Sidewalk ambassadors

Monday, February 12, 2007

Henry J. Gomez

Plain Dealer Reporter

Since April, the DowntownCleveland Alliance's Cleanand Safety Ambassadorshave swept up tons of trash andgreeted thousands of pedestrians.

They stand out in their brightyellow and blue uniforms andwith their friendly personalities.But, like the U.S. Postal Service,they work through rain, hail, sleetand snow.

And sub-freezing temperatures.On Wednesday, Jan. 24, I accompaniedseveral ambassadorsas they filled trash bags, cleanedalleys and interacted with people.

Here's how our day went:6:55 a.m.: After an easy drive downtown- traffic is light on the WestShoreway at 6:30 - I open the door toBlock By Block's base at 1648 St. ClairAve.

I feel dressed for the day: Two Tshirts,a hooded sweatshirt and a heavywinter coat. I forgot my gloves and hat,but I think the layers will keep mewarm enough.

"Aren't you gonna be cold?" asks thefirst woman to greet me.Inside, it smells like bacon and eggs,probably because Danny's Deli is servingbreakfast next door. Team leaderShawntae Berry welcomes me. "Helpyourself to coffee," she says.

I'm a few minutes early for the 7o'clock huddle, so I grab a seat. I count16 Clean Ambassadors already in the office.Most are bundled up in heavy,bright yellow or blue coats.

At 7 sharp, Berry convenes the morningmeeting with a weather report."Good morning. The high today willbe 28, the low 18."

7:25 a.m.: The ambassadors havemoved out to the garage and are gatheringequipment for their shift. They linetheir yellow trash cans with the day'sfirst bags.

The garage opens into a back alley thatspills into downtown's core. A photographerand I join Dale Martin, a jovial manwith a huge smile. The three of us walkslowly out of the alley with the other ambassadors,a crowd that eventually thinsas we reach certain intersections.

"Early is the usual for me," says the51-year-old East Clevelander, who hasbeen an ambassador since last fall. "As achild I loved the outdoors. When I sawthese guys walking around downtown, Isaid to myself: 'That's the type of job Iwant.'"

7:45 a.m.: We're headed towardPublic Square, Martin's assigneddistrict most days.

Anywhere but the Theater District:"The graveyard," Martinsays. "It's lonely down there."We approach Key Tower, abuilding Martin knows well.

For eight years he worked in themail room at Thompson Hine, alarge Cleveland law firm on the39th floor. As a messenger, hewalked downtown carrying legalfiles, not a broom and a dustpan.Just south of the skyscraper,Martin sweeps up a Dunkin' Donutsbag. Onward.

8:00 a.m.: Eight o'clock check.Martin, No. 23, must radio Berrywith his whereabouts.

By this time, ambassadors areexpected to be cleaning their districts.We made it to the center ofPublic Square - between TerminalTower and Key Tower - withminutes to spare.

Martin sweeps trash off thesidewalks and from inside bushuts along Ontario Street.8:25 a.m.: Martin slowly hasworked his way to the north side ofEuclid Avenue and Public Square,directly across from the main entranceto Tower City Center.

So far, he has swept up coffeecups, cigarette butts and countlessother papers.

But the No. 1 form of litter:"Newspapers," Martin says.

Across the street we spotJohnny, a fellow ambassador. Martinand Johnny confer for a fewmoments before Martin returns tohis side of Public Square.

"Johnny's already taken care ofthings over there," Martin reports.8:40 a.m.: The first of Martin'shandful of garbage bags is noteven a quarter full.

"On a good day," he says as heworks his way around the frontof Tower City, "I'll fill six or sevenbags. Usually at least five. On aday like today, I'll probably filltwo or three."

This being a slow day, the conversationturns deep.

Until now, we've talked aboutMartin's love for exercise and theoutdoors and how he has spent hisentire life, save for a brief stay inNashville, in Greater Cleveland.Now we're talking about family -his three children and four grandchildren- and faith.

