Street SpiritJ U S T I C E N E W S & H O M E L E S S B L U E S I N T H E B A Y A R E A

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by Zachary Bowin

This fall 38,000 students will head tothe UC Berkeley campus to pursuean undergraduate or graduate edu-

cation. While UC Berkeley prides itselfon its diverse population of students whobring to campus their own unique stories,cultures, values and experiences, the uni-versity also emphasizes the commonali-ties that unite all of its students.

Campus staff, faculty and student orien-tation counselors repeat ad nauseam thatstudents are special — the chosen few whoare getting a world-class public educationthat will open the doors to opportunity andsuccess. Furthermore, this view isengrained in on-campus culture where dis-cussion focuses around internships, gradu-ate schools and potential employers.

An unhealthy competition exists where

the goal is not to get a good job, but thebest job. I know this because I experi-enced it as an undergraduate. And evennow, in my current Masters in SocialWelfare program, and while I am a proudGolden Bear who feels fortunate to havereceived a great education at Cal, the edu-cation I received on the streets as a home-less man shortly after graduating was evenmore enlightening.

I graduated in December 2010 with myBachelors of Arts from UC Berkeley. Oneof the uniting factors I have noticedamong Cal students is our ambitious driveand the pressure for success we place onourselves. This manifests itself in an over-packed schedule where there is scarcely asingle minute not spent attending class,studying, writing papers, working, com-pleting an internship or doing research

with a professor. Thus, when I graduated, I was cautious-

ly optimistic that I would be able to obtaina job that would allow me to supportmyself. This assumption was never ques-tioned by any of the career counselors,major advisors, professors, or other campus

staff I talked to, despite the fact that thecountry was in a major economic recessionand they were aware of the family turbu-lence which left me without a safety net.

However, the problems in the U.S.economy and my lack of family and

UC Berkeley GraduateDiscovers the

University of the StreetsEven though I was fortunate to have received agreat education at UC Berkeley, the education I

received on the streets as a homeless man shortlyafter graduating was even more enlightening.

Michael Rowland and Zachary Bowin became close friends while living on the street.

by Bonni McKeown

“Somebody has been cashing checksand they’ve been bouncing back on us.And these people, the poor class ofNegroes and the poor class of white peo-ple, they’re getting tired of it. And sooneror later it’s going to bring on a diseaseon this country, a disease that’s going tospring from midair and it’s going to bebad. It’s like a spirit from some dark val-ley, something that sprung up from theocean...” — Chester Burnett (Howlin Wolf)

Howlin’ Wolf offered that profoundinsight in an interview at the Ash Grovein Los Angeles in 1968. Wolf was a pow-erful performer and band leader, and oneof the greatest and most passionate bluesvocalists of all time. One of the mostimportant founders of the blues, he wasperhaps a modern-day prophet as well!

In the cotton fields and levee camps ofthe early 20th century South, AfricanAmericans kept on creating their music.In both churches and juke joints, singingheld the community together as Jim Crowoppression threatened to keep people con-fined in a slavery-like caste system. Songs

could convey things too dangerous tospeak about — long work hours, low pay,and unfair racist bosses.

Blues helped people survive and occa-sionally to protest. Muddy Waters, OtisSpann, Little Walter and Willie Dixon trav-eled to Washington to play at the PoorPeople’s encampment two months afterMartin Luther King’s death in 1968. AsBuddy Guy quoted Muddy in a RollingStone interview on April 25, 2012: “Blues.The world might wanna forget about ‘em,but we can’t. We owe ‘em our lives.”

Renowned jazz trumpeter WyntonMarsalis, on CBS This Morning on April6, 2012, said after sitting in at an Alabamajuke joint: “Blues are good for the soul.Their rhythms are inseparable from theAmerican identity. They encompass theoptimism of American identity. Andthey’re not naive. Blues tell us bad thingshappen all the time, and they do, and wecan engage with them.”

Marsalis described the friendly, heal-ing atmosphere of America’s hard-to-findjuke joints: “Humility is the foundation ofhumanity ... When you reach out to some-one, when you’re empathetic, that’s your

humanity, when you’re together.... Musicbrings us together in thought and feeling,and emotion.”

Blues is the opposite of exploitation,subjugation and separation of people byrule of fear. Blues insists we’re human,imperfect, yet there’s Spirit in us. We can

get it together. We need blues now more than ever.

New Jim Crow snuck up on America andlegalized racial discrimination via the Waron Drugs. New Jim Crow has shot the Billof Rights full of holes and put millions in

Blues for the 99 PercentThe Corporate Attack onAmerica’s Roots Music

Blues musician Larry Taylor is the son of Eddie Taylor, the masterful guitarist forbluesman Jimmy Reed. Today, Larry carries on the living spirit of Chicago blues.

See Blues for the 99 Percent page 10

See The University of the Streets page 9

August 2015ST R E E T SP I R I T2

by Jesse Clarke and the WesternRegional Advocacy Project

On July 31, members of theWestern Regional AdvocacyProject (WRAP) organized amarch to the Union Square

Business Improvement District in SanFrancisco to protest the way businessesand local officials use a combination ofprivate security forces and city police toharass and banish homeless people.

Advocates from three states convergedon the Union Square BusinessImprovement District as part of a nationalcampaign to build a multi-state HomelessBill of Rights and demand the right for allpeople to engage in the necessary activi-ties of sitting, lying, eating, and sharingfood without being criminalized.

The march was another essential stepin building a movement towards the elim-ination of poverty and homelessness andadvancing the fight for the Right to Rest.

The Western Regional AdvocacyProject is coordinating this fight againstthe criminalization of poor and homelesspeople’s existence in Colorado, Oregonand California. All three states are consid-ering legislation for a Right To Rest.California’s legislation was authored bySenator Carol Liu, SB 608.

The march kicked off with a boisterousrally at Powell Street BART Station at thecable car turnaround, a San Franciscotourist destination. Weaving through theFriday afternoon commuters, shoppersand tourists, more than 75 protesterswaved colorful placards demanding“House Keys Not Handcuffs.”

DISCRIMINATORY POLICING

“We are back to the days of Jim Crowlaws and Anti-Okie laws,” said LisaMarie Alatorre of the San FranciscoCoalition on Homelessness. “The BIDsare promoting discriminatory policingpractices to simply remove peopledeemed unwanted from certain parts oftown. We are marching today to tell theBIDs that we are here to stay and we willhave our Right to Rest.”

The marchers moved up Powell Streetto the Union Square BusinessImprovement District office in the heartof San Francisco’s premier shopping dis-trict, where they were met by police.Huge cardboard cutouts of jails appearedand protesters spilled off the sidewalk andinto the street.

The crowd then moved into UnionSquare proper where speakers from aroundthe country addressed the problem ofBusiness Improvement Districts (BIDs) intheir communities. BIDs have been relent-lessly policing poor and homeless peoplefor simply existing in public space.

“The Union Square BusinessImprovement District is not actually inter-ested in creating a safer San Francisco foreveryone, but solely interested in protectingthe interests of wealthy San Franciscansand keeping poor and homeless people outof sight,” said Coral Feigin of the WesternRegional Advocacy Project.

A recent street outreach survey con-ducted by organizers at WRAP shows that79 percent of people on the streets whoreceived a ticket from the police assumedthat it was a result of their economic sta-tus. Also, 74 percent of street-involvedpeople have seen private security guardsharassing, policing and displacing peoplefrom the public sidewalk.

At the same time, only 28 percent ofpeople surveyed in San Francisco know ofa safe and legal place to sleep.

The vast majority of this harassmenthas been occurring at locations withinBusiness Improvement District bound-aries. Enforcing laws meant to targethomeless people simply is adding morestress and struggle into people who arealready struggling to even survive.

The Union Square BID, which gets 96percent of its funding from raising proper-ty taxes in the district, spends over twomillion dollars on what it calls “Clean &Safe” expenses such as policing, securitycameras and other surveillance technolo-gy. The main focus of the BID’s idea ofsafety involves citing, harassing, incarcer-ating and displacing poor and homelesspeople through the discriminatory prac-tices of enforced sit/lie legislation.

As the demonstration came to a close,protesters called for a return to SanFrancisco to protest BIDs in the near future.

LAWS THAT BANISH AND EXCLUDE

The United States has a long history ofusing discriminatory and violent laws tokeep “certain” people out of public spacesand out of public consciousness.

Jim Crow laws segregated the Southafter the Civil War and Sundown Townsforced people to leave town before the sunset. The anti-Okie law of the 1930s inCalifornia forbade poor Dustbowl immi-grants from entering the state. Ugly Lawsswept the country and criminalized peoplewith disabilities for being seen in public.

Today, such laws mostly target home-less people and are commonly called “qual-ity of life” laws or “nuisance crimes.” Theycriminalize sleeping, standing, sitting, and

even food-sharing. Just like the laws fromour past, they deny people their right toexist in local communities.

Today’s “quality of life” laws andordinances have their roots in the broken-windows theory. This theory holds thatone poor person in a neighborhood is likea first unrepaired broken window. If the“window” is not immediately fixed orremoved, it is a signal that no one cares,that disorder will flourish, and the com-munity will unravel. This theory concep-tualizes poor people as “things” to beremoved, and not people who are strug-gling to survive.

BIDS AND POLITICAL REPRESSION

Nowadays, we have BusinessImprovement Districts (BIDs) collaborat-ing with police enforcement to keep busi-ness neighborhoods flourishing by remov-ing poor people from visible spaces.

BIDs are made up of a group of prop-erty and business owners deciding toassess or tax themselves in order to investin a more “safe and attractive” consumerenvironment. There are well over 1,000 ofthese special districts throughout theUnited States and Canada. Their mainfunction is to drive homeless people awayfrom the BID by hassling them, enforcingthe sit-lie law and other discriminatorytactics, and by notifying law enforcementwhen quality of life offenses are beingcommitted, thus criminalizing homelessand poor people’s existence.

We are right back to Jim Crow Laws,Sundown Towns, Ugly Laws and Anti-Okie Laws. We have gone from the dayswhere people could be told “you can’t sit atthis lunch counter” to being told “you can’tsit on this sidewalk,” from “you’re on the

wrong side of the tracks” to “it is illegal tohang out” on this street or corner.

We will only win this struggle forsocial justice if we use our collectivestrengths, organizing, outreach, research,public education, artwork, and directactions. WRAP and our allies are continu-ing to expand our network of organiza-tions and cities and we will ultimatelybring down the whole oppressive systemof policing poverty and treating poor peo-ple as “broken windows” needing to bediscarded and replaced. Our liberation isdependent on your liberation.

Business Improvement Districts and ‘Broken Windows’ LawsThe broken windows theoryof policing conceptualizespoor people as things to beremoved and not people whoare struggling to survive.

Protesters condemn the harassment of poor people by security forces of the Union Square Business ImprovementDistrict in San Francisco. The sign says: “A right delayed is a right denied.” — Dr. Martin Luther King.

Janny Castillophoto

On July 31, housing activists marched on the office of the Union Square Business Improvement District. Janny Castillo photo

Street SpiritStreet Spirit is published by AmericanFriends Service Committee. The ven-dor program is run by J.C. Orton.

Editor, Layout: Terry MessmanWeb designer: Jesse ClarkeHuman rights columnist: Carol Denney

Contributors: Claire J. Baker, Claire J.Baker, Zachary Bowin, Jack Bragen,Curtis Burbick, Lynda Carson, JannyCastillo, Jesse Clarke, Ellen Danchik,Carol Denney, Lydia Gans, BonniMcKeown, Mike “Moby” Theobald,Steve Pleich, WRAP, George Wynn

All works copyrighted by the authors.The views expressed in Street Spirit arti-cles are those of the individual authors.

