Continued

Candace Mayer, the housing authority's deputy director, said the agency's lean budget often stifles repairs indicated in the violations: the authority, she said, has a backlog of $20 million in capital repairs. But the agency only receives about $1 million a year from the federal Department of Housing and Urban Development to fix those properties, she said.

Neither Hickey nor Thomas Closter, director of environmental services for the health department, could explain the recent spike in health department citations. Mayer, however, said that one "work item" for her agency - a leaky kitchen ceiling, for instance - can equal several health code violations.

The townhouses on Nottingham Place, which were built in 1990, are the same homes where, nearly three years ago, Raekwon Barrett, now 11, fell from a second-story window, injuring his ankle and head. His mother, Katrina Barrett, has since sued the housing authority. She said that after the accident she hired an inspector who found that the window was rotted.

One tenant at 356 Main Ave. has the dubious distinction of living in the home with the most violations in the city. That tenant, Maribel Torres, painted a grim picture of life in unit C-14.

Many electrical outlets shoot sparks or don't work, she said. Cold air comes through gaps between windows and walls. A broken boiler leaked water into light fixtures in her kitchen. In the fall, she said, she met with two representatives from the housing authority: Director of Maintenance Vincent Dimasi and Mayer. "They told me that everything would be fixed by Thanksgiving," she said, seated at a table
in her small, cramped kitchen.

The holiday came and went, she said, and nothing was done. When the problems were not fixed, Torres called the health department. And
the next day, she said, Anthony Capuano Jr., a health department inspector, compiled a list of problems at her home: The living room windows were not airtight; several electrical outlets were defective; the shower, sink and toilet needed plumbing repairs; the bedroom wall and kitchen ceiling had water damage; there were cockroaches. In all, Capuano issued 32 health code violations.

"It's been like this the whole time I've lived here," said Torres, 31. Dimasi said that he never received Capuano's report. As far as his agency's records indicated, he said, the last time the health department issued violations for Torres' unit was March 2006. As for their fall meeting, Dimasi said Torres mentioned about six problems with her apartment. Mayer said she did not recall the meeting.
Since Capuano wrote that report, Torres said, the housing authority has fixed one problem: a damaged kitchen counter. In the meantime, Torres improvises her own repairs, such as filling in window-frame gaps with foam.

If the housing authority does not respond to the health department's violations within a month, Closter said his department sends a reminder. If that reminder goes unanswered, the health department can take the housing authority to court, he said. But that rarely happens. "They're cooperative," Closter said. "They may have issues with staff, and their response time could be better, absolutely.
We've had meetings with (Housing Authority Director) Curtis Law over the years about that."

Law said in an interview that the authority responds to "95 percent" of the health department's violations in "the time they set forth."
Closter also disagreed with Torres about how many problems had been fixed since Capuano's visit. He put the number of violations that have been addressed at 10 - not one.

A few doors down from Torres, Michelle Vargas has had her own problems with the housing authority. Vargas, 37, said she has lived at 356 Main Ave. since the townhouses were built. She said the rats by the garbage cans outside have always worried her. But for her, a hole in an upstairs bedroom ceiling was far more troublesome.

"My roof leaked for three or four years," she said. Two weeks ago, she said, the housing authority patched the hole. Vargas picked up a digital camera and began scanning through images. She stopped at what appeared to be a ceiling that had been punctured by a shotgun shell. White plaster dripped from a dark perforation.

"You could fit four fingers in there," she said.

In Vargas' experience, her landlord does not respond unless it is an emergency. "You call and you call, but after a while you get tired of
calling," she said. Hickey said the cases of Vargas and Torres are unusual. "We're pretty good in terms of taking care of problems," he said. "Actually, we're very good at turning around problems."

The federal Department of Housing and Urban Development seems to agree with Hickey. HUD pays for most of the authority's homes, according to Hickey, and every few years it inspects the agencies and properties it funds (the average monthly rent at 356 Main Ave. is $194, according to Mayer). They are then graded on a scale from one to 100.

Kristine Foye, a spokeswoman for the state branch of HUD, said the scale consists of four categories: the physical condition of the homes; the effectiveness of management; the agency's finances; and resident satisfaction. The Norwalk Housing Authority, she said, received got a score of 89 - just below what HUD considers a "high performer."

HUD inspectors visited 13 of the 25 townhouses at 356 Main Ave. on Sept. 23, 2005, according to department documents, and issued the housing project an 87. The report noted several problems - such as damaged electrical outlets and broken window panes - but said that there were no "systemic" problems with the houses.

Residents such as Vargas have a different perspective. "Not even an animal should live the way we live," she said.