April 15, 2007
For homeless, cellphone can be a 'lifeline'
Palm Beach Post
By Sonja Isger
Earl doesn't have a job. Doesn't have a home. But he does have a cellphone.
He figures he couldn't live without it.
"I've used it to make doctor's appointments, call about jobs - I'll be using it for the next two days to get my taxes done," said Earl, 56, a former used-car salesman now reduced to eating free lunches at St. Gregory's Episcopal Church in Riviera Beach.
At least six other homeless diners in the hall this day are packing cellphones as well - one is plugged into an outlet on the far wall. At Westgate Tabernacle in suburban West Palm Beach, the Rev. Alan Clapsaddle counted eight cellphone owners among the church's 141 homeless guests.
For those who can scrape together enough cash, a cellphone ranks right under food and temporary shelter as a priority.
"While it may seem like a luxury to some, for the homeless it can be a lifeline," Clapsaddle said.
Why? Well, jobs for one.
Twenty-eight-year-old Linn Franklin uses his Nokia to call on the Sunday help-wanted ads and leaves his number with employers who might call back later with work.
He said he also uses it to check on the status of his food stamps.
Want to find out where to get free food in Palm Beach County, who serves a lunch, who gives out clothes? Dial 2-1-1. Need help getting off the street? Unless you run into someone from the county's Homeless Outreach Team when they're in the field, the only way to hook up is to make an appointment by phone.
"A day's work in the labor pool will pay your phone bill for a month," said Franklin, who dines at one church and sleeps in another. He said he has MetroPCS's base service, about $35 a month.
People who work with the homeless say many more buy phones with prepaid minutes, as cheap as $20 at Wal-Mart. When the minutes run out, the card can be replaced, no need for a billing address.
The prepaid minutes also keep the cash-strapped from running up bills they later can't pay, said Michael Stoops, executive director of the National Coalition for the Homeless.
Though no one is keeping count of how many homeless own cellphones, Stoops agrees that's it's becoming more common as the price goes down and the old pay-phone standbys disappear.
"New technology of all sorts - the Internet, e-mail at the public libraries, cellphones - has been a blessing for homeless people," Stoops said. "It's become a way of life, a priority for them to connect with life."
As proof of the demand for such a connection, Stoops points to a nonprofit in Seattle called Community Voice Mail that was born out of social workers' frustrations at not being able to reach their clients.
The group helps communities create voice-mail systems for the homeless. It began more than a decade ago and now provides 41,000 people in 37 cities, including Orlando and Clearwater, with a voice-mail box and a dedicated number for each where potential employers and relatives can leave messages.
Still, they must dial in to get those messages, said Steve Albertson, director of new initiatives for Community Voice Mail, whose research indicates about 20 percent of clients use cellphones.
"Some are still very costly," Albertson said, noting that the organization's average client earns only about $400 a month, while service can cost upward of $20 or $30.
That someone with little or no income is willing to dole out a not-so-small sum to pay to talk to people does not surprise Seth Heine, founder of the nonprofit CollectiveGood, which recycles used and discarded cellphones.
He created CollectiveGood after a business trip to Brazil and Panama in 1999. While the family incomes in those countries averaged less than $4,000 a year, people were lining up to buy cellphones that started at $250. Both countries lacked a decent system of land lines, and the residents were looking for any means to stay in touch, he recalled. CollectiveGood now sells recycled phones in those countries for $25 or so.
"The homeless person's paradigms are not much different," Heine said. "And it's becoming increasingly difficult for a homeless person to find a phone."