Down on his luck and out of work, Marc D. Goldfinger, a homeless heroin addict who by his own admission hadn't worked an honest day's work in years, found an organization that needed him.

Goldfinger first started working as a vendor for Spare Change, a newspaper run entirely by members of the homeless community, in 1993.

"I came aboard as a homeless, heroin addict and [the paper] was one of the things that helped me turn my life around," he says. "I was able to put down the heroin that had been plaguing my life for 32 years."

But by the time Goldfinger was named editor of the paper in September, 1994, he found out that Spare Change needed him as desperately as he had once depended on the paper's help.

The monthly, which is written, edited, and distributed by paid volunteers, faced ruin because workers had begun stealing money and many benefactors had lost faith in the paper.

"People were taking things for personal use," says vendor and finance committee member Horace Reid. "It took us a while to get things in order."

"There was a big problem prior to June of [1994]," says Goldfinger. "People were not being accountable with cash that was coming in."

But recent restructuring and the establishment of a board of directors comprised of members of the business and social service community has the paper back on track.

"We have turned this paper around in the past year and made it a success," he says. "We have had grow- ing pains, but this has been a successful year and the people that are coming aboard now are just fantastic."

The paper is now run by a group of committees instead of a small group of people. And several bureaucratic measures, like co-signing checks, have been put into place to prevent workers from taking money from the paper improperly, Goldfinger says.

"I worked with no salary. Gradually we were able to bring other people in," says Goldfinger, who joined the paper as a vendor two years ago. "It was a month by month thing."

Spare Change, which published its first edition in May 1992, depends on the trust of organizations, like the Boston Foundation and the Boston Computer Society, which donate funds and resources.

According to Reid, when benefactors are unsure about where their money is going, they are less likely to contribute to Spare Change. Consequently, the committees and the board of directors now work together to ensure that past mistakes aren't repeated.

"We lost a lot... we are just starting to get back on our feet," says editorial committee member Greg Daugherty, who is better known as the vendor who stands outside Au Bon Pain and greets passers-by with the calls: "Young man" and "Pretty lady."

"When people are homeless, it is very hard to deal effectively with other things," says Goldfinger. "Directly answerable to the board is going to be the office manager and the editor... so there will be a structure where the buck stops here."

During the last year, Goldfinger tried to establish some accountability, but he says he could not do it on his own.

"I was doing everything I could, but one person can't run the show," he says.

And when he hands the paper down to its new editor at the end of October, Goldfinger says he feels confident that the new institutionalized structure, modeled after a successful paper in Chicago called Streetwise, will help keep Spare Change viable.

"I wouldn't be stepping down if I didn't feel the systems were in place," he says.

Many of the new measures are designed to ensure people's trust, Goldfinger says.

All vendors have been given green identification tags and the September edition of Spare Change asks that those who donate "buy from badged vendors only."

Goldfinger says that in the near future, he will hand out picture identifications to all vendors.

Horace Reid, a finance committee member and Spare Change vendor, adds that he hopes field supervisors will continue to make sure the people who sell the paper are cordial.

In addition to restructuring much of the organization, Goldfinger says the paper will publish bi-weekly, twice as frequently as it currently does, starting November 1. Spare Change also hopes slowly to increase its circulation from 19,000 to 22,000 papers, Manuel says.

Producing two issues per month makes earning a living from selling papers more viable, Goldfinger says. "That makes it more economically feasible for vendors to work," says Goldfinger.

"People get tired of seeing the same paper two or three times," he says. Paper sales greatly diminish at the end of each month when issues have been in circulation for some time. According to Goldfinger, many of the people who purchase the paper at the end of each month do so out of the kindness of their own hear; and he does not want charity to be the driving force behind Spare Change.

"It is the quality of the paper that created the interest from the business community," he says. "We have been striving for excellence since September of 1994."

With its refurbished structure and the guidance it may receive from the board of directors, affairs at Spare Change are back in order, says Goldfinger.

"We had a lot of difficulties in the beginning, but little by little, things have gotten better," he says.

Still, challenges remain for Goldfinger.

"We plugged all the big holes, but we still have some leaks," Goldfinger says. "In this past year... we missed some papers," he says. "Which naturally turn into cash."

But Goldfinger insists that even the minor problems are being worked out.

He says the next step for the paper is establishing training programs for vendors and human services programs for vendors and human services programs, like help for Spare Change members who are addicted to drugs.

Goldfinger adds that he has established outreach teams that will visit shelters in the Greater Boston area in hopes of establishing distribution beyond Cambridge and the Downtown Crossing area in Boston where most of their vendors are currently located.

Vending Machines

Goldfinger says he wants to see the paper aid people like him, a recovering heroin addict, recapture their lives.

Goldfinger, who worked at Porter Square, says he was successful as a vendor because he was able to get to know his customers.

"I had a rapport with my customers, and I made enough money to lift myself out of homelessness," he says. "It was the first honest work I was able to do in years."

Like Goldfinger, Manuel's job as a vendor has helped keep him off the streets.

Joseph Manuel has been selling Spare Change newspapers for three years now. He says he'll never forget the sweetest of the winter nights he spent outside BayBank asking passers-by for a break.

That night, a man clad in a business suit offered Manuel a cup of coffee that he had bought from Store 24. The man then visited the nearby ATM machine and handed Manuel three $100 dollar bills and another $100 in fifties and twenties.

"He did it because he figured if this guy is standing in this cold, he must need [the money] bad," Manuel said of the man who gave him the $400 gift. "I'll never forget that."

Manuel used the money to buy a coat, three pairs of jeans and boots from the nearby Mass Army-Navy store.

Most newspaper vendors rarely come across that kind of generosity, but if you ask Manuel, he'll say that he has earned it.

"I'll stand out there when it's eight below zero," says Manuel. "I've got a job to do and I'll do it."

"I'm not saying that I'm no better than no one else," he says. "Anybody could sell this paper if they wanted to... you got to want to do something."

Reid, a native of Jamaica who has lived in the United States for roughly 20 years, began working for Spare Change two and a half years ago when he realized that he could work instead of panhandle.

"This paper helped me out when I had nothing," he says. "If [people] don't see you helping yourself, they don't want to help you."

New vendors go to the newspaper's offices at 1151 Mass. Ave. in the Old Cambridge Baptist Church. They are initially given 10 issues to sell for one dollar each.

After the initial issues, vendors purchase the newspaper for 25 cents per issue and keep the 75 cent profits, although at times, some benefactors choose to offer more.

But vendors have to be willing to endure the cold weather, and the often harsh comments launched at them by passers-by.

"Sometimes people give you a hassle," says Reid, who adds that he is often told to get a job. "I'm trying to describe to these people that this is a job."

Manuel, too, prefers to overlook people who walk past him without saying a word. He says he understands that people often have things on their minds and don't want to be bothered.

"If I can't get their attention, I just smile," he says. "Eventually, I got the papers I know will sell... I just take the bitter with the sweet."

"I hear some people say that I [could] make more money holding a cup [and begging," Manuel says. "[But] it's up to the individual person."

Daugherty often strikes passers-by as the most distinctive vendor as he calls "pretty ladies" and "young men" to buy a paper from him outside Au Bon Pain.

"I meet a lot of interesting people," says Daugherty, who describes his talent for communicating as "natural."

"I'm born with it," he says.CrimsonSusan C. HomeJOSEPH MANUEL has been selling Spare Change newspapers for three years. He says he'll never forget the night a stranger gave him $400.