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  The Nation; Museum
  Plan Hits Too Close to Home; Dispute: Space- hungry N.Y. tenement exhibit
  seeks to evict tenement neighbors. 'The irony just smacks you in the face,'
  opponent says.
 
  The Los Angeles Times;
  Los Angeles, Calif.; Apr 18, 2002; JOSH GETLIN;
 
  
 
  (Copyright, The Times Mirror
  Company; Los Angeles Times 2002 Allrights reserved)
 They were
  once joined at the hip in the heart of New York's Lower East Side, two
  identical brick tenements offering cheap, dimly lit apartments to waves of
  immigrants from all over the world.
 
 But they came to play different roles in the community: One was turned into a
  museum celebrating the area's immigrant history. The other is home to 15
  families, as well as a popular Chinese restaurant on the ground floor.
 
 And now, in a move that has some shaking their heads, the museum is attempting
  to evict the people who live and work next door--many of them immigrants--so
  it can expand and accommodate more tourists.
 
 "The irony just smacks you in the face," said Martha Danziger, a
  community leader who opposes the Lower East Side Tenement Museum's bid to take
  over the adjacent building. "They want to create a virtual tenement
  museum in a neighborhood that already has tenements."
 
 Built in 1863, the twin walk-ups at 97 and 99 Orchard St. were fixtures in a
  neighborhood that welcomed Irish, German, Jewish, Italian, Puerto Rican and
  Chinese families. Yet now, as booming property values transform the area, the
  feud between the buildings' owners highlights a battle over the community's
  future--and its place in America's immigrant memory.
 
 This is a street where living history collides with living people.
 
 Opened in 1988, the Tenement Museum is a national landmark that has restored
  turn-of-the-century immigrant apartments to their original conditions and
  draws 90,000 visitors each year. Ruth Abram, the founder, says she wants to
  welcome 200,000 tourists and can only do this by acquiring the building next
  door. She has asked state officials to seize the property through eminent
  domain if a deal cannot be worked out.
 
 But Lou Holzman, whose family members have been living at 99 Orchard St. since
  1910, has no intention of selling the building. Neither does his business
  partner, Peter Liang, who runs the Congee Village restaurant and employs more
  than 50 Chinese and Latino immigrant workers. Both say the use of eminent
  domain to help a small museum would be absurd.
 
 "It's easy to sympathize with the two sides, so the question is, which
  view of the Lower East Side do you embrace?" said sociologist Christopher
  Mele, author of "Selling the Lower East Side." "Is this area a
  gold mine of immigrant history that should be preserved? Or is it a living,
  breathing place filled with new and older immigrants who should be
  protected?"
 
 Eminent Domain Decision Nears
 
 Tensions are rising on both sides as the Empire State Development Corp., New
  York state's economic development agency, nears a decision--expected this
  week--on whether to proceed with the eminent domain. And the dispute is
  playing out against a steady drumbeat of gentrification that is rapidly
  changing the community from a crime- infested slum into an edgy but vibrant
  melting pot of bars, boutiques and restaurants.
 
 The Lower East Side is a study in contrast. While it continues to pack waves
  of new immigrants, mainly Chinese, into tenements, the once-rundown buildings
  of the nearby Bowery are being turned into million-dollar co-ops. The average
  rent at 99 Orchard St. is $1,600 for a 350-square-foot apartment--a price that
  is high but hardly atypical, given Manhattan's tight rental housing market.
 
 Bordered on the north by 14th Street, on the south by Fulton and Franklin
  streets and running west from Broadway to the East River, the neighborhood is
  growing economically, despite the effects of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks.
 
 While Latino groups push for more affordable housing and criticize the trend
  toward higher-priced apartments, young Orthodox Jewish couples have begun
  moving back into the aging, high-rise units that were once occupied by their
  grandparents. On a recent afternoon, the sidewalk shops and restaurants near
  Orchard Street were filled with the aromas of garlic kosher pickles,
  fresh-baked empanadas and pungent Chinese congee.
 
  "This is one of America's most symbolic neighborhoods," said
  historian Suzanne Wasserman, associate director of the Gotham Center at City
  University of New York. "It's constantly reinventing itself, and many
  groups see it as sacred because so many people can trace their roots back to
  this community. Everybody wants a piece of the Lower East Side."
 
