Faces of West County: JD Gadde

Last week, I met JD, an imposing character with a lot on his mind, who had moved his iconic bus to behind the Youth Annex over on Morris Street. The big move over to the SAVS (Sonoma Applied Village Services) property up on 116, was days away. JD wasn’t sure how he’d do with the imposed rules and guidelines the place was going to come along with, but it also seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up.
So today, a week later, I went over to the new facility that’s sprung up on one acre across from Mary’s Pizza. It’s meant to shelter 18 RVs/trailers and their residents who are being relocated from the encampment on Morris and surrounding streets. The grand opening is officially tomorrow, Feb. 15, but JD’s bus is one of a few vehicles that are already on the property. It’s a big deal, certainly for those who are moving in, and also for the wary neighbors who border the site, and who are understandably nervous and worried.
Looking at the site, complete with showers, electricity, a few picnic tables for communal dining, improved security and support services, I couldn’t help but think of “The Grapes of Wrath.” As the Joad family, poor homeless migrants from the Dust Bowl and stuck in the Great Depression, not entirely unlike people on Morris Street, drifted toward California, they rolled into a government-run migrant camp. To their shock, it was clean and safe, had running water, a little privacy, and the residents of the camp weren’t treated as outlaws. They were treated with respect. That’s what this new little village that’s being launched on the Feb. 15, seems to me.
JD has big rugged, working persons, hands. His tough presence hides a thoughtful, sensitive and ethical man. We sat on the grass outside his bus, Mount St. Helena and the Laguna just behind us. Here’s a small part of JD’s story.
Where and when were you born, JD? 
Oct. 20, 1975, in Detroit, Michigan. My mother was Creek Indian, and my dad was adopted. I’ve got no idea where his people were from. He died when I was five … We moved to Alabama when I was in the third grade.
I’ve got an older half-brother, a motorcycle cop in Toledo. Another half-brother, Eddie, is a flight mechanic for army helicopters. I’m close to my sister, who is near my mom in Alabama.
I sent my mother to school, to become a flight mechanic as well. I was making good money as a pipe fitter in the midwest at the time. She’s an aircraft sheet metal mechanic now.
Did you finish school? 
I was expelled two or three days before 11th grade was over.
What happened?
A guy put a staple in my arm, and I returned the favor in kind. We both got kicked out. It wasn’t my first offense. I had some extreme violence in my childhood … I’m actually on probation right now for a violent crime, but that paints a picture of me that’s not entirely accurate.
So how much time have you done?  
Seventy-six days, but only recently out here in California.
For what?
I hit a guy in the head with a stick, the day after he hit me. Being a Libra, balancing the scales is important to me.
How much more probation? 
I’ll be off this summer.
So what happened after you got tossed out of the 11th grade? 
I enrolled in a GED program, and passed the test right away. A few days later I enrolled at Shelton State Community College near Tuscaloosa. I majored in English, but I’ve had a few majors in my time. I didn’t finish. Partied too much. Didn’t finish there, or the other colleges I went to.
I went to work as a plumbing apprentice for five years, and then became a pipe fitter. Even had my own business, which fell apart when the housing bubble burst.
Did you ever marry?
For 16 years. Four kids. They’re all in Michigan. I’m in touch, but it’s been a few years since I’ve seen them. The oldest daughter is 22, and then youngest son is 13. I miss them terribly.
I lost everything in the divorce. I let everything go, and came out here to California. That’s when things really fell apart for me.
I lived in the Laguna for three and a half years, in a rammed dirt and pallet wood house. It was a nice house, but it got bulldozed.
I’ve been bulldozed three times.
I had a brain aneurysm about a year and a half ago. I passed out on the street in Guerneville. I had a bad headache that morning, and within an hour I was on the ground.
I was taken to Sutter, but they let me out later that day. They said I needed surgery right away, but I couldn’t remember phone numbers, or the appointments they had made for me.
A volunteer from SAVS, an organization that advocates for homeless people, really saved me. She made sure I’d get to appointments, and helped me follow through. She literally saved me.
Drugs?
I never allowed drugs to be an excuse for my behavior. Never been in trouble because of them. And I don’t drink at all.
Why not?
I’m Creek and Cherokee Indian and part Scottish. So alcohol just doesn’t make sense for me. I never got into it.
You’ve got a very cool bus for a home now. How’d you get that? 
A good friend bought it for me.
Wow. How long have you been on Morris Street? 
Off and on for six years.
Why do you think the whole encampment is being moved now? 
The homeless situation on Morris is a difficult thing for people to see. It’s unsightly. We do our business, go about living, right in the street.
How much of this is about being close to the upscale Barlow? 
I don’t know. I don’t blame them.
Morris was just a safe place, where people weren’t hassled.
I’ve got a good rapport with the Sebastopol police. In general they’ve been fair with me.
(And then, like it was scripted, an older woman walks over to us and greets JD warmly. She doesn’t want to sit down, not certain that she’d be able to get up. It’s Suzanne, the woman from SAVS who was so instrumental in helping JD after his aneurysm.)
JD – Your ears must have been burning.
Suzanne – … I’ve become very close to JD. I’ve gotten to know him and the community here … People look out for each other here on the street. JD is immediately there for others when something isn’t right. Including me! … When someone was having a mental health crisis, JD and others jumped right in to help her out … There’s a sense of taking responsibility for each other out here.
I’ve heard that JD makes his bus available to women who need a safe place at night and it’s not motivated by sex. 
Suzanne – I’ve seen how women, and men too, truly find a safe place in his bus. JD is an amazing writer and artist too. You need to hear his poetry. (JD, humbly remains quiet.)
(Suzanne, understandably wants to talk about the new place SAVS is helping put together.) … The new place (across from Mary’s) looks great. There’s going to be two part-time case managers, and one full time. Their job is going to be to help with “coordinated entry” — getting people into more stable housing and jobs.
It sounds really promising. But back to you JD. Tell us more about your Indian heritage. 
My grandfathers, on my mother’s side, were chiefs. Creek, and Cherokee. We went to church growing up, but to pow-wows too. We ate Indian food. I think that’s one reason it’s easier for me to live feral, off the grid. It’s the Indian in me.
Have you voted JD? 
Not in a long time. I’m not really participating as an American. Not any more. I view myself as someone born here, but I didn’t choose the ideology, or the name. I’m a man who’s just living in the world.
So what do you see happening for yourself? 
I just want to live in the present. Enjoy my food and sleep, and continue to be of service to those around me.
If you had some extra cash, who would you give it to? 
Whoever around me needs it most, or maybe to the JD Gadde Get-My-Vehicle-Registered Fund.
We all laugh.
JD may not be living among the Creek or Cherokee people he was born into, but he’s certainly living a tribal life.
It’s the tribe of souls living rough out in the Laguna and on Morris and Johnson, and soon, up on Gravenstein Hwy. North.
Sonoma Applied Villages Services – “Creating Tiny Villages for Sonoma County’s Unsheltered” 
For more information about SAVS or to donate funds, go to: 
https://sonomavillages.org