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Housing squeeze

Who's to blame for P-town's sky high rents? Out-of-town guppies? Wealthy lesbians? Could it just be the strong economy?

by William J. Mann

[Jay Critchley] There's trouble in paradise, and for several days this summer, drivers on Route 6A could figure it out: the WELCOME TO PROVINCETOWN sign had been altered to read: WELCOME TO PROFIT TOWN. For years, it's been an ever-increasing gripe: Provincetown is becoming too commercial. No one cares about year-rounders. Everything's too expensive. But the sniping reached a new level of acrimony this past season, with shouting matches on Commercial Street and personal feuds being played out in the local newspapers. And, in a twist on the familiar complaint of gay men coming into an area and driving up housing costs (South End, anyone?), in Provincetown, lesbians are being blamed for the problem.

The chief grievance is housing -- specifically, how efforts to accommodate Provincetown's continued popularity as a gay resort have made affordable, year-round housing hard to come by. To dramatize the problem, local conceptual artist Jay Critchley constructed a prototype for new housing -- in an abandoned septic tank. Furnished with all the comforts of home, Critchley's creation drew front-page coverage from the Cape Cod press.

[Irene Rabinowitz] "We all need to take a long, hard look at what's happening to our community," says Irene Rabinowitz, a housing advocate and former member of the Provincetown Board of Selectmen. "Do we want to become like Vail, Colorado? It's the same phenomenon that's happening here, except in reverse. There, it's a ghost town in the summer, and in the winter they have to bus in workers because there's no housing left they can afford."

For the first time in recent memory, shops along Commercial Street still had HELP WANTED signs in their windows in July, in part because the people who typically fill those jobs can't find anyplace to live. The annual number of condo conversions is at an all-time high, with available year-round rentals at a corresponding all-time low, according to Bob O'Malley, a realtor from Beachfront Realty who's kept close tabs on housing trends. Many year-rounders now find even winter rentals hard to come by. And while summer rentals remain plentiful, most property owners can charge triple what they asked for only a few years ago.

Talk on the street and letters to the editor in Provincetown's two newspapers assert that the crunch is gay-driven. More specifically, out-of-town gay-driven, with rich Baby Boom queers from Boston, New York, and Connecticut taking over the furthest reaches of the Cape. Some allege that it's increasingly a lesbian takeover, with double-income women couples buying up homes formerly owned by gay men who've died of AIDS-related illnesses.

The perception that lesbians are the primary driving force behind the boom is heard in some men's laments that women "are taking over the town," but it's not based on any hard data. Realtors estimate that gay men are still the most common property owners, but women are definitely buying in larger numbers than in the past. Rabinowitz thinks there are more younger lesbians in town "who have broken through the glass ceiling to some degree, making larger disposable incomes."

[Jay Critchley] "Three to five years ago there were a lot of AIDS sales," says Jack Kosko, a realtor with the Pat Shultz agency, referring to homes on the market due to the deaths of their gay male owners. Many were indeed bought by lesbians, he says, but certainly not all. Today, people with AIDS are living longer on new drugs, and there are fewer such properties on the market.

Statistics are difficult to come by, but realtors and housing advocates agree that the town is dominated by gay and lesbian property owners. And of the queer property owners, most realtors say -- again, anecdotally -- that there's a fairly even split between gay men and lesbians. (According to records at the Provincetown assessor's office, home and condo sales in 1995 and 1996 were almost evenly divided between male and female buyers.) Furthermore, realtors estimate that at least 75 percent of all properties in Provincetown are owned by people whose primary residence is out of town.

'We just don't have much land left'

"The condo-ization of Provincetown is a disgrace," says an artist who's lived in town for a decade and asked not to be identified. "It's changing the fabric of the town, of who and what we are. There was a way of life here that's what made Provincetown so special. It wasn't like Fire Island, where all it is is rich white gay men and their summer houses. Provincetown was a working village, with fishermen, and artists, and children."

