The post Today’s Alameda Treasure – 1724 Santa Clara Avenue – The Greenleaf House/Cedar Gables Inn, Part 5 appeared first on Alameda Post.
]]>Over the past four installments of this series on the unique house at 1724 Santa Clara Avenue, we’ve traced its earliest history back to 1891 when retired dentist and pharmacologist David Greenleaf (1827-1893) had the home built for himself and his family. He hired British-born architect Ernest Coxhead (1863-1933) to design a home that combined elements of Queen Anne, Shingle, and Arts & Crafts styles, resulting in a home unlike any other in Alameda. While you won’t find another house quite like it in Alameda, there is another town in the Bay Area, one with almost the same population (about 79,000) and historic preservation community as Alameda, where a sister-house to the Greenleaf house exists.


During my research into Alameda’s Greenleaf House, I discovered that architect Ernest Coxhead designed another house using the same plan, in 1892, for Napa businessman Edward S. Churchill. Like the Greenleaf House (today’s Girls, Inc. building), it was also originally designed as a single-family home and was later adapted for a more public use. The house in Napa is known today as the Cedar Gables Inn, and while there are some good photographs available on the inn’s website, I decided that an in-person visit would be necessary to properly cover this story for Alameda Post readers. So, on a recent weekday in December, my wife Edie and I packed our overnight bags and headed up to Napa to spend a day and night at the Cedar Gables Inn.
Edward Seward Churchill (1842-1903) hailed from Rochester, New York. In 1868 he married Mary C. Wilder (1844-1929), and they had two children, Edward Wilder Churchill in 1870 and Mary Louise Churchill in 1872. In 1875 the family moved from Rochester to Napa, California, where Edward S. Churchill took a position with the James H. Goodman bank. Upon the death of James Goodman in 1888, George Goodman (James’ younger brother) and Edward S. Churchill became the two major stockholders, each holding equal shares in the bank. In 1917 the James H. Goodman & Co. bank was sold to the Bank of Italy, which later became Bank of America. Along the way, Edward S. Churchill became a wealthy man, with the means to build two noteworthy homes in Napa, which we will be exploring in this article.

By 1889 Churchill was successful enough that he was able to have a magnificent mansion built near the Napa River on what was then called Main Street (today’s Brown Street). The river was a center of commerce at that time, and an active steamship route from San Francisco, bringing many visitors up to attend grand parties at Churchill Manor. Churchill’s home was a three-story mansion built in the Second Empire Style, including a signature Mansard roof and a central tower. With nearly 10,000 square feet of interior space, Churchill Manor was thought to be the largest residence built in Napa during the 1800s. In addition to banking, Edward S. Churchill also owned the Golden Ribbon Brewery of Napa, along with the To-Kalon Vineyard near Rutherford.
Just a few years after completing his own mansion, Edward S. Churchill had another grand home built on his property, in the backyard facing Coombs Street. This home was to be a wedding present to his son Edward Wilder Churchill and his new bride Alice Ames Churchill. Churchill Sr. had become aware of the noted architect Ernest Coxhead, and was impressed by the design of the Greenleaf House in Alameda. Coxhead applied that same design to the wedding-present house that would come to be known as Cedar Gables, after its distinctive shingle style and multiple gables.
Edward Wilder Churchill had followed his father into banking and later transitioned into the family vineyard business. The young, wealthy couple held many balls and receptions in their new Cedar Gables home, and in 1905 built an extension onto the already large house. It is not known whether this addition was also designed by Coxhead, but it increased the size of the already large house by up to a third. A historical document viewed at today’s Cedar Gables Inn states that, “Research has not revealed contemporaneous evidence that Coxhead designed the addition, and although its basic form and materials are compatible with the original house, subtle features suggest a lesser designer.” Subtle differences listed include a non-matching roofline, window placement and style, and a lack of formal interior connection between the new upper floors and the original building.
I would also add that the front elevation massing at the north (left) side of the building is a bit out of character with the rest of the building. A small setback here would have helped balance out this addition. Nevertheless, the building as it stands today is a significant contributor to the Napa historic community, and serves as an excellent example of the work of an important architect of the late 19th century. The fact that it still stands in such splendid condition is something to treasure and celebrate.

Edward Seward Churchill died unexpectedly in 1903. He had been suffering from “la grippe” (akin to the modern-day flu) and had been bedridden for days in his Churchill Manor. He went to the medicine cabinet looking for a pain killer, but in his delirious state grabbed a bottle of carbolic acid (used as an antiseptic) and drank it. While doctors were called immediately, Edward died from heart failure before reaching the hospital. He was just 60 years old. In his lifetime, though, he had achieved great success for himself and his family, and built two beautiful Victorian-era homes that still stand today, back to back, as contributors to the Napa Abajo Historic District.
After Churchill Sr.’s death, his widow Mary Wilder Churchill continued living in the manor, with her son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter Dorothy living right behind her in Cedar Gables. The young couple’s second child, Edward Wilder Churchill Jr., was born in 1908, and at some point after her husband’s death, Mary herself also moved into the Cedar Gables house. The growing number of people living in the home, along with at least one servant, made the 1905 expansion of the house a very wise move.
Dorothy Churchill (Edward and Alice’s daughter) ended up living in her grandparent’s old place, Churchill Manor until 1956, at which time the manor left the Churchill family. During her time at Churchill Mansion, Dorothy held many weddings and social events, and after the Great Depression she took on boarders to help with expenses. In 1987, Joanna Guidotti and Brian Jensen purchased Churchill Manor, and have dedicated the past 38 years of their lives to its restoration and preservation. Today, it serves as a romantic downtown Napa Bed and Breakfast that also hosts weddings and special events.
Research has not revealed exactly when the Churchills moved out of the adjacent Cedar Gables house, but in 1932, Ella Ballmer took possession of that house and converted it into a residential hotel. The expansive ground floor rooms were rented out for dinners, parties, dances, and club meetings, and renovations were done to add more bedrooms. Ballmer lived in the house with her husband Emmanuel, and they rented out rooms to single working and middle-class people. Later, Cedar Gables rented out offices in addition to living space, and the Unitarian Church held services there. The fact that Cedar Gables was sold in 1932 to the Ballmers suggests that was the time when the large Churchill property, comprising both the Churchill Manor and Cedar Gables house, was for the first time split into two separate properties, as they remain today.
In the late 1960s, furnished apartments in Cedar Gables were being advertised for $15 a week. By 1977, the exterior was still in mostly original condition, but the original wrought-iron perimeter fence was gone, untrimmed trees crowded the property, and the lawn was not maintained. At some point after 1977, the plain Tuscan columns supporting the front tower (the same kind that can be seen at the Greenleaf House in Alameda) were replaced with more ornate fluted columns. By 1983, rooms were still being rented to lodgers, there were professional offices in the house, wall-to-wall carpeting covered the original pine floors downstairs, and the owners lived onsite. Those owners then applied to convert Cedar Gables into an eight-room inn. It became the Cedar Gables Inn at that point, and has continued as a bed and breakfast inn ever since.
After years of admiring the Greenleaf House in Alameda, and months of studying it and its architect Ernest Coxhead for this series of articles in the Alameda Post, it was a real thrill to pull into Napa on a sunny December afternoon and drive down Coombs Street, named after Nathan Coombs, a California pioneer who founded the city of Napa in 1847. As we looked for 486 Coombs Street, I eagerly scanned the historic neighborhood for the first sign of the prominent tower of the building, its most commanding feature. And then, there it was. Like meeting a long-lost relative at a family reunion, I suddenly recognized the sister of the Greenleaf House on our right, in all its glory. Like a fraternal twin, it didn’t look exactly like its sibling, but it was definitely a twin.

Entering the colonnaded portico and ringing the doorbell of the Cedar Gables Inn gave me a sense of déjà vu, for it was only a month earlier that I had visited the Greenleaf House in Alameda, and been given a tour by Girls, Inc. CEO Jennifer Pigza (see Part 4). Entering the Cedar Gables Inn and being greeted by manager Nicole Boyle, I felt that I already knew the layout of this place. And yet it had some intriguing differences.
Entering a grand home like this at ground level, instead of via front steps, is unusual for a Victorian-era building. The genius of Coxhead’s design is that the redwood-paneled vestibule acts as a transitional space before ascending a short staircase up to the living room. In this vestibule/anteroom, one could hang up their coat, put down their keys, and perhaps proceed through a door straight ahead, where a small washroom could be used to freshen up, and a trunk room could be accessed to put away luggage. Servants could also proceed directly to the kitchen or to the servant’s staircases from here. Coming back into the vestibule, one can then proceed up a half-level staircase to the main room.
Gazing at the redwood-paneled grandeur of the main room of the Cedar Gables Inn, I was struck by the realization that this building is all about “levels.” Its open and inviting feeling was created by Coxhead’s use of multiple half-levels to create a feeling of “flow” from one area to the next. After coming up a half-level from the vestibule, one notices that they can remain in this comfortable living room, or climb up one more half-level to a mezzanine, where a built-in bench awaits at the top, along with a cozy sitting room to the right. That semi-circular sitting room is actually inside the tower we had just admired from the outside. From this mezzanine level, there is yet another flight of stairs to climb, this one leading to the upstairs bedrooms. All in all, counting the basement, this home has five levels—basement, ground level entry, main level, mezzanine, and upstairs bedrooms.
Architectural historian and professor Richard Longstreth once said of this design, “The building’s plan, in which a single multi-function two-level space extends the length of the main elevation, is its most remarkable design feature. Partitions define but do not fully enclose the dining room, demonstrating the architect’s pioneering facility with open plan interiors. The sophistication of this plan would seldom be matched until Frank Lloyd Wright’s Prairie Houses after the turn of the century.”

