The Lost Alphonse L. Fachere House - 170 West 99th Street

 

The house was in pristine condition in 1932.  The door between it and the flat building to the right was once called a horsewalk--an access to the rear yard.  photograph by Charles Von Urban from the collection of the New York Public Library

In the first years of the 19th century, John Clendening's summer estate stretched from what would become 99th Street to 105th Street, and from Central Park West to Broadway.  On March 20, 1845, the estate was sold at auction at the Merchants' Exchange.  The New York Times would muse decades later, "Of course, in 1845 there was no Central Park.  It was eight years later before the city acquired the great acreage in the central part of Manhattan Island."  Nevertheless, said the newspaper in 1911, "one cannot help but marvel at the lack of confidence displayed by the moneyed men of the city in their apparent lack of confidence in the future" of the West Side.  

Some of the newly plotted lots were sold for only $9.50 each (about $417 in 2026 terms).  The Commercial Advertiser reported on March 20, 1845 that the plot that would later be numbered 107 West 99th Street had sold for $13.  

The Georgian-style Clendening mansion sat between today's Broadway and Amsterdam Avenue, and 102nd and 105th Streets.  D. T. Valentine's Manual, 1863 (copyright expired)

It would not be until the end of the Civil War that development in the district slowly started.  Around 1875, a three-story-and-basement frame house was constructed at what would be given the address of 170 West 99th Street.  Nearly a generation before the neighborhood's blocks would be lined with rows of high-stooped houses, this one was free-standing.  Its full-width porch above a short stoop reflected the personality of the still-rural district.  The porch columns, the corbelled cornice and the molded lintels were influenced by the Italianate style.  The third floor, however, took the form of a slate-shingled mansard pierced by two peaked dormers, a trademark of the fashionable French Second Empire style.

At the time, Alphonse Louis Fachere lived far to the south on West 35th Street.  Born in 1824, he was the owner of the marble business, A. L. Fachere & Co.  The firm had two locations--at 1319 Broadway and 237 West 32nd Street.  Around 1890, Fachere retired and moved into the picturesque wooden house.

Fachere and his wife had at least three children.  One adult child lived here, while two daughters were married.  One of them had married Thomas McNeill in 1890.  The New York World said McNeill, "is a coachman because he loves horses."  The young man was also fond of horse racing.  On September 8, 1893, the 30-year-old Thomas McNeil appeared in Harlem Police Court.  "Three complainants were ready to appear against him for stealing a coupe," reported The New York World.  

McNeill was the coachman of Moses R. Crow.  He sold Crow's coupe (a four-wheeled carriage) to Mooney & Connors, liverymen, for $268.  "Then he got the coupe back on the promise to return the money and sold it again to a physician," said the article.  Now Moses Crow, Mooney & Connors, and the physician all filed complaints against him.

McNeill sent a message to 170 West 99th Street for bail, but, as The World explained, "McNeill isn't admired by his wife's family."  McNeill told a reporter, "My father-in-law is a millionaire, but he is down on me."

And, indeed, when Fouchere was asked to comment, he told a reporter from The World, "McNeill is no good and I have had trouble enough with him.  He can go to the devil for all I care."

Fouchere's other son-in-law, A. A. Brunner disclosed, "He has helped McNeill, but grew tired of giving him money to gamble on the races...He has had every opportunity, but has thrown away his prospects."  Thomas McNeill was jailed for the theft.

The Foucheres had at least two servants--a cook and a maid.  The family was explicit in their advertisement seeking a new maid in November 1896:  "Wanted--A woman for general housework, between 35 and 50 years; three in family; French, Swiss or German.  Apply 170 West 99th st."

Alphonse Louis Fauchere died on July 7, 1897.  His funeral was held in the parlor of 170 West 99th Street two days later.

By the first years of the 20th century, John L. Garvey and his wife, the former Mary R. Bishop, occupied the house.  Garvey was a real estate operator.  He and Mary had at least one daughter, Regine.

Garvey's name appeared in newspapers routinely as he bought and sold real estate.  It appeared for a much different reason on October 1, 1912 when he sought to sell his pool table in The Evening Telegram.  "5x9 P & B billiard table, all complete, $35."

Mary Bishop Garvey died on Christmas Day, 1924.  Her funeral was held in the Church of the Holy Name on Amsterdam Avenue and 96th Street.  

Garvey leased 170 West 99th Street to Lorenzo Daniels and his wife, the former Elinor Louise Adee.  By now, the West 99th Street block was fully developed and the stand-alone wooden house was a charming anachronism.

Lorenzo Daniels was born in Hartford, Connecticut on March 21, 1862.  Elinor was his second wife.  His first, Edith Rexford, died on December 12, 1919, the year that Lorenzo retired.  He and Elinor were married in 1921.

Daniels had been one of the earliest members of the New York Produce Exchange, a co-owner of the Exchange Building, and a trustee of the Dry Dock Savings Institution.  The New York Times said, "Early in his career he moved to New York and entered the exporting and importing business...He developed the scope of his operations until they extended to nearly every quarter of the globe."

Elinor Daniels (who was known familiarly as Ellen), was highly involved in charity work and, according to The New York Times, was "one of the leading Eastern executives of the Red Cross.

Only months after the couple moved into 170 West 99th Street, Elinor Adee Daniels died on December 17, 1925.  Five days later, The New York Times reported on her funeral in St. Bartholomew's Church.  "Several hundred persons, including 100 representatives of the American Red Cross" were there, as well as delegations "from the many charitable organizations with which Mrs. Daniels had been associated."

