#Property Of The Hess Estate Which has never been dedicated for public purposes

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scopOphilic_micromessaging_982 - scopOphilic1997 presents a new micro-messaging series: small, subtle, and often unintentional messages we send and receive verbally and non-verbally.

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3 Most Mind-Boggling Housing Turf Wars Ever—and What They Can Teach Us All

inga/iStock

Welcome to turf wars! No, it’s not the latest reality TV show—it’s just a way to describe two (or more) parties insisting that a particular piece of property is their own.

Turf wars are as old as the hills, and the existence of people who could lay claim to them. And they’re at the center of some surprisingly fascinating stories of wealth, greed, and pettiness. It seems that no property is too small to inspire a bitter rivalry—including one about the size of a floor lamp—that could go unresolved for decades.

As proof, check out some of the strangest turf tales below, and the lessons we can all learn from them to avoid the same ugly fate.

1. The smallest land grab ever

In Manhattan on the corner of Christopher Street and 7th Avenue lies a 500-square-inch piece of private property in the shape of a triangle.

The backstory: In 1910, the city demolished a building owned by David Hess to build a subway, but the surveyors missed this small patch in their measurements. Later on, once this error was discovered, the city asked the Hesses to donate it, but the family refused.

For good measure, the family laid a mosaic reading, “Property of the Hess Estate Which Has Never Been Dedicated for Public Purposes.”

Per the New York Times, it’s “one of the smallest pieces left in private ownership as a result of the cutting through a few years ago of the Seventh Avenue extension. It has been assessed on the tax books for $100.”

In 1938 the family sold this parcel to the cigar shop a few feet behind it for $1,000.

The Hess estate

mirza1963/iStock

Lesson learned: Land survey mistakes—or not bothering with a survey at all—can cost you big-time!

“If there’s any question about who owns what, it’s better to be safe than sorry and get a good survey done,” says David Reiss, a law professor at the Center for Urban Business Entrepreneurship at Brooklyn Law School.

On a more human level, we can learn this: “Spite is about as powerful as an immovable object,” says Reiss. “If you try to dislodge it, you will in all likelihood lose.”

2. Keep your water away from mine!

In Minnesota’s Otter Tail County, a seething feud between homeowners on two neighboring bodies of water—West McDonald Lake and Hoffman Lake—has boiled for decades. The source of the fight: Should Hoffman Lake be allowed to flow into West McDonald Lake, currently separated by 2 feet of sandy soil?

Team Hoffman Lake, whose residents are represented by Sheila Eklund, says it simply wants the excess water that’s eroding its shorelines to dissipate into lower-level West McDonald Lake. But the homeowners around Team West McDonald Lake are adamant that their crystal-clear waters not be polluted by Hoffman Lake, which is more of a “swamp” as their representative Todd Yackley described it in the Star Tribune.

In the 1970s, someone (no one seems to know who) blasted a channel through the lakes with dynamite, which was quickly plugged back up. The bitter battle is now being settled by the court, although if the water in Hoffman Lake keeps rising, it might just spill over into West McDonald Lake anyway, making all of this a moot point.

Will these two lakes remain separate for life?

Google Maps

Lesson learned: Land wars aren’t just about land—water counts, too. Rumor has it some people were removing stones between the lakes, a big no-no.

“Homeowners shouldn’t take matters into their own hands, especially when bodies of water are part of the equation,” says Paul Sian, a real estate expert in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. “There are many environmental laws in place to control waterways.”

3. Won’t you not be my neighbor?

In summer 1991, private investor Jeffrey Horvitz—rumored to be worth billions—bought 1.2 acres of private beach on Massachusetts’ famed Gold Coast for around $1.8 million. He apparently placed an extremely high value on his privacy. So when land developer Evan Wile bought the adjoining plot a year later with the hopes of building his dream house there, Horvitz was so irked, he vowed to foil Wile’s attempts to build anything on his property at all.

Horvitz’s first filed a lawsuit questioning the validity of an easement that cut through his own property onto Wile’s land—the developer’s only access to his plot. That tied up Wile’s building plans for five years, but Wile eventually retained his easement, got his construction permit, then, perhaps as a form of revenge, lined up piles of scrap metal and port-a-potties along his property line, right near Horvitz’s swimming pool, infringing on this area’s view and fresh air.

