THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1997, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, January 20, 1997 TAG: 9701200275
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY KATRICE FRANKLIN, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: SUFFOLK LENGTH: 171 lines
Three years ago, the Rev. Henry Baker left his 500-member church in a suburban neighborhood in Emporia for his former church in a poverty-stricken area in his hometown.
When the members of First Baptist Church of Orlando first approached him about returning, Baker had no intention of accepting. He was happy where he was - at least until he read a small article in the local paper about a 15-year-old boy fatally shot two blocks away from the small church that sits nearly in the center of the eight-block neighborhood.
Shocked, Baker picked up the telephone and called the church. He'd been through Orlando countless times. He'd seen the conditions and the problems. But he never expected this. When he'd left the community a decade ago, the neighborhood on the outskirts of downtown was thriving. Residents took pride in their small, well-kept homes. Crime wasn't a major problem.
Baker asked the church clerk what had happened. The clerk told him that the shooting had made it very difficult for her and others because they were embarrassed that it had happened in their neighborhood.
``She said she had to stay,'' Baker recalled. `If nobody stays, things won't get better,'' she told him.
``I was convinced by that,'' Baker continued. ``I thought to myself, where would Jesus go? I felt like this is where he would be - where people have blasted hopes and shattered dreams.''
A few weeks later, Baker returned to a neighborhood where kids roamed the streets with nowhere to go and nothing to do. A neighborhood where half the houses in the eight-block area were boarded up, had yards full of junk, or were barely standing. A neighborhood that had earned a reputation as the drug territory of Suffolk. Folks referred to it as ``Little Korea.''
When he preached his first sermon, he looked out to see only 40 faces looking back at him. More than half the pews were empty. He knew he had his work cut out for him.
Baker realized that he had to do more than just add bodies to the pews of the church. A community had to be rebuilt.
These days, Baker, the residents and those who have strong ties to the community are looking forward to a city housing plan.
The initiative, the first of its kind in Suffolk, will rehabilitate Orlando. The city and housing authority will work together with the community to make it a ``model'' neighborhood.
The plan will be more than just adding homes and sidewalks. Unlike other rehabilitation projects, residents will get their say at what they want for their community.
``I want to build a community,'' said Clarissa E. McAdoo, executive director of the Suffolk Redevelopment and Housing Authority. ``Not just homes. To do that, you bring people within that community together to talk about what they want.
``A possibility is a park and stores. But I want the community to tell me that,'' McAdoo said.
The residents of Orlando will have that chance at a community meeting on Jan. 30.
Residents in the area see the plan as their saving grace - light at the end of a dark tunnel.
Some of them have already started to recapture their neighborhood by renovating their homes and reporting crime. Leaving, for them, was never an option.
Baker plans to start renovation on his church this spring.
``We want to show the residents that we're a viable part of the community,'' he said. ``We care. This is a partnership.''
Like many of Orlando's 1,000 some residents, Charles E. Deloatch was born in Orlando, which is 95 percent minority, and he feels the city should've tried to help the community a long time ago.
His red-and-white home stands out on one-block-long Mahlon Street. It's freshly painted and bright yellow flowers decorate the porch. Deloatch's manicured lawn bears a sign: ``Warning. Rollins protects this property.''
He and others blame absentee landlords and a rise in rental property for Orlando's decline.
``A long time ago, when everybody lived here, the neighborhood was fine,'' said the 52-year-old Deloatch, a former shipworker, shoving his calloused hands in his jacket pockets. ``But then a lot of people left and all the property became rental. That's when it went down.''
Census information supports Deloatch's theory. The area has a median income of about $13,300. A large portion of the population is elderly. And at least 45 percent of the homes in the neighborhood are rental properties.
Tales trace Orlando's roots back to the early 1900s, when factory owners built small homes for their workers. Many say the neighborhood's street names - Wekiva, Kissimee, Ockawaha and Osceola - must have come from a Florida factory owner of Native American descent. Back then, the neighborhood thrived. And there were neighborhood stores and lots of block parties.
