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Court Conduct

* This story was originally published by MLK50: Justice Through Journalism. Subscribe to their newsletter here.

When tenants on the verge of eviction show up at Shelby County General Sessions Court, most don’t know what their hearing will be like or what they’re supposed to say. And many haven’t heard that millions of federal dollars have been set aside to help people in their situation.

All six General Sessions Civil Court judges — who were all up for re-election this year — know about the Emergency Rental Assistance (ERA) funds, but only three brought it up during court, MLK50: Justice Through Journalism journalists found.

To report this story, MLK50 journalists sat through hearings in front of all six judges over the course of three weeks, observing at least 10 eviction cases in which the tenant came to court in each courtroom.

Judges Lynn Cobb, Lonnie Thompson, and Phyllis Gardner didn’t refer any tenants to the local ERA program. Cobb said these referrals aren’t necessary, Thompson questioned whether doing so would unfairly favor tenants, and Gardner said she frequently tells people about the funds, but it depends on the tenant.

Experts acknowledged the value of objectivity but said the scales are currently tipped toward landlords.

“[Some judges] think impartiality means getting through the process as dictated by statute,” said Jesse McCoy, a Duke University School of Law professor who spends much of his time on evictions. “The problem is the statutes themselves are designed by people who are mostly landlords. … The system is not really designed for neutrality.”

When tenants arrive at court, they go to whichever of the six courtrooms they’ve been randomly assigned. Their judge might explain all the proceedings and connect them with the federal funding. Or, their judge may tell them little about anything.

Based on the luck of the draw, tenants may leave just as confused as they came, with 10 days to vacate their home.

Foot traffic past the office for help with Emergency Rental Assistance funds is seen from a stairwell at the Shelby County Courthouse.

What do these judges do?

The General Sessions judges handle tens of thousands of eviction filings every year.

Each one carries the potential to drive someone further into poverty by pushing them toward worse housing, ruining their credit, and cutting them off from the community they depend upon.

“[People experiencing poverty] rely on neighbors for childcare and rely on neighbors for transportation,” McCoy said. “They were very selective in where they signed a lease.”

Need rental assistance?

Shelby County accepts new applications for Emergency Rental Assistance during the first two weeks of the month, except from people who are imminently facing eviction. Check the MLK50 website to find more information about applying, or call 211. And, because evictions are frequently caused by job loss, McCoy said evictions often force people to search for housing and jobs simultaneously.

Despite this large responsibility falling on General Sessions judges, their elections received little public scrutiny, whether measured in media attention or the size of yard signs. More than 150 races were on Shelby County’s August 4th ballot, and some judges admitted that most voters will choose whether or not to reelect them based on little information.

“Maybe one in 5,000 [Shelby County residents] knows what we do,” Judge Danielle Mitchell Sims said.

In broad terms, the judges — who each receive a salary of more than $183,000 — handle non-criminal cases that involve less than $25,000. Evictions and bill collection make up a large portion of their caseload, but they have a few other responsibilities, including emergency mental health commitments.

With eviction specifically, most of the judges spoke about being constrained by state law, which is widely considered landlord-friendly in comparison to other states.

Judge Deborah Henderson agreed with this characterization.

“Apparently, the landlords have a very strong lobbyist group,” she said. “They have done well for the landlords in getting laws passed that are beneficial to landlords. It doesn’t give us a lot of wiggle room.”

Judge Betty Thomas Moore said the state needs new legislation, especially given the rise of out-of-town investors who show no care for their tenants and don’t maintain their properties. In the meantime, though, she says she will continue to apply the law as written but also show kindness to tenants whenever possible — including encouraging landlords to give tenants extra days to move, as MLK50 observed.

A view of the Shelby County Courthouse in Downtown Memphis.

Which judges help tenants get help?

Emergency Rental Assistance can provide a whole lot of cash.

