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    Existing-Home Sales Declined in April, With a Tight Supply and Record Prices.

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    Soaring prices and a shortage of available homes are starting to hold back the blazing U.S. housing market.Sales of existing homes fell 2.7 percent in April, the National Association of Realtors said Friday. It was the third straight monthly decline after a surge in transactions earlier in the pandemic.Mortgage rates have crept up since the start of the year, which has likely put a crimp in demand. But the main force holding back sales isn’t a lack of willing buyers. It is a lack of homes for them to buy — especially at prices they can afford.The median sales price of an existing home was $341,600 in April, up 19.1 percent from a year earlier. Both the price and the increase were record highs. The number of homes on the market rose in April but was down 20.5 percent from a year ago and remained close to a record low.As a result, competition for homes can be intense. The Realtors said that 88 percent of homes sold in April were on the market for less than a month. A quarter of buyers paid cash. At Redfin, the online brokerage, half of all homes sold in recent weeks have gone for more than their asking price, up from about a quarter a year ago.“Even if demand comes down, supply is the issue, and until we see more homes come on the market, that’s going to limit sales,” said Glenn Kelman, Redfin’s chief executive. “When you meet a new buyer you almost say, ‘Good luck.’”The increase in remote work during the pandemic has led to an increase in demand for homes, particularly outside of city centers. That demand has remained as the economy has begun to reopen, even as millions of millennials are reaching the age when Americans have historically looked to buy homes. But the combination of high prices and limited inventories is making it especially hard for young people to get into the housing market.“First-time buyers in particular are having trouble securing that first home for a multitude of reasons, including not enough affordable properties, competition with cash buyers and properties leaving the market at such a rapid pace,” Lawrence Yun, chief economist for the National Association of Realtors, said in a statement. More

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    Seeing the Real Faces of Silicon Valley

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    Mary Beth Meehan and Mary Beth Meehan is an independent photographer and writer. Fred Turner is a professor of communication at Stanford University.The workers of Silicon Valley rarely look like the men idealized in its lore. They are sometimes heavier, sometimes older, often female, often darker skinned. Many migrated from elsewhere. And most earn far less than Mark Zuckerberg or Tim Cook. More

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    Federal Aid to Renters Moves Slowly, Leaving Many at Risk

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    Congress allocated $25 billion in December and another $21 billion in March to help people who fell behind on rent during the pandemic. Little has reached landlords or tenants.WASHINGTON — Four months after Congress approved tens of billions of dollars in emergency rental aid, only a small portion has reached landlords and tenants, and in many places it is impossible even to file an application.The program requires hundreds of state and local governments to devise and carry out their own plans, and some have been slow to begin. But the pace is hindered mostly by the sheer complexity of the task: starting a huge pop-up program that reaches millions of tenants, verifies their debts and wins over landlords whose interests are not always the same as their renters’.The money at stake is vast. Congress approved $25 billion in December and added more than $20 billion in March. The sum the federal government now has for emergency rental aid, $46.5 billion, rivals the annual budget of the Department of Housing and Urban Development.Experts say careful preparation may improve results; it takes time to find the neediest tenants and ensure payment accuracy. But with 1 in 7 renters reporting that they are behind on payments, the longer it takes to distribute the money, the more landlords suffer destabilizing losses, and tenants risk eviction.Millions of tenants are protected from eviction only by a tenuous federal moratorium that faces multiple court challenges, omits many households and is scheduled to expire in June.“I’m impressed with the amount of work that unsung public servants are doing to set up these programs, but it is problematic that more money isn’t getting out the door,” said Ingrid Gould Ellen, a professor at New York University who is studying the effort. “There are downstream effects if small landlords can’t keep up their buildings, and you want to reach families when they first hit a crisis so their problems don’t compound.”Estimates of unpaid rents vary greatly, from $8 billion to $53 billion, with the sums that Congress has approved at the high end of the range.The situation illustrates the patchwork nature of the American safety net. Food, cash, health care and other types of aid flow through separate programs. Each has its own mix of federal, state and local control, leading to great geographic variation.While some pandemic aid has flowed through established programs, the rental help is both decentralized and new, making the variation especially pronounced.While Charleston has started a local rent assistance program, South Carolina has $272 million to spend and has not begun taking applications.Cameron Pollack for The New York TimesAmong those seeking help is Saundra Broughton, 48, a logistics worker outside Charleston, S.C., who considered herself safely middle class in the fall, when she rented an apartment with a fitness center and saltwater pool. To her shock, she was soon laid off; after her jobless benefits were delayed, she received an eviction notice.“I’ve always worked and taken care of myself,” she said. “I’ve never been on public assistance.”A judge gave Ms. Broughton 10 days to leave her apartment. Only a last-minute call to legal aid brought word of the federal moratorium, which requires tenants to apply. She rushed to the library to print the form with 24 hours to spare. “But I still owe the money,” she said, about $4,600 and counting.If Ms. Broughton lived in nearby Berkeley County, she could have sought help as early as March 29. In Charleston County, a few miles away, she could have applied on April 12. But as a resident of Dorchester County, she must apply through the state, which has $272 million in federal money but is not yet taking applications.“Why are they holding the money?” she said. “I have thousands of dollars of debt and could be kicked out at any moment. It’s a very frightening feeling.”The huge aid measures passed during the early stages of the pandemic did not include specific provisions to help renters, though they did give most households cash. But hundreds of state and local governments started programs with discretionary money from the CARES Act, passed in March 2020. These efforts disbursed $4.5 billion in what amounted to a practice run for the effort now underway with 10 times the money.Lessons cited include the need to reach out to the poorest tenants to let them know aid is available. Technology often posed barriers: Renters had to apply online, and many lacked computers or internet access.The demand for documentation also thwarted aid, as many people without proof of leases or lost income could not finish applications. Some landlords declined to participate, perhaps preferring to seek new tenants.Despite rising need, programs in Florida and New York, financed by the CARES Act, returned tens of millions of unspent dollars to the states. By the time Congress passed the new program in December, nearly 1 renter household in 5 reported being behind on payments.The national effort, the Emergency Rental Assistance Program, is run by the Treasury Department. It allocates money to states and also to cities and counties with populations of at least 200,000 that want to run their own programs. About 110 cities and 227 counties have chosen to do so.The program offers up to 12 months of rent and utilities to low-income tenants economically harmed by the pandemic, with priority on households with less than half the area’s median income — typically about $34,000 a year. Federal law does not deny the aid to undocumented immigrants, though a few states and counties do.Modern assistance seems to demand a mix of Jacob Riis and Bill Gates — outreach to the marginalized and help with software. Progress slowed for a month when the Biden administration canceled guidance issued under President Donald J. Trump and developed rules that require less documentation.Other reasons for slow starts vary. Progressive state legislators in New York spent months debating the best way to protect the neediest tenants. Conservatives legislators in South Carolina were less focused on the issue. But the result was largely the same: Neither legislature passed its program until April, and neither state is yet accepting applications.“I just don’t know why there hasn’t been more of a sense of urgency,” said Sue Berkowitz, the director of the South Carolina Appleseed Legal Justice Center. “We’ve been hearing nonstop from people worried about eviction.”There is no complete data on how many tenants have been helped. But of the $17.6 billion awarded to state governments, 20 percent is going to states not yet taking applications, though some local programs in those states are. Florida (which has $871 million), Illinois ($566 million) and North Carolina ($547 million) are among those that have yet to start.“The pace is slow,” said Greg Brown of the National Apartment Association, who emphasized that landlords have mortgages, taxes and maintenance to pay.In a recent talk at the Brookings Institution, Erika Poethig, a housing expert on the White House Domestic Policy Council, praised the “unprecedented amount of rental assistance” and said “the federal government only has so much ability” to encourage faster action.Accepting applications is only the beginning. With $1.5 billion to spend, California has attracted 150,000 requests for help. But of the $355 million requested, only $20 million has been approved and $1 million paid.Texas, with $1.3 billion to spend, started quickly, but the company it hired to run the program had software failures and staffing shortages. A committee in the state House of Representatives found that after 45 days, the program had paid just 250 households.By contrast, a program jointly run by the city of Houston and Harris County had spent about a quarter of its money and assisted nearly 10,000 households.Not everyone is troubled by the pace. “Getting the money out fast isn’t necessarily the goal here, especially when we focus on making sure the money reaches the most vulnerable people,” said Diane Yentel, the director of the National Low Income Housing Coalition.Given the challenge, she said, “I think it’s going OK.”She points toward a program in Santa Clara County, Calif., that won praise for its outreach last year. Many of the people it served spoke little English or lacked formal leases to submit. Now, with $36 million to spend under the new program, it opted for weeks of additional planning to train 50 nonprofit groups to find the poorest households“Giving away money is actually quite hard,” said Jen Loving, who runs Destination: Home, a housing group leading the campaign. “All the money in the world isn’t going matter if it doesn’t get to the people who need it.”In Charleston, S.C., housing became a subject of concern after a 2018 study found the area had the country’s highest eviction rate. Charleston County ran three rounds of rental relief with CARES Act money, and the state ran two.The second state program, started with $25 million in February, drew so many applications that it closed in six days. But South Carolina is still processing those requests as it decides how to distribute the new federal funds.Antonette Worke is among the applicants awaiting an answer. She moved to Charleston from Denver last year, drawn by cheaper rents, warmer weather and a job offer. But the job fell through, and her landlord filed for eviction.Ms. Worke, who has kidney and liver disease, is temporarily protected by the federal eviction moratorium. But it does not cover tenants whose leases expire, as hers will at the end of next month. Her landlord said he would force her to move, even if the state paid the $5,000 in overdue rent.Ms. Worke is temporarily protected by a federal moratorium on evictions, but her lease is set to expire at the end of the month.Nora Williams for The New York TimesStill, she said the help was important: A clean slate would make it easier to rent a new apartment and relieve her of an impossible debt. “I’m stressing over it to the point where I’ve made myself sicker,” she said.Moving faster than the state, Charleston County started its $12 million program two weeks ago, and workers have taken computers to farmers’ markets, community centers and a mall parking lot. Christine DuRant, a deputy county administrator, said the aid was needed to prevent foreclosures that could reduce the housing stock. But critics would pounce if the program sent payments to people who do not qualify, she said: “We will be audited,” possibly three times.Latoya Green is caught where the desire for speed and accounting collide. A clerk who lost hours in the pandemic, she owes $3,700 in rent and utilities and is protected by the eviction moratorium only until her lease expires next month.She applied for help on the day the county program started but has not completed the application. She said she is unsettled by the emails requesting her lease, which she lacks, and proof of lost income.Still, Ms. Green does not criticize Charleston County officials. “I think they’re trying their best,” she said. “A lot of people run scams.”With time running short, she added: “I just hope and pray to God they’ll be able to assist me.” More

