Jumping through hoops
later, she learned that the city had contracted with a company to demolish the house within 90 days, “and it was only by pure chance that I learned about it,” she said. “Had I not, I would have purchased vacant land when I thought I was buying a house to fix up.”
When she was denied a promise in writing that the building would not be torn down before her closing, she had to hire an attorney.
Margaret Lanier, the city’s finance director and treasurer, confirmed last week that the city removed the house from the demolition list. She said the city is still quieting the title, and once it does, a deed can be prepared.
Ms. Balcom was one of two people interested in the house in the summer of 2014. She was second in line, so she waited a year to find out that the other person did not produce a title report in time and his offer was forfeited. But nobody notified Ms. Balcom.
It would have been thoughtful had someone let her know. It would have been the right thing to have notified her of the demolition contract, and it would have been considerate to have confirmed that her title documents were received. None of those considerations were extended to her.
Thoughtfulness would go a long way toward making this process feel less like a battle.
Earlier this month, my colleagues Kate Giammarise and Rich Lord reported that more than 2,000 city-controlled properties are listed for sale, with a long line of frustrated people hoping to purchase, some having waited more than two years.
They also reported that city Controller Michael Lamb is auditing the property sale process, and Ms. Lanier told them her department is meeting with the law department to “improve its accuracy and transparency.”
One improvement would be to explain how the system works in clear and comprehensive words that lay people actually understand.
For instance, when Ms. Balcom went to Downtown in a near panic after seeing the demolition notice on the house, she said, “the people in the department of finance and real estate pointed me to language in the agreement stating that the property was sold in “asis” condition, “subject to any and all violations” of building ordinances.
She was somehow supposed to know that meant it could be razed. She had not even gotten a heads-up about a potential demolition and she was already out more than $1,000 — $569 on the title search, $290 in earnest money and more in attorney fees.
One of many setbacks came when Councilwoman Darlene Harris pulled the property from a council vote in October 2017 because Ms. Balcom had not consulted the Spring Hill Civic League first.
Ms. Balcom then met with the civic league, and the league confirmed that in November, Ms. Harris said. In December, the property came to council for a vote.
Ms. Harris said she advises would-be buyers of city-owned properties in her district “that they need to talk to the neighborhood group.” She said a proper vetting is justified to prevent purchase by people with no attachment to the neighborhood and no immediate plans to salvage the properties.
Her point is valid, but Ms. Balcom was more than three years into her odyssey when she learned she had to pass muster with a neighborhood group. Because she was required to provide that courtesy, she had to go back to the city to sign another agreement to buy.
The process takes two years, Ms. Harris said. If it really did, and if you could know that going in, there would be that small measure of certainty. But when a system is this sluggish and inconsiderate, the cost to taxpayers is greater than the preventable demolitions we pay for.