Dan's Papers - October 19, 2007

The winds were whipping from all directions in front of the Sag Harbor Municipal building last Friday as people began to gather to see the Morpurgo House, a building on Union Street falling into disrepair, go on the auction block. The public auction of the Morpurgo estate, which has been the subject of a decade long battle between two sisters, was ordered by Judge Whelan. There had been two prior auctions, where nobody bid. This was the third. I heard jokes like, "Did you bring your checkbook?" or "Are you paying in cash?" put forth by the shivering on lookers. At 11 a.m. auctioneer and local lawyer Stephen Grossman emerged from the Municipal Building to the porch overlooking the anticipating crowd. Mr. Grossman was wearing a Red Sox cap, a rather new one at that, looked out at the crowd and in a strong tenor-like voice bellowed, "Showtime!" Then, with a wry smile, followed up with, "Now, terms of the sale." As if almost on cue, a public bus pulled up across the street. Revving up its engine as busses seem to do when stopping or pulling out. The sound of the mighty diesel within that bus reduced Mr. Grossman's description of the "Terms of Sale" to a Chaplin-like silent movie. Between the winds, the bus and the passing cars I, who was perhaps the closest to Mr. Grossman of the fifty people present, barely heard the legal terms of sale as his mouth moved more rapidly and the crowd grew more impatient with the language of the law. A middle-aged woman said politely, "I can't hear," and positioned herself to be the closest person to Mr. Grossman. This woman, Ms. Romano, was to play a big part in the drama that was about to unfold.

Looking out at the gathering while the "terms" were being read, I tried to figure out who the big players were. Who looked capable of giving a check for at least $90,000, which was the required ten percent of the $900,000, opening bid? I looked hard and long and wondered. I saw one strong-looking fellow carrying a leather pouch, so out of place for the rest of his appearance, one that looked like he just walked away from a construction job. Then I spotted something unusual: a young man wearing a teal polo shirt in the brisk weather. He was accompanied by a young woman who was also wearing incorrect clothing and consequently, shivering. Yes, they had to be buyers.

Finally, as small drops of rain scrambled in the ever-changing winds, the bus drove off and Mr. Grossman started the bidding at $900,000, explaining the increases to be in $10,000 increments. The moment was at hand. "Do I hear 900,000?" asked Mr. Grossman. The young man in the teal polo shouted firmly raised hand and voice, "900,000!" Then the woman right next to me, Ms. Romano, raised her hand and distinctly said, "910,000." The young gentleman in the teal polo shirt, almost as the last sound of her pronouncing of the word thousand, raised his hand and exclaimed, "920,000." Ms. Romano came back with 930,000. It was at this point Mr. Grossman searched around to find other bidders, but there were none. The crowd was comprised of spectators. Yet the young man in the teal polo shirt and Ms. Romano broke right through the million-dollar price range in a matter of minutes. The young man barked out his confident bid and the stately woman raised her hand, almost whispering the next bid. And on it went young man against seasoned and determined woman, until the watershed price of $1,450,000. It was Ms. Romano's last bid. The young fellow shouted," $1,460,000." All eyes turned to Ms. Romano, but no sounds came from her. Her body language said it all. It was over. Or was it? Mr. Grossman, with a pleading voice asked," Are there any other bids, do I hear 1,470,000?" But no one spoke, no cars went by, no busses were heard, the wind stopped. Then, Mr. Grossman shouted triumphantly. "Sold! $1,460,000." As the players headed into the building for the private presentation of a check that had to be at least $146,000, as determined by the terms of the sale the conservative-looking gentleman joined the very chilled woman and the winning bidder wearing only a teal polo shirt. It was not announced who he was, but later the bidder, whose name is Brandon, said he represented Free Wave Media in Manhattan, and promised to get back to me, which he has yet to do.

In conclusion to this epic tale of sister against sister, one to sell a home for the need of money but at the expense of evicting her sister from her place of residence, the gavel falls. For quite some time much has been written about the Morpurgo family tragedy. Their story, just like the auction, was played out in public and the hurt may never heal.