Laurence and I ambled home together from Place Pigalle Friday night, after Michelle’s birthday guests disbanded. Laurence’s presence embiggens my bravery about meandering down sketchy alleys, so I took the opportunity to follow a few side streets.
Near the end of Erie, and a little after 1am, we ran into a fellow named Drew and his dog, Milo. When we mentioned we were just exploring, he started describing his restoration effort. The building from which he’d emerged was for sale, but they hadn’t been able to sell it because of the overwhelming odor ammonia odor emanating from the homeless camp at the end of the block.
Drew’s requests that the city provide basic services like street sweeping and parking enforcement went unanswered, so he started cleaning the 200 foot long block himself. He patched the holes in the fence used by the homeless, cut down dead trees and planted live ones. He had the street power washed and even bleached the sidewalk himself to remove stains and odor.
During this time, the city had only done the block two favors: once a meter maid handed out a couple of tickets to illegally parked cars. And another time a street sweeper came through, but only after Drew paid the driver $20.
Nonetheless, the fruit of Drew’s labor was obvious. The street now is quite nice. So nice, in fact, that the owner is now thinking he might not sell Drew’s building.