Homeless evicted from Seattle park

More good news from the City of Seattle: Homeless evictions.

What's really funny, same week this happened: Mistake sends raw sewage into Ravenna Creek.

The impression is: Homeless people are dirtier than the rest of us. They create more garbage, and their "effluent" is stinkier.

Is anyone paying attention?

I don't think Kinnear Park is a great place to live. I'm fine with cleaning up the parks. Just tell me what I'm supposed to do at Operation Nightwatch.

We served something like 180 homeless men and women last night. Came close to turning people away. The City doesn't want more shelter. They want to preserve the rights of wealthy people to get to the freeway without impediment on Mercer Street. They want to build and maintain a billion dollars worth of stadia (no exaggeration). Meanwhile, McDonald's workers are commuting from Maple Valley. Granite Falls is the new Edmonds.

Just give us some options. Your s--- stinks just as bad as those living in Kinnear, but you've got the luxury of a publicly supported sewer system to haul it away for you.

Disaster preparations

Partly because we need to do this, and partly because someone is giving us $$$ to do this, Operation Nightwatch is developing a disaster plan.

It's kind of weird, because you could argue that we are involved with disaster on a daily basis -- people needing the most basic things -- food, shelter, clean socks, a hat, knit by a little old lady while watching "Days of Our Lives."

But what if we had to take care of the 180 homeless people for three days. I mean, the City of Seattle plans don't really help our weird and unique situation.

We're going to figure out what to do if we can't occupy our building, we're going to start storing drinking water, and probably have to figure out no-cook food items to keep on hand.

I mean, we have to put "do not touch" on the supplies that we set aside for a disaster, because the volunteers will want to serve it as soon as they see it. That's what we do, take care of people living the daily disaster.

So, you want to help -- check out the city resources, and get your own preparations going, so you have the ability to help your neighbors when the Big One hits. God, preserve us.

It's getting worse

This SUCKS.

Tonight's gory numbers: 200 homeless people served (a record at our current location).

Twenty three men turned away.

Six women given nothing but a bus ticket and a blanket to get them through the night.

Horribly crowded. Every shelter in Seattle is filled. It is raining as I write this at midnight.

We're seeing very sick people, mentally ill, old people who can barely walk, addicts, and working people. They're not all hopeless, but none of them have money to live in this community.

Maybe we should just rent a bus and drop them off in Tacoma. Surely our neighbors to the south wouldn't mind.

We need help. Got any ideas? Call us.

R

APRIL - BAH

Got the following email from Ann, Deputy Director, from Sunday night, April 13:

Okay. Total was over 180. 45 women. It was too hard. It was discouraging. It was too hard. It was too hard.

A morbidly obese woman came in from WRC with a walker, and several bags that she could not carry. I think other women from WRC helped her get to us, but then bailed. When I signed her in, she rambled on about having been discharged from Virginia Mason, been treated for edema (she was large but also swollen). She claimed she could not go to another place (she thought our location was the shelter); she just couldn't move anymore. I got her the last spot at Tonya's Room Shelter but she refused to go. She refused to go to any shelter. I offered to call for an ambulance to take her back to the hospital, which she ultimately did.

In the meantime, a male client parked himself near the door. He had come from the hospital too. He too could not move well. When the obese woman and another woman in a wheelchair (she went to Tonya's) came rolling through the door, this man who could barely walk stood up feebly and offered his chair. The women find other chairs with help from more able-bodied clients and the lame man sits back down. At the end of the night, he is one of the 6 male turnaways. Everyone leaves except him. He's the only one left, so he asked if he could stay in the Dispatch Center. He sounded like he wanted to go back to a hospital, but when he talked to the medics on the phone, he told them he would take a cab. Then he changes his mind and told us he would walk out of here and go catch a bus to get to a 174 to ride all night. But he didn't know where the bus stop was, and could not really walk (he has MS). Salvador fetched the pair of crutches we have in the back and the guy leaves, very slowly, very wobbley with the crutches headed for Jackson. I put my head down and pray. Its too hard.

