Man’s menagerie irks neighbor

The war at 98th Street and Broadway Road started in 2002, right after Mary Ann Zessin moved into her home on a county island in Mesa. Now, Zessin and two of her neighbors are locked in a feud that’s lasted four years.

On one side of 98th Street, buried in a landslide of colorful debris, sit the two homes of Bill Higney, 74, and his daughter Beth Schmeltz. Their homes are surrounded by a tragic fantasyland of mudstained stuffed animals, sunbleached Christmas decorations and a scattering of other toys across the two yards.

Zessin, 59, watches warily from the other side of the street. She said she initially hoped to stay on good terms with her neighbors. She didn’t have too big a problem at first with the decor across the street.

That kind of offbeat lifestyle was just part of life on a county island, Zessin said. But then she heard the barking.

“They have about 40 dogs,” she said. “And they bark 24/7.”

Zessin said she can’t stand the noise, and that a funky smell wafts to her from the colorful homes. She even installed a security camera and aimed it across the street — to keep an eye on her neighbors.

“You picked the wrong person to fight with,” she said. “Cause I fight back.”

After enduring the noise for four months, Zessin started calling in complaints to the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office. Sheriff’s officials said they’ve gone to the Schmeltz and Higney residences 27 times last year. Less-restrictive county zoning ordinances give Higney more leeway to decorate his home than he would find in Mesa. But he still has to answer to deputies and to county zoning inspectors.

Lt. Ed Shepherd supervises the deputies who patrol the area. He said Higney is notorious within the department.

“He’s actually fought us when we showed up to write tickets,” Shepherd said. “He’s not a nice man to deal with.”

Back on 98th Street, Schmeltz stood in front of the side-by-side homes in which she and Higney reside. She said her father might not want to talk about the conflict because he’d been in a bad mood for the last few weeks. But she’d try to fetch him.

“Dad!” the 47-year-old said, screaming over her shoulder. “Come out here!”

Then, accompanied by an outburst of frenzied barks, Higney trudged out of his mobile home, his face partially concealed by a sweat-stained safari hat.

Higney, sunburned and blinking in the bright afternoon sun, said he’s lived there for the last 40 years. He started collecting toys as an adult “after losing my childhood serving our country selling war bonds.”

He and his daughter also take in stray dogs they find wandering the neighborhood. Right now, there are 13 dogs living at their residences, Higney said.

“They were beaten, starved and lying there on the road,” he said.

The dogs might not have let Higney know, but his feud with Zessin is nearly over.

“Don’t tell them, but I’m moving,” Zessin said.