Fixer-upper.

LUIS SOLER GREW UP IN ALPHABET CITY, TOUGH turf on New York City's Lower East Side. During the 1970s and '80s, the neighborhood--named for the Avenues A, B, C, and D that run through it--was notorious for drugs and crime. His family endured the kind of heartbreak that was far too typical at that time--lives ruined by drugs, lives ended violently.

Despite its tight-knit Hispanic community and vibrant cultural life, Alphabet City resembled a war zone then. "I recall vacant stores and burned-down buildings," Soler said. But Alphabet City taught him how to struggle and survive, and he remained loyal to the neighborhood.

While Soler was attending New York's John Jay College, thinking about becoming a lawyer, he found himself embroiled in a bitter housing dispute. Back in the early 1980s, his tenement at 195 Stanton Street was in the middle of a neighborhood about to undergo a dramatic makeover.

As more affluent people began moving into Alphabet City, many of the area's landlords saw dollar signs and were determined to remove old tenants--many of whom were locked into rent-controlled or stabilized apartments--by any means necessary. They would shut off the heat or withhold repairs. Some would even remove staircases or set small, "strategic" fires meant to produce a ceiling collapse, both causes for vacate orders from the city.

"But we didn't run, we stayed in the apartments," says Soler, who with his neighbors created a tenants' association. They ended up organizing a rent strike and bringing their landlord to court to force him to maintain the property--twice. One unorthodox housing judge actually walled out of the courtroom to the building site to inspect the landlord's alleged repairs. He was not satisfied and sided with the tenants.

The battle motivated Soler to put his Catholic faith into action, and instead of becoming a lawyer, he ended up devoting much of his personal and professional life to the cause of affordable housing. Soler has worked for the New York City Housing Authority for over 10 years. Today he is director of community operations, overseeing NYCHA's 21 community centers and 13 senior centers in Manhattan.

Soler also personally organized the urban homesteading of a building on East 4th Street. He put together a group of families who were willing to make a sweat-equity commitment in exchange for financial assistance and building materials from the city. The homesteaders additionally secured a grant from the Home Housing and Assistance Program. In return, two apartments were set aside as transitional housing for homeless families. Soler still lives there today with his wife and two sons, as do many of the original tenants.

When he was growing up "meditating and talking to God helped me more than the social services I didn't get." Soler is willing to give 100 percent in order to effect a positive change but with implicit faith that God will determine the outcome. "Accept things the way they are and ask God for help," he says. "You can tall to God anywhere."

That serenity has often worked to his advantage.

DURING THE TURBULENT 1990S, SOLER WAS A MEMBER AND then chairperson of the Manhattan Community Board, District 3. Father Jack Podsiadlo, who has known Soler since he was a "skinny kid with a 'fro" at Nativity Mission Center Middle School, remembers the circus-like community planning meetings Soler conducted. "I saw people actually throw chairs at each other," says Podsiadlo. Somehow Soler managed to preside calmly over the whole crazy spectacle.

Prayer-centered serenity has also served Soler well in his personal life, particularly when his wife Rosie was diagnosed with colon cancer a few years ago. Together the family fought the disease and beat it. He is fiercely proud of the cohesiveness of his family and the relationship he has with his wife and sons, Luis and Miguel. "It's a great unit," he says.

Podsiadlo and Soler still cross paths from time to time. They used to meet annually on Good Friday for a joint parish Stations of the Cross through the streets of the Lower East Side. Invariably the walk would evolve into an update on the areas housing situation. As they strolled through the stations, Soler would point out the buildings that were recently homesteaded, the ones being converted to senior housing, or those that were sold to private developers and how much they were going to charge.

"For me, that's a metaphor for Luis," says Podsiadlo of Soler's unique version of the Stations of the Cross. "He combines the religious and the social activist."

Soler is not bitter about the gentrification of his neighborhood because he and others have preserved the areas Latin and Bohemian flavor. And he is proud of the neighborhood's economic diversity, as well. Within a few blocks of four homeless shelters are some of Manhattan's most expensive luxury condominiums and high-end rental units, all fully occupied. Because of the small victories he and his housing allies achieved over the years, Soler and his fellow tenants remain in Alphabet City and can enjoy the improving civic life that their hard work helped make possible.

Remembering the bombed-out look of Alphabet City's past, he marvels, "You walk around today and there is no such thing as an empty store." Not a bad community building job at all.

Article and photo by DEIRDRE CLARKE, an elementary school teacher and freelance writer living in Blauvelt, New York.

LUIS SOLER

DIRECTOR OF COMMUNITY OPERATIONS FOR THE N.Y.C. HOUSING AUTHORITY

PARISH: Most Holy Redeemer

FAVORITE MUSIC: Salsa.

FAVORITE MEAL: Pernil (roast pork) or arroz con gradonles.

BEST ADVICE YOU'VE EVER RECEIVED

The Golden Rule.

WORST ADVICE YOU'VE EVER RECEIVED

Do for yourself.

YOUR MOST SINFUL WASTE OF TIME

Solitaire--with real cards, not on the computer.

WHAT YOUR PARENTS TAUGHT YOU

Always respect adults and stay out of trouble.