Carriage Trade Read Free

Silas Tarkington purchased the old Truxton S. Van Degan mansion on Fifth Avenue and 59th Street, which was about to be razed. Initially, Mr. Tarkington used the various rooms in the mansion to lease small boutiques to other fashion retailers, retaining only the former foyer of the house for his own operations. Then, gradually, he took over these leases. Even today, the store’s floor plan creates the feeling of walking from one small boutique to another.
    In 1967, needing more selling space, Mr. Tarkington added considerably to his store by building an L-shaped addition to the mansion’s northeast corner, an area that had originally contained the Van Degans’ carriage house and gardens. This move aroused the ire of preservationists, who argued that the addition destroyed the mansion’s setting and scale. However, since the mansion had never been given Landmark status, Mr. Tarkington was able to proceed with his plan.
    â€œHe was the most gracious and charming of men,” said a former associate who asked not to be identified, “but at the same time he was a man of mystery. He never talked about his youth or early days. That was part of his fascination.” Not even Mr. Tarkington’s exact age at the time of his death is known, though he was assumed to be in his early to mid 70’s. He studiously avoided the press and successfully resisted the efforts of a number of would-be biographers, sticking only to the scanty facts published in his company’s 1975 “official” corporate history.
    That corporate history, Only the Best , omits the founder’s date and place of birth, his parents’ names, and other vital statistics. The corporate history merely speaks of the founder’s “Horatio Alger-like rise from poverty to fame and fortune.”
    Because so few hard facts are known, gossip and rumors about the man behind the facade have proliferated over the years. It has been said, for instance, that Silas Tarkington was not his original name. It has also been rumored that at some point in his career he had underworld connections, but no proof has been offered to back these allegations.
    An Aloof Executive
    As an executive, Mr. Tarkington was so aloof as to be almost invisible at times, making his presence known only through terse memoranda. “He was always very courtly and attentive with his special lady clients—and we were always to call them ‘clients,’ never ‘customers’,” said Mrs. Estelle Winfield, a longtime Tarkington’s salesperson, “but when he walked through the store there was never much more than a polite nod to any of us. His office door was usually closed, and often no one was sure whether he was in there or not. Or we’d think he was there, and we’d find out he was actually in Paris or Rome or Tokyo, scouting new designers. One day he suddenly appeared with an armload of the most beautiful hand-knit sweaters I’d ever seen and plopped them on my counter. ‘Where did these come from, Mr. Si?’ I asked him. ‘I brought them back with me from New Zealand last night,’ he said. New Zealand! We didn’t even know he’d been out of town.
    â€œAnd the apartment! That was a really mysterious place. None of us was ever invited up there. I don’t think even Mr. Bonham was ever there. The apartment was kind of a secret, sacred place, just for Mr. and Mrs. Tarkington.”
    â€œA Shy Man”
    â€œI think my father was essentially a shy man,” his daughter, Miranda, 24, told The Times today. “I think he enjoyed the perks that went with being rich and powerful, and having rich and powerful clients, but he never got used to being in the limelight. He hated it when flashbulbs went off.”
    Indeed, Mr. Tarkington was famously averse to being photographed. Though he often spoke in public, he did so only after being assured that no cameras would be allowed in the room. And when