WORLD> America
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32-story Florida highrise has but 1 tenant
(Agencies)
Updated: 2009-08-03 13:25 FORT MYERS, Florida: The Vangelakos' southwest Florida condominium has marble floors, a large pool overlooking a river and modern furnishings that speak of affluence and luxury. What they don't have in the 32-story building is a single neighbor. The family of five from the northeast state of New Jersey purchased their unit four years ago, when Fort Myers was in the midst of a housing boom and any hints of an impending financial crisis were buried in lofty dreams of expansion and development. They made a $10,000 down payment and eagerly watched as builders transformed an empty lot into an opulent high rise, one that now symbolizes the foreclosure crisis.
"The future was going to be southwest Florida," said Victor Vangelakos, 45, a fire captain who planned to eventually retire and live permanently in the condo. Most of the other tenants in the 200-unit condo didn't close on their contracts, and the few that did have transferred to an adjacent building owned by the same company because more people live there.
That leaves them as the sole residents of the Oasis Tower One. "It's a beautiful building," said their attorney, John Ewing, who is representing 27 others who made deposits on units. "The problem is, it's a very lonely building." When the Vangelakos travel from Weehawken, New Jersey, just across the Hudson River from New York City, to spend a week or a few days in their Florida home, they have exclusive use of the pool, game room and gym, but they miss having a few tenants around. "Being from the city, it's very eerie," Vangelakos said. "It's almost like a scary movie." A large, circular fountain in front of the building is dry. The automatic glass doors that lead to the front lobby are locked. On the front desk is a guest sign-in sheet. The last entry: February 13, 2009. "It's like time froze here six months ago," Ewing said. Vangelakos said they closed on the apartment in the autumn, unaware the other tenants had failed to follow through. When they visited around Christmas, they didn't think much of the emptiness. They were just happy to be there. "We wanted to believe," Cathy Vangelakos said. "We were looking for what we were offered." On subsequent visits, however, the building grew more deserted. The lights on the pool and palm trees were off. Their garbage chute was sealed, a trash bin placed in front of their unit instead. Despite the empty units, they faithfully parked in their assigned spot on the second story of the parking garage. Then those lights went off, too. |