Berkeley Reporter

by Steed Dropout
January 12, 2012

Running Wolf, organizer of a tree-sit on Cal Berkeley property, the longest urban tree-sit in North America (3 years), was chowing down on a burrito I bought him at the Med — out of guilt because I wouldn’t let him crash at my pad.

“Blood brother,” he scoffed, “and you won’t let me crash.” He was right, I’m a hypocrite, or worse.

I was pushing this blog site, and he was pushing resentment? Resentment is RW’s reason to live. He resents the U.S., which he says stole the country from his ancestors; he resents automobiles, and anyone who drives them, and he resents the University of California for destroying the flora of People’s Park.

Streets bother him, and from time to time he will rip asphalt from the street with a screwdriver, and burn a U.S. flag or two on Telegraph Ave., especially on the Fourth of July, when he went on a flag-burning frenzy.

I have written countless stories about him. We have considered becoming blood brothers, but suspect each other’s blood, and how blood-brother is that?

I sometimes refer to him as RW, because I see him as more of a mogul than a thoughtful radical. Thoughtless or not, he is good at what he does — shit-disturbing.

Up a tree with Running Wolf at Occupy Oakland. Photo by Ted Friedman.

Continue reading “Running Wolf, Hunter S. Thompson and Me” »

by Steed Dropout
January 7, 2012

It was just another down-day in the hood.

This time drugs, and booze were not involved. It was just another bad mood day, after a week of bad SF Bay Area “bad air days,” and my usual winter depression.

I lay in bed for hours unable to move. Should I get groceries, go to the gym, the Caffe Med, or just go crazy. Drink or drugs were not an option.

Falling back on my goal setting psychotherapy, a type of behavioral therapy, I set a simple goal. Get out of my apartment, one-half block from notorious People’s Park, and skirt the park on my way to Telegraph.

If I could make the Ave., I might make a day, I thought.

That’s when I saw the tent in People’s Park. You rarely see tents in the park. They’re prohibited.

The tent, a good-looking rig of colorful fabric, and low-tech steel rods, was going up no more than 10 feet from a park rules sign — banning tents.

Illegal tent in People's Park when 'fur flew.' I am about to investigate story I already knew. Photo by Ted Friedman.

Continue reading “Fur Flies in Berkeley’s People’s Parks, Sans Drugs” »

by Steed Dropout
December 31, 2011

The walls of the 1916 apartment building, its floors, refrigerators, student computers, and the bones of four animals, including Tango, a hamster, are headed for a cement-lined dump in Nevada.

The lead-poisoned remains moldered in a heap on Telegraph Ave. for three weeks as Berkeley officials ran tests, but they will be gone in two weeks, and construction can begin to restore two Teley hot-spots.

I could tell you that hot-spots, used here to describe a cafe and a pub, which burned to the ground, are not puns, but that would be the kinda crap you use in polite society, where puns are disparaged.

Poisoned debris from big fire on Telegraph. Photo by Ted Friedman.

Continue reading “Toxic Rubble on Telegraph; Trouble in People’s Park” »

by Steed Dropout
Dec. 27, 2011

As I have tiresomely noted in my bio-tag following numerous people’s park articles in Berkeley Daily Planet, I have lived a half block from world-famous People’s Park for thirty-one years.

Here’s some of the people’s park articles.

I arrived, 1970, in Berkeley, one year after the bloody battle between hundreds of police and students and townies for what has now become sacred grounds in Berkeley — People’s Park. You could say, I was DOA (dead on arrival) because, even then, I was looking for escape.

Supposing myself under surveillance for my activities with the Hawaii Resistance, a late sixties Oahu-based anti-draft, anti-war movement, if not at risk from the U.S. Naval Reserve (inactive), which could have re-called me to duty, I wanted nothing to do with radical politics.

Gawkers and dreamers. Homeless man an on right schemed to claim bricks from felled Sequoia building, across street,but his plan was doomed from the start. The bricks are too polluted to claim. They are now part of a pile still - nearly a month since the big blaze - awaiting Berkeley officials' clearance for removal.
Photo by Ted Friedman.

Continue reading “Berkeley’s People’s Park and Me — Who Else?” »

by Steed Dropout
Dec. 20, 2011

Who am I now?

A formerly homeless reporter in Berkeley, Ca, or a “self-important” nobody with problems?

Dr. Tim, a friend of ten years has ended our friendship, saying I’m self-important. He called to ask if I’d read some lit book. I replied with, a world-weary rasp, “I’m too busy to read.” I was writing my latest yarn.

“That’s because you’re too self-important.” He always screams into the phone, because a stroke 15 years ago left him severely disabled. After flaming me, he hung up.

I could here discourse on the importance of self importance, but anyone could make the case. In short, self-importance is a relationship with someone you love. Do you want friends with low self-importance?

Ford Mustang flips near Telegraph Avenue. Photo by Ted Friedman.

Continue reading “Blog Fog: Lost In a Blog” »

by Steed Dropout
Dec. 15, 2011

I wondered around downtown feeling sorry for myself and wondering if my low mood would improve in time for me to get kicked out of the meeting, as I expected. The meeting, the Beer Committee, a seat-of-the-pants sub-committee of Occupy Berkeley, was billed as “closed” to the public. Reporters are the public.

A mild anxiety attack ensued when I realized I might have the time, place, or date wrong. Good thing I worked that out, because I was not carrying my anxiety med (Lorazapam). I missed two key meetings recently. I checked with the Jupiter’s manager, where I got some background on Jupiter’s wild popularity.

There seemed no good place to meet at Jupiter, but then I discovered, the super-pub had expanded in the rear for additional outdoor seating. I took some pics, and left to snoop around the neighborhood some more.

Bank of America Plaza, where Occupy Berkeley was born in early October, was freeze-dried empty. The twenty seat semi-circle next to a bus stop, was no longer filled with the likable homeless people, who had co-operated with OB. Even Sister Adriska, chained to her spot, had been frozen out. I hope she she found shelter.

Occupy Berkeley tent tramp. Photo by Ted Friedman.

Continue reading “Downtown, Down-Beat Reporter Hits Bottom” »