What Developers Get Away With
In DuPage County, Illinois

A True Incident Of Corruption That Almost Destroyed A Family

A man's home is his castle, they say-- but not when a developer wants your land!
Here is the story of how a local realtor/developer, along with the county, ruined our lives.

I had my trees.

Now: imagine you are me, and you are driving home one afternoon. It is a typical beautiful spring day, giving no indication that it will be different from any other. As you approach your street, children merrily bouncing in the back of the van, you can already picture the first thing you will see: the lovely, treasured stretch of trees bordering the front of your property.

But your life is about to change.

As you turn the final corner toward home, you gasp in sudden horror and outrage. The beautiful tree line you had admired just that morning is gone! Only a pathetic line of bedraggled sticks are left. In the few hours you have been away, workers have come onto your property and mutilated your trees, reducing them to a shameful, naked row of stripped poles. And there, at the very end of the row, is a tree company truck, shielding the men who are frantically destroying the last of the 110 trees.

Problems Begin

Once an area of thriving farmland, the southeast corner of DuPage County, Illinois had become a developer's dream.  Located just twenty minutes from Chicago, the semi-rural area seemed to have something for everyone: easy access via the famous Route 66 and I-55, convenient shopping, admired schools, and a wonderful country ambience not often found so near a city.

The area had always contained several underground streams, wetlands, and high water tables.  In the late 1800s, resident farmers studied the land, then installed an intricate and brilliant series of drainage tiles to handle the water problems. These tiles worked perfectly, routing excess water into selected lowland areas and keeping fields dry. But in the 1960s, the new developers paid no attention. They carelessly broke up the tiles, filling in wetlands and ponds.  Then they paved over the ground surface so there was nowhere for the water to go.  They created a disaster waiting to happen-- and happen it did.

Soon basements and yards began flooding as water sought new routes.  Sump pumps began running 24 hours a day. One home actually sunk six inches in one year; another's foundation cracked in several places where water began to seep in.  In another basement, you could hear underground water rushing by on the other side of the foundation wall.  Yet another home had an unexpected problem: the developer had apparently not noticed -- or cared -- that the home he was building sat directly in the path of a natural wetland overflow.  Now, after a heavy rain, the new homeowner found himself with a literal stream flowing right through his below-ground family room patio doors!

One would think that with all of the water problems, the county would have been desperate to stop further irresponsible development. But they didn't.  Instead, the same county employees and engineers continued to approve subdivision after subdivision.  At that time DuPage County was rumored to be one of the most corrupt counties, and most residents took it for granted that payoffs were involved.  After all, development in this burgeoning area was big business.  Building continued at a phenomenal pace, with even more surface area paved and more drainage areas filled in.

By the late 1980s, there were only a few undeveloped parcels in the unincorporated Timberlake area, where this story occurs.  Timberlake Estates consisted of several hundred homes in the southeast corner of DuPage County.  For years, developers had tried to pry the land from the remaining six small farm owners, including me, with no luck.  But now my neighbor, an elderly widow who could no longer care for her place, was willing to sell her five acres at the unbelievably low price of $115,000.

Ms Palisoc, a newly licensed realtor and area newcomer, opened a little storefront realty company, named after her proposed new development: "Burr Oaks Realtors".    She was apparently certain that she could somehow circumvent the zoning requirements and water problems.  Ms Palisoc and Mr Van Vleck immediately began plans to fill in their half of the wetland, install a half-width street along the length of the property, and build fourteen homes on the five acres.  Apparently, neither Ms Palisoc nor Mr Van Vleck cared that their actions would force water onto neighboring properties.

In the 1960s, residents had no concept of how developers rushed in and out, leaving a mess of problems behind.   Everyone lived by the adage that people could do what they wanted with their own land, so few objected to the new subdivisions.  But the residents had learned the hard way.  Now, years later, many of them were living daily with the result of developer's greed.  They didn't plan on letting it happen again without a fight.

The Timberlake Homeowner's Association  was a developer's nightmare. This small group of homeowners was famous for their relentless battling.  They had successfully fought a proposed large-scale waste incinerator that was to be built in the nearby county forest preserve.  They had demanded cleanup of years of oil spills at the nearby Lenz chemical plant.  They were instrumental in spurring investigation of radioactive waste buried years ago in nearby Argonne National Laboratory.  This battle was even closer to home. The filling in of the wetland, planned by Palisoc and Van Vleck, threatened their own homes.  Plus, the proposed half-street, along with the requested zoning variances, would not only destroy the visual symmetry of the neighborhood, but would make it impossible for fire trucks and county road equipment to maneuver past parked cars.  And the lot sizes, once required to be one acre in size, were being proposed at less than one third that size.

