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New Year celebration shutdown

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Wind gusts in Sheep Meadow in Central Park. Friday, 3 PM. Photo: Jeff Hirsch.
Monday January 6, 2014. Well that’s that. New Year celebration shutdown; back to reality. Sunday went from very cold morning but wet, and gradually to a little less cold but with a biting chill in the air. And then at the time of this writing (midnight), fog. Fawg, like Blighty of old in those black and white archival photos we’ve all seen. It’s supposed to be warmer by the time you read this.
Last night view of East End south and north, from the terrace, 12 a.m.
The snowstorm in New York was the old fashioned kind. No big deal really. It snowed steadily and blowing between Thursday night to Friday morning for eight or ten hours before it subsided. But it didn’t accumulate much more than four or five inches in the city (in our little micro enviro of East End Avenue).

It reminded me of an average snowfall when I was a kid. It just added to the mounds but it was the blizzard where it took me more than an hour to shovel the sidewalks of three of our next door neighbors.  A foot, two feet. None of that here in Manhattan. Although my nephew up on Cape Cod reported eighteen inches up there.
Thursday night about midnight.
Friday morning.
Friday night's sunset looking south, and then looking north with the pink cast on the buildings.
So that is my NYSD weatherman story. Now, in another part of town, actually West End Avenue, Friday morning, JH left his warm and cozy aerie overlooking that other river (yes the Hudson), to get some photo record of what you could see.

He told me later that what was missing in this snow storm was the snow on the trees. The trees were bare. He hadn’t recalled it like this in a long time. So here’s what he saw on Friday afternoon starting out on Riverside Drive ...
Into Riverside Park ...
On West End Avenue ...
On Broadway ...
On Central Park West ...
Into Central Park ...
Back on West End Avenue ...
Word comes from Los Angeles that Philip Van Rensselaer the socialite/memoirist and biographer died last week in Los Angeles in a convalescent home. He would have been 86 this year.

Mr. Van Rensselaer was something of a media celebrity when I first came to New York out of college. A well known man about town with a very old family name in a world where that still had gravity in society and in the press.

Philip Van Rensselaer, photographed by Slim Aarons for the back cover of his book, "That Vanderbilt Woman" about Gloria Morgan Vanderbilt, mother of Gloria Vanderbilt and grandmother of Anderson Cooper.
The Van Rensselaers were Dutch, and acquired their land grant in 1631 in what is now New York State and part of Massachusetts. It was 48 miles long by 24 miles wide. It extended up the Hudson and as far east as what is now the Western part of Massachusetts. The first Van Rensselaer who was Lord of the Manor was Kilian. He was a founding member of the East India Company that settled New Amsterdam as part of their business plan. He never came here to this country but managed his property like a major investment from Holland. His son came to visit but his grandson was the first to live on the ranch (my word, not theirs of course): Jon-Baptiste Van Rensselaer

These domains were not like your ordinary land ownership. The Van Rensselaer tract was theirs and you were a guest who lived according to and by their rules which were those of a colony. They were independent with their own police and judicial forces. They had great power in the New World. Once when Peter Stuyvesant got into a serious disagreement with the first Mr. Van Rensselaer, he said that the only way to win with a Van Rensselaer was to go to War with them.

When the British took over “New Netherland” and renamed it “New York,” the Van Rensselaers got to keep theirs. When the French and Indian Wars occurred over the Northeastern area, the Van Rensselaers were not under siege. They had already made their agreements with the Native Americans and it was negotiated to everyone’s liking. At the time anyway. Their vast property covered 700,000 acres including the area that is now Albany.

Van Rensselaer was a serious writer penning 3 books.
The Van Rensselaer family’s patrimony held sway in the real estate world, financial world and the social world well into the 19th century. By the age of Edith Wharton, their place in New York society was acknowledged by her in the characters the Van der Luydens. By the time that Philip Van Rensselaer came along (he was born in 1928), the name had lost its power and punch financially, but not its social gravitas.