For tenants who qualify, the program will cover up to 12 months of past-due rent and two months of future rent. If landlords are willing to accept the funds, the program sends them a check and the tenant remains in their home. If not, the program gives the money directly to tenants, to help them find their next rental. In Shelby County, the program has covered rent more than 20,000 times, to the tune of more than $56 million since launching in March 2021.

Many of these tenants ended up in the program after judges advised they stop by an office at the courthouse where its representatives sit.

Thomas Moore and Mitchell Sims referred every tenant MLK50 journalists observed them interact with, and Henderson referred some as well. Judges Thompson, Gardner, and Cobb did not. Those who introduced tenants to the program all told MLK50 they didn’t see any reason not to provide such a helpful resource.

“Because I know what [the program] can do for our community, I make sure to refer to it all the time, every time,” Thomas Moore said. “[The other judges] have been getting information about the program. They know about the program. … Why they aren’t [all referring], I really can’t answer.”

Henderson said she tries to consistently refer to the program unless it’s a tenant’s second time at court, in which case she assumes they were advised about the program on their first trip.

Gardner said she only refers tenants who she thinks would be a good fit for the assistance. Though she didn’t bring up the program while MLK50 observed, she spoke highly of the program and its lawyers. And she was quick to let a tenant reverse her consent to an eviction when informed her application to the program was pending. Gardner, who was the only of the six judges running unopposed, says she tries to avoid being too much of a “proponent” for the program, given the need for impartiality.

Thompson worries about the ethics of a judge “aggressively pushing” for the rental assistance. He said he has brought it up to tenants in the past but wants to make sure he doesn’t “legislate from the bench.”

“That’s not to say we’re not going to be helpful,” Thompson said. “[But] the judge is not a social worker.”

Cobb said he simply doesn’t see the need for judges to inform tenants of the program.

“[Tenants] know the [ERA] program is available,” Cobb said. “[Also,] there’s a whole office over [around the corner].”

Cobb didn’t say how he knows tenants are aware of the program, and he declined to answer more than a few questions.

Flyers for the program are posted outside all of the courtrooms except Henderson’s. But, the chair of the Memphis Bar Association’s Access to Justice Committee, Danielle Woods, said most tenants don’t know about rental assistance, which isn’t surprising since it’s less than two years old. Many tenants also don’t know they can seek help from Memphis Area Legal Services despite it being around for decades, she said.

When asked if there are any judges that handle eviction cases especially well, Woods praised Henderson and Thomas Moore.

“Henderson usually does a fantastic job of making sure people understand what’s going on and then asking about the ERA program. It may not be every single time, but it is an overwhelming amount of the time,” Woods said. “Same with Betty Thomas Moore — she’s very good about trying to explain as much as she can from the bench. … She is probably going above and beyond.”

A view of the Shelby County Courthouse in Downtown Memphis.

How do they make court less scary?

In a recent case before Thomas Moore, a Bartlett apartment complex was evicting a 20-year resident who was hard of hearing. Instead of asking the elderly man to come closer, Thomas Moore stood up and climbed over the low wall separating her perch from the empty witness stand. She then walked over to the man and smiled. The last time he was here she had suggested he apply for Emergency Rental Assistance and had delayed his case so he could do so. Now, he told her he didn’t know the status of his application.

So, Thomas Moore summoned a program representative from the office down the hall. His application had been approved, the representative said, but the landlord rejected the payment, which the landlord’s lawyer in the courtroom confirmed.

Thomas Moore explained to the man that he would still have to move from the property and that his landlord was still going to seek back payment but that he would soon be receiving an Emergency Rental Assistance check. He didn’t seem to fully grasp what she had said, so she explained it again in a slightly different way. And then a third time, asking each time if he had any questions. At the end of the hearing, an eviction judgment was granted against him, but he and his son-in-law expressed gratitude for her help and patience.

