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Recently my husband and I decided to buy a beautiful old home in the Skinker-DeBaliviere area.
Since the owners did not wish to go FHA, we decided, blissfully and confidently, to get conventional financing, ignoring the warnings of our real estate agent. After all, we countered, our credit rating is excellent — no outstanding debts and my husband had held a job for eight years with a local newspaper. How could we, model citizens, be refused? "They'll get you on the address of the house without ever getting to your credit rating," our jaded real estate agent, warned.
"Nonsense," I replied, "I'll rely on the basic greed of the American enterprise system. After all, they're in the business of making money."
Initial contact with a savings and loan company was all smiles and cooperation. I described in detail where the house was located. No problem. Just come down and apply for the loan. "See," I said smugly, "Greed wins over all."
The first thing we learned was that you couldn't get a 25 year loan in the city. Two blocks over in University City you might, just might, be able to get a 20 year loan. Clayton? There — it's even 30 years. (University City, you see, is dangerously integrated.) On this side of Skinker, however, all you can get is 15 years. We're twice as integrated as U. City and therefore twice as risky.
"Never mind," my husband said, "we'd just pay the loan off quicker." We settled back and waited for approval.
After a week, we learned to our astonishment that the loan had been refused on the basis of the age and location of the house. The real estate agent made the savings and loan vice president repeat the reason for refusal twice.
Among other unprintables my husband yelled, "prejudice." The age of the house was 70. Yet a report made for us by a registered engineer (cost $50) listed the overall condition of the house as excellent except for the electrical system which we had already made arrangements to replace. The location! What did this have to do with the price of tea in China? We called our trusty alderman.
He called the bank president. Seems they had their stories crossed. The president mumbled something about putting more down than 20 per cent. The bank president personally visited our dangerous neighborhood. A Post-Dispatch reporter called the company and hinted at an investigation.
Then without any explanation, we received word that the loan had been accepted. I mentally added political pressure to my greed theory.
It was four days before we finally got the loan papers — our contract on the house had only two weeks to go (my nerves had only a week).
The loan papers revealed that the ordeal was just beginning. The loan was conditional upon inspection and approval of the city building department. In other words, the house had to meet city code requirements. Neither of the two real estate companies involved in the sale had seen such a requirement on a loan in the city. Yet it was legal. We would also have to pay for some expensive mortgage insurance — another unusual move for an 80 per cent loan.
A call to the vice president of the savings and loan company revealed the depth of bitterness the company felt at having to issue the small loan. It also revealed the extreme popularity of our alderman with the savings and loan companies. He was referred to as "that certain someone in our conversation." I was shocked at the nastiness of the executive, I mentally added pettiness to my greed and political pressure theory. I also made a mental note to vote for our alderman next time around. A man so hated by such hateful people cannot be all bad.
Meanwhile all the work on the house had to be done in two weeks — enough to give anyone who has had any experience with housing contractors an instant ulcer. The owners would not pay for the work, since they had already given us a very good price on the house. So we agreed to sink a $1000 into a house we didn't yet own. The work on the house was barely completed before the contract ran out. We got the house.
Sound like a happy ending? Closing scene — sunset, happy couple on steps of lovely old Victorian house. Never believe it. Because as long as the savings and loan companies of our cities continue their flagrant discrimination against city property, none of us is safe. Our property values are as shot as the moral values of these loan companies.
I did not name the loan company, because there are more than one involved in this vicious conspiracy. We intend to run the names of the companies involved as soon as their names are published in the aldermanic hearings (chaired by "certain someone") and soon to be conducted. When their names are known, we want to urge a city-wide economic boycott of those companies. Nothing less than the glare of publicity and public wrath will change their policies.
How many people they have discouraged from buying in the city we cannot know. It's like the practices of the real estate agents who say: "You don't want to live there. Here, spend twice as much money for a house half as nice in the 'safe' county." It's enough to give the rather remote term "institutalized racism" meaning because that's what it all feeds on. Blacks move in, whites move out. Real estate speculators make big profits. Property values plument. Loan companies make bigger loans, more money! and I add racist to my greed theory.
P.S. It's all enough to make the savings and loan robber, Cochran, a folk hero, in my book.
Original newspaper source
Originally published in The Paper, November 1971.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
