On a cold, spitting December afternoon in Portland, Ore., Paul Ortiz walked from the food carts at Southwest Third Avenue and Stark Street back to the Street Roots office to check his mail and pick up more papers.
He moved with long strides but kept his head up to scan Third Avenue, which was full of holiday shoppers, tourists, street kids and damp, windblown debris. Paul has a friendly, open face and seemed to know every other person we passed.
He gave a cheerful “Hi, how ya doin’?” to an older man who only smiled, to a panhandler sitting on cardboard outside an adult theater, to a burly guy wearing only a T-shirt. The two of them stopped and talked for a minute to catch up, and Paul explained what he was doing with the stack of newspapers.
After a few words, Paul told him the days and times of the vendor orientations and went on his way.
Paul began selling Street Roots in August and became a familiar face in front of the food carts across from Cameron’s Books. He used the money to meet his basic necessities and help his girlfriend pay her bills.
His style of selling is understated but visible: He holds the paper out to the side and says, “Best paper in town, one dollar” as people walk past.
The key, he said, is to be there day after day, so that people know he’s serious about the work. He said the people who pass by his turf range from openly cold or snobbish to remarkably kind. The day before, an older man had walked up and given him a $5 bill and started walking away.
“You don’t have to do that,” Paul said.
“I do,” the man said. “God told me to.”
Telling that story, Paul smiled and shrugged. He has an accepting attitude toward people, having experienced both the charitable and cruel sides of humanity from living on the streets. When a potential customer gives him the cold shoulder or says something nasty, he shrugs it off and gets back to work. There’s always the next person.
One thing that does rankle him is theft: Taking from others what they worked hard to get.
That wasn’t always his attitude, having his own distant history with drugs and crime in California before finding a somewhat steady job riding with a traveling carnival, setting up the booths and stages and rides in towns across California and southern Oregon. The job took him to Salem, where he quit and settled for a few years. He married, divorced and decided to head for Portland.
He traveled up the Willamette Valley by bicycle on the shoulder of Interstate 5. He eventually saw the exit sign for the city of Tigard and peeled off. In Portland, he got clean for good and eventually began selling Street Roots, which became his main source of income and a source of networking and friendship. He attends writing workshops at the street paper’s offices and takes the time to meet vendors. It became clear during our walk back to the office that he knew and cared about the people he shared the streets with.
“I give what I got,” he said. “If I have more than I need, there’s plenty of people out here who can use that.”