2000

by Joe B.

I’m in Sudafed-non-aspirin haze as a gray, light to heavy drizzle began falling.

How would I know in a drug induced haze? I’m just getting over the flu.

I took those medicines at 6am with water while washing down said legally bought drugs.

Its Thursday, March, 7, 2002 my brain has gone blank... Oh yeah, The “2002 San Francisco Homeless Summit will begin at 8:15 a.m. in the Herbst Theater

Veterans Building 401 Van Ness Avenue.

Mrs. A. Fay, Lisa, and I meet up at POOR’s 2nd. Floor.

While waiting falling in and out of sleep the drizzle became louder and the sky from POOR’s squared-off picture window are grayer, darker, nearly night.

Unfortunately We, that is Fay, Junebug, Lisa and I arrived in this pandemonium in the Herbst Theater ruining my I-can-go-home ‘n’ sleep, visit girlfriend in Berkeley-staying undercover all-day because-of-rain daydream; it tingles and stimulates and is the only reason I like heavy rain or thunder showers.

Tiny’s gray car is hard to see in this monochrome gray environment.

At 8:27 I’m ‘thinkin we’re late so “The ‘PO Poets may not have time to do their stuff which means no Joe “Slam Bio” wrong.

Everyone’s slightly late it this important event Supervisor Chris Daly gently rushed us into “The Green Room” [The faded green carpet seems to be why its named though green isn’t the exclusive color] for our on stage presentation.

Leroy Moore, of (DAMO) [Disability Advocates Of Minority Organization].
With A. Fay, myself, Junebug, Poet/Low Income Housing Advocate, Tiny, half of the Co-Editor’s of POOR Magazine, Mari, on Youth Commissioner beginning around 1996 or 7 by Mayor Willie Brown as a way of having young people’s ideas and coordinate problems and solutions that young people face in society today.

I dislike being on stage, in public but once out there you don’t want to let others down and you do your best while being absolutely terrified.

I spotted Mr. James Tracy of “Right To A Roof” Its everyone is confused as their rushed this way or that, but confusion as my normal condition is like a drunk walking straight during an earthquake.

A woman with a stroller and child is having trouble entering the building because of the security guard which is a bad sign for a summit for poor folks and they are supposedly invited.

It might be a minor mishap or an indication that maybe poor folks are not gonna be help and this is another political publicity stunt.

Now safely seated at a POOR table to smooze, inform, and sell our wares we’ve created see George Smith, Amos Brown, Tom Ammiano, and Gavin Newsom some other familiar faces flitted by but their names escape me.

At 10:46 am. The drugs are beginning to ware off as the stuffy, congested throat fogged head and lowered reaction time turns crowds and individuals into movie-like slow mo freeze framed images and my bladder began asking why I drank some tea and water earlier in the morning.

Later Isabel arrived her face clouded and fuzzed at the edges her navel's what I my eyes see telescoped there “An outtie” nice navel I thought absently before looking at her face or may have said it aloud still in a half sleep/awake stupor.

Answering questions, collecting moneys, looking for change, explaining POOR’s mission, nodding off slightly missing time doesn’t feel good plus the one person-table works for short periods but not when.

Lunch is on the second floor in yet another green room. Time expands so does my bladder.

I had to go bad yet stay to watch over money jar and salable items.

Luckily a flu slows everything down, after placing most magazines, handbooks, flyers, and taking money jar with me I go the restroom, empty sun yellow liquid which means I need I’m dehydrated and must drink more water.

I impulsively decide to grab a lunch of my own on the second floor.

Supervisor, Chris Daly is outside and a suited man tells me where the room is.

Inside lots or camera’s, reporters, and people sitting chairs or pews and next to me a table full of white plastic bags.

“Is that a donation for us?” a photographer jokes.
“Just our own”

I say grabbing a white bag, exiting quickly to the elevator.

Walking back to the table slowly until I’m once again sitting still feeling the slow motion effects the flu.

Waiting for my nosebleed to signal an end to my illness.

I continue selling what items I can as the Homeless Summit continues.

While eating lunch I legally re-drugged myself with Sudafed and non aspirin; I’ve forgotten if you take those medications separate or together - thinking “oh-well I take them together as I eat a tuna fish sandwich and wash it down with a strawberry-kiwi soda.

It’s only then I thought “You’re not suppose to mix medcations together oh-well.

I began nodding off, missing gaps in time, going the bathroom, and suddenly talking to Lisa, Mari, Junebug, and Isabell unless the latter is a waking dream.

Time slowed, quickened, there is a heated discussion of John John Whane Bobbit, Lorraina Bobbit, partial castration, and a porn career, also Vagina Monologues, and being hit a lot for saying the wrong things at the wrong time to the wrong person.

Soon it was nearly time and I gathered what it needed before leaving the building.

The whole day seemed like a floating gossamer wing with nothing attached.

I hope poor folks, their advocates, reporters and politico’s get the message that improved, better, higher 'tech skills, education, and alternative work situations are possible and feasible.

Low-income housing, is not Affordable Housing and the Minimum Wage should always be continually Cost-Of-Living Adjusted so alternative ways of work is no longer locked into one mindset.

As soon as I get this stuff safely at POOR’s office I’m going home that is if I don’t end up sleeping in Local 6’s Union Hall tonight which is looking better and better to me.

Joseph Bolden/Poor Magazine
Staff Writer

by Staff Writer

September 14, 2001

Dear " ",

I decided to take you up on your suggestion that I put some of the
opinions I expressed at last night's meeting on paper. I am by no
means an authority on military or foreign affairs and these are just
my personal opinions, but for what they're worth, here are some notes.

I believe the Sept. 11 attacks are ushering in a major rightwing
offensive, both global and national. It is likely to be sustained for
some time and become a historical watershed. The rightwing of the
ruling class and its ultra-right allies could not have asked for a
better opportunity to aggressively move to reshape the world in their
image. In the absence of a major countervailing force, they have
serious grounds to feel that they will be successful. Appealing to
the American psyche, which sees its relatively peaceful surroundings
as a birthright (when it is really a national privilege), the
rightwing seeks to capture the moral high ground, whipping up
patriotism and "anti-terrorist" fervor. Wielding its superior
military and financial strength, Washington will seek to rally its
First World allies into a world "anti-terrorism campaign," bring its
erstwhile and vacillating allies into line, and destroy or mortally
cripple its enemies, especially in the Middle East and South Asia.

In some ways, this is reminiscent of the late 1940s and early 1950s.
But this time there is no socialist camp, no equivalent revolutionary
national liberation movements, and little domestic left opposition.
This means the ruling class has much greater maneuverability. They
can exert powerful military force abroad when necessary; and sugar
coat the undermining of democratic rights at home under the notion of
national consensus and the defense of democracy and freedom.

Although progressives have been thrown deeply on the defensive, there
are also openings to be part of the public discussion, if we are bold
as well as very careful. We must be bold in building extremely broad
coalitions, bold in attempting to enter the biggest media and
political platforms. If we craft our messages correctly, we have many
allies, and we should aggressively pursue working with them. We
should not self-isolate. Peace, international solidarity, religious,
anti-globalization, student, and civil rights groups should be
approached. We should also use this opportunity to get labor,
women's, anti-racist, and community organizations that tend to eschew
international issues to get involved. This new situation will affect
everyone to the core. We should actively build broad coalitions, not
be content to hang on the left, hold "small but militant
demonstrations" and expect others to come to us. We should try to get
to the forefront of the fight for peace and basic democratic rights,
spearhead largescale education campaigns, and get government bodies
on record for peace and against unwarranted racist attacks on Arabs
and South Asians.

But we must be extremely careful about our public messages (and our
internal rhetoric), lest we isolate ourselves and even make ourselves
vulnerable to physical attack. We need to demonstratively express
deep grieving over the death, destruction, and loss of security felt
by most Americans. Most of us genuinely feel this, but sometimes we
do not express it properly. Almost everyone in the country knows
someone that was somehow directly affected by the attacks, and all of
us know in our hearts that life will never be as safe as it once
seemed. Symbolism and emotions tend to run higher than rationality at
times like this, and if we do not understand this, it will be
difficult to get a hearing on other issues.

