Gotham’s Gilded Age

11/21/2025

A tale of sister mansions—the James A. Bailey house in and the Chester F. Wickwire house in (both designed by Samuel B. Reed). In 1886, Bailey, of Barnum & Bailey Circus fame, decided to build a chateauesque limestone gem on the corner of 150th Street and St. Nicholas Place, which he (incorrectly) predicted would become the “Riverside Drive of Harlem.” In the end, he would only live there for a few years because his neighboring mansions kept getting bulldozed for apartment buildings. That brings us to Wickwire, an inventor and wire cloth manufacturer. Word on the street is that he saw the Bailey mansion while on a business trip and wanted one of his very own. Both feature interior designs by J.B. Tiffany (Louis Comfort Tiffany’s cousin), stained glass mosaics by Henry Belcher, and ornate hand-carved woodwork. Bailey’s mansion sold in 2009 for $1.4M (75% below asking price btw) and has been undergoing extensive renovations since then. Wickwire’s is now The 1890 House Museum 👏

📸 Wickwire from socials, Bailey from sallieslateproductions dot com.

11/17/2025

“The most beautiful suite in Harbor Hill, and certainly among the most artistic of any modern home, is that occupied by Mrs. Clarence Mackay. It is in the southwest corner of the 2nd floor, and consists of four rooms, one note of heliotrope being found in all. The anteroom is paneled in lavender brocade, with lavender velvet carpet, and its Louis XIV table and chairs are upholstered in the same shade. From this opens the boudoir—an immense room with all the palest shades of heliotrope and lavender and lilac. Walls and carpet are of these shades, and the windows are hung with heliotrope silk over lace. The east side of the room has a dais spread with ermine and set with a couch covered with mauve silk pillows. A door of small mirrors leads into the bedchamber, which is the same study in heliotrope, even to the fine silken canopy. The bathroom is carpeted with white fur. The walls are lavender paneled, but on three sides are mirrors, gilt framed. And the bath Itself, cut from a single piece of delicately veined Italian marble, is let into the floor, and four marble steps descend to it. The water falls from a dolphin's mouth and the brass towel rack is carved with dolphins. There are three tall palms in the room and a fireplace of the same marble as the bath. The toilet table is strewn with gold implements.”

ℹ️ St. Louis Republic; Aug 10, 1902
📸 ca.1902

11/16/2025

“The queen of a perfectly ordered household is, comparatively speaking, as great a diplomat as a ruler of nations. There’s an atmosphere about Harbor Hill, the charming country estate of Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Mackay at Roslyn, Long Island, which bespeaks the gentlewoman, and a harmonious responsiveness about its corps of servants which argues well for the executive system in the home.

Unquestionably, in planning every device that brains and consideration could suggest, and money could carry out, has been followed in the housing of its workers, and the home life of the servants stands out in most favorable contrast to that of servants in similar homes in England and France, where the crowded conditions are certainly a menace to all moral and physical development.

It’s not to be wondered that the mistress of Harbor Hill is loved by her entire colony of servants. It’s she who’s planned for their comfort. In spinning down the broad smooth drives of Harbor Hill, sweet with the fragrance of pines and bordered with beds of rhododendrons, one cannot help but marvel at the glorious contradiction this little colony of servants is to the too prevalent idea that servants are only downtrodden and tyrannized in the homes of the wealthy. If there are any unhappy souls here, their unhappiness is not discernible to the outsider, who almost envies the gatekeeper of Harbor Hill in his picturesque little vine-covered lodge.”

ℹ️ “The Servant Question at Harbor Hill” by Grace A. Fowler—Harper's Bazaar; Sept 1904

11/06/2025

“Hardly one of the hundreds of thousands of strangers brought by the search for pleasure or the hope of gain has failed to spend some happy hours at the Cliff House, watching the grotesque antics of the seals, dreaming of the mysterious Pacific and drinking in the wondrous beauty of this unique spot. The old Cliff House [completed in 1863] has been destroyed by fire, but the new Cliff House, built after the model of a French chateau [and completed in 1896], possesses the exquisite surroundings and the historic associations that won for its predecessor an enviable fame. For many years this portion of has been identified with the personality of one of the most original characters of the West, Adolph Sutro, the city’s present Mayor. In the seventies [the 1870s, that is 🙃] he won fame and fortune by the successful building of the Sutro Tunnel on the Comstock lode in Nevada [which provided access to deeper mineral exploration]. At a time when the best citizens of despaired of her future, Sutro settled there and, careless of forebodings, invested heavily in real estate in the business part of town and in the district alongside the ocean” [Sutro Heights by I. Tabor, 1896]

ℹ️ Although it survived the 1906 earthquake, Cliff House 2.0 suffered the same fate as its predecessor and burned down in 1907. The current neoclassical Cliff House, part of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, has been closed since 2020 but may reopen later this year. [nps.gov]

🎞️ shot by H.J. Miles on September 30, 1903, for American Mutoscope & Biograph Co.

11/01/2025

Good morning! 🌟 Did you know that you can support me by sending Stars—they help me earn money to keep making content you love.

Whenever you see the Stars icon, you can send me Stars. I appreciate you!

10/31/2025

in 1908, the grand dame of New York society, THE Mrs. Astor, passed away at age 78. A few weeks earlier, our queen was featured in The Delineator, where she served writer Rebecca Insley a few cups of piping hot tea:

🍵 I’d looked forward to [my interview with Mrs. Astor] for a long time, not only because of her leadership in New York and Newport society, but because I’d heard so many tributes to her simplicity and charm. I was especially impressed with her independence of judgment, by her graceful manner and choice diction. Her restraint and tact were as remarkable as her courage of utterance.

