|
The Building
An edited excerpt from The Clayton 85th Anniversary Celebration (2007) by Diana Benzaia and the 85th Anniversary Committee. Diana Benzaia was a shareholder, resident and professional writer specializing in medical and healthcare topics. She died in 2009. Read or download it here. |
|
What did our first residents find when they moved in, and how has the building evolved over the years? You may be surprised at some of the secrets our building has kept, until now.
THE LOBBY
At least from the 1930s to the 1950s, the Clayton was not a doorman building. A directory in the lobby provided a listing of residents with codes for each apartment. Visitors communicated through an intercom and were "buzzed in" by tenants. The elevators were staffed 24 hours a day. When the elevators were automated, many elevator men became doormen.
The ceiling has gone through various color incarnations. Originally, much of the detail was gold-hued and may have even been gold-leafed. The gilding was applied to the rosettes centered between the octagonal coffers in the ceiling, the acanthus leaves that form the third level of the four-level cornice at the ceiling line, just above the lentil level, and the applied bas-reliefs that surround the ceiling in a frieze just below the cornice molding (a sequential pattern of a cherub's head, a trefoil, a rosette and another trefoil). Subsequent painting has covered over the gold, and our current color scheme, of subdued cream on linen de-emphasizes the coffers. Our beautiful pale cream brecciated marble walls, probably from Italy, are now very much as they were originally due to regular cleaning. A single row of Negro Marquina marble, likely from China, outlines the perimeter of the beige Travertine stone floor, likely Durango from Turkey.
Those who lived here in the 1940s and 1950s remember large mahogany console tables, topped with large lamps and with huge ornate, gold leafed mirrors behind them, located in three places: where the mailboxes (installed in the early 1990s) are now, and in the same locations where the current console tables now stand.
The three marble benches were once covered with forest green velvet cushions, with the largest one occupying a spot just inside the main lobby where a storage cabinet now stands. Long forest green drapes were, in various periods, either velvet or brocade, but are now a soft taupe.
Large Oriental area rugs on the lobby floors echoed the colors and patterns of tiling in the halls outside apartments on the upper floors.
At least from the 1930s to the 1950s, the Clayton was not a doorman building. A directory in the lobby provided a listing of residents with codes for each apartment. Visitors communicated through an intercom and were "buzzed in" by tenants. The elevators were staffed 24 hours a day. When the elevators were automated, many elevator men became doormen.
The ceiling has gone through various color incarnations. Originally, much of the detail was gold-hued and may have even been gold-leafed. The gilding was applied to the rosettes centered between the octagonal coffers in the ceiling, the acanthus leaves that form the third level of the four-level cornice at the ceiling line, just above the lentil level, and the applied bas-reliefs that surround the ceiling in a frieze just below the cornice molding (a sequential pattern of a cherub's head, a trefoil, a rosette and another trefoil). Subsequent painting has covered over the gold, and our current color scheme, of subdued cream on linen de-emphasizes the coffers. Our beautiful pale cream brecciated marble walls, probably from Italy, are now very much as they were originally due to regular cleaning. A single row of Negro Marquina marble, likely from China, outlines the perimeter of the beige Travertine stone floor, likely Durango from Turkey.
Those who lived here in the 1940s and 1950s remember large mahogany console tables, topped with large lamps and with huge ornate, gold leafed mirrors behind them, located in three places: where the mailboxes (installed in the early 1990s) are now, and in the same locations where the current console tables now stand.
The three marble benches were once covered with forest green velvet cushions, with the largest one occupying a spot just inside the main lobby where a storage cabinet now stands. Long forest green drapes were, in various periods, either velvet or brocade, but are now a soft taupe.
Large Oriental area rugs on the lobby floors echoed the colors and patterns of tiling in the halls outside apartments on the upper floors.
The ground floor contained no residential apartments until the late 1960s, and the commercial space on West 92nd Street was originally two professional offices.
The office of Dr Frank, a dentist, could be entered through what is now the street entrance, or through one of two black doors that are now sealed: one in the entry foyer and another in the lobby to the left of the storage cabinet.
The office of Dr. Jacobs, a physician, could be entered from the 92nd Street courtyard, the street, or from a lobby door that has been flawlessly concealed with faux painting to look like marble.
Dr. Jacobs' walk-in practice charged $5 a visit in the 1950s. By around 1970, rent increases forced him to move his office to 93rd Street, where he charged $10 a visit, but he and his wife, a high school principal, continued to maintain their residence in The Clayton well into their 90s.
Rents in the 1950s were around $125 for a two-bedroom, rent-controlled apartment in the building.