He is divorced after 23 years ofmarriage. That he doesn't like totalk about.

The grandkids are a differentstory. "They keep me young," hesays with a smile.

He has lost touch with one ofhis children and has yet to meet anewborn granddaughter. "Youknow how kids gets when theyget older," he says. "They growaway from their parents."

We're on Prospect Avenuenow, and Martin is sweeping cigarettebutts from alongside thecurb. A flattened Miller GenuineDraft beer can also makes it intohis dustpan. He talks about howhe once would preach regularlyat church. What denomination?"I'm a Christian, and I thinkthat's all that matters," he says.

9:00 a.m.: Team leader ShawntaeBerry picks me up at Ontarioand Prospect.

We cruise in the yellow pickupt r u c k e m b l a z o n e d w i t h t h eDowntown Cleveland Alliance insigniato my next assignment:The special projects team.

Berry has been with Block ByBlock since it opened here inMay. The Detroit native, in betweenradio calls from ambassadorsstill out in the field, explainswhy she's good at her job.

"I'm a people person," shesays. And in this business, that'sa prerequisite.

A cold ambassador radios in:"Going inside to warm up for afew minutes," he says.

The ambassadors, particularlywhen it's cold outside, are encouragedto take a break. A numberof downtown businesses allowthem to come inside andwarm up.

"No problem," Berry says. "Youtake a few minutes."

9:15 a.m.: Clarence Davis sureknows how to make an introduction."WELCOME," Davis loudly announces,"to the Special ProjectsTeam." We're sitting next to eachother in the back seat of an extended-cab pickup.

Davis is bundled up in dark blueand chatting away. He and driverJohn Stirtmire have done specialprojects for the ambassadors programsince it began last spring.

Riding shotgun is Tennille Ballard,an ambassador who is shadowingthe team in hopes of joining soon.With Davis on board, Stirtmireand Ballard don't get many wordsin.

"See those over there?" Davisasks as he points to light poles atan intersection. "We painted thosepoles. See those poles over there?See them peeling? We'll be paintingthose soon."

There are many things Davissays the Special Projects Team willget to soon - most are touch-upsand paint jobs that they prefer tohold off on until the weatherbreaks.

That's not all Special Projectsdoes, Davis says, now hamming itup. "We give A-1 customer service.

We talk to people passing by. Wehope to brighten someone's day."9:35 a.m.: Davis is mad.

"We won't have this in downtownCleveland!" he shouts as westroll down a darkened and dirtyalley behind the Harry Buffalo,near Jacobs Field and The Q.

After 15 minutes of talkingabout what the Special ProjectsTeam has done and will do, we'reactually doing something. Stirtmireand Davis have grabbedshovels from the back of thetruck and are digging through amound of snow stained brown bykitchen grease.

"These are the sloppy jobs,"Davis shrugs as he digs in formore. He turns to his partner.

"Mr. Stirtmire, I know it'skinda slippery, but we're gonnaget it all. Some people would say,'Oh, the snow will take care ofthis mess.' Not Special Projects!"9:55 a.m.: From one nightlifeneighborhood to another, we'renow on West Sixth Street in theheart of the Warehouse District,between Lakeside and St. Clairavenues.

It's time to clean some treegrates.

Those iron coverings that hidethe mulch and hold down thelandscaping get nasty, especiallyin winter, when they're evenharder to clean. What's amazingis what actually slides throughopenings. Then again, flattenedbeer cans (yes, more) can fit justabout anywhere.

"You can help, too, you know,"Stirtmire says.

Why not? I immediately callwhat should have been the easiestjob. "I'll help put the gratesback on," I say. Remember, I leftmy gloves at home. But how hardcould it be?

I lift. I wince.

"Watch out," Stirtmire cautions."They're heavy."

Cold, too.

Meanwhile, Davis is practicinghis "customer service." TheDowntown Cleveland Allianceencourages ambassadors to interactwith people, say hello andmake them feel welcome.

