August 13, 2004
No News
August is not the month to write a real estate column, at least so far as breaking news is concerned. The following comments are vaguely real estate related, I suppose, and must suffice until the town comes back to life .
Best Kept Secret in Town?
While biking around Tod’s the other day I noticed a car sporting a decal depicting the boot that comprises the park. Turns out the sticker is part of a fund raiser for the Greenwich Point Conservancy which seeks to preserve the old buildings at Tod’s like the bell tower. That seems like a good idea and the stickers have, I think, more cachet than the oh-so-plebian Fisher’s Island and Nantucket ACK Euro-ovals, but I was unable to find a means to contact the Conservancy in time for this article’s deadline. If someone will provide that information, I’d be happy to publicize such a good cause. In the meantime, you’ll have to make do with your tired old Martha’s Vineyard beach permit, the proper display etiquette for which is patiently explained in my earlier work, “The New Millionaire’s Handbook”.
Speaking of the Point, I was heading that way on my bicycle recently when I was ridden down by a member of the Greatest Generation. Don’t worry about not stopping, Gramps—once I mopped the blood out of my sunglasses and from my ears my sensory perception was again far better than yours. I do hope this guy heads for Florida when school starts, though.
Meet Me at the Wrecking Ball
An article in Greenwich Time reports that this year has already seen more old (older than sixty years) houses torn down than in all of 2003. Not surprisingly, this is a trend that upsets members of the Greenwich Historical Society and many residents, including myself. But, while the process may have accelerated, turning our backs to history is hardly new. It has always puzzled me why Greenwich, settled in 1640, has so few old houses compared with other coastal towns of the same vintage. For whatever reason, Greenwich residents have never seen fit to preserve the old—perhaps because real estate has always been more valuable here? In any event, out with the old, in with the new.
In defense of the busy builders, it is becoming increasingly difficult to sell old houses to young buyers. The tyros not only want new, they demand nine-foot ceilings, bathrooms for each child, kitchens sized to safely land F-18s, and so forth. Yards are passe; it’s the house that matters, and that house better be pretty darn big, Buster, or they ain’t buying it! Trying to fight the market does no good and inevitably causes a lot of economic grief, as a refresher-read of Friedrich Von Hayek’s Road to Serfdom will remind you. It’s still a darn shame, however.
Life in Greenwich
Despite us all living in a permanent construction (and destruction) zone, there are still some good things to enjoy here. I’ve had the pleasure recently of keeping company with someone who grew up in Greenwich but left for boarding school before she ever fully explored our town. Seeing the Secret Garden at Tod’s Point and exploring by bicycle some of the quiet neighborhoods in Riverside and Old Greenwich through her eyes has reminded me of how nice this town can be and why there’s more to it than the mess that is Greenwich Avenue or, worse, the Whole Foods parking lot. As an example, I offer our experience of last week: on a hot humid late afternoon we set out for Tod’s but, on a whim, I detoured to the Island Beach Ferry and purchased two tickets for the last ride out to the island for all of $4.00. The boat didn’t leave until 7:00 so we repaired across the harbor to the Delamar Hotel’s restaurant and dined on fried calamari in a light batter, a delicious pot of coffee and great bread, all served in time to make the boat. We cruised out of the harbor into a cool sea breeze, examined Victor Borge’s house (still undeveloped—is that law suit still going on?) and reached the island with just enough time to disembark and touch our toes in the water before returning. When we did, we discovered a free concert in Roger Baldwin park featuring a so-so band playing covers of 1960’s bands best left undisturbed—the Monkees, for instance—but had a great time dancing, greeting friends, recalling long-lost lyrics and watching a swarm of five-to-eight-year-olds doing a better job at moving to the music than your clumsy correspondent (I speak solely of myself—my friend can dance). The whole evening out: dinner, boat ride, concert, cost twenty dollars and we never left town. I don’t know if that justifies Greenwich housing prices, but it’s a start.
