Over the Bridge: Feeding the Hungry Downtown

Debra has been on the street for five years. She’s disabled and someone has stolen her wheelchair; now she has to push a cart. Snakebite, a musician with an injured eye, is hoping to make it big this year. Ron, who takes odd jobs in landscaping, took the trolley from his residence in low-income housing.

Their stories are all different, but they all came for the same reason: they’re hungry.

On a cold Friday morning, they line up outside of First Lutheran Church in downtown San Diego, bunching up against the gates, their eyes trained on the tables where they will soon sit down to eat.

It happens every Monday at 3:45 pm and Friday at 9 am. Volunteers with the Third Avenue Charitable Organization (TACO) gather to feed the vulnerable residents of downtown San Diego. They’ve been at it for 24 years, when the church realized that the needs of the poor outstripped their capacity as a place of worship. So, they formed the nonprofit to help.

It’s only 8:15 am in the morning, but already the line snakes all the way down the block, wrapping around the corner.

“We’re getting towards the end of the month and most people are running out of food stamps,” said Coronado resident Brian Trotier, who helps TACO on Fridays with his partner Judy Bambace. “This breakfast becomes a very big deal.”

The volunteers—about 30 of them—gather inside the church a few minutes before the gates open. Gloria, who coordinates the effort, says there’s always a worry among the guests that there won’t be enough food…that they will run out. But usually, after everyone is fed, there’s enough for seconds.

After thanking the volunteers and offering a quick prayer, the gates open. The disabled come in first, many of them in wheelchairs or with visible challenges in mobility. They sit down at the tables and the volunteers line up, spooning heaps of food on big, red trays. Today more than 250 people will eat breakfast.

The portions are large. The trays are piled high with eggs, ham, sweet potatoes, sausages, oatmeal, donuts and bread. Guests also get a cup of hot coffee and a smoothie.

“I love the smoothies,” said Ron, who used to be homeless but got into housing after a two year wait. “There’s one with strawberry banana. And one with mango and peach. I wish I could have a big thermos, just full of those smoothies.”

Bill, a mechanic who is disabled after open heart surgery, says he loves the green salsa that comes with the eggs. But most, like Debra, are hard-pressed to pick a favorite.

“I like all of it,” said Debra. “I get pretty hungry. I feel better now.”

San Diego Homelessness Up 3% in 2024

They are disabled and they are able-bodied. They are married and they are single. They are young and old. Many of them bring their pets, like the little chihuahua named Jasper. Then there’s the giant pit bull named Bubba who thinks he’s a lapdog, wagging his tail eagerly at each passerby.

But almost all of these people are suffering from–or have previously experienced–homelessness. Which begs the question: is the homeless problem in San Diego getting better or worse?

If you listen to the politicians, the news is mostly good. While San Diego County’s homeless population is on the rise—it went up only 3% in from January 2023 to January 2024 according to the San Diego Regional Task Force on Homelessness—this is a small increase compared to previous year-over-year surges of 20%.

Some politicians like San Diego Mayor Todd Gloria attribute success to the controversial homeless encampment ban, which prohibits overnight camping on public property when there are shelter beds available. The ordinance also outright prohibits camping within two blocks of schools and shelters, near transit hubs and adjacent to trolley tracks and in some open spaces.

Gloria also applauds the creation of two Safe Sleeping sites in Balboa Park, which offers legal space as an alternative to traditional shelters for people experiencing homelessness. The safe sleeping sites are called B Lot and O Lot by those who live there.

But the news isn’t all good. According to the data, the number of homelessness is still growing, it’s up to 10,605 as of the last count. And 58% of those residents sleep outside, which is an 18% increase from last year.

According to Trotier and Bambace, the progress with the homeless is more like visual progress; it’s not necessarily positive change.  The main difference is that thanks to the encampment bans, the business community and downtown residents aren’t complaining as much.

“The homeless are still there,” said Trotier. “They’re just spread out a little bit more and they blend in better. And a bunch of them got moved to the two lots. It’s like, out of site, out of mind.”

