To hear his critics tell it, Gregg Singer is the city’s most controversial developer. Detractors call him “Greedy Gregg,” and his latest fight, to build a high-rise dormitory on the East 1oth Street site occupied by the old P.S. 64 building, isn’t making him any more friends.
As Singer battles to start his project, he’s racked up an impressive list of enemies: Manhattan Borough President Scott Stringer suggested that Singer “get the hell out of New York,” and U. S. Rep. Nydia Velazquez threatened to fight him over P.S. 64 in the East Village “for 10 years — whatever it takes.”
His critics say he’s destroyed the school’s landmarked façde without delivering on promises to provide below-market community space, and they’re angry. The developer has received death threats, found protesters picketing outside his home, and been featured on a flyer that read “WANTED: Gregg Singer, Wanted for Cruelty, Gentrification, and Disregard for Human Life.”
An increasingly ugly battle
Still, he continues to press on with his P.S. 64 project, which began when he bought the site for $3.15 million at a 1998 city auction. At the time, it was home to a Puerto Rican community center known as Charas/El Bohio that had leased the property since the school closed in 1977. Community activists battled to overturn the sale, filing a lawsuit that was tossed out of court in 2001.
Now, Singer claims the dorm development off Avenue B is being thwarted for political reasons and that he is fighting unpredictable rule changes in an increasingly ugly battle. In May, he sued Mayor Michael Bloomberg, the Department of Buildings, the Board of Standards and Appeals, the Landmarks Preservation Commission and the City of New York, seeking $100 million in damages.
“They say you can’t fight City Hall, but we’ve been trying to work with City Hall for seven years,” Singer said in an interview with The Real Deal. “We realize that they have no interest in working with us. The whole thing is a bait and switch that clearly reneges on the terms of the initial sale.”
Singer contends that high-level city officials told him they won’t allow any use and development, and want the building back without compensation. The building remains vacant.
“My name is Singer, not Rockefeller; there’s no way that’s going to happen,” said Singer, adding that he might sell for fair market value, which he estimates at nearly 30 times what he bought the building for, or $87 million — $51 million for the site and $36 million for the air rights.
Singer said he is attracted to situations that most investors flee.
“That’s what I do, I look for problem deals,” he said, adding that he sees himself as a value investor. “I’m fourth generation of a real estate family that started taking on loan defaults and foreclosures,” he said. “We’d get ownership then renovate, which got us into solving construction problems; then we took on tenant situations and other matters. P.S. 64 is a political problem, but it will work out over time, maybe three to five years, and then I’ll go onto the next problem. It’s my niche. I love it.”
In July, after a rancorous fight over the building’s landmark status, Singer began removing the terra cotta ornamentation on the building, further infuriating local residents. Graffiti reading “Greg [sic] Singer: A Disease With A Cure” appeared across the building’s 10th Street scaffolding.
City officials are reluctant to discuss Singer’s situation, due to the lawsuit and a confidentiality agreement between the city and the developer.
Legally, Singer can strip away the terra cotta because of an alteration permit he took out three years ago, according to a story in the Village Voice. He told the paper that a move to give the façde landmark status was an invitation to tear it down before the designation was passed.
Landmarks Preservation Commission chair Robert Tierney said he was “deeply disappointed” with the move in a July 27 letter to Singer, the newspaper reported.
“Shame on you,” added U.S. Rep. Nydia Velazquez, during a protest at the school site at the end of July. “This is a guy who is trying to send a message that he is open, that he wants to sit down? His actions speak volumes.”
While Singer said the terra cotta he was removing was decayed, City Councilwoman Rosie Mendez said during the rally that the work was being done out of spite, the Voice reported. “What he’s doing now is spiteful,” she said.
Neither Tierney, Velazquez or Mendez returned calls for comment.
A backroom deal leads to court
Singer is familiar with the neighborhood. “In the 1980s, I brought banks down here and convinced them to make loans when it was called Alphabet City and no one would touch it,” he said.
