Story Archives 2002

by Gretchen Hildebran/PoorNewsNetwork

The SF Board of Appeals hearing room was packed and just like last time, we were asked to move to the overflow room down the hall. We were asked many times but nobody wanted to budge. Commissioner McInerney, the one who left us waiting for hours last time, asked the board to be recused from a case yet again. The tenant advocate sitting next to me muttered under his breath, "He better not leave." The SRO resident sitting behind me was more straightforward. He yelled out to the wayward commissioner, "You stick around now, we’re waiting for you!"

I had arrived at the Board of Appeals hearing room at five, to wait with the SRO tenants, housing advocates and homeless folks, for the law to be laid down on the West Cork Hotel case. We waited for over four hours in December and another two hours last Wednesday night for a vote that finally took about ten minutes to debate. After 6 months of illegal operation as a tourist hotel, West Cork was officially found to be in violation of the law that protects Single Room Occupancy (SRO) hotel rooms from being converted to other uses.

The stakes were high. The 88 rooms of the West Cork are a precious resource for folks that can only afford an SRO room. These rooms were vacated twenty years ago when the city shut down the hotel (formerly the Empress Hotel) for countless health and safety violations. In May of last year they opened again—to tourists.

For this community, reclaiming the West Cork is not a symbolic act, but one that will save lives. If the West Cork landlords can turn their SRO into a tourist hotel and charge double or more the nightly fees and get away with it, other landlords will certainly follow their lead. And with downtown businesses already eager to turn the TL into a shiny tourist trap, this case could set a dangerous precedent. I recall the Redevelopment Agency meetings I have attended, where the value of an SRO was measured against parking spaces and luxury lofts. It scared me that these decisions aren’t in the hands of folks who live in SRO’s, who don’t get to choose where they park or where they sleep.

The waiting got to me and I finally did leave my seat, and in the overflow room I met Shorty, an energetic SRO tenant and activist wearing a bright bandana. He reassured me that we were going to win. "This will serve as a warning to other landlords as well, that they will be sued by people who need this housing." And after all, the law created to protect low-income housing stock backed us up, right?

Laws, however, are always up to official interpretation. We rushed back to the hearing room for the very brief statements of the Board (McInerney decided to show up this time) on the matter. Board President Arnold Chin and Commissioner Allam El Qadah both sympathized more with the investments of the West Cork landlords than the housing rights of tenderloin residents. Luckily the importance of low-income housing was not lost on Commissioner Saunders who said her decision was influenced by SF’s current housing crisis. She also noted that the West Cork landlords "are not new to the process or naive to the city’s policies." Commissioner McInerney then surprised the crowd by siding with Commissioners Saunders and Cullum in voting to uphold the six-month old ruling against the West Cork.

While the case against the West Cork officially had been argued by the Tenderloin Housing Clinic, it was people power that finally convinced the Board to get on with it and do the right thing. This had been the fourth time we had packed the room to see justice done. This time, when the hearing room emptied out after the ruling, we celebrated in the knowledge that we didn’t have to come back again, at least not for this case.

Larry Edward sat energetically and patiently through the two hours of delay before the case was heard. As we were jubilantly leaving City Hall he was passing out snacks declaring, "It just goes to show, when oppressed folks come together they can win." Edward described himself as currently homeless but said he was here because "SRO rooms and homeless folks, we’re all on the same ticket." He was feeling positive about his option to move into a decent room after this decision. A fellow celebrant then chimed in that another SRO owned by the same landlords, the Alder Hotel, had been cited for over 100 code violations in the past six months, most of them fire safety violations.

