Extreme Change

by Gary Beck

  Kiesha had been listening intently, "Maybe I can get a job as a waitress, if we need extra money. For a while I did exotic dancing and my mom watched the kids. The guys were always coming on to me and the boss wanted me to get high with him, so I quit. I need another year and a half of computer training, then I can get a good job."

  Beth was moved by this brave girl’s refusal to be discouraged, "We’ll help you get back to school, as soon as we’re established at the King Charles."

  "You’re sure we’re going to be sent there?"

  "Yes, Kiesha. I’m sure."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because we’re determined people and we know what we want. You’ve seen the people at the E.A.U. Most of them have been beaten down by the system. The social workers and Homeless Services staff push them around because they don’t know how to stand up for themselves. We’re not going to let them abuse us and our will is stronger than theirs, as long as we stick together."

  "What if they refuse to give us services?"

  “We’ll stay here until they do."

  "And if they have us arrested?"

  "We’ll call the media."

  "You’re one tough bitch, missy."

  Beth grinned, "I’m learning."

  They hadn’t seen Mr. Franconi for a while and when he popped his head out to see what they were doing, Beth called, "Hi there, Mr. Franconi."

  The rest of the adults called, "Hi there, Mr. Franconi."

  Then the children started chanting over and over, "Hi there, Mr. Franconi." He disappeared faster than a puppet at a marionette show.

  Peter raised his hands to silence the children, then said, "That was very nice to see you do that together. Do you think you could do it again if we asked you to?"

  "Sure," Pablo said confidently. "Do you want us to show you?"

  "Not now, but we’ll tell you what we want you to say later, if we need to."

  Beth grinned at him, "I see you’re getting them ready for the children’s crusade."

  "Why not? They’re bright kids. If it comes to a real confrontation, a bunch of young kids might make a big difference, as long as we don’t put them at risk of getting hurt."

  "I’m glad you’re feeling better, Peter. It’s good to see you involved again."

  "I’m sorry if I was out of it for a while. I’ll try harder."

  "That’s all right, baby. Things should be easier once we get to the King Charles."

  The children were sitting in a circle, playing some kind of action figure game that Beth found completely incomprehensible.

  Mr. Franconi came in and announced, "It’s twenty to five. The office closes at five o’clock." It was obvious who the message was meant for, but everyone ignored him. He repeated, "The office closes at five o’clock." When he still didn’t get a response, he looked at Beth. "I know you heard me. This is our last chance to settle this pleasantly. What do you intend to do at five o’clock?"

  "That depends on you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "If you agree to send us to the King Charles, we’ll go there quietly. If not, we stay here."

  "You can’t stay here."

  "Why not?"

  "We’ll be closed."

  "That’s all right. We’ll sleep here."

  "You can’t do that."

  "Why not?"

  "This is a business office."

  "So is the E.A.U. in the Bronx. You let us sleep on the floor there. Did you ever see how filthy that place is? It’s not sanitary for adults, let alone children."

  "We’re trying our best," he said weakly. "There’ve been so many people seeking shelter this winter that we’re overloaded."

  Beth realized that he was feeling cornered and pushed harder. "That’s no excuse for the inhumane conditions. You’re supposed to be helping people, not degrading them. All we want is a place that’s safe for our kids, until we can get our own apartments."

  "We have procedures and regulations to follow."

  "We’ve been through them. We’re not going to a motel from hell."

  "We can’t send you wherever you want to go. What if everyone demanded special treatment?"

  "Then I hope you’d be more responsive to their needs."

  "This isn’t getting us anywhere. If you don’t leave this office at five o’clock, we’ll have to call the police and they’ll arrest you for trespassing."

  Beth looked at him fiercely, "Then we’ll just have to phone the media and tell them that you’re putting homeless families with children in jail, because they refuse to be warehoused in sleazy motels, full of drug dealers and prostitutes."

