I can’t quite recall how many people ran for the first board, nor do I remember the exact meeting—though it was likely held at Mary Bryan Elementary’s gym. We elected five members: Ray Bertram (gone), Steve Sudduth (gone), Len Linville (gone), Dave Kennelly (gone), and me, Amy Stinson (still here).
The HOA was already tangled in a lawsuit with three homeowners over satellite dishes exceeding one meter when we took over—we inherited that mess. The developer handed us $20,000 as seed money, and since I was the secretary (yes, I know!), I ended up with all the “stuff” to manage. We held meetings at either Steve’s or Ray’s home, and our first revelation was stark: the $150 annual fee was nowhere near enough to run the HOA. When we raised this with the homeowners, it didn’t go over well. Instead of hiring an HOA management company—which, in hindsight, we probably should have—we decided to self-manage to “save money”.
Len, our treasurer, took charge of the pool since he had one in his backyard. I was tasked with tracking down who lived in the neighborhood so Len could bill them for HOA fees. We scraped by, barely covering the bills with no savings to speak of. Reserves weren’t even on the table, especially given the age of our assets. We couldn’t afford to close the pool professionally the first year, and in spite of Len’s experience in pool closing, we lost some pipes and other damage.
I left the board in 1995 when the majority decided to support an 8-screen multiplex movie theater planned right behind my house. The theater itself didn’t bother me as much as the traffic concerns—crowded evenings and weekends when neighbors would want to head out for shopping or errands. I argued with the board about it, but when they voted to back the zoning change, I couldn’t stay. So, I joined a group fiercely opposed to the theater moving in across the street. I was relieved not to be on the board when they publicly supported the zoning change—it was just them against us. My friends and I rallied 150 people to our cause, marking my first time on the wrong side of the HOA while winning in a zoning change.
My next encounter with the HOA came in 1999, after a particularly brutal snowstorm left everyone on edge. Some board members were furious and wanted to remove the then-president, which was within their rights. However, they also removed him as a board member—a mistake, since board members and officers aren’t the same. In our HOA, only the president must be a board member; other officers can serve without being a homeowner, much less a board member. I explained to the board that they could remove the president from his role but not from the board, and they ignored me. I raised the issue again, pleading for his reinstatement, but they dismissed me. Frustrated, I initiated the process to remove the board members responsible for this mess. I quickly gathered signatures from 43 homes and submitted them to the secretary to call a special meeting. When that didn’t happen, I organized the meeting myself at a local hotel’s conference room. By an overwhelming majority, those board members were voted out. At another special meeting, we elected an entirely new board, and I was appointed a member after one resigned.
It took six months to unfreeze the funds because the ousted board refused to step away from the bank accounts. Once we regained control, it took another six months to sort out who we owed. It was a disaster. By then, the pool was in shambles, the landscaping was neglected after years of no care, and we had no money to address the damage. To justify the steep fee increase needed, I hired a company to conduct a reserve study. In 2001, it was determined that a $350 annual fee was necessary to properly fund the neighborhood. I then hired a management company and stepped down from the board. Afterward, a new group of directors took over and decided to ignore any reasonable reserve funding schedule, which is why our parking lot now has 3-inch gaps.
We hobbled along until 2012, when a new group managed to join the board—people who had never attended a meeting or voted for a board member at an annual meeting. This happened in February. By July, it was painfully clear they had no idea what they were doing. They failed to start the irrigation, leaving everything in the front yards either dead or dying. They also canceled the landscaping crew, resulting in weeds growing two to three feet tall at all our entrances. People were furious, so we launched another effort to remove the board. The meeting took place at Southport Presbyterian Church in their choir room, where more than 100 people showed up and voted that board out. It took a lawyer’s letter to convince them they’d been ousted. By then, we had a management company in place, and they largely took over—which was fine, though we remained seriously underfunded.
Come 2020, someone in the neighborhood contacted me and asked me to run again because the board was showing preferential treatment, which no one can accuse me of, so I ran and got beck on the board. It’s been a wild ride since then.