By Jane Prendergast
The Cincinnati Enquirer

Richard Witherspoon, 36, has been living in a tent under the Third Street overpass for the past month. (Steven M. Herppich photo) | ZOOM |

Homeless people camped under Cincinnati bridges have until Friday to get out or face removal by police.

"No Trespassing" signs went up Tuesday under the interstate ramps where dozens of people live. Officers told anyone they found that they had 72 hours to leave. They'll be back Friday to make sure everyone is gone.

"I don't know where I'm going to go," said Richard Witherspoon, a 36-year-old new grandfather whose tent along the Third Street exit from Interstate 71 particularly annoyed Mayor Charlie Luken. "I'll just have to find some place."

Luken and police officials say the encampments are dangerous to the homeless people living in them as well as to drivers who get distracted when they pass the piles of blankets and bags of garbage. They also say Witherspoon's tent doesn't project a good image of the city.

But advocates for homeless people say this is just another way Cincinnati, already cracking down on panhandlers by requiring them to be licensed, shows its misguided priorities. The same city officials considering whether to give Convergys $63.4 million to keep its operations downtown, they say, are criminalizing homelessness.

"The people of Cincinnati don't want to persecute homeless people," said Georgine Getty, director of the Greater Cincinnati Coalition for the Homeless. "It's a small group of politicians who've decided to make this a problem.''

In 2001, a coalition study estimated that 25,000 people experience homelessness in Cincinnati each year. A head count then found more than 900 people in shelters and more than 100 on the streets. It has not done a follow-up head count since then.

The coalition is working out details of a protest, possibly Thursday. Members also want to watch as police check encampments Friday to make sure the civil rights of any remaining residents aren't violated.

"It's very bad in the absence of any real significant housing help," said Donald Whitehead, director of the National Coalition for the Homeless and a Cincinnati native. "We're treating homelessness as a moral issue when it's an economic one."

In addition to the Convergys deal, he pointed out other recent city decisions he considers ironic in light of the bridge sweeps - the demolition of low-income housing in the West End and the proposal to do the same with English Woods.

Those being forced to leave are people like Witherspoon, who says he's a trained chef who can't find work because of a crime he committed nine years ago. He wouldn't elaborate on the crime.

Witherspoon and his wife live in a black, gray and white tent, which he found, on a concrete ledge wedged between drivers speeding into and out of the Lytle Tunnel. They chose this spot instead of an organized shelter - like the Drop-Inn Center in Over-the-Rhine - he said, because they can stay together. Most shelters separate men and women.

"I don't want to be a burden to my family or anybody else," Witherspoon said, defending his decision to live under Fort Washington Way. "I want to be with my wife. We're dealing with this together."

They live in the tent next to a man who's made a makeshift shelter out of blankets. He's also lined his part of the underpass ledge with stuffed animals.

Some of the under-bridge "homes" consist of just a blanket thrown over a ledge. Others are more elaborate. One setup near U.S. Bank Arena includes a dining-room table and easy chair.

"This is no kind of life," said Robert Hall, who lived under the bridge until a couple of months ago when he turned 62 and started getting a Social Security check. He'd gotten out of prison in 2001 after 13 years and had nowhere else to go.

The 2001 coalition study showed increasing numbers of homeless women and children, compared with previous counts in 1986 and 1993, as well as an increasing percentage of homeless African-Americans. Thirty-two percent of the homeless people found during the count were children, 26 percent women, 68 percent black.

Near Seventh and Walnut streets downtown, Bradley Willis sits cross-legged against a drug store. His sign says he's an old vet who needs help. He's 58, and says he escaped homelessness a few months ago after getting disability for an injury he says he got when he was hit by a forklift.

He has a lot to say about how he thinks City Hall is treating homeless people.

"I think it's all politics," Willis said, smoothing his beard. "The city always wants to down the homeless people, but the city's not doing anything to help the homeless people.

The city had a dispute with the state last week over the issue. The under-bridge "homes" are actually on state property, and the city wanted the Ohio Department of Transportation to authorize the removal.

When the state said it was the city's problem, Luken told the police department to take action. Capt. James Whalen, District 1 commander, didn't want to immediately sweep the spots clean. He wanted to first notify the people, so the small plastic signs went up Tuesday.

Henry and his friends started moving their stuff a couple of weeks ago after word started to spread that the police might come sometime.

To where? Henry just laughed and shook his head. "I'm not stupid enough to say," he said. "But they'll find me eventually. Then I'll probably be back here."

How other cities handle homeless

For 19 years an anti-camping ordinance in Portland, Ore., made it a crime to sleep outdoors. The ordinance was designed to discourage the homeless from camping in city parks and under highway overpasses. It was ruled unconstitutional on Sept. 27, 2000, by a Multnomah County judge. After the ruling, city officials called for police to use trespass laws to continue rousting homeless campers.

Miami was sued in 1997 by the American Civil Liberties Union for its anti-sleeping and camping laws. ACLU attorneys charged that the city's policy was to arrest and harass involuntarily homeless residents to drive them out of the city. The class-action lawsuit yielded $600,000 in compensation for more than 5,000 homeless people.

San Francisco in the early 1990s passed anti-camping, anti-sleeping, anti-sitting-in-doorways and other laws in an effort to address homelessness. Violators were issued citations. More than 17,500 were issued in 1998.

July 8 story: Battle over camps

E-mail jprendergast@enquirer.com