Lorenzo Daniels moved to 853 Seventh Avenue, where he suffered a fatal stroke on October 14, 1930.  In the meantime, Regine Garvey had returned to 170 West 99th Street.  She was living here in December 1929 when she became a director of the newly incorporated Cloverleaf Creamery, Inc.  As early as 1937, however, the house was vacant and boarded up.

The house was boarded up in 1937.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Within a decade, the wooden relic was gone.  A short fieldstone wall and chain link fence was erected in front of the vacant lot.  

image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

In 2007 the lot at 170 West 99th Street and all the properties between 97th to 100th Streets and Columbus to Amsterdam Avenues became the site of the Columbus Square development project.

The Lost Daly's Restaurant Building - 20 East 42nd Street

 

The Brickbuilder, October 10, 1916 (copyright expired)

Born in Ireland in 1865, Bernard Daly arrived in New York City in 1883.  Although he never dabbled in politics, according to The New York Times years later, he "was a personal friend of many Tammany Hall figures."  Among those were Tammany bosses John F. Curry and Charles F. Murphy.

In 1885, Daly opened a saloon on Eleventh Avenue and West 42nd Street.  He lost the business in bankruptcy in 1908, creating a problem for Judge Hough.  He appointed a businessman who was not affiliated with the courts to "carry on the business," according to the New York Herald.  The article explained, "A lawyer remarked that Uncle Sam running a liquor saloon would not please the Prohibitionists."

Bernard Daly began anew, opening a restaurant and bar in a renovated three-story townhouse at 20 East 42nd Street, just east of Fifth Avenue.  Daly subleased the space from the New York Real Estate and Security Company, which was renting the property from Caroline Cochard, who lived in Paris.  Spaces in the upper portion of the building were occupied by offices, at least two of which held well known architects--Emery Roth and Oscar Lowinson.

In 1913, the New York Real Estate and Security Company failed.  The New York Times reported on January 17, 1914, "Agnes Daly, wife of Bernard Daly, the tenant of the property," had leased the old building.  The New York Herald noted that the lease would extend for 19 years.

The Dalys hired architect John Philip Voelker to remodel the vintage house into a romantic, five-story-and-attic building.  The Daly Restaurant would occupy the lower three floors of the Tyrolean-style structure, and the upper portion would hold apartments.  Voelker was assisted by architect Oscar Lowinson.  (The latter's fees were covered by Caroline Cochard.)  Lowinson was charged with designing the striking glass-and-iron marquee, an extension in the rear, and (less glamorous) the plumbing.

Voelker gave the side piers a striated effect by alternating red brick and stone.  A long arcade fronted the second floor and three grouped windows dominated the third.  The upper floors sat back, allowing for a crenellated balcony at the fourth floor.  The step-gabled attic was decorated with half-timbering.

Oscar Lowinson worked "in co-operation with Jack Abrams & Bro., Inc.," on the up-to-date plumbing, according to The Plumbers' Trade Journal, Steam and Hot Water Fitters' Review on September 15, 1915.  The journal called it "a very fine installation of modern plumbing work," and described, "The changes and alterations consist of providing extensive kitchen plumbing equipment, a six-station bar 67 feet long, two commodious toilet rooms, one in the basement for men and one on [the] second floor for women."

Unlike his previous saloon, Daly's was a proper restaurant and barroom.  The New York Times would recall in 1933 that it "was noted for many specialties both in its cuisine and at its bar, one of the longest in the city at that time."

The price for the above meal would translate to about $38 in 2026.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

Shortly after the restaurant opened, tragedy occurred.   Myles Carroll, who was employed by the Knickerbocker Ice Company, drove his ice wagon to the restaurant on September 22, 1914.  Court papers documented that he was delivering ice in the cellar when "the ice tongs slipped and a 300-lb cake of ice fell upon him, striking him in the abdomen."  The injured man died in a hospital six days later.

Like the modern plumbing, Bernard Daly kept up with technological advances.  Early in 1916, he converted the kitchen from coal ranges to gas.  In its April 1916 issue, Gas Logic published two photographs, explaining:

It was an over-night change of kitchen.  The chef and his three assistants left Daly's Restaurant, No. 20 East Forty-second Street, after the coal fires had been "drawn."  The next morning the chef was prepared to cook the meals of 500 customers on Gas Ranges.

Kitchen workers among the coal-fired equipment. Gas Logic, April 1916 (copyright expired)

The kitchen with its gas-fed equipment.  Gas Logic April 1916 (copyright expired)

Although the article's photographs did not reveal dramatic transformations, it noted, "The heat in the Daly Restaurant kitchen had always been excessive...That kitchen is cool and comfortable today."

Bernard Daly's first trouble with authorities came in 1918.  To conserve oil and coal for the war effort, the Federal Government instituted "Lightless Sundays and Thursdays."  On those nights, no exterior lighting other that street lights was allowed.  Storefronts and displays were ordered shut off.

The electric sign outside Daly's Restaurant burned brightly on Thursday night, March 29, 1918.  The infraction cost Daly dearly.  The following day, The Evening World reported, "Ten firms...had their electric current turned off to-day by order of Deputy Fuel Administrator Edwin O. Norma. for violation of the 'lightless Thursday' rule last night."  Among those businesses was Daly's Restaurant.  The article said that it was Daly's second offense, and he received a warning the first time.

Another war restriction would get Daly into hot water.  Eight months later, in November 1918, the Government passed the Wartime Prohibition Act, banning the sale of intoxicating liquors.  At 7:00 on September 17, 1919, according to The New York Times, "dinner was being served and the restaurant upstairs and the barroom was crowded."  About 50 patrons were eating in the dining room.  The article added that the cabaret and dancing room on the second floor "was well filled."  Suddenly Federal agents entered and "quietly walked to the end of the bar and told the man behind the bar there that he was under arrest."

