Dave Atencio

Text & Photograph by Gretchen Crowe

We all know the phrase that we’re all about a month or two away from being homeless, but how many of us know someone where that has become a reality?

Dave Atencio knows this concept very well. “I never thought it could ever happen to me, but it did,” he says. For a quiet man who never expected this path, he has become quite the icon and public face of homelessness. He has been interviewed by 9 News twice, both on dealing with the extreme cold in February and on his experience as a vendor for the Denver VOICE in an upcoming story. Ironically, he never uses the word, “homeless,” in his pitch as he vends the paper.

Dave, a Denver native, was laid off in August and became homeless at the end of September. He has been staying at the Rescue Mission since. When asked if he had ever had to sleep outside, he said he was thankful that he hadn’t. Every morning he gets in the lottery for a bed, and his luck has prevailed. Dave is currently looking for full-time employment, and looks forward to reclaiming his previous life, working and living in his own place. He vends six days per week at 16th and California from around 7:30 A.M. to 3:30 P.M. “I don’t care what anybody says, vending the VOICE is hard work,” he says “I’m out doing, and I just meet fantastic people.”

He was raised by his beloved mother, Vina Atencio, who cleaned houses in (what he remembers as) Wash Park for a living. His father passed away from an auto accident when Dave was a toddler; Dave was an only child. He attended Swansea Elementary, right by the Purina factory off Highway 70. He got his GED at the beginning of his junior year at North High School, and left because he was eager to begin working. He joined the Marines and was trained as a tunnel rat; however, the Vietnam war had ended and he served his four years in San Diego. “I was a Hollywood Marine. People always ask me about the military, but I don’t like to say much about it. I’m just Dave,” he says.

In fact, Dave’s work history reads like a perfect resume. When Dave returned to Denver, he was a “suit” and worked downtown at United Bank Servicing, a company that processed checks. He worked for ten years, consistently being promoted. During that time Dave had started a family. When Norwest bought the company, he was one of the many layoffs. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for him to get another job; he found a position at Dataplex as the microfilm darkroom processor. Dave stayed in that position for nine-and-a-half years, and laughed as he recalled one funny day at work. His shirt had gotten caught in the processor and pulled him tight into it, the alarms and lights began to go off and his fellow employees rushed in to cut him free. He wasn’t hurt, but it served as a good laugh.

When Dave left Dataplex, he temped for a bit, and then began working at the front desk at the Royal Host Motel at Ogden and Colfax. It seemed an uneventful job—aside from the daily Colfax shenanigans—and he worked there for five years, until it burned down. Dave was very quick to say that no one was hurt. After the hotel shutdown, Dave ran the maintenance and grounds keeping at an apartment building in Englewood. Dave stayed there until August of 2010, when he was laid off and was unable to find another job in time to avoid losing his home, bringing us to now.

“The VOICE has put me in a great situation. I was able to save money and give something during the holiday to the kids,” Dave said, “I would really like a full-time position as a groundskeeper or maintenance-man again. I don’t want to have to ask, ‘now what do I do?’ anymore. All I can say is thank you to the VOICE. It’s been great to me. It’s a job, and I get to smile, always greet people and be courteous, just like my mom…she was strict and hard-working, but always smiling.” •

Brian Augustine

By Gretchen Crowe
On July 8, 1961, two extraordinary happenings occurred in Colorado. The first was that it was snowing in the mountains in July. The second, Lorene Arnoldy gave birth to her fifth child, Brian Augustine, at Denver General Hospital. Brian’s mother raised her four boys and her daughter, and as Brian said, “She raised five hellions; she really did her best.” The family moved all over the state, sometimes hopping between jobs, but often with Lorene as a stay-at-home, single mom.

Brian claims allegiance to Columbine Grade School in Boulder, Shaw Heights Junior High in Westminster and Central High in Aurora, where he finished ninth grade. Brian then began work as a dishwasher at Furr’s. “Funny thing when I left high school, I couldn’t read. I was illiterate,” he said. “Well, my family was dysfunctional; it wasn’t the best environment to learn.” In fact, a lot of Brian’s upbringing was dysfunctional. None of this can be detected from his soft demeanor and sense of awareness, all wrapped into his helpful nature. He has certainly overcome a lot.

Right at his eighteenth birthday, Brian enlisted in the Army, shipping off to Germany after boot camp. “After getting to Germany, I bought a dictionary and a copy of ‘War and Peace,’” he said. “A great read, by the way… I would read until I couldn’t understand a word. Then I would look it up, copy it and the definition down ten times in a notebook, and just keep going that way. It took me six months to get through the first third of the book, and then during the next six months, I finished the rest of it. See, my goal was to read Shakespeare and understand it. And I am proud I can read and understand it now.” He smirked as he said it. In fact, last time he was tested, Brian has a grade sixteen reading level.

