On the other hand, unfortunately, a court victory did not translate into housing. While Columbia merely appealed the court's decision, the tenants remained in limbo--just as hopeless, helpless, and homeless as they had been for seven months already.
The tenants negotiated with Columbia once more. This time they settled. Columbia could do what it wished with the north wing of 547, but promised to restore the rest and to reinstate some displaced tenants in newly-vacated apartments. Columbia also agreed to reimburse some of the tenants' relocation expenses and to provide temporary housing until the building was renovated. The south wing was to be finished by Oct. 31, 1984, and the north wing 14 months later. The tenants would have to wait, but at least they would once more have a place to live.
Predictably, the north wing--which was renovated to become a Columbia dorm--was renovated first. The south wing was not ready until December--three months late and with haphazard, peeling paint jobs and already crumbling plaster. Only after more wrangling and meetings with Columbia was the building finally habitable in March 1985, two years after the fire.
THE TENANTS NEVER really won. They lost most of their possessions and two years of their lives. Half of their building became a dormitory. All they gained was frustation, anxiety and unsavory memories. But their story is not told cynically. Rather, We Are Talking About Homes is a lesson about the human costs of corporate decision-making. There is no happy ending; the insensitive, big bully escapes unscathed, and the tenants only win back their housing after a long struggle. As one tenant says,
the irony is that by the time you're ready to get it back, you feel like saying, You can keep your goddamned apartment.
Schwartz's story paints a vivid picture of the real-life meaning of concepts like tight housing markets or rent control.
The irony of a vastly wealthy and powerful educational institution--tax exempt by virtue of its altruistic mission--encroaching on neighborhoods and displacing people's lives is not unique to Manhattan. The contrast between a university's role as a center of enlightenment and its insensitive treatment of tenants in its community is as obvious and painful for many Cantabrigians as it is for Schwartz's neighbors.
The plight of tenants in university-owned properties is made doubly infuriating by their landlords' claim to a higher purpose. We Are Talking About Homes sends a clear message: there is no higher purpose to owning real estate than making sure people have a place to live.