Short-Term Rentals Have Become a Big Business in Denver — But Neighbors Think They’re a Big Pain
No room at the inn on Christmas Eve? No problem: You can still snag a “luxury loft in the heart of downtown,” as well as a “Curtis Park charmer” and a “cozy Capitol Hill apartment.” These are last-minute holiday miracles you wouldn’t have dreamed of finding a decade ago — but that was before Airbnb and other short-term rentals moved in on Denver. But now some residents are wondering if a lack of rules governing such rentals are turning this town into a motel hell.
In the spring of 2008, George Mayl discovered that the owners of the house next door to his in the quiet Cory-Merrill neighborhood of southeast Denver were renting the property out to guests for short-term stays of under thirty days — which is illegal under Denver’s current zoning codes.
Those guests did not make good neighbors. Mayl remembers the stink of pot that hung in the air the morning after short-term renters had stayed up late smoking and talking in the back yard. Then there was the time that eighteen members of a baseball team rented the house and took over the block, cutting it off to traffic for an impromptu ballgame in the street. Mayl recalls only one group of guests he enjoyed: a family in town for their daughter’s graduation. But that was short-lived.
“It was absolutely devastating,” Mayl says of living next to a short-term rental. “A lot of issues with pot, noise, alcohol, etc. Worse than a bad neighbor, because they came here not to rest, but to party…. I called the police, but how many times do you want to call the police? You’re taking them off their patrols. You call 311, you might as well just forget about it.”
On many several occasions, Mayl attempted to contact the property owners, who lived only a half-mile away on South Harrison Lane, in a house they also used as a short-term rental; he even dropped by when they were getting the neighboring house ready for the next round of guests, but they were “surly,” he remembers.
So instead, every time a new occupant moved in next door, Mayl called Neighborhood Inspection Services, a division of Denver Development Services, but an inspector could rarely come right away. And if the inspector did find people in the house, Mayl says, they’d been cued to say they were staying for more than thirty days — which is legal in Denver. To combat that, he would place a newspaper next to a car’s license plate and snap a picture, to show the high turnover of visitors on his block. Still, it took over a year for Mayl and the Cory-Merrill inspection representative to build a solid case.
When they’d finally gathered enough evidence, they took it to a hearing of Denver’s Board of Adjustment for Zoning Appeals in October 2010. The room was packed with opponents of the rental, including Mayl and two other neighbors, as well as a representative from Inter-Neighborhood Cooperation, the umbrella group for more than a hundred neighborhood associations in Denver; they were armed with six letters of opposition (including one from INC and another from the Cory-Merrill Neighborhood Association) and 35 petitions against the property. No one spoke in favor of the property owners, who were issued a cease-and-desist order by the city. They soon sold the house next to Mayl and moved out of town.
“They ceased being neighbors and became entrepreneurs, with no regard for their neighbors’ concerns,” remembers Mayl. And while the retired vet won that battle, he’s still involved in the fight against short-term rentals in Denver.
Although Denver’s zoning code prohibits residents from renting an apartment, home, room in their home or secondary property for fewer than thirty days, thousands break that law by offering their properties as short-term rentals (STR). The practice has become so common — and the complaints about it so loud — that Denver City Council will soon consider an ordinance to regulate the city’s sharing economy, with a focus on STRs. Councilwoman Mary Beth Susman has been leading the charge, researching the issue and holding town halls to collect input from disgruntled neighbors and fans of STRs alike.
And STRs definitely have fans. Companies such as Airbnb, VRBO.com and TravelTHC provide property owners and renters with a platform through which they can post a room or property that travelers can rent for a short-term stay; travelers appreciate the ease and value of the rentals. The platforms give hosts a page where they can offer a profile of their properties, describing the location, amenities, ambience and whatever else they might want to share. (Travelers coming to Colorado are often interested in whether a place is pot-friendly.) The property owners can set their own price and offer daily, weekly or monthly rates.
VRBO.com was the first company to formalize this part of the sharing economy. Founded by a husband-and-wife team in 1996, it was bought by Homeaway (an online vacation-rental marketplace based in Austin, Texas) in 2005. Hosts on VRBO.com are exposed to 77 million travelers each month; the top 5 percent make an average of $65,000 a year, according to VRBO.com. The company offers hosts different levels of subscriptions, starting at $399 and rising to $1299 a year, depending on services; it also charges a fee of up to 10 percent of each night’s rental. Most VRBO rentals are full houses or apartments.
Airbnb got its start in 2008, when Brian Chesky and roommate Joe Gebbia, both broke college students, began renting out three air mattresses in their apartment in San Francisco, where the company is now based. Today Airbnb is valued at $24 billion, according to the New York Times, and manages some two million listings in 34,000 cities in 190 countries. (By comparison, if the Marriott International and Starwood Hotels and Resorts merger goes through, it will create the world’s largest hotel company, with 1.1 million rooms in over 5,500 hotels in 100 countries.) Airbnb charges hosts a simple 3 percent of every night’s rental rate in exchange for verifying the property, listing it and providing insurance. According to a data scrape done by Colorado Public Radio in August, there are about 1,700 regular Denver listings on Airbnb; last week, an Airbnb Facebook ad featured hundreds of open spots in Denver for Christmas Eve.
