PERSPECTIVE: Taking back the territory
How Point Douglas said no to crackandcrime
Updated: May 4 at 07:59 AM CDT
Sel Burrows frowns as he surveys a dilapidated, abandoned two-storey home on Euclid Street. According to a city bylaw, plywood must be fitted to cover the entire opening of the windows of abandoned homes. The plywood on this house has been installed improperly, and Burrows, chairman of the Point Douglas Residents Committee, isn't about to let it pass.
"I'm going to have to phone that one in," he says with disdain. "You've got to keep on top of every little thing."
Burrows, who is now retired, devotes an enormous amount of time to gathering information for police and provincial justice officials on crack houses, gang activity and other criminal behaviour in North Point Douglas, one of Winnipeg's most historic and troubled inner-city neighborhoods.
Real-time intelligence from area residents is transmitted to the committee via email. From there, Burrows and other members of the committee contact Winnipeg police or the provincial justice department's Public Safety Investigations Unit for immediate action.
The results of this new relationship between residents of North Point Douglas and authorities has been dramatic. The residents committee reports that through police raids and pressure on landlords, 30 crack houses have been shut down in the last eight months, an accomplishment that significantly reduced the constellation of prostitutes, gangs and petty thieves that circle the illicit drug industry.
Residents report that total crime is down more than 70 per cent over the past year. Winnipeg police won't confirm that number, but they acknowledge crime has gone down substantially.
Neighborhoods such as Point Douglas are often the staging grounds for community efforts to "take back the streets" from the criminal element. More often than not, however, after an initial flurry of activity and media attention, residents have little to show for their good intentions.
The residents of Point Douglas claim this time they have seen a real turnaround, and they have evidence to back that up. Now, renovated and restored homes outnumber abandoned ones. Residents claim more children can be seen playing outside and that they are free to walk the streets any time, day or night.
The most remarkable aspect of this story is the turnaround took less than a year.
It was just last June that children from Norquay School in Point Douglas made national headlines when they appealed to Gov. Gen. Michaelle Jean, in town for an official visit, for help in ridding their neighborhood of crime. Burrows said the anguished pleas of the school children became a catalyst for residents to take matters into their own hands. The result has been what Point Douglas residents now believe is a quiet revolution to take back their neighborhood from gangs and drug dealers.
"There were people in various parts of the neighborhood who didn't feel safe," Burrows said. "It started an interesting dialogue. There were some people who said we shouldn't do anything. Others felt we needed to speak up."
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It is the safe port in any storm.
The North Point Douglas Women's Centre, a tidy two-storey stucco storefront, sits at the convergence of Austin Street, Euclid Avenue and Lusted Avenue. It's a bustling, oddly shaped intersection that serves as a sort of epicentre of North Point Douglas, the main street of a community that long ago lost its business district.
Inside the women's centre, children huddle around two computer terminals. A woman quietly enjoys a cup of coffee. The centre is calm, ordered and, above all, a safe haven from the domestic conflicts that have afflicted this community.
"We help people resolve their conflicts peacefully," executive director Elaine Bishop says. "We teach people about conflict and the skills that will show them we can be a real community."
It wasn't always a safe haven. In a stroke of ultimate irony, the women's centre used to be Brother's Grocery, a store once known as the most notorious sniff supplier in Winnipeg. Point Douglas residents tell of how, in the bad old days, sniff addicts came from all over the north end and downtown to visit a grocery store that was short on groceries and long on solvents and other aromatic chemicals addicts used for a quick fix.
After years of protesting, picketing and pleading with city and provincial authorities to do something, neighborhood activists came up with a different plan: They would buy the dilapidated property and turn it into a women's centre. In 2002, after vigorous negotiations with the owners, the grocery was purchased for $38,000, money assembled from city and provincial urban renewal programs. Sweat equity and donated building materials helped transform Brother's Grocery and sparked the creation of an organization committed to the betterment of the neighborhood.
SISTARS -- Sisters Initiating Steps Towards a Renewed Society -- was born over coffee on the ground floor of the women's centre as the literal and metaphorical antithesis to Brother's Grocery. The women involved in the creation of the community economic development corporation saw many needs -- job training, child care, education -- and decided then and there to take on the projects.