Davis embraces this part of thejob. He chatters away constantly,offering "good mornings" leftand right. Some respond withequal enthusiasm. Others weaklyreply or ignore him.

"That's OK," Davis says. "Theycan hear me. Maybe they don'twant to respond. Maybe they'rehaving a bad day. But they hearme. That's what customer serviceis all about."

Two women walk by, one helpingthe other along.

"That's right, take care ofmama, now," Davis calls.

"This is my sister," the womanreplies.

Whoops.

10:35 a.m.: After a few morestops - mostly to identify projectsthey have worked on or willreturn to work on - we're coastingsomewhat aimlessly throughdowntown.

When asked how random peopletreat him, Davis lets his always-positive guard down.

Most treat him well, but Davisrecalls one downtown merchantwho accused him of wasting taxpayermoney, which actuallydoes not pay for the ambassadorsprogram.

Davis says the merchant alsoaccused him of hitting on womenin the neighborhood.

Stirtmire nods his head in confirmation.Not everyone has warmed tothe ambassadors.

10:45 a.m.: We're back on WestSixth Street - this time betweenSuperior and St. Clair.

Stirtmire is ready for lunch -he has said so twice - but he andDavis decide to identify a fewmore tree grates to tend to aftertheir break. In front of theRockefeller Building, Davis isrambling about safety. "Safetyfirst," he says while pretendingto trip over an uneven grate,which he proclaims a "trippinghazard." The trio agrees to returnto the location after lunch.

11:00 a.m.: Afternoon-shiftworkers - mostly Safety Ambassadors- begin to arrive at base,while some morning-shifters driftback in to take their lunch break.

I decide to spend a few minuteswith Charlie Stevens, Block ByBlock's operations manager. Stevensis a numbers guy. He tells methe Clean Ambassadors picked up137,000 pounds between May andDec. 31. He whips out a calculatorto do the math. "That's about 68tons."

And, "that's not even a full year.And we'll get better at it as wemove forward."

Stevens says that 25 of Block ByBlock's initial 40 hires are still withthe company, which employs about50 now. All but about eight ofthose employees work on thestreets.

"People get to know them on afirst-name basis," Stevens says. "It'sexciting."

11:30 a.m.: The second shift beginsmuch like the first.

"Today's high: 28," ShawntaeBerry tells a group of eight. "Thelow: 18."

Berry informs the Safety Ambassadors,who work until 8 p.m., ofspecial events tonight, including aCavaliers game at The Q. She alsoinforms Justin Luster that I'll bepaired with him.

"That's because he's our star," aco-worker says. Luster just smiles.11:40 a.m.: Turns out Luster is astar.

After he pulls on a ski mask anda Downtown Cleveland Alliancestocking cap, we head toward theTheater District, his usual territory.

Luster says he loves his job, but hehas bigger plans. The 21-year-old isan aspiring gospel singer and minister.He pulls out a business card forthe Northern Stars, a group he assembledwith musicians fromaround Greater Cleveland. Lustersings tenor and is the group's bookingmanager.

Luster, who grew up near Lima,says he briefly attended Baldwin-Wallace College on a football scholarshipbut left school after an incidentwith a teammate.

Now, despite a promising gospelmusic career, Luster hopes to completehis education.

"I want to be a pastor," he says."That's my goal."

Noon: Dale Martin was rightabout the Theater District, a.k.a.the graveyard. It is lonely here.Even with lunch hour upon us,Luster and I see few people bravingthe cold.

I ask Luster a bit about the job.So far, it seems kind of boring tome. There are only so manytimes you can walk by the Starbucksat the Hanna Building.

"I basically just walk around,"he says. "Sometimes people askme for directions."

As a Safety Ambassador, Luster'smain duty is to keep an eyeon things. If he sees an emergencyor witnesses an aggressivepanhandler, he calls for help. Ifsomeone is lost, he points themon their way. If someone needs abus schedule, he assists.

The weirdest thing he has everseen: "Once, this guy was eatinga bird." Not a chicken.

