Admittedly, my feelings for my hometown of Minneapolis run hot and cold. Most days I see the challenges the city faces yet remain optimistic about its future. Other days I just shake my head in disgust knowing that the city has gotten to the point where, reminiscent of Detroit, it is destined to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.
Whether it’s financial challenges, political challenges, or public safety challenges, Minneapolis has been in a bad place for several years now. But it was a bright sunny morning today, so I thought I’d take a drive through South Minneapolis and see if I could generate some optimism. It backfired, and those with optimism for Minneapolis under it’s current leadership are in denial.
I started by driving past the Whipple Building near Fort Snelling – the site of the Immigration and Customs Enforcement ICE HQ during the recent Operation Metro Surge. As I neared the area the first thing I noticed was crude anti ICE graffiti on bridge abutments, jersey barriers, powerline poles, buildings – you name it. F**K ICE seemed to be the most popular message, followed closely by Kill ICE. The Whipple Building and area roadways and parking lots were all separated by jersey barriers and fencing to keep protestors out of the road and from disrupting ICE agents coming and going from the building. Even this morning, more than a week after a significant draw down of ICE agents in the area, about two dozen protestors were in the area. Their continued daily presence necessitates Hennepin County’s continued rental of barriers and fencing at significant taxpayer expense.
Next, I drove up Hiawatha Ave and noticed what appears to be a possible homeless encampment near Camp Coldwater – an area local Native Americans have described as a sacred place in their history. Junk cars, a dilapidated motorhome with out-of-state plates, tarps, and a satellite toilet litter the area visible from Hiawatha Ave. More F**K ICE graffiti adorned the area.
I then made my way to East Lake Street, a section of town I grew up in during the 70’s and 80’s, and a part of town I worked in as a sheriff’s deputy up through 2022. There are a few businesses that remain, including my old dentist’s office. But the thing that stands out on East Lake Street in 2026 is the number of vacant lots surrounded by fencing (to prevent encampments from forming). Most of the vacant lots are the result of the “uprising” following the death of George Floyd in 2020. Even the old Minneapolis Police 3rd Precinct which was abandoned and burned during the uprising sits behind cyclone fencing, 6 years after it was attacked. A sign on the fence reads “Site of future Democracy Center.” Graffiti dominated most of the drive along East Lake St. – a development in recent years that screams disfunction.
I then continued north on Hiawatha Ave. exiting on Cedar. The scene under the Hiawatha Ave overpass is best described as dystopian. Many refer to it as a homeless encampment, but it is more accurately an open-air fentanyl den. Dozens of fentanyl addicts stand or lay around passed out. Tarps, tents, cardboard and garbage liter the sidewalks and street. The service road leading to the light rail maintenance facility just to the north is like a gauntlet that Metro Transit employees must traverse daily. The stench was immediately apparent – even with my windows up. The conditions in the area make it impassible for law abiding citizens who might need to walk or bike through that area. The scene is absolutely disgusting to witness, and it boggles the mind to think how Minneapolis leaders can allow this scene to exist. It’s a complete disaster and emblematic of a city in deep trouble.
I ended my trip by driving through the Cedar Riverside area, an area dominated by Somali immigrants. Cedar Ave used to be a vibrant area with several dive bars, a coffee house made famous by Bob Dylan, and Midwest Mountaineering – the venerable outdoor and hiking outfitter. Those businesses are all gone, and most of those buildings sit empty. About a dozen fentanyl addicts huddled in the doorways of three buildings. Some lay on the ground unconscious while others looked around anxiously. The entire block was as unwelcome a place as you will find.
But fear not, just steps from the fentanyl addicts was a white male wearing a yellow vest, a walkie talkie, and a whistle. He was dutifully manning his ICE Watch post ready to alert the neighborhood if federal law enforcement officers dared to show up. His presence, steps from passed out addicts, was something to behold. I realized that I had seen another six or eight other ICE Watch members during my drive on East Lake St. and near my former middle school. The mixed up and misplaced passion of these folks is bewildering.
The scenes this morning were something you might find in a movie set in 1980’s New York. Sadly, they were reality in South Minneapolis on this beautiful sunny morning. The contrast was disturbing and drive left me deflated.
