The Quaint 1902 Bowdoin Stables -- 149 East 38th Street

In 1902 John W. Smyth sold the four-story house at 149 E. 38th Street to real estate developer and clothing executive William R. H. Martin. In announcing the sale, The New York Times mentioned that “The buyer will erect a private stable on the lot.”

And indeed he did.

In New York City at the turn of the century, it was not merely one’s good name that reflected his position. The social elite strove to outdo one another in the finest homes, the best entertainments, and even in the appearance of their carriage houses. Utilitarian structures like private stables made their own statements regarding the social status of their owners--resulting in mini chateaux and Renaissance palaces for horses.

Ralph Samuel Townsend received the commission for the proposed stable. The architect, who was best known for his apartment buildings and hotels, gave a whimsical nod to New York’s roots by designing a Flemish Revival brick structure with a stepped gable; each step supporting a swirling stone console bracket. Stone detailing stood out starkly from the brick façade. Townsend added two full-relief wreathed horses’ heads above the first floor cornice and a large sculpted bulldog’s head high above the street.

An ornate carved stone frame surrounded an oval window directly below the dog’s head, and behind the gable rose a tiled mansard roof.

Financier George S. Bowdoin, who lived nearby on Park Avenue near 36th Street, purchased the building in 1907 at a time when little-by-little motorcars were replacing horse-drawn vehicles. Bowdoin’s horses lived on the first floor while his coachmen lived upstairs. The banker’s elegant carriages lined up along one side.

A carved cherub peeks over the street number while above a stone cartouche announces the date of construction

Edith Bowdoin inherited the property when her father died in 1913. By now, however, it would seem that it was no longer being used as a carriage house. The 1909 Directory of the Breeders and Exhibitors of Dogs in the United States and Canada listed W. Cox as running his fox terrier breeding business from here.

In 1918 Edith Bowdoin had the horse paddocks removed and converted the lower portion of the building into a garage. After her death the property was sold to George Nichols who stored his four private vehicles in the garage portion while renting out the single family residence above.

In 1939 the building was tightly shuttered -- even the decorative oval window -- photo City University of New York

The unique, ornate building lived a hum-drum existence through most of the 20th century until it was gutted around 1984. The new owner, who paid $2 million for the structure, installed multiple skylights and created soaring spaces – some 20 feet high.  But after the renovation and just before he could move in, he married and moved to California. The 6,000 square foot residence with its sleek spiral staircase and open spaces was rented to Jane Nichols Page, the granddaughter of John Pierpont Morgan, Jr.

Then in 1997 Donald and Ruth Saff purchased the property for about $3.4 million. Where horses once munched hay the Saffs now hung artwork by Lichtenstein, Raschenberg and Nancy Graves.

The Saffs used No. 149 as their personal gallery/home/office until 2002 when it became The Gabarron Foundation’s Carriage House Center for the Arts. The non-profit association was founded that same year to promote “the cultural wealth and identify of both Spain and America,” and hosted exhibitions and lectures from the space.

The first floor where Bowdoin's horses once were stabled -- photo streeteasy.com

When the Carriage House Center for the Arts moved out in May 2011, the astounding building was on the market again, this time for $14 million.

photo streeteasy.com

Townsend’s flamboyant Dutch Renaissance carriage house, landmarked on June 17, 1997, is today a unique single-family home.

non-credited photographs taken by the author

The Charles Isham House -- No. 122 East 38th Street

The houses were purposeful near-matches.  No. 122 is to the right.  photo by Alice Lum

At the turn of the last century William R. H. Martin headed one of the most recognized men’s clothing shops in Manhattan:  Rogers, Peet  & Co.  With his substantial fortune he invested heavily in real estate.  In 1900 he opened a high-end residential hotel near Times Square, named it after himself, and moved in.

While the frothy French Renaissance Martinique Hotel, designed by Henry Janeway Hardenbergh, was rising, a more subdued style was gaining popularity.   Neo-Federal and Georgian mansions along upper Fifth Avenue were being designed in red brick with limestone trim, a dignified nod to the country’s colonial roots.  Martin took notice.

In 1902 he purchased and demolished two Victorian brownstone houses at Nos. 122 and 124 East 38^th Street in the fashionable Murray Hill section.  Martin hired architect Ralph S. Townsend to design a pair of harmonious residences.

