There’s at least one framed photo in 34-year-old Cesar Garcia’s living room that tends to elicit a physiological reaction from first-time visitors.
Within days of departing from the White House, Joe Biden posed with Garcia in early 2025 for a selfie at Mission Santa Ines—where the Buellton resident has regularly attended Sunday mass since he was 8 years old.
That’s also how old he was when he, his mother, and his brother first moved to Farmhouse in Buellton, a motel property “in name only,” Garcia said. It’s offered permanent housing options for longer than either its current owner or the city’s leadership can pinpoint.
For Garcia’s family, it’s been a 26-year stay. A 26-year-long unpermitted and unlawful arrangement in the eyes of Buellton’s elected officials.
“It seems like the city is trying to pressure everyone here,” Garcia said near the doorway of his family’s two-bedroom apartment at Farmhouse.
“That’s what we feel: pressure,” he continued. “It seems like we’re in a situation where we’re being targeted.”
Garcia was referring to a newly passed Buellton ordinance that requires motels located along the city’s Avenue of Flags corridor to revert any units used for long-term housing back to short-term rentals with nightly rates and the transient occupancy taxes (TOT) that go with them.
Of the few motels that’ll be impacted, the majority of the units that need to revert to short-term stays belong to Farmhouse, located at 590 Avenue of Flags. The property’s been at the center of several public meetings, including a City Council hearing in March.
“When was the last time we collected?” Buellton Councilmember John Sanchez asked city staff about TOT from Farmhouse.
“I have no idea,” responded Scott Wolfe, Buellton’s city manager since 2019. “Long before I came here.”
At the meeting, Mayor David Silva also asked to clarify whether Farmhouse’s proper title is the Farmhouse Motel or the Farmhouse Apartments.
“I don’t think title is necessarily an important concept here,” Wolfe said.
“The important concept is that it was developed as a motel,” he added. “When the city incorporated, it was a motel. When the current owner acquired it, it was a motel. It’s a motel, and even if that had not been the case, it was developed as a motel and under this ordinance it would need to be reverted back to a motel.”
Originally brought before the Buellton City Council during the summer of 2025, the motel ordinance wasn’t adopted until March 26.
Behind that delay was a series of postponed hearings, which began as soon as the state housing authority stepped in to investigate the city’s new legislation—and ultimately tweaked a crucial part of it.
Caught in the crosshairs
The California Department of Housing and Community Development (HCD) told the Sun that its recent inquiries into Buellton’s motel plans for Avenue of Flags started with “a request for technical assistance from a private party.”
“As a result, HCD investigated the city’s proposed short-term rental motel ordinance as it pertained to state housing laws,” HCD Communications Specialist Alicia Murillo said via email.
When asked if he was aware that a private party alerted the HCD to the ordinance, Farmhouse co-owner and Santa Barbara resident Kerry Moriarty was proud to take the credit.
“The city tried to steamroll this whole thing,” Moriarty said. “My attorney’s the one who recommended I get in touch with HCD.”
As some of his tenants agree, Moriarty felt that the Farmhouse was the primary target of an ordinance drafted to sound like it affects multiple motels equally.
Neighboring motels on Avenue of Flags include the San Marcos Motel, which mostly operates as a traditional motel aside from housing “a couple people that have been here for a few years,” a front desk manager told the Sun.
In comparison, none of Farmhouse’s 22 units are rented out nightly as a regular motel room, which Moriarty said was already the norm when he bought the property in 2004. The average monthly rent for current tenants is between $900 and $1,350, he added.
Moriarty is also the only motel owner who has voiced resistance to the ordinance to city staff and elected officials, City Manager Wolfe said.
“We didn’t get any objection except from Mr. Moriarty there at the Farmhouse,” Wolfe told the Sun. “Our intent was not to kick people to the street. Our intent was to force the property owners to convert back to motels, and we’re fully in the mode of assisting people to move into new housing.”
Since July 2025, when city staff first brought the ordinance before the Buellton Planning Commission, Wolfe has described the policy as a tool to help the city realize its vision to ramp up commercial activity on Avenue of Flags.