On the steps of City Hall the air was cool and fresh and people were jumping with the energy of the recent victory. I asked Randy Shaw of the THC whether we would have to fight this again in court. As far as he knew, the landlords had recently changed their tune and instead of readying a legal challenge they were courting a non-profit to lease and manage the building. Hopefully the West Cork and all of its now-swanky 88 rooms are on their way to being desperately needed low-income homes for people. If not, Shaw stated, "We will let them know that they are violating the law." And we’ll keep coming back until they stop.

by Lani Kent/PoorNewsNetwork

June in LA. All 450 of us highschool students filtered into the crowded gym and took seats. It was wet with heat and my long
hair stuck to my wet neck. An unfamiliar man stood
center on the gym floor, emaciated and limp. The
microphone in front of him seemed more capable of
speech than he appeared to be, yet he motioned to our
school principle that he was ready. We settled, and
then the lights dimmed: "Hello class of 1993. Please
look at the person on your left, and then look at the
person at your right," he said with a voice too loud
for a body so weak, "In ten years, one of you three will
be HIV-positive."

It being graduation
rehearsal, and adhering to the standard simplicity of
sitting in alphabetical order, one of my two seatmates
appeared to be doomed. I did not know either of them
well, so I did not feel bad when I justified in my
head that they were both boys and I was the girl and
to make things statistically even, HIV would have to
take one of them. I released all my fear with this
convenient conclusion; with the logic of a
16-year-old, I was safe from AIDS and free of
responsibility and consequences. No longer in such a
hurry to avoid responsibility, I do think of those
boys often, for ten years is only 18 months away.
That nameless man who drove to my high school on that
hot June day lives in my memory.

Today, there is a nameless man in South Africa who
drives a lot. Much like the man who spoke at my
graduation practice, this man travels to schools and
community centers and orphanages, where he attempts to
spread life-saving information. Information the South
African government, and its leader, Thabo Mbeki,
willingly ignores—critical information that is
disposed of like spoiled food, leaving people swarming
around it, a now-rotting feast of health that could
have been theirs. This man who drives a lot attempts
to educate young children about AIDS and safe sex,
young children for whom statisticians have labeled
illiterate and poor, nameless faces with big bellies.
These children who, according to research on the AIDS
epidemic in South Africa, will become HIV-positive
adults. Daily, this man fights the statistics by
educating the numbers.

Of the 36 million people on this planet infected with
HIV, almost 70 percent are living in poverty in
Africa. The poor man who drives a lot has a lot more
driving to do, for South Africa’s government-funded
programs prove oblivious to the needs of the poor.
Currently, programs do not address the basic
precautionary measures to prevent HIV transmission,
they do not address the specific circumstances by
which poor people are exposed, and they do not
distribute to them the drugs needed to combat the
virus. In effect, HIV and AIDS spreads further and
deeper into the population least capable of dealing
with it. A fact such as using a condom to prevent the
spread of disease is a foreign concept to many South
Africans. Unless one happens to be on the driving
mans route of knowledge, this fact will remain
elusive.

Information that most of the world believes mythical
or calls urban legend, is real for many South African
people. For centuries traditional healers have paved
the road to health for their people, and for centuries
this road has absorbed various urban legends, gaining
strength and carrying more people. For example, a
popular legend has over-shadowed condom-use, as it
promotes unprotected sex by convincing women that
semen helps them stay young and fertile.

Consequently, fear of infertility has kept many women
away from condom use. Another myth attributes
magical healing powers to young women. Youth and
brilliance have been elevated to such outstanding
importance that young women become magical. This myth
has been taken to repulsive and bewildering heights in
South Africa.

Circulating throughout the continent, stealing
international headlines and questioning the validity
of Africa’s traditional healers, this urban legend has
lead to the regular raping of women, young girls, and
infants. Several, but not all traditional healers, or
witch doctors as they have become known in America,
have passed along the myth that having sex with a
virgin will cure HIV and AIDS. In a country where
urban legends thrive as a fact, and are readily
available to the people who need some type of
information to deal with their poverty and disease,
children are now being raped everyday. Scared men who
don’t know what’s wrong with them but have heard of
this absurd cure have self-diagnosed, they think youth
and brilliance will cure them of AIDS.

