In Daytona Beach, "aggressive begging" is now a crime. In Boca Raton, city officials recently considered banning body odor at the public library, a measurew aimed at the homeless.
Broward County libraries also have a body hygiene policy that prohibits people with body odor, deeming them a "nuisance to patrons."
And even in Miami, with a homeless plan lauded as a national model, the sexton of the city cemetery says he was told by police not to give homeless people so much as a drink of water, to discourage their presence amid the crumbling tombstones.
For vagrants and the homeless, it's a tough new world.
"It's a trend all over the nation," says Lynn Summers, executive director of the Community Partnership for Homeless in Miami. "They're calling it compassion fatigue. People are sick of homelessness, and they want a solution now. But arresting everyone doesn't work."
Adds Carolyn Balair-Kaiser, a Miami advertising agency owner who, with her husband, publishes a magazine for the homeless. "There's an 'us and them' mentality. You see people sleeping on the streets, you see people panhandling. I think we've all become rather immune, which just appalls me. I've cried a tear or two."
Protecting the rights of the homeless - many of whom consider shelters virtual prisons - and the rights of others to use public places unmolested is a difficult balancing act for municipalities and counties. Increasingly, they are turning to the law for solutions.
In December, Palm Beach County installed four signs at intersections known for panhandling. The signs display the international 'no' sign - a circle with a slash through it - and admonish motorists to "Say No to Panhandlers." Also included: a toll-free number for homeless assistance.
County Engineer George Webb says the signs were the result of a discussion several months ago by county commissioners who had heard complaints from people tired of being badgered for money at intersections.
Commissioners wanted to regulate panhandling without restricting fund-raising activities from charitable groups.
"It's a constitutional issue, if we let anyone out there soliciting, we have to let everyone out there," Webb said.
So commissioners flipped the equation, focusing on those who give handouts. The rationale behind the signs: Instead of offering onetime assistance, encourage panhandlers to get the assistance available to them through a network of programs.
"We wanted a positive way of dealing with the issue, which is why we included the homeless assistance number on the signs," Webb said.
It's too soon to tell if the sign program is working, he said. "If the panhandlers abandon those intersections, then we'll know," he said.
In Daytona Beach, a city ordinance goes to effect Wednesday that will make "aggressive begging" illegal. The city defines that to mean using insulting or abusive language, or blocking the path of a person or car in order to solicit money.
Webmaster's note - Perhaps they should institute this policy at the corner of Broward and Andrews in downtown Fort Lauderdale, as I know there are several individuals there that do the very thing outlined here
The ordinance, patterned after a law in Jacksonville, was written after a previous law regulating passive panhandling was struck down. Passive begging - sitting on a sidewalk with a cup, say - is protected under the U.S. Constitution.
The debate over body odor in the Boca Raton Library also stemmed from constituent complaints to local officials. Mayor Carol Hanson said the complaints centered on one woman who patronizes the library carting a piece of luggage but says she is not homeless.
The issue was set for discussion Tuesday, but City Council members tabled it without comment.
"We were inundated with letters and calls, saying it's insensitive, it's unconstitutional, why aren't you trying to help this woman instead," Hanson said. "People are really upset with it."
At this moment, the odor nuisance is "in never-never land," Hanson said. "I think we're going to wait and see what the public reaction is to tabling it."
Boca Raton wouldn't be alone in passing such an ordinance. In Broward County, the library policy reads, in part: "Neglect of bodily hygiene to the point when it is offensive and constitutes a nuisance to patrons is prohibited." Library officials say they've removed people - but rarely.
The city of Miami last year settled a federal lawsuit filed by the American Civil Liberties Union on behalf of the homeless. The suit, filed in 1988, set in motion a $15-million-a-year homeless assistance program considered a national model.
Under the terms of the settlement, homeless people are shielded from wrongful arrests and offered a wide array of new services. Miami-Dade has an estimated 4,500-5,000 homeless people, Broward County has roughly the same number.
The lawsuit spurred construction of two homeless assistance centers in Miami-Dade - one in Miami, the other in Homestead. They are operated by the Community Partnership for Homeless, a not-for-profit private-sector partner to the Miami-Dade Homeless trust.
In Broward, the new homeless shelter on Sunrise Boulevard is nearing completion. But earlier this month, county commissioners ordered an audit into the center's finances because the Broward Partnership for the Homeless, the group in charge of the center, had failed to make payments on a $2.3 million construction loan. Why were the payments late? Because some $4 million in pledges to the center were slow to be fulfilled, partnership officials said.
Shelters don't solve all the problems of the homeless population, though. Clyde Cates, sexton at the Miami City Cemetery - which he calls "ground zero" for the local homeless population - says a Miami police officer told him not to give homeless people drinks of water.
"If the families of people buried here come and ask for a drink of water, I give it to them," he said. "So if a homeless person asks for a cup of water, I'll do the same."
Miami police Major Paul Shepard said officers are simply trying to deter vandalism and desecration of the cemetery. "We're real sensitive to the homelesss." he said. "We're doing what we can to get them into shelters when that's appropriate. There's a shelter two blocks away."
Outside the cemetery, a woman hunched over on a battered chair in a weed-filled lot, her legs an unhealthy white, her hair matted. Around her, clothes and a filthy blanket mark her temporary home.
"It's hard," she said. "The shelters, that's like being in jail. But out here you're at the mercy of everyone."