5 November 2020
Trigger:
Benny Goodman had five flats unfurnished (or was it six?). Tell us the story of that special flat (apartment) you lived in once.
The Chatsworth
340 West 72nd Street
New York, NY
1906
Lenore Dean was enchanted. Each morning she would get up and run to the large window of her bedroom, push back the heavy red velvet curtains and release the shade back up onto its roller to look at the spectacular view.”I’m the luckiest girl in the world “ she would say to herself, mesmerized by the site of Riverside park extending up the Hudson river to the George Washington Bridge. The park’s lush greenery and plantings, softened the expanse of apartment building which wound their way up the right side of the park along Riverside Drive. .
She thought she must be the luckiest girl in all of Manhattan as she proceeded to open the other three windows of her large bedroom, flooding it with light. As the top floor apartment of the 8 story building, the ceiling was 12 feet high with curved wooden moldings and a plaster medallion surrounding the Chrystal chandelier which rainbowed the sunlight around the walls and played its tinkling music in the breeze which flowed in.
Her father, Justin Dean, had insisted on the highest quality materials and design from the architechts McKim, Mead and White, who only did the best buildings in Manhattan. The turn of the century saw the Upper West Side of Manhattan transformed from grungy wooden docks, supply stores, gin joints and warehouses following the railroad tracks along the river, into one of the most gentrified of the city. The only blight on the view was the NYCentral rail line that continued to spewed coal smoke and noise as it passed north alongside the park.
But that did not bother Lenore so much. After all, her daddy, as a member of the board of the NY Central was able to secure this prime lot at the south edge of the park, at the north edge of the switching yards,due to his connection to the railroad. A spur even ended in the second basement of the Chatsworth so that they could board or exit the train by the elevator directly from their floor. Daddy was always away on railroad business so it made the most of his time when home. He had his office in the back or the apartment which overlooked the main yards of the railroad. It allowed him to also keep track of the liners and vessels loading and unloading people and products at the main docks along the lower part of the hudson.
These were the best of times for the Deans. Cora Dean, Lenore’s mother, had come from one of the 400, the families identified by Mrs Astor as Manhattan Royalty. As the 4th of five daugters of one of the less wealthy of the 400,, she was one of the last to marry as most of the prime bachelors had already been taken. Justin, was newly rich, having worked his way up through the railroad starting as a road hand, to his position as general manager then a member of the board which was facilitated by his marriage.
Justin was a product of his time, a hard drinking striver who fought with his fists as much as his brains to move himself up in the world. His world was business and the men who made New York City the emerging financial capitol of the world. It was all about investments, and finding and maintaining cheap labor and keeping the trains running at maximum profit. It consumed him, and most of his time.
Cora lived in a totally different world. She was pale and frail. Constantly suffering from colds nervousness and depression, she spent much of her day, on the couch, looking out the window of the salon and dreaming of a world which did not exist. After Lenore’s birth, she had retreated into her own bedroom straining even further her marriage and relation with Justin. When she went out, it was only to see her mother, or one of her sisters on the East side of town. They would commiserate with her about her life but then, that is the way things were they would inevitably say and she would return to the apartment feeling no better. And she would retreat back into the world of her mind.
In a way, it suited them both. It made Justin feel free to pursue any number of other relationships. He frequented the restaurants and private clubs of Manhattan with one beauty or another on his arm, spending extravagantly on their dress and upkeep. It was a mark of success in those robber baron days. He had built the Chatsworth to give a suitable ostentatious habitat for his family and close enough to his work. And with the fully fitted private car in the basement, he could come and go as he pleased and with whom he pleased.
The only thing they had in common was Lenore. But as Cora retreated further into her depression, it left Lenore more and more to Justin. And he adored her. Lavishing her with toys and clothes and most important, his time. As she got older, he would take her with him in the private car. And she learned his hard business style and never forgot.
