The Making of a Saint: The Meteoric Rise of Pete Santangelo (excerpt)
Submitted by Jane Carroway for
The view from the apartment where I'm standing is stunning. Incredible, even. In fact, if you looked up "million dollar view" online, you'd probably see what I'm looking at right now.
The confluence of the Hudson and East Rivers can be seen, with Lady Liberty off in the distance. The rest of New York Harbor gleams behind her. There are tantalizing peeks at the top of the Brooklyn Bridge supports, and even glimpses of the Manhattan Bridge, possibly, though that might just be wishful thinking. All of southern Manhattan is spread out in a sweeping vista. Numerous tall buildings where other lucky people are no doubt enjoying equally spectacular views dot the horizon.
It must be a glittering wonderland at night.
There's also a huge terrace that looks like a lush, tropical garden. It's a well-known fact that Pete has quite the green thumb.
This reporter is floored. This reporter is just a humble thing from the hinterlands of New Jersey, so it doesn't take much, granted, but wow.
And no one's even entered the room yet.
Speaking of the room: There are books everywhere. Every flat surface has something printed lying on it. There are also floor to ceiling bookshelves on either side of the bison-roasting-on-a-spit-sized fireplace, the kind with the cool attached ladders, and this isn't even taking into account the actual presence of a library in the open loft. It looks colorful and cozy up there, with a couple of squashy and comfortable looking chairs that beg to be sat in with a cup of tea and a lap rug.
Whoever lives here has serious reading addiction issues, in addition to having gobs of money.
Other than the plethora of reading material, this huge, beautiful, dare I say perfect room also contains a mammoth grand piano, finished in shiny mahogany, and a very sophisticated looking sound system. In this day and age of iPods and music on the go, it's refreshing, comforting, almost, to be in a room with a turntable, and LPs carefully stored next to it.
Over the aforementioned fireplace is a nearly life-sized photograph of five children, each child completely adorable in a different way from the others, ranging in age from maybe ten years old, right on down to a baby. They appear to be dancing in front of a wave on a beach.
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