On April 15, 1904 the American Carbonator and American Bottler reported that "Max Schaefer, the oldest lager beer brewer in the United States, died at his residence, 16 East Fifty-fifth street, [on March 23rd] in his 85th year, and though possessed of wonderful vitality was unable to survive an attack of pneumonia, which developed on the previous Sunday." The house in which the wealthy brewer died sat between Fifth and Madison Avenues, steps away from the elegant St. Regis Hotel still under construction. Schaefer's son, Rudolph, sold the four-story house in December that year to developer Thomas J. McLaughlin for $73,000. Within two months architect Clement B. Brun had filed plans for a modern "five and six-story" residence on the site. The $30,000 construction costs brought the total outlay for McLaughlin to $3 million in today's money. The structure was completed late in 1906. Brun had created a red brick neo-Federal residence trimmed in limestone. The stone-faced first floor sat above a short stoop flanked by hefty limestone newels. An iron-railed balcony fronting two sets of French doors stretched the width of the house at the second floor. The fifth floor took the form of a mansard roof with two stone dormers above the substantial stone cornice. A partial sixth floor sat back, unseen from the street to preserve the proportions of the house. An advertisement in the New York Evening Post on January 26, 1907 described a "New modern English basement house" with "Otis elevator." The advertisement assured potential buyers that the St. Regis Hotel would be their only possible commercial neighbor: "Restricted private house location in front, rear and sides." No. 16 became home to Philip Jacob Rhinelander and his family. The Rhinelanders were one of the oldest and wealthiest families in New York. Philip's father, William, had grown up in the refined brick and marble mansion at No. 14 Washington Square and the family could trace its American roots to Philip J. Rhinelander who arrived in 1689. Philip and his wife, the former Adelaide Kip, had four children, 11-year old Philip Kip, 9-year old Thomas Jackson Oakley, 7-year old Adelaide, and Leonard Kip, who was just 4. The couple's first child, Isaac Leonard Kip Rhinelander, died in infancy in 1895. Adelaide's pedigree was no less impressive than that of her husband. She was the daughter of Dr. Isaac Lewis Kip and Cornelia Brady Kip and their first ancestor in America was Hendrick Hendricksen de Kype, who arrived in New Amsterdam around 1637. Her grandfather, William V. Brady had been elected mayor of New York in 1847. No. 16 (with the American flag) sat within a row of refined residences. from the collection of the New York Public Library The family's summer home was in fashionable Tuxedo Lake, New York. It was there on September 10, 1915 that an unspeakable tragedy occurred. Adelaide was in her dressing room at around 1:00 that afternoon preparing to go out. Her maid had just left the room. The New York Times reported "Mrs. Rhinelander, wearing a loose-fitting house gown, was engaged in dressing her hair. For this purpose she lighted the small spirit lamp that stood upon the dresser beside her." The maid heard screams and rushed back. Before she reached the room the screams had stopped. The lamp had exploded, covering Adelaide with burning fuel. The maid "found Mrs. Rhinelander unconscious, with her hair burned off and her clothing blackened by fire." She had apparently first tried to tear her gown off, then wrapped herself in the bedspread to extinguish the flames. Local physicians and the Rhinelander family doctor from New York City were summoned. They worked over Adelaide throughout the night, but she died just after 1:00 on the morning of September 11. Although he retained possession of the 55th Street house, Philip Rhinelander never returned following his wife's death. He leased it within a few weeks to Mrs. John W. Blodgett; the following season he rented it to Harriet Alexander (who had grown up in the massive mansion at No. 4 West 58th Street, next door to Cornelius and Alice Vanderbilt). Following her marriage to Winthrop Aldrich, head of Chase National Bank, that year the couple remained through 1917. In 1918 it was home to Marshall Field, of Chicago, and his wife. By then the neighborhood around No. 16 was growing increasingly commercial. on June 28, 1919 the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide advised that Rhinelander had leased the house to society milliner and dressmaker Peggy Hoyt. The article noted "its interior is done in French Renaissance, representing the best efforts of the late Stanford White, the marble staircase and the marble mantel in the foyer being particularly notable examples." While the writer described the style accurately, it is doubtful that Stanford White worked on another architect's interiors at the height of his career; not to mention the fact that he died in June 1906 while the house was still under construction. A Peggy Hoyt advertisement featured a sketch showing the original stoop and first floor appearance. Peggy Hoyt worked with the original domestic configuration of the house for three years. Then, in March 1922 Philip Rhinelander hired architect J. H. O'Brien to extend the building to the rear, remove walls and update the plumbing. Peggy Hoyt posed for this drawing of her wearing one of her signature hats in 1922. Women's Home Companion, September 1922 (copyright expired) Peggy Hoyt was, in fact, Mrs. Aubrey L. Eads. On February 18, 1922 the Watertown Daily Times said "She is a former society girl, who, when she had to earn her living in the business world, decided to attempt millinery designing. Within two years the best dressed women in New York were buying their hats from Peggy Hoyt instead of from Paris. Last season Mrs. Hoyt began to design costumes as well, and her success has already made her