In a Victorian afterglow, a young muse’s dark secrets were revealed one June evening. A scandalous love affair captivated an insatiable public with shocking revelations. Being young and beautiful came at a high price, ending in one of New York’s most unforgettable murders.
In 1900, Evelyn Nesbit, a “Gibson Girl,” arrived in Manhattan at 15. By the time she was 16, she was on Broadway. Two individuals were captivated by this aspiring actress’ alluring gaze. One, a playboy psychopath who made minimal contributions to society. The other, a famous architect who helped build a metropolis. Both were no strangers to womanizing and grooming.
Draughtsman Charles Dana Gibson created pen and ink images of affluent, young women called the “Gibson Girls” in the 1890s. The fine line drawings changed the narrative on American feminine beauty. Modern-day women were reframed in a different social perspective, sowing the seeds of expanding mass communication. Newspapers published their first fashion pages. Working models familiar with Edwardian women’s hairstyles knew all the glamour poses. Male ink counterparts didn’t fare as well; they were shown as feeble horndogs, buffoon suiters, and gruff smiling business titans. After World War I, the Gibson Girl style disappeared along with tight-laced corsets. Enter the new bold, bobbed hair look of the Roaring Twenties flappers.
As cameras clicked away, a new center-of-attention pin-up girl arrived. According to the Washington Times, Evelyn Nesbit was described as “...a pair of big eyes artists like... with a smile that means everything or nothing.” Dirt-poor from Pennsylvania with a successful modeling career under her belt, Evelyn was now a Broadway chorus girl. Targeted for abuse, she made no attempt to gloss over any shortcomings.
Architect Stanford White characterized the magnificence of the Gilded Age. His striking personal branding stood out, framed by red hair and a handlebar mustache. White brought charm to the prestigious architectural firm McKim, Mead & White, who were responsible for the construction of mansions, municipal buildings, and other notable architectural achievements in New York City, many of which still stand today.
An architect’s lifestyle included servicing high-end clientele, both private and public. Collecting antiques and objects required a curator’s aesthetic vision and taste. The job often necessitated international travel. Objects of beauty were drawn to Stanford White’s eye, one in particular was Evelyn Nesbit.
The message was as clear then, as it is now; if you’re famous with money and charm, you have the power to make others believe what you believe, and then you can do just about anything you want without repercussions. Throughout Manhattan, trademark McKim, Mead & White buildings showcased complex stone arches. What wasn’t complicated, White’s straightforward approach with young women. White was attracted dancers and actresses. A profile pattern shows that chaste young women from fatherless homes were attracted to wealth, power, jewelry, champagne, and flowers.
According to White’s great-granddaughter, Suzannah Lessard, in her book The Architect of Desire, White was “out of control.” Nothing could stop his blighted urges and actions. In 1901, a couple of blocks from Madison Square Park, White kept a townhouse on W. 24th St. for trysts; the property has since been razed. One evening, 48-year-old White dined alone with Evelyn Nesbit. The invitation was accepted with her mother’s approval. After dinner, Paula Uruburu’s American Eve describes White saying to Evelyn, “You’re not going?” as he took the cape off her shoulders. “Stay,” he pleaded, “there’s a lot in this house you have never seen, and it will amuse you.”
Nesbit toured the infamous house with the red velvet swing. Lured upstairs to the Mirror Room after a glass of champagne, she felt lightheaded and closed her eyes. She awoke on silk sheets with a bit of blood on her thigh. White had sexually assaulted her.
White said, “Don’t cry, Kittens. It’s all over. Now you belong to me.” A fling with a teenager who promises to keep a secret and never tell, won’t happen. With Nesbit now in mistress status, White remained her long-term benefactor in an amicable social relationship. Both would court other admirers.
In 1902, nothing bothered stalker Harold K. Thaw, except his crush on Evelyn Nesbit grew to monstrous proportions. Thaw, a wealthy Pittsburgh railroad tycoon’s son, had a lifelong history of mental illness. Thaw watched Nesbit perform in the play White Rose at least 40 times. He flooded her with gifts; emptying florist shops of roses, wrapping them in $50 bills.
