DRUG SALES HAVE CONTRIBUTED TO THE DECLINE OF NEIGHBORHOOD

HUNTINGTON -- During the warm months, Trellis Tyson spends much of his time
on the front porch of his home on the 1700 block of Artisan Avenue, less
than a half block from the city's hotbed of drug activity. For a half
century he has watched the neighborhood slip into the condition it is in today.

Car window drug deals are commonplace. They are mostly quick and
incident-free, but occasionally things turn violent and gunshots echo from
the walls of the brick housing projects that line the block. From his front
porch, Tyson sees it all.

He absorbs what he sees take place down the street from his home, but still
tries to just mind his own business.

Watching the street from a distance, it does not take long to see
suspicious activity occurring. Cars circle the block several times and then
stop in the street where the driver has a brief conversation with a person.

After a reach through the window, the conversation ends and the car drives
away.

"They stand right in front of the house and will sell right in front of
you," said Raymond Kelly, a 62-year-old man who lives on the 1600 block of
Artisan Avenue. "They don't care."

Despite the routine drama, Tyson is not frightened by the activity.

"It all goes on down there," he said. "They (drug dealers) usually don't
come up here (to the 1700 block)."

Tyson has lived on Artisan Avenue since the 1950s. He has watched the
decline, and is now feeling some of the side effects of living in a
high-profile drug community.

Across the street from his home on the 1700 block of Artisan Avenue is the
home in which his mother once lived. The two-story house has yellow siding
and a small front yard. With a price tag ringing in at under $20,000, it
would be a nice starter home.

But it has been on the market for five years.

"Some people looked at it once, but that was it," he said. "I can't say
exactly why it won't sell."

Many in the neighborhood know exactly why the house will not sell.

"Nobody wants to live here," Kelly said. "People around here have no
respect for your property."

Kelly said his home has been burglarized more than once. Late at night, he
said, it is not unusual for someone to knock on the door and ask to use the
bathroom, borrow a cigarette or some other odd request.

"They knock at 2 and 3 in the morning," he said. "A lot of it is people
looking for a place to get high."

As recently as 10 years ago, Artisan Avenue was not a bad place to live,
Kelly said.

"All of this stuff wasn't going on back then," he said. "It wasn't a
problem until the 90s when all these boys started selling crack."

Tyson can't pinpoint when things began to change on Artisan Avenue. He
simply remembers a time 30 years ago when he lived in a quiet middle-class
neighborhood and did not have to lock his door. He also remembered when
there was no fear of going outside at night.

"I try to stay inside at night for safety," he said.

Many of the younger people on Artisan Avenue refused to talk about the
things they see in their neighborhood and how they feel about it.

One of those was a woman who lives in an apartment on the 1600 block. She
refused to talk for fear of retaliation. Her mother, who does not live with
her, warned that if she is seen talking to anyone, who looks out of place,
that could result in her being targeted for retaliation.

"You could get her killed," she said.

At least a dozen other people on the 1600 block of Artisan Avenue also
refused to talk publicly about what really goes on in the neighborhood.

There are still reminders that this was once a good neighborhood. An ice
cream truck still makes routine rounds during the summer months, and Young
Chapel AME at the corner of 18th Street and Artisan Avenue still brings in
a crowd on Wednesday nights.

"It is better than some other places I could live," Kelly said.

Even with the problems created by the drug dealers on Artisan Avenue, those
with a history on the street will not move. After 10 years, Kelly has found
a home, and he intends on keeping it.

"They won't make me move out of my house," Kelly said. "You just can't let
that happen."

Tyson also plans to continue sitting on his front porch during the
warm-weather season and watching the neighborhood for years to come. He has
come too far to leave now.

"This is my house."