The whole interaction occurred in stark contrast to proceedings MLK50 watched in the courtroom next door, run by Thompson. Thompson worked through his cases quickly and didn’t take much time for explanations or tenants’ questions. Once, when a tenant asked what his ruling meant, he simply repeated that she could talk to her landlord’s representatives if she had any questions. When another tenant tried to talk after he had granted an eviction judgment, he cut her off with a simple “That’s all.”

He told MLK50 that he usually does answer tenants’ questions, but he also tries to be efficient with everyone’s time. Despite large caseloads, he said he makes sure not to run his courtroom “like a factory.”

Cobb moves just as quickly as Thompson, which he said is intentional; he wants to get tenants and lawyers back to their workplaces quickly. But compared to Thompson, Cobb’s cadence and demeanor were much more relaxed — using folksy mannerisms and telling jokes in his deep Southern drawl — other than when he yelled at a woman who didn’t remove her mask when addressing him after he had instructed all tenants to do so.

“I hope I’m making a difference helping people realize the law is not intimidating,” he said.

Gardner — who spends more time on each case, though not as much as Thomas Moore — agrees that calming tenants is an important part of the job. She uses small talk, compliments, and jokes to accomplish this.

“Everybody is scared when they come to court. They think they’re going to jail,” Gardner said. “The worst thing a judge can do is use her authority to browbeat people who are already terrified.”

Henderson and Thompson didn’t necessarily “browbeat” tenants but kept small talk to a minimum and chastised tenants for things such as wearing ripped jeans or not standing up when their name was called.

Thomas Moore cautioned against drawing too many conclusions from other judges’ curt responses, saying they need to keep control of their courtrooms and are entitled to bad days. She, though, was slower to rebuke tenants, even when they spoke out of turn, MLK50 observed.

She said this extra compassion toward struggling tenants is likely because she used to be closer to their situation than to her current one — back when she was raising four kids on her own.

“But for the grace of God … I could still be in that position [the tenants are in],” she said. “God has blessed me to be in a better position. And so my job is to do the best that I can for the people that come through.”

A bench outside of a General Sessions Civil Division courtroom shows wear from visitors waiting.

Which judges explain what’s happening?

Eviction cases often hinge around a single moment, when judges ask the tenants whether they agree or disagree they owe their landlord money.

If tenants answer “agree,” the judge grants the eviction, since Tennessee law allows for evictions whenever a tenant owes money, except in some rare circumstances. If they disagree, their case will be set for trial — with the tenants likely representing themselves — either later that day or within a couple of weeks.

However, most of the judges fail to explain the question and its implications to tenants. And after court, many tenants told MLK50 they didn’t understand what had happened.

After a case is called and the landlord’s lawyer has read the amount owed, Thompson, Henderson, Gardner, and Mitchell Sims simply ask the tenant, “Do you agree or disagree?” Cobb’s wording makes it clearer that the tenant is confirming they owe the landlord money but not that their landlord will be given the right to evict if they agree.

Mitchell Sims, who was appointed by the Shelby County Board of Commissioners in 2021, said she adopted the “agree or disagree” question from other judges but would like to eventually come up with a better one because tenants get confused.

Thompson said that while the question’s implications may not be apparent, the question itself isn’t difficult to comprehend. And if tenants confirm that they owe money, it’s up to the landlord — not him — whether or not tenants should be given extra time to work something out.

After they agree they owe money or lose their trial, tenants have 10 days to vacate their homes unless they cut a deal with their landlord. This, though, was only consistently explained to tenants by half of the judges: Thomas Moore, Henderson, and Gardner. And tenants coming out of the other courtrooms told MLK50 they didn’t understand they only had a week and a half to find their next home.

After he hears “agree,” Cobb would say, “You can talk to the resident manager about working out payments.” Then he would move on to the next case.

Thompson and Mitchell Sims usually didn’t tell tenants how long they had to leave their homes. After MLK50 brought this to Mitchell Sims’ attention, she said she’ll work harder to be consistently clear with tenants.

Being clear with tenants is the best way to be helpful while remaining impartial, said Vanessa Bullock, housing managing attorney for West Tennessee Legal Services.

