THEN AND NOW: The South Park

 The South Park, then and now.

1988

2025

The 'then' pictures were photographed by Steve Stempel in 1988 to record the state of the parks that the newly formed Tudor City Greens was about to inherit. The 'now' photos were made 37 years later.

1988

2025

A then-and-now post on the North Park, here.

More MISCELLANY

Once again, a few interesting bits of trivia.

From last Sunday's Post comes a story about the vicissitudes of New York's real estate market, entitled Prices Growing, Growing, Gone! The study of the market over the last ten years, it was a uplifting tale ‒ particularly if 0ne is a real estate agent ‒ except for a couple of straggling neighborhoods.

The main straggler, according to the Post, is "Tudor City, an apartment complex that consumes the area between East 40th and East 43rd streets and First and Second avenues. It took the greatest hit, with prices falling 17% from $402,000 in 2014 to $335,000 last year." 

Thanks to Vanessa Groce for the tip.

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Photograph around 1929, showcasing the two Tudor City signs. Then there was another sign on The Woodstock's western wall. . .

WOODSTOCK TOWER is all we can make out, however.

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The oil painting, Festival of St. Roch by E. Debat-Ponsan, hung in the lounge of Hotel Tudor in the 1950s; this postcard celebrated it.

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Finally, John McKean calls for an emergency meeting in his newsletter of January 25, 1981. "We still can win, but we must fight!"

RESTAURANTS: La Bibliotheque

Now it is finally time to investigate a somewhat forgotten Tudor City restaurant, La Bibliotheque, located at 341 E. 43rd Street. For reasons unknown, the building that housed it was never considered a part of Tudor City. Perhaps it was the fact that its main entrance was on First Avenue. 

The restaurant opened in late 1969, and very quickly announced itself as an upscale establishment. They had hired a high-powered press agent to spread the word, and early visitors included Ginger Rogers, Rosalind Russell, Mel Brooks, and Anne Bancroft.

There were three Times reviews over the years ‒ three two-star reviews ‒ noting successful dishes (the "excellent" broiled red snapper) and some not so successful (the "overcooked" roast duck). There was nothing wrong with its wall of books, UN views, and makeshift outdoor space, however.

   

The menu was printed on a facsimile of the French newspaper, Le Monde.

On the inside pages, the menu was laid out. The autograph is unknown, perhaps that of the chef.

This was its story for the next decade. Then, in 1983, came the startling news that the owners had skimmed $790,000 in profits, and soon thereafter they were convicted, and the restaurant closed. The Permanent Mission of the Kingdom of Bhutan to the United Nations took over the space in 1985.

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A special thanks to Fabrice Frere who supplied the matchbook that inspired this post.

WINDOWS

Above, the headline from the New York Times on May 18, 1988 announcing the official landmarking of the colony. But it's the sub-headline that gives us pause: RULING SUPPORTS EFFORT TO PRESERVE WINDOWS. Apparently, there was another victory to celebrate, the protection of the windows. The paper elaborates:

The most widespread impact of the landmark district could be on any window replacement programs undertaken individually or collectively at the apartment buildings, which are being or have been converted to co-operative ownership.

 

The maintenance of original windows was one of the major goals of the preservation effort, which had its roots in a period 10 years ago when "there was a feeling of panic about losing the parks."

Now, nearly one hundred years since Tudor City opened, the original windows ‒ made of steel ‒ are obsolete, their replacements are aluminum. 

Below, The Woodstock's Window Replacement Master Plan.

This is the work of Acheson Doyle Partners, an architectural firm known for its historic bent. After much back-and-forth, the window designs were finally approved, then offered to Woodstock residents at a reduced price. 

Given that each window cost the resident $4,100, most felt, if it ain't broke, don't fix it, and that was that. The battle over the windows continues. . .

Harry Helmsley is Going to Destroy This Park!

A couple of rare photographs showing the plywood put up around the North Park on Memorial Day weekend, 1980, prior to demolition by Harry Helmsley. Or at least the attempted demolition by Harry Helmsley.

Of course, the plywood attracted immediate graffiti from the locals, in both good taste and exquisitely bad taste.

