DNC tourists can’t spare a dime
Billy Magner knew the only way to silence the lunchtime siren blaring inside him was to return to panhandling in front of the
Yet ever since the Democratic National Convention hit town, Magner said, his worn-out cup has hardly runneth over with the coins of his realm: spare change. More than two hours into bumming last week, he showed only $2, well off his usual $5-an-hour take.
''I don't [care] whether they're Democrat or Republican," said the 56-year-old homeless veteran who wore a Kerry-Edwards sticker. ''They're tourists, and it's like, 'Hey, stay away from that guy.' "
That was the view from the city's doorways and alleys: While small businesses lamented their losses during DNC week, Boston's self-employed beggars say they've felt the pinch, too.
''The tourists say: 'Take care. Good luck,' " said one of Magner's brothers in alms, a 47-year-old self-described paranoid schizophrenic who gave his name as David Gore.
They offered him greetings but not greenbacks for cigarettes, soda, and a bag of chips. ''Very bad," said Gore, who was sprawled out with $1.25 in collections in a doorway on Friend Street, across from the FleetCenter, home of the DNC.
Normally, this is a tin-panhandle-alley of street people. Yet with four silver crosses and a pink peace sign dangling from his neck, Gore casts a lonely figure, the only one in sight for blocks near the convention hall. Thomas Koffour, a clerk at the
The city said it did not broom away the homeless. There were no ''sweeps," said Jim Greene, acting director of the city's Emergency Shelter Commission. Rather, Greene said, workers got the word out to the Hub's homeless that with thousands of visitors descending on the Fleet and elsewhere, they could stay at several shelters offering hours expanded to include the daytime.
Supplying a haven for those distressed by police squadrons and such, the Boston Health Care for the Homeless Program welcomed 25 street people last week into the Barbara McInnis House, a facility it usually restricts to homeless medical patients who require monitoring.
As many street people still gathered at their usual spots downtown, a 51-year-old homeless man who gave his name as Dale Marcia said he had watched from his milk crate near Park Street last week as the sidewalks emptied of their usual flow. The way he and others saw it, the solid parade of regular donors now avoiding the city was replaced by a showy float of conventioneers who have bleeding hearts but chintzy souls.
After nearly six hours of panhandling, Marcia had received only about $7; he usually makes around $30. For him, that means one meal instead of three and scrounging the sidewalk for discarded cigarette butts that he can roll into his own, rather than buying a pack.
Gilbert Farley, 48, the homeless town crier of Boston Common, found his panhandling cup drier than ever. So he added a new item to his regular announcements. After rattling off the weather and the Red Sox score, he exhorted passersby: ''We need housing for the homeless. We need jobs for the homeless. Tell the Democrats."
