'How a Paleozoic Rock Became a $3 Million Real Estate Prospect' diff viewer (0/1)

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~~How an Ice Age Boulder Became a $3 Million Real Estate Prospect~~	How a Paleozoic Rock Became a $3 Million Real Estate Prospect
2019-09-20 16:03:26 UTC	2019-09-23 21:54:13 UTC (3 days later)
It is one thing to try to sell a 30,000 cubic foot rock in a hot real estate market; it’s another thing entirely to try to sell half of one.	It is one thing to try to sell a 30,000 cubic foot rock in a hot real estate market; it’s another thing entirely to try to sell half of one.
That is precisely what is happening on a stretch in Inwood, the recently rezoned neighborhood in northwest Manhattan. It is there that an investor named Ilan Tavor is trying to sell a vacant lot for close to $3 million — a lot that consists entirely of a 30-foot-tall mound of bedrock.	That is precisely what is happening on a stretch in Inwood, the recently rezoned neighborhood in northwest Manhattan. It is there that an investor named Ilan Tavor is trying to sell a vacant lot for close to $3 million — a lot that consists entirely of a 30-foot-tall mound of bedrock.
That in and of itself might not be so odd — the new zoning allows a potential developer close to 20,000 buildable square feet. But Mr. Tavor’s company, Cooper Development LLC, owns only the southern half of the rock. The northern half is owned by a cooperative apartment building, 60 Cooper Street, which, in a quirk of New York real estate, isn’t actually next to the co-op. Its half is on the other side of Mr. Tavor’s lot.	That in and of itself might not be so odd — the new zoning allows a potential developer close to 20,000 buildable square feet. But Mr. Tavor’s company, Cooper Development LLC, owns only the southern half of the rock. The northern half is owned by a cooperative apartment building, 60 Cooper Street, which, in a quirk of New York real estate, isn’t actually next to the co-op. Its half is on the other side of Mr. Tavor’s lot.
Until recently, the divide of this outcrop has been largely theoretical. In fact, since the fall of 2005, 60 Cooper Street has maintained a sidewalk garden running the length of the rock, stretching across Mr. Tavor’s half (Lot 27) and its own (Lot 25), with minimal input from Mr. Tavor, who purchased his lot in 2004.	Until recently, the divide of this outcrop has been largely theoretical. In fact, since the fall of 2005, 60 Cooper Street has maintained a sidewalk garden running the length of the rock, stretching across Mr. Tavor’s half (Lot 27) and its own (Lot 25), with minimal input from Mr. Tavor, who purchased his lot in 2004.
Things changed in April of this year, when Mr. Tavor put Lot 27 on the market, for $2,990,000. Then, sometime between the evening of June 30 and the morning of July 1, “No Trespassing” signs appeared in the southern part of the garden. Calla lilies had been pulled out of the garden, along with ~~napeta,~~ four o’clocks and liriope. Residents replanted some of the southern flowers on their property, and gardeners stopped gardening on Mr. Tavor’s side. In July, a small fence was erected with an accompanying sign: “This portion of the garden is owned by 60 Cooper Street Co-op,” with an arrow pointing to the right. “This” — pointing to the left — “is not.”	Things changed in April of this year, when Mr. Tavor put Lot 27 on the market, for $2,990,000. Then, sometime between the evening of June 30 and the morning of July 1, “No Trespassing” signs appeared in the southern part of the garden. Calla lilies had been pulled out of the garden, along with nepeta, four o’clocks and liriope. Residents replanted some of the southern flowers on their property, and gardeners stopped gardening on Mr. Tavor’s side. In July, a small fence was erected with an accompanying sign: “This portion of the garden is owned by 60 Cooper Street Co-op,” with an arrow pointing to the right. “This” — pointing to the left — “is not.”
On a sweltering August day, the co-op’s half was flowering and well-tended, while the other side was overgrown, with broad, green leaves spilling onto the sidewalk.	On a sweltering August day, the co-op’s half was flowering and well-tended, while the other side was overgrown, with broad, green leaves spilling onto the sidewalk.
Natasha Bunten, a co-op resident and board member, recalled the day the calla lilies were pulled out. “If the owner was going to be strict and by the book and push us on a technical issue,” she said, “then it was going to become impossible for us to dig up plants that we had invested thousands of dollars in,” because they would have to go on his property to remove them.	Natasha Bunten, a co-op resident and board member, recalled the day the calla lilies were pulled out. “If the owner was going to be strict and by the book and push us on a technical issue,” she said, “then it was going to become impossible for us to dig up plants that we had invested thousands of dollars in,” because they would have to go on his property to remove them.
