor of the house that afternoon.  Constance was the daughter of the deceased Eugene Bernstein, a concert pianist, and his former musical colleagues contributed to the service in his honor.

Prior to the ceremony, Metropolitan Opera diva Lotte Lehmann sang “Wo du Hingehst,” followed by Wagnerian tenor Lauritz Melchoir’s “To the Bride” accompanied by composer-pianist Erno Balogh.  Then the pair sang a duet from “Tristan und Isolde,” accompanied by Fritz Reiner.  Yet another celebrated pianist, Leopold Godowsky, was on hand to play the wedding march from “Lohengrin.”  Following the ceremony, famed opera star Lily Pons sang Mozart’s “Alleluia,” and Metropolitan Opera basso Emanuel List sang a group of Viennese songs during the reception.

As Henrietta grew older, daughter Laura and the Bayer family moved into the house with her.  Henrietta's
 grandson, Edwin S. Bayer, Jr. was 42-years old in April 1940 when he left the house to go fishing upstate.  A World War I veteran, he was dressed, oddly enough, in one of his old khaki uniforms when his automobile and a truck were involved in a head-on collision around Waverly, New York.  Bayer was held in serious condition in the hospital there.

After thirty years in the house, Henrietta Bache Kayser died in her bed in December 1943 after a short illness.  A year later, on December 25, 1944, The New York Times reported on the sale of the Kayser mansion.  “Dr. I. Daniel Shorell, the plastic surgeon, has purchased the six-story dwelling…and plans to occupy it for his office and private hospital.”

Shorell saw no conflict between his opening of a private hospital in the house and his application for a stay against Katherine Dunham’s buying the house next door at No. 14 for her dance school.  Shorell’s appeal to the court “set forth that the dancer should be stopped from completing on Monday the purchase of the property, since she intends to use the premises as a dance studio in violation of the zoning laws,” reported The New York Times.  The judge did not agree.

Dance studios and private hospitals, however, were lamented by The New York Times’ Lucy Greenbaum on December 1, 1946.  She recalled that New York’s millionaires “built their homes as showplaces, importing the finest of marbles and the rarest of woods and decorating the enormous rooms with hand-cut glittering chandeliers, impressive paintings and book collections.”  Now, specifically including the house at No. 18, she lamented their fate.

“The Felix Warburg home at Ninety-second Street and Fifth Avenue now belongs to the Jewish Theological Seminary.  The old Kayser home at 18 East Seventy-first Street has been sold to a doctor and turned into a private hospital.  The Frick mansion at 1 East Seventieth Street is now a nationally known museum.”

Although Shorell was a pioneer in the field of reconstructive and plastic cosmetic surgery, his facility, the Manhattan Sanitarium, was termed by The New York Times “a nursing home.”  It provided care to wealthy patients who sought individualized care in luxurious surroundings.  One such patient was William H. Siebert who stayed here for five weeks in 1950.  The 66-year old had been with Hammacher, Schlemmer & Co. for 46 years when he died in the sanitarium on June 22.

In December 1956 the house was sold to the Youth Consultation Service, a private organization assisting adolescent girls.  Founded in 1909, it was affiliated with the Protestant Episcopal Diocese of New York and was a favorite charity of New York socialites.  The Times reported on May 27, 1960 that the association “seeks to help troubled girls and young women between the ages of 14 and 25 who are referred to it by churches, schools, colleges, hospitals and doctors or who have heard about the service.  Some are unmarried expectant mothers who are cared for at the agency’s shelter, Dana House.”

For over two decades the once-grand rooms of the Kayser family housed troubled girls and provided them counseling, care and guidance.  Then in 1977 the house was converted to a school and day care facility.  The first two floors were adapted as nurseries, classrooms, day care, multipurpose rooms and offices.

photo by Alice Lum

In 1992 a major renovation brought the Kayser house back to a single-family residence.  Despite replacement windows and doors, it looks much as it did in 1913 when the first cartfuls of the Kayer family’s furniture, oriental carpets and artwork were brought inside.

The 1903 Van Norden Mansion -- No. 8 East 62nd Street

Until the turn of the last century East 62^ndStreet between Fifth and Madison Avenues was lined with 1870s brownstone rowhouses.  But now Manhattan’s mansion district had engulfed the neighborhood and one-by-one the old homes were either razed or drastically remodeled.  Among them was No. 8 and it, too, would soon fall victim to the trend.

Built between 1879 and 1880, it was one of a row of eight matching homes constructed by architect-developers Breen & Nason.  During the 1890s it was home to the William H. Falconer family and Mrs. Falconer routinely announced her “at homes” through the newspaper society pages.

When real estate operator Thomas J. McLaughlin purchased the Falconer residence, it was the end of the line for the old brownstone.  McLaughlin commissioned John H. Duncan to design a replacement mansion on the site.  Duncan, who had recently been busy designing fine homes for millionaires like Philip Lehman and Elias Asiel, produced a five-story limestone mansion in the popular Beaux Arts style.   

