I walked out of the Gas Company Tower and started down 5th Street. The sun was out, and it warmed my dragging legs and eyelids, both of which gravitated down the sloping sidewalk towards Olive. I liked being warm very much, but when I got to the corner I remembered that because it was warm, and because "Febru-any" was in its final days, the line at Subway would be much longer. I considered the additional time cut into my precious lunch hour unacceptable, so when the light changed I turned on Olive and decided I'd take my chances at Yorkshire Grill, where I knew I would be eating immediately at the expense of a few extra dollars.
Olive runs adjacent to Pershing Square, a mixed bag as far as city parks go, and one of the Downtown's largest gathering spots for homeless people. If you live or work near Pershing Square you are regularly encountering homeless people, some of whom you begin to recognize or even know by name. I wasn't halfway down the block before I was solicited by a middle aged guy in a beat up brown jacket and flip flops. His toenails were black and yellow and crusted over.
"Help me out with a dollar sir?", he grumbled, standing directly my walking path. I looked him in the eye for a moment, then back at the sidewalk, and gave my head a quick shake as I sidestepped him.
Everyone has their own ethics on giving money to panhandlers. Based on my own experiences and chatting with others, I've discovered there are essentially four character types when it comes to giving.
1) "The Rigid No": Some people never give money to panhandlers under any circumstances. Usually the reasoning behind this philosophy is that the potential giver doesn't know if there money is going to help or hurt the panhandler, whether the money will feed the panhandler's family or their possible addiction. However sometimes the "Rigid No" is more capitalistic. "I have a job. I work hard for my money. Why should I give it away to some lazy stranger who bothers me on the street?".
2) "The Food Giver": I knew a really generous girl in school who would keep peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in her car and give them out to the homeless. I've mostly just given food if I no longer want it; leftovers from lunch or a candy bar I wasn't going to eat. Giving food seems like a better, safer option than cash, but offering it sometimes exposes the sad truth "Rigid No" folks are so wary of. My cousin who lives in New York City once offered some leftovers to a panhandler. The guy asked him what type of food it was, and when he found out it was Mexican, he rudely sneered and shook his head "No". He also told me he once saw a good Samaritan offer to buy a panhandler some McDonald's; the man rejected her offer and continued to ask for money. On the surface the panhandler who rejects food seems ungrateful. "I'm handing you food. You must be hungry. How dare you reject it?"
3) "The Pushover"- These are the people who give money if only to be rid of an overly aggressive panhandler. When I was in high school our hang out spot was a movie theater in Bethesda, Maryland, outside of which was a particularly aggressive but well-liked panhandler; let's call him Frank. My friends and I all knew Frank for his sense of humor and colorful language, but I had never been approached by him. One evening we were headed into the theater when he came up to us pleading for money. My friends were able to deflect his requests wordlessly and continued walking, but I, taken in by his good nature, apologized and said "Sorry man, I only have twenties."
"That's fine" Frank replied, and he quickly pulled out a fat stack of cash from a Big Gulp cup he always carried around and started making change. I was surprised; Frank seemed like he was rolling in dough, and it made me want to keep my money.But I was fifteen, generally a naive kid and didn't know how to deal with this type of awkward situation. I ended up getting $10 change in return.
4) "The Customer"-Some approach the act of giving as if conducting a transaction. They appreciate the panhandler who has something to offer, even if whatever they are offering is undesirable. In fact, doesn't logic dictate that a panhandler who has something to give cease to be a panhandler?
Again this seems like a fair attitude. But like all different types of giving, there are moral gray areas here as well, mainly that the whole idea of "giving" is compromised when you demand something in return. People want a service, whether that's wiping off the hubcaps of a car (I gave the guy $5) or simply a chuckle from a particularly clever or humiliating sign (I've unfortunately done that as well). "Prove to me your worth" the attitude seems to project, as if I, simply by virtue of having innumerable beneficial circumstances in my life that have led me to a job and a home, am superior and require validation from someone that I don't even know.
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Most of us have days when, depending on our mood, we can be any one of this types. I'm sorry to say that I am primarily a "Customer". But I'm not in the market for manual labor or jokes. I want to hear music.
It's an old stereotype: the homeless musician. He or she leans against the side of a building or at the end of a subway car, strumming rusted guitar strings or banging on a bucket tom as an upside down hat collects falling change. I'm a musician myself so I'm naturally a sucker for that kind of thing. There's something about what it adds to the atmosphere, particularly in urban areas. I dig the melodrama that comes with spontaneous music. The homeless musician provides the diagetic soundtrack for the movie in which I star. Whatever I'm doing is immediately made more important than it actually is. So whenever I encounter a homeless musician, I always feel compelled to give whatever I can.
There's an incredible blues guitarist that performs outside of the Central Library sometimes. He has a plays a beat up Stratocaster plugged into a small portable amplifier. I sit at an outer table beside a Coffee Bean across the street and watch him as I eat my lunch. He's so focused and soulful, even with the commotion of the blue collar rush and midday traffic and nonsense screams of the homeless guy standing a few feet away. As he plays he closes his eyes and doesn't seem to notice any of it. I lose track of time and before long I realize that I'm running late getting back to the office. As I gather my things I take one last look at the impoverished virtuoso and think to myself "Jesus man. What the hell are you doing out here?"
HOMELESS MUSICIANS> EVERYTHIN
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