But there is nothing happeningtoday that even approachessuch excitement. I ask if this is atypical day or a slow day. "A reallyslow day," Luster replies.

12:30 p.m.: Our really slow daycontinues.

I've learned a lot about Luster,who grew up on a farm in westernOhio and now lives in Bedford. Heonce worked on a runway crew atCleveland Hopkins InternationalAirport. He likes to spend hisweekends singing and studying forthe ministry. He doesn't drink,smoke or party.

The ambassador job puts someextra money in his pocket andkeeps him in shape. When theweather is warmer, he is allowedto ride a bicycle through downtown.

I ask if people are friendly. Mostare, Luster says. But, like Davis, hehas run into a few who complain.Some people incorrectly accusehim of being a waste of taxpayers'money. Others think he and theother ambassadors are stealing cityjobs that are supported by taxpayers.

But Luster, like Berry, Davis andMartin, is a people person. He'sBlock By Block's star because hehas a big smile, a friendly personalityand polished manners.

After an hour of walking andtalking, I leave Luster and take myown lunch break.

3:00 p.m.: I've been off thestreets for about two hours now.But I have returned to Block ByBlock's base to follow up with Martinand the Special Projects Team.Their shifts are ending.

Martin arrives first, big smile onhis face.

"Hey, you're back!" he says. Heshows me a log he and others mustfill out at the end of each day. Today,he filled two trash bags andassisted four pedestrians and threemotorists.

His cleaning day was cut short,however, when he was asked tohelp set up for a Downtown ClevelandAlliance luncheon. "I waswith the big dogs," Martin says.

3:05 p.m.: Stirtmire, Ballardand Davis are back now.

Davis is eager to report howthe team's afternoon projectswent. They assisted four pedestriansand cleaned four more treegrates. And, of course, "customerservice," Davis says.

As I say goodbye to all of thea m b a s s a d o r s , o n e a s k s m e :

"Were you cold?"

Sure, I replied. "But you were,too, right?"

"Yeah."

That's the job.