Fifteen minutes later, we close at midnight. Salvador, Paul and I go out the door together and we see the guy with the crutches going down 14th toward Jackson, but he's barely in front of {the neighbor's} place. Its been fifteen minutes. I can't stand seeing it, so I go fast around the corner to my car, which is parked on Main, in front of the Temple. I drive up Main, right on 16th to Jackson and right on Jackson, heading home. When I stop at the light on Rainier and Jackson, I see the guy. He's now almost to the corner. And I see a BMW make a u-turn on 14th to pull up right next to the guy. Its Salvador, who gets out and goes to talk to the guy. Salvador clears out his front seat and even demonstrates to the guy how he should back into the seat. The light changed before I saw the guy get in Salvador's car, but I'm sure he gave him a ride. Thank God for Salvador. This is too hard.

Just another crappy April night at Operation Nightwatch.

Today we pay our taxes. Billions we spend for war, but for some poor person who is sick, go sleep on a bus.

Early Night

"Early night!" I told Father Kim, as we walked out of My Favorite Queen Anne Tavern.

Oh, what the heck, we decided to swing by the Millionair Club where 75 of our guys sleep under the watchful eye of Compass Center employees. All very egalitarian.

Back at Nightwatch HQ, Manager Ben was dealing with stragglers looking for shelter, and tied up on the phone. In the corner sat a forlorn woman in a wheelchair.

"Rick" Ben barks, "wanna pick someone up at the bus depot and take them to DESC?" (Ben doesn't actually bark, but it makes a better story if he did. What, did you think all this stuff is true? PSHAW!)

So, Father Kim is game, off we go. Down on Stewart Street, a bunch of cabs parked, people in the shadows doing their thing, and one earnest looking young man with bags, right at the curb.

I pull up. "You from Nightwatch?" he asks.

"Yup."

He hops in, if one can really hop with 100 pounds of luggage. "That's gonna be trouble," I think to myself.

The 10 minute drive from Greyhound to DESC is the sort of monologue I wish I could tape and play back for myself over and over.

Greyhound dude describes his head and back injuries, his trauma with getting medical and support things sorted out, his hopes for the coming days, and other various and sundry minutae of his life and travels. And travails too, because he has had those, and more to come.

In a nutshell, his support isn't coming soon enough, so he's seeking out help, as though moving around irrationally will speed up your survival. Does that make sense? No?

Try hitting yourself in the head with a hammer, or fall off a ladder; then it might make sense.

If you saw the guy, you would swear he's your sister's preppy ex boyfriend. Bet you a nickel he doesn't show up at Nightwatch tomorrow night.

Back at Nightwatch, the fire truck is at the front door. No early night now.

Addiction

Addiction is a horrible thing. You see the pictures of people, before and after their use of meth. At Nightwatch, we spend a fair amount of time dealing with junkies, either sick of life and wanting change, or sick of life and continuing the spiral downward.

People in the community have very little patience with addicts -- they just want to run them out of the neighborhood. Which is impossible of course, since a certain number of people living here in their own home are also addicted.

Sometimes people in churches are even more impatient, as though addiction is simply a matter of moral failure. When I go talk to church groups (think, "little old ladies") they can't seem to relate to the pattern of use, remorse, sobriety, relapse.

Until I mention food.

Anyone that has ever struggled with weight issues can understand -- biological urge seems to trump common sense. I know, food problems are not the same as heroin addiction. But people in the pews seem to understand the urge to eat donuts, or popsicles, even when you know you shouldn't, and don't really want to.

Those popsicles seem to talk to me sometimes. How about you?

Silky Vestments

Brother Wes Browning seems just a little too infatuated with the nearness of all us clergy types at the City Hall Tent Meeting. Apparently finding out that we aren't all child-beating Old Testament patriarchal types has poked a hole in the thin veneer of his reality.

His infatuation in Real Change focuses on "silky vestments." I believe I should take Brother Wes to Kauffer's Catholic Bookstore and we shall show him how easy it is to dress for success; priesthood of all believers, you know?

Chauffer? Sho-fur? Chaffeuer?

No matter how you spell it, driving homeless women to shelter is so. . .gratifying.

Really. And fascinating too.

They couldn't really believe their luck, given the lousy cold rain and all. So everyone was happy.

