'We're all in the same bind'

May 5—TRAVERSE CITY — Crippled by arthritis and diabetes, 68-year-old Luis Asanza pushed a walker laden with his belongings down the Men's Trail in the Pines on Tuesday morning. His torn Crocs scuffed the dirt as he limped to his new "home" — a used tent, erected next to the trail so that he will be visible if trouble comes calling.

It's difficult to imagine where Asanza would be today if not for the kindness and generosity of Jerome Zwart, 67, a fellow resident of the city's only homeless shelter, Safe Harbor, which closed for the season last Tuesday.

Although Asanza speaks only a few words of English and Zwart speaks almost no Spanish, the two men bonded at Safe Harbor this winter.

So after using part of his $950-a-month disability check to buy Asanza a tent, a couple of small cots and some camping gear, Zwart loaded Asanza's possessions into his beat-up 2006 Dodge Caravan and drove him to the Pines, the sprawling homeless encampment along Division Street that sits in the shadow of Grand Traverse Commons.

Asked why he was going to such lengths to help Asanza when he wasn't even sure where he was going to spend the night, Zwart pointed to the sky. "We're supposed to love Him as we love ourselves," he said. "We're all in the same bind."

Zwart fussed for a few minutes inside the tent as Asanza, exhausted, gingerly lowered himself into a chair. Zwart noted that he bought Asanza two cots because he knew that he would have difficulty getting to his feet if he had to sleep on the ground.

"Call me if you need me," Zwart said as he shook Asanza's hand and prepared to depart. "Did you put my number in your phone?"

"I don't know how," Asanza replied in broken English.

Asanza handed Zwart his flip phone and Zwart typed in his phone number. Then the men shook hands again and Zwart trudged back to his van.

IMPROVING CONDITIONS IN THE PINES

Throughout the Pines, there were similar touching moments of kindness Tuesday. Displaced shelter residents — approximately 60 of them, according to a Goodwill Street Outreach coordinator — helped each other schlep their possessions to sites that might simultaneously afford a little privacy while also still being visible enough to be safe.

In spite of the efforts of Traverse City police, city officials, nonprofit and church volunteers and many concerned citizens who view the Pines as Traverse City's shame, northwestern Michigan's largest homeless encampment is not safe, nor is it sanitary.

Last year, two Pines residents died. Fights and drug use are common. Although there have been no deaths in the Pines this year, Traverse City police are frequent visitors, responding to 67 calls to the Pines since the beginning of this year.

Police Lt. Ryan Taylor commended Officer Krista Fryczynski, who is detailed to the Pines, saying, "I anticipate it getting a lot better ... out there."

With regard to the Pines' sanitation issues, because there are no portable toilets or public restrooms near the Pines, homeless residents have befouled the woods and the wetlands surrounding nearby Kids Creek, creating the potential for a public health crisis.

In response, City Manager Liz Vogel announced Thursday that the Grand Traverse Regional Community Foundation and other philanthropic organizations will contribute $50,000 toward the installation of two porta-johns, two sinks and two benches equipped with solar-powered charging stations for homeless residents' phones so that residents can maintain communication with providers who are helping them.

The city announced that the porta-johns, sinks and benches will be installed near the dumpster on 11th Street.

Taylor said police will install surveillance cameras to monitor that area in an effort to curb vandalism. "I honestly feel like it's going to improve safety for the residents, safety for the officers and improve safety for the people that want to use that park," he said. "I feel like this year is going to be a lot safer."

Because of the Pines' troubled past, Zwart decided that he would not move there after leaving Safe Harbor.

A retired Army veteran, Zwart said he had been living in an apartment in Gaylord, but that he gave it to his disabled daughter after she was evicted from her apartment. With nowhere else to go, he said he headed for Safe Harbor in Traverse City.

Zwart said he obtained a $910-a-month housing voucher, but couldn't find anywhere to live in Traverse City for less than $1,100 a month.

Asked what he planned to do after getting Asanza situated in the Pines, Zwart said, "I don't know. I have a van. I can sleep in it if I have to."

Smiling, he added, "God always gives me what I need when I need it."

'THEY DON'T HAVE GOALS'

Dustin McCracken moved into the Pines last October with his two huskies — 7-year-old Nanook and 2-year-old Sheava.

After spending what he described as a quiet and mostly conflict-free winter there, McCracken, 38, views the influx of new campers in the Pines with trepidation, saying the new residents will create a "circus."

"I'm kind of worried," he said. "Everyone has their own mindset. When people come out of Safe Harbor, they have the same mindset as when they went in.

"People have been taking care of them, so when they come out of Safe Harbor they have a lifestyle; they don't have goals."

McCracken's primary goal is to take care of his dogs. He accepts the fact that a major reason he hasn't been able to finding housing is because he refuses to part with them.

"I can't get housing because I have dogs," he said. "That's the reason I'm out here — because I won't give them up."

McCracken said he subsists by panhandling along Division Street. He said most of the money he collects goes to providing for Nanook and Sheava, who he said eat better than he does. He's OK with that.

He's also OK with calling the police when there's trouble. McCracken lives in the most densely populated area of the Pines, in the woods along 11th Street. Unlike most residents of the Pines, who subscribe to the maxim that "snitches get stitches," he said he's not worried about retaliation if he calls 911.

"For my safety, because I don't drink or do anything (drugs), I can't trust anybody that's drunk or under the influence," he said. "That's the job for the cops.

"If someone is threatening me ... or having a problem with my next-door neighbors, absolutely I will do whatever I can to keep this area ... the safest area."

'WE'RE FAMILY'

As Safe Harbor began emptying out early Tuesday morning, several women emerged from the shelter. They included Isra Martinez, who was fuming about how rudely homeless people are treated, including the fact that there are virtually no public restrooms available for the homeless.

"Asking people not to go to the bathroom is like asking them not to breathe," she said. "We are still human. Not everyone here is on drugs. There are bathrooms everywhere around here. But, if you look homeless, you can't go in them."

She also complained that some drivers on Eighth Street speed up as they approach crosswalks near Safe Harbor. As she was speaking, almost on cue, a man driving a black Mustang burned rubber as he veered around two homeless men who were crossing Wellington Street, where Safe Harbor is located.

Martinez, 45, said she wanted no part of living in the Pines, so she was searching for a ride to the Arbutus Lake State Forest Campground.

"It's $20 a night, but it has running water, it has a porta-john and you're able to have fire," she said. "That's another thing: people aren't allowed to have fire (in the Pines). Fire has been a right of mankind; it's the first tool we ever had. That's how you stay warm, that's how you cook food to keep from having salmonella."

Martinez said her sole source of income is a $930-a-month SSI check. She said she has a housing voucher and is on a waiting list to get an apartment in Annika Place, an affordable housing community on S. Garfield Road.

"Almost all of the apartments that used to be available to people like me are now Airbnbs," she said. "If you want to make a big dent in homelessness, they need to put more restrictions on Airbnbs. I know people working for the state who are considering being homeless because they cannot afford housing in this area."

As she finished speaking, she noticed a fellow Safe Harbor resident standing alone, looking forlorn. She rushed over to him and gave him a bear hug.

"This is family, right here," she said. "All us street people — we're family."