Tennessee Court of Appeals issues opinion that resolves another obscure issue under Foreign Judgment Act.

Last year, I wrote a post called Judgment Creditors are Limited to the terms of their Foreign Judgments, which cited a Tennessee Court of Appeals case styled The Wolf Organization, Inc. v. TNG Contractors, LLC.

The point of that opinion was that a judgment creditor seeking to domesticate a foreign judgment under the Uniform Enforcement of Foreign Judgments Act (Tenn. Code Ann. §§ 26-6-101 to-108) would be limited to the actual amount of the foreign judgment. In Wolf, the issue was that the creditor was asking for the judgment amount plus more post-judgment attorney fees to be allowed. The Wolf Court said that the claim for additional attorney’s fees was a separate claim.

I appreciated this case, since it provided resolution of an obscure, but common, issue under the Tennessee Foreign Judgment Act.

Well, a little more than a year later, the Wolf litigants are back at it, with another interesting issue. The latest is Friday’s opinion, The Wolf Organization, Inc. v. TNG Contractors, LLC, M202000093COAR3CV (Tenn. App. Aug. 21, 2020).

The new issue? If the foreign judgment provides for a specific post-judgment rate of interest, but the Order enrolling the foreign judgment doesn’t mention interest, what happens?

The Court makes two useful observations:

  1. Regardless of whether the new Order says anything about post-judgment interest, all judgments are automatically entitled to post-judgment interest.
  2. But, in the absence of a specific statement or order about the amount of post-judgment interest in the enrollment Order, the rate of interest is just the Tennessee statutory rate, found at Tenn. Code Ann. § 47-14-121.

My take-aways from this opinion:

  1. Details matter. If you think you will need it in the future, include it in the text of the Order. An order from a court will always be the most important pleading you’ll draft, and a smart lawyer will think about all the things she will need from this order and work backwards.
  2. Are Orders always required? Under the Foreign Judgment statute, an order is not expressly required. Instead, under Tenn. R. Civ. P. 3A.04, the Clerk simply “enrolls” the original judgment after 30 days after service.

Sure, the Wolf creditor could have avoided all of this with a more detailed Order; could they have avoided all this by not filing any order? Maybe.

Also, following the first Wolf opinion, the creditor needed to go back to the other state to get an award of attorneys fees. Couldn’t the creditor also get a judgment for post-petition interest at the higher rate and then come back to Tennessee?

Either way, it’s an interesting case on a rarely litigated statutory scheme.

I quit my law firm. Click to Learn More…

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve enjoyed telling people “I quit my job.” Because it sounds really dramatic.

It sounds less exciting when they realize that I just switched to a different law firm.

As seen in the Nashville Post on Monday, I left Bone McAllester to build the new Nashville office for Harris Shelton, a 60-lawyer firm based in Memphis.

But, trust me, after nearly 13 years at Bone, where I was a partner, where I was on the firm’s Board of Directors, where everybody knew me for my work, where I had the really-big-awesome-lawyer office (decorated with a custom painting of a shirtless Rev. Al Green), where I knew where the secret stash of M&Ms were hidden…

Well, it feels really dramatic to me.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve developed a new morning routine. I tend to wake up, involuntarily, at 4:45 a.m. or so, to worry about whether it was the right choice and about all the work to be done to build something. Opening bank accounts. Picking office space. Hiring staff. Hiring lawyers. And, of course, doing the legal work for all the clients. And by “wake up, involuntarily,” I really mean “freak out” about what’s next.

And, usually, around 5:30 a.m. or so, I get up, and I get to work on it.

Early on, I confided in one of my best friends (also, a lawyer) about my new early morning routine, and he laughed and said, “Well, you only have one option now: Success.”

So, here we are. Welcome to Day 13 of my efforts to build the better law firm.

What does this look like to me? My plan isn’t to re-invent the wheel, but to incorporate all the best parts of the firms that I admire already, and also incorporate the lessons that we’ve learned during COVID about technology and the practice of law.