We need to avoid leftwing rhetoric and revolutionary posturing, be
concrete and address actual issues on the public agenda and not make
premature anticipations or apocalyptic predictions. Internally we
need to try to see as far ahead as possible and try to go deep
analytically in order to be as prepared as possible, but externally
we need to speak to facts on the ground, avoid concepts or images
that are adamantly rejected by even peace loving people, and avoid
prematurely polarizing with potential allies. All this while still
drawing firm lines against the right.

I believe, at this time, we have two main entryways into the broad
public discussion. By far the most important is by addressing the
issue of why this attack happened and how to respond. Even the
mainstream media is increasingly addressing this question, in its own
ways. I believe our main message should be that U.S. life will become
increasingly insecure and dangerous unless this country improves its
international behavior. In the era of globalization, peace at home is
linked to peace abroad. And increased insecurity would likely result
in lost civil liberties. We need to oppose a precipitous response by
the government to the September 11 attacks and urge restraint. We can
no longer allow our government to make war on others withou expecting retaliation, whether one thinks that retaliation is fair or
not. Peace and freedom are increasingly globalized, or not. We need
to oppose U.S. isolationism and aggression. Our loss of life should
lead not to an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, but to join
others who have experienced war in the aspiration for peace.

In taking on these issues, we should studiously avoid leftwing
shorthands like "chickens come home to roost" (which will be read as
a justification for the mass deaths of innocent people) and "no
justice, no peace" (which will be read as a justification for further
attacks). Peace, No Violence, etc. are much more directly to the
point. What we are talking about is a new kind of peace movement.

The second main entry way is through opposing attacks on Arabs and
South Asians in the U.S. Such attacks are already underway, and are
even being widely addressed by political leaders, civil rights
groups, and the mainstream media. Again, building broad coalitions
and using popular language is key. We should appeal for peace,
fairness, and oppose violent racial stereotyping. I actually think
that the more farsighted sections of the ruling class will want to
stem these attacks so that their broader offensive does not lose the
moral high ground. Minimally, they must make a nod in this direction.
We should take full advantage of this opening.

While responding immediately to these huge events, we also need to
embark on deep thinking about the implications for the future.
Apparently, war, like capital and labor, has now been globalized. We
are into war without borders. New and readily available technology
means that very small groups, even individuals, can wreak mass
destruction. The U.S. may be relatively invulnerable to direct
assault, but it is eminently vulnerable to attack by small groups.
And it has aggressively alienated millions of people, at home and
abroad, some of whom will surely take advantage of the new means at
their disposal. Israel is making the assassination of opposing
political leaders a central part of its war strategy-others are
likely to respond in kind.

This is not an altogether new situation. Most of us have known this
for some time and expected some kind of significant attacks within
the U.S. But now the genie is out of the bottle-and in a most
spectacular fashion. It is no longer theoretical. What are the
implications of this new situation for our attitude and strategies
towards war and peace, how do we distinguish between the government's
overbroad definition of terrorism and actual terrorism? How will the
ruling class and public react and what platform can we stand on? What
about the copy cat lunatic fringe and ultra-right fanatics who until
now has confined themselves to comparatively small-scale shootings
(except for Oklahoma City)? How do we break the fragmentation,
disorganization and isolation of the left under these harsh
conditions?

Finally, we should all be prepared for events to move fast. In
particular, when the U.S. mounts its counterattacks (which I believe
is likely to eventually include the murder of Saddam Hussein), a wave
of jingoism (and racism) is likely to sweep the country. We need to
work hard ahead of this wave, prepare to weather it without getting
too terribly isolated, and smartly fight our way through it. We're in
for hard times, and our allies abroad even more so. We will all be
struggling to find our bearings. We will make mistakes. Let's be
tolerant of each other, keep our eyes on the real enemies, and seek
clarity and unity. Let's think big and get organized. Maybe we can
build something for the long run.

I hope this is helpful to you in some way. Feel free to share it with
others if you deem it useful.

In peace and solidarity,
Bob Wing
Editor of Colorlines

by Joe B.

To all Editor’s, Publisher’s, Literary Agents, and hard working industry people.

I, Joseph Bolden as a POOR Magazine’s columnist appreciate pos or neg comments on my work on PM’s-website.

If time permits to read and respond by email or snail me.
Please Do At.

askjoe@poormagazine.org or snail

P.O. Box #645 1230 Market St.

San Francisco, CA. 94102-4801
I’ve no phone but working on it.

Whatever help you can to a struggling scribbler is priceless.

Thank You for reading my works.

Life Extension APPROPRIATE AGED IMMORTALITYor Age Appropriate Immortality is the more correct wording.

What does that mean?

Unlike Kate Wilhelm’s "Welcome Chaos" or John
Wyndham’s
"The Trouble With Lichen" or other stories about humanity gaining immortality before they're able to deal with its ramifications is a scary concept yet its logical that our society will someday face this fictionalized scenario.

In ancient Rome and 18 or 24 or more was the limit any older like 34 or 40 and people were deemed ancient.

No wonder Alexander The Great did so much before he turned 35, his life span was so short and he had to pack so much in a short life.

To be 10, 15, or younger forever or 90 years old permanently is equally just as bad.

But if humans learned expertly to fine-tune brain, hormonal, metabolism, and biological from pre-birth adapting the pre-embryo to where minute changes so at various ages at each stage of life they become stronger, healthier, resistant to most illnesses, regenerate quicker from cuts scrapes, even broken bones that heal without scars.

For older adults their aging could be made to be slowed until their bodies are slowly replaced with newer improved flesh and metal parts.

Possibly the Electro-chemical memory residing in the brain was transferred to an exact though new and improved twin or clone of the original body upgraded from the molecular level.

What I am saying is if we became more precise in improving our bodies and brains we could have age stops from 22 to 90 or older but biologically slowed aging will make chronological aging meaningless.

With Age Appropriate Immortality from birth to grave, reversed, slowed, or stopped age becomes irreverent in that and 50 or 90 year old looking and feeling decades younger would be like looking at someone 25 or 35.

For example: a 170 year stunner of a woman could be throbbing the cradle with some 50 year old youth, to her a mere child.

Their ages would mean nothing, a quaint, old fashioned chronological tradition.

Age Appropriate Immortality should be life extensions new frontier before full-blown immortality arrives with all its dread and worries about what death means when people choose to live long as they choose.

Its just a few ideas to kick around on life, death, living, dying, and the possible avoiding of the long gray scythe of Grim reapers blade.

What do you budding Immoralists, Cryonicists, Eternals, and Neptune Society, and Death With Dignity folks think about it?

Talk among yourselves, form new political parties based on Life Extended to Immortal and Right To Die.

I can only be a conduit, a wilderness voice hoping other people are thinking similar or more advanced than I; be safe, live long, folks… Bye.

by Joe. B.

Thursday, Sept. 28, 2001 10:54 am.

Personally dazed and confused wondering how this could happen I could not write "Mess on Market Street" series for a while until I let sink in what happened on Tuesday, September, 11th 2001.

Went to bed, have a restless sleep.

Tuesday, Oct. 2, 2001 7:30 am seven people including myself walking on Market Street. Gray skies meet me with a whiff of a cool wind.

Usually a taperecorder, an aide to voice and memory, is in my hand.

A week or two ago it is lent to someone who need was greater than mine hopefully today or in days to come it will safe in its owner's possession soon.

Please send donations to Poor Magazine
C/0 Ask Joe at 255 9th St. Street,
San Francisco, CA. 94103 USA

For Joe only my snail mail:
PO Box 1230 #645
Market St. San Francisco, CA 94102
Email: askjoe@poormagazine.org

by Isabel Estrada/PoorNewsNetwork Youth in the MEdia intern

They didn't even Pretend to have Court then.

