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Jan. 28th, 2011 07:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drewkittyThis is my yearly "Down The Rabbit Hole" post. Most of them are fairly dark. This one is a conscious departure from the norm.
Previous years:
2005: GlobAll War Of Terror
2006: Security & Space
2007: In The Hole, Spectacularly Not Winning
2008: nonfiction break "The Power of Nightmares," a censored film about Islamic and Christian fundamentalism
2009: America Back To Work
2010: War of Terror: On The Front Line
I am wearing comfortable business casual clothing. The type that allows me to be slightly underdressed for the corporate suites, slightly overdressed for the street, but blend in everywhere. For this job it is my camouflage.
I get off the MUNI at one of the surface rail stations in "our" neighborhood. The paycheck I just cashed is from "Community Trust" and my job title, to the extent I have or need one, is "Compliance Manager: Safety Operations." I report to the Contracts Director.
This was the worst neighborhood in San Francisco. The police didn't come out here. Therefore neither did the fire department and its paramedics, or the ambulance, or the public works. "Broken Windows" theory written large in fact, underscored by graffiti. Violence was endemic and the community overwhelmed by poverty, homelessness, unemployment and just plain despair.
The police still don't come out here. We still have graffiti. But now it is OUR graffiti.
It is a contract requirement of my position that I live where I work.
A large mural takes up the wall of the building. It is a street scene, artfully designed so that portions of the mural can be (and are) used as graffiti by less experienced artists. The permanent parts of the mural are coated with an easy to clean transparent enamel. The "walls" of the street scene, frequently marked up, are more of a first come, first serve.
As I watch, two local kids are openly tagging the scene with paintbrushes; they aren't allowed to have markers on MUNI, and state law forbids paint cans.
The street guard watches benignly. He works for a consortium of private security companies who provide manpower to Community Trust on a ratio basis. The percentage of the contract each company gets is based on a weighted average of turnover. Send us good guards, get more of the business. Send us slugs, we send them back, your percentage dwindles. We started with 20% of the business reserved for minority subcontractors. The percentage is now 65% -- performance based.
The street guard wears a reflective jacket and custom pants with a stripe down each leg. He carries a radio, cell phone, handcuffs, flashlight, protective gloves, notepad and pens, pepper foam, the usual. He also carries give-away maps of the area and an iPad with extended life battery. The latter is for giving directions and post orders specifically instruct him to use it to look up directions for people, etc.
The radio monitors local police and fire frequencies and transmits on Community Watch as well as the guard dispatch frequency. Community Watch is a shared frequency which all of the safety personnel in the community use, paid and volunteer. Most stores have it on a scanner at the register.
The street guard's job is to walk his beat and deal with what is there, calling for help with anything he or she can't handle. Friendly, helpful, paid for by the Community Trust's Business Improvement Tax. Working with and for the community. Not incidentally, also a resident of the community.
He looks sharp and alert. He sees me watching him. He walks over and greets me, looking me up and down and correctly seeing the bulge under my left arm. His eyes narrow slightly but he says nothing.
I ask for directions to the nearest public restroom. He gives them.
I head that way. About a minute later, I hear a buzz from my phone -- the page going out on CW. Good.
The public restroom is a purpose-built structure in the corner of a half-lot that looks much like a public park. It is not, a discussion we have sometimes with Parks and Rec when they try to take credit. Three single-user facilities. I check each of the three. Clean, well-lit, toilet paper and soap. I use the third.
When I come out, there is a different street guard loitering about fifty feet away and two San Francisco Patrol Specials waiting for me in contact-and-cover position. Correctly tactical.
"Good evening, sir, we'd like to talk to you for a minute."
I turn, casually keeping my hands in plain sight. "Sure, what can I do for you?"
Both are armed with .40 caliber semiautomatic pistols. The contact officer is empty-handed, friendly, personable. The cover officer is standing slightly to the side with his hand hovering out of my sight, just over the butt of his firearm. It is a drill. He can draw and engage in less than three seconds.