🍵 Very vividly do I recall my first sight of her and the picture she made as she came slowly down the broad marble stairs, not with any apparent feebleness, although a jeweled hand grasped firmly the iron balustrade. Her head was carried high, not with arrogance but good breeding. I was naturally very interested in seeing her house; she said she’d show it to me with pleasure, and began with the picture gallery. She tried to open the great doors leading from the reception hall, but they were so heavy that the footman had to be called to do it. He left the room in a moment, and I didn’t see another servant during the several hours I was there.

🍵 We talked through the morning and past the late luncheon hour and I forgot THE Mrs. Astor, the dictator of fashionable New York. I was talking merely with an older woman who’d read deeply and understandingly from the book of life; who’d come sweetly, courageously and philosophically through sorrow. And I wanted to sit at her feet and learn.”

ℹ️ The Delineator v.72 no.4; Oct 1908

10/29/2025

“The ghastly secret of Lyndhurst, the Thaw family home in Pittsburgh, has at last become public. In the spring of 1902, a Kentucky woman, a guest of Mrs. William Thaw, committed su***de by hanging in one of the mansion’s large bathrooms. The Thaws, it would now appear, simply waved their magic wand and not a word of the tragedy was allowed to creep out. Mrs. Thaw [mother of psycho Harry K. Thaw], has since declined to stay in Lyndhurst and has advertised it for sale. It is said that Harry Thaw, who is, perhaps, more superstitious than any other member of the family, has long believed the house to be haunted and will not sleep there without a light on in his room.” [maybe he was possessed by the ghost when he murdered EG Stanny White 🤔]
ℹ️ Evening Star; April 22, 1907

🍵 In a statement released a couple of days later, Mama Thaw explained that the deceased’s husband had been an assistant pastor at her church. After he got a gig elsewhere and they’d moved away, she got word that the wife “had become an invalid suffering from nervous prostration with a tinge of melancholia.” She continued: “I invited the invalid wife to visit me at Lyndhurst, believing that the change of scenery would be beneficial. I returned from an afternoon reception one day and, not finding her in the library, sent a maid to her room. The door to the bathroom was locked and there was no answer. This alarmed me so I ordered the gardener to enter through a window when the startling discovery was made.” The family doctor was called, then the coroner and that was that. I couldn’t find additional info on who the woman was or of any subsequent hauntings. As for Lyndhurst, it was demolished in 1944. Only the original wall surrounding the property still stands, as does the carriage house [now a private home].

10/20/2025

“In spite of her brilliant success, Sarah Bernhardt has not been a happy woman. She has been haunted by fear, namely, that she would be buried alive. Finally someone suggested that she try sleeping in a coffin. So Sarah bought one and for weeks she amused herself fitting it up. She lined it with costly laces and satin and she spent a small fortune decorating it on the outside. When she tired she would climb inside and rest. Here she would lie with roses and palms around her and here she would take a nap. Many nights she slept there all night and, describing it, she said: "I never slept so soundly in my life." After a while the fear of premature burial left her and she was quite happy for a few weeks.”

ℹ️ Omaha Daily Bee; February 26, 1905
📸 Sarah ca.1873

10/16/2025

Construction of the skeleton and plaster surface of the left arm and hand of the Statue of Liberty at the Gaget, Gauthier & Co. workshop in Paris, France, photographed in 1881.

Credit: timcolorization on Instagram

10/16/2025

06/26/2025

Ahhhh yes, I know, I’m unforgivably late to the season 3 party … but better late than never, right? Since it’s so many days after the fact I’ll forego a recap and highlight this Gladys Russell moment entitled “Girl Whose Life Is About to Get Hijacked By Her Power Hungry Mother.” I knew I’d seen this portrait IRL, although the actual artist was Giovanni Boldini, not John Singer Sargent. The sitter was socialite Emiliana Co**ha de Ossa, daughter of Chilean politician Melchor Co**ha y Toro, who founded winery in 1883. Methinks poor Gladys could’ve used a few glasses before attempting to flee her impending betrothal to the Duke of M̶a̶r̶l̶b̶o̶r̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ Buckingham.

06/06/2025

“The coast of Normandy was still miles away when the first unmistakable popping reached our listening ears. We ducked down in the bottom of the barge and ceased to watch the approaching coastline. It was now light enough to start taking pictures, and I brought my first Contax camera out of its waterproof oilskin. The flat bottom of our barge hit the earth of France. The boatswain lowered the steel-covered barge front, and there, between the grotesque designs of steel obstacles sticking out of the water, was a thin line of land covered with smoke. My beautiful France looked sordid and uninviting, and a German machine gun, spitting bullets around the barge, fully spoiled my return. The men from my barge waded in the water. Waist-deep, with rifles ready to shoot, with the invasion obstacles and the smoking beach in the background—this was good enough for the photographer. I paused for a moment to take my first real picture of the invasion. The boatswain, who was in an understandable hurry to get the hell out of there, mistook my picture-taking attitude for explicable hesitation, and helped me make up my mind with a well-aimed kick in the rear. The water was cold, and the beach still more than 100 yards away. The bullets tore holes in the water around me, and I made for the nearest steel obstacle. It was still very early and very gray for good pictures, but the gray water and the gray sky made the little men, dodging under the surrealistic designs of Hitler's anti-invasion brain trust, very effective … Fifty yards ahead of me, one of our half-burnt amphibious tanks stuck out of the water and offered me my next cover. Between floating bodies I reached it, paused for a few more pictures, and gathered my guts for the last jump to the beach.”

ℹ️ Photojournalist Robert Capa’s written account of his experience, from his illustrated memoir ‘Slightly Out of Focus’

📸 16th Infantry Regiment, 1st Infantry Division, Normandy, France, June 6, 1944