Edition: U.S. / Global

A Real Estate Mystery On Proper Nantucket

Published: July 18, 2001

All the other houses on Main Street present perfect faces to the world, their trim flawless, their shingles tastefully weathered, their clematis climbing and their roses profuse. This, after all, is the heart of the historic district on this most proudly historic of islands.

Then there is No. 141.

Tourists stop and stare. Behind fencing and ''Keep Out'' signs, they can see paint peeling in strips, Ionic columns rotting, the overgrown enclosure for a swimming pool long empty.

The mood suddenly changes: where everything else is precious and pretty, this is sad, with a kind of F. Scott Fitzgerald melancholy of parties past and rich lives gone wrong and empty.

It is also mysterious. On an island where nothing-special four-bedroom houses are advertised for $2 million, who would leave a grand old beauty to rot?

The usual complaint about Nantucket houses is that their rich new owners put too much money into them, thoughtlessly gutting them or replacing old charm and historic value with new convenience.

The island has struggled in the recent boom years to cope with rocketing real estate prices, a great jump in population and so many rich residents that one native complained that the island's traditional downtown Christmas stroll was turning into a ''fur parade.''

But 141 Main Street has the opposite problem. Some local preservationists call it the most serious case of neglect on the island. If the house deteriorates much more, they say, it might have to be torn down as a safety hazard.

This would amount to ''demolition by neglect,'' the term preservationists use when owners allow properties to self-destruct. Some owners simply lack the money for maintenance; others want to demolish a building but know they would be unlikely to get permission, so they let it deteriorate until demolition seems the only option.

On Nantucket, the rules governing demolition of a historic building are strict, but can be overridden if a building is deemed dangerous. And despite the island's tradition of preservation, the authorities have few legal levers to force an owner to maintain a building.

If 141 Main Street was demolished, said Thomas Berentes, a preservation architect and neighbor, ''considering Nantucket's reputation for land conservation and historic preservation, it would really be a travesty and an insult.''

How did 141 Main Street come to such a sorry pass?

Local lore has an answer woven of fact and gossip. When William Jamieson, the guide on the Nantucket Ghost Walk, led a recent group of tourists past the house, he spoke first about its reputation for being haunted, from the silverware that rattled at dinner parties to the strange footsteps at night.

Mr. Jamieson said he wished he could blame ghosts for the house's current condition. But the real reason, he said, was a long and bitter divorce dispute between the couple who had bought it more than a decade ago. ''This is one of those 'War of the Roses' type things,'' he said.

''One would hope,'' he added, ''that this battling duo can finally resolve their differences and sell the house, not only so it can be saved but so the rest of us can find out if 141 Main is still inhabited by ghosts.''

Such third-hand hearsay seemed to demand further investigation. The Nantucket registry of deeds listed no owners' names for the property, only a local trustee, Marjorie Colley, of the trust that bought the house. Ms. Colley, when contacted, would say only that the owners declined to speak about the house.

But neighbors and officials said the husband of the battling duo was named de Ganay, that he lived in Paris and was in the film business. An Internet search turned up Thierry de Ganay, a producer whose movie credits include ''The Hairdresser's Husband'' and the recent ''Le Roman de Lulu.''

Contacted at his Paris office, Mr. de Ganay declined to speak on the record but set up a three-way phone conference with the property's current trustee, Fredric M. Sanders, a Manhattan lawyer. He listened silently as Mr. Sanders spoke.

Asked to explain the state of the house, Mr. Sanders said: ''I think the reason is that it costs a lot of money to restore a house in Nantucket as well as any other place, and at the moment the trust just doesn't have the funds available to go through that project. And I think it's anticipated that when funds become available it will be done.''

The trust does basic maintenance, he said, keeping the lawn mowed and public access blocked. Asked why the owner did not take a mortgage or fix up the house enough to rent out, he said, ''I guess we just don't want to go through the bother and responsibility of having to go out and borrow funds.''

Mr. Sanders did not say when money to fix the house might appear, and said he could not comment on whether a divorce was to blame because he had no knowledge of it.

Hmmm. Not very satisfying, compared with the local version. Another search yielded the phone number of Dee de Ganay, who neighbors said was the wife in the dispute. It turned out that she was vacationing on Nantucket and was preparing a statement on the house because it had become a hot topic this summer.

Mrs. de Ganay faxed over the four-page statement on July 16. In 1990, she said, she brought her husband, Thierry de Ganay, a French count, to visit Nantucket, where she had vacationed since the 1950's. The two soon decided to buy a home there, and in 1991 picked up 141 Main Street at auction for $420,000, a bargain price.

She said they agreed to own and restore the house jointly, with Mr. de Ganay providing the money and Mrs. de Ganay overseeing the planning and work. She hired a New York architect, Joseph Pell Lombardi, and researched the house, an unusual 1830 building that is basically Federal but with some Greek Revival details. She said they planned a historically impeccable restoration.

But in 1993, she said, Mr. de Ganay delayed signing the contract to go ahead with the work. Then he told her that the house was actually owned by his Dutch holding corporation, PCAV, making him sole owner.

''I was shocked and devastated,'' wrote Mrs. de Ganay, an Upper East Side art and antiques dealer.

In 1994, the couple separated, and in 1995, Mr. de Ganay sued for custody of their two children. Because his financial affairs are so Byzantine, Mrs. de Ganay said in a telephone interview, the French court proceedings have dragged on for years. But she said she still believed that she could gain the house and save it.

''There's unfortunately a real vendetta here, real anger,'' she said. ''And he knows by neglecting the house it's hurting me financially, and certainly emotionally, because he knows I love the house.''

Mrs. de Ganay said she had begged Ms. Colley, the house's caretaker, to persuade Mr. de Ganay at least to put on a new roof. ''If some kind of action is not taken soon, the house will be beyond repair,'' she said.

Mr. de Ganay, she said, has expressed interest in tearing the house down and subdividing the property. He is extremely wealthy, she said, and any claim that he lacks the money to repair the house is absurd.

She said a former owner had told her that the house has not only an address, but also a name: Best Intentions.

''It is a highly appropriate name in this case,'' she wrote. ''My intentions for the house were only the best.''

Photo: The house at 141 Main Street in Nantucket has fallen into disrepair since being bought by a French count, Thierry de Ganay, in 1991. The house, built in 1830, also has a reputation as being haunted. (Stephen Rose for The New York Times)