Pubdate: Fri, 30 Oct 2009 Source: Vancouver Sun (CN BC) Copyright: 2009 The Vancouver Sun Contact: http://www.canada.com/vancouversun/letters.html Website: http://www.canada.com/vancouversun/ Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/477 Author: Larry Campbell, Neil Boyd and Lori Culbert LARRY CAMPBELL AND THE NEW EASTSIDE ERA Canada's First Supervised Drug Injection Site Took Time, But Finally Opened Its Doors In 2003 This is a condensed version of Chapter 12 of the new book A Thousand Dreams: Vancouver's Downtown Eastside and the Fight for Its Future. Just before the voting booths closed on the evening of November 16, 2002, Larry Campbell slipped out of the hotel room where his campaign team and friends had gathered to watch the results roll in. He briskly walked to the Four Seasons Hotel, where he knew out-going NPA mayor Philip Owen was having a quiet dinner with his family and close staff. Campbell simply wanted to say, again, that he was sorry for how everything had worked out: Owen was ending a career in politics, and Campbell was worried he was about to start one. Eleventh-hour polls had predicted a victory for Campbell and his COPE team, and the neophyte politician was having last-minute pangs. When Campbell got back to his hotel, he was greeted by his handler, Stephen Leary. "Get dressed. It's over," Leary said to Campbell, who was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. "It can't be all over," Campbell replied. "Larry, you're the mayor. It's all over." The election marked a sea change in Vancouver politics. COPE had not only had its first mayoral candidate elected, but it now dominated city hall, winning eight of ten council seats. The boisterous victory party was at the Vancouver Public Library, and among the crowd of enthusiastic supporters was a trio of supervised injection site supporters from the Portland Hotel Society: Dan Small, Liz Evans, and Mark Townsend. It seemed Vancouver's voters had finally endorsed the harm reduction strategies the society had been preaching for so long. Evans cried that night. "How did that happen? The entire city of Vancouver had supported the injection site. It seemed to be a sign that things could change," she recalls today. Dan Small sought out Campbell during the victory party, gave him a card, and told him the Portland group had already found a location for the controversial project and had renovated the space. Campbell had heard rumours a site was being prepared; now he learned it was ready to go. It would be up to the new mayor to get permission to get it open and it was suddenly, he recalls, "the most important thing on my plate." As soon as Owen "got knifed" by his NPA party, Dan Small remembers, he and his colleagues at the Portland had gone looking for a building to house the injection site, fearing a new NPA mayor would not continue to back the concept. No one had any idea at that time that Campbell would end up running. The group knew it would be difficult to find a landlord willing to rent to them, and without any government endorsement or funding, it seemed unlikely that any of the usual suspects--hospitals, churches, or non-profits--would be keen to take the risk. Finding space Small and Mark Townsend were walking one day in early 2002 along Hastings, just west of Main, when they met a man sweeping the sidewalk in front of a sandwich shop. For 20 years, the man said, he and his wife had run the business. They had raised their two children in the second-floor apartment above the shop, and they had rented out 18 single rooms on the third floor to hard-to-house tenants. Small and Townsend thought the building was perfect and asked the man for a meeting. They showed him videos of injection sites in Frankfurt and Zurich, to convince him that such facilities improve the health and long-term fate of drug users. Then they made the man an offer: the Portland Hotel Society would sign a lease for the building's main floor, with an option to eventually take over the top two floors. The society didn't yet have funding to pay the rent or the legal permission to run such an operation, but Small promised this brave man that he would personally take responsibility should anything go wrong and that the site would be shut down immediately if it wasn't working out. The building owner thought about the proposition and, against all odds, said yes. He told Small he had been a silent witness to the neighbourhood's growing problems, and he decided to trust the Portland group. He and Small toasted their new partnership over glasses of the man's hand-squeezed orange juice. "He told me, 'I've made my living off the people in the community for 20 years. It's time to give back,'" Small recalls today. "That was courageous." The sandwich shop