By 12 p.m. last Thursday, January 30, almost 50 people had already formed a line outside the Inn. The frigid temperatures had kept the usual amount about 150, according to Job from turning out.
The Claddagh Inn sits at the edge of a barren field, the site of Far Rockaways future Arverne-by-the-Sea housing development.
During the dead of winter, one of the coldest in years, there are few people on the streets except on Thursday afternoons.
On a typical Thursday, over 100 locals brave the frigid weather and line up in front of the small, squat one-story structure on Rockaway Beach Boulevard, patiently waiting for bags of assorted foods to supplement often meager diets.
The weekly gathering is a lifeline for some, a source of humiliation for others. Many who join the line at the Inns storefront have battled the streets and shelters, and they still struggle to stay afloat.
As one of the scores of food pantries across the city, the Claddagh Inn, formerly part of the Interfaith Nutrition Network (INN), services New Yorkers in financial need, an expanding group in recent months.
But the Inn is continuously struggling with financial problems of its own, and sometimes keeping up with the demand for services is difficult.
The community
wants us here.
On a recent Friday afternoon, Tony Job was navigating the narrow aisles of the Inns main room, a cold, dark space, overflowing with items donated by food banks and the Rockaway community piles of clothing stacked on sagging shelves, a multitude of canned foods, packaged pastries, prepared lunch bags. An inviting odor penetrated from the back room, the kitchen area.
Job, the Claddagh Inns director, was helping prepare lunches for a smaller group that frequents the Inn on Fridays.
"We have to work very hard to raise money to keep this program going," said the 50-year-old in his West African cadence, which has stayed with him since he left Nigeria to come to the United States more than 30 years ago.
That money, however, has not been as forthcoming because of the wider economic downturn. Job rails against the city and local politicians for failing to deliver the crucial financial funds needed by the Inn.
Recently deceased Assemblywoman Pauline Rhodd-Cummings used to allocate state money for the Inn, but her successor, Michele Titus, has not continued that allocation, according to Job.
And the citys Human Resources Administration (HRA) has stopped giving administrative grants, which helped with the tens of thousands of dollars needed for rent, electric bills and supplies for the food pantry.
"They havent paid a dime since 1999," said Job. "We have to take care of this social need, and the city is supposed to reimburse us, but weve had to struggle on our own."
A spokesman for the HRA was unavailable for comment at press time.
The Claddagh Inn gets much of its resources from private organizations, such as City Harvest and Food Bank for New York City, both of which have massive warehouses that distribute food to pantries and soups kitchens throughout the city. As Job spoke with The Queens Courier, a truck from the Food Bank dropped off 10 cases of frozen chicken.
Costco warehouse gave the Inn over 400 turkeys before Thanksgiving last year.
The community has been the crucial linchpin since city and state funds disappeared. Dozens of local stores and churches provide food, and individuals from throughout the peninsula donate time, money and goods to the Claddagh Inn.
"Were here because the community wants us to be here," said Job.
Indeed, it was a dedicated group of community activists that saved the Inn in the late 1990s, after a Long Island umbrella organization for soup kitchens, the INN, tried to close it.
Now, the food pantry is run by a committee of local residents, with Kathy Tipaldo as chair. Job deals with the day-to-day running of the Inn.
The latest show of community support came at the Inns packed Christmas party at the Saint Rose of Lima Church, with the FDNY bringing in hundreds of donated toys for local children.
I love this place.
For Elizabeth Richardson, the Claddagh Inn has been a stabilizing force. She speaks about the food pantry in an almost reverential tone.
"I love this place because of what it does for women and children," she said in an Alabama twang as she sifted through the Inns recent acquisitions. "I was homeless, I was abandoned."
"I couldnt believe that there was an institution in America where they didnt ask you any questions they just gave food and clothing."
Richardson, 54, lived a middle class life when she came to the northeast from her birthplace in the south. She is an educated woman, and she once had a job writing for a civil rights magazine.
But she was in an abusive relationship. In 1997, her husband abandoned her and their twin children, Emily and William. He also left them to face an eviction from their New Jersey home.
Richardson struggled to provide for her children. She had lost her job several years before. While fighting the eviction with court delays, she would cross into Manhattan periodically to go to the larger food pantries.
She vividly described one such trip, where she waited in the rain with her asthmatic children and over 400 other people to get food from a pantry on 9th Street.
"I was thinking, What did I do wrong in my life to get to this point?," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "What did I not plan? Am I such a bad person?
"But my thoughts didnt stop the rain."
Eventually, New Jerseys Department of Social Services arranged for Richardson and her children to get accommodation in New York City, at a domestic violence shelter in Elmhurst, Queens. The city helped her get low income housing in Far Rockaway, where she and the children now live.
"Some of my neighbors said to go to the Claddagh Inn. They said Id find help there."
Now, she goes to the Inn several times a week for food, clothing, even books over the past few years, Richardson says that she has received almost 2000 books there.
"Just about everything I have on is from the Claddagh Inn," she said, sweeping her hand over the heavy, black coat insulating her from the cold.
Its like were animals
Inside, as Job and several volunteers scrambled to put meals together, those on line waited in the cold, and one woman spoke of the frustration that often accompanies a trip to the Claddagh Inn.
"This is food for survival," said the woman, who wished to remain anonymous, and the lunch just looks like slop out of a can."
Usually, those waiting receive a styrofoam container with mixed, hot foods, such as turkey or chicken. They also get a bag with dried and canned foods, and pastries.
The woman, who now lives nearby, had spent a year in a Queens shelter with her two children after losing her Brooklyn apartment. After that experience, she would choose the streets instead of living in a shelter again.
She has a job in the city and an apartment, but she still struggles. The Inn is an important source for help, yet it also symbolizes a continued dependency.
"Its like were animals," said the womans friend, as the line slowly grew.
Job understands that, in its current state, the Claddagh Inn can only do so much to help those on the fringe of homelessness.
"Many [seeking services] have more needs than we can address," he said. "Were looking to do job development. Its a logical expansion."
Such an idea has been received favorably by Community Board 14 and the office of Borough President Helean Marshall.
For now, however, the Inn will continue to function with the limited resources it has, and Job is calling on locals to continue to do what they can to help.
