The Mole People: Homeless Communities Underground

It's easy to imagine any metropolis as a living organism; just like ancient people saw goddesses in the landscape.

The roads and buildings are features upon the skin; skyscrapers soaring like follicles of hair. The inbound trucks and trains bring sustenance to its gaping mouth. Its rubbish is excreted and carried away to landfill.

The people move across it and, if we were unkind or hard on ourselves, they would be the parasites. Though, in this analogy, it might be better to think of us as the life-force, the energy, which truly gives this city its personality.

But what lies beneath? As with any body, there are the arteries and veins, which keep the blood-cells pumping. Subways and sewers; gas pipes and water channels; buried rivers and streams; and the remains of the original city, upon which later incarnations are built.

It's another world down there, encased in darkness and dangerous. It is where thousands of people have no other option but to live.

When sociologist Jennifer Toth ventured into the tunnels, in search of the near mythical Mole People, she expected to find a nightmare world of drug addiction, alcoholism and the very dregs of society.

She found them alright, but she also encountered teachers, social workers and other professionals. They were living testimony to the truism that many of us are only three or four pay-packets away from destitution.

She also discovered a young Puerto Rican family, terrified of being deported, if they resided above. The children were in their school uniforms. The father worked in construction. The mother did her best to keep a filthy environment clean and healthy. They had fled a nice, suburban apartment, when a neighbor learned that they were undocumented.

There was an enclave of children in a concealed room beneath a central station. It had once been a cellar but, for whatever reason, the doors had been bricked up. They'd found a wall with a hole in it for an entrance. Traumatized runaways huddled together; one tiny boy was practically paralyzed with fear, after witnessing his mother's murder.

Meanwhile, just one tunnel along, a roving gang of assassins would take anyone out for cash.

These are just some of the stories that she revealed in her book, The Mole People: Life in the Tunnels Beneath New York City.

The tunnels provide shelter from the elements; and some protection from the more respectable of society's sadists.

Ordinary citizens are scared to go down there. Legends speak of cannibals and cut-throats. The latter, at least, is certainly true. But immersed in the darkness, it's easier to hide and no-one is prey to drunken city gangs using them as sport.

The homeless cling together, in pairs or desperate communities. Some have their own rules; own leaders. Jennifer Toth discovered an ex-social worker, who ran his tunnel in ways reminiscent of Apocalypse Now's Colonel Kurtz. No-one could eat, drink, leave the tunnel or move without his permission. But that was OK. He was a professional and he could keep them safe.

The police do occasionally raid. Charity workers penetrate the upper reaches. Government officials attempt to charter the depths. But they are only scraping up the tip of the iceberg, because the tunnels burrow very far underground.

As deep as she was able to penetrate, Jennifer found a school. Its pupils were children who had been born and raised in the dark. Some of them had never seen the surface. Those who had were terrified by the noise, the crowds and the sky. But they were well educated. Their teacher was fully qualified and she had materials smuggled down by runners. She'd merely lost the ability to cope with her life up above.

With all of the publicity given, in films and books, to the Mole People of New York, it wasn't long before others wondered about their own subterranean cities. Many have found them too, including a reporter in Las Vegas, USA.

Matthew O'Brien ventured into the miles of storm drains under the city. There he discovered hundreds of make-shift homes, built where its residents face the constant fear of drowning. These vast tunnels were, after all, constructed to save the city from desert flash floods by channeling excess water underground.

He became so moved by what he found that he switched careers to become an advocate for the homeless; as well as a guide for social workers to come and aid the forgotten people. The stories that he uncovered became headline news, then were chronicled in his book, Beneath the Neon: Life and Death in the Tunnels of Las Vegas.