With a warm, moody aesthetic and tons of old-world charm, Mansions on Fifth was an unbelievably beautiful setting for Liv and Eric's romantic wedding day! From the "blind first lool" to the warm and autumnal feel of the decor, everything about this wedding at Mansons on Fifth was entirely romantic.

My cousin recently had her wedding events held at Mansions on the Fifth in Pittsburgh, and it was like stepping into a bygone era.

In 1889 millionaire Collis P. Huntington purchased six adjoining lots on the southeast corner of Fifth Avenue and 57th Street for his second wife Arabella and commissioned architect George B. Post to build a large residence in which he could house his large collection of antiques. Huntington new what he was doing when he purchased these lots from editor Robert Bonner because the surrounding area was becoming highly fashionable, prominent residences were popping up all over the place. For example catercorner the lot was the large mansion of Cornelius Vanderbilt II, across the street was the mansion of Hermann Oelrich and sideways was the mansion of Harry Payne Whitney. Soon after they hired Post he declined on the grounds that what Arabella wanted was to large so they went to Richard Morris Hunt who declined as well saying that they should give Post another chance, finally his plans were accepted and soon was finished in 1891. The house when completed in 1891 The interiors were said to have been poorly done and it a shame that Hunt did not have a hand in it. It was so bad that writer James Maher described it as "a wayward railroad station". The plan is awkward especially the cellar plan with rooms all jumbled together. But nevertheless the Huntingtons moved in and resided there but gave rarely any parties for even though their house was large it wasn't enough to get them in society so the atmosphere tended to be very quiet. The first floor contained a large great hall that housed the art collection, a dining room, salon, reception room and library that was in a separate wing of the house. Entrance Corridor Salon Great Hall Great Hall Skylight The Grand Staircase The Dining Room In 1900 Huntington died, leaving some $15 million of his $50 million to Arabella and the Fifth Avenue mansion while some $25 million was left to his nephew Henry E. Huntington. Arabella started buying major amounts of artwork with the large fortune she had been left and filled the Fifth Avenue mansion with artwork that was much more better and extremely more expensive than what she had bought before. Arabella became so enraptured with art that she even bought a hotel in Paris just to fill it with her artwork. In 1913 Arabella shocked everyone by marrying Henry, which reunited the Huntington fortune. Henry was know as a big spender and built a huge estate in San Marino, California to entice Arabella to move out west. She rarely went out there and only to oversee construction, she much more liked to live in New York and Paris and never visited the house. Arabella spent most of her time in the New York Mansion while Henry lived in California. By 1920 they were practically separated. Meanwhile commercial invasion continued in New York. By 1923 nearly every residential property surrounding the mansion had been demolished except for The Three residences behind Arabella, the two middle ones belonging to William Waldorf the end one belonging to H. Storr Wells The Cornelius Vanderbilt II mansion now occupied by his widow Alice And the Hermann Oelrich mansion which was now a bank. Sadly, though, in 1924 Arabella died in the mansion on September 14. Three years lather the mansion was demolished and replaced with Tiffany & Co. and New York City lost another one of it's Gilded Age mansions. *Note all photos of the interior come from American Architect and Building the rest come from the Museum of the City of New York

Why are the mansions of one of America’s richest women sitting vacant? Follow this photo narrative of the reclusive Huguette Clark, her father, Senator William Andrews Clark, and their lives of wealth, scandal and mystery. Msnbc.com's Bill Dedman reports.

One of the great narratives of American history — immigration — through the experiences of the Irish. We just reedited and reworked our 2017 show on Irish immigration in time for St. Patrick’s Day and a celebration of all things Irish! So much has changed in our world since 2017 and this history feels more… Read More

This mega palace on fifth avenue belong to Andrew Carnegie and his wife Louise. Andrew Carnegie was called the "Steel King" and owned Car...

