No question, banking's faced a lot of bad news lately. Now comes word of a scary new low involving the J.P. Morgan Building at 23 Wall Street in Lower Manhattan.
Erected in 1913, it was so universally recognized as the epicenter of American banking that its owner deemed it unnecessary even to affix a nameplate.
The past half decade, however, has seen quite a changeover for the "House of Morgan." The building, which shares a corner with the New York Stock Exchange and Federal Hall, where George Washington took the oath of office as the nation's first president, was sold to Chinese and Angolan interests in 2008, according to press reports.
This month arrived an extreme home makeover in reverse. The owners, unable to find even a retailer to move into the four-story neoclassical building permanently, have rented it out as a Halloween City outlet — until the end of the month, anyway.
"We've really hit rock bottom to turn the head of finance into a Halloween costume shop," said Enrique Villegas of Los Angeles, who stopped in with his girlfriend on Thursday.
"What brought me was that white Ghostbusters guy," Villegas added, referring to an inflatable marshmallow man who stands eight feet and greets visitors while billowing lightly in the breeze outside the building's front door.
Inside, the onetime House of Morgan brims with seasonal staples. Along one wall runs a rack of costumes whose labels read like a weekend night in boom times: The Purrfect Playmate, a Midnight Vamp and a Dirty Cop. There's also an Angry Bird, which might appeal to homeowners who've weathered the mortgage meltdown. Or to bankers who've been at the receiving end of the invective hurled by the nearby Occupy Wall Street crowd.
Effects for sale include a 10-pack of plastic eyeballs, a 24-pack of ghoulish eyeglasses and cat's ears headbands with tiger stripes or black velvet.
"Walking Zombie Area," reads a faux street sign, which critics might find an apt description of the crossroads of capitalism during an economic crisis that President Obama has described as the worst since the Great Depression. For those who agree, Halloween City carries a vinyl presidential mask for $19.99. Opponents can acquire a Mitt Romney mask for the same price.
Villegas says the building's latest incarnation reminds him of churches in the Netherlands that have been rented out for techno raves. "It stands out like a sore thumb," he says.
A sign to the right of the building's entrance describes how J. Pierpoint Morgan, Sr., the "capitalist's capitalist," helped bankroll the building of America. Some visitors to Halloween City said they knew nothing about the man, however.
"I thought J.P. Morgan was Sonja Morgan's ex," said Justin Scalzo of New York, referring to one of the co-stars of the "Real Housewives of New York City" TV show. "J.P. Morgan obviously couldn't keep the electricity on. This is what happens," Scalzo added.
Lorraine Sotiriou, a visitor familiar with the building's history, ducked out of her finance job to check out a Ninja costume. "I thought it was highly odd and a sign of the times," Sotiriou said of the building's fate.
Jason Margolies of Springfield, New Jersey stopped in to find a mask for his two year-old son. "I'm never surprised when anything pops up," Margolies said.
"It shouldn't be like this," said Julie Miss, who was in town from Strasbourg, France, with her sister Charlotte. "It's the same all over the world, including in Paris."
"What's next," asked Charlotte. "Christmas?"
Good question. Passersby may soon learn whether the owners have heard of the Christmas Tree Shops.