The numbers bear out her anxiety. Of the single-family homes still standing in Provincetown, it's estimated that 90 percent of them are owned by year-round dwellers. By contrast, 95 percent of Provincetown's condos are owned by out-of-towners -- who rent them during the peak summer season and let them sit dark during the winter. The condo conversion rate in town, meanwhile, has more than tripled since 1994, when just seven year-round homes were converted into condos. In 1996, the number of condo conversions was 26; O'Malley predicts 1997 conversions will equal or surpass that number.

The figures need to be understood within the context of Provincetown's unique land situation. Provincetown has just eight and a half square miles of land on which to develop; of that, 70 percent is protected national seashore. As a result, the town has a growth- management bylaw, which doles out just 28 building permits per year. And given that much of the land that's left isn't exactly prime real estate, not all of the permits are used each year. Says Harborside Realty agent Len Bowen, "We just don't have much land left. That's a big part of the problem."

Proposals for single-family housing are customarily given first crack at those 28 permits; condos are at the bottom of the list. "Production of new multi-unit condos was essentially prohibited by the town," O'Malley says. "Because it couldn't build, the market turned to eating the existing housing stock to meet the demand for condos." Many long-time owners of single- and multifamily homes are obliging this trend.

It's hard to blame property owners for doing so. "The way the economy is, they'd be foolish not to," says Atlantic Bay realtor Gregg Russo. "They can triple their investment in just a few weeks of rental in the summer." Even sons and daughters of Provincetown's original Portuguese fishing community have converted their family homesteads into condos, made some money, and bought homes out of town.

'The summer playground of rich fags and dykes'

"Everyone wants a piece of Provincetown," Russo says. And that's not necessarily a bad thing.

"I feel at home there, as I've never felt anywhere else," says Randall Bennett, a gay man from the Boston area who is looking to buy a home in Provincetown after spending several summers there. "It's beautiful, it's peaceful, but it's also gay. There's something to be said about being able to hold your lover's hand in the post office."

Many gay and lesbian baby boomers plan to retire to Provincetown and are now anxiously combing that 8.5-square-mile stretch for any available space. Such demand, of course, has ratcheted up the prices spectacularly. "There's a lot of money being spent in Provincetown right now," Russo acknowledges, "and I don't see the pressure letting up for at least 15 years."

At the same time, he sees home prices going up by a third within the next five years. Steep costs haven't deterred buyers: sales have grown by about 25 percent each year since 1994. Last year, there were 314 property sales, and year-to-date figures for 1997 suggest that figure will be topped yet again. The boom is partly attributable to the region's strong economy, but it is also due to Provincetown's unique economy as a gay and lesbian resort. "We're somewhat insulated from market trends," O'Malley says, "because our buyers tend to be second-home buyers, who are more affluent to start with, and gay and lesbian, who often don't have college costs for children. Our market tends to decline after others, and it recovers sooner."

Of course, the high cost of home-buying is reflected in P-town's steep summer rental prices, as well as in guesthouse rates. Owners have higher mortgages to pay, and so must charge more. Five years ago, many guesthouses were charging $60 a night. Most of them now top $100.

It's also become much more profitable for owners to rent out homes on a weekly basis during the season and then enjoy them at their leisure in the fall and winter. Summer rentals from May to September (and sometimes October) went for $4000 to $8000 just a few years ago. Now weekly rentals often approach $2000. In 20 weeks, homeowners can earn a year's worth of mortgage payments and pocket a profit.

Ted Malone, a housing consultant working on the creation of affordable units in town, is sympathetic to the situation many property owners find themselves in. "From their vantage point, it's a very wise investment [to condo-ize or rent seasonally]," he says. "But the difference is that we used to have a situation where second-home owners would use their places themselves in the summer and then rent them out to locals in the winter."

Rabinowitz says that when she moved into her housing complex in 1989, all seven units were year-round apartments. Now there are just two. "In the winter, the owners use them occasionally on weekends," she says, "or they're dark."

