Ed Rooney- Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
Sutton Place is akin to being sucked through a worm-hole and spat out in the middle of the Guilded age. You half expect to catch a glimpse of Anne Marie Vanderbilt’s ghost promenading down Sutton Place South arm in arm with a Kissinger. It reeks of old money and it’s antediluvian residents intend on keeping it that way. The co-op boards are archaic in their selectivity and when it comes to financials, don’t even bother going to an open house unless you can show four to six times the price of the apartment in liquid assets.
A few years back a colleague of mine, we’ll call Jeff, was selling one of these Sutton Place palaces to an affluent doctor from Boca Raton, who was purchasing the apartment for his newly engaged daughter and her husband-to-be. After lengthy negotiations contracts were signed and the painstaking process of assembling the complicated board packages begun. After many weeks they were finalized and submitted to the building’s management company for review. A few days later Jeff received the good news that the building’s board requested an interview with the father, daughter and fiancee. As my colleague excitedly explained this to them, the doctors elderly mother fell gravely ill and consequently (and inconveniently) died two weeks later.
Overwhelmed with his deceased mothers affairs and his busy practice in Boca, the doctor explained to Jeff that there was no way he’d be able to fly to NY to meet with the board, and wasn’t it enough that they had all of his personal and financial information?! Furthermore his daughter and future son in-law would be there for the interview and they would be the ones living in the apartment after-all.
When frazzled Jeff explained the mournful situation to the building’s managing agent, Maude, she channeled her inner Ed Rooney and bellowed:“SHOW ME PROOF!” “Surely she’s joking,” Jeff thought. When she assured him that she wasn’t and told him to fax her the death certificate he knew he had a problem. He couldn’t very well ask the grieving doctor to send it. That would surely blow the deal to smithereens. Instead Jeff dismally explained to the doctor that if he couldn’t be part of the board interview, the children would not be able to live in the building.
Fuming from the insensitivity of it all, the doctor demanded that Jeff conference call him in with Maude. Jeff reluctantly agreed (he really had no choice) and the awkward call was made. When Maude came on the line the doctor pled his case and with zero tact Maude howled:“ROLL HER OLD BONES DOWN HERE!” (in a matter of speaking that is).
Naturally, the good doctor was livid, but this was Sutton Place after-all and his only daughters dream apartment. Out of principal he refused to lug his mothers corpse in, or fax her death certificate to Maude. Instead he agreed to an interview two days before the closing. He, his daughter and future son-law charmed the board and were approved shortly there-after.
When closing day came the atmosphere crackled with animosity. Jeff, the attorneys, the doctor, daughter, future son in-law and MAUDE(!) sat in a conference room exchanging checks, dirty looks and signing documents. As soon as the keys were handed to the doctor he stood up and unleashed all of his pent-up rage on dowdy old Maude. At one point Jeff thought he might even hit her but in the end he refrained. What could she do but take it and deservedly so.