Like Thoreau, who “travelled a good deal in Concord,” I have a strong sense of place, having been born, raised and worked in New York City.
I have lived in the same 3½ room, sixth floor, rent controlled apartment at 155 E. 73rd St. for 46 years. When I began apartment-hunting soon after law school, this was the first apartment I saw. Located on a lovely street of carriage houses between Lexington and Third avenues, a pre-World War II apartment building—the building and I are about the same age—with high ceilings, a fireplace and splendid view of the dome of Saint Jean Baptiste, my favorite church in the city, I immediately fell in love with the apartment. For a newly-minted lawyer earning $6,000 to live on the fashionable Upper East Side without paying an exorbitant rent, in the wealthiest postal zone in the country, was the closest to heaven I was likely ever to achieve.