Construction began in 1902 and was completed the following year.  The American basement design provided for a dramatic entranceway a few steps above the sidewalk.  Double doors with heavy French grillwork sat within a deep recess under an exquisitely-carved address cartouche surrounded by palms and ribbons.  Duncan provided a balcony for every floor, with either carved stone or handsome iron railings; each accessed by French doors.

The American Architect and Building News made note of the handsome entranceway on September 5, 1903 (copyright expired)

Although The New York Times said the house “compares favorably with any of the fine residences built speculatively east of Central Park,” it was not sold until the following year.  On August 11, 1904 the newspaper said “The price is not announced, although it is known that the house has been held at $270,000.”  That would translate to just under $7 million today.

The buyer was Warner Van Norden, President of the Van Norden Trust Company.  The Year Book of the Holland Society of New Yorkcalled him “a descendant of one of the oldest Dutch as well as one of the oldest Huguenot families that have figured in the early history of the city.”

Now 63-years old, the widowed banker and capitalist had been President of the National Bank of North America until January 1902, when he organized his trust company.  Deeply religious, he was a prominent member of the Board of Foreign Missions, a director of the American Tract Society and the New York Association for Improving the Condition of the Poor.

Van Norden had two sons, Warner Montagnie and the Rev. Theodore L. Van Norden, and a daughter.  When the 22-year old Emma joined the Salvation Army in October 1892, she had shocked Manhattan society.  At the time Van Norden dismissed reporters.  “Both he and his daughter were sorry that comments upon the fact had been printed, because Miss Van Norden’s action was entirely her own affair, and the family wished that no further talk might be made about it,” reported The New York Times on December 10 that year.

Captain Cox of the Salvation Army said she “was simply a good young woman who had joined the army on the same footing as any other girl less fortunate in the possession of affectionate parents, plenty of money and hosts of friends.”

Emma’s enthusiasm and hard work led to her becoming the private secretary to General William Booth after several years.  Her allegiance to the Salvation Army cost her some friends.  The Times later said “she was absolutely loyal to the army.  She would never go anywhere unless the army uniform was recognized, and this attitude cost her many friends in the circle in which she had been accustomed to move.”

By the time her father purchased the 62^nd Street mansion, she was traveling more than she was home.  “In carrying out her army work it was necessary for Miss Van Norden to travel extensively,” said The Times on August 29, 1906.  “It was said of her that she had visited every land where the army had a post, and this means that she had been practically all over the world.”

When she was not traveling, Emma lived in the house with her father.   In August 1906, while she was in Scotland, Warner Van Norden was in ill health.  The woman, now 35 years old, was riding in a carriage with friends, including her cousins Ottomar Van Norden and the Rev. Dr. Oliver H. Bronson, on August 21.  The party was traveling from Glen Shee to Blairgowrie when the horses bolted “overturning the carriage and throwing out the passengers with much force,” as reported by The Times.

Emma sustained horrible injuries, including a fractured skull and the newspaper account described “a portion of the brain protruding.”  She survived for a week, dying on August 18.  In reporting her death, The New York Times mentioned “Her father has been in bad health for some time, and the news of Miss Van Norden’s accident and death has rendered his condition serious.”

To made matters worse, only a few months later, in December, the funeral of Warner Van Norden’s sister, Cornelia Van Norden Bedford,  was held in the 62^nd Street house. 

The address is carved into the cartouche, from which exquisitely-carved fronds spread.  The motive is carried out in the doorway grill ornamentation.

Nevertheless, Warner Van Norden recovered and lived on in the 62^nd Street house.  His son, Warner, took over the presidency of the Van Norden Trust Company following his retirement.  Unfortunately, the junior Van Norden’s business acumen fell far short of his father’s.

Warner Van Norden died on New Year’s Day 1914.  Manhattan’s banking and social circles were shocked when it was revealed on October 15 the following year that the one-time millionaire had died penniless.  “The banker’s financial misfortune was brought about by his efforts to lift his son, Warner M. Van Norden, out of the financial hole into which the latter had fallen while President of the Van Norden Trust Company and also President of the Nineteenth Ward Bank, according to testimony of the Rev. Theodore Langdon Van Norden, another son, who appeared at the Appraiser’s hearings,” reported The Times.

The senior Van Norden had given his son everything he owned and had mortgaged the 62^nd Street house—assessed at $150,000—to the amount of $501,657.  His gross personal property amounted to $84,963 at his death; while his debts totaled nearly $450,000.

The following year in November the estate leased the house to Joseph P. Grace of W. R. Grace & Co.  Mrs. Grace lost little time in opening its doors for entertaining.  On Tuesday, January 4, 1916 she gave a dance in honor of her niece, Margaret Kent.

By the 1920s the mansion was home to the John Alexander Manson family, including Manson’s wealthy mother-in-law Mrs. George Sloane.  Mrs. Sloane had another daughter, the well-married Mrs. Albert Henry Flint; and a son, Parker Sloane, President and founder of the Roosevelt Savings Bank.  Newspapers followed the movements of the socially-prominent family; and on August 29, 1920 The Sun and the New York Herald both reported “Mrs. George Sloane of 8 East Sixty-second street is entertaining at the Mountain House, Lake Mohonk, her daughter, Mrs. Albert Henry Flint.  Her son, Mr. Parker, is at the Homestead, Hot Springs, Va.”

