GoPackGo
05-19-2008, 01:06 PM
I loved living in Madison but it taught me a life lesson on giving handouts. I'm very suspicious and particular with whom I give donations to. I look at panhandlers and people on welfare in the same light. Giving free money to these people kills any motivation they might have had to improve their life on their own. The Wisconsin State Journel has written a great article on this problem.
http://www.madison.com/wsj/home/local/286776
Panhandling as a lifestyle
DOUG ERICKSON
608-252-6149
derickson@madison.com
At the base of a State Street lamppost, beneath a banner that says "Celebrate Madison," Darrell Regulus works the only job he knows.
He calls it "shaking the cup." Others call it panhandling or begging for money.
"How're you doing, sir?" he says to a middle-aged man walking by. "Can you help me out?"
Nothing.
Then Robert Weiss, 19, a UW-Madison freshman, gives him $5. Regulus' mood improves — if he can get to $10, a motel owner near the Beltline will rent him a room for the night, he says.
Panhandling, a tradition in Madison, picks up every spring as the weather warms, ushering in a new round of awkward social situations. Should you give the person money? Should you feel guilty if you don't?
This year, there's added tension. Two unsolved slayings in the central city in the last four months — 31-year-old Joel Marino in January and 21-year-old Brittany
Zimmermann in April — have alarmed residents. Police have not identified a suspect or motive in either case, though in the Zimmermann investigation, panhandlers and transients known to frequent Zimmermann's Downtown neighborhood were interviewed and several were taken into custody.
Madison Police Lt. Joe Balles said he believes all but three of those arrested have been released. One remains in jail on an immigration hold, another had his probation revoked and the third is being held because he allegedly fought with guards. Balles said none has been called a person of interest in the murder.
Even before the murders, feelings toward panhandlers had hardened. Many Downtown residents and business owners say panhandling escalated last summer, not so much in the tightly monitored State Street area but around the Capitol and in the Bassett neighborhood south of State Street.
Some residents say they had accepted panhandling in small doses as part of the urban landscape but now are frustrated by persistent, sometimes aggressive requests for money from a core group of 20 to 30 chronic panhandlers who seem to have embraced the approach as a lifestyle.
"We tolerate a certain amount of panhandling out of sympathy or the realization that you really can't keep people from asking for money, but I think it's reached a critical mass," said Ike Boukahil, 23, an energy market analyst who manages a 40-unit apartment complex in the Bassett neighborhood where he lives. "It has become just part of the regular day to get hit up for money."
Some fed-up business owners are trying new tactics to discourage panhandlers as customers. A few weeks ago, Riley's Wines of the World and Badger Liquor, two stores in the State Street area owned by the same person, began a new policy in which they will sell merchandise to the same person no more than twice in one day between the two stores.
The stores also upped the price of their mini-liquor bottles from 99 cents to $1.99 and capped the use of coins to 20 pennies or $3 in change.
"It's a matter of panhandlers being super-aggressive," said Andy Beaulieu, manager of Riley's. "They swear at people, they go up to cars, they litter, they intimidate our customers. We're sick of it."
While being interviewed, Beaulieu watched as a panhandler began urinating by the store's entrance. A clerk shooed him away.
A distinct population
Social service providers say there is a difference between the homeless population and the panhandling population. Only a tiny minority of the city's homeless population panhandles, and some panhandlers are not homeless, said Steven Schooler, executive director of Porchlight Inc., a major provider of homeless services.
"They are very, very distinct groups," he said, adding that some of the city's chronic panhandlers have been at it for 10 to 15 years and don't seek the services of Porchlight.
For years, State Street, the pedestrian mall linking the Capitol to the UW-Madison campus, has been the gold coast for panhandling, and that's still the case. But three years ago, the City Council clamped down, delineating where panhandlers can stand in relation to business entrances, sidewalk cafes, street intersections and automatic teller machines. (Street musicians are exempt.)
The rules apply citywide, but they've had the most effect on State Street. There are now only two legal panhandling sites there, and one of those is closed this summer due to street construction. That leaves the lamppost at Peace Park, 452 State St.
This is where Regulus and others ply their trade. Like most social settings, it is governed by unwritten rules. Only one person panhandles at a time because pedestrians will avoid a gantlet of cups. No one gets more than an hour at a time. The next in line queue up on a park bench.