  He looked at her carefully and realized that she wasn’t going to give in. A quick glance at the others confirmed that they were equally resolved. "I’ll talk to the commissioner again."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Kiesha was worried that Mr. Franconi was stalling until the police arrived. Hector reminded her that they were prepared for that possibility, and if it happened, they would deal with it as best they could. The children were behaving incredibly well, but it was only a matter of time after being confined for hours in a restricted space, before their youthful exuberance would erupt. The adults were in the state of calm that followed their reaching the point of no return. They knew that they would either achieve their goal of being sent to the King Charles or go to jail. After all their heart searching and decision making, the prospect of going back to the E.A.U. was unacceptable. They briefly discussed their course of action if they were arrested, then watched the clock on the wall behind the secretary’s desk tick off the last few minutes to five o’clock. Peter whispered some final instructions about how to non-violently resist arrest and they sat back and waited.

  At five o’clock, the secretary’s phone rang and she picked it up and listened intently. A smile lit up her face and she gave Beth a triumphant thumbs up. She hung up and announced, "Mr. Franconi has instructed me to inform you that the commissioner has approved your transfer to the King Charles Hotel. He requests that you return to the E.A.U. until official arrangements can be made in the next day or so."

  "Please thank the commissioner for his decision," Beth said, "but inform him that we won’t go back to the E.A.U. We appreciate his thoughtfulness, but we’ll just have to stay here until we can go to the King Charles."

  The secretary winked, then picked up the phone and related Beth’s statement. She listened for a minute, then said, "Mr. Franconi is calling the King Charles to make sure there’s room for you."

  "Please thank him for us and tell him that we need to be on the same floor in adjoining rooms."

  The secretary whispered again, then listened, "He says he’ll arrange it and do you need anything else."

  "One last thing," Beth said. "Tell him we want this arrangement in writing, signed by the commissioner."

  There was a lengthy silence after the secretary relayed the request. A few minutes later Mr. Franconi came out of the inner office with a sheet of paper. He handed it to Beth. "I hope this is satisfactory. The commissioner already left for an appointment."

  "We didn’t see him leave," Beth said.

  "He has a private entrance."

  "We’ll remember that, in case we have to come back here." She turned and read the note aloud to her friends, "It’s on the official letterhead of the Department of Homeless Services. ‘January 12, 2001. The following families -- there are blank spaces for our names -- are to be provided with temporary shelter at the King Charles hotel, on East 28th Street, in Manhattan, until the families can make other arrangements for permanent housing. Signed, Anthony Franconi, administrative assistant to the commissioner.’ Thank you, Mr. Franconi. Now if you can provide us with transportation, we’ll be on our way."

  He grunted, "I’ll arrange for a van to take you there."

  When he picked up the phone, Beth added, "There’s one more thing, Mr. Franconi."

  He looked up wearily. "What is it?"

  "We don’t have any money for dinner."


  "I’ll issue you some food stamps and three days worth of McDonald’s vouchers for all of you." The children cheered lustily and the adults began to relax.

  About ten minutes later, the secretary told them the van was downstairs, waiting for them. As they picked up their belongings and herded the children to the door, April said, "I wish you all the best of luck." The sullen looking security guards ushered them to the elevator, then out the front door to the van.

  It was the height of rush hour, and stressed citizens surged from the temples of finance for the uncomfortable trek home. No one looked happy. The van crept through congested streets and they stared out the windows, gaping like visitors from another planet. Everyone they saw looked prosperous. The driver took the East River Drive and they slowly inched their way uptown. Other drivers and passengers stared at them curiously, as if they were some sort of disreputable creatures being transported into captivity.

  Peter whispered to Hector, "What are they all staring at?"

  Hector leaned closer so the children wouldn’t hear, "Us. They can see the Department of Homeless Services sign on the side of the van."

  "That doesn’t make us freaks."

  "It does to them."

  The sun had set and looking out the windows, the cityscape seemed even stranger in the gathering darkness. The driver took the 23rd Street exit off the highway, and traffic was still heavy.

