Is This the End of Governors Island?

NEW YORK — After a long, steamy summer, the weather was starting to change on Governors Island. A wind had kicked up and it looked as if it might rain, dark clouds loitering on the horizon and threatening to ruin the coming weekend’s OctFest. (Held, despite its name, in September.) Beer trucks, ice trucks and all kinds of vehicles were making their way onto the famously vehicle-free island for the second annual beer and music festival.

Deputy Mayor Alicia Glen was in a golf cart with Michael Samuelian, president of the Trust for Governors Island, giving a tour of what the future might hold for Manhattan’s largest redevelopment site. A few weeks earlier, Mayor Bill de Blasio had announced the opening of the public review process, kicking off New York City’s plan to rezone 4.5 million square feet on the island for mixed use to attract new tenants and builders.

Artists, waterfront advocates and general lovers of the island had heard the news and were already worried, planning to attend the first of several public meetings to ensure the city doesn’t ruin one of its last undeveloped tracts. But Glen shook it off.

“It’s New York,” said the deputy mayor, whose specialty is housing and economic development. “Everybody freaks out about everything.”

In the golf cart, Glen took the lead in the narrative as she and the much more low-key Samuelian drove along empty paths past deserted historic buildings. Glen grew up in a family of civil servants on the far Upper West Side (her mom was a state Supreme Court justice and her dad worked for Mayor Ed Koch), and Samuelian was raised in Bensonhurst, getting his start on the stage crew at Edward R. Murrow High School.

They pointed out three buildings that will, if all goes to plan, be home to an Italian day spa by 2020. They zipped past the abandoned hospital built in 1917 during the island’s military days, where countless Army brats, including the Smothers Brothers, were born. It’s said to be one of two haunted spots on the island. (The other is the South Battery Building, with its darkened ballroom and its Amityville Horror windows staring out onto the Buttermilk Channel.)

When she looks at the hospital, Glen doesn’t see dead people; she envisions a boutique hotel. In place of the new luxury glamping site dotted with white tents may rise a bigger, more permanent hotel and a “really cool” convention center.

New York already has a convention site, the Javits Center, but Glen is no fan. “If you were Steve Jobs, would you have ever launched a product at the Javits Center? I don’t think so. It doesn’t really inspire innovation and coolness.”

Though very few people were milling about this weekday morning, Glen could practically see the ghosts of Governors Island Future. She could envision its skyline — a single 30-story building next to a bunch of smaller buildings of 10 stories or so, smiling New Yorkers going to work, enjoying the park and the looming Manhattan skyline just 800 yards away. On the other end of the island, she said, maybe a university or some other research institute could find a home. An act of Congress would be needed to change the deed on the property, so apartment buildings are not in the island’s future. Still, Glen could picture the state-of-the art gondola that would shuttle commuters back and forth to Manhattan.

“This is a nice piece of real estate,” she said, “but we want more people to enjoy it, and we want all these uses to work together.” Things, she added, cost money. The island’s operating budget for 2019 is $20.6 million, with the city picking up 80 percent of the cost. “Artists and poets are usually not so great about what it costs to run a ferry and get freight on and off the island and keep the lights on,” Glen said. “We have to balance these things.”

Balance is the operative word. Governors Island is at a tipping point; after years of conjecture and big dreams, development seems imminent. But what lands here is anybody’s guess — and everyone’s dream.

Ever since 1637, when a Dutch governor bought the island — known as Nut Island — from two Native Americans for two ax heads, a string of beads and handful of nails, settlers have been trying to make a go of it. An Army post was established in 1783, then Castle Williams and Fort Jay were built, and eventually the Coast Guard took over in the mid-1960s. In 1995, after the Coast Guard announced it was moving out, the federal government sold the island to New York for $1 — not much more than that initial investment of ax heads, beads and nails.

