"Don't all stampede at once"

This is the column that really lit a fire under the discussion
about students buying homes on the North Side.

http://www.mndaily.com/articles/2008/02/04/72165331

In the column I mention my first visit to the North Side, and my "first
impressions" of the place. I should add a little bit more about my
visit to the humble house at 2125 Lyndale Ave. N.

First of all, I think I made a total of three or four visits to the house
as part of getting to know the neighborhood. More importantly,
at that point I thought my offer for the house stood a good chance
of being accepted, and I was trying to deal with the homeless
squatter living in the house.

I went there by myself because I didn't need a door code or my
real estate agent to let me in. The front door had been repeatedly
kicked in, locks repeatedly replaced, rinse and repeat. In fact,
my real estate agent drew the line at showing me a house where
there was a known squatter who just kept coming back, living
just a block or two behind the massive liquor store where so
much negative energy congregates right on the sidewalks.

Can't say I blame her.

Something not mentioned in the column was how I found a
card for some kind of social worker amid the possessions
of the squatter, and I went out of my way to contact that
person and let them know about this squatter who needed
help. The house was about to get sold--one way or another,
to me or somebody else--and it wasn't going to be a
"crash pad" much longer. The social worker was very
nice and very thankful.

Other things I found...a note in the kitchen demanding that
if "Chubb" was going to stay here, he should clean up his
own mess. A bunch of ketchup packets in the kitchen,
and a garbage bag in the basement with what appeared
to be the remnants of bread sticks from a pizza joint.

Purchased? Employee meal? Dumpster dived? There
was no way to tell, but the garbage was fresh, not
rancid. Also, a green hooded sweatshirt hung upon
a partial fence near the house, sort of like a clothesline.
The squatter was subtle and unobtrusive, but very
much making himself or herself at home.

And I never figured out if it was a "him" or a "her."
There was a pink blanket with frilly trim with the
sleeping bag, but what does that mean? Nothing.
As my brother Judd put it, "A crack head will use
anything to stay warm." Right. You might wrap
yourself in shag carpet, but that doesn't make
you a floor, you might lay on newspapers, but
that doesn't make you front page news.

In the column, I talked about witnessing the arrest
of the "grab and dash" guy who tried to make off
with a jug of wine. There was another interaction
I didn't mention: I told the police about the
squatter. I told them right in the parking lot
of that liquor store, telling them the circumstances
about how the door was getting kicked in over
and over at 2125 Lyndale Ave. N., and how
the squatter's stuff was there right now.

They told me unless I had ownership rights,
I had no authority to call it in. No, not even
if I had been given permission to access the
property, and I had witnessed all this stuff,
and the squatter was almost certainly coming
back that very night to their habitual nightly
abode. (As evidenced by recent bus passes,
cigarettes left at the scene and, really, what
homeless person leaves behind cigarettes?)

The police wished me well, as they were stuffing
Mr. Accused Jug O' Wine thief in their squad
car, and told me if and when I acquired some
ownership rights, they'd be more than happy
to help me out. (And no, they didn't consider
putting down "earnest money" to qualify
for any kind of right to report a problem
at the property)

I found this interaction rather hard to
comprehend, so that night I called the police
dispatcher and made a report. They promised
to swing by. But I know nothing came of
it. When I went back a few nights later,
the stuff was still there...though the
bedding had switched position, cigs
were gone. There was no evidence police
had done anything about the squatter.

I left the squatter a note. I physically took
their sleeping bag downstairs and left it
by the door, on the inside.

From what I observed on that block, there
are plenty of empty houses on the North
Side being breached by squatters. When I
look at a house, now, I'm not only looking
at its condition but always wondering if
somebody is inside.

Anyway...the "don't all stampede at once"
column really set off the discussion. And how!