Relocation in Harlem One Tenant’s Horror Story
By Roselene Dolce

In 1997, I spent nearly two months living in my apartment with no cold or hot water. I was living in a city-owned building, 150 West 130th St., which the Neighborhood Entrepreneurs Program (NEP)—a Giuliani administration program to turn city-owned buildings over to private landlords—had taken over in 1996 for reconstruction.

On June 12, 1997, at around two o’clock in the morning, a vandal found a hole outside the building and got into the basement. He took out all the pipes and damaged the boiler. I heard the noise but did not know what was happening. Unfortunately, having lived there for 12 years, I was adapted to noisy occurrences. Calling the police could have been dangerous because criminals sometimes retaliated. They would not think twice about hurting me. Looking back, the entire incident was suspicious. I had refused to move out unless I got proper relocation documents; soon after that, I was threatened and harassed. Red graffiti was scrawled on my apartment door and the wall outside it. The words indicated bodily harm and even death. On three separate occasions, a heavy rock and ketchup and relish bottles were thrown at my door. The debris and broken glass were splashed on my door and the wall. I had to skip over the garbage to come in or out of my apartment. I refused to clean it. I lived in fear every waking moment and got very little sleep.

Urination in the hallways was always common. In May 1996, an 11-year-old boy who lived two buildings away—old enough to know better—came into my building and defecated on the second-floor stairs. The excrement was left there to dry until I moved out that August. I had no choice but to pass it on the way to my third-floor apartment. The odor was unbearable, but I could not afford to move out. And I did not want to take the chance of moving out without a written agreement from the new landlord.

The building had long been abandoned by the city Department of Housing Preservation and Development, which owned it; the only tenants left in the eight units were me and a family of three who lived on the first floor. It seemed as if they had never witnessed any vandalism, even though they were home most of the time. In order not to become a target, mum was the word. There were no locks on the entrance doors, so anyone could come in and do as they pleased, which they usually did. With only two occupied apartments and no superintendent or anyone to look after the building present, drug dealers and users took over. Vandalism was rampant. I always felt helpless and feared for my life, because the landlord did not care if I lived or died. The plan was to force me out in any way possible.

Although I had lived in the neighborhood for a long time, I did not feel comfortable with the people. My apartment had been broken into several times, and there were many other attempts. Therefore, I did not trust anyone; I kept my distance. I would leave my apartment, go to school and work, and would not stop to socialize.

I was coming out of 47-49 West 129th St., another NEP building, when I ran into Carol, an Association for Community Empowerment organizer. We had met two years before when she and I attended the same school. I had just finished looking at an apartment to which I was to relocate. NEP was not willing to fix the pipes in my 130th Street building, as it was slated for reconstruction. The family downstairs had relocated to the 129th Street building, so I was left all alone. I was petrified, yet somehow I found courage to hold on.

I was informed by the 129th Street super, who lived in another building, that the new place was ready for me to move in. However, the apartment I saw was like a dumping ground. I could not believe my eyes. The floor had black spots all over and there was no toilet seat, no bar to hang towels from, and the kitchen cabinets were filled with roaches and mouse droppings. I was moving from one horrible place to another. The only good thing about this apartment was that it had running water.

It was tempting to move to a place that appeared safer and had water. But in spite of all that and the gross conditions in my building, I had to stay brave. I told both the super and the landlord that I would not move in unless the toilet and the cabinets were taken care of. They agreed to do so. I knew if I moved in without getting the repairs done first, I would have a hard time getting their cooperation.

Carol from ACE was doing a survey of the HPD/NEP tenants and I told her my situation. She told me about ACE and the organization’s efforts to help tenants deal with the many policy changes taking place. She also told me about a meeting that Nia Mason, ACE’s director, was going to hold at the 129th Street building. I decided to go.

The meeting was very informative. Many tenants living in the building came, and they voiced concerns similar to mine. We learned how to get involved with the organization by volunteering and becoming members. Finally, I felt someone cared about the tenants who lived in such horrible conditions. Even though my apartment still had no water, I left the meeting feeling better. Soon after, the superintendent asked me to sign a relocation paper and seven other forms given to him by the NEP. He pressured me to sign them right then and there without first reading what I was signing. I kept the papers and noticed that the relocation paper was dated two months earlier and did not indicate my right to return to my old apartment after reconstruction.

I discussed the papers with both Nia and Carol. Nia asked me to write a letter to the NEP representative inviting him to meet with the tenants to discuss our problems. The representative did meet with us, but did not offer satisfactory answers to our questions. however, he did agree to give me a new relocation paper and a new lease.

I moved into 47-49 West 129th St. on Aug. 2, 1997, after nearly eight weeks of living without any water supply. In the beginning, I would buy water, but that got too expensive. fortunately, I had joined a gym a year before and was able to use their facilities to shower. Because of ACE, I had gained new hope and had gained confidence to ask for policy changes. ACE continues to keep an eye on the building and to hold NEP responsible for emergency repairs. Since my experience, I have become an ACE board member and have volunteered in their office.