Camden, N.J. Count The Homeless

The streets of this city are a place people end up when their lives fall apart. And the people who live there say that in the rough economy, they are finding they have more neighbors.

Homeless people stand outside a van in the rain Wednesday, Jan. 28, 2009, in Camden, N.J., as they wait to fill out census forms.

Social service workers and volunteers set out across Camden and the state as part of a homeless count they complete most years. The results of the census, along with those being conducted in all 50 states this week, are forwarded to the federal Department of Housing and Urban Development. In 2007, the last time every New Jersey county participated in the count, there were more than 17,000 people who met the government's definition of homeless, which doesn't include the nearly homeless, such as those staying temporarily with friends or family.
Nationwide, about 124,000 were counted two years ago. The state report from Wednesday's count will not be compiled for a few months and the federal one is not expected to be done until sometime next year. HUD officials say the tallies are useful for assessing the need for services and are not used to determine how much federal grant money each state or community receives.

After an overnight snowfall, Neil Floyd (left) warms himself near a fire Wednesday, Jan. 28, 2009, outside his tent in the small tent city where he lives with other homeless people in Camden, N.J.

For every homeless person counted this week, two to three times as many are homeless at some point during the year, said Alison Recca-Ryan, the director of the Corporation for Supportive Housing, which runs New Jersey's census. She said that there are signs that the state's homeless number will be up from previous years.
This week's count is the first nationwide one since a recession began more than a year ago. New Jersey's census comes as the state government is forming a panel to look at homelessness.
Social service agencies in every county were offering free services from medical checkups to haircuts to try to get people who live on the streets to a place where they could be counted — and where they can get help.
For the harder to reach, teams of workers were searching for those without homes. The stops included Tent City and the Walter Rand Transportation Center, where people lined up to answer survey questions in exchange for a bologna sandwich and candy.
A group from Volunteers of America strolled through Tent City not long after dawn Wednesday as a gentle snow turned into a bone-chilling frozen rain.
Outreach worker Hal Miller led the way through the maze of 15 abodes, which ranged from expensive camping gear to ragged tarps, and called into each in search of residents.
Tent City dwellers said they ended up in the woods because they felt they had no other place to go. They said that, as uncomfortable as it is, it's better than trying to live at a train station or in abandoned homes, which are numerous in a city that constantly ranks as one of the poorest and most crime-ridden in the country.
Twenty-six-year-old Jessica Massa, who is pregnant and has seven children living with family elsewhere, said she came to Camden from suburban Gloucester County a few months ago hoping to stay at a shelter. She said she was turned away because she didn't have a referral from a social service agency in her home county. Now, she uses blankets and Sterno candles to try to stay warm. A social service worker said she would get Massa prenatal care and a place to stay, if she wanted it.
Erwin James, 47, said he has been on the streets off and on since he was released from prison in 2006. He's been rejected by shelters, he said, because he was convicted of dealing drugs.
John Palumbo, a 53-year-old former heating and air conditioning technician from Mount Laurel, said he suffers from manic depression that led him to homelessness.
Floyd, a clean shaven former truck driver and father of three grown daughters who was wearing new-looking jeans, said that he hasn't had regular work since he had a kidney transplant 10 years ago.
In 2006, he said, his wife died. "I just couldn't keep up," he said. "I couldn't pay the bills when she died."
Floyd, who had lived in nearby Paulsboro, said he's been on the street for more than a year but still dreams of having a job and family again.
"I don't plan to stay outside for the rest of my life," he said.