Familiar faces and lasting connections

Kenneth Winters has been a Street Spirit vendor in Berkeley long enough to be a de facto historian of the changing city. While he can’t put a number to the length of his expansive tenure, the familiarity between him and the pedestrians of Berkeley attests to countless years spent engaging with passersby, sharing prayers, smiles, and affirmations, and tracking the journey of the city where he was raised.

Winters began his career with Street Spirit selling papers outside The Reel—“the biggest little video store in Berkeley”—on Shattuck Avenue and Derby Street, which closed 15 years ago and now houses a dialysis clinic. He then tracked a path up Shattuck Avenue to land at his current “miracle spot” in front of Pegasus Books. Surrounded by a bookstore, three ATM machines, and a university crowd, Winters said the corner (where he occasionally vends with his daughter, Venus) has lent him myriad interactions that support him with income and positive engagement. 

At the end of each exchange, he asks customers if they’d like him to say a prayer. He goes to a Bible class every weekend, and uses the teachings to share a reflective moment with strangers. 

“People have told me, ‘You have a gift, the way you talk to people,’” Winters said. “You gotta keep it short, because babies are crying…and people have places to be.”

He said his penchant for being a “people person” comes from his training and travels as a musician. He plays the keys in the Blues Society band, which performs Mondays at Eli’s Mile High Club in Oakland. Music and performance has taken him everywhere from Canada to Puerto Rico, he said, including impressive local gigs, like opening for Smokey Robinson in San Francisco. 

“It goes along with the business of being connected,” Winters said.

Winters attended the now-closed Franklin and Le Conte (now Sylvia Mendez) elementary schools, and Willard Junior High, before graduating from Berkeley High School in 1967. The energy of Berkeley keeps him rooted, even as the city undergoes endless change, and he shares love with the city and its people as an ongoing exchange. 

“The lord got me here…nothing beats Berkeley for me,” said Winters. “I can’t find no better place in town to make my honest money with my badge selling these papers.” 

Each Saturday morning, Anthony King stands beaming at the corner of Center Street and Martin Luther King Jr. Way, ready to engage with customers as the “Welcomer of the farmers’ market” and a proud Street Spirit vendor. 

He centers love and joy in his approach, and he has seen the effects of his positive energy in practice. On occasion, a person who initially passed by with a sour expression or dismissive attitude will return to apologize, engage earnestly, and share where they’re coming from. Over time, he has built a reputation as a kind face at the farmers’ market, and someone who’s open to connection. His presence and efforts make people slow down, have a conversation, and create a break in their standard routine.

Anthony was introduced to the Street Spirit newspaper by his late wife, who was also a vendor. Together, they used to make 100 lunches twice a week and deliver the meals to people living on the street. After she passed, he picked up vending as a way to honor her life.

Loss and life experiences weigh heavy on his heart, but he focuses on spreading light, whether it be with strangers or his partner and family. He has four kids and five grandkids (all girls, save one boy), and he’s proud of his family.

“I pray every day, I keep my smile, I keep the people happy. Even when I’m in the grocery store I speak to people,” he said. “I’m out here every Saturday because I love the people.”

Anthony’s life has taken him down many career paths, including construction, security, and work at both Berkeley Bowl locations. His current work suits him, and though he lives in Antioch, he comes down to Berkeley on farmers’ market days to sell papers and receive support from kind customers. The routine brings him peace and keeps him busy.

He’s also looking forward to seeing his 60th birthday in the coming years, and he’s excited to mark it with singing, dancing, and celebration. The years have taught him that life is beautiful, as long as people lean on each other and share love.

“We have to look out for each other, because if we don’t—we’re in trouble,” he said.

Vernon Dailey, a hometown vendor, is a reliable presence for shoppers at Berkeley Bowl West. He has lived everywhere from Oakland and Richmond, to Las Vegas and Oklahoma. Now, he’s at home in the city where he was raised and attended four elementary schools, middle school, and high school. 

Dailey turns 68 this May, and has had a varied career over the years. He’s spent time as a landscape designer, plumber, mechanic, doing electrical work, roofing (a scary experience, he noted), and working at Oakland-based nonprofit Planting Justice. At Street Spirit, he has embraced a new role as a writer.

He now keeps a pen in his pocket to jot down important thoughts so he can craft a piece when the inspiration strikes. His most recent piece details “The life and times of Vernon Dailey,” including his six marriages (he’s done with marriage for now, he said) and his recent success in a local housing lottery that placed him in his own West Berkeley apartment near his childhood home on Browning Street. 

Dailey knows he’s grown as a writer because, these days, he has critics. When readers share feedback with him in person, he jokes, “This is my life story, I can’t go back and fix it!” 

Street Spirit has helped him develop his own interpersonal and professional skills, as well as facilitate connections with now-friends and supporters. Through his time vending in Berkeley and Fairfax, Vernon has met people who have set him up with a vehicle, and others who help him maintain financial stability and security.

The paper has also connected him to people who have made indelible impressions on his life. 

He was struck deeply by the recent passing of his dear friend, Derrick “Hustleman” Hayes, a beloved Street Spirit vendor and community figure.

“We sold papers together, he helped me out a lot and taught me a lot,” Dailey said. “Derrick was on a mission to sell papers.”

Rick Brown’s uniform—a cool, vintage red-and-white 49ers varsity jacket and complimentary beanie—meets you first. Then, Brown’s infectious energy enters the scene. At 63, Brown says he’s healthy, motivated, and always looking for ways to keep his work and routine fresh and interesting. Also, being a vendor keeps him out of trouble, he jokes.

In his previous career, Novato-born Brown spent 36 years in the carpenters drywall lathers union, constructing the bones of buildings from Santa Rosa to San Francisco. One of his favorite projects was the large-scale renovation of 50 UN Plaza, a Beaux Arts-style building that received millions in stimulus funds for its refurbishment in 2009. Because it’s a historic building, Brown said he had to use the same techniques and materials as the workers who built the grand edifice nearly a century ago. 

He also dedicated several years to coaching his son through youth, elementary, and high school football, marking his tenure with 32 wins. Brown’s proximity to sports throughout his life taught him discipline and grit, which he also credits to his father and his upbringing. 

“I was exposed to greatness and good, hard work,” Brown said, “I thank god for putting the right people in my life.”

Now, he regularly sells papers outside of the Walgreens on San Pablo Avenue and Gilman Street in West Berkeley, and says the work is “anything but boring.” One time, a customer (who turned out to be a film producer) asked if he’d be interested in appearing in his film. Brown ended up playing the role of a used car salesman in a film shot at a car rental shop on Gilman, and though he skipped the premiere in Mill Valley, he notes it as a memorable experience.

Over his years in Berkeley and Oakland, Brown has witnessed the impacts of the homelessness crisis, and a lack of resources for people with mental health issues. He sees specialized treatment as one path forward to lifting up unhoused residents who are unable to get their footing. 

“Just accept people and deal with them on an individual basis—don’t just judge them and group them up,” Brown said. 

His perspective continues to grow as he meets and engages with his West Berkeley neighbors.

“[Being a vendor] is something positive, and I try to learn something every day,” Brown said, “Like what, we get out of school and we stop learning? No—but how do we learn? We talk to each other.”