“[Judges] don’t realize that some of the speeches they’re making don’t make sense to the lay people they’re talking to,” Bullock said.

Jargon is one of multiple ways judges can unintentionally favor landlords — who are almost always represented by attorneys — over tenants. She said these disparities may not be apparent to the judges themselves but certainly are to most casual observers.

“If you think things are fair and just in this world, go sit in the General Sessions courtroom and watch what happens to the really poor people,” Bullock said. “Everybody deserves to at least know what’s going on and not be sitting in a room going, ‘I don’t know what’s happening.’”

Every Shelby County General Sessions Court judge retained their seat in the August 4th election.

MLK50 journalists Andrea Morales, Wendi C. Thomas, and Brittany Brown contributed to this article.

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Dream Denied: Corporations Buying Up Memphis Homes, Destabilizing Neighborhoods

More and more Memphians are missing out on the American Dream, especially if you consider homeownership a centerpiece of that dream. Wall Street corporations are sucking up homes in struggling neighborhoods, spitting them back out as rentals, and — in doing so — sucking out wealth and access to upward mobility, particularly in African-American communities.

Some experts on this crisis call these corporations “vultures,” saying they use tactics comparable to the mafia. Across the country, they’re scooping up houses in low-income neighborhoods — sometimes by the hundreds — wringing what profits they can from them, leaving the empty shells, and moving on. The experts call this a “pump and dump” strategy. These companies sometimes use evictions as a way to get back rent, as well as levying fines and fees on tenants, a strategy designed to push profits even higher.

It’s a national problem, but Memphis is the poster child for it. Last year, 65 percent of Memphis’ single-family homes were rented, not owned. The figure was enough for Zillow, the real estate website, to list Memphis as the country’s fastest-growing rental market in 2018.

That rental rate is a massive statistic, given that more than three-quarters of the city’s housing stock is comprised of single-family homes. Investor groups and large corporations own 95,604 of those properties; more than 40 percent of those owners are from outside of Tennessee. It’s probably fair to say they don’t have the city’s — or their own tenants’ — best interests at heart.

“All these guys want to do is to maximize the short-term gain,” says Austin Harrison, a researcher from Georgia State University and a housing consultant, during a recent event in Memphis. “They don’t inspect the properties. You’ll hear stories about mold, or the plumbing or the electricity not working. They don’t fix anything.”

Those who’ve studied the issue say the problem runs deeper than real estate. It gets down to poverty, often cited as the city’s greatest scourge. How can we beat poverty here, experts ask, if African Americans can’t build wealth through homeownership in a majority-African-American city?

“As if the Great Recession’s foreclosure crisis of 2007-2008 was not bad enough, more than a decade later, instead of a phoenix rising from the wake of the burst housing bubble, the vultures have descended upon the housing market in Memphis,” reads a policy paper released recently from the University of Memphis’ Benjamin L. Hooks Institute for Change. “The result is a policy crisis and the exacerbation of the wealth and racial division in the city.”

Photographs by Justin Fox Burks

Robert Holden, who is currently experiencing homelessness, very generously allowed himself to be photographed as he looked through a “picker pile” — the de facto symbol of Memphis’ eviction crisis.

Frayser: “Prime Feeding Ground”

Steve Lockwood sees outside corporate involvement in Frayser housing every day. He’s the director of the Frayser Community Development Corporation (FCDC), and as he drives in his silver pickup around the community of about 45,000, it seems he knows just about every house.

He thinks outside investment in neighborhoods like Frayser is, simply put, “bad.” Local brokers and developers sell the community’s homes to big firms all over the world, from California to New Zealand, he says. But at least two real estate players in Frayser do good work, Lockwood says, and are “good actors.” So he tries to work with them.

“Our objective all along has been to work on market forces, rather than pretend we could do it all ourselves because we can’t, and we know that,” he says.

