PHOENIX — Even though he was indoors, escaping the killer heat that has claimed as many as 19 lives in five days, beads of sweat glistened on William Butler's forehead. He leaned heavily against his walker.
"This is the toughest time of year for me," the 43-year-old homeless man said. "If hell's anything like this, Arizona's the first stop."
Butler was talking about more than the weather. A heat wave that has roasted Phoenix and shattered record temperatures across the western U.S. this week has also cast a light on a dark side of this boomtown -- its rapidly growing homeless population.
At least 15 of the people who died during the hot spell here were homeless.
The numbers in this fast-growing metropolis prompted action. Local businesses and residents donated 50,000 bottles of water for homeless shelters and the city dispatched teams to toss bottles of Gatorade to street people. The mayor, who earlier in the week asked Congress for emergency aid to help people pay air-conditioning bills, passed out water bottles Thursday near one of the city's largest shelters.
But advocates for the homeless warned that the need for services in Phoenix far outstripped what was available in a state ranked near the bottom in per capita spending on homeless services. It is seen as part of Arizona's traditional emphasis on individualism and limited government.
"This is a very self-reliant sort of a state," said Mark Holleran, chief executive officer of Central Arizona Shelter Services. "You pull yourself up by your bootstraps."
It's difficult to quantify the number of homeless people in Phoenix, but city officials estimate that it is 10,000 to 12,000 and growing.
"While a certain segment of us have benefited throughout the country, a certain segment hasn't, and they're turning more and more to the streets," Mayor Phil Gordon said.
Many also blame Phoenix's real estate boom, which has transformed its downtown.
Flophouses and cheap hotels have been replaced by gleaming office towers and ballparks. Residential prices have risen so fast that teachers and firefighters cannot afford to live in the city anymore, let alone janitors or those on disability. Some commute from distant suburbs; others wander the streets.
Few developers are willing to sell land to nonprofits or government agencies that construct transitional housing for homeless people and their families. "There's no shortage of people who want expensive housing, and that leaves low-income people in the dust," said Riann Henkin, homeless programs coordinator for the city.
