PANHANDLERS IN D.C. REFLECT LIFE ON THE FRINGES

Louise scribbled the lyrics to Christmas carols on a wrinkled sheet of white paper, humming the words she had learned as a child, planning ahead for the holiday season, when people feel more kindly toward panhandlers.

Louise -- who goes by her first name only -- sings gospel songs, calls out friendly greetings and collects donations from the steady stream of office workers who pass her post outside the Farragut North Metro station on Connecticut Avenue NW. She is one of a growing number of panhandlers stationed on nearly every block in downtown Washington.

Some sing, preach, strum guitar or play a trumpet; passers-by say they are a colorful and harmless part of the streetscape. Other panhandlers, however, demand money and try to intimidate would-be donors by grabbing an arm or blocking the way.

Last month, about 25 merchants from businesses in the area around North Capitol and F streets NW met with District police to complain that street people who beg for money along F Street have assaulted some women office workers and discouraged customers from entering restaurants and hotels.

Daniel J. Coleman, owner of the Phoenix Hotel and the Dubliner restaurant, said he had to station doormen outside his hotel to keep aggressive panhandlers away from arriving customers.

"They come right up to my customers and demand money of them before they even get out of a taxi," he said.

Daphne Powell, office manager of the Information Industries Association, said she feels so threatened by panhandlers that she never leaves her building during the workday.

"I don't go out for lunch and I wait for my husband to pick me up at night," she said.

Police told the merchants that panhandlers cannot be arrested or ticketed because their behavior is not illegal in public space unless a beggar touches someone. Even then, police said, it is difficult to prove criminal intent. After the meeting, police added a second foot patrol officer to the area and officers with the police canine unit were asked to walk their dogs along the block.

Coleman and others said the increased police presence has greatly improved the situation, leaving fewer drunks and panhandlers hanging around the block.

Homeless rights advocate Mitch Snyder said aggressive panhandlers can and should be arrested on assault charges, but he defended the right of people to beg for money.

"Business people across the country are trying to rid areas of panhandlers," he said. "People are disturbed and angered by what they see on the street."

Snyder said Washington residents have become more compassionate toward the homeless, even though more people are begging on the streets. "They are out there begging because of the dramatic decrease in the number of houses built and the cutback in services," he said. "This was a long time coming and it will be much worse in the next two to three years."

A recent study by the National Institute of Justice attributes the increase in the number of street people nationwide to decisions in the 1960s and 1970s to discharge hundreds of thousands of mental patients from state-run psychiatric facilities.

The study also found that decriminalization of public drunkenness in many states reduced the use of jails as a way to remove chronic drunkards from the streets. In the District, police officers may not arrest anyone for being drunk in public; they may only seek to have them admitted to D.C. General Hospital's detoxification center. That decision is based on medical rather than public safety factors.

The study concludes that street people are more visible now because urban renewal has forced them away from out-of-sight parts of town and to parks and sidewalks frequented by the public.

Snyder, who succeeded in pushing the federal government to spend $6.5 million to renovate a surplus building in downtown Washington for the homeless, said he knows that some shelter residents are panhandlers by day.

"We can give them shelter and one meal," he said. "If they need something to eat or drink, they go out to panhandle. Its a rotten way to earn a living. You don't get rich doing that and it is degrading and embarrassing."

Earl T. Erving, a former circus worker, said he is uncomfortable calling himself a panhandler. After leaving Pennsylvania for Iowa a year ago, he ran out of money in Washington. Disabled by a chronic asthma condition, he lives at Snyder's shelter and spends his days sitting in a doorway near 15th and L streets NW.

Erving, 52, has no sign and asks no one for money. Still, people give him a few dollars each day.

"I have no choice but do this," he said. "I am a panhandler because I am an old man and I have only a seventh-grade education. But I am not a beggar. No ma'am. No way. If they offer me some money, I do take it."

Erving, who dresses carefully in clean, if mismatched, clothes, said he spends the few dollars he collects on soup and cigarettes.

Louise, who creates serapes from pieces of bright cloth and colorful head wraps from scarves, said she uses the money she is given for food.

When she has an extraordinarily good week, she splurges and stays at a hotel one night instead of at a shelter in Chinatown.

"Having a room to myself and a shower is very special," she said. "When I have enough money, that's what I do. Women need to have some space to themselves once in awhile. It makes me feel super."

Articles appear as they were originally printed in The Washington Post and may not include subsequent corrections.