Homeless Protest Plan to Raze Old Navy Hospital

Yvonne Baughman was living in a shelter for the homeless in Boulder, Colo., the night her baby died in her arms.

Baughman is 22. Her son, who died of emphysema, was 11 months. The county paid for a funeral, but not for a marker or a grave. After the services, Baughman was told that without her child, she no longer qualified for space in the shelter.

So she hit the road, she said, ending up in San Diego.

Tuesday morning, Baughman was one of about 100 people who gathered in a parking lot at the northeastern corner of Park Boulevard and Presidents Way to protest the scheduled demolition of the old Navy Hospital in Balboa Park.

The organizers of the protest, Coalition for the Homeless, want the hospital restored as a shelter for the homeless.

Turnout Lower Than Expected

The demonstration drew a crowd far below the 1,000-plus that organizers had predicted. Norma Rossi, a spokeswoman for the coalition, conceded disappointment but said the fight is far from over.

San Diego’s “society of haves and have-nots” will grow wider in disparity and the issue of homelessness will “haunt the city for years to come unless something is done--fast,” Rossi said.

“The city of San Diego has done nothing for the homeless,” she said, and the number of people on the street now exceeds 5,000--with only about 900 beds available in local shelters.

“Just this week, I saw a day-old baby on the streets,” Rossi said. “More than 75% of the children on the streets don’t attend any school at all. We want the city to follow the example of Mother Teresa and halt the demolition of the naval hospital, which could provide temporary housing for families and individuals.”

Over the past year, scores of arts and civic organizations have petitioned the city for use of the hospital buildings, which officials say would not stand up to a major earthquake. The 42 buildings were made expendable by construction of the new Navy Hospital in Florida Canyon, which opened early this year. In February, 1987, the city voted to tear down all but three of the old buildings and return the space to parkland. The demolition, scheduled for July 1, has been postponed until mid-July or later.

Stories of Pain and Hopelessness

Many of those at Tuesday’s demonstration had stories as full of pain and hopelessness as Baughman’s. And, like her, they carried placards and shouted slogans to protest the proposed demolition.

“No more rock house, I want my house,” read one of the signs. “Help the needy, not the greedy,” read another.

The target of most of the day’s speeches--and seemingly of everyone’s wrath--was Mayor Maureen O’Connor. She was particularly criticized for her current cultural fact-finding trip to the Soviet Union.

“O’Connor wants culture--we want jobs,” read a sign.

Pat Brogan, 45, said he was homeless until he qualified for medical disability after he broke his back hauling paint cans for a glass and paint company. He’s now a member of the Union of the Homeless, a new group that he said has met “nothing but disappointment” in pleading its case before the City Council.

“This is a city that cares deeply about the Super Bowl and yacht races and kissing up to Russians but cares nothing about the homeless,” Brogan said. “The jerks downtown don’t give a damn about the homeless. What we’re gonna have to do is just take over a building. You know, like take over the naval hospital and show we mean business. O’Connor is a big landlord downtown. Is she gonna help us?

“You get no points appealing to the better nature of slumlords or politicians,” he said. “They don’t have a better nature, so why appeal to it? To think that the rich will come to our aid by us getting down on our knees and begging is just nonsense.”

Frank Landerville, project director of the Regional Task Force on the Homeless--a group appointed by O’Connor--took issue with the Coalition for the Homeless.

Landerville said that merely wanting the use of the hospital isn’t enough and that any group demanding its restoration should have a program ready to go. The coalition, in his words, does not.

“This is an old issue,” Landerville said. “The coalition came before our board; we declined to support them. The city has made the decision concerning the future of those buildings.

“The coalition seemed focused on obtaining the buildings without having a program in place. Believe me, there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of getting back any of those buildings.”

Pete Pearlman is a volunteer with the coalition, which, he said, has gathered 3,000 signatures on a petition to have the hospital restored.

“I know there’s strong public support behind keeping those buildings,” Pearlman said. “We also have access to some federal funds to at least start a program. It will cost a whole lot of money to tear the buildings down. Why not spend the money but restore them as shelters? They could house thousands of people, which is something we need, right now.”

Ken Berquist, a 27-year-old homeless man who came to San Diego from Boston, said part of the problem is that San Diego is a city of “quick fixes, with plenty of soup lines” but not enough clarity on who to turn to when the need is greatest.

“I came out here, like a lot of homeless folks, figuring it was the land of opportunity. Well, it isn’t,” Berquist said. “It’s depressing here. It ain’t no paradise. The streets here are screwy and getting crazier. A lot of us left L.A. to come here, but people here are getting shot and stabbed just as much as they do in L.A. Everyone’s trying to get a piece of everybody else.”

He said his mother is dead and that his father, a retired factory foreman, has told him, “You’ve made your bed--sleep in it.”

Berquist, himself an unemployed factory worker, said he is courting an “uncontrollable drinking problem.” He said he sees no sign of hope.

Robbie, 40, who asked that his last name not be published or his photograph taken, has been on the streets for several months. He said he lost his wife, his kids and his job because of cocaine, but hopes to scare up $500 to have his union dues restored, then get a job as a bricklayer.

Robbie said he was shocked by the “ruthlessness” of San Diego’s homeless community.

“Go down to 7th and Market some night,” he said. “See if you can make it one night. I, like a lot of others, have been stabbed and threatened at gunpoint. It’s people always trying to get what you ain’t got. Look at this, man.”

He pointed to the scarred knuckles of his right hand.

“A knife blade went right across ‘em. This was 22 stitches,” he said.

Robbie carried a sign at the protest that read:

“Life’s a bitch, and then you die.”

“That sums it up,” he said. “Even in this town.”