"We have to have rules or everyone would run wild," said Jeff Joe, 54, a Peace Park regular.
If you spend time at the park, you will learn this: Panhandlers average $10 to $15 an hour; the most lucrative time is during state sports tournaments, when high school students from small towns flood the strip; older people are less generous; college students are where the money's at.
"They want to make a difference, they want to change the world," Joe said.
Getting innovative
Off State Street, the panhandling gets more creative. The Bassett neighborhood has been particularly hard hit — it's not uncommon to be stopped near Capitol Centre Foods, the Kelley Williamson Mobil station and the Badger Bus depot.
One woman, known as "the soup lady," asks for just enough to buy a bowl of chowder. She's been working the area for more than 10 years. Another man claims to be raising money for a homeless shelter.
"It's a lie. He comes in here and dumps his bucket on the counter and spends it on alcohol," said Roshan Mahendran, a manager of Sadhana Wine Shop, 41 S. Bassett St.
Treena Hoffman, co-owner of Electric Earth Cafe, 546 W. Washington Ave., said her business called police almost daily last summer for problem panhandlers at its sidewalk cafe.
"They'll sit right down at a table and start talking to people and won't leave," she said. "I've had them start screaming at people and calling them names. Some have aggressively grabbed at female joggers going by."
Madison Police Officer Meredith York, who has patrolled State Street for 10 years, said panhandlers find the Bassett neighborhood appealing for several reasons. The densely populated area has multiple liquor stores, a bus depot, lots of college students, less police coverage and numerous places to hide, such as alleys and laundromats. It also is close to Brittingham Park, a popular hangout for transients.
Attempts to interview panhandlers working the Bassett neighborhood were rebuffed. Several said they would talk only if paid for their time.
"You can't give me any money?" said Bruce Moffett, 53, turning angry. "I'm through talking to you."
Several residents said they think the number of panhandlers in the Bassett area has declined following Zimmermann's murder and a greater police presence. Others say they haven't yet seen a major problem.
"There are a couple of more aggressive people panhandling, but it definitely isn't as much as people think," said Jo Chern, owner of Jo's Tazzina Cafe, 45 S. Bassett St. "I've spent enough time in big cities to know that the panhandling here is so minor and not aggressive."
'Benefit of the doubt'
Weiss, the UW-Madison freshman who gave Regulus $5, said he hopes the money buys something constructive. "My philosophy is to give them the benefit of the doubt," he said.
Seth Bishop, 15, of Madison, dropped 75 cents he earned babysitting into a cup. "Usually when I see someone panhandling, I figure they're down on their luck."
Regulus, 51, said that's definitely the case with him — he's been down on his luck for 33 years. Homeless since 18, Regulus said he can't stand on his feet very long due to diabetes. He said his last full-time job was more than a decade ago at a Country Kitchen restaurant.
Regulus said he's panhandled on State Street for about five years. Asked what he does with the money, he said, "I'm not going to lie and say I'm not a boozer. I'm a boozer, but I need to eat, too."
People need to ease up on their animosity toward panhandlers, Regulus said. "The average homeless person just wants a job, a place to live and a chance to get on his feet."
That's a hard sell for some of the people who know the panhandlers.
"They will profess that they want assistance, but when offered it, the follow-through is not good," said York, the State Street officer.
Officer Jean Papalia, who patrols the Bassett neighborhood as part of her beat, ticks off a long list of social services available locally, including Luke House, the Salvation Army, Port St. Vincent and the Mental Health Center of Dane County. "These people are doing wonderful things, so I just have a hard time believing that someone wanting to change his life can't catch a break," she said.
She quickly adds that alcoholism and mental illness often complicate the equation, making it difficult for some panhandlers to change their lives. Yet she's also seen many who resist all help, she said.
"They've checked out," she said. "They don't want to own property, they don't want to get up in the morning and go to a job."
Most also have "enormous" criminal histories, Papalia said. "They're not benign, but that doesn't mean they're going to jump out and attack you," she said.
Downtown Ald. Mike Verveer, a Dane County assistant district attorney, said he recalls only a few police reports over several years in which panhandlers victimized random pedestrians. "There is a small percentage that can be violent under the influence of alcohol or drugs," he said.
Papalia said she's as perplexed about what to do as everyone else.
"The public asks me to do something, but what? Arrest them? The public gets mad if I do that. Take them to treatment? They've failed out of it three times."
