In the late-80’s my woman and I moved into a nice building one block off Ventura Blvd. in Sherman Oaks (the street upon which one could indeed see vampires---Goth high school kids---walking west, as reported by Tom Petty in "Free Falling"). The apartment had a nice big living room and a cement foundation, so I was expecting to be able to achieve good sound.
I got everything set up (VPI HW-19/Rega RB300 rewired with Cardas by Brooks Berdan, and a Decca Super Gold pickup, Van Alstine-modified Dynaco PAS2, Bedini 25/25 power amp, QUAD ESL’s with KEF B139 woofers in transmission-line enclosures), and late one morning put on the first LP. The first song had not ended before the phone rang. It was the apartment building owner, informing me that he had received a complaint from the old woman who lived in an apartment in the other "wing" of the property (one of those horse-shaped buildings common in the 1940’s and 50’s). My apartment and hers were not attached in any way except through the ground. And by-the-way, she permanently installed a pair of men’s work boots right beside her front door, to scare away would-be burglars. Koo-koo.
I already knew there was gonna be trouble because on the first night in the initial apartment we took in the building (directly above hers), when we turned on the TV the first night she banged on her ceiling. The TV was not turned up loud. Luckily another apartment became available immediately, and we got away from the old bag. Apparently not far enough.
That phone call was the first, but far from the last. In fact, each and every time I played music she called the owner. There was no choice, we had to move. We got lucky and found a 2-bedroom house in Burbank, and the rent was the same as the apartment. We lived there for ten years, with not a single increase in rent. 800 bucks; them were the days. 😊