One of the most impressive aspects of “Emergency!” was the way Beaty merged different styles of performance. Characters segued between thoughtful soliloquy, honeyed song, and slam poetry with a speed that could have been distracting, but in this case served only to further illustrate characters’ emotional states. Desperation was delivered in a low, moaning baritone. Anger streamed furiously in the rhythmic beat of spoken word poetry. Some segments were so apparently relatable that it wasn’t uncommon throughout the performance to hear an occasional whoop of affirmation issue from the back rows. Though “Emergency!’s” plot and characters are fantastic, its takeaways are real. Miraculously, all 40 characters’ viewpoints come together in the end to craft a message that spurs viewers to reconsider how they think about their history. “We can overcome,” he said, “if we change the way we see, see our past, see our possibility.”

Rachel Wiseman & Eric Fischer/flickr

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On October 25, the assembly hall of the Hyde Park Union Church was nearly empty. Of the two-dozen chairs arranged in rows before a projector screen, only six were filled. The attendees, all beyond middle age, waited expectantly.

This gathering was a preliminary informational meeting concerning a process that Chicago undergoes every decade—aldermanic ward redistricting. The sparse turnout can be seen as emblematic of the public’s obliviousness toward the issue, or, perhaps, their indifference.

Which ever it is, community activists on the South Side are trying to change it.

Mary Schaafsma from the League of Women Voters and Jocelyn Woodards of the South Side NAACP presided over the information session—a “Redistricting 101” meeting—in front of the half-dozen longtime Hyde Parkers.

A preliminary slide exhibited a polychromatic rendering of Chicago’s jigsaw puzzle of political fault lines. Although law requires wards to remain “compact and contiguous,” boundaries have been drawn to circumscribe individual blocks and avoid others. Take the 20th ward, a region that encompasses parts of Englewood, Washington Park, and Woodlawn with one winding tendril that snakes up north and then west to grab a piece of Back of the Yards.

“It looks like Medusa’s hair going in all directions,” Schaafsma observed, gesticulating broadly.

Woodards points out that, thanks to the clandestine nature of Chicago politics, “a lot of people have no idea this is even happening.”

Ward redistricting is a process that takes place in Chicago following every U.S. Census. State law requires that aldermanic ward borders be redrawn in order to ensure that each alderman represents an equally populated district. The deadline for the new map is fast approaching: aldermen must agree upon the new borders this Thursday, December 1.

In the last decade, Chicago experienced significant population loss that was exacerbated by the recession. Approximately 200,000 people left the city from 2000 to 2009, setting the population back to the same number that inhabited Chicago in 1920.

While African-Americans still make up the largest ethnic minority in Chicago, their numbers took the biggest toll, decreasing from 1,065,009 to 887,608 according to the U.S. Census Bureau. Meanwhile, the city’s Hispanic population grew by 25,000 residents.

These shifting numbers have caused aldermen in City Hall to scramble. The conflicts over space are often complicated by race. Although African-Americans suffered the largest population loss, the Black Caucus—African-American members of city council—is determined to maintain their 19 aldermanic wards. Anticipating a game of political chess, the Black Caucus decided to make the first move by submitting their own map on September 19.

The Redistricting 101 Meeting condensed all of this information into a neat, 60 minute PowerPoint—something the city hadn’t been doing. Schaafsma described her organization’s demands in a nutshell: “All we are asking is that the city engage the public, for equal representation under the law, and for basic government processes.” A bit heated, she quickly chugged two Styrofoam cups of water. “Emanuel has taken a stand-back approach, taking his cues from Daley,” she continued icily. “For example, is Englewood inherently a bad neighborhood or is it because they have six alderman and no one is paying attention?”

But people outside City Council are paying attention.

*   *   *   *

The day after Halloween the West Chesterfield Community Association held a special meeting at their headquarters in a stubby brick bungalow on 93rd and Michigan. About forty people gathered inside on cramped rows of metal folding chairs. The crowd was mixed: residents, local politicians, and representatives from community organizations. A small boy ate a Happy Meal, while leaning sleepily against his mother.

West Chesterfield Community Association President Michael LaFargue began the meeting by saying, “We’re all working together because we’re in this together.”

The West Chesterfield residents in attendance are proud of their traditionally strong voter turn-out and enjoy being grouped in the sixth ward with the comparatively stable Chatham community. In other words, the residents don’t want the neighborhood to be tainted with the problems of the neighboring wards. LaFargue gestures to the Black Caucus map proposal, with West Chesterfield resting in an expanded ninth ward. “That’s a very large ward, how can anyone handle that? …We’re going to fight this thing.”

LaFargue introduced Jocelyn Woodards to the crowd, who a week before had assisted in the Hyde Park meeting. Woodards took to the lectern dressed in a lime green suit coat. Behind Woodards, a Holy Bible and a three volume tome entitled Black America rested on a mantelpiece before a wall plastered in large posters with anti-redistricting slogans. Woodards began, “They [the city council] are claiming we lost 200,000 people. Who were they and where did they go?”

“Black people,” the crowd murmured unanimously.

“And what does that mean for us?” Woodards inquired.

“Less representation,” was the resounding reply.

“It’s time for us to get it together and ensure we have the best representation possible.” Woodards’s statement was met with applause and amens.

In an open discussion that followed, audience members voiced suspicion, confusion, and even outright anger at the proposal to move West Chesterfield from the sixth to the ninth ward. The room, heated with bodies and emotion, caused someone to yank the cord of a ceiling fan.

“We need to make sure we maintain the integrity of the community,” an audience member affirmed. “That is what’s wrong with Englewood. It’s like many cooks have spoiled the broth. We don’t want four or five or six aldermanic districts in the community.”

One woman said frankly, “It’s like a slap in the face because we’re subjected to people we didn’t vote for.” The crowd stirred in agreement.

Their suspicion is not unwarranted. While wards have given ethnic groups access to political power and city resources, Chicago has seen politicians resort to gerrymandering—drawing political borders for private political gain—to expand their clout in the city. Redistricting becomes a game that is less about representation and more about maintaining office by lassoing pockets of community areas that will guarantee an alderman’s reelection—historically, districts containing fewer residents with college degrees and which usually have low voter turnout rates. The 14th ward, for example, a predominately Latino community where fewer than one in ten people have graduated from college, has had the same alderman since 1969.

Following the meeting, guests chatted and posed for pictures holding 8-by-10-inch printer paper reading, “We Oppose West Chesterfield Redistricting.” Resident Shirley Adams rose from her folding chair. Putting on her winter coat, she explained she attended the meeting “just to be briefed on what is going on and how much progress is being made.” For Adams, the intentions of the community are clear—“we want to stay in the 6th ward.”

But West Chesterfield isn’t the only neighborhood on alert. A blue leaflet has been circulated around Englewood promoting another redistricting meeting. On the pamphlet reads the following challenge: “You say we are never informed of what is going on in our communities before it happens, well, Resident Matters is trying to change that! Now the rest is up to you!”

*   *   *   *

“I was taught a sign of a good compromise is that everybody walks out of the room mad,” said Fredrenna Lyle at the meeting in the Englewood branch of the Chicago Police Department on November 2.

Lyle—a lawyer who lost her third reelection campaign for Alderman of the 6th ward this spring—defended the Black Caucus proposal. After dividing up their wards legally and with the aid of a professional cartographer from Lansing, Michigan, the Black Caucus let a computer program draw the remaining wards.

