Philadelphia Weekly

Photographs by Jeff Fusco

A drop-in day center for homeless veterans, the Perimeter is housed inside the Philadelphia Veterans Multi-Service and Education Center on Fourth and Florist streets, tucked just beneath the Ben Franklin Bridge.

When attorney Michael Taub walks through its doors on a glossy April morning, he's quickly accosted by prospective clients-men familiar from street corners and stairwells, with scruffy chins and wobbly gaits.

They approach him eagerly but also with doubt. Taub, a lawyer for the nonprofit Homeless Advocacy Project (HAP), has come this morning to provide free legal services to the center's many patrons. Most of them are wary of false promises. They've been disappointed before.

By 9 a.m., 11 men and one woman have signed up to speak with Taub, who's become known at the center and beyond as a savior to homeless veterans in need. Over the last three years 33-year-old Taub has represented approximately 107 veterans seeking Veterans Administration (VA) and Social Security benefits, among other things. He's lost only one case.

Taub reads aloud the first name on the list to a group of about 25 men watching TV in the lounge. Some of them arrived this morning with legal questions. Many came just for a warm breakfast and a place to clean up. Nearly all live in a shelter or on the street.

A blue-eyed man with a graying beard walks slowly over to Taub's corner of the room, wearing a U.S. Army veteran hat, a T-shirt and camouflage pants. After little more than a greeting he pulls up his shirt to reveal a thick scar 10 inches long, traversing the left side of his ribcage.

"I had a lung operation," he says, his free hand trembling around a paper coffee cup. "They said they found chemicals in my lungs ... "

Upon more questioning from Taub, he explains his whole history: A Vietnam-era veteran, he became addicted to painkillers in '76 after suffering a knee injury while in the service. Other problems followed: hepatitis C, substance abuse and a DUI. He gets partial VA disability benefits, but has been sleeping on park benches and doorsteps in Philadelphia for the last several months.

Taub listens carefully and determines the man has a criminal matter that needs to be cleared up before he can get financial assistance. He refers the man to the public defender's office and provides him with his business card should he need additional help.

"Feel free to call me anytime," he says.

The man is grateful for the personal attention, but clearly frustrated by a system that hasn't been able to get him off the street.

"We didn't know anything about benefits," he says of his release from the military following Vietnam. "We were just kids comin' out."

Taub calls the next man in line.

Purple heart: Perimeter program director Marsha Four frets about an influx of homeless veterans on Philly's streets.

In six years the Perimeter has served around 3,200 veterans facing homelessness in Philadelphia, some of whom come from as far as California and South Carolina to take advantage of the unique services it provides. The center takes a comprehensive approach to homeless assistance, offering vets food, showers, clothing, haircuts and laundry access as well as residential and job placement, group discussions, medical assessments, classes, legal counselors and access to onsite VA representatives five days a week.

On any given day 50 to 100 veterans visit the Perimeter. Nearly 60 percent of them served in or just after Vietnam.

But these numbers could soon be changing.

Last year the center's HVRP grant was marked for cutting. It had paid Taub's salary as well as those of six or seven other crucial employees who were subsequently laid off.