Add to this ancient road of misinformation another
popular myth: Having sex with a lunatic, or a mentally
ill female, will lead a man to riches. With 10
percent of the population suffering from some type of
mental illness, there is yet another justification for
the raping of women. Recent headlines in Nigeria
address the problem of pregnant lunatics roaming the
streets. Now consider that 90 percent of the
population seeks treatment from traditional healers,
the very doctors who frequently confirm the antiquated
tales plaguing South Africa. Pregnant lunatics and
violated adolescent girls are not the outcome of
misguided evildoers; they are the unfortunate products
of a society without the information to lead them to
healthy resolutions.

Two men were just sent to court for raping a five-month-old child. An eight-month-old was found raped
and left to die on the side of a road. Child rape in
Johannesburg is said to be up to 10 young girls a day.

Two rapes occur every minute in Africa, the highest
incident of rape in the world. Gang rape is common in
elementary school, and often goes un-reported. Eighteen hundred
new HIV infections are reported a day. Thirty-three percent of women,
children, and babies are HIV-positive due in part to
this rape, and the government has done nothing to
address this specific situation that lives and
breathes through legend and poverty. The urban
legends strengthen, the poor grow diseased and poorer,
and there is only one man driving around in his car
trying to dismantle this lethal system of beliefs.

The man who came to my school and addressed all 450 of
us American students did not have to dispel any
overwhelming urban myth; he had only to confirm
well-known facts—facts we read daily in our media,
study in our classrooms, and talk about with peers.
The process of breaking down old myths and introducing
new information has proved difficult on many different
levels for South Africans. As the driving man tries
to inform the people for whom Mbeki has kept
uninformed, he has encountered men whose only power
comes from their sexual organs. The self-respect and
dignity of many South African men has not been
restored after being brutalized under the apartheid
system; many of these men use rape to regain the power
lost to them.

These men, or rapists, are guilty of
savagery, that is certain; but they are committing
savagery in a society that does not base its actions
in science and logic. Their decisions are found in
the legends and tales, the spirits and stories that
confirm South African culture. They work within a
completely different set of rules than we do in
America, and they have a government intentionally
withholding valuable information from them. How can we
hold a rapist 100 percent responsible for his crime,
when the only doctor his country has ever known told
him to do it? When his own leader has denied him
every other possible solution? How can we judge his
desperation? We have the luxury of knowledge that
South African people do not have; knowledge they may
not even want. The challenge for South Africa will be
to dispel numerous lethal myths without dispelling an
entire way of existence.

One small victory for South African people concerns
Thabo Mbeki and his political stance on HIV and AIDS.
He just recently, although reluctantly, withdrew his
statement that HIV does not cause AIDS. He did not
replace his statement with a new one, nor did he
administer credibility to the West’s belief that HIV
leads to AIDS. Mbeki simply retracted an earlier
statement that bestowed upon him international scorn.

His original stance has successfully ensured that AZT
is not distributed to the population at large, even
though the drug could be readily available to him and
his entire country at 30 percent of what the rest of
the world pays for it. A financial bargain that could
prevent infected mothers from passing HIV onto their
children, and minimize the risk of rape victims from
becoming infected with AIDS. He denies this to his
people. Interestingly, though, is that Mbeki does
make AZT freely available to members of parliament.
They, and other wealthy South African people who can
afford international AZT prices, visit the few medical
doctors practicing in South Africa.

The small and
almost hidden victory here is that Thabo Mbeki took a
step back from ignorance by retracting his statement
that HIV does not lead to AIDS. We anxiously wait to
see where he goes next. Maybe the man who drives all
over South Africa will not have to do it alone for
much longer.