Although she explained the Black Caucus’s position logically—one based on sheer legality—a distinct “us versus them” tone permeated her argument, particularly against the Latino Caucus. “They can come up with anything they want. We even gave them an extra ward. This whole thing is a blank canvas in terms where they can go.”

Lyle addressed the lack of congruity in Englewood—a neighborhood fractured into six aldermanic wards: “Englewood is the biggest change [on our map]. It’s about consolidating. The map we’ve drawn reduced the current six aldermen by one. We couldn’t reduce it ten years ago. Your aldermen loved you so much they didn’t want to leave!” In response, the audience laughed wryly.

“Change is scary,” Lyle admitted. “It’s understandable, but we are trying to maximize African-American representation without stepping or trampling on any other groups’ wards.”

She emphasized that the Black Caucus map was not an incumbency plan and blamed the media for propagating such a message. “Not all the alderman [of the Black Caucus] even agreed on this map…We didn’t want individual interest to supersede the interest of the African-American community.” Everyone, she stressed, had to make sacrifices, even if it meant drawing up less-than-ideal ward boundaries to satisfy legal requirements. “You [the aldermen] can have x,y, and z in la-la-land, but in the real world this is what we were dealt.”

“So,” she concluded, “if you can draw a better map, bring it in.”

On November 10, The Latino Caucus attempted just that.

This version included four more majority-Hispanic wards. One new ward on the southwest side would sweep up isolated Latino areas in the 3rd, 15th, 16th, 18th and 20th wards, all of which currently have a black majority. Ricardo Muñoz, 22nd ward alderman, told the Chicago Sun-Times, “If we’re one-third of the city, why are we one-fifth of the City Council? It’s not that we deserve it. That’s the law.”

Chicago’s Asian community is voicing similar concerns. Although the Asian population has expanded 40 percent in the past decade and is the fastest growing minority in Chicago, Asian populations in Chinatown and Bridgeport have never seen an Asian alderman. According to the Asian American Institute, “this lack of government representation is unacceptable…The Asian American community will organize itself…in a call for the importance of promoting transparency and public participation in the redistricting process.”

After being badgered by the public, 33rd ward alderman Richard Mell issued a public notice announcing six public hearings on the City of Chicago redistricting process. This got the City Council’s stamp of approval on October 31. The first meeting was held on November 2, giving community members only one day to mobilize and only three weeks until the actual vote.

The process to approve a new map can be murky and prolonged. Each alderman goes individually into the city’s map room to demonstrate how they want their ward redrawn. The city mapmakers then produce a map. If ten or more members of city council disagree with the proposed map, they can propose another map and the process drags on until a referendum can be held in March, a potentially costly procedure. The most infamous example of prolonging the process was the 1992 referendum that cost taxpayers millions of dollars.

There is a reason that redistricting is so important this time around. Hyde Park resident and political activist Dorothy Scheff made this explicit after the Redistricting 101 meeting: “There is more hope now—for the first time all the aldermen have been elected and there is a new mayor. The aldermen have not been appointed like the Daley crop. [Redistricting] is a problem we have been aware of for generations.” She gestured toward her fellow Montgomery Place retirement home residents and said, “I think now we feel there is a chance for change.”

Jane Fentress

“How can we help expand a community for woman artists and artists of color throughout the city and South Side?”

Theaster Gates, Director of Arts and Public Life at the University of Chicago, has asked himself this question for years. A nationally recognized artist who is trained in urban planning, Gates is known for taking a leading role in community development programs on the South Side. One such development, the Dorchester Project in Grand Crossing, is a house that Gates transformed into a performance space and multimedia library. But one project is not enough to serve an entire city and satisfy what Gates calls his “grand ambition” of “seeing the arts flourish on the South Side.” As a result, Gates is spearheading a new UofC Arts and Public Life initiative aimed at strengthening the connection between the arts communities on and off campus.

The cornerstone of this $1.85 million University-funded initiative will be an “arts incubator” in Washington Park. The space, a nearly century-old two-story terra cotta building and former liquor store on Garfield Boulevard, is currently being transformed into a space for South Side artists to gather and work. The initiative will fund three one-year artist fellowships and residencies in order to create an environment of collaboration that Gates feels is key to the creative process. “The value of having multiple artists sharing one space is that they can be colleagues and engage each other in the why of their practices,” he says. In addition to studios, the incubator will also host performance and exhibition space. And Gates plans to reach out to neighborhood schools through a K-12 after school arts program that will collaborate with existing UofC student organizations engaged in teaching art across the South Side.

The incubator is set to open in late 2012. Gates has worked closely with Bill Michel, the executive director of the UofC’s Reva and David Logan Center for Creative and Performing Arts. The two have been collaborating with existing arts education programs in the area since the beginning of the last school year. They see the new incubator as a response to a pressing need: “There is no lack of culture on the South Side. There is no lack of creative people on the South Side. The thing we lack is spaces where people can convene, rehearse, we lack venues for arts engagement. When venues are identified, the cultural wealth of the neighbors makes itself present.”

But Gates doesn’t think the work he and his colleagues are doing stops at the promotion of culture. “When culture lives in a place and when space is made for cultural life, other things grow in this kind of ecological system. How do we make space for artists so that the creative community around them has a place where they can share culture?” he asks. With the new Logan Center opening in 2012 and the Washington Park incubator to open soon after, it seems as though the South Side art scene will have lots of new room to grow.

Claire Hungerford

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On October 13, Cecilia Butler spoke before the Chicago Transit Board for the second time in four months. Standing before the seven-member board, the 63-year-old woman repeated what they had already heard her say four times before, with few new changes: that the historic station house across the street from the Garfield Green Line stop could and should be a building operated by and for the community; that the old station house was a historic building and deserved recognition as such; and that she was willing to work with CTA and do whatever it took to make that happen. “Please give us this opportunity,” she said. “That’s all we ask. We’re willing to pay whatever it takes to renovate this location.”

And with that, without comment, the board moved on to the next speaker. Cecilia Butler, having spoken her mind before the board about the station house for the fifth time since 1995, leaned away from the microphone. Wearing a hat and coat to protect from the first cold day in over a week, Butler let the next speaker of the meeting’s public comments period finish before returning to her seat, one of a hundred in CTA’s second-floor boardroom.

The station house Butler is fighting for doesn’t leave much of an impression these days. Dwarfed by the Green Line tracks above it and the active station across from it, the 1892 station house is, for the most part, ignored or unseen. Its bay window has remained intact, crowned with a half-cone roof, though the station’s polychrome brickwork has been painted white, one of its small arched windows has been bricked in, and a pair of steel doors—locked—now marks the entrance.

When it opened on October 12, 1892, the building’s doors served as the gateway to the great parks of the city’s South Side: “The new station at Fifty-fifth street occupies a fine situation,” wrote the Chicago Daily Tribune, a day after trains began servicing the station. “Everywhere there is a profusion of trees and foliage. One may stand on the platform and look over the rural scene, whose picturesqueness is heightened by the beautiful boulevard which to the east curves gracefully and is lost in a wood of sturdy young oak trees, over the tops of which rise the domes and roofs of the World’s Fair buildings.” The dedication of the Columbian Exposition was nine days away, the grand opening of the fair to the public was six months away, and Washington Park—the 372-acre vision of Central Park architects Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux—was just two decades old.

