The Hunt: Finding a Rent Stabilized Apartment in New York City
Back in the 90s, when I was already living downtown but still looking for a better downtown experience, I did what every reasonably desperate or ambitious person did: I went out on Tuesday nights to get the earliest possible copy of the Village Voice, to get a head start on job ads and apartment listings before everyone else picked up their copy in the morning. I remember standing in line for an apartment viewing one summer in a line that went down the street and up several flights of stairs; the population of people in that line was dotted with old co-workers and classmates, so conversations were popping up as people shouted up and down the line at faces they hadn’t seen in weeks, months or years. We were shouting because no one was going to risk stepping out of the line, even for an old friend. When we got to the top of the stairs, we found an apartment so tiny that no one even bothered stepping inside. One only needed lean into the doorway and turn your head to each side in order to see every inch.
(Video of a Corcoran listing in Flatbush includes poop in the toilet.)\
This came back to me as I began a search for an apartment a few months ago. Other things that resurfaced: memories of the notorious brokerage that used to rule the East Village from their location next to Life cafe. I had used them to find my place on 7th Street between C & D, and then learned that they had a reputation for threatening to break tenants knee-caps. When my second month’s rent was a day or two late, they accused me of staging a rent strike, and threatened send someone over. When I shared this conversation with the landlord, all payments were made directly to him in the future. Eventually I left New York, ended up back in New Orleans, then returned to Newburgh, where property taxes have increased so drastically that I seem to be paying four times the rate for my old house that I would be if it was a better house in Brooklyn. But I can’t afford a better house in Brooklyn, so I began to look to rent. Rental prices in Newburgh are similarly inflated: one bedrooms starting just under $2000. At that price, I wondered if I might be better off doing what I thought would never be possible: move back to the city, get rid of my car, eliminate the considerable costs of commuting and dealing with the mysterious billing system of Central Hudson.
Another memory also came to me: Henry Wilcox’s advice from Howards End, to fix your market and fix your price. My price: below $2000 for a dog-friendly one or two bedroom apartment, and actually as far below that price as possible. I thought my market would be the Bronx, which is a great borough and one that I became familiar with doing outreach for the city animal shelters and, during the pandemic, vaccine outreach. But as I searched the listings, I realized that options at that price in the Bronx were slim. More likely, it seemed, were neighborhoods in the north part of Manhattan: Inwood, Washington Heights, even Harlem. Or, for a faster commute to work, Flatbush in Brooklyn.
What I hadn’t counted on, in the age of virtual listings, was how many more shady brokers I would encounter that were just as cranked up as that menacing East Village brokerage from my past. Many of them, it would seem, weren’t even brokers at all. On StreetEasy, the Zillow branded website and app for NYC rentals, I would estimate at least a third of all listings aren’t legitimate. They range from the classic bait-and-switch (in which something too good to be true is “taken” but they can show you something lesser for more) to classic phishing schemes (in which a fake listing then requests all your personal information before clearing you to see the apartment) to some things that were more complicated and more puzzling. In these, photos and addresses are intentionally scrambled, so that the photos may be legitimate but the addresses are intentionally incorrect. Only after you request a viewing are you given the correct address. Sometimes it isn’t until you arrive at the listed address that you are informed via text that you need to go two blocks afield. The agents then feign surprise (“I have to have our listings person look into that!”) or, strangely, claim that is ordinary (“When we list an address on Academy it means it is something on Seaman.”)
One of the first listings I visited, in “North New York” which is actually the South Bronx, was a 500 square foot apartment in a new building with a balcony, roof deck and hard wood floors. Except when I arrived the unit was actually half that size, with no balcony, and tiled floors. And the rent, which was listed at $1650, would actually be $1800 including utilities, but the lease would actually be for $2800 (with a $1000 a month credit) because of legal obligations for this young building’s second mortgage. WTF?
Another listing in the Bronx was just over $1000 a month, but in order to see it I would need to Zelle a “good faith” deposit of $500 directly to the agent. Um, no. For yet another unit, an agent promised there were no fees until signing. He collected my application, which in NYC includes requested tax returns, bank statements, letter from employer, etc. This is the sort of paperwork that is, in other parts of the country, reserved for buying a house. Then, once everything was assembled, he dropped the bomb: all he needed now was my good faith deposit, the one he had previously said wasn’t required. A good faith deposit isn’t necessarily unusual if you have been offered a lease, but collecting it before a lease is on the table is super shady. Imagine that even if the fee was refunded if you are rejected, it will take time to get it back, then multiply that fee by all the applications you need to fill out before you get an acceptance. That’s a lot of cash, and in truth, you probably aren’t getting it back. I learned to ignore any listing from an office that began with an A, a B, or Queens.
Another unique condition of renting in New York City is that: a) almost all apartments are represented by a broker and b) the broker’s fee is paid by the tenant rather than the management. The fee ranges from one month’s rent to 12-15%, but there is no maximum limit. So for rent stabilized apartments that are below market price, the fees can be as high as $20,000. But you know that fee isn’t just going to the broker. A few years ago legislation was passed to make it illegal to pass the broker fee onto tenants; instead it would be paid by the landlord, who the realtor is actually representing. But this new rule was overturned by a judge, so the insanity continues.
After eliminating the As, the Bs and the fake realtor from Queens, I developed another technique to vet listings. Did they actually have a website? There are so many places to list an apartment a realtor can get away without having their own, but I began to see that most legitimate agents have a presence on the web. And if they have a website, I would look to see if their listing were up to date. Often they were not, not at all. But even a legitimate real estate organization can go wrong. An agent associated with Keller Williams showed me several places that would work. I applied via their website. Paid the application fee for a background check. Heard nothing. When I tracked him down, at another showing, he was full of possible reasons. The unit had been rented, I should have emailed him instead of texting, etc. He also said that my application was rejected by a landlord because my credit score came up as being 300. My credit score is NOT 300.
I became so worried that some erroneous credit score was causing a problem, I requested a copy for review. When the email arrived, I almost didn’t open it because I was so gripped with fear. Yet, the report was totally fine; I think the agent had just made up the issue as an excuse, because realtors are paid to make excuses. Before I could close the report, my phone was ringing. It was another realtor, calling to let me know I’d been approved for a one-bedroom apartment, under my budget, rent-stabilized, in a quiet corner of Washington Heights. I was completely caught off guard—and then I had to start pulling together all the fees. (I should mention/brag: in addition to waiving a pet fee, the management also gave me a $500 credit toward the rent.) I’m still putting the fees together, but if you want to make a donation to my virtual rent party—and learn a bit about the history of rent parties—you can check out my page at GoFundMe.