was closed, and the PHS spent $30,000 on renovations, installing six mirror-lined injection booths, some sinks, and low-level lighting. The 1,200-square foot ground-floor space, code-named "the hair salon," had high, dark ceilings, white walls, an observation platform for staff, and a waiting room. The site was ready, but when Larry Campbell announced he would run for mayor, the group decided to back off its renegade plans to open the place on their own. Both Campbell and NPA mayoralty candidate Jennifer Clarke had said publicly that they endorsed a supervised injection site for Vancouver. It would be preferable, the Portland group knew, for the site to be properly funded and staffed with the appropriate number of health care workers. Ideally, the PHS also wanted their injection site to offer security to users, without the police bursting through the door at any minute. Eventually, Small says, they wanted it to be a full-service medical facility, too--one that could offer detox on demand and recovery beds. The Portland bet that Campbell would win the election and, if so, believed he would have both the personality to sell the site and the panache from Da Vinci's Inquest to get it open. "It seemed like the battle was over," Liz Evans recalls of that time. In the midst of election-night excitement, Campbell promised the crowd that the injection site would be open seven weeks later--by January 1, 2003. "It was naivete on my part," Campbell now concedes; nothing moves that quickly in government Taking on Ottawa Nonetheless, shortly after he was sworn in as mayor, Campbell went to Ottawa with a delegation from Vancouver to discuss with Health Canada draft guidelines for opening supervised injection sites in the country. There were representatives at the meeting from five cities, and Vancouver's large contingent included two senior police officers, regional and provincial health officials, VANDU (Vancouver Area Network of Drug Users) president Dean Wilson, and Donald MacPherson, the city's drug policy coordinator. "It was very unusual that a politician would show up at a meeting like that," MacPherson says with a chuckle. "But Larry made it very clear to Health Canada that we were going to move ahead with this." MacPherson remembers the meeting going relatively well until two RCMP officers paid a surprise visit, explaining they did not think the site should be approved until the system for treatment was better funded. "Larry's blood started boiling," MacPherson recalls, and the second the officers were done talking, Campbell pounded the button that indicated he wanted to say something. "The people of Vancouver have spoken. They want this to happen," MacPherson remembers a frustrated Campbell blurting out. Before granting the site temporary approval, Prime Minister Jean Chretien's Liberals decided they wanted rigid protocols around issues such as how used needles would be disposed of and what medical action would be taken in case of an overdose. The feds also wanted the Vancouver site to be a research project, and they agreed to pay $1.5 million over three years for the research. That the federal Liberal government would be relatively supportive of the contentious plan was not that surprising. A national task force on reducing the harm associated with injection drug use had recommended to federal and provincial ministers of health in 2000 that they should consider a medical research project involving a supervised injection site. Upon his return from Ottawa, Campbell confidently told Vancouverites that an injection site would open very soon -- March, he thought. But the new mayor was getting a very public crash course in politics. No longer a chief coroner who could make his own decisions, Campbell was at the mercy of multiple layers of government needing to reach agreement. Finding support Ottawa was not prepared to provide any funding beyond the research dollars, so the site would require B.C.'s Liberal government to provide money for operating and capital costs through the health ministry. Premier Gordon Campbell had endorsed the city's first needle exchange in 1989, while he was mayor of Vancouver, and Larry Campbell says the premier needed no convincing to ante up funding for the injection site, which had a $1.4-million budget in its first year. "I never felt a sense of hesitation on Gordon Campbell's part. He could have easily said it was a federal issue, but he didn't. He saw it as a health care issue," Larry Campbell says today. In early 2003, the health board submitted an application to the federal government for an exemption from Section 56 of Canada's Controlled Drugs and Substances Act, allowing them, for the purposes of scientific research, to implement a pilot supervised injection site for