Outside the Box 6907

A dozen years ago, when Marty Kosmynka entered the self-storage industry and developed his first project, good fortune meant financial success. Nowadays, his focus is more about overcoming challenges, cherishing family and seeking reward through helping others.

Kosmynkas competitive side and strong lungs lured him to enter and finish the New York City Marathon, but its his big heart that compelled him to swim a mile in Long Island Sound this summer to raise money for cancer research. The project that carries the greatest rewards for him, though, is working with disabled war veterans, whom he teaches that life can still be full of adventure and joy even if one loses physical abilities.

This is a lesson he knows firsthand: Eight years ago, an accident left Kosmynka paralyzed from the waist down, humbling him to the core and setting him against the challenge of a lifetime.

Setbacks

Kosmynkas best friend, Donny Boccafola, first introduced him to self-storage 12 years ago, rather by accident. Donny called me for help one day, he recalls. His Aunt Marges house was hit hard by a noreaster [storm] and was sliding down toward Long Island Sound. We needed to move all her belongings, but Public Storage was full.

Next thing he knew, Kosmynka was scouting for a self-storage site to fill the void. Throughout the next several years, he built and sold properties, and took several purchased parcels through the land-approval process before selling them to self-storage real estate investment trusts for a tidy profit.

While recovering from the accident that left him a paraplegic, a bewildered Kosmynka wondered what to do next. He took a cue from an old self-storage friend, Jamie Lindau, sales manager of Trachte Building Systems. You can build it and run it, Lindau encouraged. It will be a hoot.

With that, Kosmynka zeroed in on a plan for his future. I always wanted to build a self-storage facility in North Fork, he declares. And so he did. And he did it like everything else in his lifewith gusto.

At first, the project met with chagrin by the Cutchogue, N.Y., architectural-review board, which set up roadblocks all along the way. It took four years to appease the six architects on the board, recalls Lindau. It was hugely frustrating. Fortunately, Kosmynkas perseverance paid off, and his facilitys designs received a stamp of approval.

Knowing he would serve affluent second-home owners, Kosmynka aimed to wow them the moment they enter the facility. Manager Jim Brown and other staff members are outfitted with starched white shirts, ties and black vests sporting the North Fork logo. Granite counters grace the office; pitched roofs and copper-topped cupolas accent the exterior; gates and door alarms give a strong sense of security. The message Kosmynka sends is loud and clear. People want to feel safe storing their worldly goods, he says. I give them all the bells and whistles, and make them feel comfortable.

Paybacks

Marty Kosmynka is one of those super high-energy people, says Lindau. You cant help but admire him. He has faced numerous challenges, risen to the top and inspires so many people.

In recognition of his contributions to his community, his zest for facing difficulties head on, and particularly his work with veterans, Kosmynka was the recipient of the 2007 Senator Achievement Award, for which he traveled to the state capitol in Albany for a celebratory presentation made by the state governor and senator. In attendance were friends from North Fork, his wife, Christine, and kids, Luke (7) and Julie (4).

It was great to be there in front of my kids to show them Daddy is OK. My disability is an inconvenience, and thats all, Kosmynka says. He shrugs off compliments swiftly, emphasizing that he is a self-proclaimed maniac, who likes to keep going no matter the odds. Helping is just a gift that motivates him to expand his own horizons and contribute more to others.

Its a simple philosophy and one Kosmynka sums up best: Actions speak louder than words. 

For more information, visit www.northforkselfstorage.com.