The Economics of Old Buildings
What 267 years of accumulated maintenance taught me about preservation and paying for the past
Old buildings reward humility and punish romanticism: treated well, they age gracefully. Done casually, they eat your lunch.
Over the past two years, I took over management of a 24-unit building built in 1903; and purchased and renovated a 3-family building built in 1880. That’s 267 years of accumulated maintenance. The trees used for the 3-family’s flooring were alive when Benjamin Franklin was writing with quill. They were likely saplings during the witch hunts in 1690s Salem. This is to say, sometimes history is under your foot. But unlike a museum, you are in charge of the maintenance bill.
In my younger years I was perplexed by energetic support for real estate preservation. It felt like a euphemism for refusal to change, a knee jerk reaction from the old. But as I age alongside the floors, the truth reveals itself. Preservation is what makes one room feel full and welcoming, and another lonely and sterile. Taking on an old building fills the heart, but it hurts the head too. Let’s look at some lessons learned.
Some historical systems are liabilities, not charms
The 24-unit building, in Lynn, MA, has a 100+ year old elevator. It breaks down regularly–and it’s not cute. We raised dues by 30% in 2024 to get ahead of the constant break–bandaid fix cycle. It’s set to consume 20% of our budget before long-term resolution in 2025. A healthy elevator should consumer <5%. Not only this, but there’s a 2021 lawsuit our insurer’s attorney is still responding to. It named the homeowner’s association as liable for a lease that implied a working elevator.
We cycled through three elevator contractors in two years before hiring a consultant. The first ghosted us after we requested a summary of work. If you are out of your wits on a technical building problem, take a look at consultants. Make sure they strictly consult, and aren’t contractors, to align incentives. Ours confirmed that further repair, rather than a $500,000 replacement, was prudent. They also put us in touch with the contractor we use to this day. It was the best $2,250 we spent on that dastardly elevator. The root cause of the headache is a 100 year old steel drum. The elevator moves by the winding and release of this drum. Drum-elevator installations were banned in the 1930s-1940s. Today, the few technicians that understand them wield immense power. Avoid them altogether if you can. Otherwise, hire a consultant and expect elevate-d maintenance bills.
Materials last only as long as their weakest fastener
Folk wisdom says that “slate roofs last forever.” But those folks haven’t been to North Adams, Massachusetts, the land of late 19th century buildings and slate–to–asphalt conversions. Intuitively, rock-based shingles should last forever–rocks have lasted millions of years. But those ancient stones are held up by rusty, man-made nails. Those nails last about 100 years. When you find one of the three 60 year old guys working on slate, get used to his presence. He will be back every two years with a $500 bill. To repair one tile, several others often get broken, which drives up the cost. When one nail rusts out, more follow. For this reason many homeowners with old slate roofs convert to asphalt shingle.
Last week a North Adams landlord called to sell his early 1900s building. He used the slate roof as a selling point, “it’s slate, it lasts forever.” If I didn’t know better I would have moved forward. Instead I discounted my offer by $30,000. He’s holding out for someone that doesn’t understand slate.
Assume nothing is insulated
A friendly landlord tipped me off to knock on my walls. I protested–what, to say hello? No, it was to listen for a hollow ring. Sure enough, my walls sounded like a drum. I called MassSave to schedule an inspection. What they found I could not believe, my walls had zero insulation. I had the fanciful idea that houses of this era were stuffed with wool. It was wood siding, a few inches of nothing, and the interior plaster-and-lath wall.
MassSave generously covered much of the $10,000 insulation bill. They blew in cellulose (shredded paper) in the wall cavities, installed foam boards into the attic rafters, weatherstripped the doors and sealed the foundation drafts with a foam spray. On one unit, the gas bill dropped from $205 in November 2025 to $133 in December 2025. Prior to their work, the inspector required a couple work orders. I was to certify the absence of knob-and-tube wiring (fire risk) and reduce the carbon monoxide output of a boiler. $1,300 later, I was ready to rock and roll.
Electrical systems remember every shortcut
In one unit, the microwave, refrigerator, electric stove, coffee machine and a few lights were all on the same circuit. The breaker had triggered so many times that it failed. Of course it failed at night, but the tenant was kind and agreed to non-emergency electrician service the following day. He separated the microwave and lights onto a new circuit for $450. Thankfully the electrical panel had space for the additional breaker. There have been no issues since.
Forgiving materials age better than rigid ones
Foundations went from mortaring big rocks together, to cut stone blocks, to concrete, to reinforced concrete with vapor barriers. My building is in the big rocks era. I’ll spare you the history of the rocks (just kidding—Ice Age glaciers tilled them up from deep in the ground), but I will share my journey with a damp basement. Water is the enemy of field stone foundations. It sneaks into cracks, freezes, and widens the crack. Over time it finds its way into the basement creating moisture. This begets mold and weakens wood beams, among other problems. The prior owner had covered most of the dirt floor (another source of moisture) with concrete and installed pipes to route the seeping water to a pump. While helpful, the basement was still moist in the spring and summer. The final solution came from none other than MassSave. Despite my skepticism, they installed a thick plastic sheet over the water’s route and remaining dirt. I now get chapped lips walking into the basement.
Field stone gets a bad rap, but in some ways it’s a great system. The lime and stone are comfortable getting wet and drying repeatedly, unlike concrete. They also fail slowly and visibly, allowing for repair. Concrete foundations can fail without warning, creating a false sense of security. These primitive foundations have outlasted early 20th century concrete foundations. Many expect them to outlast reinforced midcentury concrete as well. The real matchup to watch is modern, insulated concrete form (ICF) foundations and field stone. ICF vs field stone foundation failure is the slowest race no one is watching. The race will outlast any living person today.
Old buildings shine in their old-growth wood floors and field stone foundations (if the water is managed properly). But watch out for elevators, overloaded circuits, inferior insulation, and failing slate roofs. After two years of stewardship, I can say it was worth the learning curve.