The Brown & White

Charlie Beavens, a Bethlehem resident, was 57 when the video store he was managing in Reading, Pa., shut down. Beavens went out in search of work, but was turned down again and again because of his age. Within a year he was homeless.

Beavens is not alone. In 2006, there were 2,598 men, women and children in the Lehigh Valley who were homeless, according to the Lehigh Valley Coalition on affordable housing.

The homeless of Bethlehem can be seen wandering the streets, taking shelter under the New Street and Route 378 bridges or, if they are lucky, getting a spot in a local shelter. For Beavens, who is now 62, homelessness was a journey.

"[I] lived in the railroad, lived in the street; that was for a period of time," he said. "I got into the Old Rescue Mission … after that I hit the shelter in Reading then worked my way up to Allentown, so I'm done with missions and shelters."

Beavens is no longer seeking shelter, but he hasn't abandoned the shelters he once called home. He can now be found volunteering at New Bethany Ministry, Bethlehem's local homeless shelter, soup kitchen and food bank to help those in need.

These are the faces of poverty. They come in all colors, ages and genders; Lenny Heil, a 60-year-old white man who lost his job at Western Union after working there for 18 years, a 20-year-old intern, Sherita Branch, who grew up in the projects of Philadelphia with a drug addicted mother; 46-year-old Nina, a mother of three who was laid off in early April from her picking job at a factory.

In 2006, 36.5 million people in America lived in poverty, according to the U.S. Census Bureau, and almost 34,000 people in the Lehigh County live in poverty. The government makes that estimation based on a poverty line, which is set at $21,027 for a family of four.

Freddie Lee Allen Sr., 59, was once one of those statistics, but now he spends his days working at New Bethany. He smiles as he spoons mashed potatoes, ribs and green beans to the soup kitchen's lunch time visitors, greeting almost all of the 150 diners by name.

Allen wasn't always smiling though. At 18 he left home for Vietnam. When he returned one year later, his smile had disappeared.

"I went in as a young, adolescent school boy and came out an aggressive man," he said. "I figured the world owed me something."

The world didn't feel the same way. Allen turned to drugs and found himself out on the streets.

"I never felt so unnecessary in my life," he said. "I had no meaning, no purpose, like a microwave, now or never. I found life don't come that way. I found out just give life a chance and it will give you a chance."

Allen did give it a chance and entered as 12-step rehabilitation program through the Army. After six months of going to meetings everyday, Allen had pulled himself away from drugs. But he recognizes poverty and addiction is a cycle.

"It's hard to get out of the system," he said. "Once you are there it's like a merry-go-round. They do the same thing; it's not going to change."

The merry-go-round of poverty that Allen describes was a very real thing for Branch, who is now working toward a degree in social work after growing up in public housing in Philadelphia.

"I had so many people against me," Branch said. "I'm supposed to be pregnant, on welfare with no high school diploma … It just makes me so happy. I want to give back to the community."

As a child, Branch would make her way to school through streets littered with heroin needles and prostitutes waiting at corners.

"I've seen a man get shot, caps on the ground," Branch said. "You just look around you and you feel so low."

Branch remembers as a 5-year-old being dragged by her mom at 9 p.m. through the freezing cold to wait in endless lines at soup kitchens. Her mother, Branch explains, was a drug addict and never held a job.

"I had no respect for her," she said. "She was my guardian and she didn't do that so I blamed her. I don't look at her as being smart, she disgusts me."

Branch wasn't completely alone; at age 12 her oldest sister took her in and raised her as her own. Branch, always a good student, now attends a local community college in the Lehigh Valley, but her steep climb out of poverty is not over.

Branch, who interns at New Bethany but lives off of Stefko Blvd. and goes to school near the Promenade, explains it is difficult to find a job she could walk to and still balance school. But she feels like she doesn't have a choice.

"I feel like I'm alone," she said. "And then I have roommates who have parents who send them money and buy them cars. It makes me sad, maybe its jealousy. It just makes me realize how alone I am, but I'm going to get through this."

Branch's ability to stay motivated despite her past is a testament to her will, but Ellen Jacoby, associate director of New Bethany, said those who were raised in poverty without an education and a strong family unit often lack that motivation.

"Certainly there are many people who have come from poverty and raised their way up," Jacoby said. "Unless you have that self-motivation, chances are you won't pull yourself out and it is a cycle that keeps repeating and repeating."

Motivation is difficult, Frank said, especially when those around you are filled with feelings of inferiority, low self esteem and negativity.

People born into poverty aren't the only ones caught in the cycle. Lenny Heil was making $10.96 an hour at Western Union before the company folded and moved back to New Jersey. It was 1989; Heil owned a house, played guitar at local Bethlehem bars and restaurants and was married with a young daughter. Now Heil can often be found eating breakfast and lunch at New Bethany.

"Don't discriminate on poor people because things could happen in your life, things could change overnight," Heil said. "I was doing alright and I had a stroke … I can't work, can't have a job."

Heil's lone income is $123 a month from a pension from Western Union and a $1,200 a month check for disability after suffering a stroke. Paying $400 in rent for a house in South Bethlehem, Heil is financially sufficient, but the disability and loss of a job took an emotional toll.

"It's just the uncertainty of going day to day," he said. "A lot of loneliness, uncertainly. I'm sure most of these people have the same problem. I consider myself better off than lots of them."

In a world structured around money, Heil's self worth is associated with dollar bills.

"Money is like the root of all evil," Heil said. "If I was rich I'd have a girlfriend. If I was rich I'd have a house. Money can buy you happiness. I think it can, they say it can't, but I think it can."

If money is the root of all evil, then are the wealthy the bearers of this burden? David Ragsdale, a Bethlehem resident, believes this to be true.

"The rich believe America belongs to them, they believe they have the right," he said.

Ragsdale is referring to the 1 percentage of Americans who hold 33.4 percent of the nation's total net worth, according to a 2004 report by the Federal Reserve.

"How much profit is enough profit?" Ragsdale said. "Why does the guy who makes $300 million a year on Wall Street, why does he make $300 million?"

"For a long time I used to say 'they' and 'them.' They and them are people who believe they deserve $300 million a year."

Ragsdale said he doesn't have a problem being classified as poor - he grew up that way - but after holding different jobs and moving all over the country he is finding it difficult to find work in Bethlehem. Most low-wage jobs require a high school diploma, something Ragsdale doesn't have. He receives $300 a month from welfare, but it costs $70 to take the GEDs to get a diploma.

Although he's happy with a full stomach, Ragsdale worries about what poverty will do to his two teenage boys.

"It's hard for them," he said. "Because of modern technology they feel as though they are missing out on something. Now, if they don't have a computer, an Xbox, a skateboard. If they don't have these things they are bitter."

But Ragsdale made it clear; people who are poor no longer have a voice.

"Don't speak for the rich, speak for the poor," he said. "None of them ever get it."

But the upper and middle classes may never see the faces of the poor, Allen said.

"You forget about the other side," he said. "If you are born with a silver spoon in your mouth, with money, you don't know what money means."