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The one reason Americans can't build quaint, walk-up apartments like they have in Europe

The stairs themselves are the problem in North America, though that's starting to change.

via About Here/YouTube

Why North America can't build European-style apartments.

One of the most beautiful features of old European neighborhoods are the rows of quaint, walk-up apartments that are the backbone of walkable neighborhoods. They help create a community where people can exit their front door and walk to a local café or market without getting in their car.

Unfortunately, these neighborhoods are hard to find in the United States, where these types of apartment buildings are exceedingly rare. Why is that? In the video below, About Here’s founder, Uytae Lee, explains why regulations in North America have made these quaint walk-up apartments, known by architects as point access blocks, nearly impossible to build.

apartment buildings, quaint walk-upWho doesn't love a quaint apartment building?Giphy

Uytae Lee is an urban planner and videographer passionate about sharing stories about our cities.

“Quaint walk-up apartments … are a beloved feature in cities around the world,” Lee says in his video entitled “Why North Americans Can’t Have Nice Apartments.” “They’re inviting and full of character. But, here in North America, they are not allowed to be built today. Instead, our apartments are big and imposing, often stretching across the entire block and the reason why it really comes down to one reason: staircases.”

- YouTubeyoutu.be

The problem is that one stairway in a point access block allows access to all apartments. This became a problem in the late 1800s when fires were commonplace in urban areas worldwide and people were more likely to die in a fire with only one exit route. So, in the U.S. and Canada, they created new regulations that made it so all buildings over two to three stories had to have two staircases to allow them to exit during a fire.

“Staircases take up a lot of space and fitting two of them in a small building means that there is much less usable floor space on every floor,” Lee says in the video. “As a result, developers here construct much larger buildings so that the staircases and hallways take up a much smaller proportion of the overall building. It's why apartments in North America, in general, are much bigger and wider than their European counterparts.”

staircase in tall buildingRegulations on staircases limit housing possibilities in the U.S and Canada.Giphy

But there are fires in Europe, too. Why did they stop short of requiring multiple staircases in apartment buildings on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean? Instead of changing the floorplans on new buildings, Europeans opted to require fireproof materials in new building construction. A big reason why the U.S. and Canada opted for larger buildings over fireproofing was because they had better access to materials and the new direction aligned with the move towards suburban sprawl.

The two-staircase regulations in the U.S also made it harder to build units greater than one bedroom because the buildings needed long hallways which reduced the number of layout options.

The current housing crisis has many rethinking the regulations that require apartment buildings to have two stairways in North America. Many urban planners believe that modern-day demands mean we should return to building more point access block buildings, but this time with modern fire-retardant materials.

In some cities, such as Seattle, Washington, lawmakers have repealed staircase mandates and begun building point access block housing to ease the crisis. And more appear to be joining the movement.

“Now, if all this makes you a bit nervous, I get it. After all, these codes are about our safety. But I do want to mention that these codes do change over time as our technology and our understanding of safety evolves,” Lee finishes the video. “It’s important that we discuss and update these rules as our world changes.”

Pew Charitable Trust reports that small, single-stairway apartments actually have a strong safety record, sharing that those kinds of buildings as tall as six stories are "at least as safe as other types of housing." As we gather data and learn more, we should be able to adjust our regulations. So maybe, hopefully, there are more quaint apartment buildings in our future.

This article originally appeared two years ago.

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A grandmother wanted to give her grandchildren the life they deserved. This building has made it possible.

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It was around Christmas 2018 and Jean Simpkins, 79, was looking out the window of her new three-bedroom apartment. Eleven floors above Washington, D.C., the grandmother of two gazed out at the lights of the city and became overwhelmed with gratitude. "The only thing I could say," Simpkins remembers, "was 'Thank you, Father.'"

Almost a year later, Simpkins still can't help but look at the apartment as a miracle — one she desperately needed. Fifteen years ago, when her grandson was born, she became his primary caregiver. Six years later, when her granddaughter was four, Simpkins was awarded full custody of her, too. She's spent the time since trying to give her grandchildren the life she knows they deserve, which has been difficult on a fixed income. On top of that, Simpkins worried that the neighborhood the family resided in wasn't the best influence on her kids. Something had to change.

Then she learned about Plaza West, a new development created by Mission First housing that would reserve 50 of its apartments specifically for families in which a grandparent or other older adult was raising children who were related to them. The waiting list, Simpkins says, was daunting. There are a great deal of grandfamilies in the D.C. area and she was sure it might be years before she got the call. But soon after applying, she was offered a choice between a two-bedroom and a three-bedroom apartment. She accepted the latter, sight unseen. She knew that each of her grandchildren needed space of their own.

