On February 2nd, I went, as
anyone else might, to the City Mission- without money or identification and dressed in worn-out clothes.
I was not poor or homeless. I wanted
to find out if, other than money, a
home, a little status, I was the same
as anyone I might meet there. Or
would they be different? Were they
there because they were different?
Did the charity of the Mission respond to the human need of the men
who came there?
It was cold outside. Snow and
ice were on the ground and a gale-force wind was blowing off Lake
Erie. By 7:30 p.m., I went inside.
In a booth,a guard prepared my
papers.
"Been here before?", he asked.
"No," I said.
"Do you have I.D.?"
"No,"l said,and was not pressed
to prove my identity.
"You can stay thirty days. The
first three are free; after that you pay
$5 a day or work two hours helping
around the place. If you're caught
with alcohol, you're out. You can
smoke in the fenced area. Chapel is
before lunch-after dinner. Morning
chapel before breakfast is optional."
Handing me a pass, he said, "You're in barracks B, bed 56."
Then, pointing to a large room, he
said, "Wait in the transients' lounge."
In the lounge, a black man said
about a sports figure, "See, they got
to have White Boy in there. Always
blonde blue eyes. They ain't gonna
put in a nigger."
A security guard entered. "First
night?" he said.
"Yes," I said.
"Follow me." We went down a
corridor to a window dispensary,
where I was handed a bag with a
toothbrush, shampoo and toothpaste
and told that it was a rule that every-one take a shower every night before
going to barracks. A rule mandating
cleanliness. I was undetermined
whether I would take a shower.
The shower room was crowded.
I waited for a towel and, looking
around, saw all humanity in one
man. He was old -but not in years -
beaten, sick, tired. I saw his age in
the way he was toweling himself,
slowly, for he had nowhere to go. For
a moment I didn't see myself in the
man, for I had somewhere to go. I
was different. I will take a shower. I
thought.
After awhile, the supervisor
shouted, "There are no more towels.
If you don't have a towel, don't take
a shower."
I headed toward the barraks. A
thin man named Esrom, in pajamas,
asked, "Did you take a shower?"
"No," I said. "No towels."
"All right. Go to barracks!" Inside, there were 75 beds, most of
them filled. Esrom came in behind
me. "Who didn't take a shower?" he
shouted. Looking at me, he said, "You better hit the shower, big man,
cause the fungus is among us."
I looked. His eyes were twinkling. He turned and marched out of
the barracks.
On the other side. some men
were teasing another. They messed
up his bed. He took a board from
under it and chased them.
While he was gone, another
man got under the bed to scare him.
One black man shouted, "Ain't no
way I'm gettin' under the bed of no
245 pound nigger!"
When the man came back, he
shouted, "Get out from under my
bed!"
The man under the bed, got out,
red-faced. Everyone laughed.
In the next bed, Eddie was sorting out papers. He shouted to every-one, "I got two landlord statements.
Sellin' one. You know how hard
these are to get? All you need is a
phony name and address. Then you
get loot from the welfare."
"Hey, I'm good at forgery,"
Lenny said.
"Rock?" one man offered.
Someone shouted, "Who's got
rock?" Someone said, "Where?"
"No, loot!" Eddie said. The
man shook his head and sat on his
bunk.Eddie looked all around. There
were no takers.
Suddenly the door swung open.
"Five-o," someone shouted. People
eating hid their food. Smokers put
out their cigarettes. Everyone looked
up. In came Esrom, shouting, "I'm
taking the names of everyone who
didn't take a shower."
Someone said, "Who are you?"
"The National Guard," Esrom
said, "That's who." Nobody paid
any attention to him.
"I'm going to tell my supervisor." He said, and left.
In the corner, eleven men in
groups of two and three were inhaling tobacco, which they smoked like
hemp. One man would hold his
breath and pass the cigarette to the
next, not letting it burn idly a moment. Lenny watched the door, in
case a supervisor were to come. I
stood by him.
"You hiding out?" he asked.
"No," I said.
"No problem. Then after thirty
days," he said. "If you take the Bible
class, you can stay another thirty. It
takes 45 days to get on welfare, so if
you plan it, you'll be okay. You get
$150 a month and $150 in food
stamps. You can sell the food stamps
for $80."