1936
Lenore Dean had a decision to make. She awoke in her bedroom of the Chatsworth. As was her habit, she pulled back the heavy velvet curtains, raised the blind and stared out the window. What she saw in front of her was a park that had turned to dirt and mud in many places. The City had decided that the degradation of the park was such that it needed to be totally redone. Robert Moses, the recreator of Manhattan had taken it on as part of the establishment of the highways that circled the island. Riverside drive was to be turned into a boulevard and the West Side highway built along the railroad tracks bordering the river. And all was to be sunken below ground with the park built up to provide an unblemished view from the apartments and buildings which stretched up to the George Washington bridge.
Lenore’s busy brain was calculating the implications of the renovated park and neighborhood. It would make the value of the buildings and the apartments which lined it rise. And in the depths of the depression, that was one small ray of hope for her. All she had left from her father’s fortune was the Chatsworth and a few smaller buildings spread out in lower Manhattan. Those were already serving as tenements and filled with the poor and poorer. The rent was steady but not great. And it was a constant fight to collect the rents.
And more frightening to Lenore, was the announced intent by Mayor LaGuardia, to establish rent controls in the City. That would mean that anyone living in a building was entitled to stay there and rents could only be raised every three years and by a small percentage. It would mean that Lenore would be stuck where she was. And she was not ready to accept that. She had to act before the law went into effect. And there was only one solution : the eight single floor apartments in the Chatsworth would have to be cut up. And she would have to give up her’s, the most prized in the building. But it had to be done.
Daddy has thrown away his fortune as the years had passed. The great war had not been good to him as price controls put in place by Teddy Roosevelt and the break up of the railroad monopolies and trusts had cut directly into his income. But his expenditures had not been cut. There was the brief time after the war that he had plunged into the expanding stock market and the paper profits looked far greater than they were in reality. His over-leverage postilions in 1929, had left him exposed with the October crash of ’29. He was broken in spirit as well as financially. He wasted away and died in 1931 leaving what was left of his estate including all the debts, to Lenore. Cora had died many years before.
So plans were made to divide the 10 room apartments of each floor into 3 separate apartments as rentals. That way she would have 24 income producing apartments from the building. It was done and she survived buying up what small buildings she could during the following decades. She did everything herself, even collecting the rents in person. She would not trust anyone, as her father had, and look how he ended up. She would not let that happen to her.
1976
The elderly lady trudged up the steps of the Chatsworth, pushed through the outer door. Inserting a key in the lock, and with difficulty she pulled open the heavy cast iron, gold painted grilled inner door and let herself into the pink walled lobby. Despite the August heat, she wore her usual black felt hat and black mink cape covering her stocky body. Wheezing with the exertion, she walked over to the elevators and punched the button for the 8th floor. Lenore was there to get a lease signed for the front apartment.
Waiting at the door to number 8A was the young Midwestern couple who had just been transferred to Manhattan. It was their dream move away from the conservative flat lands of the central US. Lenore eyed them as she left the elevator. “They still have that glazed, unaware look of people coming to the big city. That will soon change. But first I have to get their name on the lease.”
“So you want to see the apartment Well, it’s one of the best in the city. I should know, I used to live here myself.” Using two different keys for the double locks, she pushed open the door into the foyer. “Well here we are. You’ll not find many like this. You’re lucky, We got it painted after that old man who lived here finally died. Otherwise it would not have come back on the market. You know how terrible it is for us owners to have to deal with the Rent Control system. They are stealing us blind, these renters. You are also lucky I can only raise the rent a limited amount. Go on in. Look around.
The young woman went to her left into the salon. She was immediately drawn to the three large windows which let light stream into the large room. And there was the view. Riverside Park shown green next to the wide blue Hudson River on the left with the substantial turn of the century buildings framing the park to the right. And all capped off by the GW bridge at the end of the view. She knew she had to have this one, no matter the cost. Well, the cost did matter. They were just starting out.
‘So how much will this be again?”, the husband asked, at least trying to retain some cool.
“Like I said, I’m limited to charging $500 a month. And that includes heat of course.”
He calculated. The annual rent was one-fourth the price of the house they had left behind. But it was less than many they had seen in the City and most of those had been small dark and unlivable spaces. Looking at the smile on his wife’s face, he decided. “Yes. Of course. We’ll take it. What do we do next?”
“Well, there will be a 2 month deposit and you can sign this lease for one year.”
“But we will likely be here far longer than that.”