Simpkins' apartment is spacious, and the twinkling lights she sees on the horizon every night are a bonus. But the real reward of living at Plaza West is the community that the grandfamilies — 49 grandmothers, three married couples, and one "very popular" single grandpa — have created for their children (and themselves). It's an intergenerational center, one where youth and seniors come together to learn from each other and give and receive wisdom.

At Plaza West, grandparents aren't just responsible for their own grandchildren. They become surrogate grandparents to every one of the kids living in the building. One grandmother, Simpkins says, takes all the children to basketball games. Other grandparents share the task of taking children to school and making sure they're back home safely.

Each month, grandparents gather together for "fireside chats," community meetings where they discuss their goals for the community as well as ask for support and air grievances in an encouraging environment. In the halls and common areas, grandparents hold all grandchildren accountable for their behavior — quickly addressing any symptoms of trouble and always imparting the importance of kindness and respect.

"We're all a family here," Simpkins says, both proud and grateful of the help she gives and receives from the people around her. "It really does take a village."

Grandfamilies, Simpkins adds, need to be a priority when it comes to housing — and Capital One agrees. That's why the bank, which has a long history of giving back to the community, worked so hard to help make Plaza West a reality for the grandparents, grand aunts, grand uncles, and children who need it.

"It's very difficult for grandparents who are raising their grandchildren on their own to find decent housing," says Ed Delany, a Capital Officer for the Mid-Atlantic region at Capital One who arranged the financing the bank provided. "There's a huge need, both nationally and in the District, for this type of housing." But that housing is rarely affordable. And when it is, Delany says, it's often sub-standard. Capital One wanted to ensure that grandfamilies in D.C. not only had a place to call home, but a place they'd be proud to live.

In order to achieve this, Capital One provided a $7.5 million construction loan and purchased more than $35 million in Low Income Housing Tax Credits to help Mission First make miracles happen for Simpkins, her family, and the other residents of Plaza West. In addition, Capital One left a $200,000 social purpose grant in place. That money is helping provide on-site support for the residents.

Capital One is proud to continue partnering with faith-based developers like Mission First because they help provide housing for those who need it most. They also allow people who've lived their whole lives in suddenly-popular neighborhoods to avoid getting priced out. Developments like Plaza West, Delany says, have had a major impact on quality of life as well as future prospects for the residents of the neighborhoods they serve.

Nothing could be more true for Simpkins and her grandchildren. Though they weren't happy with the move at first — it meant they'd have to leave some old friends behind — now that they've had time to adjust, they're flourishing. Since moving to Plaza West, both grandchildren have made the honor roll. And with more and more activities being added for older kids, including visits by mentors and programs created by Howard University, it's becoming easier to keep them involved closer to home. The neighborhood, Simpkins adds, has only become more safe and beautiful with the addition of Plaza West.

The greatest reward for her family, however, is the social support that living with other grandfamilies provides. The similar experiences they share helps provide both connection and comfort. Parenting is one of the world's hardest jobs, even with a strong support system. It can often make guardians feel isolated and lonely. That goes double for families that would be considered "non-traditional." But at Plaza West, Simpkins says, no one feels alone.

To learn more about Capital One's Community efforts, go to https://www.capitalone.com/about/.

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Older, out, and infinitely proud: a look inside a lifesaving LGBTQ senior home.

Our LGBTQ seniors deserve better. Finally, more people are paying attention.

As a transgender woman, 65-year-old Eva Skye knows firsthand that living her truth means living in danger too. Three years ago, the only home she had was at a single room occupancy housing facility, or SRO, for those living in poverty. There, she often chose to trek up several flights of stairs to her fifth floor room instead of taking the elevator out of fear she'd be trapped and assaulted by other residents.

When I talk to Skye, her brightness fills the room with color. She's rocking a hot pink top, flashy blue fingernails, and a rainbow bracelet wrapped around her left wrist. "I’m a 65-year-old trans-queer punk mom," she explains in a gentle voice, brushing back hair dyed the color of rosé wine.

Eva Skye. Photo by Robbie Couch/Upworthy.

It's amazing what a difference a few years can make. Skye's quality of life has improved dramatically since 2014, when she moved out of the SRO and into Town Hall Apartments on Chicago's north side, one of the country's few LGBTQ-inclusive affordable housing centers for seniors.

But not every LGBTQ senior is that lucky.

Pushed back into the closet

In contrast to young Americans — a demographic coming out as LGBTQ earlier in life and in larger numbers — data and discouraging anecdotal evidence suggest LGBTQ seniors are retreating into the same closets they once escaped years prior to avoid discrimination today — whether it be at the hands of their peers, as in Skye's case, or at the hands of a senior care industry that carelessly erases them.

An alarming 2010 study discovered just 22% of LGBTQ seniors felt comfortable being "out" to health care workers. Many respondents had been harassed or refused basic services because they were LGBTQ; some, incredibly, reported being told that they were being "prayed over" or that they'd "go to hell" because of who they loved or how they identified. Instead of facing these abuses, many LGBTQ seniors said it was easier to simply blend in — even if it meant becoming invisible.

