The Home: People Who Live in Glass Houses

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Then there is the 30th floor apartment of Sam (children's clothes) and Alyce Simon. Mrs. Simon, who describes herself as an "atomic artist," has ripped out all the original interior walls and floors, turned a six-room apartment into a three-room suite that gives the impression of a space platform suspended in the Manhattan sky. Equally intriguing is the eleventh-floor abode of William and Milly Johnstone. Johnstone is a retired officer of Bethlehem Steel Corp.; Mrs. Johnstone, who likes to be called "Milly-san," is a Zen disciple who religiously performs her daily Japanese tea ceremony in a bedroom decorated to resemble the Teahouse of the August Moon.

Staring Out. As the old aphorism suggests, people who live in glass houses should not get stoned. Spying on one's neighbors is one of the most popular pastimes at U.N. Plaza. "The people across the way have a telescope," says a penthouse dweller. "I presume they are looking." The presumption seems fair. Over cocktails one night in the rooftop restaurant of the neighboring Beekman Towers, Sam and Alyce Simon accidentally discovered that the restaurant commanded a marvelous view of their bedroom.

Other U.N. Plaza residents complain that the glare through the windows hurts their eyes (some have taken to wearing sunglasses indoors), and that their parties are dreadfully dull: the guests all just stand around, staring out. Joyce Susskind gets glassy-eyed when she recalls the day she walked naked from her shower, looked out of her windows—and saw a window washer looking in. Stunned, Mrs. Susskind "just sat on the bed and stared. I'll never forget his face —and I'm sure he'll never forget mine."