SEPTEMBER 1521, 2011 I VOLUME 14 I NUMBER 46 BROWARDPALMBEACH.

COM I FREE
PAIRINGS: A MARATHON FOR YOUR TASTE BUDS. PAGE 17 SUNFISH GRILLS EX-CHEF SCORES AT SEA. PAGE 27
10
S
E
P
T
E
M
B
E
R
1
5
-
S
E
P
T
E
M
B
E
R
2
1
,
2
0
1
1
b
r
o
w
a
r
d
p
a
l
m
b
e
a
c
h
.
c
o
m
N
E
W
T
I
M
E
S
B
R
O
W
A
R
D
-
P
A
L
M
B
E
A
C
H
|

M
U
S
I
C

|

D
I
S
H

|

F
I
L
M

|

A
R
T

|

N
I
G
H
T
+
D
A
Y

|

T
H
E

P
U
L
P

|

C
O
N
T
E
N
T
S

|
10
M
O
N
T
H
X
X

M
O
N
T
H
X
X
,
2
0
0
8
b
r
o
w
a
r
d
p
a
l
m
b
e
a
c
h
.
c
o
m
N
E
W
T
I
M
E
S
B
R
O
W
A
R
D
-
P
A
L
M
B
E
A
C
H
|

M
U
S
I
C

|

D
I
S
H

|

F
I
L
M

|

A
R
T

|

S
T
A
G
E

|

N
I
G
H
T
+
D
A
Y

|

N
O
R
M
A
N

|

N
E
W
S

|

T
A
I
L
P
I
P
E

|

L
E
T
T
E
R
S

|

C
O
N
T
E
N
T
S

|
11
S
E
P
T
E
M
B
E
R
1
5
-
S
E
P
T
E
M
B
E
R
2
1
,
2
0
1
1
b
r
o
w
a
r
d
p
a
l
m
b
e
a
c
h
.
c
o
m
N
E
W
T
I
M
E
S
B
R
O
W
A
R
D
-
P
A
L
M
B
E
A
C
H
|

C
O
N
T
E
N
T
S

|

T
H
E

P
U
L
P

|

N
I
G
H
T
+
D
A
Y

|

A
R
T

|

F
I
L
M

|

D
I
S
H

|

M
U
S
I
C

|
11
M
O
N
T
H
X
X

M
O
N
T
H
X
X
,
2
0
0
8
b
r
o
w
a
r
d
p
a
l
m
b
e
a
c
h
.
c
o
m
N
E
W
T
I
M
E
S
B
R
O
W
A
R
D
-
P
A
L
M
B
E
A
C
H
|