Street Spirit welcomes submissions. Contact: Terry MessmanStreet Spirit, 65 Ninth Street,San Francisco, CA 94103E-mail: spirit@afsc.orgWeb: http://www.thestreetspirit.org

August 2015 ST R E E T SP I R I T 3

by Steve Pleich

In response to recent drastic cuts inhomeless services, a group of grass-roots activists and concerned citizenshave come together in Santa Cruz to

petition the local government to repeal theCamping Ban and create safe sleepingplaces for unsheltered persons.

The group has organized a series ofactions, including Community Camp Outsat the City Hall, to protest the increasingcriminalization of homeless people.

Freedom Sleepers is a coalition ofgroups, including Santa Cruz Food NotBombs, HUFF (Homeless United forFriendship and Freedom), HomelessPersons Legal Assistance Project and theCamp of Last Resort.

Freedom Sleeper and HUFF co-founder Robert Norse puts the goal of thegroup in perspective. “The right to sleepis the right to live,” Norse said. “This is acry of conscience. If enough people hear itand join us, things will change.”

Freedom Sleepers takes its name fromthe Freedom Riders of the 1960s.Founding member Rabbi Phil Posnerdecries the sleeping ban and the lack ofsafe sleeping spaces in the city.

“Santa Cruz has 116 acres of parks,including two reserved for dogs to play,”Posner said. “Having to sleep on a side-walk is both uncomfortable andunhealthy. Surely we can spare a fewacres where people may safely sleep,without fear of breaking the law!

“As a 1961 Freedom Rider, I served 39days in the Mississippi penitentiary fight-ing discrimination. I and others will con-tinue to resist discriminatory local ordi-nances which forbid individuals a placeand opportunity to sleep. We call uponour City Council to find a way to alleviatehomeless suffering.”

Freedom Sleepers held their thirdgroup campout at Santa Cruz City Hall onJuly 26. Several dozen people slept in theCity Hall courtyard from sunset until thefollowing morning. The July 26 sleep-inwas preceded by campouts on July 4 andJuly 19, which were organized after theHomeless Services Center announced inJune it was having severe budget issuesand would be losing a significant amountof state-administered federal funding.

In response to the imminent loss of a

wide variety of day services, a coalition ofhomeless rights groups, including SantaCruz Food Not Bombs, joined together tohost a series of free breakfasts next to thecenter. The City Hall campouts are thenext step in that response and are nowfocused on the broader issues surroundingthe criminalization of homelessness.

Says Santa Cruz Food Not Bombs co-founder Abbi Samuels, “Being a part ofthe Freedom Sleepers actions is where weneed to be as an organization that worksfor social justice. We will continue thisfight until justice is done and people cansafely and legally sleep.”

The coordinated actions have drawnsome response from City Hall. Santa CruzCity Councilmember Micah Posner saysthat he is willing to place the repeal of thecamping ban before the council for a full

public hearing. “My intention,” he said, “is to place

the issue on the City Council’s agendathis fall by asking the council to eitherrepeal the anti-sleeping ordinances orbegin a process to identify a place in thecity for homeless people to sleep. If youdon’t want to locate a place for them inthe city, what makes you think that theywill disappear? If you do support a legalplace, what would it be like?”

Freedom Sleepers is asking the entirecommunity to join them in these ongoingactions, but is mindful that participation atthe community campouts is an act of civildisobedience because it involves the vio-lation of multiple local ordinances.

One such ordinance closes the court-yard at City Hall to the public between thehours of 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. Another is the

primary focus of these actions: the city’scamping ban, which prohibits sleeping inpublic with or without bedding betweenthe hours of 11 p.m. and 8:30 a.m.

But even with this admonition,Freedom Sleepers believe the issue isimportant enough to put themselves inharm’s way. Says longtime homelessadvocate and attorney Ed Frey, “Sleep isnot just a constitutional right, it is a basichuman right whose denial is the very defi-nition of cruel and unusual punishment.”

Freedom Sleepers will continue theCommunity Campouts at City Hall whenthe City Council goes back into sessionafter a July hiatus. The first action isscheduled for Tuesday, August 11.

Steve Pleich is a Freedom Sleeper and anadvocate with the Santa Cruz HomelessPersons Advocacy Project.

Freedom Sleepers Demand Repeal of Camping Ban

The Freedom Sleepers held three sleep-ins at Santa Cruz City Hall in July to challenge the laws that criminalize homelessness.

“As a 1961 Freedom Rider, I served 39 days in the Mississippi penitentiary fighting dis-crimination. I and others will continue to resist discriminatory local ordinances whichforbid individuals a place and opportunity to sleep. We call upon our City Council to finda way to alleviate homeless suffering.” — Rabbi Phil Posner, founding member of the Freedom Sleepers

by Carol Denney

About a year ago, a jumble of ini-tials began to drift into conversa-tion about Berkeley’s crisis in

low-income housing and homelessness. Nobody seemed entirely clear on what

“HCRC” stood for. After scouring thetown for answers, one thing is clear:Nobody is entirely clear on what “HCRC”ultimately will mean for Berkeley.

The initials are easy: “HCRC” standsfor Housing Crisis Resolution Center,described as a “coordinated access system... a streamlined way for homeless peopleto access shelter, transitional and perma-nent housing and services,” according tothe City of Berkeley’s website.

“Coordinated” always sounds nifty.

“Streamlined” is even better. “Streamlined”is the phrase that pops up in planning cir-cles when they want to reduce the bumps inthe road for developers who get bruised ifthey’re obligated to interact too much withthe neighborhoods near a proposed projector mingle too often with interested commis-sions or community groups.

This centralized intake plan is a newHousing and Urban Development require-ment for getting government money for“homeless services” dollars, and the Cityof Berkeley wants to make sure it canqualify. But what exactly it will become isanybody’s guess right now.

The implication in the lofty wording ofannouncements about the project seem toimply more housing, but Berkeley’s lastlow-income housing expenditures wereabout 15 years ago, and involved rehab-bing existing low-income housing at UAHomes and Erna P. Harris Court.

But the concept of one-stop servicesremains compelling in a town where tryingto obtain food, shelter, and a place to storebelongings can mean endlessly hiking hith-er and yon. If a single intake systemenables people in need to be served better,and coordinated agencies can operate bet-ter, who could possibly object?

Especially since, according to the Cityof Berkeley, “by submitting this applica-tion, your Agency is agreeing to acceptreferrals for City of Berkeley funded ser-vices/housing exclusively from theHCRC.” And any agency coordinatingwith the HCRC must agree that all“intakes” will be done by HCRC staff.Raising too much fuss about the systemmight affect your funding.

Still, one can’t help but notice afterdecades of living in Berkeley, that all thiswrangling over intake forms, coordina-tion, and definitions hasn’t managed toproduce any additional low-income hous-ing or shelter beds.

Our nationwide housing crisis keepsroaring at a faster and faster pace, almost asfast as developers whip out their walletsand feed the status quo. The Bay Area’sscarce housing “opportunity sites,” onceidentified to a planning department, tend tobecome high-end condos for the wealthy.The pressure to kick out long-term andfixed-income tenants is like a powerful fire-hose, while the parade of high-end housingprojects seems impervious to the urgency ofthe low-income housing crisis.

What we know for sure is the HousingCrisis Resolution Center will be in charge

of all intakes and assessments regardingwho needs what services, and who “quali-fies” for help. It will produce interestingdata and require all related agencies to dothe same. This kind of data may be usefulin measuring and sizing up things in quan-tifiable ways, which is always powerful infunding services and programs. If you askthe right questions, and get honestanswers, you can learn things, qualify forgrants, guide programs, and apply fundingwhere funding is most needed.

But the right questions, the honestanswers, the best ways to get at the truth area tricky, sticky wicket. Note the DowntownBerkeley Association’s enthusiastic abuseof a 2015 poll in which the highest of theBerkeley public’s priorities was homeless-ness. The poll was swiftly used by CityCouncilmember Linda Maio to excuse anew raft of anti-homeless laws.

The best people to evaluate a systemare the people who experience it. As thisproject develops, it makes sense to try tomake sure the people it affects most havea voice in how it works, a powerful voiceso that it someday has the ability to workeven better in addressing human needswith the valuable guidance of people whoexperience it firsthand as clients.

The Brave New World of Centralized Intake in BerkeleyOne can’t help but noticethat all this wrangling overintake forms, coordination,and “centralized intake”hasn’t managed to produceany additional low-incomehousing or shelter beds.

August 2015ST R E E T SP I R I T4

by Lydia Gans

When a friendly person sellingStreet Spirit outside theBerkeley Bowl asked me to

autograph an article I had written in thepaper, I knew I had to write about thisman. Ralph Perry has been selling StreetSpirit at the Berkeley Bowl on and off forthe last 12 years. He is 64 years old.

Watching him offer the paper to theshoppers as they come by the BerkeleyBowl, I can see he likes what he’s doing.He talks about the different reactions hegets from people passing by. Sometimesthey’ll say something about the paper. Yetoccasionally they can be hostile.

“But every day is a blessing,” Perrysays. “God is good. And He brings mecloser to more good people.”

Unlike many sellers who never bother,Perry tells me he actually reads the paper.“You find out when you read it that it’svery interesting,” he said. “I live in thestreet, I don’t have TV or radio. Gives mesomething to do at night. I walk a lot and Iread the paper. I pray.”

He gave up the apartment he and hiswife were living in when she had a strokelast December. It is a way to save money,but he still has to cover the cost of storingtheir belongings. His wife is in rehab nowand he expects soon to be looking for anapartment. It might not be easy to find anaffordable place nearby. And she will prob-ably need help when she comes home.

They knew each other back when theywere both students at Berkeley High, andthey have been married for 12 years,going on 13.

Ralph grew up in Berkeley. “My child-hood was good,” he tells me. “I have lovingparents, loving brothers and sisters, 11 ofus, so I never was lonely. I love my family,we love each other, we’re close-knitted.”

Yet, even in his early years, his lifeseemed to go in the wrong direction. Hedescribes a continuous round of pettycrimes, jail time, and periods of legitimatework. He started when he was 11 years old.

“Me and my brother found a stash ofdrugs, which were called crystals then, andwe decided to learn how to shoot drugs,”Perry says. “That’s when I started.”

He tells of petty thefts and serving timein Santa Rita jail, and then getting marriedand working at Bay Meadows RaceTrack. At that point, he explains, “I ran

with the wrong crowd again.” The marriage didn’t last. He went back

to dealing drugs, and spent a term in SanQuentin. That was the pattern of his life upuntil 10 years ago. Seemingly, he couldalways find trouble when he was young.

“It was fun,” he says, recalling how hemade a fool of himself when he was 16.While trying to rob a Winchell’s, he actu-ally ran straight into the door trying to getout. Another time, he stole a package ofhamburger meat from Safeway and gotcaught as soon as he rounded the corner.

But somewhere along the way, itstopped being fun. The acts and the con-sequences got more serious. He talkedabout being robbed, being shot at, aboutlucky escapes and being imprisoned.

Ultimately, Perry had to change. “Iwaited till 53 to grow up,” he admits.

I asked what made him finally stop. “Igot tired. It was no longer fun — drugs,the people I’m with, any of it. I don’t needit. I just gave up. I’m tired.”

A cousin suggested he sell Street Spirit“to keep me out of trouble,” he says. Ittook a while, but it changed him.

“It was something new,” he says. “Ihad to interact with different people andI’ve always been kind of a withdrawn per-son. I stay by myself. I’m really not atalkative person. (When) I got out heredoing this, I learned how to communicate.Here it’s about communicating with peo-ple. When they see I give my heart to itbecause I believe in God and God knowsthat I’m here, they see it.”

As he talks, he sees that I’m impressedby what he is saying. He assures me thathe tells people they should read the paper.“Yes, you’re helping me but you’re alsolearning something that we did not knowand that’s important, to learn something.”

We look at the lead article in the cur-rent Street Spirit about Ground Zero’scampaign of nonviolent resistance to thenuclear arms race, which makes a power-ful impression on both of us.

