GET THE POINT: 'NEEDLE LADY' SHOULD BE SENT PACKING

Letting somebody drive into a residential neighborhood and give away
needles to junkies is the craziest idea that's come this way in a long
time. It's as bizarre as any urban legend that's gone around, but it's
true. Unfortunately.

Every Wednesday, Beth Wehrman cruises through Peoria's South Side, pulls
over and hands out needles and syringes to drug addicts who, neighbors
complain, sometimes shoot up in public view and throw the refuse onto their
property. This goes on near a school, near businesses and near homes. And
this, Wehrman would have you believe, is good for the city because it will
reduce the incidence of AIDS.

Don't you believe her. The weekly appearance of the "needle lady" (as the
neighbors call her) is a hideous threat to this neighborhood and to any
city that permits it. It lures junkies in. Junkies scare good homeowners,
renters and businesses away. It tells kids that drug use must be more than
OK, it must be very good, because otherwise somebody wouldn't be handing
out needles for free. Even the ice cream man makes you pay. It gives
suburbanites one more reason to stay there and Peorians one new reason to
think about moving out.

The needle exchange program is part of an effort to limit the spread of
AIDS by encouraging addicts to return their used needles and shoot up with
clean ones. Nearly one-fourth of new AIDS cases can be traced to
contaminated needle reuse. Wehrman, a nurse, runs a Rock Island based
agency which partners with a Chicago alliance that says it is engaged in
public health research about needles. She also has a grant from the
Champaign-Urbana Public Health which is supposed to be used for prevention
and education. Wehrman also hands out condoms and gives hepatitis
immunizations and HIV tests.

While the support for needle exchanges is growing to counteract the threat
of AIDS, there are a number of reasons for communities to embrace them
reluctantly. Drugs can kill; sterilizing a needle does not make usage safe.
Illegal drug use is illegal; cities should not abet those who would break
the law. Junkies destroy families and communities; society should not
sanction or enable them.

Whatever the role for privately funded needle exchanges might be should be
limited to programs operated in conjunction with a broader effort to wean
people off drugs. There is some evidence that addicts who come to agencies
for clean needles become receptive, over time, to starting treatment. But a
clinic, where a counselor is available, is a far cry from a street-corner
encounter with a nurse in a car who says it's not her job to recommend that
abusers see the light.

Tonight the Peoria City Council will consider an ordinance that would limit
the sale or exchange of needles to a building in a part of town that is not
residentially zoned, and also require the distributor to tell the police
when and where he'll be working. Corporation counsel Randy Ray believes
this is as far as state law permits cities to go. Wehrman maintains that if
she is forced to move to a storefront or clinic, she won't be able to reach
as many people.

That would be wonderful.

The first responsibility of any city is not to keep its drug addicts
healthy but to protect the people who live and work in its neighborhoods,
who obey the law every day and who are trying to teach their children to do
the same. Residents of the Olde Towne South neighborhood where Wehrman sets
up shop already put up with too many neighborhood vermin. They shouldn't
have to advertise for imports.

The Peoria City Council should do whatever it takes to put this huckster
wagon out of business. Then it should ask the state Legislature to take a
second look at the 50-year-old law that courts have said justifies
street-corner giveaways if the distributor says she's doing important
research. That's really preposterous.