A House of Intrigue and, the Neighbors Say, Espionage

By COREY KILGANNON

In real estate, the saying goes, location is key, and it is certainly true for the little white house at 5437 Fieldston Road in Riverdale.

In a world without global tensions and nuclear showdowns, this modest, single-family house in the Bronx might have enjoyed a perfectly neutral existence.

Instead it became infamous locally, gaining a reputation as a spy house because it is separated by a fence from the Russian Federation, which opened in 1974 as a diplomatic residence.

This unassuming house provided perhaps the best physical vantage point to the 20-story building on the property, which lies between Mosholu Avenue and Fieldston Road near 255th Street and is encircled by an imposing, spike-tipped fence.

Shortly after the Russian compound opened, the house was bought by a corporation, Van Cortland Realty, whose ownership was difficult to discern. Neighbors say they can never remember anyone living there â€" even up to the present day.

The property was maintained by a landscaper, and junk mail and circulars were presumably collected periodically, although none of about a dozen neighbors interviewed can recall how.

“I call it the mystery house,” said Mike O'Rourke, 86, who has been a doorman at Fieldston Manor, across the street from the house, for 20 years.

“I've never seen anyone go in or out,” Mr. O'Rourke said.

Herminio Sanes Jr., the superintendent at Fieldston Manor, said most neighbors assumed it was used by federal agents as a surveillance house to watch the Russian compound, which is now operated by Russia's mission to the United Nations.

“Everyone always said it was an F.B.I. house,” said Mr. Sanes, who added that the most activity he ever spotted near the property were repair crews that seemed to constantly tend to the phone lines near the house.

“We used to always see men working on th e telephone poles, and we used to say, ‘How many times can they possibly fix these lines?'” Mr. Sanes said.

But it appears this house of intrigue may be reborn as a house of worship. According to New York City finance records, the house has been purchased for $400,000 by the Talner Congregation Beth David. The congregation hopes to demolish the house and build a synagogue, according to New York City Department of Buildings officials.

Congregation officials did not return messages requesting comment, but Susan Goldy, a local real estate agent helping the congregation find temporary rental space, said she had discussed the sale with a congregation member.

“The congregation basically doesn't even know who they bought the house from,” Ms. Goldy said. “The inside of the house looked as if it had never been lived in, and the lawyer for the seller who handled the closing never explained who the real owner was, beyond the corporate name.”

Two offi cers from Van Cortland Realty, a holding company that bought the house shortly after the compound opened, and which has a business address in Ellicott City, Md., near Washington, did not return phone calls.

An F.B.I. spokesman in New York declined to comment about neighborhood rumors regarding the house. Officials of Russia's United Nations mission also did not respond to a request for comment.

So while the truth of the 5437 Fieldston Road may never be known, its history as a local legend with spy-novel status seems worth summarizing.

In the early 1970s, as the Russian compound was being built, the modest house was sold several times between real estate holding companies.

Cold-war-spy story lines flew about the house, which looked about as nondescript as a man in a tan overcoat and sunglasses reading a newspaper in a spy movie.

Its vantage point overlooked huge satellite dishes mounted on a lower floor of the Russian Federation building. The bl inds on the windows that faced the federation building always seemed closed.

Neighbors theorized that the house was used for camera surveillance and to monitor phone lines at the Russian Federation, but no one ever seemed to come or go. After snowstorms, the front of the house would remain covered in smooth white snow, with no footsteps, sometimes for weeks until the snow melted.

“It was well known that it was a government house, one of the agencies,” said a longtime resident on the block who spoke on the condition of anonymity because he is a retired deputy inspector with the New York Police Department and he did not feel comfortable being revealed speaking about the topic.

Several residents of Fieldston Manor said it was common knowledge that F.B.I. agents worked out of an apartment in the complex that faces both the house and the compound.

“A lot of us spoke to the agents, and they did not hide who they were,” said William Nage, 60, a retir ed interior designer.

Workers would show up so often to climb a utility pole outside the house and work on the lines, it became a running joke among residents.

“We used to say, ‘At least we probably have better television reception than anyone else,'” Ms. Goldy said.

And even after the breakup of the Soviet Union, the house remained empty yet well maintained, Mr. O'Rourke said.

As he spoke he stopped a passing resident and asked, “What do you know about that white house across the street?”

“Oh,'' the resident replied nonchalantly, “that's a government house.”