Gracie Mansion
Based on Wikipedia: Gracie Mansion
For a few decades in the early twentieth century, one of the most elegant Federal-style mansions in New York City served as a public restroom. Visitors to Carl Schurz Park could pay five cents to use the facilities inside a crumbling house that had once hosted Alexander Hamilton, John Jacob Astor, and a future king of France. The paint was peeling. The porch sagged. Neighbors petitioned to have the eyesore demolished.
Today, that same building is Gracie Mansion, the official residence of the mayor of New York City.
The story of how a country estate built by a Scottish merchant in 1799 became the seat of executive power for America's largest city is a tale of war, bankruptcy, explosions, and a surprising number of secret tunnels.
Before Gracie: The Mansion That Vanished
The site has been occupied by European settlers since 1646, when a man named Sybout Claessan received a land grant from the Dutch West India Company. The area was called Hoorn's Hook, named after a city in North Holland, and it sat on a high point overlooking Hell Gate—a treacherous tidal strait in the East River where the waters of Long Island Sound clash with those of New York Harbor. The name Hell Gate probably derives from the Dutch Hellegat, meaning "bright passage" or possibly "hell's hole," depending on which etymology you prefer.
In 1770, a Brooklyn merchant named Jacob Walton built a grand house on eleven acres of this land. He called it Belview Mansion, and from surviving drawings, it appears to have been quite the showpiece: a two-story central section flanked by one-story wings, decorated with ornamental keystones above the windows and a weather vane on the roof.
Walton and his wife Polly Cruger enjoyed their elegant country retreat for just six years.
When the American Revolution erupted, the Waltons fled in February 1776. Continental Army soldiers transformed their home into a fortification, taking advantage of its commanding view of the East River. The house survived the initial militarization, but on either September 8th or 15th of that year—records conflict—British cannonballs tore through Belview Mansion. The structure was so damaged that the Waltons never returned.
What the Waltons left behind, though, was remarkable: a secret brick tunnel running from the mansion's basement north toward the East River before turning east and descending to the water's edge. No one knows for certain why it was built. Historians have speculated it served as an escape route during the Revolution, or perhaps as a clandestine entrance for illicit visitors. The tunnel would still be there, hidden beneath the earth, when the next mansion rose on the same foundations.
Archibald Gracie and the Golden Age
Archibald Gracie was, at the turn of the nineteenth century, one of New York's wealthiest men. A Scottish-born merchant who had made his fortune in transatlantic trade, Gracie purchased the ruined Walton property in two transactions in late 1798 and early 1799. Whether he demolished what remained of Belview Mansion or incorporated its bones into his new structure remains historically murky, but what emerged was a handsome Federal-style country house commanding views of Hell Gate and the swirling waters below.
Federal style, in architectural terms, refers to an American interpretation of neoclassical design that dominated from roughly 1780 to 1830. Think symmetrical facades, refined proportions, and decorative elements borrowed from ancient Rome—but rendered in the practical materials available to young American builders. Clapboard siding instead of marble. Shutters instead of columns.
Gracie's mansion served as his country retreat. His city residence was several miles south in Lower Manhattan, first a house rented from Mayor Richard Varick, later a property at 1 State Street, and finally 15 State Street. In an era before rapid transit, "several miles" meant the mansion was genuinely remote—accessible primarily by boat. This isolation proved useful during the yellow fever epidemic of 1803, when Gracie could escape the infected crowds of the city proper.
The house evolved over time. Originally facing southeast, it was expanded in 1804 to face northeast toward Hell Gate. By 1809, the property was valued at $5,200. Further renovations in 1811 relocated the main entrance, added a pantry and parlor at ground level, and created two new bedrooms upstairs. During the War of 1812, cannons were installed on the grounds to defend this strategically elevated position.
But it was the guest list that made Gracie Mansion legendary.
Alexander Hamilton dined there. So did John Jacob Astor, who would become the wealthiest man in America. Louis Philippe, the Duke of Orléans, visited while in American exile; he would later become King of the French. John Quincy Adams stopped by before his presidency. The writers James Fenimore Cooper and Washington Irving were regulars—Irving may have written portions of his book Astoria while staying at the house, and he described it in 1813 as "sweet and delightful... pure air, agreeable scenery and profound quiet."
Future Boston mayor Josiah Quincy III called the house "elegant" and praised the "tasteful layout" of its grounds. The poet Thomas Moore visited. General Winfield Scott, hero of multiple American wars, was a guest. The house could accommodate up to fifty people at a time, and by all accounts, Gracie was a generous and enthusiastic host.
