Hearing from readers is one of the best parts of my job. And I heard plenty about Sunday's column on John Steele, a homeless alcoholic who roamed my South Baltimore neighborhood for decades before finally dying in November.

I had seen John Steele frequently in the three years I've lived in the area, and heard countless stories, most of them bad. John Steele stole and yelled and ultimately drank himself to death. The neighbor in me felt sorry for him, but also anger about his menacing ways. The reporter in me wanted to know his story.

Some readers apparently didn't. Here is parts of one email I woke up to on Sunday morning:

so this bum steele walks out on his family and his obligations, becomes a drunk, causes the community lots of trouble, cost society bundles of money.  then some fool at social security gives him $150.00 a money to drink every week. and you and the buffoons at the failing sun decide to give him press time and  make him out to some type of hero? there is nothing better to write about?

There is a misconception that newspapers write about people who aren't liked because we feel sorry for them or want to make them heroes. I simply wanted to tell John Steele's story. You can like him or hate him but that's your choice. The reader is angry that the government gave him $150 a month, which John readily admitted he poured right back into gin. His wife told me he chose to be the way he did. I think you have a right to be angry that we taxpayers supported his habit, but if I hadn't told you about it, you wouldn't have known. Now you can express your feelings to the governing authorities who make the rules.

John Steele isn't alone in this city. There are, unfortunately, many people like him. I understand writing about him disrupts some people's comfort zones, but that's exactly what I'm trying to do. You don't have to feel sorry for the John Steele's of this world. If anything, his story doesn't plead for sympathy. He had all sorts of offers for help and turned them all down. We shouldn't have to pay for his gin; we shouldn't just throw him away either. And we should all want to know his story.

I got this e-mail from another reader:

Thanks for your column and follow up on John Steele of South Baltimore.

His wife lived across the alley from my old house on Gittings Street where he would come at night, loaded, and yell mean and vile things at her from their back fence because her firmness on not letting him into the house.  When me and my friends would go play music in the park where John lived, he would constantly egg us on supportively, and tell me personally "God bless you". It was a little stressful having him hanging around the neighborhood, due to his terminal drunkenness.  Perhaps an uncomfortable reminder of our own mortal shortcomings.

Anyhow, while I was kind of used to him being around, and considered him a minor nuisance, you are correct in that we all as Baltimorons, and people, should be interested in hearing John Steele's story.  To think otherwise misses the point entirely, or is simply mean-hearted.