One of them, a local broker, buys up homes, cleans them up, and does “perfectly good work,” Lockwood says. He paints his renovated houses in a signature red, gray, or green. Lockwood says even if the developer’s houses result in more renters, rather than creating new homeowners, the homes at least help revitalize the rest of the neighborhood.

On a recent tour of Frayser, Lockwood points to four concrete slabs, PVC tubing still stuck out of the ground where plumbing was planned. The development failed — 25 years ago — but the slabs and pipes remain. It’s part of the “funk” that still pervades parts of Frayser, he says.

Less than a mile from the slabs, siding was going up on one of several new homes by a builder Lockwood likes, another “good actor” making real estate money in Frayser, he says. Lockwood and the FCDC connect potential homeowners to that builder. The group helps people get approved for loans and sends them to the builder, with no commission or any money changing hands. “We’re just trying to affect the neighborhood,” Lockwood says. If the FCDC doesn’t help the builder find local buyers, he may sell to out-of-town investors.

“I’m still trying to tip the ratios here, or figure out at what point is this no longer prime feeding ground for investors,” Lockwood says. “I’m afraid it’s prime feeding ground for quite a while yet, and there’s not much I can do about that.”

Remember the Recession?

It’s hard to know if Frayser is a prime target for Wall Street investors. But Frayser certainly was one of the the hardest hit by Wall Street in the wake of the Great Recession.

Frayser was the foreclosure capital of Tennessee, according to the FCDC. The 38127 ZIP code saw the most foreclosures in the Memphis area every year from 2000 to 2015. Those foreclosures gutted Frayser, leaving vacant houses all over the community.

But it wasn’t only low-income communities like Frayser that were hit. Foreclosure rates all over Memphis shot up 13 percent in the first half of 2008, compared to the same time the year before, according to a Memphis Daily News story by Eric Smith, published in September 2008.

“Foreclosure’s reach knows no bounds, no race, no limit on home value, no restriction on loan product,” Smith wrote. “Its reputation as being constrained to only the poorest parts of town dissipated long ago, and while it’s true that foreclosures historically have occurred in marginal neighborhoods where minority borrowers were targets of bad mortgages, foreclosure is happening frequently and with ferocity in suburbs such as Cordova, Arlington, and Collierville.”

As we know now, the national economy — and Memphis — has rebounded. The “Memphis has momentum” slogan helped Memphis Mayor Jim Strickland win another four years in office this year. Much of that momentum was pushed ahead by payment-in-lieu-of-taxes (PILOT) deals given to real estate developers, principally designed to help spur the economy out of the recession.

A 2018 study by Community Lift, a group working to accelerate the revival of the city’s disinvested neighborhoods, says the incentives have worked, for some. While shiny, new roofs sprout in abundance throughout the fertile, PILOT-charged Poplar corridor, many neighborhoods outside that verdant valley haven’t yet been lifted by the rising tide.

“Memphis has been experiencing unequal economic development,” reads a summary of the “Searching for Economic Development Equity” study. “Some neighborhoods are growing while others are stagnating or even declining.”

Lockwood says in the 1970s (when the median household incomes in Frayser were 110 percent of those in Shelby County), many Frayser residents worked at International Harvester or at the nearby Firestone tire plant. When the plants closed, many people left.

He describes much of what happened to Frayser’s population as “middle-class flight,” not necessarily “while flight.” But whatever the reason, when the people left, hundreds of homes were left vacant. According to a May 2018 report by the Frayser CDC, 1,500 homes — 11 percent of all homes in Frayser — were empty.

A research study by Community Lift says buildings in older neighborhoods often don’t meet current standards for warehouses. Therefore, most industries that the city manages to attract or retain choose to locate in industrial zones that have more suitable buildings or available land or new construction options. Blue-collar jobs concentrate in those areas, and white-collar jobs concentrate in the Poplar/I-240 corridor and Downtown, where the Downtown Memphis Commission has led efforts to attract and retain businesses and corporate headquarters.