The Fall of House Gracie
Archibald Gracie's wealth, though vast, was not invincible. In 1807, he lost a million dollars due to naval blockades—an enormous sum, equivalent to roughly thirty million dollars today—but his fortune was so substantial that he barely noticed. The War of 1812, however, proved more devastating. His merchant firm hemorrhaged money as Atlantic trade collapsed, and by 1823, Gracie's finances were depleted.
The mansion passed briefly to Rufus King, one of the Founding Fathers, whose two sons had married two of Gracie's daughters. King placed it for sale in April 1823. The next month, Archibald Gracie & Son was formally dissolved.
Gracie died in 1829. His final city residence at 15 State Street would later be incorporated into the Shrine of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton. His country house would endure a more complicated fate.
The Foulke and Wheaton Years
Joseph Foulke purchased the property in 1823 for $20,500, acquiring the house and about eleven acres of land. The area became known as Foulke's Point. Foulke had accumulated his wealth through trade in Central America and the Caribbean—trade that, the historical record makes clear, was built substantially on the exploitation of enslaved people.
The Foulkes initially used Gracie Mansion as a summer residence, commuting from their city home when the weather turned warm. Eventually they moved in year-round. They added a fireplace mantel in the parlor but otherwise left the structure largely unchanged. When Joseph Foulke died in 1852, the estate was divided among his seven children.
In 1857, the family sold the house to Noah Wheaton, a builder who also purchased twelve adjacent lots. By this time, the gracious country estates along the East River were giving way to industrial development. The old world of gentlemen farmers was ending.
Wheaton made significant improvements: a two-story brick stable north of the mansion, a proper kitchen inside the house, and gas lighting throughout. But his financial situation was precarious. He declared bankruptcy in 1859, and the house went into foreclosure two years later. The Great Western Insurance Company, which had foreclosed on the property, eventually resold it back to Wheaton in 1870, and the family remained through the 1880s.
The census of 1870 records Noah Wheaton living in the house with his wife, three daughters, and two servants. His daughter Alice and her husband Lambert Quackenbush resided there for five years during the 1870s; their two oldest children, Amalie and Daniel, were born under Gracie's old roof. But the pattern of Wheaton's life was one of persistent business troubles, mortgages, and near-failures. The family may have briefly vacated the house during one particularly dire episode in the 1870s.
In 1884, Wheaton's youngest daughter Jane married a lawyer named Hamlin Babcock, who moved into the mansion and stayed until 1896. That year, the New York City government acquired the house and its grounds.
The Ignominious Years
The city had been converting the land northeast of 86th Street and East End Avenue into what would become Carl Schurz Park since 1891. Adding Gracie Mansion to the park seemed logical enough. But what to do with an aging wooden house?
According to Susan Danilow, who directed the Gracie Mansion Conservancy in the 2000s, the city took over the property because the taxes had gone unpaid. Having acquired it almost by accident, officials had no particular vision for its use.
So the mansion became, in succession: an ice cream stand, a storage facility, a series of classrooms, and most ignominiously, a public restroom where park visitors could use the bathroom for five cents.
By 1911, the house had been fitted with steam heat and was serving as a clubhouse for girls' clubs. But the structure was deteriorating badly. The porch sagged. Paint peeled from the clapboard siding. Local residents began petitioning to have the mansion demolished entirely.
A group led by Mrs. Graeme Elliot fought for preservation.
The Museum Years
May King Van Rensselaer was a writer and, more importantly for this story, a descendant of Archibald Gracie. In 1920, she led a group called the Patriotic New Yorkers in advocating for the mansion's transformation into an American history museum. Van Rensselaer and twenty other upper-class women envisioned exhibits depicting "the guests who had been entertained there, in the costumes of the beginning of 1800."
They wrote to the Manhattan park commissioner in March 1922, requesting control of the building. A bill was introduced in the state legislature the following month.
But they had competition. The Museum of the City of New York, led by Henry Collins Brown, also wanted the property. The New York Times reported that MCNY officials were already marking their correspondence as coming from Gracie Mansion before the city had awarded control to anyone—a bold bit of presumption.
Ultimately, the Museum of the City of New York won. The 1924 Valentine's Manual declared the home "exactly the place" for a history museum. The city maintained the building while the museum furnished it with objects borrowed or donated from other institutions.
The museum opened within Gracie Mansion in November 1924. After further restoration, the house formally opened to the public in March 1927. The ground floor was arranged as a reception room, music room, and dining room. Three second-floor rooms welcomed visitors: a bedroom, a theatrical history room, and a drawing room dedicated to May King Van Rensselaer.