The agents spread throughout the premises.  The New York Times said, "Those in the barroom were startled when a file of some half a dozen men, each displaying a gilt badge, started down the bar, moving aside the bartenders and gathering up the stock.  Flasks, demijohns, and bottles were passed back to the end of the counter."  In all, four of Daly's employees were arrested.  The New York Hotel Record added that the agents, "took with them to the Federal Building about four gallons of gin, whisky, brandy, and sherry."

Disgusted, Bernard Daly sold his business and his lease.  The New York Times later reminisced, "Persons in many walks of life frequented Daly's Restaurant and Grill.  Society folk, politicians, stage celebrities, authors and commuters mingled there.  For the last of these a late afternoon drink or two of ale often meant running for a Grand Central train."

(A calmer Daly would soon have seller's regret.  "Not long afterward, however, he opened another Daly's Restaurant and Grill at 17 East Fifty-ninth Street," said The New York Times.)

The ground floor of 20 East 42nd Street became a C. & L. Luncheonette, and the second floor was leased in February 1920 to Irving Chen and Chin Goon, "who will occupy the premises with a first-class Chinese-American restaurant," reported The New York Times.

The restaurants' tenancies would be short-lived.  On December 10, 1922, The New York Times remarked on the proposed "erection of the 20 East Forty-second Street Building" on the site as part of the "peak of the building movement in the Terminal zone."  

The replacement building.  image via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

The Daly's Restaurant Building was demolished to be replaced by a six-story structure designed by Dennison & Hirons, completed in 1924.  That structure survives.

many thanks to reader Doug Wheeler for prompting this post

The Lost Scotch Presbyterian Church - 360 Central Park West

 

from the collection of the New-York Historical Society

On July 23, 1892, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that the Scotch Presbyterian Church "will shortly commence the erection of a handsome church edifice...on the southwest corner of Central Park West and 96th street."  Simultaneously, said the article, a "lecture room" would be constructed on the north side of 95th Street, just west of Central Park West.  "The church will cost $150,000 and the lecture room $50,000," it said.  The total figure would translate to about $7.3 million in 2026.

The Scotch Presbyterian Church originated following a schism within the First Presbyterian Church in 1756.  After worshipping in several locations, the congregation erected a Sicilian Gothic-style church at 53 West 14th Street in 1852.  Now (despite Dr. Charles Henry Parkhurst saying that the trustees "exhibited cowardice" by abandoning the increasingly commercial West 14th Street), the trustees planned another move.

William H. Hume & Son was commissioned to design what The New York Times promised would be "an imposing Romanesque pile."  Construction on both buildings began in 1892 and by late summer of 1893 the West 95th Street structure was completed.  

The West 95th Street building, like the church, was Romanesque in style.  New-York Tribune, May 31, 1894 (copyright expired)

On September 18, the New-York Tribune reported that the "handsome new Sunday-school room of the Scotch Presbyterian Church...was formally opened yesterday afternoon."  The article noted, "On October 1 the church congregation will begin to worship in the Sunday-school room, which it will use till the completion of its new church...in Ninth-sixth-st., behind the Sunday-school."

On March 31, 1894, The New York Times reported on the cornerstone laying ceremony.  "W. H. Hume, the architect of the church building, spoke briefly, congratulating the officers of the church on the successful beginning of the work."  The newspaper described Hume's plans:

The foundation is of bluestone and the rest of the structure will be of Indiana limestone.  The iron-trussed roof will be covered with Spanish tiles.  The main entrance, on Ninety-sixth Street, will be under three romanesque [sic] arches, above which there is to be a large rose window.  At the northeast corner will be a high square tower.

Nine months later, the structure neared completion.  On December 30, 1894, The New York Times remarked, "The new building of the Scotch Presbyterian Church, Ninety-sixth Street and Central Park West, attracts and rewards the visitor by its solid, impressive architecture and the display of art in the adornments."  The artistic "adornments" included the Scotch thistle motif, which appeared "from the cornerstone to the cornice, over the organ, in the pew ends, and elsewhere."

The article vividly described the 52 stained-glass windows, executed by William Gibson's Sons.  In the center of the "great wheel window over the main entrance," said the article, was "an open Bible with the text, 'Thy word is truth.'"  It was surrounded by seven small round windows.

Completed in 1895, William H. Hume & Son had, indeed, created an "imposing Romanesque pile."  Turning its shoulder to Central Park West, the building faced West 96th Street.  Above a wide set of stone stairs, three arched entrances sat below the complex rose window within a yawning arch.  On the western side of the peaked roof was a romantic turret with a conical cap.  On the eastern side, a formidable bell tower rose high above Central Park West, terminating in a pyramidal cap.

Among the first social functions held by the church was a fund-raising event.  On September 22, 1895, the New-York Tribune said it "has hit upon a novel scheme to raise funds."  Congregants received "the oddest invitation they ever received."  The cards, "printed on coarse wrapping paper of the cheapest quality," invited them to a "Povertie Partie."  Written in Shakespearean-style prose like, "Ye women must wear ye cotton gowne and apron or equally befitting apparel," the invitations explained that the party was inspired by the "hard times which do now prevail."  A list of fines, ranging from 1 to 25 cents, would be levied on guests who violated the dress code, like wearing a scarfpin or silk dress.

Two years later, the rector, David G. Wylie, and his family moved into the new "manse" next door to the church on West 96th Street.  It was designed by Jardine, Kent & Jardine.

A sliver of the new rectory can be glimpsed at the right.  from the collection of the New York Public Library

The Scotch Presbyterian Church, deeply rooted in the British Isles, was the scene of two mourning services for world leaders in 1901.  In his sermon on January 27, Reverend Wylie memorialized Queen Victoria and pointed out the late monarch's viewpoint on women.  He said in part, "she was interested in everything which tended to elevate woman.  She was a queen in her home, and believed that home was pre-eminently woman's real sphere, where she should shine as a queen."

