Today’s segment was all about the epidemic of empty row houses. They had film of lines and lines of for sale, foreclosed, and empty row houses. She had data on how row houses had taken the biggest dive in value of all the local properties, in most cases losing more than $100,000 in value. She was paving the way for her future argument to the city council, that the whole Row House scene was overdone and that condemning homes that were not for sale but were being lived in to replace them with homes that were a dime a dozen and not moving at all on the market place right now was a foolhardy move.
She made her closing comments, laughed with Alma and Bob, the hosts, and headed for the green room.
“Great segment, yet again.” Sidney, one of the production assistants said. “I’d love a row house. Are they really a great buy right now?”
Mitzy smiled, “I never said they were a great buy. Don’t confuse available and a great buy. There are dozens, if not a hundred or more for sale, but the appraiser has devalued them well below what the banks will ever accept for them. You’d have to meet the perfect storm of circumstances to actually get one for a steal.”
“But I bet you could get me one,” Sidney said hopefully.
“I’m your best bet, sure,” Mitzy said. “But only if you have good credit and money to put down.”
“Maybe next year then,” Sidney said with a laugh.
“Only if you can clean up your credit and save some money by next year,” Mitzy cautioned.
“I do like my apartment,” Sidney said. “So, you really have to have money down now?”
“Yes. You really do. Do your best to save. I can recommend a financial advisor if you want.” Mitzy sat down with a donut. She liked Sidney. Sidney was young and hardworking. She was going to go places in her business. She could do well with her financial life too, if she was careful.
“Maybe some other time, Mitzy. See you next week?” Sidney said.
“Sure. See you next week.”
Bob, the co-host joined her in the green room. The show was over for the day. “What’s on your mind, Mitzy?”
“What should be on my mind?” Mitzy asked.
“Why the row houses show? I thought you were going to do something on the local apple harvest today.”
“Oh that. Just a little change.”
“Come on. Tell me. Who wants to build more row houses?” Bob asked.
“Doing a little investigative reporting, Bob?” Mitzy teased.
“You don’t do things randomly. I’m just curious. I like to put my money into new projects. What if I was one of the investors for the new buildings, would you tell me then?”
“Yes. I would. I would tell you to stay away from row houses right now. I’d suggest if you are looking for an investment to keep it cool, buy some foreclosures and run rental properties. The more people get their credit trashed by foreclosure, the more renters there are. You aren’t really thinking of investing in a new development right now are you?”
“Well…I may have been,” Bob hedged.
“Have I talked you out of it?” Mitzy asked.
“You might have,” he said. “What if the row houses were part of a bigger scheme, and near say…a new business in town, a high end business, something that would improve the property values on the street?”
“Business and residential don’t mix. Or, if they do, they don’t increase property values.”
“What if the business was…” he looked at her through narrowed eyes, “What if it was a hospitality kind of industry?” he finished.
“I say stay away from Row Houses right now.” She stood up, tossed her napkin in the garbage and left. She had gotten uncomfortably close to offering investment advice, which she was not licensed to do. But there was a hope in the back of her mind that maybe, “hospitality” meant inn and a bigger scheme meant a new tram. She wouldn’t be disappointed at all if the project lost its private investors.
There were five messages from City Councilman Geo Wright when she got back to the office. Apparently he had seen her segment. She couldn’t remember having met a Geo, but she took herself to her private office to return his calls.
“Geo?” She said when he answered, “This is Mitzy Neuhaus.”
Geo had a high, whiny voice with a bit of a southern twang. “I have a problem, Mitzy.”
“Is it something I can help you with?” she asked, assuming an air of innocence.
“It might be too late, actually. But I want to confirm the statements you made this morning.”
“Everything I said is on film, Geo. You won’t see me denying any of it,” Mitzy said, keeping her cool. “Do you have a problem with something I said on television this morning?”
“I saw you this morning and shortly after I saw your segment against row houses the city hall had an interesting call from one of our investors.” Geo cleared his throat and rustled some papers, “He wants to back out and plans on taking his friends with him. I think that he didn’t decide to do that from what he heard you say on television. I’d like to know what you said off camera.”
Mitzy remained silent.
“I believe you had a conversation with my investor and that you advised him to back out. Is this true?”
“My feelings on the subject of investing in row homes are not a secret. At any point in time I might be heard talking about the current state of the housing market—what the city needs more of and what it does not need more of,” Mitzy said choosing each word with care.
“So you refuse to deny that you gave my investor investment advice?” Geo said, his voice quivering with excitement.
“I do not give investment advice, Geo. Only home buying advice. Anyone who asks me can know that I think buying a row home would be difficult right now. The homes are fantastic if you can get them out of the hands of the bank. But despite how stylish they are and how much I personally like them, they are everywhere and mostly empty. I had that conversation with at least two people this morning, not including the whole audience that watched the television show.”
“I think that you know what I will be saying next.”
“I really couldn’t guess, Geo. Why don’t you just tell me,” Mitzy said.
“You’ll be hearing from our lawyers, that’s what,” Geo said.
