Dear Editor:
Q. How do you know when a Hudson County politician is honest?
A. When he reneges on a quid pro quo.Jersey City’s Municipal Council was lauded with thunderous cheers by the tenants of 111 First Street on October 6 when it unanimously voted to landmark the long-neglected Warehouse District. As representatives for Lloyd Goldman looked on, the One-eleven artists shot themselves in the foot by supporting a resolution that would take control of his property away from their landlord.
The tenants association, led by Bill Rodwell, thought that by backing the Council the city would buy the building for the artists to turn into a non-profit arts center.
Instead, the city failed to negotiate any kind of deal to save the artists community, and the last of the tenants now face eviction.
The city has repeatedly relied on the artists’ advocacy in its on-going battle against the building owners. In 1999 the One-eleven artists were encouraged to voice support for WALDO 2, an ordinance designed to stifle the owners’ redeveloping their properties. After ratification, the owners sued the city and dozens of artists were evicted.
Now the city is using historic landmarking to the same end, and once again the city is facing a lawsuit while 70 artists await a court date to decide their future.
Does the City Council realize the hardship it’s causing with this latest vote? Would it be too much to expect Councilmen Vega and Maldonado, who led the offensive against Goldman, to reciprocate the support they received by speaking on the artists’ behalf at their eviction hearing on November 15? Perhaps the court would be swayed by testimony espousing this community’s value to the much-heralded Powerhouse Arts District. After all, what kind of art district will this be if all the artists leave? If nothing else, these two honest Hudson County politicians should know what losing a studio means to an artist. For some it’s an abrupt end to a career, or having to leave behind major works of art too big to store elsewhere, or sleeping on a friend’s couch until one finds a new home. Since 1996 the Division of City Planning has sponsored numerous zoning ordinances to transform the Warehouse District into Jersey’s answer to SoHo. Along with world-class galleries and quaint bistros, the city promised live/work studios for artists. But in the past eight years galleries closed because of escalating rents and a community of over 200 artists were priced out of their homes and places of business. Either the city planner is a fool who doesn’t know what he’s doing or – worse – he’s been playing us all along to buy time to gentrify the neighborhood. Perhaps it’s time the city think about replacing Bob Cotter.
The significance of the October 6 vote is that by landmarking the entire neighborhood instead of just individual buildings, all properties (including vacant lots) automatically fall under the guidelines of this insanely restrictive zoning code. Property owners don’t have to be informed when an application to landmark a district is being submitted. Imagine if the city tries this in residential areas. One day homeowners in, let’s say, Bergen Hill receive letters notifying them that their neighborhood has just been designated historic. Congratulations! But now severe restrictions are being imposed on how they can renovate their homes. Property taxes will also likely be reassessed. If the city’s plan is to use the Warehouse District as a test case, then homeowners may want to look closely at what happens in this forgotten, little backwater of Jersey City.
What started out a dozen years ago as a promising art scene with a few hip galleries and an active artists community is now a laboratory for gentrification. As the arts leave, property values soar. Think about it: excess supply/negligible demand, yet rents are skyrocketing. This has to be some kind of advance in the way real estate is marketed. Somebody plans to make a killing on this place, but it’s not going to be the artists, who are being led by the nose out of their neighborhood. Or the building owners, who are being harassed by a city government intent on seizing their properties. Or Jersey City taxpayers, who will have to foot the bill for a protracted lawsuit that, if the city wins, may work against the interests of landlords and their tenants. Whoever that somebody is, he should be mindful of Emile Zola’s adage: “Behind every great fortune, there’s a great crime.” Robert Costa
Art in Plain View