Sgt. Dwaine Coverson stands outside the back door of a Wallingford office building, cracking sunflower seeds as he talks about a new part-time job that's a sign of bad times in Seattle.
Coverson is retired. He spent 29 years with the Seattle police force and says he'd rather be golfing. But three days a week, he shows up at the FamilyWorks Food Bank and Resource Center to keep things orderly in the line -- and break up fights.
Thursday before last, Coverson says, he had to break up a fistfight that erupted in the building's lobby, then separate another set of combatants who were pepper-spraying each other outside the back door. The same day, he says, Seattle police were called after a man threatened one of the workers at the Seattle Public Library branch that shares the building at 45th Street and Woodlawn Avenue.
Over the winter months, says FamilyWorks Director Jake Weber, incidents like these shot up, leading staff to feel unsafe and the food bank and its upstairs landlord --anti-poverty agency Solid Ground (the former Fremont Public Association) -- to hire Coverson in January. Though he's retired, he maintains his certification to wear the uniform, which comes with full police powers and a 9mm Beretta handgun that make him a curiosity to three small children staring through the glass in the lobby.
At least a few food bank clients say they find the officer unnecessary and intimidating. But FamilyWorks isn't alone. As the recession and layoffs have driven more people to food banks citywide -- the individuals served by FamilyWorks skyrocketed 80 percent last year, from 1,937 in 2007 to 3,405 in 2008 -- lines, wait times and angst about getting the day's best pick of food have increased. This has led to jostling and altercations at some facilities, particularly those where clients spend hours waiting outside or in cramped quarters.
To quell incidents, Northwest Harvest's Cherry Street Food Bank on First Hill hired three security guards in early April. And after negotiating a "good neighbor agreement" with nearby residents, the Ballard Food Bank hired a security guard two years ago and, in March, chose to shut down its meal program at Calvary Lutheran Church over behavioral issues.
The Cherry Street Food Bank set an all-time record in April, serving 2,651 people in a single day, says Claire Acey, a spokesperson for Northwest Harvest. That compares to an average of 1,800 clients a day last year. On the busiest days, and toward the end of the month as disability and Social Security checks run out, Acey says, people will start lining up around 6 a.m. for the food bank's opening at 9 a.m.
"We had some escalating agitation among people in line," Acey says, including angry outbursts and physical and verbal challenges to staff. The security guards have restored calm, but "as you can imagine, it's hard to stand in line and wait your turn, particularly when you're not sure what will be there in the end," she says. "There's still some anxiety, so tempers are short."
Some clients, she and food bank managers say, are dealing with mental illnesses for which others in line may have a low tolerance. Those who have lost a job and never expected to stand in line for food seem more fearful and annoyed, says Beverly Graham, director of Operation Sack Lunch, an outdoor meal program at Seventh and Cherry. And, even among longtime food bank users, language barriers are exacerbating minor misunderstandings.
For many, "English is not the main language," Coverson says, "so sometimes they can't communicate with the other person, like 'I was here first and you need to go to the back of the line.'"
That's what happened in February between a Chinese speaker and a Spanish speaker who are longtime clients at the Rainier Valley Food Bank, says its director, Gwen Mitchell. The food bank opens at 9:30 a.m. on Mondays and Wednesdays, but people will line up on the street with empty boxes starting at 5:30 a.m., she says. One morning, a man kicked the box of a woman standing in front of him, then kneed her in the butt. She turned around and slugged him right in the eye, Mitchell says.
"We definitely see some tension in the line. People are pushing and shoving if they think they need to be ahead of the other person," says Mitchell, who wants to start a number-taking system in the future.
FamilyWorks first saw a major increase in incidents the winter before last, its director says. It and Solid Ground originally tried to address tensions by bringing in outreach workers from Community Psychiatric Clinic every other week, but it didn't help much, Weber says. In addition to hiring the retired officer, the food bank is now asking live musicians to play in its lobby, such as a young cellist who donated an hour last Thursday.
Under current policy, it takes three strikes for someone to get banned for two weeks or more from the building. To keep track, Solid Ground keeps a safety log of incidents with photos that have been snapped of some banned individuals. It, FamilyWorks and the library are also working to develop a new policy that calls for immediately banning people for a full year if they threaten physical force or are found carrying a weapon.
"We're really just trying to create a welcoming and safe environment here," Weber says. "There are a lot of people who have said thank you very much for the added security here and they feel much safer."
"I'm really glad to see that," says Scott, a longtime food bank client who says he saw two guys get into a wrestling match last summer.
Not everyone agrees. "I don't like it," says Dale, another long time FamilyWorks user. "His job is to break up any fight, not run the lines in an authoritarian way," he says of the officer. "You want to say [to him], 'Lighten up, we're human beings together.'"
Coverson says he has lightened up. After 30 years on the police force, he says he knows that threats and bans don't work on the type of people who come to the food bank