Love's Real Stories

Answering all the real estate questions you never knew you had.

The Deal

Twenty-five billion dollars used to sound like a lot of money. But next to the trillions we’ve seen thrown around in bank bailouts, tarp funds, and mortgage scandals, it’s no surprise we barely lifted an eyebrow and had to stifle a yawn at the new National Mortgage Settlement. The government has settled with the five biggest banks for a collective fine of $25 billion as compensation for mortgage and foreclosure fraud. The money is supposed to go to homeowners who were wrongly foreclosed upon or wrongly denied loan modifications.

Depending on which politician, consumer advocate, or analyst you listen to, the deal is either a boon or a bust.

Version one, boon:

The government has finally gotten somewhere with their commitment to justice by nailing the banks for their fraudulent loan practices. This is the biggest money settlement in our nation’s history, and it’s just the beginning. The banks are also obligated to open up loan modifications in the form of principal reductions for hard-working people who are “underwater” in their homes, whose loans are more than their homes are worth. If the banks don’t play this right, they will be whacked for more fines. This will break the back of the foreclosure crisis, our economy will straighten up, and home values will rise.

Version two, bust:

The big bank boys are slapping each other on the back, lighting big cigars, and clinking their drinks together in celebration of being let off the hook once again. For the equivalent of a parking ticket in their big-buck world, they are absolved of high crimes against the people of our country. No banker has been brought to justice in this scandal, and they have just been given a new “Get Out of Jail-Free” card. Now with no fear of lawsuits they will drop the hammer on foreclosures they’ve been stalling, which will further depress home values.

Twenty-five billion is a big number. Get out the calculator and start dividing. Please, let’s figure out who gets how much, and if it will make a difference.

No yawning.

Downtown

Secrets live in the basements and attics of old brick buildings in downtown Chico and Oroville. One man knows of a few, sealed off and abandoned in dark dusty rooms, untouched and unseen for decades. Jim, the Inspector, is hired by buyers of houses and buildings to check for problems with wires, pipes, wood, concrete; all things structural. He owns a reputation of thoroughness. Jim took to heart his mentor’s words: “People pay us to do this job. If we can get there, we go. It’s where we find the big stuff, where people don’t go.”

Jim finished inspecting the main floor and second story of an old downtown building, and asked the owner where he could find access to the basement. “We don’t have a basement,” said the owner. Jim knew better. He was sure the whole block stood over basement area. He went below adjoining buildings and found old openings into the basement in question, sealed shut with brick and concrete.

Jim patrolled the outside perimeter of the building, then searched the interior again, and found no sign or clue of any door, hatch, or secret panel. But it had to be there. Jim focused on a back room on the main level that had a section of floor covered with pre-war linoleum, a likely spot for an access door. Buried under that linoleum, perhaps? Jim told the owner of his hypothesis.

“Well, now I’m curious,” said the owner. He produced a flat-bar and hammer, and chipped up the old linoleum straightaway. There it was, a hinged square hatch-cover cut in to the thick sub-flooring. The hatch-cover lifted smoothly, exposing a narrow iron circular stairway spiraling into the darkness below. Jim descended, and came upon a half-circular bar and eight bar stools.

“It was as if they had just left,” said Jim, “I could picture the scene in my mind.” Women in flapper dresses and pearls, men in zoot suits and spats, laughing and drinking illegal booze in their private prohibition-era Speakeasy.

“Where is this treasure?” one might ask. Jim’s answer would be, “Somewhere beneath an old building in the Northern Sacramento Valley.”

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