In the early 1900s, home builders in New York focused their efforts on the northern reaches of Manhattan, churning out speculative rows of spacious brownstones and apartment houses.
Some were designed with creativity and style; others hammered together as quickly as possible to fill with middle and upper-class tenants.
But every so often you spot a survivor of this real-estate frenzy (which all went bust by 1905, when the number of new homes exceeded demand and real-estate development went into a tailspin) that’s so decorative and imaginative, it stops you in your tracks.
That’s what happened when I encountered Arundel Court, aka 772-778 St. Nicholas Avenue—a Renaissance Revival beauty with the glorious arches of a Roman aqueduct and the terra cotta decoration of a European villa.
Though it outshines its tenement-style neighbors, Arundel Court sits on a stretch of St. Nicholas Avenue resplendent with inventive townhouses and a handful of eclectic, stand-alone mansions built by prosperous Gilded Age figures looking for extra space and hillside views far from the crowded hive of the city center.
St. Nicholas Avenue, a wide thoroughfare once famous as a road for horse racing and sleigh riding, had all the makings of the spine of a new upper-class district. Winding from Harlem to Washington Heights and under development at the turn of the 20th century, it was a place where architects could indulge their whims.
That seems to be what Henri Fouchaux did in July 1904, when it was announced that he would design a six-story, 30-unit flat—the preferred term at the time for a multifamily residence, to distinguish it from a tenement. The flat would be roughly 200 feet south of 150th Street, according to the Real Estate Record & Guide.
Fouchaux isn’t well-known in contemporary New York City. But at the turn of the 20th century, this American architect born to French parents was a prolific designer of factories, institutional buildings, and residential properties, especially in the developing neighborhoods north and west of Central Park.
He seemed to be attracted to Uptown Manhattan, designing six groups of row houses and two apartment buildings on or near St. Nicholas Avenue. That’s according to the Landmarks Preservation Commission’s (LPC) historic district report from 2000 on Hamilton Heights/Sugar Hill, where Arundel Court is located.
What inspired him to create the unusual facade of Arundel Court is a mystery. He might have been struck by the grace of the High Bridge, with its harmony of arches supporting a slender span across the Harlem River.
Or perhaps he borrowed the dramatic arches from The Dorilton, a luxury apartment-hotel on West 71st Street completed in 1902 and marked by a central arch, as the LPC report suggests.
Arundel Court, a name that lent a whiff of English and French to Upper Manhattan, was completed in 1905. The building stretched back to Edgecombe Avenue and featured a similar yet much less dramatic facade (fourth photo).
Real estate ads at the time touted the 4, 6, and 7-room suites (for $40 to $70 per month). Arundel Court also boasted of an elevator and all-night “hall service,” which meant that building staff were on hand to assist residents with their needs.
Who were its earliest residents? A mix of professionals and their families who sometimes made the news.
There was the doctor whose wife planned to marry state senator Patrick H. McCannon; the banker who charged a telegraph operator with extortion; the real estate appraiser who died in his apartment and left behind eight children.
Saddest of all was the salesman who died by suicide in 1913, found “in his rooms” with “a gas tube in his mouth.” And the 1922 death of a banker’s private secretary, who had a nervous breakdown as well as “dilation of the heart.” She lived at Arundel Court with her mother, sister, and three brothers.
By the mid-1920s, the only Gotham publication reporting anything about Arundel Court was the New York Age, the leading weekly covering the city’s Black population. Fueled by the Great Migration and the availability of new housing, St. Nicholas Avenue became home to many prominent African American New Yorkers.
The Age reported on artists and musicians now living in the building, as well as the marriages, anniversaries, and funerals of residents, plus dances and other social functions held in apartments.
These days, the lower level of Arundel Court is behind scaffolding. The tiled lobby has space on the ceiling for a grand chandelier, but it’s now lit by a florescent bulb.
But sunlight and fresh air still flood the front and interior windows, and what looks like a new cornice unites the three grand arches. I don’t know what’s going on with this stunning building, but I can’t wait for its next act to be unveiled.
[Third image: NYC Department of Records & Information Services; Fifth image: New York Times]