Homeless People

They lived in the shadows of the city, and they died there. In the last year, 85 men and women passed away on the streets of Philadelphia or in shelters - more than twice the number of five years ago. The increase matches the overall rise in the city's homeless street population, which reached 527 people in a count last month. At a frigid noontime rally yesterday in John F. Kennedy Plaza, also known as LOVE Park, advocates for the homeless, as well as the homeless themselves, came to remember the dead.

The nightclub doorman stands in the long line, waiting for a bed at the Central Union Mission, his arthritis aching in the chill December mist. Behind him is a young man with a cherub's face wearing a spotless white technician's uniform. In line, too, is Michael Taylor, 36, ex-con, father, recovering addict, devotee of Russian literature, and day laborer. None of the three fits the stereotype of a homeless person. All three work at least part time; they just can't afford a place to live.

Homeless people left alcoves and alleys for a night of guaranteed warmth - and survival. Downtown commuters huddled in bus shelters, peeping out of mufflers and ski caps dusted with snow. Mummers looked at the sky and fretted, wondering if the weather would let them strut their stuff up Broad Street this morning. As 1998 whispered away, clad in the flimsy white of an afternoon snowfall, its successor - one with lowered temperatures and the heightened expectations a new year always brings - debuted.

They are hard to miss, the new men in blue. Each weekday morning along Kelly Drive, they pick up litter, trim branches, and rake leaves as thousands of commuters zip by on their way to work. For the men in the blue uniforms, their work is cleaning the roadside. Once, they were homeless and jobless. Now, through a program called Ready, Willing and Able, they have a place to stay and a purpose. "This program has given me an opportunity to restore my life," said Barry Crosby, 40, a recovering drug addict who once slept in abandoned houses and crack dens.

Councilwoman Jannie Blackwell was taken into custody by police yesterday after she interfered with the arrest of her driver, who had thwarted attempts by a SEPTA officer to roust homeless people in a Center City subway concourse, police sources said. Both Blackwell and her driver, Michael Williams, 36, were released about two hours after the incident. No charges were filed pending a review by the District Attorney's Office. Blackwell was treated at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania for unknown injuries received in the incident.

Joey Merlino threw a Thanksgiving dinner for the homeless yesterday that featured a Mummers band, a roast turkey dinner, and a 400-pound Santa Claus who swore "Skinny Joey" was no mobster. "He's got a bum rap," said Angelo Lutz, 32, a South Philly chef who dressed up as Santa and passed out Barbie dolls and basketballs at Merlino's party. "They'd blame him for the JFK assassination if they could. " Merlino, who crime investigators say is now the underboss of the Philadelphia mob, chartered a bus for 45 homeless people who had been staying at a deserted Catholic church in North Philadelphia.

FOR TOO MANY years, Robert Hayes was drowning in addiction and homelessness, unable to see that he had a unique voice, and that by using his voice to help save the lives of others, he could save his own as well. Last year, in the depths of his decades-long cycle of dependency to recovery to dependency again, Hayes was living at the city's Ridge Avenue shelter for homeless men. That's where he met the art facilitator, Alan Bell, whose mission was to peel back those layers of failure and depression and let Hayes' light shine through.

Just inside the entrance to the Sunday Breakfast Rescue Mission, a Center City shelter that provides beds and meals to homeless men, Seth Camm and Kurt Knobelsdorf set up shop. Casually unkempt in old, comfortable clothes, Camm and Knobelsdorf were indistinguishable from the rest of the men except, perhaps, for their youth and their belongings: an easel, a box of oil paints and brushes, and more than 40 portraits lined along the floor of the shelter's far wall. The faces looking out from the paintings belong to the men who walk through the doors.

As part of the city's effort to better coordinate outdoor free meals for homeless people, Mayor Nutter has created the Philadelphia Food Access Collaborative, which includes many groups that give food to people in need. The collaborative grew out of a yearlong attempt to bridge the gap between groups that feed homeless people on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway and those that want them to move indoors. Bill Golderer, the convening minister of Broad Street Ministry, said the collaborative was "positioned to drive our city toward new solutions to this vexing problem.

WHAT HAPPENED to the homeless people who were evicted from under Interstate 95 in Port Richmond last week? The Daily News touched base with four of them yesterday. Three were staying in shelters last night, and a fourth has been living temporarily in Kensington. After going to Washington last Tuesday with Occupy Philly and Fight for Philly folks to rally for the extension of unemployment insurance, these four and others returned to Philadelphia on Friday. Paul Klemmer, 53, an educated man who said he had dropped out of college, said he's still working toward creating a commune with like-minded people.