Pat Kyrilov's apartment is a bit of a mess these days,
a confusion of cardboard boxes, kitchen utensils and furniture,
plus a couple decades' worth of letters, papers, photographs,
certificates and tax returns. In two weeks, the 62-year-old
will be forced to clear out--or the sheriff's deputies
will be pounding on her door.
Crippled by arthritis, Kyrilov gets around on an electric
scooter. For the last 15 years, she has lived on a fixed
income at the stately Rosefriend Apartments, at the
corner of Southwest Broadway and Jefferson Street.
She is being evicted because her landlord, the First
Christian Church, wants to renovate her $495-per-month
apartment and rent it at a higher rate. No one will
say how much Kyrilov's apartment will eventually rent
for, but others in the building run as high as $600
per month.
"Moving out, after you've been living somewhere for
15 years, you just accumulate so much stuff," Kyrilov
sighs as she hunts for some sugar for a visitor's tea.
"I'm really in a state of panic."
It gets worse: Earlier this week, Kyrilov learned that
the church, which is adjacent to the Rosefriend, is
demanding she pay its legal costs--$10,932.50--for evicting
her.
Kyrilov's plight is all the more disturbing because
the church originally bought and refurbished the 60-unit
building in 1977 with help from the federal Department
of Housing and Urban Development to provide housing
for low-income seniors.
But the legal requirements on the apartments elapsed
years ago, and the building's management now appears
more interested in renovating units than in taking care
of the elderly.
Until recently, the management updated apartments as
they became vacant. But with just a dozen units left
to go, it switched to a strategy of eviction, starting
with Kyrilov. The next targets for remodeling include
the apartments of a 91-year-old retired social worker
and an 81-year-old nun.
The remaining elderly tenants' reactions range from
dread to disbelief.
"We can hardly believe that we're going to be put out,"
says Sister Mary Chewning, who has lived at Rosefriend
more than 20 years, caring for its elderly residents.
Some senior residents, their voices quaking with anxiety,
declined to be quoted for this article lest they be
singled out as troublemakers.
Church representatives deny that the renovation plans
are anything less than charitable. "It's an old building
that needs to be renovated, and that's what they're
doing," says the church's attorney, Mark Passannante.
"It's an apartment building, not a rest home."
Passannante disputes the suggestion that Kyrilov's
eviction is at odds with the church's ideals, arguing
that the units are badly in need of repair. But Kyrilov's
apartment certainly doesn't look too run down.
Kyrilov, who suffers from diabetes and depression,
put up a spirited defense. With the help of Legal Aid
attorney Ed Johnson, she fought her eviction in court
and managed to drag the proceedings out over three months.
But earlier this month, Judge Clifford Freeman of Multnomah
County Circuit Court ruled that the church was perfectly
within its rights to evict her--despite a doctor's letter
noting that evicting Kyrilov would pose "significant
health risks."
Kyrilov tried to work out a deal. She asked if the
renovations could be postponed, if the work could be
done without removing her or if she could be transferred
to another apartment at the Rosefriend. But the church
remained steadfast--although it did give her extra time
and one month's free rent.
For impoverished elderly people, shifting location
can be traumatic -- and with the shortage of affordable
housing downtown, many have nowhere to go.
Housing advocates are puzzled by the church's tactics.
Indeed, the church itself is in transition: Its longtime
pastor, the Rev. Wayne Bryant, just retired and his
interim successor had no knowledge of the situation.
But the church's actions may be partly explained by
its hiring of prominent property-management consultant
Sharon Fleming-Barrett, who enjoys a reputation as a
zealous landlords' advocate. Her firm, Executive Property
Management, runs ads proclaiming: "We can TERMINATE
your Problem Tenancy!"
Whatever the reason, the management seems determined
to press ahead with the renovations. On Sunday, Aug.
1, as the congregation next door raises its voice to
heaven, Kyrilov's scooter will be navigating her apartment
for the last time, and her neighbors will be wondering
who's next.
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Willamette Week | originally
published July 21, 1999