  When they crept past 1st Avenue, Kiesha called out, "Look. There’s a McDonalds. Let’s eat now, so we don’t have to go out later."

  The children started chanting, "We’re hungry. We’re hungry."

  Miss Lily had been sitting in the front seat, chatting with the driver. She leaned over and whispered to him for a moment, then announced, "Tyrone will wait for us while we get something to eat, then he’ll take us to the hotel." The children cheered, reminding the adults how simple it sometimes was to satisfy youth. The McDonalds was the usual sterile dispensary of marginally edible ‘fast food’ that catered to the non-posh dining crowd. Although the food was of little redeeming nutritional value, it was a glorious feast to the children, who had been subsisting on unappetizing surplus food. The adults enjoyed the burgers, shakes and fries almost as much as the children. Even Beth, who had a life-long dislike of fast foods, ate heartily. When they finished, Peter ducked out first and went to a supermarket around the corner, where he bought a large bag of M and M’s. When they trooped back to the van, Peter distributed the candy to the children, who munched away contentedly.

  The van pulled up in front of the King Charles Hotel. It was completely dark by now and the dimly lit street was grim and forbidding. All the other buildings seemed closed and deserted. The construction scaffolding next door added to the gloom. The battered canopy helped disguise the dingy façade of the hotel. There was no doorman in an elaborately gold-braided uniform to welcome them. They straggled up a few steps into the dreary, cramped lobby, where an Asian man sat behind a plastic-shielded counter. He was talking on the phone and didn’t look up at them. They waited patiently for a few minutes, but he showed no sign of recognizing them.

  After another minute, Beth said, "Excuse me."

  He put down the phone and looked at her condescendingly, "Yes?"

  "Mr. Franconi sent us. You’re supposed to have rooms for us on the same floor, adjoining each other."

  He looked as if he bit into something bitter. "Oh, yes. We did get a call about you. You make a lot of trouble for us. We had to move two families to make room for you. This is not a resort hotel. You can’t do whatever you want here."

  Hector was getting impatient with his attitude, "We know how much the city pays you for these rooms, so don’t give us a hard time."

  The man glared at Hector, but before anything unpleasant could start, Beth asked, what’s your name, please?"

  He answered surlily: "Mr. Singh."

  "We’re all tired, Mr. Singh. If you could give us our keys, we’d like to go to our rooms."

  Apparently, this was the right approach, because he rummaged in the cubbies behind him, pulling out keys. "You are on seventh floor. We had to move two families to accommodate you. Do not create further problems." He handed them the keys and they took the graffiti-covered, creaky elevator to the seventh floor. The narrow corridor had a chipped, stained marble floor that hinted of pretensions past. The walls were a flaking, stained, bile green that hadn’t been painted in years. They had been assigned rooms 701-704, which were at one end of the hall. After inspecting the rooms, they agreed that the families of four, Beth’s and Miss Lily’s, should have the larger rooms and they moved into their new homes.

  Beth and Peter looked around the bleak confines of the tiny space of room 703. The walls were a streaked, murky green, with dirt encrusted craters in the plaster. The floor was covered with old linoleum darkened from years of varied droppings. The ceiling may once have been white but was now smudged gray. The furnishings consisted of a scratched metal bed, a scarred wooden dresser, a cigarette burned night table with an almost retro lamp, and a tattered old blue velour armchair.

  Jennifer asked in disgust, "Are we going to live here? It’s ooky."

  Beth hugged her. "It’ll only be for a little while, until we can move back to our apartment. We’ll fix it up. You’ll see." Jennifer wasn’t consoled, but she didn’t say anything. Peter opened one of the two doors in the room on a small, musty closet murky enough to house bats. The other door was to the bathroom, a tiny space with rusty fixtures. Peter went in and tried the faucets. After a horrible screeching noise that pierced through the ears and shocked the brain, the water flowed in a noisy, rattling, irritating sound.

  Peter put his hand under the flow. "At least we have hot water."

