Illustrations from "The French Plan"

 

Today's post deals with illustrations found in the book, The French Plan, and we have chosen some pictures that are rarely seen. The first depicts the North Park ‒ through the branches can be seen The Manor.  

The Tenth Unit is Essex House (that's The Woodstock rising behind it).

Haddon Hall, Hardwicke Hall and Hatfield House, the 3Hs, aka the Eighth Unit.

The Hermitage assumes Sixth Unit status.

The Eleventh Unit was never built, but was still being talked about in 1929 as an option. See our earlier post here.

Showing The Manor, No. 45 and No. 25. 

For more about the French Plan, see here.

More MISCELLANY

Another serving of items from times past and present.

First, there is this picture of the Tudor City neighborhood. The smokestacks of the ConEd plant were painted red, white and blue, how festive! 

     

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Made in in 1920s, this photo depicts the intersection of 42nd Street and 1st Avenue. Going north are three titans of meatpacking industry: New York Veal & Mutton, United Dressed Beef Company, and Wilson & Company. As for the building with the billboards, the main one advertises a Brake Specialist, while the others are indecipherable.   

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From the New York Times, March 24, 1927 [six months before opening].

The Tudor City businessman may commute for two months and still not travel as far as the average commuter does in a single day. For his commuting to the great midtown business district consists of a five-minute walk.

Tudor City has the dignity and repose of Park Avenue, but a more convenient ‒ quieter ‒ and with materially lower rentals.

Tudor City will be under the single management of the FRED F. FRENCH Companies, the guarantee of a most efficient service. . .

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Another item has turned up for the elusive Woodstock Tower Restaurant, this postcard of its interior.

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Finally, we have Missy Peregrym, one of the leads in the TV series FBI, photographed with the owner of the Tudor City Steakhouse, Mirso Lekic. 

TUDOR CITY vs. the SUBWAY, Part 4

Today, a fourth installment of ads stating the advantages of living in Tudor City and walking to work as opposed to living elsewhere and riding the subway to work. These ads ran in 1928 and 1929, but they ceased being an issue after that. 

    

Long ago, strap-hanging, as practiced in the best circles, was a gentle affair. Grasping his strap lightly in the left hand, the exponent gracefully swayed with the movements of the car, immersed in dreamy meditation or negligently reading a paper. Today ‒ what a difference. The era of strenuous strap-hanging is here. Now he fights his way to a favorable position and, holding on like grim death, is buffeted, pushed and shoved, swung off his feet, pummeled and trodden on. Emerging to light and air, limp, hot and exhausted, more fit for a hospital than an office. . .

After all, why should you? Very few hours are left for rest and recreation after the day's work is done. Why spend them jammed in a train?

You don't have to ‒ now. There is Tudor City, high, quiet and airy on the East River front, and within walking distance of wherever you want to go. . .

"Under whacky matches this afternoon, the Wall Street aggregation rode roughshod over the 42nd Street contingent, a pretty example of straight line-plunging as the old Grand Central Station has ever witnessed. Time and again the mighty Midtown Machine was thrown back before it could reach the doors as the Brokers proved their mettle before a capacity crowd of 80,000."

But even a sports writer wouldn't find the subway picturesque more than once; and the man is yet unborn who finds it comfortable. If you are one of the unsung gladiators who fight this battle twice a day, you'll thank us for this advice: Live in Tudor City. Save your time and strength for things that count. . . .  

If I miss you, I'll be late to work. Or home. Back and forth, always dependent on factors beyond your control. Traffic, motormen, schedules, connections, timetables. Why not live where you can walk wherever you want to go?. . .     

The largest gangplank in the world goes up to clicking turnstiles. All the disadvantages of a world tour and none of the advantages. What if you can ride twenty miles underground for a nickel? It isn't worth it.

Do you do this twice a day? And if so, why? You don't have to. Live in Tudor City, and walk wherever you want to go. . .

Artifact: WOODSTOCK TOWER Floor Plans

Artifact of the day is this book of floor plans for Unit No. 7, Woodstock Tower. Oddly enough, there are not any other words of explanation to be found on the pages that follow, just floor plans. 

 

First up is the second floor, which is comprised of eighteen living rooms [now known as studios]. Of these, four units were billed as the one-room apartments of the future ‒ the corner units ‒ with 31-foot long living rooms lined with five windows.     

There was certainly no doubt about it, the apartment of the future (left) was nearly twice as big as the regular studio apartment (right).

From there, we move to the top of the building for the apartments on the 31st and 32nd floors. There are only two apartments available on these floors, a two-bedroom and a one-bedroom.

The two-bedroom in close-up. They even throw in a dining nook.

Its next-door neighbor, the one-bedroom unit. It comes complete with a very long closet.

The back page is blank, save for the Fred F. French monogram. 

BRAND AWARENESS

Today, a study of Fred F. French's monogram, as seen on tableware from his restaurants. And what better way to do it than from the collection of David Reiff, a longtime friend of this blog. Thank you, David!

We begin with an item rarely seen, a juglike vessel with a sturdy handle, perhaps for ice water service.  

French's monogram appears just above the fixture's lip.

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A tray used in one of the colony's restaurants. 

A clear impression of the monogram.

And on the reverse, the manufacturer takes credit. 

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Above, a coffee pot, and below, its version of the monogram.

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Finally, a version of the French monogram painted on china.    