I want to build a team of awesome lawyers and also awesome people. The greatest compliment that I give to other lawyers is that “I’d trust them with my life.” That means they’re smart, competent lawyers, but, also, that they care. It’s not just about billable hours or paperwork. A lawsuit might be the biggest crisis of a client’s life. I want to surround myself with attorneys who understand that and treat their responsibility to the clients accordingly. Who say to clients: “You can worry less now. Your problem is now my problem.”

I want a diverse team. Many law firms are run by old white guys, for other old white guys. This isn’t that. I want to be intentional about growth, and I, like my clients, want a team of professionals that looks like the community we serve. For years, I’ve fought against “manels” when I’ve been asked to speak at CLEs. Now that I get to build a law office, I’m guided by those same principles.

I want a community-minded team. I got a little hot last October, with my post asking lawyers “October is Pro Bono Month in Tennessee, and what have you done?” As lawyers, we have so much power to help under-privileged communities, but, too often, we get appointed to fancy-pants non-profit boards and think we’re doing pro bono. If you want a spot on my team, get ready to roll up your sleeves and work at legal clinics and expungement clinics. Make the world better.

I want a team that supports each other and holds each other accountable. This is going to be a team. If you have a trial you’re terrified about, I’ll go with you. If you have a pro bono cause that you’re passionate about, I’ll volunteer with you. I need you to do the same for me. Need help moving? Sigh. That too.

So, I probably got you with the dramatic headline, right? My departure at Bone has been as non-dramatic as you could imagine. Before I left, I wrote notes for all my fellow coworkers. Here’s the one I left to the newest associate:

It’s part career-advice, and also part recruiting pitch.

Will collection on unpaid private school tuition bills be a big news story in 2021? Probably.

In late July, I noticed the television ads by the Nashville Catholic Schools during the morning news, confidently advertising that their schools would be open for in-person classes the 2020-21 school year.

The first few times, I wondered if it was a coincidence that the ads were being rolled out while public schools were struggling with the decision of whether to re-open for in-person classes during the COVID pandemic.

Then, the weekend after public schools started their online-only reopening, the private schools’ messaging got a lot less subtle:

Gone were the images of sweet kids in their school uniforms.

These new ads featured a frustrated mom, dealing with a pesky kid with a tablet in her little hands, bothering the mom for help with school work while the mom tried to work from home. But, as the ad showed, once the mom signed her kid up and sent her off to in-person school at the private school, however, all was good.

At the end of the day, a private school is a business, right? This is a marketing technique called “FUD,” which means “fear, uncertainty and doubt” and is evoked intentionally in order to put a competitor at a disadvantage. In short, the private schools knew that public school parents were terrified about the start of the new school year, had no idea what to do, and the ads were deployed the weekend after Metro re-opened to provide some answers.

The campaign has worked in my neighborhood. My local school’s Parent-Teacher Organization has been decimated by defections. Seriously, I might be the new PTO president by default and not even realize it. We’ve had so many kids and their parents opt out of our (awesome) school.

But, as colleges across the country all over America are realizing this week, promises of in-person learning can be hard to keep.

As a collections lawyer, I have to wonder if parents, who were enticed by the promise of in-person learning, will be unhappy with their decision (and the exorbitant monthly tuition costs) if in-person classes are suspended. Will this unhappiness result in defaults in tuition payments?

During the last recession, I represented a handful of Nashville’s private schools in collection matters. It was not an easy task, as I wrote about in this 2011 blog post, More Than Just Legal Expense: The Unexpected Hassles of Pursuing Collection of Unpaid Debt. In that post, I said:

I was reminded of this [difficulty] when I read this [then recent] Tennessean article about lawsuits filed by Nashville private schools to collect on unpaid tuition. I was doubly reminded about the “hassle” part when I scanned the comments, with the schools’ dirty laundry getting aired for the world to see.

The school is perfectly within its rights to seek payment of past due amounts, but collections can bring out the worst in people, especially in this economy.

In 2009 and 2010, I issued a number of demand letters to parents for unpaid tuition, and, wowza, the responses I got were not pretty. The parents complained about everything imaginable. I sent probably 50 letters, but I talked the school out of filing any lawsuits. Life was too short to have to have to deal with those sorts of fights in small claims court.