By the turn of the century,  Washington Park was becoming a predominately African-American neighborhood. By 1950 it was 99-percent African- American and had grown to over 56,000 people. Right around the time Cecilia Butler was attending elementary school in the neighborhood, however, the people began to disappear. By 2010 the population had dropped below 12,000, and current data from the U.S. Dept. of Housing and Urban Development show that businesses have disappeared along with the population: the neighborhood has a business vacancy rate of 26 percent—three times that of neighboring Hyde Park.

As the neighborhood deteriorated, so did the Green Line that served it. In 1994, the entire length of the line was shut down for a 28-month renovation. That included talk of building “superstations,” which would have included shops, a bank, and even a daycare center, at both the Garfield and Pulaski stops. A 1995 Sun-Times story, written when construction of the superstation seemed imminent, quotes a younger Cecilia Butler as saying, “A change is coming to Washington Park.”

But the change didn’t happen. In an e-mailed statement, CTA, looking back on the superstation discussions, said that it “was a bit ahead of its time and there were no retail outlets interested in having their business be a part of the station renovations.” Unexpected expenditures in the Green Line renovation as a whole may also have played a role: the renovation project ultimately ran $100 million over budget, and the plans for a renovated superstation never materialized

“The community never envisioned what they built across the street,” said Butler in a phone interview. “We were still working on [the old historic location] and building up around it.” As a representative of the Greater Washington Park Development Corp., Butler came before CTA in 1995 with a unique plan for a “superstation,” to turn the historic station into a site where visitors could get information on the community and nearby museums.

With the superstation idea rejected, a new station on the north side of Garfield was completed in 2001. In December of that year the Commission on Chicago Landmarks designated the historic station a Chicago landmark, granting it legal protection as one of the oldest mass transit stations in the country.

A decade later, and the station house was still on Butler’s mind. Her vision for the building expanded in the mid-2000s, and what had once been envisioned as an information center developed into a community center with a “micro-library” offering coffee and Wi-Fi. Community members who work or used to work at WVON, an African-American talk radio station, have donated over a thousand books to the project in hopes of creating a public library in the neighborhood.

In 2009 Butler and her new vision for the building were given a swift response by the Transit Board: write a one-page business plan, figure out how to make your idea financially viable, and then get back to us. Undeterred, Butler founded the Washington Park Historical Society to consolidate support for the renovation of the station house. A year later and she was back before the board, presenting her idea and going on to meet with the board’s chairman.

Once again, however, no progress was made. On July 15, 2011, Butler made her fourth appearance before the Transit Board. In the following weeks she began discussing her plan and its logistics with CTA officials, going over its details and plan of execution until, on August 25, she received a letter from CTA’s director of infrastructure support services. Unbeknownst to Butler, the historic station house had served as a maintenance facility for Green Line rail staff since the station’s closure. “I thought that was insulting,” said Butler. “I just couldn’t understand.” CTA went on to inform Butler that its maintenance operations could not be relocated, but that it would work with her to find a new location for the historical society and the planned community center.

“The purpose of us being there,” said Butler, repeating a refrain she’s used many times in speaking to various CTA officials, “is because that’s a landmark. Give it to the community. The city named it as a historical location, so why shouldn’t the historical society be located there?” The Hyde Park Historical Society, she notes, has been able to work out a deal with Metra to rent a historic cable car building on Lake Park and 55th—why shouldn’t the Washington Park Historical Society be able to work out a deal with CTA?

Butler has offered to pay CTA for use of the station house, to cover the cost of renovating the building, and—after hearing of the agency’s use of the building as a maintenance storage space—to build a steel storage unit across the street, on the vacant land surrounding the current station or beneath the tracks that run over it. Cost, she says, is not an issue. Even after she was asked how she planned to maintain the facility once it was renovated, Butler maintained that “we have money, as an organization.” She would not specify how much capital the project had behind it, or where the money was coming from. Neither would she estimate how much the project would cost—she was last inside the building 15 years ago, and CTA, she says, will not let her and her organization back inside to evaluate its condition. And even though the station is located within the 47th and State TIF district, Butler says, “We don’t need a TIF to do what we’re trying to do.”

CTA, for its part, has consistently turned down her offer to build them a new maintenance facility. The agency responded to an inquiry about its rejection of Butler’s proposal by saying that the properties it presently owns “are being reviewed for possible transit-oriented development opportunities. Consequently we cannot use those properties for the needs of our maintenance operations.” It could be that CTA opposes her idea to refurbish the old station house on the south side of Garfield because they are planning to more thoroughly develop the north side of the street. Or, Butler’s proposal doesn’t constitute what the agency considers “transit-oriented development,” though their definition of what that means is hazy at best.

CTA noted in a statement that “transit-oriented development opportunities have greatly increased” since the failed superstations of the ‘90s. In 2008, the agency partnered with Chicago-based real estate firm Jones Lang LaSalle to develop land around stops throughout its system to help boost ridership and neighborhood economies. Currently, the firm is marketing a number of CTA stations for development—but the Garfield Green Line stop is not one of them. CTA, then, is at once opposing Butler’s proposition because it seeks to develop the land around the Garfield station, and doing nothing to develop that land.

“Transit-oriented development,” the agency wrote in another statement, “will position CTA as an anchor within communities and help attract further capital improvements through commercial and residential development.” The agency neither confirmed nor denied that Butler’s plan conformed to their idea of transit-oriented development as something that would “help and attract further capital improvements.” But it seems as though the conversion of a private maintenance facility into a public space would, at the very least, bring additional foot traffic—additional people—into the area. Five presentations before the board have yet to convince CTA.

Yet in the aftermath of her most recent presentation to the board, Butler remains optimistic. As the meeting transitioned into its official proceedings, Butler rose from her seat and slipped out the back door, followed closely by a CTA official. The two talked quietly for about a minute, he craning his neck down, she looking up and nodding in agreement, until the official returned to the board meeting and Butler started down the stairs with a smile. “He said, ‘Keep on fighting.’ And that’s what I plan to do.”

Jane Fentress

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Huddled together under an overcast sky, a dozen volunteers and 3rd Ward Alderman Pat Dowell wait patiently for the clean-up to begin. Despite the weather, the small group has gathered in a vacant parking lot in Washington Park, showing their commitment to the neighborhood, and in some cases, to one another. Best friends of 40 years and Washington Park residents of even longer, Lex and Rob are two volunteers intent on leading the clean-up. After a few minutes of energetic chatter, Lex, a broad-shouldered man in his forties, raises his left arm and gestures to East Garfield Boulevard, drawing attention to the green grass and trees that span the length of the street.

“Rob and I have been doing this clean-up for the last five years,” Lex says proudly, “We want to keep this neighborhood free of garbage and looking nice so that everyone can enjoy the area.”

Last Saturday was the last Clean and Green Day with Richard M. Daley in office. For over two decades, community action groups and teams of volunteers have organized around this annual event, removing litter from their neighborhood lawns and streets. Overall, Clean and Green has been celebrated as a success in civic service—in 2009 alone, the event had a total turnout of 10,500, including representatives from 450 different groups from across the city. More than just a day of sweaty raking and trash pick-up, Clean and Green Day has become an opportunity for community-building: in many neighborhoods, cookouts accompany the dirty work, and DJs entertain volunteers taking a break. But it’s not just isolated citizens and do-gooders who participate in the cleaning efforts; local businesses have begun setting up their own cleaning teams and sponsoring the event in their neighborhoods.