photo from Fifth Avenue New York City, 1911 (copyright expired) William W. and Thomas M. Hall were prolific developers at the turn of the last century. At a time when millionaires were lining Fifth Avenue across from Central Park with lavish palaces, the brothers joined the trend with speculative residences that held their own among the custom-designed mansions. In 1899 they purchased the plot at 987 Fifth Avenue, just south of 80th Street, and commissioned the firm of Welch, Smith & Provot to design an opulent townhouse. The $86,000 purchase price of the lot was evidence of the exclusive nature of the neighborhood. It would equal about $2.6 million today. In the meantime, a remarkable story had played out in the Midwest. William B. Leeds was born in Indiana in 1856. The New-York Tribune would later say of him, "His parents were poor and he made his first business venture in a very humble role--that of florist in his native town of Richmond." In 1883, following his marriage to Jeanette Irene Gaar, the daughter of a Richmond banker, he was given a job with the Pennsylvania Railroad by a relative of his new wife. In an astonishing Horatio Alger-worthy story, while working as a train conductor Leeds met and became friends with Daniel G. Reid who had a similar job on the railroad. Within a few years the two young men left the railroad, pooled their savings, and purchased the controlling interest in a small tin plate mill in Richmond. Energetic, ambitious and resourceful, they grew their business, acquiring more and more mills until they had formed the American Tin Plate Company which dominated the industry. In 1901, the partners sold their corporation to the United States Steel Company for $46 million (about $1.3 billion today). Leeds and Reid both returned to the railroads--now as controlling owners and executives of several lines. Like his partner, William B. Leeds moved to New York City. He had obtained a divorce in 1900 and, as reported by the New-York Tribune, "soon after Mr. Leeds married Mrs. Nannie May Stewart Worthing, also of Richmond, who had obtained a divorce from her husband, George Worthington." The implication of extra-marital dalliance was clear. His son by his first marriage, Rudolph, was sent off to the exclusive Phillips Andover Academy in Massachusetts. Now William shopped for a new home, what The Virginia Enterprise deemed on April 19, 1901 "a gift for his bride." That gift was No. 987 Fifth Avenue. In March he paid W. W. & T. M. Hall $260,000 for the new mansion--more than $7.5 million in today's dollars. The architects had produced a five story bowed-front confection of brick and limestone. Its Beaux Arts facade was frosted with fussy French inspired decorations--broken pediments, garlanded cartouches, and iron window railings. A stone balcony with wrought iron railings girded the fifth floor. It along with the heavy bracketed cornice and crown-like balustrade gave the mansion a somewhat top-heavy appearance. Rather surprising to some society columnists, Nonnie (familiarly known as Nancy) managed to slip into fashionable circles rather quickly. On December 10, 1903 The Saint Paul Globe rather meanly wrote "Another member has been admitted to the ultra-fashionable set. The newest 'arrival' is Mrs. William B. Leeds, the wife of the tinplate millionaire. Mrs. Leeds forced her entry through the Long Island set, and, thanks to the Belmont family, she was introduced to every one worth while...Two years ago the second Mrs. Leeds did not exist for the New York set. When Mr. and Mrs. Leeds settled in the house in No. 987 Fifth avenue, her neighbors said: 'Who, pray, is Mrs. Leeds, anyway?' Nonnie "Nancy" Leeds - original source unknown The catty columnist continued, "But Mrs. Leeds did not unbend and the neighbors saw a correctly gowned and graceful young woman going to and from her splendid victoria. In Palm Beach last spring she put forth her claim as candidate for the right set. Her husband is said to be worth $30,000,000 and this was her passport." The neighbors included Hugh A. Murray (left), William J. Curtis next door, and the twin mansions of brothers Irving and Horace Brokaw. from Fifth Avenue New York City, 1911 (copyright expired) Nancy entertained lavishly in her new home and in the summer estate William leased on Long Island. Her charm won over socially important women like Mrs. George Gould, Mrs. Henry H. Flagler and Mrs. Perry Belmont. The Saint Paul Globe said "soon Mrs. Leeds was seen motoring with Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt Jr., and coaching with the Whitneys." The Indianapolis Journal described her as "petite, with very delicate features. She dresses remarkably well, prefers tints rather than colors, and is an extremely dainty figure in organdie or any light fabrics." While Nancy was busy edging her way into high society, her husband focused on spending money. On February 10, 1902 he launched his new 261-foot yacht the Norma, named for Nonnie. The vessel, which cost him $500,000, had electric lighting and heating, and telegraph. The Evening World reported that each of the vessel's eight state rooms had its own bath. "A very elegant library extends the full width of the ship. Galley, pantry, dining-room and smoking-room are situated in the main deck-house. The women's sitting room is on the shade deck." Leeds "elegant quarters" included a private office, state-room and bath. Even though Leeds already owned a country home in Lakewood, New Jersey, in February 1902 he paid Thomas F. Young $200,000 for 400-acres near Theodore Roosevelt's Sagamore Hill in Oyster Bay, Long Island. The Evening World reported "Mr. Leeds intends to build a large country place in the fashionable colony." The Music Room is pictured above. Below is the Dining Room with its stained glass windows, beamed ceiling and highly unusual marble mantel. photographer unknown from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York In the meantime, young Reginald had managed to spark a news story that was reported across the country. In the fall of 1902 both William and Nancy were ill. While she rested in the Fifth Avenue mansion, William went to Hot Springs, Arkansas late in September to recuperate. Sixteen-year old Rudolph read with interest the reports on the ongoing coup in Columbia. In mid September he slipped away from his prep school "to help General Uribe-Uribe overthrow the government there," according to the Iowa newspaper the Evening Times-Republican. The teen managed to get to Colon, where he purchased a ticket for Panama. But by now his father had learned of his adventure. Leeds contacted the American Consul General at Panama, H. A. Gudger, who was waiting when the train arrived. "So when Mr. Leeds, full of martial enthusiasm, left the train and approached the first native who looked like a rebel, asking to be directed to the nearest camp, he was promptly captured by Mr. Gudger." Reginald was packed onto the next steamship to New York. William's masculine library (above) was a contrast to Nancy's very French "salon." photographer unknown from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York Reginald had a new half brother at the time. William B. Leeds, Jr. was born on September 19, 1902. Nancy redid one room of the mansion into a "playroom," a boy-cave that would make even an Astor or Vanderbilt child envious. One end of little William's playroom shows shelves for toys which, when carefully put away, could be hidden behind curtains. photographer unknown from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York A large staff of servants meant that motherhood did not interrupt Nancy's social calendar. In February 1903 she took a risk which was sure to make the social columns when she planned a benefit "winter garden party" on Lincoln's Birthday at the Lakewood estate. The New-York Tribune, on February 8, asked "What will happen in the event that a blizzard should chance to come, is