Welcome to one more Monday of a story for the Thursday Doors Writing Challenge and a collection of photos for Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge. Cee’s prompt for this week has been Farm Animals. I’ll have to poke around in the archives. Since today is Memorial Day in the U.S., I’ve included a few photos for that holiday. If you want to jump to the gallery, instead of wading through my story, click here.
As for the writing challenge, I was inspired by a photo from Wayne at WrookieSchU. I was also inspired by a writer who has been inspiring me since I was about 7 years old. Rod Serling, creator of The Twilight Zone has always been a favorite author. The story I’m sharing today is a small tribute to Mr. Serling. Those of you who remember the Twilight Zone episode ‘The Night of the Meek‘ might recognize some of the names in my story. Also, if you like that episode as much as I do, I recommend reading a post about that from the premiere Twilight Zone website, Shadow and Substance.
Welcome Home
Susan Florence, Mayor of the City of Meekan, Ohio called the special meeting to order and asked everyone to please take their seats. “The matter before us tonight is the permit requested by Mitchel Serling, of Serling and Sons Construction for the parcel identified as Two-Eleven, Main Street. Mr. Serling, for the record, would you please describe your plans for this building.”
Mitchel walked over to a flip chart he had brought for his presentation. “Madam Mayor, if I may start with a brief history of the building that is the subject of this meeting.”
Susan Florence interrupted. “We are all familiar with the eyesore at two-eleven Main St, Mr. Serling. Since you’re familiar with the city’s plans to seize the building under eminent domain and demolish it, along with the two adjoining structures, you should be thinking about fair compensation. Please move along with all due haste.”
“Yes Ma’am. As you are aware, I came to own this building when the Freemason’s defaulted on payments to my construction company for the repair work, we performed. Having completed that work, I can attest to the fact that the building is in a secure structural state and can easily meet the building code requirements for the purpose of rental housing, which I am proposing.”
Susan Florence turned and whispered to one of the City Council members at the table with her. “Mr. Serling, from the plans you submitted, I don’t think your so-called housing units meet with the city’s guidelines and they certainly don’t meet with the city’s objectives for this area. As I understand the situation, you’re planning to turn this property into a glorified homeless shelter.”
Mitchel Serling flipped to a descriptive page on his display. “Not a shelter, Ms. Florence. I am proposing to divide the building into independent living units. The fact that I intend to rent these units to people who are currently among the homeless population of this city does not make my project a shelter.”
The mayor spoke quietly with the other people at the table. “Mr. Serling. I’m afraid we cannot support this project. We would prefer the plans submitted by Mr. Artemis Dundee, of Dundee Construction to replace the three parcels with a twelve-story retail and housing complex.”
Mitchel muttered something under his breath. Susan Florence asked for clarification. “Excuse me, Mr. Serling. I don’t think the secretary was able to hear that remark.”
“In reference to your and Mr. Dundee’s plans, I said—and thereby aggravating the homeless problem in the city.”
“Mr. Serling. Mr. Dundee has agreed to designate twenty percent of the rental units in his complex as affordable housing. I think that speaks to the homeless problem in a significant way.”
“It speaks to the problem, Ma’am. It says, loud and clear, ‘go somewhere else!’ Affordable housing is defined by the city as being available at twenty-five percent below market prices. That would still require the resources of a dual income household. Hardly within the reach of our city’s homeless.”
“I’m afraid this matter is settled.”
Michel raised his hand.
The mayor appeared exasperated. “Yes Mr. Serling?”
“I believe I am entitled to appeal this decision to the full Council. I would like to schedule that meeting at this time.”
“Very well, Mr. Serling, the secretary will notify you of the date of the next meeting.”
A week later, Mitchel Serling presented his plans to the full City Council. In a surprise move, Susan Florence had arranged for Artemis Dundee to present his plans. After both presentations were complete, the Chair of the City Counsel addressed the small crowd.
“I think it is in the best interest of the City of Meekan to allow the development of this property to be performed by Dundee Construction.”
One of the homeless men in the audience passed a note to Mitchel Serling. After reading the note he asked to address the council. His request was granted but he was instructed to confine his statements to new information.
“Well, it’s not new information, but it wasn’t mentioned tonight, and it seems to be being overlooked. I own the property in question, and I have a right to develop it. I believe I have the right to present my plans to the Zoning Board of Appeals before the City Council can accept any other plans.”
Susan Florence looked over to Martin Flaherty, Chairman of the Zoning Board. He nodded, indicating that Mitchel was correct. She motioned for Martin to respond to the question.
“The Zoning Board of Appeals meets next Tuesday at seven PM. I will schedule your appeal during that meeting. Keep in mind, Mr. Serling, the Zoning Board follows the law, not the social agenda of the city. You might want to secure the assistance of an attorney.”
A dejected Mitchel Serling remained seated as the room emptied. The homeless man walked over to him.
“Mr. Serling. May I have a word with you?”
“Sure, Mr…”
“Corwin. Henry Corwin.”
Mitchel smiled. “I think they expect us to leave the room, Mr. Corwin. How ‘bout I buy you a cup of coffee at the diner up the street?”
Henry Corwin laughed. “How ‘bout you buy me a glass of bourbon at Bruce’s bar. I have some information you seem to be missing that will help you next Tuesday.”
