We all have that one house in our neighborhood. You know the one—the dwelling so mysterious that neighbors whisper about its strange inhabitants, and the kids refuse to walk past it, save under the oath of a double-dog dare. In Harlem, during the 30s and 40s, there was such a house: a rundown brownstone on the corner of 5th Avenue and 128th Street. It was owned by the Collyer brothers, and it remains one of New York City’s strangest, most enigmatic homes.
Homer Lusk Collyer was born on November 6, 1881, and his younger brother, Langley Wakeman Collyer, followed four years later on October 3, 1885. They grew up in an upper-middle-class family, the children of Herman Collyer, a prominent gynecologist at Bellevue Hospital, and Susie Gage Frost Collyer, an opera singer. Herman and Susie were first cousins, a practice not uncommon in their time. The Collyers often boasted that their ancestors had arrived in America on The Fortune, the second ship after the Mayflower.
In 1909, the family moved into the now-infamous brownstone on 5th Avenue. Both Homer and Langley attended Columbia University, where Homer earned a degree in maritime law and Langley studied chemistry and engineering. Langley was also an accomplished musician, having performed as a concert pianist at Carnegie Hall.
In 1919, Herman and Susie divorced, with Susie retaining ownership of the Harlem brownstone. The brothers chose to stay with their mother. Four years later, in 1923, Herman passed away, leaving his estate—including a vast collection of medical books and curiosities—to Homer and Langley. When Susie died in 1929, the brothers were left alone in the brownstone.
Homer continued practicing law, while Langley worked as a piano dealer. Both men were active in their community, led social lives, and even taught Sunday school at Trinity Church. However, everything changed in 1933 when Homer lost his sight due to hemorrhages in his eyes. Langley quit his job to care for his brother full-time, and gradually, the brothers withdrew from society, retreating further into their brownstone.
As the brothers’ reclusiveness deepened, the effects of the Great Depression were felt in their Harlem neighborhood. What was once an affluent area had become unrecognizable, and the brothers, products of the Gilded Age, found themselves increasingly alienated. The rise of crime and poverty only amplified their disdain for the outside world, deepening their paranoia.
The Collyers’ strange behavior and isolation sparked numerous rumors. One popular story was that the house was filled with exotic treasures. Although these rumors were unfounded, they led some unscrupulous neighbors to attempt breaking in. To ward off potential burglars, Langley installed bars on all the windows and boarded them over. He also set up booby traps throughout the house, which only intensified the community’s curiosity.
It is unclear when the brothers’ eccentricity crossed into madness, but it’s evident that their behavior took a darker turn. Those who still maintained some contact with the brothers noted that Langley rejected medical help for Homer’s condition. Instead, he insisted that his father’s medical library and his own judgment were sufficient. Langley even prescribed bizarre remedies, such as consuming 100 oranges a week and prolonged bedrest, believing they would restore Homer’s sight.
By 1937, the Collyers had become completely isolated, and their utilities were cut off one by one. When the telephone was disconnected, Langley commented that they had no one to talk to anyway. To compensate for the lack of heat and power, Langley rigged a generator out of a Model T Ford and installed a portable kerosene heater.
During this period, Langley developed a habit of nocturnal wandering. Distrustful of people and wary of his own neighborhood, he would often travel long distances in the dead of night to acquire food and supplies. This habit led to his compulsive collecting of items, from newspapers to random objects, many of which filled the house. Langley believed that one day Homer would regain his sight and would want to catch up on everything he’d missed, which is why Langley collected daily newspapers.
The public’s first glimpse into the Collyer home came in 1942, when the bank began eviction proceedings due to three years of unpaid mortgage bills. A crew was sent to clean out the house, but when they arrived, they encountered Langley, who stood on the porch with a checkbook. The workmen attempted to enter the home, but were halted by a wall of newspapers, car parts, and various items. Langley wrote a check to the bank for the $6,700 mortgage—equivalent to over $100,000 today—and the brothers were allowed to continue their reclusive lives.
However, on March 21, 1947, police were called to the brownstone after an anonymous tip about the smell of rotting flesh. Upon breaching the door, they found the house filled with debris. It took seven men over five hours to clear a path through the piles of books, musical instruments, and bicycles. Eventually, they discovered Homer’s body, seated in a chair, in a tiny alcove buried beneath the clutter. The medical examiner determined that he had died from a combination of starvation and heart disease, and that he had likely passed away about ten hours earlier.
Langley, was nowhere to be found. Initially, it was believed that Langley had made the anonymous phone call and fled the scene. There were several tips suggesting that he had traveled to the Atlantic coast, prompting a brief manhunt. When Langley failed to appear at Homer’s funeral, authorities began to fear the worst. It would take a full week, and 120 tons of trash, before the search ended.
On April 8, Langley’s body was discovered in a two-foot-wide tunnel lined with rusty bed springs and a chest of drawers. His body was severely decomposed and partially consumed by rats. The medical examiner determined that Langley had died around March 9, likely crushed by debris while trying to crawl through the tunnel to bring food to Homer. His death was ruled as asphyxiation. His body was found just ten feet away from his brother’s.
In July 1947, the Collyer brothers’ brownstone was demolished for safety reasons. Today, a small pocket park stands in place, serving as a quiet reminder of two of New York City’s most reclusive and tragic figures.
Jason Roberts is a Seattle-based author noted for his acclaimed western horror series The Dead Wind Trilogy as well as other works of cosmic horror infused with historical fiction. His web-based series, Dark Distractions examines paranormal mysteries, unexplained phenomena, and all things strange.