of course a question, but the plan is to have a corps of young women in summer gowns and shade hats serve at tea tables among the trees on the lawn, while other summery young ladies wander about among the throng selling home-made candy, cake and valentines, and fancy and useful articles." That summer, while the Oyster Bay house was being constructed, the Leeds summered in fashionable Saratoga. The Indianapolis Journal noted that Nancy "has already made many friends at Saratoga...among her friends are Mrs. Sydney Smith, Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Oliver H. P. Belmont." William Leeds was operated on for appendicitis that year. He seemed to have come through the procedure with no problems; but then on December 3, 1905 The New York Times reported that he "is suffering from partial paralysis as a result of an operation for appendicitis performed two years ago." The newspaper insisted, however, that "his condition was not serious and he was not even confined to his bed." Leeds recovered, but it was obvious that the paralysis was not a result of his operation, but a stroke. William and Nancy continued to broaden their social horizons, including buying the former Frederick W. Vanderbilt cottage, Rough Point, in Newport for half a million dollars. But Leeds's health problems continued. Towards the end of 1906 he suffered another stroke which again resulted in partial paralysis. He traveled to Paris to consult a specialist. (While her husband recuperated, Nancy went shopping, spending $340,000 on pearls at the Paris jewelry shop of Bernard Citroen.) After about a year in France, the Leeds returned to New York in November 1907. Two weeks later William suffered yet another stroke. Once again his condition was downplayed in the press. The New-York Tribune, on November 24, assured "The physicians who attended Mr. Leeds said that quiet and rest for a few days would put him in shape again." William, Nancy and little William returned to Paris. On the morning of June 23, 1908 the 52-year old died in their suite in the Hotel Ritz. The New-York Tribune mentioned "Intimate friends in Paris to-day estimated his wealth at $35,000,000. Four days later a funeral was held in Holy Trinity Church, "the American Church in Paris," according to the New-York Tribune. The newspaper noted "Many prominent Americans were present." On July 1 Leeds's casket was taken aboard the German steamship Kronprinz Wilhelm. It arrived in New York on July 7 and the following afternoon a second funeral was held in the Fifth Avenue mansion. William B. Leeds A National Register of the Society, Sons of the American Revolution, 1902 (copyright expired) William's will left nearly his entire estate to Nancy and William, Jr. Rudolph, now 22 years old and married, received $1 million--a relative sliver of the total which prompted The Richmond Palladium to opine "It would surprise none of Mr. Leeds' friends if the proceedings for probate were followed by a spirited contest." But Rudolph accepted his father's decision, saying "The will of my father has been read and I am perfectly familiar with its contents. The provisions of this will are entirely satisfactory to me." Following her period of mourning, Nancy resumed her social life. She sent William Jr. to the New Jersey estate where he attended the Montclair Academy. He was reportedly surrounded by a staff of 20 servants and was escorted everywhere by two private detectives. The six-year old had his own chauffeur and footman. Nancy spent less and less time at No. 987 Fifth Avenue. On January 1, 1911 The Sun reported "Mrs. William B. Leeds now has a home in London. Few American hostesses have entertained so elaborately as she since the end of her period of mourning allowed her to give parties. She has been welcomed there with a cordiality that indicates that she will probably find it to her taste to live there permanently." Later that year, in July, The Sun mentioned that Rough Point "has been closed most of the time." But it was rumored that Nancy would make a brief appearance in Newport. "The expectation is now that Mrs. William B. Leeds will spend a few weeks at the resort. She has a home in London and has taken a place in Scotland." By the time of that article Nancy had sold No. 987 to Walter Lewisohn. In reporting on the sale the Record & Guide pointed out that the Leeds had spent about $70,000 in "interior decorations and alterations." The New York Times added "Although the house was magnificently fitted up by the Halls, Mr. Leeds added a marble hall and staircase and refitted the interior." Included in the $350,000 sale price was "a portion of the furniture collected abroad by Mr. Leeds," said the Record & Guide. photographer unknown, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York As a side note, Nancy married Prince Christopher of Greece in 1920, becoming Princess Anastasia of Greece and Denmark. While visiting his mother the following year William met the 17-year old Princess Xenia of Greece. Within 24 hours they were engaged, causing Nancy to weep for three days and nights, according to reports. Walter Lewisohn and his wife, the former Selma Kraus, had one son, Walter, Jr. Lewisohn was 31 years old when he purchased No. 987. The Yale-educated broker was also vice-president and director of the Salt Lake Copper Co., an officer in the Tennessee Copper Co. and the Lewisohn Exploration & Mining Co., and a partner in the firm of banking firm Lewisohn Brothers. The Lewisohns maintained a summer estate new Eatontown, New Jersey. Selma's entertainments in the Fifth Avenue house were often grand, like the dance and supper she gave on Tuesday, January 27, 1914. The entrance hall (above) and the first floor landing photographer unknown from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York Walter and Selma were drawn into a murder investigation in 1920. They had dinner with Joseph Bowne Elwell and Selma's sister, Viola Kraus, on June 10 at the Ritz-Carlton Roof, then attended the midnight show at the New Amsterdam Theatre. After the show everyone went their separate ways. The following morning Elwell was found in the front hall of his home with a bullet hole in his head. On June 14 the Lewisohns, Viola and her estranged husband were taken to the Elwell house for questioning. The were released without suspicion; however the taint of the investigation remained for years. The case was never solved. Shortly afterward Lewisohn suffered heavy losses in the stock market. It was all too much for him to handle and on May 22, 1923 Selma committed him to the Blythewood Sanitarium for the Insane in Greenwich, Connecticut. With her income gone and the Lewisohn fortune greatly depleted, Selma took to the operatic concert stage as Mme. Marie Selma. She sold No. 987 to Elizabeth Carmichael in 1920 for $375,000. Carmichael leased the furnished house to wealthy tenants like Colonel John F. Daniell, charging $40,000 a year. But following the Stock Market crash, she lost it in foreclosure to the Franklin Savings Bank in May 1933. After it sat vacant for more than five years, the bank sold the mansion in December 1939. Writing in The New York Times, Lee E. Cooper said the old residence "has joined the long list of fine old Manhattan homes which are marked for early demolition." But it received a reprieve of sorts, instead being converted to three- and four-room apartments within the year. By the time No. 987 was sold again in 1959 the balustrade was gone and a sixth floor had appeared, set back on the roof. Rather surprisingly it survived for nearly a decade. Then, on January 31, 1968 The Times announced that the three old mansions at Nos. 985, 986 and 987 Fifth Avenue had been purchased by developer Bernard Spitzer. Within the year the once elegant homes were gone, replaced by the 25-story 985 Fifth Avenue. Among the building's most visible residents was the builder's son, New York Governor Eliot Spitzer.

