Central Park, New York’s green crown jewel, has become the center of a different kind of storm — not over its lawns, lakes, or playgrounds, but over the paychecks of the executives who run it.
Newly released IRS filings show that the Central Park Conservancy, the nonprofit entrusted with maintaining the 843-acre landmark under contract with the city, is paying its top brass salaries that rival — and in some cases surpass — those of the nation’s highest elected officials.
President and CEO Elizabeth Smith earned $933,592 in 2023, including a sizable performance bonus. The year prior, her total package reached $1.178 million. Twelve other executives cleared $300,000 apiece, with Chief Financial Officer Stephen Spinelli pulling in $654,429 and Chief of Park Operations Roger Mosier topping $500,000.

By comparison, New York City Mayor Eric Adams earns $258,750 to oversee all five boroughs, and President Donald Trump makes $400,000 to run the country.
“These salaries and benefits are outrageous. Where do you draw the line?” said City Councilwoman Vickie Paladino, a member of the Council’s Parks Committee. “Give me a break.”
Critics argue that the nonprofit’s executive compensation undermines its tax-exempt status. The conservancy generated $172 million in revenue last year, including $36.5 million in city funds. It currently boasts $400 million in investments and $677 million in net assets. Its latest project, the $160 million Davis Center at the Harlem Meer, was financed with a mix of public and private money, including $60 million from taxpayers.
For many, the optics are troubling.
“Central Park has always been well-funded because wealthy people created a conservancy,” said Arthur Schwartz, a lawyer and former community board parks chair. “If they have enough money to pay these kinds of salaries, New York City would be better served if the conservancy adopted parks in the Bronx or Queens, helping with repairs and upkeep. No one needs a million dollars to run a park.”

The debate comes as other city parks languish under funding shortages. Playgrounds in working-class neighborhoods are riddled with broken equipment and crumbling facilities. For parents in those communities, the revelation of seven-figure salaries at Central Park feels like salt in the wound.
Smith, who has led the Conservancy since 2018, has also drawn fire for stepping into another hot-button issue: horse carriages. She recently voiced support for phasing them out of Central Park, arguing they pose safety risks. That drew fury from Transport Workers Union Local 100, which represents the 170 mostly immigrant drivers.
“Her claim that the slow-moving horse carriages pose a danger, not the swarming e-bikes and scooters, is ridiculous,” said TWU President John Chiarello. “She’s a detached, super-rich aristocrat attacking working people.”

Veteran carriage driver Christina Hansen put it more bluntly: “They’re overpaid for what they do,” she said of Conservancy executives. Drivers, she noted, make about $50,000 to $60,000 a year.
The Conservancy is not alone in facing scrutiny. The nonprofit running the 9/11 Memorial and Museum has also been slammed for skyrocketing executive pay even while reporting financial struggles. But Central Park’s visibility — and the stark contrast between its lush lawns and the city’s struggling playgrounds — makes the backlash especially potent.
Defenders argue that managing Central Park is no ordinary job. The 843-acre park attracts 42 million visitors annually, making it one of the busiest urban green spaces in the world. The Conservancy oversees everything from billion-dollar restoration projects to daily maintenance of lawns, bridges, and historic structures. Skilled leadership, they say, comes at a price.

Still, the numbers speak loudly: a CEO making nearly $1 million a year to run a park while public officials responsible for millions of residents earn a fraction of that.
The Conservancy declined to comment on the compensation figures when contacted. For now, its gilded reputation is under scrutiny, with questions swirling not only about fiscal priorities but about fairness in a city where inequality cuts deep.