SISTARS established a child-care centre in the basement of the Philippine Senior's Centre. Then, a deal was struck with Red River College to develop an early childhood education program at the child care centre to train local students. SISTARS is now working on the final stages of a project called The Hub, a $2.7-million social service centre that will feature child care, art studios and space for seniors. SISTARS has already struck a deal with the city to acquire a parcel of land next to historic Barber House.
The Hub marked an important step forward for the community, but lurking over the project was the reality that North Point Douglas remained what many believed was a virtually lawless neighborhood. Sandy Dzedzora, chairwoman of SISTARS and a long-time community activist, said that despite their successes, residents had been unable to find a way to stop the community from evolving from a once proud and affluent neighborhood of immigrant families into a den of criminal activity.
"When I first moved into the community, there were still many of the old Ukrainian families living in the area," said Dzedzora. "Unfortunately, one Ukrainian lady who lived near me had a stroke, and the house became vacant. Slowly, another house would become vacant and on and on. Landlords moved in and bought the homes cheap, and they rented them out to the dealers and the gangs. I didn't want to be driven out of my own neighborhood, but we didn't know what to do."
In June 2007, when children from Norquay School read a letter to Gov. Gen. Michaelle Jean pleading for help, some of the women in the neighborhood decided to invite other concerned citizens out for a "security stroll," a protest where residents could show they were ready to stand up to the dealers and gangs.
Only a dozen people showed up.
Depressed over the turnout, Dzedzora and several friends went back Chris and Sel Burrows' home to talk strategy.
"I remember, as we were talking," Dzedzora said, "I said, 'When you live in a community, you get to know what's going on on your street. I know there are five crack houses on my street alone.'
"And then, as we talked more about it, we realized there were people like that on every street. If we could somehow get those street reps to keep an eye out, we'd be able to do something."
That conversation gave birth to a safety subcommittee of the resident's committee, and the Point Douglas Powerline, an e-mail account that allowed residents to send tips about criminal activity to members of the residents committee. Then specific complaints could be made to the police with the hope of getting rapid response.
The response to Powerline was beyond anyone's expectations.
"A huge number of people responded when we set up Powerline," Sel Burrows said. "These were people who didn't want to call the police; they didn't want to call Crimestoppers. Some had had bad experiences with the police. Others had criminal records and didn't want the attention. But they would e-mail us so that we could pass on the information."
Now, more than 40 people are involved in regularly reporting criminal activity to Powerline. "I still don't know who some of them are. My wife Chris has all the information about identities locked away. Some of them have had trouble with the law before and don't feel comfortable dealing with police. Many have never been to one of our meetings."
Now that he had the information, he had to figure out what to do with it. Burrows -- who has worked in recreation, corrections, community development and politics -- took it upon himself to study every bylaw, regulation and anti-crime program that might address the problems Point Douglas was facing. Burrows discovered there were a lot of tools available, from bylaws governing abandoned buildings to provincial programs to shut down crack houses. Unfortunately, Burrows said, whenever he called someone about a problem, he got little interest. It appeared as Point Douglas' reputation grew worse, the authorities had simply given up on the neighborhood.
"I realized the bylaws weren't all that bad," Burrows said. "So I went to the city inspectors to ask them why they weren't dealing with this problem of abandoned buildings. No one was taking care of these buildings, and dealers and addicts had snuck in. No one was making sure they were sealed up properly.
"But when I called the city, the reaction was horrible. I showed one inspector a building that was not properly sealed up. He said it was 'satisfactory for the neighborhood.' I said, 'no, the bylaw is the bylaw. It should be the same for every part of the city'."
Out of frustration, Burrows decided to call in some markers. Burrows once worked as former NDP Premier Ed Schreyer's executive assistant. He called some old friends including Justice Minister Dave Chomiak. That plea for help ended up on the desk of a justice department official whose job it was to co-ordinate aboriginal and municipal law enforcement. He was a former senior Winnipeg police officer.
His name was Keith McCaskill.
*****
Winnipeg Police Chief Keith McCaskill strolls into the media briefing room, all broad smiles and handshakes. For many journalists, McCaskill represents a bit of an enigma; his easy-going style and gift for the gab stands in dramatic contrast to his predecessor, Jack Ewatski, a cop of few words who, when confronted by the media, often assumed the tightly wound posture of a hostage forced to read a ransom note.
