Roosevelt Towers

MOST OF THE small and desperate battles fought against poverty in Cambridge are carried out slowly and privately, far from the reach of officials and journalists. Now and then, prompted by some election or dramatic event, an official "crisis" is declared in one of these struggles, and the detailed stories are brought to light, while bureaucrats and community leaders cling by the skin of their reputations to the unraveling tale.

The bureaucrats officially discovered the problems of Roosevelt Towers, an East Cambridge public housing development that is home for a thousand people, in August. At that time, Cambridge Health Commissioner James Hartgering threatened to condemn the 96-unit tower building, which he called "unfit for human habitation."This provoked some discussion, but few people seemed to believe that Hartgering would actually evict tenants.

By September, the young people of the neighborhood assured action by state and city officials. On September 5, 150 youths, organized into rival black and white gangs, battled police for two hours, leaving six wounded. The rioting drew heavy press coverage, and collected a gaggle of officials. At the riot scene, Thomas Atkins, Secretary of the State Department of Communities and Development, met City Manager John Corcoran, and decided to call a meeting of city and state officials at Corcoran's suggestion.

The matter mushroomed from there. A state investigation discovered that $500,000 apportioned for repairs and renovation of Cambridge public housing-including $162,000 for Roosevelt Towers-had never been spent by the Cambridge Housing Authority (CHA). On September 12, in a move which CHA Chairman Castriotta called "a mutual agreement," CHA unanimously dismissed its Executive Director, Reginald Guichard.

The authorities then seized on a plan which would begin renovation without moving tenants. Atkins, noting that Roosevelt Towers was the only Cambridge project without a tenants council, vowed that "not a penny would be spent" until the council was formed.

Renovation work has had some minor impact on the Towers. Built with state aid in 1950, the project fronts on Cambridge Street between Windsor and Willow Streets, in the district beyond Inman Square where tree-shaded Cambridge Street gives way to an area of small stores and decaying factories. The project is between one of these factories and rows of peeling two-story frame houses. Most of its 228 apartments are in five three story low-rise buildings grouped in front of the tower.

The tower itself fronts on a large concrete courtyard, too big for small groups to gather in. Instead, knots of kids gather on the stoops. They used to sit in a gazebo-like hut in the center of the courtyard which was taken down during the renovation effort.

The high rise, where a month ago hallways reeked of urine, now only carries traces of the odor. Holes in the apartment doors are gone, and the entry doors have been repainted an anomalous bright green. Mailboxes, ripped clean from the walls in the tower by thieves looking for checks, have yet to be replaced.

In the lower buildings, the situation has always been dramatically better. The mailboxes are intact, and there is little grafitti in the halls. Rows of plywood windows-signs of burned out apartments-mar only the tower building.

THE CHA has finally gotten around to spending its $162,000 Roosevelt Towers appropriation. "Vandal-proof" lights have been installed on the first floor of the tower building, and CHA plans to put similar lights in the courtyard. Eventually, kitchens will be redone, and some of the buildings re-roofed.

It is doubtful, however, that paint and soap and some lights will seriously dent the pervasive defeatism that accompanies life in the Towers. There is a basic belief among tenants that life grows worse and worse each year. Residents who have seen the project deteriorate cannot conceive of things improving or returning to their old adequacy. An old woman, resident of the tower building for 15 years, shivered as she recalled what has happened to her home. "Things used to be better." Asked to explain why, she just repeated, "Things used to be better."

Built to house a flood of World War II veterans, the Towers has seen most of its original residents leave. Those who could afford them bought their own houses, and now only the poorest and most infirm of the original tenants remain. The families that are taking their place are of a different breed. The Housing Authority estimates that 80 per cent of their applicants for places in public housing are broken families-families with one parent missing, usually the father. These people bring a host of problems which a place like Roosevelt Towers is not equipped to handle.

The Towers display a whole range of classic urban problems. Although the development mirrors the city as a whole in its proportion of black residents-around seven per cent-racism underlies much of the ill-feeling in the development. Blacks are concentrated in the tower building, because turnover there is highest, and they are the latest group to enter the applicant pool for public housing. Asked why conditions in the tower are worse than those in the low-rises, a white youth replied, "Because the niggers live there."

Many residents say drugs are one of the causes of the Towers' problems. One tenant claimed to know four or five families in the tower "who make their living selling the stuff." Burned out apartments, and vandalized mailboxes are often blamed on junkies.

BUT THE basic problem of Roosevelt Towers is that the spirit of its residents has been broken by an environment which they can only perceive as hostile. They are isolated, surrounded by antagonistic people and forces. They find their landlord, the CHA, unresponsive and incompetent. They claim that a contractor hired by CHA to landscape the project had put up dead trees, and that attempts to ascertain the contractor's identity were rebuffed.

Unable to communicate effectively among themselves, the residents call for power to be given back to the project manager to order evictions for violations of the building rules. The problem of dogs has become a major one at tenants meetings. Pets are against project rules, but many tenants claim that dogs are needed for security. Terrified by the fear of reprisals against them, tenants refuse to report crimes they witness on the project grounds. Unprotected and afraid to protect themselves, tower residents continue to live with terror.

The flurry of attention that the Towers has received has done little to change the basic circumstances of life for its residents. Big projects like the Towers may be an idea whose time is past, along with the World War II veterans the Towers used to shelter The Cambridge rent subsidy program, which allows recipients to live in privately owned buildings scattered throughout the city, is now more popular than the projects.

But meanwhile, the Towers remains a dumping grounds for people the bureaucrats find too hard to handle any other way. When the tenants are quiet, they are ignored. When they protest, the official response is automatic and incomplete. One resident summed it up: "We had a riot and the doors were painted. Next week we'll have another and they'll paint the halls." But for the bureaucrats and for each contestant in the small battles with poverty which rage throughout Cambridge, the lesson is clear: paint cannot hide the failures of Roosevelt Towers.