LAW LESSONS, PART 1: THE CASE OF THE CONTENTIOUS COOPERATOR

The conflict began with $1 million worth of mandatory Local Law 11 repairs. When the board announced a plan to finance the repairs from a mix of sources — an assessment, a maintenance increase, a loan and some cash from the reserve fund — Lapidus objected, urging the board to borrow the entire $1 million. When the board declined, Lapidus refused to pay the assessment or the maintenance increase.

"We had no choice but to sue," says Tanenbaum, who is still on the board but no longer as president. "We tried to avoid litigation, but there comes a time when you've got to put your foot down."

Lapidus fired back. He sued the co-op, claiming he should not have to pay because his apartment was plagued with roaches, rodents, asbestos, soot, excessive heat, noise and odors, making the brick fortress at the corner of Park Avenue and 87th Street "sound like Dresden right after the bombing," Tanenbaum says wryly. Among Lapidus' many claims was that his warrant of habitability was breached because there were no guards on his windows. When a judge asked him why he didn't install his own, Lapidus said he was afraid he'd get evicted for modifying his apartment without board approval. The judge didn't buy it.

Then the legal wrangling spread. Lapidus' downstairs neighbor, an attorney named Arthur Handler, filed his own lawsuit, claiming Lapidus' air conditioner was leaking water into his apartment. As well, every time Lapidus suffered a setback in court, he appealed. It began to seem that the war of attrition might drag on forever. "He used his legal talent to try to drive the co-op to its knees," says the co-op's current lawyer, David Berkey, a partner at Gallet Dreyer & Berkey.

Keep a United Front

It didn't work. Part of the reason, according to several board members and shareholders, was that the co-op remained united against what it saw as a determined, resourceful but isolated enemy. As a result of this unity, the war of attrition never turned into an internecine struggle.

"[W]e just stuck with it," says Tanenbaum. "Otherwise, you get intimidated and you're out of a lot of money. We legitimately felt he had no complaints."

Richard Herrmann, a lawyer who has lived in the building since 1979 and has served as board president for the past six years, adds: "You want a united building, and we were united all along. It was us against a very, very difficult tenant who was able to mobilize his own [law] office to support his case."

The most contentious

cases are with attorneys

who live in co-ops.

Having a legal expert as your foe is not uncommon. Back in 1996, after one of many legal rulings in the co-op's favor, Stuart Saft, a lawyer who is also chairman of the Council of New York Cooperatives & Condominiums, said: "This happens a lot. Probably the most contentious cases are with attorneys who live in co-ops, because they know how the system works and they can use their own in-house legal services so it doesn't cost them anything, and they can enter into endless litigation to wear the co-op boards down."

Sound strategy, perhaps, but in this case it didn't work. The board and shareholders were at least as determined as their adversary. "The shareholders and directors pursued it to the end because we weren't going to accept his refusal to pay [the maintenance and the assessment]," says Herrmann, the current board president. "You just stay at it. This didn't have a downside for the co-op."

Indeed, the conflict brought the shareholders closer together. In Spring 2005, the board voted unanimously to terminate the Lapiduses' lease, and called a special meeting to determine if the shareholders backed this decision. Shareholders squeezed into a rented hall around the corner from the co-op. The air was crackling with pent-up anger. Lapidus did not attend, but sent his attorney. When the votes were tallied, Lapidus and one other shareholder had voted not to terminate his lease, while the rest of the building — 98 percent — voted to evict.