Local residents pass by the memorial set up outside the Krim's apartment building

As police continue to try and discover the motive behind nanny Yoselyn Ortega’s recent stabbing of two Upper West Side children, the victimized family’s neighborhood faces the challenge of coming to terms with a tragedy that is the realization of every parent’s nightmare.

Marina Krim found Leo, her 2-year-old son, and Lucia, her 6-year-old daughter, bleeding in their bathroom’s tub on Thursday, Oct. 25. She came home with her third child after Ortega failed to meet her with Leo and Lucia at the dance studio where Lucia had a scheduled lesson. According to police, the family’s apartment at 57 W. 75th St. was dark when Marina arrived, so she asked the building’s doorman if Ortega and the kids had left, then returned to her home to check again. Ortega waited in the bathroom with the unconscious children, and plunged a kitchen knife into her own throat when Marina entered the room.

Multiple neighbors reported hearing Marina’s screams. The doorman dialed 911, and medics rushed Ortega and the stabbed children to the hospital, where Leo and Lucia were pronounced dead. Marina’s husband, CNBC executive Kevin Krim, was told of the events when he landed at John F. Kennedy Airport that evening.

Ortega fell into a coma over the weekend, but recovered shortly thereafter. Police finally were able to question her last Saturday, and a police official told the New York Times that she said she resented the family because they were always telling her what to do. She did not confess to the stabbing, but told detectives, “Marina knows what happened,” the Times reported. After the interview, police charged her with first-degree murder.

The question on the minds of most passersby in front of the Krims’ apartment on Friday, Oct. 26, was “why?”: How could a 50-year-old nanny caring for a family that was by neighbors’ accounts happy and healthy, that reportedly loved Ortega, and even spent time visiting her own family at her former home in the Dominican Republic—how could someone so immersed in their life commit such a violent act?

The question was far from disinterested speculation for many Upper West Side families. A large number of parents throughout the neighborhood employ nannies, who are sometimes hired through an agency and submitted to background checks, but just as often paid under the table and recommended by word of mouth alone. (Ortega was referred to the Krims a few years ago by her sister, Celia Ortega, 53, who told the Daily News on Friday that she would “like to die” if it would make the children come back.)

Locals were forced to look at their own beloved caretakers in a way most never had: How could they make certain that such a thing never happened to their own children?

“After this, parents should never leave their children with anybody—not alone,” said Juana Vasquez, an Upper West Side mother of four. “Take the children to a public place, like daycare. But don’t leave them in the house. Even after a background check, you can never totally trust anybody.”

A neighbor across the street from the Krims was more sympathetic to nannies’ importance in the community. “People need nannies,” she said, and contended that the murder would not significantly hurt the job prospects of local domestic workers. Still, she added, the incident would affect how they are hired: “I think people are going to open their eyes and say we’ve got to check them out. They are going to realize that if you don’t have a background check and you don’t ask questions, then you are risking your family and your life.”

A Midwesterner named Bill, whose daughter in the area employs a nanny, took a philosophical perspective on the issue. Any time you leave your kids in the care of someone else, “There’s a possibility of a tragedy like this,” he reflected. “Here in the city, the unknown is everywhere. You can’t be afraid of life because bad things can happen. I’m not sure if that’s a healthy way to live.”

Bill noted that while his daughter was shaken by the tragedy, she is very comfortable with her nanny and has no intention of letting her go.

Many locals stopped by 57 W. 75th St. with flowers or cards during the afternoon on the day after the murder, Oct. 26, to add to an already-abundant memorial of these items piled up against the building’s stone pillars. Some people came with friends, some stopped and stared at the memorial in silence. “We weep with you at your horrible loss,” said a note from Sharon and Rob Taylor, residents of a nearby building. “There are no words that can express our sadness. We pray for you and your beautiful children.”

With wiggling toddlers in strollers, nannies came to the memorial, too. They shared condolences for the family, and attempted to make sense out of the tragedy along with the rest of the community.

“I can feel the difference when I’m walking,” said one of a group of four local nannies, all of whom agreed that the Upper West Side’s domestic workers maintain a strong social network, though none knew Ortega personally (or wanted to give their names to the press). “Normally no one acknowledges you. Now everybody’s looking in your eye.”

“Now it’s like they look really hard to see if they could remember a face when something happens,” agreed a second woman.

The four said they felt secure in their jobs and would not act differently around their employers, but they thought that many nannies in the area will now have a difficult time finding jobs.

“Families are going to be scared of hiring new nannies,” said the second woman.

“They’re going to be put through a fine-toothed comb,” said the first.

“And I don’t blame them,” added the third. “This is your most precious thing,” she said, pointing to the sleeping child in the stroller in front of her. “This is what you live for.”

But when is surveillance too much? The women weighed the importance of security against Ortega’s still-largely-inexplicable attack, which even an intimate relationship with the Krim children failed to stop.

“I don’t feel comfortable with cameras,” said the first woman. “That’s too much. I did not come to do this job because I want to pay my rent. If a person doesn’t love kids, go and clean the park.”

“Are parents going to put cameras in their children’s school?” agreed the second. “They have to let go of the child at some point.”

She added that she suspected Ortega had some sort of mental disorder. “Ninety-nine point nine percent of nannies don’t have health insurance, so if there’s something wrong with them, they’re not going to go to a doctor to get it treated.”

