Without the legendary Stanley Bard the Chelsea Hotel would be nothing but a pile of bricks, mortar, and wrought iron. One of the few humanitarian landlords in the Country, Stanley, over the past five decades has helped hundreds of struggling artists, including me and my children (who still miss the Chelsea) to survive. This help has included an unerring instinct for publicity, a trait I'm afraid his partners, who inherited from their dead fathers, and who, according to your June 19th Metro article, have driven Stanley out, probably lack. The inheritors, from what I remember of them, seem to lack the
charisma that made Stanley one of New York's most memorable and treasured characters. Without Stanley the Chelsea loses its soul and West 23rd street can welcome the New World Order where profit is the only virtue. Viva (Hoffmann) Palm Springs, Ca.