Board Service: Roberta Lawrence
July 29, 2009 — Within weeks of graduating from high school, I rented a tiny studio atop a five-story townhouse on 38th Street, registered for college night classes, and snagged a job in the garment center. For the next two years, I lived a quiet life in my 200 square feet. I shared the top floor with three other young women with identical studios, each with one small window. and a romantic glass skylight. Except for sending a $175 rent check to the managing agent monthly, I had no involvement with building operations. The landlord — whoever that was — kept the building and the front yard neat and clean.
The author and illustrator Edward Gorey lived on the parlor floor; Alexis Kirk, the jewelry designer of the moment, lived on the third, attracting editors from Vogue and Harper's Bazaar. I felt like a princess every time I ascended the double-wide stone steps leading to the glass front doors with their scrolling ironwork. But sadly, in my 30-plus New York years since, I've never managed to replicate that genteel atmosphere. Instead, I have become a stoic board member after trial by fire.
In 1987, I was widowed suddenly and my tenant-landlord lawyer advised me he could no longer guarantee my safety in the subsequent tenement building in which I had lived with my husband since 1977. I found a co-op in a newly renovated townhouse on 15th Street, and thought I would be returning to the state of grace I had experienced on 38th Street.
However, it turned out the sponsors, long since bankrupt, had left some serious structural problems behind that we had to work to resolve with our neighbor building to the west. That's not as easy as it sounds: Much bad blood had passed between our buildings because we had gotten that other ownsr's illegal renovations shut down by the city. He was also cited for illegal venting of his laundry machines. Still, we had to make friends with him because of a crack between a shared wall that allowed water to seep into the basement unit in our building, causing the oak floor to warp and bellow out.
We needed access and we needed money. How do we do this with all the bad blood?
The answer was simple; the board let our tactful managing agent with the melodious voice negotiate a 50/50 resolution. Changing the face for the building — the face of the enemy — proved to be a good tactic.
From Western Action to Eastern Philosophy
To the east, we have another four-story rental building that was bought by the current owner after the original one was foreclosed upon. He left behind an overbuilt terrace that can present problems of noise and smoke for the shareholders of our second and third floors. I spoke to the new owner, informed him the terrace was overbuilt and did not seem to be within code, and we agreed that if it was not a source of smoke, barking dogs, and other noise nuisances, our buildings could be friends.
He has, for the most part, kept up his end of the agreement. Often, a friendly conversation between his offending tenant and our shareholders has kept relations good. We have even joined forces against yet another building where rogue construction has been a nightmare to both our buildings. Our east-building ally's lawyers were successful in getting the city to shut this rouge building down. We do not have the resources to pay for legal actions such as this; having our neighbor be on our side helped.
Co-op living is not for everyone. But having good relations with your neighbor buildings can be a win-win for all of you involved.
Adapted from Habitat June 2009. For the complete article and more, join our Archive >>
Photo by Carol Ott