Joseph da Silva’s tiny furnished room at the Inglewood Arms is packed with things other people have discarded.

Plastic packing crates crammed with dry goods from the food bank climb to the ceiling. A microwave, old desktop computer, flat-screen TV, bicycle, and shelves heaving with classical music CDs and books are among his many found treasures.

“I have what I need,” says da Silva, 62, who has autism and fell on hard times about a decade ago after a divorce and mental breakdown. “Torontonians are very generous in what they throw away.”

The soft-spoken and articulate former chartered accountant moved into the 88-unit Jarvis Street rooming house almost 11 years ago and is loath to leave.

“I have lived in this area for 20 years. This is my home,” he says as he shows a reporter around his 200-square-foot room overlooking Jarvis.

Minto Communities Canada has other plans. It is proposing to tear down the rambling three-storey white-brick building north of Dundas Street East, and replace it with a 36-storey condominium, meaning da Silva and as many as 100 of his fellow tenants, whose monthly rents range from $800 to $1,000, may be forced out.

And new city rules passed last June to protect Toronto’s dwindling stock of rooming houses — and their vulnerable, low-income tenants — may not be enough to help them.

That is because Minto and six other land owners have launched an appeal before the Local Planning Appeal Tribunal (LPAT), the body that recently replaced the Ontario Municipal Board. And until the appeal is decided — a process that could take another year or more — the new protections remain in limbo.

Known as Official Plan Amendment 453, the new rules require developers to replace lost “dwelling room” space at similar rents in, or near, the new development. During construction, they have to provide displaced tenants with equally priced accommodation, and they must grant them the right to occupy the new replacement units.

Minto and the other land owners argue the amendment discourages the construction of a range of new housing options in the city and contravenes provincial planning policies. The University of Toronto, which says its student residences have been “inappropriately” caught by the new rules, makes similar arguments.

There are about 350 licensed rooming houses in Toronto with a total of almost 4,000 rooms. With more than 200 units currently at risk of disappearing due to redevelopment, the city says the planning amendment is needed to protect this source of affordable housing. (The amendment would have no impact on the thousands of unlicensed units.)

If upheld by the appeal tribunal, the amendment would close a loophole and give low-income tenants living in rooming houses with six or more units the same protections as other tenants when properties are redeveloped, the city adds.

Complicating matters is that the Inglewood Arms’ landlord insists his licensed rooming house is actually a hotel and not subject to the provincial Residential Tenancies Act, which protects tenants from arbitrary rent hikes and evictions.

“By making this argument, we believe the landlord is trying to get rid of us cheaply,” says da Silva, who is appearing before the Landlord and Tenant Board in March to “reassert” residents’ rights as tenants.

Da Silva has also won standing to participate in the developers’ appeal of the city’s new rooming house protections on behalf of himself and all rooming house tenants.

“If (the new rules) do not apply to the Inglewood Arms — the largest rooming house in the city — then to whom do they apply?” he asks.

Neighbourhood Legal Services, a community legal clinic, and the Ontario Coalition Against Poverty, a grassroots advocacy group, are supporting da Silva and his fellow tenants in their fight.

Rooming houses, which are among the city’s most affordable private market housing, are “low-hanging fruit for developers,” says da Silva, who relies on monthly Ontario Disability Support Program benefits of about $1,500 and pays $925 a month for his third-floor room. He shares a toilet and shower with about seven others in the building. There are two communal kitchens.

Tenants are being “tossed out in the hundreds, often illegally and often ending up on the street,” he says.

“We deserve better. We believe the city deserves better. Everyone will be better off if the poor and disenfranchised are integrated, rather than demonized and excluded and expelled,” he adds. “Integrating us into new developments will create a better mosaic.”

Although Minto has an interest in Inglewood Arms, it does not currently own or manage the property and is playing no part in the tenants’ case at the Landlord and Tenant Board, the company says in a statement to the Star.

Even if it loses its appeal before the local planning board, Minto says its development application predates city council’s approval of the new rooming house protections and therefore would not be bound by them.

“Having said that, Minto Communities is in settlement discussions with the city and is prepared to compensate any existing long-term occupants of the Inglewood Arms Hotel in excess of what the law currently requires, subject to city and LPAT (Local Planning Appeal Tribunal) approval at a later date,” the statement reads.

“Those discussions are confidential until they are finalized,” it adds.

Ellen Leesti, a spokeswoman for the city, says it is too early to say what will happen.

Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading...

“If and/or how (the new rules) will come into effect, including any questions about applications predating city council’s decision, will be dependant on the outcome of the LPAT proceedings,” Leesti says in an email.

Landlord Allen Mernick, 73, who has owned the Inglewood Arms for almost 40 years, says he runs the property as an extended-stay hotel and that he has a 20-year-old provincial ruling confirming that status.

“But that’s going to be decided (at the Landlord and Tenant Board) in March,” he says. “Either way, we treat the people who live here well. There isn’t one vacancy today.”

Tenants don’t have to worry about becoming homeless because Minto is prepared to pay them “a substantial stipend” and is willing to hire any non-profit housing provider the city suggests to find them alternate housing, he says.

“Housing insecurity is a terrible thing to experience. We understand that,” he adds.

If the deal falls through, Mernick says he’s happy to continue operating the Inglewood Arms forever.

“I don’t have to sell this to Minto,” he says. “My kids will run it. They grew up in this business. Nobody is in jeopardy of ending up in a dumpster.”

But tenant Oksana Bojczuk, 49, says she has been through this before and doesn’t trust anyone.

The former provincial government secretary says she was lucky to find a room at the Inglewood Arms when her old rooming house — the Residence College Hotel on Gerrard Street West — was demolished by the University Health Network and replaced with a parking lot.

“We were threatened and forced to sign legal documents. They gave us three months rent, but I had no place to go,” she says. “I don’t want that to happen here.”

Bojczuk, who struggles to live on the proceeds of a settlement she received when she lost her job in 2006, pays $1,000-a-month for one of the few rooms that has a toilet and shower.

“Everybody here is worried about what is going to happen to us.”

Area Councillor Kristyn Wong-Tam supports the residents’ quest to be covered by the Residential Tenancies Act and has urged Minto to build affordable housing on the site instead of condos.

“If Minto wins their appeal, it will be a signal to developers that they can evict rooming house tenants, without consequence, and replace our most deeply affordable housing with luxury condos,” she said in a tweet last Monday.

“I unequivocally stand behind the city’s legal team as they fight to preserve the city’s policies and protect vulnerable tenants,” she added. “My sincere hope (is) that the tribunal will ultimately favour the human right to affordable housing, over profit for a wealthy developer.”

Many tenants of the Inglewood Arms are ill or disabled, and are afraid, says da Silva. They range in age from 30 to over 60 and come from all walks of life.

For example, Da Silva moved to Toronto from South Africa in the late 1980s and worked for IBM, Nortel and some of the city’s largest financial institutions.

“But that’s all gone now,” he says, explaining how his paranoia, anxiety and other mental illnesses have made him unemployable.

Despite a recent diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease, he has overcome his “terror” of speaking out.

“I don’t do this just for myself,” he says. “I don’t want any money. I just want a home.”