The making of “the list”

On October 13, 1999, indignant members of the Hawthorne Empowerment Coalition packed into City Council’s chambers. For six months prior, they had been at loggerheads with PHA, Uni-Penn, and their district councilman at the time, Frank DiCicco, over what they felt were wild miscommunications about the condemnation and eminent domain of their neighborhood.

A similar scene played out in the summer of 2015. Property owners in Sharswood facing condemnation made their case before the Committee of Rules, in hopes of having their properties removed from the list. The Housing Authority would cover relocation costs, and legal expenses if condemnees wanted to argue for higher compensation, but most of those seeking to undo their property’s condemnation were unsuccessful. Council ended up approving the taking of more than 1,300 properties, among which were 16 commercial properties with rental units and 57 owner-occupied residences.

The final list of properties that the PHA would seize to make way for the new Hawthorne was dramatically smaller. By the time of the Council hearing, they had trimmed the list from 231 properties down to 188, mostly to remove occupied units. But even at that scale, there was protest. The Hawthorne Empowerment Coalition had originally requested removal of 126 properties on the list. The Redevelopment Authority’s former Executive Director Noel Eisenstat agreed to strike less than half of those choices, and offer just compensation to all property owners on the final list.

Robert Latimore wasn’t alone on the chopping block.

There was Isabell McLaughlin, who had at that time lived 35 years at 1331 Catharine St. and had no interest in selling her condemned home to the city. Olivia Adams, a former member of the Hawthorne Empowerment Coalition and a property owner, said her property had been stricken from the list, but she was still fighting on behalf of remaining neighbors, particularly the Latimore family.

Her testimony was met with bursts of applause from the coalition.

“They are vacant but they are not abandoned,” Adams said of the Latimores’ properties, according to City Council records. “And that’s a distinction that needs to be made. [The property owners facing eminent domain] are the truest investors that this city will ever find. Why? Because they invested, not because of what’s going on, but in spite of what’s going on.”

But in Council’s eyes, Latimore was seen as a “multi-vacant-property owner.” Of his five properties, only the storefront was occupied at the time. Meanwhile, the project leaders had agreed to strike properties from the list that met certain criteria — properties that were currently owner-occupied, under construction, or showed progress toward rehabilitation over the next two years.

It wasn’t a rigid formula, though. Then-Councilman Jim Kenney called one property owner, Abdo Ellakany, a “slum landlord” of a blighted vacant that he had owned for 15 years. And yet the property in question, 1124 Carpenter Street, had been inexplicably removed from the condemnation list.

On paper, the Latimores’ argument looked persuasive — at least to their fellow residents. On multiple occasions, the family had shown commitment to rehabbing their properties once their financial situation improved. “It’s just a slow process for me, because finances have been slow,” said Robert Latimore, 57 at the time. Moreover, his corner store was a community landmark. Aside from a late water bill at one of the Latimores’ residential units — which he says he paid — all of their taxes and bills were up to date.

So why didn’t officials make a compromise?

During the battle over the list, Rahim Islam, CEO of Universal Community Homes and a community-developer liaison for the Hawthorne redevelopment, indicated that it was a matter of the big picture now. Latimore’s Variety was a corner property at 13th and Catharine Streets, and the city was aiming to develop all of the adjacent properties on that block.

“The goal is not to empower individuals but to empower a community,” Islam told the Inquirer before that Council hearing. “Yes, people have been holding these properties, but they haven’t been of benefit to the community.”

The next month, Latimore was hospitalized at St. Agnes Medical Center for a heart problem, which his family said was due to stress. Within a few months, the family says they learned from project developers that there wouldn’t be a two-year grace period to rehab their properties, even as some business owners with far fewer years in the neighborhood were permitted to stay.

The Redevelopment Authority told PlanPhilly that, by the end of negotiations with residents in early 2000, it condemned and seized a significantly smaller total of 119 properties to make way for the new Hawthorne. Titles on all five of Latimore’s properties were transferred to RDA in May 2000. But for the Latimores, that wasn’t the end of the battle.

First, they took picket signs into the streets. They pleaded with every politician in town. Then they sought legal counsel, as is their right in the eminent domain process. One of the family’s real estate lawyers, Mark T. Sophocles, sought to have Latimore’s commercial property revested to his name. The Redevelopment Authority told Sophocles that it wasn’t possible, as the property’s location was integral the construction plans for new housing, but relocation expenses could help the Latimores move the business.

The Latimores scoffed at the idea of relocating their store. They said that with the Redevelopment Authority’s original compensation package — about $73,000 for all five properties, plus $10,000 for relocation — they couldn’t replace what they had achieved in Hawthorne. And even if they could replace the buildings, money couldn’t buy new roots.

Fighting to bring attention to their case was difficult. A few articles in the local papers weren’t enough to sway the project leaders to change their minds. Legal counsel proved to be a headache of its own. The Latimores allege that one of the later lawyers failed to inform them of a court date in their complaint against the city.

To date, the family has not had their day before a judge.