Great house, Kerry view
"The very rich," F. Scott Fitzgerald famously said, "are different from you or me."
Take, for example, a gentleman we'll call John, mostly because that's all John calls himself.
John owns what he describes in an online advertisement as a "Beacon Hill Grand Townhouse" that he wants to lease when the Democratic National Convention comes to town.
And grand it sounds. It has three suites, as he calls them, each with a luxury bath. It has a "full office with 3,000 kbps cable modem Internet access, wireless networking, three phone lines with internal paging, and a dedicated fax line/
machine." What is this, a house or the
The bigger of the two kitchens has granite and stainless steel top-of-the-line appliances. The Federal-style dining room seats eight and is "adjacent to the formal front parlor."
The two-level roof deck, with electricity, running water, and a gas grill, has 360-degree views of the Back Bay and the Charles River Basin. The front door has a camera. Since when does anyone need candids of their arriving guests?
But what makes this house grandest of all isn't the fact that it has two sets of washer/dryers, or 3,000 square feet of living space, or 13 stereo speaker zones. No, it's the location. It sits, according to the description, a mere five doors from John Kerry's house. For one week, that's the center of the universe.
Think of the possibilities during the convention. Think about the type of people who are willing to pay huge money to be so close to the nominee himself.
If this is like 1972 and the skirmishing over the vice presidency continues right onto the convention floor, then you can bet a hot real estate dollar that John Edwards, Dick Gephardt, and Bob Graham are going to be bidding up the price. In politics, like love, proximity matters.The roof deck, by great fortune, overlooks Kerry's house, so picture Edwards, telescope in hand, muttering to himself: "He's picking up his telephone. He's dialing. C'mon, phone, ring. Ring. Darn -- he's talking to someone else."
Or maybe the house will fall into enemy hands. Suppose George Bush's mischievous gang takes up residence and blasts music at Kerry day and night, much like American forces did to former Panama leader Manuel Noriega. Suppose they continually broadcast the tape of Kerry saying he voted for the $87 billion before he voted against it.
I called John yesterday, the homeowner, not the candidate. His full name is John Corey (as in Nelson DeMille's John Corey, though without any of the apparent charm), according to the Beacon Hill Times. He didn't seem particuarly talkative. If I own a house with two kitchens, Brazilian cherry floors, and six televisions, I'm shouting about it to the world. He complained about being portrayed as a "money-grubber" and hung up.
Well, there's that. The listing doesn't include a price, only a lot about how lessees will be "thoroughly screened." You can bet some of those screens involve bank account numbers.
Corey is hardly alone. All over Beacon Hill, half the residents are trying to turn an extra buck, especially with Nantucket being as expensive as it is. A woman named Carolanne posted a two-bedroom with a "charming courtyard view" at $10,000 for the week. One website lists eight available houses and apartments within three blocks of Kerry.
When DeLuca's is swarming with the likes of Howard Dean and Wes Clark, residents will have no one to blame but each other.
Reporter's note. One of the unique joys of having a column is the opportunity if affords twice a week to make a complete jackass of myself. On Friday, I penned the words "former veterans." I thank the many readers who flagged the mistake, and I apologize for making it.
Brian McGrory is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at mcgrory@globe.com.
