When the coronavirus pandemic hit Portland, the city substantially cut back on camp sweeps to allow people experiencing homelessness to shelter in place. With sweeps on pause, camps have popped up in unusual places, and some have grown.
When Street Roots sent me out to photograph them, I was excited with trepidation. Imagine if you were dropping in on a total stranger living in a tent on the sidewalk, who might not have showered in days. Why trust me with my camera, asking to take photos?
I’ve found, over the years, that the best approach is honesty and respect. It doesn’t hurt to be able to drop the Street Roots name. They all know Street Roots.
I met many people who said they hadn’t heard of one case of the virus in the city’s homeless population. As of Friday, Multnomah County reported that 25 people who had tested positive for coronavirus had been homeless within the past year, out of 4,401 total cases in the county. Many people I met while capturing the camps said they wear masks, sometimes.
Of the six camps I visited, from Southeast Hawthorne to Delta Park, everyone had a spirit of humbleness and giving. Campers were productive, keeping themselves busy in ways that could help others.
PJ was sweeping the sidewalk to make the camp look better. By the time I left, he was working on fixing up a metal cart to share, knowing it’s tough to carry all your belongings on your back.
When I met Craig, he was deep into bike parts, with rubber tubing around his waist as a belt. He went into bike repair because he felt it was something most campers needed. Most of his work is free or traded.
Britney was amused with her new kitten — just like a 6-year old with a first pet.
Jon had a sense of duty and was even up at 5 a.m. when I was photographing the camp in the early morning light. He said he likes to keep watch for strangers.
Scott was also up at 5 a.m. He doesn’t sleep well, and he figured he might as well pick up the trash that others leave.
Most surprising were Duane and Missy, up in Delta Park. Within minutes of meeting me, Duane offered me food. The next day, I was at their camp at 4:30 a.m. to wait for the sunrise. Missy came out to greet me with a bandage on her leg. She’d cut herself getting into the window someone had broken out in her car. She wondered if I had any medical supplies. I didn’t, but whose heart wouldn’t go out to a person like Missy? I rushed home and grabbed extra supplies that I probably wouldn’t have used for years.
All the people I met appeared to be honest with me. They shared with me the mistakes they believed they had made in life. They had hope about the future.
But, they also all knew they were on borrowed time. As the pandemic eases, camp sweeps will resume, forcing many back into the daily struggle of survival that comes when you don’t have a safe place for your belongings or know where you will sleep that night.
This camp on Southeast 33rd Avenue and Waverleigh Boulevard — along the fence of Cleveland High School’s track — has been stationary for months. Generally there are six to eight people living here.
Britney, 32, grew up in the neighborhood and went to Cleveland High School. She said she knows if the school was open, she wouldn’t be able to stay camped on the sidewalk next to it. “People don’t see us as human beings,” she said.
One small furry thing that brings joy to Britney is her weeks-old cat, Jinx — always playing and doing weird things that amuse her.
This camp has been located on the south side of Southeast 32nd Avenue and Hawthorne Boulevard for three months. Four or five people camp here.
Scott, 58, has been on the street for 25 years. In the midst of what seems like a mess, you can often find Scott picking up trash. You could say Scott rises early, but it’s most likely he hasn’t slept all night. Picking up trash is something he can do when he’s up at 5 a.m. He said maybe he’ll sleep during the afternoon.
Bathrooms and showers are the toughest part of being on the street, Scott said.
This camp on Southeast 31st Avenue and Oak Street, across from Laurelhurst Park, stretches for several blocks. There is likely 40 to 50 people camped here. It’s been active for months.
PJ has a tattoo of a cross on his upper arm. The 43-year-old said a medical condition 10 years ago brought him to the Christian faith, and he attends church regularly.
PJ is all about making the community a nice place, making it safe. He doesn’t judge anyone. He sweeps the sidewalk and keeps drug users from hanging around for too long, he said, and takes shifts throughout the day to patrol the area. He recently bought a small cart and is now fixing it up so others can use it to haul their gear around.
In a stretch that goes many blocks along Southeast Powell, there might be 50 to 100 people camping in tents and cars in the turnouts from the main road. This area has been filled with campers for months. This photo was taken near the cross street of Southeast 57th Avenue.
Craig, 45, likes to be helpful to others. He has run his own skateboard shop in California and has done a lot of woodwork. When he got to the streets in Portland, he saw a need for bikes. People have to have transportation. So he adapted his handyman skills and now has a following of people for whom he repairs bikes. Mostly it’s free or in exchange for maybe another bike part he needs.
Craig said the biggest problem for these urban campers is theft — homeless-on-homeless theft. He said there is no greater waste of time and energy than stealing from other homeless people.
Craig sees life as hopping from one lily pad to the next. If you can do something to help others along the way, you make life better for everyone. Craig figures after the pandemic is over, they’ll go back to being booted out of places, moving every couple of weeks.
There are roughly 50 people camped out in various spots around the Moda Center. Some have been there for years. This photo was taken on North Williams.
Jon, 50, has essentially lived in this place for over a decade. He can look across the street to the Hooper Detox Center and see his old room on the fifth floor. He said he could kick himself in the butt for losing that voucher. Now he’s on a list to get back into housing.
When asked about the toughest part of camping outside, Jon quickly answered: theft. He’s always patrolling his tents. A buddy piped in and said, “Someone stole my shoes right off my feet while I was sleeping.”
Jon said the public isn’t very sympathetic toward his situation. A smile came to his face as he said quietly what he was thinking about others who look down on him: “Wait your turn. You’ll be last in line.”
He’s seen a lot of fights but said he wouldn’t retaliate if someone struck him. You can never know what’s going on inside of another person.
On the north side of Delta Park, squeezed between North Union Court and Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard, are open fields that have been a favorite camping spot for years, off and on. Any day, there could be up to 100 people camped in the surrounding area, many with cars or RVs.
Duane, 45, and Missy, 33, have been camped in the open field for months. Duane thinks the toughest part of being homeless is overcoming certain attitudes. “We’re all in the same boat, so don’t drill holes in the boat,” he said.
They, too, said the biggest problem they face is among one another is theft. Duane said he could probably go in every tent and find something that belongs to him.
As distractions, he enjoys a mix of many things: guitar, harmonica and painting, work as a roofer and landscaper.
Missy has had her fill of discrimination. To make her point, she described walking into a local restaurant. Before the waiter greeted them, he asked, “How are you going to pay for this?”
Missy has five children who aren’t with her now. She looks forward to moving to be closer to them.