People line up hours early seeking help for gas bills

Reprinted from the Birmingham News, November 6, 2001 

By CARLA CR0WDER  

News staffwriter

Daley Palmore set out with his cane at pitch-black 5 a.m. Monday hoping to outpace the gas company's shut-off notice.

The 69-year-old retired cook clutched the worn, brown-paper sack that holds his important papers and silently took his place in line outside Greater Birmingham Ministries on 12th Avenue North.  "It got to $1,000," he said of his overdue Alagasco bill. "Now it's down to $500 something."

The line for monthly utility bill assistance had begun to form seven hours earlier, just af­ter television's Emmy Awards concluded and the World Series wrapped up.

               It trailed 30 yards up the sidewalk, refugees from cold homes standing in the cold.  Some huddled under quilts and comforters, ghostlike in the downtown gloom. Other people slept in cars, their heaters churning fumes into the streets.

Greater Birmingham Ministries accepts applications the first Monday of every month from people who need financial help. The inter-denominational charity, generally, can afford to pay bills for 40 families per month. Last year's spike in natu­ral gas prices has exacerbated need, with 21,000 families statewide still without heat.

Word has spread that you better get to GBM before the doors open at 9 a.m., but the lines are forming earlier than ever.

Karen Cook, 46, draped in mismatched bedclothes, arrived at 10:30 p.m., Sunday and be­came No. 1 in line. “The last time I came I was No. 62,” she said.  She has learned her lesson.

        Ms. Cook battles a battery of health problems, and breathes with the help of an oxygen tank.   As the line grew and people lit cigarettes, she had to abandon the oxygen to her friend’s car out of fear that the smoke would ignite it.  It was a hard night, and Mrs. Cook was protective of her spot up front.  So protective, she and the other early birds started their own sign-up sheet, with names and times of arrival.

The low during their wait was 42 degrees, according to the National Weather Service. The temperature rose to 43 by 6 a.m. By then, the line had swelled to more than 100 people.

There was also Shaunta Frazier, 22, nine months pregnant and living in an apartment with no heat, electricity or water.

There was Brenda Jordan, 57, who takes pain medication daily for rheumatoid arthritis. “I didn't take none last night be­cause I knew I wouldn't get down here if I took it,” she said.

Danette Boyd, 42, was there, the hood of her pink coat tied tightly around her face like a child preparing for snow.  Her day started at 3:15 a.m., which put her at No. 39 on the list.  “I had been using crack for 11 years, and I went into treatment 16 months ago,” Ms. Boyd said.

A week ago, she moved out of the rehabilitation house into an apartment.  But she cannot get the gas turned on, because she has an outstanding bill of $732. It accrued, she said, while she was in rehab, and a friend stayed in her apartment. Although the gas had been shut off, he found a way to reconnect it, and left her with the bill.

She has a part-time job as a cook.   She has an apartment, but no furniture. Blankets, but no bed.  Sobriety but not stability.

“All I want is to stay clean and sober,” she said.

There were few smiling faces.  Michelle Hopson, a mother of three, did homework sitting on the sidewalk.  She’s taking a 12-week certified nursing assistant course and is optimistic about employment, with all the job listings on the bulletin board at her school.   Her heat wasn’t off; she was trying to pay down a $600 bill but feared the disconnect notice was not far away. 

With all the money they're sending to the (Sept, 11) disaster fund, they've forgotten about the their ow state,” she said.

Someone made a coffee run, sharing with strangers. She was the same woman holding a place in line for her 83-year-old grandfather, with a $619 bill, while he slept in the van.

About 8:30 a.m., the doors unlocked, mercifully early, and the crowd pushed inside GBM’s building. The place was packed, but bodies were still outside.

GBM veteran case worker Sarah Price tried to explain, to console, to suggest other agen­cies. “The only thing I can say is we’ve got as many people in this building as we can help,” she said. “I know how you feel to be turned around, but there’s noth­ing I can do.”

The sun was shining on Palmore as he leaned on his cane and listened to Ms. Price. He guessed he would beg lenience from the gas company. “They didn't call my name,” he said. “Ain’t nothing I can do. They say they got all they can take.”

Later in the day, GBM employees discussed again the extreme need. They’ll try to assist 65 families in November to try to cover as many as possible in the predawn line.

It was unknown late Monday whether Palmore got the word.

2304 12th Avenue North, Birmingham, AL 35234

(205) 326-6821  Fax: (205) 252-8458