Eight months later, on September 16, The New York Times reported on Wylie's sermon following the assassination of President William McKinley.  He said that the name of the fallen President would "be closely associated with those of Washington and Lincoln--an immortal triumvirate."

The Central Park West elevation.  Streetcar tracks run down the middle of the stone-paved avenue.  from the collection of the New-York Historical Society.

Earlier that year, on July 28, the decorum of Sunday service was shattered.  During Reverend Wylie's sermon, a woman suddenly stood up.  The New-York Tribune reported, "Tearing her collar from around her neck, she placed it around her head and exclaimed: 'I am going to be married to Mr. Rockwell.'"

Wylie stopped speaking, the congregants turned to face the disturbance, and an usher rushed over to the woman.  The New-York Tribune described her as "tall, black haired and neatly attired in a white waist and a black skirt."  When the usher attempted to restrain her, she "fought desperately, and succeeded in tearing the lining entirely out of the man's coat."  She was finally carried to the vestry room where she continued to attempt to "get at the usher, especially after the unfortunate man, in his efforts to quiet the woman, told her that he was Mr. Rockwell."

An ambulance took Pearl Rockwell to the Harlem Hospital.  She was later transferred to Bellevue Hospital and placed in the "insane pavilion."  There it was learned that the 40-year-old and her husband were estranged.  "It is thought that grief over the separation unbalanced her mind," explained the New-York Tribune.

Rev. Dr. David G. Wylie, New-York Tribune, September 17, 1904 (copyright expired)

Reverend Wylie, like other pastors throughout the city, was highly opinionated and announced his views from the pulpit.  On July 3, 1904, for instance, he laid out the evils that threatened the United States.  He said in part:

One of our National evils is Mormonism.  Another is divorce.  The next menace is that of the saloon.  Corporate greed offers a menace not to be forgotten...There ought to be a greater regard for human life in this country than there is at present.  Our street railways are a source of danger because of the gross carelessness often exhibited.  The automobile threatens the lives of children, women, and old people.

In 1907 the Scotch Presbyterian Church merged with the First Reformed Presbyterian Church.  That congregation moved into the West 96th Street edifice and on March 16, the New York Herald confirmed that the consolidated congregations would operate "under the name of the Scotch Presbyterian Church."

David G. Wylie had married Jennie McWilliam in 1884.  The couple had four sons, Howard M., David R., John McWilliam, and Robert Sterling, and one daughter, Jennie D.  The family found themselves in the national spotlight when John went missing.

On April 26, John Wylie, who was 15 at the time, and his best friend, 16-year-old Buster Gutelius, sold their bicycles and took the $25 they obtained to buy train tickets to Port Jervis, New York.  The duo later explained that they "were in search of some needed outdoor recreation."

When the boys failed to come home from school that Friday afternoon, their parents had reported them missing.   By Tuesday the New York newspapers reached the Mill Rift Post Office near the Pennsylvania border.  The boys, who had established a camp within a cave, purchased an axe, some eggs, and other rations, from the general store that shared space with the post office.  

When Wylie and Gutelius returned, Postmaster Maloney compared their faces with the photographs.  Rather than confronting them and risking scaring them away, he quietly mailed off a letter to Rev. David G. Wylie.  On the morning of May 3, Dr. Wylie and another son arrived at the post office while the Gutelius family waited nervously on Central Park West for word.

Maloney sent a neighbor, Samuel Wilson, to the mountain cave with word that the postmaster needed to see him.  Leaving Buster cooking bacon and flapjacks, John Wylie rushed to town.  When he entered Maloney’s store, he was confronted with his father and brother.  The quixotic adventure was over.

The New York Times wrote, “Dr. Wylie was much impressed by the natural habitation, and was delighted to find that the boys had been living in a comfortable manner.  However, they had but $2 left.”

The following morning the New-York Tribune ran a headline reading “Cave Boys Come Home.”  The newspaper advised “The erstwhile cave men, or cave boys, did not willingly leave their subterranean retreat in a mountainside near Millville, Penn., but they came back at the earnest persuasion of Dr. Wylie.”

Reverend David G. Wiley would suffer unspeakable tragedy  in 1910.  On October 8, he conducted the funeral of John McWilliam Wylie, whose adventure had captured America's attention three years earlier.  The New York Times remarked, "members of the [United Boy's Brigade of America], his classmates in public, high, and Sunday schools will be present."

Jennie McWilliam Wylie fell sick upon his son's death.  Less than a month later, on November 4, she died.  The New-York Tribune said that it was thought that the loss of her son had "hastened Mrs. Wylie's death."

After occupying the pulpit of the Scotch Presbyterian Church for 23 years, on February 23, 1914, The New York Times reported that Wylie had resigned to take the position of Secretary of the Board of Church Erection of the Presbyterian Church in the United States.  (On October 1 that year, the newspaper reported on his engagement to Martha Richter Thomas.)

The Reverend Dr. Robert Watson was installed as the new pastor on January 10, 1915.  Two years later, the congregation's name was changed to the Second Presbyterian Church.

In the post-World War I years, congregations nation-wide began embracing a new concept: the skyscraper church.  Parishes replaced their church edifices with office or apartment buildings that incorporated worship space within the lower floors.  On January 17, 1928, The New York Times reported that the Second Presbyterian Church would lease its property "to the Vinross Realties Company, Inc."  The article explained that the developer would replace the church with "a fifteen-story apartment building, which will house and support the church and its various activities."

