At a quarter to 9am Monday
, Jerry Vackers, lights a cigarette from the Mission Neighborhood Resource Center’s second floor balcony after his morning shower. His clean shave accentuates the black pores along his mouth.
“Capp Street’s known for three things: strong wind, drugs and prostitutes,” he says, looking down towards the Uptown Bar on 17th.
Behind him, a smooth skinned and toothless Salvador Benitiz, 42, tucks his harmonica into the pocket of his flannel shirt and puts on a black canvas apron with “Capp Street Clean Up” written in large white letters across the front before walking downstairs.
“I got myself in the right place at the right time,” he says with a heavy accent while walking outside, “and I’ve been in the wrong place for too long.”
Today is Benitiz’s first day with the Capp Street Clean Up program, an 11-week internship offered by the Center through a lottery to 4 community members. The group meets each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday between 9 and 9:30am to clean up litter and talk to businesses and homeowners along Capp between 16th and 17th Streets.
“I was one of the first interns when the program started 5 years ago,” says Vickers, 56, watching as Benitez is handed a trash bag, pair of rubber gloves and broom by the program’s director, Veronica Majana, on the sidewalk below.
“It only lasted 8 weeks back then and no one in the neighborhood liked us. We’d say ‘Good morning’ to them and they’d look at us like we were going to mug ‘em,” said Vickers, blowing smoke through two tuffs of blonde nose hair.
The Capp Street Clean Up internship began in earnest after The Mission Neighborhood Resource Center, a San Francisco homeless shelter and community center, received complaints from local business and homeowners who felt unsafe.
“None of these guys were talking to each other cause they were all afraid of each other,” said Majana, 42, between directing shouts to the new interns. “But once we got people on the street talkin’, they started looking out for each other. Then we got them talkin’ to people in the neighborhood, and then they started looking out for each other.
We got some lights put up outside of businesses and showed people that yeah, our interns are homeless and have drug problems, but if you talk to them you know that they ain’t violent. Now, I think most people here actually want them on the street keepin’ gangs n’ shit out.”
Majana, known on the street as “Vero” stands a hair over five feet with hard frown lines framing her face as two cop cars pull over at the end of the block. Vero has lived in the Mission all her life and worked with the homeless for the past15 years.
“I just like street culture, you know?” she said, “Some people like working with kids or cars. I guess I like working with middle-aged street folks. You gotta be real like a Buddhist with them. They really taught me to be telling the truth.”
“Hold on.” Vero says, as she steps to the left.
“Britton, don’t pick trash up with your hands. You wipe that shit on your clothes and then it gets on your face, an’ your face is too pretty. It ain’t worth it, man,” she says.
In a flash, Vero’s across the street shouting at the cops who have just taken one of the interns into the back of their car, “What you need Debbie for? Drugs ain’t violent. Sex ain’t violent. Come on man, she’s trying to clean up garbage. You got someone to clean up garbage for her?”
Down the street, Benitiz puts down his trash bag near 17th Street to show off his City College student ID to another intern as one of the cops lets Debbie out of the car. Debbie is noticeably shaking as she’s led into the Center.
“Don’t worry about her, man,” Benitiz says to the intern who has stopped his work to watch the cops getting back into their cars.
“Her problem’s either chemical or just deep,” Benitiz says unmoved, returning to his sweeping.
“On the first day, we say to our community members just show up and see what happens. Most people can’t show up on a regular basis to anything, so it’s a big accomplishment. There’s no outside business here and they can’t work if they’re too drunk or high to work,” says Vero as she collects aprons and congratulates the interns at 9:30am.
Benitiz takes the harmonica out of his pocket as he climbs the Center’s stairs to the second floor balcony where Vickers is finishing a cigarette with a case manager, Laura Crenten, 27.
“Not so bad, huh?” Vackers asks.
Benitez nods and lights a cigarette.
“On the last day of the program, we used to get 50 bucks a week, go to city council meetings and have a big breakfast at that fancy place, The Boogaloo. We got a lot harm reduction counseling too, which probably helped the most,” said Vackers, glancing at Crenten.
“I know I mess up a lot,” he says quickly.
“Na, Jerry, you and Salvador got a lot of heart,” says Crenten lighting another cigarette and waving Vickers goodbye.
“But I just got here, where are you running off to?” Benitiz asks Vackers.
“I got a lot of bottles downstairs to recycle. Well, better get a move on,” says Vickers nodding to Crenten from the top of the stairway.
Down the street, officer Brad McManigel, 34, sips coffee with JC Plumbing employee Paul Castil, 29, as Vackers passes.
The three briefly greet each other by first name.
“When people at the Center say ‘community members’ they mean homeless people, prostitutes and drug dealers,” said McManigel after Vackers as passed. ”They’re not referring to the families in the neighborhood that you never see because they’re too afraid to leave their apartments.
“I think it’s great that the Center’s offering medical treatment to these people, but I’d say about 99% of the violent crimes on Capp and 16th involve these ‘community members.’”
Castil shakes his head in agreement with McManigel, “I think it’s getting better though. I mean, Jerry’s cool. He’s in this place a lot. Comes in for water sometimes. I don’t know any other interns, but he’s cool.”
For more information abut the Mission Neighborhood Resource Center, please click here.
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Tags: community, homeless resources, neighborhoods, San Francisco homeless
