By Caleb O. Brown
Snitch Staff Writer
“The sign out front says these are supposed to be our twilight years,” says Vickie Taylor of her home, the J.O. Blanton House at Eighth Street and Muhammad Ali Boulevard. “The board and management of this place are making them our nightmare years.”
Taylor sits in her apartment talking with friends, now colleagues, in an effort to fix dozens of problems they claim plague their home. Some residents say safety has sharply declined, leading some to carry knives, icepicks and handguns when they venture downstairs to do laundry.
The residents gathered with Taylor serve on what they call the “Committee for Concerned Residents,” a group formed by the Resident Council at Blanton House. The group says the home’s board of directors has been unresponsive to claims of poor security and other problems on the premises.
Taylor says, “We told them this building was full of dope addicts, sex offenders and prostitutes.”
Lucille Hall, another resident, says she routinely sees drug addicts in the halls and “the security people can’t do anything.”
Ann Pruitt moved into Blanton House three years ago and said she felt it was a safe place for her to live. She says her son now routinely offers to bring her a pistol so she can protect herself.
“All our sons are saying they’ll bring us guns,” says Taylor.
Three floors up, Vivian Gibson says she moved into Blanton house Dec. 2, 1972, and she’s noticed a decline in her own feeling of safety only in the last three years.
“You’re afraid to go to the garbage room to drop off your garbage. Used to be no problem taking it down there at two or three in the morning. Not anymore.”
The risks are not lost on Carlos Lynes, who is the chairman of the Blanton House board of directors.
“They complain that people are coming in with drugs,” he says. “I’m sure it’s happening. It wouldn’t surprise me at all, but none of that has been substantiated. Without proof, we can’t do anything.”
Lynes says he doesn’t understand why residents are carrying firearms in the building.
“The place is secure,” he says.
“That’s his opinion, but he’s only there once a month,” says another Blanton House board member who refused to be named for this story. “The police got rid of some drug dealers and prostitutes, but when the police left, those people came back. I want to see the place safe for our residents. It’s their home.”
At least part of the fight between residents and the board of directors is over who provides security to the building. Just four months ago, Lynes says, the board moved to allow off-duty Louisville police officers serve as security guards on weekends. Lynes says the police presence was a response to residents who claimed they’d witnessed drug activity in the building. Since switching from off-duty cops to a private security firm - Commonwealth Security - Lynes says residents have gotten angry.
“All of this has happened since we got rid of the Louisville Police Department,” Lynes says. “Three years ago, we didn’t have security in the building. I don’t think the situation has changed that much in that time. The complaints about security usually come around the first of the month, when people get paid.”
One of those complaints came a year ago, when Lula Ross says she was attacked on Aug. 31.
She says the attacker kept his hands on her throat, repeating “Where’s the money?!” Ross says she fought off the attacker successfully.
Taylor says that attack and other threats serve as reason enough for a police presence in the building. Taylor says Louisville police serving as security in the building are just better at policing the building.
“They knew the players and the hustlers and the dealers and they knew how to stop them,” she says.
Taylor adds that Louisville police are armed and have the ability to arrest people, whereas a security officer for a private firm would have to call the police.
Last month, residents achieved mixed results when they approached the board of directors to deal with issues of security and sanitation in the building.
“We had about 25 people who came up. They voiced their concerns and I have a listing of the complaints. It just so happened that the man who manages the property was there, also. I received from him a letter as to what he has done as far as correcting many of the issues,” Taylor says.
Concerned Residents committee member Ann Pruit says it was more like 30 people, and that they followed up with letters to the board and to the recently hired property management firm, TESCO Properties. TESCO Managing Agent Larry Sisson could not be reached for comment at his office in Germantown, Tenn.
Lynes says he is waiting on proof from residents of drug activity, even though he admits that he’s sure there is some in the building.
“They complained that there was drug activity there,” says Lynes. “They complained about prostitution in the building. We asked them to sign an affidavit, and no one would sign an affidavit. If they know of someone who is pushing drugs or bringing drugs in, those residents can indicate that to management, but they have not done this.”
Pruitt and Taylor say no one has asked them to sign any affidavit about what they have witnessed.
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Friendly Fanatics
By Caleb O. Brown
Snitch Staff Writer
5:29 left in the first quarter. The Vikings are up 7-zip against the rival Green Bay Packers. Veteran Packer fan Carol Krebs sits at Dutch’s Tavern wearing several strands of beads and a #4 Brett Favre jersey, her hands crossed in her lap.
“It’s not normally this quiet in here.”
