Can You Spare a Dime -- for Bail?

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By the A.C.L.U.'s count, Seattle authorities can cite about 30 statutes when arresting someone for interfering with a pedestrian. Mayor Royer argues that the new law is much easier to enforce than previous ordinances. Precisely, say critics, who contend that the crackdown on aggressive panhandling is merely an excuse for the city to make the homeless less conspicuous. "Sure, no one likes to deal with folks lying all over the sidewalks," says Joe Martin, a social worker at the Pike Market Community Clinic. "But the question is, Why are they there?"

Seattle is not the first city to outlaw belligerent begging. New York City prohibits begging on the subways, although enforcement is sporadic. California cities rely on a state law against "accosting" people for money in public. Last April, Portland, Ore., passed legislation similar to Seattle's. Rather than specifically target begging, however, Portland forbids offensive physical contact or behavior that might cause a person reasonably to fear such contact. Unlike Seattle's law, Portland's solution has stirred little controversy. "It's a law that applies equally to obnoxious upper-class people coming out of a bar and hassling women," says Richard Meyer, executive director of Burnside Community Council, a local homeless-advocacy group.

While authorities in other cities are watching Seattle with interest, most are content to rely on existing laws rather than introduce new ones. Faced with well over 350,000 homeless wandering the streets in search of food and shelter, cities cannot hope to get rid of beggars. The problem isn't panhandling, says Patrick Murphy, director of the police policy board of the U.S. Conference of Mayors and former New York City police commissioner. "It's an entire social structure. Without proper housing, there is little hope for a solution."

So far, only about half a dozen people have been charged under Seattle's new law, but the city's panhandlers have been put on notice -- and are noticeably less aggressive. "If I'm asking for trouble, then I'll get it," says Danny LaJoie, sitting cross-legged on a street corner, a cup of loose change at his feet. From his back pocket, LaJoie pulls out a black-and-white postcard showing four drunks slumped against a building. It reads, "Greetings from Seattle . . . America's most livable city!" These days the joke just isn't the same.