In the first years of the 20th century, the Flagler mansion (far left) sat next door to an elegant clubhouse -- NYPL Collection By 188...

By the last decade of the 19th century, the booming population of Greenwich Village required increased fire protection. In 1891 the city purchased the old rooming house at No. 132 West 10th Street as the site of a new firehouse for Engine Company 18. N. LeBrun & Sons was responsible for the design. Since 1879 Napoleon LeBrun had been designing all of New York City’s fire houses—around 40 of them so far. For this narrow firehouse he turned, mostly, to understated Romanesque Revival. The first floor was composed of rough-cut stone blocks surrounding a cast iron frame for the double wooden truck doors. Above, orange brick was highlighted by terra cotta, with stone trim at the window openings. LeBrun creatively used brown-orange terra cotta tiles, looking much like Lego blocks laid on end, to create handsome pseudo quoins along the sides and an outline above the arched windows of the third floor. Two large foliate terra cotta disks, like sunbursts, embellished the top floor and an elaborately-decorated cornice announced the influence of the new Classicist movement. Engine Company 18 moved into the completed building in 1892. Its horse-drawn engines would be seen speeding through Village streets for decades; often narrowly avoiding street cars, pedestrians and other vehicles. A tender, like the one above, carried John J. Harvey on the outside step in 1907. In the center of West 10th Street can be seen the tracks of the street car that caused so much trouble. (Note that the left bay door seems to slide open, rather than swing.) photo from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York On September 29, 1907 one such run nearly cost fireman John J. Harvey his life. Harvey was riding on the step of the tender, or hose wagon, on way to an alarm at Washington and Christopher Streets. The tender was just behind the speeding engine and both trucks were clanging their bells. In the meantime, motorman Frederick W. Unkelman was running his streetcar along 10th Street without slowing or stopping for the emergency vehicles. Finally, at Washington Street, he paused long enough avoid a collision with the engine; but as it passed he started up again. “When the tender came tearing along in the wake of the engine the driver had great difficulty in steering through the narrow space between the curb and the car. His horses barely got through, but the car, keeping on, swung still more out over the roadway and struck the wagon broadside,” reported the New-York Tribune. The collision knocked Harvey off his feet and his legs and feet smashed through the streetcar windows. “He pluckily held on until the tender cleared the car,” said the newspaper. “With the worst of the danger over, he dropped to the street and stooped to pick up his hat, but then his strength gave way and he toppled over unconscious.” The motorman was arrested and, ironically, the call turned out to be a false alarm. In a training exercise, a trusting fireman prepares to jump from the second story into a net held by his fellow firefighters. -- photo from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York Earlier that year, in February, Engine Company 18 had responded to a call that was most definitely not a false alarm. Nearby the old Tracy & Russell Brewery building at 11th Street and Greenwich Avenue caught fire. It was now being occupied by the Manhattan Screw and Stamping Company and the lunchtime blaze spread rapidly. Most of the 300 employees were out at lunch, and those left in the building were able to escape. But the growing inferno was dangerously close to Grammar School 41 with its 1,400 little girl pupils, and the House of Calvary on Perry Street near Greenwich Avenue, a cancer hospital. Engine Company 18 worked feverishly to keep the flames from spreading, as the crowds of terrified little girls were led from their school building. “The fight to keep the flames from reaching the cancer hospital was long and hard,” reported The New York Times. “Three firemen, under the direction of Capt. Roach…were overcome while clinging to the fire escapes and training streams of water on the flames that constantly menaced the walls of the House of Calvary. They quickly revived and returned to the fight.” The one hundred horses in the stables on the first floor of the burning building were rescued; but in the end the building was in ruins—a loss of about $100,000. The company’s sterling reputation came into play during the visit of Raoul Frere, the head of the Paris Fire Department in August 1910. He spent a week studying the operations of the New York City Fire Department and told reporters that “the New York firemen were ahead of those in London and the big European cities.” On August 19, after being escorted by Engine Company 18’s Captain Howard Rusch to observe night court, the French fire chief came back to West 10th Street. Here he “and remained there all night in order to answer all alarms with the apparatus,” said the New-York Tribune. The unit responded not only to nearby emergencies, but traveled across town when necessary. Such was the case on Saturday March 25, 1911 when the Asch Building caught fire. Home to the Triangle Shirt Waist factory, the fire would result in one of America’s worst industrial tragedies with 146 fatalities. The female workers trapped in the burning 10-story building panicked and scores threw themselves to their deaths. One young fireman from Engine Company 18 later told reporters that his first image “was a man’s body come crashing down…We turned into Greene Street and began to stretch in our hoses. The bodies were hitting all around us.” The first two decades of the 20th century were plagued with terrorist attacks by anarchist groups like the Black Hand. Business buildings and even apartment houses were targeted for bombings; one of which was thwarted by a quick-thinking Engine Company 18 fireman in 1910. Joseph Halpin, on leave of absence, was passing a building when he noticed a small fire. He entered only to find the structure was filling with gas from open lighting jets. He blew out a lighted candle that was connected to a blasting fuse which led to a bomb filled with gunpowder. The terrorist, Andrea Galasso, had attempted to level the structure. He was sentenced to Sing Sing Prison for four and a half years. Fireman Halpin received a medal from Mayor Gaynor. By the roaring 1920s Greenwich Village was not just the center of bohemian cafes and tea houses; it was still a close-knit neighborhood of families and children. The firehouse on West 10th Street was a familiar summer haunt of the youngsters who “come to the engine house in their bathing suits to prance under the street showers,” said the New-York Tribune in 1921. That was the year that the firemen had an idea. The members pooled $50 of their own money to purchase materials and five firemen—Engineer Patrick Vak and Firemen Peter Brennan, Patrick Foley, Dennis Collins and Joseph Lally—designed and built a “portable swimming tank” for the children. The Tribune said “The tank is an elaborate affair made of wood, with steps leading to the top of it and slides to carry the kids into the water. It is set on wheels and it is planned to be rolled under the shower.” The “perambulating running water swimming tank” was a hit and by the end of July the Tribune reported that “many hundreds of children daily” used the pool. And so the adults wanted to get into the act. Engineer Frank Patzak told reporters on July 24 “We already have a good many women and girl bathers. They appear for their shower baths after the kiddies have all been tucked into bed…We have had a heavy demand from adults for use of the big tank between 10 and 12 at night.” So the firehouse hosted “grown-ups’ evening” on July 26, 1921 and “the whole of Greenwich Village was expected to take a splash,” said the Tribune. “Most of the inhabitants did turn out, but they came as spectators.” Crowds jammed West 10th Street hoping to glimpse flappers in their bathing attire. “Four young women appeared in bathing suits and splashed in the water for a while, but before their frolic was over the spectators had found the well-advertised spectacle rather tame, and flocked back to the underground tearooms.” All the publicity caused Fire Captain James Simms to shut down the swimming tank, even for children. When 400 neighborhood children showed up, they were told there would be no more swimming. A meeting of parents was called, appealing to Fire Commissioner Drennan “asking for immediate restoration of the tank,” and "hundreds of children staged protests.” “The shouting of the children’s chantey, ‘We want our tank’ to the tune of a hymn with which all the little Italians and other children of foreign born in the districted appeared to be familiar, drew hundreds of persons to the locality,” reported the New-York Tribune on August 1. “When the youngsters were ordered to move on by patrolmen they formed a line and paraded in bathing suits timing their steps to the monotonous repetition of 'We want our tank.’ The manifestation of juvenile displeasure lasted until late in the evening.” As it turned out, the children did not get their tank back and things returned to normal at Engine Company 18. On October 18, 1966 the Engine Company responded to a particularly lethal blaze on West 22nd Street and Broadway. It would be the darkest day for the company to date. The old converted brownstone buildings were engulfed, necessitating a response from not only Company 18, but Engine Company 5, Ladder Company 7 and Ladder Company 2. While the fire fighters struggled with the blaze, the cellar was becoming an inferno, unbeknownst to the crews inside. At the last minute a cry of “get out, get out” was raised, but it was too late. “All at once, with a thunderous crash, a 20-by-5-foot section of floor gave way. There was a burst of flame that rolled along the ceiling of the drugstore and flared out into the street,” said The New York Times. In the worst disaster in the Fire Department’s history, twelve firefighters were killed that night. Of the seven members of Engine Company 18 to respond to the blaze, only two returned; Fireman John Donovan who arrive d late, and Fireman Manuel Fernandez who was connecting hoses in the street. In 1976 the country was taken with renewed patriotism as the nation’s bicentennial was celebrated. For its part Engine Company 18 painted its baydoor—now a single garage-type door that replaced the originals—with a remarkable mural depicting a fire engine heading forward along a red, white and blue path. The vibrant, colorful mural became a Village landmark and the City of New York budgets funds each year for the restoration and preservation of the urban artwork. As terrorism and the threat of hazardous materials attacks grew, the City responded by increasing its specialized units trained in handling hazardous materials and weapons of mass destruction. On July 1, 1998 Engine Company 18 was designated Squad Company 18. It would not be long before the new squad’s training and expertise would be called upon. The tragedy of the fatal 1966 fire was surpassed on September 11, 2001 when terrorists flew airliners into the World Trade Towers. Eight brave men from Engine Company 18 who rushed to the aid of the innocent civilians targeted in the mindless attack were lost. LeBrun’s handsome firehouse is little changed since it opened in 1892. It is a familiar Village landmark that has seen joy and tragedy and, briefly, a few women in bathing suits. contemporary photographs taken by the author

Here is a guide to the Gilded Age mansions on 5th Avenue, both those still standing and those lost.

