What Responsibility Does a Bar Have to Its Neighbors?

E.J. Hodgkinson and his staff are on a first-name basis with most of the unhoused neighbors who live around The Porter, the Atlanta beer bar he bought four years ago. Working at a bar in Atlanta’s Little Five Points, a neighborhood with a longstanding, visible homeless community, might mean calling the city’s nonemergency community response line for someone in crisis one day, or dialing 911 for an overdose the next. In nonemergency situations, “we have PAD and 311, and we can call them,” explains Hodgkinson, referencing Atlanta’s pre-arrest diversion program, an alternative to calling the police. “But sometimes we need to call an ambulance, like, right freaking now.” 

Intervening in everything from overdoses to arson attempts requires balancing compassion and empathy with quick thinking and improvisation, not to mention the safety of everyone involved. But, Hodgkinson adds, “we generally just want people to be okay.”  

For T. Cole Newton, running a bar has required him to balance hospitality with safety. Newton has owned Twelve Mile Limit in New Orleans’ Mid-City, an economically diverse neighborhood, for 15 years. “From early on, we would get people who wandered in who seemed to be in poor mental health and not receiving services,” he says. Some come to drink, others just need to use the bathroom or have a glass of water, which Newton doesn’t mind. Occasionally he’s had to intervene, like when a neighborhood regular’s unpredictable behavior became threatening. “But until you prove yourself a danger, we try our best to treat everyone the same,” says Newton. 

Bartenders are no strangers to social conflict. But as rates of homelessness reach record highs, and mental health and substance use crises remain highly visible, these challenges are showing up literally at the doorsteps of hospitality venues, with workers on the front lines. Simultaneously, conversations about community safety have evolved beyond a reliance — and trust — of the police. Some bars are beginning to rethink their roles in the neighborhoods they serve. 

During the pandemic, former bartender Mara Bethel noticed more of her unhoused Atlanta neighbors in visible distress. She saw the same familiar pattern play out again and again: “The cops keep getting called, and then they’d end up in this endless cycle where their needs still aren’t being met,” she says. “Sometimes people would go to Grady [Hospital] or sometimes they’d spend the night in jail, but then they’re back on the street, over and over and over again.” Her neighborhood is home to a lot of unhoused people, and a lot of bars. She wondered: Could the people behind those bars help break this cycle?