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Hospitality to the Homeless ˜ 115<br />

culture. In addition, you might be led to question Mayor Campbell’s sense of<br />

beauty.<br />

Perhaps the opening ceremony was somewhat premature, and more trees,<br />

shrubs, and plantings are yet to come. But for now there is much less greenery.<br />

From the northeast corner the park looks like a fortress. And when the water is<br />

turned off, the “cascading waterfall” actually resembles the exposed, barnacle-encrusted,<br />

pocked, and rusted hull of an aging battleship. Beautiful this place<br />

is not.<br />

It could be that this “battleship,” this lifeless wall, is indeed a fitting monument<br />

for the center of Atlanta. The city government and controlling business<br />

interests have pursued a course of destruction in the central city for several generations<br />

now, displacing people seen as undesirable. When these policies of removal<br />

began in the 1950s, it was clear that race was the motivating factor. The<br />

powers in Atlanta did not want African American people in the downtown business<br />

district. So neighborhoods were broken up and gave way to interstate highways;<br />

housing was destroyed, little shops and businesses were forced out, and a<br />

stadium, a civic center, and countless parking lots rolled over the poor. These<br />

practices, which began thirty years ago, resulted in much of the poverty and<br />

homelessness in the African American population we see in our city today.<br />

This pattern of destruction has been repeated, and there is little beauty, culture,<br />

or humanity left. What we have instead is precisely what the powers say<br />

they want: a “sanitized zone,” “vagrant-free,” and deserted enough to appear<br />

safe, devoid of the color of a rich, urban culture whose life has never been antiseptic,<br />

colorless, cold, and heartless.<br />

Eight years ago, the rebirth of Underground Atlanta brought a similar enthusiasm<br />

for displacement and destruction to this current renovation of Woodruff<br />

Park.<br />

Plaza Park, once a lively place filled with street vendors, preachers, homeless<br />

folks, and pedestrians on their way to the Five Points MARTA station, was<br />

razed to make way for the cement, light tower, glitz, and security guards at Underground.<br />

A large number of people made homeless by the destruction of their<br />

neighborhoods were once again displaced from Plaza Park.<br />

Within a stone’s throw of Woodruff Park, thousands of units of single-room<br />

occupancy housing have been demolished since the late 1970s. These SROs were<br />

places where many who would now like to rest in the park could have lived, and<br />

where some of them probably did at one time. Where was the outcry when the<br />

Avon and Capital Hotels were destroyed and replaced with parking decks<br />

Where were the protests when the Francis Hotel was closed, mysteriously<br />

burned, and replaced with John Portman’s latest gleaming tower Where now is<br />

the outcry from any Atlanta government or business leader for housing for Atlanta’s<br />

homeless Their silence is deafening. Instead, editorials and columns

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