Clean and Green is part of a much wider city beautification initiative that began with Daley’s election to office in 1989. To attract investors and tourists, Daley ordered the development and maintenance of key locations in the city, most notably in Downtown Chicago. After years of “greening” initiatives, including the construction of over 2 million square feet of rooftop gardens and purchasing ten “Green Machine” street vacuum sweepers in 1998, Daley’s environmental efforts have paid off: Chicago was named the ninth greenest city in America by Popular Science in 2008, coming in ahead of Minneapolis, Denver, and New York City.

But that isn’t to say that the Mayor’s intentions haven’t been marred by controversy. Though Daley did establish lush public spaces in the downtown area—with Millennium Park as the centerpiece—and reinvented areas like Greektown as culturally significant attractions, South Side activists have repeatedly accused Daley of forgoing development in their neighborhoods, favoring local projects in the Loop and farther north. With few recreational parks, poor access to recycling facilities, and the Crawford and Fisk coal-fired power plants still polluting the air, many residents argue that Daley’s sparkling green vision is confronted with harsh, sooty reality.

“In terms of the government bettering this neighborhood, most of what I see comes from Alderman Dowell and not the Mayor,” Rob admitted, “He’s given her some money and supplies to plant the trees you see all along this Boulevard, but just look at all those potholes. Those haven’t been fixed for years.”

According to residents like Rob, the popular dissatisfaction with Daley is derived from the perception that because his main focus lies with the downtown area, not enough funds or other resources have been allocated for the development of other, less touristy, city neighborhoods. The mayor claims to provide for all city neighborhoods with initiatives like TIF budgeting, “used to encourage development and investment where it would not otherwise occur,” as the city’s web page describes. But TIF districting, perhaps more than any other city-wide effort, has demonstrated the remarkable gap in funds available for development projects in the Loop versus those on the South Side—$20,000,000 are available on average for the 16 designated zones in the “Central” area of the city, where only about $3,000,000 are available for the 56 zones on the South Side.  It has been the task of individual South Side aldermen and residents to work to bridge this gap, and to continue to rail against unkempt, and sometimes even hazardous, community facilities that impede development and economic opportunities. Shoddy maintenance of parks, roads, and buildings has kept investors and visitors away from the South Side while discouraging residents from fully enjoying their neighborhoods’ public spaces.

“You know, back when Lex and I were young, we used to play football and do acrobatics all along this boulevard, and people would stop, talk to us, and pay us to do a few tricks for them,” Rob mentions, remembering his childhood, “Now you don’t see any kids around. Kids don’t play in the streets because there’s crime, and they don’t visit the parks because the parks aren’t equipped well and drug dealers roam them. There just isn’t that feeling of home that I enjoyed as a boy anymore.”

Using the limited cash and supplies they do possess, South Side aldermen like Dowell are committed to improving their neighborhood’s appearance and raising property values. A long strip of healthy grass and lithe trees that runs along East Garfield Boulevard testifies to Dowell’s determination to make the most of Daley`s offerings and show her love for the area. But the greenery is completely surrounded by the rest of the neighborhood`s grey and dusty image, characterizing the work that still needs to be done.

City government money only goes so far, and it’s rarely far enough. To finish what Daley started, local organizations and agencies have been picking up the slack, raising funds independently and planning the desired initiatives. Ghian Foreman, a charismatic, broad-smiled man who works with the Washington Park development agency New South Partners, is part of such a movement. Foreman and his coworkers spend much of their time backing Dowell through grassroots initiatives that not only promote clean neighborhoods, but also deliberately seek to bring back a sense of community.

Each year, Foreman and his colleagues at New South Partners persuade nearby businesses and residents to participate in the Clean and Green event—whether through extra funding, food, or an additional hand they can count on for the day. By engaging local residents in cleanup efforts, they claim, communities will become more invested in their own health and well-being.

“What you’re doing is motivating people to take ownership and responsibility for their land. You’re getting them to show that they care,” Foreman says. “Because if you don’t care, why would the government?”

For Dowell and Foreman, getting residents to appreciate their living space is better than any of the benefits of greater mayoral attention, and can open the door for economic development without governmental intervention. Characterizing the area as a “diamond in the rough,” Foreman and Dowell pointed out the large number of people they see walking around the Midway, along the streets, in Hyde Park restaurants, and illustrated the potential for industry and employment.

“You never know who’s passing by,” Dowell explained. “Investment [in this area] has remained stagnant for the last 30 years, even though there are so many attractions here. A few pieces of garbage here and there can discourage an investor to start a business, so making sure all public spaces are clean is extremely important if you want to attract new businesses and create opportunities for jobs.”

But equally as important is youth involvement to create a better future for the community. Foreman strives to install a sense of community-building in youth by offering them responsibilities to encourage respect for their surroundings. The majority of Clean and Green flyers are distributed to schools, and New South Partners employs teens during the summer to pick up litter around the city. Volunteers have also made youth participation a large part of why they are involved with the clean-up, because, in their eyes, it isn’t just about fixing up the neighborhood, it’s also about providing positive role models for the community’s children.

And so on another April Saturday, for the 23rd year in a row, 3rd Ward volunteers continue to rake and pick up trash in the Washington Park area. The goal is to one day attract businesses, tourists, a sense of citizenship and responsibility, and perhaps even the next mayor’s attention. With promises to enforce the city’s solid waste recycling ordinance and claims to turn parks into safe recreational sites, Rahm Emmanuel`s policies entice residents to observe closely and see how much Chicago, as a whole city this time, improves.

But in the meantime, residents will continue as they have for the last few years. Glancing quickly at the garbage-filled parking lot, Lex perked up and reached for a broom and dust pan, joking all the while.

“I love how we`re standing here talking about cleaning, but none of us have even looked at the parking lot!” he says, laughing, “There aren`t a lot of us here, but we might as well keep on going.”

He pauses before muttering on, “It`s the only thing left to do.”

oceandesetoiles/flickr

A grandmotherly woman named Loretta handed me a slice of coffee cake, pulled up a stool, and told me to introduce myself as I entered the Washington Park Field House for the Seed Starting Workshop for Beginners. Seated on benches around large wooden worktables, fifteen other gardeners from the South Side smiled and nodded sympathetically when I admitted to being a college student with no gardening experience. The endearingly diverse group, made up of everyone from the confident elderly to the meek young, had come together for the second installment of the Washington Park Conservancy’s Birds, Bees & Beets 2011 lecture series.

The lecture, given by Kristen McPhee from the Chicago Botanic Garden, and the workshop that followed were filled with enthusiasm and nurturing support for beginner gardeners. McPhee’s language was clear and her scope comprehensive, as she walked participants through the process of turning a measly packet of seeds into a thriving vegetable garden—from setting up seedling-growing stations indoors to calculating germination time. To the delight of everyone present, some gardeners offered their own quirky suggestions for completing each step cheaply or for free, like using Christmas lights or radiators as heat sources and making newspaper cups to hold baby seedlings. Afterwards, Washington Park Conservancy President Madiem Kawa led a hands-on session for the new gardeners to test the various methods for housing seedlings, which—despite its educational content—might have been just a good excuse to play with dirt. Throughout the workshop, participants traded stories about obscure and coveted heirloom tomato varieties and predicted when the last frost will occur.

