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Monica Yant Kinney: 'Exclusive' apartments, elusive improvements

Last year, I took heat from the owners of two suburban apartment complexes who felt I had been unfair in documenting their unusual definition of luxury living.

Anjan Veeramalla, a resident at the Marquis Apartments in King of Prussia, stands in front of his building. (Ron Tarver / File)
Anjan Veeramalla, a resident at the Marquis Apartments in King of Prussia, stands in front of his building. (Ron Tarver / File)Read more

Last year, I took heat from the owners of two suburban apartment complexes who felt I had been unfair in documenting their unusual definition of luxury living.

Tenants at the 641-unit Marquis complex in King of Prussia complained of standing sewage, broken elevators, erratic heat, and rodents. Residents in the 535-unit Colonade in Abington griped about maintenance delays and security lapses.

The complexes are owned by Boston-based Metropolitan Properties of America, which touts the apartments as "exclusive" communities, the poshest of the posh. Guess the corporate office didn't get the memo from the Upper Merion code officer who twice threatened to condemn the Marquis as "unfit for habitation."

Fully aware that people and places can change, I told MPA I'd keep an open mind and do an update. A year later, I'd love to report all is well, but that would mean ignoring the steady stream of "Help us!" e-mails from desperate renters, not to mention last month's drug bust at the Marquis and a wild extortion case involving Colonade tenants.

Care to take a dip?

I dropped by the Marquis last week and cruised right through the open gate at the security shack - so much for MPA's claim of hiring guards 24/7. A longtime tenant let me in his building with a door code that hasn't changed in decades.

Walking through the "million-dollar fitness center," I smiled at the reflection from the previously drained indoor pool, since it's a major selling point for leasing agents pushing units that can run $1,500 a month. But when I dipped my hand in, the water was ice-cold.

For a reality check at the Colonade, I called Marshall Jones, a mild-mannered World War II vet.

"It's no better than it was," he lamented. "It might even be worse."

Jones doesn't ask for much, just working elevators, hot water, secure doors, and staff monitoring of the number of people packed into each unit.

He bristles when managers suggest he move if he's unhappy. "I'll be 90 in February," Jones replies. "I'm sort of trapped here."

Abington officials had to take MPA to court last year to fix code violations at the Colonade. The Marquis avoided another citation last month after managers quickly restored heat to frustrated tenants.

"These problems are coming up all the time," said Angela Haris, Upper Merion's property maintenance officer. "I keep telling people to get together and talk to a lawyer."

Know thy neighbor

In a written statement, a company VP contended the buildings were "a safe suburban community comprised of students and young families." Indeed, the complexes are home to 2,200 residents, but unfortunately a handful of their worst neighbors have made headlines.

Last month, Charbel Pita Rosales - dubbed "the Kingpin of Prussia" - was arrested and charged with running a suburban outpost of a notoriously violent Mexican drug cartel out of Apartment C-612 at the Marquis.

District Attorney Risa Vetri Ferman said the dealer had chosen the sprawling complex on purpose, hoping to go unnoticed. When police and Drug Enforcement Administration agents searched the apartment, authorities said, they found more than a kilo of coke, a drug scale, bullets, multiple cell phones, IDs, and passports.

Meanwhile at the Colonade, a first-floor tenant in the Manor Building discovered his apartment robbed and ransacked in early December. Soon after, he received a bold extortion note:

We know who you are. Pay us and get your stuff back.

"They wanted $100,000," Abington Police Sgt. Mike Gallagher said, "so we arranged for a meeting at the Willow Grove Mall."

There, a decoy dropped off the money bag and waited. Three men were arrested, at least one of whom had lived across the hall from the victim before getting evicted.

"It was a party place rented under false pretenses," Gallagher relayed. "The victim said there were always people coming and going."