Story of “Jerr-E-ville” shows struggle with homelessness
For activists, Jerr-E-ville was a symbol of the good in homeless communities and proof that they can work. For the city of Denver, the camp was part of a problem to be solved.
And as voters prepare to decide whether to roll back Denver’s camping ban via Initiative 300, the “Right to Survive” measure, on Tuesday, its story is a symbol of the city’s ongoing struggle with homelessness.
Jerry Burton’s camp had housed up to 20 people in tents along sidewalks in Curtis Park and Five Points. It went largely undisturbed for months, thanks in part to its relatively orderly appearance, despite the city’s urban camping ban.
“Every community has their own sort of ways of being in the world, and Jerr-E-ville is significant for the level of organization, the intentionality of cleanliness, and the willingness to be heard and seen,” said Terese Howard of Denver Homeless Out Loud. Camps are “hugely critical in terms of safety, their ability to support each other.”
But Burton and his fellow residents were caught up last month in the city’s efforts to clear areas around Denver Rescue Mission and Curtis Park.
First, workers closed the sidewalk near Denver Rescue Mission following public health complaints about human waste, rodents and discarded drug paraphernalia. Dis
placed people then moved into residential neighborhoods, especially Curtis Park, where Jerr-E-ville stood for months.
“Rather than accessing the support we can provide to those living without a home, unfortunately, some folks moved and set up camps in the Curtis Park neighborhood,” wrote city spokesperson Julie Smith in an email.
Burton, a former enlisted U.S. Marine, had kept his camp in order, asking that residents refrain from hard drugs, conceal alcohol use and clean up after themselves. But the newcomers were more upsetting, said Ryan Cox, a resident of Curtis Park.
“It turned out to be quite a few folks that ended up in our neighborhood,” Cox said, estimating that 100 to 200 people moved onto Curtis Park streets last month.
He said that he saw drugs, violence and a machete. Burton himself seemed upset by the change, Cox said, and Denver Homeless Out Loud faulted the city for “forcing two communities on top of each other.”
Jerr-E-ville moved several blocks to escape the chaos, and then moved again under threat of enforcement, eventually going to Commerce City before dispersing earlier this week. Burton was ticketed Monday for a camping ban violation in Denver.
It’s the “most intense” enforcement that Howard has seen.
“I think they should have jumped on board, came out there and found out, how do I do it,” said Burton, 57, who slept in a vehicle Tuesday night. “Let me teach some people to do what I was doing.”
Camps like Jerr-E-ville aren’t allowed under the city’s 2012 camping ban, which prohibits people from using tents and other survival gear in public.
Initiative 300 would guarantee that people can take shelter in public spaces in a “non-obstructive manner,” and also to live in legally parked motor vehicles, among other rights.
Chris Conner, executive director of Denver’s Road Home, acknowledged that some camps are better run than others. But he said the city can’t give preferential treatment. He and other city officials have warned that Initiative 300’s broad language could limit Denver’s ability to enforce rules and provide services for people in need.
Meanwhile, right-to-survive proponents have argued that the camping ban drives people into the dark corners of the city.
A University of Denver survey of about 500 homeless people in Denver found that about half were “constantly” worried about police contact, with higher stress and anxiety levels. About a third were told not to use blankets and other shelter, and those people were more likely to experience frostbite and heat stroke, the survey found. Women who hid from police in isolated spots reported sexual assault at a 60 percent higher rate, according to the report by Tony Robinson and Marisa Westbrook.
But camps themselves can be dangerous, warned Conner.
“I’ve been in camps before where camp leaders provide ‘governance’ through brutality. In other camps, they provide very civil governance,” Conner said.
In one recent encounter at a camp, police arrested a man on a warrant for felony domestic violence, Conner said. City officials discovered that he had been controlling a woman in the camp and they helped her get home to her family, he said.
Initiative 300 could have hampered the officer in that situation, he said.
Cox, the Curtis Park resident, said that the wave of camps was like “a peek into the future if I-300 were to pass. It’s troubling.” Police have since cleared all the major encampments from the neighborhood, he said, after complaints to elected leaders.
In the long term, the city aims to reform its shelter system, providing more varied options to get people inside and eventually housed.
Denver will spend $3 million in the near future to provide more daytime shelter options, and future efforts will make it easier to access shelter at any time, Conner said.
Camp leader Burton argues that Denver should try to improve camps, not sweep them away.
The complaints in Curtis Park were a result of the sweeps driving together “50 people that has no hope, that has no drive,” he said.
The city instead should figure out how to encourage healthy encampments, perhaps by opening up public property, he added.
Denver also has explored the idea of more structured low-cost living areas, such as the Beloved tiny-home village — but there’s little appetite in city government for the idea of formal urban camping areas.
“If the city is going to invest its dollars, it should be into housing folks, not setting up legal encampments,” said Smith, the spokesperson.
“That’s not a long-term solution for homelessness in the city.”