In August 2003, I bought a distressed home in Southeast Greensboro. The owner knew that I was a young ambitious landlord who might be interested in buying his house, but I must admit that I was a little intimidated. The home was a crack house. The electricity was off, so his tenant kept the house warm with a kerosene heater. Soot covered the ceiling and walls and the carpet had a pungent foul odor of musk and urine. The bedrooms had holes in the walls and the closet doors were missing. The bathroom was filthy, and the kitchen was the last place on earth you’d want to eat a meal. Outside, the front lawn was covered with dense trees and shrubs used by the vagrants to hide from the neighbors and law enforcement. The vegetation was so thick, the house wasn’t visible from the street. It happens when homeowners are no longer capable of managing a property, or the people living in it.
But the home had “Good Bones!” It sat on a slab foundation and had a brick exterior. The roof was intact, and the floor plan was functional. This home simply needed a visionary with a plan, and the necessary capital to complete it.
This home is a microcosm of Urban America when neglected by local officials in city government. Communities fall into ruin, and when finally addressed, a feeble attempt is made to fix the problem which usually leads to patchwork and a lot of finger pointing. But the onus also falls in the laps of the community. It’s the responsibility of the community, not the government to ensure that our neighborhoods are safe and well-maintained.
Recently, there’s been a lot of discussion about gentrification. It’s happening in every major city throughout the country. It’s a story of when the “Haves” invade the “Have Nots.” But what I find interesting is before the invasion occurs, the Have Nots blame society for the condition of the community. They talk about “Red Line Districts,” as if the land has been cursed and laced with poison. They talk about poor schools and weak infrastructures. They talk about inadequate health care, and food deserts. But when gentrification occurs, all of these excuses are obsolete. There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with the land, or the infrastructure. Red Line Districts exist, but if the lines of inequality can be drawn, they can also be erased with a good plan and strategy. Our communities have good bones, but we take it for granted until the “Haves” come in and turns our trash into treasure.
Thirty days after I purchased that old dilapidated home on Erwin Street, I transformed the eye sore into a neighborhood gem. The trees were removed, which allowed motorist to see the progress. The neighbors were excited. In fact, a few of them began updating their homes by adding new windows and doors as well. But a funny thing occurred. I stepped into a local bank on Elm-Eugene to discuss obtaining a loan to buy another house and the branch manager recognized the address on my loan application. Apparently, the previous owner of the house on Erwin Street accused the branch manager of helping me to steal his home. STEAL! That’s an interesting choice of words because the OWNER approached ME about buying it. Every day while I was renovating the home, he drove by in his new 2003 Chevy Impala. Twenty years later, the value of the house has doubled, while that new Impala isn’t worth the tires it sat on. I guess you can call it buyer’s remorse. I call it a bad decision. Nothing was wrong with the home or its location. It was a solid house with “Good Bones.” It simply needed a visionary with a plan, and the necessary capital to complete it.
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