Has Time Square’s Most Troubled Building Finally Found a Way Out?

A tower that once promised luxury over Times Square now stands as a symbol of New York’s persistent building problems. Built in 1930 as a grand hotel with over 600 rooms, it even had its own underground bus terminal. But barely a year later, the Great Depression forced it into foreclosure before it could even settle into its role. Through decades of neglect, violence and financial misuse, the building became a magnet for horror stories. Reporters once documented a baby beaten to death, a woman thrown from a window and another victim found dead under a bed. Its reputation worsened in the 2000s when it topped TripAdvisor’s yearly list of America’s worst hotels after guests reported rats, bedbugs and sinks covered in unidentifiable stains. One visitor commented that sleeping there felt worse than spending the night on the sidewalk. Above the entrance, a garish yellow sign read “You Wanted in Time Square & Less. ” Despite local hopes to turn it into affordable housing for artists and theater workers, legal fights dragged on for more than ten years. An auction planned for early May was halted after the current owners, who control other buildings across the city, convinced a judge to pause the sale. The building’s long decline reflects deeper issues in how cities handle troubled properties. When hotels lose guests and fall into debt, owners sometimes abandon buildings instead of fixing them. This leaves tenants, neighbors and the city stuck with unsafe conditions. In this case, the structure’s underground terminal, once a novelty, became another burden, adding to maintenance costs and legal complications. Over the years, the building changed hands many times, but each new owner seemed less interested in repairs and more focused on quick profits or legal battles. Its windows were boarded up, its hallways smelled of mildew, and its reputation made it nearly impossible to rent out. Yet, despite its infamy, the city still needs solutions. Empty buildings invite crime, waste space and lower property values nearby.

For a while, there was talk of converting the space into studios for artists or affordable housing for theater workers who help drive New York’s cultural scene. The idea made sense: Times Square thrives on creativity, and artists often struggle with rising rents. Yet every plan hit a wall—mostly because of legal disputes. The current owners, two brothers with multiple properties, have managed to delay or derail sales for years. Their actions suggest they are playing a longer game, waiting for conditions to shift in their favor rather than investing in improvements. Meanwhile, the building continues to decay, and the city’s attempts to enforce safety codes face constant pushback. The failed auction raises questions about who really controls New York’s future. Should private owners be allowed to hold onto failing properties indefinitely, or should cities have stronger tools to step in when buildings become dangers or liabilities? Other cities have used similar tactics to reclaim troubled structures, turning them into public assets or forcing sales to responsible buyers. New York’s approach has been slower, often bogged down by court delays and owner tactics. Cases like this one reveal a gap between what cities promise and what they can actually enforce. What happens next could set a precedent. If the building remains in legal limbo, it might keep sinking further into disrepair. But if the court eventually orders a sale, the new owner will face the challenge of cleaning up decades of neglect. Either way, the story of this once-grand hotel reflects broader struggles: balancing private ownership with public good, protecting tenants and neighbors, and deciding how much decay a city should tolerate before stepping in.

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