From the Huffington Post:
On Dec. 27, the day the great blizzard of 2010 was winding down, Michael wasn't feeling well. Someone called 911 that afternoon. The Steinway Mansion sits atop a high hill on 41st Street. Even on bright sunny days, the road, if you can even call it that, isn't the easiest to navigate.
When help didn't come quickly on Dec. 27 and Michael continued to have trouble breathing, it was decided that he needed to be driven to the hospital. As he was being walked to the car, he collapsed outside the mansion's magnificent wrought-iron gate.
Someone ran for blankets to cover Michael as he lay on the frosty, snow-covered ground. Again, 911 was called.
When the paramedics arrived some 40 minutes later -- they came in an SUV, not an ambulance -- Michael was not responsive. They carried him into the house and placed him under the motorized crystal chandelier that's as big as a hearse.
"I worked on him under the chandelier," one of the paramedics said. "It looked like something from Phantom of the Opera. It moved up and down. It was spooky and surreal. There were dogs barking, and I saw a suit of armor and a brass telescope and marble statues as I was intubating him."
All efforts failed and at 6:55 p.m. on Dec. 27, the official time of death, Michael left this world just as he intended. He was a victim not only of a heart attack but also of the blizzard. Immediate help undoubtedly would have given him more of a fighting chance, but it might have cheated him out of his destiny.
"I've done countless cardiac arrests in my career," the paramedic said. "If this had been a regular, routine day without the snow delay, he'd probably still be walking around."
The two-day wake was held in the mansion's front parlor, where the light of the giant chandelier cast the shadow of a smile on Michael's face.