The homeless may not have a place to live, but they and their advocates turned City Hall into a part-time residence this year as they fought against a wave of homeless restrictions.
They lost every one of the battles — the latest on Wednesday when commissioners put limits on public outdoor feedings — but they remain undeterred.
“I don’t intend to stop feeding the homeless,” said Arnold Abbott, whose Love Thy Neighbor group has been feeding the homeless for 23 years. “That’s man’s inhumanity to man and I’m not going to be part of that.”
Commissioners had heard years of complaints about homeless people hitting up drivers for money, defecating on sidewalks in front of stores, camping out in city parks and giving the downtown a bad image.
Commissioners cited public health and safety concerns when they made it illegal for anyone to solicit at the city’s busiest intersections, to sleep on public property downtown and to store belongings on public property. They strengthened laws already in place about defecating in public.
Mayor Jack Seiler said many of the advocates come in from western suburbs and go back to homes where they don’t have to deal with the issues caused by a large homeless population. The city has supported a variety of homeless programs, but also has a duty to its residents, he said.
“This chronic homeless population that doesn’t want assistance and doesn’t want help, I don’t know what we can do for them,” Seiler said.
The latest law, which takes effect Oct. 31, limits where outdoor feeding sites can be located, requires the permission of property owners and says the groups have to provide portable toilets.
The 90-year-old Abbott has won past legal battles against the city to allow public feedings on the beach. He said he will go back to court and get an injunction against the city if necessary.
Love Thy Neighbor and other groups — including Food Not Bombs and the Peanut Butter & Jelly Project — showed their disdain for the commission’s action by holding a free dinner the night of the vote in the City Hall plaza outside the commission chambers.
About 80 people, many of them homeless, got pizza, spaghetti, vegetables, beans and franks and rice dished out by volunteers.
Police stood in clumps nearby and patrolled on horses, but the gathering was peaceful. Volunteers held up signs such as “No Homeless Hate Laws” and “Spread Love Not Restrictions.”
Several dozen sign-holders stood in front of the glass wall of the commission chambers and shouted protest chants for hours — loud enough to make it hard for people inside the meeting to hear the agenda items being discussed.
The protesters had plenty of time to kill. Seiler, who referred to the protesters as the “radical element,” guaranteed the feeding restrictions would be the last item the commission considered. The issue did not come up until 2 a.m.
“They’re basically trying to shut us down,” said Nathan Pim of Food Not Bombs, who has spoken numerous times at previous meetings.
One protester was shocked about a meeting he had attended earlier in the month.
“At that meeting, they literally spent more time talking about giving more water rights to boat slips for rich people than they did talking about taking [food] away from homeless people,” said Dean Bairaktiras, who is homeless.
Many of the regulars complain commissioners don’t even hide their disinterest in what they have to say. That’s why they got a kick out of Ray Cox, a homeless man who disrupted several recent commission meetings by signing up to speak on every agenda item, adding hours to the meetings and forcing commissioners to sit and listen.
When their time came on Wednesday, dozens of the protesters were still around. They quoted Scripture, warned of the commission’s eternal damnation, lamented the lack of humanity and raged against the rule of elites.
“When did ‘E Pluribus Unum’ become ‘I’ve got mine so the heck with you’?'” asked Jimmie Singleton.
Another homeless man summed up why he thought the law would ultimately fail.
“You’re going to feed me on the corner or you’re going to feed me in jail,” John Kipling Guyton said. “We’re hungry. We’re going to eat. That’s human survival.”
lbarszewski@tribpub.com or 954-356-4556