So, if the promises of in-person schooling end up not coming true during the global pandemic, will parents pull their kids out? Maybe. Does the standard annual contract have a provision that keeps the parents obligated to repay the full tuition? Probably.

Should the school sue? See my 2011 post about that.

This will be a developing issue in 2021. This is the first time that many of those parents are incurring the $2,000 to $4,000 a month fees, and they may not have anticipated the huge budget impact it will have. If the pandemic takes a harder turn–whether it results in online only classes or even a parent’s job loss–will those parents be willing (or able) to stay enrolled and current on tuition?

How a Dispute over a CBGB documentary shows the dangers of not going to Court.

A few weeks ago, the New York Times told the story of filmmaker Amos Poe, who filmed historic shows at CBGB in New York City, getting footage of early shows by Blondie, Talking Heads, and the Ramones.

The article is titled “His Film Is a Punk Classic, but the Credits Now Roll Without Him,” and it’s not a happy story. In short, today, Poe gets hardly any credit for his visionary role in recognizing the significance of the time and the people he was shooting and creating what some call a classic punk rock story.

That’s because he lost his rights and ownership to the film to a business partner, in an unpaid debt lawsuit. Poe says that he couldn’t afford a lawyer and, in the end, “skipped the court date.” At trial, the Judge found the debt to be about $6,500 (but with $43,000 in legal fees).

During the collections process, the judgment creditor was able to sell the copyright (to itself) via an execution sale, including ownership of Poe’s four films (which sold for $10 each).

Per the New York Times, Debbie Harry commented “What a farce that anyone else should claim his inspirational film.”

Here, there are a number of take-aways.

First, what the judgment creditor did here was valid and allowed under collection law. A judgment creditor can seize all sorts of assets of the judgment debtor, including these intellectual property rights (which are treated as personal property under many states’ laws, including Tennessee).

Plus, the ultimate sales price was only a small fraction of the value of the property being sold, most likely because no bidders appeared at any asset sale–and the creditor got ownership for its very low opening bid.

Second, there were so many things Poe could have done to protect his assets. File a list of exemptions. Sell the IP rights himself. Go to court on his court date (which I called one of the worst mistakes a debtor can make).

It’s a sad story, but it happens every day for debtors all across the country.

Should the Bankruptcy Code be changed to provide rent relief? Maybe, says the New York Times.

I represent a lot of landlords all over Tennessee. I also represent a lot of Tennessee small businesses who are, invariably, tenants.

Since COVID-19 hit, I’ve probably read 60 different leases. Sometimes, I’m looking at force majeure provisions or for ambiguities that would provide an argument against payment of rent. Other times, I am reading those same provisions (different leases) hoping for the opposite outcome.

Over the last 4 months, when scheduling my client calls, I’ve joked that “I do all my calls with my tenants in the morning, and I do all the landlord calls in the afternoon. I need to remember which argument to make.”

Even by lawyer standards, it’s rare to see such a equal distribution of misery on both sides of an issue.

So, today, when I read this New York Times Op-Ed, “The One Change That Could Save Your Neighborhood Stores,” I appreciated the generally even-handed approach to this nuanced topic.

The issue facing tenants?

[T]here’s no blueprint for how small-business owners should deal with their landlords during an economy-toppling pandemic.

Here’s one option: ignore your landlord and plan on resuming rent payments when sales hopefully improve, and try to not get evicted in the meantime. Another option? Stay current on rent and pray that the economy recovers before you run out of cash.

Neither one of these options are really good, but the tenant doesn’t have any better options. Making matters worse, the Bankruptcy Code isn’t much help, unless the lease assumption statute gets changed, to provide relief to tenants:

One possible solution is that Congress temporarily change bankruptcy law so that small businesses can be allowed to pay their landlords more reasonable amounts until the pandemic is behind us.

Some quick background: Under the Bankruptcy Code, a Chapter 11 debtor can generally stop paying its creditors during the time the case is pending and, even after a plan of reorganization is confirmed, that plan may provide drastically modified (reduced) payments to its creditors.

