Luring Foreclosure Buyers on Detroit's 'Lonely Homes' Tour

On a recent Sunday afternoon, Joy Santiago, a real estate agent, stood atop the front steps of a vacant, eight-bedroom colonial-style mansion, bullhorn in hand. "Alright, 10 minutes," she declared, ushering in the 50 or so people on the Lonely Homes Tour, an aggressive effort to sell foreclosed properties in one of Detroit's last solidly middle-class neighborhoods. (See pictures of the Lonely Homes Tour.)

Those grimmest aspects of Detroit city life are just a few blocks from Indian Village, where the Lonely Homes Tour took place on a recent Sunday. For decades, the neighborhood managed to defy that fate. It was carved in the late-1800s, barely three miles from Detroit's downtown, as an enclave for the city's emerging industrial barons. Even as Detroit's wealth moved further into the city's suburbs in the wake of World War II, Indian Village's Tudor- and Georgian-style homes — many with large back yards and carriage houses — attracted politically connected, white-collar professionals.

But not even the neighborhood's lawyers, judges, principals and auto-industry executives have been immune to the economic crisis battering Michigan, the state saddled with America's highest unemployment rate. Some have lost their homes. Some who've left have been unwilling to lower their home's prices. At the same time, banks have become more discerning in issuing mortgages to prospective buyers. By one estimate, about 15% of the 350 homes that comprise Indian Village are foreclosed. (See pictures of the remains of Detroit.)

Residents have taken various steps to prevent vacant properties from becoming magnets for criminals: Regularly mowing lawns, installing curtains, or even baby monitors. Detroit's crime, failing schools and the shortage of supermarkets selling fresh, reasonably priced fruits, vegetables and meats have been barriers to attracting the kind of professionals that have transformed other once struggling cities. One longtime resident, Steve Wasko, recalls real estate agents dismissing Indian Village, saying, "We don't have time to come 'down there,' like 'down there' is crossing some line you never travel without a passport." Some agents, Wasko says, simply gave the keys and alarm codes of homes to prospective buyers without bothering to vet their backgrounds. "That's like giving the goods to potential thieves," he says.

Last year, a group of Indian Village residents launched a search for a real estate agent who would commit to the neighborhood. They soon found Santiago. She'd left Ann Arbor, Mich., for Detroit in the late-1980s to work as a booking agent for techno music DJs. By the late-1990s, she'd become a real estate agent, and frequently worked in Indian Village. The timing was good back then: In her first year, Santiago says she sold one house a week. "Everyone had a job, everyone wanted to have the American dream — homeownership," the 41-year-old says. (See The Detroit Blog's coverage of the city.)

One of Santiago's first marketing ideas was what she christened the Lonely Homes Tour. The first tour, in September 2008, drew car loads of prospective buyers. More importantly, it generated considerable buzz about Indian Village's mansions. The next installment came last month. Residents lined the leafy streets leading up to Indian Village with ads promoting the tour. Of course, they also touted the event on Facebook.

And lo and behold, there wasn't a single empty seat on the two tours' busses. A caravan followed Santiago to each of the seven stops. At one point, the caravan rolled up to a sturdy, four-bedroom, 2,400-square-foot colonial built in 1925, that's priced at $39,000. Then came the tour's most expensive home: an eight-bedroom, 8,500-square-foot 1917 colonial. The price: $189,000. One woman covered her nose to keep the smell of mildew away. Her husband carefully took notes about the cracked wooden floors. People looked in awe inside the elevator of one house. Santiago stood by, answering questions about the house's history and its original owners, handing out business cards to the young and middle-aged professionals from the suburbs or downtown condos looking to trade up to bigger home at a bargain. (See pictures of a day in the life of Detroit's Mayor Bing.)

So far, Indian Village residents seem satisfied. Wasko says: "If I were a real estate agent, I'd act like Joy: I'd work my butt off on Sunday afternoon, and not roll my eyes and say, 'maybe this won't get the sale.'"

That effort just might be paying off. One day after the tours, Santiago says she had gotten several calls for second showings. About six people from the Lonely Homes Tours have made offers. "People heard about Indian Village, but without an event like this," Santiago says, "they wouldn't have made it."