43. AN ACCEPTABLE RATE
According to Stephanie Cowles at Project Renewal, “the mortality rate is actually pretty astonishing. We have calculated that out of thirty tunnel people, four, perhaps even more, died within twelve years of moving out. That is a death rate close to 15 percent, however, not uncommon in the homeless population. These people have every illness imaginable. For years, they have gone without a doctor; they have not seen a dentist.”
Cowles had coordinated the tunnel project and supervised Dov Waisman. “Poor Dov,” Cowles looks back with a smile. “He was fresh out of college, law and philosophy at Harvard, and then they gave him this impossible job. But he gave all he had.”
Cowles is reasonably positive about the results of the housing program. “We are realistic and have learnt from experience. It’s considered an acceptable rate when 20 percent of former homeless who receive housing are back on the streets within a year.” An organization such as Pathways has comparable statistics. Cowles points out that there is a difference in success rate between homeless people from the streets versus the shelters. The street homeless fare much better. “They have more adaptive skills than the shelter homeless who seem to have developed a more dependent attitude.” In outreach lingo, these skills are called “ADLs”: Activities of Daily Living, such as getting food, setting up some form of housing, cooking a meal. Of course, most tunnel people had created a relatively sophisticated environment when compared with street or shelter people.
“We are happy we could clear the people out of a dangerous situation,” Cowles concludes about the tunnel. “But we are disappointed we could not give them more assistance once they were in housing. Some of them needed a complete support team: a case manager, a doctor, a nurse, an occupational therapist.”
Public relations man Richard Rubel is quite lyrical when I call him at the Amtrak offices where he still works. He is very happy about the way the whole process worked out, from providing housing to the tunnel dwellers, to the final cleaning up and closing off operation. “In fact, it was a beautiful ending. But I have to say: without the personal contacts of Marc and Margaret, we could not have succeeded.”
Dov moved back to Los Angeles where he is originally from, and is now a law school Professor. “It frankly does not surprise me that some died, but it is really heartening to hear that most of them are still in their housing and doing fine,” Dov tells me over the phone. “The biggest challenge was getting them to decide if they wanted to live in an apartment or if they wanted to continue staying in the streets.” Dov explains they had found a place for Dee, the tough-talking black woman, on Staten Island. ‘“I am not gonna take it,’ was her first reaction. Three days later, I got a call from her. She was ready to accept it. Other people were skeptical about the process. Some, like Bernard, were very attached to the independence they had in the tunnels. For him, the tunnel had become part of his identity.”
That the tunnel people were not exactly model citizens was another big hurdle. “What do you do with people that have serious afflictions that got them on the streets in the first place?” Dov asks rhetorically. “We had to do a follow up. But what can you do if they don’t show up at the detox program, if they start doing drugs again? You can’t take the key from their apartments away.”
Dov confirms Margaret’s story about Estoban. “Getting all his legal papers was a nightmare. Waiting at the INS, at that time the Immigration and Naturalization Services, and being told off again, he ripped up the only identity paper he had. That was the end of the story.” Dov is sad to hear Hugo did not make it. “His English was perfect and he helped me a lot translating for the other Hispanics. I can remember visiting him for the first time in his new apartment in East Harlem, and he saying in his mellow, laid back way ‘Hey man, thanks man….’”
44. ’TIS WHAT IT IS
Marc, Ment and I sit down on a few cinder blocks at Bernard’s destroyed camp. Back then, we would have lit a cigarette, but all of us have stopped smoking. The Third of May is still intact but slowly decaying, as are most of the other pieces done by Chris Pape. Next to Pape’s piece with Bob’s and Bernard’s portraits, he has spray painted the following words: “In December 1995 The Forgotten Men of the Tunnel Received City Housing. They’ve Just Begun to Move. Freedom 1995.” The phone rings. It is Bernard. He tells me he left the tunnel at an open gate a few block up at Marcus’ old cave. Bernard had to go home to make breakfast for his father. We were worried that he had left us because he was overwhelmed by emotion. I ask Bernard if it was not too hard for him to see his camp torn down. Bernard laughs. “Don’t worry, it was not a shock for me. I was down there when they demolished it. Hey, man, what can I say? ’TIS what it is. That’s all I can say.”
APPENDIX: A LETTER FROM JOE
PHOTOGRAPHS
