Uriah Pryce

Uriah Pryce, 73, came to the U.S. a a commercial fisherman in the 1970s from Kingston, Jamaica when fishing operations were looking for cheap labor. People who were hired from struggling countries were moved quickly through immigration back then, he said. He would work and earn $1,000 and then the supervisor would only give him $500 saying he doesn’t need any more than that because he’s from Jamaica.

He traveled with fishing operations from Florida to Louisiana, Texas to Alaska. He spent 24 years working out of Dutch Harbor, Alaska at the height of their fishing season. It was hard and dangerous work but paid well, he said. At one point he hooked up with a research vessel that took him off the coast of Panama. He was earning enough to live comfortably for 14 years in Florida with a long-time girlfriend and help raise her nine children like they were his own. He also has two boys in Jamaica, a daughter in Kansas and one in Alaska.

He said the work was relentless and strenuous. Making imitation crab meat with Alaskan pollock was a $270 million per day enterprise up in Alaska.

But fishing is seasonal work. One day he woke up with swollen legs. He couldn’t breathe. He ended up with a pacemaker. That was in 2012. He can no longer work the kind of jobs that would allow him to live indoors. The RV that served as a home, balancing time between the beach and the mountains, for 18 years is on blocks somewhere. He can’t afford to get it up and running.

“It’s alright though,” he said. “Outdoor living is natural in Jamaica. I take care of myself.”

Rather than try and live with one of his children, he would rather live a relaxed life in the park near downtown San Diego. Fellow homeless individuals help him out with a few dollars and he likes to play the lottery, which breaks him about even in the long run. “Money is a material thing,” he added. “As long as I get food and a place to sleep I don’t need anything else.”

After paying into the social security system for decades, Pryce is due a regular paycheck. But he can’t do that without getting his naturalization status straightened out. He said he’s tried 15-20 times with the help of lawyers, but he hasn’t been successful. Personnel at the social security administration have assured him the money he’s earned is in an account for him waiting for him to tap into it. He’s not holding his breath. In the meantime, he waits for dusk so he can retrieve the blanket he has hidden in a tree so he can make a bed for himself in the corner of a parking lot downtown.