By Mr Bum
Robert Speer, the 26th Mayor of Denver, helped create a “City Beautiful” initiative in Denver
back in the 1910’s. The initiative was based around the novel notion that if cities had parks and open spaces for people to congregate in, then people living in the city would feel happier and healthier, and be more engaged in the community around them. That’s why Denver has strange little pockets of land in-between diagonal and perpendicular streets, where people can congregate, see a little bit of nature and retreat.
But no longer can just anyone walk into the little sliver of land between Broadway, Lawrence Street and Park Avenue. “Triangle” Park is now closed. Back in 2006, there were high hopes
for this little triangular island of land, when the city decided to name it “Eddie Maestas Park” after the old business leader turned founding member of “The Larimer Square North Merchants” Association” - the precursor to the “Ballpark Neighborhood Association.”
Eddie was nicknamed “The Mayor of Larimer Street” because of his legacy of “running the neighborhood.” He is remembered as being a fair and honest man who respected everyone. There are stories of him hiring homeless folks to sweep the front of his store in exchange for some food. But, he is also known as the person who “fought off skid row”--meaning he helped usher major developments into the neighborhood, like Coors Field, which led to the tearing down of most of the neighborhood’s low-income housing as soon as timeline obligations to HUD were fulfilled, and developers were legally allowed to do so.
But the “homeless problem”--as some folks call it--didn’t go away with the designation of a “historical district” and the introduction of some new swanky bars and eateries. It only increased, because even though there were countless promises from the city to develop low income housing to replace that which had been torn down for the sake of “revitalization,” the city... lied.
So, homelessness grew. And grew. And Grew. In 2012, the Metro Denver Homeless Initiative counted over 14,000 people experiencing homelessness in their point in time survey. (Then, HUD narrowed the definition of “homelessness” so as to exclude most of the population, and in 2014, even though everyone knows the city is still overflowing with people who have no safe or stable place to live, they claimed to have only counted 4,000 homeless people.)
In 2011, reports swirled of how “Eddie Maestas Park” had turned into “Bummuda Triangle”--a well-known hang-out for people waiting to get into one of the two shelters catty-corner to it, and a prime location for drug deals to go down. Eddie’s family reportedly asked the city to take the sign bearing his name down after seeing a plethora of trash lying around on the ground.
But what was to be expected? Where were poor people supposed to go? There was, and still is, only roughly one shelter bed for every 14 homeless people living in Denver, and we have yet to see any substantial development of low-income housing. Where are they supposed to congregate?
When city officials, police officers, business owners and a few representatives
of local neighborhood associations held a meeting about their plans for the park in 2013, they assured Denver Homeless Out Loud members that “We’re not shutting the park down to kick out the homeless. We don’t want the drug deals... and we’re going to build a garden... homeless people will be welcome inside the garden... if they want to garden.” But, who wasn’t there to weigh in on the conversation? People who actually utilize the park.
“But we invited them...” said the group of “concerned citizens.” The same year, two other parks often frequented by unsheltered people were shut down for “renovations.” In open
forum community meetings, city officials and neighbors both mentioned “homeless issues,” but refused to say that these renovations had anything to do with kicking homeless people out.
Both Sonny Lawson Park (at 23rd Street and Welton) and Benedict Fountain Park (another “triangle” park formed by 20th Avenue, Tremont, and 22nd Street) reopened earlier this year, before the Triangle. After Sonny Lawson--also known as “Jurassic Park” by those who frequent it most--reopened, I witnessed a violent fight break out there, and heard a woman
say “What you expect is gonna happen when they shut the f-in’ triangle down. All the problems come over here. This used to be a nice park.” And it was, respectfully.
Prior to the renovation of the three parks, Jurassic Park and Benedict Fountain Park-also known as “the living room”--were considered the two calm parks. The Triangle, everyone knew, was where some less than desirable things occurred. And for a while cops, neighbors
and city officials agreed that it was better to isolate that behavior on one block, than to have it happen in alleys behind people’s houses in the neighborhood.
Now, issues from the Triangle have sprawled out into the neighborhood and affected everyday
life in the area. When Eddie Maestas Park was first designated as such by the city, it came with a $275,000 price tag, along with some inkind donations from Brent Snyder (deputy
assistant attorney general turned developer man), in the form of benches and trellis pieces. At the time, the neighborhood group and the city seemed to know how morally reprehensible it was to ban poor people from certain areas.