But when the zoning hearing for the Burr Oaks property was held, the room was filled with area residents who vehemently protested the development-- some of them literally shaking with rage.  In preparation for the hearing, some of them had contacted the Army Corps of Engineers, alerting the Corps to the developers' intent to fill in the wetland.  Prior to the meeting, the Army Corps had examined the property and had the wetland legally designated, prohibiting any construction or alteration on that area.  That effectively cut the development land in half.    An odd county law also required that in unincorporated areas, any proposed development must have the approval of all neighboring municipalities.  Some residents had hounded those municipalities until they had gained objections to the half street and other proposed changes. 

The proposed half street was interesting.  It wasn't to be just a half-width street, it was literally half a street!  There would be no curb along the entire south length of the road.  The explanation given was that this would make it easier when they developed the  neighboring property (mine!).  Palisoc and Van Vleck were already planning for the development of my land, although they had never even approached me to ask whether I would sell!

During the hearing, residents recounted horror tales of area flooding and drainage patterns over the years.  They pointed out that the property was much too narrow for development.  The proposed new lot sizes would practically eliminate any side or back yards.  The property, residents agreed, was better suited to one or two homes, not fourteen!

By the end of the meeting, zoning officials were forced to admit that this was not a cut-and-dried development, and the proposed variances were denied-- for then. But a longer, more ruthless battle was yet to come.

How To Trick Someone Into Selling

Afterwards, the developers began casting greedy eyes in my direction.  If they could not get a lot size variance approved, they would simply have to get more land -- and mine was the only buildable adjacent property.  I began to get a taste of their tactics when a certified letter arrived from a realtor I'd never heard of.  The letter contained a notarized statement offering me several thousand dollars if I would sign the enclosed document giving them the first refusal rights on the sale of my property.  "Don't sign it!" people urged. "If you do, believe me: they'll find a way to make it so you-- or your heirs-- will have to sell."  I had no intention of signing anyway.  I'd begun to make it clear that I did not wish, under any circumstances, to sell.  After all, the property had been in my family for generations.

It wasn't hard to imagine what would happen.  They would buy the land, then suddenly realize that they hadn't wanted to build a stable after all, and sell the land to Gloria Palisoc.  I politely refused; then, on a whim, said, "You know, I've been thinking of moving to Missouri, of getting a nice farm with a running stream and lots of land..." Sure enough, a week or two later, a nice-looking couple pulled in. They "just happened to be driving by", and "saw your place, and thought we'd take a chance... ".  They had a beautiful farm in Missouri: forty acres and a lovely stream, but they were tired of living in the country.  They wanted to live in the Chicago area. Would I consider trading my land-- that part over there -- for theirs?  (They never did explain how they just "happened to be driving by" five hundred miles from home.)

After some small talk, "Mr. V." suddenly astounded me by saying, "You know, I'm willing to make you a good deal for your property.  We'll even let you stay here in your house while we build the roads and get the utilities in around you.  Then, in exchange for your land, we'll give you one of the new houses."  He spoke as if the development was a foregone conclusion.

"Why would I want to give up my house and all my land for a strange house on a tiny lot?"  I asked, genuinely perplexed.

"Well, we might be able to give you a corner lot," he offered in all seriousness.  (He never did mention who "we" were.)

Although I refused (graciously, I hope), I was stunned and later outraged.  "Mr. V." was considered our foremost champion; if he was willing to turn "turncoat", what chance was there of fighting this thing?  And what kind of people were these, to think I would trade priceless, beautiful land for an ugly suburban house on a miniscule lot?  Did they really think that one of their houses was equal in value to enough land on which to build twenty or thirty homes?  It told me a lot about how these people thought.   I could almost hear them:  "Oh, they're just some dumb farmers.   Don't worry; we'll get that land off them somehow, and we'll get it cheap.   They'll never know what hit 'em."

But I had no wish to sell my land-- any of it.  My grandparents had first purchased it as a "weekend picnic spot" long before I was born; now my own children were growing up there. I simply did not want to sell it.  The place was filled with special memories.   Someday I hoped to see grandchildren of my own running through the same fields where I had played as a child.  My own children had already learned to love the land, even keeping detailed records of the trees and small wildlife for their own homeschool and 4-H projects.