She sighs and whispers, “It’s because we’re losing, that’s why.”
The stage at Dutch’s is bare, save the large pull-down screen telling viewers, whether they like it or not, “The NFC is on FOX.”
On the front row of Dutch’s makeshift sideline sits “Spike.”
Outside football season he’s known as Wayne Baxter. At Dutch’s he’s Spike, a fan permanently tagged with Packer tattoos on each arm, his wrists taped, his body draped in a #38 Packers jersey. Spike, not Wayne, rarely sits still in the green folding chair he brought from home as he shouts occasional obscenities at the screen.
Behind the bar sits the vaunted Grant-Lombardi trophy, a strange mix of a mannequin head, a cheesehead hat and Viking horns all painted up purple and green. Dutch’s has the honor of keeping the trophy, at least for now.
Down the block and across the street at Gerstle’s, Viking fans — the so-called Derby City Norsemen — can’t wait to deflower Green Bay’s newly renovated Lambeau Field with a severe thumping for the Packers.
Norseman Ken Rowan spent part of the first half yelling “Take that, Packer fan!” to one of the few Green Bay backers in Gerstle’s. As Eddie Johnson splits the uprights with a 46-yard field goal, making it 17-3 in favor of the Vikings, Rowan is grinning from ear to ear.
“I hate the Packers so much,” he chuckles, schadenfreude smeared across his face. “They won a bunch of championships when it didn’t matter, and now they think they’re gods.”
Behind Dutch’s, fans throw around a football, lamenting their poor Packers first-half turnovers.
“Brett’s throwin’ at things that don’t exist,” Spike says. “He’s havin’ a horrible day. No sooner do we get some passing and we get picked off.”
12:30 left in the third. Vikes fans bellow “Oooh!” as the Packer quarterback’s bad day continues. Favre is sacked.
Mike Summers, a Norseman, says he can smell the trophy making the one-block trek back to Gerstle’s but wants to wait a little longer before making any predictions.
“It’s in our grasp, but there’s still time left.”
1:30 left in the third. Packers drive for a touchdown, but the Vikings are still up by 16.
The green-and-yellow crowd at Dutch’s begins to chant, “Spike! Spike! Spike!”
He swaggers onto the stage, puts on his Packers helmet, pauses, then throws down a green and yellow plastic football, cueing the cheers of his fellow fans.
Spike and his wife, Candice, got married in Dutch’s Tavern. It was, Candice says, a “Packer-themed” wedding.
Vikes fail in a charge toward the end zone, but a field goal makes it 30-11.
Fairweather Packers fans begin to drift out the front door.
9:23 left in the fourth quarter. A desperate Packers fan screams, “Don’t huddle up, you don’t have all f***ing day!”
Elizabeth Naze, decked out in her Green Bay earrings, says — despite the score — being at Dutch’s is almost like being at Lambeau Field. She’s from Green Bay and has lived in Louisville for about six months.
“I’m less homesick when I’m here,” she says.
Even though she’s sensing the outcome will not be to her liking, Naze still finds Louisville’s Vikes fans to be “far more tame” than those up north.
“They get a little mean,” she says. “They’re actually worse than Raiders fans.”
Steve Johnson, a longtime Dutch’s Packers fan, now resigned to the outcome, says, “They’ll be here in three or four minutes.”
Two Green Bay touchdowns in the fourth quarter have changed Ken Rowan’s tune. The Norseman is sipping a beer and rhetorically preparing himself for the worst.
“This is way more intense than it should be,” Rowan says. “We outplayed them for three quarters. Now we suddenly have a game on our hands. If we lose this, it’s a fluke. It’s just a fluke.”
But the Vikings hang on, and as the clock ticks down to 30 seconds with Minnesota up by five, Norseman Dan McGowan blows the horn, beckoning his brethren to trek to Dutch’s to seize the prize.
Down and across Shelbyville Road, a purple throng chanting “Here we go, Vikings! Here we go!” makes its way into Dutch’s.
“Give it up!” yells a fan, as a bartender takes down the trophy and hands it over. The rowdy fans grab the symbol of supremacy and shuffle back to home base.
Sports broadcaster Dave Jennings, a Packers fan who spent the game with gloating Vikes fans, says the game isn’t really the important thing.
“Football’s back, that’s what matters. Win or lose, at least I’m not watching the World’s Strongest Man Competition on ESPN2.”
Snitch Staff Writer
5:29 left in the first quarter. The Vikings are up 7-zip against the rival Green Bay Packers. Veteran Packer fan Carol Krebs sits at Dutch’s Tavern wearing several strands of beads and a #4 Brett Favre jersey, her hands crossed in her lap.
