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Desperate lives lived under the radar

By ANNE LINDBERG
Published January 31, 2007

They looked every place they could think of Monday. The Rev. Lionel Cabral of the Suncoast Haven of Rest Rescue Mission started at 5 a.m., talking with people at Pinellas Park's five day labor sites. Later in the day, he and his staff moved to bus stops and other places where the homeless gather. Police officers used all-terrain vehicles to scour city parks and woods; others used mounted horses to negotiate tougher terrain along the railroad tracks. Both groups found camps - mattresses, tents or makeshift wooden shelters - but neither found any homeless early in the morning. They blamed the cold. The situation was different at Northwest Presbyterian Church, on 54th Avenue N in the unincorporated Lealman area on the edge of Kenneth City's western border. Shelter manager Jim Leiby said 65 people and a dog belonging to a homeless couple had spent the night. A Neighborhood Times reporter and photographer spoke with some of the poor and homeless encountered during Monday's annual homeless census. Here are their stories:

A fisherman's tale

Keith Clancy, 38, grew up in a family of bakers but became a commercial fisherman. He spent 20 years fishing for grouper, first in Gloucester, Mass., then in Madeira Beach.

For 10 of those years, Clancy was a grouper captain. Life was good for him and his wife, Rachel Esposito. Clancy could bring home $3,000 to $4,000 for two weeks' work.

When fishing regulations tightened quotas, that same amount of work brought only $600 - if work was available. The couple moved in with Esposito's sister but were thrown out about three months ago after an argument.

They now live in a three-person tent with as many possessions as the could cram inside. They use their car battery to run appliances like the TV. They also have a Coleman heater, which they know is risky, but on cold nights, "you can't get it too warm," Clancy said. They keep water handy in case of fire.

They couldn't take it anymore Sunday and went to Northwest Presbyterian to escape the cold.

Being homeless? "It's the worse experience I ever had. This is not me. This is not me."

Things may be looking up. Clancy was scheduled to begin a new job Tuesday as a gel coat finisher at a yacht manufacturer. A gel coat finisher makes sure the boats shine.

Esposito thinks it will take two months to save enough money to pay deposits for an apartment or other shelter. That time can't come soon enough, she said.

Homeless again

This is the second time Albert Kvecas, 44, has been homeless. His first experience was nine years ago when he moved here. That time, he went to the Salvation Army and got help from the organization's work program. It's harder to get into that program now, he said.

Kvecas became homeless again about three months ago when he was arrested on a charge of aggravated battery, which was later dropped.

While in jail, he lost his job. And he and his girlfriend Lisa Farrand, 43, were evicted from the room they shared at Friendship Villas in Pinellas Park.

Since then, they've been living in a tent in the woods. Although they spent Sunday night at a shelter, it's generally not too bad, Kvecas said.

"Believe it or not, it stays pretty warm in the tent," he said. "I've got quilts and blankets and stuff."

At first, they pitched the tent near Northside Hospital, but Pinellas County sheriff's deputies told them to leave.

Kvecas declined say where the tent is now, but said he hopes the police have not taken it while he and Farrand try to earn money doing day labor.

Kvecas generally earns about $63 a day if he's lucky enough to get a job. Last week he was only able to work twice, earning $126.

Farrand works in telemarketing for $6.70 an hour for an eight-hour day when she can. But the job is upcounty and is hard to get to. She also frequents day labor sites, where she can get occasional housekeeping jobs for about $52 a day.

Kvecas is looking for a permanent job that pays more, and when he finds it, "I'll make sure nothing happens."

Chronically homeless

Marvin Poe Jr. hears voices.

He thinks he's 50, but he's not sure. He talks constantly, eager to tell his story. His name, he said, is "Marvin Poe Jr. Morge the Bum."

"It's a long name, but it's a name," he said.

Marvin Poe Jr. is the name he got from his birth father, who, like Poe's mother, is deceased.

"Morge the Bum" is the name his "stepfather" gave him. His stepfather, Poe said, has great powers. He created Hurricane Andrew and he can cause other weather phenomena.

Poe has apparently been on his own since his teens, or, as he explained, "I've been down on my luck since I was born." Poe said he has been in jails and prisons, boys homes and foster homes.

He hears "two sets of voices," he says, and suffers from hallucinations.

On the verge

Dave Murphy, 19, lives with his mother, uncle and five younger siblings. He's not homeless yet, but he's about to be if his family does not come up with rent money this week.

"We're being evicted," Murphy said. "It's hard."

Murphy is trying his best to help his family. He first worked for a lawn service, but that job dried up.

Now he frequents day labor sites, like the one where he was Monday. When he gets a job, which is about half the time, he takes jobs that few people want - picking up trash, cleaning construction sites.

For a day's worth of manual labor, he takes home about $44.

For the time being, it's the best he can do.

Fast Facts:

About the count

- The Pinellas Coalition for the Homeless does an annual survey of the homeless each year. The numbers help social service agencies gauge need and direct services.

- This year's preliminary figures are expected to be released in 11/2 to two weeks and the final analysis in March.

[Last modified January 30, 2007, 22:22:36]