The Lynch Mob, Poured out Justice in the Dead of the Night, leaving me,

Hanging from a Limb on a Tree. Swinging gently in the Midnight breezes…

I now get 25 years to Life?

On a Bunk in a 4 Man Cell!

From the Chain Gang to the Rape Gang!

Your Honor! Give me a Rope and I’ll Hang Myself

"I’ve been Working in the Chaingang. All the Live Long Day…"

"I’ve been Working on the Chaingang. Just to Pass the Time Away"

Mommy don’t you cry.

Mommy don’t you cry.

Mommy don’t you cry No More!

-excerpt from The Unjust JUDICIAL SYSTEM,
by A Faye Hicks/Po’ Poets Project

"Hey Lady, I told you to get moving, you can't stop there," the policeman's hostile voice paralyzed me momentarily. My mom had stopped on Mission St. so that I could get out to buy some Valentines Day cards for my third grade class when a police officer began shouting at us to move the car. She ignored him for a moment so that I could get out, but because I was scared of the man in uniform who was screaming at us I refused to move. After being stopped for about a minute with my mom encouraging me to run out quickly and buy the cards, she gave up and we went to go look for a parking space together. That was when we heard a siren behind us. My mom kept driving so that she could get off of Mission and pull over on Bartlett but the cops thought we were trying to get away. When we did pull over the officer rushed up aggressively to the car for no reason. When he tried to immediately give my mom a ticket, even though she had been stopped for less than a minute, they started screaming at each other.

The screaming escalated until the officer pulled my mom out of the car, grabbed her by the arms, pushed her up against the car violently and clamped on the handcuffs. She was then forced into the cop car. My mom was being arrested for refusing to sign the ticket for double parking on a busy street. I had been crying for a while by now. My mom had tried asking if any of the people passing by would be her witness, but they just ignored her, trying to get away from the cops as soon as possible. Two of the officers were trying in broken Spanish to persuade an elderly Mexican woman to be their witness. I was standing on the corner thinking that they were going to leave me there and take my mother until another officer told me to get into the car. I was just glad to be with my mom. When we arrived at the station I remember the officer asking my mother for our address and then turning to me and asking if what she had said was correct. I responded in a whispered voice, "My mommy doesn't lie." The officer snapped back that he wasn't implying that she had. My mom ended up staying in jail overnight and I was picked up by my after school teacher to spend the night at her house. Ever since that time I have had an unreasonable fear of the police.

"The two men were in a run of the mill fistfight," said James Thull, a witness to a crime, a crime between a police officer and a citizen that ended in a murder of the citizen. Last Wednesday, I attended a press conference at 850 Bryant St to hear of what seems like a fist fight that one cop took too personally witnessed by James Thull. Throughout the conference, it’s obvious that James is uncomfortable having a microphone up to his mouth. He is tall and lanky, his arms reach deep down into his pockets while his shoulders hunch forward. I notice with some amusement how he’s wearing a kind of scruffy sweater and skater shoes. Behind Thull there are two signs that read, "SFPD Not Above The Law" and "SFPD Does Not Equal Get Out Of Jail Free Card." I’m amazed that the soft-spoken Thull is willing to challenge the entire Police Department. He sees it as "some sort of justice situation."

On Saturday February 2nd at around 3:40 pm, Thull was on his way to work when he saw that across the street (about two small car lanes away) there were two men in a fist fight. One was a larger African-American man who he would later find out was Jerome Hooper and the other was a smaller Asian man named Steve Lee. He said in his statement to the Office of Citizen’s Complaint, "it didn’t seem as if one man was attacked by another but as if the two had chosen to engage in a fist fight." Apparently Lee was knocked down twice and then kicked in the chest before Hooper "stepped back away from the Asian man about two full steps." It was then that Lee, while on the ground, pulled out a gun and shot four times in rapid succession into Jerome Hooper’s chest. Thull later found out from his coworkers that the Asian man, Steve Lee, was an off duty police officer. But Thull stated that, "He was not in uniform and as far as I heard and saw, he ever identified himself as a police officer or appeared to be acting as a police officer."

On the outside of the Hall there is an engravement in gold lettering "To the faithful and impartial enforcement of the laws with equal justice to all…" And yet, according to Samantha Liapes, director of Bay Area PoliceWatch, "Officer involved shootings are almost never criminally prosecuted and the officers involved rarely even face disciplinary action." In this case it’s been a month and no action has been taken. "Losing a fist fight is not an excuse for killing someone – not for a civilian, not for an officer…It will be a travesty if Mr. Lee is exonerated based solely on the uniform he wasn’t even wearing when he killed Jerome Hooper," stated Liapes.

After the press conference in front of the Hall of Justice, my editor Tiny told Thull that he was a hero. His response was to look away, completely embarassed. But cases of police brutality and abuse of authority occur constantly and the main reason that they go unnoticed is because there aren’t enough people like Thull who are willing to contradict the Police Department and its skewed "half-truths." In the case of my mother, the officer was reprimanded after she took him to court but it was not because of any witness but because we had a good lawyer. But regardless of that reprimand I still had to experience the incredible fear and vulnerability of seeing some man pushing my mother around violently, cursing at her, and then I had to see her in a jail cell, all simply because she had lost her temper with him and hadn’t been willing to sign a ridiculous ticket.

by Ida McCray and Kiilu Nyasha

Warren William Wells was born in San Francisco's Alice Griffith projects (Double Rock) on Nov. 13, 1947. His first struggle in a predominately Black community was to overcome the stigma attached to his green eyes and light skin. Nicknamed "Dub," Warren got his first taste of prison in 1963 when, at the tender age of 16, he was sentenced as an adult to Soledad State Prison. It was there that he met brothers like George Jackson, Eldridge Cleaver, Alprentice Bunchy Carter, Hugo Yogi Pinell, Fleeta Drumgo, James McClain, and others.

Like so many of our young Black men (and more recently our young sisters), Warren got caught up in the revolving-door prison syndrome. As Soledad Brother George L. Jackson noted, "Black men born in the U.S. and fortunate enough to live past the age of 18 are conditioned to accept the inevitability of prison. For most of us, it simply looms as the next phase in a sequence of humiliations. Being born a slave in a captive society and never experiencing any objective basis for expectation had the effect of preparing me for the progressively traumatic misfortunes that lead so many black men to the prison gate. I was prepared for prison."

While out of prison in 1967, Eldridge brought Warren into the Black Panther Party, whereupon he became the Sergeant at Arms, or Captain Wells. He was also dubbed "The San Francisco Kid." Dedicated and fearless, Warren was a powerful functionary of the Party on both sides of the Bay. In 1968, he was shot and wounded, along with Eldridge, during the fire fight between the Panthers and police that martyred Lil Bobby Hutton, murdered in cold blood by Oakland police.

Warren loved his people, his fellow prisoners. But he hated injustice, racism and this rotten system, and knew exactly where to direct his rage. Needless to say, this level of rebellious consciousness made him a threat and a target.

Back in prison at San Quentin at the age of 22, Warren planted the seeds of struggle, sharing all he had learned from the Party with his fellow prisoners, raising political awareness and organizing prisoner solidarity. One of his best friends was James McClain, who was martyred in the Marin Courthouse Slave Rebellion of Aug. 7, 1970. It was McClain, William Christmas, Jonathan Jackson and Warren who planned that guerrilla move to free the Soledad Brothers -- George Jackson, Fleeta Drumgo, and John Clutchette. Their original plan was to use the hostages taken and make it to a radio station to expose the murderous and brutal prison conditions behind the walls of California prisons at that time.

Kumasi, one of the soldiers who spent time with Warren behind the walls, made the following statement on learning of Warren's death:

"Warren Wells was a complicated and often misunderstood comrade whose history of defiance toward authority and revolutionary activity reaches back to the early '60s. He was a key member of the prison movement, a Captain in the BPP, and was at the center of the storm that raged through the California prison system in the 1970s. There may have been cracks in his personality -- we all have them -- but he will not be counted among the broken men. And I'll miss him."

