The Pomroys never had a lot of money — and their rowhouse, on Frankford Avenue, was never anywhere near pristine condition. But for their granddaughter, Linsey Franklin, it was a safe place during the Fishtown neighborhood’s rough years, even if the wooden siding on a rear addition was rotting and a tree was growing through a rusted car in the yard.
The house stayed that way as the neighborhood around it underwent dramatic gentrification, bringing luxury hotels, high-end restaurants, cocktail bars, boutiques, and, in 2019, a new Fishtown Kensington Area Business Improvement District (BID).
Now, the Fishtown BID, a community development nonprofit, has lost patience with what it deems an eyesore. It is seeking to use a state law, known as Act 135, that enables nonprofits to take control of abandoned, blighted properties and sell them off. In a June court filing, set for a hearing in January, it said the action was necessary to “remove a significant blighting influence on the neighborhood” and “an attractive nuisance to children.”
To Franklin, it feels more like class warfare — and a misapplication of the law.
“We’ve never abandoned this property,” she said. “I’m 40, almost, and the house looks exactly like it did when I was younger.”
Franklin’s grandparents died years ago. But her aunt, Denise Pomroy, was still living in their home up until December 2019, when she collapsed on the front steps and had to be rushed to the hospital. Pomroy had diabetes and had lost the use of her legs, according to her family. She remained in a skilled nursing facility for the next four years.
“How do you put a time limit on your family trying to get better?” Franklin asked.
Franklin said her aunt seemed resigned in their last conversation, telling her she no longer believed she’d get to come home. Pomroy never got the opportunity. She died on Saturday, at age 65.
Marc Collazzo, the president of the Fishtown Kensington Area Business Improvement District, described Franklin’s account as “disinformation.” He referred questions to his lawyer, Michael McIlhinney, who did not respond to requests for comment.
A recent report from the University of Pennsylvania’s law school warned that Act 135 was being disproportionately used in areas that were already at high risk of displacement due to rising real estate prices. Though only nonprofits and nearby neighbors may seek conservatorship, the report from Penn’s Advocacy for Racial and Social Justice Clinic warned that the law’s fee structure creates a huge financial incentives in high-value markets. Conservators are entitled to recoup their rehab costs and legal fees, and take a 20% cut of any sale.
Collazzo was a longtime staffer for retired State Rep. John Taylor, a Northeast Philadelphia Republican who championed efforts to expand the use of Act 135.
Under Collazzo’s leadership, the Fishtown BID has filed at least three conservatorship actions. It took control of the Brotherhood Rescue Mission, a former soup kitchen on Girard Avenue, and sold it to a buyer who is converting it into a mixed-use development. According to minutes from its November meeting, the BID’s leaders hoped to use $90,000 from that sale to pay for street-cleaning contracts. In September, it began proceedings against another Girard Avenue property owner.
When Franklin posted her story to a Fishtown Facebook group with more than 27,000 members, the response was widespread outrage. Some participants vowed to begin circulating petitions to disband the BID entirely.
”It’s very upsetting,“ said Jack McMaster, a neighborhood resident who said that, after he spoke out on Facebook, more than a dozen businesses contacted him saying they supported dissolving the BID. He sees the lawsuit as a money grab rather than a civic good.
Franklin said her family members paid the taxes and did their best to tend to the house in her aunt’s absence — cutting the grass, paying the taxes, and trying to comply with violation notices from the city Department of Licenses & Inspections (L&I). Contrary to the court filing, she noted, recent visits to the house showed no sign that children, or anyone else, had gained access.
But some of the violation notices are not resolved, including one from L&I labeling the building as unsafe. Franklin said the family hired a contractor to make repairs. But when he advised that the rotten siding L&I had flagged was a cosmetic issue and not structural, she said, “We thought that we had time. Because we don’t have a lot of money, we’ve been doing a little at a time.”
The “make-safe” permit for the property has since expired, an indication the city considers the work abandoned prior to completion.
Complicating the situation, earlier this year, Denise Pomroy’s son Chris began talking with a developer, JSC Real Estate, about selling the property for $825,000. But that deal fell apart because he didn’t have clear title to the property, which is still in Franklin’s grandparents’ names.
The conservatorship petition was filed shortly afterward. JSC then filed its own action against the estate. JSC’s Jordan Claffey did not return phone calls.
Franklin said her family wants to sell the home. But they wanted to put it on the market themselves. Until Pomroy’s death, they had hoped to use the money to buy a wheelchair accessible trailer for her to live in. If it’s sold through conservatorship, she fears there will be nothing left.
“They’re taking the only asset we have,” she said.
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