Categories

Entries in Gretchen Crowe (13)

Wednesday
Jun022010

The "Phoenix Effect"

By Gretchen Crowe

It’s close to 9am on any typical weekday morning, and a group of volunteers and staff are hustling to make sure we’ve gotten everything done for the paper’s distribution from  9 A.M.  to 11 A.M. at our Park Avenue and Champa storefront. We unlock the doors as the room fills with the smell of coffee, and our morning begins with talking, training and distributing papers. The room swirls with the chaos of personal stories and needs, advice, and the celebrations of successful days vending the paper. Regardless of socio-economic distinctions, everyone at the distribution center is connected by a newspaper, one that creates community around its very existence.

Overall, the vendor program truly is a thriving community, and has a true heartbeat of its own that can’t quite be seen in the individual vendor on the 16th Street Mall or in the quality of the words we print. Our home office tethers us all to the program, and vendors have a rich and deep connection to their vendor community, to us and to the mission of the paper.

Click to read more ...

Thursday
Apr012010

Vendor Profile: Anita Rios

Published April 2010 Vol. 14 Issue 4

by Gretchen Crowe

November 11, 2009 was a normal day at our vendor office. After we conducted vendor orientation, we heard a vehement and forthright, “I got the job; I actually got the job!” It filled the room with sound and sincerity. “You don’t know how long I have waited to be able to say those words.” Anita Rios, nearly in tears, had become a vendor. Having been denied for more jobs than she could remember, she has taken the VOICE and created her own job and means to income.

 

Born in Schweinfurt, Germany, she was adopted into an army family while her father and mother were stationed on base. Her mother is Australian. Anita talked of being a typical army brat, moving and growing up in more than just Germany, but in Chicago, Oak Lawn, Ill. St. Louis, Culver City, Calif. and on and on. Anita went to high school in Los Angeles. She finished high school, and entered Santa Monica City College, but as her father’s heart began to fail, she dropped out to help take care of him.

Anita was soon married, and although she worked hard as a waitress, after a breaking her arm at work, she found herself accessing public assistance for the first time. She had two children, Janet and Scott, and was a housewife, waiting tables when she could. She even had to walk out of one job where people were doing and selling drugs from the restaurant. Money was never easy; State and Federal assistance were a part of making ends meet. Somewhere in there her marriage slipped away. She found another partner, and was married again.

They moved to a successful co-op in West LA, and she continued waitressing when needed. It was 1994. Her children were raised and were on their way to their own lives, and she overheard an unfortunate conversation between her husband and another woman on the phone. She couldn’t sleep that night. Around 3:30AM she felt something odd and woke her husband up to tell him there was an earthquake. It didn’t feel that serious at that point, and he went back to sleep.

Anita knew it was an earthquake and things were about to change. There were over 100 aftershocks in the Jan. 17, 1994, Los Angeles 6.7-magnitude earthquake. She didn’t know as she felt those early morning tremors that the quake would take 72 lives; she just knew things were changing.

As the aftershocks rocked LA, she packed up a bag—weary of her cheating husband and the city around her—called a taxi, and when the roads permitted later that day, she headed to the Greyhound Station. She booked a ticket to Denver, and has never looked back. She got a job at Sun Café, now Tom’s Diner, on Colfax and Pearl, working there for nearly five years. When Tom’s took over, she began to look for work. Like so many, Anita has worked telemarketing, fast food at Wendy’s and other odd jobs. “It’s been hard and you get caught in it.”

Anita’s strength is evident, and you will find her vending on the 16th Street Mall. “My impression of the VOICE is that there are nice people. I like the way they approach me. Plus, I like the articles.” Although she still keeps her eyes open for full-time positions, she is making the best of her hard times. Anita is a beautiful woman, loves to style her hair and try on new clothes—not so different than any of the rest of us.



Monday
Mar012010

In Your Own Words: Andrea Scherer, Rest In Peace 

Published March 2010 Vol. 14 Issue 3

Andrea Scherer, Rest in Peace

You know those things that just stop your breath and heart all at once? It doesn’t sit right, and it hurts, almost like time was just thrown on its head? On January 31, vendor and writer Andrea Scherer passed away, two days before her 21st birthday. She had many identities, but was called Rinu Narazuki by her street friends. Rinu began as a vendor in May, rolling up in her (temporary) wheel chair with her loud, yet smart, comments, alongside an actual pet cat, attached by a leash, sitting on the back of her chair. Rinu was a force of the universe; no one ever forgot meeting her. Funny, pensive and loquacious, she was a gifted author of poetry, stories and stream-of-consciousness writing. We published her story, “Mall Ride,” in the October 2009 issue. Rinu gave us such a strong and powerful literary voice, one that we tearfully have to announce ended way too soon. In memory of Rinu, we’re sharing with you one of the last things she submitted to us for publication.

—Gretchen Crowe

Monday
Mar012010

Vendor Profile: Juan Carlos Lopez

Published March 2010 Vol. 14 Issue 3

by Gretchen Crowe

Juan walked into our doors on December 9, 2009. This seemingly quiet man with the miraculous smile has quickly become a member of the 300 club.

