Ryan Hogge hangs out with friends and neighbors at Windsor's Armory Square Apartments in May.
Chapter One
Even after National Acme left Windsor, workers at the town's other major factories continued to fill the Block. "In the '40s, '50s, and '60s, it was a great place to live," said Windsor town historian Barbara Rhoad.
"People came, they lived at the Block, raised their families, saved their money, and then bought houses in Windsor. People have fond memories of living there back in those times."
But when the manufacturing industry began to leave Windsor for good, the Block fell into decline. Out-of-state landlords bought the building in the 1980s and converted it to a subsidized housing complex, administered through a Section 8 contract with the federal government.
These days, the memories generated by the Block are not so fond. In 2005, when town officials compiled comprehensive records on the apartment complex, the Block's levels of violent and drug-related crime were double, and in some cases triple, those of the rest of the town. During that period, these 72 apartments, which at the time held 10 percent of Windsor's population, accounted for 36 percent of the town's police calls for family fights, 35 percent of calls for drug activity, 32 percent of noise disturbances, 23 percent of child welfare calls, and 20 percent of reported assaults. Inside the Block's majestic brick facade, which has earned it a listing on the National Register of Historic Places, the hallways teem with obscene graffiti and empty beer cans.
"It's a ghetto scene," says former resident Dardine Beckman. "The way the projects down in Massachusetts used to be."
A few days after a stranger was stabbed outside her door, Julie steps into her tiny kitchen from the bloodstained back balcony and declares, in an even tone, that the workweek has come to an end.
"It's Friday, isn't it," she says.
This is not necessarily a good thing. Next door, the loud rap music is already starting up, vibrating through the walls into Julie's place. If tonight is like any other Friday night, there will soon come screaming, fighting, the metallic odor of crack smoke drifting in through the windows. Maybe even gunshots, or another stabbing. Julie knows it's all happened before.