Living in the woods, man says he doesn’t want to be a burden

By Jeanne Starmack

Doug has been in the woods for more than 20 years.

NEW CASTLE, Pa. — Doug was sleeping when unexpected visitors dropped in last week.

Maybe that would annoy most people, but Doug, a laid-back man with a soft voice, took it pretty well in stride — even though he’s not used to getting company.

“Doug?” called Bob Zingaro, a New Castle man who volunteers with Patches Place, an organization on Mill Street that offers services for mentally ill people.

“He’s coming,” Zingaro said, while inside his makeshift tent, Doug was undoubtedly shaking off the remnants of sleep.

A rude awakening? Maybe. But for a man whose home has been a shelter made of tarps in woods outside New Castle for more than 20 years, he’s likely had them before.

Doug crawled out from inside his shelter, which covers a boxspring he found on the riverbank and some bedding that has seen better days.

He’s a rather big man with a bushy, gray beard, and even though it wasn’t a very cold afternoon, he was bundled in a gray winter jacket.

Douglas Perrine, 50, homeless since 1983 and in the New Castle area since 1985, sat down on a large dead tree branch outside his shelter. He told his guests, Zingaro, Patches Place staff worker Angela Hagberg and a Vindicator reporter to sit down as well.

His visitors wanted to know how he was doing, if he needed anything, and ultimately, if there wasn’t some way to get him to come back to Patches Place, where 90 of their 221 clients are homeless. Doug had been there only once.

Hot showers await him there, Hagberg reminded him.

“I’m going to give you a lot of food,” she said. “We have a food pantry.”

“I don’t want to take advantage,” he replied.

That seems to be a central theme with Doug. He doesn’t want to be a burden. His two adult children have offered to take him in. He won’t go.

His tells his story simply, including the beginning and the end but leaving out the meddlesome details of the middle: He and his wife, who lived in Grove City, split up. “And this is where I ended up at.”

Other homeless people in New Castle travel in groups and set up camps, but Doug lives alone. He does get lonely, he admits. His routine consists of going into town to search for food “in Dumpsters.” He takes along a backpack, the kind kids take to school, that he found in one of those large trash receptacles.

“If I got some change, I go drink coffee and socialize with people,” he said. “I’ve never had no problems with people up until this year.”

Very much on Doug’s mind that afternoon was an episode that happened about a week earlier, when, he says, he was beaten by four or five men who pulled him into a car.

“They pulled up in a car and was acting like they was cops and stuff,” he said. “They were grabbing me in my private parts and stuff, laughing like it was a joke. I was like, ‘What the hell is this s---?’ They stole my hat.”

Hagberg’s and Zingaro’s ears perked, because it wasn’t the first time they’d heard that story. Other homeless people have been talking about a group of young men pretending to be police just long enough to get them to stop — then, they’ve attacked them.

Hagberg and Zingaro pressed Doug for as many details as he could remember about the men.

Also on Doug’s mind is his missing wallet, which he believes was stolen, and Social Security payments he believes he’s entitled to.

Hagberg and Zingaro are encouraged by what he has to say, believing that if he is entitled to benefits, they could help him get an apartment.

“Come in tomorrow and we’ll get you a place,” Hagberg said.

“Cool,” Doug replied. “I’d rather be in a place. I’ve been wanting to get out of the wilderness for a long time. And if it keeps me from getting beat up ... ”

As they were leaving, Doug’s visitors pondered over what psychological or emotional forces would keep a man in the woods for decades, especially if he were offered help.

The next day, Doug did not go to Patches Place.