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Homeless in Seattle
Jan 24, 2001 --
On any given night in King County, 6,000 homeless people line up for 2,405 available beds.
"Throughout the year, we house 210 guys a night," says Rich Gamble of St. Martin de Porres, an adult male shelter located just outside downtown. "We're full every night, 365 days a year," he adds, mentioning a waiting list. "Sometimes, we have to drive some of the guys back into town and drop them off, and they're on their own."
While most people picture the typical homeless person as an alcoholic or drug-addicted beggar, reports say that 30 percent of the homeless are children, and 44 percent perform paid work.
From Homeowner to Homeless
Randy Sotelo at the Aloha Inn front desk with staff members Rhetta Barker (center) and Cecilia McKinsey.
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At 34, Randy Sotelo falls into the latter category. A native Seattleite, Sotelo was "on the streets for only two and a half weeks this time around" before he settled at the Aloha Inn, a transitional facility on Aurora Avenue. "This is one of those type of places you can get in and follow the rules and get your life together," he says.
Now, Sotelo works two jobs and is starting a business. Family problems forced him to regress from Auburn homeowner to homeless statistic.
"When you're going through a divorce, you just end up that way," says Sotelo. "Somebody's got to go and, of course, the children and the wife are not going to be without a roof."
Although he has family in California, Sotelo wanted to stay near his kids, and none of his friends had space for him. "A lot of people on the streets are in similar situations," says Sotelo. "They're pretty smart individuals ... [but] when you don't have a shower or a place to lay down or change your clothes, it brings you down and it's hard to go out and get a job."
Managed by the Archdiocese Housing Authority of Catholic Community Services of Western Washington, Aloha Inn requires residents to work there 15 hours a week for $2 an hour during their six-month stay. After the $30 per week rent is paid, anything extra is saved toward an apartment.
According to Sotelo, residents are encouraged to work outside jobs, too. Most of them, he says, "have a lot of skills--from Boeing workers to auto mechanics."
"There's people out there that need help," says Sotelo. "A lot of them have reputations for being drunk or being on drugs, but there are so many out there who are trying really hard. Mothers with children, they need more places like this, especially during the winter months. It gets pretty cold to sleep outside."
Sotelo, also a musician, is writing music for one of the residents. "It's a song about homelessness," he chuckles. "We sang it in front of the [Seattle] City Council."
Army Veteran Now Real Change Vendor
Leon Good sits outside the Puget Consumers Co-op on Northeast 65th Street and 20th Avenue Northeast as an outdoor thermometer registers in the lower 40s. "It's not really that cold," he says, his breath visible in the frosty air.
Greeting customers entering and exiting the store, Good is careful not to ask them directly to purchase a copy of Real Change newspaper from the pile at his side. The 53-year-old, who has been a paper vendor "on and off for four years," experiences bouts of homelessness whenever he and his wife separate.
Although he just moved in with a brother-in-law and his spouse, Good has "definitely had periods of not having a place to go." Most recently, he bunked at the Union Gospel Mission, although he's "slept underneath the Aurora Bridge with a bunch of sleeping bags" and stayed at "camp cities during the summer along Des Moines Highway."
A former Army aviator, Good accepts responsibility for his predicament. "I have a bad attitude," he admits. "I don't get along with too many people."
Good says he was "shot down, chased and hit" while in Vietnam, but he is not bitter about struggling for shelter in a country where 40 percent of homeless men are veterans. "I went into the service because the president at that time said, 'This is what I want you to do,'" says Good.
Real Change, published twice monthly, is sold by 150 poor and homeless, badge-wearing vendors around the city. On a bad day, Good says, he makes as little as $3 or $4. "We buy our papers for 30 cents, then we sell it for $1. A lot of vendors make real good money. Some guy even made $126," says Good, genuinely awestruck.
"A lot of [vendors] go down to the stores and they ask everybody [to buy the paper]," Good complains. "I don't, because if I was a customer in the store, I would not want to be bothered like that. There's a few of us that get very aggressive, and it's not necessary," he confides. "The paper has been very to good to me."
A Young Woman Gets On Her Feet
Nineteen-year-old Annie requested her last name not be used. A resident of the Aloha Inn for the past two months, she's been homeless for four.
Eager to be on her own, Annie left her adoptive mother's house only to learn that independence is not easy. "I jumped out into the world and I was not prepared. By then I had broken the relationship with my mom so I couldn't return to the house," she says.
Like Sotelo, Annie has thrived at the Aloha Inn. "Basically, I need someone to hand me structure," she says, adding that her youth gives her an advantage in starting over. "It makes me grateful that I'm doing this now rather than a lot later on in my life."
While she hasn't experienced sexual harassment, Annie's aware of her vulnerability to unwanted male attention. "Even in a place that's as safe as this, an individual can choose to do something that's detrimental," she says. "I have my fiance with me. If I didn't, I would really feel endangered."
Once she and her fiance save enough money for their own apartment, her parents promise to send them to college.
Earlier, Annie "floated among friends' houses" and sometimes "had to live outside." She also stayed in women's quarters at the Union Gospel Mission and slept at Discovery Park. "We had a tent of our own. I'm full-blooded Native American and I have permission to stay there," she says.
A member of the Lakota (Sioux) Nation, Annie was born on South Dakota's Rosebud Reservation and came to Seattle after being adopted at age 8. She hopes to be a lawyer someday, "so I can go on the reservation and speak for property that's being used by the government. I want to advocate for the reservation."
According to Aloha Inn Program Manager Flo Beaumon, homelessness is "a politically created problem" caused by the lack of affordable housing when wages don't inflate as quickly as rents. With 2 million people currently homeless in the U.S., and with homelessness on the rise, odds are that some of us could end up in the streets, too.
Reader Comments
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Darren Lamb
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May 28, 2004
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Washington
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3D Artist
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Yes, this is directed at Randi sotelo, please ask him if his brothers and sisters are as follows, chris duval, martha, gary, if so we`d like to get in touch with you you`re family is concerned about you, I`m marthas fiancee, josh, jake, and jenn, miss their uncle randi, please give me a call, (425) 576-8746 ext-1415 |
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