Mitzy took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to hear that Geo. I don’t think that that will help anybody get any work done.”
Later that same afternoon, Mitzy had the meeting of allied forces. She sat with Ramona from the Historical Society, Danae from the Johnson Creek Watershed Restoration Committee, Nina the new director for the HuddingtonCommunity Center and Mitchell, an ecologist and local expert for the Portland Grey to Green Commission. They were meeting on site, in the future space of the Historical Society.
After the introductions, Mitzy began. “This sign was at the edge of our driveway a week ago. It was hard to see and insufficient notice for the neighbors of the huge plans that the city has for Baltimore. Mitchell, you work with the city quite a bit. Have you heard of the plans for Baltimore?”
He shook his head, “The Johnson Creek project is finally taking off so I haven’t had eyes or ears for anything else.”
“Then let me tell you all about it. I think each of you has an interest in what is about to happen here.” Mitzy elaborated on the plans the City had made, and spent extra time to describe the parking structure planned for the future inn. “Danae, Mitchell,” Mitzy finished, “This space with its forestland is a part of the Johnson Creek Watershed. The intention of the city is to eliminate the forest and pave it.”
Nina from the HuddingtonCommunity Center was the first to respond. “I can see why you are interested and even disappointed, Mitzy,” she said with a slow pause at the end. “But it sounds like a good plan. It might mean a sacrifice of a small part of green space, but if all of those cars are parked, it would be better for the watershed in the long run.”
“If the traffic patterns backed you up, I’d agree,” Mitzy began, but was interr
upted by Nina.
“I’m sure they had a traffic expert working on the planning committee. The city council has the best interest of the city at hand. The East side is quite underserved by mass transit.”
“We are. I agree. But I don’t agree that we have to sacrifice green space to get it done.”
“I don’t like the idea of eliminating this green space from the watershed.” Danae said. “Beggars Tic and the creek beds can’t take any more run off. We think we finally have a handle on the flooding at HolgateLake and now they want to pave another forest? I wish this committee had consulted ours. It can be so hard for volunteer organizations like ours to get our voices heard,” She finished on a wistful note.
“Eliminating one backyard will not put all of Southeast Portland underwater,” Nina said as she doodled on her notepad. “Think of the air quality improvement and the increased mobility for families living under the poverty line.”
“Did you even look at the map Mitzy drew?” Danae said, whacking at the map with her own notepad.
Mitchell spoke again with a calmer tone, “It isn’t just the elimination of one backyard, Nina. This property has several acres of habitat. At least a half of an acre of it is forest. In addition to paving that, they plan to pave over a significant portion of each backyard on the south side of the street as well as eliminating the yards of the North side all together.”
“I did look at the maps, Mitchell,” Nina said, “And I listened to everything that was said. They will be requiring the installation of lawn driveways for homes on the south side of the street.”
“Even so we are eliminating not only habitat but tons of direct soil access for the water,” Mitchell said.
“Then help them design a proper drainage system. There is plenty of green space planned in the design. Make sure it works well and we can all be happy,” Nina said.
Mitzy pulled out Alonzo’s tentative plans for the HuddingtonCommunity Center tramline and put them on the table. When things had quieted down a bit she spoke again, “Nina, you mentioned serving the families who are living below the poverty level. I agree that is an important issue for our city. How would they be served by this tram line? It won’t take them to the services they need or the jobs they hold. The intended purpose is to connect the East side shopping districts with the downtown businesses. In my opinion it is a tram line that will benefit the well-off.”
“The underemployed do work in our shopping district. They would benefit from increased traffic,” Nina protested. “And they can get to work on the tram.”
“But what if the tram could get them to the rest of those same jobs, get customers to their stores and get their kids to the Boys and Girls Club, or the library, or the Community Center where they take their ESL classes, their Back to Work classes, and all of the other services offered there?” Mitzy said.
“Well, obviously, I think a tram line that connected people to their community center would be a benefit. And maybe someday this one will,” Nina said.
Ramona from the Historical Society that was planning the museum space in the inn spoke for the first time, “What community center, if I may ask you Nina, would a line on this street eventually connect to? Wouldn’t it be better to start the line from the community center, with a park-and-ride on site and then take it everywhere else it needs to go? I don’t see the point of disrupting so many homes and other good plans for something that would be better elsewhere.”
Mitzy was relieved to hear Ramona speak up.
Mitchell examined Alonzo’s drawings. “It looks like a tram and a park and ride here would mean tearing up an important thoroughfare, but there is room for it. It is a big street. The parking garage would replace an empty strip mall. It seems obvious to me that this is a much better way to go. Unless they want the flooding to continue year in and year out, making the city condemn homes in a wider and wider circumference just to keep people living in safe conditions.” Mitchell stood up from the plans again. “Nina you do good work, I’m sure. But you can’t imagine the damage and health problems that black mold is having on so many people in the Johnson Creek Drainage Basin. On one level preserving our green spaces in the flood plane is a matter of public safety.”
“The city should go ahead with this plan and connect it to our center at a later date,” Nina said.