the supreme arbiter of American fashion." The Peggy Hoyt showrooms retained much of the Rhinelander interiors--including the sweeping marble staircase. from the collection of the Henry Ford Museum Peggy Hoyt died in 1937 but her husband continued running the business; at least for a while. He quickly made a decision which raised eyebrows. On September 22 that year The Herald Statesman reported that he had hired notorious playboy Tommy Manville at the staggering salary of $175,000 per month by today's standards. "The merry asbestos heir, who has millions of his own, said he was glad to get the job because the firm employed 36 models," said the article. Eads put a positive spin on the appointment. "Mr. Manville wants to go into a woman's business and he starts with us Monday...He is going to sell, do press agent work and act as a contact man. He is really a swell egg." Before very long Peggy Hoyt, Inc. was no more. After submitting fake accounts for the company to the Madison Industrial Corporation and receiving $17,000 in fraudulent loans, the 47-year old Eads skipped town in 1940. He was found in Hollywood and brought back to New York for trial. He pleaded guilty on March 6, 1941. When Eads bolted, the Rhinelander estate sold No. 16 to Prince and Princess Gourielli in the fall of 1940. The New York Times noted on September 21, "The buyers will occupy the property after remodeling work is carried out." The renovations were completed the following year and The New York Sun reported "An establishment where men may improve their looks--the Old World Apothecary Shop--opened in town today, but if you think it's designed for sissies you're mistaken." Princess Gourielli, who was also known as Helena Rubenstein, explained,"There's a difference between beautifying men and grooming them. We're going to groom them, scientifically." The couple catered to women as well. Their cosmetics included "herbal compounds of the ancient apothecaries and new pharmaceutical formulas." Men were offered "lotion for rough hands, after-shaving talcum and a product to keep the hair in place." The article noted "The three floor establishment at 16 East 55th street includes a main floor, a reproduction of a white marble-floored apothecary shop (complete with those globes of colored water so dear to all old-time drug stores) and a gift shop dominated by a display of the Princess's collection of early American glassware which is not for sale. The men's scalp and hair clinic and the Men's Shop are on the second floor." The "Old World Apothecary Shop" still retained the Rhinelander ceilings and plasterwork. photograph by Gottscho-Schleisner, Inc. from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York The New York Times did not mention Prince Gourielli in reporting on the opening of "Mme. Helena Rubinstein's Old World apothecary shop" on September 21. "The shop occupies the entire building on the site and has been decorated with works of art including American and Mexican primitive portraits, collections of glassware and other objects d'art." The opening preview celebration included a benefit dinner. "Five hundred persons are expected to attend the supper party," said The Times. As apparel items were added to the offerings, the store became known as The House of Gourielli. The Sun, May 16, 1946, In 1947 the Gourellis leased the building to fashion designer Oleg Cassini. He opened with a fashion show on September 16 that year. The Times described the event saying "Emphasis was placed on the glamorous and picturesque in a collection of custom evening and cocktail fashions...This designer, who recently returned from Hollywood, used heavy satins in combinations of rich colors." It was the first of many fashion shows to come in the Cassini salon over the next few years. Then, in 1954 the Gourellis were back. On November 16 The New York Times announced "A masculine version of that female sanctum, the beauty shop, will open today. Called the Gourielli Men's Shop, it is behind a discreet town house facade at 16 East Fifty-fifth Street." The store was more than a grooming spot, however, and offered clothing as well. The newspaper said the apparel "is conservative, strongly influenced by Savile Row with a trend to the Edwardian style, with the exception of the 'bright but not loud' sports wear." It was a male-only domain. "Finished with a black and white marble floor and counters in the Roman bath tradition, the entrance lobby to the shop is the only room that women will be permitted to enter," said The Times article. The four-chair barber shop area resembled a men's club with thick carpets, a ticker-tape machine, plus "an oxygen machine, to which men can resort for a pick-me-up, said to alleviate a hang-0ver." Shopping at Gourielli's was not an inexpensive venture. In the summer of 1955 striped broadcloth shorts went for $12.50--about $117 today. Gourielli's was replaced the following year by Richard Cheatham's "salon for gentlemen," which opened on December 3. The New York Times said "It looks like a men's club" and like its predecessor, offered both apparel and grooming services. Upstairs was a salon "where a man can get a haircut, shoeshine, steam bath, manicure or electric massage." A press preview marked the opening of "a luxurious salon" in the house on January 3, 1961. Michel Kazan had opened his first salon in Paris in 1934. By now he was well-known among beauty editors and Manhattan's socially elite. The Times said "Michel Kazan's new salon is a six-story house with magnificent decor that was supervised by Gene Moore." Moore had left much of the Rhinelander interiors intact, as revealed in opening day photographs. On April 22, 2017 the Anton Kern Gallery opened in the somewhat miraculously-surviving former mansion. While the exterior of the Rhinelander house is remarkably intact, the interiors were less fortunate. photographs by the author

