Why gentrify Charles Village? - It's Not That Simple

Living off campus has its obvious advantages. No meal plan. No group bathrooms. No Residential Life poking around your possessions over winter break. In short, independent living.

Of course, there are disadvantages as well. But more than landlords, cooking our own meals and taking out the trash, the hazards of living in "real-life" Baltimore are not always as inconsequential as they seemed before the enthusiasm of looking for you "own place" wore off.

As the local crime reports suggest, or as the running tally of homicides every Friday in the Baltimore Sun might suggest, living in the "Greatest City in America" is anything but. One is forced to take notice when routine reports of robberies, violence and rape appear on the headlines of the school newspaper.

But more than journalism that sells, there is no denying the extraordinary number of armed robberies that have plagued the Hopkins community so far this year. Six to be exact. Earlier this year, one block away from where I live, a suspect broke into a house with all four residents in it at the time. According to one tenant, Stephanie Teller, the suspect "made his way up to the first floor and stole our VCR and raided our kitchen" before a housemate scared him off when she went downstairs.

In fact, there have been a string of robberies all along that 3200 block of St. Paul Street; three other houses have also been hit. Additionally, sororities have had to tell their sisters not to walk alone at night, fearing a rapist that has reportedly already attacked eight girls in the area.

It's not just criminals, however, that make one wary. Not too long ago, I was approached by a police officer outside of my house and told, to my surprise, that I had a homeless man living in my backyard. Needless to say, I was not easily satisfied with his qualification that "he's [the homeless man] harmless; this happens all the time." Apparently, though, I should have noticed the fact that he had been "urinating and defecating in [my] backyard. It smells like a zoo."

It's not just crime and trespassing, though, that plague this area. Local schizophrenics provide another incentive to walk in pairs. At times, they seem to have more of a street presence than the police. Routine threats of "shut up, moron" and the indistinguishable rants that characterize the mentally unstable migrants are discomforting. Yet, their acceptance as part of the local neighborhood "flair" is maybe even more disturbing.

All this points, then, to a severe mislabeling of the city by its Public Relations campaign. It therefore seems appropriate to examine what more rational approaches can be employed to solve this problem.

To find potential solutions, one might begin by examining similar situations faced by other campuses; while we may boast the highest homicide rate in the nation, we are certainly not the only school that must deal with security issues. A strong parallel may be taken from the University of Pennsylvania. They, too, have an untamed neighborhood, West Philadelphia, adjacent to campus that is a routine threat to student security. What was their response? Gentrification.

Hopkins can take a lesson from our neighbor to the north. This university needs to begin rehabilitating Charles Village. Despite its many residents' affirmations of its charming feel, the truth remains that we live in nothing more than a violent, run-down neighborhood. The events of these last few months demonstrate this.

To its credit, Hopkins seems to realize the need for a change. Unfortunately, their resources seem to be misappropriated. Rather than focusing on properties like the WaWa house, why doesn't Hopkins expand its sphere of influence?

Perhaps the school is conscious of the label that it may obtain from such a process of expansion. Or maybe they are afraid of the Charles Village Lobby that entreats us to keep the same 3200 block of St. Paul for "residents not revenue." If not for the lack of alternatives, what resident would want to live on a street that, just three blocks from campus, has been victim to four robberies in just the last two months? The irony is that despite most individuals' efforts to move away from the cozy blanket of the freshman dorms or Wolman and McCoy, they remain much safer there than just down the street.

And it is most certainly the school's responsibility to protect its students, even if they aren't "on campus." Hopkins has taken responsibility and appears to have increased security in the area, even if this is more of a response to the sniper of two weeks ago than anything related to routine crime. Even the shuttle service, a painfully (or sometimes dangerously) slow enterprise that is meant to make students feel more comfortable moving around the area, does not operate 24 hours a day.

What, then, is Hopkins to do? Fortunately, the formula is not too complex. Buy. Bulldoze. Rebuild. With over a billion dollar endowment and the single largest private employer in the state of Maryland, the Administration certainly has the wherewithal to accomplish the necessary tasks.

To be sure, the plan to build a larger Barnes and Noble bookstore off campus is a step in the right direction (and a faithful copy of the UPenn Model). But it will certainly take more than that. By rehabilitating even a single block, the school can hope to inject new, and safer, life into the area. Replace the run-down row houses with a15-story high-rise. Then build a movie theater. A bowling alley. And a legitimate restaurant block. There is no reason that students should be left to fend for themselves, just because they walk across the street from the Beach.

One of Hopkins' most alluring features is its beautiful and safe campus. There is no reason that the Rape Steps should mark the end of students' comfort zone.