Two years later, on November 22, 1922, the New-York Tribunereported on Margaret Sloane Manson’s upcoming debut, which would include a dance at the Ritz-Carlton on January 2, 1922. 

Margaret Sloane Manson was a debutante in 1922 -- the New-York Tribune Nov. 20, 1922 (copyright expired)

The Mansons spend the summer in Europe in 1924, but returned in time for Margaret’s marriage to Clinton Elliott Jr. in the Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church in November.  By the mid-1930s it was Parker Sloane who was living in the house; but its days of a single-family mansion were drawing to a close.

In 1946 the residence was converted by architect James E. Casale.  There was now a doctor’s office on the first floor, a duplex above, followed by two apartments on the third floor, one on the fourth, and two on the fifth.   Shortly thereafter author Thomas O. Heggen and actor Alan Campbell took the duplex apartment.  Tragically, on May 19, 1949 Heggen was found dead in his bathtub.  The Oxford Illustrate Literary Guide to the United States later said “Heggen’s death, the result of an overdose of sleeping pills, was ruled a suicide.”

A sneak thief made his way into the apartment of Mrs. Rosalind Diener on February 18, 1957.  Rosalind’s sister, Mrs. Leona Diener Weitz of Cleveland, Ohio, had been a house guest for more than two weeks and both women were out that afternoon.  When Mrs. Weitz returned around 5:30, “she discovered that the four-room apartment had been ransacked,” reported The Times the following Day.

Most of the $77,000 in stolen furs and jewelry belonged to the visiting sister.  “The police said the missing property included two expensive mink coats, as well as diamonds, rubies and other gems in platinum settings.”  The women’s lost property would amount to approximately $600,000 today.

The house enjoyed its short time in the cinema spotlight when it appeared as the home of wealthy socialite Claire Gregory in the 1987 romance crime thriller film Someone to Watch Over Me.

In 1992 architect Emilio Ambasz paid $3.2 million for the mansion which he used as his home and office, along with the rental-producing apartments.  Then in May 2007 real estate investor Keith Rubenstein agreed to pay $35 million for No. 8 East 62^ndStreet.  According to brokers, he beat out entertainer Madonna, who offered 25 percent less.

The New York Times reported on May 27, 2007 “Now Mr. Rubenstein is planning an extensive renovation to restore the mansion, listed as having 14,000 square feet on six levels, to a single-family home.  He is planning to add a pool and a Russian steam bath, in a renovation that he said could take up to two years to complete.”

Today the distinguished Beaux Arts façade has been carefully restored and, as Thomas McLaughlin intended in 1902, No. 8 East 62^ndStreet is a private home to a very wealthy owner.

photographs by the author

The Ludwig Dreyfuss House -- No. 52 East 68th Street

photo by Alice Lum

Brothers David and John Jardine were highly active in the development of the Upper East Side where they erected rows of speculative rowhouses following the end of the Civil War .  The developers acted as their own architects and in 1879 completed a row of five brownstone clad homes at Nos. 52 through 60 East 68^th Street, just two blocks from Fifth Avenue.  Four stories tall over high English basements, they featured dignified neo-Grec elements.

The houses at No. 52 and 54 were purchased by millionaire Anderson Fowler as investment properties.  Fowler had made his fortune in the West in the packing business and upon his retirement he invested heavily in mining and other industrial enterprises.  For his own family (which included nine children) Fowler chose another Jardine house, completed the same year, across the street at No. 41 East 68^th.

On April 14, 1888 the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide reported that “Ludwig Dreyfuss has purchased the four-story stone front dwelling No. 52 East 68^th street.”  Dreyfuss had married one of the daughters of Marcus Goldman.  Goldman made his fortune providing diamond merchants and hide and leather dealers with ready cash in exchange for a note promising repayment plus interest.  The dealers in such promissory notes were known as “note shavers.”  Goldman was trading in as much as $5 million a year.

By 1885 Marcus Goldman had already taken Sam Sachs as a partner (Sam had married Goldman’s daughter, Louisa).  Now he also took his son, Henry, and Ludwig Dreyfuss into the firm, changing the name to Goldman Sachs & Co.

While Ludwig worked at the banking firm, his wife busied herself in worthy causes.  One of these was the Children’s Charitable Union, of which she was Treasurer.  The organization was founded in 1876 “to provide kindergarten instruction and classes in sewing for children of the poorer classes, without means to pay for tuition, giving them a warm noon meal.”

As the turn of the century arrived the brownstone house and its neighbors had become architecturally passé.  Dreyfuss commissioned architect John H. Duncan to modernize the home in 1900.  Duncan had designed impressive mansions, like the Philip Lehman house at No. 7 West 54^th Street; but he was best known for his imposing Grant’s Tomb and the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Memorial Arch in Brooklyn’s Grand Army Plaza.

Unlike some of the other radical make-overs on the block, Duncan’s renovations would leave no question that this was Victorian brownstone wearing new clothes.   The brownstone stoop remained, but was given new iron railings with a swirling French design.  Duncan carried out the Beaux Arts motif on the first and second floors.  The parlor received a vast arched French-styled window behind an ornamental grill.  At the second floor the original trio of openings was replaced by a curved oriel window.

