The Perils of Being an Urban Pioneer

Warning:
Diatribe Ahead


So, I'm a slacker when it comes to our neighbourhood meetings, but #1 I don't like meetings and #2 it starts at 7 PM and because nobody knows how to hold a meeting, the thing can go on for hours. I handled it pretty well Monday night, considering my moral and ethical belief system was all but assaulted by this Capitalist, Bush-lovin' slug...

Perhaps some background before the verbal assaults begin:

If you don't already know, Atlanta has no mass transit system. Well, we have M.A.R.T.A. which stands for Metro Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority.

----Heee, let's see if my Mum really reads my blog:

Want to know what I found out the other day? Old time Rednecks think MARTA stands for... "Moving Africans Rapidly Through Atlanta". Damn!


Anyway, MARTA doesn’t go anywhere you need to go. It simply runs a north-south, east-west route with a stop every 2 miles or so. Lots of good the train does you. And don’t even think of riding the bus unless you carry a handgun! So Atlanta now has an opportunity to develop this idea for light trolley and rail using rehabilitated existing rail lines connecting them with parks, neighbourhoods, tourist areas, etc. It is something that I am eagerly backing because it really will bring Atlanta into that "International Spotlight" that it’s been craving since 1996. You can see more about it at http://www.beltlinepartnership.org.

Along with the light rail, there are propositions to have more greenspace added around the rail. Atlanta has the least amount of greenspace of all the cities in the country the same size or larger, so for us tree-huggin’, Socialist-types, green is good. However, as I was reminded Monday night, some people think that since green places don’t generate revenue, they are not worth the effort.

That being said, a parallel project has been initiated by our very, very enthusiastic neighbourhood president (who we will call “Dippy”) and her completely annoying partner in crime, who happens to be a Capitalist, elitist (or is that redundant?) architect/developer (who we will call Rupert). They have come up with something called the Chosewood Park Development Corporation. Dippy, of course, has elected herself as the “Interim Director” of this little ditty. These two, along with some students in Rupert’s class at GT, have come up with a very ambitious, almost fantasy, concept to redevelop “The Hood”.

Now, if you don’t know, Chosewood Park (aka “The ‘Hood) consists of a City of Atlanta Watershed yard, a low-income apartment complex, single-family homes, oh yeah… and the fucking projects. To add more salt to this festering wound, most of the single-family homes are owned by unscrupulous people who rent their homes out to Section 8 families and most of the other properties are owned by the City of Atlanta. Needless to say, they are mostly dilapidated, shitholes, which makes them very lucrative to the City. Most of Dippy’s project requires the City to sell most of their property and as a graduate in Environmental Development; I know this has a snowball’s chance in hell.

The City has been involved with something called the Hope VI (Empowerment Zone) program since before the Olympics in ’96. This is a federally funded program that gives money to the city to demolish very old, very unsavory housing projects and rebuild them under the tenant “Mixed-income”. This means that the property will be rebuilt with nice, attractive apartments and townhomes and those that can afford the rent/mortgage pay it, and those that can’t afford it pay what they can and the rest is subsidized by the government’s plan. Boy, I can hear the Capitalists screaming from here, but it really does work and I will tell you why. Unlike Section 8 (which I’ll blab about in a minute), the people who participate in the Mixed-income program W-A-N-T to be there. These folks are hard-working, have no criminal record, keep their homes tidy, etc. The bottom line is that good, hard-working people deserve that break or two that most people attain through no action of their own.

Do not confuse mixed-income with Section 8. Section 8 is another HUD funded program, but this one is much, much different. Section 8 folks pay what they can based on their income, then receive money from HUD to cover the rest. They can rent a house anywhere they want as long as the landlord accepts them and in Chosewood, there are lots of ‘em. See, if you have a Section 8 renter, you are almost guaranteed 70-80% of your rent even if your tenant defaults on their part. Most of the houses they rent out are crap, so what if you only get part of your rent? Chances are the landlords own the house outright because they bought them in the late ‘70s and ’80 when whitey was making the great exodus to the suburbs and property values plummeted.

