Elizabeth

“Tell your friends,” said Elizabeth, owner of the Checkered Flag Tavern on SE 82^nd Avenue, to me and my friend. “Tell your friends about it and get more people in here.”

We all stood inside the joint on a Tuesday before noon and Elizabeth had just told the extraordinary story of how she and her husband Jason had bought and renovated the place during the pandemic, turning a former biker bar full of old man anger and grievances into a welcoming place for all people. The Checkered Flag also hosts an annual drag show that raises money for LGBTQ non profits.

We said we would certainly share the word about this great dive bar and its structural and philosophical transformation. Elizabeth, in her late 30s, also shared her personal story: she was in recovery, had grown up in the area, graduated from a nearby high school, and called life she observed on 82^nd Avenue right out front her bar as “spicy.”

The bar story was fantastic, but even more incredible was something else Elizabeth is trying to doing with the property that deserves promoting and high praise and is nothing like anything I’ve heard in connection to Oregon’s homeless crisis.

Or perhaps it is very much like what is going on everywhere and we simply don’t hear about it or take notice. Quiet positive work is often like that.

When Elizabeth purchased the Checkered Flag, the deal came with 10 small studio apartments onsite. The complex must have originally been a motor court from the 40s and 50s and was later converted to housing in the 70s or 80s.

It is dilapidated. The units are tiny. The front yard is concrete. The complex is a football throw away from one of the most inhospitable and dangerous roadways in Oregon.

Nevertheless, the studios are housing for destitute people on the verge of being homeless and that’s what matters.

Elizabeth inherited a challenging roster of tenants and had no previous experience as a landlord, let alone the demographic that occupied the studios. Thus, she became a bar owner and bartender who unwittingly took up social service work (primarily with the elderly) on the side because they were living on the property and needed her help and no one else was doing it. So what began with owning a dive bar, launched her into ad hoc work helping the homeless in the area obtain housing or keeping those housed in her complex from losing their homes and dying on the streets.

And she loved doing it.

I got all this from Elizabeth, while drinking my IPA, and was not taking notes, so I hope it’s mostly right.

Her work began with a Mr. George, an elderly man who was an alcoholic, semi homeless, and a regular at the tavern. Elizabeth invited him into one of the studios and he eventually died, but didn’t die on the streets.

Most of the units were occupied but they suffered from hundreds of thousands of dollars in deferred maintenance and Elizabeth had a bar to run and make a living.

Not too long ago, water pipes burst in several of the unoccupied units and Elizabeth lost four of the apartments.

She wanted to remodel but didn’t have the money—yet. There was no doubt she would raise it somehow.

THE MONEY! THE MONEY! THE MONEY!

Report after report from the Portland area documents how various governing agencies haven’t spent hundreds of millions of dollars in funds earmarked to address the homeless crisis in the state’s most populated county with the homeless people. These are funds raised by voters who taxed themselves because they want action. The Governor even requested some of the special monies allocated during the last legislative session returned because the county hadn’t spent it all by deadline!

Elizabeth’s studios are a perfect candidate for some of this unspent money. One application. One page. A visit from a county and/or county official. Approval in two weeks or less. Treat it like the emergency it is. Hire a contractor of Elizabeth’s choosing. Get building!

Part of the money could also subsidize rent for the tenants. The studios could serve as transitional housing until tenants found other residences. There are dozens of models that could work. Elizabeth would choose one that best serves her clients because she knows who they are and what’s best for them. A homeless industrial contractor from Los Angeles certainly does not and anyone can talk to Elizabeth anytime they have an issue or a possible placement. In Portland, the outside contractors providing much of the housing are not reachable and operate in darkness.

A construction crew working 10 hour days for a week could repair it all. That effort would house almost 15-20 people who otherwise would soon live on the streets.

Or, if it made more construction/financial sense, raze the studios and bring on the small (200-foot) manufactured home/cabins I’ve seen for sell along highways everywhere in Oregon. I’ve even stayed in one on Loon Lake and it was wonderful! No expensive and boutique tiny home featured on the television shows that cost ten times as much. You could even set up a mini RV park onsite. Just grandfather it in from land use laws. There’s already a mobile court/RV park next door to the Checkered Flag!

Listening to Elizabeth narrate her story and evince her passion was incredibly inspiring to me, one of the more inspiring moments I’ve experienced since I started about writing the homeless crisis in Oregon.

I offered Elizabeth my services as a grant writer and/or red tape cutter on the spot. I could also serve as grant manager and PR director. Hell, I could even work as a volunteer laborer on the construction crew!

Sometimes I believe writing is not enough in support of this monumental cause. Sometimes I feel the same about assisting Mark with pep talks, corduroys, books, pipe tobacco, an occasional can of malt liquor, and rides to various appointments.

I want to get more physical on the ground but I don’t want to belong to a non profit and take endless canned training sessions and swim around in mazes of molasses and mayonnaise. I want to build something!

Look at Elizabeth, a bartender, recovering addict with no formal education or training in providing homeless services. She is going at it alone.

It’s called freelancing. She’s just doing it. Freelancing! Making it up as she goes along, feeling her way through ideas, enlisting ad hoc help here and there. She is highly reluctant to put herself forward in this endeavor but knows that it has to happen in some fashion.

She could use some help. Her state representative and senator should learn her story. Pay a visit. Talk to her.

Our conversation was nearly over when I told Elizabeth I had a gift for her. She smiled. I ran out to the car and retrieved two copies of The Old Crow Book Club. I handed them over and gave her a brief preview of the contents and my passion for the cause.

I said it was almost cosmic we had met in her tavern. She agreed.