Sunday, Nov. 29, 1998 | 9:32 a.m.
Lisa Hunt moved into her condominium in July believing she had found her tiny corner of suburban utopia. Three bedrooms and two bathrooms, plus plenty of lounging space for her two teenage children. Better still, the $725 monthly rent fit cozily into the family budget. Welcome home, she thought.
Then the eviction notice arrived last month.
"This is insane to me," Hunt fumed. "I've done nothing wrong."
Not according to the Laguna Del Rey Homeowners Association, which governs the condo complex. The group has charged Hunt and her children with breaching its covenants, conditions and regulations -- CC&Rs, in association-speak -- on numerous occasions.
The alleged offenses range from mildly serious to downright trivial. The association has cited Hunt for a couple of bent window blinds and for feeding ducks that gather at the complex's man-made ponds. She and her children -- Jennifer Kyle, 15, and Morgan Kyle, 18 -- have been accused of walking into the complex by forcing open its exit gate. Other residents have complained that her kids skateboard through the community, according to the association.
Hunt, 47, denies all but two of the charges. She admits to tossing bread crumbs to the ducks and to once slipping through the gate -- only because it was ajar, she said. Hunt maintains that the window blinds already were damaged when she moved in, and that Jennifer and Morgan have scolded other kids skateboarding through Laguna Del Rey because they feared getting the blame.
The association sent warning letters to Hunt, a unit secretary at University Medical Center, starting in late September. She ignored the notices, convinced of her innocence and unaware of the influence wielded by associations. The gravity of the complaints hit only when Oishi Property Management, which screens prospective Laguna Del Rey tenants, slapped Hunt with a 30-day eviction notice in mid-October.
Carol Crawley, Oishi's senior property manager, said the condo unit's owners, Gwen and Henry Chun, quickly tired of the association's warnings. Concerned that the group would penalize them for the alleged actions of their tenant, the Chuns, who live in Hawaii, wanted the problem to go away, Crawley said. That prompted the eviction notice, leaving Hunt to look for a new home.
But Crawley asserted that the entire ugly episode could have been avoided if Eugene Burger Management of Nevada, the company that oversees Laguna Del Rey's association, had taken a more conciliatory approach. Instead, she said, Burger officials were "not very cooperative" when discussing Hunt's options and indicated that fighting the charges "wasn't going to make a difference." Crawley suggested to Hunt that she consider moving out, sensing that the association would continue hounding her even if the dispute were resolved.
Sympathetic to Hunt, Crawley has allowed her to stay at the condo through Monday, even though she was ordered to clear out Nov. 14. Crawley also has told Hunt she would try to find her a unit at another Oishi complex in the vicinity of Laguna Del Rey, 5000 Red Rock St.
Hunt remains stupefied that a homeowners association could stir so much grief over window blinds and ducks. Furious at what she called the association's "campaign to get rid of me," Hunt now worries that the stain of eviction on her renter's record will come back to haunt her.
"This is totally wrong," she said. "They don't have a right to do this to us. We're being accused of things we haven't done."
Personal fiefdoms
Hunt's frustration speaks to a twin dilemma in Las Vegas and across Nevada: the absence of tenants' rights and the sometimes rabid tactics of home and condo associations despite a state law passed last year designed to defang them.
Renters who choose to rent a house or condo within an association risk enduring the worst of both worlds. If they owned the home, the threat of eviction would vanish, although an association can put liens on houses and condos. If they lived outside an association, their feeding of ducks would go unnoticed. And unpunished.
Renters of all stripes lead something of a vassal's existence in Nevada, exposed to what Assemblyman David Goldwater portrayed as perhaps the most tenant-hostile laws in the country. The Las Vegas Democrat, who has watched his proposal for a "Tenants' Bill of Rights" be shot down the last two legislative sessions, contends that too many landlords treat apartment and condo complexes as their own personal fiefdom.
"The root of the problem is that landlords act like they can do anything -- because they can," Goldwater said.
State law historically has tilted in favor of landlords for the simple reason that until 20 years ago, Nevada transplants stayed only a few months before bolting. Yet as the state -- and particularly Las Vegas, with its 120,000 apartments -- has evolved from a transient way station to a place people happily call home sweet home, its tenant laws appear reminiscent of the frontier.