The office of Dr Frank, a dentist, could be entered through what is now the street entrance, or through one of two black doors that are now sealed: one in the entry foyer and another in the lobby to the left of the storage cabinet.
The office of Dr. Jacobs, a physician, could be entered from the 92nd Street courtyard, the street, or from a lobby door that has been flawlessly concealed with faux painting to look like marble.
Dr. Jacobs' walk-in practice charged $5 a visit in the 1950s. By around 1970, rent increases forced him to move his office to 93rd Street, where he charged $10 a visit, but he and his wife, a high school principal, continued to maintain their residence in The Clayton well into their 90s.
Rents in the 1950s were around $125 for a two-bedroom, rent-controlled apartment in the building.
THE UPSTAIRS HALLS
The magnificent floors in our upper hallways are composed of small octagonal tiles in brick, terra cotta, mustard, black, white, and gray set in a repeating diamond pattern, with small square white tiles forming a 7" border. The pattern mimics that of Oriental rugs popular in the 1920s. The panel moldings on the walls are accented by cream paint within the frames and a light tan on the rest of the walls. The faux wood doors to our apartments were hand-painted by skilled craftsmen, so that each one is subtly different. They have withstood the test of time in excellent condition.
The magnificent floors in our upper hallways are composed of small octagonal tiles in brick, terra cotta, mustard, black, white, and gray set in a repeating diamond pattern, with small square white tiles forming a 7" border. The pattern mimics that of Oriental rugs popular in the 1920s. The panel moldings on the walls are accented by cream paint within the frames and a light tan on the rest of the walls. The faux wood doors to our apartments were hand-painted by skilled craftsmen, so that each one is subtly different. They have withstood the test of time in excellent condition.
THE BASEMENT
A formation of mica schist rock, well suited for supporting the foundations of tall buildings, forms much of the island of Manhattan. It is known as Manhattan schist. In the current bicycle storage room, a wooden platform was built over an area where you could see Manhattan schist breaking the surface. A large formation of this bedrock can still be seen across the street between St. James Court and the Senate Hotel.
The laundry room was once an area for metal cabinets containing dryer racks modeled on Shaker dryers. When closed they looked like tall, thin lockers with handles on the front. You would pull one out about six feet revealing horizontal poles at various heights on which to hang wet clothes, and then close the cabinet. Steam pipes running along the floor under the cabinets dried laundry in a day.
Two professional laundresses came to the building daily. They would pick up laundry in the morning and return it in the evening, washed, folded and ironed. Long out of use, the drying racks and the pipes that ran across the floor were removed in 1979, although the pipes that ran around the perimeter are still visible.
THE ROOF
Originally, the roof was paved in red tiles, long since covered over. Beach chairs and umbrellas were put out in warm weather, and people met there to socialize, lunch, and play badminton. The roof was lined with beautiful black decorative guardrails. Clotheslines were hung on one part of the roof, and rope ladders and swings were hung from the railings for children to play.
RETAIL STORES
Broadway was once lined with small "mom and pop" stores and restaurants, often owned and run by people who lived in the neighborhood. The famed Harry Oppenheimer's butcher, a little further up Broadway, attracted customers from all over town. Williams Bar-B-Q, a beacon to hungry Upper West Siders looking for take-out - with a proprietor dubbed the "the chicken man" by none other than Itzhak Perlman – was a fixture before moving to Pleasantville.
Change is constant. Although many small stores have been forced to leave in successive waves of rent increases, others have replaced them; some have stayed, some large chains have moved in, and some totally new businesses have arrived that could not have been conceived of decades ago, such as our wealth of nail salons, health food stores, and the Equinox health club across the street.
The Clayton originally had seven small retail stores on Broadway, and the changes in those spaces have mirrored those in the neighborhood.
For generations, the store on the corner was Klein's Pharmacy, which was about half the size of the current space. The original pharmacist, Sam Klein, who lived in the building with his family, ran the store from at least the 1930s. His son, Harold Klein, who also lived in the building with his wife and daughter, eventually took over the pharmacy. When the younger Klein retired, he sold the pharmacy to another pharmacist, George Farah, who ran it until rising rents drove him a few blocks south. When he left, a vitamin store moved in, eventually expanding to the former second store and becoming The Vitamin Shoppe. The second store was the New Clayton Barber Shop, opened by James Vincent Savarese in the 1940s. At the outset, Savarese lived in Queens, but when an apartment opened up here in 1950, he was only too glad to move into 4J with his wife Julia and daughter Juliana.
The third store, in the same place as the current candy and newspaper store, was once a classic candy and soda shop with a counter and stools where you could get a chocolate egg cream for 15 cents and buy Spaldeens for stickball or other play.
People who lived here in the 1950s remember the fourth store as Sally's dress shop.
