Student Scourge

While the Buttrams were upsetting neighbors by leasing to college kids, other wars were being waged in other, less exclusive neighborhoods surrounding the campus. For years, developers have been buying old but solid homes, razing them, and building multi-story houses designed for five tenants. Many students enjoy living off campus but want to remain within walking distance of school. The students rushed to lease these five-bedroom units, prompting the development of even more. Single-family houses end up demolished or left side-by-side with de facto student housing. It’s easy to see the potential for problems.

The phenomenon prompted Historic Fort Worth Inc. to include TCU-area neighborhoods on its list of most endangered places in 2014. That same year, city officials created a task force to develop an overlay district and redefine housing rules. The overlay district includes all of TCU’s bordering single-family neighborhoods: Bluebonnet Hills, Bluebonnet Place, Park Hill, Tanglewood, University Place, Westcliff, and Eppstein’s neighborhood, Colonial Hills.

Fort Worth was following the lead of Austin, Dallas, and other cities that have created overlays to preserve single-family homes and prevent congestion, nuisances, and safety issues. Task force recommendations prompted the city to limit rentals to three tenants. However, existing houses already occupied by five tenants would be grandfathered.

Early on, Eppstein tried to convince the task force to disallow grandfathering and enforce the new rules on all housing. This would have helped his problem on Alton Road. But property owners and developers who had spent money building five-tenant houses under existing rules were outraged. Eppstein’s attempt to block grandfathering failed.

Next, he pushed for draconian rental rules. Some residents said Eppstein came uncomfortably close to pushing those rules through before dissenters sprung into action. Now those rules changes appear to be floundering as well.

Eppstein moved to Plan C or D or whatever it was and began pushing the city to redefine housing categories to better suit his needs on Alton Road. Through it all, he’s been uncharacteristically public. Do an online search for “Bryan Eppstein,” and you’ll be lucky to find more than a couple of photos of the longtime political guru. He has no Wikipedia or Facebook page. He’s a guy who nourishes and maintains relationships at city hall. But in this case, he’s sparred endlessly with residents, city officials, and city staff over the unwanted rental house.

Eppstein and the neighbors he’s representing, Stephen said, “have filed numerous complaints. I would say 100 complaints [in total] with the city, with the zoning commission, the city council, Fort Worth police, TCU police, and fraternities.”

Fort Worth Weekly approached Eppstein in the parking lot at city hall after the Board of Adjustment meeting. A man was already bending Eppstein’s ear, saying something that, based on his angry face, wasn’t pleasant. Eppstein, however, was poised as could be.

Eppstein told the Weekly that he and the man were acquaintances who often agreed to disagree on issues but remained friendly. Except the other man didn’t look agreeable or friendly at all. He was lighting into Eppstein.

“What you are doing is wrong,” the man said, exasperated, and then turned and strode away.

Eppstein smiled, faced the Weekly reporter, and, speaking in his cool, borderline robotic manner, explained that he is merely trying to determine the city’s rules. Accusations that he’s harassing the Buttrams are “blatantly false,” he said. The disagreement, he continued, is based on a simple question of land use.

He turned to leave but stopped.

“I appreciate you covering this,” he said.

What? This coming from a guy who, as far as anyone can recall, has never returned a phone call from a Weekly reporter in 20 years?

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