Every day last winter, Thomas Sexton left his high school guidance counselor’s office at 1 p.m. and went to the nearby Albertsons in South Eugene. He stood outside and asked anyone coming in or out, “Excuse me, do you have any spare change?”
Sexton, 20, stays at the New Roads drop-in center in Eugene for homeless and runaway youths between the ages of 16 and 21. He is one of many who, at some point, have resorted to begging for money on sidewalks and street corners, a practice the kids call “spanging,” a combination of “spare” and “change.”
Panhandling is a last resort for most, but a study by the Public Broadcasting Service and published online found the practice can be a lucrative activity that often earns thousands of dollars per year in large cities. The study polled homeless people in New York and found they had lucrative strategies for location, appearance and personal attitude. Begging may not be a career, but the homeless said it should be treated like a job.
Sexton and Mathew “Huggy” Miller, 21, both said they asked anyone for money, but said it always brought varied results. Some people would give as much as $5 to $50 at once. “You can make anywhere from $10 to $130 in five hours,” Miller said. Sexton generally stopped once he hit $20 because it was usually all he needed.
This year, beggars can probably expect to make fewer profits than they normally would, said Erin Bonner, assistant executive director at ShelterCare in Eugene. Donations across the board are down, while necessity has significantly increased, Bonner said.

Begging is legal in Eugene, according to city codes. However, if the panhandler becomes aggressive, the action is considered harassment, said Melinda Kletzok, spokeswoman for the Eugene Police Department. “Panhandling, in itself, is not illegal,” she said.
When Sexton first became homeless after his mother kicked him out of her house last November, Sexton said he begged every day. He’d start at Albertsons and move to Safeway after the first store kicked him out, and then back to Albertsons after Safeway made him leave.
“Back then,” he said, “it was all for drugs.”
Unlike Sexton, who begged exclusively at grocery stores, Miller panhandles mainly downtown. He said the bus depot, the public library, the courthouse and the downtown area between John Henry’s and Luckey’s are the best places to work. The hours of 10 a.m. to noon and 10 p.m. to 2:30 a.m. are the only times to panhandle, Miller said, because they are by far the most profitable.
Miller said he tries to ask people who look like they’ve just bought something. The best ones to ask are drunk people who are liberal with their wallets, he said.
The worst people, Miller said, are the ones who say, “I earn my money.” As far as he’s concerned, so does he.
Miller’s panhandling motives differ from Sexton’s. Miller has a group of friends he considers family and they share all their profits. “I’m doing it for a reason,” he said. “I’m not doing it just because I’m homeless … I have responsibilities to take care of.”
Miller takes a creative approach to begging. The South Eugene High School graduate has had training as an actor, and uses the skill to do more than ask for money – he sings for money.
Miller begins the song, “May I beg your pardon my Lord,” and it continues in a lilting British accent than contrasts oddly with his round, scruffy face and flame-covered bandana. He considers his ditty an icebreaker, and said asking for change or holding a sign will only bring in coins, while a song or a rhyme brings in the bills.
Miller said he sleeps down by the river, on church steps or in people’s homes when they offer. Besides paying for food and cigarettes, his panhandling money is currently going toward a big splurge – a night in a hotel.
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