950 St. Marks Ave, composite

A look at Brooklyn, then and now.

I freely admit to a fascination with St. Marks Avenue in Crown Heights North. Along the length of the street, between Rogers and Albany Avenues, lay opulent real estate belonging to some of the wealthiest people in Brooklyn during the Gilded Age of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

These residences often make up this Past and Present column because with rare exception, they are all gone. Only photographs, written descriptions and perhaps a few undiscovered photographs remain. Here’s another to add to the list.

Not only is this enormous house gone; the photograph shows it after a disastrous fire that gutted it in 1898. This 1905 photo shows the house just before it was torn down, and replaced by the handsome flats buildings that stand now. In fact, nothing in this photo is still standing, except the row houses in the background.

That’s another thing about St. Marks Avenue that makes it so fascinating and unique. The huge mansions are gone, but with few exceptions, they were all replaced by attractive, even elegant buildings. We may not have the houses of the rich to gawk at anymore, but we did get some fine architecture in return.

The mansion was the “look at me!” house of William Eggert, who had it built in 1886. He purchased the land in 1884. It was a large plot; 105×255 feet, facing St. Marks, and carrying through to Prospect Place. I found the land sale, but could find no record of the architect of this large project. The address was 950 St. Marks Avenue.

950 St. Marks Ave. 1888 map. New York Public Library
950 St. Marks Ave. 1888 map. New York Public Library

The house itself was huge. It had two flanking tower bays, and was basically a huge four story cube with a wide back extension, itself another cube. It was not a particularly beautiful house, in fact, some of its features, including the front entrance, are rather architecturally awkward and clunky. But it certainly conveyed the owner’s wealth and his idea of his position in Society. There were a lot of large houses in this neighborhood; this one, for its time, was one of the largest.

House in 1905, just before demolition. Brooklyn Public Library
House in 1905, just before demolition. Brooklyn Public Library

William Eggert had made his fortune in tobacco. He and his brother Robert were in the wholesale tobacco business on Pearl Street, in lower Manhattan, doing business as William Eggert & Co. They were among the largest tobacco houses in the city. William did what many successful people have done for centuries – he built himself a big house, and speculated in real estate.

The massive house was 48×50 feet, with a 15 foot extension. It had 29 rooms over the four floors, with a grand salon, plus a billiards room, “lover’s nook,” and the show-off media room of the day; a bowling alley in the basement.

The house was furnished with all of the finest finishings; with parquet floors, large fireplaces, lots of woodwork, modern plumbing, etc. The grounds were quite spacious, and included a stable at the rear of the property, near Prospect Place. It cost Eggert $85,000 to build the house.

William Eggert got to enjoy his palace for about seven years.

In 1896, the business hit a rocky patch, and then everything went bad. A bank called in two of their loans, and they couldn’t pay. Investigation into their books showed some creative bookkeeping, and they were sued. The nail in their coffin was a failure of the tobacco crop in Cuba that year. Their best inventory was not forthcoming, to bail them out, and they went into bankruptcy.

All of their personal assets were confiscated, including this house. It was sold at foreclosure auction and was purchased by Max Klein, a prominent Brooklyn lawyer, who got the place for $50,000 in 1896. William Eggert ended up living at nearby 1289 Bergen Street.

Klein bought the house, which even then was considered to be a white elephant. He intended to market it as an event space, like the Pouch, in Clinton Hill. That Clinton Avenue mansion was enjoying a fine reputation as the place to have a soiree, reception, dance or concert. But it didn’t work out. There were no takers, much to the relief of his St. Marks neighbors, no doubt.

An ad was placed in the Brooklyn Eagle in 1897, offering the property for rent as a private sanitarium, a school, club, or for family use. It was called a “country home in the heart of the city.” While waiting for a buyer, Max Klein fell ill in 1897. He was seriously unwell, and moved to California for his health.

Ad in Brooklyn Eagle, 1897
Ad in Brooklyn Eagle, 1897

His sister moved into the house as a caretaker, but the mansion was too big, too grand, and too lonely for her. She moved out after a number of months. The house sat on St. Marks, between Kingston and Albany Avenue – empty.

At 1 in the morning on April 7, 1898, a fire started in the house. A patrolman saw flames and smoke in the abandoned building and called the fire department. By the time they got there, flames were shooting out of the windows.

The firefighters had a hard time getting in the front door, as it was a massive oak affair, and had been securely padlocked. It took them a few minutes to take their axes to the door and break in. By that time, the entire house was on fire.

It took firefighters about two hours to put the fire out. But everything was gone. The whole house was gutted. Only the walls of the building were left. All of the elegant woodwork, fine floors and furnishings were ashes. The roof was gone, as well.

A later investigation came to the conclusion that the fire was started in the dumb waiter by mice chewing on matches. Mice had been known to start fires before, and would again and again. They liked to use matches in their nests, and then chewed the wood, setting off the heads, and starting fires. They also liked to chew wiring. Inspectors did not think this was a case of arson.

The ruins stood on this lot for another couple of years while the world changed around it. The lots facing Prospect Place were sold, and became part of a long row of two-family Renaissance Revival row houses designed by Axel Hedman on this side of the street. The mansion lot accounted for five houses.

Prospect Place Houses built on former Eggert property. Google Maps
Prospect Place Houses built on former Eggert property. Google Maps

The remains of the house were torn down in 1905, and three elegant Beaux-Arts style flats buildings went up in their place. Where one man and his family lived and enjoyed the spacious grounds, in 1886, at least 60 households now called the same space home by 1910.

Photo: Google Maps
Photo: Google Maps

Last week the two blocks that once made up the Eggert estate were both landmarked, as part of Phase III of the Crown Heights North Historic District. Which goes to show that sometimes replacements can be as good as, or better than the original. But only if you take the planning, money and care to make it so.

Photo: Google Maps
Photo: Google Maps

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