Daily News from New York, New York • 44

SUNDAY NEWS, FEBRUARY 18, 1973 151 4fa2 iiilfl i I I dL'iN lir -JB fill ll AciM NEWS photos by Jack Smith Gracie Mansion as you would approach it from East End Ave. Stately and secure tod ay, the building seemed destined for oblivion in the late 1930s. tions, guests roamed the house at will, poking into the private kitchen and bedrooms and generally making themselves too much to home. Young Duncan was forced to place a "Do Not Touch" sign on his set of electric trains; his silver baby cup disappeared, along with hundreds of ashtrays and small items slipped into the pockets of souvenir hunters; one time the mayor was accosted in the wash room by an inquisitive guest; and, to add a touch of the bizarre, one guest left behind his set of false teeth they were never claimed. Sparked by this harassment, Susan Wagner launched a drive in 1964 to add a wing to the house for public functions.

The new wing, built for $800,000 and financed by private contributions, was opened on Sept. 27, 1966. Impeccably blending with the 18th century architecture of Archibald Gracie's home, the new wing features a large ballroom, 50 by 24 feet with an 18-foot-high ceiling. This is called the Susan Edwards Wagner room. There is also a drawing room, a dining room and a meeting room, all decorated with priceless furniture of the 1800s.

A 1,100 volume library has been installed. The wing has four fireplaces and hearths from old New York houses of the 18th century. The dining table was made about 1825 by Duncan Phyfe of New York for Joseph Bonaparte, nephew of Napoleon, who once lived in Borden-town, N.J. However, before the wing that was Mrs. Susan Wagner's dream was completed, tragedy again struck the mansion.

In March, 1964, Susan Wagner died of cancer in Gracie Mansion without seeing her dream come true. Mayor Wag-ner and his sons, now young men, sadly moved out of the mansion before the mayor's term was up. Wagner went back occasionally for public functions, and it ceased to be a home but only for a short time. Mayor Lindsay, his wife, Mary, and their children took up residence there in 1966 and remain there until this day. The Lindsays use the old Gracie part of the mansion for living quarters, with the new wing reserved for public affairs and meetings.

But there have been zany happenings involving the hallowed manse. In 1969, this ad appeared in the papers: EAST END AVE. 175. Rent Controlled. Six beautiful rooms, newly renovated building; $85.23.

Apply only in person. From 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. See super. The phony ad, for the numbered address that would be Gracie Mansion, if it had a number which it doesn't drew hundreds of dupes.

A Bang-up Protest On another occasion, a young woman, roused out of sleep by the slamming of garbage cans outside her apartment in the wee small hours of the morning, simply retaliated by making a pre-dawn visit in front of the mansion. She banged on garbage can covers until arrested. It was the Lindsays who gave Gracie Mansion perhaps its greatest trip back to high society glory since the halcyon days of the Gracies a real, posh honest-to-goodness wedding! In a highly exclusive ceremony performed on the grounds on June 6, 1970, 19-year-old Katherine Hawes Lindsay was wed to Richard Lance Schaffer, a 23-year-old grad student she met at the University of Pennsylvania. There were 250 guests and the public and press were barred a decision by the mayor that must have made the spirit of Archibald Gracie swell with pride. Photographers were barred, too, but the enterprising lensmen of The News took up positions in adjacent apartment buildings, with long-range cameras.

It was said later that their bootleg pictures turned out better than those taken by the family photog! In 1966, the old mansion suffered yet another indignity. Fire Commissioner Robert O. Lowery, after an inspection tour, branded the building a firetrap. Result a $20,000 overhead sprinkler system was installed. The pristine Integrity of the house and its land were saved in 1936 when plans were announced for the construction of the East River Drive between the property and the river.

After a hue and cry, the plans were revised to provide a double-decked installation under the mansion grounds. The mansion has withstood numerous attacks from local officials. In 1942, critics yelled that the city was spending too much to change Gracie's old place into a home for mayors; the mansion food bills have been criticized; the Russian "newspaper" Izvestia described the house as being "built in the architectural style of the slave owning Queens Councilman Matthew Troy recently demanded that future mayors NOT live in the mansion. And yet Gracie Mansion, serene and wearing the cloak of quiet splendor that has characterized it since Archibald Gracie and his family built it in 1799, has been able to stand quietly above the noise. And it will be there for many more generations, the unchallenged sentinel of the river it commands.

in conversation, O'D drew the attention of the cop on duty and the boy was arrested. The mayor, however, refused to press charges. It was during the O'Dwyer tenancy that the first latter-day tragedy struck the old mansion. On Oct. 12, 1946, Bill's beloved wife, the former Catherine (Kitty) Lenihan died after a long illness, thus ending forever what had been a truly idyllic Irish romance.

Kitty's death left O'Dwyer a desperately lonely man. In fact, there were times when Bill would go out to the cop in the outside booth and invite him in for breakfast for company and conversation. Soon after his reelection in 1949, O'Dwyer, 59, openly lost his heart to beautiful Sloan Simpson, a 33-year-old former model. They were married on Dec. 21, 1949, in Florida, and Sloan became the chic hostess of Gracie Mansion.

After many turbulent years and charges of scandal, the O'Dwyers left the old house when Bill was appointed Ambassador to Mexico by President Harry S. Truman. The third tenant of Gracie Mansion was Mayor Vincent Impellitteri and his wife, Betty. Betty, who was pleased by the decorating job done by Bill and Kitty O'Dwyer, pleasantly surprised the mansion's economy minded critics by calmly accepting the decor as it ivas and not ordering an expensive repainting job. Impy Was Private Public Man The Impellitteris lived quietly, entertaining little there.

During the Impy administration, few people were invited to the city's "White House." All that changed in 1954 when Mayor Robert F. Wagner, his wife, Susan, and their two sons, Robert, 10, and Duncan, 7, moved into the grand old house to begin the longest tenancy of any other mayor to date. Perhaps for the first time since the family of Archibald Gracie cavorted on the lawn and raced through the rooms of the house, a strong, warm life was reestablished. Mrs. Wagner, a tall, blonde, lovely woman who always seemed to realize her -position as the city's first lady, was also a practical mother.

Cognizant of the problem of rearing two active young sons among the priceless museum treasures in the house, she sent most of them back to the museum. The Wagners threw Gracie Mansion open to the public, holding many public functions there and allowing various philanthropic and civic groups to use the mansion and its grounds for fund-raising events an innovation that created many problems ranging from ludicrous to serious. i On many occasions Mrs. Wagner Unaware that her husband had called a morning business meeeting downstairs would be caught in her housecoat. She finally retreated to having breakfast in bed to avoid, scrutiny by.

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