And I'm reminded how profoundly mentally ill many of the homeless folks are. Obsessive compulsive disorder, profound depression -- all obvious conditions, though I'm no trained expert. But trying to survive and navigate the city has to be a drag when you have bad brain chemistry. I mean, just hanging onto the placement ticket for the seven minute drive between Operation Nightwatch and the shelter was too much for several women. One woman told me that she forgot to register, after she got out at the shelter. And another woman didn't want to leave Nightwatch at all since she wasn't wearing any pants. She did have a long coat, nothing showing. But how do you live without pants? Hmmm?

The really weird thing -- once she got into the vehicle, we had a wonderfully lucid conversation. But upon arrival there was no rushing her -- she had to check and recheck to make sure she didn't leave anything in the car. Maybe she learned her lesson. Not going to lose her pants ever again.

Love to all my fans, Rick

On proposed encampment rules

It's not very blog-i-licious:

Comments on the proposed Administrative Rules Re: Unauthorized Encampments
By Rev. Rick Reynolds, Executive Director, Operation Nightwatch

Operation Nightwatch serves 140 to 160 homeless individuals every night of the year. Often there are no shelter beds available for the people who come seeking help. For more than 20 years Operation Nightwatch simply assisted homeless people with accessing shelter. But circumstances have forced us to use private donations to expand the existing shelter system through contracting with third party providers, adding to the number of shelter beds available each night in Seattle.

Despite adding 75 mats for men (Compass Center at FASC), 25 sober mats for men (Bread of Life Mission) and 30 mats for women (Salvation Army, at Seattle First Covenant Church), Nightwatch continues to turn homeless people away from shelter between 9:00 pm and midnight. On January 10, 2008, after the proposed rules were issued by the City, eleven men were turned away because no shelter was available, on a night when the severe weather shelters were open and also full.

Our interest in these administrative rules goes beyond the definitions, processes, and prohibitions that outline civil behavior for city workers, city government, and homeless people themselves. We find nothing in these regulations that outline what IS allowable for people who find themselves with no housing or shelter for a night. May they sleep on the sidewalk? Can they bundle up at a bus stop? What advice can we give to those simply trying to survive tonight outside?

These issues must be addressed. The city currently funds severe weather shelters at the Frye Apartments, City Hall, and in extremely harsh weather, at the Seattle Center. These are night-to-night shelters, serving 100 to 200 people. How does the City advise these people on the nights those shelters are not open? What guidance does the City give its shelter contractors? What guidance can the City give other privately funded organizations like Operation Nightwatch, Union Gospel Mission, Bread of Life Mission, CityTeam Ministries, and other shelters turning people away every night?

Operation Nightwatch applauds the efforts to end homelessness. Can’t we figure out short term and intermediate steps for people who are homeless now? At midnight tonight we can’t tell some homeless day-laborer that affordable housing is coming in 2011.

Rick Reynolds

"Behind the Red Wall"

It's getting scary.

The police department is cracking down on homeless people. I didn't realize how bizarre things had gotten until last night.

I was out late with a group of college students visiting from Greenville, Illinois, a village about 90 minutes from St. Louis, out in the cornfields. We walked a bit downtown, and saw several weird things, to me:

First, there were no people sleeping under Yesler street at 4th Avenue. This has been a homeless camping area for 20 years.

Second, there was not a single soul in City Hall Park at 8:30 at night.

Third, there was a chaotic queue of homeless people along the Jefferson Street side of the King County Administrative Building, waiting for the opening of the County-funded winter shelter for men run by Salvation Army. Why they think lining up, first come/first served is a good idea, I don't know.

We walked up 4th Avenue. Across the street homeless people waited for the opening of the severe weather shelter at City Hall (Behind the Red Wall -- sounds like a great book title).

It was 9:00 p.m. The doors were still locked.

Cold sleet and wind. But maybe not cold enough?

City of Seattle workers didn't think so.

I think any night that the severe weather shelters are closed, the following day they should shut off the heat in all City offices. It's only fair.

It was a miserable night watching homeless people milling around with no place to go.

What are the chances?

Last week I got a call from one of our Nightwatch tenants living in the senior apartments. He's been in the hospital and now a nursing home in the north end.

"There's someone here that wants to say hi," he tells me.

Then a strange voice. "Bet you can't guess who this is!"

You're right.

"It's your old friend, Loser."

My mouth fell open. Loser (not his real name, duh, but the one he went by when I knew him 12 years ago).