But although I hadn't even named a price, they angrily refused.  (I was later told that upon hearing my offer, David Van Vleck had become livid.  He allegedly claimed that I only made the offer to make them "put in a road and utilities for her so she can develop her land at our expense".  Apparently, he assumed that everyone thought and acted as he did, with no motive but a quick profit.)  They then presented me with a three-point ultimatum: 1) I had to donate the strip of land;  2) I had to permanently relinquish all of my rights to any utilities and easements along the proposed new road they would build on my donated land;  3) I had to sell the developers 2-1/2 acres of my property in back at a "fair" price, which they would name. 

Naturally I refused, but their harsh ultimatum made me suspicious.  It reminded me of World War II, when Hitler would present such outrageous ultimatums to neighboring countries that the countries had no choice but to refuse.  Then Hitler would march in an attack, claiming that the neighboring countries had refused to negotiate.  So, just in case Van Vleck intended to try for the zoning variances again, I sent the county a registered letter explaining my offer and Van Vleck's outright refusal.  A zoning variance was only to be considered if there were no options available, and I had provided him with an option.   He had refused without even discussing it.  My offer proved that he wasn't interested in doing things right; he merely wanted his own way.

Van Vleck's next strategy was to try and turn the community against me.  At the next homeowner's meeting, when residents objected to the proposed half-street, Van Vleck tried to turn the blame on me.   "That's the neighboring property owner's fault!" he insisted, referring to me.  "She won't sell me her land!"  But instead of the expected response, the neighbors chastised him. "Her family has lived here long before any of us," one neighbor said. "Who are you to demand that she sell her land if she doesn't want to?  She has nothing to do with your development."

Around this time, another developer purchased 2-1/2 vacant acres across the street.  Another tiny subdivision, to be called "Southmeadow", was planned.  This property also had an alleged underground stream and a large marshy area.  It, too, was too narrow for a full-width road and proper sized lots.   But, despite objections, the county approved development plans for this parcel also.   (Although on paper the two properties had different, unrelated owners, there was much in common between them.  For some reason, the county often seemed to handle the two developments as if they were one.)

Driving Miss Resident... Out

A few minutes later, I looked out the back window and screamed -- the strange man was walking through our back yard!  He had let himself in through our locked gate, past our prominent "Private: No Trespassing" signs.  Obviously he wasn't just asking for directions!  Immediately I released my guard dog, who rushed at the stranger.  With barks and growls she held him in place while I prepared to call the police.  But as I watched, the stranger suddenly pulled out a gun and pointed it at our dog, preparing to shoot! 

Heedless of any danger to myself, I ran to the dog and grabbed her before he could fire.  "This is private property," I shouted, furious.  "Get out!"  He merely replied with a smug smile, "I'm from the county zoning department, and I'm going to look for violations here.  Now get rid of the dog or I'll shoot it."  Although no complaints had been made to the county, this supposed zoning department employee had come onto my private property with a presumably loaded weapon, without a warrant or authorization, for the sole purpose of finding a possible problem.  He had left our roadside gate open heedless of our animals grazing only a few feet away, and he had tried to shoot my dog in front of my children.  Fortunately, a neighbor witnessed everything, or I might not have believed it.

Why, I later wondered, would a zoning department employee be carrying a loaded gun?   And was he even from the zoning department?  He hadn't been driving a county vehicle, as zoning department employees do, and he hadn't shown me any identification.  And he certainly had no right to come onto my property through a locked gate, past my "No Trespassing" signs.  (I was later to recall Van Vleck's former connection with the zoning department.  In fact, the man had bore a startling resemblane to Van Vleck!)  But unfortunately, I didn't know enough at the time to file charges against the man.

For this charge of "prohibited littering", my husband and I were arrested and handcuffed -- in front of our young children -- by ten (count 'em, ten) officials, including a county photographer and a state's attorney.   We were treated like hardened criminals; when my husband objected to the state's attorney harassing one of our terrified children, the state's attorney-- a young woman -- threatened him, shouting "shut up or I'll throw you in jail right now", then strong-armed him away from our crying children.  If we hadn't been able to call someone to immediately stay with the children, they would have been hauled into temporary state custody.  All this for not putting a dead animal under the requisite so-many-inches of clay-soil on our own land!

Late one afternoon I was driving my children to the Illinois State Fair in Springfield, where one of my daughters was to exhibit a 4-H project about the community's troubles with the developers.  As evening approached, I turned on my headlights.  Suddenly there was a loud bang! as a cloud of smoke poured from under the dashboard.  My vehicle rolled to a stop, dead, in the middle of an empty stretch of highway.  Later we found that when I had turned on my lights, something had exploded in the engine compartment, melting the fuse block and most of the block wiring.  It took weeks to repair the vehicle.  Another evening, my son went to move his pickup truck, which was parked in the driveway.  As he started it, the engine burst into flames.  Within minutes, the truck was a fireball.  Neighbors called the fire department, but the truck was a total loss.  Fortunately, no one was injured.

