Inside, Jim McConville is unloading bags of rice. Jim Blackstock is stacking bags of flour. George Dwyer is setting up a folding metal table, and Josef Jemielity is arranging jars of honey on the table top. They are insulting each other like affectionate brothers.
At 8:47 a.m., the time arrives.
The line dissolves and more than 100 people hurriedly - but in orderly fashion - walk straight to the metal tables to sign up for free government- issued rice, flour, honey, powdered milk and cornmeal. In seconds, they are four and five deep in front of volunteers at the tables.
"Don't rush. We got plenty," McConville says, his hand on an elderly man's arm.
This is a working-class neighborhood of Irish, Italian and Polish families who are not used to taking charity from anyone, least of all the government. Volunteers speak softly to several recipients in Italian and Polish.
"Up until about two years ago, I wouldn't have even considered this, but now, it's not a matter of swallowing pride. I've got to eat," said Kenneth Mayne, 42, a former Conrail employee who has been out of work for much of the last four years.
Post 82 of the Disabled Veterans of America runs the food program with the permission of the Rev. Santo Garzarelli, better known as "Father Sandy," and with the help of Seniors on the Go, a church group for senior citizens.
Those doing the helping sometimes need free food themselves. "I don't care who comes in here, you're treated decent," said Bill Baldwin, 55, a disabled veteran who keeps the lines moving. "Just because you're down and out doesn't mean you shouldn't be treated good."
And so, in this room full of need and unhappiness, there is joking and gentleness and above all, great kindness.
"Take two, hon, go ahead," Dwyer says, stuffing two bags of rice in an elderly woman's shopping bag. The woman moves on to flour.
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