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    What Will Happen to All the Empty Office Buildings and Hotels?

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    Commercial real estate has been hit hard by the pandemic, but there are plans to convert some of the now empty spaces into apartment buildings. Dark windows. Quiet lobbies. Hushed halls.Many of New York’s hotels and office buildings have been empty for more than a year now as the pandemic continues to keep tourists and workers out of the city.And some of those properties may never recover. An effort is afoot to take these eerily empty commercial structures and convert them to housing of some kind and perhaps other uses as well, potentially spurring a number of building conversions not seen since the crash of the late-1980s.But in the development world, top-to-bottom makeovers can take years, and a robust recovery could make landlords think twice about reinventions. Space and safety requirements could also complicate some conversions, real estate executives say.Still, with some companies allowing employees to permanently work from home, and officials bracing for tourism to not fully recover for years, there is support across the city for breathing new life into struggling buildings.“Covid has expedited the ultimate repurposings,” said Nathan Berman, the managing principal of Metroloft Management, a developer in the process of buying two large office buildings in Lower Manhattan that have been hammered by the pandemic.These shell-of-their-former-selves buildings, which Mr. Berman declined to name while negotiations continue, would become market-rate rentals. “They are perfect targets,” he said.From corporate high-rises in the financial district to boutique lodgings near Central Park to mid-market accommodations in Midtown, real estate players are redeveloping or canvassing dozens of sites, according to those involved.So far, most of the attention has been trained on Manhattan, home to the city’s largest business and tourism districts, and where the pandemic has dealt the harshest blows. But hotels in Brooklyn, where prices for buildings are generally lower, are also getting a look.The conversions seem to fall into three categories: offices to housing, hotels to housing, and hotels turning into offices, though not for long stays but short-term sessions.“It’s definitely all happening, for sure,” said Eric Anton, an agent with the firm Marcus and Millichap who specializes in selling buildings. Of the seven hotels in New York he currently represents, three will likely become senior housing, one will become market-rate apartments, and the balance will stay hotels.“But a lot of the conversations revolve around whether the conversions can happen efficiently,” Mr. Anton said.An alcove studio at 20 Broad Street, which was an office building until 2018. Conversions of office buildings often result in unusual layouts with long halls and windowless sleeping areas.Katherine Marks for The New York TimesBoardrooms to BedroomsSome buildings, of course, can be converted more easily than others.Decades ago, prewar office buildings were all the rage for reinvention. In the financial district, which became hollowed out after insurance companies and investment banks moved uptown, developers grabbed up limestone and granite former headquarters and sliced them up into apartments.But there aren’t many of those grand old buildings left, at least downtown, forcing developers to consider newer structures, like glassy mid-20th-century office towers, which in some cases have become obsolete as fancier offerings have risen around them.In March, more than 17 percent of Manhattan’s office space was vacant or soon to be, with a slightly higher rate downtown, according to CBRE, the real estate firm. Few of those spaces have been so empty since the early 1990s.Though many landlords are long-term investors who don’t panic in tumultuous times, the ghost-town vibe may be at least causing jitters. Since the pandemic began a year ago, city projections suggest that Manhattan office towers are worth 25 percent less.Mr. Berman, who for years converted mostly prewar properties, like 67 Wall Street, 84 William Street and 20 Exchange Place, has lately gone Modernist himself. The two office buildings he is now in talks to buy went up in the postwar period, he said, adding that they are also of the “Class B” variety, industry-speak for “a bit drab.”“It’s too expensive to upgrade those kinds of buildings, so a change of use is really the optimum path,” said Mr. Berman, adding that they also aren’t usually landmarks, which reduces the number of necessary permits.But how easily can structures where people once pecked at computers and huddled in conference rooms become places to live?John Cetra, a co-founder of the firm CetraRuddy Architecture, on the roof of 20 Broad Street, a 1950s office building he helped convert to luxury housing.Katherine Marks for The New York TimesIt really depends, said the architect John Cetra, a co-founder of the firm CetraRuddy, which has made bedrooms out of boardrooms at several Manhattan addresses.One major factor is the distance between the facade and the elevators, otherwise known as a “lease span.” When it comes to creating housing, the smaller the lease span, the better, according to Mr. Cetra.A span of 30 feet is ideal, said Mr. Cetra, as he recently led a tour of 20 Broad Street, a 1957 former office building next to the New York Stock Exchange that in 2018 swapped its stockbrokers for residents. (Its thick-doored bank vault remains in the basement though, and now serves as a lounge.)At 20 Broad, a CetraRuddy project, the lease span measures 45 feet, which is close to the outer limit of what can work, he explained, adding that anything greater “just becomes too awkward,” because apartments would likely have to have large windowless spaces and other hard-to-adapt spaces.The facade of 20 Broad Street in the financial district, which was once an office building and is now a luxury apartment building. The next wave of conversions is expected to target similar structures.Katherine Marks for The New York TimesBut recently constructed office buildings often have lease spans of 50 feet or more, Mr. Cetra said, suggesting that laying out conventional apartments in them could be difficult.Focusing on the floor plans at 20 Broad, which has 533 rental units across 30 stories, then, can be instructive. Reaching the living room in No. 721, an alcove studio on the seventh floor, for instance, requires navigating a long gangplank-like hall. But what could have been a void between the front door and a couch has been filled creatively — with a closet, a washer and dryer and the alcove, which can fit a bed but has no windows. Also squeezed in, along one wall, in what might be called a half-galley-style, is a kitchen. Mr. Cetra is the first to admit that the quirks, which in No. 721 includes an off-center window, are unavoidable when tackling a commercial conversion. But on the plus side, no two units seem the same. “You’re not doing cookie-cutter apartments,” he said. “You get so much more variety.”The studio, with about 500 square feet, is listed at $3,760 per month. But to help fill the building, which is grappling with a 40 percent Covid-related vacancy rate, its landlord, Metroloft, is dangling four months of free rent, so renters would essentially pay $2,600 a month.The Holiday Inn FiDi, a large hotel in Lower Manhattan, is now in foreclosure after defaulting on its loans. Some developers are pushing to convert struggling hotels like this one to affordable housing.Katherine Marks for The New York TimesNo More Room ServiceIt’s a hard time to be a hotelier. Facing a drought of tourists and business travelers, about 200 of the city’s 700 hotels have closed since Covid hit, and many of those closures are expected to be permanent, especially as debts mount.There are also many soured loans. Since fall, hotels in the New York City area have led the country in terms of delinquencies, according to the analytics firm Trepp, which tracks securitized mortgages. In April, New York hotels accounted for $1.8 billion in unpaid balances, far outpacing second-place Chicago with about $1 billion past due.Even though the construction of new hotel rooms does continue in the city, there have been casualties, both big and small. Hilton Times Square, a 476-room hotel, shuttered last fall, and after months when the owner, Sunstone Hotel Investors, failed to make loan payments, wound up this winter in the hands of a lender with an uncertain fate.Similarly, the Holiday Inn FiDi, a soaring 50-story, 492-room high-rise near the National Sept. 11 Memorial and Museum, is now in foreclosure because of its three troubled loans, according to Trepp. But relatively small properties are in tight spots as well, like the 72-room Hotel Giraffe on Park Avenue South, which