To reach this Plain Dealer reporter:hgomez@plaind.com, 216-999-5405



Sidewalk ambassadors Monday, February 12, 2007 Henry J. Gomez Plain Dealer Reporter Since April, the DowntownCleveland Alliance's Cleanand Safety Ambassadorshave swept up tons of trash andgreeted thousands of pedestrians. They stand out in their brightyellow and blue uniforms andwith their friendly personalities.But, like the U.S. Postal Service,they work through rain, hail, sleetand snow. And sub-freezing temperatures.On Wednesday, Jan. 24, I accompaniedseveral ambassadorsas they filled trash bags, cleanedalleys and interacted with people. Here's how our day went:6:55 a.m.: After an easy drive downtown- traffic is light on the WestShoreway at 6:30 - I open the door toBlock By Block's base at 1648 St. ClairAve. I feel dressed for the day: Two Tshirts,a hooded sweatshirt and a heavywinter coat. I forgot my gloves and hat,but I think the layers will keep mewarm enough. "Aren't you gonna be cold?" asks thefirst woman to greet me.Inside, it smells like bacon and eggs,probably because Danny's Deli is servingbreakfast next door. Team leaderShawntae Berry welcomes me. "Helpyourself to coffee," she says. I'm a few minutes early for the 7o'clock huddle, so I grab a seat. I count16 Clean Ambassadors already in the office.Most are bundled up in heavy,bright yellow or blue coats. At 7 sharp, Berry convenes the morningmeeting with a weather report."Good morning. The high today willbe 28, the low 18." 7:25 a.m.: The ambassadors havemoved out to the garage and are gatheringequipment for their shift. They linetheir yellow trash cans with the day'sfirst bags. The garage opens into a back alley thatspills into downtown's core. A photographerand I join Dale Martin, a jovial manwith a huge smile. The three of us walkslowly out of the alley with the other ambassadors,a crowd that eventually thinsas we reach certain intersections. "Early is the usual for me," says the51-year-old East Clevelander, who hasbeen an ambassador since last fall. "As achild I loved the outdoors. When I sawthese guys walking around downtown, Isaid to myself: 'That's the type of job Iwant.'" 7:45 a.m.: We're headed towardPublic Square, Martin's assigneddistrict most days. Anywhere but the Theater District:"The graveyard," Martinsays. "It's lonely down there."We approach Key Tower, abuilding Martin knows well. For eight years he worked in themail room at Thompson Hine, alarge Cleveland law firm on the39th floor. As a messenger, hewalked downtown carrying legalfiles, not a broom and a dustpan.Just south of the skyscraper,Martin sweeps up a Dunkin' Donutsbag. Onward. 8:00 a.m.: Eight o'clock check.Martin, No. 23, must radio Berrywith his whereabouts. By this time, ambassadors areexpected to be cleaning their districts.We made it to the center ofPublic Square - between TerminalTower and Key Tower - withminutes to spare. Martin sweeps trash off thesidewalks and from inside bushuts along Ontario Street.8:25 a.m.: Martin slowly hasworked his way to the north side ofEuclid Avenue and Public Square,directly across from the main entranceto Tower City Center. So far, he has swept up coffeecups, cigarette butts and countlessother papers. But the No. 1 form of litter:"Newspapers," Martin says. Across the street we spotJohnny, a fellow ambassador. Martinand Johnny confer for a fewmoments before Martin returns tohis side of Public Square. "Johnny's already taken care ofthings over there," Martin reports.8:40 a.m.: The first of Martin'shandful of garbage bags is noteven a quarter full. "On a good day," he says as heworks his way around the frontof Tower City, "I'll fill six or sevenbags. Usually at least five. On aday like today, I'll probably filltwo or three." This being a slow day, the conversationturns deep. Until now, we've talked aboutMartin's love for exercise and theoutdoors and how he has spent hisentire life, save for a brief stay inNashville, in Greater Cleveland.Now we're talking about family -his three children and four grandchildren- and faith. He is divorced after 23 years ofmarriage. That he doesn't like totalk about. The grandkids are a differentstory. "They keep me young," hesays with a smile. He has lost touch with one ofhis children and has yet to meet anewborn granddaughter. "Youknow how kids gets when theyget older," he says. "They growaway from their parents." We're on Prospect Avenuenow, and Martin is sweeping cigarettebutts from alongside thecurb. A flattened Miller GenuineDraft beer can also makes it intohis dustpan. He talks about howhe once would preach regularlyat church. What denomination?"I'm a Christian, and I thinkthat's all that matters," he says. 9:00 a.m.: Team leader ShawntaeBerry picks me up at Ontarioand Prospect. We cruise in the yellow pickupt r u c k e m b l a z o n e d w i t h t h eDowntown Cleveland Alliance insigniato my next assignment:The special projects team. Berry has been with Block ByBlock since it opened here inMay. The Detroit native, in betweenradio calls from ambassadorsstill out in the field, explainswhy she's good at her job. "I'm a people person," shesays. And in this business, that'sa prerequisite. A cold ambassador radios in:"Going inside to warm up for afew minutes," he says. The ambassadors, particularlywhen it's cold outside, are encouragedto take a break. A numberof downtown businesses allowthem to come inside andwarm up. "No problem," Berry says. "Youtake a few minutes." 