The Lost Irving T. Bush Mansion -- No. 28 East 64th Street

Like an Elizabethan sore thumb, the new house starkly stood out between its Queen Anne neighbors -- 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=24UAYWNO1JL7&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915

In 1881 developer and architect Theodore Weston began construction of four harmonious Queen Anne style residences stretching along East 64^th Street from the southwest corner of Madison Avenue towards Central Park.  The brick-and-brownstone mansions burst forth with the balconies, quirky dormers and turrets expected of the visually-entertaining style.

No. 28 had at least two owners before the turn of the century.  The Williams family was here in the 1880s and that of George Henry Warren was in the house in the 1890s.  The architectural harmony of Weston’s string of homes was about to come to an end when, on October 24, 1900, The New York Times reported that G. H. Warren had sold “to a Mr. Bush the four-story dwelling 28 East Sixty-fourth Street.”

The following day the mysterious Mr. Bush was identified as “Mr. G. A. Bush, who will occupy [the house] with his family."  In fact, both facts were wrong.  The buyer was Irving T. Bush and if he had any intentions at all of living in the Queen Anne mansion, they would be short-lived.

Irving T. Bush -- photograph Library of Congress

The 31-year old businessman was the son of wealthy industrialist and oil refinery owner Rufus T. Bush.  Like his father, Bush was an avid yachtsman and the two had circumnavigated the globe in 1888.  When Rufus Bush died two years later, leaving his wife and two sons an estate of about $2 million, Irving could have lived off his inheritance.  Instead, the 21-year old went to work for Standard Oil as a clerk.

The large bank account did not hurt, however.  In the mid-1890s Bush envisioned a gigantic warehouse, manufacturing and shipping complex on the site of his father’s Brooklyn oil refinery.  He constructed the Bush Terminal—the first industrial complex of its kind in New York and the largest multiple-tenant industrial park in the country.  It was his first personal business success.

The title to the 64^th Street property was not transferred until August 1901.  Bush put the mansion in his wife, Bella’s name, as was customary.  At the time of the transfer the New-York Tribune made note of the exclusive neighborhood.  In the corner mansion next door to the new Bush house, at No. 30, lived Seth Low, one of the city’s most recognized educators and politicians, and among its wealthiest.

If the Bush family lived in No. 28 at all, they had packed up by Christmas 1904 and were living at their Lakewood, New Jersey estate.  On December 24 that year the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide announced that the architectural firm of Kirby, Petit & Green was at work on plans for a 6-story dwelling costing $60,000 (about $1.5 million today).  The Guidehinted at the appearance, describing “a brick and terra cotta front, metal and glass skylights, tin roof, elevator, terra cotta cornices and coping, steam heat, electric light, etc.”  The out-of-date Queen Anne mansion was demolished and in its place rose an Edwardian dream home. 

Victorian houses obsessed with the damaging effects of sunlight on expensive textiles and artwork.  Interior shutters, window blinds and heavy velvet hangings shut out the direct rays of the sun, creating what must have been dusk-like interiors.  By now, however, doctors stressed fresh air and sunlight as the two major components of a healthful environment and the trend carried over into residential architecture.  The new Bush mansion was as much glass as it was masonry.

The architects drew heavily on Elizabethan country house designs, lining the brick façade with limestone quoins and clustering windows.  The deeply recessed entranceway sat behind four large stone columns on a porch just above the sidewalk.  Inside there were seven bedrooms and baths (three fewer than the number of servants bedrooms), a conservatory that extended to the rear, a 24 by 22 foot library, and an elevator.

The house was put on the market in 1908 (New-York Tribune, October 28, 1908 copyright expired)

For some unknown reason the mansion was put on the market in 1908 with the architects as brokers.  A sale never materialized, however, and the Bush family stayed on.  Irving and Bella maintained the expected routine of wealthy New Yorkers and in February 1915 newspapers noted they were spending the winter season in Pinehurst, North Carolina.  A month earlier they had announced the engagement of Bella’s daughter, Rose Howard Bush, to Arthur Tucker Ellsworth.  Rose had taken the Bush name when her widowed mother married Irving.

By now Europe was embroiled in world war and New York debutantes were volunteering for war relief work.  Rose’s sister, Maud, worked with the Red Cross and related causes as the United States was pulled into the conflict.  And like many other society girls doing such work, she fell in love with a dashing (and wealthy) military man.  On December 26, 1919 Irving and Bella announced Maud’s engagement to Ensign Arthur Lincoln McElroy. 

Irving T. Bush retained ownership of the house on East 64^thStreet; but he and Bella moved on.  By early 1921 he had converted the mansion to apartments with a gallery space at street level.  On March 20 that year the New-York Tribune reported “There is a new gallery to be added to the already long list in the city, the Mesnard gallery, at 28 East Sixty-fourth Street.  It makes a creditable start, with American paintings among which good examples of Emil Carlsen, Childe Hassam and the late William M. Chase are conspicuous.” 