A swirling grill protects the interesting French-inspired window at the parlor level -- photo by Alice Lum

There is little doubt that Dreyfuss instructed his architect to take the renovations no further.  The upper two floors retained their neo-Grec windows and the original bracketed cornice.  The result is a residence straddling two architectural eras; looking much like an unfinished project.

The Dreyfuss family lived on in the house for another decade.  Then on March 25, 1911 the Record & Guide announced that Ludwig had sold the house.   “The buyer will occupy,” reported the newspaper.

“The buyer” was Albert B. Ashforth, President of the Real Estate Board, President and Director of the Albert B. Ashford real estate company, and a director and trustee in other firms and banks.  Ashforth was not merely wealthy, he was descended from what The New York Times would deem a “distinguished old New York” family.  He was a relative of historian and intellectual Henry Adams, and he held memberships in several clubs, including the Union League, Bankers, and Automobile Club.  His love for golf was reflected in his memberships in the Greenwich Country Club, the Garden City Golf Club and the Blin Brook Club.

On January 3, 1925 the Ashforths' son, Henry, married Elizabeth Milbank Anderson in a fashionable ceremony in the Park Avenue Baptist Church.  A reception at the Colony Club followed.  The New York Times remarked that “The bride’s grandmother, Mrs. Milbank Anderson, was noted for her benefactions, having made large gifts to Columbia University.”

Three years later Albert B. Ashforth sold the house to his neighbor Margaretta C. Clark.  She lived across the street in No. 49 and bought Ashforth’s property “to prevent the erection of a high building which would seriously affect the light and air of her residence,” explained The Times on April 20, 1928.  The $125,000 she spent on the house would amount to about $1.6 million today.

A year later, on October 30, 1930, Silas M. Newton married journalist Nan O’Reilly.  O’Reilly’s astonishing career began at the age of 14 when she submitted a real estate article to the New-York Tribune.  For the next five years she was on the Tribune staff; then moved on to The Evening Post.  While there she wrote her first column on golf and forever after she would be associated with that game.  A year before her marriage to Newton she was made golf editor of The Evening Journal.  The newspaper introduced her to its readers as “The only female in captivity who has conducted a daily golf column.”

Silas Newton was an oil company official and a high ranking amateur golfer—the latter having resulted in the pair’s meeting and romance.  Although Newton was apparently highly successful, his fortune paled to that of his wife.  The New York Times said that “At the time of the marriage…it was said that Miss O’Reilly was heiress to an estimate of about $40,000,000.”

Above the updated lower floors, the Victorian house remained unchanged.  photo by Alice Lum

The Newtons moved into No. 52 East 68^thStreet.  As what was apparently a wedding present of sorts, Newton purchased jewelry for his new wife at the auction of the estate of Rita De Acosta Lydig. 

Then, on Tuesday evening, February 10, Nan removed her jewelry and placed it in a case on her dressing table in the second floor bedroom.  The next night, while dressing for dinner, she attempted to open the case but found one of the catches stuck.  “One of her maids assisted her,” reported The New York Times.  “When it was opened Mrs. Newton found ten of the most valuable pieces of jewelry were missing.”

Some of the items were those Silas had purchased at the Lydig auction.  The Times said the total value of the ten missing pieces was about $15,000—about $215,000 today and quite a haul in the Great Depression years.  “The ten missing pieces included a pearl necklace, two bracelets and rings,” said the newspaper.

More trouble would come to the Newton household five months later.  On July 8 Silas was arrested “on a charge of conspiring with two others to defraud a 74-year-old man of his life savings, amounting to $25,000,” according to The New York Times on the following day.  Newton dismissed the incident to reporters, insisting it was all a misunderstanding.

“He took his arrest lightly and said the entire matter would be cleared up.  He denied any wrongdoing, and told the detectives that if the complainant thought there was anything wrong, he should have called at his office,” said The Times.

Silas Newton most likely began taking the affair less lightly when the state of New Jersey began extradition proceedings two days later.  In addition to the fraud charges, he was being charged with being a fugitive from justice in New Jersey.

The scandal was no doubt an embarrassment to Nan O’Reilly who, according to The Times in 1937, “contributed to, or otherwise worked for, every newspaper published in New York in the last twenty-five years.”  The couple’s marriage did not survive significantly longer.  Divorced, Nan died in 1937 at the age of just 41.

By 1943 No. 52 was the home of Dr. Francis D. Gulliver and his family.  Gulliver was a specialist in diseases of the eye and was the author of articles such as his 1942 “Particles of Steel Within the Globe of the Eye” published in a medical journal. 

The year 1943 was especially noteworthy for the family.  On September 5 daughter Ruth Ann was married to Charles Daniel Sullivan; and a few months later the engagement of Frances was announced. 