Warren and Kumasi were leaders in the development of a document known as The Folsom Manifesto, which listed prisoner grievances and demands for major changes in prison conditions, sentencing laws and labor rights as well as an end to the death penalty (which actually happened in 1972, although it was later rescinded). They smuggled it out of Folsom lockup to the general population, resulting in the longest prison strike in California history. On Aug. 24-25, 1970, Warren and Kumasi confronted the San Quentin administration after organizing some 400 Black, Chicano and White prisoners who stood together in solidarity behind the Manifesto.

In 1971, Warren was accused of planning bank robberies and other guerrilla actions from his cell. When his lifetime comrade sister Ida McCray Robinson hijacked a plane to Cuba, it was discovered that she had just visited Warren the day before she was accused of air piracy.

Said Ida, "I learned from Warren how important the Black Panther Party was, how love of people could be translated into a political context, how real men treat women, and how to fearlessly soar like an eagle, i.e., take it to the max.

"After 40 years, Warren knew what was important -- that our responsibility was first to our families, to take care of them and to take care of our people, especially our youth. I loved Warren; I loved his spirit. He never became complacent although he had been locked up most of his life."

On June 29, Warren died in the custody of the California Department of Corrections after "minor" surgery at UCSF Hospital and 17 years, this last bid. He is survived by his only son, Warren Wells Jr., his mother, Marguerite Wells, two sisters, Patricia Ann Well-Caracter and Donetta Wells-Ingram, a host of nieces and nephews and friends and comrades he has known a lifetime.

“The indeterminate sentencing of so many lifers has to be done away with,” says Ida today. “I really feel in my heart that if there was some hope of their release, it would have made a difference in his days. We must work to make the parole board and governor Davis give lifers a date in their forseeable lives when they can come home and be a part of the family, and not a hindrance, ‘cuz they are simply, very old."

by Juan Antonio Pacheco

How can I start this? From the now I guess.

Well, here I am starting my fifty-fifth year, doing close to what I damn well please, and, oh yeah, spending most nights in my van. Yes, I can say I paid my dues. Work, kids, and a failed marriage are all part of my past and present. I can also say I attend Cal State Long Beach, where I am preparing myself to teach and develop a career as a documentary photographer. This all sounds great right, well, some problems have arisen!

"You need roots," my daughter, and others have told me. Roots, I thought I had roots. My children and grandchildren are my roots.

You need, "to get on your feet," someone just remarked. Hell, I have been saying this to others, and myself, all of my life. Planning ahead is one of the major factors in a successful life. I say this all the time. Do I really know what I am talking about? How many of us actually live just for today? Very few, and not without good reason . See, there I go again!. Therefore, I have embarked upon this path. I would like to share some photos with you, and hopefully gain some wisdom along the way.

I would like to call my present lifestyle choice, for the lack of a better term, "a study" in simplification. The anti establishment, anti materialistic, and anti-authority mentality is often expressed by a choice to live within the “creases” of society. Being homeless is one of those creases. Homelessness, from my conversations with some who are, has three root causes. One is economic, the other mental health, and for some, an expression of a “freedom of choice”. A freedom from the constraints of “establishment” dictates and mores. These circumstances, as in many circumstances we may find ourselves in, has its roots and consequences. I would like to experience, address, and report on those consequences through my images and text.

I am not attempting to produce neither "works of art" within the guidelines of postmodern aesthetics, nor art criticism. My main interest is dealing with the importance of one's most basic daily needs—food, shelter from the elements, security, and surprisingly, basic human contact, or a sharing of communal space with others whom we feel care about us. These needs are often denied the truly homeless. I feel I must be particularly sensitive to the issues discussed and the images produced, hence: a self-analysis was the best solution. Empathy through self-immersion is the best way I can describe the approach to my subject matter. I am not in any way trying to pass myself off as an “expert”. Thanks for the opportunity to serve, and for providing an audience for my work.

by Joe B.

To all Editor’s, Publisher’s, Literary Agents, and hard working industry people. I, Joseph Bolden, a POOR Magazine’s columnist appreciate comments on on PM’s-website. If time permits read and respond by email or snail me.
Please Do At.

askjoe@poormagazine.org or snail

P.O. Box #645 1230 Market St.

San Francisco, CA. 94102-4801
I’ve no phone but working on it.

Whatever help you can to a struggling scribbler is priceless.

Thank You for reading past and present works.

On an early Thursday, March, 20, 2002. After a thorough wash, teeth brushing, clothed and half ready for the day.

A free oatmeal breakfast before work.

I heard about a KRON 4 telvisised event based on that homeless special report except the very people talked about were not informed so they can have their input stated too since they live “the problem“ everyday.

Its currious that the big hubbub buzz about Newsome and friends are getting yet its not about them but homeless and working poor.

Three servings later I’m walking towards my worksite.

The food is filling, nutritious, and as its liquidy contents slides through me I pick up the pace to be at work where a bathroom is waiting to empty the excess of oatmeal, raisin, and honey cereal.

Inside my workspace,upstairs so if I sensed the internal movement release an hour later before working on my column.

While sitting on the white oval porcelain bowl feeling waste empty out of me the face of Sup. Gavin Newsome pops into my mind and the Arthurian legend.

I haven’t read much about it except Arthur, hidden son of dead king Uthr as a child pulls the Excaliber Sword from a stone becoming a young boy-king, there’s Merlin, the magician and Arthur’s teacher/friend, Morgan Le Fay, Evil half sister and witch or wizardress, Knights of the round table, a sacret quest for the Holy Grail and more lessons before a last fatefull battle and a promice of King Arthur’s return.

Heady stuff, why it happened while taking a dump is a mystery to me.

I also think of the late John F. Kennedy, scion of a powerful Catholic family giving their blood, resources, before, during and after World War II.

Groomed for a future in politics, Joe Kennedy and his crew died while airborne delivering an unstable explosive compound.

Younger brother John Kennedy by proxy is next in line, His PT Boat Patrol Torpedo Boat 109 when his boat was rammed and sunk by a Japanese destroyer, Kennedy, despite grave injuries, led the survivors through perilous waters to safety. Further information can be found on www.pt-309.org
Ok, discount wars, most people statistically don’t go.

I think of Excaliber as Mr. Gavin’s 23 or 30 odd New York's Model homeless plan, Newsome’s Kennedyesque/Arthur role to help the hapless, poor, downtrodden folk. Mayor Former Sup. Amos Brown and W. Brown as Co-wizards in the cast of Merlin as wise teachers of lofty politics.

A new character introduced is Paublo Stuart a paid Psychiatrist as spellbinder Warlock Morgan Le Fay, using his arcane knowlege of human psychology, using hynotic tell-u-vision to lull both live and unseen audiance into believing Arthur and his followers are the hope of working poor and homeless folks using incarceration, spy camera’s, and centralized systems from a differnt city as an ultimate self help plan.

Paul Boden, a Knight of shining truth hopefully with his own paid Psychiatrist or volunteered on what working poor, homeless folk both need and what’s not.
I thought a bit after wiping my butt a few times. “Nah, He dosen’t think he’s has the mantle of Kennedy.

But like Authur he could go amongst the people disguised as a homeless person or working poor, over hear conversations, talk to folks for a week or 3 months and learn what really going on. His plan might change because of realities he see’s first hand not from some house on a mythical hill.
Camelot is no more though many people await its rebirth.

Time for me to work not imagine human alchemy for a changed heart with knowledge newly found. A dream maybe, but who knows...

Reincarnation could be possible, Arthur, the fallen Kennedy’s, and other hero, heroin’s may return in different guises but for now we frail mortals must do the job with souls, saints, and Gods watching from above... Bye.

by Leroy F. Moore, Jr.

