Evictions

[Martin Hash]

I always say "landlording is young man's work." At least at the low end: poor tenants will choose to buy dope before they'll pay their rent, and they won't leave unless they have someplace to go, so what's a landlord to do? My brother, Marshall, and I had two-dozen properties when we were young men. He would refurbish & rent them, and I would do evictions. I didn't care who was in the house, I didn't care what day: even on Christmas. One guy sicced his dog on me: I kicked it until it started whelping. Another guy called me and said he was going to beat my face in: I yelled, "I'm coming to KILL YOU!" over the phone, frightening my wife: he left. I hated doing evictions but we couldn't find anybody else; in fact, other landlords called and asked if I’d do theirs.

This is how an eviction works in the state of Washington: the tenants have to move out on their own: you can’t bodily throw them out. It has to go through the legal steps. First post an Eviction Notice then set a court date to get in front of a judge for a Writ of Retainer and Right of Restitution, then take that to the Sheriff’s office to hire a Sheriff Reserve officer to observe but not participate in any way.

The Pro

Marshall once bought a rental at half price because the owner couldn’t get the tenant to leave after 3 years & spending thousands for attorney fees, but we evicted him in 10 days. The guy was really savvy about how to squat. He'd strung the previous owner along by giving him a few bucks and promising to pay the rest as soon as he got it. The way he made money was to put a sign up on the property that said "Salvage Accepted Here," and charged half what the dump did. The 5 acre parcel was 10 feet high in debris. In fact, there was a 2nd garage on the property we didn't even know about because it was mounded over. The owner was getting fined $250/day for the "public nuisance." He was put in contact with us because people knew the Hash Brothers handled “problem” properties.

The delinquent renter actually showed up at the hearing and offered us $10, and to make things difficult, he said the salvage refuse was his. That’s when we had him over a barrel because the judge allowed us to move the guy’s “personal” property into a public area - the street, which set the whole neighborhood, who supported the deadbeat by-the-way, into a panic because there was a lot of stuff: wood, bricks, old appliances, metal & other recyclables. We stacked it down the road for a mile. The sheriff didn’t like it but we had the Order. This went on for days, and we would knock on the renter’s door every 8 hours, the minimum The Court would allow, and ask him, "Do you need help moving?" The guy tried to claim harassment but lost. Additionally, the guy had 5 dozen 6-toed cats he said were worth money so we couldn't call the pound until he left, and there were also a half-dozen active bee hives but I did take those home. He finally left without us even knowing.

The Helpers

During the eviction heyday, I had this 1968 Mercury Montego convertible with a radical cam & glas-paks. Roarrrr... Blub, blub, blub... That was one loud, evil-sounding car. I would put on a long duster, silver-tipped boots and a cowboy hat and drive up onto the lawn, put in a Black Sabbath cassette full blast, rev the engine, and make a big show so that the neighbors would come out of their houses to watch. I'd walk up to the door of the delinquent renter, kick it with heel of my boot, and yell "Where's... my... F...ING... money!"

1968 Mercury Montego Convertible.jpg

I was full-on in the animation business but still had a bunch of low-rent units that I was 1031 exchanging out of. Marshall called me to say there was a unit that the tenants would not leave and he needed to prep for inspection. They were 3 months behind. I had some animators, Tim & Bob, visiting from California
"Hey, you guys want to come help me do a thing?" I asked.
"What do you need?" Tim said.
"Nothing. All you gotta do is stand there."
So they got up from their computer stations and came out to Merc which I’d brought to work just for the occasion.
“Cool!” Bob said. “I’d heard about this thing and now I get to ride in it.”
We slowly drove downtown to the problem rental. Tim & Bob were looking around at the rundown neighborhood.
"Don't worry," I reassured them.
I stopped the Merc in front of the house but didn’t turn it off so that it sat there rumbling loudly. I turned the radio up real loud, got out, opened the trunk, put on the jacket, hat and boots.
"What are you getting dressed up for?" Bob asked.
"Nothing. You stand here." I showed Bob where to stand. "And you stand right here by the door," I said to Tim.
Bob was a big unshaven fella, and skinny Tim had long straggly hair: they looked like druggies; scariest animators ever.
I took three big breaths. One. Two. Three. Then I kicked the door with the heel of my cowboy boot.
Normally, I just made a lot of racket because kicking in doors in only on TV, but this was an old place and the door splintered inward. I followed the script.
"Where's! My! F...ing! Money!"
The gal inside was talking on the phone. Her mouth fell open and then she started crying and collapsed to the floor.
I walked back to the car. Tim & Bob didn't move.
"What are you guys doing?" I asked. "We're done here."
I took them to lunch but they didn't eat.

The Ex-Boyfriend

The ex-boyfriend of one of our renters, who wasn’t even on the lease, stayed in the house after the legal renter left.
Marshall called me.
"I looked in the window at C Street today and that guy stole the fixtures and the wires. He's got to go now!"
"When?"
"Now."
"I'll be there in a bit. Hold on, wait for me."
When I got there I asked, "Is the guy inside?"
"Yeah. Let me try first,” Marshall said.
He walked over to the house, knocked, yelled something through the door, turned the knob and walked in. He left the door open.
He was in there for about 10 minutes.
"Martin!” I heard him call.
I was in my long coat with the cowboy hat and boots. I walked in, saw the light fixtures gone, and the walls tore up. Marshall was standing near the guy. I didn't say anything. I walked into the bathroom; the toilet was full of shit, and the water heater was tilted up, presumably so the guy could get something to drink because the water was turned off to the house. I walked back into the room with Marshall and the guy.
"You're going to need to leave," I said.
"I been telling him that," Marshall said.
"I got no place to go but sleep in my car," the guy whined.
"Then sleep in your car," I replied.
"You can't make me go," the guy said, belligerently.
I didn't say anything. We stood staring at each other for about a minute. I took a step toward the guy. He moved towards the open door. I took another step, he got to the door but he didn't step through it. He turned, I'm guessing he was going to say something but saw Marshall and me standing there menacingly then he turned back and went out to his car. I walked over and shut the door. Through the window, Marshall and I watched the guy bang on the steering wheel of his old beater before turning the starter, over and over. I was thinking it wasn't going to start but eventually it did, and the guy peeled off. He yelled something out the window. I don't know what he said but I can guess. That was my last eviction because I was no longer a young man.

[DBTrek]

Sounds like a lot of bullshit to deal with.
Terrible people.
No help from the state.

Go on.
What else did you see?

[Martin Hash]

Sounds like a lot of bullshit to deal with.
Terrible people.
No help from the state.

Go on.
What else did you see?

My mom reads these MM threads...

[DBTrek]

Sounds like a lot of bullshit to deal with.
Terrible people.
No help from the state.

Go on.
What else did you see?

My mom reads these MM threads...

Well ... this is a good one.
I'd repost to social media because these stories are:
1) Interesting
2) Amusing
3) Action packed
4) Sure to drive any lefty crazy - just the thought of a "rich OWG" kicking deadbeats out of houses they're squatting is enough to make them want to burn down the nearest FootLocker.


I'd get a book of "Evictions By An Old Cyber Cowboy".

[Haumana]

This is like a Tarantino script. Make this a podcast or a movie and you will have your fame.