That’s not the case with landlords, though: Under 11 U.S.C. Section 363 of the Bankruptcy Code, landlords are entitled to demand their full monthly rent due the entire time, and, in order for a lease to be included in a bankruptcy plan, the landlord must be paid current. Long story short, a tenant’s bankruptcy filing is a temporary speed bump for landlords, but the path to payment in full for a landlord is pretty direct.

As a result, many landlords have been aggressive during the pandemic, emboldened by state and federal law. The article mentions that many landlords are starting to see the writing on the wall (and that, maybe, there aren’t any replacement tenants) and are considering “pay what you can” agreements.

States have offered limited help to tenants, in the form of moratoriums on evictions (though such efforts are not reducing or stopping the financial payment obligations for the accruing rent). Plus, deep-pocketed large retailers are cooking up some innovative legal arguments (the article cites Valentino and Victoria’s Secret, but it could have also cited the Nashville lawsuit filed by The Palm Restuarant against the Nashville Hilton).

To the landlord’s defense, the article notes that landlords, themselves, may be small entrepreneurs with mortgages of their own and who depend on the rental income stream. The article advocates for tax cuts for commercial lessors.

Again, the article presents a fairly even-handed consideration of a “no win” situation. If the landlords win, then thousands of small businesses go under in the next 6 months.

As for the landlords, it’s just one of many problems facing them during the pandemic. This Reuters article’s title says it all: Who still needs the office? U.S. companies start cutting space.

341: Bar Exams, Change of Plans, Buy a Bankruptcy Code

The Bar Exam has been canceled (sort of). July is usually bar exam time in Tennessee (as well as all over the country). Like nearly everything else about our lives, the bar exam is going to be drastically different in Tennessee in 2020.

As a result of this Order, Tennessee bar applicants now–for the first time ever–have the option of taking a private, online exam. As you can see from the responses to the Tennessee Supreme Court Justice’s tweet (really, people?), no decision is going to please everybody.

It’s either too much of a departure from tradition (for the older crowd) or too little of a change to the status quo (for the progressives).

Twitter can be pretty awful.

Speaking of how it’s impossible to make everybody happy. As law firms are trying new models as they pivot into the new world, this tweet spoke to me on a DNA level:

This is absolutely true. A law firm is generally full of highly critical (in a good way), smart, risk-adverse know-it-alls (in a bad way). I’ve seen hotly contested arguments about what soda to stock in the law firm kitchen. Good luck with your nimble pivots, managing partners.

Diversity Matters. The past few months have provided eye-opening lessons about privilege and opportunity for so many of us. Especially those in leadership positions at law firms.

In early June, I started to receive all the Black Lives Matters marketing e-blasts, so I know that many law firms recognize the PR benefit of supporting this movement.

But, I also know these law firms and judge them on their actions (as well as their words).

Law firms, what are you doing about diversity? And not just the 2020 associate class. I’m talking about the future years’ classes too. What support are you providing to nurture and provide opportunities to current law students? What about college students from non-privileged backgrounds who want to be lawyers? What about your staff (both present and future)? What educational or institutional policies are you introducing to your practices in response? What are you doing to support the movement in your community?

Separately, am I–personally–doing everything that I can? Are you?

Bankruptcy, Bankruptcy, Bankruptcy. I posted last week about the starring role that bankruptcy lawyers will play in the coming months. Others agree:

Bankruptcies are heating up in the Middle District of Tennessee. Every day, I’m getting calls for representation on a new creditor bankruptcy case filed in Nashville.

Buy a Bankruptcy Code book, young lawyers.

The Palm sues the Nashville Hilton over losses related to COVID

Late Thursday, the Palm Restaurant sued the Nashville Hilton, arguing it should not have to pay full rent during the pandemic and especially not for time periods when the Hilton hotel itself wasn’t open.

It’s an interesting argument, about issues that will be litigated throughout the country over the next few years.

