Life after sea: SouthCoast fishermen grapple with homelessness

NEW BEDFORD — Fifteen years of scalloping has taken its toll on Thomas. But the 47-year-old, who is among the growing ranks of homeless fisherman, does not seem fazed by the frostbite he is trying to recover from nor the rheumatoid arthritis that make his hands stiff.

He talks about the men who died while he lived.

“I was supposed to be on board,” he said, speaking haltingly with a Polish accent about the Northern Edge, a New Bedford scalloper that sank in the frigid waters off Nantucket on Dec. 20, 2004. Its five-man crew perished and many of them were Thomas’s friends, he said.

Thomas, who asked that his last name be withheld to protect his privacy, said he had gotten off another job and, as he said fishermen often do, went out drinking. When he showed up for the new job red-eyed, the captain grounded him saying he wasn’t sober enough to go fishing.

Thomas, who has not been able to forget the narrow escape, often talks about the incident and claims he should’ve been with them. He suffers from post traumatic stress disorder, according to Karen Ready, program manager at the Sister Rose’s House, a men’s shelter on Eighth Street.

Thomas came to the shelter a little more than a month ago and has been connected to healthcare and welfare benefits. Sober but disabled, Thomas is still at the shelter and administrators are trying to secure his pension and other benefits to get him back on his feet.

“It really is a tough, tough profession and they suffer for it,” said Ready. “A lot of the fishermen are displaced because of no work or from being hurt on the boat. It’s all kinds of things.”

The shelter has seen more homeless fishermen in recent years, serving 45 homeless fishermen last year between July 1, 2012 to June 30, 2013. This year they have already served 37. Arlene McNamee, executive director of Catholic Social Services that runs the dry 25-bed shelter, said she expects they will double last year’s number.

“Many of them have worked hard and have a lot of pride. They don’t have a lot of money so when tragedy hits or they fall into substance abuse, they end up with nothing,” she said.

Alcohol and substance abuse is a major problem among the homeless, especially among homeless fishermen who come with a whole host of health issues unique to the rigors of a life at sea, said Ready.

“They don’t think of it as a dangerous profession. They love it and the money’s fabulous,” said Ready.

Retired and disabled, New Bedford fisherman Marian Lubaszka blames the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s (NOAA) stringent fishing regulations for the lack of jobs that has left many of his colleagues out on the street.

“People come here from everywhere,” he said, originally from Poland himself. “Lots of fishermen are losing their homes and families because they have no money to support them. I feel bad for them.”

From his own experience, he estimated there are about 300 fishermen currently homeless.

While the city’s annual count indicates that the homeless population is increasing, there are no official numbers for homeless fishermen. Some fishing experts said they were surprised to hear there is a homelessness problem.

“A lot of people are out of fishing now but I don’t know what happens to them,” said Verna Kendall, local outreach officer for the Massachusetts Fishermen’s Partnership.

Lubaszka knows what it can be like out on the street. He was there himself for many years until he got help at the Sister Rose’s House. A longtime client, he transitioned out of shelter and lived in a transitional home. Last July, just before his 66th birthday, Lubaszka was lucky to win a handicapped apartment in the Oscar Romero House. The old building at the corner of Allen and County Streets was renovated last year to form new affordable housing that is managed by Catholic Social Services.

Sitting on an old floral couch he bought at a consignment store, Lubaszka said the apartment is “beautiful.”

“I’m very happy, thanks to them,” he said quietly.

“I am just glad that after all the adversity he has a happy ending,” said Ready who helped to secure his pension from Poland, approved him for transitional housing, got him on the affordable housing list and helped secure healthcare and support services.

Lubaszka served in the Polish army and then in the police force in Warsaw. In the 70s, he said he was asked to kill and brutalize people. When he refused, the government gave him two choices — go to jail or leave.

Lubaszka came to New York and said he has never looked back.

“This is my home,” he said, looking out of his living room window.

He remembered his first fishing trip lasted 10 days and got him $600. That was “good money” in the 70s, he said.

A scalloper for almost three decades, Lubaszka said he quit the business when he got sick in 2001. Like his friend Thomas, he also has rheumatoid arthritis as well as COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease) which requires him to be on an oxygen machine. Although the machine is free, it costs him dearly in electricity so he does not like to use it all the time, he said pointing to a large machine with a long tube in the corner of his living room.

Despite their health issues, both fishermen said they loved their life at sea and in many ways, still crave the life.

Lubaszka, who receives a daily injection for his arthritis to prevent further inflammation of his joints, has already had two back surgeries and is expecting a third.

“If it doesn’t work, he’ll be in a wheelchair,” Ready said. “As awful as that is, he has a home and a warm place to be on a cold day.”