If you’ve finished your spring cleaning and are looking for a way to usher in the spring time, the Washington Park Gardening Lecture Series is hosting three more sessions in the coming weeks. Future lectures are set to address backyard beekeeping and food preservation. As this workshop proved, there’s a strong network of support in the Washington Park Conservancy for green-thumbed South Side residents; people of all skill levels are welcome. With the support the Washington Park Conservancy, at least a dozen private and community gardens are bound to pop up on the South Side this season. Washington Park Field House, 5531 S. King Drive. Call (773)203-3418 to register.

Courtesy of TL Barrett

The Life Center Church of God in Christ sits on the corner of Garfield and Indiana, just east of the honorary two-and-a-half block Rev. T.L. Barrett, Jr. Blvd. The boulevard’s namesake is sitting in a pew close to the pulpit. On the second Sunday morning of the year, he’s just been introduced by Minister Camara to a standing ovation by over a hundred beaming congregants. It is his birthday—or rather, as the bulletin reads, and as Minister Camara reminds everyone—his “earth day”. And this is Pastor Barrett, after all: the man who organized the Life Center Church just west of Washington Park, who twenty-odd years ago was implicated in a pyramid scheme, and who in 1971 recorded a rare gospel record with South Side youth that was rereleased to great acclaim this past year.

The album “Like A Ship…(Without A Sail)” has been described by just about every music review site as a holy grail of gospel. For the 39 years since its small-scale release, collectors and gospel fans have had to search through milk crates of used vinyl to find the recording, which was originally distributed mostly at church functions and neighborhood events. “I think it took about 45 seconds into track one and we were instantly hooked,” said Matt Sullivan, co-owner and founder of Light in the Attic Records. The album was licensed to Light in the Attic by Numero Group, an archival record label based in Little Village that spent four years trying to obtain the license from Barrett. “Like A Ship” was re-released last July with three bonus tracks on LP, CD, and MP3. Eight tracks of funky gospel-soul goodness, “Like A Ship” sounds as though it’s being streamed right out of the sanctuary. And with the 40-person Youth For Christ Choir backing Barrett, there’s an infectiousness to the sound that transcends any objections about the record being “unprofessional,” which it is—Barrett is a self-trained musician leading Washington Park youth, after all.

Born in New York City in 1944, Barrett spent much of his early life in Chicago where he attended public schools on the South Side until his dismissal from Wendell Phillips High School. The dismissal, coupled with the death of his father that same year, prompted him to return to New York in 1960. Home in the Jamaica neighborhood of Queens, Barrett earned a G.E.D. and went on to graduate from Bethel Bible Institute, where he honed his piano skills. Returning to Chicago in 1967, he became the pastor of the Mt. Zion Baptist Church the following year. It was here at Mt. Zion that he recorded “Like A Ship” and began to gain recognition throughout the city as a community leader and an activist who used music as a means of enriching the lives of youth. His successful ministry at Mt. Zion led him to organize the Life Center Church in 1976. Barrett would eventually grow close to Jesse Jackson and Eugene Sawyer, the second black mayor of Chicago, before being implicated in a pyramid scheme in 1988 and ordered to either pay restitution or face jail time.

Now, on a Sunday in 2011, Barrett’s congregants sing “Happy Birthday” in celebration of his 67th —this is his 68th year, the preacher clarifies; he’s only just fulfilled his 67th. Barrett, funny and charismatic, notes all this on the pulpit, in semi-conversation with one of the congregants standing next to him. Wearing a suit and a round white hat, Barrett looks much older than his “…Without A Sail” self: he has long white sideburns—neatly trimmed—and moves slowly and deliberately, appearing for the first time fifteen minutes into the two-and-a-half-hour service. He is loved by his congregation and by his choir, and after tithes are collected for the church, everyone moves to the center aisle to wish him well, shake his hand, and wish him a happy birthday. A birthday offering is taken up—envelopes are handed out with the church bulletin—and a gift is collected for the Pastor, for the “spiritual leader [who] has always said ‘my church first’” and has, according to another minister, even taken one-third of his regular salary when times were especially hard upon the church. Following the Benediction, a celebratory meal for Pastor Barrett is held in Barrett Hall. “Joyful Noise”—track number six on “Like A Ship”—would have served as an appropriate soundtrack.

So which story of Barrett’s life deserves the headline: the passionate preacher, the accused schemer, or the gospel musician now clapping at the head of his congregation? The youth choir that backs up Barrett on track five sings it best: “Nobody knows…”

“Like a Ship” is available for purchase at lightintheattic.net

by Andrea Rummel

The morning of the Midwest Cricket Conference’s (MCC) Division II final dawns so hot that the sun melts the goose feces that litter the massive fields of Washington Park. On ground number four, elegantly dressed all in white and toting worn bats and wooden wickets, the QC Kings and Rogers Park are readying themselves for the culmination of a tournament begun in April. QC Kings, captained by Nihar Shah, is made up of all Indians, while Rogers Park has only Pakistanis. “Oh dear…” a spectator might worry, sipping tea and thinking abstractly of Kashmir border conflicts, “I hope the game doesn’t get ugly.”

And indeed, conflict is rife in the cricketing circle of Washington Park, but it is an unexpected conflict. “There’s no racial rivalry between us,” says Shah, affirmed by nods from the Rogers Park players, whose off-break bowler, Faraz Najam adds with a laugh, “This isn’t like the India vs. Pakistan final.” The mess in the Midwest cricketing circle has nothing to do with world history.

Under the shoes of the 22 cricketers and two umpires, the surface of Washington Park is a broiling mass of soil that turns into a sloppy mess when exposed to any form of hydration—be it rain or the blood, sweat, and tears of a cricket team. Mohammad Iftikhar, the vice president of the conference, is frustrated that after three years of his club battling the mud, the Park District has not made any progress in introducing a drainage system to the cricket grounds. The QC Kings travel 200 miles from Iowa to play in Washington Park, but according to Iftikhar they are often turned away when a sodden pitch makes any sport but swimming hopeless.

A source from the MCC claimed that the Park District has given one of the MCC’S four grounds (ground one, which has the best drainage) to the American Cricket Conference (ACC) because of an old connection. “The MCC has invested in developing the land, and now the ACC is benefiting,” the source said, resigned. “And because the Park District doesn’t offer long term contracts, we never know when our land will be taken away from us.”

Sohail Bari, the president of the ACC, refuted the claims in an e-mail, writing, “Oh God, where is the justice?” He explained, “The ACC has partnered with United Cricket League (UCL) for the last four years…UCL has been at Washington Park for about 37 years and the person who runs the UCL spent the money to build these four cricket pitches.”

But it seems that the cricket conflicts are as much about manners as management. Says the MCC source, “The ACC only play for leisure and not in proper uniform.” The MCC finalists in their cricket whites, and umpired by a volunteer from the Pakistan Cricket Board, do seem as polished as any league in India or Pakistan.

But where inter-league rivalry is fierce, the sportsmanship among the players makes for a much friendlier scene. Here, cricket is the tie that binds, and during the match, resting players from both teams enjoy food from India and Pakistan. The players agree that the ethnic segregation of the teams comes about circumstantially when immigrant communities hold on to this one piece of their homelands—a game that Indian and Pakistani boys learn to play before they can tie their shoelaces. The racial division of the teams is not a product of exclusivity but of attraction; the Rogers Park team was started by a few men who moved from Pakistan together, adding family members until they had formed a squad of Pakistanis.

Although before the match Rogers Park pray to Allah while the QC Kings sit around applying sun block, all are united by their love of a sport that they first played in far away lands. The Indians and Pakistanis, conversing in Hindi and Urdu, are really here for the same reason, speaking languages only as different as American English is from the Queen’s vernacular. It seems incidental when Rogers Park wins.