Apparently, some of the graffiti hit too close to home, and the blue paint covered up some of the previous work. Someone has written We love trees, but Helmsley is sleaze, so let's bring him to his knees. Somebody else wrote YEAH! 

Our favorite cartoon ‒ the rear end of an ass.

The second photo has some good lines ‒ These parks are the unreal estate of H. Helmslee ‒ but the primary graffiti is key:

Rather convoluted at best, the joke lumbers along until finally coming to its end. There was an addendum in another hand reading This is too low (bottom right). Apparently not everyone liked this approach, but hey, that's Tudor City for you.

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These pictures come courtesy of Fabrice Frere, who photographed the scene as a teenager. Thanks, Fabrice. 

Tudor City's PEARL HARBOR DAY

Protestors call out Harry Helmsley. Behind them, the wall.

Today, a look back at May 24, 1980, when Tudor City took on Harry Helmsley over the fate of its parks. It was written just days after the events, and is taken from the June 1980 Tudor City Association newsletter.

TUDOR CITY'S 1980 PEARL HARBOR DAY began Saturday morning May 24th at 7 a.m. when truckloads of lumber and about 20 workmen arrived at the North Park to start construction of a wall around the park. Lisa Ericsen alerted Tudor City Association President John McKean, who, thorough the use of a bullhorn, immediately called residents for emergency action. Even though it was Memorial Day weekend, the community responded at once! Within 30 minutes, over 200 people were on the street. In another 30 minutes, they had removed all of the lumber from the park and police arrived in force. Meanwhile, TCA was searching for a lawyer and a judge, both difficult to find on a holiday weekend.

They finally got a restraining order, but things were far from resolved.   

VOLUNTEERS SLEPT in the park Saturday night ‒ fortunately ‒ because at 7 a.m. on Sunday, Fay Weprin reported the arrival of more lumber, workmen and a bulldozer.  Disregarding the restraining order, Helmsley was attempting another attack. Careful advance planning was evident ‒ when the bulldozer arrived, a lady unknown in Tudor City jumped into a car and drove away, clearing the way into the park. About a dozen residents formed a human chain in front of the bulldozer. Police responded quickly to call for help and ordered the bulldozer and workmen out.

And so it went for several days. When the courts lifted the ban, the workers continued to build the wall. The TCA took the politics out on the street and picketed Helmsley's office and home. Then, realizing he was losing the public relations battle, Helmsley backed down and agreed to remove the wall, and give fifteen days notice before resumption.

ON TUESDAY,JUNE 3,HELMSLEY TOOK DOWN HIS WALL, a happy ending to ten bad days. However, we must remember this is only a battle we've won, not the war. The entire community can be happy about its courage against overwhelming financial power, and we can all be proud to be a part of a community that has again defended itself effectively.

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For further reading, check out the entire document.

THEN AND NOW

The lanterns bracketing the Prospect Tower plaque, then and now.

1988

Above, the plaque at the entryway of No. 45, bracketed by two stained glass lanterns, in 1988.  These appear to be the building's original lanterns, by then in a state of disrepair ‒ particularly the fixture at right, missing an entire glass panel. 

2020

The lanterns were removed at some point in the 1990s. Although nothing like the originals, the replacements have a acquired a vintage patina after 25+ years outdoors.

Speaking of fixtures on No. 45's facade, check out the story of its mysterious menu holder, here. 

What Makes Tudor City Historic?

Someone asked us the other day what exactly makes Tudor City historic. While we can think of thousands of reasons, it's probably best for the Landmarks Preservation Commission to spell it out. Herewith, a summary taken from the 1988 Tudor City Historic District Designation Report. The principle reasons for the community's designation are its:

Designation report cover

★ "Unprecedented size."

★ "Rapid construction."

★ "Revolutionary financial planning."

★ "Immediate and sustained popularity with New Yorkers."

★ Its parks, "the green core around which Tudor City revolves."

★ Its "extravagant" Tudor Revival architecture, which provides a "distinct sense of place." (Hotel Tudor's "art deco setbacks and raised brick patterns" are also cited.)

★ A design "sensitive to its physical context" that includes much "fine ornament and stained glass" that remains in its "original state."