Generally, in Nashville (and everywhere else), closures related to COVID-19 haven’t given tenants much factual or legal basis for avoid rent payments. That’s because most commercial leases–more than anything–make payment of rent such a supreme duty under the lease that anything short of total physical destruction of the premises doesn’t excuse payment.

The Palm’s Lease at the Hilton is no different.

The Complaint alleges that “[t]he Lease provides for a rent abatement in the event that the Premises is damaged as a result of casualty,” citing Section 23.1 of the Lease. Specifically, that provision requires that the Property “be damaged by fire or other casualty” and has the typical murky text that you’d expect in a landlord-drafted lease that assumes the premises were physically damaged.

(Side note: The Lease also has a “Force Majeure” provision that is so iron-clad that The Palm doesn’t even cite it in the Complaint.)

As in so many of these cases, the million dollar question is: Does the COVID-19 virus cause “physical damage”?

The Palm takes a novel approach, in part, arguing that the Hilton’s voluntary shut-down caused the losses at the restaurant, since The Palms’ decision to initially lease the space was so heavily dependent on the existence of a thriving Hilton hotel.

“Pursuant to the Lease, the Hilton was and is required to operate a first-class business hotel…[and] provide the Palm with access to Common Areas…” As part of the Lease, the Palm’s dependence on the Hilton is evidenced by the facts that: Palm allowed Hilton guests to charge meals to their rooms; the Hilton heavily advertised the Palm in the hotel and in the rooms; and the Palm agreed to identify the Hilton in its own marketing.

Then, COVID hit. On March 12, the SEC tournament was shut down. On March 20, Metro shut down in-person dining. On March 22, the State of Tennessee took similar action. In response, on March 22, the Palm closed to in-house dining.

But, the lawsuit alleges, “[a]t no point in time since March 1, 2020 has the Hilton been forced to cease operations due to a state or local governmental order. … Despite the fact that it was under no obligation to do so, the Hilton shut down on March 24, 2020. …Upon information and belief, despite its management company having cash on hand necessary to support ongoing operations, the Hilton remained closed during April, May, and part of June.”

The Palm re-opened to 50% capacity on May 11 (as allowed by local and state law), but the Hilton didn’t re-open until June 8, 2020. The Palm argues that it was denied the benefit of foot traffic from the Hilton, marketing and promotional benefits, and access to Common Areas.

When the lawsuit was filed, the Palm had not paid rent for April, May, June, or July 2020 (including CAM charges for space at the Hilton). The Hilton has refused to discount any of that rent, despite the Palm’s requests for a discount.

This lawsuit asks the Davidson Chancery County Chancery Court to provide “declaratory relief” and declare that The Palm is not in default and is not required to pay April, May, June, and July 2020 rent (as well as get back some of the rent paid in March).

This case raises nearly all of the issues the commercial landlord-tenant bar will be fighting in the near future. Plus, this one has the added awkwardness of two inter-dependent, adjacent businesses being involved in direct litigation.

This may be the first notable COVID-related landlord tenant lawsuit filed in Nashville, and it’ll be one to watch over the next few weeks, months, and, gulp, year.

TL;DR: The lawsuit asks whether the Hilton’s decision to shut its own operations down creates a factual or legal defense to some or all of the amounts due from The Palm under the Lease.

Second Lady A sues Original Lady A in Nashville: Interesting Legal Issues for Interesting Times.

I’ll start by saying this: Lady Antebellum’s heart seemed to be in the right place.

As you will recall, last month, the band announced that it was changing its name to “Lady A,” which was in recognition of the racially insensitive history of the term “Antebellum.”

The news was applauded, in light of the global outpouring of support for the Black Lives Matter movement and the growing awareness of how little so many of us understand about what it means to be a non-white member of American culture. It’s not cool for a white country music band to be walking around with Antebellum in their name.

But, then, you know what happened next. Anita White, an African American gospel and blues singer in Seattle–and who has long performed as “Lady A”–objected to the name-change.

Side-note: Did nobody do a google search on any of this?

Per Second Lady A’s twitter, the parties had a number of conversations–all friendly (see above)–which became more complicated, as Original Lady A began to recognize that her interests may not be entirely at heart in the band’s move.