Demolition of the 33-year-old church structure began in 1928.  It was replaced by 360 Central Park West, designed by Rosario Candela.

image via streeteasy.com

The Lost Richards and Rathbone Mansions - 8 and 10 LeRoy Place

 

etching by Alexander Jackson Davis, from Views of New York, 1831 (copyright expired)

Isaac G. Pearson filled both sides of Bleecker Street between Greene and Mercer Streets with elegant mansions designed by Alexander Jackson Davis around 1828.  Presumably, the north and south blockfronts mirrored one another.  On the south side, six Federal-style residences were entered at ground level.  Above their rusticated bases, full-width cast iron balconies fronted the second floors.  Centered between these homes were two even grander, mirror-image mansions.  Nos. 92 and 94 Bleecker straddled the Georgian and Federal styles.  Flanking their high stone stoops were elaborately wrought-iron basket newels.  The floor-to-ceiling parlor windows opened onto cast-iron balconies.  Commodious fanlights above the single paneled entrance doors spilled light into the vestibules.  The doorways were flanked by columns and sidelights.  The mansions were unified at the attic level by a balustrade and carved parapet.  A centered, square cupola crowned each of the residences.

Mordecai Marks and his family occupied 92 Bleecker Street in 1830.  They were supplanted by Guy Richards and his wife as early as 1833.  By then, Isaac G. Pearson had successfully lobbied the Board of Aldermen to rename the block LeRoy Place.  (The practice was intended to increase the exclusivity of certain blocks and resulted in other sections of Bleecker Street becoming DePau Row and Carroll Place.)

An enlarged view of 8 and 10 LeRoy Place reveals details of the elegant doorways and wrought iron newels.  etching by Alexander Jackson Davis, from Views of New York, 1831 (copyright expired)

The Richards house was now 8 LeRoy Place.  (The address would be variously spelled Leroy and Le-Roy Place.)  Born on January 8, 1788, Richards was an 1807 graduate of Yale College.  When he purchased 8 LeRoy Place, he owned a distillery on Perry Street.  

As early as 1840, John Rathbone and his family occupied the mansion next door at 10 LeRoy Place.  The head of John Rathbone & Son and a founder and director of the Bank of Commerce, John Rathbone was born in Canterbury, Connecticut on October 20, 1751.  He and his first wife, Eunice Wells, had 11 children.  She died in 1810 and in 1813 he married Mary Sheffield.

John Rathbone, Genealogy of the Descendants of William Chesebrough, 1903 (copyright expired)

Rathbone's immense wealth was reflected in his subscribing to $20,000 in war loans during the War of 1812, and in his financial backing of the Erie Canal.  The 1898 Rathbone Genealogy records:

In connection with Eleazer Lord of New York he took the entire amount of the first Ohio Canal loan, in 1825, of $400,000, and subsequently made a loan in connection with John Jacob Astor for same amount to the same State.

Mary Sheffield Rathbone died in January 1840 at the age of 78.  There would be two more funerals in the drawing room in quick succession.  John Jr. died at the age of 66 on July 30, 1842, and John Rathbone Sr. died in the mansion on March 13, 1843 at the age of 92.  

A notice in the New-York Tribune on March 15, 1843 said, "His friends and those of his sons-in-law, Robert Chesebrough and Samuel B. Ruggles, are requested to attend his funeral from his late residence, No. 10 Leroy place, this afternoon at half-past 4 o'clock."  (Samuel Ruggles is best remembered today for developing Union Square and Gramercy Park, and Robert Chesebrough for discovering petroleum jelly, which he marketed as Vaseline.)

An auction of the Rathbone furnishings (what today would be called an estate sale) was held later that year.  The Guy Richards family would now get new neighbors in the Benjamin Lincoln Swan Jr. family.

Born in 1818, Benjamin owned a ship chandlery at 1 Hanover Square.  He had left his parents' the magnificent mansion at 416 Lafayette Street upon his marriage to Caroline Post.  (Incidentally, Benjamin's brother, Edward, married Caroline's sister, Julia Post.)  The couple would establish a country estate, Woodside Farm, in Oyster Bay, Long Island.

The Swanns' country estate included an Italianate villa.  from the collection of the Library of Congress

Caroline Post Swan's father, Allison Post, died in 1848.  Her mother, Elizabeth Floyd Post, moved into the LeRoy Place mansion and by 1850, Dr. Jotham Post shared the house.  (It is unclear how Dr. Post was related to the family.)

It is possible that Guy Richards had a son from a previous marriage.  An arcane position-wanted advertisement appeared in The New York Times on May 29, 1856:

Employment Wanted--For a young man of Christian character and principles, who is slightly disabled in the left hand, but active, prompt and energetic.  He is competent to teach, but an affection of eyes prevents this means of living.  Any confidential post, as travelling agent, or companion, would be acceptable.  Any gentleman needing such a companion, will find him intelligent and well bred, being the son of a gentleman.  Address X.Q.P. No. 8 Leroy-place, Bleecker-st., New-York.

In 1861, Benjamin and Caroline Swan moved uptown to 5 West 20th Street.  Edward Henry and Julia Post Swan moved into the LeRoy Place mansion.  Elizabeth Floyd Post remained here and Mary Post (Caroline's and Julia's paternal aunt) moved in at the same time.  Mary died in the house on January 8, 1864 at the age of 82.  Her funeral was held in the mansion two days later.

Sharing 8 LeRoy Place by 1871 was a distant relative, Dr. Wolcott Richards.  Born on June 15, 1803, he graduated from Yale Medical School in 1825.  His first marriage to Indiana Cordelia Twiggs ended in divorce.  He married Susan Mansfield Strong in 1841.

