Title: Real estate broker, banker
Birthdate: 1823
Death Date: February 21, 1900
Plot Location: Section 27, Lots 291 & 293

Askin mausoleum

Everybody knows “you can’t take it with you” and that no hearse has ever pulled a U-Haul trailer. Henry learned that material things are only temporary and a good life consists of much more than an abundance of possessions.

He used his middle name most often, but on formal documents his signature was J. Henry Askin. Of his young life it is only known that his parents came from Ireland to Philadelphia and he had two brothers and two sisters. Henry married Louisa Somerndyke when they were both around 23 and had Louisa, Ella, Mary, Harry, Emily, and George between 1848 and 1870.

Henry’s lifelong career was real estate and he did very well. He listed the value of his own real estate at $16,000 and personal property worth $2,500 on the 1860 census, which was quite substantial. Ten years later that rocketed to $275,000 and $125,000, respectively. 

From about 1865 to 1895 his office was at 631 Walnut Street. His success allowed him to enjoy a stately residence in the 3500 block of Baring Street in the Powelton Village section, where his mother died in 1863. But Henry had the wisdom as a good real estate speculator to begin acquiring parcels of land west of the city. By the end of the Civil War he owned about 300 acres, conveniently located near the Wayne Station, a stop on the Pennsylvania Railroad in northern Delaware County. 

In 1867 he had what was described as an 80-room mansion built, shown here. The estate was named “Louella” after his daughters, Louisa and Ella. Beyond the manicured lawns and gardens was a farm and greenhouse, and then came a public library and lecture hall. In 1870 he gave land and $25,000 to build the Wayne Presbyterian Church in what would become the unincorporated community of Wayne in Radnor Township.

Just as they settled in their new home, Henry was invited to join the board of directors of  Fourth National Bank, founded in 1864. He was elected vice president in 1868, but it would be a rocky road. The next year dawned with the discovery of embezzlement by the cashier (or manager), who was arrested. It was reported that “the entire stock of the bank ($250,000) had disappeared.”

New capital was paid in, presumably by the board, and the bank reopened March 10, 1869 with the expectation that most of the money would be recovered. A new manager worked diligently to win back the public’s trust. By the end of the year it cleared $11,000 and was one of 29 “national banks” in Philadelphia that showed a profit. 

In 1870 Henry was chosen president of the board, the economy was good, and the bank continued to flourish. At the end of 1870 Fourth National had a profit of $40,000, which was heralded with numerous ads like this in the local papers.

The balance sheet as of October 2, 1871 totaled $1.37 million. A figure like that wasn’t questioned but something was going on that may have included the bank examiner who helped them out of trouble the first time. The doors closed a final time on December 19 due to insolvency.

Apparently the board was duped (and embarrassed) one last time. They came up with the  $80,000 needed to pay all their depositors’ claims by February 21, 1872. Then it was all over, and Henry must have been glad he didn’t leave his day job. Although this was an isolated case, it was followed by a flurry of bank failures across the country due to the Panic of 1873 and the depression that followed.

He sold real estate for another 22 years but he had passed the peak of his riches. The 1880 census reveals that only two servants lived in the home, down from three in 1870. Daughter  Ella was married in 1875 but lost her life due to kidney disease less than a year later. Louisa married a Presbyterian minister in 1884.

It was about this time that Henry sold the Louella estate to two men who owned Philly’s leading newspaper at the time, the Public Ledger. The partners were editor George Childs and a banker named Anthony Drexel, founder of today’s Drexel University. They were credited with the development of “the Main Line,” the neighborhoods straddling Lancaster Pike that became among the wealthiest in the country.

City directories show Henry continued to list his residence as Delaware County but the couple, who were empty-nesters in the early 1890s, downsized considerably. They migrated south, from Wayne to Morton. Henry still listed his real estate office at 631 Walnut but he slowed down after age 70. 

Perhaps the mental or physical health of the couple came into play during their final years. Wife Louisa was cared for at daughter Louisa’s home in Middletown Township, Delaware County, from around 1896 until her death in 1898. She was buried in the church yard at Middletown Presbyterian Church where her son-in-law was the pastor.

Perhaps Henry wasn’t been able to care for his wife during that time, since he also moved about that same time to  the Masonic Home at 3333 North Broad Street. He died less than 18 months after his wife, and was placed in the prominent mausoleum he had constructed for his parents in Section 27. Did he die with a lot or a little? Documentation is missing and the size of his estate wasn’t mentioned in the local newspapers. 

This is how the mausoleum looked in the early 1900s, built into the side of the hill. The “Askin” inscription remains today across the top although a portion of the front façade on the right side has fallen off, as shown above.

It also serves as the final resting place of Henry’s siblings along with daughter Ella who died shortly after her wedding. His son, George, was buried in 1951 across the creek in Section 109.

Regarding the other Askin children, Louisa and her husband remained at Middletown Presbyterian Church for several decades. Mary was a missionary in China who died a year before Louisa, and was buried beside their mother at the church. Emily married a Manhattan dentist, and Harry had a career as a New York theatrical manager. He was employed by John Philip Sousa in charge of the band’s bookings for many years.

Japanese maple tree in front of a monument at Mount Moriah Cemetery

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