“This has really caught my interest,”he says. “I’d like to know a lot moreabout it. Now I want to investigate.”

He is facing some major challengesnow. Social Security and governmentassistance won’t go far in providing foodand shelter for him and his wife while sheis disabled. Getting out to Berkeley Bowlwith the Street Spirit every day will keepup his spirits and a roof over their heads.

Selling Street Spirit Changed His Outlook on Life

Artistic Portraits Reveal the Human Faces in Our Midst

by Curtis Burbick

“Spare change? Maybe on the wayout?” This is a request I often hear voicedon the street scene in Berkeley, and this iswhat finally led me to begin producingpencil portraits after meeting these casualfriends.

Any one of the trio of individuals Ihave portrayed might be found just out-side the door of a coffee shop, asking for alittle help. It had been my habit at first tooffer a hand to them by responding with acontribution and some small talk.

Now, since I love to draw, it occurredto me that I might try to capture in mysketch book the energy and experiencesmapped on their faces, to capture thatengaging look they always wore when ourpaths crossed.

So I asked each one if I could take theirphotographs and draw their portraits. In aneffort to get their agreement to this, I startedshowing them some other drawings I haddone, and also assured them they wouldreceive a copy of their portrait.

I was quickly warming to this new ideaso much, that in getting a “yes, OK,” from

Walter, I began snapping a few shots ofhim and then began rendering his picture.And when a first draft was completed, Iapproached Nate, and then finally Donald.

After a few months spent at drawing,I’d finished all three portraits, and real-ized how new and exciting this venturewas. The evolution of it initially began forme with the casual befriending of thesethree, and included observing their per-suasive skills at conjuring funds often oncold mornings from passers-by.

This process culminated with the plea-sure and joy of my bringing them to life in

drawings on the pages of my sketchbook. This all was quite unique, seeming to

have more joy in it than I’d ever experi-enced before. I also noted it had takenmore time than expected. (“Oh Vincent,I’ve always envied your facility to pro-duce quick results.”)

And so? What were the conclusions andrewards? Well, Walter was delighted andwanted a copy for an old friend. Natealways greets me now with a thankfulsmile. Donald, the very gentle one, spokeproudly and warmly when pondering thecopies I gave him.

After meeting (from left to right) Nate, Donald and Walter on the streets of Berkeley, Curtis Burbick found a joyful artistic pursuit in creating these portraits of the men.

Ralph Perry’s life changed for the better as a Street Spirit vendor. Lydia Gans photo

August 2015 ST R E E T SP I R I T 5

Commentary by Jack Bragen

The American Civil War (1861 to1865) was the bloodiest in U.S.history, and its most crucial issue

was the abolition of slavery. Since then, ithas been a long, difficult, and sometimesbloody struggle for nonwhite people toreceive equal treatment in America. Andour country is not there yet.

While the election of Barack Obama tothe presidency was initially greeted as ahopeful sign of progress by many, oldresentment has flared among white racistpeople in southern states and elsewhere.Petitions have been circulated in severalstates advocating for them to secede fromthe United States — the same historicaction that triggered the Civil War.

White police officers across the nationhave repeatedly killed innocent African-American men. All too often, they havebeen getting away with this and are rarelypunished by racially biased court systems.

On July 17, 2014, Eric Garner died of achokehold inflicted by NYPD officers.

Michael Brown was murdered by thepolice in Ferguson, Missouri, on August 9,2014, over an alleged theft of cigarillos.

Two days later, on August 11, EzellFord, an African American man with a his-tory of mental illness, was brutally killed byLos Angeles police — shot in the backthree times after he was physically subdued.

Jason Harrison, whose mother hadphoned police to have him taken to the hos-pital when he was in mental crisis andneeded help, was shot to death on June 14,2014, by Dallas police because he washolding a small screwdriver. The policeclaimed it was a deadly weapon.

These deaths of four young AfricanAmerican men received a lot of publicity.Yet there have been hundreds more police-inflicted deaths like these that apparentlyhave gone unnoticed because the massmedia have not given them coverage.

When these horrible incidents arerecorded on people’s video equipment, itis a powerful way to refute police officersand others in positions of power who lieabout their actions to avoid prosecution.When the beating of Rodney King wasrecorded with video equipment, it was thebeginning of the use of this powerful tool.

We have been told that parents of

young African American men must givethem a talk when they are growing up —not about “the birds and the bees,” butabout how to behave when approached bypolice officers. Black men apparently areautomatically presumed guilty by all toomany white police officers.

It is ironic that these police murders, andthe nationwide protests of these horrificincidents, have occurred while we have ablack president. Because the president ofthe United States does not have unlimitedpowers, President Obama appears to behelpless to stop the brutality.

It is as though many police officers inour nation have a personal vendetta againstblack people. The incidents that have beenreported are not unique; it is just that peoplehave captured the video on their cameraphones. When people see the brutality ontelevision or on the Internet, it becomes apowerful mobilizing force.

President Obama’s election becamepossible in part due to the help of demo-graphic changes in the United States. Thereliance of giant corporations on importedlabor in order to avoid paying fair wagesto employees has backfired on the verysame members of the ultra-wealthy elite,and has allowed a higher number ofLatino immigrants into the United States,

many of whom have ultimately becomeU.S. citizens, and have voted.

Furthermore, after Al Gore lost toGeorge W. Bush in the 2000 presidentialelection, the issue of disenfranchisementamong African American voters gainedmore attention. When Bush was put inoffice, initially via the Supreme Court rul-ing, millions of conscientious voters wereoutraged. There were extremely long linesat polling places where African Americanvoters were predominant. There also mayhave been miscounting in Florida, whereJeb Bush was governor.

By the time Obama ran in the 2008 elec-tion, the issue of voter disenfranchisementmay have been at least partially resolvedbecause of the public attention it received.

Obama’s election may be one reasonamong many why a minority of bigotedwhite people, among them police, haveonce again directed their violence and dis-honesty at African American citizens.

As a Caucasian mentally ill man, I havefelt a billy club smacking my head, I havefelt handcuffs on my wrists, and I havebeen incarcerated under the incorrect pre-sumption that my behavior was due tobeing “on drugs.”

I haven’t always been treated well bypolice, but I haven’t so far been shot to

death. The fact that I haven’t been summar-ily shot to death could partly be due to notbeing African American. Yet, it is veryclear to me that the U.S. needs some kind ofconstitutional amendment that will makecops more accountable and less brutal.

It appears that the African-Americancommunity will not rest until there is jus-tice, in which police will no longer beimmune to legal retribution when theyslaughter innocent people. The whiteracists are outnumbered and are not happyabout this.

The horrible massacre of nine peoplein an historic civil rights church, theEmanuel African Methodist EpiscopalChurch in Charleston, South Carolina, onJune 17, 2015, is yet another outburst ofracist violence directed against AfricanAmericans. Dylann Roof, a young whiteman, has admitted committing these mur-ders as an act of white racism. It is crucialfor all people of conscience to demand anend to the scourge of racism, raciallymotivated murders, and police brutality.

The United States could either go inthe direction of a police state, or the pen-dulum could swing the other way, and wecould see a new era of everyone trulyreceiving equal protection under the law.

Speaking Out Against Police Violence and Racism

A Los Angeles protest of the police killings of Ezell Ford and Michael Brown held at the LAPD headquarters onAugust 17, 2014. A demonstrator records the protest. Videos are now a powerful tool to document police violence.

Craig Dietrichphoto

These recent deaths of youngAfrican American men havereceived a lot of publicity. Yethundreds more police-inflict-ed deaths like these have notbeen reported by the media.

by Carol Denney

Trying to talk to people about anti-homeless laws is like entering ahall of mirrors.

Whether you’re trying to talk about theoriginal laws proposed by BerkeleyCouncilmember Linda Maio and theDowntown Berkeley Association (DBA),and provisionally passed by the CityCouncil on March 17, 2015, or Maio’smiddle-of-the-night amendments on June30, 2015, or the growing mountain of laws

targeting “problematic street behavior” incities nationwide, the discussion tends toindiscriminately group very different indi-viduals into a single category.

Rowdy high school kids, drunks,junkies, recently evicted families, homelesswomen, people recently released from jail,panhandlers, youth, the LGBT population,people with dogs, people too poor to affordthe Bay Area’s skyrocketing rents, peoplewho threaten others, people who urinate inpublic, people with mental illness, peopletraveling through town for a concert or jobprospect, and people with a lot of belong-ings to shepherd through town with nolegal place to go, all get discussed asthough they are all the same.

It’s dizzying. The composite picture inthe minds of people who promote anti-homeless laws is a predictable nightmare.

It’s as though all the groups in the preced-ing paragraph were put in a bag, shakentogether and merged into one, and the ensu-ing discussions, even honest efforts to findcommon ground, get shipwrecked becausenobody is having the same discussion.

Bathrooms are a great example. TheDBA, with no particular objection from theCity Council, is well on its way to succeed-ing in avoiding having a public bathroom inthe BART Plaza redesign despite its beingthe best, most logical place for a publicbathroom in the downtown area.

The DBA scrambles to look pro-bath-room in public by promoting BART’sopening its bathrooms (closed as a securi-ty risk after 9-11), and promoting the ideathat city garages and other out-of-the-wayplaces could take up some of the slack.

But in private documents, they call

bathrooms “an attractive nuisance” andrecommend against them despite the obvi-ous irony of DBA CEO’s John Caner’svery public and very indignant complaintsabout the inevitable result.

Let’s have the same discussion aboutthe same issues. Many of the issues we’dlike to solve as a community are easy tosolve. And perhaps the easiest, in theory,is housing our working class and poor.

If all development going forward werededicated to addressing our crisis in low-income housing instead of being a parlorgame played by politicians on behalf ofwealthy developers who are generousaround campaign time, we would have ahealthy head start.

We could have housed all of our poorand homeless residents — a relatively smallnumber — long ago. Let’s get started.

All Shook Up: How Human Beings Are Turned into CategoriesWhen many diverse individ-uals are lumped into a singlecategory, the result is unfairand terribly misleading.

August 2015ST R E E T SP I R I T6

Book Review by Paul Von Blum

House Keys Not Handcuffs, by PaulBoden, a dramatic and disconcerting bookon homeless organizing, art and policy inSan Francisco and elsewhere, begins withthis personal quotation that puts home-lessness in the compelling human per-spective it demands: “Holy shit, it is timeto go home and I got nowhere to go.”

Millions of women, men and childrenlive precarious lives on American streetsand shelters, tragically beyond the con-cern, empathy and often even awarenessof the overwhelming majority of theirmore privileged fellow citizens. Theplight of the homeless, for political “lead-ers,” is mostly a mere annoyance. Theyare an irritant to public officials and afruitful source of arrest statistics for policedepartments throughout the nation.

Far too many Americans avoid contactwith homeless people, whom they regardas distasteful and inconvenient —unpleasant reminders of the huge gap inwealth and privilege in this country.Conservatives (and many others) like totell themselves that homeless people arethere by choice, simply because of theirunwillingness to work hard, defer gratifi-cation and live according to society’srules and standards.

By emphasizing house keys instead ofhandcuffs in the title, Boden deliberatelyasks his readers to understand that thehomeless need homes and serious socialand public health services, not arrests,prosecution, police harassment and thecontinuing criminalization of the poor inAmerica. This is a central theme of thispowerful volume.

It calls justifiable and powerful atten-tion to the long record of using lawsagainst trespassing, panhandling, loiter-ing, vagrancy, disorderly conduct andmany other variants to punish poor peopleand exacerbate their misery and despera-tion. Drug and alcohol laws are also toolsin the seemingly limitless arsenal of lawenforcement authorities.

Police officials likewise use injunctionsand “orders to vacate” and regularly confis-cate the meager possessions of the home-less, bringing additional despair to thesemarginalized human beings. With unafford-able fines and excessive bails, homelesspeople often spend time in local jails,adding criminal records to the already com-plex burdens of their lives. This makes iteven more difficult for them to findemployment and to obtain the medical andpsychological services they require.