  The Harmon’s room needed a thorough cleaning, and Peter verified that the rest of the group wanted to clean their rooms. He went to the deli across the street and bought a batch of cleaning supplies. The clerk reluctantly accepted the food stamps but overcharged for the service. It took almost an hour, but after major exertions, with even three-year-old Andy pushing the sponge mop, the floor, walls, ceiling, closet and bathroom were pronounced disinfected. Peter passed on the mop and some supplies to Kiesha, then helped his family clean the furniture. They had to wait in the hall for the dust from the armchair to settle, but after a quick wipe down, the room was deemed acceptable. Beth refused to sleep on the sheets until they were thoroughly washed, but Peter shook the blankets out the window and they put them on the bed. Beth decided the adults would sleep on the bed, and the children would nest on the floor until they could get cots. The room had been freezing cold, but Peter had turned on the radiator and after surly clanks and hissing protest it was becoming pleasantly warm. Beth had been thinking about a shower since they came in and she slipped into the tiny stall with a sigh of pleasure. She had to dry herself with paper towels, but at least the clammy grit of the E.A.U. was gone.

  The Harmons now felt ready to face their neighbors and went into the hall and knocked on their doors. Kiesha and Hector had finished cleaning, but Miss Lily was still toiling away. Beth helped her and in a little while they were done. They assembled in the hall so they could talk and monitor the children. The girls were sent to play in Miss Lily’s room and the boys went to Hector’s room, where they started some kind of noisy action figures game. The adults stared at each other shyly, not certain for the moment how to continue their desperately formed friendship.

  Miss Lily was obviously tired and leaned against the wall. Beth noticed and asked, "Do any of you have a chair in your room? Miss Lily needs to sit down."

  Kiesha popped into her room and came out with an old kitchen chair that had been sloppily painted so many times that you could see the various layers of color. "Sit here, Miss Lily."

  "Thank you, chile. It’s been a long day for me."

  Kiesha said with a tired smile, "It’s been a long day for all of us, but at least we’re out of that E.A.U."

  They chatted casually for a while, co
ngratulating each other on the success of their sit-in, then discussed their immediate needs. Peter suggested they ask Mr. Singh for cots and he, Kiesha and Hector went down to the lobby to try to get them. Beth mentioned that there wasn’t much more they could do that night. In the morning they could take the kids to McDonalds for breakfast, check out the neighborhood and shop at a supermarket for breakfast and lunch for the next few days. They wouldn’t be able to enroll the children in school until Monday, so Sunday would be a day of rest. The cot crew came back with only three children’s cots and they were allotted to the girls. Mr. Singh had begrudgingly promised to get six more cots by tomorrow afternoon, so they looked forward to better sleeping arrangements the next night. Miss Lily suggested that they visit a thrift shop on Monday and try to get a hot plate, some pots and pans, and clothes for anyone who needed them. Beth mentioned she could use towels and everyone else said they could also. Kiesha started a list and it grew rapidly, until Peter reminded them that they didn’t have any cash, so most of it became an ‘as soon as possible’ list.

  It was after nine p.m., so by common consent they collected the children and took them to their rooms to put them to bed. This was the first relative privacy they had for a while and they really enjoyed closing the door to their own room, and not having to go down the hall to the bathroom. Jennifer wanted to know how much longer they’d have to stay there, but she was easily appeased. Andy curled into his nest and instantly fell asleep. Beth and Peter sat quietly on the bed until Jennifer fell asleep, then they discussed the events of the day in whispers. They were both glad to be out of the E.A.U. and even happier not to be in one of the drug motels, but Peter had some misgivings about the King Charles. When Beth pressed him to explain he couldn’t come up with anything specific, but he described an uneasy feeling about the place. Beth didn’t know whether he was being paranoid, or if he was aware of something without quite being able to put his finger on it. She had been through enough shock recently not to dismiss his feeling, so she made a mental note to be more aware of her surroundings. They tucked the children in, then went into the hall to speak to their friends.