The Compound

Most people would probably no longer be interested in a potential investment property upon hearing the owner say things like "I'm sick of being a slumlord," and "the place used to be a condemned crack house." But I'm not most people. I am curious. I am courageous. And I am lucky! Lucky that my gut was right about the owner not being dangerous. He picked me up at the Austin airport and took me back to what he referred to as "The Compound."

You may already be asking yourself why. Well, before leaving for Austin, I was on the phone with a friend debating whether or not to accept a low offer on my house in Anacortes. My friend suggested I take the money and run and make up for the loss somewhere else. While we were on the phone, she actually did a Craigslist search and found a 4plex in Austin for me:

A $160,000 fourplex redesigned to a triplex with an added efficiency studio and loft. A recording studio, large yard with a stage, fishpond, waterfall. And with a cashflow of rent around $2,000 per month.

Sounds good, right? I started daydreaming about keeping a unit for myself in Austin while renting out the other units. Teaching qigong out in the back on this stage. Possibly turning the recording studio into a dojo or treatment room. I looked at the pictures online, and it looked pretty good.

i don't remember seeing a kitchen that looked anything like this!

So I called the guy. It was for sale by owner. And this guy-- let's call him Billy-- came across as an old stoner hippy. The answering machine greeting said to speak up and leave your number more than once since they were all deaf from playing rock music there.

We played a little bit of phone tag and exchanged some emails before talking. And when we did talk, he told me, as I mentioned above, that he was sick of being a slum lord. I asked him what he meant by that. He said he was joking about the slum lord thing. But when I saw the place, I realized he really hadn't been joking.

He also said that the place used to be a condemned crack house and the neighborhood was so dangerous you couldn't walk down the street. But he's cleaned the place up, done a bunch of work on it as a contractor himself. And then he talked about all the gentrification happening in the neighborhood and that University of Texas just bought some apartment buildings down the street for student housing, so there was nothing for me to worry about.

Oddly enough, I wasn't worried. I was hopeful. Hopeful that this was a diamond in the rough. So I asked if I could see the place. Because I was only going to be in Austin for a limited time and at a meditation retreat, I asked if I could come straight from the airport. He agreed and asked if I had a ride, saying it's only a few minutes away. From our conversations and emails, I had a feeling it would be ok to agree to this. So I did. He said to just look for the old hippy dude. So I did.

Coming down the escalator at the Austin Airport, I saw him. Petite build. Late 40's or early 50's. Long brown and grey hair. Tattered jeans with paint splattered all over them. A plaid shirt with the sleeves torn off. Pox marks all over his tan face. Chewing on a toothpic. Redneck meets hippy meets artist meets rocker.

I waved and walked up to him, asking "are you the old hippy dude I'm looking for?" He said yes, so then I asked him to tell me my name and why we were meeting just to be sure it was the right guy. He answered correctly, so I followed him out to his car.

On the way to his car, he tells me that they call the place The Compound because he went to school with David Koresh. "Great! Hearing that name helps me feel safe," and then I changed the topic to one that did make me feel safe: I asked him about his son that he said had moved out to Kirkland, WA after falling in love with some chick through the internet.

Eventually we found our way to his old silver pick up truck with a huge crack in the front windshield. Seat belt worked. I called my friend from the car, reminding her of the address, so she could pick me up soon.

I asked him about smoking during the drive, smoking inside "The Compound." He said that he's tried to enforce a smoking outside policy, but surely some people have smoked in there with all the dozens of musicians and artists that had come through. He also said though that whatever they do in their own rooms is their own business though, could be shooting up or smoking crack for all he cares. The way he said it made me think that's what some of the tenants were actually doing.

the first thing i see upon entering

So I was starting to get the feeling that this would not be the place for me. But still had to see it, and we were almost there. The music space that I'd imagined turning into a dojo, was dark and dungeonous . Billy pointed out a sign that said to smoke outside. He pointed this out to me with an unlit cigarette in hand, and about a minute later he lit up his cigarette while showing me around the place inside.

I wasn't sure if he was just messing with me or if more brain cells were gone than I'd originally estimated. I didn't want to insist that he stop smoking in his own house, but I reminded him that I'm sensitive to smoke. He didn't get the hint.

the doorway to the loft

I still felt safe and was keeping my cool, sort of in shock and awe of this place. It was more unfinished than I'd imagined. One of the bedrooms was really just a closet. One of the other bedrooms was just a partitioned off area, and I couldn't even look inside because there was someone in there making all kinds of strange noises, as if trying to sleep but not able to breathe right. It was creepy. Yucky. Icky. Ew.

the ladder to the "loft"

Although I definitely had the ick factor kicking in, the only time I felt a little unsafe was when I was going to check out the quote-un-quote-loft. There was a big closet, with a hole in the ceiling and a ladder going up the hole. It felt a little strange walking into a closet, but I still figured this guy was harmless. And he was, so it was fine. But the loft was not at all what I'd imagined. None of the place was. And at this point I hadn't even seen the 2 "discreet" units in the front or the efficiency studio.

the shit garden

The partially finished efficiency was actually the nicest part of the place, with lots of window and fresh cedar wood, but there was not going to be a bathroom in it. The 1 bedroom unit-- well, the tenants were surprised when we came in. The place was a mess. Their 2 dogs were happy to see me. But then I saw that those dogs had been pooping inside. Yes, there was dog shit in the living room, and it wasn't even fresh. I didn't say anything about it. I still asked to go upstairs to see the bedroom. I think I was too fascinated and shocked to just say, "Ya know what? Forget it!" Instead I said things like, "Hmmm, This is really requiring a lot of imagination on my part. Not sure if I can take this on."

I knew my friend would be picking me up soon, and we still had the 2 bedroom unit to look at. It wasn't too bad, but, then again, what would be bad after the dog shit unit? Because it was pretty clean though and not as much was unfinished in it, I was able to just really get more of the essence of the place. And it was dark. Even in the brightest room painted with blue skies and white cumulus clouds. And I didn't want any part of it. When my friend arrived, I was relieved.

I felt I needed to be smudged, dunked in water, baptized, exorcised. For at least 3 days after. It lingered. I'm grateful for the experience though! It was quite a trip.


© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.