Joram joined us. Lenny said,"If
you got any money man, keep it hid.
It's not that the guys are bad, they're
good guys, really..."
Joram said, "I love you, my
brother but keep it covered. I'llsteal
from you or anyone else - nothing
personal - strictly business."
There was a brotherhood among
them, like everywhere. Joram was
an honest man and thief.
At 10p.m., Lenny cried, "Five-o! " and everyone put out their cigarettes. A supervisor came and ordered everyone to bed. He made his
rounds, then said to one, "If you
don't want to get stuck in Buffalo,
don't drink the water. I drank it
once 17 years ago and here I am. "He
shut the lights and left.
Some of the men were asleep,
others were trying to sleep. Some
were sitting up, getting up and walking around in the dark, going in and
out to the restroom and back. A few
were talking.
"In New York, it's different,"
one black man said. "The shelter I
stayed at was a military armory."
"What's it like?" someone
asked.
"Two thousand niggers, back
to back, eating breakfast - that's
what it is," the black man said.
"Two thousand? It must take a
long time to finish breakfast"
"No, they get you in and out."
A short man came in.
"The king is here," he shouted
in the dark.
"What's the king's name?"
someone asked.
"Sweet Daddy," the king said.
"Ninja Turtle," someone said.
"You don't know who you're
talking to," the king shouted.
"Hey man, why don't you just
be quiet? I'm trying to get some
sleep," someone else said.
"Ain't nobody gonna sleep tonight," the king roared.
"Rock star?" one man asked.
"Superstar," the king replied.
"Your song's been played out,"
Eddie said. "Dude, you're a has-been. If you weren't, you wouldn't
be in our mis' when that clock strikes
twelve!"
The king went to his bed and
pulled the covers up over his head.
It was silent a moment.
"I went to the city," a man said.
"Copped four ounces. No way was I
going to get caught carrying that, so
I sent it 'spresso. Picked it up -
Buffalo Federal Express, cut it up
and sold it."
"Four ounces?" someone said.
"You can put that in a Cup 'o' Soup."
Another said, "I'm not going to
drive anymore for those whiteys.
That's how I wound up here. My
unemployment ran out. I'm going to
get my own rig."
It grew late, the conversation
trailed off. There were a number of
men still taking turns in the back
sharing cigarettes. Lenny was watching the door.
"My grandmother is 85 years
old, a drug addict all her life," he said
to someone.
"How do you know?"
"I smoked pot with her."
He paused a moment and added, "You know, it took me to come here
to realize how bad I was. Before this,
I went to church two times in my
whole life, now I go three times a
day."
By 2:30a.m., the barracks were
quiet - except for sounds of snoring,
sniffing and quiet coughing. Even
the smokers were in bed. An old
man who said he had come here
because he had been burned out of
his apartment was the last smoker to
be finished. At 2:30, he was in bed.
All were in bed.
I laid down in bed 56 in a room
with 70 other men in bunks and
thought about the place and the men.
I wasn't sure if I was different. Are
we really all one soul looking from
different perspectives? Yet I was
different from these, here, for I had
resources to leave a mission and go
where I will. I was here because I
wanted to be here; but then, wasn't
everyone here because they wanted
to be here, and were glad to be here?
But for the grace of God would I be
here thinking I had no choice and no
way out? No, I was different, I
thought, ambitious, successful. If I
was forced by circumstances to be
here, I would lift myself up, by my
own exertion. What then? So I
thought and by degrees I grew tired
and fell asleep and absolved myself
of my personality and, like all the
others who sleep the same every
night, I was non-different.
At 6:30 a.m. a supervisor came
and turned on the lights. I woke up.
"Hey guys," the supervisor
shouted, "You know what this is?"
No one answered. "Sheet day! "he
said, "Now every-one get up and put
them in the cart as I go by."
All the men got their sheets,
except Eddie, who stayed in bed, in
between the sheets, with covers
pulled over his head.
When the supervisor came, he
said, "Wake up, Alfalfa."
Eddie threw the covers back.
"Who you calling Alfalfa?" "You," the supervisor said.
