Roam if you want to

Community Care Tucson is a mutual aid collective that's been operating since 2021, creating a shared space once a week in Armory Park downtown where home-cooked meals, hot and cold drinks, heat relief, hygiene supplies, harm reduction, clothing, pet food and supplies, first aid and wound care, and bike repair are all available to anyone who shows up. Outside of the park, we connect people to a wide range of support and resources, set up community drinking water stations across town, hold educational events, and inform the public through traditional and social media about community needs and government abuses.

The weekly events that ours and other groups hold are often described as distributions, although it's a term I've never loved because when everything is running smoothly it's far more like a pop-up town square or a picnic. A big picnic—on any given night we get 200+ people coming through, along with 15-20 organizers operating the different stations. We sit in the park and share a meal, try to cool off, shoot the shit. It has its challenges like all gatherings, but generally the little haven that we carve into this hard city for a couple of hours at a time is a beautiful communal space.

Many of the people who come through for support are unhoused, but many do have housing, jobs, incomes, but are still straining to meet basic needs, or could just use a good meal. The more you learn about the full range of need out there, in fact, the more you realize that the binary of housed/unhoused isn't all that useful in the first place. Many people in the park do have very serious problems—physical, mental, emotional, legal—that keep them sleeping outside, but situations actually vary a lot, and often change for individuals from year to year, even week to week. At the same time, the line between housed and unhoused seems to be getting thinner every year as cost of living surges past income, and the group of Americans who consider themselves financially secure gets ever smaller.

Maintaining the illusion of that line is a necessity for people in power, because they don't have solutions to poverty other than promoting economic growth at the top and protecting property and business owners. So in Tucson and cities across the country, they are implementing a flurry of new laws designed to dehumanize, harass and, ultimately, incarcerate a community's most vulnerable people. Very often when government officials talk about the "homelessness problem," what they are doing is separating out a section of a community to be treated as a nuisance to the public rather than a part of the public. It blots out the humanity of thousands so that leaders can ease the city's conscience, creating a categorical difference between those of us who are struggling and those of us who are doing just fine. (If you think I'm exaggerating, just spend a few minutes in the comments of a local facebook group.) We all know, however, that none of us is all that different from folks whose lives have veered into a perilous place for whatever reason. And whether it is the accelerating concentration of wealth, government oppression, or climate catastrophe, none of us is that far away from joining them.

In mutual aid, we acknowledge this reality and seek to generate safety and comfort, not through top-down institutions, but by building relationships and caring for each other. Like most similar groups, we operate on the principle of "solidarity, not charity," meaning we do not put up paternalistic barriers between people and the help they need, and instead establish a non-hierarchical, peer-to-peer exchange that meets people where they are. Our work is to dissolve that line between us as best we can. Because let's face it, things are often shitty and getting shittier, and we can't rely on those in power to save us, but we can be there for each other, which is a profound sort of power of its own. So each week, we turn Armory Park into a glimmer of what that looks like in practice.

Having been involved with CCT for about four years now, I can absolutely say that it's the people that make our nights in the park special. Between the visitors, the organizers, and the people who show up randomly to see what it's all about, it's a remarkable cross-section of Tucsonans. I've made many friends through CCT that I would have never met otherwise. Which gets me to this issue's interview, which is giving the spotlight to one of those people I have met and befriended over the years (you can also read past interviews with fellow CCT organizers Liz and Ronnie). Mike is straight up one of the coolest people I know, and an icon at Armory Park events. He's one of those guys who just knows everyone, and honestly, everything, especially when it comes to classic rock and film. That's how we first got to know each other, talking about movies and music, and eventually he became the unofficial musical director at the park, curating elaborate playlists that I'd then pipe in over our portable speaker. When the City tried to kick us out of the park in 2025, Mike was center stage standing up for our right to be there.

