'CRACKHEAD' CRACKDOWN IS HARDLY PERMANENT

The pathetic, filthy, drug-dealing, crime-breeding intersection of
Peachtree and Pine streets, in the center of Atlanta, evolved from an odd
mixture of neglect and good intentions.

True, the police pay sporadic attention. Over the past two weeks, in fact,
with an urgency suggesting panic, they've flooded the zone with so many
cops that most of the crack pushers, addicts and prostitutes have scurried
off. "Crackhead Corner" itself, and the block of Pine outside the sprawling
night shelter for the homeless there, look almost normal for a change.

But the underlying problems are still obvious. The minute the cops leave,
the dealers and such will come back. After all, they've only walked a few
blocks away. They're still busy on Courtland, Linden, Renaissance, Juniper,
Ponce, Piedmont and other streets along the border of downtown and Midtown.
(They're even busier in some poorer parts of town.)

Recent crime reports show few big increases, and several drops, in the
Atlanta Police Department's extensive Zone 5. But the booming residential
population within less than a mile of Peachtree and Pine is very upset
about the streets. So are business people. They're sick of the
drug-dealing, prostitution, in-your-face beggings, car break-ins, camping
in the parks, etc.

Erik Friedly, a spokesman for Fulton County District Attorney Paul Howard,
is tired of being burglarized on 4th Street, being awakened by shouting
prostitutes, being ignored by the folks at 911. He's headed for a new
apartment.

Christina Chan, who works for CARE and who was mugged and robbed 10 days
ago across from Central Park, gave up her apartment last weekend and moved
to Candler Park.

Debbie Friedman, who lives on Carlisle Way, sounds ready to follow: "I
cannot tell you how depressing and demoralizing it is to leave my
condominium at Renaissance Park each and every day," she writes. "I cannot
tell you how scary it can be to walk to work, which I do, or even just to
walk to the mailbox. The sad flow of downtrodden humanity which is
perpetually oozing up and down my street is bleaker than anything else I've
ever seen."

Friedman notes that the area around nearby Central Park has been a human
dumping ground for more than a century. The legacies of white flight and
urban decay are still palpable as well.

Many neighbors have tried to help. The area's wealthier churches (long
after many of their members moved to Buckhead and the suburbs) offer meals,
showers, mail drops, counseling and more.

Most recently, the area has flourished despite its vagrants: During the
'80s and especially the '90s, more and more urban pioneers arrived: gays,
yuppies, downtown employees, retirees, techies. Condos and apartments
mushroomed. Now you see Land Rovers rolling up to the same gas station
where zonked-out addicts buy their crack pipes.

Sadly, the homeless and the hustlers keep arriving, too. And one big reason
has been the huge night shelter at Peachtree and Pine.

The facility has never been managed with enough care. There have been
nights in which 500 or more men crashed there.

It's much too big for the neighborhood. Its clients don't get enough help
or discipline.

Yet it keeps breathing human misery.

You and I and our governments and other institutions have failed to deal
with the region's housing shortages, addicts, mentally ill, destitute,
petty criminals and a host of other types.

A shrewd and gentle ex-cop I know sees it this way: A "perfect storm" of
bad social policy has descended on Peachtree Street in the middle of
Atlanta's latest rebirth.