The mansion attracted 130,000 visitors within a year of its rededication.
Then the explosions started.
When the Army Blew Up Hell Gate
Hell Gate had been a navigational nightmare for centuries. The confluence of tidal currents created whirlpools and standing waves that had sunk countless ships since the Dutch colonial era. In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the United States Army Corps of Engineers undertook a massive project to dredge the channel, blasting underwater rock formations with explosives.
In June 1928, one of these blasts sent shockwaves through the ground beneath Gracie Mansion. The ceiling partially collapsed. The house was closed for repairs.
There was a problem: the ceiling could not be properly repaired while blasting continued. The Secretary of War denied that the building had sustained structural damage—a claim that must have seemed absurd to anyone standing beneath the fallen plaster. In 1929, the city authorized $12,000 in bonds to repair the mansion and add a fence.
The Museum of the City of New York had outgrown its cramped quarters anyway. When a new building on Fifth Avenue was completed in 1931, the museum began relocating staff. By August 1932, the museum had moved out entirely. The empty mansion was guarded only by a single watchman, and the Parks Department had no plans for its future.
Becoming the Mayor's House
In September 1934, a renovation began. Park Commissioner Robert Moses—the "master builder" whose highways and bridges would reshape New York City for the rest of the century—hired architect Aymar Embury II to design a new porch and redesign the interior. The house would become a historic house museum once again, with workers from the Works Progress Administration performing the labor.
The Works Progress Administration, commonly called the WPA, was one of President Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal programs, employing millions of Americans during the Great Depression on public works projects. These workers added new window frames, repaired the exterior, and generally brought the neglected building back to life.
The historic house museum phase lasted until 1942, when Gracie Mansion took on its current role: official residence of the mayor of New York City.
Mayor Fiorello La Guardia was the first to move in, though the idea of converting the mansion into an executive residence predated his occupancy. Since then, every mayor except Michael Bloomberg has lived at Gracie Mansion at some point during their tenure. Bloomberg, a billionaire many times over, preferred his own Upper East Side townhouse.
Most mayors have redecorated upon taking office, putting their personal stamp on the historic rooms. In 1966, a reception wing was added to accommodate the social obligations of the position. Named for Susan Wagner, wife of Mayor Robert Wagner Jr., the Susan E. Wagner Wing includes a ballroom and reception rooms designed for official entertaining.
Major renovations followed in 1983-1984 and again in 2002.
The House Today
Gracie Mansion remains a Federal-style structure with a clapboard facade and shuttered windows. The original house contains parlors, a dining room, a kitchen, and a library on the first floor. The second floor has traditionally served as bedrooms for the mayoral family. The basement houses offices for staff.
The property is owned by the city government but partially overseen by the Gracie Mansion Conservancy, a nonprofit organization dedicated to preserving and maintaining the historic house. The mansion hosts public tours, government functions, and special events.
It sits atop the highest point in Carl Schurz Park, still overlooking Hell Gate—though the channel is far less treacherous now than when Jacob Walton built his elegant Belview Mansion on the same spot in 1770, or when the Lenape peoples navigated these waters long before any European arrived.
The hidden tunnel from Belview Mansion is presumably still there, somewhere beneath the manicured grounds, a relic of a revolution that left the first house in ruins. The cannonball that destroyed Belview was eventually recovered and put on display—a memento of the violence that cleared the way for Archibald Gracie's elegant country retreat, which in turn became an ice cream stand, a restroom, a museum, and finally the home of whoever happens to be running the nation's largest city.
In New York, even the mayor's house has had to reinvent itself a few times.
The Political Symbol
Gracie Mansion has taken on significance beyond its function as housing. For New York City politicians, the mansion represents something more than square footage—it embodies the office itself, the weight of governing eight million people in the most densely populated major city in America.
The decision of whether to live at Gracie Mansion has become a statement in itself. When Michael Bloomberg declined to move in, preferring his own home, it underscored his identity as a wealthy businessman who hadn't sought the mayoralty for its perks. Other mayors have embraced the residence as a symbol of dedication to public service, of subordinating private life to civic duty.
The house that Archibald Gracie built as an escape from the crowded streets of Lower Manhattan—accessible only by boat, deliberately remote—now sits in the heart of a neighborhood filled with apartment towers and busy avenues. What was once countryside is now city. What was once a merchant's retreat is now the nerve center of municipal power.
And somewhere beneath it all, a brick tunnel still runs toward the East River, a secret passage from an age when New York was a different place entirely—smaller, younger, and fighting a war for independence that no one knew yet would succeed.