Tower Plaza

A concrete tower at nearly sixty years

Reinforced concrete buildings of this era are durable and well understood, and they reach an age at which specific things need attention. None of this is alarming; all of it is expensive if deferred, and all of it is documented if the association has been doing its job.

The facade and structure come first. Concrete exposed to weather and to freeze-thaw cycles over decades develops issues that need periodic survey and repair — and in a twenty-six story building any exterior work requires access equipment before a single repair is made, which is a substantial cost in itself. Balconies, where present, are the most exposed elements of all and are typically the first to need attention.

So the question to ask is when the facade was last surveyed, by whom, what it found, and what has been done since. A building with a recent engineering survey and a program of work behind it is in a materially better position than one without, and a board that has commissioned one will say so.

Elevators second. In a twenty-six story building they are not a convenience but the means of access, and modernization — controllers, machine, cab, doors — is the single largest recurring capital item most towers face. Ask when the elevators were last modernized. Original or long-unmodernized equipment in a building of this age means that expense is ahead rather than behind.

Central systems third. Towers of this period commonly have central heating and cooling plant serving every unit rather than individual equipment, which means the association owns very large machinery on its own replacement cycle, and that heating or cooling is likely included in the assessment rather than metered per unit.

Then the risers — the plumbing, electrical and ventilation that run vertically through the building. In a building of this age these are original unless the association has replaced them, and replacing a riser means working through occupied units.

The reserve study is what tells you where all of that stands, and in a tower of this age it is the most important document in the transaction by a wide margin.

The era's other questions

A late-1960s building also raises the ordinary era questions, adapted to a multi-story context.

Lead-based paint disclosure applies to anything built before 1978, and this building predates it comfortably.

Materials of the period can include asbestos in pipe and boiler insulation, in some floor tiles and adhesives, in fireproofing and in some ceiling treatments. In a commercial-scale building this is an ordinary and well-managed matter rather than an unusual one — identification is straightforward, undisturbed material in good condition is generally managed in place, and any association of this vintage will have a management position on it. Ask what it is.

Windows and glazing of the era are single-glazed or early double-glazed unless replaced, and in a tower window replacement is a building-wide project rather than a unit-by-unit one, because the windows are almost certainly common or limited common element. Whether that has been done, and when, is a large question for both comfort and cost.

Electrical capacity in units of this period was designed for the loads of the time. Whether a unit's service supports modern demand — and whether the building's capacity supports upgrading it — is worth asking.

And balconies, where present, are both an amenity and a structural element with an inspection and repair history that belongs in the association's records.

Combined units, and why the paperwork matters

In older buildings, adjacent units are sometimes combined into one larger home — two units knocked through, or several at the top made into a single floor. It is a common and often excellent thing to have done, and it raises a question people rarely ask.

A Michigan condominium's units are defined by the master deed and shown on its exhibit drawings. Combining two units changes what those documents describe, and doing it properly requires an amendment to the master deed, recorded with the county, reflecting the new unit and reallocating the percentage of value.

Where that was done, everything is clean: the recorded description matches the physical reality, one assessment applies, and title passes without difficulty.

Where it was not — and it frequently was not, particularly with older combinations — the building still legally contains two units that physically are one. That can mean two assessments, two votes, a legal description that does not match what a buyer walks through, and a title or lending complication that surfaces late in a transaction when somebody finally reads the documents carefully.

So on any combined unit the questions are: was the combination approved by the association, was the master deed amended, and is the amendment recorded?

The same logic applies to any alteration touching common elements — moving a wall that is structural, altering a balcony, changing a window. The bylaws set what requires approval, and unapproved work becomes the new owner's problem.

Studios to penthouses is not one market

A building running from efficient studios to combined penthouse plans holds several genuinely different products under one roof, and treating the building as a single market is the most common error made about it.

A studio serves a specific and durable buyer: people who want a downtown base with minimal cost and maintenance, and for whom the location does the work the square footage would otherwise have to. In a university city, that pool also includes buyers who intend to lease — which is why the building's leasing rules matter to value as much as to living.

A combined penthouse plan is at the other extreme: a scarce product with a small, geographically wide buyer pool, high floors and views that nothing else in the city offers, and a comparable set that may have no recent member. The analysis for such a unit has to be constructed rather than looked up.

Between them sit the ordinary one and two bedroom plans, which are where most of the transaction volume is and where the comparable data actually lives.

So match on plan type and floor before anything else. Floor is a genuine and priceable variable in a tower — light, view, noise and even the practical experience of the elevators differ materially between a low floor and a high one, and none of it appears in the square footage.