Then, well, I’ll let Second Lady A say it: “Today we are sad to share that our sincere hope to join together with Anita White in unity and common purpose has ended.”

To be clear, that date of the end was July 8, 2020, when Second Lady A filed a lawsuit in Nashville federal court, asking the District Court to grant them the right to use the trademark. The lawsuit says that it isn’t asking for money, but, still, it’s a fairly aggressive move. Apparently, Original Lady A asked for $10 million as part of the conversations.

This isn’t Trademark Rights 101 , but I follow really smart lawyers on twitter. Such as this twitter chain by Alexandra Roberts, an Intellectual Property law professor, who analyzes this situation top to bottom.

It’s a really fascinating view into the thought process that a court will consider, both on the facts and relevant law. Read the whole thing…you’ll be smarter by the end of it.

Another issue that I thought was interesting is this: Did Original Lady A submit herself to jurisdiction in Nashville by participating in phone and Zoom video calls, when Second Lady A were physically in Tennessee? Yikes, if that’s the law. Professor Roberts suggests that may be the alleged basis.

So, two quick-takeaways.

(1) This is a terrible look for Second Lady A. Maybe they’re correct as a matter of law, and I’ve just got more to learn about IP law. But, again, what a terrible look for Second Lady A. I tell my clients this all the time: You may be right here, but are there other factors to consider. Should we keep looking for a middle-ground resolution?

(2) I can’t wait for more information on the basis for jurisdiction in Nashville, Tennessee for this lawsuit.

Nashville Post: The Bankruptcies are Coming, but Where are the Bankruptcy Attorneys?

If a creditor rights attorney appears in a movie or TV show, he is generally the bad guy who galvanizes the stars of the movie to assemble a dance competition to save the community center from foreclosure.

In fact, for a long time, my LinkedIn bio described my creditor’s rights bankruptcy practice as:

This is an area of law they don’t make movies about. In fact, the only movie about creditor bankruptcy attorneys that I know of is Heart and Souls, a 1993 movie starring Robert Downey, Jr. In that movie, his childhood guardian angels come back to Earth to re-visit him as an adult and are horrified by what he does for a living. Well, that’s my job.

As a result, insolvency attorneys tend to be slightly self-conscious about our role in the legal ecosystem. When our law firms’ clients host open houses at their glitzy new facilities or shiny, over-budget restaurants, it’s the bankruptcy attorneys standing by the bar who eyeball it all and wonder how much all it cost and whether they can pay for it.

(Note: I’m actually kidding about this…the bankruptcy attorneys actually never get invited to grand openings or fun events. Kidding.)

So, in light of all that, you can imagine how proud I was that the Nashville Post ran a magazine article this week showcasing the starring role to be played by bankruptcy attorneys in the coming months and years.

Step aside, corporate mergers and acquisitions counsel, this is a job for a Bankruptcy Lawyer.

It’s a well-done article, with spot-on analysis of the issues facing our local economy. This quote from local debtor counsel Nancy King really nails the current mindset:

Most companies right now are either in the stunned phase, or they’re in the ‘I want to work it out with my bank’ phase, or possibly the ‘I’ve gotten a PPP loan, I think I might make it’ phase. … When all that comes to an end, I think Chapter 11 is going to end up being an option for a lot of those companies.

One of the most interesting aspects of the article is the narrative that there aren’t enough bankruptcy lawyers in Nashville.

It’s absolutely true.

Nashville is widely known as having a sophisticated bankruptcy bar, due to the wide range of complex cases that get filed in our district (both consumer and commercial), our really smart judges, and a deep roster of sophisticated bankruptcy lawyers.

Nevertheless, when the Middle Tennessee economy rebounded so quickly from the Great Recession, local law firms simply didn’t restaff their bankruptcy practice groups. Instead, from 2013 to 2019, the smart young lawyers went into real estate, development, and corporate work.

As a result, most Nashville law firms have bankruptcy practices that are, basically, composed of the same bankruptcy lawyers who steered the ship in the last recession. Sort of like the 2012-13 Boston Celtics–a good team, but lots of veterans and hardly any young prospects.

