Honolulu Lite
IN the old days, Hotel Street was the dark heart of Honolulu, a seamy, steamy world of strip joints, peep shows and streetwalkers. Police seek a
Last of two parts | Part One
few good snoopsToday, half of Hotel Street looks like a movie backlot, empty and rundown. Club Hubba Hubba, the lusty old lady of lurid nightlife, is boarded up. It has the feel of a war zone, which it is. Cops have been in a running battle for years with criminals and creeps of every sort. And thanks to new technology and innovative legal tactics, Hotel Street has been reclaimed by the community. Although half of it is dead, the other half, in Chinatown, is alive with people.
The new police substation in Chinatown is symbolic of how the fight to wrest control of Hotel Street is being won. The building itself was seized by the city after decades of illicit use. Such seizures have become among the strongest weapons in the law-enforcement arsenal. Out of the new building, the police are using advanced video technology to deter crime and move bad guys out of the neighborhood. Surveillance cameras scattered throughout the Chinatown area give police the ability to literally see everything happening on the street.
In a way, it's very Orwellian. Big Brother is watching. But Big Brother isn't a cop. He's more likely to be a Buddhist priest or retiree or even a newspaper humor columnist. Signs disclose the cameras' presence. But most people I talked to didn't realize they were on candid camera.
Sgt. Les Hite, head of the Community Policing Team, said the system depends on volunteers. But it isn't like asking for volunteers for a beach cleanup. The trouble with asking people to volunteer to snoop on others is that you tend to attract the kind of people who like to snoop on others. The police are looking for people who are more community-minded than those who merely get a thrill out of spying on folks.
The screening process isn't as extreme as it is for actual police officers, but it's close. Those chosen are subject to police department standards of conduct.
Volunteers work in two-hour shifts, sitting in front of a television and computer monitor, basically watching people. It's not brain surgery, but some technical training is needed. My initial camera manipulation made the camera work of "Blair Witch Project" seem positively smooth. But after a while, I could zoom in on license plates or, both accidentally and unfortunately, guys picking ukus out of their hair. (People do an awful lot of grooming when they think no one's watching.)
Volunteers are taught the no-nos of surveillance. Like no zooming inside businesses or cars. And no zooming in on private parts. Everything is recorded, Hite said, so it's easy to tell if a volunteer is abusing the system.
Basically, you look for anything you might see if you were standing on the street: fights, robberies, drug dealing, drinking, etc. From media coverage, you'd think that stuff goes on constantly. When you are actually looking for action, what you see mostly is people shopping, people walking around and, unfortunately, people grooming.
The presence of the cameras is actually what deters crime, Hite said. Just knowing they could be watched sends bad guys somewhere else.
If you want to get in touch with your inner spy and help the community, call 529-3386.
Charles Memminger, winner of
National Society of Newspaper Columnists
awards in 1994 and 1992, writes "Honolulu Lite"
Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Write to him at the Honolulu Star-Bulletin,
P.O. Box 3080, Honolulu, 96802
or send E-mail to charley@nomayo.com or
71224.113@compuserve.com.
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