He was a tall handsome fellow, judging from the photographs. He was gay and although it was before the time that people were “out,” he lived in a sophisticated world where those realities were recognized, accepted and acknowledged, albeit privately not publicly. He had a very close relationship with, among others women, Barbara Hutton, the Woolworth heiress. (Hutton was also first cousin of the Donahues and Jimmy Donahue was her only “friend” and confidant). Hutton also had a lot of husbands and what the late John Galliher (ten years older than Van Rensselaer), called “inconsequential generosity.” It was presumed that a bond in that relationship between him and Hutton was that inconsequential generosity with a focus. Although Van Rensselaer was a sincere and caring man with Hutton.

He had the public reputation for being one of those boys in society who were escorts and houseguests and with a name very useful to those hosts and hostesses who liked letting the name slip to impress. Furthermore he dressed a table and a room with an attractive and agreeable presence.

But he was also a serious writer and very readable. His book “That Vanderbilt Woman” refers to the mother of Gloria Vanderbilt (and grandmother of Anderson Cooper) who was the very young second wife of Reginald Vanderbilt. The book is written in the novel-form as history. Highly readable and of course impossible to know if it’s accurate. However it’s a good bet that Van Rensselaer had access to the inside story on the lives of these people because he was one of them (the Van Rensselaer name, for example was impressive to the Vanderbilts who were also Dutch latecomers to the Colonies – 18th century).

I was told that Mr. Van Rensselaer had been ailing for a long time – which was why he was in a home. He’d been living in Los Angeles, the City of the Angels, for many years. That would have been the real New World to the patroons– had they known. Philip Van Rensselaer surely knew that too. May he rest in peace.

Meanwhile, in the real estate department. I read in the Realestalker.com and then the Real Deal, that Vince Camuto, the Nine West shoe tycoon, had sold or was about to sell his fabulous oceanfront estate in Southampton for $48 million. Evidently the deal also includes the houses on the same (original) property which were once the garages and stables of the original estate for an additional $20 million plus.

It’s a spectacular piece of property as you can see from the aerial view. It sits right next door to the Southampton Bathing Corporation (the beach club).
The Wooldon Manor property of shoe tycoon Vince Camuto on the beach in Southampton, which reportedly sold for $48 million. To the right of the driveway are additional properties which belonged to the original estate first built in 1901-02 by Dr. Peter Wyckoff. These properties were also reported to be sold for many millions also.
Aerial view of the east side of the Camuto property. The house was origianlly the beach house which Jessie Woolworth Donahue had built when she acquired the property in 1928. Also surrounding the property (the green hedge) is a brick wall that Mrs. Donahue built. The house was open to society in all its renovated and redesigned glory the following year, 1929. It was not a favoreable one for the country's fortunes, nor was it favorable for Jessie Donahue's social ascent.
A close-up of the house.
Prices and neighbors aside, the property itself is the interesting story. The original  was commissioned by Dr. Peter Wyckoff in 1900. Wyckoff was an MD who left the profession, went to Wall Street and made a fortune. And built this house. Fifty-eight rooms right on the ocean. Tudor style. Brick, stucco and timber. The world was a much quieter one a century ago. There were no crowds in Southampton. There were very few people in Southampton. Maybe a few more in the summertime. Life’s luxury was its leisure. The Wyckoffs had a flower gardens. Mrs. Wyckoff was a founder of the Fresh Air Home, still flourishing today.

Jessie Woolworth Donahue (photographed here with her poodle), heiress of her father F. W. Woolworth, was one of the richest women in America. She was married to an unfortunate man who was an alcoholic and a compulsive gambler (Jessie was that too, and an active bisexual), and who committed suicide almost on a whim of sudden depression after a card game.
In 1928, Dr. Wyckoff, then 84 (he died the following year) sold the property to Jessie Woolworth Donahue, one of the three daughters of F. W. Woolworth who made what today would be billions with his Five and Dime Stores. Fifteen acres and 610 feet of oceanfront, Mrs. Donahue was looking to move into Southampton society with the biggest and the best.

