Some cities call it panhandling, but Real Change calls it working

Bundled in layers to fend off chills, Ron Morgan snagged a section of coveted downtown Seattle sidewalk space and began hawking his only product.

"Real Change," he called out, holding up the weekly street newspaper by that name. Homeless and low-income people push it on street corners, pocketing 65 cents per copy.

"I detest panhandlers. I am not panhandling. I'm working," said Morgan, who, after an injury left him disabled, has been selling copies of Real Change for three years. "It's a good paper. People like it. I'm not begging, OK?"

Some cities disagree.

Armed with broad anti-panhandling ordinances, they have begun prohibiting street vending of all sorts — including in some communities where the publication geared toward homeless issues is sold on the street.

Frustrated by people aggressively asking for handouts, cities from Boston to Honolulu have beefed up anti-panhandling ordinances and enforcement.

Last year, Tacoma banned all forms of soliciting from dusk to dawn. It prohibits asking for handouts within 15 feet of many common areas: bus stops, automated teller machines, public pay phones, self-service car washes and gas pumps. Maximum penalties are 90 days in jail and $1,000 in fines.

Since the strengthened ordinance was adopted in April, police say they mostly have been issuing warnings; city officials say it has brought about a notable decline in panhandling.

Federal Way is considering a similar law.

As Real Change, a nonprofit activist publication based in Seattle, expands, its distribution model has come up against anti-panhandling rules in some surrounding cities. Timothy Harris, executive director of Real Change, said that one of its vendors in Tacoma and one in Auburn who were selling the paper were told by police to stop. Neither was arrested.

Serving greater good?

The ordinance on regulation of solicitation in Tacoma draws no distinction among a vagabond beggar, Salvation Army bell ringer, Girl Scout cookie seller or newspaper vendor, said Kim Gerhardt, Tacoma's assistant city attorney who drafted the rule.

"The ordinance is absolutely blind," Gerhardt said. "If it's in a public place, it would be subject to the ordinance."

Bell ringers and Girl Scouts typically secure permission from private-property owners for their outdoor marketing. Others — whether they sell flowers or car washes or newspapers — can apply for permits, Gerhardt said.

"We were particularly targeting areas where it was reasonable to assume people felt intimidated," Gerhardt said.

Curtailing panhandling serves the "greater good," said David Curry, Tacoma Rescue Mission director and City Council candidate. Panhandling provides money for drugs and should be discouraged, he said.

Street-newspaper advocates, however, say that selling newspapers on the street gives a second chance to severely poor people who otherwise might resort to begging.

Founded in 1994, Real Change has a circulation of 12,000. Last year, hundreds of people took a turn selling the paper but about 150 were regulars, said Danina Garcia, vendor-outreach coordinator. "It's not an easy job," she said. Vendors buy the paper for 35 cents from the publisher and sell copies on the street for $1, keeping the difference.

A little more than half the vendors are homeless; many of the rest were formerly homeless.

Inside the ad-supported paper, the editorial mix challenges stereotypes about low-income people, living in shelters, homelessness and poverty. One recent story examined what happens to homeless people's belongings when they are arrested. One feature logs police reports involving street people.

Vendors wear photo ID badges and must agree to a code of conduct.

Challenging the law

Harris of Real Change describes anti-panhandling laws as a slippery slope. "We definitely want to challenge it in Tacoma. No question," he said. He did not specify what steps he might take and has not filed a lawsuit.

If it's left unchallenged, Harris expects other cities will enforce similar restrictions.

"We've seen this all over," Harris said. "As downtown living gets more popular, cities become centers of affluence for people who can afford them. There's a condo boom that goes along with it, then there's a crackdown on visible poverty.

"Visible poverty makes people very nervous," he said.

Tacoma's ordinance has answered the complaints of downtown business people who were tired of aggressive pleading from transients, said Mark Fulghum, Tacoma Police spokesman. Since the ordinance went into effect, police have logged fewer complaints about aggressive panhandling. "We're seeing less of it," he said.

A Seattle ordinance forbids "aggressive panhandling," and a downtown business group has distributed pamphlets advising people not to give panhandlers money.

Outside a popular downtown Seattle bakery, Gordon Mars clutched his copies of the paper on a slow day.

"Sales were better in December," he said. "I made at least $100 a day. Saved some money."

Mars said his legs were "banged up" on a North Pacific fishing boat. He lives in low-income housing and sells Real Change five days a week, two or three hours a day.

"We're vendors. We're not panhandlers," he said. "We're working."