But he still knows how to tie one on.

"How do you say 'cheers' in the Jewish language?" the flashy forward asked guests at the opening of his new Tribeca bar and restaurant Warren 77 on Friday, May 15.

"L'chaim!" the crowd replied.

"There ya go," said Mr. Avery, who further encouraged attendees to "just keep buying drinks because I didn't open a fucking bar for nothing."

Pro hockey's preeminent bad boy gave props to his partners, Chris Miller and Matt Abramcyk, for their four months of work in building out the space. Mr. Abramcyk told the Daily Transom the place was still covered with sawdust only hours before the grand opening.

Mr. Avery may turn out to be a more hands-on style of operator than most celebrity restaurateurs. Early in the evening, when his partners complained about the level of lighting, he promptly hopped up onto a wobbly stool and unscrewed sizzling bulbs with his bare fingers.

Mr. Avery and his partners had traveled to the Hockey Hall of Fame in Toronto for inspiration in designing the venue.

Hung with framed photos of past Rangers greats and a brightly illuminated goalie mask greeting visitors at the entrance on Warren Street, the new watering hole might quickly be categorized as a sports bar. But that's a bit of a misnomer, according to Mr. Miller; it's "a bar steeped in athleticism and the history of New York," he told the Daily Transom.

Five flatscreen TVs lining the walls are intermittingly hidden behind retractable screens to avoid the sort of flickering "sports soup" you find at most venues of that ilk, he added.

It's the type of place you'd expect to see scruffy brutes quaffing pints of Molson Canadian while their waifish girlfriends gingerly sip flutes of sancerre.

"I don't get treated this nice at most places," said New York Post hockey writer Larry Brooks, whom Mr. Avery greeted with a clink of glasses and some good-humored teasing.

"You don't dress this nice at work," the former Vogue intern told the typically slovenly sportswriter, who showed up in a tucked-in button-up shirt and slacks.

Rangers goalie Henrik Lundquist, dressed in a white T-shirt and fedora, opened the party with a set of cover songs on his acoustic guitar and later huddled with former teammate Brendan Shanahan and Rangers fan John McEnroe at a reserved booth in the front. Another former teammate of Mr. Avery's, Brad Richards, made the trip from Dallas for the festivities.

Disc jockey and impresario Paul Sevigny, meanwhile, drank from a miniature Stanley Cup at the bar. "Tasted better in '94," he told the Daily Transom, referring to the Rangers' last championship. (Asked what can be done to reopen the still-shuttered Beatrice Inn, which he co-owns with Mr. Abramcyk, Mr. Sevigny said, "Pray a lot.")

Nearby, nightlife vet Amy Sacco mingled among the many athletes.

"I met Sean Avery and Brendan Shanahan at the Rose Bar two years ago," Ms. Sacco told the Daily Transom. "I looked to my right at these two handsome men I’ve never seen with a bunch a friends. I figured one, at least, is married and the other’s gay, or whatever," she joked. "And they said, ‘Would you like to come with us to this place called Bungalow 8?’ I was like, ‘Wow. Okay!’"(Ms. Sacco is Bungalow's owner.) "We've been friends ever since. I took them to the Met ball that year. They taught me about hockey."

Now a die-hard puckhead, Ms. Sacco didn't hesistate to offer her post-season analysis of what went wrong with the Rangers.

"They should never have not re-signed Shanahan," she said. "Biggest mistake of their lives."

Pesky New York Rangers forward and former Vogue intern Sean Avery is getting into the bar business—and no, the new nightspot will not be called "Sloppy Seconds."

The popular, if somewhat controversial, 28-year-old Broadway Blueshirt is partnering with Beatrice Inn proprietor Matt Abramcyk in opening an intimate bar and restaurant called Warren 77, located at 77 Warren Street in Tribeca.

The pair have been friends for some time. Mr. Abramcyk recently told The New York Times about his experience facing off against the Rangers star on a backyard rink at the Westchester County home of Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon.

Mr. Avery is often spotted at Mr. Abramcyk's various hot spots. He and teammate Brandon Dubinsky celebrated the Rangers' 4-1 victory over the rival Philadelphia Flyers on March 15 at Mr. Abramcyk's other bar, Smith & Mills, on North Moore Street.

Mr. Abramcyk has described the new venture to Daily Transom as a "sports bar meets country club."

The cozy 1,260-square-foot venue will have six tables seating up to 36 in the restaurant area and five tables seating up to 14 in the bar, according to papers filed with the local Community Board 1, which has approved the venue's liquor license. It will be open from 5 p.m. to 1 a.m. on weekdays, closing at 2 a.m. on weekends.

Mr. Avery is not the first pro hockey player to parlay his skills and name recognition into the hospitality industry. The fashionable forward follows in the footsteps of fellow National Hockey League stand-outs Chris Chelios, owner of Cheli’s Chili Bar in Detroit, and Shayne Corson, who previously opened a sports bar, called Shayne’s 27, in Montreal. (The fictional Stan Mikita’s Donuts, meanwhile, only existed in the Mike Myers and Dana Carvey 1992 comedy Wayne’s World.)

He and his mom, who led an enterprise of illegal New York health clinics and a billing company that filed a decade’s worth of bogus claims with over 60 insurance companies, had to pay $4 million after pleading guilty to corruption charges. But they’ll be all right: That Central Park West apartment has sold for $5.15 million, according to city records.

The condo has 15 windows, a two-zone air-conditioning and humidification system, an entry foyer “comprised of Jerusalem Gold Limestone,” a master bathroom with an oversize steam shower, a kitchen with Italian porcelain floors, and, of course, an apartment video security system, according to the listing with Brown Harris Stevens’ John Burger, one of the city’s top brokers.