I didn’t know it was OK for a person to endure a physically and emotionally painful episode of harassment due to someone’s fear of one’s name! As a Black disabled man I was afraid when David Duke ran for president but I was forced to see and hear him on T.V., radio and in the newspapers. There are many names that bring uneasy feelings to me i.e. Jerry Fallwell, LAPD, Jesse Helms and the man that stole the White House, Mr. George Bush, Jr. But I am forced to swallow my fear, deal with it and go on. Now in this time of war people can be harassed and certain people’s liberties and civil rights can be stepped on because of fear!

On Friday October 5th, 2001 Black Disabled Yahoo listserve had an email entitled “Disabled Muslim Man Faces Airline’s Harassment at San Francisco International Airport.” This man, named Samir, demanded to know why he was taken off two planes and his wheelchair searched by FBI bomb-searching dogs, causing him to miss his flight and have to wait until the following day to catch a plane home to Portland, Oregon. An Alaska Airlines employer said that “the flight attendant didn’t want him there, on the plane. She was basically afraid of his name.” The Alaska Airline’s customer service department called him to apologize and offered him a free ticket. Samir refused to take it and instead asked for a written apology, payment for phone bills he incurred while staying at a hotel as well as the equivalent of one day’s salary (he missed a day of work because of this conflict).

The airline tried to put the reason for the conflict onto the way his wheelchair was packed, not his name. Samir didn’t accept this reason because it happened twice on two different planes, and to have the FBI and everyone check and repack his wheelchair was unacceptable. And when he got home he confirmed that an Alaska Airline employee told him that his name was the reason he could not travel. This statement erases the airline’s excuse — his wheelchair — that caused him to wait eleven hours, putting him in physical distress, just to have the samething happen on a second plane.

Are we Americans going to continue to react to the incident of September 11th without thinking about how our reactions are affecting people of color, people with disabilities of color and the general public? The tragic events of September 11th caused many deaths and much destruction, and now our reactions to September 11th are causing verbal and physical harassment and abuse to our own brothers and sisters of color in our own country. Where is the healing process??

For more information on this case go to read the article written by Samana Siddiqui at

www.onelist.com/community/Blackdisabled

by Joe B.

Wednesday, April, 3, 2002.Between the early morn and night lots of activities happened from Food Bank cruising for donated delicacies to riding a bus on Valencia and listening to Junebug spitting truth, sacred word gems.

Its yet another day of this Wednesday off which I should have slept through then go to a movie but Nooooo, helping out a little for an upcoming “Resistance Award” dinner.

After deciding to forgo movies I leave late after taking a shower, teeth brushed, my recording machine has no batteries in them I’ll be dusting of an old notepad.

There’s a slight worry of being on the wrong bus at night, light panic looking for ”Modern Times Book Store for Junebug’s return from the “Cuba Sustainability Tour Report & Slide Show. It was a joint Ecology Center/Media Alliance and others recently returned delegation from Cuba.

The team visited mostly Havana about Cuba’s Organic Farming, Green medicine, Farmer’s Market, and Agricultual Collectives, and other alternatives to pesticides use in more developed countries like North America.

The Modern Times Book Store next to the Ethiopian Restaurant on 26th and Valencia Street which ment I had taken the right bus at 6:33 pm.!

Ms. June (Verse) is not here.

Tiny is there giving or selling the “Survival Handbook” on the counter, quickly said hi and bye.

Settle down in the rear of the room where a film projector, video machine, and portable movie screen.

I go out, by a mango juice, return-find a seat waiting for whatever will happen.

The slide show, movie, discussion afterwards is lively and energetic but no Junebug although there was a picture on screen showing her self and a cute cuddly puppie.

By 9pm people who are late are able to see the first film full of lively Cuban music and language.

Fighting sleep as I know Junebug did working earlier the same day must have sapped her near limitless energies that’s what I take naps like a demented vampire.

It was a great function to be at even though Junebug has not shown up.

Oh well, life’s-a twitch then your reborn doing all over again without remembering - you did this before. Bye.

by Clive Whistle, PoorNewsNetwork

Clive is a staff writer for POOR Magazine and a member of POOR’s writer facilitation project, which aims to give voice to very low and no income adults and youth desiring to be heard within the media about issues of race and class oppression.

“WAKE-UP..WAKE-UP!!!” Their voices were knives with serrated edges – pummeling through my battered skull.

“Hey Buddy- ya gotta move”- all I saw was four boots, for several seconds I thought I had been attacked by four talking boots- but then I looked further out of my cardboard cave towards the voices and discovered the boots origin – two police officers – writing in their small brown bendable notebooks –about me! - chronicling my hard life in two or three words of short hand- “ African-American….late 40’s…. Homeless…obstructing sidewalk-substance – alcohol-possible 647j and f violation…and so on….

It had taken almost six hours out of my day yesterday to find what I thought was a safe place – safe, of course is relative when you are homeless – it means maybe the cops won’t see you – maybe – you will get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep- maybe you will get an hour or two alone – maybe….

I resigned to move – feeling a little nauseous – but unwilling to appear “uncooperative” I dragged my body forward and began to collect my stu………oh shit.!!…. “Where’s my stuff?” – I looked around – all of my things- my just-cleaned blankets (which I had spent $14.00 of quarters on at the laundromat the day before)….my little radio and my new batteries – but most terrifying of all – my BACKPACK –with my meds, were gone!!! “Officer- where’s my stuff?

“Well. (Department of Public Works).DPW was here before us – - I guess you’ll have to check with them”

Before screaming, crying, hauling off and slugging the officer- landing me in county jail for longer than I care to think about – I blinked back desperate tears and stumbled down the street with my last remaining belonging – a torn and soiled sweatshirt….

I knew this drill - it would take approximately three hours and change I didn’t have to take the bus to the DPW yard which is located across town – at which point DPW people would act like they had no inkling of what I was talking about when I would describe my… out of the way – under the bridge… location where they had “seized” my stuff while I slept …and the description of my worn-out army-issued backpack.

But worse than anything else, was the loss of my meds- it had take me seven weeks of constant calling back and forth to my health provider while they waited for approval of my prescription under medi-cal- another three days after they got approval to reach me who had gone on a “self-medicated” alcohol binge and couldn’t be found and another five hour wait in my health providers office to actually get the meds- I could not go through this again- I could not….

The Civil Rights workgroup of the Coalition on Homelessness has worked for five years with the Board of Supervisors- (the current administration and the past) – Department of Public Works, Rec and Park – the Police department and so on to get a new policy implemented- that gives homeless folks like me a 24 hour notice on our belongings before they take all of our stuff – a hearing was finally held Tuesday July 3rd 2001 – five years, several hundred broke-down souls, and thousands of pounds of precious belongings later – this measure was debated with Supervisors Gonzalez, Ammiano, and Hall in the Rules committee- before it is taken to the full board.

“My office has worked extensively with advocates on the drafting of this legislation and we are very happy to have it before us today as a proposal” Board Supervisor Tom Ammiano introduced the legislation before the committee

“This legislation is extremely important to protect the civil and human rights of homeless folks in San Francisco, Mara Radar from the Coalition on Homelessness began the heated testimony

“1-5% of the people who have their belongings picked up by us come to reclaim it at our yard” Edwin Lee from the Department of Public Works responded to a question by Supervisor Hall on how many people actually retrieved their belongings from DPW.
“We are willing to work with the city in regards to improving the current situation” Mr. Lee concluded

“I am opposed to this legislation because it will lead to the increase the theft of shopping carts” Lieutenant Bruce from the San Francisco Police Department voiced his one sentence opposition and then leaned back in his chair- keeping his eyes fixed on the three supervisors.

“I hear you officer, because I am opposed to the theft of shopping carts but I don’t think this legislation even speaks about that – this legislation only speaks to the issue of personal property – and I believe that people’s right to their own personal property should be protected” Supervisor Hall responded nervously to the Lieutenent’s recalcitrant statement.

