Vanstone 7
Stephanie Vanstone
Amanda Grzyb
MIT272A: Representing Homelessness
5 December 2003
In Jennifer Toth’s, The Mole People, the author ironically intends to dismiss the urban myth of animal-like underground dwellers by presenting her readership with the personal accounts of those who inhabit the tunnels beneath New York City. It is unfortunate that Toth’s lofty attempt to metaphorically resurrect the underground homeless bares more likeness to the 1956 movie monster series of the same name than to the perception of its ultimate purpose. Toth’s interpretation of life in the tunnels beneath New York City becomes the sensationalized voyage of a dichotomous nether world. By merely depicting the underground homeless as a dystopic or utopic subculture Toth proliferates the misrepresentations of homelessness, all the while inadvertently dehumanizing the “mole people” to be as visceral as their label suggests.
In the 1956 Universal Studios’ release of The Mole People, intrepid archaeologists John Agar and Hugh Beaumont explore treacherous caverns only to discover an underground dwelling race of albinos who keep as their slaves the hunchbacked, clawed and bug-eyed Mole People. The film’s trailer contemplates whether or not these heroes “can save themselves with only a flashlight for a weapon”. (“Rotten Tomatoes” 1) The very nature of this seedy horror film is seemingly analogous to the way in which Toth, having strode beneath the heart of New York with only a can of Mace from her father, acts as our brave guide to the subterranean dystopia she has stumbled upon. The thrill of this adventure has obviously jaded Toth’s sense of objectivity, regardless of what her disclaimer (Author’s Note) might offer as “relevant” proof against this arguement. Simply by naming her book, The Mole People, Toth has chosen to sensationalize the perplexities of the underground homeless. Toth is unhesitant to portray the dystopia of a menacing subculture of irrational activity and unpredictable emotion. The “Dark Angel” chapter contains the most redundant display of Toth’s overt voyeurism, comparable only to the final few pages of the book’s epilogue in which Toth “escapes” from the horror of the “mole people” entirely. The devil-like figure that Toth devotes an entire chapter to could easily be miscued as an accurate representation of the underground homeless population. More importantly, if Toth were truly trying to alter the public perception of the mole people why would she include such an extraordinary spokesperson? Perhaps “Satan” is right when he describes Toth as “having a fascination with the darkness of the tunnel” and the evil within it. (Toth 165) This fascination leads Toth to go so far as to despotically define the smells of homelessness: “spoiled and soured food from scavenged dumpsters, stale sweat, and the excrement and urine of the streets”. (Toth 78) In conjunction with the terrifying adventures of her personal narrative, the quotes Toth selectively employ lend themselves to support her dystopic image of a carnal subculture. Rob Buckley, the director of the All Saints’ Soup Kitchen on New York’s Upper West Side, affirms, “Once you go down there and see the way they live, like animals, you can surely say no human beings live like that.” (qtd. in Toth 91) Harold Deamues, a volunteer with ADAPT (The Association for Drug Abuse Prevention and Treatment) attests to “feeling their eyes” and starting to wonder about the stories of cannibalism. (qtd. in Toth 160) Luckily, on the next page Toth goes on to state that Daniel Crump, a steward for the Transit Workers and Mechanics Union, “is one of the first knowledgeable people to talk about the underground homeless with her”. (161) Perhaps, her audience can momentarily refrain from peeing its pants; that is until she incessantly reminds them of a third rail that pulses with electricity, or of the hidden criminals, drug addicts, enormous rats and rushing trains that occupy the tunnels.