A year earlier President Franklin D. Roosevelt had created the SPARS—the United States Coast Guard Women’s Reserve.  Among the first enlistees was Frances Gulliver and by the time her engagement was announced she had risen to the rank of Lieutenant.  Interestingly, Frances outranked her husband-to-be.  Richard O. Jordan was an ensign in the United States Coast Guard Reserve.

photo by Alice Lum

In 1952 the house was purchased by the Marquise Margaret de Cuevas and in 1984 it was converted to offices.  Today the house with the architectural split personality is owned by the Center for Inter-American Relations.

The 1900 Philip Lehman House -- No. 7 West 54th Street

A frescoed ceiling can be glimpsed through the second story French doors -- photo by beyond my Ken

As the 20th Century approached, the mansions of the very wealthy spilled from 5th Avenue in midtown onto the side streets. When the massive St. Luke’s Hospital was demolished after the facility moved to Amsterdam Avenue in 1896, valuable real estate became available.

Among the fashionable, upper-class homes that were erected along the north side of West 54th Street was No. 7 in the popular Beaux Arts style, directly across the street from the substantial brownstone mansion of John D. Rockefeller, Sr. at No. 4.

The residence was commissioned by financier Philip Lehman whose father, Emanuel, had co-founded Lehman Brothers in the 1850s. By the time Philip hired architect John H. Duncan to design his new home Lehman Brothers was one of the world’s most important banking firms.

As the street developed, the residences of other high-level bankers rose alongside the Lehman house including James Goodwin of J. P. Morgan and John D. Rockefeller, Jr.

Duncan produced a rusticated, 4-story limestone structure with a tall, nearly-vertical slate covered mansard roof, completed in 1900. Two deep copper-framed oculi, or round windows, pierced the mansard above the carved fourth-floor window surrounds. A bowed stone balcony connected the tall French doors of the second floor, and elaborate carved festoons and cartouches filled the spaces between the second and third stories.

On August 17, 1901 The American Architect published its photograph of the new residence

Carrie Lehman died in the house on November 10, 1937 at the age of 72. After Philip’s death a decade later, his son Robert took up residency. Robert had the mansion redecorated in the 1960s and focused much of his attention and passion on enlarging the family’s art collection which already included works by painters such as Rembrandt, Goya, Durer, Renoir, Ingres and El Greco.

Lehman’s keen eye and adept negotiating skills resulted in a treasury of over 3,000 works of art; one of the most extensive and exceptional collections in the United States. The home became his private gallery and his wish was that it be dismantled and reconstructed as a wing of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in which to house his collection. In 1962 the house was opened to the public for one week to view what The New York Times called “one of the last great privately held art collections in the world.” The $25 entrance fee was donated to the Institute of Fine Arts, a graduate school of New York University.

When Robert Lehman died in 1969 his will bequeathed the artwork to the Metropolitan Museum with the caveat that it must always remain together.

Rather than move the entire mansion, the Metropolitan Museum dismantled several of its room which were installed as part of the Robert Lehman Wing which opened in 1975.

The Lehman House was purchased by the 7 West 54th Street Realty Corp. in 1974 and went through a series of owners until 2006 when it was purchased by Zimmer Lucas Partners for renovation into offices and entertaining spaces. The hedge fund firm commissioned architect Belmont Freeman Architects to restore the house as much as possible to its appearance during Robert Lehman’s ownership. The architects not only restored the limestone façade, but brokered a deal between the Metropolitan Museum and the new owners to return architectural artifacts which the museum was holding in storage. In addition, the Met allowed the firm to take casts of other architectural details for replication purposes.

The Lehman House in 2011

A modern glass penthouse addition, invisible from the street, was constructed and high-tech systems were installed throughout the property.

Today the Lehman House is one in a row of five surviving turn-of-the-century residences on West 54th Street; a rare and remarkable glimpse back to a time when millionaires and their families lived on 5th Avenue’s side streets.

non-credited photographs taken by the author

The 1901 Elias Asiel Mansion -- No. 15 E. 63rd Street

photo by Alice Lum

In 1906 wealthy financier Elias Asiel and his family left their New York mansion at No. 15 East 63^rd Street and set sail for Europe.   Among the staff who traveled with them was butler Sidney H. Gooch.   Another butler, Frederick Rubie, was left behind in charge of the remaining staff and the house.

When the Asiels returned they discovered that their butler had cleaned them out.   According to The New York Times on August 2, 1906, “what he left worth taking he didn’t see or couldn’t get at.”   Rubie had walked away with $1,600 worth of jewelry and silverware—about $32,000 in goods today.

The 52-year old Asiel was irate and before long the thief was arrested in Montclair, New Jersey with the pawn tickets for goods in his belongings.   As it would turn out, Rubie’s subsequent conviction would set the stage for another, even more serious robbery.

Born in 1852, Elias Asiel had risen to prominence in New York’s social and financial worlds.  The head of the firm Asiel & Co., he was also a trustee of the Mount Sinai Hospital and patron of the arts.   He married the former Marie Moulin and in 1885 purchased the newly-built brownstone rowhouse at No. 15 East 63^rd Street, just off Fifth Avenue and Central Park.   The couple would have one daughter, Irma, and a son, Nelson Irving.

As the 20^th century approached, the old brownstones had fallen out of favor and millionaires along Fifth Avenue’s side streets set out to replace or remodel their homes.  In 1901 Asiel commissioned architect John H. Duncan to design a new mansion on the site of the existing rowhouse.   The completed Beaux Arts beauty had nothing in common with its late Victorian predecessor.