C
O
N
T
E
N
T
S

|

L
E
T
T
E
R
S

|

T
A
I
L
P
I
P
E

|

N
E
W
S

|

N
O
R
M
A
N

|

N
I
G
H
T
+
D
A
Y

|

S
T
A
G
E

|

A
R
T

|

F
I
L
M

|

D
I
S
H

|

M
U
S
I
C

|
L
ate one afternoon this summer in Lake Eola Park, Keith McHenry got arrested
again for trying to serve free food in public. While his compatriots were
setting up a vegan meal of vegetable stir-fry, ears of corn, and potatoes donated
from a local natural-food store, McHenry was on his hands and knees, using
a fat marker to outline text on a large banner: End the Criminalization of Poverty.
Lake Eola is the crown jewel of downtown Orlando. The parks fountain shimmers at
the middle of the resplendent lake. Music plays through speakers mounted out of reach,
and swan boats rest in view of offices and shiny new condominiums. Nearby signs warn
that it is illegal to lie or otherwise be in a horizontal position on park benches or to
sleep or remain in any bushes, shrubs or foliage. Not a friendly place for a man who has
staked half his life on drawing attention to the barriers between the rich and the poor.
McHenry, 54, had written to the end of Criminalization when a police officer
stepped up behind him with a pair of handcuffs. McHenry was used to the drill at
this point: Since he helped found the international Food Not Bombs movement with
an anti war bake sale in Harvard Square in 1980, hes counted 150 arrests. Almost
every single arrest has been related to Food Not Bombs, he says. Among his guid-
ing principles: Feed everyone without restriction, rich or poor, stoned or sober.
Now, on Wednesday, June 1 just as scores of homeless people were due to start
streaming into the park, as they had done every week since 2005 McHenry acqui-
esced as usual, going off to spend 32 hours in the Orange County jail alongside two
organizers of the Orlando chapter of Food Not Bombs. They were bailed out the next
day, but the following week, they returned to defy the law again and share food with
50, maybe 60 people. The police came back too. During June, 25 volunteers with Food
Not Bombs would be arrested at the park (although the charges were later dropped).
The second time McHenry was arrested in Lake Eola Park, on June 22, he spent 17
days in jail. The judge, not sympathetic to his cause, called him a professional protester.
The reason for the arrests? For years, residents near the park had complained that
after the meals, homeless people disbursed into their neighborhoods. In 2008, the
City Commission passed an ordinance that outlawed the serving of food to more than
25 people at a time without a permit. The ordinance stipulated that a group could
serve only twice in each park. Mayor John Hugh Buddy Dyer said the ordinance
was intended to be fair to individual neighborhoods by diluting the presence of
homeless people in the citys open spaces.
The Orlando Food Not Bombs chapter, along with the First Vagabonds Church of
God (which has a mostly homeless congregation), challenged the law in court, but
a judge in the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals ruled in April of this year to uphold it.
McHenry says other groups that traditionally feed the homeless churches,
nonprofits, and county-run agencies provide only a simple palliative to those who
are stuck in the routines of poverty. They assume that theres nothing wrong with
the way everything is, says McHenry, that its just that these individuals have failed,
and now they need this food, and [the charities are] doing a good deed by serving it.
But Food Not Bombs takes a less amenable stance. When its volunteers serve food,
theyre preaching not about Jesus but about the fact that the whole damned system
that made these people homeless is broken, broken and pathetic, and that as long as
50 cents of every dollar is going to the military, as McHenry puts it, nobody should
be denied the human right of sustenance in quiet complacence. Hence the banner.
In Fort Lauderdale, a scene similar to Or-
landos plays out in Stranahan Park, at the exact
center of the city, adjacent to the main library
at Broward Boulevard and Andrews Avenue. On any given day, homeless drifters can
be found catching a nap on the grass, bumming a smoke, or conversing in the shadow
of commerce. Here, every Friday at 5:30 (give or take), the Fort Lauderdale chapter
of Food Not Bombs shares a meal with these people under a gazebo. Other groups,
mostly small ministries, also distribute food here.
But if city officials have their way, Fort Lauderdale could be the next municipality
to enact an ordinance like Orlandos, banishing mass feedings from the citys parks
and beaches. The City Attorneys Office is currently researching case law to try to
prevent these food sharings in public and confine them to a more secluded spot,
safely out of sight of homes and businesses.
An ordinance, if passed, could reshape the underground economy of free food
thats a slight but well-known comfort to some of the estimated 1,600 people who
spend each night on the citys streets. But putting a clean face on things isnt going
to be easy. Blame it on the kids.
T
hey sat in the grass of Stranahan Park after dinner, or a sharing, with the sun
shining low through the trees and a few conversations echoing from the gazebo.
The reusable dishes had been washed in buckets and were stacked up to dry.
David Hitchcock, a lanky, crop-haired 21-year-old who had recently been
homeless and had just shaved his legs for fun (he was drunk and bored), sat cross-
legged at the edge of a circle of people. In the group were about a half-dozen of his
fellow Food Not Bombs members and three of the homeless men whod joined them
for dinner. Hitchcocks dog, Whisper, leaned against him in his lap. Another dog, a
friendly pit bull named Bruise, squirmed on his back at the end of a leash, held loosely
by Will Berger, who was hunched low with his wild-haired head above his feet.
Next to Berger was Haylee Becker, 19, a small girl with brown hair pulled back in a
ponytail. She wore a Bob Marley T-shirt with worn-in, rolled-up jeans, canvas shoes,
and a blue bandanna tied above her forehead. She apparently enjoyed leg-shaving less
than Hitchcock did. A shakily drawn tattoo on her ankle, which has been noticed by
more than one reporter on the homelessness beat, reads Teach/Learn/Respect/Peace.
She was explaining the hand signals.
Food Not Bombs chapters are run by consensus meetings like this. Everyone
present should speak one at a time, without interrupting.
One person will be the moderator, and theyll look for the signals, Becker
explained. If you have something to say, raise your hand. She raised her hand. If
you have something quick to add, do this. She made her hands into two little guns,
and fired them off in alternating succession, close to her chest.
If you think the conversation is going off topic... She stuck her index fingers and
thumbs together in a diamond shape. If you want someone to speak up... Palms up,
lifting motion. And if you agree with what someones saying, do this. Palms face the
body, fingers spread, wiggle the fingers. Kind of like jazz hands.
Sparkle fingers, someone else called it.
So who wants to be moderator?
Hitchcock volunteered. The group went clockwise around the circle, each person
suggesting topics for discussion: an upcoming remembrance of Hiroshima Day, an
anarcha-feminist workshop, a regional Food Not Bombs event in Fort Myers. Then
Hitchcock chose people to speak.
But first, congratulations to Haylee for
getting her braces off, he said. >> p12 BY STEFAN KAMPH
12
S
E
P
T
E
M
B
E
R
1
5
-
S
E
P
T
E
M
B
E
R
2
1
,
2
0
1
1
b
r
o
w
a
r
d
p
a
l
m
b
e
a
c
h
.
c
o
m
N
E
W
T
I
M
E
S
B
R
O
W
A
R
D
-
P
A
L
M
B
E
A
C
H
|

