The 1914 J. P. Morgan & Co. Building

Photo Library of Congress

As we agonize under the constant threat of terrorism in the 21st Century, we tend to forget that such activity is not new to the world. In the beginning of the 20th Century it was the “anarchists” who disrupted daily life and planted fear in the hearts of civilians.


On September 16, 1920 brokers and bankers went about their daily routine along Wall Street. Just before noon a mail carrier opened the letter box at Cedar Street and Broadway and found a hand-written note: “Remember we will not tolerate any longer. Free the political prisoners or it will be sure death for all of you. American Anarchists Fighters.”

Shortly thereafter, as the clock in Trinity Church tolled 12:00, a horse-drawn cart packed with 1000 pounds of dynamite and 500 pounds of metal, chunks of iron sash weights and other schrapnel, exploded on the Wall Street side of the J. P. Morgan bank building at 23 Wall Street.

The blast was fearsome, blowing out the glass panes of office buildings for blocks. There were 30 immediate fatalities, hundreds of injured. Six more would subsequently die of wounds.

The Morgan Building made an iconic target as a symbol of capitalism in a time of rising Marxism and Leninism. The terrorists, however, were unaware of the 7-foot thick Tennessee marble walls that withstood the blast structurally unscathed. “If,” said The New York Times, “as is generally believed, the explosion was an anarchist assault upon J. P. Morgan & Co. as a leading banking firm, it failed in its purpose.”

“Although the interior of the Morgan offices was wrecked, the substantial stone building, except for some slightly defacing scars, was not damaged. Within four hours after the explosion workmen were repairing the damage…” said the article. Many of the 400 to 500 employees in the building sustained cuts from flying glass, however only one Morgan associate was killed.

The Morgan building was just four years old at the time.   In 1912, J. P. Morgan had purchased the Drexel Building, used as headquarters for the Mechanics and Metals Bank, as a site for his new offices.  The banker hired architects Towbridge & Livingston, who had recently designed the Bankers Trust Building diagonally across the street.

A year later, on February 18, The New York Times anticipated the new building. “The plans as at present decided upon provide for a building of only two stories, but it will have the height of a four-story structure, as both of the floors will be of exceptional height. The foundations, however, will be sunk in bedrock, sixty feet or so below the surface, giving an opportunity of enlarging the building to thirty or forty stories, if required , in the future.”

Planning for the “opportunity of enlarging the building” included the 7-foot thick lower walls, capable of sustaining the weight and ultimately responsible for surviving the explosion.

“The new Morgan banking house will be constructed entirely of Knoxville marble, the same kind of stone used for Mr. Morgan’s art gallery and library,” said the article. “It will be of a simple Italian Renaissance type of architecture. The main floor will be used for the general banking rooms. Executive offices and conference rooms will be on the second floor.”

J. P. Morgan died in 1913, before construction began. When completed, the staid structure won immediate praise from the Real Estate Record and Guide, which said ''The best skill which Athens could command at the height of her glory was given the construction.” The Guide called it “a rival to the Parthenon.”

The banking floor was a single five-sided room with a 30-foot coffered ceiling around a domed skylight. Each of the paneled partners offices upstairs boasted a fireplace. Outside, there was no sign. If a person did not know that the building was J. P. Morgan & Co. he probably did not belong there.

In 1959 J.P. Morgan & Co. merged with the Guaranty Trust Company, forming Morgan Guaranty Trust Company. In 1960 they merged the 23 Wall Street building with the 1929 Trowbridge & Livingston 38-story building behind it at 15 Broad Street. Architects Rogers & Burgun ripped out most of the 1920s interiors of the skyscraper, replacing them with 1960s Modern designs; however the main banking lobby of the old Morgan building was left essentially intact.

The reprieve was relatively short-lived, however, and in the 1990s the grand banking lobby was stripped of its original detailing and renovated into a training and conference facility.

When Morgan Guaranty merged with Chase Bank in 2000 the building was abandoned and demolition of the skyscraper was proposed, however three years later the combined properties were sold for $100 million. An additional $135 million was spent by A. I. & Boymelgreen to convert them to residential condominiums called “Downtown by Philippe Starck.” Starck, perhaps France’s most prominent designer, not only designed the roof of 23 Wall Street into a garden and pool area for the residents, but added a small theatre, squash courts, bowling alley, and basketball courts for the amusement of the residents.

The façade of the old Morgan Building is still pock-marked with the damaged of the 1920 explosion. The Morgan Company was adamant about not repairing it; perhaps as a symbol of the bank’s resilience. Whatever the reason, the scarred marble at 23 Wall Street is a vivid reminder of a time of terrorism in American we have been quick to forget.

