Miami Puts the Heat on the Homeless

While workers put the finishing touches on this city’s new pastel-pink basketball arena, about 700 ragged, hungry men a block away cling to the gate of a homeless shelter waiting for the day’s only meal.

For five years, city planners have tried to move the shelter in the Overtown section--scene of the 1982 riots--for fear that families venturing downtown to watch NBA stars like Larry Bird or Magic Johnson will be hassled by vagrants, beggars and drug addicts.

“I’m sure the shelter is doing fine work, but some of the clientele tend to congregate on the sidewalk all day,” said Matthew Schwartz, deputy director of Miami’s Department of Development. “It’s an environment that’s simply not conducive to the arena, the area development or any kind of business.”

Know Little of Arena

Most of the homeless who gather at the Camillus House shelter for the 3 p.m. soup line know little about the $52.5-million Miami Arena, the city’s fledgling NBA franchise or the planned $150-million project to rejuvenate the blighted area. But they are painfully aware they have never been a part of the big plans.

“It’s another roundup,” said C. C. Williams, a 28-year-old ex-convict who spends the night in abandoned warehouses and sometimes finds day-labor jobs. “The police came and took us away before the Orange Bowl and when the Pope came through. This is the same kind of thing.”

“People drive through here on their way back from work and they stare at us like we’re animals at the zoo,” said Terence Radd, a 22-year-old Detroit native who says he has turned to petty crime for survival. “I know we’re probably an embarrassment--but we’ve got a little pride too.”

Fears a Raw Deal

Brother Paul Johnson, who operates Camillus House for the Brothers of the Good Shepherd, says he is not opposed to progress, but he doesn’t want to see the homeless get a raw deal.

“I love basketball just like everyone else, but since when do the recreational needs of the wealthy become more important than the basic needs of human beings?” he said.

The city has offered about $1 million for the half-block Camillus House property.

“We’ve been here 30 years, it wasn’t our idea to move,” Johnson said, adding that he thinks that it is worth $2 million.

But Schwartz said: “That figure is out of line . . . . The city has limits as to what it can pay.”

Under public acquisition laws, the city has the right to condemn Camillus House and take the property. But Johnson said if that happens he will sue for the true value of the land plus hefty damages, a suit that Schwartz acknowledges the city probably would lose.

With the 16,500-seat arena set to open in July, Schwartz says the arena’s operators and owners of the Miami Heat basketball franchise are putting subtle pressure on the city to move Camillus House.

Avoids Controversy

The Heat, which tips off its National Basketball Assn. schedule in the arena in November, has publicly steered clear of the homeless controversy for fear that it would hurt the team’s image. Team owners Lewis Schaffel and Zev Bufman refused comment.

The arena is the centerpiece of a city plan to turn the Overtown slum into a thriving middle-income community with four residential complexes, hotels, shops and a cultural center. Nearby are the year-old Bayside festival marketplace and newly opened Bayfront Amphitheater.

The Camillus House has plans of its own if it is bought out. Johnson has already purchased a 1.8-acre lot on the other side of downtown near the city police station to serve the homeless, who he said number 8,700 in summer and 10,000 in winter in Dade County.

“The city just seems to think that if it ignores these people long enough, they will go away,” Johnson said.