The barefoot woman sits so still and silently against the lamppost with an outstretched hand that she seems an extension of it, a statue dedicated to panhandling in the heart of Yorkville.
Lorraine "Grace" Beavis never pesters any of the thousands of suits and skirts that pass by her, and after an hour all she has to show for it is an empty coffee cup.
"Sometimes I sit for four or five hours without getting a dime," said Ms. Beavis, 46, who has been a fixture on the southwest corner of Bay and Bloor streets since staking her claim to the location in October. "Sometimes you're out of sight, out of mind."
Her assessment reflects a growing consensus among the legions of Toronto beggars: that any public sympathy they may have once elicited has given way to apathy and anger, exacerbated by a seemingly increasing presence of panhandlers and recent acts of violence allegedly perpetrated by them.
The stabbing death of tourist Ross Hammond, allegedly at the hands of four panhandlers frustrated with their victim's disdain for their request for change, prompted anger this week from panhandlers. But of course it has also triggered a powerful backlash among the public, and talk at city hall of outlawing begging on the streets.
"People would rather feed a dog than a human right now," said Jerry McEachern, 46, who claims his criminal background - he spent 12 years in prison for bank robbery in Manitoba - has kept him for years from landing a steady job and home.
"They're desensitized. They have donor fatigue," said Mr. McEachern, who uses a "Hungry" sign to solicit spare change. "I understand it. A guy walks five blocks and sees five homeless people. He gives one of them a buck, the next one a buck, and by the last one he's saying, 'What's going on?' "
The first-ever homeless census taken last year by the city's Shelter, Support and Housing Administration pegged the number of people without a permanent home at 5,052, including 818 who slept on the streets.
Five downtown shelters closed in the last year, two of them to be replaced by affordable housing. At the same time, the city claims its shelter system has found homes for 9,000 people in the past two years, in addition to 1,300 homeless people housed through the Streets to Homes program.
Pinning down the number of panhandlers is more difficult because not all panhandlers are homeless - Ms. Beavis, for example, commutes from Scarborough each day. The survey found that about 17 per cent of the homeless, or roughly 860 people, panhandled regularly to make ends meet.
If the hostility has given panhandlers pause, it has not stanched their efforts. Ironically, panhandlers say the backlash has made holding fast to specific locations that much more critical. Keeping to one spot can help foster a rapport with the community. And in today's climate, being the familiar face on the corner can be the difference between scrounging enough change for a hot breakfast or a beer and a hostile reception.
"There are some people who are sympathetic, I think, because they see me here all the time," said Sonya McLaughlin, 30, who had been begging around Queen and Bathurst for three months before investing in a squeegee a week ago.
Still, times are tough enough, Ms. McLaughlin said, that she cannot afford to ask motorists whether they want their windshields washed. "I know I should ask first. It's the polite thing to do," she said. However, "If I asked first all day, I wouldn't make a dime," she added.
Competition for coveted spots has grown fierce in recent years, leading to fistfights on busy intersections and outside popular tourist venues that attract heavy foot traffic and potential donors.
"You got a guy playing the fiddle over there, a bagpiper over there - how am I supposed to compete with that?" said William Hadley, 63, a panhandler at Yonge and Bloor whose only prop was a Beer Store toque. "You can't make any money that way, but I'm too old to fight them."
Edward, a mainstay at Yonge Street and St. Clair Avenue, told of inheriting his spot two years ago from a panhandler named Simon - "an alcoholic who got hooked on mouthwash" and died.
"People know that if they take my spot I'll ask them to leave, and if they don't I'll bounce them, plain and simple," said Edward, 37, who declined to give his last name. He lost his job in construction six years ago after suffering an aneurysm, he said, and government disability assistance helps him rent a room.
There is an etiquette to panhandling, and for the most part it is followed, panhandlers say. It includes steering clear of locations already inhabited, ceding a spot to a panhandler known to frequent the area, and avoiding pestering passersby with anything more than a modest, "Could you spare some change?"
Some panhandlers share corners, switching at certain times of the day to avoid wearing out their welcome. They also share collections, dropping spare change in the cup of a friendly competitor who can't seem to convince passersby that he's worth a thin dime.
"It's like working shift work sometimes: One guy goes here, one guy goes there, and then you switch," said Jeff Krausse, 41, who was hawking the street newspaper Outreach near the Eaton Centre this week. "You try to help each other when you can. There's a respect."
Not everybody follows the rules, of course, and the stabbing death of Mr. Hammond and the recent beating of a 79-year-old former surgeon in Vancouver by a beggar apparently disappointed with the doctor's $5 donation have outraged panhandlers.
"I'm really suffering for it," said Alicia, 19, who was recently approaching cars stopped at Queen and Bathurst streets, hat in hand, with little luck. "Because of what happened, people are terrified of us. They roll up their windows when I walk by. We're not all bad."
Not only have their reputations and livelihoods suffered because of a few bad apples, panhandlers say, but the incidents have given authorities reason to expand what advocates say is already wide latitude in policing the homeless, under Ontario's Safe Streets Act of 1999, intended to curb "aggressive panhandling."
Ms. Beavis only began working her present corner because she was run out of the area around Yonge and Wellesley streets by police - who, in the span of six months, issued her 27 separate tickets totalling $2,160 in fines for violations such as littering and encumbering the sidewalk.
Toronto police statistics provided to The Globe suggest that a crackdown on panhandling is under way, and has been escalating for a couple of years. As of Wednesday, the department had issued 6,264 tickets for violations of the Safe Streets Act in 2007, putting the city on pace for a 57-per-cent increase over all of last year, when 6,497 tickets were handed out.
Perhaps most indicative of the sweep is the fact that the 1,417 tickets issued this year to date for "soliciting in an aggressive manner" have already surpassed the total of 1,257 in 2006. Just 578 "aggressive manner" tickets were issued in 2005, and 368 in 2004.
Police spokesman Constable George Schuurman denied that officers have a mandate to rid the streets of panhandlers, but said that enforcement of Safe Streets has become "a priority" for 52 Division, which oversees the west side of the downtown core, "because of an increase in community complaints and complaints from business associations and residents."
Damian Anderson already knows that enforcement is up. The 22-year-old Montreal native, who claims he is trying to get to Calgary to look for work, said he and other homeless people in Kensington Market's Bellevue Square were awakened Tuesday night by police. "A lot of people sleep there, but for some reason the cops said we couldn't," Mr. Anderson said. "Nothing happened. They just don't want us around."
Not all signs point to a hardening public attitude. Advocates report there are more volunteers helping the homeless than ever before, and countless random acts of kindness every day.
Mr. Anderson, who carries a "Hungry, Travelling and Broke" sign, experienced one such act this week when he woke from a nap to find two bananas, a sandwich and a package of nuts waiting for him. He devoured them as he spoke.
"I think a lot of people understand that not everyone is in the same shoes," he said. "I'm a really nice person, I think. If someone says to me, 'Get a job,' or something, I just tell them to have a nice day. I know that people don't owe me anything."