From an interview by Melissa Shook, June 24, 1990, Castle Island, South Boston. Reprinted, with permission, from  Streets Are for Nobody: Homeless Women Speak,  Boston Center for the Arts, 1991

Shook, Melissa

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New England Journal of Public PolicyVolume 8Issue 1 Special Issue on Homelessness: New Englandand BeyondArticle 553-23-1992Streets Are for Nobody: MaryMelissa ShookUniversity of Massachusetts BostonFollow this and additional works at: http://scholarworks.umb.edu/nejppPart of the Nonfiction Commons, Public Policy Commons, and the Social Policy CommonsThis Article is brought to you for free and open access by ScholarWorks at UMass Boston. It has been accepted for inclusion in New England Journal ofPublic Policy by an authorized administrator of ScholarWorks at UMass Boston. For more information, please contact library.uasc@umb.edu.Recommended CitationShook, Melissa (1992) "Streets Are for Nobody: Mary," New England Journal of Public Policy: Vol. 8: Iss. 1, Article 55.Available at: http://scholarworks.umb.edu/nejpp/vol8/iss1/55Streets Are forNobody: MaryEarly fifties; married, with one child. Employed when homeless 1970-1972. Works in ashelter.ihad left home because of an argument. And I couldn't afford an apartment, so,um, I had got a room up on Temple Street in backa the State House. And, ah, thelandlady there had a little bit of a problem— she used to think that the men thatlived in the house were trying to get into bed with her every night, so she'd beknockin' on my door, "Help me! Help me!" So I just couldn't take her anymore, so Ijust left and, ah, stayed on the street, you know, knew everybody— we all stayed upon the hill. I'm the only one that had a job, so I used to feed everybody. Paydaywould come and I would go shopping. We'd have picnics up on the hill— up on theBoston Common. On weekends in the summertime, we'd all come down here fishin'and barbecue down here and spend the whole weekend. And then I'd leave aboutmidnight, time to go somewhere and get some rest to get up the next day and go towork. I worked in a printing company.We knew a lotta people that had rooms and stuff, so we'd just go there, take ashower and clean up. And every week I'd do my laundry for the week and I'd putit like in a little bag, and then I would go to the Jordan Marsh ladies' room andchange, you know, and do my things in the sink in the morning— wash up andcomb my hair and everything, put on my makeup for the day, and go out.I was totally happy. Well, I thought I was happy because I was going out withsomebody at the time and I thought we were gonna get married. I didn't know thathe was not a very nice-type person. I saw him about two weeks ago— filthy, dirty,in the gutter, you know. I just practically stepped over him. But anyway, it was— itwas a good experience. That's why I know a lotta these people that come in, not theyounger ones, but the older ones— we used to all sleep together on one blanket.From seventy to seventy-two.And I used to work [nine to five]. At night when I got outa my job, around nineo'clock at night, I used to go help out in a, um, a restaurant on Charles Street.I probably . . . probably wouldn't do it again. Even if I was the same age, I don'tthink I ... I'd do it again. First of all, the summer it was nice because we'd be, youknow, out at the beach all the time. But in the winter, I just can't hack it, and howmuch can you stand on a grate to keep warm, you know? It's dangerous, for onething, you know, and then you have to watch out at night when you sleep for the ratsInterviewed by Melissa Shook, June 24, 1990, Castle Island, South Boston. Reprinted, with permission, from"Streets Are for Nobody: Homeless Women Speak," Boston Centerfor the Arts, 1991.621New England Journal ofPublic Policyand whatever else. So, mosta the time, we just stood up all night. I used to be atwork in the ladies' room a lot, catchin' forty winks [laugh].Well, when I was homeless, most of the people that were homeless were eitheralcoholics or just young runaways. There weren't that many people that had, youknow, come outa mental institutions and stuff.There was a woman named Helen that lived in, um, the Park Street subway sta-tion. She had a locker and she'd keep all her clothes and her cat in there. She usedto carry her cat around in a bag, shoppin' bag— and then put it in there at night.She had a beautiful singin' voice, she could sing. And I heard she passed away, um,couple a years ago. And she used to dress fit to kill. She was always a . . . fashionplate, you know, with the makeup and everything.[A better social net would be:]A shelter with ss . . . s . . . some limits, some goals for the women, not to open upmore shelters— that's not the answer. The answer is affordable housing for people.Granted a lot of these people have mental problems, but, open up supervised hous-ing. Some of these people could function very well.I own my own home, okay, and I have tenants. I cannot go up on their rentbecause I feel sorry for people. Meanwhile, that means I have to put out of mypocket "x" amounta dollars so that I can cover my mortgage every month, becausepeople have to live somewhere. And when I had apartments for rent, I told the realestate agent, do not send me anybody unless they have children— nobody wants torent to people with children. So I shoulda went up on my tenants' rent three yearsago. I can't do it. They can't afford it, so what am I gonna do? Throw them out onthe street? *+>622

Streets Are for Nobody: Mary

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