I’ve used this picture of Sean Stevenson with Salma Hayek dozens of times to get people’s attention because it represents just ONE incredible aspect of Sean’s story, but in terms of understanding why Sean originally decided to relocate to Montana, the person I would REALLY like to talk to is this woman:
I know there was an idea of starting a food joint of some kind in Montana because part of Sean’s recovery entailed taking business classes at a program he attended for several months before moving into an apartment with a VERY sought after permanent housing voucher.
Sean was smart and knew that he had a good housing situation. I spoke with the woman who helped get Sean off the streets when I was in Denver and she said he avoided the normal pitfalls of letting people crash at his new place, thus putting his housing at risk. So why did he leave? And why did he come to Montana?
Maybe Sean’s girlfriend (the woman pictured above) somehow convinced Sean to relocate to Big Sky country. A fresh start is much easier when you’re with someone who knows the landscape a bit, especially if you’re a black man going into a northwestern state like Montana.
I believe the woman’s name is Ann, but I’m not totally sure. Sean’s family tried reaching out to her around the time Sean was euthanized by the Missoula County Sheriff’s Office inside a private hospital room, but they weren’t able to connect with her, is my understanding.
Sean didn’t come to Montana to live a homeless lifestyle, like some people do. Sean came to Montana with a woman and a business idea, and Missoula was NOT his first stop, Flathead County was.
Montana might be a BIG state, geographically speaking, but it’s not that big when it comes to the people who live here, so if you know this woman, I would really like to talk to her. My email is willskink at yahoo dot com. Please reach out if you know anything. I’ll leave it there, for now.
If you’d like to support my work, Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF) is one way to do that, and making a donation at my about page is another.
Yes, you are looking at picture of poop. Is it human feces or animal feces? The answer to that question doesn’t really matter because WHERE this poop was pictured is the problem, not what kind of asshole it came out of.
The re-opening of the Johnson Street homeless shelter has locals in the area VERY upset, so an open house was recently provided to try and alleviate some of those neighborhood concerns. Well, it didn’t work, and one reason it didn’t work is because no one at the Poverello Center bothered to pick up literal shit before giving the community a tour.
I got these images from someone who took that tour, and it’s not just the picture that are disturbing. Here’s some of the written content that I found quite troubling (emphasis mine):
This open house presumably would be put on so that the community can learn how the shelter would be run and reassure them that they have the capabilities needed to run it. Here is what I saw when I toured the building”
Less than two thirds of the required storage lockers none of them with doors or ability to be locked.
The email points out the lack of appropriate storage appears to be a potential code violation, but this is what happened when the person who was taking this tour brought it up (emphasis mine):
When I read the zoning for an emergency shelter ( 20.40.045 – Emergency Homeless Shelter) There are a number of common sense requirements. Item C.Design requires locking storage lockers so that folks who are experiencing homelessness can sleep as soundly as possible with some expectation that their personal effects will still be present when they awaken in the morning. (1.Storage Lockers—Provide one locker with a minimum of nine cubic feet of storage space with lock per bed.)
When I brought up the fact that there were no temperature controlled indoor locking cabinets that guests could use I was met with the argument of “how do you know that that is what they need to feel secure“? I was speechless that someone would excuse a code deficiency with the argument trivializes the value of a person’s meager belongings.
This point about NOT having a place to safely secure belongings is very important, and I say that after having spoken to someone who had some CRITICAL belongings stolen from him while staying at this facility, including a cell phone, which he had just purchased, and which was stolen FROM HIS POCKET while he slept at Johnson Street.
So, Poverello Staff, including Executive Director, Jill Bonney, THAT IS HOW I KNOW the client I talked to NEEDED locked storage to feel secure, and since his belongings were NOT secure, they were stolen. This is not fucking rocket science.
