Residents' revolution

The park, long known as Island in the Sun, sold for $16.2-million just two years ago. The property appraiser's office values the park at $10.7-million for tax purposes. Then last month, someone offered $26-million.

Make that three someones.

Park owners are required by law to give homeowners 45 days to buy their park only if the park is put up for sale.

But Stella Del Mar owner Julius Szabo received three unsolicited offers to buy the park: two from companies that own mobile home parks, and one from a California real estate investment trust. Szabo's attorney, Jonathan Damonte, said one of the companies that made an unsolicited offer to buy the park didn't come through with a contract in a timely manner so Szabo decided to give residents 40 days to counter the $26-million offer.

Residents didn't know who bid, but they doubted the new owner would keep it a mobile home park. They had to do something, or lose their homes.

Betty Jamail, vice president of the homeowners association, immediately called an attorney, who referred her to the Florida Community Services Group.

The group, which offers consulting services to residents interested in purchasing their parks, crunched some numbers and decided that 161 of the 400-plus homeowners needed to come up with $49,000 each.

That $7.8-million would cover a 25 percent down payment, closing costs and provide an initial operating reserve. Homeowners would get a mortgage to finance the purchase and form a cooperative, with each homeowner getting a share.

Each owner would pay $250 monthly to satisfy the park's mortgage and cover a maintenance fee. Owners who borrowed $49,000 for their share of the upfront money would have to repay that debt too.

Those owners not buying into the cooperative will continue to rent their lots, but pay more, according to those organizing the cooperative.

The financial challenge was daunting for most residents in the 55-plus community. Most live off Social Security and can barely foot the $422 monthly lot rent.

Many have health problems and rack up hundreds of dollars in monthly prescriptions. They use what little money they have to maintain their tidy but modest homes. Several have bad credit and can't get a loan.

How were they going to come up with $26-million?

Board member Gerald G. Green was in Illinois but immediately caught a flight to Florida. Going door-to-door, he persuaded his neighbors to buy into the park. Several came up with a $1,000 deposit. Others couldn't. Like Green, about 30 percent of the residents are seasonal and weren't in town.

Residents were constantly reminded time was running out. Alerts flashed on the park's cable TV channel and letters were mailed.

"PLEASE don't let this happen to us," pleaded a notice at the clubhouse. "Sign up now. This is our last chance."

If residents didn't buy the park, they could sell their homes or try moving them elsewhere. But many would be forced to walk away, abandoning mobile homes too old or too costly to move. And if a home isn't paid off, the owner would still owe the mortgage. The state would give the owner a few thousand dollars to start over, and six months to make the move.

"It's going to kill some of these people, the stress they're putting them through," said resident Rose DeYoung, 55. "I don't think it's fair."

Phyllis Jenkins tears up at the thought of getting a $48,000 loan.

"We don't have much of a choice," explains Ray Jenkins, 67.

The Jenkinses finally paid off their debts a month ago, after her mother passed away and they sold her mobile home. They bought their two-bedroom double-wide for $43,000 in 1984.

Now they will have to pay $461 a month on their loan, and a $250 maintenance fee for the park's mortgage payment and operating costs. After paying their electric bills, car insurance, homeowners insurance and prescriptions costs, there's not much left from their monthly $1,600 combined Social Security income.

A Navy veteran, Ray Jenkins retired from his job but recently went back to work at a $9-per-hour part-time maintenance job to make ends meet. Their new roof set them back $4,000. Last week, he climbed onto the roof to trim tree limbs instead of paying someone $100 to do it. His wife hasn't been able to work since injuring her back in an automobile accident a decade ago.

Phyllis Jenkins' son calls mobile home parks "lighted graveyards," places where seniors move after retirement and stay till they die. But this is her home, with the apple-shaped knobs on the kitchen cabinets and teapot collection on a display shelf.

"I want to stay here," said Jenkins, 65. "I just love my home. It's not a whole lot. It's not a mansion."

Like several other residents, Lucille Gilbert and her husband will be taking out their first mortgage. Edmond Gilbert was diagnosed with cancer last month, and she doesn't want to move him away from his doctors. They've lived in their double-wide for two decades.

"We have to buy in," said Gilbert, 79. "It's better than losing everything."

But Charlie Ball has had enough. He's trying to sell his double-wide for $74,000 and plans to move to Phoenix with his wife, but interested buyers shy away when they learn of the park's status.

"We'll never go into another mobile home park ever, ever, ever, for the reason they're kicking us out here," said Ball, 76. "That's just living on land you don't even own. How can you be that stupid?"

That's why an increasing number of parks are converting to co-ops. There are more than 600 resident-owned parks statewide, including about 100 in Pinellas. Because residents own the land, they are assured it will stay a mobile home park.