Tenement Wall Polyps

Growing up in low-rent apartments, I gradually became aware of what I shall call "wall polyps". Until someone informs me of an existing term for this phenomenon, mine will have to do. A wall polyp is an unexplained lump or protrusion on the wall (and often on molding, as well, but I wanted a short, catch term, and "wall and molding polyps" seemed cumbersome).

Wall polyps are not unique to New York, but they are native to older housing stock. Newly built houses and apartments do not have wall polyps; wall polyps are by definition an attribute of older buildings, and un-renovated older housing at that. Thus it is the poor and the bohemian who are most prone to living with wall polyps, as they are most prone to developing real bodily polyps, as well, I suppose.

Growing up in tenements on the lower east side, my first understanding of walls and ceilings was of bumpy, uneven things. Smooth, perfect walls and ceilings were a revelation to me. The walls I knew were old plaster walls, often buckled out like topographical maps, slashed with arcing cracks like Amazon tributaries, large patches of brown, rough undercoat plaster exposed like continents, splintery wooden lath exposed like the ribs of the world. Ceilings were either of similar dynamic plaster or were covered in pressed tin patterns, the tin in turn often buckled, with peeled paint revealing copper features.

None of the above are wall polyps, but they help explain why wall polyps seemed so natural to me, and why it took me some time to distinguish them as distinct creatures in the taxonomy of the tenement.

Wall polyps are typically discovered by residents suddenly noticing something amid the tumult of the wall surface and exclaiming something along the lines of, "What the hell is that?". Please forgive me if the following sub-types are vague or overlapping, and further refinements and suggestions from readers are greatly encouraged:

WALL NUB POLYP: Probably the largest group of wall polyps. Upon inspection, these nubs commonly appear to be some sort of plumbing. Identifying any wall polyps is made more difficult by the dozens of layers of paint with which such polyps are inevitably caked. Perhaps the most common form of wall nub is the capped pipe, a round, flat-headed cap plugging the end of a pipe protruding from the wall. Tapping on any wall polyps is helpful, and in this case the metallic sound aids identification greatly. The question regarding the Capped-Pipe-Wall-Nub-Polyp is, as with all wall polyps, why the hell is it there? Capped-Pipe-Wall-Nub-Polyps are especially mysterious in rooms that give no appearance of being, or ever having been, either a bathroom or kitchen (although they are very often found in just such rooms).

Wall pipes are generally assumed to be of two types: water and gas. Capped-Pipe-Wall-Nub-Polyps found in kitchens might be either, and those found in bathrooms are to be assumed to be water, although the occasional (now absent) gas-powered clothes dryer is not to be ruled out. This usually resolves to sufficient satisfaction the identity of Capped-Pipe-Wall-Nub-Polyps. However, what is one to make of Capped-Pipe-Wall-Nub-Polyps that nose out of the old plaster in bedrooms, closets, hallways, etc.? Research and conversations with elderly tenants reveals that many old closets contained sinks to form a vanity, and some current apartment closets enjoyed early careers as hallway shared toilets for the whole building.

Capped-Pipe-Wall-Nub-Polyps up high on the wall are, most likely, the remains of ancient gas lighting. The "gas lighting" answer is, in fact, wonderfully broad in application for many wall polyps. However, beware that once you have decided, or even speculated, that your wall polyps were once gas jets, you may become prone to the nagging anxiety that they are perhaps still full of explosive gas. Old gas trapped in the pipes for 80 years might still explode, who knows? And maybe they are still connected to the current, active gas lines. A building handled with sufficient laziness and inattention as to contain wall polyps cannot calm a resident as to the thoroughness of Victorian gas pipe removal, capping, disconnection, or whatever would be required for the pipe over your bed not to leak invisible gas to suffocate you in your sleep or catch a spark of a nail pounded into the wall and blow you out into the airshaft.