C. Ledyard Blair's Lavish 1901 Carriage House -- 123 E. 63rd Street

photo by Alice Lum

In 1900 the wealthy and socially prominent Clinton Ledyard Blair began construction of his carriage house at 123 East 63rd Street. It was a busy time for construction for the financier and yachtsman. His enormous Louis XIII-style mansion, “Blairsden,” designed by Carerre & Hastings, was rising across the river in Peapack-Gladstone, New Jersey. The lavish home was begun in 1898 and would not be completed until 1903.

Blair and his wife, Florence, lived with their four daughters in a mansion at 5th Avenue and 70th Street – also designed by Carerre & Hastings. But for their new carriage house, Blair turned to the architectural firm of Trowbridge & Livingston who, while they would go on to design important buildings like the marble B. Altman and Company store and the St. Regis Hotel, were still establishing themselves.

Blair gave the architects an unusual task. Not only was the building needed to house the Blair carriages; it would double as the studio of muralist and society portrait artist John White Alexander.

Both Blair and Alexander were directors of the Equitable Life Insurance Company and both were trustees of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Additionally, their wives were involved in many of the same charities. No doubt these connections resulted in the symbiotic plans for the carriage house.

As construction got underway in 1900, Alexander returned triumphantly to New York from France on October 8 where he had been awarded a gold medal at the Paris Exposition for portraits; one of which was of Auguste Rodin.

“His studio, which is in process of construction, is at 123 East Sixty-third Street,” The New York Times added as a side note.

The carriage house and studio was completed in 1901 and it was a showstopper. The limestone and brick Beaux Arts structure sat on a rusticated base with a centered carriage door. Above a plain stone cornice, the second and third stories were faced in red brick with limestone quoins along the sides and a central limestone section serving as a base for a robust stone and wrought iron balcony under an ambitious stone hood.

The deeply-recessed French doors of Alexander's studio led to an ornate wrought iron balcony -- photo by Alice Lum

Alexander’s two-story sun-washed studio was at this level, rising into the mansard roof which was punctuated by two copper-framed oculi.

The artist used this studio for his portrait work; for his mural painting he had a second studio in Carnegie Hall. During the early days of the 20th Century a full-length portrait was a must for wealthy women and young, newly married socialites rushed to the studios of artists like Alexander, James McNeill Whistler, Thomas Sully and Howard Cushing.

Mrs. Herman Duryea posed for her portrait in Alexander's studio.

John W. Alexander died on May 31, 1915. Four years after Clinton Ledyard Blair died in 1949, the carriage house was purchased by the newly-formed Gurdjieff Foundation, Inc., a non-profit philanthropic organization, and converted to its headquarters. The ground floor became a private gymnasium with a library, committee room and trustees offices on the second floor. John Alexander’s studio was reborn as the Board Room and Conference Room.

The lavish French carriage house stands essentially unchanged today. A remarkable example of the extravagant and elegant service buildings of the wealthy at the turn of the century.

The Lost Juilliard Mansion -- No. 11 West 57th Street

photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWNA38W3&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

Among the wealthy urban pioneers who ventured as far north as West 57^th Street in the post-Civil War years were John and Elizabeth Auchincloss.  John was the grandson of Hugh Auchincloss who arrived in New York City in 1803 and started the family dry goods business soon afterward.  By mid-century the Auchincloss family was among the wealthiest in Manhattan and the fine 30-foot wide brownstone rowhouse of John and Elizabeth at No. 11 West 57^th Street reflected the fact.  Decades later The New York Times would remember “the couple lived for a time in Whitehall Street, but when crowded out by the encroachment of business houses, moved up to what was then the suburbs, now the very heart of the city.”

After John died in 1876, Elizabeth continued to live on in the 57^th Street house.  She would see the neighborhood change as the mansions of the Vanderbilts, Goulds and Goelets rose along Fifth Avenue, just steps from her door.

Across the street from Elizabeth, by 1895, Augustus D. Juilliard and his wife Helen lived at No. 16 West 57^th Street.  Juilliard had been born on at sea in 1836 as his Huguenot parents headed to the United States.  A self-made man, by now he was well-respected, highly successful and unbelievably wealthy.  The New York Times said of him on September 24, 1895 “Augustus D. Julliard is head of one of the most prominent dry goods commission houses in the city.  He is a Republican, a member of the Union League Club, and a leader in the High-Tariff League.  He is a trustee of the Mutual Life Insurance Company and a Director in the Central Trust Company, the Bank of Jamaica, and the United States Guaranty and Indemnity Company.”

Juilliard was also a Parks Commissioner at the time and would increase his fortune in railroads, as well.  He and Helen were childless and devoted much of their time and money to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Metropolitan Opera (of which Augustus was President), and the American Museum of Natural History.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth Auchincloss continued her regime of summers in Newport.  In 1902 The New York Times mentioned “She returned last week from her Summer home in Newport, of which she was a pioneer Summer cottager more than half a century ago.”  Only days after her return she became ill and on October 27, 1902 the 80-year old socialite died in the 57^th Street house.