After months of decreasing resistance from Nesbit, Thaw was finally able to finagle a ring on Nesbit’s finger. In a Paris hotel, Nesbit broke down and came clean. She told her fiancé about the White rape. That would prove to be a mistake. Later on, while visiting the gothic Katzenstein Castle in Austria, Thaw had a psychotic episode. Nesbit was sleeping in the darkness of a gloomy castle room. Thaw appeared naked and repeatedly beat her in a frenzy with a leather riding crop. After the dehumanizing abuse, things took a darker tone. They reconciled and married in 1905.
How does someone who’s so violent to woman play such a hypocritical role in the “red-headed devil’s” playground? Thaw and White despised each other; they had a longstanding rivalry stoked with mutual hostile harassment. Thaw presumed White was the person responsible for banishing him from men’s social clubs.
Stag hotspots were popular; clubs operated above the law and in the nightlife underworld. The Benedick at 80 Washington Square East was one such place, a brick facade apartment building designed as a bachelor’s residence hid secrets. Here, The Sewer Club hosted prestigious private events. Symbolic of the era’s decadence: there were allegations of “Pie Girl Dinner” with underage girls in skimpy attire jumping out of cakes as birds flew into the air.
For years, Thaw was envious of White’s abuse of young women, despite being an equal threat to society. Thaw had contacted well-known anti-vice activist Anthony Comstock’s office about Thaw about White’s activities. No charges were filed after an investigation.
At the second Madison Square Garden, White knew his way around the Beaux Arts building he designed. Walking the hallways employees passing by would call him “Stan.” At night, White and Nesbit held their illicit naked rendezvous encounters in his opulent Madison Square tower apartment. The onetime location on the northeast park corner from 1890–1925, was considered an unrivaled White masterpiece. Along with the destruction of the original Penn Station, it’s thought of as one of New York City’s greatest architectural losses.
On a hot June 25th, 1906, White was spotted earlier in the evening at Cafe Martin dining with his son. Nesbit had a panic attack over the sighting. Thaw had a brainstorm. Later on, Stanford White made an unplanned decision to see the premiere of Mam’zelle Champagne at the Madison Square Garden rooftop theater. As serendipity would have it, Nesbit, Thaw and White would also attend the musical’s premiere. Thaw spent the evening in a long coat despite the heat after breaking his personal vow to “never” step foot in a Stanford White building. Inside the theater, Thaw learned White planned to attend the performance and wondered if he would be at his usual table.
After 11 p.m., during the grand finale, the chorus sang “I Could Love a Million Girls” in front of a packed audience. Thaw approached White, pulled out a revolver from under his coat and fired three bullets at point-blank range, instantly killing him. The terrified crowd went scrambling. Thaw stood there and said, “This man ruined my wife,” a few reports quote “ruined my life.” He was arrested and charged with murder.
The trial was an epic sideshow, the first to require sequestering. Thin on facts, heavy on colorful truth-stretching, tabloid press reporters set the tone for “yellow” journalism. Confined to the City jail called The Tombs, Thaw was given preferential treatment. In his cell, the millionaire had a brass bed and Tiffany lamps, wore tailored clothes, and dined on steak from Delmonico’s. After two mistrials on February 1, 1908, Thaw was found not guilty by reason of insanity, committed to Matteawan State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Headlines hawked “Thaw Taken to Madhouse Vigorously Protesting.” Nesbit and Thaw divorced in 1915, he died in 1947.
Evelyn Nesbit remained an enigma. Newspapers during the trial described her as: “The teeth beautiful, the figure lithe, the head shapely and well poised, and the smile the crowning glory of a woman... We have seen the attributes and surroundings that have produced this woman who is stared at in criminal court today.”
Despite being labeled imperfect, having financial difficulties and addiction struggles, Nesbit was determined about rebuilding life on her own terms. She performed in a few silent movies and had a son. After relocating to Los Angeles, she consulted on a Hollywood production of The Girl in the Red Velvet Swing in 1955. Nesbit taught sculpture and ceramics until her death in 1967.
There was no applause June 25th, 1906, after a rooftop theater’s grand performance. Under a waxing crescent moon—a murder of passion played out—Stanford White lay dead on the floor in the palace he built. The melodramatic love triangle etched itself in American history as a blueprint for modern day scandal.