9:15 a.m.: Clarence Davis sureknows how to make an introduction."WELCOME," Davis loudly announces,"to the Special ProjectsTeam." We're sitting next to eachother in the back seat of an extended-cab pickup. Davis is bundled up in dark blueand chatting away. He and driverJohn Stirtmire have done specialprojects for the ambassadors programsince it began last spring. Riding shotgun is Tennille Ballard,an ambassador who is shadowingthe team in hopes of joining soon.With Davis on board, Stirtmireand Ballard don't get many wordsin. "See those over there?" Davisasks as he points to light poles atan intersection. "We painted thosepoles. See those poles over there?See them peeling? We'll be paintingthose soon." There are many things Davissays the Special Projects Team willget to soon - most are touch-upsand paint jobs that they prefer tohold off on until the weatherbreaks. That's not all Special Projectsdoes, Davis says, now hamming itup. "We give A-1 customer service. We talk to people passing by. Wehope to brighten someone's day."9:35 a.m.: Davis is mad. "We won't have this in downtownCleveland!" he shouts as westroll down a darkened and dirtyalley behind the Harry Buffalo,near Jacobs Field and The Q. After 15 minutes of talkingabout what the Special ProjectsTeam has done and will do, we'reactually doing something. Stirtmireand Davis have grabbedshovels from the back of thetruck and are digging through amound of snow stained brown bykitchen grease. "These are the sloppy jobs,"Davis shrugs as he digs in formore. He turns to his partner. "Mr. Stirtmire, I know it'skinda slippery, but we're gonnaget it all. Some people would say,'Oh, the snow will take care ofthis mess.' Not Special Projects!"9:55 a.m.: From one nightlifeneighborhood to another, we'renow on West Sixth Street in theheart of the Warehouse District,between Lakeside and St. Clairavenues. It's time to clean some treegrates. Those iron coverings that hidethe mulch and hold down thelandscaping get nasty, especiallyin winter, when they're evenharder to clean. What's amazingis what actually slides throughopenings. Then again, flattenedbeer cans (yes, more) can fit justabout anywhere. "You can help, too, you know,"Stirtmire says. Why not? I immediately callwhat should have been the easiestjob. "I'll help put the gratesback on," I say. Remember, I leftmy gloves at home. But how hardcould it be? I lift. I wince. "Watch out," Stirtmire cautions."They're heavy." Cold, too. Meanwhile, Davis is practicinghis "customer service." TheDowntown Cleveland Allianceencourages ambassadors to interactwith people, say hello andmake them feel welcome. Davis embraces this part of thejob. He chatters away constantly,offering "good mornings" leftand right. Some respond withequal enthusiasm. Others weaklyreply or ignore him. "That's OK," Davis says. "Theycan hear me. Maybe they don'twant to respond. Maybe they'rehaving a bad day. But they hearme. That's what customer serviceis all about." Two women walk by, one helpingthe other along. "That's right, take care ofmama, now," Davis calls. "This is my sister," the womanreplies. Whoops. 10:35 a.m.: After a few morestops - mostly to identify projectsthey have worked on or willreturn to work on - we're coastingsomewhat aimlessly throughdowntown. When asked how random peopletreat him, Davis lets his always-positive guard down. Most treat him well, but Davisrecalls one downtown merchantwho accused him of wasting taxpayermoney, which actuallydoes not pay for the ambassadorsprogram. Davis says the merchant alsoaccused him of hitting on womenin the neighborhood. Stirtmire nods his head in confirmation.Not everyone has warmed tothe ambassadors. 10:45 a.m.: We're back on WestSixth Street - this time betweenSuperior and St. Clair. Stirtmire is ready for lunch -he has said so twice - but he andDavis decide to identify a fewmore tree grates to tend to aftertheir break. In front of theRockefeller Building, Davis isrambling about safety. "Safetyfirst," he says while pretendingto trip over an uneven grate,which he proclaims a "trippinghazard." The trio agrees to returnto the location after lunch. 