A former political hellraiser, athlete, and aspiring rock star, Mike had a successful career and raised a family, but post-retirement has struggled to get by on his social security payments and finds himself at a crossroads. Part of the reason I wanted to talk with him is that he's preparing to leave Tucson on an epic trip of self-discovery, exploring the country with an Amtrak pass and a mission to find his next act in life. We sat down across the street from the park to discuss his life, his experience in Tucson, and what's next.

So, first of all, how long have you been coming to CCT at Armory Park?

At least three years. Maybe three and a half.

And you make it most weeks, I think.

Yeah, there's been a few lapses. Tucson's a big city and when you get to one end of the desert, you get stuck there for a while.

It can be hard to get across town, especially when it's hot.

Until the next paycheck hits.

Do you go to a lot of other distributions or mutual aid events?

I go to some, yeah, I hit the one here in the back of the park on Sundays. It's the eegee people.

Gator-Aid.

Yeah. And Saturday I was on the south side, with the COW truck. And I go to Guadalupe (Casa Maria) at times. I go to the Korean church on Stone and Roger (The Loving Church). They open at 8:30. They have big cups of coffee I like to drink, and all types of pastries. On Thursdays and Sundays they have showers too. Really comes in handy.

How much would you say you depend on these kinds of groups?

A lot. Because I made a lot of money for other people in my lifetime, but I've always been bad with my own money. So I make a decent amount on social security, but I think this month's check lasted three days, so there's 28 days left.

I get $1,600 a month, and it would have been like $3,100 if I would have waited for 67, but I retired at 62, applied for SSA, and I couldn't change that because my wife was getting ill and I had to spend more time with her, and I'm glad I did that, because she passed away in 2022, which is when I came here.

So I come to the park for food, coffee I'm drinking now, hygiene, clothing, everything, because let's face it, the City of Tucson does not do much for anybody. They put fences around places where you could get cold water. They take away trash cans, which leaves you no alternative but to throw it in the street. It makes no sense whatsoever.

They have a group of people who wear purple shirts who drive around in golf carts. I don't know what they tell their children they do, but I mean, I could be waiting in front of a store where the cashier is taking a break and they'll come up and say you have to move away from here, so if I move, they're taking away business from the city of Tucson because I'm spending money.

What are your interactions mostly like with the City of Tucson, whether it's the purple shirts or TPD?

All depending on what mood I'm in. I will say my two words, and most of the time they get it. They pick on people who show fear. I'm not afraid of any of their antics. It also depends on what part of the city, like in South Tucson, you stop for two minutes now to talk to somebody and it's "move on, move on." I don't know what their end goal is. I don't think they know. They're doing what they're told by people who may not know what they're doing, you know. But it's gonna reach a bottleneck real soon.

How do you mean?

I mean, people could resort to all out revolution, civil war type of thing. With everything going on, with AI and everything.

Yeah, I think a lot of people feel very oppressed in their daily lives, not just people who are living outside.

Exactly, a lot of people who have jobs, and they're living paycheck to paycheck, are just that close to joining their comrades in the streets.

We see a lot more people coming through Armory Park who have sometimes multiple jobs, homes, kids. I feel like more and more people are having a hard time just getting basics.

Right, right, and you have to have a balance. Because if you have to devote so much time to making ends meet, the family disintegrates, you don't have time for the family. I saw that happen enough.

Do you feel like the negative interactions with police or with the city have gotten worse in recent years?

Yeah, I do. I do. They kind of avoid me for the most part. But I got stopped the other day at three in the afternoon, right on Broadway, two SUVs pulled up and asked me if I was at MLK earlier in the day, which I wasn't, and then asked, "Do you have an open wound?" So they're looking for some suspect, maybe, and it lasted two minutes, and they moved on.

It really does seem like they don't even know what they're trying to do most of the time.

You're absolutely right. The higher ups are giving them these orders. Well, a lot of these people, they want their paychecks, so they'll do whatever they're told. Like I say, I could not be a purple shirt, because you know, I built things. I mean, I can still look at things in LA that I built. What do they look at? Hey, there's that guy sleeping on the sidewalk. I asked him to move the other day. [laughs] What do you do, Daddy? Well, I ride around in a golf cart wearing a purple shirt all day. If I see somebody standing there, I tell them to move. It's not exactly like being Ted Williams and hitting .400 in the major leagues you know?