“Not surprisingly, the neighborhoods experiencing the strongest job growth are the ones near jobs centers, or those that have good transit access to those jobs (Downtown, East Memphis, the Medical District, Midtown, and the University District),” reads the Community Lift study. “Neighborhoods farther away from those job centers have experienced decline or stagnation. Many of the job centers on the fringes of the city are very poorly served by transit connections to places with the highest unemployment.”

But there is a ray of hope in Frayser. In August, plans became public for a “colossal” (according to a Commercial Appeal headline) warehouse planned for 99 acres in Frayser, just north of the Nike distribution center. While no ground has broken on the project yet, Mayor Strickland tweeted at the time that the project was proof that “Memphis — all of Memphis — has momentum!”

The Vultures Return

It’s not really clear just how or why out-of-town investors began taking interest in Memphis’ lower-income neighborhoods. Whatever their motives, the “vultures” are back, according to that U of M Institute for Change study, and they’ve come again from Wall Street.

Wade Rathke is a founder of the nonprofit ACORN International and one of the authors of the U of M policy paper. He says in the “pump-and-dump” strategy, vulture firms will buy homes, slap a couple of coats of paint on them, line up some renters, then maybe evict them if the timing works out. They repeat this process for years, until the money dries up. When it does, the company walks away, leaving a vacant home and big question marks on who to call when the grass needs to be cut or when it becomes blighted.

“These Wall Street guys — if you think of them in the same mindset as the mafiosos — they are predatory landlords,” said Ben Sissman, a Memphis-based foreclosure prevention attorney, during the recent State of Memphis Housing summit. “They’re selling high and doing no work. They deny responsibility for what they’re doing. All they want is the rent money and nothing else.”

A 2018 Washington Post story reported that out-of-town investors bought 20 percent of all homes on the Memphis market last year. Cerberus, a Wall Street private equity firm, was the largest owner of single-family homes in Memphis in 2018, according to the Post.

So how does that affect Memphis? For one thing, such huge holdings could allow companies like Cerberus to have dominance, with the power to drive the Memphis housing market, according to Rathke.

This trend toward corporate housing ownership takes hundreds of homes off the home-buying market that might have been accessible to low- to moderate-income families — including the same families that may have been pushed out of similar homes in the foreclosure crisis, he says.

“Families [moving] in to some of these houses are paying pretty high rent and maybe have a hard time sustaining that,” Rathke says. “So, it’s basically frozen people back to where they were a decade ago. It hasn’t allowed some families in Memphis to get past the Great Recession.”

The Memphis families affected are largely African-American, according to Rathke’s research. “Renter household increases are highest among African Americans, with the total number of African-American renters double the number of white renters,” reads the paper, called “A Memphis Mirage.”   

Overall, homeownership in Memphis declined from 66 percent to 59 percent from 2010 to 2017. Since the 2008 financial crisis, no major city has had a bigger percentage drop in owner-occupied single-family housing than Memphis, according to the Washington Post. The percentage of renters rose from 34 percent to 41 percent. Black homeownership fell by 1.2 percent from 2009 to 2017. African-American rental rates increased 26.1 percent during those years. In comparison, white rental rates grew three percent.

Wealth gets sucked from neighborhoods into corporate coffers, as renters replace homeowners. Residents aren’t building equity in a home. When their lease expires, they walk away with nothing to show for it. Building home equity is considered a fundamental building block to creating wealth and financial stability in America. Amy Schaftlein, executive director of United Housing in Memphis, says renters “not only lose equity in their house and the wealth they could have built through homeownership, they also lose trust in ownership as a wealth-building tool.

“We’ve seen so much wealth stripped out of, particularly, minority neighborhoods and neighborhoods with high African-American populations because those neighborhoods were, frankly, targeted,” Schaftlein adds. “That’s just awful because you see so much wealth built and then it goes tumbling. It goes back to the old days of redlining, and you just see it happening again and again.”

