The Wichita Eagle, Nov. 11, 2015
http://www.kansas.com/news/local/article44329398.html
By Kelsey Ryan
Dante Eddy called her landlord about the rat droppings in her house on Cessna Drive.
Nothing changed.
She called about the broken windows, the unusable toilet, the bathroom sink that overflows when the kitchen sink is drained, black mold, the broken furnace, the water heater that doesn’t work, the hole in the kitchen cabinet that reveals the dirt below, the mice coming out of holes near power outlets, the birds and bees living in the siding, the leaky pipes under the house, branches and junk in the yard, no mailbox, no stove, no refrigerator.
Nothing changed.
Rent is $375 a month.
The family used the bathroom and sponge-bathed at the QuikTrip a mile away. They washed their dishes in the bathtub.
Lots of people live that way in Planeview, a neighborhood in southeast Wichita built to house nearly 20,000 aircraft workers and their families in the 1940s.
The houses were built to last only through World War II.
But 72 years later, many are still standing – barely. They are home to thousands of impoverished Wichitans.
Eddy moved to Wichita with her two sons in September. She wanted a fresh start away from Kansas City.
The house in Planeview wasn’t what she had in mind.
‘Miracle City’
Bernie Dove is the Queen of Whitney Lane.
Dove, 87, has lived on the quiet street in Planeview since the early 1950s, slowly buying up duplexes and triplexes around her. She now owns 10 units – all but one property on her block.
She’s a good person to ask about Planeview because she’s seen it change over the years, and she tries to keep up her properties.
“If you want a neighborhood to be nice in Planeview, you’d better own it. A lot of people out here who own property want the money out of it, but they don’t ever want to do anything for repair. That is the problem. Outside of that, I love Planeview,” says Dove, who mows all the lawns herself and has lined the street with American flags.
At 5 p.m., you can hear “The Star Spangled Banner” playing from McConnell Air Force Base nearby.
Initially hailed as the “Miracle City,” Planeview was part of America’s war effort – think Rosie the Riveter and Victory Gardens and the Stars and Stripes.
Planeview – and the war – drastically changed Wichita’s trajectory as the Air Capital of the World.
Built on about 500 acres in southeast Wichita, Planeview is bordered by Pawnee to the north, South Hillside to the west, East 31st Street to the south and I-35 and George Washington Boulevard to the east.
It was one of three Federal Housing Administration projects in Wichita, along with Beechwood (removed in 1955) near Douglas and Webb, and Hilltop Manor, which still has some original structures, to the north.
Planeview had its own post office, schools, movie theater, grocery stores – everything a war-time city ought to have. It quickly grew to the seventh-largest population center in Kansas.
After the war, Wichita was short on housing. Local and federal governments passed the buck on the pesky Planeview problem.
It’s unclear how many other temporary housing structures remain standing or if Planeview is the last of its kind – the only one the government didn’t fix.
In the 1950s, the federal government sold off the houses and the city annexed the land.
In 1965, Robert DesMarteau, director of the Wichita Urban Renewal Agency, told The Eagle that the federal government selling the temporary houses was inconsistent with its “program of slum clearance and urban re-development.”
He suggested direct congressional action to clear Planeview and other similar projects.
“The government should be willing to right its own wrong.”
Nothing changed.
‘It’s all about survival’
A rooster crows in Planeview.
It’s a Tuesday afternoon in October.
Makeshift barns with chickens, geese and goats clutter small yards. A hammock hangs high in the trees.
There’s not much grass in Planeview. It’s mostly gravel, uneven concrete and unkempt alleyways. Some of the houses don’t have street access, commune-like communities built for residents who didn’t need cars because they were bused to work to build B-29s.
Poverty crept in gradually, affecting an estimated 40 percent of Planeview residents by 2010.
In 1960, the median household income, adjusted for inflation, was $39,132. Now, it’s about $23,000.
In that same time, the number of homeowners decreased from 41 percent to 23 percent. The median value for homes is $36,600. Most of the homes are bought outright because banks won’t readily loan for them – or to the people willing to buy them.
Bulky waste – couches, mattresses and other trash – litters some street corners, even though the city had held a neighborhood cleanup a week before.
Two extension cords run across alleyways for neighbors to get electricity. It’s not uncommon to see neighbors helping neighbors like that, says Janet Johnson, community services supervisor for the city.
“For people in poverty, it’s all about survival. Relationships mean everything,” she says.
Johnson worked in the city’s Planeview neighborhood office for eight years. She knows the people and the problems. She loves it here.
“Sometimes it’s like walking through a Third World country. The sad thing is there’s a whole lot of people in our city that have no idea.”
‘I can’t go back’
A 66-year-old Laotian woman, Bouakhiane, sits on her front porch in Planeview.