“Well, something snapped,” the fourth woman said. “No one who is healthy in her mind does that. If somebody [else] did not walk in there and do this, then something snapped in her.”

“Snapped,” in fact, is the same word Celia Ortega used to rationalize her sister’s behavior to the New York Post. “We don’t understand what happened to her mind,” she said.

What drove an unhappy person to commit a crime that very few unhappy people do, however, remains a question that Upper West Side families, nannies included, still want more-fully answered. A clear motive, no matter how twisted, at least provides an explanation. Without one, locals are left with only Juana Vasquez’s uncomfortable maxim: “You can never totally trust anybody.”

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*As the Go-To Mom, Kimberley Clayton Blaine has popularized “emotion coaching,” which favors empathy and relationship-building to address classic childhood challenges like tantrums and going to sleep. Learn how you can better help your child manage their emotions and take advantage of some local guidance in our interview with Blaine: “Peaceful Parenting.” Also, you have a chance to win Blaine’s book as part of this special giveaway!

*Theatergoers, rejoice! Broadway is expected to score big with adults and kids alike this spring. Whether your child is athletic (check out Magic/Bird) or a fairytale fanatic (try Peter and the Starcatcher), here’s a taste of what’s about to hit the stage, plus tips on where to buy discount tix.

By Rochana Rapkins

Former State Senator and New York Secretary of State Basil Paterson began life on the streets of Harlem as the son of Caribbean immigrants. He earned his pocket money working as a laborer at the Port Authority.

“Being black and growing up in New York City at that time,” he recalled, “the blacks worked for the shipping department and I remember we were paid not to go to the Christmas party.”

Times have changed. Dramatically. Today Basil Paterson is seen as a hugely important political figure in the life of his hometown—and he’s the father of the governor, David Paterson. The governor himself has deep roots on the Upper West Side, having represented its upper reaches in the State Senate before being tapped to become lieutenant governor.

Former Secretary of State Basil Paterson and his son, Governor David Paterson, have both represented Upper West Siders in the state Senate.

Indeed, the family’s history is New York’s history. Basil Paterson, at 17, enlisted in the army. He went on to get his bachelor’s and law degrees from St. John’s. He started a storefront law practice and eventually helped form Harlem’s Gang of Four, a powerful political coalition that included David Dinkins, Charles Rangel and Percy Sutton. He became the first black person to serve in the State Senate, representing the Upper West Side and Harlem. He did this while raising two sons with his wife Portia, a schoolteacher.

“There was no pattern to follow,” recalled Paterson, now 84, from the office where he has practiced labor law for the last 25 years.

The GI Bill paid his college tuition. Stickball matches covered other expenses—according to Paterson, it was common to bet on the games, and his team seldom lost. If Paterson knew how to work, he also knew how to hustle.

“I played through college, and I played through law school,” he said. “It was something people bet on, and we made money on it.” Laughing as he described how the ball used to hit buildings and ricochet off windows, he added, “There is so much chance involved.”

The man who thrived on games of chance was soon swept up into local politics. As chairman of the Morningside Neighborhood Renewal Council, he got his first lessons about the political process. In 1965, he went on to win the New York State Senate seat in the district representing Harlem and the Upper West Side, where he says he was, by that time, a well-known figure.

“I was an upstart. I took on the establishment,” he said with relish. “And I won.”

After a failed run for lieutenant governor on the Democratic ticket, in 1978 Mayor Ed Koch appointed Paterson as a deputy mayor. A few years later, he became the first African American to hold the post of New York Secretary of State. Yet he said that despite his rise to power, he did not forget his roots.

“When you are in office, you represent a community and you have to remember where you came from,” he said.

The place where Paterson came from was a place where neighbors knew each other and family bonds were tight.

“The block where I lived was a neighborhood,” he said. “Not just your parents, but your neighbors disciplined you when you did something you shouldn’t.”

His home base of Harlem was also the center of black power in America. He came of age in the era of the 1943 Harlem race riots, and on the eve of the black power movement and the civil rights movement.

Now Paterson works in private practice, representing the interests of unions such as the 1199/SEIU Hospital Workers Union and the United Federation of Teachers. Even at 84, Paterson is a thin, dapper man with a neatly groomed mustache who continues his advocacy efforts.

“The economic recession is hitting people hard,” he said. “The government doesn’t have money. You can’t get blood out of a stone.”

Paterson speaks with quiet pride about his children. That is true whether the talk is of the governor or Daniel, the other son in the family, who works for the Office of Court Administration.

“We raised our children differently from most,” he said. “David is, of course, legally blind. With David being the person he is, we did our best to treat him like a regular person. We didn’t send him to a special school for the blind.”

The family had a small home in Hempstead, Long Island, as well as a residence in New York City. Because the Hempstead public schools would accept his son into mainstream classes, that was where Paterson and his wife chose to raise their sons.

“I even taught him basketball,” Paterson said with a chuckle. “He never missed a lay-up and he was a great dribbler. People said, ‘Don’t do it because you’ll make him feel discouraged,’ but he did well.”

Well enough to wind up with the state’s top government job. Paterson was picked for lieutenant governor by then-candidate Eliot Spitzer during his successful gubernatorial campaign in 2006. In March 2007, after Spitzer’s high-profile resignation, Paterson inherited a tough job, especially during bad economic times. He’s had a sometimes turbulent tenure, but some capitol observers say he seems to have found his voice in recent budget talks, in part by standing firm against additional borrowing.