The final alarming image has got to be some kind of safety violation. Here it is:
Um, what? Is it really necessary to PADLOCK this door? And what about the historical reference to the Triangle Shirtwaist Factor fire? I wasn’t familiar with this reference, so I looked it up. Here’s some context from Wikipedia (emphasis mine):
The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in the Greenwich Village neighborhood of Manhattan, New York City, on Saturday, March 25, 1911, was the deadliest industrial disaster in the history of the city, and one of the deadliest in U.S. history.[1] The fire caused the deaths of 146 garment workers – 123 women and girls and 23 men[2] – who died from the fire, smoke inhalation, falling, or jumping to their deaths. Most of the victims were recent Italian or Jewish immigrant women and girls aged 14 to 23;[3][4] of the victims whose ages are known, the oldest victim was 43-year-old Providenza Panno, and the youngest were 14-year-olds Kate Leone and Rosaria “Sara” Maltese.[5]
The factory was located on the 8th, 9th, and 10th floors of the Asch Building, which had been built in 1901. Later renamed the “Brown Building”, it still stands at 23–29 Washington Place near Washington Square Park, on the New York University (NYU) campus.[6] The building has been designated a National Historic Landmark and a New York City landmark.[7]
Because the doors to the stairwells and exits were locked[1][8] – a common practice at the time to prevent workers from taking unauthorized breaks and to reduce theft[9] – many of the workers could not escape from the burning building and jumped from the high windows. The fire led to legislation requiring improved factory safety standards and helped spur the growth of the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union (ILGWU), which fought for better working conditions for sweatshop workers.
It’s kind of shocking that a tour of a facility that’s getting so much public scrutiny would be conducted in a manner that creates MORE concern, not less, but that appears to be wha happened. That is why I’m leaning toward TICKING TIME BOMB versus this being an actual shelter with the appropriate physical space, policies, and staffing that the clients who will be using it desperately need.
Do I need to remind readers that Sean Stevenson DIED after being ATTACKED inside the main facility run by the Poverello Center over three years ago? And do I need to remind readers that a significant factor in that death was the policy of “harm reduction” that allowed clients to be drunk and high in parts of the building with no staff around?
I called Jill Bonney weeks ago to ask a very simple question about the death of Sean Stevenson: how many people were in the men’s dorm on January 3rd, 2020, BEFORE check-in? I never got a response, but that’s not going to stop me from getting answers.
Tomorrow I have a very important post about the circumstances of Sean Stevenson’s arrival in Montana, including an image of the woman Sean came to Montana with. I think this could be an important part of understanding what happened to Sean, and why.
Missoula’s homeless infrastructure is neither adequate, or safe, for what it’s trying to accomplish, but that isn’t stopping our elected leaders and influencers from trying to placate the public while strategically ignoring their VERY valid concerns.
If the Poverello Center, and a certain Mayor who was a board member with my former employer, don’t wake the fuck up to what’s happening, and soon, more people are going to get hurt and killed. I want to be wrong about that, but my seven years of experience working with this population tells me I’m not.
Since no one in local media can explain what’s happening with the Homeless Industrial Complex like I can, please consider making a financial donation TODAY! You can end a month-long financial drought by supporting Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF), or making a donation at my about page.
My state of mind was already a bit crispy around the edges after driving from Redding, to San Francisco, to Eureka, so it was in true Gozno style that I introduced myself to Mr. Rockefeller.
You might think it sad for me to be talking to a portrait of a wealthy man with very little scratch attached to my own name, but that’s because you didn’t have a vigorous conversation with your Map-App while trying not to crash into giant Redwood trees for the hour previous to entering the “historic” Eureka Inn.
Yes, Hollywood is well represented at the Eureka Inn, but did you know the story of a young director named George Lucas who used some curious extras once upon a time from a drug rehab movement that became a cult and originated in Santa Monica?
Hat-tip to the PsyOp Cinema guys for reminding me about the crazy Synanon roots of what eventually morphed into AA. From the link (emphasis mine):
In the early 1960s, the Synanon house became quite the fashionable hang-out for Hollywood’s more cerebral celebrities. Guest speakers in 1963 alone included Twilight Zone creator Rod Serling, legendary sci-fi author Ray Bradbury, and the original host of the Tonight Show, Steve Allen. Other visitors included Leonard Nimoy, Jane Fonda, Charlton Heston, and Milton Berle, among dozens of other curious stars. Synanon had some pretty cool parties, thanks to the fact that so many jazz musicians were around trying to kick their habit.
But it wasn’t just the Hollywood elite and L.A. musicians lining up to get a peek at the exciting things happening in Santa Monica. Others who couldn’t resist poking their heads in for a look at the program included counterculture drug aficionado Tim Leary, futurist Buckminster Fuller, and labor activist Cesar Chavez.
Politicians also came knocking. Senator Thomas Dodd from Connecticut claimed in 1962 that, “There is indeed a miracle on the beach at Santa Monica.” Jerry Brown Jr., the current governor of California, even visited Synanon while with his father in the mid-60s. Synanon was widely held up as a tremendously successful program by countless politicians well into the early 1970s. No wonder, given the kinds of numbers Synanon was reporting.