The surviving rowhouses at Nos. 116 through 120 are similar to those Martin replaced -- photo by Alice Lum

Completed in 1904 the near-mirror image homes worked as a dignified unit.  Three stories tall above an English basement, they recalled Colonial designs with splayed lintels, intricate entrances with pediments, and paneled lintels at the third floor.

The entry hall of No. 124 next door displays the detailing that would have been similar in the Isham House -- photo courtesy Jeffery Povero, Povero & Company

On October 11, 1906 The New York Times casually mentioned that “W. R. H. Martin has sold 122 East Thirty-eighth Street.”  What the newspaper did not report was that the buyer was the wealthy attorney Charles Isham and his wife Mary Lincoln Isham.

Isham had studied at Andover, Harvard and the University of Berlin.  Upon graduating he took the position of secretary to Todd Lincoln, the son of Abraham Lincoln.  In the spring of 1889 Isham met daughter Mary while crossing the Atlantic on the City of Paris with the Lincoln family.  Todd Lincoln was headed to London to take the position of Minister to the Court of St. James.  Although at 36-years old Isham was sixteen years older than the young woman everyone called Mamie, a romance ensued.

The couple was married on Wednesday, September 2, 1891 in London and, following their honeymoon, established their home in New York.  By the time they moved into No. 122 East 38^thStreet Isham had effectively retired.  He was an eminent historian and served as head librarian for the New York Historical Society, secretary of the Sons of the Revolution and president of the St. Nicholas Society.

A graceful staircase winds upward toward a leaded skylight in No. 124 -- photo courtesy Jeffery Povero, Povero & Company

Mary Isham kept herself busy as the editor of The Executive Daily, a Methodist periodical.  The Christian Advocate praised her work in 1912 saying “’The Executive Daily,’ edited by Mrs. Mary Isham with an efficient corps of assistants, came promptly to hand each morning, and for correct, sparkling, satisfactory reports of convention proceedings, merits warm thanks and praise.”

In 1913 Charles contracted architects Walker & Gillette to add a fourth story for servants’ rooms.  The resulting addition seamlessly carried on the Townsend design.

Walker & Gillette's fourth floor addition was seamless -- photo by Alice Lum

On February 11, 1917 The Sun commented on the ties of the Isham residence to Abraham Lincoln.  “Both Mr. and Mrs. Isham are deeply interested in the Lincoln traditions and have many interesting and valuable relics of the life of the Emancipator.  Robert T. Lincoln occasionally comes to this city to visit them, and in the summer they join him at their country home in Vermont.”

The 66-year old Charles Isham died in the house on Monday, June 9, 1919 after a short illness.  The funeral was held here two days later.   Mary lived on in the house, and throughout the years would sometimes represent the Lincoln family at historical or political events.

Such was the case in May 1923 when seven busts, including that of Abraham Lincoln, were unveiled at New York University’s new Hall of Fame.    The New York Times listed the descendants of Alexander Hamilton, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry Ward Beecher, Ulysses S. Grant and others who would unveil each bust.   The sculpture of Lincoln, said The Times, “will be unveiled by the Emancipator’s granddaughter, Mrs. Mary Lincoln Isham.”

In 1935 Mary Isham left the house on 38^th Street to move to Washington D. C. where her 89-year old mother lived.   The dignified residence became a boarding house run by Mrs. Howard Gerland.

Among Mrs. Gerland’s boarders in 1936 was violinist Arthur Fortwongler who lived on the second floor.  The classical musician practiced often and, apparently, loudly.   And when he did so at 10:30 on a Saturday night in August, neighbors took action.

As Forwongler played, an open bottle of milk of magnesia smashed against the rear wall of the house.  The creamy liquid splattered into the open apartment window, some of it making its way into the violin.  Mrs. Gerland immediately suspected 28-year old Bruce W. Campbell, Jr., a mortgage appraiser who rented a room in the adjacent house.

Mr. and Mrs. Gerland summoned a policeman and the trio marched off to question Campbell.  As it turned out, Campbell was entertaining two young women who lived above him and at the time of the medicinal bombardment had stepped out of the apartment.

But before that detail was uncovered, Campbell spent the night in jail.

The following morning he appeared before Magistrate Adolph Stern and “although confessing a distaste for the classics, at least as they emanated from his neighbor’s bow,” reported The New York Times, “pleaded not guilty.”