The nameless man who spoke at my graduation rehearsal almost nine
years ago drove a dilapidated Toyota Tercel out of my
school parking lot. His real job, or the one that
paid, was at the recycling center next to the car
wash. Up until two years ago, I would always see him
in front of the recycle bins, sorting glass or reading
soiled newspapers. I talked to him once, but didn’t
tell him how I remembered him slumped and standing
small with a big voice in the middle of my school
gymnasium. I didn’t tell him how I had manipulated
his facts into convenient untruths, simple myths that
comforted me. On that hot day nine years ago I was
not much different from most South African people,
except that I knew I was wrong. My myth was intentional.
Sometimes I wonder, if I had never heard about AIDS
beyond that day, if facts were not sprayed across our
daily media, might I still be rationalizing deathly
statistics into neat little male/female categories?
What if that man never drove his Tercel to my school?

The man who drives all over South Africa is a
non-practicing playwright; he hopes to one day make
money by selling his words. He is a speaker by trade,
HIV-positive and well informed about his disease. He
is finally seeing progress, or at least finding people in
support of the message he is trying to spread. He
spoke at a school recently where a young girl had
actually heard of condom-use. He also found a clinic
that somehow secures AZT and provides it to the
community at no cost. This nameless man smiles as he
drives by taxi stands in Johannesburg that now fly
banners reading: "It is illegal to have sex with a
child."

by Tommy Ates

Well, well, what a difference a huge financial collapse can
make! The Bush administration is now getting bushwhacked with inquiries
and rumors regarding the Enron meltdown. Who would have thought the
Houston-based oil broker, whose dealings in hidden partnerships and
'cooked' financial records to hide enormous losses (plus, being America's
seventh largest company), would have finally healed Washington from
patriot amnesia stemming from the September attacks? Well, I'll be! Money
does buy happiness!

In terms of 'good old boys,' we can add Treasury Secretary Paul O'Neill (a
Democrat) and Commerce Secretary Donald Evans (old Bushite) to the 'no see
evil, no hear evil, no speak evil' crew, even though the devil knocked on
the door and they answered. No wonder the nation's economic policy cannot
see the forest for the trees, it is on the political donor's beck and
call.

All the while, Presidential spokesperson Ari Fleischer says the Bush
administration has no prior knowledge of Enron's predicament or that they
intervened as the company's behalf to the disbelief of many in Congress.
How can executives be able to contact secretaries of the Cabinet and have
word not go to the President's hands? It's a shame that the Bush
administration may have not blown the whistle on Enron's dirty dealings
before thousands of innocent workers lost their jobs as well as retirement
benefits.

But seriously, can anyone really be surprised that Enron executives
(Chairman Kenneth Lay and co.) had access to heads of the Treasury and
Labor departments to give them the heads up and possible want help? After
all, Enron has been President Bush's biggest contributor and the company's
mammoth political contributions helped bolster many Republicans into
office. The Enron debacle is a prime example of money buying access and
how the corporation can circumvent laws enabling the legality of
white-collar robbery of the lower-classes, while blue-collar masses face
severe penalties for defying the corporation (even without a gun), just
for slipping a piece of paper to the bank teller.

To make things worse, the Republican administration never offered to
provide relief for the employees or suggest solutions (via resolutions) to
make corporate behavior like Enron's less likely to occur. An official not
telling how a stock price once valued at $83 could plummet to less than a
dollar undermines the public trust. With no agenda, yet quiet smiles in
the cabinets' public statements, more Americans are realizing that
Attorney General John Ashcroft and Interior Secretary Gale Norton are not
just conservative anomalies, rather they are part of a wider, greater
effort of conservative appointees to provide legislative cover for big
business to generate greater profits as the average, working-class
American suffers.

Meanwhile, all the flying paper (not from World Trade Center) nearly
blinds everyone to the little told plight of indigent, migrant workers who
have helped to the cleanup Ground Zero. Many of these working-class
laborers (who worked alongside firemen and police) were recruited by
contractor firms to clean at the site, as well as the streets in downtown
New York, but even in the extreme sadness of the tragedy, business
continued as normal, with many workers being stiffed in pay and forced to
work long hours. Now many of these unsung (and unappreciated) heroes are
developing throat and lung ailments due to their exposure.
Unfortunately, the Bush administration has not taken an active step in
protecting its most vulnerable workers; but luckily New York State is
attempting to accommodate their needs. Apparently the administration is
taking a cue from Enron - accept the credit they didn't create and leave
the voiceless others holding the bag.