“I had no idea. I had absolutely no idea. Complete news to me,” said Mr. Burger, reached on vacation at a beach in Southampton, when told about the Pustilniks’ scheme. “These are not people I know well.”

He said he looks up his clients on Google only when he’s dealing with co-ops, where boards can be strict. And besides: “They couldn’t be a nicer couple,” he said. “What can I say? I’m shocked. That’s just the weirdest thing I’ve heard.”

The family, who was also reportedly under investigation for ties to Russian organized crime, spent most of their clinics’ revenue on cars, a Catskills house, and the Central Park West condo. They did meticulous work on the apartment, too, Mr. Burger said.

According to records, the apartment was bought by New York Rangers center Chris Drury, a former rookie of the year, nicknamed Captain Clutch.

The phone at the Pustilniks’ apartment has been disconnected; calls to their Catskills house were not answered; and Mr. Burger said the couple had no comment. According to deeds, Mr. Pustilnik, his wife and his mother still own a million-dollar Brooklyn condo, bought in 2003.

A spokesperson for the Manhattan district attorney’s office said cases against all three are still pending, and a court date is set for September.

mabelson@observer.com

“She’s going to gut it and renovate it,” said listing broker Beverly Feingold, a vice president at Halstead. “It could just be a hobby! I don’t know.”

City records list the buyer as GH Trust and “Grace Hightower, as Trustee.” (Her trust also owns a 1,653-square-foot apartment high up in the Trump Palace, 20 blocks south.)

The townhouse sales deed indicates that Ms. Hightower signed and closed on a contract in a single day—Oct. 3—which is blissfully swift. The couple’s newly renovated C.P.W. apartment closed 10 days later.

The 89th Street seller is Averil Logan, who had owned the place since 1974. Her daughter, also listed on the deed, is the actress Bellina Logan. Ms. Logan played a nurse on 26 episodes of E.R. and, as these things go, appeared in a short-lived TV show called Central Park West.

“Keeping this within the acting community makes it feel like it was a meant-to-be situation,” said Ms. Feingold. “There was a bidding war,” she added.

But the couple’s three-story townhouse will need some major work, including (but not limited to) a new kitchen plus new bathrooms. And there’s a master bedroom with a wood-burning fireplace—which, according to Ms. Feingold’s listing, could be “made usable.”

If Ms. Hightower and Mr. De Niro aren’t eager to fix up their fireplace and powder rooms and eatery—and if their minds change about that $20.9 million C.P.W. co-op—they’ll have Mr. De Niro’s new Downtown Hotel in Tribeca.

Lundqvist Scores on West 83rd

Henrik Lundqvist, Swedish gold medalist and goalie extraordinaire and recent New York Press cover boy, has joined the cadre of Rangers hockey stars nestling into the Upper West Side.

According to city records, Mr. Lundqvist paid $1.75 million for a combined-unit condo at the Bromley on West 83rd, where he’ll live two floors below the legendary Rangers defenseman Brian Leetch, a nine-time All-Star.

Earlier this month, the weekly New York Press put Mr. Lundqvist’s handsome Scandinavian mug on its cover, calling the 24-year-old (and second-year player) Manhattan’s “best-kept sports secret.”

As far as enigmas go, it’s more mysterious that rugged hockey stars have congregated on the furiously unathletic Upper West Side. According to the Rangers Web site, star scorer Jaromir Jagr rooms with teammate Petr Prucha. Reportedly, old vets Brendan Shanahan and Martin Straka are nearby, too—and this February, The New York Times reported that Czech stars Martin Rucinsky and Petr Sykora live in the same U.W.S. building. (They’ve both since left the Rangers.)

Even though Mr. Lundqvist led the Swedish national hockey squad to a first-place Olympic finish in Turin, he may treasure his neighborly connections. “It’s almost like you’re on your own,” he told The Press about the goalie’s solitary position. “Yes, like you’re lonely.”

The New York Sun reported the apartment’s sale earlier this month, though the article didn’t name the buyer and misreported the purchase price by $240,000.

Take a Seat!

When the sun goes down, furniture man Burton B. Staniar gets some lush light in his new $9 million apartment at 907 Fifth Avenue.

When asked about his favorite part of the eight-room apartment, Mr. Staniar, the chairman of Knoll, said: “The light from the park. You get a great sense of Hopper light as you look out—you know the artist?”

We do.

“Particularly this time of year, when the sun is lower, the angle of the sun in the winter provides that sort of evening light … a wonderful light.”

That picturesque sundown once belonged to Central Park Conservancy founding trustee (and mighty old stockbroker) Richard Gilder. Last year, he listed the place with Stribling’s Judith McKay Durham for $10.9 million, which means that Mr. Staniar got a $1.9 million bargain.

He can put that money into stocking his wet bar, which, according to the Stribling listing, can be found in the reading room. There’s also a 37-foot-long gallery that leads to a living room and library (both with fireplaces).

Does Mr. Staniar bring home wares from the workplace? He admits he’s decorated his new library with “Knoll pieces and antiques, side by side.”

Incidentally, his favorite furniture in the library is Mies van der Rohe’s X-shaped Barcelona. (It’s chrome with dark brown leather.) But decor decisions are left to his new spouse, the interior designer Nancy Staniar. “Talented wives are a great help,” he said.

It isn’t clear from city records where Mr. Gilder will live next, but it’ll probably be someplace nice. In 2001, he reportedly sold his apartment up at 927 Fifth to the banker Bruce Wasserstein. Mr. Wasserstein, who owns New York magazine, paid $15 million, then combined the place with his $11.5 million apartment on the floor below.