On the Denver Airbnb page, visitors can choose anything from single basement rooms to whole apartments or carriage houses. Some top hits for this holiday week include an “International Microhostel” for $17 a night (also seen for $23 a night) in Glendale; it’s a luxury apartment with a shared room and a stocked fridge — and it’s 420-friendly. For $70 a night, two guests can have their own entrance to a cozy basement room described as “Bohemian chic in the Highlands.” There is no access to a kitchen, but the place does have a coffee maker, a microwave and a full-size refrigerator. Guests can smoke pot outside, but the host asks that they make sure to keep quiet after 10 p.m.
A “Bohemian chic” Airbnb listing in Denver.
airbnb.com
|
The prices go up from there, to close to a thousand bucks a night for a three-floor condo or a 7,000-square-foot home in Cherry Creek. You can have the entire Castle Marne Bed & Breakfast for $2,380 a night. And in Centennial, a seven-bedroom, five-bathroom, 420-friendly mansion is available for $5,000 a night; with a $1,200 “service fee,” a four-day holiday excursion there will run you $21,200.
In Denver, 83 percent of the hosts have just one listing, and 93 percent of those are rented out for fewer than 180 days a year, with the average unit renting for fewer than 55 nights, according to Airbnb. Alison Schumer, Airbnb’s public-affairs manager, says that many people who rent places on Airbnb are middle-class families who use the platform “to pay the bills.” In turn, she adds, guests make significant contributions to the local economy and support small businesses in the area where they are staying.
Airbnb liaisons work closely with local municipalities to craft rules that fit the needs of both Airbnb and the area, Schumer continues. “Our role is to engage our community of hosts to help policymakers develop the right rules for Denver,” she explains in an e-mail. “Effective home-sharing regulations are simple, clear and allow people to share their homes and contribute to the community.”
But some STR neighbors don’t consider those short-term-rentals much of a contribution to residential neighborhoods.
As she began to hear more and more about the sharing economy, Susman wrote an op-ed for the Denver Post in April 2014. In it, she cited many options that allow people to trade or pay for almost anything, from rides and tasks to meals and houses, and speculated about what role government should play. After that, her phone started ringing off the hook with calls from people asking the councilwoman what she was going to do about short-term rentals. An increasing number of residents were worried that their neighborhoods were turning into cheap, untaxed motel districts.
Section 11.12.2 of Denver’s zoning code details “Primary Residential Uses,” and defines household living as “residential occupancy of a ‘dwelling unit’ by a ‘single household.’” In the code, tenancy is defined on a month-to-month basis or longer — but never shorter. It recognizes a dwelling unit as a place with one or more habitable rooms used for permanent occupancy. A household is a “dwelling unit occupied by persons…living as a single non-profit housekeeping unit, including any permitted domestic employees.” Relatives are allowed, too — but not short-term renters.
In July 2014, Susman formed the Sharing Economy Task Force to tackle issues involved with Denver’s sharing economy, starting with house sharing. The task force was later folded into the city council’s Neighborhood and Planning Committee, which Susman chairs. Councilman Rafael Espinoza of District 1 in Highland is the vice-chair, and Albus Brooks of District 9, which covers downtown, RiNo and Five Points, is also on the committee. They both represent areas experiencing radical housing changes that are home to many short-term rentals. Lowry and northeast Denver also have a high number of STRs.
Currently, the only way the city knows if a house in one of those areas — or any of the 300,000 residences in Denver, for that matter — is being used for an unauthorized short-term rental is when a neighbor complains, as Mayl found out. After that, a city inspector needs to find the renters, confirm that they are not related to the property owner, and then ascertain if they are renting the dwelling for fewer than thirty days. But the city has only eighteen neighborhood inspectors, and even if one has time to visit the subject of a complaint, that inspector usually ends up leaving a note because no one is home.
That’s why Susman is working on a proposed ordinance that will make it easier for the city not only to find short-term rentals, but to make sure they adhere to certain standards. “I think it will make our residents feels safer if there is more regulation to it,” she says. “If we can identify and legitimate it, we can make sure they have things like fire extinguishers, CO2 detectors, ensure that the guests can get a hold of the host business.”
Under the proposed ordinance, Denver could require hosts to register and get a license that would come with a number that would need to be included in their online profile. That way, Denver listings could be policed. “It would be an easier enforcement process, actually,” says Susman.
Comments
Short-Term Rentals Have Become a Big Business in Denver — But Neighbors Think They’re a Big Pain — No Comments
HTML tags allowed in your comment: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>