On October 1st, the eastern edge of Washington Park is coming alive as families make their way into the blue and yellow tents of the UniverSoul Circus. The classic circus imagery is all here: brightly dressed clowns, animals pacing outside the tents, food everywhere, and appreciative kids. But there’s a significant difference from a typical circus scene: the audience is almost entirely African-American, and the circus itself draws on themes of black culture. Inside the tents, the expected smells of popcorn and funnel cakes that fill the air have a twist; vendors sell foods such as “soulhot wings” to inspire the mood in the circus audience.

The circus is popular now, but it took a long time to reach this level of success. The project was born in 1994 out of the idea of showcasing a wide variety of black talent to spectators, besides just singing and dancing. Before the vision could come to fruition, it was necessary to reach deep into the African-American past and search for historic examples of innovative black entertainment. The circus’s founders conducted research in libraries, and discovered a black circus operating in 1893, which became the launching point of UniverSoul.  The past that the circus is built on is often uncomfortable. In that same year of 1893, on the same grounds that the UniverSoul Circus occupies today, Washington Park hosted a cultural exhibition of a different kind. The Chicago World’s Fair brought representatives from countries across the world onto the same stage, stretching across miles of what is now Hyde Park and Woodlawn. While many countries had pavilions that presented their proudest accomplishments, the representation of many cultures, and especially black Africans, was often exploitative entertainment under a thin veil of anthropological curiosity.

Along with his fellow schemers, current CEO Cedric Walker searched for positive examples of black entertainment, and decided that for the new show, they would fuse hip-hop and musical theater, with a nod to vaudeville. Coming up with the concept of a new kind of big top circus was easy. Finding black circus performers would prove to be harder. After a long search, Cedric Walker found Prince BoJino, one of the first black lion tamers. It was a lucky break for the young entrepreneur. BoJino introduced him to legendary black performers and helped organize training for all the animal acts.

The first show opened in 1994 to a low showing and no profit. But even with the slow start, rave reviews and encouragement spurred Walker to continue pursuing his dream. Little by little, his circus started to gain recognition, and by 1997 the circus tour had expanded to ten cities. In 2001, the circus hit its first international destination with a trip to South Africa. This year, the show is touring 32 cities, and while the cast is predominately African-American, the circus includes performers from countries all around the world, including China, Russia, and Brazil.

The founders of UniverSoul have built a successful commercial circus around themes of black heritage. “We market to all audiences, but the general public stereotypes ‘soul’ with a black quality,” says Shone Tribble, the media coordinator, as she walks among the crowds Friday night. “But it’s definitely a human characteristic.” The evening promises to be lively, though, as Tribble boasts about a sold out show. Soon, the tent’s 2,500 seats are filled.

The lights dim and glow sticks beam in the dark. A clown wearing a black suit, giant shoes, and the archetypal red nose steps out to greet the crowd. Right away, he begins to clap his hands and dance to the syncopated rhythm of the music. He walks toward the audience and begins to stomp his feet and blow his whistle. Within seconds, the arena is filled with stomps and claps, which meld in unison. An old woman in a wheelchair beats her cane on the ground in order to join in on the rhythms around her. After a few minutes, the clown calls upon a few young men in the audience and brings them onstage, where they all dance to the hip-hop beats blaring from the speakers. The audience goes wild and stands up to dance along with them. The clown soon bids farewell and a group of African drummers gracefully take their places on stage. Drums beat and a man begins to sing a melody that recalls African roots. Their attire consists of ripped leopard tops and capris with colorful socks. Inspiring an image of cheerleaders, the performers climb atop each other and rouse the audience to yell and shout. Minutes later, two basketball players burst out from backstage and start twirling basketballs around. Upping the ante significantly, a circle of fire appears and more basketball players descend on the scene. One courageous player jumps through the ring of fire and dunks his basketball into the hoop. The ringmaster’s voice starts to speak from overhead. A chant of “Chi-ca-go” comes up in the audience.

After a few fast-paced acts that keep the audience enthralled, seven poodles come onstage with their caretaker. Unanimous awe fills the room as they walk around and flirt with the audience. Two more poodles come out wearing a tuxedo and a dress and begin playing jump rope with the caretaker. As the poodles make their exit, Pit Bull’s “You Know You Want Me” starts to play over the speakers as acrobats appear many feet off the ground. The audience looks up to witness a series of dangerous feats. One by one, each man walks across the tight rope while holding a vertical beam. Even more courageous, one man climbs atop the shoulders of another. The man on the bottom slowly starts to walk across the tightrope. Sweat glistens from the face of each man. The arena is dead silent as the crowd awaits their fate. Applause and cheers erupt as they make it across the plank. Straight out of a classic Soul Train episode, the ringmaster Tony Tone calls upon ten audience members to “ride the soul train.” Five people sweep onto the stage, ready to show off their moves. As the song plays, the audience members dance like no one is watching. After the soul train has left the station, the circus takes an unexpected turn to the East. The stage makes way to Asian dancers wearing colorful outfits with loose sleeves, lending the appearance of wings. Mystical music starts playing, with plucked strings and airy notes in pentatonic scales. Elaborately designed ropes appear in the middle of the stage and each dancer takes flight in the air. Kids’ mouths form Os as the dancers fly across the space, catching one another in mid flight.

After a short intermission, the second half of the show begins with an animalistic bang. Fences surround the stage. Cages roll out and tigers are let loose. At a commanding fortissimo, the music emphasizes the wild power of the tigers. A background of plants and red skies rises up behind the scene, making it feel like the set of “The Lion King.” Lightening the mood, ushers appear in the audience with several, huge bouncy balls. Almost immediately the balls are bouncing all over the arena and audience members are immersed in a giant game of volleyball.

If you take a step back, it’s a complicated kind of entertainment. But it’s hard to step back. The circus is enthralling, and it’s so much fun that even as you are surrounded by history, it pulls you into a spectacle that is all about the present. After a few more acts, the show comes to a close with the entire cast coming out to dance to “Thriller,” a classic example of a piece of African-American pop culture that’s appreciated and celebrated by a much wider audience. UniverSoul is a circus built on the history of African-American entertainment, but the kind of fun that it achieves is universal, truly bringing out the human aspects of soul.

Eight different agencies throughout the city served as headquarters in conducting the survey. Outreach organization Featherfist was the lead agency for the South and Far South Sides; volunteers—all participation is on a purely voluntary basis—were to meet at the Featherfist office at 7pm for training. The office is located inside the South Shore Business Center at 75th and Crandon, a nondescript block of a building that recently lost some of its tenants after a frozen pipe burst.

Two police cars sit near the entrance as we approach the building. Shivon Brown, a data entry operator at Featherfist, greets us at the door. She motions to a sign-in sheet, shows us the conference room where training will be conducted, and informs us that there are refreshments in the back. But first, we have liability release forms to fill out.

We’re some of the first to arrive. Police officers congregate while volunteers sit patiently in the conference room. Darlene Jones-Lewis, a Grants Research Specialist with the Chicago Family & Support Services Department, sits in the back row. Alessandra Budnik, from the Office of Budget & Management, has also arrived to help. It is the second time she’s participated in the point-in-time count; for Jones-Lewis, it is the first.