M
U
S
I
C

|

D
I
S
H

|

F
I
L
M

|

A
R
T

|

N
I
G
H
T
+
D
A
Y

|

T
H
E

P
U
L
P

|

C
O
N
T
E
N
T
S

|
561.367.1636 503 NE 20th Street Boca Raton 33431
TWO LIGHTS NORTH OF GLADES ROAD ON THE CORNER OF NE 20TH AND FEDERAL HIGHWAY
LIKE The Hemp Factory
on Facebook
20% OFF FIRST CLOTHING ITEM
30% OFF SECOND ITE2M
40% OFF THIRD 2ITEM
50%
O
FF Bikinis
15%
OFF HOOKAHS
and FREE
pack of coals
10%
O
FF Vaporizers
BRING IN THIS AD FOR 15% OFF ANY GLASS ACCESSORY
Extended
Christm
as in Sum
m
er Sale
BUY O
NE, G
ET 1/2 O
F2F
Body Care and Candl2es
30%
O
FF
Healing Crystals & Stones
We Pay TOP Dollar!
Buy Sell Trade
Consignment & Rental Equipment
Used & Vintage Guitars
Amps and Gear
On Site Lessons, Repairs & Restoration
WANTED
954-772-6900
5068 N. D|x|e Hwy 33334
www.D|x|eGu|tarTraders.com
d|x|egu|tartrade@be||south.net
M0-8A
10 - 7
0wP 0LASS l SAT. 9AN & T0Slw0 6PN
LA86ST SL0T|0h 0F
hw & 0S0 hAh060hS
|h S00Th FL08|0A
LAYAWAY
FOR
CHRISTMAS
60hS
0V8 30 YA8S
S8V|h6
S00Th FL08|0A
ALS0 0A88Y
ST0h 60hS,
TAS8S &
PPP8 SP8AY
h008S: N0h.-SAT. 8AN-8PN, S0h. 12PN-6PN
NA8T|hS 0AV| 60h & PAwh, |h0.
954.981.1996 6500 ST|8L|h6 80. 0AV|
$25 OFF
12
M
O
N
T
H
X
X

M
O
N
T
H
X
X
,
2
0
0
8
b
r
o
w
a
r
d
p
a
l
m
b
e
a
c
h
.
c
o
m
N
E
W
T
I
M
E
S
B
R
O
W
A
R
D
-
P
A
L
M
B
E
A
C
H
|

