An apartment-building manager in Lakewood texted: “Plaster just fell. Nobody died.”

I’m a landlord. The building -- on Detroit Avenue -- is 100 years old. I called the tenant and apologized.

In old buildings, plaster -- a limestone-and-sandstone paste -- is squished between wood lath and joists, and can lose its key over time. “Losing key” means plaster cracks, crumbles and goes plop. Old plaster is often compromised by water leaks, decades of vibrations from Detroit Avenue, and plain old gravity. Things sag, as you’ve no doubt noticed if you’re over 50.

Heads up: Should I replace every bedroom ceiling with modern drywall? Should I pass out helmets to all the tenants?

I like old buildings. Not everybody does. I live in a 99-year-old house in Cleveland Heights. A lot of people prefer ne

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