Yet Horvitz continued fighting, and although Wile eventually gave up on building his dream house there, he didn’t throw in the towel. Since both men clearly had axes to grind, money to burn, and no intention of ever backing down, this battle has raged for decades to this very day, earning the moniker in the Boston Globe of “rich versus richer.”

An added irony? Both oceanfront properties have a view of Great Misery Island.

Evan Wile’s empty lot next to Jeffrey Hortvitz’s house

Google Maps

Lesson learned: “This is a classic case of people not backing down from a land fight due to access to plenty of money,” says Sian. “While the land is desirable, at what point does continuing to spend money to fight an ongoing legal battle make sense?”

Sometimes it’s better to cut one’s losses and build a dream home you can actually live in.

The post 3 Most Mind-Boggling Housing Turf Wars Ever—and What They Can Teach Us All appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

from https://www.realtor.com/news/trends/most-mind-boggling-turf-wars-ever/

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By Olivier Guiberteau

15 March 2019

In a city famed for its mighty towers, the symbol of New York City’s rebellious nature can in fact be found at street level – outside a cigar shop in Greenwich Village.

“It’s obviously not the Statue of Liberty, but for New Yorkers, it’s a beloved and treasured piece of the cityscape,” said Andrew Berman, president of the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation.

For New Yorkers, it’s a beloved and treasured piece of the cityscape

In Greenwich Village, the charming brownstone-lined streets don’t always comply with the city’s uniformed grid system: in fact, three roads collide haphazardly outside 110 Seventh Avenue South. At first sight it’s an unremarkable New York intersection. Yellow cabs zip past a Starbucks opposite Village Cigars, with the soaring figure of One World Trade Center further south.

In a city where eyes are naturally drawn upwards, you would do well to notice a small triangular mosaic set into the pavement just 3ft in front of the cigar shop. Composed of faded black-and-white tiles, the triangle measures roughly 2 sq ft and reads: ‘Property of the Hess Estate Which Has Never Been Dedicated For Public Purposes’. A cryptic message that alludes to a story that “has come to embody the struggle for personal identity in this area,” continued Berman.

View image of The Hess Triangle, a symbol of New York City’s defiant nature, can be found outside a cigar shop in Greenwich Village (Credit: Credit: Olivier Guiberteau)

You may also be interested in: • The world’s secret club of explorers • Where the US film industry really began • Is this the quirkiest town in the US?

Greenwich Village has always been a little different: “progressive, forward-thinking and dynamic,” as Berman describes it. By the late 19th Century, the neighbourhood had become one of the most culturally diverse areas in the city. Standing at this spot in 1910, the view would have been vastly different. Seventh Avenue, which today runs the length of Manhattan, ended almost a mile north of Greenwich Village, and without the traffic brought in by the busy thoroughfare, the area felt more sedate and intimate. Where the cryptic triangle now lies stood an apartment block built by Philadelphia native David Hess, who had died three years earlier, in 1907. Maps from the late 1800s mark the building with the name Vorhes, as well as its lot number, 55.

The early 20th Century was a time of dramatic change in New York. The newly opened Penn Station, with its rail tunnel under the Hudson River, brought large numbers of commuters directly into the heart of Manhattan. The decision was taken to extend both Seventh Avenue and the subway line that ran beneath it southward in order to improve commuting connections between Lower Manhattan and Midtown, the city’s two major commercial hubs. A New York Times article from October 1913 reported that 253 structures would be torn down to accommodate the thoroughfare. One of those slated for destruction was the Vorhes building.

New York City had enacted an eminent domain order, a provision within the Fifth Amendment of the US Constitution, in which “the government has the right to take someone’s private property for public purposes,” such as for the construction of roads or schools, Jonathan Houghton, a lawyer at Goldstein Rikon Rikon & Houghton PC, one of the city’s oldest eminent domain firms, explained.