After we checked into our very large lower-level room in the section of the building expanded in 1905 and once used as a tavern, manager Nicole offered us a tour of the rest of the inn. The rooms were completely unoccupied on this Thursday afternoon, so we were able to see every nook and cranny of this fascinating old inn, complete with narrow, winding staircases, original fireplaces and furnishings, and “no-two-rooms-alike” charm. Some rooms were small, some were large, some had interesting angles and slopes from the gables above, some had luxurious soaking tubs, and all had at least some kind of view into the historic neighborhood outside.
Afterwards, Nicole gave us some advice on local sightseeing, including neighborhood walks, hikes, and places to eat, before leaving for the night. She’d be back in the morning to have coffee ready by 8 a.m. Breakfast would normally be served at 8:30 and 9:15 seatings. Since there were no other guests in any of the other 10 rooms on this night, we had the whole place to ourselves, which was a special treat. Plenty of time for a historian like me to fully inspect, photograph and appreciate this historic property – at least the publicly available areas.

While these two Ernest Coxhead-designed homes were built during the same time period, 1891-1892, using the same design, there are differences between the two properties, both in their original design and later alterations. Looking at the buildings from the front, one can see the same basic form, but with some noticeable differences. The distinctive tower and colonnaded entry is a common element, but the different placement of windows in the tower hints at a different design inside. The Greenleaf House uses the tower as a spiral staircase to the upper level, with a large leaded-glass window lighting this space along with the hall above, while the Cedar Gables Inn divides the tower into two levels inside, with one being a mezzanine-level sitting room, and the other comprising an upper-floor bedroom.
Another major difference is the roof, which in the case of the Greenleaf House is more of a steep-sided hip roof, while the Cedar Gables Inn has true gables at each end. Looking to the left of the front entry, one can see similarities in the leaded glass windows, brackets, brickwork, and diamond-patterned shingle work. A difference here is how the living room windows extend higher up on the Cedar Gables Inn as compared to the Greenleaf House. And while the Cedar Gables Inn now has a large addition on its north (left) side, it originally had a smaller, enclosed porch-like room there, more akin to what the Greenleaf House has now. In their original forms, before changes and additions, these two homes were much more alike than they are today, even with some differences right from the start, likely stemming from suggestions from the architect and requests by the original homeowners.
Entering the open-plan living rooms space, one of the main differences noted here is the smooth coved ceiling of the Cedar Gables Inn, which is in contrast to the Elizabethan-style ceiling of the Greenleaf House, with its wood moldings, plaster-cast flowers, and letter “G” motifs (for Greenleaf). Each ceiling is different and beautiful in its own way. Another difference inside is at the mezzanine level, where a cozy sitting room occupies the tower that in the Greenleaf House is a grand spiral staircase. Instead, the Cedar Gables Inn utilizes an attractive three-level staircase to the upper level, complete with a newel post featuring a built-in antique lamp, and full wall of leaded-glass windows to light the way up. Once again, neither design difference is “better,” but each is unique and beautiful in its own way. This is why an experience of this very special Ernest Coxhead design is not complete without experiencing both of these homes, built during the peak creative period of the architect’s career.
Although used for different purposes now, the room layout on the main level of the Cedar Gables House is quite similar to that of the Greenleaf House. The living room, dining room, kitchen, study, and sun porch are all in basically the same form in both houses. The differences are found in the fact that a large addition has been made to the north end of the Cedar Gables Inn, along with more bedrooms added to the upper level. The Greenleaf House is still in its original form of four upstairs bedrooms (plus a maid’s room), while the Cedar Gables Inn has been expanded to a total of 11 guest rooms, plus an owner’s suite (added to the south end of the house) and a manager’s bedroom.

One of the wonderful aspects of a stay at the Cedar Gables Inn is its location in a historic neighborhood, eminently walkable and filled with noteworthy old homes of great beauty and charm. The City of Napa describes the neighborhood this way: “The Napa Abajo Neighborhood is bounded on the west by Franklin Street and South Jefferson Street, on the south by West Imola Avenue, on the east by the Napa River, and on the north by Division Street. It was originally settled in the mid-1800s just before the City’s incorporation. It has always been primarily a residential neighborhood, with many examples of period architecture. It is part of the National Register of Historic Places and has many homes that are on the Registry. It is known for its wide, tree lined streets and its multicultural makeup.”
According to a 1997 document from the National Register of Historic Places, this district contains 604 buildings constructed during the past 160+ years. Of the 362 residential buildings facing streets, 249 contribute to the historic character of the district. That number may be higher today, thanks to preservation efforts over the years since the district was listed in the Registry. It was a wonderful way to spend a sunny afternoon in December, as Edie and I first walked west to Fuller Park, then north into downtown Napa, then finally east, crossing the Napa River and visiting the CIA–Copia (Culinary Institute of America at Copia). After an Italian dinner near the Oxbow section of the Napa River, we took the riverfront walk back to the Cedar Gables Inn, by the light of holiday lights sparkling on the water.

Friday morning dawned with gray skies and rain on the way. After a good night’s sleep in the very quiet Cedar Gables Inn, we arose to find fresh brewed coffee and orange juice set up by the dining room, and a bright and energetic Nicole ready to serve us breakfast. The meal started with their signature Swiss-style muesli—a delicious blend reminiscent of overnight oats, served with fresh seasonal fruit. That course was about all I would normally eat for breakfast, but there was still another course coming. The inn’s website describes multiple breakfast options: “Sweet Options: Fluffy pancakes topped with fresh strawberries and bananas or French toast adorned with fresh strawberries and bananas (These options alternate daily). Savory Options: Our rotating savory selections may include Omelets, Avocado toast, Eggs Florentine, Huevos Rancheros.” I had the avocado toast with a fried egg on top and salsa on the side, while Edie had the pancakes.
Thus fortified, we said our goodbyes to the Cedar Gables Inn, took some last-minute photos, and headed off on a rainy day hike in Alston Park, a nearby city park featuring 157 acres of open space spread out over hills and forests, adjacent to the vineyards of northwest Napa. As we drove out of town later in the day, I was already missing the Cedar Gables Inn, and imagining what room we’d stay in the next time. After all, there are still 10 more rooms we haven’t yet stayed in.

This look into Ernest Coxhead’s two architectural masterpieces—one in Alameda, the other in Napa—started out as a look at just one house. But as is the case with so many of these stories, once you start digging into it, new information starts coming to light and the story expands, sometimes to more distant locales. Over the course of these five installments, we’ve seen how a quality building can grow with the times and perform different functions over its lifetime. Both of these buildings started out as single-family homes, and retained that role for decades until changing times created different uses for these buildings. The fact that their design still works so well to this day—in one case as the home of Girls, Inc. and in the other as a historic inn—is a testament to the timeless design of Ernest Coxhead, who created buildings that not only were functional and beautiful in their time, but also far into the future. And that is probably the greatest compliment that can be paid to an architect. Coxhead would be proud to know that the buildings he created in the 1890s are still as useful and well-loved now as they were 134 years ago. I’m so glad that in researching this story I learned about this sister-house in Napa. The story and experience wouldn’t have been complete without learning about both of these Coxhead creations, and how their histories unfolded to make them what they are today.
For more information or to book a room, visit the Cedar Gables Inn website. Some information for this article is from the history binder of the Cedar Gables Inn. Special thanks to manager Nicole Boyle for further information and a house tour. Thanks to the Churchill Manor for a tour of their property, along with a historical handout and photos. For more information, visit the Churchill Manor website.
Contributing writer Steve Gorman has been a resident of Alameda since 2000, when he fell in love with the history and architecture of this unique town. Contact him via steve@alamedapost.com. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Steve-Gorman.
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In January of 1964, a group of Alameda women gathered to discuss the various issues facing girls. As retired pediatrician Dr. Edith Meyers said, the formation of a girls club was designed to solve the problem of girls having “no place to go and nothing to do,” especially in contrast to how many activities were geared towards boys. On April 28, 1964, the Alameda Girls Club was founded and incorporated by Alameda residents Meyers, Dr. Anne Bradfield, Thelma Dyke, Helen Hoeksema, Dorothy LeHew, Bea Rowney, Reverend Franklin Scott, Barbara Stevenson, and Kay Van Valkenburg. The purpose of the new nonprofit organization was to “foster the character development of all girls through a program of educational, vocational, health, social and recreational activities.”
The Meyers sisters—Edith, Mildred and Jeanette—were strongly committed to ensuring the success of the Alameda Girls Club from the very beginning. They held meetings and fundraisers at their home at 2021 Alameda Avenue (today’s Meyers House and Garden), and with their careers in medicine, architecture, and business, they served as role models for girls. Daughters of noted architect Henry H. Meyers (1867-1943), the three sisters were active in their community throughout their lives, with Edith (1900-1971) being a pediatrician, Mildred (1898-1982) following in her father’s footsteps as an architect, and Jeanette (1905-1993) managing the family’s assets and properties.

In September 1970, the Alameda Girls Club moved into the first home of its own at 1419 Union Street. Previously, the club had been using donated space in the First Congregational Church on Central Avenue at Chestnut Street. Although they couldn’t have known it at the time, the move to the Union Street house was a move into their future in more ways than one. Not only was it the first home of their own, it also sat adjacent to, and right around the corner from, their future home at 1724 Santa Clara Avenue—the Greenleaf House. In the meantime, the Girls Club home at 1419 Union Street was dedicated as the “Dr. Edith Meyers Center” in November 1971.

In 1982, with membership expanding and the need for more space at top of mind, the Girls Club purchased the 1724 Santa Clara Avenue property from the Alameda Boy Scout Council, and moved in in January 1983. The house that had previously been named in honor of Dr. William Barclay Stephens was then renamed the Dr. Edith Meyers Center, a name it holds to this day.
What made this move particularly fortuitous was that the Girls Club had been operating nearby for the previous 12 years at 1491 Union Street, not knowing that their future home on Santa Clara Avenue was there in plain sight all along, visible from their backyard right around the corner. When the time was right, the opportunity presented itself for them to expand into the large property that today is the home of Girls Incorporated of the Island City, the evolution of the original Alameda Girls Club. The new building provided twice the floor space of their previous location, and allowed for expanded programs and hours.