David Paterson got an early start on the campaign trail, his father recalled, when he began to campaign on sound trucks, or vehicles equipped with loudspeakers, at the age of 12. Paterson remembers his son as an excellent public speaker, even at an early age. “He always seemed to know more than anyone else,” he said.

Asked whether he imagined that one of his sons would follow in his footsteps, he sounded incredulous.

“Follow in my footsteps?” he asked. “He went far beyond my footsteps.”

By Rochana Rapkins

Real estate mogul William Zeckendorf, Sr., knew why he moved from buying and selling real estate into construction.

“It was a matter of my personality,” he wrote in his 1970 autobiography, six years before his death at age 76. “I like to build.”

His grandsons, who co-founded Zeckendorf Development, LLC, in 2004, have a similar itch. After working with their father on several major projects, the two Upper West Siders embarked on their own ventures, which included the 1-million-square-foot 15 Central Park West luxury residential building and 515 Park Ave., a 43-story residential tower. The later is often credited with pushing Manhattan real estate prices to record highs in the 1990s.

Arthur and William Zeckendorf (left to right) were the forces behind two of the most notable residential developments of recent years, 15 Central Park West and 515 Park Ave.

The brothers raised eyebrows when they chose expensive Indiana limestone as a building material for 15 Central Park West, between West 61st and 62nd streets, and added amenities such as a 14,000-square-foot fitness center, a soaring lobby with custom oak paneling, individual wine cellars and an in-house chef. Their motive, said Arthur Zeckendorf, was to create a building that reflected the transition between Midtown’s glass façades and the masonry and stone buildings of Central Park West.

“We wanted to pick a surface that would respect the history of Central Park,” he said. “That was part of growing up in New York. It really was to respect the beauty of Central Park and of New York City.”

The gamble paid off. Sales at 15 Central Park West were robust and a duplex penthouse apartment sold for a record $45 million in 2008.

Building is a source of sustenance for the brothers, but they say it is also great fun.

“I always wanted to play with construction toys and suddenly I could be involved with construction,” Arthur Zeckendorf said, remembering his early years working as a project manager for his father. “I always loved buildings.”

As a boy growing up on the Upper East Side, he liked to visit the Waldorf Astoria or look out at the city from the top of the Empire State Building.

His older brother, William Zeckendorf, had few doubts about his choice of career. “If I had any, they were answered pretty quickly,” he said.

Together, the brothers have developed approximately $3.5 billion in properties.

They are the latest in a line of builders that stretches back into the era their grandfather called “the good bad Old West.” William Zeckendorf, Sr.—the driving force behind Webb & Knapp, the developer whose monumental projects transformed urban America in the 1950s and 1960s—is often seen as the family patriarch. He grew up playing cowboys and Indians on a suburban lawn on Long Island and later made his home on the Upper West Side. But he knew his roots. The Zeckendorfs, he later wrote, were really “misplaced Westerners.”

After dropping out of his classes at New York University, which he described as a waste of time, William Zeckendorf, Sr., began to work his way up in the real estate world.

In 1938, Zeckendorf was offered partnership at Webb & Knapp, and launched a series of ambitious projects. In the 1940s, he assembled a 17-acre parcel of land that held slaughterhouses and tenements, thinking he would build a sprawling shopping complex. Instead, he brokered a deal to sell the land to John D. Rockefeller, Jr., who in turn agreed to hand it over to the United Nations.

“We have just moved the capital of the world,” a giddy Mayor William O’Dwyer reportedly declared.

During a building spree that began in the 1950s, Webb & Knapp built the nation’s largest shopping mall at Roosevelt Field. Dazzling apartment towers, shopping centers and office complexes sprung up across the U.S. and Canada, as the company took advantage of federal subsidies for urban renewal projects. Under Zeckendorf’s direction, the company drilled for oil off the coast of Surinam and bought TV studios, warehouses and, at one point, the Chrysler Building.

“He was one of the staunch supporters of urban America, and he put his money where his mouth was,” said his grandson William.

Eventually, the company overextended itself and went bankrupt in 1965. “Really, he was more of a visionary than a financier,” said William, who grew up going on regular fishing trips with his grandfather in Montauk.

The son of William Zeckendorf, Sr., William Jr., continued his father’s work on a slightly more modest scale. He built the Zeckendorf Towers at 1 Irving Place in the 1980s, when Union Square Park was crime-ridden and drug-infested. He developed Park West Towers, Lincoln Towers and the Columbia at West 96th Street. Arthur Zeckendorf says that the community welcomed his father’s projects, but that in media and financial circles, not everyone shared his confidence.

“My father did many projects, but because of the time in history—New York City was going bankrupt, businesses were closing and people were fleeing the suburbs—people second-guessed him,” he said. “In this business, you are always second-guessed.”

The current heirs to the Zeckendorf legacy were reluctant to divulge information about their personal lives. They spoke calmly and exuded confidence. Of the brothers’ relationship, William would only say, “It works.” Their investments are carefully targeted. Even Arthur’s current reading list, which includes A Billion Dollar Mistake and The Fall of Bear Stearns, suggests a man who is careful to avoid mistakes of the past.

Both are mum on future projects. However, asked if he would consider building another luxury building like 15 Central Park West in the current economic climate, Arthur Zeckendorf did not dismiss the possibility.