Hi, all! Welcome to the fifth week, and the fifth quilt, of the Stunning Stars Quilt-Along! It's been a wild ride so far, and it's so e...

Randolph Guggenheimers white marble mansion at Fifth Ave New York circa Designed by Robert Maynicke Fifth floor loggia with caryatids - architecture, randolph, guggenheimers, white, marble, mansion, fifth, york, circa, designed, robert, maynicke, floor, loggia, caryatids. Photorator photo.

This mega palace on fifth avenue belong to Andrew Carnegie and his wife Louise. Andrew Carnegie was called the "Steel King" and owned Car...

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=24UAYWBANI5H&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915 On October 10, 1884 Louis Stern spent $57,000 for the 27-foot wide lot on Fifth Avenue between 80th and 81st Streets. The president of the Stern Brothers Department Store had by now amassed a large fortune. The mansion he envisioned for the site would hold its own with those of Manhattan’s wealthiest citizens which were rapidly rising along the Avenue across from Central Park. Born in Germany in 1847, his family later emigrated to Albany. Although his father took the three oldest brothers, Isaac, Bernard and Benjamin into his jewelry and watch-making business; he sent Louis to West Virginia to learn merchandising in the store of an uncle. Feeling he had mastered the fundamentals of running a store, the 20-year old Louis proposed to his brothers that they open a store in Manhattan. Their small shop, Stern Brothers, opened on Sixth Avenue and 22nd Street in March 1867. Within the year they outgrew the space and leased additional floors; eventually taking over the entire building. By the time Louis bought his Fifth Avenue building plot, the Stern brothers were among the most successful merchants in the city. In addition he was a director of the Bank of New Amsterdam, Madison Safe Deposit Company of New York, New Amsterdam Safe Deposit Company of New York, Mutual Life Insurance Company and President of the Library Square Realty Company. One year after the purchase, on October 24, 1885 the Real Estate Record & Builders’ Guide reported “Louis Stern’s house on Fifth avenue, between Eighty-first and Eighty-second streets, will in a few months be ready for occupancy.” The Sterns’s architect of choice, William Schickel, produced a French Gothic-inspired structure that was what contemporary newspapers would deem “an ornament” on the Avenue. A virtual palace, its majestic stone stoop led to the bronze and glass entrance doors. Four stories high above the basement, it featured intricate carvings, a dramatic oriel that supported a stone-balustraded balcony, and a mansard embellished with ornate dormers and cresting. The entrance hall was floored and paneled in marble. 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=24UAYWBANI5H&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915 Entertainments in the mansion often centered around music. On January 30, 1894 Ida Loewenstein Stern scored a social coup. She obtained the internationally-renowned operatic soprano, Emma Calve, to sing in her drawing room. “Mlle. Calve’s first appearance at a private residence was made yesterday afternoon at a reception given at the house of Mrs. Louis Stern, 933Fifth avenue,” said The Evening World the following day. “Her wonderful singing delighted a large number of prominent society people who were present. “The reception was thoroughly enjoyable and the memory of it will long linger in the minds of the guests who had the pleasure of being present.” Ida’s reception preceded a dinner catered by Sherry’s, during which the guests were soothed by “delightful music…furnished by the celebrated Hungarian Band.” The marble-walled conservatory featured a stained glass ceiling and windows -- 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=24UAYWBANI5H&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915 Louis took over as host from his wife on February 16, 1901 when he gave a lavish dinner in honor of Governor B. B. Odell, Jr. The list of distinguished guests included the Lieutenant Governor, senators, generals, judges and wealthy merchants. In reporting on the dinner, The New York Times described the dining room. “The oval-shaped dining room of Mr. Stern’s handsome residence, where the dinner was served, is too ornate, both in architectural design and permanent embellishment, to admit of much decoration without marring rather than accentuating its beauty. The decorations, therefore, were simple. They consisted merely of American Beauty roses on the tables and American flags draped above the doorways.” Following dinner Stern escorted his guests into the adjoining art gallery. “Here, after a casual inspection of Mr. Stern’s many art treasures, they were entertained by professional musicians and elocutionists,” said The Times. For large dinners, multiple tables were brought into the dining room. 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=24UAYWBANI5H&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915 A year later 22-year old son Melville A. Stern would bring less-welcomed press attention. On February 16, 1902 he and his 19-year old friend Charles L. Lawrence though it would be great fun to race their automobiles on Jerome Avenue in the Bronx. Mounted Policemen Sturgis and Kinison were less enthusiastic. The young men were arrested and taken to the High Bridge Station where they were later bailed out. His son’s indiscretion was no doubt a great embarrassment to Louis, who was President of the Hebrew Orphan Asylum, member of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the American Museum of National History, the American Geographical Society and other such esteemed groups. The wedding of daughter Irma to Baron Leo de Graffenried was held in the house on the evening of December 10, 1907. “The Louis XIV ballroom, decorated with palms and lilies, was used for the occasion,” reported the New-York Tribune. “At the eastern end of the room was an improvised chancel of lilies-of-the-valley and white roses, with a background of palms. The halls and drawing rooms were decorated with palms and cut flowers.” Despite the beautiful setting and the Irma’s socially-enviable match to a royal title; the wedding raised eyebrows. There were necessarily two ceremonies because Irma was Jewish and the baron was Roman Catholic. A week before the marriage, the Rabbi of Fifth Avenue’s Temple Emanu-El, the Rev. Dr. J. L. Magnes, was moved to use it as the topic of his lesson to the congregation. The Tribune reported “there was something of a sensation created in the Jewish society because of the fact that Miss Irma Stern, daughter of Louis Stern, who is a trustee of the temple, is engaged to marry a Roman Catholic baron.” The Rabbi called intermarriage “a menace to Jews.” On July 1, 1911 the American Brewers’ Review reported that “Mrs. Hugo Reisinger of New York has received as a gift from her father, Adolphus Busch of St. Louis, a beautiful residence at 993 Fifth avenue, New York. It was bought of Louis Stern, who some time ago refused an offer of $900,000 for it.” The New York Times called it “the largest sale of a Fifth Avenue residence that has occurred in some time. The house is one of the finest on the avenue.” The $1 million price tag that Stern had put on the residence would translate to about $24 million today. The Evening World reported that he settled for a bit less. “He had held the property at an even million, but the price paid was under $900,000.” The Times commented on the Reisigners’s esteemed neighbors—Frank W. Woolworth’s mansion sat on the 80th Street corner and the mansion owned by George Ehret on the 81st. Unlike most rooms in the mansion, Hugo's library was decidedly masculine -- 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=24UAYWBANI5H&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915 Hugo Reisinger filled the mansion with his extensive collection of art. On the walls hung works by Whistler, Carl Melchers and Childe Hassam; as well as European artists like Menzel, Zuegel and Boecklin. The Reisinger ballroom doubled as art gallery. 