Bums' Paradise

Well, that was a bust. The police seem to have flushed out the entire bulb earlier than 7pm, and they set up roadblocks along all roads towards the albany bulb. Approaching from the race track, I noticed lots of police cars driving back and forth rapidly, but I didn't see any cyclists, walkers, or people who seemed to be driving towards the park. There was a blockade at the top of the hill at the race track with three police, and they wouldn't even let people use the public right of way road that goes through. There were more police at the main entrance. The entire albany force is probably about 8 police at a time because they have 12,000 population. I couldn't figure out what happened to the Liberation film people, but the officer was saying "are you here for the party advertised in the Chronicle?" This all occurred well before the normal closing time of 10 and they must have interfered with dog walkers etc.

may-be they should camp in front of city hall and demand...? help, and services..

Here is the Berkeley Daily Planet's article about this. The revival of the Daily Planet is pretty good. I believe some people from the historical or architecture society started it up again, after the original owners had a daily paper that was filled with AP wire stories, and didn't make enough ad money. The new group fills it up with rants by local people such as Carol Denney, reprints from Kurt Vonnegut and others, and it comes out twice a week, and covers a number of local events that just aren't covered in other papers:

Film Chronicles Albany Homeless Village
By JOHN GELUARDI (05-27-03)
Two documentary filmmakers held an impromptu showing of their award-winning film, “Bums’ Paradise” Sunday night in a Berkeley pub courtyard after the East Bay Regional Park Police shut down an unofficial showing at the Albany Landfill the previous night.

According to police, officers turned away close to 300 people who had come to see the film, which is about a colony of 50 homeless men and women who formed a community on the landfill from about 1990 to 2000. The documentary also chronicles the homeless colony’s dismantling during an eviction process set in motion by the city of Albany.

The homeless village existed for a decade at the west end of Buchanan Street — near the entrance of the landfill — an area also known as the Albany Bulb.

Filmmakers Tomas McCabe and Andrei Rosen had planned to screen the documentary at the landfill, where it was filmed. However, word of the event quickly spread and several hours before the 9 p.m. show police closed the access road to the landfill and patrolled the desolate, unincorporated spit of land by helicopter.

“It had been a dream of ours to show the film on the landfill since we began shooting,” McCabe said. “We had been out there setting up for most of the day and when we found out it was shut down, I called the owners of the Lanesplitters Pub — as the helicopter was buzzing over our heads — and they agreed to let us use their outdoor courtyard for the Sunday showing.”

Lt. John King of the East Bay Regional Park Police said the landfill showing was shut down for safety reasons.

“They didn’t just advertise for the showing of the film, they also advertised a bonfire, DJs and suggested people bring their own alcoholic beverages,” King said. “It ended up being a real safety issue.”

King, who has seen part of the documentary, thought it was “fantastic” and said he would like to work with the filmmakers to have a sanctioned showing on the landfill, possibly this summer.

Since the documentary’s release in October, it has won awards at film festivals and attracted a burgeoning cult following. In addition, Rosen, who is now based in his home town of Moscow, recently sold one-time broadcast rights to Kultura, Russia’s version of the Public Broadcasting System.

In the documentary, McCabe and Rosen examine the society that developed among the landfill’s inhabitants, most of whom struggled with varying degrees of alcoholism, drug addiction and madness.

Robert “Rabbit” Barringer, the landfill’s village sage, narrates the documentary. The landfill community, which Barringer describes as “social egalitarianism in disrepute,” was complete with behavioral protocol, artwork and even a castle that served as the community’s structural identity.

The camera follows Barringer as he walks through the landfill’s tall brush, pointing to bay vistas and introducing residents. He explains how the former dump is perfect for the inhabitants who reject greater society as thoroughly as it rejects them.

“Untold tons of urban debris and bay dredgings were deposited there, layer by layer, year after year, spreading for nearly a mile into the San Francisco Bay. The landfill stands as a monument to obsolescence,” Barringer says at the beginning of the film. “What could be a more appropriate place for America’s unused people?”

Mad Mark designed and built the community’s architectural symbol, the two-story, concrete Fairy Castle, complete with parapet and spiral staircase. Mad Mark worked on his project in the dark between ramblings about gases and government medications that were altering the community’s mind. “Well, I think this is a giant spaceship pretending to be the Berkeley Marina,” he says, eyes wide under the brim of a baseball cap.

According to McCabe, actor Clint Eastwood, who is a California State Park and Recreation Commissioner, has expressed an interest in preserving the castle as a historical landmark.

Other artistic expressions on the landfill include sculptures and paintings on rocks, driftwood and debris. However, it is the landfill’s poet laureate, James “Jimbow the Hobo” Baily, who best captures the spirit of the community. He writes about vagabonding across the country and his need to live separately from society because of his appearance, anti-social behavior and disposition: “I’m hair lipped, cleft chinned, cross-eyed and I’m a son of a biscuit eater.”

Baily describes why the landfill gave him piece of mind.

“To be able to live halfway civilized and not be treated with Proliten, Haldol and Prozac and all this shit that makes people think they’re getting well when they’re not,” he says.

After the residents are evicted, it is a scene of Baily — silent, shirtless and smoking under the glare of a sterile light in a run-down hotel room — that brings the community’s loss into focus.

Berkeley resident David Baruch attended the Sunday courtyard showing of Bums’ Paradise and said he was impressed by both the film and the former landfill community. “The film was very well done and it was interesting to see how they made things work, how they helped each other,” he said. “There were a lot of crazies out there, but when you compare it to the rest of the world?”

Barringer attended the Sunday showing and answered questions from the audience afterward. He said that many of the residents are still in the area and that others have moved on. He said it was possible a government-sponsored camp could be as functional as the one on the landfill, but he had doubts if he would like living in one.

“There’s always going to be people who are fiercely independent,” he said. “If you want to help those people, leave them alone and let us disappear. We are already rich.”


The filmmakers are staging another outdoor showing of Bum’s Paradise Saturday at 9 p.m. in an Oakland parking lot located between 15th and 17th streets. Viewers who are on foot or bicycle should bring a portable radio in order to receive sound. For more information about the documentary, visit http://www.bumsparadise.com