“It’s not normally this quiet in here.”
She sighs and whispers, “It’s because we’re losing, that’s why.”
The stage at Dutch’s is bare, save the large pull-down screen telling viewers, whether they like it or not, “The NFC is on FOX.”
On the front row of Dutch’s makeshift sideline sits “Spike.”
Outside football season he’s known as Wayne Baxter. At Dutch’s he’s Spike, a fan permanently tagged with Packer tattoos on each arm, his wrists taped, his body draped in a #38 Packers jersey. Spike, not Wayne, rarely sits still in the green folding chair he brought from home as he shouts occasional obscenities at the screen.
Behind the bar sits the vaunted Grant-Lombardi trophy, a strange mix of a mannequin head, a cheesehead hat and Viking horns all painted up purple and green. Dutch’s has the honor of keeping the trophy, at least for now.
Down the block and across the street at Gerstle’s, Viking fans — the so-called Derby City Norsemen — can’t wait to deflower Green Bay’s newly renovated Lambeau Field with a severe thumping for the Packers.
Norseman Ken Rowan spent part of the first half yelling “Take that, Packer fan!” to one of the few Green Bay backers in Gerstle’s. As Eddie Johnson splits the uprights with a 46-yard field goal, making it 17-3 in favor of the Vikings, Rowan is grinning from ear to ear.
“I hate the Packers so much,” he chuckles, schadenfreude smeared across his face. “They won a bunch of championships when it didn’t matter, and now they think they’re gods.”
Behind Dutch’s, fans throw around a football, lamenting their poor Packers first-half turnovers.
“Brett’s throwin’ at things that don’t exist,” Spike says. “He’s havin’ a horrible day. No sooner do we get some passing and we get picked off.”
12:30 left in the third. Vikes fans bellow “Oooh!” as the Packer quarterback’s bad day continues. Favre is sacked.
Mike Summers, a Norseman, says he can smell the trophy making the one-block trek back to Gerstle’s but wants to wait a little longer before making any predictions.
“It’s in our grasp, but there’s still time left.”
1:30 left in the third. Packers drive for a touchdown, but the Vikings are still up by 16.
The green-and-yellow crowd at Dutch’s begins to chant, “Spike! Spike! Spike!”
He swaggers onto the stage, puts on his Packers helmet, pauses, then throws down a green and yellow plastic football, cueing the cheers of his fellow fans.
Spike and his wife, Candice, got married in Dutch’s Tavern. It was, Candice says, a “Packer-themed” wedding.
Vikes fail in a charge toward the end zone, but a field goal makes it 30-11.
Fairweather Packers fans begin to drift out the front door.
9:23 left in the fourth quarter. A desperate Packers fan screams, “Don’t huddle up, you don’t have all f***ing day!”
Elizabeth Naze, decked out in her Green Bay earrings, says — despite the score — being at Dutch’s is almost like being at Lambeau Field. She’s from Green Bay and has lived in Louisville for about six months.
“I’m less homesick when I’m here,” she says.
Even though she’s sensing the outcome will not be to her liking, Naze still finds Louisville’s Vikes fans to be “far more tame” than those up north.
“They get a little mean,” she says. “They’re actually worse than Raiders fans.”
Steve Johnson, a longtime Dutch’s Packers fan, now resigned to the outcome, says, “They’ll be here in three or four minutes.”
Two Green Bay touchdowns in the fourth quarter have changed Ken Rowan’s tune. The Norseman is sipping a beer and rhetorically preparing himself for the worst.
“This is way more intense than it should be,” Rowan says. “We outplayed them for three quarters. Now we suddenly have a game on our hands. If we lose this, it’s a fluke. It’s just a fluke.”
But the Vikings hang on, and as the clock ticks down to 30 seconds with Minnesota up by five, Norseman Dan McGowan blows the horn, beckoning his brethren to trek to Dutch’s to seize the prize.
Down and across Shelbyville Road, a purple throng chanting “Here we go, Vikings! Here we go!” makes its way into Dutch’s.
“Give it up!” yells a fan, as a bartender takes down the trophy and hands it over. The rowdy fans grab the symbol of supremacy and shuffle back to home base.
Sports broadcaster Dave Jennings, a Packers fan who spent the game with gloating Vikes fans, says the game isn’t really the important thing.
“Football’s back, that’s what matters. Win or lose, at least I’m not watching the World’s Strongest Man Competition on ESPN2.”
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