By the time Guy Richards death at the age of 85 on March 26, 1873, the name of the block had reverted to Bleecker Street.  Interestingly, his funeral was not held in the mansion, but at the Brick Church on Fifth Avenue and 37th Street.  

At the time of Richard's death, the Swan mansion had been converted for business.  It was home to William H. Geib's piano showroom and factory.  In 1876 it was taken over by another piano maker, Lindeman & Sons.

In the mid-1880s, both residences had been renovated for commercial use.  Then, in the post-World War I years they were replaced by a commercial building.  That structure and the rest of the block were demolished in the 1960s as part of New York University's Silver Towers.

photograph by Kidfly182

The Lost 7th Precinct Station House - 247 Madison Street

from the collection of the New York Public Library

On August 2, 1860, the New-York Daily Tribune reported, "A protest was received from various citizens in the Seventh Ward against the purchase by the city of the lots at Nos. 245 and 247 Madison street, for a new Station House in that Ward."  The citizens were not opposed to a new police station in their neighborhood, they were outraged by the cost.  The article said, "the original owner of the property was willing to take $9,000 for the property, but the [city offered] $15,000 for it."  Despite the grievances, the following day the Board of Alderman passed a resolution "to secure the premises Nos. 245 and 247 Madison street...at a price not exceeding $15,000."

The police department's architect produced a stylish Italianate-style station house.  The fully arched openings were, most likely, ornamented with molded lintels or architraves.  Dimension was achieved by slightly projecting the central three-bay wide section.  A corbelled cast metal cornice with a triangular pediment completed the design.  (A separate building in the rear yard housed the holding cells for prisoners.)

from the collection of the New York Public Library

Shortly after ground was broken for the 7th Precinct Station house, the first shot of the Civil War was fired.  The building was completed and fully staffed when one of the darkest periods in New York City history took place--the Draft Riots.  A revolt over the nation's first attempt at a military draft began with a lottery on July 11, 1863.  The first 1,200 names drawn came overwhelmingly from the city's poor and immigrant population.  Wealthy families had bought exemptions to exclude their sons.

At around 6:30 on the morning of July 13, 1863, riots erupted.  The resulting three-day reign of terror and carnage was unlike anything seen in the country before.  Innocent people were murdered, and draft offices, newspaper buildings, and the homes and neighborhoods of the city’s black population were burned.  The 7th Precinct officers were deployed to "sharp fighting," as described by The New York Times, throughout the district.  The newspaper said that on that first day, the officers staged an "attack upon and severe usage of the rioters at Broadway and Amity-street [later Third Street]."  

On the second day, Henry F. O'Brien, the black colonel of the 11th New York Volunteer Infantry Regiment, was spotted on Second Avenue.  He was surrounded by a vicious gang and for more than an hour he was pummeled with rocks and kicked.  He was then carried to a house where he was tortured to death and his body butchered beyond recognition.  Civilians who attempted to intervene were attacked by the mob.

The New York Times reported that Captain Bennett and men of the 7th Precinct were "detailed, with a company of military, to visit Thirty-fourth-street, where Col. O'Brien was so horribly murdered, to recover the body."  

In recapping the mayhem, on August 9, 1863 The New York Times remarked, "The officers and men of this Precinct saw considerable service during the week, and sustained the good repute hitherto attached to them."

In the summer of 1870, three 7th Precinct beat officers--Wild, Shalvey and Jarboe--revealed their sharp focus and concentration.  A year earlier, in April 1869, John Kelly, "alias John Wilson, alias 'Paddy Barry,'" according to The Evening Post, was sentenced to two-and-a-half years in Sing Sing prison.  He escaped six months later.  Kelly managed to blend into the Bowery surroundings for nearly a year.  Then, at around 3:00 on the morning of August 24, 1870, the three officers nabbed him.  The Evening Post reported, "He will be returned to his old quarters to-day."

In 1872, according to the Sunday Mercury, the staff of the 7th Precinct consisted of one captain, four sergeants, 60 patrolmen, and two doormen.  (A "doorman" was the officer who manned the desk just within the front door to address questions and complaints of civilians who walked in.)  

The following year, the country was plunged into a debilitating financial depression--the Panic of 1873.  It would bring dire consequences to the already impoverished residents of the 7th Precinct.  In reporting on the "destitution" that was spreading across the city, on February 9, 1874, the New York Herald quoted Sergeant Oates.  "He thought there ought to be provision made for the wretched poor, fallen from higher estates."  

While the reporter was there, he looked around.  "Their quarters seemed well ventilated, and, not to be too complimentary, considerably the least disgusting of any of those visited."

Members of the 7th Precinct dealt with gangs and "rowdies."  On July 27, 1875, Officer Thomas F. Regan came upon a group of 15 men fighting at the corner of Madison and Scammell Streets.  Rather than call for assistance, he attempted to break up the melee single-handedly.  The mob immediately turned their focus onto the policeman.  The New-York Tribune reported, "he was knocked down, kicked, and left lying insensible on the sidewalk."  He was discovered and taken to the police station.  Regan's injuries were significant and the newspaper said "he was found to be unfit for police duty for some time."

A heart-warming incident took place here in the fall of 1896.  On October 10, a "shabbily dressed man about thirty years old," as described by The New York Times, was found prostrated in the station house doorway.  The man, Andrew Wyzandt, was deemed to be intoxicated and was locked up.

The next morning Detective Mooney escorted him to the Essex Market Police Court.  Wyzandt walked "feebly" and "stopped at garbage barrels along the walk and searched for crusts and apple cores.  When he found any he put them furtively in his pockets," reported The New York Times.

"Look here," Mooney asked, "are you really hungry?"

"I am starved."

