If any media message is conveyed to us during the month of November, it’s this: Dining alone is never as fun as being joined by family and friends. And then there’s the obligatory, smirky footnote: Maybe with your family, dining alone is the more pleasant option. But at Occupy sites around the country, people have been eating together for the past month-and-change, in de facto families brought together by the anti-Wall Street protests. That’s true in Downtown St. Louis, too, where a food line for lunch and dinner is a routine sight.
Last Saturday evening, the situation was, in some ways, typical for the denizens of Occupy STL. Around 5 p.m., as speakers were discussing the history and current status of the labor movement in America, a long line strung around the food tent, snaking once, then passing in front of the speakers’ stand. The folks gathered in the bowl-like Morton D. May Amphitheatre were an interesting bunch to behold, with all types of different ages and ethnicities represented.
Of course, there are plenty of different ways to break things down from there. To start any demographic look, you’d first count a base of hard-core political types, there to take in the discussions and maybe even to speak, themselves. Then you’ve got a contingent of bohemian travelers, mostly young folks who’ve taken up temporary residence in the venue, some of them coming from around the country, others more-or-less based in St. Louis at points during this year. Some new residents, too, are on-hand at Occupy, brought to St. Louis for the purposes of the movement, but intending to stay here once it’s done. A good number of SLMPD’s ranks are around, too, mostly on the perimeter, working much more peacefully with protesters here than the displays seen in other towns.
And then there’s the local homeless contingency. It doesn’t take a sociologist’s eye to detect a very real presence of St. Louis’ homeless population in the mix. Now, this is where things can get somewhat real, where different folks on-hand for different reasons can find at lest a degree of friction in such a free-flowing environment.
Asking to speak to someone working as “contributions facilitator” for Occupy STL, I eventually came into conversation with Annabelle, who like others at Occupy, prefers the first name usage. Annabelle said that she’s been a restaurant manager, among other duties in the service industry, for many years. She said that she “hadn’t planned to even be in town” on Saturday, as she’d spent the previous day at Occupy CoMo in Columbia, Mo. She said she went “to see if there was anything I could learn about how to cook for and feed this many people,” especially since she’d “heard there was up to 3,000 people there.” There were less and she saw what she needed to see before coming back to the Occupy site here.
She said that when she began there was little more than “balogna sandwiches being handed across a table.” These days, there’s a large tent, with various heating instruments, some storage space, and a row of tables out front where volunteers pass out the day’s offerings from an ad hoc serving station. Although she said she planned on taking the night off, letting others handle both the prep work and execution of dinner, she was sought out more than once. First, no one could find cups and the line had completely exhausted its supply, with dinner just beginning. Later, the large BBQ grill was falling behind, and those waiting for proteins were left standing for a good 15-30 minutes, in some cases, though another facilitator jumped on-mic occasionally to pronounce that “the ribs and riblets are getting done soon.”
Annabelle spoke, rather candidly at that, about her opinion that “some elements” were tougher to regulate than others. As if on cue, a somewhat-heated discussion broke loose at one point, sending a young, female traveler into what was an hour-long, across-the-campsite, profanity-laden trip into the various indignities that she’s faced at Occupy STL. If Annabelle possesses a certain nervous energy necessary to work in conditions that call for major, occupational flexibility, she could probably use even a bit more of that, since the job of getting food out at Occupy STL seems to revolve not only around the basics (heating and storing food in less-than-optimal conditions, with minimal equipment and with local food inspectors popping by), it also means dealing with a host of inter-personal issues with volunteers and those looking for a bite.
She said, though, more than once, that “anybody who comes here looking for a meal is going to get one.” On this night, that meant waiting a bit, but it eventually got done.
The dichotomies, of course, are everywhere at Occupy STL. Across from the site, there are high-end restaurants like Mike Shannon’s and Gio’s Ristorante, venues that must have strong feelings about the encampment setting up shop across from their front doors. And popularly priced chains are all over: Hooter’s, Imo’s, T.G.I. Friday’s, and a combo Hardee’s/Red Burrito all ring Kiener Plaza. To date, a couple have resolutely not sent food over, though others have; a week back, for example, someone got on-mic and mentioned that Red Burrito had dropped off food, which set of a mini-rush to the food stand.
Cheryl, who works in facilitation at the welcoming table, is a recent transplant to St. Louis having arrived here “because of love” just a week, or two before the protests stuck. She’s in St. Louis with the intention of staying, having spent three weeks in a tent on-site, while her fiancee works off time in the Honor’s Center off of North Broadway, where he bunks during the nights. She mentions that some travellers brought “16 cases of food with them,” and that others have also been supplying food upon their arrival.
She says that the two things that never seem to run out of supply are fresh fruit and breads. Those are in good supply most of the time, though she”d like to see “more meats and fresh vegetables.” She also says that “Larry Rice has been down here handing out sandwiches more than once.” Where those foods should come from, well, that’s not necessarily her principal worry; the contributions folks are assigned to handle that, while she holds down the information desk at the top of the camp.
On Saturday night, she asked a cohort to go down to the food line for her, since she was not only conducting an interview but also was wearing a full-length brace on her leg, making the journey up-and-down the steps of the May Amphitheater more taxing for her. The friend eventually brought up an unadorned burger, which she greeted with the question, “Weren’t there any beans?” As her cohort walked away without hearing her, she could only add a “Well, whatever.”
Asked whether the food service at Occupy STL had gotten better over her three weeks in residence, she spoke with the kind of candor that you routinely get on-site. “No, it’s gotten worse,” she said, despite the fact that Occupy’s food wizard, Annabelle, had introduced her to the conversation some minutes ago. Cheryl also spoke of unexplained troubles on-site, in relation to feeding everyone, noting “elements” that sometimes cause confusions or disruptions.
Still, she says that she’s down for the duration. Even if the beans run short.
“I’m going to be here indefinitely,” Cheryl says. “As long as it takes for them to hear our voices.”
