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Maybe it’s the free blood-pressure screening that Ed the Poet offers every time you buy a newspaper from him.

Maybe it’s Joel’s restaurant reviews that forgo pompous observations about ambience and cut quickly to the enchiladas, meatloaf and other objects of serious gastronomy for the economically challenged.

Maybe it’s Randall, the booming tenor on the Madison Street bridge whose early-morning repertoire includes railing against the money lenders and rallying the cause of Jesus.

And maybe it’s simply a large dollop of public guilt combined with the talents, chutzpah and desperation of hundreds of newspaper-hawking vendors that have made Chicago’s StreetWise, the twice-monthly newspaper for the homeless, the largest such publication in the country.

Starting its fourth year in operation, StreetWise, which claims a monthly circulation of 120,000, has its feet moving this month to the suburbs and its eyes dreamily aimed on expanding its unusual non-profit franchise to other urban islands of opportunity, like Detroit or Washington, D.C.

To what end? Certainly not to the kind of corporate empire-building that provokes tired talk about synergy and leveraging and multiples. This is, instead, the business of raising public awareness of homelessness and poverty and trying to shame individuals and corporations into parting with their money and time to do something about them.

In short, it is the business of exploiting guilt.

“It’s more of a charity than a business,” said Anthony Oliver, the paper’s executive director, “but we’re in the business of helping people.”

The success of StreetWise is part of a recent national boomlet of sorts that has seen so-called street newspapers crop up and sometimes flourish in 47 U.S. and Canadian cities, and another 43 in Europe, according to a survey from the Washington-based National Coalition for the Homeless, a national advocacy group.

Their growth may be a partial response to legal efforts in some cities to crack down on panhandling. Although some people find vendors an occasional nuisance, their presence in Chicago is becoming part of a growing army of solicitors who work the streets and phone lines every day.

StreetWise sales build on the widely held belief that people are more likely to spend a dollar for a street paper than they are to stuff a dollar into a cup or an outstretched hand. “Before I worked here,” said John Ellis, the paper’s 25-year-old editor, “I used to buy it because it was better than just handing people a buck.”

This attitude has helped street papers gain not only a degree of acceptability, but economic momentum as well.

“I see street newspapers slowly growing and expanding and turning into alternative newspapers for the low-income community in many of the cities,” said Michael Stoops, director of the coalition’s field organizing project.

“The goal is to have one in every major city by the year 2000 and I think we’ll see that,” said Stoops, who is trying to organize a national convention of street newspapers in 1996, possibly to be held in Chicago.

StreetWise, usually a 16- to 20-page publication that features articles by and on the homeless, has become a model, albeit one that is rough around the journalistic edges. Operating out of the old Looking Glass Theater on East 13th Street near Michigan Avenue, StreetWise is a shoestring operation with a $450,000 annual budget. Ninety-three percent of its funding comes from circulation, Oliver said, with the rest coming from foundation support.

Five full-time employees work with volunteers in a large, high-ceilinged room that resembles a warehouse for used office furniture. Vendors buy papers for 25-cents apiece, sell each for a dollar and pocket 75-cents. The average monthly income per vendor is about $400.

“We want to be a clear window of opportunity to the homeless and low-income individuals, to stabilize their employment and housing situation,” Oliver said.

Although the newspaper’s identity is affixed to the issue of homelessness, not all of the vendors are homeless. The majority–about 60 percent–of the 667 vendors are described as “episodic,” Oliver said, hindered by mental illness, substance abuse or a poor education.

About 20 percent are temporarily homeless, due to losing jobs, unemployment benefits, insurance or being evicted from their homes. “They remain ambitious enough to look for jobs while selling newspapers. They’ll slide a resume into a newspaper they sell to a businessman,” Oliver said. They’ll usually sell the paper for three to six months before finding a better job.

The remaining 20 percent, he said, are “chronic. They’ll be selling for quite some time,” Oliver said, adding that the overwhelming majority of vendors do not have drug or alcohol problems.

While the financial lure of selling StreetWise may be slight, the non-profit organization is also a referral agent to a wide array of services for the homeless and those with low incomes. Its link to drug, medical, housing and counseling services is a primary attraction to vendors, many of whom have hit the economic and emotional bottom.

“I see us providing more services to the vendors,” said Judd Lofchie, founder and president of the board. “We’re exploring other projects, such as buying a printing press and providing more services in the area of job training and independent living skills.”

It is part of the newspaper’s stated mission “to provide employment and opportunities to empower homeless people to become self-sufficient.” In its three years of publishing, Oliver said about 40 percent of the 2,578 vendors who have sold the paper moved on to better jobs.

Beyond the distinctive sales techniques of vendors scattered around the city, the visibility of StreetWise has been raised by the July 30 shooting death of vendor Joseph Gould, allegedly by an off-duty Chicago police officer. Murder charges against the officer, Gregory Becker, were dropped, but last week involuntary manslaughter charges were brought. The case has created a furor in the homeless community and a big story for StreetWise.

The paper has been careful, however, not to criticize the entire Chicago Police Department for the actions of “a rogue cop,” as Becker has been described. Why? Because, for clear economic reasons, vendors need to maintain a good rapport with the police.

“We have a good relationship with the Police Department,” Oliver said. “The cops look after the vendors. We know that not every Chicago police officer has a problem.”

Oliver said the actions of vendors are also monitored. “We observe them and we can tell when an individual is under the influence. If we catch you that way, you can’t sell the paper,” he said. “The police help us go after the renegade vendors.”

The image of vendors suffering from alcohol and drug abuse is powerful and largely inaccurate, said Oliver, who provided figures that showed only 52 of the 667 licensed vendors have been referred to substance abuse services.

The StreetWise move to the suburbs is part of a joint venture with the Hoffman Estates-based Coalition for the Homeless of Northwest Cook County. The paper will include a four-page pullout with stories on poverty and homelessness in the suburbs. It will not be sold on the street, as it is in Chicago, but through subscriptions and bulk sales to church groups, community organizations and corporations.

In November, a collection of previously published poems by vendors and homeless people will be released in book form.

The newspaper’s mission is not likely to change, nor will its approach to market itself. An early study showed that the typical buyers of StreetWise are middle-income to upper-income, well-educated white females. Although another study of readership found that only a tiny percentage of people who bought the paper actually read it, Ellis and Oliver said readers are paying more attention and demanding better content.

Ellis said the paper will continue to aim at three audiences–people who need help, area non-profit organizations that can provide it and individuals and corporations who are in a position to donate time and money. It is a formula that fits well for a publication designed to allow people to buy a little peace of mind.

“We’d like to be so successful that we put ourselves out of business,” Ellis said, “but unfortunately, I don’t see that happening.”