A Buck and A Dream

The evening that the east wall of the White Brothers Livery on Jersey Street collapsed outward into the backyards of its immediate neighbors, preservationist Tim Tielman stood on the sidewalk next to the building’s owner, Robert Freudenheim, surveying the damage. On the spot, Tielman offered him one dollar for title to the property. Freudenheim’s neglectful stewardship of the historic carriage house had led inexorably to its collapse, and Tielman had no faith that the former owner of the Lenox Hotel could muster both inclination and means to prevent an emergency demolition of the structure. Tielman considered that his Campaign for Greater Buffalo History, Architecture & Culture could receive the property and secure it, then seek investors willing to commit the millions required to develop the property.

Time was short; the structure was an immediate hazard to neighbors, and the city planned to take demolition bids the next morning.

Freudenheim seemed to consider the offer, Tielman recalled the next evening, when the demolition contract had already been issued. Then he wavered, and finally he refused.

Three weeks later, however, Freudenheim accepted Sam Savarino’s dollar. The developer took title of the livery this week in a deal that gave preservationists and the city all the things they’ve been negotiating for: whatever can be preserved of the livery will be saved from demolition; the property will be separated from the deadbeat Freudenheim, who still owes the city for the emergency demolition of his building at 7 Wadsworth; a developer has stepped forward with a promise to convert the 120-year-old brick goliath to a new use; and all of this seems likely to happen quickly, which means five residents evacuated from houses in the shadow of the structure may be able to return home soon.

Savarino says he was first contacted by preservationists who sought his advice and assistance, “to strengthen their case that something other than a total demolition could be done.”

Upon reviewing reports by engineers and demolition experts, it became apparent to Savarino, and eventually to city officials, that there were viable options besides tearing down the building. “But the city was not interested in preserving any part of the building if it was going to revert to Freudenheim,” Savarino says.

So, while neighbors and preservationists fought the impending demolition in the courts, he negotiated with Freudenheim’s attorney and eventually took title for $1. A lien for the eventual price of “therapeutic demolition”—about $400,000 to take down whatever parts of the building are deemed hopeless—accrues to the property. Savarino will have to pay that lien or appeal to the city to drop it or at least offer some relief. Freudenheim isn’t likely to pay a dime, though the city plans to pursue restitution in court. “I think that cupboard is rather bare,” Savarino says.

The only way Savarino will convince the city to drop the lien is to demonstrate the benefits they city will derive from his development in the form of property taxes. Though plans are preliminary, he intends a residential development—high-end rental units or condominiums on the second and third floors, parking on the first floor. The “lowest common denominator” on preservation, Savarino says, includes salvaging the first two floors of the building’s front facade, as well as the rear wall. He’ll build around those elements using the existing foundations. He may apply for historic preservation tax credits to help finance the project.

Savarino met with neighbors on Tuesday and intends to have more specific plans ready to show them in the next two weeks.

“It is chancy,” Savarino says of the project. “I’m not sure it would be on the top of anybody’s development list. It takes lots of work, it takes knowing where some of the funding sources are. It is doable.

“I wouldn’t describe it as a home-run project. I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t concerned with the welfare of the building. But I’m not in the business of going out of business.”

—geoff kelly