The five-story, limestone-clad mansion echoed the streets of Paris with arched French windows draped with delicate floral carving.  The copper-trimmed two-story mansard and fashionable American basement meant that the Asiel family was no longer behind the architectural times.

Carved shells and delicate floral garlands highlight the French windows -- photo by Alice Lum

Five years later, at the time that Asiel’s butler robbed him, the block was described by The Evening World as “in the heart of a section of the city occupied exclusively by millionaires…Some of his prominent neighbors are the Postleys, the Bloomingdales and the Brokaws.”  But mansions drew thieves and the same article noted “At No. 1 East Sixty-third street lives E. W. Woerz, the brewer, who, with his daughters and servants, was held up and robbed at the point of a pistol in his home by ‘Sand Rock’ Smith two years ago.”

Frederick Rubie was now incarcerated in Sing Sing prison.  He boasted of his crime and told other inmates that the Asiel mansion was an easy mark.   Among them was Charles S. Neilson who later admitted that “while confined in Sing Sing, he met a man who said he formerly worked for Asiel and was ‘doing time’ for stealing stuff from his employer’s home.”

He said “the man who represented himself as the former butler for Asiel told him how easy it would be for him to enter Mr. Asiel’s home and get away with many valuable things.”   The seed was planted for a violent robbery just months after the first theft.

The porch railings were executed in bronze, rather than the more expected stone or wrought iron -- photo by Alice Lum

Early Wednesday morning, December 5, 1906, Elias awoke to find two masked gunmen standing over his bed.  The Sun reported that “They told him that they knew he kept his silverware in a safe in the dining room and he had better get it for them.”    The Minneapolis Journal, the same day, vividly painted the crime.  “’We’ll shoot if you make a squeak,’ said a voice as the men behind the guns began to draw slowly away toward the door of the room.”

The feisty Elias Asiel would not be intimidated.  He raised himself up in the bed and hollered for help from his servants.  “In an instant the two men were upon him raining blows upon his head, and when a servant who had heard the cries rushed into the room the broker was lying helpless on the verge of insensibility, his pillow soaked with blood,” said The Minneapolis Journal.

The Evening World ran a headline “Elias Asiel Pounded Insensible with Brass Knuckles in Bedroom” and described the beating  and his being bound and gagged.  “The gag used was carried by one of the burglars.  It was made of surgeons’ gauze, packed into a ball and attached to two pieces of tape.  The other burglar carried the cord with which Mr. Asiel was bound, and the cord and the gag area are the only clues the daring thieves left behind them.”

Despite Asiel’s valiant struggle and his refusal to reveal the location of the safe, “When Mr. Asiel’s daughter reached her father’s room the men were gone, with his watch, chain, cuff links and half a dozen scarf pins, and also with a quantity of silverware from the dining room,” said The Sun.

The broker’s watch was valued at $250, the thieves found $90 in cash and according to The Sun the jewelry and silverware was valued at $3,000—a $65,000 haul today without even finding the good stuff.

The New-York Tribune noted that “Mr. Asiel was so badly beaten that it was some time before he could go to his office.”  The furious millionaire was intent on finding the criminals.

The Times reported four days later “Elias Asiel…is determined to leave no stone unturned in his efforts to discover and punish the two robbers who attacked him.

Mr. Asiel, with this object in view, has offered three rewards—one of $500 for information which will lead to the discovery of the stolen articles, consisting of silverware, a gold watch, and stickpins; a second of $1,000 for the arrest of the burglars, and a third reward of $2,000 for information which will lead to their arrest and conviction.”

Despite the hefty rewards, it would be nearly two years before detectives found their men.    They connected the former butler with prison mates.   The Sun reported on August 13, 1908 that Robie “had had for mates in the washroom Charles Neilson and another prisoner.  Robie had many talks with the two men and detectives came to the conclusion that Robie had told them of the layout of the Asiel home.  The two men were released two days before the robbery.”

Police arrested Charles Neilson at his job as a fireman at the Port Morris powerhouse of the New York Central Railroad.  He was held at $10,000 bail and, possibly worse, would have to face Elias Asiel in the courtroom.

On the same block lived the family of the late Lyman Bloomingdale who had died in 1903.  He and his brother, Joseph, had developed their father’s dry goods business into the hugely successful Bloomingdale’s Department Store.  Joseph and his family also lived nearby at No. 11 East 67^th Street.   On January 5, 1909 the engagement of Irma Asiel to Joseph Bloomingdale’s son, Louis, was announced.   After their marriage the newlyweds would move into the Bloomingdale mansion at No. 21 East 63^rd, conveniently down the street from the Asiels.

On February 1, 1919 Elias Asiel retired from business life.    Just a year later, on November 10, he died at the age of 68.   The newspapers were flooded with tributes to the generous and apparently caring millionaire.   The Board of Trustees of Mount Sinai Hospital wrote, in part, “One of his most marked characteristics was his deep sense of justice and his intense sympathy for the weak and friendless, who never had a more loyal supporter of their cause, and in whose behalf he battled as could only one with a deep human understanding and never-failing kindness of heart.”