“ I understand that the legislation in fact mentions the belongings in a shopping cart or something like that, so I believe after reading the legislation that it would in fact promote the theft of shopping carts..” Luitenent Bruce’s’ statements elicited several logical arguments by Matt Gonzalez, Ammiano and Ms Radar on why that was not the case – Supervisor Hall became increasingly nervous and more unsure until the Lieutenant excused himself from the proceedings saying, “Excuse me, I have to go, I have another engagement”

After his departure there was supportive testimony by Sup. Ammiano and Sup. Gonzalez as well as members of the community who advocate for the civil and human rights of homeless folks, as well as several homeless and formerly homeless folks who have lost their stuff over and over again…

“Please try to understand the position of someone who is suffering from mental illness, physical pain and homelessness and has spent several weeks trying to get there meds and then loses it because it is disposed of. Please try to understand how horrible that is for a human being” Mary Kate Connor from Caduceus spoke as one of the advocates with words that described how I feel now and if this legislation does not pass will feel again and again and….

The Personal Property and Storage Container Removal and Storage Ordinance was recommended by the Rules Committee with a 2 to 1 vote and sent on to the full board for approval.

by Michael Manning

To read more about Micheal's case; check out the article Fighting to Stay Alive on Illin-N-Chillin.

Dear Mr. Moore,

I don’t know how to begin to thank you for all your support and aid in my case. I just want to say may God bless you, and thank you so very, very much. Words could never express how very grateful and thankful I am to you. Your gifts could never repay you. You are appreciated my brother. I read the article, Fighting to Stay Alive and it touched my heart and I cried. I felt your concern and genuine care about this ongoing and growing injustice upon disabled people.

As you know I’m serving time on an unjust sentence for defending myself against an unprovoked attack by two armed men. You asked me in your letter to describe my feelings. To be quite honest I don’t even know where to begin. I have so many feelings. One is of devastation at being the victim of a violent attack, only to turn around and be tried as the perpetrator of a crime I did not commit. At times I’m angry because my life, dreams, family and freedom were taken away from me for trying to defend myself by fighting to stay alive. Other times I am perplexed at how all the evidence in my case points to my innocence, by showing self-defense. For example, the county’s own forensic scientist, Dr. Isadore Mahalikis, confirmed that the wounds I sustained in the attack were defensive wounds and that I was the victim. Furthermore the deceased had no defensive wounds on him. My clothing was ripped and torn from the struggle, proving that I was the victim, not the aggressor.

This forensic pathologist testifies 95 percent of the time on the county’s behalf, so he was not a freelance pathologist, nor was he hired by my defense attorney. The district attorney acquired him. When he rendered his opinion and facts in my favor he was dismissed as not being credible by the prosecution. At that time the county’s own coroner described the point of entry and direction in which the knife punctured the aggressor and it totally bolstered my version of how the stabbing occurred. My attorney demonstrated how the version I testified to was consistent with the coroner’s description, also pointed out that the prosecution’s theory was inconsistent. Then there is the testimony of a retired detective who testified that the second aggressor was two feet behind me with a baseball bat.

There are so many inconsistencies in the prosecution’s theory and it just amazes me that I was convicted. But, as I looked up to the jurors that sentenced me I notice that none were my peers; no one there was of my race or age group. An alternate juror was overheard making a remark stating, “Mr. Manning is lucky I’m not on the panel. I would have gave him 1st Degree murder just cause he is a ‘Nigger.’”

It’s a living nightmare how racism still plagues us. I had to sit on trial and defend not only my life, but my disability, as I was humiliated by the district attorney as he accused me of lying about my disability and being lazy, not a contribution to society. I was asked by my attorney to demonstrate how I walk without the aid of my cane. After I had done so, the district attorney remarked, and I quote, “I can pretend not to walk also,” persuading the jury to believe I was not disabled and able to walk.

The judge made a comment saying, and I quote again, “I think I know how this works. My wife is a physical therapist, if someone says you're in a pain you’re gonna believe it.” I was facing two prosecutors, one just wore a robe.

The prosecution’s witness testified that I was not the aggressor and that in fact Harry Bureley was, which by Pennsylvania law justifies my situation as self- defense. Plus the fact my fingerprints were not on the weapon, but the prints that were on it were never identified.

I’m just horrified at the gross injustice I’m suffering as well as the injustices others just like me are suffering. There is no justice in this system if you’re Black, poor or disabled. I can’t believe the numbers of disabled citizens in these prisons. I have heard so many horrific stories of injustice. It all comes down to economics; the state gets paid double for a disabled inmate versus a normal healthy functioning inmate. The rising number of disabled inmates is alarming. Something has to be done, people have to be informed of this inhuman treatment. This is why I’m so glad you published this informative, shocking and eye-opening article. We need more people on the outside to be informed and outraged at what’s happening to their follow citizens.

With respect to the recent tragic events in New York and Washington where my family and friends were killed, I pray this spirit of unity will open the public’s eyes to the injustice America inflicts on its own citizens. When America is attacked, it’s called justice when they seek retaliation or revenge on those suspected of attacking us. However, when I’m hacked or another citizen is, and we seek to protect ourselves in the best of battle and not by a revengeful retaliation some time later, I’m labeled a murderer and convicted of a crime I did not commit. It’s very painful to see how this country and system fail us where we are supposed to be protected.

It is really hard to stay focused when you’re wrongfully incarcerated. People can never imagine the pain, torment, frustration and stress you have, especially when your loved ones, family and friends have to come and see you in this type of environment. And then for them to have to leave without you really tears my heart apart. This particular institution I’m in seems to try to break your family bonds with all their restrictions on visits and phone use, not to mention the outrageous charges from the phone company. I’m blessed and praise God that I’m really close to home so my calls are not very expensive and visiting is not as much of a hardship as many of my friends face.

The more I’m here the more I see that this place is not about correction or rehabilitation, it’s purely economics and punishment. The programs here are pathetic and taught by people with no experience or solid education in any areas.

Most of the people here are very racist, not against one color or race, but in favor of their own religions and disability. I have had several peremptory remarks inflicted on me due to my disability. For example, I have been called a “handicap a–hole” and a “three-legged cripple” because I walk with a cane. There is an investigation on this particular institution for its racist practice of not paroling Blacks and Muslims. It’s truly a living nightmare. People who are wheelchair users as well as us who use canes and walkers are forced to walk about 3/4 of a mile for our meals. In the winter we’ve to battle snow and ice, hard rains and frigid tempatures just to be feed the slop they offer us.

I dream about the day I’m released and back with my family and friends. When I get out I want to join organizations such as Disability Advocates of Minorities Organization to help fight for disabled men. There are too many disabled men in these prisons wrongly and unjustly. There are not many Black disabled men here due to the location but there are a lot in the system who need to supported and heard from, so I would like to help as best I can.

My advice to anyone who is disabled and caught up in this system is to put faith in Christ and fight. Try to keep focused, though it’s very hard. You’ve got to keep praying and never cease and think positively and know you will come out of this. Most of all do not get caught up in the negativity these types of environments breed. Stay true to yourself and keep God first and everything else will fall into place. It’s a test of faith and a very hard one at that. When you can’t go on anymore and want to give up just let go and give it to God.

by PNN staff

On may 1, 2002, international workers day in front of Diane Feinstein's office Low wage workers, immigrants and working-class families gather to demand..

*Dignity and equal rights for immigrant workers!

* Not one more cent for the repression and violence of the I.N.S. amnesty & national sanctuary: stop INS raids.

*No to collaboration between the police and the INS.

*No to the national ID law that will discriminate against immigrants
dignity for our working class families and communities!

*Stop discrimination against homeless people.

*Support the national affordable housing bond.

*No to the cutbacks in social services.

*More funding for living wage jobs.

*Freedom for the people of the third world!

*Not one more cent for Israeli terrorism against the Palestinian people.

*No to military intervention in Colombia.

*No to military intervention in the Philippines.