has fallen more than three months behind with its mortgage checks.What’s still up and running is often not being run as a typical hotel. Starting a year ago, in an effort to stop the spread of Covid in often cramped shelters, more than 60 city hotels became shelters for 9,500 homeless people, an arrangement that continues at many addresses. The Watson Hotel at 440 West 57th Street in Midtown Manhattan. The two-towered hotel, which has served as a homeless shelter during the pandemic, recently sold to a developer that may convert one tower into market-rate housing.Katherine Marks for The New York TimesBut developers are starting to consider struggling hotels as potential investments. This month, Yellowstone Real Estate Investments plunked down $175 million for the 600-room Watson Hotel in Midtown that in many ways is an emblem of the embattled hospitality sector.Long a Holiday Inn, the West 57th Street property was reinvented as a boutique getaway in 2017 by a new owner, BD Hotels, whose portfolio includes downtown hot spots like the Mercer, the Bowery and the Jane. But then Covid hit, and BD defaulted, despite turning much of the Watson Hotel into a homeless shelter, for which the city reimbursed it.For the 1964 building’s newest chapter, Yellowstone will turn one of the hotel’s two towers into market-rate apartments, according to sources familiar with the deal, while leaving the other tower as a hotel. Isaac Hera, the firm’s chief executive, said in an email that plans were not set yet, but added that “having the flexibility of implementing different uses and different business plans is a very attractive proposition.”City and state officials have pushed for the conversion of hotels into affordable housing, but developers note that building codes could make that difficult.For starters, apartments must be at least 150 square feet, while hotel rooms are allowed to be smaller. And apartments require kitchens, though in some affordable-housing complexes, tenants can share kitchen facilities, said Mark Ginsberg, a principal at Curtis + Ginsberg Architects, which has designed affordable projects.Adding kitchens and enlarging rooms to meet codes could also ultimately reduce the number of beds, a counterproductive move, Mr. Ginsberg said. It could also balloon costs, turning a standard hotel makeover with $3 million in cosmetic changes into a $30 million overhaul.The process seems so daunting that an investor interested in converting a struggling 60-room hotel on the Lower East Side is getting cold feet, said Mr. Ginsberg, who is assessing the site for the investor.Since last spring, Mr. Ginsberg has looked at about a half dozen other hotel sites for similar clients. “With the destruction of the tourism industry, this is the time to act,” he said.Ted Houghton, an affordable-housing developer, says that hotels in industrial zones will likely be conversion targets.Katherine Marks for The New York TimesIt can also be tricky to identify ideal sites, said Ted Houghton, the head of Gateway Housing, an affordable-housing developer that creates what is known as supportive housing, which provides some social services on-site.Hotels in industrial areas seem to be low-hanging fruit, said Mr. Houghton, who began his career in the late 1980s, during another housing crash, by helping create supportive housing in the crumbling Times Square Hotel on West 43rd Street.Many neighbors don’t approve of hotels in industrial zones because they take land away from true manufacturers, he said. About 250 of New York’s 700 hotels are in such zones, though you wouldn’t always know an industrial zone when you see one. The Mercer, in ritzy SoHo, for example, is in one, as is the line of hotels along Wythe Avenue in Williamsburg, Brooklyn — though converting those locations to affordable housing could also stir controversy.“No hotel has a for-sale sign on it, but every hotel could be for sale,” Mr. Houghton said.Streamlining the redesign process so that old hotels can become affordable housing is a priority of State Senator Brian Kavanaugh, a Democrat who represents parts of Brooklyn and the Lower East Side. He is sponsoring a bill that would allow developers to convert hotels into affordable housing without having to get the kinds of building permits required for new residential properties. Also, the law would apply only to hotels in industrial zones within about a block of residential neighborhoods.“You don’t want to be dropping affordable housing into the middle of a desert,” said Mr. Kavanaugh, who added that offices would be much harder to convert. “It would be too expensive, even with subsidies. That would probably happen only with market-rate apartments.”Similarly, a bill from Michael Gianaris, a State Senator from Queens, would give the state power to buy distressed hotels and office buildings, and redevelop them into housing for low-income and homeless tenants, though most Manhattan addresses would be excluded. Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo has also discussed similar goals.The state budget passed this month allocates $100 million to reinvent hotels as affordable housing. Plus, $270 million in the federal American Rescue Plan is designated for the homeless in New York, and those funds could potentially help finance conversions as well. “There is a sense of a real opportunity here,” Mr. Kavanaugh said.20 Broad Street, a converted office building in the financial district that once housed stockbrokers, has transformed a former vault into a lounge.Katherine Marks for The New York TimesComing Full CircleIn a city where renewal takes odd turns — churches have morphed into nightclubs, factories into fashion shops, and post offices into train stations — it should come as no surprise that some buildings can revert to their original purpose years later.That’s what’s happening at 960 Sixth Avenue, a 16-story limestone edifice at West 35th Street that began life as an office building, had a brief turn as a hotel, and is now set to welcome workers again in May.Opening in 1930, the building housed fabric textile showrooms and yarn firms for much of the 20th century, before Atlantic Bank of New York took it over for its headquarters. In the late 2000s, an attempt by the Statuto Group, an Italian firm, to recast the building with a mix of creative tenants fell flat because of the Great Recession, and a foreclosure followed. The next owner, the developer Hidrock Properties, then created a 167-key outpost of Courtyard by Marriott. But after eight years in operation, the coronavirus put the hotel out of business last year.A hotel room at a former Courtyard by Marriott has been converted to a co-working space at 960 Sixth Avenue.Katherine Marks for The New York TimesThe latest location of the Yard, a co-working provider, is in a former hotel at 960 Sixth Avenue that was originally an office building.Katherine Marks for The New York TimesNow, the building, which also goes by 8 Herald Square, is transforming itself into a co-working hub from the Yard, a Brooklyn-based company. In a third-floor area that used to welcome tourists, the Yard has removed the reception desk and couches, and replaced them with conference rooms, phone booths and a kitchen. And in hotel rooms above, the Yard has replaced beds with desks — sometimes four to a room — while installing fake plants in shower stalls to make them less hotel-like.Desks rent for about $500 a month, in leases as short as 30 days, said Richard Beyda, a Yard co-founder, who looked at several other shuttered lodgings before landing there.“It felt like a hotel until we did our usual aesthetics,” said Mr. Beyda of his first hotel-to-office job. And while some may look around at all the empty office buildings and grimace, Mr. Beyda sees an ecosystem that’s adapting.Workers who no longer want to punch in for a nine-to-five experience might come around eventually, warming to his firm’s more flexible workplace strategy. “It might be the only silver lining of the pandemic,” he said.And at least one landlord is considering the ultimate repurposing: demolition.Vornado Realty Trust announced plans this month to raze the Hotel Pennsylvania, a 1,700-room building across from Madison Square Garden that opened in 1919, but has been shuttered for more than a year, and replace it with an office tower layered with outdoor gardens.The Hotel Pennsylvania “is decades past its glory and sell-by date,” said Steven Roth, Vornado’s chairman, in a letter to shareholders. But he also suggested that there were fundamental problems with the city’s hospitality industry that predate the pandemic.“The hotel math has deteriorated significantly over the last five years,” Mr. Roth wrote, “a victim of oversupply, relentlessly rising costs and taxes, and an aging physical plant.”For weekly email updates on residential real estate news, sign up here. Follow us on Twitter: @nytrealestate. More

