




The only thing that makes this home’s exterior truly interesting is its unique butterfly shape, designed to conform to its site overlooking Washington, D.C.’s Dupont Circle.
Otherwise, it’s fairly standard for Stanford White‘s later work, with an overwrought mishmash of Renaissance-inspired details that appears fitful and fussy, akin to the cluttered walls of an old art gallery.
However, the marble and limestone construction is quite exquisite on close observation.
White claimed the design had a “light and rather joyous character.”2
I’m not sure about “joyous,” but I can go along with “light,” as the abundance of windows in the structure gives it an airy feel, particularly when the sun hits all five sides of the facade.

The home was built at the same time as White’s partner, Charles F. McKim, was designing the nearby East Wing of the White House, which…is no longer with us.
The Patterson Mansion is currently occupied by short-term rental units, and I hope to stay in one at some point in the future— preferably when D.C. is no longer occupied by madmen.
God knows when that may be.














You’d be forgiven for thinking these two homes overlooking Central Park are actually one. Stanford White (or his assistants, more like it) designed the residences simultaneously, cladding the exteriors in elegant white Vermont granite and matching them with the same stacked Classical orders.1
They aren’t my favorite projects by McKim, Mead & White: the firm’s work had become quite derivative by 1907, and the designs here feel overprocessed, as if sketched and refined by too many different hands. It doesn’t help that White was murdered before the homes were completed.
What makes this pair of structures important, though, is that they are among the handful of old mansions that survive in New York. Built too late for the Gilded Age, they were nonetheless conceived in its shadow—remnants of an era that will never return.








I first learned about Paley Park in William H. Whyte‘s The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces, an inspiring and formative little book that I stumbled upon years ago and still occasionally thumb through and read.
Paley Park was at the top of my list when I first visited New York, and I’ve returned many times since.

Just 4,200 square feet in size,1 it’s a perfect little slice of nature in Midtown Manhattan, with a waterfall, trees, and plenty of tables and chairs.
The park is packed every time I visit, whether on a beautiful spring afternoon or a freezing January day.



There’s been talk down in D.C. of building a big, tacky triumphal arch, but that’s just the narcissistic pipe dream of a doddering demon.
Besides, the United States already has a very fine triumphal arch—right in the heart of New York City.
The Washington Square Arch in Greenwich Village isn’t as iconic as, say, the Statue of Liberty, but I consider it a better work of art, modeled after the old triumphal arches of the Romans.
Initially designed in 1889 by Stanford White of McKim, Mead & White, a cheap wood version of the arch was first built a block north on Fifth Avenue,2 planned as a temporary structure to celebrate the 100th anniversary of George Washington‘s inauguration.3
The original arch proved so popular, however, that a group of prominent men formed a committee to build a permanent monument,4 with the first stone laid on December 22, 1890.5 6

Standing seventy feet tall and constructed of marble, the Washington Square Arch that exists today was (mostly) completed on April 6, 1892.7 8
White himself helped ceremoniously place the last three stones, including the centerpiece inscription,9 featuring words from Washington’s inaugural address:
“Let us raise a standard to which the wise and honest can repair. The event is in the hand of God.”
The quality of presidential speechwriting has really taken a nosedive, hasn’t it?

Even for all of New York’s wealth, it was a challenge to raise money for the project, which was funded entirely by private donations. The largest contribution came from Paderewski,10 a popular pianist of the 1890s—well, he wasn’t so popular with G.L. Norrman.
By the time the last stone was laid, the project’s backers were still $5000 short of the monument’s initial $128,000 cost.11 Just for some perspective: Norrman’s five-story Windsor Hotel in Americus, Georgia, finished a month later, cost an estimated $150,000.

I say the Washington Square Arch was mostly completed by 1892, because it was really finished in stages over 26 years:
Good things take time.



















Serious photographers (whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean) despise reflection shots, but I’m kind of a sucker for them.
This puddle in Washington Square provided me with the best image I’ll likely ever get of Judson Memorial Church, built in stages between 1891 and 1896.
The church is a quirky, free-wheeling design by Stanford White that combines elements from numerous Renaissance-era Italian cathedrals, all cobbled together with rich textures and finely detailed ornamentation.
White’s eclectic compositions didn’t always work, but this one is exquisite and charming, and the church has become one of New York’s most distinctive landmarks.



























The Bowery Savings Bank is a significant early work in the Beaux-Arts style, credited to Stanford White of McKim, Mead & White.
Following their monumental buildings of classical inspiration for the World’s Columbian Exposition in 1893, the firm entirely embraced Roman and Renaissance influences in their designs, ushering in the Beaux-Arts movement that dominated American architecture for decades.
By the time of White’s death in 1906, the firm’s work had become increasingly derivative and dreary, but this structure was designed early enough to retain some of their initial flair for quirkiness and originality: the front doors set slightly off-center within a recessed arch, for instance.

Built in the shape of an “L” and composed of granite and Indiana limestone, the Bowery Savings Bank has two entrances, neither of which resembles the other—a larger side entrance on Grand Street, and the smaller, more interesting Bowery side.
It appears the building was largely designed by Edward P. York, then White’s assistant, who also supervised its construction. York would later become a founding partner in the architectural firm of York & Sawyer.7
Ever the playboy, in the mid-to-late 1890s, White increasingly delegated his work to his employees while indulging in a lavish lifestyle of excess and consumption—it didn’t end well for him.























