By Yvonne Vávra
I once shared my space with a beloved New Yorker. We lived together, even though, technically, my companion had to stay outside. But there he thrived, right outside my window, just a stone’s throw away: a water tower. My guardian, my muse, my friend. It was the first thing I saw each morning and the last before I turned off the lights at night.
One morning, as I left, I noticed a few men gathering around it, looking all important. When I came back later that day, my water tower was gone, like it had never been there at all. I cried for hours, and everyone I knew had to listen to my tragic tale. The tower had such a magnificent presence that its absence seemed almost grotesque. The change was mind-boggling, leaving me feeling out of place in my own home.
The next day, the men returned, hauling fresh lumber. Before sunset, my tower was back, refreshed and standing tall.
I hope the Upper West Siders on Broadway and 76th Street will be as fortunate as I was. When news broke that 2160 Broadway, the four-story building on the northeast corner of 76th Street — once home to a First Republic Bank — was slated for demolition, I couldn’t help but think of the people now dreading the upheaval outside their windows. A demolition, certainly. Construction, without a doubt. And then, perhaps, darkness.
The marketing materials for the sale boasted up to 17,700 feet of unused air rights, which means something tall could rise on the corner — something that would block the views of residents at 2166 Broadway. What is now a view of tree-lined Broadway might soon be replaced with the cold face of brick or glass or worse.
It’s disorienting when familiar views suddenly disappear. What we see every day, consciously or not, becomes the backdrop of our lives. We rely on these views for a sense of consistency. When they vanish, something feels deeply off.
The city experienced the most dramatic version of this with the loss of the Twin Towers.
There was no going back to how we viewed the city before — or the world, for that matter. The picture was shattered. But even smaller disruptions to the familiar landscape can feel unsettling. Ever since parts of the El Dorado towers on Central Park West were swallowed by scaffolding, I try not to look. It rips me out of my visual comfort zone. Changes like these feel like the neighborhood got bangs. It’s confusing to the eyes, but the best way to deal with it is by giving it time.
Last week, even time started to mess with our sense of place. When the time and temperature display screen on the Apple Bank building overlooking Verdi Square was removed and loaded onto a truck bound for an unknown destination, a cry went up across the Upper West Side. Even though West Side Rag quickly reported that all was well and a new display would be installed soon, readers expressed how sad they felt that the clock had vanished from their lives. One reader shared that they immediately felt lonely when the display went dark. Another swore that no watch or weather app could ever “take the place of the first view of the time and temperature when I wake up in the morning.”
Change is tough, especially when it hits close to home. Whatever is outside our windows, lives with us inside. It’s part of our intimate space — a part we have no control over. I have no say over the guy who comes out onto a roof in my view almost every day at the same time. He stands there for about half an hour, smoking something and pouring his thoughts into the sky. He has no idea, but his habit gives me a sense of stability and comfort.
My friend Gordon, who lives in Chelsea and once had an uplifting view of the Empire State Building, had to watch as a high-rise grew right in front of it. Day by day, the intruder climbed a little higher, and with it, Gordon’s stress levels. Oh, and his frustration, resentment, sadness, and sense of powerlessness, too. Good thing he’s a therapist.
By the time the Empire’s spire disappeared, he was almost over it.
Whaddaya gonna do, huh? Change and loss are part of the deal with the city. Being New Yorkers, we experience it so often that we’re trained to accept and get over almost everything. Like the city, we beef a bit, then keep going, finding the chances in the changes. Even a high-rise in front of your nose might offer a window to look into and see something inspiring. Even a missing time display might free us from the pressures of a clock-watching world. And even a vanished water tower… nah. Fuhgettaboutit. New York tough stops right there.
* * *
Yvonne Vávra is a magazine writer and author of the German book 111 Gründe New York zu lieben (111 Reasons to Love New York). Born a Berliner but an aspiring Upper West Sider since the 1990s (thanks, Nora Ephron), she came to New York in 2010 and seven years later made her Upper West Side dreams come true. She’s been obsessively walking the neighborhood ever since.
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She is a born German? With a name like that? Interesting. I am too, but from the Dresden area and came to NYC in 1961. Have been a native New Yorker since I moved to the Upper West Side in December 1961. Live it here!
“She is a born German? With a name like that?”
Things Germans probably shouldn’t be saying in 2025.
Live It Here!
You are not a native New Yorker if you were born elsewhere.
