Couple’s Dream House Becomes an All-Too-Common Nightmare : Real estate: Darrel and Carol Swendener can’t sell their hilltop home. A soft market shackles thousands of residents.

Each time he approaches his Northridge dream house on the hill, Darrel Swendener sees the signs of his growing discontent.

First, outside the driveway is the for-sale sign that has perched like a vulture for more than two years--a warning that something is not quite right here. And the same clanking realtor’s lockbox clings to his front door.

Inside, he and his wife, Carol, keep the house spotless--a necessity in the event of a realtor’s ambush at most any hour of the day or night. That means no dirty dishes, no half-filled coffee cups left on the table.

Then there are the browsers with the white gloves and video cameras who wander through the bedrooms and bathrooms with their real estate agent guide, all of them asking nosy questions, making unfair assumptions, judging the Swendeners as much as they’re sizing up their house.

For a couple of years it has gone on, the ebb and flow of would-be buyers who always seem to find something wrong: The price is too high. There’s no swimming pool. Geez, the grass isn’t exactly the right color.

For the Swendeners, who bought the 2,730-square-foot home in 1989, the rejections are little insults that have become one big hurt.

“It’s like living in a model home--it’s just not ours anymore,” Carol, 57, says, sitting in the kitchen of the hillside home with a 280-degree panorama of the twinkling San Fernando Valley lights below, a view that some days can stretch for 50 miles or more.

“We watch them come and go, and you finally ask yourself, ‘What’s wrong with my house? I love this place.’ You finally decide that your house has a jinx, a little black cloud hovering overhead that chases people away.”

In January, that cloud rained more bad news: The couple suffered $60,000 damage during the Northridge earthquake. They only placed their home back on the market in late June after Darrel spent months playing fix-it man.

Now the couple is watching the clock. Arthritis has forced both into early retirement. In a few months, they won’t be able to afford the mortgage on the house they thought they would own through retirement. Now there’s no choice but to let their dream home go.

The Swendeners are among thousands of anxious Southern California homeowners dragging an A-framed ball and chain--a house that refuses to sell.

While 1993 brought a modest rise in the number of homes sold statewide, realtors warn that the market remains soft.

“Homes are selling slightly faster, but prices are dropping--the end result is that there’s less money changing hands,” said Joe Andrews, co-owner of Century 21 All Properties in Canoga Park.

“Across the state, we’re hearing that homes are sitting on the market for longer periods of time,” Andrews said. “And if they do sell, owners are settling for significantly less.”

Last year, according to statistics from the California Assn. of Realtors, 437,710 existing single-family homes were sold throughout the state, a 2.2% rise from 1992, which saw sales of 428,170.

If the sales pace of the first five months of 1994 continues until year’s end, statistics show, California would see 502,790 homes sold, a rate that would be the highest in five years. By comparison, in the peak years of 1988 and 1989, statistics show, 562,240 and 539,290 homes sold respectively.

The local picture is similar.

Last year in the San Fernando Valley, for example, 10,506 homes and condominiums were sold, a 7.1% rise from 1992, which saw sales of 9,805, according to statistics from the San Fernando Valley Assn. of Realtors.

During the same period, however, the average price of a single-family home dropped 10.9%, from $283,386 to $252,633, representing the third year of decline. And so far this year, sales of homes and condos are up by 24%; but the average price of a single-family residence is down 11% from last year, to $231,283.

Such sobering statistics point to several factors at work in the market. For one, realtors say, banks are selling hundreds of houses at half the going rate in an effort to recoup investments on foreclosed homes.

“That’s one thing the homeowner has to deal with,” said Tom Morehouse, owner of Century 21 in Chatsworth. “Banks have 20 or 30 properties to sell at once and they blow them all out with real low prices. It’s hard for the homeowner to compete.”

Many homeowners, especially those who bought their houses during the 1980s boom and hoped for huge profits, are asking too much, market watchers say.

“The seller then blames the agent when his house doesn’t sell,” Andrews said. “They tell you, ‘Do something!’ But these people have to realize, if their asking price is realistic to begin with, they’re going to sell their home.”

Darrel Swendener says that argument makes his blood boil.

*

“The realtors aren’t making any money,” said the 58-year-old former Sears employee. “So they walk right in and say, ‘Drop the price.’ They’re only thinking of their commissions. Meanwhile, they’re driving the price of every house in the area down, down, down. There’s no bottom.”

After paying $340,000 for his house in 1989, Swendener put it on the market in 1992 for $579,950. Later the price dropped to $470,000. Slowly, like the thermometer dropping on a cool autumn night, the asking price plummeted to its current level: $335,000.

“We were assured that if we dropped the price it would sell immediately,” Swendener said. “We followed instructions. And nobody even looked at the place!”

The Swendeners are no newcomers to the Southern California housing market. They made big profits on two previous homes. But with the Northridge house, Darrel says, they made one big mistake: They invested $100,000 in improvements, money they’ll probably never see again.

So they sit and wait. Then they can move to Oregon and settle in a more affordable community.

First, though, they have to endure the lookers.

Without knocking, one woman walked in on a naked Darrel as he showered in the master bedroom. Another offered Carol cash--not for the house--but for the Christmas tree ornaments she had made.

But the end, they know, is coming.

One day, someone will make the right offer on their dream home. Then they’ll be free to go--with tears in their eyes.

“For years, it’s been like living with a cancer patient,” Darrel said. “There’s been a lot of pain. We want the end to come. But, when it does, we know it’s going to hurt even more.”