What do you think the leadership in the city is trying to do with all of this?

Once again, they have no clue. I mean with the politics involved, they don't even know what's going to happen in the next midterms. They're clueless just like everybody else.

Sometimes it seems like they're in a little bit of a panic, like there's so much need in the city, and they don't really know what to do about it.

Right, right. I mean, I'm seeing whole roads torn up, and instead of fixing one, they've got all these new projects starting, and they're not finishing any of them. I mean, I grew up in the Nixon era, and even that was a lot more organized. Give me H.R. Haldeman, John Dean, Liddy. He became a great actor in Miami Vice. He used to have debates with Timothy Leary. Talk about opposite ends of the spectrum.

[laughing] What's your favorite part about coming around to these events and hanging out?

Listening to music you play for me. I like to see people too, and you know I'm glad there's been no incidents tonight, because we both know with the heat, people start losing control and there's no need for that. That's one thing I see. The higher ups who are doing all of this are happy that they keep the people down here divided. This is why you have all the thievery and everything, you know. They don't want people together because then they lose their jobs, and that's all they care about.

How long have you been in Tucson?

Four years this time.

Had you been here before?

Yeah, yeah. I used to come through here a lot. First time I came here was in '58, when I was four years old. And then I was here briefly in the '60s, but I spent quite a bit of time here in the early '70s because I was in bands that actually played some of these places.

Oh wow that's very cool. And what brings you back to Tucson? What draws you here?

I've always loved everything about it, actually. The Old West feel. There was a long hiatus from '86 to 2022 because my late great wife Sandy said it's too hot there, and then she'd take me to bum-bleep, Nevada, and or bum-bleep Texas to visit one of her sisters, with all that humidity. But hey, that's the price you pay for being a loving husband, and it has its benefits. We were married 37 years.

You were married 37 years?

Yeah, redhead.

Sandy was her name?

Yeah. And our son Michael turns 40 on July 15. I was born on 4/11 and she was born on 11/4.

How'd you guys meet?

At a workplace. I started there in July or June of '83. We were a startup. I started out counting computer chips, and she started in December, but pretty soon, by the time she got there, I'd already been promoted because I had run a company before, and these guys didn't know how to open the door.

It was a computer startup?

They made flow controllers. You run all kinds of weird gasses through them, and that's what Intel was doing with their Intel Inside chips. So I worked there from '83 to '89 and we got married in '85. She had already left the company in '86 to do something else. My next job was for one of the first home computer places. I worked there a year. Then I got a job at a company called MagneTek, which was a DOD company.

So it sounds like you did a lot of work in the early computing boom, military contractors, industry contractors?

Yeah and I also did remodeling at a few places, and some of those nine month jobs had great benefits. Before that, I had a Fortune 500 job at CalComp, the second in the world to HP in CAD. We worked long hours so we could give our machines to Desert Storm and Schwarzkopf.

From 2004 to 2013 I worked at Insurance Auto Auctions, IAA. We sold salvage titles in Anaheim, sometimes 350 salvage titles a week, and we're talking Ferraris, Maseratis, Lambos. Yeah, so I tell people I've driven all those, and I'd whisper "200 yards because I drove them back to the show room."

Then I worked four years for an Italian tile company. I was manager of that warehouse. I think it was 2017 or 2018. And that was a good company, because man they used to buy the best Italian food. They came back from Italy all the time.

You’ve lived in California for most of your life?

Yeah, California most of my life. Anaheim. I used to see Walt at Disneyland all the time when I started going in the early '60s. In my opinion, Disneyland actually stopped progressing when Walt died in '66. Some of the luster has left, but some still remains.

Sounds like a lot of places these days, some of the polish has kind of worn off. Were you born in California?

Ohio. Columbus, Ohio, the Buckeyes.

