Evidence of tough times emerges across all three of Delaware's counties
The worst economic downturn since World War II is evident across Delaware, from Wilmington neighborhoods to the homeless tent cities popping up in the shadows of million-dollar homes near the state's beach towns.
Evidence turned up earlier this month in a wooded corner of Cape Henlopen State Park north of Rehoboth Beach, where state park rangers ordered the removal of a cluster of tents and cited some homeless residents for illegal camping after complaints from the public.
"We've actually done it a couple of times: in mid-September and then maybe mid-October and again a couple of weeks ago," said Capt. Steve Savidge, regional ranger for the Department of Natural Resources and Environmental Control. "Some of the people we've encountered are just homeless, and that's a good place where they can get to the soup kitchens and everything on Route 1."
Even more striking are the human stories: the homebuilder out of work going on three years, parents deciding whether to buy food or pay the rent, folks just one crisis away from losing their home.
"I expect it to get worse before it gets better," said Tom Laymon, executive director of the Sunday Breakfast Mission in Wilmington. "We're not seeing an improvement in the economy, and we're not seeing our numbers go down."
Brother Ronald Giannone, founder and executive director of Wilmington's Ministry of Caring, said it's the worst he's seen in 34 years of helping the poor. "It's terrible," he said.
Even many of the people who still have jobs have seen their income drop and are giving less just as the need is increasing.
"People that were having difficulty in 2008, a lot of them are still having difficulty," said Patricia Beebe, CEO of the Food Bank of Delaware. "It sort of compounds and compounds and compounds."
The statistics help show why:
» Poverty is on the rise, according to the U.S. Census Bureau, with 12.1 percent of Delawareans -- a little more than one in eight -- living below the poverty line.
» The state's unemployment rate has hovered above 8 percent since May 2009 (Just last month, it fell to 7.9 percent). Delaware lost 33,000 jobs during the recession, and economists estimate it is adding about 3,000 jobs a year now.
» More than 200,000 Delawareans -- nearly one out of four people in the state -- are on Medicaid, the health insurance program for the poor, a 30 percent increase from 2008.
» During the same period, the number of people doubling up, those living with a friend or family member because of economic hardship, rose 22 percent.
That's true for Antoine Alpheaus and Debbie Martin, both 46, who turn onto a trail off the main highway and enter a marshy area in the shadow of Christina Towers and the city's Riverfront. They pass several other tents on the way to theirs, their home for the past 15 months.
They survive on $175 a month in government assistance.
Each has mental-health issues that make it hard to keep a job, but they take work anywhere they can. They say the economy has made it more difficult for them to find anything lately.
For those who lost their jobs more recently, who had been relying on extended unemployment benefits, last week's failure by a congressional supercommittee to cut $1.2 trillion from the federal deficit could take away their lifelines. If long-term unemployment benefits are allowed to expire, 9,500 Delawareans would lose weekly checks of about $245, said Tom MacPherson, director of the Division of Unemployment Insurance.
"There is a phase-out provision depending what tier they are on," he said. But after that extension ends, those benefits will cease.
For most of the long-term unemployed, that is their main source of income.
"It's pretty well agreed upon that unemployment benefits is money that does get put back into the economy," MacPherson said. "Recipients of unemployment insurance benefits use that money for necessities. They are certainly not saving it."
And in Delaware, they are not finding work as they see more jobs disappear.
"We were hit and hit hard," said Brian Selander, a spokesman for Gov. Jack Markell.
Selander said the loss of manufacturing jobs has been key.
"Manufacturing, for generations, has been one of the surest ways into the middle class," Selander said.
But with them gone, it becomes more difficult, and "it's very hard" to replace them.
A need in beach towns
It was about this time last year when Gary L. Andrews, of Georgetown, lost his job.
His 13 years in the military, his years of experience as a community newspaper circulation manager -- none of it mattered.
"If they're not making money, you're not making money," Andrews said.
He's been out of work since, "just hanging on."
As the recession drags on, Delaware's once-robust middle class has been ravaged.
One unexpected car repair, one medical emergency or a string of costly utility bills are all that stand between just getting by and living on the street or relying on friends and family for shelter.
"This is the new face of homelessness," said Susan Starrett, with the Homeless Planning Council of Delaware.
"Every one of us is probably one small crisis away from homelessness," she said. "We could all be in that situation."
She said it used to be that the majority of the homeless were in northern Delaware, and most suffered from substance abuse or mental illness.