Love sculpture à New York - 55th Street & 6th Avenue

A two family in Sunset Park with owner's duplex and two-bedroom rental.

Although it was inventor and actor Isaac Merritt Singer who founded the Singer Sewing Machine Company; it was Edward Clark who made it a success. The sewing machine was not a new idea when Singer began tinkering with the contraption around 1850; several variations had already been patented. Singer’s improvements, however, patented on August 12, 1851, resulted in the first practical machine. His prototype could sew 900 stitches per minute—more than 40 professional seamstresses. Clark had been Singer’s attorney since 1848 and the two became business partners. A marketing genius, Clark sold the domestic versions of the machine to wives of clergymen at a 50-percent discount. When the preachers’ wives received their sewing machines, Clark knew that women in the congregations would follow suit. He also came up with the idea of an installment plan, so a housewife could make small payments on the $10 machine until it was hers. As improvements made the older machines obsolete, Clark accepted trade-ins—an unheard of concept that caused sales to skyrocket. Edward Clark amassed a personal fortune and began looking towards real estate development. In the 1870’s he teamed with architect Henry Janeway Hardenbergh and erected rental cottages for summer visitors to Lake Otsego near Cooperstown, New York. It would be the beginning of a long and mutually-prosperous relationship. It would still be years before Hardenbergh’s name would be nationally recognized for buildings like the Waldorf and Astoria Hotels, the Western Union Building on 23rd Street, and the Plaza Hotel. Toward the end of 1877, Clark bought up several building plots on Seventh Avenue. Outspoken in his elitist attitudes towards the impoverished; he intended to make the West Side as affluent as the East. To do so he would simply push the poor out by constructing high-end apartment buildings and he urged other property owners to do the same. He encouraged landowners to work together, mutually investing in property, and issuing restrictive covenants on construction. He told a meeting of the West Side Association in 1879 that only their cooperation could establish the West Side’s “exclusive character” and lure well-to-do residents. According to the authors of “The Park and the People," he asserted “There is the highest authority for believing that the poor will always be with us; but it does not follow that the poor will necessarily occupy any part of the West Side plateau. The poor would be sufficiently with us if they lived in New Jersey or Long Island.” The previous year Clark had put his money where his mouth was. He owned three of the corner lots at the intersection of Seventh Avenue and 55th Street. In 1878 he began erecting what today would be termed “luxury apartments.” Henry J. Hardenbergh designed all three—the Wyoming, the Van Corlear, and the Ontiora. The Ontiora was completed in 1882 at the southwest corner. The red brick building with white stone trim stretched along West 55th Street with its entrance centered at No. 200. Unlike the Dakota Apartments he had designed for Clark two years earlier, there were no turrets or pyramids or balconies. Instead Hardenbergh turned to the sharp angles and clean lines of the Queen Anne and Eastlake Movements currently taking hold. The entrance portico morphed into the slightly-projecting wall of the central staircase hall within; which then edged back to the façade much like an exterior chimney wall. Here the architect focused his embellishments—including stained glass windows with “jewels,” and the date of completion in a carved cartouche. The date of construction is carved in a cartouche resembling a frightening, gap-mouthed creature. Still hoping to push the poor to New Jersey, Clark’s Ontiora offered one enormous apartment per floor—about 2,000 square feet or the dimensions of a reasonably-sized private home. The ceilings rose over 10 feet from the floor and the interior doors and cabinetry were of handsome woods. Just as the first residents moved into the new Ontiora, Edward C. Clark died on October 14, 1882. The new tenants were of the