Consider the Picker Pile

Yellow hazard lights blink on a Salvation Army box truck as it idles in front of a home on East Parkway. Two men haul a few valuables from the vacant home, but they largely ignore a mini-landfill by the curb. In the picker pile, tube televisions with darkened screens lie helter-skelter with faded furniture, colanders, ice trays, empty dish soap containers, sweaters, jeans, and dozens of VHS tapes. The scene has a front-row view of Tiger Lane and Liberty Bowl stadium across the way.

It has all the hallmarks of an eviction, but it’s hard to know for sure. Maybe the tenant ghosted. Maybe someone died. One thing’s for sure, Memphis is seeing a lot of evictions these days, and the picker pile has come to symbolize their plight. And if you’re seeing more of them than you used to, consider that they may now be the results of investment policies of a Wall Street firm or other out-of-town “vulture capitalist” whose investors have never heard of Liberty Bowl stadium — and care nothing about what happens to the Memphians they’ve put on the street.

Evictions are profit centers for them. Once an eviction is filed in court, says ACORN’s Rathke, the corporations can collect all kinds of fines and fees. “They’re collecting not only their back rent and whatever penalties that were laid out in a lease, but they’re also collecting court fees and filing fees,” he says. “There are some landlords, particularly in lower-income communities in Memphis and other cities, who are basically running this as an income cycle. Often they don’t follow through on the eviction because they’ve made, potentially, the rent plus the penalties.”

From 2016 to April 2019, 105,338 eviction notices were filed in Shelby County General Sessions Civil Court, according to Harrison’s research.

In 2016, 4,593 evictions were filed in New Orleans, 5,909 were filed in Birmingham, and 17,169 were filed in Richmond. In that same year, 31,633 eviction notices were filed in Memphis. Notices here went out to nearly 21 percent of all Memphis renters. Renters who got eviction notices were predominantly African-American, Harrison says.

FirstKey Homes, the property management firm owned by Cerberus, files for eviction at twice the rate of other property managers in Memphis, according to that Washington Post story. FirstKey went to court here more than 400 times in 2018, the story said.

Fighting the Tide

John Paul Shaffer says the members of his neighborhood advocacy group, BLDG Memphis, get uneasy when they see signs that read “I Buy Houses” pop up on their streets. There’s likely an out-of-town investor behind the sign, one with cash readily at hand.

This housing issue would be easier to manage, he says, if it were some thought-out policy. Instead, he, Lockwood, Schaftlein, and the many others working on housing in Memphis are fighting market forces, mostly against anonymous competitors with Scrooge McDuckian piles of capital.

Lockwood’s FCDC has bought, renovated, rented, and sold dozens of homes in Frayser, each with a signature brass plate with the FCDC logo. The group, with the help of some local developers, has almost completely revitalized one neighborhood with targeted, intensive investment and are working on rebuilding another.

Schaftlein’s United Housing is dedicated to sustainable homeownership throughout the Mid-South. The group sells homes, rents homes, offers down payment assistance, offers mortgages, and has funds for home improvement, whether the tenant owns the home or rents it.

Shaffer’s BLDG Memphis is a hub for all Memphis-area community development corporations such as the FCDC. BLDG Memphis helps those organizations fight for better housing in their neighborhoods.

All of them are witnessing the corporate rental-conversion issue first-hand. “This is part of the national narrative, and Memphis has come up as a hotspot,” Shaffer says. “We have a few instances where maybe over 1,000 properties are owned by one particular entity. That creates a lot of issues to provide service if these properties do become nuisances and code enforcement gets involved, and, then, the environmental courts get involved.”

Schaftlein says some renter agreements won’t allow tenants to make repairs to the home, and a run-down house has a ripple effect. A bad house lowers property values, and that can make other homeowners move away, destabilizing entire neighborhoods. 

“You see a lack of pride,” she says. “You see a lack of investment. Those who can leave, do. That’s what’s happened in a lot of our neighborhoods.”