The Alameda Girls Club became Girls Inc. of the Island City in 1990 when the national Girls Clubs of America changed their name, and the local affiliates followed suit. It is thought that this new name was meant to differentiate from previous Boys and Girls Clubs, and would be very obvious in their focus on girls and their specific needs. Also, the term “Club” was perceived by some as suggesting a mostly recreational organization, whereas the new name looks to a more holistic development of a girl’s life, including education and careers—especially in STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics). Finally, the organization wanted to focus on inspiring girls to be “Strong, Smart, and Bold” (the group’s motto), and promoting personal growth, academic achievement, and life skills. All in all, the new name was a rebranding and refreshing of the mission statement of a group that has been supporting and developing healthy and successful lives for girls since the first Girls Club was founded in Northern California in 1958.

Strong: So girls can try various sports and understand the importance of physical fitness, learn about nutrition and develop a healthy body image. Smart: So girls can study STEM subjects, along with learning about other cultures through geography, art, and food. Bold: To protect oneself against bullying by building positive relationship skills, learning to be aware of one’s surroundings, knowing self-defense, understanding the power of voting, and showcasing individual self-expression through arts and crafts, dance, and writing.

I met with the CEO of Girls Inc. of the Island City, Dr. Jennifer Pigza, and learned that their organization served 800 girls this year, and a total of 1,500 children across all of their programs. Their programs include Alameda Island Kids, a co-ed after-school program in five elementary schools, something they’ve been doing for close to 30 years. Girls Inc. also runs day camps during school breaks, and those are open to both girls and boys. The summer camps are girls only.
Dr. Pigza has been with Girls Inc. for about two years now, and prior to that was with St. Mary’s College in Moraga for 19 years. Her Ph.D. is in Education Policy and Leadership. She oversees a staff of 40, including those who work at the Edith Meyers Center on Santa Clara Avenue, and those working in the five schools. In addition to lightheartedly describing her job as “herding cats,” Dr. Pigza said her role is to make sure that everyone else can do their jobs. “What that means on a practical level is a lot of community relationship building, fundraising, working with the leadership team, making sure everyone has the tools and resources they need to be successful, setting the vision, and working with the board of directors,” she said.
During my visit to Girls Inc., Dr. Pigza was generous with her time and provided me with a full tour of the historic Greenleaf House/Edith Meyers Center, including not only the circa 1891 Ernest Coxhead-designed main building, but also the ancillary buildings in the back area. As one descends the back stairs to the yard, there are two buildings to the right, and one straight back. To the immediate right is building B, which is divided between storage on one side and a classroom on the other. A little further back is building C, which is also a classroom. Finally, a large building at the back is known as the recreation center, and can serve multiple activities. In between all of these buildings is a large outdoor play area where girls participate in a variety of physical activities. As we toured the property, Dr. Pigza greeted girls by name, and asked about their lives and how they are doing with various activities—a clear sign that even though she has a lot of high-level management responsibilities, she also takes an interest in each girl individually.

As we toured building B, Dr. Pigza noticed me looking up at a sign on the wall, and later gave me a printed handout of it. It was the group’s Girl’s Bill of Rights, yet another of the positive, life-affirming and confidence-building messages the organization uses to inspire the girls. According to the statement, girls have a right to (1.) Be themselves and resist gender stereotypes; (2.) Express themselves with originality and enthusiasm; (3.) Take risks and strive freely, and take pride in success; (4.) Accept and appreciate their bodies; (5.) Have confidence in themselves and be safe in the world; and (6.) Prepare for interesting work and economic independence.
The Meyers sisters—Edith, Mildred, and Jeanette—would be proud that the Alameda Girls Club they helped to found so many years ago has grown and evolved into the Girls Inc. organization that today makes a positive impact on so many young lives. Between the after-school programs, the camps, and programs like Best Foot Forward (a public speaking and leadership program), GEMS (Girls Empowerment Mentoring Support), Eureka! (a teen program), and many more, there are ample opportunities for girls to always have “someplace to go and something to do,” to paraphrase the original intent of the founders.
This story wouldn’t be complete without a word of thanks to the late Joyce Denyven (1928-2024), the longest tenured director of Girls Inc. of the Island City (formerly Alameda Girls Club), who served as Executive Director from 1971-1993. She was one of the founding members of the club, and served with Dr. Edith Meyers on the first planning committee meetings in 1964. During her long life of 96 years, Denyven not only served Girls Inc., but also was an Alameda School Board member, Alameda Boy Scout Council member, Alameda Girl Scout troop leader, Alameda Welfare Council Board member, and member of the AAUW (American Association of University Women). She was married to Dave Denyven for 76 years, had two daughters, five grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren. For her life of service, Joyce Denyven is an example of a life well-lived—one that embodied the principles of Strong, Smart, and Bold.

As we’ve seen in this story, and many others, a house is not just a house or a building. A house is a blank slate, a canvas, a container, on which a whole painting is made, a story is told, and a history written. 1724 Santa Clara Avenue may have started out as a single-family home, but over the decades it evolved into a place where countless young people have received an education (the Lona Hazard School), learned life skills (Boy Scouts, Alameda Girls Club, and Girls Inc.), and received mental health services and family support (Xanthos House and Alameda Family Services). As the home enters its 135th year at this spot on Santa Clara Avenue, the building that Ernest Coxhead designed in 1891 is still going strong, and is more vital than ever. It has a new paint job, a dedicated team, a large membership, and a mission that is more important than ever in today’s world.
As the story of 1724 Santa Clara Avenue, the Greenleaf House, continues, there’s still one more fascinating aspect to look into. After finishing this house, architect Ernest Coxhead received a commission to design a house for Napa businessman Edward S. Churchill, who had built his own Second Empire-style mansion in downtown Napa in 1889. Churchill had seen Coxhead’s work, including the house on Santa Clara Avenue, and he asked the architect to design a house just like it as a wedding present for his son, Edward Wilder Churchill. That house, today known as the Cedar Gables Inn, still stands in downtown Napa on Coombs Street, with the original house, the Churchill Manor, still standing right behind it and facing Brown Street. Once part of the same Churchill family property, the houses today are under separate ownership and are operating as inns.
When our story continues, we will take a field trip to Napa to visit the sister house of the Greenleaf House, and see how the same design has been adapted to yet another use. While both homes started out as single family residences, they have each evolved into very different uses, and it will be interesting to see how the evolution into an upscale Bed and Breakfast Inn has affected its state of preservation and historic integrity. We’ll also see if there are any significant design differences in the interior and exterior of the Cedar Gables Inn, as compared with the Greenleaf House. All of that, and more, when our story continues.
For more information on Girls Inc. of the Island City, please visit their website.
Some information for this article was gleaned from the Alameda Museum Quarterly, Fall 2014, article by Janet Thoma.
Contributing writer Steve Gorman has been a resident of Alameda since 2000, when he fell in love with the history and architecture of this unique town. Contact him via steve@alamedapost.com. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Steve-Gorman.
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Fortunately for us, this storied house has generated significant interest from historians over the years, and so we have a continuous, unbroken timeline of residents stretching all the way from its beginning in 1891 up to the present day.
As we learned in Part 1, the Greenleaf family was the very first owner in 1891, having had the unique home designed for them by noteworthy British-born architect Ernest Coxhead. After the death of her husband David Greenleaf in 1893, and then the tragic death of her son David Greenleaf Jr. in 1903, Helen Greenleaf sold the house to M. G. Martin in 1904 for $10,000.
Between 1904 and 1915, the house was rented by the Poorman family. The 1904 Husted’s City Directory lists attorney Samuel Poorman living at 1724 Santa Clara Avenue, along with Alice Poorman, student Edward Poorman, and Samuel Poorman Jr., attorney in San Francisco. By 1911 only Samuel Poorman and his son Samuel Jr. were listed as residents, and by 1914, Samuel Jr. was listed as Alameda City Attorney.
By 1916, the Poormans were out and the home was being rented by clerk Leonard D. Smith, and by 1917 Smith was listed as a structural engineer. No Husted Directories were published in 1919 and 1920, and by the time we pick up the trail again in 1922, contractor Henry W. Hazzard and his wife Lona are listed as occupants of the house. But the Hazzards weren’t just renting the house for themselves.

An announcement in the Alameda Times Star, dated June 21, 1922, is the first hint of a new era for the building that had been used only as a residence during the first 31 years of its existence. The announcement reported the City Council’s approval of a request “…that the property situated at 1724 Santa Clara Avenue be changed and reclassified from a Class I Single Family Dwelling District, to a Class IV, Kindergarten District. Ordinance No. 213 adopted and passed by the Council of the City of Alameda this 20th day of June, 1922. – Frank Otis.” Otis was Alameda’s mayor from 1919 to 1925.
The Lona Hazzard School occupied the house and grounds from 1922 to 1932. The property was still owned by M. G. Martin, but the Martin family continued to rent out the building during this period. An ad in the Alameda Times Star on October 12, 1922 describes the facility as an “Ideal day and boarding school, with spacious grounds, kindergarten and 1st grade work from 9 to 12, hot lunch, rest period, and supervised play to 5 p.m.” By 1924 the Lona Hazzard School was advertising that they offered a “school home and girls dormitory at 1724 Santa Clara Avenue,” and “classrooms and boys dormitory at 1738 Santa Clara Avenue.” The 1738 address refers to a neighboring building to the east that is no longer part of the property and no longer carries the number 1738. It was replaced with a different building in 1940 and today is an orthodontist office. But at the time, the Hazzard School used two different neighboring buildings for their girls and boys programs, including a boarding school. Both buildings may have been part of the Martin property, which was even larger than the property owned by Girls, Inc. today, and extended all the way to Union Street.

