I loved working at Gladstone Associates. I loved the people, the work, and the environment. But I was not sure if this was the right fit for a long term commitment. My social conscience kept nagging me quietly, “Is this really how you want to spend the rest of your life, helping real estate developers?” That is why when a new opportunity came up, I jumped on it.
One of the major clients that Gladstone Associates had at the time was the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, which had recently been given a 624-acre tract of mostly wooded land in the far suburbs of Washington by a wealthy, deceased tobacco farmer named Seton Belt. Not knowing what to do with the property, the diocese had hired Gladstone to help them figure it out; and by another stroke of good luck, I was the associate assigned to work on it. Our team was headed by one of the partners, who was my mentor, and included two research associates (entry level positions). I was the associate responsible for managing most of the work. This was in 1973 when the field of planning and urban development was forging new ground as new HUD programs were being introduced to create affordable housing and the idea of building new towns was becoming popular. The new towns of Reston and Columbia were both in the Washington region and were getting national attention.
So we did the usual routine of determining the market area, running demographics, identifying and analyzing the competition, and then making recommendations—of “product, price and pace” (number of units that could be absorbed by the market annually). And voila, we announced our recommendation: why not develop another “new town”? Afterall, 624 acres was a huge site and though somewhat remote from Washington, the site was drop dead gorgeous and included one of the few virgin forests remaining on the East Coast (and which would be preserved in perpetuity if our plan moved forward). A world class architectural firm was added to the team, and the project was off and running.
The final plan called for a community called “Seton Belt Village” containing over 3,500 units accommodating 11,000 people. Some 400 units would be part of a senior living community but one that was not set apart and isolated as is often the case but fully integrated into the larger community. Skilled nursing care and assisted living would also be included along with a large “town center” and all sorts of amenities, with spaces for dining, an auditorium, meeting rooms, swimming pool and gym reserved for seniors. It would be a world class community, which when completed surely would be featured in all the books on urban planning.
To move forward, the diocese needed someone to manage and direct the development effort. With my seminary degree, Episcopal Church connections, and experience in real estate development, I thought I had a good shot at getting it, expressed my interest, and landed the job. I reported directly to the chief executive officer of diocese, a very smart, but also driven, Episcopal priest. Managing a complex real estate development, it turns out, is very different from doing market research and financial feasibility analyses, so it was another opportunity for on the job training.
And in the case of Seton Belt Village, the ambitious undertaking would be a heavy lift. The early 1970s was a time of idealism, reform, anti-Vietnam War protests, and civil rights initiatives, which much like today pitted conservatives, evangelicals, and malcontents against liberal Democrats and progressives. The Episcopal Diocese of Washington—considered by some to be elitist—was clearly on the progressive side. The county government at the time was in the camp of what would be today’s MAGA Republicans. To complicate matters further we carried additional baggage of unapologetically supporting what now falls into the category of DEI. Seton Belt Village was to be fully integrated according to race and class as well as age. Great idea but the deck was stacked against us. Two years and over twenty meetings with county officials, the final vote by the county council came in regarding rezoning the property, and it was unanimous. The eight members, all white men, most privileged sons of tobacco wealth, cast their final vote: there was no place in the county for a project like what we were proposing. (The property was eventually sold to the Nature Conservancy and remains undeveloped.)
What to do next? As the saying goes, when one door is slammed shut, the Lord opens another. When the final vote happened, we had no choice but to throw in the towel, lick our wounds and call it quits. At the same time an historically Black Episcopal church in the elite Foggy Bottom neighborhood in downtown Washington approached the diocese asking for help in developing an affordable senior living community on a vacant site next to the church and adjacent to the campus of George Washington University where once stood one of the first public housing projects in the District of Columbia. This was in 1974 when a brand new program had just become law, a revision of Section 202 of the National Housing Act, which provided deep rent subsidies for low income seniors living in properties developed and owned by not for profit organizations. We jumped in and submitted a proposal to HUD for the first round of selection.
And we won! That meant not only that I still had a job but an opportunity to learn how to get projects designed, financed and constructed. And I loved the work, figuring out how all the numbers fit together and working with the architects and engineers and the construction company. We called the project “St Mary’s Court” in honor of the Episcopal Church that sat adjacent to the site and which had the original idea. And this community was—and still is—truly special. The 144-unit building was positioned as a “congregate housing” community, which included a central kitchen and dining area where one meal a day would be provided for all the residents at a reduced fee subsidized by a local Episcopal foundation. Free lunch was provided under a federal nutrition program. The George Washington University was given space for a free health care clinic for residents and there were plenty of common areas. Under the HUD Section 8 Program, residents pay no more than 30 percent of their income for rent and utilities. In those days affirmative action was both legal and encouraged, and the initial lease up accommodated a mix of races which reflected the racial and ethnic population of the District of Columbia at that time and has remained diverse since its opening in the late 1970s. (I continued my involvement after leaving the Diocese of Washington and have served on the board as “the bishop’s representative” since that time.)
And the big surprise–and payoff– for me was that because of Saint Mary’s Court, soon after the project was under construction, I got a call from the largest affordable housing developer in the country at the time, The National Corporation for Housing Partnerships, which offered me the position of “Director of Development,” responsible for developing all the properties that the company undertook without a local partner. My guardian angel had not forgotten about me.
More on that later.
But what about Embry and her career path, our two children, and our lives in Cleveland Park, the neighborhood where we lived in Washington? That is the subject of the next blog post.