A few months later, on January 24, 1903, the four-story house was sold to Augustus D. Juilliard for $215,000—a considerable $5.5 million in today’s dollars.  At the time the house sat squarely in Manhattan’s most exclusive residential neighborhood.  Few recognized the threat of the hotels and business buildings that were creeping up Fifth Avenue—already having claimed as victims the John and William Astor mansions twenty blocks below.  Most millionaire homeowners still believed that the commercial tide could be successfully held off.

Augustus D. Juilliard in 1910 -- The National Cyclopaedia of American Biography (copyright expired)

Among those confident in the stability of the neighborhood were the aging Juilliards.  The architectural firm of Trowbridge & Livingston was commissioned to design a modern mansion to replace the outdated Victorian and by August 5, 1905 things were well under way.  The Real Estate Record and Builders’ Guide reported that “Marc Eidlitz & son…have just obtained the general contract to build the 5-sty stone residence…which Augustus D. Juilliard, 16 West 57^th st., will build at No. 11 West 57^th st., at an estimated cost of $70,000.”  The Auchincloss mansion had already been demolished and the Guide said “operations will be pushed rapidly.”

As construction continued, the couple remained across the street and in their lavish summer estate in Tuxedo Park, New York.  Among the last gatherings in the old house was a somber one.  The funeral of Helen’s young nephew, Frederick Henry Cossitt, was held in the house on July 12, 1906.  Cossitt was killed in the infamous train wreck in Salisbury, England. The Times reported “A large crowd gathered outside the house and looked on as the coffin, covered with orchids, was carried to the hearse.”

Helen soon erected an addition to the Young Men’s Christian Association on West 57^th Street in memory of Frederick.

Trowbridge & Livingston’s completed five-story mansion was masterful.  The French Renaissance façade was not overly-ornamented; relying on the broad oriel that rose floor-after-floor to a climax of finials, carved decoration and an arched pediment.  A steep mansard punctuated by two delightful pointy dormers and elaborate cresting completed the design.  Inside the 16^th century motif continued, heightened by the Juilliards’ extensive collection of vintage tapestries and antiques.

Visitors entered a marble-walled foyer, beyond which was the staircase hall.  photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWNA38W3&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

In July 1910 the Juilliards arrived in Europe and on August 7 were motoring from Geneva to Evian-les-Bains.  Their chauffeur, according to a Swiss reporter, was driving “at a rapid pace, when a girl on a bicycle appeared almost directly in front of them.”  The frightened girl lost control of her bicycle and zigzagged across the roadway.  In order not to hit her, the chauffeur “was compelled to swerve his machine sharply.”  The limousine landed in a ditch and both Augustus and Helen Juilliard were thrown out of the vehicle.  Augustus received a serious head wound.

The New York Times reported that “A passing automobile found the injured man lying by the roadside, his head supported by his wife.  The car was a wreck in the ditch.”

 

Compared to most over-decorated and crowded Edwardian interiors, the Juillard rooms were understated.  Huge tapestries cover the walls in this sitting room --   photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWNA38W3&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

Juilliard recovered and the accident did not discourage the couple from traveling.  The following summer they were back in Switzerland for the entire season.  Although warring in Egypt with what The Times called “its possible consequent inconveniences” had caused many wealthy Americans to forego trips to the Mediterranean; the idea of a European war was unthinkable.  Millionaire New Yorkers who were not idling their time away in Newport, Bar Harbour and other American summer resorts, were flocking to Paris, London, and Rome.

On October 28, 1911 the Juilliards boarded a luxury steamer back to New York.  Also on the passenger list was George Gould (he told a reporter that day “I do not take a very active interest in business myself.  My great hobby is traveling.”  The Goulds and the Juilliards steamed home on the RMS Lusitania—the civilian ship that would be torpedoed by the Germans in 1915.

In the dining room, too, tapestries are the chief decoration --   photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWNA38W3&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

Helen Cossitt Juilliard was more well-known for her philanthropy than her lavish entertaining.  Wealthy in her own right, for years she managed the Lincoln Hospital and Home and around 1895 gave the St. John’s Guild its first hospital boat, the Helen C. Juilliard.  Another hospital boat (with the same name) was launched in Wilmington, Delaware in 1915.  When her sister, Mrs. George E. Dodge, died in 1911 Helen paid for part of the new building of the New York Orthopedic Dispensary and Hospital on East 59^thStreet; and financed Colorado College’s “Frederick H. Cossitt Memorial” complex.  It contained a gymnasium, reading and club rooms, dining hall and stadium.

The upholstered furniture in the Library, with its built-in bookcases and stenciled beamed ceiling, give the room a homey feel --   photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWNA38W3&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

Helen’s health began failing in 1915 and on April 2, 1916 after a long illness she died in the house on West 57^th Street.  Of her $5 million estate, one-fifth went to Augustus, as well as the Tuxedo Park estate and the carriage house at No. 111 West 51^st Street.  The remainder went to relatives and to charitable and educational intuitions..After nearly 40 years of marriage, Augustus now lived on alone in the cavernous house surrounded by his staff. 