Mrs. Lona Hazzard was interviewed by the Alameda Times Star in December of 1925, and gave reasons why she felt a private school could be “auxiliary and complementary” to the public schools. Mrs. Hazzard explained that a private school, with the option for boarding, could be of benefit for a number of reasons. Among those were: “Busy Mothers—when conditions take them from home and keep their minds occupied in matters foreign to their children’s infantile interests. Nervous or Sick Mothers—Sick mothers are bound to be irritable at times. Such irritability is inevitably transferred to their children, and by them right back to their mother. Traveling Parents—Sometimes it is necessary for parents to travel. Gentleness and refinement are almost impossible for children coming in contact with conditions as are found in hotels, trains, and steamships, while school studies are out of the question. Motherless Homes—The best substitute for mother is a well selected private school.”
Mrs. Hazzard went on to explain that these adverse conditions should not be the only reason for selecting a private school. Among other benefits offered by her school, she cited smaller class sizes, less exposure to children’s diseases, dancing and music instruction, a large enclosed playground under constant supervision, and three hot meals a day.
The Lona Hazzard School seemed to closed, at least at that location, by 1932. By 1933, Husted’s City Directory shows bookkeeper David G. Martin and his wife Ruth occupying the house. As you will recall from Part 2, David Greenleaf Martin was the grandson of David Greenleaf Sr. His father had married Greenleaf’s daughter, Marianne, in 1883. A relative of his, M. G. Martin, had purchased the property back in 1904, and now, decades later, members of the Greenleaf/Martin family were once again living in the home. They enjoyed living there for about 10 years before putting the home up for sale in 1943, when it was purchased by Floyd and Edwina Larkin. Ruth Martin died in May of 1954, and her husband David G. Martin died just a year and a half later in December of 1955. They had been living in the city of Santa Clara at the time of their deaths, and were buried at Oakland’s Mountain View Cemetery. Floyd and Edwina Larkin would end up holding the record for the shortest ownership of 1724 Santa Clara Avenue at just under six years.

Dr. William Barclay Stephens (1869-1962) founded the Alameda Boy Scouts Council in 1916. Dr. Stephens was born in Paris, Kentucky, and after completing medical school at Columbia in 1893, he opened an eye, ear, nose, and throat practice in San Francisco. After a year there, he moved his practice to Alameda, where he focused on eye research. He was instrumental in founding the Alameda Sanitarium (today known as Alameda Hospital) and even had a wing named for him. Dr. Stephens had many interests, and was a long-time member of the California Academy of Sciences, where he eventually donated his vast collection of clocks, watches, and other types of timepieces. Stephens also had a philosophy that every person should have a hobby, and his was horology—the art and science of measuring time.
In 1949, after presiding over the Boy Scouts chapter in Alameda for 14 years, Dr. Stephens donated $20,000 for the purchase of a building of their own. That building turned out to be 1724 Santa Clara Avenue, and they named it the Stephens Center in his honor. The Scouts also named their camp after him, along with a 65-foot Sea Scout Ship, the Barclay Stephens.

When the Scouts moved into 1724 Santa Clara Avenue in 1950, the almost 60-year-old building had, over the years, been used as a home for multiple families, as well as a classroom and boarding school. As the Scouts adapted it for their own use, they were careful, as all previous owners and tenants had been, to respect the historic heritage of the main building. They did build a recreation center building over a former concrete swimming pool, and put up a warehouse in the area of the former tennis courts.
Between 1976 and 1982, Xanthos House (name later changed to Alameda Family Services) rented out the house, and as their time at this storied property came to a close, another group was waiting in the wings to enter at stage right, where they had been hiding in plain sight all along.

When our story of the Greenleaf House continues, we’ll learn why the Alameda Girls Club was the obvious choice to be the next owner and caretaker of this property, and how they had been standing close by for years, within sight, waiting for their moment to step up and continue the tradition of stewardship, learning, and growth at this historic spot in Alameda. We’ll also learn when and why the Girls Club changed its name to Girls, Inc., what they do today, and how they serve both boys and girls throughout Alameda—with a focus on girls, of course. All that, and more, when our story continues.
Contributing writer Steve Gorman has been a resident of Alameda since 2000, when he fell in love with the history and architecture of this unique town. Contact him via steve@alamedapost.com. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Steve-Gorman.
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As is always the case with these stories, death comes calling at some point in the narrative. While David Greenleaf had been looking forward to a comfortable retirement in his lovely Coxhead-designed home, he only got to live at 1724 Santa Clara Avenue for less than three years before he died on September 6, 1893. A handwritten letter obtained from the Alameda Museum, dated April 15, 1954, from David G. Martin (whose family owned the property from 1904 to 1942) describes original owner David Greenleaf as being “not well” in his later years, and suffering from diabetes. Perhaps with today’s better testing and treatment for the disease, Greenleaf could have lived longer than his 66 years and 7 months.
After Greenleaf’s death, his wife Helen Greenleaf remained living at the property with her son, 20-year-old David Greenleaf Jr. Her daughter Marianne was 38 years old at the time and lived elsewhere with her husband William Martin and their three children. One of those children, David Greenleaf Martin (1886-1955), the grandson of David Greenleaf, was the one who was quoted in the letter above, and who would live at 1724 Santa Clara Avenue with his wife Ruth from 1933-1942.

An article in the Alameda Daily Encinal, dated December 10, 1901 carried the headline, “Shocked by Electricity,” along with the subheading, “David Greenleaf Has a Narrow Escape from Instant Death.” Helen’s son David Greenleaf Jr. was about 26 years old at the time, and was the assistant engineer of Alameda’s electric light plant. At 7:20 a.m., Greenleaf was turning off the power to the city’s all-night streetlights, when he incorrectly used both hands to throw the switch, instead of using the required one-handed method. As his hands came down, they made contact with screws on either side, which were fully charged with current. A piercing scream was heard throughout the plant, as 2,300 volts passed across his hands, momentarily locking him in place until he could throw himself free.
Greenleaf was immediately attended to by Dr. G.P. Reynolds, who fortunately was near at hand. Had Greenleaf’s hands been just a few inches apart, the current would have passed directly though his body, instead of just his hands, undoubtedly stopping his heart and causing instant death. The flesh on his hands was said to have been badly burned and split, and it would be weeks before he could work again. With his hands swathed in bandages, he said it was a “Fool’s burn,” and that he had just done the same thing he had always warned others not to do.

An even more serious incident occurred on April 5, 1903, when David Greenleaf Jr. was riding his motorcycle from his home on Santa Clara Avenue, near Schiller Street, at a high rate of speed and attempting to pass a dairy wagon. The noise from the cycle spooked the horse, causing it to turn and move directly into the path of Greenleaf’s machine, which went out of control and careened into the horse and wagon. Greenleaf was thrown beneath the horse, and as the spinning wheels of the cycle lacerated the legs of the frightened animal, it kicked wildly, its steel-clad hooves striking Greenleaf’s body and head repeatedly.
Suffering from a fractured skull from the kicks, along with a torn ear, Greenleaf was rushed to the Alameda Sanitarium (today’s Alameda Hospital), where he was tended to by doctors A.A. Stafford and G.P. Reynolds, the latter being the same doctor who treated him for electricity burns to his hands just two years earlier. A newspaper article in the Alameda Times Star, dated April 6, 1903, reported that Greenleaf “was so severely injured late Saturday afternoon that it is feared that he cannot recover. He is at the Alameda Sanitarium and his condition is such that but little hope is entertained of his recovery.”

Although the young David Greenleaf Jr. held out for a few days at the hospital, with his mother Helen Greenleaf surely by his bedside, an announcement appeared in the Alameda Times Star on April 9, 1903 stating simply, “Died, In Alameda, David Greenleaf, beloved son of Mrs. Helen Greenleaf, and brother of Mrs. W.J. Martin. A native of Illinois, aged 28 years, 5 months. Funeral strictly private.” An article in the same newspaper came out the next day, April 10, 1903, announcing that “The funeral of the late David Greenleaf will take place at the home of the decedent’s mother, Mrs. Helen Greenleaf, on Santa Clara Avenue near Grand street. The services and interment will be strictly private.”
And so, within a period of 10 years, Helen Greenleaf had lost both her husband and her son. David Greenleaf Jr. must have been a very vital young man, as evidenced by his many medals awarded for excellence in rowing and boating, and by his enthusiasm for motorcycling. It was the latter hobby that would prove to be his undoing, and within a year Helen would sell the family home at 1724 Santa Clara Avenue to M.G. Martin for $10,000, perhaps to move in with her daughter Marianne. Helen died 13 years later, in 1917.
The historic ownership record for 1724 Santa Clara Avenue shows that the second owner was M.G. Martin, who purchased the property from Mrs. Greenleaf for $10,000 in 1904. There must have been some land held back at that initial sale though, because in 1914 there was an entry stating, “balance of land sold to Martin family.” Looking at the Girls, Inc. property today, one can see that it is a large plot of land, easily a double-wide lot by the standards of the neighborhood. Originally, though, it was even larger, and we’ll look into that in a future article. The lot that David Greenleaf purchased from the Morrill family in 1891 for $3,000 has seen many residents and uses over the decades, but one thing has held constant—the original home of David Greenleaf and family remains intact and standing tall, today used as offices for Girls, Inc.
The historic record shows that M.G. Martin purchased the property from Mrs. Greenleaf in 1904, and then proceeded to rent it out to a number of tenants for decades until 1933, when the house was owned and occupied by David G. Martin and his wife Ruth. But who was M.G. Martin? My first guess would be that M.G. Martin was an elder relative of David G. Martin, and then the younger Martin inherited the property after his relative died. The mystery is that I can’t find an M.G. Martin in the genealogical record connected directly to David G. Martin. I see a William James Martin (his father), and a Thomas Beckett Martin (his grandfather), but no M.G. Martin.
Further genealogical digging finds Minnie Gertrude Martin (1857-1934), a resident of Alameda, married to David William Martin (1849-1931), and living on Park Avenue during the 1910 census. Minnie was an Associate Conductress of the Carita Chapter, Order of the Eastern Star (associated with the Masons). They had a son, David Chester Martin, who lived from 1883-1950. This almost makes perfect sense, in terms of M.G. Martin purchasing the property in 1904 and it being inherited by her son David in 1933, if only their son was listed as David G. Martin (1886-1955), not David C. Martin (1883-1950). But almost isn’t good enough when it comes to genealogy; the match has to be exact. How David G. Martin, who lived at 1724 Santa Clara Avenue from 1933 to 1942, is connected to Minnie G. Martin is still a mystery, but there must be a family connection there.

