Homeless, not Hollywood

‘The Pursuit of Happyness’ is nice, but is it real? This is

By Jessica Kelmon

The grainy film, faded colors and Will Smith’s one-inch Afro transport you back to the 1980s. In the movie “The Pursuit of Happyness,” Smith portrays the real-life struggles overcome by Chris Gardner, a homeless man out to protect his young son, get a job and build a better life. The plot would terrify, but it’s safe because it’s in the past — we’re comfortable because it ends with a huge payoff.

In present-day Evanston, we have the makings a local indie remake, with a large dose of reality and an overwhelming lack of Hollywood glitz. Here’s how it starts.

He met his wife at an ice cream parlor in Mount Prospect. With her bleached blonde hair and white, horn-rimmed glasses, she looked like an Elvis groupie. A drummer in a band, Dennis Griffin recalls that he “was lookin’ like Jimi Hendrix.” It was love at first sight. They were a family. When she left him for another man and took the kids in 1999, he struggled. Facing a five-day eviction notice, he began off-again, on-again homelessness.

Dennis worked for years in construction, earning money under the table. When his boss asked him to do some heavy lifting that the regular crew refused to do, he put in a long day for $100 and went home sore, but feeling manly, feeling strong. The next morning, he awoke to the pain of a temporarily paralyzed upper right half, leading to back surgery number one. Physical labor as a full-time occupation was no longer a viable option. Dennis, now 53, has panhandled for the lion’s share of his support ever since.

Reel moment: In “Happyness,” Gardner waits in line every day before the 5 p.m. deadline for admittance to the Glide Memorial Church shelter. Some nights, he and his son eat at a soup kitchen. Other nights, they go to a restaurant, where the boy eats and the father does not. Resources for homeless people are available, even abundant in Evanston; but the plain truth is that it’s no way to exist on a daily basis. People get tired, and they need to live a little.

Now, the people Dennis spends time with call him “Dread,” because of the long dreadlocks that extend below his shoulders. In an average morning, this African-American former Southsider takes in between $15 to $25, buys food, then pays “a guy” $10 to $15 to sit inside to escape the bitter cold. From noon until midnight, Dread pulls in about $20 before retiring to a place where he can pay to sleep for the night. Rates vary.

“Tonight it will cost $10 - $15,” Dread says of his friend’s basement, where he will stay. “He has cable, he has a house with his mom.”

Where he meets his public, he is Dennis. On any given weekday, he greets people outside of Evanston’s downtown Starbucks in the mornings and the movie theater each evening. Northwestern students like him, and coffee-shop regulars laugh and joke with him. His kids live with their mother in Wisconsin, and he says their education is highly important to him. Despite the rough existence living on the streets, he’s never lost his sense of self — and it’s a warm, kind, open self. Much like his “Happyness” counterpart.

Supporting himself panhandling, Dennis realizes he is asking for money, but he certainly does not expect it. “You earned that money, you don’t owe it to anyone else,” he says.

Once, he says, a fellow homeless person asked a young woman for money, but when she pulled out a dollar, the man peaked in her wallet and said, “Give me the $10.”

“That’s not right,” Dennis says, shaking his head.

Reel moment: In “Happyness,” Gardner never takes a break; he never slows down on his quest to overcome the hard times. Gardner works constantly with a positive attitude and seems to do fine with minimal food. He never turns to alcohol or drugs. He never hardens, never strays from the straight and narrow.

At the downtown movie theater, Dread talks the bartender into a double screwdriver for the price of a single; an hour later he barters for a double tequila. He talks about the problems that some people — though not him, he says — have with drugs, where presumably many hungry homeless people’s money goes. He describes a harsh world where he stays at night.

“If I don’t check my bag before I leave in the morning to see what’s missing, stuff will be gone,” he says.

A self-described hustler, Dread has his head in the game — literally.

“Here’s what I did today,” he says, pulling out a large, yellowed tooth and tossing it on my open notepad. It looks anything but freshly pulled. He says it’s been giving him trouble, so he pulled it out today. By himself, no tools, no painkillers. Earlier, he said he swallows 10-15 Tylenol at a time for pain.

Reel moment: In “Happyness,” Gardner proves himself as an intern and earns the job. Our fadeout is on father and son, telling jokes, walking toward their new home. They made it, without financial assistance.

Dennis aptly describes his lack of welfare — he can’t receive welfare because he doesn’t have an address — as “a Catch-22.” Citing bad ankles, two back surgeries, high blood pressure and a stiffened right hand, he still only ponders two types of work — under-the-table construction, which he is largely unable to do, and panhandling. All he wants to do is get social security and work on the side. He says that with $600 per month, he can get an apartment. But he would not want the “headache” of a bank account, which would only serve to let the government and IRS know what he has.

With a place to live, he says he’ll feel rich.

“I can come out here with my cup,” Dennis says. “I’ll have a place to stay and nothing to buy but food.”

Fade out on the pulled tooth. A nice man whose future depends on public assistance and panhandling. This is homelessness, and this is real.

Click here for more Features