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Recent Articles by Philip Dawdy

  • The Last Boy Scout

    Husky football coach Tyrone Willingham keeps press and public at arm's length—which might be the best thing for his embattled program.

  • The L-Word

    Libertarian candidate Bruce Guthrie says what Cantwell can't.

  • The Phantom Menace

    The secret life of Seattle's most famous Star Wars enthusiast

  • Broke as a Smoke

    Powerful state legislators explore ditching the 25-foot rule as barkeeps struggle to weather a butt-free recession. By Philip Dawdy

  • Safety Dance

    Crosswalks and strip joints: one and the same for Mayor Micromanage.

National Features >

  • Riverfront Times

    The Pope of Pork

    Old-school hog farming makes a comeback, thanks to some fine swine from Frankenstein.

    By Kristen Hinman

  • Broward-Palm Beach New Times

    The Lost Season

    Here's how you become one of those people who screams at his kid's coach.

    By Bob Norman

  • Houston Press

    Deadly Evidence

    First, Houston's DNA lab became a laughingstock. Then its controversial director was murdered.

    By Randall Patterson

Best Helping Hand

People, Politics, and Media

Philip Dawdy

Published on August 03, 2005

There are thousands of social workers in the Seattle area. They perform one of the most thankless tasks in American society—working with the poor, the downtrodden, and the cast-offs, trying to help them find a foothold or keeping them from dying on our doorsteps. None of them does it better than Karyn Boerger, manager of the emergency shelter operated by the Downtown Emergency Service Center. Located in the old Morrison Hotel on Third Avenue, the shelter houses 200 people—all of them homeless, many of them with severe mental illnesses. At times, the shelter turns away 100 people a night.

To an outsider, the once-fancy hotel ballroom that houses the shelter feels like a psych ward. Somehow, Boerger and her staff manage the shelter in a calm, respectful, and humane manner, despite working with a population that, after years on the streets, can be highly unmanageable. It's hard to describe how that works except to say that it's a matter of presence and personality and stopping small problems before they become big ones. And yet people who come through do improve and find housing and jobs and move on to better lives. Boerger, too humble by half, calls it a process of "small victories." Downtown Emergency Service Center, 517 Third Ave., 206-464-1570, www.desc.org.