As home ownership became increasingly common in American cities in the nineteenth century, the houselots were most often sold in fee simple—with no restrictions or duties other than those imposed by the legislature. In this way, they differed little from a farm holding. But the wealthy will always seek ways to differentiate themselves, and by the late 19th century building lots aimed at the high end of the market began to use covenants and deed restrictions, adopting age-old practices of English common law to make certain restrictions into covenants that would “run with the land,” put in place as part of the contract between seller and purchaser—and, most importantly, not extinguishable without the permission of all concerned. These typically were restrictive in nature: most commonly that the property could be used only for residential purposes, prohibiting noxious uses and nuisances, saying that only certain types of outbuildings were permitted, sometimes restricting the sale of intoxicating liquors, and (commonly) decreeing that only Caucasians could be residents. The spread of more detailed municipal zoning in the 1920s made the “residential purposes” restrictions less necessary; the 1948 Supreme Court decision in Shelley v. Kraemer made racial restrictive covenants unenforceable.

But it had occurred to some creative subdividers and attorneys that covenants could also impose positive obligations on land purchasers, including the obligation to support common amenities shared by the owners of a particular subdivision. Such situations were uncommon prior to World War II, with the most common instances being beaches in resort areas, shared piers extending into lakes surrounded by vacation cottages, and private parks (similar to Manhattan’s Gramercy Park).

Postwar subdivision in many American suburbs was of an entirely new scale, sometimes entire “planned communities” that would need streets, parks, and amenities such as landscaped entries or swimming pools—often in locales that didn’t yet have a municipality prepared to support such things with property taxes. The solution was for a new type of covenant running with the land: one that obligated every lot purchaser to financially support a homeowners association, and to be bound by the rules it might adopt. In the 1950s and 1960s, municipalities and suburban counties seeing such growth used their subdivision ordinances to ensure that an association was properly set up and in place to maintain common landscaping, private roads, and other amenities—lest they become a burden on the local governments. Some developers promoted association control as a selling point even beyond the amenity support, as a way to help ensure that your neighbors kept up their property (and thus your property values).

The 1960s invention of and spread of condominiums in the US, of course, required homeowners associations as a means to administer and maintain the common elements, including the exterior of the building, any landscaping and amenities, and the pipes, elevators, and interior hallways. Predecessor cooperative apartments, widespread in New York City and Washington before the invention of condominiums, use a slightly different scheme in which each resident is a shareholder of a corporation that maintains the building.

In principle, we should note that a homeowners association is very little different from a small municipality, which could impose almost all the same restrictions (as ordinances) and financial obligations (as taxes). Though municipalities are subject to constitutional restrictions on what they can do, they can restrict paint colors and unsightly lawns and parking of trucks same as an HOA can. And “universally disliked” might be a bit strong. The Community Associations Institute reports resident approval ratings that—though not perfect—would be the envy of any US president.