The structure and its adjoining property is in Astoria, the Queens neighborhood where I lived for a grand total of six years. My residence was within relatively easy walking distance of the Steinway grounds. It was also a world away. The Steinway mansion was lost in time. Originally built as a weekend getaway on a desirable shoreline, the area surrounding the Steinway property morphed into a collection of low-rise industrial buildings, a decidedly uncharming water treatment plant, Archie Bunker-style houses, a bleak river view, and nearby airports. That left the mansion marooned in an eerie sort of isolation. And it wasn't as if one could break through the time warp by the radical notion of walking up to the mansion itself and knock on the door. Michael Halberian, who had purchased the house from the Steinways well over a generation ago, was rather selective about whom he permitted into the mansion.
There's much more to the Steinway mansion story than what appeared in the occasionally too-cutely written Times piece. I'm hopeful one writer in particular, who lived in Astoria when I did, will have something to contribute. She has the capacity to bring depth, nuance, and style to this chapter of the Steinway mansion's saga.
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