An antique Asian jardiniere serves as a cane stand in the entrance hall --   photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWNA38W3&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

Just three years later the 83-year old millionaire contracted pneumonia and died in the house on April 25, 1919.  Mourners at his funeral in St. Thomas Church five days later composed a virtual Who’s-Who of New York businessmen and tycoons.  The ten pallbears were among the city’s richest and most respected citizens:  Elihu Root, George F. Baker, Charles A. Peabody, W. Emlen Roosevelt, Edward J. Berwind, Adrian Iselin, Frederick de Peyster Foster, Frank K. Sturgis, Chester A. Braman, and Charles H. Sabin.  In the pews were businessmen like Rodman and John Wanamaker, J. Pierpont Morgan, Robert Fulton Cutting, Ogden Mills, Thomas F. Ryan and his wife, and Mr. and Mrs. Henry Seligman.

Now New York and, indeed, the entire country paused to discover what would become of Augustus D. Juilliard’s vast millions.  Two months later the will was filed for probate.  After a few provisions for relatives and charitable institutions, Juilliard had left the bulk of his estate--$15 million—to found a fund “for the advancement of music in the United States.”  It was the beginning of the Juilliard Foundation, created in 1920 and the Juilliard School of Music.

Despite the valiant attempts of the Vanderbilts and other millionaires, the once-exclusive Fifth Avenue neighborhood, by now, had been lost to commerce.  Before long the Juilliard mansion was converted for business on the ground floor and rooms upstairs leased as apartments.  The Dudensing Gallery was an early tenant at street level.  It provided exposure to young American painters.  Here in 1927 Peter Evergood had his first one-man show.

As the Nazi Party gained power in Germany, the former Juillard house became headquarters of the German Railroads Information Office.  The director was Ernst Schmitz.  Later, as the United States was pulled into World War II, an investigation by Washington’s Special Committee on Un-American Activities discovered that Schmitz’s office was less benign that it seemed.

The investigation revealed “Although this agency was ostensibly a business enterprise set up for the purpose of promoting rail travel in Germany, it was in fact primarily a Nazi propaganda outlet.”  Among the evidence seized was a letter from Schmitz dated November 30, 1939 which read:

Dear Dr. Zapp:  On Wednesday, December 6^th at 7 P. M. a number of people of the Intelligence Service of the Rome-Berlin Asix are meeting at my private apartment on the third floor of the house, 11 West 57^thStreet, for a very informal dinner.

I would be happy if you could join and I should be grateful if you could give me your answer by Monday afternoon, by telephoning by my office, using the number Wickersham 2-0224.

With kind Regards, Heil Hitler!

On June 16, 1941 the German Railroads Information Office was ordered to leave the United States.

The magnificent Juillard residence survived for another three decades.  For most of the time art galleries operated from its street level.  Then in 1974 it and several surrounding buildings were demolished to be replaced by George Bunshaft’s iconic Solow Building.  

The site of the Juilliard mansion is not occupied by the western portion of the sloping Solow Building.  photo by Alice Lum

The Lost Henry Phipps Mansion -- 5th Avenue and 87th Street

The newly-completed mansion in 1909 -- photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWTYUWVN&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

When he was a child in Pittsburgh, few would suspect that Henry Phipps would rise to become one of the richest and most powerful men in America.  The son of an immigrant shoe maker, Henry was reared in a gritty and deprived neighborhood.  His life would turn around when he partnered with Andrew Carnegie to found a steelworks at the time when bridges, railroads, and changing construction techniques demanded tons of steel.

As their fortunes grew, both Phipps and Carnegie donated generously to the poorer class from which they themselves came.  While Carnegie built free libraries so young men could access learning; Phipps erected and endowed a hospital for “consumptives” in Philadelphia; the largest facility for tuberculosis patients in the world.  He paid for an agricultural college in India where the poor “could be taught means to prevent the terrible famines that every few years devastate the land and claim thousands of victims by starvation,” said the San Francisco Call. 

And, despite Phipps's close friendship with his partner (he named his son Henry Carnegie Phipps), a moral disagreement between the men ended with an expensive compromise.  Carnegie’s libraries were closed on Sundays.  Phipps believed they should be opened—at least during certain hours.  So in 1890 he announced a gift of $20,000 to the Carnegie Library in Allegheny, Pennsylvania for the purchase of books “with the stipulation that the reading rooms be open from noon until 8 p.m.” on Sundays.

Both Carnegie and Phipps moved to New York City at the turn of the century and in 1901 the Carnegie Steel Company was purchased by J. P. Morgan for $480 million—approximately $13.6 billion today.  The New York Times later estimated Phipps’s share in the sale as $100 million.

In 1899 Andrew Carnegie commissioned Babb, Cook & Willard to design an immense neo-Georgian mansion across from Central Park and rather north of the homes of other millionaires.  His free-standing house would encompass the entire block from 90^th to 91^st Street, surrounded by lawns, gardens and a high decorative fence.