Mark Upshaw, the architect and planner on the project said, “The park is for everybody.... We
realize the homeless are going to use it, and that they have a right to be there.” A few years later, and the Ballpark Neighborhood Association picks a fight with the city over expanding the Rescue Mission, throwing every cheap shot they could, and pressuring the city to pay $1.8 million to make sure homeless people get arrested every time they pee in LODO or near the stadium. And the same “not in my backyard” group of people were the ones deciding the fate of the park.
“But, we’re not excluding the homeless,” whined the representatives of Ballpark. Denver Urban Gardens (DUG) is going to take it over, we were told. Turns out, DUG didn’t want the project, but the city and the planning group just dumped it on them. So, DUG did everything
it could to make the best of the situation they reached out to homeless provider agencies in the neighborhood to try and get homeless folks to participate in the garden, and they reached out
to Denver Homeless Out Loud and offered us a plot of garden space. We accepted.
We have a few gardeners within our group who are working on the plot, but WE ARE STILL LOOKING FOR MORE PEOPLE WHO ARE EXPERIENCING HOMELESSNESS TO JOIN US and make sure that homeless people aren’t excluded from the park.
If interested please contact us-- info@denverhomelessoutloud.org
or 720-940-5291.
But, if the opening of the park is any indication of its future, here’s what’s to be expected:
After months of delays from the city, DUG was finally able to open the park on October 16th. A new sign, honoring the former patriarch of the Ballpark Neighborhood Association, Eddie
Maestas, stands right outside the six foot tall fence that takes a code to get through. Inside (aside from DHOL folks that showed up), we found a few DUG representatives, a few service provider employees, some business owners, some representatives of Curtis Park Neighborhood Organization, a woman who said “I’m Ballpark,” a dozen or so
tiny garden plots, five police officers, and one person drinking cider who may have been assumed to be homeless.
Oh, and one last side note - after millions of dollars (literally) of renovations to the parks along Park Ave over the years, there are still zero public restrooms. Councilman Brooks and Bennie Milliner of the Denver’s Road Home assured residents at a community meeting about the parks that the city couldn’t afford them.
back in the 1910’s. The initiative was based around the novel notion that if cities had parks and open spaces for people to congregate in, then people living in the city would feel happier and healthier, and be more engaged in the community around them. That’s why Denver has strange little pockets of land in-between diagonal and perpendicular streets, where people can congregate, see a little bit of nature and retreat.
But no longer can just anyone walk into the little sliver of land between Broadway, Lawrence Street and Park Avenue. “Triangle” Park is now closed. Back in 2006, there were high hopes
for this little triangular island of land, when the city decided to name it “Eddie Maestas Park” after the old business leader turned founding member of “The Larimer Square North Merchants” Association” - the precursor to the “Ballpark Neighborhood Association.”
Eddie was nicknamed “The Mayor of Larimer Street” because of his legacy of “running the neighborhood.” He is remembered as being a fair and honest man who respected everyone. There are stories of him hiring homeless folks to sweep the front of his store in exchange for some food. But, he is also known as the person who “fought off skid row”--meaning he helped usher major developments into the neighborhood, like Coors Field, which led to the tearing down of most of the neighborhood’s low-income housing as soon as timeline obligations to HUD were fulfilled, and developers were legally allowed to do so.
But the “homeless problem”--as some folks call it--didn’t go away with the designation of a “historical district” and the introduction of some new swanky bars and eateries. It only increased, because even though there were countless promises from the city to develop low income housing to replace that which had been torn down for the sake of “revitalization,” the city... lied.
So, homelessness grew. And grew. And Grew. In 2012, the Metro Denver Homeless Initiative counted over 14,000 people experiencing homelessness in their point in time survey. (Then, HUD narrowed the definition of “homelessness” so as to exclude most of the population, and in 2014, even though everyone knows the city is still overflowing with people who have no safe or stable place to live, they claimed to have only counted 4,000 homeless people.)
In 2011, reports swirled of how “Eddie Maestas Park” had turned into “Bummuda Triangle”--a well-known hang-out for people waiting to get into one of the two shelters catty-corner to it, and a prime location for drug deals to go down. Eddie’s family reportedly asked the city to take the sign bearing his name down after seeing a plethora of trash lying around on the ground.