11:00 a.m.: Afternoon-shiftworkers - mostly Safety Ambassadors- begin to arrive at base,while some morning-shifters driftback in to take their lunch break. I decide to spend a few minuteswith Charlie Stevens, Block ByBlock's operations manager. Stevensis a numbers guy. He tells methe Clean Ambassadors picked up137,000 pounds between May andDec. 31. He whips out a calculatorto do the math. "That's about 68tons." And, "that's not even a full year.And we'll get better at it as wemove forward." Stevens says that 25 of Block ByBlock's initial 40 hires are still withthe company, which employs about50 now. All but about eight ofthose employees work on thestreets. "People get to know them on afirst-name basis," Stevens says. "It'sexciting." 11:30 a.m.: The second shift beginsmuch like the first. "Today's high: 28," ShawntaeBerry tells a group of eight. "Thelow: 18." Berry informs the Safety Ambassadors,who work until 8 p.m., ofspecial events tonight, including aCavaliers game at The Q. She alsoinforms Justin Luster that I'll bepaired with him. "That's because he's our star," aco-worker says. Luster just smiles.11:40 a.m.: Turns out Luster is astar. After he pulls on a ski mask anda Downtown Cleveland Alliancestocking cap, we head toward theTheater District, his usual territory. Luster says he loves his job, but hehas bigger plans. The 21-year-old isan aspiring gospel singer and minister.He pulls out a business card forthe Northern Stars, a group he assembledwith musicians fromaround Greater Cleveland. Lustersings tenor and is the group's bookingmanager. Luster, who grew up near Lima,says he briefly attended Baldwin-Wallace College on a football scholarshipbut left school after an incidentwith a teammate. Now, despite a promising gospelmusic career, Luster hopes to completehis education. "I want to be a pastor," he says."That's my goal." Noon: Dale Martin was rightabout the Theater District, a.k.a.the graveyard. It is lonely here.Even with lunch hour upon us,Luster and I see few people bravingthe cold. I ask Luster a bit about the job.So far, it seems kind of boring tome. There are only so manytimes you can walk by the Starbucksat the Hanna Building. "I basically just walk around,"he says. "Sometimes people askme for directions." As a Safety Ambassador, Luster'smain duty is to keep an eyeon things. If he sees an emergencyor witnesses an aggressivepanhandler, he calls for help. Ifsomeone is lost, he points themon their way. If someone needs abus schedule, he assists. The weirdest thing he has everseen: "Once, this guy was eatinga bird." Not a chicken. But there is nothing happeningtoday that even approachessuch excitement. I ask if this is atypical day or a slow day. "A reallyslow day," Luster replies. 12:30 p.m.: Our really slow daycontinues. I've learned a lot about Luster,who grew up on a farm in westernOhio and now lives in Bedford. Heonce worked on a runway crew atCleveland Hopkins InternationalAirport. He likes to spend hisweekends singing and studying forthe ministry. He doesn't drink,smoke or party. The ambassador job puts someextra money in his pocket andkeeps him in shape. When theweather is warmer, he is allowedto ride a bicycle through downtown. I ask if people are friendly. Mostare, Luster says. But, like Davis, hehas run into a few who complain.Some people incorrectly accusehim of being a waste of taxpayers'money. Others think he and theother ambassadors are stealing cityjobs that are supported by taxpayers. But Luster, like Berry, Davis andMartin, is a people person. He'sBlock By Block's star because hehas a big smile, a friendly personalityand polished manners. After an hour of walking andtalking, I leave Luster and take myown lunch break. 3:00 p.m.: I've been off thestreets for about two hours now.But I have returned to Block ByBlock's base to follow up with Martinand the Special Projects Team.Their shifts are ending. Martin arrives first, big smile onhis face. "Hey, you're back!" he says. Heshows me a log he and others mustfill out at the end of each day. Today,he filled two trash bags andassisted four pedestrians and threemotorists. His cleaning day was cut short,however, when he was asked tohelp set up for a Downtown ClevelandAlliance luncheon. "I waswith the big dogs," Martin says. 3:05 p.m.: Stirtmire, Ballardand Davis are back now. Davis is eager to report howthe team's afternoon projectswent. They assisted four pedestriansand cleaned four more treegrates. And, of course, "customerservice," Davis says. As I say goodbye to all of thea m b a s s a d o r s , o n e a s k s m e : "Were you cold?" Sure, I replied. "But you were,too, right?" "Yeah." That's the job. To reach this Plain Dealer reporter:hgomez@plaind.com, 216-999-5405 © 2007 The Plain Dealer © 2007 cleveland.com All Rights Reserved.