Jay Martin does not relish being the center of attention.
That may seem counterintuitive or just wrong, given how prolific Martin is on social media and how often he is quoted speaking on behalf of owners of rent-stabilized buildings in New York.
But he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of a photo shoot for this story, and he started the interview with a light-hearted warning that he doesn’t think he is as interesting as former subjects of “The Closing,” since he’s not a billionaire and doesn’t have a reality television show.
As executive director of the Community Housing Improvement Program, a landlord group that represents more than 4,000 rent-stabilized owners, he has had to be front and center. This is a pivotal moment for the group. It is in the process of merging with another landlord organization, the Rent Stabilization Association, and it is emerging, somewhat bruised, from a fierce state budget fight.
Martin fought for the “Local Regulated Housing Restoration Adjustment” bill, which would have permitted owners of stabilized buildings to reset the rents of vacant regulated apartments that have been continuously occupied for 10 or more years. The measure, however, lost out to a budget provision with tightly regulated increases on how much landlords can hike rent after renovating stabilized units — a change largely regarded as inadequate by landlords.
It is not clear what title Martin will hold at the newly merged organization, dubbed the New York Apartment Association, but he expects to keep lobbying on the group’s behalf.
As for why he is so active on social media, Martin thinks it is important to counter messaging from Housing Justice for All and other tenant-focused groups, to ensure that lawmakers hear from the landlord side.
“If there are other people doing what I’m doing, as loud as I am, I would not be doing it,” he said. “I just feel like it’s necessary until we start changing the tide.”
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
Born: July 13, 1982
Hometown: Bethlehem, Pennsylvania
Lives: West Village
Family: Single
“How do you know where the problems are? You talk to the people who are having problems: What’s going on in your building? What’s your arrears balance today? What’s your craziest eviction story?”
What were you like as a kid?
My childhood wasn’t the best, but I would get obsessed with certain topics and issues. There was a period, I wanted to be a priest. They talked to everybody, and everybody listened to them. Then I realized I can’t get married and couldn’t have a family. So then marine biology was my thing. My career has kind of done that as well. I stumble upon issues where I feel like nothing is really moving on it. I’ll feel compelled, that this is … a calling, [which] is really cliché, but I feel like this is what I have to be working on.
What was your church denomination?
My grandparents are Catholic. I went to Catholic high school. It didn’t stick. I cherish the traditions of it, but not so much the strictness.
You’ve had firsthand experience with the threat of eviction. Can you talk about that?
My father was an alcoholic. He was tied up with drugs, and he was very abusive to both my mother and I. By the time I was about 4, my mother finally left him and took me with her. But she had me when she was 18, so she didn’t have a lot of resources. Right after they separated, it was very difficult for us. We were able to get an apartment, and within six months, she was working two jobs. She couldn’t keep up with the bills.
What was your landlord like?
We had a very good relationship. She used to cook for us, she was very much part of the family. We probably didn’t have an actual lease. It was literally like a granny flat in this woman’s house. She let us stay there for at least six months without any rent. It just got to the point where she couldn’t do it anymore. I think about that every day. It’s not a story I just tell for the sake of my job. That informed me. I grew up fast, learning the importance of trying to make enough money to pay for where you live. I have a fundamental belief that there’s a balance. Look, I know all property owners are not the same. I know there are bad actors. My belief in government is that it should be solving problems.
Are you a homeowner?
I don’t own in the city, I rent. My best friend and I, last April, went 50/50 on an Airbnb in the Poconos. We’ve only rented it like three times so far. I love to get out of the city on weekends. The hope was that we’d be able to outweigh some of the mortgage payments with renting it out on Airbnb. I don’t have the time to run the Airbnb as much as I need to.
How did your grandparents inspire your interest in politics?
My grandfather was in the union, but my grandmother was always pushing him to get more involved. Even though he was the shop steward, the head of the grievance committee at Bethlehem Steel, she was — for lack of a better word — the power behind the throne. She loved the idea that anyone could make an impact. She loved going to these events, and being able to talk to lawmakers and saying, this is not working. Her perception of government, coming from Mexico, was that government [was] this esoteric thing that is not so much something that answers to people.
Your first job in government was working for state Sen. Jeff Klein, leader of the Independent Democratic Conference, a group of Democratic lawmakers that allied with Republicans. What did you learn from him?
I learned everything I know now, primarily because the first 18 months or so it was constituent service. Jeff, for all his faults, had an amazing constituent service operation in the Bronx. That’s where I learned you can help people, make change. How do you know where the problems are? You talk to the people who are having problems. That’s how I operate CHIP. Every day, I talk to 10 to 15 owners. I’m constantly texting, I’m calling: What’s going on in your building? What’s your arrears balance today? What’s your craziest eviction story?
Are you still in contact with Klein, following the accusations of sexual harassment against him?
I still talk to Jeff. That was an extremely upsetting time. We never really talked about it, to be honest with you. You know, you work with somebody, you become like family. I’m very loyal to people who I work with. I don’t think that forgives anyone. Brothers and sisters, they do terrible things. They don’t stop being your brothers and sisters.
