Upper West Side's Level Club: Where residents don't want to leave

Filled with nooks and crannies and ancient symbols carved into the building's exterior fa‡ade and interior hallways, The Level Club at 253 W. 73rd St. could be Manhattan's most mystical and intriguing condominium.

 

It also could be its most beloved. Instead of moving from their 1925 building (constructed by the Masons as a clubhouse), today's residents combine apartments and trade up for bigger units. One bought an adjacent apartment site-unseen. Bruno Bertuccioli, a tenant since the 1980s, fell so hard for the building he spent years writing a book detailing its history.

 

"This structure is the only true-to-size rendering of King Solomon's Temple that exists in the world today," says Bertuccioli, an Italian-born engineer who writes for a hobby. "Hardly anyone in New York knows this building is here. It's an incredible achievement."

 

As soon as buyers discover the historic building, often overshadowed by the neighboring Ansonia, one of New York's most famous residences, they rush to buy and plan to stay.

 

"I tell people I am dying here," says Liz Hartman Musiker, author of "The Smart Girl's Guide to Sports," who with her husband, Bob, recently sold their suburban home for a two-bedroom loft duplex with 18-foot ceilings on the second floor. "We got rid of all our furniture to start fresh here. It makes that much of an impression."

 

No one, however, loves the building more than Larry Schier. The unofficial mayor of the building, Schier was the first person to buy an apartment in the Level Club when it converted to condominiums in 1984.

 

"They hadn't sold anything yet, so they let me see all the apartments," says Schier, who had heard about it the way most people do, from a friend. "I started in the penthouse and ran down all the stairs looking at every apartment in the building. I chose a one-bedroom on the old auditorium floor because of the huge, rounded windows."

 

Seeing every apartment in the building was a good omen for Schier. After a successful career working in a family clothing business, he began selling real estate, becoming one of the Corcoran Group's top salespeople. He ranked No. 1 in their West Side Gallery office for eight years straight. Now a senior vice president, Schier has completed more than 70 deals in the Level Club since 2001.

 

Rocky Avgustini, the Level Club's ex-super, who eventually bought his apartment in the building from Schier, suggested he go into real estate.

 

"Rocky said I would be good because I live here, I know everything about the building, and I love people," says Schier, who estimates that only 15% of his current sales revenue comes from the Level Club. "I made a sale my first day at Corcoran. It was like I tasted success, the art of the deal. The money, too. It was such a rush."

  

Schier has since combined apartments to create one of the most majestic and well-designed living spaces in all New York. It's a selling tool for home hunters he brings to see the units for sale.

 

"It takes a certain kind of buyer with creativity to feel comfortable in this building," says Schier. "Every apartment is different. The shapes are different, some have less light but also less noise. Other apartments have a weird corner alcove or oddly shaped windows. I show them mine so they can see what is possible."

 

Schier's 2,800-square-foot two-bedroom is an open living area with three 12-foot rounded windows overlooking a row of historic townhouses on 73rd St. There are seven levels in his apartment alone, with an office area and guest bedroom looking down to the naturally lit living area and marble-coated entrance.

 

A wooden floating staircase leads from the master bedroom to another office area. A chandelier with glass found in a Roman palace is an apartment centerpiece. There are three flat screens in the master bathroom adjacent to the large tub. Lex Luthor couldn't live better if he tried.

 

When Schier walks the hallways of the building, neighbors greet him with hugs. He likes everyone who has bought here, he says, and it's likely he showed them the building.

 

On the sixth floor, by an old fireplace in the hallway where the Masons built a smoking lounge, Schier runs into Geoffrey Day, who just renovated a two-bedroom. A Scotsman, Day runs public relations for Mercedes- Benz. Day looked for an apartment for three months before buying his Level Club home in one day.

 

"Everything else we saw just seemed so cookie-cutter and normal," says Day, who found the building when he walked by and was directed to Schier by the doorman. "It has so many twists and turns. The people are unique as well. My neighbor could be Borat's mother. All she ever says is, 'It's very nice.'"

 

So what is it about this pocket of New York living that makes people buy fast and stay long? Some cite the symbolism on the 18-story building or the layouts of the 160 apartments, each one different. Even the hallways have different shapes. One floor has a hidden apartment behind a stairwell. Some units have outdoor space. One buyer found a window behind a Sheetrock wall.

 

Renowned for brickwork and stone carving, the Masons built this structure for entertainment activities. The name "Level" comes from leveler, a nickname for Masons, who founded their organization to improve man's behavior through integrity and sound living. Masonic symbols such as the Star of David, the all-seeing eye, an hourglass, a level, a beehive and the Bible are carved in stone in repetition all over the building. Two pillars topped by globes that represent the "strength of God's will" stand directly above the building entrance.

 

Originally, the building had a swimming pool, bowling alley, 4,000-seat auditorium, dining halls, gymnasium, racquetball courts, a club floor, billiards room and rooftop gardens. Those are gone now, but the exterior is perfectly preserved. The building was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1984.

 

In some ways, the structure's history mirrors that of the upper West Side. In the Depression, the Masons were forced to sell their clubhouse after just two years. The Level Club was converted into a weekly hotel for men in the 1930s and then a kosher hotel in the 1940s and 1950s.

 

In the 1960s, it struggled as a single-room-occupancy hotel. In the 1970s, when the streets around 72nd and Broadway were a frequent hangout for prostitutes, alcoholics and drug addicts, a substance-abuse center known as Phoenix House took it over.

 

Selling the building for $9 million, Phoenix House used the funds to establish three centers in the tristate area. The developers of Level Club began turning its large common areas into odd-shaped apartments. It attracted buyers quickly.

 

"Our first apartment here looked out on a gargoyle," says Jane Schwartz, who initially bought her daughter an apartment in the building before buying a one-bedroom and then the adjacent two-bedroom. "The entire story of the building just took us in."

 

A 1,001-square-foot one-bedroom is on the market for $1,195,000. One-bedrooms rent for slightly shy of $4,000 and studios rent for $2,250.

 

Schier can be picky when he shows the building to prospective buyers. When he holds open houses at other locations, he gauges the boredom level that home hunters have for "normal" apartments.

 

"I can always tell if someone is right for the building," says Schier. "They don't like regular layouts and they have a good imagination. With some people, I can tell right away. It's those people who buy in a day."