Welcome to the Dollhouse

The boutique-hotel developer Stephen Brighenti has sold his storybook duplex in the 110-year-old Berwind Mansion for $4.7 million.

“Our daughter felt like Eloise at the Plaza, living in a museum-quality maisonette,” Mr. Brighenti said.

Coal tycoon James Berwind built the Beaux-Arts mansion at 828 Fifth Avenue, on the corner of 64th Street. In the 1980’s, it was divided into apartments: Mr. Brighenti’s old duplex takes up the eastern half of the mansion’s lower and first floors; the west side belongs to the septuagenarian fashion designer Adolfo.

Are there still tycoon-like touches? “In my unit, I had over 1,000 pieces of gilded bronze—which is what we called them, because we thought they were bronzes,” said Mr. Brighenti. “But when we started to clean them, we saw they were gold-plated.”

Besides that bounty of gilt wall details, which adorns the mansion’s library, the apartment has a 4,000-bottle brick wine cellar, a glass conservatory, plus a garden outside the three bedrooms. Boutique-hotel developers are the new coal moguls!

The buyer of the Fifth Avenue apartment is listed pseudonymously in city records as Twin-828 Fifth L.L.C. Twin-828 is not a stranger to the place: A sales deed shows that the limited-liability company paid $9.75 million in June 2005 for a third-floor duplex.

If there’s any money left over, that buyer can pay another $9.495 million for the mansion’s parlor floor, on the market with Brown Harris Stevens managing director Paula Del Nunzio.

According to her listing, that ceaselessly ornate apartment is “comprised of the vast original gold ballroom.” Reportedly, Madonna once spent 15 minutes face-up on the floor, staring at the 18-foot ceilings.

If the Twin-828 mystery buyer meets the $9.495 million price tag, he will have a five-floor, 32-room Gilded Age mini-cosmos. When asked about that possibility, a source with knowledge of the Berwind Mansion said: “It’s a highly pregnant question!”

The listing brokers of the ground-floor duplex—Sotheby’s International Realty vice president Lois Nasser and Stribling executive vice president Kirk Henckels—wouldn’t comment for this story, and neither would Ms. Del Nunzio.

In September 2005, those three teamed up when Mr. Brighenti tried marketing his duplex as a “possible” combined unit with the parlor floor. “There was actually equal interest,” he said—meaning interest in the duplex alone and bundled with the golden ballroom—“and it just happened that this particular buyer purchased mine first.”

Why didn’t the hotelier hold out for the combo sale? “It’s a little more complicated to sell two apartments simultaneously,” he sighed.

“She’s going to gut it and renovate it,” said listing broker Beverly Feingold, a vice president at Halstead. “It could just be a hobby! I don’t know.”

City records list the buyer as GH Trust and “Grace Hightower, as Trustee.” (Her trust also owns a 1,653-square-foot apartment high up in the Trump Palace, 20 blocks south.)

The townhouse sales deed indicates that Ms. Hightower signed and closed on a contract in a single day—Oct. 3—which is blissfully swift. The couple’s newly renovated C.P.W. apartment closed 10 days later.

The 89th Street seller is Averil Logan, who had owned the place since 1974. Her daughter, also listed on the deed, is the actress Bellina Logan. Ms. Logan played a nurse on 26 episodes of E.R. and, as these things go, appeared in a short-lived TV show called Central Park West.

“Keeping this within the acting community makes it feel like it was a meant-to-be situation,” said Ms. Feingold. “There was a bidding war,” she added.

But the couple’s three-story townhouse will need some major work, including (but not limited to) a new kitchen plus new bathrooms. And there’s a master bedroom with a wood-burning fireplace—which, according to Ms. Feingold’s listing, could be “made usable.”

If Ms. Hightower and Mr. De Niro aren’t eager to fix up their fireplace and powder rooms and eatery—and if their minds change about that $20.9 million C.P.W. co-op—they’ll have Mr. De Niro’s new Downtown Hotel in Tribeca.

Lundqvist Scores on West 83rd

Henrik Lundqvist, Swedish gold medalist and goalie extraordinaire and recent New York Press cover boy, has joined the cadre of Rangers hockey stars nestling into the Upper West Side.

According to city records, Mr. Lundqvist paid $1.75 million for a combined-unit condo at the Bromley on West 83rd, where he’ll live two floors below the legendary Rangers defenseman Brian Leetch, a nine-time All-Star.

Earlier this month, the weekly New York Press put Mr. Lundqvist’s handsome Scandinavian mug on its cover, calling the 24-year-old (and second-year player) Manhattan’s “best-kept sports secret.”

As far as enigmas go, it’s more mysterious that rugged hockey stars have congregated on the furiously unathletic Upper West Side. According to the Rangers Web site, star scorer Jaromir Jagr rooms with teammate Petr Prucha. Reportedly, old vets Brendan Shanahan and Martin Straka are nearby, too—and this February, The New York Times reported that Czech stars Martin Rucinsky and Petr Sykora live in the same U.W.S. building. (They’ve both since left the Rangers.)

Even though Mr. Lundqvist led the Swedish national hockey squad to a first-place Olympic finish in Turin, he may treasure his neighborly connections. “It’s almost like you’re on your own,” he told The Press about the goalie’s solitary position. “Yes, like you’re lonely.”

The New York Sun reported the apartment’s sale earlier this month, though the article didn’t name the buyer and misreported the purchase price by $240,000.

Take a Seat!

When the sun goes down, furniture man Burton B. Staniar gets some lush light in his new $9 million apartment at 907 Fifth Avenue.