Alcohol was Orlando's only problem.
Today, when you ride down Factory Street, there's the feeling that Orlando is a part of Suffolk but is not really of the 430-square-mile city. The neighborhood has only one way in and one out. That's Factory Street which runs down the middle. All the other streets are dead ends.
That makes the neighborhood seem boxed in - pushed aside in a tiny but distinct corner.
Most of the factories on Factory Street have closed, and Orlando is now sandwiched between the few peanut factories such as Birdsong that are still running and a fence that stretches the length of the neighborhood.
The fence separates Orlando from Walnut Hills, a neighborhood full of single-family starter homes.
Some say the fence was put there so the new community wouldn't have to associate with Orlando.
Vanessa Savage, a housing official in the city's inspection department, said the office receives lots of complaints about Orlando from Walnut Hill residents, ranging from storing abandoned cars to having broken windows and unkempt lawns.
Savage said Orlando's problems are no different than most inner-city neighborhoods that have declined.
``There are a lot of elderly, retired people and a lot of poverty,'' Savage said. ``Those are the problems.''
Suffolk Police Sgt. Stephen Smith, who began patrolling Orlando some 20 years ago, said the area has always been a ``tough'' neighborhood.
Twenty years ago, breaking up fights and solving thefts were the major problems. Even that, he said, was dangerous.
``It's always been difficult for police because there's no way to maneuver,'' Smith said. ``There was always some type of police damage. You had to fight your way in and fight your way out. We always sent a couple of people.
``If you broke up a fight in the back yard, when you came out your tires would be cut,'' he said.
Once drugs surfaced, Smith said Orlando was the ideal location because it's easy to spot anyone coming. All cars come from one direction, so folks have a lot of time to run if they see cops, Smith said.
But things have improved, Smith said, since residents have gained more interest in saving their community.
Gertrude A. Golden, who rents property in the area, grew up in Orlando and plans to move back there, began calling the police a few years ago to get them to frequent the area more often.
She inherited property in the neighborhood from her father, who before dying in 1993 was a minister in Orlando for almost 40 years. He purchased land there in the hopes of one day renovating the area.
Golden said when she first inherited the property, all 10 of her lots which are on Okiwaha Avenue, were only appraised at $60,000.
Since then, she and her husband have plunked personal earnings into refurbishing the homes. Two are completely done and now have a fresh coat of paint, new floors, bathrooms, roofs and improved plumbing. She will renovate another home for herself.
``The crime in the neighborhood had gotten so bad,'' Golden said. ``We didn't know what to do. But we decided that in order to save a community, you have to make a sacrifice and you got to go into it first yourself.
``If it's going to change, it has to be people already there taking an interest,'' Golden continued. ``This was home for me.''
To save her home, Golden asked the tenants living in her rental property who weren't interested in the community to leave. She's now very selective about who she rents to.
While she only gets $250 to $300 a month for the homes, Golden said she just wants to one day be proud of Orlando and see her father's legacy live on.
Baker said he believes that once the residents come together, salvaging the community will be much more than a dream.
``This is believable,'' Baker said. ``Once people see that, that's all it'll take. They have to have something that they can see and reach out to.
``Orlando will thrive again.'' ILLUSTRATION: Map
VP
Photo
JOHN H. SHEALLY II/The Virginian-Pilot
The Rev. Henry Baker returned to First Baptist Church of Orlando
after seeing crime plague the once-thriving community. Three years
later, Suffolk is giving financial aid to help rebuild Orlando.
Graphic
ABOUT THE PLAN
The city and the Suffolk Redevelopment and Housing Authority will
hold a community meeting at 7 p.m. Thursday, Jan. 30, at First
Baptist Church of Orlando, 505 Eola Ave.
The housing authority estimates the rehabilitation plan will take
at least five years. The agency owns land in the area and hopes to
begin construction of new homes this summer. Officials expect the
plan to cost about $4 million.
KEYWORDS: URBAN RENEWAL SUFFOLK