On a cold and dreary day in Baltimore, I see hope rising: Eight men in hoodies and jeans at work on small houses in a part of the city that had been left for dead years ago.
All around, in all other directions, you see tragic evidence of the decades-long flight that started in the mid-20th century and eventually reduced Baltimore’s population by a third: vacant, boarded-up rowhouses and urban prairies where, once upon a time, there were crowded neighborhoods in a city of 900,000 souls.
But here, on little Holbrook Street, off of East Preston, the project called Hope Village is underway: new houses where six months ago there were vacant lots.
Eight of the homes, designed and constructed for small families in need of stable housing, are being framed and insulated; five more are getting their slab foundations.
You see something like that, a dream at long last coming to fruition, and the day starts to feel not so cold, not so dreary.
As you look around at all the empty space and all the opportunity for new housing, and when you consider the dwindling space for new home construction in the suburbs, you wonder: Could Hope Village be the future for single-family houses? Could it be a model for other American cities?
Quick background: Readers might recall meeting Christian and Pamela Wilson in this space. I declared them the most determined-to-do-good couple in Baltimore.
After the Wilsons moved to Baltimore a couple of decades ago, they kick-started their philanthropic work here with a weekend food program for children and their low-income families. In doing that, the Wilsons learned about a chronic city problem: The lack of affordable housing.
Given their professional backgrounds in the maritime insurance trade, the Wilsons had an idea: Why not convert some of the nation’s overstock of 40-foot steel cargo containers into homes for people needing a place to live?
They started exploring that idea five years ago, even engaging an architect to draw up plans, but they ultimately found the conversions unfeasible. The costs of used containers increased substantially, and the Wilsons found contractors reluctant to turn them into houses.
Still, the Wilsons wanted to create new housing. They were not interested in being landlords; they wanted to sell fully furnished houses at $25,000 to working people living in poverty, turning renters into homeowners.
They cobbled together grants and other funds to reduce the per-unit costs.
In 2020, they had the good fortune of a phone call from developer Mark Sapperstein. He had read about the Wilsons; he was impressed with their ambitions and agreed to help.
In fact, he helped them in a huge way.
Sapperstein, whose firm is 28 Walker, agreed to cover the difference between the construction cost (about $200,000) and the selling price of each house.
So it’s happening. Hope Village is becoming a reality.
Chris Wilson says the project has attracted other donations and sparked a lot of interest among housing advocates.
“I really believe,” Wilson says, “if we can get enough traction into this idea of providing homes at a cost that the poor can afford, we may be on the way to [helping] the 53% of the homeless population that are just poor and have never had the opportunity to ever own a home. I think that once the [Hope Village] houses are built, we may start a little revolution here for homeless people and those facing home insecurity.”
Is this a model for the nation?
Why not?
In cities with plenty of vacant lots but not enough affordable housing, it could be. Families are generally smaller than they used to be. Small houses with small yards, like those in Hope Village, could solve part of the homelessness problem and serve as starter homes for young parents or single adults. It would increase Baltimore’s population and tax base.
But money is the biggest obstacle to projects like this. In pushing for a vigorous effort to solve the city’s vacant house crisis, Baltimoreans United In Leadership Development estimated that such an undertaking will require $7.5 billion in public and private money.
That’s why, three years ago, I published a plea to billionaire Michael Bloomberg to put $1 billion into creating affordable housing in Baltimore by restoring hundreds of vacant houses. I also suggested that he fund the Wilsons’ project. If that’s not the best use of a rich man’s enormous wealth, it’s certainly top five. Bloomberg, with an estimated net worth of $96.3 billion, never responded.
But Mark Sapperstein and his wife, Stacy, did, and come spring we could see people moving into the Hope Village homes. Mayor Brandon Scott, the Greater Baltimore Committee and all city foundations should take a look at this project model and consider its potential.
And speaking of Mayor Scott: Before this column ends, I must draw his attention to another good project on the other side of the city, in West Baltimore, Resurrection Sandtown. That’s a proposed “health care village,” the big dream of the Rev. Rodney Hudson and Ames United Methodist Church for new housing, a training academy for certified nursing assistants and a child care center. The project is coming along, with developers and the nonprofit Dwyer Workforce Development engaged. But the mayor might want to intervene to help Hudson end a long bureaucratic hassle over the church’s water bills. No one deserves those hassles, but especially the big dreamers and doers.