“The residential market in Manhattan and the Upper West has strongly recovered from the financial crisis of the past,” he said. “Given the right location, the market would absorb other super luxury projects.”

If there were no financial or other restrictions, what would William Zeckendorf’s dream project be?

“I think we just completed that,” he replied, referring to 15 Central Park West.

By Christopher Moore

Sitting in his office at Symphony Space, Isaiah Sheffer looked back on 32 very active seasons.

“It could only have happened on the West Side,” he said.

In July, he officially moves from being artistic director to founding artistic director. The switch was celebrated June 7 with an event called “Isaiah Fest: An All-Star Salute to Isaiah Sheffer.”

The outgoing founding artistic director happens to be married to someone who knows a thing or two about being active in the community. Ethel Sheffer, a longtime member of Community Board 7, is a walking encyclopedia of city planning issues, someone who’s been involved in cleaning up the neighborhood and planning its future.

Isaiah Sheffer said his wife, Ethel, came up with the idea of creating Symphony Space in an old movie theater on Broadway and West 95th Street. Photo by Andrew Schwartz

Both spoke separately and enthusiastically of the early days of Symphony Space—a notion that Isaiah said his wife came up with, since she was working with the organization Blocks for a Better Broadway.

“She suggested, ‘Why don’t you do something in the old movie theater at 95th and Broadway?” Isaiah Sheffer recalled. “So she’s responsible for the idea of Symphony Space.”

The Sheffers worked with the cofounder, Alan Miller, to create “Wall-to-Wall Bach,” a special event on January 7, 1978. Its success led to tears of happiness. “The part of me that wasn’t weeping was scheming—how do we take over this joint?” Sheffer said.

His wife remembers walking up and down Broadway, collecting $10 here and $15 there from merchants. She was “shilling” for a good cause, enlisting community support and eventually helping to give birth to a vibrant cultural institution.

For Ethel Sheffer, Symphony Space is just one venture in a long line of civic involvements. She’s become a key urban planner, serving as president of the New York metro chapter of the American Planning Association. In New York, she’s known for her critical work on the Riverside South development, which has involved everyone from Donald Trump to local West Side activists. Ethel Sheffer was also instrumental in the revitalization of Times Square, having worked with business improvement district leader Gretchen Dykstra on high-profile reports.

All along, she’s been an academic too. She taught political science at Barnard. At Brooklyn College, she was the director of a liberal arts program for law enforcement officers.

“A couple of my students were killed in the line of duty,” she said, reflecting on her community involvement in an interview at the Metro Diner. She’s currently an adjunct assistant professor at Columbia University in the Graduate School of Architecture, Planning and Preservation.

Back in the 1970s, as many mentally ill people were released from institutions and wound up on city streets, the impact was felt on the West Side. Single Room Occupancy residences abounded.

“Like many people, I was confused and upset that there seemed to be many people in trouble,” Ethel Sheffer said.

Then she saw a woman relieving herself on the street.

“I was upset for the act and I was upset for her,” Ethel Sheffer said, explaining what drew her into a group that became Blocks for a Better Broadway, centered around the area from West 86th to 96th streets. Her community commitment was underway.

Ethel Sheffer does not shy away from tough calls.

“There’s always going to be the criticisms, the difficulties and the difference of perspective,” she said. “That’s part of the good stuff.”

She’s even been a political candidate, having been among those who ran unsuccessfully against Ronnie Eldridge in her first bid for City Council.

On Community Board 7, where she’s been among the most quotable of members, Sheffer proves one does not have to be a political officeholder to make a difference.

“I’m fairly straightforward,” she said, admitting that she’s “not soft and cuddly.” That does not mean that she’s unkind. “I think mean is awful,” she added.

Her husband, who grew up in Greenwich Village and is a Stuyvesant High School graduate, has been an artistic powerhouse. He’s the talented leader who has presided over several cultural institutions within a cultural institution: the “Selected Shorts,” readings of short stories by actors, which have become both a neighborhood hit and a national radio mainstay; the political “Follies” that he writes and performs;  “Bloomsday on Broadway,” a celebration of the work of James Joyce each June 16, which next year marks its 30th anniversary; and a range of other music, dance and film programming.

There were lessons in the early days, before those successes.

“We learned a lot about what not to do, like never have an accordion sextet,” he said. “That was kind of a funky night.”

He initially balked at the idea that became “Selected Shorts.” He thought back to the night when Kay Cattarulla, another instrumental figure and board member at Symphony Space, whispered to him about having a series where actors read short stories. “I said, with the great vision that made me a great man of the theater, ‘Nah, who would go to that?’” Isaiah Sheffer said.

Success is also connected to the neighborhood.

“It’s crucial. You could find a derelict movie theater in a lot of places,” he said.

Before Symphony Space opened, so many talented people nearby were waiting for a place to perform; “within five blocks” there were chamber musicians, actors and writers. The audience was there, too.

Although he said there is no better audience than the one in New York, Isaiah Sheffer these days tours with the “Selected Shorts” team around the nation. He’s just been to Missoula, Mont., Palm Beach, Fla., New Barrington, Mass., and New Haven, Conn.

For her part, Ethel Sheffer was born in New York, brought up in Brooklyn and landed on the Upper West Side during the 1960s. She loves sharing time on Cape Cod with her husband, but she cannot quite imagine leaving the neighborhood in any permanent way.