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    NYC Retail Zones: Midtown Has Been Empty, but Other Areas Have Bounced Back

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    Shopping locally has helped foot traffic in some commercial districts across the city return almost to prepandemic levels.All eyes are on Midtown Manhattan as everyone anxiously waits to see if and when office workers and tourists will return to what have been eerily empty streets and whether the businesses that line them will regain customers lost during the pandemic.But other retail corridors across New York are also important barometers of the city’s economy, as well as key to its recovery; a survey of five of them, one in each borough, showed signs of resilience.“On the whole, business districts outside Manhattan are holding up better and some are really thriving,” said Jonathan Bowles, executive director of the Center for an Urban Future.This is not to gloss over the hardship experienced practically everywhere.Corridors outside Midtown that have much in common with it — commuter hubs drawing 9-to-5 workers — have also experienced a dramatic falloff in foot traffic and, therefore, customers for stores and restaurants. The same goes for areas reliant on leisure activities that Covid restrictions shut down.But retail hubs surrounded by residential development have fared better during a time when many people who normally work in offices were holed up at home for extended periods. When they went out, they spent locally. Supermarkets and other essential businesses have been flourishing.Larger economic forces that were in play even before the pandemic — such as the decline in brick-and-mortar retail in the face of online shopping — have continued to exact their toll. Empty storefronts were an issue on many streets before Covid, and the closing of Century 21 and Modell’s Sporting Goods outlets during the pandemic have left gaping holes in some shopping districts.Street vendors have long been part of the scene on Harlem’s 125th Street; some now sell face shields and other pandemic items.Katherine Marks for The New York TimesRetailers that remain have scrambled to adapt to ever-changing pandemic policies. Some have branched into online sales, often with the help of merchant groups, business improvement districts or the NYC Small Business Resource Network, a new public-private partnership that has deployed “small business support specialists” to neighborhoods throughout the city. But stores are also competing with street vendors, which have proliferated during the pandemic, and other problems have emerged, including increases in graffiti and litter.On streets with empty storefronts, asking rents are falling as landlords try to lure new tenants. Some new businesses have opened because they have been able to take advantage of lower rents, more flexible lease terms and the ability to move into a space that had already been kitted out by a departing business.But store openings do not match closings, and the moratorium on commercial evictions that was put in place to protect tenants during the pandemic is set to expire May 1. Many businesses owe back rent because they had no income during the lockdown and reduced earnings since then.“Many of our merchants are still in business because of the eviction moratorium,” said Jennifer Tausig, co-chair of the NYC BID Association, which represents 76 business improvement districts across the city. “We don’t know what will happen when the rent apocalypse hits.”Much is still unknown, and the absence of hard data has left people searching for signs of recovery wherever they can find them.Thomas J. Grech, president and chief executive of the Queens Chamber of Commerce, estimates that 1,000 of the 6,000 restaurants in his borough have closed for good. But he is busy going to ribbon cuttings for new businesses. And he has noticed more small delivery trucks on the streets — “the Boar’s Head trucks, the folks who supply bacon and eggs to diners.” To him, it means “people are buying sandwiches,” he said. “All that stuff has a ripple effect.”The businesses along 125th Street have benefitted from local residents shopping locally.Katherine Marks for The New York TimesManhattan: 125th Street While Midtown has been a ghost town for much of the pandemic, four miles north, 125th Street in Harlem has at times felt like its old bustling self, a clamorous mix of chain stores, mom-and-pop shops and sidewalk vendors.For years, Harlem boosters had made efforts to attract “Class A” office buildings and hotels, with relatively little success. But ironically, during the pandemic, that meant the east-west corridor did not suffer the way areas dependent on 9-to-5 workers and tourists have.Instead, 125th Street had 600,000 residents within walking distance and shopping locally. Those who otherwise would have been heading to offices sheltered in place and, when they ventured out, spent money closer to home.“We had a lot of the essentials — the banks, the telecoms, even the pawn shops,” said Barbara Askins, the president and chief executive of the 125th Street Business Improvement District. “People needed money and that kept the pawn shops busy.”When Covid restrictions shut down the Apollo Theater, 125th Street lost a  major generator of foot traffic.Katherine Marks for The New York TimesAll is far from normal, though. The Apollo Theater, which typically attracts about 220,000 visitors annually, was forced to close, eliminating a big draw.Overall pedestrian activity declined, according to the BID’s counts. After a dramatic falloff during the lockdown of April and May of last year, it rose steadily until, by September, foot traffic was back to February 2020 levels. It dropped again when the city’s gradual reopening was put on hold by the surge in Covid cases last fall and winter.Vacant storefronts are noticeable, and average asking rents have declined six percent since 2019, according to a report from the Real Estate Board of New York. Some landlords are trying to hang onto the tenants they have. Leah Abraham, the founder of Settepani and the owner of a building on 125th Street, has lost a tenant and cut the rent of others, with her eye on better days to come. “Harlem has such a strong cachet,” Ms. Abraham said. “I am sure it will rebound.” One promising sign: Trader Joe’s and Target will be coming to a 17-story mixed-use development on 125th Street at Malcolm X Boulevard that is slated to open in 2023 and will also include some affordable housing, the headquarters for the National Urban League and New York’s first civil rights museum.Some retailers on Fordham Road in the Bronx say sales are nearing pre-pandemic levels.Karsten Moran for The New York TimesThe Bronx: Fordham Road Fordham Road, the biggest shopping district in the Bronx, an open-air bazaar strung along a major east-west transportation corridor, went into the pandemic with a three percent vacancy rate, according to the Fordham Road Business Improvement District. Today, the vacancy rate is still three percent. And asking rents, after declining slightly last year, are back up to prepandemic levels, said Scott Silverstein, a broker with Colliers.All this says something about the staying power of the historic shopping corridor, especially after a year that saw the loss of 40 percent of the borough’s businesses, not to mention the highest Covid death rates in the city and an increase in the unemployment rate to nearly 18 percent.While some businesses have closed during the pandemic, street vendors have proliferated.Karsten Moran for The New York TimesIt also says something about the demographics of the area around Fordham Road. Many people who live nearby are essential workers who continued to commute to work, providing foot traffic to the businesses that occupy 175 storefronts between Jerome and Washington Avenues, the core of the district.Businesses hustled to survive — adding masks and hand sanitizer to their offerings, shifting to online sales and banding together in what Wilma Alonso, executive director of the Fordham Road BID, called a “mini mall” trend. Where a single establishment might previously have occupied a storefront, now there could be multiple businesses in one location. “It looks like one store,” Ms. Alonso said, “but when you go inside there’s an eyebrow place, a jewelry store and a lingerie person.”City Jeans, a Bronx-born chain started in 1993, has a store on Fordham Road — one of