an update :1000 acres sweep

[erica Manley]

JUNE 5TH, 2025 — THE FIRST SWEEP

June 5th was the day everything began. We had been preparing for weeks — weekly meetings, sharing information, coordinating with each other, building communication lines. I was working on the injunction and the first co‑stewardship proposal, finished and ready. We weren’t unprepared. We weren’t disorganized. We weren’t “just a camp.” We were a community with yards, structures, systems, and a plan.

But at dawn on June 5th, they came anyway.

ODOT, Parks Services, the Railroad, State Police, and County Police — all coordinated.

They rolled in with excavators and skid steers and immediately began scooping up tents, bulldozing structures, tearing through yards, destroying everything without a single conversation with the people who lived there. No 72‑hour notice. No retrieval plan. No facility number. No acknowledgment that this wasn’t a “new camp.” No respect for the fact that we had built homes.

Northwest Hazmat arrived next — under the impression that it was appropriate to bag people’s belongings and prepare to bury them, not haul them. They didn’t know whose things they were scooping. They didn’t care. They were following orders from agencies who didn’t even understand the community they were destroying.

We made call after call to the governor’s office.
We recorded footage.
We made banners.
We stood our ground.

We built barriers.
We dug trenches.
We refused to disappear.

On the second day, NW Hazmat returned — fully masked, partnered with DSL, and armed with bear mace. They bear‑maced our protesters because they refused to move out of the way of the machines destroying their homes.

This was the moment the truth became undeniable:
They weren’t sweeping debris.
They were sweeping people.

JUNE 8TH, 2025 — THE PAUSE

June 8th was the day everything shifted.

My co‑stewardship proposal was published. We handed copies to DSL. We handed copies to the media. I sent it to Troutdale, Metro, land‑use contacts, stewardship contacts — anyone who could intervene.

And it worked.

We achieved the pause.

For a moment, things were moving in the right direction.

NW Hazmat walked off the job.
Hired security left.
ODOT installed a gate and an outhouse — all the things we had asked for (outhouses, dumpsters), but not for our use. For theirs.

But still — we got the pause.

We kept meeting with the wrap team.
We gave interviews.
Media attention grew.
The truth spread.

For a minute, we almost had a path forward.

This was the beginning of the 1000 Acres Initiative — not the October sweep, not the later moves, not the Rapid Response agreement.
June 5th and June 8th were the true start.

[erica Manley]

After we achieved the pause on June 8th, 2025, we continued working every single day to keep the momentum alive. We called the governor’s office constantly. We sent out proposals. We held meetings. We planned and coordinated. We stayed organized because we knew the pause wasn’t safety — it was only borrowed time.

During this period, Michael and I secured two storage units, and we got one for the community as well. We needed to safeguard the things we couldn’t afford to lose: shop tools, my quad, my son’s motorcycle, emergency supplies, my tamarak, the small amounts of my children’s belongings, my daughter’s memorial items that were part of the community center, my TV, and all the sentimental things that cannot be replaced. The shop’s contents alone represented years of work.

We had not been swept in 8 years. We were an established community with assumed permission. Many residents had “1000 Acres” listed as their Oregon ID address. We were not like the rest of Oregon’s displaced populations. We were different. We had achieved something no other homeless community had: stability, continuity, multi‑generational history, and a functioning community against all odds.

None of this mattered to the Department of State Lands. They knew what they were doing violated policy. They knew they would not have backup from The Hope Team or OSP. Those agencies wanted nothing to do with destroying what they had built with community members over the years. They knew displacement would cause more problems than it solved.

Finally, we got word that we had secured a meeting. The hope, stated by Jonna from the governor’s office — the resiliency officer — was that this would be the first of many. That date was August 19th, 2025.

As we were closing the evening meeting on August 19th, someone ran into the community center yelling “Fire!” We all jumped up, grabbed shovels, and ran. We did what we always do: made a fire line, shoveled dirt, hauled water from the river. We stayed until the fire was out. A few stayed behind to monitor for flare-ups.

Michael and I stayed behind. I left briefly to get a digital thermal thermometer so we could check temperatures and make sure nothing reignited. We planned to make dinner for everyone. When I got back, the fire had relit. We spent another 5 hours battling it to ensure no forest fire occurred. We handled it — like always — without Corbett Fire Department’s help.

The next day, we received a message: they wanted to move the meeting up from the newly set date of September 24th to the very next day. I was still writing the second proposal, adding infrastructure details, pulling more information and facts to align with what we hoped could be done.

All we were asking for was to be part of the cleanup. They could save money and be pioneers in the solution. Two new bills had been passed that aligned perfectly with what we were proposing. With another month, I felt confident I could have written a proposal that found a middle ground — a way for everyone to get what they needed and wanted.

We held them off until September 4th.

[erica Manley]

THE MEETING WITH THE GOVERNOR’S OFFICE — DISCUSSION & DISCLOSURE

When the meeting began, we stated our ask clearly. We opened the table with our proposal, our documentation, and our lived experience. We pleaded our case. We explained the history, the community, the stewardship, the 8 years of stability, and the generational continuity that made the Acres different from any other community in Oregon.

Franny spoke about land she had found nearby. It was viable, but funding was the barrier. We were told, “There is plenty of money — we just cannot do anything about the timeline.” We pushed and pushed, but they would not disclose the real reason for the timeline.

Sara Manning told us she had not yet received the contract, but she was “all but certain” she would. She promised the move would be done with respect. She promised they would help as much as possible. She promised the transition would be smooth. Deals were struck. Contracts were written. We were given until October 1st.

They would not admit the truth: that they were monetizing the Acres. That they were connecting the Acres to the 40‑Mile Loop. That this was about development, not safety. They claimed it was about flooding concerns, liability, and “learning from mistakes made during the first sweep.” They said they would be more compassionate. They said they would do better. They said they understood.

They read the proposal and said it was well‑written, but that we were “lacking infrastructure.” They ignored the fact that we had built the very infrastructure they wanted — cleared invasive species, maintained paths, removed dead standing trees, cleaned up storm damage, protected the public, and stewarded the land for years.

After the meeting, there were more meetings. Secret nods. Lack of disclosure. Information withheld. I continued digging, researching, trying to find a way forward, but nothing broke loose.

We did secure one year of sanitation services — outhouses, wash stations, and garbage service — through Rapid Response’s owner, Lance. It was something, but it wasn’t enough to save the Acres.

If we are known for anything, it is that we change lives. We are not the usual humans people expect. We are not the houseless without hope. We formed a community, carried on what elders established, and did our best to restore normalcy. This had been allowed for more than 8 years.

And then we were treated as though none of it mattered. As though we had not been the stewards of this land. As though we had not built the very systems they wanted in the proposal.

This was the meeting. This was the truth behind the promises. This was the beginning of the end of the Acres as we knew it.

[Author]

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