Orientation matters as much. In a building of this height, which way a unit faces determines the view, the afternoon heat, and how much of the downtown's evening activity reaches it.

Living in downtown Ann Arbor, in practical terms

Downtown is the reason to be here, and the everyday realities are worth setting out plainly rather than discovering.

Parking is the first and largest. What comes with a unit — a deeded space, an assigned space, a right to rent one, or nothing — is a genuine component of value downtown, and the difference between a unit with deeded parking and one without is substantial and permanent. Establish whether a space is deeded, assigned or merely available, whether it can be sold or leased separately, and what the monthly cost is if it is not included. Where there is no space, find out what the alternatives actually cost and whether they are secured or waiting-list.

Noise is the second. A downtown with restaurants, bars, music venues and a university generates evening and weekend activity, and how much reaches a particular unit depends on floor, orientation, glazing and what is below and beside it. This is the single most variable thing between two units in the same building, and the only reliable test is to be there on a Friday evening with the windows shut and then open.

The university is the third, and it works in several directions at once. It underpins the local economy and the demand for downtown housing in a way few employers could. It also produces a large seasonal population, football Saturdays that transform this part of the city seven or eight times a year, and a rental market that shapes what buildings do about leasing.

Then the ordinary conveniences that are the point: everything within walking distance, no car needed for most errands, and a level of activity that some people want and others do not. Neither reaction is wrong, and both are better formed by spending an evening here than by reading about it.

And service and delivery access, refuse arrangements and moving logistics are all different in a downtown building than in a house — worth asking a resident about rather than assuming.

What a high-rise association actually owns, and has to fund

A high-rise is the most capital-intensive form of housing there is, and its association carries components no subdivision and few low-rise condominiums ever face. Understanding the list is most of what a buyer needs.

Elevators first. They are the single largest recurring capital item in most towers: a modernization — controllers, machine, cab, doors — is a very substantial sum per car, and it comes due on a cycle measured in decades rather than centuries. A building with original or long-unmodernized elevators has that expense ahead of it, and it is not optional, because an elevator that cannot be maintained takes the building out of use floor by floor.

The facade second. Whatever the exterior is — concrete, masonry, curtain wall, panel — it needs periodic inspection and repair, and in a tower that means access equipment, which is expensive before any work is done. Balconies are part of this and are frequently the most demanding part, because they are exposed on every side.

Central systems third. Many towers have a central boiler, chiller or both, serving every unit, rather than individual furnaces. That is convenient and it means the association owns and replaces very large plant — and it usually means heating or cooling is included in the assessment rather than metered per unit, so consumption is shared.

Then the roof, the fire protection and alarm systems, the common corridors and lobby, the security and entry systems, any parking structure, and the plumbing and electrical risers that serve every unit.

So the reserve study in a high-rise is not a formality — it is the document that determines whether an owner is buying a home or a series of special assessments. Ask for it, ask when the elevators were last modernized, when the facade was last surveyed and repaired, and what the central plant's age is. A building that has done that work and rebuilt its reserve is in a materially different position from one approaching it.

And ask about the history of special assessments. In a tower they are larger than most buyers expect, and a building's record of them is the most honest indicator of how it has been run.

What the association documents decide

Buying a condominium unit means buying into a corporation as well as a home, and the corporation's condition is not visible at a showing. Four documents settle it: the master deed and its exhibits, the bylaws, the current budget and the reserve study.

The master deed defines what the unit actually is — where the boundary runs between unit and common elements, and what limited common elements are assigned to its sole use. That is the most misunderstood part of condominium ownership, and it decides who pays for a great many things.

The bylaws set the rules that govern daily life: what may be altered, what may be parked, whether units may be leased and how many at once, and how the board is elected.

The budget and the reserve study together answer whether the association is solvent. An association with thin reserves and a large component near the end of its life is not cheaper — it is a deferred bill with an unknown date, and it arrives as a special assessment.

Board minutes are where a coming expense, a dispute or a construction defect claim surfaces first, and they are the most informative document nobody reads. I go through the recent ones as a matter of course.

One Michigan detail worth knowing: condominium documents are amended by recorded instrument, so what is recorded governs regardless of what any summary says.

Buying or selling here

In a tower of this age, the building's condition and its reserve position are the transaction. The unit is secondary, and that is not an exaggeration.

For a seller, a current reserve study, a recent facade survey, a record of elevator modernization and a clean history of special assessments are worth more than anything inside the unit — because a well-advised buyer will ask for all four, and because they distinguish a well-run building from one that has been deferring.