With the dismantling of Tent City in favor of a new homeless assistance center, Arnold Abbott's task of feeding the needy just got that much more difficult. And it's no picnic for the homeless, either.
After spending more than six years delivering hot meals to homeless men and women at Fort Lauderdale's infamous Tent City, Arnold Abbott soon will be out on the streets.
If the city follows through with its current plans, by Monday (February 15) the tents that have graced a parking lot across form City Hall since 1993 will be gone and there will no longer be one central location for homeless men and women to congregate.
"I am desperate," Arnold said last week while contemplating the future of his feeding program. "I don't want people to be harassed. I don't want to be arrested."
But the 74-year-old says he may not have a choice.
Like many human service workers, the founder of Love Thy Neighbor applauds last week's opening of the $9.4 million H. Wayne Huizenga Homeless Assistance Center on Sunrise Boulevard. But, like other human service workers, he knows the 200-bed shelter won't be able to serve the estimated 5,000 to 6,500 people in the county who don't have the money or the wherewithal to put a roof over their heads.
While many would hope that with the opening of the shelter, all of the homeless people would somehow magically disappear, that simply isn't going to happen, Abbott and others agree.
Even if all of the roughly 250 to 300 people who live in the tent were willing to take advantage of the free cots and regular meals
offered at the center and agree to follow its strict rules and regulations, there's one overriding problem: There simply aren't enough beds.
"The HAC can't serve everyone," says Janet Riley, an attorney with Legal Aid Services of Broward County. "There are still going to be homeless people on the streets."
And the big question, now that Tent City is all but history, is what is going to happen to them?
To Abbott and Riley, the outlook isn't good. For months, Abbott says city officials have ignored his requests to help him find a place where he could continue to feed the homeless once the tents come down. Most recently, he has suggested that he be allowed to feed the homeless at a largely unused park-and-ride lot west of I-95 off Broward Boulevard.
County officials who oversee the newly opened homeless shelter say they would be willing to help Abbott deal with officials from the Florida Department of Transportation who control the lot. But Steve Werthman, the county's homeless program coordinator, says Abbott must first get city officials to give him the go-ahead to establish such a feeding program.
But with city officials such as Mayor Jim Naugle insisting that Abbott does nothing more than keep people's stomachs full so they will never hit bottom and seek help, such approvals are unlikely to be forthcoming any time soon.
"So," Riley asks, "what are we going to do? Starve them into submission?"
Or worse.
Abbott and Riley worry that by ignoring the gross inadequacies of the shelter to serve the needs of the county's burgeoning homeless population Homelessness by the numbers that history will repeat itself.
As happened before the tents were erected six years ago, they fear that homeless people will be harassed and jailed.
While city police are now enrolling in Homeless 101 classes and exhibit a new understanding of the plight of the poor, activists like Riley and Abbott fear that the pressure from the business community to rid the area of the unwashed masses will eventually outweigh that newfound sensitivity.
Riley is particularly bothered by the Downtown Development Authority's announced plan to pay for four additional police officers to patrol the riverfront business area. It's doubtful, she says, that the downtown business group is paying the police officers to meet and greet those who no longer eben have a plastic tarpaulin over their heads.
"My fear is that the downtown business community believes the HAC will solve their problems and when it becomes clear that it doesn't, homeless people are going to be harassed," she says.
Abbott fears that by refusing to allow him to feed the homeless, the downtown community's worst fears may come true. Unless steps are taken to address the basic needs of those who will continue to live on the streets, it could get ugly.
"They will survive, they will eat by stealing, robbing and grabbing purses," he says. "Without Love Thy Neighbor and other groups who love the unloved, they will do what desperate people do and a period of lawlessness will result."
Police say they will deal harshly with criminal behavior. But they say, the days of arresting people merely for being homeless are over.
According to the new city policy, homeless people are only to be arrested as a last resort. If an officer encounters a homeless person who is breaking a minor law by sleeping in a city park or on the beach or is seen urinating or drinking in public, he or she is first to be told that there are agencies available to help them. Homeless people are to be offered transportation to the shelter. If they refuse, only then will an arrest be considered, says District Commander Robert Pusins, who authored the policy.
As humanitarian as that policy sounds, there are practical considerations, Riley says. What if no beds are available at the shelter? What if a homeless person who is taken to the shelter leaves and is found sleeping on the beach again? What if the person is ordered out of the shelter and told not to come back?
Pusins readily admits that some of the details of the policy have yet to be worked out. But, he says, if an officer repeatedly
confronts the same homeless person on the street again and again, he or she will be arrested.
"If we find someone we've dealt with three nights in a row, the next time we encounter him, he's not going to be offered the option [of going to the shelter]. He will be arrested," Pusins says.
However, he says, he is hopeful that officers won't have to face the problem that no beds are available. Trying to hasten the dismantling of the tent, county officials began contacting agencies and asking them to offer beds to residents of Tent City.
A total of 400 beds have been located, Werthman says. While acknowledging that "the system is stretched to its limits," he too says that it appears enough beds are available to serve
those who have been living at Tent City.
Riley and others, however, question how all of a sudden beds are available when for years there were nowhere near enough. And, they point out, according to a settlement in a landmark Miami case, police are prohibited from arresting homeless people if no shelter is available.
Pusins admits the city's plan to arrest those who refuse to go to the shelter could collapse if beds aren't available. "Hopefully they'll be able to keep moving people in and out as appropriate," he says. "Once it is full, I would imagine we may have to have a suspension of the park rules, but that's just off the top of my head. We haven't addressed that."
And those not-yet-addressed issues worry homeless people and their adversaries. Richard Courtney, who has lived at the tent for four years, filed suit asking a judge to stop the city from closing the tent until a firm policy is in place. The recently drafted policy lacks specificity, Courtney says. He is negotiating with city officials to firm up weak spots that he feels will cost him and other homeless men a night or more in jail. If negotiations fail, he says he will go to court.
Riley and officials at the American Civil Liberties Union says Courtney's suit may not be the last. They say they'll be watching police actions closely. If people are arrested for merely being homeless, they say, a lawsuit may result.
"They're taking a serious legal risk if they arrest homeless people for conducting life-sustaining activities," says Andrew Kayton, of the Miami ACLU office. "If the shelter is not a magic solution, then they can't wave their magic wand at the homeless and say 'OK, disappear.'"
That, Abbott insists, is just what he fears city officials are trying to do. Unfortunately, he says, there is no magic wand and the homeless will continue to wander the streets.
Ideally, he'd like a place to be established where homeless people can go for the night without fear of being arrested. But his immediate goal is much more simple. He merely wants to feed people in hopes of keeping them from turning to crime to survive.
"I'm just looking at it from a humanitarian point of view," he says.
But, he says, if backed into the corner, he's not going to just fold up his tent and go away. Having failed to get city officials' attention through bureaucratic channels, he may have to try to try a more direct tack.
"At this point, I guess I'm looking for a confrontation," he says. "If I have to get arrested for feeding the homeless, I will."