June 26, 1990|By LIZ DOUP, Staff Writer
Welcome home.
You`ve arrived at 525 S. Flagler Drive, the address of TRUMP PLAZA, the 32- story twin-towered edifice that dominates the West Palm Beach skyline and dwarfs the humble bits of architectural history at its feet.
But then you probably knew that already, since TRUMP PLAZA is pretty hard to miss.
After all, it`s owned by a money-mad New Yorker with a penchant for putting his name on everything.
And always in capital letters.
As TRUMP himself is so fond of saying, you`re buying more than a condo when you plunk down a few hundred grand for this address.
And, boy, is he right.
TRUMP PLAZA overlooks the Intracoastal and offers a bird`s-eye view of Palm Beach. It`s five minutes from that island, three minutes from downtown West Palm Beach and one minute from the nearest Jaguar repair shop.
And if that isn`t enough, TRUMP PLAZA also has a tarnished past, a publicized present and, if you`re reading the papers, a much-discussed future.
With all that in mind, why not check it out for yourself?
But first, wipe your feet on the TRUMP doormat. You don`t want to track dirt on that travertine marble.
THE NAME GAME
By moving quickly past the doorman in the white military suit with the gold braid, past the grand piano where Friday night cocktails are held, past the overstuffed taupe furnishings, and past the woman with the canvas bag that says ``Forbes Capitalist Tool Bag,`` you`ll finally reach the elevators.
Once in the elevator, notice there`s no 13th floor but there are four levels of penthouses. Speaking of penthouses, Lee Iacocca supposedly once owned one but never parked his Chrysler -- or his Rolls or his Lamborghini or whatever he drives -- in the underground parking garage that`s packed with heavy, expensive metal, including Jags in abundance. A car so common, incidentally, it`s known as the ``Palm Beach VW.``
The point is, and pardon the digression, please, no story about TRUMP PLAZA is complete without throwing in a big name connection, no matter how tenuous.
Names are important here and so are former addresses.
Among those former Palm Beachers who`ve moved from the plush side of the Intracoastal to the plebian side are blue bloods like Brownie MacLean, a Palm Beach fixture who once sold her home to John Lennon. (Says MacLean, ``This is one of the few apartments where you can keep pets and I have a toy poodle.``) And Palm Beacher Mary Woolworth Donahue -- she of dime store dollars -- has been spotted on the tennis court.
As for the new blood: Here she is, Miss America 1979, Kylene Barker Brandon, who has her shop in Palm Beach but hangs her duds at TRUMP PLAZA. ``The view is better than sitting in Palm Beach and looking at West Palm Beach,`` she says, laughing. And then there`s state Sen. Eleanor Weinstock, who left her condo in the south end of Palm Beach and now is fewer than five minutes from her West Palm Beach office.
``A few years ago, you couldn`t get Palm Beachers to cross the bridge to come to West Palm Beach because they thought they`d be raped, mugged or get a nosebleed,`` says J. Richard Allison, a real estate broker who also lives in the building. ``But that`s changed.``
Perhaps a little. But in a few conversations with real estate agents who were asked to debate the differences between living in TRUMP PLAZA and living in a Palm Beach condo, one comment stands out:
``When you`re in TRUMP PLAZA,`` one real estate agent sniffs, ``you`re in West Palm Beach.``
A SILENT TRUMP
As a matter of fact, the guy with his name on the building does live on the other side of the Intracoastal, though he can get a good deal now, should he choose to move.
This month, while TRUMP`s fortune appeared to tumble, an ad in the Wall Street Journal advertised 10 apartments at TRUMP PLAZA for below the listed price. Another story speculated that the building might be deeded back to the bank.
Judging from published reports and figures from real estate agents, prices range from $280,000 to $1.8 million for a penthouse. And maintenance fees range from $450 to $500 a month.
The residents seem quite cheerful about it all, and say they think their investments are sound. Officials with the TRUMP organization decline to comment on the prices, the sales or anything else, for that matter.
And when, one asks a TRUMP spokeswoman, might they be interested in sitting down for a chat?
``I don`t think ever.``
FROM THE START
In the beginning, the man behind the dream was a local developer named Robert Armour, who was comfortable on both sides of the Intracoastal and wasn`t put off by the address.
The public Armour put his name on a signature building on Worth Avenue in Palm Beach in the `50s and his weight behind the art scene in Palm Beach County in the `80s.
The private Armour died last fall at age 54 of AIDS-related pneumonia, leaving $65,000 to a former live-in companion. The man happened to be a convicted murderer -- he stomped a cabby to death in Indiana. Armour also left $250,000 for a county shelter for indigent AIDS patients.