Irving Bush sold the house in 1927 to Roland Moore who intended to move his Chinese antiques business into the mansion.  But after owning the property for a year, he decided to remain at his East 57^th Street location.  When he sold No. 28 to Halsey & Flint in September 1928, the new owners already controlled the adjoining property at the corner of Madison Avenue.

The end of the line for the Irving T. Bush house was on the horizon.  In 1932 construction began on architect Morrell Smith’s neo-Georgian Bank of the Manhattan Company building, which survives today.  The last slice of Theodore Weston’s 1882 Queen Anne row remains at No. 26—Bush’s former next door neighbor—sadly altered and out of context.

A handsome bank structure replaces both  the Bush mansion and the corner house.  No. 26, the last slice of Theodore Weston's row still stands.  (photo by the author)

The Amelia Bingham House -- No. 103 Riverside Drive

photo by trulia.com

As the 19th century came to a close, developers were busy building luxurious row houses along the new Riverside Drive. The breathtaking views of the Hudson River and the palisades on the opposite shore made the site spectacular. Yet the wealthy New Yorkers who settled here would not be among the inner circle of society.

Decades later the Works Progress Administration’s “New York City Guide” would say “Riverside Drive, like Wall Street, is a national symbol of wealth, but unlike Wall Street it has never quite deserved its reputation. From the 1890’s until after the World War, to be sure, it was popular with the newly rich, whose ornate gray and brownstone battlemented houses bore witness to economic success; yet, lacking an old-family tradition, it never rivaled streets like Fifth Avenue in the esteem of fashionable society.”

Among those gray and brownstone houses were six quaint residences designed and built by Clarence F. True between 1898 and 1899 between 83rd and 84th Streets with financial help from famous actor Joseph Jefferson. True developed much of Riverside Drive on a speculative basis and his Elizabethan Revival style became his hallmark. While the design of each of the houses was individual, they flowed cohesively, creating a charming row. True received permission from the Commissioner of Buildings in 1898 to build over the property lines; resulting in an undulation of bowed fronts and projecting porches.

In the midst of the row was No. 103, an L-shaped five-story mansion with a steep tile roof, side courtyard (a rare luxury in the city), and a deep bowfront.

part of the row before losing their bowfronts and porches -- photo NYPL Collection

On April 23, 1902 Joseph Jefferson purchased the house for $40,000 in foreclosure actions against True. Jefferson, who is widely credited with first saying “There are no small parts, only small actors,” is also remembered in the nicknaming of The Church of the Transfiguration as “The Little Church Around the Corner.”  In 1870 when Jefferson tried to arrange the funeral for his actor friend George Holland at, presumably, Marble Collegiate Church he was rebuffed because of the deceased’s profession. Being told that there was a little church around the corner “where they do that sort of thing,” Jefferson replied “God bless the little church around the corner.”

Actor Joseph Jefferson in 1903 while he owned No. 103

The actor sold the house in 1906 to financier Elbridge Gerry Snow, Jr. and his wife Maud. Snow doubtlessly regretted the purchase when Charlotte Y. Ackerman, who owned the lot just south of the row, won a court case in which she argued that the projecting bowfronts and porches encroached on the public street and lowered her property value.

The courts ruled that the owners had to remove the fronts of their homes. Snow commissioned architects Clinton & Russell to design a new façade, using the materials from the demolished original. Completed in 1911, the new front was a flat ironspot brick wall with limestone trim. The architects retained the original flavor of True’s design by including the arched, recessed entranceway, the original second story windows and the arched fourth-story windows and keystones. The cornice was nearly identical and the peaked red tile roof was salvaged.

No. 103 (with awnings) after the 1911 renovation flattened its front -- photo NYPL Collection

A ground-floor arched service entrance was installed where the courtyard wall had been.

Shortly after the renovations were completed, the title was transferred to actress Amelia Bingham. The feisty and colorful Bingham was a favorite on the New York stage and she set about sprucing up the outside of the mansion. On two small balconies above the first floor (now gone) she perched three heroic-sized statues and two large busts – the one directly over the entrance being of Shakespeare. The redecoration prompted The New York Times to call it “one of the really unique residences in the city,” and it became a sightseeing attraction – popularly called “the house with the statues.”

In 1916 the New York Central Railway proposed laying tracks below Riverside Drive along the Hudson. Amelia Bingham was enraged. She hosted a meeting of the Woman’s League for the protection of Riverside Park in the house.

