West Harlem and its surrounding neighborhoods are unrivaled in their diversity, vibrant cultures, and rich histories. Learn more about our communities and read perspectives from a variety of people in our area.

View of the Community from a long-term tenant in a Columbia-owned building

I first moved onto the square block between Broadway and Amsterdam, 121st and 122nd Streets, in 1964 when I was an undergraduate at Columbia College (class of '66). I instantly fell in love with the neighborhood which at that time was a wonderfully vibrant, secure and stable, largely Irish working class community with a healthy mix of folks from all over—Puerto Ricans, Chinese, Eastern Europeans, African Americans from the South, and on and on, and from the entire range of the socio-economic spectrum. There were custodial workers, teachers, hospital workers, musicians, lawyers, architects, graduate and undergraduate students, etc., etc., all living side by side. It was the quintessential neighborhood that makes New York such a unique city. I had come from South America and I felt at home with these people. It was also a place where my wife, an African-American Barnard student who grew up in the South Bronx, and I could feel comfortable. Not many places tolerated mixed race couples in those days. Rents were also quite reasonable so that with both of us working part time—I loaded trucks for United Parcel on the night shift—we were able to pay all our bills and raise a family (we have two daughters). Both of us have "made it" thanks to the availability of affordable housing to the average person in those days.

Our community was—and is—an enclave that had survived the onslaught of institutional expansion mostly by Columbia University, which involved the massive removal of tens of thousands of working class, and less affluent people of all stripes through the most brutal methods. A Provost of the University at the time proudly proclaimed that it was Columbia's mission to rid the neighborhood of "undesirables." Our turn came in 1967 when we were told we had six months to move so that the entire square block could be demolished to provide Teachers College with an extension doubling the size of its campus—for TC an equivalent of the Manhattanville project. The entire block would be razed and replaced with two gigantic residential towers on either end and state of the art academic and research facilities in between. Social workers hired by the College started "counseling" elderly and other vulnerable tenants into leaving. Many were afraid and did. Those remaining organized and swore they would not leave unless we were carried out. Our tenacity, dropping enrollment for TC and difficulty with finances, and most importantly the upheavals on the Columbia campus in 1968, allowed us to prevail and the College was forced to drop its ambitious plans. Now TC wanted out of the real estate business.

With the help of the Pratt Institute—the same folks who more recently helped Community Board 9 with the 197A Plan-we developed a proposal to turn our block into a not for profit, low income cooperative. It was designed to prevent speculation in apartments so that our diverse tenancy would be preserved. For two years we negotiated with TC while Association members managed the buildings. Suddenly, without warning we were informed in 1980 that the buildings had been sold to Columbia University. We then proceeded to negotiate with CU. They agreed to "grandfather" all tenants the residing in the buildings, and they agreed to "respect the residential nature of the community" by allocating apartments on a priority basis to staff, faculty and students with families. This latter promise was never fulfilled. Columbia's policy has been, and continues to be, to deregulate apartments through attrition. Whenever an apartment was vacated, through death or otherwise, it is broken up and turned into student housing. Folks with strong community bonds are replaced by transients. Of the 275 apartments, less than a hundred remain occupied by long term community residents. The net effect is to undermine stability, erode the sense of community, and homogenize the block along economic and racial lines.

In an effort to preserve what is left of this wonderful and unique heterogeneous community, we have called on the University to cease its policy of deregulation and set aside all remaining apartments occupied by community residents. We have become active members of the Coalition to Preserve Community to strengthen our campaign and to make sure that the mistakes of the past are not repeated in Manhattanville. On Jan. 22 of 2004, Community Board 9 unanimously passed a resolution calling on Columbia and the other institutions to cease deregulating apartments and set aside all remaining units as a concrete contribution towards alleviating the crisis in the lack of affordable housing they have contributed in creating. This resolution was later incorporated as a recommendation in the community's 197A Plan.

Tom Kappner

View of the Community from a public housing resident and activist

I have lived in my community for 53 years. What I have enjoyed most is a feeling of freedom—going for long walks, stopping on occasion to chat with the small storekeepers, getting some fast food now and then. I know most of the people around me, and I appreciate having all I need to service my community.

A Columbia University expansion would certain change all of that—first and foremost the environment. There would be risk factors of bio-tech research on viruses, an increased risk asthma, and things of that nature. I would lose my feeling of freedom to walk where I want to, in what otherwise would continue to be a friendly community. Change can be good, but not when you feel invaded upon, like your community is being taken from you by a foreign entity.

We need to continue to fight this, and get the message out to folks all over—that maybe soon you will be facing the same situation.

Sarah Martin

President of the General Grant Residents Association