Mooney made a detour in their route to the courthouse.  The article said that he "took him into a coffee saloon and ordered for him some chops, potatoes, rolls, and coffee."  Wyzandt merely stared at the plates when they were brought.  The New York Times said, "Losing patience, the detective held a roll under his guest's nose.  The result was magical.  Wyzandt ate the meal furiously."

Less charitably treated by a different precinct was Samuel Levi, who lived at 145 East Broadway.  On June 13, 1897, he rode his bicycle to the Queens County Park, where he fell and broke his leg.  He was taken to the nearest police station but, as reported by The Sun, "they didn't want him, nor did the hospital near by."  Finally, he was transported to the 7th Precinct Station House, arriving at about 7:30 that evening.  The article said that Sergeant MacSweeny sent for an ambulance and Levi was taken to Gouveneur Hospital "several hours after his accident."

An inspection of the brick cell building on December 13, 1911 discovered disturbing conditions.  Saying there were "two rows of cells back to back, eight on one side and seven on the other, with a passageway all around," it noted, "There are no wash-bowls and no shower baths."  The "toilets" used by prisoners were makeshift privies, "in appearance like a megaphone set into a sewer pipe."  The inspectors concluded, "The whole place is inexpressively bad and a disgrace to the city.  It should be abandoned with as little delay as possible and a modern prison built."

That did not happen and following an inspection two years later, State Prisoner Henry Solomon wrote, "This has long been known as the worst police station in the city."  Once again, he stressed that "modern sanitary" water closets should be installed, adding, "wash basins are also needed."  Instead, the rear jail building was simply shut down in 1916 and prisoners were taken to the 13th Precinct on Clinton Street.

On May 20, 1921, the New York Herald reported, "The old Seventh Precinct police station in 247 Madison street, one of the police landmarks of the city, ceased to exist at midnight last night."  The precinct was absorbed into the Oak Street and Clinton Street stations.

Two weeks later, on June 3, John Finck purchased the property "on behalf of a client," as reported by the Proceedings of the Commissioners of the Sinking Fund.  It was acquired "for the purpose of turning it into a public shower bath."  

The extensive renovations (that cost $53,000, or about $975,000 in 2026) took four years to complete.  On April 30, 1925, The New York Times reported that Borough President Julius Miller would officially open the baths the next day.  

It was probably during the bath conversion that the Victorian details were removed from the openings. via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

Saying that the bath was "something very much needed in this densely populated neighborhood, Miller described:

This old police station has been entirely transformed.  The cells in the yard have been torn down, the yard cleared, a pavement laid and it is now a community playground.  There is a waiting room on the first floor, also women's shower room; on the second floor, men's shower room; and on the third floor, men's and women's shower rooms.

The Madison Street Free Baths operated until 1970.  It was demolished for the first section of the Gouverneur Healthcare Services Building.

photographer by Halil Serkan Kutun

The Lost Hoffstatter & Revillon Frères Bldg - 668-670 Fifth Avenue

To the left of the new building is the William K. Vanderbilt Jr mansion.  The Brickbuilder, November 11, 1916 (copyright expired)

On March 23, 1913, The New York Times began an article saying, "The business invasion of Fifth Avenue north of Forty-second Street goes on ruthlessly."  Sumptuous mansions were rapidly being replaced by commercial buildings.  The article reported, "Workmen last week began tearing down the big Gallatin house on the southwest corner of Fifty-third Street, purchased a short time ago by Michael Dreicer for over $1,000,000.  Two six-story business buildings are to be erected on the 50-foot Fifth Avenue frontage."  

Michael Dreicer was the son of Jacob Dreicer, who opened his jewelry business in 1868.  They are credited for bringing cut gems into fashion, surpassing pearls.  The younger Dreicer had now branched into real estate development with the Dreicer Realty Company.   He hired Henry Otis Chapman to design the side-by-side buildings.  Construction would cost $130,000 to erect, or about $4.4 million in 2026 terms.

Chapman's Francois I Revival design was intended to harmoniously co-exist on the block with the magnificent Petite Chateau, erected for William K. and Alva Vanderbilt, and 666 Fifth Avenue, the Willie K. and "Birdie" Oelrichs Vanderbilt mansion.  The Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide approved, calling 668-670 Fifth Avenue "one of the most attractive on the avenue, built in the Francois Premier style of architecture."

Like the two surviving mansions on the block, the buildings were faced in limestone.  The first and second floors of 668 Fifth Avenue were dominated by a vast, double-height show window capped by a French Gothic header and crocket.  Grouped windows at the third and fourth floors sat below square-headed drip moldings.  The steep mansard was fronted by a French Gothic dormer and crowned with lacy cast iron cresting.

The corner building continued many of those motifs--the double-height show window and the grouped openings at the third and fourth floors, for instance.  A row of ornate dormers lined the mansard on the 53rd Street side, and identical  rooftop cresting visually unified the structures.

No. 668 had been leased before the first shovel broke ground.  Nearly two weeks before The New York Times article, on March 10, 1913, The Furniture Trade Review reported that Theodore Hofstatter & Co. had "closed negotiations" for leasing the building "for a term of twenty-one years."  The article noted, "Hofstatter & Co., are in the interior decorating and furniture business, are now located at 589 Fifth avenue."

The buildings were completed in 1914 and very quickly the Hofstatter Building was the center of excitement.  On May 19, 1914, an alarm "brought the firemen to the home of Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt, Jr., at 666 Fifth Avenue," reported The New York Times.  The Vanderbilts were at their summer estate and heavy smoke was seen pouring out of one of the chimneys.

The Vanderbilts' caretaker notified the responding firefighters that there was no fire.  "About ten minutes later the blaze was discovered in the building occupied by Hofstatter & Co.," said the article.  "Decorators had been working on the fifth floor, and in some manner, a curtain became ignited."  Happily, the fire was extinguished before it could spread.  The New York Times said, "More than $500,000 worth of art treasures are in the building."