It’s probably one of the last warm days this fall. The porch is covered in pots and pans and plants. Shoes sit outside the door.
Her little granddaughter, with a gold pendant of a monk around her neck, points out the neighbor’s chickens on the loose.
“Chicken! Look!”
But Bouakhiane isn’t too concerned.
She and her husband, a soldier, fled as refugees from Laos to the U.S. in 1979, landing first in North Carolina.
Planeview is one of the most diverse neighborhoods in Wichita. Cultures and foods and religions and ways of life collide here.
About 75 percent of Planeview residents are minorities. About 14 percent are Asian, largely Southeast Asian refugees who came in the late 1970s and 1980s, including some fleeing Communist forces.
Bouakhiane came to Planeview five years ago. She didn’t have family here, but she knew of the tight-knit Laotian community. And she knew rent was cheap.
She pays $250 a month to her Laotian landlord. He has only a few properties, she says, so he can fix things quickly.
In this small Laotian community, the landlord has a reputation to uphold. You don’t want to cause a rift in the family.
It’s a small two-bedroom, shared with her two daughters. It’s different than her old home in Laos. She owned that one.
“I loved my home. But what can I do? I’m a refugee. I can’t go back,” she says through an interpreter.
She likes her new house, though.
Her backyard garden is dying now. But there was a papaya tree, cilantro, basil, eggplant, chile peppers, lemongrass.
In Laos, she sold vegetables. Here, they’re just for family.
She’s not worried about crime in Planeview.
“There’s nothing for them to take from me.”
‘Dwelling Shall Remain Vacant’
Dante Eddy, who complained to the city, was served an eviction notice for the house on Cessna Drive, which she thinks is retaliation by her landlord.
The city stepped in, sticking a large orange sign on the front door:
“HOUSING VIOLATION”
“THIS DWELLING SHALL REMAIN VACANT and not occupied until the violations have been corrected”
The house has several life and safety issues, which could lead to sickness or death if someone continues to live there, according to Tom Stolz, director of the agency that enforces city housing codes. It also has structural issues.
While waiting for the eviction hearing – the orange sign still on the door – the family remained in the house.
Teresa Phillips, the landlord, claimed in the eviction suit that Eddy didn’t pay the rent. Eddy claimed she paid the agreed-upon amount, and that the landlord did not provide adequate housing under Kansas law.
City inspectors had nine investigations this year related to code violations on five of Phillips’ properties, mostly along Cessna Drive in Planeview. Three are active, according to city data.
She owes thousands in back taxes to the county on multiple properties, according to county data. Attempts to reach Phillips were unsuccessful.
The city plans to file misdemeanor charges against Phillips for violations at the house Eddy rented, Stolz said.
Eddy didn’t have a lawyer, but she was confident things would work out.
“No matter what, we’ll have our happy ending.”
‘Heckuva big hammer’
Stolz was in the Wichita Police Department for more than 30 years, rising to deputy chief.
He’s blunt – a straight-shooter. The guy has seen it all.
Three years ago, he got a chance to lead a merger of the city and county planning departments. Part of that job is overseeing housing, including code violations.
Housing in Planeview has been a challenge. Most of the houses didn’t meet city code when they were built quickly 72 years ago.
City inspectors can’t just walk into a house they suspect violates code. Complaints have to be reported.
Stolz thinks that housing violations, specifically health and safety issues like gas leaks, are underreported in Planeview.
Part of the reason? General distrust of government and police by the population.
Why would someone complain to the government about bad plumbing that a landlord won’t fix when, for example, they could be deported?
That makes it difficult for city inspectors to hold landlords accountable.
Enforcement of housing code has become more efficient over the last three years, Stolz said, since the city has changed from two warnings to one for violations. Before, they had some housing cases that lasted years.
If the landlord doesn’t fix problems, the case goes to court.
But that isn’t always enough to deter some landlords.
“We need to figure out a way, and we haven’t done it yet, on what we do with these five, 10 or 15 slumlords we have here that have substandard housing in huge quantities and what we do to combat them,” Stolz said.
“We’ll take them to court now and the judge is pretty limited on what he can do. He can’t throw all these guys in jail. There’s no stomach to do that. So he’ll fine them and they’ll pay it and just keep going. It’s part of how they do business. I don’t have licenses I can pull. The only threat I have for landlords to keep their housing up is through municipal court. And I don’t know that that’s scaring them enough.”
City officials had preliminary talks about a rental registry, which could include free registration or licensing of some kind and inspections. But landlords said that they shouldn’t all be punished for the actions of a few bad apples.
Stolz thinks some sort of registry would solve the problem.
“That’s a heckuva big hammer to have over somebody. We have no such mechanism right now.”
