By Rick Stanton
My bride and I boarded a Washington State Ferry on April 3 for the 12:25pm sailing from Bainbridge Island. We were headed to Virginia Mason Hospital, where she was scheduled to have a medical procedure.
I was along to provide moral support and a ride home, but mostly the support. Upon arrival at Colman Dock, we walked the gauntlet that is the passenger overpass. Ah, the smell of urine at lunchtime.
Walking up First to Madison, and then east up the hills to VM, we witnessed a profane confrontation between two drunks, a man passed out at a bus stop between Fifth and Sixth with vomit down the front of him, and a guy and a gal shooting up in broad daylight at Eighth and Madison.
Upon arriving at the hospital, we talked with the nurse about the procedure, I give her my cell number (God forbid, something goes wrong) and asked if it was OK to take a walk, instead of just hanging out in the waiting area. “Just be back by 2:45,” the nurse ordered.
Out the door I went, cell on and a desire to stroll by maybe my favorite office ever— the Carriage House of the Stimson-Green Mansion. I always loved the address; 1212 Minor. That, along with the eccentric, somewhat funky nature of the Carriage House, made it a perfect ad agency home in the ’80s.
Walking east up Madison to Minor, there were no reinforcements of the claim that Seattle Is Dying—until I get to the Mansion. Needles were strewn along the curbside and in the street.
After standing in front of the Carriage House for a bit, breathing in the memories, I decided to head farther east, up to supposedly gentrified Broadway. I’ve lived around here long enough to see Capitol Hill, like Belltown, be cool and then become dangerous. Broadway is cool again. And it’s also dangerous, at the same time.
I saw countless homeless, mostly young, more needles and was panhandled to the point that I had my hand on my pepper spray. I walked all the way north to where one of my favorite joints, The Deluxe, used to be. As a poor, starving UW student, the $4.50 steak, baked-potato special and one-buck pitcher of beer was like manna from heaven.
The walk back to VM and then to the ferry with my bride was more of the same. The overall experience was just more proof that Seattle government has its head up its butt. And why do I continue to hammer this point, as a guy who lives on beautiful Bainbridge Island? I’ll tell you why.
As an ad man, I was forced to be a student of the pop culture of the time. I watched TV I hated. I listened to radio that made my skin crawl. And I tried to immerse myself in things that mattered to my clients’ demos. It conditioned me to look at problems from other peoples’ perspectives.
Living on Bainbridge, it would be easy to laugh and say, “Glad it’s not my problem.” But it’s everyone’s problem. And let’s begin by dissecting the word “homeless”—which is being defined way too broadly.
In my view, there are two very different types of “homeless”: People who were victims of the Great Recession, or whatever the hell else happens to good people—lost their job, had some kind of medical crisis, were awash in credit-card debt and living month-to-month finally caught up with them… Let’s do everything we can to help those people and restore their dignity.
Then there are the drug addicts, drug dealers and petty criminals, who hide in the too-broad shadows of homelessness. These are the ones who break into homes and businesses and scare the hell out of people while panhandling, so they can continue the circle of self- enslavement that is their current lot in life.
The latter group compromises and steals from any potential good that millions of dollars in public programs might provide. And they will continue to—until our local governments have the backbone to say, “Enough is enough!”
Watch Seattle Is Dying again, fast forward to the Rhode Island story and ask yourself, why the hell Seattle and King County and Washington State haven’t come to the realization that there’s a blueprint for some modicum of success?
And, for the sake of everyone, let the police do their job. Arrest and prosecute criminals, and send the word that this is “Freeattle” no longer.
Rick Stanton has written thoughtful articles on the Seattle street mess. Leaving the bromides and statistical charts behind and simply walking around is a good way to honestly and personally confront what is a serious issue. It is complicated, but a city that wants to be great deals with tough issues. Many years ago, while in grad school,I had the opportunity to work for what was then called the Welfare Department, given a Skid Road caseload. At the time, it was mostly single men, out of pocket, sick, mentally ill, often suffering alcohol and/or drug abuse, with the occasional family unit in a tough spot. Clearly, that is not the profile today when one can feel threatened and horrified just by walking the streets of the Emerald City. With leadership that might walk around and stop philosophizing the matter there could be a new priority to recapture the good health of Seattle.
Another great article about our beloved dying Seattle! Will a newly revamped city council solve our many problems? Well, we had hoped a new mayor would help and look what that got us. “Problems? We ain’t got no stinking problems!”
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