Juan was born in Juãrez, Chihuahua in 1970, moving to New Mexico around six or seven years later. He has seven sisters and two brothers, who all remain close today. When asked about his work history, he flashed a grin and said he started working very young, in fact, while he still lived in Mexico. “My mother used to get mad because I would just take off and go downtown as a kid.” Juan sold Chiclets to the tourists. “When I started doing that, it was for Christmas and I brought lots of groceries and presents for my little sisters.” They weren’t so mad that day.

Juan’s approach to vending the Denver VOICE is unique. He vends to Denver’s Spanish speaking communities, which is a break through for the VOICE. Juan is humbled by the helping nature of this community, and said most people don’t read English, “but they take that paper home, and someone there
will.”

Juan hasn’t had it easy. His struggle seems to fuel his faith in God, and his unyielding belief in other people is inspiring. Since Thanksgiving day, Juan has seen three acts of violence that aren’t uncommon for people living on the streets. The first on Thanksgiving was as he walked next to a bridge. A couple of men came out, cutting Juan’s cheek like a smiley face, simply to steal his coat.

The second was in an alley where he was sleeping. Some bar patrons left a bar and kicked the back of his head, pushing his teeth through his bottom lip and knocking him out. Did they steal anything? No, it was a hateful act.

The third attack broke Juan’s nose. Some younger kids stole his backpack. It’s hard to fathom the love that Juan emanates after incidents like these, but when asked about how he isn’t bitter, he answered, “I’m trying to clean my own self, and when I see my inequities, I start my day thanking God for another day and another day. I don’t want to hate anyone.”

Juan is currently struggling to get housing and to not have to sleep outside. He moved here from Albuquerque two years ago to follow a friend. He had encouraged Juan to move, stay with him and hinted of a job. Juan had been working in construction and restaurants since he left high school, and was searching for a new leaf after his parents’ deaths. But, when Juan got here, his so-called friend had given him a fake address and disconnected his number. Juan’s first step was to touch base with the Catholic Church. He began taking care of the grounds of the church in exchange for a small room. He still volunteers regularly at Father Woody’s. In fact, while waiting to do this interview, Juan spent an hour translating our vendor orientation and training for a new recruit who knew very little English. Perhaps the glimmer of selflessness is beginning to come through. For those of us who know him, it’s unmistakable.

Wednesday
Feb242010

Vendor Profile: Eric "Fuzzy" Johnson

Published January 2010 Vol. 14 Issue 1

by Gretchen Crowe

Mention metal music, and “Fuzzy,” as we call him, perks up.  He’ll tell you who’s sincere, who’s based on fashion or who’s down right bad.  Eric Johnson is “Fuzzy.”  His nails might be painted black or his hair dyed, but Fuzzy is unmistakable.  His most noticeable trait is his candor, and his words and veracity are the precise reason he’s probably still here today.  Even though he might be the first to criticize us here at the VOICE, his patriotism for it is inherently folded into the core of his own identity.  “If it wasn’t for this paper and Rick, I would be dead.  That is really, really real.”

Fuzzy was born in Two Rivers, Wisconsin, in September 1973.  After finishing high school, this bass and guitar player took off on a hitch-hiking journey to New Mexico.  Resonating with this freedom, he found a home within the “tour-heads” of the Grateful Dead.  He branched out to some Jerry Band (that’s Jerry Garcia) tours, and he stayed mobile for two years.  At age 20, he settled in Denver, because in his travels, he liked it.  Like most kids on tour, life wasn’t just happy hitch-hiking and music; there’s an underbelly, and it set the seeds for the next years of Fuzzy’s life.

He was married, had a son and then divorced.  He lived on the streets for the next six years.  Caught up in the social problems of street drugs, Fuzzy drifted, making enough money day-to-day by reading poetry for tips to the pedestrians he encountered.  “Would you care to hear a poem for a small tip?” was his catch phrase.  “I lived on hand-outs.”  One day, his waitress friend at Marlowe’s introduced him to Rick Barnes, who had just launched the new Denver VOICE the same month.  Something, Fuzzy said, clicked.  Rick tipped him well and said to call him, because he could help him work.  Fuzzy wasn’t sure if Rick was sincere or if he was trying to proposition him (not a far-fetched notion to people on the streets).  With a chuckle, “I figured out he wanted to help,” Fuzzy said. Fuzzy became vendor #9.  Out of thousands of vendors since the time he signed up, #9 is a pretty amazing number to still have.  “The VOICE lifts people from the ashes of life.  Look at me, it’s given me a way to make a living and get an apartment.  Since being a vendor, I got my head where I can go to school.”  He’s also been published in the VOICE several times, earning the nomination for a North American Street Newspaper Association award, “2009 Best Vendor Contribution.”

Fuzzy celebrates his beautiful fiancée, Xea, and their apartment together.  He celebrates getting to go to college.  His wit might make him seem contemptuous or wry, but we know better; Fuzzy, true patriots always offer the hardest questions of all!