Fifty-Five Years Living in Murray Hill

Thayer’s story

In November of ‘65 Ed and I were married and living in a small brownstone apartment with three dogs, two cats and his visiting children on weekends.

My dream was to live married life in a house, and so we set upon finding a townhouse that we could easily divide into two apartments to co-op or rent. As it turned out, the Designer Celanese House at 111 East 35th Street was for sale after suffering a fire. The joke was it was clearly a single-family home, much larger than we had talked about and certainly more expensive. It took less than twenty-four hours to say yes to buying what was to become our home for the next fifty-five years. What an undertaking, both financially and emotionally! I won’t say that it was all fun but over the many years of renovation it became our home and our community.

Murray Hill was little known to most New Yorkers. If you shopped at B. Altman’s or Lord and Taylor you still wouldn’t know Murray Hill because you would have entered on Fifth Avenue, very different than the many townhouses and brownstones lining the side streets from 35th Street up to 42nd Street. The Morgan Library, built in 1909, was a little-known museum until 2006 when the Renzo Piano renovation and expansion put it on the map, bringing notice to the small and distinct community.

What I remember so clearly was how quiet our neighborhood was, especially on Sundays, when all the stores and supermarkets were closed. Remember, this was the ‘60s, no shopping on Sundays, theater was open for matinee shows and movie theaters, many restaurants were not. It was a time for family, and we would gather in our new but not fully renovated house, with children and many pets roaming throughout.

When Ed became the president of The Murray Hill Association, we enlarged our family of friends with many of our neighbors and we became a community with the purpose of enhancing our environment. In the ‘70s we started the first block party with themes such as Country Western with square dancing and picnic lunches, All French, starring a Courrèges fashion show, with us as the models, crepes and cassoulets for eating. The food was made by the members and everyone WORKED—WORKED and WORKED some more. It was so much fun; people came from all over New York to our parties. They were successful in every way, bringing monies and people together for a greater good.

Today Murray Hill is surrounded by towering new buildings housing young working adults, bringing quite a different vibe. I wonder if they have any idea why they feel safe and at home here with us.