In addition, our property taxes and new legal costs were well over our annual income, and we began going into debt to afford to keep our land.  But the more I was harassed, the angrier and more determined I got.  If I were to give up, what would happen to the next person?... And the next?  Would developers simply bully their way through anything they wanted?  When would it stop?

Van Vleck Loses His Cool

In the meantime, apparently concerned about the growing objections, the county was trying to appease local residents. It seemed that some good would come from the "hundred year flood" of 1992; having caused intense criticism of the county's laxness toward development, officials were now taking the water problem seriously.  When the Timberlake Homeowner's Association had their next meeting, Gloria Palisoc and David Van Vleck showed up, along with an individual from the county engineering department.  Together they unveiled a new proposal to deal with the water problem, hoping for residents' approval. 

As they began to explain the plan, I was shocked.  Although no one had consulted me or notified me, the plan called for building a huge drainage pipe through the back of my own land!

Everyone was stunned, but hardly surprised.  It was obvious to all by now that there was something more at stake here than a few houses.  Some wondered exactly how much money had changed hands already in order to get this far.

After the meeting, the Timberlake champion, "Mr. V.", took me aside.  I hadn't said a word yet about the pipe going through my property, but someone was already preparing for my objection.   "You'd better go along with them and let them put that pipe through your land,"  Mr. V. told me.  "You can't fight them.  I'm telling you this for your own good."  It was clearly a warning.

In the meantime, Mr Van Vleck did indeed make good his threat to the homeowner's group, although not to the extent that was expected. Using a little known zoning clause (which he of course had originally written), he subdivided the five-acre Burr Oaks land into two separate parcels-- one owned by Gloria Palisoc and Burr Oaks Realty, the other owned by himself.  Under the Van Vleck-written zoning laws, any parcel of less than three acres was not required to address stormwater concerns. But it was too late; since the 1992 flood and the resulting rash of negative publicity, the county had decreed that any development with a history of water problems had to address all drainage.  We had won another round, but the war was far from over.

Secret Dealings

To my surprise, Mr McGowan instantly knew which subdivision I meant. Of the thousands of plans he viewed, how could he be so familiar with this one insignificant development? The reason no one could find the plans was that they were locked in his private office. Reluctantly he gave me a cursory peek at the plans, then gave me a very brief explanation of the proposed drainage.  Fortunately, Mr McGowan wasn't aware yet that I was the adjacent property owner, or that I knew how to read blueprints.  In the brief instant the plans had been shown to me, I saw the new drainage plan, and I was outraged.

"According to that plan, you've got a drain pipe exiting onto this property to the south," I pointed out. "It looks like it's going to just empty all the water from that development into that property."

"That's right," Mr McGowan cheerfully agreed.

"That seems like a lot of water, to just empty onto someone's land.  What about the person who owns that property?"

"Oh, it's no problem," he assured me.

"Really?  Well, that's unusual.  I own that property, and no one has mentioned anything to me about it."

In fact, the plan called for water from the entire Burr Oaks subdivision to be collected into a large pipe, which would then empty onto my land.   Most of the water -- which would include stormwater, runoff, laundry, and sump pump discharge -- would inevitably end up in the wetland.  But, according to their plan, there was no need to worry.  Somehow, the water was to flow uphill, across the surface of my land, to a collection drain that would be built on a neighbor's property.  (According to Mr McGowan, the neighbor had supposedly given permission for the pipe to be built.)  From there the water would supposedly be routed into a nearby forest preserve.

Besides the fact that developers weren't allowed to discharge stormwater onto someone else's land, how could water flow uphill?  How could these high-salaried county engineering experts not realize this?  (Years later, I would learn that Mr McGowan's chief engineer, Don Eddy, had earned the nickname: "The Man Who Makes Water Flow Uphill".  The tongue-in-cheek moniker came from his common practice of designing stormwater drainage to suit his whims, with total disregard for topography or natural flow.)

McGowan hemmed for a moment and then condescendingly assured me, "Well, this was designed by engineers, and I'm sure they know what they're doing."  But no matter how knowledgeable they were, they couldn't make water flow uphill!  Even the plan elevations showed this.  The drainage plan was nothing more than using my property as an open drain for the Burr Oaks subdivision.  Eventually, neighbor's homes would be flooded, and part of my own land would be under water, rendering it useless -- all so a private developer could make money!

I then naively asked Mr McGowan, "Is it really legal to just empty water onto someone else's property without their permission like this?"

