Careful what you wish for, Ms. Beaty. If Mr. Terrill can build a robot that casts attention to the deep, deep poverty in Atlanta, you could be out of a job.Cars passing O'Terrill's pub screech to a halt at the sight of a 300-pound, waist-high robot marked "SECURITY" rolling through downtown long after dark.
The regulars hardly glance outside. They've seen bar owner Rufus Terrill's invention on patrol before — its bright red lights and even brighter spot light blazing, infrared video camera filming and water cannon at the ready in the spinning turret on top.
"You're trespassing. That's private property," Terrill scolds an older man through the robot's loudspeaker. The man is sitting at the edge of the driveway to a child care center down the street. "Go on."
The man's hands go up and he shuffles into the shadows. Almost immediately, a group of men behind him scatters too.
The Bum Bot's reputation, it seems, has preceded it.
The electronic vigilante — on the beat since September — has enraged neighborhood activists, who have threatened protests.
(...snip...)
Just north of downtown Atlanta, Terrill's bar is near luxury apartment complexes, condo towers and Terrill's home. But vagrants gather at a nearby homeless shelter. Break-ins and robberies are common. And used needles litter the grounds of the child care center, where Terrill sits on the board.
"They're out here to get money for drugs, to get money from breaking into cars," he says. "These are bad guys."
Terrill bought the bar four years ago, plowing his profit from selling an apartment complex into the smoky dive. He named it O'Terrill's, gave it an Irish theme and decorated it with knickknacks he and his wife, Linda, had lying around.
At first, he walked around, indoors and out, with an assault rifle on his shoulder to scare away vagrants, but police told him to put away the gun. Then he used a spotlight. But the bar was still being vandalized, and guns were stuck in his face several times.
His wife suggested he patrol a safer way — using a robot.
An environmental engineer by day, Terrill gathered the makings of his vigilante for three months. A three-wheel scooter gives the Bum Bot mobility. A home-alarm loudspeaker attached to a walkie-talkie gives it a voice. Its head is a former home meat-smoker. The red lights are from a 1997 Chevrolet, and it's powered by four car batteries.
(...snip...)
"There are children in our neighborhood that use that day care center," he says. "People are coming on private property, they're defecating, they're throwing crack needles, sometimes they're throwing crack rocks."
Some who live on the streets say Terrill's going too far.
"This is going to intimidate a lot of people," says Rosetta Watkins, who used to live in a nearby shelter and has worked for Terrill. "You're going to intimidate a lot more people than you're going to help."
Homeless advocates agree.
"It's a play for public attention for Rufus. He's certainly got a lot of attention — but not the kind we need for housing, living wages," says Anita Beaty, director of Metro Atlanta Task Force for the Homeless. "This robot isn't casting attention to the deep, deep poverty in Atlanta."
Link
Photo of the Bum Bot here.
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