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Storyteller takes look at Anchorage's homeless

March 09, 2010
  • Mark Horvath recently took a tour of a homeless camp in Anchorage. (Dan Carpenter/KTUU-DT)
Mark Horvath recently took a tour of a homeless camp in Anchorage. (Dan Carpenter/KTUU-DT)

by Ashton Goodell
Monday, March 8, 2010

ANCHORAGE, Alaska -- It's hard to say exactly what Mark Horvath does.

"I call it reality Twittering," he says.

"I talk about, ‘Hey I'm going to do a ride along with Sgt. Allen... come along with me,'" he said of his work.

He carries a video camera and documents social problems, but he's not really making a documentary.

Maybe he's an activist, but still, he'd prefer being called something else.

"I consider myself a storyteller," he says.

Alaska's homelessness intrigued the storyteller, who describes it as a sad story of alcohol abuse.

Anchorage police took him to Lion's Park in Mountain View, where homeless camps hide in the trees just off the walking trails.

"First of all they're illegal camps. Second of all they are burning, they're cutting down trees and burning them in a burn barrel, which is definitely a no-no," Sgt. Denny Allen said of the camps.

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"I see both sides to the problem. The gentleman that we met at the camp, he really has no place to go, and he points at a 12-pack of beer and says ‘This is my problem.' And he's done the shelter and timed out, so now he's out here. But it's also a safety issue," Horvath said.

Horvath lives in Southern California. The former television producer travels the country meeting homeless people.

From his travels, he's found that the face of poverty is the same everywhere.

"It's hard. You know, it could happen to anybody if you are living paycheck to paycheck. If you don't get that paycheck then you are out on the street," said Dee, one of the homeless people Horvath has talked to.

Short stories depicting deep pain are posted on Horvath's Web site, invisiblepeople.tv, and constantly promoted from his iPhone.

"A friend of mine died this winter. He was the first one to die this year;  he was a homeless inebriate. His name was Nick Cho. They found an empty bottle of Listerine next to him in the snow bank. He apparently died of hypothermia," said Kim, another of Horvath's subjects.

Thirteen of Anchorage's homeless were found dead over a relatively short span in 2009. Cho was the first.

He tells stories about health problems, drug addictions and job loss. 

The first story he ever did, now ranked at the bottom of the page, is without question his most memorable.

"Back in 1995 I lived in this park… I had two shirts, a pair of jeans. And I cared a kitchen knife, which I thought I would use for survival. But more often than not, I sat on this very park bench contemplating suicide, thinking about how I'm going to slice my wrist with this kitchen knife," Horvath says in the video titled "My Story".

He's been sober for 15 years now, but Horvath know for those still sleeping on the streets, it's nearly impossible to stay away from drugs and alcohol.

To regain dignity he says people need housing first, a model Anchorage has used for years, but now the city wants to expand the project.

"This is a permanent solution to homelessness. It's not going to solve all of our homeless problems in Anchorage, but it is a chance to make a big dent in this constant revolving door of homelessness and shelters and back to homelessness again," said Melinda Freemon with RurAL CAP.

The Anchorage Assembly set regulations outlining the project last week and is surveying potential locations, including the Red Roof inn at 5th Avenue and Karluk Street.

The plan would allow alcoholics to continue drinking while they pay rent and receive treatment.

"They are far from idle and it allows people to again regain their dignity, reduce all the cost of emergency services, so it really is a win-win for any community," Freemon said.

In February the Fairview Community Council rejected the idea, saying the area already has too many intoxicated homeless people.

Ron Alleva has lived in the neighborhood for 28 years.

A tour of the block shows a depressed industrial area overrun.

"See these guys sleeping. They sleep everywhere," he says, referring to a person sleeping on a bench.

Street drunks in his front yard get pushed from one spot to another.

"We thought that the homeless should be treated with dignity, care and compassion. And I still believe that," Alleva said.

But they still drink, and never alone.

From that, Alleva figures the only way to change someone's life is by pulling them out of the cycle, away from their friends.

"The Red Roof Inn is just another horse on the carousel, of the merry-go-round of the shelter, the soup kitchen, sleep-off, jail, and when they kick those people out they are out of here; and they are in our neighborhood," Alleva said.

In a tough neighborhood, keeping the threat out started with fences, then signs, now junkyard dogs and a gun.

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