Belltown Messenger

In Belltown, each alley tells a story. There is the one with the waterfall. The one with the secret garden. The one behind the 5-Point. The ones near Third Avenue. Each story meaning something to someone for some reason: A shortcut, a place to kick it, score, or park. Within some alleyways an urban phenomenon has evolved-people unable to "sit around" on the city streets during the day retreat to the shelter of the alleys, to get out of the way and peacefully spend their days-a select few accepting a personal challenge to tidy things up. A mission to keep their alley clean.

"Lee" is an example of this relatively rare phenomenon. He sees a situation, and does his best to make it better. He accepted the role as a sort-of ringleader of 'his alley,' the segment of the alley between Blanchard and Lenora, and First and Second Avenue. Like others like him, he knowingly and nearly invisibly keeps his eyes open and an ear to the ground, underneath the radar. Watching and maintaining a semblance of peace and order there-sometimes even working with the police.

"This is a clean alley . . . it wasn't two years ago," explains Lee, thoughtfully scanning the alley turf where he spends his daylight hours. In the two years Lee and his group have located themselves here they have watched the crack-heads migrate eastward, the rubbish scene diminish and a relaxed acceptance take over, for the most part. Adding that his posse leaves the alley at night, they say the alleys are too dangerous to sleep in; They renounce any responsibility or affiliation with the sordid activities of the night, that is an entirely different element.

During the day Lee imposes order, bringing a semblance of rules on those who enter their drinking dojo. He teaches to evacuate bowels on cardboard or paper, then throw it away. (To them urination isn't considered such a big deal-they try to refrain from peeing in doorways and pathways-their make-shift mantra is 'the rain washes that away.') They help sweep the alley, even cleaning under dumpsters, and using bleach to sanitize and clean-up the random messes. They respectfully get out of the way when the "soap truck" comes through.

Lee knows hardship, he sustained severe injures depleting him of the ability to earn a living wage, sending him spiraling down the path to homelessness. Having lived in Seattle on-and-off for 22 years, he's gotten to know the city, for the most part he goes where he pleases. It is his city too. Lee likes this alley. He enjoys this neighborhood, the view, the pleasant breezes blowing through. He appreciates when neighbors bring food and donate helpful items. He wants to do his part, when he can.

"There are a lot of homeless who do care. We care about the environment-our environment. This sky is our ceiling, the neighborhood is our living room, our kitchen, our home. We pride in it," Lee said. "We keep it clean and try to run off 'crack heads.'"

Over the years he's built some "rappoirre" among the neighborhood. People say "hi" as they pass by, Though not knowing him by name, they know his face. As ring leader, he knows what is happening and oversees situations. Most of the time it is business as usual. The alley-ites keep to themselves, heads down, unless someone enters needing help, due to injury, inebriation or whatever. Alley EMTs. Often working with their eyes to help police, alerting them of problems. Smirking, the gang says they have seen a litany of strangeness in the alleys of Belltown. In an effort to get out of the high-traffic doorways, they sometimes set-up pallets and cast-off furniture in between dumpsters to sit on and watch the day go by. This became a problem.

One adjacent restaurateur thinks the pallets and furniture are taking things too far and the posse needs to keep moving. This is a frequnty reaction to the evolution of ally-ites. The restauranteur took measures to move them along, sending staff to shoo the alley-ites away. This stance upset the group and to show his disgust [allegedly] one individual went up and pee-ed in the entryway, starting a sort of cold war.

"Walter" feels bad for what he did. He apologies, but he wanted to make a stand. He and Lee feel this shooing is unfounded and acting abrasively doesn't help anything. They are the ones who called the police. They feel they are an indigenous part of the alley and have a right to stay. Neighborhood reactions are mixed.

Mamush Marshall, parking attendant in the connecting U-Park lot, says what bothers him is the urinating. He is non-confrontational, but seeing Lee and his group sitting there constantly, drinking on the pallets and couches, did bother him. He definitely notices that they are gone now.

Many neighbors saw the group as part of the alley, a fixture. They are reminders of economic conditions and an extra eye on the street (or alley in this case). Neighbors say "hello," politely greeting them as they pass, sometimes donating food, money, bleach.

"Now I don't want to do anything," Lee rebuts. He hasn't been cleaning and helping people who use the alley, they've south shifted to a less desirable spot, changing the climate of the alley.

Lee adds that if things get ugly he can bring 15 or 20 of his "bro's" down here and any restaurant they target could cease to exist-it won't be about police. But they don't want to take it that far. In the meantime the cold war continues.