End of the Occupation: A First-hand Account

by Matthew Green

It started early Thursday morning. The word came down that Joyce Turner – director of the Department of Enterprise Services (DES), which manages the state capitol campus – had ordered Occupy Olympia to vacate Heritage Park. This time, it was neither a false alarm nor a friendly request.

The official “Notice to Cease and Desist Camping” instructed protesters to “remove tents, shelters, structures and other personal effects” by midnight, or else it would all be seized. The reason for ending the two-month occupation now, wrote Turner, was that “conditions in Heritage Park have deteriorated significantly and pose health and safety risks.” She also wrote that DES “has been working with not-for-profit community services and faith-based networks to identify shelter and other supportive resources for those who are in need.”

The Occupy Olympia website soon called for a general assembly at 4 PM and a rally at 10 PM. At 4 PM, there is no assembly per se, just a few dozen people either hauling away possessions or just chatting about what might happen next. There are about 80 tents in Heritage Park, down from a high of around 120 a few weeks earlier (though some have left before today’s announcement).

The mood is subdued. Art Vaeni, a Unitarian pastor, says “Most folks, at least the ones I’ve talked to, seem fairly accepting of their need to depart.”

Vaeni is part of that “faith-based network” mentioned by Turner that is working to aid the estimated 60-70 homeless people who moved into Occupy Olympia in the two months since it formed on the shore of Capitol Lake. Says another homeless advocate, “The question I’m starting to ask people is, where are you sleeping tonight?” Those who can’t find a place in the already-full local shelters will likely end up back in the woods.

By 10 PM, the encampment is down to 69 tents. Though this is the announced rally time, there are only 30-40 people quietly mingling.

By midnight, the energy level has picked up. Music – angry protest music – is playing over a loudspeaker. Rumors are flying that police will come running in at any moment. The crowd is now bigger, at least 100 people, and is younger, representing the more militant side of the protests; the homeless and the faith-based advocates seem to have gone somewhere else for the night.

Finally, police! Actually, it’s just two State Patrol cars driving through the park a few hundred feet away. Several dozen protesters walk over to gawk at them, while other yell out to ignore them. After a few uneventful minutes, the patrol cars drive off, and the small group walks back over to the main crowd. The only thing that’s changed is the intensity of the rumors about just when and how police will come in and bust up the place.

Meanwhile, a few people continue to haul away tents, sleeping bags, and all the other things that one might collect at a homestead over two months.

By 12:30 AM, it is clear that the midnight deadline was not all that strict. There are no police in sight. Then the crowd starts walking down 5^th Avenue.

Apparently, someone has pointed out the old health department building a few blocks away, across the street from Bayview Thriftway, that has sat empty for more than a decade. And someone has proposed that they should go Occupy it. So they do. (Later, a couple of protesters explain “I’ve squatted this building many times before,” and “It’s a complete waste to leave this building standing here” unused.)

Now the crowd has something to focus on. A few people are inside the building, but most of the 100 or so protesters are hanging around outside. Someone announces, “This is our new community center.”

Someone else explains to the crowd, using the mic-check style developed by the Occupy movement, that the doors to the building were unlocked when the protesters arrived; this is important because it means no one is breaking and entering, merely (at worst) trespassing. This is explicitly intended to reassure any nervous protesters that they won’t get into too much trouble if they come inside.

The group discusses hauling supplies – food, water, tents – from the park over to the building. A few people start the two-block walk back to the park, but ultimately only a few items, and only one tent, make the trip.

They also put out a request to haul some of the wooden pallets, found all over the encampment, over to the building to help construct a barricade at the front door. A few folks also drag a large dumpster and two smaller trash containers from a neighboring building to form part of the barricade. Finally, they urge everyone to call their friends to come down to the building. Some of the folks outside announce, “We are going to protect this space in solidarity with the brave people inside the building!”

Finally, police action! Six Olympia police cars are gathered in the Bayview parking lot!
Excitement ripples through the crowd. Something is going to happen.

…And a few minutes later, the police drive away again, never approaching the protesters. Olympia police continue to drive by every few minutes, apparently keeping tabs on events, but doing nothing to stop them.

Nonetheless, the crowd is convinced that police will take action soon. At one point, a man assures his friends that “They’re going to use the SWAT on us. They love that tactical invasion. They love that stuff!” He seems just as thrilled about the possibility as he believes the police are. Another speaker describes to the crowd how the police will surely be arriving soon to “bash heads.” There’s more than a mild sense that some of these protesters would actually be pleased if that happened.