When asked about his favorite part of the eight-room apartment, Mr. Staniar, the chairman of Knoll, said: “The light from the park. You get a great sense of Hopper light as you look out—you know the artist?”

We do.

“Particularly this time of year, when the sun is lower, the angle of the sun in the winter provides that sort of evening light … a wonderful light.”

That picturesque sundown once belonged to Central Park Conservancy founding trustee (and mighty old stockbroker) Richard Gilder. Last year, he listed the place with Stribling’s Judith McKay Durham for $10.9 million, which means that Mr. Staniar got a $1.9 million bargain.

He can put that money into stocking his wet bar, which, according to the Stribling listing, can be found in the reading room. There’s also a 37-foot-long gallery that leads to a living room and library (both with fireplaces).

Does Mr. Staniar bring home wares from the workplace? He admits he’s decorated his new library with “Knoll pieces and antiques, side by side.”

Incidentally, his favorite furniture in the library is Mies van der Rohe’s X-shaped Barcelona. (It’s chrome with dark brown leather.) But decor decisions are left to his new spouse, the interior designer Nancy Staniar. “Talented wives are a great help,” he said.

It isn’t clear from city records where Mr. Gilder will live next, but it’ll probably be someplace nice. In 2001, he reportedly sold his apartment up at 927 Fifth to the banker Bruce Wasserstein. Mr. Wasserstein, who owns New York magazine, paid $15 million, then combined the place with his $11.5 million apartment on the floor below.

Welcome to the Dollhouse

The boutique-hotel developer Stephen Brighenti has sold his storybook duplex in the 110-year-old Berwind Mansion for $4.7 million.

“Our daughter felt like Eloise at the Plaza, living in a museum-quality maisonette,” Mr. Brighenti said.

Coal tycoon James Berwind built the Beaux-Arts mansion at 828 Fifth Avenue, on the corner of 64th Street. In the 1980’s, it was divided into apartments: Mr. Brighenti’s old duplex takes up the eastern half of the mansion’s lower and first floors; the west side belongs to the septuagenarian fashion designer Adolfo.

Are there still tycoon-like touches? “In my unit, I had over 1,000 pieces of gilded bronze—which is what we called them, because we thought they were bronzes,” said Mr. Brighenti. “But when we started to clean them, we saw they were gold-plated.”

Besides that bounty of gilt wall details, which adorns the mansion’s library, the apartment has a 4,000-bottle brick wine cellar, a glass conservatory, plus a garden outside the three bedrooms. Boutique-hotel developers are the new coal moguls!

The buyer of the Fifth Avenue apartment is listed pseudonymously in city records as Twin-828 Fifth L.L.C. Twin-828 is not a stranger to the place: A sales deed shows that the limited-liability company paid $9.75 million in June 2005 for a third-floor duplex.

If there’s any money left over, that buyer can pay another $9.495 million for the mansion’s parlor floor, on the market with Brown Harris Stevens managing director Paula Del Nunzio.

According to her listing, that ceaselessly ornate apartment is “comprised of the vast original gold ballroom.” Reportedly, Madonna once spent 15 minutes face-up on the floor, staring at the 18-foot ceilings.

If the Twin-828 mystery buyer meets the $9.495 million price tag, he will have a five-floor, 32-room Gilded Age mini-cosmos. When asked about that possibility, a source with knowledge of the Berwind Mansion said: “It’s a highly pregnant question!”

The listing brokers of the ground-floor duplex—Sotheby’s International Realty vice president Lois Nasser and Stribling executive vice president Kirk Henckels—wouldn’t comment for this story, and neither would Ms. Del Nunzio.

In September 2005, those three teamed up when Mr. Brighenti tried marketing his duplex as a “possible” combined unit with the parlor floor. “There was actually equal interest,” he said—meaning interest in the duplex alone and bundled with the golden ballroom—“and it just happened that this particular buyer purchased mine first.”

Why didn’t the hotelier hold out for the combo sale? “It’s a little more complicated to sell two apartments simultaneously,” he sighed.

The College of Staten Island hosts a dedication and daylong discussion celebrating the legacy of State Senator John Marchi.

Council Members endorse federal legislation that would create a cabinet-level Department of Peace and Nonviolence on the steps of City Hall.

Bill Thompson releases a report on price-gouging by the auto insurance industry at 1 Centre Street.

AIDS activists mark World AIDS Day, rallying near the offices of Hillary Clinton, calling on her to address health care worker shortages in Africa.

New York Rangers players visit families of servicemen serving in Iraq at Fort Hamilton Military Base in Brooklyn.

New Yorkers for Immigration Control and Enforcement hold a memorial for slain actress Adrienne Shelly.

Asia Society hosts a debate entitled "A democratically elected Hamas is still a terrorist organization" at their headquarters.

Tom Suozzi signs an executive order to use green cleaning products in all county facilities in Mineola.

Babylon hosts a public hearing on the adoption of green building codes in Lindenhurst.

Stonewall Democrats host their monthly meeting at the LGBT Center featuring Jim McGreevey and (depending on scheduling) Anthony Weiner.

—Nicole Brydson

He was an up-from-the-bootstraps New York City immigrant, who suffered a crippling disease at 17 that remained a mystery in Harlem Hospital, until one of his sisters got him admitted as a charity case to the Mayo Clinic. There he was diagnosed with osteomyelitis, and underwent a series of operations that put him back on his feet. Four of his five sisters died before he was an adult.