The actress was firm. “We must turn to these splendid men –oh, let’s say they’re splendid, anyway—and tell them to have mercy on our happiness…But if they persist I shall sell my home for what I can get and move where I won’t have to listen to steam shovels for ten years, for, I tell you, there are lots of us who can’t wait the generation it will take the trees to grow again in our beautiful front yard.”

At another meeting Bingham pled, “For all these years I have loved to sit in my front window and get drunk with the beauty of Riverside Park. I have lived on the Thames, on the Seine, on the Rhine, and always come home to get drunk again on the glory of Riverside Park.”

The colorful stage actress Amelia Bingham -- photo NYPL Collection

A year later Bingham was in danger of losing her view not because of the New York Central Railway but because her home was in foreclosure. The actress had failed to pay a second mortgage of $25,000 and, when the actress was ordered to vacate the property or pay rent of $250 per month, she refused to do either.

The crisis passed but in 1925 more drama visited Amelia Bingham in her Riverside Drive home. Two young robbers gained entrance and forced the maid at gunpoint to lead them upstairs. There Bingham, her seamstress and her maid were bound with silk stockings while the robbers ransacked her bedroom, making off with $1,500 of jewelry and valuables.

In the meantime, the quick-witted Amelia sat on a bag containing $20,000 in cash and valuables and chatted casually with the thieves to distract them. It was “just like the stage,” she explained later when questioned on her cool-headedness.

The remarkable actress died in the house on September 1, 1927 and the following year her sisters sold it.  Dr. John A. Harriss, the Special Deputy Police Commissioner in charge of traffic moved in. An authority on street traffic problems, he invented the traffic signal light system and came up with the innovative idea of one-way streets. Dr. Harris died of a heart attack in the house in October 1938.

In 1942 the storied house, which now boasted a self-service elevator, was sold for $14,000 cash – the amount of the outstanding mortgage. The house at the time was assessed at $32,000, $27,000 of which was land value.

No. 103 Riverside Drive managed to escape being divided into apartments, although its interiors have been highly altered. In November 1997 the house was purchased for $13.475 million by financier Richard Schneider and his wife Tami.

Original interior details -- fireplace, wainscoting, paneled stairhall and archway treatments -- survive.  photo by trulia.com

In 2010 the amazing and unique home with a colorful past was put on the market for $21.5 million before being taken off again a few months later.

The 1897 Carroll Mansion -- No. 86 Riverside Drive

photo by Alice Lum

Clarence True worked in the office of esteemed architect Richard M. Upjohn until 1884 when he struck out on his own.  A few years later, around 1890, real estate developer Charles G. Judson hired True.  The two men had offices in the same building.

At the time the Upper West Side was emerging as Manhattan newest residential frontier as rows of eccentric townhouses sprouted on the streets and hefty mansions appeared on the avenues.  Clarence True threw himself headlong into the frenzy and by the turn of the century would be among the most prolific architects of the Upper West Side.

As the turn of the century approached, Riverside Drive rivaled Fifth and Madison Avenues with its spectacular mansions.  In 1897 Clarence True initiated his own project—acting as both speculator and architect for six lavish residences that wrapped the corner of 81^st Street and Riverside Drive.

True often drew on historical styles for his charismatic works and for this group he turned to Elizabethan Renaissance Revival.  Serving as the focal point for the six homes was the hulking No. 86 Riverside Drive at the corner.  The imposing structure rose five stories and stretched 50 feet along the Drive. 

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=24UAYW5FLRBT&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&XXXFEP=1

High pointed gables marked both elevations of the rough-cut granite façade.  Romantic stone balconies harkened to chivalrous times.  A deep, arched portico sheltered arriving guests and provided another balcony at the second story.  Commanding attention was the hefty round pavilion at the corner, surmounted by a stone parapet.  A thin two-story chimney rose above the surrounding rooftops.

Inside True carried out the Elizabethan motif with period-inspired plastered ceilings and intricately-carved woodwork.

Intricate woodwork and ceilings reflected the historical style -- 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=24UAYW5FLRBT&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&XXXFEP=1

The houses were completed in 1898 and in 1899 No. 86 Riverside Drive was purchased by William Carroll, the principal in William Carroll & Co., manufacturers of fur, wool and straw hats.  Carroll’s family consisted of his wife, Grace, daughter Elsa and son Ralph.  Ralph C. Carroll was enrolled in the private Cutler School at No. 49 East 61^st Street where he was the captain of the golf team.

True's Elizabeth motif was especially evident in the portico and second floor window framing -- photo by Alice Lum

Two years later, on January 2, the house was the scene of the wedding reception of Elsa and her new husband, Henry Rowland.  The New York Times described the house as being “decorated with pink roses and foliage” and said “The young couple received in a bower of pink roses, with garlands of the same flowers overhead.”  Among the moneyed guests that afternoon were J. C. Havemeyer, Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Auchincloss and Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Barnes.