There's no question that Provincetown is now primarily owned by gay men and lesbians. Although only one member of the Board of Selectmen is gay (down from three or four a few years ago), most of the residents who go to town meetings and serve on the various town committees are identifiably gay or lesbian.

The benefits of a gay town are obvious, but even gay folk have concerns about its image. "What brought me here was that Provincetown was a place where all kinds of people lived and worked together, where working-class folk and artists and college students bumming around for the summer mingled freely," says a local artist. "Now it's becoming just a summer place to party for a lot of rich fags and dykes."

The town's long history as an artists' colony is threatened, she says, because artists can't afford to live there. Gone are the days, too, when college kids could spend the summer in Provincetown working odd jobs and getting a taste of bohemia. "They can't afford the housing," she says.

To make up for a shortage of house boys, waitstaff, and clerks, many businesses have hired Jamaican workers, who often accept housing American workers call "substandard." This is often housing provided by the employers themselves. While it meets local health and zoning standards, it is often crowded and rundown.

Marcus is a 26-year-old Jamaican worker who feels "overworked and crowded into housing like a sardine." Yet he's not complaining. "I make good money here in the summer," he says. "Money I could not make at home. I am here and work my butt off and bring the money home to my wife and two daughters. I am not unhappy."

Similar conditions exist in Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard. "Sometimes I think people think what's happening in Provincetown is a unique thing," says Russo, "when it's actually very common in beach resorts."

The concern, says Rabinowitz, is gentrification and losing what made Provincetown special. "The question is, what happens to a vibrant year-round community? What happens to our way of life?"

'There's room to grow'

[Malone and O'Malley] The goal of the town's Affordable Housing Working Group is to find ways to create housing in a market not geared toward middle-class, working-class, or disabled people.

When the group asked Town Meeting to exempt developers of affordable housing from the growth management bylaw, it won unanimous approval. The solution was to allocate any unused permits under the 28-per-year limit for affordable housing. They came away with a surprising 86 permits.

"So there is room to grow after all," says Ted Malone. "That gives developers an incentive. Otherwise they'd have had to wait in line and possibly lose their funding."

Malone has been an inspiration to housing advocates, providing a take-charge optimism that this year saw the development of nine affordable housing units -- four for sale, five for rental -- on Conwell Street. Malone, whose Community Housing Resource Inc. provides development consulting to local authorities and nonprofit groups, says the new units are targeted to artists and first-time homebuyers.

"My hope now is that people will see this and say it can happen," Malone says.

He's already looking at other sites for development. Some have suggested Shank Painter Road as a logical area to develop, above new shops and offices. There's also talk of the town forming a trust fund to collect money and donate land for new affordable housing.

"There's a momentum building," Malone says, "but we don't have much time to waste." He is urging other developers to make recommendations to Town Meeting and secure state and federal funding. Most locals recognize that the face of Provincetown is going to change over the next decade. As many gay and lesbian second-home owners retire there, the population could swell, necessitating more services and a more vital year-round economy. Stabilizing the town's base today will have a long-range benefit.

"I'm optimistic," says Jack Kosko. "Housing is a problem, but at least it's not being shoved under the rug anymore, as it has been for years."

The key, observers say, is to embrace the changes with compassion and creativity. New homeowners who buy a piece of Provincetown, even out-of-towners, need to be welcomed as part of the community and encouraged to help find solutions. They will no doubt change the character of the town, but it is hoped that they will also respect its long tradition of tolerance and diversity.

Randall Bennett, who hopes to put in a bid on a house before the end of the year, says, "If it's going to be home, I want to do what's best for Provincetown. If I end up living there, as I hope, as many of my friends hope, it behooves me to get involved."

He adds, "We all need to, if we're going to make it work."

William J. Mann is the author of The Men from the Boys (Dutton). He can be reached at Scribe30@aol.com.


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