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=24UAYWBANI5H&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915 The New York Times would say of him “As an art expert and connoisseur Hugo Reisginer had an international reputation, and he was the first to make a representative collection of modern American art for exhibit in Germany.” The year before the family moved into the Fifth Avenue house, he exhibited his collection of 200 American paintings and “a few etchings” at the Prussian Royal Academy in Berlin, and later in Munich. Reisinger’s purpose in the exhibition was, in his words, “to prove to German artists and art lovers that the modern American school of painting is the peer of any of its European contemporaries.” On the other side of the coin, Reisinger wanted Americans to be acquainted with German literature. He was actively involved in the publication of German classics of the 19th and 20th centuries in English “which he hoped would also result in creating a better understanding between the two nations,” said The Times. Edmee Reisinger's parlor was furnished in French antiques -- 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=24UAYWBANI5H&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915 Three years after moving into No. 993 Fifth Avenue Reisinger, his wife Edmee Busch Reisinger, and his mother-in-law went to Europe as they did every spring. The trip was a combination of pleasure and business. Their scheduled return was delayed by the war and was pushed back to October 11, 1914. Hugo would not make the return trip alive. On September 19 The New York Times reported “Hugo Reisinger, art collector and merchant at 11 Broadway, is dead at Langeschwalbach, near Wiesbaden, Germany, where he was born Jan. 29, 1856.” Reisinger was just 58 years old. On September 7, 1916 Walter B. Reisinger was married to Elizabeth Chalmers. The Brewers’ Journal and Barley, Malt and Hop Trades’ Reporter said “After the wedding the happy young couple will go to Sulphur Springs and California, and when they have returned from their honeymoon they will reside at No. 993 Fifth avenue, New York City.” The war in Europe would continue to cause problems for the Reisinger family. In 1917 The New York World reported that portions of Hugo Reisinger’s will were still held up. “Some of his bequests, as reduced, were $41,295 each to the Royal National Museum of Berlin and the Neue Pinakothek of Munich, and $20,647 to the City of Wiesbaden for a fountain. Other bequests were made to public institutions of Germany and America.” A telegram from Washington said “The executors of Hugo Reisinger of New York will not be able to pay any legacies to German citizens, corporations of Government institutions during the war if such payment requires the transmission of money or credits to Germany.” The delay of Reisinger’s intended benefactions was a minor inconvenience compared to the embarrassment Edmee would suffer through the activities of a servant. The United States Secret Service was faced in 1917 with what the Colonist deemed, on May 16 “one of the mysteries of the European war—namely, how the Kaiser in Berlin could communicate almost daily with Count von Bernstorff, one-time German Ambassador in Washington.” The newspaper said the puzzle was solved when Secret Service Chief William J. Flynn sent agents to No. 993 Fifth Avenue. “The secret service agents had information that Mrs. Reisinger, whose father was Adolphus Busch, the wealthy brewer of St. Louis, had a wireless plant at her home, and that Mrs. Reisinger had often received in her home Count von Bernstorff, Dr.Heinrich Albert, Germany’s commercial attaché, and Captains Karl Boyed and Franz von Papen, naval and military attaches respectively.” Edmee Reisinger was doubtlessly mortified when “Investigation showed that for more than a year a receiving station for radio messages had been established on the roof of the Reisinger home…This plant, it seems, was of an exceedingly costly and powerful variety, and was equipped with the so-called De Forest audian detector, which is necessary for receiving messages from such a long distance as Nauen, Germany, the site of the Emperor’s wonderful radio station." According to Edmee, the equipment had been secreted in by her butler, Alexander Kagan. As soon as she became aware of it she ordered it dismantled. As for Kagan, “He recently resigned his position as butler and departed to parts unknown,” said the Colonist. Expectedly, Edmee was forced to suffer suspicion and indignation. Nearly a year later she was questioned for two hours by Charles De Woody, local head of the Department of Justice. She arrived at his Park Row office wearing a dark veil over her face. Following the session her lawyer told reporters “I do not think there is anything to be said in this matter for it is nothing more than an unpleasant incident. Mrs. Reisinger has unfortunately been imposed upon by this man.” The Sun would later report “To Mrs. Reisinger, whose own fortune is estimated at about $10,000,000, a clean bill of health is apparently given…as far as pro-German leanings are concerned.” When a parade for returning American soldiers was being planned in March 1919, Edmee showed her support. “Mrs. Hugo Reisinger reported that she was building a stand at 993 Fifth Avenue for the use of 100 wounded soldiers from Embarkation Hospital No. 3,” said The New York Times on March 20. On August 23, the following year Edmee married Charles E. Breenough in Little Boar’s Head, New Hampshire. The Yale Alumni Weekly announced “They are living at 993 Fifth Avenue, New York City.” Two weeks before the wedding Edmee sold the house and her three-story garage at No. 245 West 68th Street to the C. & W. Realty Corporation. She had no intention of moving out, however. The New-York Tribune reported that “Simultaneously there was a lease recorded by which the new owning company leases both properties back to the seller ‘from August 9, 1920, until six months after the death of the tenant.’” Edmee would pay $18,000 rent per year on the house and garage—about $16,500 a month today. The New-York Tribune called the house at the time “one of the largest in the section.” Edmee and Charles lived on in the mansion where functions continued--like the christening of granddaughter Gloria Reisinger on May 4, 1922. But in 1924 the owner, C. & W. Realty Company, hinted at its intentions for the property when it purchased the real estate next door from George Ehret. “It is understood that the buyers will offer the plot as an apartment site and that negotiations are not pending for a resale,” said The New York Times on December 17. The developers would have to wait, however. Edmee and Charles would remain in the house for another five years. Then on September 25, 1929 The Times reported that plans had been filed for “a sixteen-story apartment house, containing simplex and duplex apartments and penthouse.” Now only the stubborn mansion built for Mary A. King remained on the block. The tall building at center replaced the Stern house and some 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=24UAYWBANI5H&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915 The lavish mansion erected by Louis Stern had survived 45 years. The upscale apartment house that replaced it and the mansion next door at No. 992 still stands.