The newlyweds moved into the Riverside Drive mansion and the Social Register would list them living here with the family at least until 1914.

Following William Carroll’s death on November 2, 1910, Grace continued living at No. 86 Riverside Drive with her daughter and son-in-law until 1922.   On August 30 of that year, she sold it for $125,000 (about $1.6 million today) to “a New York merchant.”  In reporting the sale The New York Timescalled the residence “one of the most modern houses on the west side.”

photo by Alice Lum

The “New York merchant” was William H. Barnard, the Treasurer of the International Salt Company, President of the Aiken Investment Company, a director in the Avery Rock Sale Company and an officer in many others.  The Times referred to Barnard as a “pioneer and leader in the American salt industry.”

Barnard and his wife, the former Lillie Cohu, moved into the Riverside Drive mansion.  Their only child, 24-year old daughter Lilybel, who had married James W. Salisbury in 1913, lived in Bristol, Rhode Island.  Five years after moving in, following an illness of several weeks, Lillie Barnard died in the house on February 10, 1927.

By the mid 1920s apartment buildings had already crept into the area.  The Barnards were living in no. 86 (right) -- photograph from the collection of the New York Public Library

William Barnard would live alone here only a few months before Lilybel moved in.  Her unhappy marriage had come to a highly-publicized end when she obtained a Reno divorce in August 1927.  She explained her forlorn condition to the court, saying she was interested in art, literature and outdoor sports; but her husband had no such interests.  A Nevada newspaper reported “he criticized her every comment, she told the Court.”

The newspaper added “Salisbury objected to her friends, she said and when she had arranged a dinner party at their home at Bristol, R. I., in August, 1926, he demanded that she cancel it at the last minute, and when she refused, charged her with being interested in one of the invited guests, her complaint says.”

Actually, it seems quite possible that Lilybel was interested in someone other than her husband; for five months after her divorce was granted, so was the divorce of Andrew Weeks Anthony a Boston manufacturer.  A few days later, on January 19, 1928 Anthony obtained a marriage license in Boston.  The New York Times sub-headline blared “Boston Manufacturer, Divorced on Wednesday, to Wed Mrs. Lilybel B. Salisbury.  She is Reno Divorcee.”

The vaguely scandalous wedding took place in St. Paul’s Methodist Episcopal Church on West End Avenue at 86^th Street at noon on January 22, 1928 with William Barnard escorting his 35-year old daughter down the aisle.  Afterward the understated reception was held in the Riverside Drive mansion.

In describing the wedding, The New York Times could not help commenting with “Both Mr. Anthony and his bride have been married previously and have been divorced.”

Years after the house was converted for institutional use some architectural details survived. -- 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=24UAYW5FLRBT&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&XXXFEP=1

On October 15, 1929 William H. Barnard died in the house at No. 86 Riverside Drive.  The Great Depression coupled with changing attitudes concerning hulking private homes meant the end of the road for many of Manhattan’s great mansions.  Blocks of properties were razed to make way for luxurious Art Deco apartment houses; while other homes were converted to apartments or commercial structures.

The house at No. 86 Riverside Drive, however, would hold on for a few more years.  It became home to Kathryn E. Henessey until 1940 when she leased it a political organization with the ungainly name of the 7^th Assembly District Regular Republican Organization Club, Inc.  The mansion was used as the group’s clubhouse and headquarters until 1945.

That year it was sold to the Chinese Delegation for International Cooperation and Cultural Relations, along with the house next door at No. 85.  The Times said the group intended “to remodel the buildings for its own use.”  The Delegation moved in along with related organizations; among them the International League for the Rights of Man, the Woochefee Institute which staged exhibitions of contemporary Asian artists, and the Rochdale Institute and the Institute of International Cooperation School.  The two institutes held classes for the “training of cooperative educators and executives.”

Grace Carroll's elaborate interiors were stripped for in-ceiling lighting and modern wall sconces -- 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=24UAYW5FLRBT&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&XXXFEP=1

Only four years later, on February 10, 1949 The Timesreported that “The twenty-room residence at 86 Riverside Drive, formerly the home of Katherine E. Henessey and now owned by the Woochefee Institute of New York, has been leased to the Royal Consulate of Iraq for its quarters here.”

When the Consulate of Iraq left, the building once again filled with Asian-related organizations:  The Sino-American Amity Fund, the Free Pacific Association and the East Asian Research Institute.  Then, later, in the 1980s and ‘90s it was home to the National Catholic Press.

Today the Carroll mansion has been dissected into apartments.  The castle-like building that the AIA Guide to New York City calls a “dour and forbidding essay in rock-face granite” still demands attention at the corner of 81^stStreet and Riverside Drive.

 

photo by Alice Lum