“You ask me could I leave New York?” she said. “The answer is no. Could I live somewhere else in New York? It’s doubtful.”

By Christopher Moore

Tim and Nina Zagat were providing user-generated content decades before people used the term.

The Zagats, who met in law school, got the idea that the people who eat in restaurants might be a good source of information. In a culture where the restaurant critic was king, publishing experts said no to the Zagat guide.

“We were very lucky that every publisher turned us down,” Nina Zagat said in an interview with her husband at the company’s office overlooking Columbus Circle. Tim Zagat agreed, saying, “We were better off” being forced to self-publish and set up what would become a multifaceted publishing empire.

Tim and Nina Zagat are thrilled that the Upper West Side is no longer a restaurant wasteland. Photo by Andrew Schwartz

“We believed in something that all the professionals thought was ridiculous,” Nina said. “If you look at it today, I think history has proven us right.”

Indeed. When it comes to speedy, reliable, cleanly edited analysis based on user experience, the Zagats have become the go-to place. Today, the company’s content appears in the old booklets and on new iPads, and there’s a flourishing business creating customized guides for corporate clients of all stripes. For instance, there’s a guidebook to Harlem initiated by the arrival of President Clinton at his West 125th Street office a few years ago. Zagat content was ideal for computers and mobile devices—even before those things existed—because the writing is presented in a clear and digestible format.

“We’ve always been focused on having our content on any platform people want,” Nina said.

The goal: accurate, trusted and reliable information. In the early days, the data were on mimeographed sheets of paper. Today, Zagat is about to launch a new BlackBerry format and already has one of the most-used iPad applications.

It’s been quite a journey for Tim and Nina Zagat, beloved West Siders who love their neighborhood right back. Tim grew up on West 86th Street, eventually making his way to 336 Central Park West and then 55 Central Park West, where the couple has been for close to 40 years. He thinks the area is more diverse than the East Side, along with being a “laid back” place.

“It’s improved enormously,” he said of his home base.

He can remember when horse-drawn wagons with ice were going up and down neighborhood streets—a thought that made his wife raise her eyebrows.

“Nina, you didn’t live there,” Tim said, returning quickly to his recollection, which included a chicken store where customers could kill live chickens. “It was not a place where you wanted to walk too far,” he said. “There were some tough kids around.”

The arrival of Lincoln Center helped usher in a new era.

“The neighborhood has been improving all of my life,” he said, expounding on the glories of both Central and Riverside parks. Of course, as the ultimate restaurant authorities, they also partake of the area’s eateries.

“It’s changed dramatically,” Nina said. “I mean, there is so much more. The Upper West Side for restaurants was a wasteland for a while.”

Although with Fairway and Zabar’s, she added, the West Side has long been rich in prepared food offerings.

For Nina, the West Side was also the right place to be a working mom.

“The West Side was a great place to bring up our sons,” she said, mentioning the couple’s two children, who are now grown.

One is at NYU Medical School and the other works at Univision.

“I couldn’t imagine doing all the things I did if you were working in the city and living in the suburbs,” she said. “Your children also get a better sense of independence at a younger age.”

At one point, Tim thought of getting a house in Riverdale in the Bronx.

“Nina said no,” Tim recalled. “She said she needed to be able to get to the children in 10 minutes.”

And in Manhattan, she could.

Tim and Nina have been married for more than four decades. They work together closely and successfully, and Nina thinks one reason is that both of them had worked independently before teaming up. They also know how to divvy up tasks, with Tim leading the editorial message and Nina handling personnel and extensive new-media efforts.

Sometimes they both need to weigh-in on an issue. That might be where their ability to communicate comes in handy.

“We like to talk about almost anything,” Tim said.

And with their busy lives, there’s plenty to talk about. They share a home in northern Dutchess County, a lovely property that was featured in the New York Times. But they seem very much at home in Manhattan. They love the view from their Central Park West home and even their workplace—most New Yorkers would. Looking out the window, Nina points to the former construction site that has become a lovely iconic space: the fountain at Columbus Circle.

“Look at what’s happened here, right in front of our eyes,” she said, appreciating the urban landscape. “You feel really part of New York.”

And they really are.

By Christopher Moore

Assembly Member Keith Wright has plenty of memories of the Upper West Side, where he attended the Ethical Culture School as a child.

“We were part of a grand experiment,” he said, thinking back to when he was one of the only African-American students at the school. “There weren’t too many black students,” he added. “I think there was David Dinkins, Jr., and the son of Harry Belafonte and myself.”

As a boy, Assembly Member Keith Wright organized the 2nd- and 3rd-grade classes at Ethical Culture School when a local shop announced a price increase on baseball cards. Photo by Andrew Schwartz

Wright’s father, a judge on the New York State Supreme Court, was ensconced in an apartment on West 90th Street. Young Wright lived with his mother at 135th Street, but having his dad and his school on the Upper West Side gave him a familiarity with the area—along with the issues at play there. His five siblings have their fair share of West Side memories, too. Older brother Geoffrey is an acting Supreme Court judge. Alexis Wright, another brother, is a dean of children’s programs at the Bank Street School for Children and lives on the Upper West Side. Brother Bruce lives in Brooklyn and works for the New York Times. Patrick, 23, is a student at Hostos Community College. The one sister in the family, Tiffany, is a college vice-president and lives in Miami. She seems to be something of an exception, with much of the family’s life continuing to revolve around New York City.