A relative of the Capped-Pipe-Wall-Nub-Polyp is the Stranded-Anonymous-Control-Device-Polyp. This category consists of various sorts of valves, knobs, and other things that connect to pipes and seem to turn, or to have once turned. Some of these look like the valve handle of modern gas pipes, if quaintly antique, but again are buried in accretions of paint. Some are the round, flower-like knobs that are like the testicles of sinks, hanging down in pairs under the cabinet. Many Stranded-Anonymous-Control-Device-Polyp are all but completely buried in the plaster of the wall, while others stand out completely free. Most are stuck shut, but the ones that can be manipulated are perhaps even more troubling. For the thing about Stranded-Anonymous-Control-Device-Polyps is that, A) one does not know to what system, if any, they are attached, and B) whether they are in the "on" or "off" position. Stranded-Anonymous-Control-Device-Polyps that can be turned may wake you up inn the middle of the nigh to turn them the other way. Based on how you have turned it, or what position it is stuck in, are you now safe or endangered? If nothing has happened so far, will the pipe behind the valve suddenly fill with pressured water of gas if your neighbor wakes up one night and turns his Stranded-Anonymous-Control-Device-Polyp one way while you have turned yours in the other?

The second major category of wall nubs is the non-plumbing-nub. These may be round, oval, square, crenulated, or nearly any shape. The hard version often turn out to be pieces of buried molding or other ornamentation. Also common among this category is the mysterious-little-wall-tit, which consists of around mound like the top of a cup cake topped with a nub, or nipple. General consensus holds that these are vestigial bell-buttons, or buzzer-buttons, used to summon maids or butlers or children or slaves or God-knows-who. These are particularly maddening and alluring to teenage boys and young lesbians. A modern variant on the mysterious-little-wall-tit is the disconnected intercom, which is more easily recognizable, but may date from as far back as the 1940's and may be rendered sufficiently indistinct by layers of paint as to cause puzzlement.

The soft version of the non-plumbing-nub is often the most disturbing. Upon being poked, the bulge in the wall proves itself pliant and weirdly fleshy. These soft nubs are usually bubbling paint caused by water leakage in the walls, very hot weather, latex paint applied over oil paint, etc. Nonetheless, sufficient numbers of disgusting, impossible causes hover just beyond articulation to render these soft nubs highly disturbing. Dragging a piece of furniture in front of one is the standard solution.

APARTMENT DOOR POLYPS: A number of forms of wall polyps (again, remember my earlier disclaimer regarding the name) appear on apartment doors between the apartment and the public hallway. Many strange lumps can be barely made out under the many layers of paint on these doors. Anything along the knob-side of the door can be assumed to be some manner of defunct key-hole, unless other evidence exists to suggest otherwise. Anything in the center panel of the door can be assumed to be either A) a defunct peep hole, or B) a defunct bracing bar or lateral bar, hook, or some-such, although defunct knockers or broken-off door numbers are not to be absolutely excluded. Polyps on the molding around the door on the hallway side may be presumed to be some long-buried bell.

Once, upon entering the house of a good friend, I noticed that she had a little metal object nailed to her doorway molding at a diagonal angle. I mentioned to her how odd it was that I had a wall nub of roughly that size and shape on my doorway at home, and now that I thought about it I had seen many such diagonal lumps in old tenement buildings. My friend shook her head in pity or disgust and filled me in on the Jewish practice of placing a Mezuzah (sp?) at all of their doorways as a religious practice. Thus at least some wall nubs are evidence of previous religions and eras, like lost civilizations buried in the rain forest.

SNAKE POLYPS: This category of wall polyps consists of writhing, snake-like polyps. These snake polyps typically run along baseboards and other molding throughout the apartment. Usually caked with many layers of paint, snake polyps cane at first be hard to discern from molding detailing. Some of these snakes are smooth, some twist in a kind of braid, some are perfectly round and some are flattened. One assumes that these snake polyps are old wires of various sorts and not, in fact, the circulatory system of a building which in fact has come to life and sunk roots down into the water mains under the streets and is slowly, slowly digesting its inhabitants.

A curious investigator may find telephone wires (copper, plastic, some ancient ones wrapped in paper), electrical wires (some ancient and wrapped in cloth), cable TV wires, intercom wires, and many utterly unidentifiable wires. Be careful, as some may still be live and may shock you, or bring your neighbor shouting about his lights, or cause your doorbell to ring in the middle of the night. It is often impossible to tell what these wires do, and usually impossible to follow them from one room to the next. One must never, ever pull these snakes out. Who knows what will happen.

FAUX WALL POLYPS: Just as wall polyps often defy definition of their original (or current) purpose, many objects in your apartment may seem to serve a function but are, in fact, wall polyps. Two quick examples are the light switch that turns nothing on (or does it?) and the radiator that never gets hot. Professional still argue over the proper place in the old building taxonomy for the shadow-fireplace and the creepy dumb-waiter shaft at the back of your closet.

Thank you, and good night.