When Singer bought the P.S. 64 building in 1998, the dilapidated structure carried a deed restriction requiring use as a community facility, he said. Originally, Singer planned to provide low-cost leases for local nonprofit groups, low-income housing for seniors and senior day programs, he said. He also offered space to the former tenant Charas/El Bohio, he says, but they sued instead. After losing in court, they were evicted.
At around the same time, Singer and the local City Councilwoman at the time, Margarita Lopez, began to butt heads, he says. Crowds of demonstrators harassed officials from nonprofit organizations as they toured P.S. 64, and Singer claims that Lopez threatened prospective tenants that if they dealt with him, their city and state funds would be terminated. Lopez didn’t return calls for comment.
“They even went after the people who ran a Montessori school,” Singer said. “I felt so bad for them.”
Singer changed his plans in 2003, after he said city officials told the nonprofits they wouldn’t get any government funding if they took space in the building. He decided to build a 27-story dormitory, a proposal that conformed to the deed restriction but further rankled neighbors.
Citing the city’s notorious lack of dorm space, Singer modeled the project on a funding formula that he said has been successful at over 200 projects nationwide, including several SUNY schools. Singer claims he had financing in place and had six universities vying for the project. “How long am I supposed to wait?” he said to the Voice. “It can’t remain a vacant eyesore forever.”
Singer claims Lopez, the local councilwoman, pressured the Landmarks Preservation Commission to designate the building a landmark, though the commission never showed any interest in its history when the city owned it, he said. Landmarks said that P.S. 64 represented a rare “H-style” specimen by noted school architect C.B.J. Snyder, yet Singer says he found 10 other identical designs by Snyder that are still city-owned.
Singer agreed to save the facade and trim the height to 19 stories, claiming that Landmarks approved the deal and wouldn’t landmark the building. He applied for a permit in October 2004, but the next month, the Department of Buildings sent him a letter outlining several objections that Singer claims he answered to the department’s satisfaction. But the department also wanted to know the identity of the project’s tenants.
Neighborhood opponents argued that the building’s true purpose was long-term residential housing, not dorms, which would violate the zoning. In March 2005, the Buildings Department required Singer to provide a lease or deed from a school before approving the application. But by then, Singer claims city officials had contacted the interested universities and told them to stay away from the project.
Contending that this new pre-permitting restriction had no precedent, Singer claimed that the Certificate of Occupancy regulates the use of a building and provides ample enforcement provisions. The department then demanded that he produce a lease of at least 10 years and provide proof that board members of the nonprofit that ran the dorm be members of educational institutions, he said. Singer turned to the Board of Standards and Appeal to overturn what the developer claims are rules made after the fact.
Singer also claims that a backroom deal during the 2005 mayoral elections pushed him into court. Seeking support for his reelection bid, Mayor Bloomberg offered favors to Lopez, an old foe, in a move to damage his opponent, Fernando Ferrer, by splitting the Latino vote, Singer claims. In return for her support, Bloomberg would stop development at P.S. 64 and give Lopez a plum appointment to a $169,000-a-year job with the Housing Authority, Singer claims. (Lopez got the job.)
On Oct. 18, 2005, days after Lopez publicly endorsed Bloomberg, the Board of Standards and Appeals ruled against Singer by upholding the DOB’s new rules regarding dormitories. Last April, the Landmarks Preservation Commission withdrew its tacit approval of the dorm plan and opened hearings on landmarking P.S. 64, which they did in June, eliminating his use of air rights and his ability to alter the building’s exterior.
“Everyone tells me that this goes right up to the mayor,” Singer said. “I have to act because then I can go to court and say to a judge that this building should not have been landmarked with an existing permit to remove the stone and is not worthy of landmarking,” he said. “If that happens, I will go with what I am legally allowed to do right now, build a 24-story tower.”
Knowing that this may take time, Singer claims he will consider putting in a treatment center for homeless parolees and substance abusers. “One of our partners is the chair of a large nonprofit who gives a lot of money for things like this,” Singer said. “If I can’t do anything else at the site to benefit people, we’ll use internal funding in the meantime instead of keeping the building vacant. This can still be a win-win project.”
The deal should be tied up in court for a few years, Singer said. He believes a judge will force the city to allow the use and occupancy of P.S. 64 because it doesn’t make sense to keep it vacant.