▶ Rules from the 19th century, and a waiting list to get in.
By HILARY STOUT
Man on the premises!
Martha Morales, the evening supervisor at the Webster Apartments, a large, brick home to 370 women of varying ages and occupations, strode down a long corridor and knocked on a door. A young woman answered. “We think you have a man in there,” Ms. Morales said.
Under orders, the young woman opened her closet. Crouching inside was a terrified-looking male, who ran out of the room and disappeared down the hall.
This is not a tale from the 1950s. It is straight out of 21st century New York City. With an amused smile but an earnest tone, the building’s manager, Maryann Lienhard (who warned the embarrassed tenant that she would get “no second chances”) recalled the incident the other day - just one small drama from a slice of life that many people assume vanished from the city decades ago.
The Webster, on West 34th Street, is one of the few remaining all-female residences in a city that used to have many. Those that remain are thriving, most with waiting lists of prospective tenants. The appeal today is not so different than it was in the past: safety, cleanliness and - especially attractive in modern-day New York - a good real estate deal.
It costs about $1,000 per month to live at the Webster. For that you get a small single room and shared bath but also a hot breakfast and dinner, maid service, use of a large walled garden and a roof deck with a spectacular view.
Curfews disappeared years ago. “On Saturday night, you start seeing everyone all dolled up and walking out the door,” said Sister Marlene Rust, the administrator of Jeanne d’Arc, a women’s residence on West 24th Street that is owned by an order of Catholic nuns. “You might see them walking in again on Sunday morning or afternoon.” (Asked if anyone seemed to be embarrassed by such a timetable, the nun replied: “Why be embarrassed?”)
Security workers still patrol a row of six small alcoves at the Webster, each outfitted with armchairs, a love seat and a coffee table, but no door. Called “beau parlors,” they were set up in the 1920s so residents could entertain gentlemen callers chastely.
Unlike the 20-somethings who are the majority of the residents, Gail Kennedy came to the Webster by way of a midlife divorce. That was a year ago. A wardrobe dresser and a private Pilates instructor, she is staying here until she finds a good deal on an apartment. She finds the rules a bit stifling for a woman in her 40s. Her oldest daughter, who is in her 20s, came to visit recently and thought “it’s all a little wacky.” But, she said, “I didn’t anticipate what a great social environment it would be. I’ve met a lot of interesting people here.”
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