However, the migrant workers are not alone in their plight, many
downtown residents, firemen, and police officers are also suffering from
ailments due to the smoke and ash that permeated the air as the towers
fell. Many of which are now on personal leave unable to work. The EPA
declared it safe for residents (and workers) that the area was safe to
return in less than a week. Could it be that another government agency
spoke to soon in the "Keep America Rolling" campaign (i.e. the Office of
Homeland Security with the shoe bomber)? I hope not; there does not need
to be more innocent victims post-Sept. 11 besides the Afghan people, and
the hundreds of detained Arabic men.

As for the Enron-gate distraction, will there be criminal charges ordered
in the wake of the multi-million dollar theft? Maybe. Will the executives
still keep most, if not, all of the booty? You 'betcha! The American
justice system in inaction for a price!

Yes, folks; it may be sad; but I, for one, am ironically comforted to see
that human nature is no different than the system under which we live: be
it a rich man doing insider trading or a poor man performing a bank
robbery, greed is universal.

Tommy Ates is 27 year-old black male from Austin, Texas, trying to get a
get a job, keep a job, and not go crazy. You can reach him at atesbodhi5@aol.com
Left Is RightTM (http://www.leftisright.net)

by MAri/Youth in the Media Intern

"People with mental illness have been shot by the San Francisco Police Department, and the SFPD haven't had any real training on approaching these folks in a non-threatening way.", Leroy Moore, head of Disability Advocates for Minority Organizations, (DAMO) and columnist of Illin' and Chillin' at POOR Magazine was angry. " These senseless crimes must STOP!" Moore's responses to my questions about the lack of police crisis training in San Francisco reminded me of a story told to me by one of my friends about a 15 year old girl named Molly X. She had sufferred from mental illness, and was emancipated from the foster care system. One day, she was at a shopping mall in Palo Alto. She started to break down and started screaming in the mall. Police came and told her to stop screaming twice, and she didn't stop screaming. Then the police shot, and killed her. There are many more stories like this, where the police's interaction with people in psychiatric crisis ends up in the death of the person they were supposed to be helping.

Idriss Stelly was another young man who was shot and killed by the police. He was having a psychiatric crisis at the Metreon Movie Theatre, so his fiancée called the police for help. But the police did not help him, they killed him. He was 23 years old, just two years older than I. He had a 4.0 GPA, and was enrolled in Heald College. He was a youth organizer. He loved and took really good care of animals; in fact he had three cats himself. He was also going to get married. I started thinking what can I do to make sure that this does not happen again? I am a Youth Commissioner; I represent youth at City Hall, so I decided to work on writing a resolution. A resolution is a piece of paper urging whomever to do what you want them to do. A resolution is one of the ways to get things done at City Hall.

After doing some research into the issue, I discovered there was a police crisis training program for police officers, which taught them how to interact with people who have mental illnesses. The police crisis training program reminded me of the Quaker's model called "moral treatment," which was based on a belief that people who have mental illnesses are human beings and should be treated as such. The odd thing is even with the urgent need for this training program, it only had trained about 20 "first responders" (patrol officers) since the program began .

So I started to work on the resolution pushing to get at least 25% of police officers trained on how to deal with people who are going through a psychiatric crisis within two years. Working on writing this resolution was very hard. I was working on something that a lot of people disagreed with, and/or had their own very specific ideas about.. The resolution went through so many revisions I can't even count the number of times it was changed. It took about a whole summer and a month to finish it.

