The unemployed Alfonzo Hill, Budhoo’s tenant, browsed the internet for days to learn about tenant rights, New York’s rent strikes, and the eviction moratorium. In the pandemic economy, the US government had banned all evictions until the end of July 2021 to avoid, or rather postpone, a historic housing crisis. Officially, more than 8 million American rental properties were behind on payments on average by six months. Most were owned not by big companies or banks, but by small landlords like Budhoo.
On TV, Alfonzo Hill watched Governor Cuomo say that
inability to pay rent was the state’s number one issue, and the moratorium had
taken it off the table. In the presidential campaign, Joe Biden said rents
should be forgiven. Not delayed but forgiven. Hill made it a point to vote for
Biden. After listening to the leaders, Hill’s conscience was clear. He spent
the unemployment allowance and the four-figure stimulus checks to fix the
broken engine in his minivan, buy some furniture, pay off the credit card debt,
and gave his daughter a laptop for her virtual lessons. Why pay to Budhoo what
may be forgiven by the new president?
*****
Budhoo dialed a number saved as “Julie eviction” on
his cell phone. Her real name was Julie Horn. She owned a few properties herself,
and specialized in the eviction business. This entailed helping landlords file
court cases, notarize documents, serve eviction paperwork to tenants. Schenectady,
with more than half its population renting, and about 1,000 tenants getting
evicted each year, provided Julie with a decent amount of business. Julie’s
card said “the Hit Lady”. She had met all kinds; tenants crying, begging,
threatening or running away. In the pandemic, though, what she experienced was indifference.
Budhoo had sought her help in the past. Julie’s fees
and eviction expenses were labeled as “routine turnover” in his books.
This year, Julie’s work had become difficult. The
courts still heard eviction cases. But they asked for far more documents. A
tenant who was a veteran couldn’t be evicted under any circumstances. Even if
the court were to pass an eviction order, it couldn’t be served until the
federal moratorium was lifted at the end of July 2021.
*****
Julie talked about the general perception. Budhoo was
the landlord, the acknowledged villain. He was the greedy man trying to throw
people on the streets.
Budhoo was trapped between non-paying tenants and the
government demanding insurance, mortgage payments and property tax. One third
of the American small landlords were about to go bankrupt.
“Have you thought of trading cash for keys?” Julie
asked him. This was a new strategy in Schenectady. The landlord should pay $500
to the tenant; and forgive all overdue rent if the tenant moved out.
“That’s crazy” said Budhoo. He didn’t have money to
give to his tenants. He would rather commit suicide. Seriously, he told Julie.
“Have you thought about selling it?” Julie asked.
Budhoo doubted he would find a buyer willing to take
the house along with its non-paying occupant. If he was lucky in finding a buyer,
it would be to minimize his losses. He had put his entire life in the tenancy
business. The work of twenty years was being erased in a single year.
*****
In the following month, Budhoo attended a meeting of
the distressed landlords. Each of them was a rent creditor for more than
$10,000. Most were immigrants who had saved the city twenty years ago. Now the
city was trying to survive the pandemic by raising the trash fees and property
taxes.
They shared their stories. Some were trading cash for
keys as Julie had suggested. Others were cutting off heat in the houses, trying
to force the tenants out. For fear of not getting rent, vacant properties were
not rented out any more. One person told the story of an Albany landlord who
had broken into his own apartment on a Sunday morning. At gunpoint, he had tied
the tenants, and then dropped them at a cemetery 30 miles from the property.
Budhoo didn’t think that was a real solution.
*****
(The third and final part tomorrow.)
Ravi