In addition, many homeless in downtown San Diego are taking shelter in different places, such as near freeway overpasses. These areas are regulated by CALTRANS and are policed much less frequently and subject the homeless to fewer sweeps, according to Trotier.

Other homeless are moving to the banks of the San Diego River, where some say the homeless population has doubled. Other parts of the county have also seen dramatic spikes in unsheltered homelessness, like Carlsbad, which has gone up 84%, and Encinitas which has gone up by more than 60%. Areas of East County and South Bay also grew by more than 50%, according to the San Diego Regional Task Force on Homelessness.

And some populations of the homeless are growing substantially, according to the data. The numbers of families sleeping outside has almost doubled, and the number of unhoused veterans has gone up 15%. The number of homeless seniors has jumped 22% and the number living in cars has increased 44%.

Black Americans are also overrepresented in the homeless population. They only make up 5% of San Diego County, but represent 20% of San Diego’s homeless.

For those looking for a bed at a shelter, the opportunities are slim. Only about 15% of people looking for a bed actually get one, according to the San Diego Housing Commission.

“Our attitude is, let’s make their lives a little less miserable. They’re not going to get housing. Where’s the housing? All you can do is help a few. It hasn’t gotten better,” said Bambace.

Housing opportunities, of course, are even harder to come by. Ron, the landscaper, said he waited more than two years to get housing. But he’s happy to have it.

“It’s really small, but my stuff is safe. It won’t get stolen,” he said.

But the lack of housing makes it hard to make a dent in the overall population of those living on the streets or seeking help at shelters.

“Every month, it’s like 900 of them move off the streets, and 1,100 people move on,” said Trotier.

Life in the Lots

Robin and Bobbi, identical twins who help out at the two sleeping sites at Balboa Park, say most of the homeless who stay in the tents are grateful to have them. They have access to portable toilets, showers, laundry and trash pickup.

“Some of them are like, get me out of here, but for the most part, they’re happy to be there,” said Robin. “It’s safe.”

Shawn, an unsheltered man who lives in B lot, works as the on-site chef. He says life in the tents is okay, but winter is hard.

“People are stressed,” he said. “Our lot is in the valley, and it’s cold. When I try to cook a hot breakfast, it gets cold really fast.”

Shawn says the setup is manageable and there are many resources available. But sometimes it requires some initiative to go and get them. He says he’s stocked up with blankets and sleeping bags which he needs, because B Lot doesn’t get much sun. He gives out extras to the people who need them.

“I’ve been through winter in the valley, and some people haven’t, and they’re not ready,” he says. “You can see your breath inside the tents…that’s how cold it is.”

Shawn says he’s on the list for housing, but the list is long and people with disabilities and addiction challenges often get bumped up. (He’s able-bodied and substance free.) He guesses that only about a small portion people who apply for housing actually end up getting it. Until then, he’ll stay put and do what he loves…cooking for fellow unhoused San Diegans.

“I’m following God’s path,” says Shawn. “That’s the journey I’m on. I try to take care of my neighbors.”

A Community Among Friends

Hunger isn’t the only thing that brings guests to the feedings. Sometimes, it’s about community.

“I come to see my friends,” says Snakebite. “These are my brothers.”

Trotier says that the feedings are a safe space for vulnerable people to come together to socialize. He says the homeless don’t get to connect with other people very often, and the positive interactions bring them dignity and increased sense of self-worth.

“They don’t feel criticized,” said Trotier. “People don’t avert their eyes. No one crosses the street to avoid seeing you. They’re all in the same boat and they know it.”

It’s one of the reasons that Trotier and Bambace come to TACO on Fridays. Trotier says that working with the homeless keeps him grounded, and reminds him how insignificant his problems are. He wishes other people would see the resourcefulness and resiliency of the city’s homeless.

“I think far too many people recoil at the sight of a homeless person and, whether out of fear or disgust, see the homeless as ‘less than’ or dangerous,” he said. “This interferes with our ability to see them as our brothers and sisters.”

Ron, the landscaper, says the Friday mornings like this keep him going. He doesn’t have any big dreams for the future, but he’s happy for the chance to eat a full meal with others like him.

“I’m working it out,” he says. “One day at a time.”