Another interesting aspect of the ownership history of this home is the family connection between the first owners of this home, the Greenleafs, and the second owners, the Martins. In 1883, the Greenleafs’ daughter Marianne married William James Martin. They had three children, the oldest of whom was David G. Martin, whose full name was David Greenleaf Martin—the middle name honoring his grandfather, David Greenleaf Sr.
It might be a coincidence that the Greenleafs’ daughter just happened to marry someone with the same last name as the family who would buy her family home 21 years later, in 1904. But it seems a bit too much of a coincidence that their son David Greenleaf Martin would later inherit the house and live in it with his wife, before selling it in 1942. What seems most likely is that there was a longtime connection between the Greenleaf and Martin families, at least going back as far as 1883 when Marianne married William. Then, once Helen Greenleaf lost her husband in 1893, and her son in 1903, she sold her family home at 1724 Santa Clara Avenue to a relative of her in-laws, M.G. Martin, in 1904. To the best of our knowledge, that person was Minnie Gertrude Martin. At a time when it wasn’t common for women to own property, it is meaningful that the property changed hands from one woman owner to another woman owner—especially in light of the fact that the building would become home to the Girls Club (and eventually Girls Inc.) many years later.

When the story of the Greenleaf House continues, we’ll explore the complete timeline of all the different residents of the home over the years, including the Hazzard family, who established a private school there during the 1920s. Then, we’ll learn how the Boy Scout Council came to own the property, what led to the creation of a Girls Club in Alameda, and what brought them eventually to this house, and when their name changed to Girls Inc. Plus, there’s the sister-house to explore, a virtual twin of the Greenleaf House located in downtown Napa. All that, plus whatever new discoveries and historic photos that may come to light, when our story continues.
Special thanks to Beth Sibley and Myrna van Lunteren for additional historical information and photos for this series.
Contributing writer Steve Gorman has been a resident of Alameda since 2000, when he fell in love with the history and architecture of this unique town. Contact him via steve@alamedapost.com. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Steve-Gorman.
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David Greenleaf was a 64-year-old retired dentist and druggist, originally from Hartford, Connecticut, who was living in San Jose with his family when he contracted with architect Ernest Coxhead to design a home on Santa Clara Avenue in Alameda. The British-born Coxhead was a notable architect in the San Francisco area, and was at that time supervising construction of the Christ Episcopal Church right next door, at the corner of Grand Street and Santa Clara Avenue. As the story goes, Greenleaf was quite impressed with the unique design of the church, and sought out the architect and builder of that church for his own home. Sadly, that beautiful shingled sanctuary was destroyed by an arson fire in 1960, and replaced with the current church.

Work began on Greenleaf’s home shortly after the original church was finished, using the same builder, Joseph Norris. Unlike local full-service architect/builder companies in Alameda like Marcuse & Remmel, Dennis Straub & Son, Joseph Leonard & Company, and A. W. Pattiani, the method used at 1724 Santa Clara was to hire an independent architect to develop the plans, and then award the contract to a builder through a competitive bidding process. In this case, the same builder who put up Cox’s previous project—Christ Episcopal Church—was selected for the Greenleaf project.

Ernest Albert Coxhead (1863-1933) was born in Eastbourne, England, the fourth of six children. By age 15 he was apprenticed to civil engineer George Ambrose Wallis, and by 1883 Coxhead had moved to London, where he worked for architect Frederick Chancellor, a restorer of Gothic churches. While in London, Coxhead attended the Royal Academy, and the Architectural Association School of Architecture. In 1886, Ernest and his brother, Almeric William Sylvester Coxhead, moved to Los Angeles, where they established a practice and secured contracts to design a number of Episcopal churches. Almeric, who had no formal training, learned drafting on the job and supervised construction of his brother’s designs. The firm is said to have designed as many as 17 churches, 11 of which still stand today. Coxhead & Coxhead relocated to San Francisco in 1890, and this move set the stage for the building of today’s Alameda Treasure, the Ernest Coxhead masterpiece at 1724 Santa Clara Avenue.

Architecture enthusiast and journalist Dave Weinstein once wrote about Ernest Coxhead, “Few architects have created buildings as quirky, playful, and personal as Coxhead, or as historically informed and serious.” He went on to describe how “Coxhead buildings appeal to both connoisseurs and casual passers-by, with amusingly incongruous details, like an immense medieval tower delicately poised on four slender classical columns.” That particular feature is seen not only on 1724 Santa Clara Avenue, but also on the Coxhead-designed Cedar Gables Inn, located in downtown Napa. That structure, built shortly after the Greenleaf House in 1892, is a virtual twin to our Alameda Treasure. We will explore it further in an upcoming article in this series.
Coxhead was known for mixing different, seemingly incompatible styles to create something new. His aesthetics trace back to England, where the Arts and Crafts style was developing during his youth. Woody Minor says about this home: “The design sifts Queen Anne in an Arts and Crafts sieve—a medieval tower and roof with a shingle skin and an unorthodox on-grade entry. The house feels at once old and new. The compressed porch and inflated window (each accentuating the other) seem to mock cartoon castles of the day.”

What makes the Greenleaf House special to me is that there is no other house quite like it in Alameda; it is delightfully unique. It almost doesn’t look like a “home”, but rather, with its longest section facing the street and its unusual design, more like the welcoming community institution it has been for much of its existence. The original homeowner, David Greenleaf, died in 1893, just a few years after moving into his new home. His widow Helen sold the property in 1904, after the tragic death of her 28-year-old son, David Greenleaf Jr. It remained a private residence into the 1940s, save for a period in the 1920s when it served as a private school. Since 1950, it has played an important role in the community as the home of the Alameda Boy Scout Council, Xanthos House (now Alameda Family Services), and, since 1982, the Alameda Girls Club (now Girls, Inc.).

Now that we’ve introduced Alameda’s Coxhead masterpiece, the Greenleaf House, and established its provenance, there is a rich history of this building still to tell. From the untimely death of its original owner, David Greenleaf, to the tragic events surrounding the early death of his son, David Greenleaf Jr., and the home’s connection to Alameda’s Meyers family, this house has tales to tell. In addition, we’ll look into its sister house, the Cedar Gables Inn, in downtown Napa, and find the intimate family connection between it and the adjacent Churchill Manor. Plus, the 43-year history of Girls, Inc., at this location (and its 61-year history in Alameda) is a major part of the home’s history. All that, and more, when our look into this Alameda Treasure continues with Part 2.
Some material for this story was sourced from the Alameda Architectural Preservation Society (AAPS) 2018 Legacy Home Tour booklet by Woody Minor, historical writer, and Conchita Perales, Committee Chair.
Special thanks also to Beth Sibley and Myrna van Lunteren for additional historical information from the Alameda Free Library and Alameda Museum collections.
Contributing writer Steve Gorman has been a resident of Alameda since 2000, when he fell in love with the history and architecture of this unique town. Contact him via steve@alamedapost.com. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Steve-Gorman.
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Mozart Street only had a handful of houses on it prior to the 1890s. But in 1890, the relatively new firm Marcuse & Remmel (M&R) started their building boom on the street, forever changing its character for the better. Between 1890 and 1894 the team put up 12 Queen Anne-style homes on Mozart, creating one of Alameda’s finest collections of M&R homes on the island. The prices for these homes at the time ranged from $1,650 to $2,925.
Emma L. Gardner was the very first homeowner of 1528 Mozart Street, having purchased the land directly from Emil Kower, and then the house from Felix Marcuse in 1894. She lived in the home with her daughter until 1907, when a real estate listing in the Alameda Times Star, on September 17, 1907, announced, “Emma Gardner has transferred to M. I. Blotcky property on the east side of Mozart Street 287 feet south of Railroad Avenue, 37×150.” At this time, Emma moved to Oakland, and later to Paris, France, for a couple of years.
Traveling salesman M. I. Blotcky, his wife Jennie A. Blotcky, and their son Benjamin had previously been living just one block over, at 1556 Verdi Street, before purchasing 1528 Mozart Street in 1907. Newspaper articles as late as July 1908 still locate them at 1556 Verdi, but by early 1909 they seem to have finally moved into their new home on Mozart. But why were they being mentioned in the newspapers at all?

A headline in the Alameda Times Star, dated July 10, 1908, was the first sign of trouble in the household of the new owners of 1528 Mozart Street. It read, “Alameda Boy Loses His Mind,” and described how Judge Harris, at the municipal courthouse in Oakland, refused to commit 12-year old Benjamin Blotcky to the state asylum in Napa, despite pleas from the boy’s father. The judge opined that the boy’s mental condition was due to too much reading, and that a stay in the asylum would be a “dreadful blemish to be cast on this young man’s future” and that it would “cause a disgrace which he would probably never outlive.” Obviously, there were different views on mental health treatment in the early 20th century.
Despite the best efforts of Mr. and Mrs. Blotcky to help their son, by March of 1909 they were back in court once again attempting to get him committed to the asylum, where they felt he could get the help he needed. A couple of theories were offered as to why the boy refused to eat. One, offered by a doctor who described his condition as “melancholia agitata,” suggested that the trouble originated with an eye injury that Benjamin received in 1907, necessitating the use of eyeglasses. Shortly after the accident, the boy began to show peculiar symptoms and hallucinations, which so alarmed the parents that they first brought him before a judge in July of 1908, where he was nevertheless found to be sane.

