The relationship between nonpayment of rent and eviction was anything but straightforward. Every month in the trailer park, tenants who owed more than a thousand dollars were not evicted while some who owed far less were.8 If you asked Tobin why, he would say, “You’re loyal to the people who are loyal to you. Some people we work with. Some people I wouldn’t give a single penny.” Lenny put it like this: “Depends what their excuses are.” With Larraine, Lenny and Tobin felt she was chronically behind. “Every month it’s the same thing,” Lenny said. “Ain’t got no money.” But every month it was the same thing with Britney Baker as well, and she would not be evicted.
Landlords and building managers weighed several factors when considering whether to evict a tenant. Tenants who could convince landlords that they had money coming down the pike, in the form of a tax refund, say, could avoid eviction. Tenants who fell too far behind without a clear way of getting caught up often could not. But evictions were not simply the consequence of tenants’ misbehavior or landlords’ financial accounting. Landlords showed considerable discretion over whether to move forward with an eviction, extending leniency to some and withdrawing it from others.9 How a tenant responded to an eviction notice could make the difference. Women tended not to negotiate their eviction like men did, and they were more likely to avoid landlords when they fell behind. These responses did not serve them well.
Landlords and building managers generally hated it when tenants avoided them. “Ducking and dodging,” they called it. When tenants hid from Lenny, it made him angry. “Fuck you!” he once yelled after a tenant peeked through the blinds and refused to answer her door. “You pissed me off now. You’re out in five days!”
Like many women in her situation, Larraine was ducking and dodging Tobin and Lenny. She never once told them, or even Office Susie, how she was planning on getting caught up. She never asked for a little more time. Meanwhile, Larraine’s neighbor, biker Jerry Warren, confronted Tobin and Lenny immediately, balling up his eviction notice and threatening to wreck Lenny’s face. Belligerent as it was, Jerry’s confrontational response aligned with Tobin’s blunt and brusque way. Property management was a profession dominated by men and by a gruff, masculine way of doing business. That put men like Jerry at an advantage.10
Not only did Jerry confront Tobin immediately after being served, but he later offered to pick up litter and repair some trailers if Tobin cleared his debt. Jerry had done some work for Tobin in the past, painting trailer hitches and winterizing pipes. Having proved himself a reliable hand, he had established a “working off the rent” option should money run thin. Larraine rang up social services and begged family members. Jerry went straight to the man who had initiated the eviction. And it worked: Tobin later dismissed his eviction. Larraine’s plan could work only if a local nonprofit organization, her family, or her church came through.
Men often avoided eviction by laying concrete, patching roofs, or painting rooms for landlords. But women almost never approached their landlord with a similar offer. Some women—already taxed by child care, welfare requirements, or work obligations—could not spare the time. But many others simply did not conceive of working off the rent as a possibility. When women did approach their landlords with such an offer, it sometimes involved trading sex for rent.11
The power to dictate who could stay and who must go; the power to expel or forgive: it was an old power, and it was not without caprice.12 Tobin’s decision to work with tenants could be arbitrary, his generosity unevenly dispensed. But at least you had a chance. In fact, one reason Larraine risked eviction and paid her gas bill was because other tenants had told her, speaking from experience, “Tobin’s a nice guy. Just give him a little, and he’ll work with you.”
This was why, when Tobin complied with Alderman Witkowski’s demand to hire an outside management company, the trailer park began to worry. New management would institute a new system—a cleaner, more professional, and fairer way of running the park. In other words, things were about to get much worse.
One day, a man showed up outside Lenny’s office and drilled a sign into the cinder blocks that announced: PROFESSIONALLY MANAGED BY BIECK MANAGEMENT. When an older resident saw the sign, she stepped into the office and began sobbing. “They evicted me from my last place,” she told Lenny. “They are so harsh.”
“Yeah, I hear they are ruthless,” Lenny said. “They put a whole lot of people on the streets. You know, if you can’t work with people a little bit.”
“What about you, Lenny?” the woman asked after collecting herself.
“They’re looking for a way to get rid of me, I can see that.” Lenny gestured toward the sign. “But it’s not happening. You got to have somebody around here who knows the park,” he told the woman, and himself.
—
When everyone else had said no, Ruben had come through. Larraine’s baby brother, who had found a way to lift himself into the middle class, who worked full-time for PPG Industries, had reluctantly agreed to pay Tobin. He brought the money to the trailer park himself. But Tobin refused to accept it, telling Larraine that he didn’t want the money. Tobin walked away, leaving Larraine and Ruben standing, stunned, outside of the office. Ruben put his money back in his pocket and walked slowly with Larraine back to her trailer.13
A few hours later, Larraine answered a knock at her door and found two sheriff deputies standing on her small porch. Behind them, the Eagle Moving trucks were pulling into the trailer park. It was a tight pinch for the drivers, maneuvering through the narrow entrance, minding the unleashed dogs and children, and backing up to the designated spot; but Eagle had been in Tobin’s park plenty of times. It was the last move of the day, and the crew was sore and eager to get home.14
The movers were hoping for a “junk in,” but Larraine asked that her things be taken to storage. Ruben loaded her television and computer in his car and then left to pick up his kids. The movers began filling boxes with Larraine’s things: the white utensils in the kitchen, a Christmas gift for her grandson, a necklace Glen had given her. A deputy taped an orange sign to her door.
NOTICE
You have been evicted from this property by virtue of a Court Order served by the Milwaukee County Sheriff’s Office
YOUR PRESENCE ON THIS PROPERTY WITHOUT THE EXPRESS PERMISSION OF THE LANDLORD WILL BE CONSIDERED TRESPASSING AND MAY RESULT IN YOUR ARREST (STATUTE 943.14)
Larraine asked for more time to gather some belongings. The deputy said no. Then she asked if she could retrieve some items from the truck. A mover said no, citing the company’s insurance policy.
Larraine stood outside, silently looking on. The movers carried out her chair, her washing machine, her refrigerator, stove, dining table. Next came the boxes with who knows what inside: perhaps winter jackets or shoes or shampoo. The neighbors began to gather. Some grabbed beers and positioned lawn chairs as if watching a NASCAR race.