As of late, Wisconsin courts have been grappling with one of the most important questions facing the nation: What is a garage? Is it defined by size or exterior proportions? Do the construction materials define what it means to be a garage? Attached or detached? Is it defined by the contents it holds within? Or should it be defined by the conduct of those who frequent the garage?
For those among us who have long grappled with these fundamental issues, rest easy as the Wisconsin Court of Appeals in Buehrens v. Schave provides clarity. Like all good lawsuits, it started between feuding neighbors. The Schaves built a “building” with “an electric garage door” that is “thirty-six feet by eighty feet, reaching sixteen feet high.” To put this in context, the Schaves’ building was the dimensional equivalent of a great blue whale. Angry neighbors decried that it was a “pole barn” that violated restrictive covenants “as its size rendered it something other than a garage.” Without casting judgment, it is fair to say that there is no community barn-raising taking place in this subdivision.
In filing their lawsuit, the neighbors asked the court to order the building removed. The Schaves would have none of it and declared that the building fell squarely within the definition of a “garage.” Which, of course, was allowed by the subdivision’s covenants. To determine the fate of the building, the court turned to Webster’s Dictionary. There, the court found that “a reputable dictionary defines ‘garage’ as ‘a building or compartment of a building used for housing an automotive vehicle’.” With this definition, the court waved its wand and crowned the “building” a “garage” because the Schaves could show it was used for storing automobiles. As a result, the Schaves get to keep their garage.
However, the case reveals the problem with clear-line definitions. For instance, if the Schaves decided not to store automobiles would it revert to a pole barn and lose its status as a garage? Also, as most of us know, many garages have never been kissed by the warm rubber of a car’s tire, but instead have been disgraced by boxes of endless clutter. Does this make such a structure any less of a garage? Wouldn’t it be as good, if not better, to define a garage based on the activities that take place within such as band practice and startup companies? Otherwise, what fate befalls punk rock bands like Nirvana and industrious businesses following in the footsteps of Apple? To me, defining a garage by one item that may be found inside is like defining a human by the presence of an appendix or tonsils.