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FYI: Palo Alto and Menlo Park police cleared out a camp of about 15 people from under a bridge Oct. 7 after giving notice that it was illegal to camp there. Home, home on the roadSLO Countys homeless guerrilla campers make the most of living out of their cars, vans, and mini-RVsBY DANIEL BLACKBURN AND CHRISTOPHER GARDNER Crystal glances over her shoulder a lot, if just to satisfy herself that all is right ... for the moment. Anxiety, uncertainty, a twinge of fear, and a vague feeling of failure taint her emotions. A nagging notion persists that something is about to happen, and it might not be good. Such is the everyday living of a woman on wheels. For many people, home is where the heart is. For Crystal and others like her, home is wherever her battered compact car can rest without being rousted by the law. Shes 27, fled an abusive relationship, and constantly misses her three youngsters now living with a relative. She is unemployed and has no education. What little hope she has is centered on "staying alive and getting a job." Crystalthe only handle shell sharebelongs to part of a surprisingly large, and some say growing, cadre of people without permanent addresses, wanderers without set borders. They occupy a unique niche amid the homeless, perhaps better off than that vagabond tent-dweller camped near the creek bed, but facing nevertheless a troubling future. They exist on the extreme edge of San Luis Obispos deepening housing crisis. Many have jobs, children, pets, potted plants, vehicles. Most have income, albeit limited. All share the downside of their common plight: an emotional insecurity nurtured by the transience of their lives. * * * Kammie and Ken have five children aged 1-14, and lived in a tent for more than five months. Today, through the generosity of a friend, they have a trailer roof over their head. Kens daily job is driving a janitorial-supply delivery truck. His daily avocation is an unswerving faith. "All my trust is in God," Ken said recently. "He will not let His children do without." Kens own kids arent so sure about that. "They were pretty upset at the start. They couldnt understand how this could happen," Ken said. "Its tough for them now, too. They cant just have their friends staying overnight, you know." Ken and Kammie came upon their present circumstances partly because of "help" from well-meaning people. They were living in a decrepit rental house with a leaky roof and a host of other maintenance problems that Ken said the landlord refused to fix. Termites often would fall on the kitchen table during meals. Despite the houses condition, the couple was running a state-licensed child-care service, a circumstance that sharpened the need for residential repairs. After Ken polled various public and private social and legal organizations for assistance, he was advised that he could withhold rent money if required repairs were ignored by the house owner. County inspectors found 27 code violations, ranging from structural to electrical problems. Kens strategy resulted in the familys eventual eviction from the house, and they traded moldy walls for no walls. "Im lucky to have a good job," he said, talking on a cell phone to a reporter as he made his deliveries. He said he works 60 hours a week. The family, in the shadowy manner of transient counterparts, moves along as often as necessary, their movements dictated by the mood of passing police officers. They will park in a campground here, on an industrial street therewherever a moments peace of mind can be found. "My son is 14, and this situation has made him grow up," said Ken. "And maybe a little too fast. Hes not living the life of other kids. I wish he had some kind of social life. But we are staying involved in church affairs, so in some ways, things are normal." * * * Dee Torres manages the Prado Day Center at 43 Prado Road in San Luis Obispo. Over the past several years, Torres has seen a steady increase in what she calls "the working poor." "There are a lot more families out there, the people who cant afford the price of housing but must stay for a variety of reasons," she said. School, jobs, family ... there are any number of situations that anchor people to this county despite the lack of a stationary roof over their heads. "We provide the core services," said Torres. "That includes showers, laundry, hot lunches, finding housing, and getting credit straightened out. We try to do everything, from head to toe, if people want help." A key part of the assistance provided by Prado is jobs and medical care. "Once people fall out of housing, its very hard to get back in," she said. "If we dont do something about bringing in more affordable housing, we will be seeing a steady increase in homelessness." * * * Biscuit the pit-bull puppy watches quietly as his human companion, Jim, talks to