Ask Howard • 06/21/24 – Dallas Voice

The low point on the skyscraper

Now, folks, how about the summer solstice? Exactly 14 hours, 18 minutes, and 46 seconds of yawning daylight from sunrise to sunset, followed by a full moon! You could practically read Dr. Seuss in the shallows of Turtle Creek for 24 hours straight and not even need a glass of Fireflies! Let’s just walk along the creek in good old summer, shall we?

Dear Howard: The world has completely fallen apart overnight. My husband and I have been renters for over six years, but now the summer of tenant discontent is finally here: cars in our apartment complex are constantly being broken into; at least one or two elevators are constantly broken; management never changes the air filters, and the pool keeps getting shut down, always with no explanation other than, quote, “maintenance.”

And then there are the weekends! Like the fireworks on the Fourth of July, the gunshots from the clubs along McKinney Avenue keep us on our toes from midnight to dawn.

We can’t take it anymore. We’re both just a bundle of nerves. NOW it’s time to take the leap into the great unknown: owning your own home!
Chrysanthos and I agree that we prefer living in a high-rise to the proverbial picket fence in the suburbs. But what’s the trend these days for vertical living? For people like us, I mean?

And while it shouldn’t matter, Chrys is Latvian, I’m black, and we’re both gay. Tell us the truth, Howard, OK? The real truth. We can handle it. This won’t be the first time, nor will it be the last, that our dreams collide with reality. How widespread, or at least insidious (to be more specific), has homophobia become in Uptown’s beautiful bubble of late? — Go Joe Dawg, go

Dear Dawgonnit: The plain truth, you say, huh? Well, first of all, let’s get this out of the way: These election years with Donald Trump are always hell for minorities – gays, blacks, Jews, Latinos, the physically challenged, you name it. Unless you’re Caucasian and corpulent and can yell at your golf caddy, “Get it, Goombah!” while gulping down a Big Mac in one go, eyes glazed over like a Gaboon viper, you’re already at a disadvantage.

Chrys, Joe – can I go out on a limb here and make a wild guess that your current residence bears the name “Post” in some form? Er, yes, I can completely understand your tenant’s disgust, believe me. My husband and I, along with our two hapless cats, slept in one of those cheap post horrors for two full years during the recent renovation of our own house. Hellhole Gardens is what I called the rental apartment in question – charitably.

But listen: Going from renting to owning a home is always a nerve-wracking experience, even under the best of circumstances. Bottom line, guys: As an interracial couple – a gay interracial couple – we’re in for an uphill battle, I’m not going to lie to you.

Of course, we all know that discrimination is against the law, just as we all know that there is no better real estate agent than a former hooker. (And they are all former hookers. But the one who has the rockiest bleached hair, that’s the one you choose: splinter than mesquite wood, just pay her whatever price she tells you and whichever high-rise you choose, you’re in!)

Highland Park’s high-rise corridor runs parallel to Turtle Creek for about a mile: lush, green, lush and sparkling, it bears no more resemblance to Texas’ natural topography than Neptune. As with all residential buildings, a building’s age usually plays a key role in attracting signatures on a real estate purchase agreement. Would you prefer a newer building or an older one? Both have their pros and cons.

In Dallas, for example, an important measure of what counts as old from new is whether the building in question was used before or after the introduction of battery-powered, electronic concrete floor levelers in high-rise construction in the mid-1980s. They were a groundbreaking innovation.

Anyone who has lived in a high-rise before the time when the unfaithful Sue Ellen Ewing yelled at her husband, “Cheer up, JR. It’s probably your baby,” can attest that such luxuries as flat floors did not exist then. Even today, you can put a ball on those floors – any floor, any room, any ball – and watch it roll. The Grand Canyon is flatter than the floors of old high-rises.
On the other hand, it is only the older buildings that have ample floor space, huge rooms, high ceilings, real balconies and the best views of Downtown Dallas.

Dear readers, take my hand, close your eyes, and let us travel slowly, slowly back to where all the tattered splendor, the faded glory, shines anew. At the box office, Julie Andrews and Julie Christie compete for the number one spot; the future Katy Trail roars from the locomotive engines of the railroad tracks, and you don’t even need area codes to make local calls. An exuberant Joan Crawford and her husband Alfred Steele, president of PepsiCo, wave from one of the penthouse’s spacious wraparound balconies.

