Ambulance Driver Meets a Panhandler
At a young age I received the book “The Celebrated Cases of Sherlock Holmes.” My favorite Holmes story has always been The Man with the Twisted Lip. It tells the tale of Neville St. Clair, who found he could earn more in a day of begging than he could in a week as a reporter for an evening newspaper.
Across the nation, in metropolitan areas, one sees a great many folks standing along the road holding signs speaking of their desperation. I’ve often thought of Mr. St. Clair and wondered just how much money they were taking in during their day’s work. A few months ago, the Ambulance Driver was given an inside glimpse at a panhandler’s life style.
We responded to a call on the near south side of the city for a man who had fallen. There we found a fellow that was bleeding from a badly lacerated hand. He was mid-forties, but could have passed for a younger man. He had good teeth, erect bearing, passable grammar and was sober. The reason these attributes stood out was that he obviously was a “street person.” He was grimy, but not filthy. He carried a backpack stuffed with most of his worldly possessions, one of which was a sign that read, ”Desperate Please Help.”
As I bandaged his hand, I thought of Neville St. Clair and decided to see just how talkative my patient was going to be on the trip to the hospital.
He responded to my inquiries as follows:
He had been panhandling on the Nicollet Mall for several months. His reserved spot was near the entrance of a well known department store. Apparently there is some sort of unwritten rule that no one dare panhandle in his spot as long as he was around. He is there Monday through Friday, appearing sometime just before lunch time and staying until he makes his “mark.” He has become a well-know fixture. Certain people never fail to drop some money in his “cup.” Women who work in the area often buy him a sandwich and soda for lunch and drop it by.
His “mark” is his collection goal. It was disappointing to hear that it was a mere $10. Collections, oddly enough, come quicker in poor weather than when the sun was shining. Whether it comes as quickly as ten minutes or as long as a couple of hours, as soon as the mark is made he packs up and heads for the nearest liquor store for a cheap bottle of vodka and a pack of smokes.
He is enrolled in the state’s General Assistance Program where he receives $203 a month in cash benefits. He doesn’t eat free at Mary Jo Copeland’s Sharing and Caring Hands because her rules are too strict. Instead he uses his state provided EBT card (like a debit card) to buy cheap food at a local convenience store. I’m not sure how much the state puts in his EBT account every month but $150 is a pretty good estimate, I think. He also is a General Assistance Medical Care recipient, where medical care is all but free.
He is married and his wife is also a General Assistance enrollee with an EBT card. She, however, has a state subsidized apartment where he can’t officially live, “because the state won’t let me.” He sleeps there anyway. (Ambulance Driver has a pretty good idea on why the state won’t let him live with his wife. As a married couple they are only eligible for a single GA payment of $260, not two separate payments of $203).
His long term goal is to qualify for several Federal Programs due to his chemical dependency.
We had just enough time for him to tell me about the “Heroin Bitch” who has a spot was just a block down from him. She is the leader of a band of four that panhandle six to eight hours a day. He claims they earn $2000 a week, total, and spend it on street drugs.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that a bunch of dopers had more ambition than he had.
Since that encounter, I’ve often thought about this life style and the culture that enables this type of behavior. This guy is perfectly able to work but has chosen, instead, to live off the generosity of the state and those of us who supply the money for his booze.
I’m not done with this subject. The Neville St. Clair’s of this world fascinate me. Stay tuned.