“’I left the apartment for a few minutes,’ he related, ‘and when I got back, there were Mrs. Gerland, her husband and the policeman.  When they told me about the bottle I concluded some one else in the house had thrown it.  I took the blame—to protect a lady, your honor.”

Campbell added that the violinist “practiced too long and too late.”

The magistrate was confounded and instructed all parties to reach a settlement within a few days and he would reserve his decision until then.

Despite their various uses since the Isham residency, both houses retain their original entrances and details -- photo by Alice Lum

For years the residence remained a boarding house and in the 1940s architect S. V. Becker had his office in the building.  By 1966, however, it was a single family home again, owned by Jim and Jean Spadea, syndicate publishers.  On January 14 of that year the pair hosted an informal fashion show during which Mrs. Spadea thrilled the guests with a misinformed history of the house.

Echoing this, The New York Times reported that “The house at 122 East 38^th Street and its twin at 124 were built in 1905 by Robert Todd Lincoln for his two daughters.”  Although totally erroneous, it was a charming anecdote. 

Jean Spadea complained about the verticality of the house.  “I call this a ranch house on end.  We don’t live a comfortable life.”  She then added her critique on the design.  “The house is Adam revival, with everything way over scale.  It was built too near the Victorian era.”

Owners of vintage homes who get the history and architecture wrong and find their houses uncomfortable are apt to make modern improvements--including gutting original interiors and updating facades.  The Spadeas, however, did neither.  They did, however, give up the house within two years.

In 1968 it became the Celanese House—used by the synthetic fiber producer to showcase its fabrics and floor coverings.   The third floor was leased to Donald Cameron, a designer of Parzinger Originals.

Cameron’s decorative tastes were squarely in the 1960s with milk glass spheres as lights and bold geometric designs in primary colors.  The 1906 architectural elements did not fit into his design scheme.

“Mr. Cameron’s biggest problem,” wrote Rita Reif of The New York Times on March 10, 1970, “was the old-fashioned mantel.  Celanese would not let him remove it, so he did the next best thing.  He created a camouflage of boards of different heights in front of the fireplace, painted them white and installed lighting behind to suggest a huge piece of sculpture.”

Cameron’s avant garde ideas went further.  “His other art idea is to hang some paintings so low that visitors have to sit to examine them.  Once seated, he thinks, people will linger.”

In 1988 Celanese was gone and the house was converted to offices on the lower floors and residential duplexes above.   Since the 1990s the Earth Pledge Foundation has operated from the house.  The Foundation is a non-profit organization that encourages sustainable practices and economic growth.

The handsome house at No. 122 East 38^th Street and its partner at No. 124 are amazingly intact after over a century of use. 

The General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen Bldg -- No. 20 West 44th Street

photo by Alice Lum

The trustees of the Berkeley School for Boys gambled, perhaps, on their choice of sites for the new school building in 1890.  The exclusive boys’ preparatory school had already moved once from its original structure on Madison Avenue and now it chose four lots on the stable-filled block of West 44^th Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues.

Although the site was conveniently near the mansions of Fifth Avenue, the block was still casually referred to as “Stable Street” because of the two- and three-story carriage houses that lined it.  Further down the block was the Sixth Avenue Railroad Depot, making the particular street even more questionable for a respectable prep school.

Yet within only a few years the stables would disappear one by one, replaced by elegant bachelor residence hotels and the most exclusive men’s clubs of the city; among them the New York Yacht Club, the St. Nicholas Club and the Harvard Club.  The gamble paid off.

The Berkeley School was founded by John S. White and opened on September 23, 1880.  The school prepared boys from wealthy families “for the leading universities,” stressing both modern and classical education.  The Sun’s Guide to New York noted “The courses embrace classical and English branches, modern languages, natural philosophy and natural history.”  

White put great emphasis on military protocol and drills, as well, and today we would no doubt refer to the Berkeley as a military academy.  The Sun’s Guide said that “The plan of the school includes military training, gymnastic exercises and out-door sports.  The pupils vary in age between 10 and 20 years and wear a school uniform.”  It assured that “among all the private schools for boys, [it] enjoys the widest reputation and patronage.”

Architects Lamb & Rich, more commonly known for their residential buildings, were commissioned for the project.    The cornerstone was laid on June 30, 1890 “without special ceremonies,” according to The New York Times.  The commander of the school’s battalion, Colonel Frederick R. Franklin, had recently died and celebration seemed “unwise.”    The newspaper predicted that “The building…will be the finest scholastic building in America.” 

