Sunday, March 26, 2000
From homeless to hopeful
Wendell Williams inspires folks by talking about the hard times he's seen
BY JIM KNIPPENBERG
The Cincinnati Enquirer
This is a turn-around: Wendell Williams is chomping a 'burger in the front window of Pig Al's, watching downtown workers scramble back to the office.
Most of the time, he's outside a restaurant, armed with a stack of StreetVibes, explaining to well-fed diners why they need to read the Cincinnati newspaper paper he calls “the voice of the homeless.”
Mr. Williams is one of the homeless. But not hopeless.
As he points out: “I put a different face on homelessness. Middle class childhood, I had my own room growing up, catholic grade school and high school, college graduate.
“But I ended up in all the places I thought I'd never be — eating out of dumpsters, sleeping behind bushes and in the back of abandoned cars, park benches, once on a bridge in Dayton, using newspapers as blankets, wondering how did I get here?”
Fair question.
He's 49 with a bachelor's degree in early childhood education; he's articulate, thoughtful and, for 26 years, a successful sales exec at half a dozen radio stations in Dayton, Detroit, Norfolk and his hometown of Washington, D.C.
This is the face of homelessness?
“Then I fell into the abyss of alcoholism and mental illness. That's the face of homelessness.
“I got sober in '89, moved to Detroit in '92 and started drinking again. I slipped off the map. Disappeared. Things that couldn't get worse got much worse.
“My last suicide attempt was 1995 in Detroit. I tried to jump out a 20th floor window, but the 3-inch glass wouldn't break. Next thing I'm in a hospital thinking, "I'm such a loser I can't even kill myself right. Talk about a screw-up! I botched my own suicide.' That makes you feel real good about yourself.”
Mr. Williams got sober in '96 and moved to Cincinnati amid “an affair of the heart. I moved in with her, but it didn't work out and I was homeless again.”
He lived at Tender Mercies, the Drop-In Center and Mount Airy Center, the Hamilton County's Human Services Department facility where he lives today. And remains sober.
“Here's a guy who was sleeping on a park bench five years ago, now a sought-after speaker who can educate people with my story.”
People such as Xavier University students in Bill Daily's cultural diversity class, where Mr. Williams speaks three or four times a semester. People at retreats run by XU's Peace and Justice Center. High school and Catholic church groups here and in Dayton and Columbus — “can you believe they want me? A former catholic who slept on park benches?”
But they do want him. As Mr. Daley says, “He is tremendously well-received. He's articulate and he has a powerful message — that "you don't think this can happen to you — but look at me. If it can happen to me, it can happen to you.' I have students sitting there wide-eyed.
“He has been a blessing to our students — and to me.”
Still, you have to wonder: What sent him from a park bench to the head of the class?
“StreetVibes. It changed my life. It's more than a newspaper. It's a nationwide movement to empower the homeless. And it reminded me I'm good at something. I can sell.”
StreetVibes, circulating 5,000 copies a month, is one of 53 member papers of the North American Street Newspaper Association. Produced and sold in large part by the homeless, it's a 16-page monthly tab full of news about and for the homeless — the new problem of rural homelessness; poems and short stories by the homeless; profiles of shelters and soup kitchens; stories about activists; success stories about the homeless.
Success stories like Wendell's ...
“I met Don Whitehead (Greater Cincinnati Coalition for the Homeless director) at a very low point. I was living at the Drop-In Center and not feeling good about myself. He taught me to love myself again and encouraged me to get involved.”
Involvement meant StreetVibes. “The Cincinnati edition had been a couple pages in The Cleveland Grapevine, but Don was getting a real paper going. He got me out selling it.”
Selling indeed. In the most hideous weather Cincinnati tosses out — cold, snow, rain, blistering Augusts — he's there, selling at $1 a copy.
A typical day has him downtown at Sixth and Vine (“I have a vendor's license”) 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Then, it's the Central Parkway YMCA 'til 5:30 and, on a short day, home to Mount Airy.
On a long day, he treks to Nicholson's, Jeff Ruby's or Rock Bottom Brewery to catch early diners on their way out. Then, maybe about 9 p.m., to Carol's on Main for late diners. Then about 11 or so up Main Street to catch the bar crowd.
“By then, there's no public transportation back to Mount Airy, so I stay at the Drop-In Center.
“Being in the same place every day, it allows me to sell more, true, but it also allows me to talk one-on-one to people and give them a perspective about what's going on with homelessness. People think it must be important if I'm willing to stand out there day after day, all winter long.
He says his best location is Carol's. “Sales are good, but people coming out, their attitude is so open and sympathetic. They spend the dollar, usually more, and they're willing to listen to my pitch on the cause.
“My worst location is Ruby's. These are people God has obviously blessed, but they just shrug you off. That's something I've noticed: The greater the affluence, the less the empathy. You know they're thinking, "I made it. Why can't you?'
“Well, because most grew up with no advantages and at this point in life have no safety net — no family or support network. Add in alcoholism and mental illness and that's why.
“Like I said, StreetVibes is more than a paper. It's a platform to disseminate news that wouldn't be a priority for the mainstream press, but news that's important to us. It allows us to articulate our views.
Even more important, he says, is the opportunity to develop skills that can be used in other jobs. “I know it because of what it's done for me. I have new confidence, I have hope and I'm dreaming again. Dreaming about possibilities, not about killing myself.
“I'm dreaming the dreams I had when I was 25.”
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