★ Finally, this "pioneering venture in private urban renewal" brought about "the return of middle-class respectability to Midtown's East Side. . . Subsequent apartment building complexes incorporated lessons learned from Tudor City."

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Access the entire 81-page designation report here.

ARTIFACT: National Register of Historic Places DESIGNATION MAP

Above, the official map from the National Register of Historic Places delineating the borders of the Tudor City Historic District. The designation was made on September 11, 1986.

WHAT'S IN: all the buildings constructed by Fred F. French from 1925-1930, a church dating from 1871, four 1870s rowhouses [holdouts that refused to sell to French], and a 1926 apartment building.

WHAT'S OUT: the two children's playgrounds adjacent to the parks, and No. 2, Tudor Gardens, 30 years old at the time of designation. Generally, properties must be at least 50 years old to be included in the National Register.

Residents: TWIGGY

In this installment of our notable residents series, meet Twiggy, supermodel and Tudor City tenant. Here is her life, in bullet points:

✪  Born Lesley Hornby, 1949. Begins her modeling career at age 16 in 1965. Her big eyes, stick-thin frame and boyish haircut make for an androgynous look perfect for the Swinging Sixties. Becomes an iconic figure ‒ one of the first international supermodels ‒ overnight.

✪  Retires from modeling in 1970, transitioning into movies (The Boyfriend) and the theater (a Tony Award‒nominated turn in the musical My One and Only).

✪  Marries British actor Leigh Lawson in 1988, and continues to work as a singer, author, fashion designer and television personality. Made a Dame of the British Empire in March 2019.

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Twiggy's Instagram feed reveals that she lived in Tudor City in 1984, most likely when she was on Broadway in My One and Only. 

THEN AND NOW

The North Park, then and now.

1988

2019

This episode of Then and Now contrasts the sorry state of Tudor City's parks in 1988 to their current lush iteration.

Following real estate titan Harry Helmsley's acquisition of Tudor City in 1970, the parks' maintenance went into serious decline. Helmsley had announced plans to replace them with luxury apartment towers, and thus saw no point in their upkeep. Though this controversial plan never happened, it unfolded over 15 long years, and the parks suffered. (More about the Helmsley era, here.)

The 'then' pictures in this post come courtesy of Tudor City Greens' archive, and were photographed by Steve Stempel in 1988, the year the Greens was founded.

1988

2019

CONFIDENTIAL: Tudor City's Most Sensational Crime

This episode of our Confidential series looks at the most sensational crime ever committed in the colony ‒ the notorious 1985 triple slaying in a Tudor Tower studio apartment.

George Senty

Three bodies are discovered in the apartment the morning of January 3, 1985. The victims are George Senty, 62, a freelance photographer and tenant of the apartment; Piroska Lantos, 29, a fashion model with whom Senty was obsessed; and Agnes Gramiss, 37, Piroska's roommate. All three are Hungarian.

Senty, a Budapest native, emigrated to New York in 1957 and opened a photo studio. He readily adapts to American ways, and by the '70s is sporting designer jeans and gold neck chains. He's quite the ladies' man, despite a perpetual cash-flow problem.

When visiting Budapest, he drives a Lincoln Continental and claims to be a famous fashion photographer. Everyone believes him, but in fact, his New York studio is barely scraping by. By 1984, he's decidedly on the downswing, mired in debt, and reduced to selling his cameras.

Piroska Lantos, photographed by Senty

Enter Piroska Lantos, Hungary's top model. For years, Senty has been urging her to come to New York, where he'll make her a star. He's hopelessly infatuated with her. In March 1984, she finally accepts his offer, even agreeing to move in with him. Expecting a chic penthouse, she finds a Tudor City studio apartment instead. Her wannabe boyfriend, truth be told, is a complete fraud. 

She moves out, signs with Legends modeling agency and walks the runway for Ungaro, Carolina Herrera, and Guy LaRoche, among others.

Senty continues to pursue her, growing ever more obsessed. He morosely tells friends "she is a star and I am a nobody," and threatens suicide. He believes that her roommate, Agnes Gramiss, dislikes him and is turning Piroska against him. He's convinced the women are having an affair.