We’ve known this is coming for a long time. In fact, at the 2019 Bankruptcy Lawyer Holiday Party (yes, it’s a real thing), the three most popular party guests were the three new faces (all under the age of 30). They were subjected to an endless barrage of business cards, lunch invites, and recruiting pitches that night.

In fact, one of those young lawyers has already been poached away by an out-of-state law firm that has one of the largest bankruptcy practice groups in the country.

So, my advice to young law school graduates (or students)?

Learn Bankruptcy. Read the Bankruptcy Code. It’s literally an inch thick. There’s always another recession around the corner.

You’ll have a great (and long) career.

Also, while you’re quarantined at home, watch Heart and Souls. It really is a fun, under-appreciated movie.

New Chancery lawsuit spotlights struggles for Airbnb companies in Nashville

As you’d expect, COVID-19 and the related travel restrictions have had a catastrophic impact on the travel and hospitality industry. In Nashville, rental income for once wildly-lucrative Airbnb properties evaporated in an instant.

Consider Stay Alfred, a hospitality start-up based in Spokane, Washington that had 2,500 units in 33 cities, which closed its doors in April and is now subject to a receivership action.

In Nashville (and in Memphis), Stay Alfred had a number of buildings where it controlled nearly all the units, such as the shiny 505 Tower in downtown Nashville, as well as other prime locations in both cities. By April, Stay Alfred had left those buildings entirely.

Now, it appears that Sonder USA, Inc. may be headed toward a similar fate. Sonder manages over 12,000 rental units in 28 cities, generally for short and medium term rentals. In its most recent efforts to obtain private equity, Sonder provided a valuation of $1.3 billion.

Yesterday, in Davidson County Chancery Court, a Georgia developer filed a breach of contract lawsuit against Sonder over its failure to take possession of 101 units in a residential building in Nashville’s Hillsboro Village, located at 1620 21st Avenue South.

In this deal, the Plaintiff-developer agreed to purchase the 101 units in December 2019, many of which were already rented out to long term tenants. As those existing tenants either left or were forced out, the developer would then lease those units to Sonder, which Sonder would then manage as short term rentals. Under the Lease, Sonder would pay the developer annual rent of “$2,641,387.32.”

What could go wrong in Nashville real estate in 2020, right?

Per the Complaint, in April 2020, when Sonder was scheduled to take possession of the first batch of units, Sonder immediately went into default. Sonder claimed defenses of force majeure and impossibility of performance and frustration of purpose.

When Sonder failed to take possession or pay, Plaintiff filed this action, seeking $2 million in current and future rents. This is going to be an interesting case, since the parties seemed to go into this venture, jointly, in December. If so, then why does all of the risk shift to the lessor-defendant? Does the nature of the business relationship mean that Plaintiff and Defendant both should bear the risks?

I live in Hillsboro Village, so this one is a bit personal for me. This is my neighborhood, which is a bustling area of families, Vanderbilt workers (school and hospital), and college kids. It’s a residential community, not a vacation or party destination.

Housing is scarce. And getting more and more expensive.

As somebody who has lived in this neighborhood for over ten years, it’s irritating that these out-of-town companies created a business model to convert limited, scarce housing assets into STR properties by forcing residents out of their leases and out of the building.

Think about if you’re a grad student or doctor at Vandy, and you love your apartment. It’s right there next to your school/work, next to Luke Bryan’s steakhouse (which really is delightful), and next to Dragon Park. Sounds great, right? But, when you get to month 10-11 of your lease, you get a notice from the new owner that they want you out; the entire building is converting to vacation rentals.

I’m sure the developer would say that the “market dictates the highest and best use of property.” Let’s hope our new economy sends its own message to these opportunistic developers who want to convert our residential space into a hotel / vacation rentals. One that our local government is clearly afraid to send.

Maybe an empty building where all the long term tenants were forced out will send that message.

For what it’s worth, that message may have been received. As of the time of this posting, a great number of the units in Village 21 are now available for long term leases.