Ah ok. But then you moved out West when you were young.

At 7, but from the age of 7 to 16, I'd spend nine months in California and three months in the summer in Ohio every year. So I got both cultures. In California, from second grade until I graduated, there was one Black student. He was the first baseman on my baseball team. But in Columbus it was 50/50. And in Anaheim, it was 50% Latino back then, so I had both cultures, which I think contributed more to my understanding than anything.

Do you have family back in the Midwest still?

I do have one son there still, I haven't seen him in years, he's in Cleveland. I plan on trying to go by there on this trip.

So you have a son in Ohio, and one in Los Angeles.

And there was one that I barely knew, because his mother, when we were together, it was a two-year type of thing, in my early 20s, and she took him and moved back to Belgium when he was two years old. He died of a heroin overdose when he was in his early 30s in Amsterdam.

I'm sorry to hear that.

But sad to say we were not close. All three of my major loves have passed away too. But hey, I'm still going strong. I've been going downhill since '72. My peak year was in 1972 when I was 18. I'll tell you why. I was a union carpenter. I was still playing baseball at a fairly high level, American Legion. I was dating a model for Hanes. In a three month period, I saw Zeppelin twice, the Stones twice, Deep Purple, and Elvis. It's been going downhill since then, you can't top that.

You were kind of a hippie back then right?

My nickname was the Hollywood hippie. Because I always dressed fairly upscale. I wasn't into tie dye. I was a wannabe Rod Stewart or Brian Ferry.

I see, kind of glam. Was this in LA?

Yeah LA, Orange County.

What was it like living there in those days?

I loved it. I mean, that's why I met everybody I met, because you're in LA, Hollywood, you meet everyone.

I know you're a huge music fan and a musician. How did you get involved in bands?

When The Monkees TV series came on, everybody in the neighborhood bought a guitar. In one neighborhood in Anaheim there must have been 20 bands. You play with everybody, and eventually you'd settle in. Some guys I played with were pretty good, I mean, I was never pretty good, but I did some things.

I played with one guy, a guitar player, who backed Peter Frampton. I played with drummers who were excellent, bass players who were excellent, keyboardists who were excellent. But I was always... Well, here's an example. We're practicing in the garage one night, and it was in my liqueur period, and I bought this bubble gum liqueur from Mexico, and I spilled it all over his Fender Rhodes keyboard. He was such a nice guy, he should have killed me, but I paid for the repair.

What instruments do you play?

I play guitar, piano.

I remember you used to joke that other members would say you were always the worst one in the band.

Haha yeah I was.

What was your band's name?

Zephyr.

Zephyr, cool. And you guys did kind of classic rock songs?

Yeah and originals. I wrote some good shit later on, but it was too late, my career was over. I mean, by 1977 I was 23 and I was done. I had people to support. We had to pay some clubs to play there, to get a fan base. I needed money coming in. Yeah, but it was fun.

Lot of good times I bet.

Okay, I may have been the worst musician, but I was the best rock star in any band that I was in because I knew how to play the crowd.

What do you miss about that era?

Charlie Manson. (laughs) Charlie changed everything, though, in a lot of ways. Overnight. Woodstock was the peak. And a few months later, Altamont. I almost went to that, but I was 15 and my mother said I would never get another dime of allowance. That was about the last time I obeyed her, but it made sense at the time and hey, it was not a pretty scene there.

You were telling me before about your activism in those days, can you tell me a little more about that?

Let's go back to August 1970. I went to Yippie Day at Disneyland, and that was Jerry Rubin and Abbie Hoffman. [At the International Yippie Pow Wow, protestors stormed the theme park and clashed with riot cops, leading to one of only a few unplanned closures in Disneyland's history.] And the police over-prepared so much, it was unbelievable, because protestors had just burned down a bank in Santa Barbara, a Bank of America, because they were funding the Vietnam War. So the police had a .50 caliber on Main Street in Disneyland, and they threw people through the windows. There were probably 500 people there undercover. I gave out about 50 different names. They arrested some people, including one of my friends.

