Part 2 of 2
The co-operative building is legend.
Former home of John Lennon, Lauren Bacall and Leonard Bernstein, location of Rosemary’s Baby, the hulking Dakota on a corner of Central Park West at 72nd St. continues under the cloud of a $15 million lawsuit lodged by an African-American resident who served two terms as president of the board.
Alphonse Fletcher Jr., who moved into the building in 1992 claims racial discrimination in the board’s rejection of his application to purchase an adjoining apartment. His complaint adds that he wasn’t alone, naming Continue reading
Part 1 of 2
Grossman, 210 E. 36th St., and Thandrayen. (Source: The Real Deal)
It is up to the courts to decide whether a prospective buyer’s claim of discrimination is valid in a $1 million lawsuit.
But the case brought by an African whose application to a seven-member co-op board was rejected highlights the treacherous terrain of anti-discrimination laws.
According to the Real Deal last week, Goldwyn Thandrayen, a native of Mauritius, contended in a complaint amended two weeks ago that the board of 210 E. 36th St. in the Murray Hill neighborhood discriminated against him on the basis of national origin. Continue reading
It probably isn’t a stretch to venture that the Dakota, at 1 W. 72nd St., is the most photographed apartment building in Manhattan and possibly the whole world.
It is, of course, where John Lennon lived at the time of his death in front of the building, never mind a slew of other celebrities. It also was shown as the site where Rosemary’s baby was born.
Departing from my norm of providing only vague addresses of the properties that I visit, let me tell you about a co-op that went on the market there in April. And it is one memorable apartment. Continue reading
Manhattan isn’t the only borough with prestige buildings
Every borough has its buildings that tower, literally or figuratively, over the rest of the housing stock, notes the New York Times. (Well, almost every borough: Staten Island’s upper crust tends to live in single-family houses.)
The residents of these august structures say their homes in Queens, Brooklyn and the are every bit as Continue reading
” . . . The saddest are these: It might have been.”
The San Remo
So wrote the 19th Century poet John Greenleaf Whittier.
The building pictured above and the one below represent some of the most memorable moments in which my life as an apartment owner might have been quite different.
The time was probably 1974-75, when New York City was facing possible bankruptcy.
My then-wife and I had saved enough money for a modest down payment–laughable now for its small size–and had decided it was time to buy an apartment.
We looked and looked, even made a false start by making an offer on a place that, as I dimly recall, belonged to a New York Times writer (Clive Barnes?) on West End Avenue. As the offers flew back and forth, we chickened out after a sleepless night.
Then we saw a beautifully maintained two-bedroom corner apartment in the San Remo Continue reading