That goal was outlined in Buellton’s Avenue of Flags specific plan, drafted in 2017. It was one of the first priorities that 2019’s City Council entrusted Wolfe with once he took on the city manager role.
“When I got here, I realized that there were a number of pieces of property on the avenue that would be potentially ripe for redevelopment or revitalization, except that they were occupied by these old motels,” Wolfe recalled. “And those motels, just to some degree or another, had all started taking on long-term residencies.”
These conversions were never permitted or approved by the city, Wolfe said. However, they eventually fell under certain state protections, he added.
“In the last 10 years or so, the state had decided to declare that, ‘Hey, if you’ve got someone who’s been living in a piece of property for a long time—whether it’s intended to be a residence or not—it’s a residence,’” Wolfe said.
Originally, Buellton’s ordinance was drafted to allow current long-term residents to remain in their units for up to six months, as long as they could qualify for placement on an affordable housing waitlist at any of three specific developments in town: Pollo Village or the incoming Village Senior Apartments or Buellton Garden Apartments.
After the Planning Commission, City Council, and HCD weighed in, the ordinance evolved into allowing residents to stay for up to two years if they qualify for the housing authority’s affordable housing waitlist, whether it’s for a project within or outside of Santa Barbara County.
The two-year timeframe came from the HCD, although the department had previously approved an early outline of staff’s original proposal when it certified Buellton’s housing element in 2023, according to Wolfe. Moriarty’s complaints in late 2025 prompted HCD to revisit the matter.
“Once the Farmhouse ownership started objecting, … HCD called us back and said, ‘Hey, we want another look at it,’” Wolfe said. “We said, fine. We gave it back, and we went back and forth with them for several months.”
Stop and go
After getting the HCD’s blessing to move forward on the two-year extension route, the Buellton City Council passed the ordinance in March. This approval lined up the new motel rules to go into effect starting on April 25.
“I’ve not heard of another city that’s taken this approach,” Wolfe told the Sun. “My hope is that these motel owners, once they realize, ‘Hey, my property has value beyond just the fact that there’s a motel sitting on it,’ that they would either say: ‘Hey, I’m going to be sitting in the middle of a vibrant commercial location here, I want to fix up my motel.’
“Or maybe they say: ‘You know what, I’m done being in the motel business,’” Wolfe continued. “‘I want to tear this down and build some other kind of commercial use that will be more lucrative from a financial standpoint.’”
Wolfe said his idea for the ordinance originated “from the fact that when I looked into this, it became really apparent that … we are at best a third-tier financing market,” he explained.
“We’re not LA. We’re not the Bay. We’re not Santa Barbara. We’re far enough out that the big banks look at us as a risky venture,” Wolfe said. “We’ve got a number of properties on Avenue of Flags that are entitled and ready to build. Part of the reason they’re not building right now is it’s hard to find financing.”
The new mandate creates an incentive for motel operators to step up their game because they’re competing for customers, Wolfe explained.
“Whereas if you’re dealing with someone who’s living there for a long time simply because the cost of housing in the area is so high, there’s not as much incentive,” Wolfe said. “There’s not as much demand that the property be improved.”
Farmhouse co-owner Moriarty and his legal advisors said that this approach amounts to “gentrification by policy,” as local attorney Mack Carlson described it.
“Let’s be clear about the decision before you,” Carlson told the Buellton City Council in March. “This ordinance would force the conversion of long-term affordable units into potential motel rooms designed to serve wine tasting weekenders from Los Angeles.”
The Santa Barbara-based firm Carlson’s a part of—Brownstein Hyatt Farber Schreck—will represent Farmhouse in an upcoming lawsuit against the city of Buellton over the ordinance, according to Moriarty.
“Even in a world where the stars align and all of these tenants find housing, the ordinance turns the city’s new affordable housing projects into mere backfill, replacing units lost by this ordinance,” Carlson added. “You don’t fix a housing shortage by shuffling lower income residents from unit to unit. That’s rearranging chairs, it’s not adding seats.”
Every rose has its thorn
Months ahead of the new motel policy’s passage, Farmhouse’s lawyers began drafting letters to warn officials that Moriarty would consider taking legal action if the ordinance was adopted.