He was born in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario (and fifty years later, when Times sports reporter Robin Herman identified hockey player Phil Esposito as the most famous scion of that city, he was quick to correct her.) His family moved to the Bronx when he was a boy. He discovered journalism at City College, where he was the editor of the campus newspaper, and then the college correspondent for The Times. When I became his clerk in 1973, after a stint as the Columbia College correspondent, he told me that his first official act as metropolitan editor had been to raise the monthly stipend of the City College Correspondent to the amount paid to the Columbia reporter.

He was brilliant, arrogant, and incredibly insecure. He told a friend that during his first five years as the paper’s top editor, he came in every day expecting to be fired. But it turned out that Arthur (Punch) Sulzberger meant what he said in the inscription of a photo that was the first thing you saw when you entered Rosenthal’s office: “To all the years ahead.”

His nine years as a foreign correspondent in India, Poland, Switzerland and Japan earned him fan letters from young reporters like Gay Talese, and caught the attention of executive editor Turner Catledge, who lured him back to New York to be the metropolitan editor in 1963.

From then on, until he left the newsroom, Arthur Gelb was his indispensable deputy, spewing ideas like a volcano. Together, with some crucial help from Seymour Topping, they transformed the Times from an authoritative but stodgy two-section paper into the four-section powerhouse which revived its finances, without seriously compromising its commitment to hard news.

Rosenthal became managing editor in 1969, the year after Clay Felker started New York magazine. Later, Rosenthal bragged about stealing all of Clay’s ideas for service journalism, as he transformed the paper into a food-fashion-and-furniture-friendly outlet. But the Timesman never succumbed to other the temptations of the New Journalism.

“I admired him beyond measure because he took a principled position when it was unpopular and nobody else was taking it, and it saved The Times then,” Renata Adler said today, referring to Rosenthal’s commitment to fact. “He didn’t give in to what journalism was becoming … It was becoming many things that were wrong; but one was a vehicle for the vanity of the reporter. And he didn’t allow that. He also wanted reporting that could be substantiated in some way beyond ‘according to an anonymous official.’”

(In one of their periodic strokes of genius, Rosenthal and Mr. Gelb replaced film critic Bosley Crowther with Ms. Adler in 1968. She only stayed a year, but her copy revolutionized what became acceptable as cultural criticism in the newspaper.)

As editor of The Washington Post during most of Rosenthal’s tenure, Ben Bradlee was his principal competitor. “He gave the Times the best years that they ever had,” Mr. Bradlee said today. “By adding all those sections, he completed The Times; he presided over a real revolution in the paper; and they became as good as they thought they were. I wanted to beat his brains out, but he was a lovely guy, and I really liked him a lot.”

And while everyone remembers that The Times was badly beaten by Woodward and Bernstein during the first two years of Watergate, nearly everyone has forgotten that after Rosenthal hired Sy Hersh to cover the scandal, during the eight months before Nixon resigned, The Times matched The Post on the story, almost scoop for scoop.

Norm Pearlstine, who competed against Rosenthal as the editor of The Wall Street Journal, called him “the most brilliant, most important editor of my lifetime. And I say that despite the fact that the very strengths that Bob McFadden captured this morning also meant that some very talented people chose not work there—and I was the beneficiary of that. He combined extraordinary focus and dedication with immense intellectual curiosity. He so merged his own life with that of the paper, that he was intolerant of people who were unwilling to do the same. That probably meant that he lost some people that The Times wished they hadn’t lost--including some who went back after he left.”

When I worked for Mr. Pearlstine, he ran the most honest newspaper I have ever written for. But Rosenthal had the best news judgement of any editor I have ever known. Later on, Rosenthal’s fierce neo-conservatism became a hallmark of his Op-ed column, but his politics rarely affected the way he covered the news. (His personal lunch club—known informally as the “Rosenthal for President club”—consisted of Oz Elliot, Irving Kristol, Bill Buckley, Dick Clurman, Arthur Gelb, and Teddy White.

“The food at Buckley's was always delicious,” Mr. Gelb told me today. “But after a while I stopped going because one or two of the guests were so full of themselves that eventually I lost my appetite.”

Seymour Topping, who became managing editor when Rosenthal was promoted to executive editor, chaired all the page one news conferences. “From the early 70's right up to my retirement in 86, I never saw an example where his conservative bias influenced the play of the news,” Mr. Topping told me today.

That was the way in which he famously kept the newspaper: straight.

But he wasn’t above hyping, especially when he was the metropolitan editor. The story he promoted about thirty-eight witnesses ignoring the screams of Kitty Genovese when she was murdered was widely disputed by reporters who had actually investigated the scene on the day after the murder. They said that the victim had been pulled out of sight by her attacker, and most of her neighbors thought they were listening to a domestic dispute. Even The Times itself cast doubt on the story in a 3,000 word piece that ran in the City Section in 2004.

Rosenthal’s other problem was the way his close friendships with the rich and famous sometimes resulted in odd distortions of the newspaper’s standards. When John Leonard was the paper’s daily book critic, Rosenthal frequently edited him. And when Mr. Leonard panned a book by Rosenthal’s close friend, Betty Friedan, the frequency of Mr. Leonard’s reviews was suddenly cut in half.

No one received more special attention than Jerzy Kosinski, who accompanied Rosenthal on late night visits to some of the city’s more unusual venues. When the Village Voice suggested in 1982 that Mr. Kosinski might not have been the sole author of all of his novels, The Times responded with an unprecedented 6,500-word apologia for Mr. Kosinski, which started across the top of the front page of the Arts and Leisure section. Among other things, the odd article alleged that the piece in the Voice had been indirectly inspired by a smear campaign conducted by the Polish Communist government.

