EVICTION AT SEMINOLE ESTATES: Dismantling a Community

This Saturday when I ventured down to the Seminole Estates manufactured home community in Hollywood, Florida, I noticed a distinct change in its physical appearance. Piles of rubbish and uprooted trees appear on front lawns, the sounds of heavy machinery fill the air, and waste removal trucks, dumpsters, and Uhauls occupy parking spots. Seminole Estates is sporting that unkempt post-natural disaster look, but the residents are actually just responding to a man-made disaster decision to close the park.

Faith remains as residents of Seminole Estates dismantle their lives.

Five weeks ago, the Seminole Tribe of Florida took control of the management of the community and announced the June 30, 2013 closing of the residential community that was originally intended to operate until 2024. Within 24 hours of the STOF's public decision, all recreational amenities and meeting facilities were padlocked. Homeowners, already saddened and angered by the eviction, rendered even more powerless, robbed of any air-conditioned common space where they might commiserate and potentially gather strength to refute the act.

Fit-Mess: With pool and gym locked, residents now build muscle lifting boxes onto moving trucks and carrying parts of their home to the curb.

As the community unravels, some neighbors are sticking together. On one particular street, three homeowners are relocating to Sunshine Village in Davie. Diane Gannett is one of them. When I met Diane, she was up on the roof of her home dismantling her carport. Diane works full-time and deals with all the house stuff after hours and on weekends. She can't ask for anymore time off because long before the eviction was announced, she had reserved time off in November for her children's weddings.  Diane is in overdrive.

Diane Gannett: "They're tearing us apart."

Bud and John help Diane dismantle the shed addition.

Across the street, I see Marilyn looking out the sliding glass doors of her kitchen as a Bobcat takes aim at her front porch. When she comes out of her home, I walk over. Marilyn has lived at Seminole Estates for 41 years, and in her current 2005 Skyline home for five. Recently retired, she does not wish to stay in a place where she is no longer welcome and is motivated to get on with the next stage of her life at Sunshine Village. Marilyn gently stretches the neckline of her top a bit to reveal a tattoo. She says, "I thought about getting a tattoo for ten years and then in 20 minutes I had this one." Marilyn is a woman of action.

Marilyn will spend $2,500 at an extended stay hotel while her home is relocated. The hotel can accommodate her cats too.

Sounds of jack hammering fill the air as Marilyn's porch is about to go down.

Signs of exodus are not only evident in the rubble, they are literally staked into the ground as manufactured home communities in Broward and Palm Beach counties recruit homes for empty lots. Communities such as Coral Cay in Margate, Country Knolls in Pompano, and Rexmere Village in Davie are striking deals that lessen the financial burden on the displaced residents while simultaneously meeting lot occupancy needs. Coral Cay manager Eric Toledo is offering up to $25,000 for relocation plus a few other perks in exchange for each homeowner's promise to keep their home on the lot for 10 years. Homes must first pass inspection. So far Toledo has placed over 30 homes, one of which belongs to Kathy Maynard, the first Seminole Estate resident that I met and now a new friend.

Signs of mass exodus: Lakeshore has an office at Seminole Estates and offers complimentary shuttles to its Pompano Beach community twice a day.

While Diane, Marilyn, and Kathy are proactive and own homes built after 2000, there are plenty of others whose lives still hang in the unknown. Many of these folks own old homes (one of my favorites below) which are more prone to damage in a move. And some communities won't accept these older homes anyway. Tim Kirby, manager at Deerfield Lake in Coconut Creek, says "For us to move a home it has to be wind zone 3 and that means it has to be a 1995 or newer." Tim has placed 2 Seminole Estates homes in his community which was practically full to capacity at the time of the eviction.

At the pop-up Lakeshore Community office here at Seminole Estates, Bunnie is minding the desk. She is friendly and open. This is not her usual gig, but Bunnie is a seasoned land-leasing pro and now a self-confessed consoler.  "I listen, I feed them, and they usually leave in a better mind set. They're not angry at us," says Bunnie who assists people through the overwhelming process of moving a manufactured home. Bunnie continues, "I've seen it all, but nothing like this. These people are not beggars; they just need some help."

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UPDATE ON SEMINOLE ESTATES MOBILE HOME PARK EVICTION: ONE MONTH LATER

One month since getting notice of eviction, residents of Seminole Estates scramble to find alternate shelter while others count their losses. I continue to share their stories with the hope that anyone with legal knowledge, muscle, money and/or compassion can lend a hand to those in need of assistance greater tan the $3000 offered to those who qualify.

Sometime last week the weather shifted in South Florida.  The humidity is lower and delicious breezes are blowing. Fall is in the air. Last October, the residents of Seminole Estates were decorating their homes for Halloween. This year, few took the time because they just don't have it. They are too busy packing up their lives.

Jamie Doyle: "Fighting takes too much energy."

I meet up with Jamie Doyle as she is exercising Rambo on a little plot of grass near the entrance to the Estates. A security guard for the neighboring Seminole casino parks nearby and engages her for a few moments, giving his two cents about the situation. He describes the eviction as "being kicked to the curb." Jamie prefers not to get into it. She merely suggests that the Seminoles could have showed more compassion. She doesn't want to dwell in the negative; she's got to stay focused on figuring out her future. At this point she knows that any move will increase her living expenses by at least $200 a month.

Jamie tells Madame Michelle that she can sell the aluminum before she moves.

A box spring  now occupies Madame Michele's kitchen.

Madame Michele is also looking at a sizable rent increase. She is 76 years old and lives on social security. She was a former home care assistant and says she was often voted employee of the month. Between her heavy Haitian Creole accent and my poor French we communicated as best we can.

Madame takes a moment to give thanks.

She plans to get out of the park before the end of the month and has started turning her house upside down. Her son is not too well and she is doing most of the work herself. While she is certainly put out by the move, she holds strong to her faith. She has bad arthritis and wants to make sure she gets to her local doctors one last time before the move.

Darrell Coe is dismantling all the work he did on his home.

Darrell Coe is disassembling the carport on his 1975 mobile home. "You can never get it back right," he says hoping to get something for the scrap metal. He and his wife Carol bought their home in Seminole Estates 10 years ago for $26,000 and put roughly $12,000 into renovations. Darrell did most of the work himself.

Carol Coe: "We're hoping our house makes the trip."

Carol and Darrell will be out of the park on the 26th. Their home is being relocated 25 miles north to Highland Village in Pompano Beach and should be livable again within 6-7 weeks. They are not sure where they will stay for the duration but need to make a plan so they can continue working. Once resettled, their commute to work will be three times longer than it is now. Despite that change, the Coes are relieved that they finally found a community that would arrange to take their older model mobile.

Others are starting to take homes apart too. Unwanted furniture and piles of debris are common lawn ornament now. Via email Teri Vasterling writes, "Under cover of night and in whispers behind closed doors, folks are planning their move out of a place we once called 'home.' I'm not waving a white flag...my personal fight will continue after I make my escape."

Via email and personal visits, I am grateful to those sharing their stories with me and look forward to gathering more. Thank you.