Between Jane’s Co-op and a $3.5 Billion Tower

Last month, I was at a Christmas party at my friend Jane’s apartment on East End Avenue.

Jane’s lived there since she was a teenager. Classic Upper East Side co-op - gracious layout, big terrace, the kind of place where you raise a family in Manhattan.

I stepped out onto the terrace with my club soda. It was cold. Winter-cold. The kind of night where the city lights feel sharper.

And there it was: the new J.P. Morgan tower at 270 Park Avenue, beaming across Midtown.

I know the Manhattan skyline like the back of my hand. It lights me up. But very few buildings really stand out.

This one did.

Standing there on East End in the 80s, looking south and west, past and present collided.

Behind me: Jane’s co-op, generational New York.

In front of me: 270 Park Avenue. $3.5 billion. Brand new. All-electric, sustainable, designed for the future.

Two versions of New York, separated by decades and a few miles of skyline.

And I started wondering: what makes a building iconic?

We’ve built hundreds of towers in Manhattan since the early 1900s.

But when people think of New York, they still picture the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building.

Why those?

Why do they endure as symbols almost 100 years later?

I’ve studied that era. Those Art Deco towers weren’t just about architecture or height.

They rose during the Great Depression.

They were statements.

New York saying: we’re not done.

That’s why they became iconic.

Standing on that terrace, looking at 270 Park Avenue, I felt the same thing.

We’re in a similar moment.

The difference? We’re building smarter, healthier, and more intentionally.

And when one of us figures it out, it shows the rest of us what’s possible.

This tower isn’t just making a statement on the outside; it's designed differently on the inside.

Healthier. More sustainable. Better for the people working there.

The Art Deco builders gave us symbols of resilience.

We’re doing it again.

Standing between Jane’s co-op and that tower, I realized both are bets on something bigger than New York.

They’re best on humanity.

New York has always been humanity’s laboratory, testing whether millions of strangers can build something greater together than they ever could alone.

The Depression-era builders proved it.

The subway proved it.

Central Park proved it.

Every wave of immigrants proved it.

And now, 270 Park Avenue is proving it again.

Not just with a billion-dollar investment, but with a building designed around sustainability, wellness, and the belief that we work better together than apart.

That’s the bet this building makes.

Not just for New York.

For what’s possible when we refuse to give up on each other.