On Monday, October 1, 2001 I introduced the resolution to the Youth Commission. The resolution was passed unanimously by the commission. Then on
Thursday, October 4, 2001 the Board of Supervisors' Rules Committee called a hearing on the Idriss Stelly's case. At that hearing, I read the resolution that the Youth Commission passed. Also some community advocates at the hearing stated that one of the Supervisors "pick" up the resolution. Before the end of the hearing Supervisor Tom Ammiano stated that he would "pick" up the resolution.

In December, the Board of Supervisors’ Rules Committee looked at the resolution to see if they wanted to recommend this to the Board of Supervisors, and to see if they wanted to make changes. They made some changes, but did not change the point of the resolution. The resolution states that "in two years, 25% of a First Responders of the San Francisco Police Officers per shift, per station complete this
training" and "that within one year at least 12-13% of First Responders per shift, per
station must have completed this training; including those who have supervising
authority when responding to an individual with psychiatric crisis" and "that this training is
maintained at current quality levels until such time all police officers are trained." The resolution also calls for semiannual reporting as stated "in June of 2002, and every six thereafter, the Police Department shall report to a Committee of the Board regarding the status and success of the Police Crisis Intervention Training for Police Officers."

In January of, 2002 the resolution passed before the Board of Supervisors. Every Supervisor who was present voted for the resolution. Supervisor Maxwell was not present. The resolution passed with ten votes.

The resolution is now being forwarded to the Mayor. He can do one of three things he can sign the resolution, not sign it, or veto it. If the resolution is vetoed by the Mayor, its back to the Board of Supervisors. for another vote. The mayor has until January 21 to make a decision.

As I looked at a beautiful picture of Idriss posted on Leroy’s column, his words reverberated through my mind "People with mental illness have been shot and killed by the SFPD and these senseless crimes against mentally disabled people must stop"

If this resolution passes, I believe it will.

by Joe B.

Since everyone would be talking about The Honorable, Rev. Martin Luther King.

Mortal, feels felt pain worried about the future of his wife, children, and generations coming into being.

Both good and rebellious son, father, husband, loyal friend, visionary, peace and anti-war freedom fighter. Brave-reluctant and martyr to the emergence a burgeoning global freedom of all humanity.

I felt that speaking on a weighty subject as Rev. King, his ongoing legacy is something others would do better at than me.

Then again, many voices may have been silenced because of September 11, 2001 - and I want mine on record even if its never read I'll know that I wrote some minor tome the day after Martin Luther King Day / Wednesday, January 16, 2002.

I don't know why his real birthday is not celebrated next Monday, January, 21, 2002?

Is it because it happens to fall on a business day, or that honoring him on the 15th instead of his real birthday, takes the sting out what this man with help of many people, around the world publicly shamed America to its knees, knocking all the old assumptions and cracking a few foundations to its core.

In the Schizoid American soul, in the mid 1960's both Martin Luther King and Malcolm X seem to be polar opposites of each other: One seeking to change their country using the soulforce of Gandhi's peace which got him assassinated in the 1940's. (early, middle, late I don't know?)

The other demanded from his nation self respect, self determination and above all for his people "Lost in America" to rise up and protect themselves, family, friends, when provoked or attacked. In other words have enough firepower
take out any attacker(s) "By Any Means Necessary."

In a Middle Class America both are seen as enemies instead of mental liberators of stale, stalled, bankrupt policies and laws. And for being loud alternatives constantly harping how to improve and change America. Both are killed.
Sanctioned contracted hits.

That's the unanswered question why kill both, unless seperately they were saying and showing America's two faces simultaneouly to itself.

Its only solution isn't dialogue, neutral meeting places to try hashing out and understand, a people's overboiling anger but also love but leathal means.

I worried about when Ambassador Andrew Young, Jesse Jackson go overseas, diffused problems and return only to be cold shouldered by the U.S.

Now the Honorable Rev. Al Sharpton is going overseas
in his to visit India or Pakistan.

An outspoken civil rights advocate, arrested with three others in May for staging a protest on the inhabited Puerto Rican island of Vieques, where the US military conducts bombing
exercises. (from ABC News)

He's rested up and out of a jail after being released from federal prison in New York. The the old "Free Radical" tag.

