Like just about every performer on BART trains, Tone Oliver specializes in two-minute shows that might start at Lake Merritt and wrap up by West Oakland. Flip on the stereo, rhyme over a beat, quickly collect donations.

The rapper, who lives in El Sobrante, says he’s trying to bring joy to people’s commute, and he makes up to $200 a day doing it. He’s among scores of pass-the-hat entertainers and panhandlers — dancers flipping from handstraps, women with babies and cardboard signs, napkin sellers and guitar strummers — who create a constant spectacle on the rail system.

Now they’re at the center of a controversy that’s jolted the Board of Directors and spilled over to social media. One director is pressing for an ordinance that would prohibit all forms of solicitation for money, from busking to begging. The idea plays well with riders who see panhandling as a sign of social disorder on the transit system. But it’s unclear whether Director Debora Allen has support from her colleagues or whether BART could even enforce such a law.

“In my mind, it comes down to: You’re stuck in a railcar that’s moving very fast, and there’s nowhere you can go to avoid it,” said Allen, who represents central Contra Costa County.

She’s taking up a fight that former General Manager Grace Crunican ignited last year by asking the board to consider an anti-panhandling ordinance, among other measures, to make passengers feel more secure. Directors didn’t bite last time.

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Two of Allen’s eight colleagues said they might support her proposed law. Four others declined to take a position. The last two were adamantly against it.

“Folks have a right to ask for help anywhere and everywhere,” said Director Lateefah Simon, comparing the anti-panhandling push to a “seat hog” ordinance that BART passed in 2016, then rescinded the next year when the composition of the board changed. Several directors said it was directed at homeless people sleeping on trains — not passengers taking extra seat space to “manspread” or store a bulky suitcase. The ordinance was never enforced.

Panhandling is a fraught issue for the elected board members. Half of them represent suburban areas where many people have long commutes and feel they are under siege from people asking for money. But despite that political pressure, some directors worry about trampling on civil liberties if the board enacts a rule against begging.

They may be right, said Erwin Chemerinsky, dean of UC Berkeley School of Law. Courts have consistently struck down anti-panhandling laws, saying the practice is a form of speech protected by the First Amendment.

If BART wants such an ordinance to hold up, he said, the rules need to pertain to any form of solicitation, from political donations to entertainment to a person sticking out a hand and telling a sad story. BART would also have to prove it has a compelling reason for the ordinance, and the agency would have to provide alternative places where entertainers and panhandlers “can reach their target audience,” Chemerinsky said.

While the board wrestles with the issue, BART’s managers have taken a separate stand with a series of posters urging riders not to hand out money and encouraging “a better way to give.”

The agency took down a different series of “No panhandling” signs in the new Fleet of the Future trains after directors and advocates for the homeless objected. They pointed out that BART prohibits only “aggressive panhandling,” which might include touching, threats or the invasion of personal space.

To some observers, this response reflects the rail system’s inconsistent approach to homelessness — a mix of police crackdowns, social services and directors throwing up their hands in frustration when they see BART’s tanking approval rating. While signs of poverty abound on many urban transit systems, BART seems unique in the Bay Area for the volume and variety of its panhandling. A spokeswoman for Muni said “this is not really an issue” for San Francisco’s buses or light rail.

“There’s a steady drumbeat of negative customer comments,” said BART Director Robert Raburn, who welcomed the idea of an anti-panhandling ordinance.

He receives at least two complaints a week about unwanted begging. Records from BART show the number of police responses to panhandlers has oscillated, from 882 in 2016 to a spike of 1,146 in 2017 to 671 last year. There have been 311 so far this year.

But those numbers don’t tell the whole story. Many riders are uncomfortable but never say anything, Allen said. Regular patrons of BART have learned to tolerate all forms of human behavior. That doesn’t mean they enjoy being asked for money in a captive space.

Director Liz Ames agreed and said she would support an anti-panhandling ordinance.

“I was recently on a BART train when these folks came in, cleared the area, put on their music and started doing these acrobatic moves where their feet went up in the air over customers’ heads,” Ames recalled. “I’d just prefer not to see that.”

Tone Oliver, the rapper, said he just wants to please crowds. He performs on BART for four-hour stints, five days a week, with the diligence of a comedian working one nightclub after another.

Oliver arrived at Lake Merritt Station at noon Wednesday, after dropping his 3-year-old son at day care. The San Francisco-bound train rolled in, and Oliver got on, scanning the crowd. Mostly baseball fans headed to Oracle Park. A few afternoon commuters. A couple of people hiding behind cell phones or books.

“Good afternoon, everybody,” he said, tapping a microphone. “my name is Tone Oliver, and I’m a motivational performer. I’m going to enhance your BART ride today.”

He switched on the stereo speaker, and a snare drum crackled. For a minute and a half, Oliver rapped, dancing effortlessly as the rhymes tumbled out in a sing-song cadence. The audience clapped, and several people dangled dollar bills, which Oliver collected in a thermos. At West Oakland Station, Oliver headed to the next car, repeating the same act until the train reached Embarcadero Station.

Many people donated. Others moved to the next car, only to be confronted by another panhandler carrying a cardboard sign. Rider Gabriel Hens-Piazza frowned.

“You shouldn’t be panhandling — get a job,” he said. “The rest of us who work hard shouldn’t have to listen to this.”

The tension among BART officials and directors was illustrated by a recent Twitter spat between Allen and Director Janice Li.

“Why do BART riders endure constant panhandling on trains?” Allen asked, adding that “a board ordinance is all that’s needed and is achievable with only five director votes. Who’s in?”

Li shot back, casting doubt on the board’s ability to legislate human behavior.

“Regardless of how you feel about panhandling, a sign that says, ‘No don’t do that,’ does not have an impact on whether people actually do that or not,” she tweeted.

Allen hopes two colleagues will join her at this week’s board meeting, asking BART staff to craft an ordinance that would bar people from soliciting charity in the paid areas of the rail system. It would go up for a discussion and vote in late September or early October, whether or not Allen has rallied five votes.

Rachel Swan is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. Email: rswan@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @rachelswan