4738 A Tale of Two Buildings

 

The lady approaching 90 lived in a six room apartment in Manhattan.  Not a fancy place.  But the rent was cheap because when she moved in, they still had real rent control.  So she was paying way less than the place was worth and the landlord tried to buy her out.

 

Stubborn old girl had no place to go. Didn’t need all that room. Didn’t use all that room. Wouldn’t move.  An investor’s nightmare.  He could have made two apartments out of her place. Maybe three.

 

The landlord was an upstanding citizen with no more than the usual strikes against him you get in that business. And he was absolutely aghast when fire mysteriously broke out and destroyed just that one apartment. 

 

You can know this because he kept saying it to police, the housing department, the fire department, the other residents of the building and in an ad in the local weekly Pennysaver.

 

The lady approaching 90 roomed with a friend a couple of floors down. The landlord rebuilt, savoring the idea that he’d finally get someone to pay big bucks.  But LA90 wouldn’t move.

 

Place was all rewired and spiffed up… painted.  The hinges oiled; the lightbulbs replaced.  Most of the furniture.  The stove.

 

Sometimes the good guys win.

 

Sometimes it’s better not to own your own roof.

 

Like the little tower on the shore off Miami, built of sticks and stones and sitting on shifting sands.  You know the place. It’s been in the news a lot lately because a lot of dead people remain buried in it. Not where they expected to be kept when they died, not a one of them.  Not permanent residencies, any of them.

 

While there was no reason to believe anything major would go wrong with that apartment uptown, there was plenty in the little Florida town only a chamber of commerce could name, “Surfside,” and the building only a real estate huckster could name, “Champlain Tower.”

 

The building is approaching 40, much younger than the Lady Approaching 90, but with nonagenarian signs of age.

 

Cracks in the walls.  A leak below the basement. When 12 stories sit on sand, water below the basement is a sign something’s going to fall.  And as you well know, half the place came down in a crushing cascade.

 

And most of the people who lived there -- owners but without authority to fix up the place -- have died or are missing and presumed dead which everyone thinks but no one will say.

 

So now, the county springs into action.  Let’s check out all the buildings approaching 40. There’s a standard on the local lawbooks requiring that.  Probably have two inspectors for a thousand high-rises. Should be done by the time buildings that are still standing turn 50.

 

I’m Wes Richards. My opinions are my own but you’re welcome to them. ®

Any Questions? wesrichards@gmail.com

© WR 2021