Correction: You’re a native New Yorker the minute you move here.
Nonsense.
Snap…!
If we only applied that same standard for the first settlers of the US. Only the indigenous can claim that right.
You are a native of the land where you were born. Please look up the meaning of the word “native”.
I was born on Long island. Native NYer here.
What do names have to do with where you are born. I have an Irish first name and an Italian last name and I too was born in Deutschland. 🤭
A beautiful piece. Thank you!
I lived for a few years in my apartment in the 14th floor with a sliver of Hudson River view which I would look at every day until an apartment building was built in front of it along the line of Trump buildings on Riverside Blvd. When they reached enough floor height to lose the view, I cried for days. Lived there for many more years after that and thru Covid-19 and eventually forgot about it but it was painful at first.
Remember the big banner “Trump Place Is Choking Us Dot Com” high up on a venerable old upper west side building, viewable from the West Side Highway? As time went by, the banner itself was disappeared behind the ugly Trump high rises.
We feel your pain.
Boy, I love this article. It rings so true. I go away for one month and come back to see a store has closed and another one has opened. I go away and a beautiful building has been turned into a shelter (I’m in favor of shelters, don’t get me wrong…) . I go away and come back to see that there’s now a huge 5G antenna right in front of my window. The pace of change in this city is truly unsettling. But there’s nothing we can do about it. Maybe go somewhere else, but who wants to leave New York.
It’s more like New York left you. I look at the pictures of New York in the late ’70s through early ’80s that photographer posts wistfully missing those days when I lived on W. 78th between Columbus and Amsterdam. I feel privileged to have been able to experience the tail end of the golden age of 20th century NYC when the lower, middle and upper classes existed on the UWS. I truly miss living on the UWS during that time but it’s gone and I’ve gone too. While in a general way it looks somewhat the same, it has in fact turned into another “gated community” full of exorbitantly priced apartments and banal businesses and restaurants. Lost views is only a small part of what’s been lost on the UWS.
Many people want to leave New York
Things on the UWS were about to change in the mid 1970s when a Burger King came to 96th st. I would rarely pass that street during my walks along Broadway. Eventually all the taxpayer buildings started disappearing along with the mom and pop stores therein.
Who remembers, haberdashery stores, notion stores, housewares, millinery stores?
High rises started appearing as if overnight. My city was being taken over by glass monstrosities.
All the local movie theaters were gone. All the beautiful architecture gone.
It’s been years since I’ve revisited my old UWS and now with the crime, not sure if and when I’ll ever come back, sadly.
There are fewer new buildings here than almost anywhere else in the city (and not coincidentally, rents are higher in older buildings here than almost anywhere else too). Our best architecture lives on, so enjoy it, and fight to make sure new construction happens but still fits in well!
Jean, the Burger King is long gone! Do come back for a visit. Riverside Park and Central Park are glorious and soon the Westside Community Garden at w 90th street will have weeks of its annual tulip festival to share with us. The incredible museums are still here, and there are things like the New York Ferry and more to explore and enjoy.
Cutting yourself off from joy because of irrational fear is a terrible thing to do to yourself. Visit the UWS! You’ll be fine! And maybe you’ll make some new warm memories!
While there is crime on the Upper West Side, the old days were actually much worse. Come on back for a visit. There are still some signs of the neighborhood you remember.
What about the block on Broadway in the low 80s that had both a McDonald’s and a Burger King?
Living and working on the Upper West Side for more than 33 years I’ve had seen my share of places and treasures come and go. One spot in particular is the bench area in the middle of the Broadway Mall on the north side of 81st and B’way. I would sit in the setting sun every day after work with my dog Cody. I would decompress meditate to the sounds of tragic and people and birds chirping. Then one day they took down the 3 story building on the corner, where beloved Shakespeare books and then Essentials once reigned. That sunny spot, where the sun warmed and caressed my face disappeared forever… oh how I long for that time in the days ending sunshine. I miss my sunny spot.
But at least the bench is still there and the sun does reach it, perhaps at a different time. I regret the church that was on the southeast corner of West End and 81st street. My kids and I watched its demise until we no longer could. But the pulpit did find a home at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
New Yorkers have learned to stifle themselves and allowed the billionaires and developers to crash through their City. They been silent as they’ve been lectured by the developer class about how developers are the beneficent class that has been treated badly their entire existence. The lies and the cons have left us with little of our shared history and given us more of the unhoused on our streets and units whose rents sour while heat and hot water are unpredictable. But we keep on voting to allow our shared history to be bulldozed. Housing, they cry as they smash it down but it’s housing for the billionaires and money in their very deep pockets.