It all finally comes to a head on New Year's Day, 1985. After taking the women out to dinner, he invites them to his apartment for a champagne toast. He serves the champagne, then goes into the bathroom, pulls a chrome-plated 32-caliber snubnose revolver out of the hamper, and shoots both women dead. Then he kills himself with four shots to the chest.

The story was so shocking that it even made the front page of the New York Times. Over at the Daily News, Piroska's face held page one for two days running, above. [The Goetz headline refers to Bernie Goetz, the infamous subway vigilante who had shot four teenagers the preceding week.]

The community was stunned. The News ran a how-could-it-happen-here story, above.

For the definitive, in-depth account of the crime, check out Patricia Morrisroe's excellent New York magazine piece, "Obsession," here.

Strange But True: DONALD TRUMP, PARKS SAVIOR

Hard as it may be to imagine, Donald Trump played a role in preserving Tudor City's parks.

Trump and a model of Trump Tower, 1980.

Flash back to Manhattan, 1981.  Donald Trump is 35, a brash striver in the real estate game, not unlike another young up-and-comer from another era, our very own Fred French.

At the time, renowned real estate mogul Harry Helmsley is having problems with Tudor City. He bought most of the complex in 1970, and for the last decade has been trying to build apartment towers on Tudor City's two parks. There has been fierce opposition from the community, backed up by increasingly irate newspaper editorials. Helmsley's reputation is in tatters.

The current proposal on the table is a land swap ‒ the parks would be spared and Helmsley would be given a city-owned vacant lot on the corner of 42nd St and First Ave, the site of a public playground.

Enter Andrew Stein, Manhattan Borough President and parks supporter. Stein is friendly with Donald Trump, who has informed him that the playground lot is, in fact, waterfront property, and worth far more than its appraised value. Stein arranges a meeting on the eve of the Board of Estimate vote, and invites Trump to attend.

It's a set-up. Not long into the meeting, Trump effectively kills the swap by offering to buy the playground for the tidy sum of $25 million. He pulls out his checkbook and waves it in the air. "This is good," he announces. "You can call the bank to find out."

He doesn't have to say much more. The folly of the city trading valuable property for the two parks is quite plain. The playground land swap never even comes to a vote. Instead, a less desirable First Ave property is offered to Helmsley, and more debate ensues.

In the end, Helmsley finally yields in 1985, selling the complex altogether. His reputation never fully recovers from the Tudor City debacle. Years later, Andrew Stein is arrested for income tax evasion, and Donald Trump is elected President of the United States. Strange but true.

PICTURE OF THE DAY

A penthouse in No. 5 with views of the East River, from a 1987 brochure.

Tudor City on Film: KOJAK: FATAL FLAW

Telly Savalas and Angie Dickinson, flanked by a terra cotta goat and the UN.

One of the more memorable TV series of the 1970s was Kojak, the adventures of a seen-it-all NYC cop with a penchant for Tootsie Pops.

After the show ended, it was later revived as a series of made-for-TV movies. Today's episode, Kojak: Fatal Flaw, ran as an ABC Saturday Mystery on December 2, 1989.

The plot follows Kojak (Telly Savalas) investigating the murder of a writer whose widow (Angie Dickinson) is a prime suspect ‒ and coincidentally a former flame of Kojak, once upon a time.

The movie opens with a literal bang, as a mobster gets whacked on 41st St, opposite No. 2.

Cut to Kojak, visiting The Hermitage to investigate a missing person, a renowned author. He's come to interview the writer's wife.

After the writer is found dead, his wife becomes a suspect. Kojak interviews her again on her swanky penthouse terrace ‒ shot atop No. 5, even though she supposedly lives in The Hermitage. That's the movies for you!

After many interviews, Kojak manages to worm a confession out of her. 

The movie concludes with a stylish perp walk out of The Hermitage to a waiting patrol car.

Kojak turns melancholy as she's taken away to the slammer.

Driving off in the wrong direction on a mysteriously car-free 43rd Street, the patrol car fades into the distance. He follows slowly . . .

. . . lost in thought as the music swells. Who knew Kojak had feelings?