Renovating Among The Stars

Justin Theroux, photo by David Shankbone

Realtor.com quoted me in Justin Theroux’s Renovation Drama: What Went Wrong? It opens,

Actor Justin Theroux might have many admirers (including his wife, Jennifer Aniston), but apparently the “Leftovers” hunk inspires more than his share of haters, too—including his Manhattan neighbor Norman Resnicow. Apparently their feud started two years ago, when Theroux decided to renovate his apartment; Resnicow lives one floor down.

As anyone who’s lived under, next to, or anywhere near a demolition site knows, home renovations can get noisy—which is why Resnicow, a lawyer, felt it within his rights to ask Theroux to do the neighborly thing and install soundproofing to muffle the ruckus. There was just one problem: According to the New York Post, the requested soundproofing would cost a whopping $30,000 and make it difficult for Theroux to preserve the original flooring in his place, which he was keen to do. So he refused.

That’s when things got ugly. According to a lawsuit filed by Theroux, Resnicow embarked on a “targeted and malicious years-long harassment campaign” to derail those renovations and just make life unpleasant for the actor.

  • Resnicow accused Theroux’s contractors of damaging the marble in the building’s entranceway, and demanded they make repairs.
  • He halted Theroux’s roof deck renovations by arguing that the fence separating their portions of the deck encroached on his property.
  • Then, for good measure, he cut down the ivy lining the fence purely because he knew that the site of the foliage made Theroux happy.

Theroux now seeks $350,000 from Resnicow, alleging nuisance, trespass, and all in all “depriving Mr. Theroux of his right to use and enjoy his property.”

But Resnicow remains resolute, telling the Post, “I have acted for one purpose only, which remains to assure my and my wife’s health and safety.”

How to balance renovations with neighbor relations

As Theroux’s predicament makes painfully clear, few issues can ruin a neighborly relationship like noise—particularly if you live in an apartment building or other tight quarters. Problem is, homeowners also have a right to make home improvements. So at what point does reasonable renovation ruckus become so loud it’s a legitimate nuisance? That depends, for starters, on where you live, as noise ordinances and other regulations vary by area.

New York City’s Noise Code prohibits construction noise that “exceeds the ambient sounds level by more than 10 decibels as measured from 15 feet from the source.” (And in case you have no clue how to figure that out, the city uses devices called sound meters; you can also download sound meter apps to take your own measurements.) Volume levels aside, most areas have limits on when you can hammer away; in New York, work is typically limited to 7 a.m. to 6 p.m., Monday through Friday.

The third variable to consider is the co-op, condo, or HOA board that governs your building or community, which may place further restrictions on hours or even the type of renovations you do. Yet if a homeowner like Theroux is following these rules, odds are he’s in the clear.

“In New York City, they say ‘hell hath no fury like an attorney dealing with noisy neighbors,’ but as long as you have the proper permits, then construction noise created during normal business hours is generally allowed, with the understanding that it will only be temporary,” says Emile L’Eplattenier, a New York City real estate agent and analyst for Fit Small Business. “As long as he isn’t running afoul of his building’s rules—which is doubtful—then his neighbor has little recourse.”

Still, if you’re a homeowner about to embark on a renovation who doesn’t want to drive your neighbors nuts, what can you do? For starters, keep in mind that even if the sounds don’t ruffle you, people’s noise sensitivities can vary.

In the words of David Reiss, research director at the Center for Urban Business Entrepreneurship at Brooklyn Law School, “One person’s quiet hum is another’s racket.”

Hefner’s Life “Estate”

Plan of Playboy Mansion Pool and Grotto 2 by Ron Dirsmith

Fox News quoted me in Playboy Mansion for Sale — With One Tenant for Life. It reads, in part,

We called it: In October, we revealed that the Playboy mansion — home to Hugh Hefner and the site of epic parties back in the day — is in need of major renovations. Now, if a new report from TMZ is to be believed, it looks like Hef is finally ready to throw in the towel: Within a month, the crumbling 6-acre estate will be up for sale.

In spite of the 29-room (six-bedroom) Beverly Hills mansion’s decrepit condition, its owner, Playboy Enterprises, hopes to sell it for north of $200 million. Plus, the buyer will have to grapple with another huge catch: According to TMZ, the buyer will have to grant 89-year-old Hef a “life estate,” which means he can continue living there until death parts him from his beloved bachelor pad.

Ummm … who the heck wants to buy a home with someone living in it? Strange as it may seem, “life estate” arrangements are as old as the hills.

“Life estates go way back to the earliest roots of the common law, and they are great for providing for someone to live in his or her own home until death,” says David Reiss, research director at the Center for Urban Business Entrepreneurship at Brooklyn Law School. “Effectively, a life estate grants the [original owner] many of the indicia [characteristics] of full ownership for the rest of his life. Upon death, complete ownership of the property can pass to another. A common example would be where a husband bequeaths a life estate in the home to his wife, with the remainder to his children upon her death.”

But Hefner’s deal differs in one key way: He’s not bequeathing his home to family members or even a deserving Playboy bunny, but to an as-yet unknown third party who’ll be forking over millions to move in once Hef passes on.

 “This seems like a version of a reverse mortgage, because it frees up equity in the home during the owner’s lifetime without interfering too much with his use and enjoyment of the property,” Reiss continues.

But this privilege will likely drag down the asking price, a lot. While the listing price may be $200 million, most experts say that $80 million to $90 million is more realistic.

“The life estate would likely significantly reduce the fair market of the property, because the purchaser must defer taking possession as well as other aspects of ownership — renovating it, for example — until the death of the life tenant,” Reiss says. “Moreover, the purchaser must deal with the uncertainty of the life estate: Will it end in a year or in 10 years?”

And aside from these uncertainties, there’s the question of liability. Without adequate legal protection, the owner could be responsible for any damage to the property or its inhabitants. Granted, Hef is 89 and probably passes his days playing chess, but if Playboy bunnies continue to hop in and out, anything could happen.

“What if there’s a fire and the place burns down? What if Hefner falls down and breaks his hip?” asks Wendy Flynn, a Realtor in College Station, TX. “After all, it is known as a party house.”

All in all, if you’re salivating for a piece of Playboy history, make sure to man up your legal team to protect you from all that could go wrong before you’re able to take possession. And even though the mansion is a decent candidate for a tear-down, “don’t start spending money on plans for the property,” Reiss adds.

Even though Hef is already past the average U.S. male’s life expectancy of 84.3, “a lot can happen before possession of the property is actually conveyed.”