Section 8 folks are, for the most part, a little different than those who qualify for Mixed-income. First, most (not all Section 8) are the “I deserve a handout because …” –type. Second, Section 8 is not enforced at all. Nobody living in a Section 8 house can have a criminal record and if anyone is arrested and convicted while living in the house, the entire family is supposed to move. This does not happen, I promise. But, again, not all folks on Section 8 fall into this category.

For example, I have two Section 8 families next to me. One family on my right another one right across the street. The family that lives to my right is headed by a very, very hardworking, strong woman. She works 9 hours a day, 6 days a week. When her derelict daughter got hooked on crack, she kicked her out of the house and took custody of her grandchildren. She never has loud parties and keeps her house clean inside and out. Best of all, she respects us as her neigbours and we reciprocate.

Then there are the pigs across the street. Hmmmmm, where do we start? Mama works (at least I think she does). She has anywhere from 8-12 people, mostly teenagers, hanging out in the front yard all day, everyday. Most of these folks are hanging in the front yard so they can sell weed and crack to those unsavories that pass through the ‘Hood. They are not in school and do not hold jobs – unless you consider selling crack a “job”. The constantly blare hip-hop music until late at night and there is always trash all over their yard, which blows into my yard. They have completely destroyed the fence that the landlord installed around the front yard and they genuinely do not give a shit about where they live or what they do. We’ve called the police on them countless times and several times some of the little shits have actually been picked up.

And they are still there. Section 8 only works for a very, very small percentage of people. Those who do not feel like they deserve a “handout” and are willing to work to earn their right to a decent home are the minority.

OK – so back to the meeting on Monday. Although this was supposed to be a meeting to discuss ‘Hood issues, Dippy and Rupert used it as a platform to promote their development plan to us. This plan, which they only asked input on after it was completed, was pitched heavily to us only after we had a presentation from a lady working for the Trust for Public Lands. The plan the TPL presented showed hundred of acres of land they wanted to purchase in order to establish more public greenspace. Some of this land is in Chosewood, but of course, it was land that Dippy and Rupert earmarked for “retail and commercial” space.

So Dippy stands up and says, “Oh what a great idea, but you can’t have any of the land in Chosewood because we have other plans.” Well, this just starts this cozy little dialogue between Dippy/Rupert and the TPL. Basically Rupert goes on his gig about how greenspace doesn’t generate revenue and jobs are what we need in our ‘Hood. I guess he means jobs like selling shoes or something because every crack dealer making ten grand a week wants to work like a dog earning minimum wage. Anyway this little dispute went on for over an hour – again because Dippy doesn’t know how to run a meeting and call for a sidebar.

Then, just to be sure to really piss me off, after the TPL leaves, Rupert takes it upon himself to begin lecturing us on how we don’t want greenspace and parks, what we really want it retail, shopping, and restaurants. What we want? He also said that the TPL has the same agenda as the Sierra Club (a group I support) and that they need to just find other land as opposed to Chosewood properties. It was about that time that I almost stood up and bitch-slapped him.

Oh, but it gets better. After all this discussion, Dippy says we need to elect officers to her new Corporation. She volunteers to be the President, which everyone but me voted “yes” and then we finished with almost all the other officers except one – and here’s the coupe de grace - Dippy says we need a Corporation Representative. What the hell this is, I haven’t a clue, but she says, “Since Rupert has done all this work on our development, I think it would be a good idea to nominate him. Well, Dippy, Rupert doesn’t live in our “Hood. He lives in a trendy, Jewish condo complex in Midtown. When someone mentions Rupert’s potential conflict of interest, he gallantly steps up and says, “I do realize my participation in this corporation could invite such arguments. After all, I do stand to make a ton of money off this development”. Those fucking idiots I call neigbours still voted him in.

We have decided that that will be the last meeting we attend. First, I have a degree in Environmental Development, which is a concept regarding developments that keep nature and the environment as the first priority – the almighty dollar ranks about 4th on the list. Second, the City isn’t going to sell their land. Third, know your audience before you attempt to grand stand all your useless, arrogant knowledge and try to force feed it down my gullet.

I had thought about telling Dippy and Rupert to stick their project somewhere darker than the shelf, but I think I’m just going to team up with the Trust for Public Land and make sure they put a park or greenspace – or whatever will fuck up Dippy’s project. – dead smack in the middle of the ‘Hood. It’s always better to play dirty.

Diatribe over.