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Direct Action author Luke Hauser faces eviction from his longtime San Francisco home.
Click here to see the eviction notice
Click here to see photos of our house and neighborhood
Despite never missing a rent payment for ten years, never having a conflict with the owners or other housemates, and generally being an all-round great guy - the forces of progress have declared Hauser an illegal.
In the name of splitting Church Street House (a collective house since 1981) into condos, Hauser's room has been condemned (it's a great room, believe me!) to make way for the subdivision of the "property."
Negotiations are ongoing, but needless to say, the strategy includes a direct action plan as well...
In case I suddenly have to engage in a bit of nonviolent direct action, I figured I better write a press release now. You have to plan ahead on these things.
Here's my first draft. Feedback is welcome, as are boxes of critical supplies such as Luna bars.
Contact the intrepid author with feedback, fan mail, eviction notices, etc
Internationally-acclaimed activist author Luke Hauser (aka George Franklin), author of Direct Action: An Historical Novel, continues to valiantly and heroically resist eviction from his longtime San Francisco home.
On ____________, 2009, (fill in date), the day the SF sheriff announced for the eviction, Mr. Franklin aka Hauser nonviolently barricaded himself into his room with nothing but 20 gallons of water, five cases of Luna bars, and an 80Gb iPod.
The noted author remains incommunicado, having never gotten around to getting a cell phone.
On the first afternoon, the sheriff's crack eviction squad and several companies of the National Guard surrounded the residence.
However, on orders from President Obama, they did not immediately storm the barricaded room.
Secretary of State Hillary Clinton was dispatched to negotiate a compromise settlement, but Mr. Hauser aka Franklin rejected the offer, saying he did not want a mediator whose hands are "pickled in the brine of capitalist property law."
On the evening of the first day, the Reclaiming Chorus arrived at the protest site. Singing their way through the Reclaiming Chantbook (available for free download at www.reclaimingquarterly.org), the Chorus established a round-the-clock musical vigil.
Sheriff's psychologists arrived soon after to counsel the deputies on the effects of listening to Reclaiming chants for their entire workshift.
On Day Three, a crisis developed when Mr. H (aka F) realized he had forgotten to bring his iPod charger.
With power running dangerously low and Mr. F (aka H) forced to severely ration his allocation of music, a team of renegade urban Earth First!ers slipped past the military cordon and gained entrance to the back yard outside the barricaded room.
The line of sheriff's deputies snapped to attention, holding the EF!ers at bay. But as the Reclaiming Chorus launched into the final stanza of "We Are a Pentacle Within a Hexagram," the door flew open and the Earth First!ers hurled a small package over the sheriff's cordon and through the opening.
Mr. Hauser (aka Franklin) grabbed the bundle and slammed the door. Before the stunned authorities could react, the barricade was secured once more. A cheer went up from the Reclaiming Chorus, settling into a long sweet toning that led to a stirring cone of power, all to the befuddlement of the hapless deputies.
Behind the barricades, morale soared. The intrepid Earth First! team had delivered not only the crucial iPod charger, but a box of recycled kleenex made from 93% post-consumer EF! Journals (visit www.earthfirstjournal.org).
Power was restored to the iPod, and soon Mr. Franklin (aka Hauser) could be heard happily blowing his nose to the the stirring strains of Beethoven's Ode to Joy.
To Be Continued!!!
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