By then, I had left The Times to become the press critic at Newsweek. When I described The Times piece about Kosinski as “the most dramatic evidence to date” of Rosenthal’s willingness “to use the power of the Times to reward friends and punish enemies, Rosenthal’s reaction was beyond apoplexy, according to one of his assistants.

Rosenthal also had problems with gay people, though I never thought I was affected by that, because I was still firmly in the closet when I worked at The Times. Walter Clemons was not so lucky. When Clemons was clearly the best candidate to fill a slot as one of the paper’s daily book critics in 1970, Rosenthal passed over him after Christopher Lehmann-Haupt told the editor that Mr. Clemons was gay.

“I was outraged and hurt, and thought, What has this got to do with anything?” Clemons remembered.

On the other hand, when Rosenthal started dating Shirley Lord, the beauty editor at Vogue, more gay people entered his social circle, and he became more comfortable with them. In January, 1993, he even used his column to come out in favor of Bill Clinton’s short-lived proposal to allow gay people to serve openly in the military.

Rosenthal was famously quotable, although competing publications weren’t always smart enough to use his comments. When a Watergate tape revealed that Richard Nixon had said, “I don’t give a shit what happens, I want you all to stonewall it,” The Times printed shit for the first time, though only in the text of the tape, and not in the accompanying news story.

When a Newsweek reporter called Rosenthal to ask if this was a seismic change in the paper’s standards, he replied, “No. We’ll only take shit from the President.”

But the magazine never printed that.

Much more widely circulated was his reaction when it was revealed that Times reporter Laura Foreman had been sleeping with Pennsylvania state Sen. Henry J. "Buddy" Cianfrani, when she had been covering the politician for the Philadelphia Inquirer. “I don’t care if my reporters are fucking elephants,” said Rosenthall, “as long as they aren’t covering the circus.” Then he fired Foreman.

Washington correspondent Steve Weisman was one of many Timesmen who remembered Rosenthal with affection yesterday. Shortly after Rosenthal became an op-ed columnist, he and his new wife, Shirley Lord, visited Weisman in India, a place Rosenthal had loved ever since he lived there as a correspondent.

Messrs. Weisman, Rosenthal and Ms. Lord went to the New Delhi train station at eleven o’clock at night. “It was just mobbed,” Mr. Weisman remembered, “with homeless people camped out, cooking their dinners with their families. It smelled of everything, and Abe just looked at it and said, ‘I love this.’ He just embraced things that people don’t embrace.”

After an overnight trip on the train, the party transferred to a car to go up into the mountains to interview the Dali Lama. “I say this with all affection,” said Mr. Weisman. “It was very sobering to be in the presence of two people who thought they were God.”

Could it be that the New York sports fan has a bigger and softer heart than most people realize? If so, some journalistic revisionism would seem in order.

Especially in recent years, New York sports fans have been portrayed as a collective version of George Steinbrenner, the principal owner of the New York Yankees and a man who believes he is entitled to annual championships. New York sports fans seemingly spend their non-spectating hours plotting ways to lure every athlete of note away from scrubby minor-league cities-you know, Boston, Los Angeles, Atlanta-in order that they might deliver more championships to the world's greatest city, capital of the universe, home of champions, etc.

Enabling this attitude is the New York tabloid sports journalist, who has never met a high-caliber athlete who shouldn't be traded immediately to a New York team. The New York tabloid sports reporter is the jock world's version of George W. Bush's neocons: They, too, seek global domination, by force if necessary.

And so baseball's Yankees and, less successfully, the Mets annually purchase the services of stars from other cities in order to please fans who demand nothing less than championship machines. Similarly, football's Giants schemed to get the services of college football's best quarterback, Eli Manning, so that he would not waste his talent in some terrible backwater like San Diego. Hockey's Rangers have spent a good portion of Charles Dolan's millions in pursuit of players whose skills would be lost on the denizens of Philadelphia or, God forbid, Montreal. While these efforts have not always produced the intended results, they certainly have furthered the notion of the New York sports fan as a demanding sort, accustomed to winning, impatient with losers.

And then there is Phil Mickelson, New York's favorite golfer and the runner-up at this year's U.S. Open here at Shinnecock Hills Golf Club.

From the moment Mr. Mickelson ripped into his first tee shot on June 17, he was greeted with the kind of adulation New York generally reserves for, well, winners. Like Derek Jeter, or Mark Messier, or Lawrence Taylor. Or that other famous golfer, what's his name-Woods?

The crowd that followed Mr. Mickelson from hole to hole was larger and louder than the escort provided Mr. Woods, the former front-runner. And these were hardly the sort of fly-by-night fans who might be expected to abandon their hero if he faltered midway into the championship (which he didn't-he waited until the 71st hole of the 72-hole event). They followed him up and down hills, through fescue and brush, with the sun beating down on their necks, following him with the fervor of the pious on the trail of a prophet. And these were fans steeped in the Phil Mickelson story-as Mr. Mickelson strode up a hill leading to the perilous green at No. 11, a fan with leather for lungs yelled out, "Win it for Amy!" This reference to his wife, who almost died in childbirth last year, prompted Mr. Mickelson to display an emotion not always seen in championship golf: He laughed. Good God, he seemed to be enjoying himself! Does that other fellow-the one with all those championships-ever laugh in the midst of championship golf?

In the end, Mr. Mickelson didn't win it for Amy or for anybody else. He finished second, which until last April-when he won the Masters at the somewhat advanced age of 33 for his first major championship-was the story of his life. He had finished second in two other U.S. Opens, including the championship played a few miles away at Bethpage State Park in 2002. That's where the love affair between New York and Mr. Mickelson started. Back then, he was the perennial runner-up, the guy with game who just couldn't get it done when it mattered, seemingly destined to be remembered as a good player who had the misfortune to hit his peak at a time when that fellow Mr. Woods came along.

