It was a handwritten and photocopied business card. At the top of the card was an illustrated symbol and a title - “The Gay Dungeon.” Underneath was the unbelievably crude statement - “Sexy 12-year-old native boys for sale. See pimp. Ted.” And below it referred to the main floor suite of a local rooming house.
It was difficult to distinguish between revulsion and anger. This was beyond any controversy about homosexuality. This was about criminal pedophilia. I knew this stuff happens, but I didn't want to believe anyone could be so crass. A visit to the place led to a heated argument with "Ted." Eventually, CFS and police visits resulted in the removal of the “tenant.”
I was concerned by the lack of the landlord's response to community complaints. Needless to say, we kept a much closer eye on the house.
It became evident that the tenants on the main floor had changed. But problems continued.
“Ted” was replaced by a busy drug dealership. Doing brisk business at all hours of day and night, they drew the attention and ire of neighbours up and down the street. Fruitless complaints to the landlord were followed by costly investigations by police, an eventual raid, and the removal of tenants.
After that raid, we had some hope that things would quiet down on the street. But it was tough to have confidence in the landlord. He either had horrible judgment in tenants or just didn’t care about his neighbours.
It didn't take more than a few weeks to realize that he had rented the main floor suite to a sniff dealer. The dealer lived on the main floor, selling the solvent soaked rags or bottles of non-pottable substances to people coming to the back door.
When that income wasn't enough, they decided to sublet the basement. For a small fee, they bunked their more valued customers on mattresses or boxsprings found in back lanes. Some slept on blankets on the moist, cracked concrete basement floor. Inadequate toilet facilities for their “hotel” explained the stench throughout the house.
We figured we'd talk to the landlord. His response was, “If you have a problem, don't come to me. Go to the cops. It's none of my business!”
I said, “Let's review what's happening. It's your house. You decide who gets to rent from you. The neighbours up and down the street are complaining. The cops and fire department are regularly called to the premises. You know there's problems with the tenants, and you have power to do something about it.” There was no response.
To the neighbours the reality seemed pretty plain. Either this landlord was the most naďve person on the face of the earth or, in his greed, he was content to grab whatever cheque he could from social assistance – which, incidentally, funded the tenancy of each of the troublemakers mentioned above.
There were code violations throughout the house. I couldn't understand how inspectors get so picky with us, while letting guys like this get away with the spaghetti that passed for wiring and obviously rotten plumbing. It was no great surprise to neighbours when a fire in that residence culminated in death of a tenant.
If those walls could talk, they would scream of unimaginable abuse and neglect.
I would guess that there are about 20 – 30 such landlords in our neighbourhood. Most landlords are good, and will do their best to respond to community complaints.
Not every absentee landlord is a slum landlord, and not every poor tenant is a slum tenant.
But landlords like this beg certain questions. At what point does absence and naivete translate to negligence? At what point does negligence translate to collusion?
Another landlord called me this week. For years, he’s run a rooming house infested with drug dealing and prostitution. Now, thanks to some heat from cops, he’s tells me he’s looking for good tenants.
Here’s my dilemma. Do I trust him? If I send him a good tenant, will he allow other trouble makers into the other suites in his house? Will he once again mock our concern until the cops crack down on him? I know if he doesn’t fix up his dump of a rooming house, he won’t get or keep many good tenants anyway.
I decided to be honest with the guy. I returned his call and left a message confessing my lack of confidence in him. If he’s willing to confess his naivete, negligence and collusion, we’ll talk some more and maybe work toward a solution.
Rev. Harry Lehotsky
514 Maryland Street
Winnipeg, Mb R3G 1M5
(204) 775-4929
lehotsky@escape.ca