But over the past two decades, big plans have been pitched again and again, only to be dashed. Because of a Catch-22 in its deed restrictions and city zoning — the deed handed over by the federal government forbids residential development, though the island is mostly zoned for housing — long-term development has been impossible. But that didn’t stop the dreamers. Mayor Rudy Giuliani suggested a Monaco-like “high class” casino. Donald Trump, long before he was president, said the island should be a combination of hotels, housing, recreation and entertainment; in an interview about the Coast Guard leaving back in 1995, Trump envisioned the island “converted into a total and unbelievable experience.” Developer Richard LeFrak, quoted for that same article, said “an exclusive island enclave arrived at by ferry sounds very delicious.”

A soccer stadium, a free-trade zone, a red-light district, a Sponge-Bob-themed hotel, a golf course, a prison and an amusement park have all been floated. Nut Island, indeed.

But it’s not until now, with the zoning changes and de Blasio throwing down the development gauntlet, that something may actually be built. Over the next year the city will hold a series of public meetings to discuss the rezoning of Governors Island. By 2020, the administration hopes to open the island to development proposals.

“We want to dispel the myth that we’re plopping spaceships down here,” Glen said. “It’s quite the contrary. This is all parkland and productivity. And isn’t it a little sad that no one’s here today?”

That depends on whom you ask. Some fans — mostly longtime visitors who discovered the island early on — are happy that many of its 52 historic buildings sit empty. Pioneers look back fondly on the days when the island was undiscovered, a wild, slightly creepy place in the middle of the harbor that most New Yorkers simply ignored.

Writer Gabriel Cohen, who went to the island to research his crime novel, “The Graving Dock,” back when it first opened to civilians in 2005, remembers the remnants of the Coast Guard era: the bowling alley, the Burger King, the schools, the movie theater — all hastily abandoned like Pompeii. “Most New Yorkers were not aware of this place,” he said. “They saw this strange island out there and wondered what it was.”

Antony Zito and Jack Robinson, co-founders of 4heads, running an art fair on the island for the past decade, reminisced about the rundown nature of the place when they first arrived. “It was cool,” Zito said, wistfully. “It looked like a postapocalyptic film scenario.” During their first art fair, a security guard came by and announced there were a whopping 12 visitors.

Leslie Koch, who had worked for years in education and at Microsoft, was appointed in 2006 by Mayor Michael Bloomberg to lure more visitors to the island, and in 2010 was made head of the Trust for Governors Island. Under her quirky watch, this strange, deserted place slowly revealed itself to a few New Yorkers, mostly those looking for peace and quiet. Koch curated and oversaw it all by bike, pedaling from one end of the island to the other.

Merritt Birnbaum, who leads the Friends of Governors Island, the fundraising nonprofit that shares a building with the Trust, said the island was never really for tourists, who usually come to New York for the crowds and excitement. “We in New York City crave this open space and this disconnection,” she said. “People who come as tourists already have that. They want to see Times Square.”

The ferry and bicycle rentals were free at first, to encourage the public to come and enjoy the green space and open sky. No cars were allowed, so there was no traffic. Parents came with their kids to ride bikes around the 172 acres, to play mini-golf, to make art in tents and get a fantastic view of the Statue of Liberty. The island was open only on weekends and only in summer. And except for a few concert dates, it was never open at night.

To draw more people into the orbit, music events like the Black and White festival were held, as well as one infamous MIA concert that was interrupted by a thunderstorm, and the ill-fated Governors Ball, which moved to Randalls Island after just one year.

“Leslie saw that wasn’t going to add anything,” said David Koren, founder of the Figment public art project, which helped bring some of the first visitors and set up the funky miniature golf course. “It might be a big check, but it was not going to build the culture. It was going to chase some people away.”

Summer attractions included a Dutch festival, a French carnival with antique rides, and the Jazz Age Lawn Party, which still takes up residence twice a year on Colonels Row. Under Koch, the New York Harbor School, a public high school specializing in scuba diving, oyster farming and other water-related studies, found its home in an old converted barracks. But her greatest achievement was probably the Hills, a park rising 70 feet above sea level, built on landfill made from demolished buildings and old subway cars.