From the 1950s on, the fifth store was an inviting shop of treats with fruits, nuts, and imported German and Swiss chocolates run by a couple who lived in the building. When they retired, it was taken over by two men who, when rents soared in the early 1990s, moved around the comer to Amsterdam, only to retire when rents increased again. A 1924 lease for "a high class tailoring establishment" in the original sixth store notes a rental of $3,600 annually for five years, and then $4,000 annually for the next five years. In the 1950s, a beauty parlor, Nardi's, was in this space. In later years, the space became a barbecue restaurant, which remained until the early 1990s.
The fifth store became Murder Ink in 1992 and was soon joined by Ivy's Books in the sixth store. These much beloved stores were casualties of rent increases at the end of 2006.
A formation of mica schist rock, well suited for supporting the foundations of tall buildings, forms much of the island of Manhattan. It is known as Manhattan schist. In the current bicycle storage room, a wooden platform was built over an area where you could see Manhattan schist breaking the surface. A large formation of this bedrock can still be seen across the street between St. James Court and the Senate Hotel.
The laundry room was once an area for metal cabinets containing dryer racks modeled on Shaker dryers. When closed they looked like tall, thin lockers with handles on the front. You would pull one out about six feet revealing horizontal poles at various heights on which to hang wet clothes, and then close the cabinet. Steam pipes running along the floor under the cabinets dried laundry in a day.
Two professional laundresses came to the building daily. They would pick up laundry in the morning and return it in the evening, washed, folded and ironed. Long out of use, the drying racks and the pipes that ran across the floor were removed in 1979, although the pipes that ran around the perimeter are still visible.
THE ROOF
Originally, the roof was paved in red tiles, long since covered over. Beach chairs and umbrellas were put out in warm weather, and people met there to socialize, lunch, and play badminton. The roof was lined with beautiful black decorative guardrails. Clotheslines were hung on one part of the roof, and rope ladders and swings were hung from the railings for children to play.
RETAIL STORES
Broadway was once lined with small "mom and pop" stores and restaurants, often owned and run by people who lived in the neighborhood. The famed Harry Oppenheimer's butcher, a little further up Broadway, attracted customers from all over town. Williams Bar-B-Q, a beacon to hungry Upper West Siders looking for take-out - with a proprietor dubbed the "the chicken man" by none other than Itzhak Perlman – was a fixture before moving to Pleasantville.
Change is constant. Although many small stores have been forced to leave in successive waves of rent increases, others have replaced them; some have stayed, some large chains have moved in, and some totally new businesses have arrived that could not have been conceived of decades ago, such as our wealth of nail salons, health food stores, and the Equinox health club across the street.
The Clayton originally had seven small retail stores on Broadway, and the changes in those spaces have mirrored those in the neighborhood.
For generations, the store on the corner was Klein's Pharmacy, which was about half the size of the current space. The original pharmacist, Sam Klein, who lived in the building with his family, ran the store from at least the 1930s. His son, Harold Klein, who also lived in the building with his wife and daughter, eventually took over the pharmacy. When the younger Klein retired, he sold the pharmacy to another pharmacist, George Farah, who ran it until rising rents drove him a few blocks south. When he left, a vitamin store moved in, eventually expanding to the former second store and becoming The Vitamin Shoppe. The second store was the New Clayton Barber Shop, opened by James Vincent Savarese in the 1940s. At the outset, Savarese lived in Queens, but when an apartment opened up here in 1950, he was only too glad to move into 4J with his wife Julia and daughter Juliana.
The third store, in the same place as the current candy and newspaper store, was once a classic candy and soda shop with a counter and stools where you could get a chocolate egg cream for 15 cents and buy Spaldeens for stickball or other play.
People who lived here in the 1950s remember the fourth store as Sally's dress shop.
From the 1950s on, the fifth store was an inviting shop of treats with fruits, nuts, and imported German and Swiss chocolates run by a couple who lived in the building. When they retired, it was taken over by two men who, when rents soared in the early 1990s, moved around the comer to Amsterdam, only to retire when rents increased again. A 1924 lease for "a high class tailoring establishment" in the original sixth store notes a rental of $3,600 annually for five years, and then $4,000 annually for the next five years. In the 1950s, a beauty parlor, Nardi's, was in this space. In later years, the space became a barbecue restaurant, which remained until the early 1990s.
The fifth store became Murder Ink in 1992 and was soon joined by Ivy's Books in the sixth store. These much beloved stores were casualties of rent increases at the end of 2006.
The Clayton as it is Today.
Building and lobby photos by mjwoo44 for Carla Golden, 2022. Upstairs Hall photos by Christopher Tiné.