More Hoopla at Simpson Home Auction
The traveling circus that is the O.J. Simpson affair loaded up its wagons and made one more spectacular pass through L.A. County--this time in a modest, glamour-free swatch of suburbia.
Simpson’s fabled Brentwood estate was put on the auction block Monday--it’s estimated he owed well over $100,000 in back mortgage payments--on the steps of the county courthouse in Norwalk. At last, Norwalk citizens had their own moment to bask in the reflected glare of television cameras, as the bank that has held title to the home turned in the winning bid of about $2.6 million.
“It’s the only O.J. event on the Eastside--and it took ‘em three years to get here,” said Dick Whitrock, who left his South Whittier home to observe.
As rudimentary public auctions of property in foreclosure go, this one set a standard for excitement. The action unfolded before a sprawling array of a hundred-some reporters, television cameras from around the world and another couple hundred curious onlookers. The bidding itself was done in a matter of minutes.
Even Elaine Young, the real estate agent who sold Simpson the house in 1977 (for $650,000, she says) was there, drafted by reporters into giving color commentary. (“It has five bedrooms and a maid’s. . . .”)
Passersby could only gape in wonder.
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Even the auction officials who sell off property in foreclosure every business day say a good crowd for them is 30 or 40 people, only a few of whom come with cameras.
“We’ve been filmed before--but it’s usually because someone is going to sue us,” said Renee Patrick, vice president of Trustee’s Assistance Corp., which set up the auction on behalf of winning bidder Hawthorne Savings, the bank holding the trust to the house.
The mere fact that the auction was so open and ritualized gave it a certain riveting rawness--kind of like a flogging in a town square.
Dutifully, an official polled those cordoned behind police tape in the courtyard, calling out several times for bidders. “Any other qualified bidders? Please, please come forward,” said Patrick Dobiesz, the gray-suited, bespectacled head of the company that took care of the foreclosure proceedings for the bank. Without blinking--or laughing--he uttered this to a crowd mostly composed of tense reporters and curious members of the public, some in shorts and T-shirts drinking coffee, munching cookies and looking more in the market for groceries than multimillion-dollar Brentwood property.
“Melrose” Larry Green, the perpetual call-in hound to the Howard Stern radio show, signaled the official that he wanted to bid, producing a financial statement showing a balance of $933,798.26 in an investment account he said was his. But that wasn’t good enough, and he was turned away.
In fact, nothing less than a cashier’s check for $2,531,259--or the cool cash itself--would have gotten you a chance to bid in the bright sunlight. That’s the amount owed to the bank.
Auctioneer Garth Russell opened the bidding at $1.875 million, but within minutes the house was sold at $2,631,259. To the bank. There were two other qualified bidders. One never opened his mouth and slipped out in the post-auction pandemonium.
The other bidding party consisted of Glendale investor Steve Whitlock and Pasadena investor John Hall, who routinely buy properties at auction and turn around and sell them. But they quickly discovered there was nothing routine about their bid Monday.
When he started to walk off, Whitlock was treated like a reclusive rock star suddenly spotted in public as reporters made a vacuum lock around him and bled him dry for comments and business cards. (“I didn’t think it would be like this,” he explained apologetically after he was tapped out of cards.) “Would you like to be on the ‘Today’ show?” asked an official-looking staffer. A woman from Cerritos asked for--and got--his autograph.
“STEVE Whitlock, the LOSING bidder. . . ,” intoned a television reporter corralling Whitlock into a stand-up interview.
A tall, lanky gray-haired man in a plaid shirt and dark green slacks, Whitlock shrugged off the attention.
“It just looked like a good deal,” he said. “The fact that it was O.J.’s house--we’re here three times a week bidding on property.”
Neither Whitlock nor Hall had any intention of moving into the house. “We’d have sold it fast,” said Whitlock, who figures the residence could fetch $4 million.
Whitlock bid one dollar over the full sum that Simpson owed the bank and brought several checks to cover various potential bid amounts. “I would have gone to $2.6 million,” he said. The winning bid was only about $31,000 more than that, and the two investors were peppered with inquiries about why they didn’t try to top the bank’s last offer.
“You set the amount you’re willing to pay,” Whitlock said. “If it goes over that, you move on to the next thing.”
Now that the bank has bought the house, it essentially pays itself back the $2.5 million it is owed by Simpson. (Hawthorne Savings initiated foreclosure proceedings in late March, when Simpson had fallen $86,000 in arrears in mortgage payments.) It will pay the extra $100,000 to one or more of the many lien holders on the property.
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Now that the bank has the property, it can turn around and try to sell the house for a handsome profit.
“They’ll probably do what you and I would do if we wanted to sell our houses,” said Dobiesz, whose T.D. Service Co. took care of the foreclosure proceedings and represented the bank at the auction. “They might hire brokers.”
Dobiesz also figured the bank wouldn’t be standing on Simpson’s lawn that afternoon to throw him out. “I think they’ll turn it over to their attorneys and let them go through the proper procedures,” he said, estimating that would take two to three months.
Watching all these multimillion-dollar machinations from across the street were the folks who work in a county welfare office. In the elevator, it was a topic of conversation. As Tony Moore, who works in security, rode in the elevator, he turned to clerk Kelley Collins.
“You get your house?” Moore asked her casually.
“Yeah, I got it,” Collins said with a mischievous smile.
Moore chuckled. “Can I have Kato’s guest house?”