A more fascinating explanation also emerged in this case, one that involved a murder that took place in the Elmhurst neighborhood of Oakland in 1907. The murder of Mrs. Vernie Carmin, a crime for which Mark A. Wilkins was convicted, was said to have claimed another victim in the young Benjamin Blotcky. The boy’s father, M. I. Blotcky, testified in court in 1909 that his son “was as bright and active as any boy of his age until news came of the Elmhurst murder.” The crime seemed to hold an unusual fascination for the boy, who avidly read all of the details of the case he could get his hands on.
As the trial progressed, Benjamin’s condition grew worse, including a belief that food offered to him was poisoned with strychnine, the same drug with which Mrs. Carmin was killed. For days on end he refused to eat, and afterwards would only take food at restaurants. The complete collapse of the boy occurred when the guilty verdict was read. On that day, Benjamin became convinced that he had killed his own mother, and even when in her presence he did not recognize her. The boy’s fixation on the murder case had finally reached the point where the need for more advanced mental health treatment was obvious to all.
Finally, in March of 1909, Superior Court Judge Ogden declared the boy insane, issuing an order that the boy be committed to the Napa asylum. As further proof that young Benjamin needed help, he displayed a strong desire while in the courtroom to physically attack his questioners, despite his emaciated and wan appearance. And so, shortly thereafter, Mr. and Mrs. Blotcky packed a bag for their son and drove him up to Napa, in the fervent hope that he would get better.

On March 19, 1909, just 10 days after Benjamin was committed to the state asylum in Napa, a more hopeful headline appeared in the Alameda Times Star, proclaiming “Boy Is Likely To Regain His Mind.” Reported in the article was the fact that Blotcky “has shown considerable improvement in his condition and hope is felt over his return to a normal state of mind.” Though the newspapers had previously reported that young Blotcky’s death would be “imminent” if he continued to refuse food, this more hopeful article ended with the line, “Since being confined in the asylum he has eaten three meals a day and otherwise acted in a normal way.”
It is not known how long the Blotcky family continued to live at 1528 Mozart Street after their son came home from the asylum, but since they seemed to be active in real estate transactions in Alameda during those years, perhaps it can be assumed that they moved on, in order to get a fresh start for themselves and Benjamin.
Searching through the records, many names are associated with 1528 Mozart Street, including the McCullough family in 1918. The fact that the home likely had downstairs apartment units for many decades adds greatly to the cast of characters that has called this place home over the past 131 years. In 1907 there was even a company called U.S. Loan & Realty Company operating out of 1528 Mozart Street, with the phone number ALA 2416.
The owners with the longest tenure appear to be the Viray family. In approximately 1965, Susie Viray’s grandfather Leon Mendoza was living in one of the downstairs units when he learned the owner of the house was planning to sell. Rather than having to move, Mendoza made a cash offer of $25,000 (according to family lore) and became a homeowner. According to Susie, the reason her grandfather wanted to live in Alameda was that he was retired from the military, and wanted to shop at the base commissary for his groceries. Many years later when he passed away, his wife (Susie’s grandmother) deeded the house to her daughter (Susie’s mother) and Susie, with the proviso that the grandmother would get to stay in the house as long as she lived, and that they would maintain the home.
The years went on, the dear grandmother passed away, and eventually it was Susie and her husband living upstairs on the main level, with her two brothers occupying the two ground-level apartments. By the time the year 2015 rolled around, the house was in serious need of maintenance and refurbishment, and though it was always Susie’s dream to fully restore the old Victorian-era gem, she had come to realize that it could be a “money pit.” With retirement nearing, and not wanting to work for years just to fix up the house, she and her family decided to sell. At that point, the Mendoza/Viray family had been owners of the home for about 50 years, likely the longest residence of any other owner so far. Susie and her family now live in Solano County.

“I’m so glad I picked Joyce to buy the house, as I had so many offers even before I hired a realtor,” Susie says. “Joyce, thank you for restoring this home, and I’m glad my story can be part of the history.”
Actually, it was “meant to be” that Joyce and her husband Peter would come to own this home. As we learned in Part 3 of this story, there was a premonition in the form of a historic photo that came into Joyce’s presence long before she ever knew about 1528 Mozart Street, and which foreshadowed her future destiny as an eventual owner and steward of this storied property.

The old expression is “every picture tells a story,” but to me, it’s more like “every house tells a story.” It’s just a matter of taking the time to seek out the clues, do some digging, meet the people who have lived in the houses, and together learn more about the human history of a home than any of us ever knew or imagined before. I don’t know exactly why this is so important, or so interesting. Maybe it’s because people are interesting, and so is architecture and style. These articles attempt to tell the intertwined story of both—we humans and the structures we call home.
“But why am I so fond of these buildings? Because such houses as these will never be built on earth again. Because they are often both handsome and lovely, slightly irrational, and always a visual feast. Because their very presence was and is, day in and day out, a gift to every neighbor, postman and passerby on the street. In essence then, I see old houses as unique, public, large-scale celebrations of life, worthy of preservation and respect.”
— Carol Olwell, from her 1976 book, A Gift to the Street
Special thanks to current homeowners Joyce Boyd and Peter Conn for their help and cooperation with this story, along with former longtime owner Susie Viray.
Contributing writer Steve Gorman has been a resident of Alameda since 2000, when he fell in love with the history and architecture of this unique town. Contact him via steve@alamedapost.com. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Steve-Gorman.
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1528 Mozart Street homeowner Joyce Boyd moved to California from Detroit, Michigan, after college, and for years lived in Berkeley. It was there in Berkeley around 1998 that she used to frequent one of her favorite eateries, Fatapples Restaurant and Bakery. During those many visits to Fatapples, Joyce noticed an interesting historic framed photograph hanging on the wall, which depicted an old-fashioned ice delivery truck parked in front of an ornate Victorian-era home. The photo would always attract her attention, but she never knew that it was a foreshadowing of her future.

Fast forward to the year 2015, when Joyce and her husband Peter Conn were closing on their “new” home on Mozart Street, and were given an unexpected gift by the home seller, Susan Viray. As Susan handed Joyce an 8 x 10 framed photo of an ice truck parked in front of a house, Joyce looked at it, feeling confused. Recognizing it as the photo she used to see at Fatapples, she asked, “Why are you giving me this?” Susan then told her that it was actually 1528 Mozart Street depicted in the photo, and that she wanted Joyce to have it as part of the home’s history. Joyce was amazed that the photo she first saw in a Berkeley restaurant when she first moved to California decades earlier, and which she always felt drawn to, was now her home. They say that there are no coincidences in life, and perhaps this is a good example of that.

In a further twist to this story, my wife Edie has worked at Fatapples Restaurant for years as a food server. I asked her if she had ever seen this photograph, but she didn’t remember ever having seen it. Edie then questioned the restaurant’s founder, Hilda Marsh, who is now mostly retired from daily operations but still stops by sometimes. Hilda definitely remembers the photo, but has no idea where it is now. It was probably removed years ago during some remodeling or renovation work, and its whereabouts are unknown. Who knows, maybe it’s hanging in some other home or establishment now, where it’s serving as a foreshadowing for someone else who will own this home one day far into the future. When it comes to this particular historic photo, there are no coincidences.
Once the historic photograph changed hands and the closing documents were signed, Joyce and Peter were the official owners of this historic property. When you take possession of a storied property like this, one that was designed and built by one of Alameda’s most renowned firms, Marcuse & Remmel, you are more than just an owner. You are a caretaker, a steward, a keeper of the flame, who will take your place in a long lineage that started in the 19th century and will hopefully extend far beyond the 21st.
Joyce describes the inspection report they received for the property as being “thick as a book,” with many issues of deferred maintenance to be addressed. Neither she nor Peter had any restoration experience, but they rolled up their sleeves and got to work doing what they could themselves, such as stripping layers of paint off of painted redwood moldings, and hired professionals for the rest. Among the first projects was to replace the brick foundation and crumbling chimney, working with John Jameson Construction. Ken Shelby of Piggery Panes restored the collapsing stained glass panel in the front bay window, along with re-creating missing leaded and stained glass windows in the dining room and attic.
Joyce and Peter joined the Alameda Architectural Preservation Society (AAPS) to start learning more about Victorian-era homes and get tips on restoration. They used TEC Electric to upgrade the electrical system of the two ground floor rental apartments—Joyce describes finding a rat’s nest of wires held up by a nail—and hired Advanced Roofing Services to replace the roof, while Jenks Gutters and Downspouts handled the gutters.

As one can imagine, work like this can be expensive and time-consuming, so it must be done in stages. As Joyce says, “We restored the rest of the outside of the house in stages as we saved up money for each phase.” Although much of the paint was peeling on the old-growth redwood siding of the house, luckily there was not much water damage and only 40 feet of siding needed to be replaced. Aluminum windows on the lower level were replaced with more period-correct wooden ones by Russo Windows and Doors, while A. T. Weber Plumbing repaired and replaced gas and water lines as needed.
As you can tell by now, restoring a Victorian-era home takes the help of many skilled tradespeople and artisans. As work continued, Pacific Northwest Painters and Construction (PNPC) did work on the sides of the house, as well as extensive restoration to the front. By the time final painting was to begin though, the owner of PNPC had retired, so Olson Painting was hired to complete the job. But final painting couldn’t be done until the delicate plaster restoration on the front of the house was completed.

Lorna Kollmeyer has been mentioned in previous articles about Alameda Treasures, due to her unique role in preserving an art and trade that is almost lost to time now. Described by 7×7 magazine as “the last remaining guardian of Victorian plaster ornaments,” artisan Kollmeyer has dedicated herself for more than 40 years to crafting the delicate, intricate medallions, scrolls, rosettes, cartouches, and plaques that bejewel the painted ladies of San Francisco and the Bay Area. Operating out of a shop at Hunter’s Point Shipyard, Kollmeyer Ornamental Plaster is the last remaining repository of this once thriving artistic trade.
Once again, the historic photo of the High Street Ice Delivery truck parked in front of 1528 Mozart Street enters the story. The photo shows enough detail of the home’s original plaster ornamentation that Kollmeyer had at least a guide to go by as she worked to restore the façade to its original 1894 look. Once this detailed and intricate work was created and installed, the home was ready for final painting.
Cornelia Grunseth of the Color Lady & Associates was selected to help Joyce and Peter select a color palette for the exterior of the house, and their friend Robert (Bob) Farrar expertly applied the gleaming gold leaf accents. Finally, the homeowners found a replacement tower finial, purchased from Weathervanes of Maine. The gold finial is five feet tall, which seemed quite large to Joyce when she was ordering it. Once installed way up on the turret roof though, she realized that she actually could have gone with the seven-foot tall one.