Newly installed as Winnipeg's top cop, McCaskill has a lot to say about crime, community policing and the relationship between his force and citizens. When Point Douglas is raised, and specifically the role he played in helping the resident's fight back against the crack dealers, McCaskill immediately begins to wave his hand.
McCaskill is aware Point Douglas residents, including Burrows, believe he was a catalyst for what has transpired, but he rejects that out of hand.
"I think they're being very, very flattering," McCaskill said. "I think you have to give the credit to the community. They spearheaded it. They started coming up with the issues and ideas. All I did was be part of that."
McCaskill and the residents will agree that in the late summer of 2007, several months before he became police chief, he accepted an invitation to have coffee at a small Chinese restaurant in Point Douglas to talk about problems the community faced and possible solutions. Burrows said he complained it was difficult to get any special attention from the police who appeared reluctant to respond to calls in Point Douglas. McCaskill saw an opportunity.
He called some of his former colleagues at the District 3 office and "encouraged" them to go to Point Douglas and meet with Burrows. Following a meeting with the District 3 patrol sergeant, there was a tacit agreement that if residents could provide police with solid information, they would get a direct line to police who in turn would respond in a more robust fashion.
"That particular officer took ownership of that, working with Sel and developing a relationship," McCaskill said.
But that was only half the problem. Burrows said the slow, simmering criminal activity that transpired in the crack houses was difficult for police to see and therefore difficult to shut down. In large part, that is why the province passed the Safer Communities and Neighborhoods Act and created the Public Safety Investigations Unit. The act allows the PSIU to perform surveillance on suspected crack houses. If there is evidence of drug or gang activity, police can raid the house and the province can force landlords to evict tenants involved in criminal activity.
Between the PSIU, police raids and direct appeals from the residents committee to landlords of crack houses, Burrows said 30 drug dens have been shut down. Contrary to claims by some -- including Mayor Sam Katz -- Point Douglas is not "crack free." But many residents believe the tide has turned.
"This is a huge problem, and it's always going to be around in one form or another," said Burrows. "But we feel we have the bad guys on the run. We really feel we're back in control now."
*****
On a bitterly cold night in late February, a 15-year-old girl was thrown out of a house party in Point Douglas, barefoot, without a coat. The loud gathering had already attracted the attention of neighbours, who heard the stranded girl scream to be let back in, and called 911. One of the neighbours also rushed outside and provided the girl with a blanket and kept her warm until police and an ambulance arrived. The police shut down the party and made sure the girl was taken to hospital.
But before they left the neighborhood, the cops visited two of the neighbors who had called 911.
"They stopped just to say thanks," said Burrows. "Can you imagine that?"
If attitude is worth anything, the residents of Point Douglas have certainly turned a corner. Where once only a dozen people showed up to an event to take back the streets, now more than 100 regularly attend rallies and community celebrations.
McCaskill is hoping to export some of the Point Douglas experience to other inner city neighborhoods facing the same challenges. He is loathe to prescribe any specific solution for any community but expressed a hope other communities see the simplicity and logic in what Point Douglas has done.
McCaskill said a police force can only do so much without the active participation of the public. Blitzing a crime-infested neighborhood with cops is effective, but only as long as the presence is maintained; once resources are moved on to the next troubled neighborhood, the criminals resume their activity. Citizens have to remember they outnumber the bad guys.
"There's no secret that in certain areas of the city, crime is too much," McCaskill said. "But the majority of people in those areas are law-abiding citizens. All they want to do is raise their kids, and let their kids walk out on to the street and not be molested and not be co-opted into gangs.
"If you've got a majority of citizens who want these things, if you can mobilize those citizens, you can make a huge difference. But it's got to be community driven."
Residents also appear committed to the idea of continuing the fight. Sandy Dzedzora said long-time residents know they must be vigilant, because there is always going to be a crime problem. But there is a sense now that there is a way to win the war.
"We took back our community," she said.
"I don't know how to explain it all. It was our quiet revolution."
dan.lett@freepress.mb.ca
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