In reporting the event, The Times mentioned that the school had just received an impressive honor.  “The highest award given at the Paris Exposition to any boys’ school, outside of France, was a bronze metal awarded to the Berkeley School for its exhibit; consisting of representative work in drawing by the different classes, in modeling and relief-map making, together with photographs of the various classes and rooms.”

The resulting structure, costing $250,000 and completed in 1891, stretched from No. 18 through 24 West 44^th Street.  It was a handsome four-story school above a high basement.   A dramatic, split staircase rose to the rusticated first floor above street level.   Above the central windows of the third floor, a long frieze copied a portion of the Parthenon frieze, taken from casts in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  The architects blended yellow Roman brick, terra cotta and Indiana limestone to create an impressive presence.  It was all capped by an ornate cornice with a central parapet.

On May 30, 1891 The Sun printed a sketch of the new building with its grand split staircase to the first floor and the original cornice and parapet (copyright expired)

Inside were no-nonsense facilities designed for learning and drilling.  The classrooms were identical, 30 by 22 feet “with single desks, having broad aisles on the sides and between each two rows.”  The dining hall and kitchen were on the fourth floor; offices, library and reception rooms were on the first.  The fourth floor also held the dormitories for boarding students, two masters and “the lady resident.”

“The equipment of this school is, beyond all doubt, the best in every department possessed by any private teaching institution in this State,”  said The Sun.  “Excellent laboratories are provided for practical chemical and physical work.”

The terra cotta frieze above the third floor was a copy of the frieze of the Parthenon -- photo by Alice Lum

But it was the armory that stood out.  The Sun reported that it “is walled with plain brick, without ornamentation.  Lockers for the various companies surround the sides.”   Situated on the ground floor, the armory rose “one and a half stories high,” according to the newspaper.  “A span of glass 55 feet wide covers a portion of the armory…This hall is amply lighted by its glass roof by day, and at night is made brilliant by rows of gaslights.”  The New York Times added that the armory was 100 feet wide and 85 feet long, “making a larger armory than that of the Seventy-first Regiment.”

The fifth floor covered only half of the building to accommodate an outdoor area for baseball practice.  Parents of the 300 enrolled students paid annual fees that varied from $350 for the day student to $1000 for the “advanced resident student.”

Leasing the massive armory was a source of extra income for the school.  Immediately the Berkeley Ladies’ Athletic Club developed which held its Winter lawn-tennis tournaments here.  The Evening Badminton Club played here, as well, and the large space was available for other assemblies.  In December 1892 it was the scene of a reception for Columbia, Harvard, Yale and Princeton students before they moved upstairs for a rousing chess tournament.

On Saturday May 13, 1893 scandal arrived in the form of “vile epithets and profanity.”  Berkeley’s chief rival was the Cutler School at 18 West 43^rd Street and on that day the two schools had participated in athletic games at the Berkeley Oval, Berkeley’s athletic field north of the city.  The Evening World reported that “Both institutions are preparatory schools, principally for rich men’s sons, and there has been bitterness between them for several years.”

After the games, John White later told reporters, “the Cutler boys abused his boys and insulted the professors and ladies in the party.”  The next morning passersby were shocked by painted vulgarities in front of the Berkeley School, on the sidewalk in front of Dr. White’s home, and on “fences and posts for a block or two on each side of the avenue.”

To Victorian New Yorkers it was appalling and the thought that well-bred sons of society families had committed the act was unthinkable.   Justice from the hand of Professor Cutler, whose school’s reputation had been sullied, came fast and severe.    On May 16 The Times reported that twelve Cutler boys had been suspended.  “They confessed that they were the perpetrators of the outrage, and further confessed that they had daubed Dr. White’s front stoop at 8 East Forty-fourth Street with paint, and had painted vile and profane expressions over the sidewalk in front of his house, and daubed the front stoops of his neighbors.”

The boys could only say they were caught up in the excitement of their victory over Berkeley.  The Times further detailed their “bad conduct.”  “On their way down from the Oval Saturday afternoon, the Cutler boys became hilarious in the train, it is said, and beat the little boys of the Berkeley School and insulted Dr. White.”

The innocent Cutler students were made to issue a set of resolutions condemning the work of the suspended pupils and expressing their deep regret at the mischief.  The resolution was then presented to John White.  The Cutler boys were instructed to tell no one who the offending parties were because, as Professor Cutler said, “it would not be justice to their parents.”

