Page 572 - WhyAsInY

Why (as in yaverbaum)
perceived and unperceived, and, as I also mentioned, we were sitting in the living room with Keith Kroeger on the move-in day, already looking at proposed plans for work that was limited to the back of the house, when Phyllis arrived and Allen Rothman called.
We had heard that Scarsdale was a difficult town to build in. There were fairly tight zoning rules, which is not atypical, but there was also was an institution known as the Architectural Review Board (the “ARB”), which would have to pass on plans just as the Building Department would. The Building Department process was, as it is in most places, relatively straightforward; all you had to do is have an architect who knew the local law and complied with it. If you weren’t doing something that was extreme, such as disobeying the setback, massing, or lot cover- age requirements, not to worry. On the other hand, the ARB was well known to be a difficult group, one that made subjective judgments about the aesthetics applicable to exterior renovations, even if the renovations would not be visible from the street.
We had therefore sought out an architect who was familiar with and known to the ARB. Not only had Keith appeared before it on numerous occasions, he had served on it. So, he was the man. He had inspected the house and had determined that, because the rear windows in both the living room and the dining room were set high in the wall, not a lot of light would come in and the view to the large backyard would be obstructed. Step one in our construction plans was therefore the altera- tion of the back of the house to provide for French doors in both of those rooms. At the time that we would do this, we would also materi- ally extend the flagstone patio and provide large, powered awnings over it. There may have been some other things, but we as yet did not have plans for the room that I really wanted to build, the family room. I had consumed myself for hours trying to conjure up a design for that room, one that would extend into the generous backyard; when I showed my idea to Keith, he, a WASP of the first order, was restrained enough not to laugh, but I did get the message that I would be better off keeping my job as a lawyer (something that, as we shall see in more detail, I did not, at least for a time).
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