many sneaker outlets here. Sales are 80 to 85 percent of prepandemic levels, said Marko Majic, community coordinator for the chain. The City Point shopping center, just off Downtown Brooklyn’s Fulton Mall, draws shoppers from a wide swath of Brooklyn.Stefano Ukmar for The New York TimesBrooklyn: Fulton Mall As in Midtown Manhattan, the office buildings of Downtown Brooklyn have been largely empty during the pandemic. Ditto the courthouses.The absence of commuters has been felt on Fulton Mall, the eight-block stretch of Fulton Street that is closed to cars and normally sees some 77,000 people a day, according to the Downtown Brooklyn Partnership, a local development corporation. In 2020 foot traffic dropped by 48 percent to less than 41,000.But there has been a boom in residential development in the area in recent years, with new towers rising around the mostly low-rise buildings on Fulton Mall. And with people sheltering in place and shopping locally, this has helped balance things out, said Regina Myer, president of the development corporation.City Point, a multilevel indoor shopping mall just off Fulton, has drawn people from a wider swath of Brooklyn to its stores, which include anchor tenants Target and Trader Joe’s. This has benefited Fulton Mall as a whole, said Ms. Myer, pointing to pedestrian counts that reached 91 percent of 2019 levels on the corner of Fulton and Hanover Place in December.But it’s unclear whether Brooklynites flocking to City Point are also shopping in the chain stores and at independents selling cellphones, children’s clothing, sneakers and flashy gold jewelry on Fulton Mall.Of the strip’s 83 storefronts, 11 are closed permanently, although some of the closings predated the pandemic and some inactive sites are being marketed for redevelopment.The historic Gage & Tollner restaurant opens for indoor dining April 15 on a block where some vacant storefronts have been identified for redevelopment.Stefano Ukmar for The New York TimesGage & Tollner, the recently revived Victorian-era restaurant on the strip, has been doing takeout business since February but will open for indoor dining April 15. On a recent visit, its ornate white-painted facade stood out on a block lined with gated storefronts. “We have no neighbors here,” said St. John Frizell, a partner in the restaurant.Gage & Tollner is a landmark and by law must be preserved, but other sites on the block are slated for redevelopment, according to Claire Holmes, a spokeswoman for the Downtown Brooklyn Partnership.Rents on sites not up for redevelopment range from $125 to $250 per square foot, according to brokers, reflecting a slight drop from prepandemic highs. “They were hitting $300 per square foot at one point,” said Peter Ripka, co-founder of Ripco Real Estate.But Mr. Ripka was bullish about what he called “one of the granddaddies of the great borough streets.” “Fulton Mall will come back,” he added.Shoppers have returned to downtown Flushing, but storefront vacancies have increased and rents have fallen.Tom Sibley for The New York TimesQueens: Main Street in FlushingFlushing’s Chinatown is typically teeming, especially on weekends when people who live outside Downtown Flushing make pilgrimages to its dim sum restaurants and Asian specialty stores. The neighborhood is a major shopping district and transportation hub.The district went uncharacteristically quiet in early 2020, long before other parts of the city shut down, when many Chinese business owners here recognized the seriousness of the pandemic, and hostility directed at Asian-americans became more overt. Area residents were among the first to don face masks, shelter at home — and close stores and restaurants.Many of these businesses have not survived the year since then. Nearly half of the barbershops and hair and nail salons, many of which had been situated on side streets, have closed. So have about 35 restaurants, including longtime favorites like Joe’s Shanghai and Good Kitchen. Banks, medical offices and grocery stores, on the other hand, have done well, and a new supermarket has just opened in a space Modell’s previously occupied.There has been a 16 percent increase in consumer interest for shopping, restaurant and food categories in the Main Street corridor since the beginning of the pandemic, according to Yelp, at the same time that the share of consumer interest declined 49 percent for Midtown.These days the street feels as busy as ever, but the vacancy rate has risen to five or six percent from less than one percent, said Dian Song Yu, executive director of the Downtown Flushing Transit Hub BID. “We’ve never seen that before,” he added. Rents have dropped about 15 percent, said Michael Wang, founding partner of Project Queens, a brokerage. But deals are being made.In response to anti-Asian hate crimes, a volunteer patrol has sprung up to help keep local streets safe.Tom Sibley for The New York Times“Pre-Covid, if you had a retail store in the main strip you would have 30 offers,” Mr. Wang said. “Now the demand is much lower, but you still have five people very serious about moving in.”But anti-Asian racism that existed before the pandemic has flared up here, just as it has elsewhere, with people falsely blaming Asian-Americans for spreading the coronavirus. Earlier this year a woman was thrown against a row of newspaper stands and injured outside a bakery. Main Street Patrol, a volunteer group, has sprung up to document, record and, if necessary, intervene in hate crimes, as have other neighborhood watch groups around the city.Empire Outlets, an outdoor shopping mall in St. George, lost 65 to 70 percent of its foot traffic during the pandemic but visitors have recently increased.Erica Price for The New York TimesStaten Island: Bay Street The city’s most suburban-style, car-centric borough doesn’t have the density other parts of the city do, and many of its retailers line small commercial corridors and strip malls.The former have fared better than the latter during the pandemic, said Linda M. Baran, the president and chief executive of the Staten Island Chamber of Commerce. While most of the stores and restaurants along places like New Dorp Lane and Forest Avenue have been holding their own, the strip malls “are where I’m seeing vacancies,” she said. Six percent of the borough’s businesses have closed for good, according to a recent survey by the chamber.Bay Street, on the North Shore, is in its own category. It stretches from the Staten Island Ferry terminal south through three neighborhoods that together make up Downtown Staten Island: St. George, Tompkinsville and Stapleton.Home to mostly mom-and-pops, Bay Street was regarded as a work-in-progress before the pandemic. A 2017 city report counted 232 storefronts, many in poor condition, and put the vacancy rate at 21 percent. The rate had declined somewhat by early 2020, however.St. George, the neighborhood most familiar to day trippers who arrive by ferry, is the area that has seen the greatest falloff in foot traffic. This is where borough hall, courthouses and cultural institutions are clustered, and the businesses here have struggled ever since government workers were sent home, tourists stopped riding the ferry from Manhattan and the St. George Theater closed to visitors.Vacant storefronts have been a longstanding issue on Bay Street.Erica Price for The New York TimesSome restaurants have pivoted to takeout (and Enoteca Maria, famed for its rotating cast of chef grandmas, to selling bottled sauces). Some have opted to shut their doors and wait out the pandemic. But some new food purveyors have opened, including on Bay Street.Empire Outlets, an outdoor shopping mall near the ferry terminal, was still finding its footing before the pandemic. It has lost 65 to 70 percent of its visitors and four retailers, said Joseph Ferrara, a principal at BFC Partners, the mall’s developer. However, foot traffic increased 20 percent between February and March and parking jumped 140 percent.Empire Outlets and other area businesses are banking on the return of municipal workers, now scheduled for June 1. NYC Fast Ferry will start providing service to St. George from Battery Park City and Midtown Manhattan this summer. And on the horizon: the recently announced revival of the New York Wheel project, albeit in a scaled-down form and not until 2025.For weekly email updates on residential real estate news, sign up here. Follow us on Twitter: @nytrealestate. More