Eddie got up in slow motion,
slowly pulled his sheets off, then in,
super-slow motion, handed in his
sheets.
After depositing mine, I left the
barracks. Esrom and Lenny were
nearby. Esrom said, "You know last
night, I fooled some people into
believing I was a supervisor."
"You have the voice," I said.
Esrom turned to Lenny, "Did
you hear what he said?
He said I have the voice!" Lenny nodded.
Another man looked at me. I
said, "Hi."
He said, "Not yet," then added, "You said, 'High?' I said, 'not yet."'
In the lounge, 40 men were
seated, waiting for breakfast, watching TV, reading The News or sleeping. The pastor came in, the supervisor shut the television off.
The pastor said, "I'm going to
call the names of all the men I want
to see after chapel. When your name
gets called, call out so I can see you...
Joseph Sadoc..."
A man said, "yo."
The pastor looked, but couldn't
see the man who had spoken. "Joseph Sadoc?"
"I'm here, now you find me,"
Joseph said.
The pastor saw him and smiled.
"Then you are here."
He called out other names, including mine, then called the lambs
to chapel. Morning chapel was optional. Only half the men got up and
followed the pastor. The other half
stood, sat, or slept, in their chairs in
the lounge, or stood in the fenced
area enjoying a smoke. I followed
the pastor.
In chapel, a preacher read.
Another sang, "Thanks to Calvary, I
don't go there anymore..." Another
pastor said a word prayer and I
prayed with the men for the welfare
of the world and the men in the
chapel.
After chapel, we walked down
the corridor to the dining hall. One
get to eat breakfast first. Others who
don't, have to wait in the lounge
until we're seated. See the material
benefit of going to chapel?"
In the dining hall, the food was
served cafeteria-style. There were
eggs, home fries, bananas, cake and
coffee. I was hungry. I took food
and, with my plate in hand, passed
the table reserved for pastors, sat
with the other men, and ate like
pastor and transient alike. An elderly man at my table had more food
than anybody.
"Will you eat all that?" a young
man asked.
"I only take what I'm going to
eat," the elder said. "I like to see an
old man eat," the younger said.
After breakfast, the pastor asked
me to follow him to an office just
outside the dining hall. With the
door open, he asked me questions
and filled out a form.
Then he asked, "Would you like
to accept Jesus?"
"Yes," I said.
He got up and shut the door. He
said a prayer, and I repeated it. I
prayed with him sincerely.
"The angels are rejoicing in
Heaven over this," the pastor said.
Then he gave me a Bible, and I
touched it to my head. I stood up and
went down the corridor. The pastor
called in the next transient.
At the pastor's behest, I went to
the basement where there was used
clothing. I selected an outfit that took
me out of homeless status to the level
of respectable lower-middle class.
Even though they were not as good
as clothes I had at home, I wore
them.
As I went back upstairs, it occurred to me that being here was not
a means to earn a way out.
"Where can I go to make some
money?" I asked a transient.
He said a temporary agency
would put me to work for $5 an hour.
"You could have cash in your
pockets in a week to 10 days," he
said.
I thought, a man can work for
money if he wants. That must be a
universal truth. One can work if one
is determined to work. Somewhere,
somehow he can work and get compensation - something, anything.
He can raise himself by his own
exertion. Had some of these men
here forgotten this? Were they too
feeble? Most of the men were not.
They only needed to be reminded.
I passed a pay phone used by a
man. I heard him say, "This is
Solomon Roboam, Jr. calling collect
for Solomon Roboam, Sr. ... Hey
Pops, sorry to bother you. Just calling to let you know I'm okay. I'm in
the City Mission."
A new transient coming in
looked as though he was here be-
cause he had to be. I realized that I
was a transient like he, and had, a
night before, a need to be here. Not
poverty or homelessness like most,
but in spirit. Was I different in
degree but not in kind?
I left with new clothes, well-fed,
with a Bible in my hand and walked
out the door. A lady coming in
brushed aside me.
"Sorry, sir," she said.
With new clothes, she called me
sir. I was no longer a transient to the
casual observer. I was a just a man.
The weather was much better
than it was the night before. The
morning sun was shining brightly.
