“You need a job!” Our 16-year-old son, Jonathan, was already bored and summer vacation had scarcely begun. The adventures that some of his north side school friends were planning all required money—money that he didn’t have and that we were not prepared to shell out. The kid needed a job. I told him so.
“I’m going over to the zoo,” he finally conceded after it was apparent that he was going to have to fund his own summer fun. Zoo Atlanta is a short walk from our house. They don’t pay much but do provide their employees with sharp uniforms and safari pith helmets. It was a wholesome environment for young people, so we were pleased at Jonathan’s decision.
Unbeknown to him, we knew one of the senior staff there, who we immediately called to alert for Jon’s arrival. “No special favors,” we insisted. But it came as no great surprise that Jonathan was immediately hired.
With money in his pocket, Jonathan could afford gas for our old Suburban, which became a rolling party packed full of frolicking school friends. On his off-work hours when he was not driving around town, you could find him down the street shooting hoops at the neighborhood basketball court. Some of his friends, particularly those from lower-income families, had more time on their hands than money in their pockets—a predicament the zoo had remedied for Jonathan. “They’re hiring at the zoo,” he told his unemployed buddies. “Put me down as a reference.” In no time five of his friends had jobs at the zoo.
We did not need a youth employment program in our neighborhood that summer. Nor the next. Or next. We had connected neighbors. We learned that if neighbors who had contacts were merely willing to share those contacts, willing to use their “insider” status to open a door for their neighbors, a funded and staffed job program was unnecessary. The same was true for adults. Those with good paying positions in stable companies had only to share the job openings posted on their bulletin boards in order for new and better opportunities to open up for their underemployed neighbors. Good neighbors are preferable to good programs any day. And they’re a whole lot cheaper.
The better our street functioned as a community, the less we seemed to need the support of externally funded programs. Take teen pregnancy, for example. The number of teenage girls in Georgia who become pregnant out of wedlock is epidemic. It is even worse in Atlanta. We have a lot of young girls on our street, most from single parent homes. Yet the rate of pregnancy among them is well below the national average (not to speak of Georgia). That’s not because we have a teen pregnancy prevention program. It’s because neighbors have made the commitment to keep an eye open for potential problems. More teenage girls conceive during the hours of 4 to 7 P.M. than any other time of the day (so says a Health and Human Services report). These are the most unsupervised hours when kids are out of school and parents are still at work.
One day while I was home from work in the midmorning, I glanced out the front window and saw our 15-year-old neighbor, Pamela, walking past with a male friend. I mentioned it to my wife, who reminded me that we had committed with our neighbors to notify parents if we observed friends coming by their homes when they were at work. We debated for a few moments about who should make the phone call. I lost. Somewhat reluctantly I pulled out the neighborhood directory and dialed the number. Pamela answered. I asked to speak to her mother. Not home. I asked for her dad but, of course, he was not home either. Was she home sick today? I probed in an innocent voice. No, Pamela fumbled, she had come home to, uh, pick up a book. I asked for her father’s work number and hung up.
“Dave, I don’t mean to be a nosy neighbor, but Pamela just came home from school with a male friend. You remember we agreed we would keep an eye out for each other’s kids. I hope this doesn’t feel like I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong.” Dave assured me that he appreciated my call. About three minutes after we hung up, Pamela and her friend came walking past our house on the way back to school. There is a reason why teen pregnancy is low in our urban neighborhood.
The same kind of community involvement can lower the crime rate in a neighborhood. Our street abuts a public housing project. We share the same police precinct. But if you compare the police response time on Walker Avenue (our street) with that of Trestle Tree Apartments, you would discover a marked difference. Same police, same command leadership, but very different performance.
Walker Avenue has an active neighborhood association. It’s more of a block club, really, that the 40 households have named Tapestry. The catalyst that initially pulled these families together was the need for a crime watch. Before we had a community name we had a common need—protection. Our area was plagued with crime, mostly break-ins and robberies by those who had to feed their drug habits.