This criminalization reflects the nation-al mania for “broken windows” policing,which ostensibly focuses on small crimeslike vandalism, public drinking and loiter-ing in order to prevent more seriouscrimes. This is a transparent rationaliza-tion for social policies that reinforceracism, classism and economic injustice,including the appalling numbers of home-less people in America.

Broken windows policing has led tosuch injustices as “stop and frisk” laws andother policies that disproportionately targetpeople of color. At its worst, broken win-dows policing leads to the deaths ofunarmed people. One of the most egregiousexamples occurred in 2014 when NewYork Police Department officers in StatenIsland killed an African-American man

with a chokehold after seeking to arrest himfor allegedly selling loose cigarettes.

The book also provides a deeper under-standing of the homelessness crisis in theBay Area and, by extension, throughout thecountry. It provides a detailed narrative ofthe organizing and political activities of 30years of homeless organizing in SanFrancisco. It offers an outstanding guide forcontemporary activists about what hasworked and what has not. It also discussesthe Western Regional Advocacy Project(WRAP), which was created to expose andeliminate the root causes of poverty andhomelessness in that region.

In its decade of existence, WRAP hasserved as a model of community organiz-ing that goes far beyond the single issueof not having houses for people experi-encing massive poverty. Its broad-basedfocus on social justice addresses childabuse and domestic violence, downsizingand layoffs, racism, unlawful evictionsand other illegal actions, government bud-get cuts, inadequate or nonexistent mentalhealth treatment and many related issues.

WRAP has several constituent membergroups, and its efforts go beyond the BayArea. This form of coalition building is auseful guide for other activists seeking tochange society at the grass-roots level,especially in a nation that has experiencedthe greatest degree of inequality of wealthand income in almost a century.

One striking feature of House Keys NotHandcuffs is the story of Street Sheet, toldthrough a series of its articles from 1991to 2014. Street Sheet is published by theCoalition on Homelessness and sold inSan Francisco. It contains articles aboutthe problems of the homeless populationand is the oldest street newspaper in theUnited States.

Vendors distribute the newspaper on thestreets of San Francisco, selling it for $1.The homeless and low-income vendors paynothing for the papers and keep all themoney they receive. These vendors are, infact, men and women who are actuallyworking; they might otherwise be holdingcups and begging for spare change, per-haps with signs reading “Will Work forFood” or “Have a Blessed Day.”

Each month, Street Sheet reaches32,000 readers and provides a voice forthe voiceless. The paper encourages themto write about life, politics and anythingelse from their perspective. That vision isa conspicuous and dramatic contrast to themainstream media in America.

The most engaging element of this bookis its inclusion of 67 powerful pieces of art,making this volume a striking collection ofcontemporary, socially conscious art. Theseworks are introduced in an essay by ArtHazelwood, “We Won’t Be Made Invisible:Art of Homeless Activism.”

Hazelwood is a veteran artist/activistwhose works have made a major contribu-tion to the recent history of political art,especially in California. He has beenresponsible for making Street Sheet a news-paper where art by and about homeless peo-ple has been published and become avail-able to large audiences. His personal art-work has graced the pages of Street Sheetfor many years. Several of Hazelwood’spieces appear in House Keys NotHandcuffs, allowing readers a splendidsample of his work addressing homeless-ness, poverty and related themes.

As a curator, Hazelwood has assem-bled several exhibitions that reflected hisexemplary commitment to using art in thelong struggle for social change. “Hobos toStreet People: Artists’ Responses toHomelessness From the New Deal to thePresent,” which ran from 2009 to 2012, ismost closely linked to the themes in thecurrent book. That exhibition, which wasshown in various California venues, fea-tured both iconic artists from theDepression era and contemporary artistsdealing with the seemingly endless strug-gle against poverty.

In House Keys, Not Handcuffs,Hazelwood has gathered a stunning groupof contributing artists, including somemajor figures in contemporary politicalart. Readers and viewers who follow visu-al arts will recognize names such as EricDrooker, Jos Sances, Doug Minkler,Christine Hanlon, Hazelwood himself andothers. Notably, several unidentified visu-al artists also appear in this book, as wellas works from the San Francisco PrintCollective and other sources.

Above all, the book’s inclusion of theseprovocative artworks reveals once againthat the arts are an integral feature of thelong struggle for social justice, not a merecultural adjunct to organizing and concertedpolitical action. Throughout history, visualartists have mobilized their talents to sup-port movements for social change.

In the United States, visual artists haveplayed prominent roles in the civil rightsmovement, and, more recently, many havebeen extremely active in demonstrationssupporting “Black Lives Matter” actions.Painters, muralists, poster artists, printmak-ers, photographers and others have alsobeen deeply involved in the Chicano,Asian-American, Native American and

other ethnic struggles, the gay and lesbianmovement, the environmental movement,various anti-war resistance activities andevery other progressive movement.

Eric Drooker’s 2008 drawing for StreetSheet, reprinted in the book, is an excellentand unnerving example of the link betweenvisual arts and the broader struggle forsocial justice. The artist’s image of a men-acing police officer standing in front of abuilding representing City Hall, with a clubswinging in his hand, signifies the dubiouspolicy of governmental repression againstthe homeless. The Street Sheet headline,“Police Kill Man Panhandling, No CrimesCharged,” hanging over the drawing under-scores the continued violence againstAmerica’s most vulnerable population.Underneath Drooker’s work, the articleabout cruel and unusual budget cuts under-scores official indifference, offering StreetSheet’s readers a partisan yet accurate viewof official policy regarding homelessness inSan Francisco.

House Keys Not Handcuffs is a persua-sive reminder of the tremendous work thatremains to be done to close the gap betweenAmerican ideals and American realities.Paul Boden ruefully notes at the book’sconclusion that the government neverstopped investing in housing; it merelystopped investing in housing for the poor.Boden and fellow homeless advocatesknow that there is a desperate need for fed-eral funding for affordable housing.

Beyond that, more fundamental sys-temic change is required to end homeless-ness and provide the educational, employ-ment, health care and other services that adecent and humane society should guaran-tee to everyone. This book represents asmall but valuable step in generating thatconsciousness.

House Keys Not HandcuffsHomeless Organizing, Art and PoliticsPolice use laws against trespassing, panhandling, loitering,vagrancy and disorderly conduct to punish poor people andexacerbate their misery and desperation. They also confis-cate their meager possessions, bringing additional despair.

Paul Boden, the director of WRAP, is the author of House Keys Not Handcuffs.

At the State Capitol, activists carry “House Keys Not Handcuffs”posters to protest the steep rise in anti-homeless laws in California.

Photo credit:Janny Castillo

August 2015 ST R E E T SP I R I T 7

Aa Ambassador literally tries to sweep away homeless people in down-town Berkeley, and then orders the homeless men to leave the area.

Carol Denneyphoto

Peace and Justice Commission Eric Brenman, Secretary 2180 Milvia Street, 2nd Floor Berkeley CA 94704

& Secretary Andrew Wicker, Commission on Homeless

Dear Commissioners,Yesterday, July 1st, 2015, at around

10:30 a.m., I witnessed a Block by Block"ambassador" sweeping directly aroundand within inches of a man who wascurled up under a blanket near the curb onShattuck Avenue at Kittredge.

I had witnessed this strange sweepingharassment technique by the Block byBlock employees personally twice beforeand had hoped that the commission's focuson the Block by Block program employees'abuses might have curbed it, but clearly thispeople-sweeping "beautification" techniquecontinues to be used to harass people withlots of belongings with them and/or peoplewho are trying to get some rest.

There was plenty to clean elsewhere inthe area, but the employee continued tosweep directly around the body and

belongings of the man with the blanketand his friend, who stood quietly watch-ing in amazement as did I.

He and his friend were told they had tomove, and they did move, quickly gather-ing their belongings.

By the time I got my camera out, shemoved her broom and dustpan down intothe gutter and began sweeping there,which is not quite as offensive, but shedefinitely was being instructed by LanceGoree, who was nearby watching careful-ly while pretending to clean a phonebooth. He seemed to be speaking intosome kind of microphone. He turned hisback and walked away from me when Itried to take his picture, but circled backto watch again as the men picked up theirthings and left.

I hope your Commission will renew itsrequest to have Block by Block employ-ees refrain from this kind of "beautifica-tion" activity. It demeans us as a commu-nity to have people treated like trash.

Sincerely, Carol Denney

DBA Ambassadors SweepPeople Away ‘Like Trash’

Open Letter to the Berkeley Peace and Justice Commission

by Lynda Carson

On July 16, Public Advocates, anonprofit law firm that workson the issues of poverty andracial discrimination,

announced that the City of Oakland was“bowing to community pressure” andinviting new proposals for affordablehousing at a parcel of land on LakeMerritt’s East 12th Street after localgroups had protested against it as an ille-gal land deal.

Oakland activists strongly condemnedthe original deal to sell the city-owned par-cel of land to UrbanCore, a developer thatplanned to construct a 20-story tower with300 units of luxurious, upscale housing.Public Advocates and Eastlake United forJustice charged that the deal was in viola-tion of the Surplus Land Act governing thesale of publicly owned land.

“We are very excited about the city’sdecision to comply with the law andaddress community concerns by re-open-ing the process,” said Monica Garcia, wholives just two blocks from the site, and is amember of Eastlake United for Justice, aneighborhood group advocating foraffordable housing in Oakland.

“As we move forward we urge the cityto work with the community to ensure thataffordable housing is built on the E. 12thparcel, and remain true to the idea thatpublic land should be used for the publicgood,” Garcia said.

Now that the land deal that would haveillegally benefited UrbanCore has beenscuttled by city officials and the parcel isnow up for bid as a possible site for so-called affordable housing, the questionarises as to what kind of affordable hous-ing site it will eventually become.

Many already question whether the so-called affordable housing projects inOakland and the Bay Area are reallyaffordable to most disabled personsreceiving their income through SSI, or areaffordable for retired persons receivingSocial Security. It is evident that many arenot affordable to low-income people.

As one example, in 2014, at theAvalon Senior Housing project located at3850 San Pablo in Oakland, the East BayAsian Local Development Corporation(EBALDC) required that people seeking

housing at this subsidized housing projectmust have a minimum income of at leasttwice the rent. Studio apartments weregoing for $600.00 a month at this project,one-bedroom apartments were going foras high as $712.00 per month, and two-bedroom apartments were going for$845.00. Many low-income, disabled per-sons receiving SSI disability paymentsand retired persons on Social Securitycould not afford to reside there due to theminimum income requirements.

In 2014, the average monthly SocialSecurity check for a single retired workerwas $1,294.00. Many retired and disabledworkers earn much less than $1,294.00per month as Social Security income orSSI, and as a result, retired and disabledpersons face exclusion at many so-calledaffordable housing projects in Oakland,and throughout the Bay Area.

The average SSI (disability) benefitpayment in California was $877.40 permonth. The average TANF (CalWorks)family in California is an adult with twochildren that receives $510 a month inbenefits. General Assistance in Californiaduring 2014 paid $336 per month to a sin-gle person. Food Stamps were $189 permonth, and persons receiving SSI/SSP arenot allowed in the program.

When taking a closer look at many so-called affordable housing projects inOakland and the Bay Area, it appears thatunless the disabled persons receiving SSIor Social Security benefits also haveSection 8 housing vouchers (HousingChoice Vouchers), most disabled personson SSI and retired persons on SocialSecurity do not have an income highenough to reside in many affordable hous-ing projects.

IRONHORSE HOUSING IN OAKLAND

As another example of a project with“minimum income requirements” that dis-criminate against the poor and disabled,we can look at the Ironhorse affordablehousing project at Central Station, a 99-unit housing project developed by BridgeHousing. The project is funded in part bya federally regulated government programcalled the Low Income Housing TaxCredit Program (LIHTC), as well as othersources of funding to subsidize the hous-ing project, according to Bridge Housing.

