The Economics of Man-Eating Lizards

My roommate, Jennie, and I popped out for a short run to nearby Jefferson Park and back last Saturday morning. We were headed down to Colorado Springs for her cousin's wedding later in the day, and we knew if we wanted some exercise, it would have to be first thing or nothing at all. The run part of our morning paused for intermission when we reached the park, as we sprawled out in the lush grass and clover for some high-powered relaxing. It's hard to resist the shade of big ol' trees like the ones in Jefferson Park on a just-warmer-than-crisp morning when you know the rest of the day, heck, the rest of every day for the next four months, is going to be scorching hot.


Of course, sprawling in the grass for upwards of a half hour meant our run was over, which wasn't entirely a bad thing, because walking back afforded us the chance to notice a few more details on the way home. For example, we passed a series of chalk drawings that began with some hopscotch squares scrolling down the sidewalk. Next came a drawing of a little girl in a pink dress, who apparently had just completed the hopscotch game. In the third frame, the artist completed the story with a zoom-out of the little girl's body, but without a head, next to a giant green lizard with the head in it's mouth and blood dripping down. And finally, the words, "The end." Who says a story needs character development? Transformers didn't do much better.

About a block from home, we found an old abandoned house that we somehow never managed to notice before. Big time fixer upper. What caught our eye (caught our eyes??), however, was the lot. For a house less than a mile from downtown, the lot was friggin' huge. Possibly a triple city lot, it housed a small garage and an even smaller shed, which, along with the main house structure, didn't leave much of a footprint on that much land. Jennie drooled over the garden oasis she could turn this space into as I climbed up the side of the main building to peek in the windows. Good thing it really was abandoned or else I could have been shot.

The house itself measured maybe only 1200 square feet, including what appeared to a be a small, finished attic (no, we didn't actually break into the house and go inside--we deduced the finished attic from the windowed dormers on both ends). Probably two or three bedrooms and one bath in all, if I were to bet. A bit small by American standards, but with way more remodeling money than we have right now, it would be perfect. How much space to people really need, anyway? I'd rather spend my time drinking mint lemonade in the back yard--with mint picked in the back yard--than getting hooked on some explosive television show on an expensive entertainment center in an expansive living room. Or maybe I could spend my time helping Jennie a bit with the garden, chatting about the Rockies game (only five blocks away) with the folks walking by. How else are we going to meet our neighbors, after all?

Poppies and roses bloomed all along both sidewalks (it's a corner lot) and all throughout the yard--maybe even enough flowers for two bee hives--and several large willow and Chinese elm trees encased the entire lot. Someone had lovingly xeriscaped from the homey little covered front porch all the way down to the street, apparently last tended to in 1959, but who cares? This place would be our own little city haven. A true nature oasis in the heart of the urban cityscape: the best of both worlds.

Well... that is, assuming that I was in the market to buy something like this, which I'm not, not really, and assuming I wanted to stick around in Colorado for a few more years, which I probably won't do, and assuming that it was for sale, which I didn't know if it was, but I'm just saying. Maybe I'll have a place like this someday, and maybe I'll just think of this place as my inspiration for what I'll look for the next time I really am in the market to buy another home, whichever city that may be. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Anyway, just thinking about the potential of this place and poking about for awhile (a.k.a. trespassing) really got us both excited. With my remodeling skills (if you could call them that) and Jennie's landscaping and gardening skills (which truly are amazing), we could turn this place, ahem, a place like this into a truly New Urban, sustainable home. The city needs more houses like this. Lots more. And coming across one with so much potential so close to downtown really got our blood pumping. Clearly, the jogging wasn't going to serve that purpose, so something had to.

Jennie suggested that I remember the address and look it up in public records. Dig up the story on the place and see who owns it; hopefully, say, a bank wanting to get rid of it for a song. I easily committed the address to memory, since I had already mentally filled out the change of address forms for my imaginary future here.

As soon as I got home, I jumped right onto the net and looked up the owner. Who did it end up being? The Potter Highlands Development Company, Inc. (I changed the name for obvious legal reasons, but you get the idea.) I know those guys. Condo developers. Of course. More lofts. Four stories of uber-trendy lofts. What city doesn't need more stupid lofts? Annoyed, I showered and left for the wedding, but several days later, I still haven't been able to let it go. How many more lofts do we need, for Pete's sake?

I know I'm being a bit harsh. After all, these developers are revitalizing a run down old neighborhood. I'm doing something similar myself over in Capitol Hill, in fact. Someone neglected this poor house, stopped making his or her payments, and then abandoned it to the bank. No one's been here for who knows how long. High-density living is far better than vacant, run-down homes. No argument there. It just seems like a shame that such a beautiful, healthy, green space and that cute little house will be bulldozed and replaced with a towering brick and steel box, extending from one property line to the other, complete with underground parking and rooftop patio. I personally enjoy seeing big yards with beautiful gardens in my neighborhood. It's why I chose to live where I do. And yet, it seems that, once again, the giant green lizard developers are hungrily waiting to rip the head off yet another innocent little home in a pink dress.

More to the point, I can't help but think that we developers (yes, I admit it, I am of reptilian heritage too) are going a bit overboard these days, creating too many new loft-style condos in too short a time. At some point, supply will inevitably overwhelm demand, leaving several years' worth of inventory unsold, and ultimately toppling the whole Denver condo market, leaving all the unwitting previous condo buyers incredibly upsidedown for many years to come, which is seriously uncool.

The pattern is easy to see. It happens all the time in markets all over the country, over and over again. Every time it does, all the developers lose their shirts. You'd think we'd learn. At least get creative and put a cafe, a wine bar, and an art gallery on the ground level, when zoning allows for it as this one does. But it rarely happens. Instead, it's always more and more lofts crammed into every last corner of the city until the bubble bursts and the cycle starts over again. Furthermore, I cringe every time I see such a beautiful space--a space that could have housed a nice little family so close to jobs, commerce, and schools--sit vacant and contribute to slum and blight instead of being fixed up and rented out, if even for just those few years until the lofts finally get built. It just seems like our cities, cities we all call home, deserve better than this.