In an October 2025 letter, attorney Christopher Guillen notified city officials about what he believes “is an egregious example of this council’s bias against Mr. Moriarty.”
Earlier that year, Guillen’s office submitted a Public Records Act (PRA) request seeking all city documents related to Farmhouse and its ownership. One email thread the firm received was about a separate commercial development in Buellton that Moriarty owns.
The conversation from June 2025 centered on a dispute between Moriarty and code enforcement staff about Moriarty allegedly leasing one of his buildings to a retail tenant without obtaining the proper permits.
As part of the thread, City Manager Wolfe forwarded an email to City Council members from Moriarty where he offered staff a one-time payment of $3,500 to resolve the issue. Wolfe replied to Moriarty: “This will not be an acceptable solution to the matter at hand. There is no transactional resolution of this issue. It can only be resolved by correction of the violations.”
In his forward of this exchange to the City Council, Wolfe wrote: “I do not usually let you know of what’s going on in the code enforcement arena. However, … he has threatened to go to the press to attempt to try this matter in the court of public opinion.
“I feel it appropriate to give you all a warning,” he added.
An hour after that email, Councilmember Hudson Hornick responded to Wolfe.
“Bust his balls, Scott!” Hornick wrote.
Out of caution, Hornick announced on Oct. 23, 2025, that he would recuse himself from voting on the motel ordinance.
“I used some unfortunate language in response to an email from our city manager about an entirely different property Mr. Moriarty owns on Avenue of Flags that was the site of multiple code violations,” Hornick said at that evening’s council meeting.
“I can understand that my choice of language on an unrelated code enforcement issue could be viewed as biased,” he continued. “So to keep things clean and avoid the appearance of tainting the process, I’m going to recuse myself from this matter.”
That night, staff advised the council to continue its review of the ordinance to a future date due to the aforementioned HCD investigation, which was pending at the time.
When the council finally voted on the ordinance’s final reading in late March, it passed 4-0 (Hornick recused).
As part of Farmhouse’s PRA request, Moriarty’s attorneys also received emails about a motel property located on Avenue of Flags that the city exempted from the new short-term rental reversion rule.
Designated as a city landmark in 2016, Red Rose Court (formerly known as Buellton Motel, established on Avenue of Flags in 1948) will be allowed to continue operating as a studio apartment complex for permanent residents under the ordinance.
While city staff noted Red Rose Court’s landmark status in reports about exempting it from the motel ordinance, Farmhouse attorney Guillen said he believes a 2022-dated email reveals discrimination.
In an email about city staff’s early preparations for the ordinance, contract planner Irma Tucker commented on a staff survey that compiled information about different motels located along Avenue of Flags.
Under a section dedicated to Red Rose Court, Tucker described it as a “well-maintained, quaint property” with studio apartment units that are “likely not affordable to lower income.”
From that line alone, attorney Guillen made the following claim: “The ordinance targets the Farmhouse on the very basis that it serves very low- and low-income tenants, … forcing very low- and low-income tenants to relocate, while allowing higher income residents in other similar situated, ‘quaint’ residential developments to remain in their homes.”
Far from over
Standing over a portable double burner in her kitchenette space, Farmhouse resident Miranda Braid boiled some eggs on April 8 shortly before walking a few doors down from her studio to deliver a homemade egg salad sandwich to her elderly neighbor, Guy Maler.
That same afternoon, she told the Sun that she planned on heading to a housing resources event happening nearby to collect as much information as she could for Maler, who’s lived at the Farmhouse for 14 years.
Braid, 52, moved to the Farmhouse about six years ago to get away from a bad relationship with a former live-in partner. She said she’s not worried about finding a new place to live. But she is worried about the Farmhouse’s most vulnerable residents, including Maler.
“I became disabled 15 years ago and [the Farmhouse] was the one place I could find that I could afford,” Maler said at a 2025 City Council hearing about the motel ordinance.
“I live in Apartment 1. It’s a handicapped apartment, so I have a walk-in shower, handrails, everything I need,” Maler continued. “Kerry [Moriarty] keeps the place up very nice. … To tell us all to relocate and just get out, it just doesn’t seem right.”