The organizers included INS watch, POWER (People Organized to Win Employment Rights), St. Peter's Housing Committee, Latinos Contra la Guerra, Housing not Borders - Coalition on Homelessness, Chinatown Community Development Center, SF Day Labor Program, Homeless Prenatal Program, La Raza Centro Legal.

by Joe B.

America Loves Consummers,
let's consume shares of

Multi National Corporations.

We worker's can Share Wealth locally and globally.

Blue, pink, white, or no collars, skilled, unskilled, low wage-working poor
families, homeless people, single mother's, father's [who's work is not counted.]

hollywood talent, to hi-tech folks; we all have one thing in
common we're all WORKERS.

Some are paid better salaries, weekly, hourly wages but We Are All WORKERS.

My plan:Worker's Inc. It includes Pooling our collective experiences and/or expertise in economics, and
spread the wealth locally.

That's step 1)
step 2) is pooling monies of many workers in investment clubs, economic enclaves with retired
stock brokers or pentioners as instructors teaching insider skills
to working poor, homeless people or anyone willing to learn
the true realities of local and international economic systems.

Step 3) Spreading the wealth to people who really need it like elderly with with cronic
illnessess, war veterans, sick and dying children, or fast tracking renewable alternative energy research and development.

Step 4) Global Spread of the monies made by Worker's.

International Money Market fund investing keeps
diversifying, dividing as workers help others as they've been helped keeping Worker's Corp. or Inc.
vibrant and strong.

Owning large chunks of American real estate either swampland, desert, or land deemed worthless
could be a first way of getting off-world to be independent of all governments.

Using Capitalism against Capitalism may sound like an oxymoron
in this case it just might work.

Because we workers know the money talks and BS walks.
Let's form many W.I./W.B.A. [Worker's Inc, Worker
Buy America concloms of our own.

I know working poor and homeless America and abroad can do much better than Multi Nationals.
Isn't it about time to really BUY AMERICA?".

Remember:If art work, begging netted us 30, 50, to 100,000 dollars quickly magically we're no longer working poor or homeless folk but entrepreneurial geniuses instead.

P.S. Any suggestions to get this rolling or improving on this concept?

Write me C/O Poor Magazine.

Ask Joe at 255 9th St.

San Francisco, Ca.94103

email askjoe@poormagazine.org

For Joe only snail mail:

PO Box 1230 #645

Market St.San Francisco,

CA. 94102

by Joe B.

Tuesday, Oct.16, 2001, 8:45 am.

Whisper of winter not chilly enough for an overcoat.

Seeing Select President G.W.Bush Jr. actually say no to the Taliban regime when they suggested a neutral country to discuss terms of handing over Osama Bin Laben.

Only when he's satisfied! Does this guy know he's President of all the people not just hawks but doves, conscientious objectors, and anti-war activist's also?

It is chilling to see him determined to "stay the course of" war and not even contemplate alternate ways to settle this quickly, safely, using diplomatic means.

We do not have a King but G.W. is acting like one. Let’s not compound the problem in 2004. Bye

Please send donations to Poor Magazine C/0 Ask Joe at 255 9th St. Street, San Francisco, CA. 94103 USA

For Joe only my snail mail:
PO Box 1230 #645
Market St. San Francisco, CA 94102
Email: askjoe@poormagazine.org

by Connie Lu and Dee Gray/PNN

Dusk - the streets are quiet except for a few passing buses and the occassional car. I am walking up 3rd street towards the Third Baptist Church to attend a neighborhood meeting about the shelter at the Church, or what my editor calls - a meeting about NIMBYISM (Not in My Backyard)
On my way, I pass by a few homeless men, who
are patiently and quietly waiting for the shelter at
Third Baptist Church to open. I ask them how I could
get into the church and was kindly directed around the
corner to an open door

I arrive to find my co-worker Joseph Bolden, staff writer and
photographer for POOR Magazine/PNN, in the second row
of chairs at the Third Baptist Church. The room
itself is spacious with an old piano in the front and
several doors along the white walls decorated with a
few posters and bulletin boards. I look down at the
dark red carpeting with gray grid lines and begin to
notice the muffled sounds of footsteps coming from
upstairs. I hear quick feet scurrying above, I
imagine the pure innocence of small children running
freely in laughter. I also hear the applaud of an
audience as it penetrates through the walls of the
church from a nearby room and flows into where I await
for the Alamo Square neighborhood meeting to begin.

The neighbors of Alamo Square, located in District 4
of San Francisco, invited Matt Gonzalez, who is on the
Board of Supervisors for their district to express
their concerns about the homeless shelter in their
neighborhood during the meeting. The shelter is
located in the Alamo Square district (near the Western Addition) at Amos
Brown's Third Baptist Church. The meeting begins with
Gonzalez approaching the front of the room, as he
opens the meeting up for questions. The residents bring up several
issues and concerns, which are then addressed by
Gonzalez. Then the issue of the homeless shelter is presented.

As the discussion about the shelter begins, I remember the men outside who gave me directions, despite their polite
mannerism towards me, I still expected to hear only
complaints from the neighboring residents about the
homeless being unwanted nuisances because
unfortunately that's how they're perceived.

However, Arla Ertz who lives close to the shelter at Third
Baptist Church begins by voiceing her compassion for the
homeless during the meeting. She explains, "Poverty
is a serious crisis. I would really like us to be
compassionate. I find the homeless to be very
respectful. I don't experience any noise from them."

Prior to the meeting I had spoken with another shelter resident, who stayed at a different shelter near Third Baptist Church. She
agreed with Ertz and explains, "I was treated well at
the shelter, and in turn, the homeless residents respected the neighbors."

Another resident of the Alamo Square neighborhood
named Steve Crosley said, "I am not so much bothered
by the homeless people themselves, but I feel that the
church should be more open about discussing the
shelter with the community."

Then Joseph from POOR Magazine suggested that we invite Amos Brown, Pastor of the Third Baptist Church, to the meeting so the neighbors could
voice their opinions about the homeless shelter since
he was actually present at church, but just not at the
meeting. However,Joseph's suggestion was not taken
into consideration because Captain Fagan of the SFPD
defended Pastor Brown, claiming that the invitation would
not be appropriate because it would not give Pastor Brown
enough prior notice. Matt Gonzalez then closes the
issue of the shelter by suggesting, "It would be a
good idea to call Brown to invite him to discuss the
issues about the shelter before we go any further."

Currently, there are several contradictory issues
surrounding the shelter at Pastor Brown's church because he
has been very outspoken about his views against the
homeless. The whole time he was a SF board supervisor he voted against all civil rights issues regarding issues of homelessness and poor people. Yet he decided to open a shelter for the
homeless at his church. In addition to this paradox,
Ertz explains that the shelter, which is scheduled to
close by the end of June is an "illegal shelter"
because Brown does not have a permit to run it either.

After the meeting, I spoke with Arla, a warm-hearted
woman who notified POOR Magazine of this meeting in
the first place due to her concern for the growing
Nimbyism in her neighborhood. She spoke with concern for the
homeless residents of the shelter in her calm and soothing voice.
My desire to understand the source of her compassion leads me to
asking her why she cares for the homeless. She
describes her job as the Program Director for
"Draw Bridge," which is an art program for homeless
children and how she was raised and taught to be
empathetic.

I leave the meeting and the afternoon sun has faded into a dark night sky. I walk past the shelter. I listen for the supposed noise claimed by the neighbors. Once again, I hear nothing but the occasional car and my quickly approaching bus.

Letter to POOR from Arla Ertz

I really appreciate the interest of the POOR staff, and I appreciate your following up on this issue. I went to another meeting on Wednesday. It wasn't a meeting of the neighborhood association, but of "McAllister Neighbors." These are folks who live closest to the Third Baptist Church, not the whole Alamo Square Neighborhood Association (ASNA) group. This meeting was specifically for neighbors concerned about the shelter.

