From 371 Beacon St. to 514 Harvard Av.
Title
From 371 Beacon St. to 514 Harvard Av.
Creator
Jacob Schlitt
Description
"The time was short. I had to move."
Date
2011
Format
application/pdf
Type
text
Language
en
Coverage
1979/1981
Identifier
From_371_Beacon
Text
From 371 Beacon St. to 514 Harvard Av.
The time was short. I had to move. Major renovation work was to be done on 371 Beacon Street. The workers were starting in the basement and would be working their way up. My lovely charming, quaint, Victorian, residence, was in the process of being torn apart and put together.
I was warned that no one could really live there while the construction work was under way. The noise, the dust, the chaos. Everyone else was moving. It would be to my advantage to accept the very generous offer of the very generous developer.
More than 30 years later, I look back and wonder what would have happened if I did not agree to the landlord/developer’s proposal. I was confronted with two possibilities: take the money and run, or don’t take the money and stay. I was clearly discouraged from doing the latter. My living arrangements for countless months would be unbearable, so I was told. But what if I insisted on retaining my apartment? What were my rights as a tenant in a building that was being renovated and converted to condominiums? I never inquired. Now many years later, I suspect that the developer would have had to either allow me to remain, or to sell me my apartment at a lower price than the one he planned to market it.
I ended up moving. I learned about a condo on Harvard Street in Brookline. It was much larger than my apartment on Beacon Street, and it sounded like a good deal. I remembered all the arguments about the advantage of owning over renting. You rent and all you have are receipts. You own and you have real estate, which you then can sell, the assumption being, at a profit. The future at Beacon Street was unclear. I was advised to grab the Harvard Street condo, which I did.
If I remember correctly, I had moved into 371 Beacon Street in the summer of 1979. I was very pleased with my new living quarters. I had seen several apartments in the Back Bay, and apartment 3A at 371 Beacon was by far the best at the most reasonable rent. It had a lovely living room, bedroom and kitchen, much like my apartment in Washington, but older. It was near Fairfield Street—the cross street ran alphabetically—which meant that I was six blocks from the Boston Gardens. To get to work I would walk to, and through the Gardens, through the Boston Common and up Winter Street to Summer Street. It was a beautiful walk, throughout the year.
And there I lived for the rest of 1979, and all of 1980, and into 1981. It was the spring of 1981 when I was being pressured to move. It was also the spring of 1981 when my life changed dramatically. Little did I realize that, when I moved to 371 Beacon Street, that I would find my “bashert” at 520 Beacon Street. I had called Bess Bernstein, my friend Julie Bernstein’s widow, who told me that Fran Morrill, whom I knew from the Jewish Labor Committee, was also in Boston, and she lived three blocks away. Small world indeed.
1980 was a busy year. As director of the new New England Regional Office of the US Civil Rights Commission, I found and furnished our quarters at 55 Summer Street, put together a staff, and developed program for the six State Advisory Committees. I became active with both the Jewish and civil rights communities in the Boston area, made new friends and maintained contact with my old friends and with my children. Over the months, Fran and I were becoming more serious. We saw a lot of each other, and I was spending almost as much time at 520 Beacon Street, as at 371 Beacon Street.
The time was short. I had to move. Major renovation work was to be done on 371 Beacon Street. The workers were starting in the basement and would be working their way up. My lovely charming, quaint, Victorian, residence, was in the process of being torn apart and put together.
I was warned that no one could really live there while the construction work was under way. The noise, the dust, the chaos. Everyone else was moving. It would be to my advantage to accept the very generous offer of the very generous developer.
More than 30 years later, I look back and wonder what would have happened if I did not agree to the landlord/developer’s proposal. I was confronted with two possibilities: take the money and run, or don’t take the money and stay. I was clearly discouraged from doing the latter. My living arrangements for countless months would be unbearable, so I was told. But what if I insisted on retaining my apartment? What were my rights as a tenant in a building that was being renovated and converted to condominiums? I never inquired. Now many years later, I suspect that the developer would have had to either allow me to remain, or to sell me my apartment at a lower price than the one he planned to market it.
I ended up moving. I learned about a condo on Harvard Street in Brookline. It was much larger than my apartment on Beacon Street, and it sounded like a good deal. I remembered all the arguments about the advantage of owning over renting. You rent and all you have are receipts. You own and you have real estate, which you then can sell, the assumption being, at a profit. The future at Beacon Street was unclear. I was advised to grab the Harvard Street condo, which I did.
If I remember correctly, I had moved into 371 Beacon Street in the summer of 1979. I was very pleased with my new living quarters. I had seen several apartments in the Back Bay, and apartment 3A at 371 Beacon was by far the best at the most reasonable rent. It had a lovely living room, bedroom and kitchen, much like my apartment in Washington, but older. It was near Fairfield Street—the cross street ran alphabetically—which meant that I was six blocks from the Boston Gardens. To get to work I would walk to, and through the Gardens, through the Boston Common and up Winter Street to Summer Street. It was a beautiful walk, throughout the year.
And there I lived for the rest of 1979, and all of 1980, and into 1981. It was the spring of 1981 when I was being pressured to move. It was also the spring of 1981 when my life changed dramatically. Little did I realize that, when I moved to 371 Beacon Street, that I would find my “bashert” at 520 Beacon Street. I had called Bess Bernstein, my friend Julie Bernstein’s widow, who told me that Fran Morrill, whom I knew from the Jewish Labor Committee, was also in Boston, and she lived three blocks away. Small world indeed.
1980 was a busy year. As director of the new New England Regional Office of the US Civil Rights Commission, I found and furnished our quarters at 55 Summer Street, put together a staff, and developed program for the six State Advisory Committees. I became active with both the Jewish and civil rights communities in the Boston area, made new friends and maintained contact with my old friends and with my children. Over the months, Fran and I were becoming more serious. We saw a lot of each other, and I was spending almost as much time at 520 Beacon Street, as at 371 Beacon Street.
Original Format
application/msword
Collection
Citation
Jacob Schlitt, “From 371 Beacon St. to 514 Harvard Av.,” Autobiographical stories & other writing by Jacob Schlitt, accessed April 29, 2024, https://tsirlson.omeka.net/items/show/142.