Then the economy tanked.
Lewes, Rehoboth and Dewey are Delaware's most famous vacation destinations. Well-kept, expensive homes line their streets.
But a short distance away -- in parks, in the woods, behind department stores -- homeless tent cities have begun popping up.
There are no homeless shelters in the beach towns. The closest shelters are farther inland, in Milton and Georgetown, and they often have waiting lists.
But as the economy continued its downward spiral last spring, the Lewes Rehoboth Association of Churches recognized the desperate need and opened a resource center. From April 1 through the end of October, volunteers spent $95,000 to help 750 people with temporary housing, food and other basic needs, said Bennett Connelly, who leads the church association's Lend-a-Hand program.
But they barely scratched the surface of the problem.
"There's a lot more we could do," Connelly said.
There are reports of tent cities in wooded areas throughout coastal Sussex -- an area known more for its tax-free shopping and as a summer playground for visitors from Wilmington, Washington and Philadelphia. Not far from one tent city on state parkland, there are hundreds of condos and town houses -- vacation homes.
"People just don't believe there is a need here," Connelly said.
Savidge, the state ranger, said more forest camps have come to light in recent years shortly before and during hunting season, with members of the public and ranger patrols happening across makeshift settlements like the one broken up earlier this month.
"I think we only ever encountered two or three people, but there were probably four or five tents," Savidge said. "The people had been there for varying lengths of time, some maybe for a couple of weeks. There was a considerable amount of trash built up, so some of them had been there for a while."
It is hard to believe there can be such a need in a community with million-dollar oceanfront homes.
Yet, more than 21 percent of the jobs in Sussex County are in the service industry, according to census data collected in 2009. An additional 13 percent are in arts, entertainment, accommodations and food service.
On average, service-industry workers there earn $11.16 an hour and work about 28 hours a week, according to federal labor department data.
The livable wage for Delaware is $17 an hour.
Housing costs in coastal Sussex are high -- often well above the federal Department of Housing and Urban Development standard of $670 a month for a one-bedroom rental. An efficiency can rent for as much as $800 a month in the resort area -- and that is in the offseason.
All this means that some formerly middle-class families are joining the ranks of the unemployed and working poor.
In Sussex County, 11.2 percent of the population lives below the poverty line, which is $22,000 a year for a family of four.
Harder to determine are the number of homeless. Each January, a one-night, statewide survey is undertaken.
While most of Delaware's homeless are in New Castle County, on Jan. 25, 2011, 85 homeless were sheltered, five were unsheltered, six had motel vouchers and four were staying in motels without vouchers. The total number identified as homeless statewide was 1,405.
At Cape Henlopen School District, which includes children from Lewes and Rehoboth, there are 120 children identified as homeless this school year, said Randy Redard, the district's visiting teacher and homeless liaison. By the time the school year ends in June, that is expected to rise to 175 or 200.
Homeless students aren't always youngsters who don't have a roof over their heads. Some live in a crowded, multifamily situation, have moved repeated times or may not be living with a family member.
Redard said he's been in two-bedroom, one-bathroom homes where families have doubled up. In June, he visited an 85-year-old woman who was raising her great-grandson. Her electricity had been cut off, and she ran an extension cord from her mobile home to a neighbor's just to keep the refrigerator running. There was no air conditioning or fans.
"You have people sleeping in rooms that are not bedrooms, people sleeping on floors," and much of it stems from economic hardship, he said.
Among the incongruities is that people will lose a lease rather than give up a car or cellphone.
Starrett said transportation is critical in a place like Sussex County, where there are limited public-transportation options and, in a pinch, people can sleep in their cars.
Struggling to just get by
Donna Brown, 23, of Wilmington, is struggling to make ends meet.
She lives with her mother and, in October, started selling candy to people as she walked her two daughters, 4-year-old Irene Nichole and 7-year-old Indi, to school. The money she makes, she puts away for her daughters' education.
She had been going to school to become a dental assistant but had to stop to prevent going further into debt.
"This [selling candy] is helping me out a great deal," said Brown. She said she gets by with help from her family. She also prays a lot.
"I'm a strong believer in faith. It's what's taken me through."
As she walks her girls to St. Michael's School at Seventh and Walnut streets, she carries a box and gives people a standard line:
"Hi, good morning. Me and the girls are asking that you would make a small donation toward our tuition. We can accommodate you with either a fruit snack or a candy bar. If you can't today, then maybe I'll see you tomorrow."