But he admits that it would be a huge amount of regulation.
Officials considered creating a registry only for landlords who had a certain number of code violations. But the city legal department said that would be unequal treatment.
‘Not tooting my horn’
Rob Snyder is the King of Planeview.
But now, he wants to abdicate his throne.
Over the past 20 years, he’s bought hundreds of properties in Wichita. At one point, he owned about 11 percent of the Planeview and Hilltop neighborhoods.
So far this year, city inspectors have had 31 investigations related to code violations on Snyder’s properties across the city, most of which are now closed. Of those, six were in Planeview and 16 were in Hilltop.
Snyder has one of the highest volumes of code violation investigations in Wichita, according to city data.
There currently are 12 open investigations, two in Planeview and 10 in Hilltop.
Snyder says he is trying to help clean up the neighborhood.
“Nobody has put the money I’ve put into Planeview. Nobody.”
He cites the 27 new homes he built four years ago in the neighborhood. And the Save-A-Lot grocery store.
“That was a big shot in the arm out there.”
He mentions the boarded-up houses he’s purchased and the $6 million spent in repairs and renovations.
“That’s a fact. That’s not tooting my horn. That’s just a fact.”
There’s not a house in Planeview that shouldn’t have a violation, Snyder says.
“They are very old. They were never meant to last this long. There’s no foundations. It does provide a good stock of affordable housing that I don’t know where they would go if there wasn’t Planeview or Hilltop.”
“If you have something rent-ready, they’ll rent. So what that tells me is there’s still a demand for affordable housing.”
About three years ago, Snyder decided to start selling his properties. He isn’t selling to investors – just families, one unit at a time.
“I’m tired. I’m old. The thing about properties in Planeview is you can put money into the property but you really can’t train tenants to take care of them. It’s just not going to happen.”
Snyder has contracts on 65 duplexes he’s selling to individual people in the neighborhood, similar to a rent-to-own arrangement.
Snyder’s goal over the next two years is to sell all of his duplexes to owners who occupy them.
“I believe that will make a big, big difference. Will it fix the problem in Planeview or Hilltop? No, I don’t know if it will ever be fixed.”
‘My own house’
City leaders haven’t found a solution for Planeview in 70 years.
About 77 percent of housing there is rented, according to the Census. That’s more than twice the citywide average.
For Stolz, there’s only one way to fix Planeview: People need to buy the houses and live there.
People like Alma.
She’s part of a Hispanic population that grew from 37 percent to 53 percent from 2000 to 2010.
Alma, who didn’t want her last name published, may be the saving grace of Planeview.
77 percentPlaneview houses that are renter-occupied
35 percentAverage renter-occupancy for Wichita
Three years ago, she bought her house in Planeview for $20,000 cash.
“I always dreamed I wanted to have my own house,” she says.
A single mom of three, Alma is fixing up the house, saving up to buy one window at a time, turning the duplex built in the 1940s into a single-family home.
Her neighbors are doing the same thing. Houses in Planeview are still better than many in Mexico, she says.
“Where I came from, you had to carry buckets of water.”
She worries about crime in the neighborhood. And she sees people drive into Planeview and dump their trash.
“They believe Planeview is a trashcan.”
Alma moved to Wichita from Mexico in 1996 because her husband’s family was here. And for 12 years, the family rented in Planeview.
Rent was $325 a month. There were sewer and maintenance problems.
She wants to see more city cleanup days.
And she wants to see more code enforcement by the city for the rentals around the home she is trying to save.
Broader attempts over 25 years to save Planeview haven’t worked, Stolz said.
Buying up properties and building new would be a risky move for developers since surrounding property values are so low, he says. Mass removal of people from the dilapidated houses isn’t a viable option, either.
“If we simply go in and start removing people from houses, you’re going to increase the live-under-the-bridge population,” Stoltz said. “Nobody is interested in doing that. At the same time you don’t want people to live in squalor, either.”
“I don’t think people want government coming in and razing neighborhoods,” he said. “And I think taxpayers would have a problem with that. In the state of Kansas, there’s a lot of property rights.”
Now is the time for the city – and the community – to fix Planeview, he said.
“We shouldn’t just allow an area of a city to continue to suffer like this. It’s a political issue. It’s going to take developers, banks, city government officials, county government officials. We’re going to have to sit around a table and say ‘What do we do?’”
‘We’re going to be good’
Dante Eddy couldn’t get a lawyer to take her eviction case, so she represented herself in the 18th District Court.
The judge did not rule in her favor.
She had to leave the house by the end of the week. The eviction could affect her ability to rent in the future.
But for now, she and her sons have found a new place.
“We’re going to be good,” she says.
The new apartment is in Planeview.