social class Clark had hoped for. Lawrence Miller and his wife lived here by 1892. She was a member of the Ladies’ Auxiliary Committee of the Post Graduate Hospital and a force behind the building fund for the new babies’ ward of that facility. Mrs. Miller and the other committee members worked to raise $20,000 to build and equip the new Post Graduate Hospital wards. The New York Times said “These wards not only serve to relieve the misery among the children of the destitute, who are treated free of charge and without distinction of race, color, or creed, but also serve as a school for the physicians from every part of the country who come to study the diseases of children.” It was not all charity work for the socialite, however. A year later, on January 26, 1893, the society gossip newspaper, Town Topics, noted that “Mrs. Lawrence Miller, of West Fifty-fifth street, who has been visiting her mother, Mrs. Joseph Sawyer, in Boston, the past fortnight, has had no end of agreeable attention offered her.” No doubt other wealthy ladies poured over the list of affairs held for her. “She had a dinner at the Somerset Club, among other smart entertainments, given by Mr. and Mrs. David Nevins. Mrs. Miller gave a luncheon just before leaving for New York to a party of twelve of her old school friends at her mother’s house on Commonwealth avenue.” White stone trim contrasts with the robust red brick. In the Ontiora at the same time were Dr. Bernard E. Vaughan and his wife. The medical prodigy had moved to New York two years after the apartment building was completed to study at the College of Physicians and Surgeons. Following his graduation in 1887, he was accepted as a member of St. Luke’s Hospital, later to be made house physician. The year after he left the hospital, in 1889, he married Maud Phillips Kniffen. His career continued to skyrocket. By 1895 he was the assistant attendant physician at the New York Cancer Hospital, physician at the New York Dispensary, instructor at the Post-Graduate Hospital (Mrs. Miller’s pet charity), and was on the medical staff of the New York Life Insurance Company. On February 27, 1895 the 32-year old doctor was taken from his apartment to St. Luke’s Hospital. He was operated upon for appendicitis the following day; and within a few days succumbed from “the effects of an operation,” according to The Sun on March 7. Rather oddly, the members of the Hospital Graduates’ Club felt it necessary to vote on delivering condolences to his young widow. The club’s minutes of April 23, 1895 read “Resolved, That the sincere sympathy of the club be tendered to his bereaved family, and that this action be entered upon the club records and published in the professional journals of the city.” The McLoughlin family was residing here at the time and little William McLoughlin proved that a privileged upbringing did not always dissuade mischief. He found himself behind bars in November 1896. According to The New York Times on November 4, “William McLoughlin, eight years old, of 200 West Fifty-fifth Street, was arrested last night for building a bonfire in Fifty-fifth Street, between Tenth and Eleventh Avenues.” Exacerbating the boy’s crime was his choice of fuel for the fire. He was also charged with “tearing down fences built around a vacant house in the same block.” Other residents were the well-to-do W. H. Shields and his wife. Mrs. Shields was the sister of the Rev. John Spencer Turner, Jr. On October 9, 1898 The Sun reminded readers that he was “the Episcopalian clergyman whose conversion to the Catholic church created considerable discussion last summer when the fact became known.” Mrs. Shields and her brother were born in Brooklyn and he was ordained an Episcopalian priest in 1894. When he converted to Catholicism, things got messy. “He was rector of the Church of the Good Shepherd, Rochester, N. Y., when he incurred the displeasure of the late Bishop Cox by reason of his ritualistic practices,” said The Sun. “The Bishop forbade him to preach in his diocese, and in token of this inhibition Mr. Turner caused a black flag to be displayed from his residence.” The hoop-la seemed to have died down a bit by the following year. The European comings and