It would be nearly a year before the corner building was leased.  On February 6, 1915, the Record & Guide reported that Revillon Frères had leased "the new six-story building" for 21 years.  Revillon Brothers established its fur company in 1723.  Now known as Revillon Frères, it was a leading retailer and manufacturer of luxury furs and accessories.

The New York Times, September 26, 1915 (copyright expired)

Both firms sublet space in their buildings, with most of the tenants being in the arts or decorating business.  One notable exception was the Sonora Phonograph Corp.  On July 25, 1915, the New York Herald reported that the firm "has leased salons at 668 Fifth Avenue adjoining the Vanderbilt residence, for demonstration rooms."  

A Sonora Phonograph ad in December 1915 depicted the entire blockfront. The Pharmaceutical Era (copyright expired)

Also in 668 Fifth Avenue at the time was the Kent-Shmayon Galleries.  The firm dealt in imported art and antiques, like Persian faience, rare manuscripts, Chinese porcelains, and Spanish, Italian and English antique furniture.  Not long after its opening, it was the target of two slick thieves.  On December 1, 1914, Joseph Hess and "another well-dressed man" entered the Kent-Shmayon Galleries "to look at some antiques," reported The New York Times, "and carried off jewelry valued at $7,900."  (The heist would equal $261,000 today.)  Hess, who was known to police as "the man with many aliases," was captured in Indianapolis on January 6, 1915.

Unfortunately, the war in Europe disrupted the firm's ability to import goods.  On February 27, 1915, The Evening Post reported, "The Kent-Shmavon Galleries, 668 Fifth Avenue, have been forced by present conditions, due to the war, to close their galleries."  A six-day liquidation auction began on March 1.  The article said, "Altogether there are nearly fourteen hundred items now on exhibition."

via the NYC Dept of Records & Information Services.

On March 2, the New-York Tribune reported on the first day's sales, saying, "Lovers and students of Eastern art filled the large ground floor salon."  The article noted, "Lillian Russell was an interested and liberal buyer.  She obtained, among other things, an Asia Minor silk rug."  Other items that were sold that day was a "Persian carpet of Kerman weave" which sold for the equivalent of $19,500 today, and a "Persian Goerevan carpet with a camel's hair field" that brought nearly the same amount.

The Bourgeois Galleries replaced the Kent-Shmavon Galleries in the building.  The art dealers catered to wealthy patrons.  Somewhat ironically, one of its first exhibitions was the private collection of Albert Eugene Gallatin's paintings and graphic art.  Certainly many of the artworks had hung in his family's mansion on the site.

The gallery's firm reputation did not require anything other than a dignified, understated ad.  The Arts, August-September 1921 (copyright expired)

Other tenants in the buildings in the 1920s, along with Hoffstatter and Revillon Frères, of course, were Stair & Andrew and the Kingore art gallery.  Stair & Company, which occupied space on the fourth floor of 668 Fifth Avenue, specialized in old English furniture, paneling, tapestries, and antique mantelpieces. 

By the mid-1920s, John D. Rockefeller Jr. owned 668 and 670 Fifth Avenue.  On February 16, 1928, The New York Times reported that he was erecting a six-story building on the southwest corner of Fifth Avenue and 54th Street and that it "will be occupied under lease by Revillon Frères, furriers."  The firm was replaced by Raymond & Whitcomb, Inc., which made "extensive alterations," according to The New York Times on June 6, 1929.

Raymond & Whitcomb, Inc. was a travel agency.  In 1934, the Museum of the University of Pennsylvania loaned the firm eight items from its collection of Central American relics to display.  It did not end well.  Three items, a gold sacrificial cup, two Zapotec funerary urns, and a solid gold breastplate, were displayed in the show window.  On June 5, The New York Times reported, "A stone hurled through the show window of Raymond-Whitcomb, Inc...at some time early yesterday morning, enabled a thief to obtain a rare Mayan relic worth $5,000."  The stolen relic was the sacrificial gold cup.  The stone that smashed the window also broke one of the urns.

from the collection of the New York Public Library

In October 1938, John D. Rockefeller Jr. filed plans to replace the buildings with "a new nine-story office building," as reported by The New York Times.  Something derailed those plans, however.  Two years later, Theodore Hoffstatter & Co. moved to its own newly built structure at 9 East 56th Street.  Lanz Inc., took over the lease of 668 Fifth Avenue for its clothing store.

In June 1945, Doubleday, Doran, Inc. opened a bookstore in the basement, first and second floors of 670 Fifth Avenue.  The following year, Russell Stover Candies took over the first and second floors next door.  

The Doubleday book shop was the scene of a raid on August 8, 1946.  Responding to a complaint by the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice, four plainclothes detectives entered and "removed 130 copies of Edmund Wilson's book of short stores, 'Memoirs of Hecate County,'" as reported by The New York Times.  Blotter entries at the West 54th and East 51st Street station houses called the books, "salacious and lascivious literature."  While the Society called the book "obscene," The New York Times said, "virtually all reviewers regarded it as a serious literary work."

Just before demolition in 1955, the Russell Stover signage covered the 2nd-floor show window of No. 688 and the iron cresting was gone.  Supreme Court evidence photo May 1957.

In 1955, Russell Stover Candies announced it would be moving into the Gotham Hotel.  The move was no doubt prompted by the sale of 668 and 670 Fifth Avenue for redevelopment.  On February 13, The New York Times reported that a 36-story office building designed by Carson & Lundin would replace the buildings from 52nd to 53rd Street.  Demolition of the structures began that April.  

many thanks to reader Doug Wheeler for prompting this post