And I marched for some other LA things. Yeah, Cesar Chavez, although maybe I should take that back now. Oscar Zeta Acosta, Hunter Thompson's attorney, and the Brown Berets, who occupied Catalina Island around that time.

Were you mostly doing anti-war protesting?

And anti-Nixon. Because I watched all of Watergate. In fact, yesterday was the anniversary of the famous smoking gun tape. What a botched effort. And Nixon, I mean, he was gonna beat McGovern by 50 million votes anyway. But he was pretty paranoid, and he drank a lot.

How do you compare the political atmosphere then to the political atmosphere now?

It's tough to compare. I mean, you had two clear sides then, I think. Yeah, you did, yeah. And now it's all blurry gray. I mean, you can't say Republicans and Democrats. Biden's presidency was terrible.

Yeah, I think people are very disenchanted with the whole system.

And that's one of the reasons I'm leaving right now. Because I need answers to something, and I'm a seeker still. And I'm very disappointed with my post-marital behavior. Nobody's fault but my own, right, but we're going to see if we can rectify the rest of the journey, because I feel like I got a little ways to go.

So this is kind of a self-discovery trip you're going on?

Yeah, and plus, I've been wanting to go to New Orleans since I was 17 and I've never been there.

I remember you said you were going to Montana and Wyoming too?

Yeah, yeah. Never been there, and me and my wife were going to go there, you know. She wanted to go to Yellowstone and she'd never been there. And we were going to rent an SUV or even a motor home, and then she passed away. So I'm gonna go and my eyes and my feet are gonna be... I'll send her pictures that way.

What do you hope to find when you're on your trip?

Okay, one thing I am looking for is with my income, my fixed income, places where I could live more comfortably. I can't really handle the cold, so it would probably be a warm weather place. Yeah, so I'll probably end up in Southern California still. (laughs) I've still got a Hollywood career left in my future I think. Either that or go to Tombstone and work in the Wild West show (laughs).

What are some of the hopes you have for, I guess, your next act?

Well, I still want to meet the right woman, you know, because I function much better with women in my life. I gotta be kept on a leash. I get too wild.

I imagine it's hard after being married for so long, you can become kind of adrift.

Right, yeah, it is. But I can't be left without a leash. I just revert back to my young Hollywood days, where I think I'm Hunter S. Thompson. And I'm 72.

Would you be open to telling me a little about your housing situation? You're unhoused right now, right?

Yeah you know, I was renting a garage, and then I rented a room. But one reason I'm unhoused is because I will not go anywhere where there's limits on what time I have to come in, blah blah blah. And I've applied for housing through several organizations, through HUD and everything, and you're on a waiting list forever. But yeah, that's one of the things I'm hoping to do now, solve that. My son said, aren't you sick of it yet? Yeah, I'm pretty sick of it.

I think you're not alone, though. I think a lot of people who are unhoused look at the options and a lot of times they're really restrictive, right? I think people in your situation can maybe get some level of money, but it's not enough to get you to where you can have a comfortable life that you feel is the right match for you.

Yeah, the places I'd like to live, I can't afford. And I still have fun, and fun is more important than security sometimes. Quoting Dylan here, there's no success like failure. For security, the price is too high sometimes. I mean everybody has a choice to make, which is why I'm taking this trip and hoping to find some answers. I'm still a seeker. I won't get to get what I'm after until the day I die.

The Who.

You know it's sad, but a lot of these people don't have any plan. I mean, that's why I'm leaving, but they're stuck here. They can't leave. They can't. Very few people can escape from this trap that they're in, and it's not the city of Tucson. I mean, they're trapped in every city.

And you have to find a way. I mean hey I may fail, I realize that I may go to El Paso and get stuck in Juarez and get locked in a Mexican prison for the rest of my life, that is a true possibility. But there has to be another place to go if you're this swamped. I mean, a lot of these people have no income whatsoever, social security, or disability or anything. I do make a decent amount of money compared to them.

