Buyer beware at city’s first house auction in years
This house 46 Carling Ave., in the trendy Ossington/Bloor neighbourhood, went for $729,000.
Caveat emptor! And quod est: As is. Three houses went on the market in Toronto on Thursday — a heap ’o shambles, really. Uninhabited for years. Abandoned. Put on sale by the city in public tender because of unpaid taxes.
Each property must have a back story. But damn if civic bureaucrats could get to the bottom of those mysteries. And not for lack of trying.
“Could be for any number of possibilities,” explained Casey Brendan, Toronto’s director of revenue services, which staged the auction. “Maybe the owners left the country. Maybe they’ve died with no next of kin. Maybe they have (mental) capacity issues and have been removed as owners by their families.”
For upward of eight years, the tax sleuths have tried to track down the owners, scouring land titles, interviewing neighbours, endlessly and futilely knock-knock-knocking on doors. While the city is intent on collecting what’s owed, auction is its last, reluctant resort.
But city officials have never ventured inside the houses.
“That would be trespassing,” Brendan said. “Until the moment they’re transferred, they’re still owned by somebody. It’s not like an open house, where you can go in and look around.”
For all Brendan and his staff know, there could be dead bodies in there, even if it’s wildly unlikely. Surely the stench would have been noticed and inspectors summoned; police if necessary. More likely just a dead animal or two. As, in fact, a stiffy raccoon was spotted hanging from the eavestrough over the front door of 56 Netherly Dr., a splitlevel, uh, fixer-upper, out in Etobicoke.
Interested purchasers had to content themselves with scoping the properties from outside. Bidding blind on houses that could require hundreds of thousands of dollars to render them habitable.
Yet such is the city’s overheated housing market that 252 eager supplicants had filled out sealed tender packages by the 3 p.m. deadline, many of them crowding into council chambers at the North York Civic Centre in what turned into possibly the most tedious game show ever. They were aware only of what was owed in taxes and the last returned assessment roll value.
“I had to run to make it in time,” said one prospective buyer, literally gasping, last through the registry door. He’d heard about the auction — it is not really an auction, strictly speaking — only earlier in the day. Had his eye on the Netherly house, located on a quiet tree-shaded residential street.
“I haven’t actually seen any of the houses myself,” said the man, a registered broker. Minimum tender amount for that house was $92,421.39 — what’s owed in tax arrears, plus some minor associated costs racked up by the city over the years. He didn’t get it.
The rather woebegone house, with its boarded-up windows, attracted 80 bids, was assessed at $457,000 and went for $550,000 to a registered company.
But that’s the thing. While there were certainly quite a few private buyers looking to get a foot in on a forever house, or maybe just a starter house, most bidders appeared to be professionals — realtors, mortgage brokers, speculators, flippers — in search of an inand-out investment.
“It’s hard to buy property in Toronto,” said one woman, 30-ish, who also was not keen on giving her name. “This is an opportunity to own, for someone like me. I’ve looked around, but I can’t afford anything that’s on the market. It’s not urgent, more like a first step.”
All three houses, in quite dilapidated condition, had been advertised, as per the rules, in the Ontario Gazette (Sale of Lands for Tax Arrears by Public Tender) and the Toronto Star. The owners had right up until the stroke of deadline to declare themselves and hold on. Which did happen for two of three commercial properties posted on the city website. The third, on Danforth Avenue, drew eight bids and sold for $600,000.
“They’re not worth it,” Cos Licursi said, noting that two of the commercial properties that piqued his interest carried $3.4 million in taxes owing. The Netherly house was a maybe, but he figured bidders would run up the cost to buy way too high.
“And then what do you get? They’re full of rats. The windows are broken. Might have to tear down the whole thing and start over.”
Those serious about coming in hot, Licursi added, would have been wise to talk with neighbours, suss out whether squatters had stayed on the premises.
Buyers, who had to include a minimum deposit of 20 per cent of the tender amount in their proposals, have 14 days to come up with the rest. Which would mean persuading a bank or other financial institution to provide a mortgage.
“Unless you’ve got the cash,” noted mortgage agent John Webber, who was dubious about how the event unfolded. “People who came here today, they better have hard cash on hand. The real question: Do they have that kind of money? Or are they just pushing up the price? Because I don’t see banks putting up a mortgage for the shape these houses are in.”
There was a kerfuffle when the winning bid — first and second highest bids were announced per property — for a two-storey semi on Carling Street, in the trendy Ossington/Bloor neighbourhood, assessed at $775,000 with a minimum tender of $97,055.89. But the winning bid, out of 75, was declared invalid because the prospective buyer had put his bid into the wrong envelope.
“But he gave me the envelope,” Elie Soberano argued, pointing to one of the staff minions. No dice. In any event, his bid, which had been intended for Netherly, was far below the $729,000 put forward by the winner, who never showed herself when her name and the bid was flashed on the screen. (Officials will be contacting the winning bidders over the next few days.)
It’s been eight years since the city last held such a tender auction, so everybody’s a little rusty.
Arguably, the most attractive property, in upscale north High Park, like Carling, a terrific location and sturdier looking, was a house at 58 Laws St., with a minimum tender of $119,587.21, assessed at $932,000. SOLD to one Christor Ceccato for $901,000. But if Ceccato was in the house, or the chamber, he wasn’t revealing himself, at least not to a reporter trolling the audience.
“Here, Christor, come out come out wherever you are, Christor!”
None of my bid-ness apparently.