M
U
S
I
C

|

D
I
S
H

|

F
I
L
M

|

A
R
T

|

S
T
A
G
E

|

N
I
G
H
T
+
D
A
Y

|

N
O
R
M
A
N

|

N
E
W
S

|

T
A
I
L
P
I
P
E

|

L
E
T
T
E
R
S

|

C
O
N
T
E
N
T
S

|
Becker smiled, her teeth straight and white,
and did the sparkle fingers.
One of the homeless men, Joe, tall and
flushed, had been flirting back and forth with
Becker during the meal, dancing to music
on his headphones, telling her over and over
again, I love you. Grinning, she had said
she loved him too. I really love you. I really
love you, she said. Now he kept raising his
hand to volunteer new items of conversa-
tion, often getting the off-topic signal from
members of the group. He offered paint for
the Hiroshima Day protest signs: My dad
gets his paint from Sherwin-Williams. I know
some people. I drink beers behind there.
Youve drunk beers behind every-
where, one of the other men said.
Despite the effects of warm food and
balmy afternoons, Stranahan Park can be un-
comfortable for the people who try to spend
the day, much less the night, there. In early
2011, Fort Lauderdale police erected a mobile
Skywatch unit, a crane-like machine with
a booth and cameras on top, in the half-block
park. Soon, people were napping, reading, or
talking right below the wheels of the surveil-
lance tower. It sat there for months but was
removed early this summer. Fort Lauderdale
police will not comment on whether some-
body was ever inside the tower or how much
video was recorded, citing an exemption
in the Florida public-records law for infor-
mation about surveillance techniques.
Food Not Bombs hasnt been hassled
by police during sharings, at least not in
the recent past. Neither have Myriam and
Mary Elizabeth Holly, two Christian women
from Hollywood who gather and cook food
under the name His Caring Hands. They
arrived shortly after this weeks Food Not
Bombs meal to pass out jerk chicken and
potatoes in square styrofoam containers.
Robin Martin is an organizer of HOPE
South Florida, a coalition of local churches
thats trying to work with the city to establish
a fixed location to feed the homeless. He says
that HOPEs affiliate churches work with soup
kitchens rather than organize open-air feed-
ings. But hes sympathetic with the people,
Christian or not, who come to the park. Its
not the sharing of food that is most important,
he says. Its the building of community.
Martin shares a waste-not ethos with
Food Not Bombs: There is enough food. We
dont have a food problem with the home-
less. We have a distribution problem. He
notes that establishing a connection between
volunteers and the homeless is the only
meaningful way to instill any change beyond
the filling of stomachs. He paraphrases
Jesus command to his followers: After I
leave, share communion. Share coffee.
Besides Food Not Bombs and an assortment
of individuals and small ministries, few organi-
zations in Fort Lauderdale provide food in pub-
lic. The majority of homeless people looking for
food eat at soup kitchens and shelters. Feeding
South Florida, a supplier of 800 regional food
banks, reports a 39 percent increase in need
for food assistance over the past two years.
One hungry homeless man who gave his
name as Felix and came to a Food Not Bombs
sharing recalled living on the street in Los Ange-
les. Food was everywhere there, he said. Here,
in contrast, finding food and shelter is a chore.
The Salvation Army of Broward County
provides daily dinners at its shelter and re-
cently opened it to people who arent living
there. Attendance has doubled to about 60
per night, according to Director of Develop-
ment Sally Gress. The Salvation Army also
has two mobile food trucks that are generally
used after emergencies. With more volun-
teers, these trucks could be used for food dis-
tribution. But theyre waiting to see what law
the city might pass: We dont want to start
something we cant continue, says Gress.
Behind the scenes, the city is working to
end the mass feedings in public spaces. The
effort to conceal goes back to an old lawsuit
and a history of stopgap solutions. And it
goes back to one man, a devout and cantan-
kerous widower named Arnold Abbott.
Every Wednesday night, Abbott now in
his 80s, or two years younger than God, as he
says brings a load of food he buys with fed-
eral grants and donations to Fort Lauderdale
beach and serves dinner alfresco to 60 to 100
of [his] closest friends. Hes been doing it for
years, much to the city governments chagrin.
Following a legal case in Miami in which a
judge decided that police couldnt arrest the
homeless for vagrancy unless there was a des-
ignated safe zone where they could stay, Fort
Lauderdale erected Tent City, a crowded,
makeshift homeless camp across from City
Hall, in 1993. Abbott tried feeding the home-
less there through the organization he named
after his deceased wife, the Maureen A. Abbott
Love Thy Neighbor Fund, but the city ordered
him to stop. He also fed people on the beach
but in 1998, he was ordered to stop there too.
He filed suit, and in the long legal battle
that followed, a judge ruled that until an
alternate site was found, Abbott could stay
at the beach. By extension, that meant all
the other groups that wanted to pass out
food could continue doing so in public.
A decade later, the city is still look-
ing for that alternative location.
(Tent City disbanded in 1999, when the
city opened a Homeless Assistance Center,
absorbing part of its population. Abbott
now rents kitchen space and organizes
cooking classes for the homeless there.)
In September 2009, the city convened a
Homeless Task Force that includes city of-
ficials, homeless advocates, business interests,
and (sometimes) Food Not Bombs. It has pro-
posed a number of possible locations where
food distribution could be allowed once the
parks are off-limits. But every potential solution
has so far been thwarted by a neighbor or busi-
ness that doesnt want bums in its backyard.
The task force has explored the idea of
identifying an appropriate location where
groups could continue to [provide meals] in
a coordinated, dignified manner, writes city
spokesman Chaz Adams in an email. The work
being done by many faith-based, non-profit and
community groups to assist the homeless in
our community is commendable, he added.
Despite Adams chirpy wording, City
Attorney Harry Stewart concedes that his
office is preparing legislation that could af-
fect the food sharings. He says he has been
tasked with finding a solution to the home-
less feeding problem. That problem
includes the concentration of panhandling
and people sleeping in parks, he says.
Back at Stranahan Park after dinner, one
of the homeless men, tall with a shaved head
and a wide smile, leaned back on his hands
and looked in the direction of City Hall. It was
blocked by the large Wells Fargo tower across
the street. When it was his turn to speak, he
told the group that he had been to a few task
force meetings. Nothing worthwhile hap-
pened there, he said; the citys efforts to reach
a consensus were pathetic and ridiculous.
Sparkle fingers all around.
W
hen hes not traveling or in jail, Jona-
than Keith McHenry lives alone in a
blue, 28-foot school bus on a $350-a-
month plot of land outside Taos,
New Mexico. He maintains the international
Food Not Bombs website from the Wired?
Coffee-Cyber-Cafe, a vegetarian-friendly spot
with a dirt parking lot. He answers
Courtesy of Keith McHenry
Food Not Bombs founder Keith McHenry being arrested for the first time, in San
Francisco on August 15, 1988. [Hes counted 150 arrests since then.]
Food Fight from p11
>> p14
14
S
E
P
T
E
M
B
E
R
1
5
-
S
E
P
T
E
M
B
E
R
2
1
,
2
0
1
1
b
r
o
w
a
r
d
p
a
l
m
b
e
a
c
h
.
c
o
m
N
E
W
T
I
M
E
S
B
R
O
W
A
R
D
-
P
A
L
M
B
E
A
C
H
|

