STREET SAVVY

South East Street residents band together to save neighborhood from drug
dealers, become a political force in Culpeper

Culpeper Neighborhood Proves You Can Fight City Hall

WHEN FORMER Culpeper Mayor Waller Jones dis-cussed his upset loss in a bid
for a fourth term this spring, he mentioned the role of a small core of
political activists.

He was referring to the South East (Street) Neighborhood Watch.

During convocation services at Culpeper County High School last month,
Gerri Ludwig presented a senior with a $3,200 scholarship--the largest
local award given. It came from the South East Neighborhood Watch.

Last December, more than 500 people got a glimpse of historic Culpeper
homes during a Christmas tour. It was sponsored and conducted by the South
East Neighborhood Watch.

What began 10 years ago as a community effort to rid the block of drug
dealers has evolved into a close-knit group of neighbors that has become
deeply involved in social and philanthropic issues and is arguably the
county's second most powerful political force--behind the Republican Party.

"We're still fundamentally a public-safety group," says Gary Close, the
county's commonwealth's attorney and a South East Street resident. "But we
have expanded our mission."

That mission now includes making substantial donations to such causes as
the Culpeper County Library and the Culpeper Literacy Council, as well as
providing college scholarships.

It also involves wielding substantial political clout. A two-block section
of East Street is now home to town Mayor Pranas Rimeikis, Town Council
member Laura LaFlair, county Supervisor Steve Walker, town Planning
Commission member Tony Kimery and county prosecutor Close.

All but Close have been elected in the past three years. All had the
backing of the South East Neighborhood Watch.

In addition, the campaign manager for Councilman Tom Huggard, the top
vote-getter in this year's municipal election, lives in the neighborhood.

"We don't make donations to political candidates, but we do discuss the
issues at our meetings," Close says. "And if you live on South East Street
and you want to run for office, I'm going to support you."

Political activism, Close says, comes as a direct result of his group's
battles with the town government during the early years of the Neighborhood
Watch.

The fight to get police to do something about crime in the neighborhood and
a bitter struggle with the Town Council and Mayor Jones to save a historic
home on East Street left indelible marks on the psyches of the group's members.

"We never forgot," Close says.

Taking up the fight The South East Neighborhood Watch came into being a few
weeks after Tom Hennaman, its first president, had an unsettling experience
one night in 1992.

"From my bedroom window, I could see three or four guys standing on the
corner," the computer analyst recalls. "I was going to work at 11 p.m. and
when I went out there these guys started hollering at me."

Hennaman, who says he saw the men making drug deals, promptly went to the
police and told them he was concerned both about the illegal street-corner
sales and the fact that his wife, Sue, was home alone at night.

"The police came the next night and I saw one of the dealers slap the cop
on the back and say something to him," says Hennaman. "Then the police car
moved off."

It was at about this time that Close, the newly elected commonwealth's
attorney, moved onto the troubled street and quickly realized there was a
problem.

"I noticed all these cars every night and the hooting and hollering, and I
knew something was wrong," says Close.

It was Richard and Jacki Kaiser, however, who spurred the neighborhood into
action. The artisan couple bought an old home on the street and were
dismayed after they moved in.

"We used to be afraid to sit on our porch," Jacki Kaiser says. "There were
shootings and the language on the street was terrible."

The Kaisers decided to find out what their neighbors thought and printed up
a flier they took door to door. It stated simply that if others perceived a
problem on the street they should attend a meeting at the Kaiser house on a
specified date.

"There were 29 people that showed up at that meeting," says Jacki Kaiser,
who remembers because the foot traffic all but ruined her newly varnished
floor.

There was even a member of the Town Council in attendance, Kaiser recalls.

"[The council member] told us that if we did come to a council meeting we
shouldn't mention that we had a drug problem on our street because that
would give the town a bad image."

The group, however, did take its concerns to the council and emphasized
that they had a neighborhood drug problem. The council, all agree, wanted
to turn a deaf ear to the situation.

"Part of our problem was that the town government said there was no
problem," Close says. "We soon realized that we were going to have to take
care of this ourselves."

So the neighbors, who really didn't know each other well, decided to band
together in a common cause. The Neighborhood Watch was born. They would
fight for their community.

Persuading the police Members took up positions at night and counted the
cars that went down East Street and onto Chandler, where a single house
seemed to be at the center of the drug activity.

"The [weekend] traffic going down Chandler averaged out to one car every
three minutes over a 24-hour period," Kaiser recalls. "There were license
plates from all over--including D.C.--and every car that went in there
stayed three minutes or less. We could look down Chandler Street and see
the cars lined up."

The group reported its findings to the police, but members say they got
little response--except a warning that they were not law-enforcement
officials and had no business out on the street.

