Town Houses" Stoops Have Aesthetic and Monetary Value Michael Nagle for The New York Times Alex Barrett and his son, Milo, sat on the stoop in front of their home in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn. The stoop had been ripped out by a previous owner, so Mr. Barrett had one built. When Alex Barrett bought a four-story brick town house in Cobble Hill five years ago, on a picturesque stretch of Henry Street in Brooklyn lined with idyllic homes, it was, he recalled fondly, "the worst one of the block." "It had been painted at some point with this pinky red," he said. It was pretty hideous. In addition to its questionable paint job and Reagan-era renovations, he added, there was another unlovely attribute: The stoop had been ripped off. The look was not ideal. "It's almost like cutting the nose off a face," said Peter Szule, a principal at Moulin & Associates, a residential renovation firm. Or the toes, if you will. But Mr. Barrett's home was only one of many, because while the vast majority of New York City's town houses were built with stoops out front, throughout the 20th century many of these imposing, graceful staircases were unceremoniously lopped off. In recent years, however, preservationists and contractors say that more and more new town house owners, especially in Manhattan and more expensive sections of Brooklyn, are putting the nose back on, adding a new stoop where the original probably stood. An appreciation for history and an aesthetic preference contribute to this decision, they say, but there is also a less subtle driving force: the soaring cost of the houses themselves. "If you can afford to buy a single-family row house now in Manhattan," said Andrew S. Dolkart, the director of the historic preservation program at Columbia University, "you can usually afford to put the stoop back." According to the appraisal firm Miller Samuel, the median price for a Manhattan town house in the second quarter of this year was $3.76 million. Many row houses that lost their stoops, Mr. Dolkart said, did so in the 1920s and "30s, most often because the owners wanted to chop up those grand single-family residences into apartments. By taking off the stoop, he said, they could make the hallway on the parlor floor part of an apartment. "The landlords wanted to make every bit of money they could possibly make," said Arlene Simon, the president of the preservation group Landmark West. But it makes me totally crazy when the stoop is missing. It looks like the building could just float away. Today, many of the buildings where stoops are being restored have spent recent decades as rental apartment buildings, like Mr. Barrett's home in Cobble Hill. Mr. Barrett renovates residential buildings for a living with his company Barrett Design and Development, so he considered the house to be a "blank canvas," and today he has an elegant trophy to show for his efforts. Contractors say building a new stoop can cost from $35,000 to about $100,000, and if it pokes out onto a public sidewalk, the city must be paid a yearly fee for the space. The fee is generally about $1,000, according to the Transportation Department, or only $25 in a Historic Landmark District. But real estate professionals say that in addition to looking nice, a stoop can add to the sale price. "It enhances the value," said Dexter Guerrieri, president of the real estate brokerage firm Vandenberg, the Townhouse Experts. If the stoop is removed, the grand entrance to this beautiful town house is down three steps, right next to the trash cans. Mr. Guerrieri teaches a seminar on how to maximize the value of a town house, and replacing a missing stoop is part of his standard advice. Many developers who specialize in renovating town houses, like Mr. Barrett, say they will always replace the stoop if it is missing. "The exterior of a building is what gives you the first impression," said George Agiovlasitis, founder of the development company Triton Enterprises. It's like when you go to a restaurant and they give you the bread, and you can tell what the rest of the meal is going to be like. "It's a great selling feature," he added about stoops, "because everybody loves it." Indeed, everybody generally does love a good stoop, including hungry strangers who might sit on one to eat a sandwich, or packs of teenagers who might huddle on the steps to sneak a beer. Throughout the city, stoops become de facto public benches - and that suits some homeowners more than others. Mr. Barrett recalled that once, years ago, he sat down on someone else's stoop to make a phone call and found himself confronted a few minutes later by a woman screeching in displeasure. "It's not like I was smoking or drinking or making a lot of noise, but she insisted that I leave her stoop," Mr. Barrett said. I was offended! "So from time to time, we'll come home and some stranger will be sitting on our stoop," he continued, nestled comfortably in front of his door. "And I always say, "That's great; sit here. It's no problem." "