In 2010, Bridge Housing announcedthat the Ironhorse so-called affordablehousing project delivers 99 apartments forfamilies earning up to 50 percent of thelocal area medium income (AMI).

Out of 99 apartments, there are 20housing units at Ironhorse set aside forthose with the lowest incomes residing inunits receiving rent subsidies from thefederal government through the OaklandHousing Authority.

The Ironhorse project owned by BridgeHousing demands that a person seeking torent a one-bedroom apartment for $460per month, must earn between $15,771 to$19,650 per year to reside in what iscalled Tier 1. The minimum incomerequirement is way more than the averageretired person on Social Security, or a dis-abled person on SSI earns, and leavesthem out in the cold unless they have aSection 8 voucher.

In Tier 2 at Ironhorse, a person rentinga one-bedroom apartment that rents for$541 per month, must have an incomebetween $18,549 to $22,925 per year. InTier 3, Bridge Housing demands that aperson renting a one-bedroom apartmentfor $622 per month, must have an incomebetween $21,326 to $26,200. There are nominimum income requirements forSection 8 applicants (Housing ChoiceVoucher Applicants), according to theirapplication documents.

The harsh reality at this so-calledaffordable housing project subsidized bytaxpayers is that most disabled persons onSSI, or retired persons with SocialSecurity as an income, face discriminationat this site due to the “minimum incomerequirements” imposed by BridgeHousing, a $2 billion so-called nonprofithousing developer.

Many other affordable housing projectsin the Bay Area are imposing minimumincome requirements that end up excludingcountless poor, disabled, senior and home-less tenants from ever being considered forhousing. Many of these housing complexesare praised as supposed places where thenation is demonstrating its commitment tohelping disabled and poor people to findhousing. But once we do the math and addup the rental costs, we find that too manydeserving people are excluded.

The Problem of So-Called Affordable Housing The RevolutionariesMet Todayby Carol Denney

the revolutionaries met today to show the world a better wayand the men all had a lot to sayand the women cleaned up afterthe women cleaned up afterthe women cleaned up afterthe men all had a lot to sayand the women cleaned up after

the revolutionaries marched alongthey chanted and they sang a songthey all went on about what's wrongand the women brought the foodthe women brought the foodthe women brought the foodand on and on about what's wrongand the women brought the food

the revolutionaries made a pact to blow things up and not look backand always have each others' backand the women paid the rentthe women paid the rentthe women paid the rentand always have each others' backand the women paid the rent

After an NPR Newscastby Claire J. Baker

"Birds are on the decline,"especially sparrows and larks,while "twittering people"are on the rise —don't ask this poet why or now.

Dear remaining birds,if you have a song to sing,please sing it now.

At the VA Clinicby Claire J. Baker

A veteran of Koreashuttles patientsand visitors

all around the grounds.In spare time, he makesmaple and oak canes

for younger vets,paints the fresh canesred-white-and-blue.

August 2015ST R E E T SP I R I T8

Short Story by Jack Bragen

Iwasn’t looking my best that morning. Ihadn’t shaved for a few days and myhair was unwashed following a gruel-

ing experience at the IRS. Still, I had to goout in public to get some groceries, as myrefrigerator and cupboards were bare.

I had arranged for some time off frommy job at the law firm, where I worked as afile clerk and word processor. I thought itwould be good enough to put on a hat formy trip to the grocery store so I wouldn’tfreak people out with my dirty hair.

When I got out of my car, an old modelToyota that barely ran and that I was soonintending to replace, I noticed a uni-formed man who stood next to theentrance to the grocery store. However, Ididn’t recognize the uniform, nor did Iknow what it represented. I tipped my hatto the gentleman, and I proceeded to gointo the store for groceries.

I exited the store with a cartload offood. Abruptly, I noticed that there was atow truck, and realized that it was myvehicle being towed. Then I saw that twomore uniformed men had joined the first,and they were looking at me.

“What the hell!” I exclaimed. I walkedtoward the tow truck, hoping to have aword with the tow driver. I turned around atthe sound of my shopping cart rolling, and Isaw it strike the bumper of someone’s newCamry. The Camry owner got out of his carand was obviously quite angry. I profuselyapologized to the Camry owner and gavehim my insurance information.

Meanwhile, my vehicle was gone, and Iwas stranded there with a cartload of gro-ceries. I checked for my cellphone and real-ized it was in my shirt pocket as usual. Iwas going to phone for a taxicab, when thethree unformed men closed in on me.

HOMELESS DETENTION

“Take off your hat and your glasses,”they ordered.

I replied, “I will do nothing of thekind.”

“You are under citizen’s arrest. Youhad better cooperate.”

Another of the uniformed men said,“We’re here to help. You deserve a home.”

“You’re obviously homeless and youneed our help,” said the third. However,his tone wasn’t sympathetic, it was coldand hostile.

“Turn around.” A number of spectators had gathered,

and a couple of them were laughing.The man held a Taser and it was aimed

at my chest. I again reached for my phonewith the intent of calling the police. Theman’s Taser went off, and I hit the groundfrom the shock. My grocery cart beganrolling again, and one of the three mengrabbed it.

One of the men sat on top of me, whileanother wound wire around my wrists.They pulled me to my feet, and I wasescorted to the back of a van. Two of themen got into the van with me, and as thevan was driven off, I noted that my gro-ceries were being loaded into the thirdman’s new Chevrolet.

“You assholes,” I shouted. “You will speak to us respectfully or

we will punish you.” “What is this about? Do you think I’m

homeless or something? Am I being takento the Homeless Reserve?”

“It is clear that you need our help.”

“I’m not homeless. I have a job and Irent a very nice apartment.”

“That is obviously not true. You wereliving in your car.”

Under his breath, one of the two menin the van said to the other something Iwasn’t intended to hear. “Could he be apsychotic?”

The other replied, also quietly, “Ofcourse he is.”

“When we take a rest stop, we willgive you some medication that we hopewill make you feel better.”

My wrists hurt a lot from the wirewound around them, and my hands hadgone numb from lack of blood circulation.

“Can you loosen these wires? Myhands are going to fall off.”

“We’ll see to your needs when we stopfor gas. That will be in another 50 miles.”

The van drove endlessly and I realizedwe were headed for the desert. I surmisedgrimly that I was to be put into theHomeless Reservation. I had never heardof anyone leaving there, either alive ordeceased. It was a way that people essen-tially disappeared, never to be heard fromagain. Politicians had arrived at what theybelieved to be a final solution to the“problem” of homeless people.

WELCOME TO THE RESERVATION

The van entered the front gate of thefacility, and I saw barbed-wire fencesstretching into the distance.

I mouthed an obscenity.“Not another word from you.” The van drove down a narrow strip of

pavement flanked by flat, dry, barrenground. Not even an occasional tuft of grasswas visible. We reached a giant complex ofbungalows. Letters and numbers were visi-ble on the buildings as the van drovethrough the middle of the complex.

The driver stopped and put the vehiclein park. He retrieved a cellphone from hiswaist, but first his hand hovered over theTaser weapon, as though he was temptedto use it again. He spoke into the phone.

“This is G. H. 37, and we have a cus-tomer, male, code one-nine-five. We arein the middle of the compound. Whereshould we bring the customer?”

The reply was audible to me. “We seeyou and will meet you at your currentlocation.” The voice on the other endapparently chortled before hanging up.

Five uniformed men emerged from thepassageways that ran between bungalowsand stood adjacent to the van. Four ofthem were smiling, while the fifth had ablank expression on his face. The door tothe van slid open.

“Step out.” With difficulty due to my hands being

tied, I stepped out of the van. My handswere killing me because of the wirearound my wrists. I was incredibly thirsty,and my bladder was full to the point ofbeing painful. One of the men snipped thewire off my wrists.

“A bit tight, huh?” the man said. I nod-ded. He said, in an odd tone, “Don’tworry, it is not so bad here.”

The same man walked to the driver’swindow of the van and handed the driveran envelope. The driver nodded, openedthe envelope, and counted out a huge wadof cash. He smiled, started the ignition,and the van drove off in the directionfrom where we had come.

“Welcome to Fantasy Island.”

I was led to a portapotty where I peedendlessly. My hands throbbed from thereinstatement of blood circulation. Ikneaded them and flexed them. I steppedout of the porta-potty.

ALONE AND FORSAKEN

The setting sun was unmitigated byeven the smallest wisp of cloud, and thedry, flat dirt that was everywhere was fea-tureless. However, I could see mountainsat a great distance, almost invisiblebecause of a layer of brownish haze. I feltutter despair, and it was all I could do notto cry.

“It is five o’clock, and you have timefor two hours of work.”

I lay on my assigned bunk, and mymind was filled with thoughts of doom.Soon, others entered the room, took turnsdrinking tepid water from a water foun-tain, and got onto their bunks.

“New guy?” “Yeah, this is a new one. He looks

well-maintained.”“That will change.” “Don’t worry, sir. We’re nice here.

We’re not mean and nasty like in a regu-lar prison. What’s your name?”

I replied, “John. And I don’t belonghere.”

“None of us does, Max.” “I said my name is John.”“I heard that. Now your name is Max.

Like Mad Max because you’re mad.” “Okay,” I replied, “you can call me

Max.” I made friends with several of the men.

I was told there was a section for femaledetainees, but we would never be able toaccess that area. A man had pointed to anelectrified fence on the south side of thegrounds. “Damn,” he had said.

The days were full of pointless, back-breaking work that didn’t produce any-thing. The food was scant and barely edi-ble. And there was no entertainmentexcept for a couple of decks of cards thathad been smuggled in. One morning Iawoke with an idea...

AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND

I asked around about a cellphone it wasrumored one of the men had. I didn’t makeany progress for the next week, and didn’twant to push it for fear of the guards find-ing out. Then someone woke me at aboutthree in the morning. He put a hand to mymouth and whispered to remain quiet. Irealized this was one of the staff of thefacility. It was the cook. All the men in the

room were busily sleeping, and it wouldhave taken a lot to awaken them.

He led me to the back of the main staffbuilding, and I was terrified that it wassome sort of trick that would lead to pun-ishment. Between two of the bricks was alandline phone wire that clearly no onewould ever notice. The cook retrieved aminiature phone from his pocket, connectedit to the phone wire and handed it to me.

“You don’t owe me for this,” he said.“This is a friend’s gesture. You can talk aslong as you want.”

I phoned the law office where I hadworked up until being detained, and I lefta detailed voicemail. I shook hands withthe cook. “I do owe you,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it. This should notbe done to any human being.”

BACK TO “CIVILIZATION”When I was taken back to civilization,

I was treated almost as badly as when Ihad been detained. I was dropped off infront of the same supermarket where I hadbeen detained six months previously.

The wires on my wrists were removed,and I stood there, a spectacle in the middleof Monday afternoon shoppers. My cell-phone was given back to me. I lookedaround and saw that the same uniformedman who had arrested me months beforestood in the same spot, and stared at me asif he was about to arrest me all over again.

I phoned a cousin who lived nearby. Icouldn’t be caught loitering, and I realizedI had the same 20 dollars in my pantspocket that I originally had. I went intoStarbucks, ordered a drink, and waited tobe picked up by my cousin. I wondered ifI would ever feel safe again.

The Homeless ReservationI surmised grimly that I was to be put into the HomelessReservation. I had never heard of anyone leaving there,alive or dead. People disappeared, never to be heard fromagain. Politicians had arrived at the final solution to the“problem” of homeless people.

A societal clampdown on anyone who appears to be homeless. Art by “Moby” Theobald

“It Is What It Is”by Claire J. Baker

I dislike that glibsumming up ofhurtful experience:"It is what it is."What happened tosincere concern?A long warm hug?Tears shared?Tissues provided?A ride hometo a warm bed?