“That’s all I have to give you so do ;you want it or not?” She had been dealing in property for 45 years. She could tell from the look on the wife’s face they would sign. They were children to the ways of the city.
It was only after they had moved in and they began to meet others living in the building that they learned about Lenore Dean’s methods. Despite legally required to give 3 year leases, she only gave one year leases because that allowed her to raise the rents each year instead of every three. And since the increase was percentage based, the price rose higher than the law allowed.
Over half the tenants had been on a rent strike with Lenore for 5 years. That meant that their lease price was fixed without raise, until the strike was settled. And they paid into a court administered escrow account. In effect as Lenore never settled it became like a savings account for each renter.
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She had various other tricks as well. Such as saying she did not receive a monthly rent check so that she could claim you were in violation of the lease, throw you out, and then raise the rent the maximum for the next occupants. The couple learned about that method the hard way the day they came home to find an eviction notice on the door It cost them an attorney to overcome that event. From then on, for the next 10 years, he would drop the rent check off in person at her agent’s office.
And then there was the building maintenance, very little of it. The elevator would go out for a week or two before a repairman would arrive. That 8th floor view became less appealing after the long walk up the stairs. And when public areas were painted, the color was whatever was cheap or on hand. Thus the pink lobby.
By law in New York City, heat was to be supplied from October through April. They just do not specify how much heat. It was provided for two hours in the morning and two hours in the evening whatever the temp outside. Tenants were as likely to sweat in October and April as they were to freeze November through March.
Each year, the couple’s rent would go up the maximum 3% compounded over the 13 years they lived there. By by the end of the 80s, the rent control laws had begun to be relaxed and the apartment became an even better value in relation to a comparable place in the City.
But the apartments rarely turned over. Everyone was waiting for Lenore to settle the rent strike or die. And she would rather have died than settle. It did come to a head at one point in the mid 80s and a judge ordered her to appear in court the following week with all her records. She showed up before the judge, without the records and claimed there had been a mysterious fire in her basement and all the records were destroyed. So she, and they, hung on until her death.
2006
Everyone hoped that her only heir, a nephew, would decide to turn the building condo. That would mean they could purchase their apartment at a greatly reduced price as the official lease holder got a major advantage, using all the money they had been paying into escrow while the strike remained in effect. However, he turned out to be only slightly better at his care for the building and the tenants than she had been. And the strike went on until the building was finally turned into condos in 2006. By then of course, many of the older tenants had died, and the nephew left the apartments vacant, so that he could claim the price advantage when it went condo. Which he did and made millions reselling them onto the open market.
Those who had remained and made the transition saw the value of their investment soar as well. The old railroad yards behind the building where Justin Dean looked out over his responsibility were finally closed. The land was purchased by a young investor by the name of Donald Trump. He proposed developing the area and putting up a massive sky scraper or building a sports stadium. His plans were tied up in court for decades when his own financial problems dictated that he sell at a major profit. The area was finally developed as a mix use enclave with upscale shops, condos and apartments. It opened in the spring of 2020, just as the virus hit the city.
The young couple grew to middle age. And life took them away from Manhattan in 1989 to another place. Their time living in the City had been some of the best of their life. Every day, they were able to come home to that view and sit and watch it turn to night and see the lights come on in the buildings and the streets and the park And always, capping it off at the end was the string of lights that outlined the George Washington Bridge. Their bridge, their view, and it would bring a smile of contentment and wonder to their face at how lucky they were to be living in the Chatsworth.
Riverside Park in Autumn
view from The Chatsworth north up the Hudson River and Riverside Park to the George Washington Bridge from apartment 8C
Author’s note: Other than the historically-related facts and description of the building, the story from 1906 to 1976 is an effort of creative writing. However, Lenore Dean was the owner of the Chatsworth when we moved there in 1976 and the story from that point is true…with one exception. We did not in fact move into apartment 8A which fronts the top floor of the building with the three large windows per room. It was occupied then, as now, by R*** and N**** who enjoyed the conversion to condos. We were in fact in 8C which is in the back of the building, overlooking the rail yards. However, we did have one window with the narrow view shown in the photo above. Imagine it filling one whole wall of a room with a 180 degree view, as I did in the story.