And the New York crowds loved him, even though rooting for Phil Mickelson in 2002 was something like rooting for the Boston Red Sox. Or, for that matter, for the Brooklyn Dodgers, circa 1954.

Of course, the Dodgers finally had their day in 1955, and Mr. Mickelson finally had his in April.

The Dodgers moved away shortly after winning their only major title in Brooklyn. Mr. Mickelson, on the other hand, will be back in two years, when the Open is contested at Winged Foot in Westchester County.

You can hear the roars already.

This is apparently the 23-year-old's first New York apartment purchase. Previously, he'd been living at a rental building at 172 East Seventh Street. The listing broker on his new permanent digs, Mariko Kamata of Douglas Elliman, declined to confirm or comment on the deal, but offered a few words about the apartment and the building.

"It's a unique condo loft," said Ms. Kamata, "and the building has a rooftop garden."

Mr. Moretti and the twice-married Ms. Barrymore, who have been dating for over a year, are denying rumors that they are engaged. Since the Strokes recent return from a tour in Japan, Mr. Moretti and his Charlie's Angels girlfriend have been spotted by paparazzi at various Manhattan nightspots.

The American Felt Building, the former headquarters of a major textile company, was converted into loft-style apartments in 1984. Mr. Moretti's unit has 12-foot ceilings, a wood-burning fireplace, oak strip floors, three exposures, full skyline views and-befitting a rocker like Mr. Moretti-a built-in stereo system.

TWO PLACES CHANGE HANDS AT ENVIED 820 FIFTH

One of the country's most successful home-builders may soon be filling a vacancy at one of the city's most exclusive co-op buildings. Ara K. Hovnanian, the president and chief executive of Hovnanian Enterprises Inc., has signed a contract for around $20 million to buy an apartment at 820 Fifth Avenue. The fourth-floor co-op, which has a jaw-dropping 100 feet of frontage on Fifth Avenue, currently belongs to Lily Safra, the widow of slain financier Edmond Safra.

In other news at the same building, The Observer has learned that Jack Levy, co-chairman of mergers and acquisitions at Goldman Sachs, is the buyer in the previously reported sale of late Greek shipping magnate Stavros Niarchos' eighth-floor apartment in the building. Niarchos died in 1996, and the $15 million deal to sell his apartment closed about six months ago. Mr. Levy declined to comment on the deal.

His potential neighbor, Mr. Hovnanian, has yet to appear before the board at 820 Fifth, which is considered one of the three or four most sought-after cooperatives in New York. There is only one apartment on each of the building's 12 stories, and each 6,500-square-foot unit has the same 100 feet of frontage on Fifth Avenue. Current residents include socialite and board president Jayne Wrightsman, gallery owner William Acquavella and Yahoo chief Terry Semel.

Hovnanian Enterprises Inc., which was founded in 1959 by Kevork Hovnanian, Mr. Hovnanian's father and the company's current chairman, is headquartered in Red Bank, N.J., and is that state's largest builder of single-family homes and condos. The company has operations across the eastern United States, as well as in Texas and California. Fortune magazine recently ranked the company 15th on its list of fastest-growing companies, with revenues of $2.84 billion.

Ara Hovnanian is seeking the fourth-floor apartment that Ms. Safra purchased in 2000 from Tommy Hilfiger. Ms. Safra, who lives in the building's penthouse, has kept the fourth-floor apartment vacant. Listing broker Victoria Cote, a vice president at the Corcoran Group, had no comment on the deal; nor did Mr. Hovnanian's broker, Jill Roosevelt of Brown Harris Stevens. Calls to Hovnanian Enterprises were not returned before press time.

Sources close to the building say that Mr. Levy, the new owner of the building's eighth floor, has yet to move into the apartment. Mr. Levy was appointed to his current position as co-chairman of mergers and acquisitions in 2000.

RANGER HALL-OF-FAMER SELLS FOR $1.075 M.; AND HIS WIFE SEES A BUSINESS OPPORTUNITY

For the 18 years between 1960 and 1978, New York Ranger Hall-of-Famer Rod Gilbert dazzled New Yorkers with his record-shattering goal tallies. These days, Mr. Gilbert is hoping to dazzle New Yorkers with the Upper East Side apartment that his wife gave a triple-mint renovation. The Gilberts' showpiece, a 39th-floor, three-bedroom condo at 1623 Third Avenue, recently hit the market for $1.075 million.

"My husband loved living in the building," said Mr. Gilbert's wife, Judy, who owns the advertising agency Christy MacDougall Mitchell Bodden. "There's a pool and a gym that he used almost every day."

Mr. Gilbert broke or equaled 20 team scoring records during his career, notching 1,021 points over 1,065 games. In 1979, he was the first Rangers player to have his jersey retired.

For 12 years, the hockey great and his wife had been renting an apartment two floors above the one they're currently selling. Earlier this year, when the building converted from a rental to a condominium, the Gilberts exercised their option to sell their rights to the apartment they'd been renting. They then moved into a spread on East End Avenue that they had purchased a few years earlier.

Three weeks before closing on the sale of their rights, however, they were presented with an opportunity to stay put in the building. A resident of the tower who lived two floors below the Gilberts offered to sell them the rights to his apartment. And even though they had already decided to move to East End Avenue, they took their neighbor up on his offer.

"The building is so addictive that my husband regretted having sold our apartment, even though we already had one at East End Avenue to move into," Ms. Gilbert said.