For their work restoring 1528 Mozart Street to the fine condition it’s in today, Joyce Boyd and Peter Conn received a Preservation Award this year from the AAPS. In order to receive an award, homeowners must fill out a detailed form about their home, provide photos, and explain why their property merits a Preservation Award. The AAPS website states: “Nomination can include any activity that preserves, maintains, restores, or reuses the exterior or publicly accessible interior of a significant older property in a manner that retains or enhances its historic architectural character.”

While the exterior of this home now causes passersby to stop, look, and take photos, the interior still needs work. Some work has already been done to strip layers of paint from original carved redwood moldings, but there is still a long list of interior work to be done. On the to-do list is upgrading the electrical on the main level, refinishing the hardwood floors, painting interior rooms, rebuilding an old back deck, creating a new laundry room, building an outdoor kitchen, and finally, when all the workmen and women have finished traipsing in and out, creating a newly landscaped front yard.
Here we are nearing the end of Part 3 of this series and we still haven’t gotten to the story of Benjamin Blotcky, the 12-year-old former resident of 1528 Mozart Street who made headlines in 1908 when he refused to eat. How his parents handled this worrying situation, and what happened when he went before a judge to determine his sanity will be explored in Part 4 of the story of this home, along with more photos and historical information dug up from the past. All that, and more, when our story of 1528 Mozart Street continues.
Special thanks to Joyce Boyd and Peter Conn for opening up their home and its history for Alameda Post readers. Information about the 2025 Preservation Award was sourced from the newsletter of the Alameda Architectural Preservation Society.
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]]>In 1856, Alfred A. and Emilie Gibbons Cohen purchased the property that became today’s Fernside neighborhood. Two years later, Emilie’s father Henry Gibbons Sr., M.D., received title to the land on the east side of High Street north of the “old Farwell place.”

In 1901, the Corps of Engineers began shaping the Tidal Canal east of the Fruitvale Bridge. The dredge Olympian deposited some of the 200,000 cubic yards of material in its way onto Henry Gibbons’ property, creating “made land” where the marsh once stood. Workers removed some of this “deposit” to Lincoln Park to firm up newly created baseball fields. The Corps took much of this dirt to firm up projects along Oakland Harbor.
Beginning in 1909, the Southern Pacific Railroad stepped in and laid out the right-of-way that became Fernside Boulevard as a right-of-way for its new electric train system. The City gave its permission with the condition that Southern Pacific add a paved road for horse-drawn wagons and automobiles along the tracks. The trains began running on June 1, 1911. The arrival of the trains that locals dubbed “The Loop” and the new vehicle-friendly road attracted speculators with eyes on development.

The following year, speculator Stuart Hawley purchased the land—about 30 acres—from the Gibbons estate. He called in C. C. Adams (remember him from Mastick Park?) and Mark T. Cole to lay out “Waterside Terrace.” Adams and Cole presented Hawley with plans to build 160 homes on a fan-shaped tract that featured a pair of ideas new and radical in their day—terraced lots and curving streets. Historian Woody Minor tells us that “tons of canal dirt dumped on the marshy site” allowed the developers to form the neighborhood’s terraced parcels.

Did you know? Stuart Hawley purchased the Gibbons’ property that became Waterside Terrace in 1912. Stuart also owned the tract that became Mastick Park. His father and uncles operated a prosperous hardware store in San Francisco. In 1927 he sat as one of the first Port of Oakland commissioners.
Hawley approved, and Adams hired builders to put up homes in the impressive new Prairie style inspired by creations at Frank Lloyd Wright’s studio in Oak Park, Illinois. Look for the homes with those horizontal lines. As had been done in Mastick Park, F. N. and L. V. Strang were among the builders who signed on. The brothers had already built homes in the Bay Park Tract, today’s Burbank-Portola neighborhood. Adams also built bungalows in the new development along Bayo Vista, Monte Vista, Fairview, High Street, and Fernside Boulevard.
Adams and Cole added the three small parks to the development bounded by the estuary waters, High Street, and Fairview Avenue. The three parks are located on the east side of Fernside—the first about halfway between High Street and Monte Vista Avenue, the second at Monte Vista Avenue, and the third at Fairview Avenue.
As was the case in nearly every early 20th-century development, the developers made it very clear that “those people” would never be living anywhere in Waterside Terrace. “There are restrictions against Japanese, Chinese, and Negroes…” states a 1913 advertisement for Waterside Terrace. According to the advertisement, “These restrictions are thrown about this property, as it is the intent of the owners to make this the modern high-class home place of the city.”


In 1858, Henry Gibbons Jr., M.D., purchased the property that became Waterside Terrace. The good doctor’s investment, defined roughly by today’s High Street, Fairview Avenue and Fernside Boulevard—was mostly marshland that bordered San Leandro Bay. In 1902, when the Corps of Engineers shaped the Tidal Canal, their dredges created “made land” here. Beginning in 1909, the Southern Pacific Railroad stepped in and built Fernside Boulevard as a right-of-way for its Big Red trains.
In 1912, developers stepped in with plans to build 160 homes on a tract that featured a pair of ideas new and radical in their day: terraced lots and curving streets. And the homes were amazing! C. C. Adams hired builders who put up homes in the impressive new Prairie-style inspired by creations at Frank Lloyd Wright’s studio in Oak Park, Illinois. On this walk we’ll learn to distinguish this new style from the bungalows in the neighborhood. It will be easy—just look for the homes with those horizontal lines. More tour information.
Join Dennis to explore this little-known Fernside neighborhood this weekend. Tickets are $20 each, get yours now! Saturday, September 13 or Sunday, September 14.
On our walk, we’ll discuss how Waterside Terrace’s street names—Monte Vista, Bayo Vista, and Fairview, a translation of Buena Vista—raise an interesting question. And I’ll show you how you can draw an (almost) straight line from Fairview at High Street to Buena Vista at Versailles Avenue.
The 1926 developer did run Fairview west from High Street, and he did something interesting: He ran Gibbons Drive (named for Emilie’s family) as a curve from Central Avenue to Fernside Boulevard. He nicely defined this curve and interrupted the flow of Fairview to Buena Vista with a pair of streets, an oval, at the center of Gibbons Drive. He named those streets “Northwood” and “Southwood.” His name? Fred Wood.
Had he not done this, I am certain that Fairview would have connected to Buena Vista and would have lost its name.
Dennis Evanosky is the award-winning Historian of the Alameda Post. Reach him at dennis@alamedapost.com. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Dennis-Evanosky.
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These housing tracts, located in an area once called Encinal Park—parts of which are referred to as the “Gold Coast” today—were owned by German émigré Emile Kower, who finally began selling them in 1884, just two years before his passing in 1886. Perhaps he felt his life drawing to a close and decided to liquidate his holdings to make things easier for his heirs—his wife and three children. Even upon his death in February of 1886, however, he still owned sixty lots in Alameda, worth $20,000, along with lots in Fruitvale and San Francisco worth another $38,000 (Alameda Times Star, February 20, 1886). Kower, a native of Stuttgart Germany, was just 63 years old at the time of his passing, and died a wealthy man.
Looking through Alameda historian George Gunn’s books on our city’s Victorian-era buildings, one can’t help but notice that the vast majority of original owners were men. It wasn’t as common for women to be property owners in those days, but there are a handful of homes with women listed as the original owners, and 1528 Mozart Street is one of them.
Gunn’s book lists the original owner of 1528 Mozart Street simply as “Mrs. E. L. Gardner.” It didn’t take too much more research to learn that her name was Emma L. Gardner, and that she had been widowed by John Gardner. A real estate listing in The Daily Encinal, on July 19, 1894, stated that “Felix Marcuse has entered into an agreement with Emma L. Gardner to convey to him a piece of property on the east side of Mozart street, 287½ feet south of Railroad Avenue, 37½ feet x 159 feet, for $3,750.” A couple of months later, on September 15, 1884, another real estate listing, this time in the Alameda Times Star, stated, “Felix and Delfina Marcuse to Emma L. Gardner, lot, 37.6 x 150, on east side of Mozart Street, 287.6 feet south of Railroad Avenue; $10.”
These listings seem to indicate that Emma Gardner first sold the plot of land to Felix Marcuse (of the building firm Marcuse & Remmel) for $3,750, and then had it deeded back to her a couple of months later. This is interesting, because it suggests that perhaps Emma Gardner had purchased her lot directly from Emil Kower, then sold it to Felix Marcuse, who built her house on it with his firm Marcuse & Remmel, and she then bought it back for just $10. Since the cost of her house was $2,800, this sounds like a shrewd deal made by Mrs. E. L. Gardner. Perhaps some money or land changed hands that was not mentioned in these real estate listings.

Emma L. Gardner must have led a quiet life after moving into 1528 Mozart Street, because no other mentions were made of her in the local papers until June 1897, when the Alameda Times Star reported that, “Mrs. Emma L. Gardner of 1528 Mozart Street is camping with her daughter at Corte Madera, Marin County.” Those were the days when going on a camping trip was worthy of a blurb in the local newspapers, much like a Facebook status update today.
Then, 13 years after Emma Gardner had purchased her new home on Mozart Street, a real estate listing in the Alameda Times Star, on September 17, 1907, announced, “Emma Gardner has transferred to M. I. Blotcky property on the east side of Mozart Street 287 feet south of Railroad Avenue, 37×150.” It is not known how much she sold her house and property for, but it is likely she made a tidy profit before decamping to Oakland, where her next address is listed as Linden Street, in the 1907 Oakland city directory.
Emma’s travels and moves weren’t yet done. The 1909 Oakland city directory lists her whereabouts as, “Gardner, Mrs. Emma L., moved to Paris, France.” Hopefully Emma had a wonderful time during the two years she spent in Paris, but by 1911 the Oakland city directory once again showed her as a resident, living at 782 14th Street. After that, the trail of our Alameda pioneer homeowner Emma L. Gardner goes cold, but perhaps it’s time to move ahead in time to meet the current homeowners.

