In Manhattan Real Estate, Wealth and Power Are Relative | Katonah NY Real Estate
AT 10 p.m. Friday, my wife, my dog and I will be forced to evacuate our home because the boom of a construction crane atop a luxury condominium tower going up next door might possibly destroy our building. It won’t be the first time: Last October, we had to evacuate for six days after Hurricane Sandy left the boom dangling precariously over West 57th Street, a situation that drew headlines worldwide. But this time, we’re being forced out merely because the city government wants to save the developer of the tower money and time.
I’m not looking for sympathy. I live near Central Park in a landmark 1909 co-op, Alwyn Court, where apartments sell for as much as $2 million. And the developer of the tower has offered each household $1,500 to pay for hotel rooms for the 22 hours we’ll have to evacuate. But in the world of New York City real estate, money, power and influence are all relative. In the tower next door, known as One57, penthouses have reportedly been sold for upward of $90 million. To the people who’ve bought them, $1,500 is chump change. And to the people who run this city, they matter. My neighbors and I — as I hope this story will demonstrate — don’t.
As the storm surge from Hurricane Sandy struck the city on Oct. 29, fierce winds loosened the boom from the crane. Twisting hundreds of feet above Midtown Manhattan, it threatened several landmark buildings, including Carnegie Hall and Alwyn Court, the safety of residents, and high-pressure steam and gas lines. That evening, on 20 minutes’ notice, my wife and I found ourselves dragging a hastily packed suitcase and a sopping wet dog down Central Park South, walking toward the home of a friend who’d offered us shelter. Some of our neighbors, who range from demi-celebrities to a bedridden 95-year-old living in a rent-regulated apartment, weren’t so lucky. At least one ended up in a public shelter.
At first, no one thought about the cost — financial or emotional — of being torn from their home on a moment’s notice. We knew that many had it much, much worse. Some still do. We spent nearly a week as privileged refugees, first with our friend, then in a rented apartment. Our expenses mounted. We kept what receipts we could, hoping we’d be compensated.
Five days after we were allowed back home, we contacted Extell Development Company, which is building One57.
We were asked to submit a claim for reimbursement, which was promised “within two to three weeks.” Two months later, we were still waiting. And when a check for $1,397.81 finally arrived in late January — from Extell’s construction company, Lend Lease — it was for about a quarter of what we’d asked for, which included lost income, since I work from home.
Comments