“The Tenants at Summerdale”
After saying goodbye to James, we went to inspect the neighboring unit. Mr. Hayes knocked on the door and screamed “Management”. Within seconds after the knock, Miguel Valdez answered the door and smiled at the group. He was expecting us. He invited us into the unit with a thick Hispanic accent, stepping aside with a wave of the hand.
The group entered the unit which had a household environment exactly opposite of the one we just inspected occupied by James. The living room carpet was covered with large colorful throw rugs and there were dirty worn sofas and easy chairs crammed in the small room. A large map of Mexico hung on the wall next to a leaning shelf stuffed with soccer trophies. A large TV competed for space among the chairs and couches, emitting the noise of screaming fans from a televised soccer game between Mexico and Argentina. A young woman wearing a traditional apron stood in front of the stove noisily frying beef in an oversized pan. Bags of flour tortillas, cartons of meat, cans of beans and other spices and ingredients, many in Spanish covered the counters and kitchen table. Two large pots were boiling on the stove, and something in the oven was emitting a wonderful smell.
It was hard to inspect the appliances and counters with food and dishes scattered everywhere. Miguel spoke to the cook in Spanish and she moved out of the way so we could look in the refrigerator, stove, and oven. I inspected the dishwasher and it was rusted, but full of clean dishes. There was an active leak on the ceiling above the sink but no mold. After noting my findings on the checklist, I joined the others in the hallway to inspect the three bedrooms. One of the rooms had a padlock and Maya asked Miguel to unlock the door. At first Miguel resisted opening the door, but after a brief conversation in Spanish, he produced a key and opened the door.
The larger master bedroom was in a total disarray, with an unmade king-sized bed and piles of dirty clothes strewn all over the floor. Over in one corner sat a crib with a baby on her back, soundly sleeping among the chaos. The mess spilled into the bathroom where half-used personal products crowded the limited sink space and wet towels piled up on the floor. While I saw no signs of leaks there was no evidence of regular cleanings either. I walked out into the hallway to see that Miguel had magically opened the second bedroom door and was waiting for me with the door open. Inside the room were four small mattresses, in various stages of tidiness lining the floor. Heaps of clothing gathered in the corners, possibly contributing to the room’s musty odor. The third bedroom was a little neater with three mattresses on the floor and a small refrigerator in the corner. The closet was populated with hangers of men’s shirts and several nice business suits, probably for church. Shoes lined up neatly organized on the floor. As soon as I exited the third bedroom, Miguel closed the door and locked the deadbolt. The Phase II units had washer/dryer connections and both appliances were running at full speed with piles of clothes stacked into the laundry room and hallway. I did a mental count of the beds and it added up to nine adults and one child living in a three-bedroom apartment unit. Miguel was running an illegal rooming house and the woman at the stove was the chef and laundress, but certainly not the housekeeper. Based on the occupancy, the business was brisk and very profitable. At $100 per week per occupant, Miguel was pulling in over $3,000 per month by renting to seven others – probably immigrant construction workers.
Summerdale did not have individual water meters for each unit and the thought of the water consumption and expense for Miguel ’s crowded apartment unit made me grimace. Atlanta has one of the highest water rates in the country and with 10 occupants, the water bill would easily be over $400 a month; however, Miguel only paid $600 in monthly rent and a flat fee of $45 to cover his share of the water bill per the lease. This unit was operating at a loss to the landlord. Miguel ’s lease file contained little information other than he was from Nicaragua. A copy of a valid social security card accompanied his low Accu-score credit report of 39, with a recommendation to accept with one-months’ rent as a security deposit. Since Miguel had no credit history, there was nothing that would disqualify him from leasing an apartment. Miguel listed “Construction” as his occupation with an annual income of $36,400—but he made a nice living running a very profitable illegal boarding house at Summerdale. No criminal background check or evidence of income was included in his file. Later in the day, Miguel greeted us at another 3-bedroom unit where six occupants appeared to be living.
