By Catherine Brunelle
If you live in Vanier, then you know this is a neighbourhood built upon many different stories. Sometimes it’s the entirely charming story of Vanier’s festivals, bike repair shops, sugar shacks, secret artists, history lessons and surprising food options. But there are other realities as well, the harder stories . . . Today’s post is a neighbourhood snap-shot of seeing those realities and taking action.
I was walking down the street the other evening with my husband when we happened to pass a neighbour sitting on his stoop. It was Robert*, a Vanier resident of many years. As usual, we waved to one another and said hello. But instead of passing by as usual, this time we decided to stop and have a real chat. The conversation that followed left me a little more wide-eyed, and quite inspired.
Anyhow, we were passing by his lovely home and commented on how gorgeous the garden was looking. This somehow led into a conversation on house pride, and how he now enjoys sitting on his front porch and watching the world go by. But it wasn’t always like that. For years, the street was dominated by stigmas that have tarred Vanier.
You see, Robert lives on what could now easily be called a ‘booming’ street in Vanier. It’s an example of change that reflects an overall trend in the Vanier community. But go back a couple years, and this was a place of heroine dens, drug trade, prostitution, and slum-like housing. (Mind you, I don’t have a record of these realities, this is just what several neighbours have told me.)
Anyhow, down the road from Robert was a particularly bad apartment building. Cars were pulling up at all hours of the day to buy and sell. All of this was led by one very intimidating man who would sit outside the building with his friends and clients.
Apparently this was going on for quite some time, but when Robert became aware (after he and his girlfriend starting doing gardening, actually, which brought them out of their house more often to notice the growing problem), he decided it was time to create a change.
First, he and the neighbours started a petition. They went house to house collecting signatures of neighbours who didn’t want to live in such conditions.
Then, the street began to watch. Every time a car pulled up to the bad-seed apartment, they recorded the license plates and descriptions of people coming and going. All this was collected in a red binder which Robert kept at his home.
And then, they began to make phone calls. One call after the other, they’d file complaints against the neighbours.
One day it accumulated to the point of being noticed by those in the apartment. The man down the street came over to Robert’s home, where Robert was sitting by the front door. Obviously, I don’t have the exact transcript of the conversation, but it went along these lines:
The fellow was this heavy, intimidating man. Not the kind of guy you want to pick a fight with. He came up to Robert’s doorstep and said, “Hey, Smith (not Robert’s real last name), come over here.”
So Robert gets up and steps down from his porch to be face-to-face with this guy.
The guy continues. “You see this street.” And he gestures so that Robert looks up and down the street.
“Yep,” replied Robert.
“When I move somewhere, it becomes mine. I own this street now.”
To which Robert becomes a Vanier Superhero.
“You see that sidewalk?” Robert asked in reply. “That’s my sidewalk. I pay the taxes for that sidewalk and I pay the mortgage on this home. You see my neighbour? That’s their sidewalk. They pay the taxes, they own their home. You see that house across the street? They pay the taxes, they own their home. We pay our mortgages, we pay the taxes. We own this street.”
I swear to goodness, I had chills as Robert told my husband and I this story. It was astonishing to imagine him pointing his finger at the street, at the houses, at the man who had the drug den, and declaring ownership.
After that confrontation things began to roll. There were talks with the landlord of the building, encouraging him to no longer tolerate the situation; the landlord began participating in tracking the problems and changing tenants, eventually renovating the building. There were talks with the police and presenting the binder full of cars and descriptions; the police began to patrol, patrol, patrol. And there were reports, one after the other, of any and all complaints that could be made against the problem-causers.
What happened? Change happened. I actually now live in that building that was once a cavity. It’s full of renters still, but young professionals and students. There are no midnight parties, no prostitutes, no trouble. And while this type of proactively doesn’t solve the bigger problem of poverty, vulnerability, drugs, prostitution, etc., it did change the area.
It took work to create change, but change they got. As Robert suggested, the first step is looking out your door and noticing the problem, and the second step is doing something about it.
I’ll never forget Robert’s inspiring words, they carry a moral that I think can be applied to Vanier as a whole: “We own this street.” How is that for a good local story?
*Robert is an alias. We’ve decided it is best to change his real name.
Photo: Mike Steinhauer (2008)