Why did I bold the part about jazz? Because I was enjoying some fantastic jazz in Eureka, California, when the police showed up. To their credit, they seemed as confused about why they were there as everyone else was.
Is this the kind of scene at 9:45pm you really want to be calling the cops about?
I had a long day of driving and documenting my thoughts on the synchronicities that won’t leave me along. Why would someone name a Credit Union the TRAVIS Credit Union, I wondered?
Here’s the story of why the Air Force Base was RENAMED Travis:
The base was renamed Travis Air Force Base in 1951 for Brigadier General Robert F. Travis, who was killed when a B-29 Superfortress crashed shortly after takeoff on 5 August 1950. The ensuing fire caused the 10,000 pounds of high explosives in the plane’s cargo — a Mark 4 nuclear weapon — to detonate, killing General Travis and 18 others. (The bomb’s plutonium pit was being transported in a different plane.)[6]
The Military Air Transport Service (MATS) resumed command of Travis AFB on 1 July 1958, after SAC’s new dispersal policy led to the transfer of the 14th Air Division to Beale AFB, California and the 1501st Air Transport Wing (Heavy) became the host unit. On 1 January 1966, MATS was redesignated as the Military Airlift Command (MAC) and on 6 January 1966, the 60th Military Airlift Wing (60 MAW) replaced the 1501st ATW as the host unit.
As Travis was an important SAC base, it received anti-aircraft defenses in the 1950s. The 436th Anti-Aircraft Artillery Battalion was active by 1955. The 436th AAAB was redesignated as an antiaircraft artillery missile battalion on 5 January 1957 and subsequently occupied four Nike Ajax sites, which went to 1st Missile Battalion, 61st Artillery on 1 September 1958. Controlling the SAMs was the 29th Artillery Group (Air Defense).[7]
I’d like to write more, but I’m exhausted, and I have to figure out where I’m going tomorrow. That is, after checking out the local culture.
If you appreciate the daily posts I’m still putting up while traveling on this epic road trip, Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF) hasn’t seen a donation for quite some time, nor has the donation button at my about page been used. You have the power to change that! And it sure would help the stares of Rockefeller feel less intimidating!
I recorded this short clip on Sunday, September 3rd, after talking to a woman who considered herself one of the last, if not THE last burner, to make it out during a window of opportunity she sensed would only be open for a short time. She was right.
Everyone on the playa is now being tested in ways they never expected, despite this event including SELF-RELIANCE as part of its operating ethos. How did we get here? And what is ACTUALLY going on in Black Rock City as rumors of EBOLA are spreading and supplies dwindle?
The woman I spoke with saw three helicopters operating on Saturday, and two of them were first responders. I mention this because celebrities LOVE this event, but their social status right now doesn’t mean a damn thing, which is why we saw Chris Rock catching a ride with non-celebrities.
I also made note of a Verizon mobile unit being transported to the area, so I’m assuming this is being set up for first responder communication.
For a little historical perspective on Burning Man, here’s something from Wikipedia:
Burning Man is a week-long large-scale desert campout[1] focused on community, art, self-expression, and self-reliance held annually in the western United States.[2][3] The name of the event comes from its culminating ceremony: the symbolic burning of a large wooden effigy, referred to as the Man, that occurs on the penultimate night of Burning Man, which is the Saturday evening before Labor Day.[4] The event has been located since 1991 at Black Rock City in northwestern Nevada, a temporary city erected in the Black Rock Desert about 100 miles (160 km) north-northeast of Reno. According to Burning Man co-founder Larry Harvey in 2004, the event is guided by ten principles. These stated principles are radical inclusion, gifting, decommodification, radical self-reliance, radical self-expression, communal effort, civic responsibility, leaving no trace, participation, and immediacy.[5]
At Burning Man, there are no headliners or scheduled performers. Instead, the participants design and build all the art, activities, and events.[6] Artwork at Burning Man includes experimental and interactive sculptures, buildings, performances and art cars, among other media. These contributions are inspired by a theme that is chosen annually by the Burning Man Project.[7] The event has been characterized as “countercultural revelry” and has been described by its organizers as an “excuse to party in the desert”.
In June 1986, while the Presidio was still an active Army post, a new tradition started at the northern end of Baker Beach – Burning Man. Initially, the founders of Burning Man were drawn to Baker Beach because of the bevvy of driftwood found there. The northern portion is notoriously known as a “clothing optional” spot for sun bathing and one of the more isolated beaches in San Francisco. Thus it was the perfect place for a group of 20 friends to gather for a bonfire where Burning Man founder Larry Harvey set aflame the eight foot tall wooden structure he called “the Man.”