It was military drill, as much as academic and athletic accomplishment, of which the Berkeley students were proud.  On April 10, 1897 The Sun reported on Berkeley’s participation in the 17^th Annual Price Drill at the Ninth Regiment Armory.  “With their band playing, colors flying, and headed by a youthful drum major who could have put Sousa to sleep, the boys of the Berkeley School Corps, 200 strong, walked right into the hearts of the spectators…The armory floor and galleries were filled to overflowing with the relatives and friends of the youthful soldiers, while a thousand of New York’s sweetest maidens waved their handkerchiefs and showered applause on the liliputian army as they strode by.”

In 1900, only nine years after building the facility, the Berkeley School moved to Madison Avenue and 49^th Street.  The building was purchased by The General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen from Columbia University in trade for three other properties “at no cash outlay to the Society.”

Carved white marble forms a sweeping staircase -- photo courtesy of C. Russell

The society was founded in 1785, but as The New York Tribune pointed out in 1900, “Among the old New-York institutions there is probably none so little known to the general public as the General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen.”  The society was founded, according to the act of incorporation in 1792, “for the laudable purpose of protecting and supporting such of their brethren as by sickness or accident may stand in need of assistance, and for the relief of the widows and orphans of those who may die leaving little or no property for their support.”

By now its purpose had broadened.  As well as providing help, mostly to widows and orphans of tradesmen, it ran a free school.  Originally intended to teach a trade to the children of indigent or deceased members, the school eventually admitted other children who paid a modest tuition.   Which students received free instruction and which ones paid was always a well-kept secret.

A heavy bronze plaque of the Society's logo is affixed to the vermiculated limestone base -- photo by Alice Lum

The Society held its official opening on January 3, 1900.  A substantial financial gift from member Andrew Carnegie paid for the renovations.  The Berkeley School’s cavernous armory had been transformed into the society’s library.  “It is lighted by an immense skylight and an elaborate arrangement of electric lamps,” reported The Times.  On the second floor were an assembly room, executive offices and “members’ apartments.”  The original cornerstone of the first mechanics’ hall was placed in the wall on this level.  The upper floors were dedicated to laboratories, recitation rooms, and studios for classes in “modeling, cabinet decoration, architectural, free hand, and mechanical drawing, and as accommodations for the stenographic and typewriting classes.”

The Society's symbol, an arm and hammer, hang above a staircase -- photo courtesy C. Russell

In 1903 Carnegie, who was impressed by the society’s work with underprivileged boys (he said “It is a wonderful institution, doing more good with a small sum of money than any I know of.”), gave another $250,000 to enlarge the building.  Architect Ralph Samuel Townsend was commissioned to design the renovations.

The proud executive committee of the Society poses as the new headquarters is opened -- New York Tribune January 14, 1900 (copyright expired)

Townsend sympathetically worked with Lamb & Rich’s original design, adding two wings to the rear, removing the top floor and adding three new stories.  Elaborate moldings, terra cotta framings and Ionic columns were deftly incorporated into the design so the resulting extension of the structure is seamless.

Young men are instructed in ornamental relief in the newly renovated building -- New York Tribune, January 14, 1900 (copyright expired)

By May 6, 1908 Andrew Carnegie had given a total of $527,000 to the Society and in appreciation a bronze bust by sculptor J. Massey Rhind was placed in the foyer.   At the time of the unveiling 1,655 men were being instructed in the technical trades.  The Directory of Social and Health Agencies of New York City listed the free courses available.  “Freehand Cast, and Ornamental Drawing, Elementary and Advanced, in Mechanical and Architectural Drawing, Mathematics, and Clay Modelling [sic], also classes in Physics and Industrial Electricity, thus materially assisting them in their daily vocations.”

Sadly, in May 1917 44^th Street was widened, necessitating the removal of the grand stone stairs.  The basement level now became the first floor and the six-story building “with basement” was suddenly a seven-story building on official documents.

With the removal of the staircase, the original entrance door became an arched stained glass window above what had been the basement entrance -- photo by Alice Lum

The Society continues on in the building, over a century after moving in.   A small museum, including a rare collection of locks, the extensive library and the evening classes are here in a building little changed since the removal of the outside steps. 

The 1884 Ralph Townsend House -- No. 302 W. 102nd St.