As for Wright, he said that he wasn’t just educated on the Upper West Side.

“A lot of my philosophies took root there as well,” he said.

The neighborhood was fertile with lessons in civic activism for the future politician. Wright remembered being outraged when a local shop announced a price increase on baseball cards, up from a nickel to 7 cents.

“I organized the whole 2nd and 3rd grade,” he remembered. There were picket signs and protests.

Did it work?

“It absolutely worked,” Wright said.

That would not be the last political enterprise for Wright, who has become a go-to person for media figures reporting on the chaos in Albany. These days, reporters are asking about the incumbent governor, David Paterson, and his likely successor, Democratic candidate Andrew Cuomo. Wright offered kind words for Cuomo.

“He’ll be a great governor,” he said.

But Wright acknowledged quickly that the next state leader will face daunting challenges, too.

“It’s hard to govern when you don’t have money,” he said. “It’s easy to govern when you have money.”

As for Paterson, Wright said, “He’s had to make some very hard decisions.”

Wright is one legislator who will likely play a big role in years to come. He’s long been viewed as a significant player in the Albany politics game. The Manhattan native first won an Assembly seat in 1992 and became assistant majority whip in 1998. He’s currently the chair of the Assembly Social Services Committee, where he has his eye on everything from welfare to Medicaid to a range of other programs. He’s also been an active member of the Housing Committee, where he co-sponsored legislation protecting rent control.

Wright has seen up close the political realms of both the West Side and Harlem. He lives with his wife, Susan, and two children at 135th Street and Fifth Avenue. But ask him about the differences between Harlem and the Upper West Side and he’s likely to stress the similarities.

“I think they are pretty much the same on a macro level,” he said. “Everybody cares about having a good job, a good education for their children and gentrification.”

Parents in all parts of the city wrestle with where to send their children to school. Health care decisions continue to challenge family budgets.

“Everybody’s being affected by this recession,” said Wright, who insisted that job creation remains a huge issue for New York State.

He conceded that his childhood experiences with the West Side came in a very different time.

“I remember the Upper West Side when it was nice and funky,” he said.

But from the baseball card protest right on through to the larger political battles of his early days, he learned a lot of lessons.

“The Upper West Side,” he said, “taught me that it is only through coalitions that you will be able to win.”

Today, Wright thinks of the area as one where statewide and even national issues play out, due to the diverse population.

“The Upper West Side could be looked at as a laboratory of all New York,” he said, “although there might be a higher average income there.”

Still, he said, the different kinds of people are what make the area exciting.

“You have a little bit of everything,” he said.

By Christopher Moore

Saul Zabar stood at a Lazy Susan laden with cups, spitting out coffee after tasting it. He actually swallowed some of the particularly good stuff. Mostly, though, he kept tasting and spitting, tasting and spitting, making his way through the samples with considerable speed.

“This one I rejected,” he said, looking down at a specimen that did not make the cut. “I rejected this one. We didn’t care for it.”

Moving along, he gets to a Kenyan brand. “The Kenyans used to have the best coffee and they screwed it up,” he said, using a stronger word.

Saul Zabar should know. As co-owner of Zabar’s, he’s a key part of this city’s foodie firmament.

“I’m here 60 years,” he said.

Stanley and Saul Zabar, co-owners of the specialty food store and sons of founder Louis Zabar. Photo by Daniel S. Burnstein

He remains very much a part of the scene at the store on Broadway at West 80th Street, where five formerly separate storefronts come together to create an iconic Upper West Side space. Movies like You’ve Got Mail and TV shows like Sex and the City and Will & Grace use references to Zabar’s to evoke a whole sophisticated lifestyle.

For Saul Zabar, it’s a way of life. He was first spotted this spring day tasting lunchmeat on the first floor. At 82, he remains a vital presence at Zabar’s, where he weighs in on what’s being offered with a constantly streaming series of assessments. He’s a co-owner and president, but he seemed most proud when speaking about his role as the principal buyer for fish and coffee. Especially coffee. Saul Zabar cared about coffee long before his fellow West Siders made their way to Europe and discovered espresso, decades before Starbucks came to town, or other competitors began to pay attention.

“We were in the vanguard of the gourmet revolution,” Zabar said simply.

That history-making endeavor played out as family history. As a son of Louis Zabar, the founder of the Upper West Side specialty food store, Saul Zabar is joined in the family business by brother Stanley, an attorney, who is the vice-president. Their brother Eli has markets and restaurants, including the much-heralded Eli’s and E.A.T. Café, over on the Upper East Side. Over the years, there have been stories of squabbling among the brothers, but Saul Zabar said in this interview that Eli is “the genius of the Zabar family.” Indeed, some of Eli’s cookies are sold among the desserts at Zabar’s.

“We’re not connected financially, but we do a lot of business together,” Saul Zabar said.

And it’s not just about the brothers. Saul Zabar’s son, Aaron, also works at the store, as have cousins and the occasional in-law as well.

There is still plenty of business for them all to do. Saul Zabar estimated that the store draws about 35,000 customers a week, generating around $50 million a year. There’s been a recession-related drop of about 3 or 4 percent. Or as Zabar put it: “We’re not complaining, but we’re not immune.”