“I guess I was interested in coming to participate in the count because the department I’m in is responsible for the surveys,” Jones-Lewis explains. “We’re responsible for the training, for the development…Being a first-time participant, I want to make sure they’re giving the right instructions.” Budnik has similar intents. “[I want to] better get to know my department’s operations,” she states.

Aside from shelter employees, the volunteers consist almost entirely of city officials. They come from a variety of departments—Family & Support Services, Budget & Management, the Health Department—that will work in various ways with the data collected tonight. The numbers are not just used to allocate federal funding; they are a statistic vital to the city’s Plan to End Homelessness.

***

“The Mayor has an objective, and that is to end homelessness in ten years,” Jones-Lewis explains. In 2003, Daley endorsed the initiative. The 10-Year Plan to End Homelessness calls for the transition from reliance on the shelter system to more stable, permanent housing. Various city departments cooperate to use demographics gathered from the point-in-time count to better anticipate demand for social services, such as emergency shelter and food supplies. According to the Chicago Alliance to End Homelessness, the overall homeless population in Chicago has decreased over the past twelve years; the total number of homeless families decreased by twenty-four percent between 2005 and 2007. However, the number of chronic homeless people—disabled or disordered individuals who have been homeless for over a year or four times within three years—has increased six percent in the same time frame.

At the moment, there are ninety operational shelters in Chicago. There are 6,716 units of permanent housing, a seventy-one percent increase since the Plan went into effect, and more than 2,000 beds are allocated to interim housing. In addition to crisis intervention and immediate support services, the 10-Year Plan to End Homelessness also focuses on homeless prevention, providing short-term financial assistance to households at risk of their homes. The City of Chicago spends about $6 million of its $169 million annual budget on prevention services, serving nearly 7,000 households annually.

Lorrie Walls, Assistant Director of Grants, Research & Planning at the Department of Family & Support Services, emphasizes how important the data are in determining the city’s homelessness trends. “We try to measure our progress in terms of service delivery and the point-in-time count, [measured] against the 10-Year Plan,” she explains. Her office interacts primarily with the Office of Budget & Management, which then relates to the Mayor’s Office to prepare reports for HUD applications. Point-in-time count results are typically released in the spring, but the federal budget allocations are not announced until December.

***

Eight o’clock comes and goes. Only twenty or so volunteers have arrived thus far, but the room fills up over the next half hour. A woman strides into the room. Sharply dressed in a black sweater and crisp khakis, with a chic pair of rectangular glasses and her hair pulled back tight, she assumes control of the crowd.

“I am Stacey Anewishki,” she declares. “I’m here to go over what you’ll be doing this evening, answer any questions, and send you out there.

“This is a HUD-mandated point-in-time count. We go out—always on the coldest day of the year!—and try and hunt down the homeless, those chronically homeless folks,” she explains. We are to be divided into groups of three or four and assigned to certain neighborhoods throughout the South Side. Each group is given a map; one member will be in charge of navigation. Another will be team leader. We are to survey each homeless individual we meet, asking questions regarding the frequency and duration of their time on the street; other questions cover substance abuse, mental illness, and former incarcerations. We are not to approach anyone in parks, young people gathered in groups, or sleeping persons—doing so could potentially put us in danger.”

A volunteer raises her hand. “Not that I expect this to happen, but if you’re just talking to someone and they attack you, do you defend yourself?”

“Uh, yeah!” Anewishki answers with a laugh.

The training continues. There are seventy-three volunteers gathered at Featherfist. Most are older women who work for the city. A handful are younger. A handful are white. A few have even been homeless themselves and, having benefited from Featherfist’s help, now volunteer to return the favor. Twelve police officers are among those on hand to assist with the count; they’ll follow the groups surveying more dangerous areas. One officer interrupts Anewishki with a question.

“Lady, these locations—how do we do this? Do we just go out…?”

“You got maps, don’t worry,” she responds assertively. “I’ve been here since eight planning.” It seems she is one of the only people in the room with a firm grasp of how the count will pan out. As the meeting comes to a close, she begins to read out names, indicating who will be in each group. Individuals gather in clusters, introducing themselves; as more groups are identified, order breaks down. Volunteers scramble to pick up their surveys—all of which must be returned at the end of the night, completed or not—as well as hats and gloves, which will be handed out to the homeless we encounter. Some who have come with friends or co-workers ask to switch groups, so they can stick together.

We’re paired with Mable Seanior, an administrative assistant at the Department of Health. She has worked there for thirty years, and it is her first time volunteering at the count. She heard about it through an email at work. She chalks her participation up to “being nosy”—“I just came out to see what it’s like,” she explains.

The fourth member and leader of our group is Steven Saunders, the Executive Liaison at Featherfist. He will also be our driver for the evening. As we make our way to his car, he details the night’s proceedings. We will be covering the New City neighborhood, which stretches from Wentworth and 37th to Damen, driving until we see potentially homeless individuals. We are then to stop the car and walk the area, attempting to survey any homeless we meet. We are to work in pairs, one male and one female, focusing our efforts on bus stops, liquor stores, gas stations—public places where those without shelter are likely to gather.

Relative populations of homeless in and out of shelters during the January 2007 point-in-time count; graphic by Sam Bowman

Steven Saunders is a portly man with gray hair and a paternal, reassuring demeanor. Born in housing projects on the West Side, he moved to Woodlawn in his youth, and lived in Hyde Park while he attended high school. He still frequents the area often; he works for the RainbowPUSH Coalition in Kenwood. He also gives urban sociology lectures at thirty different universities across the Midwest, and serves as a minister at West Point Baptist Church. He has worked at Featherfist for fourteen years.

Founded in 1984, Featherfist is a non-profit, tax-exempt organization that aims to eliminate homelessness by providing assistance and fostering self-sufficiency. The agency maintains more than 300 interim housing units at various shelters across the South Side; each is specialized to help with different subsets of individuals, such as single men, women with large families, and women in recovery. The organization also runs a permanent shelter facility, Shelter Plus Care, for those who need extra help maintaining their daily lives. Altogether, Featherfist operates ten different programs and serves more than 1,000 clients each year. Many will use the shelters for months at a time, but the goal is to transition them to permanent housing.

Each person must participate in a housing readiness program. Upon completion, Featherfist works with landlords to provide stable homes, negotiating rents and sometimes using the city’s Emergency Funds program to subsidize costs. Featherfist employees check up on the newly-housed weekly for the next month as they adjust. This goes on, albeit less frequently, for some months afterward. The organization employs seventeen case managers who travel the city—much like we were—in search of new homeless individuals to help, continually restarting the cycle.

Our first stop on tonight’s count is Kevin’s Hamburger Heaven, at Pershing Road between Parnell and Wallace (which is technically Bridgeport—we’d often end up surveying areas outside our assigned neighborhood). We walk in and look at the menu overhead, pretending to contemplate our orders, while Saunders asks two male patrons if they’ve seen any homeless people we could survey. None of the customers or staff knows anyone. He gets a milkshake and we leave. Back at the car, a young man approaches and tries to interest us in buying a large mirror. Saunders declines, but introduces himself and explains what we’re trying to do.

“Do you know of anyone around here who is homeless?” he asks.

“Yeah. Me.”

Two of us then get out of the car, hat and survey in hand. The man, a young guy in his mid-twenties, cooperates; Saunders offers him his card and encourages him to contact Featherfist for an intake interview.