On January 9, 1901 The New York Times reported that Phipps had purchased “a large plot at the northeast corner of Fifth Avenue and Eighty-seventh Street, only three blocks distant from the site on which his business associate, Andrew Carnegie, is erecting a magnificent mansion.”  Phipps had paid Perry Belmont $500,000 for the plot.  But he was not done yet.

He simultaneously purchased the two adjoining building lots on Fifth Avenue from E. H. Van Ingen & Co. for $200,000.  He could now build on a site that measured 100 by 175 feet.

Ten days later the Deseret Evening News reported that “Mr. Phipps will at once begin construction of a mansion to cost $1,500,000.”  That amount would translate to about $40 million today, not including the cost of the land.

Phipps recognized that the area around his building site would draw Manhattan’s wealthiest citizens.  Already Perry Belmont had approved plans by Whitney Warren for his new mansion on Fifth Avenue at the corner of 92^nd Street; and William D. Sloane had recently purchased land from Carnegie on 91^st Street where he would build two mansions for his married daughters.  Five months later Phipps purchased six lots on the northeast corner of Fifth Avenue and 96^th Street as “an investment;” and the two old buildings at Nos. 7 and 9 East 87^thStreet.  The New York Times said he purchased those two properties “to protect his new residence on the adjoining Fifth Avenue corner.  There is little doubt that they will ultimately be replaced by modern dwellings of a design agreeable to Mr. Phipps, and the transaction, together with several others of similar character recently closed, are significant, as foreshadowing the fate of all flats and antique dwellings on lots along the border of the upper Fifth Avenue colony.”

Phipps chose the architectural firm of Trowbridge & Livingston to design the mansion.  Like Carnegie’s residence, it would take years to complete.  On February 12, 1905 The San Francisco Call said “his new home, now being built, on the corner of Fifth avenue and Eighty-seventh street, will be when finished one of the handsomest houses in America…It is in Italian renaissance style of architecture.”

Four stories tall, while successfully appearing to be three, the stately home sat far back from 87^th Street and was approached by a semi-circular carriage drive.  To the east a one-story wing called the “Orangerie” served as the conservatory.  Interestingly, Phipps imported English architect Alfred C. Bossom to design the interiors which may have been a surprising contrast to the formal Italian façade.  The San Francisco Call said “For the furnishing of this superb house the fittings and furniture of an Indian palace were bought outright by Mr. Phipps during a sojourn in India several years ago.”

On April 2, 1905 The New York Times published a sketch of the house, showing a wooden fence surrounding the property.  That would not last.  In 1909 the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide reported that Henry Phipps had hired architect P. J. Mack to design a “brick wall” at a cost of $100.  The stately enclosure would mimic the parapet and rooftop balustrade of the mansion.

One of Henry Phipps's Indian acquisitions sits in the staircase hall.  A stained glass skylight illuminates the stairwell.  photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWT8TJKI&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWT8TJKI&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=1

Earlier that year Phipps had spent $1 million to establish a fund for the construction of improved tenement houses for working class families.  The multimillionaire saw the conditions which the lower classes endured and set out to improve them.  “Mr. Phipps’ project, when pushed to the logical conclusion which he has in mind, has for its object the complete regeneration of the housing and sanitary conditions of fully three-fourths of the population living on Manhattan Island.  For notwithstanding the fact that the present intent of the movement being inaugurated by his gift is the alleviation of the miseries of the very poor in the abolishment of the dark warrens where they are forced to live under c conditions all but intolerable, the general effect of the bettering of such conditions must ultimately bring with it an improvement in the housing facilities of every family that lives in a flat or apartment house,” explained The San Francisco Call.

Phipps' interest in things Indian is reflected in the unique coffered ceiling --   photo by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWT8TJKI&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWT8TJKI&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=1

Phipps and his family eventually moved into the mansion that cost him, in total, around $2.5 million.  Almost immediately it was the scene of meetings and benefits for philanthropic causes.  On November 10, 1909 The Sun reported that the Tuberculosis Preventorium for Children was organized in a meeting held in house.  “The plan of the new institution is to take from the tenements children who have been infected with tuberculosis and restore them to normal health before it is too late,” said the newspaper.

The "Orangerie" sat at the eastern edge of the property.  Above it, a rooftop pergola offered evening respite from summer's stifling heat -- photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWTYUWVN&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

A year earlier Phipps gave $500,000 to start a psychiatric clinic at Johns Hopkins University to study mental diseases, and in 1909 gave $3 million to the University of Pennsylvania for tuberculosis research and treatment.

