Missing Skyline, the Great Depression Edition

Many planned skyscrapers will never see the light of day due to our current economic malaise (here are a few of 'em), just like a bunch of ambitious projects announced in 1929, before that whole Great Depression thing. Christopher Gray runs through a few of those "ghost buildings of 1929," which gives us yet another excuse to gawk at MetLife's original 100-story rendering for 11 Madison Avenue. It just looks so alien, which is probably how renderings of the Beekman Tower will look in 80 years if it shares a similar fate of not quite rising to expectations. ['Ghost Buildings of 1929']

Also . . .

+ The Times looks at the art of e-mail and wonders if society's reliance on electronic correspondence is helpful or hurtful to real estate negotiations. Silly Times, don't they know that selling apartments via e-mail is already passé? ['The E-Mail Handshake']

+ Though they may be successful Broadway actors, Matt Cavenaugh and his girlfriend Jenny Powers decided to stay put in a $2,500-per-month East Village rental when they eventually shacked up. Christ, even hot-shot young stars of the stage can't afford to buy a place in Manhattan? Incoming wide-eyed college seniors, look away! [Habitats/'Suppers at Midnight']


+ Noticed that glassy and sleek apartment building rising near the Hoyt-Schermorhorn subway stop in Downtown Brooklyn (right)? It may have floor-to-ceiling windows, a gym and a landscaped terrace, but Schermerhorn House isn't another entry into the crowded DoBro condo market. The Polshek Partnership-designed building's 217 small studios are reserved for low-income theatrical workers and the formerly homeless. More info on this interesting project here. [Postings/'New Homes for a Varied Cast']

+ An engaged couple with less than $500,000 to spend on a one-bedroom Manhattan apartment quickly realizes that their budget means doing away with desired amenities such as a doorman, elevator and dishwasher—i.e., the things that any $500,000 apartment anywhere else in the country would come with. They end up in an Upper East Side co-op, looking forward to climbing stairs. [The Hunt/'Toss Out the WIsh List']

+ A Bed-Stuy homeowner takes a sunny view of rummaging through crack pipes, condoms and hypodermic needles ("ouch") to get down to the real history of her 1860s wood-frame Franklin Avenue house. The basement sounds fun: "The prize relic from this era is unquestionably the basement bar — not your father’s rinky-dink liquor stand but a professional, 12-foot-long baroque affair made of plywood and complete with upholstered sides and mirrors." [The City/'The House of Much History']

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