But what was to be expected? Where were poor people supposed to go? There was, and still is, only roughly one shelter bed for every 14 homeless people living in Denver, and we have yet to see any substantial development of low-income housing. Where are they supposed to congregate?
When city officials, police officers, business owners and a few representatives
of local neighborhood associations held a meeting about their plans for the park in 2013, they assured Denver Homeless Out Loud members that “We’re not shutting the park down to kick out the homeless. We don’t want the drug deals... and we’re going to build a garden... homeless people will be welcome inside the garden... if they want to garden.” But, who wasn’t there to weigh in on the conversation? People who actually utilize the park.
“But we invited them...” said the group of “concerned citizens.” The same year, two other parks often frequented by unsheltered people were shut down for “renovations.” In open
forum community meetings, city officials and neighbors both mentioned “homeless issues,” but refused to say that these renovations had anything to do with kicking homeless people out.
Both Sonny Lawson Park (at 23rd Street and Welton) and Benedict Fountain Park (another “triangle” park formed by 20th Avenue, Tremont, and 22nd Street) reopened earlier this year, before the Triangle. After Sonny Lawson--also known as “Jurassic Park” by those who frequent it most--reopened, I witnessed a violent fight break out there, and heard a woman
say “What you expect is gonna happen when they shut the f-in’ triangle down. All the problems come over here. This used to be a nice park.” And it was, respectfully.
Prior to the renovation of the three parks, Jurassic Park and Benedict Fountain Park-also known as “the living room”--were considered the two calm parks. The Triangle, everyone knew, was where some less than desirable things occurred. And for a while cops, neighbors
and city officials agreed that it was better to isolate that behavior on one block, than to have it happen in alleys behind people’s houses in the neighborhood.
Now, issues from the Triangle have sprawled out into the neighborhood and affected everyday
life in the area. When Eddie Maestas Park was first designated as such by the city, it came with a $275,000 price tag, along with some inkind donations from Brent Snyder (deputy
assistant attorney general turned developer man), in the form of benches and trellis pieces. At the time, the neighborhood group and the city seemed to know how morally reprehensible it was to ban poor people from certain areas.
Mark Upshaw, the architect and planner on the project said, “The park is for everybody.... We
realize the homeless are going to use it, and that they have a right to be there.” A few years later, and the Ballpark Neighborhood Association picks a fight with the city over expanding the Rescue Mission, throwing every cheap shot they could, and pressuring the city to pay $1.8 million to make sure homeless people get arrested every time they pee in LODO or near the stadium. And the same “not in my backyard” group of people were the ones deciding the fate of the park.
“But, we’re not excluding the homeless,” whined the representatives of Ballpark. Denver Urban Gardens (DUG) is going to take it over, we were told. Turns out, DUG didn’t want the project, but the city and the planning group just dumped it on them. So, DUG did everything
it could to make the best of the situation they reached out to homeless provider agencies in the neighborhood to try and get homeless folks to participate in the garden, and they reached out
to Denver Homeless Out Loud and offered us a plot of garden space. We accepted.
We have a few gardeners within our group who are working on the plot, but WE ARE STILL LOOKING FOR MORE PEOPLE WHO ARE EXPERIENCING HOMELESSNESS TO JOIN US and make sure that homeless people aren’t excluded from the park.
If interested please contact us-- info@denverhomelessoutloud.org
or 720-940-5291.
But, if the opening of the park is any indication of its future, here’s what’s to be expected:
After months of delays from the city, DUG was finally able to open the park on October 16th. A new sign, honoring the former patriarch of the Ballpark Neighborhood Association, Eddie
Maestas, stands right outside the six foot tall fence that takes a code to get through. Inside (aside from DHOL folks that showed up), we found a few DUG representatives, a few service provider employees, some business owners, some representatives of Curtis Park Neighborhood Organization, a woman who said “I’m Ballpark,” a dozen or so
tiny garden plots, five police officers, and one person drinking cider who may have been assumed to be homeless.
Oh, and one last side note - after millions of dollars (literally) of renovations to the parks along Park Ave over the years, there are still zero public restrooms. Councilman Brooks and Bennie Milliner of the Denver’s Road Home assured residents at a community meeting about the parks that the city couldn’t afford them.
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