In the 19^th and early 20^th centuries it was common for real estate to  be put in the wife's name; thus ensuring financial stability in the case of the husband’s death.  It was surprising, therefore, that it was not until April 21, 1915 that the title to the mansion was transferred to Anne C. Phipps.  The Pittsburgh Press remarked that “Mrs. Henry Phipps is today the owner of the $2,000,000 residence at the corner of Fifth ave. and Eighty-seventh st.  The deed to the property is on file today and shows that Mrs. Phipps paid her husband the nominal consideration of $100 for the large corner plot, with its costly marble house.”  The newspaper added “The Phipps house is one of the show places of the finest part of the residential section of New York’s leading avenue.”

Henry Phipps, who wore his beard similarly to his friend and former partner Andrew Carnegie, and his wife Anna -- photo from the collection of the Library of Congress

Somewhat shockingly, that same year construction began on a 12-story apartment house abutting the Phipps property on 87^thStreet.  It signaled the beginning of a disturbing trend which would soon pick up steam.

On September 30, 1916 Phipps hired Philadelphia architect Horace Trumbauer to design the family’s country estate at Great Neck, Long Island.  Situated on 89 acres, it would sit directly opposite Deepdale, the estate of William K. Vanderbilt, Jr.

A double-decker bus passes the Fifth Avenue side by the Phipps mansion on a still-tranquil Fifth Avenue -- photo from the collection of the Library of Congress

The Phipps family had not lived in their marble mansion for a full decade when, on April 8, 1917, The New York Times reported that Daniel Guggenheim had purchased it.  The Philadelphia-born industrialist and his wife had just purchased Howard Gould’s sprawling country estate Castle Gould on Long Island Sound.

Aggressive and determined, Guggenheim enlarged his family’s mining and smelting holdings.  At the time of the purchase he and J. P. Morgan were pushing the neutral United States to enter World War I.  And after the country did enter what was termed The Great War, change continued in Guggenheim’s new neighborhood.

photograph by Wurts Bros. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWTYUWVN&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

On January 26, 1919 The New York Times reported on “the most surprising feature of the realty market last week” which was “that Fifth Avenue was to have another tall apartment house right in the heart of the choicest residential section north of Fifty-ninth Street.  To those who had hoped that this thoroughfare would not again be invaded by apartment house construction for some time to come, the fact that the site selected for immediate improvement was in the Astor mansion block and that the high building will overtop the home of the late Colonel John Jacob Astor, now owned by Vincent Astor, came with the suddenness of a shock.”

The newspaper remembered “It was only a few years ago that the conservative minded residents and owners on the avenue were somewhat dismayed when a bold owner put up a twelve-story house adjoining the marble residence of Henry Phipps…Apartment construction on upper Fifth Avenue would appear to be as ruthless as that of commercial buildings in former home centres prior to the enactment of the zoning law.”

Demolition workers remove the interiors of the Phipps Mansion in 1927 -- photograph by William J. Roege from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWT8TJKI&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWT8TJKI&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=1

“Ruthless” was a well-chosen adjective.  As the 1920s dawned developers scrambled to purchase and demolish the marble and granite palaces of Manhattan’s millionaires.  The lavish homes with their costly materials were built to last for over a century; but survived only a fraction of that time.  Less than two decades after the finishing touches were put on the Phipps mansion it was gone.  Construction on the new apartment house designed by J. E. R. Carpenter was begun in 1927 and finished a year later.



photo elliman.com

The 1902 Samuel Trowbridge House -- No. 123 East 70th Street

photo by Alice Lum

As construction began on the magnificent St. Regis Hotel on Fifth Avenue in 1901, its architect, Samuel Trowbridge, finished the designs for his own home at 123 East 70^th Street. 

Samuel Breck Parkman Trowbridge traced his impressive English lineage to the 16^th century Peter de Trowbridge.  Born in New York City, the architect had studied at Trinity College, Columbia University’s School of Architecture, the School of Classical Studies in Athens, and the Ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris.  By now he was a well-respected architect and partner in the firm Trowbridge & Livingston. 

Although attractive Victorian homes still lined the block along East 70^th Street between Park and Lexington Avenues, few of them would survive much longer.  Society was pushing the middle- and upper-middle classes further east, away from Central Park, and by the turn of the century and grand mansions were replacing the earlier structures.  One of them would be Trowbridge’s new home. 

The architect purchased the charming rowhouse erected by brothers J. M. and E. A. Thorp in 1863 and in its place erected an impressive brick and limestone Beaux Arts mansion—appropriate for the man who would become president of the Society of Beaux Arts Architects within two years.  The five-story home sat on a stone base with double entrance doors. 

The Trowbridge house replaced a Victorian rowhouse exactly like the one to the right -- photo NYPL Collection

Unlike the homes of a generation earlier, there was no high stoop; just three shallow steps from the sidewalk in keeping with the current vogue.  The combined second and third story window openings quietly smacked of Art Nouveau; a style that had raged in Paris for a decade already but one which never quite caught on in New York.   

Trowbridge used elaborately-carved limestone trims, like the scrolled brackets and cartouche beneath the fourth floor balcony, with careful reserve; controlling the Beaux Arts embellishments to achieve vivid contrast between the brick and stone while maintaining dignity of design. 