Back on State Street, Regulus gets $1 from an older man who stops briefly to chat.
"That was nice of him," Regulus says after the man ambles on. "That's all I'm asking for, just a little piece of the American pie."
http://www.madison.com/wsj/home/local/286776
Panhandling as a lifestyle
DOUG ERICKSON
608-252-6149
derickson@madison.com
At the base of a State Street lamppost, beneath a banner that says "Celebrate Madison," Darrell Regulus works the only job he knows.
He calls it "shaking the cup." Others call it panhandling or begging for money.
"How're you doing, sir?" he says to a middle-aged man walking by. "Can you help me out?"
Nothing.
Then Robert Weiss, 19, a UW-Madison freshman, gives him $5. Regulus' mood improves — if he can get to $10, a motel owner near the Beltline will rent him a room for the night, he says.
Panhandling, a tradition in Madison, picks up every spring as the weather warms, ushering in a new round of awkward social situations. Should you give the person money? Should you feel guilty if you don't?
This year, there's added tension. Two unsolved slayings in the central city in the last four months — 31-year-old Joel Marino in January and 21-year-old Brittany
Zimmermann in April — have alarmed residents. Police have not identified a suspect or motive in either case, though in the Zimmermann investigation, panhandlers and transients known to frequent Zimmermann's Downtown neighborhood were interviewed and several were taken into custody.
Madison Police Lt. Joe Balles said he believes all but three of those arrested have been released. One remains in jail on an immigration hold, another had his probation revoked and the third is being held because he allegedly fought with guards. Balles said none has been called a person of interest in the murder.
Even before the murders, feelings toward panhandlers had hardened. Many Downtown residents and business owners say panhandling escalated last summer, not so much in the tightly monitored State Street area but around the Capitol and in the Bassett neighborhood south of State Street.
Some residents say they had accepted panhandling in small doses as part of the urban landscape but now are frustrated by persistent, sometimes aggressive requests for money from a core group of 20 to 30 chronic panhandlers who seem to have embraced the approach as a lifestyle.
"We tolerate a certain amount of panhandling out of sympathy or the realization that you really can't keep people from asking for money, but I think it's reached a critical mass," said Ike Boukahil, 23, an energy market analyst who manages a 40-unit apartment complex in the Bassett neighborhood where he lives. "It has become just part of the regular day to get hit up for money."
Some fed-up business owners are trying new tactics to discourage panhandlers as customers. A few weeks ago, Riley's Wines of the World and Badger Liquor, two stores in the State Street area owned by the same person, began a new policy in which they will sell merchandise to the same person no more than twice in one day between the two stores.
The stores also upped the price of their mini-liquor bottles from 99 cents to $1.99 and capped the use of coins to 20 pennies or $3 in change.
"It's a matter of panhandlers being super-aggressive," said Andy Beaulieu, manager of Riley's. "They swear at people, they go up to cars, they litter, they intimidate our customers. We're sick of it."
While being interviewed, Beaulieu watched as a panhandler began urinating by the store's entrance. A clerk shooed him away.
A distinct population
Social service providers say there is a difference between the homeless population and the panhandling population. Only a tiny minority of the city's homeless population panhandles, and some panhandlers are not homeless, said Steven Schooler, executive director of Porchlight Inc., a major provider of homeless services.
"They are very, very distinct groups," he said, adding that some of the city's chronic panhandlers have been at it for 10 to 15 years and don't seek the services of Porchlight.
For years, State Street, the pedestrian mall linking the Capitol to the UW-Madison campus, has been the gold coast for panhandling, and that's still the case. But three years ago, the City Council clamped down, delineating where panhandlers can stand in relation to business entrances, sidewalk cafes, street intersections and automatic teller machines. (Street musicians are exempt.)
The rules apply citywide, but they've had the most effect on State Street. There are now only two legal panhandling sites there, and one of those is closed this summer due to street construction. That leaves the lamppost at Peace Park, 452 State St.
This is where Regulus and others ply their trade. Like most social settings, it is governed by unwritten rules. Only one person panhandles at a time because pedestrians will avoid a gantlet of cups. No one gets more than an hour at a time. The next in line queue up on a park bench.
"We have to have rules or everyone would run wild," said Jeff Joe, 54, a Peace Park regular.
If you spend time at the park, you will learn this: Panhandlers average $10 to $15 an hour; the most lucrative time is during state sports tournaments, when high school students from small towns flood the strip; older people are less generous; college students are where the money's at.
