Vigil held for deceased homeless

Monday, Dec. 23, 2002 | 11:06 a.m.

Gary Norris, 61, has been on the streets of Las Vegas for almost six years, but the last year has been a little more lonely because his friend, Richard, died last year on a day much like last Friday.

"Richard just sat down and died," Norris said. "I miss him. ... He had a good outlook on life, especially under the circumstances."

Friday was the day before winter officially began, and it was one of the coldest, dreariest days of the year at the Las Vegas Rescue Mission.

Right before sunset, about 70 people -- mostly homeless men -- lit some candles against the gray in the organization's parking lot and, with words from various religions, remembered 48 others -- mostly homeless men -- who died in the first 10 months of the year.

As the list of the dead was read aloud, someone in the crowd said softly, "Lots of John Does." In what is perhaps the lonliest type of death, many who died in the streets and washes of the valley in 2002 were never identified.

"It's really easy for people who do not have a home to feel they're alone," said Tina Roth, director of corporate philanthropy for MGM MIRAGE and the sole representative from the hotels and casinos to serve on the regional Homelessness Task Force chaired by Las Vegas Mayor Oscar Goodman. She was one of the few present who wasn't homeless, a minister or a member of the media.

Attendees in past years have included Goodman, Las Vegas City Council members, and members of the Metro Police team that works with the homeless.

Roth said she attended the ceremony so that those who have survived the tough life on the streets "wouldn't feel so alone."

In other cities similar remembrances were occurring or planned for Saturday, said Michael Stoops, director of community organizing for the Washington-based National Coalition for the Homeless, the nation's oldest homeless advocacy group. The date was chosen because so many die in the year's coldest months, he said.

The ritual of candlelight vigils for homeless men and women who have died on the streets began in the '80s, he said, and has spread to about 100 cities. Las Vegas has observed the ceremony for at least a decade, said Linda Lera-Randle El, director for Straight from the Streets, a homeless outreach program and organizer of the event since 1996.

Using information from the Clark County coroner's office, Lera-Randle El said the number of those have died in the street has gone steadily up since 1997, when 32 homeless people died.

The same may be happening across the nation, if a report issued last week by U.S. Conference of Mayors is any indication. Based on a poll of 25 cities, it said that the need for emergency shelter grew an average of almost 20 percent in 18 cities during the past year -- the sharpest rise in a decade. Mayors of all cities said they expect the need to grow again this year. Las Vegas was not one of the cities surveyed.

Friday's vigil closed with Norris singing a song he wrote called "Bottles and Cans," looking and even sounding a bit like Willie Nelson.

The song was taken from his own experience, he said, since he used to make up to $25 a day gathering and selling bottles and cans to recycling plants downtown. He no longer earns a buck this way because the police started to make it harder for him to push around a shopping cart about a year ago. "They started to threaten me with arrest for having the cart," he said.

"The police used to be content with us ...(since) at least you were working," if you were collecting recyclables, he said.

Now he panhandles with a sign that says, "The Lord is my shepherd."

"I don't ask for anything, but people can give if they want to, for sharing the message."

Norris said he hopes this winter doesn't bring bad news. Last winter, Richard died. And at another time last winter, when Norris returned to a campsite he discovered that his blankets and clothes, along with those of others, had been taken during a cleanup of the area.

He survived a cold rain much like the one that fell over the Las Vegas Valley over the weekend thanks to a fire he burned in a pit and covered with plywood sheets, plus a conversation he had "with the Lord," he said.

The vigil was important for him, he said, because it conveyed another vital message.

"It reminds us that living in the streets is a matter of life and death," he said.