You feel the industry did not brace for the “blue wave” in 2019. Do you think the end of the IDC made the broader shift more apparent to you?
I’m naturally a moderate, politically speaking. It spoke to me to try and put policy over politics. Trump changed everything. Policy was irrelevant. I think that has changed the trajectory of New York politics completely. You can’t be seen as somebody who puts policy over party, because if you say my party isn’t more important than my policy, you suddenly stand for anti-abortion. Or LGBTQ rights, you’re against that, which as a gay man, it’s like, what? Or you’re against immigration. Suddenly now it’s teams, you’re against everything. [Now you’re] seeing very good lawmakers, moderates, get completely wiped out because they weren’t willing to say, I want to put politics over policy.
The industry was not prepared for it at all. It’s one thing being loyal, throwing a few bucks to a campaign because they helped you back when they were the majority, but it’s another to think like, “Oh, there’s a legitimate path, Republicans are gonna come back.” Just not happening, guys.
Have you ever considered running for office yourself?
Never. It’s mostly because it ends up being more about you as a person, and not about what your ideas are.
How did you end up at CHIP?
Honestly, it’s crazy. A headhunter called me. I had my résumé out there because I knew that after I got David [Carlucci, former state senator] re-elected for his last term, I wanted to go into something more issue-specific. Housing was one of the issues. [On] LinkedIn, I put out that I was looking for work. I had honestly never heard of CHIP. I’d heard of REBNY, obviously. I had some idea who RSA was. I instantly was drawn to it because it wasn’t REBNY or RSA, because it was an opportunity to build something.
You have approached your job in a different way than the heads of the other landlord groups. Have you found that folks in the industry are resistant to how public-facing you are?
1,000 percent yes. I’m an outlier. I feel at times that I make as many enemies in this industry as friends and allies. The people who don’t like what I’m doing, historically, have been the ones who have benefited from a system where they have access to elected officials that my members don’t have. For so long this industry relied on people to get secret meetings in smoke-filled rooms.
Do you feel like the more modest changes to the individual apartment improvement program will make it harder to get a broader vacancy reset bill passed?
This budget season was like this: What if REBNY drops this entirely new proposal on the table three weeks before the budget? It took us two years to educate people on LRHRA. We amended the law three times. There’s a process to get a bill passed, and it doesn’t involve dropping a bill three weeks out. But right away the industry thought, “They’re REBNY. If they say they can get $150,000 for IAI, and they have the governor with them, why can’t they?” They said, “Okay, well, worst-case scenario, Jay, you can try, and then REBNY will try. Either way, we’ve got two pokers in the fire now.” The result is we’ve got a situation where Sen. [Brian] Kavanagh, who is brilliant, can say, ʻWell, you wanted more help, I doubled the IAI.’ It’s harder to argue we’re still hurting.
Where do you think the New York Apartment Association will fall in the landscape of trade groups?
I’m very excited. I think it’s going to be a chance to continue the work we started with CHIP, to ensure rent-stabilized represents itself. If you go to a lawmaker and say, let’s cut a ribbon in front of a brand-new, beautiful building, that’s a very easy ask. [It’s] much harder to get a lawmaker to stand in front of a rent-stabilized building, and say, “I need to increase my rent, because I don’t have the money to make it better for the tenants in there.”
“We’ve got a situation where Sen. [Brian] Kavanagh, who is brilliant, can say, ‘Well, you wanted more help, I doubled the IAI.’ It’s harder to argue we’re still hurting.”
What’s your biggest extravagance?
Oh, god, food, probably, to the detriment of my health. My grandmother was an amazing cook. My grandfather was big into food. It’s love to me. There’s nothing better to me than having a small intimate meal of four or five people, wine, whatever. That’s great. And cars. Nobody likes cars anymore, but I grew up in Pennsylvania where my first car was a Jeep Wrangler with 144,000 miles on it. I was working at Old Navy folding clothes, and my aunt sold it to me for 1,800 bucks. Having a car signifies independence. [With] my shitty childhood, no matter how bad things are, I get in the car and go for a drive and get away from all this. No matter how stressed I am, I can drive out to my house down in the Poconos on a weekend. I can think, put on some good music. It just puts me in a Zen mindset.
What cars do you have?
I’m leasing an Audi RS 7, which is more than my mortgage payment.
What’s your proudest moment?
Look, I’m very proud of what we’re doing now, and just where I’ve come from and where I am now. If I could talk to myself then … I’m getting emotional.
[Martin gets choked up and takes a moment.]
I don’t want to push, but what would you say to yourself?
I’m OK. It’s cliché, but as long as you try, you can pretty much overcome anything.
Your profile on X says you are an optimist.
That’s what I mean. I carry a lot of baggage, but I use that as motivation. You can always overcome. That’s where my optimism comes from. No matter how bad it is, no matter how fucked up housing is in New York, I think there’s people who are committed to fixing it, and they’re willing to do the work. You may be smarter than me, make more money than me, be better looking than me, you’re never gonna outwork me. As long as I can promise that, then I think there’s a way to fix things.