three years. International experience Although Vancouver was applying in 2003 to run the first supervised injection site in North America, it was not the first such facility in the world. Several sites had opened in the Netherlands during the 1970s. The Dutch had wanted to draw heroin users into treatment, but traditional drug services and an insistence on abstinence had demonstrated little success. So, the purpose of the supervised injection site was to provide users with an alternative to street drug use and to initiate contacts that might improve their physical and psychological health. The new facilities also offered access to medical care, counselling, food, laundry, and syringe exchange machines. Frankfurt followed the Dutch example, creating injection and inhalation rooms in the late 1980s. By 2000, there were 16 sites in the Netherlands, 17 in Switzerland, and 13 in Germany. In a 2006 article in the prestigious medical journal Lancet, two researchers would report that supervised injection and inhalation rooms in Switzerland had "changed the image of heroin use as a rebellious act to an illness that needs therapy." Polls of the Swiss population at risk have indicated a decline of more than 80 per cent in Switzerland since 1990, for reasons that appear to be at least partly attributable to the provision of injection rooms. Vancouver's supervised injection site finally opened in September 2003, ten months after Campbell was elected. The former sandwich shop chosen by the Portland folks had been approved by health officials as the location for the government-sanctioned site, but the health board spent another $1.2 million to expand to 12 the number of injection booths and to build a nursing station and a post-injection "chill out" room complete with a food bar. When Insite finally opened its doors, it was an emotional event. VANDU president Chuck Parker, who had been using drugs for 37 years, had been lobbying for a long time for that day. "I never ever thought they would have a place for people to go, to safely inject, under the supervision of a nurse. No longer using a dirty old needle you hid under the shrubs one night. No longer using water dropping from a drain pipe to make my fix," he says today. Six hundred people came through Insite on the first day. The number of injections rose to average between 700 and 1,000 daily, and was even higher on "Welfare Wednesdays," when the monthly social service cheques were dispersed. Each client was asked if he or she would be using up (cocaine) or down (heroin), and then was given a tray containing an alcohol swab, a vial of sterile water, a clean syringe, a spoon, a rubber tourniquet, and a "cooker" to liquefy the drug. A critical part of the initial funding for Insite was attached to a three-year, arms-length, scientifically rigorous evaluation of the facility by the B.C. Centre for Excellence in HIV/AIDS, which produced dozens of papers that were published in esteemed peer-reviewed journals. The research team looked at whether Insite reduced overdoses and studied its role in lowering the transmission of HIV, Hepatitis C, and injection-related infections. Researchers also considered Insite's impact on public order and the extent to which the facility served to increase access to other addiction and health care services. The research findings were extremely positive. After the long philosophical and legal battle to open Insite's doors, some Vancouver skeptics were starting to embrace the benefits of the facility. However, on the national stage, its future would remain uncertain. A Thousand Dreams: Vancouver's Downtown Eastside and the Fight for Its Future is published by Greystone Books, an imprint of D&M Publishers Inc., and available in bookstores Saturday. - - - - A Thousand Dreams: Vancouver's Downtown Eastside and the Fight for Its Future, written by Larry Campbell, Neil Boyd and Lori Culbert, reaches book stores on Saturday. The book, which chronicles the history of this neighbourhood and makes recommendations for its future, is a collaboration by Vancouver's former chief coroner and mayor; oft-quoted Simon Fraser University criminologist Neil Boyd; and Vancouver Sun reporter Lori Culbert. The Sun is publishing condensed versions of three chapters from the book. THURSDAY: LETHAL HEROIN, KILLER COKE, AND EXPO 86 Chapter 3 is set in the 1980s and early '90s, when drug addiction began to escalate in the neighbourhood. TODAY: CANADA'S FIRST SUPERVISED INJECTION SITE Chapter 12 looks at one of the key harm-reduction initiatives to combat drug addiction. SATURDAY: THE ROAD AHEAD Chapter 17 calls for solutions to make the neighbourhood healthier and raises crucial questions for other large North American cities. - --- MAP posted-by: Richard R Smith Jr