M
U
S
I
C

|

D
I
S
H

|

F
I
L
M

|

A
R
T

|

N
I
G
H
T
+
D
A
Y

|

T
H
E

P
U
L
P

|

C
O
N
T
E
N
T
S

|
EASTSIDE PAWN
1569 S FEDERAL HWY
SE FT LAUD
(954) 761-9916
TWO GUYS PAWN
3345 N FEDERAL HWY
NE FT LAUD
(954) 565-0727
FT. LAUD PAWN
2223 S FEDERAL HWY
SE FT LAUD
(954) 527-2508
4 BROWARD LOCATIONS ON US1
DEERFIELD PAWN
618 S FEDERAL HWY
DEERFIELD
(954) 421-4270
CA$H for GOLD
Silver Coins Watches Diamonds
Buy or Loan / PHONE QUOTES!
14
M
O
N
T
H
X
X

M
O
N
T
H
X
X
,
2
0
0
8
b
r
o
w
a
r
d
p
a
l
m
b
e
a
c
h
.
c
o
m
N
E
W
T
I
M
E
S
B
R
O
W
A
R
D
-
P
A
L
M
B
E
A
C
H
|

M
U
S
I
C

|

D
I
S
H

|

F
I
L
M

|

A
R
T

|

S
T
A
G
E

|

N
I
G
H
T
+
D
A
Y

|

N
O
R
M
A
N

|

N
E
W
S

|

T
A
I
L
P
I
P
E

|

L
E
T
T
E
R
S

|

C
O
N
T
E
N
T
S

|
each call to his cell phone with a lilting, gentle
Hi, this is Keith with Food Not Bombs.
He keeps playing a role, first memorialized
in a black-and-white photograph of his first
arrest, in Golden Gate Park on August 15, 1988.
Big beard, hair falling in boyish waves, a friendly
but serious demeanor. Hes written three books,
and he lectures at colleges now, taking in a
small fee for each appearance. I try to get no
less than $500, but in the past few years, some-
times Ive had to take $250, he says. These
fees go toward the upkeep of Food Not Bombs:
telephone, vehicles, web hosting. He says he
pays his rent and personal costs by doing oc-
casional odd jobs and freelance graphic design.
Its been 30 years since he started Food
Not Bombs. The group now has more than
1,000 chapters in 60 countries, McHenry
estimates. There are chapters in Austra-
lia, Lithuania, Africa. In Reykjavik, where
its too cold to pick up pamphlets through
winter gloves, McHenry has seen members
wear antiwar messages on signboards.
McHenrys father was a ranger in the Na-
tional Park Service, and his grandfather was a
naturalist at the Grand Canyon. His grandfa-
ther would bring him to Hopi land to witness
the annual snake dance, where the men of the
pueblo dance with snakes to worship their an-
cestors and pray for rain. In the end... theyd go
into the kiva again and get all the food that they
made, all the bread and produce, and theyd
come with these baskets and hand food up to
every single person... My father and grandfa-
ther and my mom explained that this had all
happened this same exact way at the same time
of the year for 4,000 years, McHenry recalls.
He returned to the Grand Canyon in
high school and watched the construction
of the Glen Canyon Dam, which plugged
up the Colorado River near the ravine and
formed the massive Lake Powell. I went
around in the area that became Lake Powell
before it was flooded, he says. It was really
beautiful. There were 2,000 Anasazi homes
that were flooded. A really beautiful sacred
land that was destroyed for electricity.
An accretion of scenes like this added to
McHenrys growing unrest. The Vietnam
War raged on television. Martin Luther King
Jr. was shot, and McHenry and his family
watched the race riots in Philadelphia. When
he was in the fourth grade, his father gave him
a copy of Walden by Henry David Thoreau.
He was overcoming dyslexia, so he looked for
something shorter and picked up Thoreaus
On the Duty of Civil Disobedience instead.
By the time he reached college, McHenry
was a full-fledged activist, participating in a
protest against tuition hikes in his freshman
year. He wanted to be an artist. On what he
remembers as a crisp, cool, fall evening in
1976, he and his friends at Boston University
left a lecture by radical leftist professor How-
ard Zinn, who chronicled history as told by
the oppressed. They had been talking in class
about the construction of the Seabrook Sta-
