Rec and Effects

needlepoint: Remnants of heroin use near "the rec." Photo By: Michael T. Regan

Across town from the Sweeney trial, Fishtown residents beg for help.

by Doron Taussig

Betty Adams is cleaning up after the drug addicts again. On a cold afternoon, she scours the grounds of the Fishtown Recreation Center, where she and the students in her after-school program frequently find the remnants of the previous night's drug trade. A used syringe lies among the usual empty baggies in the hockey rink, and Adams expresses surprise. But the real surprise here is that the recreation center is so close to the 26th District Police Station: Cruisers can't leave the station parking lot at night without shining their headlights into the rink.

With the city's attention fixed across town on the sensational Jason Sweeney murder trial, approximately 200 Fishtown residents gathered in the basement of the Holy Name of Jesus Catholic Church last Thursday night to discuss one of the causes of that grisly crime: Drug use among neighborhood youth. In 2003, a group of local youths killed Sweeney, 16, for money that they then spent on cheap heroin. While neighbors hasten to call that high-profile atrocity an aberration, they also remember two recent juvenile overdoses, and many in this hamlet seem to have an addict in the family.

The crowd applauds appreciatively as speakers exhort the neighborhood to "look at itself," and call on people to stop turning away when their neighbors, or their neighbors' kids, sell drugs. "We're not talking about Scarface here," says the meeting's organizer, A.J. Thomson. But the biggest applause of the night comes when Thomson pleads for somebody to do something about "the rec."

The rec, which consists of a playground, hockey rink, basketball court and building, has become a symbol in this tight-knit, blue-collar community of the futility of the anti-drug effort and the utter lack of respect that teens have for the police. Thomson's younger brother, Colin, calls the rec "ground zero" for drug dealing in Fishtown. "When I was a teenager ... I had a few beers there myself," Colin says. "Now ... kids are selling oxycontins, maybe heroin. ... You can ask the biggest shut-in in the neighborhood where the kids go and get drugs and they would say the rec."

Discussions with locals confirm the Thomsons' tale. Betty Shallcross, who runs the rec's day-care center, tells horror stories of children finding drug baggies emblazoned with logos that would appeal to a child, like a picture of a Hershey's Kiss. "It's an in-your-face sort of thing," says Garden Logan of the Fishtown Neighbors Association. "The playground is just covered with bags and broken beer bottles."

Young people in the neighborhood describe a similar situation.

"You can't chill in here at night anymore," says one of two teens in black heavy-metal T-shirts standing on the basketball court. Like many others, they recommend that an inquisitive visitor see for himself: "Just go look in the hockey rink."

Police Capt. Lou Campione, who runs the 26th district, says he's aware of these complaints. After the rec came up at a community meeting three weeks ago, "We intensified our efforts," he says.

"There is some activity after 10 o'clock [when the rec closes], and we're working with the recreation center to fix that," he says. "Our activity is up, our arrests are up, we've had a decrease in crime. [The rec] does get more than normal attention, and we have not seen a problem."

Still, many locals are dissatisfied with the police. Nancy Sodos, who lives next door to the rec, says she regularly watches drug transactions from her window. "I do call the cops, but by the time they get here, it's over," she says. And when asked if the cops are doing anything wrong, 21-year-old Jimmy Duffy, who makes sandwiches down the street at Mandi's Deli, says, "You mean like not doing their jobs at all?"

The Thomsons go easier on the police. "They do make arrests," says Colin. "They're not bad guys. It's just a perfect symbol. These are white kids who don't shoot each other, so why is it a high priority?"

A.J., who thinks Fishtown's biggest problem is its acceptance of drug culture, is launching a neighborhood watch campaign called "Whatever it Takes" to drive the scourge out. One goal will be to "protect the rec."

But until that happens, Betty Adams will continue her clean-up efforts. After carefully scooping the syringe onto a sheet of computer paper, she notices a drug baggy frozen in a sheet of ice. It's filled with little white circles that appear to be pills, but turn out to be little balls of cotton, presumably used as filters for the syringe.

"Oh, my God," she says, before kicking the baggy free. "I wonder if we should tell the police?"