Take the Legislature's refusal to abolish no-cause evictions, which give landlords the power to boot tenants in 30 days without justification. Despite families kicked out of their apartments for paying rent a day late -- the kind of horror story Goldwater hears every week -- support is scarce for outlawing no-cause evictions.
The explanation: Renters remain a politically impotent bloc, too busy with everyday life to fret about legislative policy -- as evidenced by the lack of a renters' rights group in Southern Nevada. Meanwhile, real estate agents and apartment associations, both of which argue that no-cause evictions help landlords sweep out drug dealers, gang members and other problem tenants, boast finely honed lobbying muscle in Carson City.
Undeterred, Goldwater has drafted another initiative for the upcoming Legislature that would require landlords to inform renters as to why they're getting tossed. The bill would prevent security deposits from exceeding the equivalent of three months' rent and would permit tenants to withhold rent if a landlord denied them water, electricity or other basic services.
It's hardly a Renters' Emancipation Proclamation. But at the very least, Goldwater said, the eviction clause would compel landlords to offer a concrete rationale for bouncing someone, which in turn would hand tenants more leverage if they decided to sue. The specter of litigation also might encourage landlords to think twice about changing the locks on a renter.
Even that modest reform would be applauded, said Marshall Schultz, who mans the Nevada Renters Hotline from his home in Reno, dispensing advice to tenants and landlords alike.
"It's past time that Nevada legislators took a good, hard look at what's going on and at their own 19th-century attitudes," Schultz said. "Nevada tenants of all kinds need a little more access to the law."
Gaining a voice
In their defense, landlords can tell scores of tales about legitimate evictions triggered by tenants bailing on rent. Moreover, renters may learn the hard way that a landlord, no matter how ornery, is preferable to dealing with a home or condo association.
Roberta Feldman and her husband own a condo that her sister, Mara Serota, 34, moved into two years ago. The trouble began soon thereafter for Serota, who because of a learning disability has the mental capacity of a 12-year-old.
Within five months, the condo's association board cited Serota nearly 50 times for allegedly breaking its CC&Rs. Among the offenses were that the walker she used to get around while recovering from hip-replacement surgery made too much noise as it scraped across her kitchen tile. Fed up, Serota eventually moved out.
Other renters in the complex have faced similar hassles, Feldman said. She described an incident in which a woman backed her car into a parking space -- a forbidden act under association rules -- so her boyfriend could work on the engine. She turned the car around after he finished a half-hour later, figuring that would preempt any complaints. The next morning she discovered the vehicle had been towed away.
Earlier this year Feldman and two other condo owners in the complex launched successful bids to unseat three members of the association's board. The trio intends to overhaul the group's CC&Rs, but Feldman still seethes at what she regards as wanton prejudice against tenants by associations.
"Renters have no rights," she said. "These people (board members) think renters are second-class citizens just because they don't own the place. They are treated like garbage."
Rising above that status could occur even if the tenants' rights bill dies again next year. State Sen. Mike Schneider, D-Las Vegas, wants to bolster Senate Bill 314, the so-called "Homeowners Bill of Rights" approved by the Legislature in 1997, a move that could bear residual relief for tenants.
SB314 sprouted from complaints that the 800 home and condo associations statewide were off their leash, with boards brazenly foreclosing on homes and levying hefty fines for marginal infractions such as unkempt lawns. The law, an attempt to bring associations to heel, restricts fines to $50 and prohibits boards from brandishing eminent domain. The measure also has made it easier for disgruntled residents to oust board members.
Much of that newfound grass-roots strength has come through the ombudsman's office in the Nevada Real Estate Division, a position created under SB314. Since Mary Lynn Ashworth, a former business analyst with the city of Las Vegas, settled into the ombudsman's chair in July, she has received 500 calls a month on association issues.
Peccole Ranch resident Ted Samuels has phoned more than once. During the past year, his association board repeatedly spurned his requests to view copies of its financial records -- a violation of state law.
Samuels got nowhere with the board or its attorney before the ombudsman position was created. After Ashworth became involved this summer, the lawyer agreed to sit down with Samuels and Schneider, provided some of the Peccole Ranch records and vowed to turn over the rest within three weeks of their visit.
