CAMPING IN ALTON BAKER PARK
And there were other problems. The campsite Rick had found for us was in a clump of trees in Alton Baker Park, not far from the parking lot where the car camp had been. We couldn't move our stuff very far without a vehicle.

When we went out for the day we would leave the tent collapsed and hidden as much as possible, but it was only a matter of time before it was discovered by the park employees. The following piece describes the first time this happened, when we'd only been camping there for a week. I wrote it as part of an attempt to get a legal investigation going, to see if we could recover damages, which eventually came to nothing.

AFFIDAVIT

On the morning of June 8, 1993, my partner Rick and I went out for coffee, leaving most of our possessions in our campsite at Alton Baker Park, underneath the collapsed tent. We weren't gone for more than an hour. When we returned to the campsite, everything was gone.

Not knowing how to reach the park authorities, I called 911, saying, "I'd like to report a theft." Since they didn't consider this an emergency, they told me I'd have to talk to the desk sergeant, who would not be in for another hour. (It was now about 8:00am.)

We went to the Eugene police station; then the people I talked to, after several phone calls, put me in touch with the Alton Baker Park officials. I wrote down their phone number on a copy of the
Community Safety Quarterly which was entitled "Burglary Prevention", while noting the irony of this.

The man I talked to told me where we could pick up our stuff at the Alton Baker Shops, while also telling me repeatedly that there was "no camping allowed in the park." I wrote down the directions to the place on the same copy of the
Community Safety Quarterly.

When we went there, we found the tent and other things had been thrown in a heap next to the dumpster in front of the building. As Rick examined the tent he found that the poles had been deliberately broken, and there were also about three holes in the tent fabric that had not been there before. Furious, I went into the building and asked the man in the office who had done the damage. He replied, "He threw it in the dumpster; it was trash."

At this I became even more irate and yelled at him, "That is our HOME; don't you EVER tell me my house is trash!" He picked up the phone and told me he would call the cops if I didn't leave. I said, "Go ahead--I have a few things to say to them too!" Then he ushered me out of the building, saying, "I understand your situation, Ma'am," but the words rang hollow as he had a very contemptuous smirk on his face the whole time.

As Rick and I struggled to put our tent and other possessions back in order, a couple of park vehicles drove up. I asked both of the drivers who had done the damage to our tent, and one of them, a middle-aged man in a green shirt, readily admitted that he'd done it, and also repeated, "It was trash--just like you!" He also had the same contemptuous smirk on his face as the other guy, as if to say, "Ha ha--we got you bums!" I screamed at him that he owed us money for the damage, calling him names as I was totally frustrated and furious at his attitude.

Then Rick approached him with a notebook and pen and asked his name; the man refused to give it. Rick said he'd call the cops on him, as a government employee is required to give his name when asked.

In any case they had already called the cops, who showed up a few minutes later. We told one cop our version of the story while the green-shirted guy told the other one his. Then the cops kept telling us there was "no camping allowed in the park" and that furthermore we had no legal claim to our possessions after we'd left them in a public park and they'd been trashed by park personnel. They also said that the guy who did the deed was not required to give us his name, as he had a "right to privacy." Of course they didn't care in the least that this tent was our only home, our only shelter from the rains which had been quite cruel that week. I gave them a lecture about the Fourth Amendment, as which one cop laughed very contemptuously, as to him the idea of homeless people having any kind of rights was the funniest thing in the world. But as we were leaving he said, "If you want a legal place to camp, go to Miami," which indicated that he knew exactly what we were talking about.

Rick managed to repair the damage to the tent, at least for the time being. But among our recovered possessions there turned out to be several items missing: a tarp, a pair of shoes, a pair of jeans, our cat food dish, a knife, and a library book which had been checked out on my card. We were also unable to get back our foam pad, so we are sleeping on hard ground with no padding underneath.

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