As we continue our search, Saunders discusses the state of homelessness in Chicago. “Homelessness is really like any other strata in society,” he explains. “Some people are homeless in the community, but they are still part of the community.” But, as Saunders reminds us, “This is a group with no political power, no purchasing power that’s measurable.” The issue is exacerbated south of the Loop; while homeless people tend to live more communally farther north, he explains, “isolation is imposed on the South Side.” The area around Sheridan and Belmont is known as the “Tramp Trail,” due to its highly visible, tight-knit homeless communities. The housing support system is more extensive on the North Side, where there are more operational shelters and food pantries. Without such a well-organized shelter system, “the homeless on the South and West Sides tend to be a little more invisible,” Saunders says.

***

A young man walks along the side of the road, head down, in no particular hurry. We debate pulling alongside him and asking if he knows of any homeless persons in the area (the evening’s standard approach), but ultimately choose not to. He turns off the main road, onto a residential street. Maybe he’s heading home? Either way, he won’t be in our night’s tally. Deciding who to approach is hardly a science. Quality of clothing is a factor. Size of the group is another, as well as location—parks, remote areas, abandoned buildings are all off-limits. Police officers working with the search will go in later to explore. Park patrols and CTA officials assist in the count as well. Everyone in shelters is tabulated and added to the final total; distinctions between “sheltered” and “unsheltered” are provided in the reports.

Some individuals seem distinctively homeless. We stop the car to approach a woman at 47th and Halsted. She drags a shopping cart full of bags behind her. (“Homeless people, they’re just like pack rats,” Saunders explains, “They have their stuff, but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything to them.”) However, she refuses to participate. Surprisingly, she’s the only one who turns us down all night, but there are others who probably would have. Driving by the Garfield Red Line stop, we pass a man with a sign asking drivers for spare change. We don’t stop. “He’s an entrepreneur—what would be the advantage of him stopping to take a fifteen minute survey?” Saunders reasons. “Being homeless is a part of the way they make money…These people are more self-sufficient, they’re gonna have fifty to a hundred dollars by the end of the night.”

The survey continues. We stop at liquor stores, gas stations, and bus and rail stations. Around midnight, Saunders takes us to a new location: the Chicago Police Department, at 51st and Wentworth. Over forty sleeping bodies are sprawled across the floor; most are men with sleeping bags, blankets, and bundles of clothes. But the trip is for naught—other survey groups have already visited the station, as several of the men angrily inform us. We’re not the cause of their irritation, however; that honor belongs to the city officials who have just arrived.

“Human Services is here,” a female police officer announces. “If you don’t talk to them, you gotta get up outta here. This is not a shelter; this is the Chicago Police Department.” The Department of Human Services staff members take down names of those willing to go to a shelter for the night. They’ve brought a white Ford Econoline, which seats eight to fifteen passengers, for transport. The city has about seven running on any given night; if there’s not enough room, more will be sent to accommodate. It doesn’t seem like it will be an issue, though—many choose not to go. Strict shelter rules, the likelihood of theft or altercations, and the mandatory check-out at 5:30am are strong deterrents from going. Saunders expects many to return to the streets as they leave the police station. He instructs us to observe the directions they take; they might lead us to other homeless individuals. And “it’ll tell us about their resourcefulness,” he explains. “If you’re going to camp out, you need a kind of moxie, you know, a certain confidence.”

Locations of homeless found outside of shelters during the January 2007 point-in-time count; graphic by Sam Bowman

As the economy worsens, homelessness figures should only be expected to rise. But the numbers right now are surprisingly stable. “We have not yet actually seen an increase in the usage of the shelter system,” Jim LoBianco, Deputy Commissioner of the Office of Homeless Services, explains. “However, from our community service centers…demand has increased significantly, so people are definitely looking for more support.” Between 2007 and 2008, requests for supportive services such as emergency food boxes doubled, and requests for rental assistance were up twenty-three percent. Statewide, the news is more discouraging. A January 15 press release from Housing Action Illinois claims that the use of shelters “significantly increased during [the] second half of 2008.” In December 2008, it claims, “Seventy-one percent of state-funded providers of overnight and transitional shelter reported serving an increased number of people experiencing homelessness compared to six months previous” and “more than one-third, thirty-five percent, of agencies reported an increase of more than ten percent.” But much of this increase, LoBianco suggests, stems from the suburbs.

5,916 emergency shelter beds are currently available, spread across ninety different shelters throughout the city—”more than enough capacity,” LoBianco asserts. “During the cold emergency a couple weeks ago, we had anywhere from 700-800 vacant beds on any given night, so we have plenty of beds available.”

Regardless, the city is actively working to procure funding from the economic stimulus bill currently working its way through Congress. According to Bob Palmer, Policy Director of Housing Action Illinois, homelessness support agencies from across the country lobbied for $2 billion for the Emergency Shelter Grant Program, $10 billion for the National Housing Trust Fund, and $10.6 billion for housing choice vouchers, which help people to pay their rent on an ongoing basis. The current proposal however, only includes $1.5 billion to help fund homeless shelters, and neither the National Housing Trust Fund nor voucher program receives any allocations. “In Congress, the House is going to vote on the economics in the package in the next day or so,” Palmer explains, “so we’re reaching out to Senator [Dick] Durbin, saying that we want to make sure that, at minimum, this money for [shelters] will stay in, and if there are options for increased funding, we ask him to support those.”

Both Palmer and LoBianco stress the importance of the package. “Mostly we’re just trying to keep the resources that we have,” Palmer explains. “Any new dollars that are created are going to be created out of the stimulus package,” states LoBianco.

***

One of the last stops of the night is Provident Hospital at 51st and Vernon. Hospitals, like police stations, often function as shelters of last resort; they are both public service institutions, and can be used by people with no place else to go. Unlike police stations, however, they are not always so accommodating, and often turn the homeless away unless the weather is severe. “You can’t just sit here unless you’re here to see a doctor,” the attendant informs us when we ask if any homeless are using the space. “Or you call DHS [Department of Human Services].” He does not let us enter the building.

Outside, the snow begins to stick to the ground. A lone man in his fifties shuffles along the side of the road. We approach him. He is homeless, and suffers from a variety of ailments, including arthritis and deteriorating vision. He receives disability pay from the government. He’s decided to use some of that money to buy a pet dog.

“You gotta see my puppy!” he cries as we’re heading back to the car. We oblige, waiting as he pulls paper after paper from a Ziploc bag. He finds the one he’s looking for and unfolds it.

“They said it was an English mastiff, but it’s a bullmastiff…He was on sale!”

We nod along, complimenting him on the choice.

“I just need a shelter so bad for me and my puppy…”

Saunders gives him his card. We wish him a good night as he stands there, his papers scattered below him on the freshly fallen snow.

***

“This is not something that you enjoy doing,” Saunders confesses. “Over time, you discover that people may be broken or fractured in many ways, but that is not far off from where you might be…What I think is, I could be homeless myself, but I’m not.”

The roads are slick as we make our way back to Featherfist to drop off the seven surveys we’ve completed for the night. We’re informed of two people sleeping in Washington Park; we make a note of it, but don’t survey them—parks are off-limits, and we’re not to wake anyone anyway. It’s a relief to be finished; it’s been a taxing affair. It’s difficult to imagine doing this sort of thing day in and day out, and just experiencing it for one night evokes newfound appreciation for these dedicated public servants. But for Saunders, it’s just part of the job.

“I wish I could tell you something stirring and noble,” he muses. “I’m not stirring and noble. I just feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

photo at top courtesy of flickr user V31S70