A scalloper for 30 years and lifelong New Bedford resident, Benjamin Shurtleff walked into the city’s cold weather emergency shelter for the first time last month when the mercury dropped under 20 degrees. He said it was ironic he was at a shelter because he made as much as $80,000 on a single scalloping trip one time — he couldn’t say exactly when but it was before catch limits were imposed, he said.

Annual catch limits weren’t required for federal fisheries until 2010 under the Magnuson Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act. Prior to that, fisheries just had limits on how many days they could fish. There were catch targets in place but no accountability measures if the targets were exceeded in a given year, according to Maggie Mooney-Seus, a NOAA spokeswoman.

“I made money back in the day,” Lubaszka said with a tinge of nostalgia. “The situation with fishing is, it’s off and on, and with so many days off, it’s hard to get another job.”

The annual mean wage for the “farming, fishing and forestry” industry in New Bedford is $27,730 and the mean hourly wage $13.33, according to data on the Bureau of Labor Statistics website. Better data comes from the ES-202 reports filed by all employers subject to unemployment compensation laws with the Executive Office of Labor and Workforce Development (EOLWD), according to Clyde Barrow, director of the Center for Policy Analysis at UMass Dartmouth.

In 2013, New Bedford’s fishing industry employed an average of 753 people in the first quarter and recorded an average weekly wage of $1,974. The second quarter saw an average of 1,157 people employed and an average weekly wage of $3,177. The total amount of wages paid January through June was more than $67 million, according to the EOLWD data. The department does not maintain separate data for fishermen, a spokesman said.

“The weekly wage, if annualized, is somewhat misleading, because it doesn’t account for the fact that many of the industry’s employees do not work year round and it includes boat owners because the industry doesn’t really pay ‘wages’ but distributes the value of catch to crew, captain, and owners on a percentage basis,” Barrow said. “Nevertheless, one can see that it is a high wage industry for New Bedford.”

Shurtleff, 54, said he has tried his hand at other trades, from welding to working at a power plant, but nothing gave him the joy of being out on sea that fishing brings. He said has been homeless for a while ­— “More than five years, probably eight.”

“I was born on the water. I loved it,” he said, recalling an incident from when he was freckled, red-haired boy of 7, out on a boat with his father in Fairhaven.

“Dad sneezed and his dentures fell into the water. I dove in and brought it right off the bottom. He said I was a seadog from then.”

The current catch limits are hurting a lot of fishermen, said Rev. Russ Chamberlain who mans the city’s emergency shelter at Mercy Meals and More when it is open during inclement weather.

“As someone who cares about the environment I agree there needs to be some kind of limit but they need to provide these fishermen with some kind of a supplemental income in the interim,” he said. “It’s one of few jobs remaining in the city for blue-collared workers to make substantial money.”

Chamberlain reiterated that fishing is a “dangerous business,” that substance abuse is a problem among many fishermen who tend to not save up money despite earning well.

“It’s devastating but it’s the love for the sea. They say it outweighs the danger,” he said.

Used to making big bucks, fishermen are not comfortable in low-paying, minimum wage jobs and can’t find other high-paying jobs with their skills. Most have had money or have led a good life until adversity hit. Unlike other homeless people, they are ashamed and often won’t seek out shelter or services, Ready said. So when they do come in, it’s usually when they hit rock bottom.

“People come to us pretty broken and they just don’t know how to get help. So we don’t just provide a bed, shower and meal. We are a shelter with services,” she said.

Every day the Sister Rose’s House opens at 3:30 p.m.

When someone walks through the door they face initial intake where they are identified, their issues are discussed and they are given food and a bed. Within three days, an extended intake collects more information on the person’s life, family, work situation, physical or mental health issues.

A client is usually expected to stay up to 90 days but exceptions happen.

If they are sober, med-compliant and as Ready said “they don’t need a babysitter,” successful residents like Lubaszka are transferred to a transitional house at Penniman Street that has 27 beds. From there they could move into supportive housing to share an apartment with another person in units around the city.

“This allows them to have a house as opposed to being on the street,” Ready said.

The shelter is dry and conducts random drug and alcohol testing.

“We encourage people to stay dry. Are we always successful? No. Do we help a big number? Yes.” Ready said.

Homeless since last January, Thomas checked in with Ready one cold afternoon last month. He looked at his feet enclosed in large black boots, pulling a bright blue jacket close across his chest and said he’s still trying to recover from the frostbite.

He looked away when asked how he has been surviving since. “No job, no income. It’s very hard to find a job,” he muttered. “The doctor said I can’t go out in freezing weather any more.”