February 10, 2010,
9:30 PM
Slumburbia
By TIMOTHY EGAN
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/02/10/slumburbia/?th&emc=th
Timothy
Egan on American
politics and life, as seen from the West.
LATHROP, Calif. -
Drive along foreclosure alley, through new planned communities that
look like tile-roofed versions of a 21st century ghost town, and you
see what happens when people gamble with houses instead of casino
chips.
Dirty flags advertise rock-bottom discounts on empty starter mansions.
On the ground, foreclosure signs are tagged with gang graffiti. Empty
lots are untended, cratered with mud puddles from the winter storms
that have hammered California's San Joaquin Valley.
Nobody is home in the cities of the future.
In a decade, they saw real property defy reality in real time in these
insta-neighborhoods that sprouted in what had been some of the
world's most productive farmland.
In places like Lathrop, Manteca and Tracy, population nearly doubled
in 10 years, and home prices tripled. After inhaling all this real
estate helium, some developers and their apologists in urban planning
circles hailed the boom as the new America at the far exurban fringe.
Every citizen a homeowner! Half-acre lots for all! No credit, no
problem!
Others saw it as the residential embodiment of the Edward Abbey line
that "growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of the cancer
cell."
Now median home
prices have fallen from $500,000 to $150,000 - among the most
precipitous drops in the nation - and still the houses sit empty,
spooky and see-through, waiting on demography and psychology to catch
up.
In strip malls where tenants seem to last no longer than the life
cycle of a gold fish, the bottom-feeders have moved in. "Coming
soon: Cigarette City," reads one sign here in Lathrop, near a
"Cash Advance" outlet.
Take a pulse: How
can a community possibly be healthy when one in eight houses are in
some stage of foreclosure? How can a town attract new people when the
crime rate has spiked well above the national average? How can a
family dream, or even save, when unemployment hovers around 16
percent?
Yet if these
staggered exurbs, about two hours inland from San Francisco, were an
illness, they would not quite be Abbey's cancer. Though sick,
foreclosure alley is not terminal. This is not Detroit with sunshine.
It will be reborn, remade, inhabited. The question is: as what?
Nationwide, a record 2.8 million homes received foreclosure notices
last year - up 119 percent from two years ago. Just under 5 million
homeowners - 1 in 10 mortgages - owe more than their houses are
worth. The
impulse is to walk away. Surrender. And many have.
What they leave behind, along with the gang presence, the vandalism
and the absence of vested owners, is a slum. A new slum.
In an
influential article in the Atlantic in 2008, the writer Christopher B.
Leinberger predicted that the catastrophic collapse of the new home
market could turn many of today's McMansions into
tenements.
I'm not sure of
that. After several days in foreclosure alley, this broad swath of the
Central Valley that has been rated by some economists as the most
stressed region during the Great Recession, I can't see such
apocalyptic forecasts coming true.
Yes, huge developments are empty, with rising crime at the edges, and
thousands of homes owned by banks that can't unload them even at
fire-sale prices.
But through it all, the country churns and expands, unlike most other
Western democracies. That great American natural resource - tomorrow
- will have to save the suburban slums.
Through
immigration and high birth rates, the United States is expected to add
another 100 million people by 2050. If you don't believe me,
consider that we've added 105 million people since 1970. This is
more than the population of France. More than Italy. More than
Germany. Currently, we have a net gain of one person every 13
seconds.
At some point, the
market will settle on proper pricing levels. At its peak, only 11
percent of the people in this valley could afford the median home
price.
In the meantime,
during these low, ragged years, a few lessons about urban planning can
be picked from the stucco pile.
One is that, at
least here in California, the outlying cities themselves encouraged
the boom, spurred by the state's broken tax system. Hemmed in by
property tax limitations, cities were compelled to increase revenue by
the easiest route: expanding urban boundaries. They let developers
plow up walnut groves and vineyards and places that were supposed to
be strawberry fields forever to pay for services demanded by new
school parents and park users.
Second, look at
the cities with stable and recovering home markets. On this coast, San
Francisco, Portland, Seattle and San Diego come to mind. All of these
cities have fairly strict development codes, trying to hem in their
excess sprawl. Developers, many of them, hate these restrictions. They
said the coastal cities would eventually price the middle class out,
and start to empty.
It hasn't
happened. Just the opposite. The developers' favorite role models,
the laissez faire free-for-alls - Las Vegas, the Phoenix metro area,
South Florida, this valley - are the most troubled, the suburban
slums.
Come see: this is what happens when money and market, alone, guide the
way we live.