Samuel Trowbridge and his wife, Sophia Pennington Tailer Trowbridge, were highly visible in society and the architect was a member of several elite clubs, including the Century, Metropolitan, Racquet and Tennis, Union, St. Anthony, and Ardsley Clubs.    In 1903, a year after the new house was completed, he was involved in a murder case resulting from a shooting near the Ardsley Club. 

On the night of May 24, shots rang out and club members rushed onto the street to find John Hefferman dying of pistol wounds.  The men, including Trowbridge, took charge of the scene, questioning Hefferman about his attacker and retrieving brandy and a mattress from the club.  Trowbridge assisted in carrying the dying man to the station house. 

In the inquest that followed on the following Friday, “a goodly number of millionaire members of the Ardsley Club appeared,” said The New York Times.   The tangled case pitted Hefferman’s household staff against moneyed friends of the dead millionaire as accusations flew across the courtroom. 

While other witnesses testified to Hefferman naming his assailant; Trowbridge said that he was with the deceased “from the minute when he was put on a shutter until he left in the club wagon,” and “did not hear him make any statement of any kind, except to ask for water and speak of his sufferings.” 

The Trowbridges' lives were normally less dramatic. 

Sophia was highly involved in social and charity events.  Preferring to list herself as “Mrs. Breck P. Trowbridge,” she was treasurer of The Three Arts Club that provided housing and a social club for young women studying music, drama and the fine arts.  The “handsome clubhouse” accommodated 87 resident members and included a money-making restaurant. 

The indefatigable architect joined the National Guard of New York in 1903, attaining rank of First Lieutenant.  He was named Chairman of the National Council of Fine Arts in 1908; Vice President of the American Academy in Rome; President of the Architectural League of New York; and President of the Society of American Philhellenes.  As the years passed he garnered foreign distinctions including being named Chevelier de la Legion d’ Honor by the President of France; Grand Commander of St. Sava, Serbia;  and receiving the Greek Order of the Redeemer; and Commander of the Order of the Crown, Romania. 

On January 24, 1925 Trowbridge suffered a cold.  Five days later he died in the house on East 70^th Street of pneumonia.  

Sophia Trowbridge remained on at No. 123 East 70^th Street until her death.  In August of 1951 her estate sold the house to Allan Roos.  As was the fate of many of the grand residences of Manhattan in the middle of the last century, within four years it was renovated to include a doctor’s office on the first floor and two luxurious duplex apartments on the second-to-third and fourth-to-fifth floors. 

Apartments on this block, of course, did not mean low-income tenants.   One of the original tenants in 1954 included the Charles Einfeld family.  Einfeld was Vice President of the 20^th Century Fox Film Corporation. 

The wedding of the Einfield’s daughter, Lise, was held in the house on June 12 that year.  Lise was a Smith College graduate who married Richard Malkin.  The groom had attended both Harvard and Yale.   

Three years later Lise’s sister Linda was married in the house as well.   Linda had studied at the Collegio Columbo in Viareggio, Italy, and was currently attending Vassar.  Like her sister’s husband, her fiancé was a graduate of both Yale and Harvard. 

In the meantime, The Heckscher Foundation for Children was evolving.  The institution was founded in 1921 by August Heckscher, Arthur Smadbeck and Ruth Smadbeck to help needy children by supporting charitable organizations and programs. 

In 2007 the much-expanded foundation renovated No. 123 East 70^th as its headquarters and offices.  From here the organization, with assets of over $300 million, provides grants and distributions to educational programs and organizations aimed at preparing students for success.

Outwardly, Samuel Trowbridge’s meticulously-maintained townhouse is virtually unchanged.  It is a highly-unusual and dignified residence, designed by one of New York’s most esteemed architects.

The 1909 John B. Trevor Mansion -- No. 11 East 91st Street

On June 25, 1908, John Bond Trevor married Caroline M. Wilmerding in the home of her parents at No. 18 East 77^th Street.  The social status of the young couple was evident by those in attendance—Robert Walton Goelet served as best man, and assembled in the parlors were socially elite names like Mr. and Mrs. Orme Wilson, Mr. and Mrs. Franklin D. Roosevelt, the R. Fulton Cuttings, the Frelinghuysens, and Mr. and Mrs. Harrison McKay Twombly.

After returning from their honeymoon the newlyweds moved into the Trevor family home where Trevor’s mother and sister still lived.  But it was to be a short-lived arrangement.  John Trevor immediately began looking for a site for a new house for his bride and he found it on what was being called Carnegie Hill.

Andrew Carnegie’s massive mansion spanning the Fifth Avenue block front at 91^st Street had been completed in 1903.  The steel magnate prudently protected his property by buying the surrounding land as well.  With his own home completed, he now carefully chose his neighbors.

