The photo below captures an item so banal that I don’t think it has yet entered popular conversation, and I’m not sure it ever will. It isn’t controversial to my knowledge, and it’s hardly conspicuous enough to arouse ire for visual blight. Yet. Virtually everyone understands why they exist, or if they don’t understand, it takes only a dozen words to explain. But I wouldn’t feature the item if it didn’t have the potential to rise in cultural currency, which I think it’s already doing, for better or worse. In summary, I have a feeling these little items are going to become a bit more salient—an off-color stray thread within the greater urban fabric. So we’ll see how long before the NIMBYs raise a stink. What am I talking about? The outdoor lock box, of course.
I spy three of them on this wrought-iron railing for a short stairwell in a neighborhood in Washington DC. The fact that the railing features more than one should signal exactly where these stairs lead—what type of building it is.
If the glassed doorway and the metal call box to the entry wasn’t already a dead giveaway, it’s a multi-family building. Probably apartments. And more than one tenant has decided he or she needs a lock box for the hide-a-key.
As solid of a hunk of metal as they might be, the average lock box is not expensive. Famed American manufacturer Master Lock offers a lock box akin to the ones on the photo for about $60; Amazon appears to offer more or less the same model for close to half that price. Though I’m sure they have other uses, in the photo above, the lock box represents a modern supplement to the hide-a-key; that is, the back-up key very carefully concealed somewhere around a property’s exterior that allows the property owner/renter, if locked out and keyless for some reason, to get access to his/her home when in a pinch. The hide-a-key concept has been around, I can presume, since the advent of keys; it’s such an elementary idea that it doesn’t even get a Wikipedia page. The classic place to hide a key is under the doormat right before the home’s entrance—it’s such a cliché that only an imbecile would still do such a thing. After all, the hiding place needs to be not just discreet but brilliantly subtle. The key is fundamentally a gateway to the interior of one’s house for all the outside world to enjoy. (Granted, if some stranger is hunting around the front yard for a hide-a-key, ideally it would look suspicious enough that a neighbor might call the police before the miscreant succeeds in gaining access.)
Meanwhile, the lock box doesn’t need to be subtle at all. The three contraptions in the photo above are dangling right at the entry stairs, just feet from the sidewalk where dozens of people walk by each day. But they feature a four-digit code to open, which presumably only the homeowner knows. And only getting the right combination will trigger the spring that opens the door to the lox box, revealing the coveted key. When used properly, they work like a dream; if they didn’t, they wouldn’t be growing in popularity. It’s probably a better solution than seeking some hideaway for an unprotected key, especially in densely populated areas like this part of Washington DC, where the properties are smaller (fewer places to hide things) and the number of unfamiliar eyes on the street so much greater. Since apartment dwellers don’t own the land, they may feel they have no choice but to resort to a lock box.
And, as urban crime rates climb, the shared feeling of security diminishes. Master Lock and its competitors are making a killing on these things. And so, I suspect, are multifamily residential developers that recognize there’s a clear demand for these gadgets.
The little bar embedded in the masonry should speak for itself; it specifically accommodates lock boxes. At least nine of ‘em.
And yes, it’s another multi-family building, this time across the river in Alexandria, Virginia.
It’s a handy little feature in a carefully conceived mega-development called Cameron Station, on the site of an former Army installation of the same name, which operated there from World War II until 1995. Within a few years, a developer purchased the valuable real estate and transformed it into approximately 2,000 townhomes, condominiums, and single-family homes, all unified through neo-traditional architecture complete with parks, schools, and a small commercial node. It’s archetypal New Urbanism—a town within a town. But, considering it’s barely twenty years old, it looks surprisingly mature and organic; less like a theme park and more like a well-established coastal Virginia settlement.
Complete with bars for lock boxes!
Though I see little evidence that Alexandria in general—or Cameron Station in particular—will ever face the crime levels that even the good neighborhoods in Washington DC are currently suffering, it’s obvious that a core demand exists for a lock box. Truth be told, the presence of lock boxes isn’t really a barometer of crime—simply a mild indicator of a more transient population less likely to know who their neighbors are. The DC metro chews ‘em up and spits ‘em out faster than most cities, so it’s hardly uncommon for a person to call the region home for less than two years. Many residents never become homeowners, so they never develop the sense of trust within their milieu to place a “naked” hide-a-key in a discreet place outside…let alone give a neighbor that they trust their spare key. When these transient-minded people and their lock boxes cluster together in large numbers, it’s hard for them not to evoke the notorious “locks of love” that adorn various pedestrian bridges at picturesque points in dozens of world cities. Among the most famous of these—the Post des Arts bridge in Paris—workers had to cut away over 700,000 padlocks after structural engineers determined that their cumulative weight was potentially compromising the historic bridge’s stability.
Once a man-made contrivance abounds within a select place, it nearly always becomes a nuisance—a visual blight. And bored neighbors do indeed voice their ire. So what better way to counter the Karens than to design a specifically dedicated space for lock boxes? I have a feeling the ones here in Cameron Station can get far more cluttered, and people will continue to tolerate it—while a similar quantity of lock boxes along the railing at that apartment in DC would force the property owner to come up with a better solution. Cameron Station has that solution, probably installed within the last few years rather than the date of construction. Here’s to many more quick fixes to a non-problem. Far smarter than shoving things under a doormat.
5 thoughts on “Lock box: the security safeguard in a low-trust era.”
isnt this mostly a tool for airbnbs?
good point. In the first two photos, in a conveniently located part of DC, you’re probably right. The remaining photos, where there’s a huge row of lock boxes in an area not as popular with visitors, it’s probably less common. But you raise the point that lock boxes are definitely a signal or AirBnB or VRBO, which I should have noticed.
They’re also popular among real estate companies for allowing realtors to guide prospective buyers into unoccupied homes that are for sale. Or for institutions like churches that allow affiliate members who are not on the payroll to access the building after hours.
My take on this is that key lock boxes are a “tell” for short term rentals (eg Airbnb) or for units that are for sale. Does Alexandria have a STR problem like downtown Annapolis? See the piece I wrote about it for Strong Towns: https://www.strongtowns.org/journal/2021/6/16/protected-housing-not-lodging Given the tourist popularity of Alexandria and the high property values, that often drives people (and definitely investors) to this use as the best and highest value.
You’re probably right, and that’s most likely the case in the first two photos (in Capitol Hill in DC). As for Alexandria, it’s more neighborhood-dependent. The tourist popularity of Old Town Alexandria is high, not only on its own terms, but the ease of access to DC but less hectic (and safer) place to stay overnight. Also very close to Mount Vernon, which is a huge attraction.
However, the Cameron Station neighborhood referenced here is decidedly not a touristy area–mostly young families. It’s close to a Metro stop, but not close enough for a convenient walk. Apparently the property management provides shuttles. That said, with that row of 10+ lock boxes on a metal bar, it seems unlikely to me that all of them are for short-term rentals. Maybe a few, but just as easily other explanations. It’s supposedly a fairly tight-knit community, so the “hide-a-key” culture may not be that great, if people feel comfortable leaving a spare key with their neighbors. But metro DC is also much more transient, particularly the city itself and the close-in municipalities nearby, so there may still be enough churn in Cameron station that people who want a spare key feel better just putting it in a lock box.
Really interesting article!