But the guy after 3 months and 31 pounds lighter
this 'Freed Radical might just seem a joke especially if his supposed planned trip to India or Pakistan end in De-Nuclear stand down of both countries.

Mr. Sharpton did unsuccessfully ran for the Senate in 1994 and for New York City mayor in 1997.

The way things are going why not try again?

Cornell West, a Harvard professor of African-American studies and philosophy, will head Sharpton's exploratory committee.

And if Sharpton loses again what about Cornell West.

Anyway I worry because if Sharpton does pull a miracle
overseas as soon as he returns or possibly on route assassins may lay in wait because the man could possibly be our next and first truly Black American President of These Yet To Be United States. (The Associated Press) guided me and I thank them.

Well, hope that's food for thought, any ideas? Bye.

PS Next time back to the old Housing Care adds
('gotta do 'somethin with my time on my off days - I may be sitting on my can in someone's home but it'll still be work - uhh, right?

by Staff Writer

Black, Dark, Deep Abyss

rotten, decomposing, , evil spirit surrounds

the thoughts of the negativity that people think about those "other" people,

those "homeless, lazy, why don't you go home" youth.

But look into our soul to see if your assumptions are false.

Because if you look inside just for a second, you will see struggle, heroism, survivor
instincts, and warrior traits.

You will also see the pain, hurt we feel from the foster care system, gentrification,

our families, and our communities who have chewed us up and spit us up

and now call us "outcasts".

For once try to comprehend our pain, happiness, sadness, and our joy.

Please don't judge us, next time don't think we’re lazy, stinky, nasty, or just bums.

Because you just might be wrong about your assumptions.

by Staff Writer

A Dreaming Dreams So Surreal

To majestically climb to the tops

The peaks of humanity,

Like mountain tops

Shrouded in dark clouds

To put some fiery, sizzling hot compassion

within inhuman natures

with my dynamic words

Into their bleak selfish worldly existence

Surrounding their Spiritual Beings

With the glory of Starlight

That no longer shine

On their High Towering Wealth!

Starlight Shimmering

To convey, There is more than Plenty

For some to not have Any!

Land, Food, Water for all Humanity

If not for Destruction and Greed

Taught from the cradle

At Ma and Pop’s knee

Who set themselves up as Tyrants and Kings!

Universal Poverty is the root of all Evil!

Not Gold!

The One with the biggest stick,

Will always use Brute Force!

Therefore, to Create a Paper Fist

With Powerful Words

Is My Soul’s Journey!

by Joe Bolden

A light drizzle comes down on a gray misty, near cloudless sunless day, Monday, Jan. 21, 2002 - Martin Luther King's Birthday/Holiday.

(When I get the assignment from POOR Magazine to march with the parade on MLK day, I get a knee-jerk feeling of working on a holiday especially his, I don't like it).

Doesn't set right being that it is a legal holiday and wouldn't Brother Martin want me free enough to do what I want to even if it means honoring his sacrifice by enjoying the day?

You see, I planned to do nothing today, as my personal form of freedom, celebrating the Honorable Reverend Martin Luther King's holiday. I'm told one march is to begin at Powell Street going down Market Street ending at the Bill Graham Auditorium.

I am given one disposable PO’ color camera with a flash and along with my trusty tape recorder, I begin the MLK assignment…

I overhear, "A neighbor told me it was supposed to rain last night." I think, ok, rain will happen sometime today, that's just ducky. White sky, gray sad clouds and chilly with a little wind thrown in.

[Oh, yeah, I'm 'lovin this 'walkin in a soon-to-be rainy, protest, rally there's nothing better that to jumpstart my day.]

I'm also supposed to be one the folks representin’ POOR Magazine/ PNN with, complete with signage, both covering and being part of the news..