Air and light mean something. Views are iconic and they mean something. Change is not always good.
“Developers” have ruined the city and corrupt politicians have enabled them.
For anyone under 50, “NIMBYs” have ruined the city and corrupt politicians have enabled them.
Wonderful article. Hits the heart. I was just discussing the changes with my 20 year old who is noticing changes. I told her that it only gets tougher as we age on this beautiful neighborhood and city. Thank you Yvonne Vávra.🙏
What a thoughtful and beautiful piece! My mother grew up on upper Riverside Drive and 160th and all throughout my childhood and young adulthood, my great grandparents and my grandmother lived there. They were on the third floor and had a gorgeous view of the George Washington bridge and the palisades. For years, we drove in from LI most Sundays and for big events (Passover, the day JFK was killed). My brother lived there for a while but after our grandma Sal died, he rented it out. When he died in 2003, my mother decided to sell it. She didn’t have the heart to go see the place, but she described the view to the listing broker and was shocked when she told my mom “you can’t see the bridge, the trees are too tall!” I related to your story, even in my memories!
As an UWSer for almost 40 years now I have learned it is important not all of us to embrace the changes that are forced upon us in our neighborhoods and in our lives. It’s called progress and we must move forward to be happy!
Too true, but nostalgia plays a big part in our lives. We can’t turn back time, but we can lament the loss of what made our community a desirable and attractive place to live. Gentrification is a pejorative in most cases.
I had a friend named F. Water Towers.
As a photographer who has photographed NYC water towers for over 10 years, I’m appalled that we are losing these iconic views for the nondescript unaffordable housing for most New Yorkers.
In Paris, nothing is built taller than the Eiffel Tower. Also, developers can’t buy air rights which should be a law in New York.
Look at my NYC water towers on my website and you will see what New Yorkers are losing!
If Manhattan isn’t a place to build tall when there’s a housing shortage, where is?
Every New Year’s I gather friends so that we can see the fireworks in the Park from my 10th floor livingroom apt on Broadway and 76th st. We see it over the small Republic Bank building. I guess that view won’t be there anymore if it’s a “tall’ thin building. That will be a loss for us as we enjoy it so much!
I often feel sympathy for people who are about to lose their apartment views due to yet another highrise “luxury” building. Maybe they chose it because of the view or just the access to fresh air. And because some developer has to squeeze the last cent out of the land…
A lot of comments about fresh air too much
bldg etc. Isn’t anyone worried about over-
development creating too many people in the
already very crowded city??? On a nice day
everyone is out with barely enough space
on sidewalks. Stop. building should be
the motto of the day.
I’d rather lose my views than be homeless. New York is tragically unaffordable due to our refusal to build new housing, and you see it every day on the streets.
As an architect, I have had to deal with this a few times via my clients. It’s very jarring. Even moving can alter your visual experience. After 9/11, I could not look at the city as arriving from a bus via NJTransit. It was just way too much (heightened by the fact of being a 9/11 survivor).
My heart was broken when Brooklyn’s Maspeth Holders were demolished in 2001.
2025 I still miss the twins.
Such a lovely, heartfelt article! Thank you. These changes are jarring – especially when a developer is involved. Let’s all be sure to support the red church on Amsterdam/86th which houses the Center at West Park. It would be a horrible shame if they are able to get rid of the landmarking and build another glass & chrome eyesore.
And I laughed out loud at the brilliant line “Changes like these feel like the neighborhood got bangs.”
I really enjoyed this piece!
As a 70-year-old born & raised Long Islander who frequented our City as often as possible, I, too, developed a love for water towers that lingers to this very day. And, let me tell you, New York Tough stays with you, long after one has retired to the mountains of Tennessee. Sure, I hate change. And I want my water towers back, as now I gaze downslope at “my river”. But I am tough….as tough as a sturdy old water tower. Absolutely LOVED this article!
A beautiful description of how change can feel sometimes. We absolutely need to build the new housing we’re desperately missing, but there’s always a tinge of nostalgia that comes with it. I’m sure people mourned what was there before the Empire State Building or Rock Center too.