Nelson Asiel and his wife lived on in the mansion for years, announcing the engagement of their daughter, Doris, to Bruce A. Gimbel in 1937.  Then, in 1952, Elias Asiel’s elegant Beaux Arts mansion was converted to a few commodious apartments.

Mr. and Mrs. William T. Brady moved into the three-story apartment.  Brady was vice president of the Corn Products Refining Company of No. 17 Battery Place.  The luxurious home would, once again, be the scene of a robbery.

On August 16, 1954 while Mrs. Brady was out shopping, her maid ordered groceries.  As the delivery boy approached the house around 2:45 p.m.  a well-dressed man asked him “That for the Bradys?”  When the boy answered, yes, the man tossed him a 50-cent piece and offered, “I’ll take it in.”

When the maid, Lucille Griffin, answered the door, she was confronted with a young man, about 30 years old in a gray suit and fedora, holding her groceries.  Unsuspecting, she let him in.

The Times reported that then, “Inside, the fake grocery boy dropped his pretense, declaring: ‘I’m not selling anything,’ and produced a gun.

“He forced Miss Griffin upstairs into a bedroom and bound her wrists and ankles with several silk scarfs.  Another scarf was used for a gag.  Uninjured, she removed her bonds minutes after his departure.”

But before that departure, the robber spent 25 minutes in the house, removing $38,250 in jewelry from an unlocked wall safe in a bedroom closet, and $3,700 in cash.  He also helped himself to two of Mrs. Brady’s fur stoles and a fur coat, valued at just under $5,000.

photo by Alice Lum

The Brady’s three-floor apartment was inhabited by interior designer Thomas Britt when Marianne Nestor, widow of fashion designer Oleg Cassini, and her sister, Peggy Nestor, bought the mansion in 1984.  Britt’s 3,000-foot apartment had been featured several times in Architectural Digest.  The new owners wanted him out.

Two decades of legal wrangling ensued and with each new court case Britt came out the winner.  The greatly-frustrated co-owners remained resolute and continued to attempt eviction.  In the meantime, they would be back in court regarding another issue.

Entertainer Neil Diamond lived on the top floor of No. 17 East 63^rd Street in 2006 and had exclusive rights to the use of the rooftop.   He renovated the roof space “to create a serene environment” for himself, according to the Associated Press.   His serenity was interrupted by Cassini and Nestor when they began construction on a 13-foot high addition.

The singer-songwriter sued the women for violating zoning restrictions and for damages, claiming “the value of his apartment has been substantially diminished and the construction has irreparably damaged his enjoyment of his apartment and rooftop.”

The women’s problems increased the following year when Thomas Britt won a judgment for his legal fees going back 20 years—a hefty $93,249.88.

The decorative carving of the Asiel mansion has been called "exquisite." -- photo by Alice Lum

The handsome 1901 mansion remains home to the Oleg Cassini Design Studio and sits on a block where other Beaux Arts mansions share space with still-surviving 1880s brownstone rowhouses.

The 1904 Hotel Wolcott -- No. 4 West 31st Street

At the turn of the century, when Fifth Avenue in the 30s was being transformed from an area of mansions to a high-end commercial district—spurred by the construction of the hulking Waldorf-Astoria Hotel on the site of the Astor houses—apartment living still carried the stigma of the tenement.

One way developers evaded this taint was to build “residence hotels.”   Tenants availed themselves of the freedom from maintaining a private house, enjoyed the full services of a hotel staff, and avoided being branded as apartment dwellers.

Among the first of the stylish hotels just off Fifth Avenue was the Hotel Wolcott at No. 4 West 31^st Street.  It was the latest venture by James H. Breslin who had been in the hotel business since the Civil War.  Breslin’s extensive experience with the best hotels in New York, including the Fifth Avenue and Gilsey House Hotels, provided him with the acumen to cater to the wealthiest and most demanding of guests.

The hotelier became known for his  list of guidelines for men in the hotel trade:

Work.
Don't grow old.
Keep good natured.
Don't forget names and faces.
Stick to honest dealing.
Remember that cleanliness is next to godliness.
Keep pace with the times if you can't keep a little ahead of them.
Keep your old employees around you so that when old friends enter your door they will feel as though they were getting back home.

The new hotel was designed by John Duncan; a twelve-story Beaux Arts confection dripping with carved garlands, heavy scrolled brackets and over-sized sculptures.  One- and two-story dormers broke the surface of the towering mansard roof and the lobby was like entering Versailles.

Named after Henry Roger Wolcott, a Senator from Colorado, the hotel opened on May 1, 1904.  Among those looking over the 300 rooms were eminent politicians like Representative Charles Arnette Towne and former Governor Frank S. Black.  

The brochure at the time of the opening boasted a bathroom with every suite.  “The rooms are big enough, but not too big.  Comfortable, not barny,” it said.   The brochure spoke of the freshness of the Cape Cod oysters and the “little chickens that come unplucked from the Jersey farms,” to be had in the restaurant.