Have we forgottenhow to be kindas in kind-red?

August 2015 ST R E E T SP I R I T 9

by Jack Bragen

The U.S. government has a 239-year history of medical experi-mentation on human beingswithout our knowledge or con-

sent, beginning with unethical experi-ments that were conducted on slaves. Insome instances, mutilating surgeries wereperformed without anesthesia.

Experiments have been conducted bythe military, in secret, on U.S. soldiers,citizens and entire towns. Experimentshave been conducted by physicians —people in whom we have put our trust —on African American people, on children,on the disabled, and on those less able tospeak up on their own behalf.

It is a shocking and disgraceful legacy.People have been unknowingly exposedto radiation. People have been intentional-ly infected with pathogens without beingtold of this. People have been infectedwith syphilis, not informed and not treat-ed. People with mental illness have beenexposed to LSD. A man forced into astudy comparing three of the newer “atyp-ical antipsychotics” committed suicide.

After only a brief amount of research, Ifound massive piles of literature reporting

on unethical experimentation on humansin the United States. To even begin toreport on this subject would take years.

So, drawing on my own experiences asa mental health consumer, I will narrowmy focus and report on some recent casesof medical experimentation involvingpeople with mental health issues.

It is clear that the American people areconsidered a giant pool of experimentalsubjects for drug companies. Persons diag-nosed with mental illness — those who aremarginalized in society and who often can-not speak on our own behalf — are experi-mented upon, often without our consent andagainst our own best interests. In someinstances, this is considered legal. In thename of science, doctors have experi-mented for many decades on mentally illpeople and continue to do so today. Insome instances, this is done without ourinformed consent or knowledge.

When the massively wealthy drugcompanies come out with new medica-tions for mentally ill people to take, thelong-term side effects are not known untilpeople have been exposed to these med-ications for ten years or more.

In recent years, “atypical antipsychot-ic” drugs were widely prescribed to peo-ple, and it was asserted falsely that thesepowerful drugs didn’t cause extrapyrami-dal side effects, including tardive dyskine-sia and other harmful symptoms. Tardivedyskinesia is a disfiguring disability thatinvolves involuntary movements of the

tongue, mouth, face and neck. Much ofthe time it is irreversible, and may contin-ue to afflict patients even when antipsy-chotic medication is discontinued.

When I began Zyprexa, one of thewidely prescribed atypical antipsychoticdrugs, I was at a normal weight and I wasquite healthy. Over time, I gained moreand more weight, about ten pounds peryear, until I became a hundred poundsoverweight. I became diabetic. Patientsoften are not warned that massive weightgain and diabetes are common outcomes.

I continue to take this medicationbecause it works well for me in controllingaggression, and in calming me down.However, now I have cut out about 90 per-cent of the refined sugar from my diet, andI am sure to get in a fair amount of fruitsand vegetables. I’ve lost about 30 poundsof the weight, and my blood sugar hasgone down. I am an example of someonewho has narrowly averted a health disaster.I know of others less fortunate.

In addition, typical diabetes medica-tions may cause weight gain over timebecause they work to move blood sugarfrom the bloodstream and into the body’scells. The sugar has to go somewhere, anddiabetes medications cause the sugar to bemore efficiently metabolized. Thus, in thelong run, diabetes medications can perpet-uate the disease, because they worsen theroot cause of the disease: weight.

If you watch any television at all, per-haps you have seen the endless advertise-

ments for newly patented medications.Because of laws that require disclosure ofside effects, we hear of a multitude ofpossible side effects. Drugs used to treatautoimmune diseases such as arthritiswork by means of weakening the immunesystem, and thus, patients are subject todeadly infections.

Antipsychotic medications are nowbeing promoted as a way of fightingdepression. This works by suppressing thehigher mental functions, and the resultantneurological damage is a very seriousconsequence of treating depression via achemical suppression of the mind. Insome cases, perhaps the depressed personis still depressed but is no longer aware ofit, or is now unable to express it. But theseantipsychotic drugs do their work by dam-aging the higher functions of the mind, somuch so that they are referred to as“mind-damaging neuroleptics.”

The American people are being railroad-ed into taking numerous medications whichhave complications that may trigger furtherillness, and end up necessitating more med-ications. This situation isn’t limited to peo-ple with mental health issues.

The motive could be some kind ofgrand plan for social engineering, or sim-ply the endless pursuit of massive profitsby the pharmaceutical industry. I don’tknow what is behind it. However, at thispoint, the U.S. has an epidemic, not of acommunicable disease, but rather one ofill health due to excessive drugging.

Unethical Medical Experiments on U.S. CitizensThe U.S. has an epidemic, notof a communicable disease,but rather one of ill health dueto excessive drugging.

friends with available space and resourceswon out, and I became homeless.

The psychologist Abraham Maslowproposed a theory of human motivationthat looked at the process of self-actual-ization, which aims for an individual toachieve their highest potential as a humanbeing. Self-actualization can only happenif you are able to address four other coreneeds. In order of importance, Maslowidentified the following core needs.

1. Physiological need for food, water,clothing, shelter and sleep.

2. Safety needs for health, employment,steady income, personal security, and asafety net in times of crisis.

3. Love and belonging, includingfriendships, family, close relationshipsand intimacy.

4. Self-esteem, meaning both respectfrom others and self-respect, confidence,achievement, and a sense of being unique.

Maslow’s theory does a good job of pro-viding a framework for those hoping toachieve self-actualization. However, it doesnot go into detail about the individuals whograpple with physiological or safety needsand the personal impact of the daily strug-gle to meet those needs.

As a person experiencing homelessness,daily life is made up of the struggle to meetyour physiological and safety needs andovercome the obstacles that arise. Smallcomforts I had taken for granted, such asaccess to a refrigerator, toilet, shower, andbed, were painful reminders of my currentsituation and the new obstacles to dailyfunctioning. Locating and obtaining foodthat didn’t require much preparation, alongwith filling up and hauling a water bottle,were my primary concerns.

Besides water and nutrients, humanbeings also require sleep. Not havinghousing puts you at the mercy of the few— if any — shelters in your area. Even ifyou’re fortunate enough to find a shelter,there’s a good chance that you will beturned away due to a lack of beds.

Sleeping in a shelter is already tough

because of being in close, crowded quar-ters with people who snore, talk in theirsleep, haven’t had access to a shower inweeks or are experiencing serious mentalhealth symptoms. Also, rigid shelter rulesmean you must contend with lights on andoff at arbitrary times that may totally con-flict with your own best hours for sleep.All these factors make it even more diffi-cult to get a good night’s rest.

However, despite these difficulties, ifyou get a bed in a shelter, it’s almost likewinning the lottery compared to sleeping onthe streets. I was turned away multipletimes from a shelter in Redwood City, andwhen I asked shelter employees and policewhere I should go, they didn’t have ananswer. So, I alternated between sleeping infront of the social services building and thepolice station next to the shelter.

The noise from cars, the streets and free-ways made falling and staying asleep diffi-cult. This was in late October when winterwas settling in and temperatures were hov-ering around 20 degrees, so I coveredmyself in four layers of clothing and theone blanket I could carry in my backpack.

The cold temperature didn’t just makethings uncomfortable, but also potentiallydeadly. I was lucky enough to be placedin housing in mid-November. However,many are not so fortunate. Every year,many homeless individuals freeze to deathon Bay Area streets.

Eventually, I became a client for awrap-around social service agency, whichplaced me into housing, helped me estab-lish an income and provided medical andmental health services. As part of myrecovery plan, and as a solution to mylack of immediate housing, the organiza-tion connected me to a local transitionalhousing program that served primarilyhomeless individuals and parolees.

This was where I met Michael Rowland,one of my best friends still to this day.

My personal story of education andhomelessness is unique to my social placeand individual circumstances. I grew up ina white, middle-class, suburban familywhere educational institutions were trusted.

My parents took me to the bookstore andtalked to my teachers on a weekly basis.

Michael’s experience with educationwas far different from mine. He droppedout of school in the sixth grade and joinedthe Hoover Crips, an infamous street gangin South Los Angeles. At 18, he joinedthe National Guard and proudly served sixyears. Afterwards, he struggled with alco-holism, health problems and a lack of realopportunity. When his sister, a constantsource of love and support, passed awayin 2011, it was too much for Michael tohandle and he ended up sleeping aroundLake Merritt until he got connected to therecovery program.

As I discussed earlier, there is an aurathat surrounds UC Berkeley so that whenyou tell people you go there, they react asif you have the secret key to unlock all thesuccess and knowledge of the world. Bycontrast, in Michael’s case, they usuallyreact to his experience and informal edu-cation with indifference or disrespect.

Howard Gardener, an education pro-fessor, questioned popular assumptionsabout what constitutes knowledge whenhe developed his theory of multiple intel-ligences. According to his theory, thereare nine types of intelligence: visual-spa-tial, bodily-kinesthetic, musical, interper-sonal, intrapersonal, naturalistic, existen-tial, linguistic, and logical-mathematical.

Formal education tends to focus onmainly linguistic and logical-mathemati-cal, while sometimes drawing upon visu-al-spatial. I excelled at UC Berkeley bymastering skills such as crafting researchpapers and solving mathematical problemsets, but these talents were of little use tome when I became homeless.

Knowing how to apply for food stamps,finding critical services, and maneuveringmy body to maintain a healthy temperaturewere all skills I had to learn quickly on thestreets. I struggled with all of these, whileothers like Michael had insights and tips Inever thought about. I was fortunate

enough to not have to endure a full winteron the street, while Michael survived twoconsecutive years living on the streets nearLake Merritt.

However, a majority of people and edu-cational institutions would be quick to labelme as more intelligent than Michael. Thisdemonstrates the need to radically reshapethe values of educational institutions sothey reflect real-world skills. But even moreimportantly, I think it is a call to personallyre-examine our own views and biases ofwhat makes a person intelligent.

While I have experienced the normalfirst-day jitters before at UC Berkeley,this time they will be different. Becausethis time around, I will bring with me thehardened reality of someone who hasslept on the street, stayed in shelters, andnavigated the complicated social serviceprovider network. These experiencesmade me critical of educational institu-tions and the underlying privilege of theirknowledge. However, as I prepare to re-enter both school and the workforce, Iknow that if I ever feel alone or need tofind inspiration, my friend Michael is onephone call away, ready to relay wisdom orinspire me with tales from his readingclass, job as a security guard, or role astransitional house manager.

Michael Rowland and I both appreciateand acknowledge that our current posi-tions in life are due to the opportunitieswe’ve been given. But, millions ofAmericans, including those we see at theSuitcase Clinic week after week, aren’table to access these resources.

The pressures and obstacles of home-lessness make it a daily struggle simply tosurvive. I try and help clients to meetthese needs as a Housing/EmploymentSpecialist at the Suitcase Clinic. My hopeis that these struggles are only temporaryand that they’re on their way to experienc-ing the world beyond the confines ofhousing instability and physical survival.

from page 1

The University of the Streets I was lucky enough to be placed in housing in November asthe cold grew potentially deadly. Many are not so fortunate.Every year, many homeless persons freeze to death.

August 2015ST R E E T SP I R I T10

prison, starting with people who areblack, brown, and poor white. At the sametime, Mr. Fat Cat has picked the pocketsof the 99%.

Because of the grip on the politicalsystem by the 1%, federal tax dollars thatshould be paying off the national debt orbuilding bridges and trains and solar pan-els are going instead to build more bombs.

The nation’s mayors shut down theschools and mental health clinics, thenwonder why our streets are full of crimeand sorrow. People with nowhere to turn,often turn violence on themselves andtheir neighbors.

As people lose jobs, houses and educa-tion, the 1% invest in over-policing(including the military weapons bran-dished in Ferguson, Missouri in 2014) tohold back the rage.