This was the hardest meeting of my life so far, I think. I had no allies in
that room whatsoever. I found it disheartening to be so unheeded and to see
that I live among people whose classism runs so deep, yet they are clueless
about it and simply think they're right and that naturally everyone should
live like them. Anyway, I'm attaching the minutes of that meeting for you.
I notice that nothing I said appears in the minutes. It's like I wasn't
even there. I thought I presented myself very diplomatically and swallowed
a lot of things for the sake of maintaining a dialogue. However, at one
point when I proposed talking with the people at the church and inviting
someone from the Interfaith Council to be present, a woman there said, "Why
negotiate against yourself?" She said we must advocate to shut the shelter
down so the city will learn to do these things right. Another man lectured
me, saying we must advocate the same. I said I'd go a step farther and
suggested we advocate for housing that's affordable to poor and homeless
people and then they wouldn't even need shelters. The whole group
simultaneously shouted me down at that point.

Anyway, you get the idea. And as well, they rejected the idea of Matt
Gonzalez conducting mediation sessions. They said Amos Brown won't talk to
Matt Gonzalez.

Thanks again for your interest and help,

Warmly,

Arla

For more information you can contact them at:

Alamo Square Neighborhood Association

P.O. Box 15372

San Francisco, CA 94115

Phone: 552-0673 (Sue Valentine, president)

by A Faye Hicks

The PEOPLE are being Scattered

shuffling along with, blankets, backpacks, shopping bags & pushing carts

No more Unity in the poor Nations

Park benches uprooted----shopping carts over-turned, homeless people unjustly
arrested

Police circling around like VULTURES,camouflaged as Human Beings

The sick living in doorways, & behind cardboard boxes.

Bathrooms locked, water fountains denied

“This is a sad state” Thought the tired so-called Bag Lady

Alone, Mental Facilities sorely tested, Weakened by a gnawing hunger.

From her womb, Misery was etched upon her copper tone belly

She paused too rest for a moment

Dark eyes glazing into the distant skies

Pondering the next move

Remembering the Peaks of her non-existance

An old Lady at Eighteen

Birds flying in formation, overhead

Dark clouds floating, silently in shapes of nightmares

Her only safe shelter the Blazing Sun, capturing her attention

“If only I had a Star to wish upon or Something I can get some energy from.

She stepped upon the wet, well-cut lawn of a Californian City Hall

Its dampness drinking in & nourishing her being

Her breast painful from unused Mother’s Milk

Sticking to her dress, Ragged around the edges of her soul.

Its wetness the Morning Dew or Her Deluge of Tears

Coming from deep within a inner well.

THE POOR POOR NATION

Ah, The grass, so soothin to her wiggling toes. COMFORT

Half worrying about Police Surveillance

Knowning she was on Public Property

Not daring to rest

Because a trespassing ticket, would dip off into her Funds?

The gold nail polish on her sun burnt toes glinting magically

Spiraling undrugged thoughts upward seeking SUCCOR

A hole in the Bushy Hedges?

Dare she rest? A Haven?

Her curled into a Tiny Ball! Her hide-away bed The City Hall

With its Black & Gold Dome, warrin against a winter sun

A King’s Ranson, Battling against the principals of the Homeless Nation

Unnatural Flags, weavin in the Beautiful Breezes, Compromising Life

One Nation Under God?

YO! YES

The power hunger god!

The prestigous god!

The Greedy Gut god!

And The blood thirsty one!

Ah, Knowling she signed, Better get a move on

There is no rest for my weary Bones here.

by Judith M. Hansel

This report is second in a series of reports that relate how the US Department of Agriculture's fraudulent implementation of Title 7 USCS C.F.R. 1955.116 caused me to become homeless.

The first segment of this series, dated August 8, 2001, explained how I returned to live in Wisconsin from Maryland and purchased, for cash, a house through a rural homeownership program under the USDA. During the first weeks that I occupied the house, I discovered that the septic system, the roof, and the pump for the well, needed to be replaced.

I went to the Farmers Home Administration office (the agency that implements the regulation) and asked the agent why he advised the regional director to issue the release of restrictive covenants document when the house had not been repaired. The agent advised me to contact the regional director. I wrote a letter to the regional director whose office was in Stevens Point. His reply stated that his agency had done nothing wrong and that he considered the matter to be closed. I was stuck with a worthless property.

I had to live in the house due to finances and, anyway, I was not willing to give up and lose the $24,500 that I had paid for the house. I realize that this sum of money seems cheap for a house on two acres. However, in the rural midwest there is not a large population that demands housing. Not many people want to live on two acres in the middle of nowhere. I did.

The land around my two acres was owned and farmed by Del Monte and Green Giant. Both used airplanes to deliver pesticides and other chemicals to their products. Once helicopters were brought in to spray the chemicals. I felt like I was in a war zone. There are organizations attempting to legislate sustainable farming. The Wisconsin Department of Agriculture was pleased when I no longer cut the grass on my land but allowed natural vegetation to grow.

I attempted to hire attorneys to take the USDA to court for fraud, but I could find no one to represent me. An attorney in Milwaukee told me to send him my documents and he would phone me with his opinion. When he called he told me, "You are right about the fraud. But, this stuff goes on all the time and Iím not taking your case."I was glad to hear that I was reading the documents correctly, but I was distressed to hear that governmental fraud was institutionalized with no remedy available for cheated citizens.

The septic system was pumped every six months and I never used my washing machine again. I inquired about the cost of a new septic system. The environmental regulations had been changed regarding septic systems and, combined with the type of land the house was built on, the cost of a septic system was $11,000.

In 1989 I hired an attorney to handle my divorce. In March, when the divorce was final, I took my documents to his office. He briefly perused them and said, "There is nothing that can be done about this."

"But," I argued, "The covenants state that they are enforceable in any competent US court."

"There is nothing that can be done," he repeated.

I never paid that attorney the $6,000 he charged for my divorce. When he tried to get a judgment against me, I answered his complaint and stated that his refusal to sue the USDA proved that he violated his fiduciary trust. I never received another bill from him.

In 1990 I began to write to the federal government in Washington, D.C. . At first, the US Justice Department was interested in the fraud report that I sent to them. Later, they told me to stop writing them.

I worked with a reporter at the Washington Post on a 1985 story. I sent him the documents thinking that here was another juicy story about the US government. "Do not send me anything more," he said when he called me. "We aren't doing a story about fraud in the USDA."

Between June 1990 and June 1993, I contacted everyone in the government who had any responsibility in enforcing government regulations. Senator Kohl finally suggested that I apply for a low-cost government loan to repair the house. The Office of Inspector General of the USDA reported to me that he found no evidence of wrongdoing.

Government officials are experts at stonewalling. They write letters that have incorrect facts and out-of-sequence events. They are liars. I have all the letters in reply to my requests for help.

I applied for three mortgages over a period of time at Union State Bank. Each time that I applied, I paid the bank's attorney a $75 fee to search the title. He reported the title as free of any clouds. He is either incompetent or corrupt. You decide. Through these three mortgages I received $23,000. I paid $24,500 for the house.

At this point, I needed to decide whether or not to just walk away from the property. In order to make this decision I went to Bear Butte outside Sturgis, South Dakota in the Black Hills. The Black Hills are sacred land to the Sioux and Bear Butte is where the Sioux go on vision quests. That is what I did. The only wisdom that I received was that I could either wage a battle or walk away from the property. What I could not do was tell people that God told me to do either.

I decided to get the issue into the court system. The only way that I knew how to do this was to stop paying the mortgage. I was interested in seeing justice done not only for me but also for other citizens who were either stuck with the property they had bought or who had to abandon the property. I decided to stay with the issue regardless of where it might lead me. I never thought that following this course could put me in danger.

I was wrong.

This is the second installment in a series Judith is writing on her long nightmare with government-backed fraud which lead to her current state of homelessness. She is also writing a book entitled Escape from America: An Expose of International Treachery, which will be completed by September 15 of this year.

Email: judy1hansel@hotmail.com