She had the place done over, and in record time because she wanted it for that summer, 1929.  The gardens were more extensive, six different gardens surrounded by a vast flat lawn. She also built a beach house with a pavilion containing a 30 by 60 indoor pool. That beach house is what is now known as the main house. They named the property Wooldon (Woolworth/Donahue, get it?)

When it was ready for occupancy it was considered the best house on Long Island. Cleveland Amory in his book “The Last Resorts” quoted Mrs. Donahue’s reprobate husband James giving some guests a tour of the house and as they entered the dining room he said, “Come on in and see it; all the silver’s gold.”

The Donahues moved in with their two sons, Woolworth and James Jr., known as Jimmy. For whatever reason, they did not make the cut socially. It certainly wasn’t because they were outclassed financially. It might have been the public (and private) reputation of Mr. Donahue Sr., who was known to be a gambler, a drunk and actively (flauntingly) bisexual.
This was Wooldon before it was so named, the home of Dr. Peter Wyckoff and his wife. 58 rooms. Much of what you've learned from this piece was extracted from the wonderful book "Houses of the Hamptons 1880 - 1930" by Gary Lawrance and Anne Surchin (Acanthus Publishers). There is, of course, much more in this excellent cofffee table size volume.
The ocean front side of the house built for Dr. Peter Wyckoff.
A painting of the Wyckoff cottage and its gardens.
The pool house at Wooldon Manor.
This is Cielito Lindo in Palm Beach, built by Jessie Donahue the year before she bought the property in Southampton. It also was designed to serve to social ambitions. Evidently a very pleasant woman, she really got the greatest reaction when she'd do something spectacular, like throw a party and import an entire Broadway musical revue for entertainment, as she did more than once at Cielito Lindo. However, the name and the husband's reputation, not to mention her disreputable hell-raising son, Jimmy, caused a lot of the "proper" society people to recoil (at least slightly when she wasn't hanging out the ham). Nevertheless, Mrs. Donahue seems to have survived her domestic hardships and enjoyed herself and the company she kept. It was said that she spent thousands of dollars on the Windsors for three years running before the bloom was off the rose. Her son Jimmy had a very famous affair (true or false) with the duchess of Windsor, which eventually caused a complete fall out and final split from the couple for poor Mrs. Donahue.
After two years on the impossible climbs in Southampton, Jessie Donahue got herself a yacht and headed for sunnier climes. Mr. Donahue killed himself two years later in their New York townhouse on East 80th Street. He had been in a card game, was losing; and got up from the table, went to the bathroom and took an overdose.

The property was sold at auction for a price much lower than its cost, in 1937 to Edward F. Lynch of Merrill, Lynch, Fenner & Beane. Remember them? Now known as Merrill Lynch.
The notorious society bad boy Jimmy Douglas with his "friend" Wallis, the Duichess of Windsor.
Lynch bought the property for the beach house. But he died the following year. One of his partners, Charles Merrill, bought the beach house from the Lynch estate. To cut the property taxes, the Lynch family demolished the main house that Jessie Donahue had spent millions on less than ten years before. Then the property was subdivided and the outer buildings – stables, garages, etc. – were converted into houses. For several decades, the William McKnight family has occupied that property besides Mr. Camuto's beachfront.

Jessie Donahue’s acres of beautiful gardens are now impeccably maintained flat lawn that covers most of the fifteen acres. The Donahues impossible iron entrance gate remains, as does that great brick wall that embraces the property bordered by Gin Lane. Old Jessie was born too soon. With all those Woolworth billions and a palace on the beach, she  would have been in fine fettle socially today, husband or no husband.
 

Contact DPC here.

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