News (Media Awareness Project) - US CA: Drug-Fight Success Becomes Obstacle |
Title: | US CA: Drug-Fight Success Becomes Obstacle |
Published On: | 2000-04-11 |
Source: | Los Angeles Times, Pomona Valley Edition |
Fetched On: | 2008-09-04 22:08:27 |
DRUG-FIGHT SUCCESS BECOMES OBSTACLE
*Upland Housing Authority Leader Pushes For Bill That Would Free
Federal Funds For Prevention In Areas Without Problems.
UPLAND -- When Xenia "Sam" Sabo took a job as a receptionist with the
Upland Housing Authority right out of high school in 1973, the
100-unit public housing complex the authority ran was home to violence
and fear.
She eventually took over as executive director, and she and the
authority transformed the complex without a penny of federal money
earmarked for fighting crime in public housing.
But now times are tough fiscally for Upland and Sabo feels she cannot
ask a short-staffed Police Department to spend as much time as she
would like in maintaining the order they all fought so hard to
restore. Sabo wants to pay the police for their time, she said. About
$40,000 a year would do it, Sabo said.
A 1988 federal law provides money to public housing authorities to
combat drug problems but the Upland Housing Authority is ineligible --
because it has no drug problem anymore.
This frustrated Sabo. She took her frustration to Rep. Gary Miller
(R-Diamond Bar) the last week in March while attending a conference in
Washington, D.C.
He was sympathetic and got to work on an amendment to a bill that was
coming up for a vote of the House of Representatives.
"It is absolutely absurd that (those) who have worked hard to
eliminate drug problems in their public housing are penalized by the
federal government if they are successful," Miller said.
A week after Sabo's visit, Miller's office called her and gave her two
hours to draft the amendment's language. She wrote it up and the next
day the bill passed unanimously with Miller's amendment attached.
The bill is likely to go to the Senate in May, said Miller aide John
Cusey.
Estes gave Miller credit but said the real hero is
Sabo.
"I guess she presented a very convincing case," he
said.
When Sabo started working for the housing authority, just 12 or 13
families terrorized the other 87 or 88 families in the one-story
duplex units at North Campus Avenue and 13th Street.
"Ooooh, God! Was there a problem," Sabo recalled Monday. Murders,
drive-by shootings, drug dealing that made the complex a narcotics
mecca, family feuding that turned bloody -- "it was nasty," she said.
Housing authority staff were as frightened as residents.
"You heard a car backfire and everybody dove under their desk," Sabo
said.
Firefighters and police officers responded to calls and while they
were busy, unruly residents threw rocks at their vehicles -- if they
weren't overturning them, she said. The place was so tough, Sabo said,
that even police wouldn't come in without ample backup.
"It was just a war zone," said Coy Estes, who was police chief at the
time (he retired in 1990) and is now chairman of the housing authority
board of directors. Several officers were fired upon, he said.
In 1980, Sabo became the housing authority's executive director. A
woman so petite that a stiff breeze might threaten her ability to
stand straight, she decided she was going to turn the place around.
With substantial help from police and residents, changes in
legislation she pushed for that made it easier to screen public
housing applicants, and plenty of grit and determination, Sabo
reclaimed the complex in about three years. "I'd tell everybody" to
live here, 12-year tenant Ana Guerra said Monday outside her
pastel-colored unit as children played nearby.
Many would-be residents are familiar with the place.
"We have a five-year waiting list," Sabo said.
*Upland Housing Authority Leader Pushes For Bill That Would Free
Federal Funds For Prevention In Areas Without Problems.
UPLAND -- When Xenia "Sam" Sabo took a job as a receptionist with the
Upland Housing Authority right out of high school in 1973, the
100-unit public housing complex the authority ran was home to violence
and fear.
She eventually took over as executive director, and she and the
authority transformed the complex without a penny of federal money
earmarked for fighting crime in public housing.
But now times are tough fiscally for Upland and Sabo feels she cannot
ask a short-staffed Police Department to spend as much time as she
would like in maintaining the order they all fought so hard to
restore. Sabo wants to pay the police for their time, she said. About
$40,000 a year would do it, Sabo said.
A 1988 federal law provides money to public housing authorities to
combat drug problems but the Upland Housing Authority is ineligible --
because it has no drug problem anymore.
This frustrated Sabo. She took her frustration to Rep. Gary Miller
(R-Diamond Bar) the last week in March while attending a conference in
Washington, D.C.
He was sympathetic and got to work on an amendment to a bill that was
coming up for a vote of the House of Representatives.
"It is absolutely absurd that (those) who have worked hard to
eliminate drug problems in their public housing are penalized by the
federal government if they are successful," Miller said.
A week after Sabo's visit, Miller's office called her and gave her two
hours to draft the amendment's language. She wrote it up and the next
day the bill passed unanimously with Miller's amendment attached.
The bill is likely to go to the Senate in May, said Miller aide John
Cusey.
Estes gave Miller credit but said the real hero is
Sabo.
"I guess she presented a very convincing case," he
said.
When Sabo started working for the housing authority, just 12 or 13
families terrorized the other 87 or 88 families in the one-story
duplex units at North Campus Avenue and 13th Street.
"Ooooh, God! Was there a problem," Sabo recalled Monday. Murders,
drive-by shootings, drug dealing that made the complex a narcotics
mecca, family feuding that turned bloody -- "it was nasty," she said.
Housing authority staff were as frightened as residents.
"You heard a car backfire and everybody dove under their desk," Sabo
said.
Firefighters and police officers responded to calls and while they
were busy, unruly residents threw rocks at their vehicles -- if they
weren't overturning them, she said. The place was so tough, Sabo said,
that even police wouldn't come in without ample backup.
"It was just a war zone," said Coy Estes, who was police chief at the
time (he retired in 1990) and is now chairman of the housing authority
board of directors. Several officers were fired upon, he said.
In 1980, Sabo became the housing authority's executive director. A
woman so petite that a stiff breeze might threaten her ability to
stand straight, she decided she was going to turn the place around.
With substantial help from police and residents, changes in
legislation she pushed for that made it easier to screen public
housing applicants, and plenty of grit and determination, Sabo
reclaimed the complex in about three years. "I'd tell everybody" to
live here, 12-year tenant Ana Guerra said Monday outside her
pastel-colored unit as children played nearby.
Many would-be residents are familiar with the place.
"We have a five-year waiting list," Sabo said.
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