Braid said she also worries about Maryanne Degoede, who’s only lived at the Farmhouse—a funky place that appealed to her—since last November.
“California has changed a lot. It really was like the hippie spot, and rent wasn’t bad in the ’70s, but now it’s become so hard for young people,” Degoede said. “I worry about them.”
When Degoede saw an ad for the Farmhouse on Craigslist, the pet-friendly descriptor caught her attention too, the dog-owner told the Sun.
“He can stay in the room while I go get a blood transfusion,” said Degoede, who suffers from gastric antral vascular ectasia (GAVE), aka watermelon stomach.
Sometimes Braid takes Degoede to her medical appointments.
“We really are a community,” Braid said. “We look out for each other.”
All three individuals have spoken up at City Council hearings focused on the Avenue of Flags ordinance.
Outside of council chambers, Mayor Silva has also met them face-to-face at the Farmhouse during his door-knocking efforts to spread the word about available housing assistance options.
Silva also created Buellton’s first Benefits Fair—an event Braid attended—which he hopes will become an annual program.
The April 8 event featured case workers, volunteers, advocates, and representatives from various organizations, including Santa Ynez Valley People Helping People, dedicated to assisting those in need of social services.
“We kind of need a doula for some of these programs to understand,” Silva told the Sun. “I kind of went through my rolodex of emails and phone numbers and organizations that I’ve chatted with in the past, and asked, ‘Would you be willing to come to Buellton and provide a chance for people to do a one-stop shop,’ since there’s so much friction for navigating … the bureaucracy of it all.”
Upon meeting Farmhouse residents, Silva said he was “most impressed by how many of them have a fierce loyalty and sensitivity for the others around them.”
“I actually was impressed by those who had the means or the wherewithal to be able to relocate that aren’t concerned about themselves. They just want to make sure that their neighbors are taken care of,” Silva said. “I thought that was a really admirable trait to have.”
For Silva, approving the Avenue of Flags ordinance was about bringing properties like Farmhouse into full compliance with the law with “as much compassion as possible.”
While Moriarty expects to file his lawsuit against the city of Buellton before the end of April, he’s also exploring the possibility of connecting individual tenants to representatives of California Rural Legal Assistance, a nonprofit legal service dedicated to supporting clients with low incomes.
Councilmember Carla Mead—whose campaign platforms during her run in 2025 included fostering economic growth along Avenue of Flags—told the Sun via email that the goal behind the ordinance’s two-year transitional period “is to ensure that no one is displaced without a pathway forward.”
“It’s an important and nuanced issue,” Mead said. “The Avenue of Flags corridor is a key economic area for Buellton, and the City Council has a responsibility to plan for its long-term viability. At the same time, we recognize that there are individuals and families currently living in these motels, and we’ve been very intentional about approaching this transition with compassion and care.”
Say it ain’t so
For 26-year Farmhouse resident Garcia, benefitting from two more years at the property he grew up at isn’t worth trying to take someone’s spot in line for alternative affordable housing.
“They’re implementing us to get [affordable] housing, but I’m young and I can work. Why take advantage of the system?” said Garcia, who works full-time as a manager at Buellton’s 76 gas station.
“It’s the same with my brother. He says the same thing,” Garcia said. “We’re young, we’re healthy, and we don’t want to take over on an apartment from somebody that really needs it.”
Reflecting on growing up at the Farmhouse, Garcia said his childhood didn’t feel strange compared to other kids in Buellton he knew. It never felt like he lived at a motel, he said while pointing to a few photos on the wall that neighbor his prized selfie with Biden.
One photo that dates back to the late ’90s shows Garcia and his brother playing soccer in a grassy median across the street from their apartment.
Wherever he, his brother, and mother—a longtime line cook at Paula’s Pancake House in Solvang—end up calling home next, he’s confident they won’t separate.
“My brother and I are still here because my mom’s all alone. My father was never in the picture,” Garcia said. “The reason we keep ourselves together is, I think, because of our Hispanic culture.
“Of course, when you get married,” he clarified, “you make your own life.”
Reach Senior Staff Writer Caleb Wiseblood at cwiseblood@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in April 16 – April 23, 2026.