 The community is no stranger to controversy. As immigrants poured in during
  the late 19th century, it became America's prototype of a big-city slum.
  Journalist Jacob Riis wrote his powerful newspaper expose "How the Other
  Half Lives" after visiting the squalid area in 1890. Ever since then,
  activists have been drawn to a neighborhood that was the first glimpse of
  America for millions of people who got off the boat at Ellis Island.
 
 Abram said her overriding goal is to promote tolerance for the different kinds
  of people who have lived on Orchard Street--and to use history as a tool to
  better understand the present.
 
 Building Offers Guided Tours
 
 The narrow, six-story building offers guided tours of meticulously restored
  apartments that were occupied by poor immigrant families dating from 1897. The
  museum also sponsors film festivals, walking tours and community forums on
  social issues, including the problems of Garment District workers on the Lower
  East Side and America's historical perceptions of poverty.
 
 "We want people to understand how hard it must have been to come to
  America and live in such small apartments," Abram said. "But I worry
  that a lot of the people who come away moved by the experience of Jewish and
  Italian families leave the museum and then look down on the Chinese and
  Hispanic people who live in the same neighborhood today."
 
 It is this very attitude, however, that infuriates her opponents.
 
 "Here's a museum that wants to promote the history of immigration and
  educate people," Holzman said. "But it proposes to do this evicting
  tenants and throwing 50 immigrants out of work. It makes no sense."
 
 Many New Yorkers fled the Lower East Side in the 1960s and '70s, when the area
  was filthy and dangerous. Yet Holzman is proud that he stayed because his
  family has roots here.
 
 Holzman once ran a jazz and rock recording studio in the building, but he
  recently formed a partnership with Liang to renovate the property. The
  six-story tenement's living quarters, which had been closed for years,
  reopened last fall.
 
 As the owners spruced up 99 Orchard St., Abram was feeling growing pains next
  door. She said she badly needed additional space- -in part to build an
  elevator so disabled visitors could enjoy the museum--and had been attempting
  for some time to buy Holzman's building. But he had no interest in selling.
 
 A nasty feud erupted two years ago, when Abram charged that the renovation
  next door had structurally damaged the foundation of the Tenement Museum. She
  sought help from political allies wherever she could find them.
 
 "The state responded, and we were just so relieved," Abram said,
  noting that the Empire State Development Corp. agreed to consider taking
  Holzman's building through eminent domain.
 
 Although it is highly unusual for a private entity to request such action, it
  is not unheard of.
 
 Once initiated, eminent domain proceedings are rarely overturned, and
  Holzman's main challenge would be over the price to be paid for his property.
  Although the museum once offered to buy his building for $1.3 million, he said
  the full value of a newly renovated 99 Orchard St. is between $7 million and
  $10 million.
 
 'A Matter of Public Need'
 
 Whatever the final price, Abram said, the condemnation is "a matter of
  public need," no different than previous seizures of land for public
  purposes such as freeways and large commercial projects.
 
 Unfortunately, she added, state law had prevented her from speaking publicly
  about the eminent domain proposal until it was announced in December. And by
  then new tenants had moved into Holzman's building. If the building is
  condemned, Abram said, tenants will be helped to find new homes; they will
  also be compensated for moving expenses.
 
 "It was so unfair for this to happen to the people who just got
  here," said Suzy Lease, 25, a waitress who moved in last fall.
 
  Many observers wish that the two sides could have worked out some kind of
  accommodation. While Abram insists she must have 99 Orchard St., others ask
  why the museum couldn't have looked for tenement property elsewhere.
 
 "In almost any other neighborhood, this would be a simple real estate
  dispute," said Hasia Diner, a New York University history professor and
  author of "Lower East Side Memories." "But there is so much
  communal memory in this area. It's become a collision over sacred space."
 [Illustration]
 Caption: PHOTO: Building owner Lou Holzman, left, and business partner Peter
  Liang are fighting the expansion of the next-door museum, at left.;
  PHOTOGRAPHER: JEFF ZELEVANSKY / For The Times; GRAPHIC-MAP: New York, Los
  Angeles Times
 
 Credit: TIMES STAFF WRITER
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 Sub Title: 
          
  [HOME EDITION]
 Edition: 
  
  Record edition
 Start Page: 
        
  A.14
 ISSN: 
        
  04583035
 Dateline: 
        
  NEW YORK
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