A beautiful rendition of the monogram.

 

On the reverse, it's Lamberton Scammell china "made for Fred F. French Companies, Tudor City." 

MISCELLANY Deluxe

 Some odds and ends. . .

First is this latest addition to No. 5, an example of heraldry that replaced the original terra cotta figure which lasted nearly 100 years. 

The East River is home to a rainbow, in a photo taken from No. 25 by Sally Hill. Thanks, Sally!

This colony artwork was published in 1939, the first year of the New York World's Fair, and reflected city optimism. Other images were used to illustrate a brochure and menu covers.  

An early example of fake Tudor City, The Tudor Shoppe had a name that somehow convinced people it was affiliated with the community. It wasn't, and it didn't last, but at least it got mentioned in a New Yorker story.

A rarely seen photograph of cartoonist Will Eisner in his Tudor City office, a one bedroom apartment in No. 5. Eisner created his masterpiece, The Spirit, here. However, his fame came years later, for The Spirit never ran in New York. It was not until 1965, with the publication of The Great Comic Book Heros, that this forgotten strip became legendary. More on Eisner here.

More TUDOR CITY Suppliers

This entry is really a continuation of a recent post on Bigelow-Hartford Rugs and Carpets. There were other companies who supplied their merchandise exclusively to Tudor City ‒ only their product was not as glamorous as the stained glass or the Frigidaires that captured the public imagination. Here are some examples:  

First, a salute to Patterson Hot Water Heaters, which supplied heaters to Tudor City, "America's greatest hotel and apartment development." And, of course, it was "another great endorsement" for the Patterson-Kelley Company. 

The product named was named Anti-Hydro, and it was added to cement mortar to "protect brick against dampness and efflorescent stains." As a bonus, the "brick joints are made absolutely waterproof." 

 

Then there was the case of Wilson Diffuselite Blinds versus Columbia Venetian Blinds, which both ran ads claiming to supply Tudor City with their product. Which company it was is anyone's guess; the top ad is from May, 1929 and below, from November, 1929.

Finally, we conclude with a 1928 ad from Fenestra casement windows. "Sophisticated New York displays pardonable conceit in the possession of Tudor City, gigantic apartment development, overlooking the East River," the ad stated. It went on to say that over 9,000 casement windows went into Tudor City. That's a big order.

Introducing BIGELOW-HARTFORD RUGS

We thought we had covered all the original manufacturers of note in Tudor City until we came upon the following ad from Bigelow-Hartford rugs and carpets.

Bigelow-Hartford rugs and carpets was once the single largest manufacturer of carpeting in the United States. From its founding in 1914, it was flying high in September, 1929 when this ad ran.  

For "A CITY WITHIN A CITY"

Tudor City, the astonishing real estate development of the Fred F. French Companies is one of the wonders of modern New York. Within a comparatively few years, a large area at the east end of 42nd Street has been converted from a section of dilapidated tenement houses into one of the city's finest residential districts.

In this project, Bigelow-Hartford rugs and carpets have played a part of no little importance, for they are used exclusively in every one of the Tudor City buildings. Foyers, corridors and furnished apartments. . . all decorated in the best of taste. . . are provided with floor fabrics from the Bigelow-Hartford looms.

More convincing than the strongest written testimonial, this indication of confidence in Bigelow-Hartford rugs and carpets is shared by hotel men the country over. They know that in the floor coverings of this century-old institution they receive full value in quality. . . in style. . . in durability.            

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A year goes by and thanks to a merger with a competitor, the company is now known as Bigelow-Sanford Rugs and Carpets. The ad copy remains pretty much the same. 

Hotel Tudor / Twelfth Unit / Tudor City

. . . and it's just as beautiful on the inside.

The opening of unit number twelve makes it possible for more discerning New Yorkers to "live in Tudor City and walk to work". . . to live comfortably and well in surroundings of tasteful luxury.

Bigelow-Sanford rugs and carpets play no small part in creating, and maintaining, the Tudor City atmosphere of charm. Theirs is a style that wears well. Their authentic patterns and colors will be good style for a long, long time . . . and well-preserved style, for superb construction insures a fresh "new" appearance for years.

Follow the example set by leading hotels and apartments throughout the nation. Choose from Bigelow-Sanford's unequalled variety.  

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Bigelow-Sanford unfortunately never recovered from the Depression, and finally sputtered out in 1971. It lives on in that enchanted Tudor City frame of mind ‒ along with Gorham silver, Fenestra windows, Frigidaires, Murphy beds, Standard Sanitary fixtures, Lamberton Scammell china, and Atlantic Terra Cotta.

Anatomy of a Drypoint Etching

This edition of Tudor City art features a return to Building a Babylon, a drypoint etching by Martin Lewis. Exhibited in his solo show of 1929, where he first made his name.

Herewith, the full image as seen from 1st Avenue and 41st Street. Below, the anatomy lesson.

The Woodstock stares out at No. 25 vacantly. At the time of this etching, there's not a single light on, indicating it's a building in progress. No. 25, by contrast, is alive with lights.

The building in the 41st Street cul-de-sac was apparently some kind of storage hut for the impending coming of No. 5. All of the lights are on here.

Pulled back to show it's a long way down.

Beneath, a labyrinth of shapes of all kinds.

The sole figure in the composition is at the lower left. 

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More about this artwork from our earlier post, here.