My Parents Pay Less in Rent Than You and Live in a 2,500 sq. ft. Apt on the UWS
My Parents Pay Less in Rent Than You and Live in a 2,500 sq. ft. Apt on the UWS
The classic-seven pre-war that's been in our family for over 50 years.
Greetings, pals!
I’m writing to you from the Upper West Side of New York City, in the apartment I grew up in. That may lead you to think some ~*things~* about my background, so before you do, just know that my parents have been living in this apartment for 51 years and pay less in rent than you do.
Yes, they have a coveted, rent-controlled, pre-war, not even classic-six, but classic-seven Manhattan apartment in a doorman building. 2,500 square feet. It’s three bathrooms, three large bedrooms plus a maid’s room, and a formal dining and living room. And there’s a concert grand piano in the living room — Dad is a pianist.
For those of you unfamiliar with the term “pre-war apartment,” this generally refers to buildings constructed between 1900 and 1940 that retain certain historical details like large entertaining spaces and decorative moldings. Prior to this, much of Manhattan’s middle and working class population was clustered in the southern tip, with wealth moving uptown during the Gilded Age, yielding large stone mansions. But as mansions grew out of favor (or for those who could not afford them or whatever), planners capitalized on the vast amounts of land uptown, creating ornate apartment buildings that offered the rich and upper middle classes an alternative to the upkeep of mansions.
A prime example of this is The Dakota (where John Lennon was famously shot), one of NYC’s first “luxury buildings,” which, when completed in 1884 was somewhat of a joke: West 72nd Street and its environs were completely remote. Hard to believe, but consider this: My great-grandfather, who grew up in the city, told us that as a child, he had to “go up to the farm on 110th Street” for milk and eggs (this would have probably been around 1905-7).
This was also a time when the concept of the “residential hotel” was appealing to some — take The Ansonia on 74th and Broadway, which offered accommodations for both long- and short-term residency, with amenities like housekeeping, a restaurant, and a swimming pool.
Our building was erected in 1925, and there are holdovers from that era, most notably the two entrances — a rear door for staff/servants, and a front entrance that avoids the kitchen and maid’s room. Also typical: The kitchen is a small galley, meaning it was used purely for cooking by staff and wouldn’t have been a family gathering spot.
My father moved in here in 1973 with his then wife. The rent was $315, which wasn’t exactly cheap — about $2,300 in today’s money. The apartment was marketed “as is” (meaning the building wouldn’t repair anything) and it was previously being used as a dentist’s office. In one of the bedrooms, the landlord had taken out the exam chair, but a gaping hole remained and because of the “as is” clause in the lease, my father had to fill it in himself.
At the time, the neighborhood wasn’t totally safe; he describes mattresses being burned in street and stray animals. There was a fair amount of violence. (We’re on Broadway in the mid-70s; Central Park West has always been tony.) Honestly — and let’s pretend for a minute that New York is an affordable place to live — it would have been a tough sell for me.
Oh how things change. The apartments in our line now rent for about $13,000 per month. Not even The Coffee Bean can afford the rent down the block. The welfare hotel is now an actual hotel that charges $500 a night. Apple Bank is still a bank but also a place for really rich people to live. Apartment buildings that used to be for quote-unquote normal families have been gutted and rebranded with “expensive” names: The Astor, The Laney, The Chatsworth.
But in the ‘90s and early 2000s, the Upper West Side was my dreamland. There was Eeyore’s (a fabulous children’s book store), The Body Shop, Love’s Drugstore, Tower Records, Woolworth’s. As a teen, I would spend Saturday evenings at the Barnes & Noble on 82nd Street and then wander down to 72nd Street for a Tasti-D-Lite. There was a health food store that smelled just as a health food store should and sold these beauty products:
Oh, and the nut shop.
Some of the mainstays are still here: Fairway, Zabar’s, Citarella. But there’s definitely a different tone— it’s now a polished land with few small businesses left. (Although I’m not complaining about Daily Provisions.)
Things are so extremely money in the UWS now that people who live reasonably feel like anomalies — and I guess they are. At least, the New York Times sure seems fascinated by folks who live in Manhattan homes that are worth exponentially more.
It seems rare these days for the parents of millennials to still live in the homes where we were raised. (Well, I guess it’s rare to have parents who are still married.) Still, I’m sure everyone can understand that when you/your family inhabit a space for so long, your emotions become extremely intertwined with it. And because my parents rent…I can’t even begin to fathom the day another family lives there.
And yes, I will answer all your NYC rent control questions in the comments below.
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Schmatta is written by Leonora Epstein, a former shelter pub editor-in-chief. Follow at @_leonoraepstein and/or @schmattamag. For consulting and collab requests, please visit my website.
I didn't want this to end. I could have read 10,000 more words!
Have you read Griffin Dunne’s memoir, The Friday Afternoon Club? There are some fun anecdotes about the Dakota, Hotel des Artistes, and the Ansonia (including, ah, Plato’s Retreat).