Loser slept in his van outside Nightwatch when we were in another neighborhood. He helped out around the place, and helped himself a tad too. Think 'biker dude.' He has a toad sticker about 10 inches on the front seat of his van. No one messes with him. He gets his blankets from homeless people in the morning for a buck. Somehow he survives.

Next thing I knew, Loser was the manager of a downtown apartment building. He actually helped me get Herchel off the street after we got the social security stuff taken care of.

Every few months we'd check in with each other. OK, maybe once, twice a year. You know how it goes. I thought he left town. Last time I checked, his replacement at the apartment building didn't know what happened to him.

Anyway, remember the senior tenant - John - who called me? They're assigned to the same nursing home room in the north end. John and Loser, side by side. The mind reels. What are the chances? Both are hanging on to life, for now.

Rick

On Families

Operation Nightwatch wants to help homeless families.

Here's the dilemma: We already are at capacity for single men & single women. Our numbers for the summer have been off the chart in terms of nightly average.

It isn't safe to plunk a family with children down in the midst of these single adults.

Operation Nightwatch was a dumping ground for other bigger and better funded social service agencies who simply wanted a voucher for a family they were working with; one night the social worker started to drive away in a new van having dropped off a mom who didn't speak English and her five kids. They were all neatly dressed, had no luggage. We were expected to stop serving the 150 homeless men and women to get this family onto a city bus across town to a hotel which takes our voucher, when the only adult doesn't speak English, while the social worker drives home in the shiny new van, thinking "another job well done."

Bitter? yah.

Anyway, for the safety of the kids we decided it didn't make any sense to do what we were doing. Sorry if that impacts you.

Meanwhile, we are interested in developing a strategy for families with children that makes sense. What's your idea? A single night in an isolated motel makes no sense at all.

Rick

Blogger dog

Street misery

Street ministry or street misery?

I put up a happy picture of John and Tiger to remind myself that Nightwatch isn't all tragic horror. It just feels that way sometimes.

John is a paying tenant -- he does jigsaw puzzles and brags about how long he's lived in the building. I feel pretty good knowing that without Nightwatch he'd probably be flopping around one of the shelters at age 75, or dead.

Meanwhile, anyone have a joke for me?

Must be a holiday weekend -- I need three days off.

R

Pointless Search?

I'm not really sure what to say when I get calls like I got this week.

"My daughter is missing, she was evicted from her Capitol Hill apartment. The manager says he saw her in the park. When you find her, have her call me collect."

I feel so cynical in these situations. In a town of 1.2 million (Greater Seattle) and 7,800 homeless individuals on any given night (according to the One Night Count) I'm supposed to wander around and find a particular not-very-together homeless woman? Give me a break.

So, I did drive around a bit on Capitol Hill last night. Didn't really see anyone at 9:30 p.m. I'll keep the particulars in my car so I can jump out like a cop making a bust: "Call your mother!"

OK. Stranger things have happened.

What are we supposed to do?

What are we supposed to do? Operation Nightwatch served 51 women on Monday night. We had space around town for less than 30. Many just turned around and walked out -- not wanting to sit around waiting for the last call at 11:00 p.m. from one of the women's shelters. They knew what the answer was going to be.

In the summer we should be enjoying life. But the crush of people this summer is unlike any summer in my fourteen summers at Nightwatch. The strain is being felt by the homeless, by the staff, and the whole system. No one has an answer.

I am in dread of September rains.

End of an Era

It was my last night at "Dravus Street Bar" (all names changed to protect . . . oh who knows) -- last big blowout is Saturday night, and you couldn't get me there if you paid me and picked me up in a limo.

So of course tonight I met a coupla nice guys -- one a retire cop (where the heck has he been? We could have used him the past 9 months). He told me he started drinking there 35 -40 years ago. We swapped names, he told me I couldn't be a good priest since I turned down his offer of wine. Shout out to Dean Quall, retired SPD officer who was on the Nightwatch board about 14 years ago. Maybe I met him once. Other friendly face was a property owner in the hood who stops off on his way home (Lynnwood) after painting or whatnot on his apartments.

He said something I had never heard in 25 years of bar ministry:

Bartender: "You want another one?"

Patron: "Nah. Two is my limit."

Way to go. This shall be my final memory of the Dravus Street Bar. A lot happened here in a short time for the Nightwatch ministers.