"Would you mind telling us what you are carrying under your arm?"
I smile.
"I am carrying a Taser."
"You have the right to refuse, but would you mind if we take a look at it please?"
I pretend to think about it.
"Sure, no problem," and start to reach for it.
The contact officer immediately, forcefully says "STOP!" and I freeze. Even expecting it, the sudden command shatters the peace. I don't have to look to know that the cover officer has drawn down.
"Sir. Please keep your hands away from your weapon. Allow me to look, if you would."
He moves forward and moves my jacket out of the way. He sees that it is indeed a Taser in my shoulder holster.
"Thank you, sir, and thank you for your time. Is there anything I can help you with tonight?"
"No, you've helped me quite enough. I'm going to reach into my left rear pocket and get out my business card."
I do so and hand it to him. He duck-walks back a pace and reads it, then offers it back.
"No, keep it. Nicely done, good tactics. Very courteous."
It is lawful, with a permit, in the City and County of San Francisco to carry a concealed, loaded firearm. Permits used to be very, very hard to get. Not so much. Using a quirk in residency laws and a cooperative rural sheriff in another state, plus the new national CCW reciprocity, a CCW permit is now effectively "shall issue" for those who meet CT's requirements. The only one that is not a rubber-stamp: five personal letters of recommendation.
If five law abiding persons of good character will speak for you, the odds that you are also of good character are very, very high.
I have such a permit. I rarely feel the need. That itself is a measure of our progress, in the 'worst neighborhood in the City.'
If I had been lawfully carrying a concealed firearm, I would have immediately disclosed it to the Patrol Specials. If I had then refused their request for inspection, they would have radioed for a SFPD officer to conduct a check -- their radios transmit on both CW and police frequencies.
If I had been unlawfully carrying a handgun -- the object of the exercise -- the Patrol Specials would have backed off, then politely hovered nearby until an SFPD officer arrived.
It is really hard to effectively mug or shoot someone while armed Patrol Specials are watching you.
One Patrol Special has been murdered in line of duty on the CT account. One of the community centers is named for her. Her assailant did not outlive her for more than a few minutes, despite the CPR grudgingly provided.
The homicide rate in this neighborhood is half the city average, and less than a quarter of what it had been. She did not die in vain.
I have just tested the jaws and the teeth of the CT anti-violence program. It is a part of my job.
When Community Trust was formed, we realized that our first problem was to put a stop to the circle of violence, both inside and outside the home. The techniques for stopping street violence are well understood and work from Boston to Budapest.
Violence in the home is not amenable to street patrol tactics. A different set of techniques is required, with equal if not greater diligence in their application.
So many parents in this community are in the first cycle, where they themselves were abused as children. Raising their children to lead a better life is the great challenge. Otherwise all we have done is create a more efficiently run prison to sweep the violence out of the gutter and into the bedrooms and cribs.
That's a huge job, which mine only touches from time to time -- guards for community centers, neighborhood watch programs aimed not at 'strangers' but at helping each other in times of crisis, counselors and mental health advocates, and a strong multi-tiered physical and mental health program built from the "Healthy Communities" project and ObamaCare.
The third piece is economic. This is a community and economy that looks within, that spends lavishly within but only grudgingly without. So many poor communities are enclaves where welfare and food stamp money pours in and pours right back out, to absentee landlords and national supermarket chains and drugstores.
Community Trust has consciously, deliberately worked to redirect the flow. We -- and "we" means the community in this case -- own and run the apartment complexes. We offer the reverse mortgages to the elderly -- and not just cash, but health care and hospice. That meant going head to head with national banks and the Powers That Be. Community Trust Credit Union: Don't Borrow Your Home From A Stranger. We not only sell the goods but source them. "Think Globally, Act Locally" is our mantra and we mean it.
The problems solve each other. Empty homes mean housing we can fill. Empty space and abandoned buildings means parks and community centers. High unemployment means endless opportunity to create jobs that serve our community, our needs, our people. Excessive regulation means overworked bureaucrats countered by a much larger array of determined, well organized people who find the loopholes and lobby for the exceptions.