tion Nuclear Power Plant, and Zinn was or-
ganizing protests against it. Four years later,
McHenry and some other activists came to-
gether for a sit-in at the plant. A friend of his
was arrested. To pay for the legal defense, the
activists held a bake sale in Harvard Square.
McHenry, along with seven other friends,
formed the core of what would become
Food Not Bombs. Later, they rented a house
at 195 Harvard Square to better plan their
actions. McHenry says that he was one of
the only members who wasnt dating some-
body else in the group and when couples
broke up and quit the group, he remained.
Toward the back of Zinns bestselling
book, A Peoples History of the United States,
he writes that against the overwhelming
power of corporate wealth and governmental
authority, the spirit of resistance was kept
alive in the early nineties, often by small-scale
acts of courage and defiance. On the West
Coast, a young activist named Keith McHenry
and hundreds of others were arrested again
and again for distributing free food to poor
people without a license. They were part
of a program called Food Not Bombs.
McHenrys phone rang at the caf in
mid-April this year. It was Phil Johnson, a
coordinator of the Fort Lauderdale Food
Not Bombs chapter. Johnson, a soft-spoken
20-year-old who left his parents comfortable
home in Weston to live in a messy collective
house with a few other local members, told
McHenry that the appeals court had just
upheld Orlandos anti-feeding ordinance.
A few weeks later, McHenry visited
Lake Eola Park with the sign and the Magic
Marker. Food Not Bombs chapters around
the state decided to hold monthly protests in
solidarity with the Orlando chapter. On the
day McHenry was arrested in Orlando, June
1, Johnson and friends were holding their
first protest near Fort Lauderdales City Hall.
Here, nobody went to jail, but uneasy
battle lines had already been drawn between
Food Not Bombs and the Fort Lauderdale
police. In February, cops had shown up at the
groups house, which group members call
the SWAMP Collective. (What that stands
for is up to interpretation, says Becker,
but at first, when we were publishing a
zine, most people went along with Student
Worker Anarchist Movement Press. )
Police entered the squalid, blue building
in the residential neighborhood of Middle
River Terrace and patted down an assortment
of traveling kids who had been hanging out
on the roof. According to a police report, In
weeks prior... [we] had attempted to make
several controlled narcotics purchases from
this location due to complaints received.
But nobody at the property sold them drugs
or gave any sign of being anything other
than messy, rebellious, and maybe drunk.
Still, police apparently harbor suspi-
cions. After the raid, as the residents call
it, McHenry came through town on a brief
visit. He slept in his van on the property,
alongside Beckers broken-down, bumper-
stickered old BMW. During the night, he
says, he could see the flashlights of police
officers trying to peer into his windows.
O
n a recent Friday afternoon, John-
son, wearing an oversized tank top,
wire-framed glasses, longish blond
hair, and a lion-cub goatee, was
barefoot in the kitchen, picking raw onions
out of a pot of greens that was supposed
to be a stir-fry but now would be a salad.
The food for the days sharing was spread
on the kitchen table. A big pot of potatoes,
filled to the brim with water waiting to boil,
leaned precariously on one of the working
electric burners. Friends milled around the
Food Fight from p12
15
S
E
P
T
E
M
B
E
R
1
5
-
S
E
P
T
E
M
B
E
R
2
1
,
2
0
1
1
b
r
o
w
a
r
d
p
a
l
m
b
e
a
c
h
.
c
o
m
N
E
W
T
I
M
E
S
B
R
O
W
A
R
D
-
P
A
L
M
B
E
A
C
H
|

