On Monday afternoon, Ron Bogle, the chair of Hudson's planning board, stood outside the entrance to Bliss Towers, a nine-story affordable housing complex in the northeast corner of Hudson, a few blocks from the river and the railroad tracks. He was joined by most of his fellow board members.
"This is a unique kind of meeting when compared to, say, the meeting when we're in the city hall, sitting around the table," Bogle said.
Built in the early 1970's out of pale yellow concrete and tan brick, the tower and a nearby low-rise called Columbia Apartments are home to about 145 Hudsonians, many of whom have lived there for decades. Bliss Towers has some serious issues - asbestos, roaches, water damage. It has for a long time.
So the Hudson Housing Authority, which operates Bliss Towers, has submitted a plan for a major overhaul. They want to build a new apartment complex on the Bliss Towers site, replacing the tower with three modern apartment buildings. Thanks to potential tax credits from the state, the units would still be affordable. The majority would rent for three to four hundred dollars per month, and no one would have to pay more than 30% of their income toward rent.
But before the planning board can vote on the proposal, Ron Bogle wanted them to visit the site, and try to envision the new development. They were joined on the visit by a dozen or so members of the public.
Jeff Dodson, the executive director of the Hudson Housing Authority, led the group to a grassy park across the street from Bliss Towers, where an architect had spray painted an orange stripe in the grass to show where the far edge of the new building would be.
The board began peppering the architecture team with questions about parking, building height, and potential soil contamination.
And the public, some of whom had taken the time to review versions of the plans posted online had questions of their own. How deep would the pilings in the parking garage extend into the ground? Would state become a one-way street? What will the exterior walls look like? Everyone was trying to picture something that isn't there and might never exist. At one point, an architect set up blueprints on a tripod, and a gust of wind nearly blew them away.
Later, Dodson invited those who were interested inside Bliss Towers. We climbed into an elevator where Jeff introduced the group to a resident named Sue.
Sue warned us that the elevators can be unreliable. She usually takes the stairs, but she couldn't that day.
"I couldn't, because I had open heart surgery, and I'm going for another one,
she said. "Because all my stress is not healing my heart right now."
Dodson punched a button for the ninth floor, and the elevator started climbing. When the ninth floor light came on, the doors opened, but we were only on the fifth floor. The doors then closed abruptly, and the elevator went back down to the lobby. This kind of thing, Sue explained, happens a lot. "I got stuck in this elevator for five hours when I first moved in," she said.
When we finally got up to nine, Dodson showed us hallway floors buckling from water damage, and a vacant apartment where the walls were stained black with mold. A maintenance worker told us there are units like that on every floor. According to a recent estimate, about 40% of the apartments in Bliss Towers are unoccupied because they're too dangerous to live in.
Back outside Bliss Towers, in the courtyard, a tenant named Lizzy Lunton was sitting on a bench. She's lived at Bliss for over 50 years.
"Me and my three kids moved in here in 1974, I believe it was, because they were just little toddlers," she said. "I done seen a lot of people come, I seen a lot of them go. Some died out, you know?"
Not long ago, Lizzy went to a presentation about the plans for the redevelopment. "It's awesome," she said. "I mean, the plan they got going on, it's wonderful, you know, better apartments. You know, something new. I think people deserve, you know, something better. We have good people living this building. We have people, families that want to be better and want to do better."
On the bench next to Lunton, a man with a cane and a straw hat introduced himself as the Reverend Edward Cross. His mother, grandmother, and sisters all lived at Bliss Towers. He's been watching the redevelopment proposal closely. He wants to make sure the housing authority and its partners don't get too focused on design concepts and budgets.
"You know this building is not just built bricks and mortar," said Cross. "It's about the people."