You just have to be smart. That, we're working on.
Previous years:
2005: GlobAll War Of Terror
2006: Security & Space
2007: In The Hole, Spectacularly Not Winning
2008: nonfiction break "The Power of Nightmares," a censored film about Islamic and Christian fundamentalism
2009: America Back To Work
2010: War of Terror: On The Front Line
I am wearing comfortable business casual clothing. The type that allows me to be slightly underdressed for the corporate suites, slightly overdressed for the street, but blend in everywhere. For this job it is my camouflage.
I get off the MUNI at one of the surface rail stations in "our" neighborhood. The paycheck I just cashed is from "Community Trust" and my job title, to the extent I have or need one, is "Compliance Manager: Safety Operations." I report to the Contracts Director.
This was the worst neighborhood in San Francisco. The police didn't come out here. Therefore neither did the fire department and its paramedics, or the ambulance, or the public works. "Broken Windows" theory written large in fact, underscored by graffiti. Violence was endemic and the community overwhelmed by poverty, homelessness, unemployment and just plain despair.
The police still don't come out here. We still have graffiti. But now it is OUR graffiti.
It is a contract requirement of my position that I live where I work.
A large mural takes up the wall of the building. It is a street scene, artfully designed so that portions of the mural can be (and are) used as graffiti by less experienced artists. The permanent parts of the mural are coated with an easy to clean transparent enamel. The "walls" of the street scene, frequently marked up, are more of a first come, first serve.
As I watch, two local kids are openly tagging the scene with paintbrushes; they aren't allowed to have markers on MUNI, and state law forbids paint cans.
The street guard watches benignly. He works for a consortium of private security companies who provide manpower to Community Trust on a ratio basis. The percentage of the contract each company gets is based on a weighted average of turnover. Send us good guards, get more of the business. Send us slugs, we send them back, your percentage dwindles. We started with 20% of the business reserved for minority subcontractors. The percentage is now 65% -- performance based.
The street guard wears a reflective jacket and custom pants with a stripe down each leg. He carries a radio, cell phone, handcuffs, flashlight, protective gloves, notepad and pens, pepper foam, the usual. He also carries give-away maps of the area and an iPad with extended life battery. The latter is for giving directions and post orders specifically instruct him to use it to look up directions for people, etc.
The radio monitors local police and fire frequencies and transmits on Community Watch as well as the guard dispatch frequency. Community Watch is a shared frequency which all of the safety personnel in the community use, paid and volunteer. Most stores have it on a scanner at the register.
The street guard's job is to walk his beat and deal with what is there, calling for help with anything he or she can't handle. Friendly, helpful, paid for by the Community Trust's Business Improvement Tax. Working with and for the community. Not incidentally, also a resident of the community.
He looks sharp and alert. He sees me watching him. He walks over and greets me, looking me up and down and correctly seeing the bulge under my left arm. His eyes narrow slightly but he says nothing.
I ask for directions to the nearest public restroom. He gives them.
I head that way. About a minute later, I hear a buzz from my phone -- the page going out on CW. Good.
The public restroom is a purpose-built structure in the corner of a half-lot that looks much like a public park. It is not, a discussion we have sometimes with Parks and Rec when they try to take credit. Three single-user facilities. I check each of the three. Clean, well-lit, toilet paper and soap. I use the third.
When I come out, there is a different street guard loitering about fifty feet away and two San Francisco Patrol Specials waiting for me in contact-and-cover position. Correctly tactical.
"Good evening, sir, we'd like to talk to you for a minute."
I turn, casually keeping my hands in plain sight. "Sure, what can I do for you?"
Both are armed with .40 caliber semiautomatic pistols. The contact officer is empty-handed, friendly, personable. The cover officer is standing slightly to the side with his hand hovering out of my sight, just over the butt of his firearm. It is a drill. He can draw and engage in less than three seconds.
"Would you mind telling us what you are carrying under your arm?"
I smile.
"I am carrying a Taser."