Why is this happening now, when the garden has been growing for more than a decade? Susan De Vries, a preservationist and the garden manager, who also maintains the rock’s Instagram account and website, can only speculate. “I don’t know what he’s gaining from letting his property deteriorate,” she said, “other than making something that was neatly maintained kind of an eyesore.”	Why is this happening now, when the garden has been growing for more than a decade? Susan De Vries, a preservationist and the garden manager, who also maintains the rock’s Instagram account and website, can only speculate. “I don’t know what he’s gaining from letting his property deteriorate,” she said, “other than making something that was neatly maintained kind of an eyesore.”
One possible explanation is that Mr. Tavor does not want a so-called adverse possession claim from the co-op: under state law, when someone inhabits and improves a neglected property, it might be possible to get the title to it after 10 years. This seems to have forced Mr. Tavor into an unusual situation: in order to sell his side of the rock, he is actively letting it go to seed.	One possible explanation is that Mr. Tavor does not want a so-called adverse possession claim from the co-op: under state law, when someone inhabits and improves a neglected property, it might be possible to get the title to it after 10 years. This seems to have forced Mr. Tavor into an unusual situation: in order to sell his side of the rock, he is actively letting it go to seed.
The Cooper Street Rock is impossible to miss. It looms over the sidewalk between 204th and 207th Streets, a block from the A train, as though it dropped there from outer space. But the Inwood Valley has a rich geologic history. Many neighborhood parks and streets in the city still feature ~~outcrops~~ ~~deposited~~ ~~21,000~~ years ~~ago,~~ ~~when~~ ~~glaciers~~ ~~last~~ ~~reached~~ ~~the~~ ~~area.~~	The Cooper Street Rock is impossible to miss. It looms over the sidewalk between 204th and 207th Streets, a block from the A train, as though it dropped there from outer space. But the Inwood Valley has a rich geologic history. Many neighborhood parks and streets in the city still feature extrusions of Inwood Marble more dating to more than 500 million years old.
Most of these outcrops were dynamited long ago, picking up during the building boom after the A train came to Inwood. But the Cooper Street Rock, and a few others — like one on Broadway and West 216th Street, and Holy Trinity Episcopal Church’s garden on Cumming Street and Seaman Avenue — remain prehistoric relics.	Most of these outcrops were dynamited long ago, picking up during the building boom after the A train came to Inwood. But the Cooper Street Rock, and a few others — like one on Broadway and West 216th Street, and Holy Trinity Episcopal Church’s garden on Cumming Street and Seaman Avenue — remain prehistoric relics.
Its future, however, seems suddenly in doubt.	Its future, however, seems suddenly in doubt.
Country Streets in the City	Country Streets in the City
On the hot August day, a “No Trespassing” sign was still affixed to a tree. Seeing spectators at the rock, a man carrying a McDonald’s bag crossed the street to talk. He was Jim Caulfield, 55, a laborer for the Teamsters who was raised in the neighborhood and attended the Catholic school Good Shepherd. He recalled that the rock was once home to feral cats. “They used to chase each other,” he said. “You ought to see the birds, the robins. I’ve seen birds that shouldn’t even be around this time of season.”	On the hot August day, a “No Trespassing” sign was still affixed to a tree. Seeing spectators at the rock, a man carrying a McDonald’s bag crossed the street to talk. He was Jim Caulfield, 55, a laborer for the Teamsters who was raised in the neighborhood and attended the Catholic school Good Shepherd. He recalled that the rock was once home to feral cats. “They used to chase each other,” he said. “You ought to see the birds, the robins. I’ve seen birds that shouldn’t even be around this time of season.”
Mr. Caulfield said he always walks down Cooper to pass the rock, which reminds him of the show “Little House on the Prairie.” He said he learned about Inwood geology by following tour groups that came to inspect it. “Sometimes I blink and I see the trees that were right here,” he mused, “and all the overgrown bushes that came out, man. It was like a country street, big time.”	Mr. Caulfield said he always walks down Cooper to pass the rock, which reminds him of the show “Little House on the Prairie.” He said he learned about Inwood geology by following tour groups that came to inspect it. “Sometimes I blink and I see the trees that were right here,” he mused, “and all the overgrown bushes that came out, man. It was like a country street, big time.”
