It Looks Like a Whipped Cream Dessert, but the Kőrössy Villa Hides Treasures

At first glance, the building appears simple and restrained. However, when examining the façade and the decorations surrounding the windows more closely, one discovers a wealth of elaborate details: vines, fruits, nymphs, lions, peacocks and poppy capsules. “The main façade decoration depicts three figures. The man working with a chisel and hammer represents sculpture, while the woman holding a palette represents painting. The third figure is an architect measuring the proportions of a model. We realised that this figure was none other than the former owner, Albert Kálmán Kőrössy. The face of the relief preserves his features, and the model itself is the villa,” explained András Szabó, who commissioned two artists to recreate the façade elements until they achieved perfect results.

Who was Albert Kálmán Kőrössy? On the one hand, he was the fabulously wealthy owner of the villa; on the other, he was one of Hungary’s unjustly forgotten architects. His life remains somewhat mysterious because, unlike many other renowned creators, he barely wrote about himself and left behind no notes, letters or diaries. What we know about him today was uncovered through the research of art historian Eszter Baldavári. What is certain is that while the first fifty years of his life were marked by success and splendour, the remaining thirty-six were characterised by poverty and persecution. Albert Kálmán Kőrössy was born in 1869 as Albert Neumann into a Jewish family, but later converted to Catholicism. He first changed his surname to Kőrösi, and after receiving a noble title, to Kőrössy. He was not alone in doing so: after the Austro-Hungarian Compromise of 1867, many people Hungarianised their names. Kőrössy was a true cosmopolitan. He studied architecture in Paris and Munich, and he became so fascinated by Mudéjar architecture – a style blending Iberian Muslim, Jewish and Christian elements – that he even learned Spanish. In Budapest, he began working in the office of Alajos Hauszmann, among other projects contributing to the designs of the New York Palace. He started building the villa while still a young, unmarried architect and as the neighbour of György Klösz. He likely moved into the building around 1900–1902. The timing was perfect, because not only had the bricks fallen into place, but his private life also took shape: in 1902 he married Dóra Paula Román, who came from a wealthy family. Besides its representative rooms, the villa also included a food lift, and several wardrobes were built for the always elegant Mrs Kőrössy and their two daughters. Life must have been idyllic for the family in this increasingly prestigious neighbourhood. Behind the villa – much to the neighbour’s displeasure – a stable was built where Kőrössy kept his four horses, while he worked in the small rear villa. His daughters studied English, French and German. Mrs Kőrössy also found her own place in society: on Erzsébet Boulevard she established a ladies’ club where women could learn languages, go on excursions and organise bridge evenings. At times, the villa was filled with the barking of dogs: the lady of the house entered her Japanese spaniels Csuli, Makura, Chini and Geisha in dog beauty contests. Meanwhile, Kőrössy achieved success after success in his profession. Among others, he designed the Kölcsey Ferenc Secondary School (26 Munkácsy Mihály Street), the Sonnenberg House (23 Munkácsy Mihály Street), the Walko House (3 Aulich Street) and the Dayka Villa (26 Benczúr Street). My personal favourite is the magnificent Art Nouveau building of the former school in the Tisztviselőtelep district, also known as the Fairy Palace (40 Könyves Kálmán Boulevard).

During the First World War, many wealthy families opened the doors of their mansions so that the Red Cross could establish military hospitals in their homes. Like the rest of Europe’s population, these affluent families expected a conflict lasting only months, not years. On the ground floor of the Kőrössy Villa, a ten-bed hospital ward was created. After the war, Albert Kőrössy no longer designed buildings, instead focusing on his successful financial and construction companies. Thanks to these enterprises, by 1917 he had become the third highest taxpayer in the city, surpassing even arms manufacturer Manfréd Weiss, confectionery magnate Emil Gerbeaud and banker Lajos Hatvany-Deutsch.

Then, in 1919, the Hungarian Soviet Republic came to power, and everything changed overnight under the short-lived proletarian dictatorship. The family was forced to flee the villa. Due to the Treaty of Trianon, they lost their estates in Transylvania, and between 1920 and 1923 they were even imprisoned, although little information remains about this period. Temporary residents moved into the villa on Városligeti fasor and stole or damaged many of its belongings, so when Mrs Kőrössy was finally able to cross the threshold of her home again, she found a looted residence. After their children had left home, the couple divorced in 1930. Kőrössy was forced to leave the villa when the Second World War broke out. In the 1940s, Albert and Dóra found their way back to each other and endured the difficult years of internment together, although exactly where and how remains lost to history.

Kőrössy experienced not only the First and Second World Wars, the Treaty of Trianon and the Hungarian Soviet Republic as an adult, but also the oppression of the Rákosi era. As a former capitalist magnate, he could expect little from the new regime. The architect lived in complete poverty somewhere in the countryside and could only travel to Budapest for medical treatments due to his lung cancer. He died there in 1955, but most of his buildings still stand and are used every day. A year after his death, the printing house moved into the villa, and after the fall of communism it became the property of András Szabó’s company, Resonator Ltd. “We originally used the villa as our company headquarters; as an asset management company, our offices were located here. We created an apartment in the attic. Now the building is preparing for a new role,” explained the owner, who, alongside his business activities, is also one of the country’s most significant art collectors. His collection of approximately one thousand Zsolnay pieces is considered remarkable even by international standards.