Brown gets different responses. Everything from rejections to buyers to people dropping a dollar or two without taking a candy.
One of Brown's Tuesday customers was Melody Roberts, 17, who was waiting for a bus.
"I'm a sucker for charity," Roberts said as she held on to her umbrella and put away the fruit bars she purchased. "I just know that if I was in that situation, I would wish that someone would help me out."
Roberts said she can understand.
"Just a month ago, I had a car," she said. "And I couldn't pay for it, so I had to get rid of it. Now I have to get on the bus every day to go to school or go to work or anything like that. It really sucks."
Nearby, Ron Jones often hangs out with his fiancee, Amanda, under the Amtrak overpass.
Jones has been without a job and steady roof over his head for close to 10 years now. The 54-year-old lost his truck-driving job when his fiancee suffered a stroke and he had to care for her. Johnson said it has gotten harder for people like him to get jobs that help him get some extra cash.
The high unemployment rate also makes it harder for homeless people to compete for jobs.
In his decade of not having a steady shelter, Jones said, this is the worst he's seen it.
"There really is no help out here," he said. "Without the [Sunday Breakfast] Mission being around for the men and for the families to go into, there is nothing around," he said. "It's hard on all of us."
Laymon said his Sunday Breakfast Mission has struggled to keep up with the demand.
"About two and a half years ago ... we saw the numbers climb because of the recession," Laymon said. "It plateaued at that higher number, basically staying high for two to two and a half years.
"About three months ago, we saw another climb so that our numbers all of a sudden went up another 10 to 15 percent of those coming in for our evening meals and those calling for food boxes."
Laymon said people are responding to the mission's plea for help, but the demand remains and, at times, they are even greater than what people can help with.
"For us, it's a matter of faith and prayer," he said. "We're just constantly going to our knees and saying, 'Lord, will you help us through this?' "
Beebe, the Food Bank of Delaware's CEO, said the nonprofit's needs have increased, and it has become more creative to keep up. Today, it touches one in four Delawareans.
"What we've really just been doing is just being as creative as we possibly can be," Beebe said. "Just thinking of everything and trying everything we possibly can as a way to get the community to respond."
Even these agencies have had their limits.
In addition to layoffs and job freezings, Giannone said the Ministry of Caring has furloughed workers.
"We're all in the same situation," he said. "It's tough."
Capital not immune
No part of the state has been immune from the downturn, even the capital, where government and health care -- not manufacturing and the financial sector -- are the economic engines.
But like in New Castle and the beach resorts, Kent County is struggling to keep up with a steady flow of new clients.
"We get between 20 and 30 calls a week beyond what we can handle," said Jeanine Kleimo, chair of the board of directors for the Dover Interfaith Mission for Housing.
Kleimo's organization, which houses homeless men only, started out as a winter program that rotated between several local church facilities, offering meals and a warm place to sleep.
Now, the organization has a permanent facility on the west side of downtown Dover, where it serves meals and has 33 beds.
Shelter guests, as Kleimo refers to the men, also receive job counseling and access to low-rent transitional housing once they have income.
She said many of the guests were living paycheck to paycheck, forced onto the street because of a layoff.
"They don't have any savings, they're one paycheck away from disaster, they get evicted, and they have nowhere to go," she said.
On the other side of Dover, The Shepherd Place provides shelter for homeless women and children.
Executive Director Diane Cahall said her facility is always full. Last month, she said, 142 women and 187 children were on the waiting list.
Many clients end up on the street after a family breakup, Cahall said.
"I think with a lot of pressures in the world today, there's a lot of couples splitting up; there's too many pressures, and all of a sudden, a woman will find herself alone with children and nowhere to stay," she said.
Dover native Dana Benson never dreamed he'd be facing homelessness when he returned home after living and working for years in Sacramento, Calif.
After his mother died, Benson shared a rented apartment, but the people he was living with moved, forcing him out, too.
Even though he has a steady job at General Foods in Dover, Benson couldn't afford the rent.
Luckily, he found the Interfaith Mission and moved in Sept. 1.
"I had some savings, so I was renting a room. It was, like, $400 a week, and it became too much for me to bear," he said. "I called around for shelters, and they accepted me and allowed me to come in."
Benson said no one is prepared for homelessness.
"I've always had a stable environment, always been in a stable situation. It doesn't make a difference what financial state you are in; things happen," he said. "I really don't think anyone can predict what the future holds for them."
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