Marilyn monroe’s former home: a $8.35 million nightmare for its owners
The ghost of Marilyn Monroe haunts more than just the walls of her former Los Angeles residence – it’s now entangled in a costly legal battle, effectively rendering the property worthless to its current owners.
A monument to futile attempts at demolition
Brinah Milstein and Roy Bank, who purchased the iconic 1920s Spanish-style bungalow for a reported $8.35 million in 2023 with plans for expansion, are facing a protracted and increasingly expensive fight to tear down the structure. What began as a straightforward redevelopment project has morphed into a David-versus-Goliath struggle against the City of Los Angeles, fueled by a surprisingly robust Fifth Amendment challenge.
Initially granted permits to demolish and rebuild, those permissions were swiftly revoked after Councilmember Traci Park intervened, recognizing the historical significance of the property - the only home Monroe ever owned. The designation as a cultural-historic landmark in June 2024 effectively slammed the door on any redevelopment plans, and the financial fallout is now being quantified.
The price of preservation
Pacific Legal Foundation, representing Milstein and Bank pro bono, argues the city’s actions are a blatant violation of their property rights. The lawsuit details a cascade of expenses: exorbitant property taxes, prohibitive permit fees – totaling over $300,000 to date – and the escalating costs of enhanced security, driven by the influx of trespassers and, disturbingly, a recent uptick in burglaries. “The U.S. Constitution guarantees all Americans the right to just compensation when the government takes their property,” the firm stated bluntly. “If the government wants a museum, it must pay for one – not force private homeowners to foot the bill for a public monument.”
The city, unsurprisingly, has filed a motion to dismiss, escalating the battle. This isn't merely about preserving a building; it’s a costly assertion of municipal control, effectively pinning the financial burden of a historical landmark on two private citizens. The legal fees alone are projected to continue mounting, making the property virtually unsellable and its future profoundly uncertain. The estimated value? Essentially, nothing.
The irony, of course, is palpable. Monroe’s fleeting stardom, a carefully curated image of glamour and tragedy, now serves as a bizarre catalyst for a protracted legal dispute, a silent testament to the stubborn, often frustrating, inertia of bureaucracy.