WEST VILLAGE — "Air will be taken out of tires. License plates removed from unauthorized parkers," warns a sign in a small neighborhood parking lot.
The words are those of the feared and mysterious Bill Gottlieb, who by the time of his death in 1999 had accumulated almost $1 billion worth of West Village real estate, according to the New York Times. The glaring sign is still tacked to Gottlieb’s former residence on Washington and Bank streets, warning drivers tempted by the open lot among the narrow cobble stone streets.
"I think the signs speak to the arrogance of his wealth," said David Zinsser, 61, owner of Automatic Slims, a bar opposite the lot.
Like many others, he had faced Gottlieb’s legal wrath. Gottlieb had sued him for unpaid rent despite a promise of cleared debt when Zinsser was one of his tenants.
Zinsser was reminded of Gottlieb not only by the sign's threatening words, but also by its shabbily worn state.
Zinsser and others in the area recalled how Gottlieb, who drove an old station wagon with blown out windows, was an accidental preservationist of sorts. By refusing to repair many of his 100 plus properties, Gottlieb almost froze the West Village in time.
"As you can see even the sign is all rusted away and beaten up — like his properties," said Zinsser.
Gottlieb’s empire was passed on to his sister, Mollie Bender, before her death in 2007, according to the Villager. Her son and Gottlieb’s nephew, Neil Bender, now runs the massive real estate portfolio as other relatives vie for their slice of the pie, which includes the vacant Northern Dispensary Building on Christopher Street. Some of those properties are now on the market, according to the New York Post.
Gottlieb's company, known as Caribe after a restaurant he owned, did not return a call for comment. Next to its offices on Hudson and Charles streets, another threatening sign looms over its car lot.
No one seems to know when the sign went up. Helen Craig, a West Village resident since 1970, said it was there as long as she can remember. Shoshke-Rayzl Yuni, a musician who has lived in the neighborhood for 23 years, said a previous sign was more tame — "Don’t even think about parking here" — but was replaced by more aggressive words in the years before Gottleib's death.
"It adds character to the neighborhood," Yuni said, looking up at the sign.
Robert “Riley” Fitzsimmons, a Gottlieb tenant for decades, believes Gottlieb would have followed through with his threatening sign. Like Zinsser, he also faced Gottlieb in court in a four-year dispute when the landlord refused to repair his rent controlled apartment after a fire in 1986.
"I had to open the fire place, use the neighbor’s electricity and bring water up every day," Fitzsimmons, 59, said. "It was like camping in your own home."
Gottlieb would often play nasty tricks to weed out low-paying tenants, Fitzsimmons added. And apparently he had a thing for signs.
“One day I came home and there was a sign: 'No Smoking. Public Hallway,'" said Fitzimmons, who is a smoker.
Charles A. Ross, a criminal defense attorney from Charles A. Ross & Associates, said Gottlieb would have had no legal grounds to let out tires or take number plates. He hypothesized that such action could open the door for a lawsuit, or the District Attorney’s office might even consider prosecution, such as a misdemeanor.
An employee of Gottlieb’s company, who did not want to give his name, could not recall an instance of the threat translating into action.
“People like it,” he said. “We always see people taking pictures of it, laughing at it.”
Despite Gottlieb's harsh reputation, as time moves on the memory of the landlord has become more endearing to some of the neighborhood’s longtime residents.
"Once he passed away and his sister took over I kind of missed him," said Fitzsimmons, a bass player with a degree in computer science.
He recalled Gottlieb screaming at him in court, but that very evening lending him $20 so Fitzsimmons could keep drinking.
"He had this ability to separate things,” he said. “I respected that."
Still, Fitzsimmons added: "I think his ghost would come back in a second if he found a way to get me out of my apartment."
