February 25, 1990
By Julie Sullivan
Staff Writer, The Spokesman Review
Joe Peak’s smile has no teeth.
His dentures were stolen at the Norman Hotel, the last place he lived in downtown Spokane before moving to the Merlin two years ago.
Gumming food and fighting diabetes have shrunk the 54-year-old man’s frame by 80 pounds. He is thin and weak and his mouth is sore.
How do I use this BNW Brown Bag?
I. The Power of Brevity
II. Award winning short stories
• Desperate Days at the Merlin: Donald “Joe” Peak, by Julie Sullivan
• Lottery has its own take on the story, by Russell Eshleman, Jr.
• Fighting for Life 50 Floors Up, With One Tool and Ingenuity, by Jim Dwyer
III. Talking Points & Assignment Desk
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“I try to make a little nest here for myself,” he says.
Chock-full of furniture and cups from the 32-ounce Cokes he relishes for 53 cents apiece, Peak’s second-floor apartment is almost cozy.
A good rug covers holes in the kitchen floor, clean-looking blankets cover a clean-looking bed. Dishes are stacked neatly in the kitchen sink.
But cockroaches still scurry across his kitchen table.
“I live with them,” he says with a shrug. “I can’t afford the insecticides, pesticides, germicides. I don’t have the money.”
With a $500-per-month welfare check and a $175 rent payment, Peak follows a proper diet when he can afford it. He shops at nearby convenience stores where he knows the prices are higher but the distance is right. He has adapted to the noisy nightlife in the hallways and sleeps when he is too exhausted to hear it.
Part Seminole Indian, Chinese, and black, the Florida native moved to Spokane 20 years ago to be near relatives in Olympia. He quit school at 13 to help earn the family income and worked a string of blue-collar jobs. Along the way, someone started calling him Joe.
His voice is lyrical, his vocabulary huge, but Peak’s experience with whites is long and bitter.
When conditions at the Merlin began worsening three months ago, junkies and gray mice the size of baby rats moved in next door. He hated to see it, but he isn’t worried about being homeless.
He’s worried about his diabetes. He’s frightened by blood in his stool and sores on his gums. He wonders whether the white-staffed hospitals on the hill above him will treat a poor black man with no teeth.
>> Next: Russel Eshleman, Jr.’s story, or Talking Points & Assignment Desk