"Oh, yes," Mr. McGowan assured me, then gave me a short impromptu speech on water flow and legal rights. Even though I was by no means a legal expert, I had spent many recent hours immersing myself in state and county law.  I recognized that much of what he said was false.

Afterwards, I thanked him, then asked for his card, adding, "I'll have to let my lawyer know about this. He'll be very interested." Not surprisingly, that was the last anyone ever heard of the new drainage plan. It was never referred to again at any public meeting.

Further proposals followed, including installation of several sump pumps which would operate day and night to handle the Burr Oaks water.  (Residents rightly objected; what happened if there was a power outage during a heavy rainfall? Would the water just overflow onto neighboring homes?  And whose taxes would pay to maintain those pumps?)   Another plan called for the installation of a large stormwater basin.  (Residents rightly objected; neighborhood toddlers could drown in the deep water, and it would breed swarms of mosquitoes.  And whose taxes would pay to maintain the basin? )

Forest Preserves = Development Drains

Finally, the county came up with a plan that they felt was foolproof.  They would install pipes and drains to collect stormwater from the Burr Oaks and Southmeadow subdivisions, running the pipes along the road to empty into the nearby forest preserve.  Again, there were objections; the water, which would contain the heavy residue from lawn chemicals, could be hazardous to forest preserve wildlife.   Such surface runoff had no place being deliberately routed into a public forest preserve.  I was one of several people who contacted wildlife specialists, who were shocked that a forest preserve would allow such a plan.  But the objections were futile; the plan was approved.

We Can Do What We Want With Your Land

But I was even more angry at the fact that the county had casually granted the developers -- private businessmen who were making private profits -- the right to install the drain pipe through my property!  The decision was similar to a homeowner who lived next to a growing business.  One day the business owner decides that they need to expand their parking lot, but they have no room.  They go to the town officials, who give them approval to extend their parking lot onto the homeowner's land, without even letting the homeowner know.  This was what was happening to me.  I hadn't been consulted, and there had been no public hearing (at least not that I knew of).

My property had an unique status.  Because my family's ownership of our land predated any area planning or easements, there was no granted easement across the front of our property.  Clarendon Hills Road, which ran along our frontage, existed due to an implied easement.  The county and/or township had no legal right whatsoever to our property.  We literally owned-- and paid taxes on -- all the land up to the center of the road. But apparently the county didn't know I was aware of this.

Although we waited for weeks, and then months, the tree expert never showed up.  (Later, an arboretum representative would first claim that they had never been notified, then would miraculously come up with a "lost" statement showing that the trees had been examined and it was determined that the construction would not hurt them -- long after the trees were already dying.)

"Accidents" Will Happen...

In the meantime, preliminary work on the subdivisions was started.  It seemed that the developers, now that they had been granted approval, were determined to "get even". First, all the trees on the Burr Oaks property-- formerly a tree nursery with some rare specimens -- were cut down and burned, on the same day that two area residents were painting their home. Some, recalling Van Vleck's threat to "get even", felt the burning was done deliberately. For days, the neighborhood was filled with flaming ashes that floated down from the sky, and the two newly painted homes had to be redone.

It was only two days after the bulldozer "accident"  that I came home to discover my front line of trees destroyed (see beginning of article).  Later, it was claimed that the "trimming" was necessary so machinery could install the drainage pipes.  But why had trees been cut that weren't even near the proposed drainpipe area?   Why had small trees and shrubs that posed no obstacle been completely cut down?  Why had the gaping wounds on my trees been left bare, while they had immediately sealed and treated the few trees trimmed on the Burr Oaks property?  I was able to photograph and videotape the damages; outraged neighbors had also videotaped and photographed the tree cutters in action before I had arrived home.

This time, when we contacted Laser construction, they were plainly rude and belligerent.  They insisted that not only weren't the trees ours, but now they weren't going to give us a dime.  But the trees were ours, as would later be legally proven.  Their workers had been trespassing on our land when they had cut them down.  And even if there had been an easement like the neighboring properties, the trees would still have been within our property line.  The developer must have known this.  Didn't any kind of construction require a title search for easements?  And why hadn't the construction area been surveyed beforehand?   Was it because they knew my property extended to the center of the road?   Or was there some reason that they were sure that they could get away with whatever they did, with or without a survey?

Destruction of private property while trespassing constitutes criminal trespass, a jailable offense, but the developer wasn't in the least afraid.  Why not? What assurances did they have that I wasn't aware of?

Furious, I later called Laser Construction back and left a message that I was going to take legal action.  Thus began my venture into the shadowy and corrupt world of DuPage County Politics.

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