Photo by Scott Olson/Getty Images.

Elderly LGBTQ people are far more likely to live alone and far less likely to have adult children they can rely on as they age compared with their straight, cisgender peers. There's a greater chance they'll end up in nursing homes, where this type of discrimination can take place. Staff members at such care centers often don't even believe they have LGBTQ residents — not because that's actually the case but because residents often choose not to come out in such uncertain conditions.

A safe place to grow old

Walking through Town Hall's cafeteria during lunch, the nurturing, jubilant atmosphere feels worlds apart from the findings of that 2010 study.

The cafeteria in the Center on Addison. Photo by Robbie Couch/Upworthy.

Through the Chicago Housing Authority's Property Rental Assistance Program, Town Hall has been providing studio and one-bedroom apartments to low-income seniors — most of whom identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or queer — for over three years.

"Seniors, as they get older, tend to want to go back into the closet," confirms Todd Williams, senior services manager at the Center on Addison, which provides many programs to Town Hall residents. "They suffer from isolation, and they feel as though they can’t necessarily be themselves in their own communities."

Eugene Robbins, another Town Hall resident, understands that struggle well. Before moving in three years ago, he'd been living in a housing project a few miles away where being gay and black had its challenges to say the least.

As a proud man of color born in Selma, Alabama — where, he recalls, white supremacists threw bricks through his family's home windows — he avoids trudging through too much past heartache. But Robbins acknowledges the stains discrimination has left on his life: "As the old saying goes, when your back is against the wall, you'd be surprised at what you can do," he reflects on his time in the housing project.

"I’m happy here," he says of Town Hall. "I feel good here."

Eugene Robbins (left) and Marti Smith (right). Photos by Robbie Couch/Upworthy.

At Town Hall, residents gush about their improved lives as if the apartments were their grandchildren's straight-A report cards. Skye says living in her top-floor studio apartment, with Lake Michigan just beyond view, makes her feel like Alice in Wonderland. Marti Smith, a 72-year-old "card-carrying lesbian," considers herself "extremely lucky" to have landed there and credits Town Hall and its programs with saving her life.

Smith survived throat cancer in the late 1990s. It wasn't just a health setback, it was a financial one too. The cancer's many lingering effects were considered pre-existing conditions and — long before Obamacare — deemed her uninsurable. Smith racked up credit card debt to pay for the necessary care.

The apartments' affordable rates, along with a bevy of center services that help residents manage external costs, are invaluable. Smith has used almost every program offered through the center, she says — free of charge, of course. Residents with ailments like Parkinson's disease and juvenile diabetes — even 30-year AIDS survivors — have benefited greatly from the Center on Addison, Smith notes. "There's no way that I could ever pay back what I have gotten," she says.

Books line the wall at the Center on Addison. Photo by Robbie Couch/Upworthy.

The building's refurbished hallways, where rainbow flags and smiling faces welcome you around most corners, makes Town Hall feel like a queer oasis, safe from the systemic challenges waiting outside. The Center on Addison, which operates on the building's first floor, offers innovative programs and experiences to residents, from those more focused on socializing and well-being — like yoga, trips to the theater, and genealogy classes — to less fun (but certainly just as critical) services — such as help managing health care benefits and job readiness workshops. Programs at the center are open to LGBTQ nonresidents who live in the Chicago area too.

Scaling success beyond Chicago

Outside groups have toured Town Hall and the Center on Addison in hopes of replicating its success elsewhere, Williams says. Locally, the apartments have become astoundingly popular among seniors hoping for a coveted studio or one-bedroom: "We no longer have a waiting list," he notes. "The waiting list was so long, we actually couldn’t [continue it]."

That's the sobering punch that complements touring Town Hall: There's overwhelming demand for more places just like it and nowhere near enough facilities to accommodate. Queer seniors, with their unique needs, are more likely to live in poverty; in Chicago alone, roughly 10,000 LGBTQ seniors could potentially benefit from affordable, queer-inclusive housing. With its 80 apartment units, Town Hall simply isn't enough.

Town Hall's outdoor terrace overlooks Chicago's Lake View neighborhood. Photo by Robbie Couch/Upworthy.

Fortunately, more doors are opening for people like Skye, helping queer seniors close the closet doors for good. Along with Town Hall, facilities in cities like Philadelphia, Minneapolis, and San Francisco are blazing trails for the often overlooked demographic within the LGBTQ community; New York City is in the midst of building its first two queer-inclusive centers as well — one in Brooklyn, one in the Bronx.

"Pandora’s box has been opened," Skye says of her new take on life after moving into Town Hall. "Look out world, here I am."

If only every LGBTQ senior could say the same.

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