“How?” Ramona asked. She traced the map with her pointer finger, from Baltimore to Huddington. “That would be a tremendously disruptive tram line. There is no need to do that. A straight shot from here,” she traced a different line now, “to here, would connect The Hud with the existing light rail. Do you just want cars off of the street or do you want to serve the best interest of the community? I think we need to back Mitzy and Alonzo. Their plan is better than the city’s. I am not disinterested. I can support them in offering this plan, but it would be so much better if all of us could back them up.”
“Well I’m not disinterested either,” Nina said. “How would it look if I went begging for a tram line to come to my brand new community center?”
“You would be seen as a professional expert on the matter,” Danae said. “You have my wholehearted support, but like I said earlier, the Johnson Creek watershed team is a bunch of volunteers. We finally got the Grey to Green Commission to notice us, thank you Mitchell. But you can’t imagine how long it took to get our voice heard. We are just not important enough to the city.”
“I’d really like to have you on our side, Nina. But if you just can’t, I understand. Alonzo can represent the HuddingtonCenter’s interests.”
Nina looked up from Alonzo’s plans. “If Alonzo wants to represent the center, I won’t be a voice against him. This is a very good plan. But if they say no to it, I will continue to support the Baltimore tramline.”
It was something, and Mitzy took it with a grateful smile aimed at Nina. They spent the last few minutes of their meeting talking about how to best represent themselves to the city and how to bring along their co-workers. When it was over, Mitzy was hopeful.
Mitzy went straight from her meeting of allied forces to the inn to do a little more dirty work. The painting upstairs could get finished up today if she wasn’t interrupted again.
Carmella was twirling a long strand of her glossy black hair around her finger. “I can’t believe we are too busy for our anniversary this year,” she said.
“What anniversary is it?” Mitzy asked, as she washed her paintbrush out.
“Thirteen. Maybe it’s a bad luck year.”
“Sure. Why not,” Mitzy said.
“It could be. The actual anniversary is on a Saturday this year but Diego will be here working and I’ll be here working and we’ll be lucky if we even see each other. And then we’ll go back to your rental next door and argue over dinner and fight with Diego Jr. over his homework and fall into bed. I’ll be lucky if I even get lucky this year. That’s why 13 is my unlucky anniversary.”
Mitzy laughed as she spotted Alonzo standing in the doorway. He was blushing.
“It’s not funny,” Carmella said. “It’s pathetic.”
“Yes,” Mitzy said, holding her breath to help herself stop laughing. “It’s tragic.”
“Don’t listen to Mitzy,” Alonzo said from the doorway. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“And you do?” Mitzy asked.
“Sure.” Alonzo said.
“Of course, because you are married and can feel her pain?” Mitzy said.
“I can see her pain anyway. That’s all. I just get it. You just don’t get marriage.” Alonzo said with a shrug.
Mitzy dropped her brush in the bucket and turned to face Alonzo. “I don’t ‘get’ marriage? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Back away from it Alonzo. You don’t know what you are saying” Carmella cautioned.
“You don’t get it, babe. You’re a career girl. You’re not ready to settle down yet.” Alonzo said, checking his watch.
“I’m not?”
Alon
zo laughed. “You don’t see it? You’re still growing your business. It takes some maturity, some willingness to compromise and let go of your own goals to be married.”
“Al, seriously, you’ve got to stop.” Carmella said, her black eyes huge as she watched her brother bury himself.
Mitzy turned back to the rinse bucket so she could blink the tears out of her eyes.
“It’s all right though,” Alonzo said with a complacent smile. “I love you just the way you are. See you at five thirty at Annie’s Diner, alright?” He didn’t wait for her reply, but walked through the utility room and back into the kitchen.
“He didn’t mean it,” Carmella said in a quiet voice, not wanting to look at Mitzy.
Mitzy didn’t say anything. She left the utility room the opposite direction of Alonzo, picked up her purse and her coat and left.
At first, as she drove home, she wanted to stand him up at the restaurant. Then she wanted to turn around, go back to the inn and yell at him, explaining to him that she was 31 years old and more than mature enough to be married and that only a Neanderthal would think that a woman couldn’t have a husband and a successful business. She pulled out her phone to call her mom. It rang but no one answered. She pulled into her garage and took a deep breath. She might still stand him up.
In the comfort of her own condo, Mitzy had begun to pout. She put her cup of coffee down on the nearest book. She drummed her fingers on her chin. She stood up and paced. Then she sat down again. She picked up her coffee and took a drink. It was hot and bitter. She held it away from her and looked down at the table. The book her coffee had been sitting on was that book. That stupid Spoons book. The book wasn’t thick enough to hurt Alonzo if she threw it at him.
Who was he to say that she wasn’t ready for marriage? That she was obsessed with money? That she was shallow? She put the book down. He said all of that and still thought she’d want to eat with him tonight. She wandered to the kitchen and put her cup in the sink.
Traci Tyne Hilton - Mitzi Neuhaus 02 - Eminent Domain Page 12