August is not the month to write a real estate column, at least so far as breaking news is concerned. The following comments are vaguely real estate related, I suppose, and must suffice until the town comes back to life .
Best Kept Secret in Town?
While biking around Tod’s the other day I noticed a car sporting a decal depicting the boot that comprises the park. Turns out the sticker is part of a fund raiser for the Greenwich Point Conservancy which seeks to preserve the old buildings at Tod’s like the bell tower. That seems like a good idea and the stickers have, I think, more cachet than the oh-so-plebian Fisher’s Island and Nantucket ACK Euro-ovals, but I was unable to find a means to contact the Conservancy in time for this article’s deadline. If someone will provide that information, I’d be happy to publicize such a good cause. In the meantime, you’ll have to make do with your tired old Martha’s Vineyard beach permit, the proper display etiquette for which is patiently explained in my earlier work, “The New Millionaire’s Handbook”.
Speaking of the Point, I was heading that way on my bicycle recently when I was ridden down by a member of the Greatest Generation. Don’t worry about not stopping, Gramps—once I mopped the blood out of my sunglasses and from my ears my sensory perception was again far better than yours. I do hope this guy heads for Florida when school starts, though.
Meet Me at the Wrecking Ball
An article in Greenwich Time reports that this year has already seen more old (older than sixty years) houses torn down than in all of 2003. Not surprisingly, this is a trend that upsets members of the Greenwich Historical Society and many residents, including myself. But, while the process may have accelerated, turning our backs to history is hardly new. It has always puzzled me why Greenwich, settled in 1640, has so few old houses compared with other coastal towns of the same vintage. For whatever reason, Greenwich residents have never seen fit to preserve the old—perhaps because real estate has always been more valuable here? In any event, out with the old, in with the new.
In defense of the busy builders, it is becoming increasingly difficult to sell old houses to young buyers. The tyros not only want new, they demand nine-foot ceilings, bathrooms for each child, kitchens sized to safely land F-18s, and so forth. Yards are passe; it’s the house that matters, and that house better be pretty darn big, Buster, or they ain’t buying it! Trying to fight the market does no good and inevitably causes a lot of economic grief, as a refresher-read of Friedrich Von Hayek’s Road to Serfdom will remind you. It’s still a darn shame, however.
Life in Greenwich
Despite us all living in a permanent construction (and destruction) zone, there are still some good things to enjoy here. I’ve had the pleasure recently of keeping company with someone who grew up in Greenwich but left for boarding school before she ever fully explored our town. Seeing the Secret Garden at Tod’s Point and exploring by bicycle some of the quiet neighborhoods in Riverside and Old Greenwich through her eyes has reminded me of how nice this town can be and why there’s more to it than the mess that is Greenwich Avenue or, worse, the Whole Foods parking lot. As an example, I offer our experience of last week: on a hot humid late afternoon we set out for Tod’s but, on a whim, I detoured to the Island Beach Ferry and purchased two tickets for the last ride out to the island for all of $4.00. The boat didn’t leave until 7:00 so we repaired across the harbor to the Delamar Hotel’s restaurant and dined on fried calamari in a light batter, a delicious pot of coffee and great bread, all served in time to make the boat. We cruised out of the harbor into a cool sea breeze, examined Victor Borge’s house (still undeveloped—is that law suit still going on?) and reached the island with just enough time to disembark and touch our toes in the water before returning. When we did, we discovered a free concert in Roger Baldwin park featuring a so-so band playing covers of 1960’s bands best left undisturbed—the Monkees, for instance—but had a great time dancing, greeting friends, recalling long-lost lyrics and watching a swarm of five-to-eight-year-olds doing a better job at moving to the music than your clumsy correspondent (I speak solely of myself—my friend can dance). The whole evening out: dinner, boat ride, concert, cost twenty dollars and we never left town. I don’t know if that justifies Greenwich housing prices, but it’s a start.
posted by Chris Fountain at 11:37 AM
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