a newspaper photographer. Biscuit doesnt worry about Jims circumstances, knowing only that food, water, and kindness are quite forthcoming. As he talks, 51-year-old Jim, an Army veteran, watches the flickering images of a small black-and-white television plugged into the cigarette lighter of his new, leased truck. Its World Series time, and for the moment Jim keeps track of the first games progress before switching to an old war movie. Theres a camper shell on the truck, containing a mattress and a clever propane cooking system. This is what Jim calls home. He receives veterans benefits of about $800 monthly. The truck payment of $300 every month is what Jim considers to be the cost of his rent. A Salinas native, Jim is the son of migrant farm-worker parents from Oklahoma. He spent five years in the military, three of which were spent training recruits in Panama. Hes close to being able to afford a regular house in a less-expensive area, but he prefers a frugal life with freedom. * * * A job with the California Conservation Corps brought 23-year-old Dave Newton to this county, into a decidedly warmer climate than his native Reno. He now attends Cuesta College, works full-time at a patio store, and lives in the back of his dented and scratched 1990 Dodge van. Roomy by comparison to the mobile abodes of his ever-changing neighbors, Newtons Dodge contains a comfortable sleeping area and a small stove, where he sometimes cooks his dinner. "I havent been hassled," he said, "because Im not boozing or using drugs. I dont park in front of peoples houses." Newton moves every five days, staying a step ahead of move-along orders. "I respect peoples property," he said. "Some parkers leave their bottles and trash in the streets, and that causes problems." Newton probably wouldnt be in this high-rent area if it werent for school obligations. "I went to look at a room in a house and it was $800 a month, with required first and last months rent and a deposit." Newton decided hed stay on the mean streets for the time being. * * * Sgt. John Giese of the San Luis Obispo Sheriffs Department is familiar with the new breed of homeless. He used to be assigned to the Oceano area, where residents have complained recently about a high number of "campers." There is no county ordinance regarding vehicle camping, he said. "Without such an ordinance, there isnt much we can do. We generally get involved if there are complaints about criminal behavior, or noise or sanitation problems," he said. "But with these people, frankly, there is not much criminal activity." Several-dozen Oceano residents recently met to discuss the local situation with county supervisors and sheriffs deputies, said Geise. "There are a lot of campers in the area, but again, theres not a whole lot we can do." * * * Tove Forte said she is a typical mother, and displayed proudly the school photos of her three youngsters. Every day, she gets her kids off to school, takes care of the family dog, cooks meals, does the laundry, and decides where the family will spend the night. Forte and the children, ages 14, 12, and 10, spend most nights in their 1987 Chevy van, but sometimes find a place at a church shelter. A year ago, an alcoholic boyfriend booted her and the kids from the house in which they had been living. It was Thanksgiving week, and the mother had no place to go. Shes working with people at Prado Day Center to get on her feet, she said, and recently qualified for Section 8 housing. "Now all I need is to find a place that will accept my family and dog," she said. "Im trying to do the best I can for my kids." * * * "Jeff" considers himself to be at "one extreme end of the spectrum" of people without houses. Jeff, in his mid-40s, manages a pair of farmers markets and works for two municipalities handling visitor-center duties. He lives in a small motor home, "claustrophobic" by some standards, he said, but containing all the amenities of home. "I have indoor plumbing, a home entertainment center, a ghetto blaster, laptop computer, a cell phone, and a portable recording studio," he said. "Its not an extravagant lifestyle. Its comfortable." Most nights, he goes to sleep to the sound of the ocean, with his vehicle parkedas he likes to say"under the moonlit sky." He calls this "guerrilla camping," and it has for him only a few downsides. "Sometimes you get rousted by the sheriff, but thats to be expected," he said. "This may be the land of the free. But along the California coast, there are very few places to park." Also, life can be a bit trying if "a vehicle breaks down and a person has only 25 bucks in his pocket." "But I am a great source of joy to my nephews," he added. "They think its wonderful that I dont live like most other people." Æ
News editor Daniel Blackburn can be reached at [email protected]. Photographer Christopher Gardner can be reached at [email protected]. |