But it was service that Breslin knew would impress his upper-crust clientele.  “There is always a servant glad to do just what you want done, in just the way you want it done, at your command on the instant.  Never a servant to annoy you with superfluous attention.”

The brochure promised “A valet always at hand to brush your clothes and press them.  A ladies’ maid deft in the hooking up of delicate gowns.  If you like your trunk will be unpacked when you come, and packed again when you go.”

Immense carved keystones ornament the first floor windows.

James Breslin introduced a service taken for granted today: the supplying of miniature toiletries, bathrobes and other often-forgotten necessities.  “A white cravat or hairpin, a tooth-brush, or a welcome knot of fresh chiffon.  A bath-robe or a night dress—spick and span in a sealed envelope.  An umbrella for a rainy day.  Fresh brushes and combs—indeed everything that the difficulties of one guest suggest, has been provided, against the possibility of a like difficulty again.”

The up-to-date hotel offered a telephone in every room, connected to the main office, which could “connect with every other telephone everywhere."

This 1907 postcard view shows that Fifth Avenue had become heavily commercialized, while brownstone homes still abut the Hotel Wolcott along 31st Street.

The level of accommodations is evident in that the room rates remained for years nearly identical to those charged at the Waldorf-Astoria.  On opening day a room with bath ranged from $3.00 upward; a suite of drawing room, bedroom and bath from $8.00.  Servants rooms were $2.00 with an additional $1.50 for meals.   (In 1917 both the Waldorf and the Wolcott were charging $5.00 a night for a double with bath.)

The proximity to Fifth Avenue and the Waldorf-Astoria attracted wealthy transient guests, as well as long-time residents.   On October 21, 1905 Mrs. Calderon Carlisle, of Washington DC, and her daughter checked into rooms 608, 609 and 610.   The following Wednesday evening when the women attended the theater, Mrs. Carlisle wore a pair of large pearl earrings and a matching pearl necklace--this at a time when matched pearls were as costly as diamonds.

The following afternoon, around 2:00, Mrs. Carlisle opened the silver jewelry box on her dresser.  Her pearl earrings were gone.  Further investigation revealed that the necklace, valued at around $5,000, was also missing, along with other items—a total theft of around $10,000.

It was not the sort of publicity the relatively new hotel needed.  The management hoped to keep news out of the press and away from potential, rich patrons.   While the house detective was put on the case, the police were not notified, causing The New York Times to pronounce an “attempt to hush it up.”

Indeed the victim was not of much help either.  When the police heard of the crime and sent a detective to investigate, the Washington socialite “told Detective Brueck very little about the robbery, resenting what she called the interference of the police,” said The Times.

On March 31, 1906 James H. Breslin died in his rooms at the Hotel Wolcott.  The 72-year old had suffered from Bright’s disease for more than a year.  Two years later, George T. Stockham purchased the lease and furnishings of the hotel.  Stockham had been manager of the Hotel Breslin nearby on Broadway which opened the same year as the Wolcott.

Among the permanent guests at the time was John Griffin Carlisle, a retired politician whose distinguished career included the post of Secretary of the Treasury under Grover Cleveland.  Others included General Jose de Zayas and his wife, a wealthy retired Cuban merchant.  The couple spent their winters here and summered in Paris.

Robert c. Rathbone, known  as the “dean of the insurance business in New York City,” lived here at the same time as Philip J. Dwyer, a “notable horse figure” in the city.

The hotel became a yearly meeting place for the American League baseball owners around 1910.  It was here that year that R. L. Hedges announced to the League that he would sell his majority interest in the St. Louis Browns baseball club.  The New York Tribune reported that “It was estimated that the sum involved would mount well into six figures.”

An even bigger sensation was caused in 1918.  The Times reported that “A prolonged whispering discussion between Manager Miller Huggins of the Yankees and President Frank Navin of the Detroit Club caused a flurry among the baseball men assembled at the Hotel Wolcott yesterday and started the sensational report that Ty Cobb might be tempted to wear a Yankee uniform next season.”

Despite the somewhat less-than-genteel atmosphere of baseball talks, the Hotel Wolcott continued to be a destination for wealthy travelers.  And it also continued, therefore, to be attractive to jewel thieves.

The lobby gushes with rococo ornamentation.

On April 19, 1920 John A. DeKay, editor of the Montreal Spur, and his wife returned to their rooms after an early dinner.  They found one of their trunks open and a jewel case containing gems and cash missing.  The total value of the items stolen was around $10,000.  Detectives suspected the guest who was registered in the room next door, whom The Times described as a “swarthy, stocky man of about 30 years.”  When the hotel intercepted a telegram from the man’s wife with a return address in upstate New York, the police were on his tail.

In 1942 nothing had changed other than a new electric sign.

Although the 31^st Street neighborhood experienced a decline after the middle of the 20^thcentury, and the Wolcott along with it, the area revived with the beginning of the 21^st.  The hotel underwent an extensive renovation and restoration of the façade, bringing the rooms onto par with modern hotels while retaining the grandeur of James Breslin’s 1904 showplace.

Bay windows add dimension to the facade, rising to immense carved faces, swags, and a cartouche reading "WOLCOTT."

non-credited photographs taken by the author