Chris Schoenberger

Published October 2009 Vol. 13 Issue 9

by Gretchen Crowe

When picturing Denver VOICE vendors, one conjures ideas of hard work and dedication to self advancement, but do we truly think of success—that kind of success seen as a broad and universal term?  We should. 

Meet our deep-voiced, sports fanatic hailing from Wapakoneta, Ohio, Chris Schoenberger.  An only child who is a U.S. Air Force veteran and Ohio State University alum, Chris came to Denver to be near his son four years ago. He began vending September 2008 after losing contact with his son and ex-wife.

Chris is a picture of evolution.  He is that success story in the vending program, accomplishing substantial growth.  After claiming he didn’t have a business model, a three-step tier began to slip out as he talked about working with the VOICE.  He started vending by working corners, and after three months, he attempted to vend at a parking lot of a large, retail store.  He was thrown off, and began asking, “How do I get permission?”  After some meetings, he got that permission at a local store.  From this move, he tripled his paper sales, and for six months remained the second highest in sales each month.  Around three months ago, Chris began to put out Denver VOICE information tables outside a local mall.  He can man several tables at the same time. And, by evolving, his successes continue to grow.  His next step, a more personal one, is to re-establish a relationship with his son.

When asked his techniques to engage people while vending he says, “Stay in the conversation when you’re talking to someone. Don’t ask someone else for a donation while talking to another.  People respect their time, so should you.”  

Richard Wolfe

Published September 2009 Vol. 13 Issue 8

by Gretchen Crowe

“You just might be screwed, Denver’s street paper just closed up—you can’t move there!” said a fellow Portland vendor to Richard Wolfe around 2006, as he made plans to move to Denver. 

Thoughtful and gentle, Richard stands uncomfortably as I snap his picture for the September Vendor Profile. He is part of an emerging group of vendors that don’t just claim one paper or one city, but many. These are vendors that tour the country, mapping their adventures through cities with street papers—sometimes they hop locations, but some, like Richard, use the papers to help create a new home. 

Richard has vended in Chicago, Seattle, Portland and has been a vendor in Denver for over a year. His personal interest in studying psychology certainly makes his job intriguing. When asked if the climate of vending varies geographically, Richard replied, “absolutely!” Denver residents will only talk in passing about the concept of the paper, while Portland natives aren’t afraid to pick up the whole conversation. Seattle’s multitudes of tourists are ripe to ignore vendors, and Chicago’s big city mentality leaves vendors open for frequent off-hand comments. But all in all, “the best part of the papers is helping poor people get on their feet. Vending used to be my secondary means to make money after having a job, but now it’s my primary. One thing I can tell you is I do best with common people. Too rich or too poor and I don’t do as well. I like the common person.”

Born in Danville, IL into a coal mining family, Richard smiled as he reminisced on his life story. “And you know what I’m looking forward to now?!” Saving up for a 55-gallon aquarium for his new apartment.

Stanley Michael Jackson

Published August 2009 Vol. 13 Issue 10

by Gretchen Crowe

Born in Oakland, CA in 1954, Stanley Michael Jackson—and yes, it’s his real name—grew up in a family with eight brothers and five sisters.  He began his life on the streets around age 14, when he moved away on a bus to Los Angeles, which he calls, “the time I began traveling around.” He has always been transient—never married, no children. He found he made money as a pool shark and continued this for over 20 years, visiting over 40 states. He also ran a bingo hall.

Stanley talks lovingly of his siblings, and shockingly, only one of his seven older brothers is still living. Life in Oakland was rough. He lost three brothers to guns and three to natural causes. But, when meeting Stanley, it’s not obvious. He is a powerhouse of joy with an unforgettable and contagious smile.  He often breaks out in song, like, “I’m just a guy, that learned to get by, on the streets…  I’m a street genius!”  Stanley’s faith is outward and strong, and he is often caught helping others on the street by giving coats or sack lunches. About the resources in Denver, he says, “A lot of programs are there if you just walk in the door.”

His gift for gab is nearly legendary, and he’s honed in his paper vending skills by vending Street Sheet in San Francisco around five years before coming to Denver. He laughingly said of the Denver VOICE, “I think the paper is beautiful, lets people help themselves and you can talk to a person on the street without breaking the law!” And his favorite, original tag line is, “What’s the greatest NATION in the world?”  “It’s a DO-nation!” To find Stanley, visit the 16th Street Mall between Champa and Stout Streets. 

Belinda Cotton & Victor Bowie

Published August 2009 Vol. 13 Issue 7

by Gretchen Crowe

Meet Belinda Cotton and Victor Bowie.  They’ve been together six years, and are quick to say they’ve had a lot of ups and downs; but love is obvious as these two work together as vendors.  “This is my baby, we work as a team.  We have a real good time with the VOICE, and it actually strengthens our relationship just working together.  Even when it’s so discouraging, I found the right person and I can turn to her and she makes me smile.” 

Victor was laid off earlier this year as a forklift driver and joined Belinda in the vendor works program.

Belinda and Victor approach their work like they did with their successful construction cleaning business in Atlanta:  well-thought out and professional.  They pack up decorated donation buckets, lollipops and helium balloons for kids, alongside the energy to work for eight or more hours.  These two have a strong understanding that not all people they encounter can donate for a paper, and they are the first to refer people back to the VOICE and offer their knowledge of resources for people without homes.  During the interview, Victor talked a lot about the positives of the VOICE, when he said, “This provides homeless people with a sense of dignity.  It may not be for everyone, but if you want to better yourself…”  Belinda let out a sincere chuckle, “The VOICE is like a lifeline!”

These two are getting ready to move to Atlanta, but they have an amazing goal up their sleeves.  They are taking steps to start their own paper based on the Denver VOICE’s street paper model.  And what’s it going to be called?  “The Voice of Atlanta.”  


James Wright

Published July 2009 Vol. 13 Issue 6

by Gretchen Crowe

If you remember back to the news on june 2, you might remember the top story about a homeless man caught by the rushing waters of Cherry Creek, and the rescue that ensued.  That was James Wright.  James had dozed off, so wasn’t aware the water had risen up around him, trapping him on a lone pillar.  He called 911 for help. 

The first thing James did after the incident was to call our office, then he sloshed up to “distribution,” where vendors get papers.  He was all laughs, but aware of the severity of the morning.

James was born in Appleton, WI and moved to Denver in 1981.  James loves jokes, trivia, collecting grocery store stickers, but primarily, playing guitar.  He used to record songs every Saturday night in his apartment for over nine years.  He has produced CD’s, and has a canon to fill many, many more.

Since the Cherry Creek incident, James’ daily life has changed.  The media attention has made him a street celebrity, and also has drawn more authority figures to monitor him. Denver prohibits sleeping on Cherry Creek. He worried he might have gotten someone in trouble, since he was sleeping where people aren’t supposed to be.  He says, “it’s more difficult to be left alone to rest,” if he’s stuck outside from vending late, because police know him by sight now.  Luckily, James often stays with his brother in town. 

James’ experiences highlight the dilemma of where to go if you have no where else to go, especially when you’re constantly singled out to keep moving.  Of course, James’ humorous response:  “It just helps me get more exercise!”