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    Curtains Up for the One Percent

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    While many Americans were stockpiling toilet paper and Clorox, the rich bought houses, sparking a gold rush in the decorating trades.Rob Satran thinks of it as the Hoshizaki syndrome.Beginning last March, when the world went into lockdown and it became clear that, as Mr. Satran said, “people were not going to be spending their disposable income on normal things,” the trade in high-end appliances abruptly took off.Mr. Satran is a part owner of Royal Green Appliances, a boutique dealership in New York that may be to refrigerators what a Rolls-Royce showroom is to automobiles. “Covid instantly domesticated people,” he said. “They were looking around and thinking about where to invest in their homes.”If, as the adage has it, old appliances are like old friendships — barely functional but too heavy to dispose of — this was the year when homeowners got around to casting a fresh eye on tired refrigerators, balky dishwashers, ranges with pilot lights that stubbornly refuse to ignite.It was the year in which some near the apex of the income pyramid concluded there was no reason to settle for an ordinary ice tray, or even cubes produced by some humdrum domestic appliance, when they could upgrade to a commercial machine capable of cranking out transparent crescents or lucid spheres or gelid top hats like the ones you used to see clinking in glasses at upscale bars. Why not buy a Hoshizaki?“Traditionally, the high-end appliance business is tied to the stock market,” Mr. Satran said, adding that when, by the third quarter of last year, it became clear that the markets weren’t likely to crash, the demand for Wolf ranges, Sub-Zero refrigerators and $4,000 ice machines took off. What followed was a combination of increased demand and supply-chain bottlenecks that produced a backlog felt most acutely by one population of professionals, and that was interior designers.Despite its dire human consequences, the pandemic had the effect in the design trades of sparking a gold rush, a development perhaps more surprising when you consider the fact that in the internet age everyone is a D.I.Y. expert in décor. “Insane is the word,” David Netto, an interior designer in Los Angeles, said of a surge in business noted in interviews with more than a dozen decorators and designers.If at the start of lockdown, Mr. Netto had assumed “brace position,” anticipating a career crash, he now finds himself in the midst of an extraordinary speedup, with far more offers for work than his firm can realistically take on.“I’m a boutique shop, and we never had more than four jobs at a time before,” he said. “Now we have 12.”For Brad Dunning, a designer in West Hollywood who emerged decades ago from the city’s punk rock scene and went on to establish a top-tier practice restoring houses by Modernist heroes like John Lautner and Richard Neutra, fears that a contracted global economy would spell doom for his business turned out to be unfounded.“I was, and still am, completely shocked that people were buying so much real estate and remodeling their houses,,” Mr. Dunning wrote in an email.“I get it that since people were stuck at home, they were focusing on their immediate surroundings,” he continued. “But I still found it odd that when we were all supposed to be wiping down our groceries with disinfecting sprays to avoid death, people were willing to spend gobs of money. Wouldn’t you be saving every penny?”Mr. Romano finds a place for a Regence fauteuil acquired from the estate of the restaurateur Glenn Bernbaum, the owner of Mortimer’s in Manhattan who was once called the “Solomon of bistro seating.”Drew Anthony Smith for The New York Times‘I’ve Never Been Busier’The answer to his question was anything but rhetorical for those Americans to whom a $1,400 government stimulus check was a fiscal lifeline. Yet for the wealthiest, those whom the design elite have traditionally served, the last year produced a home improvement stampede as people transformed their work-life safety bubbles with layers of comfort and convenience increasingly essential to those for whom wine cellars with computerized inventory systems are baseline amenities. Not only were the rich repainting, reupholstering and refreshing their curtains, experts said, they were snapping up houses as casually as ordinary mortals were binge-buying Crocs.“It’s bananas,” Mr. Dunning said. “As long as I’ve been doing this — over 25 years — I’ve never been busier or heard contractors or real estate agents I work with say the same.”When Todd A. Romano, a decorator whose interiors are regularly featured in shelter magazines, left New York in 2016 to return to his hometown, San Antonio, it was to ease the demands of a practice that once required him to commute to Paris from Manhattan on monthly shopping trips and to juggle a roster of clients around the country.“I wanted a more low-key quality of life,” Mr. Romano said. Steadily employed before the pandemic began, Mr. Romano has interior design projects booked through the end of 2022, he said.“It’s not just about rich people feathering their nests,” he said. “I mean, Home Depot is out of building supplies.”The walls of this Texas ranch house are papered in Bird and Thistle from Brunschwig & Fils, and the table is lighted by a piece of French mollusk pottery fitted out as a lamp.Drew Anthony Smith for The New York TimesYet while hoi polloi are shopping for the do-it-yourself flooring and bathroom vanity units that helped drive sales for the home improvement giant to $32.3 billion in the last quarter of 2020 — a 25.1 percent increase over the same period in 2019 — Mr. Romano’s clients are snapping up houses in places like Montecito, Palm Beach and Telluride.“We work for the one-half of the one-half of the one percent,” he said.“Sure, every so often I stop myself in my tracks and say, ‘Sheesh, this is a lot of money,’” he said, referring to things like a $31,000 sectional sofa recently commissioned from a Long Island City workroom for a West Texas ranch or a pair of $8,200 club chairs covered in hand-blocked linen from the fifth-generation French fabric house, Prelle — at a cost of roughly $396 a yard.