By 11:11 am. I'm in my SRO's community kitchen looking out of a large picture window onto Market Street in San Francisco. The wet red brick, black tar and white crosswalk has a few people walking but not much is going on. By 11:13 am its time to check out Powell Street.

Powell Street is nearly bone dry of people, no march/ protest gathering here. I don't want to walk to 3rd Street for the San Francisco Labor Council, AFL-CIO but I guess I must!

At Yerba Buena or 3rd. Street I see a multitude of people waiting patiently in line as organizers from Glide Memorial Church, Local Warehouse(ILWU) members, and other both familiar and unfamiliar folks. I check the mixed crowds of old and young people some with signs, some not, a few shivering.

I am still unable to find any other POOR Magazine folks out and about. (I excuse my editor, Tiny, as I know she is sick, otherwise she'd be here, she is one of the most dedicated marchers I have ever seen). A green Banner in yellow letters reads Junior ROTC San Francisco Leadership Excellence. Full of now and future activist youth, so culturally diverse, though mostly Asian and Pacific Islanders, I'll only say a rainbow of nations stood there.

There's always a few false starts before any march begins in earnest; Nervousness, tensions, trembling from excitement, fear, wind, rain, and cold or a combination of all of this. Especially at this time post September 11, 2001 - Ashcroft, Dick Cheney, Enron, and all that other stuff, I guess it all comes to a head and this is one of the days reminding us that there was a different life-time and we can get back to it.

I interview one person who's part of Glide Memorial Church, but I wasn't able to get his name. So I call him "The Glide Man" (TGM) he is a tall black man wearing a yellow band over an orange traffic vest.

"Are you part of this right here? I ask him, "I'm Joseph, of POOR Magazine"

(TGM)"We're trying to keep to one side, you-know so people can walk through."

"Ok, in what capacity are you in?"

"I'm with Glide."

"Glide Memorial?"

"Glide Memorial, yes."

I see you’re wearing a red and yellow 'kind of knit patch..."

"This is a vest-Identification vest."

"I will take one picture of you."

"I won't be smiling in this weather."

I certainly understood that. After snapping a close up of the man I thanked him before moving on, I didn't get his name because of other loud voices in the crowd.

Everything is orderly and controlled thanks to people like the Glide Man overseeing the march along with another group in the same capacity.

11:38 People are calm as more people late to the King march get in line and other people spontaneously join in.

I crisscross between Yerba Buena Center and San Francisco Museum of Modern Art trying to find where best to begin shooting film.

At this point I have given up being part of the Martin Luther King Birthday/Celebration March because I couldn't take shots and be a part of it. It feels too much like practicing astro project- tion being in-out of bed confusing the self until the subtle second body frees itself.

One more person I run into is someone campaigning for Mr. Steve Phillips (D) who's running for the 13th Assembly District.

We exchanged information - that is, he gave me the orange paper with e-mail on the bottom and I give my PM card with my info on it. And again though I took a picture there is no name. This is precisely why reporting and I go like drinking battery acid. The March did began so did the rain as people and I marched up to and on Market Street.

Its a slow, sloggy, liquidy, joyous occasion as cars, trucks, busses honked, children in strollers protected in their plastic canopy, toddlers walking or carried by parents and every age walking in the rain shouting songs, rhetoric, call-back lines.
And as the rain became a downpour and the sky grayer it only boosted our spirits more. Ok, not every spirit as I passed by my cosy, warm, apartment building.

My end of the March ends at the Bill Graham Auditorium with three Muni buses waiting for the Freedom Rider's to Sacramento and Maybe Washington. Well, I again missed a free serving or two at Saint Anthony's but sometimes one must serve a higher cause - this was mine.

Martin Luther King's Dream will come true because there are too many people, Spiritual son's and daughter's if you will, that will not give up on this country, until it lives up to everyone of MLK’s ideals…

As I carry my soggy body back to the POOR Magazine office to file my report, I decide that Brother Martin probably would’ve wanted me out here – even today.