In the last few years, people started coming in droves. More ferries were added. And things started to change. As Yogi Berra once said: “Nobody goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.”

That first summer in 2005, a total of 8,000 people came to visit. This past year, there were 800,000.

In February 2016, de Blasio, in his state of the city address, declared that the island would be “activated” and turned into a year-round destination for New Yorkers. A few months later, Koch stepped down and was replaced by Samuelian, a real estate developer who is best known for his planning of the Hudson Yards project in Manhattan.

Under the mayor’s mandate, Samuelian is trying to pay for daily operations and the maintenance of the historic district through high-priced events and a new restaurant. Luxury glamping, with tents rented for as much as $850 a night, was added this year in the western development zone.

The island’s season was extended to six months and seven days a week. Weekend nights were added. OctFest, featuring live bands, gourmet food and 250 craft beers, as well as Pinknic, a rosé wine and dance music festival, have thrived. Cohen, the crime writer, accidentally stumbled upon the Pinknic festival two summers ago, and said he was horrified by what he found — much more so than he was by the spooky empty buildings years ago. “I didn’t even know this existed,” he said of the festival. “But suddenly, there was this thump, thump, thump and people dressed in pink and white, drunk out of their minds, vomiting. I said, this is not a nice use of this public park. It was gross.”

No one but the 18,000 Pinknic revelers seem to like Pinknic all that much. Everyone involved in Governors Island said, off the record, that it was everyone’s least favorite event, but it brings in $95 a head.

Pierrick Bouquet, the co-founder of the festival, which got its start three years ago during Koch’s tenure, said Pinknic was a crucial part of the island’s programming and had brought much needed media attention. But he was aware of complaints and was reworking the business plan to address them. This year, the number of restaurants was raised from three to 12 to help balance alcohol consumption. Next year the hours will be pushed back to limit the interaction with other guests on the island. “We love the island,” he said. “It’s beautiful. And we would like to keep Pinknic there.”

Those who like to see the world in black and white (not in pink) blame the new administration for the changes that have come. But anyone who has been paying attention knows it has been a slow evolution and that the zoning changes and development were always part of the long-term plan.

Robert Pirani, who helped preserve the open space on the island back in its beginnings while working for the Regional Plan Association and helped form the Governors Island Alliance (the precursor to the Friends), said it was only a matter of time before some space was developed.

Samuelian, he said, who was on the Friends board before being appointed by de Blasio, once asked why it couldn’t just be one big park.

Pirani explained: “We need to use the development of those 33 acres to attract people so the island can be open year round so somebody will invest some capital and reinvest in the buildings. That’s always been the goal. But finding that happy balance is tough.”

“The deed restrictions reflect that advocacy we did,” Pirani added. “The idea was not private residential. At the time that was the danger; you would have 4,000 voters on an island and ultimately, like Battery Park City, you would have people with a vested interest in keeping out the public.”

The deed and zoning have helped slow down development on the island, Zito said. “So the city can think about the right way to do things,” he said. A series of public meetings will take place over the next year as the city applies for its zoning changes. One of the casualties of progress has been the Figment art fair, an 11-year fixture that helped establish the island as a cool place to visit. Koren recently announced he would be pulling out of Governors Island and signing a new lease with Roosevelt Island for next summer. When Samuelian heard the news, he sat down with Koren and tried to work out a solution.

“But I was like, ‘We have to go now,'” said Koren. “There was a difference with the whole way things were being run,” he added, referring to a more freewheeling era before Samuelian’s arrival. “It has gotten harder and harder to work there given the population, given the desire to increase the season, the increase to seven days a week. More and more process has been added in terms of permits and costs.”