Original watercolor painting of the Duke Mansion on 5th Avenue, NYC. Size: 9" x 12" "The Benjamin N. Duke House, also the Duke–Semans Mansion and the Benjamin N. and Sarah Duke House, is a mansion at 1009 Fifth Avenue, at the southeast corner with 82nd Street, on the Upper East Side of Manhattan in New York City. It was built between 1899 and 1901 and was designed by the firm of Welch, Smith & Provot. The house, along with three other mansions on the same block, was built speculatively by developers William W. Hall and Thomas M. Hall. The Benjamin N. Duke House is one of a few remaining private mansions along Fifth Avenue. It is a New York City designated landmark and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places."

These photos really show how much difference a century can make...

PENCIL DRAWING SHOWING VESTIBULE CONNECTING WITH 642 FIFTH AVENUE FIFTH AVENUE FROM ST. PATRICK'S CAT...

During the 1920s, humorist Rube Goldberg wrote a gag piece in the "The New Yorker" about a tourist who comes to New York. Everywhere he turns - from the docks to the Ritz, from Wall Street to a first night on Broadway - he keeps running into Otto Kahn. When Kahn finally appears on stage at two in the morning playing drums at a Harlem after hours club, the visitor loses his mind and is carted off to Bellevue. Yes, the great financier and patron of the arts, Otto Kahn (1867-1934), was the inspiration for Parker Brothers' Mr. Monopoly. Here he is in recognizable mode, tossing greenbacks. Kahn made a fortune as a partner in Kuhn Loeb, the great underwriter of American railroads, absorbed by Lehman Brothers in 1977. Kuhn Loeb in its day was second only to the House of Morgan, but no one was second to Otto Kahn as an investment banker of skill and imagination, a bon vivant of legendary charm, and an influential patron of the arts. Kahn gave millions to the Metropolitan Opera, despite a management loath to let him buy a box because he was Jewish. (When they finally did, he refused to use it, lending it instead to important visitors). He cultivated, subsidized and/or enjoyed close personal relationships with Nijinski, Stanislavski, Toscanini, Caruso, Pavlova, not to mention Isadora Duncan, Max Reinhardt, Paul Robeson, Will Rogers, the Moscow Art Theatre and Charlie Chaplin, to name only a few. Wags of the period said he wouldn't rest until he met every important person on earth. Kahn was the beau ideal of the cultivated, cosmopolitan New York millionaire of the 1920s - immaculately dressed, immensely rich, irresistably charming, seemingly ubiquitous and profoundly influential. In 1933, Senator Ferdinand Pecora, lead counsel of the U.S. Senate hearings on the causes of the Great Depression, wrote of him, "No suaver, more fluent, and more diplomatic advocate could be conceived. If anyone could succeed in presenting the customs and functions of the private bankers in a favorable and prepossessing light, it was he." Here he is playing golf, or perhaps simply posing, possibly at a club somewhere, but more likely on the links of his private golf course at Cold Spring, Long Island. And here is the house that was attached to that course. It is called "Oheka," the name being a conjunction of Otto Herbert Kahn. Perhaps Kahn himself gave it that unsophisticated name, although absent a dependable citation I tend to doubt it. (The place is called 'Oheka Castle' today). Kahn bought the estate's original 443 acres in 1919, having soured on country living in elite Morristown, New Jersey. Upon his marriage to Addie Wolff, her father, Kuhn Loeb partner Abraham Wolff, had given the newlyweds a house there called Cedar Court. In one attempt to conciliate tiresomely chilly - read that, "anti-Semitic" - Morristown society, Kahn gave the local field club a swath of land located between his house and the club. The management was sufficiently shamed into belatedly offering him a membership, in the wake of which an ungracious club member observed that Kahn "at least had the good taste not to use it." Kahn loved his 109,000 square foot Long Island mansion, designed by Delano and Aldrich, albeit not with their usual light touch. It was the only millionaire's estate in the direct line of the Northern State Parkway to escape the earth movers, thanks to a secret contribution to one of Robert Moses' pet funds. Kahn's wife Addie, shown here in high Gilded Age feather, was a cultured product of New York's so-called "Our Crowd." She was mostly in the background during her husband's flamboyant career, devoting herself to children, charities and the acquisition of a significant art collection. The spouses of the Kahn children speak in a way to the experience of their parents. Maud married Sir John Marriott; Margaret (Nin) married John Barry Ryan; Gilbert married Elizabeth Whelan; and Roger married Hannah Williams. Kahn's city house on Fifth Avenue and 91st Street was the largest private house in Manhattan. He bought the land in 1914 from Andrew Carnegie, who lived across the street. The Kahn house is attributed to architects J. Armstrong Stenhouse and C.P.H. Gilbert. Every big old house fan knows Gilbert, whose great mansions, built for vanished heavyweights with names like Woolworth, Bache and Converse, still hunker down on the Upper East Side. Nobody, including myself and even google, seems to know much about Stenhouse. The Landmarks plaque on the wall says the house was "modeled" after the Palazzo della Cancelleria in Rome. There's a house up here in Millbrook called Migdale, which local lore insists is a "copy" of Andrew Carnegie's Skibo Castle in Scotland. In truth, no two houses could look more dissimilar. In the case of the Kahn house and the Roman palace there is clearly a resemblance - in detail and composition, if not in scale and massing. An unknown architect designed the Cancelleria for a Roman cardinal who, it is said, won the funds to build it in a single night of gambling. Our cardinals apparently had different obsessions back then. Construction started in 1486 and took almost 30 years to complete. The Cancelleria is the earliest Renaissance palace in Rome. I was invited last week on a private tour of the Kahn house by its owner, the Convent of the Sacred Heart. Otto Kahn had lived here less than sixteen years when he died of a massive heart attack in 1934. His widow sold it almost immediately to the Convent, which has operated the house as a school for girls ever since. The scaffolding that obscured it on the day of my visit is part of ongoing roof repairs. The Carnegie house across the street, more correctly called the Smithsonian Cooper Hewitt National Design Museum, is also having work done. The big difference between Kahns's and Carnegie's houses is not visible from the street. The beautiful interiors at Kahn's are virtually intact. At Carnegie's, save for a few rooms on the main floor, the heart of the place has been literally ripped out. I've wanted to see the inside of 1 East 91st St. for years, but have had neither a child in the school, nor a reason to hire one of its grand rooms as a venue. So here I go. The luxurious vehicular entrance on 91st Street allowed visitors to arrive with dignity, even in a downpour. Interestingly, the apartment house at the other end of the block has a similar entrance on 92nd St. The George Fuller Company, which built 1107 Fifth Avenue in 1925, designed that drive-in especially for E.F. Hutton. In exchange for allowing the demolition of his house on the site, Hutton got an enormous triplex at the top of the new building, connected to a Kahn-like drive-in at street level. Among the many things I like about this front door is the peep hole - just like my apartment. Here's the entrance hall, front door on the left, Jesus welcoming us on the right, a miscellaneous clutter of desks and chairs, plants and rugs, lending an air of friendly democracy. There is an elevator, of course, whose original hand painted cab is protected by sheets of lucite. How delicious that it is still here. Why take the elevator when you can ascend to the piano nobile on this stair? A vast, dark paneled dining room, currently used as a chapel, is off limits to photographers. After a quick peek, we continued into the original drawing room, located on the Fifth Avenue corner of the building. Presently in use as one of two rooms housing the school library, its brilliant original decoration is amazingly intact. This enclosed spiral staircase leads to Kahn's bedroom on the floor above. I don't know whether or not he shared it with his wife, although in an establishment of this scale, and in this period, I think it unlikely. Otto Kahn was famous for mistresses and party nights at his suite at the Ritz. It seems unlikely he would bother to sneak anybody up to his room via this staircase, although that has been suggested. The book stacks, modern tables and overhead lighting obscure the architectural grandeur of the library pictured below. The fireplace may no longer be functioning and the upholstered pieces and old masters of the Kahn days long gone, but the room remains blessedly intact. The door on the balcony also opens onto the private stair to Kahn's bedroom. Here again it's obvious that if one simply looks beyond the superimposed distractions of institutional use, Kahn's bedroom is completely intact. The headboard would have gone where that projection screen is today, facing the fireplace in the middle of the opposite wall. Beyond the windows you can just make out the Carnegie house on the other side of 91st Street. The ballroom, rechristened the Music Room, is used for school assemblies, theatricals, and as a venue for private functions. There was a time when big old houses were sold complete with sconces, chandeliers and often a good deal of original furniture, all of which was once considered to be of little or no value. That's hardly the case today. Fireplaces, paneling and sometimes even stair rails don't always make it to modern day closings. Sacred Heart's seventy-eight years of uninterrupted ownership has fortunately left in situ much that might otherwise have disappeared. As if opera and railroad reorganization weren't time consuming enough, Kahn was enamored of Hollywood as well, and deeply involved with Paramount Pictures. Here he is posing with Douglas Fairbanks and Charlie Chaplin. I assume they're posing since Chaplin probably didn't walk around like that all the time. Kahn invested in Broadway too, famously putting $10,000 into "Lady Be Good" after he heard Gershwin play "The Man I Love." He quipped at the time that he preferred investing in artistic projects with no chance of making a profit. "Lady Be Good," to his surprise, yielded a whopping return. Here he is with Enrico Caruso. Ever the music lover, Kahn reportedly once told New York City's mayor that putting a piano in every house would do more to reduce crime than having a cop on every block. The main stair rises from a landing outside the ballroom. That's yours truly resting in the middle. If there's one thing missing in the Kahn house, it's the original bathrooms. I know nobody mourns these things except me. To my eye, however, they are often as visually interesting and, in a way, even as grand as major public rooms. Too bad institutional use always dooms them. The bathrooms may be gone, but the servants' staircase and elevator are very much in existence, complete with a fabulous original copper elevator cab. The only other "below stairs" survivor I saw was this fragment of pantry cabinetwork adjacent to the dining room. It looks deceptively modern and nobody loves it much, but I'm pretty sure it's original to the house. Two floors of finely proportioned bedrooms, designed for luxury and privacy, have escaped the institutional gutting that has ruined the upper floors of the Carnegie house across the street. The original floor plan remains intact, and the preserved spaces function perfectly as classrooms and offices. Since no one has seen fit to rip down the walls, the original finishes - box locks, overdoors, fireplaces, moldings, etc., etc. - are all still here. "The pen is mightier the the sword" - an appropriate motif in a mansion converted to a school There are terraces on the roof, out of bounds last week due to the construction, and a grand central courtyard, which was getting pretty dark by the time I got there. My last stop was a small - well, small by Kahn standards - office or reception room on the first floor. Beyond the foyer was a pleasant room, against whose western wall sat the great man's desk. My guide told me it was there because no one had ever been able to get it out the door. True or not, I'm glad it's survived. Groucho Marx knew Otto Kahn too. In fact, Roscoe W. Chandler, the millionaire mark in "Animal Crackers" was a parody of Kahn, who in real life was a constant target of petitions for money. In a speech at the University of Wisconsin, Marx recalled, "I knew a fellow named Otto Kahn. His close friend was Marshall P.Wilder, who was a hunchback. One day they passed a synagogue on Fifth Avenue and Kahn turned to Wilder and said, 'You know, I used to be a Jew.' 'Really?' said Wilder. 'I used to be a hunchback.'" Otto Kahn is buried in St. John's Episcopal Cemetery in Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island.

