Like everything (almost everything?) in my life, it began as a whim: I'd buy one of the many beautiful, old houses that have been abandoned in Holyoke, renovate it, and sell it. History will be preserved, we'll have a project for a while, and we'll make a couple of bucks–if everything goes according to plan, of course.
Find a house that I love; being emotionally invested would help me make it from beginning of project to completion. That's just a big boat-load of honesty talking there–I tend to walk away from things when I get bored. If I was putting money on the line–especially money in the amounts this project would require–I knew I needed to keep myself engaged.
Am I the only one who looks at real estate for fun? Sure–we just bought our own house a couple of years ago, but I still regularly look up houses I see with for sale signs out front. Zillow? Trulia? I obsess over them like other women obsess over wedding sites or shoe sales. Makeup? Not my thing, but architecture? Paint colors? Light fixtures? That shit is my jam. Looking at houses would not be a problem for me. So, let me refine that first step:
Find a house that I love:
I never asked if any of the junkies (we have quite the heroine problem around these parts these days) had died in there–but it seemed likely. We found overflowed toilets that still had rancid water and... wait, you've seen Trainspotting? You're familiar with The Worst Toilet in Scotland? Enough said.
Readers, meet 58 Taylor Street.
So, what's the plan, anyway?
Knowing absolutely nothing about flipping a house (besides what I've seen on tv or what I watched my mom go through), I figured my plan would look something like this:Find a house that I love; being emotionally invested would help me make it from beginning of project to completion. That's just a big boat-load of honesty talking there–I tend to walk away from things when I get bored. If I was putting money on the line–especially money in the amounts this project would require–I knew I needed to keep myself engaged.
Am I the only one who looks at real estate for fun? Sure–we just bought our own house a couple of years ago, but I still regularly look up houses I see with for sale signs out front. Zillow? Trulia? I obsess over them like other women obsess over wedding sites or shoe sales. Makeup? Not my thing, but architecture? Paint colors? Light fixtures? That shit is my jam. Looking at houses would not be a problem for me. So, let me refine that first step:
Find a house that I love:
- Priced low enough to buy outright
- Requiring work, but not SO MUCH work that we won't make any money off it
- That's in a good location
- That's a manageable size (so that the timeline to completion isn't too long)
Easy enough, right?
If at first you don't succeed...
So I stopped just idly looking at houses and started sending listings to my real estate agent, asking him to set up showings. Although good friends with my agent (who is also my general contractor), getting him involved in looking at houses meant getting serious about buying something.
Together, we looked at a couple of places. Prices ranged from $30k-$70k. Geographically we stuck to Holyoke and the edges of Chicopee. We even put in some offers–one was just frustrating and a little heart-breaking.
The downfall of falling in love
Right around the block from the house we live in, I found and fell in love with a big old (virtually condemned) Victorian house. Listed as "for sale by owner" at $39k, it seemed like a possibility for us. I stalked the place for a couple weeks, doing walk & drive-bys like a creep. I figured it was worth taking a look.
It took weeks for my agent to get a call back from the seller, and when he finally scheduled a showing, the seller didn't show up. I am, if nothing else, a determined person. We kept bugging the seller until we were finally able to meet up–and to get city officials there, because, as I previously mentioned, the house was basically condemned.
I don't think you'll be surprised when I tell you that this house, although structurally beautiful, was in atrocious condition. The owner had purchased it cheap (around $50k) with the same intention we had: renovate and sell. Unfortunately, he was in the army and was deployed, abandoning the house in a semi-renovated state. While out of the country, squatters had taken over.
I never asked if any of the junkies (we have quite the heroine problem around these parts these days) had died in there–but it seemed likely. We found overflowed toilets that still had rancid water and... wait, you've seen Trainspotting? You're familiar with The Worst Toilet in Scotland? Enough said.
We leave the showing and I tell my agent, "There's no damn way that house is worth $39k. Tell them I'll give them $25k cash today." So my agent, being the diligent man that he is, he makes the verbal offer to the seller, who turns him down flat. $25k just wasn't enough. Oh well. I figured it was no big deal, I'd keep looking.