"You have the right to refuse, but would you mind if we take a look at it please?"
I pretend to think about it.
"Sure, no problem," and start to reach for it.
The contact officer immediately, forcefully says "STOP!" and I freeze. Even expecting it, the sudden command shatters the peace. I don't have to look to know that the cover officer has drawn down.
"Sir. Please keep your hands away from your weapon. Allow me to look, if you would."
He moves forward and moves my jacket out of the way. He sees that it is indeed a Taser in my shoulder holster.
"Thank you, sir, and thank you for your time. Is there anything I can help you with tonight?"
"No, you've helped me quite enough. I'm going to reach into my left rear pocket and get out my business card."
I do so and hand it to him. He duck-walks back a pace and reads it, then offers it back.
"No, keep it. Nicely done, good tactics. Very courteous."
It is lawful, with a permit, in the City and County of San Francisco to carry a concealed, loaded firearm. Permits used to be very, very hard to get. Not so much. Using a quirk in residency laws and a cooperative rural sheriff in another state, plus the new national CCW reciprocity, a CCW permit is now effectively "shall issue" for those who meet CT's requirements. The only one that is not a rubber-stamp: five personal letters of recommendation.
If five law abiding persons of good character will speak for you, the odds that you are also of good character are very, very high.
I have such a permit. I rarely feel the need. That itself is a measure of our progress, in the 'worst neighborhood in the City.'
If I had been lawfully carrying a concealed firearm, I would have immediately disclosed it to the Patrol Specials. If I had then refused their request for inspection, they would have radioed for a SFPD officer to conduct a check -- their radios transmit on both CW and police frequencies.
If I had been unlawfully carrying a handgun -- the object of the exercise -- the Patrol Specials would have backed off, then politely hovered nearby until an SFPD officer arrived.
It is really hard to effectively mug or shoot someone while armed Patrol Specials are watching you.
One Patrol Special has been murdered in line of duty on the CT account. One of the community centers is named for her. Her assailant did not outlive her for more than a few minutes, despite the CPR grudgingly provided.
The homicide rate in this neighborhood is half the city average, and less than a quarter of what it had been. She did not die in vain.
I have just tested the jaws and the teeth of the CT anti-violence program. It is a part of my job.
When Community Trust was formed, we realized that our first problem was to put a stop to the circle of violence, both inside and outside the home. The techniques for stopping street violence are well understood and work from Boston to Budapest.
Violence in the home is not amenable to street patrol tactics. A different set of techniques is required, with equal if not greater diligence in their application.
So many parents in this community are in the first cycle, where they themselves were abused as children. Raising their children to lead a better life is the great challenge. Otherwise all we have done is create a more efficiently run prison to sweep the violence out of the gutter and into the bedrooms and cribs.
That's a huge job, which mine only touches from time to time -- guards for community centers, neighborhood watch programs aimed not at 'strangers' but at helping each other in times of crisis, counselors and mental health advocates, and a strong multi-tiered physical and mental health program built from the "Healthy Communities" project and ObamaCare.
The third piece is economic. This is a community and economy that looks within, that spends lavishly within but only grudgingly without. So many poor communities are enclaves where welfare and food stamp money pours in and pours right back out, to absentee landlords and national supermarket chains and drugstores.
Community Trust has consciously, deliberately worked to redirect the flow. We -- and "we" means the community in this case -- own and run the apartment complexes. We offer the reverse mortgages to the elderly -- and not just cash, but health care and hospice. That meant going head to head with national banks and the Powers That Be. Community Trust Credit Union: Don't Borrow Your Home From A Stranger. We not only sell the goods but source them. "Think Globally, Act Locally" is our mantra and we mean it.
The problems solve each other. Empty homes mean housing we can fill. Empty space and abandoned buildings means parks and community centers. High unemployment means endless opportunity to create jobs that serve our community, our needs, our people. Excessive regulation means overworked bureaucrats countered by a much larger array of determined, well organized people who find the loopholes and lobby for the exceptions.
You just have to be smart. That, we're working on.