One of our members, we discovered, had been with the military police in the Air Force and had some experience in law enforcement. His suggestion at our first community meeting was to invite the precinct commander to come and meet with us, give us tips on how to better protect ourselves, and tell us how to best support the work of the police who patrolled our street.
It turned out to be an excellent move. Not only did ranking police officers come to our meeting, but they also had some very practical tips on securing our homes and establishing a neighborhood watch. “If you see someone you don’t know lingering on your street, call a neighbor so that two sets of eyes are on the stranger,” they advised. “If he doesn’t move on, ask him if he is looking for someone. If his answer isn’t satisfactory, call us.”
Undoubtedly, the most significant outcome of this meeting was the cooperative relationship that was established between the community and the police. Neighbors began waving to the patrol cars as they cruised down Walker Avenue. Information flowed back and forth about recent break-ins and car thefts and other incidents of concern. The day the Pearce home was burglarized really put the relationship to the test.
The Pearces were eating supper when a man climbed through their bedroom window, scooped all the jewelry and money he could find into Dave Pearce’s brief case and slipped back out without being detected. Moments later the Pearces discovered the theft and immediately called the police.
Meanwhile, just down the street, another drama was playing out. Virgil Brown had just come out of his front door to bring his son’s bicycle in for the night and discovered it missing. Irate that someone had stolen the nearly new bike, Virgil jumped into his neighbor’s car since his was not running, and set out in search of the thief. A few blocks away he overtook a man peddling down the street on his son’s bicycle carrying a briefcase. The man, startled at being discovered, dropped the bike and briefcase and took off running across side yards and down a back alley. Virgil picked up the abandoned booty and headed back to Walker Avenue.
As he rounded the corner to home, Virgil saw several police cars and a host of neighbors gathered in front of the Pearce house. Stopping to inquire, he was told that someone had broken into their home and made off with a briefcase full of valuables. “He stole my son’s bike!” Virgil could hardly contain himself. “I have the stuff in my trunk. I saw the guy. I know where he is!”
Virgil led a convoy of the police cruisers to the spot where he had recovered the stolen merchandize and pointed them in the direction the thief had run. In a matter of moments police had the perpetrator in cuffs. They brought him back to the Pearces to see if anyone beside Virgil could make a positive identification. In spite of the man’s threatening glares, several of the neighbors identified him as the one they had seen walking down the street with the briefcase. All said they would testify.
Three times neighbors took off work to appear as witnesses in court. And three times the perpetrator’s lawyer requested continuances, a tactic designed to discourage witnesses and weaken the prosecution’s case. Finally the judge said “no more” and the trial went forward. The man was convicted of the crime and is serving seven years. This incident cemented the relationship between the community and the police. Nothing is more demoralizing to the police than, after expending much effort to bring a predator to justice, to see him walk out of court with a smirk on his face because witnesses failed to show up.
This is one reason why the police response is so indifferent to the government-subsidized Trestle Tree Apartments. It is difficult to get straight stories there. People are afraid. Some will cover for known offenders because of family relationships or other entanglements. It’s tough police work. But even when the police do manage to apprehend a perpetrator, it is very difficult to get witnesses to show up in court. Consequently, there is little motivation to “serve and protect.” It’s not right, but it is understandable. The key to a safe environment is not more police on the streets—the key is more effective community.
All this is not to say, of course, that programs and services are not needed in a community. On the contrary. The Boys’ and Girls’ Clubs, the city Parks and Recreation facilities, the Police Athletic Leagues—such programs that provide wholesome places and activities for residents serve to enhance the quality of life. Programs are important, but by themselves they are not sufficient.
The extent to which programs and services are run by those who live in the community will often be a measure of their effectiveness. If teachers live in the neighborhood where they teach and are known by the parents whose children they teach, they are far more likely to be involved in other aspects of their students’ lives besides classroom performance. If police live in the apartment complex they are responsible to patrol, they will be far more aware of safety issues there than they would be in an area they view mostly from their cruiser window.
Being invested in one’s community—and living there—yields the fruit of healthy self-interest. Initiatives owned by residents are likely to be more effective, personal, accountable and cost-effective than those funded and managed by outside professionals.