An Inclusive Litany

5/27/93

Czechoslovakian-born Fred Botur came to New York in 1952, a refugee from communism. In 1965, he started a five-court tennis club in a city-owned armory.

A few years later, the city decided to tear down the armory and gave Botur the boot. He found a new site and opened outdoor courts, planning to add a three-story indoor tennis club. Community groups objected, and the city refused Botur a zoning variance. He had to move again.

Undaunted, he leased a field under a city bridge and built another tennis club. But when Botur's seven-year lease was up, the city called for competitive bids. Someone bid higher, so the city threw Botur out.

Meanwhile, on a junk property leased from the city, he had built a fourth tennis club. Everything was fine until seven years later when he was bounced for an expressway extension. Fourteen years after that, there's no highway construction on the property.

Frustrated by the whims of bureaucrats, Botur bought seven debris-filled acres that he turned into 30 indoor and outdoor courts with clubhouse and art gallery. He has 900 members, employs 55 people and pays more than $1 million a year in taxes.

Botur's been there 19 years, but the bureaucrats are after him again. This time, the city and state have mapped plans to build $2.3 billion worth of apartment buildings, offices and a 350-room hotel—on and around Botur's tennis club.

As the New York government moves to acquire Fred Botur's hard-won enterprise, the Czech government is returning to him family property seized by communists after World War II.