By HP Wilder
WATERTOWN, NY – It’s been an eyesore, a ghost house, and a tragic symbol of bureaucratic stagnation all rolled into one — and I should know, because I can literally see the damned thing from my upstairs bedroom window.
518 Coffeen Street — the haunted-looking husk of a house where trees grew through the roof and, more disturbingly, where a man died last year — is finally coming down this summer. After years of delay, rot, and excuses, the City of Watertown is taking action. It’s not just a relief for public safety or real estate values. For me, it’s personal.
As the editor of The Watertown Post, I spend my days covering local stories that impact real people — and this one has been staring me in the face. I’ve watched that building decay through the seasons, shedding shingles like dandruff, surrounded by overgrown brush and an eerie silence that only broken windows and forgotten addresses can emit. At night, when the moonlight hits it just right, it looks like something out of a Stephen King novel. But there’s nothing fictional about the danger and sadness it represents.
The home was officially condemned back in 2021. Since then, it’s become a marker of municipal limbo. The city held a hearing in March of this year confirming what the neighbors already knew: the building was structurally unsound and a collapse was not a matter of if but when. By then, it had already hosted its last and most tragic chapter — the natural death of a 40-year-old homeless man inside. A man who died alone in a building that should have never still been standing.
City Manager Eric Wagenaar has rightly called 518 Coffeen the city’s number one demolition priority. “It’s been there so long with trees growing out of the roof, people are kinda like, ‘That’s just the way it is,’” he said. But finally, the city is ready to challenge that kind of acceptance — that slow erosion of standards.
The former owner, Frank Giordanelli, passed away in 2023, leaving behind an estate that couldn’t cover the $8,000+ in back taxes and mounting code violations. As a result, the city is eyeing a full takeover of the property, which happens to sit next to the Public Works Department. They may use it for parking, or sell it off at auction. Anything is better than letting it fester.
Let’s be clear — this house was more than just an abandoned structure. It was a testament to what happens when a city gets too used to decay. It was a blind spot. A hiding place for tragedy. And to be honest, a daily reminder to me — and everyone nearby — of what happens when a town lets rot linger.
But now, that view from my upstairs window is about to change. Soon the bulldozers will come. The walls will fall. The trees growing from the attic will be dragged down with the roof that couldn’t protect even one man from dying inside it.
The rebuilding of Watertown won’t start with a new housing development or a flashy new business. It starts with this — cleaning up what’s broken, removing what’s unsafe, and not turning away when the uncomfortable becomes the ordinary.
Goodbye, 518 Coffeen. You won’t be missed — and I’ll sleep a little easier once you’re gone.