Ahh, the Turtle Creek High-Rise Corridor – swimming pools, football stars… POP!

The bubble bursts. Reality is back. Our future is now.

Not a single high-rise in Turtle Creek is equipped to accommodate a garage full of electric vehicles. “Electric vehicles?” giggles the blasé, fossil-fuel-dependent signs of Central Texas. “Honey, that day will never come here!”

Indeed, pink may be the color of glasses Texans prefer to look at the world through. But this denial does little to change the fact that Houston’s oil refineries are the very first target on the list of the American extermination pact between Xi and Putin.

Yes, but other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?

Folks, if the old grande dame high-rises appeal to you the most, just spend a Sunday afternoon exploring the lobby, grounds, pool, etc. of your favorite building. Better yet, find someone there to help you evaluate your choice—a friend, or a friend of a friend, or even a friend-enemy of a friend-enemy—who lives in the building and is privy to its most salacious secrets.

Grand-dame high-rises are notoriously difficult to manage, let alone manage well. And one should always first assess how open and effective the homeowners association board is. Your inside source will know if there has been a board “coup” in recent years, and should likewise be able to inform you if the new board majority has kept its promises – to fix the previous failings of the former regime by implementing “financial best” practices (which one can interpret however one likes, as they mean absolutely nothing). Things like political transparency, retention of key personnel, excellent management, genuine concern and legitimate respect for all homeowners, blah blah blah.

More often than you might care, new board majorities rush to hire a new management company just to relieve them of the daunting responsibility of actually doing the job they were elected to do. Then, not only the new homeowners association board, but all homeowners alike are ripped off. What a shock.

Therefore, an older building – with its often astronomical HOA fees and complex maintenance needs combined with its reputation for being “difficult” – is a godsend for a management company!

Invariably and methodically, the board majority then all too often comes to believe that the only life between them and absolute disaster is the loving arms of the management company. So over time, the board majority becomes less and less likely to question the decisions of their shining knight in white armor, and they convince even well-meaning board members to ignore any further continuation of practices they expressly wanted to change by their election. And when challenged by homeowners, they end up defending the indefensible until the terrible day finally comes when an emergency special assessment is required just to save the building.

Finally, Chrys and Joe, we come to perhaps the most important issue affecting your daily enjoyment of high-rise life: the character, competence and conduct of your building’s general manager.

In the golden era of high-rise living in Dallas, a general manager could be expected to have at least a modicum of courtesy, competence, transparency, responsiveness and respect for the homeowners he or she served. Well, those days are long gone!

These days, we’re left with nothing but luck when it comes to business owners. Some are nice enough, but can’t even run a lemonade stand. And others are wolves in sheep’s clothing, blessed with the irresponsible gifts of rudeness, obfuscation, and cover-up.

But back to your question about homophobia, Joe: The wolves will probably have no qualms about using the “F-word” against you if you turn your back on them: “Bougie, moron!”

Hopefully, your inside source already knows exactly what is going on at your preferred residence. And if there is a great deal of disagreement among homeowners about the performance of the HOA board, management company, and its general manager, beware!

As for the building I call home, the grounds and surrounding area are simply beautiful. The residents here (with only a few, rare exceptions) are friendly, wonderfully educated people. Our building is the center of Uptown’s gentility. Every tenant you meet here has the same goal: to live in the most desirable high-rise on Turtle Creek. We are all so lucky.

And for those who need a reality check before making mountains out of molehills, I recommend taking a pleasant vacation this summer in one of these exotic wonders full of reality and tranquility: Gaza, Ukraine, Nigeria, Russia, China, Israel, or perhaps the tropical paradise of Haiti.

Be sure to send me a postcard!

And now, folks, back to your hunt for the perfect skyscraper: trust your instincts. If your initial concern about a building’s general manager is, “Hmm, I don’t know, something about him just doesn’t feel quite… right,” remember the immortally prescient words of Oscar Wilde: “Only a fool fails to judge by first impressions.”

— Howard Lewis Russell

July is ready and panting, men! Whatever questions your heat delirium may raise, shove your burning thighs here under my ceiling fan and share an iced tea, towards me [email protected].