Inwood, in fact, was once country streets. By the late 17th century, after the Europeans arrived, most of Upper Manhattan was owned by two families, the Dyckmans and the Nagles. The terrain west of Broadway was ideal for orchards, and the Cooper Street rock was once part of the Dyckman family farm.	Inwood, in fact, was once country streets. By the late 17th century, after the Europeans arrived, most of Upper Manhattan was owned by two families, the Dyckmans and the Nagles. The terrain west of Broadway was ideal for orchards, and the Cooper Street rock was once part of the Dyckman family farm.
The family auctioned off the area that included the rock in 1871. In the mid-1930s, the developer Morris Abe Goodman and his partners built 60 Cooper, then a rental building. The rock occupied two lots. Mr. Goodman wanted the entire rock but was able to purchase only Lot 25. Lot 27, next to 60 Cooper, was owned by a Bronx resident named Margaret Buchanan.	The family auctioned off the area that included the rock in 1871. In the mid-1930s, the developer Morris Abe Goodman and his partners built 60 Cooper, then a rental building. The rock occupied two lots. Mr. Goodman wanted the entire rock but was able to purchase only Lot 25. Lot 27, next to 60 Cooper, was owned by a Bronx resident named Margaret Buchanan.
“My grandfather was a developer and already building three apartment houses in the near vicinity, and I’m sure he wanted to buy both lots, so that he could build another one,” said Mr. Goodman’s grandson Martin Weinstein, a retired lawyer living in Westchester County. “But for some reason he was unable to, so he bought the one lot he could get, which happened to be the one furthest from 60 Cooper. That would at least discourage somebody else from building next to his building.”	“My grandfather was a developer and already building three apartment houses in the near vicinity, and I’m sure he wanted to buy both lots, so that he could build another one,” said Mr. Goodman’s grandson Martin Weinstein, a retired lawyer living in Westchester County. “But for some reason he was unable to, so he bought the one lot he could get, which happened to be the one furthest from 60 Cooper. That would at least discourage somebody else from building next to his building.”
Today, the rock is abutted by 60 Cooper Street, as well as buildings on Seaman Avenue and West 207th Street. Though a developer could demolish half of the rock to build an apartment building, nearby dwellings would have to be monitored by the Department of Buildings. There would undoubtedly be noise and structural concerns from residents, many of whom opposed the rezoning.	Today, the rock is abutted by 60 Cooper Street, as well as buildings on Seaman Avenue and West 207th Street. Though a developer could demolish half of the rock to build an apartment building, nearby dwellings would have to be monitored by the Department of Buildings. There would undoubtedly be noise and structural concerns from residents, many of whom opposed the rezoning.
Alexander’s Garden	Alexander’s Garden
About 50 years after Mr. Weinstein’s grandfather built 60 Cooper, the building was converted to a co-op, and ownership of Lot 25 was transferred to it. Inwood, seen as a leafy, commutable, affordable neighborhood, was increasingly attractive to young families.	About 50 years after Mr. Weinstein’s grandfather built 60 Cooper, the building was converted to a co-op, and ownership of Lot 25 was transferred to it. Inwood, seen as a leafy, commutable, affordable neighborhood, was increasingly attractive to young families.
In 1999, John Buryiak and his wife, Francine Buryiak, bought a three-bedroom, two-bath apartment in 60 Cooper. They often walked their dog past the rock, which was then a blight. “At some point, someone in the building had planted a couple of flowers in there,” said Mr. Buryiak, 53, in a phone interview from Massachusetts, “but whoever did that was gone. When I would walk by, it was basically a dog’s litter box and a dump.”	In 1999, John Buryiak and his wife, Francine Buryiak, bought a three-bedroom, two-bath apartment in 60 Cooper. They often walked their dog past the rock, which was then a blight. “At some point, someone in the building had planted a couple of flowers in there,” said Mr. Buryiak, 53, in a phone interview from Massachusetts, “but whoever did that was gone. When I would walk by, it was basically a dog’s litter box and a dump.”
On Sept. 9, 2004, the Buryiaks had a son, Alexander, and when he was only 4 days old he died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.	On Sept. 9, 2004, the Buryiaks had a son, Alexander, and when he was only 4 days old he died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.
Heartbroken, Mr. Buryiak found himself drawn to the rock. “I saw that this space was in terrible shape,” he said, “and that there was something that I needed to do, to help take my mind off of the pain.” He noticed the wild vegetation choked by garbage at the rock’s border and committed to do something about it. He felt he was channeling his grief. “I started pulling things by myself,” he said, “things like car batteries and the front bumper of a car. There was no retaining wall to stop the dirt from flowing onto the sidewalk. I got a shovel and started pushing the dirt back and turning the soil.”	Heartbroken, Mr. Buryiak found himself drawn to the rock. “I saw that this space was in terrible shape,” he said, “and that there was something that I needed to do, to help take my mind off of the pain.” He noticed the wild vegetation choked by garbage at the rock’s border and committed to do something about it. He felt he was channeling his grief. “I started pulling things by myself,” he said, “things like car batteries and the front bumper of a car. There was no retaining wall to stop the dirt from flowing onto the sidewalk. I got a shovel and started pushing the dirt back and turning the soil.”
