FALL RIVER — Very close to the center of town is the Crack Shack.
It’s part of what was described as a small abandoned homeless encampment that underwent cleanup on Wednesday morning, a little over 100 feet long, tucked away in overgrowth.
In spring and summer, that lush greenery makes good cover for people who want to keep to themselves. Winter doesn’t only affect the homeless by being dangerously cold — it’s left the branches bare. That makes things visible.
The spot had seen frequent use at one point, but no longer. Left behind were several empty tents and piles of trash, scraps of torn plastic bags caught fluttering in the thicket, garbage sometimes ankle-deep strewn along a path that had been worn into the dirt over a long time.
Before volunteers could clear out the site, a man, S., who preferred The Herald News not use his name, combed the grounds for anything he could use somewhere else. He was particularly interested in plastic sheeting. He wound what used to be a green tent around his left forearm.
S. said his father died about 18 months ago. He said he has no job and is technically homeless but stays with a friend.
“I have a place to go,” S. said. “Right now, I’m helping out my friends who are homeless. That’s the type of guy I am. Because they’re good people. They’re my friends, and they’re really good people, and they’re human too.”
Old blankets and discarded clothes covered much of the ground. He dismantled some of the remaining tents, pulling out the poles, taking the canopy.
He found a metallic plastic skeleton arm. It might’ve once been part of a toy. “I thought that was cool,” he said. “If it’s free, it’s for me.”
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Inside the abandoned homeless encampment
The Crack Shack is not a tent but an actual hand-crafted wooden structure, of noteworthy size — sturdy as a garden shed, well-built from salvaged beams and what appeared to be sheets of plywood nailed together, the roof buttressed by wooden joists. One side was insulated by slabs of styrofoam, the other by a wall of neglected clothes and blankets. Inside, the cold wind was less bitter. Two people could fit inside, three more snugly.
Despite the name, there was no visible drug paraphernalia anywhere. S. said anything like that would’ve most likely already been tossed away elsewhere.
“The last person who stayed in here, he was more a drunk,” S. said.
There was no shortage of other refuse. Empty bottles of soda, energy drinks, liquor. Yogurt containers. Protein shakes. Jackets. Underwear. A Magic Hat beer cooler. Parts of several bicycles — frames, chains, pedals, tires. Couch cushions, but no couch. Furniture foam. Soiled blankets. A My Little Pony coloring book and several others. Calligraphy pens. A striking amount of art supplies. Empty food cans. A bottle of apple cinnamon scented room spray. A potted plant with a plastic “welcome” sign on it. The shack made for sturdy shelter, but even without discarded pipes or needles apparent, the area constituted a health hazard.
Inside the door, someone left a message on the wall: “Call me when ur awake.”
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Cleanup of camp organized and paid for by Fall River cafe owner
The cleanup was organized by Christopher Silvia, owner of Christopher’s cafe on South Main Street. In recent months, he has made it a personal mission to keep the area around the Quequechan River Rail Trail clean. He and other volunteers from his nonprofit Action Fall River, including those from Blessed Trinity parish, have paired this work with a soup kitchen and donations of winter clothing, chemical hand-warmers, tents — things that people living outside need to survive.
The land on which the encampment sits is partially state property. Silvia said after unsuccessful attempts to get the state to clean it up, he took it upon himself to hire Alex Simon from Ace Junk Removal to haul away all the trash.
But before doing that, he said, his team made sure no one was living here. This was not an encampment “sweep” — where an active camp is dismantled and people living there are ordered to move on — but the cleanup of a polluted vacant site.
“We monitored it for a couple of weeks,” Silvia said. “We just continually monitored it. We asked around. It’s abandoned. Nobody’s been here in about a month.”
In September, the Fall River City Council outlawed unauthorized camping on public land, ruling that living on such property without access to water, sewer and sanitation services is hazardous and interferes with the land’s intended use. It essentially bans homeless encampments with the potential for people to face fines.
It’s unclear, however, if the ban has been enforced; it also hasn’t stopped encampments from cropping up.
“As volunteers, we’re coming and cleaning up all the time,” Silvia said. “This is no different.”
Homeless outreach remains difficult
Later that afternoon, Action Fall River held another soup kitchen and clothing giveaway in Britland Park, one of what’s becoming a regular series.
“We’re helping the ones that are here already,” Silvia said. “We’re feeding them and giving tents and all that.”
Outreach workers in Fall River and elsewhere have noted that asking homeless neighbors to come in to shelters from the cold, or even just offering them services to keep them alive if they choose to stay outdoors, takes a long time of trust-building.
When told by a reporter that volunteers would be nearby to hand out soup and warm clothes, S. expressed suspicion and was hesitant to take part. When asked if he had been contacted by city homeless outreach workers about finding a bed in a homeless shelter, he said he had but was not interested.
“Shelters, man, I’ve had the worst luck,” he said. “Stuff gets stolen, and there’s drama. I’m not for that.”
After over an hour of collecting material from the camp to take away, S. packed bales of plastic sheeting, tarps, a coat, and more into a overflowing shopping cart that he struggled to roll away over the uneven ground before a dump truck could be backed in.
When asked how difficult it was to live outdoors, S. joked, “I don’t want to give away the secrets.”
This article originally appeared on The Herald News: Abandoned homeless camp in Fall River removed; what it’s like inside
