Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: MONDAY, September 4, 1995                   TAG: 9509050114
SECTION: VIRGINIA                    PAGE: A-4   EDITION: HOLIDAY 
SOURCE: MATT CHITTUM STAFF WRITER
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

YOUNG PEOPLE GATHER SUNDAY IN THE PARK - TO SERVE

James, a skinny fellow with a head full of gnarly dreadlocks, sat cross-legged on the wooden stage in downtown Roanoke's Elmwood Park, a 3-gallon pot of spaghetti and tomato sauce before him. As each of several tired-looking men stepped up, James ladled a mound of the pasta onto a paper plate.

Some said "that's too much." Others asked for more, and got it.

James is a member of a group called Food Not Bombs. He wouldn't give his name because he says he knows of people in other cities who have been arrested for distributing food to the hungry in public. He's not sure if it's illegal in Roanoke.

Each Sunday for over a year now, Food Not Bombs has been in the park serving food to the homeless and the just plain hungry.

"We're out here rain or shine," James said. Usually, only a few of the group's members, who range in age from 17 to 30, show up. One day last winter, James served the food by himself.

The group is a local chapter of a San Francisco-based organization devoted to the idea that it's ridiculous to spend money on the military when there are people who are homeless and hungry.

"I hear we spend $3 billion on defense every two weeks," James said.

He figures his group feeds 30 or 40 people every two weeks at a cost of about $12.

The members heard about the Richmond chapter of Food Not Bombs and decided to start their own chapter. They get by on donations and the proceeds of benefit concerts featuring mostly punk rock bands.

They buy food from the Southwest Virginia Second Harvest Food Bank. Sunday, besides the pasta, they were serving graham crackers, pretzels, lemonade and grapefruit juice. The food is always vegetarian.

"The people usually come flocking," he said. Sunday, they came at a trickle. But within an hour, about 15 people, all male and mostly homeless, had stopped by.

James and the others know many of them by name. They know which ones have died recently, like "Wig" and Randy, who they say had an idea to turn abandoned property in Southeast Roanoke into gardens where homeless people could hang out.

The men know them, too.

Charlie, a burly man with red eyes and a baseball cap, slaps James familiarly on the knee to say hello. James said Charlie has been coming around since the group started last summer.

"It's a real good thing," said one patron, who wouldn't give his name. "They don't care who you are, what you look like or what you smell like."

"They could be off doing something else, you know?" said another.