The two men walked into Bruce’s Bar and Grill. Mitchel looked at Henry Corwin, a sorry looking disheveled man in a threadbare suit. “When was the last time you ate, Mr. Corwin?”
“It’s been a while.”
“Why don’t you order dinner while we’re here. Since it seems I won’t be able to build you a place to live, the least I can do is buy you a meal.”
Henry nodded and smiled. “How much do you know about the building you own, Mr. Serling?”
Mitchel shook his head. “Not much, and please, call me Mitchel. I understand the building’s structure, exterior and interior construction, but that’s about it. In addition to not paying me, the Mason’s weren’t very forthcoming.”
“Well, before the Masons used it, it was the Meekan Club. A fancy-schmancy men’s club for local and traveling businessmen. Travelers could stay at the club while in town.”
Bruce set their drinks down on the table. Henry ordered the dinner special. Bruce looked at Mitchel.
“I assume you’re paying for this. ‘Cuz I know old Henry here doesn’t even have enough money to pay for the bourbon.”
Mitchel nodded. After Bruce left, he looked over at Henry. “I guess that explains why the rooms upstairs had plumbing connections.”
Henry laughed. “Yes and no, Mitchel. You see, both the Meekan Club and the Masons used the building under the provisions of a special use permit. The permit was granted to the Meekan Club in nineteen thirty-four. The city is free to revoke that permit, which would make it hard for you to create living units in the building as it stands.”
Mitchel rubbed his face. “Henry, how do you know so much about this building, and…”
“Why do I sound like a real estate attorney?”
“Well, no offense intended, but yeah. I mean…”
“I’m a homeless person. I am also an attorney, although I haven’t practiced law since my wife died of cancer. We spent all our savings trying to keep her alive. After she died, I started drinking, and, well you get the picture.”
Bruce delivered the daily special. Meatloaf, with mashed potatoes, green beans, and a cup of soup.
“I brought you soup instead of the salad, Henry. I know you like our clam chowder.”
“Thanks Bruce.”
Henry finished the soup quickly. He buttered one of the rolls that came with the meatloaf and thanked Mitchel.
“What you don’t know, Mitchel, and apparently what the mayor doesn’t know, is that your building was originally a boarding school for young men.”
“You’re right, I didn’t know that, but I don’t see how it helps.”
Henry took a bite of meatloaf and some potatoes. “Well, the original documents don’t specify ‘young men,’ just ‘males.’ The portion of the building you can’t see from the street housed the classrooms. The building you see was resident housing for the boys.”
Mitchel smiled. “I think I see where you’re going Henry.”
“Returning the building to its original purpose is something that is allowed under the city charter—basically, the original purpose is grandfathered. If you were to arrange for some classes to be taught, you could have yourself a boarding school.”
“Thank you, Henry. It looks like I have a lot of work to do between now and Tuesday. Perhaps I could enlist your assistance.”
“At your service. I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”
At Tuesday’s Zoning Board of Appeals meeting, Mitchel Serling presented his plans for the Main Street School for Men. The pastor from the local Congregational Church joined him and explained the services to be offered. Classes in health, personal finance and basic computer skills, as well as a few meals during the week.
Mitchel explained that while the residents would be drawn from the city’s homeless population, most of them have some form of income—Social Security, SSI Disability or VA benefits—they couldn’t afford market rents, but he wasn’t looking to make a profit on the operation. He added that, once approved, he would apply for state and federal grants.
Susan Florence asked to address the meeting. “Mr. Serling, I don’t see how their meager benefits will allow them to feed themselves and provide enough income for you to pay the taxes and insure the building.”
Henry Corwin asked if he could speak. Martin Flaherty turned the question back to Mitchel Serling.
“Mr. Serling, does Mr. Corwin represent you in this matter?”
“He does, sir.”
Martin smiled. “Then, by all means, proceed Mr. Corwin.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Since the planned conversion will return the building to its original state of service, it should be governed by the original covenant filed with the City of Meekan. The Main Street School—an educational institution—will exist as a tax-free institution, just as it did in nineteen hundred six. Mr. Serling is placing the building into a trust and has secured pledges to that trust to cover maintenance and insurance for the foreseeable future.
“I would suggest that since Mr. Serling’s plan is to provide essential services and housing to city residents, the city would not prevail in its attempt to take the building by eminent domain. At a minimum, the city would be entering into a protracted legal battle between housing for private profit versus housing for the public good. Even if you win, the reputational damage will be extreme.”
Martin Flaherty smiled after speaking with the other members of the Zoning Board. “Mr. Corwin, it appears you have done your homework. You are correct in your assertion. Mr. Serling, the Zoning Board approves your project, subject to submission of all proper documentation and the securing of all necessary permits.”
Martin looked over at Mitchel and Henry. “Henry, if I might add, off the record, it’s good to see you back on your feet in front of this board.”
Susan Florence interrupted. “I hate to break up old home week, but would any of you gentlemen care to explain what, as Mayor, I’m supposed to do next?”
Henry Corwin looked over at Mitchel. “If I may?”
Mitchell nodded.
“Ms. Florence, I suggest you do what all good politicians do at a time like this.”
“And what would that be, Mr. Corwin?”
“Show up at the announcement ceremony next Friday and make like you’ve been behind this plan since its inception. The ceremony starts at eleven o’clock. The TV news crew will be there at twelve.”
Susan Fletcher smiled at Henry. She turned to Mitchel. “I’ll see you Friday at noon.”
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