“But it is also what it costs to do things at this level,” he said of the Olympian expectations of the ultrarich.When the decorator Elaine Griffin, who cut her teeth at firms like that of the architect Peter Marino in Manhattan, returned home to Georgia before the pandemic to establish Elaine Griffin Interior Design while caring for her ailing mother, it was with a modest set of expectations.“Before the pandemic, at client interviews, I was like, ‘Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!’” Ms. Griffin said, speaking from Sea Island, Ga., where she is designing three homes for as many clients new to the coastal barrier islands that rank among the top 10 most prosperous ZIP codes in the United States. “Now I’m like, ‘We have tons of wonderful New Yorkers moving down here, and if I don’t like you …’ Well, I’ll just leave it at that.”It remains unclear whether the pandemic flight from major cities will reverse itself as more Americans are vaccinated. For now, said Victor Long of Banker Real Estate on Saint Simons Island, Ga., the pandemic, a robust stock market, the flight from urban centers to tax-friendly states and what he termed “a major lifestyle reset,” have combined to produce an “a perfect storm’’ in real estate.“Initially, I was grateful for the slowdown, but it never really slowed down here,” the designer Elaine Griffin said of Georgia’s booming coastal islands.Malcolm Jackson for The New York Times“I went from doing $30 million in sales in 2019 to $53 million in 2020,” said Mr. Long, who added that he had already booked $36 million in sales by the beginning of March, 2021.“You always have those people who are struggling to get by on a million a year in New York,’’ Ms. Griffin said. “South of the Mason-Dixon line, the money goes a whole lot further.”She noted that a living room designed by her in 2021 may include a $21,000 sectional sofa, a $12,000 rug, a $6,000 coffee table and a pair of armchairs for $14,0000 and change. “My sweet spot as a Georgia designer,” she said, “is being able to cater to those New York clients because, guess what? New Yorkers are moving down to Sea Island in droves and droves.”It is not just Georgia, of course. “We have tons of people coming down here and buying horse farms, these houses that used to stay in the families of affluent Kentuckians,” said Lee Robinson of the Lee W. Robinson Company, a decorating firm in Louisville. “A lot of the old guard is having to sell, and the new guard represents a new level of wealth because, in my opinion, there has become a greater distance between the haves and the have-nots.”‘Zillionaire Bedlam’By Mr. Robinson’s calculations, to be a have-not in the current landscape of wealth creation is to eke by with a net worth of a mere $10 million. Few, if any, of the 34 clients for whom Mr. Robinson is currently designing houses, fit that description, he said. “The ‘haves’ nowadays are people with a net worth of $100 million plus,” he said. “If you want to see what that looks like, go down to Palm Beach.”In the Palm Beach of today, Maseratis and Lamborghinis are a dime a dozen, according to the designer and writer Steven Stolman. a longtime resident of the 16-mile barrier island. “A convertible Bentley is an entry-level car.”If Palm Beach was once a sleepy winter resort of the moneyed Eastern elite, it is now a kind of “zillionaire bedlam,” Mr. Stolman said. “Beverly Hills by the sea.”One bellwether is the unexpected arrival of a cluster of blue chip New York galleries: Pace, Paula Cooper, Acquavella, Lehmann Maupin, among them. They have established pop-ups and, in some cases, more permanent beachheads that cater to the same deep-pocketed buyers packing restaurants like Le Bilboquet, La Goulue and Sant Ambroeus or cleaning out the shelves at luxury goods purveyors like Brunello Cucinelli, Saint Laurent and Hermès.“At our price point,” Ms. Griffin said of top-tier professionals like herself, “these are second or third or fourth houses.”Malcolm Jackson for The New York TimesReal estate agents in Palm Beach have found themselves complaining about the paucity of inventory, with bidding wars now common and many homes being brokered and sold off-market before they can even be listed.“We have absolutely nothing,” said Liza Pulitzer, a realtor with Brown Harris Stevens. In over a quarter-century of selling property in Palm Beach, Ms. Pulitzer, a third-generation resident (her mother was the beloved socialite and designer Lilly Pulitzer), said she had never encountered anything resembling the frenzied market of the last 12 months.“Typically, we would see 180 or 190 houses,” for sale at any given time, Ms. Pulitzer said. “Right now on the entire island there are 42 houses.’’ Of those, 24 are “modestly” priced below $20 million; the other 20 range as high as $120 million. “Everything revolves around the real-estate boom,” she said. “Gallerists are insanely busy. Contractors are insanely busy. There isn’t a decorator I know that isn’t maxed out.”So, too, are appliances dealers hawking luxurious necessities like this year’s must-have range, the La Grande Cuisine 2000 from L’Atelier Paris. With six brass gas burners, a grooved electric griddle, two ovens and a central storage cabinet encased in a matte blue frame ornamented with copper trim, it comes with trademark fleur-de-lis appliqués on the doors and a price tag of almost $40,000.“I hear the lead time is a year,” Mr. Stolman said of the coveted ranges. (Contacted by a reporter, a representative from L’Atelier Paris placed the wait at closer to three months.)“If there are two things the rich hate, it’s to wait or to be told no,” Mr. Stolman said.Yet wait they must. “I used to tell people that on the back of my card it says, in very fine print, “It gets here when it gets here,”’ said Paul Vincent Wiseman, doyen of designers to the California Bay Area elite. “I’ve dealt with the very, very rich all my career,” said Mr. Wiseman, whose company recently added four new hires to its 40-person work force and, he said, recorded its most profitable month in 41 years in October when there was still no end to the lockdown in sight.“It’s obvious that people are a lot wealthier than they were even two years ago, but they’re also focusing inward a little more,” he said. “We all looked around and suddenly realized our homes needed help. It’s what I call the ‘What a dump’ syndrome.” More