Indulge me a longer-than-usual reflection.

"Milk Maid" is the glue (besides booze, I mean) that held the place together. She's worked here longer than she cares to admit, maybe 25 to 30 years; she hates to hear that. And sometimes she quit but always came back.

Milk Maid was sad about what was going to happen to the whole screwed up-dysfunctional-alcoholic-addict family that circles around Dravus Street. Her flock is being scattered, and she worries about them; she will miss many of them. But then, some of her favorites have been 86'd out of there in the past six months.

Her nightmare commute to Bellingham will end on Saturday night/Sunday morning. Imagine driving to Seattle from Bellingham every day to pour beers and mix drinks for that crowd. Oh yeah, she cooks a mean burger, they say. Never ate anything there.

Part of what she left me: Angostura bitters -- good for what ails ya. Compassion for the hard-bitten. The impossibility of one person to manage such a place. Never a growl escaped her lips, even when trying to get better behavior from one of her kids.

I wonder what is next for her.

She gave me her phone number on a coaster, and told me I better explain it to my wife. I don't think Lorri will mind. I'm going to call her early next week to find out how the closing party went, and probably on Thursday night for awhile -- my night to be in there.

It feels weird -- there were some brutal crimes, ugly scenes -- hookers picking off guys who 10 minutes prior had asked for prayer; lock downs, when girlfriends were huddled at the bar. "W" trying to figure out what to do, having come home to find his stuff locked up by the landlord; "T" getting busted for living in a parking lot in Ballard in her van, even though there were no drugs; the crazy old lady who drank coffee and sat in the corner -- conversations with her were stream of conciousness webs that lured you in; the exotic dancer shimmying around the room, fully clothed and looking like an example of plastic surgery gone sadly awry; "H" getting it on to "Jungle Boogie" his gapped toothed smile and incredible bulk seriously impressive in dance; "J" the young pool hotshot who I mysteriously ran into in Chinatown -- cryptically telling me he doesn't "do that" anymore; PFC "J" and his drunk motorcycling death wish; passing out popsicles; going around the room with Father Kim fixing all the malfunctioning beer lights when we were the only two people in the bar; the end of smoking inside; Milk Maid's tangle with the falling equipment in the kitchen; "K-J" and pal wanting a Bible & rosaries (eek, too late on the extras). Not to mention the whole Danny Westneat, Seattle Times, following me around on the stormiest night of the year saga; "DB" spewing venom and insanity and then making peace in a most-lovely righteous way. Whew. I know there's a bunch I missed. Sorry to run on so long.

I'll miss the people, but not the place. God keep them close. Rick

From the archives: Pastor Rick, Mechanic

Maybe it was rescuing the Mercedes driver last week; something was triggered.

We got a call about 9:30 p.m. that a family was stranded -- they weren't homeless, but they weren't going to get home in the heap they were driving.

I dispatch Mark Abbott & Matt Whitehead to get the mom, three kids and an 18 year old nephew into a hotel room for the night (way to go, guys), and told the family I'd meet them at their car then next morning. Say, 10:00 a.m.

The 18 year old nephew told me it was the alternator. He didn't really know, but that's what some service station grease monkey told him.

I asked for prayer, grabbed the kid and drove to the nearest wrecking yard. The bored guys behind the counter couldn't care less. Yeah, we got one of those, and the lazy hand wave indicating the general direction.

We found an identical heap, managed to grab the alternator with a minimum of pain, paid the dude at the counter (all of $20 I think). Within an hour everything was done, installed, jump started with my little Toyota tin can -- and they were able to drive home to the coast. Not a bad day.

Lorri says, "Sure sign that there is a God."

Rick

Bar Closure

Attention Drinkers, starting August 19 the "Dravus Street" bar will be closed for good. Three lanes of drinkers will be reduced to one. Take alternate routes.

Washington Department of Transportation attributes the closure to "expansion joints." Need we say more? Apparently others are concerned as well.

Friday night happy hour will be the real test of capacity.

Car problem solved

It seemed like a joke.

Here's the line of homeless folks going into Operation Nightwatch at 9 p.m. The woman in the Mercedes parked next to them needed a jump start.

The Nightwatch minister has the jumper cables and the live battery.

Needless to say, we had lots of advice and help.

Despite that, we got her going. Rick