Although still drawing four or five tour buses a week, Zabar said he assumes that the majority of his business remains local.

“I always considered this store as a very special part of the West Side,” he said. Then he admitted, almost shyly: “That was my personal view.”

The connection to the neighborhood is underscored by Zabar’s contributions to Symphony Space, the JCC and a series of outdoor programs this summer at Lincoln Center.

“We try to be active within the community if we can,” he said.

Zabar’s roots here are deep. He mixed nostalgia and humor when talking about the Upper West Side, where he spent a portion of his childhood at long-gone movie theaters up and down Broadway. He lives at West 90th Street and West End Avenue today, but he grew up in a building across the street from Zabar’s. He talked about how the great bulk of the apartment houses were built in the same era, especially those from West 72nd to 110th streets. He thought back not just to the skyline, but to the skirmishes he experienced as a kid.

“The Jewish boys were always fighting with the Irish-Catholic kids,” he said. “It wasn’t terrible. Nobody ever got hurt.”

Years later, he was in college at the University of Kansas when his father died.

“I was not doing too well, probably drinking too much. I was becoming a bum, so when he died it was a good excuse to come back to the family business,” Zabar said.

His father left behind several businesses, but this singular food store emerged as the place that really lasted.

One key figure from outside the family who was instrumental in the ongoing success: Murray Klein, who joined the store in 1953, staying until 1994.

“He was good at managing the personnel,” Zabar said of his partner, who died in 2007.

Klein had a passion for housewares, which are now sold on the second floor. He was also key to combining the structures that became the modern-day Zabar’s.

Today, all those years after his father established a culinary beachhead, Saul Zabar can walk among the crowd. Like any visitor to Zabar’s, he will hear many languages spoken and watch so many customers filling their baskets, often bumping into one another. He keeps checking to make sure the coffee is premium and the fish is fresh. An icon, after all, requires upkeep.

By Christopher Moore

Helena Durst remembers one of the lessons she learned from her grandfather.

“My grandfather said, ‘You need to be able to walk to all your properties,’” recalled Durst, who is part of a family of builders who have had a significant impact on the West Side of Manhattan.

She liked her grandfather’s idea, and she thinks of it today as she walks the streets of the city, especially when heading to her workplace on Sixth Avenue and 43rd Street. She sees the little—and not so little—reminders of her family’s legacy. Like when she strolls by Manhattan Plaza, a Durst development on West 43rd Street between Ninth and Tenth avenues, aimed at working artists. Durst likes the moments when she stumbles on a spot like that, a place “to see something that’s a social benefit—to know that my family had some part in it.”

In a high-profile business in a city that constantly measures success, Helena Durst has managed to stand out, partly with her concern for the environment. Photo by Daniel S. Burnstein. (Inset: Joseph Durst)

Durst’s grandfather, Joseph, arrived in the city with $13 sewn into his lapel. Thirteen years later, according to the company’s history, he bought his first office building on West 34th Street. As buildings were bought and sold along the way, a success story was born. It continues to this day, with Durst’s grandsons Kristoffer, Douglas and Jonathan all playing key roles in the company.

Helena Durst is there, too, serving as a vice-president. She’s also netted headlines for her work on environmental issues. The New York Observer cheered her for “greening Gotham.” Among the projects she’s touched: the Durst Organization’s Helena structure on West 57th Street, a premier rental building that debuted in 2005, and the Bank of America Tower at One Bryant Park. That building is, as the Durst web site puts it, “the world’s most environmentally responsible high-rise office building.” Indeed, the site outlines the company’s construction policies for the project, which include: using 35 percent recycled materials; installing waterless urinals, saving 3.4 million gallons of water each year; piping coolant through ice; housing its own co-generation plant; and installing a green roof and rainwater storage plants.

All of this is just part of the Durst family legacy. The company has been the owner, builder and manager of business and apartment buildings in Midtown for several generations.

Helena Durst is hardly alone. She likes that she lives in West Midtown, so near so many family members, like her father, brother, sister, aunts and uncles. But in a high-profile business in a city that constantly measures success, she has managed to stand out, partly with her concern for the environment. Building green “is actually easier than you think,” Durst said. Selecting between making money and protecting the environment turns out to be a false choice, she argued.

“We think of it as building a better building,” she said, adding that there are practical, everyday choices that builders can make to create a more sustainable environment.

She’s proud of the buildings the Durst family created over the years, especially in the heart of the city. She pointed to “our effect in Times Square, the revival of Times Square.” She remembered as a 10-year-old being in that area and thinking of it as “so very dangerous.” This is another age.

“I feel much safer,” she said. “I would think that Bryant Park would be the best example of that.”

The Bank of America Tower, one of the Dursts’ most environmentally-forward buildings.

For Durst, it was not a given that she would wind up in Midtown in the family business. After attending Baruch College, she went to live for a while out in Washington State, and she considered careers as a writer or an English teacher.

“I realized I really wanted to make a difference in the world,” she said, and that there was a great deal of potential right there in the family business. The bottom line was, she added, “I did not want to throw away an opportunity.”

She didn’t. Instead she returned to the city and became a vital part of it. She likes the West Side, the activity and the energy and the sense of being part of the social and political issues of the day. She sees them play out, right there on the streets she’s walking.

