Already caught in the shockwaves of a global pandemic, Cupertino now has another unprecedented problem: For the first time in recent memory, the upscale city has a visible homelessness issue.
When the small cluster of tents suddenly appeared on the side of Wolfe Road it brought the Bay Area homelessness crisis to the front door of tony Cupertino — a town of tech money, $2 million homes and first-rate schools. Since then, the city and the Santa Clara County Sheriff’s Office have been hit with a flood of complaints from residents.
“They’re certainly not used to seeing something like this in Cupertino,” said Capt. Ricardo Urena, who patrols the area for the sheriff’s office.
The coronavirus pandemic complicates the situation. Following federal health guidelines, Cupertino officials won’t break up the encampment while the virus is still a threat. Once the pandemic abates, they plan to dismantle the camp. But it’s unclear where the residents will go. There are no homeless shelters in Cupertino, nor has the city procured emergency COVID-19 housing — like trailers or hotel rooms — the way other larger jurisdictions have.
Adding another layer of complexity, a 2018 Ninth Circuit ruling prohibits cities from penalizing homeless people for sleeping outside in public spaces if there’s no other shelter available.
For now, the Wolfe Road encampment residents are living crowded together with no access to bathrooms, running water or garbage facilities — conditions that make it hard to protect themselves from the potentially deadly virus.
The camp, which appeared around February, is small. Fewer than a dozen tents are clustered next to the Vallco construction site on Wolfe Road, by the Interstate 280 onramp. Up the road, across the street from Apple’s new “spaceship” headquarters, sits another make-shift structure made of tarps.
But by setting up in the middle of the city, where people can’t help but see them as they drive by, the homeless campers have helped open residents’ and city officials’ eyes to an issue experts say has been there for some time.
“It’s not just a San Jose or Sunnyvale problem. It’s an everywhere problem,” said Josh Selo, executive director of West Valley Community Services. His organization serves homeless and low-income residents in Cupertino and the surrounding communities.
Cupertino’s homeless population grew by 25% — from 127 people to 159 people — between 2017 and 2019, according to the last homeless census. Meanwhile, city officials have permitted just 19 units of low-income housing since 2015. Cupertino would need to approve another 544 low and very low-income units by 2023 to meet its state-mandated goals. Housing advocates have criticized the city for not doing enough to help with the region’s housing crisis.
The City Council recently approved two grants for West Valley Community Services — $65,780 to help the homeless and $50,000 for rental assistance — and launched a separate $200,000 relief fund for residents who the pandemic has placed at risk of eviction. Officials also are writing a homelessness policy to provide guidance in dealing with encampments.
The city looked into setting up portable bathrooms and handwashing stations at the Wolfe Road camp, but determined there’s no room.
In an emailed statement, a city representative wrote: “The situation is obviously becoming more acute. These two areas are growing in size and the occupants are living in unhealthy conditions. The goal is to provide them with a sustainable place to live.”
Though their housed neighbors didn’t know they existed, many of the people living in tents on Wolfe Road have been homeless in Cupertino for years, living out-of-sight along creek beds and highway on and offramps. Some were born and raised in the area, and once had housing here.
“This is all I know. This was my home,” said 58-year-old Kent Brown, who lives in the larger of the two camps. He grew up just across the border in Sunnyvale and attended Cupertino schools, from Inverness Elementary through Cupertino High School.
Homeless residents used to camp regularly in hidden areas along a 280 exit ramp, and Caltrans would kick them out and clean the area every few months, Urena said. People also camped out of view along the banks of the Calabazas Creek, until the county’s water district pushed them out in March.
After getting swept out of those areas, residents pitched their tents in plain sight along Wolfe Road.
As soon as they did, neighbors took notice.
“The community’s definitely concerned,” said 53-year-old realtor Tessa Parish, who lives in the area. She also serves on the city’s housing commission, but wasn’t speaking for the commission
When Parish first saw the camps, her knee-jerk reaction was fear. She worried the cluster of tents would grow into the sprawling encampments she’d seen in San Jose. But the campers on Wolfe Road don’t seem to be hurting anyone, Parish said. And many people in the surrounding community — judging by what’s posted on neighborhood social networking site Nextdoor — just want to help.
The campers say neighbors come by every day bringing food and other donations. But other people lean on their horns as they drive by, which the homeless residents take as a signal they’re not welcome. At the camp across from Apple, someone spray-painted “leave” and an expletive on the make-shift shelter.
Urena and his sheriff’s office colleagues check on the camps periodically, handing out face masks and information about resources. Until the pandemic is over, that’s all they’ll do. But eventually, the campers will have to move. They’re blocking the sidewalk, and could create a health hazard, Urena said.
“We want to give people the help that they need, and make our residents happy by cleaning up the area,” he said. “But we understand as well that at this point, the best thing to do is allow them to stay there until the shelter-in-place order is lifted.”
