You never forget your first... Apartment. That cold fear of moving out on your own, can snap even the most distracted person right back into reality. Scouring the ads, I settled on a growing young developer who was snapping up run-down units, fixing them up, and putting them out to rent.
My first ride-around was with one of his agents, who asked me what kind of property I was looking for. Now at the time, the area was divided between the north and the south, with the north being the cleaner, nicer part. So I told her it had to be in the north, it had to be cheap since I was just starting out, as well as clean, quiet, and safe.
The southern regions contained the historic district, and was slowly being flooded by criminal immigrants from overseas due to the much-hated federal refugee center, as well as fellow criminal Americans emigrating from the much-hated Philadelphia, and the even more hated New Yorkers from New York City.
Cross a certain bridge or street, and the clean streets and well-kept OWNED homes, were replaced by open drug dealing, piles of trash, completely nude immigrant children wandering around, and grown men whipping their junk out and pissing right on the sidewalk directly in front of said nude, non English-speaking, foreign children.
So I wanted no part of the ever-growing drive-by shootings, armed robbery's, group gang fistfights, and drug-war turf battles that plagued the south, and insisted on heading into the welcome safety of the north.
Not Quite There Yet
The first property she took me to was right on the border between north and south. Are we in the north? i asked, as the area was getting increasingly run-down. She wasn't quite sure, and when we stopped, it was right in the heart of the ghetto. Taking one look at the place, you'd have thought we were in sunny Camden, NJ.
The place was a mess and needed a lot of work. When I saw the needles and used condoms on the ground, I said "Oh Hell No!" I wanted something CHEAP, but not THAT damn cheap! So we got outta there fast before her car could be broken into, stolen entirely, or she could be gang raped, as we were attracting the WRONG kind of attention in this "hood."
The next place was properly in the north. People actually spoke English here, no disgusting NY Yankees hats or vile NY Giants jerseys were evident (did I say we hate New Yorkers here? Let me say it again. We hate New Yorkers).
The place was nice, and the neighborhood was clean, and I was actually interested in it, that is until the top of the hour...
At that point, I almost jump out of my skin when the loudest "BOING!, BOING!, BOING!" sounds assaulted our ears. Turns out that the mostly empty building was right next to a church complex, with the bell tower RIGHT NEXT DOOR! That bell would go off EVERY FUCKING HOUR, ALL DAY LONG!
At Noon, it rang TWELVE TIMES. At 3PM, it rang three times. At 8PM it rang 8 TIMES, and so on up until midnight WHEN IT RANG TWELVE MORE TIMES...
Can you imagine living next to that?
It was a shame, because it was such a nice unit, but I could see why no one wanted to live in a building right next to a church bell tower. So that one was out. Since she was a suburbanite unfamiliar with the area, I asked to meet with the developer himself as he knew the neighborhoods much better than she did.
I told him that I don't drink, smoke, or do drugs. I had no criminal background, and wanted something clean, quiet, safe, and above all CHEAP.
He said; "I've got just the place for you"
Grace Land
He started driving us north, into areas that I'd never been into. The region started to get hilly, with lots of trees, and leafy green shrubbery. This was a more upscale section where everyone was American, spoke flawless English, with not a naked foreign child to be found. No one threw empty soda cans on the ground here, so the sidewalks were SPOTLESS.
The car stopped in front of a quiet neighborhood right next to a park, which was so nice that I initially thought we were in the suburbs. There was no booming loud rap or Latino music ruining the ambiance, and residents spoke quietly on their front porches.
The building was a beautiful old white duplex that needed some work, but was definitely in the right area. My neighbors were all upstairs; an elderly woman who was moving out, and a college student. The other units were empty and being readied for rental.
Mine was a small efficiency apartment consisting of a bathroom near the front door, a working kitchen, and a bedroom/living room along with three closets. Outside was a hidden postage-stamped sized backyard shielded by a large shade tree.
Below me on the first floor was a dermatologists office, and all of the tenants had full use of the large basement. It was love at first sight for that apartment and the neighborhood. The reason his properties were so good to live in was because he personally vetted each potential resident. So over the next three and a half hours, he got to know what kind of person I was, before coming to the realization that I'd be a gem of a tenant, then handed me the keys.
"I can tell that you're a good person. You're exactly the kind of person we need."
The next subject he turned to was money. Turns out he offered all new tenants the same deal.
Option 1: We could choose to have full maintenance services with every little ding fixed; however along with that, came regular rent increases.
OR...
Option 2: We would handle light maintenance issues with them only taking care of big things; however, in return, HE WOULD NEVER RAISE OUR RENT.
Guess which option I chose? You better believe it, Option 2 baby! :)
And he was good to his word...
He didn't increase my rent not once during the time I lived there, and I took care of the little things that needed fixing. When I awoke after a quiet first night, I thought I smelled food in the hallway...
Turns out the management office had sent over a huge welcome basket filled with goodies; food, free concert tickets, gift cards etc. My neighbors both in the building and down the street sent me home-baked apple and pumpkin pies (I moved in in October), as well as gooey chocolate chip cookies, as a way of welcoming me to the neighborhood.
You gotta be kidding me? These people were amazing!
I lived there for several happy years until a city inspection found that the building had been illegally sub-divided, and needed replacements for the 1920s-era wiring and other much-needed upgrades.
So my almost rent-controlled efficiency was merged with the two-bedroom unit as it was originally intended in the blueprints, and we all had to move out as the building had to be restored to the way it looked over 100 years ago.
The city inspector was shocked at how little rent some of us were paying at far below market rates. But it was a good deal for both us and the developer, and I'm still friends with him to this very day.
My experience points to the benefits of shopping around when apartment-hunting, and finding the right fit between tenant and developer. I'm so glad I did, and I wish you the same good fortune when searching for your next apartment! :)