Rip-Off at the Chelsea

The ornate, marble-floored Chelsea Hotel on Manhattan's West 23rd Street, with its famous wrought-iron balconies and traditionally tolerant management, has been a hip haven for writers, artists and musicians since it opened its doors in 1884. The antics and accomplishments of its guests--celebrated, obscure or hovering somewhere between --have become a part of New York City's artistic lore, and so has the eleven-story Chelsea itself. Its fading elegance was saved from destruction when it was designated an official city landmark in 1966.

Fabled residents have included writers like Mark Twain and O. Henry, Thomas Wolfe and Dylan Thomas. Today the Chelsea is the permanent domain of Composer Virgil Thomson, the spot that Playwright Arthur Miller chooses to stay at when he is in town opening a new play, and the regular New York stopover for a host of luminaries from the world of art, music, film and fiction, who, along with its dozens of regular residents, prefer the funky, faded chic of the Chelsea to more contemporary quarters uptown. Perennial Chelsea guests include the entire Fonda clan, Director John Houseman and Actors Al Pacino and Timothy Bottoms. Boasts the hotel's managing director, Stanley Bard: "It is the greatest assemblage of creative people under one roof in the world."

In recent months, however, the Chelsea has also become an occasional hangout for a seedier brand of clientele --prostitutes, pimps and gamblers--and last week their high jinks snared some surprised Chelsea guests in an ugly rape-and-robbery incident. A third-floor room was serving as an all-night gambling den, with sex available as an added lure. At least 13 men and women, some of them registered guests, made their way to room 330 for the night's gambol. Around 7 a.m. Sunday, two men crashed the party at gunpoint. The pair made the partygoers strip and stole their money, watches and jewelry. As a vicious finale, they raped one of the women. The two men then locked the victims into the room's closets and bathroom, and fled.

Outlandish Goings-On. The trapped guests broke out a few minutes later and telephoned the management, which quickly summoned police. The officers interviewed victims and members of the hotel staff, and by around 9 a.m. narrowed the possible suspects to Aaron Legrand and Edward Steadley, who had checked into their first-floor room two days before. A policeman dressed as a bellboy went up to their room with the bill, and when one of the pair opened the door part way and asked him to slide it under the door, the officer, backed up by two other armed policemen, broke in and arrested the two men. They were later charged with robbery, rape, unlawful imprisonment and other crimes. Police confiscated $1,881 in cash from the room and a haul that included several watches and rings.

Is the heist likely to hurt the Chelsea's zany reputation? Hardly, say its most seasoned guests, who for years have known how to blink at outlandish goings-on at the Chelsea. "The incident just gives the place a little pep," observed Composer George Kleinsinger, a 17-year resident. "The Chelsea is still a very personal place, and I like it for that," says Playwright Miller, who lived there from 1965 to 1972. "It has big, quiet rooms. Some of them," he adds with an indulgent smile, "need painting, of course."

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