THE HOUSE THAT CRACK BUILT

For Almost Two Decades, Bruce Mcconville Was At War With His
Neighbours, A Constant Battle That Turned Him Into A Neighbourhood
Activist

Bruce McConville knows first hand what crack can do to a
neighbourhood.

He has seen the parade of addicts and its trail of
chaos.

Users have threatened to infect him "countless times" with HIV through
bites and scratches.

"When addicts are desperate for a fix, they are not human beings any
more," he says. "They are the lowest type of animal. There is no
conscience and no morality."

McConville, 47, has owned a garage in Vanier for 20 years. For much of
that time, he has waged war against the crack house next door.

The run-down house with a dirt basement has had several owners. The
second and third floors have been subdivided into six or seven cramped
bedrooms. It's illegal, of course, but then so is most of what goes on
inside a typical crack house.

Police come and go. He has watched tenants get evicted in the morning
and return the same night. "The cost to taxpayers of having police
respond to calls about the same house is significant," he says.

"Some landlords will let the police be their rental agents -- let them
clean up the mess," McConville says.

As its name suggests, a crack house is a house -- or apartment --
where crack is dealt and often processed. Most are found in low-income
areas where there is a high density of public housing.

"People live with needles in elevators and fights in their apartment
lobbies," says Nancy Worsfold, executive director of Crime Prevention
Ottawa. "They suffer sleepless nights."

While there has been significant success in the Vanier area, Worsfold
says crack houses blight many other neighbourhoods. Close one, another
opens.

"Drug trafficking is violent," she says. "There is reason to be
afraid. Crack houses cause huge problems and deteriorate people's
quality of life."

That has certainly been McConville's experience. The garage owner, who
has made two unsuccessful bids for city council, has become a
community activist, helping neighbourhoods take on slum landlords.

"People buy property for investment," he explains. "Some of the best
buys are houses that have been previously used as crack houses, or
have been condemned."

Owners can't afford to renovate, he says, nor can they afford to be
picky. "Anybody waving cash under the nose gets in, no reference, no
nothing," he says. "Once you have a tenant, it is extraordinarily
difficult to get them out, even with several police visits. It's a
nightmare to oust bad tenants."

Crack houses have little difficulty attracting tenants, he adds,
"regardless of whether the toilets flush or the bathtub drains or how
much mould might be dripping from the ceiling."

After one landlord went bankrupt, the tenants -- all behind in rent --
were evicted from the house next to McConville. "Two hours later, the
bad guys were back," he says. "They were ejected two or three times
and kept coming back and breaking the locks."

After some basic repairs, another owner re-rented the rooms and the
cycle resumed.

Last year, a new tenant invited McConville inside. "He was very
friendly. He said, 'Why don't you come up and see the place.' More
bedrooms had been created. He had his Bunsen burner going and offered
me some crack. So off I went and set about trying to get him ousted."

The property started to deteriorate 15 years ago, McConville recalls.
"There were three steady tenants," he says. "All were well-behaved,
respectful people." Then a drug dealer moved in. "He was also a pimp.
He had a stable of 16-year-old girls he was keeping permanently
drugged. He had two derelict cars at the back yard. For $20, you could
have sex with any of the girls in either of the cars. I saw it happen.
It became so prevalent it began to affect the impression of my
business and my ability to attract good staff. We were constantly
phoning the police. Condoms were littering the place."

Crack customers rarely make quiet purchases and leave. "There might be
five or six using on the sidewalk," he says. "If you approach them,
you need to be prepared for a scuffle. I've also been offered blow
jobs for $20."

McConville blames the banks that mortgage the properties then take no
responsibility. He has tried unsuccessfully to engage the bank that
mortgaged the property next to his garage. "That house had been
re-mortgaged three times to a value that far exceeded its worth," he
says. "So the bank got screwed, too, which wouldn't happen if it was
doing due diligence."

Neighbours may bear the brunt of the chaos, but many are reluctant to
get involved.

"Disgruntled people will vent and criticize the police and the city.
They feel they have done enough just paying their taxes," McConville
says. "But, if you want to solve the problem, you have to get
involved. It's vital to work in co-operation with the police.

"One crack house will quickly attract another and then another," he
says. "When specific addresses start getting publicized, it
disenfranchises the neighbourhood."

The self-acclaimed Vanier booster has paid to build numerous
residential fences in an effort -- "surprisingly effective" -- to
restrict the movement of dealers and addicts and squeeze them out of
the neighbourhood.

McConville is not without some sympathy for addicts. "They feed the
chain, but I don't see them as the problem. I would like to see the
process stopped earlier so people don't get that desperate."

He says Ottawa lacks the social agencies and development dollars to do
the big work -- "one-on-one tough love." Feeding addicts at Shepherds
or the Salvation Army is not enough, he says. "Someone who is on the
outs in society almost needs a 24-hour mentor."

While drug dealers catch some rental property owners unaware,
McConville suspects that for many, the houses are fronts for drug money.

He says "functional people" deserve the blame: banks, realtors and
landlords.

For now, his long-running battle with the house next door seems to
have reached a happy ending. When the house was left empty and in
disrepair, McConville removed the stairs in an effort to prevent it
being re-occupied.

"I immediately hired a professional house inspector," he says. "After
about 20 minutes, he came out and said, 'I can't go back in there
without a gas mask.' He found six inches of mould on the inside of the
roof, caused by moisture from producing the drugs. The roof was caving
in. It was stuff I was already aware of."

McConville sent the report to the bank that owned the
property.

Several months later, the property was resold, renovated and rented to
what McConville describes as three "good" tenants.

While the house was on the market, McConville made it his job to
intercept realtors and prospective buyers. "I told them about the
place and made it very clear they would be under 24-hour
surveillance," he says. "I think it put off some of the sketchier ones."

Awareness and vigilance are key, he says. "It's about staying in the
ring and fighting, no matter how frustrated you get."

Wednesday: The crack van is an innovative program that delivers.