End of the Six-Year Ice Follies
By John S. DeMott
New York City's Central Park last week looked like an autumn painting, framed in leaves of russet and gold and brushed with soft sunlight. In the shadow of Manhattan's skyline, workers bustled around the Wollman Memorial Rink. One crew hoisted lights for night skating, while another busily polished rest stands for skaters. Someone at the controls of the music system surrendered to an impulse and played the Skater's Waltz. Said Jogger Susan Dorrity, who stopped to watch the activity: "I can't believe it's done."
Nor can many others. Closed in 1980 for repairs, the rink over the next six years became a paradigm of the fouled-up city construction project, complete with horror stories of bureaucratic fumbling and outrageous expense. Not until last July, when New York Real Estate Mogul Donald Trump, 40, whose fortune has been estimated at upwards of a billion dollars, took over the job of rebuilding the 33,000-sq.-ft. rink, did Wollman show signs of being completed in time for the 1986-87 skating season. Trump offered Mayor Edward Koch a deal: let him have a crack at the job, and if the city was not satisfied with his work, it wouldn't pay him. "Basically the city didn't know how to build a skating rink, and I felt we could do the job," said Trump. "I told them I'll pick up the tab, and when I'm finished and you find that you still can't open, I won't expect a penny."
Trump kept his part of the bargain: he completed the rink in 3 1/2 months instead of the six he had said he would need, and for $750,000 less than his $2.9 million budget. Though the publicity-conscious Trump had much at stake in finishing the rink quickly, his rescue effort nonetheless is a revealing example of how a private developer, unfettered by the myriad regulations that bedevil local government, can execute projects with dispatch. "Donald Trump did a terrific job," said Koch last week. "We have many legal constraints on us not applicable to the private sector that often make it difficult to do things as efficiently as we would like to."
A better way certainly seemed in order. Opened in 1950 as a gift to the city from Kate Wollman, a banking heiress, the rink quickly became the favorite spot for tens of thousands of skaters to do their twirls (and spills) and sip hot cocoa on a wintry afternoon. In 1980 the city closed Wollman for renovations, which were expected to take no longer than two years. The city originally estimated that the repair bill would total $9 million, but it eventually reached $12 million without a cube of ice to show for it. The roof of the pavilion, which houses the changing rooms and restaurant, was riddled with holes and made a perfect sieve. The ice-making equipment could not do its job because its 22 miles of refrigeration pipes had sprung dozens of leaks, a disaster that was not discovered until after concrete had been poured. The pipes were further damaged as workmen chopped up the concrete to make repairs. The rink's floor was also badly slanted, causing water to accumulate at one end.
Even city officials admit that some of the foul-ups were caused by incompetence. But most were the result of the way the city is forced to do business. On any contract above $50,000, a regulation called the Wick's Law says that a minimum of four contractors must be hired, with the business going to the lowest bidders, who may not be the best performers. Trump used ten of his most trusted subcontractors. Said he: "Yes, they worked hard for me because they know there is a lot of work coming at them from us. But they were also the best in the business. We know who can deliver and who can't." Under city rules, any change in a project must be approved by several departments; Trump alone called the shots. Said Frank Ross, Trump's project manager for Wollman: "Don could make a decision in ten minutes that would take one of the city guys two years."
Trump had one other important advantage: he paid the bills. He wrote checks to suppliers and subcontractors as soon as work was completed, without forcing them to wait for payment approvals from the city. Though he did not do it frequently, he was free to pay overtime to meet his deadline, an incentive seldom allowed in city contracts.
Determined to buy the best refrigeration equipment possible, Trump sent a team to Canada, where there are some 4,000 skating rinks. After consulting with Canadian experts, Trump bought brine Freon chillers (cost: $640,000), which are powerful enough to make ice in July. The units were too big to fit through the building's doors, so Trump removed the roof, lowered the machinery inside, then replaced the roof. Trump, a man of expensive tastes, could not resist a luxurious touch: instead of using pine for the rest stands, as the city had planned, he chose polished teak.
The different methods employed by Trump and the city are best illustrated in the building of the skating surface. Trump opted to employ more workers and lay the surface quickly. In a single week his crew installed the pipe and tested it for leaks with water under high pressure. Then, in one day, from 7 a.m. until 3 p.m., 290 people poured concrete until the floor was done.
Wollman will reopen this week, and later this month there will be an extravaganza with dozens of famous skaters, including Olympians Scott Hamilton and Peggy Fleming. Trump, who will be reimbursed by the city in December for his construction expenses, will operate the rink, though he promises to contribute any profits to charity. But he will not come away empty-handed. The renovated rink improves the view from the five buildings that Trump owns overlooking the park. He has also earned the gratitude of city officials who must approve his future projects, including an $8 billion to $10 billion complex on Manhattan's West Side. No one, however, can accuse him of acting out of self-interest in at least one sense: Donald Trump does not know how to skate.
With reporting by Dean Brelis/New York