While in Germany, Brian had a daughter, Hiki, who still lives in Germany and works as a translator. Brian was discharged for not being able to adapt to military life and moved back to Denver after nearly two years away. He was offered a job as a bouncer and moved up to bartender. He worked the circuit of popular clubs in the 80’s, until one day he quit to enjoy his own time. He worked various jobs at a temp agency, then got a job as a “maid” in Vail. That’s where he found Christianity, which he says has “changed and shaped my life so positively.”

About the same time, Brian went to prison for a couple of years. “I have no doubt that I deserved to be in prison at that time, but that’s where I learned to control my anger. In prison,” he says. When he got out, he went back to temp work until he hurt his back at his home in May 2007. Without being able to work and without workman’s comp, Brian has been trying to get approved for Social Security and other assistance since, which is not an easy undertaking.

Brian became “homeless” in August. It’s a vague term in his case, because August was only the point at which he couldn’t live with his other family, not actually when he lost his own place. Brian also lost his mom on November 1. He has seen a lot of pain this year.

But one positive is that he walked through the doors of the Denver VOICE. As Brian says, “I now know the meaning of my life. My mission is to make someone else’s life better. If we all did it, everyone would live much better lives.” Brian loves it that he gets to greet people everyday while vending—especially the mornings, his favorite time of the day.

Brian also says of the VOICE, “it gives us the opportunity to share. It’s a little community, if someone is hurting, we all come to together to make it better—even the most selfish of us vendors.” Brian has tapped into the immeasurable community of the VOICE Vendor Program. He hopes to someday go back to college and become a counselor. He wants to help ease the pain in this world, and with an ear like his, counseling is an appropriate and admirable goal.

Ken Barber

By Gretchen Crowe

If you visit the corner of 18th and California in the early weekday mornings, you might see a well-worn Broncos coat shielding a kind, thoughtful vendor, Ken Barber. A Denver native born April 30, 1961, Ken grew up in a happy family with two sisters and one brother. Ken was the oldest. His father worked manufacturing carpet cleaning machines, and his mother waitressed a bit, but was primarily a stay-at-home mom. His family moved around Denver and back to Toledo, Ohio, for a short time, but Ken was an average kid, going to Lowell Elementary, Flood Middle School, and then onto Arapahoe High School, where he graduated in 1980.

He played football during his sophomore year, but opted out of all but pick-up games, since he wasn’t played on the field that much. Like most young men, he had a passion for cars and he proudly talked of his first car, a 1965 Mustang 3-speed Coupe that he bought working as a dishwasher in a Mexican food restaurant, La Bolla, along with help from his dad. But Ken’s real passion is bowling. He was on several leagues. “I had a pretty good childhood—it was really easy for me then. I got in trouble a lot, but nothing bad, just like any normal kid.”

In 1982, Ken began working at King Soopers as a grocery clerk, and although he had a few jobs over the years, he remained in retail, aside from a short stint in manufacturing. Between King Soopers and Home Depot, Ken worked hard for fifteen years. He struggled with alcohol during that time, getting three DUI’s. It was a long road, but he talked with candor about his struggles and successes in his ongoing road to recovery. He still visits that road regularly, especially since Ken became homeless for the first time in July 2010.

In 1998, Ken bought his first home, a condo in Highlands Ranch, and it became a family project to help update it. Ken’s parents offered immeasurable help. Ken never married nor had children. “I just, well, I was too shy to talk to women. Still am. I guess I just didn’t want to get rejected. I have never been on a date.” Subsequently, his parents and his sister played much larger roles in Ken’s life, creating that needed safety net. He lived there for five years.

Around 2000, Ken’s safety net began to unravel when his father passed away on Halloween. Ken maintained working, but in 2002, he lost both his mother and his sister in three months. “Everything started going downhill and I got really depressed. It was the darkest time in my life. My bills fell behind and I lost the townhome in 2003.”

But in these dark times, Ken not only can tell the story of foreclosure and isolation, he can tell the story of reinvention. He has continued that struggle to earn a living, and walked into our doors having lost his job at 7/11.  “[The Denver VOICE] gives me a little self esteem. It helps me make money, and the people I have met really support what I do. And that makes me feel so good.” Ken would also like to say thank you to vendor Richard Wolfe. Richard moved to Seattle, opening up his corner for Ken to become the steward of 18th and California. •

Mike Martin

Mike Martin getting ready to vendBy Gretchen Crowe

We often interview vendors that hail from different cities around the country, but this month we are talking to a Denver native, Mike Martin. Born in August 1950 at Rose Medical, Mike’s father worked for Burlington Northern railroad and his mother worked in a bar. Her mother worked for Jonas Brothers Furs. He was an only child. His mom passed away from uterine cancer in her 30’s when Mike was young.