A couple of them suspect that police have already arrived, in the person of this reporter (hanging out in the building’s parking lot, watching everything, wearing a black leather jacket, with a cell phone and a computer – you know, being suspicious). After questioning, they seem pleased to learn that I’m a reporter. Later, another small group approaches, again wary, but this time they have mistaken me for a reporter from another local newspaper. They are happy to learn I’m from OP&L instead.

The protesters settle in, about 30 of them inside the old health department building, a couple hanging signs from the roof, and another 30 mingling about the parking lot out front, cheering on the folks on the roof. Eventually, the sun rises.

When it does, on Friday morning, it shines upon a growing group of State Patrol troopers gathering in Heritage Park. With them are an animal control officer (there in case of stray dogs left behind), four officers from the Department of Corrections (to deal with anyone who might get arrested who is already on community supervision), a dozen DES maintenance workers, a handful of DES senior managers, and a half-dozen representatives from the local faith community. Also, somewhat jarringly, a few of those troopers are in full riot gear.

The faith community representatives, several of whom had been here on the previous day helping homeless people move out, say they “just came to be witness” to whatever might happen, and to be a resource afterwards if needed. The group has no official authority, but they clearly have the attention and respect of the State Patrol. An assistant patrol chief comes over to talk, telling them, “When we start making a sweep to remove the tents, we don’t want you guys caught in the middle. We don’t want anybody hurt. We hope everybody just leaves.”

The representatives reply, “Our intention is to walk around. In order to be a presence, you have to be present.” They ask the assistant chief if the patrol will soon be removing tents; “Yes,” he replies.

The earlier efforts have find housing for homeless residents of Occupy Olympia had limited success. Mainly, the Salvation Army has opened an emergency shelter with 20 beds, one that usually opens only when the weather dips below freezing. When asked whether all the homeless residents at Occupy Olympia found a place to go, Vaeni, the pastor, says he isn’t sure, but “I would be very surprised” if they did.

Later, the state patrol would allow the faith community contingent to stay behind police lines even as protesters were pushed out of the park. The only other group allowed to stay behind were media representatives, and even they got kicked out before the faith community group.

Steve Valandra, a DES spokesman, confirms that the state patrol will soon clear out the park, acting at DES’ request. He says DES acted now because, “It just got to the point that we decided it was time to bring it to a close.” What began as a protest, he says, turned into a tent city, and camping is just not allowed in Heritage Park.

In addition, Valandra reports that he received many calls from people who said they felt unsafe in the park, specifically mentioning dogs and drugs. However, he acknowledges that none of the complaints mentioned actual unsafe incidents. “They didn’t say that they’d been threatened,” but that they felt unsafe because they saw people urinating or people were “rude” to them.

Valandra emphasizes how DES “talked to the interfaith community” and social service organizations to try to aid the homeless residents of the camp. When asked precisely what DES themselves did to provide aid, he says they put up signs explaining local services available (information homeless advocates mostly already had), but otherwise begs off, saying DES is not a social service agency. Did the homeless people in the camp find another place to stay before now? He doesn’t know.

Is Joyce Turner, DES director, here? “No, maybe later.”

Is Governor Gregoire here? “Nope.”

Speaking of Gregoire, on Thursday afternoon she had held a press conference to explain and defend her administrations actions. “We have allowed people to express their First Amendment rights unfettered. We have been as patient as we could,” she says. “… So we’ve done everything we can and now it’s time for them to go home. I need to clean that up down at the park. I want families and kids to be able to access it. I don’t want there to be any concern by the local establishments that do business down in that area.”

She continued, “I can’t sit where I live and look out and worry about whether those people [at Occupy Olympia] are going to freeze to death down there, to be perfectly blunt with you. We’ve already had one [protester] that was admitted to a hospital because they had a health problem. We can’t do that anymore. So we have been patient. We’ve been tolerant. … So we have allowed First Amendment expression. I respect them and their voices have been heard. It’s now time to leave public property and share that public property safely with everybody else.”

Gregoire makes no mention of how many people have frozen to death on the streets or had health problems due to lack of health insurance during her previous seven years as Governor, nor about how many people have being living in the nearby woods where she could not “look out” and see them easily all these years.

By 8 AM, there are more state patrol troopers in riot gear. In fact, across Water Street (which is now closed to traffic by police), gathering in a parking lot, there are over 50 troopers in black armor and face shields.