Ralph Samuel Townsend was born in New York in 1854 to a builder, also named Ralph Townsend.  By the time he was in his late 20s, the younger Townsend was listed in city directories as an architect.  The 1880s were an exciting time for that profession as a profusion of styles and materials broke the mold of the old brownstone rowhouse.

The Upper West Side was booming as public transportation, street lighting, and sewers were introduced.  Speculative developers bought up entire block fronts to be transformed into rows of tall row houses.  Townsend, now 30 years old, was doing well enough by 1884 that he purchased the building plot at No. 302 West 102^nd Street and designed his own home.  It would be like no other residence in the city.

The charming four-story brick structure drew from the latest in architectural fashion.  The design was a variation of the Queen Anne style which the AIA Guide to New York City terms Arts and Crafts.  Townsend dipped into the Aestethic Movement for decorative details.  The deeply recessed and paneled entrance and the quirky asymmetrical dormers that resemble opened deck hatches gave the city house a cottage feel.  Townsend made sure that no two openings balanced one another, creating a delightful jumble of shapes and sizes.  The two-doored entrance, possibly, allowed separate access to Townsend’s office and living space.

Townsend did not live in his creation exceptionally long; and it became home to Col. Joseph Biddle Wilkinson and his family.  Wilkinson, who came from an old New Orleans family, was married to the former Lydia Duval and the couple had two daughters in the house, Lella and Violet. 

On December 23, 1896 Lella married Henry Taylor Statts, Jr. in the nearby St. Michael’s Protestant Episcopal Church.  Among the guests who filed back to the house on 102^nd Street were Isadore Strauss, co-owner of Macy’s Department Store, and his wife Ida.  The couple lived two blocks north, on Broadway where, seven years later, a memorial would be erected to their memory after they perished on the RMS Titanic.

Wilkinson’s position as United States Appraiser caused him to  divide his time between New York and Washington D.C.   The Board of General Appraisers of the United States, established in 1890, was responsible for settling customs disputes.  Members, like Wilkinson, were nominated by the President and confirmed by the Senate.

Typical of his cases was the one the Board heard on August 30, 1897 at No. 125 Bleecker Street.  The Treasury Department had effected a new Tariff bill that made the importation of wool, until now not dutiable, subject to eleven cents per pound duty.  The Sun reported that “There were about ninety protests on file from merchants,” who were attempting to persuade the Board to have the bill rescinded.

The very nature of the work caused disagreements and disputes among the members.  Colonel Wilkinson appears to have been of a singular and unchangeable mind and it may have cost him his job.  The President could, without stated reason, ask for the removal of any of the nine appraisers and on January 23, 1899 President William McKinley did just that.  He requested the resignations of three of the appraisers, including Colonel Joseph B. Wilkinson, Jr. 

The politically and socially-humiliating turn of events drew no comment from Wilkinson, however the New-York Tribune reported that “The officials here decline to make any statement in regard to the matter, yet there is reason to believe that want of harmony in the Board is one of the causes of the President’s action.”

Terra cotta flowers flourish under the rays of a wonderful 1880s sun.

The Wilkinson family left New York for New Orleans.  The house on 102^nd Street was purchased by Louisa Christie who leased it to the elderly and retired Ausburn Birdsall.  Formerly of Binghamton, New York, he had been the president of the Binghamton, Dushore and Williamsport Railroad Company.  Birdsall had been active politically in the Republican Party and was president decades earlier of a Tammany political organization. 

On July 10, 1903 Birdsall died in the house at the age of 89.

By the time World War I drew American soldiers overseas, H. Remington was living here with his family.  Daughter Marjorie was away at Bryn Mawr studying history, economics and politics.

In 1918 Remington partnered with S. O. Simons and H. Frantzen to incorporate The Hot Flo Faucet Corporation with an outlay of $50,000.  The new firm used the 102^ndStreet address briefly, before establishing headquarters at No. 1400 Broadway.

The Hot Flo Faucet Corporation was successful, producing ingenious electric faucets that immediately turned cold water into hot.  Before long the company would branch out into the manufacture of electric water heaters and other related household products. 

Townsend focused on the subtle details.  Note that the lintel on the left is carved with lily leaves, the one on the right with ferns.

Today Ralph Townsend’s charming house is divided into spacious cooperative apartments, one per floor.  It’s delightfully eccentric façade, however, remains for the most part, intact. 

photographs taken by the author