Each year, the Figment pavilion — an architectural structure — was placed on the big green parade ground. One year it was made of empty jugs, another year of concrete reef balls and rebar. It never failed to impress island visitors. This year, because the parade ground was being used by large events like OctFest, the pavilion — made of grain silos — was placed on the Brooklyn side of the island next to a giant pile of rubble, practically hidden from view. It seemed to be the last straw for Koren. As cultural programming has grown, Samuelian points out, Figment is now just one of 58 arts groups vying for free public space on the island.

As part of his farewell, Koren organized 14 arts groups to draw up a statement that was read at the first open meeting. Co-signing the statement is 4heads.

“We’re not going to strap ourselves to bulldozers or anything,” said Zito, of the arts organization 4heads, which co-signed Koren’s statement. “It’s not a protest.”

Though from the look of the crowd that showed up Wednesday night, it seemed that way. More than 120 people jammed into the ferry terminal in Lower Manhattan for the first public meeting on the development. Many were there to plead with Samuelian to save their island oasis. Some wore khaki T-shirts that read, “Defend Governors Island.” There were artists, but also parents, park rangers, politicians, green-space activists, waterfront advocates, and just regular citizens, all with one thing in common: a fierce attachment to the island.

Loudly applauding one another, these relative strangers begged for transparency, for a say in what happens and for a moratorium on skyscrapers. Kevin C. Fitzpatrick, author of the “Governors Island Explorer’s Guide,” implored officials to preserve the views and limit buildings to 111 feet — the height of the Statue of Liberty from her feet to the top of her crown.

“We must act,” said Fitzpatrick. “We must defend Governors Island. Otherwise the Trust won’t be heroes. They will go down as villains in the same stripe as Robert Moses.”

But there is also a sense that the changes coming to the island are inevitable, and the best that can be hoped for is cooperation.

Rob Buchanan, a boat builder and founder of the New York Water Trail Association, said he has been pushing for years for human-powered boat access to the island — kayaks, canoes and the like. Last spring, he was thrown a bone when a dock was restored. “But you have to call security when you arrive, and there’s a locked gate,” he said.

“I’m not objecting to the fact that they’re rezoning the island,” Buchanan said. “It’s the direction the island has taken, and by extension all the waterfront parks in the city are going — in the direction of privatization. The park was created with the promise of open access. Making money through real estate should be secondary to public access.” Peter Malinowski, who runs the Billion Oyster Project, which is based on Governors Island and seeds New York’s oyster beds with the help of Harbor School students, said he knew change was coming. But he was confident it will be positive change; he has hopes for an aquarium or some university or institution that could help restore New York Harbor.

“We love undeveloped Governors Island but totally understand that’s not a long-term reality,” he said. “It’s so amazing coming out here in the middle of the winter when there’s no one out here. The snow stays white. So that’s a little sad. But I’m hopeful they’ll do the right thing.”

Murray Fisher, the co-founder of the oyster project and the Harbor School, said the island provides a unique opportunity to build a global campus for studying nature, biodiversity and climate change that could be itself sustainable and set an example for the rest of the planet. “Let’s not just throw another Battery Park City out there,” he said.

For her part, Glen said those who love the island the way it is shouldn’t worry. “The things that people love about Governors Island are not changing. We’re going to invest more money in their facilities and make this island a better place,” she said as she guided her golf cart past the empty and possibly haunted South Battery Building. “All those people who hate everything should be applauding us. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be better than fine.”

Samuelian, a man of few words, chimed in. With the revenue that new tenants will bring, the old movie theater could be restored to create programming with Lincoln Center or the Tribeca Film Festival. Artist, science and writer residencies could be added in Nolan Park, the quaint collection of yellow clapboard houses near the island’s center.

As he made his way from the golf cart back to his office, Samuelian laid out his philosophy. “The mantra is no single user. No single use. The best neighborhoods in New York are a mash-up of things. If it’s going to remain public, it needs to have a diversity of uses,” he said, nodding. “Getting the right balance is absolutely the most important thing.”