Marc The Litter Guy Seems To An Exception To The Rule

Sometimes big things can grow out of a litter idea. Seems these panhandlers were just begging to help clean up

By MIKE STROBEL

Marc the Litter Guy is really on to something, judging by your letters.

You like his civic spirit, his refusal to mooch.

I hope city beggars read Kevin Connor's story about Marc.

No paper cup for The Litter Guy.

The front page showed him cleaning up around Nathan Phillips Square. A polite sign on his back asks for donations.

Give him a medal, you write.

But must this end at Marc? Let's expand his brilliantly simple idea to every grate and street-corner in town.

Imagine how our city could shine with 5,052 people (as per City Hall's stupid homeless survey) picking up litter, dusting benches, weeding sidewalks.

Instead of pestering us and scaring tourists.

Are panhandlers up for it?

Let's ask. On Lake Shore Blvd. E. at Leslie St., I spy Paul Dechamp, 31.

$4.85

In an hour, passing drivers have tossed $4.85 into his Tim Hortons cup.

"Not so good," says Paul. "I can make up to $150 a day." Three days ago, one spiffy car gave him $120 in a roll of bills.

"We went over to the Wendy's and had a couple of Frosties, my brother and me."

They are out of Halifax. They live down Leslie St. in a drydocked boat that has sailed its last.

"This is my bread and butter," says Paul, waving his cup at the line of commuters.

"I hate it when they say 'Get a f---ing job!' "

Speaking of which, Paul, I have an idea. And I hand him a small garbage bag and new work gloves.

"You want me to do what for $5?" he says, frowning.

I tell him about Marc the Litter Guy.

Paul shrugs and off we go, stooping 'n' picking along the median as his regular customers buzz by.

"Boring," he says, after 30 seconds. "Here's a present for you."

Why would someone throw away a perfectly good unused condom?

"People do funny things."

Here's half an apple.

"Already ate."

A weathered du Maurier pack gets extra attention. His brand. Empty, sadly.

"We all have our little habits," he says.

Yes, so I hear.

But soon that median, well, you could eat off it.

"Great idea," says Paul, my first test case. "But they'd have to pay more than five bucks."

Let's convene to Queen West. St. Patrick's Square. Tiny.

Local panhandlers call it Sketch Park. As in "sketchy." The low after an Ecstasy high.

Place is a dump. Not for long.

My first recruit is Wayne "Vanilla Smartie Pantz" Seymour, 27. Aspiring rapper.

I find him panhandling in front of CITY-TV. Sign says "4 happy treez, 4 bluntz." He explains it to me, but I still don't get it. Something to do with crepes?

"I know that guy," Vanilla says of litter-busting Marc. "I even give him money."

See? It works. Sans begging.

"I respect his opinion. But the Bible says if you don't ask, you don't get."

It also says thou shalt not mooch. I think.

Still, Vanilla takes five bucks, gloves and bag, gladly. "Straight up. I'm down with this." He seems high on life.

Soon I am up to my hips in homeless.

"We'd take it in a second," Albert Groulx, 26, says of the Will-Work-For-Change idea. He has panhandled with a wry sign that said Need Change for Weed.

"Let us go to it," says Albert, "and the city will be clean in no time."

Well, St. Patrick's Square is a good start.

But it will never happen, though you and panhandlers like it.

"Workfare," Mayor Miller will growl.

"It's OUR litter," the unions that helped him win will grumble.

Garbage.