goings of Mrs. Shields and her husband were commonly noted in the society pages. But in October 1898 social eyebrows would be raised after their steamship docked in Manhattan. The Sun ran the shocking headline that announced “Mrs. Shields Turns Catholic” and reported “Mrs. W. H. Shields of 200 West Fifty-fifth street, this city, has lately returned from Paris, where she was converted to the Roman Catholic faith.” In 1915 sewer workers toil on 55th Street. The deep light well with its iron railing is still evident and the commercial space on the ground floor is still years away -- photo from the collection of the New York Public Library When Helen Guard lived here in 1915, the ground floor of the Ontiora was still girded by a deep light well and the apartments were still rambling, upscale flats. That year Italy put aside its policy of neutrality and in May entered World War I on the side of the Allies. Helen Guard was a friend of Madame Daballa, the wife of the Italian General in Turin. Through her Helen learned of the sufferings of the Italian troops in the frigid mountains 8,000 to 10,0000 feet up. She wrote to the Editor of The New York Times on October 8, 1915 offering to collect warm clothing for the soldiers. Telling readers that the Italian Government had let its female citizens know that 18 million pairs of woolen socks and several million woolen mittens and sweaters were needed, she wrote “Italy has made no appeal of any kind for aid to others than her citizens. I am quite sure, however, that there are thousands of American women who feel themselves in debt to her, and if any one of them would like to send one pair, a dozen pairs, or a hundred pairs of woolen socks for the Italian soldiers’ use, I shall be happy to forward them.” Helen closed her letter saying “They should be of large size.” Throughout the following decade the apartment house retained its respectable tone, although by 1922 a commercial space had been gouged out of the Seventh Avenue facade. Thomas D. Green and his wife lived here in the 1920’s while daughter, Julie Gibbs Green, attended the Veltin School and the Mount Vernon Seminary in Washington, D. C. In August 1923 Julie was married in a fashionable ceremony to Princeton graduate and former Navy Junior Lieutenant Perry McKay Sturges. In 1922 when the Greens were living here a storefront had been installed on the 7th Avenue side. photograph by Irving Underhill, from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWRMYLJ0&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=18#/SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWRMYLJ0&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915&PN=18 As the 1940’s approached change was coming to Seventh Avenue. In 1938 the light well was covered over and each of the gargantuan apartments were divided into three—all except the third floor which remained a single apartment. That holdout resident remained until 1956 when the third floor apartment, too, became three. Through the first decade of the 21st century the building was slathered in gray paint -- photo http://www.startsandfits.com/hardenbergh/ontiora.html Sometime after the mid-20th century Hardenbergh’s robust Ontiora was covered over in a monochromatic coating of gray paint. The all-important contrast of brick and stone was disguised and the building became supremely overlookable. Inside things were not faring too well for the once-elegant apartment building either. In 1997 The Times opined “the Ontiora is now far from what Edward Clark envisioned: dirty and bedraggled, swamped by traffic and noise, the ground floor now turned over to commerce. The halls have open trash cans—Clark would have had staff whisk any garbage away by dumbwater—and the walls are grimy with age.” Although the street level, including the wonderful entrance portico, has been obliterated, most of Hardenbergh's hefty design survives. A restoration of the façade sometime after 2006 resulted in the re-emergence of the wonderful details. The stained glass panels still survive in the stairwell hall and the three apartments per floor—still roomy by Manhattan standards—with their 10-1/2 foot ceilings still exist. non-credited photographs taken by the author