View image of In the early 20th Century, the City of New York enacted an eminent domain order to extend Seventh Avenue into Greenwich Village (Credit: Credit: Olivier Guiberteau)

Angered by what they considered bureaucratic overreach, the Hess family dug its heels in and refused to sell. Over the next few years the family fought valiantly against the order, but “stopping an eminent domain action in New York is extraordinarily difficult,” Houghton said, and by 1913 the Hess family had exhausted all legal avenues. The apartment block was demolished shortly after, with the Seventh Avenue extension eventually passing directly through where lot 55 had once stood.

That should have been the end of the story.

If you peer very closely at city maps from 1916, you might just be able to make out a tiny triangular-shaped speck that remained of lot 55. “One point often overlooked is that there were many small, irregular-sized lots left over after the destruction – but the Hess Triangle was the smallest,” Berman said. The building was of course gone, but a surveying mistake meant that a portion of lot 55 had survived, and was still legally owned by the Hess Estate.

What happened next isn’t entirely clear. The traditional story goes that upon realising the mistake, the city requested that the Hess family donate the tiny plot, assuming that such a small piece of land would have no commercial value. But once again the Hess family refused. The case returned to court, but this time the Hess family prevailed over the City of New York, and their legal right to the small triangle was ensured.

View image of The Hess Family refused to donate the small piece of land that remained of their plot (Credit: Credit: Olivier Guiberteau)

However, an article published in The Philadelphia Evening Ledger on 29 July 1922 contradicts this, reporting that the previous year the City of New York had called upon the Hess Estate to pay the accumulated property taxes on the remaining portion of the lot. But Frank Hess, David Hess’ son, claimed to be unaware any portion of the lot still remained in his family’s name.

The Hess Triangle is emblematic of the little guy taking on City Hall and, in one small way, winning

We do know that on 26 July 1922, the mosaics were installed. A New York Times article the next day reported that the triangle had been ‘assessed on the tax books for $100’, presumably referring to the property's annual tax bill. After visiting the lot, Frank negotiated a lease deal with the cigar shop that included the requirement that the plot be marked as private property. The Hess Triangle was eventually sold to Village Cigars in 1938 for a lofty $1,000 (which, after adjusting for inflation, would equal around $17,500 today), and it has been preserved exactly as it was ever since.

More than 80 years later, the facts of this much-loved tale have begun to blur; some versions wrongly tell of David Hess himself fighting the New York City government. Nevertheless the Hess Triangle has evolved beyond its origin story into a symbol of defiance, which, according Berman, is “emblematic of the little guy taking on City Hall and, in one small way, winning”.

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By Olivier Guiberteau

15 March 2019

In a city famed for its mighty towers, the symbol of New York City’s rebellious nature can in fact be found at street level – outside a cigar shop in Greenwich Village.

“It’s obviously not the Statue of Liberty, but for New Yorkers, it’s a beloved and treasured piece of the cityscape,” said Andrew Berman, president of the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation.

For New Yorkers, it’s a beloved and treasured piece of the cityscape

In Greenwich Village, the charming brownstone-lined streets don’t always comply with the city’s uniformed grid system: in fact, three roads collide haphazardly outside 110 Seventh Avenue South. At first sight it’s an unremarkable New York intersection. Yellow cabs zip past a Starbucks opposite Village Cigars, with the soaring figure of One World Trade Center further south.

In a city where eyes are naturally drawn upwards, you would do well to notice a small triangular mosaic set into the pavement just 3ft in front of the cigar shop. Composed of faded black-and-white tiles, the triangle measures roughly 2 sq ft and reads: ‘Property of the Hess Estate Which Has Never Been Dedicated For Public Purposes’. A cryptic message that alludes to a story that “has come to embody the struggle for personal identity in this area,” continued Berman.

View image of The Hess Triangle, a symbol of New York City’s defiant nature, can be found outside a cigar shop in Greenwich Village (Credit: Credit: Olivier Guiberteau)

You may also be interested in: • The world’s secret club of explorers • Where the US film industry really began • Is this the quirkiest town in the US?