The Rock Committee	The Rock Committee
Just a few months before Alexander was born, in the summer of 2004, Lot 27 was owned by a North Carolina woman, Georgia Bertels Galbally. She had inherited it from her mother, Georgina Bertels, who bought it from Margaret Buchanan in 1954. In July 2004 Ms. Galbally sold the lot to a company called Homeside Development for $10,000. That December, according to real estate records, Homeside sold it to Mr. Tavor’s company, Cooper Development, for $350,000.	Just a few months before Alexander was born, in the summer of 2004, Lot 27 was owned by a North Carolina woman, Georgia Bertels Galbally. She had inherited it from her mother, Georgina Bertels, who bought it from Margaret Buchanan in 1954. In July 2004 Ms. Galbally sold the lot to a company called Homeside Development for $10,000. That December, according to real estate records, Homeside sold it to Mr. Tavor’s company, Cooper Development, for $350,000.
According to Mr. Buryiak, around 2005 Mr. Tavor approached 60 Cooper, looking to buy the co-op’s part of the rock for less than the price of a one-bedroom apartment. “For a couple of years,” Mr. Buryiak recalled, “we were discussing at shareholder meetings whether we wanted to sell.” But the consensus was not to. “It would have ruined the character of the block,” said Mr. Buryiak. “Plus, we liked the rock.”	According to Mr. Buryiak, around 2005 Mr. Tavor approached 60 Cooper, looking to buy the co-op’s part of the rock for less than the price of a one-bedroom apartment. “For a couple of years,” Mr. Buryiak recalled, “we were discussing at shareholder meetings whether we wanted to sell.” But the consensus was not to. “It would have ruined the character of the block,” said Mr. Buryiak. “Plus, we liked the rock.”
(Mr. Tavor’s property advisers did not respond to requests for interviews and calls to a number associated with him went unreturned. His attorney Stephen Feder wrote in an email that Mr. Tavor “would rather not get involved with an article or any publicity, so he would rather not discuss the matter.”)	(Mr. Tavor’s property advisers did not respond to requests for interviews and calls to a number associated with him went unreturned. His attorney Stephen Feder wrote in an email that Mr. Tavor “would rather not get involved with an article or any publicity, so he would rather not discuss the matter.”)
As Mr. Buryiak continued to tend the sidewalk garden, other residents became enchanted with the upper portion. An impressive forest, partly visible from the street, actually grows on top of it. “In wintertime it was covered with snow,” said Seth Greenleaf, a theater producer who had a fourth-floor, northern-facing apartment in the building from 2006 to 2014. “It was this gorgeous view, and during the summer there was garbage and tires. I wondered if we could clean it up and make it nicer. That’s when I learned that we had ownership of half of it. That led to the inception of the Rock Committee.”	As Mr. Buryiak continued to tend the sidewalk garden, other residents became enchanted with the upper portion. An impressive forest, partly visible from the street, actually grows on top of it. “In wintertime it was covered with snow,” said Seth Greenleaf, a theater producer who had a fourth-floor, northern-facing apartment in the building from 2006 to 2014. “It was this gorgeous view, and during the summer there was garbage and tires. I wondered if we could clean it up and make it nicer. That’s when I learned that we had ownership of half of it. That led to the inception of the Rock Committee.”
Scrambling up the rock, committee members hauled out garbage and created a vegetable garden and meditation area spanning both lots. “I remember saying we should make the whole area nice,” Mr. Greenleaf recalled, “and maybe in the future we could take possession of it, even if it just stayed a garden.” He was quick to say greed was not his neighbors’ primary aim. “I thought that one day the rock could be worth a lot of money,” he said. “They were just a bunch of nice hippies.”	Scrambling up the rock, committee members hauled out garbage and created a vegetable garden and meditation area spanning both lots. “I remember saying we should make the whole area nice,” Mr. Greenleaf recalled, “and maybe in the future we could take possession of it, even if it just stayed a garden.” He was quick to say greed was not his neighbors’ primary aim. “I thought that one day the rock could be worth a lot of money,” he said. “They were just a bunch of nice hippies.”