John Trevor purchased the 26-foot wide building plot at No. 11 East 91^st Street in February, 1909.  On May 22 he took the title to plot, spurring The New-York Tribune to report “John B. Trevor is going to be a neighbor of Andrew Carnegie…The façade of the proposed house will be diagonally opposite the main entrance to the house of Mr. Carnegie.”

The Trevors would be neighbors with Manhattan’s upper crust.  Next door, at No. 9, was the grand Renaissance palace of John Henry Hammond and his wife, the former Emily Vanderbilt Sloane; completed the same year as the Carnegie house.   The Hammond’s house abutted No. 7, the mansion of James A. Burden, Jr. and his wife, Florence Adele Sloans, Emily’s sister.  Their house had been finished in 1905.

Now John Trevor had to hold his own among the gargantuan mansions along the Carnegie block.  Two months later plans were well underway.  The New York Times reported on July 18 that “John B. Trevor is planning to erect a $100,000 residence.”  That figure would amount to about $2 million today.

Trevor had chosen his architectural firm, Trowbridge & Livingston, and on September 15, 1909 they filed their plans.  The Times offered little hint as to the outward appearance other than “It will be of brick and limestone ad will occupy a frontage of 26 feet.”

Construction took two years to complete.  Trowbridge & Livingston had wisely chosen not to compete for attention with the massive mansions of the Carnegies, Hammonds and Burdens.  The Trevor house, which was a fraction of the width of the other homes, instead showed quiet restraint.   Trowbridge & Livingston chose a toned-down version of the French Beaux-Arts Classicism style for the house.

The newly-completed house snuggles up to the massive Hammond mansion next door.  The vacant lot on the opposite side testifies to the still-developing neighborhood. -- photo by Wurts Bros, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/Collection/11-East-91st-Street.-Trevor-Residence.-2F3XC581N_X.html

The mansion was marked by a nearly-stark absence of ornamentation.   The Times deemed it a “handsome dwelling,” and opined “With the Carnegie, Hammond, Sloane and Townsend Burden residences they form a nucleus for a high-grade colony of fine houses.”

Three stories of planar limestone sat upon a rusticated base where the double entrance doors nestled below a prim cornice on two scrolled brackets.  The welcoming, shallow entrance stairs gently radiated out to the sidewalk.  Three sets of arched French windows at the second floor created the main focus of the design.  Above it all, the fifth floor in the mansard sat beyond the bracketed cornice.

The Harvard- and Columbia-educated Trevor had already established himself as a successful lawyer.  The couple would have two sons in the house—John B., Jr. and Bronson.  Summers were spent at their country estate, Glenview, on the Hudson River.

Trevor's professional influence spread beyond New York City.  In 1919 he was appointed Deputy Attorney General of the State of New York; a time when anarchists and other radical groups were responsible for bombings and related terrorism.  He worked with the Lusk committee investigating “subversive activities in the state,” as described by the Yonkers newspaper the Herald Statesman.

Trevor’s abilities were tapped by the United States military, as well, and following the end of World War I he was made Captain in the U.S. Army, working in military intelligence.    In 1920 he was associate counsel for the Sub-Committee of the U.S. Senate on Foreign Relations. 

The ardently-patriotic lawyer worked doggedly at uncovering Bolshevist terrorists in New York.  Because many in that group were Jewish, he was repeatedly accused of being anti-Semitic.  The misinformed rumors persisted through his life and would result in accusations of his being pro-Nazi.

In 1923 John and Caroline sold their sprawling country estate to the city of Yonkers.  It became the largest park in that city, Trevor Park, and the old stone house was converted to an historical museum.  A year later, Trevor’s intense interest in the “immigration question” came to the forefront when he was influential in the adoption of the first immigration quota law.  He helped to draft the National Origin Quota System.  Three years later he founded a citizens committee to support and defend the system, known as the American Coalition of Patriotic Societies.

As the decades passed, Trevor’s focus turned to the Soviet threat.  As associate counsel of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee to investigate Russian propaganda, he unmasked a soviet agent who was functioning as an Ambassador and had him deported.

The highly influential lawyer died in the house on East 91^stStreet on February 21, 1956 at the age of 77.  Caroline would live on in the mansion for another two decades, dying on October 14, 1975 at the age of 94.

In an ironic twist, the Trevor mansion was purchased by the Soviet Government in 1978 as housing for its consulate staff.  Only a year later President Jimmy Carter froze the consulate program after the Soviets intervened in Afghanistan.  Along with the Hammond mansion next door, now the Soviet Consulate, John and Caroline Trevor’s handsome home was shuttered and dark for over two decades.

The Trevor mansion (right) sat among the most magnificent homes in the City.

Today the Trevor mansion is part of the Consulate General of the Russian Federation in New York.  Other than dark green awnings installed at street level, matching those on the Hammond house, the restrained and elegant residence is unchanged since its was the newest of the "high-grade colony of fine houses."

contemporary photographs taken by the author