"They want to make a difference, they want to change the world," Joe said.
Getting innovative
Off State Street, the panhandling gets more creative. The Bassett neighborhood has been particularly hard hit — it's not uncommon to be stopped near Capitol Centre Foods, the Kelley Williamson Mobil station and the Badger Bus depot.
One woman, known as "the soup lady," asks for just enough to buy a bowl of chowder. She's been working the area for more than 10 years. Another man claims to be raising money for a homeless shelter.
"It's a lie. He comes in here and dumps his bucket on the counter and spends it on alcohol," said Roshan Mahendran, a manager of Sadhana Wine Shop, 41 S. Bassett St.
Treena Hoffman, co-owner of Electric Earth Cafe, 546 W. Washington Ave., said her business called police almost daily last summer for problem panhandlers at its sidewalk cafe.
"They'll sit right down at a table and start talking to people and won't leave," she said. "I've had them start screaming at people and calling them names. Some have aggressively grabbed at female joggers going by."
Madison Police Officer Meredith York, who has patrolled State Street for 10 years, said panhandlers find the Bassett neighborhood appealing for several reasons. The densely populated area has multiple liquor stores, a bus depot, lots of college students, less police coverage and numerous places to hide, such as alleys and laundromats. It also is close to Brittingham Park, a popular hangout for transients.
Attempts to interview panhandlers working the Bassett neighborhood were rebuffed. Several said they would talk only if paid for their time.
"You can't give me any money?" said Bruce Moffett, 53, turning angry. "I'm through talking to you."
Several residents said they think the number of panhandlers in the Bassett area has declined following Zimmermann's murder and a greater police presence. Others say they haven't yet seen a major problem.
"There are a couple of more aggressive people panhandling, but it definitely isn't as much as people think," said Jo Chern, owner of Jo's Tazzina Cafe, 45 S. Bassett St. "I've spent enough time in big cities to know that the panhandling here is so minor and not aggressive."
'Benefit of the doubt'
Weiss, the UW-Madison freshman who gave Regulus $5, said he hopes the money buys something constructive. "My philosophy is to give them the benefit of the doubt," he said.
Seth Bishop, 15, of Madison, dropped 75 cents he earned babysitting into a cup. "Usually when I see someone panhandling, I figure they're down on their luck."
Regulus, 51, said that's definitely the case with him — he's been down on his luck for 33 years. Homeless since 18, Regulus said he can't stand on his feet very long due to diabetes. He said his last full-time job was more than a decade ago at a Country Kitchen restaurant.
Regulus said he's panhandled on State Street for about five years. Asked what he does with the money, he said, "I'm not going to lie and say I'm not a boozer. I'm a boozer, but I need to eat, too."
People need to ease up on their animosity toward panhandlers, Regulus said. "The average homeless person just wants a job, a place to live and a chance to get on his feet."
That's a hard sell for some of the people who know the panhandlers.
"They will profess that they want assistance, but when offered it, the follow-through is not good," said York, the State Street officer.
Officer Jean Papalia, who patrols the Bassett neighborhood as part of her beat, ticks off a long list of social services available locally, including Luke House, the Salvation Army, Port St. Vincent and the Mental Health Center of Dane County. "These people are doing wonderful things, so I just have a hard time believing that someone wanting to change his life can't catch a break," she said.
She quickly adds that alcoholism and mental illness often complicate the equation, making it difficult for some panhandlers to change their lives. Yet she's also seen many who resist all help, she said.
"They've checked out," she said. "They don't want to own property, they don't want to get up in the morning and go to a job."
Most also have "enormous" criminal histories, Papalia said. "They're not benign, but that doesn't mean they're going to jump out and attack you," she said.
Downtown Ald. Mike Verveer, a Dane County assistant district attorney, said he recalls only a few police reports over several years in which panhandlers victimized random pedestrians. "There is a small percentage that can be violent under the influence of alcohol or drugs," he said.
Papalia said she's as perplexed about what to do as everyone else.
"The public asks me to do something, but what? Arrest them? The public gets mad if I do that. Take them to treatment? They've failed out of it three times."
Back on State Street, Regulus gets $1 from an older man who stops briefly to chat.
"That was nice of him," Regulus says after the man ambles on. "That's all I'm asking for, just a little piece of the American pie."