This mega palace on fifth avenue belong to Andrew Carnegie and his wife Louise. Andrew Carnegie was called the "Steel King" and owned Carnegie Steel. When he retired he sold Carnegie Steel to J. P. Morgan for $400 million and built a beautiful estate in Scotland on 40,000 acres called "Skibo Castle". He also wanted a New York City residence so he could manage his charity ventures. Andrew planned to give away all of the $400 million, except for $10 million for his family, and he needed city headquarters to do that. So he contacted Babb, Cook & Williard to design him a 64 room georgian style mansion on fifth avenue. The floor plan is that of a typical city dwelling. gThe interiors were done in a french and georgian style The Dining Room and Study The Stair Hall The Main Hall The Library After Carnegie died his widow continued to live there until her death. It was then bought by the Cooper-Hewitt museum which still maintains it today.

Revisit the opulent Gilded Age mansions of 5th Avenue in NYC, both past and present, and discover what purpose they serve today!

The H. A. C. Taylor mansion at 3 East 71st Street Fifth Avenue is probably one of the finest homes in New York City, although it is also the least well known. It was built for millionaire Henry Augustus Coit Taylor of Newport RI., who resided in the home until his death. An Exterior View Of The Mansion, Around The Time Henry Built The Residence, A Small Garden Occupied The Adjoining Lot The Dining Room Of The Taylor Residence Was A Large And Comfortable Room, With Views Of The Garden And Street After Taylor died, his heirs sold the mansion and it was purchased by developers, who replaced the fine residence with another ugly skyscraper. A few years later, the area would become the heart of the fashionable district, with heiress Florence Twombly building a 70-room palace next door and the Blair mansion going up across the street, and the prices of lots would become very expensive, if only the Taylor heirs had waited a little longer, their father's mansion would be worth millions.

This Gilded Age mansion on the Upper East Side of New York City is on the market for $30 million—or $45 million in Bitcoin. Here's a look inside.

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