Though Larry was the first to burn a structure of a man, he wasn’t necessarily the first to start this effigy burning tradition at Baker Beach. Several years before burning a man was even a twinkle in Larry’s eye, Mary Grauberger, a friend of Larry’s girlfriend, held annual bonfires at the beach where she’d assemble driftwood statues to burn in honor of Summer Solstice.
The strange death connected to 1999’s Burning Man resulted from a minor fall. Did Jim Keith, a well-known conspiracy writer, think he had just initiated a fatal medical event? No, he thought he sprained his knee, but after checking in to the Washoe County Medical Center, he died after a blood clot supposedly dislodged from his leg and killed him. From the link:
On September 6, 1999, Keith injured his leg after stepping off a three-foot stage at the Burning Man festival. Thinking it was only a severe sprain, he went home. The next morning, he checked into the Washoe Medical center for treatment of a broken knee. Surgery was delayed due to issues with kidney function. At 8:10 PM on Tuesday, September 7, 1999, a blood clot released from his leg and entered his lung, an issue which proved fatal.[2]
In an article published three weeks after Keith’s death, friends and co-authors expressed suspicion that he was killed because he mentioned the name of a physician who declared Princess Diana was pregnant at the time of her death.
I ran across this factoid while reading an article about deaths connected to the Mothman sightings in Point Pleasant. Strange? Yes, but what ISN’T strange these days? Or maybe it’s just the fact that I was in the Washoe County Sheriff’s Office yesterday where a homeless man let me in to the building and I spoke to him and no one else. All of this is too strange for me to fully understand, and I have nearly 100 pages of trying my damnedest to figure it all out!
To show how hard I’m trying, here’s a selfie of me standing in front of some symbolic influencers in Susanville. Why am I smiling? I’m smiling because I’m thinking of a certain MISSOULA Susan who likes to influence things, and is connected to the last name ORR that popped up when I looked into the substitute judge who placed a year-long legal cloud over me because one of that Susan’s former employees didn’t like the way I broke up with her.
Yesterday’s Labor Day post features a poem I wrote, but another poem I wrote on this epic road trip about the circumstances of my departure is something that, if published, could get me arrested, so I think I’ll hold off on that one until I can find a Montana lawyer gutsy enough to defend me.
Until then, if you’d like to help me during my epic road trip, Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF) is a great way to do that, or you can use the donation button at my about page.
Happy Labor Day from the Cartoon Clown World you ALL inhabit, whether you want to or not. If you think this doesn’t apply to you, I’m here to tell you how WRONG you are.
After driving for three days straight without a bed or shower, I stopped in Reno to plan out my next week, but those plans had to be quickly changed after I found out Black Rock City was transformed into a hellacious mud pit where around 70,000 people are now stranded with limited and dwindling supplies. There’s even been one death reported:
Authorities in Nevada are investigating a death at the site of the Burning Man festival, where thousands of attendees are stranded due to flooding from storms.
The Pershing County Sheriff’s Office said the death happened during the event but offered few details, including the identity of the deceased person, KNSD-TV reported.
Close-to-an-inch of precipitation created mud-bath-like conditions in Nevada’s Black Rock Desert, where the annual event takes place.
I have friends at Burning Man, so I’m going to make an effort to help them. I’m writing this on Sunday, so by the time this posts, I’m hoping to be near Shasta, where Jim Morrison’s girlfriend was from. Right now I’m sitting in the Biggest Little City in the world.
If you want to know more about our Clown World, the guy who asserts clowns are actually representations of Nephilim has a new interview with the Tin Foil Hat crew, so check it out!
To wrap up this Labor Day post, here’s a poem I wrote while leaving Texas, so please enjoy it and, if you’re able, please consider directing some discretionary funds my way by supporting Travis’ Impact Fund (TIF), or making using the donation button at my about page.
I don’t like your longhorns
or your single star
Rainey Street won’t touch my feet
I see what they are
don’t ignore graffiti
or rantings of the loon
Chupacabra, motherfucker
under this blue moon
no, they are not subtle
no, they lost the spark
that is why their tentacles
are cursed to search the dark
search it for your candle flame
search it for your song
light of sun is not their fun
their fight with time is long
let me give suggestion
as I drive and drive
heading to the borderlands
where people walk on knives
hearts and still be sacred
and kids can still be kids
once we get our shit together
fixing what they did
realign our language
retake every spot
and baby, we can do this
without taking a shot
