Retired carpenter offers hot soup, warm smile to homeless on Seattle's Capitol Hill

Lining up Sunday for steaming bowls of free chicken soup, Bill Pond's customers sensed this stranger with the flowing beard was more interested in feeding them than stigmatizing them as homeless.

It showed as Pond, a retired carpenter, ladled the hot liquid from a kettle on the tailgate of his green truck parked on Capitol Hill's Broadway Avenue East.

"You're broke?" he repeated to a man who sheepishly confessed he had no money to pay. "Then have some more soup."

Squatting nearby, Eli Kington flashed an appreciative smile as he ate.

" 'If it wasn't for him, people would be hungry,' said Kington, 21, who says he's been on the street since he was about 13. "There aren't many people that nonjudgmental, who show that much kindness."

Indeed, in a county with an estimated 2,600 homeless people, Bill Pond stands out. While there are more than 40 programs to feed the homeless, Pond's is one of the few to be run — and paid for — by an individual rather than a church or social-service agency.

It's also one of the few on Capitol Hill, an area popular with street youth.

"There's always that little niche that needs to be filled," says Fe Arreola, head of emergency food programs for the Seattle Human Services Department. "I think it's wonderful he's doing that."

Ironically, Bill Pond's soup service began about 18 months ago when he rejected an overture from a street person.

Eating a hamburger at Dick's Drive-In on Broadway, Pond was approached for spare change.

He responded with a counter offer. How about a burger instead?

"I decided I'd feed him because I didn't want to give him money; I didn't know what he would do with it," he recalls.

The man gratefully accepted, gobbled down the burger, then another, and Pond's one-man feeding program began.

Only store-bought burgers were out as too expensive. Instead, Pond mulled over issues of quantity and cost and chose homemade soup.

So he made a big pot and returned to Capitol Hill. In an hour it was gone. Then Pond got really serious, buying a 16-quart pot and getting a food-handler's license, just in case anyone asked, and began buying chickens, rice and vegetables for his soup in bulk.

He expanded his menu to add egg-salad sandwiches, small juice drinks and individual bags of chips.

Always, Pond dug deep into his pocket to pay. Soon the initial dozen customers turned into the 50 to 60 who now await him.

He's at the same location, 100 Broadway East in front of a defunct Jack in the Box restaurant, every Wednesday at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 6 p.m.

It costs Pond about $35 per night, which he partially funds by collecting and recycling aluminum cans.

Many who feed the homeless do so out of religious obligation, but Pond says that's not him. His motivation, he says, is straightforward:

"I'm just really happy inside doing this. It just makes me feel really good. It's my way of giving back. I've never been homeless, but I've been down so I know how these people feel."

Pond's son, Will, helps his dad distribute the food and says he's not surprised by his father's generosity.

"He's always been a real giving guy," the younger Pond says. "He's just generous with everything he has."

Lately Pond senior has been passing out used clothing collected by Pond junior.

Still, the father has his limits. Early on, he located his mobile kitchen in downtown Seattle, only to quickly pull up stakes when customers responded with rudeness.

That doesn't happen on Capitol Hill, he says. The crowd, mostly younger men, "are really friendly, really appreciative. It just breaks your heart."

Nearby shopkeepers have been cordial, too, he says; some have even contributed soup ingredients.

Pond doesn't ask his customers why they're homeless, nor does he try to verify they are. He suspects about 70 percent are living on the street, but it's a respect thing, he says, not to pry.

Pond has never solicited financial donations from the homeless or the public. But concerned that "it's getting really expensive," he says he's open to donations of soup and sandwich ingredients. He can be contacted at 206-244-8521.

Or just look for the guy parked beside a boarded-up Jack in the Box dishing up soup and getting grateful smiles in return.

"Someone willing to give free grub to people in need is a good thing; I think he's a good guy," said Shade Allen yesterday, filling his stomach with warm soup as rain began to fall.

Elizabeth Rhodes: erhodes@seattletimes.com