ARB Worries Sign Sends Wrong Signal

By Oliver Lukacs

August 7 -- Sending a clear signal to residential property owners looking to promote their buildings, the Architectural Review Board rejected a proposed 24 square-foot permanent sign at the foot of an apartment complex advertising vacancies.

The sign had been deflected twice by the board, which worried that the "monument" sign's size and placement near the sidewalk made it too prominent, potentially sending the message that the residential neighborhood was transient and commercial.

Board members worried that approving the sign could trigger a domino effect, with similar signs cropping up in from of apartment buildings across the city.

"Anyone with an apartment building can do it, which means you can potentially have pylon signs on every corner," Board member Iris Oliveras said after the meeting.

Oliveras noted that freestanding pylon signs are commonly used by gas stations, hospitals, and stores. The proposed single-sided, internally illuminated 4-foot by 6-foot sign would have bared the name Moss & Company with a phone-number in white letters.

Infuriated by the board's decision, Cindy Grey -- who owns the apartment building at 315 Montana Avenue, where the sign was slated to go -- said she would appeal the decsion to the Planning Commission. She called the board's argument "ludicrous" and accused its members of being "anti-business."

"God forbid you should be trying to operate a business, operate an apartment complex," said Grey, who also is president of Moss & Company, a property management and real estate investment firm. "This is a business, this is not a private home where I'm sticking a sign out in front."

After the meeting Oliveras pointed out the many members of the board are themselves business owners and the body has a proven history of cooperation with the business community.

"The way I see it is, 'Yeah it's a business to you, but it's a home for the people who live there. What we feel, as board members, is that it gives the neighborhood a transient feeling. It makes it look like a revolving door, like these apartments are always available, when in fact they're not."

Grey said that she already had spent more than $2,000 on the sign as part of a general upgrade to the apartment's entrance. She said that she also had made the modifications requested to mitigate any commercial appearance the sign might give.

"But (I'm) not even infuriated because I can't have it," Grey said. "I'm infuriated that they can't tell you what the hell they want. But they don't want anything, that's why they can't tell you.

Grey also echoed the complaints voiced by developers frustrated by the costly time-consuming public process.

"Everything is, 'Make it so difficult so you don't come back. Just go away.' There's no rationale, no reason. No discussion. They just sit up there and play judge and jury."

Oliveras countered that Grey was "uncooperative" from the start, failing even by the third meeting to satisfy the board's requests.

"It's the same complaint you hear from homeowners and business owners when they don't get what they want," Oliveras said. "You're always going to hear that."

Had Grey reduced and integrated the sign with the building in a creative way, as she was repeatedly instructed to do, the board would have okayed it, Oliveras said.

"Her sign was like a regular classified add from a newspaper blown up. It was huge and permanent."

Calling the experience "nightmarish," but not unique, Grey is taking her case to the Planning Commission.