Greenwich Village has always been a little different: “progressive, forward-thinking and dynamic,” as Berman describes it. By the late 19th Century, the neighbourhood had become one of the most culturally diverse areas in the city. Standing at this spot in 1910, the view would have been vastly different. Seventh Avenue, which today runs the length of Manhattan, ended almost a mile north of Greenwich Village, and without the traffic brought in by the busy thoroughfare, the area felt more sedate and intimate. Where the cryptic triangle now lies stood an apartment block built by Philadelphia native David Hess, who had died three years earlier, in 1907. Maps from the late 1800s mark the building with the name Vorhes, as well as its lot number, 55.

The early 20th Century was a time of dramatic change in New York. The newly opened Penn Station, with its rail tunnel under the Hudson River, brought large numbers of commuters directly into the heart of Manhattan. The decision was taken to extend both Seventh Avenue and the subway line that ran beneath it southward in order to improve commuting connections between Lower Manhattan and Midtown, the city’s two major commercial hubs. A New York Times article from October 1913 reported that 253 structures would be torn down to accommodate the thoroughfare. One of those slated for destruction was the Vorhes building.

New York City had enacted an eminent domain order, a provision within the Fifth Amendment of the US Constitution, in which “the government has the right to take someone’s private property for public purposes,” such as for the construction of roads or schools, Jonathan Houghton, a lawyer at Goldstein Rikon Rikon & Houghton PC, one of the city’s oldest eminent domain firms, explained.

View image of In the early 20th Century, the City of New York enacted an eminent domain order to extend Seventh Avenue into Greenwich Village (Credit: Credit: Olivier Guiberteau)

Angered by what they considered bureaucratic overreach, the Hess family dug its heels in and refused to sell. Over the next few years the family fought valiantly against the order, but “stopping an eminent domain action in New York is extraordinarily difficult,” Houghton said, and by 1913 the Hess family had exhausted all legal avenues. The apartment block was demolished shortly after, with the Seventh Avenue extension eventually passing directly through where lot 55 had once stood.

That should have been the end of the story.

If you peer very closely at city maps from 1916, you might just be able to make out a tiny triangular-shaped speck that remained of lot 55. “One point often overlooked is that there were many small, irregular-sized lots left over after the destruction – but the Hess Triangle was the smallest,” Berman said. The building was of course gone, but a surveying mistake meant that a portion of lot 55 had survived, and was still legally owned by the Hess Estate.

What happened next isn’t entirely clear. The traditional story goes that upon realising the mistake, the city requested that the Hess family donate the tiny plot, assuming that such a small piece of land would have no commercial value. But once again the Hess family refused. The case returned to court, but this time the Hess family prevailed over the City of New York, and their legal right to the small triangle was ensured.

View image of The Hess Family refused to donate the small piece of land that remained of their plot (Credit: Credit: Olivier Guiberteau)

However, an article published in The Philadelphia Evening Ledger on 29 July 1922 contradicts this, reporting that the previous year the City of New York had called upon the Hess Estate to pay the accumulated property taxes on the remaining portion of the lot. But Frank Hess, David Hess’ son, claimed to be unaware any portion of the lot still remained in his family’s name.

The Hess Triangle is emblematic of the little guy taking on City Hall and, in one small way, winning

We do know that on 26 July 1922, the mosaics were installed. A New York Times article the next day reported that the triangle had been ‘assessed on the tax books for $100’, presumably referring to the property's annual tax bill. After visiting the lot, Frank negotiated a lease deal with the cigar shop that included the requirement that the plot be marked as private property. The Hess Triangle was eventually sold to Village Cigars in 1938 for a lofty $1,000 (which, after adjusting for inflation, would equal around $17,500 today), and it has been preserved exactly as it was ever since.

More than 80 years later, the facts of this much-loved tale have begun to blur; some versions wrongly tell of David Hess himself fighting the New York City government. Nevertheless the Hess Triangle has evolved beyond its origin story into a symbol of defiance, which, according Berman, is “emblematic of the little guy taking on City Hall and, in one small way, winning”.

Join more than three million BBC Travel fans by liking us on Facebook, or follow us on Twitter and Instagram.

If you liked this story, sign up for the weekly bbc.com features newsletter called "If You Only Read 6 Things This Week". A handpicked selection of stories from BBC Future, Culture, Capital and Travel, delivered to your inbox every Friday.

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