The New Moonies

Anyone who navigated airports in the 1970’s knows the drill. Walk along with your head down trying to get to the gate without being assaulted by seedy looking representatives of various organizations wanting your money, and, if you could believe the rumors, your soul. Among the more notable supplicants you had to dodge were Hari Krishna zealots with their shaved heads and saffron robes and the followers of Sun Myung Moon. The Moonies were the most annoying because they were less conspicuous, making them harder to avoid.

The approach was not subtle. Some token was shoved into your face, whether it was a book or flower. If you were silly enough to stop and engage you were hooked. I once got a copy of the Bhagavad Gita that way. The acolyte who approached me started talking about George Harrison and before I knew it, I was $20 poorer. I must admit, however, it was a nice-looking book. It sat on my shelf for many years, though I don’t remember ever cracking it open.    

Even before our airports became mini war zones with restricted areas abounding, the powers that be banned these annoying petitioners. While I never regretted the loss, it makes the airports more sterile. Luckily, before that happened “Airplane” captured perfectly the annoyance of most patrons by having Robert Stack take out solicitor after solicitor seeking contributions for everything from scientology to Jerry’s Kids and “more nuclear power”. (Everybody remembers Leslie Neilson for that movie – and rightly so – but Robert Stack was every bit as funny).

While the Moonies appear to be long gone, and saffron robes are a rarity, I have recently encountered a new wave of devoted panhandlers ready to accost you on street corners throughout Philadelphia. These are clearly a different sort of animal. They are young people who are presumably getting paid to collect on behalf of recognized charities. The basis of their remuneration is unclear.

Some of the charities represented are ones we know well, like the SPCA or the ACLU. Others have names that sound legitimate, like Children International, but seem to be counting on their generic names to assure you that you’re giving to a good cause. Kind of like George Castanza telling his co-workers that for the holidays he had contributed on their behalf to “The Human Fund”. It sounded good, so why should they care that he was the only human benefiting from the “contribution”.  

Since these kids are not true believers like the airport denizens the ardency of their solicitations varies. Most seem content to merely ask for a moment of your time. Others look at you pleadingly and only follow up if you respond somehow, with a raised eyebrow or twitch. In any event they give up quickly in response to a polite refusal.

However, I have had some more aggressive encounters. I was once approached in Washington Square by a vested schnorrer who was collecting on behalf of some children’s charity I had never heard of. She prefaced her pitch by asking me if I liked children. So many wise-ass responses flooded my brain (“Obviously, you never met my kids.” “Yes, at least until they can talk.” “No more or less than the rest of humanity, and that’s not saying much.”) that I froze. Finally, I merely spit out something insipid like, “Do you really think that will get you a donation?” I hate those missed opportunities.

(This exchange did remind me of when my son Will ran for Mayor of Allentown while a student at Muhlenberg College (“Where there’s a Will there’s a Wamser”). He took an ant-vax position. His explanation made perfect sense).

Another solicitor approached me by asking where I would rate myself on a scale of 1 – 10 as a nice person. I immediately shot back “0”, though I admit I did it with a smile. Having been asked this asinine question the “0” was honestly how I felt at that moment. The smile was disingenuous.

The problem is that I probably do rate higher than a “0” on the nice scale, though where I would not want to guess. I feel a twinge of guilt passing these kids by, especially when I know the organization they represent to be meritorious. I am tempted to stop and explain that I do give to charity, but not to street solicitations.  

I never had this problem with the Moonies. They were easy to blow off without a second thought. I just can’t do that with these fresh-faced youngsters who look so damn sincere. Believe me, I fight the urge to engage. I just don’t feel great about it.

Plus, I feel some commiseration with these street urchins. Likely they are more akin to the long-gone door-to-door supplicants selling magazine subscriptions to earn money for college. Like those dear departed mendicants, they are probably only making a pittance of what they need to survive. That alone is worth our empathy.

The irony is that the airport ambushers were true believers, or at least I assume so. I doubt if the Krishnas were paying anyone to shave their heads, don the saffron and troll the Philadelphia International walkways. Maybe they deserved more of my sympathy than this new crop of solicitors. Nah!!!

Solicitations will always be with us, whether it’s these patrons of the sidewalk, or in the flood of mail that comes daily, especially this time of year. Most are from worthwhile organizations doing important work. Picking and choosing those who you want to support can be agonizing. However, one thing is for sure. Come-ons more likely to elicit testy responses is not the way to go.