On December 19, 1808 a small congregation formed The Cedar Street Presbyterian Church on Cedar Street near William Street. As the city grew northward the church moved to Duane Street in 1836 and, in 1852, again to Fifth Avenue and 19th Street. Finally, in 1875 the church, now known as the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, moved for its final time to the corner of Fifth Avenue and 55th Street. The land was purchased for $350,000 and, surrounded by brownstone mansions along “Millionaires Row,” the new church would cost an amazing $1 million. While the new St. Patrick’s Cathedral four blocks to the south and St. Thomas Episcopal just two blocks away utilized the traditional Gothic cruciform layout; architect Carl Pfeiffer designed an interior revolutionary for its time. There were no right angles, no soaring stone pillars. Instead Pfeiffer produced a ship-like open space with a ribbed 60-foot ceiling and unobstructed views from every perspective. The carved woodwork was of polished ash. The New York Times called the interior, capable of seating 2,000 worshippers, “early English.” photo museumplanet.com The brownstone exterior was purely Gothic Revival. The two main entrances, on Fifth Avenue and below the corner tower on 55th Street, mimicked the Gothic arches of the 49 traceried windows and belfry openings. The main steeple, also executed in brownstone, rose 300 feet above Fifth Avenue. Copper-clad fleches to the north gave an exceptionally picturesque touch; however they were as much utilitarian than simply attractive. photo nycago.org In the third quarter of the 19th century, long before air conditioning or central heating, worshippers suffered intolerable heat in the summer and cold in the winter. Pfeiffer solved the problem with an ingenious system of air movement. In the basement he had installed 9,000 feet of steam pipes directly below the floor of the sanctuary. The two fleches acted as airshafts, outfitted with a iron fan seven feet in diameter which ran at 220 revolutions per minute. When the shafts sucked the air out of the sanctuary, the warmed air from the basement was pulled through the holes in the floorboard, heating the room (and, more importantly, the feet of the parishioners!). Likewise, in the summer, the fan would pull 30,000 cubic feet of air out of the church every minute, completely renewing the air every fifteen minutes and providing a constant movement of otherwise stale, hot air. Behind the sanctuary was a chapel, 75 feet by 45 feet, a lecture room, a large hall and rooms for the minister, trustees, sexton and classrooms and a roomy library. The chapel of Fifth Avenue Presbyterian -- photo nycago.org Through the immediate and aggressive sale of pews, the structure was paid for within only two years. “The pews,” reported The New York Times on May 23, 1875, “were appraised in such a way as to provide for the extinction of the debt, and for the annual expenses of the church organization. These prices ranged from three hundred dollars each to six thousand dollars, according to location…” While the purchaser received a perpetual title to his pew, he was then liable for an annual assessment of six per cent on the cost price. The church realized almost immediately that, based on its popularity, it might have nearly doubled its physical size. Under the Reverend Dr. John Henry Jowett in the first quarter of the 20th century, upwards of 1,000 hopeful worshippers would have to be turned away on a Sunday morning. The church's work was proactive and altruistic. In 1867 it established the first Bible class in the city for women, resulting in lines outside the church awaiting admittance. By 1907 it was supporting two missions, a large settlement house, numerous educational, charitable and relief agencies and employed 57 clergymen and paid workers globally to carry out its missionary and charity work. The church was instrumental in the establishment of the Princeton Theological Seminary and the New York Presbyterian Hospital. Fifth Avenue Presbyterian in 1917, decorated to honor British, French, Italian, Japanese and Russian War Commissions A riot was narrowly avoided when, in 1920, ministers from Belfast were invited to speak, representing the Protestant churches of Ireland. Sinn Feine members, the Irish Republicans, massed outside the church on Fifth Avenue hollering “Hurray for the Irish Republic!” During 2000 and 2001, as an outward demonstration of its concern for the less fortunate, Fifth Avenue Presbyterian established a policy of allowing the homeless to sleep on the steps of the church. Although there is a shelter in the basement, it was limited to ten men. The pastor, one Sunday, remarked to the congregations that “these homeless friends are part of our ministry…Outside on our signboard there’s a sign that says ‘This is God’s House, All Are Welcome.’ All are welcome, and we mean it.” When, in December 2001, the city evacuated the homeless from the steps, the church filed suit, charging that the city was in violation of the United States Constitution. The church won. In the 1990's, after a five-year study, a major renovation project was undertaken that included the formation of a new Christian Education Center in the formerly unused space below the sanctuary, installation of air conditioning and fire proofing. Today Fifth Avenue Presbyterian remains essentially unchanged, down to the gas brackets and reflectors still in place.