Some of them carry odd-looking rifles, either ones that look like military-grade paint ball guns or other ones that look like they shoot canisters. The best guess is that they contain pepper spray or tear gas, but the troopers aren’t answering questions. When approached, one trooper refuses to talk at all. Later, someone who was at their morning briefing explains that all the troopers were instructed to not respond at all to anything protesters (or in this case, the media) might say.

A State Patrol officer uses his car PA-system to announce that Heritage Park is now closed “for health and safety reasons,” and that everyone must vacate. Still, a few people are carrying away possessions, slowly, almost forlornly. The camp is down to 55 tents.

For about an hour, nothing much happens. Perhaps the patrol will simply allow people to slowly remove all their stuff.

No, actually, they won’t. At 9 AM, the State Patrol officer repeats his announcement over the PA. The riot-clad troopers (color-coded into teams with little reflective panels on their uniforms) line up along the edge of the park adjoining Water Street. A flat-bed truck arrives hauling sections of chain-link fence, which DES workers pull off and start erecting around the border of the park behind the troopers.

Soon, the troopers start moving, in a sweeping motion across the park from east to west. They walk up slowly about 30 or 40 feet, then stop on a commander’s orders. Behind them, a team of troopers marches as a unit over to a tent now behind the police perimeter; they crouch around the entrance, and carefully, ever so carefully, pull open the tent flap to find …nothing. After making sure no one remains inside, they reorganize into two lines, march to another tent, and repeat.

Once all the tents behind the police are checked, the line of troopers sweeps another 30 or 40 feet ahead. The whole process repeats. The media and the faith community witnesses slowly follow. Less than a dozen remaining protesters equally slowly back away from the front of the police line, holding signs, occasionally singing softly or chanting or talking to troopers. The DES workers extend the chain link fence along 5th Avenue, creating a secured zone behind police. A few curious passersby watch from the sidewalk.

The sweep is slow and methodical and mostly quiet. It takes about an hour to move the length of what used to be the encampment. All the tents are checked. No protesters (or dogs) remain. The fence encircles the park (or at least, the occupied part of it), now with signs announcing that the park is closed. The troopers relax a bit and wander back to their staging area near Water Street. There have been no physical confrontations and no arrests. The DES workers turn their attention to pulling down and hauling off the remaining tents and everything else left behind, to a storage site where their owners are supposed to be able to reclaim them. The Occupy Olympia, as a physical presence, has been removed.

Meanwhile, some protesters are still over at the old health department building. Ironically, their absence from Heritage Park makes it that much easier for the State Patrol to clear it.

And the “occupation” of the abandoned builing doesn’t last much longer. About the same time as troopers were entering the park, Olympia police were clearing and taping off the parking lot in front of the building. (This building is not on state property, so it is now under local jurisdiction.) The “barricade” built earlier doesn’t appear capable of resisting even the mildest effort by police to enter, but they hang back anyway. Several protesters are spotted climbing out onto the roof of the building and hopping off the back, out of police view.

Finally, the police offer to let all the remaining protester go, without arrest, if they leave immediately. The last dozen or so occupiers march out, to applause from scattered bystanders.

Even before this day, many conversations have speculated about what happens next for the Occupy movement. For Occupy Olympia, the time for speculation is over; with the camp gone, they either move on or disappear.

The final 24 hours up to the removal of the encampment revealed that Occupy Olympia consists of three different populations, which can be vastly overgeneralized as the homeless, the advocates, and the militants (this author’s terms, not theirs).

The homeless population, who came to Occupy Olympia for the promise of more safety and more community than they found elsewhere, will have to look elsewhere again. Some will find room in a shelter (though there are no additional resources coming from DES or any other state agency), others will go back to the woods, and all will likely get on with their life outside of political movements.

The militants are best represented by the protesters who sought to stage a last stand in the old health department building. They tend to be younger and more energetic, and were the vanguard of the Occupy movement and the majority of the actual camp residents. They are also more radicalized, perhaps more angry – though they still seem to want to build as much as tear down. Their idea for a community center in the abandoned building, for example, was ill-conceived and unrealistic, but also hopeful.

The advocates, highlighted by the faith community witnesses, are more likely to be middle-aged, middle-class, and mainstream. Most of them didn’t even actually reside at Occupy Olympia. However, they were more than merely sympathetic; they were present and active, lending their time and energy wherever they could, from bringing in supplies to helping people out. This group also possesses more political connections and influence (in the best sense) to the larger community than the militants can claim.

The future of the Occupy movement will depend not on tents, but on how all parts of the movement work together to turn their ideas of social change into practical reality.