To ready the garden for the spring, in the fall of 2005, Mr. Buryiak planted daffodils in the garden. He put up signs in plastic sleeves, with a photo of Alexander, that told the story of the garden. In 2008, Mr. Greenleaf and other neighbors brought out a plaque: “Alexander’s Garden.” They anchored it in cement.	To ready the garden for the spring, in the fall of 2005, Mr. Buryiak planted daffodils in the garden. He put up signs in plastic sleeves, with a photo of Alexander, that told the story of the garden. In 2008, Mr. Greenleaf and other neighbors brought out a plaque: “Alexander’s Garden.” They anchored it in cement.
“Inwood Is Lost”	“Inwood Is Lost”
In the spring of 2018, Mr. Tavor put Lot 27 on the market for $4 million. The marketing brochure for prospective buyers hyped Inwood’s imminent rezoning and called the lot a “great residential development opportunity.” It mentioned proximity to the A train, the Cloisters, Dyckman Farmhouse, the parks, and restaurants. In a stroke of possible irony it noted, “Inwood was a rural section of Manhattan until the early 20th century.” An aerial photo showed the forest growing on top of the rock.	In the spring of 2018, Mr. Tavor put Lot 27 on the market for $4 million. The marketing brochure for prospective buyers hyped Inwood’s imminent rezoning and called the lot a “great residential development opportunity.” It mentioned proximity to the A train, the Cloisters, Dyckman Farmhouse, the parks, and restaurants. In a stroke of possible irony it noted, “Inwood was a rural section of Manhattan until the early 20th century.” An aerial photo showed the forest growing on top of the rock.
According to Ms. Bunten, shortly after the 2018 listing went up, 60 Cooper received an offer of $2.5 million for Lot 25. It was not from Cooper Development, she said. The co-op declined the offer. Ms. Bunten explained the decision in an email: “A sale or development would obviously impact everything from potential structural issues to quality of life, from the market value of those apartments closest to the rock to our relationships with neighbors and the community.”	According to Ms. Bunten, shortly after the 2018 listing went up, 60 Cooper received an offer of $2.5 million for Lot 25. It was not from Cooper Development, she said. The co-op declined the offer. Ms. Bunten explained the decision in an email: “A sale or development would obviously impact everything from potential structural issues to quality of life, from the market value of those apartments closest to the rock to our relationships with neighbors and the community.”
In comments submitted to City Council that spring by a group called Unified Inwood, one 60 Cooper resident, Paul D. Epstein, mentioned this offer, writing that the potential sale and development of the rock “exemplifies the frenzied speculation to come — indeed that has already started in anticipation of rezoning.” He came to a dire conclusion. “When the Rock is gone, Inwood is lost.”	In comments submitted to City Council that spring by a group called Unified Inwood, one 60 Cooper resident, Paul D. Epstein, mentioned this offer, writing that the potential sale and development of the rock “exemplifies the frenzied speculation to come — indeed that has already started in anticipation of rezoning.” He came to a dire conclusion. “When the Rock is gone, Inwood is lost.”
The View From Above	The View From Above
Even with the rezoning, Mr. Tavor was evidently unable to secure a buyer last year. In March of this year a listing for Lot 27 appeared for $3,095,000, and on April 22 a new listing, with a different broker, appeared online for $2,990,000. The current brochure displays a model of an 85-foot-building (the maximum height allowed under the lot’s R7-A zoning) with an entrance on Cooper. The plan shows how an apartment building could be put on the lot, with a portion of rock remaining in back.	Even with the rezoning, Mr. Tavor was evidently unable to secure a buyer last year. In March of this year a listing for Lot 27 appeared for $3,095,000, and on April 22 a new listing, with a different broker, appeared online for $2,990,000. The current brochure displays a model of an 85-foot-building (the maximum height allowed under the lot’s R7-A zoning) with an entrance on Cooper. The plan shows how an apartment building could be put on the lot, with a portion of rock remaining in back.
After examining at the brochure and a map, Jan Cermak, a geotechnical engineer at Mueser Rutledge Consulting Engineers, an engineering firm with offices in Washington and New York, said the project was routine. “It’s a standard rock excavation,” he said in a phone interview. He said the rock would be removed with line drilling and hydraulic hammers.	After examining at the brochure and a map, Jan Cermak, a geotechnical engineer at Mueser Rutledge Consulting Engineers, an engineering firm with offices in Washington and New York, said the project was routine. “It’s a standard rock excavation,” he said in a phone interview. He said the rock would be removed with line drilling and hydraulic hammers.