There are more previous owners to explore, and a tragic story involving the son of the Blotckys, who bought 1528 Mozart Street from Emma Gardner in 1907—we’ll get to that later—but we shouldn’t let any more time go by before meeting the current owners of this home, since they’ve done so much to restore the 131-year-old Alameda Treasure to the spectacular condition it’s in today.
Joyce Boyd and her husband Peter Conn have owned the home at 1528 Mozart Street since 2015, when they purchased it from the Viray family, who had owned it since the mid-1960s. While the home had “good bones,” it was in need of some serious renovation work, and Joyce describes the inspection report as being “thick as a book.” Neither had restored a Victorian-era home before, but they were drawn to the size and historical significance of the home, as well as the beauty of Mozart Street. Although this house would be their “project” for many years to come, Joyce and Peter felt this would be the perfect home for their family of four, which includes their daughter Josie and son Liam.

The Boyd-Conn family had been living in a duplex in Alameda with another family, but as a family of four they were feeling the need for more space. A connection put them in touch with the owners of 1528 Mozart Street, who were looking to sell their home after 50 years of Viray family ownership. At that point, the Viray parents, who had purchased the house in about 1965, had passed on, and it was the grown children who were still living in the house in its three units (main upstairs level, and two lower apartments). After moving in, the Boyd-Conn family did indeed have more space, but they also had a lot more items on their to-do list.
In an upcoming article, we’ll explore the many renovations and repairs that the family took on, as they started on the long and expensive journey of restoring this home to its former glory. In many ways, when a restoration is done right, it makes a historic home actually far better than it was originally. Not only do you get all of the original beauty, detail, and quality craftsmanship, but you also get today’s safer and more efficient systems and utilities such as foundations, windows, roofing, electrical, and heating. A well-restored Victorian-era home can be the best of both worlds.

We’ll soon be learning about some of the previous owners and occupants of 1528 Mozart Street, which had a variety of residents between 1909 and 1965 when the Viray family purchased it. One of those early residents was 12-year-old Benjamin Blotcky, the “boy who refused to eat,” and we’ll be exploring his story too.
We’ll also be taking a look at the many renovations that have taken place at this home over the past 10 years, along with the skilled tradespeople and artists who have done this work. There is also the story of a vintage 1920s photograph of 1528 Mozart Street with an ice wagon from the High Street Ice Company parked in front. This photograph served as a premonition that Joyce Boyd would one day own this home, decades before she even knew about the house. In a further twist, this same photograph has a connection to my own family, which makes my working on this story all the more “connecting.”
That’s what I love about these deep dives into our Alameda Treasures. You never know what connections will be made, and how the past and the present will intersect in unexpected ways. The stories and connections are out there—it’s just a matter of digging them up.
Contributing writer Steve Gorman has been a resident of Alameda since 2000, when he fell in love with the history and architecture of this unique town. Contact him via steve@alamedapost.com. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Steve-Gorman.
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As historic and established as Mozart Street looks today, it was created relatively late in Alameda’s pioneer development period. An 1878 Thompson & West map shows that the large tract bordered by Railroad Avenue (today’s Lincoln Avenue), St. Charles Street, Santa Clara Avenue, and McPherson Street (today’s Ninth Street) was almost completely empty and undeveloped. Mozart and Verdi streets did not yet exist at that time, even though much development activity had been going on in Alameda for decades, and the population was at about 5,500.
This tract, along with three other large tracts spanning all the way from Lincoln Avenue to the bay were owned by German émigré and businessman, Emile Kower. Although speculation on its development had been going on since at least 1879, newspaper articles as late as 1884 were still hoping that Kower’s tracts would soon be developed, and expressed the desire that “…its sale will result in the improvement of what has long been a waste place.” (Alameda Times Star, May 17, 1884)
Imelda Merlin’s excellent book, Alameda, a Geographical History, includes this quote: “Germans began coming in during the late sixties (1860s), partly in response to the annexation of Hanover to Prussia, and partly because of the growing objection to the compulsory military service at home. The first arrivals made stopovers in San Francisco. But once they discovered the groves of trees and the milder climate of the Encinal, many hastened to move to the East Bay.”
Emile Kower, a native of Stuttgart, Germany, was one of those German immigrants who played a significant role in Alameda’s development. In 1878 he appeared on a list of the “heaviest land-holders of the town” in the Alameda Daily Encinal. On that list of the 27 top landholders, Kower appeared at number 12, with real estate holdings totaling $35,775. The list reads like a Who’s Who of Alameda history, peppered with names like Alfred A. Cohen (at the top position with $137,100 in real estate), E. B. Mastick, Mary A. Fitch, H. H. Haight, Mrs. J. W. Dwinelle (former wife of Alameda co-founder William W. Chipman), G. G. Briggs, and Louis Fassking.

The May 17, 1884 announcement in the Alameda Times Star stated that “Emile Kower will sell at public auction Saturday, May 31, forty-five lots in the large tract lying west of Bay Street and between Santa Clara and Railroad avenues.” This is definitive evidence that Mozart Street, along with its sister street Verdi, were not cut through and developed until after 1884—relatively late in Alameda’s street building history. In a recent history walk article in the Alameda Post, Dennis Evanosky explains how the new streets got their names;
“Kower also ran a new street from the Bay shore north to his second tract across Santa Clara Avenue. He named this one Caroline Street for Carrie (Caroline Dwinelle, former wife of Alameda co-founder William W. Chipman). He then cut two streets north of Santa Clara to the Central Pacific Railroad tracks. He had named three streets, so he turned to Carrie and asked her to name three streets. She thought of her favorite composers. She named the street where she lived for Karl Maria von Weber. She remembered Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Giuseppe Verdi in naming the streets north of Santa Clara Avenue.” We can thank Carrie’s love of classical music for the streets we know today as Mozart, Verdi and Weber.
Now that we know the story of how Mozart Street came to be created and named in 1884, we can start to look at some of the houses built in this tract, including our subject today, 1528 Mozart Street. The oldest houses on the street are clustered near the south end of the street, probably to take advantage of the proximity of the electric streetcar line running on Santa Clara Avenue. These homes, at numbers 1515, 1518, 1519, and 1523, were built in 1885, except for 1515, which was built in 1888. Their architects and builders are unknown, except for number 1523, which is attributed to one of Alameda’s most prominent 19th century builders, Denis Straub.
Nothing more happened for a few years until Felix Marcuse and Julius Remmel started to buy lots in this tract. Between 1890 and 1891, the Marcuse & Remmel Company put up three houses here. In 1892 they put up three more houses, and by 1894 they were really hitting their stride when they put up six houses on Mozart Street, including the masterpiece that is our subject today, at number 1528. Of course, their company was also busy elsewhere during this building boom, putting up a total of about 60 houses per year through 1896.
Felix Marcuse had started out as a grocer, operating the Bay Station Grocery. Julius Remmel was a music teacher, specializing in pianoforte, organ, and flute. The late 1880s building boom proved irresistible to the men, though, and by 1890 they were partners in a successful home-building firm.

Despite the impressive size and presence of 1528 Mozart Street, it is described as a “Queen Anne cottage, high basement” by the late Alameda historian George Gunn, in his classic book on Alameda’s Victorian-era architecture. Basements are not common in Alameda, due to the high water table, so these lower levels were built to provide the kind of storage that a basement would. Over time, most of these high basements were turned into living spaces or garages, often after raising the building a foot or more. Although there are two legal rental units on the lower level of 1528 Mozart Street today, the owner indicates that this building was never raised, and matches the height of its three neighbors to the left, all of them built in the same year by the same builders.
Gunn’s book goes on to describe 1528 Mozart Street as having been built in 1894 for a selling price of $2,800 to the original owner Mrs. Emma L. Gardner. We’ll learn a bit more about her later. Gunn also notes in his “Exterior Alternations” notes that the ornamental millwork had been removed (the book was published in 1985). Looking at the exterior of this beautiful home today, you’d never know that the richly decorated façade had ever been altered. The condition it’s in today is a testament to the time, effort, and money the current owners have poured into restoring this home since they purchased it in 2015.

When our story of 1528 Mozart Street continues, we’ll meet the current owners, and then see what we can discover about past owners, going all the way back to 1894. We’ll also learn about major projects and improvements the current owners have taken on, and what they have planned next.
There is also a strange story related to this house, which made headlines in local newspapers in 1908 and 1909. Headlines reading, “Boy Refuses To Eat; Starving” and “Alameda Boy Loses His Mind” described the case of 12-year-old Benjamin Blotcky, who lived at 1528 Mozart Street with his parents, Mr. and Mrs. M. I. Blotcky. In a future installment, we’ll look into why the boy refused to eat, what happened at his sanity hearings before Judge Ogden, how he ended up committed to the asylum in Napa, and whether he ever came home to live on Mozart Street again.
Finally, there is a historic 1920s photo at the Alameda Museum that was likely taken as an advertisement for the High Street Ice Company, featuring one of their ice wagons that just happens to show in the background our subject today, 1528 Mozart Street. That historic photo acted as a model for the current owners to use when restoring the façade to its original state, but the photo also has some intriguing coincidences associated with it, which served as a premonition that the current owners would own this home one day, decades before they ever did.
All that, and more, when our story continues.
Contributing writer Steve Gorman has been a resident of Alameda since 2000, when he fell in love with the history and architecture of this unique town. Contact him via steve@alamedapost.com. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Steve-Gorman.
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