Mike attended East High School, graduating in 1968, and despite the times, never got into the burgeoning hippie movement. “I didn’t want any part of that at all!,” he said, “I was pretty quiet—no hippies, no drugs—just an average kid, I guess.” Mike is still soft spoken and unassuming, always throwing out, “Thank you dear” when he feels obliged. He is sincerely nice.

When Mike was a kid, he sold the Rocky Mountain News because, as he says, “all my family worked.” Most of Mike’s life has seen the ins and outs of Denver. Although he slyly claims the Minnesota Vikings as his football team, he says he has only traveled outside Denver on trips twice. He and a group that won a sales contest for the Rocky were sent to Anaheim, California for ten days. He said it rained the whole time, but the trip was still fun. He’s also traveled to Salt Lake City with his parents.

Mike started working out of high school at Denver Shippers in shipping and receiving, and when the union shut it down, they opened across the street as Colorado Shippers, where he continued to work until they were officially shut down by union violations. “They didn’t treat any of us very well.” But, Mike said it was still harder to lose his job when the union stepped in than to feel that their efforts had helped.

After Colorado Shippers he went to work for a temp agency for around five years. In hard times while working there and not being able to keep up his apartment, he talked of how he would pass the time by taking the bus back and forth. Back and forth after work, all night until 3:30 A.M. for his work shift, dozing on the longer rides and all of this to avoid sleeping outside and simply having somewhere to be. And then Mike came into our office.

About making ends meet with the VOICE, Mike said, “I enjoy it. [I] barely make ends meet, but I do make it. I love all my customers, and the job is less stressful. I really enjoy [vending] because I get to talk to a lot of nice people, professional people, not the riff-raff like on Colfax.”

Mike recently left an unfavorable living situation and has moved into a hotel. His hotel is $35 a night, which he exclusively pays for by vending the VOICE—he has never applied for outside assistance. Losing his father and best friend around seven years ago, Mike is quite isolated, telling of their passing with tears in his eyes. That “safety net” just isn’t there for him. But Mike isn’t jaded, he just works harder. About being alone, he says, “It’s not easy. Day to day, you know, it’s all I can do.”Mike Martin holds out a birthday cake. Mark Skinner and fellow staff members at the Office of Lieutenant Governor Barbara O’Brien threw him a party! Thanks to everyone who helped make his day extra special.

Bob Kaufer & Lovee Underhill

You might remember Lovee Underhill as a regular 300-club vendor on the 16th Street Mall over the last couple of years. Lovee always talked of her home in Florida and the nostalgia she had for her time there.  She celebrates sobriety and the positive friends she made there. So, in 2009, she decided to move home to Tampa. We wished her luck and health—and missing her dearly, off she went. She called us shortly after her arrival letting us know she had had what she called a mild heart attack, but something she still has to actively tend to maintain her health. We didn’t hear much back from her, but did catch wind of her struggles to stay afloat there.

In Tampa, the legislation is much more difficult on people living on the streets. There is no paper as a means of income, and Lovee even tried flying a sign for money—which is also illegal. She reunited with one of her friends, reconnecting after years, and on a dolphin boat he got on his knee and asked her to marry him. So fairytale!

So, in came “Beach Bum Bob.” Bob was originally from New Jersey, but had moved to Tampa over 15 years prior. He owned a trailer and their life seemed to be starting out together beautifully. But, even though he owned his trailer, the park where he lived had a no felon rule, and in Lovee’s previous life she carried that moniker and was not allowed to stay. Bob had a friend that had a truck and let Lovee sleep there. Bob sold his trailer and they lived in the truck together. Lovee truly disliked having to panhandle just to maintain.

It was a panicky time. No way to earn income,and being more and more marginalized from housing, the couple used the money from the trailer to get bus tickets back to Denver. It was a hard and bittersweet decision and a hard, four day bus ride back. They returned in May, spent the end of their money on a hotel for the month and both began selling the paper.  As an article in this issue talks about, finding family housing together is extremely difficult. The couple has had to use the last of their money for the more expensive option, a hotel, just to stay together.

Bob used to work in computers and also struggled with addiction, but alongside Lovee celebrates sobriety. He was a staple in Florida, and jokingly said, “My time there was the longest vacation in history.”  It was just over 15 years. He is a quiet and shy man, but never underestimate his humor and intelligence glimmering through those blue eyes. 

Lovee plans to officially change her name to Kaufer soon, and the couple’s love for each other is apparent. The beauty of this relationship is so simple in the fact that they’re together. But in the context of the obstacles they have faced, it is breathtakingly astounding. They take care of each other. They keep each other going as the fear of being on the streets is immanent without income from the paper. The Denver VOICE is a vehicle for them to succeed. Of course, it isn’t guaranteed, but with this couple’s conviction, they have a fighting chance. Lovee has expertise in selling and a history of a successful clientele base. Bob loves Lovee and will do anything to keep them together. •