The neighbors ignored that advice and continued their war against the
dealers. They had caps made up with "SENW" on the front, wore armbands and,
in groups of three or more, patrolled the streets on a nightly basis.

Devising their own tactics, they took down the license-plate numbers of
cars passing by and yelled them out to each other in a further attempt to
intimidate those involved in the illegal drug trade.

"We kinda looked like police," Hennaman says.

When town police admitted they did not know how to effectively fight the
East Street drug war, the group brought in a retired police chief from
Petersburg and held a meeting.

The group got high-tech, using walkie-talkies and even setting up a night
video-surveillance camera in an attic.

The dealers responded with intimidation tactics of their own. There were
numerous instances of name-calling, and cars often drove slowly past the
patrollers to try to frighten them.

"Some guy got out one night with dogs and walked around trying to scare
us," says Close, who admits some of the tactics were frightening. "I felt
like we were living on the frontier there for a while, but we were not
giving up our homes."

Kaiser, however, says that she was not intimidated by all the threats.

"Scared of what? she asks. "When one lady told me that they [the drug
dealers] knew where I lived, I replied that I didn't care, that I wanted to
know where they lived."

A shooting at a Chandler Street home where illegal activity was suspected
brought the FBI into the picture. One of those arrested after the shooting
was convicted as a drug kingpin from Washington and remains in jail to this
day, Hennaman says.

After a shooting at another house, watch members took pictures of the
bullet holes and gathered evidence.

They widened the scope of their nightly patrols to include the eastern end
of Davis Street and the railroad depot, then an especially seamy area. They
walked the dark streets until 2 or 3 in the morning in all kinds of weather.

The group pressured the Town Council into passing a noise ordinance that
would eliminate the loud boom boxes that many of the street people carried.

And, Hennaman says, the group pushed the police to take a more active role
in the East Street war.

"Eventually, we got wonderful police cooperation," says Kaiser. "The chief
began sending cars down and officers would sit there from 10 p.m. until 2
a.m. as a deterrent.

"We would take them hot chocolate and cookies or bake them muffins and
doughnuts. We just wanted to say, 'Thank you.'"

Expanding its mission Although the police presence eased the crime problem,
the group soon found itself in conflict with the Town Council on another
issue: saving a 19th-century, two-story home at the corner of East and
Chandler known as the Reams House.

The town bought the property intending to tear down the house to widen
Chandler Street, which led to the town's power plant.

The Reams House, Close recalls, was abandoned and the yard had become a
hangout for drug dealers. The neighborhood group wanted the house cleaned
up, but not torn down.

It mounted a campaign to save the structure.

"We made signs, talked to people and negotiated with the town," Close recalls.

At one point, the town told the group that if it could find a buyer who
would restore the old home, the council would sell it for $1.

"We found a buyer and they reneged," says Close, who notes that Mayor Jones
was at the forefront of the effort to tear down the Reams House.

"It makes me mad, what happened there," he says. "That explains why we are
so politically active now."

The group eventually saved the Reams House. It was sold--for substantially
more than $1--and moved back on its lot to allow for the Chandler Street
widening.

After almost three years of extraordinary effort, the neighborhood also won
its battle with the illegal drug traffic. Hounded by residents, the dealers
finally gave up and moved on.

The Reams House has been restored and stands as both the pride of the
neighborhood and a testament to the neighborhood's tenacity. Its new owner,
Gerri Ludwig, is now vice president of the watch group.

Historic preservation efforts, however, did not end with the saving of the
Reams House. A few years ago, Close and two neighbors took it upon
themselves to buy and renovate another home on the street that was in
foreclosure and was destined to become a duplex apartment.

They sold that home for the money they had in it, and are now considering
saving a third threatened home on the block.

South East Neighborhood Watch still holds monthly meetings, attended by a
police representative. It is active in politics, conducts periodic
neighborhood cleanups and works for the good of the town by sponsoring
house tours, holding Easter egg hunts and helping fund worthwhile projects.

It has also helped other neighborhoods start similar watch programs.

Older neighbors, like Louise White, Josephine Chelf and Jeanette Callahan,
act as a welcoming committee and visit neighborhood newcomers. Chelf hosts
the group's annual crab feast in her back yard.

"These days, we call ourselves the East Street Irregulars," jokes Marie
Johnson, the group's current president. "There are so many artisans and
free spirits, and now we are more or less a social club."

The watch group may be a social club, but it is one with plenty of clout.
Local politicians will attest to that fact. And this social club is now
part of the quietest and most prestigious neighborhood in Culpeper.

Their struggle--and success--is a tribute to American determination. And it
shows that people can have an impact on the place where they live.

Says Ludwig: "I think this neighborhood watch now plays a great part in
making Culpeper a beautiful town."