
The Sherman and Sheridan Apartments, 1-7 Manhattan Avenue
by Tom Miller
In 1905 the architectural firm of Schwartz & Gross filed plans for two “six-story brick and stone tenements” for developer Nathan Loewy. The term “tenement” at the time referred to any multi-family residential building. The structures—The Sherman at 1-3 Manhattan Avenue and the Sheridan a 5-7 Manhattan Avenue—would cost Loewy $90,000 each, or about $3.2 million in 2025 terms.
Nearly identical to the architects’ La Touraine and Mont Cenis apartments on Morningside Drive, the Sherman, and Sheridan were faced in red brick above a base of alternating brick and limestone. The entrances sat within columned porticos. To preclude the fire escapes from obstructing their design, Schwartz & Gross recessed them into the center of the façade. The Sherman had shops on the side street.
The residents were upper-middle-class professionals, like composer, conductor and concert violinist Christiaan Pieter Wilhelm Kriens and his wife, concert pianist and composer Eleanor Foster Kriens. Born in Germany in 1881 to concert clarinetist Pieter Willem Kriens, Christiaan gave his first concert at the age of 14. He and Eleanor married in 1905, and they came to the United States the following year. On October 13, 1907, the New-York Tribune reported that the couple “have opened a studio at the Sherman, No. 1 Manhattan avenue, for piano and violin instruction.” Together, the Kriens organized The Kriens Quartet and the couple appeared on stage together, as well. On January 12, 1908, the New-York Tribune reported, “Mr. and Mrs. Christian [sic] Kriens…will give a concert of their compositions at the National Arts Club on January 28.”
The Evening World reported that tenants on that floor “have been complaining for several days about the quarreling and noise going on in the Gould quarters.”
Five months after the Kriens’s concert, on June 1, 1908, George Gould and his wife moved into the Sherman. Gould was in the automobile business. A new apartment did not nullify the domestic problems the couple were experiencing, and two weeks later, The Evening World reported that tenants on that floor “have been complaining for several days about the quarreling and noise going on in the Gould quarters.” Mrs. Gould left the apartment on June 13 and did not return. At around 9:30 the following night, the tenant in the apartment across from the Goulds’ smelled the odor of gas and told the janitor. A policeman and the bellboy entered the apartment and found George Gould unconscious. The Evening World reported, “Gould was brought to his senses at the J. Hood Wright Hospital and beyond saying that he was thirty years old, he would tell nothing about himself.”
Adam and Annie Zimmerman were original residents of the Sheridan. Two years earlier, the Zimmermans’ daughter, Annie, eloped with Charles Konselman (the son of Frederick and Clara B. Konselman). The Evening World reported, “It was months before the girls’ parents were reconciled to the marriage.” Eventually, a reconciliation was achieved, and “the older Zimmermans and Konselmans became friendly and many family dinner parties were given.”
It was at those dinner parties, however, that trouble festered. Because Adam Zimmerman was a chef, he cooked the meals. On November 20, 1912, The Evening World reported, “Mrs. Konselman always insisted on helping him prepare the meals. It also was alleged that they found time between courses to embrace and make love.” The Konselman and the Zimmerman women faced off in court on November 19, 1912. The Evening World noted, “the plaintiff and defendant are grandmothers of the same child.” The three-week trial had the Zimmermans’ daughter testifying on her mother’s side and Charles Konselman testifying in defense of his mother. Frederick W. Konselman, perhaps sensibly, “sat by his wife’s side throughout the trial, but did not testify.” Annie Zimmerman was awarded $2,000 for damages. Expectedly, she moved out of the Sheridan.
In 1909, three nurses affiliated with Roosevelt Hospital shared an apartment in the Sheridan. One of them, Ethel C. Shaw, had fallen in love with Dr. G. Scott Towne in 1903 when she was head nurse at the Saratoga Hospital. They kept a long-distance romance and were engaged to be married. Towne lived with his widowed mother, who was adamant about her opposition to the match. In the spring of 1909, Towne conceded to his mother’s will and broke the engagement.
Ethel Shaw boarded a train to Saratoga to talk to Towne in person. She got as far as Albany when she decided hers was a lost cause. On April 7, 1909, The Sun reported, “Miss Ethel G. Shaw of New York, a trained nurse, whose engagement to Dr. G. Scott Towne of Saratoga had been broken recently, was found dead this morning in her room at the Hotel Ten Eyck. On a table near by was a hypodermic syringe and a box containing vials of morphine, one of which was empty.” She left a poignant and accusative note for Towne:
Dear Boy—Unfortunately I have got overfond of you. So the breaking of our engagement means to me complete wreckage. Don’t get any other girl to love you. No mother has a right to spoil a son’s life. When people marry they should be given their choice. Every woman knows this. Ethel
French-born Eugene De Montigny was, according to his wife, “of noble family, but dropped his title when he came to this country some years ago.” The manager of the Fifth Avenue decorating firm L. Alavoine & Co., he and his wife lived in the Sheridan. The couple, who were married in 1894, had a 15-year-old son who was in school in France in 1911. On the evening of October 15 that year, the couple returned home from dinner and were preparing for bed. Mrs. De Montigny was in the bathroom at 11:00 and “called to him to know if he wanted a bath fixed,” according to the New-York Tribune. He did not respond, and when she went to the bedroom, she found him, “half out of bed with a bullet hole in his right temple.”
Ethel C. Shaw, had fallen in love with Dr. G. Scott Towne in 1903 when she was head nurse at the Saratoga Hospital.
At the time, suicide was considered scandalous and humiliating for victims’ families. De Montigny’s employer, Franklin Pierce Duryea, quickly stepped in with damage control. On October 17, he released a statement to the press saying, “he had made a careful investigation of the death of the company’s office manager [and] Mr. Duryea has concluded that Mr. Montigny shot himself accidentally in the dark.”
On June 17, 1921, The Evening World described the attack of Pearl Boyce as, “one of the most extraordinary cases of assault with which the New York police have had to deal.” Boyce, who was described by the newspaper as “young and very pretty,” had moved to New York City relatively recently and took an apartment in the Sherman. At around 10:00 on the evening of June 10, she took her dog for a walk and on Central Park West removed its leash so it could run. She told police that at the 100th Street entrance to the park, a teen grabbed the dog. Pearl Boyce ran after him, but then “the youth dropped the dog and seized her.” Six comrades, ranging from 15 to 20 years old, joined in and they “dragged Mrs. Boyce into the shade of the trees.” The attack continued for an hour.
One of the teens, “took her to her door and fled.” Astoundingly, the following day one of the boys “came to the house and represented himself as an agent of the A. S. P. C. A., come to investigate a complaint against her dog.” He convinced her to open the door. The Evening World reported, “She says he forced an entrance and made attempts to repeat the attack of the night before, but her screams for the police frightened him and he ran.” The mob was later tracked down and arrested.
The handsome apartment buildings survived nearly half a century. In 1952, the city approved the Frederick Douglass Houses housing project that would eradicate the buildings from 100th to 104th Street and from the east side of Amsterdam Avenue to the west of Manhattan Avenue.
Tom Miller is a social historian and blogger at daytoninmanhattan.blogspot.com