But I'll tell you something: I couldn't stop thinking about that house. The round tower bit? It still had its original, curved glass windows. Although a bit rough, the wrap-around porch on the first floor was 90% intact. It was breaking my heart to see such a beautiful old building rot away to nothing... but I'm not crazy–I WAS NOT going to budge on that price.
About 6 weeks later, they apparently weren't having much luck selling the house because the price dropped to $32k. Perfect. I called my agent: "Offer them $21k cash for the house." He did and they said yes. It was November 2016. We put the paperwork together and started planning our renovation.
Now, the next part of this story gets a little crazy, so I'm going to abbreviate it:
- My agent began reaching out to the city to figure out what we would need to do in order to get this house in "livable" condition
- We also made an offer to the city on the vacant lot next door to house
- We engaged with a lawyer to do a title search
- We lost contact with the seller and his lawyer–they both stopped returning our calls
- We were really pressing them to close before the end of the year
- Our lawyer discovered that the house had just been sold: the seller wasn't the owner and that while the seller had engaged with us, the owner had come home and sold the property to someone else–for less than I'd offered
#heartbreak.
Honestly. I was crushed. I really, truly, loved that house and had beautiful visions for it. Now, some property management company owns it and I'm certain those beautiful original windows will just be smashed out and replaced with cheap new ones... I get a little teary-eyed just writing about it, even now.
Here we go, again.
It's June of 2017. I'm excited about a single-family, attached brick affair here in Holyoke. Listed (again) as "for sale by owner" at $29k. We had no trouble getting in to see this one and we LOVED the space, immediately.
Readers, meet 58 Taylor Street.
Built in 1890. 2 floors, 3 bedrooms, 1 bath. Full basement. About 1700 square feet on a 4000 square foot lot.
Abandoned for at least 3 years. Partially renovated by someone with NO knowledge of home improvement. Electrical? In need of replacing. Plumbing? Had frozen, pipes had burst–needed complete replacement. Basement floor? Jackhammered (partially.) Windows? Old, broken, and leaking.
You name it, this house needed it–and I wanted it! We offered them $25k cash and they accepted.
My first lesson in house flipping.
EVERYONE is out for themselves. Period.
I wish I had known, before making my offer, that the house wasn't actually "for sale by owner"–it was actually for sale by the city, who had taken possession of the property. Why would that have been good knowledge? Because the city is not emotionally invested in pieces of property (the way a person is) and I would have offered them a lower price–which they likely would have taken.
Don't get me wrong: $25k is a pretty good deal for a house, but at the end of the day, when it's my turn to try and sell it, I'd rather have spent $10k on it.
So. Lesson learned: when buying an abandoned building, find out if the city owns it.
Lesson two: court.
When you purchase a building from the city, they REALLY want to be sure that you're "on the level" and that you actually intend to do something with the property you're buying. That meant having my lawyer make multiple appearances in housing court (on my behalf) with a project plan (including our estimated timeline) and written estimates for the work to be completed.
I like my lawyer very much; she was worth the money I paid her–but this is definitely lesson number two: buying an abandoned house from the city definitely requires more legal support and more time working with city departments than buying a house that is "livable." If you're going to buy an abandoned building, make sure you build in time & budget for that stuff.
Despite all that, we closed in early August.
Our timeline? Approximately 8 months from closing to listing.
Other stuff you may be wondering
- Yes, I literally went into this knowing nothing.
- Yes, I discussed the idea with my husband, but I never "asked him" if he was okay with it.
- Yes, I bought the house outright with my own money. I own this house, for better or for worse.
- Although I absolutely consider my agent / contractor my "partner" on this project, we never signed any kind of contract outlining roles, rates, etc. It's all a leap of faith (so to speak.)
- No, I'm not worried about that.
- Are we on track? You'll have to read my next post to find out.
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