I've noticed that you talk to everybody, and for a lot of people, you seem to be a little like a father figure. What kind of support do you give to people?

Advice, comfort. I do help people financially. I ran into a lady who was stressing, and I had some money on my card, this is Monday, and so I took her to Walmart, and I got her ice cream and a drink, and I gave her a few cigarettes. I said I gotta go, and she thanked me very much, and that meant a lot, because she did appreciate it.

Well, I'd like to thank you for everything. It's always been a pleasure knowing you and talking with you. I mean, our film conversations are great.

Wait, I gotta ask before you go, you have to tell me the five best shows you've ever been to.

Rock and roll?

Yeah, whatever.

Okay. Number one, Zeppelin at the Long Beach Arena in 1972.

Number two The Who at Anaheim Stadium, 1970.

All right, number three, The Rolling Stones at Candlestick Park in 1981.

These are good.

Number four, okay. Okay, number four. Oh, Fleetwood Mac at the San Bernardino Auditorium with Peter Green in 1971.

And number five would be, let's see. Let's go punk, The Clash opening for The Who in 81 at the LA Coliseum. That was the Combat Rock tour.

Oh, nice. All right, now top five movies.

Sergio Leone directed Clint Eastwood's third and final spaghetti western The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. That also includes a great performance by Eli Wallach as Tuco.

Number two, let's go with my favorite comedy of all time, Some Like It Hot, Billy Wilder.

Number three, let's go with... Oh, number three, let's go back to John Wayne, Rio Bravo, 1959 with Walter Brennan, Ricky Nelson is great in that movie, Angie Dickinson.

Number four. Okay, Bogart in The Big Sleep.

You like Big Sleep better than Maltese Falcon?

Yeah, I like The Big Sleep better.

Me too.

Five. Number five. Wow. Okay, okay. Here we go. Giant. Liz Taylor, Rock Hudson, Dennis Hopper, my hero. I love that movie.

How many movies was James Dean in? Not many right?

Only three. I never cared too much for Steinbeck's East of Eden. Yeah, but I loved Rebel Without a Cause. Giant too. Elizabeth Taylor, she was a monument, she could do it all. I have so much respect for her, because she was the first person to stand up for people with AIDS when nobody else would.

Another thing I always like to ask is what's bringing you joy these days? These are kind of hard times, can be a little rough for people. What makes you happy?

The smile of a beautiful woman. Sporting events. Everything that‘s always made me happy. Memories.

I try to take joy in everything and have a positive attitude instead of negativity. I think everybody should try to strive for that.

Oh, I thought of one other thing I wanted to ask, and then I promise I'll let you go. When they were trying to shut us down last year, and you were at the protest and made the news, what was that day like for you?

That brought back memories, it did. I had been there back in the '70s, and that was great with all the news crews here and everything, the turnout. You guys pulled that off, you guys did that, and I appreciate that, I mean, somebody stood up finally.

Well, it was very memorable. It felt like we were all there standing up for each other, including you standing up for us. We appreciated you being there, and we always really appreciate having you around, and everything you do. The role you play in the park is really important.

Yeah, well, I'll leave my spirit here.

We're gonna miss you.

I'll miss you guys.

We hope you make it back at some point. You're gonna try to make it as far as New Orleans?

Maybe Miami. Bring back those days, the Miami Vice days, get my Don Johnson Blazer.

Well, I hope you have a great trip Mike. I really appreciate you doing this.

Postscript: We walked back to the park and everyone was starting to pack up for the night. Mike said his goodbyes and gave people hugs. Standing under the big tree where we congregate, he shouted, "One more time, solidarity not charity!" I played him two more song requests — Roam by the B-52s and The Last Time by the Rolling Stones.

Well, I'm sorry girl but I can't stay
Feeling like I do today
It's too much pain and too much sorrow
Guess I'll feel the same tomorrow

Well this could be the last time
This could be the last time
Maybe the last time
I don't know