Officials, homeless advocates see mixed results from camp sweeps

Sweeps in 2003 led to legal action by homeless people and their advocates.
CINCINNATI (AP) -- A few camp chairs, some bedraggled blankets and clothing and piles of bags, refuse and discarded beer bottles dot a makeshift camp along the Ohio River where "Caveman" has been living for almost two years.
The 49-year-old homeless man, born Gregory Wahoff, said he once lived in camps closer to downtown and more sheltered from the elements, but that ended with the city's efforts to get rid of camps along roads leading into the city.
"They want to keep pushing the homeless out of town, but we've gone about as far as we can," said Caveman, pointing to where the river laps the shore just a few yards from his camp.
Mixed results
In 2003, the city stepped up efforts to clear away the more visible camps that Mayor Charlie Luken and other city officials said caused traffic hazards and hurt the city's image. The resulting uproar, including legal action by homeless people and their advocates, led to a compromise that has had mixed results.
Many say it has improved efforts to help the homeless, but others worry that it has pushed them to camps in dangerous areas.
"The homeless now feel more pressure to hide, and that makes it difficult to reach them to offer services," said Georgine Getty, executive director of the Greater Cincinnati Coalition for the Homeless. "Even more troubling are the recent accidental deaths of homeless individuals in the river."
Last month, a homeless man fell into the river and drowned. Three homeless men died in August when a houseboat that had picked them up was hit by a barge.
"Just forcing the homeless out of sight doesn't help them, and it can endanger them," Getty said.
2003 sweeps
Michael Stoops, acting executive director of the National Coalition for the Homeless, said Cincinnati's attempt to clear the camps two years ago was typical of cities looking to revitalize their downtowns.
"More cities have been trying to criminalize homelessness and push the homeless off the streets, but they don't have enough shelter beds, transitional housing or affordable permanent housing to offer as alternatives," he said.
Social service agencies and police agree that some good has come out of the tumult over the 2003 sweeps. Police must store and tag any possessions removed instead of throwing them away.
"I've had what we street people call ' bushwhackers' throw away my food, clothes, even a new pair of boots," said the weather-beaten, bearded Caveman. "The police don't do it much, but private security guards and others do."
Police also must give the homeless at least three days notice before clearing out a camp and contact service agencies that will seek shelter for those being uprooted.
"I think we've come a long way in two years," said Michelle Budzek, who helps oversee the Cincinnati/Hamilton County Continuum of Care for the Homeless.
The Homeless Outreach Group also grew out of the 2003 accord. The group meets monthly and tries to better coordinate outreach services.
"It prevents situations where two or three outreach workers might be focusing on the same homeless individual, while another one is not receiving any outreach," Budzek said.
Gregg Pieples, chairman of the Homeless Outreach Group, said that since 2003, officers often will point out hidden camps that may be unknown to service agencies.
"We don't feel that we have the same conflicts we did have with homeless advocates and outreach workers, and it seems like everyone is on the same page," Sgt. Maris Herold said.
Dialogue
Stoops said he was encouraged to hear that dialogue has been dialed up in Cincinnati -- No. 3 in the coalition's list of the "meanest cities" in 2004 based on criteria such as anti-homeless laws and the general political climate toward the homeless.
Stoops' coalition has cited Philadelphia, Minneapolis and Fort Lauderdale, Fla., as cities where similar efforts to improve police-outreach worker cooperation are underway.
Caveman and his friend Sandy, a 58-year-old homeless woman whose camp is nearby, don't plan to be part of that population much longer. They are trying to get to different parts of Florida, where they hope to find jobs and permanent housing.
"It's hard to find a place I can afford here, and it's not really safe," said Sandy, who goes by her first name only and has been living under a blue plastic tarpaulin stretched over some trees and the remains of an old dock.
"I knew three of the guys that died in the river," she said, tears rolling down her face. "I don't want to stay here any longer."