250 West 55th Street is a modern interpretation of SOM’s historic Lever House. Just steps from Columbus Circle, the premier workplace features a full acre, 50-foot podium and set-back slender tower affords maximum light, air, and views to all floors. With above standard infrastructure, 250 West 55th Street offers modern space for today’s efficient workplace.

A modern housing solution crafted from historic character. Triple gable roof and all. In the abandoned and derelict 1920s masonic temple, we saw a space that still had a lot of potential.

Art.com | We Are Art We exist so you can have the art you love. Art.com gives you easy access to incredible art images and top-notch craftsmanship. High-Quality Framed Art Prints Our high-end framed wall art is printed on premium paper using non-toxic, archival inks that protect against UV light to resist fading. Experience unmatched quality and style as you choose from a wide range of designs to enhance your room décor. Professionally Crafted Framed Wall Art Attention to detail is at the heart of our process, as we exclusively use 100% solid wood frames that include 4-ply white core matboard and durable, frame-grade clear acrylic for clarity, long-lasting protection of the artwork and unrivaled quality. With a thoughtfully selected frame and mat combination, this piece is designed to complement your art and create a visually appealing display. Easy-to-Hang & Ready-to-Display Artwork Each framed art piece comes with hanging hardware affixed to the back of the frame, allowing for easy and convenient installation. Ready to display right out of the box. Handcrafted in the USA. Oliver Coleman playing in a nightclub on 55th Street in Chicago, Illinois The Print This photographic print leverages sophisticated digital technology to capture a level of detail that is absolutely stunning. The colors are vivid and pure. The high-quality archival paper, a favorite choice among professional photographers, has a refined luster quality. Paper Type: Photo Finished Size: 12" x 9" Arrives by Sat, Apr 13 Product ID: 49805320016A

The Astor Apartment House, New York City

Hotel in New York, NY

SLCE Architects' 18-story, 185-foot-tall, 62-unit 115 East 55th Street for Zeckendorf Development progresses in Midtown East.

How does one find their individuality as an artist? Artist, David Gluck, suggests wearing a hat!!! I began my professional art career as a freelance commercial illustrator in the early 70’s. I shared office space with an already well established artist who had excellent credentials, was confident in what he was doing, and had a... Read more »

November 19, 2013. Canon SX280 HS.

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

Snow continues to fall as BNSF ET44C4 No. 3993 leads the Alliance-Portland intermodal (Q ALTPTL6 05F) north out of Boulder, Colorado at 55th Street, on February 6, 2019.

Five star glamazon at Fifth Ave and 55th Street, with a clubby atmosphere, a pool and yearround rooftop bar Famous for its do-or-die attention to service, the Peninsula New York is housed in a 1905 Beaux-Arts building at Fifth Avenue and 55th Street. MoMA, Bergdorf Goodman, Broadway’s theaters and a parade of city buses are steps away, but the noises stop at the door. And so do the crowds. In lieu of an open lobby, like the one at its famous flagship property in Hong Kong, this Peninsula has a small marble foyer with a grand staircase that leads to jewel-box-size spaces. The atmosphere is clubby — the kind of place where Mad Men’s Don Draper would feel at home.

The Sony Tower, formerly the AT&T Building, is a 647 feet (197 m) tall, 37-story highrise skyscraper located at 550 Madison Avenue between 55th Street and 56th Street in the New York City borough of Manhattan. It is the headquarters of Sony Corporation of America.The building was designed by architect Philip Johnson and partner John Burgee, completed in 1984 (This image taken in 1991)