As a ex-New Yorker in residence, and an eternal New Yorker in soul, I read Steve Cuozzo's real estate columns (and those of his colleague, Lois Weiss) in the New York Post on a regular basis. The Post, of course, is Rupert Murdock's flagship domestic print publication so, like the rest of the paper, the real estate columns reflect the relentlessly pro-business perspective of the publisher. Both Cuozzo and Weiss, accordingly, are pro-developer and anti-preservationist. Cuozzo, in particular, has written endless columns about the need to change city regulations to get rid of buildings he deems (his boss deems?) as "outmoded," lacking such essential amenities as "column-free space" (didn't that help the WTC collapse?) and "floor-to-ceiling windows." To be fair, he seems to approve of green construction, so that's a point in his favor. But preservation? Heaven forfend.
But, as it turns out, our hero does have a sloppy sentimental side when it comes to Big Apple landmarks. As he relates here, in a former life, he got his start in the City working as an administrative aide in an arts center housed in a deconsecrated church on West 36th Street. Like many other buildings created with the style and care common in a now-vanished world, it is to be sacrificed in the name of "progress" for a new hotel, much as my beloved Morosco and Helen Hayes Theaters were sacrificed decades ago for a similar purpose. There seems to be no reason to think that this new hotel will be any better than the Marriott Marquis that replaced the theaters--or the stately former church that Cuozzo mourns.
And mourn it he does. Frankly, I enjoyed reading his mini-memoir about his experiences in the building. His account has the level of detail, and affection for that detail, required to make me believe in its complete sincerity. In fact, I'm willing to pay it what I think is the ultimate compliment for any memoir, mini- or otherwise--it actually gives you the feeling of what it was like to be there with him, as he took in his first proverbial bite of the Big Apple. It reminded me of my own experiences working as a college senior in two art galleries for two pillars of the New York gallery scene, Marian Goodman and Carlton Willers (and Mr. Willers' housemate, Howard Hussey).
However, this is still the Post, and still Steve Cuozzo. Though he comes to mourn the building, he otherwise comes to use its impending loss in an effort to bury preservation, not to praise it. He begins the column by talking about his head and his heart being at war but, by the end of the column, his head wins by a landslide. "The city belongs to us all, not to any one of us," he intones. "To insist that [the church] stand forever would be to deny others their own future memories to cherish."
Really, Mr. Cuozzo? It would actually do that? Why could it not just as easily become the home of another non-profit arts group, as the old Astor Library did for the Public Theater? For that matter, why is total demolition of the city that once was the only alternative? Why not transfer the air space over the church to a nearby vacant lot, and let a developer put a mega-development on that?
And, perhaps above all, why must all of New York City look like Sixth Avenue in the mid-50's? Why must it be a metropolis only Fritz Lang would put into a movie, instead of Martin Scorsese? Why must it be filled Battery-to-Hells-Gate with oppressive towers that are unaffordable and unattractive to anyone but a member of the 1%? Why, that is, if the City truly belongs to all of us, and not just those who can afford to sacrifice every value but the one that folds inside a billfold or a bank account (offshore, of course)?
These are real issues, ones that go beyond the sort of "weepy" nostalgia Mr. Cuozzo exults prior to shooting it down. We would all be better served if, instead of twisting them to promote a warped, misanthropic agenda of avarice, we looked at them honestly, and resolved them in ways that worked for "all of us."
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