C
O
N
T
E
N
T
S

|

T
H
E

P
U
L
P

|

N
I
G
H
T
+
D
A
Y

|

A
R
T

|

F
I
L
M

|

D
I
S
H

|

M
U
S
I
C

|
15
M
O
N
T
H
X
X

M
O
N
T
H
X
X
,
2
0
0
8
b
r
o
w
a
r
d
p
a
l
m
b
e
a
c
h
.
c
o
m
N
E
W
T
I
M
E
S
B
R
O
W
A
R
D
-
P
A
L
M
B
E
A
C
H
|

C
O
N
T
E
N
T
S

|

L
E
T
T
E
R
S

|

T
A
I
L
P
I
P
E

|

N
E
W
S

|

N
O
R
M
A
N

|

N
I
G
H
T
+
D
A
Y

|

S
T
A
G
E

|

A
R
T

|

F
I
L
M

|

D
I
S
H

|

M
U
S
I
C

|
kitchen, trimming kale and broccolini or lin-
ing up garlic bread in trays for the oven. Dogs,
wearing flea collars, coursed between the
kitchen and the living room, where a couple
of people sat on love seats in the dark, listen-
ing to punk music from a set of computer
speakers. A flimsy, hollow bedroom door
still bore the holes from where one of the
police officers had supposedly kicked it and
gotten his boot stuck. The walls, all of them,
were covered in multicolored writing and
graffiti. A feeble air conditioner sputtered
through a hole in some plywood, and below
it, a salvaged espresso maker belched steam
and Bustelo. The sink dripped through a
disconnected P-trap into a bucket, which pro-
vided reusable, slightly dirty graywater for
the garden and for flushing the toilet, if it
worked, which it didnt on this particular day.
As cooking progressed, Johnson and the
others discussed a dilemma. They had gotten
a donation from a local school: four big trays
of meat. Chicken parm, meatballs, roasted
turkey. Should they serve it? It ran contrary
to McHenrys ground rules, which dictate
staying vegetarian, for ethical reasons as
well as food safety. (He suggests redonating
meat products to other outlets.) They de-
cided to serve the meat dishes, which turned
out to be the most popular of the evening.
Fort Lauderdales volunteers try not to
purchase anything except staples like oil and
sugar, which they buy using money they pool
from odd jobs. Much of the food comes from
late-night Dumpster-diving trips, especially
when they can get someone with a car to drive
to Winn-Dixie or Fresh Market stores out west,
which have the best bounties. Publix stores are
off-limits, because they use trash compactors.
McHenry doesnt approve of Dumpster-
diving, instead relying on donations from
local farms or businesses, because he says its
unreliable and reflects negatively on Food Not
Bombs. But some local farms are wary of giving
business to a group of rabble-rousing youth,
and Dumpster-diving is... well, more fun. Plus,
there are principles to be upheld: Food in the
trash compactor or Dumpster is food thats be-
ing forcefully kept from someone who needs it.
The front door opened, and Becker
wheeled her bicycle into the room, silhou-
etted by the bright sun. She carried a plastic
bag that contained cooking oil and cigarettes.
Becker has progressed from typical girl-
hood in the malls of western Broward (bor-
ing, no friends) to homelessness last year (I
was done with the whole living-with-family
thing) into a sustained, conscious rebel-
lion that cements her position as a de facto
leader of the Food Not Bombs group (excit-
ing, friends). Her antiauthoritarian stance
may or may not have anything to do with the
fact that her father is a Homestead police of-
ficer (No comment, she says with a grin).
She first heard about the Friday sharings
in high school, before she graduated a year
early. Hey, lets go feed homeless people in
the park, said one of her closest friends.
Food Not Bombs was already up and run-
ning in Fort Lauderdale by then. The local
chapter had been founded in 2006 by Brian
Sprinkle and Marc Silverstein, two friends who
met at an anti-globalization protest in 2005.
From there, they joined the Bolivarian Youth
Communist Group run by an authoritarian man
who called himself the Chairman. Finding
more of a taste for the consensus-based anar-
chy of Food Not Bombs, they went Dumpster-
diving for some bread and put it in Silversteins
car. We drove around giving it to homeless
people, says Sprinkle. They were happy...
but then again, they were probably drunk.
Sprinkle, now 27, and Silverstein, now 24,
soon established the weekly sharings in Stra-
nahan Park, where they would come to mentor
new kids who showed up full of piss and vin-
egar but without a clue of where to find flour
or beans. Meanwhile, the businesses around
Stranahan Park were growing wary. We tried
to go to the bathroom in the Subway across the
street, but they put the rack of chips in front of
the bathroom door, says Gonzalo Vizcardo,
a Food Not Bombs volunteer from that time.
Last year, the core members decided to rent
a house. For a while, we had wanted to have a
collective house, says Sprinkle. We brought
it up at meetings. Some of us had jobs, and
the ones who didnt would work at the house
and garden or clean. We thought that would
let us spend more time on our activism.
They found the SWAMP Collective house
for $650 a month. Everything went fine for
that first month: Hitchcock had some money
from cleaning and laying tile, and Johnson had
a stipend from his liberal-arts scholarship at
Broward College. They pooled their money for
the security deposit, and Sprinkles girlfriend,
who had a job, paid the first months rent.
But living up to ideals hasnt been easy.
Sprinkles girlfriend had to pay for the second
months rent too. Becker had started drinking
heavily and lost her job at a mom-and-pop
toy store in Weston. Sprinkle and his girl-
friend retreated to their room, annoyed by
the younger members constant partying.
At the end of December, the couple moved
out. Sprinkle and Silverstein scaled back
their involvement and passed the leader-
ship duties on to Becker and Johnson.
Then the police raid happened in Febru-
ary. Tensions in the house threatened to distract
the Food Not Bombs members from the good
they had been doing. Meanwhile, homeless
people still needed food from somebody.
The lease at the SWAMP Collec-
tive is up in October. The residents will
need to pack up the pots and pans and
the lending library and move on.
Becker and Johnson, who are dating now,
intend to travel and earn some money working
on organic farms. But Becker doesnt intend to
abandon Fort Lauderdale for good. Im going
to do that for a little while, then come back
and really try to start up an alternative scene.
Fort Lauderdale is hardly a kind spot for
activism. Radicals either grow up and get jobs
or move away. Theres a reason people leave,
Becker says. But I want to change that.
T
hey lived in a rundown house in a
rough neighborhood. They had very
little money and no political power at
all. They had nothing to support their
bold belief, other than youthful optimism
and a marginal grip on reality.
Top: Marc Silverstein and Brian Sprinkle,
who founded Fort Lauderdale Food Not
Bombs in 2006. Middle: Haylee Becker
(right) and other volunteers share food in
Stranahan Park. Bottom: Local organizer
Phil Johnson. [This winter, Becker and
Johnson are leaving town; Sprinkle and
Silverstein will take over again.]
Photos by Michael McElroy
>> p16
16
S
E
P
T
E
M
B
E
R
1
5
-
S
E
P
T
E
M
B
E
R
2
1
,
2
0
1
1
b
r
o
w
a
r
d
p
a
l
m
b
e
a
c
h
.
c
o
m
N
E
W
T
I
M
E
S
B
R
O
W
A
R
D
-
P
A
L
M
B
E
A
C
H
|