Yet while praising Ashworth's efforts, Samuels added, "She needs the Legislature to give her some more power. They need to provide her with more help."
Beyond enlisting the pull of lawmakers and the Attorney General's office, the ombudsman has no genuine authority in association clashes. Residents upset with a board can try to settle matters through the state's alternative dispute-resolution process. But ADR, as it's known, is expensive -- hiring an arbitrator will run as high as $1,000 -- and ultimately yields a decision that the losing party is under no legal obligation to follow. That leaves going to court, an even costlier option.
Schneider, author of SB314, would like to sharpen the law's teeth by establishing an enforcement committee through the ombudsman's office. The three-person board would consist of a hearing officer and two homeowners who would meet once a week to mediate association squabbles at a cost of no more than $50 a case.
Failure to comply with the committee decision could result in various penalties, from fines assessed to an individual board member or tenant to restrictions on an association's nonprofit status.
Aside from an obvious boost to home and condo owners, the committee potentially could help renters. Schneider may include a provision in his proposal that would enable home and condo owners to authorize a property manager or tenant to serve as their proxy before the committee. Renters would then have recourse when targeted by associations, he said.
"There needs to be some real due process in there for owners as well as tenants. ... Otherwise it's like Nazi Germany," said Schneider, who will seek to amend SB314 to include all home and condo associations. Only those that charge annual membership dues of $500 or more must now abide by the law.
Gaining a voice while avoiding litigation would reassure renters such as Hunt, who have made the painful discovery that perhaps the only thing worse than crimes against humanity are alleged crimes against a homeowners association.
"I don't have the time and money to sue," she said. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life in court just because I want to live here through July (of) next year."
Quality of life
Without associations keeping unruly residents in check, the Las Vegas Valley might resemble South Chicago. As such, Schneider will lobby the Legislature to double the fines that associations can dish out to $100.
At the same time, he noted, associations should base penalties on "some sort of evidence besides hearsay." Amen, Crawley said.
"I would be willing to bet every complaint (against Hunt) came from someone who didn't have anything better to do than find somebody doing something wrong in the subdivision," she said.
The Laguna Del Rey homeowners association reports to Nick Damian, property manager for Eugene Burger Management, who said one complaint against a resident is insufficient cause for a warning letter. Three or four people called to grouse about Hunt and her children, he said.
Damian conceded the pettiness of some of the charges against Hunt. But he insisted that children skateboarding in the complex pose a danger to pedestrians, and that people pushing open the exit gate forced the association to replace it at a cost of $5,000.
Even something as nominal as damaged window blinds affect the quality of life of other residents, Damian said.
"It's a minor thing, but when you're sitting there looking out your window and the guy across the way has tattered blinds and you can see right inside (as) he's running around in his BVDs, then you have a problem with those minor things," Damian said.
A board meeting scheduled for Monday afternoon will offer Hunt a chance to present her defense and determine whether the association will levy a fine, Damian said. Although Crawley said Damian has told her that Hunt's guilt is a foregone conclusion, he denied making the comment.
"I've never said anything like that, nor have I ever implied that," he said.
Damian correctly pointed out that the association and Burger Management have no ability to evict tenants. But Crawley countered that association boards and management companies often jump-start the process by overzealously applying CC&Rs.
Because warning notices land in the lap of condo owners -- especially those such as the Chuns who live out of state -- they become skittish about what action the board may take. Fearing fines or, worse, liens on their property, owners end the uncertainty by asking renters to pack up. (The Chuns declined to comment for this story.)
"Associations shouldn't be able to just make up these rules," Crawley said. "The person accused should be able to make a defense and then have a decision based on that."
As always, the truth in such controversies lies somewhere in that hazy realm known as "he said, she said." Less ambiguous is that whatever the outcome of Monday's meeting, Hunt feels betrayed. Her bitterness has deepened to include Oishi officials, who she said have done little to help her locate a condo at another of their properties, contrary to Crawley's pledge of assistance.
And no matter whether she receives a stay of eviction, Hunt said her first time living under a homeowners association will be her last.
"These people are wrecking my life," she said. "I don't ever want to go through this again."
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