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    Why Finance Gurus Switched Their Bait From Millions to Thousands of Dollars

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    Their YouTube videos went from promising proprietary secrets for achieving wealth to any little update on the stimulus. And the viewers came rolling in.“Mark your calendar, there’s a big day coming!” On Jan. 9, with the dream of $2,000 stimulus checks not yet deflated, the Southern California real estate broker Kevin Paffrath uploaded a video to his “Meet Kevin” YouTube channel, updating viewers on the status of the stimulus. Sitting before an array of glowing LED screens and pop-culture paraphernalia (a star from the Super Mario games, Thor’s hammer from the Marvel movies), Paffrath, a wiry white man in his late 20s with a close-cropped beard, leaned into the lights and greeted his viewers. Using the earnest eye contact of a veteran YouTuber, he ran through a summary of the situation: the interests at play in Congress, the details of proposed bills, the tangled qualifications for relief. Out of focus, over his shoulder, the monitors reminded us to visit his “Meet Kevin School” and sign up for courses to “Master Stocks”; at the end of the video, we are invited to “#BecomeMore” through investing, to subscribe to his channel and, of course, to smash that “like” button.This video would be just one of dozens about potential stimulus packages posted that day, even that evening — many of them from finance influencers like Paffrath, whose pitches normally involve real estate, stocks or airline points. A year ago, they were promising to share their proprietary secrets for achieving wealth, staging monologues in the drivers’ seats of luxury cars and poolside on cruise ships. Brian Kim, a Chicago accountant, had previously been explaining tax preparation, including how high-earners could reduce their obligations; Ramy Wahby once raised a complimentary glass of Champagne from a first-class airplane seat and offered to explain how he used airline rewards to get there. Now all that had changed. The thumbnails on their channels may have kept their usual style — buffoonish facial expressions, glaring yellow text — but it was videos about stimulus checks that came to dominate their feeds. They vied for the role of soothsayer before a rapt audience with a seemingly insatiable demand for information about when the government would offer financial relief.Personal-finance influencers turned out to be naturals for this part. They were already performing as the shamans of a core American mythology: that though the world may be divided into haves and have-nots, the only thing standing between you and life among the haves was some arcane savvy. The influencers were exactly like you, they promised; it’s just that they had cracked the code and would, in their magnanimity, break a taboo to share its secrets with you. (Simply sign up for their classes, buy their books and use the appropriate coupon codes at checkout.) Their shift to stimulus content was sudden and significant, but it was merely a change to the type of knowledge in which their enlightened-everyman personas were trained: Instead of decoding real estate or cryptocurrencies, they opined on means-testing and party politics.In Paffrath’s case, stimulus-check updates began doubling his other videos in view counts; one update became the most popular video on his channel, with 1.1 million views. For other finance gurus, these updates took over their output entirely. Their audiences grew dramatically, but the shift required a tacit admission: that the people they had been teasing with paths to affluence had ended up sitting around with everyone else, hoping for a check.Viewer demand didn’t come from upward-bound entrepreneurs after all, it seemed, but rather from those enduring the kind of precarity where the precise timing of a $2,000 deposit could mean keeping the lights on or the difference between housing and eviction. These audiences didn’t want yesterday’s news, or even this morning’s; the slightest budge toward progress was meaningful and welcome. So the output of YouTube updates was relentless: Every hour, a glut of new videos provided the latest on whether relief was coming and how many dollars of it were likely to arrive.The audiences they had been teasing with paths to affluence had ended up sitting around with everyone else, hoping for a check. Paffrath typically uploaded two videos each day. Some content makers uploaded three or more. There was, often, simply not much to say. The key to collecting views was simply to serve as foil to what the audience saw as an infuriating lack of urgency from Congress and the president. The YouTubers tended to mimic the calm, authoritative style of cable-news anchors, but other than reading other peoples’ reporting off printer paper, there was little to do beyond trying to match their viewers’ exasperation. The visuals, comically, featured the same techniques used to press investment schemes: stock images of fanned-out $100 bills and tantalizing click bait like “$4,200 STIMULUS!”Paffrath has a charisma that cuts through all this. He’s exceptionally talented at talking to a camera, a natural salesman. But when he turns to a flowchart breaking down the Biden stimulus proposal, what might even be sincerity leaks out. Judging by the ad hoc community formed in his comments sections, his viewers appreciate it.Then you remember the neon advertisements behind him and the exhortations to go “from $0 to millionaire and beyond.” That Paffrath, a multimillionaire landlord who once extolled the virtues of misleading tenants and vigorously refusing to rent to people with suboptimal credit scores, has come to be an exasperated avatar for emergency economic relief for the neediest — most of whom would be spending it on rent — feels deeply, typically American. A CNBC profile reported that Paffrath actually makes most of his money not from the industry he built his status on, not from investing or even from buying rental properties, but via his audience itself, from his YouTube channel’s advertising revenue and affiliate programs..css-yoay6m{margin:0 auto 5px;font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.125rem;line-height:1.3125rem;color:#121212;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-yoay6m{font-size:1.25rem;line-height:1.4375rem;}}.css-1dg6kl4{margin-top:5px;margin-bottom:15px;}.css-k59gj9{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-flex-direction:column;-ms-flex-direction:column;flex-direction:column;width:100%;}.css-1e2usoh{font-family:inherit;display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-box-pack:justify;-webkit-justify-content:space-between;-ms-flex-pack:justify;justify-content:space-between;border-top:1px solid #ccc;padding:10px 0px 10px 0px;background-color:#fff;}.css-1jz6h6z{font-family:inherit;font-weight:bold;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.5rem;text-align:left;}.css-1t412wb{box-sizing:border-box;margin:8px 15px 0px 15px;cursor:pointer;}.css-hhzar2{-webkit-transition:-webkit-transform ease 0.5s;-webkit-transition:transform ease 0.5s;transition:transform ease 0.5s;}.css-t54hv4{-webkit-transform:rotate(180deg);-ms-transform:rotate(180deg);transform:rotate(180deg);}.css-1r2j9qz{-webkit-transform:rotate(0deg);-ms-transform:rotate(0deg);transform:rotate(0deg);}.css-e1ipqs{font-size:1rem;line-height:1.5rem;padding:0px 30px 0px 0px;}.css-e1ipqs a{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration:underline;text-decoration:underline;}.css-e1ipqs a:hover{-webkit-text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;}.css-1o76pdf{visibility:show;height:100%;padding-bottom:20px;}.css-1sw9s96{visibility:hidden;height:0px;}#masthead-bar-one{display:none;}#masthead-bar-one{display:none;}.css-1cz6wm{background-color:white;border:1px solid #e2e2e2;width:calc(100% – 40px);max-width:600px;margin:1.5rem auto 1.9rem;padding:15px;box-sizing:border-box;font-family:’nyt-franklin’,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;text-align:left;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-1cz6wm{padding:20px;width:100%;}}.css-1cz6wm:focus{outline:1px solid #e2e2e2;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-1cz6wm{border:none;padding:20px 0 0;border-top:1px solid #121212;}Frequently Asked Questions About the New Stimulus PackageThe stimulus payments would be $1,400 for most recipients. Those who are eligible would also receive an identical payment for each of their children. To qualify for the full $1,400, a single person would need an adjusted gross income of $75,000 or below. For heads of household, adjusted gross income would need to be $112,500 or below, and for married couples filing jointly that number would need to be $150,000 or below. To be eligible for a payment, a person must have a Social Security number. Read more. Buying insurance through the government program known as COBRA would temporarily become a lot cheaper. COBRA, for the Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act, generally lets someone who loses a job buy coverage via the former employer. But it’s expensive: Under normal circumstances, a person may have to pay at least 102 percent of the cost of the premium. Under the relief bill, the government would pay the entire COBRA premium from April 1 through Sept. 30. A person who qualified for new, employer-based health insurance someplace else before Sept. 30 would lose eligibility for the no-cost coverage. And someone who left a job voluntarily would not be eligible, either. Read moreThis credit, which helps working families offset the cost of care for children under 13 and other dependents, would be significantly expanded for a single year. More people would be eligible, and many recipients would get a bigger break. The bill would also make the credit fully refundable, which means you could collect the money as a refund even if your tax bill was zero. “That will be helpful to people at the lower end” of the income scale, said Mark Luscombe, principal federal tax analyst at Wolters Kluwer Tax & Accounting. Read more.There would be a big one for people who already have debt. You wouldn’t have to pay income taxes on forgiven debt if you qualify for loan forgiveness or cancellation — for example, if you’ve been in an income-driven repayment plan for the requisite number of years, if your school defrauded you or if Congress or the president wipes away $10,000 of debt for large numbers of people. This would be the case for debt forgiven between Jan. 1, 2021, and the end of 2025. Read more.The bill would provide billions of dollars in rental and utility assistance to people who are struggling and in danger of being evicted from their homes. About $27 billion would go toward emergency rental assistance. The vast majority of it would replenish the so-called Coronavirus Relief Fund, created by the CARES Act and distributed through state, local and tribal governments, according to the National Low Income Housing Coalition. That’s on top of the $25 billion in assistance provided by the relief package passed in December. To receive financial assistance — which could be used for rent, utilities and other housing expenses — households would have to meet several conditions. Household income could not exceed 80 percent of the area median income, at least one household member must be at risk of homelessness or housing instability, and individuals would have to qualify for unemployment benefits or have experienced financial hardship (directly or indirectly) because of the pandemic. Assistance could be provided for up to 18 months, according to the National Low Income Housing Coalition. Lower-income families that have been unemployed for three months or more would be given priority for assistance. Read more.This confluence of the sincere and the cynical recurs constantly in stimulus-check YouTube. It serves a uniquely American need: Even at the height of desperation, nothing can ever dispel the mirage that riches are available to anyone with the work ethic and (if you insist) a little savvy. In the days leading up to the relief bill becoming law, Paffrath’s stimulus content remained his most popular product; soon he was posting videos calming those members of his audience for whom the $1,400 deposit had not yet arrived. Can the path forward for someone like Paffrath really lead back to making videos from the driver’s seat of a Tesla, promising to make viewers rich? Or will what he has seen during this stint — months of tending to a public desperate for news of a couple thousand dollars — open his eyes to the possibility of being just another rich person hustling the poor?Adlan Jackson is a writer from Kingston, Jamaica, who writes about music in New York. This is his first article for the magazine. Source photographs: Screen grabs from YouTube More

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    Photos: How Covid Changed New York’s Economy

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    Aug. 23, 2020 Times Square Oct. 1, 2020 Inside the Astoria, Queens, home of a couple while they worked alongside their two small children As the virus marched across the United States last year,over 20 million jobs vanished in just one month, the worst toll since the Great Depression. In New York, where cases peaked […] More