African American members of thelower 99, where the blues comes from,have been subjected to the oppression andlies of the 1% rulers for 400 years. Nowmore of us are forced to experienceexploitation from the same beast.

Blues can’t cure society, but it can getpeople out of the dumps. Kurt Vonnegut,before his death in 2007, called AfricanAmerican music “America’s greatest con-tribution to the world ... the remedy for aworld-wide epidemic of depression.”

Blues grew up from the ground. It’s theroot of America’s popular music —gospel, rock, jazz, soul, funk, R&B,hiphop — even part of country music.Producer and songwriter Willie Dixonoften said, “Blues is the root. Other musicis the fruit.”

Blues has a call and a response, arhythm and a swing. The music makesyou feel better. Watch a blues audience,eyes half closed, tapping their toes — orin a lively mood, shouting out their com-ments on the singer’s lines. Blues can tellany story — happy or sad, scary or funny.It doesn’t solve the world’s problems, butit brings folks together, and that’s a start.

Where to find this healing bluesmusic? Don’t look in the major mediaowned by the 1%. The music industrialcomplex doesn’t like to play real blues (orair real news). Each blues song comesfrom the heart of an ordinary person. Itcannot be mass duplicated and controlled.The blues is freedom. The blues is truth.

HOW I FOUND THE BLUES

Like many fans, I got into blues musicto cure my own blues. The Creatorblessed me with the personality of anobsessed reformer and writer. As a kid, Ihaunted the Philadelphia library forbiographies of pioneers: Susan B.Anthony, Jane Addams, Amelia Earhart,Harriet Tubman, Booker T. Washington.

In the fighting pioneer tradition of myfather’s Scot-Irish family, I always swamupstream like the heroes I read about. Mymother’s grandparents were Russian-Rumanian Jewish immigrants. Some werealso known for playing music and occa-sional political hell-raising.

At 13, when I watched Martin LutherKing speak on TV at the March onWashington, I started to understand howunfairly black people had been treated. Iwanted to help.

At West Virginia University, studyingfor my journalism degree, I heard talks byMuhammad Ali and Dick Gregory. I over-heard African-American students, clus-

tered at their favorite table in theMountainlair student union, debate BlackPower and music. “You like soul music?”said Ron Wilkerson, one of my collegebuddies. “You oughta dig Miles Davis.And John Lee Hooker.” Many of theblack students had it together. Theirteachers in segregated high schools heldMasters and PhDs but couldn’t get jobs inwhite schools. So they had stayed in thecommunity, passing all their smarts to thekids growing up under them.

But no sooner than African-Americanculture began showing its beauty andpower, it was driven down again. Notonly were urban anti-poverty programsshut off in the late 1960s, but also high-ways and urban renewal blasted throughblack business districts. Blues and jazzclubs were bulldozed, from Detroit’sHastings Street to Beale Street inMemphis and the Triangle District inWest Virginia’s own capital, Charleston.

America’s “consumer” economy con-sumes land and people and culture,replacing everything with manufacturedimitations. Cities and streets were namedfor Indian tribes after the army and thesettlers killed them off. Likewise, in manyplaces with “blues” in the name, themusic has been killed off and replacedwith imitations.

Partly because of my activism, I wasforced out of the family business in thelate 1990s. Losing my job gave me theblues. I was drawn to the music that hadspawned those soul hits I’d danced to inthe 1960s. Growing up to Broadway showtunes and Beethoven, I learned a new setof revered names: the blues piano playersRoosevelt Sykes, Memphis Slim, BigMaceo Merriwether, Katie Webster, BigMoose Walker, Otis Spann. I took bluespiano classes at Augusta Heritage summerblues camp, in my own state, at Elkins,West Virginia. Each year I’d go home,practice with records and tapes, sit in withlocal bands, and drive occasionally toblues jams in Washington, D.C.

THE LOSS OF MAXWELL STREET

In the year 2000, I read on the D.C.Blues Society website that Chicago musi-cians and fans were calling for help. Thecity was about to tear down MaxwellStreet, the birthplace of Chicago blues.Maxwell Street was the century-old, open-air marketplace where people of all cul-tures mixed and mingled and shopped anddanced. With my daughter gone on to col-lege, I was free to pursue another cause.Maybe a Martin Luther King dream.

I hopped a train for the Windy City.Longtime activist and Roosevelt Universityprofessor Steve Balkin, known on the streetas “the Fess,” took me to the street’sfamous 24-hour hotdog stand. Nearby on aplywood bandstand cobbled by bluesmanFrank “Sonny” Scott, musicians playedhour after hour for weeks, protesting thedemolition: Jimmie Lee Robinson, thelanky “Lonely Traveler” in cowboy boots,and the Queen of Maxwell Street, 80-year-old Johnnie Mae Dunson Smith. TheMaxwell Street Foundation website nowmemorializes the grief and the history (athttp://www.maxwellstreetfoundation.org).

By 2002, the wrecking ball hadclaimed Maxwell Street. The city hadignored our protests. Jimmie Lee, dyingof cancer, had taken his own life. But sev-eral dozen blues musicians were still play-ing in Chicago, keeping the spirit alive.

I’d played some gigs as a coffeehouse

piano songstress but knew little aboutplaying in a band. Maybe I could find astruggling band leader who’d let me learn,in exchange for my help writing their bioand website.

I returned to Chicago in March 2003.Like they say, it’s a tough town. A clique ofyounger guys, some black, some white,elbowed my newbie self out of a NorthSide club jam. They played so fast Icouldn’t keep up with their funk and rock.They didn’t want to hear me trying to shad-ow Otis Spann; they wanted synthesizersounds. I felt no swing nor groove, just fly-ing fingers and screeching amplifiers moreappropriate for rock than blues. I fled theclub, wheeling my 88 keys out the door.

Poet and critic Sterling Plumpp, whorose from Mississippi sharecropping to apost office job and then to a professorshipin Chicago, stated in Fernando Jones’book I Was There When the Blues wasRed Hot: “My perception is that theWhite, Yuppie Lincoln Park audiencetends to like high-energy music. Theythink that blues should show some sort ofrelationship to rock’n’roll. Therefore agreat deal of potentially significant Blackblues musicians distort what the music isabout to please that audience.”

THE BLUES AND COMMUNITY

So, what is the blues supposed to beabout on its home turf? Chicago harmoni-ca player Billy Branch, who started theidea of “Blues in the Schools,” explainscommunity participation to critic DavidWhiteis in the book Chicago Blues:Portraits and Stories. “It’s call-and-response, how the audience and perform-ers react to each other.... There’s some-thing in the Black experience that defies,probably, definition.... It’s an oral tradi-tion —’Yeah baby!’ ‘That’s what I’mtalking ‘bout!’ ‘I hear you!’ ”

That tradition called to me. Real bluesis not deafening; it’s not in a hurry. It’spersonal. It tells stories. It’s hospitable,even to those from outside the hood.

I decided to test my early piano skills

in another tourist club: the Monday nightjam at Buddy Guy’s Legends. The wiry,dark-skinned drummer in Jimmy Burns’sband, I could see, was really into it.Totally living in the moment of the music,he drove the group with a crisp andswingy backbeat. A world of expressionsfrom joy to pain flickered across his face.At the end of each line of 12-bar blues,he’d add magnificent little rumbles andflourishes.

The drummer wore a blue-and-redsports jersey and a backwards baseball cap,more in the hiphop fashion than the felt hatand fancy shirt of a bluesman. His wide-seteyes seemed to look in different directions.One eye, I learned later, had been damagedseveral years ago by a minor stroke thatluckily did not affect his hands or voice. Orwas it the time he fell off the swing as a lit-tle kid and hit his head?

At the end of the song, the drummercame back from whatever planet he wason. With quick, spidery hands, heswitched the drums from a left-hand setupback to right-handed for the next drum-mer. Then he moved to the front of thestage and picked up a microphone. With anod to the audience, he hummed a musi-cal riff to the guitar player and directedthe bass and drums to come in.

The music boiled up into a one-chordtrance song, something like John LeeHooker or Howlin’ Wolf would lay down.The groove reached out like a whirlwind.A huge voice swept through the room,pouring out the pain of his soul and manyothers. It was as if the great, 6-foot-4-inch, 300-pound Wolf had come back tolife and was howling through the singer’sslender frame.

This was no imitation; this was blues.Tourists looked up from their catfish andbeer, startled. Then they applauded.

As the band took a break, Jimmy Burnsbegan calling us, the wannabe blues musi-cians, to the stage. When they called“Barrelhouse Bonni” I sat gingerly at theunfamiliar keyboard and played the

Blues for the 99 PercentThe Corporate Attack onAmerica’s Roots Music

See Blues for the 99 Percent page 11

from page 1

Howlin’ Wolf singing in 1972. Wolf’s hard-charging blues band first recorded inMemphis, then took the spirit of the Mississippi Delta blues to Chicago.

August 2015 ST R E E T SP I R I T 11

chords I’d learned at Augusta HeritageBlues camp in West Virginia. Most of theguitar guys were used to playing withother guitars rather than with a piano, andpreferred to drown me out. I was gladpeople couldn’t hear all my wrong notesanyway. When the song ended, someonetapped me on the shoulder. It was the wirysinger and drummer who had channeledWolf.

“I like the way you play,” he said. “Nottoo many folks play piano that way any-more.”

“Thank you,” I said, nearly falling out ofmy chair. “I’m still learning. I loved yourdrumming and singing. Who are you?”

HE PLAYED WITH LEGENDS

“I’m Larry Taylor.” He pointed to theband leader. “Jimmy Burns is my uncle.My stepdad was Eddie Taylor. He was onVeeJay and other record labels. Toured allover the world. Played guitar with JimmyReed.”

“Wow, you’re the real deal,” I said.Blues, like oldtime Appalachian mountainmusic, is often passed down in families.

“Yep. I’m a real bluesman. Grew upwith it right in my house,” he said. He’dplayed on stage with legends like JohnLee Hooker, Junior Wells, Albert Collins.“The stuff they’re playing in these clubsthese days, some of it ain’t the real blues.

“Some of these younger guys, don’tmatter if they black, they ashamed of theblues,” Larry explained. “They used toknow how to play. But the old guys, a lotof them are gone. And the younger guys,they’ve played the modern style of R&Bfor so many years they forget how to dothe traditional blues. Or they speed it upand play too loud like rock. They actscared of the feelings in the music. Can’thandle it. They play a song fast so theycan get through it.”

“Bet you could get a lot of people tocome out and hear the real blues,” I said.“The blues societies are always talking‘Keep the Blues Alive.’ So why don’t youhave your own band?”

“I’ve thought about it,” he admitted.“Band leaders are the ones who makemoney in this business. Side musicians,they just don’t get paid very well.”

I told him my dream of playing in aChicago blues band and promoting a her-itage African American artist.

“I’ve got some tapes of my stepdadplaying,” Larry said. “He died back in1985. Want to see them?”

Six months later, Larry Taylor setabout forming his own blues and soulband. He’d bring back the forgotten hitsof his stepdad’s generation and his own.

Surely promoters would snap up a realbluesman with Larry Taylor’s heritage —a little guy with a big voice, a band leaderfull of soul and rhythm. Even if I lackedmusic business connections, I could lookup festival and club venues, and send outa bio of Larry and a CD with a few of hissongs. His calendar should fill up withgigs in no time!

So I thought. Now it’s been 10 years.Larry is 10 years older, still struggling toraise his kids on the West Side ofChicago, as shots are fired, jobs dry up,drugs are sold on street corners, peopleare getting shot, and schools and mentalhealth clinics are closing around them.

The urban blues get worse every day— with less music to compensate. Maybewe should have heeded the song byLarry’s former bandleader, A.C. Reed:“I’m in the Wrong Business.”