M
U
S
I
C

|

D
I
S
H

|

F
I
L
M

|

A
R
T

|

N
I
G
H
T
+
D
A
Y

|

T
H
E

P
U
L
P

|

C
O
N
T
E
N
T
S

|
j~{
f
WE DARE
YOU TO
FIND A
BETTER
ANDROID
PLAN.
$299
915 State Road 84 Ft. Lauderdale (Next to Winn Dixie)
954-761-3710
Unlimited. Android. $35/Month. No Contract.
Unlimited Web, Data, Messaging, and Email,
Plus Hundreds of Talk Minutes.
Android 2.2 OS Slim Prole Vibrant 4.1 Touch Screen
Front & Rear Camera High Def Camcorder
915 State Road 84 Ft. Lauderdale (Next to Winn Dixie)
No Limit Mobile
16
M
O
N
T
H
X
X

M
O
N
T
H
X
X
,
2
0
0
8
b
r
o
w
a
r
d
p
a
l
m
b
e
a
c
h
.
c
o
m
N
E
W
T
I
M
E
S
B
R
O
W
A
R
D
-
P
A
L
M
B
E
A
C
H
|

M
U
S
I
C

|

D
I
S
H

|

F
I
L
M

|

A
R
T

|

S
T
A
G
E

|

N
I
G
H
T
+
D
A
Y

|

N
O
R
M
A
N

|

N
E
W
S

|

T
A
I
L
P
I
P
E

|

L
E
T
T
E
R
S

|

C
O
N
T
E
N
T
S

|
Thats a description of McHenrys origi-
nal Boston-based Food Not Bombs group in
the early 80s. It was written by Jo Swanson,
another Food Not Bombs founder who now
lives in Durango, Colorado, in her preface to
McHenrys latest book. Her words could just
as easily describe the SWAMP house today.
McHenry says that when he visited the
house, he was shocked by the similarities
with his younger days. Phil and Haylee really
remind me of myself and my girlfriend at that
age, he says. A lot of kids ask me how I ended
up doing this for 30 years. Its not easy, living in
poverty all the time but its funny: Theres al-
ways a Phil and Haylee that I connect with, ev-
ery few years, in branches all over the world.
Its unclear whether these young activists,
like McHenry, will stay involved with Food Not
Bombs as they grow older. Reality threatens.
In early August, the SWAMP Collective
hosted a day of political and creative work-
shops that culminated in a punk show and TV-
smashing party. While a thunderstorm raged
outside, Becker and Johnson held a meeting
in the living room on the future of Food Not
Bombs. They asked who would be willing to
take over the group when they leave to travel.
After a moment, Sprinkle and Silverstein,
the chapters founders, volunteered. Becker
was satisfied with the handover I love
Brian, she says and the group disbanded to
the backyard, where they listened to music and
put on a puppet show, featuring Dan the Pand-
archist (whose repertoire is available on You-
Tube) instructing people how to forsake mass
media in favor of do-it-yourself entertainment.
Later, they smashed television sets they had
found on Craigslist, then spray-painted them
and filled them with dirt. Then there was fire-
spinning and folk-singing and conversation late
into the night. The homeless people who had
been at the weekly sharing were invited too.
City Attorney Stewart says Fort Lauder-
dale is still researching ways to require people
to share food only in a specific spot. We plan
to have some kind of report back to the City
Commission in three to six months, he said
in August. We want to mirror [the Orlando
ordinance] as much as we can, so at least
we have an argument when we get sued.
Arnold Abbott, the instigator of all these
legal troubles, doesnt believe the city will
ever be able to find a perfect distribution spot.
I dont think there will ever be somebody
who says, Yeah, my backyards available.
He continues, It took five court battles for
us to win the right to stay on the beach, and
itll take further legal action to get us off.
In June, Cate McCaffrey, the citys direc-
tor of business enterprises and a member
of the task force, offered to meet with Food
Not Bombs members to hear their feedback.
Becker invited her to a sharing at the park.
McCaffrey arrived at the gazebo and talked
with Becker, who was distributing food. Becker
says, I told her I had to go get something
from the car and held the spoon out to her and
was like, Can you hold this for a second?
McCaffrey found herself serving food
to the people whom her bosses might
soon banish from the park. Later, she
sat in the consensus meeting and raised
her hand when she wanted to speak.
Stefan.Kamph@BrowardPalmBeach.com
Food Fight from p15