“I definitely think of myself as a West Sider,” she said. “What makes it so special to me is the diversity. And the West Side is a reflection of what is going on. For better or worse, the West Side mirrors the city’s political issues and tensions.”

By Christopher Moore

Tell Jimmy Breslin that he’s an intimidating person to interview and he has a one-word response: “Bullshit.”

He turns out to be much more bark than bite, at least for an iconic, tough newspaperman. Still, the word “bullshit” comes up a lot—to swipe away opposition to the president, which he said is rooted in “one word: race,” and as what sounds like a term of endearment during a warm phone chat with a friend.

The friend is a gangster, according to Ronnie Eldridge, the former City Council member and Breslin’s spouse since 1982.

“That’s something that happened since I met Jimmy,” Eldridge said. “I’ve met gangsters—and they’re very polite.”

Ronnie Eldridge and Jimmy Breslin in their West 57th Street apartment. Photo by Andrew Schwartz

Gangsters have been good fodder for Breslin, whether in his famously insightful newspaper columns for Newsday and the Daily News or his nonfiction books. Now he’s at work on a biography of Branch Rickey, the baseball executive who broke the color barrier by signing Jackie Robinson, and also a new piece of fiction.

“That will get out first,” said Breslin, who thinks maybe his novel, Table Money, was his best work. “It was a good American novel,” he said.

Sometimes he thinks he should have stayed with novel writing, but he said fiction writers can wind up with a lonely existence. Breslin is grateful for his rich family life or, as he puts it, “I had a wife and a lot of kids.” Breslin’s first wife, Rosemary, died, as have two of their six children. His daughter Rosemary died June 14, 2004, from a rare blood disease, and his daughter Kelly died April 21, 2009, four days after a cardiac arrhythmia.

Breslin is hardly the only high-profile member of the family. Eldridge, who has three children of her own, was a special assistant in the Lindsay Administration and worked in Gov. Mario Cuomo’s cabinet. She may have retired from the City Council, where she represented the Upper West Side for 12 years, in 2001, but she’s the host of a CUNY-TV program, Eldridge & Company.

“I like to mix it up,” she said of the program.

Indeed, she’s interviewed guests from a wide range of fields, like Hearst editor Cathie Black, fiction writer Mary Gordon, Great Performances catering company chief Liz Neumark and Professor Rita Jacobs, who discussed humanism. Eldridge sometimes hits topics where her political background gives her significant insight, but she’s unafraid to branch out into everything from culture to business.

Back when Eldridge was on the City Council, she said, her husband acted like an “assignment editor,” telling her what she and her fellow council members should do. Today, he’s got opinions about her TV show, where he would like her to break some news.

“He doesn’t really watch it,” Eldridge said, “but he’s always got advice.”

Still, Breslin seemed willing to let Eldridge do most of the talking during a conversation in their West 57th Street apartment. The two had a gentle back-and-forth, only occasionally finishing one another’s sentences. More often, they gave one another space to tell a story. They’ve got plenty of them, with many rooted on the West Side, where Eldridge is a lifer.

Eldridge has lived in a range of spots, from West 57th Street up to West 93rd Street. She remembers 99-cent lunches at Tip Toe Inn. She and Breslin moved about a year ago from an Upper West Side apartment where they were spending $38,000 a year in taxes for 1,700 square feet.

Which reminded Eldridge: She’s been complaining about property taxes for a long time. But she said it’s an issue she could not get other politicians to tackle. Since leaving public office, she said she finds it hard to navigate the city’s bureaucracy. She admitted she was probably “spoiled” by the response she got back when she was an incumbent officeholder.

Breslin is famously rooted in Queens, but seems ensconced now in West Side life, getting up and heading out to swim in the morning at the nearby, spiffy Reebok Club.

“He says it’s like commuting to Stanford,” Eldridge said.

The two met when Eldridge was working for Sen. Robert Kennedy, who told her about a journalist named Jimmy Breslin.

“I used to see him around,” Eldridge said, remembering back to 1976, when Breslin became a Democratic delegate for then-presidential candidate Morris Udall. Did Breslin and Eldridge like each other?

“Obviously,” Breslin said, deadpan.

When his wife Rosemary died, Eldridge wrote a nice letter. Her husband Larry died and Breslin would call to check in with her.

“The kids would tell me Al Capone was on the phone,” Eldridge said, invoking the famous raspy Breslin voice.

Eventually they agreed to have a coffee date.

“It got broken 10 times. We finally had coffee,” Eldridge recalled. “Six months later, we were married.”

The high-profile pairing happened in a Catholic church, a sign of Breslin’s faith. Eldridge said she thinks of religion in political terms, and mostly as an effective method of controlling people. Still, she’s the first to say that his Catholicism has helped Breslin through tough times, like the deaths of his longtime spouse and two of his children.

Breslin nodded and simply said, “Yes,” when asked if faith helps in tough times.

Breslin spoke as he readied for a trip to the Midwest, where he will write about the trial of Gov. Rod Blagojevich. Breslin sounded wary.

“I don’t want to go to Chicago. What I am going to do out there?” he asked.

Then he mentioned two Chicago greats of the news business, Mike Royko and Studs Turkel, both of whom are now dead.

Eldridge said she’s not someone with regrets, but that she does, as she gets older, long more for greenery than she ever did before. She thinks sometimes of moving away.

“But as soon as I get out of the city,” she said, “I really want to get back.”

And that’s not bullshit.