Is Larry’s music worth promoting?Judge for yourself. (See http://www.larry-taylorchicagoblues.com)

Many other things have contributed to

Larry’s blues story and to mine. Whatevermistakes we’ve made in trying to promoteLarry, we’re not imagining these obstaclesin the business. Jim ONeal, founding edi-tor of Living Blues magazine, spottedthem over 20 years ago in his article “TheBlues: A Hidden Culture” (Living Blues,March/April 1990).

“The young black bluesman usuallyfinds no easy road to success even whenhe is heard.... The upper level is narrowand constricted, populated by the veteranswho have been there for years. They havethe reputations, the recognition, the betterrecording outlets, the top management,and they have the history. Their gains arehard earned and well deserved, and if theyprotect their positions by preserving thehierarchy (with the consent and support ofthe blues audience), it’s understandable.”

O’Neal, now an archivist atBluesoterica, went on to recommend:“Maybe what is needed most in the newage of blues is a push toward establishingup-and-coming blues talent within theblack community, on black radio, in blackpublications and in black music awards.The black audience for blues is still large,though not particularly well served byradio and the recording industry.”

O’Neal who is white, noted that blackDJs seemed content to play old blues andsoul records without searching foryounger performers of this type of music.Some “southern soul-blues” artists do getplayed. While the vocals come acrosswith soul, much of their music doesn’thave the same sound; synthesized key-boards can’t replace piano and horns.

SHARING THE PAIN AND BEAUTY

Heritage blues musicians have the giftof pain and the challenge of sharing it.Their experiences tap into the beauty andthe unrealized dreams not only in African-American culture, but in all of human life.They can make us feel what they are feel-ing, and that bond draws people together.The greatest blues artists are the ones whofeel the deepest pain. Because they carryso much pain, they are strong and fragile.Appreciation keeps them going.

Fernando Jones, harp and guitar playerand songwriter, points out in his1988/2004 book I Was There When theBlues was Red Hot, that fellow blackscholars sometimes fail to allow their cul-ture to take credit for the blues. The latebass player and blues songwriter and pro-ducer Willie Dixon often said, “Blues arethe root. Other music is the fruit.”

Blues is famous worldwide, but notalways valued in the community. The Bluesand the Spirit symposia produced by Dr.Janice Monti at Dominican University since2008 have made a dent in this, giving Blackscholars a chance to address the value ofthe blues. (See http://www.dom.edu/blues-and-spirit-iv)

Fernando also quotes Chicago Blackpromoter and politician Ralph Metcalfe:“The reason we (Blacks) shy away fromthe Blues is because of our self-hatred....We worship the white man’s gods moreso than being concerned with our ownheritage and origins. Blues musicians inthe beginning were the traveling min-strels. Black educators do not teach this inschool because they have not been trainedthemselves.... At Columbia University Iwent to the music department; it wasfilled with Brahms, Beethoven, and Bach(but not) Waters, Wolf and Wells.... Bluesis the classical music of black people.”

If the community ignores its blues menand women and does not feel their pres-ence, or lets the world exploit them with-out feeding their families, they will dieoff. Not just from a broken heart, rejectionand starvation, but from being stifled fromsharing their music.

I have seen Larry Taylor’s personalsuffering. He has spoken out about thesethings since before I came to Chicago,and spoke out again in our book Stepsonof the Blues. His singing is deeper, hisrepertoire broader, his rhythm more pro-found than ever. Since 2008 he has notbeen hired to perform in Chicago’s annualblues festival, nor hired by a national orinternational festival.

Meanwhile, some media are sayingblues are now a white thing and that’s allthere is to it. This is pure B.S. Portrayingthe Blues without Black people is likeportraying my grandmother’s Scotlandwith mariachi players instead of bag-pipers. You can’t keep the blues alivewithout ongoing generations of live,authentic, professional African Americanblues men and women studying and play-ing the classical music of their culture.

The blockage has to end. Their energyhas to be released. When it is, everybodybenefits. Blues is the music of survival.Life goes on. We all gonna boogie — allnight long!

Bonni McKeown is a journalist, activistand blues piano player who supports heritagemusicians upholding the blues and soul tradi-tion. She wrote the music section of theMaxwell Street Foundation history website(see http://www.maxwellstreetfoundation.org)and has written a blog “West Side Blues” forthe Austin Weekly News.

Bonni promoted Larry Taylor and workedwith Larry to produce his 2004 debut CD“They Were in This House,” reissued in 2011by Wolf Records. http://www.larrytay-lorchicagoblues.com . She co-authoredStepson of the Blues, a limited-edition autobi-ography of Taylor, in 2010, and wrote ascreenplay “The Rhythm and the Blues” basedon part of Taylor’s life story. For more infor-mationm see www.barrelhousebonni.com

Blues for the 99 Percentfrom page 10

“The Blues Trail.” This Blues Marker in Memphis honors the journeyof many blues artists from rural Mississippi to Beale Street and beyond.

Ellen Danchikphoto

Will They Let You BePoor Anymoreby Carol Denney

will they let you be poor anymorecan you just get a room or a bedwithout three thousand dollarsin first month's and last month'sfor just a roof over your head

will they let you be poor anymorewith a job somewhere pushing a broomwashing up dishesand flipping a stackwon't even get you a room

do we all have to be CEOsor work for VC-funded techsdo we all have to worksixty hours a weekat jobs where we're all nervous wrecks

will they let you be poor anymoreand work for an honest day's paydid it all go to Chinaor India and if it did then let's all go today

I don't need much to be happyI may be poor but not sadit's always just scrambling aroundfor a roof and a jobthat can make me feel bad

will they let you be poor anymoreand go home at the end of the daya place of your ownjust a room to call homeearned with an honest day's pay

The Delta Blues Museum in Clarksdale, Mississippi, is a fantasticshowcase for the blues music that was born in the Mississippi Delta.

Ellen Danchikphoto

August 2015ST R E E T SP I R I T12

by Jack Bragen

George Orwell sent his landmarknovel, Nineteen Eighty-Four(alternately entitled 1984), to hispublisher on Dec. 4, 1948.

Orwell created this insightful “negativeutopia” by closely examining the erosion ofindividual freedom, governmental surveil-lance and enforced conformity that werealready well advanced in his own time.

Orwell’s novel remains a fascinatingindictment of a future where human rightsand the individual conscience are crushedunderfoot by the national security state.

A central component of the plot was thesurveillance of the novel’s protagonist,Winston Smith, whose every waking hourwas spied upon by the nameless, facelessbureaucrats of the tyrannical regime.

When Orwell wrote his book, in 1948,the transistor was still in the early stagesof development, and it was not known if itwould replace vacuum tube technology.(The first mass-produced AM transistorradios didn’t appear until about 1954.)

Thus, there was no way that Orwellcould have predicted the invention ofmicroprocessors decades later, or the evermore powerful computers that have enor-mously magnified the surveillance capaci-ty of both governments and corporations.

With modern technology, it hasbecome feasible to conduct round-the-clock surveillance of far greater numbersof people on a more massive scale — andwith far less human effort — compared to

what Orwell described in 1984.

REWRITING HISTORY

In the beginning of Orwell’s book,Winston Smith was busy at his job.Tellingly, his position was one of assist-ing the regime to constantly rewrite histo-ry. Orwell’s warning has proven prophet-ic. In the modern era, Holocaust deniershave attempted to rewrite history; the FBIand CIA smeared political movementswith falsely manufactured “evidence” andconcealed their own covert actions; andStalin’s regime rewrote history on a mas-sive scale during the Cold War.

Technology has become increasinglyefficient at placing countless people undersurveillance and controlling the public.Consumers are enthusiastic participants inthis process, voluntarily posting all oftheir personal information, photos,thoughts and gossip on social media web-sites. Surveillance cameras are presentmore often than not, and it is valid toassume they are present in a great numberof public and not-so-public places.

The good that might come of this ever-present scrutiny is that crimes are record-ed, including those in which police offi-cers abuse their positions of power. Forexample, on April 4, 2015, a video takenby a bystander was a crucial element thatled to a white South Carolina police offi-cer being charged with homicide forshooting and killing Walter Scott, anAfrican American man, after a routinetraffic stop. This bit of progress towardequal protection under the law wouldnever have been possible without a videorecording by the bystander that showedthe unarmed man being shot in the back.

Pressure from citizens is beginning toplay a pivotal role in getting us to thepoint where these injustices will no longergo unanswered. However, someone point-ed out to me that there are many timeswhen officer-involved crimes have beenrecorded in which, nonetheless, nothinghappens to the officer.

It can be disconcerting to wonder whenand where we are being watched. GPSdevices are apparently built into nearly all

of our cell phones. Furthermore, electronictechnology is so far advanced that one’sdwelling could be wiretapped in such a waythat a listening device is not findable.

LIMITLESS WAYS TO SPY

It could easily be carried out with themicrophone built into your cell phone, themicrophone in your computer, or with amicro-miniature device built into any wall,piece of furniture, appliance or vehicle.You can be monitored with a devicemounted atop a power pole across thestreet. There are limitless opportunities.

In the past, the assumption that you arebeing watched might get you categorizedas having paranoid delusions. However,given the state of technology today, itcould be a reasonable assumption.

Yet, even though we know that itmight be easy to spy on us, we shouldavoid falling prey to excessive fear orparanoia. It is important not to leap to anyconclusions about surveillance, in theabsence of any direct evidence of this.

On the other hand, if Orwell’s chillingprediction of omnipresent governmentalsurveillance has already come true, most ofus might never be aware of that. The cul-ture of surveillance and control is creepingupward in subtle steps, and most of us areblithely unaware of the change. And, infact, we are often willing participants.

The atmosphere in today’s society isnot exactly the same as in his book.Orwell didn’t predict the role of corporatestructures being responsible for a goodportion of the brainwashing and surveil-lance that takes place.

The “war on terror” has furnished ourgovernment with a great excuse for violat-

ing basic civil rights. In the name of keep-ing Americans safe, we are losing theessence of what America was supposedlyabout. The fact that I have the freedom tosay all of this doesn’t make it not so. Thepublic has become numb and jaded to thefact that we are constantly being watched.

BROKEN BY THE GOVERNMENT

The punishment for deviating fromwhat was considered normal in Orwell’sbook included being tortured, imprisonedor disappeared. There was not a singlespace remaining in this totalitarian societyfor any sort of freedom, dissent or non-conformity.

In 1984, the surveillance apparatusdetects Winston Smith’s small attempts atfreedom. He is arrested, thoroughlyprocessed by the government and brokendown. He is forced to inform on the personhe loves and betray his deeply held values.

Orwell’s book was a work of fiction.Yet, in the years since he wrote 1984, thissame fate has happened in real life to count-less dissenters and political prisoners.

In the version of Orwell’s surveillancesociety which has materialized in theUnited States, punishment for dissent isoften economic. Or it may involve beingexcluded, or the loss of employment, orbeing intimidated by the government. Itcould mean becoming a political prisonerunder the definition of AmnestyInternational. Or it could seem like a baf-fling amount of inexplicable bad luck.

While the particulars aren’t the same asin 1984, we are headed towards a societycontrolled by fear, and where our freedomis undermined by constant surveillance.

Orwell Foresaw the VastExpansion of Surveillanceand Total Loss of Freedom

If Orwell’s chilling prediction of omnipresent surveillancehas already come true, most of us might never know. Theculture of surveillance and control creeps upward in subtlesteps, and most of us are blithely unaware of the change.

Gentrification Bluesby George WynnShe closes the doorof her studioby Dolores Parkhands the landlady(who jacked up her rentdamn near double) the key“If anyone should asktell them I won't be backto Cable Car Land”and begins her longwandering insideAmerica's abandonedhouses

Worse Comes to Worseby George WynnEvery dayan old manhungry and sickwith sleeping bagliving minute to minutestumblescoming fromOcean Beach

Every daysome young girlor some young boyhungry and sicklike a frightened catliving minute to minuterest on the groundand give ashivering prayeron a downtownlonelystreet

Our Cityby the Bayis more fullof homelessnessthan you can evenimagine