At that point, the plan was to move back into 1623 Third Avenue as soon as they had finished renovating the lower-floor apartment they just picked up. But the prospect of moving all those boxes back into 1623 from East End Avenue was just a little too daunting for the Gilberts.

"It took us four months to pack up all our stuff, and when we got [to East End Avenue], my husband decided he didn't want to move again," said Ms. Gilbert. "It was the arduous move that made him change his mind."

So instead of moving back to the building they had lived in for the last 12 years, they decided to stay put. And as it turned out, their East End Avenue purchase ended up yielding an unexpected business opportunity for the Gilberts. Before they moved into their East End Avenue place, they had been renting it out. One of the people who came by to check it out was Mets pitcher Tom Glavine, whom Mr. Gilbert knew through his sports connections. A real-estate broker remarked to Ms. Gilbert that given her husband's renown, they had a unique opportunity to reach out to athletes in need of lodging. Thus did Ms. Gilbert launch the Home Team, a concierge and real-estate referral service for athletes. It's not yet incorporated, but Ms. Gilbert is already sending out brochures to the Rangers and the Knicks.

"It was an outgrowth of being married to Rod, and marketing," she said.

Although there's no hockey memorabilia in the eighth-floor condo at 1623 Third Avenue-not surprising, seeing that they never moved in-Ms. Gilbert did give the 1,371-square-foot place a major renovation, including a California kitchen with a SubZero refrigerator and a third bedroom with pocket doors.

"It's fully furnished," Ms. Gilbert said. "I made it like a model apartment." Carrie Chiang and Loy Carlos, both of the Corcoran Group, have the listing.

RECENT TRANSACTIONS IN THE REAL ESTATE MARKET

MURRAY HILL

16 Park Avenue

One-bedroom, one-bathroom co-op.

Asking: $479,000. Selling: $450,000.

Maintenance: $1,033; 54 percent tax-deductible.

Time on market: five minutes.

GONE IN A FLASH This one-bedroom apartment overlooking Park Avenue was snapped up quicker than you can say pied-à-terre , according to Coldwell Banker Hunt Kennedy broker Tim Carris. The buyers were not only the very first to see the place, but also the only people to have the privilege of viewing the one-bedroom apartment, which comes equipped with luxuries like a full marble bath. "It was on the market for about five minutes," said Mr. Carris. He got the paperwork for the place on a Friday, and decided to bring by some buyers as a side trip while he showed them another place. It turned out to be a perfect match. The buyers, cancer researchers at John Hopkins University School of Medicine, make their permanent home in Baltimore but wanted a pied-à-terre that was "spectacular and in perfect condition-and this was it," Mr. Carris said. The sellers had recently completed a high-end renovation on the place, and even then only used the apartment about 10 times, Mr. Carris said, accounting for its mint condition. It wasn't that Manhattan didn't agree with the sellers, Neil and Jane Kazan, who own a boutique investment firm. In fact, they're in the process of moving to the city full-time, selling their house in Mendham, N.J. They're looking for a three-bedroom apartment.

GREENWICH VILLAGE

115 Fourth Avenue

One-bedroom, two-bathroom condo.

Asking: $799,000. Selling: $770,000.

Charges: $834. Taxes: $401.

Time on the market: two weeks.

THE PETERSFIELD SHUFFLE The seller of this one-bedroom west-facing condo just couldn't bear to leave her beloved building behind, so she moved down the hall instead. The lucky inhabitants of the Petersfield, a prewar building just two blocks from Union Square, find themselves in one of "the most unique buildings in the city," according to Corcoran Group vice president Roseann Barber, who had the exclusive. It's a prewar building with a full-time doorman, common roof deck and condos. "It's rare to get a combination of two of those qualities together, let alone three or four. It's definitely not a cookie-cutter building," Ms. Barber said. The seller, an unmarried woman who works in banking and finance, left behind a loft with curved walls, 12-foot ceilings, oversized windows and hardwood floors. Her new apartment is just a few doors down and is bigger, with two bedrooms instead of one. The buyer, a single woman in her 20's living in Soho, was happy to move into the nearly 1,200-square-foot apartment. She now runs a standardized-test tutoring business, and plans to completely renovate the place. "One of the reasons we liked her was that she came in and knew exactly what she wanted," Ms. Barber said.

TRIBECA

57 Walker Street

One-bedroom, two-bathroom co-op.

Asking: $995,000. Selling: $980,000.

Maintenance: $768; 52 percent tax-deductible.

Time on the market: three weeks.

BEHIND THIS DOOR "You wouldn't even know that this loft building existed-it has this really trashy metal door," said Douglas Elliman broker Ryan Fix. But one "really cute" young couple-he's a successful financier, she's a dentist-did, so they snapped up this Tribeca "mega-loft" with 16-foot ceilings. "They were just looking for good space and good light …. They didn't care about a good neighborhood," Mr. Fix said. With exposed brick and columns, the "original" Tribeca loft will need major renovations, which the buyers plan to do in stages, beginning with the kitchen and bathrooms. "They're going to have to put a couple hundred thousand into the place, frankly," Mr. Fix said. "It needs a good amount of work, but it was sold at a really low cost, considering it's almost 2,000 square feet in total." But the buyers don't seem to mind a handyman special, and its airiness is a definitely a plus. "Sales like this definitely speak to the growing demand for living in Tribeca, and the extension of Tribeca's boundaries-especially because this apartment is right on the edge,' Mr. Fix said of the loft, which faces Walker Street and sits just two blocks south of Canal Street. The seller, a painter who is now married and has kids, "grew out of the place" and now spends her time in Connecticut with her family, according to the broker.