Helen Ackley saw dead people.
Three dead people, to be precise. She claims they visited her in her Nyack, N.Y., home: two female ghosts — both of whom wore hoop dresses — and a male ghost, who wore a Revolutionary War uniform.
Nevermind that the house was built in the late 19th century and the American Revolution occurred a century prior, Ackley insisted her guests were very real; she even wrote about them for both Readers' Digest and a local newspaper.
Some Nyack residents thought Ackley's houseguests were a product of her imagination, but the buyer of her home, Manhattan transplant Jeffrey Stambovsky, took the ghosts very seriously.
He ended up suing Ackley and her realtor Richard Ellis for failure to disclose the "phantasmal reputation" of the home before he had agreed to buy it in 1989 for $650,000 with a $32,500 down payment.
In theory, disclosure laws are supposed to protect home sellers from buyers' lawsuits and inform the homebuyer of any physical defects that could hurt the value of the home.
Many states, however, have taken disclosure laws a step further, requiring home sellers to disclose any "stigmas" attached to the property. (A stigma could include a nearby women's shelter, pesky ghosts, if it had been the scene of a violent crime, or even if the home seller had AIDS.)
But what most buyers forget is that the broker is actually working for the seller.
Legally, sellers should disclose all "material facts" (a euphemism for physical or non-physical problems with the house, such as whether it is built on the site of an Indian graveyard or that the last five owners all died mysterious, horrible deaths) about a house, they don't always.
The reason for skating over a house's unpleasant history is, of course, that such information might drive away some buyers and soften its fair market value.
In some states, such as California, disclosure laws have a statute of limitations. For example, buyers must be informed of a "material fact" about the house if it occurred within the past three years.
If, however, a particularly brutal gangland slaying took place there five years before, the broker and the seller don't have to say a thing.
Good Stigma, Bad Stigma
There are no hard and fast rules about disclosing property stigmas, and disclosure laws vary from state to state.
In general, home sellers should disclose any pertinent information that could have an impact on the value of the home. The problem, however, is that rarely do material events physically damage the house.
In most cases, the stigmas are purely psychological. It comes down to the fact that many buyers wouldn't feel comfortable living in a house where a murder or other such crime had taken place.
The house and its valuation are only innocent bystanders that have also been victimized by the material event.
In some cases, of course, homebuyers don't flinch at gruesome facts, particularly if celebrities were involved.
When the bank foreclosed on alleged murderer O.J. Simpson's Brentwood, Calif., estate in 1997 (which included an Olympic-size pool, a tennis court and a waterfall), it was auctioned off to Hawthorne Savings & Loan for $2.6 million (considered a $500,000 discount).
Later, it was resold to an investment banker for nearly $4 million, only after Hawthorne Savings & Loan rejected a lower bid for about $3.2 million.