Rubel shows me confidential papers. It is Amtrak’s three million dollar budget to clean up the tunnels, now definitively approved by the Board of Directors. Three hundred thousand has been set apart to remove all garbage and demolish shacks, bunkers, and other constructions. One hundred and fifty thousand has been set apart to put up new fences. One million is for police protection during the clean-up operation. The operation will start next spring. Amtrak expect that most tunnel dwellers will be in alternative housing by then.
“The lawsuit of the Coalition was a first-rate public relations disaster.” Captain Bryan Henry explains Amtrak’s new approach. “Homelessness is not illegal and even bums have human rights. You can’t billy club them out of the stations. You just don’t do that…”
I congratulate Bryan Henry on his promotion and mention the demotion of Sergeant Combs. Henry tries to hide his smile behind his hand, but soon bursts out laughing. A colleague has to calm him down. The last time I heard a police captain laugh so loud, it was when Captains Combs told me she wanted her movie role played by Whitney Houston.
“Listen,” Henry says, now serious again. “Not only Amtrak, but also the government wants to bring the tunnels under control. The World Trade Center, Oklahoma City, everybody is scared of new terrorist attacks.”
Unlike last summer, Mike Harris from the Coalition is once again optimistic about the process. Five tunnel people have already left. Frankie and Ment are the first ones. To make it less complicated, José is counted in as well. Four and five are the twins. They got their vouchers and found a place in the Bronx.
The twins are identical black brothers, originally from Georgia. They lived in a little shack near Julio, but I hardly got to know them because they were always outside working together. They were not particularly smart or educated, but since they did not have severe drinking or drug problems, and were confident in the housing procedure, it went smoothly. Mike tells me that all the others either have vouchers or will get them any moment. A few will be moving this weekend; the coalition has temporarily stored their personal belongings. “A few tunnel people have an understandable fear of starting a new life,” Mike says, “But most are smart and intelligent people. We are confident they will manage above ground.” Things got slowed down because of DC, Mike says. Most federal institutions were not functioning for weeks due to a budget conflict between Clinton and Congress. Money flow came to a stand still and all government workers were sent home for a month. Also, it looked like budget cuts would stop the voucher program.
“It’s simple,” Mike says confidently. “Our aim is no more people in the tunnel. Whatever will happen, we will accomplish our mission.”
38. THE ADVENTURES OF FRANKIE, PART 9: OUT OF THE TUNNEL
“Me and Ment, we don’t talk no more,” Frankie says. “And next time I see him, I’ll put a gun in his face. To pay back what he pulled on me all these years. I tell you, Ant, it took me five years to get at that point.”
Frankie is, as he calls it, ‘stayin’ out down low.’ He went underground temporarily at a friend’s place on the 27th story of a depressing apartment building in Hell’s Kitchen. I visit him there in a small room he is sharing with a friend. In the meantime, Frankie has his voucher, and next week he’ll look for a place in Brooklyn.
What exactly happened remains unclear. Marc partially confirmed Joe’s story, but also told me other details. Taking revenge, the ripped-off gang smashed the interior of Frankie’s home. Frankie fled the tunnel and could take shelter at a friend’s place. Ment stayed with Fatima and the baby who had been taken back from the aunt in New Jersey.
But they didn’t have much choice. Not only was the Puerto Rican gang still a threat, Ment was also wanted by the police. Still on probation, Ment never kept his appointments with his parole officer.
The three of them took the Greyhound bus to Oregon, where Ment has a cousin. Marc paid for the tickets. Now Ment is working on one of the boats, fishing off the coast of Canada and Alaska for cod and salmon. It’s hard but well paid work. To keep other people from living in their place, Frankie and Ment tore it down together.
Frankie tells me another version. There was a fight about money. “Ment had already borrowed two hundred bucks to score some smack. He’s a filthy junkie. Then he had to borrow another fifty to fuck Fatima in peace in some motel. I refused. Ment smashed the TV. Damn it, a brand new wide screen I had found on the street.”
“A perfect couple together,” Frankie sneers. “Fatima is a whore. Never worked in her life. And Ment will spend half his life in jail.” After two earlier convictions, assault and armed robbery, Ment only needs to pull one stupid thing and he’ll be behind bars for at least twenty years, thanks to the new three strikes legislation.
The fight gave Frankie the final motive to finish with tunnel life. “I don’t even come to the neighborhood any more,” he says bitterly. “I don’t want to see those bums anymore. But I still have to settle a score with Joe. And Greg, I still owe him a bullet.”
Greg was a black man who lived in a tent halfway to the South End. He moved out to go into rehab, but got on crack again and moved back into the tunnel. When Greg freaked out, he always tore the electricity cables, so Frankie was plunged into darkness.
“Damn,” Frankie continues. “If I see people canning now…I can’t imagine that I used to do that, too. Now I take a shower when I want, I put on clean clothes, and the girls, they see it…” Frankie grins. He says he now has five girlfriends at once. He kicked Maria out, but Vanessa returned.
Once living in Brooklyn, he’s going to get off welfare and look for work. “I want to be a productive citizen,” Frankie declares solemnly. “You know, have a job, pay taxes, raise kids. I tell you, no mo’ of that gangsta shit.”
39. MURDER FOR THE GARBAGE
Tony’s got his grayish, wrinkled winter skin back. He is still addicted to gambling and has no plans to leave the tunnel. “Tony thinks the tunnel is forever,” Bernard says.
Jeff still stops by once in a while. The last time he came, he set fire to Tony’s storage space under the emergency stairs. Scorched toasted teddy bears and ashes of charred porn magazines are now rotting in a mud puddle formed by melting snow.
When I see Tony at the grill, he is talking some unintelligible macho talk about cooking up heroin and nine millimeters. It seems like his mental capacities have deserted him. Then he leaves to watch TV at his sister. His merrily decorated shopping cart has been taken by the park police and put outside with the garbage.
Marcus is packing to spend the winter with the Rainbow People in Florida. He’s already taken the necessary precautions in case he doesn’t find his cave upon his return. Most of his valuable books are stored with friends. He doesn’t care much about his other belongings.
“The refugees from Bosnia and Rwanda also lost everything, and they also go on with their life,” Marcus says stoically. “It’s all in the mind, tu sais.”
The Coalition and Project Renewal came knocking on his cave a few times to offer vouchers, but Marcus does not like ‘free government handouts.’ “They were really pushing me. I don’t understand. I asked them if they got a commission on every accepted voucher.”